Goodbye and Hello

I've moved all my Blackhand realm Horde toons to Earthen Ring to join the esteemed Alea Iacta Est guild, of The Instance podcast fame.  Sapphos, Zulvash, Vakash, and Rosebloom (damn you, Rosepetal of Earthen Ring!)

Rhetta didn't make the jump.  Having another Warlock already over there, with a compelling and versatile backstory already established, with nothing interesting going on in Rhetta's life, the choice was pretty clear which one would be let go...

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Rhetta lay on the path, staring upwards at the clear Arathi skies. The sun was falling low in the west, casting a dreamy, reddish glow over her surroundings. She could make out two faint stars twinkling above, harbingers of the night, coming to challenge the sun for the rule of the heavens.

A tortured scream from nearby, signaling someone's demise, brought a wisp of a smile to her face. She turned her head slowly to see her Succubus limping towards her. "You've looked better," the Demon purred as it knelt over her, trying not to allow it's own injuries to show.

Rhetta's body was ruined, even by a Forsaken's standards. One arm was nearly severed, held on mostly by the threads of her robes. Other gaping wounds riddled her body, blood flowing out of her and soaking into the cold ground beneath her. "I'm very tired," she managed to say.

The Succubus began to preen a tattered wing. "A little bit of resurrection, and we'll be back to making sweet, sweet pain together." It grew excited at the thought.

Rhetta turned to face the feeble stars again. "I... don't want... to come back...." The Demon stopped her preening and leaned over her body to meet her eyes. A tear trickled from Rhetta, clouding her already failing vision.

The Succubus, after a moment's pause, gingerly swung a hooved leg over Rhetta to straddle her legs, and slowly lifted her to a sitting position. The Demon tilted it's own head down and pressed it's lips to Rhetta's, it's fangs gently biting into hers. Rhetta closed her eyes as a soothing wave flowed through her, bringing the tranquility that comes from a final surrender.

Warlock and Succubus then slowly faded from the world, and with a sound like a small chime, left only two shards to lay twinkling on the blood-soaked earth.

Fendryys - Part 4

“Well done!” a man’s voice behind her applauded. Fendryys turned defensively, sword pointed at the newcomer. He sat perched atop the stump she had been hiding behind just moments before, his long hair partially shadowing his face. Fendryys saw him inspecting her mechanical squirrel, perched in his hands.

“Well done indeed! You possess a sort of... natural skill not often found in so young a warrior.” He looked directly at her and not his footing as he nimbly hopped down from is perch. “I have not seen such focus and grace in even the finest of performing dancers, and yet I saw you improvise it well on this impromptu stage. And can I say that this,” his attention turning back to the squirrel in his outstretched hand, “this is extraordinary work! Did yo craft this yourself?”

Fendryys’ felt her face flush from all the adulation from the stranger. Her stance relaxed substantially, though her sword remained between her and the man. “I saw several demonstrated at the Faire a while back, and I decided to craft my own.”

“Really?” The stranger was obviously impressed. “This is your own design, based solely from observation? It’s much more intricate than any I’ve seen before.”

Fendryys lowered her weapon, feeling surprisingly at ease around this appreciative stranger. “May I ask, who are you? And what business brings you into the forest at this hour?”

The man looked to her again and smiled. “I was tracking that group of kobolds myself, nasty pilfering vermin that they are, and was about to make my move when you appeared!” The man stepped forward, and held out the clockwork squirrel in his right hand for Fendryys to take. “My name is Garrick.”

As she took the squirrel from his hand Fendryys saw, even in the meager light of the moon, a clear tattoo of an intricate clockwork cog. She instantly stepped back and aimed her sword at him again. “You’re Defias!” she spat.

Garrick’s faced hardened slightly at her vehemence, and he lowered his hand. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But I can assure you, the Brotherhood is not your enemy.”

“Your ‘Brotherhood’ is the enemy, to Stormwind and to the Crown!”

“And why would you think that?”

“You’ve taken over lands that don’t belong to you! You’ve plundered storehouses, stolen crops out of the fields, waylaid caravans! Your thievery from the citizens and Nobles of Stormwind makes you our enemy!”

“It is those very citizens and Nobles that you speak of that have stolen from us!” Garrick grew more animated. “We worked to rebuild your precious Stormwind after the Wars, slaving away to remake our home. Then the ruling class that fled during the Wars returned, and upon seeing the City revived, coveted it and took it for thier own, casting us out. We demanded payment for our work, and what did they give us? They turned thier guardsmen on us! We had given all, and we were left to stare at what should have been ours!”

Fendryys stood blinking, taking in what Garrick had said. She pondered his words, and how much they matched her own feelings.

In that pause they both heard sounds of movement through the forest, the voices of multiple kobolds approaching. Garrick looked to Fendryys. “Perhaps they search for thier beloved Candle-Lord?”

“It sounds like quite the number.” Fendryys prepared herself for another fight.

Garrick clasped his free hand on her shoulder, and pressed the mechanical squirrel into hers. “No need to bother with them. I know of a place to hide. Follow me!” he said, already moving into the night, away from the approaching vermin. Fendryys stood her ground for a moment, then decided she had no choice but to follow.