Tirdisar
09-12-2006, 09:23 PM
Tir pulled the dagger from his shoulder, wincing from the shock of his blood beginning to flow again. He threw it to the ground, and brought his hand up to the wound. He closed his eyes, and began to gather mana to cauterize the wound shut, crying out as it was seared. He took a weak step forward, his head swimming from the pain.
"Damn... him. How can a sack of bones like him be so powerful?! He brushed my spells aside like they were simple breezes!" He slumped down against a tree, looking up to the grey, clouded sky. He felt tired, but he knew better to fall asleep in Ghostwood, with Scourge and many other manners of beasts that could prey on him. He slowly began to push himself up, but slipped back down to the ground, aggravating his shoulder. His breath came in pants, not from pain, but more from anger. He had failed, and he hated himself for it. His fingers clenched against his palm, almost drawing blood, but he relaxed himself as to again try to rise. That attempt was a success, and Tir began the walk along the Dead Scar back to Silvermoon City.
Tir had spent months tracking Fallacy down. At first, he believed him to be truly dead, but a few mouths let loose the wrong name, "Herenth." It was hard to connect the two, as Fallacy no longer went by that name. However, he had apparently told some his true name, and the trail led him to Tanaris. In the desert, he found a goblin who knew extensively of Herenth, but it was only with his dying breath that he revealed what had become of him. The Watcher is what he called him. Tir had no idea what that meant, but it gave him more of a lead. He only knew of one more person called the same, Baristolth in Cenarian Hold. He couldn't confront the Night Elf directly, so he carefully watched his movements. That was the place where he first saw him. Fallacy had been spending his nights at the Hold for a couple weeks, and, in his meditative state, Tir saw his first chance to strike. It was his first failure. Fallacy was alerted to his presence before he could eliminate him, and Tir was forced to flee. He was far from giving up. Fallacy was clever in covering his tracks, but a quick scry allowd Tir to see his target wherever he went. They confronted again, but Tir managed to keep his identity hidden with an invisibility spell. He wanted to wait for the right moment, the time when he could reveal himself and his purpose: revenge for his sister, Visena. However, he found himself unable to take on Fallacy by himself, faltering every time to take the oppurtunity to exact his vengeance. He had to outsmart Fallacy, to lure him into a trap. So, he used the only footing he had left, his identity. When he let Fallacy know who he truly was and what he had been doing, the Watcher did exactly as Tir planned. He went off to Quel'Thelas.
Yet, it wasn't enough. He never knew Herenth to be much of a fighter, much less one that could absorb spells with his right hand. Tir was a mage, trained by the elite of the Sin'dorei, and it was all for naught. Not to mention, his grandfather would bring his fist down on him for coming home all bloodied up.
The gates of Silvermoon came up to him in a daze. Even though he had sealed and wrapped his wound, he had lost a lot of blood. He took little more than three steps on the white stone before he collapsed.
Tir awoke to the smell of incense burning. His eyes slowly opened, blinking several times to adjust to the light reflecting off the white ceiling. He tried to sit up, but was reminded of his injury as his shoulder began to sting. So, he just raised his head a few inches to look about.
"Oh! Tir, you're awake!" Tir looked to his right to see a female figure bending ovr him. He shot up, ignoring the pain to glare angrily at his sister.
"Visena! You shouldn't be up out of your room! You'll get sick!"
Visena giggled and sat down at the edge of his bed. "Speak for yourself! You could have died!" She leaned over, smirking at him. "So, how many Scourge did you run from?"
He pulled a sheet up to his chest in embarassment. "That... that's none of your business!"
She outrightly laughed at him, and got up to pour some tea from a pitcher set at his bedside. It was hard to tell that she was so sickly, ever since a fisherman had found her half-drowned in Tirisfal. She was so horribly wracked that she had forgotten everything, including what had happened the night she and Herenth had disappeared. It took months for her to regain the ability to speak, and that was only after their parents had died fighting the Scourge invasion. The destruction of the Sunwell had sparked something in her, and she seemed to be completely unaffected by the loss. Since then, they had been living with their grandparents.
Visena handed him the cup and sat back down on the bed. It wasn't until he first took a sip that he realized how thirsty he was.
"I better tell Grandfather you're up. He wanted me to tell him the first chance I got." Tir was dreading that. He knew his grandfather, Colian, would not take it well.
She left him, and, five minutes later, a white-haired man walked in alone. He promptly walked up to Tir and grabbed one of his ears.
"How many times have I told you, you insolent little brat?! Don't go off into the Ghostwood alone! Not only that! You disobeyed me when I told you not to leave the city after your little excursion to Kalimdor!" His grip was tight and made Tir forget all about his shoulder. Even though he was no longer a child, he was in no way free from the judgement of his guardian. He had the whelts to prove that. "You're the heir to the Hawkbrand name, and it's time you uphold that!"
Technically, he was the last surviving member. She didn't know it, but Visena still held Herenth's last name, Absalom. His grandfather released his ear, and he rubbed it to soothe it of the burning sensation that remained.
His grandfather sighed heavily. "You can't go making these stupid mistakes like this, Tir. Ever since your father died, I can't help but see his face in yours. He and your mother gave their lives to save yours, and you think to just throw it away like it's nothing? I don't know how much longer I'll be around, and then it will be up to you to take care of your grandmother and Visena. You don't want to leave them here alone, do you? You've been sleeping since yesterday afternoon, and, this whole time, your sister has been tending to you. She even fell asleep watching you from a sofa."
Tir looked away from his grandfather. This was another thing he hated, the guilt trips he was being put through. He couldn't tell his grandfather the truth because he knew how he would react. He would do nothing. Tir couldn't sit and watch his sister waste away, knowing that Herenth was the cause of it all.
"Stupid human..."
"What was that? What did you just say to me?"
"Ah, nothing, sir. I'm sorry, I won't go off again."
"Good. Now, rest. I have a few visitors coming for dinner tonight, and I don't want you to be a mess when they see you."
"Damn... him. How can a sack of bones like him be so powerful?! He brushed my spells aside like they were simple breezes!" He slumped down against a tree, looking up to the grey, clouded sky. He felt tired, but he knew better to fall asleep in Ghostwood, with Scourge and many other manners of beasts that could prey on him. He slowly began to push himself up, but slipped back down to the ground, aggravating his shoulder. His breath came in pants, not from pain, but more from anger. He had failed, and he hated himself for it. His fingers clenched against his palm, almost drawing blood, but he relaxed himself as to again try to rise. That attempt was a success, and Tir began the walk along the Dead Scar back to Silvermoon City.
Tir had spent months tracking Fallacy down. At first, he believed him to be truly dead, but a few mouths let loose the wrong name, "Herenth." It was hard to connect the two, as Fallacy no longer went by that name. However, he had apparently told some his true name, and the trail led him to Tanaris. In the desert, he found a goblin who knew extensively of Herenth, but it was only with his dying breath that he revealed what had become of him. The Watcher is what he called him. Tir had no idea what that meant, but it gave him more of a lead. He only knew of one more person called the same, Baristolth in Cenarian Hold. He couldn't confront the Night Elf directly, so he carefully watched his movements. That was the place where he first saw him. Fallacy had been spending his nights at the Hold for a couple weeks, and, in his meditative state, Tir saw his first chance to strike. It was his first failure. Fallacy was alerted to his presence before he could eliminate him, and Tir was forced to flee. He was far from giving up. Fallacy was clever in covering his tracks, but a quick scry allowd Tir to see his target wherever he went. They confronted again, but Tir managed to keep his identity hidden with an invisibility spell. He wanted to wait for the right moment, the time when he could reveal himself and his purpose: revenge for his sister, Visena. However, he found himself unable to take on Fallacy by himself, faltering every time to take the oppurtunity to exact his vengeance. He had to outsmart Fallacy, to lure him into a trap. So, he used the only footing he had left, his identity. When he let Fallacy know who he truly was and what he had been doing, the Watcher did exactly as Tir planned. He went off to Quel'Thelas.
Yet, it wasn't enough. He never knew Herenth to be much of a fighter, much less one that could absorb spells with his right hand. Tir was a mage, trained by the elite of the Sin'dorei, and it was all for naught. Not to mention, his grandfather would bring his fist down on him for coming home all bloodied up.
The gates of Silvermoon came up to him in a daze. Even though he had sealed and wrapped his wound, he had lost a lot of blood. He took little more than three steps on the white stone before he collapsed.
Tir awoke to the smell of incense burning. His eyes slowly opened, blinking several times to adjust to the light reflecting off the white ceiling. He tried to sit up, but was reminded of his injury as his shoulder began to sting. So, he just raised his head a few inches to look about.
"Oh! Tir, you're awake!" Tir looked to his right to see a female figure bending ovr him. He shot up, ignoring the pain to glare angrily at his sister.
"Visena! You shouldn't be up out of your room! You'll get sick!"
Visena giggled and sat down at the edge of his bed. "Speak for yourself! You could have died!" She leaned over, smirking at him. "So, how many Scourge did you run from?"
He pulled a sheet up to his chest in embarassment. "That... that's none of your business!"
She outrightly laughed at him, and got up to pour some tea from a pitcher set at his bedside. It was hard to tell that she was so sickly, ever since a fisherman had found her half-drowned in Tirisfal. She was so horribly wracked that she had forgotten everything, including what had happened the night she and Herenth had disappeared. It took months for her to regain the ability to speak, and that was only after their parents had died fighting the Scourge invasion. The destruction of the Sunwell had sparked something in her, and she seemed to be completely unaffected by the loss. Since then, they had been living with their grandparents.
Visena handed him the cup and sat back down on the bed. It wasn't until he first took a sip that he realized how thirsty he was.
"I better tell Grandfather you're up. He wanted me to tell him the first chance I got." Tir was dreading that. He knew his grandfather, Colian, would not take it well.
She left him, and, five minutes later, a white-haired man walked in alone. He promptly walked up to Tir and grabbed one of his ears.
"How many times have I told you, you insolent little brat?! Don't go off into the Ghostwood alone! Not only that! You disobeyed me when I told you not to leave the city after your little excursion to Kalimdor!" His grip was tight and made Tir forget all about his shoulder. Even though he was no longer a child, he was in no way free from the judgement of his guardian. He had the whelts to prove that. "You're the heir to the Hawkbrand name, and it's time you uphold that!"
Technically, he was the last surviving member. She didn't know it, but Visena still held Herenth's last name, Absalom. His grandfather released his ear, and he rubbed it to soothe it of the burning sensation that remained.
His grandfather sighed heavily. "You can't go making these stupid mistakes like this, Tir. Ever since your father died, I can't help but see his face in yours. He and your mother gave their lives to save yours, and you think to just throw it away like it's nothing? I don't know how much longer I'll be around, and then it will be up to you to take care of your grandmother and Visena. You don't want to leave them here alone, do you? You've been sleeping since yesterday afternoon, and, this whole time, your sister has been tending to you. She even fell asleep watching you from a sofa."
Tir looked away from his grandfather. This was another thing he hated, the guilt trips he was being put through. He couldn't tell his grandfather the truth because he knew how he would react. He would do nothing. Tir couldn't sit and watch his sister waste away, knowing that Herenth was the cause of it all.
"Stupid human..."
"What was that? What did you just say to me?"
"Ah, nothing, sir. I'm sorry, I won't go off again."
"Good. Now, rest. I have a few visitors coming for dinner tonight, and I don't want you to be a mess when they see you."