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Post by Nomine on Oct 12, 2009 18:04:17 GMT 1
Used to be that I was building friends an allies through bedding em, these days I build em through telling stories of the same. Reckon the world never changes much in truth. My tale is of a friend, one that might still be out there fighting, or lost to the mists.
Her name was Auburn, and she was steel, in armor or without. A woman fighting for the light, fighting as she did`t know how else to live her life.
We crossed paths many times, I would call her a friend, she would call me a bastard. Both of us would be right. Reckon her steel covered fist would have tried to beat some sense into me, if she did`t know I try to do right by mine. So she decided to beat my head into a pillow instead and I returned the favor by trying to drive the breath out of her.
I could boast and say it took three days and three nights untill we both passed out, all lust well spent. The passion between us was from warriors needing it, not from lovers with sheep eyed expressions. For this she was the one my wife feared she could lose me too.
One night in Menethiel word was passed to me from her mates, Stoen, Deton and more. That she was lost in the plaguelands. Burned after death as the Dawn does it.
Steel is not lost in simple battle, it can be spent, broken, or twisted. But never lost. So I and Heartfang, the one I could trust, my life in her claws. We stalked our away across the burned earth, fighting were stealth could`t pull us through. Untill we found her scent and traces of a battle lost.
I howled then, and Heartfang brought me to safe ground.
For three months, I belived her dead, others belived her dead. But steel can`t be lost, only bent. So she was alive, battered but fighting. Found her in Nangard, sober for once, stil same, still breathing like a proper warrior.
I belive she is still out there, an if she has walked into the mist, I pitty the gods allowing such hell into their midst.
I howl for Auburn. |
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Post by Nomine on Oct 12, 2009 18:05:06 GMT 1
In preparation for the howl, more of us should have asked themselves. “Who are the Cenarion guardians” and I reckon more of them should have asked themselves “Who are Starlight”.
In both cases appearances are deceiving, and it is so easy to view all Kaldorei with Stormwind eyes. Soft, weak, even with the best of intentions their often end up as Shinodan, caught in pointless fights, often with their own. People like Caliyen or Heartfang is rare, those few that kept their raw edge, despite the years and humanity.
Must be strange to see your own reflection, inn the eyes of your more feral kin. It makes me wonder about their society. There is so much we don’t know, makes it hard to be a proper false facer and harder to be honest.
For now, I reckon I am best served in treating them as competent nobles and twice as dangerous when bored.
Our stories are different too, the fight is only there as a backdrop, taking steel is always easy for us. Washing away the blood after and not yourself with it, that’s hard. Something any fool in chain mail should know.
So we howl about those hard bits, losing a friend that did the right thing over and over, and then being there in his shoes, trying to do the right thing. Being cast out after ripping apart your family, now being a mother yourself and having to take the same form to protect.
I watch the Cenarions stoic kaldorei faces, I try to judge their questions and I doubt they see it as proper for a howl. But I am proud of mine; they share more than I did.
Cenarion guardians howl like their just one breath away from blood and chaos. How order keeps them honest and alive. There is a structure to their howls, and their glances in-between let us know who among them is a cub and who is an respected elder?
I take over from Esau, and to my surprise none of them reacts at this, they came to the howl, they respected our “leader” and understand when he needs to leave. This is very good, and one of the first true signs of flexibility among them.
It also let me stand infront of Kestrel, and I know there is an confrontation coming.
Sarama herself tells a story that might be true, but it is a well chosen one, it would be perfect to end the night on. But Kestrel has yet to speak and now that I lead the howl, I would never refuse her.
She speaks and I know they never asked themselves who Starlight are.
There is nothing wrong in her story; she speaks to clear the air, and as she sees things, what a howl can be about.
But her choice of words, they sound just like steel on steel for a Starlighter, and make me feel so very old.
When you live in Stormwind you know every quick word with a hint of violence, is soon replaced with steel in hand unless…
Unless you show that your just as bloody hard as the opponent and willing to kill.
What a howl never is a place to fight.
What Starlight never is are people who back down from a challenge to the words “Strength in Unity” and they see this as an attack on one of us. Plain and simple. This too makes me proud.
Second after the first hand is on the hilt, the questions about Sarama`s story is voiced over the hearthstone. “was it a well crafted political play, her howl vs Kestrels”. Allowing them to give with one hand and take with the other.
My words can still Starlights views on this matter, they trust my judgment. I know Kestrel, and I know her intimately. Don’t doubt for a second that Sarama is trying to play a political game, but I know Kestrel is`t.
You don’t do political and also offer your life, so others can escape.
It ends after that, and neither of us left the impression we wanted to make.
But I am Nomine, Lord protector of Starlight, and there is`t a better rabble of bloody bleeding bastards, singled minded fools, fluffy healers and misfits in all of Azaroth.
Of course I won’t tell em that.
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Post by Nomine on Oct 12, 2009 18:09:18 GMT 1
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