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darbiebot · 1 month
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Blow
DWC Feb 2024 Day 3: Bargain/Myth
As the conversation got less animated and Terry became more antsy to be on his way, Rumpole brought out one final set of papers. The lazy farmboy in him groaned, but outwardly, all Terry said was, "Seriously, I don't know any other plots. Th' closer y' get t' th' cities, th' less I even visited, let alone--"
"No, no, we're quite done with that, don't worry! I just had one other thing to bring to your attention before you got on your way. The Queen is refreshingly forward-thinking, as you've no doubt noticed by now, and as our beloved country is a touch low on…well, almost every resource…"
"Rumpole. I'm very tired, and I've already missed my deadline. Please."
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"Oh, all right, but you're really spoiling the fun." With a small huff, the lawyer handed Terry another of those fancy papers bearing the royal seal, and he cracked it open to read. This one was a full-length scroll that hung down somewhere near his ankles, and it was absolutely covered in writing. Disgustingly dense fine print, on first glance, but once he found a few strange images, resembling nothing so much as a series of blank templates, he went back to the beginning to actually absorb what he was reading.
It wasn't that Terry couldn't follow legalese; he was in many respects a brilliant man, even if he'd never admit it or acknowledge it. He just really, really hated double-talk and wordplay this dry. It was at least fun to do that in poems and stuff. Doing it when you were talking about border disputes or who owned a cow was just infuriating. But as he read, he started to recognize certain phrases and terms from Rumpole's speech, which he'd also only partially listened to earlier in this meeting.
Much of it was what they'd already discussed about the dearth of citizenry remaining to lay claim to the various lands that lay barren and abandoned throughout the kingdom. What followed that was the rules for staking such claims, which were surprisingly thorough for all that they boiled down to 'If you're alive and have satisfactory proof of your identity, here you go.' There was follow-up regarding the payment of taxes, but that thankfully didn't appear to be retroactive. Their new queen had figured out right away that that would've been a civil war right out the gate, at least. In fact, it looked like there was a small stipend involved for the first year or so to help reestablish homesteads properly. Tess didn't seem to want people to grab the land and wander off. That, Terry approved of.
Once he got out of the homesteading stuff, things began to take a turn toward the matter of population, castes, and territories. The collapse of several houses due to the Northgate Rebellion and the fallout from the Shattering had been well-known in general, but this document appeared to be making it official. Even if it hadn't been from those events directly, it'd been over a decade since then; lots of the blue-bloods had scattered, died of old age, or just started over elsewhere. Those houses were gone, no scions remained to claim them, and with a heavy heart the Crown blah blah sure whatever dead nobles can't own anything so now the Crown's taking it back...makes sense. Still likely to be fighting about that, but less than there would've with a bunch of cousins and shit vying for scraps. Tess was already doing better than her great lump of a father at this, by his reckoning.
His reading slowed down significantly once he got to the next segment, where all those pictures sat in the middle of the paragraph. After a few seconds, his heart briefly stopped.
"Rumpole."
"Eh?"
"This is a proclamation o' th' establishment o' new houses."
"Ah, you've hit the nail squarely on the head!"
"I am not a noble, Rumpole!"
"That, my boy, is where you'd be wrong!" Reaching across the desk, the barrister plucked the scroll from Terry's stunned hands and rolled it back up. He didn't need to read it to talk about this part; he'd been warned well in advance that Terry Lias-Ambroce was going to be a bit touchy about it, and he'd come prepared.
"Like I said before, we've got a bit of a drought on almost every resource at present--and that includes nobility, wot? And as the Queen is a forward-thinking queen, she seems inclined to set things up before there's bunch of nasty squabbles while various up-and-comers try to do it themselves. Gilneas has had quite enough warring and destruction and we could all quite use a few years where we don't have more Gilnean deaths than births, eh?"
Terry made vague grasping motions at nothing with both hands, eyes wide. "I am not a noble!"
"Well, you're still technically correct, of course. No signatures, no change, eh?" Rumpole grinned, even while Terry barely reacted at all. "But you have gone and established yourself as a good candidate by the Crown's reckoning."
The lawyer began counting off on his fingers. "You have a strong military background with a nearly mythical reputation, good sir Lighthound. Did you really think that wouldn't reach the eyes of what remained of the court? Gilneas has precious few heroes, let alone living ones. Minor though you might think you are, you went and became one, eh?"
A second finger raised. "And, of course, you've the ability and the intent to lay claim to a not insignificant portion of land, here. And, if I'm not mistaken, you intend to take care of it properly, as a son of Gilneas ought."
The third finger went up as Rumpole fetched a specific sheet from the file he'd brought with him. "And then, of course, there's all these fascinating connections you've established. Both the Crusader-Lord and the Knight-Commander of the Argent Crusade; a retired Ironforge senator and patriarch of Clan Truthhammer and his wife, the High Priestess and Ambassador; Captain Sirenspawn and General Rutherford of the Grand Army of the Alliance... and those are just the direct ones. I've got records of you hobnobbing with Turalyon and Alleria, and attending the wedding of the First Arcanist Thalyssra and Regent Lord Lor'Themar..."
I told Dwyn I shouldn't have been there! Damn it!
"...and that's before I even touch on the indirect ones you have through your brother, and, of course, your wife."
"My w--"
"Well of course your wife, man!" Rumpole practically giggled at Terry's expression, situated somewhere right in the middle of furious and horrified. "You may not be a noble here, but through her, you're a noble there." He picked up another sheet from the file and gave it a little swat. "She went through all the picky nonsense to legitimize herself through the Doppelganger Decree of 28! Clever woman, that; lucky you, eh? And all clean and clear-cut on paper, that makes you the Baron of the Brightwood to your Baroness, eh?"
Of course Terry knew Shedwyn had been busy with all that. He'd been under the impression it was largely to spite all the jackass nobles who sneered down their noses at her, more than any real interest in the legitimacy of it all. Neither of them particularly wanted to be nobles, when nobles acted like that. He still wasn't sure what had been the tipping point: the third time somebody offered a tenth of the land's value to "take the burden off her pretty shoulders," or the one particularly offensive jackoff who'd commented that if she didn't have so much land, she might be able to deal with the "infestation" on it. He hadn't meant feral worgen.
Somehow, once Shedwyn had been formally and properly declared the Baroness of Brightwood Grove, Terry had still never truly connected himself to the thought that by marriage, he was therefore Baron.
Until now.
And he was pretty sure she'd done it to spite him, too.
It'd been three years.
She was never going to shut up about this one.
"The existing title isn't even a requirement for eligibility as far as the Queen is concerned, mind; it simply helps! A bit of borrowed legitimacy to add to your own impressive pile, eh? So. What do you say?"
"Come again?"
"Well, it's not something you have no say in, establishing your own house. Perhaps back in the day, when kings and queens tossed out titles like roses at a tournament, sure, but this is a very particular situation. Queen Greymane wants nobles who are Gilnean to their core; who are ready, willing, and able to do the work to bring our kingdom back to its former gloomy glory. And you, Sergeant, fit that bill, by my eyes and by the requirements she provided. But at the end of it all, it's your choice. If you are not willing, then the Crown is not interested in enslavement of any kind, even if it does come with prestige at the end of it. It's a choice, not an obligation, eh?"
A choice. One hell of a fucking choice. But this time, it actually felt like a choice; not a devil's bargain, where the alternative was objectively screwing him or someone he cared about. This had been a trap, to be certain, but not a literal one. It was the kind of trap where someone, somewhere, was laughing their ass off.
Terry Ambroce had always been a patriot. Even in his teens, when he was spitting acid about everything Genn Greymane said, did or would do, he did so for love of his country, not for himself. He'd intended to be part of the rebellion at Northgate, even, but everything had gone so wrong, so fast...
He'd learned since then that the fighting wasn't the hardest part. It was putting everything back together afterward. Fighting was easy. Battles had a beginning and an end; swords up, enough people died, swords down. Done. Reclamation, restoration, reconstruction... those went on for lifetimes. They required dedication, not eagerness. Building a nation was already hard enough; rebuilding one was a monumental effort. Holding it together, even harder still.
He'd spent half his life, now, insisting that Gilneas still lived. Even if he could never go home again, he knew he would've sworn on his deathbed that Gilneas still lived. And here, now, he had in front of him the opportunity to do what he'd wanted to do when he was a boy, and resuscitate it. He was already doing the math. Paper was the easy part, proclamations would be welcomed by many and growled about by few. Some of the growlers would inevitably start trying to cause trouble, test the viability of these new houses over and over. He could deal with skirmishers and bandits, but... politics?
---
Shu-fen was irritated. She'd gotten word from the Baron that morning that he'd been discharged, and that he would be picking up his children that afternoon. And yet, here she was, taking over that duty, since their normal escort had already been informed they could have the rest of the day off, and the Baron had failed to appear. It wasn't that escorting the Ambroce children was particularly difficult, as they behaved well for everyone except their parents; it was that she'd planned her day as well as the Baroness's around the exception, and now everything was out of order.
It came as no surprise to anyone, therefore, least of all Terry, when she punched him in the face as soon as he arrived. Part of that was because he'd surprised her, and it was really, really hard to do that, but still.
Once he'd gotten a moment to explain himself, she was willing to accept that perhaps he hadn't deserved to be punched in the face. And once he'd followed up with a suggestion, she actually apologized to him.
---
Shedwyn was worried. Shu-fen had dismissed some of the standard help, which wasn't anything to fret over, but then the Pandaren had received a notice, cursed, and excused herself. None of these things were particularly out of the ordinary--sometimes, shit just happened, after all; that was why she'd hired Shu-fen as an assistant in the first place. But, even after several years running of actual, honest-to-gods peace, she couldn't help but suspect more sinister things, given too much time to herself.
She was just about to go out looking for her when Shu-fen returned home. Her expression was a touch more wooden than usual, even with the tight little smile she was wearing, and that put Dwyn even more on edge.
"The Viscount of Keel to see you, madame."
Dwyn paused. "...The what of where? Hold on, that's not even on the schedule for today, is it?" In a brief, nearly panicked frenzy, she scrabbled through her papers to double-check.
Terry stepped into the doorway behind Shu-fen, who bowed respectfully and ducked outside to go have a good, loud cackle.
After a minute, Shedwyn finally thought to look up, and after another still, she parsed that this was indeed her husband, not some shadowy figure from her past back to haunt her yet again.
There was a pregnant pause.
"FUCKIN' WHAT?!"
( @daily-writing-challenge @shedwyn @sirdolraan @darbiebot @red-alynore )
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darbiebot · 6 months
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FFXIV Write 2023 Day 16: Jerk
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The skies were still red, the people weary and shaken. Aeryn made her way through the city to direct them to the assembly, for Vrtra’s announcement. In the Bazaar, she saw most of the shops closed up, the merchants filing out, but one stall remained open, the Raen man tending to it focused on his stock.
“Sir,” she called from the counter. “There’s to be an announcement.”
“I’ll hear about it later,” he said. “If you intend to purchase something—” he turned, and gasped. “Aeryn?”
Aeryn blinked up at the man. His tan skin contrasted against his scales, his hair blond, horns curling forward. His turquoise eyes were wide at the sight of her. “Danavat?”
“Ha! Haven’t seen you for a time,” he laughed, the sound slightly hollow. “Heard you went off to Eorzea after your brother.”
“I did,” she said. “My friends and I are here to help now.”
“Help? The sky is burning and people turn into monsters! What can you do to help that?”
“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “This is what we do.”
He peered at her. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
He laughed again. “Zaine’s brat little sister, thinking she’s some kind of hero.” He shook his head.
Aeryn sighed. “Believe what you will,” she said. “You should go to the square, though. The satrap has an announcement.”
“I heard the satrap is dead,” he said woodenly.
“Danavat, just come along. I promise, it will be worth it.”
“And if I refuse? Will you knock me down and drag me by the horn?”
“Your tail would work better for it,” Aeryn said lightly. “But no; you will do as you will.”
“Hmph. Perhaps you have changed; at least you seem to have a better hold of your temper.”
“I wish; I’m simply tired after…everything, the last…however long it’s been.” What time was it, even? With the starshower, she had lost track, only knowing everything ached and she was utterly exhausted. “Though you are still a jerk.”
He laughed, a little more genuinely this time. “All right, brat; I’ll go to the square for this announcement. It’s killed all business this afternoon anyway.”
“I’m sure your brother won’t mind.”
“My brother is among the missing,” he said shortly. “It seems I may have inherited his business. I hope not.”
She winced. “I’m sorry.”
Danavat sighed. “I know. Me too.” He finished closing the stall.
Aeryn turned to look down the row. “I think everyone else is gone, but I should—”
“Announcement in the square!” Danavat bellowed. “Make your way or be drug!” He smirked down at Aeryn. “There. Anyone left now knows.”
She couldn’t help the annoyance in her face and voice. “You really are a jerk still, Danavat.” She turned and began walking back to the square.
“I’ll have you know I can be perfectly charming,” he said, walking along with her. “If you’d not been such an ice queen and deigned to let me court you, you might have learned that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, never would have worked. Cuz you’re a jerk.”
“And you’re a brat. But one I’d still invite to dinner at the Mehane after this announcement.”
“Seriously?” She scowled up at him. He was grinning, and she could never tell if he was serious or not, even now. “Anyroad, I’m spoken for.” She showed her bracelet.
“Ha! Some things do change, it seems. They must have the patience of a saint.”
Aeryn laughed. “Something like that.” They continued walking.
“I heard about your brother,” Danavat said quietly as they reached the stair leading to the square. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. Me too,” she replied. She looked around and found her fellow Scions. “There are my friends I—”
“Then see you around, brat,” Danavat said with a smirk, heading into the crowds to get a better view.
She watched him, not as irate as she might have once been. Or perhaps it was the weariness again.
Or even just the relief at seeing yet another familiar face, even a contentious one, safe—for now.
Aeryn sighed and rejoined the Scions for Vrtra’s announcement.
--
(Danavat first appeared in a Febhyurary prompt)
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darbiebot · 7 months
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Reblogging here as well to update!
Financial help
I'm so sorry, but i'd like to ask for some help to get through the next week financially, trying to get together about 180 dollars to get some food and bills due before I get my next paycheck.
Venmo and paypal are [email protected] and any amount you can spare would really help out. I'll update if no more is needed.
Edit: thank you, all of you, i received what i needed. Very, very appreciated!
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darbiebot · 8 months
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It's impossible to resist the kindness of strangers. Someone who looks at you, who doesn't know you, who tells you it's OK, whatever you did, whatever you've done: you suffered, you hurt, you deserve forgiveness.
Paula Hawkins, The Girl on the Train
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darbiebot · 8 months
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July Mini-Mode DWC
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It was nearly five years ago that he had found himself staring into the portal to the Shadowlands, going through the list of ‘what ifs’ in his mind. His family would be there, somewhere; everyone but Kara, at least. He knew it would be an extremely slim chance of ever finding them, yet his eyes constantly searched regardless during his brief time in Oribos.
He found himself in a similar situation today, staring into an open time rift from afar, wondering similar, yet very different questions. Of course within most of these rifts the world had fallen to enemies they had already defeated within their own time, but he had heard stories of other ‘normal’ rifts opening and people suddenly finding themselves face-to-face with another them from a different timeline. 
It was extremely probable that there were various timelines out there where both his wife and son would still be alive and thriving. Kynson would be a grown man by now, and perhaps Dice would find himself to be a grandpa in another life. The possibilities were endless. Surely there was a timeline where Dicenne himself had died and his wife and son survived, and maybe they were thinking the same thing…
What if….
It was a terrible rabbit hole to fall down into, but with all the current events it was impossible not to question everything and envision this bizarre ‘happily ever after’. But that’s what the timewalker wardens and guardians were here to fix and to prevent. Still…
“Dice, you ok?” A tap on his shoulder stirred him from his trance.
He blinked a few times, and turned to look at Felonous, who was now also peering off into the distance. “Yeah, sorry, just…lost in thought.”
“We all think about it too. Hard not to, right? If only we could figure out how to get to that ‘perfect’ timeline that would fix all of our wounds and woes.”
Dicenne nodded in agreement. “But then you still have the memory of all those things happening, and you wouldn’t have had the same experiences with the same people. They wouldn’t share any of those memories. Sounds like it would be a little lonely in many ways, and selfish in others.”
Felon smiled and hooked an arm around his friend’s waist, turning him away from the distant rift. “Smart man. C’mon, it’s too early for an existential crisis. We got some weapons and armor that need to be fixed.”
@daily-writing-challenge​ @felonous
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darbiebot · 1 year
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You got me :P
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darbiebot · 1 year
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@darbiebot
Darlain is working as a healer for the Dragonscale expedition and will be mostly traveling between the basecamp and the ruby life pools, assisting the dragons there as well to protect the newly incubating eggs. She's also keeping an eye on her oldest daughter, Lorellei, who joined the expedition and is having her first proper adventure.
@pinpep
Pinapple has recently retired from her position of Commander of the Silver Dragoons, a military turned mercenary contract unit. Having the space to explore her interests more, she developed a love of photography, and, having been inspired by so many historical novels as a child, has produced several photo journals sold as adventure guides, spending time in an area and researching the culture, landmarks, and biology to include. She's an official cataloguer for the expedition, where she's developed a bit or a loathing for Cataloguer Wulford and is motivated to just outdo him in every regard. She is, unfortunately, hard to find though, always on the move, with her husband helping with transport and logistics.
@deagra-wra
Deagra, taking her lessons from Revendreth seriously, has dedicated her skills and fortune towards helping worthy causes. She will be based in Valdrakken, helping to set up commerce between the dragons and the mortals there, and will be attempting to emulate a profitable "adventurer's" economy that she's put into practice to help frontier and refugee towns after the fourth war's conclusion. Investing in gaming facilities, both gambling and skill based contests (a few fight rings as well), with proceeds mostly going to assist with the expedition costs.
Opalthel
Though a powerful evoker and active member of the Dark Talons, Opalthel often spends her downtime exploring Azeroth. She's especially fond of the mortals she's begun to live with, and enjoys learning about their cultures and cuisine. She will often be found in the Horde cities, but is also called to Valdrakken to serve her weryn.
Where are they now?
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@dicenne​ He’s going to be spending some of his time in Valdrakken learning about the new ores and stones from their blacksmiths - and maybe teach them a thing or two as well! He will also be offering free repairs to the military/mercenary groups.
@xylaes​ & @talonoa​ Talon is once more running a mercenary crew that this time will be aiding the Dragonscale Expedition, and Xylaes will be joining him again - with his son @garrennorassin​! They will be mainly at the Dragonscale Basecamp in the Waking Shores and escort the Expedition on various journeys to the surrounding lands. Other friends will be there as well joining them and we may be doing some RP in the area if others are interested!
@polluxhale​ Pollux always goes where the main action is happening since he’s hardcore military. He gets all the scouting ahead missions and tends to be one of the first people in any of the new areas. He’ll be around Thaldraszus, then heading into the Vault of the Incarnates.
@tristennedarkmorn​ The crew of the Lady Lillium (including @felonous​, @rylandfalkov​, and surprise guest @taricdarkmorn​) will have their ship mainly around Iskaara in the Azure Span, picking up mercenary work in the area. They may move around the various lands, but will usually be near the coastline.
Tazindrox (My Dracthyr - No tumblr yet!) He’s with his Dark Talons brethren helping to protect the expedition. His basecamp is Valdrakken, but will be traveling all over the Isles wherever needed!
@dajjalen​ He’s working as a mercenary with a group of demon hunters that are currently helping out around the Obsidian Citadel in the Waking Shores.
@vixannya​ Once portals to and from Valdrakken are fully established, she would likely visit there to experience the foods and shopping. She would also be on the lookout for interesting individuals to paint!
@rhysgoodwin​​ He is not terribly interested in leaving the farm right now!
WHERE ARE YOURS?
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darbiebot · 1 year
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Adventure Guide to the Dragon Isles: Introduction
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darbiebot · 1 year
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Adventure Guide to the Dragon Isles: Introduction
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darbiebot · 1 year
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On who should be the next aspect
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darbiebot · 1 year
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Daily Writing challenge Nov 2022 - Day 1 Instinct - Pinapple
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Her breath exhaled, producing a warm fog in the chilled air. It had taken her four hours to scale the nearby precipice, and that was after months of research and negotiation with the Highmountain tribe. Not that they weren't amenable to the idea, only magazines and photography were technologies that fairly new and mostly distributed through the goblin networks, and the Broken Isles had only begun to make the connections of trade within the last few years.
As a result, she'd taken to travel with her portfolio, examples of pictures at each stage of development, examples of her cultural pieces, which she often worked with a local translator to convert to the local language. This had been a particularly lengthy endeavor, as the Highmountain were one of several Tauren communities in the area, her training as a scout with the Silver Dragoons certainly came to play in getting the lay of the land, though she appreciated that she was able to turn those discerning eyes towards perfect shots rather than gauging these people as potential threats. How different her world had become.
The fourth War had come and gone, and with it, her former purpose. Her childlike desires for fame and glory and heroics had been marred with reality, the cynicism and horror of conflict. But she had taken the thrill of adventure forward, of seeing sites she had never seen, learning about the environments, how they shaped the creatures and peoples of an area, what those people believed, how they lived.
She held her breath, kept very still, sensed the movement and air off to the right and heard a confused exclamation in... Quel-darassian, maybe, certainly elvish. She denied herself the instinct of turning her head away to check on the disturbance, only for the wyvern carrying a robed rider revealed itself in her perfect shot, and she smiled as she hit the shutter, her camera taking a scattering of shots in the matter of seconds. Normally she would take a few more angles, but... at this point she knew... that... that was the shot she wanted. A city that was a tower in the air, a beacon of life and activity nestled in the center of a mountain and a mighty river.
The perfect shot.
@daily-writing-challenge
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darbiebot · 1 year
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I'll be doing this off week as I can, just had really bad timing with me needing to work quite a bit this week.
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DAILY WRITING CHALLENGE 2022 IS BACK!
YOU DO NOT HAVE TO USE THE ACTUAL WORD FOR THIS CHALLENGE, YOU MAY SIMPLY BASE YOUR STORY AROUND ONE OF THESE IDEAS!
Choose one or both words/IDEAS and write a story, drabble, poem, or anything else once a day, every day, for a week!
Tag @daily-writing-challenge so we can reblog your stories.
Write the number day/challenge somewhere on your story.
LIST CONTENT WARNINGS VISIBLY ABOVE STORY! (Use a ‘read more’ line if content gets too graphic.)
Tags that will be used: #novemberdwc2022,  #novemberdayX2022 (X=whatever number day you’re writing for), #yourtumblrurl
There will be no optional challenges for the weekly DWC’s, but please feel free to make up some of your own challenges!
The next writing challenge will be next year!
CLICK HERE FOR OTHER IMPORTANT INFORMATION!
Good luck and more importantly, HAVE FUN! Encourage your fellow writers and show them some love and support with likes/reblogs/comments!
We look forward to reading some amazing writing!
((Written word list below the cut))
Keep reading
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darbiebot · 2 years
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DWC August 2022 Day 7: Peace
@daily-writing-challenge
Darlain was utterly exhausted, after 16 hours in labor anyone would be. She thought she'd been through the worst when Holden was born, but twins.... she was elated now that it was all over. Just as her eyes began to close, a knock on the door snapped her attention to the silhoutte of her husband, and all the kids in tow.
She smiled at them wearily, giving them a shaky wave, "'ello loves..."
Shin lept onto the nearby couch and onto the bed, Lorelei thankfully had the sense to guide her little sister away from actually crawling over her mother for the hug, though the gesture did elicit a bit of a pained grunt from Darlain. "Easy, easy, gotta be careful there, loves."
Drogar chuckled and leaned over for a kiss, while Holden looked at some of the equipment in the room, curious about what everything was for, she'd have to give him a tour one day of an infirmary, she made a mental note. Lorelei... for her part, looked a bit bored, 16 hours was quite a bit of time to ask for a girl her age, and this was the poor girl's third time present at the birth of siblings, so Darlain didn't hold it against her... much.
Another knock at the door, and a broad shouldered nurse walked in with two bundled babies in tow, fraternal, it seemed, with the corresponding green and purple bows to indicate the genders. "Just droppin off the new family. They're 'ealthy and 'ale, seem to be no issues, we'll get our resident priest in tae 'eal ya up, should be able tae discharge ya by the end o' the day!"
She handed the girl over to Drogar, and the boy was nestled into Darlain's arms, both crying terribly... she was already anticipating the difficult concept of feeding both, not having yet formed a plan for that... but they'd deal with that in a moment. She paused to take in this big, wonderful family of hers, all together and growing and changing.
She wondered how she got so lucky.
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darbiebot · 2 years
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DWC August 2022 Day 6: Zealous
Deagra caught on early, it helped that dwarves didn't often frequent areas this far south, stereotypes were accurate at times, and the humid jungles and sea air didn't agree with many of her peoples. Perhaps her choice to settle in the mountain clearing near Booty Bay had something to do with how different it was to Shadowforge, without being uncomfortably cold, of course.
Then again, stepping out onto a balcony to take in a few of vibrant waves beating on a pristine beach while drinking a cold lime cocktail was a fairly nice perk, a little gift from her to her for escaping her society before it became popular, she mused.
But yes, the dark iron trailing knew how to move without being noticed, knew how to dress without drawing attention, knew how to blend in a crowd. But she grew up leaning how to watch for assassins, he moved like them.
She kept calm, from all the unsavory lessons that came from her upbringing, she was grateful for this. She made her rounds to the shops, bargained, talked to her business associates, all the while subtly forming the magics she'd learned, drawing just a bit of energy from those she passed in the busy docks, channeling it all into her focus.
Once she left, 100 feet or so up the road out of town, she sprung her trap, a quick incantation, her would-be assassin jumped back in surprise as a fiery glyph appeared just behind him, a handsome, devilish figure emerging through the ground, Rhyalin must have been feeling particularly male today, Deagra mused, as her Sayaad emerged, working their magic quickly, the dwarf quickly lost the tension in his muscles, caught in a particularly alluring illusion.
"Mmm... he's ripe, will you be letting us have a little fun today, mistress?" They spoke in a rather singsong voice, a bit interesting as it was in their native infernal language.
Hers was more curt, her pacts may have been bound to her permanently in her childhood, the sacrifices long since made on her behalf, sins that were mercifully attributed to her parents, she'd discovered.
Putting on a seductive tone to her voice, she mewled to the captive assassin. "Hey there... what's a lovely lil' thing like you doin out 'ere?"
A cocky response. "To kill a traitor. If I come back with her head, the sons of Ragnaros will give me more power."
She puts a hand on his shoulder, tracing a finger down the muscles of his right arm, "Ohh, they sound important, who are they, how do they know about this traitor?"
"I used to work for the Stonehelms, saw how their child betrayed them, knew how she murdered her own mother after the massacre of the Senate. They were loyal to the Fire Lord, they would have been able to lead us through the death of the emporer, but she... she took it all!" He looked over at her and gave her a wink, "We'll make all those who abandoned our lord to treat with the damned Bronzebeards pay, and our slumbering lord will reward us when we being him upon the world again!"
She could feel his muscles flex, the magics were working, his look more amorous and obsessive.
A zealot. Given the choice of freedom, he chose to remain bound. to kill, to take slaves, to continue the cycle of suffering.
"Rhylian?" She coolly walked up the road toward as she spoke.
"Yes Mistress?" They responded, a hope of satisfaction in their voice.
"Have your fun. Just with this one."
She heard the sound of a whip crack, and she heard his scream.
No guilt for this one. He made his choice.
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darbiebot · 2 years
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DWC August 2022 - Day 5 - Fluff
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Kiwi was a simple cat, she made it clear what she expected, when she expected it, and in return, her compatriots would enjoy the company she deigned to impart upon them.
Not today.
They all slumbered, it was time for food. Didn't they know, didn't they understand?
Clearly she had to be taught a lesson. Kiwi observed her from up the shelving high above, still blissfully slumbering in her soft nest that she, in her arrogance, had attempted to banish Kiwi from claiming.
Attempted, unsuccessfully, of course.
Action was required, an answer to the injustice inflicted upon Kiwi.
She leapt.
The bulk of her slammed into the smaller compatriot, the one who'd be graced with her presence the longest, honestly she should have known better by now. And, after a good deal of yelping and meowling, Kiwi was served her breakfast.
Justice.
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darbiebot · 2 years
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DWC August 2022 day 4- Exhaustion
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Deagra sighed, taking a deep breath and wiping away the sweat from her brow. Starting up the music again, she counted internally as she walked over to the dancing pole she had installed, on the downbeat she pulled herself up, her arms ached with the effort and she began her routine.
She didn't entirely have the body for this, inspired by one of Dice's routines, and feeling like she wanted to try for a more overall entertaining performance for the year's tarts showings, she committed. It helped that her work in Revendreth had her doing more general walking, currently she was likely the healthiest she'd ever been in her life, cloistered as it had been.
It wasn't just to jazz things up, not entirely. Dwarves like her didn't frequent this type of work, she'd found. Short and stocky usually didn't make the standards of "sexy" amongst the greater peoples of the world. Deagra did love a challenge.
That being said, she had a long way to go before she was ready for the acrobatics of her more... athletic colleagues, especially when her leg cramped while she was upside-down on the pole, and spinning. With a cry of pain she dropped and twirled in the air, and with a dull thud her vision went dark.
She awoke in a state of confusion, feeling dizzy and sore all over. Probably a concussion, she mused, as she struggled to get on her feet, her body not cooperating. Flopping back in defeat, reached over to get a hand through the loops of her bag, thankfully lying beside the sofa near her, pulling out her communication pad.
"Hey uhh... think I hurt myself a bit in the practice room... little help guys?"
It was good that Revendreth had taught her to be humble.
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darbiebot · 2 years
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DWC August 2022 day 3- Sentimental
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Holden grunted in exertion as they crested the hill, his feet more accustomed to paved roads, he'd never really taken to the outdoors like his father, much to his chagrin. Unfortunately, his mother was far more used to travel as well, and there she was, waiting down the path on the other side, waiting for him. "Mom... slow down..." he complained catching his breath, the tone a bit more whiny than he'd intended, his mother's smirk was a bit embarrassing, made him feel like a child.
"Oh, i'm sorry, just exited! Peaks just down the way from 'ere, look!" she pointed eastward, and the young dwarf looked upon the large Gryphon statue overlooking the vast valley below. Hill dwarves were an apt descriptor, there were rolling roads going up and down hills all over, and little smokestacks and windows signifying several hundred homes within them.
"Why are you so excited, anyway?" he asked, again. "I dont think you mentioned any relatives that still lived here?"
Darlain sighed as she turned and headed down the path once more, "Now now, this was my 'ome, and this is me clan, and yer part o' that. Tradition's important lad, and you 'ave a choice tae make, just like all my children."
That peaked his curiosity. "You took Lorelei 'ere?"
His mother nodded. "Aye... though uhh... she made a surprisin' choice." His eyebrow raised at that, and he hurried to match her pace.
His answer would come as they met with clan elders, had a hearty meal at the inn, and finally met with the local shaman, dressing him up in simple robes adorned with gryphon downs.
He was led up the pathways carved into the mountains to the north, and he saw them, perched within carved out holes in the mountain, at least fifty large gryphons, some watchful, some enjoying naps, some messily tearing into prey they had brought back to their roosts.
An elderly man, his beard long and grey, adorned in a feathered headband, his face and arms painted in elaborate blue tattoos. His mother bowed before him, and Holden mirrored his movements. "Come, boy, we'll let her take a look at you." Holden eyed his mother curiously as he was lead into the main Aerie, and his mother simply smiled and encouraged him onward.
"We wild'ammer," the man spoke as they walked. "'ave an understandin' with these majestic creatures, lad. And though you 'ave nae been raised in the 'interlands, yer blood still speaks our covenant with them."
"What do y'mean?" Holden inquired, nervously.
"Gryphons require a lot o' food tae keep goin, mothers kin wear themselves out feeding themselves, much less their children. Used tae be a time where entire clutches would be lost, even in prosperous times. They used tae 'unt us, though meager was out meat compared to larger game.... so tae save ourselves, far and long ago, we lived under 'ills, and shared our kills, till they learned we were better alive."
The two stopped at a large nest, a proud, gold and brown feathered Gryphon looked up in anticipation eying three eggs still nestled in what was a much larger nest, her head cocked curiously seemingly sizing up Holden with an unnerving intelligence behind her eyes.
"Over time, we were permitted in their spaces, just as they joined us in ours. They 'unted the wyverns that plagued the skies and still 'unted us, we made spaces, aeries, for them to roost. And when the mothers were forced tae abandon some of their clutch... we took them. And we raised 'em tae bear our warriors. This 'as been the way of things fer thousands o' years. Tae the point where... that is what is done."
He held out a shaky hand to the gryphon's beak, petting her affectionately. "This'll be the last egg of 'er clutch she'll be giving to us tae care fer. And as a child o' one of our clan, you'll be 'aving a choice. Which o' the eggs will yeh be taking... if ya be taking on the charge at all?"
Holden smiled to himself, now knowing why his mother had brought him here. How she had once been given this choice, how much finding Patience alive had affected her, he remembered seeing her cry when she'd taken him on his first flight with the old Gryphon. How exhilarating it had been for him to soar above the clouds.
As he approached the mother, she lowered her head, and instinctually, he raised his hand to press against her forehead. She pressed towards him affectionately, but with enough force to catch him offguard, sending him off his feet, eliciting a worried coo from her. laughing a bit at his lack of constitution, Holden got to his feet... and chose his egg. He picked the smallest of the three. walking out to show his mother.
Her smile was infectious, he couldn't help but share in her joy.
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