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Post by brayden on Jul 30, 2006 18:19:41 GMT -5
((This was written after some inspiration from the "Another Day, Another Death" thread. This is one of those 90+% sure it'll never happen things, but you never know. Be warned. This is borderline disturbing.))
Brayden smoothed the front of his robes out of habit as he paced back and forth in his office at the top of the Wizard's Sanctum in Stormwind City. There wasn't much that could unnerve the young archmage, but this meeting was managing to do it. He had only met his soon-to-be-arriving guest once before, at the ceremony in which he was raised to the office of archmage, and that meeting still gave him nightmares.
Mathias Shaw was not a man to be trifled with.
The young archmage double-checked the ward he had placed around his office against scrying and eavesdropping, and recited a complex incantation that he had developed shortly after ascending to the office of Archmage. An assassin's blade can kill a mage as quickly as it can kill a nobleman, Brayden reasoned, and so with the help of his guildmates he had created a simple spell that turned the back of any robe he was wearing into a fabric with the resilience of elementium. His protections in place, he again took his seat and waited on Shaw to arrive. While he waited, he turned his focus to the hundreds of blueprints and drawings on his massive obsidian desk.
"The future..." he thought aloud as he ran his fingers over the plans almost reverently. His reverie was broken by a sharp rap on the door, and without any further announcement, the head of Stormwind Intelligence strode arrogantly into the office.
"You've got a lot of nerve summoning me, boy. Under normal circumstances I decide when I will meet someone. Now tell me what you want so I can say no and you can stop wasting my time. I'm a busy man," Shaw demanded.
"I know you're a busy man, Mathias, so I'll cut to the chase. It's no big secret that I've never really liked Stormwind. It was built for merchants and trade, not as a home for mages. These plans on my desk are for the rebuilding of Dalaran, a project I intend to see completed within the next five years. This is where you come in, Shaw. You're going to give me the gold I need to make this happen."
Shaw sat in stunned silence for what seemed like hours, when suddenly he began to laugh. Hysterically. "What gives you the idea that SI:7 has the kind of resources to fund the building of a city? And hell, boy, what in the hell makes you think I'd open my coffers for you?"
"Don't play stupid with me, Shaw. I know exactly how much money SI:7 is sitting on. You pride yourself on having eyes and ears everywhere. Allow me to let you in on a little secret, Mat. Magic sees all. I've perused your ledgers, your payroll, your assignment logs. Hell, I've even read your personal journals. You have no secrets from me, Shaw. None. I know you've been watching every move the Wildfire Riders have made in the past ten years, waiting on Tarquin to slip, so you can get your hateful little hands on him. I know everything, Shaw. That is why you'll give me what I ask."
The old rogue's face suddenly drained of its color, and Brayden knew he had him. Anything else would be posturing, and to Shaw's credit, he recovered nicely. "Lies. You have no proof, Archmage. What will you do, go before the Council of Nobles and present your 'evidence'? If you know what you claim to know, you're well aware that I have them in my pocket. Fordragon? Benedictus? I own them too. So tell me, little archmage, wha--"
"Silence, Shaw," Brayden uttered with a word of power, and Shaw fell mute. The old rogue's mind raced. Shaw had always prided himself on knowing his adversary completely. He never saw this coming. The man widely regarded as the most powerful man in Stormwind could only mouth a single word in horror.
"Shadow."
"Now that I have your attention, and I'm certain you won't be interrupting me anymore, allow me to spell out the specifics of this negotiation. You will provide to me whatever resources I need to rebuild Dalaran. Manpower, money, equipment, anything. You will provide it. And to show I'm a fair man, you won't be walking away from this deal empty-handed, Shaw. I'm going to give you the one thing you want more than anything else in this world. You may speak now."
Mathias Shaw could only stare blankly at this young man that he had so terribly underestimated. "Wh-what do you mean?"
Brayden shot Mathias Shaw a look that made the old rogue's blood run cold.
"I'm going to give you ap Danwyrith."
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Post by Tarq on Jul 30, 2006 18:24:51 GMT -5
((Bray, this is awesome. Talk to me on IRC or ingame ASAP, I've got a ton of ideas.))
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Post by brayden on Jul 30, 2006 18:30:19 GMT -5
((I'm in IRC and in-game right now, dude.))
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itanyablade
Guild Member
Inherently Sarcastic
Posts: 838
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Post by itanyablade on Jul 31, 2006 10:38:29 GMT -5
((Brayden! You make Cylinn sad! ))
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Post by brayden on Aug 1, 2006 1:15:10 GMT -5
"You're going to do what?"
"Give you Tarquin, as payment for your assistance. You see, Shaw, unlike the rest of my guild, I have the ability to see the big picture. Omelets and eggs and all that. I know more than anything you wish to see Tarquin suffer. But as it stands now, you can't get to him. Because the fact is, Shaw, if you don't agree to help me, you are against me. And with the might of Stormwind's mages behind me, you'll never get your spiteful mitts on ap Danwyrith."
"But...why?"
"I told you. I have the foresight to see what this world needs. A center of arcane power. A place for mages of every ilk to call home. Human, gnome, troll, Forsaken, Sin'Dorei. All of them. A haven for mages to come and study. Imagine the power we will achieve! The discoveries! The world at our fingertips, Shaw. This is my vision. And if I have to break a few eggs, then so be it. I will have my home again, rogue," the suddenly ominous young archmage said with a twisted grin.
Shaw's face drained again as he heard the tone of Vansen's voice turn to that of a zealot. "B-but to get to ap Danwyrith...we have to eliminate others...his wife. The paladin Asmadi. The warlock Rusah and her elf rogue. Bittertongue and that little tart paladin of his. That insane mage and her druid. The priests Oreweave and Leafwhisper, the druid Na'shaile, Crownsilver, many others...I have tried, but they are too tightly knit to separate."
"Shaw, you leave Alishe out of this. She has a child to take care of, and I will not leave a young one to fend for itself. As for the rest, simple enough. Ceil is prone to disappear for days at a time. Time your strike well enough and she'll never even know until you send her the body. Kuoshiro is dangerous, but hopelessly naive. And well, he's honestly about as smart as this desk here.
"Catrily is weak. Sickly. Slip something into her tea, and she'll waste away. Slowly and painfully. Once she passes, Elyle will be worthless. Hell, the man can't even take a shit without asking Catrily first.
"Bricu is a complete drunkard, doesn't know where he is half the time. And he's passed his little habit to Threnn. Such a happy oblivious couple. They are of no concern. Azka and Thantrus...if things weren't as they are, they'd be a problem, simply because they're both bat-shit crazy. However, do a little research and you'll notice something odd about Thantrus that wouldn't exactly go over well with Alliance authorities. Azka already has several arrests on her record, so doing away with her should be simple enough.
"Delion and Indara, well, the secret there is Shaila Viridiant. Once Shaila is out of the way, Delion will grieve terribly for about twenty minutes before he and Leafwhisper are fucking each other's brains out. Yes, I know about the 'delivery boy' you had walk in on them about ten years ago. They can't keep their hands off each other.
"I have Genise buried under so much paperwork at the library that she won't see the sun for another three years. Ulthanon is like Ceil, he vanishes into the wild for weeks on end. He's easily avoided. And Chryste...well, let's just say I have Chryste well in hand. Both hands, actually," Brayden said with a lewd grin that made Shaw recoil a little.
Shaw's stunned silence gave way to what could only be described as a look of euphoria as the young mage recited his litany of weaknesses within the Riders. "I'm curious, Vansen. Why should I trust you?"
Brayden laughed as if Shaw had just said the funniest thing he had ever heard. "Ah, the age-old question: How do you trust a betrayer? Allow me to answer your question with one of my own. Are you a gambling man, Mathias?"
"I've been known to try my hand, when the odds are in my favor."
"Then take a chance. Roll the dice. If I'm lying, then I'm setting you up. If I'm truthful, I'm setting my family up. Either way, I'm a betrayer. Roll the dice."
The aging rogue stood and gave a formal bow, surprisingly smooth considering his age. "The money will be transferred to your account in the morning, Archmage. For Dalaran, and revenge," Shaw said with a wicked grin.
"I'll leave you to work out the specifics in all the cases, save Rusah. I'm working on an agent specifically for this purpose. As for the rest, I don't need to know how you plan on killing my brothers and sisters. Omelets and eggs and all that." The mage stood and opened a small portal directly into Shaw's private quarters in SI:7, and Shaw was snapped back to sobriety as he realized this man really did have eyes and ears everywhere. "Farewell, Shaw. I look forward to spending your money. You are dismissed, rogue," Brayden said with a wave of his hand that sent Shaw flying violently back through the portal.
Brayden sealed the portal closed and not even a moment later the door to his chambers opened. A tall, strikingly beautiful woman sauntered into the room, the sway of her hips catching the young archmage's eye. Brayden stood and walked around the desk to meet her, and she shoved him down against the desk. She straddled him, and tucked the dyed blood-red strands of hair back behind her ear where it contrasted against the rest of her jet black hair. "That meeting took too long, Bray. I had to start without you," the woman said as she hungrily licked her lips.
"Sorry Chryste, important matters involving some friends of ours," Brayden said as he reached up to tear the thin gown off of her.
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Post by Chrystal Kaleigh on Aug 1, 2006 12:41:17 GMT -5
*CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!*
The crack of wooden training swords echoed through the training hall. Several guards were all gathered around their usual spots, watching, instructing, and practicing themselves, in order to best defend Stormwind from all threats.
*CLACK! CLACK! CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK!*
A sudden fierce, rapid smacking of wood sounded through the hall, causing most to pause and turn to witness the commotion. Back in the far corner of the hall, two women were training.
The first of the two was Azaria, a young Sergeant Major in the guard. She was tall, very tall, and despite her muscled form, was definitely noted as a woman of beauty and grace. Her size also made it easy to carry the massive training sword she swung about, moving aggressively as if trying to behead her very partner with it.
The second of the two was Chryste, who had grown slightly over the years, nearly making it to 5’8”, but just not quite there. She had never really changed much in her form, save for a few tattoos adorning her right arm. Even the lip ring and nose piercing were still there. One might even say that the young woman only got better with age.
One thing for sure is that her knife fighting did…
The rapid clacking of wood continued as the black and red-haired warrior swung her long, wooden knives in a flurry, beating back the massive training sword of Azaria, who’s eyes widened as she scattered to fend off the attack. Anyone watching on would have swore that Chryste wasn’t even trying to hit her opponent; she was simply taking it to the sword.
Showing off perhaps?
“By the Light, Chrystal,” Azaria exclaimed as she backed from the circle! “This is why they call you The Blinding Fury, no doubt!”
Chryste inclined her head in a friendly bow. Even with all the skills she had obtained in her studies over the years, her humbleness was still intact. Even after besting Darak the Dark, Blood Elf rogue, and captain of the forces at Alterac Valley to finally cause an end to that war, she had nothing arrogant to say.
“Thank you,” she calmly responded, unaware of the new commotion behind them all as Lord Arovel Lescovar had entered with his own personal guard.
The young lord often came to visit the guards. Not out of a sense of decency, however. It was well noted that like most of his family, he was as corrupt as Felwood drinking water. He just simply had an odd fetish for watching violence take place, and where better than a sparring hall?
“I try my hardest,” Chryste continued after her thanks. “Brayden is so proud of my abilities, he says, but sometimes I think it’s just the love talking.”
Chryste chuckled, but Azaria did not. “What the fuck did you just say?” She questioned The Black Metal Rogue, a biting tone to her voice.
“Hmm?” Chryste blinked, looking genuinely confused.
“Did you just refer to Brayden as your lover?”
“Yes,” Chryste responded, seeming taken aback. “Archmage Brayden, only Brayden in Stormwind, my husband…”
“LYING WHORE!”
And with that scream from Azaria, everything paused once again, including the company of the Lord Noble Lescovar.
“I’ve no idea what kind of sick fiend you are, but he’s -my- husband! We’ve been married for years!” Azaria growled out the words, forcing Chryste’s eyes to widen, a mix of disbelief and anger.
“Stop it…” She calmly responded, holding in her anger, despite wanting to gut the tall woman just on the principle of her words alone. “I don’t know if you’re upset over losing or what, but goading me into a fight is no way to-----“
Before Chryste could even finish her response, she was cut off by the furious Sergeant Major. “LYING WHORE! HE’S MINE!”
Overhwlemed with genuine anger, Azaria hurled the large training sword around, swinging it directly at Chryste’s head! The shorter warrior was so confused… Why was Azaria so upset? Why was she insisting Brayden be her husband, when Chryste herself knew the truth?!
Coming to her senses at the last moment, Chryste’s hand suddenly shot upwards, her plated glove just, -catching- the blade of the sword, nearly knocking her off balance; but for the sake of not being shown up, she managed to stay on her feet, staring up at her taller adversary.
Plated glove or not, that stung. It was more of a wake up call for Chryste, who suddenly realized the intent of the soldier.
”She’s only been training with me to learn me… To be me… So she can have him after she’s killed me in secret…”
Chryste’s expression turned from calm to anger, and swinging her free arm around and down onto the training sword, she snapped it clean in two.
“If you want to fight,” She hissed, “Fight me for real, deceiver!”
Not even fearing a stab in the back, Chryste turned away and stomped over to her locker. Reaching inside she ripped free a bandolier, lined with an assortment of knives, collected in her years of adventuring. A Gutgore Ripper, Qiraji knives of all sorts, the tooth of a Core hound, the fiery Perdition’s, her famed Lobotomizer, and her own personally forged, Blade of the Blinding, one of the most lethal and wicked looking blades one might ever see.
Azaria hissed as well and turned to her side, yanking up the freakishly large claymore that she never let slip more than a few feet away. Gripping it with both hands, she waiting on Chryste, who slid out her Blade of the Blinding and her glowing black Gutgore, turning to marsh towards the training circle.
Both were met by an objection of several soldiers running to get in between them. Chryste growled, looking past them to Azaria, and she hissed, threatening to clear them all in a single swipe of that massive blade.
“What is this?!” A voice suddenly rang out over the crowd, regal and strong. Everyone but Chryste and Azaria looked, settling their attention upon Lord Arovel Lescovar, who made a parting motion with his hands, ordering the soldiers aside.
“What is the problem, ladies?”
“She’s trying to usurp my life, and take my love,” Chryste hissed viciously!
“Lying whore! You’re insane!” was Azaria’s response.
Lord Lescovar tittered, apparently amused. “It sounds to me like someone has had their honor sullied… But who is in the right? It’d be a shame to not let this be resolved by allowing one to keep her honor…”
“M’lord…” The drill sergeant in charge began to question, but was simply hushed by the continuing words of the young noble.
“These two women will fight a duel of honor as they wish, right here, and right now! It shall be known that the victor was in the right, and any and all crimes applicable for murder will not apply; this is officially a duel sanctioned by the laws of Stormwind.”
The sergeant sighed, but like most of his student, turned to watch; this was going to be a hell of a fight!
Or was it…?
Wasting no time to begin, Azaria bull-rushed Chryste, deftly slinging that glowing claymore around and directly at her throat!
Chryste ducked, dodging the blow with ease.
It was expected, however, and Azaria continued in full turn, bringing the sword around once again in an attempt to overpower the smaller woman.
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks; but an old dog knows all of the old tricks.
Chryste hopped into the air using that roguish nimbleness that made her so famous. Kicking down, she stomped the swinging blade down to the ground and right out of Azaria’s hands, her free foot kicking the taller woman in the head with enough force to knock her helmet completely from her head!
Not giving her opponent even a moment to recover, Chryste drove her Gutgore right into her shoulder, between the plates of her armor, and ripped it sideways, tearing at the woman’s shoulder and severing the leather straps that held the armor together!
Azaria screamed in pain as blood shot up from her flesh, wetting Chryste in a vile shade of crimson. Living up to her name, the Blinding Fury grasped at the armor and jerked back, tearing it completely from Azaria’s chest!
Chryste spun aside as the woman stumbled past from the force of the pull, and drove her Gutgore down and deep into her opponents kidney; once again, another shrill cry, once again, another spurt of blood…
Chryste released the dagger and moved back a few steps; her motions so fluid that one would believe her armor to be paper… It was a little known fact, however, that it was enchanted to be so light, allowing her protection and motion both.
Azaria was determined, unwilling to give up, obsessed…
She snatched up her sword with her good arm, and made her best attempt to turn to her opponent. She was frightened… She knew that she had lost, and mercy would be her only escape from this fight.
Would Chryste show her mercy?
There was a whirling sound in Azaria’s ear, a whirling she couldn’t quite make out, but it went swiftly… And no sooner than she could rise to face her opponent, she was knocked clean off her feet…
Chryste’s distancing was merely for her own personal benefit. Tossing her Blinding Blade up and catching it by the sharp, arcanite blade, she spun a full circle and released it, sending the knife into Azaria’s chest with so much force that it knocked the woman over a foot backwards in the air! The mighty bones of her ribcage splintered and separated, giving way to the legendary blade.
The onlooking guards cringed. It was very well known now that this fight would only have one living remnant, but no one spoke up, in fear of angering the Lord Noble…
Slowly now, Chryste began to walk over towards Azaria, who laid on her back, kicking, twitching, and coughing up blood. The Blinding Fury leaned down, gritting her teeth as she snatched her former friend up by the hair and drew her Lobotomizer from it’s sheathe.
“He’s mine…” she quietly hissed, gripping the dagger with the blade facing downwards. “You… Will not… Steal him!”
Chryste let herself go… In a blinding flurry of stabs and cross-slices, she mutilated the barely-living body of Sergeant Major Azaria with more stabs than anyone but Lescovar probably cared to count.
Ignoring the praise of the Lord Noble and the words of anyone else, Chryste left the sparring hall that very moment, walking to the tower amidst the frightened townsfolk, her steps slow, weary, and shaken…
……
Brayden had already heard the news. Those closest to his secrets were sure to warn him of the incoming “wife” of the Archmage of Stormwind. He stood in his chambers, pacing the floor in (mock?) worry, until finally, the chamber door finally opened.
“Chrystal,” he exclaimed, worry laced within his voice as he rushed to the door, intercepting the bloodied woman before she could say anything.
“Are you ok? I heard what happened and was so worried. Some of the lunatics in this city, I swear!”
Chryste was still shaken. It had been years since she fought a duel to the death, the Battle of Alterac being the last one, to be exact. Murder never felt so great when the adrenaline left the bloodstream…
“S…She won’t hurt you now, my love…” Chryste quietly whispered, hardly even able to speak.
Brayden flashed what might have been a genuine smile. Or perhaps the obsessive woman simply believed it to be in her own mind. But willing to go to any extreme for his secrets, Brayden showed his love for his wife, drawing her in, bloodied armor and all, and hugging her lovingly.
“No, Chrystal, she won’t,” he quietly whispered in a soothing tone. “Come, let us go to the bath and clean you up; that despicable wench doesn’t deserve the honor of staining the flesh of my wife…”
Chryste’s teeth chattered as her lips curved into a smile, it was all the assurance she needed to know that Brayden was indeed faithful, and that Azaria was nothing more than a jealous rogue, looking to usurp her life…
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Yva
Guild Member
Zombie Yvas
Posts: 684
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Post by Yva on Aug 1, 2006 12:59:47 GMT -5
((I in equal parts love and hate this thread.))
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itanyablade
Guild Member
Inherently Sarcastic
Posts: 838
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Post by itanyablade on Aug 1, 2006 13:53:37 GMT -5
((You know you love it! ))
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Post by brayden on Aug 1, 2006 21:39:24 GMT -5
((Emperor Braypatine is pleased.))
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Alishe
Guild Member
I have absolutely nothing witty to say.
Posts: 314
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Post by Alishe on Aug 2, 2006 18:27:50 GMT -5
((Woah.. just.. woah. *grins* And wow too! *still silently ponders how Alishe got the easy out when others have younglings too, but decides to keep her mouth shut* ))
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Post by brayden on Aug 6, 2006 18:21:58 GMT -5
Bleed out all empathy This vessel has no spirit left to hold on to Lies I've lived in full
How long can I hold out With every movement tension fights and denies My true nature
Balance has shifted Warped, sick, and twisted Grabbing at angels when I fall Because I am more than this idol Endless recital for all my demons to applaud I am free
Hide myself from it all While every fear is screaming night into dawn But still I find
The balance has shifted Warped, sick, and twisted Grabbing at angels when I fall Because I am more than this idol Endless recital for all my demons to applaud I am free
There's something not right about this...lies...
I have to believe them...lies In order to attain fulfillment I have to succumb to...lies All my inner fears that tear at me I will never believe them...lies I'm sick of the weakness that controls me
Now that I have fallen I will not repent
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Post by brayden on Aug 15, 2006 7:19:41 GMT -5
Four years before Brayden's meeting with Shaw
Brayden paced nervously back and forth in his home in Stormwind. More friends than he could count were crammed into the small house, so many in fact that his pacing was somewhat limited to just a scant few steps. He felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him, the smiles, the anticipation.
"Bray...sit down. You're going to walk a hole in the floor," Catrily said with a warm smile and a chuckle. "How many times have we gone through this with Azka now?"
Brayden gave Catrily a nervous smile and looked back towards a closed door as a pain-wracked scream came from behind it. "Tah..." he whispered as he instinctively moved for the door, only to feel a hand grabbing his arm. He glanced at the paladin that had grabbed him, and managed a small smile.
"She'll be fine, Brayden. 'swhat women go through when they're bringin' ye child inta the world," Prydion said reassuringly, and Brayden nodded nervously and began to pace again. "She'll love ye when it's over." Prydion laughed and, despite his intentions, Brayden did too.
His laughter died quickly as the screams intensified. Louder and louder Tahirah Vansen screamed, until it seemed the entire city could hear her. Then suddenly....she stopped. The deafening noise from the room behind the closed door ceased instantly. Brayden walked to the door and pressed his ear to it, listening desperately and anxiously for the crying of his child.
Instead he heard prayers, both to Elune and to the Light. He felt the magic pulsing in the room. A torrent of holy power flooded into the closed room, and Prydion jumped to his feet and pulled Brayden away from the door. Moments later, the door opened, Alishe and MacMoran walking somberly with empty arms to the young mage.
"Ah'm sorreh, lad. We did all we could. She wouldna come back t' us. Ah'm so sorreh, lad," the rugged dwarf said through tears. Alishe wandered over to her husband and buried her head against his shoulder, sobbing.
Brayden's eyes filled with tears as he stared past the paladin to the body of his wife. His words came unbelievably calmly. "What of my child?'
"Lad...we los' th' child tae. Ev'rythin' we tried...th' Light wouldnae hear me...Bray lad...Ah'm sorreh."
Brayden numbly walked into the room where his wife lay. "Tahirah...love...talk to me, please...Tahirah? Tahirah! Light, please, talk to me!" The rest of his words were lost to tears, his entire body heaving as a fierce torrent of arcane energy spilled from his body into hers. "I can't live without you, Tah! Light, please, come back to me!"
Every eye in the house was on the young man sobbing uncontrollably over the love of his life. After what seemed like hours had passed, Alishe managed to somewhat compose herself enough to walk over and put her arms around the young mage, leading him away from the bed. Brayden had nothing left to stop her. He let himself be pulled away from the woman he had loved more deeply than anything else in the world, holding her hand as long as he could reach her.
Two days later, Brayden Vansen stood in the finest clothes he owned on a beach in Stranglethorn Vale, surrounded by his guild--his family-- and friends as he laid his wife to rest. The very same beach where they had first professed their love for each other, where they had first made love, where they had been married just a couple of years before. Alishe Na'Shaile asked Elune to watch over Tahirah's and the child's spirits. MacMoran consecrated the burial ground with a prayer to the Light. Brayden Vansen said nothing, tears streaming down his cheeks the entire time.
After Alishe's words, Brayden walked over to the small grave that held the body of his daughter and kneeled down. "Alyssa Rayne...my child...I love you...I will see you one day," he whispered through his tears. He kissed his fingertips and placed them at the head of the small mound. He turned to the grave of his wife and whispered again. "Tahirah Kauseo...light of my life...keeper of my heart...fire of my soul...mother of my child...you are my everything...how can I live without you? I love you, my heart. I will see you again, I promise. I'll find you."
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Post by brayden on Aug 16, 2006 19:24:46 GMT -5
The days following Tahirah's funeral found Brayden at Alishe and Prydion's home in Ashenvale. The druidess refused to let Brayden be alone except when he slept, dragging him out to her garden and into the forest around her home to keep him occupied. The kids kept him busy enough. They loved having "Uncle Brayden" around, and truth be told, he loved being around them. Between playing with the children, creating ice sculptures for Alishe's garden, and talking politics with Prydion, Brayden managed to keep his mind from his loss for the most part.
But at night his dreams haunted him. He would lie down, reach over to hold her, and then the tears would flow. Alishe and Prydion heard his weeping each night until he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. In time they began to urge him to get out and learn to live again, to get back in touch with those who had meant so much to him. He couldn't bring himself to tell Prydion and Alishe that he had tried to see and talk to them, but no one seemed to have the time.
Tarquin and Ceil were off on yet another adventure together. Catrily never left Ironforge anymore, opting instead to stay at home with Elyle. Azka seemed to be in a state of permanent pregnancy. No sooner than she would give birth to one child would she become pregnant with another, it seemed. Delion had retired to his business in Stormwind, and more or less buried himself in it and in his family. To Brayden it seemed he was hiding from something that he didn't want to face. Bricu and Threnn were married shortly before Tahirah had passed, and had spent the past five months as they had spent their courtship, in a drunken and naked stupor. Indara was, once again, in Azshara. She was always there, even moreso since her ugly split with Ulthanon. They had nearly killed each other during the break-up, Ulthanon's Highborne past becoming more than Indara could handle. Genise spent her time alternately doting over her child and Galedorin, finally being happy after all the turmoil with Halaster. Kuoshiro was happily oblivious to nearly everything around him, immersing himself in service to the Light and taking his crusade to the doorstep of the Scourge's power. The Order of the Silver Hand had more or less been reborn under his leadership, and his time was spent in Northrend for the most part.
Aside from Prydion and Alishe, Chrystal Kaleigh was the only person to take the time to see how Brayden was doing. All she had done was make a quick visit after he had returned to Stormwind, but it was more than anyone else had done save Prydion and Alishe. Each day that passed, each attempt to reunite with his friends that was denied or ignored, he felt more and more isolated and distant from the guild. These people, his supposed family, had abandoned him when he needed them the most. For the first time since he left Northshire Abbey some twelve years earlier, Brayden Vansen was completely and utterly alone.
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Post by brayden on Aug 17, 2006 14:54:13 GMT -5
((I've given warning before, but I feel the need to re-emphasize. This story is going to get VERY ugly, for all parties involved. Incredibly bad things will happen to your characters. Things that in the actual timeline of their lives, they'd never do. Please remember this is entirely speculation, and the fantastical musings of my warped little mind.
Also, many of the coming posts will be not suitable for work. Quick heads-up.))
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itanyablade
Guild Member
Inherently Sarcastic
Posts: 838
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Post by itanyablade on Aug 17, 2006 15:34:35 GMT -5
((HAH! Kill em all I say! ))
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