Mage

Good intentions.

They never quite last long enough as Biar found out, one evening after her arrival in the city when she had the brilliant idea of going for a walk to distract her from her final studies with the city's mages and hopefully find a place where there was plenty of booze and people.

Instead her evening had been one of roses, shadows, bards and babysitters.

"The one thing I want to leave my children is an honorable name."     ~Theodore Roosevelt

The autumn sun was setting slowly over the lazily rippling sea as Thuaynel Dawnstrider’s personal yacht drifted up to the Sunsail Anchorage.  Warden stood beside him, fur bristled and beady eyes attentive to the surroundings.  He looked like Thuaynel felt but would not show; on edge and fearful.  But he must be strong, lest those who had been brave and loyal enough to accompany him to the docks in defiance of Viridel and their own patron's ex-wife.

  Tyria....I trust you...

((Click Here for part 1, Here for part 2, and Here for part 3))

Eredar

Affiliation: Burning Legion

Function: Overlords, Strategists

The cunning, powerful eredar warlocks were once our noble kinsmen. Yet they fell to the lure of Sargeras' evil - and now they have become our most stalwart enemies. One must remain vigilant against fel influence, lest they join our fallen brethren.

===

Pain. Hatred. Death. Chaos.

((Click Here for part 1and click Here for part 2 ))

"Big brother?"

"Yes, Telly?"

"..."

"What is it, Sis?"

"What... what happened to mom and dad?"

A long, drawn out sigh. "Mother... died giving birth to you, sis."

"Oh. A-and dad?"

"That story... I'll tell when you're older."

===

Traveling through a nether-portal always made her dizzy. Being thrown through one didn't help matters any.

((For part 1, click Here ))

If anyone... ANYONE ever hurts my daughter, they need to be prepared to deal with me.

===

Even her proto-drake was having trouble breathing.

But, Mooo-oom! How am I ever going to get better as a mage if I don't get to go anywhere but the training yard? They told me not to shatter any more dummies. I guess people with feet don't like walking on frozen splinters.

Little one, you're only ninety-eight. There are creatures... predators out there. And I don't want anything to happen to you.

===

Arcane energies flowed through her fingers. Her target had been chosen, the spell incantation was almost complete. A flash of blue-purple light reflected off the trees as the spell completed. 

"Baaaa-aaa!"

Darkness was encroaching in his mind.  Wystan could feel it.  He wasn't the same man he had used to be.  His vision had become stained red with bloodlust and fury.  He couldn't control his fits of anger or rage any longer.  Clawed hands clenched tightly into fists more often than not.  Snarling was his preferred response.  He was going feral and couldn't stop himself from riding downward in this spiral of lost humanity.  All the names he had been called were becomming true.  Beast.  Monster.  Abomination.  He cursed these words loudly. 

“Excuse me, sir? Is there anything else I can get you?”

From under the deep cowl he wore, Micah could see the hips of the café waiter. The fellow had his pink hands clasped before him. The tone of his voice was pleasant, but carried a hidden message: I want to go home.

“No, no… thank you.” Micah resisted the urge to look up and make eye contact. The tilt of his head would reveal his features, and he never got used to the small looks of disgust he garnered from the living.

“Have a good night, then; thanks for coming by!”

"Blaze!" The voice of Moriurya was choked as a storm elemental moved toward her, whipping her words around in the wind. It was only luck that the mage throwing fireballs at the water elemental had heard Moriurya in-time to break the spell that was suffocating her. She coughed as the elemental dropped her to the ground and her feline companion bore down upon her. "Dimetri! We need to fall back! There are still civilians here!"

Students passed from class to the café to their dormitories in whirling groups; very few stayed put for long. Micah, who had found himself a seat at a little bistro in Dalaran’s university district, felt as if he had been sculpted from heavy clay in contrast to the firefly-lightness of the students that flickered and wheeled about him.

Mid-way across the commons, a tall young man broke into a run to laughingly meet with his strawberry-blonde girlfriend. The other bustling students paid no heed as they kissed; didn’t notice the youthful strength in his bare forearms as they snugged at the small or her back; didn’t see the grins that appeared in the breathless spaces between kisses on their lips; were blind to the way her leg, bent whimsically at the knee, made her skirt drape artfully against her shapely calf. Micah spared a small, secret smile before he guiltily looked down at his espresso. He felt he had glimpsed something private and special, despite their public location.

((Response post to Xaviorr's original "Booze" - Set 6-7 months in the future.))

Eyes swept across the room, various parchments were strewn across the floor in barely organized piles. Conjuration, Basic Alchemical Theories... all of which she had gone over for hours- trying to retain the information. The pile on her lap, had been her main concern though. The elven fingertips ran lightly over the ink, frowning slightly. Why had he stopped? His words, the letters he had written- all seemed to haunt her room. He spoke of waiting, wishing for her return...

((This is the last chapter of Micah Terwin's backstory. Thank you to all who have read and commented and enjoyed it; it feels good to have it done. The first section can be found here.))

“Micah… Micah…!” Captain Hurston floated further and further away, the steel-grey waves tilting and sliding the lifeboat he was in like a ball in a juggler’s hands. Micah was in a different boat, working the oars as hard as he could to catch up with Hurston’s drifting vessel. His chest and back burned with the effort, his lungs aching, his shoulders screaming. “Micah…!” The young mage looked up and gave a choked cry of dismay when he saw Hurston even further away. It was as if the ocean was growing between the two of them, working against Micah’s every effort.

“Captain!” He couldn’t leave, not now! He didn’t know what to do! There was no land in sight, and nothing but a steel-grey sky of storm clouds that matched the angry ocean that played with them both like a child’s toys.

Micah’s eyes fluttered open, his bleary gaze meeting the long slats of wood that made the ship’s deck. He lay there for a moment, looking at the lines of each slat stretch out into the distance, melding to become one at the furthest point of his vision.

The soft breathing and gentle smells of wood smoke weren’t enough to wake up the elf on the bed, but his eyes snapped open.  He sat up, shivering; his body relaxing as he looked at the female orc on the bed next to him.  He carefully climbed off the large bed, slipping on his light shirt and pants, tiptoeing over to a small table.  The furniture in the Orgrimmar apartment wasn’t very finely crafted, but it was sturdy.  He reached down to the bags that he usually kept hung from his motorcycle, softly undoing the buckles then pulling out a few sheets of paper, a small inkwell and a slim metal case.  The darkness in the apartment was deep, until a small flame ignited above a candlestick on the table.

“AHGH!” Despite the terrible numbing cold, the pain Micah felt as the broken timbers pinched his wrist was all too vivid. Edgar and Owens let up a little on the pressure – and Micah immediately screamed again, his voice fighting against the frigid water that was pouring in from the breach in The Ingénue’s hull, buffeting his head and face and soaking him through, “NO! HOLD IT! HOLD FAST!”

The best part was not having to peel the potatoes. He still did, however; where before helping Ferrows in the galley was a unique form of torture, Micah now appreciated the simple act of doing some physical labor in between his continued studies and the minor exertions of the arcane that kept The Ingénue running ship-shape.  Not having to peel potatoes, though? That was nice.

He plunked down the little peeler-knife on the rough cook-table, and saluted Ferrows with a grin as he slipped for the door. “Hey!” the fat cook barked, his voice wheezy and phlegmatic from too much smoke and shouting, “What are ya, daft? Yer not done, yet!”

“Quit pulling at your collar. You look like you’ve got the fits.” Micah reluctantly dropped his hand from the snug collar and clasped it in his other hand in his lap, his blue eyes fixing Alwin Ryberg with a weary gaze. It was no match for the withering look Ryberg returned over his miniscule pince-nez. Really, Micah didn’t have a leg to stand on – the robes the vested Magi were made to wear to the graduation ceremonies of the Kirin Tor were by far more uncomfortably layered than the robes of the graduates. Ryberg’s collar was high and arched enough to brush his ears.

Akiri Cloudsong's Character Sheet (Art under cut)

 Class Schedule for Lannist, Marie van:

 The girl’s head hits the stone floor with a crack.

--The paper of the book seem fragile, the edges a little crisp to the touch. Each word looks more like a scorch mark rather than ink, though there are a few drops of the smooth black liquid at the top of the page.--

Dear Journal,

Of all the times for something strange to happen to me, I wish this one could have waited until after the festival of flame. After every odd iccident, after all the mishaps, this ... curse should stop invading me! I can't even write properly!

Hillsbrad...

This is where it all started, and ended really.  My birth, the death of my entire family, one right after the other.  And eventually both my damnation and salvation.  Right here in Northern Hillsbrad.

My father was Dedrec Barren, a farmhand.  We didn't have alot of money, but we did own some property at least.  A little house on the hillside, with a lovely view of Dalaran.  My mother was an amazing cook, and me and my brother would often go into market to get her groceries.  Those are some of my fondess memories, sneaking around the back allys of Dalaran as a boy.  That and hiking in the Alterac Mountains with my dad. 

The tome on the shelf is bound in dark Shadowhide leather, intricate Truesilver lettering on the side indicating its provenance.

The Journal of Kagami Entoten.

  You belong to uss you know.

    The hiss was soft, but the firm tone couldn’t be ignore as Zeizan peeled the last of the meat from the bone, snapping it in half as she turned her good eye to the brilliant red serpent curled at her feet.

   “Itsa not like dat Ghede, ‘e beh a good troll, strong ana willlin teh fight fer dah good a ‘ur race.”  She watched as the serpent rose its head, regarding her with golden eyes laced with intelligence, he rose the colored crest and tilted his head at her.

"Heidel Duskember. I've brought you here, where the sun is shining, to ask you a question."

For a moment stretching beyond time, he met her eyes. The most beautiful woman in the world, and somehow his lover. The fire lit in his heart by her eyes. The burning and smouldering of the passion they had shared. In that moment, he simply reveled in their connection, in what they had shared.

"Do you want to learn what I have to teach? Would you walk the path that I walk?"

He could only say yes. Learn her art. Take her name. Later, he would write:

---

The Journal of Heidel Duskember Sunrunner: