#Shadeala Moonsong

[pettyelves]

three’s a crowd

[Hostage Remix]

A trip to the Darkmoon Faire was spent absently watching Aydri and Shaedoril in the beginnings of a love story. In clashing competitions, and sharing of sugar-coated treats, the Kaldorei were a smart match. 

Mirin and Zelphryin did not share romantic competition, little gifts or giggles between them. They shared. Simply. An understanding. He walked a half pace behind her and she a pace behind Aydri and Shaedoril up the path to the sage who gave out slips of paper filled with fortunes.

“To seek a diviner’s advice is to invite another into your mind,” Zelphryin said, when Aydri and Shae persisted that he get a fortune. Mirin found them interesting-- not for magical services, but the way they seemed to know the subtle cues and codes in people’s words and eyes. 

An enemy of your past will soon become an ally. 

Read the fortune given to Mirin’s slender fingers. She had thought this fortune was one steamy shower too late. Zelphryin spent the remainder of his time making subtle remarks aimed at Aydri, propositions meant to ruffle Shaedoril’s feathers as much as her own. Before he left, he’d spent a child up to Mirin with a note that said only: 

Provocation.

In Stormwind, Zelphryin warned Mirin that if he came to finish what they had started two nights before in the bathhouse-- she would have to share. It had surprised him to know that she was open to such a proposition. 

From the top floor of the Astral Rise, Mirin’s balcony was situated just so that she could see across to his door. Even so late at night-- no visitor. She was dressed in a sheer gown, short heels, and stockings that fell mid-thigh and the final item was a coat that covered all of it.

She knocked on the door a single time. Though she guessed that he must have strolled leisurely though the hall to greet her. In her hand, she held up the uneaten truffle. "I had the thought to share," she said, dipping her head back to look up at him. "Miss Mirin," he said with a grin and opened the door wider to allow her in. "How generous, truly, but I am afraid the evenings main event has cold feet. I was just about to head out the Cock and Candle. You are welcome to a accompany, of course. All expenses paid."

The way he called her Miss raked her stomach in a way that she could not decide. It punched her pride, but pulled something much lower in her toward him. Provocation.  "Lady," she corrected and moved forward. "No," she said, "I do not think that is on the agenda for this evening." Tonight, she boldly placed her hand on his chest and pressed him backward. Not hard, but enough so that she might enter and the door left to shut behind her.

 "Take me to your bedroom," it was another even demand.

By the belt of her coat, he walked her backward-- pleased or at the very least intrigued by her boldness. The room itself was modern but largely inconsequential as Mirin’s goal was the bed. A dresser cabinet, a second dresser, a decorative lounge chair, two night stands and a very large framed bed. The particular sheet design was not like anything sold in Dead Sun. It was painstakingly quilted by hand with what looked like small thin beads of actual gold used to embellish its patterning. And so many... many pillows.

“You may want to turn down that very well-crafted cover, Zelphryin,” she said, pulling herself from of her coat. "I assure you Miss Mirin, the ruin of this gold comforter should be the least of concerns," his jacket was abandoned more quickly, hands gripping her flesh-- kisses hard against her lips. When her back hit the bed she hissed out a final correction, “Lady.”

They dove into one another in a manner that was slow and firm, greedy. Another understanding that violent indulgence was most certainly part of whatever their unspoken agreement had become. 

Rounds in, he had just lifted her up into her life and pressed hard kiss against her collar. So distracted, neither heard the first knock at the door.

"Maybe our other participant has had a change of heart,” Zelphryin offered, with slight irritation."Perhaps the first lesson to learn her will be punctuality." She let herself fall back into the many pillows, a smirk at him as he collected himself. 

He withdrew from her slowly, collected his dress pants from off the floor. He used the sweat on his brow to smooth back his hair and hemomancy played its own minor role in aiding to compose himself by the time he reached  his front door to open it.

 Eventually she managed to stand to look in a mirror and clean herself, mostly attending to her hair. From her position, she could stare straight down the hall to the dirty-blonde human woman that shyly offered Zelphryin chocolates.The two of them locked eyes at a distance, but Zelphryin spoke, “I fear your lateness has caused you to miss both appetizer and entree...But it appears that your timing is spot on for dessert."

"L-late? Oh I suppose, I just didn't..want to arrive too early. Who is that?" She asked. Her skin. Her whole body was cold to the touch, emitting none of the heat Zelphryin did. "Shouldn't we..have introductions. W-wine and dessert?" The name given at the registry was Leigh Groves, and Zelphryin led her right too Mirin’s grasp. 

"That,"  The hand on her waist drifted further to the front of her commoner's dress where he tugged loose the thin corded tie that allowed it to fit slightly more figure friendly. "Is my assistant, Miss Mirin. She is going to help you dress appropriately for the occasion while I retrieve you that glass of wine."

"He means Lady," Mirin said, unabashedly leaning to clean the bottom of her lip stain."While I am not his assistant, I will help you dress." She gestured, "I suggest you sew or purchase a black dress. A tight one. It should suit your..budget and black dresses are very easily mistaken for expensive." Mirin's fingers were more delicate than Zelphryin's, when she wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. "Since you've not brought a dress," she said, leaning to the woman's ear, "Let us hope what is underneath will suffice." Mirin noticed just then, how cold the woman's cheek was against hers. "Did you come in from the snow?" There was silence in the next room. 

Something churned in Mirin’s stomach.Dread. Doubt. A warning?

“You are so lovely," she said, rubbing her freezing face into Mirin's chest. Mirin froze up at this sudden display of clinging. 

"So  I have been told," Mirin said, a raised brow as she watched her place clumsy, cold kisses down to the sigil tattoo on her lower chest bone. "Do you have Lord Shol'Shar's eyes, Lady Mirin?" The blonde asked as she rubbed the skin of her cheek against Mirin's beige skin. Mirin's eyes went wide. A moment where every alarm bell in her body began ringing. The woman's face raised to look at Mirin, eyes milky and skin paling. A single word came from the woman’s lips: 

“Break.”

Almost in tandum, a firm but calm toned Zelphryin said, “Mirin~” She answered, just as calm, “I know.” The truffles within the chocolate box, popped like eggs, hosting slugs from the witch Morrigan. 

In seconds, Zelphryin’s shadows twisted from the ceiling as chains to bind the corpse-proxy in place. Mirin pushed away from the woman, just before the chains descended, but it was not in time to stop the second spell. 

“Swarm,” came a voice that was not Leigh's, out of her mouth-- and immediately followed by a mouth full of swarming flies that crashed into Mirin's face. The chains wrapped up the attacker and her head swung around limply. "Show us. Show us!" She gurgled out. 

Mirin swatted and flailed against the flies that crashed against her face like a wave. So fixed on killing the proxy, Zelphryin had not noticed the slug burrowing into his ankle. He crossed through the room around them and pulled a bone dagger from a box on his dresser and rammed into the corpse’s head. 

Mirin felt the pressure on her mind and she staggered out of her heels toward Zelphryin. The rune on her chest began to pulsate with an old and dark magic. It was likely she was fighting the control.

As Mirin staggered towards him, his face remained mostly shielded from view by a curtain of black hair. In those short seconds it appeared as though he had redeemed control as the hand on the side of his head fell away and reached out to her invitingly. The tips of his fingers walked along and around the bare skin of her waist, drawing her comfortingly towards him and into his side as he peeled himself up into a stand. A sensual touch of his other hand started up her arm and the angle of his head made it seem as though he were inspecting her for injury. Until he looked up at her face.

Amber eyes had been swallowed by a blackness pitcher than a starless night and black veins reached out from around them across his face in a spiderwebbing pattern. As they locked with her's, both hands snapped around her tender throat. Driving his thumbs up into the tender gap of her hollow.He was far stronger than he looked.

Mirin was not hurt physically, so much as she was suffering from a massive migraine in one side of her head. Inside of her head, there was a game of cat and mouse. What her attacker didn't realize, yet was Mirin was a very clever mouse.

Talking wasn't easy, she started with inaudible whispers to ask if he was alright. Her hand fell on his bare skin and she struggled to main her eyes from changing. After all, some secrets were better left between them. She let out a shaking 'mmm' as though his touch relieved her. Relief that was short lived.

When he gripped, Mirin's eyes opened wider than was natural an audible choke. Her instinct was to try and pry his hands from her neck, but physical strength was not her suit. Slowly, her pupils shifted. Black bars that were not unlike the eye's of a goat. "Zelphryin," she mouthed it, but had no air to say it. Her fingers clawed at him, but when she realized that her attacker-- both the proxy, and the one in her head were in position. She snapped her trap.

The rune on her chest ignited with dark magic and practically burned on her skin with shadows. A hand reached clumsily cover his eyes and she threw her shadow at him with the utmost vigor. It was not unlike the connect they had first shared in his kitchen. Mirin's voice spoke a strange spell that came, from her mind to his-- but was likely aimed at the one that pressed on them both.

“Witness the Infinite”

[@kurel-andiel​ for Zelphryin @revthepunchbear​ for Shae @moonbaki​ for Aydri @shaded-hawke​ for Part II ]

#Alt postings #Mirin #The Infinite #Shadeala Moonsong #The Bog Witch

[velerodra-valesinger]

Revisiting Old Alleys

Prelude to this meeting can be found here.   @straygems. Posted from mobile - this post will look bad on the mobile app! ))

It wasn’t an easy task, to maintain her Sin’dorei appearance. It involved allowing the fel energy within her to swell and keep the void energy dampened to the point that none of the physical mutations showed themselves. Her flesh was the soft pink it once was, her hair platinum blonde with just a few stubborn strands of blue remaining. Most importantly the tendrils were starved of the void energy they required and so there was little risk of them sprouting up. As long as Vel kept her focus.

Such shifts in her energy were always difficult to maintain for long periods of time, but she didn’t intend on lingering in the city long.

She glance up and down the alleyway, expectantly. Her eyes turned to her wrist, as if to look at a watch that wasn’t there.

“So you homesick or something?” Violensia’s voice came from above her. Vel glanced up, “This place was never quite what I’d call home.” Violensia deftly leapt from the brick ledge she’d been perching upon, landing gracefully in front of the blonde monkette.

Vel couldn’t help but be impressed at just how good the rogue was when it came to disguises. No, not just disguises, the rogue, lived the lives of several different, distinct beings. Violensia was just one. As for who she really was, Vel didn’t know her name, only that she was Rubiaura’s twin sister.

“Then why meet me here? If not for old times sake?” The rogue asked, her eyes dark and focused.

Vel didn’t actually have an answer for that. Perhaps part of her did miss the city. Or perhaps she just needed a change of pace. Either way she didn’t answer, she simply began to speak.

“Rubiaura has recovered from her - episode.” Vel began, as if it to say ‘I kept an eye on her, don’t stab me’. Violensia’s hands curled into fists almost out of instinct. “Good. That’s good Blondie.”

Vel continued to get to the reason she sought out the rogue in the first place, “I need you to look into someone for me. Shadeala Moonsong of Black Sun shipping…. you’ve likely heard of her, as at least one of your many personas runs in similar circles.”

Violensia nodded, “Heard the name, arms dealer mainly, though from what little I’ve heard she deals in far more than just arms.”

Vel nodded. “Yes. I want to know about her involvement in the slave trade. I believe she sells them and I am particularly interested in learning who she is obtaining her merchandise from. And how often ships full of slaves arrive at her docks in Stormwind. I imagine they don’t linger long.”

Vel paused. That was her main interest. But she had others. “Additionally, I would like to know who her biggest customers are - in general. She sells just about anything, but I want to know who is making the biggest purchases. And if possible, get an idea of how many ships she makes use of and if they travel in regular routes.”

Violensia looked at Vel a bit oddly. “You don’t want me looking into her or her people directly? Just - who she does business with and what kind?”

Vel nodded. “That’s correct, I do not want to risk her noticing I am looking into anything at all. That is why I came to you. You live many lives, and I am sure a few of them could obtain some of the information I seek without seeming out of the ordinary.”

Violensia nodded and looked at Vel. “I will get back to you Blondie.”

Vel rolled her eye, “Vel…”. But by the time she’d spoke the rogue was gone.

She lingered in the alleyway for a few more minutes. It felt familiar, yet somehow different. The whole city sort of felt like that to her now. Perhaps it was in her head, or perhaps in her time away she’d changed more than she’d realized.

Vel looked down and sighed, and hoped taking this more cautious approach would yield useful information. Vel assumed that when Shadeala’s juggernaut failed to return to her, that she’d send another minion after those of the Harbor. She could get away with nearly anything in Stormwind, and she seemed like the type to play to her advantage. And it’s not like it wasn’t taking a toll.

Vel stretched her arms up over her head. She took a few laps around the city. Eventually exiting through the gates, heading back south.

#old ground #velstuff #gathering information #saphyre #(who has many names) #shadeala moonsong

[theshalthera]

the woman who walks alone at night

“And you are certain?” Endessa’s voice rang in melody. 

“You are the most suitable for this task,” An’Set answered. “He enjoys women, elves in particular. Sister cannot risk dirtying her hands-- this came directly off of the list that Aunt Elsennia crafted.”

“Pity, isn’t it? Once all her work has been carried out, do you suppose our leaders will have ceased their arguing?” 

“No.”

Endessa answered him in a hum, as though she agreed with me. “Well, then help your grandmother, my hair, twist it up.” 

By the time her hair was fixed up into a long, but more manageable pony tail, it had been half an hour. 

“Impractical,” An’Set offered.

“Impetuous.” The elder Kaldorei answered with a smile.

“Do you remember everything from Loren’s dossier?” 

“Goddess, An’Set- do not be cruel to an old woman. My mind and body are sharp as ever. And your sister--did you tell her anything?”

“Plausible deniability,” he grunt slipping a red comb into the crown of Endessa’s hair to off-set the white. 

“Not ever the target’s connection to Shadeala Moonsong?”

“Irrelevant.” He offered his arm to Endessa, helping her to her feet from in front of the vanity. “Please do not create a mess, grandmother.” 

Endessa scoffed, tucking her arms into her sleeves. “Please, you wound me. Ya’Til-Anath, grandson.” And this she was gone, out into the night.

There was something eldritch in the way Endessa walked, her head up, regal posture. It was not a walk- it was a glide, as though she floated across the dirty streets of Boralus. 

The rain did not seem to bother her, though she looked about the streets as though she was lost. She’d been waiting for an hour for her target to break out of the bar, and the opportunity arose when the man stepped out, alone.

His grubby hand rolled a cigarette and he glued his eyes on Endessa as she came to a stop to look down either street. “Lost, dove?” he asked with a grunt of a laugh. “Let Henry tell you tha’ way-- know this city betta’ than a Proudmoore!” 

Endessa covered her lips with her sleeve, chuckling softly. “Oh would you? I wished to find a place to rest for the evening, but I’m terribly lost. Is this Upton?” 

Henry let out a guffaw, “No, m’lady it’s about the farthest from it. How’s about I show you tha’ way, maybe give ya a tour of the real gems of Boralus.” He grinned, offfering out an arm, which she took. 

The thing about bad men, was that they often looked like every other man. Henry wasn’t any different. 

Her mind shuffled through the dossier:

Henry James Ruger. Human, Thirty-nine.

Then skipped down:

Trafficking persons numbered in the thousands

Then the names, leagues of names of elves, humans-- varied in age. All labeled now, as ‘missing’ to the Alliance or Horde respectively. 

When they turned down an alley, Henry’s hand dropped down her back and dangerously inappropriate, onto her bottom. “Could make a stop here, whatcha say? A fava’ for a fava’?” 

Endessa’s typically kind eyes grew cold- it was, perhaps a more natural look-- one that all Duskbringer’s possessed. “Do you know what I find the most disgusting about you?”

Henry blinked, as though perplexed by the question. He did not get a second chance to respond before Endessa’s eyes pulsed dark lavender and she whipped her arm around. Out of her sleeve a knife flew and looped around him to stab Henry in the back. Before he could shout, Endessa was in front of him, her hand clapped over his mouth before she threw her weight to slam him up against the alley wall.

 “It’s that you’re handsome, for a human-- handsome and charming and you’ve used your beauty this way. Now,” she swung out her air, knives filing out of her sleeve and hovering around her. Each was inscribed with arcane runes, and each responded to the Seal Maker’s will. “Tell me where your ships make birth, and when next they move. The more detail, the quicker your death.” 

“Y-YOU CU--” He began, when she let her hand off, but was silenced when a second knife buried itself in his forearm. Endessa hummed.

“And if you give me something on Moonsong? Well, then perhaps you’ll have a good death.”

When she was finished, Endessa pulled, in total, nineteen knives out of Henry James Ruger’s body. Off of his body, she took everything of value-- coin purse, rings, and identification papers. Whomever found his body would likely think that Henry had brushed, unfortunately, with some maniac thief. And Endessa, she was back through in Stormwind without a trace left behind her. 

[ @eilitheduskbringer @deadsunharbor @revthepunchbear for Shade]

#side pieces #Endessa #An'Set

[pettyelves]

🌟 CAUSALITY

"Poetic," Eilithe uttered as though she were disgusted.

"Suppose the most recent I can think of is Shadeala Moonsong. A couple decades' worth of shit that one brought me." She was slow to start but once she began, the whole thing flowed out of her. "All it took to start a war between her and I was one, single bad deal. One stepped on ego, one time fucking with someone's money. The funny thing is, I wasn't even there. It was No'Vindere and Raylen that started it all."

"What I can remember is all that came after. The day that her lackey stole my daughter right from under my nose. Because of both Moonsong and I's egos, two kids ended up with pain they should have never had to live through. Because I wanted revenge for what she did to Eilonwy, forty-three men and women are dead and I mourn for them."

Eilithe kept her eyes out on the bay in Dead Sun. "Causality reminds me that there is a price for everything."

@revthepunchbear for Moonsong and Silthas (the other kiddo mentioned)

[pettyelves]

the man on fire

[boy on fire] [ vacationing ]

She had come home to a quiet house, kissed her children, and immediately gone to the bath. There she drifted in and out of sleep. By the time she caught wind of Kurel’s return home. It was too late. 

In the living room, Kurel had leveled a pistol at Silthas-- who had fallen asleep on the couch and gone undisturbed until the Admiral’s return.

"I explained this all to Eilithe already..."  Silthas paused, like he was hoping she'd come out of the shadows and help him, only to resume a moment later. "... I'm the son of Shadeala Moonsong. She... And my grandmother Morinthe, tricked me, manipulated me, forced me... Into coming here. I bear the scars of their abuse, of their attempt to mold me."

 Another long pause and he reached beneath the couch, slowly, quietly, to grab a box of Kul Tiran cigars and a bottle of fine bourbon. At some point he stashed a cutter and glasses, which he now tried setting on the coffee table, so he could open the bourbon and pour. "Want a drink? A smoke?"

Oh you sweet, foolish boy. 

"Kurel," Eilithe's voice came from the hall. She had come all the way down the hall, without a sound. Wrapped up in a black silk robe, her hands at her side. There were a dozen things she might've said, knowing that one of them might soothe him, while another might give him whatever he needed to pull the trigger.

"Remember Vol'Dun. When you almost stabbed me. It doesn't count if I'm not in control'.” She recited his own words when he'd almost ran her through while under Morinthe's strings.

When the gun lowered, Eilithe was filled falsely with a sense of security. "Pick up the box an' the bottle. Come with me,” Kurel commanded and turned for the door. Silthas obeyed.

She was just about to call her daughter from the shadows, knowing the girl was spying. It happened too fast. 

Kurel lifted his gun just enough to aim at Silthas’ thigh. The trigger pulled, the bang came loud. The door shut in the boy’s face. Upstairs, Karkah came barreling out of her room, bow drawn. Down the opposite hall Malik screamed, frightened. But none were louder than Eilonwy, who shimmered with arcane out of invisibility long enough to scream in horror with such force that the window rattled. In Tanari, she screamed, “Father, no! Stop! He is good! I saw him! He is good!” In a second, she was gone-- teleported out and into the world after the boy. 

"Well, surfal, at least you didn't shoot him in the head, right?" She stalked for the door. Not with her usual temper. It was more concern and a surprising amount of understanding. If Kurel had meant to kill the boy, he would have. She attempted to push by him and straight for the door to go out it. "Karkah, please go sit with your brother until Lady Mirin gets here. Everything is fine." “No’ yet.” 

Everything wasn’t fine. She stopped to mutter to Kurel, in bubbling rage, “I would think, that you of all people, would understand what it is like to bare the mark of your father. And if not for mercy-- then think of this as an opportunity. He knows where his mother is. How many men she has. What resources she has. It took balls and stupidity to tell you, stop to think what the fuck he stood to gain from telling you all that. A bullet. Apparently."

Their exchange was one of epic, petty proportion. Him storming out onto the porch to scream at her, her flinging a flower pot in his general direction. 

When she found Eilonwy and Silthas, she was still in the shadows-- watching as her daughter summoned thick ice around Silthas to protect him from her father’s lackeys. The girl, bold and brave, stood with her fists up against Kurel’s explosives expert. “Just leave us alone!” She screamed. 

For only a sturdy bandage meant for the boy, Perry backed off.

Eilonwy lowered her arms and was about to drop the barrier when she heard footsteps. When she saw it was Eilithe, still the girl kept her fists up. "Mai, leave us alone! He didn't do anything."

How important he must be to her, that she would raise her hands against her mother. "Drop the dome, Eilonwy. He needs to see a doctor. If you must, you can stay with him."  "Will I be safe there?" Silthas asked as Eilonwy melted the ice from around him.

In her ear, Kurel argued with her and she could tell by the proximity of the half of her soul residing inside if him. Each pushed it further, cutting deeper and deeper until Eilithe was the first to say something she would come to regret:  Go home, Kurel. Go home. Get a drink and a cigar and I will stay the fuck out of your way. I should have just let you leave again for another eight months and handled it like I always do when you decide there's nothing here for you.

"As long as I am alive, you have my word that I will put myself between you and harms way." There were tears in forming in her eyes, which likely were directly correlated to whatever Kurel was seething into her ear. "Come on, we have to move." 

After Silthas was treated and almost to sleep, Eilithe left to return home to a powder keg. And so, with a cigarette she awaited Kurel’s fury on the balcony which faced the harbor. "Helpin' the enemy now? Been ou' there a long while, did you dig ou' his bullet an' cauterize the hole? Then tuck'em in with a kiss on the head-- then leave my daughter ou' there with'em?" His head shifted as though barely affording a glance back over his shoulder towards her. He was paranoid as he was suspicious.  Wrapped in an anger that for the moment was bundled and controlled. "You shoul' know better." He sneered.  "Our daughter wouldn't leave that boys side if I demanded it. She is angry at both of us. I won't make her hate us." Eilithe stood firm on that for as long as it took for her to inhale on a joint. "They are not alone and yes. I instructed that he be mended." 

So then, she doubled down.

"No reason. No explanation. Nothing I say will be good enough for you right now. I could explain, in detail, how I know Morinthe is no longer with him. I could explain that I didn't just leave the children to chance. None of it will suffice, so I won't waste your time." Eilithe swallowed, her throat tense. 

"I wrote you. Because I need you here and I had hoped, by now, you were starting to need me too." Hurt and guilt showed only in that sentence, so she quickly covered it with another. "The more pressing matter is that Morinthe's soul is in two more pieces. They are far from here, but when Shadeala finds that her son is converted and that her plot is foiled? What do you think will happen?" "Wha' will happen. She will come righ' here. An' I'll shoo' her firs' an' then him second-- You shoul' have pu' him on a fuckin' boat an' sen' him FAR from this fuckin' place. Bu' instea', you're entertainin' this idiocy-- why? Because Eilonwy feels somethin' for him an' you don't want to break her hear'?" He turned, to face her. Arms crossing as he leaned his hip back against the guard rail. "Cause you can't stop yourself from takin' in ever stray an' straggler?”

"Where are they." It was not a request.

“You..said that, when you left. Gone until you could find a reason to come back. I shouldn't have said what I said." And that was as close as she got to admitting guilt.

Eilithe shook her head, "She will come here. Regardless. Not even herself. She will send lackeys and she will expend every resource. Because we took everything from her. And no, I can't bring myself to kill another child based solely on the blood in their veins. I cannot sentence him to death by my hand, yours, or by shipping him off. He is an asset, not a burden."

She shook her head, "Why? So you can go finish it? So you can get yourself barred from the home we built together?"

"Oh we didn't take everythin'-- Bu' now we have. Thanks to you. I can agree he's an asse'--- an' asse' to be used. Bait, to be used. A fuckin' carrot to dangle. One ain't gotta sentence him, jus' have to pu' him on a ship an' sail a fuckin' long ways ou' from here. An' a' the very leas' if Shadeala was goin' to be comin' here regardless, she'd be comin' for us." He gestured angrily between himself and her.

"Boy ain't even a fuckin' child-- He's practically grown, Eilithe! You talk like he can barely fen' for himself. An' if gettin' barred from this place is wha' it costs to keep you an' my children safe, then yes."

"He was a tool." Eilithe said, in calm tone that did not match the way that she shot up from her seat, clutching his shirt in her right hand. "He means nothing to her, less than nothing now that he failed." She took to stomps in his direction, but stopped herself in a good-old-fashioned Darnassian stand-off. "He is powerful and could help us. He can protect her too. She threatened to take Eilonwy many years ago now, Kurel. That was always a horrifying possibility. So put one more thing between our daughter and a woman that's willing to send a child to his death in order to bring me pain."

It was the last part that made her close the gap between them, two freezing hands place on his rough cheeks. "I need you,so please.. remember that day in the wheel when you told me you loved me and needed me too. Don't. Do this. Hate him. Distrust him. Shun him. If that it was you must do. But please. Don't do this."

Whatever went through his head, whatever paranoid scheme, he did not speak. Because if anything, he understood why she couldn’t bring herself to harm a child. "If he so much as missteps or if I think he missteps in my presence, I will aim higher an' I won't miss." He threatened. "An' wherever you have hidden them away-- Eilonwy is no' stayin'. She is to come home. Now or I will wake every dockhan' across this islan' an' have them join hands to comb this place until she is foun'. An' dragged back here. Willin' or not. She can hate me for i'. She is not grown an' she is no' ye' free of this house an' my command."

"She doesn't hate you. She won't. You are hard to hate. And she loves you--idolizes you." Shadows sucked Eilithe away from him and the distinct feeling of her soul moving away and into the night.

Eilonwy did return home that night, refusing to speak to either parent before she hid herself in her room to sob. After her mother had done the same, in a similar fashion, Eilonwy clutched the moon pendant on her bracelet. Until the door to her bedroom opened and her father’s footsteps fell against the wood floor.  "You will no' be alone with him. From now until I decide otherwise, when you leave this house a Warden or an operative of my choosin' will go with you. Every where. A' school. In Stormwin'. This islan'.”

"If you disobey this. I will pu' tha' boy on a ship. I will sail tha' ship to the edge of the Malestrom, where I will sink i'. With him on i'. If you think tha' you can ou'smar' me, the Wardens, or whoever I have pu' as your chaperone. An' evade them. I' will no' be they who suffer the consequence. It'll be the boy."

Eilonwy flinched, audibly at the tone that he rarely, if ever, took with her. She let out the softest of whimpers, before she balled up in the bed. The words that came out of her were pained and echoed the very same defeated tone that her mother held when all felt hopeless.

"Okay, Ah'vey," she said, just loud enough that he would hear her, before she buried her face in the pillow and bit back a spurt of silent weeping. @kurel-andiel​ @revthepunchbear​ (silthas) @deadsunharbor​

#Moonsong

[pettyelves]

the boy on fire

two months ago

His name was Silthas.  The first time she same the teenager, he was sparring with her daughter. His command of fire was fueled entirely by rage which Eilithe could feel nestled in his very soul. In opposition was her daughter, who moved with the fluidity of water catching every blow and dealing back her own. 

Eilithe should have known in that very moment that the two would be drawn to one another. Fire and water, the very same comparison that Saeris had made to her and her husband.

She was not ready for suitors to come calling on her daughter, but when the boy began sleeping on her couch, or staring just a little too long. She knew. And likewise she knew that there was nothing to stop them. And so she allowed it, with close observation. 

The first time that Eilithe noticed something strange about the stowaway, supposedly off a ship in from Nazmir, was the way that he danced. At the Van Garrett’s gala he had been allowed to attend as Eilonwy’s escort and Eilithe had taken a turn on the floor with the teen. Kaldorei no longer danced the way that he did, and so she wondered who had taught him such. 

Over the next month, she watched teenage love bloom. As terrified as she was nostalgic about it. The smile on Eilonwy’s face when she sat on the porch beside the boy talking about whatever it is kids did. By the second month, Silthas had casually sequestered himself with  Eilithe alone. 

“I’d..like your permission,” he began eventually, “to ask Eilonwy to be my girlfriend.” 

The way she saw it there were two options, tell him no and have them sneaking around-- or put aside her fears and take a chance. For all the alarm bells, there was one shining intuitive pull. There was something good in him, in spite of everything else.  “So long as you respect my daughter, you are welcome in my house.”

He had looked at her with surprise and happiness all in one, a cracked smile on his lips. While his soul might’ve read as blank, his eyes couldn’t hide joy. Joy which was so seldom found in his dark eyes. 

The night after he asked her, Eilonwy came home toying with the ends of her hair and looking about the world, doe-eyed. “Hey Mai,” she said, passing her mother on the couch. 

“I take it you said yes.” 

A flush consumed her ears, but she nodded. “Yeah..he’s real nice, mai. Even if he gets angry.” 

Eilithe gave a slow nod, “Anha zhilak yera.” 

“I love you too, mom.” 

The third time Eilithe noticed something was wrong with the boy was when the witch bottle he clutched in his hand nearly shattered. Something was pressing on him, but she couldn’t discern if it was magic or memory. And that. That was her mistake. 

“If someone is hurting you, Silthas. You can tell me and I will do everything in my power to stop you from hurting.” 

He believed her-- even if he felt hopeless. 

That night she’d subtly trapped the children’s rooms. Like the guard dog he was, Svalte lay in the shadows. Just in case. 

Eight days ago

The night air was cool in Dead Sun, and Eilithe laid on her back. Left arm draped above her head and right clutching a crisp white shirt that belonged to Kurel. An item of comfort, which she held when he’d been gone a month or longer in this case. 

She did not open her eyes when she heard the door, nor when she heard almost silent footsteps walk to her bed side, nor when she felt tears dropping down against her skin. 

Not until the knife plunged down did she rip a dagger from beneath the pillow and fling herself out of bed and against Silthas so fast that he stumbled back to the wall. 

She didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were on his shoulder, her blade at his throat, pressed tight but not enough to cut. “I cannot let you kill me, I still have things to do.” She said, like she was unperturbed by his attempt on her life. He was crying, choking with the blade still clutched in his hand. 

“I don’t think you want to do this. So drop the knife, we’ll talk, and then you have a choice. Either we figure this out-- or you pick that knife back up and you try to finish what you started.” 

The knife hit the ground and he slid down the wall, sobbing. Eilithe went with him, her arms wrapping around him. Through his weeping, he confessed, “My name... is.. Silthas Moonsong. Son of Shadeala Moonsong. Morinthe.. is my grandmother. She was in my head. She made me. I didn’t.. I don’t want to. I was.. sent here.. to kill you.” He clung on to her desperately, his whole body shaking. “I just wanted her to love me.. I just wanted to be more than a tool.”

Nothing she said could take that pain away from him. And nothing she could do now would undo what he’d just tried to do. She listened and she understood, maybe a little too easily. 

“You have a hard choice, Silthas. You can pick up that knife and try to kill me, spend the rest of your life running because they will hunt you. Or. You can choose to be different.” She thanked every god she could think of that he did not pick it up.

“Listen closely to me, Silthas. I cannot lie to my husband. So when I tell him what happened tonight. Do not argue. Agree with whatever I say. Do you understand?” 

He nodded, still coiled into her side like a child. “Okay.”

“Tomorrow we’re going to talk to Threshad and you’re going to live in his spare bedroom. You’ll have your own space. A proper bed. Close but not so close Kurel thinks I’ve adopted you. You can sleep in Threshad’s old room for tonight.” 

He didn’t fight her, getting up and trudging up the stairs. Eilithe got the baby and went to the couch, clutching Malik to her chest. It wasn’t until that very moment that the crushing wave of anxiety hit her. She didn’t sleep that night, and wouldn’t sleep the following night until she had sent a letter after Kurel. 

@revthepunchbear​ (for Silthas) @kurel-andiel​

#Moonsong #Shadowlands Leadups.

[pettyelves]

the home on fire

[the boy on fire] [the man on fire]

“Can we, mai? Pllllleease,” Eilonwy begged with big eyes. Sixteen years old, and she still had a way of getting what she wanted with her eye.  It was to be a afternoon, the children allowed to leave the schoolhouse early to go up the mountain to a favored swimming hole. Each of them had been sulking since the ban from Stormwind was given, directly following the taunt from Shadeala’s mages.  With no less that ten Wardens of Dead Sun, the children went up the mountains. Eilonwy arm-in-arm with Silthas, they were both smiling wide and laughing.

It was inside the wards. It was safe.  Eilithe was at home, reading on the porch whilst she waited for the last of the clothes on the line to dry. She had almost drifted to sleep when an ill wind hit her.  All available wardens, my location. NOW! The voice belonged to Rox’ah, an elite Sun Warden whose sole duty was the safety of Eilonwy. Eilithe vaulted the railing on her porch and hit the ground in a dead sprint, out ahead of her Svalte took shape barreling on all fours for the commotion. 

They had come out of no where.  “Protect the children!” Rox’ah bellowed, before his shield came down to block at incoming hail of fire bolts from Moonsong magi. Eilonwy was behind him and for all her bravery, she couldn’t process fast enough. More importantly, she could not bring herself to attack. Real, fleshy bodies were not a schoolyard spar.  This was real. They were real.  And they had come for her. 

The other children ran screaming, Warden’s sheltering them with shields. A stream of fire left Silthas’ hand and separated the attacker from the fleeing children. Something in seeing him defend her home snapped her out of it. Fight. You have to fight.  Just when she looked like she might start to defend herself, a fist came to her temple. Eilonwy’s vision blurred and she staggered. The rogue wrapped his arms around her and pressed a gem to her head. The magic within her bled out and though she tried to summon fire, teleport, freeze something. It was too late.

She thrashed around, screaming and throwing elbows. “No! NO! NO!” She shrieked right in her captor’s ear, punching him across the face hard, before another grabbed her arms. 

Fireballs came raining in both directions, from the enemy and from Silthas in return fire. Rox’Ah cut down  one of the men dragging Eilonwy, and screamed at her in Darnassian to run.

"No! NO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!" Eilonwy's voice was loud and shrill through the trees. They dragged her toward a portal which opened just outside the wards. 

As the pursuing party found their way into the fighting, they would arrive just in time to spear go through Rox'ah's stomach and out his back. "Come now," An enemy magus  called calmly summoning a portal.

She was reaching for her mother, for Silthas, as they lackeys dragged her into the portal behind the magus.

Eilithe screamed at Svalte in Zandali and he leapt at the captors, intending to go right through the portal with them. In tandem, Eilithe skidded to a halt and inhaled hard and fast to let out a unnatural shriek that would echo through the jungle and well into the Astral Rise. But it was too late. Svalte was met with the icy chill of the portal vanishing in thin air, his body rolling through the dirt.  Eilithe's scream served as nothing more that a preface to keening in the dirt.

The jungle was burning around her, but Eilithe could not bring herself to rise from the dirt. Not even as people panicked around her to put out the fires. In her ear, something whispered, its voice deep and echoing.

You did this, You kept the boy. You made a choice.

Eilithe wretched on the ground, bid herself to stand, but she could not. The shadow moved comforting over her back.  Give in Let us out The voices built and built until it Eilithe lifted up. Between Mavas and Endessa, they magi’s portal was tracked. She was certain that this was a trap and she was willing to step into it if it meant Eilonwy would be home. 

“Arbiter,” Mavas said, kneeling in front of her. Darkness shifted in her aura, a hand shot to Mavas’ shirt and she whispered. Protect the boy. Eilithe’s body raised to its feet, she was vacant from it. “Prepare The Vengeance and two escorts.”

In less than an hour, four ships were leaving the harbor Eilithe and Kurel’s among them. Beyond them sailed the small armada that was the Tel’Nar. She would raze everything between her and Eilonwy.  Anything to get her daughter back. @kurel-andiel​ @revthepunchbear​ @elsylynneverbright​ @deadsunharbor​ @velerodra-valesinger​ 

#on fire

[pettyelves]

Vacationing

one week ago

Letters were inefficient when in the grand scheme of things, Eilithe and Kurel couldn’t ever really get away from one another’s thoughts. 

Kurel,          You're probably thinking 'why the fuck didn't she just call to me on the seal?', and well-- it's because I know you're in the middle of one of your moments. One of those times where you're feeling restless with no direction and you need space. And I've always given it to you until I couldn't anymore. Sending a letter's going to give you just a little more time to find that An'Diel motivation I feel in love with. You said you'd come back once you found a direction, or once something was happening that called you back. This is me, asking you, to come back. The short version is: Shadeala Moonsong is alive, Morinthe-- the string bitch, is..existing out of her body, and came very close to killing me as I slept. I believe she is making plans to strike again. I will explain everything when you come home. Our children are safe. And if you come home and there is a boy sleeping on the couch-- don't shoot him. -E

Loren chewed his food slowly and slow-blinked into his plate as Eilithe proposed her plan. “Given the...state of things, are you certain you should be leaving? By the shadows, Eilithe you’re still nursing aren’t you?” 

“Loren, the next time you venture to talk about the state of my tits I’m going to put the business end of my dagger squarely in your asshole.” 

He paused his bite and fluttered his eyes before taking it. “I will take that as a ‘yes, I’m sure’ then, my lady.”

Eilithe smirked at that, “You’ll have to stay at the Gate.”

“Oh~and what of ..the other?” He asked, gesturing at thin air. 

“Decommissioned...for now. Can’t Captain the ship and another body at once.” 

“And if you are to..boldly take back up Kaz’aka’s mask, then what shall I do with Vera Bloodfury?” Loren asked, another slow bite taken. 

“Leave her to run around. Ensure she does not slip away on a ship. Though I suspect she knows her debt to us is far from paid.”  Loren hummed and gave a nod,” I will see it done, my Lady. But..do come back and in a timely manner. Lord An’Diel will not be as gentle with me as his wife. And with that boy hanging about, I’m sure he’ll be..in a mood.” 

Eilithe pinched at his cheek the way that a patronizing elder sibling might. “Awwh, afraid of an An’Diel-sized temper tantrum, Loren?” 

“Oh yes, very. I like my head and balls firmly attached.” 

She snorted and gave a nod. “Ya’til-anath, kah’vin.” 

“Ya’til-anath, Shan’min.”

“Oh and while I’m gone,” she said, stopping in the doorway, “Ensure that boy doesn’t slip away too far with my daughter.” 

As usual when she left, she told few she was leaving and none where she was going. Two days at sea toward Bones Strand chasing rumors. Or rather one very specific rumor.

When she docked in the Strand, she was Eilithe but by the time she was off the ship and sliding the metal mask over her face, the cowl over her head-- she was Kaz’aka. Kurel had once chided her for using a pseudonym, but the last thing she needed was rumors surfacing that the Arbiter of Dead Sun was using unconventional methods. 

Mouse was a well known informant, one that got kicked off every ship he’d ever worked on and survived being thrown to sea not once, not twice, but a total of five times. He considered himself a businessman of principles. For the right price he’d rat on most anyone. 

Eilithe used coin.  Kaz was a bit more creative. 

SMACK. The thick cut of wood went hard upside Mouse’s cheek, sending a single tooth and a whole lot of blood sputtering out. Eilithe tossed the plank to the ground and dusted her gloved hands. 

“Okay, now. I have asked you nicely and not so nicely. Third time’s a charm. Where. Did they take. Veska. Trollish woman, red hard, dark skin, scar across her nose.”  Mouse spit on the floor and rolled his head back, slouched in the chair. “I tol’ you. I don’ know shit. An’ since you been so rude..” 

Eilithe’s fist collided with Mouse’s nose and smashed it almost flat to his face. He choked and blinked through blacked eyes, “Oh.. THAT Veska. Yeah yeah, I remember... must of..,” he stammered, and Eilithe was already gearing up for another punch, “WAIT WAIT WAIT, they got her  south of here! Plannin’ to sell her. I know where I can mark it on...” 

Her fist came swinging at his face. “I CAN TAKE YOU RIGHT TO HER!” Mouse screamed and Eilithe’s punch stopped just shy of his jaw. She opened her hand and gave him a little pat-pat on the cheek. “Good, now hold still.” 

By night fall she was hauling Mouse aboard with a hood over his head, The Vengeance headed due south to a small cove. 

“Hello, old friend.” 

She had selected four men to infiltrate, weighing anchor just out of sight. Mouse pointed at the cove, “They prolly got her deeper in the cages. Long with maybe ten othahs.” 

Eilithe, still wearing the mantle of Kaz’aka nodded. “Alright men, tell the Captain to have the ship brought around when she hears the boom.” And with that they were on the water. 

It was a singular ship, small Brigantine whose lower deck was no doubt packed with bodies to transport. Two of her men split off to go and see to that ship, while Eilithe and her partner made inner. 

She tapped on his glove a code ‘Dispatch guard. Keys. Finding friend.’

There was naught but her shadows and her blade as she moved through the cove, slipping between guards and silencing the ones in her way. For once Mouse had told the truth. In irons, inside a crude cage Veska sat with a look not- yet defeated. 

“Hello, old friend,” Eilithe whispered through the dark, a pin already jammed into the lock. “I was thinking of hosting a reunion party, it seems one of our old problems has wandered out of its hole.” 

Veska’s smirk curled up  around her tusk. “Dat so, Kaz’aka? Here I heard rumor dat Rush’kah had retired tah greener islands.” 

“Cute,” Eilithe said as she popped the lock and opened up the cage to start on Veska’s irons. “Thing about it is, people like us always find their way back into shit, aye?” 

“Aye,” she answered, rubbing her wrists once she was free. It was about that time that the sound of cage doors swinging open  alerted the crew of captors. 

Eilithe slid Veska a blade. “You too old to to swing this or shall I find another Quartermaster?” 

Veska snorted, “You’ll know ‘m too old when I ai’t breathin’ ne’ more, Eleet.” 

A series of explosions followed by the rally of free men fighting to the entrance overwhelmed their reunion. Eilithe turned her head and rose up, offering Veska a hand. “That’ll be our cue, Ves. Let’s put that to the test.” 

With stained blades and pistols freshly fired, The Vengeance was boarded and turned due south. Once more, Kaz’aka went to slumbering and Eilithe emerged from her Cabin to stand beside Veska. 

“Let’s get home then, shal we?” Eilithe called out and the ship came to life. In a days time, they’d dock in Dead Sun. 

@revthepunchbear​ (for ‘boy’) @kurel-andiel​

[pettyelves]

between here and there

The only thing lacking in Fallback was a bath which, if this was ever to be her actual retirement would be the first thing righted. For the time being-- she had only one option-- a dirtied, over turned animal trough which she scrubbed out and dragged under the lip of the back roof. By that time, she was soaked to the bone and caked in mud from the knee down-- the weather only worsened as the sun went down.

Her audience was comprised of the cat which let herself get comfortable in the doorway, watching the elf drag the bath into place. The cleverness came in heating the bath, the water dragged from the well meant Eilithe’s bath was ice cold.But it was better than nothing.

Thunder cracked and through the valley she caught glimpse of the lightening that cut the sky. “You think it’s raining in the North, Cat?” Rough seas meant longer trips. The only answer she got was a meow.

The kitchen table became her war room, pots were her fortresses-- pans were Moonsong’s warehouses. Forks and knives were her swords and shields. With that aged bourbon in a clean glass, Eilithe walked the floor-- circling the map of Azeroth.

“We are strong in because we are many, kal’allah,” her father’s voice echoed. Eilithe moved the forks in one direction, until they were flanking a single pan. “One week....” She moved the units to the next warehouse. “Two weeks...”

“It will take too long.” “You don’t have time.” 

Feralas was never cool, but in summer the humidity was stifling. Her mother’s fist wove Eilithe’s own punch off course. With a single and quick step, Meridianna brought her leg up and snapped it against Eilithe’s midriff. Just ten, Eilithe went flying into the dirt, dripping in sweat and wheezing for air. “Get up,” Meri said in a chilled voice. “Get up and be faster. Strike hard. Strike quickly. And even alone you will not fail.” 

Eilithe began to rearrange the forks, the dissonance between her mother and father’s words. A fork was laid at each pan, representing each of her most trusted at the foot of a one of Moonsong’s warehouse. “Maybe you’re both right,” Eilithe mused.

Cripple Moonsong and hope the Void followers died with her.Optimistic, as it was unrealistic-- but with Shadeala dead, she could at least focus on things much..much bigger.

Cat the..cat jumped onto the war table and sat on her bottom. A loud meow came as though to dispute the plan-- or perhaps give her blessing. Eilithe couldn’t much call herself an animal-whisper.

Scrambling the pots and pans, Eilithe quit the room for the loft all to fall on fresh sheets. Even without Kurel beside her, she curled to one side of the bed-- hand reaching out as though she would touch the mark at the center of his chest. Lightening split the sky and she found the peace of sleep. 

“Do you remember the night we met?”

He had galactic eyes.

Eilithe’s body was heavy against the bed, her eyes peeling open on the wall across from her. Lucid dreams-- the space between the sleeping and waking worlds where Eilithe simply couldn’t step to one side or the other. 

Footsteps came up the stairs, slow a deliberate. “Do you remember the night we met?” The voice asked again.

“This isn’t real.” She reminded herself in a muffled whisper. 

“It is as real as you allow it to be-- I am as real as you allow me to be.”  “Why now?” Eilithe asked as two legs crossed her vision and a pale hand reached to brush the black hair from her cheek.

“He is almost ready. You are all nearly ready.” The figure bent down to press chilled lips against her temple. It was the sort of chill Kurel painted as the deepest sort of loneliness.  “I never stopped loving you,” he said, “Sleep, Kaz...”

. S̷͈̯͖̫̼͇̬̄̈́͑̒͋̂̚͢͝l̢̛̮̖̩̗͉͎̙̋̎̾́̎̓̈́͑͝ͅë̴̡̛̻͎̖̤̓̈̿͑̕͟ͅͅͅḙ̷̲̫̬̥͖̺̍̔̍͌̓̾͝p̴͓̰͙̰̼̰̄̿̆̌̒̿͝͝ . [ @deadsunharbor @kurel-andiel ]

#sleep

[velerodra-valesinger]

Informal Notes:  Black Sun Trade

Date Drafted:  06.17.19

Notes regarding Shadeala Moonsong & Black Sun Trade for purposes of providing those unfamiliar with the situation and players with some context.  

Pending Review and Additions of Arbiter Duskbringer and Speaker Shadowsun.   

[ @revthepunchbear, & @eilitheduskbringer - please correct anything that I may have gotten wrong and add any details that I may have forgotten.  Meant to be used as an ic summary for those who are new to the plot. ]

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Introduction:   Following an investigation of a base last night, it occurred to the author that the situation regarding Black Sun Trade and it’s owner Shadeala Moonsong required some explaining to those unfamiliar with it.   

These notes are informal and non-comprehensive.   But meant to give a general overview of the conflict and players involved.   A general reference for those present during the initial attack on the base, and those who aided in the subsequent investigation.   

These notes are accurate to the best of the author’s knowledge, though it should be acknowledged that the author does not claim to have complete nor perfect information.   However these notes should suffice to help provide some background and notable events (part I) as well as people of interest (part II).  

Finally, the author will provide further notes and thoughts in the third part of this document.   

PART I:  A CHRONOLOGICAL ACCOUNT OF SIGNIFICANT INTERACTIONS

Background:   Shadeala Moonsong is the owner of Black Sun Trade.    Initially she was believed to be an arms dealer and Captain Raylen D’earthe and Speaker No’Vindere D’aerthe attempted to meet with her to inquire about the possible purchase of munitions for his ship.   This meeting, went (in the author’s opinion) less than ‘smoothly’.

The author of this document attempted to repair strained relations, and learn more about the woman’s business.   It was discovered that the company dealt in far more than arms, but seemed to be able to acquire seemingly anything.   While the author of this document continued to try and remain on Miss Moonsong’s good side, events would transpire that would make this difficult.

Firstly, Moonsong had already began dispatching her spies to look into the business of Dead Sun Harbor.   A female Lightforged Draenei, Svetloba was identified by Speaker Reveria Shadowsun as someone known to work for Shadeala (see Part II for further details).   

An assault was made on two ships by Dead Sun forces.   The Hammer and The Anvil, both were carrying slaves.   These slaves we liberated and offered a place at Dead Sun.   The crews of the captured ships were executed en masse by the Arbiter’s will, and a formal declaration of war was made against Shadeala Moonsong and Black Sun Trade.

It was at this time the author of this summary was unable to continue to meet with Miss Moonsong directly.   After the loss of her ships, Miss Moonsong employed the use of a creature whose name is unknown (at least to the author).    She was referred to informally as ‘The Juggernaut’, an armored, mass that vaguely resembled a Kaldorei shape.  

This creature attempted to claim the lives of the author on multiple occasions.   Attempts were also made on the lives of Peter Wayland as well as Arbiter Duskbringer.   Eventually Arbiter Duskbringer brought an end to this creature.  

Miss Moonsong however, continued to create problems in other ways.   She arranged for the arrest and interrogation of many members of the Harbor on fabricated charges, and while in custody, bombs were planted within The Chariot Teahouse in old town.   Upon our release, the building was set ablaze.  

Miss Moonsong also used her personal mercenary forces in order to threaten the life of Speaker Shadowsun and her (at the time) unborn children.   She demanded her captured ships be returned.    Arbiter Duskbringer agreed to this and Speaker Shadowsun was set free.   This took place openly in the Dwarven District showing blatant disregard for the law.  

The ship exchange ended up being a bit of a firefight.   Resulting in the destruction of at least one of Miss Moonsong’s ships.   Miss Moonsong has shown a degree of reluctance to engage the forces of Dead Sun at sea since this encounter.

It came to light at some point that Miss Moonsong was working in some way with a woman called Morinthe, also known as the Subverter.   This woman is presumably a Xul who derived power from a Loa known as Mueh’Zala.    Morinthe is the creature responsible for the death of a gunsmith in Dead Sun Harbor.   This was accomplished by using some manipulative magic to gain control of the young Denner O’Brien-Shadowsun (aka ‘Den’).     

Other skirmishes have occurred between Dead Sun and Black Sun forces but I believe the above are the most noteworthy and provide the best summary of events - save for the two most recent interactions which will be discussed next. 

Recent Events:   Recently, Miss Moonsong has made an attempt to attack Dead Sun forces during a routine delivery to Southern Pandaria.  The author was not present for this, and will refrain from speaking too much on the event, other than report their were no confirmed deaths on either side.   Arbiter Duskbringer believes Miss Moonsong’s interest in Southern Pandaria is because she seeks to establish a foothold on the same island as Dead Sun Harbor and possibly launch an attack through the jungles to the west of Harbor.   The author was informed that Morinthe was part of this skirmish and subjected Speaker Shadowsun to her magic.    

Most recently Dead Sun forces found a base of Miss Moonsong.   The author does not know the specifics of how this base was found.  After an attack led by Arbiter Duskbringer led to the death of approximately 7-10 Black Sun forces.  A priest was conducting a ritual and a large corpse monster was summoned.   Some of the encampment was burned.    

Subsequently Speakers Shadowsun and D’aerthe oversaw a follow up investigation of this site.  

Evidence suggests that the base was primarily overseen by Morinthe, the Subverter and a priest whose identity is not known.   It is unclear what the purpose of the base was to the author, though it appeared to be - either the creation of an entity - or the bondage of some entity.  

The nature of this entity is - not - entirely clear at this time.   However, it was not overtly hostile.   Save towards Speaker Shadowsun’s magics, which it seemed to respond adversely to.   

The method of bondage appears to have been three orbs, each rested in a statue of a woman that required placement in a pyramid shaped object.    It is assumed that this was some form a prison.    The entity claimed that its ‘sisters’ are also in captivity.    The author is not sure how many sisters the entity may have nor where they would be imprisoned nor for what purpose.   

Further clarity on this situation will hopefully be provided, after examination of the orbs and other items collected.   

PART II:  PEOPLE OF INTEREST

Shadeala Moonsong:   As previously stated Miss Moonsong is the owner of Black Sun Trade.   The company deals in small and large arms, illicit substances, restricted imports, and slaves.   

Miss Moonsong’s reach is vast, though just how vast her reach is - has yet to be determined.   Her wealth seems nearly endless.  

She has managed to operate blatantly in Stormwind and has influence over city officials.   

Her forces consist of mercenaries, company employees, and a sizable naval fleet.   Her fleet consists of somewhere between 12-14 ships.   Despite her sizable fleet, she has not shown an interest in engaging in naval combat.    

It is believed Miss Moonsong has many properties and warehouses scattered across Azeroth.   Though we have little information on these properties and strongholds.    

Miss Moonsong has shown an interest in collecting relics, for reasons that are not entirely clear.  However it is believed she may intend to weaponize them.   Dead Sun forces claimed the Eye of Mueh’Zala, which she had briefly possessed.    

Miss Moonsong’s intentions are not entirely clear.  She has had multiple chances to kill high value targets and chosen not to do so.   This suggests she is merely amusing herself by meddling with Dead Sun Harbor.   Possibly.   

It was believed she was constructing a sizable weapon designed to get around the defensive of Dead Sun Harbor, however it is unclear if she has abandoned this project.   Current activity suggests a shift of focus towards a possible assault on the Harbor from the jungles to the West.  

It is believed by the Arbiter that Miss Moonsong has eyes in the Harbor and is likely keeping an eye on our movements.  

Svetloba:   A Lightforged Soul Priestess who is in the employ of Miss Moonsong.   

It should be noted that the Draenei approached Arbiter Duskbringer and made a series of claims.   These claims should be taken with a grain of salt.

She claims that she is forced to work for Miss Moonsong, as the souls of her husband and children will be tormented if she does not do as she is told.   

She further seemed to imply that these souls were not in the hands of Miss Moonsong but in the hands of someone she considered even more cruel and sadistic, Lady Anathemia Quel'Vuran.

Svetloba seemed to imply that Lady Quel’Vuran and Miss Moonsong worked together at one point, but would not clarify the status of their connection.   

Svetloba, according to her account is being coerced into doing as Miss Moonsong’s bidding.   Be it using by using her talents as a Soul Priestess, to simple spying and thuggery.  

The author would like to go on record as stating she does not trust a word from the Lightforged’s mouth and believes her to be the worst of Miss Moonsong’s associates.  Though the author confesses to possessing some personal biases that may affect her judgement in this assessment.  

Morinthe, the Subverter:   While Morinthe is certainly working with Miss Moonsong, the exact nature of their connection is somewhat obscure.

The first time The Subverter took action against the Harbor directly was when she used her magic to manipulate young Den (Speaker Shadowsun’s assistant and adopted son) into murdering Gunthir, the Harbor’s former, conveniently-named, gunsmith.   Her magic is notable by string like energies that seem to burrow into a host.    The exact nature of the magic is not known.  

Based on the evidence at the scene, Arbiter Duskbringer seemed to believe she was being mocked in some way.    The Subverter is believed to be a Xul who derived her power from a Loa called Mueh’Zala, also called the Night Father.   

It should be noted that this occurred after Dead Sun Forces claimed a relic known as the Eye of Mueh’Zala from a void-corrupted base that belonged to Miss Moonsong.   

The Subverter’s presence was later encountered during an expedition to Vol’dun.   Minions of hers seemed to have been trying to interfere with our objective.   Her string like magic was observed by the author directly.   Though it remains mysterious.    

Recently - the Subverter appeared during the delivery attempt.    Though the author was not present and thus cannot say much about her involvement.    And even more recently the Subverter seemed to play a large role in overseeing the activities taking place at the encampment Dead Sun forces recently raided and investigated.   

While it appears she is working closely with Miss Moonsong, it is unclear if she is working for or with Miss Moonsong.   It is also unclear if Miss Moonsong herself is connected to Mueh’Zala in some way.   It is uncertain how she came to possess the relic that is bears his name.  

Lady Amanetha Quel’Vuran:   This creature seemingly went from nobility to nothing overnight.

She hasn’t been directly involved in anything and the only reason she is listened here is due to the word of Svetloba.   

Speaker Shadowsun has confirmed that she did at one time work with Moonsong in some capacity.   

Svetloba seemed to imply there was perhaps a falling out.   But only in vague terms.   No one has directly interacted with the Lady, nor has she made her presence felt.   Both Speaker Shadowsun and Svetloba seem to believe she is crueler and more sadistic than Miss Moonsong.   She is reportedly able to trap and torment souls (as claimed by Svetloba).    But little else is known about her, now have any leads presented themselves regarding how to find out more about the Lady.  

PART III:   SELECT THOUGHTS OF THE AUTHOR

The exact nature of Miss Moonsong’s relationships with Morinthe, and Lady Quel’Vuran remain - fuzzy.   But unless evidence suggests they are not coordinating with one another it is to be assumed they are.  

All people of interest are dangerous and should be approached with caution if encountered.

It is unclear what Miss Moonsong’s current objective is; but Arbiter Duskbringer believes her focus is to get a foothold on the same island as Dead Sun Harbor and possibly launch an attack via the jungle to the west. 

The investigation of the encampment last night has led to more questions than answers.   An entity was being contained there.   Reasons are not known.   It claims to have sisters which are also being held as prisoners.   

It was unclear what to make of this at this time.   

These notes are incomplete and only based upon the author’s recollections of events and thoughts.  

If any inaccuracies are present, please amend the document as needed.   If important details appear absent, please amend the document as needed.   

The author will attempt to keep this document as up to date as possible as to better be able to explain the situation with the Black Sun Trade so that they can be brought up to speed as quickly as possible.   

Notes Compiled by,

Velerodra Valesinger

06.17.19 Minor Revision:   It has been pointed out to the author by the keen eyed and ever-insightful Reveria Shadowsun that the proper name of the company in question Black Sun Trade, not Black Sun Shipping...   Changes have been to correct this.

#summary of things #dead sun harbor #so many possible misspelled names #( holy fuck - I actually wrote a thing! )

[pettyelves]

a message to our oppressors

It rang across every district in Dead Sun;

"Arbiter to give address to harbor citizens,  Southern cliffs at high noon,  slavers to be put to death!"

Following the encounter with Shadeala’s Juggernaut Mage, Eilithe came away with wounds that were minor- all except the one that had been delivered to her ego. 

But Velerodra.  But Peter. 

In twenty four hours, Moonsong had nearly killed two of her people, Velerodra, almost twice. Her talk with Velerodra had left her vulnerable, but it had left her more protective of the strange elf-- of all of her people than ever. And now. Now she was awake. Now she was angry. 

Kurel wasn’t coming back-- the twisting life inside of her wasn’t going away. But she still had things to do. 

The only thing missing from her ensemble was a crown- which she wore in metaphor in the way she left her room. Down the hall, Eilonwy and Karkah were being prepared as they too would bear witness to this day. 

“Min’da..” Eilonwy said, staring up at her. “Is..is it going to be bad?”

Eilithe turned her gaze to her youngest daughter, and put her hand on her shoulder. “Yes. People are going to die today-- but my daughter, you must remember. What is our duty?” 

The girl looked down. “Strike down...”

“Our oppressors. We must always strike down those would would shackle us.”

She left then- the girls would not join her on the overlook. 

[mild gore ahead]

Twenty Enforcer Elites in regalia gather up that southern overlook, with Eilithe, then Reveria, then Velerodra, then Peter. The armor was simple, but it was the massive golden shields with rising sun's decorating the front. Each man and woman had a massive spear and stood shoulder to shoulder.

The people were flocking in, given leave for the hour from their work. It was well known and widely celebrated, the fate of slavers within the harbor. Many of the faces of those gathered had particular investment in the subject as they too had risen from shackles or been liberated by the very people that stood at the overlook now. There were whispers among the residents- even travelers who frequented the harbor or held morbid curiosity to the inner workings of the island. But when Eilithe spoke, those whispers died down.

 "People of Dead Sun!" Her voice rang, as though it was magically altered to ring out across the crowd, "We gather today not only to witness the ramifications of oppression- but to unite. Unite against the menace, Shadeala Moonsong. An attacker of our kin! A snake in our garden. A seller of man and woman!" 

 Ugly jeers came from the crowd, visceral roars that called for Moonsong's head. "We have stood between wars, because we are not Black and Red. We are not blue and gold. We are free men!" She shouted, pausing for the roar of the crowd. As though timed, twenty more shield-bearers parted the crowd escorting the slavers detained from Shadeala's fleet, all bound. There were thirty or so altogether.

The group of slavers where lead behind Eilithe and the others- towards the southern cliffs. These were a particularly steep pitch- jagged rocks below and an endless stretch of sea beyond that. There was no surviving that drop. 

 "Look upon the men and women in chains today-- responsible for the capture and torture and intent to sell over two hundred lives, and for how many more over their pathetic lives? Not all of those two hundred slaves stand among you as free men, some died fighting their masters-- but all will see justice today!" A roar of all sorts, from humans, from orcs, trolls and elves rang out. Eilithe barked a command, "Shields!" All forty Enforcers stacked shoulder to shoulder in a line. "Spears!" 

"A message to all who would stand with Shadeala Moonsong, To ANY who would oppress us. We kneel to no one and we will cut down all who would put us in shackles." She dropped her hand and a commanding shout came from one of the Enforcers and the shield wall moved forward.  

The first man to fall dragged the second along with him, clawing at the second’s back like if he caught hold of his partner in crime it would save him from plummeting off the cliff. Shrieks ripped the air with each of the thirty bodies that sailed off the cliffs and splattered into broken bones and mist on the rocks before they were washed away to the sea. Those that clung to the cliffs for their lives were helped down with the jab of a spear- into eyes- hands, anything the spear bearers could stab at. 

Dead Sun rejoiced that afternoon, dancing on the beaches and singing their songs over ale in the taverns. And for a moment, still standing on the overlook, Eilithe shut her eyes, breathing it all in.

And for that moment she was at peace. 

@velerodra-valesinger @kurel-andiel @revthepunchbear @raylendaerthe @deadsunharbor @cleansedbymoonlight @theshalthera

#strike down your oppressors

[velerodra-valesinger]

A Twist of the Mists

It wasn’t until the tips of her assailant’s blades her pressed to her stomach that she was able to ascertain the reason she was being assailed.

Two ships.

Rev had mentioned that Black Sun had two ships that Devestelin and La’rassa had found docked with some slavers.

Vel wasn’t aware that they’d been captured or destroyed until the moment the knight explained the debt she had been sent to collect.

As the swords plunged into her body, her emerald hues eye seemed to smolder. She didn’t have time to process thoughts, emotion and instinct took over.

Very rarely was Vel a vindictive or vengeful creature.

Very rarely did her heart burn with a desire to destroy someone.

But in that moment, she felt nothing but contempt for Shadeala Moonsong.

Vel had been the one person from Dead Sun willing to seek her out. Vel had paid her. Vel had sent her thank you notes which went ignored and even offered a date.

And yet Shadeala choose to send her knight after Vel.

Ray and No’vi has both been in the very same bar. Why wouldn’t she send her knight after one of the creatures that had expressed their distaste for Miss Moonsong rather openly? Why not send her knight after the head of Dead Sun’s fleet?

Vel didn’t know the answers to these questions. Though in that moment - she determined there was only one answer - that Shadeala considered Vel to be the easiest target.

And that is what caused that emerald eye of hers to smolder.

As the blades sank into her body, Vel’s thoughts folded in upon themselves. Each ribbon of mist that spiraled upwards from her form was a fragment of herself.

Whenever Vel turned her thoughts in search for herself, she never really found a true core.

She was a creature whose existence had been defined by an ever shifting sense of self, being reshaped and a redefined when it was required.

So when she turned to focus on inward - to find some essential part of who or what ‘Vel’ was, she always found the same thing: mist.

As a monk, she’d been trained to understand the connection between her mind, body and spirit. When she focused on that nebulous sense of ‘Vel’, her body reflected what she found, and so when the swords sank into her stomach - the monkette’s physical form faded into the same mists that she found within her mind. And those mists drifted up and dissolved, were caught on the breeze that rolled in from the coast of Stormwind.

There was always a risk in allowing herself to unravel. Vel was far from a stable creature, and in order to pull herself back together, she needed all the loosened threads to harmonize.

There had been times in the past she’d found herself too divided to be brought back together. There had been times she had been stuck in a state of semi-existence. Or existing in a state of tug-of-war between two warring factions of her own mind, both trying to will themselves back into existence.

Despite the risks, her ability to fade from existence, was useful. The complications that could arise had always been resolved given enough time. And it was what afforded Vel the confidence to meet with someone in an isolated location by the docks in the first place.

On this particular occasion, the process of reforming herself wasn't complicated. Every little thread of herself began to coalesce around that moment her emerald eye had been set ablaze, that moment where years of repressed resentment, anger and hatred had burst free - and focused on Shadeala.

Those ribbons of mist that had been sent rolling on the winds began to coil around one another, reaching out and growing denser. Like miniature pale jade storm clouds forming above the sea.

She willed herself back into being outside the Teahouse in Stormwind. The wound in her stomach still existed, through the mists worked to accelerate her recovery drastically. Ever stubborn, Vel was not one to just wait for the mists to restore her. She staggered into Teahouse and did a half-assed job of stitching herself up and wrapping bandages around her abdomen.

That emerald hued eye still smoldered, but reason was quick to return to Vel’s mind. Vel slumped into a chair.

Vel often said she wasn’t one to hold grudges. And she wasn’t. But there were times she focused years of repressed anger and resentment on someone who made the error of underestimating her. Shadeala had made this error.

Eilithe wanted her dead.

Vel had no issue with this, though, a rarely seen sadistic streak had been awoken in her. Vel wanted to destroy the company that Shadeala had built. To see all that any reason she had to be so proud and arrogant taken from her in an instant. Without her ships, weapons, and resources, all she had was - a few henchmen who may or may not have served her willingly. She wanted Shadeala dead too, but only after her world was falling apart.

—————————————

Her voice, seemed more determined and focused than it had in a very long time.

It was focused directly to Eilithe’s seal. Her words were simple. “Eilithe. We need to talk about Miss Moonsong.”

Eilithe had probably never heard Vel’s words convey quite so much by saying so little. Her tone was a sort of low controlled, vindictiveness, concise and to the the point.

Mentions: @devastelin-ravensorrow, @theshalthera (Rassa), @revthepunchbear, @raylendaerthe, @eilitheduskbringer

#Finally an actual post! #Velstuff #Vel doesnt hold grudges #(except when she does)

[pettyelves]

List for me 5 things your character likes. 4 things she dislikes. 3 things or goals she desires. 2 things that make you love them. And 1 way to start an Rp With you.

Five Likes→ Friends  @velerodra-valesinger @revthepunchbear→ Her children and most anyone else’s→ Kurel @kurel-andiel→ Fairy tales and Poetry→ Bourbon and Cigarettes

Four Dislikes→ Kurel→ Being wrong→ The Void, in the scope of it being unchecked.→ Incessant talking Three Goals→ Open the gateway beneath the Tidefell Estate @blackholmleague→ Find long term happiness, or at the very least a way not to be so damn emotionally unstable.→ Figure out the way the Golden Orb works and use it to kill Shadeala Moonsong and maybe even lift the Blackholm curse. 

Two Thing I Love About E→ She is loyal to a fault, she keeps her word unless there is something that absolutely prevents it. →She survives, she endures. Even when she is beaten emotionally or physically, she rises.

One way to start RP with me is to visit the harbor or ask about the harbor. I have a standing permission that people may associate her with the harbor, but this isn’t just for people looking to get hired. Tourists, allies, or the generally curious are welcome to ask her about it.

Thank you @latildarommel!

[pettyelves]

Name 5 things that bring your character joy. Now name things that do not bring them joy. Finally, name 3 goals they wanna attain and how they plan to do so.

THAT BRING JOY

Eilonwy, KarKah, and @xavier-sunshadow

 Friends, particularly @revthepunchbear @velerodra-valesinger and @raylendaerthe

 @kurel-andiel

Baths

Vices

THAT BRING SORROW

@kurel-andiel

Friends

The fucking Void

Over consumption

Life in general, lately. 

GOALS

1.Kill Shadeala Moonsong by very carefully destroying everything she’s ever built, owned, or loved.

2. Complete the Golden Orb, with the help of @deadsunharbor and @blackholmleague

3. Eradicate the cultist’s that attempted to raise and control Lord Feynriel ( @raylendaerthe ‘s guy) and then send him back to the other side. How? She doesn’t know yet. 

thanks for the ask @latildarommel

[revthepunchbear]

Name 5 things that bring your character joy. Now name things that do not bring them joy. Finally, name 3 goals they wanna attain and how they plan to do so.

Things that bring joy: 

1. The thought of meeting her babies when the time comes! 2. Friends - namely @eilitheduskbringer and @velerodra-valesinger.3. Romance, or really, the thought of finding romance since she’s without currently.4. A nice rare steak. 5. Seeing Dead Sun Harbor prosper

Things that bring sorrow: 

1. Seeing her friends hurt or wounded - emotionally or physically. 2. Threats to her babies. 3. Enemies like Shadeala Moonsong4. Rude people. 5. Lack of romance. Goals for the future: 

1. Bring her babies into the world alive and well and be the best mother possible. 2. Fulfill her directive from Elune or really... Continue to do so. 3. Continue to learn and grow in her voodoo training. Thanks for the ask @latildarommel! 

[velerodra-valesinger]

A ‘Thank You’ Gift

Reveria’s house had gotten crowded lately. Vel still cooked in the morning but she didn’t linger in the kitchen or living room long.

When she first moved in she’d had an entire floor to herself, now she had a room. When she’d first moved in she had planned to have a piano in the living room. But the thought of others listening to her, made the idea off putting. She was rather shy about letting others know about her hobbies, even more shy about letting people hear. Any instruments she had in her room were now kept in cases and tucked into her closet or under her bed.

Vel usually didn’t spend too long at home. But on this particular morning she sat at a desk in her room with a crate resting beside her. She stared down at an overpriced, fine piece of parchment. Vel didn’t even know why she was sending this gift.

Shadeala Moonsong,

Just a thank you and an apology gift. I was skeptical of your ability to deliver. You’ve proven me wrong. And for that I am glad. I do hope we can continue to do business with one another in the future.

Of course, I suppose, I’d be leaving out some of the truth were I not to mention that I suppose this is something of my attempt to earn a bit of your time. Don’t misunderstand, I know you’ve said many have tried to earn a place in your bed, that’s not what I seek. I just hope to earn a bit of your time. I don’t really date, but if you are agreeable to the idea, I would like to schedule a meeting.

Sincerely,

Velerodra Valesinger

Vel folded the parchment neatly and carefully and placed it in an envelope sealed with jade wax and a serpent emblem. She placed it on the crate, which contained a rather expensive bottle of cognac. And she just stared at it for a while. She was reluctant to send it.

She could hear that voice nagging her. Taunting her. Mocking her. As she sat in her chair, she peered over her shoulder and she could’ve sworn she saw the redhead standing there. So vivid. So clear. But she knew Ava was not there, and the voice that resembled her estranged mother belonged to her own mind.

It didn’t make it feel any less real.

“Do you really think this one will be able to accept you, let alone even like you?” The phantom coyly purred, and intangible hand reached out brush Vel’s cheek.

“No. I am not certain anyone can accept me, not all of me…. I understand what you meant now. When you said there are no love stories between your kind and mortals…”. Vel spoke out loud to her illusionary demon. But softly, and her eyes welled up as she stared at the vague image she has conjured in her mind.

Ava ran her fingers through Vel’s blue locks, just as she often had. “A shame you didn’t learn faster my little serpent. I had hoped you would learn from my mistakes.” Vel shifted in her chair, trying to lift her head, trying to feel Ava’s hand in her hair, but it didn’t matter how close she got, there was no one in the room except Vel. There was no one’s hand to comfort her. Not really.

“I will be less myself…”. Vel said.

“You can’t help it my little serpent, you can hide yourself for a while, but not forever. Eventually you’ll let just enough of yourself show. And no one, not even me, will ever be able to love you once they get that glimpse.”

The words came sharp and cut like knives. A reminder that even a demon couldn’t deal with being bound to Vel. That her own creator had cast her away, unable to love what she’d created.

Of course, that may not have been the case in reality. But in this moment reality didn’t matter, Vel’s mind was playing with her. Vel glanced down, and tears began to run down her cheeks. A panicked hand reached for a locked drawer of her desk. She reached for the bear totem Rev had given her and she clenched it tightly.

Rev said she’d always protect her, but somethings, weren’t easy to stand in front of. Sometimes things cut too deep. There was no protection from her own thoughts warping and turning on her. There was no protection from feeling like she didn’t belong. There was no protection from feeling like she was too corrupted to be loved. Still she squeezed the bear hard and while part of her hoped Rev would knock on her door, most of her just wanted these feelings to pass. And seeing Rev would only cause her to dwell on them even more.

The image of Ava her imagination had conjured just stared down at Vel as the monkette tried not to break beneath the all too familiar disapproving gaze. Eventually, the voice died down. And there redhead was gone. She was in her room, alone, wooden bear in hand, eyes staring at box she wasn’t sure she should even bother sending.

She returned the totem to its place in her desk. She locked it safely away. And then with a sigh picked up the crate and left the house. She sent it. But she wasn’t really sure why anymore. And wasn’t even sure she wanted to hear back.

@revthepunchbear

#reaching out #(sort of) #vel #(doing her best) #(still her mother's daughter?) #angsty vel