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Log in“To Serathor Suncrown, wherever you may be" [A short letter]
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Re: “To Serathor Suncrown, wherever you may be" [A short letter]
Dusty Thu Nov 14, 2013 10:40 am
Fenvir's response to the story was unexpectedly reserved. The joy of seeing his son alive was confronted by the news about Chimes, but in his heart and mind he never let one sensation dilute the other.
«Where have you seen her for the last time? Let's make preparations for the march-»
«A nap first, I'll be useless. Fifty yards to the south-east from here be plenty of bear tracks. It's a good thing you don't keep food in the cabin. He'll come back at night, they always come back. He'll be coming back again and again until we do something about it. For now he is after the food tent. Have you never had a bear before?»
«I believe I haven't. But-»
«Ofcourse. There weren't any food until-.»
«-But I'll just keep watch while you sleep. And make preparations.»
«That is such a splendid idea. I wish we had guns though...» - Serathor began to doze off and was fast asleep in a moment.
«But what about the troll?»
That question remained unanswered for the pale face with a slight beard which has grown just a little during all the adventures was captured by so deep a slumber he could be mistaken for a dry corpse. Fenvir went to and fro, pulled some fresh clothes for Serathor from his old battered chest, two perfectly balanced high elven shortswords with narrow blades and an ashenvale bow about which existance he forgot until now, then he took his runed sword that has been laying across the kitchen table all these days and moved his armchair opposite the door, his sword on his lap. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the left a little, right ear hears best.
There was the storm proclaiming the song of frost, vastness and the ice-clad seas beyond. A few hours after midnight the blizzard ceased but never died, it simply went to rest and the very landscape was it's luxury bed. Fenvir heard a quiet noise braking the perfect silence, coming from far away, but very real at the same time. Fenvir's attention concentrated there, outside, on the edge of the moonlit glade. It sounded like an intermediate of a snort and a growl — now nearer. Serathor sprang up, his eyes open and still asleep. They heard the fur rustle against the snowdrifts at amazing speed.
«The bow's on the table.»
They rushed out of the cabin. The animal hesitated for a second and an arrow stuck in it's side.
«Couldn't do worse! What a shame, I got him in the belly.»
The huge predator roared and charged. Another quick black snake darted above the untouched snow and pierced bear's shoulder. It roared even louder and ran faster. A memory or rather a feeling of the days when he fought bears in the arena struck Fenvir. One more arrow went between the beast's eyes and it was still running with an arrow in its skull. Serathor reached for the next arrow and out went the beast's eye. By that time the fur was all bloody and it's muzzle bled. It stood on the hinder legs in front of Fenvir and it was about to loose its mind to the agony of death and then they would turn their backs on it and run, the animal would roll around in the snow tearing the ground and biting the cold air and its own paws, mauling everything at such haste and with such force that even the iron deathknight would stand back.
Now, however, it stood up, twice the height of its enemy, in front of Serathor's father, and everybody knew that it only takes one swing of that paw to destroy any body. The runed steel glittered in the moonlight and was hurled deep into bear's chest in a manner of a spear. The sword went in purely right up to the hilt. The bear swang everything it could swing, including teeth, but the elves were out of reach and the annoying arrows kept buzzing in like stinging insects and there was only madness and insufferable pain and a whole colony of red ants eating its body from the inside and hot streams of blood in the snow.
It was still dark when they burned the corpse, Serathor said that if they don't do it today they'll have more bears and wolves joining the feast tomorrow.
They set off two hours before dawn, the well-prepared and determined searching party, and into the freshly awakened storm. The blizzard hoisted wings high once again and usurped the reign of vastness. The snow went on. They have left Dusty behind, in the cabin.
«Where have you seen her for the last time? Let's make preparations for the march-»
«A nap first, I'll be useless. Fifty yards to the south-east from here be plenty of bear tracks. It's a good thing you don't keep food in the cabin. He'll come back at night, they always come back. He'll be coming back again and again until we do something about it. For now he is after the food tent. Have you never had a bear before?»
«I believe I haven't. But-»
«Ofcourse. There weren't any food until-.»
«-But I'll just keep watch while you sleep. And make preparations.»
«That is such a splendid idea. I wish we had guns though...» - Serathor began to doze off and was fast asleep in a moment.
«But what about the troll?»
That question remained unanswered for the pale face with a slight beard which has grown just a little during all the adventures was captured by so deep a slumber he could be mistaken for a dry corpse. Fenvir went to and fro, pulled some fresh clothes for Serathor from his old battered chest, two perfectly balanced high elven shortswords with narrow blades and an ashenvale bow about which existance he forgot until now, then he took his runed sword that has been laying across the kitchen table all these days and moved his armchair opposite the door, his sword on his lap. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the left a little, right ear hears best.
There was the storm proclaiming the song of frost, vastness and the ice-clad seas beyond. A few hours after midnight the blizzard ceased but never died, it simply went to rest and the very landscape was it's luxury bed. Fenvir heard a quiet noise braking the perfect silence, coming from far away, but very real at the same time. Fenvir's attention concentrated there, outside, on the edge of the moonlit glade. It sounded like an intermediate of a snort and a growl — now nearer. Serathor sprang up, his eyes open and still asleep. They heard the fur rustle against the snowdrifts at amazing speed.
«The bow's on the table.»
They rushed out of the cabin. The animal hesitated for a second and an arrow stuck in it's side.
«Couldn't do worse! What a shame, I got him in the belly.»
The huge predator roared and charged. Another quick black snake darted above the untouched snow and pierced bear's shoulder. It roared even louder and ran faster. A memory or rather a feeling of the days when he fought bears in the arena struck Fenvir. One more arrow went between the beast's eyes and it was still running with an arrow in its skull. Serathor reached for the next arrow and out went the beast's eye. By that time the fur was all bloody and it's muzzle bled. It stood on the hinder legs in front of Fenvir and it was about to loose its mind to the agony of death and then they would turn their backs on it and run, the animal would roll around in the snow tearing the ground and biting the cold air and its own paws, mauling everything at such haste and with such force that even the iron deathknight would stand back.
Now, however, it stood up, twice the height of its enemy, in front of Serathor's father, and everybody knew that it only takes one swing of that paw to destroy any body. The runed steel glittered in the moonlight and was hurled deep into bear's chest in a manner of a spear. The sword went in purely right up to the hilt. The bear swang everything it could swing, including teeth, but the elves were out of reach and the annoying arrows kept buzzing in like stinging insects and there was only madness and insufferable pain and a whole colony of red ants eating its body from the inside and hot streams of blood in the snow.
It was still dark when they burned the corpse, Serathor said that if they don't do it today they'll have more bears and wolves joining the feast tomorrow.
They set off two hours before dawn, the well-prepared and determined searching party, and into the freshly awakened storm. The blizzard hoisted wings high once again and usurped the reign of vastness. The snow went on. They have left Dusty behind, in the cabin.
Dusty- Posts : 27
Join date : 2010-11-13
Re: “To Serathor Suncrown, wherever you may be" [A short letter]
Camilla Sat Jan 11, 2014 2:09 am
Her tracks went into the wilderness right where his son had predicted they would. She had moved with more speed than usual, the steps were far apart. They followed the empty footsteps in the deep snow for no more than a mile, before they suddenly came to a halt under a tall pine surrounded by evergreen shrubbery. Here the snow had been disturbed and it was obvious that she had dug something up that had been hidden under the snow.
“There’s been a full set of chain armor here…” his son pointed out. “..and chain boot prints in the snow…”
Fenvir felt the lingering magic. She had kept an enchanted cloak and perhaps a bag of trinkets here as well.
“Look – moving away she was heavier.” Serathor pointed towards a set of deeper footsteps leading away through the shrubbery in the opposite direction of where they had come from.
“Goodness! It’s like she wants to be followed!” the ranger added, studying the disturbed bushes.
They traced the newer steps for another mile or two, before these abruptly stopped in a clearing among the trees. It seemed darker here, the trees were thicker. The ground in the small clearing seemed charred or burned recently.
Fenvir felt himself look to the sky, though he knew there was nothing to see there. The pale blue circle above the dark pines was empty.
“Where did she go from here? There’s no prints going out of the clearing..” Serathor circled the clearing a few times.. “The shrubbery is undisturbed.. And she moves like a tank – if she’d gone through I’d know!”
Fenvir just let out a small sigh. “You can stop scouting, she’s long gone..”
Serathor stopped his spinning, looked at the ground and then at the sky.
“I didn’t know she had that kind of magic.”
“She does.”
“Do you?”
“Not any more..”
Fenvir started back the way they had come from and Serathor sensing this was no time for further questions mulled things over quietly inside his head. What did he really know about his father, or about Chimes? Why did she run away? He was not sure how to wise up on these matters. After a while he realized that he did not even know how his father had met Chimes. He knew they had both been pit fighters that were all. He made a mental note to ask his father once the mood had lifted a little.
Serathor was not worried about Chimes. Not for a second. He assumed she had her reasons. He felt more worried about his father. He seemed to be the one of the two with the most feelings and pride to hurt. Serathor had never seen Chimes display much more than a very basic array of feelings and certainly never pride, or any other vices for that matter. In that regard, he reckoned his father was much more in touch with his mortal roots.
He felt angry and disappointed, and he had to admit he felt a little betrayed as well. She had opted out of the wonderful family he had set out to create. The two of them and his son. It had even been her idea too, he reasoned. Or well, she was the one who had made him write that first letter. When he had first felt he had her confidence, he had told her about his lost love child. He had been worried about Andae butting in and messing things up, with her strong mind and powerful magic he felt she posed a real danger if he roused her inner dragon again, but even so Chimes had encouraged him to look for Serathor and in the end his curiosity had overcome his fear of his child’s mother.
Fenvir recalled her coming around the corner of the barn… Her long white golden hair flowing in the wind, a light summer dress, a bright smile and glowing eyes. They were blue back then. Azure. This was – when come to think of it – the only thing Andae had in common with Chimes.
Andae in his dreams were all grace, beauty and elegance. Sharp wit, clever words and mischievous smirks, all packed in one intriguing, beautiful dream girl. On the other end of the spectrum stood another kind of dream girl. The one who comes in disturbing dreams of deep, dark woods, murky water and shallow graves. A deliberate and slow moving war machine, who knows grace only in the moment of bringing another being to its end.
Such thoughts bounced around the inside of Fenvir’s head during the few miles back to the cabin. When he reached the doorstep he looked at Serathor, with a tired look.
“It’s my own fault,” he said pushing the door open. “I get what I have coming…”
Serathor had nothing to say to this, not quite knowing what his old man was talking about.
“Women.. You need to appreciate them – individually… They’re all.. Different.. Like.. Artwork..”
Serathor busied himself with lighting a good fire in the fireplace, Fenvir found himself leaning on the mantle piece, watching his son. He felt like he had words of wisdom to impart on his kin.
“If you find a woman who truly puts up with your antics..” Fenvir sighed “..you must ..”
Serathor looked up at his father, one eyebrow perked and a large question mark written on his face.
Fenvir looked deep in thought and Serathor shook his head to himself.
“There’s been a full set of chain armor here…” his son pointed out. “..and chain boot prints in the snow…”
Fenvir felt the lingering magic. She had kept an enchanted cloak and perhaps a bag of trinkets here as well.
“Look – moving away she was heavier.” Serathor pointed towards a set of deeper footsteps leading away through the shrubbery in the opposite direction of where they had come from.
“Goodness! It’s like she wants to be followed!” the ranger added, studying the disturbed bushes.
They traced the newer steps for another mile or two, before these abruptly stopped in a clearing among the trees. It seemed darker here, the trees were thicker. The ground in the small clearing seemed charred or burned recently.
Fenvir felt himself look to the sky, though he knew there was nothing to see there. The pale blue circle above the dark pines was empty.
“Where did she go from here? There’s no prints going out of the clearing..” Serathor circled the clearing a few times.. “The shrubbery is undisturbed.. And she moves like a tank – if she’d gone through I’d know!”
Fenvir just let out a small sigh. “You can stop scouting, she’s long gone..”
Serathor stopped his spinning, looked at the ground and then at the sky.
“I didn’t know she had that kind of magic.”
“She does.”
“Do you?”
“Not any more..”
Fenvir started back the way they had come from and Serathor sensing this was no time for further questions mulled things over quietly inside his head. What did he really know about his father, or about Chimes? Why did she run away? He was not sure how to wise up on these matters. After a while he realized that he did not even know how his father had met Chimes. He knew they had both been pit fighters that were all. He made a mental note to ask his father once the mood had lifted a little.
Serathor was not worried about Chimes. Not for a second. He assumed she had her reasons. He felt more worried about his father. He seemed to be the one of the two with the most feelings and pride to hurt. Serathor had never seen Chimes display much more than a very basic array of feelings and certainly never pride, or any other vices for that matter. In that regard, he reckoned his father was much more in touch with his mortal roots.
He felt angry and disappointed, and he had to admit he felt a little betrayed as well. She had opted out of the wonderful family he had set out to create. The two of them and his son. It had even been her idea too, he reasoned. Or well, she was the one who had made him write that first letter. When he had first felt he had her confidence, he had told her about his lost love child. He had been worried about Andae butting in and messing things up, with her strong mind and powerful magic he felt she posed a real danger if he roused her inner dragon again, but even so Chimes had encouraged him to look for Serathor and in the end his curiosity had overcome his fear of his child’s mother.
Fenvir recalled her coming around the corner of the barn… Her long white golden hair flowing in the wind, a light summer dress, a bright smile and glowing eyes. They were blue back then. Azure. This was – when come to think of it – the only thing Andae had in common with Chimes.
Andae in his dreams were all grace, beauty and elegance. Sharp wit, clever words and mischievous smirks, all packed in one intriguing, beautiful dream girl. On the other end of the spectrum stood another kind of dream girl. The one who comes in disturbing dreams of deep, dark woods, murky water and shallow graves. A deliberate and slow moving war machine, who knows grace only in the moment of bringing another being to its end.
Such thoughts bounced around the inside of Fenvir’s head during the few miles back to the cabin. When he reached the doorstep he looked at Serathor, with a tired look.
“It’s my own fault,” he said pushing the door open. “I get what I have coming…”
Serathor had nothing to say to this, not quite knowing what his old man was talking about.
“Women.. You need to appreciate them – individually… They’re all.. Different.. Like.. Artwork..”
Serathor busied himself with lighting a good fire in the fireplace, Fenvir found himself leaning on the mantle piece, watching his son. He felt like he had words of wisdom to impart on his kin.
“If you find a woman who truly puts up with your antics..” Fenvir sighed “..you must ..”
Serathor looked up at his father, one eyebrow perked and a large question mark written on his face.
Fenvir looked deep in thought and Serathor shook his head to himself.
Camilla- Admin
- Posts : 54
Join date : 2009-12-29
Age : 41
Location : Denmark -
Re: “To Serathor Suncrown, wherever you may be" [A short letter]
Dusty Sun Feb 23, 2014 9:33 pm
The evening passed into the night and the numbness came. The blizzard reigned outside. The elves sat in their chairs and watched the fire dance...
...Who will recreate the kingdom?! A bunch of starving tramps?... Prince Kael'Thas burns the enchanted forests... The Academy is no more... Tramps!...
Serathor saw through the flames of the fireplace, beyond the chimney were the desolated lands of Quel'Thalas.
…
«Immortals are we?» - growled Hyena. «Tell you what, you won't survive the winter.»
«Unless we take back Silvermoon.»
«A bunch of vagabonds with broken gear and empty stomachs. Do I look like a battering ram to you?»
«But...»
«Cut it out.»
«Very well, but do we linger now? There is the Scar, of course, but otherwise it is appropriate to claim that Eversong is safe.»
«Eversong is not safe it's burnt.»
«I agree that our leaders have been acting quite... eccentric, in a way, but with all due respect, Sergeant-»
«This makes me sick.»
«The wine makes you sick, Sergeant. We will hardly meet any resistance at the gates, the Scourge's like cattle these days! We will take back house by house as we have done with this very village! What is Silvermoon if not a slightly bigger village?»
«Slightly? … Bring me another bottle.»
…
The capital was in a bad state to say the least and it swarmed with the scourge like an anthill. Whenever an attempt was made to enter the ruins a numerous throng of the mindless warriors would mould from within and crowd out the elves.
«What do they have there? A nest?!» - cried Sergeant and the highborn retreated to Eversong into their trenches and the barricaded «foxholes». Sunstrider's people didn't come to their aid. It was well known that Prince's regiment escaped annihilation and was stationed at the eastern strands. There was (and still is) the great disaster named Dead Scar which nowdays appears to be a fragile shade of what it once was and it prevented the two squads (Hyena's and Prince's) to unite or at least to cooperate properly. But perhaps the geography was not the main reason for their separation. Kael wouldn't risk the lives of his elite troops to confront the sleepless Scar for the sake of such a small group of fighters in the first place. He deemed it a tactical error. The strategical situation was beneficial to him as a ruler, he had a third of the land cleared and controlled by a minor autonomous and highly effective guerilla force, the second third was burned to the ground by him and the other third included impassable ridges, marshes, The Scar etc. Prince waited for the great fires in the woods to die out while he set the Scar on fire constantly and was rarely involved in open confrontations, it was vital to keep his losses to a minimum.
«Retreat to the Village!» - screamed Hyena. The elf who persuaded him to march at the city was trampled in a skirmish a week ago. It was like facing an avalanche now.
«Burn the dead, burn everything in your retreat!» - and the smoke was in the skies again.
We have stirred a beehive, gentlemen! It's over. We aren't fit for this war anymore, we were only fit for ambushing and trapping! And the royal coward didn't care to give us a hand and there was something else, and much more, but Serathor could not hear it all.
…
Serathor opened his eyes. His head was heavy. The light was grey and the snow went on. These dreams again, he thought. Fenvir's chair was empty. He checked Dusty and Dusty was the same. «Perhaps I should talk to Fenvir about the troll again. Where is he, by the way?»
There was somebody else in the room. Serathor sprang to his feet. In the middle of the room stood Sergeant Hyena and stared in front of him. His clothes were soaked and he reeked of sea salt and fish. The water ran down his beard. The floor under his feet rocked to and fro as if it was a ship's deck. Serathor knew he was still sleeping then. He wondered what happens next. And in a moment he woke up.
…
He looked at Fenvir, who now had his notebook on his lap and was playing with a quill with his fingers. The fire was starting to die out. The night was moonless.
«You talked in your sleep.»
«Really? What was it?» - he answered, dozing off again.
Fenvir said he must've been hunting in his dream because he kept talking about hyenas and rangers, it could be an odd dream — hunting hyenas in Eversong or something, Serathor was about to say that the fire needs more wood but couldn't, all he could do was packing the supplies, it is going to be a long voyage and everything has to be done quickly and properly. Sergeant Oliver will sail that ship, he doesn't want to hear about Quel'Thalas, he had enough of this war. If you want to stay you are welcome to do so, you are also welcome to join Sergeant in a journey for a better fortune.
Two intact ships fit for sailing were discovered at the Sunsail Harbour, other eight sank or burned or both. One night was all that was needed. And we are so very lucky to find two ships in a condition — and in these times!
The ambassadors from the other surviving party arrived soon enough. They were two clean tall elves in yellow robes with the escort of ten fully armed mageguards with blades and everything like in the times before the invasion.
They were halted by the sentry some yards from the barricades.
«Hail, kinsmen! I am Kairthus Sharpleaf, assignated to carry out orders of the Prince Kael'Thas Sunstrider and The Council of Silvermoon. Who is in charge of this site?»
Hyena's unshaven face appeared among the sentinels. He saluted the guests.
«So you've found a way to cross the Scar - he shouted, - or a reason. Hold on, I know you!»
He jumped over the barricades and walked straight at the ambassadors.
«Sergeant Oliver at your service. Sorry, I don't have a last name - Sharpleaf was about to reply, but Hyena wouldn't let him, - Spare the trouble, good sirs! I said I know you.» He made a pause here, the ambassador hesitated for a second but Hyena went on:
«Don't be surprised, my lords. Your own garments told me. You represent the company of utter and ultimate chicken-shitmeat.»
There was a tense silence for a second on both sides. Hyena screamed, his voice was on the verge of breakedown:
«We are a group of twenty five well-armed seasoned veterans. Not as well-armed as you, but then again, we've been known to actually use our gear!! Tell this to him. Deliver my sincere insults. No I don't care to listen to what you have to say. Dismissed!!»
Hyena saluted and turned on his heels and walked back, jumped over the barricades and was gone.
Sharpleaf didn't seem to be shaken, he might have expected this scenery. Actually, he pretended that nothing happened. He went on and proclaimed that all military formations to the east from Dead Scar are now officialy out of law — unless they join the only functioning army of Blood Elven Quel'Thalas. Sharpleaf was the recruiting officer and all who wished could join right away and that was their only chance to survive in the new world. What was that supposed to mean we knew not for the word «Blood Elf» we never heard before. No reply followed from the barricades. He repeated all this one more time and they departed.
«Whatever you're doing — stop doing it! No time! To the ships! Life or death! Now!»
Serathor ran downhill, Hyena shouted orders, the shroud of smoke was suddenly everywhere.
«Aboard! Quick! Or you'd like to sail a candle! All aboard!»
Sergeant Oliver, Serathor and other twenty three elves were now outlaws on a stolen ship with burning Eversong behind them. The sinking sun-disk was ahead.
The wind hit the sails.
…
Serathor was asleep and saw dreams. His father never slept but saw dreams sometimes too. He looked at the white sheets and didn't think at all.
There was the snowstorm and the morning arrived grey and dim like in his son's dream.
...Who will recreate the kingdom?! A bunch of starving tramps?... Prince Kael'Thas burns the enchanted forests... The Academy is no more... Tramps!...
Serathor saw through the flames of the fireplace, beyond the chimney were the desolated lands of Quel'Thalas.
…
«Immortals are we?» - growled Hyena. «Tell you what, you won't survive the winter.»
«Unless we take back Silvermoon.»
«A bunch of vagabonds with broken gear and empty stomachs. Do I look like a battering ram to you?»
«But...»
«Cut it out.»
«Very well, but do we linger now? There is the Scar, of course, but otherwise it is appropriate to claim that Eversong is safe.»
«Eversong is not safe it's burnt.»
«I agree that our leaders have been acting quite... eccentric, in a way, but with all due respect, Sergeant-»
«This makes me sick.»
«The wine makes you sick, Sergeant. We will hardly meet any resistance at the gates, the Scourge's like cattle these days! We will take back house by house as we have done with this very village! What is Silvermoon if not a slightly bigger village?»
«Slightly? … Bring me another bottle.»
…
The capital was in a bad state to say the least and it swarmed with the scourge like an anthill. Whenever an attempt was made to enter the ruins a numerous throng of the mindless warriors would mould from within and crowd out the elves.
«What do they have there? A nest?!» - cried Sergeant and the highborn retreated to Eversong into their trenches and the barricaded «foxholes». Sunstrider's people didn't come to their aid. It was well known that Prince's regiment escaped annihilation and was stationed at the eastern strands. There was (and still is) the great disaster named Dead Scar which nowdays appears to be a fragile shade of what it once was and it prevented the two squads (Hyena's and Prince's) to unite or at least to cooperate properly. But perhaps the geography was not the main reason for their separation. Kael wouldn't risk the lives of his elite troops to confront the sleepless Scar for the sake of such a small group of fighters in the first place. He deemed it a tactical error. The strategical situation was beneficial to him as a ruler, he had a third of the land cleared and controlled by a minor autonomous and highly effective guerilla force, the second third was burned to the ground by him and the other third included impassable ridges, marshes, The Scar etc. Prince waited for the great fires in the woods to die out while he set the Scar on fire constantly and was rarely involved in open confrontations, it was vital to keep his losses to a minimum.
«Retreat to the Village!» - screamed Hyena. The elf who persuaded him to march at the city was trampled in a skirmish a week ago. It was like facing an avalanche now.
«Burn the dead, burn everything in your retreat!» - and the smoke was in the skies again.
We have stirred a beehive, gentlemen! It's over. We aren't fit for this war anymore, we were only fit for ambushing and trapping! And the royal coward didn't care to give us a hand and there was something else, and much more, but Serathor could not hear it all.
…
Serathor opened his eyes. His head was heavy. The light was grey and the snow went on. These dreams again, he thought. Fenvir's chair was empty. He checked Dusty and Dusty was the same. «Perhaps I should talk to Fenvir about the troll again. Where is he, by the way?»
There was somebody else in the room. Serathor sprang to his feet. In the middle of the room stood Sergeant Hyena and stared in front of him. His clothes were soaked and he reeked of sea salt and fish. The water ran down his beard. The floor under his feet rocked to and fro as if it was a ship's deck. Serathor knew he was still sleeping then. He wondered what happens next. And in a moment he woke up.
…
He looked at Fenvir, who now had his notebook on his lap and was playing with a quill with his fingers. The fire was starting to die out. The night was moonless.
«You talked in your sleep.»
«Really? What was it?» - he answered, dozing off again.
Fenvir said he must've been hunting in his dream because he kept talking about hyenas and rangers, it could be an odd dream — hunting hyenas in Eversong or something, Serathor was about to say that the fire needs more wood but couldn't, all he could do was packing the supplies, it is going to be a long voyage and everything has to be done quickly and properly. Sergeant Oliver will sail that ship, he doesn't want to hear about Quel'Thalas, he had enough of this war. If you want to stay you are welcome to do so, you are also welcome to join Sergeant in a journey for a better fortune.
Two intact ships fit for sailing were discovered at the Sunsail Harbour, other eight sank or burned or both. One night was all that was needed. And we are so very lucky to find two ships in a condition — and in these times!
The ambassadors from the other surviving party arrived soon enough. They were two clean tall elves in yellow robes with the escort of ten fully armed mageguards with blades and everything like in the times before the invasion.
They were halted by the sentry some yards from the barricades.
«Hail, kinsmen! I am Kairthus Sharpleaf, assignated to carry out orders of the Prince Kael'Thas Sunstrider and The Council of Silvermoon. Who is in charge of this site?»
Hyena's unshaven face appeared among the sentinels. He saluted the guests.
«So you've found a way to cross the Scar - he shouted, - or a reason. Hold on, I know you!»
He jumped over the barricades and walked straight at the ambassadors.
«Sergeant Oliver at your service. Sorry, I don't have a last name - Sharpleaf was about to reply, but Hyena wouldn't let him, - Spare the trouble, good sirs! I said I know you.» He made a pause here, the ambassador hesitated for a second but Hyena went on:
«Don't be surprised, my lords. Your own garments told me. You represent the company of utter and ultimate chicken-shitmeat.»
There was a tense silence for a second on both sides. Hyena screamed, his voice was on the verge of breakedown:
«We are a group of twenty five well-armed seasoned veterans. Not as well-armed as you, but then again, we've been known to actually use our gear!! Tell this to him. Deliver my sincere insults. No I don't care to listen to what you have to say. Dismissed!!»
Hyena saluted and turned on his heels and walked back, jumped over the barricades and was gone.
Sharpleaf didn't seem to be shaken, he might have expected this scenery. Actually, he pretended that nothing happened. He went on and proclaimed that all military formations to the east from Dead Scar are now officialy out of law — unless they join the only functioning army of Blood Elven Quel'Thalas. Sharpleaf was the recruiting officer and all who wished could join right away and that was their only chance to survive in the new world. What was that supposed to mean we knew not for the word «Blood Elf» we never heard before. No reply followed from the barricades. He repeated all this one more time and they departed.
«Whatever you're doing — stop doing it! No time! To the ships! Life or death! Now!»
Serathor ran downhill, Hyena shouted orders, the shroud of smoke was suddenly everywhere.
«Aboard! Quick! Or you'd like to sail a candle! All aboard!»
Sergeant Oliver, Serathor and other twenty three elves were now outlaws on a stolen ship with burning Eversong behind them. The sinking sun-disk was ahead.
The wind hit the sails.
…
Serathor was asleep and saw dreams. His father never slept but saw dreams sometimes too. He looked at the white sheets and didn't think at all.
There was the snowstorm and the morning arrived grey and dim like in his son's dream.
Dusty- Posts : 27
Join date : 2010-11-13
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