Written by | Posted November 19, 2013 – 4:46 pm Deconstruction

Bad things are happening in Stormwind – and beyond.

The Hand of Lothar, they call themselves.

Yva Darrows was their first target.

Tirith and Aely were their second and third.

They have since… expanded their reach and escalated their methods …

filed under Feature, Roleplay
Riders of Lordaeron
comment Comments Off Written by on September 7, 2013 – 9:02 am

“Light sent me ye when I needed ye afore – an’ now again when I need ye. I canna ask fir more than tha’.” She sighed and slung the shield back across her shoulders. “It’s… Light. Been awhile hasna it? Well, what e’er else has happened in th’ last years, th’ Bloody Prince is dead, Jols. I wis there fir that much. Ye dinna get ta see it, but we won in th’ end.”

“Ah ken,” he said quietly. “Ah…felt ‘im die,” he said, uncertainly. He sat for a moment, working out how to explain it. “This lan’ was full ay tha dead. Souls trapped in…perpetual battle. Tha dey ‘ee died…well, le’s jes’ say ay lot ay tormen’ ended.”

“‘s been a lot ay torment since though. Th’ world’s been torn apart an’ put back t’gether, an’ new worlds explored. Things dinna change, but that they change a lot, though I s’pose tha’s nae surprise. I’ve been married an’… an’ widowed. Th’ farm’s gone. Wir still th’ Wildfire Riders though – Tarquin an’ Annie an’ Threnn an’ Bricu an’… well, an’ some new faces. Do ye… wan’ ta come back?”

“Ay bloody well cannae keep hauntin’ ‘is place,” he replied, then shook his head. “Nae, tha’s nae raight. There’s…things ‘at shoulda been said, ah’ve nae said. Things lef’ undone.”

Aely bent and picked up her mace from the dust where it lay by the fire, slipping it back into it’s loop at her belt. With a sigh and a gentle clatter of armor, she sat down on the other half of the now-split log. “I think we’ve all go’ things unsaid, Jols. If ye’ve any ay it ta say ta me, I’m listenin’. An’ if nae t’ me, then I’ll do what I can ta help ye say it.”

“In time,” he replied quietly. “Fel, ah’ve got ah lot o’et oan me han’s nae.” He looked over at her again. “Ah’m sorreh fer yer loss, luv. Ah’ve…been ‘ere a’fore.”

She nodded. “It’s… well, it’s a long story. Fir another time, I think. I need ta keep my wits abaet me.” After a few moments, she gave him a hard look. “How, Jols? I watched yir body burn ta ash, an’ cleansed tha’ place fir years.”

Jol grunted, a sound that had been missing for too long. He got up and checked the boarsmeat still roasting on the spit, then tore off a large chunk without much regard for the heat. “Yeh ken tha ring, aye? Tha wunn Brick made?”

“Aye.” She nodded. “Th’ one ye lost, wha’ had th’ plague protections in it.”

Jolly nodded, tearing into the haunch of meat. “Somebodeh foun’ ‘et. An’ laight, wos we luckeh.

“Like ay said, ah ken when tha Bloodah Prince fell. Ah also ken sommat wos up when ah saw tha Val’kyr in Lordaeron. ‘Ey’s ah nasty plight ay bitches, ‘ey be. But ‘ey ain’ all sae evil. One foun’ meh ring in tha Tarren rivah, an’ she used ‘et tae…summon meh. More’n jes’ tha plague wos in ‘at ring, an’ ah b’lieve ‘er. She tol’ me ay ‘ow tha Val’kyr had foun’ nae masters, an’ tol’ me more ’bout tha Aes’kyr who barred me from passin’ oan.” He swallowed down another big bite of boar, then looked…displeased with what he was about to say next. “Ah ‘elped ‘er find ah feller from tha Monastery. She used tha same magic ‘et siphoned tha Scourge from me tae…siphon tha lad out ay him.”

He looked down at his grease-stained hands, empty of food and so different from the ones he had long become used to. “Tha grea’er good, aye?”

Aely grimaced, and made a sign of warding. “Tha’s foul magic. Ye ken how I feel about Scarlets, but… tha’s unnatural an’ foul. I dinna call it good, ta ha’ such evil oan either ay ye.” She looked at him, bitterness creeping into the edges of her voice. “I suppose ye wir happy ta take form again?”

“Which yeh think ah’d rather?” He asked back hotly. “Roamin’ tha fuckin’ glen like some woe-is-me bint, watchin’ as folk make shite decisions an’ lose tha land ay love? ‘Er gamble ay soul ‘et’s already been damned, an’ try tae bring ah lil’ violence tae ‘ey who jes’ dunnae ken when tae lay doen an’ stay dead!?” Jol got up, pacing back and forth around the campfire. “Nae. Nae, it ain’ tha Val’kyr an ay yeh got tae worreh ’bout. She’s been d’stroyed annahwey. She gave meh life, an’ somebodeh else took it. And tha ring.”

“So th’ Val’kyr is destroyed, an’ yir here. An’ somebody else has yir ring? Dinna tha’ give them a lot ay power o’er ye?”

“No tha yet, ah thin’. ‘Ey must nae ken ‘ow tae use ‘et. Othahwise, ah dunnae thank ah’d ‘ave such control oan me own.” He scrubbed a hand through his grimey hair. “Ah’ll find ‘em, kill ‘em, take tha ring an’ ‘en…figger it oot from ‘ere.”

“‘s nae much ta go oan, but I suppose it’s all there is. If I can help, ye’ve but ta ask.” Aely watched him pace for a few moments more and then asked, “Jols, when’s th’ last time ye had a bath?”

He stopped and looked at her, and then it started. It bubbled up from deep in his belly, gurgling up like a bass drum being beaten to death. It rolled out boomingly, a heartfelt laugh he hadn’t felt since long before the Scourge, the Riders, the War and many other odd memories. It went on for a good while, nearly doubling him over with the sheer…openness of it. “Laight!” he finally wheezed, stumbling himself over to the log and plopping down again. “Val’kyr, deaders, ah fuckin’ ring ‘et could turnin’ me intae ah murderin’ maniac, an’…apparen’lah ah stink!” He started guffawing again, nearly falling off the log. “Laight’s sake, ah missed yeh lassie. Ah did.”

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