Quetsul
No Dice
So I run all the way to Ratchet, went into the inn. I kinda thought that since Goblins are all technological and stuff, there might be some better... facilities in a goblin inn. But uh. Yeah. No.
Bathing consists of being given a bucket and sent out to the well behind the inn. I'm not even going to talk about the OTHER facilities.
So I stripped off all the piecemeal armor I've been given, cleaned up, washed, put on my nice shirt and pants, and then wandered back into the bar. Accidently sort of fell asleep in the back. Woke up with some orc hollering about the Zhevra being open. I figured, awesome.I will go out, I will talk to Tundrarunner, I will take him aside after the bar and explain everything because I can trust him, we will go from there.
Roll the Bones
(( Been overdue for a comprehensive blog. This covers several different roleplay sessions, and one imagined between two of my characters. Yes. Tekky is mine. ))
His steps were careful in the growing dark. All other sections of the ravine had been lit by the diligent hands of his tribemates, determined to reduce the shadow of the towering rock walls that both hemmed them in and protected them from the outside, save this one. It housed a single hut, nothing growing near it, even the thorns shying away from the impenetrable shadow that hung over it like a disease. Each sound was muted, and the only smell he could detect was the subtle flavor of fel magic, an unfamiliar and unsettling presence that he had never felt near his tribe before. When he reached the hut’s entry, he understood why.
Then we are Heroes
((For added flavor, listen to This. I think it complments it nicely))
It had come suddenly, too suddenly and they had not been prepared for devastation on such a large scale. But they had done what they could; water and food gathered within huts, supplies such as wood and metals that would be needed later piled high. The village still had much that needed to be repaired. The gate’s strength had sundered by the world’s breaking, their security resting upon loose hinges and soil. The days after had been filled with near panic for Dutaee, the old troll’s mind never given a moments rest as he worried for his Tribe. Even now, weeks later he could still feel hopelessness upon the edge of his mind. Tonight was a bit worse as members of his tribe, his family, traded news about the state of the world.
The Watchful Bard, Part 2
Bags hung under her eyes. She hadn't slept since before the invasion of the village. Her hands hurt from playing the guitar for so long, trying to help people rest a bit easier, and from making sure everyone stayed clean and had blankets. Her mind hurt from still trying to comprehend the previous day's events. Her heart felt the pang of loss that seemed to linger with everyone around her...even herself. She had finally found a place to call home again, and away it went in a stampede of gnolls.
Rebuilding would take time. Moving forward would as well. Aya knew this all too well, as it was written across all the faces around her, and perhaps even on her own. And even as she thought this, her head hit the table, and she was asleep seconds later.
Time heals all wounds, but while wounds may fade away, they always leave scars.
The Watchful Bard
What a day...Aya thought to herself as she sat in her hammock in the Gadgetzan tavern, watching over the wounded and sleeping. Her fingers played over the strings of the guitar sitting in her lap, soft tunes filling the air, as if to help banish the horrible events of the evening. There wasn't much that could be done for the village, which Aya had just started to call home. They had landed in Tanaris after some kind of stone they had been working on teleported them there. Sadly, she couldn't remember for the life of her what they were called.
Everything happened rather fast. Tamati was injured. Imtul was dead. Honestly, Aya didn't have a clue what to say about any of it. It was her first time meeting some of these people. The only thing she could offer was a song of mourning before they were off to find shelter from the cold of the desert night.
Fragments
Zaafarani:
The world ended and she endured, sitting still and quiet by the fire as the earth shook and rumbled and screamed. The night was lit with fire from Mojache and the night elf camp of Thalaanar, and the woods were filled with the noise of birds and beasts. Then a roar came from the east...
Quetsul:
She woke to voices and pounding feet, and the scream of a raptor--the Fool. Orcs, goblins, and humans alike streamed out of the inn, while her mount fought his way through the crowd to her side, ducking his head to tug at her blankets. She sensed what he did, and with him sought higher ground.
Reunited With the Lost
The spirit had been a tall, thick-bodied troll with powerful-looking arms. Kozha glanced around briefly; he’d received no vision but he could feel this was the place. The small collection of bones that had washed up on the log looked small and fragile. The forest around them seemed dim, the sun shining weakly on the small, empty beach. Tirisfal, Quet had called this place. Ko’ thought the name sounded unnaturally cheery.
“It’s him,” Quetsul said, the certainty in her voice helping to shore up Kozha’s own doubts. He nodded in reply, looking around the sand near the log for more bones. Quetsul stood up, moving back to where her raptors and his kodo stood patiently waiting. “Come on, I … I’ve got a blanket with the raptors.”
A Talk With Dad
((This precedes Quetsul's post Finding Resolve))
“Quet? You here?” Kozha asked, his voice echoing strangely in the shifting, grayish-blue haze that surrounded them.
“What did I drink?” she replied, looking around at the landscape, alien yet recognizable.
“It’s something that helped us to sleep so the ritual could bring us closer to the world of spirits,” he said; the apprehension he’d normally feel at telling a half-truth somehow not present.
Quetsul’s gaze turned back to the tent, seeing their still forms lying inside. “Are we dead?” she demanded, turning a furious glare on Kozha. “This is all your fault!”
“No, sis, we can go back any time we—“he stumbled, the words stopping as a tall, thick-bodied figure walked toward them.
“I’m going back, I don’t want to be dead,” she said, turning to move back into the tent.
A Talk With Dad
((This precedes Quetsul's post Finding Resolve))
“Quet? You here?” Kozha asked, his voice echoing strangely in the shifting, grayish-blue haze that surrounded them.
“What did I drink?” she replied, looking around at the landscape, alien yet recognizable.
“It’s something that helped us to sleep so the ritual could bring us closer to the world of spirits,” he said; the apprehension he’d normally feel at telling a half-truth somehow not present.
Quetsul’s gaze turned back to the tent, seeing their still forms lying inside. “Are we dead?” she demanded, turning a furious glare on Kozha. “This is all your fault!”
“No, sis, we can go back any time we—“he stumbled, the words stopping as a tall, thick-bodied figure walked toward them.
“I’m going back, I don’t want to be dead,” she said, turning to move back into the tent.
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Self-Loathing
There wasn’t much time left. It was getting light out. Etienne moved as quickly as he could, taking great care to avoid making noise. His many years of training served him well, but not well enough. Something rustled behind him just as finished pulling on his boots. He froze, closed his eyes, and silently cursed. A pair of arms slid around him from behind, locking him in an embrace. He sighed as he opened his eyes. The girl’s fair skin looked ghostly in the predawn light. It was six steps from the bed to the door. He was so damn close. The girl pulled herself closer, pressing her bare breasts against his back, and lightly planted a kiss on his cheek. The cloying scent of her perfume was far less pleasing the morning after. “You didn’t think you could get away that easily, did you?”
Indentured Servitude
Sighs of wind flowing against the tent was the first thing she was aware of. From then on it was a catastrophic domino effect of realizing her surroundings.
Hakka felt no warmth or firmness about her: the armor had been taken, her shell and protector. The stiff leather she was now clad in was not hers – they had even taken the clothes, seeing her bare. No bags were at her side. Her letters, stuffed animals, and even the fireblooms gifted from Zyjiin had been stripped from her. She was left with nothing and likewise became nothing.
Grand Theft Ram
So I probably would've never gotten into this whole mess if my sister hadn't stole my kodo. Dammit, why's she so good with animals, anyway? Well, anyway, so I'm stuck at Brewfest, don't particularly wanna trudge how many miles through Durotar's dust-choked ravines. So, well, I drank. After a while, it was all good! The goblins said their rams were legally obtained, so I borrowed one to try to ride it back to the camp. It seemed to know where to go, so I just hung on and enjoyed the ride.
Kozha's Best Day Ever! (Part 2)
The bright light of day was beginning to dim, a duller yellow as they returned to the village. The troll on watch was unfamiliar to Kozha, but fortunately he recognized Ajamu and the black raptor, and opened the gate for them. Kozha set the carcasses down as he opened the pen, stepping aside as Ajamu stormed past, snarling, the black one following behind. Leaving one wolf at the entrance, he picked up the other one, walking inside. He could feel the raptors’ hungry eyes on him, and Quet’s words from earlier in the morning became a mantra to him. No reason to be afraid of them.
Quet's instructions (intermission between part 1 and 2)
((
Here are the instructions that Quetsul left behind for Kozha to take care of the raptors while she was away, drawn by Quetsul herself with proper permission, of course 
))
Little Quet and Ko
(( Just a quick little sketchy thing, Quet and Ko at ages 10 and 5 or so. Image under cut. ))
Kozha's Best Day Ever! (part 1)
The morning light streaming down onto Quet’s ledge was usually the first thing that woke Kozha. This day, however, his sister’s face was the first thing he saw.
“Ko!” she half-whispered, shaking him. “Wake up, brat, need you to help me out today.”
“Hmm, what, Quet, it’s early, can’t it wait till sunrise?” he asked, blinking heavily, propping himself up on his sleeping mat.
“No, I’m leaving soon, Ko, need you to take care of the raptors today,” she said. “Left instructions over there.” She pointed at the wall. Kozha leaned over, sleep still in his eyes, a few blurry, indistinct shapes on the wall.
“Sure, Quet, whatever, I’ll get right on that when the sun comes up,” Kozha said, voice low, careful not to wake Du’san.
New Blood
I'll show 'em useless! Tashorr fumed as he stalked through the undergrowth, moving quietly despite the fury that gripped him. He breathed in a deep breath of warm jungle air, trying to calm himself to keep focused on moving silently. The sea witch was sending her murlocs against the Darkspear, and they'd refused his help! He was thirteen years old, nearly a Darkspear man! His scowl darkened further as he made his way through the jungle. The murlocs had stopped coming for a few hours now, but everybody knew the sea witch was just calling up more. The bright green plants only waved slightly as he stalked by, his fur blending in with the foliage. Tashorr's fury softened as he grinned. I'll show 'em useless!
