February – The last letter of the word swirling and pulling the ink to the edge of the paper as she wrote. There had always been something funny about the word, but as she looked at it now- it seemed nearly foreign. The quill was gently set to the inkwell on the left side of the desk. Had it really been that long?

Originally posted by ofallingstar

She hadn't found much time to sit in the office lately, and with the man upstairs sleeping after a night of her fitful sleep – she'd taken the opportunity to pull her journal out and update it in the early morning hours. The last entry had been a few months back, after the first night she'd spent in her new home in Pandaria. 

...I know it's unconventional, but what if unconventional...

I may have stowed away for awhile. Well, not really. More like: I may have gone to Shanks and asked for more lessons in sailing.

I am -- quite frankly -- tired of all the dour attitudes. I lied to Lilliana, of course; I have no concrete idea how to fix this, any of this, other than to do one specific thing. I have locked my anger away for years. But the Light, if I follow it, always leads back to one place. Unlocking the box has consequences -- memories flashing before my eyes and of course, I was never Eldriana to begin with; how could I have been so foolish as to think otherwise? The rest of it is inconsequential, to me, to Eleeria -- I discard those feelings of unease and unrest and decide I have no more need for them. I will be...

Trigger warning: Baby complications

The magic spilled from her fingertips, arcane wisps dancing and forming in the air before her. Runes along her wrist were long devoid of her trademark glow, faded and unbecoming as the scars came into full view. The woman had literally carved these things into her skin, some appearing more jarred with the non-dominate cuts. 

The two wisps broke apart, wrapping and contorting themselves into an intricate rune design. It floated lightly in place as the woman hummed, “I’m gonna fight ’m off…” She pressed a finger to the conjured rune that danced in the air in front of her. It began to descend towards a bright glowing rune that sat on her lap, the ornate figure began to flicker as it...

Braghaman slid off the back of the gryphon and looked around the landing area. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned to the gryphon handler and handed over a few coins for her troubles. Lifting his rucksack from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder, he stepped out to the road and looked down at Darkshire.

“Welcome back commander.”

Braghaman glanced to his left to see one of the Nightwatch walking towards him. The paladin turned and nodded to the guard.

“Thanks. Glad to see everything is still standing. Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Not really. Had a hog break out its pen and run for the woods.”

“Don’t expect you’ll see that one back,” Bragh said with a shake of his head and quick...

“I don’t understand.” Regynn stood in front of the desk, her look of bewilderment plain for all too see.

The officer in charge scowled up at her, “What’s to understand. You’ve received new orders. You’re to leave on the morning tide and return to Stormwind.”

“But I haven’t gotten the information from the prisoner yet.”

“Any information that lout may, or may not have had, is irrelevant now. The war is over. Your services are no longer required. You’re orders have been rescinded, you’ve been recalled.” he shuffled some papers and thrust them into a folder, all but slamming the cover shut, “You will go to your quarters immediately and pack. As I said, your ship departs on the morning tide.” With...

The night is wine: sky; drink; the sangria blossom of a bruise (hematoma) in the crook of his arm (cubital fossa) that leaves no secret about how he’s decided to spend his night. The ugly bleed of immediate color spreads at the same pace that the colors in the sides of his vision seep and waver. He laughs it away, says his vein (cephalic) rolled, and gets a sympathetic nod of ‘been there’ in return. He knows it is a lie: that he’s drunk, he’s trembling, he’s out of practice but not so much so that he had any trouble locating the stashed away needle injection kit beneath a false floorboard.

It was easy to invite her in, and even easier to strip her bare. These are familiar motions but now done in open-eyed slumber. The...

His sleep had been short-lived, and what little he had managed was fitful, the cocktail of drugs and alcohol leaving his system leaving him in a decidedly wakeful state. It is not difficult to untwine his own restless limbs from the sprawl of pale, forever ones, but he does it slowly nonetheless — breath hitched, mindful of the slightest stir. Nothing. He wonders if it is a credit to his stealthiness or merely luck, helped along by a circadian rhythm that is not his — but is.

He gravitates towards the largest bookshelf in this space, overburdened and cluttered with an eclectic mix: stolen books, a forgotten spore cultivar that has likely become its own ecosystem, the bleached lower mandible of a dragon. His interest lies in...

“On the right!”

The group of paladins shifted their attention at Braghaman’s call. Angling shields and weapons, they turned as a unit to face a new batch of demons that came running at the clearing. The demons were once more storming the beach head at Hope’s Landing, making one last attempt to overtake the forces there. The demons pushed against the shields, trying to get past, but the young paladins held true.

“Hold the line!” Braghaman yelled. “Hold them!”

Working together, the paladins held the demons at bay, separating one or two out at a time for the rest of the troops to dispatch. After several long minutes, they continued to thin through the group of beasts until finally they had all been slain without any...

First time had been disorienting in her waking, feeling the press of lips to the back of her neck in a morning-light wake up and the strangeness of having someone at her back when before she had been met with a chill reminder of an empty side of the bed. It caused breath to hitch, soon intimately aroused in a wash of warm breath was the mumbled greeting that tickled the little hairs at the nape, drawing her back into an embrace that had banished all prior nervous doubts.

The second, however, left Kirabel with the slowly forming acceptance of one who could certainly get used to this - to him.

Only the faintest hues of pale violet peaked picturesque in waning anticipation of the coming sun. A hazy twilight hush that cast about the room...

Marachius rode next to Katherine the Pure as they traveled through Elwynn Forest on their way to Darkshire. As they rode, the elder paladin talked about experiences she’d had growing up, sharing the lessons she had learned as a recruit and young paladin. From time to time, Marachius would ask questions but for the most part he listened or responded when a question was asked of him. 

They had not travelled for too long before they came to the turn into Duskwood. The trees closed in around the road and the shadows deepened as they moved further into the shire. The conversation lagged as they paid more attention to their surroundings. Marachius was on edge, looking for every howl that echoed amongst the trees. Finally, they came to the...

It all started in the brothel in Silvermoon.

One of the other apprentices at the Academy (who I think had a crush on me) whispered in group about The Wandering Songbird. Word on the street was that all desires could be fulfilled there and he was going to check it out, and did I wish to come along? At first I was unsure, but he smirked and said that a mature woman such as myself should have nothing to fear from such a place. He was daring me of course, hoping I would come along and perhaps something would develop from there. I suppose I wasn’t above being baited at that point, even though I shrugged it off.

I admit I followed him there one evening after class. The bouncer saw me lingering outside and whispered to one of the...

Light’s Hope was..uncomfortable.

Watching Lilliana, you would never think that she must be hurting. Her face is nearly serene -- if the stares that she gets from those who do not know her (and there are many who do know her, and very well, and question not) bother her, she doesn’t show it. Instead she seems to glide through the space as if she owns it still. It dawns on me that I never asked her where she was stationed, back before she became a demon hunter. It is possible she could have been stationed here for a time; perhaps Suel’thalas, only a stone’s throw away, was near enough that this place weighed constantly on her mind. I cannot guess at what she’s thinking. She assumes I didn’t see her sadness -- as well as she tried...

Hello Regynn,

I am the programmer/"partial"/ owner of this website. You are in a sense one of the many co-owners already since you posted your stories here. Thank you for being here and sharing your works with us!

I am sorry I have not had the time to put a character deletion button yet. I am going trough some rough times personally and I will do it as soon as I am working on the site again. For the time being please ignore the second character.

Thanks for your understanding, Satore

I should have been a mage. Mages can teleport. Or open portals. Why on Azeroth wasn’t there a portal open? A ship? Who in the fel travels by ship anymore? If you want to go to the Outlands, there’s a portal. If you want to go to Panderia there’s a portal. But Northrend? Nope, you have to take a ship. Across the ocean. To a place where it becomes necessary to dodge icebergs.

Regynn gripped the railing as she made her shakey way down the gangplank, blinking rapidly in the late afternoon light, a sharp contrast to the dim recesses of the cabin she’d spent nearly the entire journey in, only moving from her cot to retch up what little she was able to eat. When she’d first viewed the ship in Stormwind harbor she’d been excited,...

“Of course dear, I understand. You have to go where they send you. I’m sure it’s important, otherwise why would they tell you to go all the way out there. I’ll be certain to have the children pray for you and your safe return.”

Regynn nodded her appreciation then quickly embraced the older woman before fleeing from the room. The matron stood still in shock, blinking several times; the priestess’ impulsive actions leaving her momentarily stunned. She glanced out the window just in time to see Regynn scurrying across the square and into the dim recesses of the cathedral, “Poor girl.” She murmured, “Light be with her in that dreadful place.”

Reggy picked her way through the clutter in her room until she came to the...

I should have been a mage. I wonder how you become a mage… is it something you’re born with? A talent? Is it too late for me to start now?

The white stones in the walls and floor gleamed in the light of the candles while the pale blue and white marble squares marched around the room like decorative blocks of ice. She perched on the edge of the bench, her back ramrod straight and her hands clutched  in her lap; she resisted the urge to tap her foot.

Mages have all manner of important things to do. They can open portals for one… and they can teleport. And conjure food and drink. Oh, and they can polymorph. Wouldn’t it be fun to turn people into sheep. I know exactly who I’d turn into a sheep right now.

She watched as a...

“Come on Reggy. Don’t go darlin. You can’t leave me alone on Winter Veil Eve.” 

The priestess paused, raising her head from the stack of parchment she was gathering, “Somehow I think you’ll survive.” she remarked dryly, stepping out of his reach as a guard moved toward the prisoner. “Mind your manners Bartleby or they won’t let me come back and then who will write letters to all your lady friends back home?”

Bartleby pressed a hand to his chest, his countenance the picture of shocked dismay, “Them’s my cousins just like I told ya lovey. You know I only have eyes for you.”

Regynn shared a knowing glance with the guard as she walked passed him, “Yeah Bart, I love you too.” she called over her shoulder,...

I went to Haera.

Her family has always had the gift of divination on her mother's side, and she carries a pouch of those cards -- the ones the Witch used to use. Slightly different in picture but similar in meaning. They are meant to aid the diviner in scrying the future. Some sort of innate connection to the Weave. Or something. I'm not sure what it actually is; Haera describes it as reaching out a hand to tug at the threads of fate and see what resonates. Divination is not her primary concern, but she inherited the gift from her mother.

She said the cards were not happy as soon as she drew them, attempting to put them away. She said I shouldn't look; it would only bring me unhappiness. She could put them away and I would never be the...

Hello Braghaman,

I was reading your stories nd thinking how really good they are. So I wonder if you might be interested in writing (or shooting a video) on how you got to write so well. Do you have a process behind it? What qurstions do you ask yourself to come up for ideas? How do you come up with your characters? And mainly how do you keep stories engaging?

What I noticed so far is you do write in "actions" and don't put too much weight on the adjectives. Letting your characters reveal their nature through their actions feels much more natural and readable to me. So this is grrreat.

So would you write something like this?

Sleep was an elusive but glorious thing. When it found her, she slept hard. It had taken months for her to be able to actually sleep with Zay, whether at her place or his. She never really found it odd that they’d stay up all night, talking and well…not talking.

The first time it had happened, she woke up, curled against him, and he was sitting up, leaned against the headboard, wide awake. She never questioned, they each kept their own secrets. The late-night comm talks had given that much up. He’d dozed off during a few of the more inconsequential, trivial talks but not in her presence.

The sun was rising as she stirred, her arm draped over a sleeping Zayneth. Lately, Sunday mornings had consisted of visits to Fairbreeze and...

Marachius re-read the letter, he’d received from Reggy, as he walked through the halls of the Cathedral. Shaking his head, he quickened his pace until he finally found one of his trainers.

“Sir,” Marachius said, standing at attention in front of the trainer.

“Ainsley. Aren’t you supposed to be out at the training yard?”

“Sir, they sent Regynn to Northrend.”

“That’s your friend, right?” the trainer asked.

“Yes, sir.  She’s never been there. And they sent her by herself.”

“And?” the trainer asked with a shrug, obviously unmoved by this information.

“She shouldn’t be there by herself. They should’ve sent someone else with her to help out.”

“What do you want me to do, Ainsley? Send you?” Read more