Tag: Rosoe x 11

A collaboration with the player and writer of Eredis Orill.

((We wrote this piece collaboratively over two years, e-mailing it back and forth. Coincidentally, this work formed the beginning of our relationship in person.))


      Golden dawn light limned the sails and almost lent beauty to the war-torn, ice-battered boat docked at the harbor at Valiance Keep. The dawn light struggled in vain against the puffs of sooty steam from the ship’s main power source, the coal fires banked while the ship sat at anchor. On the wooden docks, activity bustled as quickly as if it were well after noon. Pairs of deckhands carried large wooden crates between them from the ship’s hold to the land end of the docks while a leather-skinned man with a...

Prompt: May 30, 2012 - Future http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/future?s=t

    Among those exiled from their home planet, only one holds the gift of true prophecy, an ineffable knowledge of the paths ahead and how to sort them. True prophets are a rare thing, for so much knowledge and so little ability to change it drives one mad. The Prophet Velen is the only one for whom the Sight is strong, definable, and frankly useful in any real way.

    The Seers and Farseers, so new to the voices of the ancestors and the wisdom of the elements do not so much see the future as a woven mesh of threads of fate as they occasionally get a second's glimpse of one inch of one thread of a hundred thousand pieces which make up fate's...

Prompt: May 29, 2012 - Junkie http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/junkie?s=t

    When one lived - by choice - very much alone for long stretches of time, necessity demanded that one acquire skill in feeding the body to keep it going. Skill, however, was not the same thing as art. Every cook of skill has some dish or another (or several) of which they can create art.

    Rosoe touched a hand to one of the stone-formed totems on a leather cord around her neck, calling upon her connection to the spirits of water as she rubbed the small bit of resin packed into a recess on the totem. The warmth of her fingers warmed the resin enough to release some of its sweet, seaweed-like scent - an offering, however small, in return for...

Colors added by Rosoe.

Prompt: May 25, 2102 - Sleepless http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/Sleepless?s=t

    So many hours had passed since night fell that the campfire was down to smoldering coals, a sullen glow which nevertheless the shaman poked at regularly in the hopes that the faint glow would be enough of a beacon. With the White Lady just beginning to wax in the sky and the Blue Child still hiding behind her because of the confluence, there was little spare light in the sky. She hoped her glowing coals were enough.

    Tonight's choice had been one of the easier ones - high bluffs overlooking the south of Feralas, the hot springs near the top of the mountain far less populous (indeed, abandoned by this hour) than the easy-to-reach ones...

Prompt: May 20, 2012 - Your character is given a chance to recall one person from the dead. Who do they summon and what happens? Knowing that time is short before they have to return to the world beyond, what is the last thing you want them to depart with/knowing?

    It had been weeks and weeks since she'd let him out. He was probably quite sick of flies. But it wasn't magnanimity which drove Rosoe to temporarily lift the enchantment on her erstwhile apprentice - it was practicality. After all, she had promised to provide him training and she could not provide all of it while he was a toad.

    "You sadistic, rampaging mons-"

    "Shhh. I will put it back without letting you stretch your legs," Rosoe warned as she sat...

    The small, sharp blade whistled through the air with the sweetest, softest ring, its movement so swift that its target only had enough time to perk a long ear at the warning before the dagger pinned its chest to the forest floor. The hare kicked twice and expired, its life blood pooling beneath it from the well-aimed thrown weapon.

    Hooves no noisier than a doe’s carried the sturdy draenei female out of the bushes and to her quarry. She mumbled a perfunctory prayer to the Light for the animal’s soul, rote words with hardly more thought behind them than it took to form her mouth around the syllables. An ebon-gray hand, calloused with hard work and tipped with blunted, heavily-used claws, pulled the blade free of the...

    I still remember the sense of awe and wonder I felt when I first saw Farseer Nobundo wield the elements as easily as our Vindicators wield the Light. Like most of my people, my head was still clouded by fear and prejudice; I believed the Broken were somehow tainted and unworthy. I was such a fool.

    My path had been a simple one until that day. Born to the life of an eternal refugee during the early centuries of our exodus, I trained as a scout and tracker, my reckless disregard for myself allowing an unusual amount of skill in finding which places on each new planet we landed on would be safe to inhabit and which places were potentially fatal to us. I spent the millennia learning to be self-sufficient, to rely only on...