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Archive for February, 2011

Fabrio – Learning

The one thing Fabrio had never considered was just how difficult it was to keep track of things at home while being taught by Loremaster Skosiris. Most of his days were spent either deep in books or trying to form a coherent spell. There were times that he missed Silvermoon and the relaxed days of the chapter house. Anytime he grew too homesick, all it took was one thought of Dawnsorrow and Lightsong snogging in the kitchen to remind him of why he was here.

Today, the loremaster had him translating a Draenic treatise on domestic uses for basic fire magic. It was surprisingly interesting, not for the mundane subject mater, but for what the translation revealed about the culture it came from. The Draenai had the most peculiar relationship with magic.

The pudgy Sin’dorei was struggling over a difficult translation. He enjoyed the challenge of it as much as he enjoyed the feeling of satisfaction as he wrote down the entire sentence One of the librarians touched him on the shoulder. Despite everything, Fabrio let out a squeak of alarm.

“Pardon me.” He said sheepishly, knowing most of the eyes in the library were turned to him. “Is there something I can help…” The man shoved a bundle of letters into his hand and left with a snort of disgust. “Thank you.” Fabrio called after him. He opened a letter and suppressed the urge to rip the weekly account report from Veldarin Lightsong into little tiny pieces.

Taking a deep breath and stealing himself for calm, Fabrio scanned the document. All the accounts looked as if they were being managed appropriately. Of course, the coffers were a little lower than he liked since Dame Firebloom was not contributing as much to the house since she and his cousin were stationed in the Highlands.

At the end was a brief note from Lightsong asking for guidance. Katanya Flamestriker appeared to have moved what few belongings she had left in the House without a word to anyone. The secretary rubbed the bridge of his nose. No surprised that the woman had left the employ of the Order, after all she had been absent more often than not for months. Still, leaving completely without a word seemed sudden. Perhaps Lightsong and Dawnsorrow had grown more bold in their trists? Belore, he had no way to know…

He should go home.

No, he would not leave until he could defend himself, until he could be handed his mail without squawking like a little girl.

Let Lightsong deal with it. He could do simple tasks like cutting of the tailor’s stipend. That is, if he could pull his eyes away from Hammaryn’s chest. The mage apprentice squealed in horror as the papers in his hands burst into bright brilliant flames.

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Fabrio – Taking Charge

Fabrio glared at his closed door. How could he have believed that someone like Hammaryn Dawnsorrow would be interested in someone like him? The overweight Sin’dorei looked with disgust at his desk, littered with snacks. In an angry rush, he dumped everything on his desk into a wastebasket.

He pulled his goblin stone out of a drawer, intending to call up his cousin or even Dame Firebloom. Fabrio was well aware of what they had done to Cersei and why. He would call them and Lightsong and Dawnsorrow would regret humilliating him

Reality set in, robbing him of his anger. Unlike Cersei, Hammaryn Dawnsorrow had not played him for a fool. Hammaryn had been herself. He had been a fool all over again. He could already hear the not so subtle jibes from his cousin and Dame Firebloom.

What was he doing here? He had stayed in Silvermoon because Keltyr had needed him, but now? True, he was still needed, but not for the same reasons. Veldarin was organized and efficient, with Lieu’s help he could keep the house running.

What good was he? When things were dangerous, Keltyr had sent him away, to protect him. The papers and food in the dustbin burst into flames. “Belore!” Alarmed, the secretary scampered from his room to the now empty kitchen, filled a pitcher of water and then ran back to his room and then doused the fire.

The fire had been made by him. Fabrio knew that. “That’s it.” He said softly and then forced himself to repeat it with more conviction. “That’s it!” Inspired, He pulled paper, ink and a pen out of his desk and wrote a note. He gave specific instructions for both Lightsong and Boarhorder. While he as gone, he would expect them to act as he would.

It was late, but he would not be able to sleep. It was time to go back to Shattrath, back to the Scryers. He was going to learn how to use magic. He had the talent. It was time he was useful for something more than just his loyalty to his cousin. Next time there was trouble, he was going to be useful.

As he turned to leave his room, he caught sight of a dark form in the doorway. He let out a blood curddling scream, dropped his bag of things and fried the mirror that was reflecting his image. He heard the sound of pounding feet.

Timidly, the secretary stuck his head out the door and called out into the hallway. “It’s just me. Nothing important.” Fabrio took the cursing and the few mocking comments in stride as best he could. He needed to stop being this way. He needed to stop seeing the Scourge in every shadow.

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((There is a lot I could say about Itanya. She has grown and changed over the past twenty years since I started writing her. I always plan to do more with her, but it is hard to go back to other things. Still, she looms large in my mind. I’ll likely post this whole series of stories just because they are among my favorite involving her. ))

There was still the faintest smell of him on the blankets as Itanya awoke before sunrise. The pile of blankets and cushions was empty, however, except for her. Razoras must have returned to his tower sometime in the night. Grumbling, Itanya Blade forced herself to rise. Her clothes, quickly discarded once her husband had arrived, were on the other side of the small tent.

The air was touched with fall chillness, but Itanya Blade felt none of it. She never did. In fact, unless it was pointed out to her directly, the Lady of Corvale never noticed what the temperature was. The only reason she hussled for her clothes was to prevent her pages from feeling embarassed. Even with that in mind, she was only half-clothed when the first of the young men stuck his head into the tent. He gave a squeak and shut the flap behind him. Rolling her eyes at the foolishness, Itanya finished pulling her shirt over her head and emerged from the tent.

“What has the three of you all riled up this early in the morning?” The three pages, ranging in age from seven to twelve all looked up guiltily as their lady looked down on them.

“The Talinwood army, Lady, its been spotted less than a league ahead.” The eldest, Owain, finally croaked out an answer. “No one else wanted to disturb you.”
Grumbling once more, Itanya tied open the flap to her tent. “Idiots! Armor, now!” As the boys scurried to retrive her armor and then to help her into it, Itanya continued to curse. “Get my horse! I want to see what we are going to have to face.”

The sun was starting to rise over the trees, as Itanya turned southward straining to see the army that was beyond the range of even her sight. All the previous night’s musings on returning home, on spending time with Razoras or her son, Irin, fled. In her mind’s eye, Itanya looked into the face of Motil Torchholder, watching his surprise as she plunged Sorrow’s dull gray length into him.

Still, The Lady of Corvale hesitated as she looked upon the camp of Talinwood’s southern army. Before now, all the battles had been hit and run tactics. Nothing even closely resembling a pitched battle and she had not been involved in a single one. Itanya Blade’s hand tightened on the reins as wrestled with her feelings. This battle would commit her to this war. She was both surprised and disgusted by her reactions. Never before had she turned from battle, but she had constantly been assailed by doubts since the beginning of this one. She had to make the decision now, because she knew she could not lead troops in battle with these grave doubts.
There was no one nearby to share her thoughts with. Hellbringer was gone, Razoras was preparing her magic, and it was Tribute’s army, though thankfully not led by him, that she faced. Itanya had not felt this alone since she was a child and that was long ago.

Still weighing her emotions, she dismounted. Her eyes travelled over tents and campfires, judging the number of men that stood against her. It was old habit to estimate numbers and readiness. It did nothing to distract her from the true matter that lay before her. “Am I ready to do this? Why am I doing this?” The morning air was heavy and did not carry her words very far. Her mount, still unnamed, looked up at the sound of her voice. “My anger at Motil is not enough to justify this final step and neither are my hurt feelings from Chenaya and Tribute’s distrust.” It was true. Bless it all, but it was true. As much as she felt rubbed raw by the turn in those she had called her friends, it was not enough to throw herself fully into this war. That was not the only reasons, but Itanya had to acknowledge they were there.

“I gave my word that Corvale would be free as long as I could maintain it.” That would have to be paramount amoung her reasons. She had taken up ruling Corvale only when asked and now Chenaya wanted to take it. That was why she would raise arms.

She was not invading Talinwood. This battle would take place within the boundry of Corvale, despite Chenaya’s proclamation. Having resolved her feelings, Itanya mounted up and turned her horse back to her own camp. Before she reached the command tent, She broke down her own hard won barriers and touched the Hounds that claimed her for their Alpha.

~The one with the silver nose is mine to kill.~ The Hounds would make sure that Motil was left unmolested, but Itanya also sent them a picture of Ragewind. The wily soldier would make a good hostage. ~This one is to be brought to me, unharmed.~ That is all she would tell them.

The Hounds and her soldiers would fight the army. They would win. Itanya Blade would not let herself believe otherwise.

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Then’liath – Unexpected

Califas knew that things were not going as planned the moment the door was opened by an immaculately dressed servant. “Mister Darksun?” He nodded at the question. “Come inside, the Magister is expecting you.”

The hallway he was led down was simply decorated, a few tasteful paintings on walls that were neutral in color. The servant led him into a sitting room, gracing one divan was the woman he had come to see. The last time he had seen her, Then’liath Firebloom had worn a utilitarian robe. Califas was not prepared for the sight that created him. The deep green gown she wore shimmered in the morning light that drifted through the windows of the room. The room itself was filled with fine furnishings, though not as highly decorated as many he had seen.

“Lady Silverdawn, a pleasure to see you.” Califas smiled, ignoring the unease he felt.

“Lady Firebloom,” Then’liath corrected with a slight smile. She poured a cup of tea for him, restraining the sleeve of her gown with her free hand.

“You did not take your husband’s name?” He took the offered cup of tea. “You took the name of your previous husband.”

“As you recall, I was in exile and there were no political issues to consider when I married Father Redwing.” The noble woman sipped at her tea as well. “That is no longer the case. I am Lady Firebloom now.” There was no mistaking the warning in her words.

“It is about your return from exile that brings me here.”

“I am certain it does.”

She would not rise to his bait and that rankled. “My mistress tells me that you did not support her petition against the Prophecy of Light.”

“I did not.”

Frustrated, he slammed the cup onto its saucer, cracking both of them. “Do you want to go back to being a overworked healer in the service of a crass barbaric orc? You owe my mistress!”

“We had a bargain, Ser Darksun.” Then’liath replied mildly. “I would assist you so long as nothing you did endangered my sister.”

“We are the ones who arranged for your return from exile. All of this, you owe to us. You are in no position to bargain.”

Any trace of amusement or patience vanished from the lady’s face. “You forget yourself and you forget our agreement. I said I would help you provided you kept Dorri’tow out of your little scheme. The moment your cabal decided not to honor that, our alliance was over.”

“It was your duty to assist us. Without us, you would still be scrapping together a living serving in the army.”

“You are mistaken, Ser Darksun. True, your little scheme created the opportunity for my return, that is true. But you did nothing more but present the opportunity.”

Califas stood to his feet and looked down at the noblewoman, ignoring the dangerous look in her eyes. “You will regret this, Lady Firebloom. You have made yourself some dangerous enemies.”

Then’liath smiled graciously. “See yourself out, Ser Darksun. You no longer amuse me.”

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Bricu wrote up an in character spotlight for Dorri

I am always grateful when people do stuff involving my character. For one, I really like the perspective from the outside. I know Dorri very well from the inside, but it is good to see how other people see my characters.

The player behind Bricu is also a good friend, who listens to me when I freak out, says reasonable things when I need to hear them and is generally among the nicest people I know on the internet, even if he does play Alliance.

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Blog resolve

Well for months I have been complaining that I need to write more.

I am not filled with WoW apathy like some people are, but I do notice that I spend a lot less of my time in WoW filled with fun. Part of that is because a lot of the people I enjoy spending time with are doing other things.

So, I am going to make some changes in what I do. I need more writing time and this is how to get it.

To my few readers, I make this promise. I will post small bits of writing every two days. I have a pretty large backlog of Kel and Dorri stuff to get through yet. I also have some work on Pill to do.

In game, however, there is alt fiddling to do and RP and not much else. So I have the time.

Anyway. Check back on Thursday!

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((I am nearly caught up to the current day! This takes place before Deathwing’s reappearance.))

“I won’t bother asking either of you to sit.” Lady Laidrin’s voice behind them, brought them both to attention. Dorri kept her eyes focused on the far wall as the leader of the Blood Knights moved around them and behind her desk. “You are both obstinate enough to decline.”

The older woman opened a large book that had been sitting on her desk. The leather cover was embossed with the crest of the Prophecy of Light. Dorri heard Lady Liadrin shifting through papers.

“Have either of you thought about the consequences of your actions?” Dorri scowled and looked toward her commander, but Lady Liadrin was matching eyes with Keltyr. “Two years ago you were in my presence, advocating for a severe punishment for one of your subordinates.” The older woman’s eyes flickered towards her. Self consciously, Dorri snapped to attention, but she did catch a smile on Liadrin’s lips. “Now you are here to answer for allowing that very same punishment to be countermanded.”

“What is it that the orc said when questioned? That Dorri’tow was like a goblin construct? You did not think to bring that to my attention?” Anything Keltyr would have said in his defense was lost as Liadrin continued. “Do not bother to answer. Either you thought that was the state I intended her to be in or you were too far gone in your cups to know any better.”

Dorri’s composure broke. “Hold your tongue, Firebloom.” Dorri sputtered at the direct order and looked at Keltyr. He nodded without taking his eyes from their superior. “So, you realized you had made a mistake and sought to fix it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you tried to strong arm the orc since you blamed him for the entire incident. What you should have done is brought the entire thing to my attention.”

Lady Liadrin paused for a few moments. “I’ve let you have your head for two years, Sir Sunsworn.” She turned back to the open book on her desk. “In some cases, it has been rewarding. I have commendations here for your entire order. Letters of glowing praises.”

“I also have a collection of complaints, sometimes from the same people who wrote the commendations. Drunk and disorderly, possession of contraband, misuse of authority, assault on fellow officers, and now this latest scandal. I suppose I can now dismiss the charges that you assaulted Firebloom when she was unable to defend herself. I think we can both agree that even if your pride would have allowed you to attempt such a thing, she would have gutted you.”

“If you hadn’t reported and quietly dealt with those renegade deviants…” The leader of the Blood Knights gave a deep sigh. “You are both very close to finding yourselves removed from the Blood Knights. I believe Bloodsworn said there was some talk about making you bakers.”

“Both of you are valuable assets and I would hate to lose either of you because neither of you bothered to think beyond how good it feels to bust heads. So what am I going to do with you?” Liadrin put her hands flat on her desk and leaned forward. “You will do me no good in the upcoming conflict if you continue to cause trouble like this.”

With a charming and cunning smile that made Dorri’tow extremely nervous, The Blood Knight commander moved from behind her desk. “Since Thrall passed the mantle of Warchief onto young Hellscream, Ambassador Dawnsinger has found her advice less welcome.”

“The two of you will go to Orgrimmar and join the Ambassador’s honor guard. You will show that headstrong barbarian we respect and honor Dawnsinger. Two veterans of Icecrown serving in her honor guard should demonstrate the regard Silvermoon has for their ambassador.”

“And while you are there, you will both follow Dawnsinger and Master Pyreanor’s orders to the letter. One word from either of them and that will be the last time you are in my presence. You have one hour to pack and leave for Orgrimmar. Dismissed!”

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