Iliae inhaled sharply as she lifted her legs from her bed and gently rested her bandaged feet on the cold stone. It had been an hour since Melathanore had left, precious time that she had spent partially in a stupor, and partially planning. Staring down at her toes, she braced herself for the intense pain that was caused by the thin barrier of freshly healed skin protecting the muscle in her feet.
Standing, she struggled to remain upright as pain burned and her mind screamed for her to sit back down. The feeling worsened as she stumbled her way to her armor, undressed, and began to secure each piece with care. Only the reminder of Mel’s goodbye seemed to motivate her movements, her jaw gritting tightly as the agonizing seconds began to amount to minutes.
“If you want something, you have to go through with it- even if you’re sure it’ll mean disaster.”
She laughed dryly, thinking of the words she had said to Elly only a few days before. Of course, that was on matters of love, of building a life. Now, it was literal- palpable. She wanted Mel to not die, and Carkel was sure to try to make certain he would. Reaching the estate’s armory, Iliae began to scan the weapon racks before carefully securing a repeater crossbow and her longbow to her back.
“Don’t forget the holy water.” A deep voice chimed from the darkened corners of the room before a vial was tossed toward Iliae. Turning slightly, she caught it, her eyes lifting instantly to the guest. The priestess who stepped forward wore a cunning grin, her steps light- almost like a dancer’s or…
Iliae shook her head at the impossibility. “What are you doing here?” She growled out in response, “Shouldn’t you be kissing your master’s feet about now?”
Analyne chuckled at this, greatly amused by the questions. “’Master’? I have no master, and even if I were to serve another, that sniveling excuse for a deviant would hardly be worthy of commanding my talents.” Folding her arms, she cocked her head to the side. “Plus, I have matters to attend to other than aiding him in his foolish attempts at vengeance.”
Iliae took a slow step back, her hand falling to the table that held the various daggers and short blades she owned. Patting around for a moment, her eyes fell as she failed to find the familiar hilt of her dagger.
“Looking for this?” The priest lifted the saronite blade, turning the blade so that the subtle runes and the topaz within the dangling skull caught the light. “I thought I would borrow it, the craftsmanship is excellent…Not surprising, Daeyn always had a way with metals.” Her words came with such casualness that weight of what she had said only came to Iliae after a moment.
Snatching up a spare blade, Iliae held it out in front of her, her eyes narrowing at the woman. “Identify yourself!” She hissed, her voice holding a noticeable quiver as her suspicions went into overdrive. Her posture and hostility gave the clear hint that she knew she was in no shape to handle a fight should the woman turn out to be the enemy she feared.
Analyne snickered, moving slowly over to Iliae and stopping just short of the reach of her blade. Glancing at it, she gently pushed it aside with two fingers. “Oh calm yourself, woman. Do you think if I was here to cause you harm I would do so like this?” She gestured to her lack of armor or weaponry before flipping the dagger in her hand and holding it out to Iliae hilt first. “No, I’m here to talk, Duskryder.”
Iliae took the dagger back, hesitantly equipping it to her belt before lowering her first blade. “Analyne Embershine, wasn’t it?” She asks slowly, her eyes scrutinizing the smirk on the woman’s lips.
“You know who I am.” It wasn’t an assurance to the question, but rather a command to drop the game.
“Jaericho.” Iliae stated flatly, her muscles once again tensing as the name left her lips.
Jaericho lifted her arms- the priestess’ arms- into the air before doing a graceful twirl. “How do you like the new look? She’s a bit scrawny, but this one can pack a surprising punch.” Swinging back her hair a bit, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply before the Light began to swirl around her fingers. Opening her eyes again, she let it loose toward Iliae’s feet.
Jumping back, she cringed slightly as she expected an offensive spell to strike- instead, she found her pain was beginning to alleviate. After a moment, her eyebrows lifted. She looked up at Jaericho, wondering if she had she fallen into one of Calthos’ ‘alternate universes.'
“Better?” Jaericho asked as Illy began to relax.
“What?” Her confusion worsened as Jaericho moved around a bit, stopping as she found a barrel to sit on.
“How are your feet?” Jaericho asked, in an exaggeratedly slow manner.
Iliae blinked a few times before lowering her blade again, leaning against one of the few shelves that didn’t have anything sharp on it. “Better.” Her voice was coated with utter shock. After another long moment, she tacked on a muttered "Thanks."
Lifting a knee up to her chest, Jaericho watched Iliae with great amusement. “You're welcome. Now, as I was saying, I want to talk to you.” She smiled in a manner that almost made her host’s face bear a remarkable resemblance to her own. “About Aereyn.”
Iliae finally relaxed at this, “Oh, thank the Light.” She muttered, grateful that Jaericho actually did want something. Crossing her arms, she waited. “Well, get on with it then.”
Jaericho clapped her hands together and grinned. “Good! Well, since you’ve tossed him out to the curb and married my cousin, I want him back. Congratulations by the way, I’m glad that you’ve finally managed to find someone dead enough for you. First you went out looking for a dead man, then your boyfriend went and killed himself-” She stopped for a moment, tapping her chin, “No, I just told you that he did…Anyhow! Now you’ve married Daeyn and you’ve been making eyes at a pile of animated bones.
“But your life aside, I need you to convince him to come back with me to Northrend.” She stared at Iliae intently, awaiting a response.
The staring war continued for a long minute before Iliae managed to finally get out a few words; “Why would I do that?” The idea was incredulous, even more so when she began to wonder if the former rogue had managed to completely lose all of her senses.
“Because if you do this for me, in exchange I’ll only torture you enough to get that Carkel guy to not send my soul back to the Nether.” She stated flatly, watching the ranger with an even gaze.
Iliae took a slow breath before uncrossing her arms. “I think I’ll pass.” At her words, Jaericho scowled and flew up off the barrel, lunging at Iliae’s throat. Iliae immediately moved her hand down towards the weapons and snatched up a short sword.
Jaericho wrapped her hand around Iliae’s throat, her fingers curving up to hold the woman’s face inches from hers. Meeting her eyes, she hissed out a low guttural growl. “Drop it!” To her surpise, Iliae instantly did just that.
“Yes, Priestess.” She whispered, the glow of her eyes fading slightly as her hand opened and the weapon fell uselessly to the ground.
Clearly not expecting this, Jaericho froze for a moment before releasing her. “Duskryder?” Looking at the sword, she looked back up and prodded Iliae in the shoulder. She didn’t move, in fact she hadn’t even so much as blinked. Looking back into Iliae’s eyes, she took a slow step back. “This is ridiculous, say something.”
“Something.” Iliae stated before falling silent again.
As the reaction registered in her brain, Jaericho began to grin devilishly before moving back closer to Illy. “Well how about that…This scrawny thing actually can produce something useful.” She muses to herself before folding her arms and staring at Iliae like an all you can eat buffet. “Alright then, Duskryder, I want you to retrieve that trinket of Carkel Malarius’ and bring it back to me...the ankh.”
“Yes, priestess.” Iliae responded once more.
Jaericho grinned widely, “Then, you will contact Daeyn and inform him that you’ll be taking a trip and you will not be returning anytime soon.” Pausing, she waited for the second response. “Once you complete these tasks, I want you to end your life.”
Iliae’s response did not come immediately, and for a moment, Jaericho had thought she was going to snap out of her trance. Finally, “Yes, priestess.”
Relaxing, Jaericho stepped away from her with a devilish smirk, “Now go.”
Character Prompt 1: Another Life
Character Prompt 1: Another Life
Your character has succumbed to a sleepwalking curse! Tell a story about their subconscious adventure, while under this most malefic influence!
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Your character has succumbed to a sleepwalking curse! Tell a story about their subconscious adventure, while under this most malefic influence!
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Good Morning, Sunshine
It wasn’t as clean as she expected. She had thought it would have been like when Mel put her through the shelf, instead, she found it to be the exact opposite. The seconds between the arrows piercing her skin had each felt like a small lifetime of excruciating pain. She recalled with clarity the bolts of agony shooting from her wrist, which had been broken against the pole as they strung her up. Even worse was the sharp recollection of each face, of his face.
You Can Rest Now...
“You know, you’d think I’d know to just trust you by this point…But this plan, hell Illy, you’re out of your mind again.” Saying this, he looked down at the woman in his arms. Somehow, she made being unconscious almost appealing, for once the worry lines on her forehead fading away to nothing but simple wrinkles. Even bloody, beaten, and bruised she looked more at peace than he had ever seen her.
The Adventures of Iliae and Melathanore
“So…” Iliae shifted her gaze to her boots, her fingers fidgeting with the dangling rodent skull that hung from her dagger. “You feeling better?” She still didn’t look up, even as the looming shadow nodded his head.
Penance
The roar of the crowd swam around in her head, deafening her as she moved, the skirt of her gown gathering dirt and sand as she made her way to the center of the ring. From the corner of her eye, she could see him, grinning at a Sin’dorei beauty. He leaned too far forward, falling into the ground, the hunter gathering himself to protect himself from the fighters. He was so handsome, so charming in his attempt to impress her. Moving quickly, he returned to her side, his movements filled with pride.
“Dinendal…”
Return to Un'goro
A hastily written note has been posted on one of the sign posts in the courtyard, bearing the seal of the Duskryder family. Others like it have been placed around the city.
Field assistants needed for a research expedition in Un’goro focusing on the population of the local ravasaurs. Applicants must have mounted transportation to Un’goro Carter, know how to fire and operate a tranquilizer gun, have a strong constitution and not be afraid of large reptiles. If interested, please send mail to Gadgetzan in Tanaris.
-Iliae Duskryder
Sparrows Fly
Iliae tossed, unable to find sleep even in her tired state. With a heavy sigh, she sat up, pulling the thick, woolen blankets around her shoulder as she used the diluted glow of the moon to find a match to light the lantern by her cot. Her brother lay soundly asleep in his own cot, only a few feet away from her, curled underneath his own blankets to protect him from the cold of the Tundra. She smiled, watching him as she made her way to the small chest hidden beneath her pack. Carefully, she removed the silver chain that hung around her neck, placing the key that hung from it into the lock of the chest. Removing her journals and various soil samples she had gathered, her eyes settled on a mound of letters. Returning to her cot, Iliae pulled a letter from the stack and unfolded it.
Brother.
“Well I apologize for dragging you here to watch me try and kill myself, Dae.” Illy hissed at her brother as she slashed at the Venomhide once again, cringing as a fresh spray of blood made her skin sting and burn.
Daeryan smiled, leaning back against a mighty root of a tree within the Ravasaur nest, “Well when you say it like that, it sounds kind of funny.”
Father
“My father was not a kind man.” Iliae started, her eyes sweeping over the faces gathered around the stone on which her father’s body lay. Each had their eyes trained on her, some giving looks of hope, others of expectation and a few of fear. Taking an unsteady breath, she looked back down at the lifeless old man before her. “But he was an exceptionally caring one.”
“As a child, I never thought much of him. In all truth, I resented him for the dedication he showed to his work and bore jealousy against those he taught. Now, I see him for what he was, a teacher and a great man. A man when faced with the choice of betraying those he had worked, lived and breathed by, chose the noble course of giving his life to protect them…even when that meant keeping his own kin at bay.
My father never faltered in this, never gave into doubt or spared a glance at the gentler roads. Instead, he stood proud in the face of adversity and opened his heart and home to all who were in need of it.” Once again she looked at the refugees, her eyes pausing as she came across each. Many were human, A handful were Quel’dorei who clung to their once estranged Sin’dorei kin, then there were the half-breeds and unacceptables of the Horde. One in particular caught her gaze, a dark green troll child, who’s feet and small tusks told the story of the orc blood running through him.
“Even as the times changed, and the world continued to become a harsh, unforgiving place, Galvan Duskryder pushed to survive. He valued tradition, but dismissed misconceived notions of what defines acceptance. He believed that all races, no matter what blood runs through their veins, all had a heart beating beneath their chest and deserved the chance to a full, and peaceful life.
Even as I speak, change continues, and as my father did, I promise you that I will fight for it to change for the better and keep his hopes and work alive. While I cannot hope to provide half the wisdom my father held, or ever hope to achieve the level of sacrifice he gave, I will try. I will do everything within my power to continue his dream until one day, Azeroth is ready to listen to the wisdom in his words.”
Closing her eyes, Iliae blinked away tears. “Galvan Duskryder was not a good father, but in that, he became a great man who has touched many lives.” Now, she looked to her right. To her brother, who stood there sobbing like a small child; to Jackson Badger, who locked his jaw and could not tear his eyes from his idol; and to Melathanore Malarius, who held his head dipped in respect to the man he had only briefly known.
Moving down from the rock above, she made her way to her father’s side and laid a hand atop his. “Sho’rel a’ran, father.” Bending over, she kissed his forehead before stepping back and nodding to the collection of watchmen who stood dutifully to her left.
In formation, they approached the body, kneeling down at once and lifting the stretcher he lie on before carefully lowering him into the grave that had been dug for him.
As they moved aside for those gathered to pay their respects, Daeryan pulled Illy into a tight embrace. “But…I miss him.”
Rubbing his back, she looked to the grave as Melathanore placed a bottle of bourbon in atop the letters and keepsakes before closing her eyes and sighing. “I know Dae, I know.”
“As a child, I never thought much of him. In all truth, I resented him for the dedication he showed to his work and bore jealousy against those he taught. Now, I see him for what he was, a teacher and a great man. A man when faced with the choice of betraying those he had worked, lived and breathed by, chose the noble course of giving his life to protect them…even when that meant keeping his own kin at bay.
My father never faltered in this, never gave into doubt or spared a glance at the gentler roads. Instead, he stood proud in the face of adversity and opened his heart and home to all who were in need of it.” Once again she looked at the refugees, her eyes pausing as she came across each. Many were human, A handful were Quel’dorei who clung to their once estranged Sin’dorei kin, then there were the half-breeds and unacceptables of the Horde. One in particular caught her gaze, a dark green troll child, who’s feet and small tusks told the story of the orc blood running through him.
“Even as the times changed, and the world continued to become a harsh, unforgiving place, Galvan Duskryder pushed to survive. He valued tradition, but dismissed misconceived notions of what defines acceptance. He believed that all races, no matter what blood runs through their veins, all had a heart beating beneath their chest and deserved the chance to a full, and peaceful life.
Even as I speak, change continues, and as my father did, I promise you that I will fight for it to change for the better and keep his hopes and work alive. While I cannot hope to provide half the wisdom my father held, or ever hope to achieve the level of sacrifice he gave, I will try. I will do everything within my power to continue his dream until one day, Azeroth is ready to listen to the wisdom in his words.”
Closing her eyes, Iliae blinked away tears. “Galvan Duskryder was not a good father, but in that, he became a great man who has touched many lives.” Now, she looked to her right. To her brother, who stood there sobbing like a small child; to Jackson Badger, who locked his jaw and could not tear his eyes from his idol; and to Melathanore Malarius, who held his head dipped in respect to the man he had only briefly known.
Moving down from the rock above, she made her way to her father’s side and laid a hand atop his. “Sho’rel a’ran, father.” Bending over, she kissed his forehead before stepping back and nodding to the collection of watchmen who stood dutifully to her left.
In formation, they approached the body, kneeling down at once and lifting the stretcher he lie on before carefully lowering him into the grave that had been dug for him.
As they moved aside for those gathered to pay their respects, Daeryan pulled Illy into a tight embrace. “But…I miss him.”
Rubbing his back, she looked to the grave as Melathanore placed a bottle of bourbon in atop the letters and keepsakes before closing her eyes and sighing. “I know Dae, I know.”
Dear Jackson Badger,
While perhaps not an exceedingly rare sight in Booty Bay, the aging Alliance soldier turned more than a few heads as he ran across the docks of the goblin settlement. His pace only slowing as he ducked into the Salty Sailor and made his way to the innkeeper. As he knelt down to exchange quick and quiet words, his steel eyes often flickered over to the collection of strange patrons seated in the far corner. Of this group, his eyes seemed to singularly focus upon the heavily armored Death Knight seated at the head of the table.
New Low
Iliae closed her eyes and sighed as she set down yet another empty glass, her hand falling away from it only to tap the counter twice. It had been several days since she’d had to bother herself with actually speaking to the inn’s staff- after all, they knew what she wanted and she was good to pay for it. The bar maid quickly took the glass from her, and refilled it. Lifting the glass, the grizzled archer hadn’t so much as taken a sip before abruptly slamming it back onto the counter.
The expression on the barmaid’s face was that of little surprise as Iliae rose from her chair and quickly stumbled her way out through the service entrance and inevitably to one of the many waste buckets that lie beyond the door. Falling to her hands and knees, the contents of her stomach were quickly expelled- leaving her in a dizzying state of mental sobriety. Iliae hated that the most. Rising back to her feet, she shakily pulled a dirty handkerchief from her glove and wiped herself clean.
After taking a long minute to regain her composure, Iliae faltered her way back to the door. Leaning against the frame, she scowled at the sight that now lay before her.
Standing opposite of her, four Blood Knights stood questioning the innkeeper- their ranking member extending a small poster to her. Watching them carefully, Iliae’s stomach lurched as the woman nodded before turning and lifting a finger, pointed directly at her.
An eruption of swear words followed as Iliae backtracked, the Knights already drawing their swords as they rushed towards the service entrance after her. Scrambling, Iliae struggled to hold herself together as she pulled herself over the low wall separating the inn from the square.
She had always been fond of the Falconwing Square for one reason: The anonymity it provided. On any given day young men and women flowed in and out from the North to continue their training, while the guards were often too occupied with the remaining Wretched of the ruins to pay much note to any other crimes that occurred in the small settlement. Despite this, the Blood Knights often left the area to fall to squalor, from either lack of jurisdiction or interest; it was perfect.
Now, her peaceful refuge was that no longer. Landing in a crouched position, Iliae Duskryder found herself surrounded- a half dozen swords pointed at her.
“Iliae Duskryder, Captain of the Ebonhawk Vanguard, we hereby place you under arrest for treason against the Horde and its allies.” A gruff, voice stated clearly before two of the guards moved aside to make room for the Knight-Master.
Iliae stood slowly, her hands raised in front of her as she silently calculated her odds for escape. It wasn’t good. Sighing, she quickly raised a hand to the small, runed stone that hung from her ear.
“Xynrael…we have a problem.”
The expression on the barmaid’s face was that of little surprise as Iliae rose from her chair and quickly stumbled her way out through the service entrance and inevitably to one of the many waste buckets that lie beyond the door. Falling to her hands and knees, the contents of her stomach were quickly expelled- leaving her in a dizzying state of mental sobriety. Iliae hated that the most. Rising back to her feet, she shakily pulled a dirty handkerchief from her glove and wiped herself clean.
After taking a long minute to regain her composure, Iliae faltered her way back to the door. Leaning against the frame, she scowled at the sight that now lay before her.
Standing opposite of her, four Blood Knights stood questioning the innkeeper- their ranking member extending a small poster to her. Watching them carefully, Iliae’s stomach lurched as the woman nodded before turning and lifting a finger, pointed directly at her.
An eruption of swear words followed as Iliae backtracked, the Knights already drawing their swords as they rushed towards the service entrance after her. Scrambling, Iliae struggled to hold herself together as she pulled herself over the low wall separating the inn from the square.
She had always been fond of the Falconwing Square for one reason: The anonymity it provided. On any given day young men and women flowed in and out from the North to continue their training, while the guards were often too occupied with the remaining Wretched of the ruins to pay much note to any other crimes that occurred in the small settlement. Despite this, the Blood Knights often left the area to fall to squalor, from either lack of jurisdiction or interest; it was perfect.
Now, her peaceful refuge was that no longer. Landing in a crouched position, Iliae Duskryder found herself surrounded- a half dozen swords pointed at her.
“Iliae Duskryder, Captain of the Ebonhawk Vanguard, we hereby place you under arrest for treason against the Horde and its allies.” A gruff, voice stated clearly before two of the guards moved aside to make room for the Knight-Master.
Iliae stood slowly, her hands raised in front of her as she silently calculated her odds for escape. It wasn’t good. Sighing, she quickly raised a hand to the small, runed stone that hung from her ear.
“Xynrael…we have a problem.”
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