---
--present day--
Dawn came to the dark and dreary skies of Duskwood, if pitch black night lifting into dull, somber greys could be called a dawn at all. Though the sun shone bright above the clouds, its light only lit the cursed cloud cover just enough to signal the start of a new day.
An Azerothian reveille sounded out through a ram’s horn, calling forth the soldiers from their slumber. It did not take long for the whole regiment to get on their feet and go through their routine of gearing up and striking down camp. The whole regiment was abuzz before the rest of sleepy Darkshire stirred, recruits and veterans alike milling about camp, chattering and cleaning up before heading out.
It was in this controlled chaos that the distinct golden glint of a Paladin’s armour could be seen moving through the sea of the tin-silver of the common soldier. A few of the conscripted men saluted as Eleazar passed, others thanked him for the fascinating sermon he had presented the night before. The man in the Argent Dawn tabard returned their responses to his passing through in gracious kind, his respect for the nearly nameless soldiers just as deep as their respect was for him.
As Eli neared the center of the camp, the regiment officer looked up from the makeshift situation table and acknowledged the approaching paladin with a nod. Eli returned the nod from a distance and quickened his pace until he stood at the table with a salute and ready stance.
“Paladin-Ambassador of the Argent Dawn, Eleazar Thomaius Abraham. Reporting for duty, sir.”
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Of Light and Void, chapter 5
---
--two months earlier--
Dungar Longdrink strode back and forth, occasionally stopping by one of his magnificent charges where they lay idle in their roosts, waiting for a would-be traveller to carry across the kingdom. While distinctly a Stormwind human, he had earned his surname’s inherent reputation several times over from the intermittent drinking binges he’d share with his Ironforge colleagues in the Dwarven District, along with a healthy (less so for him) respect from his height-challenged peers. He was widely regarded as one of the finer gryphon keepers in the profession, and considering the scrutiny of the Dwarven flight masters, that was certainly saying something.
He turned his head as the distinct sound of gryphon wings reached his well-honed ears, and squinted into the early morning mist cloaking the Valley of Heroes. He furrowed his brow slightly – those weren’t the wings of a typical travelling gryphon. The beats were stronger, faster.
And approaching at alarming speed.
He was only given a split second to throw himself out of the way as the colossal War Gryphon came swooping into the Roost with a deafening roar, narrowly avoiding smashing clean into the stone column dividing the two entryways. The beast came to a screeching halt on the reinforced floorboards, massive claws tearing into the woodwork for traction to halt its momentum, and it only barely kept itself from careening into the stockpiles of supplies neatly stacked against the opposite wall.
--two months earlier--
Dungar Longdrink strode back and forth, occasionally stopping by one of his magnificent charges where they lay idle in their roosts, waiting for a would-be traveller to carry across the kingdom. While distinctly a Stormwind human, he had earned his surname’s inherent reputation several times over from the intermittent drinking binges he’d share with his Ironforge colleagues in the Dwarven District, along with a healthy (less so for him) respect from his height-challenged peers. He was widely regarded as one of the finer gryphon keepers in the profession, and considering the scrutiny of the Dwarven flight masters, that was certainly saying something.
He turned his head as the distinct sound of gryphon wings reached his well-honed ears, and squinted into the early morning mist cloaking the Valley of Heroes. He furrowed his brow slightly – those weren’t the wings of a typical travelling gryphon. The beats were stronger, faster.
And approaching at alarming speed.
He was only given a split second to throw himself out of the way as the colossal War Gryphon came swooping into the Roost with a deafening roar, narrowly avoiding smashing clean into the stone column dividing the two entryways. The beast came to a screeching halt on the reinforced floorboards, massive claws tearing into the woodwork for traction to halt its momentum, and it only barely kept itself from careening into the stockpiles of supplies neatly stacked against the opposite wall.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Of Light and Void, chapter 4
---
Soothe my heart, dear Light,
Meet me in this place.
Calm this warrior’s soul,
Be ever present with Your Grace.
In this quiet, I bask in Your rays.
In the cold and cloudy dark,
You are my Sun, always.
My heart, my soul, body, and mind,
I have dedicated to thee,
Be the solace in no other source will I find.
Steel my heart for battle, O Light.
Still my quaking soul.
For at any time war calls for my might,
Keep me focused, keep me whole.
In this quiet, I bask in Your rays.
In the cold and cloudy dark,
You are my Sun, always.
My heart, my soul, body, and mind,
I have dedicated to thee,
Be the solace in no other source will I find.
A man in his early thirties sat in a quiet room with a prayer book open on the chair next to him, both hands pressed together in meditation. Laying next to the prayer book was a summons to service with the royal seal of the Kingdom of Stormwind seen clearly on the parchment.
He was ruddy and sunkissed, typical of a man who had traveled long or spent many days working the fields, and the lilting, drawling accent that coloured his low tenor indicated that he was a native of Westfall. His hands were rough, as if though he had been steering the ox and plough or spent many days mastering the art of the Shield and Warhammer, and his ice-blue eyes glowed faintly with the very Light he had dedicated his life to. Sandy blonde hair cropped short and close to his scalp framed his face, matching a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, and a few scars from various battles he had participated in decorated what skin his simple off-duty clothing exposed.
And if I fall before I once more rise,
May I stay ever loyal to you.
If the deepest darkness take my eyes,
Light, keep my paths true.
In this quiet, I bask in Your rays.
In the cold and cloudy dark,
You are my Sun, always.
My heart, my soul, body, and mind,
I have dedicated to thee,
Be the solace in no other source will I find.
A polite knock was heard on the door leading to the room.
“Paladin Eleazar Abraham?”
Soothe my heart, dear Light,
Meet me in this place.
Calm this warrior’s soul,
Be ever present with Your Grace.
In this quiet, I bask in Your rays.
In the cold and cloudy dark,
You are my Sun, always.
My heart, my soul, body, and mind,
I have dedicated to thee,
Be the solace in no other source will I find.
Steel my heart for battle, O Light.
Still my quaking soul.
For at any time war calls for my might,
Keep me focused, keep me whole.
In this quiet, I bask in Your rays.
In the cold and cloudy dark,
You are my Sun, always.
My heart, my soul, body, and mind,
I have dedicated to thee,
Be the solace in no other source will I find.
A man in his early thirties sat in a quiet room with a prayer book open on the chair next to him, both hands pressed together in meditation. Laying next to the prayer book was a summons to service with the royal seal of the Kingdom of Stormwind seen clearly on the parchment.
He was ruddy and sunkissed, typical of a man who had traveled long or spent many days working the fields, and the lilting, drawling accent that coloured his low tenor indicated that he was a native of Westfall. His hands were rough, as if though he had been steering the ox and plough or spent many days mastering the art of the Shield and Warhammer, and his ice-blue eyes glowed faintly with the very Light he had dedicated his life to. Sandy blonde hair cropped short and close to his scalp framed his face, matching a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, and a few scars from various battles he had participated in decorated what skin his simple off-duty clothing exposed.
And if I fall before I once more rise,
May I stay ever loyal to you.
If the deepest darkness take my eyes,
Light, keep my paths true.
In this quiet, I bask in Your rays.
In the cold and cloudy dark,
You are my Sun, always.
My heart, my soul, body, and mind,
I have dedicated to thee,
Be the solace in no other source will I find.
A polite knock was heard on the door leading to the room.
“Paladin Eleazar Abraham?”
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Of Light and Void, chapter 3
---
The sun kept dipping in and out of the clouds as the infantry column marched briskly along the road leading through eastern Elwynn. The guardsmen normally patrolling it were all stepping aside with wide, wondering eyes; not so much because it had been nearly two years since a prospect like this was at all commonplace in the kingdom of Stormwind, but the fact that the frontmost third of the column was made up entirely by the curious new additions to the grand Alliance – a head taller than a man, digitigrade cloven hooves and luminous blue skin, the precise rows of the Draenei warriors marching in near-perfect lockstep were certainly a sight to behold.
She tapped the tall, armoured palomino into a small trot, catching up to her friend. The elderly Kaldorei sat comfortably astride his own steed; a massive, sabre-toothed tiger with dark, mottled fur, wearing the ornate, jewelled plating of its master’s native culture. The muscled beast padded silently alongside the Draenic cohorts, the tip of its tongue lolling as it panted slowly in the bright early-summer sun. The stallion snorted matter-of-factly at the tamed predator’s presence, and his rider clicked her tongue in a low note to bring the horse back to a controlled walk.
“Nice weather,” she remarked off-hand, leaning back in the saddle and letting the reins hang.
He looked up at her. “You two seem to be getting along fine now.”
“Eh.” She rolled her ankles in the stirrups. “He’s not a complete idiot.” The stallion let out a huff, and she chuckled and leaned forward to rub its flaxen mane.
The aged Night Elf merely smiled. “We are making good headway. At this rate, we may cross into Duskwood before afternoon.” True to his words, the forest was thinning out rapidly, the scenery beginning to shift into the naked, reddish earth and cliffsides of the Redridge mountain range.
“… mhm.” She squinted ahead, her lips pursing in momentary thought. “Hold on.” She kicked the stallion into a gallop, swiftly reaching the front of the formation. “Be right back,” she quipped as she thundered past the mounted captain spearheading the march. He opened his mouth to shout indignantly after her, but thought better of it.
Ahead of her, the road forked distinctly into three passageways: one leading onward into the undulating landscape, the next taking a sharp turn to the south-west, and the third leading back the way she had just arrived. Right at the intersection, a lone guardsman had just taken a brief stop to survey the surroundings. He unhooked a small watersack from his belt, taking a metered swig.
“Parker!” she called out, throwing a friendly wave. “Still patrolling the dusty old warpath, I see.”
The sun kept dipping in and out of the clouds as the infantry column marched briskly along the road leading through eastern Elwynn. The guardsmen normally patrolling it were all stepping aside with wide, wondering eyes; not so much because it had been nearly two years since a prospect like this was at all commonplace in the kingdom of Stormwind, but the fact that the frontmost third of the column was made up entirely by the curious new additions to the grand Alliance – a head taller than a man, digitigrade cloven hooves and luminous blue skin, the precise rows of the Draenei warriors marching in near-perfect lockstep were certainly a sight to behold.
She tapped the tall, armoured palomino into a small trot, catching up to her friend. The elderly Kaldorei sat comfortably astride his own steed; a massive, sabre-toothed tiger with dark, mottled fur, wearing the ornate, jewelled plating of its master’s native culture. The muscled beast padded silently alongside the Draenic cohorts, the tip of its tongue lolling as it panted slowly in the bright early-summer sun. The stallion snorted matter-of-factly at the tamed predator’s presence, and his rider clicked her tongue in a low note to bring the horse back to a controlled walk.
“Nice weather,” she remarked off-hand, leaning back in the saddle and letting the reins hang.
He looked up at her. “You two seem to be getting along fine now.”
“Eh.” She rolled her ankles in the stirrups. “He’s not a complete idiot.” The stallion let out a huff, and she chuckled and leaned forward to rub its flaxen mane.
The aged Night Elf merely smiled. “We are making good headway. At this rate, we may cross into Duskwood before afternoon.” True to his words, the forest was thinning out rapidly, the scenery beginning to shift into the naked, reddish earth and cliffsides of the Redridge mountain range.
“… mhm.” She squinted ahead, her lips pursing in momentary thought. “Hold on.” She kicked the stallion into a gallop, swiftly reaching the front of the formation. “Be right back,” she quipped as she thundered past the mounted captain spearheading the march. He opened his mouth to shout indignantly after her, but thought better of it.
Ahead of her, the road forked distinctly into three passageways: one leading onward into the undulating landscape, the next taking a sharp turn to the south-west, and the third leading back the way she had just arrived. Right at the intersection, a lone guardsman had just taken a brief stop to survey the surroundings. He unhooked a small watersack from his belt, taking a metered swig.
“Parker!” she called out, throwing a friendly wave. “Still patrolling the dusty old warpath, I see.”
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