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Trust in the Familiar
“People trust the things they know, things that are familiar,” observed the mage. “Sword and steel are well-known to you, and you trust them. But for someone like myself…” She trailed off for a second. “There is a universal truth that once you become aware of something, your interaction and involvement with it changes. Once you’ve experienced something, the physical memory of it stays with you, even if the conscious recollection of it fades to some obscure corner of your mind. It’s the same with magic. Even if I was naked and unarmed, THIS-” she lifted a hand and moved her fingers slightly, fluidly, as though she were trailing them shallowly through the surface of water that had been suspended above her, with subtle, incandescent ripples of arcane energy appearing in response “-would still be familiar to me. I would still be aware of this, and know how to use it.” She lowered her hand. “Not that either is better th
Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King - Prologue
The wind whipped up clouds of snow, howling and shrieking as it blew through the forgotten lands of Northrend, endless white deserts of ice and stone that a mere few had seen with their own eyes and lived to tell the tale.
Countless snowflakes surged forward, flying above the very earth where a great battle had been fought, its traces hidden deep beneath the snow, weapons and broken contraptions the sole hints of what had taken place. The wind blew yet again, fiercely and relentlessly, sending the snowflakes into the valley, crashing into the endless undead army pouring out of it, brushing bone and dented steel, passing through empty sockets and gaps between frozen flesh while rattling and clinking sounds echoed throughout the valley.
And the Lich King stood atop of it all, watching in silence, his white hair swaying in the wind, his glowing bl
Thalias Reboot : Part 2
Thunder boomed in a foreign cliffside as a cloaked figure sprinted through the rain. The sound of barking hounds drove the feminine figure to keep going, clutching something tightly to her chest. Blinded by the rain stinging her face she almost toppled over and she turned in a panic to see the hounds chasing her start to circle her. The feminine figure peered out from under her hood--amber eyes glowing from underneath. She hissed at the hounds in a foreign tongue as the rains swirled around her and and her humanoid figure twisted into a large dragon. Too heated from her transformation she didn't notice as her prize toppled down the cliff as she let out a snarl that rang out through the air like thunder as sparks started to form at the corners of her maw.
The night elf woman was awoken by a flash of lightning that only she saw. Ruki clutched her head due to a sudden throbbing pain at her temple.
An older night elf male passed through the
Chapter XIII - Furlblow's Farm
Previously...in The Chronicles of Azeroth...
"*Sigh*(could ended up being discovered anyway)". Tescio thought, "were thieves, they had no honor...were punished as such".
"No like this". Gabriel replied pursing his frown, "they should be brought to court and sentenced...no slain them".
"And what about their innocent victims?". Tescio asked abruptly, "perhaps you're able to give them back?". Tescio makes a diagonal movement with his head, pointing to Davis, "using a soul shard?".
"Perhaps Alexandros can discover something that isn't in the letter". Emerald commented while moved her hand to the chin.
"Stay in touch with your hearthstone then". Gabriel said in approving the suspicion, "light bless you".
"Good Luck". Davis said at shake his staff a little.
"Don't underestimate him". Nailock said reluctantly recalling that shield.
"May Elune light your path". Esmeralda said in curtsy.
"What is it Emerald?". Davis asked, "Wait...is for the fragment, right?".
Emerald replied with a grin
Chapter XII - The Stonemasons
Previously in...The Chronicles of Azeroth ...
"Indeed Alexandros". Davis said, "shouldn't lose the way of the paladin by this things... just normal people can live it".
The group noted that unnecessary phrase, suddenly, the Gabriel's necklace begins to shine...
"What did you said?!". Gabriel exclaimed with a look of light in his eyes, "Do not make such a absurb comparison".
"You want to bet?". Davis responded with challenged, turning a immolate in his right hand.
"Calm guys". Kanyln said unsheathe her spear and leveling between their eyes.
"Please friends". Nailock said with concern, "dont fight in a tavern by this muddle". See that they haven't changed their threat sights and the warrior raises an eyebrow, "...do you?".
"I've received reports of what you've done in Northshire, Goldshire and against the Defias brotherhood". Bolivar said, "I congratulate you, you will be promoted to private".
Gabriel, Davis and Nailock were enthusiastic for that promotion.
"Morgan, the collector, leader
“So, lemme get this straight,” said Akazamzarak, his goblin accent putting a somewhat jarring cadence on the words. “You want me to put a loop through the wards around Dalaran, so that something big for some friend of yours gets teleported somewhere down to the isles, without being noticed by any other magic-user in this city?”
“That’s right,” replied Aranya. Before the he could laugh, scoff, or protest, she asked, “Can you do it?”
A very loud razzing sound blew through the diminutive ex-performer’s pursed lips by way of immediate answer. “HA! Of course I can do it, sweetheart, but you gotta understand,” he explained, gesturing with his open hands. “The Tirisgarde pay me big for this gig they’ve set me up with. I go doin’ this for you and it jeopardizes a good thing I got goin.’“
The Thalassian sorceress had expected as much for his answer. “Tell me, A
Thalias Reboot : Part 1
Hey wake up.....
"WAKE UP RUKI!"
The young night elf woman awoke in a scream, her chest heaving as her eyes darted about the room. Her vision was blurred from sleep but she blinked rapidly she glanced up to see her little sister standing over her.
The young night elf in question was the middle Stormcrow sister, Dahlina. She had deep blue hair and eyes as white and smooth as opals. Her red-violet skin was littered with scarring from getting into one two many fights with the other warriors in training. "'Bout time you woke up! You were speakin' in tongues or somethin'! Did you drink the water from the moonwell again?"
The older night elf hissed as she shoved her sister off of her and sat up as the teenager hit the floor rump-first. She pushed herself to her feet and made her way to her sparse wardrobe. Most of the clothes in her wardrobe were just white blous
Swirling embers of light kindled and clustered in the space of the lofty study in Silvermoon City, coalescing... and then dispersing from the newly-appeared form of the Thalassian woman who claimed ownership of these chambers.
A shimmering mana wyrm uncoiled itself from around Aranya's arm, slithering off to reacquaint itself with the familiar rooms of its mistress, while the first thing that the arcanist herself did was take note of the hour on this world by looking up through the round skywindow in the dome of her study's ceiling, at once discerning from the angles of the light that it was mid-afternoon. Sliding a satchel from her slender shoulder and discarding it upon a chair near a work table, she strode over to her desk to see if any correspondences had arrived for her, having informed some of her contacts that she would be in Quel'thalas for a while and asking them to direct such things to her here for the time being.
There was a letter bearing the Consortium's seal, from Gezhe,
“This is it, right here!” Aranya proclaimed excitedly.
The sorceress sat just beyond the westernmost waters of the Sunspire harbor with two of Blaque’s port hands in the longboat that Riz had appropriated for her - the one that had been meant for practice weaving shadow runes and seeing if Kurel could perceive them well enough, or if they lasted, until she mastered them and could then work them on the Vengeance and the blind captain’s cabin.
The last of the four miniature runestones that Aranya had designed for the port was in the boat with them, and the runic design that had been carved into it had suddenly changed from glowing blue to white.
“See?” Aranya pointed out to the hands. “Perfect alignment with North, East, and South. Just like a compass.”
The two men seemed properly impressed and delighted. “You really weren’t pulling our ears about these stones,” one remarked. “Over the side with it then?
A note was on the Purveyor's desk. Another. Note. Was there NO END to the amount of NOTES and PAPERWORK that came to him of late? It read:
Half of the payment that was originally agreed to has already been given to me.
As for the other half: Whatever the cost to care for my injuries was at the clinic, cover it. Whatever the bill is to stay a few days more at the Strider until I can figure a port residence of my own, cover that, too.
Keep the rest. I don't want it.
" Boss, letter for you from that woman, doing that thing, with the port."
Fin: always one for details when it came to woodworking but shitty when it came to people. As quickly as the foreman returned to drop the letter off, he departed all the same as there was an ever growing list of things needed to be maintained. Waiting to hear the click of the latch once more, Blaque slipped from his hidden workshop, closing the case behind him. H
Most of the time I had no idea what it was you were speaking about. I was never gifted with the ability to manipulate any magic. I was only ever cursed by it. There were a number of secrets in you I was interested in uncovering. None of which I will be able to now. Unfortunately, I will not get the opportunity to help with your endeavor at Sunspire and the work I hired you to complete has become obsolete. However, your time spent is still of value and with this letter will be an agreeable payment.
Seek out Lady Demytrya Wintersong of the Scions of Antiquity. You met her briefly at the party. I believe your interests are of the same nature as her and her organization. She and her people would be fortunate to have you in their ranks.
~ Captain An’Diel
I don’t want to.
You don’ want this, arcanist, believe me.
Your voice… Who’s talking to me&
A murky sky spread over the Highlands, patched with stars and clouds that… were not entirely clouds… Much less entirely there. Their existence - much like the residual energies that touched this land - seemed to pulse and shift on itself at times. There were beautiful, clear streams and thriving green forests for as far as the eye could see. But there were also places that were broken, like cracked boils in the face of the earth, brought about by twisted, insane energy.
The scenery was rugged, thick with rocks, craggy hills, and trees and shrubs. Places where prey could hide and predator could ambush.
A feral smirk spread over Aranya Ver'Sarn’s lips, though none could see it. She sat alone, cloaked from all eyes with an invisibility spell, high in a tree, with a leather satchel slung over her slender shoulder and her booted feet dangling below her. Observant, fel-kissed eyes scanned the ground and the surrounding dark forest, up to the horizon, towards the Verm
Letters and DOOM
Miss you. I hope nothing bad has happened yet; that two year cycle is nearly upon us again. I hope you are well!
Anton’s letter had written itself before Aranya’s very eyes, one of her writing quills floating up and penning the message to the paper resting on a table in her room at the White Strider of it’s own accord.
It wasn’t exactly an uncommon thing between her and the human. Safer and faster than using a courier. It was among the many privileges one earned in learning the arcane arts.
It was the Kirin Tor magus’ words that troubled her.
He had noted that it seemed, every two years, some new catastrophe befell the world.
Which, by that notion, meant that Khadgar’s hunt for Gul’dan, the demon intelligence that the Kirin Tor had secretly wanted Aranya to gain for them, keeping her shuffled just aside of where Proudmoore could find her and the other Horde assets out, and all the scrolls and
Aranya gently reached out and touched the pandaren’s shoulder. He groaned, rousing from what looked to be a half-nap. He peered up at the source of the voice from his pillow.
The dark-haired elf gave him a lopsided smile. “Welcome back to the world of the waking,” she said, softly. “…For now.”
Seo-yun blinked, but returned the smile. It was a friendly, yet inquisitive one.
“You barely know me,” said Aranya, sounding somewhat apologetic for the fact, and she gestured to herself. “I’m Arcanist Aranya Ver’Sarn. Kurel hired me.” The pandaren’s beady but expressive eyes lit up at her introduction, and he gave her a warm nod. The sin’dorei woman’s clear voice and fel-touched eyes were quite noticeably concerned as she asked, “How are you feeling?”
Seo-yun breathed a gruff but hearty laugh, which was interjected by a cough. “Shitty,” he gr
Solutions and Alternatives
“The Vengeance,” they called it. Fitting name for a ship like that, thought Aranya, as she gazed on it from the window of her room, the sea breeze from outside kissing her face with its cool touch.
Despite Riz telling her that it was alright for her to be on the Vengeance, that she would be welcome to wander the ship and take her time figuring out the shadow runes that were spaced all over it like hidden torches to see by - for those who knew how - the arcanist had thus far still chosen to be aboard only when the ship was deserted. No people, no questions, no stares, no distractions. It made for quieter and easier study of the patterns that she was being asked to replicate, and the forces imbued into them. She knew that it wasn’t to last, of course. Eventually, someone in the crew would seek her out, want answers.
And when they did, she would need to be ready with proper answers to give. Especially if that someone turned out to be Captain An’Diel.
After the tour
It had gone according to plan. Aranya had enabled Vethoreas to move against his brother’s old pawns without tipping his hand, but only by the blood elf acting as an informant to the Banshee Queen of their moves and developments on his behalf. Anonymously, letting it be assumed that the leads were found by her efforts alone. The Dark Lady’s grudge for the other dreadlords she had history with would be sufficient enough to keep outside suspicion away from Vethoreas. Sylvanas wanted anyone or anything in connection with her enemy to be destroyed.
Leaving a different dreadlord to tip the balance of the game in his favor, unbeknownst to anyone but Aranya.
Better the devil you know… She had come to him with the idea, thinking those words in her mind. All it took was a few reasonable words to persuade him to say yes. She had teleported into the Royal Quarter later that same day with just what Lady Windrunner had wanted to hear.
It still wasn’t enou
Things that Only Stars Hear: To Life
It was actually a pretty spectacular view. As good as any Aranya could desire for.
The last descendant of Lord Thiodron Ver’Sarn’s ancient Highborne blood, name, and legacy lay with her sleek black hair splayed haphazardly around her head and her back on the dock that the ship the Vengeance had vacated, staring up at the Azerothian night sky.
It was gorgeous.
Aranya wouldn’t lie, the ever-wheeling stars of Outland, with their view into utter infinity, was still her heart’s most treasured skyscape. But here, gazing at the glittering expanse over the port, it couldn’t be denied that those western Thalassian stars that filled her eyes now were still the same ones that she had grown up with, and fallen in love with as a little girl. The ones that she had first told all her secrets to.
It was just after midnight now… Tomorrow was now today… Which meant that it was her birthday.
She sat up, and with a murmured conjuring spell she soon had an ale - ta
Mature contentChapter One (Playing with Fire - From the Ashes) TheBlindAlchemist 5 3
Prologue (Playing with Fire - From the Ashes
Ashes and tears. Once we have bathed in ashes and tears, drowned in blood and witnessed the darkness that seemed never ending, the Light is born. The rebirth of my people came with the rebirth of the Sunwell, a miracle only possible after madness, bloodshed and sacrifice. The madness of our Prince, who sold his soul to the Burning Legion; the bloodshed of a dozen nations that came to our aid and left our lands drenched in blood, be it blood of our allies or blood of our enemies. Royal blood.
And sacrifice of a pure being made of Light.
For all that our tears and suffering led us to, they may as well have been the catalyst that ignited the pool of Light, and so from our ashes, the Sunwell rose to the sky as a pillar of power, of golden magic. My friends told me that when they saw the Sunwell shining once again, the joy of tasting its pure Light was overwhelming. Beautiful power in its raw nature bathed us like the sun kisses the skin of one who’s wandered too long through the dark
Felo… “Flame,” in the Thalassian tongue.
Fire, raw and alive. Power and passion manifest, in purest symbolic form.
Earth often went dormant or barren when it would not blossom. Water changed through three states of being - ice, rain, vaporous steam. Air either breathed as softly as a goodnight kiss on your skin, or bit through your clothes and into your flesh with the gusty winds.
Fire was the constant.
Fire was always awake. Even when it smoldered it did not sleep, it merely lay patiently in wait to ignite something, to catch it and set it ablaze. Light and heat that could sustain or destroy. Always volatile, dangerous, and beautiful, and nothing was truly its master. No one fears anything like fire.
Flickering and capricious as flames could be, one could still count on all of that. Nothing changed about any of that.
And “playing with fire” - in absolutely every sense of the phrase - was everything that Aranya ever lived for.
To Anton Tavallion of the Kirin Tor
From Arcanist Aranya Ver'Sarn
I’ll get right to the point. The goodwill gesture of the Kirin Tor letting me be allowed to their outposts in Northrend after hearing of my incident earlier in the year in Draenor was appreciated, but it seems there is more?
I think you and I both know that there was little for me to gain in the visits to Northrend, although given Leothras Jadewalker’s recent kidnapping by the Cult of the Damned, I can’t say becoming re-acquainted with how whatever’s left of them operate isn’t a boon. However, there was always much more for the Kirin Tor to gain from consulting me freely on their own ground, without having to go through the Sunsworn’s “red tape” (as the goblins say), away from Jaina’s Proudmoore’s eyes and Vereesa Windrunner’s bow.
Neither of us are fools, Anton. We both know what your colleagues in the Kirin
Warcraft: Return of the Lich King - Epilogue
“Perhaps this is what the world needs.”
The raven, perched on a branch, watched King Anduin and the people of Stormwind carrying his father’s remains into the city.
“A fresh start, a new beginning.” The raven headed towards Stormwind, its castle being repaired. “A second chance.” Arno stood beside a tree, observing a girl and her mother. “A chance to grow stronger.” Grass sprouted between the stones of a ruined wall. “A chance to remember our mistakes.” The raven flew over an unmarked grave bearing the symbol of Lordaeron and continued its journey north, passing through countless lands. “A chance to mature.” Arator led the survivors of Stromgarde forward while Danath limped beside him, his arm draped over the half-elf’s shoulder. “A chance to reclaim what once was lost.” Genn Greymane arrived at the gates of Gilneas, other worgen beside h