The Silver Dragoons

As some pepole might have noticed, I haven't been in game for a while.  Real Life reared it's head rather suddenly and the whole family has been trying to roll with the punches for the past few months.  I've been turtling in my home as a way to cope and recently have been getting out of that shell.  While most of the art I've done recently won't ever be posted; some of it I'd like to share since it's been working on WOW ideas that have made me realize that so much time has past and I've barely been in contact with a handful of people in game.  You guys know who you are and thank you for the quiet support, you have no idea how much it helped.  I keep saying I will be back and I do mean it.

I never really gave him much thought.

Why should I? It was Ma and me making our way through the broken world. We researched in Kirin’Var, did arcane work for the grunts in Honor Hold, and studied with the High Elves in Allerian. The two redheaded Forrester girls could do anything together and there just wasn’t room for anyone else, not for very long.

For the first time in my life, I find myself wondering.

“So, let us talk about why you have not been into work in four days.”

Cerwis rolled her eyes and ran a brush through her long, silver hair, “I’d rather not. Can we not?”

The counselor laughed, it was always nice when she laughed. It was a warm, rich sound that always made the living room feel more like it was part of a home. She brushed her dark hair behind her ear and smiled, “I am afraid we have to. That is what I do, remember? We talk about things that you would rather not over tea and biscuits.”

There were always plans.

Small ones, big ones, Divine, mortal. Every day, every second, somewhere there was a plan. Usually just small ones, like where to take your lunch, when to head to market, or how much milk to put in your tea, but occasionally there were larger ones.

It was always the large ones that people lost sleep over.

Lirriel studied the pages she held in her hands. One was on Dragoon parchment. The other was plain, bleached paper. Both had a few, neatly written lines marking their surfaces.

The priestess closed her eyes, lips silently forming familiar prayers for guidance, her small form rocking slightly as she knelt in the morning light coming through the bedroom window.

It never could be easy.

((Just felt like doing this little bit of Nel reflecting more on her perspective with the events and such leading to her punishment.I do apologize if its somewhat disjointed I figured such thoughts might not be to cohesive.))

Nelenna stared at the roster for the Dragoons as if trying to decipher it. Her eyes were particularly drawn to the blank spot in the Golden Guardian squad where a Corporal would usually be listened. Scratching her head in slight puzzlement, playing through some dates, counting how long it’d been since she’d been demoted from said spot.

“I’d of expected them to have promoted somebody by now, doesn’t a squad need a corporal?” She mused softly looking over the list, at others of dragoon rank and all the recruits. She knew it was unlikely that a Recruit would be promoted that far in a single bound. While a number of Dragoons were indisposed so to speak to be promoted, there still seemed to be some that could be promoted, switched from one squad or another.

The parchment below is tacked up to every bulliten board within the Dragoon Hall:

The day had started off rather normal for Nelenna, well normal as it had been the last several weeks. With the extra duties she'd been doing to help out as well as punishment for herself. While every so often a brooding depression threatened to swamp down upon her Nel refused to mope about staying cheerful except for some private moments within her room. Today however turned out to go from normal to strange fairly quickly.
While helping the quartermaster get caught up on minor paperwork the Dragoon heard two guardsmen talking as they went by.

"You can't be serious, how'd it get here then?"

"Hitched a ride on the Kraken when it came back from Northrend." The second guard replied matter of factly.

"Hitched a ride? Thats ludicrous! Those things are huge! how'd the crew manage not to see the damned thing?"

(( About a month behind and probably not worth the wait. Fortunately, y'all didn't know you were waiting. ))

The plume of dust which momentarily issued from between the loose box flaps betrayed its contents before Syreeta could raise her hand to wave the disturbance away: more books. The last container to sort after the move, she noted, the discovery could have been worse. After all, there were still two shelves not yet overflowing. Using the dinner table leg to hold the box open, she reached inside to fish out the first item; a thin, calf-skin bound volume with the profile of a wolf's head stamped on the spine.

"Let's move out!"

The small outfit of officers moved out followed by the lower ranking soldiers that were hauling the groups gear.  In the center, Larosa sat tall on her Saber, Dori, as a small horse danced to her left and a paladin charger stood patiently to her right.  The soft squeal of excitement from her left made the Night Elf's ears twitch before she put her helm on.

"Be prepared, Sarge.  The Highlands isn't a vacation spot,"  She growled softly to softly admonish the young page.

"Of course, Major."

I stare down at the basin of cold water I just poured. I take a breath and dunk my burning face into it.

"I'm just really awkward and confused and it's the first time I've really felt like this about anyone else."

Exactly my feelings. I have no idea what comes next.

He's a Worgen that can't shift. That's all right though. I like him. I, Alynore Forrester, like a boy. That sounds weird. It also feels good.

The really crazy part is that he likes me too.

Everyone else was right. Damn them.

...I wish my mother was here.

Larosa advanced with unsteady legs, her arms lifting her short sword to attack the target dummy infront of her.  She could barely see the wood and armor plated contraption through the beads of sweat and tears in her eyes as she lunged forward, weapon sharp and gleaming in the soft gnomish electrical lighting.  What should have been a healthy war cry was a strangled croak as the Night Elf weakly followed through the swing of the short sword.  Her battle blade bounced of the armor of the target, there was barely any power behind what should have a devastating neck wound.

"Blame the rum, the past few hours in the morgue ..." Larosa thought to herself as the target blurred out entirely and she began taking quick hiccuping breathes, "Blame the fact you just spent all night closing out ... No lying through my teeth about what happened from the moment I left the Keep to answer a dead woman's summons."

(( The following thoughts were penned by Mary Jinkwicket in the early hours of the morning and subsequently left on her desk at the offices of Roseate Relic Recovery in the Hall of Explorers, Ironforge.  Any employee or visitor wishing to sneak a peek could do so, given a willingness to relocate the unclaimed pair of lacy lavender underthings resting atop the paper. ))

I've had better nights than tonight.

"Corporal Revant was late to the meeting," Travis noted on the attendance sheet from his little corner near the door. It was hard to miss the man when he walked into a room.  The young boy eagerly leaned forward and anticipated the Major's reaction to this.  The Major couldn't let it slide in front of the unit and this many guests.


"Evening Corporal. Do you have a story to tell me?"


Cassion cleared his throat quietly, "Well, Sir. There was once this little girl and she very much wished to be a Princess, you see. So each night before bed, she would ask her dear father to tell her about her favorite Princess.."


The blue haired Night Elf smirked and above the comments and chuckles of the room called out, "Tell me the rest as you knock out a few push ups."

"A note from the Chamberlain sir."

"He'd like to remind the Dragoons that a certain level of decorum should be maintained in public areas, lest we...distract the servants and guards from their duties.  Specifically, when it comes to how people dress in public. Apparently, someone was scandalized by Night Elf legs."

"I said I can't spare Brightsteel, Major.  We have reports of a massive Horde invasion that same night."  Sterling said he waved said reports in the air, " I need him incase we have to move the Royal family to the safe house"

"I'm not requesting that he follows my people to Uldum, Sterling."  Larosa held up her copy of the same report," I just need him to meet my people in the Garden and to stay alert incase my people need to be pulled out."

The paladin snorted and crossed his arms. Larosa sighed and dropped the papers to rub her temples.

"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.