Tag: Shaman x 26

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: June 8, 2012 - Describe something your character does impulsively.

    Five months had passed, and she was well aware that she'd been naught but trial and trouble for her doctor. The kaldorei druid was quite good at concealing the distaste in his gaze when he looked at her, but the Canal Street Baker himself had been teaching her to read faces for almost two years. Xeremuriis had never dared ask the source of it, but she sensed it wasn't personal - that is, that the druid's distaste was not for herself alone but something of her type. She had no real idea which type of hers was the problem - baker's girl, draenei, youth, shaman, patient, or crazy - but she knew it lurked behind the clinical detachment with which Doctor...

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...