[A]<Blood of Arathor>[RP] 'Till the Wind Dies

Moon Guard
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She pulled out her meager coin purse, then, moving to get several gold coins, though she knew it would hardly be enough for what the cloth was likely worth, but he pulled his hand from her shoulder, waving the coin away. "You keep your coin, my Lady. You just remember that you owe Old Tompkins and his little Emily a favor, right?"

Llyr grinned at that, then nodded. "I'll remember, sir."

And that made the older gentleman just smile--a good-natured smile. "Right then! Off you go, and make sure you haggle that quartermaster good. He owes me for a bet or two made at cards, and I'm not likely to see it paid anyhow. May's well make sure he gets a bad deal in somethin' more'n cards."

Llyr found herself laughing a little at his words, and even though she turned to go, she glanced back toward him for a moment, watching as he set about dealing with the cloth and his daughter and the little day-to-day affairs of being a traveling merchant.

And in that moment, ...she knew she was home.

The rest of the day passed far too quickly, and before she knew it, she was laden down with two more men for their caravan of supplies back to Refuge Point--two donkeys carrying coops of chickens, four more horses, two of which were laden with hay and fodder, feed, and horse shoes. The other two were war-horses laden down with barding and the other little items she'd collected during her foray with the quartermaster and Old Man Tompkins as well as few of the other merchants about the camp.

Her favored possessions, though--the ones she had come for especially, she carried back with her in her own horse's saddlebags. There was a meerschaum pipe all carefully stored in a driftwood case that bore carvings of mermaids and ships and fish of the sea, as well as a pouch that was full of little tins of leaf meant to be smoked with it--including a special one that held something called "Cheery Blossom Leaf" from Pandaria. The rest were highland blends. There was also a small, sea-green, silk kerchief for Thaelan on which were embroidered fabulously-colored butterflies, and a strange, red and black, metalic cloak-pin in the shape of a wolf's head for Alezander. She'd also picked up several crossbow bolts for Meyer, a small flask of fey-wine for Sylbor (which had cost her more than she would have liked,) and a carved, wooden walking staff for Carres--since she'd noticed he didn't have one. The carvings were only artful decoration, but Llyr had liked them and thought he might, too. And last, but certainly not least, there was a small, wooden box for Lord Kingsmith within which were seeds from the Cenarion efforts in the Plaguelands--so that he'd always have a little piece of home to take with him. And ...maybe one day, plant.

And so, so burdened, the six of them headed off back toward the camp in the cove--the sky alight with fire as the sun began to set in the west.

((Written while listening to: Home from the Hills -- from the soundratck to Rob Roy))
To the top with you, Llyrae's new story thread.
*pesters Alezander for more stories* *cracks whip* >.>
<.< But this is your story thread. Don't make me post Sylbro's story up here. I'll do it!
(page 12)

The Standing Stones

Stones, the dreams that never die,
Hard and cold as stars within the sky;
Wind, the promise of a story ever told
Through autumn leaves of red and gold;
And moonlight shining down to shroud the land,
In shadowed fairy-tales as limitless as grains of sand.

The dance is woven through--reminder of the past:
That nothing is forever, but the cycle still holds fast.
And Time will come to braid this night once more
As it has a thousand other times before--
And a girl will wonder at the mysteries revealed
By the stranger whose motives are carefully concealed.

And a hand will pass over cold, hard stone,
And she will be standing in the Dark, alone;
And the wind will tease her with its sighs,
Umbra of the innocence that ever-dies--
Shadows cast by the silvered light of the moon
And fairy-tales, once believed, and lost too soon.
Still growing strong :)
I hear good things about you! I look forward to our eventual meeting.
Thank ye!

Some of mine rather love you guys as well and I know Alez here has a huge respect for dwarves. I shall look forward to working together!
A letter lost in the Alliance post service, never reaching it's intended recipient. It reaches you, instead.

My friend,

This Lord Alezander Talwind and his men continually prove themselves to be far more capable and far more determined than the other organizations, claimed kingdoms and military outfits I have seen to date.

While I am impressed with what has been done thus far, I look forward most to what is on the horizon. There is a place for me, here. Perhaps it is what I have been searching for all this time. I believe there is also a place for you. You need only reach out at make contact.

I understand why you may be skeptical. I certainly was. However, I hope you will take this recommendation with all the weight it is intended to have. I do not place my name or pledge my house lightly. That aside, you are capable, resolute and worth your salt. You'll find what you're looking for here, if I know you at all.

Come and prove me right or wrong -- either way, come.

Yours in all sincerity,
Lady d'Tanien
Shadows and Light

They were dancing in one another's arms as they spun away from her, Saryhn's red hair swirling around her like a halo of burnt autumn leaves. The fire's light danced behind them, a shimmering mirage in the darkness that enclosed them. But then Raistlin stepped away from her, bowing ever so politely in that way he seemed to know so well, and a shade of himself stepped in to take his place.

The darkness around them became a stone room, lit by two fires on either side of it that illuminated the scene. A ballroom it now appeared, though it had once been a feasting hall--its chairs and tables cleared away. And Raistlin was retreating to a cold, stone throne that overlooked the room, settling down upon it, an elbow resting to one of its tanned, stone arms, as he settled his chin upon his fingertips.

His eyes watched the shade of himself and the Lady Saryhn as they danced--she in raiments of gold and fire that shone with a life all their own, and his shade--the dark finery of his clothes hinting at some warped power of sensual corruption.

Llyrae was dressed in white--the strange opposite of the shade that now led the lady in their dance. Her dress, like Saryhn's own, seemed to have a flowing life, the intricate weaves and fabrics drifting down about her almost like a mist to Saryhn's fire.

She was standing across from the dancers, her back to the second fire that blazed warmly behind her--creating those drafts that pulled at her finery and hair. And she felt a certain powerlessness as she watched them all--Raistlin on his throne, Saryhn and the shade.

As the two continued to dance, she saw the subtlest of strings being placed upon Saryhn's frame--like those of a puppet.

First came her arms--one, two,...three, four. And she saw something strange as each string attatched itself to the other woman. Little by little her dress was changing, too. With the finalization of her arms, there was suddenly a low cut bodice to her gown, exposing pale flesh and hinting at the woman's lush breasts beneath. Too, the sleeves to the gown became like tendrils of flame rather than sleeves, darting back and forth with the dancers' movements, exposing glimpses of slender arms to the fire's light.

Next came her torso, and down to her legs--spinning, spinning--her dress changing as the strings attatched themselves. The gold was soon crimson, then black like a moonlit stream, and the fires behind them all seemed to dim--as something dark and sinster began to crawl its way into the room.

There was only one string left--one string left that kept the flames and Saryhn's features from succumbing to that darkness that sought to engulf her.

Her head.

Don't let it happen, something in her thoughts warned her. You have to stop this. The words were her own thoughts, emphatic and compelling. They stirred her from the dream-like haze that had been holding her still, and she found herself propelled toward the two dancers, running across the hall, moonlight white garments trailing in a swirl behind her with her movements.

Her hands thrust themselves between them both, pushing them apart, and both the shade and near-puppet staggered backward as she caught her breath, her eyes trailing to the figure who still sat upon his throne as the music and the dance ended.

"You have to stop this," she told him, her words ringing with clarity through the hall.

Saryhn and the shade seemed to fade from the room, the fires growing dimmer as Llyrae headed toward the throne; and yet, she could feel them there behind her, watching her as the snow-gowned girl moving to confront the sky-shrouded mage.

Raistlin lifted his head from his fingertips, his expression neither cruel nor caring, but his azure-tinged eyes watching her intently. "And why should I?" The tone of his voice was uncaring--almost bored, even.

Llyrae felt her hands curling into fists as she stopped just below the throne, gazing up at him. Anger welled up within her as she sought the words that needed to be said, finding them more easily than she had anticipated. "Because those strings are pieces of your soul, and the more of them you attatch, the emptier it becomes."

An amused smile curled his lips as he leaned back away from her, the blue folds of his garments settling around him regally. "And why should I care?" His eyes seemed to be laughing at her.

"Because..." she replied in dismay, though it was her anger that finished for her, "This isn't YOU!"

That one last word seemed to echo and reverberate throughout the hall--and suddenly there were shards of the dream cascading down all around them--a stained glass window of flames and fire that had been shattered.

The shards melted away into the darkness leaving Llyrae in her simple robe and Raistlin in his reds and blues standing there facing one another. He seemed perplexed, glancing back at the destruction that had just occured before his gaze settled on her.

"Impressive," he murmured to himself before turning abruptly and disappering into the darkness, as well.

And that left her...alone.

Tired, exhausted, and imagining that this must be like how it felt after fighting in a large battle, Llyrae sunk down to the ground, head bowing, eyes closing.

The blanket of sleep draped itself about her, then. And Llyrae finally let go of the dream.

And slept.

((written while listening to "The Dance" from the Legend soundtrack))
Anyone can use the letter Tal posted as an excuse to RP with us, I should add :) That's pretty much its purpose.

There will be a new story soon!

Gogo Llyr :D

*zombies through thread*
Llyr, you bumped too early! The thread didn't get the chance to dissapear on the second page yet! :P <3
Oh, and for anyone who doesn't know - we primarily RP in the Faldir's Cove (Where the pirates are) of the Arathi Highlands. Anyone is free to stop by and RP with us there :)
(page 13)

Hymn to the Light

In darkness and in doubt
We long for inner peace;
And in our hearts, devout,
The Light shall never cease.

When troubled and in pain
We hope for some respite;
But this suffering will gain
Us Strength within the Light.

In agony and sorrow
We look for comfort's touch
And pray that on the morrow
The Light will grant us such.

Within you all the Light does shine;
Its strength is your belief,
Yours is the hand that comforts mine
And saves me from my grief.
I can't help but feel like we have a lack of dwarves in our RP. *nod* Need more drunkedness.
I'd hang around more if I wasn't leveling. :P We do have that event tomorrow, though, hoping we can get some DV stationed over at the Span with y'all.

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