Filora

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About Filora

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  • Birthday 01/11/1984

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  1. There stands a small platform between three statues in the back of a deep cave in Talador. Filora is in the middle, her ankles chained to said platform. The statues hold the taut chains to her neck and arms respectively. A blindfold covers her eyes. Filora raises her head when the two approach and scowls in displeasure. "Who's there?" Mackinzie stopped just shy of the chained elf. Her face was swathed with a thin mask but her emerald eyes held rising contempt and unbridled hatred. "It's her," she spoke evenly. Rorrek had drifted from Brianna's side as he entered further within the small cavern, coming to halt a ways off. He peered over his pauldron to the entrance once more, the man having been watchful and cautious before entry as well. Filora tilts her head at the voice, trying to identify it. She is for the moment silent as she warily waits for more information. Rorrek affixed his gaze toward Filora as Brianna spoke. He remains silent while observing the bonds of the captive. Mackinzie removed her cloak and subsequently the hood and mask as well, and tossed it aside. She tilted her head, watching the woman with open hostility. After a moment, she begins rummaging in her medicine bag without further words. [Filora]: Common... so you're Alliance. Probably human, if I'm any guesser. Rorrek began to walk around the chained area, taking note of how the elf had been trussed thus far. His sabatons thud softly against the tightly packed soil of the cavern, echoing lightly as he circled. Mackinzie withdrew a small vial and a syringe before placing the bag aside. She glanced towards Rorrek and finally spoke. "Remove her gauntlet, would you? I need a bit of exposed arm." Rorrek merely nodded and stepped forward. His own plated hands see the desired gauntlet removed, the motion swift and none too gentle. He as well moves any cloth beneath which might obstruct Brianna's intent. [Mackinzie]: Aye, and keep her still. [Filora]: What are you doing? Rorrek extended his gauntlets once more, roughly taking hold of the chained and exposed arm. His steel clad grip is as a vice with which to halt much struggle as it may occur. He nods toward Brianna afterward. Mackinzie adeptly tied off a quick tourniquet of sorts before seeing the syringe dipped into the liquid and drawn within. She then jabbed the needle roughly in the elfs arm and released the heated liquid. "Thank you," she said to Rorrek. [Filora]: The fuck? Mackinzie completely ignored Filora as she removed the make-shift tourniquet and placed the items aside. At her hip, she unsheathed her dagger and took it in hand. She nodded towards the elf's palm as she looked to Rorrek. Rorrek, once Brianna were finished, released the chained arm and awaited further instruction. He glanced to the prisoner with eyes which were distant and cold, holding nothing but quiet disdain. Rorrek thereafter cuffed Filora's wrist with one hand as the other pried open their now unarmored palm. He holds such steady and readied for the following step. [Filora]: What are you doing? Filora demands, more angrily now. Mackinzie chuckled lightly and grinned to herself, as if harboring a secret. The tip of the dagger was pressed harshly into the flesh of Filora's palm as she began to slice a rune symbol. She did so with meticulous care to the pattern but none for the pain caused. Filora yelps in pain and tries to struggle, not that she's any match for Rorrek's strength. "Ow! Ow ow! Stop it! What are you doing!" Mackinzie placed her palm over Filora's now bloody one, after she finished etching the rune. A few spell words were spoken as shadow arced from her palm to sear and seal the rune, which now glowed a dark purple. Still, she ignored the woman's questions. Rorrek discourages the struggling by tightening his grip, specifically the one about her wrist, to the point where bruise may arise afterward. Filora grits her teeth in pain, feeling the strange magic wash over her. "What do you WANT?" Mackinzie stepped back and eyed the woman. Runes glowed at each of her palms, throat, and forehead -- each seared and sealed, each glowing purple. She nodded at Rorrek. "You can release the bitch now." Utter contempt burned in her emerald eyes as she watched her. [Filora]: Fuck, what the fuck, you bitch... Rorrek slowly released the captive from his indomitable grip. He then folded his gauntlets behind his back and stepped from the slightly raised platform to stand beside Brianna. He then, at last, spoke while appraising the prisoner. "Most thorough." Filora 's head tilts again at the other voices. She frowns, still unable to place either of them. Mackinzie finally addressed Filora for the first time, her voice dripping with malice. "Do you remember Skylah?" she asked without preamble. [Filora]: Who? Filora says, not skipping a beat. Mackinzie did not seem disconcerted, nor did her expression change. She merely looked to Rorrek. Rorrek glanced to Brianna and nodded. He stepped forward once more, quite calmly, while his gauntlet wrapped around the hilt of his sword. He then suddenly jabbed outward with the pommel, striking Filora's lip harshly before sheathing the weapon fully again. [Mackinzie]: Perhaps such jogs your memory? Filora's head jerks back with the impact, her lip split. She draws a sharp breath, then licks her lip. "That doesn't, but come to think of it, your smell does. Don't you humans ever bathe?" Mackinzie ignored the question as she tilted her head and narrowed her gaze at the woman. There seemed to be a singular intent in her gaze as she continued, an odd tone to her voice. "Have you any remorse for what you did to her, elf?" [Filora]: Is that why I'm here? To apologize? Did you not notice the tabard? Mackinzie nodded her head once, to herself, as if satisfied that she were making the right decision. "We'll be seeing you again soon," she simply said, before turning to walk out. Filora calls out in return as she walks away, "Can't say I'm not glad I don't have to look at your ugly face!" Rorrek remained upon the platform for a moment longer, watching the contours of the bound captive for a time. There is no sympathy, and he looks upon her as would an impassive butcher before cattle. It is only as he departs that a flash of disgust is seen.
  2. Filora Livlet Selection: Filora shrugs and reluctantly takes out her mace. "I guess someone has to get it done." Click: "What?" "Who, me?" "Kinda busy." "Ugh, what." "Do I have to?" Excessive click: "Ugh, leave me alone!" "I'm not cut out for this." "This is way too much work." "Wouldn't someone else be better? Like, anyone?" "Fine, if you shut up!" Ordered to move: "Ugh, fine." "Whatever." "If you insist." "Let's get this over with." Ordered to attack: (bored) "Peace through annihilation and all that." "Get out of my way!" Ordered to heal: "You owe me for this." "I'm doing you a favor." "Try not to suck so much. It's annoying for me." Taunt: Filora puts her hands on her hips and laughs, then flips back her hair. "I never lose." "You should learn when to cut your losses." "Watching you cry will be amusing." Joke: Filora crosses her arms and smirks. "If I hear one more blonde, fat, or elf joke, I'm going to drown a puppy." "What do you call a dead rogue with half a brain? Former High inquisitor." "How do you get rid of a dumb dead girl who screws whores? Well, don't send the former High Inquisitor." "Hey, I didn't come up with calling him the Cowmander. Though I wish I had." Death: Filora tries to run away and is struck down from behind. Rebirth: (whine) "Owwwwww..." "I'm not doing that again." "I didn't sign up for this."
  3. Filora sees the flyer and snorts incredulously. It can't be this easy, can it? She thinks for awhile, then chooses a name to sign up. Shaelie Brightwing
  4. A squadron of dark riders flew over every major Alliance city between noon and the early afternoon today. In their wake fell flyers; hundreds of flyers, all bearing the same goblin-printed message. Curious citizens grabbed up the pages, and soon the message they told was carried across Azeroth, Draenor, and even Outland, for anyone with an Alliance contact to hear. Some pages even drifted through otherwise empty areas, borne by a cold breeze....
  5. [[ Especially gratuitous torture ahead. ]] They were still upstairs in the somewhat dilapidated Thel’Nadras manor, half going through an after-action review, half bickering about the choices that had been made. Khorvis had already backhanded Shaelie once and probably would have Filora too for her snappy comeback if she’d been standing close enough, but the paladin was nothing if not good at learning from others’ mistakes. Eventually Khorvis sent Kharthak and Filora downstairs to question the prisoner, as there was little else the Grim could do that evening. Filora descended the stairs still simmering with anger at having been caught exposed, embarrassment at their sound thrashing, and with numerous aches and pain to stoke her temper further. Considering this was a Sin’dorei manor, a certain type of dungeon was to be expected. But the fact that Skylah had been bound to a whipping cross didn’t make the restraints any less secure. Only one limb remained free – the arm that ended at the wrist, making binding that limb impractical. The human woman hung there, dazed and disoriented, apparently only just regaining consciousness. Filora walked over to her and slapped her soundly across the face with a plated hand. “Wake up, whore,” she snapped. Then she slapped her again, for good measure. “How did they find you?!” she demanded. Skylah winced then cringed as Kharthak reached out to grasp her face with a long glare. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes moved to Filora. “I was in my cell… and now here. I… don’t even know of whom you ask.” “The red-haired priestess,” Filora said. She’d realized that one of the four who had come after them had looked suspiciously like their prisoner. “Who is she? Your sister?” Kharthak stared for a moment at Filora, then watched the prisoner’s reaction. Skylah tried to hide it, but a small curl came to the corners of her lips. It was all Filora had to see to punch the human woman in the gut. Kharthak let Skylah go as she gasped for air, blood spilling from her mouth. She tried to put her free hand over her stomach, but it only served to remind her that it was gone. The pain of her face was evident. “Gods, you’re useless,” Filora said. Kharthak stared discerningly at their prisoner as she struggled to catch her breath. “Did you say that hand dismemberment didn’t work?” he said. “Khar—” Filora remembered she probably shouldn’t use his name. “You, shaman, can you, like, fuse her stump to her stomach?” “Let me see…” Kharthak said softly. He moved up to Skylah again. “I am Kharthak,” he said – so much for keeping his name a secret – “shaman of the Mandate, as such I have both a duty to maintain spiritual guidance and warrior skills. Within our ranks, especially recently, false information has gotten out. These ‘leaks’ are best handled with a plug. Perhaps we can bind up that hand, prevent you from bleeding, if you tell us what’s been happening.” Filora looked at Kharthak in disbelief. He was offering something to her? He had no idea how this worked. “Oh, wow. Really?” she said, and turned and punched Skylah in the throat. The woman’s head knocked into the wooden cross behind her, and she fell into a coughing fit as she once again struggled for air. Filora looked on in satisfaction. Kharthak leaned over to murmur in her ear. “She’ll bleed to death, we still have things we need to know.” Filora looked at the stump. It bled sluggishly, apparently some strenuous efforts having stressed the wound, but to her eye the woman would last long enough for their purposes. “I cauterized it. It’s fine.” “Fool!” Kharthak grumbled. “We could have used that as a tool for extracting information, as a reward. Fine.” He turned back to the prisoner. In a cracked voice, Skylah spoke to him. “You… I talk.” Filora narrowed her eyes at the human woman. She probably thought she could play him, get him to give up niceties without ever turning over anything in return, and odds were she was right. Filora had seen how stubborn Skylah was and knew there was no way she would be tempted by kindnesses, but Kharthak would have no idea. “Let’s see, a series of misfortunes have struck us lately,” Khathak said. “One of our people have gone missing. Our movements are always elusive. Perhaps you learned something, no?” Skylah’s gaze had dropped to Filora. “…Alone,” she rasped. That simply wasn’t happening. Luckily, Kharthak seemed too dense to realize that she hadn’t been responding to his query, so Filora didn’t have to worry about it. “Alone, so you do know something,” he said. “What were you doing, alone?” “She’s been in our custody for like a week now,” Filora said. She looked at Skylah, remembering the point she’d originally been after. “But somehow, they found her.” “Yet you believe she knows something?” Kharthak addressed Filora skeptically. “She must know how they found her.” “Right.” Kharthak turned back to the prisoner again. “Oh, I had hoped you’d tell us.” Skylah dropped her head, shaking it slightly. “How… would I… know?” “Exactly!” Kharthak said. “How would you know? That’s what we’ve been asking this whole time.” Filora lacked the insight to realize Kharthak was deliberately trying to disorient the prisoner and play on her exhausted state. Frustrated with the lack of progress, she decided to kick Skylah in the skin with one steel-toed boot. Skylah let out a hoarse wail of pain. Filora didn’t notice the veins pop out on Kharthak’s temple. “If you’re really this stupid, we have no reason to keep you alive!” Filora snapped. “I know not,” Skylah managed. “Perhaps a guard was bribed.” Filora hissed, “A bribe wouldn’t have led them to the exact place in the countryside we were riding through.” Because they’d been a distance away from the tower before they were attacked. Even flying, their pursuers should have taken longer to find the tiny party in the rolling hills than they did. Barring extreme luck, something had led them right to Skylah. Filora was sure of it. Kharthak’s eye twitched, and he said, “Filora, do the Alliance care about this one?” “She said two of them would come, but apparently there were four,” Filora said with a touch of sarcasm. Then she looked at the human priestess speculatively. “Then whoever was at Bladefist Bay…” “Hah! I’d say we’re halfway there. Bladefist Bay was a petty shame.” Skylah looked up with a questioning glance. “Four… came for me?” she said. This was getting nowhere. The woman was going to end up with more leads and hope than before they’d come downstairs. Filora grabbed Skylah’s mutilated arm and pinned it against the open plank of the cross. “I’m going to cut off the rest of your arm bit by bit,” she said. “Yet I wonder…” Kharthak was musing to himself, “what value, no… just a lowly peon.” Skylah glared at Filora. Through a clenched jaw and heavy breathing she spoke. “Because you failed… you blame me? Shaman… would not… the ones watching me… be in question?” “No,” Kharthak stated, the first smart thing he’d said all night, in Filora’s opinion. “The ones watching you have done their duty.” “You’re not even smart enough to invent something,” Filora told the human woman. She drew her sword from its scabbard at her hip. “And you’re not strong enough to beat pacifists—” Skylah’s words cut off with a horrid scream as Filora set her sword against Skylah’s forearm and began to apply pressure, sinking the blade into flesh. “Shame, shame, shame…” Kharthak mused. “If you’d told us what you did that makes you worth such a rescue party, or even how they knew, maybe you’d have regained your strength if a glint of hope shined.” “This bitch knows why they look for me!” Skylah snapped, through a pained expression. “I am their beacon for peace!” In response, Filora let the blade hit bone and began sawing against it. “You’re more insufferable than Sanctuary,” she told her over her renewed screams. Kharthak was wincing. “Hey Filora, chill,” he said. She glanced back at him, irritated. He clearly didn’t have the stomach for a real interrogation. To prove it, she started cutting a chunk of flesh from Skylah’s arm. Skylah couldn’t pull her arm free and wept. Kharthak mumbled something about honor and clean consciences, and said, “I’ve seen enough of this. No new information is coming out her except… whatever new information you make, Filora.” He stepped away and headed for the stairs. It was just as well. Let Skylah see that no one here was going to stop Filora from doing whatever she damn well pleased to the woman. Filora took her time finishing the several-inch cut of flesh, then put away her sword and grabbed the hanging meat with her gauntleted fingers and tore it off the rest of the way. Skylah’s mouth opened but she had no voice left to cry out; only her body shook in pain. “How did they find you?” Filora asked gently, holding onto the chunk of flesh. Skylah eventually managed tp speak, through low, restrained sobbing. “I told you. I don’t know.” After a few moments, she said, “But you say you saw a red headed priestess?” “Yes. Who is she?” Filora asked calmly. A crazed grin formed on Skylah’s bloody face. “Then I feel sorry for you,” she said instead of answering. “She will never stop looking.” Without preamble, Filora took the hunk of flesh and shoved it in Skylah’s mouth. She covered the woman’s mouth with her hand so she couldn’t spit it out. “You know, I’m doing you another favor,” Filora said. “You must be hungry by now. Maybe you’ll thank me properly this time?” Skylah managed to jerk her head away from Filora’s hand as she began vomiting. Due a lack of food recently, it was more like dry heaving, but it could not have felt anything other than awful. “You really are useless for anything but being made to scream, aren’t you,” Filora said conversationally as she watched. After her heaving ended, Skylah glared at her. “Or you are too ignorant to realize I had nothing to do with this!” “No one is this self-righteous who isn’t clinging to it for their own defense,” Filora said factually. It was the woman’s last vestige of strength, this self-righteousness. But it wouldn’t last her forever. A couple more sessions like these, and Filora was sure she would crumble. Her work for the evening done, and some satisfaction earned, Filora turned and ascended the stairs. “By the way,” Filora said, pausing near the top, “this is my manor, and I decide who comes and goes. The guards here are under no order to leave you alone.” Skylah coughed lightly. “And may the meet the fate of the last guard,” she said. Filora smirked. Rumors abounded about the guard who had been found in Skylah’s cell. “Not when they come in groups,” she said. The truth was, she had no guards, but she’d let Skylah hang there in anticipation. She turned back toward the door. “You want the truth?” Skylah said suddenly. Filora looked back at her. “Sure, if you’re actually going to give it,” she said. “…the stone. It was returned by the Grim’s own hand. It tracks me still.” “How?” Filora said. Skylah looked to the floor, a look of defeat on her face. “I know not its functions, but they are linked to each new member of the Empire.” “All right,” Filora said after a moment. She wasn’t sure what to make of this sudden volunteering of information. It didn’t seem like the threat of abuse by guards could have been the straw that finally broke this stubborn camel’s back. But it sounded feasible enough. In a show of false generosity, she took the waterskin off her belt and tossed it down to land at Skylah’s feet, where the woman had no hope of reaching it. “There you go,” she said. She opened the door, voices upstairs suddenly filtering into the soundproofed room before it closed behind her, leaving Skylah with only a couple lamps for light and the waterskin at her feet. Only for a small incantation of a levitation spell to bring it up to Skylah’s lips. A faint, triumphant smile came to her face. At some point over the next few days as she was left alone to rot there, however, the lamps burning out and no sounds to be heard, it probably faded.
  6. I've definitely made mistakes too. Stuff like this can be tricky. On one hand, we were *asked* to be evil villains, so it can be easy to forget not everyone signed up for what we were asked to bring. On the other hand, we absolutely still have to ensure everyone we bring that to consents to it. I myself have a tendency to get carried away and assume everyone is on the same page just because I really want those feels, when that's really, really not cool of me to do. =/
  7. [[ Alliance perspective of Bladefist Bay and Sanctuary/EA meeting, in Marrus' journal ]]
  8. To be fair, there is a lot of space between "deal with it" and "don't RP". I know I was phrasing things in black and white, as though it's a case of either be yourself and alienate your stuffy, judgy friends, or let others dictate your roleplay and smother the beautiful flower that is your true self, but it doesn't have to be like that. The plot creator can be willing to take certain steps to respond to others' feelings with consideration while not feeling like they're compromising on what they want to do with their own character and writing. I wanted to establish the rights of the individual roleplayer in my post, but there is a lot more to this discussion than that and it's fair to bring it up. An "outer ring" would in fact be the basic idea, where other players can respond to the events or general purpose of the plot without having to be involved with the pieces they're not comfortable with. In Skylah's plot, some of that is being offered. No one had to read or participate in the torture scenes to be involved with yesterday's skirmishes or the effort as a whole to determine what happened to Skylah and rescue her. However, messages with torture content were specifically delivered, and those should probably have been cleared with the recipients first. You can't just lob that at people without establishing if they're comfortable with it. Overall, a thoughtful division between public, unobjectionable content offered to everyone and more controversial content only offered to those who are interested in it is a considerate way to help alleviate the problem. Unfortunately there will always be some who feel content they don't personally like shouldn't occur at all, but there's nothing that can be done about that. Notably, there is less outer ring stuff on the Horde side, since Skylah hasn't asked anything of the Horde other than to be the villains. I'm not inclined to point fingers, though, as that was all those who originally agreed to the plot expected, and no GM can ensure everyone is completely satisfied. I've been in that position and tried, but people can only do their best. If players are unhappy, they can try opening up a civil discourse with the plot owners to shed light on how they feel in a way that isn't about shaming the GMs for their choices, but asking them for alternatives that suit the concerned players better, or even offering ideas and brainstorming story opportunities for the plot of their own. But since the plot owners are not actually obligated to provide anything, the players shouldn't be coming from a place of entitlement. Would a really thoughtful and considerate GM do their best to see and provide for all needs and wants without needing to be asked? Absolutely, but again, folks can only do their best, and the only person any writer or roleplayer really owes is their own muse. Lastly, any plot or storyline only exists because someone created it and others signed onto it. If someone doesn't like any of the storylines currently going on, and feels like their only option is to not RP at all, they might want to consider *making* the kind of RP they want to have, and seeing who joins them. We're all here to enjoy ourselves, so that's what people are going to do.
  9. We did discuss this quite a bit amongst those of us involved in the prisoner rescue attempt, actually.* It was pointed out that while that battle was slated to be a 'loss' for the Alliance, there was a 'win' slated for elsewhere -- Tesonii being captured at the docks seemed like it was pretty much expected. I did offer to let Filora be captured if they won, but after being reminded that Tesonii was going to be taken, I didn't want to steal her thunder. In the end, there was lots of OOC acknowledgement that the Alliance side won at the PvP, their characters saw where the Horde fled to, Shaelie and I played our characters as beaten the hell up afterward, and I did integrate Resileaf's request that Filora take an arrow to the knee, haha. I think everyone was pretty happy to be good sports about it and play their roles to serve the plot. I absolutely see the concern and would not want to tax their goodwill, though. If I'd been able to come up with something more concrete to reward them with, I would have, but it seemed like neither side had any larger ideas that would work with what was needed for the plot in this case. I appreciate their sportsmanship about it and I'm sure Skylah does too, and of course the Grim will be glad to return the concession whenever needed. * I was talking to Skylah, Katelle, Mack, and Rorrek individually, all at different points and about different portions of the above, so I'm not sure how much they relayed to each other, and each of them might not have been aware of everything here. But this was the picture I got on my end!
  10. Consent is absolutely important in RP when it comes to things that could bother people OOCly. Unless you're an asshole, you don't want to make other people feel uncomfortable, disgusted, or unhappy, and you don't feel entitled to it such that you put it on others to have to opt out; it should always be opt-in. Graphic threads should have warnings; graphic in-game scenes should ensure the consent of all present before proceeding. That's where I messed up and where I will be more considerate in the future. That said, Skylah and those involved in her torture scenes (and other torture scenes that have been played as well -- this isn't the first, nor is it limited to Horde-side) did not actually have an obligation to check with their family, friends, and associates to ensure they would be okay with the plot happening. Would it be considerate? Absolutely. But are they obligated? Absolutely not. Roleplay and writing are art and self-expression, and if this is what the participants really wanted to do, they are free to make that choice. They have to be willing to accept the consequences -- disappointing or dismaying friends and other roleplayers who don't want to participate in such stories and would rather they didn't happen at all -- but so long as they're not forcing anyone to participate, they've done no wrong. Some might argue that they are in fact forcing players to participate who have characters with strong bonds established and when they feel the most in-character response would be to participate. However, even in that case, the unwilling player is choosing sticking to how they feel their character would act over avoiding the story. That is their choice. It is an unfortunate one, and this is why I say it is considerate to think of those in such a position when deciding what story one wants to play; but there is still no obligation. The other players still have the choice to not participate, and in the end, no one can tell you how to roleplay and express yourself. I, personally, have been in this situation. Elek and I got a lot of flak for choosing to take our characters in a direction that others in the plot didn't personally like when we came up with the Stratholme nightmare world for Elek and Tassha (warning in case not self-evident: mature content in that link). But that was really something we wanted to write and we weren't forcing anyone else to participate in any way. It saddened me that it disappointed others, but it made me sadder that they didn't think we should have expressed ourselves even if they personally had no taste for it. Not everyone is cool with characters actually being dragons, time travel, multi-classing, or 1,000-year-old Highborne, either. Sometimes, even smaller, non-mature, arguably stupid stuff can drive the same wedge between people who have different creative visions. But hopefully we can not judge one another and find ways to enjoy each other's company when our interests do line up. ...Which is a hell of a lot more often than I'm making it sound. We're not torturing our characters all the time! Really!
  11. [[ You can use this thread to post summaries of this week's events and mini-events pertaining to the ongoing strife between the Grim and the Coalition. ]] 11/17/15 - The 7th Day The Surprise Prisoner Rescue Operation - Horde Perspective Filora and Shaelie had only just started moving the prisoner across the Barrens, flanked by the pair of bodyguards Khorvis had arranged, when the transmitter Shaelie had left at the guard tower went off with voices speaking Common. Filora's Common was rusty at best, but she didn't have to understand what the Alliance were saying to grasp the meaning of hearing their voices. Somehow, their location had been blown. The party took off at speed across the plains. Their only hope was to outrange the search party that would inevitably spread out from the tower. But despite making it almost two-thirds to the safehouse that was their destination, they were discovered. Filora didn't have time then to think about how unfeasible it was that the small group of Alliance, totaling four, had found them in the wide swathes of the Barrens so quickly; or to realize that the initiation of hostilities was perhaps a shade too quick, considering the colors the Alliance wore. That would come later. At that moment, there was only time to fight. Unfortunately, fighting was not her strong suit; avoiding battle altogether more was. Nor was fighting a strength of Shaelie's, the hunter more suited to reconnaissance. Their two bodyguards, at least, fought nearly well enough on their own to hold the Alliance off... but not quite. When an arrow took her in the knee, Filora hit the ground, and started figuring it was time to get out of there. Fumbling, she managed to pull a crystal shard out of her pocket. She only had the one, but she had been saving it for circumstances just like these ever since Saphiara's attack. She'd learned from that that you never knew when it would pay to just be able to get the hell out of someplace. When she activated the crystal, a glowing rift appeared, and the red, gold, and white spires of Silvermoon appeared within. Filora turned and hauled the unconscious prisoner off the back of her mount and yelled for Shaelie to follow as she dove in. One last arrow followed them through the portal to embed itself in her pauldron as they tumbled onto smooth paving stones. They emerged in Silvermoon's Court of the Sun bruised, battered, bleeding, and beaten, but alive, and still in possession of the prisoner. They quickly moved to Filora's father's manor -- not the nicest estate in Silvermoon, but one that was more than sufficient for the moment's needs. The prisoner was thrown in the dungeon and soon other Grim arrived to discuss the other events of the evening. More than a little angered by the painful and humiliating beating they'd taken, Filora questioned the prisoner again, but learned nothing about how allies had found the prisoner's location... except for something the prisoner strangely volunteered when Filora started to leave. Filora reported it to Khorvis. They would have to follow up and see if it were true, or otherwise figure out how to prevent the prisoner's allies from tracking them down again. This time, they didn't hire guards. The Grim stood guard themselves.
  12. I may have been guilty of this tonight. I didn't ensure everyone present was okay with the type of content that certain players had already established. I regret it and will be more thoughtful in the future.
  13. With colors! Still WIP
  14. [[ Now you're just tempting the Grim... (kidding, we don't grief ) ]]