Green Fire is Mine
After 8 attempts I got my Green Fire! Yay! Thank you Hexxil for helping me get the tomb, and Nyalith/Fastril/Guntok for giving me tips.
Anonymous asked: A decorated envelope would arrive to the warriadin, a stamped seal on the back of a book and a feather. "To Goldwing, my old mentor. It has been long since we last spoke, I believe you were still teaching me to swing a sword without throwing myself after the blade. You taught me much, but I have since turned from such learning and found my calling elsewhere. I hope you have not forgotten me or the memories which I hold dear. I remember those days in the gardens. Much simpler times."
"Gardens…" The man repeated the near last words again, wrinkling his nose as he reaches to press the other hand over the cover of his libram against his belt. "…It can’t possibly be Dawnstar that sent this … can it?… There aren’t many that I offered to teach.. let alone mentor. I shall have to find whoever sent this and let them know that such times are not gone in total war."
Anonymous asked: "Zae - You look like you haven't been keeping in shape. You should work on that. Would be such a shame to lose all those assets."
The man’s cheeks began to burn brightly at the letter, looking around as if expecting the writer to bound out with her cheeky laughter and a tongue sticking out in a taunt. It was a guess, but light, was it a close one as he clears his throat. “Well then..” With that, the man gave a smile, tucking the letter away.
He’d have to go visit the culprit.
Anonymous asked: "Master Goldwing— You do not know me, but I write to you as you are one of few, publicly, who has been in a position I myself may face. If your memories be bitter I will not fault you should you choose not to reply, but I wish to inquire of your romance with the Lady Phoenix, and of its dissolution. I write in search of some hope that, even with all that has passed, there may be peace between the children of Quel'thalas. What advice have you? A Friend"
The letter came to him in the same, small tidy mailbox that the courier had deposited the sealed envelope into the hatch. Opening it, the man brushes over the cover of the nameless letter, peeling it open to look to the words the stationary had written upon it. His eye brow rose at the mention of his ‘romance’ with Rennali, but he shook his head regardless. “A friend, hrm? This person speaks as she would.. I’d even say it was her if I didn’t know better.” With that, the man looked - finding the ‘return to sender’ that was at the bottom of the stationary. A way to contact her. As such, the man took the letter and set inside, preparing the reply to the mysterious letter.
matriarchoffire asked: "Valkrian, Perhaps after our deployment, I will take you up on that offer to speak. It feels as if its been nearly a year.. Meeting just to catch up would be nice. Signed, Adrya Blackdawn."
Valkrian smiled as he checked the mailbox out of his lodge, to find the stamped letter from the woman that he had a wish to see and speak with. It was, after all, in his best interest to make sure that someone that was similar to him was not going to crumble under the pressures of life. With that, he tucks the note away, heading back inside the lodge to once more work on the interior reconstruction.
aheon asked: "Perhaps you, being a goblin, can tell me what the whole point of making things that work terribly is? Just a money scheme out of the many that you may have? Or is it just bad design work."
nixalegos asked: "Duskfrost, there was two murders in Augur's Row, date was the 20th, initial reports claim dark magic was at play, but the morgue won't let a civilian in. Anyway we can talk about an investigators licence?"
The man read over the letter, squinting his eyebrows. A thought passes through his mind as he kept the words in mind, but he shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust giving him more power than he thinks he has.” A sigh broke from the magister, as he made the motion for the quill once more. “I swear. There are only a few people in this world that actually care about Augur’s Row. We don’t send constructs through there for a reason. It’s a mess. Perhaps having someone clean it up may be a fun side project to watch.” With that, he began penning a reply.
gaytheil asked: "It was nice that you finally attended a meeting. It would be even better to see you around more often. Perhaps we should get a few drinks soon?" - Moranai
The letter was read with the ghost of a smirk. “Ah.. yeah.. whatever it was I showed up to out of curiosity.. the meeting or whatever.. think I came late.” He was thinking out loud, of course, a terrible habit as his fingers brush over the words on the stationary.
"Sunstrike is quite the woman. I could go with a few drinks with her. Probably a bit more depending where the evening goes. I think she’d enjoy seeing the interior of some rooms more intimately in the manor. Maybe I’ll take her up on those drinks when I have the time."
His eyes look to the quill and a blank piece of stationary, starting to let that disappearing smirk once more be brought back to life. Reaching for the writing utensil, the man began to scribble a reply back in clean Thalassian on the paper.
Anonymous asked: "Never understood you magister types. That's what ya are right? Got them dresses on and standing there all regal like. Seem ya mooks need to mix things up a bit."
"Er…" Aheon read over the letter, squinting his eyebrows at the rather crude orcish writing. It wasn’t the biggest form of literature that the man enjoyed to either read or write in, but the man seemed to have trouble keeping a straight face as he read over the letter.
"Well.. I suppose goblins just don’t understand the finer things in life. Yet at the same time, I could see myself with one of their women. Gold and power? Seems like we’d be a good power couple. He’s got a point, though, whoever this writer is. Most of the magistrate sits around looking pretty and has the temper tantrum prone to a four year old child."
"Despite how regal they are."
I’m bored and want some prompts. Send me an IC letter to any of my characters, and I’ll write how they’d react reading to it. I’ll also send one back.
off to a tournament for the day.
yeah i’ll rp with anyone that wants to later tonight. like around 10-11.
aheon asked: "Yes, I'm as drunk as you think I am, and no, you can't take the bottle."
Adrya glared at Aheon. She had been a fool to think to come and speak to him. He was a mess, she knew. He could stand well enough, but the effect of the alcohol always showed in his eyes.Rather than take the bottle to relieve him of his toxin, the woman slapped it clean from his hand and watched it shatter on the floor of his study.
"Alright. If that’s how you’re going to behave, then don’t bother trying to come see Vala. Don’t bother trying to come see me when I’ve given birth. I don’t want you in their life if you’re going to drink like this."
The woman snarled at him and turned quickly on her heel, leaving him there to stare at the shattered bottle on the floor. There was something there, he thought. Some metaphor of how she broke everything.
aheon asked: "Don't go."
It was with no small amount of relief that the woman took the bottle as Aheon’s head fell to the desk. The thing was quickly taken away and locked within one of the larger drawers of the heavy oaken desk. Giving the man ample time to get over the manipulative tactic, Drissa continued on with her work, mapping out yet another room for the movers to settle yet more of the freshly arrived furnishings.
Every now and again she would look up to watch him fight against sleep, rather like she normally did. Heavy eyes would close only to jerk back open to stare up at her, the fireplace and the double doors that lead out to the training courtyard… Anything but the backs of his eyelids. But for the scratch of her quill, silence filled the office.
The pair would continue on stubbornly, each refusing to speak to the other until, after what felt like hours the soft mumble of his voice sounded. “Driss, I’m tired.”
“Go lie down on the chaise,” the priestess replied, pointing to the furniture with the end of her quill.
For once, the man did as she asked without argument or elaboration, flopping down on his stomach to sprawl out in his drunken state. Sighing softly, the woman shook her head but didn’t look up so that he might see the concern written on her features. He was slipping away, back into that man she’d hated in the beginning, but she could pretend not to notice, just for a bit longer. Maybe between now and then, she’d find a way to save him.
Patiently, the woman would wait for his breathing to stabilize and all signs of sleep to wrap themselves about the Magister. When it finally seemed as though he was good and asleep, the headmistress rose from her desk to move about the room and extinguish the lamps. From her bag came her trusty blue blanket to be carefully draped over the sleeping magister.
No movement or sound was made to acknowledge the movements and as such, Drissa was certain she would be able to slip from the room without waking her friend. No sooner than her hand touched the handle did she hear his voice.
Stopping at his words, she turned to look over her shoulder. A silent prayer went up for the darkness hiding the pain on her features.
“Drissa, I just… I… Please?”
There was a moment’s hesitation before she simply nodded and moved away from the door. “I can work for a bit longer, go back to sleep.”
And so dawn would find the pair – the magister asleep on the chaise with the priestess keeping her silent vigil.