Archive for the 'Writing' Category

((Can’t Rightly Think of a Title.))

“Varendil, I’m going for a stroll around the city.”

“That’s nice, dear.”

“Would you like to come? Maybe we could meet a few new people, see some old friends…”

“I really need to finish sorting these crystals, sweetie. But thanks.”

“Hey, guess what?”


“Lila is going to throw Reanai in the fountain this evening. You want to come and watch?”

“Not tonight. I really want to finish this chapter. Do laugh at him for me, yes?”


“What’s up?”

“Do you want to come with me to the orphanage in Shattrath? A told a little elven boy all the stories of you and he would love to meet you.”

“I really can’t tonight. I have to send these dusts out and head to the auction house.”

“Oh, well, I told him you’d come by soon.”

“Sure, soon.”


“Yes, Lan?”

“My friends in the Circle would really love to meet you. I’ve talked so much of our relationship, they would love to meet my husband.”

“Not tonight, sweets. I have some business to do. That hog of yours doesn’t run on air and sunshine, you know.”

Varendil leaned down to peck his wife on the forehead as he grabbed up the large bag that held his enchanting materials and slung it over his shoulder, straining at the weight.

“Don’t go smoking that pipe of theirs,” Varendil said as he opened the door of the apartment, “I hate it when you come home not smelling like you.” He winked at his wife before the door shut behind him, leaving Lanuria standing in the middle of their apartment.

She hung her head dejectedly, balling her hands into fists as she bit her lip and her tongue. She wanted to call after him, pull him back into the apartment and throw his enchanting materials in the trash. She wanted to take him away from the auction house he had made his second home and bring him to a party, a celebration, anything with someone other than her there. She wanted desperately, more than anything, to hear her husband say that he was going out the the guys tonight and that she wouldn’t wait up for him. She would give anything to have her husband come home and tell her about all the fun adventures he had with his friends that day. About all the laughs, about all the jokes.

But she knew that wouldn’t happen. She clenched her fists fighter.

She would kill to have him happily come along to a function of her and her circle’s. She would murder in cold blood to see her husband discuss the politics of their mission and to do it civilly. But Lanuria knew that was wasn’t her husband. Varendil didn’t want to be around people. Varendil didn’t like people. Varendil didn’t need people to make him happy. Varendil had Lanuria and that was all he needed, all he wanted.


Lanuria spoke to the door, biting her lip as she tried to fight back tears.

He never talked of his past, his childhood antics. He never spoke of childhood friends, of adventures, of those life changing moments when he was young. It was almost as if Varendil had been an old man all his life. She knew that wasn’t true, obviously, but Varendil had no friends, no buddies minus his wife and she knew it was a war torn world and that stepping up and talking of peace would get her in trouble eventually. She knew…

“What are you going to do if I pass from this world before you?”

She took a few steps back, fell into a chair and dropped her head into her hands, crying softly into the empty room.



It’s Cyber Monday, you know what that means, right?!



Have you visited Varendil and I’s new blog yet? It’s pretty amazing.

And he talked non-stop, like a parrot of the sea he was.

So Varendil and I are officially a couple, even if the Facebook pages don’t say it yet. Since we are far away and need something to do with each other when WoW fails, MST3K isn’t working and we don’t want to watch any other tv shows together, we decieded to become the nerdiest couple out there.

We have a blog together.

The Role Player’s Lament. A blog about the wonders..and horrors of flag RSPs. Please, check it out, won’t you?

I know, we are elitist jerks..but we mean well, I promise!

Day of the Dead

Down the hill, the music and festivities of the Argent tournament were in full swing. The sound of metal and wood clanked together, the cries of victory and defeat mingled into one.

But Lanuria Dawnblade was not a part of these sounds. Up on the hill that overlooked the tournament grounds, the Ranger stood over the headstone which finally bore the name of one Saluthiel Rivenblaze. She kneeled down, brushing off the snow that had collected on the simple headstone, fingers lingering over the etched name. The last time she was up here, she stood alongside her fiancé. Varendil, now her husband, stood at the bottom of that hill, waiting for his wife to return after she had made her peace.

Continue reading ‘Day of the Dead’


The festivities from Hallow’s End had all but faded away, the pumpkins tossed away and the fake spider webs and skeletons tucked away in boxes for the next year.  Lanuria found herself packing up her husband’s troll outfit in a crate with a jack-o-lantern drawn on the side and gathering the small little pumpkins and fake spiders that decorated their apartment very quietly, tip toeing barefoot on the cold tile floor.

A small flash of light was seen in the chair tucked in a corner and Lanuria just smiled as she stopped her packing to look at her husband, who muttered spells in his sleep, causing his fingers to erupt in tiny flashes of Light every so often. Reaching for a furred blanket from their bed, she first grabbed the tome that rested on his chest and placed the blanket on him. The priest smiled in his sleep as he felt the warmth of the blanket and went back to dozing on the chair, muttering random nonsense in his slumber.

Lanuria just smiled as she planted a soft kiss on his forehead and went to the bookshelf, placing the tome back in its home. She found a few more fake little bats and spiders strewn across the shelf and reached up to gather the few that had made their home on the top of the case. But her hands gathered more than just pretend critters.  She looked down to see the eyeglass holders in her hands.

She blinked at the case, black and trimmed with golds and reds, swirling about the leather case in a whimsical pattern. She flipped the case over to see the etching into the leather, lined again with gold.

“Sal..” She ran her fingers over his name, biting her lip.

It had been a while since she found out the death of her brother.  Seven months, if she could remember correctly. She squinted her eyes as she placed the leather case back on the top of the bookshelf and threw the spiders and bats into their crate. She gave a quick glance to Varendil, who was still fast asleep in his chair. She smiled for a moment before grabbing her tabard and walking out the door very quietly, hoping not to wake the sleeping priest.

She glanced down at her Crusader’s tabard, fingers tracing along the small runes sewn into the fabric. With a few simple words, a flash of light consumed her and she was at the Argent Tournament grounds.

Mustering all the strength that she could, Lanuria began to walk slowly toward the graveyard at the top of the hill.

Let’s play a game!

Let’s find the story that while being something Lan would say, totally has an OOC meaning to it!


Winnar gets me to actually post something I’ve been needing to post.


((Varendils need not participate!))

A Lot of Work To Do.

In the middle of Icecrown, surrounded by scourge on all sides, a small troop of Rangers gathered there, rubbing their hands together to fend off the oncoming cold, keeping their fingers warm if they needed to reach back for the contents of their quivers by standing close to a small fire.

“You sure this is where we are supposed to be meeting this Captain?” A sin’dorei elf asked, his fel green eyes narrowing at the wasteland around him. “It doesn’t seem safe at all.”

“’Eh, mon. I tink dis cappin be knowin’ what he do doin’” A troll sat on the ground, tinkering with his bow, checking the bow string and adjusting it accordingly.

The elf sneered, slipping back into his native tongue. “For Light’s sake, must he butcher the Orcish language in such a way?” He rolled his eyes, only to have them land on a female kal’dorei who was paying much more attention on trying to make a seed grow in her hand than the arrows on her back.

“This is the elite group of Rangers?” The sin’dorei slumped up against a rock and began to close his eyes before everything went dark, a strong gust of wind blowing out the tiny fire. He sighed in exasperation, tossing his hands into the air and switching back to a tongue all three could understand.

“And now the fire goes out. In the middle of Icecrown. Surrounded by scourge. Just great. Just bloody fantastic!”

The kal’dorei looked down at her feet. “Well, at least we have each other?” She said meekly before going back to the seed that never grew.

The troll shrugged. “Ya mon, you best be lookin’ on da bright side!  Mehbe we be findin’ some scourge, be savin’ da day!”

The blood elf sighed. “We are going to die.” He glanced upward as he leaned against a large rock or glacier, he wasn’t really sure what it was. “Going to freeze to death.”

Fwip fwip fwip.

The three looked down to see an arrow sticking up next to them, each having a small piece of paper tied to the shaft near the feathers. The three leaned down to pull the papers off.




The blood elf blinked. “Please stand back?” He took three steps back as did the other two when an arrow arched out and landed to where the fire once was.

“We are going to get sniped to death.” The night elf said quietly, reaching out for the arrow before a flash of light erupted from the point and the dead campfire was brought back to life, burning brightly against the dark of Icecrown.

The three quickly reached for their own bows and notched an arrow each, glancing around in the now burning fire.

“Who is there!?” The blood elf demanded, drawing back his string. “Show yourself, monster!”

A laugh came out, it was hard to tell where it was coming from with the wind howling and blowing every which way.

“I mean it, monster! We will st-strike you dead!” The sin’dorei stuttered slightly, glancing at his two comrades. The night elf looked as though she had seen a ghost and the troll held his bow steady, muttering in his native tongue.

“Really?” The voice rang out. “I think I could take on an over confident blood elf, a night elf who thinks she’s a druid and a troll who can’t talk in a language anyone can understand.”

“Hey!” The troll glanced down. “Dis just be how I be talkin’.”

A few more arrows arched out, landing around the trio in the snow. “C’mon, show me what I’m workin’ with here!”

“Show yourself!” The blood elf screamed.

“No you!” The voice screamed back.

The elf sighed and lowered his bow. “Fine!” He yelled out and stepped away from the fire, toward a large outcropping. He lowered his arms and placed his bow at his side, the arrow in the opposite hand. “Come out and fight like a man!” He turned around after a moment and smiled at his team. “Bloody coward! See? He won’t come out. Just a scourge who is too chicken shii-“ He was cut off as something grabbed his arm and pulled him back. He screamed as the cold feel of metal was pressed against his neck, and he writhed when the thing held him still, placing a heavy foot on his.

“You talk too much. We are going to have some issues.” The voice whispered to the blood elf. He blinked at the sweet voice that rang into his ears.  He tried to look behind him, but the dagger on his neck wouldn’t allow him to.

“Help me, you morons!” He screamed at the other two who quickly notched up their bows and pulled back. Fear entered the blood elf’s eyes and he screamed again. “Don’t bloody shoot, you’ll kill me!”

The two held fast, arrows ready as the figure holding their comrade pushed him away. He fell to the ground and the figure stood over him, placing a heavy leather boot on his chest. He closed his eyes as her heard the two arrows of his troop’s go off behind him. The figure easily dodged them and he closed his eyes, whispering a prayer under his breath.

“Don’t be the hero. For Light’s sake, you’ve never taken Champion Dawnblade’s classes before, have you, kid?”

The elf slowly opened his eyes at the figure that was now coming into focus with the growing fire behind him. Red hair, green eyes, and a tabard. A Crusader. He blinked a few times, groaning under the heavy boot atop his chest.

“No ma’am, I have not.”

She applied a little more pressure to his chest. “I’ll sign you all up for classes later. Until then, collect your bows and those arrows you wasted and line up. I wish to inspect my troop.”

“T-troop?” The night elf sank back, still holding her bow ready.

“Captain Lanuria Dawnblade, at your service. Now, get your stuff together and line up.” She glanced down at the elf below her and smiled at him, applying a little more pressure still to his chest. “We have a lot of work to do.”


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