#fenrag

For each or any of yours.

Sevlaz "Misplaced plans with a guilty conscience."

Fenrag "A wayward man searching for his place."

Cahall "Haunting souls seeking redemption for the uncontrollable."

Erik "The carefree nature burdened with crippling doubts."

Qinhou "Steadfast friend struggling to keep up."

Mary "Untethered and lost but curious of her new role."

"And you?"

"Me?" The steward blinked as he looked past the floating plate biscuits between the pair. Coren's eyes unfocused for a moment and returned curious at such a question. He'd never thought about it very much. "I would say 'hopeful for all, but doomed by his fate."

"Cryptic."

The older looking man shrugged as he stirred his tea with a small spoon. "Life within an hourglass."

I am Fenrag.

Darkness is all I see. It is not due to blindness. Or a sense of my own blood betraying me. Now I see darkness by choice. The old cloth wrapped about my eyes for the last few days has long since dried from the initial dampness that my master had applied to it. My face is turned up toward the sky as I catch brief flashes in the darkness of red, white, and yellow. Is it the passing of the day? Or perhaps a flight of birds crossing my path? I remember well that moment of relief from the suns oppressive might on my homeland from a day ago. But it was fleeting and gone, perhaps that itself is part of the lesson.

I am unsure of where I sit, my body exposed to the elements naked to the winds, sun, and earth leaving me confused but unafraid as to my whereabouts. The only thing left to me has been my sword, encased within it’s battered wooden sheath it rests on my folded legs as I sit at attention. The final word that first morning having been in the harsh and low tone of my master, Ronakada, “Wait.”

The air always tastes dry, the sun is unending for hours, and the earth is dry and sparse beneath my naked body. Each day I awaken in the same place yearning for that damp linen of the first day as it’s coolness had keep the burning from growing to strong. Now it is day three. My tongue slides from my mouth and licks at my scarred upper lip, the bits of sweat all the nourishment I have had as I sit and meditate in the wilds. It is lacking and my body is growing weak.

How long must I wait? Why do I wait? I can get up and leave whenever I want to. I should get up and leave. This was a fools errand. Tear the cloth away and head back to Ogrimmar. Rejoin the army fully and go forth unto the world to defend and honor the Horde against the tyranny of my peoples former oppressors. There is honor and glory waiting if I just get up and take it!

But I sit. I wait. I am a warrior. No, I am beyond a warrior. I am Fenrag, one of the last of the Thunderlord blood. I will not betray my ancestors honor. I will not run from this challenge. I will be blademaster.

The fourth day rises. I am tired. My hands rest on the sword in my lap as I do my best to keep my head held high, but it has been a long night and soon to be a longer day. I am glad for the steel in my lap as it supports me in these long hours of wait. My right held tight to the oil and sweat worn hilt, my left holding just the same to the dry wood of my scabbard. Am I failing? I must be, and death is my punishment. But I will not leave this. If I am to die here, so be it. I will die with honor.

Night is falling on the fourth day, and my body is weary as I wish only for sleep but the sun falling behind my head brings coolness to my face of night. I have face the rising sun and slept as it sleeps. Sleep will be welc…

Twilight fills my blurry vision as I look out into the coming night, my shadow splayed across the ground before me with the dwindling heat of day behind me. My shadow is not alone, as the rage of my forefathers fills me with new determination and the training of my master springs me into action. My thick body rolls forward with a low growl rumbling in my chest, I tuck into my shoulder and turn on my knee in the dirt to face my new shadow. My thick hands have already shot about to bring my sword to bear though not drawn, as steel is only needed drawn when blood is ready to be drawn. The shadow is much like my own though leaner and longer thanks to the dying light of day.

Her skin had been as blue as the ocean with flares of white among her mane to match the caps of a wind swept coast. Long legged, bright crimson eyes, and tusks that bore the intricate designs of the Darkspear tribe. She was beautiful. It was hard to believe she had thought anything of the young green orc from Outland other than a casual lay. It had honestly had only started as that and to be fair ended that way.

Her name was Jora, she felt it wasn’t necessary to share a last name in the constant state of war that the world was in.

‘Live in the moment, love in the time ma sweet pup.’

There had been an almost condescending tone to her love language with Fenrag, but he was far too young and dumb to care. The apprentice Blademaster had finally reached the grand city of his heroic tales and was eager to find his way to serve the Horde. He had dreams of living like Samuro or Lantresor with a blade in hand a banner of red on his back.

He hadn’t expected what was to come later on, but that was later in the past rather than the present past.

The present past he’d been picked out like a fine cut of kodo, Jora fire fueled eyes spying the country born, young buck with a fine hunger for his strength. Who was he to say no? Or want to say no?

Fenrag learned what it was like in the city from Jora and what it was to be a competent lover. The few months together were something to be told in passing but with plenty of secrets for the lonely nights afield.

Bright and fierce, it was inevitable to end with a wave and a promise that lead to an end as all tales in war go. Battle swept the field, wars started and ended, and the last known word on Jora had been of the burning of Teldrassil. The night elves are swift with vengeance for all who bore the red and black in those times.

Arrows are the longest embrace.

“Don’t worry. All is as it was meant to be.”

Gato’s words echoed in the young orc’s mind as he gasped of the dry air that was Vol’din, the pair of serpent men doing much the same as they circled him with their cobra head staves. Fenrag’s brown eyes would follow them and ears would prick beneath his hood as he prepared for what would come from the vile Faithful. Nearby he could hear the whimpering of the vulpera that he had been tasked with finding, face grim at the cries of the young. These Sethrak had no honor.

But how was this meant to be? The concepts of his masters teaching did not always fit into his own thoughts on the world. The vulpera were not exactly without faults, their minds seeming to be bent more into the wants of finding what wasn’t theirs and deeming it theirs. It was the innocence he supposed of the action. Malice did not drip into every step of their treasure hunting, it was all meant for the family and to better the communities they built around their wagons and burrows about the harsh rocks of this wasteland. And here were the Faithless now, a corrupted sect of the Keeper Vorriks Devoted, murdering, pillaging, and slaving to further a corrupted concept of glory and war. Honor was lost to these traitors at the first use of chains. We will never be slaves.

Stance widened slightly as he felt his cloak fluttering about him in the hot wind, his feet avoiding the crumpled form of the third of their party, his pointed face a mess of inverted flesh. HIs left hand still in that spear point shape slowly closed into a heavy fist, the cracking of knuckles reverberating in the desert quiet as the three combatants waited for one of the others to move.

Patience, my young apprentice, let the wind be the wind. The wise words calmly drifted through him again as the young monk began to take head and slow his breathing, listening to the voice of the desert. He relaxed and let his closed fist open again, hear the wind’s voice and know it as friend. Heed the whispers of your companion. He closed his eyes to the blazing sun and entered the red dark, trusting in his master and guide.

Leaning forward he felt the breeze flash by above him, closing his eyes to it he took a step back and let a similar flash of air brush his face. He followed the will of the wind and stepped forward hard, his foot striking down through some that snapped like a rotten log. His left hand moved forward to follow the guidance of the wind and struck out to something soft and cold, it wasn’t unpleasant but was what it was. He pushed and felt the resistance disappear and the hot breath of the air caress his scarred and calloused palm.

Again the wind lead him. Down, up, left, right, right, left, and followed by a lift of his hand feeling the cold, soft feeling against his skin. It felt awkward and unreal to him, but soon was gone from his touch as the breeze breathed though his fingers and guided his back leg around in a high sweep through the air. Resistance but for a moment before nothing but emptiness and his foot coming back down to softly rest into the sand again.

A brief pause gave further clarity as the red dark lifted and his brown eyes of Fenrag gazed about the same sun bleached sands that he had begun here. His cloak whipped behind him from the winds growing strength of the afternoon weather patterns, his head lifting to face it with a calm smile on his grim, green face.

Drawing his gaze back down to the fallen foes about him, he took stock of the shattered staff and wood chunks about him from the first of the pair of Sethrak. The first of the final two was in a mess of arms and legs, hand clutched tight to it’s throat as it lay still in the hot sand, eyes cloudy and unfocused. The other was few feet away, face down in the sand with its staff sticking out of the sand where it had first stood against the orc. It had all seemed like years had passed during the confrontation but he knew the will of the wind and it was quick to pass it’s judgements against the unworthy.

“Wow,” a soft childlike whine spoke from one of the cages nearby, a pair of vulpera an gold eyes joined by others as they stared at their green savior. Murmurs of awe and appraisal, much of it commending that the feats were all with ‘one-hand’. Grunting the monk would fish about the snake’s belongings and find a key with a approving nod before heading to free the prisoners.

“You are safe, your caravan is not far from here,” Fenrag calmly spoke as he leaned down and unlocked the cages of the fox people, the short figures soon rushing out to gather and embrace one another. While some wept and clung to one another in relief at their freedom, he could feel the wary nature of suspicion at their large rescuer. The orc adjusted the cloak about his right shoulder again to cover his ‘loss’, feeling uncomfortable by the stares of his new charges.

“Come, I will lead you away from here,” Fenrag did his best to soften the command, but he was worried that these three were part of some larger raiding party. As good as the young orc was getting, any fighter could only face so many at a time and these people were not ready for such a skirmish.

“Why should we trust you, green skin?” Piped up a female vulpera voice, her words wracked with suspicion, anger, and fear.

The orc stiffened at the slur, they didn’t know better or even know him, his fist reflexively tightening before relaxing again. They only saw with their eyes, not their hearts as he breathed deeply the hot air of the desert through his nose, smelling the blood, sand, and sweat of Vol’din and releasing it through his mouth. Turning about the orc faced them and pulled back his hood to reveal his face fully and assail any of the fears they still felt.

For any of yours that might have thoughts on a first look at @gravekeeper-anna.

"Breathe in."

Darkness closed in around as the first breath was drawn in deeply. The rock beneath was hard and wet but offered a solid comfort as the air filled lungs. Dirt, smoke, and the sweet bits of moisture mingled upon the tongue from the deep inhale.

"Breathe out."

A wind of it's own was drawn out in a plume of anxiety, stress, and frustration as it cascaded from body out into the world. A weight lifted from his shoulders at the release to lift his spirit as much as his body causing his back to straighten to match the space made.

"Breathe in."

Oxygen again was sucked in a quiet inhale, measured and controlled to maintain the presence he had begun to craft. Muscles would tighten, core strengthened, and back firming as he continued to draw in the world. Embrace the world. See the world. Be one with the world. It was all so much, too much for a single vessel to contain but he had to try.

He had to see with eyes unclouded.

"Breathe out."

The rush happened again, expelling the world back into it's normal place and taking him with it. The body felt lighter and the spirit felt freed as it broke out from it's confines into a cool empty place beyond this shell.

"See, my child."

A vast sea of black stretched beyond any horizon he had known in his years, blanketed in a canvas of stars and colors. Purples. Blues. Pinks. Greens. A cornucopia of comfort and silence that continued on and on in this state. The astral sea was as beautiful as ever.

With the stars twinkling bright and bejeweled in the gentle swirl of the beyond, whatever form the spirit had taken began it's gentle gait into the ether. The idea of a fish was also a comforting concept, swimming lazily through the waters as the rush of currents was felt more than heard. Fins spread to guide through the proverbial waters as a tail would propel forward into the unknown in search of the question.

"Feel."

It was colder as the travels went deeper. A familiar icy grip beginning to tingle along scale and flesh of this form. Familiar was not in the pleasant manner either. The cold of the north gripped them tighter, icy winds, thick hard snow, and eyes all around. Blue eyes.

Dead eyes.

"Hear."

The wind blew and called even in the mystic waters they cut through. It was wild and burdened with a horrific past, cutting to the bone as much as the cold. Freezing the heart as much as the blood that struggled to continue to pump and warm the heart. Hopeless.

"Smell."

Roses. Dead roses. Musky, sweet, and sour like the kinds thrown to graves of the humans. All around them, floating through the water with petals of fading red to black. Swirling about in a frustrated storm of sorrow that continued to drown them.

"Taste."

Rot. Disgust. Unnatural. It made their insides twist and turn in revulsion to the real dusty flavors that flooded their mouth. It was the only warm thing they could remember, the sweetest meat that could have no equal. Nothing tasted as good as this. But never would be again, causing an ache to grow inside. Churning further and worming through them as as the ache twisted making his swim turn more into a thrash.

"What do you know?"

Death. It was all around. All consuming. All punishing. All transitioning. It hurt as much as it was wanted. It never stopped hurting. There was no wear to go. The cold was gripping them tighter. Holding them. Let me go. Let me go.

"Let me go!" Fenrag screamed as he fell into the red dirt of the Valley of Wisdom, his body drenched in cold sweat and eyes wild. His one hand was clawing at the ground as felt his insides tighten and flood upward.

Retching was the worst thing he could have done as he sat on his knees, his one hand holding him up as shakily as it could. A gently paw would sweep in from his empty side to steady him as he continued to expel everything he could have imagined consuming.

"There there my son, let it go. Let it go," another paw had joined the gently pandaren voice as it rubbed between his shoulders in comfort. "You swam too deep this time."

Coughing Fenrag would try to sit back, hoping he would feel better after vomiting. He did not.

"It was horrible," the orc choked out as he tried to blink away the memories of his meditation. If green could be a shade lighter, he would be that of autumn sage as from his usual emerald coloring.

Master Gato smiled sadly as he reached into his robe to pull out an old leather wine skin, popping the top and offering it to his apprentice. "It is but a taste of what they know. The Forsaken live like this always."

Fenrag took the skin and drank, cleaning his mouth out once with a spit before taking another swallow.

"Always and forever," Gato continued as he soothed the orc quietly.

Characters

Character: Eldridge Candell

Tumblr: @eldridgecandell

FC: Timothy Dalton / Iain Glen

Occupation: Inquisitor of the Order of Embers

Description: A middle aged soldier using the skills of his past to help defend the present from the dark underbelly of the supernatural.

Activity: Very (Main) WoW: WrA

Preferred RP: Discord, Tumblr

Cross RP: Yes-ish

Character: The Rovers (Zexx Candell, Edmund Dumast, Joenver Wotvar, Beatrix Gallina, Janus Klaudin)

Tumblr: @thetyrianrovers

FC: Z - Andy Samberg; E - Donald Glover; J- Clive Standen; B - America Ferrea; Ja - Tim Roth

Occupation: Adventurers/Thieves

Description: A band of intrepid men and women who came together to right wrongs, protect the innocent, and make a lot of money.

Activity: Less than before but interested in kick starting again - GW2

Preferred RP: Discord, Tumblr

Cross RP: Set in GW universe so not much of crossfactions but plenty of intrigue.

Character: Zexx Candell

Tumblr: @zexxcandell

FC: David Harbour

Occupation: Hero for Hire

Description: A dimensional refugee relocated to a world similar to his own but different from the winds of a butterfly’s wings.

Activity: Dormant (former Main) WoW:WrA

Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr

Cross RP: Yes

Character: Oplisca Du’mere

Tumblr: @opliscadumere

FC: Marion Cotillard

Occupation: Tailor/Broken Cultist

Description: A woman thought to be a key in the victory of the Old Ones but ultimately lost everything and was banished into the ether. Time and space is strange beyond the veil in the dark of emptiness that was her prison. Moments are years, years are minutes until a desperate Alliance opened the door and released her into this new world.

Activity: Dormant (antagonist) WoW: WrA

Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr

Cross RP: Yes

Character: Multiple NPCs and Side Characters

Tumblr: @gatesofthetroupe

FC: Multi-character blog, no definite choices on some

Occupation: A dramatis personae

Description: A side blog I created to house all the npcs and side characters I’ve created for my main players. Some are main characters as well but I don’t play or use them enough to garner whole blogs to them.

Activity: Quasi active WoW: MG, Mael, WrA, etc

Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr

Cross RP: Yes

Character: Erlain Candell

Tumblr: @erlaincandell

FC: Michael Fassbender (WC1 & 2)/ James Cosmo (WC:BDP; BC)/ Ian McElhinney (present)

Occupation: Son of Lothar; Knight of the Silverhand; Soldier of Stormwind

Description: A twilight knight approaching the end of his life but refusing to give up his way of life. Years of soldiery and a life spent by the sword has created as many failures as triumphs.

Activity: Dormant-ish WoW: WrA

Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr

Cross RP: No

Inactive

Character: Fenrag Onehand, Son of Sevlaz

Tumblr: @fenrag-sonofsevlaz

FC: Charlie Cox (Voice)

Occupation:Wounded Wanderer

Description: A broken blade reforged to serve the Horde.

Activity: Dormant WoW: WrA

Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr

Cross RP: No

Character: Alfred Klaudin

Tumblr: @alfredklaudin

FC: Ralph Fiennes

Occupation: Deathguard

Description: A shambling zealot obsessed with his Dark Lady and her will.

Activity: Dormant WoW:WrA

Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr

Cross RP: No

Character: Edmund Dumast

Tumblr: @edmunddumast

FC: Howard Charles(ish?)

Occupation: Alliance Pistolier

Description: A former POW during the Draenor campaign who is trying to integrate back into society and life.

Activity: Very Dormant WoW:WrA

Preferred RP: Discord; Tumblr

"Fucker's got one arm! Rip em to shreds!" Roared the centaur as he leveled his spear at the green skinned figure. The others roared in appreciation of the easy kill as their hooves began to drum over the dirt as they rushed Fenrag.

The monk looked up, his red tinted eyes blazing as he heard them mock him. Despite his years of study and work to quell the fire of his blood, tainted by a father's need to escape there was still some things that really made the warrior boil free of the serenity of his training.

A heavy click resounded as he snapped the broken warblade gauntlet to his ruined arm, once more one with his old weapon. His thick feet thumping in time as he glided over sand and stone to rush into the thick of them, the bellowing cry of an orc matching the wild madness of the Princess's progeny.

"That's not good."

"Eh?" Fenrag slowly limped his way to stand in front of the window, his red eyes widening at the growing explosion in front of himself and Sevlaz. "Oh no."

"Yeah my thought as well," grunted the older orc as he began to dig in his belt to draw out his blue billfold. "You'd think you save a reality and you get a pass on the end part."

The younger orc still stared in worry, his good hand leaning heavily on his bamboo staff as he gaped as the fire grew larger. "What do we do?"

Sevlaz unfolded his billfold and grunted as he pulled out the snapped clay pipe letting it fall to the steel floor with a clatter. "Fuck if I know kid."