duty

The Ranger-General showed up to the city's gates eventually.

It simply wasn't in the expected manner.

The stench was over-powering, as the first monstrosities lumbered into sight. Fleshy mockeries of the living shambled, shoulder-to-shoulder...the foremost of the gruesome army being freshly slain elves, along with a handful of...spirits.

One of whom was quickly introduced by the white-haired Arthas as the “former” Ranger-General. 

It seemed an age since she had last set foot in her former home.

At that, it had been quite some time...

The last time she'd seen these glittering walls, she'd been suffering from the curse of mortality.

Tap-tap-tap.
Tap-tap-tap.
Tap-tap-tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Rae sat at her desk, rapping her fingers absently against the hard surface while staring off into space. A shrill shriek jolted her out of thought, the frigid winds of Icecrown trying and failing once more to penetrate the thick stone barrier between the small blonde and the outside. Looking through her window doesn't help the somber mood; the white snow seems a mockery of purity covering the barren, defiled grounds in the distance. She sighed, shaking her head at her own jumpiness, and returned her attention to a letter propped up in center stage.

Tylel entered his small bachelor apartment in a hurry.

“Where is it... where is it?” he asked out loud to no one, tapping his chin. The bed was undone, a few dishes were left next to the sink in the small kitchen. There was a pile of heterogeneous objects in another corner, brought back from his expeditions in to the Black Woods. Aside from that, the room was rather clean. The sound from the street would come in, day or night, but it gave his now lonely life a sense of action.

He had just came back from meeting from meeting Lady Whitedawn, or Lilliana as she preferred to be called at first. She was taller than what he had expected. And much, much younger. Perhaps his own age. There is, in young people, a very fine age, between being a complete teenager, and being a fully assumed adult, where carelessness is confronted, each day, by a view of the future that requires planning and dedication.

It did not take me long to piece everything together. 

The Lord, disappeared and unreachable through his servants... Velion off his leash, hunting with Theryl. The locked chapel door.

The whispers were insidious. Even She knew. I could not stand aside, and be derelict in my duty once again. I would not. 

For hours I lingered outside the door the chapel, listening, the dark coffee I had brought for him slowly growing cold as I heard the stirrings therein. No amount of knocking would he hear. No response. Only his own ramblings, which in this dreadful state did fill me with pity. Pity that I would never speak of. My hands traced alien patterns on the door, caressing the wood, my brows knitted together as I tried to think of some sort of plan. I am no connoisseur of pain. He had hit the harsher, second stage of withdrawal. He needed to inflict pain, and slowly his mind would twist further with madness, possibly hinting at permanent damage.

((Remember this writing challenge? I fiddled with it a few times in drafts and notes, but was never satisfied. Until I was doing new dailies and seeing how my passive spell abilities worked toward completion credit.))

The druid screamed in rage, bursting into a flaming cat to rake at Lirriel's shining bubble.

The dense heat of the Firelands made the priestess cough as she summoned a pillar of Holy Light down onto the fiery feline. Around her, the fallen Defenders she'd struggled to reach gasped as healing energies reflected off the spell and into their injured bodies.

My mind wandered back to the week which had just passed:  a vivid image of members of various platoons from the 6^th and 8^th Farstrider Companies gathered on a rise in the Ghostlands, my shrewd gaze flicking over them from the shadows as my Sergeant-Major made the formation inspection, a grim grin of pride curving my face. With confirmation of the troll threat, the Farstriders were assigned to the Ghostlands in slowly increasing numbers and confidence, and I had been called to fulfill my duty as the rank of Ranger-Lord entailed, commander of the 2^nd Farstrider Battalion.  

I don't know who I am, but everyone else feels they do.

Naïve.

 A mewling kitten...cute and dainty, with sharp little claws.

A dog – one of those northern, snowbound breeds that are half-wolf.

A horse. Devoted, beautiful, strong and useful.

A bear cub, not fully grown – just learning the taste of blood.

Mine.

~

 "Is there anyone else I can trust?"  I can hear the echo of Jericho's words from that night, still. So much had happened, and so fast.

"Major,"  Travis rubbed his eye with his free hand as he held out a note to the Night Elf before putting it down on the edge of the long desk of the war room, "Lieutenant Sterling gave me this note for you."

The blue haired elf ignored the note and continued signing and filling out the TDY forms in front of her, "Is it important?"

"He said it was …" The young boy's voice held a note of hesitation and a bit of exhaustion.

"Then it can wait until our meeting," the scratching of the pen on the paper filled the silence in the room.

"Ma'am, he said that he wouldn't be able to spare ..." the young boy tried to clarify.

"We can yell at each other at our normally scheduled time, Travis," Larosa put down the pen and pushed aside the last copy of the order forms to her right and into the basket marked current missions.

She would do anything for her people.

Her people that had turned back to demons, once more.

They were still her people.

Ah Vyndals...my younger brother..how you did not see the torment of my former enslavement? How did you not see? was your rage clouding your vision so much you you blinded by your your own hatred? Long I have been bound by the nightmare of the Lich King..Long have I existed without..cold...unemotional...bound by undeath. As I think on this...I ponder..what exactly has become of me? Bound by undeath..touched by a life binder...bound by mental connection..I sence her emotions..her thoughts...As I spoke with you...gave you ease...a burning feeling of doubt enters my mind..What exactly am I now?

The dating game...

Why had she even come here in the first place?

Because there was nothing better to do tonight. With only the occasional gull's cry to pierce her thoughts, the constant lapping of water against the hull was almost maddening.

She thought too much when it was quiet.

At least Tess was going to get some rest tonight watching her after putting down the report after reading it for the third time.   She slept soundly on the bed with her arms wrapped around one of the large pillows like it was a giant stuffed animal.

Sadly sleep was escaping me tonight even after a few bottles of wine.  It wasn’t enough to overcome the aches from bruises from the fighting earlier in the day.

Nor was it helping me relax from the jumble of emotions I had been dealing with over the last couple of days

Concern

It is time, she said, as they sat on the roof overlooking Dragonmaw Port. You know it is, Red.

He shifted uncomfortably and bobbed his head, golden eyes closing to slits in the dim blue light before dawn. He did know, had known for a while, and he told her so quietly as he shook out his wings.

She frowned, leaning against his shoulder, and looked away. There was the ship, red sail black against the last remaining stars, ready to sail at first light.

It's only for a little while, he told her, nudging her with the side of his head, careful not to set her off-balance. And you can come back, if you want.

She laughed, groaning a little, and reached up to scratch behind his jaw. He dipped his head to let her reach.

A little while for your people is a lifetime for mine.

Cassion's recent memory had filled with the trying times his people were struggling through. His people. The whole of the surviving Gilnean population had been beyond the Wall for over a month now, but the taste of failure is not easily swallowed. It lingers thick with bile and acrid smoke. Failure to protect his people when they needed it the most. For years he had been a soldier for the national army of Gilneas, watching over them as they lived behind the security of Greymane's Wall. He ate with them, drank with them, celebrated and mourned with them. 

"This is delicious." I smile and set my plate aside to lean against Tiradell, wrapping an arm around his waist. On the other side of the room, Red sulks against the wall, and Kagg is engrossed in examining a broken construct with his piglet. "I admit I am surprised you found the time."

He laughs, pulling me close, his voice--deep for an elf, though high for an orc--tickling with his breath against my ear. "I made time, Tana. You and Kagg are always worth it."

I smile wider, turning to nuzzle his cheek, but pause as I see something dark behind his eyes. I frown. He has not been home much these past few days... "Have the dreams returned?"

"What? No, no." He seems startled. I pull away, moving to face him and sitting down again, peering into his face. He shakes his head, dark reddish hair falling in front of his eyes before he lifts a hand to brush it back. "I'm fine, Tana."

I place my hand on his, stroking his fingers gently. "You are troubled."

Larosa sighed at the pile of personal files, letters, orders, and signs she was working on in the office.  The lantern was as low as it could be, mostly for the occasional page that would stop in to bring the Kaldorei tea or coffee as she ignored sleep until the Commander woke up from his rest.  The quill in her hand was shaking slightly as it hovered over the parchment, waiting for her fingers to move it to form words no parent or lover would want to receive.

I can’t seem to put the bag down anywhere.  Every surface I set it on, it ends up rolling off.  It’s just heavy canvas, reinforced with leather and some sturdy metal buckles, perfect for keeping chunks of ore.  But with every shift of the earth, it wobbles and rolls and eventually slides with a heavy, clanging thunk to the floor of my cell, and startles me every time.

I have been told that the settling of the earth around the Exodar is not the cause for these larger quakes; indeed, I have experienced them on the mainland, along the Darkshore and even among the branches the elves’ Great Tree.  The engineers here are puzzled, but must focus their resources on strengthening the Exodar’s supports.  The shaman have beseeched the elements for answers, but have received no certain answer.  They speak of confusion and unrest.

I don’t know if that’s usual for this world.  For me upon it, it certainly seems to be.

Larosa frowned as she heard the sirens.  She had just finished giving Laelan her Fitness test when the alarm went off for Horde in the city.

"Any Dragoons in the city, we have sightings of the Horde.  I'm evacuating the Prince now."

The Keep was in a state of ordered Chaos, guards were moving to their battle posts and Larosa caught the eye of the three Dragoons on duty for this very maneuver.  She waved at them and headed towards the small alcove that led to the escape door hidden behind a bookcase.  She opened the door and watched as the guards accompanied the Prince, one of his tutor, and his steward into the secret passage ways of the Keep.

She saluted the last Dragoon as he walked through the doorway and both of them watched the door close shut, the click of the bookcase as it settled into place barely audible on Larosa's end as the sound of clanking armor and shouting became louder.  She reached for the specific book that would lock the door in place and pulled it.  She released it and watched as it slowly slide back into place, locking the door and hiding the true nature of the bookcase from those that didn't know what it meant.

With a nod of her head she turned on her heel and ran for the Hall, sprinting as fast as she could.  She needed her armor if she was going to join in the fight.

Etiquette,
Commitment,
Morals,
Standards.
I have these,
Most of the time.

(( I'm really enjoying this as a chance to show little snippets about the character that don't necessarily show up in-game or aren't enough to make a full story out of. Here are my first ten for Quetsul--I'll post more later, but I don't want to do too many at once!))

((I figured I'd give this a try, only three to start with, but I'm interested in writing something for the entire list.))

5: Coffee

She still remembers her first taste of the dark liquid. Bitter and energizing. Rich and decadent, mixed with chocolate. A smooth treat that would haunt her memories as she studied the rituals and nuances of demonology and fel in the murky depths of a Stormwind pub; a front for darkness.

Dark

Aelberyn turned her face up to the sun, a genuine, gentle smile playing over her lips.  Ah, Light, what a blessing, what healing warmth she felt under the brightness of day.  She opened her eyes, still smiling as her eyes idly glanced towards the shadows the sunlight cast under the branches of the trees – she was almost certain she saw a reflection of green eyes there.  Her gentle smile quirked; a mischievous smirk teasing the corners.  She turned then and slowly moved towards the cover of the trees, where whispers waited to speak to her of secret things that the Light at times failed to reveal.  It would not be the first time she stepped out of the sunlight to play with the darkness, she realized, and she began to think it would not be the last.  Ah, she thought to herself then.  I do so love the Light.  But the Shadows seduce me so.

Despair

The wind toyed with the tall points of the pines along the road through Hillsbrad.  Echo watched them sway, joined now and again by deciduous trees gaining their brilliant fall colors.  It was a clear day and a joy for riding, though she was growing a bit saddle-sore since starting out from Arathi early that morning.  Her back was groaning from the cot in the tent as well, and she couldn’t wait for the luxury of a real bed again.

But she didn’t turn up the road to Alterac, to wind through the hills to Wyntersmere.

She slowed and twisted the reins in her hands.  She looked up that road and thought about it, thought about the bedroom in the big house and a good meal and Credence waiting to embrace her.  Then something tightened her shoulders, something straightened her spine, and Echo turned her eyes aside and continued down the road through Hillsbrad.

He paced on his usual walk down the bustling street of the Trade district. He was returning to where he'd tied his Charger up for the time being, having sold some things at the local auction, his purse felt a bit heavier to carry. A smile upon his face at the success of such. "Who knew those blasted Orbs would sell..." He chuckled softly, pausing as he came upon a small news stand. His face sudddenly melted every bit of relaxation and casual attitude it had upon it. He stared at the headlines, as it outlined the massacre in Arathi. He grabbed up the paper, tossing the coins at the man working the stand. His form moving, bumping carelessly into people as he made his way to the horse. He tossed the paper aside, and undid the horse, slinging himself atop he, he tugged at the reigns. "....And so it begins.." And with a swift jolt to the beasts sides, the hooves galloped off towards the Gryphon master.

She winced as she felt her knee scrape the ground, her eyes slightly blinded by the dawn's first rays,  as the snow left on her boots from Kharnos, made her boots slick on the polished stone streets of Dalaran.  She had to return and be ready for a scouting mission for the gnomes by Midnight, making the portal the fastest way to get her shopping done.  She was after a few special components from the Alchemy shop and after a brief time of small talk and haggling, she walked outside.  Maybe it was fate that she heard a group of adventurers discussing how they were short a person.

"We need only one more person, someone who can hit hard and scout around."

"Someone who isn't afraid of the unknown."