The Rebuilding of Quel'Thalas

[Shadowspeak]

The Elf wiped his brow. He loathed the strain of labor and work. The sweat allways ruined his golden hair that he was allways so keen to preparing for the day.

"Don't quit now! Were almost done!" proclaimed the head-mage. All six of the Elves were concentrating hard as they forced the rafters to cling to the green crystal. They had worked hard all day today, trying their hardest to perfect Quel'Thalas and Silvermoon.

When the city was finished, it would be a sight to be held in awe by all other races. The Orcs in their simple huts would be amazed by the architechture and craftsmanship of the Blooelves, and the magic that keeps the very foundations of the city together. The Forsaken would be pleased to see that some can still recover from the devestation of the Scourge, and see with what magnificence and beauty that the struck by with.

"Allright, set it down brothers! Excelent! Another one down."

And with that said, the Elves struggle to rebuild their once mighty nation came a bit closer...

((This is completely open to all who would participate in the rebuilding of silvermoon and Quel'Thalas itself.))

[Gorthok]

*Caspian walked the streets watching the construction crews work. He and his squad were there mainly to keep the workers from squabbling. All around him his fellow Blood Elves toiled to rebuild what the Scourge had decimated.*

Ranger! Report!, came a authority ridden voice.

*Caspian snapped to attention and saluted his Captain*

Ranger Squad Leader Caspian reports this area all secure at this time, Sir! There is nothing unusual to report, Sir!

*Caspian holds his salute until it is returned and then remains at attention.*

At ease, Caspian. How fair your men?

Well enough, Sir. They're eager to finish with guard duty and start patrolling the forest again, Sir.

*The Ranger Captain gives a half smile.*

They'll get their chance in time, Ranger. This is an essential duty for now.

*Caspian gives a short nod*

Understood, Sir. *states Caspian in a matter-of-fact tone that superiors love to hear. Perhaps one day he too would revel in such a response from a subordinate.*

*The Captain spots another squad in the distance*

Carry on Rangers.

Yes, Sir! comes the chorus response from Caspian's squad and himself*

For now they will keep the peace.

[Kazthul]

Kazthul was lost. Off far in the distance he noticed some people rebuilding what looked to be a city. Curious, as he is, Kazthul wandered towards them. He noticed bright shiny balls of glass and various aspects of architecture that appealed to him. A grin spread itself across his face as he stepped closer to this marvelous visual feast.

Until he saw ears. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened as the sight of the vile elf creatures. He had fought them in battle many times before and would not allow them to contine building this eye splendor on horde lands.

"EARS!!!!"

The curiosity faded, his hand darted for the axe lashed against his back and he ran forward full speed, ready for battle.

((Its what Kaz would do.))

[Danyxandra]

The twins, Danyx and Danz walk down a street, examing the progress of the work crews. A construction worker whistles and both sisters turn their heads towards the whistle with a smile. Spotting the handsome worker, Danyx smiles and waves. Danz smiles and walks right into a light pole and smacks her head because she wasn't watching where she was walking. She falls, her sister helps her up with a smirk, and they continue together on their walk about the city.

[Sorchea]

Among the workers and Overseers walked a priestess clad in a sky blue robe and cowl. She reached out and touched each worker as she walked by, giving minor heals and blessings. They bowed their heads to her in deference. None tried to stop her but a few gave small and silent cringes. They knew the beautiful face under the hood. It was the Priestess Sorchea; she had been around as long as any could remember, an Elder. But lately the touches she so freely bestowed had become lingering and strange. Out of respect though, they kept along with their work and said nothing.

Sorchea made her way to all of the active construction sights, pulling her hood down lower. She didn’t want anyone to the faint smile that bloomed on her full lips at every small spell she cast. She didn’t anyone to see her have to grip a banister as she pass to keep from falling while she rode out the waves of pleasure that came from the mana swirling around her. She clutched at her skirts, threw back her head and laughed.

[turen]

Guenvala...[i]

The name had rang through his thoughts for months now Elthias thought as he made his way towards the ruins of Silvermoon. Now, at last, his journey may be at an end. He knew he was close, and though it almost physically pained him to do so he felt a touch of hope as the heartbreakingly ravaged forestland was begining to give way to lush green and sunshine. He drew his sword, still stained red with human blood. He briefly recalled the human he had killed. A Paladin, who had saved his life. Even taught him some of the skills a Paladin must posess. He had been a friend, untill word of Elven treahery had reached the humans ears. Elthias shuddered as he recalled the struggle at their camp that had resulted in the humans death. A terrible end to an otherwise great man.

Elthias' thoughts were interrupted as he reached a clearing. The sight he beheld made his jaw drop. Before him lay the skyline of a half eradicated Silvermoon, eclipsing the sunset. It looked not half destroyed, however, as half built. In fact, his keen eyes observed movement of hundreds of elves, all engaged in tasks of construction.

Elthias gave a cry of joy as he sprinted to the city. He ignored the words of others as they greeted him, some even demanding to know who he was. He had to know. He navigated the familliar streets untill he came to his old home. He hesitated for a moment before charging through the door. His home had been ransacked, but not destroyed.

"Guenvala!" Elthias shouted, desperately wishing to see his wife. His wife, and the bearer of his unborn child...

That is when Elthias came upon it. His bare foot stepped on something hard. Moving it and examining the floor he found a special ring, Guenvalas Wedding Ring, in the center of a huge brown stain on his tiles. Dried blood.

She was dead. She would never have removed the ring. His wife, his child...the joy of his life. Gone. His heart felt as if it would burst with pain. He looked down to his bloodied shortsword. He should have let the Paladin slay him. Better yet, he should have died at Dalaraan. It would have been less painful. Ah, well. He knew of a way to see them again. But not here.

Grimly, he left the house and navigated the streets. He would die where he met his love. He just hoped it still flowed. After an while, he found it. The fountain where his life had been given meaning. Distantly he was aware some elves were following him, even trying to talk to him, but he did not care. He stared into the waters, trying to imagine the face of his beloved. He found only his desperate, ragged face staring back at him.

He turned around, unable to face himself, only to find the same expression on the elves around him. He realized his folly in taking his own life. These people had likely suffered as much, if not more than he. Horrified at what he had intended to do, he threw his sword away. He looked back into the waters of the fountain.

His world had been destroyed. Anyone he had ever cared for was dead. In a sense, so was he. Why, then, did his heart still beat?

The answer dawned on him. He lived for his people. They suffered, he would ease it. Silvermoon was still fragile, it would take many lifes to see it restored. Lives much like his.

Elthias closed his eyes plunged his head into the mana enriched waters of the fountain. Nowhere near the strength of the Sunwell, but it was perhaps the most refreshing feeling of his life.

He emerged refreshed, even the sorrow that had nearly driven him to suicide had dimmed somewhat. He opened his eyes and brilliant green light that would outshine a star exploded out of them.

He would see his Guenvala again. But not yet. Not yet...

[Skafloc]

Skafloc entered the newly finished south gate that lead in from Everlook Forest to the restored half of Silvermoon City. To his immediate left, he saw the Scar, that devastated no man's land that separated the fresh, new restored eastern half of the once great city from the devastated, empty ruins of the western half.

His heart tore at him to see the filthy stark landscape of this city, once the shining jewel of Azeroth.

http://www.worldofwarcraft.com/insider/10/images/ss1.jpg

Yet, the sight of the bright avenues of the new city, the bustle of activity from the myriad of returning Sindorei who already started to set up their businesses have him hope. "Life endures.." thought Skafloc. "Arthas tried, but bit by bit, piece by piece, we are returning. Magic already flows through the avenues." Around him Skafloc saw the flow of citizens, many of them pretty young women to whom he flashed his most dazzling smile, more often than not resulting in shy giggles, but the occasional sly wink or openly seductive gaze were the ones he lingered over, asking for names and the promise of a rendezvous sometime later.

Moving into the city he passed some of the construction crews hard at work. The buildings were already taking magnificent shape. In the distance he could see the high silouette of the new Royal Tower.

http://www.worldofwarcraft.com/insider/10/images/ss2.jpg

Skafloc stopped a foreman to ask directions to the new Hunter's Hall. It was time he reported in to the trainers being established there. His new master would be expecting him to accompany him afield, and Skafloc was out of practice after so long managing the estate's affairs.

[Morgauth]

Morgauth was humming to himself, now and then breaking out into actual words, but mostly just syllables.

"Bum bum bum, da dum dum dum, hmm hmm hmm..."

A sudden glint of light caught his attention and he grew silent. He was wandering more or less aimlessly along the edge of the ruined city, getting some exercise. His new body was performing fabulously, but it never hurt to stay sharp.

He was drawn to the sounds of construction, and turned to walk down one of the reconstructed streets, past the workers, past the new shops and taverns. Ignoring the admiring stares of the women, and men, he passed, Morgauth juggled a pair of daggers as he walked, tossing them up behind his back and catching them in front of himself, at waist level.

He spotted two familiar figures ahead.

"Ah ha!" he said. "The twins!"

He broke into a blinding sprint, becoming nearly invisible as he ran, arriving just in time to see Danyxandra help Danzrielle up from the sidewalk after bumping into the pole.

"Ladies!" he said, bowing to them. "May I buy you a cream soda? There's a new shop just down the way that sells them, mana-infused, with a dark, swirling center! They are deliciously wicked!"

He glanced between the two of them, his eyebrows raised slightly, his body language making it clear that he expected them to accept his offer.

[Danyxandra]

Danzrielle starts to smile, her mouth parted about to respond when Danyxandra deftly wedges herself between them and takes Morgauth's offered arm. "Why yes, my Baron, a cream soda would be just rakkan," she finishes the sentence in demonic.

Danyxandra gives Morgauth a sultry smile. Danzrielle looks confused, shrugs, then scurries to Morgauth's other side to walk beside them.

[Morgauth]

Morgauth's eyes widened with pleasure.

"You speak demonic!" he exclaimed, beaming a perfect smile at Danxyandra. "Me, ze xi daz maez laz rakkan!" ((No, it is you that are divine)). "Daz orah ze buras aman!" ((You make my heart sing!))

He pressed his arm closer to his side, squeezing Danxyandra's hand. As Danzreille took his other arm, Morgauth smiled at her as well, and he proceeded down the street, a twin on each arm.

[Skafloc]

The Royal Exchange was busy. Merchant shops were being well established and here and there were temporary kiosks set up for vendors still awaiting their lease requests to be cleared, or their facilities to be ready.

Skafloc browsed the market area before continuing onwards to the Hunter's Hall. He enjoyed hunting for bargains almost as much as hunting for real prey, or female companionship.

About 25 minutes later Skafloc resumed his walk to the Hunter's Hall, arms laden with some sticky buns for the next day's breakfast at the manor and a new set of Wyvern hair bowstrings.

As he passed the crowds of the Royal Exchange, he took the time to admire the architecture of the surrounding buildings. Very much inspired by the old style, yet boasting a new vibrant feel.

As he glanced up, he caught sight of a shimmering golden cascade of gorgeous hair, framing an exquisitely shaped face. Skafloc paused in his stride to look up at that wonderful face. She was looking down at the crowd from a window some ways up. Her gaze driften across the square slowly inching towards his direction. He readied his most dazzling smile for when her sultry eyes washed over him.

To his disappointment, he saw her close a set of silken blue curtains just before she looked in his direction. Skafloc sighed, but took note of the address and the window. He would learn the name that belonged to that face, and where she frequented.

Skafloc continued on his way, whistling a jaunty tune and with a spring to his step.

[Shadowspeak]

He frowned.

"They even burnt down ol' howlers kennel."

Sevarith was most displeased. His sisters house was once a glorious peice of work... until of course the legions of numberless, festering Undead that came to end all life 'visited' into their homeland.

The sight before him was his sisters house. They only thing that remained where the large building once stood was a charred remain of the building frame, a crushed peice of fencing in the back, and a doorway leading downstairs into the basement.

"Hm. Looks like the foundation is allright..." The Forsaken took a closer look at the demolished building. "But.. unfortunatly other than that, the building is demolished... and.." his eyes moved slowly to the basement door. "Ahh... seems the basement remains allright... or at least I hope. lets see what i-"

"Don't worry about it." the Bloodelf next to him said. Xri was quite an Elf... his voice was hard and rough like the rest of the Blackhold family. "Flae put that lock on herself... it's not coming off anytime soon, not without her permission."

"...Well, where is she?"

The Elf shrugged. "Last I saw she was walking the streets looking for a bit of 'fun', which would mean one of two things- Men or magic."

The Forsaken sighed and looked down at the padded door at his feet, soon a large mallet hitting his chest.

"Well, time to work." Xri stated.

"...I'm allways working..."

[Hellista]

Hellista watched the people from her window, wondering what stories each of them had. She was now of age to be out in the world, and although young, was smarter than most of her little friends. Quel'Thalas had been rebuilt, and this young woman had several ideas on how to find her place in the new world. She sipped some wine and walked out of her house, peering at her neighbors and wondering what the day might bring.

"Hopefully," she thought to herself, "I will be able to get into some pleasurable decadence...."

[Lupen]

Lupen sat atop a newly reconstructed Mage's Tower, pulsing with magical defenses. He tried not to allow any to spot his unholy visage. The Warlock cloaked himself heavily in Felcloth, bringing with his usual gear, he carried a small, folded, wooden board, with an attacked silk bag. The contents of the bag shook together, striking gently, generating soft cracking noises. The Warlock sat upon an oak stool on the tower's balcony, overlooking the city-in-progress. Many elf workers constructing the brilliant, mana-etched structures. Unfolding the board, Lupen placed it upon the nearby table. The board was slightly weathered, cracked, yet neatly painted upon the checkered surface. Opening the bag, he brought forth each small model... Pawns, Rooks, Knights, Bishops... Kings and Queens. The black set was facing toward him, white away. The Warlock smirked and awaited the first move.

[Hellista]

Hellista sat down quietly at the table and smiled at Lupen. He was undead, but Hellista didn't seem to be bothered at all by this. She grinned wickedly and moved a knight forward two spaces and then to the right, beginning her game boldly.

Chess was something that Hellista enjoyed thoroughly. She had played since she was old enough to move the peices, and seemed to be really good at it. It didn't matter that she had help. Elmore, her ghostly friend, had taught her the game, and often sat in on her matches to help her win. She won more often than she deserved to, and every once in a while thought of it as cheating. But it wasn't cheating in her mind. Everyone else just needed to learn to speak with the dead.

"Good morning," Hellista said in her liquid voice. "I was hoping to find someone here. My name is Hellista, and I'll be defeating you today."

Hellista looked at Lupen, and then at her surroundings. She was going to love getting out and about.....

[Lupen]

The Warlock placed his left hand upon the dark pawn directly atop the bishop. "King Indian's Attack..." Lupen began, monotone, "...yes, I had used it for some time. It allows the pawns to prepare a defensive stance, yet it gives you little early assault power." The Warlock's temples throbbed, his nostrils flared... Something was nearby, some feeling in the Nether... Not great, but present...

Staring the Elf directly into her eyes, she embodied what the Forsaken hated... Elves... Permiscuity, greed... Deception. His eyes and hand remained unwavering for moments. Ever since his prophetic truths of the Nether, viewing the Blood Elves coming from the ashes, the Exodar falling from the Great Dark Beyond, the world was ever changing... In a matter of such short time, Silvermoon seemed nearly ready for War once more. The Warlock remained steadfast, not allowing the knoweldge that, if by desire, he had left the Third Dark to her devices, this city would not stand, the Crusade would already be turning Azeroth to ash... Lupen, Xarian, everything, to very dust of what it was.

Deftly, slowly, the Arch-Dread Mage moved his pawn one square forth. "Arch-Dread Mage Lupen Vakov, Soulreaver of The Grim. Greetings."

[Ehlina]

Ehlina watched as the people scurried around like ants performing tasks for a queen. The city was beautiful, and she was amazed at just how lovely the architecture and design were. The rebirth of this place made Ehlina feel good inside, for she felt as though she were being reborn as well. She was leaving her home and was going to make her way in the world as a respected Blood Knight. She would leave behind the squabbling family that she grew to distrust over the years, and things would be all better now.....

[Aislana]

Aislana woke to sunlight streaming into her room. Rising out of bed, she pulled on a simple woolen robe before moving to the large window to gaze outside. The reconstruction of the city went well and every day less destruction was visible. Sadly she could not say the same of her own villa. Her own bedroom was fine; she had had that inhabitable within days of returning to the ruined city. Sighing she descended the ladder connecting her bedroom to the lower inner courtyard and moved into the small kitchen that had been her priority when repairing and salvaging her families city villa. She really needed to contact the ironworks guild about replacing the wrought iron stairs to the second floor. She was sick of that ladder.

As she stood in the courtyard sipping her morning drink, she reflected on the past few years. Until the scourging of Quel’thalas and the annihilation of her people at the hands of both the Lordaeron Prince and that human general, she had been in ranger training and happy. Skills hard-won stagnated as she struggled to rebuild what had once been a prosperous and influential family. But with only herself and the family’s lands in ruin, all she could do was try and salvage the villa she was in and struggle to rebuild alliances with other houses and courts within the city.

Aislana began to shake ever so slightly as her body called out for the magic lost and she nibbled on a mana enriched biscuit, calming herself.

She finished her drink and surveyed the house around her. Now that the kitchen was finally finished and she had some funds available, she could finally begin having the lower level rooms off the central courtyard refurbished and restored. She began to make a mental checklist of things needed for the baths; she would have to visit her factor in the city. With the bank rebuilt and her father’s records in meticulous order, she needed to reclaim some of the funds lost. As she wandered towards the curtained doorway leading to the baths, new doors were a priority, she heard the chime of the front bell; why had that of all things survived?

Cursing the lack of house staff, she moved through the inner courtyard door to the outer entranceway and lifted the heavy bar holding the door closed. Opening it she spotted a boy dressed in courier gear, holding a thickly padded envelope. She took it, and closed the door to his open palm; she didn’t have money for courier tips right now after all.

She returned to her room, tossing the envelope on the table and forgetting about it as she made ready to visit her factor. Restoration of the baths and the rest of her first floor would begin today before anything else. A visit to the stonemasons, the carpentry guild, the magic quarter were also on her list. She would also need to find someone to redo the frescoes that used to adorn several of the first floor rooms. And the tiles in the entranceway needed replacing badly. That would involve a stop in the artist quarter but she had always liked visiting there anyway.

[Crysa]

((re-write!))

Lissandra walked quietly along the streets of the golden city. She was slightly impressed at the speed in which the city was returning to its former beauty. She'd always loved the city, though she had spent much of the past year away from the forest and her home, trying desperately to wash away her memories.

She sighed and adjusted her dress. She hated dresses, but she knew better then to walk around in braud daylight in her assasin's leathers, daggers out. She lead a double life, Lissandra did.

She nearly bumped into a man with long dark hair, whom seemed to be running an errand of some kind. "Excuse you!" he said, skirting to avoid her.

"He doesn't look to be a noble, probably a house servent of some kind." She thought to herself, flashing a look of appology to the man before moving off the street, towards the inn. It was growing late, and she had a job to do..

http://vanwagnerhouse.com/Lissandra.JPG

[clys]

((she be's cool looking, scary, the way I like's 'em :) ))