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the-wolfs-raven · 9 months

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A Once and Future...

Theramore. The salty sea air drifted quietly against the demolished buildings that riddled the once vibrant port town. For years, the scarlet-haired beauty avoided stepping foot into the devastation. Long ago, she called it home, and now it was little more than a ghost. Another specter haunting her past.

Pale fingers glided over charred and crumbling stone, nothing like the shimmering white towers she remembered. This place that took her in when she was broken was now broken in turn. Another favor she could never repay.

The front towers still stood, the last remnants of the once great settlement. With some effort, she made her way to the top, violet eyes gazing over the buckling docks as she did so long ago. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the Alliance ship bobbing at the pier. She watched him leave without a word. Without even a memory of what they had once shared. That day, she stayed atop that tower until the sun began to set, the galleon disappearing into the horizon.

For some years now, she thought herself at last over him. Free of his memory and the pain it held. It was only a day ago that a simple errand for the bronze dragonflight shattered that illusion. Seeing him up close again. Hearing the familiar rumble of his voice as though he were still there. She had nightmares and delusions before, but none of them were real. This was painfully so.

The waves calmly broke upon the shore, a stark contrast to the dam of emotions that broke within her. A devastated howl erupted from her throat as her legs crumpled beneath her. For all of her successes, all of her loves, all of her joy…nothing could truly salve the hole he left in her heart. The half-elf’s forehead was pressed heavily against the cool stone as tears puddled beneath her.

She was never able to repay him for saving her. For giving her a daughter. For giving her a life. Instead, she stayed away. Hid their child from him. Robbed them of a chance to meet and know each other. How could she ever forgive herself? How was she supposed to, when she felt responsible for so much pain?

Minutes passed like hours before she finally rose to her feet. The wind picked up, whipping through her wild locks. Memories of cages and darkness intertwined with sunlight and the freedom of being in the air again. She wasn’t meant to meddle with the time-lost souls back in the Isles, but how could she just let this be? There had to be something she could do. Something to make even one life better for him. For all the resources at her disposal, she felt helpless. What good was wealth and influence if it couldn’t solve the greatest of your problems?

A sharp beeping chimed from her satchel. She silenced the communications device and moved to sit on the edge of the tower. There was no telling how long she would stay. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave just yet.

#Wow Rp #Moon Guard #tarvasha winterscale #past musings #uncertain future

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vaesha-draecon · 2 years

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My Dragon OCs as of today (4/22/22)

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katieskarlette · 2 years

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Personal update

As of yesterday I’m two weeks into Covid, and I’m getting a teensy tiny bit better every day or two, but it’s an excruciatingly slow process. I still cough a lot, my head is congested, I’m fatigued, and I get short of breath really easily.

So far I’ve missed two entire weeks of work. I don’t get sick pay, and I’m saving the three days of floating holiday I get each year for Dragonflight release week. I’m lucky enough to not be living paycheck to paycheck, but missing an entire paycheck isn’t exactly fun. The dozen or so other people from my workplace who got sick the same week as I did are all back to work, as far as I know. Lucky me drew the short straw and got it the worst.

Both my parents also got it, a.k.a. one of my worst nightmares. The good news is that they’re old enough to get the prescription drugs that help shorten the duration and lessen the severity. My dad’s basically all better now, over a week later. My mom only came down with it a few days ago so she’s still not doing great, but neither one of them has gotten as sick as I did, so that’s a silver lining.

Still, fourteen days of coughing and being weak as a kitten is damn tedious, and I can’t say that it’s done my mental health any favors.

Anyway, that’s why I’m not around as much these days. Hope all is well out in Tumblrland.

#pointless personal stuff

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gale-heart · 9 months

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Read a while with Charlotte, went for a long flight when I still couldn’t sleep afterward. The knots in my stomach haven’t loosened, nor the shame cooled from my skin, but I think I can write about it properly now.

It started when Ilvaia brushed Remington off in favor of speaking with her gathered dragonkin, and got worse when Salix’s mentor and matron vehemently declared she would accept no aid from folk who reek of undeath. So the sting of being dismissed and talked about as if they weren’t here stuck with everyone all the way back to the inn, and when Salix came to try to apologize and explain on Vivistrasza’s behalf…

I’ve gotten so used to thinking of the Fence as a place of jolly fun times and camaraderie when we’re not risking our necks; I’m afraid I began to forget the painful truth that everyone here has experienced traumas of one manner or another which left them irrevocably changed. Any one of our Forsaken individually could make my own nightmares pale in comparison to what they’ve been through, and I’m beginning to suspect even winsome Kavard is hiding deep wounds behind that unnervingly perfect grin. Little wonder then that we reacted so bitterly to those wounds being poked—and downright disastrous when that jabbed in turn against the wounds the Red Dragonflight has suffered so many times at the hands of the Scourge and the Risen. I can’t even blame Salix for his indignation—the whole thing was a shitshow and I don’t even know where to begin untangling it all or where to start trying to make it better, if it can be. I can’t shake this dread that things may be beyond repair at this point.

And amidst all this, I didn’t even try to mediate or defend anyone. I’ve fought through swarms of Blighted and made the skies tremble at my call, but when my friends started fighting with each other I became a little coward again and could only sit small and keep my head down and pray not to be drawn into someone’s ire.

I hate feeling that way again. I hate even more that I fell into taking the easy way out of dealing with this as it was happening. I just hope we can try and salvage something of this before we reach the Lost Glacier. I don’t expect Salix or Vivistrasza to accept or even believe my apology, but I’ll feel even less right about it if I don’t try. Cynically, too, they may be more receptive to it coming from another night elf like me than from one of our undead.

Or maybe they’ll get one whiff of me and know right away that I’m full of shit. I’m uncomfortably reminded once again that I can’t rightfully claim being kaldorei as common ground with Salix, even discounting the caste divide between them and the Highborne. Teldrassil was never truly my home as it was for so many others, nor did I ever seriously try to be one of them. I wasn’t even anywhere on Kalimdor when the tree burned. I was so wrapped up in my own mess that I barely spared it a thought while our people were reeling, and then I started making friends with the Horde’s rejects and outcasts. Shit, am I really in any position to try and repair the peace here?

I have to try. It has to start somewhere, and I’d rather not go into a fight for our lives with this tension unaddressed.

#character logs #ic #scales of eidolon #epsilon rp #fence macabre

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sekhisadventures · 1 year

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Fractured Order

The Dragon Isles, Approximately 20,000 years before the Dark Portal opened

Chaos, confusion, panic, fear… where once was clarity, all was disorder.

She stumbled through the smoke, tripping over the bodies of the fallen, as the elements erupted in fury around them.

From above her came an echoing roar, a voice screaming in Draconic, “SLAUGHTER THEM ALL! WIPE THE STAIN OF THE TITANS FROM THIS WORLD!”

She tried to focus, her eyes darting around, but it was as if she was seeing only fragments. She remembered a sense of connection, of order and knowing her precise place and duty.

Then there was a sense of breaking, and her thoughts fragmented. All around her the others were in much the same state. Some tried to rally, but most were near blind with panic.

She felt the roll of thunder from above, then a bolt of lightning as big around as a tree slammed down scant yards away, blasting several more of her people to pieces.

She screamed and fell back. Before she would have hardened her scales, flew to safety, and retaliated, but now her thoughts were a chaotic jumble. All training, all knowledge of combat forgotten. She was running on instinct and adrenaline just trying not to die!

And then she heard his voice. Their master, their maker, their father.

“Lord Neltharion?” she gasped out, looking behind her.

The Lord of the Black Dragonflight was on his knees, and the air around him looked wrong…

She thought she heard something on the edge of her senses, a horrible incessant whispering. Like the kind of intrusive thought one gets in the earliest hours of the morning, the sort of waking nightmare that you try and fail to banish for what feels like hours before sleep finally comes.

Then the air was rent around him, and she heard the other voice screaming in fury.

She remembered no more.

The Dragon Isles, Year 40 AFW

Deep in a cave in a place known as the Forbidden Reach, a being had lain dormant, sleeping for years and years and centuries and eons.

… and suddenly she awoke, two reptilian eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“… what happened, where's Neltharion?” gasped a feminine voice, “How… how long were we asleep?”

Several long moments later a set of clawed feet walked through the ruined cavern, a lizardlike head looking this way and that. It had taken her some effort to break free of the stasis, but… how long had she been down there?!

“Kostrasz? Mensira?! IS ANYONE THERE?!” she called out into the caves. “Can anyone hear me?!” she yelled, “Jakrostrasz!? ANYONE?!”

Her feet hit something hard, the creature kneeling down and picking up a skull, sort of halfway between humanoid and draconic not unlike her own, but so old it had fossilized. “By the Aspects... how many centuries have we been sealed in here?!” she whispered in horror, then suddenly she heard a cry.

“Someone down there? I heard a voice!” came the word from above.

“YES! I'M DOWN HERE! HELP!” she yelled back.

“The stairs to the east, they haven't caved in yet!” came the reply. “Azurathel and Cinderthresh survived! They're rallying anyone they can! Come on!” they called.

The creature grinned. The Scalecommanders were alive! Then all was not lost yet! “I'm on my way!” she called back, the being rushing off to the east.

Orgrimmar, Several Days Later

Seated at a table in the Broken Tusk was a young elven-looking woman. She had blue and pink hair and wore long white robes with a deep blue cloak, but unlike most elves her body had spots of pure white scales here and there. Her canines were sharper than they should have been, infact most of her teeth were, and she had small horns peeking up from her hair. Her eyes were a deep bright pink, the color of the Cherry Blossom trees native to Pandaria.

She sighed to herself, nursing a drink. She at least had the sense to request a recommendation from the bartender and was enjoying a rather milder drink made from berries harvested in the plains of Mulgore. One of the others had chosen a drink called Rat ‘n Boot that those strange undead people seemed to favor and last she’d seen him he was running for the door with his bright orange scales looking decidedly green as the Forsaken who'd goaded him into it laughed at his distress.

She still couldn’t fathom it. Every time she tried to think about it, her mind simply rebelled at the very concept.

Twenty. Thousand. Years.

Eons of imprisonment, sealed away under the Forbidden Reach… but why?!

They couldn’t ask Malygos. They found out he’d fallen to the warriors of this time, with Alexstrasza’s consent no less, some years prior.

They also couldn’t ask Neltharion because…

Here she grimaced, her eyes tearing up again as she wiped them with her fingers.

Neltharion, their creator, their father in many ways. The dragon chosen to be the Earthwarder by the Titans.

She’d seen what was left of him, hanging as a trophy in the city, and there was no mistaking it. Even this many years after the Cataclysm it still carried an echo of his aura that any Dracthyr could sense.

He had truly fallen so far as to betray the duties the Titans had entrusted to him? To side with the nightmarish Old Gods that they had sealed away deep under the earth, that he had been named Earthwarder to help keep imprisoned?!

Now he was dead, his own flight left in ruins. The two black dragons they had met during their flight from their Creche had revealed that, as far as they knew, they were the only two left. Not left uncorrupted by the touch of the void but left AT ALL. The Black Dragonflight had nearly become extinct!

“What should I do…” she whispered to herself, her words laced with despair. She was a soldier, a defender of Azeroth, but who would lead her? The Scalecommanders were the obvious choice, but Cinderthresh was too busy working with this ‘Horde Council’ to get his people settled in Orgrimmar.

Should she listen to them? From what she’d heard the Horde had been having rather dubious leadership at best. Their first ‘Warchief’ had been a good honorable man by all accounts, but his successors… well, if what she’d heard was true she was beginning to regret not going with Azurathel and Wrathion when she had the chance.

She tried to think, she needed a plan forward... but she couldn't manage it. Every time she tried to decide anything more complex than what to wear or eat her thoughts returned to that horrible confusion and terror from the battlefield, her last conscious memories of the time before her imprisonment.

That terror of being lost without guidance, without instruction, without anyone to follow or command her in the heat of battle. She rubbed at her temples as she began to feel her pulse quicken, trying to calm herself back down, and then she looked up as an orcish voice rose above the others.

“I’m fuckin’ fine! Just a little buzzed.” barked a huge orc woman with a large sword slung over her back. She got to her feet and downed her last mug, then tossed a few silver onto the table and stomped to the door. “Can’t a woman enjoy a beer anymore without you or Nitika breathin’ down my neck?!”

“Not after ya be drinkin’ de place dry so many times.” came the reply from another figure in the bar. “C’mon, we gotta meet de others at de docks.” The orc’s companion was a troll, but an undead one clearly. He wore black armor with bone-like designs. A spear was sheathed on his back, the head showing glowing runes along the metal.

“The docks…” she murmured. She remembered Cinderthresh talking about how boats and airships would be leaving for the Dragon Isles soon. She hesitated for a moment, then drank the last of her drink and left a coin on the table before heading for the door as well. She tailed the two, the orc and the troll, noticing that they’d been joined by some sort of zombified canine as well, the beast following next to the orc.

As they got to the gates however the orc suddenly stopped, then spun around and glared behind them with her hand on the hilt of her sword.

“Woah!” shouted the troll, “Galdia mon, wot da fook ya be doin’?” he demanded, glaring at her.

Galdia narrowed her eyes and slowly moved her hand away from her sword. “… dunno, felt like someone was following us…” she grumbled.

“… ya be drunk mon. We be in Orgrimmar, nowhere safer fer us.” he sighed, shaking his head at her.

“EVEN IF I WAS DRUNK I CAN TELL IF SOMEONE IS FOLLOWING ME MOLA’RAUM!” she snarled, storming out the gates with her two undead allies behind her.

From behind the last curve in the hallway, the woman stepped out of the shadows, her eyes huge and her hands over her mouth, her heart pounding in her chest. She had been following them, but she didn’t expect the orc to react like THAT!

She padded out into the sunlight, looking down the path at them. “They said they were going to the docks… but I do not want her seeing me again.” she murmured, glancing down at herself, then casually stepping around so that one of the buildings was between her and them. “Well… if I want answers, the Dragon Isles is the best place. Right, lets do this Laurelgosa. You… you can do this.”

She took a breath, and magical energies swirled around her as her scales began to darken and spread, going from pure white to deep indigo. Her robes vanished, replaced by a bright crimson wrap and breechcloth, and massive leathery wings erupted from her back.

She opened her eyes, still pink but now the entire eye rather than just the iris, then peered out at the path again, seeing the boat ahead.

Laurelgosa nodded to herself, then spread her wings and with a powerful leap she shot up into the air! She caught the wind, then straightened out and glided along towards the boat. She couldn’t be following them if she got there first, right?

When she landed she saw them talking to several other members of the Horde. A squat goblin man with a gun holstered on his back and a robotic creature next to him, a huge tauren woman that dwarfed even Laurelgosa in her Dracthyr form, another Forsaken with an imp seated on his shoulder, and a small vulpera girl in a colorful skirt and headscarf with a pack fit to burst with various things she’d gathered up.

They were all talking about going to the Isles, but then so was everyone in Orgrimmar, and there was something about them. She felt this odd desire to go with them. She glanced at the vulpera in particular. She almost felt she could hear something coming from her…

… something akin to a song…

She stepped out of view, and then strode out onto the deck of the boat as the group boarded, appearing to all the world once more as an elven woman with dragonic hints to her features. Her head turned this way and that as she looked between them, their group spreading out to relax as the boat made ready to sail.

The vulpera padded over to a set of barrels and climbed atop them, then took a flute from her pack and began to softly play it, her fingers working over the holes.

Laurelgosa took a breath, then walked over to her. “Um, hello?” she tried.

The vulpera paused, looking up at her and cocking her head, her large ears flicking. “Oh hi! You’re one of the newcomers right?” she grinned, “Seen lotsa you guys around, your songs all sound really neat, but kinda sad too mostly, a few angry ones too… but also a lot just sound excited and curious. I dunno, I guess that makes sense with what we heard about ya…” she began to chatter away, and Laurelgosa blushed, taking a small step backwards. She hadn’t expected this sort of reaction.

“Sekhi…” came a deep voice as a large set of stomping footsteps came closer, “We talked about this, take a breath and let them say something." chuckled the huge tauren woman that Laurelgosa had seen earlier.

Sekhi let out an embarrassed yipping sound, then blushed visibly through her fur, “Oh sorry, I get excited sometimes…” she admitted.

“Er, it is alright…” replied Laurelgosa, looking a bit flustered.

“She can be like that, but she’s a good friend.” nodded the Tauren, “Heading to the Isles too huh? I guess that makes sense, we heard most of you will be going back to see what you can find of your homeland. My name is Nitika, and this is Sekhi… what’s your’s?” she asked.

Laurelgosa looked between them, “Um… Laura… Laura Brightflame will do.” she nodded.

By the time the boat disembarked the three were discussing the island, or rather Nitika and Sekhi were with the occasional input from Laura. Perhaps she could find her way forward after all.

#warcraft #warcraft roleplay #warcraft fanfiction #dragonflight #dracthyr #adventures in azeroth

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