Marital status: Married to Gattius Starfrost ( @gattius-starfrost )
Bookworm, intellectual and sweet, Syrielle isn’t hard to get along with. She’s a quick friend and, while initially shy, will talk your ear off when you get her excited over books and the arcane. She is fiercely loyal to Quel’Thalas.
Current Situation: Serving her kingdom as a Magistrix on Sun Council. Studying to become an Archmage.
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[[ Co-written with @thefugitivemango player of @brent-sunborn . @phaithkingston belongs to me. @kaiekasunwhisper , @cebinaruavin and @kynlea for character mention.]]
~*~*~
~ Gilneas, year 42 ~
Birds were chirping in the trees just outside the window at the Kingston residence. Phaith moved about the kitchen as she did every morning. She was an early riser, and often awoke before her partner. She’d gotten into the habit of making a late breakfast for herself and Brent. Today was a bit different, however. They had a guest!
The redhead smiled at the blue haired elven woman as she placed the food down on the table. A friend of Brent’s, she’d said… Phaith had been suspicious at first, worried that the woman might have been associated with Brent's past as a cultist, or perhaps an ex-girlfriend he’d neglected to mention… Thankfully, a brief conversation had put those worries to rest. One of the few friends Brent still had left in Quel’Thalas, it seemed.
“There we are. He should be joining us at any moment.”
As if on cue, the kettle whistled. Syrielle’s ears flickered happily as she watched the Gilnean woman head back over to the kitchen to remove it from the burner. There was an obvious noble upbringing in how she moved about, effortlessly and perfectly pouring three cups of tea and carrying the tray over without spilling a drop, as though she’d rehearsed the movements her entire life. Her posture was perfect, her hair and makeup done up nicely and she wore fine clothing that accentuated an amazing pair of breasts. Brent certainly had taste!
“Thank you,” she accepted the cup, suddenly happy that the same proper style and etiquette had been drilled into her as a Magistrix in Silvermoon City.
Part of her was excited to finally meet the woman Brent had been talking about over the past few years, but at the same time, she wasn’t here to deliver the best of news. She held back a sigh, still uncertain on what to say.
The silence between the two women broke as Brent descended from the upstairs bedroom. He wasn’t expecting guests, so he lazily pulled up some comfortable lounge pants over his naked form. He neglected a shirt. The residence was kept plenty warm, even amidst the cold perpetual rain that rinsed the Gilnean countryside. He yawned, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he reached the final step and turned the corner into the kitchen.
“Mm, put your tea down, sexy. Despite how hard we went at it last night, I’m still plenty ready for another round if you–”
He froze.
Was he seeing things? No, this wasn’t a hallucination. Was it a bad dream? Please, Gods, it was a bad dream! He rubbed his eyes again slowly, before blinking, as if to clear any hindrance from his vision. There was none.
“S-Syrielle?” he managed to sputter, as his brain started to catch up to what he was witnessing.
Syrielle’s worries completely washed away as Brent came into the room only partially clothed. Her ears perked up fully and her mouth hung open, the corners of her mouth pulled up in a smile. She sat back in her chair comfortably, cup of tea in her hands.
“DO go on! Don’t mind me!” she encouraged, eyes locked to Brent’s waist, “You certainly look ready to go.”
Phaith, on the other hand, looked absolutely mortified. With a gasp, her face quickly turned the same shade of red as her hair. Properly embarrassed, she brought a hand up over her eyes and turned to face the counter, away from the two.
Brent reached for the first thing he could find to drape over himself, suddenly VERY aware of how dressed-down he was! The closest thing was, unfortunately, a nearby table cloth. He didn’t care; he wrapped it around himself to cover not just his bare chest, but the slight “morning” rise poking through his pants which, for Gods only knew why, hadn’t subsided yet!
“Phaith, uh… this is Syrielle! She’s ah, erm… a friend of a friend. And we used to, uh… work together. Just work. In the military. She was an officer!”
The words just dribbled from his mouth, almost incoherently, as his brain rushed to catch up. Syrielle Starfrost was in his HOUSE!? How did she even find him? Why was she here!?
“You’re uh… a long way from Quel’Thalas, aren’t you?” he cleared his throat. “What, uh… what brings you by?”
Gods, why was he talking so much? Why was he talking like THAT? He glanced between Syrielle and Phaith nervously, ears perked upright warily!
“Ah, I’m sorry,” Phaith answered, “I should have let you know we had unexpected company.”
It took her a moment to regain her composure, fanning herself a bit because the room suddenly felt very hot. At least she hadn’t been drinking tea when he walked in. Still, she made her way over to kiss Brent on the cheek before heading up the stairs to the bedroom to find him at least a shirt to cover up with.
Syrielle was completely unbothered. Sipping her tea and waggling her eyebrows at Brent as his girlfriend disappeared up the stairs.
“You’d be surprised how easy it is to find an elf in Gilneas. People here LOVE to talk,” she said, “I didn’t have to ask around very long. Which is good. I’m not too sure how long I can stay before they notice I stepped away from my duties.” She cleared her throat, “So I see things are going well! Just curious, are you two attached to staying in Gilneas in any way?”
“Get out.”
When Phaith vanished, so too did Brent’s manners. He scowled at Syrielle, eyes narrowing dangerously. His voice became far more throaty than conversational. And the light in the sitting room seemed to dim considerably around him…
“I gave you ways to contact me. Barging into my home wasn’t one of them. Leave. Now.”
“Yeah, not like you ever barged into MY home, huh?” she shot back, seeming unbothered by his foul mood.
“That was different. I was a cultist, and I was trying to assassinate you.” Brent glowered. “This is way different now, and you know it!”
She sighed as she placed her teacup back down on its saucer, ears lowering slightly as the conversation shifted to a more serious matter.
“The regular methods of contact are risky right now. It’s very VERY important that you not return to Quel’Thalas. At least… not anytime soon. Brent, Sunwhisper’s been compromised. She was captured while crossing the Thalassian Pass and is being held and interrogated.”
Brent frowned deeper at the news, scoffing and shaking his head.
“That idiot…” he huffed. “Alright. I’ll make something up to set Phaith’s mind at ease, and meet you at the pass tonight. Show me where she’s being held, and I can get her out. I shouldn’t have let her go alone in the first place…”
Syrielle shook her head, “No. You need to stay away. The Kingdom is on high alert, especially for her old cultist friends. There’s nothing we can do for her. Not now. Don’t try to reach her or Kynlea. He’s being watched too. The good news is, she’s agreed to atone for her crimes against Quel’Thalas, which was enough to keep her head on her shoulders. As long as she continues to cooperate, I believe she and Kyn will be fine. “
She took a breath before continuing.
“What I’m worried about is, how much does Sunwhisper know about you? Does she know you live here? Understand that she IS cooperating fully. Cebina Ruavin is their main target at the moment, because she’s out causing trouble in Khaz Algar. From what I was able to find out, they know you’re alive, but they aren’t currently looking for you. Which is why I was asking… how attached are the two of you to Gilneas?”
“--Slow down, slow down!” Brent stepped closer to Syrielle, grabbing her shoulder to stop her rambling!
He huffed again, fixing the table cloth that was wrapped around him. His ears flickered, brow furrowed as he quantified as much of what Syrielle had hastily blurted out as he could. Thankfully, he was well awake by now, and managed to catch all of it.
“Kai is a fucking idiot. She’s gonna kill tens– if not hundreds– of people trying to bullheadedly escape custody. Then she’ll get killed anyway. Cebina’s always been trouble, I don’t know what she’s up to, and Kai doesn’t either. But your people aren’t going to accept that answer, right? If you’re telling me she’s been caught, I’m getting her out. Plain and simple. It’s what’s best for everyone.” he stated, firmly. “I’m not just going to turn a blind eye to it. I don’t think you expected me to, either– or you wouldn’t have come all the way here to tell me about it. You know I’m right. You want me to extract her, and you wanna help me do it. It’s in everyone’s best interest.”
“No, it isn’t!”
Syrielle’s hand came up to grab Brent's wrist. A reflex from him grabbing her shoulder. She frowned as he completely missed what she was telling him to do.
“My boss is the one holding her and I'm not risking my career to save her. I came here because I wanted to give you the chance to run before they start trying to sniff you out.”
Her other hand reached out to his shoulder squeezing it tightly to drive the point home.
“Brent, you don’t understand. If Sunwhisper escapes, then Kynlea dies.”
“Then I’ll pull him out, too.” Brent shot back, scowling. “I’m not leaving Kai again. I did that once before, and…”
He trailed off, frowning silently. He pulled his hand from Syrielle’s shoulder, and let it fall to his side as he turned his face from hers. Ears wilted; he felt more guilt about that than he’d realized, it seemed.
Ny’alotha was… chaotic. Kai’eka was devoted to the cause until the bitter end, but Brent couldn’t bring himself to stay. He left her there to defend Ny’alotha alone. And when it was all over, he was quick to put it all behind him after leaving the Cult. He even tried making amends for all the misguided harm he’d done, in his own way, hunting down remnant practitioners.
But he never made it up to Kai’eka.
His brow knit tighter, as he slowly exhaled through his nose. His eyes darted back to Syrielle, resolve only compounding as he looked at her again.
“Who’s your boss?”
“My boss is much older and much more powerful than I am and you are not to mess with him under any circumstances. He's highly intelligent, cold and calculating. Most importantly, he's the one keeping the barrier that protects Kynlea active.”
She kept her gaze level with his, her expression void of any pleasantries it had shown earlier.
“Do you understand what I'm telling you? Even if you successfully manage to extract Sunwhisper and Kynlea both, that barrier comes down and Kyn is lost to the void. Kyn doesn't want that. I don't want that. Sunwhisper doesn't want that. There is no scenario here where you can get involved without making the situation worse. The only thing you can do is keep yourself and Phaith safe.”
Her eyes looked past him now, to the Gilnean woman standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“Keep your family safe.”
Brent glowered, clearly not content with all the restrictions Syrielle was placing on him. How could she come here and tell him all this, then expect him not to do something about it? His fists clenched– but his ear flickered as he heard Phaith come down the stairs. He relaxed, sighing.
“... You really shouldn’t have come here.” he whispered softly so only Syrielle could hear.
Then he turned– and his demeanor turned with him. The deep glower vanished, brow smoothed, eyes wide and bright again as he beheld Phaith at the bottom of the stairs, holding a shirt for him.
“Thanks.” he smiled to her as he approached for the shirt. “I’ll go slip this on real quick. Syrielle can’t stay much longer, sadly. But you two feel free to keep talking while I get dressed properly, yeah?”
He gave Phaith a kiss on the cheek, before disappearing into the next room– shooting Syrielle a look before he vanished completely.
“No disappearing to go kill any high ranking government officials allowed!” Syrielle called after him.
Clearly, she didn’t hold the same reservations as he did with Phaith present. While the redhead looked a bit confused and worried, she was strangely calm, collected, and mostly, unshocked. Which indicated to the Magistrix that she knew enough about Brent's past. That was good, at least.
Phaith was no fool, and rather skilled at keeping her ears open to listen to conversations she wasn’t part of. She'd collected Brent's shirt quickly enough, but had stood at the top of the stairs to eavesdrop for some time before coming down.
Still, she acted the part and gave Brent an encouraging smile as he left the room. Before addressing Syrielle.
“This Sunwhisper woman, she's…?”
“An ex-cultist, like him. They worked closely together. Sunwhisper died defending Ny’alotha, and was raised by the Ebon Blade.”
Phaith nodded, hands folded politely in front of her, her eyes returning to where Brent had vanished.
“We aren't tied to Gilneas. I've uprooted my tailoring business a few times already. What's one more move, aye?”
“I'm sorry,” Syrielle sighed, ears wilting, “I doubt they'll come hunting for him for no reason. But if he gets involved in any way and they see him as an active threat…”
“No, I appreciate the warning. We'll be cautious, no matter what happens.”
The Magistrix relaxed at that. While she couldn't account for what Brent would do, Phaith had a good head on her shoulders. If anyone could talk him out of doing something stupid, she could. She got up from the table and began to make her way out.
“I should head back before they notice I'm missing. You two stay safe, and good luck.”
“Of course,” Phaith tore her attention away from where her partner had vanished and escorted their guest to the door, “Safe travels.”
Syrielle reached over to take the Gilnean woman's hand, slipping her a communication gem.
“In case something happens. I'll help where I can. But I can't go against Quel’Thalas.” She whispered.
Phaith nodded, quickly pocketing the gem. With that, Syrielle took a few steps away from the door, threading the arcane strands around her with her fingers before teleporting away in a puff of magic.
A few seconds following that, Brent returned, now properly shirted. He looked around for signs of Syrielle, before exhaling a relieved sigh. He smiled at Phaith, and approached her.
“Surprised to see her. We worked together for a while, but we weren’t all that close.” Brent explained. “She just came to deliver some news from Quel’Thalas. I haven’t considered it home for a long time, but I still have some ties there. I’m gonna have to go back and take care of something.”
Phaith couldn’t help but frown at his words. Still she leaned in as he approached her, sliding her hands into his and placing a quick kiss on his lips.
“That doesn't sound like a very good idea,” she admitted, “You don’t even know where to start looking for Sunwhisper, do you? Is this really what you think she wants?”
His ears wilted slightly as he looked at Phaith, lips pressing to a thin line. Another sigh.
“Your hearing is dangerously good, you know that?” he smirked slightly, making a light joke before he shook his head. “I don’t know where she is. But that’s never stopped me before. Is it what she wants? I don’t know that either. There’s a lot I don’t know… and that’s why I have to go.”
He brought Phaith’s hands up between the two of them, and gently kissed her knuckles as he went on, elaborating further. Clearly, she’d heard plenty already! But he had his side to explain.
“What I do know is that she can only be a criminal and a terrorist in their eyes. Whether she’s cooperating or not, they’re not going to let her live. Not for long. She represents everything that that ass-backwards kingdom despises; a traitor, a Death Knight, a cultist– former or not, they don’t care.” he told her, brow furrowing deeper again as he spoke more about it. “She’s always had my back, though. Even when I didn’t. I… I left her, Phaith. I left her to die there in Ny’alotha. I can’t leave her to die in Quel’Thalas, too.”
Phaith nodded, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his.
“I love you, Brent. Whatever you decide to do, I'll support and stand by you. I know you'll be careful, just don't do anything rash, alright?” She placed a kiss on his forehead, before moving back and looking over the home they'd created. It wasn’t the manor she'd grown up in, but she was proud of what they’d built.
“There's a small town near the sea, not far from the dark portal, called Surwich. It was built by Gilneans that survived a ship wreck. Do you want me to start looking? –ah, it might not be a good place to raise kids, though. The woods there are dangerous.”
She sighed, returning her gaze back to him. It was obvious, she was doing her best to stay calm, but stress was evident in her face, “Can you think of a place? Just in case?”
“We won’t have to go anywhere, Phaith.” Brent assured her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. “It’d be a lot safer here– for all of us– than to run off to hide somewhere so derelict as Surwich. The Armistice notwithstanding, it’s better for us here close to a proper city. Quel’Thalas isn’t looking for me. And even if they do decide I’m worth dredging up, they’ll have an impossible time doing so. Even after this.”
He pulled Phaith into an embrace, holding her close as he gently rubbed her back. He hated to see her worry– another reason he felt rather cross at Syrielle for coming by unannounced and dropping this in his lap. She meant well, he knew. But the last thing he wanted was for Phaith to have any reason to panic about things. They’d both had enough of that through their lives.
“... I’ll think of a place though, just in case.” he added, reassuringly. “I’ve got some contacts I can reach out to. New names, identities, whatever we may need. I really don’t think it’ll get to that point, but I’ll prime them just in case. Alright?”
“Alright,” Phaith nodded, leaning into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug and resting her face between his neck and shoulder, “I trust you. Just remember, there might be more than just the two of us soon, hm?” She couldn’t help but smile a bit at the possibility.
Brent smiled too, pulling back from the hug to look at Phaith’s face. He chuckled a bit, giving her hips a playful squeeze as he pressed his forehead to hers.
“Very soon. Be ready when I get back– we’ll get right back to it, I promise.”
She nodded, already eager for his return, but worry still evident on her features.
“How long? You need to give me a timeline or I'll worry the whole time you're away, and neither one of us wants that, aye?”
“Four days, tops. I’ll contact you somehow if it’ll take more than that. But operations like these happen quickly. The real time sink at the beginning will be gathering information and planning things. But that’s also the lowest risk time, so if I think it’ll take longer I can still reach out easily”
Another nod, before she pressed her lips to his. A deeper, more passionate embrace this time pressing her body against his. She wanted to make certain her touch would linger long after he left.
Brent pulled Phaith in close, returning the passion of the deep kiss. It was over too soon, as he pulled away to get ready for the impromptu operation to save Kai’eka. His hand lingered in hers as he stepped back, not wanting to let go. But after a reassuring nod, he pulled it away and went upstairs.
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.
There is an AU where Syrielle ( @syrielle ) turned herself over to the Void under the influence of the Old Gods. A couple of good friends suggested I draw this version of her, so here she is. This is only a thumbnail preview. The full, NSFW version can be found on my Patreon. I decided to turn it into a pinup opportunity <3
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"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.
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
The manor basement had drastically changed over the years. Every trace of Dr. Tannis Starfrost’s grisly laboratory was gone. All evidence of his research was either destroyed or locked away. Syrielle had decided to renovate the entire area, turning it into her own personal arcane sanctum. Her father had already put the security in place, protecting the area from outside eyes, ears, and interference of any kind. It made for the ideal location for Syrielle to study, to learn new spells, and most importantly, to practice and sharpen her skills. It was also the ideal location whenever she had work to do for the Magistry, specifically projects of a sensitive nature that would have to remain secret.
It was with all these security measures in place that she sat there, studying and notarizing every coordinate, every action, and every interaction from the ruby in Rositsa Li-Mei’s necklace. Specific dates, locations, names and events all listed in chronological order. The ex-Farstrider had been truthful in her statement that she’d never taken it off. Her sentimental feeling towards the object would ultimately be the key in proving her innocence. Despite her desertion following the Fourth War, Rosie’s travels were free of any suspicious activity.
Except for one encounter in Valdrakken….
Syrielle lightly drummed the desk in front of her with her pen as she stared at the projection of a familiar Ren’dorei.
The image of Brent Sunborn brought his hands up slowly, palms out. He wasn’t looking for a fight, "... You here to kill me? Don't think the lizards care for faction violence in their nice little city, here."
"No,” came Rosie’s reply, “I'm not here to kill you and I've no interest in doing so if it can be avoided at all. Not to mention, I don't have a reason to try and end you that I can currently think of."
“Must have a shitty memory, then.”
"Perhaps or maybe it's because I've decided to let sleeping dogs lie."
Brent peered at Rositsa, scrutinizing. "... Hm. Maybe my luck's turning around, then." he lowers his hands, “You look good.”
It started off not too damning. The encounter had been accidental, not sought out. However, things got troubling as the conversation progressed.
“Besides, things wouldn't have worked out back then or likely so at least. I had a collar around my neck that I've since shaken and have no intentions of returning to if it can be helped."
“What do you mean? Did you... defect? Heh, well, THAT is surprising! What happened back home that made you throw down your colors?”
"Why should I heel to the military when there's no need to?” Rosie’s voice sounded clear as day, “The Guard, Brent, as we both once knew them, is dead. They were disbanded long ago and with that I vanished without so much as a word of warning to almost everyone from back then save for one or two. If you're worried that I'm still part of the Farstriders, I'm not. I went missing and am likely marked as a runaway or presumed dead."
“Hm. Join the club. I defected from the Farstriders TWICE now. You remember the second time, I think. Nice to find more common ground between us, I suppose.”
Syrielle winced as the conversation continued and the two moved closer together.
"Besides, that's what's best, yeah? Once naught but a ghost in the wind, always one."
“Rosi... I don't want you as a ghost. Be present, alright? It is a fresh start for us both. A chance to be friends. We've always been drawn together, but there were always barriers between us. Between duties and beliefs... but not anymore. So if you're willing to see what that kinship between us could look like-- without any subtext-- I'm willing, too.”
"I'll be present and being friends again would be nice, I'll admit, and I'm more than willing to do that, besides, that's how friendships go, isn't it? Although aye, you're right, there always have been barriers of one kind or another but those are gone now. I won't be shackled again by the military nor the Farstriders. If I work with anyone else it will be because I want to."
Brent nodded once. "Good. I'm glad things worked out this way. It is, genuinely, good to see you again. And it'll be nice to work with you again, without the underlying inevitable betrayal tainting it, yeah?"
“Any of the past betrayals and the taints hold no relevance here, at least now."
“I aim to keep it that way.”
Syrielle paused the image as the two finally separated and went their own way. She brought her hands up to her temples to try and alleviate a growing headache. The young Magistrix had already seen the rest of what the stone had to offer. This was Rositsa’s one and only interaction with Sunborn from her desertion until her encounter with Magister Everblaze. While she hadn’t given him any information and hadn’t acted in a traitorous manner, her obvious affections towards Brent would be seen as a very large security concern. While it wouldn’t be enough to damn her life, it would most certainly prevent her from ever being reinstated into any military branch, including the Farstriders.
“What a mess…”
She got up from her chair and began to pace. Ruthar was counting on her to reveal the whole truth from the ruby, no matter the outcome. Duty dictated that she report her findings in full for a proper and fair trial. Brent Sunborn was a traitor of Quel’Thalas, one of the cultists responsible for the destruction of Suncrown Village. He fought against and injured multiple members of the Phoenix Guard. He’d even abducted and tried to kill Syrielle herself. The Magistrix looked down at her hands, the deep scars in the center of her palms a constant reminder of the terror, pain, and suffering she’d been subjected to because of him. Time and peace between the factions didn’t absolve him of those crimes. They never would…
And yet…
((Syrielle tried to bring her hands up to block the blow. One arm was held down and the other came up much too slow as Alteris brought the jagged piece of glass down. But rather than the sharp pain she anticipated, she felt Alteris pull away from her entirely! She sat up quickly, and saw why. Another elf had come up behind Alteris and pulled him back off of her! The two grappled a moment, before Alteris was thrown - behind the counter, into a large cabinet of fine porcelain dinnerware. Plates, bowls, teacups and shelves all shattered, coming crashing down atop the would-be assassin!
Alteris brought his legs back up beneath him quickly, seeming stunned! He narrowed his gaze at the other Ren’dorei, seeming just as shocked as Syrielle to see him here! It didn’t last long. The elf lunged for Alteris, slamming him back into the shattered cabinet with one hand, and stabbing him without a moment’s hesitation with the other. Alteris let out half a gasp, unable to breathe for the moment… before his body disappeared in a plume of shadow. It was over… Alteris was gone.
The Cryomancer recognized Brent Sunborn as he turned his deadly gaze towards her. Dark leathers, long dark blue hair… familiar blacksteel daggers and a plated face mask… This was the first she’d seen him in his Ren’dorei form, much more threatening than his Sin’dorei one had been. Panic set in and her mind went blank. Pupils dilated and her pulse increased as adrenaline flooded her system. She scrambled off the counter, but let out a pained cry as her bare feet landed in the mess of whiskey and glass shards that covered the floor. Pain shot up her legs as the shards implanted deeply. She slipped as she tried to move forward, landing hard on her hip. Tear filled eyes looked up as the threatening figure brought a knee down in front of her. She couldn’t find her voice to scream or cast a spell, so frozen by fear she was at the sight of him.
“Relax.” he said, tone curt - irritated. “I’m not here for you.”
His ebon-steel dagger slipped silently back into its sheath at his hip, reinforcing his claim. With a bit of a light scoff, Brent took hold of Syrielle’s foot and began to pluck shards of glass from it. His gaze parted from hers, instead intent on the task at hand. He would’ve preferred not having to deal with her at all; collateral was always so messy. But at the same time, he couldn’t let Alteris kill her. Despite having delivered her into such dangers before… things had changed.
Nepen’thea had still cared for this one, after all.
So instead of silencing another witness, the Ghostblade set to helping her out. At least, enough so she wouldn’t bleed out all over the floor in her pathetic panicked state. The larger chunks were removed easily enough, and the smaller ones hadn’t set in too deep. He ripped at the hem of her nightie to retrieve a length suitable enough for a bandage - so paralyzed in fear, she did little to oppose him. Fear… or perhaps confusion, at this point. He didn’t seem concerned either way.
“He’s not dead yet.” he informed her - because revealing that the elf who had just tried to kill her was still out there seemed like a smart thing to say to the fear-struck cryromancer. “But he’s far from here. Trapped. He’ll be dead soon enough.”))
Syrielle and Gattius had kept the encounter to themselves. And while they both agreed that saving her life didn’t alleviate him of his crimes, Brent Sunborn’s presence in Quel'Thalas that night was never reported to the authorities. As far as Gattius knew, that had been the end of it. However, the encounters with Brent Sunborn continued for the Magistrix. Despite their differences, they both mourned the death of Nepen’thea Dusksinger. Her demise had been enough to shake Brent free of the cult’s influence, and had left Syrielle spiralling for answers. Together, they were able to grieve and form an uneasy friendship.
((“I know Thea wasn’t exactly as you thought she was. And that… can sour memories.” Brent sighed - feeling that notion especially strong in the moment. “But there was no deceit about her love for you. What you meant to her. Giving you this place is her way of telling you that from beyond the grave. It’s yours, Syrielle.”
She paused, looking over her shoulder at him as he used her actual name for the first time. “I… have no memories of Thea here, but you do. And you have as much a right to those happy memories as I do. My time with her was in Dalaran, yours was here. Knowing Thea, she’d want us both to be happy, yeah?”))
Syrielle reviewed the detailed log she’d written up for Magister Everblaze and Ranger Captain Ronaestrider, Rositsa’s encounter with Brent well omitted from the official document. She picked the necklace up gently with her hand, concentrating on the ruby and the information it contained.
((He picked up the key Syrielle had casually left on the table, smiling, “This… wouldn’t be you condoning a filthy void elf taking up residence in your city, would it?
“Bah! People lose keys all the time, yeah?” She grinned, “Can’t exactly control who picks it up.” She gave him a playful wink before making her way towards the door, pausing once more before opening it. “Take care, Brent.”))
Her years of working in the Magistry taught her a lot. It gave her access to knowledge and allowed her to dive into new schools of magic, it helped her grow in renown and power, securing her position on the political scene. But most of all, it taught her how to lie and how to cover her tracks. As a battlemage in the Phoenix Guard, Syrielle would have never considered falsifying a report, would have never tampered with evidence, she would never have lied to her superiors, to her friends… to her own husband! But as a Magister… one had to bend the rules from time to time. While the laws of Quel’Thalas served their purpose for the general populace, being bound by them didn’t serve a young Magistrix very well. Syrielle discovered early on that doing what was good did not always commensurate with being a law abiding citizen. The key was to be smart and calculating enough as to not be caught doing anything illegal.
As she concentrated on the ruby, a bronze mist encapsulated the necklace, altering the information within, slowly erasing all evidence of Rositsa’s interaction with Brent Sunborn in Valdrakken. While she doubted anyone would notice the missing 30 minutes of data, the Magistrix thought best to play it safe by replacing the missing time by elongating a few periods of sleep. She then altered the timestamps, offering a smooth transition from Rositsa’s arrival in Valdrakken, straight to her innocently buying provisions for her travels from the merchants. This way, if anyone doubted Syrielle’s report, a second party scrying the ruby would not find any damning evidence.
Sweat dripped down from her forehead as the mist dissipated and the alteration was completed. The work left Syrielle exhausted, especially after spending the week combining the arcane and chronomancy to scry through the many years of data. She had just enough energy for one last thing, however; an arcane spell to suppress the tampered energy of the item. It just wouldn’t do for her to get caught tampering with evidence after all that effort.
She reviewed her work carefully. Not a trace of what she’d done could be seen or detected.
Perfect.
Rositsa Li-Mei would be proven innocent, an outcome not only wanted by her, but one that Ruthar and Gattius hoped for as well. Brent Sunborn’s name would not appear at the trial, and he could continue to live his life in peace. Most importantly, Syrielle’s own interactions with Brent would never come to light.
Really, it was the best case scenario for everyone involved.
Since this guy has started popping up in RP, I figured it was time for some updated art. Meet Tannis, son of Gattius and Syrielle Starfrost, and future Farstrider of Quel'Thalas! <3
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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.”
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."
Sorry about the near genocide of your people. I really needed that fountain. I may have gone a tad overboard. That one elf really turned out to be a bite in everyone's ass. Oops! My bad. Glad your people recovered well.
Silvermoon City is the capital of the blood elves, located in the northeastern part of the Eversong Woods within the kingdom of Quel’Thalas, at the northernmost tip of the Eastern Kingdoms. The breathtaking capital city of the blood elves may rival the dwarven capital of Ironforge as the world’s oldest, still standing, capital.
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