Tag: Shadow Council x 16

Life in the garrison hadn’t changed since she’d been there last. There was the usual bustle of people coming and going, hunters and farmers bringing in food for the populace, soldiers patrolling the walls and the perimeter.

The draenei who had taken over once the Shrouded Dawn left had done well. The small fortress was well fortified and guarded. She knew she was safe, knew that Lancaster could not reach her here. 

It had been several days since she had finally rid herself of the last of the drugs that had warped her mind to the bishop’s bidding. Finara, Xaanau, and the elder draenei women watched her closely, ensuring that she ate properly, fussing over her pale skin and the circles under her eyes.

They watched her so closely...

Niviene glared at the bruisers on either side of her while they, with an air of familiar boredom, sat sharpening their blades. She rubbed the sore spot on her arm gingerly, certain a bruise was forming where one of the men had grabbed her to drag her away from the portal.

At the sound of approaching footsteps her guards scrambled to their feet, snapping to attention. Bishop Lancaster sneered down at the priestess, “Of course it would be you Sister Larethian.” the title he’d used dripping with sarcasm and malice. “You have ever been a problem for the cathedral, from the first day you came to Stormwind.”

Niviene’s eyes widened slightly, making the bishop give a mirthless chuckle, “Oh yes. I know all about you. You married...

Whispers about the Maw spread like a dark fog rolling in from the sea. She’d heard them in the marketplace of Stormwind, but it wasn’t until the rumors had made their way to Darkshire that Venibeth paid them any heed.

“The souls of all who die are trapped in the Maw.” 

“They don’t move on. They’re all there. Everyone who died.”

She tried to shake the feelings these words engendered. Tried to go about her day, her mind on the tasks at hand. But each quiet moment was filled with them. The whispers invaded her dreams and she would wake in a cold sweat, certain she’d heard him calling her name.

Finally, unable to move passed the nagging hope, Veni was determined to find the answer. If he was dead she would find him....

Classes weren’t over yet, the children wouldn’t be home for another hour or so, still Niviene looked over her shoulder, half expecting to hear their footsteps on the stairs at any minute. She shook her head, not for the first time, admonishing herself for the guilt she felt. What she was doing wasn’t really wrong. She was the girl’s mother after all.

Still the priestess hesitated before finally dropping to her knees and pulling the quilt back to peer beneath the bed. Nothing. She sat back on her heels for a moment, scanning the room. She knew what it was like to hide things as a child. She’d been forced to hide her own dolls from her grandmother lest they be destroyed. Toys were a waste of time, grandmother had said, a...

The woman sat across from the headmistress, her dark, shadow green hair shimmering strangely in the lamplight. Her face was still, like a dusky gray porcelain doll, with only the occasional blink. She listened intently, trying to determine where this line of questioning would take her, wondering if the shoe she’d been waiting to to drop was finally falling.

Niviene watched the alchemy teacher, looking for a hint of emotion but there was none, and it left the priestess more than a little unnerved, “I understand she has been spending time with you, more time than her classes require.” she paused then gave the woman a tentative smile, “Is my daughter showing an interest in potions?”

Nelandrys nodded, “Yes mistress, she is...

Niviene walked through the hallway with the laundry basket perched on her hip, her mind listing out the remaining chores that had to be done before she could start dinner, when she thought she saw something cross in front of her. She stopped, sky blue eyes scanning the top of the stairs, but she saw only shadows. Slowly she turned to look to the other end of the hall, only to see sunbeams streaming through the window and Max, her fat orange tabby cat, fast asleep in their warmth.

“Imaging things I guess.” She muttered to herself as she made her way toward the stairs with her basket. As she passed Korissa’s room, she could hear her daughter whispering. The priestess thought nothing of it, a child playing pretend with her dolls....

(( I wrote this during the events of Cataclysm. Rya struggles with the war and the changes of the world and in her own life. ))

She had been obsessed; her naturally amber eyes were filled with the fel green that does not suit her. He knew she needed to get out of Silvermoon, to forests that had not been altered by magic, for her eyes to return to their normal hue and her mind with them. When a Brightsinger goes insane there is little one can do if they do not know them, and Dimetri was dealing with the only recorded Brightsinger left.

“What am I to do if Moriurya crossed that line? Will I be able to protect her as her uncle had made me promise?” -Dimetri

The world had just changed to what was now being called ‘The...

(( Another post from 2012. Rya returned to the Farstriders after leaving ATS and, months later, ran into a few of her ex-coworkers at a club. ))

Gil’s eyes.

I cannot help but think about his eyes. So calm, so collected, so sad, so begging … those are his eyes. My skin prickled as I felt him watching me on the dance floor. He made a few jokes, teasing me with his playful mannerisms. I wonder if he even realizes it is Rya with the short cropped hair and the form-fitted leather. Playful, inviting, alluring. It is a wonder I had not seen the charms of the half-elf sooner.

We shared a campfire after the club closed for the night.I had left before the music stopped, urgently called away on a topic that needed to be spoken about...

((The numbering between breaks show the order of events, but this is meant to be read straight through rather than back and forth. These events happened on Shadow Council in 2012, leading up to my "When Your Time Is Up" post.))

“Do you now, Rya?”

Gilithanas’ voice spoke clearly, harsh even. The sound of a gun locked into place came from the entrance of the club they were outside of. The first thing that came to Rya’s mind is, “Oops,” but you do not say such a thing in front of a lawyer with a gun pointed in your general direction. If Gil was aiming at herself or at Tiradell, she could not tell.

4.

It had been a nice day; no one was crying over the communicators about who said what, where, and when, but with the...

(( This post is from 2012. Moriurya had become the Lead Historian for Atlas Treasure Salvage, but was also on a self-imposed mission to keep detailed tabs of the goings ons of ATS and it's members. After a tense moment between her and a few of its members, Rya vindictively sought out someone to give this information to. ))

“Rya, can you hear me?”

The sound of the box echoed in the stone walls of The Aegis. My conversation had just started when Gilthånås’ voice came through the mechanical box on my hip. Why my ear piece was not in to start with was surprising to me. I looked to Tiradell, then picked up the box and spoke into it.

“Yes, I can.”
“Look … I need to talk to you. Where are you?”

I looked to Tiradell...

(( I wrote this story in 2010 during the in-game events leading up to the Cataclysm. ))

It had only meant to be a stroll through Orgrimmar for a certain type of parchment and inks that only a certain vendor possessed at a certain time. Of course not, Lady Moriurya Brightsinger thought as she made her way through the crowds of panicking people, of course I have to come to Orgrimmar just when the world decides to end. Her golden pupils, shaded over with the emerald glow of a blood elf, glanced over at the troll, obviously some sort of shaman, with a large group of people around listening intently.

“Pathetic, the lot of them,” the smooth voice of her consultant broke into her thoughts. Dimetri had proven himself repeatedly in...

(( This story is from early 2010! I'm reposting it here with only minor edits so I can gather her stories in one location. This post also mentions the still active Fancy Cakes event! ))

A Dream.

“If I said your assumption are true, would you ignore me for the rest of your life?” Delamontre’s voice was deep and low, almost a whisper. His bright blue eyes, those eyes that all death knights shared, looked at Moriurya with concern and … love?

Moriurya shook her head and closed her eyes, not wanting to look into the bright blue again, to see the love that seemed to look at her behind a Death Knight’s cold stare. She hated that feeling, hated knowing that another of those whom had been made undead by the Lich King had feelings...

((The following is for an alt that I haven't played in ages but I love her back story and I want to explore it more. I hope you like it.))

The carriage gleamed in the early morning sun, the matched bay geldings standing idle as the coachman descended his seat and moved to open the carriage door. He stood patiently for several moments, watching the people passing by until he heard the hospital doors open and a soft voice call his name.

Mr. Brinkman looked up the stairs at his young mistress, his gut knotting when he saw her wane features though he covered the reaction with the stoic air of the hired help. “Miss Tess, you’re looking well.” he said as the woman walked down the steps and stood a few feet from him.

“Don’t lie...

Insomnia was not a problem Niviene usually experienced. It was easy to fall asleep with Braghaman’s warmth beside her, easy to slumber through the night knowing she was safe in his arms. So when she woke in the wee hours of the morning, heavy with a sense of foreboding, the priestess couldn’t ignore the feeling.

She rose quietly, slipped from the room and padded on barefeet to make a circuit of the house, checking the windows and doors before moving upstairs to check the children who were nestled in their beds, sleeping soundly. She paused at the base of the stairs, taking a moment to take stock of the wards that surrounded the house; all were intact, nothing seemed amiss.

As she entered the bedroom Bragh cracked an eye open,...

Niviene peered down from her office window, watching as the young woman who’d just left her office stepped out onto the back lawn of the academy.

She was a beautiful creature, quite exotic in appearance. Her hair seemed to glow with the iridescence of a raven’s wing, dark and ever changing, from deep forest green to dark, ocean blue. She was an elf, void elf is what they were called. And though she was taller than Niviene the priestess couldn’t help but attribute the word petite to the woman.

She watched the woman approach Banny and Korissa as they played in the garden, waiting to see how the children would respond to the strange woman. The boy seemed a bit hesitant but the little girl turned a bright smile on the woman and...