Depth of Despair-IC-see sign ups

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
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Carinoth walked back too the slab and saw the holes he apparently didn't notice before along with the bugs coming in and out of it. 'I stand corrected. Bugs are more annoying.' Carinoth thought as he glared at the bugs. He sighed then jumped as he heard "DEATH TO ALL THE ENEMIES OF THE HORDE." in one of the caves and groaned then started walking towards the sound. When he arrived to what he thought was the source of the noise he saw a human and a wet orc. "So im assuming the orc tried to kill you. Its usually how it happens these days." Carinoth walked up to the human and nodded. "I don't assume either of you know how we got here?" Carinoth walked towards the pool of water and kneeled down next too it, looking at the fish swimming by the light. "Nasty looking fish they are."
Varen jammed the gem section of the rod into the orc's stomach and channeled as much energy as he could, hoping to generate a magical lightning strike on the orc. Much to his disappointment, nothing happened.

This is just not my day. he thought. Much to his surprise, rather than ripping his head off, the orc staggered against a rock and started... complimenting him? That was new.

And I appear to have gotten the 'large, brains replaced by bone' type of orc. Granted, that describes about sixty percent of the ones I've met, but still.

"I am going that way, if you with to join me you can but it's not being forced." the orc said before turning away.

Right. thought Varen. I think not, orc. I'll just let you go on out the tunnel and see what lurks in there while I see what other stuff is laying around the cave. Without saying a word, Varen turned away and started picking up the ragged remnants of the cloak he had used to blind the orc. After tearing the rag into strips, Miles walked over to what looked like a bleached white human femur bone, picked it up, and started wrapping the dry rags around it. After that task was done, Varen pulled another one of his matches from the container in his pocket and struck it, lighting his impromptu torch on fire a moment later. He tossed the match on the ground where it sputtered for a few seconds before burning out.

His torch in his left hand, the human gripped the obsidium rod in the center and spun it a few times, getting a feel for the heft of his new weapon before letting his hand rest at his side. With his torch held at head-height a few feet in front of him, Varen was about to set off towards a smaller cavern just off to the side when a blood elf showed up. Miles let the elf talk for a while, patiently ignoring him while Varen scanned the walls to see if any other recesses were within easy climbing distance. After a bit, the elf walked over to the pool and looked down at the fish.

"Nasty looking fish they are." he finally concluded.

“Quite.” Varen replied deadpan. “And no, I have no idea how we got here. Good day. Or night, depending. Unless you happen to have a ring of power that you'd be willing to gamble on a game of riddles, I have no real interest here.” With that, Varen walked over to a medium-sized recess in the wall about eight or so feet of the ground and a few feet away from the “shore” of the underground pool and tossed his obsidium rod to the same hand that held the makeshift torch.

Miles took a few seconds to size up the wall, taking careful note of the handholds and footholds he would use. With that, he took a few steps back, ran towards the wall, and launched himself up the face. Using his natural height and long limbs to his advantage, Miles managed to grab onto the lip of the recess with his right hand on his first go. His feet scrabbled along the cavern wall until they finally found purchase, then pushed down. Varen forced himself up and into the relatively large alcove and grabbed his obsidium rod with his right hand again. He pushed his torch forward and looked around to see what other, possibly more useful, things might be laying around.
Aevus ignored the rats, used to their presence from his visits to the Dalaran sewers. The mage city, in comparison to many others, was very clean. After all, even their sewers had markets, marred only by rats and the diluted stench of magically-processed waste. He rarely visited the sewers anymore, what with his endless studying and experimentation.

In truth, he missed the recklessness and yearning for adventure that had accompanied of his youth, but he had long since grown out of such habits, and his new daily routine could only be described as boring- at least in the opinion of his younger self. He did bore sometimes, but the thrill of breaking new ground through discovery was worth the endless months of toiling. He had written many papers containing revolutionary findings that were widely acclaimed as pure brilliance by his peers.

His thoughts skidded to a halt when his magical awareness detected something. It was like a bright torch compared to the utter darkness produced by the magic dampener, whose source he had yet to discern. Laying a few feet to his left was an unassuming object, almost entirely buried under dirt and debris.

At closer inspection, the item was covered in a web of spells and enchantments. Aevus allowed a bemused grin to show on his face. Whoever had put him here had either overlooked this object, or wanted to give him an advantage over whomever else was in here; either way, he had been given a blessing. He took his time digging-up the staff, taking care not to harm it. When he finished, he picked it up, holding it at its point of even balance. The staff didn’t look much, just a length of wood with a small crystal at the end.

Aevus experimentally drew on his vast reserves of mana, trying to conjure a frostbolt. A hiss of disappointment escaped him when the spell failed, followed by a loud curse when the rock he’d been holding slipped from his grip, allowed to drop because of his divided attention. Anyone else in the cavern would be able to hear his racket, much to his dismay. With nothing but a rock and a simple staff to protect him, Aevus wouldn’t fare well against any attackers.

Unfortunately, danger wasn’t far away, if the figures across the pool were of any indication. For one reason or another, he hadn’t taken much notice of the water, but now the dryness of his throat brought it to his attention. He just hoped it was safe to drink. He kneeled down at the water’s edge, cupping his hands for the much-needed liquid, and took a sip, momentarily oblivious of any potential danger.
As Miles made his way up the wall to the recess, a brief chiitering seemed to come from the back of it. The torchlight revealed several things, a few rats scampered out of the way and dove into holes in the walls and floor. A large pile of rags in one part seemed to be covering something angular. The rags looked like the remnants of a silk gown once bedecking a fine lady, they were blue and white in color. Possibly Alliance colors, though it would be hard to tell.

Poking out of the pile to one side and angled down was the hilt of a sword. It appeared to be what may have killed the person whose bones it pierced. The rags covered most of the bones however in a topsy turvy manner that suggested a violent struggle. Next to that was a battered trunk with a locked latch that resisted his best efforts. It was perhaps four feet long and three feet deep and made of a substance best described as wood. There were metal bands reinforcing the edges, they appeared to be nailed on. The trunk was sturdy and looked very old, how it got up here in this alcove was a mystery.
The mingled sounds of Miles and Throm echoed about the cave, the noise resounding in the tiny alcove that Sefarra still sat in. Her senses finally fully kicked in, letting her make some sense of her surrounding. " I am going that way, if you with to join me you can but its not being forced." The gruff voice struck a bad note in her ears. 'What is going on?' She thought to herself. She stood, smacking her head with a thud against the low ceiling of the alcove.

Promptly, her migraine returned to it's deadly throbbing. She winced at the pain, massaging her temples as she stepped out into the larger portion of the cavern. Barely had she made two steps out, when the roar echoed, followed by the resounding grunts of a....gaint...pig? It made no sense, she knew, but whatever it was, it was moving in her direction. Slipping to the side, she followed the cavern wall, keeping pressed in the shadow, her dark skin blending. The 'orc' she had heard sure enough, was across the cavern standing next to a human....and an elf! The sight of the green monstrosity yanked cords deep within her fiber. 'If only I had my gun...'

The orc seemed distracted enough, and with the human, perhaps it wouldn't be aggravated by her presence. She stepped out into the light, her dark skin reflecting the light from the candles on the slab. As the human and elf moved towards the pool, Sefarra walked up to the slab in the center, pulling one of the remainding candles from it. "You wouldn't happen to know what exactly is going on in here, would you, elf?" She asked in Carinoth's direction, seeing as the human was preoccupied climbing the wall.
THrom walks afew steps before growling, not being able to see he turns back. Looking at the group he snarl's" No way, too dark." At that he looks around, and his stomach growls loudly growling, he walks over to the fish he discarded earlier and rise's it off. Once he was sure it was clean he bite the head off and spit it into the dirt. Sniffing it he take's a cautious bite before the rest of it dissapears down his stomach. Looking around, he notice's the new arrival but freeze's as he hears the sounds of some sort of creature headed towards the group.

Quickly he attempt to climb a wall into a niche in the wall above near the original entrance to the cave pulling his way up into the cave about the size of the one he awoke in. Throm looks around hoping to see something of use to him. But turns to look out, figuring if whatever was coming came he would be in a good spot to watch the fight without risking his own hide. "Back to a search...if only i could find a weapon..." he snarls to himself.
Ascul sighed and stared out into the ocean as he waited by the docks. It was a busy afternoon in Stormwind. The people were bustling. The guards were out doing their usual rounds. The city was alive. Still, time seemed to stand still around Ascul. Again he glanced down at the parchment he kept folded at his lap and read it over again. It was a letter from his younger sister saying that she would finally be coming home from her tour in the island in the mist. He was overjoyed to once again read over her crude handwriting, relieved to know she was alive and... hopefully, well. She always kept her letters vague and simple, making it impossible for him to tell whether or not she would be coming home with a war injury. She did this specifically so he wouldn’t panic; but, quite frankly, it only made his nerves worse. It was getting late; the horizon was turning a deep crimson color. The telltale sound of the bell snapped him out of his hazy thoughts. A crowd of people had flocked to the scene, family members awaiting the arrival of their loved ones. Slowly, the ship drifted in to dock and the soldiers disembarked to be embraced by their teary eyed loved ones. The Draenei stood a little ways away from the scene and scanned the crowd for his sister.
He turned to the sound of his name. There was no mistaking that voice.
“Erani!” he called back.
Clad in her lighter set of mail armor, sporting the signature blue and yellow tabard of the Alliance, his beloved sister stood before him, perfectly healthy save for a few small bandages over her fingers and one on her right cheek. Minor scratches. Nothing he couldn’t heal within a few minutes.
A wide grin split his face and he ran toward her to pull her into a tight hug. She grunted and staggered backward a bit from the sudden force. With a laugh, she said in their native tongue, “Ah, I should have known you would be here, brother. You’re so damn clingy.”
He laughed as well. “I just… wanted to be sure you were okay.”
“Oh, I’m fine. It’s going to take more than some misty island and a few dumb, smelly, orcs to take me down.”
Ascul shook his head at that, still smiling. He took Erani by the shoulders and gently pushed her back to get a better look at her. Erani smirked and arched an eyebrow. “So, are you gonna just stand there with that stupid grin on your face or are we gonna hit the tavern?”
He sighed. “Do you always have to ruin the moment?”
Erani shrugged and walked ahead of him, expecting him to follow, which he gladly did. In an almost practiced motion, Erani pulled out a cigarette and a small matchbox from a pouch at her belt. Ascul’s smile wavered a bit as she did so but this time, he would refrain from saying anything. For now, he was just happy his sister was safe.
It was a perfect evening. They drank a bit, laughed together, and enjoyed each other’s company. For them, it was a rare occasion. No worries, no complaints, and most importantly, no fighting. For the first time in a long time, the two sat down together not as rivals, but as brother and sister. As family. They returned to Erani’s home late that evening. He healed her cuts and bruises while she boasted about how she got each of them, clearly exaggerating in her stories. Then they wished each other a good night and went to bed. Ascul slept on the couch in the living room for the night. Erani had set out a blanket and pillow for him.
They had been sleeping rather soundly until Erani awoke to the sound of her brother snoring. When she became aware of the hard stone floor that had replaced her mattress, she bolted upright into a sitting position and looked around. “What in all that is Holy…?” she murmured to herself. They were in some sort of…cave? She looked to her side to see her brother sleeping soundly next to her. They were both still in their night wear. Erani, dressed in her white, cotton , nightgown and Ascul, mostly bare except for his boxers.
“Ascul? Ascul, wake up,” she said as she shook him awake. He grumbled groggily and slowly opened his eyes. Upon realizing they weren’t in Erani’s home, he too, bolted upright and rubbed his eyes.
“Erani? What… Where are we?” he said looking around wildly.
Erani pushed herself to her feet and began to explore the small corner of the cave they were in.
“I… I don’t know,” she whispered.
The fight that broke out between the two males had Zpan hauling her younger sister out of the way to safety by the slab. The mercenary spared it the barest glances. “Stay here. I'm going to grab some water so we can wash that bite.”

Leaving Maj the femur in case the rats came back or the fighting started to come over towards the slab, Zpan walked over to where she found the skeleton. Scooping up the skull, she inspected it; thankfully it was intact enough to carry at least some water... Eyeing where the Orc had encountered the aggressive fish, she also scooped up some of her dead victims by the tails and made her way to the deep pool. Tossing the dead vermin into the water to lure away any of the larger predators, she hurriedly scooped water into the skull.

Making her way back over to her sister, she handed the skull over to her pale sister. “Rinse your foot, I'm going to scavenge what I can.”

The mercenary searched around the slab her sister was sitting one – she had seen the cloak that one of the others had found – maybe there were more useable scraps of fabric for a torch and bandages? If not...her tunic was long enough that it wouldn't hurt losing fabric, the same with her sister nightgown. The sound of the bellowing in the distance had her tensing, her bath teeth grinding That...sounded like it might be getting closer. She needed a better weapon then the femur bone...

Maj carefully poured the water over her foot, rinsing away the blood onto the slab as she peered at the bite – it looked...not as bad as she had seen others get. Oh if she had her mana or even her tailoring kit....!
Miles lowered his torch to get a better look at the sword.

“Well hello.” he muttered as he gripped the hilt and pulled it out of the skeleton. It was a longsword, not his melee weapon of choice but still useful, and obviously well-made. He couldn't tell what substance it was forged of off the top of his head, though the smoky metal suggested saronite, titansteel, or obsidium. Rummaging around, he found a matching sword-belt and scabbard which he belted on over his outfit. After putting the sword in its scabbard and the obsidium rod through a convenient loop on the belt, Miles started looking over the chest. Looking around to make sure no one else had made it up the wall, Varen grabbed a rock and started striking the nails to see if he could loosen them and pry them off.
Carinoth's ears perked up when he heard "elf". He stood back up and saw a Draenei staring at him from near slab where he was. As we walked back towards it he noticed two human women and one of them washing a wound on there foot. "That water could be filled with germs you know." He said blankly as he walked to the Draenei. "No, girl. I do not know what is going one here or even where here is. I remember falling asleep in my bed and that's about it. Also I can't use my magic and as a Blood Elf, I feel extreme amounts of irony right now." He looked at his hand free hand with concern. He turned his head towards the wounded human. "What happened too you?" He said entirely void of all emotion.
A flurry activity was happening in the cavern, and, Aevus remarked, none of it seemed to be fight-related. Weren't the factions always at the throats of their counterparts? Even the Sunreavers and Silver Covenant in Dalaran had the occasional factional dispute. Either way, this turn of events benefited him, because less fighting would mean less getting caught up in it.

Aevus was beginning to notice a pattern in the magical dampening field; it seemed to grow less powerful the higher in the caverns one went. Perhaps if he journeyed to a higher point, he could regain some of his powers. It was worth trying. So he cautiously explored the walls of the cave, looking for a passage or slope. He could always climb, but preferred not to resort to that unless it was absolutely necessary; it wouldn't do to dirty his mage robes if it could be avoided.

He stopped short at the sound of a roar nearby. This was a terribly unfortunate situation- an unknown yet clearly aggressive creature was nearby, and he had nothing but a piece of wood and a stone to defend himself with. He would need help from the strangers if he was to escape this light-forsaken place alive. Aevus set his sights on a pair of humans, secretly preferring the presence of his own race while he was so vulnerable.

Upon reaching the two, Aevus greeted them with a bow. He spoke in deep, low voice with a Lordaeron accent. "Do not be alarmed, I mean you no harm. We'll need to stick together if we want to survive this place. I'm Aevus, what are your names?" He asked.
As Erani scanned the cave she could have sworn she heard voices coming from somewhere in the winding tunnels of the cavern.
“Ascul? Do you hear that?”
Ascul nodded and pushed himself up. “Do you see anyone? Any movement?”
Erani shook her head. “It’s too dark to really make out any detail… Oh!” Erani’s eyes lit up as though she had just remembered something. Ascul blinked at her in confusin as she suddenly reached into the collar of her gown and materialized a small matchbox.
Ascul stared. “You… you keep matches hidden in your…?”
“It was a habit I picked up on the frontline to keep the other soldiers from stealing my cigarettes while I was asleep,” chirped Erani.
Ascul stared at her with a blank expression. “I-…you-…Why-…Why do you even sleep with matches in your garments?!”
“Why not? Besides, I bet you wish you had matches in your underwear right now?” before Ascul could even comment Erani struck off the match and held it up to better light the area. “Let’s go see if we can find the source of those voices.”
Ascul balked. “Are you insane? We don’t even know if the voices are friendly! For all we know they could be twisted demons, or angry murlocs, or….”
Erani rolled her eyes and said, “Well do you have any better ideas?”
“Yes! How about we not draw attention to ourselves in the case of, oh I don’t know, the dangers I just listed?”
“If they turn out to be dangerous, we’ll just kill ‘em and find our own way out.”
“And if they are not so easily killed?”
“Then you stay behind and create a diversion while I escape.”
Ascul gave his sister a bland look. “I hardly think this is anytime to be joking around, Erani.”
Erani smiled, “Humor can be a good resource to combat panic and keep your wits about you when in situations like these. Another little tidbit from the battlefield. And as long as we don’t have any whiskey available, you’re gonna be hearing a lot of bad jokes from my part as long as we’re here.”
“Great….” Muttered Ascul.
Looking back toward the seemingly endless cavern, Erani called out, “Hello?! Is anyone there!?”
"That water could be filled with germs you know." Maj jumped a bit when the Blood Elf male in all black came over to the slab as her sister searched around for anything useful.

“Well its better than doing nothing and letting it fester,” Zpan snapped at him, even as he turned away to speak to a...Draenei? Well at least they wouldn't be outnumbered by the Horde wherever this place was....

"What happened too you?"

The young teen ducked her head, flexing her toes carefully as she answered softly. “...a rat bit me...”

And then an older human man in what appeared to be mage robes approached the sisters. "Do not be alarmed, I mean you no harm. We'll need to stick together if we want to survive this place. I'm Aevus, what are your names?"

Zpan paused her search to glare at him and the Blood Elf warily; the mercenary knew better then to blindly trust anyone. “I'm Zpan. The kid's my sister Maj.”
The alcove that Throm climbed into was dark and cramped with a low ceiling, but it was tall enough for him to almost stand erect. If he felt around in the debris, even without light , he would find a battered waraxe. To a normal human it would be a two handed weapon, to an orc it was a nice hefty one hander. It had a hook on the back and a nicked but serviceable blade. The hilt was hardwood and wrapped with leather for a good grip.

There were also some leather scraps there, apparantly whoever left the axe was a crafter. If he looked long enough he would find a skinning knife and a pouch containing some odd survival necessities. (a stone to sharpen blades, a sewing awl and some thread thick enough to use with leather.)

Miles striking the metal on the trunk had an odd effect. The sparks flew and he was very close to setting the rags on fire. Evidently the piece of rock he picked up was flint. It was also softer than the metal and soon fell apart in his hands in flakes that had sharp edges. It might even be enough of a find to make flint headed arrows or even a spear tip if he found a larger piece of it. The metal held though and he would not be able to get it off the chest without some kind of leverage to get under the edge. The lock was very sturdy, but a clever rogue with the right tools might be able to pick it.
Miles noted the sparks flying off of the metal and figured that he had picked up flint. After a couple of seconds, he decided to keep a shard as a back-up in case his matches ever ran out and put it in one of his numerous empty pockets. After that, he sat and scowled, disgusted, at the obstinate chest. The blasted thing just refused to yield, and he had never really had any sort of aptitude for lockpicking. The possibility of getting a rogue to pick it never crossed his mind. After a few more seconds of contemplation, the man got behind the chest and started pushing it towards the edge. It wasn't that large, after all, and Varen was a surprisingly strong man.

“Subtlety be damned.” he grunted with effort as he pushed it forward another inch or so. “This thing,” he huffed and shoved it past a somewhat slick patch, gaining almost half a foot. “is not going to stymie me any more.” With a snarl, Varen gave the chest a final shove. The wooden chest toppled over the edge of the recess and tumbled down to the hard stone floor below. The chest landed with a crunch, the top lid striking the ground first. Miles jumped down to the floor and rolled to absorb his momentum before rising to his feet and walking over to see what was in the chest.
The trunk was heavy indeed, it might even have given an indication of having something very good inside. As the wooden top struck the rocks below there was a distinct sound of breaking glass. The lock still held, but the rusted hinges had given away with the drop and the trunk was able to be examined. The wood was sturdy but flammable, if someone could pry the metal off of it, the strips might make for some kind of use.

Inside the chest was more clothing, brightly colored dresses and a long heavy wool cloak that was soft and warm. There was a robe that looked fitting for a royal human to wear, it was blue and gold and had fancy embroidery on it. Packed amidst the clothing had been several glass bottles of red and blue liquid. At least one bottle had shattered with the impact, it might have been on top. The sticky syrup of a healing potion was all over the top dress as well as shards of glass. There were seven bottles of red healing potions and four of a blue color normally associated with mana potions. They appeared to be of good quality.

There was also a sewing kit consisting of a packet of needles a sharp pair of scissors and an assortment of threads. A silver dagger with a jeweled hilt, and a mirror with a brush and comb were also in the trunk.
“Forget it, Erani,” Ascul said when there was no reply to his sister’s call. “I don’t think anyone can hear you.”
Ascul looked over the area; there was another source of light coming from somewhere. If they could follow it, it could be their way out. He pushed himself to his hooves and as he stood, he believed he could make out the source of the light. “Come, Erani. I think I see something.”
Erani turned to look toward what her brother was staring at. How had she not noticed that light before? Following her brother, the two Draenei stumbled across the strange candle-lit slab and… People! Ascul frowned. He had somewhat hoped he and his sister were alone. He looked down at his… revealing attire and considered hiding behind a rock somewhere. His sister had an opposite reaction. Thrilled to see other people, Erani brushed past him to greet the others. They consisted of a blood elf, two human girls, a human male, and a fellow Draenei. Ascul was anything but pleased when Erani began to attract attention to them both. Quickly switching to common, she says, "Hello, I am Erani and this is my brrotherr, Ascul. Vould any of jou kind people by chance know vhere ve arre?"
Carinoth turned his head towards the human who asked for there names. "Carinoth." Then noticed two new of them fairly reveling. 'I hate life. I truely do.' Carinoth thought as he face palmed himself. "I hate people..." Carinoth muttered as he removed his hand from his face. He then heard a loud smashing sound and automatically said "Not touching that with a ten foot pole." He then turned on his heel and started walking towards a alcove. "If anyone needs me, I will be in here. Doing stuff, because that appears what we are doing now apparently." He leaned forward with the candle still in his hand so he could see what was in this particular alcove.
Pulling the axe out of the rubble, Throm smile's as he test's it, looking through the ruble once more, he happens upon some much needed materiel's. Grinning he takes the sharpening tool and sits on the edge of the ledge. Looking over the people he smile's" Look for weapons! something is coming as you all know."

Climbing down he gives his axe four or five practice swings and runs his finger down both sides barely putting pressure on it he smile's as a thing layer of his tough skin parts underneath the ax. With another swing he puts it in the sheath. Next he hols out the skinning knife he grunts in orcish" Anyone here need this? " switching to common he repeats his comment and hold out the skinning knife hilt first for anyone to take. He twirls the ax still testing its weight while observing the hook at the bottom of it" Whoever made this must have been a good craftsmen...." he quietly thinks to himself. Motioning at the bag he mutter's" Anyone need some thread or needle?". Sighing to himself, he looks at all the alliance members, annoyed he had to be on his best behavior.
A still body of water lit a ablaze by the waning hours of daylight; a large tree-its leaves quivering with the rhythmic gusts of wind; and a shadowed graveyard in the background-the last gleams of sunlight creating large, twisted shapes from the simple cut stone that lived in the nightmares of children. There was no more suitable place for Xion to try and relax in Stormwind. The worgen crossed legged in a meditative position hummed a ragged, morphed tune from her childhood days in Gilneas her parents might have sung to her. Onlookers might have found this strange performance from the death knight disturbing even perhaps morbid, but Xion could care less, if it helped her get her mind off war-off fighting-even for a fleeting moment she would do it.

This sickness-this curse-was pushing her ever towards a darker, bloodier path and even with her druidic sister researching, experimenting with different hypothesis nothing had changed that. She tried to tell Sylvona that nothing could change her state, if there was a cure someone would have found it already and maybe there would be a little less danger in this world, but she just stubbornly kept her free time occupied with researching for days in the Stormwind Library.

Xion sighed, the sun was now merely a sliver of a blood stain on the horizon of the world and Stormwind was now wrapped in the grey cloak of twilight. Soon it would be completely dark and only the scarce flame flickering light of the torches would light the city. Xion would lose herself to the darkness, liking to pretend this was some sort of sleep though she knew all too well she was bitterly awake. This little curse had also robbed her of any sort of carnal rest since years ago when her soul was wrenched back from the nether and tied down to this dead body.

Trying to lose herself within her humming, Xion felt a large throb hit the left side of her head and she was out. Is this the final sleep?, she thought as the true darkness seeped in.


Sylvona walked back to her home her black hair tied neatly in a braid to keep it out of her verdant eyes that were at the moment furiously digging through the book on alchemic research on the undead at the moment. Her brisk stride was leading her towards the outskirts of Stormwind where a small sturdy house was built on the shoreline of Stormwind’s Lake where you could even clearly see the Earthen Shrine set up on an island at the center of the lake.

Upon entering her home, she gave a deep sigh as she saw the mess her sister had left it in: the pieces of her armor were strewn all over the house and the hair, “Living with Xion, is like living with a gigantic worg that drops a pile of hair all over the house each day!” she mumbled to herself as she grabbed the broom. After about an hour, Sylvona looked pleasingly upon her work: she had propped Xion’s armor in the closet next to where her leather robe hung and without no degree of difficulty had dragged Xion’s axe to the corner of the house where she supported her own staff; and most pleasingly to Sylvona all the hair was gone and the wood floors gleamed against the flickering of the dim candles that lit the house.

Pulling off her daily clothes and grabbing her dark green nightgown, Sylvona began her nightly procedure where upon she got dressed, brushed her teeth and hair, and went to bed. Upon moving towards the looking glass and wash pan; in the mirror appeared a young, human women’s pale, if a little pinkish face, with bright green eyes like sunlight dissolving through spring leaves and freckles that decorated her cheeks. Opening her lips revealed a perfectly normal set of white teeth which Sylvona smiled upon, she was quite thankful to the druids of Teldrassil for teaching her that spell so she could stay human, she just couldn't accept that feral thing she nearly became.

After her nightly process was done, Sylvona undid her braid, her smooth black hair cascading down below her shoulder and climbed into her bed. She blew out the candle that stood on her bed stool and prayed to Elune for the protection of her and her sister then fell into an uneasy sleep.


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