[Belf-RP] Thalassian Skyguard 🐲

[Tarvalé-argent-dawn]

The air is frigid and sharp, lacing the lungs with a dull ache upon each quiet inhalation. The two Elves lie together beneath the blanket, a tumble of inky curls shimmering from beneath the soft cotton of the fur lined covering. It is past two in the morning, the deadest of the night time hours and the lonely yawn of darkness seems to swallow all hope whole.

Nightmares tug and nip at the little Pyromancer’s sleep addled mind, swirling into her very core to tear and fester, lingering long after she wakes. With a gasp that cuts at her throat, she wakes, ears pinned back into the gloss of her ebony locks, heart a thrumming bird against the inside of her rib cage. Honey and dried blood dance upon the waves of icy air as she turns quickly to rest the amber laced acid of her eyes upon the Ranger. He is safe, they are safe. Heart still thudding she scans the slumbering heaps of fur covered sleepers that are the Skyguard, ears pricked and alert for any sound that may not belong, any darkness that might have followed them or hitched a ride inside the hollow spaces they all carry with them. Trauma touches us all, it slashes its way inside our soul and gnaws away until it begins to fester, it is here that the darkness may take hold, these pitch lands of memories and resentment, hatred and loss.

She lets her breath release, a cloud of warm moisture freezing in the air as she wraps slender arms around her curved form. Despite it all she is healing, these few are her home now, together they stitch and sew the empty places until nothing else may slither in to do harm. The Dragonhawks, her Vixra, are the wick that runs through the wax to give the candle life.

“I won’t be alone…not again.” She mutters, her words snatched up and torn away by the flurry of snow that continues to fall. After some time she sleeps once more, the unconsciousness of slumber coiling softly around her and welcoming the diminutive Pyromancer into its embrace.

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

A Firecloud story

The sound of cart wheels tapping along the cobblestones echoed out across the expanse of withered trees. Fog crept and rolled in churning pockets, hiding and shying objects away from the green eyes that watched from beneath an ebon shroud. “It’s eur mighty bad place ta be gonneur for someone o’ thy stature young masta. Filled teur t’ brim wi’ t’ walkin dead thee sez.” The driver of the cart leaned across from his seat to peer over his bulbous red nose at his silent passenger whilst cracking the whip upon his horses. It was not that Demetre was a bad man, as far as humans’ go he was quite the conversationalist and cheap for taxi fares. It was more the company he had found himself in this trip,“Sorry young masta, ah reckon you’ve bin wantin ta be gallock a sen wi’ thy thoughts, indulge an owd bloke for ah finn’ t’ ruwad intoa t’ Eastern Plaguelands ta be jannock nerve rackin.”

Two vibrant green eyes peered up from the shadows of a cowl looking intently upon Demetre with an intense certainty. Strands of vibrant orange hair danced beneath the colourless hood with the light on the side of the cart revealing the jutting handsome face of the elf passenger. “I’m terribly sorry but it’s not that one does not wish to speak with you, old bean, Demetre, it is more that one haven’t ah bloohming clue what in seven hells’ you are saying. You humans have more accents than your totty have holes to fill.” The elf spoke his common with such mocking precision the difference between the two in each other’s company could not be more humerus. Demetre returned the comment with the look of a man who also had no idea what had just been said and isn’t certain whether to be insulted or not, but since a large word was played, he defaults to his basic survival instinct. Agree. “Fairs enuff. Can’t compleeam theear.”

Silence enveloped the two from this point out, a silence that can be understood and shared by any who have been in the company of one not educated in your own language for elongated periods of time. Up ahead the ambling sounds of the nonliving could be heard from Corrin’s crossing, though the cart wheeled off to the left to cut out the haunted village from their path. Instead, leaving the noises behind they came up to the barely manned tower of the Argents. Stepping off from the cart, De’vontae the elf stretched his legs wondering up to the tower’s watch. It was a Dwarf that greeted him, dressed from head to toe in the silvers of the Argent Crusaders “Hail traveler, if it is a place ye ur lookin’ tae bide thaur oore bed rolls within th’ tower. It is braw an’ we’ve nae fire as it attracts doon at th’ crossin’. But it is better than ootwith.” De’vontae’s brow creased at the thick accent once again, pushing back his hood, matters were so much more complex south of the border. “Thank you.” Moving along the side of the tower the elf meandered to a wooden board where numerous discoloured pieces of parchment had been nailed to the front. In the dim light of the flickering lanterns it was easy to see how many of the parchments were cases in which people were being warned off the roads. Though one parchment particularly caught his eye, for it was the reason he had come here.

“Wanted: A hero. Boy missing - last seen in Corrin’s Crossing. Reward: An Argent’s medallion.”

Pulling his cloak tighter, De’vontae side stepped away from the tower and rounded down the hill, making his descent in the shadows so as not to draw the concern of the guardsmen. He would not have been allowed down there had they known his age, but it is like Alaris said, there is only so much whacking a training dummy can improve. There comes a time when you need to take that step onto the fields of battle and there is plenty of battle left in the Eastern Plaguelands. The air was crisp and filled the avid hunters lungs, his dark eyes watched out into the fog where the peaks of the roof tops could be made out from Corin’s Crossing. The stench of pungent death mixed with necromancy stewed like the tops of swamps forcing the elf to bring himself to a stop so as not to gag. Hidden behind the first of the many dishevelled and abandoned buildings, it was at this point a glint of silver caught De’vontae’s eyes. “Shi–.”

“Mofe undt I’ll slit your pretty little zroat.” A rich sultry voice seethed from behind De’vontae’s shoulder, the touch of cool metal reminding him of the sharp pain that could soon end his life. “Hey, listen - we don’t need to fight love, let’s just all calm down and go our separate ways, hm?” It was a reasonable bargain and his voice was earnest with a slight tremor of concern for his life. “Oh please, you zink you kan valk away now undt tell ze vorld uff vhat you saw here? Vhat iss your purpose?” Her voice carried a strange exotic accent that reminded the elf of the Draenei dialect, but by the angle of the dagger it would of had to be a dwarf Draenei. Attempting to lean his head back resulted in further pressure of the dagger and a slight prick of warm blood spilt down his neck followed by a hiss of pain. “My purpose? I just heard at a tavern that there was some scourge that needed wiping out at the crossing and I thought-”

“Undt you zought zat you kould be ze hero zat zis town needs? Please you kould barely protect yourself. Schtent up undt let me look at you - undt do nicht zink uff r-r-runningkt, mein blade r-r-rarely misses.” Her r’s were rolled like waves that sent chills down De’vontae’s back, it was a rare sound. The dagger swiftly slipped aside with no further damage and how could he be disobedient to someone with such surety in their voice? No, he needed to at least see the face of the one who was threatening him. Standing and turning with a hand slowly moving to the hilt of his blade behind his cloak, De’vontae cast up his eyes to the assailant. A female with hair as black as the sky and eyes framed by thick lashes and bright blue eyes watched the Sin’dorei, her lips set into a thin line and coloured in a dark inviting red. Her pale skin was a stark pale as though the sun had not kissed it, and De’vontae found himself willing to be tribute to resolving that slight. Her figure was draped in a loose fitted black shirt strapped into place by a black leather corset, legs long and ending in boots more fit for a pirate than a novice traveller. She was beautiful and most certainly to his dismay a Quel’dorei, her nature in which she regarded him showed distrust, for her spare hand hovered over a strap where numerous extra weapons sat. “Put back your hood, let ze moon light schow me vhat a true monster looks like.”

De’vontae did as asked, pulling back his hood to reveal his bright amber hair and vibrant green eyes. The female’s lips parted into one of mild curiousness, but soon tightened back into that of hatred, eyes locking to his. Quel’dorei met Sin’dorei. Through horrors of their past decisions neither’s race were exactly on politically speaking terms…

Darting back like a lithe cat the female released her blade that mourned through the air in a keening arch right to where De’vontae’s neck would have been. He was ready for this however and darted to his right, using his long leg’s to try and bring himself to higher ground, moving out and around the female, sweeping his sleeping blade from its sheath. Her own hands moved deftly to the holds of her blades, pulling out two new and setting herself ready “I’fe missed once, you schan’t be so lucky to haf me miss again.” Releasing the two blades shuddered in the air, one driving into his left shoulder and the other barely missing his eye. With a growl of pain De’vontae turned back around on the Quel’dorei and leapt forwards, blade held abreast with the flat side pushing into her stomach and flooring her, blade to neck. “Looks like you missed twice. Now who are you? Are you in league with the necromancers? Is this why you stopped me?” “In league mitt zem? How dare you, you … - Abomination!”

The Quel’dorei’s pale eyes widened, her hands pushing against the males blade. “Hey now, that was a touch uncalled for.” De’vontae leaned back a little startled at the accusation, -he- is meant to be the hero here after all. “No you fool! Abomination behind yo!”

“Oh please you can’t get me with that-…” The males voice suddenly went very high pitched as he felt himself leaving the floor and watching the Quel’dorei get smaller. His vision tilted, finding the pressure of his weight now pointed to his cloak and strangling him ever so slightly. Instead of a pretty Quel’dorei that was sprawled on the floor was now replaced by the bloated face of an abomination. A creature forged of bloated stitched flesh with green congealed fluid that dripped from the stitching that held the fat over sized beast together. The stench of it’s gaping mouth where yellow crooked teeth had been hammered into his gums swam out to assail De’vontae’s nose. “Eck-…” Trying to keep his meal down in his stomach, De’vontae turned his head up and away barely escaping the smell of steaming faeces. The Abomination watched with bulged eyes at it’s catch and after a good moment of consideration, the beast opened it’s jaw and tried it’s limited vocabulary to explain it’s intentions. “Bad hammer. Next time… STAY!” With this the Abomination swung the elf up into the air and drove him down to the barely softened ground “He-AAAAAARGH!” For the point of De’vontae’s reputation it was a completely manly scream followed by a crunch as he landed hard to the ground, barely managing to keep his bones from breaking.

The Quel’dorei had since moved and jumped to the back of the Abomination “R-r-run you fool, zis iss nicht a place fur boys vantingkt to be men. Die Abomination!” Her blades stabbed holes in which fluid sprouted out in leaks from the flesh of the creature whom dumbly plodded about, arms flaying to try and reach the lithe female. De’vontae pulled himself around, hand grasping his blade with a determined expression, managing to get to his feet. The Quel’dorei’s lithe actions only lasted so long before the Abomination managed to grab hold of her by her hair, yanking her into the air like a rag doll. “Puny rat! Cat caught you now!” Raising his hand the creature seemed intent to hammer her into the floor again and she had no way to escape, blades left deep and buried into the back of the beast. De’vontae pushed forwards blade pointed out ready “AH-HAH!” The elf’s arms juddered as the blade raked flesh from muscle, spilling the stomach contents of the abomination along the floor. A bellow of pain and misery crawled from the mouth of the abomination as it fell forwards, dying in it’s own pool of green fluid. De’vontae stepped back, breathing heavily and eyes wide, his first kill! And he saved a damsel in distress, now to claim his ki-… Wait, where was she? Looking about himself, De’vontae could not see the female assailant.

Suddenly the flesh of the abomination started to shudder. “Ah! It’s alive! I mean-… Stay down before I strike you again!” De’vontae pushed his blade out to warn off the creature. The pale flesh shuddered more, ripping outwards into a line… steam of heated blood rose into the air followed by a hand thrusting skyward from within the fleshy body. “Holy Liadrin’s erected ni- ahem. It was pregnant!” De’vontae dropped his blade and shuddered back, eyes widely locked on the scene before him. The hand contorted and grabbed at the rubber flesh of the dead abomination, pulling out an arm covered in gunk, then a head, where hair draped down and eyes of an angered fiend focused on De’vontae. “You are a dead man Sin’dorei! Now help me get out uff her Naturlich!”

[Gaxxius-argent-dawn]

Unexpected Visitor
Two years before the Scourge invasion.

The sound of birds singing and the rustling leaves of the forest could be heard, even from inside the castle. It was just past midday and people could be heard entering the castle, the host welcoming them at the door and directing them towards the great hall. Each guest offered the host some kind words before making for the great hall. Their footsteps echoed through the castle as they slowly made their way to the rest of the attendants. Some of them complained about the location where the funeral was going to be had, others that had been invited didn’t even show up.

The knock on the door to his room made any thought he had in his mind vanish, still standing with only his pants and boots on. He realised that he had been daydreaming again. He sighed before answering with a tired voice.

“Enter.”

The door opened before he could even finish the word, the tall short haired elf entered the room and set his eyes on his little brother. Studying the younger brother for a long time before parting his lips.

“You’re supposed to be dressed by now, most guests are already here… You were supposed to meet me downstairs to greet them, remember? Oh, it doesn’t matter now. But you still need to get dressed properly.”

The short haired man picked up the white shirt that was laying on his bed, holding it out to help his younger brother get dressed. Gaxxius was too tired to argue with his brother on such a day, he slipped into his shirt and turned to face his brother. His head hanging low, staring at the floor. The short haired man sighed as he took a step closer, starting to button his shirt.

“Gaxxius… I know that it’s a difficult day for you, but please try to behave and treat our guests with respect, they’re here to pay their respects to him too. It’s better to just get this over with… And please stay away from Keeli, he is dealing with grief in his own strange way and the last thing I want is you two fighting.”

Gaxxius closed his eyes for a moment before looking up at the taller elf, he studied the man’s features for a moment. He always thought they looked very similar. Same nose, same eyebrows and almost the same eyes. And of course they both had the raven hair that all their siblings had. He exhaled through his nose, he nodded reluctantly, he picked up his black coat and quickly put it on before making his way to the great hall.

It was dark outside when the last of the guests left, the light from the lanterns on their chariots grew smaller in the distance. The Siblings that had made it to the ceremony had now gathered in the living room. The oldest brother insisted that they should read their grandfather’s will before they all parted. Gaxxius furrowed his brows as he didn’t care about anything his grandfather had left behind, he would gladly have traded whatever he was going to receive in exchange for his grandfather back, he thought to himself.

“Gaxxius, are you listening?”

The oldest brother spoke with a serious tone, he looked at the younger spellbreaker for a moment. He offered him a half smile, but the sadness could still be seen in his eyes. He broke the seal of the envelope and took out the piece of paper that was their Grandfather’s will. He cleared his throat and parted his lips, before he could speak he was interrupted by someone banging on the front door. He furrowed his brows and looked at the other siblings in the room.

“What now…”

Before anyone could even reach the front doors they were slammed open, a large elf were standing in the opening. He was one of the biggest elves alive, his head almost hitting the top of the large door opening. His amber eyes glew in the dark, his frame covered by a large cloak wrapped around his form. He slowly approached those that stood in the living room, a look of disgust on his face.

“Reading your grandfather’s will without me… I see that the old man never taught you any respect.”

Gaxxius clenched his fists, taking a step closer to the elf that just had entered their home. His hands were shaking, he glared at the elf.

“Father… You’re not the right person to lecture us about respect. You left your family without a word, you’ve been gone for almost three centuries. How could we have known that you would show up at all?”

The large elf took another step closer to his son, eyes glowing in a red color. Gaxxius prepared himself for a confrontation, but deep down he knew that they had a very slim chance at beating their father in a fight. Before the situation escalated further their staring competition was interrupted by the oldest brother.

“Let’s just get this over with… I’m going to read this, and you can kill each other after. How does that sound?”

Both elves nodded agreeingly, Gaxxius let out a sigh of relief, thankful that he was saved from a beating. He turned his attention towards his brother that read from the parchment.

“The Dreadstar manor, Library and trove goes to my eldest grandson, Alaric… All the riches within the vault will be split equally among my grandchildren…”

Their father hissed impatiently, he glared at his children once again. He spoke with his deep smoky voice.

“I don’t have all night… What does it say about me?!”

Alaric arched a brow, even his patience has its limits. He shook his head and glared at the elf, his gaze shorty returned to the parchment.

“To my only son… I leave six gold coins, each coin represents something you have neglected and forgotten about-…”

Gaxxius couldn’t help but to smile as he heard what had been left for his father, it was justice he thought to himself. His father hissed in anger once again, his eyes grew darker and his hands caught on fire, staring down his children.

“This castle is mine… And so is the coin he left behind!”

Gaxxius let out a tired sigh as he moved to join his two brothers, he prepared himself for the fight of his life.

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

Guild update: The skyguard will be next making an appearance at the Defending Pandaria campaign! If you want to join us or want to find us, we’ll be moving out next week! We look forward to seeing you all there.

We’ve also concluded some amazing RP with the Gilded Blades who are a very fun lot that we recommend people go check out. See you soon!

[Cyanee-argent-dawn]

We are in the thick of it! But worry not! A grand spellbreaker rises to the challenge and all will be safe in the world!

[Yokaiizu-argent-dawn]

Coolest elves to battle the skies with.

We mayyyy let you live once the Empire of Zul spans over entire Azeroth once again.

[Bloodseeker-argent-dawn (Bloodseeker)]

you knocked over ranthos and vaelath’s dinner - we dont want to live in a world with such heathens

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

The sun gathered in wells across the sweeping expanse of Eversong, reflecting the golden leaves of white topped trees and the crested roof tops of white washed buildings. The wind was gentle and caressing mixed with the accent of arcane, whilst the grass was verdant and soft to touch. De’vontae sat, legs curled beneath him with his hair pulled back, watching the familiar world. “To finally be home.”
Skylark’s bright autumnal face leaned around the elf and pressed into his view giving a musical tune like a bard, content with the picture. “I can only wonder what waits for the Skyguard next.”

The Skyguard are finally back from campaign and are taking a few needed rest days in Silvermoon after tonights celebrations and medal handing in Sri-La village, to thank them and the Horde for their efforts in Pandaria. Come sweep by and say hello!

[Leynwa-argent-dawn]

A steady ticking filled the room, many devices littered the lounge but only one stirred to life.
A small whirr gave out as the little machine stepped forward, stretching its limbs and flexing its fingers. It would give a nod to the two larger constructs, still soundly ticking idly by before moving with a waddle into what should be a kitchen.

The little machine hops up a series of steps leading to the counter, alternating legs between each hop, hobbling across the countertop to a watering can. It picks it up with ease, a slight whirr from the mechanics contained within the delicate casing, shifting itself and the can over to the sink, drawing about the cans volume of water from the faucet. It nods, satisfied with the task and begins to lift the now full can up with both hands, steadily balancing the load between both arms with soft whirring of servo motors and the sound of shifting gears.

With load in hand, it waddles steadily over to the steps it previously bounded up, sheepishly sliding a chunky little foot over the edge until it drops to meet the next step, setting the watering can to rest on the countertop until it shifted itself to the next step through the same motion as the first, only this time cautiously sliding the can off and down onto the previous step the little machine had inhabited.

Several overly cautious steps and dampened thudding sounds later, the construct was off, firmly on the floor with its can, past the other two constructs, the light starting to shine in revealing their golden and greyish casings. The first stop with the load was a small peacebloom plant sitting in the bathroom, the little construct whirring merrily as it began to pour a generous amount of water for the lone plant.
Satisfied it was given enough, it would about face, can in hand and waddle out back toward the lounge, passing under a cluttered table to the next series of pots sat beneath the window. Inside these pots each sat a lively mageroyal plant, each at different stages of growth, something the little machine was aware of, offering sufficient water, differering for each plant.

A thud sounds out from the bedroom, followed by a soft yawning and shortly after, the sound of movement. The little construct would proceed around the lounge, each step with purpose as it made its way around and down the hall, nudging the bedroom door open and happily waddling inside the darkened room.

The machine set the watering can down for a moment to recover an empty glass from the bedside table, setting it down beside the can it swapped its grip back to, and filled the glass.

It looked up to the slender, sluggish Sin’dorei who was still trying to fight the urge to sleep and offered the glass, which was taken with a little fumbling, spilling some of the water, much to the machine’s disappointment. With a soft buzz, it would sound out, “Glasses are to be used for ease of poor vision, unlikely to spill liquid necessities if vision was at acceptable levels.” This would be met with a loud groan before the Sin’dorei threw the contents of the glass back and down, offering the empty glass back to the construct without any understandable words, something in fluent Gnomish accompanying a dagger like look from beneath the green haze of the sleepy Elven eyes. The construct would waddle away, setting the glass down before moving to the glass door leading to the balcony and pulling the curtains away, enveloping the room in the early morning light, the grouchy Sin’dorei letting the Gnomish cursing sound out louder, clearly displeased by the sudden blinding on top of being lectured by a machine. This would only be brief, as her small frame settled on the bed, legs crossed, running the brush through her long fiery red hair, her eyes sleepily watching the outside world from behind the door, now pushed open by the machine, who went about its business once more.

The construct waddled out onto the large balcony with its watering can once more, a plethora of pots of various sizes waiting patiently for their morning water. One by one each of the plants was sated, the little construct buzzing away a merry tune as it moved between them all until it was satisfied with its morning work. Upon returning inside, it would set the empty watering can down and clamber onto the bed where the Sin’dorei sat finishing the rough braid and leaving it to rest over her shoulder and down her chest.

“Right, let us get to it then Dewdrop, I have a lot to do today.” The Sin’dorei would murmur out, removing a light mechanical harness from a stand and fitting it to her bare form, the construct stepping up to assist in fastening clips and buckles as each piece of the harness was fitted, the padded cloth between her skin and the metals saving her from a chilly shock.

As each of the straps left to the machine’s hands were fitted and tightened, it would step back, jump down from the bed and return its attention to the watering can as the Sin’dorei set to clothing herself for the day, waddling out of the room, through the hall, through the lounge and into the kitchen, hopping up to the counter once more to set the can back in its rightful place. It’s next task began, with it removing two small rolls of bread from a box and stuffing them into a pouch, along with a small punnet of grapes and some wrapped cheese before hopping down off the counter and placing the stuffed pouch carefully into a worn down satchel.

No sooner had the little construct closed the bag did the Sin’dorei come rushing into the kitchen, grabbing the satchel and moving toward the exit of the apartment, calling out to the machine, “Do not forget, I’ll need you to bring the other two over to the workshop later today, about midday.” She’d turn to the lounge, barking out “Solaris, Vesper, Dewdrop is in charge today, be good.” Before storming out the door in a hurry.

The two larger constructs would whirr into action at the mention of their names, looking over to the smaller of the three, ticking away quietly. The little machine would buzz, glaring at the other two in what could be considered a menacing way and they appeared taken aback, looking to one other quickly before nodding.

Dewdrops day had begun, after waking one grumpy adult-child, it was now left to contend with the other two arcane clockwork hybrids, a challenge that would surpass the ease of gentle morning routine that seemed so lost to the machine now.

[Ranthos-argent-dawn]

Townlong Steppes, the evening the Skyguard and comrades fought a Kunchong.

Waking Nightmares

Ranthos could not sleep. Despite the days excursions leaving him exhausted physically exhausted, his mind would not rest. Though the ailment that had afflicted him had long since passed, he could not shake the sound of the screams, or the look of terror in the eyes of those he’d been made to see. Some of the faces, he recognised, people he’d known, people who had outfitted him in the Sunreaver colours, people who had smiled at him as he passed through the streets on his off-duty hours. Some had even thanked him, grateful that he had gone to fight the Scourge. Now their faces were masks of horror, mouths pulled too far open and eyes wild and desperate. They were all staring at him, hating him, blaming him. Blood pooled down over cheeks from wounds invisible to the Elf, the sounds of chains rattling and tightening enough to snap bone joining the screams of a terrible orchestra. Their eyes glinted in the dark at him, it was almost enough to…

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sudden shifting of the Elf beside him. Her ebony locks cascaded over a shoulder to tickle at him as she sighed sleepily and nuzzled into his chest. A gradual semblance of peace slowed his heart rate back to normal, bringing him back to reality. They were in Townlong. The flying city was not nearby, and the Purge was past them. He took several steady breaths to calm himself, grimacing at the chaos in his mind a few moments prior.

He started to slip again. The piercing thought of the Isle of Thunder close by broke apart his resistance and he could hear the sound of frantic running again. Boots bounced off cobbles, echoing out into the night. Thunder boomed around them. Two pairs of tired breaths almost muted the sound of arrows slicing through wind. One breath was silenced. He heard her fall first, a startled cry forcing him to turn. Raealin had an arrow through her heart. It had been such a perfect shot that she was dead before she hit the ground. She was the affectionate sister. She always made sure that he hadn’t forgotten his gear and had made it a mission in life to force a smile from him every morning, afternoon and evening. The loss of her was such a rip in his soul that he almost hadn’t ran. But run he did, forcing his eyes away from the once lively Elf. Rain beat down on him, obscuring his view of his pursuers, not that he wished to look at them. He had to get away. Back to base, into a river, anywhere away from here. So caught up in his desperation he almost didn’t notice when he stumbled and fell to the ground. He tried to pick himself up but his leg failed and collapsed under him. Then he saw the wooden shaft sprouting from his leg. The rain was so heavy he almost didn’t hear the approach of footsteps. Then, out of the squall, a figure ran towards him, and clubbed him around the head, he knew nothing after.

He awoke some time later, he was not sure when, but it was still dark. His vision was dizzy. He did not notice when they pulled him off the side of the road. He did not react when they threw him on the ground and forced him onto his knees. He did not register when they tore off his shirt. A line of fire exploded down his back, pain erupting over him and threatening to burst his eardrums with the scream that left him. A second line burst a moment later, though not a third. He fell to the ground, not noticing that he had just been rescued. His eyes were fixed on the other Elf that had been brought with him and dropped next to him. The open, lifeless eyes of Raealin, his sister, staring back at him.

Ranthos awoke in the tent with a start. His chest pounded and he leaned back with a sigh. The Elf beside him shifted, slipping an arm over him to claim his shoulder now, too. It was just a dream. He wasn’t on the Isle anymore, Dalaran was not above him, they were safe. But he was restless. The end of each nightmare had drawn out a thought. As each face stared back at him, he was hit with the accusation that they had been trying to tell him.

He had survived, but they had not.

It took a long time that night for the Spellbow to find sleep again.

[Rowynwen-argent-dawn]

When life became complicated for Rowynwen Hawkwing.

Warm rays of morning sun pierced through an azure veil that gently swung to and fro with the languid and un-rushed motions of a world trickling along without the rush of mortal concerns. The sound of running water and bird song blended into a sweet harmony, that barely managed to touch on the peripherals of cognitive thoughts, that swam in a muggy matter to the surface of a bundled swaddle in her bed. Nimble fingers braved the confines of a blanket, scraping the cloth and tugging it tighter around the groaning lumps and bumps hidden beneath it. The scent of wild flowers was lost to the more home-made fragrance of freshly washed linen warmed in the shared heat of body and blanket, giving the poor ailed elf the sense of much needed security.

Rowynwen was awake enough to know that she was avoiding getting up and facing the day, but willing enough to maintain a wall of feigned ignorance to this fact if it meant she could continue to pretend last night hadn’t happened. As though summoned by the sheer will of wanting to escape reality, reality snaked up from the foot of the bed, burrowing beneath her blanket and jutting its cool carapaced face against her own. Opening her tightly shut eyes, Rowyn looked at reality, Pipper looked back, her large eyes watching Rowyn with a sharp shrewdness to them. “Oh Pipper- did that really happen? Did I really make such a fool of myself?”

It haunted her in the pits of her stomach, it was supposed to be like in the book she had taken out of the library. A natural progression in a friendship that- yes, she does feel a little overly strongly about-… But a natural progression nevertheless! Just two colleagues meeting for dinner, a simple meal of bean soup made by her Sergeant. Nothing odd about it. So then why did she turn into melted butter the instance the Sergeant started speaking to her. Oh the tea, there was tea everywhere!

Rowynwen’s cheeks grew to a poker hot red, her eyes scrunching up as she reached out to grab Pipper and yank her closer. Pipper’s eyes widened as the scrawny arms wrapped about her neck and pulled her closer with a high pitched caw escaping her throat. “That wasn’t even the worst part Pipper! He kn-knows I sent him that card! And then when we went for a walk he a-… He ah… He ah–Eek!” Unable to finish her sentence Rowyn presses her face against the golden shimmering scales of Pipper’s under neck. Indeed, that memory caused her quite the flutter in her chest, the Sergeant and her at the shores of the beach. Frothy waves ambling across the yellow pale sands as he turned to her, wind wiping his silver hair as he held up his arms asking her for… A hug. Rowyn emerged from the confines of her quilt cover and rolled out of bed running on the spot and reaching her arms up to the ceiling letting out a squeal of anguish. Pipper slithered onto her stomach watching the elf with a bemused expression as she sought to take the chance of her distracted companion to steal some jewels from the bedside table.

“Oh Pipper! I can’t believe I really feinted and he had to carry me all the way home! The place wasn’t at all ready for a guest, I even had Alpha’s undergarments up on the washing line! He must think I’m the worst! And what’s worse is he knows!” Inhaling the elf gripped her crimson tinged cheeks and let out a scream into the usually empty field.

That is usually. “Er-… I’ll just…leave these here then.” A postmaster peered into the azure doorframe of Rowyn’s house with an alarmed expression, dropping two packages before legging it up the field without looking back. Rowyn sunk to the floor in abject horror, in a poof of fluffy nightgown. “I- did you order things from the market again Pipper?” The golden Dragonhawk released a huff of indignation before coming to Rowyn’s side as the elf gathered up the packages and peered at the two notes. “For Pipper, may she forgive me for the scare." Rowyn’s brows knitted together in a ginger quizzical frown, fingers going to help open Pipper’s package only to have the Dragonhawk snap and chitter in anger, picking up the package and flying out of the door with a haughty caw. Outside wrapping went everywhere littering the field, shreds of leather that would have been a nice pouch once. Inside three crystals fall out and land softly upon the floor, shimmering an arcane blue as they catch Pipper’s reflection. Well that was it. The self indulgent creature did not come back inside until the sun went down, not even when Alpha the ravager turned up to sit behind her, looking with his beady black eyes into the crystals.

Rowyn, however, turned to the other package and unwrapped it carefully from the pouch, eyes glittering with wonder as she held in the palm of her hand a snow globe sat upon an ebony base. Inside it was snowing over a scene of Winterspring showing the Frostsaber rock, a famous landmark and some of the sparse trees about it. Tilting her head, she gasped as small figures emerged showing miniature Frostsabers going about their business. It was enchanting! Rowynwen smiled brightly and went to place the snow globe on her singular window ledge, letting the sun catch the scene. She then turned to pick up the pouch and the note that hung onto the side “May we get the chance to get lost.” A trill hammered in the Rangers heart as a familiar warmth fired up across her blood veins and set her nerves a fry.

And so it would seem, as the postmaster kept running, urged on by the strange squeals and screams he’d later confide in the coffee break room at lunch to his other workers, that the troubles for our love struck Ranger, had only just begun.

[Gaxxius-argent-dawn]

Parting Ways

The heavy rain was hitting the living room windows and the wind was howling outside. The fire was crackling loudly in the fireplace, the Spellbreaker was sitting in his favorite chair, watching the fire in silence. Thinking about the past week, everything that had happened was almost overwhelming, the same emptiness filling him again. Without looking away from the fire he sighed before speaking with a tired voice.

“You haven’t been here in many years, but it’s good that you’re here.”

A thinner elf with short raven hair stood in the doorway, his leather tunic drenched in rainwater. The elf pressed his lips firmly together, folding his arms over his chest, eyeing the spellbreaker up and down as he started to speak.

“So… A little sister, huh? It’s kind of obvious when you think about it, black hair, strong personality, powerful pyromancer… I could imagine the poor girl has a lot of questions.”

The Spellbreaker’s ears twitched as he listened to his brother, he finally turned his head towards the elf in the doorway, he sighed again.

“I will answer all of her questions in time.”

The blood hunter hummed quietly, his ears pinned back as he heard his older brother. He clenched his jaw, not happy about the short answers he was given. He straightened his back, puffing out his chest a little.

“I left the Skyguard, I came to gather some of my things. I’m going to Kalimdor, got some unfinished business.”

Gaxxius turned back, continuing to stare into the fireplace, shaking his head slowly. The room went silent once again, the only thing that could be heard was the rain hitting the window and the crackling fire. He parted his lips once again.

“You will travel south, find out where -he- is hiding. Find out what he is doing, and then report back to me.”

Keeli clenched his jaw, his balling his hands into fists, he glared at the elf in the chair. He raised his voice.

“Have you gone mad? I’m not going to go searching for someone that tried to turn me to ash. I’m not going to-…”

The blood hunter fell silent as soon as he saw Gaxxius digging his fingers into the armrests of the chair. The Spellbreaker slowly stood up and turned to face the elf in the doorway, offering him an icy stare. The wooden floor creaked loudly as Gaxxius slowly approached his younger brother. Keeli didn’t look as confident when his brother approached him. He nodded slowly and hung his head.

“I’ll find him…”

“Good boy… Now, gather your things and leave. I have visitors coming.”

Keeli walked out the door with haste, hurrying to his room to gather what he needed for the journey. Gaxxius calmly sat down again, patiently waiting for his visitors to arrive.

[Leynwa-argent-dawn]

Dewdrop Dewfeather - A Diary Entry

Today was quiet, Vesper spent the entire day sitting idle, not wanting to do anything, or listen to anything I had to say. Unit is dissapointed in Vesper’s attitude.

Unit went to market today, supplied fresh fruit and vegetables for Miss Leynwa, she is fond of sweet grapes, and now has the stock to prepare meals for herself, if she had the capacity.

Miss Leynwa is often occupied working on one machine or another. Speaking of, she returned with Solaris this evening.

For a combat unit, Solaris does not appear overly durable. As this unit understands, there were extensive repairs made with what was available. Missing parts give impressions on Solaris being out of action for a short period. Missing an arm and a head has a large impact on functionality.

Even so, Miss Leynwa appears in high spirits.

Unit has made a get well card for Solaris, Unit is positive Solaris will be overcome with joy upon reception.

Unit is shutting off for the night.

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

Stars litter the sky like freckles sprinkling over the surface of the fairest of skins, releasing a silver sparkle and holding the secret that only the moon and a collection of selected people were privy to. Indigo dancing crystals mark a cobbled path, gnarled with forgotten roots, pushing up the paving stones, the light from the crystals calls like a beacon guiding the way home. A gentle, magical wind sways at the backs of the visitors who delve the blackened woods, pushing them onward with an almost playful manner. Mischief is in the air and the woods seems to hunger to let the walking visitors in on its secret, leaving an excitement buzzing in the up-drafts.

Pressing across a babbling brook and following its silver slither, sooner or later the crowd comes to a hidden building that stands proud and old in its foundations. The lazy light of the moon and the yellow lights of fireflies brings to life the elven home of the Thalassian Skyguard - Mistbrook. White washed walls stand straight with pillars of chipped gold and a crimson roof with glass missing at the window at its crest. But beyond this, there is something charming about the unfinished building, once a ruin and now like the woods, life being breathed back into it. A bright arcane light rises towards the sky from the middling platform where the sounds of familiar voices can be heard, summoning the guests up a nearby ramp and forgoing the open door to the officers ground floor rooms.

Clambering up, the Gilded Blades and a few sparse others are greeted by a platform made entirely of arcane glowing gems set in between cobblestones, forming the shapes of several Dragon-hawks dancing around the perimeter of the platform that encircles the building. Stepping forwards the Blades could see to the side two braziers have been set, unlit and empty, the smell of fragrant sandalwood fills the air from large burning incense pillars either side of the braziers. Welcomed inside by fellow comrades everyone is invited to help themselves into the middle floor communal room which has been laid out with a spread of fine foods, cooked to perfection by Ashleaf and Ranthos and drinks with no expense spared as though someone else had paid for it. Unknowingly.

Captain Autumnvale moves to stand between the braziers, his eyes moving to the large disc in the sky, inhaling deeply as the wind tousled his hair before turning his form to smile at the guests and colleagues. “Ladies and Gentleman, the flight of colours is about to begin. If I can have you all please come stand together, Skyguard up front in rank order, everyone else a well measured step back so you can see.”

“Welcome. It brings me great joy to see so many new faces in the ranks today as well as so many friends and family who have come to watch and support those who are being celebrated tonight. In just a moment, we will start tonight off as is tradition - with the flight of colours. A ceremony in which we release the Rookery of all our Dragonhawks, from hatchlings to adults, guiding them to the sound of music. Afterwards we have a busy schedule with promotions, people receiving ace names and bonding where two of our Cadets will be chosen by two Dragonhawks, for the rest of their time together.”

“I think I speak for all of us in the Skyguard tonight when I say this is a special evening, one that’ll mark the peak of a fliers career and the precedence for future fliers. But it is made twice as special for the people who have come to celebrate with us. As I said, we’ve a lot to get through tonight so I won’t go on about what the flight of colours is. As always…it is better to show you.”

The Captain turns and takes out a small metal instrument which he hits to the side of the brazier beside him, causing the instrument to vibrate and quake with an arcane aura surrounding it. Soon a sweet melody with a strange fluted roundness to each note calls out and visibly before De’vontae, swirls of natural green energies begin to release like ribbons from the item. The music rises and falls—deep lulls and glorious crescendos, trills begin to form a song that is wrapped with long pauses, as though waiting for an answer. The way the audience is positioned, they’d be watching the ribbons lead out over the edge of the platform and to the landscaped view of Eversong beyond. Over the river, and up towards the Waterfall on the right.

Moments pass before it happens, in one of the inset pauses of music a gentle cry of answer comes back. The noise repeats the melody of the song. If you had thought you had imagined it or missed it, it happens again, unmistakably with each pause. If you listen hard, you could swear the sound is coming from the east.

An arrow formation of shadows dart out of the spray of the waterfall faster than a bullet, diving and keening down with the falling water towards the river below. A whooping sound of a birds cry followed by a unified roar can be heard as the figures snap open wings, arching up with a show of athleticism. These figures arch towards the sky and release plumes of flames that meet together to create a spark that they fly through, the heat of the flames can be felt from the platform.

The figures turn in the air and with a few beats of music, the wings of eighteen Dragonhawks can be seen beginning to synchronise, aligning together as they begin to fly forwards towards the platform of Mistbrook.

The moon gathers and the azure lights flicker shining onto the bodies of various Dragonhawks, all different in size, colour and shape, from reds, golds, greens, purples, pinks. These Dragonhawks are adorned in plated armour, each with a gilded name that can be read on their crests. Skylark, Cloudkisser, Ghost, An’telas, Keyo, Idrilla, Ignaeus, Sorelais, Austral, Tezani, Paskel, Rivatha, Stargazer, Vixra, Eurwen, Nymira, Cloudsinger, Galath.

A big thank you to the Gilded blades, Zarale Brackwater and Felicia for coming to the Skyguards ceremony and helping us celebrate the following awards and moments for the Skyguard members.

Vaelath ‘Cantrip’ Ashleaf, promoted to the rank of Sky Warden for outstanding dedication, compromise and continued support of the unit.

I’len ‘Talanas’ Lavellan, brevetted Lieutenant while Lieutenant Yasmyr ‘Bandit’ Starglow is occupied in service of the High Home.

Skyguard Mal’thadian Dires’Val, dubbed with the ace name: ‘Felreaver.’

Skyguard Leynwa Dewfeather, dubbed with the ace name: ‘Dynamo.’

Adding to this shift in the ranks, the unit took the opportunity to commemorate a pair of elves who have, quite recently, stood out for their heroics and were yet to be recognised:

Sergeant Erivana ‘Savant’ Everstride, awarded with a Pinion in Bronze for ‘Inspiring Heroics in the Skies of Hillsbrad.’

Skyguard Gaxxius ‘Gallant’ Dreadstar, awarded with a Pinion in Bronze for 'Remarkable Valour in the Skies of Hillsbrad.

Lastly, the Skyguard is happy to welcome the newest members to make the rank of Hawkrider alongside their siblings, the newest War-Hawks:

Hawkrider Tayara Coldspark, bonded with the pure Red Emlen.

Hawkrider Daisy De’morae, bonded with the Blue-Red Aravel.

[Leynwa-argent-dawn]

Dewdrop Dewfeather - A diary entry.

Miss Leynwa took this unit to a new place recently, it was what would be considered fun, as far as unit is aware.

It was an unusual place, with many colours, that housed new friends.

Unit was being toyed with, unit could see something above but could not reach, would always move away when unit was close to grabbing.

Unit got to experience flight without Miss Leynwa, it was entertaining, but she was cross.

New friends took unit for a ride, very swiftly they move. Was shown a nest.

Wheeeeeeeee, Unit did cry, many many times, but ride had to end, was returned to Miss Leynwa.

Unit was then asked to move eggs, some looked odd, only unit was able to reach them. Saved all good ones.

Miss Leynwa has been in a good mood since a ceremony too. Unit was unsure of the purpose, but was given a box by Captain Kaboom-Fu. I like him.

Miss Leynwa has been playing with contents of box, two more eggs but more like unit. Become flight capable after interaction, mechanical copies of larger Dragonhawks, not like ornithopters Miss Leynwa makes. They match Solaris and Vesper in colouration, and Miss Leynwa treats them with as much kindness as Paskel, minus the interaction with throwing bags. Unit is still unsure on the meaning behind this interaction, a connection Miss Leynwa and Paskel share, possibly.

Miss Leynwa mentions not thanking Captain Kaboom-Fu and Shady-Not-A-Sergeant enough. Names are not correct, but unit associates phrases with individuals, diary must not be confused.

Miss Leynwa is preparing for something, another adventure possibly, seemingly intent on not leaving until work is done. What work?

Unit needs to see to plants, some are getting big. Unit wonders if it will get big like they do.

Goodbye diary.

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

Posting for Gaxxius Dreadstar

Gaxxius woke up in the middle of the night, he glanced over to his right side, the Pyromancer was wrapped in profound sleep. He smiled to himself, for the first time in a long while he felt that he could rest, the great halls of his castle had been feeling less empty since she began to visit him regularly. He thought about everything that had happened the last couple of months, how he felt closer to some of the members in the Skyguard. How he had opened up more about his private life to his friends and how grateful he was for having them. He quietly got out of bed to grab his journal and quill, being very careful not to wake the pyromancer. He sat down by the table next to their bed and began writing:

These past few weeks have been quite the journey, it has its ups and downs, but it feels better somehow. The Skyguard is still growing and it’s almost new faces every week. It’s always exciting with new eager members, but it’s hard to remember everyone’s names. The Captain and the other officers are going to have their hands full, trying to sort everyone out. I have to admit that I’m starting to miss Yasmyr a little, she is the one that rules with an iron fist and bludgeon people that don’t behave… I know that we’ve had our differences but I really miss both of the Starglows, I hope they’ll be back soon.

I’ve started to socialize more with some members of the unit, spending one or two evenings each week with Wolvar, he still tries to teach me woodcarving, I’m still terrible at it and I doubt I’ll get any better, but it’s very calming to sit and talk to him, he is one of my best friends. I run the woods with Romulo in the mornings as usual, he’s still faster than me, but I’m enjoying the company nonetheless.

Olinea has been digging through the library for quite some time, she claims to have found a half finished recipe for a serum that could heal scar tissue. We’ve been traveling to strange locations just to find the right ingredients. If I’m being honest I don’t mind it one bit, she seems to be very dedicated to making a serum that works. She uses me as a guinea pig to try each new variation of the serum to see if it works, so far nothing has happened other than I had an allergic reaction to fire leaves… But as long as she doesn’t make a serum that kills me or turns me into a frog, I’m happy to help.

[Lavelan-argent-dawn]

Having recently returned from a wonderful campaign in the the less-than-wonderful shattered world that saw them crossing paths with the Starcursed, the Skyguard are slowly easing themselves back into their regular programming!

Once they have had time to mend, there is no telling what awaits the group of fliers next.

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

Story in relation to current Skyguard event, as told by Skylark the Captains Dragonhawk.

The dark inky black stretched across our nesting grounds, speckled with glowing lights that the chosen children call stars. The white rock watched with its seeing eye, closer than it had been in its cycle so far, its pasty hue gave a fever that exaggerated my siblings and put anger and madness in the hearts of the chosen. Fire cloud had left the blue arcane glowing in our sleep cycle rooms but it did not give respite this night as I stayed in vigil and watched the tossing and turning of my family.

The young spirits laid against Mother Red with their heads to her warm stomach seeking the comfort her scent and long lashed wings gave. Father Gold lay in the distance, half asleep and half watching Mother Red with worry set like a stone in his stomach for her deep sadness that oozed from her like a wound. Theirs was a story of much sorrow and it brings a shared sadness to our lives, though hope remains they will too find a chosen child that will give them meaning beyond the hatchery.

The Warriors lay in their own nests, the golden twins together with head to the others tail mewling softly in deep sleep as they chased clouds in their hearts. The collector was curled up with her piles of dead leaves that the chosen had painted with their strange curls and lines, a long curled piece stuck out from her beak.

Sky light kept herself in a perfect circle with her wings carefully displayed to show the lights that danced from them like the waves that colour the frozen Norths skyline. Opposite her the green fan tail copied Sky lights careful poise in hopes that she will appear more beautiful with her preened feathers and treasured green tail placed over her beak.

Great Iron lay on her back, beak open and tongue flopped out. Her large stomach like a tree trunk raised and fell with Green Rivers laying sprawled and carefully balanced, a destroyed leather holder of things stuck in his mouth as he dreamt of destroying more of the strange contraptions.

Many more of us had become the warriors of the misted brooks, and it should have made us feel safe to have the numbers we did. But great unease troubled me as I lay beside Darken shield, watching him closely less something crept into our home again and stole him into the night. It had only been a few sleep cycles since he had returned and he had just started to relax again. But tonight with the close white rock giving off its maddening glow, Darken shield tossed and turned with flickering eyelids.

I pressed my beak to his face and closed my eyes trying to encourage a calming presence beside him like our Egg Mothers would have those many life spans ago. Though my intention was to impress my aura to him, I did not expect to have him respond with his own, and it was far stronger than my intended whispers.

I found the world darken as he shared his bad omens. A dark child of the dead woman walked with a shadow over her face, her hands holding the yew of a tree curved into a weapon for killing with pointed flying branches. She was walking across the top of a white cloud serpent that walked the top of the great wets waves, passing giant rocks made of clear hard water. The frozen Norths sky lights danced behind her in several flashes as they approached the land of a pale yellow tundra dusted in frozen water. Upon the land a dozen more dark children waited.

A flash of white obscured my vision, when it cleared I was staring at one of the dead leaf paintings which resembled the land of the blackened woods . It had been marked the colour of blood and showed a path to flee from one side to the other, indicating the misted brooks and circling them. A new line, coloured in dark black showed a path heading to the place where the lines of ley meet, the red continued on across the north sea. A trap, a ruse.

Flashes of white once more obscured my vision and this time I saw the chains that held Darken Shield down and the taunted way they held food from him and water. How they used tongues of great red hot to push him down a small hole and bound him to walls of stone.

When the images subsided, I pulled my head aside to see Darken Shield awake, eyes wide and his breathing heavy. I looked across the dark room and saw the glowing eyes of my siblings watching. We all saw. I felt the stirring in my heart of hearts and knew that the chosen children had seen Dark Shields omens, as they rolled out of their sleep cycles, awake and confused.

I knew then, we would be summoned once more to take flight to the frozen north.

[Malthadian-argent-dawn]

Mal’thadian sits bolt upright, panting and staring out into the darkness of his bedroom. Sheets a mess and stuck to him as what ever in his mind made him start so violently has covered him in a sheen of sweat.

He rubs his face with his right hand, glad the coolness if the metal removes some of the tension in his sudden rising. He reaches up and places his hand on his bonding rune on his neck, closing his eyes for a moment as he focuses on his sibling.

He frowns, feeling the same unease in Rivatha (Great Iron) as he felt in him self. Opening his eyes he looks around the room, only know checking to make sure the person sharing his bed is still sleep. He slides him self out of the bed, standing on the cold floor and stretching his body out. He moves to a dresser and picks up his eyepatch, slipping it over his left eye and looking at him self in the mirror, only for a moment.

He dresses in near silence, pulling on his leathers, padding and light chain he wears under his platemail. He looks around the room once more, smiling a little as he sweeps out into the hallway, striding down towards the stairs.

A head pokes out of a door, pink hair a mess and eyes blinking, trying to focus. “Wha’ ya doin’ up dis earleh? … Or la’e? Whatcha doin’?!” Rej speaks low and quickly. "I have to go to the Rookery … Something feels … Off. And i need to make sure all of the Hawks are alright. Look after everything while im away. Keep my sister safe … " He then looks down the hall to his own room, with a smile on his face. “And make sure my sister does not go in my room.” He nods, as the troll sighs deeply and vanishes back into her own room, as the giant elf continues down to the entrance hall of his home.

As he reaches the door, he stops, hand raised ready to push it open, but his hand twitches slight, his mind working quickly to come up with what ever his body is telling, he nods. "You are right … " He then turns and moves to a large wooden case by the door, swinging the door open, he reaches inside and pulls out a sword, faintly glowing with white and golden light as he slings it over his back, finally exiting the building, and make his way to Mistbrook, and to what ever fate will come to them.

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

The wind blew with a ferocious howl as the salted water thrashed up from below Skylark’s stomach, trying to reach up and pluck her from the skies. De’vontae looked around from upon her back and watched as the Kraken released its grip on the rickety ship they had been sailing on. The rest of the Skyguard banked away from the ship and out towards the mist where sails of black arrows launched from unseen enemies.

Bringing up the reigns of Skylark he urged her on and up into the higher skies to get a better view of his battle siblings. An’telas and Talanas seemed to be going strong though they were more hesitant than they had been before he had been taken. It was an expected set back but one that he and his team had to protect. Wasp, the un-bonded Dragonhawk zipped up to meet Skylark’s wing tip, upon her back Noviah looked grim set and determined.

Next to heed call to form up was Austral and Wolvar, her beautiful wings dulled in the horrific scene with salt muddying her usually pristine feathers. Beside her came Vixra and Elodie, too shocked and focused to make for their silly games with Austral. De’vontae turned his head aside, noting how the enemies rangers had started to take up to the skies in a swarm of black angry mass, their plague bats oozing acidic bile from their open ugly maws.

Rivatha the behemoth floating cow that she was appeared ferocious and unsettled as she spun up to manoeuvre into formation, Felreaver’s face hidden behind his metal helm though De’vontae knew he’d be as mad as his sibling. Next came Nymira and Felicia, newly bonded they seemed nervous but committed and the presence of their determination seemed to calm An’telas down. More so, when Keyo and Gallant joined the formation to complete its long arrow shape in the sky.

De’vontae’s eyes fixed on the enemy with a new measure of calm, they were not going to go down without a fight and they would not be set back here.

The combat began quicker than a blink of an eye, Keyo arching to clash into one of the bats, flames jetting from maws, vicious serrated beaks sought the matted flesh of the damned. Skylark brought De’vontae in close enough for him to take aim with his bow, gripping an incendiary arrow into place before releasing sending arcane flames up to explode the arrow on impact.

Flames flowered and bloomed into the salted sky as the explosion caused a back draft. These were the Banshee Queens loyalists however and they were not to be taken lightly, An’telas spun up to meet Skylark on De’vontae’s left. Talanas yelled up in warning but neither of them had thought what was coming their way was more than a projectile to dodge.

Twisting in the air currents the pair dived, Skylark falling down to the waters. They heard the release of a mechanism too late and immediately De’vontae felt a thousand metal spikes hammer into his back. Crying out in pain he pulled on the harness that keeps his fliers alive in the sky, hunkering himself down stomach onto saddle so that he was a smaller target. He could tell the damage to his back was severe enough he’d not be able to release an arrow well aimed or not.

Skylark released a cry of concern as she speared the air with her form riding higher into the sky. De’vontae looked up over her wind swept antenna and widened his eyes as he saw four of the enemy fliers hone in on Skylark noticing that De’vontae as the rider had been crippled. “Come on Skylark, fly hard!” He felt the fear and alarm in Skylark’s form as she tried to out run four of the plague bats. Two came in from the left and right, her crimson tipped wings folded in neatly as she slung herself forwards with enough lithe speed to avoid them. But just as she started to arch up towards the heavens something gripped at her tail yanking her back down.

A caw of horror rang out into the air as she found she was unable to get free. De’vontae was about to grab for his bow in an effort to help her, pain rippling down his back, when the fourth bat made its appearance. A great shadow loomed up with eyes wide and green acid dripping from its snub nosed mouth. A vicious cruel grin formed on the riders face and then all De’vontae could feel was pain.

Two dagger sharp talons ripped into his shoulders and out the other side hooking him to the whims of the creature. Skylark echoed De’vontae’s cry of pain, anger flaring through her form as she tried her hardest to release flames towards the creature. But they were both held bound by their enemies, captive and at their mercy. But mercy did not come as suddenly De’vontae felt something rip from his shoulder. He couldn’t comprehend what it was, there was no time. Battle moved too fast.

The Skyguard swept in trying against all odds to free the Captain from the focus of the enemy fliers. Skylark’s wings burnt as she tried to stay afloat but the pain shared between them was too much. Acid had begun to burn her tail and his shoulder, the next thing he knew they were falling.

Sea water surrounded them and the cold was almost enough to knock out De’vontae, but he clung to his consciousness, desperation perhaps the only thing that stopped him from finding sleep. He raised his good arm, he wasn’t sure why it was his only good arm, just that his other wouldn’t move. Flowers of arcane flames jetted into the sky to try and make a flare for his riders to find him in the fog of war. Twice he managed to release, once Skylark did the same.

He heard Noviah’s voice calling out to the Captain screaming for Talanas. The fear in the voices of his men, he knew it was bad. Skylark managed after several attempts to get out of the water and together they retreated to the ship, but it was half broken and looking ready to sink with all but the Captain of the ship alive.

“I can get you one portal but it isn’t going to be strong, so run in and hold on tight.” A rip in the air formed the glowing and fading, almost pulsating vision of Silvermoon. Skylark pushed into the hulking mess of wounded Dragonhawks and riders towards the portal, De’vontae’s mind swam like a swamp. He was almost home, almost there… just a little longer.

Suddenly Skylark and De’vontae were falling once more and this time he saw no Skyguard. He saw only white.