Lotheswan

Anduin Wrynn: Best chance at survival. Angel Andy will do his best to make you as relaxed and comfortable as possible. He’ll offer to use his Light magic to combat the pain and ransack the Mage Quarter of Stormwind for tasty treats to get your mind off of things.

Genn Greymane: Worst chance at survival. Genn is pure testosterone in humanoid form, so in this situation...he has no idea what to do. Genn can probably sense the change, given his extra sensitive nose. At first, he’ll give you space. Genn will avoid the topic at all costs. When his plan of neglect fails and blows up in his face, he will just sit with you quietly somewhere outdoors. Whether it's listening to the tree branches crinkling in the woods or the soft downpour of rainfall in Gilneas, both of you will enjoy a peaceful moment.

Tyrande Whisperwind: Careful with this one. Tyrande is pure estrogen in humanoid form, so she will take your side on every dispute (including publicly shaming whoever is bothering you). She’ll pray to Elune for you, offer hunting-bonding trips, and be your devoted Mean Girl on call.

Tyrande: Do not fear, Champion. Women secretly rule the world.

Anduin Wrynn: It's a beautiful world!

Genn Greymane: It's a frightening, cold world.

Malfurion Stormrage: He has centuries of experience with Tyrande and Illidan, so there isn't really an issue here. Malfurion may try to coax you out of the physical world to relax for a while in the Emerald Dream (the out-of-body experience may lessen the pain). In the meantime, Malfurion will offer natural remedies. You may find yourselves sipping tea together in the woods, listening to the chime-like chirp of the birds.

Prophet Velen: There is limitless knowledge here, so if you’re looking for a pain-fix, this is your avenue. Velen can vanquish both the pain and symptoms, all the while offering compliments and gentle smiles. Velen can also distract you from your current situation with epic tales of his travels across the cosmos.

Velen: I met someone once who went by the name “Thanos.” Quite an awful specimen. He had a chin that looked like unspeakable body parts, and had an unhealthy obsession with snapping. Thank the Light he's not Azeroth’s problem…

Muradin Bronzebeard: Anything can be fixed with alcohol. Muradin will offer you barrels of dwarven ale, on the house. He may invite you to visit the forges, where the heat is so intense it will numb any physical pain.

Muradin: Yer not so bad, Champion. Ol’ Arthas acted like his noggers were bleedin’ year round!

Aysa Cloudsinger: This woman is the queen of battling tough emotions. Aysa can teach you yoga poses to ease the pain and mystical monk tricks to “replenish your energy”. Aysa also has tons of punch bags and food (Pandaria is plentiful in both items).

Gelbin Mekkatorque: He’ll lend you tons of machines to skitter around and grab things so you don't have to move. Gelbin can also assign tons of cute gnome advisors to watch over you and keep you in good spirits. Your condition may actually inspire Gelbin to make some sort of thermal pad to combat the pain.

(Bonus Edition coming soon)

Sylvanas Windrunner: She is the one person you can't scare away. Sylvanas is in a constant state of rage, so she’ll support any outburst you have (she’ll probably execute someone if they really upset you). Sylvanas will also rally up some of her apothecaries to make a potion that will lessen the pain that you’re in.

Sylvanas: Do not take this the wrong way, Champion, but I think I prefer you like this. You are so much more interesting when you are filled with bloodlust.

Baine Bloodhoof: Oh no, they’re multiplying.

Baine Bloodhoof: Baine is much more considerate and gentle given your current situation. He will invite you to stay in Thunder Bluff and take some time off. He’ll offer you herbs to ease the pain (they also smell really good) and do tons of calming activities with you, like cloud watching and kayaking. Baine knows you’re not feeling well, so he will try his hardest to make sure everything goes well and that you’re not...provoked.

*Baine takes you out for a complimentary dinner*

Baine: We would like some dwarven ale, please.

Waiter: We’re out of that. Those three over there took all the brew we have. *points at the Alcoholics Club at a nearby table: Lor’themar Theron, Ji Firepaw, and Jastor Gallywix*

Baine, sweating: TIPSY IS THEIR NATURAL STATE. JUST STEAL IT BACK, FOR THE SAKE OF MOTHER EARTH, DAMMIT.

Ji Firepaw: Ji will be your personal cheerleader. Nothing can quench his upbeat, can-do personality. He’ll give you fluffy, encouraging hugs when you need them, and will buy out all the vendors for your favorite comfort food. If you feel like punching something, he’ll create a makeshift turnip punchbag, and cheer you on as you take out your fury.

Ji: Yes, Champion! You show that turnip who’s boss!

Trade Prince Jastor Gallywix: Jastor has never been more scared in his life, but to everyone’s surprise, he doesn't go off the grid and hide from all life forms. Jastor buys an entire bakery full of pastries for you, and invites you to his Pleasure Palace to relax.

Jastor: ‘Ey, you’re not so bad. I’ve known tons of bloodthirsty gals that wanna kill me. Just let me know when you feel like beating the crap out of somebody, there’s a few punks nearby that owe me money.

Halduron Brightwing: One of the most sympathetic to your situation. He’ll venture to the outdoors with you, maybe have a picnic, and listen to the birds and watch them flit from branch to branch. If you’re really upset, he’ll take a pair of bows, and offer to take you hunting.

Halduron: Shoot something! It’ll make you feel better!

Lor’themar: You can shoot me.

Halduron: This is why I staged that intervention…

Lor’themar Theron: Because of Lor’themar’s natural tipsy state and many years of experience with Sylvanas, nothing you do can phase him. He’ll invite you to stay in Silvermoon for awhile, with tons of lavish pillows and silky drapes. He’ll even introduce you to his super secret liquor cabinet (that’s when you know he cares about you).

Lor’themar: I have four choices: deal with an army of undead at our doorstep, face the growing vault of paperwork that was once my personal quarters, have a meeting with Sylvanas, or sit and sob with you on a pile of pillows, Champion. Believe me, there is nothing else on Azeroth that I would rather do.

Rommath: Rommath isn't into raw emotions and feelings, but he dealt with Kael’thas Sunstrider, the Dramatic Queen, for centuries. Rommath will summon chocolate and wine (he may slip some herbs into your glass without you knowing it), sit with you, and listen patiently if you rant.

(Bonus Edition coming soon)

~Illidan Stormrage~

Time was a curse. Life was an insult.

I paced the small length of the prison. Nine steps. That was all it took. In the end, the steps meant nothing: the spells that bound me to this endless night wouldn't allow the luxury of withering away. The steps were an illusion, a sense of purpose.

Purpose. . .meaning. . .nothing.

I turned on the ninth step, and repeated my labor across the cell. The echo of footsteps filled the void of silence.

Illusions were all I had, so I let myself live in one. Something that would satisfy…

Elves were immortal; we excelled in ways to purge time. There were two common ways of doing so: find love, or find purpose. I had learned the lesson of love: that it was fruitless. It was a wound that could not be cleansed. It lingered and festered. Empathy led to irrationality, and there was little resistance. In the face of burdened solitude and darkness, love was also a curse.

I spun on my heel. The echo sounded like swords linking together.

I turned my attention to purpose. It was a less complicated way of existence. Easy to follow. Like nine steps. They were clear before me. They could not be denied.

I craved purpose. Significance. If there were any true meaning to life, it should be something that mattered. Noble, even. A just cause.

For centuries, I devoted my life to my people. That devotion was fruitless and treacherous. My life had been reduced to nine steps in darkness, restrained by magical energies. I had no desire to revisit that purpose.

If I valued anything, it was sorcery. There was no denying its importance: it was the secret to how the world worked. I would not deny that the making of a second Well of Eternity was an exciting project—but those energies were lost now. Locked away, like I was. Out of reach. If that was to be my purpose, it would be more tortuous than time. There had to be other just causes!

Defeating the Legion was a purpose.

The Legion.

My fingers unconsciously crawled up to my eyes, where the two sockets lay empty, but there was no true abyss. The Legion still reigned across the cosmos, raging it's eternal conquest. The Legion was a constant—like time. A constant curse.

A purpose that would not wither. A purpose that was just. A purpose that promised revenge.

The next step I took was slightly quicker than the last. The Legion was the beginning of this long, eternal nightmare. This purpose had promise. How would I defy something that ravaged worlds? I would have to leave Azeroth, that was one. I needed allies, I needed a foothold. . .

I smiled. Time had bestowed a gift.

Join the journey on AO3!

Quest Objective: Bash old bosses.

~Sylvanas Windrunner, Eversong Woods~

Music. It darted in and out of the bone-white trees like the summer breeze. After everything, music had not forsaken me.

The woods were as I remembered them. Every branch had a graceful curve, housing crimson and golden leaves. The air was warm and sweet.

I walked in and out of shadow. The sunlight danced along the grass, dotted with yellow wildflowers. There was a natural perfection to these woods, a regality. I could never forget, no matter how hard I tried.

I followed the trickle of music. The birds called out like a symphony of bells. The last time I had been here, it was quiet. I could not recall what happened, but it made me grimace—or deepened it. Frowns were long-lasting. I could not remember why, and that was strange. It bothered me, like I was ignoring a dagger in my back.

I recognized the tune. I knew it by heart. Lyrics had not forsaken me. I murmured the words as I trekked along. I knew when I opened my mouth, the birds would stop to listen. They always did whenever I sang. There were others that stopped at the sound of my voice. . .I could not remember them…

I stepped into a clearing bathed in sunlight. A silhouette lounged on one of the pale rocks in the center. They were surrounded by an audience of wildflowers.

I stopped. I knew the loveliness of the lute. I knew the golden hair that shone in the light like the sun.

“Lirath?”

My brother looked up from his instrument. He smiled and waved. “Sylvie!”

I hadn't heard that nickname in a long time. It felt...odd seeing him. Almost wrong. Something happened to Lirath. I could not remember.

My younger brother stood and sprinted out to join me. I stayed where I was, on the edge of the shadows.

“Where’s Alleria? And Vereesa?” He asked.

I stiffened at the mention of their names. “I do not know.”

He scoffed. “Hiding, probably. We should go down to the shore again and pick shells, Suns versus Moons.”

His hair was golden like Alleria’s, shining like a beacon in the light. They were the Suns. My locks were silver, as were Vereesa’s. We were the Moons. We shined in the night.

I didn't offer a response. When it was evident that I wouldn’t speak, Lirath’s mouth opened once again, “So it's just us. That’s more than enough. Those nasty orcs don't stand against two of the Windrunner clan.”

“The orcs?” I said.

Lirath squinted at me. “They keep trying to invade Quel’Thalas. They’re like ogres and boogeymen. They must be stopped—it’s our duty, as rangers.”

“Boogeymen.” I repeated the word. No. I knew boogeymen. Orcs weren't those. They were many things; allies, enemies, but not that.

“Don't fret, Sylvie.” I flinched when Lirath reached out and touched my shoulders. It was a gentle and caring gesture. It was foreign to me.

“I’ll keep you safe from the boogeymen,” He promised.

I frowned—err, my frown deepened—as I studied him. So naive. So hopeful.

“No, you won't.”

A branch snapped across the clearing. My eyes left Lirath for a split second.

Lirath fell into me, gasping. “Syl…”

His body slumped, like a puppet with sliced strings. Crimson gushed from his torso. I felt my legs quiver as they knelt toward the ground.

“Lirath,” My gloved hand covered the wound. There was no arrow, no dagger or sword. No trace of ice or burnt flesh. Just red. Staining my fingers. Tainting the wildflowers.

My teeth grinded together. I was impressed I hadn't ground them into dust, everything considered (I couldn't remember why, of course). I pressed harder onto the wound. Blood drenched my fingers.

“Lirath!” I glanced up, searching for anyone, anything—

Him.

My lip curled up in disgust. I felt heat seep through my body, hot and branding like fire. Rage had not forsaken me.

Arthas Menethil stood at the edge of the clearing, on the line of light and shadow. When he stepped into the sun, the flowers withered and turned brown by his own insulting presence.

“You,” I growled.

I could still see his stupid grin on his loathsome face. He raised his arms, the metal plates of his armor clinking like iron on ice. “Me.”

I gathered up Lirath in my arms. “No. You can't take another. You can't take any more. You’ve already taken everything.”

“I took everything?” There was still that slight tremor in his baritone. Something unearthly. Something that repelled all life and still made me shiver. “No. What happened to loathing all life, Sylvie? I know you better than anyone, living and dead.”

I squeezed Lirath’s torso tighter. My arms were stained crimson up to my elbows. “No you don't!” I spat.

“Don't be angry, Sylvie,” Little rivers of blood spouted from Lirath’s mouth as he croaked. “You’re scary when you’re angry…”

“I think I do.” Arthas stopped before me and placed his hands on his hips, like he was reasoning with a child. He was the child! He was sick, he was the bastard who didn't know when to shut his damned mouth—

“You hated the dead—you loved me, of course—but you hated them. You joined them. You destroyed your own people, the living ones…”

I was weaponless. Grasping at straws and trembling with fury, I yanked a fistful of grass and dirt out of the earth and tossed it at him. “You made me do it!”

Arthas crouched before me. The stench of death lingered on his person like a perfume. “You didn't want to slaughter them. You don't want to slaughter her. You say you hate the living, but you can't lie to me. We’re connected. We always will be. You claim you hate humanity, yet here you are, standing between triumphant death and fading life. You’ve always stood between them, never belonging to either…”

Her? Slaughter her?

I glanced down at Lirath. Lirath was no more.

“Stars, Sylvanas,” Eona was limp in my grasp. Her skin was no longer the bright pink of a summer sky, instead the pale, violet-tinted complexion of Arthas. “You even have dreams about killing me? That is so wrong on so many levels. . .I want a raise.”

I stiffened. I couldn't kill her before. She was too much like…

“WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND THE LICH KING NOW?”

Oh, hell no.

I closed my eyes, inhaling even though the action felt odd. I reserved myself in what little way I could, and looked up again.

I glared at Garrosh Hellscream, standing behind Arthas, “There is a difference between me and this dim-witted moron! I don't have to prove anything to you, monster! You don't control me—neither of you do!”

“You tell ‘em—oh, okay, sure. Leave me here to die.” Eona coughed out a mouthful of blood as I set her on the ground and stood.

“You left me with the check at brunch.” I spat at her. “Taste vengeance.”

“It tastes like iron— bleck! —and rust.”

“Walk it off, Strider.” I turned back to my two enemies. I raised my fists, dripping with crimson.

They spoke as one, together, mocking. “You will never have control, Sylvanas. We will always be there. Humanity will suffer, and it will be because of you.”

I lunged with a shout. I aimed my fist at Arthas’ pathetic pale face.

My arm went through him. I was like a ghost. I was nothing. Just...faded.

I tried to swing at him a few more times, desperately wishing I could slam my fist into his smirk. I lunged at Garrosh. Nothing had changed. I went right through him. Nothing…

“Powerless.”

My nostrils flared. “I am Sylvanas Windrunner. I am in control.”

They uttered one word at the same time. “No.”

I screamed. I scratched and punched and hit.

Nothing.

“Poor creature. Life is agony to you, a disappointment.” A new voice snarled.

“Leave me alone!” I shrieked, and went again for Garrosh’s bald head.

“I can release you. I can take away the pain. All you have to do is release me. ” The voice declared.

I panted as I stood before both of them. There was nothing I could do. It was all nothing—Arthas and Garrosh and humanity. None of it mattered. In the end, there was nothing.

Join the journey on AO3!

Quest Objective: Learn how to ride a Gryphon.

~Khadgar, Outland~

“I'm going to do it.”

“Hmph. You’ve said that for years.”

“I mean it this time,” Turalyon pressed across the table. The ashen walls of Shattrath City surrounded us with the mute sounds of refugees. It was a solemn and hopeful place. I couldn't recall why we were here, but it felt right.

“I'm going to ask Alleria to marry me.”

“You’re serious?” My eyebrow teetered with disbelief.

Lyon snorted and stood from the table. His blond hair glittered like the light of the naaru that gleamed up in a fantastic spiral towards the sky. “Watch me.”

“The floor is yours, ringmaster.”

Alleria strode to our abode. Despite her slender form, she was the most intimidating of our party. Blue tattoos marked her face. Regal demeanour. The hard stare of the hunter. She had an eternal youth about her, but something seemed amiss. There was more...light. A flicker in her eyes. I felt like they hadn't appeared that way in years.

“My lady,” Lyon gathered her hands and placed light kisses on them. I tried to ignore how uncomfortable the gesture made the atmosphere. “I would like to ask for a moment of your time.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“To ask you to share every moment after.” Lyon tossed me a wink. My eyes widened with Alleria’s as he kneeled before his sun, his immortal deity that he worshipped every passing day.

“I’ve loved you for a while now…” For some reason, I couldn't remember how long exactly. Lyon continued,  “and I will continue to love you for the rest of my life.”

“You’re proposing?” Alleria cut him off. It shocked me how nothing could rattle her.

“Erm...yes.” Turalyon hissed out the last word, caught off guard.

Alleria blinked. Then a small smirk spread across her pale pink lips, “Took you long enough. I swore I would have to ask.”

Lyon glanced at me, as if asking me what to do with his gaze. I shrugged, “They say time makes the heart yearn.”

“Right,” Turalyon looked back up into Alleria’s stunning orbs for eyes. “What he said.”

“And we already share a child, Lyon.”

“Uh...Khadgar…”

“Even after raising a child together, you still love her. That is an impressive accomplishment. Put that in the win column.”

Alleria chuckled, squeezing his hands. “Yes. My answer is yes.”

Turalyon leapt to his feet and punched the air with a wide grin on his face. “Yes!”

The two embraced and shared a loving kiss.

~Stormwind, Cathedral of Light~

Lilies sprouted at the end of every pew. I stood behind Turalyon, underneath the massive arch of blooming blossoms. Prophet Velen hummed under his breath as trumpets sounded.

Lyon leaned backwards towards me, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “This is the best day of my life.”

I beamed at him. “You deserve happiness, my friend.”

He laughed quietly. “Thank you, my friend.”

Arator stood at my side, casting a look out at the many eager faces. The double doors at the end of the hall of light creaked open.

Alleria did not wear white lace or layers of silk. Her armor gleamed like a thousand shimmering crystals. A longer cloak trailed after Alleria, and wildflowers entwined through her hair and leather garb.

I looked over at Turalyon. He had the face of someone gazing out at a breathtaking sunset, the kind that brought tears to the eyes that life could be so beautiful. Turalyon wore that expression, and so did the woman walking down the aisle.

They exchanged short yet heartfelt vows (I ended up writing both of them) before sharing a kiss, and the cathedral rose with applause. Pink petals fell from the ceiling like freshly fallen snow.

The reception was to take place outside, near the edge of Elwynn Forest. There weren't many traditional qualities to the wedding, but nothing about Alleria and Turalyon’s relationship was traditional.

I sat at one of the many round tables with white skirts, sipping wine idly as I stared at the happy couple.

“Khadgar? Is that really you, after all these years?”

What in the Light’s name—? The familiar voice made my head snap up—but not too far.

Eona’s mother, Zeldormu, stood before me.

She didn't stand too far from the ground; her half-orc, half-dwarven form was short and muscled. Everything looked the same: the dark hair with crimson tips, the tiny tusks poking out at her lips…

Zelda smiled. That smile...I hadn't seen it in...I couldn't remember how long. But I knew it was a while. I hadn't seen her this jubilant since...what was his name? He was very important, very clever…

“You haven't aged a day,” Zelda teased and took the chair next to mine.

“My secret is cucumbers—don’t tell anyone,” I raised a mock finger to my lips.

Zelda laughed. I felt like I hadn't heard it in years. “I’ve really missed you, Khadgar.”

“And I you, Zelda.” I bowed my head. I had missed Zelda. I missed her strength, her unbreakable will—we had been through much together, but I couldn't recall any of it at the moment. Something to do with the Betrayer…I heard whispers…

  ‘I'm stuck here, on this new planet I don't even know, pregnant. This is not where I was supposed to be in my life right now.’

‘I suppose we’re both stuck in our lives, in places we aren't supposed to be.’

Zelda had always felt like an equal. There had always been an unique understanding between us, uncommon to every other friendship I had. Nothing compared to Zelda.

“It's been so long—it’s good to see you.” The emotion made my words thick. “It really is. How are you? You look so…”

“Happy?” She guessed. She laughed again. “It's the strangest thing. I never thought I would be after everything...but I am. Thrall sends his regards—his children are lovely. I had a drink with Arthas on my journey here, I never thought I’d say this, but...he might actually be pulling off this king-thing. Jaina’s a good match for him.”

“And him?”

“Who? Oh…” Zelda glanced down. “You mean…”

“Yes.”

Her lips curved up. “He's perfect.”

Warmth seeped through my chest at her joy. Zelda was completely content. For one brief moment, there seemed to be justice in the world. Everything was—

“Khadgar! Come meet this young man, I think you’ll like him.”

My fingers clutched the stem of my wine glass as I stood from my seat. I looked over at Turalyon, “Who is it—?”

I stopped short. All of the breath in my lungs emptied, like it had been knocked out of me in battle. Turyalon’s hand clapped the shoulder of a thin man draped in simple robes. His hair was dark, like the feathers of a raven. His skin was marble, polished and gleaming with youth. His blue eyes were familiar.

Because I saw them every single time I looked in a mirror.

“This youth is a mage,” Turalyon introduced him, shaking his entire body as he patted his thin shoulder.

“There will be no introductions.” The dark-haired mage said. His voice was not commanding. It was soft yet sure. “We’ve met before.”

The dark-haired mage left Turalyon’s side. He walked towards me. He made no sound as he moved across the grass, silent as a snake.

“We met long ago, when memories were young and dreams were big and grand.” The dark-haired mage declared.

A shriek cut the silence of the forest. A flash of black flew before my eyes. Startled, I looked down at my feet. The raven’s feathers were sleek and shiny with its own blood. The body was twisted and mangled, broken beyond compare.

When I looked up, the dark-haired mage stood before me.

“Yes. We have met before.”

The forest had disappeared. The air was chilly and electric with arcane. The wind tugged at my robes.

We were atop the tower of Karazhan.

“Do you honestly think you fit in with that world? Weddings, smiles, joy.” The dark-haired mage spat the merry words.

Wind shrieked in my ears like a wailing child. My lips had pursed into grim line. “I know who you are.”

“The past. Regret. What you could have had, all of the opportunities. They’re gone now.” His eyes glowed blue.

“There is knowledge—” I began.

“That is all you have now. Books. Little fantasies to drown out the truth, to make it hurt less,” The mage’s breath hissed as he drew closer. “They mock you. They let you escape your mind, but not your body.”

I started to retreat as he advanced. My boots scraped against the dark stone as I moved backwards.

I was suddenly more aware of the wind. How strong it was—or how incredibly weak I was. The wind was like time, and I was at its mercy. Would there ever be true justice? When would the blizzards cease, and breathe a soft summer breeze?

The wind tousled through Young Khadgar’s hair. “Enjoy the books. There is no happy ending.”

His wrinkle-less hands rose and a beam of arcane shot out. Pain erupted in my chest. I stumbled backward—

And my foot jerked in the open air.

I screamed as I toppled off the side of Karazhan, like a raven with broken wings.

The wind burned as I fell. It tugged and pulled with invisible claws as I kept falling, falling, falling…

“Haunted by the past, tormented by it's empty promises. Khadgar, the most powerful, and the most powerless.” A blood-curdling voice entered my mind.

“I will set you free. Release me, and I release you from the harshness of reality.”

I knew that voice. Yes! Sael’orn! It felt like ages ago since our scuffle in Dalaran. Was all of this her…?

I can't set her free. Then everyone else is tortured by their reality.

So sorry for all of the reblogs and the avalanche of posting at those times on this blog, that was only because I may be deleting them off my new personal blog, and you guys loved them so much, I didn’t want to permanently chuck them. This way you should be able to find everything here, tons of love and laughs that you deserve. 

But today we are going to have some actual new content! Yay!! Thank you so much for your patience, Awesome Adventurers. We’ll start off with some angst: We will have the last two chapters from my “nightmare” theme in my Warcraft series, but even if you don’t read Thrilling Adventures of Eona, I still think some of y’all might love to take a look at Khadgar and Sylvanas’ dark sides.