Investments

“Närcyssa, sweetheart, it’s been ages!”

The death knight startled at the pet name and turned in the direction of the voice. A petite elf with copper hair smiled when Närcyssa’s gaze met hers, and she strode in the direction of the blond.

“…Letitia,” Närcyssa stated, recognizing the family banker.

Letitia nodded once and beamed—was that smile false? “Good, good! I had worried you had forgotten me. After all, you haven’t sent me anything to invest or to sell recently.”

“I’ve nothing of worth to invest at the moment.”

Letitia’s smile faltered, and her gaze had cooled. “Oh, indeed. I understand you’re living with Shifgrethor at the time being, are you not? Income must be slow, forgive my presuming.”

For a brief moment, Närcyssa lost her composure and gave the elf in front of her an incredulous stare. Letitia took advantage of this silence, smiling once more and taking Närcyssa’s hand, patting it.

“Every little bit counts; I'm sure you understand. You’ve recently taken up the art of inscription, correct? Just send me your extra herbs, dear, and I’ll fetch you a good price. Help me to help you, sweetheart.”

She let drop the death knight’s hand and took a step back, half-turning. “I must take my leave; I have auctions to attend. But do take care to remember my two rules: no loans for slackers, and no private enterprising—undercutting is not looked well upon, you know! Al diel shala!”

Letitia gave Närcyssa a fleeting smirk, her friendly façade all but gone, and she began to stroll in the direction of the auction house.

Speechless for the first time in months, Närcyssa could only watch as the distance between her and the family banker grew, briefly wondering how her father could have left financial meetings with his limbs and pride still intact.

Reparation

Närcyssa lifted up a corner of the fabric of the parcel, and her eyes darkened with recognition. Her eyes snapped towards mine and she sneered, “I do not accept; I will not be indebted to you.”

I slid the bundle back closer to me and slowly unwrapped it. “I am not giving this to you, Närcyssa Deathsong,” I countered, not meeting her eyes. “I am giving this to my sister of twelve years age whose viol was tossed into the firepit.”

I met her gaze then and saw the suspicion in her stare. “Now take it; my debt is repaid.”

Rituals

The air was crisp as I rode south towards Tranquillien, the distinctive smell of death and of the Scourge still lingering. The same as last year. And the year before. And the year before that. Six years since the day our world was ripped in half, and the land still refuses to heal, the air refuses to change.

Stagnant.

The broken spires of the village came into view, and I urged my talbuk faster. The woods were still unfriendly, and although I did not travel unarmed, I did not wish to stray from my purpose of visit to embark on a holy crusade against remnants of the Scourge still festering across the Ghostlands.

As I neared Tranquillien, I saw a black shape running swiftly towards me, and upon recognition of it, I smiled, bringing my mount to a gentle stop. The large, Darnassian cat quickly closed the distance between us, and affectionately made circles around the legs of my talbuk – the latter of which was none too pleased, for he started to lightly stamp his hooves impatiently as he kept watchful eyes on the cat below.

“Greetings, Ivan,” I said softly to the purring cat as I reached down to lay my hand against his head. “Let’s go find your mistress.”

I clicked my tongue and my talbuk – all too happy to begin moving again – started walking once more in the direction of the village. Ivan ambled at our side, but his eyes and ears were alert for any possible threat. As we passed the first building of the town, weary and broken, I couldn’t help but mourn the beauty of what once was. The town’s namesake, its once peaceful and tranquil ambiance, was now felt in the current atmosphere for all the wrong reasons.

But there, in the center of the square, sitting of the base of the toppling statue, were the only two that could convince me to traverse once more through the Ghostlands. Ivan, content there was no immediate danger, broke away from the feet of my talbuk and ran ahead to rejoin his mistress. Saeil softly smiled, bent down, and reciprocated Ivan’s nuzzling with her own, burying her face into his white-spotted, midnight fur. Shifgrethor stood up, brushed off her robes, and walked forward to meet me.

“Sinu a’manore, cousin,” she said, beaming, as she took my hands and helped me dismount. She patted the dark muzzle of my talbuk affectionately before she took my hand within her own one more. “I’m so very glad you’re here.”

“As am I,” I said, returning the smile as she linked my arm around hers and led me towards the statue.

Saeil left the affections of Ivan and stood up to meet me. She kissed my cheek, embracing me close. “Thank you for coming.”

I sadly shook my head. “You needn’t thank me. You demanded nothing of which I could refuse.”

We broke the embrace, and I took hold of my talbuk’s bridle and led him towards the inn. The building could hardly be called such at first glance, but it was still standing, and that’s all what mattered. I tied his reins to a post outside by Paniar, the stable master. He assured me my talbuk would be well-taken care of, and I bowed to him for his services.

I rejoined Saeil and Shifgrethor, and we took the road heading south out of Tranquillien. It was a silent journey to our destination: a short walk to a debris-filled clearing southeast of the major town. The closer we arrived, the more distinct the pain on Saeil’s face made itself known. Shifgrethor gently took her Other’s hand and tenderly kissed her fingers. We are still here, she seemed to say, and Saeil gave her a sad smile in appreciation.

Once, this clearing had been the site of a proud ranger’s Lodge, a small outpost with a large love of their duty and community. But once, this clearing had been the site of a massacre, rangers old and young alike slaughtered by the unforgivable and unstoppable might of the Scourge.

Those caught in the battle didn’t stand a chance.

Saeil walked ahead and knelt before one of the larger, fallen stone columns that had once proudly been at the forefront of the building, her bright red hair falling forward and blocking her vision even more than her tears were starting to. She reached into her bags and pulled out a small bowl filled with flowers, herbs, and fruit. She sat down and gently set the bowl on the ground in front of her, a small offering to those who, six years ago this day, lost their dreams and lives unjustly. Ivan, familiar with this annual ritual, lied down at Saeil’s side. A shuddered sigh escaped her lips, and Saeil reached down to stroke the fur of the cat that had been with her during that nightmarish day.

She remained silent, mustering up control over her voice. Finally, she smiled, hot tears rolling down her face, and she began to speak:

“Dad? It’s me… happy birthday.”

Questions of Morality.

(Note: This post is written OOC.)

When I first started this blog, I had intended it to be for strictly RP-writing -- to express ideas and to flesh out the lives of my characters. However, while leveling up my hunter, Saeil, I found that there were certain quest lines that I was extremely reluctant to do as they would conflict with Saeil's own views concerning morality. Both quests lines in particular are in direct service of the Royal Apothecary Society, and although I, as a player, have completed them both, I felt awful.

The most recent one involved the poor, ill Tauren -- Thersa Windsong -- in the RAS's headquarters. After I handed the filled vials of Azsharian water to the chemist, I knew from earlier experience leveling Luisette what was inevitable. I comforted Thersa, handed her the elixir which was "meant" to cure her, and felt like an absolute sellout as I handed in the quest for a measely 75 silver. Immediately I thought of Saeil's reaction -- here was my naïve, little hotheaded hunter, trying with all her might to do some bit of good in a world that calls her to kill 8 times out of 10, and... reality struck.

Saeil was never one to completely trust the Forsaken, as her hunting lodge was utterly obliterated by the Scourge attack on Quel'Thalas, but because Sylvanas was such an inspiration to her -- to all rangers, I dare say -- she accepted their tasks and carried them out with perfection. But ironically, Saeil is quite possibly the first of my characters to realize the evil behind the RAS, and to develop heavy doubts about Sylvanas and her agenda.

Which leads me to my question: Do you avoid quest hubs or specific quest chains for the sake of roleplay?

Personally, I'm a completist, going for Loremaster on Luisette and subsequent alts; and as much as I hate feeling like an absolutely horrible person (e.g. slaughtering members of the Quel'Lithien Lodge in the Eastern Plaguelands all to retrieve paperwork), I will still enter "player-mode" and complete the quests... trying not to think about how much of their "soul" my characters have lost.

Perhaps I've watched too much Reboot as a child.

Reminiscence

“That’s my girl.”

Lana’iel looked up from the infant cradled in her arms and smiled at her husband as he entered their bedroom. Renir returned the smile, absolutely beaming, as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to his wife. He kissed her head and caressed her now empty, still-swollen belly, whispering words of comfort and healing to ease any lingering pain.

“A fine daughter you’ve borne us, my dear,” Renir said affectionately. He winked at his wife. “Perhaps next time you can bear us a son.”

Lana’iel laughed. “If the Light provides.” She gazed toward the sleeping infant and gently stroked her soft cheek with a finger. The newborn awoke at the touch, but did not cry. Her light blue eyes, as light as a summer sky, observed her surroundings and pondered this new face in front of her.

“She will be a fine healer,” Lana’iel said proudly. “Her touch is already delicate and her eyes are full of wonder and knowing.”

“Indeed,” said Renir as he leaned over and kissed his daughter. “And what is her name, love?”

“Närcyssa, with the hopes that she’ll have just as much mirth as the flowers after which she’s named.”

Renir cupped Lana’iel’s face tenderly and kissed her once more. “She’s beautiful. I’m truly the luckiest man in the land to be surrounded with such pretty girls.”

A noise from the hallway caught his attention, and he chuckled as recognition came. “Luisette,” he called, “I see you peeking; when the sun shines on your hair like it is now, it absolutely glows.”

I poked my head around the door frame and peered into the room. I looked at my father, and then at my mother, and last, at the child in her arms. I looked at my mother once more and asked, “Minn’da, may I see her?”

My mother smiled. “Of course you may.”

I hesitantly stepped into the room and slowly made my way to the bed. My father made way for me, and I climbed onto the bed. My mother turned her arms toward me, and I was able to see the infant – no, my sister – for the first time. Our eyes met, and she smiled.

Explanations

Earlier today, I received a letter; it was from Närcyssa.

Naturally, I was hesitant to open it, especially after what had occured only a short time prior – but after letting it rest on the foot of my bed untouched for several hours, I decided to read what she had to say. After all, her mere presence in Shattrath was unnerving enough; what more could be revealed that would lay ruin to my already fatigued mind?

There were no salutations. Instead, the first line – written in that perfect script of hers – jumped off the page and hit me with a force I was not expecting.

I remember the cold... it read.

(Read the rest here.)

Resolution

I heard her before I saw her.

“Luisette Dawnrise, I am going to kick your scrawny ass!”

Without moving from the spot in which I lay on top of a goblin shop roof in Booty Bay, I called back, “Saeil Redhawk, perhaps you should look in a mirror before you make sweeping generalizations about my assets. I could say the same about yours!”

I heard her huff with indignation as she stormed up the ramp and across the bridge which led to a walkway at foot-level with the shop’s roof. I sat up and looked at Kazdormu, mouthing a silent apology for what was most certainly to come to pass. He gave a small smile and returned to his book – I didn’t blame him. I spun myself around just in time to see a fiery redhead, hands on her hips, peering down at me and absolutely glowering. Alyosha – her handsomely black wolf companion – wagged his tail nervously behind her, torn between offering greetings and staying loyal to his master, foul mood and all.

Saeil hopped across the gap between the walkway and the roof and threw a bound letter onto the ground in front of my feet.

“How could you?! – you’re much too predictable, I knew exactly where to find you – she’s your cousin, your blood!

“No sooner had I received this letter than did the sender show up in person, looking absolutely haggard and like she had been sobbing the entire trip.”

She squatted down to eye-level with me and snatched up the letter. “I’m not going to let you read it – obviously – but if you did, you’d notice the ink was blotched all over and some words were smeared from being dripped on and I’m ever quite sure she wasn’t writing this in the rain!” she shrieked, shaking the letter in front of my face.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but Saeil narrowed her eyes and covered my mouth with the letter. “Shifgrethor never cries in front of others,” she began, quietly, but with no less ferocity. “You know that. And yet when she landed in Revantusk Village after a non-stop journey from Arathi, she sobbed in my arms. And it’s all”—she smacked the letter against my head—“your”—again—“fault,”—and thrice, so hard I flinched.

“And furthermore—” Saeil paused in her assault, finally noticing Kaz sitting a few feet away from us, still reading and seemingly unruffled or uninterested in our [rather one-sided] conversation. “Who is… you know what, it doesn’t even matter,” she said, tearing her gaze from Kaz and refocusing her attention onto me once more. She huffed a bit, exasperated and upset, threw her hands up in the air, and hastily sat next to me. Alyosha, who had been lying on the ground with a frantic pant and ears pressed down, took this as a cue as good as any and moved to flop between the two of us, resting his head on Saeil’s lap.

I jumped at the lull in Saeil’s speech and asked softly, “How much do you know?”

Saeil sighed and tenderly ran her fingers through Alyosha’s fur absentmindedly. “Of course, everything,” she replied, looking at me sideways. “God, Luis, a full-out brawl in Shattrath? What were you thinking? …No, don’t answer that, I already can figure for myself.”

I turned to look out towards the bay, and I heard her sigh again.

“Shif’s pretty shaken up about what happened, you know. She was given forced leave by her commander because of her condition, and by the Well, you and I both know we don’t need a loss of a healer – a damn good healer at that – from the frontlines with some of the idiots fighting for our side.”

There was a long, awkward pause.

“You were supposed to be the mature one,” Saeil added softly.

God, did she know how to cut to the quick.

“I know,” I finally answered.

Saeil faced me then. “No,” she countered, “I don’t think you do. We’ve been friends since childhood, but damn it, Luis. Do you know how much shit I put up with from the other rangers for even being seen with you after you and Närcyssa left the priesthood? ‘Fallen priests,’ they said. ‘Traitors to our cause.’ ‘Can’t be trusted; they’re as black-hearted as the blood they name themselves after.’ It was only by the Well’s good grace that my lodge accepted Shifgrethor as my Other even after all that happened.”

She smiled bitterly and continued. “I vouched for you and Närcyssa, time and time again. You don’t think I feel just as betrayed by her as you? You three were like sisters to me.”

I felt my anger spark slightly at this. “You mean to tell me you would have just welcomed her back with open arms? After she willingly became a lapdog of the Scourge?”

Saeil’s eyes burned back into mine. “God, you’ve still a temper.”

“You’re one to talk,” I bit out sardonically, and I regretted it.

“No, I don’t know what I would have done if I met her after her pardon,” Saeil sighed, frustrated. “Hell, I might have even helped you. But her honor is not the one I’m here to defend.”

Alyosha whined, and I patted his rump. “Sorry, love, didn’t mean to upset you either.”

Saeil smirked a bit. “I’m going to go ahead and attribute that apology to myself as well, since we both know just how awful you are at making apologies to people that actually deserve one.”

I gave a small, embarrassed smile, and we sat in silence for a while. Resolved in my own thoughts, I placed my hand on Saeil’s arm. “Thank you,” I admitted softly, not meeting her eyes. “I deserved that, and I’m glad it was you.”

She gave a quick nod, and looked out towards the bay. The sun had started to set, and it covered the ocean in hues of orange and crimson. The normally brown and tan buildings were tinted copper, and small waves lapped up against the dock.

“I can see why you come here so often,” Saeil remarked. “It’s absolutely gorgeous.” She rubbed Alyosha’s shoulder, and he rolled onto his back, thumping his tail against the roof. “You know you’re going to have to come back to Silvermoon with me.”

I nodded and replied, “I know.”

Confrontation

“And what will you have today, sweetie?”

“I’ll have the usual, Kylene, thank you,” my cousin, Shifgrethor, said smiling.

The barmaid nodded and turned to me. “And for you?”

“Just a flask of port, thanks.” I turned to Shifgrethor after Kylene had left. “‘Just the usual,’ eh?” I grinned. “How often do you come here, exactly?”

A small smile appeared on Shifgrethor’s face, but her eyes were laughing with a childlike-mirth despite so much of her life being spent in battle. I envied her.

“Enough for the barmaid to know my usual,” she finally answered.

I laughed. “As if that wasn’t obvious.”

Kylene returned to the table and set a bottle of Pinot Noir in front of my cousin, and the port in front of me. I laughed again and shook my head. “I should have known! You were always the classy drinker.”

Shifgrethor smiled as she took a sip from her drink. “Dearest cousin, I spend most of my days in dirt and sweat and blood from the battlefield. Let me have my moment of refinement.”

Conceding to her reasoning, I nodded my head and smiled back. Suddenly I was appreciative of my current situation: here I was with the last remaining member of my family, having a drink without a care in the world. It was just like old times, our lives before… No. Such things mustn’t be allowed to ruin such a rare state of tranquility.

“The World’s End Tavern… wow, I haven’t been here in ages,” I said, turning my thoughts away from unpleasantries. “But, why here? Surely there are taverns in Silvermoon we could have visited in; there’s no need for you to travel so far.”

Shifgrethor’s smile faded slightly, and she set her drink down. “I’m going to be honest with you, cousin. I had previous business in Shattrath.”

“‘Previous business’? With whom?”

She turned to a table in the corner behind us and beckoned. “With her.”

I looked to the hooded figure sitting alone; I had not noticed her presence earlier. Pale hands reached up to the hood and lifted it back, revealing short, pale blond hair and eyes the color of ice—

In my rage I smashed my mug on the floor and toppled my chair as I stood up. “Närcyssa… You traitorous bitch,” I growled as I unsheathed my sword and shield.

The figure in front of me stood up in a flash and frantically held up her hands, showing her empty palms. “Sister…”

“My sister is dead,” I snarled, and I launched at her.

Närcyssa unsheathed her massive axe and, to my surprise, held it to merely block my attack. I inwardly laughed – nothing she could do would save her.

“Luisette, stop!” Shifgrethor yelled, anger coloring her voice. But nothing she could do would—

Where sword should have met axe there was instead an invisible barrier. Närcyssa sighed in relief, but I was furious, realizing what had happened. I tossed my shield to the side and raised my sword once more with both hands this time. I made another swing, and Närcyssa readjusted her stance to better prepare for the incoming blow. Sword met barrier again, but I was confident.

“I wield the Red Sword of Courage, dear sister,” I spat as I pressed my blade harder against the shield. “And it’s seen the end to many cowards such as yourself.”

The shield was starting to visibly crack; Närcyssa noticed and swore under her breath.

“Do you really think your pitiful excuse for a weapon can hold up against my own?” In a final effort, I threw my weight against my sword and smiled triumphantly as the shield shattered under the force. Närcyssa had readied her axe to block, but I was too strong, too enraged to let my attack be parried like she were my equal. We crashed to the ground, and I could feel Shifgrethor’s hands on my arm, trying to break us apart.

“Luis, stop this!” I heard her cry out. “She’s been given a full pardon by the Warchief himself!”

Now, admittedly, this startled me more than it should have. I had worked with the Knights of the Ebon Blade many times before, but they were different, they weren’t… family. But in the midst of my rage, this split-second lapse in concentration was enough for Närcyssa to capitalize on. She pushed back against my sword with her axe and, combined with Shifgrethor’s efforts, I fell backwards onto the floor. Suddenly aware of my environment, I took a quick glance around the room and noticed the tavern’s patrons had mostly fled – it wouldn’t be long before a Shattrath peacekeeper arrived.

Närcyssa pushed herself off the ground, holding her hands up once more, this time in surrender. “I didn’t come here to fight.”

I curled a lip in disgust. “How can I trust anything you say anymore? You weren’t forced to fight in the ranks of the Scourge – you joined them willingly!” I had had enough. I turned my attention from her to the opening of the tavern. “Kaz!”

At my call, a tall figure dressed in elegant robes strode calmly into the tavern. His copper hair was half pulled-back, and in the dim light his blue eyes glowed—

Shifgrethor’s eyes widened and she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Quel’dor—”

I angrily whipped my head to face her. “As if I would associate with such scum!”

Kaz spoke in even tones to me, as if the scene in front of him fazed him not. “You summoned me, Lady Dawnrise?” He walked up to me and bent down, extending his hand to me. I took it, and he helped lift me off the ground. Eyeing Närcyssa warily, who was now standing next to Shifgrethor, I resheathed my sword and tied my shield across my back; Närcyssa kept her gaze lowered, unwilling to meet my own.

“Luis…” Shifgrethor began quietly, as if she was unsure of how to continue; the abrupt arrival of an unfamiliar party had derailed the previous tension. “Who is your companion?”

I sighed, pushing my tousled hair out of my face. I couldn’t stay angry at her – I was never able to stay angry at her. I wanted to storm out of the tavern, leave her question unanswered, but I could feel my shoulders relax as I gave in; I nodded to Kaz. Taking his cue, he faced my cousin and bowed. “I am Kazdormu of the Bronze Dragonflight, my lady. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He turned to do the same to Närcyssa, but I grabbed his arm and shook my head.

“Come, Kaz,” I said softly, feeling defeated, and I started for the entrance. I heard a quiet sob behind me, and instinctively I turned around. I saw Shifgrethor – my beautiful, strong cousin – with eyes full of sadness; and my sister, with eyes full of regret and abandonment… the same look I saw within her when our father left for the Outland to follow Kael’thas. A sharp ache gnawed at my gut, and I forced myself to look away.

It’s no use mourning for the dead twice.

Heated

I hate Dalaran.

Let me rephrase that – I loathe Dalaran.

The level of noise gives me frequent headaches. The congestion forces me into close quarters with those I would instead slay in battle. However, those issues pale in comparison to the outright hostility exerted from nearly every corner of the city.

It’s that damned Silver Covenant.

As if dealing with the mages of the Kirin Tor on a daily basis wasn’t already a fine test of patience for both parties involved; humans I can handle.

Sanctimonious “cousins” I cannot.

Remind me to raze their hunter’s lodge in the Hinterlands sometime.

Turning Point

“Luis, I—”

I smacked her hand away.

“Don’t – don’t touch me. Please.”

Shifgrethor kneeled down in front of me and tried to catch my gaze; I looked away. There was silence between us, uncomfortable, raw; and yet none of us could bring ourselves to disturb it.

Time passed, and quietly I managed to force, “I couldn’t save them.”

My cousin gathered my hand into hers. She paused. “You did your best.”

I faced her now. “My sister, your parents… my best ended in failure.”

She gave me a hard stare. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Bad Example

Caiya furrowed her eyebrows, questioning me. “Are you sure this is OK?”

“Sure it is,” I said, scanning the skies. “Hold on tight.”

I pulled on my wyvern’s reins, making him bank tightly to the left, underneath the Aldur’thar Bridge and landing on a small ledge that jutted out from the rest of the rock foundation. I scanned the skies once more, the ground, the bridge above. Satisfied, I lifted Caiya down from the wyvern and then dismounted as well. She brushed off her skirt nervously, shivering a bit from the cold, but her eyes sparkled with excitement. “You know, the other orphans won’t believe me,” she whispered.

I removed my helmet and shook out my hair, and looked down towards the girl. “It doesn’t matter what they think,” I said softly, smiling. “You’re never going to learn anything if you don’t experience it first-hand.”

I untied the strings strapping the SGM-3 to my back and I gently set it on the ground, turning it on and making adjustments. I kneeled to the ground, propped it up on my knee and looked to Caiya. “You see those Skybreakers flying around?”

She nodded.

 “Well, Korm Blackscar – that big ugly orc on the flying ship,”—Caiya giggled—“wants us to shoot them down. They work for the Alliance and they’ve been very naughty.”

Caiya thought for a moment. “So we’re punishing them? Like putting them in time-out?”

“…Right. That’s a very good way to put it. And, well, since you’re such a big girl, I thought that you might like to help me.”

Caiya smiled, then beamed. She nodded, and I beckoned her closer.

“Good girl,” I said, and showed her how to hold the end of the launcher, how to look through the crosshairs, and pointed out the auto-target feature. She repeated the process to me, and pleased with her answer, I pushed the yellow button on the side. “Safety’s off,” I reported out of habit. I locked eyes with Caiya, and we both grinned. “Whenever you’re ready, just aim.”