The hammering of construction had halted this afternoon as painters and plasterers continued their finishing touches of the shimmering spires surrounding Farstrider Square. Ruthar took note of the temporary silence as he stood beneath the lamp outside of the Lodge. He had been standing out here more regularly over the past few days, enjoying the crisp air - a stark contrast from the dust-addled desks that were busy being cleared out and transported to their new and improved offices. In private truth, however, temporary respite was only half the reason he stood here.
“You can find me in Farstrider Square,” he replayed silently in his mind after having removed his guise at the masquerade, words ushered forth by the strength of the Veritas Noir in the presence of those who dared to drink the fortified wine of truth. The invitation, if one could call it that, was offered to a figure known only to him as the Lady Nyx, a mysterious individual with whom he spent a majority of the masquerade’s proceedings. Hiding behind the ruse of Count Cinderblaze, Ruthar’s self-created Lord of untruth, the Ranger Captain greatly enjoyed the evening’s proceedings - the conversation and the company was wonderful while the outing was the release from daily mundanity that he had both needed and desired. Regrettably, the veritas and his unveiling cut the evening short for what fun is a masquerade without an air of secrecy?
“A reply from Captain Talvien, Ranger Captain,” a voice offered, interrupting his momentary recollection. Ruthar nodded as a young ranger approached, a Farstrider in his first few years who had been assigned as a runner. He held a bound piece of parchment out toward Ruthar as his thick satchel hinted at many other deliveries to be made.
Ruthar smiled as he received the letter. “Most excellent, Farstrider Sinvan - your expedience is most assuredly appreciated. I take it you are heading inside with those?” he asks, looking toward the satchel at Sinvan’s side.
“Yes, sir, right away, sir,” he replied quickly, either itching to continue or, at the very least, putting on a good show for his superior. Ruthar nodded at that. “Most excellent, your haste is noteworthy. I won’t delay your duties, but, should you have a moment after your satchel is emptied, I’d like to continue our earlier conversation about getting you assigned to a patrol.”
Farstrider Sinvan perked up at that as any insincerity fell fully away. “You very much honour me with your time, Ranger Captain,” he said quickly. “I very much look forward to that.”
Ruthar nodded, gesturing toward the Lodge. “As you were, Farstrider - I’ll see you presently.” Sinvan offered a hasty salute before moving along, his pace quickened by the excitement of what is yet to come. The Ranger Captain watched him dash forward with vim as his mind returned to times long passed when he himself was rushing toward the prospects of the future and the promises of tomorrow.
“What are you running toward, now?” he silently asked himself, both as preamble for the letter in his hands and as a general reflection on his current affairs. In truth, the answer was heavy. His direct superior, Ranger Lord Dawnstrider, had been preparing for years for retirement and the rumour mill had firmly placed Ruthar at the top of a short list of would-be promotions. That, and the concerns of many about the looming threats of the Void had taken a majority of his attention. He continued to train the next generation of Farstriders to the best of his ability, as the young Sinvan could attest, and he had accompanied Knight-Lord Dawnblade’s research endeavour in the Ghostlands. Busy was putting it mildly, but still he found the time to stand here in Farstrider Square, wondering if the Lady of mysticism would make her entrance.
After another moment and a glance through the Square, he untied the parchment in his hands to read the words of Talvien. The Captain, working to extirpate a small demonic intrusion, had enlisted the aid of an Illidari known as Al'Taerin Sunmourner. Ruthar, seeing both the wisdom and danger in such an act, found himself interested in meeting with this Illidari for both a full update on the dangers and proceedings as well as the potential establishment of long-term partnership. The Captain and he had gone back and forth a few times to arrange a meeting, but this notice had finally cemented that plan with a date, time, and location.
Ruthar folded the missive and tucked it away as he continued his watch of the Square. He smirked to himself as he imagined striding around the streets as Count Cinderblaze once more, the fiery cloak sparking against the cobblestone, but the image slipped away, the flames replaced with feathers and the cloak replaced with chainmail. The ever-present call of duty trumpeted forth, and Ruthar collected himself to meet it.
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Magistrix Sidori Silverspell (@inathia)
Magister Vinlan Duskfury (@ronaestrider)
Get to know <Phoenix Guard>'s new Magistry sponsors (NPCs) and what criteria they have set for reactivating the dormant military unit. Surely, they won't have to use this document and nothing will ever go wrong...
(Cross-posted from our Discord server in case anyone is interested! We will be officially re-opening at the Midnight pre-patch.)
Magister Vinlan Duskfury triple-checks his timepiece before slipping it back into his phoenix-emblazoned robes, the purple cloth and silver thread dancing in the illuminated streetlights as the evening hour begins to settle. He nods to passers-by as he patiently waits, a product of his constant penchant for arriving quite early. As he glances up to the building before him, he is greeted by a luxurious domicile, one fitting for a Magistrix of Sidori Silverspell’s station.
His mind continues to wander as he paces patiently. His curiosity of the upcoming meeting grows as he thinks of Silverspell, her interests, and her current affairs. The Runesworn project is, of course, well-known and well-regarded, a scholarly mission of safety and security, but how that intersects with Vinlan’s militaristic interests is an item that weighs heavily upon his mind.
As the timepiece clicks closer to the 5pm hour, Vinlan straightens his posture and dusts off the front of his robes to ensure an impeccable display. He takes a few steps toward the ornate door of the Magistrix’s domain, knocking gently upon the wood to announce his timely arrival.
Magistrix Sidori Silverspell’s residence is near the Sunfury Spire, in a neighborhood of wealthy scholars that either never leave their homes or are never actually there due to research demands. Silverspell is among the latter, owing to the injuries she sustained during the Third War. An apprentice Runewarden answers the door when Magister Duskfury knocks, bowing his head respectfully as he steps aside to allow the guest entry.
Calling it a residence seems inaccurate when it feels more like a library. An enchantment makes the foyer of the apartment seem much larger than it actually is, with a large room lined in books and bewitched tomes flitting around like birds. The Magistrix sits at her desk in the middle of all the organized chaos and, with some effort, rises to greet him.
Normally seen with a hood in public, Magistrix Silverspell’s striking white hair is uncovered and her braid loosened. Her red and gold robes shimmer with their own enchantments and she regards her guest with a warm smile.
“Magister Duskfury, thank you for coming on such short notice. Do you prefer pleasantries, or getting right to the point?”
Vinlan bows in deep respect in response to her greeting. “Pleasantries are always appreciated, Magistrix, especially in such a beautiful spire. Though, please - do not rise on my account.” He unfolds the letter of invitation that Sidori sent for this meeting, tapping it with his fingers.
“I must say,” he begins, still holding himself fully. “I was quite surprised to have seen this come to my desk. It is no secret that we operate in somewhat differently-focused echelons within the Magistry.” He pauses to smile and bow his head once again in her direction. “It is an honour, but of course - I look forward to the potentiality of bringing our circles closer to orbit.”
He folds the paper in his fingers before gesturing to a chair near her desk. “May I?”
Sidori seems relieved to not have to fully rise, instead leaning back in her chair with a contented posture and expression. With a hand featuring numerous rings and enchanted tattoos, she gestures for Vinlan to sit opposite of her. With that same hand, she waves to an apprentice who scurries off to a side room. Said apprentice returns quickly with a porcelain tea set and begins setting out service for two.
“I would venture to say that we exist in completely different specialties, actually,” Sidori responds with a light chuckle, “But there have been times before and certainly times ahead that such opposite specialties must work together. Have you been keeping up to date on the reports from Khaz Algar and K’aresh detachments of Thalassian forces? There are Reliquary agents stationed in both places who have written concerning reports about Hallowfall in particular. K’aresh is, well… a vision of a future I hope does not come to pass.”
The elder Magistrix lets out a light sigh as her apprentice pours cups of herbal tea.
“Although I am a Runewarden without a Runestone to guard at this time, I still have a connection to the convergence of leylines here in Quel’Thalas. They shuddered with the re-emergence and subsequent defeat of Dimensius.”
Vinlan nods as he listens intently, his eyes tracing the ornate patterns of the teacups as the offering is poured. His mind turns over her topic of conversation while he nods slowly. “Yes, indeed,” he admits softly, measuring his words with care. “The whisperings of the Void’s machinations have spread throughout most circles, both magical and otherwise.”
His features darken momentarily. “I do not believe it to be a mystery that Dimensius’s defeat was crafted by the Harbinger - another twisted step up her spire of games.” He shakes his head with an audible sigh. “You know I’ve spoken heavily on the subject of Thalassian martial defenses, but do permit me to make myself plain, Magistrix - it is not that I see weakness in the Magistry or our magical abilities as some would suggest. I only mean to assist in unifying Silvermoon’s collective abilities by ensuring that our individualized talents are collectively focused on defense.”
He takes a moment to pause, releasing his reflexive grip upon the wooden armrests. As the apprentice steps away from the pair, Vinlan breathes deeply to inhale the steaming aroma to permit the tea to calm the subject. “It may be bold of me to say so, but I have a suspicion that such a desire for unification is of interest to you as well.” He smiles warmly over the desk to Sidori before gesturing to the tea. He waits patiently for Sidori to take up her cup first.
“Is that a hint of wintersbite from Alterac I detect? You must be in the very good graces of Botanist Nathera, I take it. Truly, I am flattered by the offering.”
The Magistrix keeps her gaze leveled on Vinlan as the tea is poured, measuring the darkening of his gaze as if she can read his very soul and intentions. Her scrutinizing gaze is redirected as she lifts the teacup to her lips, taking a sip that is followed by a contented sigh.
“You are a man of good taste, Magister Duskfury,” Sidori comments with a smile, which is tempered by the severity of the discussion at hand.
“My pursuits and interests are largely of a scholarly nature, but it would be foolish of me not to prepare for war when I feel that one is on the horizon. What happened in Khaz Algar, I fear, may be but a taste of what may be visited upon Quel’Thalas. The Void consumes, Magister, and we are keepers of a most sacred fount of power.”
With a pause for another sip of tea, she continues.
“Knight-Lord Dawnblade was the head and organizer of the Runesworn. Her talents, while vast, are much more suited to martial endeavors — I asked her about the Phoenix Guard. And I asked her, in turn, to ask her former Lieutenant Commander about it. They are willing to wear the mantles of leadership again if needed. And if the Phoenix Guard is to be reborn, we will need a sponsor within the Magistry with more military knowledge and influence than I.”
Sidori bows her head politely to Vinlan, suggesting that he is, in fact, that Magister.
Vinlan lifts the secondary teacup to his lips in a moment of brief contentment. As he looks to the steaming liquid before him, the comforts dissipate quickly as the aroma of Alterac is replaced by one of acrid smoke. The gleaming spires of Quel’Thalas shudder beneath the onslaught of the Void’s machinations as the people scatter and scream. He blinks as the tea swirls slowly in his cup before him, the vision a glimpse of the fears he too holds.
“I admit that I share your concerns, Magistrix,” he replies softly as he places the delicate china down before him. “Alleria, powerful as she may be, is a lesser pawn compared to the forces that may descend upon Quel’Thalas. If the Sunwell had such an adverse reaction to her visit, I can only imagine what else may be possible.”
He lifts the teacup again for another sip, settling into the comforts of militaristic conversation. “Ah, the Phoenix Guard - well-known for its willingness to leave nothing to chance. A shame it was eaten by the Windrunner war machine those years ago. I admit that I was surprised of your selection of Knight-Lord Dawnblade for the Runesworn project - seems an…interesting fit, if you’ll permit my opinion.”
He sits back slightly and lifts his cup for another sip, his posture one of a Magister preparing to enter a discussion in which he knows he holds value. He says nothing of offering a sponsorship yet, preferring to continue to hunt and needle. If there is anything these high-level members of the Magistry were capable of, it is posturing.
Sidori lets out a light sigh as the subject of the Runesworn project and her unorthodox choices in leadership are brought up. With a dismissive wave, she again reaches for the teacup to bring it to her lips.
“All of my years of strictly academic pursuit of such a project yielded little in the way of results. Hints, here and there, without the necessary force to take it across the finish line. The Knight-Lord is well known for taking orders and getting an assignment done. Sadly, I overestimated how many scholars she had in her retinue…”
The Magistrix trailed off into silence for a beat, then flicked her gaze up to meet Vinlan’s with a playful sort of annoyance.
“Oh, Magister Duskfury, must I really beg?”
Vinlan chuckles at that, leaning back as the proverbial ball lands on his side of the court. “I would never deign to make someone of your station do anything of the sort,” he quips, taking the final sip of his tea. He places the gentle cup down upon the edge of Sidori’s desk, leaning in slightly to turn the topic of conversation quite serious.
“Tell me, Magistrix,” he begins, his voice slightly lower. “If we are to lift the Phoenix Guard up once more, pull it from the ashes as it were, do you believe it can slough off the stains of the past? It is no mystery that there were some…unsavory events in its history. Suncrown, notably, but also their penchant for running directly into the jaws of the beast. While some would call that bravery, it can also be foolish.”
He pauses a brief moment to regard her expression, but decides to press onward regardless, embracing the opportunity to have the floor. “You know more than anyone that I am keen on shoring up militaristic defenses, there is no reason to hide such wishes any longer - I know that such desires are no longer uniquely my own, especially now. I just wonder if bringing forth an old contingent once again is the better move compared to birthing a new one.”
He sits back a touch, looking to Sidori curiously. “I suppose my question is ultimately simple, though I want to make a point to not question particular military dossiers as we know many of the Guard are abundantly capable. But, why them instead of something new?”
Magistrix Silverspell watched Magister Duskfury from over the rim of her teacup as he jested about not making her beg for his help. Her incredulousness was skillfully hidden behind her pleasant features, even offering him a smile as she set the teacup down in its saucer, then the saucer down on the table next to her. Sidori’s long, thin fingers steepled together just below her chin as she thought on her answer.
“To critique just the Phoenix Guard for unsavory moments in the face of insurmountable odds would be unfair to critique our people as a whole of our lapses in judgement when we faced survival or annihilation. You and I both know that we, as members of the Magistry, had a direct hand in some of those unintended outcomes,” she gives him a pointed look with her fel green gaze, using the very corruption of her own features as a way to underscore her point.
She leans back in her chair again, bony elbows poking prominent depressions in the plush armrest of her chair. Her fingers still remain steepled at her lips. Finally, she rests her hands in her lap.
“The Phoenix Guard is the most logical choice because they made a name for themselves fighting those insurmountable odds and surviving. By being the sword in campaigns outside our borders, they kept Quel’Thalas safe. If they are called upon to be the shield in a time of need, they will fight tooth and nail to fulfill their oath of service,” Sidori’s voice, normally gentle and measured, becomes a touch more impassioned with each point she’s made.There used to be stories of her delivering such speeches at Magistry gatherings or lectures at the Academy; most thought that she had lost her fight after the war.
“I don’t mean to be fatalistic or even nihilistic about this, Magister Duskfury. But you and I both understand the enormity of cosmic powers and related horrors from Karesh that could very well be waiting to converge upon us. What is the nature of the void?” she asks in a tone not unlike an Academy professor, and answers her own question. “The void’s nature is to consume. Where is the brightest spot of its antithesis on all of Azeroth? Right here. The Sunwell.”
Finally, the Magistrix sighs.
“...I can’t lose it again, Vinlan,” she murmurs, foregoing formality in the name of vulnerability. “None of us can. It’s up to us to stack the deck in our favor and use everything in our power to help make sure that doesn’t happen again. I believe the Phoenix Guard to be a part of that.”
Vinlan removes his formal guard, his defenses lowered with the veritas of the subject matter. He allows a lengthy pause before taking a long, soft sigh, looking up into her fel green eyes with his own. He manages a soft smile, a genuine one.
“You know,” he begins, his tone markedly different as he drops the guise of a conniving Magister. “There are so many who would say that we operate at opposite sides of the spectrum. That your penchant for academics and my militaristic interests are to be at odds.” He sits a little straighter, shifting his body to face her fully.
“They would be wrong,” he says firmly with an accompanying pause for emphasis. “And I am most glad to see it. You are right, and we all, myself included, know it. The Sunwell must be defended at all costs by any, and every, means necessary - our very continued survival depends on that. I don’t think any of us can lose it again - I would fear for what we would become.”
“To reflect on my earlier points,” he continues, “I mean not to criticize the Guard, truly. I only posit potential lines of questioning that others within our ranks may consider. I cannot and will not deny their potential, their strength, their courage, or their merits - their dossiers speak fully upon all of that.”
He relaxes somewhat, still continuing his thoughts as they swirl from one to the next. “Ultimately, that you chose the Knight-Lord to lead the Runesworn project speaks to your trust in militaristic affairs, something that most assuredly piqued my interest. While unexpected, your summons this evening has laid bare your plan, your vision, and your goals, and I am humbled by your openness on the subject.”
He leans forward, glancing across the desk to see if any documentation had already been drafted while returning his voice to one of formality. “Magistrix Silverspell, it would be my honour to offer my support of recommissioning the Phoenix Guard in an effort to strengthen the defenses of Quel’Thalas. I believe our co-sponsorship could send an important message to the Magistry at large, and I do thank you for the trust and the opportunity.”
Sensing the discussion reaching a favorable conclusion, one of Sidori’s attendants brings in a leatherbound file folder with a formal declaration having already been drafted. With a bow, the attendant presents the file folder and Sidori shows the new charter for the Phoenix Guard.
Proclamation for
Circumstances Regarding Reactivation of the Phoenix Guard
WHEREAS, the mixed military entity known as the Phoenix Guard shall be considered for reactivation should the following criteria be met:
• Military action taken against Quel’Thalas, the Sunwell or other territories belonging to the Kingdom.
• Defense of existing Runestones or minor Runestone fragments discovered through the Runesworn project.
• Existential threat to Quel’Thalas, regardless of nature of aggressor.
• Any other emergency requiring decisive military action for defense or stabilization.
WHEREAS, should the Phoenix Guard be reactivated for duty, it shall be overseen by the undersigned officials:
• Magistrix Sidori Silverspell
• Magister Vinlan Duskfury
Both of the Sunspire, reporting to the Regent-Lord and Grand Magister.
WHEREAS, should the Phoenix Guard be reactivated for duty, it shall be commanded by the named individuals:
• Knight-Lord Ina’thia Dawnblade, of the Blood Knight Order
•Ranger Captain Ruthar Ronaestrider, of the Farstriders
The undersigned members of the Magistry sign this document understanding the responsibility of the defense of Quel’Thalas, and do so willingly and without hesitation. Should the time come for dire measures to protect the kingdom, both Magistry officials will activate the below enchantments on the parchment.
HEREBY SIGNED by,
𝑀𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓍 𝒮𝒾𝒹𝑜𝓇𝒾 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓁𝓁
(The rune intended for Sidori is an elegant circular pattern with four circles within it, referencing the Runestones of Quel’Thalas and penned in glowing blue ink.)
𝔐𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔙𝔦𝔫𝔩𝔞𝔫 𝔇𝔲𝔰𝔨𝔣𝔲𝔯𝔶
(The rune intended for Vinlan is a more geometric representation of a phoenix and the sun, referencing his preference toward militaristic strength and penned in glowing red ink.)
Sidori waves an enchanted feather quill over to her hand, which she snatches out of the air. Without any fanfare, she signs her name in large and flowing script next to her rune. Once satisfied with her signature, she floats the parchment and quill to Vinlan.
Finally, she offers a kind – but weary – smile.
“I hope that we do not need to use this.”
Vinlan takes his time reading the document with deep scrutiny before taking the quill in kind and affixing his signature.
“I couldn’t agree more,” he adds after added the final filigree of his signature. “Though I believe I speak for many when I offer that I’d rather be prepared than surprised.”
He places the quill down next to the document and looks upon it, the swirling official text glinting with the power of their combined signatures. “The Sword and Shield rings out from the Spires once more, Magistrix Silverspell. I thank you for the opportunity to see it so. May this partnership bear much fruit in the time to come.”
Ruthar looks around with a smile, removing his helmet as he clinks his way through the upper chambers of the Phoenix Guard's former headquarters on Quel'Danas. His chainmail rings over the gentle sounds of the shore as he breathes in the salted air. He relishes the moment before heading through the curtains.
There's a light flickering in the old Commander's office of the Phoenix Guard's former base. Heavy steps crisscross the office, signaling the clanking of armor and weaponry belonging to one Knight-Lord Dawnblade. Once in the office, she's revealed to be... cleaning? Dusting? She has a dirty rag in her hand, wiping surfaces and fighting back sneezes.
Ruthar watches curiously before softly clearing his throat. "A sight for sore eyes," he says gently, wafting some dust away from his face. "Though I didn't expect your letter to summon me here for manual labour."
Inathia abruptly sneezes when Ruthar addresses her, then turns to regard him with a smile. A sniffly smile. It's just dust, -of course-. "Right? A little homesick, I guess. Turns out, putting fancy rocks back together is harder than I thought." Ina'thia crosses the office to pull open the curtains and open the windows overlooking the harbor.
Ruthar chuckles at that, leaning his bow against the wall near the door so he can pick up some papers from the ground. "I did have my doubts, to be honest," he chides mirthfully. "It was hard to imagine you leading a community of scholars and researchers. No progress to report on that end, then?"
Ina'thia laughs in turn, "Turns out it was, primarily, one scholar and researcher. One and a half if you include Magister Everblaze. But what can you do, when the Magistry tasks you to something? You do it."
Ruthar nods as he continues to gather old papers. He lifts one off the ground with his own signature on it, an action report from the Broken Shore. "We did a whole lot of things that were required of us," he says as he scans the document. "And we were damn good at it."
Ina'thia leans against the now clean desk, crossing her arms. Her gaze falls to a stack of papers recounting Draenor -- and how Ranger Captain Ronaestrider had almost been lost to the Iron Horde's war machine. Banishing the unpleasant memory with a grin, she looks back over to Ruthar. "You're damn right we were. To the point where I feel so uncertain about everything else I've been up to, as of late. The Magistry project, desk duty with the Blood Knights... dare I say it... quiet domesticity."
Ruthar nods knowingly. "I know what you mean. Ever since this nonsense on K'aresh, it's been an endless sea of meetings of defensive thoughts and concerns. A lot of talk, very little action. Not that I'm particularly interested in this Void nonsense looking upon Quel'Thalas."
Ina'thia raises a brow, "You went to K'aresh? Or just dealing with the meetings and chaos? That explains why Magistrix Silverspell summoned me..."
Ruthar shakes his head. "The latter. Farstrider leadership has made a point to circle the proverbial wagons in the aftermath. A responsible move, but you know how bureaucracy can be." He lifts a brow. "Silverspell? I'm not sure I'm familiar."
Ina'thia keeps her arms crossed, "She's the Magistrix who initiated the Runesworn project. Surviving Runewarden from the Third War -- I digress. She seemed worried about something, and asked me about the Phoenix Guard."
Ruthar halts his paper-gathering at that, standing up straight with his interest quite piqued. "Oh? Does she have interest in starting a militarized unit in tandem with the research initiative?"
Ina'thia seems troubled, evidenced by the furrow of her brow. "She didn't signal any particular interest -- a military venture seems absurd and unnecessary at this time, doesn't it? She just kept saying 'in case' or 'in the event of' and 'would you do it again?'"
Ruthar 's eyes shimmer at that as the sun dances upon the upper reaches of the spire. "In a heartbeat," he says without so much as a moment's pause.
Ina'thia doesn't respond immediately, but a genuine smile creeps across her lips. "I told her the same, but only if my Lieutenant Commander was interested. It seems we are woefully -bereft- of a military conflict, though. Unless you count what happens when the Lord-Magister can't get his hair to style perfectly."
Ruthar chuckles at that. "A conflict, to be sure, but hardly a military one. I dare say I'm not qualified for something of -that- scale anyhow. I leave that to your particular realm of expertise," he says with a playful smirk.
Ina'thia smirks, "The key is to just mess it up even more, clearly." Another light chuckle has her fussing with her own hair, mostly out of habit. "I doubt we'll get the Starfrosts on board, though."
Ruthar nods as his eyes shift over to a piece of parchment with Syrielle in the middle of a field of text. "They have most assuredly continued on, for better or worse. I daresay that we are a bit more...predictable."
Ina'thia finishes fussing with her hair, "They seem well-established. A doctor and a Magistrix, a kid and all of that." There's a strange tone in her voice when she says doctor, in reference to Gattius. A mix of disdain and disappointment. "It's for the best."
Ruthar watches her curiously for a moment. "This is starting to sound more official than I think you're letting on. Is this a serious inquiry of this Magistrix, then? Seems a hasty departure from the focus of the Runesworn."
Ina'thia shakes her head, "It's fun to think about, but I question the seriousness and necessity of it. Came here and started cleaning to keep my hands busy, lest I beat the absolute shit out of an unsuspecting Initiate."
Ruthar laughs at that. "I shouldn't laugh because I know that wasn't a joke. Even so, I do miss working with the recruits - too many meetings at hand for that at present." He rustles a few more documents and clicks them in order against the desk. "Did you hear that Ranger Lord Dawnstrider is formally retiring?"
Ina'thia allows herself to reminisce. "I miss being out in the field, holding the line between demons -- orcs -- demonic orcs, even -- and our Spellweavers and menders." She sighs, snapping back to attention. "Ranger Lord Dawnstrider? That's who you've been working under, right?"
Ruthar glances down to the shoreline, his mind recreating the demonic scenes of what feels like a lifetime ago. "Indeed," he replies. "He promoted me to Ranger Captain in the months prior to the Dark Portals rebirth."
Ina'thia taps her clawed fingertips on the desk's surface. "Will you seek promotion, then? I think it's about time, honestly. You've more than earned it. Promotion now will give you time to adjust, rather than in the middle of a war."
Ruthar drums the desk with his armored fingers. "Humility is the default when it comes to such matters, you know me - if it's meant to be, then it shall be." His eyes dart to his own title under his signature on a nearby document. "Still, the word is getting around and I've placed the bug where it needs to go. The Ranger Lord and I have been quite close over the years."
Ina'thia follows Ruthar's gaze to the page with his signature. "Look at you, boasting humility yet playing the game of whispers. You've clearly spent a long time in Silvermoon..." she teases.
Ruthar chuckles. "You don't get anywhere if you can't play the game, even if you don't like it." He sighs exaggeratedly. "Perhaps I would have been a decent fit for your Runesworn Magistry project after all."
Ina'thia rests a hand over her heart, where her Knight-Lord insignia is pinned to her tabard. "I can think of no one more deserving of such a station and the honor it brings. If you need a recommendation, I will deliver it personally."
Ruthar smiles softly at that. "Much appreciated, of course. Should such a note be required, you will be the first to know. I'm not sure anyone on Azeroth has seen the best or worst of me as you have."
Ina'thia squints a little bit as she tries to recall something about the worst of Ruthar. "Well, there was that one time, in Draenor..." she laughs. "Your so-called worst is positively angelic compared to mine. You'll be fine."
Ruthar chuckles. "You literally pulled me out of the jaws of death's door on more than one occasion - I'd say that counts as the worst. Unless, of course, you want to count my relationship missteps, though those are probably best left markedly -off- the record."
Ina'thia smirks, "That -does- remind me of that one time in Draenor, actually. When we all thought we were going to die, and everyone was freezing..." she laughs. "Rest assured, none of that will get mentioned. And I once again reiterate -- your worst compared to mine makes you look like an angel. Don't worry about it."
Ruthar nods. "There is a lot of uncertainty on the horizon, but with uncertainty comes opportunity. Speaking of, I fear I glossed over your own opinions on the Magistrix and such affairs. Would she close the Runesworn project if some sort of situation would arise, or did she not even mention any of that yet?"
Ina'thia pauses to think on that question for a moment. "You know, I'm not sure. If something severe enough to recommission the Phoenix Guard ever happened, a scholarly project for magic rocks would have to be put on pause. Wouldn't you think?"
Ruthar nods. "I would assume so, but, then again, magical defenses and artifacts could be a huge benefit depending on the conflict."
Ina'thia shrugs, "At the end of the day, it's not really my decision. It's her project, and I can't very well do both if enough shit hits the fan that I'm a Commander again."
Ruthar nods. "Quite so." He taps his chin in thought. "Have you heard anything from a Magister Duskfury? He's been helpful to the Farstriders for a while. He's a pro-military Magister, a former Sunreaver, as it were. I wonder if he'd be a great point of contact for your Magistrix should her attention be turned toward military interests."
Ina'thia quirks a brow, "Odd that I've not heard of him. Regardless, I'll pass his name along to Magistrix Silverspell. If things do go south enough to bring back the Guard, it'd be worthwhile for them to know of each other's interests."
Ruthar smirks again. "Consider it another chess piece in the game - such a meeting might push a hand on the Magistrix's scale and further her interest in such things."
Ina'thia mutters under her breath, "If it keeps my nose out of a dusty old book..." she smiles. "We can put our thumb on the scale just a little bit, too. Not that I'm hoping for a disaster, or anything."
Ruthar glances to the desk filled with stacked reports of conflict after conflict. "I don't think you need to hope," he says, gesturing to the contents. "I think the word is 'inevitable.'"
Ina'thia glances back to the desk, "...Fair enough. Well, with you and I leading things again, we'll have a fighting chance, won't we? Whether it be vanquishing demons or boredom."
Ruthar chuckles, looking around the office. "The first thing to vanquish is this forlorn furniture. Let's get this done quick - there is a bottle of Thalassian red waiting for us at the inn below."
Ina'thia finally stands up straight, smoothing the wrinkles from her tabard out of habit. "By the Sunwell, I've -missed- you." She gestures for Ruthar to exit first, so that she can close and lock the door behind her. Maybe next time it won't be years before the office sees its next visitors.
(( Years ago during the aftermath of the rebirth of the Sunwell, Raethar Runeweaver made the decision to depart the Magistry and leave his title of Magister behind. ))
Calm.
The golden glow of Quel’Danas spread evenly across the paved walkways, the whisper of a breeze dancing through the shining leaves of the coastal trees. It was hard to imagine that this very island was the front line of a conflict so great and dangerous that it nearly ushered in the end of their civilization entire. The cracked and blackened stone structures remained as keen reminders, of course; the scorched earth and the smell of brimstone still in the air juxtaposing the gentleness of the shoreline. However, the silence was staggering - the definitive proof that it was over, that a new era had truly begun.
Raethar sighed as he looked out across the sea, leaning upon the stone railing outside of the courtyard to the Magisters’ Terrace. He glanced down to find his own face looking back at him in the reflective stone, his eyes beginning to take on a golden glow as the felfire green began to lift.
Just as this day marks an ending, so too does it herald a new beginning.
Ever since the defeat of Kil’jaeden and the subsequent reignition of the sacred Sunwell, the words of Prophet Velen swirled through Raethar’s mind. It was not a matter of agreeing with words - it was a matter of a reborn soul, of a new path that needed following, of untold and immeasurable possibility. As he stood there upon the Terrace, he pushed up the sleeves of his robe to look upon his scarred and mangled forearms, the last gift of his wife Nilwissa after she lost her mind to magical addiction. He could still see her body on the ground, lifeless, fallen by Farstrider arrows that saved Raethar’s life. He closed his eyes in silent prayer to her, hanging his head in momentary reflection as the breeze tossed his silvery hair.
“The conclave is just about to begin, Magister.”
Raethar’s eyes shot open as the apprentice stepped onto the grass. He pulled himself upward, returning his sleeves to their proper place as he brushed off the front of his robes. “Excellent,” he replied, nodding his appreciation. “Thank you, Aelvar. I suppose the call of destiny awaits.”
Aelvar smiled weakly, offering Raethar a tight scroll that contained his speech and relevant notes. “You are certain that this is the right path, Magister?”
Raethar smiled warmly, closing the gap between himself and his apprentice. He placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder, the gentle Light energy within his palm offering calm to the younger Magister. “My dear Aelvar,” he began, looking down to the bundled scroll in his apprentice’s hands. He paused to conjure the right words before he tapped the top of the closed parchment.
“Clarity,” he said simply, pulling back to regard Alevar fully. “Clarity, Aelvar. For the first time in years, a path forward has been introduced. I can see my footfalls leading onward, urged forward by golden radiance birthed from the Sunwell herself.” He glanced over in the direction of the fount, feeling its energies surround him as he turned from Aelvar to take a step in that direction, his arms opening wide.
“My time as a Magister has come,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I feel not betrayal nor disappointment - I will hold close the memories of that time and continue to devote myself to the cause. But…” His voice trails off for a moment as he turns to face Aelvar once again, his expression gentle and reassuring. “Well, I will save it for the big show, hmm?”
Aelvar smiles and nods, holding the scroll forward once again. “Very well, Magister. It has certainly been an honour, in any case.”
“A new beginning,” Raethar spoke in near silence, Velen’s words still swirling in his mind. He reached his hand toward the scroll, pushing it back toward Aelvar. “Those are for you,” he said with a smile, knowing that he had tucked instructions and guidance for his soon to be former apprentice within the bundled speech. “I know my words, fret not.”
Aelvar retracted the documents with a soft chuckle. “But of course, Magister.” He gestured toward the courtyard. “Though we should not keep them waiting.”
Raethar nodded as he motioned for Aelvar to lead through the archway, following behind him as they both joined the collected Magistry. It was truly a sight to behold as the most powerful of Silvermoon’s spellweavers mingled and spoke, a joy in the air that had not been felt within these walls in some time, certainly not since before the great Fall of Quel’Thalas. For these few hours today, this place was truly once again the Magisters’ Terrace for they, the Collected, this gathering of the full Magistry itself, joined together to celebrate, to mourn, to plan, to discuss, and to reflect.
Raethar smiled and nodded in greeting to so many, shaking hands and sharing laughs as he and Aelvar settled in for the lengthy proceedings.
-----
“Thank you, Magister Sun’fallos, for your contributions to our continued studies. Your sabbatical is thus accepted and approved - we greatly anticipate your reports and learnings upon your return to Quel’Thalas.”
With a crack of a gavel and a round of thankful applause, the current matter is closed, the most recent of these lengthy proceedings. High Magister Varnil Belo’var stood at the podium, placing the gavel down to sign a document produced approving the current action of permitting Magister Sun’fallos time away from his station. Sun’fallos bowed to the collective in thanks before offering his signature to the parchment. The document was then passed to the front row of observers for further signatures, those of the highest station within the Magistry including Grand Magister Rommath himself. Sun’fallos retreated from the front, receiving praise and handshakes as he returned to his seat even as silent judgement was cast upon him from elsewhere. Raethar stood as Sun’fallos approached, placing a hand upon his shoulder and offering his own words of congratulations.
Belo’var returned to the podium, lifting a hand to quiet the murmuring that had swelled during the minutes of silence as the document was finalized. “Thank you, thank you - this conclave will continue.” He glanced over to his agenda, striking the matter of Sun’fallos through with a stroke of an inked quill before calling upon the next subject.
“We, the Collected, do hereby recognize the esteemed Magister Raethar Runeweaver.”
A sea of eyes turned toward Raethar as he stood, smoothing out his robes as he began the journey to the front. He smiled to Aelvar knowingly as expressions of curiosity, joy, and judgement spread across the faces of the collected Magistry, this point of proverbial no return now cemented with Belo’var’s announcement. Raethar smiled warmly as he approached the front, nodding in kind to those who would greet him along the way, old friends and associates from his many years with the Magistry, and smiling even more warmly to those who he knew looked upon him with secret disdain.
He offered respectful handshakes to the front row of Magistry leaders to thank them for their time and service before clasping the hand of High Magister Belo’var as the leader of the day’s proceedings bequeathed his position behind the podium to Raethar.
“Thank you, High Magister Belo’var, for the opportunity to address the Collected this afternoon. Your expert leadership of these proceedings is particularly noted, and I know I speak for far beyond myself when I offer my sincerest thanks for your oversight.” A gentle wave of applause is given to Belo’var as he nods and takes a seat to the left of the podium, settling in for Raethar’s remarks.
“Esteemed members of the Silvermoon Magistry,” Raethar began, his hands resting upon the edges of the podium. “A new era,” he said, looking out over the faces of his fellow spellweavers. “That is what we are here to recognize. We gather here during a time of rebirth for all of us, for all of Quel’Thalas - a time of new horizons, new possibilities, and new direction. While the future itself remains unclear, what is clear is that the opportunity for us to proceed toward that future as a unified and strong collective has been won. We are cleansed, we are pure, and we are true. True to what it means to be sin’dorei. True to the strong tenets of Quel’Thalas. True to ourselves as we all embody our mantra of perseverance time and again!”
His voice grew in power throughout those lines, ushering in cheers of agreement from some of the prideful attendees. Raethar let go of the podium, clasping his hands behind his back as he moved to the side to stand in full view of the Collected.
“But this day, these months of success, this aftermath of victory - these did not come without clear challenges. Without pain. Without deep loss.” The collective quieted as Raethar continued, a somber mood returning to the gathering as it did before during the speeches of reflective memorial. “It is over those dark memories that our current dawn ascends. But, just as the darkness of twilight gives way to the light of the sun, the grass and land beneath is touched by both.”
Raethar stepped from side to side as he continued, his hands still clasped behind his back as his eyes darted from face to face, establishing personal connections to his audience who offered him respectful silence. “For well over two centuries, I have had the distinct pleasure of serving this body. I recall fondly studying voraciously at the Falthrien Academy, shoulder-to-shoulder with some of you in this very audience, before continuing advanced work in Silvermoon. Deep, targeted study in the subject of runestones pushed my trajectory to the spires of Dalaran itself as I swelled with pride as the opportunity to represent our great Kingdom grew ever larger.”
He smiled as he spread his arms to the audience. “These are all feelings that I know I share with you all. The pride, the academia, the knowledge, the greatness - these are all experiences that we, the brightest minds of Quel’Thalas, this grand Collected, welcome and appreciate regularly as we hone our collective abilities sharper than the tip of the finest ranseur.”
He tapped a finger into his opposite open palm. “But what happens when that proverbial ranseur cracks into armour made from stronger materials?” He splinters his fingers apart in mock explosion. “The spear cracks, bends, relents - bested by a stronger will.” He allows his hands to return to his side.
“This was my experience.”
The silence from the audience was deafening for there was no cause for reaction. Raethar allowed the moment to linger before shifting back toward the podium to place his hands on its sides once more. “Six years ago,” he continued, “I truly had everything I had ever dreamed of. A strong House,” he said as he pointedly looked to his cousin, Magister Ran’thas Runeweaver, “a proud position alongside you all, keen magical abilities at my fingertips, and, of course, Nilwissa, my beautiful wife.” He smiled as he looked out to the collected faces. “Needless to say, the proverbial ranseur was sharp, indeed.
“Sadly, that spear met its immovable object, as you all can know and imagine. With the coming of the Scourge, the Fall of our great Kingdom, and the destruction of the Sunwell itself, all of the comforts I held were stripped away. Our House was crushed, my abilities grew distant, and, despite our best efforts, Nilwissa fell to the callings of the Wretched.
“Even still,” he added, tapping the podium with his forefinger, “somehow, the worn spear was lifted again and again. Though broken, the sharpened point merely a dullened extension, the ranseur maintained potential against all odds.”
He gestured to the green felfire displays that still glowed around the courtyard. “Despite the gifts that our fallen Prince had found, our magical salvation, my own prowess continued to slip away. My hunger was sated somewhat, yes, but the shattered tip would need to be fully remade. As I eventually made my way to Quel’Danas after many long years, I did what I could to assist, but…” he sighed, shaking his head. “It was nothing compared to what I once was. My talents were beginning to feel akin to distant memories.”
He shifted away from the podium once again, looking over the faces before him. “Fortunately, all of that changed.” Raethar held himself higher, his voice ringing more proudly as he commanded the attention of those gathered. “With the rebirth of our great Sunwell, the ranseur was remade, its dullened metal replaced with shining golden might. But not just mine, no. The weapons of so many of our kin were similarly remade as Lady Liadrin ushered in a new future at the very heart of the Plateau.”
With a push of holy magic, Raethar conjured around him a golden aura, a shimmering barrier that surrounded his form as his eyes glowed with golden radiance. “The Light,” Raethar offered, his hands outstretched to his sides as the audience continued to watch, “...is my salvation.”
He allowed the energy to retreat, returning to the podium as curious eyes watched him. He truly was unsure how the Collected would react, but he knew that this was now his path. He smiled toward Aelvar in the audience as he repeated and expanded upon the words he spoke to his apprentice earlier.
“Clarity,” he said with purpose. “For the first time in years, a path forward has been introduced, a path that I see myself taking. No longer does the dullened ranseur lay to the side; it is now sharpened with renewed purpose. I can see my steps leading onward, urged forward by the Sunwell’s newfound golden radiance - a true opportunity to return what was lost and rededicate myself to the whole of Quel’Thalas.”
He opened his arms to the audience from behind the podium. “Today,” he continued, his voice still ringing with pride as he fought down any uncertainty, “after two and half centuries of service as a Magister, I announce my departure from these ranks in order to dedicate myself to a new calling. In honour of my late wife and to all those of Quel’Thalas who may need the Light for protection, I prepare to depart this podium as a sin’dorei reborn. In time, I expect to return to my academic studies and discover how these Light-born energies may be utilized to reinvigorate my lost abilities, but such learning will require an alternative path.”
He takes a moment to pause, moving once more to the side of the podium, bowing his head in thanks to all collected here. He looks over the Collected with a warm smile, catching the eyes of many in attendance before he repeats the words of Prophet Velen at the time of the Sunwell’s rebirth.
“Just as this day marks an ending, so too does it herald a new beginning.”
Raethar stood there in silence for a moment, curious how the body would react. Breaking the silent pause following the conclusion of his remarks, Raethar heard the scrape of a chair followed by the beginnings of a soft clap. Aelvar, his beloved apprentice, stood up from his seat and began to applaud the former Magister. One by one, other members of the Collected, the members of the Magistry that comprised today’s gathering, stood from their seats, offering their own respectful applause. As Raethar continued to stand next to the podium, he swelled with pride as he looked from face to face, nodding at those who celebrated both his newfound path and his years of dedicated service to the Magistry.
He bowed to the front row before him as the most remarkable members of the Magistry applauded as Raethar looked to his right to find High Magister Belo’var looking upon him with pride. The High Magister ended his applause to discuss matters briefly with a scribe, a Magistrix Silvale, who hurriedly began to write upon a parchment before moving to review its contents with the front row. Belo’var approached Raethar as the applause began to subside, placing a hand upon his shoulder as he nodded and took the podium once more.
“Thank you for your words, Master Runeweaver,” the High Magister offered both to Raethar and to the greater Collected. He looked down to catch eyes with the Grand Magister who nodded, sending Magistrix Silvale back toward the podium to confirm the written contents. Belo’var received the parchment as the Magistrix retreated toward her seat, continuing to address the audience.
“Your impassioned remarks are duly noted and appreciated. While it is always a moment of reflection and, on occasion, disappointment when one of our own decides to depart, I believe I speak for many of us when I offer that I understand your position and appreciate your many years of contributions.” The High Magister picked up the gavel once more to address the full Collected.
“In recognition of your many years of service to the Magistry, we offer the honorary title of Raethar Runeweaver, Magister Emeritus. This body accepts your formal resignation and looks forward to a meaningful continued partnership in service to Quel’Thalas.”
A fresh round of applause was ushered forth after the High Magister clapped the gavel in finality. The appropriate signatures were offered as Raethar began to make his way back to his seat, finalizing his honorary title of Magister Emeritus. Raethar returned nods, handshakes, and appreciative smiles as he made his way back to his seat, receiving a strong hug from Apprentice Aelvar. He chuckled at the lad as he lowered himself to his seat, looking to the podium as High Magister Belo’var continued the proceedings.
While the next speaker was introduced, Raethar’s mind returned him to the shores of the Sunwell itself alongside Lady Liadrin and Prophet Velen.
Just as this day marks an ending, so too does it herald a new beginning.
(( To view this as a Google Doc instead, please click here ))
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Ruthar slips through the pavilion, his boots clanking softly against the stonework. He stops as the doorway opens to the sea, breathing deeply as his mind slips into long-held memories. He watches as Analyse salutes beneath a phoenix banner, Rositsa focusing upon a target. The banner snaps in the breeze as a phalanx of Silvermoon's mightiest gather to trade information and plan their next move. With a blink of his tired eyes, the images disappear, revealing the calm scene before him - no guards, no protectors, just quiet. He looks over to the table nearby to find a seated Ina'thia.
"Of the three centuries I've stalked these forests, few places feel like home as much as this pavilion."
Ina'thia 's ears flick as she hears the clanking of Ruthar's boots as he exits the pavilion, out to the little clearing with tables. There's a picnic spread, complete with a red and gold embroidered cloth, and a bottle of wine.
"And that's why I always seem to find myself here, after all this time and everything that's happened."
Ruthar saunters over to the table, his eyebrows raising as he looks at the spread. "You certainly went all out. I didn't expect this when I received your letter..." He shifts over to take a seat on the bench across, noting her relatively unarmored form.
Ina'thia gives Ruthar a bit of a smirk as she pulls the cork from the wine bottle. "Well, we meant to do this how long ago, now? A lot has happened since then and now. My guilt, made manifest in a picnic."
Ruthar watches her uncork the wine bottle, enjoying the sight of someone else kick off the drinking for a change. He rubs the back of his neck. "Oh, a while ago, for sure. But the tables in Fairbreeze aren't going anywhere and I'm a patient elf." He picks up a crystal glass and slides it in Ina'thia's direction.
Ina'thia is quick to pour into Ruthar's glass, then into her own. "I ran into Li-Mei last night. What's her status, these days? Still a traitor... probationary... questionable...?"
Ruthar chuckles dryly, taking up the glass. He lofts it, somewhat dismissively. "Before we slide directly into that sort of business, to fond memories in a fond locale. I do appreciate the invitation, whatever the circumstances may be." He holds the glass aloft for a soft clink.
Ina'thia raises her own glass to toast with Ruthar, "You're right, you're right. My mind and entire life have been going entirely too fast. I planned to slow down, but here I am. Talking business."
Ruthar clinks it, sipping the Thalassian red softly, cherishing the taste before popping a small fruit into his mouth. "Commander Dawnblade," he quips. "I don't believe you have ever had a reputation for slowing down."
Ina'thia takes a sip of her own wine, following it with a small wedge of cheese. "And that's where I'd say 'Lt. Commander Ronaestrider, I'll slow down when I'm dead!', right?" She laughs into her wine glass.
Ruthar smirks at that. "Truly, the memories come swirling back on this beach. A lifetime ago, it feels..." He allows the moment to slip, taking another gentle sip before returning to the present. "Interesting that you would mention Li-Mei first and foremost - I only just today received an unprompted missive from her."
Ina'thia 's gaze trails past Ruthar to the beach itself as she relives her own memories. "She's looking for... something. Work? Assignment? Belonging? I'm not sure what to do about her."
Ruthar nods, his expression somewhat quizzical. "Precisely," he admits. "That was nearly verbatim what was in her note."
Ina'thia lazily plucks a grape off of the picnic spread and pops it into her mouth. She rests her elbow on the table, chin in hand, thoughtfully chewing. "Part of this is an apology for not letting you know of my current assignment sooner. I'm sure you've heard about it, from the Magistry. Runestones. It's... not a strictly military affair. Li-Mei needs structure and I'm not sure if I can provide that."
Ruthar nods slowly, his eyes shifting down toward the spread a moment. "I heard whispers, certainly. Of course, I don't have the strongest of ties to the Magistry these days, so I know precious little. I would assume, as always, it is a need-to-know situation."
Ina'thia watches Ruthar, "I wanted to tell you, but things moved quickly. I would welcome your involvement, however much you can provide. I know the Farstriders keep you busy."
Syrielle smiles brightly as she silently approaches the familiar faces.
Ruthar nods. "Busy is certainly one way to..." His eyes shift over to his left and widen as he catches sight of Syrielle. "Goodness, I wasn't aware this would be such an occasion," he leans back, raising his glass toward Syrielle.
Syrielle brings her hand around over Ina's eyes, "Guess who!" She giggles playfully.
Ina'thia 's ears flick as she feels a presence behind her. Before she can turn around, hands cover the top half of her face! Her first reaction is to snarl, but her expression turns into a bright smile when she realizes who it is. "Syrie! I -just- sent that letter before I came out here. Are you that anxious to get out of the big fancy house?"
Ruthar lifts himself up partially to pour a glass of red, sliding it across the table toward the empty seat next to Ina'thia.
Syrielle wraps her arms around Ina in a hug, "Just got out of a boring meeting actually. It was perfect timing! Oooh! We drinking?”
Ruthar smirks, pushing the glass even further. "Always."
Ina'thia leans in to Syrie's hug, then pats the seat next to her. "Eversong Red, the best and only! Come, come. This is hardly boring."
Ruthar cants his head to the side at Ina'thia curiously. "You are quite...different than the last we spoke. Dare I say, happy? Content? This must be some project you've got."
Ina'thia raises a brow to Ruthar as she sips at her wine, holding the glass to her lips longer than normal as she measures her response. "Having a new project helps. Settling some personal issues also helps."
Syrielle takes a seat next to Ina. Her gloved hand reaches for the drink, "That the new project Bey's got his eye on?"
Ruthar narrows his eyes curiously as he takes another sip, listening for the moment though curiosity radiates from his features.
“Must be quite a project!” Syrielle exclaims. “I haven't seen him in this good of a mood ever since…”
Ina'thia sets her glass down, "He's quite involved." She mutters under her breath, forgetting for a moment that she's in the company of elves. "We're quite involved. ANYWAY. This project is to restore some of the runestones that made Ban'dinoriel!"
Syrielle gasps at Ina'thia. “Ohmygoshreally?!” Her ears perk all the way up and her eyes glow with excitement, "You're together again?! AHHHHHHH!" She hugs Ina, again.
“Ban'dinoriel is long gone,” Ruthar states matter-of-factly. “The only restoration of note here is between you and the Magister, it seems.”
Ina'thia lifts an arm so that Syrie can go in for all of the hugs, but also so she can pat the top of Syrie's head. "Shan'dor still functions, and there are other, smaller runestones. If we can piece those back together, imagine what could be done for the others. Plus, I've gained a reputation as actually accomplishing the impossible. It's far from surviving suicide missions through the Dark Portal... but it gives me purpose."
Ina'thia is, pointedly, not discussing Bey'ron.
Syrielle is focused solely on the Bey’ron and Ina thing, but is content to just keep hugging Ina happily, allowing she and Ruthar to continue their conversation.
Ruthar considers that, taking another sip before sampling a piece of Sunsail Gouda. "Knight-Lord Dawnblade has a new venture surrounded by magic-oriented folks? That seems like an...interesting choice."
Ruthar smirks as he takes another sip. "No offense, of course. Clearly, there is a little magic in you now."
Syrielle grins wickedly at Ina'thia. “Yeah there is!”
Ina'thia playfully messes up Syrie's tiara, "Plenty of other familiar faces in the group. Hawkcrest, Dawnreaer, Ravenscar, Bloodwrath, Tiderunner..."
Syrielle chuckles, releasing Ina so that she can fix up her tiara.
Ruthar snaps up a little at that. "Ranger Captain Hawkcrest? Goodness, it sounds like you plan to beat the stones back into service."
Ina'thia snickers at Ruthar, "Well, has anyone tried that yet? It just might work."
Ruthar shakes his head with a smirk, reaching to pour another glass. "Fair enough, I suppose, though I was unaware the Knights had such a vested interest in magical defenses. A sign of collectivism that we should all aspire to, certainly."
“You getting the Guard back together?” Syrielle asks.
Ina'thia shakes her head, "No. The Guard is long gone... this is something new. Magistrix Silverspell is calling us the Runesworn." She shrugs a little bit. "The Blood Knights and the Magistry have always had a close relationship..."
Syrielle grins at Ina, "Yeah, they have."
“Sometimes fraught,” Ina’thia continues, “but one nonetheless. It hearkens back to old times for our Order, but far more pleasant circumstances."
Syrielle waggles her eyebrows at Ina.
Ina'thia holds the driest possible cracker up to Syrie's mouth, hoping she'll be too occupied with chewing and swallowing a desert than talking about Bey'ron.
Ruthar snorts into the wine glass at Syri before resting it down to sample some Falthrien Fontina. "Doesn't seem to me that there is much need for us old, non-magical defenders."
"There's magic around us everywhere in Quel'Thalas,” Ina’thia offers. “The leylines, the Light, even the land itself. Even if I don't understand it, I can protect those that do."
Syrielle smirks as she chews the cracker, taking a sip of wine to help with it.
Ruthar nods, taking a long sip. "So, Li-Mei is interested in this as well? I take it that such a desire is the catalyst for her note."
Ina'thia drums her fingers on the edge of the table. She seems a little frustrated, and not quite sure how to articulate it. "I don't know if she's interested in this particularly, or just... -anything-. I don't know if I can trust her to keep the magical secrets we are already discovering."
Ruthar considers that. "It is that very betrayal of magical secrets that exposed Ban'dinoriel in the first place, but I wouldn't say Li-Mei is the next Drathir..."
Syrielle finally swallows down that cracker, "She would never do it out of malice or on purpose, for sure."
Ina'thia nods slowly, "...I know, but the fact that I wonder about it gives me pause. And as I said; this isn't a military operation. It's not the Guard. There's no rank or role for her to be neatly boxed into."
“How has she been doing?” Syrielle inquires. “I haven't seen her since the trial.”
Ruthar munches on a grape before replying. "Fairly well, from what I understand. In fact, I worked alongside her and Lord Everblaze in apprehending a traitor to the Kingdom along the southern border recently. Certainly, the Magister would vouch for her given those circumstances in addition to all his other efforts in her favour."
“Oh! You helped bring Sunwhisper in?” Syrielle asks. “That’s great!”
Ina'thia shifts on her half of the bench, quirking a brow. "Traitor? ...Sunwhisper? Why does that sound so familiar..."
Ruthar nods. "It was mostly a trivial affair, to be honest. One of the betrayers who orchestrated Suncrown near the end of the Guard's tenure."
Syrielle looks up. “Really? No trouble bringing her in?”
Ina'thia nearly chokes on a grape, "That's -not- a mostly trivial affair. I thought those fuckers were D E A D. They should be, after what they did!"
“Not that I doubt you, Rosi and Bey's abilities, but isn't she like... super strong?” Syrielle offers as a follow-up.
Ruthar nods. "Turns out, she is, in fact, dead. She's still in Everblaze's custody, I believe. He had intended to find answers to quite a few questions."
Syrielle nods to Ruthar's words, "Events are recent and it's not very talked about."
Ina'thia exhales sharply into her wine glass and takes a big gulp -- the rest of the contents, in fact. She's stewing about a great many things. "I hate everything about this. But it's out of my hands."
“The important thing is that she's in custody,” offers Syrielle.
Ruthar looks to Ina'thia curiously. "They are in Thalassian custody, I could think of no better place." He nods to Syri. "I am certain there are many answers to come. Regardless, Li-Mei was part of the collecting party, no questions asked. A good omen about her trustworthiness, perhaps."
Ina'thia lets out a sigh as she consciously wills the tension from her body. "You're right. Maybe I'm being too hard on her. I don't have a whole lot of room to talk."
“Only you can decide who is best suited for your venture, of course,” Ruthar states plainly. “I only offer that I do believe she can be trusted, despite her momentary slip. She is certainly under the Magister's ever-watchful eye, at the very least.”
Syrielle takes another drink of wine, "She ever let anything slip when she was in the Guard?"
Ina'thia makes a funny face at the mention of the Magister's ever-watchful eye. She decides to take another wedge of cheese. "Not that I'm aware of. I'll... keep it under advisement."
Ruthar looks over to Syrielle. "And you, Lady Starfrost? Are you also involved in this rune-venture?"
Syrielle shakes her head, picking out a piece of cheese, "Unfortunately not. Since I usually end up with Bey's work when he gets busy with other business. I can probably pitch in and help from time to time, but I don't think it's something I could fully commit to. It does sound interesting, though.”
Ina'thia offers a smile at Syrie, "I'd welcome any help you'd be able to give us. Same for you, Ruthar. I know the project seems far fetched -- impossible, even -- but the Phoenix Guard was successful against far greater odds and dangers."
Syrielle smiles at Ina, "Definitely call if you need anything. I can usually pop in pretty quickly, as you saw." Syrielle mumbles as she goes to take a sip of wine, "I thought it was a booty call."
Ina'thia nearly chokes on her own spit.
Ruthar polishes off his second glass, clicking it down upon the table. "I swore an oath to the Guard, an oath that cost me dearly on more than one occasion. If you need my help, you need only..." his voice trails off for a moment as he glances between the pair. "I...I, ah. Well, I can certainly leave you to it..."
“Nah, I like being on Bey's good side,” Syrielle replies.
Ina'thia rests her hands on the table as she finishes sputtering. "...and I don't need to have -another- fight with Gattius."
“Has he apologized to you yet? I told him he needs to apologize.” Syrielle pours herself another glass.
Ruthar shakes his head as other memories slip through his mind. "I commend your collective strength. I'm not sure I have many skills in this personal arena. The last ones...well, best to let those remain unreminded."
Ina'thia holds out her wine glass as Syrie pours herself more. "I don't think there will ever be apologies. But... it is what it is."
Syrielle refills Ina's glass, her ears lowering some.
Ina'thia falls into silence as she nurses her wine. "Well, happier topics. The three of us are here, now, which hasn't happened in years! New projects... new things... it'll all be okay."
Ruthar dusts off his tabard, standing from the table. "Sadly, I should retire back to the City before the night falls fully, as much as I'd love to watch the darkness kiss the shoreline once more." He sighs, looking out over the water as he shifts around. "It is truly good to see you both. New things, new projects - all indeed worth celebrating. A happy Ina'thia, too - a rare sight, indeed," he offers, turning around as he looks upon the pair with perhaps a hint of quashed underlying sadness. "But, a sight truly worth celebrating." He smiles at the pair. "As always, Sunwell guide. Send my best to both Sir Starfrost and Magister Everblaze."
Syrielle quickly gets up and walks over to Ruthar, pulling him into a hug, "It's always so good to see you, Ruthar."
Ruthar chuckles as he accepts the hug, holding tightly. "You as well, Syrie, should I still be permitted to call you that. A lovely surprise this evening, to be sure."
Ina'thia stands up as well. She doesn't rush in for a hug like Syrie does, but instead, stands awkwardly with her rigid postures and hands at her sides. "It was good to see you. And I hope to see you more. Remember... defying the impossible is what we used to do every day, and we did it well. Come help us build a runestone or four."
Syrielle smiles. “You can always call me Syrie. In fact, I prefer it.” She reaches over and pulls Ina into the hug.
Ruthar smiles at that, accepting the hug that Syrie continues, holding his dear friends close for a prolonged moment. After pulling back, his fingers instinctively brush upon his marred eye scars.
"Some were better at defying said impossibilities than others, to be sure. Though, perhaps this old soul still has something to offer to this Runesworn." He flashes a small grin. "Just as with Li-Mei, I suppose I will take it under advisement."
Syrielle smiles, finally releasing the two, "We need to meet like this more often."
Ruthar smiles and nods. "Indeed! Ina'thia still owes me a dinner in Fairbreeze - certainly another chair wouldn't hurt."
Ina'thia allows a much wider smile to cross her lips, and she finds herself in the middle of this group hug somehow. For once, she doesn't freeze up or complain. Instead, she pulls her two friends in closer. "Dinner in Fairbreeze it is. With more wine!"
“Yay!” Syrielle cheers.
Ruthar smiles at that, offering one final squeeze before slipping away. "I have some special selections from my vintner to share, I very much look forward to that. But, Sunwell guide and all that for real this time." He begins to walk toward the pavilion before turning to offer one final smile to the pair before trekking back to the City.
“Sunwell Guide, Ruthar,” Syrelle replies with a smile.
Ina'thia gives Ruthar a little wave, "Sunwell guide, my friend. Rest well."
Ruthar chuckles at that, always having wondered what it felt like to be sunwell guide-d. He takes another glimpse from his now helmet-adorned head before truly departing, his mind moving far faster than his feet.
He sighed as he slipped through the woodlands southward, returning to the walls of Silvermoon. He had truly received much more than he bargained for, for good or ill. Upon receiving a letter of invitation from In'athia for this evening, he had expected some basic updates about goings-on in regards to the Knights or movements in Quel'Thalas - standard points of their regular discussions. The focus on personal matters was not something he had anticipated.
There was never an opportunity, don't dwell on it, his mind whispered the reminder to himself as he walked along. The Knights and Magistry have always had a special sort of relationship - you chose your path long ago when you first lifted a bow.
He instinctively reached for Ana'dal upon his back, running his fingers along the ornate golden wood. No sense focusing on what could have been, he reminded himself.
I hope you are all doing well! I am pleased to introduce another member of House Runeweaver, the former sin'dorei Magister Raethar Runeweaver.
To learn all about him, please feel free to follow the link below to his Wyrmrest Wiki page. It contains his full history and potential hooks for our characters to know one another.
"We will not let them through - not this time." - Sunsworn Cleric Raethar Runeweaver Raethar Ral’tios Runeweaver is a devoted priest and pro
Since Raethar and Ran'thas are cousins, I have renamed this blog from Ran'thas to House Runeweaver so that it can serve as a collection of materials for both characters.
Refreshed one of my other blogs for my magic-wielding characters, Magister Ran'thas and Lightwielder Raethar. Looking forward to getting some RP down for Raethar with a handful of scenes and things in the works.
A community focused on Farstrider roleplaying in World of Warcraft. | 19 members
OOC INFO POST: Farstrider Discord Community
Hi, everyone!
Hope you are having a nice weekend. :) Since we've seen a swell in Silvermoon RP return recently, we've kicked up a new Discord server for all things Farstrider. Feel free to click the link to join in on the fun. We had some great impromptu RP this week with an awesome collection of rangers, so we hope you can join us!
There is also a Blood Knight Discord community for those interested in that aspect of WrA - you can find that right on over here.
Ruthar watches over the trainees in the square, taking mental notes as he regards forms and abilities. His expression is masked, the recruits unable to tell how he feels about their performance.
Ina'thia steps out from the Hall of Blood, file of paperwork under her arm, and spots a familiar bow over by the training yard. She hurries over, plate amor clanking with each stride in her jog, and stops next to Ruthar. "Well, how are they doing?" She lifts her chin, gaze trailing over to the new recruits.
Ruthar 's voice is low. "Very well, but don't let them hear that," he offers with a chuckle. He glances to the paperwork. "How's the reinstatement coming along?"
Ina'thia smirks, and replies in a low voice of her own. "If you want, I can yell at them and tell them they're awful." She snickers, and pulls a file out from her folder to begin folding into a paper airplane. "Fully reinstated! And with a mountain of work to catch up on..."
Ruthar catches eyes with the trainer overseeing the ground and gives him a hand signal indicating his departure. The ranger nods, barking commands to the trainees as Ruthar turns his attention fully to Ina'thia. "That was admitted quicker than I would have thought. Congratulations, all the same, Knight-Lord." His face turns upward into a smirk. "Perhaps the next step will be calling you Commander once again, hmm?"
Ina'thia makes one crisp fold of the parchment after another, until it is vaguely airplane-shaped. "I didn't go AWOL or leave on any particularly poor terms... so it was actually quite easy. I don't think we'll be Commanders again anytime soon, though."
Ruthar chuckles at that. "I somehow doubt that. The face of duty always seems to spring itself upon us." He sighs, looking over the recruits again. "I do miss it, though. As much my very being is a Farstrider, it was nice to oversee a unit of so many different facets."
Ina'thia smirks at Ruthar as she inspects her handiwork, "If I could send a few Blood Knights your way, I would. I'd like to see them work through Farstrider training in full plate. You know, for fun."
Ruthar laughs. "You're a Knight-Lord. I'm sure you'll have Initiates to spare. I'd be happy to oversee a gauntlet for your entertainment."
Ina'thia actually laughs at that, then launches her paper airplane! Between her poor aim and even worse throw, it doesn't go very far. "If my hunches are correct, I'll have more apprentices than I can shake a stick at here soon."
"As well as Masters and Champions awaiting their advancement."
“Right back into the fray, as it were,” Ruthar replies. “You never did enjoy sitting around.”
"I always considered myself good at many, many things... retirement is not one of them. Neither is whatever this is..."
Ina'thia glances down at the paper airplane with a disappointed look.
Ruthar chuckles at that, moving forward to scoop up the plane and offer it back to Ina'thia. "Arts and crafts doesn't strike me as your strong suit," he quips. "On the plus side, at least you've come back to active duty during a time where we can actually focus on our own. For once.”
Ina'thia takes the paper airplane back, and begins inspecting it for flaws. "Oh, no. Not at all. Even my macaroni art as a child was dreadful," she laughs, "...I miss it, though. The Guard. Seeing what Li-Mei got up to and is being held accountable for makes me feel a pang of guilt. Like I should have fought harder to keep it active, or made better efforts -- or any effort -- to keep tabs on everyone after it was over."
Ruthar visibly darkens at the mention of Li-Mei. He pauses for a long moment, looking up above the square. "That exact thing has been eating away at me for a while now, to be honest." He shakes his head, his eyes looking emptily to the ground before them. "What kind of leader isn't there for his own? That whole thing with Li-Mei - it never would have happened if I didn't turn a blind eye."
Ina'thia presses her lips together and finally turns to look at Ruthar with a serious look of her own, "...With respect, my friend, I think she would have still gone down that path. Only you would have been there to watch it all unfold in front of you."
Ruthar lets out a slow breath. "Possibly. Still, I can't help but think that she just needed some guidance. We were all so lost during the twists and turns of the Fourth War. It took a lot of willpower to push through all that."
Ina'thia lets her gaze fall back on the junior rangers and their targets once again. "I feel empathy for her, but also, an odd sort of contempt. She and I ended up on similar walkabouts, but I at least had the good sense to retire instead of abandoning my post."
"And now... begging the Farstriders for forgiveness? With Magister Everblaze as her counsel? I feel awful that the trials of her health have been put on full display and official records."
Ruthar nods slowly. "I can't help but think that there is more to this. That she just happened to find herself in the midst of Everblaze at the exact time of her need just feels..." His voice trails off in thought.
“He has a knack for showing up precisely when he is needed,” Ina’thia replies. “...and helps in a way that helps himself even more.”
Ruthar considers that. “It's slightly uncanny. But, I have to commend his assistance in the matter. He did immediately come to me with the news of her return. He could have just sat on it and played games with the intel.”
“Are you certain he brought it to you immediately, or is that just what he said?” Ina’thia asks.
“The timeline that Starfrost provided confirmed the relative expedience, so I will give the credit where it is due in this case.”
Ina'thia wrinkles her nose at that, "Sorry... I'm letting my personal feelings get the better of me in regard to him. I went to go and apologize to him, you know? He laughed me out of his stupid tower."
Ruthar looks back to her, his face one of gentle concern. "No apologies necessary - your insight is invaluable, you know that." He shakes his head. "Laughed you out, huh? Wouldn't even offer you a genuine audience?"
Ina'thia scowls at one particular leaf on the ground, "He feigns courtesy in a way where it's infuriating, because you know it's not genuine. I didn't want to hear it, so I left."
Ruthar shakes his head. "Well, I suppose that you can consider that particular chapter closed, if nothing else."
Ina'thia nudges that one leaf with a gentle touch of her boot, "It was a sad way to end things. He, and his denial, are hanging by a thread. I would have preferred if he just started throwing fire at me. I'm better at that instead of dealing with -words-."
Ruthar chuckles. "Even he knows more sense than that. I doubt very much that the Magister would best you in combat. There's a reason we were the boots on the ground."
Ina'thia grins at Ruthar, "It's true. The Magister and his many, many skirts could ~never.~"
Ruthar laughs at that. "Still, it's a show of strength for you to even seek him out. He knows this, whether he wants to admit it or not."
Ina'thia lets out an exaggerated sigh, "I miss when a show of strength was kicking in someone's door, or besting them in combat. Apologizing? Making amends? It's the worst. I hate it."
Ruthar laughs at that. "I hear you there. Fortunately, I have no idea where my ex-lovers have ended up. No door-kicking or empty words required."
Ina'thia taps her chin thoughtfully, "That one redhead that was with us for awhile... oh! Deylivia~" she says the woman's name in a spooky voice, even wiggling her fingers at Ruthar, "...Gods, you're lucky. I don't know where she ended up, either."
Ruthar rolls his eyes at the spooky voice in a hilariously sibling-like way. "I do hope she's alright," he admits. "Nara swooped in and stole her thunder. Word is she was killed. Shame, really - despite her mind, she was quite something to look at." He smirks slyly at that.
Ina'thia continues waving her fingers, "Naaaaaaraaaa~ easy on the eyes, but difficult in all other ways~" She finally stops with her spooky naming of exes, "Hell. We sure did know how to pick them, didn't we?"
Ruthar smirks. If he were a smoker, he'd light one up for a looooong drag. Instead, he just leans against the post. "They were enough to take me off the market, if that says anything," he admits with shrug. "Like you said - put me in the field to hunt things down and I've got no problem. Ask me to untangle the maze of love and you're better off trying to ask a lynx to cook you breakfast."
Ina'thia smirks in return to Ruthar, "You know, I was having a similar conversation with another knight just last night. End up with the wrong person? Just keep trying until you find the right one. But if you date -too- much, then you're a terrible person."
"I hate it."
Ruthar smirks. "Just don't call it dating and all is well."
"Mmm! Got me on the technicality, then. So what about you, though? Should someone I know be looking for a handsome ranger to not-date, shall I set the two of you up?"
Ruthar chuckles. "I haven't given it much thought, lately. To be honest, I really went all in when I came back to the Farstriders full-time. Hasn't been a lot of room for extracirricular activity. But, I suppose it's a time of peace. Who knows which way the wind will blow?”
Ina'thia gives Ruthar a flat stare at that, and it's clear that she's thinking of something to say that's not too crass, but just crass enough. Finally, she gives up. "If you can find time for extracurricular activities in a tent in a temporary garrison, you can find time for it here."
Ruthar laughs at that. "There is always time for -that- side of things, true. The relationship hunting aspect, different story."
Ina'thia touches her chin thoughtfully, "I thought a Farstrider would be good at the -hunting- part."
Ruthar smirks. "I could say the same about finding the "light" in life for you Knights, but I'll save that one for later."
Ina'thia gives Ruthar a flat look, although it's in jest. "A Blood Knight doesn't -find- the Light. Haven't you heard? We're the true masters."
Ruthar chuckles at that. "I'll admit it - sleeping with a personal Sunwell does sound somewhat enticing."
Ina'thia keeps her fingers tapping gently on her chin, "Mmm. Maybe I'll just have to be a matchmaker. Add it to my long list of responsibilities as a Knight-Lord."
Ruthar shakes his head with a smirk. "When I mentioned that I missed the days of interdisciplinary units, this isn't exactly what I meant." He looks to Ina's Blood Knight tabard with a shrug. "But hey, can't say I've had much luck with rangers anyhow," he quips.
Ina'thia snickers at Ruthar, "...I knew what you meant, but I couldn't resist. I've missed having Farstriders, Magisters and Spellbreakers around. Then again, I only had Pandaren monks and an ex-Spellbreaker around for years."
Ruthar nods. "I really regret not spending more time in Pandaria. It is such a beautiful place. Shame my time there was cut short."
"I have mixed feelings about it,” Ina’thia replies. “On one hand, beautiful scenery. On the other hand, the old gods. Both times I was there, actually."
“Surely they aren't still a problem up there?” Ruthar asks.
Ina'thia scrunches her brow as she thinks, "Not anymore, I don't think. But I was there at Kun-Lai when the Black Empire attacked."
Ruthar claps the upper right of her shield on her back. "And lived to tell the tale. I'll never not be impressed by that, truly."
Ina'thia allows a genuine, if even prideful smile at that. "Someone, years ago, said something about me that I won't ever forget. Too stubborn to die. Ever the truth for me. And when I finally stop being stubborn and croak, then I'll retire."
Ruthar smirks at that. "Too stubborn to die - that's certainly one way to put it. Too -busy- to die, or too -needed- to die are probably more accurate." He snaps straighter. "Speaking of, when I was collecting the paperwork from your newly-compromised office, I recalled one of my fondest memories of the Guard, handing out the Commendations of Quel'Thalas. You still have yours?"
Ina'thia tucks a finger under her tabard and fishes around for a leather cord, which holds a familiar -- yet quite tarnished -- Commendation of Quel'Thalas. A gold ring with a familiar enchanted ruby and a black band with a gold line in the center are also strung on the cord. "It's been through hell and back, but yes. I kept it."
Ruthar looks to the Commendation fondly, his memory slipping back to the ceremony on Quel'Danas. "I don't think I've ever swelled with pride more than that day. It's really something when you think back to everything we've done. Hard to imagine what made me press onward after nearly dying in Hearthglen, but I'm damn glad I did."
Ina'thia watches the medal closely, and what little light the tarnished surface reflects catches an odd shimmer in her eye. She rests it over her tabard. "Honestly? Part of me thought you were going to transfer immediately."
"I'm so very, very glad you didn't."
Ruthar smiles genuinely at that. "Same," he says simply, keeping his emotions in check. "I certainly wouldn't be the ranger I am today without the Guard, without you. I never really tasted the mantle of leadership or saw myself in that kind of role, but," he glances to the trainees filing in and out. "Here we are."
Ina'thia 's expression goes quite serious for a moment, "...The Guard gave me something to live for when I thought all hope was lost. Leading made me learn and grow so much. I made my fair share of mistakes... but who hasn't?"
"The lessons I learned with the Guard kept me going through all that's happened in the last seven years."
Ruthar nods. "It still keeps me going, shelved or not."
Ina'thia nods once, "Me, too. Maybe someday we'll be called into that service again. For now, though? No reason the Farstriders and the Blood Knights can't work together."
Ruthar nods at that, standing straighter. "I'd have it no other way. One of the most important lessons that the Guard left upon me, indeed." He looks down to the medal once again before taking a step back to regard her fully. "Silvermoon is a better place with you back in it, that's for damn sure. Sadly, though, I've got to get these recruits back to Valdrakken."
Ina'thia also squares her shoulders and lifts her chin a little bit. Posture, it's important! "Thanks, Ruthar. Truly. But, yes! Go tend to the recruits. Whip 'em into shape before I get called in to do it." She smirks.
Ruthar chuckles at that. "Perhaps one day we'll both have Lord in our title. But until then, you're free to boss around my Farstriders as you see fit."
Ina'thia reaches out to gently pat the non-spikey part of Ruthar's pauldron, "You've more than earned it. And when the time comes, you will have this Knight-Lord's unending, glowing recommendations. For now, though... best tend to those recruits."
Ruthar smiles, looking at the recruits now filing up. "Sunwell guide, Ina'thia. Let's grab dinner in Fairbreeze soon, hmm? Could use some conversation without the endless presence of the Square." He offers a casual salute and reaches down to gather his helmet and satchel.
Ina'thia offers Ruthar a warm smile, though it quickly turns into a stern look when one recruit dares to return her gaze. "Sunwell guide, Ruthar. I'll make the arrangements for dinner."
"Silvermoon Ranger says: "Straight and true, that's the way," repeats the dutiful Silvermoon ranger in Farstriders' Square.
Ruthar offers some advice to the young recruits. "Just a little firmer in the hand is all, and a touch higher. Once again."
“Or, set that silly stringed stick aside and study magic,” Bey'ron adds, smirking.
Ruthar looks over his spectacles to Bey'ron. "Ah, Lord Everblaze. Arcane shot comes a little later on, I'm afraid." He gives the Farstrider a pat on the shoulder. "Excuse me," he offers softly, shifting away from the training ground.
Bey'ron follows wordlessly, stepping aside and out of earshot of the fledgling Farstriders.
Ruthar nods respectfully in greeting. "I didn't expect to see you quite this soon, Magister. I hope all is moving along well?"
“Mm, quite well. Magistrix Starfrost finished her analysis of the ruby communicator.” Bey'ron holds out his hand, palm up. It's...empty. But not for long, as a flash of emerald flame briefly engulfs his hand, then vanishes leaving a miraculously un-singed scroll.
Ruthar watches as the scroll appears in the Magister's hand. "Lady Starfrost continues to amaze with her talents and expedience. Do send her my most sincere thanks for what must have been a laborious task." He looks down to the scroll. "Is this the full account or a summary of the findings?"
Bey'ron lifts and lowers the scroll, as if weighing it. It's... quite a roll of parchment. "I'm told it encapsulates everything. From the moment of desertion, to my encounter with her in Valdrakken."
Ruthar raises his hand. "May I?"
“I insist. I grow weary of holding it.”
Ruthar smirks at that, taking hold of the report. It is indeed a hefty heap of parchment. He gently removes the seal and takes a look at the first page to find the smallest of writing squeezed onto the pages. "Well, this will take some time to digest. I don't suppose the Magistrix offered you a summary before handing it over?"
“From what she told me... it's a rather boring read. Our wayward Farstrider friend spent most of her days wandering the wilderness. Restocking supplies every now and then, but nothing even remotely hinting at Alliance sympathies or connections.” Bey'ron shrugs, idly inspecting his gloves. "Four years of camping under the stars and drinking water from streams. Can you imagine such mind-numbing monotony?"
Ruthar doesn't seem as elated as one may expect at the news, his mind moving quickly. "It is hard to imagine, to be honest. A Farstrider of such skill and dedication shifting to a semi-nomadic lifestyle for an extended period." He holds the parchment up. "This report certainly holds the truth, in any case."
“Indeed. The mundane, boring truth. With how contrite and self-depreciative she was, I expected -something- compromising, if I'm being honest. I suppose her guilt really does stem from a betrayal of her sense of duty.” Bey'ron sighs, as if disappointed. "But not any -actual- betrayal."
Ruthar looks down to the scroll. "If one admits to defecting, you would think there would be a strong reason for it."
“Stronger than turning her back on her people? Her friends? Her mentor?”
Ruthar nods. "Indeed. I would expect there to be something truly weighty to cause such an act." He sighs. "Alas, here we are. She will still have to testify, of course. If, for some reason, these contents don't match her statements, that could be an entirely different situation."
Bey'ron raises his brow. "You think she may be lying about having kept the ruby on her person at all times?"
“I merely posit that there are many possibilities and factors to take into account. If she agrees to a hearing and her testimony matches the contents of the report quite effectively, then I think this matter could be resolved quite quickly.”
Bey'ron nods slowly. "Mm. So be it. I'll bring her to you this week, and we'll put this matter to rest once and for all."
“Is she currently in residence at your manor? I will have the Farstriders draft up a notice that will need to be sent her way informing her of next steps.”
“My manor? Certainly not. She's rather free-range, going where she pleases. I have my man Kynlea Sunstriker escorting her, keeping me apprised of her movements and locations. Last word I received this morning, she was in the Twilight Highlands.”
Ruthar nods. "Of course, though should I assume you have a way to get a missive into the hands of your agent Sunstriker?"
Bey'ron smirks. "Naturally."
Ruthar nods. "Very good, I'll have the missive sent your way for proper forwarding. Do you have the gem with you as well?"
“Mm, I do. Would you like to keep possession of it as well?”
“It could be considered evidence, so best to keep it paired with the report if possible.”
Bey'ron nods once. He snaps his fingers-- and a rift of darkness tears open beside him. Thannos materializes from the darkness, holding a small decorative box. The creature holds it out for Ruthar to take.
Ruthar looks to the formerly-bartending minion with a small hint of disappointment before reaching down to take the box. He lifts the lid to ensure that there is indeed the necklace in question within.
Bey'ron snaps again. Thannos emits a hollow echoing groan... before vanishing from sight! The box does, indeed, hold the ruby necklace in question.
Ruthar gently closes the lid. He opens to thank the creature but realizes it is now gone. "Excellent, it looks like everything is in order. Your work has been and continues to be of great service, Magister."
“Mm, I'm well aware. Magistrix Starfrost helped as well, of course. I'll pass along your appreciation.”
Ruthar nods. "Please do. I would imagine that you would both be encouraged to participate in the proceedings considering your involvement, should you be willing."
“I expected nothing less. In truth... I worry Miss Li-Mei will flounder and panic on her own before a Farstrider court. Given how generous and invested I am... I'm of a mind to serve as her Counsel in this matter.” Bey'ron sighs. "She's very obviously wracked with guilt. I've seen even the most stoic of Spellbreakers crumble and break down in testimonials. It's for the best, I think you'll agree. I imagine you'd wish to yourself, but... given your history with Miss Li-Mei and position among the Farstriders, such would appear... improper, hmm?”
Ruthar raises an eyebrow at that. "She would of course be welcome to include someone to serve on her behalf, though I'm not sure the Farstriders will see the one who reported her return and assigned her protection as impartial. Not to mention that she is in your service, now.”
Bey'ron smirks. "You're only pointing out further reasons it would be -prudent- for me to serve as her Counsel. She came to me, seeking guidance. She works under my employ. Counsel isn't meant to be impartial, Ranger Captain. That's the duty of those passing judgment.” Bey'ron chuckles, and shakes his head. "I'd be poor Counsel indeed, if I didn't argue from the grounds of her presumed innocence, don't you think?"
Ruthar taps his lips at that. "Perhaps," he offers. "I will pass such an offer along with the evidence. Should Li-Mei reply to the missive with a request for you to serve as her representative, then I am sure it will be fairly considered. Certainly your status in Silvermoon speaks volumes as well.”
“Of course. The decision is, ultimately, hers. Should she wish to represent herself in this matter, I'll merely attend.”
Ruthar nods. "We shall see how she replies to the proceedings. If her return to the ranks is truly what she desires, than I would expect nothing less than her full cooperation."
“Certainly so. I'll be sure to pass the summons along to her, through Sunstriker.”
Ruthar nods. "Excellent. I will get all this submitted presently. Is there anything else I can do for you this evening, Magister?"
Bey'ron shakes his head. "Nothing at present, no. But should something arise requiring your expertise or guidance, I'll not hesitate in asking." he smirks.
Ruthar removes his glasses. "Within reason, of course," he says, returning the smirk.
“Mm, of course. For now, harmonious cooperation between us is its own reward, don't you agree? Exemplary, even. If only it were so that the Magistry and Farstriders all worked together so well.”
“I do, and I do mean that sincerely. It is indeed great what can be achieved beyond the unfortunatley common pettiness.”
“All for the good of Quel'Thalas. Perhaps in time, such cohesion will be the rule, rather than the rare exception.” Bey'ron waves his hand, chuckling. "Ah, but we can wax philosophical another time. We both have much to do, yes?"
Ruthar nods. "We've come a long way, but there is always more work to be done. I appreciate your work setting such a strong example. I greatly look forward to continuing in kind. But yes, you are correct." He holds the report aloft with the box atop. "Much to do, indeed."
“I'll leave you to it, Farstrider Captain. Best wishes in reviewing that... verbose report.” Bey'ron stifles a chuckle. Barely. "Until we meet again, Sunwell guide."
Ruthar chuckles at that. "I've read worse. Sunwell guide, Magister. Do be on the lookout for the courier within the next few days."
Bey'ron bows his head politely, before turning to depart.
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Ina'thia makes the long walk up the spire to the Phoenix Guard's former headquarters, motivated by the promise of wine and memories. She hopes for good memories, but if not, there's wine for that. The former Commander marches to the door, and lets out a frustrated hiss when it is, in fact, locked! She jiggles the handle, then begins pulling on it.
Ruthar makes his way up, a pair of dusty wine bottles and a pair of crystal glasses in his hand. He hears the jiggling of the locked knob. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised by that," he says with a chuckle. "It has been quite some time."
Ina'thia seems to be taking her anger, which had been buried deep for years, out on the door. She becomes more forceful with it. "Of course it's locked. Why wouldn't it be? Did they give me a key? Fuck if I know. I've been gone for seven - " she kicks the door once then twice. " "- YEARS." With a final kick, the door swings open in a whirl of dust and paperwork! It was exactly as it had been left, save for the layer of dust.
Ruthar opens his mouth to suggest something, but shuts it promptly as the door smashes inward. "That's one way to the put the shattered in Shattered Sun."
Ina'thia rakes a hand through her hair to toss it back over her shoulders, then steps into the office. It was small and cramped, but offered a beautiful view of the harbor. She'd lost count of how many nights she'd stayed up until the dawn here.
“I may have been a bit overealous.”
Ruthar makes his way into the office, the memories flooding back as he moves from the main meeting room into her office. "Perhaps a touch," he offers. He places the bottles and the glasses down on the desk, pushing a document out of the way. He lifts it up in his fingers, eyeing the red ink at the top. -Classified: Decommissioning Notice-
Ina'thia turns the decommissioning notice upside down, lest it sour her mood and make her become completely overzealous. "We spent a lot of time up here, didn't we? I remember planning our mission to Draenor and telling the others to get their affairs in order and make peace with the Light, or whatever they prayed to."
Ruthar nods, allowing a pause to settle as he moves to uncork one of the bottles. "I remember it very clearly. When I was captured in Tanaan, it was one of the things that truly kept me alive. Remembering the faces of all of you who accepted the suicidal portal mission." He pours the liquid into the glasses.
"Feels simultaenously like a lifetime ago and only yesterday."
Ina'thia pulls her gaze away from the harbor to Ruthar as he pours the wine. The pop of a cork seems to calm her heightened frustrations. "I really did think we were all going to die. Part of me thought you were dead already, and we were only going to recover your body. Gruesome times. I'm glad none of it came to pass."
Ruthar hoists the now-filled glasses and offers one to Ina'thia. He leans upon the edge of the desk, raising his up for a small toast. "Here's to being not as dead as we should be."
Ina'thia leans on the other edge of the desk and accepts the glass, eagerly toasting. "Here's to being too stubborn to die, no matter what is thrown in our paths."
Ruthar clinks the glass and takes a long sip, the bite of the old wine both a comfort and a memory. He looks out to the sea, holding his glass. "There is so much to discuss, even some recent things that are worth mentioning. I don't quite know where to begin - so many questions spring to mind."
Ina'thia takes a long sip of the wine as well. It's everything in her power not to drink it all in one go, but instead, savor the flavor. Just as she intended to savor the company and the locale. -
Ina'thia turns to face Ruthar. "You know you can ask me anything, Ruthar. You're my best friend, and always have been. A brother, even. No secrets."
Ruthar smiles against his glass as he takes another sip. "I know," he says softly, looking down into the wine itself. "And you have no idea how good that feels to hear," he offers, thinking of recent events. "I don't think I saw you at all since the decommissioning, then the next moment I hear you've departed entirely. So what's your story? You absolutely must have had a reason."
Ina'thia can't help herself; she takes that next long drink, and soon enough, the glass is empty. She holds it out for Ruthar to refill, because this story requires alcohol. And lots of it. "Well, it's a long one... I went directly back to Kul Tiras under the Horde's banner, in and around Stormsong Valley. Bloody battles. I retired from active duty not long after, and fooled myself into thinking I could do diplomacy and politics on a Magister's arm. Or was he on my arm? Hard to tell, really."
Ruthar gingerly takes the empty glass from her digits and just passes her the bottle. He doesn't interrupt the tale.
Ina'thia takes the glass back, but doesn't drink just yet. "I lived in Magister Everblaze's manor for some time... and I thought the monotony was getting to me. I started hearing things, at first. Then I began seeing them. Just little shadows from the corner of my eye. Then I couldn't see or hear or dream of anything but -him- and -his- Empire. I was losing it, Ruthar. Fuck. I had to leave. What if I attacked him? Retired Knight-Lord murders esteemed Magister! Or worse, Syrie and Gatto or their kid?"
“I -had- to leave.”
Ruthar considers that for a moment. "Did you find the source of such thoughts and whispers?"
Ina'thia gives Ruthar an odd look over her wine glass, "...It was the old god N'zoth. Shortly after I left, spires and faceless ones started appearing everywhere."
Ruthar blinks at that. "You...you're serious? I expected some sort of trick of the Magister, not the efforts of an Old God."
Ina'thia nods once, "Bey'ron is an absolutely insufferable asshole, but I know he would never do that to me. He was actually very kind to me while we were together. No... I was vulnerable, emotionally, after the Guard was decommissioned. Easy prey for an old god."
Ruthar looks at her with a truly concerned expression. "I'm sorry to hear that. I can only imagine how difficult those whispers were to silence. I heard so many stories from Kul Tiras, but I think you are the first I've spoken to with direct experience."
Ina'thia takes another long drink of wine, "It was a bloodbath, Ruthar. We've seen our share of combat with the Guard, but it was always for the good of Quel'Thalas or the world. We killed everyone. Farmers in their fields, their wives, their children. Even the cattle. No survivors. No resources. Burnt it all to the ground on the Warchief's order.”
Ruthar sighs, looking down into his wine. "I would have done anything for her," he admits. "She was my Ranger-General. I swore an oath that I held so firmly." He looks to her, his gaze supportive. "I would have done the very same."
Ina'thia watches Ruthar closely, "...She was -our- Ranger-General. Farstrider or not, we all loved and admired her. Either way... I left, and I went to Kun-Lai. It's a place that has brought me peace in tumultuous times past."
Ruthar nods. "Of course. Our. Hard to tell who still sees it that way after everything." He finishes his glass and slowly pours another. "And how was the Summit? I haven't been to Pandaria since I had a nasty incident with the mantid so many years back."
Ina'thia looks out over the harbor. "Still steep and cold as fuck. I climbed on foot, fell face-down in the snow and was dragged the rest of the way on a sled pulled by grummles."
Ruthar raises an eybrow at that. "And yet here you stand. I assume the mission was a success?"
Ina'thia looks down at her fingertips, "Had to recover from the frostbite and exposure, first. Stayed at the temple for a few months. I was in a bad way, Ruthar. Bad. I snapped out of it when the temple was attacked and I got punched in the face by another sin'dorei who was there. We fought back the faceless ones, and I chose to continue the fight. I've been everywhere hunting them. Tanaris. Silithus. Uldum. Un'goro. All of Kalimdor, and then some."
Ruthar nods slowly, his eyebrows still raised. "I will fully admit that this was not the story I was expecting in the least. Amazing that you could face N'Zoth's agents directly and live to tell the tale. For how long did you fight the n'raqi?"
Ina'thia purses her lips thoughtfully, then takes another sip of wine. "...Years, I think. I lost time for parts of it. Don't you fucking repeat that, either, or I'll never get reinstated."
Ruthar nods. "Duly noted," he says quickly. "So when did you return from it, then?"
Ina'thia rolls one shoulder, "...When I set foot back in Quel'Thalas. I took the longest route possible. Boats and zeppelins and mountain and forest trails. Gave myself every opportunity to turn around, and I kept walking. Figured I'd made it this far... it was really time to come home. Last week.”
Ruthar blinks, lowering his wineglass. "That is the kind of tale I would tell younglings at the Retreat. But here you are," he gestures to her form with his wineglass. "Alive to tell it yourself. I...don't know what to say." He lowers his glass, looking her
Ruthar over for signs of the experience. "Your return is that much more pleasing after hearing what you were up against."
Ina'thia seems to be in remarkably good health at a glance, all things considered. "Mm. And here I am, after I survived all of that, too afraid to talk to my exes. I'd rather take the years of solitude and fighting literal monsters."
Ruthar manages a smirk at that. "You can go to the very end of the world and fight monsters of untold power, and yet you are still you." He takes a sip of wine. "Speaking of, I've had interactions with said exes it seems."
Ina'thia 's ears droop a little bit in absolute embarrassment. "For fuck's sake. I need more wine." With that, she knocked back the rest of her second glass.
Ruthar laughs at that fully, knocking back his own and taking the empty glasses. He begins to uncork the second bottle. "But, before -that-," he begins, pausing his uncorking of the wine. "I'm...sorry for all of that. Truly." He sighs. "But what I am sorry about most is not being there to help. I'm not sure what I would have done if I had heard you were truly lost, but I know that I did not do anything to mitigate any of that. You deserve better from your friends." He finishes uncorking the wine and pours a fresh pair of very full glasses.
Ina'thia finally looks at Ruthar directly, with the unmistakable intensity of the Blood Knight he's known for years and years. Emboldened by the wine, of course. "Stop it, Ruthar. Don't pity me and don't blame yourself. I didn't -want- to be found. Sometimes, we have to do things on our own. Get lost. Be shattered. Put back the pieces. When I was ready to be found, I came back. And you were the first to find me... and I'm forever grateful for that."
Ruthar looks out across the sea once more. "It's not that I pity you, and I entirely agree - such a pilgrimage can be important for self-reflection and soul recrafting. It's more about what you said earlier, something that seems to be a common theme." He takes a quick sip as he conjures the direct quote. "Your vulnerability after the decommissioning. That's where I feel the most guilty. I should have been there in that aftermath - for you, for everyone." He shakes his head. "It may not have actually changed anything, but the guilt feels very real. I suppose I'm just trying to do my own soul-rebuilding.”
Ina'thia sips at her refilled glass of wine. She's quiet for a long while, listening to Ruthar as she thinks on his words. "...We all lost something precious that day. Some more than most. We both should have been there. For each other, for the others."
“I ran away, thinking I wasn't wanted.”
Ruthar looks down into his glass and then far across the sea. "Wasn't wanted," he repeated quietly. "I suppose therein lies the issue then, hmm?" He sighs. "Nothing could be further from the truth, Ina'thia." He looks to her directly. "Nothing. I may not have been the best to show it, but you are wanted. You are cared about. You are loved." His eyes glisten slightly with the sun of Quel'Danas through the balcony. "And it really is so- damn- good to have you back."
Ina'thia watches Ruthar quietly. Her remaining eye seems to shimmer just a little bit, but the ever-stalwart Blood Knight is skilled at hiding all emotions other than her frustration, anger or exasperation. "The mind plays tricks on us, Ruthar, especially when under influence of something as terrible as an old god. I know in my heart of hearts that you're speaking the truth, and have only spoken truths. But the me of seven years ago still wouldn't have believed you. That's over, though... in the past."
“I'm looking to the future.”
Ruthar nods, his fingers tapping against the wineglass. "And the only reason it is in the past is because you pushed onward. I truly hope you never forget that." He lifts his glass again with a gentle smile. "To the future, then."
Ina'thia reaches her glass over to touch it against Ruthar's, smirking a bit as they make a little 'clink!' noise. "What are -your- plans for the future?"
Ruthar chuckles. "I haven't given much thought to -my- future, to be perfectly honest. I can only assume that I will continue to serve the Kingdom in whatever capacity I am able." He takes a sip, seemingly more relaxed after releasing the weight from his chest. "I can, however, speak to the immediate future. There are some things in motion that are worth mentioning."
Ina'thia quirks a brow at Ruthar. "Things in motion? Go on..."
Ruthar places his glass down, refilling it. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow to Ina'thia as he holds the bottle toward her glass.
Ina'thia finishes the rest of her wine, holding out her empty glass for another refill. A gentle dusting of red is starting to form over her cheeks. She would undoubtedly be sleeping in this office once again. "Seriously. What's going on?"
Ruthar finishes filling the glasses and sets the wine bottle down. "Unexpectedly, quite a bit," he begins. "I had a meeting with Farstrider leadership in the Farstriders' Square not more than week ago at this point. As I began to depart to return to Valdrakken, I found myself face to face with Magister Everblaze. He had pressing information, it turns out."
Ina'thia does her best to not visibly flinch at the mention of Bey'ron. Now that she's three glasses of wine deep, it's harder to temper and hide her emotions. "Bey'ron -always- has pressing information, and it usually involves him climbing over someone else for-
Ina'thia - power." She rolls her eye, ever annoyed by the politics of Magisters.
Ruthar nods. "I would assume the same, naturally. But this was different." Ruthar sighs, looking down into the wine as his expression turns downward. "It seems that Li-Mei is a deserter in a very real sense."
Ina'thia 's other brow raises to match her inquisitive look, shifting it to genuine surprise. "...Truly? I never would have expected... she was always so loyal. Like a weird little hatchling, at times, but still loyal."
Ruthar nods. "Truly. Admitted by her own mouth, as it turns out." He shakes his head. "Her tale is not dissimilar to your own, to be quite honest. After the decommissioning, it appears that she was a bit lost and became disenfranchised with leadership. She departed without a trace after the Fourth War. We thought her dead and updated her record accordingly, but that seems to have been in error. She reached out to Bey'ron for help returning to Quel'Thalas. He obliged, for a price."
Ina'thia furrows her brow, "Well... I had the sense to retire from active duty, at least. I was never marked AWOL." Still, she frowns. "What is Bey'ron having her do to earn her place back here?"
Ruthar shrugs. "Something about 16 years of service or what have you. Honestly, I'm not even sure what entails." He takes another sip. "Regardless, Magistrix Starfrost is involved as well. It was really great to see her, despite the circumstances. She will be doing a magical investigation into Li-Mei's whereabouts. That particular data will help the Farstriders determine what her next moves are."
Ina'thia can't help but smile over her glass of wine, "Shit, Syrie's a full Magistrix now? I'm happy for her..." her thoughts then trail back to Li-Mei, and she sighs again. "Probably ironing his dresses and other mundane nonsense. Still, though... I hadn't thought of what would become of everyone else after the Guard was decommissioned. I'm saddened to hear that Li-Mei struggled so much."
Ruthar nods. "It weighs heavily," he admits, taking another sip. "I promoted her myself, even trained her a bit. She was...is quite talented. I don't know how this will shake out, but here we are."
Ina'thia sets her glass of wine down on the table, atop the turned over decommissioning notice. "Give her a proper hearing, let her serve consequences and earn her place back. Just as I have to earn mine. Part of picking up our shattered pieces is facing the consequences, isn't it?"
Ruthar nods. "Indeed it is. Sadly, this one isn't up to me. Due to our professional history, I would need to recuse myself from any such proceedings. Nothing to do at this point but to wait, really."
“The silver lining here, however, is that I got the chance to reconnect with both Starfrosts.”
Ina'thia also can't help but cringe at the mention of the Starfrosts. "And both of those things are why we have wine, Ruthar. Lots and lots of wine."
Ruthar smirks. "You know I have it in spades. But, do tell. From how he speaks of you, it seems like there is a story."
Ina'thia 's lip curls at the idea of telling that particular story. "It was stupid, embarrassing, and wildly inappropriate bullshit that happened after the Guard was decommissioned. Gattius was jealous and I was angry. I don't know if we'll ever be able to speak to each other civilly ever again."
“It seems that you both harbor a similar sentiment, then,” Ruthar offers.
In’athia offers a sigh. “Yeah... I imagine we probably do. It's fucked up, Ruthar. -I- fucked up. And him being mad at me is a consequence. I've endured worse. I'll live.”
Ruthar looks at her for a moment, but doesn't press the subject. "Syrie, on the other hand, sends her best. I told them both that I was following a lead to find you, so she asked me to relay her regards should I be successful."
Ina'thia smiles warmly at that, but it's a small sort of smile. "Thanks for covering for me. I don't know if I could handle seeing her anytime soon, either. She's got a kid now, it's all weird. I'm bad at this, okay? Give me a sword and an entire legion of enemies to fight, and I'll be fine."
Ruthar scoffs. "Perhaps you are bad at it, but at least you make an effort for better or worse, speaks to a strength I falter with." He takes a sip. "That said, one final piece of new information. After Syrie and Gattius departed last evening, I happened upon Raynell A'laria in the woods of all people."
“The cosmos work in mysterious ways, really.”
Ina'thia 's mouth actually hangs open at that, "A'laria? Truly? Holy shit... everyone's coming back. All at once. The cosmos is right. Next thing you know, we'll see Calthos and Hylaudius and the world will have truly ended."
Ruthar laughs out loud at that. "Now that would be...something," he says tactfully. “I didn't get much time with A'laria, sadly, but yes - she is returned. I do look forward to speaking with her further. By the look of her, there is quite a story to be had.”
“If they were to truly appear,” Ina’thia replies, “I think I'd die on the spot. Die dead. Cease to exist. Now, A'laria... hers is a story I would like to hear.
Ruthar chuckles as he finishes another glass. "Indeed. Though, I suspect you will hear it before I do. She was sporting the Blood Knight colours, afterall."
Ina'thia actually smiles at that, "...Good. I'm glad she still wears them. Hopefully I'm reinstated soon and can speak with her more easily."
Ruthar nods. "If I can be of any assistance with all that, do let me know. Speaking of," he says as he picks up the now-empty bottles. "Where are you staying?"
Ina'thia puzzles out Ruthar's question, to which the answer seemed quite obvious. "...Tonight? Here. I can't be fucked to travel anywhere else right now. Tomorrow, I'll be laying in the years of dust in my apartment in the city."
Ruthar looks around the dusty office, noting the distinct lack of comfort. "To Argus with that, you're not staying here." He gathers the bottles and takes the glasses. "Come on, I'll put you up in the inn across the way. They've got some nice beds."
Ina'thia had already started leaning on the table like she was going to curl up and sleep there. She groans loudly, but ultimately follows Ruthar. "Fine, if you insist... I guess it'd be nice to not be stiff in the morning..."
Ruthar gathers the bottles and glassware and throws them in his pack before assisting the inebriated Ina'thia out of the former Guard headquarters. Fortunately, none of the Shattered Sun pay them any mind, most likely due to the tabard Ruthar still sports as they move toward the inn. After a quick discussion with Inaara, a nice room overlooking the Isle’s scenery is prepared for Ina’thia for some well-deserved rest.
Ruthar departed once Ina’thia was settled, returning to the former Phoenix Guard headquarters, his head beginning to throb in the wine’s aftermath. He climbed the stairs once more, making his way to the top of the building to look upon the meeting room where so much happened. As he walked around, faces and images danced through his mind, memories, both fond and painful, swirling around his head as he recalled his many companions within the Guard.
He moved over to the broken office door, the latch cracked by Ina’thia’s gusto. With the security of the office compromised, Ruthar rummaged for a dusty box to collect the paperwork left behind. He overturned the decommissioning notice with a sigh, placing it in the box first as he stared down upon it. So much had changed with one simple parchment.
After the contents of the office were collected, he scribbled a note that he left with Innkeeper Inaara for when Ina’thia rose the next morning.
Ina’thia,
With the lock and latch of your former office broken, I gathered the Guard documents and will place them in a secure location for the time being, most likely with the other high-level Farstrider records in Silvermoon. Do let me know if you need them.
I do find it difficult to put in words how great it is to see you returned, so I’ll leave it there. Looking forward to more enjoyable evenings. Thank you for the opportunity to speak freely - it is an unfortunate rarity of late.
Rest well, you know where to find me.
Ruthar
Ruthar thanked Inaara once more for her efforts and informed her of the broken door - he didn’t want anyone thinking that the office was ransacked. He left a sum of gold with her to ensure that it was taken care of, as well as a few pieces for her troubles. With a nod of appreciation, the Ranger Captain departed Quel’Danas to return to Silvermoon.
@inathia
@thefugitivemango @syrielle @arosesrambles @raynellalaria for mentions
Ruthar returned to the Farstrider Retreat with Farstrider Kelnim, a promising ranger that has been working in Ruthar’s encampment outside of Valdrakken. The Ranger Captain racks his bow and removes his armour, stretching his fingers after removing his gauntlets as his thoughts swirl around his head.
“That Tannis boy really is something else,” Kelnim offers. “The Stafrosts seem like a great family, Ranger Captain.”
Ruthar smiles at that, his mind returning to his time with Syrielle and Gattius. “It was quite nice to catch up with them both. I appreciate your willingness to show the boy around while we spoke.”
Kelnim nodded. “Anytime, Ranger Captain. He reminds me of myself at his age.”
Ruthar chuckled. “Likewise. It really does warm the spirit knowing that such young minds are still ready and interested in the Farstrider ways. I would think the allure of magic and power would be able to capture most these days.”
Kelnim scoffed playfully at that. “Not for us, not for them. We will hardly be the last of us.”
“I hope you’re right,” Ruthar offered softly. “If and when the young Tannis does continue his studies, I’ll be sure to make sure he continues with yourself, at least at first. You seem to have a way with the young recruits.”
Kelnim smiled at that and bowed his head. “I would appreciate that, sir.”
Ruthar nodded, planting a hand on Kelnim’s shoulder. “We’ve all got our place in all of this. Perhaps recruitment and trainee assessment are your next steps. In any case, that will be all this evening, Kelnim. Thank you for your assistance with Tannis and with the potential intruder. Get some rest.”
Kelnim snapped a salute that Ruthar returned, watching the younger Farstrider depart. Ruthar walked outside near the fire where he conversed with Syrielle and Gattius not a few hours earlier. It had been an unexpectedly eventful day catching up with the Starfrosts and then coming upon Raynell A’laria in the woods beyond the Retreat. While it was great to see his comrades once again after so long, Ruthar felt the guilt set in once more as he thought more about them and their struggles. He leaned upon a post next to the fire, looking out into the twilight-touched Eversong as his mind wandered.
Raynell had been a part of the Dragonscale Expedition, a unit that he himself had worked for. Should he not have widened his eyes and fostered a relationship there? She mentioned difficulties in the Fourth War and even hinted at work beyond the veil. Could he have been present to assist with whatever difficulties she may have faced? And then there were the Starfrosts, Syrielle working her way into the upper reaches of the Magistry while Gattius had started a clinic of his own. As owners of a beautiful manor and parents of a fine and promising young boy, Ruthar couldn’t help but think of how he could have helped. Perhaps they didn’t need anything, truly, but who doesn’t need a friend every once in a while. These were more than just his comrades in the Phoenix Guard - these were his friends, the closest people he really had outside of his fellow soldiers. Certainly they deserved more from him than the nothingness he provided over the past six or seven years.
As Ruthar looks into the darkening woods, his vision is replaced with a memory. Gentle winds toss his silver-white hair as the golds and yellows of Quel’Danas radiate all around him as he stands before his comrades of the Phoenix Guard.
Ruthar smiles, tapping a small pouch upon his hip. "Quel'Thalas is proud, indeed. We all are - Commander Dawnblade, myself, Captain and Lieutenant Starfrost. Your extensive work has paved the way for a brighter tomorrow." He waves a hand around and looks to the warm foliage surrounding the spire. "Just as this Isle before us, Azeroth is once again defended at the hands of you all."
Syrielle reaches over to take Gattius' hand, smiling happily at everyone present. Ruthar looks to Aquilon "Will" Blackmarrow, one of the Phoenix Guard’s reservists. "Doctor," he says firmly. "Front and center, if you will."
Blackmarrow moves in front of Ruthar and snaps to attention. Ruthar looks the Death Knight up and down. "The kingdom of Quel'Thalas recognizes your service, Doctor," Ruthar begins, his felfire eyes dancing in the sunlight. "As a Reservist of the Phoenix Guard and a key component to our continued victories both home and abroad, I present you with this."
Ruthar reaches into the pouch at his side to produce a glinting golden piece affixed to a dazzling red and gold ribbon. "The Commendation of Quel'Thalas is not an adornment to be taken lightly. Wear it well, Doctor." He offers the commendation in both hands. The members of the Guard present cheer and celebrate the Doctor’s accolade as Blackmarrow quietly accepts the award, staring at it with an inscrutable look in his eyes. "Thank you, sir."
Ruthar places his hand upon his chest to bow a soft salute. "Congratulations, Reservist. You do us all proud." He turns to Syrielle. "Lieutenant," he says softly, gesturing before him. "If you will."
Gattius speaks lowly. "--Ooooh... you're in trooooouble!" Syrielle elbows Gattius in the side, mumbling the word 'Dork' under her breath before making her way to stand in front of Ruthar.
Ruthar looks proudly upon Syrielle. "Lieutenant Starfrost," he begins. "To say that your life has been eventful is a particularly striking understatement. From your promotion into Phoenix Guard's leadership all the way to the birth of your young one, you have taken every task and challenge thrown your way and met them with relentless vigor. For this marked perseverance, it is my honour to present you the Commendation of Quel'Thalas."
The Guard once again roars in celebration as the very winds of Quel’Danas seem to reply in kind. Syrielle smiles at Ruthar's words, nodding her head as she accepts the medal. "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander."
Ruthar bows his head respectfully. "Wear it well, Lieutenant." He glances around. "Doctor Sunfall, please." Kalithos Sunfall shifts forward. “Yes, sir?”
Ruthar smiles. "The task of healing this unit is a task I will never, ever envy. It is the work of sin'dorei such as yourself that ensures that there will be a tomorrow for so many." Ruthar looks around. "There is not a person in this room that has left the battlefield unscathed, and we all owe you a great debt. For that, Shield Sunfall, I present your Commendation."
Kalithos blushes and offers his thanks as his comrades of the Guard celebrate his achievement. “Thank you,sir!” Ruthar shakes his head. "Thank -you-, Sunfall. Wear it well." He smiles. "And speaking of Sunfall..." Ruthar gestures to Kalithos’s husband, Rethandral, and speads when he steps forward. "To say that things have been difficult for you recently would be, dare I say, an underestimation. But you owned up to your mistakes and made a concerted effort to move forward, learning from your experiences and crafting a new path forward." Ruthar smiles warmly as he looks upon Rethandral. "It is this quality of perseverance of personal growth that I truly admire, along with your tried and true abilities at the front lines of every engagement. Rethandral Sunfall, I am proud to offer you the Commendation of Quel'Thalas."
Ruthar salutes Rethandral as the Guard applauds once more. "Wear it well, Sunfall." He looks along the line again. "Doctor Dawncaster, please." Voka Dawncaster tries to walk as tall as he can, but he's strained, and it shows. He still hasn't fully acclimated to his robot leg. Ruthar looks at Voka for a long moment. "It lifts my spirit to see you standing before us, Spellweaver. You have given so much to your kingdom, to us all, and no amount of metallic adornment can truly repay you."
Voka rests his weight on the cane again, trying to be as respectful as he could manage. No standing at attention for this boy. "I would gladly give it again for our people."
Ruthar looks at Voka with pride. "In the coming weeks, I want you to work with the very best resources available to us on the Isle. I will make whatever arrangements that are necessary, but we will do everything we can to ensure your return to your former self." Ruthar stands straighter. "Spellweaver Dawncaster, for your amazing service to Quel'Thalas and a very promising future with the Phoenix Guard, I proudly present your Commendation." He offers the medal with both hands.
Voka accepts the commendation with one hand as the unit celebrates the achievement. "I shall strive to continue keeping everyone together."
Ruthar nods as Voka returns to the others. He searches the line for a familiar face, one who he served with for an extended period. "Ah, yes. Li-Mei, please step forward." Rositsa blinked but slowly stepped forward before halting in front of Ruthar.
Ruthar clears his throat, looking intently upon Rositsa. "One thousand, six hundred and seventy days." Ruthar counts upon his fingers as he speaks. "Four years, six months, and 27 days, if you include today as well." Ruthar looks around. "That, my friends, is how long Rositsa Li-Mei has been in service with the Phoenix Guard. Four and a half years is a true feat, Li-Mei, and it's truly hard to believe that it has been that long. You have truly become an integral part of this establishment and have learned so much from when we first met."
Rositsa flicked one ear forward and the other back, silently trying and failing to calucate Ruthar's math before offering a happy smile to Ina'thia, "I'm honored to serve under under all of you."
Ruthar clears his throat. "The pleasure is assuredly ours. For your outstanding service to both the Phoenix Guard and Azeroth herself, I present you the Commendation of Quel'Thalas." He offers the medal once more.
Rositsa gingerly took the medal before taking a small step back and dipping into a gracious bow, "Thank you, sir, I'm honored. I will do my best to make the Phoenix Guard and Quel'thalas proud."
Ruthar salutes Rosi proudly as the applause thunders once again. "You have already done that and more, Li-Mei. Wear it proudly." Rositsa smiled happily and quietly stepped back in line before pinning the medal to her tabard.
Ruthar taps the bag at his hip. "Not to worry - only a few more!" He looks to his left. "Captain, if you will.” Gattius falls in, front and center while Ruthar looks upon him. "The mantle of leadership is not one I ever truly wanted in my youth, to be quite honest. It takes a level head, firm ideals, and true selflessness, not to mention the tactical necessities." Ruthar clears his throat. "However, I am very, very glad to say that Captain Starfrost is all of those things and more. He has led our own to the gates of hell and back, time and time again, with poise and clarity every step of the way." Ruthar smiles. "For your continued efforts as an effective leader, an expert Blood Knight, and a master of fatherhood, I present you the Commendation of Quel'Thalas."
Gattius grins. "Well, I had a pair of excellent mentors... thank you, Lieutenant-Commander. Commander." He nods to them both as he accepts the Commendation.
Ruthar returns the salute fully. "Wear it well, Starfrost. You do us all proud." He glances to his right. "That only leaves one more," he says with a smile. "Commander Dawnblade, if you would please step forth." Ina’thia raises a brow at Ruthar, and steps around in front of him.
Ruthar looks proudly upon Ina'thia, felfire eyes aglow. "Commander Dawnblade. From the wilds of Pandaria, to the timeless shores of Draenor. Through the depths of the churning Maelstrom into the seat of the Legion itself. We have all gloriously followed in your very footsteps to every corner of our world and others, all in the name of Quel'Thalas. It is due to your expert guidance and keen leadership that the Phoenix Guard finds itself at the hands of victory."
Ruthar smiles. "Time and time again, we fight down terrors that rain upon our shores and beyond, defend all that we hold dear each and every day of our lives." His voice raises with pride and Ruthar stands tall. "Your years of service and dedication go far beyond that which can be said by the gift of this medal, and we are all humbly grateful for what you have done and accomplished. It is with the greatest amount of pride that I can muster that I present to you, Commander Dawnblade, the Commendation of Quel'Thalas." He holds the medal in two hands, offering it to Ina'thia.
The Phoenix Guard erupts in applause as the every-stalwart Ina’thia is pushed to the precipice of emotion. She fights back tears with her legendary resolve. She accepts the medal, pins it to her tabard, and offers Ruthar a crisp salute.
Ruthar bows fully, the soft glint of prideful tears in his eyes. He returns her salute proudly and takes a step back to gift Ina'thia the floor.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. It is an honor to serve Quel'Thalas with its finest soldiers. Blood Knights, Farstriders, Magisters, Medics... Phoenix Guard's greatness is not by my design, and I don't deserve all of the credit. We all deserve the credit. We give all that we can give; regularly putting ourselves in harm's way, for the good and the glory of our people. Thank you, everyone, for all that you have done and continue to do for the Phoenix Guard. For Quel'Thalas!” Inathia stands at attention and salutes.
Ruthar hoists a proud fist into the air. "For Quel'Thalas!" The salute is echoed by the present members at the ceremony, the sunlight of Quel’Danas fading, replaced by the current twilight in the Eversong Woods.
Ruthar finds his fist closed as he looks down to the fire, the memory feeling so very real as it came over him once more. The pride he felt in that moment on Quel’Danas was one of the highlights of his career. These were not just the best soldiers in Quel’Thalas - these were his best and closest friends, his family. He had the privilege to lead them, to walk with them in defense of all they held dear, to celebrate and mourn with them, to lift everyone up and celebrate them. When he was ripped through the Dark Portal to Draenor and left to die, it was the Phoenix Guard that rescued him. They risked everything for him time and time again, and how did he repay them for the last six years?
“I failed them.”
The reality of his failure had not felt as real as it did this evening. Ina’thia, his Commander, his closest confidant, had departed with no word. Relationships with Gattius and Bey’ron caused a great rift between his former Commander and his former Captain, instances that he knew nothing about. Would that rift have happened if he gave them the attention they deserved? Could he have helped to assuage the bitterness?
Then there was Rositsa Li-Mei. Ruthar sighed as he looked into the fire, thinking hard about the Farstrider. She had so dutifully served the Phoenix Guard for an extended period. Ruthar himself had offered her training and promoted her within the Farstriders for her excellent marksmanship and tracking abilities. Defected. That’s the word that continued to haunt him deeply, the word Magister Everblaze had used. He still couldn’t truly believe it, but then she confirmed it herself when Bey’ron brought Rositsa to the Starfrost manor. Would her fall from grace have taken place if Ruthar would have extended his hand? If he were the leader she needed, perhaps she would have never found herself needing to escape, needing to toss off the mantle of responsibility that Ruthar himself had blanketed her with.
He reached into a pouch at his waist to produce a glowing red gem, the arcane communicator that the Phoenix Guard used to use. He let it sit there in his palm, the firelight dancing upon the inactive deep red stone as his mind could still hear the voices that would come through it. He closed his palm around the stone, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes.
“You have a chance to make things right,” he said to himself. He slipped the stone back into his pouch before heading into the Retreat to put his recognizable Farstrider armour back on. He shifted outside where his white hawkstrider Arturian awaited, urging the beast toward the pavilion that the Phoenix Guard once used as its headquarters.
“Time to be the leader that you should have always been.”
"Such is the cost of war." - Ranger Captain Ruthar Ronaestrider Ruthar Aman'dorei Ronaestrider is a Ranger Captain of the Farstriders of Sil
Finally finished the huge project of getting all of Ruthar’s history in one place. It was a ton of work, but I’m super pleased to have everything easily accessible for RP reference.
Ruthar departs the interior of the Rangers' Lodge along with a series of other Farstrider leaders. They all look somewhat worn after what must have been a lengthy meeting of the minds. His bow and helmet are racked inside the lodge.
Bey'ron leans up against the doorway. "It always smells so... -rugged- in here, don't you think? I've always appreciated how Farstriders aren't afraid to get their hands dirty." he smirks, eyes meeting Ruthar's.
Ruthar halts in his departure, shifting to the side nearer Bey'ron. "Magister Everblaze," he begins, bowing his head in a small greeting. He turns a slight smirk. "Rugged is a...pleasant way to put it." He gestures behind him. "Please, come in - it has certainly been some time."
[Bey'ron]: Too long, I'd submit.
Bey'ron takes Ruthar up on the offer, and steps past him to get into the Lodge proper. He pulls back his hood as he looks around, admiring the trophies and displays.
Ruthar folds his hands behind his back, his gaze following the Magister's. He stands to his left but behind him slightly. "Too long, indeed. I hope the aftermath of the Incarnate dealings has been agreeable to you and your own."
[Bey'ron]: Mm, it resolved rather satisfactorily, I should think.
[Ruthar]: It's good to be back in Silvermoon, in any case. Even if temporarily.
Bey'ron sets his staff aside-- it hovers upright and in place. He turns to Ruthar, and smiles. "It always is, isn't it? The city itself defines the word 'home' for me. I could never imagine leaving it for too long."
[Bey'ron]: Though, I suppose you'd have to depart, if only for a short time, to truly appreciate the feeling of returning. That sense of peace, hmm? Of belonging.
Bey'ron shakes his head. "I suppose, in that way, I envy Miss Li-Mei."
Ruthar nods in agreement. "Fortunately, the return to home is usually trivial, thanks to the expert work of the Magistry." He holds a finger aloft to garner the attention of a newer recruit. "Can I get you a beverege, Magis..." Ruthar let's that hang in the air as Bey'ron offers Rosi's name.
[Bey'ron]: Oh, nothing for me, thank you.
Beyron grins at you wickedly.
Ruthar puts his finger down and the confused looking recruit scurries away. Ruthar reaches into his hauberk to produce a handwritten note. He unfolds it and passes it over to Bey'ron. "I have to say, I'm surprised to hear that name. Doubly so after receiving this. I had my doubts about who it was from, but I doubt this is mere happenstance."
Bey'ron accepts the note, and looks it over. "--Tch... seems someone spoiled the surprise." he frowns lightly.
[Bey'ron]: Just as well. My first instinct was to come to you about it, of course. If anyone would want to know about a Farstrider deserter returning to the High Kingdom, I knew it'd be you.
Bey'ron hands the missive back. "Given your mutual history, of course."
Ruthar takes that in for a moment, accepting the missive and returning it beneath his tabard. He smooths the fabric before replying.
[Ruthar]: I had assumed she had fallen in combat after reading the report of her absence, a rather unfortunate loss - such a promising Farstrider, it was a pleasure to promote her to the rank myself.
Ruthar sighs, glancing over toward nothing in particular. "Deserter? Now...that is something else."
Bey'ron raises his brow. "Oh? You didn't know... well, I suppose assuming she'd died valiantly in defense of the High Kingdom would weigh better than her turning her back on it." he sighs.
Ruthar 's demeanor darkens somewhat. "Indeed," he replies slowly. "I assume you have the pertinent details, then?"
[Bey'ron]: But of course. And I'm happy to share them with you, Captain. That's why I'm here.
Bey'ron waves a hand. "Now, you'll have to forgive me for not delivering her here in person. Frankly... I'm not entirely sure what you'd want done with her. So let me tell you what's happened, and give a recommendation, hmm?"
[Bey'ron]: To my surprise, I encountered her on the Dragon Isles. Hiding away from here. I came to learn she'd left Quel'Thalas sometime during the Fourth War. Something about serving the Dark Lady, albeit indirectly, must not have sat all too well with her.
Ruthar nods, gesturing over toward a desk, his mind moving just barely too quickly to notice the mistake in his title. "Before we continue, and if you'll allow, I'd like to take a record of the account to update our files." He slides a quill into his fingers as he looks expectantly to Bey'ron.
[Bey'ron]: --Ah, of course. By all means, Captain.
Ruthar quickly slides a blank piece of parchment over and begins to scribble on it. "Ranger Captain," he says more firmly than he intended. He writes quickly but pauses to add a question. "Where, exactly, in the Dragon Isles did you locate her initially?"
Bey'ron clasps his hands behind his back. "Well, my sources located her out and about. But I approached her in person for the first time just outside Valdrakken."
[Ruthar]: We have a Farstrider encampment outside of the city, as I'm sure you are aware. That explains the note easily enough.
[Bey'ron]: Cautious little thing. I'm surprised she didn't flee immediately. But alas, we shared a brief dialogue, and I was able to glean that she left in a disagreement with Horde leadership.
Ruthar continues to write, pausing again. "If it were a matter as trivial as that, I would think there would be record of it somewhere."
[Bey'ron]: I have no such record, I'm afraid. To be frank... I hadn't given her much thought, until I heard she'd been seen around the Dragon Isles.
Bey'ron shakes his head. "Nonetheless, I'm a firm believer in second chances. So I offered her a chance to put her expertise to good use. And if you can find nothing else to be proud of in this tale, take pride in the fact that she certainly delivered."
[Bey'ron]: That's when she approached me about coming back to Quel'Thalas. She sent me a missive, and asked to meet.
Ruthar nods, writing the offered details after dipping the quill in an inkwell. "She sent you a missive after you met face-to-face and assigned her an assignment?"
[Bey'ron]: Mm, that's correct.
Ruthar scratches out a few words and amends the document. "I have to say, Magister, that I am surprised that your first reaction was not to inform the Farstriders before sending her on an errand. I assume it was something of great importance to Quel'Thalas's actions in the Isles?"
Bey'ron shrugs. "I'm sure it's not quite what you would have done, but I saw an opportunity to set her back on the right path. And she took it. If she hadn't, I would have brought this exchange to light much sooner."
[Bey'ron]: I'm afraid I can't go into details about the assignment. But I can tell you that her choosing to accept and complete it most assuredly met with Quel'Thalas' best interests.
Ruthar nods, accepting the reasoning. "Testing the heart of a deserter is an acceptable play, though I'm sure the Farstriders would have preferred performing such a test themselves." He writes a few more words. "I appreciate your diligence, personally." He finishes a few lines. "I have it noted that she performed duties for the Magistry under the direction of yourself. I assume that will suffice."
[Bey'ron]: It very well should.
[Bey'ron]: In any case, that's when she reached out via the aforementioned missive, and asked to meet. We discussed what exactly it would take for her to return to Quel'Thalas under honorable conditions.
Ruthar jots that down and looks to Bey'ron. "Respectfully, that may be for the Farstrider leadership to decide, should more details come out once she is spoken to. However, I would like to hear the details of that conversation for the record."
Bey'ron smirks, and shakes his head. "Before all that, we've reached the point of this conversation where I'd like to hear -your- thoughts, Ranger Captain."
[Bey'ron]: For all intents and purposes, you -are- the Farstrider leadership. Were she in your custody now... what would your decision be regarding her fate?
Beyron peers at you searchingly.
Ruthar places down the quill next to the unfinished report. "Protocol demands more information first and foremost. I would need further information on her actions and whereabouts in the time since her departure. It would be of critical importance to ensure that any information that she was privy to was not improperly released. I would have suggested she be detained during that investigative period. Considering her departure was during the conflict of the Fourth War, there could be serious ramifications if she had offered information to the Alliance during that time of conflict."
Bey'ron nods firmly. "A sensible response. Protocol in full consideration of the security of Quel'Thalas. I'd expect nothing less from a Ranger Captain."
[Bey'ron]: But... now that you've recited the Farstrider Handbook for me, let's set that aside. Off the record...
Bey'ron steps forward, lowering his voice. "How would -you- like to see this resolved? You, Ruthar. Not Farstrider Captain Ronaestrider."
[Bey'ron]: I'm not certain how close you two were, but if her -crippling- fear of what you might think of all this is any indication, you two were close, hmm?
Bey'ron shakes his head. "Not suggesting anything untoward, mind you. A mentor-mentee relationship, at the very least."
Ruthar purses his lips, standing straighter. "If she finds herself mired in -crippling- fear over my reaction to this, then I fear that she has done something that would be very difficult for a Farstrider, potentially former in this case, to recover from. Regrettably, both my personal reaction as well as my official rests upon the truth of her absence."
[Bey'ron]: Mm. Insightful. Cautious. Admirable traits, indeed.
[Bey'ron]: You'd see justice done, whatever form it takes, hmm? Regardless of the ramifications it may have for you, personally. Commendable, most assuredly.
Bey'ron unclasps his hands and brings his arms in front of him, idly straightening his sleeves and adjusting his cuffs.
Ruthar nods, his expression stoic. "I would. It would not be the first time that duty had taken precendence over my personal relationships."
[Bey'ron]: I'm certain anyone with sense would see this was well beyond your control. I mean, yes-- you had a part in her training, vetting, and promotion. But all that can only reflect so poorly on you.
Bey'ron sighs. "Or the Phoenix Guard. Sun willing, her indiscretions won't soil the organization's good name. True heritage we all share, that."
Ruthar doesn't visibly react to that. "Indeed. Nor will this have been the first time a ranger's actions have potentially marred the image of myself or my associates. You and I can both attest that times of war can drive certain individuals to drastic action."
[Bey'ron]: That we can. We can only hope such context factors in to whatever external jurisidiction determines Farstrider Li-Mei's fate.
Ruthar nods, reaching for the quill once more. "Agreed. Now, to your subsequent conversation with Li-Mei. Did you offer her a pathway forward for her desire to return home?"
Bey'ron exhales sharply. "--Ah. Well, that all seems rather irrelevant now, doesn't it? It's no more up to me than it is up to you what pathway to redemption lies before Li-Mei, is it? We'd have to handle that internally-- and discreetly-- for that."
[Bey'ron]: A curious alternative, to be sure.
Bey'ron plucks some imaginary debris from his robe. "Certainly an attractive option, I'd have to admit..."
Ruthar considers that for a moment, the quill still in-hand. "I suppose. Though, I have made note of your conversation with her here already." He glances around the Lodge to anyone nearby. "It would be preferred to wrap that up in some manner to formally close this particular parchment," he offers slightly quieter.
Bey'ron grins, and nods. "Of course, as you say. I told her that, were it up to me, she'd need to show in a tangible and unmistakable way that she is loyal to the High Kingdom, and felt deep remorse for any past falterings of that loyalty."
[Bey'ron]: After that, she departed. To where, I cannot say.
Ruthar nods, appreciating the Magister's understanding. He adds the final words and some filligree to the end of the document before signing it. He offers the quill to Bey'ron and slides the parchment over. "If you would review and sign, please - I will see this is processed formally." He lowers his voice slightly. "After which time I'd be happy to discuss further off-the-record."
[Bey'ron]: Certainly.
Bey'ron accepts the parchment, and sets it flat on the table. His eyes scan over the words, carefully-- quill in hand, at the ready. "I trust this will be filed away properly? I know it can be frustrating when such affidavits go missing at the Spire..."
Bey'ron nods once, and signs the parchment.
Ruthar nods, "You have my word, Magister Everblaze. Paperwork has, for better or worse, become one of my strong suits." He allows the ink to dry a moment before folding the parchment and sealing it with a red wax seal. "I appreciate you bringing this here personally. I realize how simple it would have been to send a note or a delegate - your offer of time and information is certainly noted and deeply appreciated."
[Bey'ron]: Ah, but of course! I'll admit I have a bit of a soft spot for the Phoenix Guard and its alumni. This issue, most certainly called for a personal involvement, I think.
Bey'ron clasps his hands behind his back. "Do keep me informed as to how this all plays out, hmm? I'd love to stay and discuss it further, but I'm needed back in the Spire. No rest for the wicked, you know." he smirks.
Ruthar lifts the sealed document from the table and nods. "Indeed I shall. I will get this submitted to have Li-Mei's record updated accordingly. Perhaps we can arrange an appointment in a few days time to...continue the discussion? Perhaps somewhere
Ruthar more...comfortable." He chooses his words carefully.
[Bey'ron]: That sounds most agreeable, Ranger Captain. We'll see it done.
Ruthar bows his head respectfully. "Thank you again for your time, Magister Everblaze. It is good to see you again. Sunwell guide."
[Bey'ron]: Mm, and you. Always a pleasure.
Bey'ron turns, and takes his staff up from where he left it lingering. "By the by... have you stopped in to visit Lady and Doctor Starfrost recently? On the subject of old alumni, of course."
[Bey'ron]: If you haven't, perhaps you should pay them a visit. Always a treat, visiting old friends. Who knows? You might even bump into some you didn't expect to see...
Ruthar shakes his head. "Sadly, my attention has been focused whole-heartedly on our efforts in Valdrakken. I should make a point to rectify that now that things are subsiding on the Isles. I was always very fond of Lady Starfrost." He considers the addendum, searching for the right words. "I look forward to it greatly," he adds, his mind considering a few possibilities.
[Ruthar]: Do send my very best if the opportunity presents itself.
[Bey'ron]: Likewise, should you encounter them before my next opportunity.
Bey'ron nods once, then pulls his hood up again. "Shorel'aran, Ranger Captain."
Ruthar nods, "You have my word. Al diel shala, Magister Everblaze."
A familiar figure stands at the shoreline of an equally familiar place. The once-Commander of the Phoenix Guard still holds her same rigid posture as she looks out to the sea, sipping from a cup of tea. Her armor pieces, survival bag and other (few) belongings are neatly arranged on a table behind her.
Ruthar enters the old Guard stomping grounds quietly, though not silently. He stands there for a moment, his mind flooded with memories before slowly moving toward the shoreline. His helmet is removed, the wind tossing his silver-white hair.
“So, it seems the reports are indeed true.”
Ina'thia's ears flick as she hears footsteps. Her hand instinctively grasps her sword. Then, the familiar voice. Her grip loosens. "...Good to know that the Farstriders still do their jobs well. It'd have been embarrassing to have snuck in completely unnoticed." With a grin, she turns on her heel to face Ruthar.
Ruthar's typically stoic visage turns a smile, the glint of a tear in his eyes as the sunlight reflects off of the water. "Commander Dawnblade," he says softly, moving toward the water's edge. He opens his mouth to continue but finds words difficult in the present situation.
Ina'thia also struggles with a faint glimmer of a tear in her eye. Ever the stoic Commander, she forces an even expression by raising her chin a little bit. "Just Ina'thia, these days..." she gently corrects, "Ranger-Captain."
Ruthar places his bow down on the table next to Ina'thia's belongings. "If titles are now off the table, then Ruthar will do. Let's leave Ranger Captain to the Farstrider recruits."
Ina'thia slowly closes the distance between herself and Ruthar, appraising his appearance with the keen gaze of a commanding officer. Some habits never really die. On the other hand, she looks as though she hasn't had a good night of sleep in years.
"Tell me everything, Ruthar. How have you been? What about your brother? Have you heard from any of the others since we parted ways? Are you doing okay?"
Ruthar raises his eyebrows at that. "Everything? I'm not entirely sure all of is it interesting." He chuckles as he removes his unnecessarily pointy gauntlets and places them next to Ana'dal. He takes a step closer and places his hand on Ina'thia's shoulder.
"In the last six years, I've never been happier to read a report than the one claiming that you've returned." He smiles genuinely even though his features may appear older. "It really is good to see you, and here - of all places." He looks behind him with a pleasant sigh. "Where it all began."
Ina'thia, now without fear of being scratched by unnecessarily pointy armor bits, goes right in for a hug when Ruthar places a hand on her shoulder. It's a tight hug, going on far longer than she would have ever allowed in her days as Commander.
"It's the only place that made any sense to come to." Finally, she releases him from the hug, but not without taking his hand. "...I'm -so- sorry for leaving the way I did. It's shameful."
Ruthar returns the hug whole-heartedly, cherishing the moment. He allows her to take his hand as the emotion continues to flow freely. He shakes his head slowly, his voice soft. "There is no shame to be had. So many wars, so much struggle." He sighs as he looks out to the ocean before squeezing her hand and looking back to her. "It has affected us all in so many ways." He shifts away to gather a pair of chairs that he places overlooking the water. "There is so much ground to cover, Ina'thia." He gestures toward the open seat as he stands next to his own.
Ina'thia squeezes Ruthar's hand in return, then follows his gaze and gesture to the open chairs. There was so much to talk about, they'd need chairs and maybe a few nights to cover it all. "I took dissolution and reassignment of the Guard harder than I thought I would," she finally admits after a long moment of silence. "Surprise."
Ruthar places his satchel down as he takes a seat, taking out a flask to sip on while Ina'thia enjoys her tea. He leans back, closing his eyes in thought for a just a moment. "You and me both," he admits. "The Guard was the closest thing I've had to a family since before the fall of Quel'Thalas." He looks out to the water again. "Between you and I, Rehmaar and I are just...not on the same path. We never really have been since we were reunited after we thought each other dead. The Guard filled that deep void, and by the Sunwell I miss it terribly." He lifts his flask in her direction. "There really was no greater honour than serving as your Lieutenant. From Hearthglen to being abducted in Draenor, I'd -almost- do it all again."
Ina'thia gives Ruthar a sidelong look as she sips her tea, frowning a bit. "The Guard was the family we all needed. It even included bratty younger siblings neither of us could stand," she laughs a little bit at that."We made a good family. I miss it terribly, but I'd be content never to journey to Draenor again."
Ruthar chuckles at that softly. "Deal," he agrees as the pain from his felfire chest scar throbs ever so slightly. "Bratty siblings, obstinate uncles, and relationships better left forgotten." He shakes his head with a smirk. "It really did have it all."
Ina'thia balances her teacup on her thigh and crosses her arms, gazing out at the sea. "Much as I miss everyone, there are some I'm still afraid to speak to. Gattius and I did not end things on a particularly good note," she frowns.
Ruthar allows that to hang in the air for a minute, considering his word choices with care. "Fear is a powerful thing. It has the ability to halt even the most prosperous of futures." He follows her gaze to the horizon. "When I first heard word that you had come back, fear was absolutely a factor - I truly had no idea how you would react to being discovered." He looks down to the immediate shoreline. "Overcoming fear is a path to great reward, a lesson it took far too long to understand."
Ina'thia can't help but chuckle a little bit, "I know better than to fight a ranger in their home forest, if that's what you were fearful about." After a bit of a lull, she wets her lips again to continue speaking. "Fear is what drove me away from home in the first place. After I came home from Kul Tiras, I heard the whispers. Then I saw the shadows. Little things, out of the corner of my eye. Then the obelisks. They were there, but they weren't."
Ina'thia hangs her head in a strange mix of shame, embarrassment and regret. "I had to leave before I hurt anyone."
Ruthar considers that for a long moment. "You did what you felt was right," he offers quietly. "There is no shame in that. More importantly, you are here...and N'Zoth is not."
Ina'thia 's face is hidden by her hair, which had fallen over her shoulders as she hung her head forward. "The Guard kept me sane through so many years by being something to focus on. Without it, I went actually gods-damned insane."
Ruthar nods, his mind spinning back to a time long ago. "In the aftermath of the Scourge, having lost truly everything, I was moments from fading to nothingness." He took a small sip from his flask as he watched the water roll over the sand. "Time and again, we find ourselves on the brink and yet here we are." His voice turns more declarative. "There is absolutely no shame in falling from grace in any capacity, Ina'thia. It is what we do after that truly matters." He looks her way with a genuine expression of care and concern. "And you don't need to do it alone. Ever."
Ina'thia would lean over to bump her shoulder against Ruthar's, but his armor was pointy there as well. "You're always so kind and reassuring to me, Ruthar. I... needed that," she finally admits, then downs the rest of her now cold tea. "I don't know what I'm going to do now, t hough. I just knew it was time to come home."
Ruthar nods, capping his flask. "It is time to come home. Time to be back in Quel'Thalas and re-evaluate. Nothing has reminded me of that more than being right here, right now." He gestures toward Quel'Danas in the distance. "For years now, I've served greater needs, needs far beyond what we have here in Quel'Thalas. But this," he reaches over to pat her knee, "Us. Our people. This place. These memories. -This- is what truly matters."
Ina'thia rests the teacup on her thigh again, "I served the greater needs for so long. No regard for myself. And when I was finally relieved of that burden, I didn't know who I was. I've traveled the world, Ruthar, and I still have trouble defining myself beyond what I think I should do instead of who I am. Maybe making amends is a good place to start."
"That means talking to Magister Everblaze... if I'm set on fire in the coming days, you'll know why."
Ruthar would spit out his drink if he had liquid in his mouth. He composes himself in an attempt to hide his shock. "I'm not entirely sure that's the best first move. I hate to use the term, but hatchling steps. Jumping right to the Magister seems like a lot very quickly."
Ina'thia raises a brow at Ruthar, "Do you really think so? I've always thought to do the hardest thing first. Get it out of the way quickly. But, I see the strategic advantage in apologizing to the most people -before- I meet a fiery end." Ina'thia touches her chin thoughtfully.
“I mean, the Farstriders caught wind of you rather quickly. I would imagine the Magistry wouldn't be -too- far behind.” Ruthar sighs. "Regardless, what do you owe him anyway? I never felt that he did much for -us-."
Ina'thia anxiously fidgets with her teacup, "Oh, I know he already knows I'm here. He has spies everywhere. They hide in plain sight, instead of the trees." She sighs. "...He and I became... involved. I left him without so much as a word."
Ruthar raises his eyebrows at that and considers it for a moment. "Well, like you said - he has spies everywhere. If he wanted revenge or retaliation for your actions, he would already have it, no?"
Ina'thia runs her thumb over the lip of her teacup. "He's a stubborn and prideful man. If anything, he'd refuse to speak to me, especially if he knows I want to apologize. Or, set me on fire. It'll be the toss of a gold coin."
Ruthar considers her words. "Do -you- want to apologize?"
"...I feel like it's something I should probably do, yes. I guess."
Ruthar nods, watching the rim of her empty teacup. "There is a hard line to walk when it comes to doing what is right and doing what is needed." He looks up at her. "I just want you doing what is best for -you-, first and foremost."
Ina'thia peers over at Ruthar, "What I -want- to do is drink a whole bottle of Eversong red and fall asleep by a tree somewhere. But what I need to do is, well... make amends to those I've hurt."
Ruthar reaches into his satchel and produces a bottle of Thalassian red, ever-prepared for these sorts of things. "I think both can be arranged," he says slyly.
Ina'thia lets out an audible gasp at the bottle of wine. Of course he, of all people, would be prepared for such an occasion. "Light and Sunwell bless you for this, Ruthar. You know me well."
Ruthar slips it back in his bag with a chuckle, standing up from the chair. "I think there are some glasses still inside somewhere," he says as he glances back toward the pavilion. "I believe a toast is in order - to a reunion so long in the making."
Ina'thia snatches up her teacup and rises, following Ruthar to the pavilion. "I think the last time we shared a bottle of wine, we just drank straight from it. Legs dangling over the edge of my balcony on Quel'Danas," she gestures to the isle in the distance.
Ruthar chuckles. "That sounds about right. Perhaps we should pay the Shattered Sun a visit."
Ina'thia fusses with her hair as they head over to the pavilion, "I think that's a great idea. See what's happened to my old office! Something dreadfully boring, I'm sure. Either way... it's been far too long since I've gazed upon the Sunwell."
Ruthar smiles. "I can think of no better way than to celebrate your return to Quel'Thalas than a voyage to the Isle." He gathers his items from the table and offers her belongings to her. "Shall we?"
Ina'thia begins the task of donning her armor once again. Despite its many pieces and parts, she's well-practiced in putting it on by herself. Soon enough, she has secured her runeblade to her belt and looks at Ruthar with a smile. A genuine one, this time.
"Ruthar... you are my greatest, and truest friend. My brother. To Quel'Danas!"
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The last rays of sunlight danced upon the spires of Valdrakken as drakes of various scales soared through the twilight skies. The celebration of life seemed to be endless, joy and mirth found in all corners of the ancient city. Laughter was shared between Horde and Alliance alike as new friendships were forged in the aftermath of another victory. The boughs of Amirdrassil bloomed with life and hope, a clear indication of the achievements of Azeroth’s protectors.
The dawn of a new chapter.
Again.
Standing atop the steps that lead up to the Seat of the Aspects was Ruthar Ronaestrider, Ranger Captain of the Farstriders, Reservist-Commander of the inactive Phoenix Guard, a Blood Elf who has sworn his life to the protection of his kingdom. He exhaled slowly as he looked out into the merriment below him, the gentle breeze pushing the feathers of his gold and red uniform. He watched as a kaldorei spoke with an orc near the central fountain, sharing a moment together in this time of unity. The scene shifted before him as the flagons of ale morphed into daggers, the clinking goblets becoming a clash of armament. The sparks of their weaponry flashed against the inky black sky as a snarl escaped the kaldorei’s lips with a flash of fangs.
”You seem troubled.”
Ruthar’s temporary reverie was halted by a familiar voice, the blackness returning to the purple twilight. He blinked away the images as the orc and night elf continued to share their drink at the fountain. Ruthar looked far into the distance, his scarred eyes searching for what lies beyond the horizon, for what comes next.
”With every victory there is darkness. Unknown.” He squeezeed his gloved hand around Ana’dal, his trusted phoenix-emblazoned bow, to ground himself for the moment. He closed his eyes and shook his head in an effort to displace the vision completely. “I can’t help but feel that this is all so…temporary.”
Ruthar looked down to see the exposed bones of his companion’s feet sticking out from beneath his cerulean robes. After a moment, the gravelly voice of a forsaken priest sliced through the silence. “Perhaps it is so,” the forsaken offered, his shoulders slumped as he, too, looked out toward the horizon. “How else are we supposed to see it when we have eyes that have seen so much?”
Tahlus Tourvald, an ambassador for the forsaken, was not someone Ruthar had expected to become close with, though he was sure that the forsaken was equally surprised by their partnership. For many years, Tahlus served as a forsaken ambassador in many of the Horde capital cities, a role that he found both difficult and rewarding. Spreading the offerings of the forsaken and convincing others that they were an asset was challenging, sometimes seemingly impossible, work. The impossibility only mounted further in the aftermath of Sylvanas’s actions of the Fourth War and subsequent betrayal of her people. Tahlus found himself in Silvermoon City trying to distance himself from the Banshee Queen and continue his efforts showing what he and his comrades could offer to anyone who would listen.
Ruthar was one who did listen. He found himself sympathetic Tahlus and the struggles of the undead. Though the forsaken were most directly affected by Sylvanas’s actions, her loyalists were not just within her own people. For his entire life, Ruthar idolized Sylvanas Windrunner. When he began his training as a Farstrider himself, Ruthar served beneath her leadership as Ranger General of Silvermoon. He was there when Silvermoon fell to Arthas and the Scourge, and he felt the deep loss when she was bested defending her home and her people. When it was discovered that Sylvanas survived the conflict as a banshee with free will, he, unlike so many, celebrated the victory and was thankful that her great legacy could continue. For years, Ruthar pushed for the unification of Silvermoon and Undercity, leaning upon the deep history that Sylvanas and Silvermoon shared, an aspect of sin’dorei history that too many were keen to forget. It made the Fourth War an unbearable conflict for the Ranger Captain as he found himself caught between service to his kin and dedication to the Windrunner legacy.
The Horde is nothing! You are all nothing!
Those words haunted both of them, the betrayal slicing deep. In the end, service to their kin, as ever, was the answer. Though both Ruthar and Tahlus had vastly different backgrounds, they found themselves united in cause - to help other members of the Horde who had been loyal find their new place in society after the Fourth War. While other heroes ventured into the realms of death in the Shadowlands, Ruthar and Tahlus stayed behind to further their mission. They worked with displaced forsaken in both Orgrimmar and Silvermoon after the loss of the Undercity to find their way to make amends, either by assisting in clean-up missions or other acts of service. Eventually, they would find themselves on different paths - Tahlus assisting the new Desolate Council with forsaken affairs and Ruthar with the Farstriders dealing with a renewed Scourge threat near Tranquillien. They both felt a great weight lifted from their shoulders when word came to them of Sylvanas’s fate in the Maw and her manipulation by the jailer, but the sting of betrayal would not be so easily forgotten.
The three years after the work in the Shadowlands was concluded were a time of relative peace for both Ruthar and Tahlus, but they were certainly not a time of inactivity. Their missions continued in full-force with Tahlus assisting the forsaken solidify their new future with the newly established Desolate Council and Ruthar working closely with the Farstriders to train a new generation of rangers. They both attended the celebrations of the marriage of Regent Lord Theron and First Arcanist Thalyssra, one of the most celebrated occasions of Silvermoon in recent times. It was a great reminder of what the world was like beyond conflict.
Peace never lasts, Ruthar had reminded himself and his trainees, and it wasn’t long before he and many of his Farstriders were called to action. Expeditions to the Dragon Isles were being planned to uncover secrets of the ancestral dragon homelands, and the Reliquary in Silvermoon was planning on joining forces with the Explorer’s League to create the Dragonscale Expedition. Ruthar arranged for many of his rangers to accompany the new project, though he himself had planned to remain in Silvermoon. It was Tahlus, of all people, who convinced the Ranger Captain to take the journey. The forsaken had decided to travel with a group of his colleagues who had taken a keen interest in the new discoveries that lay hidden on the ancient shores, and dangling the promise of research and cartography in front of Ruthar was enough to get him back into the action.
Naturally, the Expedition turned out to be far more than either of them bargained for. They found themselves back into the thick of the action with the primalist and incarnate threat, working alongside drakes and dragons of all scales to combat dangerous forces. The typical expectation, as Ruthar would put it. They had come out victorious, however, which is why they stood shoulder to shoulder on the steps that overlooked the courtyard in central Valdrakken.
The orc bellowed a haughty laugh and clinked his mug of ale against the kaldorei’s, the foam spilling over their hands as they celebrated with one another. Ruthar managed a small smile as he looked upon the pair. “These eyes have seen many things, indeed, Ambassador Tourvald,” Ruthar finally replied. “Though I’m not sure they expected to see this after…everything.”
Tahlus shrugged, his soft yellow eyes glowing from beneath his blue cowl. “What we ourselves deem impossible seems to become more commonplace with each passing year.”
Ruthar considered that for a long moment, his thoughts swirling around his mind. He recalled his capture and torture in Tanaan Jungle, the Phoenix Guard’s campaign against the Legion, his melted goggles outside of Hearthglen. A lot of that was impossible and yet here he stood. Naturally, his thoughts turned to close friends that were lost along the way, of the difficulties that were faced to overcome the challenging odds.
”The cost, though - it is difficult to see whether the cost is worth it.” He gestured out toward the courtyard beneath the Seat of the Aspects. “I am inclined to say yes when you look upon these faces, but…” He sighed as he looked down at his bow and his gloved hand. “There should be so many more enjoying this evening.”
Tahlus pulled back his sleeves to reveal his boney bandaged-wrapped hands and lifted them up. They glowed with the gentle powers of the Light as he washed Ruthar with a soothing prayer. “We would have done the same as they - given everything we could to ensure a better future for our kin.” He pushed just a touch to finish the warmth of the spell. “Dark Lady watch over you.”
Ruthar closed his eyes as the spell’s energies faded. He considered the meaning of that phrase and about how it has changed with Sylvanas’s duties in the Maw. “Sunwell guide,” he offered to Tahlus as he turned to depart down the stairs. “I’ll join you in a moment at the Roasted Ram.”
Tahlus chuckled, a deep guttural sound from his dry throat. “Even your thoughts won’t keep you from a glass of Eversong wine.”
Ruthar smirked at that, watching the forsaken slowly depart. He turned again to look upon the courtyard, affixing Ana’dal to his back and picking up his spiked helmet from the stone next to him. He paused as he heard the sound of quickly moving feet headed in his direction. Looking up, he saw a young Farstrider moving toward him. He raised a brow as the ranger ran up to him, a piece of crude parchment in his grasp. The Farstrider offered a quick salute that Ruthar returned while maintaining his curious expression.
”A message for you, sir,” he began, somewhat uncomfortably. Ruthar immediately felt as if something was amiss and his visage certainly showed it. “Was left at the encampment.” He snatched the note from the Farstrider’s hands and read it quickly.
This letter is to inform you that there have been sightings of one who you may know of, although their identity has yet to be confirmed. The rumors are that they’re female with red hair and reportedly wear a rose by their right ear and wears a silver necklace with a rune upon it. Word from the field is that she’s quite a good shot despite having extensive scarring around her eyes.
Ruthar looked up from the hastily scrawled note to the delivering ranger, his frustration on full display. “This was just left at the camp. No name, no information, no…nothing?”
The ranger looked concerned at the direct questioning. “No, sir - this is all that I have…”
“And no one saw this note being dropped off?” Ruthar inquired hotly.
“Not…not that I am aware,” he replied. Ruthar lofted an eyebrow. “...sir,” the ranger hastily added.
Ruthar sighed heavily, crumpling the note somewhat in a tightened grip. What was I just saying about peace? He turned from the Farstrider and looked down into the courtyard where Tahlus was walking toward the Roasted Ram. I wonder if he could trace some sort of magical aura or something, he coonsidered silently, his mind slipping away in thought once more.
After a long moment, the Ranger Captian recalled that the Farstrider was still standing there expectantly. He spun around. “Return to the encampment, see if there are further clues you can unearth where this letter was left. I don’t want to see another parchment dropped off without someone noticing.”
The Farstrider nodded. “Understood, sir.”
“Dismissed, Farstrider. Establish a minor watch with the unit so that we have keen eyes out.” He offered a somewhat lazy salute to the young ranger. “Then go enjoy some celebration.”
“Thank you, sir. It will be done. For Quel’Thalas.” The ranger returned Ruthar’s salute with a crisp offering of his own before hastily departing to tend to his duties. Ruthar watched him go before turning to look upon the square once again. He lifted the note once more, re-reading the description.
“It can’t be her,” he whispered to himself, thinking of who might fit that description. “It’s been sometime with no word. Why now?” His eyes moved to the soft glow emanating from the entryway to the Roasted Ram. He folded the letter and slipped it within his hauberk.
“Let us see what Ambassador Tourvald thinks of all this.”
"The Fool of Amahara" is a commission for the creator of the character Harunobu Kurou. Known as the The Eastern Wind, the Phoenix of Kurone, and the Fool of ...
Greetings, all!
Happy to unveil the most recent commission, this time for a Final Fantasy XIV character, Harunobu Kurou. This one was a blast to write to get the right feel, so please enjoy!
If you need original works for your character, guild, scene, story (anything!), please check out my page on the web - slots are open, so feel free to fill out that form and let me know what you need.
