(( DWC june 2026, Day 3, Shock/Reflect, @daily-writing-challenge CW: none ))
Gentle incense filled the air as Dolraan knelt on the floor of his chambers, his well worn prayer mat beneath him as he meditated.
"Windrunner's power has only grown stronger in this place. You can feel it, can't you? The darkness in her heart…"
The words War Chaplain Senn had uttered when she and the other leaders of the Army of Light had turned against them in the Voidspire. She, along with Bellamy and Lightblood, had gone too far. But had they been wrong?
Xal'atath had wanted them there. Wanted Alleria there, to get the dark naaru she had bound inside her. Had the Light tried to stop it from happening? Or was it just a coincidence?
They'd been wrong about the void corrupting everyone else. They were even wrong about Alleria's intentions. It was her ability to contain L'ura they'd misjudged, to disastrous result.
He'd felt the same rage in his heart in that moment where the Vanguard turned on them. Only his dedication to his oath, to his friends, had let him retain his mind. But doubt remained. If they had won, if they'd stopped Alleria from ascending the tower, would things be different?
"Light, I pray that your wisdom will become more apparent in the days to come. I pray that we will discover the truth behind Xal'atath's machinations and stop them. And I pray that I will not have to slay any more friends, particularly those infused with your might."
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(( DWC February 2024 Day 1, Casualty/Flirt, CW: None, thanks to @heniimagic for the OC loan, @daily-writing-challenge ))
Lorellai's smile fell as the Human turned away from her, her shoulder slumping as she wandered back to the table she was sharing with Henii. "Och, that's three times now I've been turned down. What kind of festival dedicated to love is this that I cannae even get someone to share a drink with me? What should I say, how should I act, what should I do?"
"I think the problem might be in your approach dear… oh, perhaps I can show you. Ghorren!" Henii called out, getting the attention of the big Zandalari at the bar. "Could you come join us, I need your help."
Ghorren shrugged and walked over, taking a seat. "Sounds simple enough. What do you need?"
"Lorellai needs an example of how to flirt," Henii said, adjusting herself in her chair and then looking at Lorellai. "Now, the first words out of your mouth are the most important. You may want to start with something like this." Turning to Ghorren, she leaned in slightly. "You are the most handsome Troll I've ever laid eyes on."
Ghorren glanced at Lorellai out of the side of his eye, then back to Henii, saying nothing.
Henii chuckled. "But that might not work."
Ghorren leaned in. "Oh, yes it would, in fact."
Henii turned her focus back to him. "You don't know how long I've wanted to tell you that."
"But you were afraid," he replied.
"Yes."
"Of me?"
"Of us. Of what we might become. Or that you might think it was just a line."
"Maybe I do think that."
"So you think I'm insincere."
"I didn't say that. There's nothing wrong with a line. It's like a knock at the door."
"Then are you inviting me in?"
"I'm not sending you away."
"That's more than I expected."
"Is it as much as you hoped?"
Henii leaned in closer. "To hope is to recognize the possibility. I had only dreams."
"Dreams can be dangerous," he cautioned, his face cradled in his hands as he held his gaze locked with hers.
"Not these dreams. I dream of a night sky where your eyes are the stars, and all the peoples of Azeroth worship the night."
Ghorren closed the gap between them even more, a laugh in his voice. "Careful, putting me on a pedestal so high, you might not be able to reach me."
"Then I'll learn to fly. You are the heart of my day, and the soul of my night."
Lorellai cleared her throat. "Um, I'm not sure this is really meh style…"
Ghorren broke his gaze with Henii quickly to glare at the girl, snapping at her to "Hush kid," before turning his attentions back to the Draenei across from him. "Tell me more about my eyes."
Lorellai rolled her eyes and walked away from the table, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks and leaving them to whatever that was.
(Thanks and apologies to the cast and crew of the classic TNG episode "The Dauphin")
(( DWC may 2026, Day 1, Gloom/Allure, @daily-writing-challenge CW: none ))
Dolraan smiled as he closed the infirmary door behind him, leaving a recovering Alynore in the care of her husband. Wes had been beside himself with worry, but with the destruction of the dark naaru and purification of the sunwell, she and the others who had suffered in the wake of Xal'atath's assault were healing well. As he exited, he spotted Janosis, Spiru, and Lorellai, his team, waiting for him.
"Janosis has a question!" Lorellai blurted out as he greeted them, causing the human to groan.
"I thought we agreed -we- had a question, Lorellai," Janosis sighed.
Spiru's gaze bored into Dolraan's. "We have had to face paladins and priests overcome with zealousness and rage. You have remained sane, but there has been a strain on you that in hindsight has seemed abnormal."
"We just want to be able to help you!" Lorellai chimed in, all three of them looking at him with various levels of concern.
Dolraan couldn't help but smile. "Well, isn't it good that I was just coming to talk to you three about it then? Let's grab a bench out in the grounds so we're not taking up the hallway.
A short time later, the four sat on a bench in a lovely park. The sky was clear for the first time in weeks, much to the delight of the locals. Dolraan cleared his throat. "Alright. So, you know that I, and my fellow paladins draw our power from the Holy Light. What's harder to explain is how the light feels to us. It's a bit different from person to person."
Dolraan looked up, letting the sunlight caress his face. "For me, it's always been like a lantern. Warm, welcoming, guiding. It has helped me find my way to where I need to be, and reminded me of what I need to do. Ever since we were summoned though.... it was more like fire. Powerful. Purposeful. Dangerous. And I wanted to feel it."
Spiru blinked. "That is concerning."
Dolraan nodded. "The allure of it was one of purpose, of Knowing with a capital K. 'There is the enemy' it felt like, 'you need but destroy them to save the world.' And it only got stronger as we pushed further into the Voidspire. It offered answers to all the questions and doubts in my heart. But.... what happened with the army of light? I felt the pull when they turned on us. The Light was burning in my soul. To stop Alleria. I think I know now what Lothraxion went through before we had to kill him."
"That's scary... how did you resist?" Lorellai asked.
"My oath. Most paladins swear one when we are knighted, and it becomes our purpose, and in Stormwind we were encouraged to write our own." Dolraan stood up, and when he spoke next, his voice resonated.
"I swear to devote my life to protecting the innocent from the cruel; the weak from the strong, and the righteous from the wicked. I shall show Respect in diplomacy, Tenacity in battle, and Compassion in victory. If I fall, it will be only when I have done all I could do."
Dolraan blinked then smiled at his friends. "And if I'd listened to what the Light was roaring in my ear then, I wouldn't have upheld that oath. It helped ground me, much like I think Turalyon's love for his family grounded him, kept him from losing himself up there, for all the good it did us."
"So, is the Light not the benevolent force we believed, then?" Janosis mused.
"The fire and rage is gone, all the survivors have felt it just as I did. It's like it was before all this happened. I think... I think we saw the harsh side of the Light, like we did back during the Legion War when X'era overstepped herself and tried to forcibly lightforge Illidan Stormrage. As we have seen over the last few years, none of the great powers are simply understood. I'd not expect the Light to be any different."
"Thank you for your explanation, and I hope the Light does not attempt to subvert you again. I would hate to have to attempt to subdue you, both because of our friendship, and because I suspect it would take many of us to do so," Spiru said, cracking a smile. "You have a remarkably hard head."
Dolraan barked out laughing. "It's served me well so far. Don't worry, I'm just a year out from getting my 'Ten years without being mind controlled' badge, and I'm not going to let that slip through my fingers!"
Lorellai blinked. "You were mind controlled nine years ago?"
Dolraan grinned. "Let's hit up one of Silvermoon's pubs and I'll tell you all about it. I was on a mission with Henii and Rastila investigating a demonic incursion...."
(( DWC june 2026, Day 4, inadequate/bond, @daily-writing-challenge CW: none ))
Lorellai kept her head low as she moved through the brush, keeping as much cover between her and the ethereal camp as she could. They'd appeared suddenly, and minutes later had assembled a camp that would need to be dealt with, and that meant getting as much information on them as possible for the strike teams coming out of Amani'zar. She had her goggles down, tagging as many important structures and potential weak points as she could, when suddenly her vision shifted, and a flash of her back from a medium distance behind and above, where an Ethereal was creeping up on her, knives out.
She spun, and parried the strike with her sword as her blessed owl Nylas swooped down, sinking glowing talons into the wrappings of the ethereal's back. Lorellai drew her knife in her offhand, and lashed out, sinking it into the energies that made up the alien being, staggering it back far enough to bring her longblade to bear, cutting it down, leaving only smoldering wrappings in place. She turned her gaze quickly to the camp, and breathed a sigh of relief. No sign they'd noticed the scuffle, but she'd need to get clear soon and connect with the strike team. She reached down and ruffled Nylas' head feathers, getting an approving soft hoot from the magical creature. Someday she'd need to see him back to his mistress, but for now, her bond with him was more than welcome.
(( DWC june 2026, Day 6, Anguish/Heat, @daily-writing-challenge CW: none ))
Many years ago
Ghorren grunted as he deposited the heavy wooden chest inside the door to his family home, the contents inside jingling. A mighty haul indeed, enough gold to have made a trip twice as long worthwhile, and more than enough to buy him some extra time at home with his family. He wiped away the sweat soaking his brow, marveling at how much the temperature had changed as he'd made his way up from the docks into the upper districts. The Zuldazar heat sure hit different.
"Yizbei! Your triumphant husband returns!" he bellowed into the house, closing the door behind him and lifting the chest again, carrying it further in to his workbench so they could sort through it.
"PAPA!" yelled a tiny teal blur that slammed into him, clutching onto his leg in a deathgrip. It was followed by a second assault from behind, latching onto his back and climbing up to wrap arms around his neck with a happy "Father!".
Ghorren wobbled, then fell face first onto the nearby couch, playing up his surprise. "Augh! To get home to my family, only to fall to treachery from within! I am unmade!" he moaned, trying not to smile too big at Anwé's giggling in his ear. "Tell me this at least, where is my beautiful wife?"
"Mama's in the restaurant today, Oma wasn't feeling well. What did you bring me?" Anwé answered, sliding off his back and grinning into his eyes as her little sister climbed up to the small of his back.
"Oof, I brought you all many wonderful things my daughter, but first..." he said, surging up and pulling his youngest into his arms, then lashing out and catching the elder sister with his other hand, hauling them both into a big hug. "First you need a lesson in not dropping your guard!" he declared, before planting big wet kisses on both of them, while they tried in vain to push him away.
Ghorren opened the chest that the beasts of the dungeon had been guarding, nodding at the treasures within. He grabbed the relic Vareesa had been looking for, tossed it to her, then closed the chest and picked the whole thing up. Much had changed in his life, but the joy of bringing home a chest full of treasure would never fade.
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(( DWC February 2026, Day 7, Murder/Ardor, @daily-writing-challenge CW: violence, killing, dismemberment, mild sexual themes ))
"...and thus, it is our duty, our calling, our creed! To bring low the servants of orthodoxy! To snuff the searing Light! And to pave the way for our mistress' arrival, that we might be reborn in the Void after this corrupt world meets its end! Praise be her name!" Normantis the Wicked, Prior of the Twilight's Blade and loyal servant of the Harbinger, threw his arms up in the air as the congregation cheered, praising Xal'atath, caught up in the fury of his sermon. "Now go, my children, and carry out your duties with passion worthy of her notice."
The cultists lifted their hoods and filed out, leaving only one remaining, who approached him and knelt before the altar. "Master Normantis," she purred, "your will has once again been done."
Normantis grinned cruelly. "Show me, my loyal Vyoshin."
The elf rose, pulling back her hood. Dark hair in a tight ponytail framing a healthy looking face, but the violet glow of her eyes betrayed the void's influence on her. She drew forth a pack, and laid out a quartet of ears on the altar, several with parts of the scalp attached, all stained and bloody. "Thus to all enemies of the Harbinger... and of you, mighty Prior," she declared, bowing deeply.
The prior sneered with delight. The past few months had given him more than he could have dreamed. Norman the fence from the old town of Stormwind was dead, and now Normantis ruled over the Harbinger's cult, and had his own personal killer at his beck and call.
But perhaps she could be even more than that. He'd seen how she looked at him with awe and admiration, which he of course deserved. "Rise, my dear. Your service to me brings me great joy. Only one thing could bring me more pleasure than this service," he intoned, casually lifting and examining the ears. Take that, Harold, now I owe you nothing, he thought as he thumbed the recognizable notch the loan shark had lost to a near miss with a blade.
"Your pleasure is my desire, master." Vyoshin purred, as she rose. "After such an... intense sermon, I am certain you are tense, yes? Perhaps I could help relieve you with... massage," she offered, sauntering up to him with swaying hips, gently laying a hand on his.
Yes, Normantis had everything Norman never could. "Let us retire to my chambers, I am indeed carrying a heavy burden, and you can certainly serve me, and our mistress, by relieving it."
Minutes later, he lay face down on the fine bed he'd appropriated when his cult had conquered this roadside inn near the road to Stranglethorn. He could feel Vyoshin's fine elven fingers digging into his back, melting away the knots that had formed. A gentle moan escaped his lips as she ministered to him, her naked thighs warm against his back.
"So much tension, master, but nothing I cannot take away from you. But I do not wish to keep you from your duties and plans by taking too long..."
"Not at all my dear" he muttered into the pillow, before lazily raising his head to speak clearly. "My plans necessitate a day's wait before we move on the town a the crossroad. You may minister to me as fully as you can to ensure my readiness. All has been prepared."
"I am glad to hear that. You do love to write everything down."
Had Normantis retained any amount of Norman's paranoia, he might have wondered at that statement. But her fingers felt so good, and she'd killed so many of his former accomplices for him, and soon he would know every inch of her, so Normantis didn't notice her shift. And he certainly didn't notice the blade that appeared in her hand until he felt it against his neck. And well, then it was far too late to do anything.
Vyoshin rose, dismissing the shadowblade as her victim gurgled and gasped, staining the pillows and sheets with bright crimson blood from the open hole in his neck and arteries. She crossed the room in her smalls, and using the key she'd taken from his robes while removing them from him, opened the tricky little lockbox he kept his journal in. She opened it and flipped through, channeling void energies into the pages to disrupt the magical cipher, and nodded. Force allotments, planned movements, and names aplenty, both of the active cultists, and their hidden supporters in the various towns and boroughs of Stormwind's territories. She lifted a finger to her ear, and triggered the communicator.
"Violet Fox reporting, I have acquired the script. You are clear to reset the stage," she uttered, turning and gathering up her discarded robe, tossing it on. It would suffice on the off chance she was noticed as she made her way to the rendezvous point.
"Copy that, Violet Fox. Porters moving to reset," came the reply over her comms. SI:7 was nothing if not efficient these days, and Darkshire's Night Watch would be more than enough to clear the cult from this inn, and give peace to the souls of the poor family who'd run it.
As she opened the window, her visions whispered in her mind. The future that could have been had she submitted, become the weapon Normantis desired. "Not very tempting, I begin to wonder if you're even trying anymore," she muttered to herself, leaping down with elven grace to land silently below, and make her way into the forest. All in a day's work.
(( DWC june 2026, Day 7, Horrify/Render, @daily-writing-challenge CW: none ))
"I want to have words with whoever taught the Dominaar the world "render" in our language," Lorellai all but cussed, eyeing the dissipating shadows of the dominaar they'd defeated to make sure it wasn't about to reform on them. "If I hear the phrase 'Render your soul unto me' one more time I'm gonna push the big red button!"
Spiru quirked an eyebrow at her friend. "So that's the part you find frustrating, not the part where they attempt to either kill or enslave you."
"Nah, that's just badguy stuff, that's whatever, but do they not have -any- new lines? It's getting old!" Lorellai threw her hands up in frustration. "How many more of these would-be tyrants do we have left anyway?"
Spiru's pulled the target list from her belt. "Two remaining from the locations given to us by Decimus. Thus far they have indeed been the same ones who threatened Eversong. If these last two are also appropriate targets, I will regrettably owe Janosis ten gold. I was certain Decimus would use us to eliminate unrelated rivals to his own machinations."
"I mean, he still probably is. It's kind of their way to have beef with each other at all times. Still, Decimus is better than most; he hasn't screwed us over yet, gave us shelter, -and- he actually has read a thesaurus!"
Spiru smirked. "You're -actually- irritated by their lack of creativity in their phrasing, aren't you?"
"And you aren't? Fighting against deadly foes is less fun if they make it boring, Spiru, that's auntie Hlin's rule number 3!"
"Having met miss Stoutarm, that does not surprise me." Spiru said flatly. "Well, we won't know if these other dominaar have wider vocabularies unless we find them. Or perhaps learn to speak their language so they can threaten us in their mother tongue."
Lorellai stopped, and let out a laugh. "Okay, yeah, that's fair. Let's go get 'em, and I'll try to avoid being too rude about it."
(( DWC February 2026, Day 1, Yearn/Couple, @daily-writing-challenge CW: none ))
The gentle winds of the Jade Forest were filled with the scents of cherry blossoms, wafting up from the grand orchards and filling the whole region with the gentle aroma, a perfect setting for a quiet picnic date.
Dagran sighed contentedly. He'd been planning this little get together for over a week, arranging his schedule just so, getting the various treats together, and dozens of other small pieces that added up to a wonderful whole; a picnic date during the Gala of Gifts with the young woman who made everything just a bit more wonderful.
Now if only she could find it in her to relax.
Lorellai was a bundle of nerves, her gaze wandering around at all the other people who were taking advantage of the gala's portals to enjoy scenic getaways. Everywhere she turned, another set of eyes on her and Dagran, and the whispers of rumour that came from it.
"Dagran, everyone's looking at us!" she hissed, nervously holding a tart.
"They're probably wondering why you're head's on a swivel, Lorellai. You really ought to relax, these candies are much better when you are able to give them your full attention."
"You know what I mean, Dagran, they all recognize you!"
"They recognize us, Lorellai. Despite your insistence otherwise, you've made plenty of waves yourself. Daughter of some of Ironforge's most storied heroes, Hero of the Primalist conflict, you're not some nobody. The key to dealing with it is to let them whisper and wonder. Live honestly and they'll have nothing to bother with." Dagran replied, pulling out a pair of sandwiches and placing them on a plate between the pair. "I would certainly not want to hide away in some hidden place where no one could see me. I like you quite a bit, and want to see the world with you at my side."
Lorellai blushed. "It's just... I know what they say back home. About my da' and your ma', and everything that happened back before we were born. That stuff lingers for Ironforge."
"That it does. Mother's still not especially thrilled about us, to be honest. But I am willing to face her disapproval for you." Dagran took a deep breath. "That said, if it's too much pressure for you, or if the idea of us as a couple doesn't make you as happy as it makes me-"
"Not another word, Dagran." Lorellai said, spinning on him and meeting his gaze for the first time since they'd arrived. "I... I like you too. I'm just not used to being the center of attention. But I can face it."
"I'm glad to hear being seen in public with me isn't scarier than facing Dimensius, the void lord." Dagran smirked, poking his companion in the shoulder, earning himself a soft punch in return with a chuckle. "That's more like it. Now then, why don't we enjoy this beautiful view, and let everyone else wonder as they will."
Lorellai blushed and smiled, stuffing a chocolate in her mouth, before sliding closer to Dagran. It was indeed a beautiful view.
