#synric

[synric-silversong]

Spiritual Emotions

(Character reflection of a discord rp)

mentions: @divergent-lines​

Synric left the house shortly after Mey had informed him of the extra rooms. He had nodded, he remembered that much, but after that he couldn’t focus. Had he said he would step out to check on his wolf-hawk first? The cool breeze was a nice distraction and the silence was more welcoming than the buzz of people around.

               Today had felt like many days in one. Starting out with an easy, carefree flight through the mountains, ending with a nice long walk through the snowy mountainside to transition into a mix of emotional dishevel and distress and confusion.

               Synric sighed as he leaned his arm against the tree, resting his forehead on top of it. Despite the shift in the day, it hadn’t been hard to adjust to the changes, but he had felt like he needed to be a steady, unmoving pillar for the rest of them. It was a feeling he had not liked and no matter how much he tried fighting it, his body and words counteracted him. He needed to stay steady and strong for those who couldn’t.  A conundrum of his own thoughts for sure, and something he needed to file away and figure out why. Another puzzle of himself.

               Night time buzzing from the bugs grabbed his attention for a time, and so too did the presence of the wolf-hawk who Synric could feel staring straight into him. He should move, make some attempt to check on the wolf-hawk as he had agreed. Yet…

               He mean’s ‘in spirit’ literally.

Death.

He is your father.

Dead.

               Father? Synric shook his head. It was best not to think about it as Mey had remarked. Best not to think about it too hard. He agreed. He wouldn’t, he would push himself off the tree and look over the wolf-hawk and….

               Synric felt a tickle on his cheek, up to swat whatever it was, he froze when he felt and saw the water droplet on his finger. An image wanted to come to his mind. He could practically see it; so strong the emotion was that it refused to follow the routine of what had been happening. There were lines forming in the darkness and if he could just reach out….

               A pain fiercely gripped at his heart and Synric fell to his knees gasping for breath. The pain surged from his heart, wrapping around his chest, pulling him in, squeezing. A soft whine came beside him. Synric ignored the whine, focusing on his breathing, watching as heavy tears fell from his cheeks and disappeared into the grass under his knees.

               The squeezing began to subside after a short time, though it felt like long minutes. Weak, and his heart racing, Synric collapsed against the grass as the whine that turned into a snort was soon followed by the warmth of the wolf-hawk wrapping around him.  The tears kept running, the emotion undeniable. There was something terrible in those lost memories, terrible enough to leave a lingering connection so strong it affected him physical.

               Synric closed his eyes. Yes, it was better not to think about it too hard.  

[thefracturedmosaic]

Truths Within (2/4)

Part 1 Family Reunion

Part 2 Truths Within

Part 3 Refugee Meetings

Part 4 Doctor’s Memories

In the gentle pull of the night breeze, Nairus stared down into the shimmering water. The distant cries and constant noise of the city was gone, too far away to be heard, too far away to be felt, yet the small settlement of farms just beyond the forest’s tree never gave him a sense of isolation as he wanted.

Though the moon was only a crescent of its former glory, it was bright enough that he could see the lines of his own body being reflected back like dark shadows. The sounds of the night time critters had been quiet for sometime, leaving only a blank silence, that was welcoming and reassuring. 

It was the only time he could clearly think, too let down the walls he instinctively build up when people were around; those walls protected him from the scorn of love ones coming to view their dying family member, the pleading eyes of the dying as he lied to them about being able to help only to ease them to their death so it felt like nothing but sleep til their own bodies gave way. He needed to shun and lose all sense of who he was leaving only what was important and logical for diagnoses and understanding. He needed those walls when the trauma of the wounded would shout and curse and blame him. Trauma… Was that the reason for his memory issue? The magic’s ritual had done something to seal his memories of the time away, but now if it was no longer there as his sister had led him to believe, then what was keeping those memories from resurfacing? 

Nairus closed his eyes as he looked away from the water surface and faced the trees and their shifting leaves. 

Walls. He didn’t want to remember. Too much pain for his mind to take on its own. Maybe he should go see a doctor to help him. 

A silent breeze passed by, brushing back his robes into the rock he sat upon, exposing his feet to its cold touch. 

Even if he saw a doctor, he already knew what the process would be, he could do it on his own.

Silently the breeze returned, putting his robes back neatly in the grass so it covered his feet once more.  

If he was his own patient, he would recommend a specialist. 

But that will get me discharged. And where could I work where my father and his many friends wouldn’t be able to watch me and report back every little thing I do? 

 There was a few ticks of silence. 

I could just start my own business. But with what money? 

Some time passed, and Nairus found himself staring back at the water's reflection. During those bits of silence, he found himself wandering back to the red-headed man. What had he called himself? Madivh? His eyes closed at the name, feeling that familiar pull, but where curtains should have pulled back slowly, he could easily picture a face to that name. A different face, yet the eyes and hair were the same. His mind stuttered with sudden realization. A memory so faded that he could not bring anything to mind except the two names his sister had mentioned. Neia and Savian.

That man was connected to those two people, he knew it deep down inside, like he had known Mey was not lying about the boy, Synric, who he had been taking care of until he had been stabbed. 

Nairus’s hand drifted to his stomach. Even though months had passed since then, he could still feel the slide of metal cutting through him as easily a knife through butter, and the man’s maniacal grin; it sent a cold shiver through his spine, and the forest seemed to retreat from him and the wind began to settle leaving the air heavy and cold.

Be silent. He thought towards himself and forced a deep long breath. Slowly, he began to unclench his tight fingers and let his arms lay back in his lap. 

A sigh long and heavy escaped him.

Faint tweeting from small birds began to pierce the night air, and as Nairus raised his gaze to the sky, he could see the touch of deep purple. Again, he took in a deep breath and began lifting those walls he had carefully pulled down beforehand in his solitude. He didn’t need them all up yet, but he needed just a  few to get him moving enough. As the chirping began to increase all around him, Nairus finally pushed himself up and began moving towards the treeline fading into the shadows of the trees and allowing them to consume him. 

[neiablackwood]

Conversation

Mentions: @savianblackwood​ @synric-silversong​

Sanas eyed the naked girl with a bit of disappointment. “I tried to warn you,” he said as he turned away and walked towards the bathroom. Within he found a small closet that had a stack of large towels. He picked one and made his way back out into the hallway where she laid. Laying the towel on her as a protective layer against him and the grim she had collected on her fall before proceeding to tie the towel around her; it wasn’t the best, the towel was shorter than her, of course, but at least he didn’t need to touch her and she wasn’t showing everything off anymore.

Sanas glanced back towards his work hanging from the ceiling fan. Richard was already dead before he tied him up there, he wasn’t heartless, but it looked gruesome and unnecessary. And it set up his story well.  

This job perhaps had to have been the longest he had worked in a while. Richard had been a careful and paranoid man. Normally paranoid made it easy, but the careful nature did not. Nonetheless, the job was done, thanks to this women. Even if his original story was twisted right at the last second. Now back through the bedroom door, the dead body guard had a knife wound in the front, the wrestling match inside would tell a story of an argument gone wrong even though it was a mix of this girl's frantic attempt at escape and a little of his own tossing things around. Back in the living room, the dead body of the second guard laid in the chair looking up at Richard’s body. A pistol set in the guards hand, and a gunshot wound to his head; Sanas used a little magic to conceal the other wound, even if they thought about disenchanting any illusion spells, the wound was a small pin prick of poison. He doubted they would check anything in the blood. 

Everything was set as good as it could be for last minute changes. Not perfect, as he liked, there were small things that couldn’t be explained away, but what he heard as he finished off Richard in the hallway and the wave of shadow magic that rolled through him prickling his skin, he felt there was something special about this woman.

His gaze shifted down to the weight in his arm. Though, it wasn’t too late to reset the scene. She was passed out, she wouldn’t even realize she was dead; it would be a peaceful passing. 

It would be a more solid story if the girl was involved.

Sanas weighed his thoughts. The desire to turn and walk back into the bedroom was a simple movement right. An easy simple movement. The story would be soundproof. No need to worry about his own movements or keeping her alive and her movements. Richard knew this woman, and they had openly fought earlier in the harbor. How could he explain her sudden disappearance? Leaving her alive would only create more questions. Taking her with him would cause a different set of questions. Killing her gave him the story he really wanted and no one would think foul play. 

But the way Steve was crumpled on the floor, the wave of magic he felt, the way she had held herself together even as she burst through the bathroom door screaming and naked. She was different, he could tell. He wanted her. 

But the story?

Sanas rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He let the shadows conceal him and her and he walked towards the broken front door. 

Sunlight filled the room in its deep yellow glow reflecting off the wooden walls like it might be a beautiful summer day with flowers and green grass and the sound of….

Neia flew from the bed and up on her feet.

Where was Richard? The flashes of his hanging body sent a tightness in her stomach. 

Where was she? What had happened? Her gaze lingered on the walls that were different, the floor that was different, the shape of the room that was different. A log cabin? 

“I see you're awake, at last.” The voice tickled memories, and no good memories. Yet there was no one in the room, only a single chair, a small table, the bed?

She spun around but the bed was empty as well. She didn’t realize that she was stepping away until she touched the wall. Where did the voice come from? Was she going crazy? 

Her eyes strayed down the wall to spy a few different doors. She didn’t need to look hard for the one door that lead outside; it had two windows with a clear view of the outside beside it. She tensed for a moment, then bolted.

Three steps into her run and the elf materialized in front of the door. Neia stopped in her sprint, staring wildly and feeling the urge of madness more than fear. She really wanted to keep charging and ram this elf in the gut, bust through the door, and keep running. 

But fear won out, the memory of his dagger settling in, and what he had done to Richard. 

“Mmmm, that’s a good look for you. Why didn’t you wear that the entire time?” The Elf grinned, chuckled and stayed exactly where he was. As she remained silent, he arched an eyebrow and motioned towards her. “Did you forget you were naked? Normally women usually will grab the blan—”

She scowled, “Why am I here?” 

The elf’s eyes widened in surprise before his amusement took its place. “Because you intrigue me.” He smiled, showing off a few canine teeth. “And as much as I would like to delve into this topic at hand, one question,” his eyes trailed downwards along her body before looking back up. “Why don’t you care that you're naked in front of a stranger?” 

Neia scoffed, straightened out, and glared at him. “Why does it matter to you? And what clothes do I have to make myself not? Let me out the front door if it annoys you.” 

The elf’s intrigue held. “I see all you needed was rest to reset your mind on the pecking order,” The elf sighed. “Or you simply aren’t afraid of elves as much as humans?” His eyebrow perked with the idea. 

She frowned at him. “If you don’t want to talk to me as I am, then where are some clothes?” 

“Finally, a good question.” He motioned towards the wall on her right. 

She didn’t look, afraid that if she did he would lunge at her, take advantage and do whatever he claimed he wasn’t trying to do right now. 

Which was what? Her mind teased.

So as the silence stretched on for a handful of breaths longer, the elf leaned back against the door, his arms crossing, and he let out a deep, easy sigh. He did look away staring towards one of the windows. 

Reluctantly Neia looked to the wall he motioned too, a quick look, and saw a door. She looked back in a second, the elf hadn’t moved, hadn’t even turned to look at her.

Silence filled the air so quiet that she could hear her heartbeat racing. He had no plans on moving it seemed.

She adjusted her weight. He didn’t respond, but she saw a twitch of his ears. She took a step back. His gaze shifted just enough to see her in easy sights. Finally she took a step away, and when he didn’t twitch a muscle, she retreated towards the door, slid through a crack, and shut it tight.  

She heard nothing, not even the faintest movement or breath.

Neia took in a deep lungful of air and switched the light on.

She was in a small bathroom. A set of clothes sat on the sink, a towel next to them, folded and neatly arranged. There was no mirror for her to look in, yet as she reached out to pick up the clothes, she noticed dried red flakes on her arm.

Her body stop moving. She could not remember getting paint on her arm. She reached out with her other arm to clear it off, but when it didn’t peel like paint her head spun. 

Blood. It was blood. Blood from the floor she had fallen on when she tried running away. She tried not thinking whose blood it was, but it didn’t stop her from seeing Richard's body. Her vision dimmed along the edges of her sight and she felt her knees wobble. She reached out to support herself on the sink, deep, quick breaths came, and her stomach rolled.

She was going to vomit, she was…

“I’d recommend a shower first before you get dressed.” His voice drew away the blackness as she looked up to the door. The sink was above her now and her legs folded on the floor. Her body was shaking and she hugged herself to try and still the movements; it seemed to make it worse. 

The elf said nothing. She said nothing. Then his footsteps walked away, and then the creak of a wooden chair sounded as he sat down.  

Neia remained on the floor quietly, listening to nothing for a while. 

When the shaking seemed to stop and her head was no longer swimming, she took in a deep breath and compelled herself up to her feet. Legs still wobbly, she found her strength and made it over to the shower and turned the knob on.

The sound of the water rushing out almost made her burst into tears. Had this been a nightmare all along? Had everything that had happened been a dream? 

If she was home, she would have given the weight of those thoughts more time but the elf was outside the door and this wasn’t her bathroom. 

Tentatively she stepped in and stifled a sob as the water struck her skin. What was going on? Why was she here? Her thoughts spun and if there hadn’t been a stranger close-by she would have sobbed until there were no more tears to spend.

Neia stayed in the shower until the hot water came out cold and she could no longer turn it up any higher. Even then, she stayed longer letting the cold seep deep into her bones, preferring this discomfort over what would happen once she stepped outside. 

Alas, she eventually turned the water off, dried herself and dressed in what the elf had provided which was a simple linen shirt and pants of brown; she looked like a poor person from the streets, she didn’t need to see that in the mirror. 

Neia walked up to the door and reached out for the knob. The cold touch of the metal handle stilled her. She listened beyond the door but could hear nothing. Her sense of smell picked up a faint aroma of some kind of food, but she didn’t feel the knot of hunger like she should have. If the elf was beyond the door, he made no sound.

She took in a deep breath, steadied herself, and opened the door.

It was darker now than it was before; lamps had been lit bringing out a cozy warmth of light to the small place. Sunlight beyond the windows was barely holding out, but that was a familiar sight, and one she knew the sun wouldn’t be winning for much longer. 

The more important thing though was the elf wasn’t around. 

Expecting to see him and  now not,  she felt unsure of what to do. Was she supposed to stay? Leave? Would he hunt her down if she did? Should she stay and wait? 

No, she should leave. Leave all of this behind. She gave another look around just in case. It wasn’t a big space but he had the bed in the far corner away from the front door; a rug and a cushioned chair in front of a fireplace that was dim and dark; a sink and several cabinets along with a stove on the other side with a table and two chairs and a small rug there. 

But no elf. She was certain he wasn’t here. 

So she straightened herself up and proceeded to walk straight to the door. 

Each step she took felt like ten and when she reached the door and set her fingers on the knob and it twisted, iit clicked and pulled open. She cracked it open and the smell of forest and pond water struck her along with a breeze that almost made her cry with happiness.

She was alive.

Neia stepped out beyond the log cabin, feeling the grass between her toes and stared straight to a sky beginning to show the first signs of twilight. 

Freedom. 

Neia looked back forward. There was only tall grass, bushes, and trees. No road, not even a dirt path. She huffed. He brought her here, so there was a way out. 

It was strange to be in a forest again, she realized as she walked towards the treeline, careful to listen for any unusual sounds. She half expected to see her other brother, Synric, to appear out of the growing shadows. Of course, she knew he wouldn’t be.  A stranger had brought her here, wherever she was, it looked like it might be Elwynn.

A stranger that had helped the man that had tried to kill her, her thoughts voiced. 

Her stride faltered.

Praise be. Kill her. Richard had tried to kill her!

Neia felt sick again, and the world danced briefly as she reached out and found the bark of a tree to support herself.

Focus, she said to herself. Focus. But her quick and uneven breaths signaled a familiar feeling for her. She closed her eyes and started counting backwards. She could practically hear Nairus' voice reaching out to her telling her what to do. Focus. 

The dizziness soon faded and she was easily breathing again. Her eyes opened and found a prick of that panic return. Whatever little sunlight that was left was gone now. There was only a thin line where her vision could make out a decent path ahead but the further she looked out, it was simply dark and grey. Neia pushed off the tree and started jogging. She jogged about ten strides, confident in her footing, before turning it into a run. She ran until her chest began heaving, and then pushed beyond that until her breath grew shaky and quick. She slowed and came to a stop, leaning up against a tree as she stole in deep breaths. A glance back behind revealed no cabin, but ahead? 

She could see only shadows. Above she could only make out the stars and a faint thin light from the moon. 

A shiver rippled through her body and she pressed forward, at a slower rate. 

“You really do have a death wish don’t you girl?” His voice sang like a night bird in the trees. Neia jumped three feet in the air and spun to her right. She could see two silver lights amongst the shadows, and then the shadow detached itself from a tree, stepping into better sight.

The elf was no longer dressed in his jacket and jeans he had been in earlier, but now a simple deep green woolen shirt that was tucked into deep blue pants. No weapons to be seen. “Of course when I leave for just a moment you decide to come rushing out of the bathroom for freedom. Not even sticking around to say good-bye huh?”

Neia frowned at him, took two steps back for good measure. She was relieved he didn’t press forward. “What do you want?”

“A conversation.”

The bluntness chased away her thoughts. The first wave of night bugs sung in her silence. A–A conversation? “My brother is looking for me and he works for the newspaper, so he’ll be able to find me.” The confidence in her voice was non existence, she was surprised she managed to say that without stuttering.

“Seems time in the shower reset your mind back to being a damsel in distress.” He stopped for a second before laughing; it wasn’t a pleasant laugh to hear, but it was easy and short, and non-threatening. “First things first kid, we need to talk about what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” was her immediate retort. Her lips shut tight though realizing she had spoken without thinking. 

The crickets chirped. 

The elf laughed once more. “I applaud your remark.” He said easily. “But we still need to have a conversation. We can do this one of two ways. You can keep running and hope that Elune blesses you enough to save you from my daggers..” A string of silence came as the weight of his words settled, and she felt her heart fall deep into her stomach. “Or,” he gestured back the way she had come. “You come willingly, we have some dinner, and you can try to sway me with your words and sell me on why you should stay alive.” She couldn’t see it, but she heard the wide grin on his face.

It made her frown, even against the fear, even against the scream in her head begging to be heard. She refused to listen, because she knew it said to run.

The silence stretched again, her eyes shifting towards the freedom of the trees as her mind rationalized that running was clearly a false lure, Elune wouldn’t bless her. She was no follower. She looked back towards him, managed to straighten herself out to look even towards the silver of his eyes. “Why did you kill him?”

A soft hum of curiosity escaped the elf. “He was a target.” His voice was casual. “Nothing more to it. Have you decided on your choice then?” 

Her gaze faltered, taking in the grass beneath their feet. She nodded, turned, and began walking back the way she had come from. 

The cabin was still as warm and welcoming as she had left it; the smell of food set her stomach to rumble. The elf walked in after her, closing the door, and to her relief did not lock it. He walked and went over to a pot that was sitting on the stove.

Soup. 

Now that her mind was settling, though panic was sitting on the edges ready to take back over when needed, she recognized the smell of vegetables and chicken. 

She hadn’t eaten all day. 

Neia shook her head. No, she needed to focus. Though she was certain Savian would look for her, there was no way he would find her out in Elwynn. Why would she even be in Elwynn? She never liked the forest, hadn’t since that time….

Her features grew dark, and she felt her mind closing. 

Neia took a deep breath. Focus. He still might kill you, remember.

“Are you going to stand there by the door all night?” Neia looked up from the wooden floors not realizing she had looked down. The elf was sitting at the table, a bowl in front of him, a bowl in front of an empty chair. When she met his gaze, he motioned to the other side of the table. 

“If you thought I was joking about dinner, I wasn’t. I’m giving you a fair trial here child.” He added with a smile as she moved to sit down. “Eat so we can have a civilized conversation.” 

She didn’t eat. She didn’t move for the spoon. She simply stared at him, taking in the sharp features of his face, the deep purple hair tied into a short ponytail, the tattoos on his neck, and the the scar she hadn’t noticed that was sitting on the edge of his jaw trailing down over one of those tattoos; Nairus had explained those types of injuries most people didn’t survive unless a healer was nearby. 

He returned her stare briefly before deciding she wasn’t interesting enough and started eating. 

She looked down at the soup, watched him take a few more bites, and each time he looked back, he looked somewhere else in the room. Never at her.  It was odd, and it reminded her swiftly of their earlier experience with the door and how he waited for her to speak or move to the bathroom. He hadn’t looked at her then either. So was he waiting? 

The bowl in front of her drew her gaze. The smell sent a ripple of hunger through her stomach. Slowly her shoulders relaxed and then she picked up the spoon.

Her mouth watered with the first taste, and though she tried to act like it wasn’t all that good, she was quick to get another spoonful. Quicker still on the third. 

The elf said nothing as she was devouring the meal, she hadn’t even noticed he had stopped eating as he was casually watching her from the side. 

“Feel better?” his voice sung. 

She stopped then, realizing then there was only three spoonfuls left. A wave of embarrassment struck as she kept her gaze down, left the spoon in the bowl, and let her hands slide into her lap. 

He shifted then, uncrossing his one leg that had been resting on his knee to face her directly and set his chin on his laced fingers. “Neia right,” he smiled.

She frowned.

He held back the grin that ticked at his lips. “Do you remember what happened in the bedroom after Richard left you with that man?” 

She held her frown, looked away. The memory tickled of that burly man's hands wrapping around her neck, then the vision came back to her, and then of their twisted views and his voice asking what she had done. 

“Looks like it.” He took in a deep breath as he leaned away from her and set an arm on the back of his chair. She looked at him. “Tell me about it.” He demanded. 

“Why does it matter?”

The elf let a grin ease on his face, but she recognized it for what it was, a warning. Before he spoke, he leaned back towards the table and rested his chin once more on his fingers. “I’ll be fair with you, I don’t normally do this. I usually just kill all loose threads even if I decide they aren’t beneficial to my story. Normally when I decide that, their bodies aren’t ever found.” His voice eased from casual conversation to a slow melodic tone and ending in a sharp deep scowl, if a voice could scowl without the lips following. Nonetheless, her body went cold on his last words. 

Her eyes darted away from him, towards the cushioned chair by the unlit fireplace. 

He didn’t speak further though, allowing the silence to fill once again. There were no crickets though to fill in that silence, just the tense pressure of unease from herself. Slowly she looked back at him, he was still watching her, and hadn't moved from his prior position. 

He wanted something, so she said, “I understand.” 

He smiled, and his entire body relaxed into a familiar stature. She hadn’t even realized he had tensed. When had he done that? When he was speaking? He spoke, “Good, so tell me what happened.” 

She nodded. “Richard said to finish it, and he pushed me on the bed and…”

“He?” The elf interrupted. 

“The guy, I don’t know his name.” The lie was so easy that she tricked herself. It was only after she spoke the words his name came back. Steve. 

The elf paused briefly before nodding. 

“He choked me. The next thing I knew, I was gasping for breath, and I heard his voice, but I don’t know what he said as I scrambled off the bed to the bathroom.” 

The elf studied her. She never broke eye contact. Slowly, he gave a nod and he leaned back again against his chair again, looking away from her.

She never felt so relieved, and as her body relaxed, she felt her legs trembling and her hands shaking. She tried covering it up, setting a hand on top of her other, but it did no good. 

“You have potential.” He said at last. “Not many have a natural talent for this kind of work under pressure, and let's put it this way,” his eyes shifted sharply towards her. Her shaking stopped, but so did all of her other movements. “I wouldn’t mind the extra help.” His smile was bright. “You need the coin don’t you?” 

She refused to answer, and this time as the silence stretched she could see the impatience in his eyes. He shifted towards her again, leaning inwards. “You don’t need to play coy,” His voice was gentle. “I saw the way you reacted to those coins flying in the air.” Then his hands lifted from the table and in their place was a gold coin and several silvers. She felt her heart beat faster with excitement, and she restrained herself from moving towards them. 

He was smiling at her still. “Your payment for today's work.” He leaned back and away leaving the coin’s in easy reach.

She frowned at him, the thoughts racing through her mind that those were her coins she won fair and square earlier, but she kept those to herself. “Also it's my  promise that each job you do, you get a gold coin from me. The more you impress, the more coins you win.” His smile brightened. “Sound like a deal?”

A deal? His words finally struck from earlier. Extra help? She felt her face pale. Help as in seeing more dead bodies and blood and…

The elf's easy features vanished into a look of worry and quick uncertainty for himself, not her. “You aren’t going to pass out on me again are you?”

She closed her eyes. The world was spinning. She swallowed dryly and as the vertigo began to slow she opened her eyes once more. The elf was still watching, waiting for something. “I-I never…” she felt faint.

“Doesn’t matter.” The elf said. “This is my proposition. I could let you go.” He paused briefly as he gave some consideration to his words, then started up again. “I won’t be coy with you. I’ll tell you what will happen. If you don’t agree, I’ll kill you now, save myself some trouble. However, if you agree and continue to remain an asset, you get to live.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Do you see what I’m saying, or are you too light headed to think straight?” 

She shook her head. “What stops me from just telling the guards even if I agree to this deal?” 

The elf smiled brightly. “You think a handful of fifty year old humans will be able to do anything? I will kill you if you disappoint me. You will die. Maybe I’ll take your brother out too just before I do it.” He chuckled softly. “Just in case you tell him without me realizing it. Safer that way. Get all the loose ends.” 

She felt her blood go cold. Savian? 

“I didn’t do anything. Why can’t we agree I just won’t say anything. That nothing happened today?” 

The elf took in a deep breath, leaning back into his chair. “Because child, Richard left a trail. He went to see that friend of yours in the inn. He made a scene at the harbor where all those people saw the fight. Witnesses can place you with him all the way up to that building.” He huffed amusingly as his eyes laid on her. “See where this is going?” 

Her voice came out distantly and toneless. “And I’m still alive, and I wasn’t there when the bodies were found.” 

He nodded. “And no one saw you leave. Smart. See, keep doing that and you earn my favor.” He laughed whole-heartly this time. 

She felt sick. How had this happen? What did she do to end up here?

He spoke again. “So are we at an understanding now?” 

She didn’t answer, and was too afraid too. It was like signing a pact with a demon. But what other choice did she have? 

Neia slowly nodded.

“I want to hear it from you. Your words.” 

She looked back at him. His smile was gone and his eyes were expecting.

She took a deep breath. “I work for you, and in return I keep my life.” 

His smile was cruel this time around and he leaned slightly in towards her as he whispered, “And the most important part, you get your coin.” He slid the coins over to her now within an inch of her fingers. She reached out and took the heavy metal and slid it into her lap.

“Perfect, now, what I’m going to recommend to you is to find the first portal to Kul’tiras, hang out there for a while as the heat dies down. I’ll handle this misunderstanding about a young black hair woman working a stall in the harbor, and when you come back, let's say, half a year from now, we'll start our partnership. Sound good?” 

“H-half a year!” She blurted out.

He nodded. “It's not very long for our lifespan is it? A simple moment.”

But what about her brother? Her credentials for her stall? Her job?

You have no choice. Her voice cooed at her internally. Agree or be killed now. 

Neia nodded.

“Perfect, and just to verify, I’ll deliver whatever letter to your brother to make sure he understands that you're taking a break from the city. I’ve got some paper and ink, so let's work out together why, realistically, you would take this vacation.” 

It wasn’t hard to figure that part out. Nairus. If she could find Nairus, even now, he probably know what to do about this. So as the elf got up and grabbed the paper and ink, she didn’t hesitate to start writing as he looked over her shoulder. 

The letter was several paragraphs explaining how she had overheard a man talking about a druid healer in Kul’tiras matching Nairus name and description, and she didn’t have time to find and talk to him about it. The man was leaving that day and he was willing to give her a free ride. Details later when she arrived at the city and would send another letter. 

This could be Nairus, she wrote with a heavy hand, she was going to go and investigate. 

[scifiseries]

New commisioned art for my upcoming 3rd book. Depicts my main character Clain falling from a skyscraper after an epic battle with a vicious android called Synric. Reality begins to blur as Clain sees another dimension within his reflection. Artist was u/ziireaux who is a pleasure to work with 🙏

[selisekinsolving]

The sun was just breaking past the rooftops of Dwarven District, casting its first rays of the day onto the cold cobblestones. No patients were scheduled for another hour and Selise was not letting the extra time go to waste. A forgotten mug of tea sat on the shelf outside of her personal lab. The doctor was already bent over her microscope and notebook, not even the chimes from the front door caused her to move. Only a few people had a key to get in this early and by now she and Cherysa had a pretty standard opening routine.

"Morning, Cherysa." She called from the back room.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, three loud knocks sounded on the front door. Selise pulled her pocket watch and frowned. "Unless it's an emergency, tell them to come back in an hour." With that, she turned back to her work.

Cherysa returned the Doc’s greeting with her own cheerful “Morning!” The red head set the book she’d borrowed from Selise’s library on her desk and began doffing her coat to hang up when the knocks sounded. Selise’s instructions had her nodding as she called back “Right” and moving to the door. She opened it a crack and peered out. “I’m sorry we open in an hour,” she stated as kindly as she could while looking to ascertain if it was in fact an emergency.

Two men stood on the stoop, both in full Stormwind Guard armor. The one that spoke had his helm tucked under his arm.

"We understand ma'am, but we have some questions that might be better asked before your customers arrive. May we come in?"

The guard behind him leaned forward and muttered something which had the speaker nodding. He looked back to Cherysa with an even gaze.

Cherysa’s smile stayed in place and she ushered the guard into the waiting room. “Oh, I...of course officers. If you will wait here I’ll get the Doc.” Chery closed the door behind the two men and with a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure they stayed in the waiting area hurried back to where she knew the doc was working. 

“Doc, there’s two guards here say they have questions better to be answered before we open.” She said it in a breathy rush as she came into the lab. “They are in the waiting room.”

Selise rose her head at the sound of footsteps, some annoyance building in the back of her mind as she imagined what supposed emergency might be coming through the door. She was already on her feet when Chery entered the room.

"They do, hm? Come on." Curiosity had replaced her annoyance by the time they stood in front of the two men.

"Doctor Graves, pardon the early visit. My name is Specialist Graham and this is Private Rell." He motioned to the man that had yet to remove his helmet.

Sel glanced briefly at Rell and nodded. "We've met. My assistant, Cherysa Amberstill." She motioned at Chery. "What is so pressing that it couldn't wait until office hours?"

Graham began to unroll a sheet of parchment and turn it towards the two women as he spoke. "This man is wanted for investigation. We have information that one or both of you have had contact with him in this office. When was the last time you saw him?" He settled his gaze on Cherysa as he finished speaking.

The document he held out was a wanted poster with a drawing of a hooded man, identified as Ronan, followed by a list of notes on his appearance: Kaldorei, amber eyes, armed and dangerous, bow and arrow, curved elvish sword, accompanied by a golden dragon hatchling, last seen in the harbor flying towards mountains.

'Wanted for murder' was printed directly under the man's sketch.

Cherysa stepped closer to look at the document shaking her head even as she looked over the document, the description in her mind could fit any number of Kaldorei she'd met in the city but the dragon hatchling she thought would be memorable. Her gaze turned up to Graham, "No sir, I think I would remember someone like that. I have not seen him."  

Graham watched Cherysa calmly as she answered and merely nodded.

You could step outside and throw a rock and hit a hooded figure matching the drawing. It took Selise reading the description for something to click. She sighed.

"Yes, he was here as a patient, but that was about...three years ago now. I haven't seen him since," she replied. "And before you ask," she interjected as she saw Graham move to reply, "No, I can't give you details about the visit."

It was the Private that spoke up this time. "Maybe you could come down to command and speak with the Unit leader." He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "They might remind you of your contract."

Selise shook her head. "My answer to them would be the same." She gave Cherysa a brief look. "We will not be releasing patient records unless ordered to do so by a Magistrate."

Graham looked between the two women. "When the situation calls for such, we will be back. In the meantime, should you see him or learn anything else, you will report it to the authorities." He inclined his head ever so slightly and saw himself and the Private out of the office.

Cherysa frowned as she moved to relock the door. Her gaze met Selise's as she turned, "Do you think they will come back for the file?"

"If they get the proper documentation, then yes." She shook her head and moved back to her desk. Where was her tea? Selise glanced towards the hallway briefly. "Don't worry about it. If they come back, just tell them they have to talk to me because you can't get into the files."

"Understood. They seemed pretty serious, I hope it doesn't come to that though." She sighed and moved to begin getting the office ready for the day. "Anything you need special for today?"

"I'm glad they're taking it seriously; someone was murdered. I find it a bit hard to believe from him, but...something happened. Rell isn't stupid, he'll help get to the bottom of it. I just hope his superiors listen to him." It took her a moment to realize there was a question in there. "Hm? No, nothing special. Another routine day, hopefully." She smiled.

Written with @cherysaamberstill

@synric-silversong @kaelenar

[alastar-wyatt]

List of Characters

As I see people from time to time post this, I always enjoy posting some of my other blogs as well. 

Alastar Wyatt

Age: 19 years old

Race: Cursed Human

Specialty: Swordsman

Synric Silversong

Age: Young Adult

Race: Half-elf

Specialty: Marksman and Runic practice

Neia Blackwood:

Age: Teenager

Race: Half-elf

Specialty: Jewelcrafter and apprentice healer

Nairus AmberLeaf

Age: Adult

Race: Night Elf

Specialty: Healing- Druid arts

Madivh Blackwood

Age: 40 - Deceased, but willing to RP AU 

Race: Human

Specialty: Intel Gatherer

Jacorek Blackwood

Age: 40- Deceased and willing to RP AU

Race: Human

Specialty: Assassination

My OOC Blog

[dhysis-screens]

Synric - Skyrim

[faelynnmistwhisper]

Faelynn let the magic take her away from the settlement before too many of the curious spectators could try and corner her for information. What she knew was left in the capable hands of the Sentinels. As the injured party, they were the ones who would ultimately decide the woman’s fate.

And if it’s too severe?

The highborne woman didn’t spare a frown for the thought. At first, Faelynn had let her concern for Talren and Synric sway her opinion on the woman’s true identity, but now she recognized her for what she was: a fraud. Kal’sin was mistaken, either effected by grief as she had been or sensing trace magic, and now he was in jeopardy of being captured as well.

Deadwind terrain was very much less preferable than the lush undergrowth of Feralas, but she didn’t plan to stay here long. Under the effects of the invisibility potion, her surrounding blurred in strange patterns unless she stayed still. So upon returning to the mouth of the cave, it took her a moment to take stock of the situation.

Of course there was no longer a large dragon guarding the entrance. The question was whether he had been captured or not. She let her mind clear as she reached out with her senses for any traces of magic. A slight prickling sensation up her arms told her that she wasn’t too far off track.

Up in the rocks she could see a faint glimmer of gold slowly edging its way towards the top of the entrance. Faelynn stepped forward and teleported up into the rocks with a quick burst of arcane magic. She stooped down to where Kal’sin had been headed.

“If they get you too, Synric’s really going to be in trouble,” she whispered. “Come now. This area is too hot.” Glowing silver eyes gave the dragon a knowing look as she offered out a pale hand to the creature.

@synric-silversong​

[kylewilmont]

🏹-synric (how could I not)

“Gods damnit!”  Kyle yelled, “Don’t any of ye know how t’ hit a target?! It’s right in front o’ yer bloody faces!”  Arrows lay all over the stretch of green between the hay bales where the archers perched and the targets themselves.  Some stuck bristling out of the fence behind the targets, and all Kyle could do was simply be grateful they had hit even that.  The old soldier continued his march up and down the line of young recruits, hands clasped behind his back. “Draw!”  He said, barking the command and timing the cadence of his calls to the number of steps he took.

“Aim!” Kyle yelled, face red with exhertion.  One of the boys jerked suddenly as the one beside him decided his space was being encrouched upon and elbowed the other for more room.  The elbowed boy let the arrow lose, so surprised was he, that he hadn’t been watching where he fired!  “Lo---”  A few were obeying the order as soon as they syllable left his lips, but as the word went unfinished, many pairs of eyes turned toward the huge man.

Kyle’s wide eyed and obviously pain-filled gaze met with that of the half elf, though the boy could stare at nothing but the arrow protruding from the man’s meaty thigh.  “Yer...” Kyle roared, “Dismissed!”, then motioned for one of the other instructors to take his place so he could pay a visit to the infirmary, spitting curses that more than a few of the recruits had never heard before and tried hard to remember.  

[risrielthron]

@synric-silversong

[synric-silversong]

Synric snorted. Then for a flicker of a second he stilled. A shrug followed after. “Only if you like,” he said turning his attention slowly back in front of him.

Monthly Jed’hin

When: Wednesday, January 24th Time: 5 (server) Where: The Vault of Lights, The Exodar

Join the Sha’tor for their monthly Jed’hin tournament. All are welcome to watch or test their strength!

(Contact Vekuum for more information or a calendar invite)

[synric-silversong]

Understanding Pride

Part 1- Limitations

Part 2- Challenges

Part 3- Faellyn’s Gift

Part 4- Understanding Pride

Two weeks passed and in that time, Synric managed to carve his teleportation rune, gave it a test run, and then was over the wall using the rest of his time getting himself lost. Walls were strangely taller, harder to see over and too climb. Passageways seemed to zig-zag and run up and down, broken in many sections requiring magic to jump or better equipment he simply did not have and could not get with the amount of coins he had. 

Beyond those problems, he still had the ogres to attend too. Not only were they more numerous, many of them called some of these buildings homes, there were ones specialized in magic and others in armor. Synric ran into several patrols that chased him without question, and no matter what techniques he had picked up beforehand, he could never quite lose them. No matter how far away he got, or managed to slip back around, they always seemed to find him. He assumed magic had to be at play. When he finally did lose them, he was normally in a different section of the city that he had not seen before. Thus, he was lost once more. There were a few days he had to sleep in the old elf city. Luckily he never grew truly lost, the trees could always be seen when he climbed up, or as he learned the best way to navigate the city was when the sun was rising or setting. 

Kal’sin eventually intervened. A magi ogre found them, and managed to rily up all the ogres around the area. Synric tried his normal means, not knowing what else to do as he navigated straight to his teleportation rune, but they seemed to know his path getting before him before he cross into the next section. Half a day of running and still there was no escape; it was at that point the little dragon threw up his own magic. The ogres never stepped into their path again that day. 

It was at that point that Synric understood why the elder hunters of the village warned about going near the ruins. He understood the tone of uncertainty in Faellyn’s silent question of what he was doing out here. Then why was he so stupid beforehand to try and make this trek to the tower when he was a whole lot younger?

Two more weeks passed, and the routine was set with aggravation and stubborn pride. He tried new tricks and with a little focus, managed to draw some ogres away from their paths so he could slip by unnoticed. 

Half-way through the fourth week, as he began to make his way back to the ruins, he found a set of ogre tracks no further than a rocks throw from his camp; they had gotten awfully close. If it hadn’t been for his protection runes camouflaging the place, his camp would have probably been destroyed. Yet, with that thought, he felt unsettled by how far they had traveled; he wasn’t that far from the village, about a half-day's walk.  

He tried again that night, and had made little advance. At least, he wasn’t getting spotted anymore. Maybe once or twice a week. Still it took a while to move through the city. 

Come the next morning, he watched a pair of ogres walk practically on top of his camp. They were grumbling and muttering in their language, and paying little attention to what was actually around them. And thanks to his runes, they couldn’t see him unless they were really looking. 

The unease settled in him again, and that night he moved his camp across the river just to make certain they wouldn’t run across him while he slept.

The next night, Synric found himself sitting on top of one of the buildings on the other side of the wall. A new habit formed when he realized beating this city with brute strength wouldn’t be enough. He watched, as he normally did, to see how the patrols were working that night to avoid the magi ogres, when his ears twitched to ogre talk. 

His eyes shifted behind as two ogres stepped over the wall. Blood caked their weapons and part of their legs and hands. They had the corpses of three elves and a worgen being carried like a sack of potatoes back to their home.

Synric felt sick at the sight. Even knowing the ogres' culture didn't help his mind from not seeing that it might have been him being carried in their arms.

The ogres passed by, leaving him feeling entirely unsettled, unnerved, and shaking. Kal’sin worried touch was enough to have him move back to his teleportation rune and back into the forest.

The walk back was filled with ogres in shadows, heavy feet snapping bushes, and the howling of a axe coming through the tree branches.

 Synric rubbed at his eyes and forehead, using the water of the river to wake him up, to break him from his thoughts. The campfire was crackling and snapping and the runes were set up and ready. 

What am I doing? He thought taking in the silverlight of the stars in the gentle river. This is pointless. If I had the skills to do this, it wouldn’t be taking this long. Synric gazed down at the bracelet that Faellyn had given him; it was warm on his hands, the heat of energy, subconscious as it was, from the walk back. What am I missing? 

A faint noise from the tree’s snapping under weight spun Synric around and reaching for the dagger at his hip poised in ready to dodge more than strike. Yet, Kal’sin was stretched out by the fire, his tail twitching in easy comfort. 

The firelight reflected off a shadowy figure further away. The purple hue of an elf followed by glowing silver eyes.

The elf stepped into better view with a hand raised and his sword easy to spot resting at his hip.

He spoke in elvish. “Good Evening.”

Synric’s short pause was hurried with a shorter return statement. “Good Evening.”

The elf gave a smirk of a smile. “You’re a hunter from one of the villages?”

Synric eyed the man, his sword, the way his dialect seemed off compared to those in the village where he was staying. “There is one nearby.”

The man nodded. “We got word earlier tonight our scouting party was ambushed by ogres, way off the road from their normal sightings.”

Synric felt his blood run cold, and this thought replayed the sights of the three bodies across the ogres shoulders. Stunned, he didn’t notice the elf had paused for him to replay. Thus the man continued, cautiously. “Your campfire is easy to spot through the trees.”

He meant no offense, Synric realized. The elf thought him a seasoned hunter and was offering protection between the oddities of his words. 

Synric glanced at the fire, before turning to the elf. The elf didn’t know it was he that was causing the ruckus with the ogres. That the ogres had killed the band of elves because they were out looking for him. 

The sudden realization set his blood colder.

I never thought…

“Yes...yes!” Synric quickly gathered himself as he threw dirt into the fire, and his morning breakfast. 

He frowned afterwards. 

The moment's silence stretched as they were plunged in darkness. Kal’sin chirped an sadden cry. Slowly the stars twinkled into light above and shapes began to take form, especially those glowing eyes.

The elf made a soft sound. “I’m not sure why you are out here, but I’d recommend making your way out of the jungle as soon as you can. Until we can figure out why the ogres are all stirred up.” He sounded frustrated in the way that old soldiers sounded. 

I didn’t think…

“I apologize, t-thank you for the warning.” Synric dipped his head. “Perhaps, if you need any help?”

The elf shook his head. “We have scouts searching right now in case there are any survivors. Five men are missing from the group of eight.” He paused. “If you find any trace of them, you can find us over by Feathermoon.”

Feathermoon. Images of the small established settlement surrounded by water on a small island just off the coast came to mind. He had read it in his journals, it was at least a several day walk. They hadn’t come out here in passing. 

Wait five are missing? “I’m sorry to hear about your loss. I will keep an eye out. Was it a hired escort for merchants?”

The man shook his head. “I wish it was just that. Unfortunately, this is the fourth attack this week. The men missing are trained men, which is the cause of worry. ” He paused, his ears twitching in the distance; it had to be a faraway sound for all Synric could hear were crickets and the gentle movement of water from the stream behind. “I must leave. Keep my warning to heart.” He said as he turned and dashed into the shadows of the forest, disappearing into the darkness within three strides.

Kal’sin poked his head over the logs and gave a quick tongue flick; he could feel the little dragon's judgement towards him saying exactly what he knew. This was his fault for rallying up the ogres. They were looking for the intruder making it into their camp each night. And now they were desperate enough to start killing anyone.  

Synric sighed rubbing his face once more. “I suppose you're right,” he felt his heart sink deep into his chest. A promise broken with himself, shattering. “I don’t have the skills. I either need to know how to use magic or…” He stilled briefly as Mey’s clever use of moving around the house came to mind. How she seemingly disappeared and reappeared, and being seen only when she wanted to be seen. Even as alert as he was, that elf had managed to slip into his camp without any sound of warning. “...or know how to sneak around the streets.”

Kal’sin tongue flicked out again. A tad lull of concern washed over the little dragon, but not one that seemed to stem from danger, more, worry of what Synric was thinking.

Mey could teach him. If anything, perhaps, she could teach him how to use that shadow magic again. 

He shivered at the thought.

Or another useful spell that doesn’t dwell in that art. 

He gathered up his things and adjusted his knapsack over his shoulder as words from a letter slipped into his thoughts: “Faellyn knows how to contact me.”

Synric jogged his way through the forest canopy, brushing by plants and rocks with ease as he let his feet guide him back to the village.

[thefracturedmosaic]

Redridge Farms

Mentions: @divergent-lines​ @kaelenar​

Jacorek checked the house over. The windows were sealed, the doors locked, and there were no cracks or holes in the walls. He gave a single nod as he stepped out of the door, paused before fulling departing, and looked over his shoulder. A small smile couldn’t be kept from his lips. Synric was glaring at him from the table, hands still bound by the cuffs, but at least he looked somewhat normal now with a new white linen shirt and blue pants, and he was all washed up giving way to the clear lingering purple bruises.

Jacorek couldn’t help but remember their conversation when they first arrived at this house. It was located away from other people; a farm abandoned due to the orc invaders.

“This? You really think…” Synric had stopped, probably realizing that his chances of escape had gone up incredibly in his favor and didn’t want to ruin such a chance. 

“Here’s how it's going to go in the minds of our enemies.” Jacorek began as he shoved Synric in. The young man gave a huff as he stumbled forward.  “They failed to get you out. So they are expecting two things from me. One, I’m going to move from the hideout and go somewhere deeper and harder to find. Maybe with friends, maybe somewhere else entirely using magic and such to cover my tracks; either way its going to be difficult to find you. Or two, I’m going to reinforce the caves so that it's all but impossible to navigate without having a mind too where all the traps are, and even then you may not be in there! But man won’t it be a risk worth taking if you were and they cleared each trap?” He mused as he sat down his bag on the table, looking at the dirty and disheveled skinny young half elf. Synric was wearing a hood of course accompanied by a long jacket so it made him appear to be more a druid or possibly a tall monk. 

Jacorek had heard what had happened from Synric. How this odd man came in, blew up the runes by being ultimately foolish, and had practically knocked himself out. Synric had tried saving the man, but the man had turned violent on him and threatened to harm him. Too which, Synric said he couldn’t remember what he had done or said afterwards at least until Jacorek had shown up. 

The description of the man matched a familiar one he had seen with Mey, but if that was true, Mey was definitely playing a dangerous game, which also had him thinking that maybe, just maybe, she was going to betray him in the end.

He had a lot to think of and was finally excited to dump the boy here in this house.

“If it was me,” Synric began referring to his line of what his enemies would do.

Jacorek hushed him with a single wave of his fingers. “My offer still stands boy. Once Mey has brought me what I want, you’re free to leave.” He digged through his bag taking out portions of food and small canisters of water. 

Synric was silent. He always was for a few minutes whenever Mey’s name was mentioned. Then Synric shifted, eyes darting around the home. “So we are becoming roommates then?” He began slowly. 

Jacorek shook his head. “You will be living here. My base of operation will still be in that cave.” He hummed for a moment. “And don’t think you won’t be unguarded.” He said again drawing a chair and sitting in it, both feet came up on the table.

Syrnic eyes drew to his feet and the young man frowned. “How so?” 

“How so?” Jacorek mulled on the word. “Same way you were guarded beforehand.”

“Runes?” Synric quirked a sharp smile. “Don’t you think that’s a little odd if anyone shows up?”

The walk had done Synric good. At first he seemed nervous, uncertain, shying away from noises and such. Something that always occurred to captives stuck in a dark basement for a few months. But eventually he had returned to normal and the desire to escape had overcome him again. Jacorek had stopped him only once, beat him to the point that he was bruised and hurting enough that the next day’s walk was slower and had a lot more breaks.

Synric hadn’t tried to escape again.

And the people they did manage to pass by, Synric’s voice was silenced by the bounty of the half elf named Ronan, description and all.

Jacorek had assumed his enemies would hear those rumors, so several times he would misdirect these people and say he was traveling to Stormwind to turn in the bounty, going to Ironforge because it was close, or turning him into the nearest guard station until further notice.

He didn’t figure it was fool proof, so he had taken a deserted road through the canyons and horde territories and hadn’t reappeared on anyone's radar for days until he showed up alone in Stormwind.

Jacorek shrugged and rose to his feet. “I’d be surprised if someone did,” he said softly, “After all there are several orc camps nearby and most people ignore this route due to ambushes.”

There was a brief silence. “And what if they decide to meddle with your runes?”

Jacorek quirked an eyebrow. “Hopefully for you, they don’t, otherwise better pray I’m nearby.” He grinned madly before laughing. 

That had been the end of the conversation followed by a quick show of the house too which came with a mattress, running water, and stocks of food. The clothing and other essentials came later the next day.

A week had passed since then, and the routine had become ingrained. Jacorek checked his runes, Synric watched with a glare, and then he would leave. He would return to the caverns, warm the fire while walking along a different route in the caverns leaving breadcrumbs here and there for anyone deciding to show up again. Then he returned to Stormwind, as he always did even before he moved Synric, to view bounties and hear any callings for a mercenary looking for blood. Two or three days later, Jacorek returned to  find that the young man was still alive, sane, and surprisingly well cleaned. One time, he had actually walked in and he could hear the boy singing in the upper rooms where the sunlight was heaviest. His voice was soft, smooth, and elegant. A voice that would catch ears in a tavern and silent voices.

Jacorek slammed the door that day, shaking the whole house.

[neiablackwood]

If Only One Died

Part 1-- Madivh  

Part 2

Part 3- Synric

Part 4- Madivh

Featured: 

@thefracturedmosaic

@savianblackwood

@synric-silversong

 “Well I did my part, and still, silver locks hasn’t returned yet?”

           Neia snorted. “Be nice,” she said with a little whack to her brother’s shoulder, “We don’t need dad having another episode.”

           Savian scoffed, rolling his eyes in the process. “He has an episode every night, the man’s never sober.”

           Neia shook her head, setting a finger to her lips as she looked over her shoulder towards the huddle group of three. Two were resting, eyes closed, against the log with their butts on the ground, the last, a skinny looking man with a trench coat wrapped around him, was nodding his head back and forth.

           “If the old man can’t hear me, they can’t,” Savian said, striking a match and lighting his cigarette.

           Neia shook her head, yet nonetheless she smiled, just a little.

           The two stayed silent and close together afterwards, keeping to the shadows of the wetland trees more than the gap among trees. Their father was difficult to see against the tree he was leaning upon, and only when he swung his silver container to take a drink, did they catch that he was awake and had not moved.

           “I hate these dark nights,” Savian retorted. His bud was smoldering close to his fingers, his eyes were turned upwards. “You think its going to rain?”

           Neia followed his gaze were the moonlight was foggy between layers of clouds. “I can find out.”

           He snorted. Pushing the bud of his cigarette into the tree, he straightened out, “I give bright eyes a minute more before I call it a night.”

           Her lips began to turn downwards. “He’s always been right.”

           “Yeah, and its half-way through the night already. If its going to flood,” he hissed, “it would have by now.” With that, Savian walked his way through the spongy grass and disappeared into the shadows of the trees on the opposing side.

           Countless minutes passed afterwards. Neia sat down with the other’s, checked on the merchant, and after a short-whispered conversation, returned to silence were the wind blew the leaves lovingly, the air smelt of ocean salt, and the bugs buzzed loudly.

           “It’s all clear up on the hill,” Synric’s voice snapped her eyes open.

           Her father came of the shadows and into out a moment of pure moonlight where his bright red hair seemed to flare and his stance was strong. “Half a mile towards the hill, we will rest there ‘til the morning. Let’s go.” As the moonlight faded, Madivh’s hair seemed to smolder and the streaks of white along his sides and in his beard, accompanied by the wrinkles around his eyes, extinguished his glamour.

           The merchant rose and picked up his bags sluggishly and silently. Neia rose the two sleeping, and they rose with little enthusiasm.

           Synric had, once again, disappeared by the time they were moving. Her father had moved ahead, just a bare line through the darkness she could see. They passed Savian, his own sore mood seeming to have grown heavy in the small bit of time that had conceded, but he managed to lift his lips as they passed. Savian fell in behind, taking the rear and the responsibility of defense.

           It wasn’t a long walk before they could feel the land begin to rise, the ground below growing muddy, and the smell of dampness rising on the breeze. Neia was half tempted to turn around and grin at her brother, but truly, how would he see her if she could barely see a red hair man before her?

           So, she peeked over her shoulder, spying nothing but darkness, trees, and shrubs, and kept ushering the group ahead.

           They slipped and slide as they climbed the hill, but soon enough they found solid and dry dirt beneath their heels and managed to make the last climb to the top.

Synric and Madivh were already standing above, already discussing, already bickering. Based on how Synric’s eyes had narrowed and his lips had grown thin and his arms crossed and closed, he had lost the argument; their father had won, but barely it seemed for his hands had made it to his hips were his dagger laid partial hidden from easy eyes.

Madivh said nothing as the merchants passed, as Neia stopped. Synric dipped his head with a gentle smile, “I’m sorry,” he said as he looked from his sister to the escorts, “We will have to wait until morning for a hot meal.”

[selisekinsolving]

Celtic Knots

Dara Knot

Based on the strong roots of the oak tree, the Dara represents strength. It is used as either a reminder of your inherent strength and divine roots or as a talisman to give you strength and a connection to your divine inner resources.

Tagged by: @risrielthron

Tagging: @synric-silversong @melthecrazymage @karthe-surick

[alastar-wyatt]

Update for the Blog

Hello everyone! I know I got a few followers on this blog, and I’d like to make a small announcement for those who may have noticed a lack of content over the last year.

First though, a bit of background for those that may come across my blog in the meantime, or perhaps found me recently. 

Alastar is a character I created in World of Warcraft, but he was an Original Character of mine and I write him in my own personal stories. However, due to life and its every changing way, I’ve moved on from World of Warcraft. Though the world is still interesting to me, I won’t be able to keep up with lore at this time and thus decided it be best to put his stories to a gentle standstill.

I still write this character, but its far and in-between now and with only those who reach out to me. 

So to the meat and potatoes of this announcement, if you did enjoy the stories, the character, or even the aesthetics, I’d like to introduce to my new, more current, character I’m playing in a different game. I would also like too shamelessly link the accounts of my other blogs, in case you may like to take a look at the other characters I’ve played in the past, and  possible would like to give them a read, and maybe one day interact with them over tumblr or discord. 

So further adieu, I’d like to introduce you to my list of characters/blogs!

First up, is, and will be, my most active blog moving forward,  Kal’sin Ura. He’s my newest creation and doesn’t have much content, but stay tuned for possible stories and aesthetic post!

Second up is a list of many different characters located on the same blog for convenience. (Disclaimer, these are all original characters of my creation. The blogs are all set in World of Warcraft, however, they came originally from my own stories. ) Madivh Blackwood, Jacorek Blackwood, Koyos Dawnblood, Nairus Amberleaf, and Dennarish Keenthread . All these guys are tied together in some shape or form and have intertwining storylines among themselves. Good luck finding them all. 

Next up are characters dear to my heart and will never be forgotten. They may get story updates from time to time, and perhaps some aesthetic post:

Synric Silversong and Neia Blackwood. There stories also intertwine with the ones above and even see them mentioned in Alastar post beforehand.

Thank you for the prior support from those that have given me likes, comments, and reblogs beforehand. Hopefully I’ll see you all on the other Blog.