Rorrek

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About Rorrek

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  1. The Gryphon's Quill

    February 16th, Year 625 of the King's Calendar "Passed hath many days since my departure of the Twilight Empire, and the blood upon my swords hath since grown several fold. Difficult was it to step from years long beneath service of their vision, but resolute am I amid this new path. Turned have I steel against aggressors all, those among the Grim and Dread Horde but at the forefront of countless others. Taught must the Horde be that battle against the demons is preferable than to attempt assail our flanks. To dare strike upon the Alliance whilst come is the end times shall carry consequence without equal or quarter. May the Empire rise from their stupor amidst mine absence, lest they succumb to the withering of passivity... That would be as the 'straw death' as spoken of in horror amongst the Vrykul. This war with the Legion shall not end in silence. Even now my weathered gaze glimpses the rising flames of the warring yet to come betwixt the Alliance and Horde thereafter. Foolish as not even the morrow is certain whilst the demonic armies lay siege to Azeroth. Nonetheless, the Banshee Queen will not sit idle once the Legion hath been vanquished. Seek shall she to solidify her reign through military strength as to deny the Horde its reason once return doeth they from the brink of desperation. As Hellscream before her, Sylvanas will seize advantage of this calamity's wake to lay the table anew amid her favor against us. Lose may I myself too easily within the forecasts of wars unbeknownst. Even as the warring before me hath yet to subside. The siege of the Nighthold progresses steadily. Gul'dan, the final remnant of the Draenor campaign, shall be cast down along with the tyrant Elisande. Though, most resilient hath the Spellblades of the Duskwatch proven themselves in defense tenacious of their ancient courts. The dance of their steel is reminiscent of the Spellbreakers of Quel'Thalas. Yet, their isolation hath become their undoing as opposed to the aforementioned. In spite of being experienced and trained throughout the ages doeth the combined forces of Azeroth present such an innumerable number of techniques ne'er before encountered. The longevity of the Nightborne alone shall not afford them haste enough to adapt and prevail. As of late mine own hand hath grown slow as well to adjust and wield that for which I have brought forth unwittingly. Lay had I mine offerings and armaments before the Thorignir once ended was our hunt, and granted was their favor upon me. The armor I bore seemed to at once become enlivened again, the scale and bone of Nithogg's brood inlaid throughout bristling with power. Know did I not how such blessing would manifest, but that discovered demanded awe as the cleavers I hold aloft. Upon one such encounter amid the Royal Athenaeum had my pauldrons discharged fiercely a surge of lightning as though breathed from the drakes of which they were hewn. To be wreathed in storm and hold fire amid my gauntlets... The expedition I had mounted unto Stormheim hath proven well worth the losses of our venture. Soon the Nightwell shall be wrested of the Legion's grasp and thence may we cross the channel again. There those as we may return unto the place of our failure. Retaken may be our pride and avenged the fallen of the Broken Shore ere stormed is the Tomb of Sargeras."
  2. Soldier's Heart

    Katelle knocked upon the door to announce her presence, provided she wasn't shown in by a servant. Brianna held a little black haired girl of about five in her arms, propped up sturdy on her hip. The child rested her head on Brianna's shoulder as her arms clung to the woman's neck. She glanced towards the door at the knock, letting Rorrek see to it. Rorrek glanced back and nodded before proceeding to the door. Walking alongside him was their draenei daughter, Vatya, whose hooves clattered excitedly against the floor. The door was opened to the temporary lodgings and he offered a cordial smile. "Well met." He then stepped aside and gestured for Katelle to follow. However, Vatya had stopped and was staring openly at Katelle's stomach. Katelle offered a smile as soon as she recognized the visage opening the door. "Good afternoon, Rorrek," she greeted warmly. The rogue stepped forward, except for Vatya. Instead, she smiled in amusement down at the little girl. "Hello there. How are you today?" Brianna shifted Emily in her arms as the girl lifted her head, curious of the new person. Her eyes were slightly red rimmed, as if she had been crying, but she was momentarily distracted. Brianna gave her cheek a small kiss before glancing to the group. Rorrek saw the door closed behind Katelle as she stepped inside. Vatya remembered herself then, snapping to attention. Her little hands went behind her back as she swayed from side to side. "I am very good! Thank you!" she says as if practiced. Katelle chuckled. "Good. I'm glad to hear it." She stepped fully inside the quarters and past Rorrek, offering Brianna a smile as well--and a particularly warm one to the black haired girl, though she didn't recognize the child. Brianna grinned at her daughter before shifting her emerald gaze to Katelle. "Good afternoon." "It's good to see you looking well, Brianna. And who is this?" Katelle came a little closer, but was fully cognizant of the fears of young children and strangers. She didn't come too close. Rorrek stepped down and took Vatya's hand in his once more. The little girl clung behind his leg as she watched the guest. "Please, come and sit," he offered whilst motioning to the nearest seat and table. Katelle smiled. "I think I will, thank you." Brianna dipped her head in likewise agreement. "And you." Afterwards, she glanced to the child in her arms. "This is Emily. Say hello won't you, darling?" The little girl glanced to Katelle but, shifted her head shyly and pressed her face into Brianna's neck. She smiled sympathetically. "She's a bit tired," she said as way of explanation. Katelle hummed softly as she lowered herself into the seat, adjusting a moment until she was comfortable. "Of course," she murmured. "It's nice to meet you, Emily. I'm Kate." Vatya tugged on Rorrek's sleeve after Brianna spoke. "Ve played all night, Papa! That is vhy she is tired!" she exclaimed with pride. Emily curiously turned her face to peek at Katelle again, though half of her face was still shadowed. "...hello," she mumbled. Katelle rested a hand on her abdomen, the other on her crossed knee. The rogue made it a point to look as unintimidating as possible. Brianna glanced to Vatya and grinned. "Oh is that why you were so hard to wake this morning!" She laughed softly. Katelle grinned. "-All- night? Truly? My goodness, that's a lot of playing." Rorrek ruffled Vatya's silver hair between her diminutive horns, much to her enjoyment. "Thou sleepest as do I, to thy mother's chagrin." He then chuckled aloud. Brianna lifted a knowing gaze to Rorrek's face but merely chuckled before glancing to Katelle. "Might I offer you some refreshment? A cup of tea perhaps?" "Only if you're fetching some for anybody else. I wouldn't want to be a bother." "Oh, no bother at all. I could use a cup of tea myself." Vatya then ran over to Brianna, seemingly now comfortable with Katelle in the house as well. "Mama, may Emily and I go play now?" She asked sweetly, widening her eyes innocently. Katelle chuckled at the little draenei's beseeching, eyes flicking to Emily. The adults might recognize that she's got a hint of why she's been called. "In that case, I'd appreciate it. Thank you." Rorrek stepped forward after sharing Brianna's gaze. "Come now, allow mine hands to be of use from time to time even if therein dwells not a sword, hrm? I shall fetch the both of thee refreshment." Katelle let out a hearty chuckle. Brianna glanced down to Vatya with a smile. "Aye, of course, doll." She knelt briefly, attempting to sit Emily down so she could go with Vatya, but the small child held on even tighter. "No," she said in a fussy manner. She rubbed Emily's back in a soothing motion, alternating between comforting pats. "Don't you want to go play? You two always have so much fun together." Vatya frowned. "Emily, come and play!" Her face twisted as she thought for a moment, the expression clearing as she came to an idea. "Ah! I vill let you play vith Mama's snow globe if you do!" She grinned as if having triumphed. Emily had seemed intent on clinging to Brianna but the snow globe intrigued her, as she had been eyeing it for awhile. She lifted her head, black curls sticking to her tear stained cheek. "Really?" Katelle did her best to hide her amusement at the girls' bargaining. Vatya nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! That is okay, right, Mama?" She looked up to Brianna with hope in her eyes. Brianna gently sat Emily upon her feet, no longer dealing with resistance as the child was distracted and intrigued. "It is quite alright." She straightened Emily's dress before looking to Vatya. "Just be careful please." Rorrek in the meanwhile, amused with the situation, quietly made around to the far shelf and began rummaging about. He called back as he searched. "Indeed, listen to thy mother, little one." Vatya then took Emily's hand. "Jes, ve vill, ve vill," she said matter of factly. "Come on Emily!" The pair of little girls bounded off towards Vatya's room, out of hearing range of the adults. Brianna watched them for a moment, a smile lingering on her face, though worry crept into her emerald gaze as she turned to Katelle. "Thank you for coming." Katelle dippped her head. "Of course, Brianna. It isn't often I receive a request to meet either of you in your own home." She smiled, but the curl to her lips is shadowed. "That is Mavis Audrapel's daughter, isn't it?" Brianna returned the smile. "Aye, truth be told we do not have time to entertain near as often as we would like." She then nodded softly. "Indeed it is, little Emily. Which is precisely why I wished to speak with you." Rorrek ceased seeking about the shelf as he came to a tall and dark box. From within he withdrew what appeared to be two small teabags. He then turned to the table where a set of saucers, cups, and a kettle rested. The kettle fumed, prepared obviously before the visit. Katelle tipped her head in acknowledgement of the sentiment regarding company. Her smile dropped at Brianna's confirmation, replaced instead with worry. She remained silent, blue eyes on Brianna's green. Brianna glanced towards the children's room, able to hear the squeals of delight through the door. Satisfied they were not eavesdropping, she looked back to Katelle. "Last Sunday, Mavis dropped Emily off for a sleepover with Vatya. He was to return the next day to pick her up... but as you see, she is still with us. I know very little of the man, but I do not think he would abandon her. I fear the worst. Have you by chance, heard from him? I know that you are currently treating him. Perhaps you have some knowledge that could enlighten us as to why he may be delayed?" Rorrek laid the bags of tea neatly within the porcelain cups before seeing the kettle in hand. Steam and an invigorating scent wafted upward as he poured the heated water. Once finished he placed lids upon the cups so that the tea might steep for a time. Katelle pursed her lips, fingers drumming on her swollen belly in concerned agitation. Out of habit, she glanced towards the room the girls disappeared to; once having ascertained yet again that they aren't eavesdropping, she looked back to Brianna. "He confessed to me that he had tried to overdose on the initial brews I gave him. There was not enough there to allow him to do so successfully, but I had not made him aware of that fact. I learned he suffers from severe daytime panic attacks--usually as a result of an abrupt stimulus--and so I instructed him to speak with Aryanna before I would give him anything else that would help him sleep. I did allow him to take a much more mild concoction to take the edge off of his anxiety as the attacks occur, but there was not enough present there to allow a successful overdose as well." "I know he spoke with Aryanna. But she said he did not seem interested in discussing his night terrors or the experiences which may have caused them. He left, and had not yet returned when I spoke with her," Katelle continued. Rorrek eventually lifted one lid and inhaled the billowing scent, such producing a distinctive hint of peppermint. Satisfied, he removed both lids and took both cups by their saucers. He laid the cups upon the table between Brianna and Katelle at last. Katelle offered Rorrek a small smile and a quiet murmur of thanks. She suddenly looked very tired, and reached for her cup with both hands. Rorrek stepped back then. "Pardon the interruption. Such concoction is of a green tea infused with peppermint, a favorite of Brianna's fae companion. Thou may allowest such steep further shouldst thou desire." He then affixed himself to the conversation at hand. "Correspondence hath been sent unto the caravan, but... ne'er may we receive missive in return knowing the Starseer's penchants." Brianna leaned against the table, her brow furrowed in concentrated concern as she listened to Katelle's words. "I see," she began slowly. "Oh, thank you, darling." She gave a brief smile to Rorrek as she lifted her cup of tea and cradled it between her palms. "We have been unsuccessful at all turns thus far." Katelle 's lips thinned a little. "What of a physical messenger?" Rorrek tilted his head to the side. "Dost thou know of the caravan's whereabouts?" Ellaluna perked up, flitting over to sniff at Brianna's cup of tea. A small trilling hum was coming from her chest, almost like a purr -- and she definitely seemed to want to lap at Brianna's drink. "I know it was last traveling about the Isles. But Tuuroto's caravan is hardly an inconspicuous sight." "Searched have I about the isles to little avail regardless. Such venturing is... perilous to say the least. The last I had spoken unto Mavis they made mention of seeing farmlands arable... though, I recall not if ever he mentioned a locale specifically." Katelle glanced sidelong at Ellaluna, and casually reached into one of the pockets of her supple robes. Without making a fuss, she retrieved a few pieces of something and reached across the table to place them at the midpoint. Upon closer inspection, they are the little candies that Ellaluna was treated to the last she visited Katelle with Brianna. Brianna eyed the fae with one raised brow, moving the tea closer to her person. Rejoining the conversation she shook her head. "I do not believe he mentioned such." Ellaluna shifted her reptilian gaze immediately at the crinkle of the candy wrapper and bounded onto the table to quickly snatch one up, open it, and pop one in her mouth greedily. "Ella thank!" she mumble with a mouthful. "Ella is very welcome." Katelle then looked back to Brianna and Rorrek. "I'll see what I can dig up. Somebody is bound to have seen them somewhere." Brianna took a long drink of tea as she glanced to the door of Vatya's room thoughtfully over the brim. After a moment, she looked to Katelle. "I have been hoping. It is getting hard to placate Emily, the little dear. She misses her Father greatly." Katelle finally took a sip from her cup, having held it between both palms as if absorbing its warmth. Her eyes fell shut a moment as she savored the calming taste upon her tongue. Her eyes opened again as she swallowed. "He isn't used to having a child," she murmured. "He hadn't even thought of how Emily would feel if his first attempt had been successful. But even still, he speaks as though he loves her a great deal." "Aye, his love for her is quite palpable... though I was unaware of the severity of his mental stability. I certainly hope... he has not revisited his previous attempt." Rorrek crossed his arms and bowed his head whilst his eyes closed shut. "He spoke with great worry in regards toward whether or not such child would inherit the curse. Assure him did I otherwise." Katelle nodded slowly, mulling over both of their words. "He tries to hide it," she said in response to Brianna's comment. "Though he does not do a very good job of it when asked directly. While I hope the same, I..." Her eyes move back to Vatya's room. "I fear the worst. He knows she would be safe here, else he would not have left her. And as his father has recently passed..." She shakes her head gently, a heavy exhalation puffing from her lips. Brianna reached over, placing a hand of comfort upon Rorrek's arm, as she knew how difficult that conversation must have been for him. She squeezed his arm in silent unity before looking to Katelle. She sighed, deep worry settling into her brow. "She will be safe here, aye. We will do all in our power to see that she remains so, and as happy as she can be. Yet I truly hope our fears are without reason in the end. Was he known to drink heavily?" Rorrek smiled warmly in thanks to Brianna's gesture. He stepped closer to her and wrapped his arm about her waist before laying a kiss atop her cheek. He then returned his gaze forward. "Mayhaps there was matters of import to tend which he could not tell?" Brianna rubbed Rorrek's back absentmindedly as she leaned against him. "Aye, maybe..." The thought trailed off as she turned inward to muse silently. Katelle smiled, the expression equal parts tight--at the faint flickers of memory--and tender--at Rorrek and Brianna's show of affection. She took another fortifying sip of her tea, absently stroking her belly with her free hand. "Not that I recall, regarding alcohol," she murmurs, trying to recall. "And it's entirely possible that there was some urgent matter that required his attention, but I'm not certain. He made sure to check in with me on a semi-regular basis, especially if he needed more doses. I can't imagine his anxiety simply left him." Rorrek sighed. "T'would seem as though naught shall come to fruition immediately. Regardless, such visit is welcome after that as our abrupt summons." He glanced to the room where the children left to play. "Worry do I for her endurance..." Brianna nodded in agreement, worry and guilt clouding her emerald gaze. "She may be young, but she knows something is wrong with each passing day." Rorrek took to stroke Brianna's lower back in comfort, sympathy and understanding lining his stoic features. Katelle nods gently, murmuring "of course" to Rorrek's initial words. She follows his gaze. "Children are resilient, in the long run, but the future may very well be hard for her," she agrees quietly. "But if there is aught I can do, for either of you or her, please let me know." Brianna smiled softly. "Thank you. And I appreciate you asking around to your various contacts. Perhaps --" At the sound of Vatya's door opening, her sentence cut off. "Mama!" Vatya said, running across the room to them. "Ve are hungry." Katelle turned her gaze towards the girl with a wide smile on her face. Her eyes flicked back to Rorrek and Brianna, parental knowing and indulgence plastered across her face. Rorrek gently released Brianna's waist as he turned and knelt before Vatya. "Thou hast brought forth an appetite, hrm?" He poked her stomach which elicited several laughs from the little girl. "Jes, Papa!" Emily followed Vatya, seeming in better spirits as she bounced up to the group as well. She was carrying Brianna's snow globe in her little arms, hugged to her chest. Katelle laughed softly. Her hand pressed tighter against the side of her stomach for a moment, and she took another--final--sip of tea. Brianna glanced down to the children. "Well I'm sure there must be something in this house to feed the two of you," she teased, running a hand over Emily's black hair and then Vatya's in turn. Rorrek gestured for Emily to draw closer before he addressed both of the children. "Say farewell now to our guest." He smiled broadly and leaned back slightly so that the both of them could look at Katelle. "Goodbye, babylady!" they said in unison with giggling voices. He blinked afterward. Katelle laughed. "Before I go--the little one is feeling restless. Would they be allowed to feel some kicking?" Brianna grinned, taken slightly aback at their shared nickname. "Of course!" Vatya and Emily stepped forward cautiously. They both set their hands on the bump of Katelle's stomach for a moment, waiting. Eventually, after a felt kick, they shouted slightly and ran back behind Rorrek as he stood. There they burst into laughter together. Katelle grinned, rising slowly after the girls fled. Brianna laughed in amusement, an endearing warmth spreading across her face. "How far along are you now?" she asked curiously. "Into the seventh, or close to it." Emily whispered to Vatya, though it wasn't really a whisper at all. "It's in there! Just trapped in there! I felt it!" Rorrek glanced to Brianna with a nod. He then stepped forward and offered Katelle his arm in preparation for ascending the short flight of stairs before the door. Brianna laughed, overhearing the children, but nodded to Katelle. "Not too long now then." Katelle shook her head. "Too long, and not long enough," she laughed again. She took then Rorrek's arm with a smile, and turned that smile on Brianna as well. "Thank you for having me. Don't be a stranger, hm? We'll keep in touch." She looked back to the girls. "Have fun, ladies!" Each girl chimed in unison, "Bye bye!" Brianna dipped her head in respect and then lifted it with a smile, "Aye, we shall. And thank you again."
  3. The Gryphon's Quill

    January 27th, Year 625 of the King's Calendar "Laid have I the tattered banner retrieved of Vrekt atop the sullied sands of Helheim ere taking leave final of that horrid underworld. May such honor and appease those souls dragged toward their doom beneath the waves. Helya is slain and defeated before the hosts of Odyn, the Valarjar unfettered to roam and wreak havoc upon the Legion as long desired. Though remain doth the Kvaldir might perhaps their taint be culled entirely upon distant morrows without the hand of their cruel mistress at play. May ne'er I need venture unto such a tenebrous realm again... Of course, such is but a fool's hope. Ne'er ending is the battlefield and always shall it be. Mayhaps shift shall the shape and reason, but ne'er may its hunger be abated. Begun hath the siege of Suramar. Loth am I to endeavor amid yet another grand conflict, but comfort may I hold with Brianna at my side. Vital was she unto the shoring of mine endurance throughout the dwindling skirmishes of the desperate Helarjar. Yet, therein was mine hand authority and guide against the drowned droves as opposed to the ignorance I shall afford among the Nightborne throng. Lend must I confidence and faith unto the experience of my beloved for whom hath toiled as the dusk lily embodied amidst such city in cause for the Nightfallen. Such battlefield newfound shall require much forethought and a reconstitution of my preparedness. I am but a man of steel and rune for which turn must I unto mine armaments in this hour of composing. Mine armor, wrought of the Valarjar and bestowed upon me, boasts magnificence otherworldly in make. Yet, tolerate may I not such reliance of generosity forever. Begun have I as of late the drafting of plans anew to be forged. Pondered is how one as I may ever redouble my prowess as to match the hammer of Helgar himself... Perhaps incorporate shall I method to gain favor with the vaunted Thorignir? Broken hath the Drekirjar their ancient pact, but the blessings of the stormflight remain for those proven willing. Armor imbued with such may very well exceed mine expectations. My thoughts return toward the brood of Nithogg and their foulness which taints the storm. See shall I to the rallying of a band of mortal Valarjar as myself as to poach stormscale and bone from their like. Need shall I to procure lodestone sufficient as to fend their lightning from us. Such musings remain distant and write must I now upon that which currently prevails. The Empire... Ne'er before I have been compelled to writ of mine order before this day. My disillusionment toward the Empire hath grown tremendously since Brianna departed its ranks, and blame her may I not. Happiness renewed dwells within her sway and voice since then. At least for that am I gladdened. Reside doeth noble hearts of deeds great within the Empire, but refute may I not that my gaze of the vision hath changed. Waver hath my conviction gradually since the Empire nigh erupted unto civil war years before, and thereafter hath disheartening occurrences but mounted. The events regarding the Grim but exacerbated such doubts immensely. Afflicted is the Empire with an idleness which borders upon stagnation. For all my years amidst the Empire may I speak not of the purpose of the 'Councilors' which hath presided o'er all since antiquity. Abdicate had the Empress that as her position long ago and yet naught hath changed since. Always hath the path leaders interacted with and governed most the peoples of the Empire. Still, embers alone art not enough when the pyre hath begun to dim. The individuals of the Empire accomplish much in their scattered endeavors, but the order certainly is without guidance singular and efforts concentrated. Is it enough to merely proclaim one's self toward the notion of peace? Long hath overtures and mobilization ordered been absent of the Empire and such sloth but affords malefactors their due. Condoned now openly is the hunting of the Grim and yet it would seem to mine eyes that betwixt Brianna and I hath the most Dread Horde blood been spilt. Grow do I ever more restless with the passing of each day. My love hath always been as a soothing balm to my worries and wounds. Yet, realize had I not how merely her presence alongside me had dulled these grievances with the Empire's state as well. How long shall I last without her?"
  4. The Gryphon's Quill

    December 8th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar "Balance precariously doeth the world upon the brink of annihilation, and yet still amidst these darkest hours doth crawl carrion opportunists and cowards within the shadows. Those craven Horde which wallow beneath the piteous dogma of 'the mandate' hath sought to impale dagger unto the Alliance whilst vulnerable. Such is not wholly unexpected as well known is the ignorance and depravity of the Grim. And yet, to hear word of so many others that would willingly attempt to sabotage the waning strength of Azeroth alongside them... Such news is both dire and troubling. The creed of vermin is as always to wound the innocent and proclaim victory. To assail hearth and family when cast art the eyes of the world toward an uncertain future. Only then may they posture and feign strength. Again incompetent hath proven the Horde whether such be the inability to hold their lines or to keep their lowest rabble in check. Etched to memory art the banners and names so brazenly laid about our homes of this 'Dread Horde Coalition,' and none shall be shown mercy. Animals rabid which one may turn not their back unto, even whilst stared down is foe innumerable amidst the Legion, lest one suffer injury treacherous. The putrid hemorrhage of the Grim and their ilk must be cauterized ere bled out is our will with which to stave the demons. And yet, divert may I not overly from the course which is presently true. Rage still doth the battle beneath Haustvald with nary a reprieve upon the gloom ridden horizon. Begin falter hath mine endurance with each venture unto the sickening depths of Helheim. Merely glancing upward unto the ceiling of waves from the fathoms below stared is enough to make turbulent my nerves. Envision do I upon such submerged canvas to glimpse the downward faces of drowned men. At least onward hath pressed the campaign unto Suramar... or so those as we had hoped. Unforeseen was such disaster laid upon the elven vanguard whilst so near was the Nighthold. Gladdened am I that caught not was Brianna amid the foul chronomancy which hath halted the combined armies altogether. Mine heart nigh ceased beating when unable was I to seek contact immediate with her after the incident, she kept busied with the mending of wounded amid Shal'Aran. Naught could stifle my lamentation nor fury were fate ill to befall her. She and Vatya remain my sole sanctuary betwixt these intervals of anger and weariness. This tiredness pervades unto my very soul, let alone the sinews and bones which gird it. However, I suppose none shall be the wiser whilst clad is my form now within armaments radiant and anew. Indeed, ne'er thought that I would be adorned with such lengths of filigree and artistry. Ponder do I whether it shall be the blood of the Helarjar or the Horde to first stain this armor. I cannot claim either path foremost with certainty. Rigid hath grown the joints of the Ymirjar vestments I once bore against the onslaught of icy tides, runes throughout dulled as if long eroded. The wards dispersing magics hath faded. Well had such plate withstood the realm of Helya, but perhaps known were the Dragonflayer engravings therein as once serve did the folly King Ymiron to summon the Naglfar. Inquired had I unto Requisitioner Ulfsson as toward that the armory of the Skyhold could spare in lieu of retreating from the struggle for stay lengthy upon the forge in pursuit of restoring my weathered armor. Astonished was I to learn of armaments prepared beforehand by the Master Smith for which I was thence directed unto. It would seem Helgar had anticipated such outcome as this. Once more I am shown forging beyond my ken as such craftsmanship now worn stands without equal. Layered beneath the wondrous plates of gold and bronze art sheets of mail resembling dragonscale. Runes unfamiliar and stones of power art laid amongst the remaining breadth, wings ornamental jutting from gauntlet to pauldron. Defy shall this armor demonsteel, engravings and gems to ward magics exceeding the runesmithing for which I am capable assuredly. Lend must I offering soon unto Helgar for such armor befitting the Valarjar themselves. Writing of the Master Smith recalls to my brow the quiet glances of his toward the cleavers I wield, as if gaze did he with interest renewed. Fiercely hath smote the runes and handles of both as of late when come is battle. Mayhaps he shall finally speak and reveal that he knows of these weapons that the forge saw fit to bestow unto me? There is much yet to muse upon. Temper shall I my wrath unto edge honed and naught shall impede mine hand, be they Kvaldir or Coalition."
  5. A Grim Assault; The Mandate Rises

    There was unease among the warriors of the Skyhold. Whilst his form descended to the platform of Dalaran the Knight pondered the glares he had seen cast betwixt the various races that comprised the mortal warbands of the Valarjar. He had not seen such contempt since the warring reignited between the factions throughout Stormheim. He had been entrenched within the seemingly never ending conflict within Helheim for some days when not fending off roving groups of Kvaldir from the coasts of the Broken Isles. He had been away for too long. Something was amiss and the ripples of outrage echoed throughout the streets of Dalaran. From the landing Rorrek walked with a wary observance about his stern demeanor. He noted that the guard about the mouth of the Horde sanctuary had nearly doubled. The Kirin Tor was about in force upon the streets as if to dissuade any abrupt conflict from arising. The tension was not unlike the mistrust and hate which erupted after the tragedy upon the Broken Shore. He hastened his pace to the Greyfang Enclave. There the warrior would find answers to fuel his rage.
  6. The Gryphon's Quill

    November 18th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar "Long since sacked was the meager village of Vrekt upon the southern reaches of Stormheim, and yet there sighted were sails rotted of the Kvaldir amid mists roiling o'er the waves. Desire doth Helya souls anew to replenish the forces of Helheim whilst they art besieged. As though with trawl doth the Helarjar lurk upon the shores so to seize the unwary for such purpose. Seek doth our warbands to intercept these spiriting ships, lest the conflict of the Valarjar draw further on. Dissipate had the fog ere our arrival and discover did we hardly that expected... Strewn about the village ruins were remains belonging unto a platoon of the Gilneas Brigade. Perhaps their troop had sought to reinforce the warden tower o'erlooking Hafr Fjall, thus severing Dreadwake's Landing from the Great Sea? Nevertheless, naught remained of their number and such was slaughter total. Only I remained whilst the others of our warrior band departed to return unto the fray. Worgen to the last and flitted with Forsaken bolts throughout. Plague canisters littered the upper dwellings, to which venture thither did I not. Clearly was the position of the undead upon the high cliffs o'er the village in ambush should attempt the Gilneans such maneuver upon their flank. Amongst the corpses did most appear congregated about the lower cliffs which divided the village, seeking obviously reprieve from the fusillade above. And yet... retreat did they not unto the shore and beyond the range of the Queensguard. Thither could they have fallen back so to return from whence they had come, and yet the bodies appeared resolute to approach not the waters. Mystified was I for only moments until noticed were the faded imprints upon the sands of feet and chains. Clumps of seaweed and debris choked the harbor. Markings upon the beach as though dragged were bodies to the sea... The Kvaldir. Caught were these soldiers betwixt pincer of the Helarjar and Queensguard, the former most likely having sailed unto the situation with relish for the opportunity. Stare did these people unto their final stand, assuredly to their horror. I am gripped with empathy and pity as glimpsed have I from hopelessness before as well. Always hath fate spared me from such ends. Such mercy did not befall their defense, and now ended is their legacy far from home. One seemingly survived longer than his compatriots. Drag marks from the middling of the village unto the eastern cottages led onward my intrigue. Therein was found a lone footman, cursed as his brethren. Lean did his body upon the farthest wall whilst slumped and laden with arrows upon him. Slung against the crook of his shoulder was a tattered banner. Surely the standard of his platoon. The lion insignia was faint and aged, the pole attached riddled with tally marks and etchings of the like. Recognize could I many initials of battlefields for which I have known. I ponder now the number of conflicts such banner hath born witness to, the myriad of hands which carried such aloft into war. In truth do I hold little love for Gilneas. Yet, blame them can I not for their ire against the Forsaken. Agree do I that come shall time for the Banshee to meet justice for those as her crimes. Now is not that time and their current struggle but weakens our world, misguided and foolish. Still... they were Alliance. Linger could I not much longer and so lay did I their bodies to the torch. Taken were the tags which remained and given were these to the commander at Greywatch. Relinquish have I not the banner. Distanced have I myself from the crown and kingdom since our loss upon the Broken Shore. Regardless of thy current pursuit must we remember that from which we come. Bring shall I this banner unto battle in honor of the fallen and to bolster the morale of those in likewise straits. Mayhaps such sight shall guide those led astray in conflicts petty toward where the true battle lies. Of course, to wield such standard in hand would be cumbersome. Stricken am I with thought and imagery resembling form of the Blademasters belonging unto the Burning Blade. Carry would such warriors the banner of their clan atop their backs. To mirror such would have once repulsed me, but long since have I begun to coat my cleavers with blazegrease already. Most effective is such abrupt eruption of flame upon steel to stagger thine opponent. Reside doeth there no shame in appropriating the techniques learned of thy foes. See shall I to fittings upon my back plate at once."
  7. The Gryphon's Quill

    November 15th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar "Have at thee," spoke Odyn and still doth mine ears ring. Ne'er before have I heard any voice as thunder resound, yet as well be laden with tone mirthful. Swear do I to have felt laughter bellow throughout such chamber whilst smote upon us was storm and fire unending. As merely breeze persistent were those as we among the footfalls of the All-Father despite all spellcraft and formations stout; however, met was the expectation laid before us at least. Mighty indeed is the witchcraft of Helya to imprison such a being. As but one amongst many was our warband, group comprised of individuals countless that had sought the blessings of Valor. Sentinels Stormforged held at bay the masses which awaited trial their own as pass did our number unto the Ephemeral Way. To be thrust forward atop bridge rune conjured whilst having become as light incarnate, ferried with all haste to rival any trepidation felt. It is a sensation for which I have grown accustom, fortunately. Need wait had we warriors of the Skyhold for many an outsider present to regain their composure before come unto was the Hall of Glory. Thereafter was weathered the trial and thus amused the Prime Designate, blessing granted to sally forth within the lair of our foe. Infused still with vigor brimming was stormed the tombs of Haustvald and sundered the Kvaldir which awaited. Though rise did they once cloven would halted our charge not be whilst yet felt was the sun upon our backs. Weightless were the cleavers amid my gauntlets which sliced through bonds foul and champions false alike, runes alight as hearth coals. And yet... dim had our fury once pass did we unto the threshold of Helheim. A deathly pall overwhelms and stifles all therein beneath airs stale. To pursue battle thither is not unlike the frozen north and only recovered hath my sinews by grace of my beloved's healing hands. Tread had sabatons once righteous with caution atop plank and bone in anticipation of opposition. So met were the Helarjar upon the Eternal Battlefield, wreathed in rage and shame. As silhouettes vague did they emerge from fog all surrounding before harrowing decisively so to halt our advance. Arise of the very grounds did remains unliving and lumber did shapes which loomed ungainly upon the bleak horizon. Funneled was a portion of our band away, severed and pressed before yet another horrid doom. From afar did I glimpse the gluttonous beast Guarm devour scores once brave before sounded was the horn of retreat... Such was but my first foray unto that depraved realm. Taken have I since to slumberbloom again so to soothe my dreams, and yet oft regardless do I awaken from visions of battle mist choked against terrors unseen. In waves doth our efforts clash against the stones of Helheim in siege relentless. Thusly have I delved unto such hellscape upon several endeavors, and yet ne'er ease doth the chilling of my blood. Began had such tribulations to meld into memory indistinguishable until the latest venture. Winterborne. Yes, the very same once pronounced deceased and fallen upon the Broken Shore. Return had they unto us some time ago after being evidently sequestered amid the Halls of Valor. Encounter had I their person within that plane of misery to much intrigue. Stumble had I upon combat betwixt her and a spectre of sorts. Ragged was her opponent and tattered was the tabard upon him, the golden anchor a sight most unexpected. Speak did he with venom and ire whilst striking wildly as if vengeance possessed. Interfere did I not, though arduous was it to stay mine hand. Discern could I rivalry personal amid the atmosphere as though fate deemed their battle to be. Recall do I accusations peculiar, of death ignoble and perpetrated through others at her behest... Consider should I hardly the ramblings of the damned. Hewn was head of the wight from its shoulders, Winterborne to stand victorious and relieved. Know do I well the grief of spirits belonging unto the past. Most rare is opportunity with which to vanquish such phantoms with thine own hand. Yet, naught remains idle amid Helya's realm for long. Inquire shall I o'er mead for tale prolonged, and perhaps as well toward the armaments wielded. It is no meager feat to master the shaping and bearing of Demonsteel, after all. As well, the shield upon her arm strikes my senses as peculiarity akin unto the cleavers within my possession. Yes, prefer would I greatly the conversing of arms in lieu of further battle unyielding. May Helya be soon struck down and my fortitude endure until then."
  8. The Gryphon's Quill

    November 9th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar "The sorceress hath shown her hand, renewing her foul campaign upon the Broken Isles whilst corrupting the souls of many Stormforged in the wake of her mists. Much hope is laid upon the vision of the Valarjar released for which disturbing is it to know that reversed may be the blessings of Odyn. That which once gleamed golden to become brackish and maddened, depriving Azeroth of hearts valiant with which to defeat our true enemy amid the Legion. Now doth ring the clarion call throughout the isles. Long hath prepared the Skyhold for such tumult and honed art our blades now brought to bear. Witness shall those amongst our foes their folly and seen shall be the end of the Helarjar. Summoned hath the Titan Keeper all, regardless should they reside not among the mortal warbands of the Valarjar, unto the Halls of Valor. Therein is held one final trial of valor to deem whether those which come art worthy to stride forth unto the depths of Helheim. Restless art the throngs amidst the Skyhold to partake of such rite and frenzied art most to prepare for bout against the likes of Eyir's chosen and the guardian Hymdall. Glimpsed have I not such zeal since opened were the hold unto those as we, the arena now laden with warriors myriad again. Seen may be styles of combat without peer intermingling as whetstones unto one another. Such is akin unto cast amongst the forge with all such fervor poured within mold to be shaped. Felt strongly is unity through outrage among the warbands for the deeds of the sea-witch. Though hideous is warring may such oft not be avoided. Honor resides in defending that held dear, the preservation of home and family. Naught is shameful to perish in pursuit of this ideal. Those which remain art charged with that struggle, lest the fallen be vanquished in vain... It is the vileness of Helya which perverts such aspirations. To slay with treachery and thereafter raise those stalwart unto torment and slavery unending? To deny those proud the reprieve of death when protected is that precious? Truly is this unforgivable and affront to all warriors whom hath claimed battle. Halted must Helya be and without delay before mired is Azeroth within the cruelty of her conflict, thus impeding the traction kept upon the foremost campaign. Should fail this trial might our world be immersed within fog unending in lieu of being scorched through felfire..."
  9. The Gryphon's Quill

    November 2nd, Year 624 of the King's Calendar "The eyes of all turn unto the centre of the Broken Isles whilst a madness unlike that within Val'sharah emerges. The opulent corruption hath begun to devour the city, nobility fearful sacrificing now the multitudes of those suffering unto their demonic masters. Felfire spreads and threatens to engulf the Nightborne. The scent of singed flesh taints the streets after the desolation of the Waning Crescent. Suramar burns. Yet, despite tragedies untold, doth mine heart but tremble for one thereabouts whilst she masquerades still amongst the Midnight Court. Withstand doeth she the banter and cowardice of this aristocracy flawlessly. Such is a testament unto her dedication and patience most enduring for which when present would mine own surely falter alone. Even merely as accessory occasional unto her mask doth waver my nerves beneath such enchantments. These dire tidings at least shall soon herald the end of all impersonating amid the peerage therein. Yet, rejoice may I not. It is upon this late hour before all comes to light that such espionage is crucial unto the Nightfallen cause. Thicken doth my blood with dread at the thought of Brianna being revealed before the Duskwatch... As well, as if such worry was not enough alone doth dwell the peril of Velmon whom lurks to my knowledge beneath the caverns of Shal'Aran. My brow swelters and swims beneath musings harrowing as these whilst hardly may I contemplate them at all. Immersed forcefully am I within conflict entirely different myself. Pulled have I from the shores of Jandvik to stand alongside the mortal warbands of the Valarjar in defense of the Gates of Valor. There is met once more the Felskorn of Skovald that seek brazenly the Halls of Valor. Remarkable is it that yet dulled hath these cleavers bestowed unto me as bathed hath they deeply now in blood fel-tainted. But distraction momentary art they ere the true conflict to come. There is a mustering yet realized by most as prepare doth the Skyhold to end the tyranny of Helya once and for all. No longer shall the Vrykul fear setting alight their dead at sea, lest they return as Kvaldir drowned afterward. However, to accomplish such task must scoured be Helheim and struck down the Helarjar... To delve unto such watery realm perturbs my spirit and unfastens my courage. The tailwind gained which turned the tables of our campaign in favor of Azeroth begins to peter at last. The morrows to come shall prove whether had shall be wind anew so that staved may be oblivion for another day."
  10. The Gryphon's Quill

    October 15th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar "O'er the brim of page now scribed upon may glimpse mine eyes the glamour of Suramar. How resent do I now such city, regardless of splendor otherworldly. Still I am blindsided, as if flanked unwittingly by this unexpected calling from portent nearest mine heart... Knew had I of Brianna's work, yet hardly could have been foreseen the swiftness with which she would pursue these ventures. Seek doeth she penance unnecessary for absence her own ere began was the war in earnest, a sentiment one as I may understand unnervingly well. Desperate art the Nightfallen and accept shall they all gold, magics, and guile for which she may offer. She hath thusly bestowed each in abundance. Worry do I for that as her haste. The scrolls brought unto our chambers with task bidden unto her harrow my brow incessantly, the words therein to churn my stomach into tempest weak. Socialite and gentle as my beloved would of course excel at tasks of subtlety. Accomplish hath she much already upon behalf of this uprising. Nonetheless, it is one matter to dwell under guise enchanted in silence as messenger or intelligencer and another to infiltrate courts and galas decadent openly. Hewn down amongst the loyalist faction was family minor and quickly upcoming in notoriety. Taken were their visages for which one shall be bestowed upon her in role anew. Yet, incomplete is this mask which she shall masquerade beneath. 'Barandor.' That is the name I am to adopt upon these sorties of leisurely peril. In need is she of husband figure with which to solidify this act. Curious would be disappearance of the head of such household thereafter replacement, after all. Slated was another amongst the Nightfallen for this, but argue had Brianna that bond sincere would convince more so instead of attempt with agent unknown. And so I am to be garnish to her deception whilst trepidation flows rampant throughout my veins. I am not a courtier of the clandestine, though circles knightly hath before intermingled thereabouts. I am warrior and know foremost doeth my soles the fields of war in lieu of floors marbled. Battlefields in of themselves art such gatherings of wealth and luxury with dangers lurking to rival the intimacy of combat. Prefer do I war in all senses as at least therein may one know thy foe as opposed to waltzing betwixt their dagger laden maws. Again recalled art the lessons most harsh amidst House Halbren in times of yore. Tremble do I for the tutelage instilled of manners courtly hardly comes to par with her grooming within House Mackinzie. I digress. It is fated to be as naught shall halt my love in the endeavor she desires. Immerse herself doth she o'er both culture and nuances all in preparation. Grateful am I at least for part amid such stage as to lend mine aid, as feeble as it may be. Answer shall I summons betwixt my duties among the Valarjar when needed is this 'Barandor' upon her arm. Most tenacious art these Nightfallen and even devised hath they means to circumvent the... peculiar conditioning of my tongue. The illusion given unto me shall bear injury grievous upon the throat as to dissuade speech. Such scarring is to be told as suffered at the hands of the rebellion and thus shall garner sympathy further. Thorough... Regardless, ne'er shall I know ease without mine armaments. Perhaps allowed shall be my scramseax beneath vestments meager? May these excursions be brief. Rather would I see siege befall this city and this ruse be undone."
  11. I would argue that instances as the Dalaran statue reflect more Blizzard's tendency to release updates in bursts rather than a lorewise reflection of the time "technically" taken for raid encounters. Though, they have improved lately with the usage of phasing technology to better pace these things out so that the world changes around your progress. Claiming that events are considered, in lore, complete when released also poses great issue in the context of multiple raids/dungeons. Are we to say that on the very first day every single threat was put down at once lorewise? If the threats are technically defeated the moment they are released, then what are we doing for months before the next batch of content appears? Why does the lore and story not cover said areas of emptiness? The story of WoW is purposefully vague like that because it has to be. Content can only be added so often and so precise descriptions are left largely alone. There are holes to fill everywhere and, again, nothing stating anywhere clearly in favor of either interpretation. In hind sight the timeline of events appears more clean, but even then there are no simple indications in the lore as to when specifically certain events (raids, dungeons, etc) were considered dealt with. It is something most ICly avoid describing with absolute certainty, at least until the following patch where the story finally moves forward. The question of Elisande's spell and the aftermath on characters present is interesting. We are only speculating at the moment since we do not have definite details, but I would wager being caught in the spell would render a character much like the trapped NPCs. But, that isn't to say there cannot be special cases or close escapes when it comes to individual RP. Perhaps a character happened to have something that preserved them from the effects? Perhaps they had something that got them out of there just in time? Or, maybe they were simply in a section of the area outside of the spell's range when it happened? I think we need to see the spell in action to gain more accurate bearings. I look forward to seeing what people decide to do when the time comes. As for my character: Rorrek will probably not be present at the battle as it appears to be an elven movement, assisted by the Kirin Tor. There are a number of other threats to be dealt with on the Broken Isles, after all.
  12. There is nothing really lorewise that indicates that raids are completed in the lore upon release to the playerbase. It is left vague and nebulous for people to discover, often nowadays even hiding special cutscenes in the higher tiers of difficulty. The pacing is dependent on the playerbase and often subject to varying interpretations. This is similar to the questing experience. You could blow through all of the Broken Isles in a matter of hours, but that doesn't necessarily mean it was all lorewise completed at the same break neck pace. Most ICly simply feel through the events logically while consulting with others for a loose consensus of what was likely. For instance, a raid like ToC would obviously take far less time lorewise than something like SoO. Add in the aforementioned questlines and gated versions of raids and it paints a more lengthy picture in many cases.
  13. The Gryphon's Quill

    October 5th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar "Even now doeth mine hands tremble with rage. Sought have I to temper and dilute such amongst the clamor of battle o'er these last days. It is to no avail, and but perhaps time shall lessen this seething revulsion. Velmon. Truly ill begotten is the humor of fate to offer both blessing and curse as encounter betwixt us. Long now have I toiled ere the walls of Jandvik in defiance of the Sashj'tar that seek to ensnare the settlement amidst their vile coils. Such skirmishing as of late hath imbued my personage with gratitude for avoidance fortunate of Vashj'ir during campaign bygone. Each clash upon these shores is to court grave drowned beneath trident and net weighted, those unwary dragged unto the deep. Describe may I not my contempt to have been met with sight of such a detestable wight upon return from battle against the Naga incursion. Simply loitering amid the centre of the village beside associate looming and of the same bearing... Of course, recede hath she unto the sanctuary of the Ebon Blade once more. Lividly do I remember the heft of my footfalls whilst I was covered amidst blood and brine in approach. But offer did the craven words paltry and hollow. Even dared had they to attempt speak of justice... as if bear did they knowing of such at all. Glimpse had I neither remorse nor guilt within the pall of their gaze as defend had they their ruinous deeds. As if their massacre of innocents amid Mulgore were justified. The disgust and outrage rises within me again as then before the mere thought. Attack had I then with intent to see their ilk put down once and for all, lest those with hands unsullied suffer at her behest again. Time was there not long ago when perhaps heeded would mine hand their plea, hilt thereafter stayed so to listen. Such time hath long since passed. Eluded hath she once before execution lawful and emptied am I of pity for their plight. Though enemy true is the Legion would 'aid' of one as she but ensure loss. My regret lay only in failing upon such task when come was opportunity unbidden. Perhaps succeed would I have if not for interruption of runecaller for whom held ear of the Jarl... but, it is not feat small to fell a death knight either. At least effective were the dormant runes engraved upon mine armaments which dispersed moderately their frost magics. Arrive had I upon behalf of the revered Valarjar and disrupt could I not the peace of Jandvik further without tarnishing the hospitality offered in kind since. Yet, spoke had I truth in that ended was such conflict not. Come shall retribution. In this there is a deepening grief which wells from mine heart. Once had mine hands honed further their sword and thus began was bond. To know that technique their own would be turned upon those without means to protect themselves truly at all... and furthermore that reason offered was to be so foolishly shallow. As if such sins could benefit any amidst tumult grimly tenuous as then, their actions to but have aided those wicked. Befouled have they much whilst seeking to cower behind those claimed to be their excuse. Cross shall our paths again without doubt, and prepared shall I be... I am wearied. My body doth ache and consider must I still the proposal of my beloved... The worry of her doings gnaws upon me. Trusted is that as her strength and resilience, but increasingly perilous doeth her workings among the Nightfallen become. Aid immense might she impart with finesse and upbringing noble for which she doth possess. Yet... the courts of Suramar art far cry from those of Stormwind."
  14. The Gryphon's Quill

    September 27th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar "To hold again the quill is sensation seemingly unfamiliar since last I had written. Mine hands have known little else as of late save for hilt and handle belonging unto the blade. Await do all for turning point further upon such campaign as waded unto is drudgery endless, as if held is breath collective betwixt us. Should all that contemporary halt and warring widespread amble without fulcrum anew shall foreboding diminish that as our momentum. Amidst such conflict is time perhaps the greatest of our foes before the Legion. Such trepidation must be held at bay and suppressed whilst onward those as we endeavor. Speak may I hardly for the efforts beyond my sight, but honed at least am I upon that before me. The stalemate of the Titan-Forged must be ended. Prepare doeth the Skyhold for tumult final against the ilk of Helya. Persist doth the drowned witch in defying the Valarjar aid unto Azeroth. Fall doeth the combating of the Helarjar unto those of us amongst warbands mortal, lest ne'er ended is the mist wreathed yoke of Helheim. So spent art my days, vanquishing foes unto the brine from whence they were dredged. Preferred art the folly of the Felskorn for at least doeth their likes remain fallen when struck down. Meld doeth the hours and battles unto one another until distinguished may they not be at all. It is such lengthy taxing of my spirit which hath birthed a slothfulness when departing Brianna's bed each morn. Truly, I am loth to leave her warmth and caress as such is balm unto body and soul. Yet, tend hath she not my wounds and weariness so that I might lay idle. Alike stand our hearts in such regard. She is restless. Tedious is the mustering of her strength again and thus hath she sought reprieve amidst labor. Seek doth she oft study of the city of Suramar which dwells below the loftiness of Dalaran. Even drawn hath she our daughter Vatya amidst such ventures... Know do I too well the gnawing pains of waiting and furthermore of ignorance all consuming. May she derive solace of such effort and fruition where in likewise mystery I have faltered. The answers sought within the pages last recorded elude me. Helgar will speak not of that inquired and lends but a smugness in knowing unshared. Perhaps disclose shall he that desired unto my brow in time? Doubtful, but hope may I otherwise nonetheless. That aside... the cleavers forged wield with a magnificence befitting their sight, however; as well with a peril most perplexing. Ere the first battle with they in hand had I worried of their lack of heft. Surprise was met when come was the fray. Sink did the blades, as if thirsting, unto flesh and bone with weight considerable. Unexpected was this and nigh thrown awry was my stance and bearing when shift had their burden in such manner. Envision could I thereafter the sneer of Helgar toward my confusion. Though marvelous shall such weaponry require much time to master. Still, gratitude do I lend unto such gifts imparted through mine hands as spectacle art they to behold. With such curious armaments may I contend with those of stature far greater than I with methods entirely unknown before. My sight is now come unto village upon the farthest reaches of the Suramar province. This 'Jandvik' is supposedly home unto Vrykul honorable and thus perhaps allies eventual. Mayhaps seek shall I information as well to aid Brianna amid her pursuits of the Nightborne whilst nearby..."
  15. The Gryphon's Quill

    September 16th, Year 624 of the King's Calendar "Late is the hour and yet lifted is this haze which hath beset my brow... at least returned is a semblance of my sense. In truth do I remain amidst bewilderment and laden with inquiries boundless, all without answer. The last I recall... Sounded was the Gjallarhorn. Sought had the Skyhold to call forth the Keepers of Ulduar unto their ancient charge, but come instead was news dire. Besieged was the citadel of Titan antiquity before onslaught endless of the Legion. Yet, exhausted was I still after efforts spent upon the slopes of Highmountain. Assembled were warbands of warriors and Valarjar alike to see such assault broken. To accompany those for whom amid battle would thence rely upon my fortitude when depleted was I long since would be folly, to my chagrin. And so... remain did I amongst the Halls of Valor. Thereafter sought had I the forge since denied was battle. Yes, the Forge of Odyn... Again is come this fog which eclipses my memory. However, possess do I strands of recollection and thus shall they be woven together. I must remember. Commit had I unto honing the art and depth of my runeforging. Steeped art the Vrykul amidst such craft as to surpass even the most worthy of Dwarven smiths. Long have I labored amongst others of similar prowess beneath the scrutiny of the Valarjar. Deny may I not the allure of the anvil within those hallowed halls. Yearn even now doeth mine heart still to uncover the secrets of that heavenly hearth. Awoken have I for days many within sweat cold with naught but embers fleeting at dreams' end. Always did tremble mine hands with desire of hammer and tongs, as if called unto furnace otherworldly... Thought had I that such was surely mere affinity or perhaps obsession for one as myself. Then was come nothingness. Remember do I setting unto the forge and gazing deeply of the flames therein. Inhale had I of the fumes which were billowed of the smelting... There ends the memories for which I may trust. I am told that such transpired days ago... Lost have I days without knowing? Believe this would I not if such was not come from the mouth of my beloved herself. My body aches with a weariness as if held have I vigil unceasing for a fortnight. Truly were those of mortal bearing ne'er meant to wander such vaunted halls. Wreathed art the flashes of vision thereafter with brume most thick. Vaguely may I recall the speaking of throats many fold, amidst tongue I know not, rising forth in song unbeknownst. When close doth mine eyes in thought to discern truth doeth flit sights of mine hands toiling before me. And yet... such were as if I was but spectator within myself and another worked through my form. As if possessed did my grasps fold and shape without will mine own. Such thought alone is perturbing, let alone the sight. Supposedly were my labors beheld from afar by watch of Councilor Catori. Lend must I my thanks, but as well inquiry unto that witnessed. Despite my lapse in knowing do I stand now myself again. Soon shall be had opportunity in meet of the Empire so that others may see my wellness restored. As well... that I have as consequence wrought. Brought was I unto exhaustion whilst amidst such trance, to hold fruition unbidden in hand when ended was task. Lifted was I toward the great mead hall and fell had I upon feast thereabouts with hunger ravenous. Upon instinct did I consume and drink once finally awoken of my stupor. It is then that my memory resumes. In tow were carried the result of such enchantment which dwell now within the corner of my gaze. Ne'er before have I forged such weaponry as this. These... cleaving blades. Marvelous art such armaments and surpass doeth they all weapons thus made at my behest. Swathed art the brands in runes unfamiliar beneath weaving patterns of masterful design. Hold do either but single edge bearing serrations wide, but naught else astounds as their girth and length. One would foremost perceive such colossal swords as unwieldy, save for the most gargantuan of wielder. And yet... such is deception grand. Learned have I of Elven craft unto blades of old which rendered that held nigh weightless, but ne'er could I replicate such myself. So art these cleavers in heft. Unnaturally light, impossibly so, as if but weapons a third of their breadth. Bristle do I before the advantage such may bolster unto battle upon foe unsuspecting. But marvel further may I at the mastery of techniques ancient and unknown, however; as well must I lament the loss of such knowledge which hath seeped betwixt my fingers and mind long ere wakefulness was regained. To think but began had I study unto Leysmithing and Demonsteel... Each attempt of offering before the Forge of Odyn were shattered at the hands of the Master Smith. Even after sought was wisdom of the Ironhorn Enclave and firmament stone would Helgar but glance unto my works with disregard. What knowing doeth such Valarjar withhold in this? Said had aspirant that held aloft were such blades and proclaim did Helgar their craft to be 'adequate.' Yearn do I to lend them names, but such would be shame upon mine honor as smith. Though used were mine hands may art as this hardly be attested to the likes of mine expertise. I know so little... Alas, to dwell further this night shall be to no avail. I am fatigued and must yet rest, lest I incur injury whilst lame. Surveyed have I the contours of these blades enough. As well, curves more desirous await me beneath sheets satin. Dalah'surfal... worried hath she gravely during absence long. Offer must I gratitude ceaseless for the tending she hath granted upon me since my return."