#like I went to level her up and she straight up has Light Side Mastery over her little character model immediately.

[redjennies]

Kreia's warning about not trusting Visas Marr would be a lot more meaningful if it wasn't possible to max out her influence and light side points in literally your first two conversations with her entirely on accident. like you don't even have to leave the ship, and Visas is already like: "Friendship Ended with The Sith. The Exile is My Best Friend Now."

[miss-choco-chips]

Good influence, bad influence.

Tim is one of those, and he gets the other one. Guess which is which. Ft a murder kitten, two oblivious birds, a divorce-preventing baby and a murderous mother.

(Thanks to @the-quiet-carrotcake who helped me think this through on chat and gave me ideas (THANKS BABE), and tagging @animemangasoul because they understand my need to ALWAYS include Kon when writting about Tim.

This sat on my wips for so long now, so I’m not even proofreading it. Just take it away, please)

-----.-----

-Are you sure I can’t just stab her?

-Really sure.

-How much?

-Like, 100% sure.

-You told me once it’s impossible to ever/

-...be 100% sure of something, I know. Which is how you know I mean it now.

Damian puffed his cheeks. Tim was sure that, in his mind’s eye, he looked dignifiedly annoyed. In reality, it was adorable. But since Damian currently held his right hand hostage, and was probably holding onto his dagger inside his pocket with the other one, he didn’t want to risk pointing it out. He just tugged him away, swimming through the masses, as Damian had called them upon entering the ballroom.

-But why not? 

It was as close to a whine a sound as the kid could make, which upped his adorable factor another notch. 

-You’d get blood on your suit, for one. And then, my mom would kill you.

A little shudder at the mention of Janet Drake, though the kid composed himself quickly- I wouldn’t let a single drop fall on me, cousin. I’m not an amateur.

Since Damian would have used another, more offensive word not so long ago, Tim ignored the pointed look he got when he said ‘amateur’. Also, the use of modern slang was something he was painstakingly drilling into him, so he was quiet proud when it bore fruits.

-Also, you’d draw attention to ourselves. And that woman didn’t even do anything worthy of such a reaction.

-She dared touch me! Treated me like, like… like a kid!

Pointing out that he, in fact, was one wouldn’t go well, so Tim’s mind offered an alternative route. 

-You don’t know? -he blurted out, feigning surprise. Damian looked up at him, eyes squinting suspiciously, and there, very well hidden (but not enough he didn’t notice) a little hesitancy.

-Know what?

Tim let go of the little, calloused hand, and placed both of his on the slimmer shoulders, bending down a bit to be face to face with his charge for the night. The blond wig and round glasses weren’t enough to hide Damian’s almost aristocratic features, but they sure managed to misdirect someone about his bloodline. No one would be able to tell he was Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul’s son, which was kinda the idea.

It had been a chore, to put the disguise in the proud boy, but Tim had been the one to achieve it when he dressed it as a training exercise: they had to make it through the party without its host, Mr Wayne, recognizing him.

Easy peasy, or so he had told mother when he assured her she could go make business with aunt Nicole and leave them be. He hadn’t calculated… well, other people.

-About Mrs Stingdom’s homeland.

Damian was too dignified to look over his shoulder at the lady in question, but Tim could see he wanted to.

-She’s a gothamite -he pointed out, because as Tim had suggested, he did his homework about who was attending to the party. A bit, at least. The story of so many boring socialites was too much to bear.

-She married a gothamite -he explained, doing his best to look stern about Damian’s apparent misinformation-. She’s actually from another land, which is why she pinched your checks. In her culture, it’s a sign of utmost respect towards people under ten years old who are still considered to be superiors, despite their age.

It sounded far fetched, even to his own ears, but he was playing into Damian’s social incompetency and his arrogance at believing himself above all others, which is why the kid nodded slowly after a few seconds, eating the whole lie in one bite.

His bespectacled eyes bore into his, brows furrowed. His hands went to Tim’s, still on his shoulders, a little unsure.

-Should I expect more of this… cultural difference? So I won’t be underprepared, should anyone else wish to pay me their respects in a new manner?

Sensing a chance to prevent a future stabbing, Tim was quick to nod. Mom was going to be so proud!

----.----

A little later that night, a new issue arose. Since Tim was pretty busy handling the seven year old, he had to forgo his usual Wayne-party routine, which was basically to find one of the sons and hide with them for the rest of the night.

Of course, neurotic bastards like them wouldn’t take a change in routine go like that. Because Bruce has instilled paranoia and curiosity on them like Alfred did with manners, and sadly, the last one’s teachings rarely showed up.

-Timmy! Here you are. I was worried, since you never approached us. Aww, who’s this kid? You made a friend?

He groaned internally. Dick, and behind him he could spot Jason, eyebrow arched at the novelty of Tim not looking for them immediately. He wanted to, thrived in the chance to spend even a few minutes with his idols, but duty calls, and his mind didn’t like the possibles outcomes would Damian and the Waynes meet.

-Hey, Dick… Jay. Good evening -he smiled politely, hand clutching tighter Damian’s. Don’t notice, don’t notice, please don’t notice.

To his immense relief, none of them seemed to find anything noteworthy in Damian’s face, which… was also kinda disappointing, despite him wishing for it. Like, yeah, the wig and glasses were good misdirect, but really? He would have noticed the similarities with Bruce despite them, and those two were supposedly detectives…

-Stop being so formal, kid -grumbled Jason, big hand making a mess of Tim’s styled hair. He would have complained, but… Jason’s voice and hand, okay? He was a weak teenager. Don’t judge him- Know ya since y’were  half that heigh, and lighter than my jacket.

Tim’s hormones ignored the comment on him being small, and  focused on the mental image of the mentioned jacket, most likely leather and well worn. 

…This was so not the time for  fantasizing. 

A tiny, calloused hand slapped Jason’s away, which promptly changed the mood.

-Don’t touch my cousin, you/

But Tim had prepared for this outcome, so his own hand rose just as quickly to cover Damian’s mouth.

At the word ‘cousin’, both heroes looked very interested. Tim was under no delusions, well aware Bruce and each of his adopted children had made their own background checks on him and his entire family, so they would know Damian’s claim to familiarity to be a lie, but they also couldn't really call them out on it without making it obvious they investigated him.

His head was already hurting for all the social maneuvering he had to do to keep out of trouble, and now, adding two concerned birds and one murderous kitten, it was even worse.

This was going to be a very, very long night. But both mom and Nicole had asked him, so he wouldn’t try to get out of being a (as) good (as possible) role model.

---------------.----------

Tim winced, muscles locking in a poor attempt at not showing it. From the look Conner gave him, at the other side of the room where he was being chewed out by Lex, he failed miserably at hiding his pain; which, in turn, enraged his mom even more.

-What. Did. You. DO?!

The hand not currently held by his mother went to his ear, protecting it from the almost demonic screech. He could see Auntie Nicole doing the same, sitting with Damian on the couch, sharing tea and cookies as they watched the whole show. The nine year old showed a surprising amount of sympathy towards Tim’s injuries, for someone who had been harshly trained since birth and had recently begun a career as vigilante (not that Tim was supposed to know about it, though). Or was it pity because of mom’s rage?

-You told me no tights and spandex! Never said anything about a mask and a hoodie, and Conner and the guys really needed my help with strategizing -he defended himself, because even if he shouldn't know about the waynes being heroes, he had been Conner’s friend since he found and subsequently freed him from Lex’s secret lab, which in turn warranted mom’s rule against heroing that he had just broke-. And don’t yell at me, I can hear you perfectly fine.

-I’M NOT YELLING! -she lied, tightening the bandage, scowl growing in power-, AND MASKS WERE IMPLIED AS A NO! Also, what are those if not thighs?

-Skinny jeans!

-They are indecent, that’s what they are!

On the other side of the room, Kon seemed to be having a less exhausting time than Tim. Lucky bastard, Luthor had less experience in parenthood, hadn’t yet reached the Scolding Mastery level.

-Hey! Auntie Nicole dresses like that -he points to the woman, who raises an eyebrow- and you don’t tell her anything! Look at her cleavage, you can almost see her bellybutton! 

-Leave me out of this -asked the woman, taking the teapot to refill Damian’s cup; he, in turn, handed her the cookies platter.

Ignoring her best friend, Janet snapped again- NICOLE ISN’T MY STUPID FOURTEEN YEAR OLD SON, WHO IS NEVER SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN!

-What light of day? This is Gotham, we don’t have sunlight anyway. And I’m not stupid, my IQ is higher than everyone’s in this room.

-IT SURELY LOOKS LIKE YOU ARE FROM WHERE I’M STANDING, HERE, RE-BANDAGING YOUR ARM!

Tim sighed, locking eyes with Conner in solidarity; or he wanted to, but the smug bastard’s scolding was over and he and Luthor had joined the Al Ghuls in their tea party.

-Come on, mom. This’ but a scratch.

-YOU GOT SEVEN STITCHES!!!! I can’t believe this.

She barely got her son out of vigilantism by monitoring his Wayne-Interaction and threats of boarding school and then he went and befriended a group of teen heroes and threw all her hard work straight to the trash. No, he skipped that part, he went directly to the dumpster and burried her good intentions under a pile of shit.

But really, she couldn’t very well make him entirely responsible of this, not when he got carried away by Conner’s ‘do the right thing’ speech. And Conner had came into their lives because of…

In blind rage, she finished her patch job on her son’s arm and turned in a flash to face Lex, whose face went quickly from amused to scared.

-WHY DID YOU THINK IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO HAVE A KID WITH SUPERMAN?

Sensing she was done with him, Tim went to sit by Kon, who moved a bit on his individual couch so they could share it, though it was a very tight fit.

-Clone -he corrected helpfully, TTK bringing Tim his coffee cup closer.

-Did I stutter? And I wasn’t talking to you, was I?

Nicole seemed like she was having the time of her life right now- So hey, listen, between you and LITERAL SUPERMAN, who was the one on the receiving end when you pictured yourself having a kid with him? Like, who was getting it? Because, pal, odds aren’t in your favor, you know.

-Don’t be stupid, dear -huffed Janet, looking at her friend’s green eyes and calming don infinitesimally- If he was actually getting it, he wouldn't have resorted to having his kid to get his attention.

-IT’S A CLONE, AND I ABSOLUTELY DIDN’T MAKE HIM TO GET THAT ALIEN’S ATTENTION! He’s my enemy, not my lover, what is wrong with you people.

-Am I a divorce-preventing baby? -asked Kon to Tim, raising an eyebrow. The other kid just shrugged.

-Looks like it. Not like Uncle Lex had any other way to keep Superman from leaving him…

-I’m right here.

-I know, Uncle Lex. I love you, but you need to rethink your choices. If the man wants to go, let him go. Kon doesn’t need any brothers. I can’t deal with more of him, one is more than enough.

[avengersmusings]

FULL NAME: Natalia Alianova Romanova MEANING: Christmas Day NICKNAME: Natasha, Nat, Tash, Tasha MEANING: Natasha is the name she usually goes by to distance herself from the Red Room, Nat’s just a shortened form of her name, and Clint calls her Tash/Tasha when they’re alone thanks. AGE APPEARANCE: Appears 30, is actually 36 BIRTHDAY: April 22nd, 1984 ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Taurus SPECIES: Enhanced Human GENDER: Cis female ALLERGIES: None SEXUAL PREFERENCE: Pansexual THEME SONG(S): Praying by Kesha, Black Widow by Iggy Azela & Rita Ora, I Did Something Bad by Taylor Swift, and Alone Together by Fall Out Boy

APPEARANCE

HAIR COLOR:  Red HAIR STYLE AND LENGTH: Shoulder length, usually either wavy or straight. She’ll wear it up in a bun if she’s lounging around. EYES COLOR: Green EYESIGHT: 20/20, the serum she was injected with corrected any and all imperfections. HEIGHT: 5″7′ WEIGHT: 145 lbs OUTFIT/CLOTHING STYLE: On missions it’s whatever SHIELD makes her wear but when she’s alone it’s usually leggings and someone else’s shirt or sweats and Clint’s shirt. Flat shoes are a must and jeans are only worn if they’re going out in public (and they’re tight as can be). ABNORMALITIES: None. DISTINGUISHING MARKS(SCARS,MOLES): Various knife/bullet wounds that have scarred over; a long bullet wound along right hip; small scattering of freckles along upper back, shoulders, and face. SELF CARE(MAKE UP): Nat always looks well kept and put together. The Red Room forced her to. FIRST IMPRESSION ON PEOPLE: People usually think she’s a bitch and unapproachable. SKIN COLOR: Latina/White mixed BODY TYPE/BUILD: Slim, lean, and muscular. DEFAULT EXPRESSION: Resting bitch face x1000. POSTURE: Nat always has perfect posture, her body tense like a dancer’s.  MEASUREMENTS(FEMALE ONLY): Waist: size 12; Bust: size 34D PIERCINGS: Multiple piercings on ears, bellybutton piercing. DESCRIBE THEIR VOICE: As the Black Widow, there’s no distinguishable accent but when Nat is alone her natural accent comes out.

RELATIONS:

MOM: Anika Romanova HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Natasha’s mother died when she was young, but hse does have a fond memory of her mother singing to her. DAD: Ivan Petrovitch (Adopted); birth father is unknown. HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Before she was kidnapped by the Red Room, their relationship was very good. He took her in after her mother’s death and the Red Room told her that he was dead. SIBLINGS: Mayna Romanova HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: For the longest time, Natasha had no idea that Mayna was even still alive. They went through the Red Room together but it wasn’t until Nat dropped all of SHIELD’s files to the public that she found out her sister was still alive. CHILDREN: N/A HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: N/A OTHER FAMILY MEMBERS: N/A PAST LOVER(S): Alexi Shostakov (Ex-Husband), James Barnes (Ex-Fling) CURRENT LOVER: Clint Barton REACTION TO MEETING SOMEONE NEW: Nat keeps quiet and analyzes them until she gets a good read of them. ABILITY TO WORK WITH OTHERS: Usually, Nat can work with anyone. Her training forces her to want to work with others, even if she doesn’t agree with them. However, it takes her a while to fully trust her teammates. HOW SOCIABLE(LONER,ETC): Mildly social, but only to those she trusts and cares about.  FRIENDS: The Avengers team, Elise Burke, Wanda Maximoff, Carol Danvers, Pepper Potts PETS: Liho, a 3 year old black male cat.  LEAST FAVORITE TYPE OF PERSON: Overbearing men, cocky people, men who don’t take her seriously because she’s a woman. PARENTAL TYPE(PROTECTIVE,ETC): Protective, Carefree. FAVORITE PEOPLE: Clint, Elise, Bucky, Wanda, and Pepper are her top five favorite people. LEAST FAVORITE PEOPLE: Clint, anyone Hydra or Red Room affiliated, people who are rude to women.

PERSONALITY:

..WHEN YOU FIRST MEET THEM: ? Cautious, closed off, cold. ..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY LIKE YOU): Affectionate, Loyal, Playful. ..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY DISLIKE YOU): Cold, Mean, Sarcastic. FAVORITE COLOR: Red. FAVORITE FOOD: Russian Pelmeni, pizza, anything chocolate. FAVORITE ANIMAL: Cats FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Flute FAVORITE ELEMENT: Fire LEAST FAVORITE COLOR: White LEAST FAVORITE FOOD: Lemons, Cabbage Rolls, beans LEAST FAVORITE ANIMAL: None really. LEAST FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Deep bass and drums LEAST FAVORITE ELEMENT: Earth HOBBIES: Ballet dancing, listening to calming music, eating cereal with Clint at 3am. USUAL MOOD: Calm, collected, but usually in a good mood.

DRINK/SMOKE/DRUGS: Drinks socially. DARK VERSION OF SELF: Cunning, ruthless, a trained assassin that will kill without hesitation. LIGHT VERSION OF SELF: Loyal, willing to make the sacrifice play, intelligent. HOW SERIOUS ARE THEY: Nat is usually pretty serious, but does have a playful side. BELIEVE IN GHOSTS: Ghost are real and they haunt her at night. (IN)DEPENDANT: Independent, though tends to be dependent on people she really cares about. SOFT SPOT/VULNERABILITY: Talking about her pre-SHIELD past, Clint, orphaned children. OPINION ON SWEARING: She doesn’t do it unless the occasion calls for it, but isn’t against it. DAREDEVIL VS CAUTIOUS: It depends on the situation. MUSIC TYPE: She prefers classical or calming music and cannot stand rap or hip hop. MOVIE TYPE: Action, Horror, dumb comedies Clint makes her watch BOOK TYPE: Nat’s read all the classics but her favorites are those trashy romance novels and she pretends she doesn’t read them. GAME TYPE: Anything, she’s been trained to know how to read to win them all. COMFORTABLE TEMPERATURE: Nat likes being comfortable, meaning not too hot or too cold. SLEEPING PATTERN: Nat’s usually up at all hours, but likes to try to keep a sleeping schedule. It doesn’t really work out. CLEANLINESS/NEATNESS: Nat’s okay with a little bit of disarray in her living areas, a light clutter to show a home is lived in isn’t bad. But she can’t super messy environments. DESIRED PET: Cats HOW DO THEY PASS TIME: Nat’s free time is either spent training or with Clint. BIGGEST SECRET: There isn’t much Nat keeps secret anymore, between the SHIELD leak and her desire to let her teammates know everything. HERO/WHO THEY LOOK UP TO: Peggy Carter. WHAT ANIMAL WOULD THEY BE: A lioness. FEARS: Becoming Natalia again and hurting one of her coworkers, Clint leaving her, failing to save someone. COMFORTS: Warm baths, Clint drapping himself around her, Liho purring on her chest.

HOW DO THEY ACT WHEN THEY ARE:

SAD: Nat has two sad modes: run away or shut it down. When she’s sad she either shuts down her negative emotion until she can’t hold it back anymore or runs away to deal with them on her own. HAPPY: Playful, joking around, wanting to be around as many people as possible. ANGRY: Depending on who/what made her angry: fighting, harsh words, or poking at known weaknesses are her usual go tos. AFRAID: Nat isn’t usually afraid, but when she is her body shuts down and goes into fight or flight mode. LOVE SOMEONE: Steals their clothing, wants to be around them all the time, becomes over protective. HATE SOMEONE: Nat either avoids them or makes their life a living hell. WANT SOMETHING: Nat will go after it, she’s not the one to beat around the bush. CONFUSED: Nat doesn’t get confused often but if she does end up confused she works it out until she understands it.

HOW DO THEY REACT TO:

DANGER: Nat’s fight or flight response kicks in and she tries to protect her teammates from whatever danger is present. SOMEONE THEY HATE WHO HAS A CRUSH ON THEM: Nat murders them, no she just lets them know she’s not interested. PROPOSAL TO MARRY: At first, she thinks Clint is joking because he’s him. But when she eventually realizes he’s being legit, she’d accept and they’d spent at least a day celebrating. DEATH OF LOVED ONE: After so much loss, Nat’s almost immune to it. She gets sad and wants to be alone for a little bit and then wants Clint to just hold her. DIFFICULT GAME/MATH/ETC: Nat will not rest until she works it out okay. INJURY: If someone else is hurt, Nat hides it and pretends she’s okay. She’s also been injured so many times that she doesn’t realize she’s hurt half the time so. SOMETHING IRRESISTABLY CUTE: Nat pretends it’s annoying while secretly dying on the inside. LOSS OF HOURS OF WORK: I dare SHIELD to try to cut her out of something. I dare them.

Knowledge:

LANGUAGES: English, Russian, German, Latin, ASL. SCHOOLING LEVEL: Whatever the Red Room was FAVORITE SUBJECT (S): Dance, Combat INTERESTED CAREERS: None really.   EXPERTISE: Combat, Weapons Mastery, Hacking, Seduction & Manipulation PUZZLES: Puzzles aren’t that hard for her. CHEMISTRY: The science subject? Not so much. Human chemistry? She’s an expert. MATH: Math wasn’t that hard for her to understand. ENGLISH: She can speak it but reading something and finding hidden meanings? Not so much. GEOGRAPHY: SHIELD gave her some training so she has basic understandings of map reading. POLITICS/LAW: Nat has a basic understanding of the law, but she doesn’t really pay attention to politics. She knows how to play people to get what she wants.  ECONOMY/ACCOUNTING: This is probably the one section Nat doesn’t care about. COOKING: Nat can cook basic things and enjoys doing it. SEWING: She’s really good at it, especially if it’s medical sewing. MECHANICS: Nat knows the basics of car owning but that’s about it. BOTANY (FLOWERS): Yeah no.  MYTHOLOGY: Nat took an interest in Norse Mythology after meeting Thor but that’s about it. DRAMATICS(ACTING,SINGING): Nat’s skill set deals with acting so. READING LEVEL: Proficient. HOW GOOD ARE THEY AT PLANNING AHEAD: It depends on what she’s planning. Missions, she’s great. But everything else? Not so much.

ROMANCE:

DO THEY TAKE INITIATIVE: ALL THE TIME. Nat’s constantly pulling Clint in for kisses or cuddles or into empty rooms. HOW DO THEY ACT(SHY,ETC): It depends on her mood and what she wants, but usually she’s pretty forward and confident in what she wants. GENTLEMAN/LADYLIKE VS KLUTZY: Nat’s smooth, but Clint tends to make her nervous. She’s never felt like this for someone before. GO SLOW VS JUMP INTO: Nat’s romantic life was to jump into things quickly and she took her time with Clint. PROTECTIVE: FUCK YES. ACT LIKE FRIENDS OR LOVERS: Honestly, both. WHAT KIND OF PRESENTS DO THEY BUY: Who needs presents when you can just give them sex? It’s probably a new toy or something they can use in the bedroom. TYPE OF KISSER: It depends on her mood, sometimes she wants soft kisses and some times she wants it rough. DO THEY WANT KIDS: No, but also yes? DO THEY WANT TO MARRY: Only if it’s Clint. MAKE GOOD OR BAD DECISIONS: Both. She has a self-destruction tendency when it comes to love/romance. ARE THEY ROMANTIC: Yes. HOW ARE THEY IN BED: One of her skill sets is being good in bed okay.  GET JEALOUS EASY: Yes and no. She knows Clint is it for her, and her for him, but at the same time she doesn’t like people touching her man. WIFE/HUBBY BEATER: No. Nope. No. Never. MARRY FOR MONEY: Nope. Maybe for the laughs to Tony, but not really. FAVORITE POSITION: Nat likes being on top. She really enjoys being on top during oral and just CRUSHING Clint between her thighs okay. WHAT WOULD HAPPEN ON THEIR DREAM DATE: Oh god, staying in and just hanging out and cuddling on the couch followed by great sex. OPINION ON SEX: Sex used to be something she just did because she was expected to, but now it means so much more to her. It’s one of her favorite things to do with Clint.

[inkedwolf-archive]

The Art of Witchcraft in Warcraft

Hello, Everyone! With the introduction of Drustvar and the witches who stir up mischief in those troubled woods, I thought it was time to do a piece that reflects my personal take on The Art of Witchcraft in Warcraft. Now, before you’re triggered, keep in mind this is just how I personally roleplay my character. She is a witch of the Old Ways. While many would simply say she is a Harvest Witch, that isn’t entirely accurate either.

Before I get into the ins and outs of my personal spin, witches have always been a grey area of lore. Below are some short little blurbs on what is available out there for the masses, and I’m sure there are a few more snippets in the novels. That said, this is just from an internet search and a spot of digging through lore.

Also, for those looking to start a witch, I highly recommend reading this link, as it has all the basics in one handy place. There is more beyond that article, however, it is beautifully written and gets you pointed in the right direction. Now, let's just into it. 

As of right now, lore-wise, everyone seems to group witches into one of the two categories below:

Harvest Witch is a term used for those who use their nature magic to augment the crops and plant life of an area. In Gilneas especially, once that secluded city reached its industrial age, harvest witches were responsible for keeping the harvests full and bountiful. Without their subtle practices that were shunned, by the Light Worshipping Masses, Gilneas would have suffered famine or worse. 

The Drustvar Witch is the newest witch sighting in our ever expanding world. Now, Harvest Witches, though frowned upon, are wielders of natural magic. Life. Good. Bounty. Think of these as your white witches. Drustvar witches are the opposite. They contort and corrupt their bodies with death magic. For, where there is life… there is also death. And where there is light there is often dark. While Harvest witches help plant life thrive and grow, a Drustvar witch corrupts the harvest and taints the land with her vile magic. 

Now, just because these are the commonly known witches doesn’t mean you have to adhere to being some crop growing hippy or a  dark and crusty hag. Witches in WoW, good or bad, have been pulled from Pagan Beliefs and the modern day Wiccans. This opens up a whole witchy  world of ways you can tailor your character to what best fits your roleplaying needs. Swamp Witch, Hedge Witch, Mind Witch, Sea Witch… have fun with it. 

Here’s my personal choice on how I have built my character’s belief system and magic! 

I went with a more ‘pagan/wiccan’ aspect. Now, for starters, Pagan is a very broad term that is neither good nor bad. Just means instead of worshipping one deity… like The Light, Pagans worship several… like the Wild Gods or Old Gods. Now, for those who  practice life, nature, and fertility like Mac, the Wild Gods are who she puts her “faith” in.  

The Wild Gods  are many and versatile, often taking on a particular strength or aspect and embodying a spirit/beast that has those qualities. Wild Gods is also a loose term as the Trolls refer to these great spirits as Loa. Either way, they are strong nature forces that witches can call upon in a time of need. 

How to Witch 101: Mac’s System

So, time and time again we read that witches have limited magical ability. This does not mean that you are helpless and can only cast some manner of basic acolyte spells that an infant elf could cast straight out of the womb. This simply means if you are going toe to toe with an experienced druid, you’re likely going to find yourself overpowered by their strong affinity for nature magic. It is speculated that humans weren’t entirely meant to wield the power of nature; that said, I keep my god complex in check when it comes to Mac’s magic. She is by no means all powerful, but she is hardly weak either. Below is a brief little system I use to keep her honest… ish. 

Casting Spells

•Basic Spells: These are spells that require no verbalization and are often closer to parlor tricks. They require very little focus and/or energy to maintain. Examples: Soothing Wild Creatures, Spurring Plantlife to Grow, Creating a Witch Light, Initiating a Mental Link/Bridge with a willing participant. 

•Intermediate Spells: These are spells that sometimes require verbalization. For actual vocal spells, I use Gaelic as an Old Ways/Dead Azerothian language because I like the sound better than Old Norse. These spells require basic focus and a slow drain of energy to maintain. Depending on my character’s current physical state these spells could cause her to break a sweat or over exert herself if she is already stretched too thin. Examples: Healing Physical Wounds, Creating a Mental Link/Bridge with an unwilling Participant, Controlling a Wild Creature

•Advanced Spells: These are spells that require a great deal of focus and energy. It is unlikely, after casting such a spell, that Mac would be able to cast anything beyond a basic spell and even those would take a toll and a great deal of effort. These spells are always vocalized, often in a chant included in a ritual. These spells take time and preparation, both for the ritual work, and for the mental/grounding state Mac needs to find herself in. Often for these spells, Mac seems to be in another plane or in deep meditation. While she can hear the world around her, she doesn’t answer to it. Examples: Purification Rituals, Removing a Curse, Contacting Spirits. 

•Mastery Spells: These are spells that require a great deal of focus, however, the energy surpasses anything that Mac possesses. This is where calling upon the gods comes in. This type of magic ALWAYS comes with a price, often it is the caster or the one who requested the spell who pays the price. The Price is determined by the god that is called upon for the favor, given after the spell is cast. The debt must be paid or honored for the spell to be completed. Cheating the gods out of the debt owed results in curses, wrath, or worse. Mac very rarely uses this type of magic as she has paid a steep price in the past for doing so. It’s considered a very last resort for her. Examples: Saving/Bringing someone back from the dead, changing the natural order of things, lifting powerful curses of magic beyond the witches power. 

Power Influxes

So for starters, Mac is afflicted. This particular “gift,” as per lore, has heightened her abilities. Due to the worgen being tied to Elune, this is known to heighten the minor nature magic abilities of Gilnean witches (or other regions) to the point where The Cenarion Circle has welcomed them with open arms and offered to teach them to hone their gifts. This doesn’t mean that they can stand shoulder to shoulder with the big boys and girls, but it gets them a step closer.

There are other times or happenings where an influx of power is something I write into my character’s personal magical talent. Some of these are a personal preference from grey areas of lore and some are from pagan traditions and beliefs. 

•Phases of the Moon: The moon can definitely impact Mac’s spellwork. While its waxing and waning hold no real sway over her, the Full Moon is a potent time for her. Due to her affliction, her more primal side begins to show, and as such, her natural gifts are much more prominent. Spells come to her with ease, as if she is a fertile font of energy. While this by no means allows her to cast Mastery Spells with the snap of her fingers, difficult spells such as Advanced are much easier on her body/energy levels. Note: Azeroth has  two moons. The White Lady and The Blue Child. Phases of the moon are in relation to the larger of the two moons as it has been a constant presence, as well as, its ties to Elune. 

•Solstice/Equinox/Holidays/Celestial Events: Because I have derived a great deal of Mac’s system from pagan beliefs, she honors their traditions and important festivals throughout the year. Most, tie in with a specific In-Game Holiday, and Mac simply puts a witchy spin on it. Each festival, or solar event, impacts her magic in specific ways. For Beltane, fertility is boosted. For Imbolc, purification becomes easier. For Samhain, communicating with the spirits becomes easier as the veil between planes thins. Etc. 

•Coven Connection: While Mac is no longer in a coven, at one point she led one. A coven is simply an assemblage of witches. Given Mac’s inability to age and her long years as a practicing witch, she was the head of her coven in Gilneas before the fall. Her coven fell with the affliction, most of her fellow witches finding death rather than the curse. She has not sought out another coven, nor started a new one. However, due to the closely knit connection a coven has, the witches who are a part of one have the ability to share strength, using it to cast spells that would often be beyond an individual's capability. 

Rituals

Now, with spells that require more than just a few words and the wiggling of fingers, there are rituals. These are simply ceremonies passed down to through the ages, to incorporate a more intricate spellwork by ancient steps taken to amplify a spell, honor the gods, or protect the witch from harm while in a “meditative state”. There can be several ways to utilize ritual spellwork through roleplay. Listed below are some of the methods one might see Mac utilize. 

•Offerings: These are benign objects that are offered to the gods as Tribute. A gift to watch over the witch as she practices or perhaps something to honor a specific deity for favor or other personal beliefs/reasons. Example: Leaving food on an altar or tossing it into the fire. Pouring Whiskey/Booze into the Earth/Sea. 

•Personal Objects: These are often used to channel a spell through the item, towards the person it belonged to. Often times these personal items are spelled with an intent, like a Voodoo doll, or destroyed in the process of the cast, like a curse or blessing cast from a distance. 

•Candles, Salt, Herbs: Often these are used for some manner of protection or magical amplification. 

•Sacrifice: This doesn’t mean finding a virgin or slaughtering a lamb, though it could if that is your wish. This is more a price that will be paid to spur the spell into action. Sometimes this is the simple act of offering blood… sacrificing a bit of the witches lifeforce as a show of her commitment. Other Times, the sacrifice exacts a higher price.

•Symbols: Don’t forget your symbolism, loves. Spellwork that requires a ritual is usually vocal and visual. Symbols drawn on the ground with precision or carved into an item for potency. These really add to the ambiance of a casting scene. 

Witches in the World

Now that I’ve covered the basics of how I go about Roleplaying my Witch, I would like to touch base on something rather prickly. I understand this is 2018. However… In World of Warcraft, The Age of Enlightenment… this is not. As per lore, the world in which we play  is a very LIGHT heavy setting. What does this mean for witches? It means they are often frowned upon, misunderstood, shunned, persecuted, or as we’ve seen in Drustvar… cast into the Reenactment of Monty Python.

My personal headcanon for Mac reflects this. While she, at times, will point out her unique practice… she knows her audience. She’s not about to go march through the Cathedral and speak of spells, rituals, and the Wild Gods. It’s best to do a bit of digging and see who falls where on the Witchy Acceptance List. Keep in mind, this means if you are playing a harvest witch… most people are likely going to be okay with you. If you have built a house made of candy in the woods and are eating children after you roast them alive in an oven… chances are you’re not going to have a lot of fans. 

And there we have it! My stance on Warcraft Witchcraft. If you have any questions, feel free to hit up my ASK box. Comments, same thing! If you’ve been triggered and have nothing better to do with your day than bitch and complain about my personal style of witch roleplay, which impacts you in no personal way at all,  please click the following link so that you can convey your thoughts in the preferred method. <Instruction Link!>  

[we-were-legends]

“Champion’s dawn”

Chapter 2 - “Keep it up!”

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Oropher closed the door when he left and he went closer to Saida who was waiting for him some distance away. He fixed his questioning gaze on her and crossed arms on his chest, waiting patiently to what she had to say and Saida started to explain.

‘Our training has not went as it should' she said. 'Taranir is livid and as you know it rarely happens. Alagos and Orthon are no better.'

'What happened?'

‘You see, Halloth’ she began and Oropher closed his eyes at lone mention of him. ‘And Amrun and Tinnu have triggered some heavy belt artillery that were taken out for renovation. The missiles destroyed a stable extension that was being rebuilt and roof of the building partially collapsed. Horses scattered around to escape but by now I believe that all of them are caught. Fortunately, there are no casualties, I believe that even the horses are unharmed. And I think that Mablung will want to speak with you-‘

‘Alright, I know enough.’ Oropher said as he rubbed his forehead feeling his blood getting warmer. ‘Remind me why I thought that it was a good idea to join them to our team?’

‘Because you have a good heart.’ Saida said. ‘Amrun would have been fine, but Halloth and Tinnu would have been lost in the great army of Menegroth.’

‘And at this very moment I regret this good heart of mine.’ he grumbled under his nose and in no time they were leaving the Palace and walking down the roads of Menegroth that will lead them to lower level of the city where the army fields were placed.

As they walked arm to arm, Oropher glanced on Saida at the tip of his eye. She was the only elleth in his division – his own team with whom he trained and performed duties. As a General of Doriath, Oropher needed higher officers who carried his orders and lead six regiments that marched under Oropher’s Banner. And soldiers in his division were those officers he needed and each of them had at least one regiment under their lead.

Orthon as spearmaster by profession held in hands heavy cavalry and along with officers of two other Banners they were performing frequent manoeuvres and trainings together so their cavalry will be a single impenetrable wall during charge. Faron supervised the archers – Oropher decided to have two full regiments of them. Alagos, Saida and Nelledir respectively had one regiment of swordsmen under themselves.

Taranir, as his second in command, held them together with iron fist. He watched over the progress of their troops and as one of the leading strategists he decided which divisions should train together to master specific arrays. Taranir was known to personally supervise training he ordered and with his eyes of a falcon he was able to catch every detail and tiny mistake that prevented the soldier to learn and train as good as they should. Oropher trusted Taranir absolutely and without question and since they held each other in friendship it was so much easier for them to cooperate.

Oropher’s division formed during their basic training when they joined the army. They were small team at the beginning counting five soldiers – beside Oropher there was Taranir, Alagos, Orthon and Nelledir. Later on he invited Faron to join his division, during more dangerous and turbulent times there was also Elhador, field medic, who was joining them for their duties outside the city. Even Halloth, Amrun and Tinnu joined his division by clear Oropher’s wish, but with Saida it was different. She already belonged to another division and she already served her duty with them quite a lot, but at one point Saida decided to grab the bull by antlers and take from life what she wanted – it was Saida who asked Oropher to allow her to become one of his soldiers.

Oropher remembered that when he looked at her he knew immediately that she was not a warrior for his team, not at that time. She was a simple grey soldier among many in the army – her old division belonged to Nelledir’s regiment and they were not known to be very ambitious, thus they were given simpler duties like transporting wood or beetroots and hay for the horses. And there was a reason why Saida ended up in this team – at that time she was not strong enough to make her words heard and stand her ground to take over leadership. She was just this – a grey soldier among many and even if she was talented in weapon mastery and had potential to grow, without confidence, independence and belief in herself, she wouldn’t have ever became one of Oropher’s division and moreover, a higher officer.

Oropher took her in, not because he wanted to train her, but to prove her that she won’t manage to overcome her nature and lack of confidence. An example – that’s what he said to her back then, that he will make example out of her for everyone to see. There was no pity for Saida when she couldn’t make a step without grimacing at her strained muscles, there was no pity for her when her knees were swollen and bloody from kneeling on rough plank, no pity when she was leaving trainings with bruised bones and dirty with mud and soil. Oropher knew that Saida wanted more from life than what she had, but she didn’t understand what being an officer truly meant, what being a soldier of his division truly meant. He was sure that Saida will fail, that she won’t rise above the walls that limited her and which she built around herself on her own will.

Saida not only crumbled every wall around her, but she also proved what she was made of. It took a lot to achieve that, Oropher even brought her to tears once with his words. Back then he was able to do it – Saida was vulnerable, used to follow rather than lead and she didn’t know what he expected from her, but once she did, once she understood that the only thing that limits her is herself, it went downhill like a snowball. She needed impulses which Oropher gave her, but it was Saida who forged herself to greatness.

When they were going down the corridor straight to the fields, he could already hear furious Taranir who didn’t spare his own voice to scold young soldiers for what they have done. When they fully entered military area only then Oropher had possibility to see the destruction that Saida mentioned earlier. Some horses were still taken care of and relocated since ruined stable was not fit to hold any animal inside and many field technicians and soldiers gathered to help in bringing the place to order. Belt artillery stood as it was, taken from hangars for renovation since those were not used on daily basis in the army and truth be told, Oropher remembered that last time those were used was during the First Battle, almost an age ago.

Near the artillery stood his three youngest soldiers, Taranir walked back and forth in front of them, his brown wolf eyes flashed at them furiously. In his shadow lingered Nelledir and Orthon, like dangerous promise and they as well watched three undisciplined soldiers.

‘There were eager to train, but we practiced arrays on horses they don’t yet know.’ Saida said and she shrugged her shoulders a bit. ‘I guess we left the kiddos unsupervised for too long. And poor Alagos’s young horse almost got a heart attack when the missiles fired.’

Oropher could imagine the poor horse with ears perked up, standing straight up on shivering legs and ready anytime to run. At least it was good that the steed didn’t panic.

When he approached three soldiers, any brief smile that was once on his face faded immediately and Halloth, Amrun and Tinnu were met with his unwelcoming eyes, but while Amrun and Tinnu were showing a little bit of remorse, Halloth still had this sassiness in his light brown eyes and there was no shade of remorse in his eyes.

Seeing him approach, Taranir stopped his tirade and Oropher took his place in front of the soldiers. Yelling won’t bring here any effect and they will feel on their skin what it truly meant to be a soldiers of his division.

‘On your ribs, soldiers!’ he commanded and watched them getting on the ground, preparing for push-ups and his eyes landed on most charismatic one. ‘Oh no, not you Halloth.’

Halloth halted and straightened up and Oropher saw a glint of strange triumph in his eyes, but young soldier was wise enough to remain silent and Oropher moved to stand right in front of him. Halloth was not shorter than him at all but Oropher towered over him with ease.

‘You are eager to train and you will train.’ Oropher said and he tilted head at the warriors who stood behind. ‘Orthon and Nelledir will make sure of that.’

Orthon snapped his fingers and mix of feelings on Halloth’s face told Oropher that he was aware of the hard time that was ahead of him. Without a word, Halloth passed by him and two warriors took him away. And of course once he will be back he will catch up with what Amrun and Tinnu had done when he was gone.

He looked down at soldiers who were holding up well. Whatever could be said about them, but all three of them were working out and training regularly and their condition was on point. But with what Oropher planned for them they will have strained muscles for Changes to come.

‘Move it, soldiers!’ he called to them standing in front of them with hands on back. ‘I heard you were bored, so I will give you the time of your life! You will think about it every time before it will ever cross your mind to be bored again!’

Amrun and Tinnu sped up just as they were expected and Oropher looked at their effort without remorse, but he didn’t stare at them for long. He looked up to see Saida sitting on a wooden fence nearby, sharpening her sword. There was a delicate smile on her face and perhaps she remembered her own time during such training so long ago.

Then Oropher looked to the side n the elves who were working around and cleaning up the mess at the stable. All of the construction that was renovated collapsed and even the roof further away fell down as well. It was a shame that such hard work was laid to waist and it was unforgivable, all because of stupidity of his soldiers. He will have to send Alagos to the supervisor of the workers and ask him to give them more days of rest and he will gain more coins for their payment. It will be simply fair since they will have to do the same work twice.

He saw Taranir and Faron among the crowd, discussing something with field technicians and from what he saw and architect arrived to the scene as well to evaluate destruction and decide if it won’t be more efficient to just build the stable anew. Alagos was surely lurking somewhere as well and maybe he was making sure that all the horses were accommodated in other stables.

His three young soldiers could be sure that Oropher won’t forget them this for a long time. And when they will be done now, Oropher will send them to clean the stables, one after another so the buildings will shine like marble floor in the Throne Room.

Hearing their faster breaths, Oropher looked down. He was keeping them for a while like that and their pace was fast and they knew precisely that they were not allowed to go any slower. Their muscles didn’t yet throbbed with a strain but it was visible that they already felt this effort.

‘Are you tired, soldier? Do you have enough?’ Oropher mocked as he walked closer and bended slightly above Tinnu.

‘No, Sir!’ he managed to gasp out in between push-ups and next heavy breath that followed indicated all too much that they definitely shouldn’t go any further in this work out.

‘Then keep going!’ Oropher thundered at both of them. ‘This is a military training! Not you inventive idea of what you can do!’

All they could do was carry on and keep up with expectations. Such overstraining body during work out would do no good and was definitely not recommended, but Oropher didn’t have a wish to make it a training for them to gain something. It was a punishment they will feel for long Changes to come. If they had too much energy then so be it, Oropher will make sure they won’t have it as much anymore.

Their behaviour was unforgivable and there was no place for it in Oropher’s ranks, let alone in his own division. From his own soldiers he expected the best – they were his elite and together they were division for others to follow. His young soldiers may not hold any rank within his ranks, but they will in the future or they won’t if they will keep up with leaping out with such stupidities.

Oropher was almost sure that it was most likely Halloth and Amrn who decided to have a better look at the artillery though it was surely Halloth who started to do something around it. Tinnu just followed them both and stood aside, just looking, but Oropher won’t play in dividing punishments – they were having what they deserved according to good old rule of group responsibility.

Unflinchingly, Oropher watched them gasp for every breath. Their armour didn’t at all with their struggle and weapons at their waists only heavied them more. Oropher didn’t care much about it. They will keep going until they will puke from exhaustion.

He turned and nodded at Saida and she caught up his thoughts immediately. She jumped from the fence and she went back to barn behind only to come back with four sacks of beetroots. She approached two struggling soldiers and with no remorse she placed one sack on Tinnu’s back and another one on Amrun’s back. Both of them gasped at more weight and their already tired muscled probably ripped out and thoughts of giving up already crossed their minds. But they kept going feeling steely gaze of their commanders on themselves.

‘Keep your pace!’ Oropher barked sharp order at them and he looked at Saida who stood behind Amrun and Tinnu and watched them with clouded eyes.

She had her brown hair gathered into ponytail just as she used to have it back then. Truth be told, Oropher never believed she will fit his elite. She came to him out of nowhere and asked to become one of his soldiers. She had glimpses of firmness and she had enough confidence to approach him with such request, but he saw how her courage slowly started to crumble before him. She was good head shorter than him and Oropher towered over her all too easily and this was yet another thing that spoke against her – insecurity was written all over her face and the fact that there was always someone looking down at her didn’t help at all.

Right now there was no sign of this insecure grey soldier she once was. She was not as Tinnu – shy and even sometimes fearful, but she was an average, never allowed to jump too high by others who had stronger personalities, she was never allowed to lead anyone and it showed. Confidence she developed that made her heard among the crowd of soldiers, independence, skills she gained in weapon mastery that allowed her to teach experienced warriors and belief in her leadership changed her to higher officer of his Banner and she stood on the lead of her own regiment with great successes. Those who doubted, including Oropher, had to bite their tongues and just where Oropher stood right now he couldn’t be more glad that Saida challenged herself to flourish.

His musings were interrupted by gasps of pain coming from Amrun and Tinnu. After long while of deadly push-ups in full armour and weighted down with beetroot sacks, they were already flooded with sweat and their struggling was all too clear. He silently nodded at Saida and she proceed to place second sack on each of their backs. Both of them almost broke under pressure and their hands shivered barely keeping them up.

‘No quitting!’ Oropher blasted at them immediately. ‘You want to have future in the army? Become an officer? You both want to be warriors out of legends and songs? Then act like it! In my ranks there is no place for foolishness and it’s high time for you to understand this!’

His sharp voice was carried far on the fields and alarmed few horses that were tied nearby. Oropher’s anger combined with flaming temper was explosive. It was known thing to be avoided and no one wished to bring on Oropher’s fury on himself and it was very unwise to cross his way.

When Oropher was granted the rank of a General it was followed by establishing a Third Banner in their army and Oropher stood at its lead. He was granted wolverine as a recognition symbol thus his soldiers marched under the Banner of the Wolverine. Two older Generals had their own – Haerdin had a Caugar Banner and Egnaspen had a Wolf Banner. Their supreme commander, Primus General Mablung, was graced with Queen’s nightingale and magnificent brooch made of silver glass embellished his uniform. Mablung’s House was known to be a Home of Warriors and though it was not numerous one they were known to train greatest warriors. It started with Mablung’s father, Egnass, who was Melian’s chosen warrior and she honoured his House with Queen’s nightingale. And it was inherited by both Egnass’s sons – Mablung and Delgaran.

Amrun and Tinnu grew more than tired, of that Oropher was sure. But there was still quite some time till next Change when he would meet with his father so it meant that he was still free to supervise two young soldiers for a good while.

He was drawn back from his musings when two loud thuds were heard and Oropher glanced down at two worn out forms laying on the ground and inhaling the air deeply, taking as much air as they could and they sweaty skin was dirty with soil here and there.

‘Tired, are you not?’ Oropher said rhetorically and he didn’t wait for any answer from them. ‘Up the bars!’

He watched them scramble from the ground, throwing heavy sacks off themselves and while they were doing this they tried to get themselves clean a bit.

‘Move it! Are you deaf?!’ he blasted at them immediately and not wanting to bring on themselves more of his anger, Amrun and Tinnu unsticked themselves from the ground faster.

As they were bidden they got themselves to the bars that were hanging up nearby and each of them jumped on their own one in no time rising themselves up and with each try their head had to be above the bar, they knew it too well. They tried their best to not caught eye contact with him and most likely they were too focused on their own strain and suffering rather than looking around.

All of sudden, Oropher remembered himself. He joined the army just with time when he was allowed to do so and he started off with a basic training as any other potential soldier. From the beginning he knew he will rise above everyone, there was no other option. He knew he will gather strongest warriors and they will be division for others to follow. He wanted to do it for himself to prove what he was capable of doing and that his temper and fiery character was not just a story. He wanted to do it for his father who was reluctant at first to let him become a warrior and he wanted to show his father how much this profession fitted him and that he was born to be a warrior. He wanted to do it for his uncle Galadhon who was once a soldier himself, a great General who lead the armies of Doriath to the First Battle for Beleriand.

Oropher completed basic training as one of the best and he was immediately disposed to be trained for an officer where he gathered his soldiers and together they formed a division. To this day Oropher wondered how his father managed to convince Egnaspen to keep an eye on him – the old general silently watched over his progress and then Oropher was disposed for duty in one of Egnaspen’s regiments, first as lieutenant, later as a captain. His time in Egnaspen’s ranks was crucial and it was the old commander who took his stubborn nature and flaming temper and shaped him into a soldier with sense of duty – him and his soldiers alike.

But their fierceness remained through all the centuries. All of them had in common this sharp glint in eyes, will and personality that didn’t hesitate to hear Oropher’s words neither to follow his strong leadership. They clinged to Oropher one after another and even Saida became one of them. Together they were known for their steadfast nature, hardiness, strength and fury in battle – they trained to be the greatest and they reached for everything that some said they could not have.

After centuries of hard work, harder battles and confrontations, the day had come that Oropher was granted a rank of a general and each of his soldiers became his officer. They were beyond proud when their Banner was raised for the first time and wolverine bared its fangs bravely. Eganspen’s gratulations were sincere that day and maybe only then Oropher truly appreciated all his teachings, those given straightly and silently and when Egnaspen said that he knew Oropher was ready for his duty, Oropher felt pleasant feeling of fulfilled task. That day he also received his uncle’s sword – Mountain Grass, embellished with pearls from Falas and topazes. Pride in Galadhon’s eyes and Erthor’s happiness meant a word to him back then and their appreciation overjoyed him.

His recalling memories ended when Nelledir and Orthon came back with bruised Halloth. From his grumpy expression, Oropher knew he didn’t like sword practice with two harsh warriors and he didn’t grace Halloth with a glance once he stopped before him massaging his arm and awaiting his words.

‘You companions are ahead of you in training so you better catch up with them.’ Oropher said as he watched Saida ordering Amrun and Tinnu to stop and as they did, she tied sacks around their waists and then she bid them to go on which they did with gasps of pain as they heavily tried to keep up the previous practice.

‘What do you mean to catch up?! I just finished-!’

Oropher looked at the young soldier and Halloth paused what he was saying, faltering under his crushing gaze. Oropher had not said a word. He stood tall with straight back and towered over Halloth, his green eyes brought to mind a jungle with sky above that was covered by storms.

Halloth’s confidence was backed by nothing. He was good in fight – he had nice technique, stamina and he was clever and this combined with his still developing strength and stamina gave him great potential but it was not yet something to be admired in him. The only thing that set him apart was his developing charisma – after all, Amrun and Tinnu were often fast to listen to him and adapt his ideas. But even this when mixed with Halloth’s non-serious behaviour didn’t make it threatening at all.

Oropher had no tolerance for disobedience and he held the soldiers of his Banner in iron grip. There was no option for Amrun, Tinnu and Halloth to stick out and Oropher will make sure to get rid if their ignorance. He will make them elite soldiers they aspired to be.

Amrun and Tinnu faltered almost at the same time – they fell from the bars on the ground with a thud and they only managed to crawl a bit away before throwing up what they had in their stomachs. Saida watched them impassively but Oropher still held Halloth under his fiery gaze.

‘The training is not yet over, soldiers!’ he called. ‘You friend Halloth has just arrived! You will keep him company since you are so eager to follow him instead of your officers!’

This time Oropher gave them a bit more time to scramble up, just enough of it for Orthon to come back with two more sacks of beetroots for Halloth.

‘Join them.’ Oropher growled shortly and without a word Halloth limped to his companions.

The next change was approaching. He hoped that at least his father was in better mood than he was and Oropher was almost sure of that. Erthor so very rarely was getting angry that it was hard to imagine what could happen for him to get over the edge over something.

‘Nelledir, speak with the supervisor of the field technicians. I want those working elves to have more days of rest after their work will be done.’ Oropher said as he turned to the warrior who stood nerby and Nelledir nodded, in a moment walking away. ‘Orthon, go to Mablung and inform him that I will meet him after I will make the incident report and evaluate the losses.’

When Orthon was gone Oropher turned to Saida who was still standing near the training elves and supervised them up close, sometimes hastening them.

Then a known presence made him focus up on his closest surroundings. A slight brush on his waist was followed by known scent of coal and steel – Alagos appeared near him with clever mind.

‘A wolverine suits you.’ Alagos said only for him to hear and he smiled delicately. ‘Send Saida away and let me take care of them.’

Alagos stood close enough to Oropher to play delicately with endings of Oropher’s hair that fell on his back. His hand lingered there for a moment but was quickly taken away to not provoke angered Oropher even more. Alagos was special among his soldiers and by special Oropher meant that Alagos held a place in his heart. Their close relation started so long ago that it felt as if Alagos was always there with his boldness, playfulness and known intentions. After so much time beside each other, presence of Alagos was everything he needed, depending on situation, and this time Oropher relaxed under known touch.

‘Saida!’ Oropher called and he was sure that Alagos smiled under his nose. When his soldier approached, he continued. ‘Alagos will take care of them. You will go to Celeborn and tell him that I will present him the costs of repair of the stable so he could include it in his reckoning. After this, check on my horse and bid the stable masters to do everything to make it able to work again.’

‘As you wish.’ Saida said and turned, already of her way through the fields to go and perform her orders.

Oropher snapped his fingers and for the last time he looked at his youngest soldiers struggling in their training before he turned to Alagos.

‘I am leaving them to you then.’ Oropher said with a delicate smile and he turned away to leave but as he passed by Alagos he brushed their fingers together in simple gesture of fondness. It never failed to bring smile on their faces.

Oropher knew that Alagos watched him go with a crafty smile, but he didn’t turn to look back at him. And Alagos shook his head, returning to watching undisciplined soldiers and thinking of more possibilities to make their work out even harder to forget.

[ecotone99]

The Eye Of The Altar [hr]

hey guys, just recently decided to give writing a bash. Here is the first draft of a story i'm working on any feedback or criticism is welcome thanks

​

Approaching the concierge desk, from the elevators across the lobby, was a short and plump middle-aged woman. She raced across the lobby furiously her luggage following closely behind in tow. By the time she had made her way to the desk her face her turned to a beetroot colour, either from the brisk walk she had made across the floor, this would be no surprise to anyone as at first glance it was easy to see this women wasn’t physically active very often, but what most people had already guessed was that she was enraged.

Ethan had just started his shift when he noticed the woman marching her way towards him, bulldozing her way through any guest that stood between her and her goal. As she drew closer to the desk, he could clearly see that the woman was furious. When she was within six feet of the desk, she screams at the top of her voice “there is mould in my room.”

“I’m so sorry to hear this, can I offer you a different room.” Ethan responded. Shocked at what he had just heard, never once had a customer complained of anything like this.

Almost insulted the woman barked back at the young man behind the desk “absolutely not! I will take a refund and leave”

After five minutes of apologising and processing the refund the short angry woman marched off out the front door and disappeared into the busy city streets. Startled by the possibility that the hotel could now have a mould problem. Ethan had decided that he would investigate the room himself the instant the woman had left the building. He had jotted down the women's room number on a small piece of paper so he wouldn’t forget it. Now that the women had left, he glanced down at the paper to refresh his mind “1410” it read, he quickly popped a sign onto the desk announcing to any guests that required his help, he would return shortly.

Making his way along the corridor of the fourteenth floor, filled with the usual hotel decorations, dark orange carpet with little red diamond designs running all across it, odd artworks that looked as if they had been designed by someone with no idea what they were doing. There was a horrible smell in the air, Ethan had the pinch his nose and lock his mouth shut otherwise he thought he might vomit. This putrid smell had taken over the entire floor, surely more of the customers on this floor had to notice this Ethan thought to himself.

Outside the old woman’s former room, still holding his nose and taking the smallest breaths possible, he produced the hotels master key card from his pocket, that he had quickly grabbed from his managers office, explaining the situation he was dealing with to his manger in the process. Slotting the key card into its position and watching the light flash green, indicating he can now enter, he takes small steps forward, one at a time, scared of what he might find

Nothing in Ethan's life could prepare him for what he could see inside the room. The carpet that had once matched the carpet in the hallway had numerous large spots of mould over its surface. Oddly the only affected place was the floor, from the smell he would have guessed the whole room was covered in this mysterious mould. Frantically he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and unlocked it with the speed of light. Scrolling through his contacts till he could find his mangers, buried under the endless numbers of women picked up in local bars and never to be heard from again.

The phone had barely rung once before Ethan heard the voice on the other side “Tell me it’s not bad.” Ethan could clearly hear the level of concern in his mangers voice

“Not good, the floor has quite a number of large spots of mould growing.” He calmly explained

“Fuck!” Shouted his manager, knowing this was going to be a large problem for them, it was the height of summer, the peak time for them, they could not afford to close no matter what.

Ethan went on explaining the smell of death that had engulfed the entire floor and that he was going to go door to door checking on each guest.

His manager agreed with his course of action and proposed that he would make his way up and assess the situation himself. Before putting down the phone he had one last request for Ethan “If you notice anything else call me instantly okay?”

No answer at the room directly next door. That didn’t strike Ethan as odd after all it was the middle of the afternoon on a hot summer day, most guest would probably be out exploring the city. After making his way six doors down from the room with the mould, going from one side of the hall to the other, an odd idea slipped into his head. He reached inside his pocket feeling his way past his phone and dragging out the master key again and slotting it into its rightful place. Aware of the fact he was breaking into a guest rooms he hesitated before eventually sliding the heavy wooden door open.

Once inside the room he instantly scanned it from top to bottom. Roof appeared fine, nothing off with the walls, down to the bed everything seemed to be exactly how it should be, but as soon as his eyes approached the floor, he could make out very small patches of the same mould that had been in larger gatherings down the hall. From behind the bed he spotted something sticking out, quickly realising it was the legs of whoever had rented this room for their stay. Dashing across the mouldy orange carpet and round the side of the bed, he found a young man that couldn’t be much older than himself, they looked oddly similar besides the fact that this man's hair was a dark brown and Ethan's a bleach blond.

Staring down at the man Ethan came to the conclusion that he had fainted and he must try to wake him. Grabbing the man's right arm, that was stretched out straight away from the man's body, he gave it a shake, shouting asking if the man could hear him at the same time. No response came.

Once Ethan had gotten off the phone with his boss, who was now racing to the fourteenth floor after the latest piece of news Ethan had relayed back to him, he made his way back along towards room 1410 where all this had stared. Prior to the phone call he had made his way through another three rooms and finding each room to be in the exact same situation as the previous room he entered. Small spots of mould growing on the floor, putrid smell of decaying corpses and the guest passed out on the floor unresponsive and unable to be woke up. He had checked each customer to ensure they were still alive, which each of them was, now he had no idea what to do. He walked back along to the old women's room, each step he made he could feel himself getting slower and slower, by the time he had made it back along the hall he could barely stand.

Ethan’s eyes shot open wide instantly. Quickly he shot his gaze around the room. He was on a hotel bed, judging by the size of the mould spots he was in 1410. Around the bed stood three white hazmat suits, unable to see any features of the people occupying the suits, fencing him in. The moment his eyes had opened the three suits around him had jumped back out of shock and then proceeded to converse with each other. In the corner of the room there looked like someone had made a hole in the floor behind one of the suits. Everything that he had dreamed of still vividly rang in Ethan’s head. Unable to hide his fear of what he seen.

After five minutes of him darting his eyes around the room, processing everything in front of him he sat up in the bed slowly. Each suit watched on intently, presumably making sure he wasn’t going to make a run for it, before one of them motioned to someone outside of the contaminated room. Striding with a confident swagger came another suit, most likely whoever was in charge of whatever faction of the government this was.

As this final suit stood at the side of Ethan’s bed mumbling on about something that Ethan couldn’t quite hear. Through the constant droning speech of the suit Ethan heard one word that stroke fear into him.

“Altar” Ethan repeated as if learning the language for the first time.

“Yes! The altar you know of it?” Asked the stranger in the overly white suit, Ethan could now tell that this was a woman underneath, from his guess she sounded in her early thirties.

“Seen altar” Ethan replies, still struggling to grasp the language that he once had a mastery over

“You’ve seen the altar? Did you put it there?” The woman snapped the questions back almost before Ethan had finished speaking.

These last two questions had put a shudder down the spine of the young man now trapped in the bed. Shaking his head was the only way he could respond to questions that had put the images from his deep sleep back into his head.

After a long ten minutes of firing questions at the patient in the bed Colleen pulled back. In her entire time with the CDC she had never seen anything like this. While enjoying her day off sitting in front of the tv catching up on her soaps, her boss had phoned her up and explained the situation that was unfolding at the hotel, intrigued by the odd anomaly of every guest on the floor falling into a deep coma she rushed upstairs, packed what she thought would be enough outfits to get her by and headed out the door towards the oddest case of her whole career. That was four days ago

After two days in the hotel everything seemed bleak. They had quarantined the entire hotel as soon as they arrived, confining everyone to floors that they were staying on. Not a single person had woken up on the fourteenth floor after two days, and the spread continued across the same floor, they had combed the rest of the hotel assuming they would find more of this mystery mould located elsewhere inside. Their checks had proved them wrong; the substance was confined to the floor alone.

Another day passed with no more of a clue of what was happening than the first day. At a loss of idea Colleen decided they should lift the carpet up from the room the mystery mould had first been reported in, also in which they had found a hotel employee passed out on the floor. Lifting the employee, the manager had identified to them as Ethan, on to the bed so that they could get to work on tearing up the carpet. Collen thought they were probably doing the hotel a favour in getting rid of the carpet. Why did hotels always have terrible décor? She asked herself.

Once the carpet had been pulled from it place, it revealed exactly what Colleen had feared it was coming from underneath this floor. After a long exhausting question and answer session with the manager she had come to find out that it should just be empty space below it. A lot of hotel owners are superstitious and don’t build a thirteenth floor, this was one of them he explained. Somehow something was growing from this space between floors. She had to get into there and find out more. Everyone on her team worked day and night. For those first three days.

On the morning of the fourth day they had lifted the floorboards of room 1410, starting in the corner of the room and not making it a foot before they discovered a ladder hidden beneath the floorboards. Once this odd discovery was made, she went back to question the manager. Who claimed to have no idea that it existed. How convenient she thought. After near an hour of debate her and her team had decided they would follow the ladder down into the depths of the hidden floor.

Leading the way down was Colleen, first to discover the wonder of the hidden floor. After a very short climb she disembark from the ladder and moved to the side allowing the rest of her team to join her. She brought her flashlight up in front of her providing the only source of light that this flor had seen since construction presumably. One quick glance around her was all Colleen needed to come to the conclusion that the mould had originated here. Walls were covered in its sickly green hue, the floor too, the horrible shape of the orange carpet with the red diamonds had been replaced by the sickly grotesque green. Upon further inspection of the room she could see no door on any walls, climbing towards the sky was the only exit. While inspecting the walls for any other entrance or exit she caught something odd in the middle of the room. At first glance it looked like an altar that had been completely covered in mould. Surely not she thought to herself. An altar on a hidden floor of a hotel which claimed to have no knowledge of anything. Every second got stranger and stranger for Colleen. Approaching the altar in the middle of the room, it looked like no altar she had ever seen in her life, beside the mould covering it, strange markings ran along the side of it. What seemed even weirder to Colleen than the foreign markings, was that the mould had spread around the markings. Impossible Colleen exclaimed inside her own head. Somehow it had made its way across the altar and consciously decided to leave the markings alone. “Amazing!” Colleen remarked this time out loud.

Colleen returned to the room, with Ethan still confined to the bed, with an idea. Somehow this man had knowledge of the altar and she needed to know what it was. Her genius idea was to take Ethan down to the room with them. Informing her team of the plan and the fact that she would go alone with the young man. Many protested the idea but she made it very well known that it she had no intentions of changing her mind.

She led the way downwards to the room hidden within the hotel. She reached the bottom quicker than her first visit, aware of the excitement she was clearly showing as she finally had a small amount of insight into the mysteries of the room. Flashing the light from her torch on yet again in the space between floors. She was shining the light right onto the altar, unaware of Ethan's progress in joining her, when from behind her came a sudden scream. She spun on her heels to see Ethan on his knees, mouth open as wide as humanly possible

The only sound that anyone in the hotel could hear was the screams of the man kneeling before the altar.

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The Flawless Ringcraft of Joanna Jedrzejczyk

At UFC 211, faced with a ferocious challenger, Joanna Jedrzejczyk put on one of the finest performances of her lengthy combat sports career. Over twenty-five minutes Jedrzejczyk proved herself head and shoulders above Jessica Andrade not through any god given talent or magic, but through economical, scientific striking, mastery of distance, and superior ring generalship. Being powerful or fast is impressive, having the smarts and discipline to do the right thing every time for twenty-five minutes takes a level of fight smarts and heart that few appreciate. Every fighter in the world can be taught to circle out when they get near the fence, but most are apt to forget it as soon as they start breathing heavy, eat a good punch, or feel like they can land some heavier shots by standing still. But that is why Joanna Jedrzejczyk is so special; she is a cut above the vast majority of MMA fighters who have ever played the game.

Master of Range

The story of the fight was Jedrzejczyk's control of range. Just as Angela Hill showed in her barnburner with Andrade earlier in the year, Andrade can be troubled if kept on the end of a lancing jab and long, snappy kicks. Jedrzejczyk got to work with her jab almost immediately and used low kicks from a distance to connect at a reach on Andrade's lead leg. The distancing on the kicks was especially important because stepping in to slam in a power kick with the middle of the shin to the meat of the thigh often gives Andrade her chance to bum rush. Committing to the right hand was what got Hill caught often in that fight, and Jedrzejczyk had brushes with the same issues when she stepped deep to throw her right hand to the body or failed to incorrectly anticipated Andrade's position.

Jedrzejczyk also did great work with her trademark right straight to the body. In previous performances, Jedrzejczyk has often used this when her opponent is against the fence and squared up. Against the square stanced Andrade it worked well as Andrade pursued. It also caused a couple of Andrade rare steps backwards in this fight. Once it has been established that a fighter has a cinderblock for a head, body work is always a good shout.

Breaking the Line

But if this fight were fought on a straight line, regardless of how crisp Jedrzejczyk's jab was, Andrade would have had a field day. Rushing in behind haymakers is Andrade's whole game, after all. It was Jedrzejczyk's work as the ring general that enabled her to keep resetting the distance, pounding in her jab and kicks, and escaping punishment. Ringcraft is often seen as a solution to a problem—you're stuck on the fence, do this—when in fact everything the fighter does in the ring should be done with ringcraft in mind. Junior dos Santos' tendency to only circle out once his buttocks touch the fence saw him catch a couple of Western Lariats against Stipe Miocic at UFC 211. As with most things in fighting, preventing a problem ahead of time is far better than having to answer it.

Reviewing the fight you will notice that the vast majority of Jedrzejczyk's circling out begins not by the fence, but within the interior octagon made of black lines on the mat. By constantly breaking the line and making Andrade turn, not simply circling out when she needed to, Jedrzejczyk kept Andrade following and playing catch up. Andrade kept moving forward, but moving forward without controlling where the fight takes place, Andrade was only controlling the pace at which she got hit.

The neat jump off line low kick which Jedrzejczyk shows in most of her fights. Not particularly relevant to the current discussion but I wanted to get it into this article somehow.

Readers will also notice that the majority of Jedrzejczyk's side stepping was done in combination with retreat. The standard forty-five on the rear side, this carries the fighter off line but also serves to lengthen the opponent's left hand. Andrade's clothesline left hook fell short over and over again even as Jedrzejczyk was circling to that side because of this.

Jedrzejczyk isn't infallible of course, she did occasionally find herself too close to the fence to simply glide back and circle around. It was then that she demonstrated a nice variation of the classical side step—using a switch step to make the best use of the space underneath her. With no room behind her, Jedrzejczyk could still retreat from her stance and use the space that had been underneath her to cut a cleaner angle.

Withdrawing her left foot, back and to the left, Jedrzejczyk went into a side step to her right. It's a small move and easy to miss in the midst of a fight, but this method of side stepping has been important to scientific boxer for decades. It is especially useful to the side on boxer with a long stance.

The hilarious carny boxer, Champ Thomas had some interesting thoughts on this technique and it gelled well with his philosophy that once the backfoot hits the bottom rope the stance should be maintained unless the fighter himself collapses it to utilize this escape. Thomas despised fighters going to the ropes, squaring their feet and putting the earmuffs on and believed that all boxing should be done from a wide stance. Thomas insisted that this side step, 'his' sidestep was a lifesaver and in his books recounts narrowly escaping being stabbed with a broken scotch bottle when caught against a wall. All Champ Thomas stories should be taken with a grain of salt, but his boxing advice was always rock solid and his belief in this side step was well founded. Thomas insisted "Both feet move at the same time. If you step back with your left foot, then forward with your right foot, then move your body to the right… your sidestep is worthless."

In addition to her constant lateral movement and leading Andrade all around the cage, Jedrzejczyk made excellent use of head control. At the highest levels boxing becomes a lot more like wrestling—you will notice Floyd Mayweather and Vasyl Lomachenko manipulating their opponent's head constantly. When Andrade lunged in to swing Jedrzejczyk would stiff arm her forehead or face and circle off, or pull down on the back of Andrade's head to throw her past. If Jedrzejczyk didn't feel she could circle out, or felt she could land a good knee, she would slap on the double collar tie and dig a knee before breaking the line once again. Angela Hill showed the double collar tie to be effective against Andrade, but Jedrzejczyk rarely had cause to use it on the fence and instead worked it in brief spurts out in the open.

Resetting the distance over and over again without getting stuck in trades along the fence meant that Jedrzejczyk could shine a light on the very limited nature of Andrade's striking. It has been refreshing to see Jessica Andrade adding body work over the last couple of years, and doubling up on punches, but in closing the distance she still only has one way of doing the job: run in swinging the left hook. Her head movement is extremely limited, often simply pulling back and leaving her a sitting duck for punches after she has been feinted out of position. Most importantly, Andrade palms for the jab constantly and wildly. Each time her opponent's lead shoulder moves Andrade will perform a lengthy paw at the expected punch. We discussed this being cat nip for a scientific striker in our prefight piece Can Jessica Andrade Kill the Queen ?

As expected, Jedrzejczyk immediately went to work attempting to exploit this. Using the jab throughout the fight as her main offence, Jedrzejczyk look to throw a high kick behind Andrade's right hand as the latter reached to parry punches, real or imagined.

The set ups for the left high kick were varied. Jedrzejczyk attempted to time the crouching Andrade coming in, attempted to flick them in after the jab, and even used the left low kick to step back into a southpaw stance and then attempt a long left high kick from her new stance.

Just as this writer was thinking "it would be nice to see Joanna slot in a long left hook around Andrade's parrying hand", the champion did it.

What is Next?

Joanna Jedrzejczyk's path is clear from here: Rose Namajunas is next in line after destroying Michelle Waterson with little trouble. Jessica Andrade's next step is a little more complicated. She has been heaped with praise for the fact that she kept walking forward and trying to do all that she knows for five rounds while laughing at the hundreds of strikes the champion tagged her with, but equally there are some major improvements needed in order to avoid the division simply passing her by in the next couple of years. Obviously a much better understanding of ring cutting would be necessary for a rematch with Jedrzejczyk but the ring craft everywhere else in MMA is generally such an afterthought that if she never actually worked on it she might still force the next few top straw weights she fights to the cage.

The next consideration is that when Andrade does move to close the distance, she needs other ways to do it. Ducking in and swinging a straight armed left hook just won't cut it all the time and she had no alternatives against Jedrzejczyk. The one inside low kick she used against Jessica Penne put her in perfect position to land her blows, a la Dan Henderson, but seemed to completely surprise even Andrade. Andrade's attempts to kick with Jedrzejczyk looked awkward and unpractised. But the thing about low kicks is that even if you are fighting someone with much prettier, snappier low kicks, they have to do something about yours—whether that be retract the leg or check—and that can open up the chance to close the distance or move the fighter to the fence.

The inside low kick is especially useful when the opposing fighter is leaving their stance to side step out. Then it can be slammed into the undefended trailing leg, provided the attacking fighter can get close enough to step deep with it. We also mentioned in our pre-fight piece that being the shorter fighter does not mean that the jab is useless, just that it is shorter than the opponent's. Mike Tyson used a dipping jab masterfully to close the distance, bloodying noses and bruising sternums in the process. Roberto Duran also used to get in on larger opponents by flicking out the jab and ducking in, in anticipation of a return. This was also how Duran landed his best body shots, as the opponent opened up their elbows and exposed their ribs to fire back—so the old jab-and-duck is definitely something that Jessica Andrade could learn from.

The ceiling on Jessica Andrade's toughness and strength is a high one: if she can fight her natural inclination to just swing and add some science on top of it—as Cris Cyborg has done in recent years—she could come back as a much more severe threat to Joanna Jedrzejczyk's crown in the future. But that is what makes Joanna Jedrzejczyk one of MMA's most educational fighters to study regardless of weight or gender—she doesn't ask questions of her challengers, she does her homework on each and comes in with a menu of technical and tactical looks tailor made to defuse everything that challenger is offering. UFC 211 was a masterful showing from Jedrzejczyk, and perhaps her best to date.

Pick up Jack's new book, Notorious: The Life and Fights of Conor McGregor .

The Flawless Ringcraft of Joanna Jedrzejczyk published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv