#day102020

Day 10 - Harvest Festival @daily-writing-challenge​

Today was the day:  The Annual Amberlight Orgrimmar Excursion! It was a recent addition to their yearly rituals, having only started last year, but it was already a favorite for the duo. A day where Brewfest and the Harvest Festival just happened to overlap, so the area just outside the gates of the large city was always lively and full of good cheer.

The majority of the day had been spent indulging themselves at Brewfest with a variety of beer, pretzels, and sausages, combined with plenty of laughing, dancing, and newly made friends. Sure, it was the middle of the afternoon, but that was the best part of Brewfest; drinking and getting drunk was acceptable during any time of the day!  Not that Kara was one for heavy drinking, but she enjoyed the many foods and activities the festival had to offer, especially the oom-pah music.

After Dice collected growlers of his favorites, the duo made their way over to the Harvest Fest tables.  Harvest nectar and bread were an absolute must despite how stuffed they were, it was a nice way to end an exhaustingly fun day. This holiday was about honoring and remembering fallen heroes and ancestors; not a sad occasion, but a celebration of their lives.

“What do you miss most about mom and dad?”  Kara’s voice was a bit timid although she smiled, this was always a sensitive subject to broach.  Since they were already in good enough spirits, maybe this didn’t have to be a somber conversation.

Dicenne picked up on her cues, returning the smile as he swirled around his mug of nectar.  “That’s like asking me which weapon I’ve made is my favorite you know.”  He leans over to bump his arm against hers, causing her grin to widen.  “Well, one of the many things, since we’re here at Brewfest, you remember how dad would always wear that..stupid, ridiculous outfit? The ones they sell over there, leder...hose..something like that?”

“And that ugly hat with the big feather?  How could I forget??  I think him dancing in all that atop the table is permanently burned into my vision.”

The two chuckled openly, it was a good memory.  “And mom wore that matching dress that was so low-cut that she had a good two-thirds of the vendors constantly ogling her?  She got so much free stuff.”

“SO MUCH!”  Kara emphasized with a flail of her arms. “...Hmmm.....Hey…”

“No.”

“Maybe we should--”

“Noooooo.”  He was already laughing through his responses, knowing exactly where she was going with this.

“But Dice...the FREE stuff!” She bats her eyelashes.

“Noooope.”  His resolve was weakening.  It was hard to say no to Kara.

Now tugging on his sleeve, she brings out the doe eyes, “But can you imagine?  With you in tight shorts and me in a form-fitting dress, we could get so much free beer!  And pretzels!”  She pat-pat-patted his shoulder with both hands repeatedly while bouncing in place, “And maybe sausages tooOOOoo!”

He sighed heavily, and she knew exactly what that meant.  She got her way. Next year the Annual Amberlight Orgrimmar Excursion would also include full Brewfest regalia, ugly hat and all.

Tinnaire brushed aside the last of the forest detritus and smiled where she squatted. The bones were clean; she’d been waiting to collect them, once the forest was done with the rest. A lynx skull, a femur, a few lumbar vertebrae, and a run of coccygeal bones. Not precisely white, but cleaner than when she’d marked them on her little treasure map.

Eversong, for all it had been through the last few decades, was still an ecology she tried not to disturb until nature had gotten its due. Death had sown here. But not always in the Scar variety.

Day 10 - Reap

Part One:

As the sun begins to rise once more, the young man squints at the horizon with disappointment. Time once again ran too fast for him in his work. 

Curving his detailed brush between his fingers, he used the palm to rub at each of his tired eyes. He had been devoting so much time into advanced runework this day and night, he could barely see straight anymore. However, this is what Talthorn did. He dedicated the time to receive his ultimate results. 

Looking back to his work of art he was inscribing on his hand, he smiles slowly over the intricate details. This was going to help him understand so much more! Limited with the degree of arcane he was able to wield safely, the magi had determined it was time to take some additional steps to help him amplify his own abilities and transcend more into his utilization of powerful, ancient magics. 

A shake of some dust, as if to put a bookmark in his work, Talthorn lets the inactive rune rest for a short time before slipping on his glove with pride. This was an accumulation of years in the making until it reached this stage! All the research, study, extra classes, private learning, applied application. He was ready to reap all he could from these efforts!

-

A soft snore breaks out on the magi's desk while his enchanting class is continuing. Talthorn was sitting in the back today and in a feeble attempt at propping up a book to disguise his napping. One of his classmates tries to prod him awake and he shoots up in a start and a shout. "Crystal, shard, essence, dust!" he speaks as if answering a question. 

There is a ripple of laughter and Talthorn blinks back the fog. Where was he? He peels off the parchment stuck to his face. He really needed to get some sleep. After the instructor dismisses them, he decides that it was time for some rest. All these nights of his personal pursuits were murder on his regular studies.

Walking drowsily through the halls, he stops a moment when there is a flash of light in the portal conjuring hall. The cluster of fearful students comes rushing out of the room making Talthorn more curious than scared. There seemed to be higher winds now coming from the area too! What was going on!

The young man moves forward, while others run away from crisis and he peers into the room. His eyes widen at the situation here! There was a very frightened student wrestling with the failed attempt at opening a portal. The instructor was knocked out from across the classroom.

"That's what you get when you let the lower classes trying high level spells."

"Your arm would be as swallowed up if YOU did the spell incorrectly!" Talthorn snarks at the entitled noble. "Do something! You're part of the superior class!"

"What are we supposed to do! They are the one that did it wrong!"

"You HELP them!" he spits back with his obvious statement, his mind already racing. Was no one going to help her? His eyes dance at the glimmering portal to nowhere he had ever seen before. His heart thuds against his chest in excitement.

"Are you insane?! She's torn the fabric far beyond to who knows where!"

Slamming his back into the door, he flips out his tools for his runework. Ripping off his glove he grumbles and one dip is all he gets left of the ink before it also flies away. His steady hands paint on the additional details on the outsides that he was going to work on slowly tonight! There was no time now. 

After the precise paint is fully applied, he weaves another spell in his hand to slam into the circle sending a surge through his body! He just needed to stabilize it! Bolting out his shelter, he rushes toward the scared woman screaming for help. Words of activation have his rune flare while and his eyes focus on the twisting wild magics that were unintentionally being used here. He draws in more power than he had ever felt before, weaving in ways that he only thought of until now! 

"It's okay!" he yells at her. "I'm here to help you! Don't panic!" he appears behind and gets his look at this portal of mystery. Where was this? How was this accomplished? Trying to focus he takes up her hand. "Finish the spell with me!" 

The young woman was so frightened but did all she could to remember what to do. Talthorn follows with her, using his own weaves with her own and in doing all they could to stop the portal from violently reacting! Fluid motions and practiced words, he could almost taste the victory. In the last moments, he was able to guide most of her arm out before it is prematurely closed up from somewhere else!

There is a flicker of scream, before the aftershocks deafened the room. Talthorn turns to see the cavalry crew of instructors come barrelling through. He saw the rather discerting expressions and then accusing glares as they see the swirling white rune in full activation. 

Looking down he saw the young woman in shock for she had just lost part of her arm. There was going to be so much explaining to do, and all Talthorn wanted to do was help. He had helped save a life, felt the thrill of stabilizing a turbulent rip in space that made him feel like a GOD but what would that matter to the people in charge here?

Exposure of all his work came in a much different situation than he ever wished. These were not the sort of rewards he was expecting....

@daily-writing-challenge​

Daily Writing Challenge Prompt: Bitter + Companion / Cycle + Poison / Reap Day 8 2020 + Day 9 2020 + Day 10 2020 Thirteen years ago, upon the shores of Northrend.

“They look like High Elves... What are they doing here?” “Prince Arthas. We are the blood elves! We have sworn to avenge the ghosts of Quel’Thalas. This dead land will be cleansed.” “Northrend belongs to the Scourge, elf. You made a terrible mistake by coming here. Slay them!”

Sentences that rung within Aidan’s mind as the Lich King’s hold slipped on Arthas. Avenge the ghosts of Quel’Thalas. Cleanse this dead land. Good ideas, but they would find no fortune in following through on them, realized the Knight as he watched a group of Nerubians rise from the frozen wastes, erupting from the ice like water from a waterfall.  “For Ner’zhul!” Came the cacophonous war cry, before the Scourge washed over the Sin’dorei like a tidal wave of death. Now, standing on a pile of Elven corpses, Aidan Dawningblade looked around with a bitter smile. The frozen winds of Northrend were the only companion he would carry, now. He had sealed his fate. Damnation was all that awaited him.

The last time Aidan had resided on the frozen shores of Northrend, it had been during Arthas’ quest for Frostmourne. Where Muradin Bronzebeard was slaughtered, alongside dozens of his own men. Where they butchered mercenaries they had hired. “Nobody goes home ‘til our job here is done.” Those words were still loud and clear within Aidan’s mind, for his job would never be done. The ‘Bane of Life’ was trapped in that poisonous cycle, every plated footstep carrying him closer to the blissful embrace of his true death, which would contain bliss until it didn’t. 

A week later

Aidan stood watching as Arthas and Illidan dueled, their battle a sweeping, graceful dance.

Illidan Stormrage, The Betrayer. Demon Hunter.

Illidari

Arthas Menethil, The Crown Prince. Champion of the Scourge.

Lich King