For posting and answering creative challenges of all shapes and sizes http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/list.php?9 Mon, 06 Sep 2010 20:28:04 -0400 Phorum 5.2.15a http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,149573,149573#msg-149573 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,149573,149573#msg-149573







The weather had been neutral for the last few days. The summer had just started to cool, the breezes picking up just enough to gently caress the earth in a soft, loving embrace. Yet the sun still rose very high and very hot every day. It seemed that autumn just didn’t quite want to come. Something was preventing it from moving on. Or, perhaps…someone.

In the rolling plains of Mulgore just east of Thunder Bluff, a few souls had gathered at a modest funeral pyre. It was unusual to go out of one’s way to decorate something like this, but it was something that the honored had insisted on for anyone elses passing. They had agreed: to deny it at her passing would surely sully her memory. Tastefully adorned with a small bouquet of wildflowers at each corner, lengths of red and blue ribbon were pinned up along the edges of the bed of the pyre, fluttering with each breeze.

The rest of décor had been agreed upon and selected carefully. Everyone had gathered in linen robes of emerald, simple and tasteful per the honoree’s lifestyle, yet elegantly trimmed with just a touch of crimson to the collar and sleeves. They all carried staves, or walking sticks, with glowing blue bobbles or gems dangling and tinkling merrily. The small band ended up standing two by two at the foot of the pyre, gazing upon their handiwork.

Over the years as friends had passed on to the Earthmother, fewer and fewer were able to attend these funeral processions. Not so many familiar faces were on hand as physical witnesses. Although with the way the breezes were cooling and soothing…one could be assured that just about everyone who had been touched in life by her was present in ethereal form.

An elegantly wizened paladin known as Avantasia Winterknight finally limped up to the head of the pyre that cradled the grayed form of Keola Greenmane. Keola too was dressed simply, in the subdued red and gold draenic robes gifted to her by her only mate long ago, one of her most favorite dresses. A single white blossom was tucked over her left ear. Fine strands of silver and gold had been woven into her braids, pinned up much like they always had been. The graying of her muzzle didn’t take away from her childish spirit or playful features, nor did the dulling and thinning of her golden spotted fur betray her energy and passion. The silvery enchanted band that had been around the base of her tail all these past years was now entwined in her fingers, her hands folded over her midsection. A faded, slightly frayed blue ribbon had been wrapped around the ring and tied into a neat bow, as if a final touch.

The other members of the procession stepped forward to take their places alongside Keola’s form. To the left of the pyre - her cherished life partner Geranguas Ixarar stood as tall as he could against his staff despite his grief. At his side silently stood their only child, long grown. Arlyce Thunderhorn stood at the foot of the pyre, softly singing a song in Taurahe to her half-sister. On the right of the pyre – Xethra and Glaine stood together, also silently respectful.

“On this day,“ Avantasia started breathily, better known as Lady Winterknight to Keola. “we gather to honor the life of Keola Greenmane: druid of the Cenarion Circle, hero of the Horde, Veteran of Guardian, loving mate and dedicated mother as she returns to the Earthmother.”

Arlyce’s voice caught slightly in her song, yet Avantasia continued on softly. “We will always remember Keola for her kindness and free spirit…her dedication to her friends, family, guild and Warchief. She was the glittering north star to all the weary travelers of her life, always guiding us to the best of ourselves. Though we wish she could continue to guide us here in life, it’s her time now to give that to all the spirits in passing.”

Geranguas took a shaky step forward, reaching out to gently stroke Keola’s cold cheek as he choked out ‘I love yous’. His offspring finally took his elbow and pulled him back, as he was unable to deliver any of the other words he had tried to prepare.

Arlyce took a pause in her song. “I regret not finding you sooner, Sister.” She said slowly. “I would have loved to share my childhood with you. Despite rough beginnings, I know my adult life was all the better with you in it. You taught me so many things without even knowing it. You did much to honor both of your family tribes and support your own. You never shied away from your responsibilities despite how scared you must have been. I for one will tell your stories as long as anyone is willing to listen.”

Glaine flashed a handsome smile and shook his head, declining words as Arlyce once again took up song. Xethra took a step forward. “When I first met you I thought you were dead, you silly calf.” Xethra said gruffly. “You always got into the worst of trouble. Biggest pain in my ass. If I could go back to that day in the swamp I would still rescue you. I’d listen to your crazy rambling about the goddamned Earthmother. You were always so stupid. But you never let it hold you back. I don’t regret naming you my heir. You never let me down. Despite all the whining and crying.” Xethra paused, and took a deep breath. “You grew into one hell of a woman. I’ve always been proud. We may not have agreed. And yes we fought a lot. But this world will not be the same without you here. You’ll be missed. More than you know.”

Glaine and Geranguas stepped to the foot of the pyre to stand with Arlyce. There was a stake securing rope there that had been tied off, holding up the cover to the built pyre. The three of them took hold of it and slowly lowered it down over the body as Avantasia continued.

“Only three days ago you left us on this plane, passing peacefully and without pain, at the foot of the mighty Nordrassil. We couldn’t have hoped for a better goodbye for you, in your favorite place with everyone who you so dearly loved at your side. As selfishly we wish you could still be here with us, you more than deserve your rest. Rest well, Keola.”

Avantasia finished her speech by taking from her breast pocket a once white rose, painted delicately green with dye and placed it upon the top of the lowered pyre. Calmly she walked to the foot of the pyre, then away towards Thunder Bluff. Geranguas and the rest of the procession followed, one by one, until Xethra was left. As she laid her green blossom with the rest she murmured the demonic words that brought fire to her fingertips, finalizing the unorthodox ritual.

Much like Keola had in life, they never looked back…even in the face of death.]]> Keola Challenge Forum Sun, 15 Aug 2010 17:01:50 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,149195,149195#msg-149195 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,149195,149195#msg-149195 I don't know if this actually needs warnings, given the nature of the challenge, but yeah. Major downers ahoy, Batman.

The early-morning light slanted golden through the trees, turning the dewy grass to a sparkling emerald carpet. The birds had just finished their loudly ecstatic morning chorus and settled down to a more decorous volume, while the morning breeze made a whispering counterpoint in the leaves.
The quel’dorei smiled as that same breeze caressed his cheek and gently ruffled the fine dark hair of the baby dozing peacefully on his lap. He smoothed the wayward strands away from the little face with a bow- and sword-calloused hand, marveling at the gift he’d been given. “It is a good day to be alive, eh, my kit?”
The wolf at his feet cracked an eye at the sound of his master’s voice. When it was evident that neither food nor ear-rubbings were forthcoming, he huffed a long-suffering sigh and rolled over to present his back to the elf.
“Yes, I know your life is a trial, Nuwisha. But somehow you’ll find a way to soldier on, I’m sure.” The wolf continued to look unimpressed.
“Are you two bickering again?” He turned to see his wife, auburn hair disheveled from sleep and cheek creased a bit from where the pillow had marked it, tying her dressing gown shut before stooping to give the wolf a good morning scratch, which said worthy accepted graciously. Leaning over her husband’s shoulder, she regarded him with amused blue eyes. “Aren’t WE supposed to be the ones sniping and arguing with each other?”
“Well, Feyenna-my-love,” here he pretended to look thoughtful. “I suppose I could force myself to leave my dirty armor all over the house, lounge about in my smallclothes and let Nuwisha sleep on the bed so you’ll have something to complain about. But only if it would truly make you happy.”
She leveled a stern look at him. “Teladris Dusksinger, you do and you’ll find your armor up a tree, your pet shaved bald, and your smallclothes filled with poison ivy.”
“The most terrifying thing is, I’m sure you’d do it.”
“And don’t you forget it,” she shook an admonishing finger at him, which he playfully tried to catch in his teeth. The movement caused the child to stir, making a fitful noise and clenching her small hands deeper into her father’s shirt. The adults paused at the sound, waiting to see if she would wake fully. When she once again became boneless like only cats and very young children can, the conversation resumed.
“It has been one full year since she came to us,” he smiled down at his child. “Where has the time flown to?”
His wife nudged him gently. “Ask me that again when she finds her first love, or when she decides she’s FAR too mature for dolls, and that it’s past time she started her ranger training. Which,” she laughed, “Might be sooner that we think. Yesterday I found her leading Nuwisha around, stalking her toy hawkstriders.”
Tel looked at Feyenna with delighted astonishment. “Really?”
“Yes,” she grinned. “And doing a fair job of it too, for someone who’s just learned to walk.”
“That’s my girl,” he beamed with pride. “Look to your position, Ranger General Sylvanas, here comes Ayanna Dusksinger!”
He looked up at his wife’s indulgent chuckle. “Are you sorry she won’t be following you into the magistry?”
Her soft smile told him the truth. “Not at all. Maybe someday when she’s grown she’ll come charging to the rescue of some overwhelmed boy mage and they’ll live happily ever after.”
He leaned up and gave her a deep, loving kiss. “Why not? It worked once.”

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Everywhere he looked, there was yet another scene of carnage and misery. Arthas’ army had broken through the great gates of Silvermoon and forged a path of destruction right through the center of the city on their way to the Sunwell. The sight of broken, bleeding elven bodies strewn everywhere fed his growing panic as he urged more speed out of his terrified hawkstrider. Past Falconwing Square, into what once had been the lush parkland of the city, past the statue of the Huntress Ayanna loved to play under... the sight of the smashed bench and broken-in door caused his heart to freeze in his chest. Pulling the ‘strider up so hard the poor bird came inches from foundering, he leapt from the saddle as quickly as his wounds would let him.
“Feyenna!?” He cried, frantically shoving the wreckage out of the way. “Aya!? Answer me! Please!”
No answer.
The walls inside were scored by scorch marks, and piles of still-melting ice and what had once been Scourge soldiers told him that someone had put up a desperate fight. He found Nuwisha lying in a crumpled heap in the sitting room, and Teladris was amazed to find the wolf still breathing, if shallowly. The ranger held his hands over the furry form and poured most of the energy he had left into mending the worst of the injuries. When Nuwisha lurched to his feet Tel buried his face in the furry neck, receiving a thankful lick to the ear in return.
The Scourge bodies became more frequent the further into the house he got, until he came to a doorway almost completely blocked by them. Nuwisha gave a worried whine and started to dig at the fetid pile. Teladris began frantically hauling the stinking corpses out of the way, calling the names of his wife and daughter with more fear every moment there was no reply.
When there was finally enough room to get through the shattered doorframe, the sight that met his eyes made everything inside him turn to ice. His whole world lay in the furthest corner, Feyenna’s hand still loosely curled around the dagger she’d used to cut first Aya’s small throat, then her own when the Scourge had overwhelmed them. With a broken moan that spiraled upward into a wail of grief, he dropped to his knees beside them, uncaring of the blood soaking into his own tattered pants.

PRESENT DAY
The far-off cry of some alien creature shook the Sin'dorei hunter from his memories. The regal white cat at his side looked intently in the direction the sound had come from, seemingly eager to be on the hunt again. He took one last look at the portraits of a puckishly-grinning redheaded woman and a solemn dark-haired baby before closing the silver locket and tucking it back under his shirt.]]> Azraphale Challenge Forum Fri, 06 Aug 2010 09:03:49 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147586,147586#msg-147586 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147586,147586#msg-147586
--

She didn't sleep necessarily. It was more of an ... enhanced deep thought that brought about a detached feeling from the world. She was still awake, of course. But sounds were blessedly muted, her eyes closed and as she felt next to nothing, lying in bed was nearly the same as floating effortlessly through a relaxing mist.

Sometimes he wasn't there. But every so often, she would roll over and get a facefull of flufffy white fuzz that made her open her eyes and jerk her head back, spitting fuzz from her mouth and getting it out of her eyes and away from her face.

And then she'd stare down at the purring, stretching, lazy little bastard, eyes narrowed. Laying her head back down, she watched his face as he opened a set of blue eyes, yawning widely and licking his whiskers. His paws stretched out to touch her nose and then her heart melted. She would pat his head and smile quietly, closing her eyes again and welcoming his presence, eventually drifting back into that deep, restful state, listening to Gari purr.]]> Arhena Challenge Forum Wed, 30 Jun 2010 19:24:28 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147435,147435#msg-147435 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147435,147435#msg-147435 Brumboldt Challenge Forum Thu, 24 Jun 2010 08:41:03 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147328,147328#msg-147328 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147328,147328#msg-147328
Caeryn Peyton, Diplomat and Deathstalker, arrived at the dingy apartment on the upper level of Orgrimmar’s more disreputable district, but its lack of charm was lost on her. The empty bottles decorating the apartment’s front stoop were far enough out of the way not to provide a distraction as Caeryn’s bone knuckles rapped heavily on the heavy dead wood of the apartment door.

“Go away! I don’ wan’ any!” called the familiar voice from inside; to Caeryn’s tuned ear, it sounded slightly inebriated, but the voice of Audre Day always sounded slightly inebriated. Part of her charm.

“Official Undercity business, Miss Day,” Caeryn said, “Open the door.”

There was a clamoring of metal, the sound of something falling to the floor – reams of papers it sounded like – and with a whoosh of air and dust from the Orgrimmar floor, the door opened.

“Caeryn Ashwood, ‘r should I say Peyton? How th’ fel have you been? Long time long time long time girlarooney … come in t’ my humble abode. It ain’t much, but it ain’t like ya can see it anyway,” Audre let out a hollow laugh at that last one, and stepped aside, swooping her plate mail covered arm in a Please, Enter gesture.

Caeryn nodded, noting the gesture by sound and stepped just beyond the threshold of the room, feeling the wall to her right; noting no furniture, she sidestepped and stood there. Audre grinned and slammed the door, causing another woosh of air and dust from the apartment floor and furnishings. Caeryn rubbed at her eye sockets.

The former Death Guard crossed the short distance to the Deathstalker, looking up at her expressionless face, “Now, what’cha here on You See business fer? Ya ain’t got no ‘thority here, ya know. This bein’ Kalimdor an’ all.”

Caeryn tilted her head to one side, expression focused on a point over Audre’s head, “It seems we’re both in error, as aren’t you residing in Orgrimmar on Official Undercity Business as well, Miss Day?”

“What th’ fel is with th’ Miss Day dren? Call me Audre. Honey, we go back a looong way. Why you gotta have some diamond tipped cane up yer ass all th’ freakin’ time?”

“I find it aids with my posture. Now, to the subject at hand, Miss Day,” Caeryn continued, “What, exactly, is your Official Business here in the Orc Capitol? The Kor’kron are very curious, and it seems they would rather hear from the source than your employer.”

“Whyzzat? They got a problem with my employer?”

“She’s in Public Relations …” Caeryn said, lifting her chin slightly.

“An’? What’s the problem with PR? I mean – iss just PR … all bullshit bullshit. Iss what we do, innit?” Audre gestured with her hands as she spoke, as if weighing out one value of bullshit against the other.

“Precisely the problem, you see, Miss Day. What is your official position here within Orgrimmar?”

Audre straightened up to her full height, which was considerably shorter than Caeryn’s, “Official Orc Emissary from the Undercity. I promote goodwill an’ all of that dren.”

Caeryn tilted her head to one side, “So you are not here on an information gathering capacity?”

Audre laughed, “Ya think I could do any’a that crap? Audre Day here loves her some Orc lovin’. I ain’t tellin’ on no Orcs, not after they be spendin’ a night in the Day-Shack.”

Caeryn's voice dripped with sarcasm, “How … touching.”

Audre smirked, lips parting slightly to show a mouthful of yellow teeth, “Ain’t it? I’m fulla touchin’ stuff, honey.”

“I recall," Caeryn said curtly.

“You still bitter ‘bout that ancient hist’ry? Seriously, honey, let. That. Stuff. Go. You got bigger fish t’ fry now … leave sleepin’ dogs (‘r Scourge fer that matter) lie, an’ go ‘bout your life pissin’ people off or whatever it is that’cha do," Audre waved her hand dismissively at the rogue, turning to walk away.

Caeryn reached out quickly, attempting to grab hold of Audre's arm. Instead her claws made a scraping sound on the warrior's plate armor that halted the woman in her tracks, “I have a long memory, Audre Day."

“An’ I got a looong record’a doin’ things I ain’t s’posed t’be doin’. In other words, I don’t learn from my mistakes,” Audre turned to Caeryn, grinning.

“Perhaps you should,” Caeryn raised a pointed eyebrow.

“Maybe you should wise the fel up an’ realize that unlife is about havin’ fun an’ not about makin’ people AN’ yerself miserable all th’ fellin’ time, eh?” Audre moved her head from side to side, punctuating the sentence as she spoke.

“What?”

“You got an immortal life at’cher hands, Caeryn Ashwood Peyton Asshole or whatever th’ fel yer name is, an’ yer wastin’ it bein’ fuckin’ miserable all the fellin’ time. Get OVER yourself," the warrior raised her voice and her arms at the same time, thinking she had the Deathstalker in her sights.

“You whore …” Caeryn said, growing angry.

“Bitch. Get outta my house," Audre said, pointing at the door.

“Gladly, it smells like a brothel in here,” Caeryn replied, stepping to the door.

Audre smiled broadly, closing the distance between the two so that she was right against the rogue's back, “Thass cause Audre Day gets some, unlike your dried up fellin HOLE.”

Caeryn whirled around at the door, quickly extending her left arm so that her talon caught Audre’s cheek, “Behave, child.”

The two women stood there, motionless, the taller in her black leather armor, expressionless face not focused on that of the shorter, darker haired one in front of her. Caeryn’s talon rest on Audre Day’s face for a few more moments, until the former opened the door swiftly behind her and stepped out of it, closing it in front of her.

Audre tried to listen for the footfalls making their way from the door, but heard nothing other than the normal bustling and din of the city Drag. The warrior crossed the dirty apartment to her one lone chair, and collapsed in it, pulling out a hand rolled cigarette from a worn leather pouch.

She sat, filling up the apartment with smoke, as Caeryn made her way down the walkway, jostled this way and that against the wall, out into the open air of Orgrimmar's trade district, where she was somehow picked up into the crowd ... and was lost.]]> Caeryn Challenge Forum Wed, 23 Jun 2010 14:23:14 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147285,147285#msg-147285 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147285,147285#msg-147285
He had a lot to think about anymore; his mate was due to have their baby soon, and through it all Matojo was reminded how much he'd changed over the years.

Two years ago he never would have stuck around.

Two years ago he never would have been with a Troll woman for fear of this exact same situation.

Two years ago he never would have found himself anticipating fatherhood and not freaking out.

Okay, not freaking out was not entirely the truth - he was nervous, and not simply because sticking around was new to him.

The old warrior scowled as he took a few more solid puffs of his pipe. He was, as far as Trolls went, an old bastard. If he was lucky, he'd get another eighteen years - longer only if he was really lucky. The likelihood of living to watch his son grow up (he was determined that the baby would be a boy) was... well, it wasn't good. Mat didn't like to admit it, but he knew that, as a soldier, he was constantly knocking on Samedi's door (thankfully, the bugger wasn't answering).

What would happen to Bec and their kid if he was killed in battle, he wondered. She had already lost a mate to war - he didn't want her to have to deal with that a second time. He also wasn't too keen on the idea of death. Sure, he knew he'd go to his ancestors or whatever the fuck Samedi had planned for him, but that fear of the unknown was still there - it was just something he didn't want to go through.

Matojo frowned deeply as he reached into his shirt and pulled out a carefully folded sheet of parchment. He slowly opened it up, gave it a quick glance over, then looked back toward the hut.

Then he looked at the paper again.

He wasn't ready for what his crew had called "the big sleep" - he wasn't ready to die for the Horde just yet.

As the smoke from his pipe gradually faded, his brows furrowed and he took the piece of charcoal he had brought outside with him from his pocket.

I, Matojo Furiey, wish to tender my resignation ...]]> Matojo Challenge Forum Wed, 23 Jun 2010 14:22:45 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147206,147206#msg-147206 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147206,147206#msg-147206
*There are a few tear stains on this page.*

Dear Diary,

Dad came by today again, always a happy time with him and the rest of the kids. It's when we're alone thought that is even more fun, but over the past weeks I've seen him change a lot.

Even though he's a deader, it looks like he's aging and it's affecting him badly. His eyes dimming weakly once in a while, the way his walk has a bit of disjointedness to it that you'd see in a robot, I've even noticed that he's had a slight pause in his speech at times before resuming.

I remember hearing him talk about something, where at some point a Forsaken loses their sense of self and possibly returns to the Lich King's army. But I heard the Lich King's dead, so his power has to be dwindling. I don't want that. I wanna be with dad forever.

He's taken care of me wonderfully over the years, I don't know what I'd do without him.]]> Marosemius Challenge Forum Tue, 22 Jun 2010 10:32:13 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147197,147197#msg-147197 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147197,147197#msg-147197
He hasn't got a whole lot of years left, and I know that. I'll give him everything I have, heart and soul, to make these last years good ones. When the time comes, whether it's fighting the Alliance or the Legion or whatever the next thing is to come along and threaten all of Azeroth, or whether it's quietly in camp in the night, I'll be beside him, so he won't be alone at the end. And I won't cry, I won't beg him to stay with me, I won't let him spend our last moments together watching my heart break.

And then... "and then" is the part that I can't even bear to think about. It's only been a few years, barely the blink of an eye for my kind, but I can't even imagine a world without Jai. How will I face centuries without my best friend?

My death doesn't scare me anymore, but even thinking about his, knowing that we won't have long together before I have to face it without him to lean on, ties me in a big, ugly knot inside. I am afraid of death... but it's not mine that scares me.]]> Mira Challenge Forum Wed, 23 Jun 2010 14:25:40 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147155,147155#msg-147155 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147155,147155#msg-147155 1 - Benvolio is Benvolio, dur. Brillionaire is my Forsaken rogue bank alt. They have a sordid past which I've catalogued in other responses, like the Children of Warcraft one. Montaigue isn't mine - he's Audrey/Erzullie's.
2 - Viola is Ben's mother. She has severe dementia.
3 - PSYCHIC SCREAM IS ALWAYS AWESOME.

Enjoy!

___

It was a perfect morning, by Benvolio’s account. The leaf-filtered gold light in the small house he shared with Montaigue moved gently back and forth in time with the light breezes, stirring the air just enough to make one sleepy. Ben had decided after rising at some point in the morning and making biscuits, that they didn’t have a table in the house anyway, and so it was probably a fine idea to take the plate of biscuits and some honey and whatever else looked good back to bed. From that point, the rest of the morning had sort of devolved into a lazy tableau of biscuit-eating, idly reading, waking, sleeping, and waking again. Montaigue, however, was slightly more absorbed in his book, which also suited Benvolio just fine – Ben had found a comfortable place on Montaigue’s chest from which to doze and nudge the cats away from the biscuit plate with a foot.

“Mina….shoo! No, biscuits aren’t for cats.”
“Ah, let her eat it.”
“Are you serious? Cats can’t eat that. What if she chokes on it or something?”

Montaigue shrugged innocently. Ben pushed himself up on his arms, frowning through a curtain of unruly blonde hair. “The discord between you and my cat, it’s getting old, you know.”
The older of the two elves shut his book with a smirk. “You’re awake now, I see.”
“I am. Good morning!” Ben leaned in for a kiss.
“Mm. Afternoon.”

“Wh-what?” Ben sat up suddenly, forgetting kissing and cats and biscuits in his panic.
Montaigue picked up his book again. “It’s afternoon now, I’m certain. You spent most of the morning eating biscuits and snoring slightly.”
Ben muttered something that might have been a swear, leaping to his feet and gathering up his clothes. “Oh no oh blast oh, Light, I promised him I’d be there before noon…” He stumbled into his pants, swearing again.

Montaigue raised an eyebrow. “Whatever it is, dearheart, if they truly need you there they won’t leave without you.”

“No, it’s Brillionaire. I have to exchange some things into the vault and he said I had to meet him in the Undercity before noon or he wouldn’t be there.” Ben momentarily attempted brushing his hair, but quickly abandoned the thought and tied it up, instead.

Montaigue’s book hit the floor beside the bed again, the lines between his eyebrows deepening. “I don’t understand. Has he forgotten that he works for you? That your mother and your House said he is to function as your butler? And not contrary?”

Ben sighed, shoving feet into boots and buttoning a robe. “I don’t…I don’t know, it’s just easier to do it as he says? I mean he makes all these specific requests and I don’t really care, one way or the other, so. I just have to hurry.” He shrugged, moving across the room to say a quick goodbye to Montaigue, who had risen from the bed. Ben found himself caught by the shoulders, looking up slightly into Montaigue’s eyes. “I…uhm. Oh. But I really do have to go and stuff, though, I’ll try and come back after, it’s not far-“

Montaigue raised his eyebrows lightly, his Stern Teacher face, if Benvolio remembered correctly. Ben opened his mouth, but was cut off by his former Professor’s speech. “Don’t let him do these things to you, pushing you around like that. It isn’t right. It’s quite upsetting, actually. And teach him how he ought to speak to you, while you’re rushing to be so kind to him today.”

Ben’s eyes dropped to the walls, the floor, but he nodded lightly. “It. It doesn’t really bother me that much and. Uh. If it makes things easier I don’t mind, really? Uhm. But. I. I’ll try, okay?” He leaned up to lay a kiss on Montaigue’s mouth, and turned to snatch up his satchels on the way out the door.
_

The red orb shimmered lightly, soundlessly as Benvolio found himself in the Ruins of Lordaeron. Four pairs of eyes and eyeless holes snapped their necks to glare at him, walking through the courtyard. Ben stood out like a sore thumb in the grey ruins, all violet robes and a herald’s flag of a bright blonde ponytail. Even his footsteps seemed louder, the scent and warmth of sunshine and life on his skin was like a strong perfume in this place. The air was musty in the ruins above, and grew heavier, wetter as he stepped upon the elevator into the Undercity proper. The scent of mildew, of rot on stone and the tang of decay hovered over the city’s center like a cloud of gnats. Inside, there were several adventurers and citizens conducting business, but almost no one, not even the city’s occupants, looked pleased or comfortable.

Benvolio hustled through the dark pathways, rushing to the corridor where he and Brillionaire usually met, past the inner ring, where the auctioneers haggled. Several withered, irritable Forsaken moved here and there, but none of them he recognized as his butler. Ben sighed. He must have missed him, and now he would have to go to the banker himself, who was not friendly, and frequently refused Ben access to his vault.

“You’re late.”

Ben jumped and gasped, whirling around to the source of the icy breath upon the back of his neck. Brillionaire stood crouched before him, mouth like an anglerfish and frowning toothily. His bald head and faded suit were in similar condition – well-kept, yet covered in small burns and holes. He stank of mothballs and the wet scent of copper coin. Ben caught his breath. “I, I, I. I’m sorry, Brillionaire, sir, I got. Got caught up.”

The Forsaken frowned deeper, the flesh of his eyesocket deepening around the scratched monocle he wore over his remaining eye. “You’re always late. It’s rude. You’re rude.” He counted a few gems in his palm.

Benvolio set his mouth in a line and nodded. “I. Yes, I know. I’m late. It is rude. I am sorry. But, if you could still take these things…” Ben shifted a satchel towards him, as well as a paper folder of glyphed parchment. Brillonaire regarded him for a long, miserable moment, snatching the paper folder but leaving the satchel. He adjusted his monocle, touched his dry tongue to a bony finger, and flipped through the glyphs.

“Really, boy. These aren’t selling at all. Burn them.”

Ben’s face fell. “B-b-but! I even spoke to the gnome gentleman at the shop! He..he assured me that these are in high demand! Really, Brill, can you try, I mean I spent all week on them…”

“Oh, perhaps they were in high demand this MORNING. But it’s AFTERNOON, now. No one is buying them, I assure you.” Ben watched in horror as his butler tore an exquisitely illustrated parchment in half and dropped the folder on the floor. He sprinkled a bit of pipe tobacco in the center of the torn scrap, rolling it up and licking the edge with a sticky tongue.

“Brillionaire, don’t!”

The butler frowned, holding the makeshift cigarette in front of himself. “Lich King’s balls, call me by my proper name, at least.”

“Rothschild, then! You! You!” Ben slung his satchel back onto his shoulder, staring at various spots on the floor in abject panic. “That ink is difficult to make!”

“Oh.” The butler rolled his remaining eye, tucking the cigarette behind one desiccated ear. “Oh, it’s difficult is it. It’s also difficult to try and peddle off your scribblings as the work of a proper Scribe, but I do it, when I can. And as skilled as I am in these markets, I assure you. Not even a Goblin could find a buyer for that garbage.”

Ben blinked, blinked again. “It’s…I. I can’t.” He shut his eyes, opened them again. Suddenly Montaigue’s earlier advice was ringing in his ears. “It isn’t garbage, you know, I work hard on those, and and and. I think. I think you ought to owe me for the parchment and ink.”

Brillionaire laughed lightly. “Oh, are we beginning a ledger suddenly? On who owes what to whom? Then I’d like to be paid a distinct cut from each glyph and item and bit of nonsense bullshit I peddle off. I’d like to be paid for having to be away from my home, and the lady of the House who I have looked after for years. I’d like to be paid for the mental anguish of doing correspondence and finances for a spoiled, incompetent, spineless fool! “

“Rothschild.” Ben’s eyes were wide, his collarbone heaving up and down under his robes, his mouth set. “You oughtn’t speak to me that way.” His voice shook, but the Forsaken was shorter, stooped. Ben stared so hard he thought his eyes would cramp.

“And while I’m at it, I’d like to be paid for the time I waste waiting for you while you roll around in bed with that miserable lecher who passes for an educator among you idiot Sin’dorei men.” The Forsaken’s grey face was twisted in a toothy sneer. “You disgust me.”

Ben squeezed his eyes shut, his hands balling at his sides. His ribs felt like they were going to pop from holding in his gasps, even his hair follicles burned with anger. Anger! Real, honest-to-Light anger and
Brillionaire was going to get it. “No! No, no no! Say what you want about me, but I don’t want to hear you say a thing about Montaigue! Not even anything you try and pretend is kind, because we both know it isn’t and I don’t want to hear it! I don’t ever even want to hear you say his name again, I don’t want to hear you say anything anymore! Ever! I can’t! I can’t believe how awful you are!” The working class of the Undercity looked up as the suddenly loud elven voice echoed from the high, damp walls. A few of them glared.

Brillionaire’s face twisted, a grin or a grimace, it was impossible to discern. “Then dismiss me. Go continue shacking up with your nasty Professor and see if you can get that addled, pampered little sister of his to deal with your shit. I’m sure she’ll vomit herself to death within a week, from vanity or stress. I only stomach you because I have no more appetite to lose. I’d much rather be home with my Viola.” He moved as he spoke, slithering through the space between them to end his insults an inch from Benvolio’s face.

“She—“ Ben almost choked on his own, unexpected anger. “She wouldn’t even remember you, Rothschild.”

The Forsaken moved suddenly, fetching the hidden dagger from within his breast pocket and pressing it to Benvolio’s throat in a movement too quick to even flash in the darkness. “Listen here, you filthy little shit—“

Truthfully, Benvolio hadn’t intended to do what happened next. He gasped in fear as he saw the knife, and the gasp escaped from his chest in a scream, a chilling vibration that shook the immediate area and took strength in the shadows. His chest sunk and he stared the Forsaken down, shrieking like a mandrake pulled from the earth. His eyes flashed green in the darkness, and the shadows dissipated as soon as they’d come.

Brillionaire cowered from the priest, his back plastered against the nearest wall. He shook visibly, his teeth now bared in fear rather than rage. His hand shook as it came up to take the fallen monocle, swinging uselessly on its chain, and replace it in the eyesocket. “Y-y-you—“ But his retort was lost in the quavering of his voice.

Ben averted his eyes from the frightened Forsaken, moving forward gingerly to set the satchel and the folder of glyphs at his feet. Brillionaire whimpered and drew his hands up against his chest as Ben approached, still caught in the throes of the priest’s spell.

“I guess you can just mail me what comes of those,” Benvolio muttered lowly, stalking past his butler and up the stairs that led out of the miserable Undercity.]]> Benvolio Challenge Forum Wed, 23 Jun 2010 14:41:42 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147145,147145#msg-147145 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147145,147145#msg-147145
I am alone by the small fire that sits before my simple tent, my gaze is lost in the dancing flames. My mind is elsewhere, remembering, as I often do.

As Sin'dorei, my life is full of death - not just those that I have caused in a flash of fire or with a few simple words that left people and creatures writhing in pain at my feet, but also those of loved ones. The memory of my father falling beneath a surge of Ghouls as my brother tried to drag me away, and of the cleansing fires that burst from my hands in my grief, is still fresh in my head. So, too, is the image of my sister's remains in that small box upon a pyre along the Eversong Woods' coast, the mournful cry of the bugle echoing in my ears as all was set aflame. That box was too small to hold a Sin'dorei woman, but not too small to hold a tattered fire brigade uniform and scattered body parts. I also remember Roddy, telling me that I'd make a great mage one day, before embarking on his final patrol. Three days after that, he was dead.

Adelrich remembers all of that, too. As siblings, as close as we are, we are painfully aware of so, so much.

I could recite the fates of all my family and my ancestors, but I cannot tell what befell the man I loved. I can't say that he fell beneath swarms of Scourge or upon an Alliance blade, nor can I state with certainty that he simply became lost in the wilderness or charged off a cliff as Grub was wont to do. All I can say is that his fate is as uncertain as anything can be.

He is the only person that I have absolutely nothing to say about.

The only time I will know for certain is the day that I die. Perhaps then, I'll see him and I'll know.

As the fire fades into embers, I am handed a steaming cup of tea and told to drink and lie down. Numbly, I do this, and as I lay with my back to the doorway of my tent I look at my sword, shield and polearm that are resting against the wall and I remember why I'm going through the pain of purging the Fel and of changing what I do for a living.

If I'm going to die one day, I want it to be for something - protecting my loved ones, fighting for the Horde, like my father, brother, sister and lover before me. I don't my death to be meaningless.

And as I fall asleep, I swear I can hear those I've lost speaking to me. Perhaps, one day, I'll know what it was that they were saying.]]> Matojo Challenge Forum Mon, 21 Jun 2010 20:44:37 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147128,147128#msg-147128 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147128,147128#msg-147128 Who's ready to dig deep?

Write about death. Your character's, or someone close to them. HAVE FUN! ]]> Benvolio Challenge Forum Mon, 21 Jun 2010 15:22:56 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147029,147029#msg-147029 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,147029,147029#msg-147029
Under a pearl-grey sky, three tauren children loped across the broad Barrens plain, spread out from each other in a small arc. The time just before dawn was best for hunting; when the night creatures were tired and heading for their dens, while the morning creatures were just waking up, not yet fully alert. But tauren weren’t the only predators who knew this secret. All three had ears up, nostrils flared, eyes wide open, scanning their surroundings constantly as they ran making no more noise than the intermittent breeze that rattled dry branches around them.

The child on the left side of the arc, her golden-brown fur standing out against the dusty red landscape, stopped abruptly and held up a hand. The other two paused, still keeping a wary eye out on all sides, then moved forward. The gold tauren crouched, pointing at a track in the dirt, then at a tuft of fur left on a bush. The other two examined both signs closely, then nodded. They began trotting forward again, faster this time, their arc contracted into a sharp wedge, with the gold-furred child leading.

In a few minutes they’d arrived at the edge of a shallow ravine, a crack in the plains where water would flow during the brief rainy season. During the long dry months, all that was left was a short canyon with a stretch of smooth-tumbled rocks at the bottom. It was a perfect place for the diurnal herds of zhevra to sleep at night – huddled next to the wall below an overhand, with a sentry or two awake and watching for danger.

The children peered carefully over the edge, silently evaluating the herd below. A little hesitantly, the grey-furred boy with white spots pointed out one of the zhevra dozing on the outer edge of the herd. After a moment, the other two nodded, and the gold tauren patted him on the back, giving him a brief smile. Unaware of this scrutiny, the animal shifted in its sleep and raised a hind leg, trying to take some weight off the cracked hoof that had caught the children’s attention.

After a quick glance at the sky, the gold-furred tauren pointed at the last of the trio, a dusty red female with a rifle slung over her shoulder. The red tauren flicked her ears questioningly; the gold one pointed at the horizon where the sun would rise, then at the gun. The message was clear: there wasn’t time for finesse. They would risk the sound of her rifle to bring the zhevra down quickly.

Shrugging, the red-furred child unslung her rifle and checked it carefully. The other two spread out, one setting an arrow to his bow while the other readied a long spear. Satisfied that her weapon was in order, the child sighted carefully down into the ravine, at the dozing zhevra. She took a deep breath in, then let it out slowly, and on the tail end of her exhalation, gently squeezed the trigger.

The air seemed to crack with the explosion of her gun firing. The entire herd of zhevra leaped to their feet almost as one beast, screaming in panic, then charging in a mass down the ravine. Staggering behind them, the wounded zhevra struggled desperately, shaking its head as blood poured from the side of its neck. The red-furred tauren frowned as she rapidly removed the spent bullet casing, stashed it carefully in a pouch, then removed another bullet and set it into the chamber. She knew she had to take her time and be careful, or the gun could easily jam, but she didn’t want the wounded zhevra getting away.

As she chambered the second round, an arrow flicked out and pierced the animal’s neck, sending a spurt of steaming blood into the air. The zhevra screamed and collapsed, legs kicking out wildly. The three tauren leaped down into the ravine and advanced on the wounded beast. The child with the spear reached it first and with a quick jab shoved it into the zhevra’s neck, expertly severing the vein and windpipe.

“Kolkar guts,” the red-furred tauren said in disgust as she trotted up, setting the safety on her rifle and slinging it over her shoulder again. “I should have killed it with the first shot.”

“One shot? Adult zhevra usually take at least three arrows to bring down.” The grey-furred male shrugged, then slapped her on the back and grinned. “You ready to give up on the thunder stick and go back to a bow yet?”

“Nah, I’ll check it when we get back to camp, but I think I just missed.” Shrugging, she knelt behind the other female who was already at work with her knife, sectioning the kill quickly and carefully to be wrapped and carried off. “Someday I’m going to bring down a stormsnout with this thing.” She patted the butt of the rifle affectionately before taking out her own knife.

“Let me know when you do, Khydann,” the gold tauren said. “I’ll want to watch. From the top of a rock, a good ways away.” The child with the rifle gave her a playful swat on the shoulder and all three giggled, barely pausing in their tasks.

In a few minutes only a pile of scraps and a patch of blood-soaked dirt remained where the zhevra had fallen. The three children carefully adjusted each other’s packs. Speed would be vitally important as they ran back to the safety of the camp, now that they reeked of blood and were carrying loads of meat, signals sure to attract the attention of every predator in the area. Assuring themselves that they would arrive home with their precious burdens of food intact, they carefully crested the side of the ravine, peered around in the brightening dawn, then took off, hooves pounding across the Barrens plain.]]> elynne Challenge Forum Fri, 18 Jun 2010 09:17:00 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146870,146870#msg-146870 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146870,146870#msg-146870
The midafternoon sun filtered its way through the golden boughs of Eversong Woods, giving off its perfect light and warmth, as always. The wind gently stirred the leaves of the trees where the birds sang their languid melodies, and the nearby river burbled sweetly in its banks. The serenity of it all was almost enough to allow Delacoeur to forget the drafts of sepulchral air that drifted across the river's banks from the Ghostlands. The sin'dorei woman shifted uneasily in the doorframe of the decrepit house where she stood, the only remaining building of the House Sunwhisper estate. The rest was plowed under the Dead Scar and was indistinguishable from the countless other homes similarly destroyed; a bit of red glass here, a tattered piece of priceless parchment there. Dela's eyes passed over the ruins, not focusing on any one thing in particular, simply taking it all in and adding to her growing discomfort.

She didn't like being here. Why her elder brother had suddenly decided to reclaim this scrap of land for the House was beyond her. The house itself was in shambles, and never intended for permanent habitation even in its full glory; it had been used as a study hall in the old days. Since he and Benvolio had moved in, it had only gotten more cluttered: ruined stacks of books covered up by piles of newer ones; chairs repaired and re-covered; a plush mattress with several red pillows laying right on the stone floor; food dishes and little carpets everywhere for all the animals they kept; a small stove Ben used for cooking and Montaigue used to destroy his discarded scribblings. She had offered to permanently put them up in Silvermoon city using the House's funds, but Montaigue had laughed at the idea and said nothing further. He even refused to meet her in the city for these exchanges, saying that it was unsafe. The idea was preposterous to Delacoeur--unsafe?! Silvermoon?! It was clean and beautiful and remote, what could he be thinking?!---but she obliged his wishes, as usual. The meetings happened at the House.

Her ears picked up the sound of Montaigue's talbuk long before he rode into sight. She straightened and stepped out onto the front walk, sparing an uneasy glance at the nearby river as she smoothed her fine red robes and fixed imaginary imperfections in her straight red hair. As her brother reined in on the front lawn and hopped down from his mount, patting it on the rump to send it to graze, she saw her care with her appearance was unnecessary.

Montaigue was over twice Dela's age, and today it truly showed. His robes, cloak, gloves, and shoes were all coated in half-melted ice and snow; he must have hurried here from Icecrown itself. His once-fiery hair had noticeably more white in in than the last time she had seen him, and the fine wrinkles on his face and neck were more pronounced. His eyes were tired and sunken behind his silver half-moon spectacles, and he walked with his left hand on the small of his back, wincing slightly for a moment before standing fully upright as he usually did. He gave his sister a small smile as he approached. “Hello, dearest. Forgive my lateness, would you? Things were...a little rough today.”

“Where's my mace? According to my schedule, you should have earned enough from today's tournament to have purchased one,” Dela replied, a little sharper than she intended. This place really didn't help her frazzled nerves.

Montaigue raised an eyebrow and looked at her for a long moment as he stripped off his frozen gloves, folding them into the pouch at his waist. “Your schedule, hmm? And what if I told you that instead of competing in the tournament today I simply did some work for the Warsong orcs, and then had a lovely lunch with Ben?”

Dela flushed red with anger. “You wouldn't! I'm not paying you to flit around up there with some orcs and court Benvolio! You're supposed to be---”

Montaigue abruptly turned his back on her, pacing slowly towards the well on the side of the house. “Supposed to be doing what, Dela? I am supposed to be doing exactly what I think is best for this House, and I think your little...endeavour...has made you obsessed.”

“It's not a 'little endeavour'!” Dela shouted, stomping her foot and taking a mocking tone on the last two words. “This is...this is, is love and politics, and isn't that what this guild is all about? I know that you've been seeing Melathiel as much as I have, so, so maybe you're just jealous! You don't even have to go that long distance to see her, all the way to dirty Feralas just to be with the one you love! You're---ooooh, you're so spoiled, Monty!”

Her brother stiffened, then slowly turned back to face her. “Spoiled?” he said softly, shadows beginning to cloud his naked wrists and pool at the hem of his robe, spiralling up towards his chest and face. “Spoiled? Delacoeur, you twit. You bratty little bitch.” A chilly fog the colour of a deep bruise now covered him from head to toe, and he slowly stepped towards her.

Dela swallowed her fear, her pounding heart and bloodless face the only outward signs of her terror. She told herself that she was used to this, that her brother was comfortable in the shadows, that they were just his cloak of protection. She forced herself to meet his eyes, sickly green fire in the midst of all that awful blackish-purple, and said, “Don't you call me that. You are spoiled. You get to travel and do whatever you want and make a mess of this nasty old house, and you get to see Ben every day if you want to, and you don't even do that! You are a selfish old coot and I'm tired of having to wait here for you in this awful place just because you say so. I am the Mistress of Finances for this House---don't give me that creepy look, you made me that yourself so you didn't have to do it---and I have assigned three members to complete a task that furthers our goals. Erzullie and even dumb Kjata are good about keeping to schedule, and you're telling me that you were having lunch?!”

The shadow priest stopped advancing towards his sister, but the shadows didn't dissipate. “If I ever hear you call Kjata dumb again, I will strip you of your privileges and send you out to earn your own living like the rest of us. It is our efforts that allow you to live in the lap of the city and take your scented baths and drink your coffee and buy your lovely robes, as you seem to have forgotten. Yes, I agreed to help you earn gear for your darling Melathiel, but it is because she was my friend when we were young, although you seem to have forgotten that as well. Our actions will allow others to build confidence about assisting their friends that petty faction boundaries have separated, and perhaps forge new, more discreet alliances. I---”

Dela cut him off with a shake of her head. “I know all that. I know how important it is to you, you ramble about it all the time! So why are you not delivering, hmm?” She crossed her arms, her righteous anger finally overcoming her fear.

Montaigue simply glared at her, then said in a low growl, “I did deliver, Dela. I suppose I was just hoping for some gratitude, perhaps a nice cup of tea to soothe the cold that seeps into my very bones.” The shadows gradually faded from him, leaving him even more pale and drawn than before. “I respect your love, Dela. I likely see Ben less than you see Mel---perhaps you didn't notice the layer of dust in the house that hasn't been disturbed in weeks? Or did you not even set foot inside?---so I know what it is to pine for love. Do not assume that you are by any means the only one who suffers from their feelings. That, sister dearest, is the very definition of spoiled.”

With that, he took the reins of his talbuk and pulled a highly polished mace and a small red velvet sack of coins from its saddlebags and tossed them at her feet. He mounted up and rode off towards the city without another word.

Delacoeur plopped down on the grass, cradling the mace awkwardly in her lap. Tears sprung to her eyes, much to her embarrassment, and she brushed them away furiously. “He could...he could have just said...well...ohhhh...!” She thought of how happy Mel would be when she brought this to her, how her handsome tattooed face would light up with the gentlest grin, how sweet her kisses would be. She thought of all the times Mel had played with her as a child, and how they had fallen in love as adults, and then been separated by politics. She thought of Mel's soft green hair, of her yelling over a storm on her fishing boat to a terrified Dela, telling her it would all be all right, of her throaty real laughter when Dela had recoiled in horror from a brace of hares Mel had caught for her in the woods.

Mel was worth it, all the fighting. All the toil and hiding. Monty didn't know it, but he WAS spoiled. She told herself this over and over again until the sun no longer filtered through the trees and the cool night soothed her blotchy face and gave her cover to go back home.]]> Erzullie Challenge Forum Tue, 15 Jun 2010 19:21:58 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146790,146790#msg-146790 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146790,146790#msg-146790 Thierry Challenge Forum Tue, 15 Jun 2010 13:20:31 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146456,146456#msg-146456 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146456,146456#msg-146456
It was hot out today. The midday sun beat down on the small little town, the dusty dirt road bleak and barren. Most were inside this time of day, but one such tall, leggy, purple-skinned draenei was outside, leaning against the piece of wood the saloon used as a hitching post. It was shoddily built, and only had one horse attached. It seemed it was a slow day for travellers too.

The draenei sighed, her chest rising and falling, contained in a woven leather vest though it really only served to push her bust up. A pair of shorts were drawn snugly around her waist, a simple belt hanging off her hip. A pouch and a holster was all she had on her, the six-shooter within fully loaded and primed. The beauty didn't look like she was looking for a fight, but out here it helped to be prepared. Flicking out her strandy white hair, she leaned back further, enjoying the warmth.. She was sweating, her skin gleaming underneath the blazing light of the sun. Glad she was for the hat she wore low over her face, a couple of holes for her pointy horns; Kept the sun out of her eyes.

Uproarious laughter was heard from within and the swinging saloon doors burst open to reveal a man, stumbling over himself, his grip clutched tightly around the arm of a pretty young brunette. A flutter of white blouse and flowing skirts passed the lounging woman, the brunette struggling and pulling away from the obviously stronger man. She was mewling and pleading to be released.
"Quit yer caterwaulin' deary. You and I are goin' ta have some fun," the man smiled, his yellow teeth quite the gruesome sight and made the girl cringe.
"No! Let me go!" she cried out, struggling with even greater fervour, which really only made the man tug harder.

"I believe the lady said no."
The burly man froze, peering from under his fancy rimmed black hat in the direction of the voice. He reeked of scotch and it took him a moment to focus.
"What?"
"I said, 'I believe the lady said no'" the purple-skinned woman crooned lazily, lifting her hat up with her finger to focus a white, pupiless eye on him.
"What is it any business of yours, goat-girl?" the man spat, an obvious affront to her hooves and horns. The name caused the woman to chuckle lightly.
"It is my business when you're manhandling one of my girls," A wry grin appeared on her face, her hand drifting down to her hip, at the ready. Not a threatening gesture, but to any trained gunslinger, it was a clear signal.
"Look goat, I donnot care if she's yours. I'm goin' ta have my fun whether you like it or not," he growled, tightening his grip which caused the brunette to yelp in pain.

That sound was enough for the draenei to straighten, though she still kept her relaxed demeanour, grinning with her hand still on her hip. She stepped forward, hooves thumping in the dirt.
"I think you're going to let her go."
"No, I ain't." the man tried to stand taller, appear more menacing but as drunk as he was, the motion wasn't as intimidating as he hoped. The draenei just shook her head.
"Draw."
"What?"
With lightning reflexes, the draenei's revolver was in her hand and two shots were fired, shooting the man in the chest and the throat. He stumbled back then fell, spread eagled on the dusty dirt road. The young girl blinked in surprise for a moment before throwing herself at the draenei holding the smoking gun.
"Oh Miss Lystaa, I'm so happy we have you to protect us!" she cooed, cuddling herself up to the taller woman's side. Lystaa smiled and patted the girl's rump affectionately.
"You get on inside. I'm going to leave our friend here to the buzzards. You can... thank me later."
The girl giggled and nodded, lifting her flowing skirts and scurrying inside. Lystaa watched her disappear into the shady saloon before she reached down to drag the fancy-coated man to the outskirts of town, taking a moment to rifle through his pockets for his hefty gold pouch. She's now had some extra coin to gamble away.
Oh, and she'd have to tell Sappy he has another horse for the stables.]]> Lystaa Challenge Forum Sun, 06 Jun 2010 23:41:49 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146443,146443#msg-146443 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146443,146443#msg-146443
There was a sudden yell from the other side of the door before it swung open, slamming on the wall behind it. Two elves emerged, one after the other. The first elf looked angrily at the other behind him, who looked timidly back. The boy jumped in his seat, then pressed closer against his mother.

"Lord, I understand your reasoning but there are rules-"

"Damn the rules! I want my son in those classes now!"

The second elf, younger then the first, straightened up and scowled. "And I've told you time and time again he is still too young! Now unless you wish to discuss something pleasant I must ask to take my leave, as I have other business to attend to!" He spun on his heel and returned back the other room, slamming the door closed behind him. The first elf looked as if he was about to do something drastic, and then as suddenly as he had appeared, he calmed down and smoothed out his robe, turning and smiling at the pair watching him.

"I surmise this means we will just have to continue the lessons at home, now won't we?"

The boy stared back with terrified eyes, but the most he could do was nod. "Yes Sir..."

"And you will try much harder, won't you?"

The older elf stared down at the boy, who was about to cry. "Y-Yes sir!" The elf nodded, satisfied, and started walking, the boy's mother standing and following suite, dragging her reluctant child behind her. Still clinging to her wrist, the boy tried his best to stay behind his mother's billowing skirts, so that he had someplace to hide, even if his mother was indifferent to his plight.]]> Silvyn Challenge Forum Sun, 06 Jun 2010 22:25:08 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146288,146288#msg-146288 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146288,146288#msg-146288
Keola had a good relationship with every one of the members of Guardian, especially the officers. They had all looked out for her as Xethra’s ward beyond Xethras wishes. Keola was a part of Guardian now, a big one – she was their main healer now, and ascended to Xethras primary consort after the betrayal of Seton. She hardly needed looking out for anymore, but being an ever coveted medic…perhaps it was just habit. Most of the everyday runnings of the guild were still handled by Xethra, but the field work was taken care of primarily by Devesh and Mirrass. Xethra occasionally stepped in to wield her authority where it was needed, with Keola being the little messenger girl.

She now knew every corner and crevice of the Citadel, every trick of the Coliseum, and could counter virtually every malignancy into the madness of Ulduar. Keola had become a very powerful druid in a very short time. She had grown into a strong girl – woman now. She was grown, with a mate, she was a woman. Keola still wasn’t used to thinking of herself in that way. But now standing before Xethra, beside her fellow officers of Guardian, being stared down as if she were a steer for slaughter...Keola hardly felt the confident being that she had become.

Heading the line of scrimmage was Devesh. He was extra large and scarred for a Tauren, and never spoke of his service to the Lich King. He was an ever loyal member of the guild probably somehow related to Horarz, and usually a silly one. Humor could have been a defense mechanism, but there was one hardly more reliable than Devesh. Just having him take those two steps ahead of the group, hefting his huge axes, ready to defend to his death…no one could deny his presence was a breath of confidence. Xethra had been immediately suspicious of the Death Knight like everyone else, but now they could hardly imagine a crusade without him.

Beside Devesh was another strong Tauren bull, the steadfast and tactical commander Mirrass. He exuded peace and tranquility like any other deeply imbued and trained shaman. He was the level headed voice of reason whenever lids had been flipped, and was usually the one breaking up the venomous beratings before they even happened. Mirrass had done most of the battle plans for their expeditions into the Icecrown Citadel, with careful treading and collaboration with Devesh. His depth of knowledge was vast and he was forever researching, studying, and analyzing the enemy.

Keola stood immediately to Mirass’ right and beside the childish assassin, Destiney Giver. Despite his youth, Destiney was as experienced as they rest of them. He never stepped forward to be as strong a commanding presence as the others, but his silliness and his deadly stealth were an important part of the equation still. He was one of the few people in the entire world who could get away with pestering and annoying Xethra to the point of murder…and somehow avoid her wrath. Perhaps they had some kind of understanding, seeing as the both of them were afflicted Forsaken.

Bringing up the end of the line, the newest but certainly not the weakest officer to Guardian’s line up was the brash, egotistical, ruthless hunter Koden. Koden was very much full of pride like any other Orc. Sometimes, perhaps a little too proud. His prowess as a hunter was known across the lands, and he was another member who would be loyal to Guardian to the death. His wolf, as stupid as the creature was, shared his masters’ zeal. Always alert and carrying out his duties without questions, he was a reflection of Koden’s loyalty and passion as well. Currently, he was sniffing around Destineys crotch, suspicious of something or other. Destineys death grip on his poisoned dagger did not deter the creature as Koden hid a smug smirk behind his huge helm. Destiney’s silliness seemed to be rubbing off at the wrong time, as usual.

“Our progress seems to have stymied.” Xethra said, tapping at her chin. “We need more experienced soldiers. Keola and Devesh especially are tiring.” With that, Xethra launched into a short status of the other main soldiers in the guild’s order, with varying good and bad news for each.

“I’m fine, Miss Xethra.” Keola spoke up during one of the warlock’s pauses. “I don’t need a break. I make sure that I’m rested for every run.”

“Leigheas will be back with us shortly. “

“No need to rush him back into duty,” Keola said, stealing a glance to Mirrass on her left.

“Both crusades need experienced healers. If he is fit, he will be on the line.” Xethra said, leaning back against her desk. “If you continue to sleep for days, I will remove you from service.”

“I was fighting off a cold, I am better now.” Keola said, picking at a small fray on her leather belt.

“I can’t have you holding the team back. I am sure a week off will be good. Geranguas will take you somewhere to rest.”

“Ger goes with Devesh and Mirrass into the Citadel. He won’t really be happy about being told he can’t go, and you need more people for the team. I won’t stand back.“

“Are you trying to defy me?” Xethra stood up, visibly angered judging by her unusually stiff posture.

“We can work something out to give Keola time to rest this week,” Mirrass said. “I am sure it would do her well.”

Xethra didn’t seem to hear him, her gaze hard on Keola. “It would be wise for you to do as I say.”

“Miss Xethra, I don’t think we can afford it. We’re so close to the Lich King…we can’t just give up now.” Keola pleaded, hands clasped before her.

“I’m not asking you to give up. I am telling you that you need to rest.” Xethra said.

“I’m not going home, I’m going with the rest of the team into the Citdael,” Keola said simply.

“You will do as you’re told.” Xethra said, her slight form almost shaking now with rage.

“I think it’s time that we left, ma’am.” Devesh said brightly. “Unless there is anything else?”

Xethra waved him off. “Dismissed. Not you, Druid.”

Keola looked down at the floor, suddenly full of fear as the other officers shuffled out. Xethra was not in a good mood, if she was beyond familiar pleasantries. Destiney gave her a pat on the arm as he passed, as if reassuring her. As soon as Koden was through the door, Xethra yanked it shut loudly and turned to fix her fel glare upon the younger woman.

“What. Was.That.About.” Xethra barked.

“I just don’t think-“

“I don’t really care what you think.” Xethra spat, clenching her fists in rage. “I will not lose you, or any other member of this team. I will order Geranguas to lock you up, if I have to.”

“He wouldn’t do it,” Keola said slowly. “At least he trusts me-“

“It’s not a matter of trust!” Xethra screeched. She launched herself forward to attempt to frighten Keola, but succeeded only in hopping around on her tip-toes in an attempt to scream in her face. “It’s a matter of survival. You never were very good at looking out for yourself. Why do you think I tolerate Geranguas?”

“I was just fine before I met Ger!”

“Only you would call rolling around in bed with an elf ‘fine’. “ Xethra mocked.

“People make mistakes,” Keola said, turning her head to the side to stare at the wall.

“Of course you do,” Xethra said, finally turning to throw herself down into the large chair behind her cluttered, oversized work desk. The tiny office was just as small and sparse as Xethra’s own apartment, and just as confining at times.

“I don’t want to take the potions anymore, either.” Keola said quickly, turning her gaze the floor.

She was prepared for the verbal onslaught, or for things to be thrown at her. A book, quills, shadow bolts, something…but the silence was eerie. Keola blinked and counted slowly to ten before trailing her eyes up the desk to Xethra’s frozen stare.

“What brought this on?” Xethra said slowly, fighting to control herself.

“I just am not sure what exactly is it they are, or why I’m drinking them. I mean, I think I know…but I really don’t see why you are so worried about me when I should think about me on my own, and just kinda deal with things as they come at me instead of being all paranoid about stuff all of the time.” Keola rambled a little.

“I suppose you thought it up yourself. “ Xethra surmised.

“I really did.” Keola said, looking back down at the floor again.

“Do you know what may happen to you? Your career? Or this guild if you cease the treatments?” Xethra asked, standing with both hands flat on her desk.

Keola shook her head ‘no’, glancing at her matron…she was very glad the large desk was still between the two.

“Knowing you, and the eyes you bat at your mate…you would end up with child. Sooner than later.” Xethra said, tossing one arm out in some angry gesture. “You can’t expect to keep up a full pace. Not in that condition. Not for very long. Even if I let you, one day Geranguas would step up. True, you would not be with child long.”

“But!” Xethra barked for emphasis. “Then comes the care of a child. I’m no babysitter. None of us are. You will be at home, with the child. Watching the skies. Hoping we come home. And the day we don’t…you will forever wonder if it was because of you.”

“I don’t even know if that’s possible, with someone like Ger.” Keola murmured.

“You would rather tank the chance?”

“I think I would.”

Xethra threw herself down into her chair again, burying her face in her hands. Keola fixed her gaze on the floor again.

“You are so stupid." Xethra murmured. "Fucking stupid. You always have been.”

“Then when you retire you won’t make me guild leader.”

“Who else?” Xethra asked quietly.

“I can think of a lot of people who would make a better leader than me.”

“It would be you. How you delegated things after that is up to you.”

“Miss Xethra,” Keola started, and then sighed. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me really I do but…I don’t think I can be what you need me to be.”

“I suppose I have made my own mistakes.” Xethra grumbled. “You will make a fine leader for Guardian. When the time is right, of course. If you take what you learn from me, and your fellow members, seriously.”

“I do! I swear upon the Earthmother, I do!” Keola choked, pausing to rub the tears from her eyes. “I just want…I just…want you to trust me too, Miss Xethra. I want you to trust me as much as I trust you, and as much as you trust everyone else in Guardian. I’ve done everything that I can to try to make you happy and it’s never good enough. Why am I not good enough for you? What have I done wrong?”

Keola covered her face in shame when Xethra turned away from her. She couldn’t help the tears streaming freely down her muzzle, couldn’t hold her breath to stifle the sobs. She felt confined and restricted as she always did in Xethra’s presence. So much…that she didn’t notice when the tiny warlock pulled Keola down to her to wrap her in a surprisingly tender embrace.

“I do.” Xethra said. “I do trust you. I still worry.”

Keola burst out into wailing, crying buckets of tears, gripping Xethra to her as she bawled. Tears of fear, joy, fright…she didn’t know. Xethra for once just held her.

Keola finally pulled away and wiped at her eyes again, staring at the lapel on Xethra’s robe rather than at her face. “T-t-thanks. I’m ok.”

“Look. I am not going to go easy on you. But I won’t make you do anything that you don’t want to.” Xethra said, trying to seem aloof with her arms crossed over her chest. “But I will tell you when I disagree.”

Keola smiled shakily. “That’s fine. That’s ok. I think I need it sometimes. Thank you so much..I’m sorry…”

“Just be alright? Maybe you should find Geranguas, spend some time with him.” Xethra said between gritted teeth.

“No, he’ll be fine as long as I am home on time.” Keola said, giving Xethra one more brief hug. “I think I will go make a new friend…”]]> Keola Challenge Forum Tue, 15 Jun 2010 13:56:17 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146154,146154#msg-146154 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,146154,146154#msg-146154
~

“Haha, I donno! Ask Ben what he thinks.”

Benvolio blinked. The crowd at the Kodo had dwindled down to those who sat around the small fire, chattering about this and that. As usual, Ben had been half-listening, dozing, pondering quietly. Several pairs of familiar eyes blinked at him.

First to speak was Ceirin, who smirked at him, stretching out her booted legs. “It’s your turn, Ben, well?”

Finwë leaned over, refilling Benvolio’s wineglass from a bottle in his hand. “They were talking about loyalty, Precious,” he murmured helpfully.

“Oh! Loyalty! Like…you mean. What I’m loyal to. Where my loyalties lie?” He gazed around the group. “That’s right, right?” Several pairs of eyes moved up and down, heads nodding encouragingly. “Uhm.”

Montaigue. Delacoeur, Erzullie. Thierry. Oraea. All of them. The others in the house. House Sunwhisper itself, or what was left of it. What it would be. The waterstained books. The waterfall. The brown patches on the grass where the fires had been made. Staying up all night with friends. Staying up all night with just one person. The cats. And the birds. And the little raptor and Rosie the puppy. The cats would lay on any pillow that was available. They hated getting kicked out of bed. Mina most of all. Little Chuck. His six little feet. And he had a mother. Stories. Loud cheers. Quiet murmurs. Sunrise in Nagrand. Sunset in Silvermoon. Midnight in Nagrand. All the studies yet to finish. Winning at the Joust. That white hawkstrider. He’d already named it. Paravani. Riding through the jungle. Through the woods. Everyone that asked him for help. Being a teacher. Being a guide. Being at the front. Sometimes they would say, ‘you’re my savior,’ ‘you’re an angel, I think.’ Sometimes the people he saved wrote him letters. He kept them hidden in with some glyphs. Keeping secrets. Opening the twins' minds. When everyone wore their house colours, just to be proud. Parties. Bourbon that was so sweet it tasted like maple syrup and made his head spin. Cake. Laughter. Stealing a kiss in a dangerous place. Working on research in bed together. Rides on Zullie’s bike. Finwë’s dirty jokes. Thierry’s pumpkin soup. Delacoeur’s cause. Aunt Portia’s coffee ice cream. The hammock in Eversong Woods. The sun on the leaves. The sun on his skin. Water. White gems. Green eyes. Breath. His own. The breath of others. The Light. Love.

Ben blinked, fidgeted. “Uhm…the House, I guess.” Bit his thumbnail. “Friends, uhm. Family, and all that.”

The group accepted the answer politely. “Okay, who’s next?”

Ben smiled.]]> Benvolio Challenge Forum Sat, 29 May 2010 05:12:30 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145920,145920#msg-145920 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145920,145920#msg-145920
In other words, let's hear about your characters if they lived in that time period.

-Tolrath/Maranwe]]> Renzojuken Challenge Forum Fri, 21 May 2010 11:38:32 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145908,145908#msg-145908 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145908,145908#msg-145908 Begin recording twenty six.

What a small thing is, one's loyalty. And how easily purchased, and how seemingly easily given away.

The matter with the Kor'kron is, as it stands, a matter of inconvenience brought on by a traitor and his uncleared plans. Are we, the Forsaken, loyal to an occupying force who seeks only to belittle us and our officiates? We may seem so. But it is a matter of intelligence. Those of us who tend to enjoy unlife as we unlive it wish to continue doing so ... so we salute the Kor'kron, and take their ill wishes and their taunting for the time being.

They will become bored of us.

As, the thing is, the Orcs have a terribly short memory - as they have a terribly short life span. For the Forsaken - we take the long view - when they are long dead and gone, we will still unlive on, as it were, carrying on without them .... as they will become dust they will be but memories, and their actions become history, as we continue to make our own.

So, as it continues, loyalty remains a small thing. Easily bought and turned over to one thing or another, conveniently shown and displayed as fealty to this and that, as long as one remains true to one's standing: Oneself. One's cause. One's people.

History will forget the era of the Kor'kron; however, the Forsaken will endure.

End recording.

[END RECORDING]

((From the LJ Posting at: [blindmachine.livejournal.com]))]]> Caeryn Challenge Forum Fri, 21 May 2010 02:54:04 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145892,145892#msg-145892 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145892,145892#msg-145892
"Cat, hi-IIIIIEEEE!"

The greeting died, and the smile with it, all the color draining from her face as she stared at the sole occupant of the kitchen and screeched in something that bordered on terror. It wasn't Cat who was pulling a loaf of freshly-baked bread from the oven, it was something that haunted Mira's nightmares. An elven man, handsome in his way, but much more thin and gaunt than she recalled him, with long chestnut hair in a loose ponytail, and worst of all, a jagged, gnarled scar across his throat.

"Please, don't..." he began, but Mira shot at him with a sudden fury and a flurry of wild punches.

"GET OUT! Getoutgetoutgetout! I swear to the Dragonqueen I'll skin you alive..."

He didn't even raise his hands to defend himself, weathering the blows stoically, and freezing as he looked over her shoulder. "Please, stop, I swear upon my life I'm not..."

Despite her smaller size, Mira might well have bowled him over into the hearth if Cat hadn't swept into the room at that moment and placed a hand gently, but commandingly, on her shoulder. "Stop it, Mira. He's not going to hurt you." Taking advantage of the younger woman's stunned silence, she turned to the man and smiled, though the smile was pained. "Aerien, I think this might be a good time for you to go for a walk while I talk to her."

"Yes, I suppose it would," Aerien replied, and he bowed slightly. "Mira, I'm sorry. I swear to you I am. Cat, I'll be in the Exchange."

Mira stared in disbelief as he left the room. The heavy thud of the front door closing behind him seemed to snap her out of her shock. As quick as the flash of lightning, she whirled, her fist leading the way, a swift uppercut catching Cat in the jaw and sending her sprawling.

"WHAT THE FEL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" she bellowed, snatching Cat up by the heavy Northrend robes she hadn't had time yet to take off and shaking the taller woman like a ragdoll. "Him? _HIM?_ How could you... how could you have _him_ here after what he did...? Cat, he took me away, he drugged me, he meant to force me into..."

"I know." Cat said, cool but sympathetic, carefully detaching Mira's hands from her clothes and steadying herself on her feet once more. "I _know_ what he did, Mira. And do you know what came of him for it? Do you know what he suffered in vengeance for that crime?"

"IT WASN'T ENOUGH!" Mira shrieked in response. Instead of a punch, this time the loud crack of an open-handed slap rang out as Cat made no effort to dodge it. "I don't care what it was, Cat, it wasn't enough, it could never be enough... he should have a hundred scars like that one, and worse!"

"That scar Kareth gave him is the least of it. His family disowned him," Cat said, matter-of factly. "He was excommunicated from the Order and fell away from the Light. Mother very nearly murdered him. That brand your friend's compatriots left him with after they finished taking their own hatred of men out on him means he'll never be safe in any city of the Alliance again, so long as he lives. He knew no one on our side who didn't want to hurt him for what he'd done to you. He has no home, no money, no family, no friends, no rank, no work, and that's only the beginnings of it. Believe you me, he has suffered deeply enough to satisfy even you."

Shaking her head in denial, Mira was by now reduced to frightened, angry tears. "Never! He'll never suffer enough, and now you're protecting him? How _could_ you, Cat? You're my sister, how could you _do_ this to me? How could you ever know if he's suffered enough?" With a wail of grief, she balled up a furious fist and prepared to strike Cat again, but suddenly found that she could not. Her body simply would not respond to her commands, and she stood helpless for a moment. She wanted to howl with rage, at least until Cat's next words stopped her cold.

Cat's voice was cool and calm, the dangerous sort that had over the decades of their lives always meant she was on the verge of losing her temper as well. "Because, _little_ sister. I wanted my piece of him too. I tracked him, night and day, for weeks." She stepped closer, tense with the effort of holding back Mira's desire to assault her, forcing her younger sister to listen raptly to every word. "And then I found him, and then I placed my own curse on him." As she spoke, the shadows of the room roiled and twisted, slipping in to surround her, to embrace her. Her own form began to take on a darker tone, to become insubstantial, but abruptly she released the spell and turned her back.

"You... what?" Mira merely stared now, not sure what to make of this person, who was her sister but was for a moment completely unlike any Cat she'd ever known. When had Cat gotten so strong, and more to the point, when had she gotten so ruthless?

"You'd be surprised, Mira, the torment that can be inflicted on a man by means of a simple mental command. It takes a great deal of effort to hold someone still when they want with all their being to hit you in the face..." Here, Cat smirked slightly, almost playfully. "...and very little to convince a sleeping soul that if by their actions, or inactions, any woman should ever come to even the most minute sort of harm, they will experience in _excruciating_ detail every moment of every torment they ever suffered in consequence of a particular crime, amplified tenfold."

Cat shook her head and sighed. "It was too much, Mira, no matter what you may think now, in your anger. I left him like that... unable to even scrape out a living as a thief on the street. I meant to punish him, but I pushed it too far... and I won't let you do the same, and stain your soul with blood or murder."

Gritting her teeth, Mira glared at her sister as she tried to digest it all. "You... you did that... and now you think _because_ of that, you can just lord it over me? You think you still know what's best for me, what's right for me..."

"No," Cat corrected. "I know what's right in my heart, and after hours... months of meditation and prayer. I'm not saying what he did to you was in any way excusable or acceptable... but there must be balance. Justice requires retribution... but when a soul may be saved, when someone who has strayed from the Light may be set back on the path, it is my _duty_ to do so."

She dropped into a chair at the kitchen table and sighed softly. "I went too far in punishment, out of love and outrage... we all did... and now there must be mercy. I could not leave a broken man, who once wielded the Light as I myself did and still do when the need calls, to starve on the street, unable to so much as defend himself from attack without falling to the ground to weep in torment. Aerien is redeemable... I did him a great wrong, and it is my duty to set it right, in the name of justice and balance and compassion."

"B... by letting him _live_ in your _house_?" Mira sputtered, her ire calmed somewhat, but still not entirely able to wrap her mind around what she was hearing. "Here? And not even telling me? If you hadn't been home, I might have... might have..."

"I meant to tell you _before_ you found him here. I thought there was time, since you come to the city so infrequently. I was wrong, and I am sorry."

Mira flopped into the other chair, running a hand back through the wild red tangle of her hair. She remained silent for long minutes, her face hidden in her hands, before she spoke without looking up. "I don't like it, Cat. I don't trust him. Seeing him there was like one of my nightmares come to life."

"You don't have to like it, Mira, and you don't have to trust him," Cat replied, though she sighed. "The only thing I ask you to do is trust _me_. I see a spark of the Light still in him, and I think I can fan that spark back to a flame, set right what went wrong." Her expression hardened, and the shadows flickered. "And if I am wrong on that account, then I will take any necessary measures myself to prevent him from being a danger to anyone else, ever again. This time, if it becomes necessary, I will do it quickly and without further suffering."

Mira's eyes widened slightly at the implication - it was the first time she'd ever seen Cat threaten someone's life outside the boundaries of the battlefield - and she still wasn't thrilled with the idea, but she nodded. "Alright, Cat. But if he comes anywhere near me without you..."

"He won't." Gesturing toward an empty teapot that sat on the table, Cat smiled faintly, and reached out to push one of Mira's thin braids behind her ear. "I promise you that. Now... why don't I make us some tea, and you can tell me what you and dear Jai have been up to..."]]> Mira Challenge Forum Thu, 20 May 2010 22:01:26 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145851,145851#msg-145851 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145851,145851#msg-145851
Every shifting shadow in the morning light of the Barrens made the hunter look twice as she slowly, cautiously made her way through to Fray Island. A large bird suddenly fluttered out of a nearby tree and Ceirin jumped, reaching instinctively for her bow with her left hand, then paused as she felt the bullet still stuck in her left shoulder and cursed quietly under her breath. "Stupid birds. False alarm, 'Lor, let's keep movin'." The huge cat at her side rumbled low in his throat and set off ahead.

Ceirin quickened her pace as they drew closer to the island, her right hand hovering near the handle of one of the axes hanging at her hips, eyes constantly scanning the landscape for signs of any more Alliance as she tried not to think too hard about what would happen if she did run into them. Alone, only half-armored, worn, and already injured from her previous encounter, she would likely be an easy enough mark despite the healing she'd received. There just wasn't enough left in her to fight and quite possibly not enough to get away successfully, and she was well aware. As the pair came close enough for the island to be in sight she broke into a jog, ignoring her body's complaints in her eagerness to reach their destination, only slowing as they hit the shallow water and began to wade out.

She sighed in relief as the pair finally reached the barracks and sat down outside. Enelor curled up next to her, head lifted to continue watching as Ceirin unhooked one of the axes from her belt, pulled a rag from her pack and began to wipe the blood off its blade, the blood of the human who had helped kill her unitmate. The cat sniffed at it and growled. "Calm down, he's dead," she murmured. "That one's not gonna be shooting anything else." He fell silent, apparently satisfied, and continued to keep watch as his master finished giving her weapon a cursory cleaning. Ceirin leaned back against the building and immediately wished she hadn't, hissing as she flinched forward at the pain in her burned back. The cat rumbled in concern, eyeing her worriedly, and she slowly unclenched her teeth and took in a long, calming breath. "M'fine, 'Lor, don't worry. Just my stupid ass being dumb, you oughta be used to that by now."

Enelor growled, glancing at her inquisitively, and the hunter nodded. "Yeah, we got the mage too." Another, sounding angry and predatory, and another nod from the hunter. "When I'm back in armor? You bet your ass we're goin' hunting. If there's any more lurking around out here they're gonna regret tangling with Horde in their own damn territory. Any of 'em outside Ratchet have gone and made themselves more than fair game." Ceirin spat on the ground and hauled herself to her feet unsteadily. "Keep watch, 'Lor. I'll be inside."

He sat up attentively, keeping a close eye on the hunter 'til she was out of sight, then returned to his duty. Hunting would come later. For now, his duty was to protect his master.]]> Elryck Challenge Forum Thu, 20 May 2010 18:37:05 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145817,145817#msg-145817 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145817,145817#msg-145817
Morning. It was hard to tell it was morning in the dull light in Icecrown sometimes, but Lystaa knew it was morning. Blinking her white eyes open, she stared at the canvas of her tent-roof for several long moments before rolling over to her side with a groan. She hurt all over, bruises and scrapes littering her body that hadn't fully healed from yesterday's fighting. Although she had no powers of her own, she was glad for the cleansing Light the Paladins of the Argent Crusade wielded. Her brothers and sisters in arms had kept her alive another day.

Lystaa willed herself to sit up, swinging her hooves to rap against the wooden planks laid down to cover the snow. It was cold, but she didn't pay that any mind other than a shiver as it crawled up her flesh. Reaching for a pile of discarded platemail, she began the complicated procedure of getting herself armoured; Through time though, Lystaa could do this with practised ease.

As she worked up the clasps and buckles of her greaves, she caught the shine of red and white out the corner of her eye. Her shield was propped up against a nearby stool, her vicious blade laying across the top. She wasn't paying attention to the sword though, it was the metal husk that she was staring at.

It was the simplicity of the shield that made it beautiful. The end was curved into a point and a broad arch circled the top. It was a bright white with red trim around the edges, the symbol of the Argents painted on the centre. It was scuffed and worn with age and use, but it still was useful, still functional for its purpose.

It hadn't occurred to the draenei before, but that shield represented much for her. A steely defence. An iron will. A bastion against the elements and outside forces. A protective friend. A treasured ally. No matter what challenges she faced, despite the odds, she knew one thing she could count on no matter what was the red and white shield strapped to her arm.

It always took a little longer to dress herself without help, but Lystaa was eventually decked horn to hoof in gleaming white armour. She pulled her tabard over her head, then smoothed out her white hair before hiding it beneath her helm. Her sword was clipped to her belt and she reached for the shield that lay passive. Taking it in her hands, she looked at it for several seconds before a smile graced her features.

This was what she lived for. This is what helped keep her alive.]]> Lystaa Challenge Forum Tue, 18 May 2010 15:38:49 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145812,145812#msg-145812 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145812,145812#msg-145812
I've finally come up with an idea for a challenge, and if it's been done before, I apologize! This just means you'll have to be creative twice (or repost, and I'll never know).

THE CHALLENGE IS: If two characters that you play (main and alt, two mains, two alts, whatever!) got into a fight, how would it go down? What would it be about? Could they resolve it? Let 'er rip!]]> Erzullie Challenge Forum Wed, 19 May 2010 09:11:20 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145803,145803#msg-145803 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145803,145803#msg-145803
While the Tauren was thinking, the Orc shifted his feet, almost undetectably minute a change, and lunged. Only ingrained training saved the Tauren as he shifts his shield between him and the lunging Orc, using his opponents momentum to toss him bodily over him. The Orc lands heavily on his back and the Tauren moves before the Orc can react. Using his shield, he pins the Orc to the ground and quickly wrenches the daggers from his hands.

“What do you want of me, green skin?” the Tauren asks.

“Your head, traitor.”

“I have betrayed no one willingly. Who sent you?”

“You'd love to know, wouldn't you? Scum like you shouldn't be allowed to survive. You have no ability to know what loyalty is.” the Orc answers, spitting on the Tauren's face.

“What do you know of loyalty, if you blindly follow orders, unquestioningly? Loyalty is only owed to those who earn it. And one who would send an assassin against another is not likely to be one who deserves my loyalty. My loyalty is to my friends, few though they are. You, I think, do not know true loyalty, but confuse it with Duty. Perhaps I should send you packing to your masters, and let you face the shame of failure, but that, I think, will not send a strong enough message.”

“Hah! You think you scare me? You could have killed me already, cow, but you haven't. You are as weak as you are pathetic.”

The Tauren's white eyes flare with anger as he presses mightily on the shield, the Orc squirming and trying to fight off the much stronger Tauren.

“Asphyxiation is a rough way to go, Orc. It can take awhile, but more time for you to feel the cracking of your bones and to let you think. I do not wish you any harm personally, despite your ignorance. Perhaps not all Orcs have changed from the way they were in Gul'dan's time, and if that is so, I am doing this world a favor, no matter how despicable it is to have to kill a supposed ally.”

The Orc's only response is a forced gasping, his lungs clawing for air.

“Perhaps if your masters see fit to raise you, or question your spirit, you can deliver a message for me. Tell them that I owe loyalty to no one. I have given it freely to a select few, and that is all. If they continue to send more assassins after me, they will meet the same fate as you.” the Tauren says anger etching the lines in his face. “Perhaps you have had enough, you will surely die of your wounds before long.”

Rising, the Tauren affixes his shield to a strap across his back and sheathes his sword. As he turns to walk from the clearing, the Orc manages the strength to sit up and utter a dying epitaph

“The Horde does not welcome the Alliance into it's ranks, despite how they appear Gnome. You will die, and it will be at the hands of loyal agents of the Horde.”

((Edited to fix some spelling))]]> Brumboldt Challenge Forum Tue, 15 Jun 2010 21:50:10 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145796,145796#msg-145796 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145796,145796#msg-145796
"You ask about loyalty like you can only have loyalty to one thing. It's not like that. That's not what loyalty is." She speaks quietly as she takes a soft cloth and soap and patiently washes the squirming child. Though she smiles, and murmurs comfortingly to the child, there's still a hard, bitter edge to her voice when she continues, and she studiously avoids eye contact. "Loyalty is so much more. It's more, even, than just keeping your word... loyalty is only giving your word when you truly mean to keep it."

Shaking her head, hissing the words through a forced smile as she scrubs the tiny hooves, she speaks more freely now, the words and thoughts flowing in a continual stream.

"What do you want me to say? That my loyalty is to Silvermoon? Damn Silvermoon and everyone in it. When has Silvermoon ever shown any loyalty to the people who gave everything they had to defend it, even when that meant they had to defend it from itself?

To the Horde? Yes... I have loyalty to the Horde, to the Warchief in particular. Thrall is a great and a wise leader, and what he wants for the orcs, I think, is what all of us with any sense and any heart would want for our people. A safe home, free from persecution, the chance to make amends for the evils of our past leadership and determine our own course for the future. I have great loyalty to his vision, and his hopes. A world like the one he hopes for would be a world, I think, where I could finally settle down."

Supporting the small head with one hand, she leans the child back with precise care, and sets about the gentle and cautious process of washing the thick mane without getting soap into the baby's eyes. "To the children... always. The odds are, I'll never have kids of my own. I've buried one, and I'm not likely to ever have another, but that's a whole other story in itself. One war after another after another... there are so many who have no one. They need someone to look after them, to feed them and clothe them and make sure they have a place that's warm and safe to call home, and someone to just be here and show them that someone cares."

Pouring warm water over the baby's head, she rinses away the soap, then plucks the child from the water and wraps her in a thick towel, drying the fur and mane vigorously. "To my tribe, my chieftain, my..." Here, she pauses a little, as if making up her mind, before she finally speaks a single word in heavily accented Taurahe. "...lifemate..." She tilts her head as she towels off the child. "Yes. I worked hard for the right to be one of the Emberhorn, I earned my place, and I will be damned to the furthest dark reaches of the Nether before I ever turn my back on any one of them... my Jai above all others, because he was the only one, in the years since we Sin'dorei became part of the Horde, who showed any real loyalty to me."

With practiced hands, she dresses the child once more, then cradles the infant tenderly in her arms as she finishes. "Loyalty... is heart. Where your heart lies, your loyalty will follow. My heart is with the tribe, with these children, with the hope for something better for all of us, so if I must be loyal to something... then you can say that those are the things I'm loyal to. And if anyone has a problem with that... that's just too bad. That's loyalty too, sticking to your word and your heart in the face of difficulty. Some people just never grasp that part."

The last words she spits out bitterly, but the emotion vanishes as quickly as it's there, replaced by a placid calm and a sweet smile as she rocks the child in her arms and makes her way back out to the common room, humming an old Thalassian lullaby. "Now, if you'll excuse me... I promised the little ones a story, and you wouldn't want me to break my promise, would you?"]]> Mira Challenge Forum Tue, 18 May 2010 14:23:00 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145782,145782#msg-145782 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145782,145782#msg-145782 Do feel free to comment!

Here are the responses that I have done in this thread so far:
Home
Treasured]]> Trinda Challenge Forum Tue, 18 May 2010 13:58:27 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145780,145780#msg-145780 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145780,145780#msg-145780
“What's the matter Frank,” the Tauren says with a laughing snort, “too cold for you?”

The only answer is a soft trumpeting from the mammoth as they continue on their way.

Long hours pass as they continue in relative silence until the sun is sending long slanting rays between the mountain peaks. Moving with practiced ease, the Tauren climbs up the side of Frank and expertly unties a large satchel. Vaulting down, he lays the bundle in the snow, untying the thick cords holding it shut. He assembles three large poles from the satchel and plants them into the snow making a lopsided pyramid over which he drapes a canvas tarp. Securing the tarp he stands up and looks at the tent with a snort, condensed breath drifting from his nose as he does.

“You know Frank, that's a lot bigger tent than I used to use. That thing is big enough for me and Urir to both use. But. Eh. This is the way things are now.”

Frank lifts another satchel from his saddle and deftly hands it to the Tauren using his trunk, accompanied by a self congratulating trumpet. Smiling to himself the Tauren sets the satchel onto the ground and sets about getting the fire started.

By the time the fire is causing dancing shadows to assault the small camp, the sun has went its merry way leaving the sky the domain of countless stars, the two moons, and endless possibilities. From inside the tent, his head toward the fire, the Tauren grumbles as he thinks to himself. Frank lays near the fire and trumpets softly, as if reading the Tauren's mind.

“You know Frank. I have seen many things in my life. Horrible, wonderful, despicable, awe-inspiring, I have seen the gamut. And I thought the accident was one of the worst things that ever happened to me. I was wrong.”

The Tauren drifts into a contented silence, and eventually sleep, as he thinks of all the good he has encountered since becoming one of the “bad guys”.]]> Brumboldt Challenge Forum Tue, 18 May 2010 13:14:08 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145777,145777#msg-145777 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145777,145777#msg-145777
As things stand right now and from a character perspective not a player's personal perspective:

Where does your character's loyalty lie? Are the a member of the Alliance/Horde army, and willingly (or even blindly) follow orders? Have you latched on to one of the mercenary factions, i.e Argent Dawn/Crusade, Kirin Tor, etc.? Is your loyalty more towards your racial or your faction leader? Or to a subset of your race, as in a specific tribe?]]> Kaphik Challenge Forum Tue, 18 May 2010 12:20:38 -0400 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145769,145769#msg-145769 http://thoriumbrotherhood.net/read.php?9,145769,145769#msg-145769 Brumboldt Challenge Forum Tue, 18 May 2010 12:43:10 -0400