[Belf-RP] Thalassian Skyguard 🐲

[Lavelan-argent-dawn]

The Skyguard is currently dealing with the Curious Case of the Disappearing Captain.

Only time will tell what the cruel seas of the North have in store for this group of fliers.

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

Four days ago…

Miasma swirled around a dark room carrying with it the scent of frankincense, masking the underlying presence of disease. The bitter coldness of Dragonbight sounded outside with a sharp bark of anger at being kept outside, the winds battering in the storm against the leather door. A deep chanting rolled like waves in the peripherals of consciousness in a language that was foreign to the Northern parts of the Eastern Kingdoms residences. Despite the inability to understand what the chanting was, the feeling of being called could not be mistaken, it shared with it the same beckoning of home when you travel too far and too long.

De’vontae lay unconscious at the centre of the dark smokey room, his form bare save for strips of blood-soaked kelp weed bandages around his left arm and shoulder, and long grey fur blankets that hid his body. The elf was drenched from head to toe in sweat and he turned and shook with force as his body tried to fight with the infection of his wounds. Beside him stooped a rotund, cloaked figure with hands holding up burning herbs and a strange slick water-skin with the top removed.

The room was small and vacant of any light save for the green glow that resonated across the kelp-weed bandages that clung to the elf. In the verdant glow, the haze of the incense and burning herbs created its own sea in which crops of humble furnishings from bottles to tables sprung out of the surface like capsized ships in the night.

Outside in the night the crashing winds joined with the calling cry of a Dragonhawk, not native to the lands the scene was host to, but filled with an urgency and heart ache that didn’t take a Beast master to translate. The call swam into the recesses of the unconscious males mind, bringing dreams of floating autumn coloured birds and visions of dances long since lost with people who’s faces he had begun to forget.

De’vontae Autumnvale, the missing Captain of the Skyguard was unconscious for three days and four nights before he awoke with a start. Prying open his eyes, De’vontae groggily looked around trying to grab his blade from his hip where it is usually kept. However, instead of his trusted blade he was instead met with a sharp pain that crossed his back and up to his shoulder that almost caused him to loose consciousness once more. “Argh-!” Pulling his other hand up to his shoulder he looked down to see strange green seaweed stuck to his skin. It was slick and wet and glimmered in the dark light of a lantern.

“I would not move so hastily if I was you, my friend. Calm yourself, you are in good hands here.” The voice came from the back of the room, in which De’vontae strained to try and see in. His vision was usually much better but with a weakened body he could barely make out more than just hazed shapes. His hearing however made out that whomever spoke to him was heavy footed and stout for they moved closer to where he lay. “My name is E’ottaq, I am a mender and have been tending to your wounds for many days now.”

The shapes blurred and swam, causing De’vontae’s head to swim, so he lay back down and looked up to the ceiling feeling through his bonding rune that Skylark was close. The shapes began to slowly drift into what appeared to be an upright looking Walrus staring down at him with curiously intelligent eyes and a great big moustache that dangled beneath a pronounced rubbery nose. Tuskarr… yes that was what they were called. Sweating with fatigue De’vontae inhaled with effort before managing in a croaky voice “Where am I E’ottaq? What has happened to me and where are my fellow fliers?”

There was a pause as the Walrus put a hand behind De’vontae and pushed him up, pressing cold ice water to his parched lips and forcing him to drink. “Your flight creature had said you were with others, though it is only you who I found on my fishing adventure. There was a bright blue light north-west from my usual fishing route, flashed brightly into existence and then left. I brought my fishing boat around to see what had happened and found you laying slack in your harness with your beautiful beast trying to claw onto an iceberg.”

The revelation that there was no others of the Skyguard around created a heavy stone in his stomach. The last he remembered was the battle and then…things get a bit groggy afterwards. “I see. Then I owe you my life. What is the damage?”
The Tuskarr chuckled in a manner that caused his blubbered stomach to quake “You do not owe me a thing, though your name would not go a miss. The village has been calling you Autumn-boy. As for your damage, there was a lot. You were quite the state when you came in, with peppered shards of small metal in your back and a huge wound to your shoulder. You were missing a large chunk of flesh from your shoulder to your neck. I have managed to knit back what was missing but you had no tendon, no shoulder muscle and no collar bone left to mend. We’ve been regrowing it slowly but there was much infection from the sea and some kind of acidic bile.”

De’vontae’s stomach did several twists at the remark that it was his shoulder that had been wounded, he feared the worse than every ranger felt. Could he shoot his bow again? As if sensing his concern the Tuskarr shuffled around and gripped his arm and held it by the bicep, bending it up to his tricep. “You will be able to move like this with no problem, but this-…” His arm moved up to grip the shoulder and attempted to roll it in its socket, the pain was blinding. “This is going to take a lot of re-training. I have grown back what you were missing but it only goes so far, the rest is on your body and resilience.”

Silence followed as E’ottaq moved to open up the door and let in the bright shimmering autumn head of Skylark, of who showered De’vontae in many sand paper licks and coos. The knot in his stomach lessened with the re-connection of his hand to the head of his Battle-sibling, to the point that he could begin to clearly think about the battle, the lack of his allies in the Skyguard and the enemies.

“Tell me E’ottaq, have you seen any ships sail pass by in these last few weeks baring a flag with a pale womans face upon the sails?” E’ottaq grabbed some soup from a cauldron at the back of his tent and gave a hum in thought. “There has been ships of this kind about three weeks back. They docked further west of here and we saw much more movement heading into Storm peaks of cloaked figures. They brought with them the stench of death so we gave them a wide berth.”

Death? The loyalists. So they were here indeed and if he was the only person to make it out of the battle then that means the worse for his Skyguard. Talanas, Wolvar, Cantrip, Gallant, Felreaver, Rosedawn, Noviah. Their faces flashed before his eyes along with their respective Dragonhawks they flew the night of the battle. Skylark gave a knowing look up to De’vontae as if she had felt the same thought come through her mind.

“You have already done much for me and Skylark, I am loathe to ask more of you. But I am needed elsewhere and time is of the essence, would you be able to give me my clothes and some food provisions to last the distance we need to get to Storm Peaks?” E’ottaq came back with a fish scented broth and placed it beside De’vontae with a frown that caused his large brows to sag over his small black eyes. “I can of course provide you with food, we are a fishing village, we do not lack in food. But, as a Mender, I must caution you about such a journey with your shoulder. You may cause more damage to it…”

"It is just one shoulder, I have two and the price of one shoulder is nothing compared to what I would give for those who depend on me making this journey. I know they’d do the same for me."

E’ottaq sighed and waved one of his hands “Well then, eat and I will prepare your clothing and the battle armour you had on your beast here. I can tell you are not going to change your mind with ease.”
De’vontae cracked a small grin at that and shook his head “Not likely. De’vontae, by the way. My name. It is De’vontae Autumnvale.”
E’ottaq’s eyes glimmered with the new founded information “Well, De’vontae Autumnvale. eat well. You will need your strength.”

De’vontae was clothed, fed and given new more appropriate shoes for the snow and thrust out into the cold snowy tundra with Skylark at his side. He gave a brief appearance to the villagers who had helped save his life and promised to return with his comrades one day, he knew that many would enjoy the food, the stories and the warm culture they had to offer. After making his farewells, De’vontae climbed onto his saddle and once more, as he did many times before, clipped himself in his harness and looked with Skylark to the skies. "Come Skylark, let us find our comrades."

[Lavelan-argent-dawn]

Still in pursuit of their missing Captain, the Skyguard have finally been able to leave their life in the sea behind and yet, whether the Tundra will play host to the long awaited reunion remains to be seen…

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

De’vontae prayed that his feet would find safe purchase on the sodden, icy ground and pushed yet harder through the crunching snow and jagged cropped rocks of Storm Peaks dense tundra. The sudden blizzard was both a blessing and a curse, obscuring his foot prints and sound from the quartet of loyalists hunting him whilst misting the way ahead and making the skies treacherous for Skylark to fly. He had left her in a cave for refuge as he continued to stalk the loyalists under the guise she would find him when the storm had parted.

He was tantalisingly close to safety. To reach the cliff tops that led down to the K3 outpost and began his descent there would allow him to escape the Banshee Queens soldiers jaws. But they were fast and merciless, too fast for a wounded elf to outrun, and they would tear him apart if they brought him down. The temptation was to climb to evade them, but the jagged cliffs ledges were broad and low to the ground and the loyalists would be able to follow him into the cluster of rocks.

De’vontae ducked a branch from one of the rare jagged trees and pumped his arms harder, trying to find that fraction more speed. The pain that rippled up his still healing shoulder was like sharp hot poker digging into his side. He leaned forward, taking the risk that his feet might slip again but knowing, deep inside, that to risk anything less would be to fail.

He cursed his fortune. Had the storm passed already he would have evaded being spotted by the loyalists comfortably. But here he was, his second day into attempting to out run his pursuers. When De’vontae had followed the loyalists, he had no idea what he was stumbling in on. The Loyalists were moving with intent up through the peaks and banking towards Ice crown where they ensured to kill anything that might be walking the cliffs that divided the two lands. They had orders from someone and they were prepared, where as De’vontae was alone and there was no one nearby to save him.

De’vontae quashed any thoughts of injustice. He was a Farstrider. He would save himself if it was possible to do so. Chanting swear words to Elune that were lost in the thunder and snow, he ran on. His ears twitched at a whisper to his left and he glanced over his shoulder.

A low dark shape was streaking through the snow above the divide between the two cliffs where he ran, slipping easily through the packed snow, gaining on him pace by pace. De’vontae didn’t need to look behind or to his right. He knew the pattern: one on each flank to get ahead of him and the other two behind him. Once they surrounded him, the kill was inevitable.

He had no option but to carry on running and pray he would reach sanctuary. Ahead, the snow had low cloud disguised his path. De’vontae found himself laughing deep down in his throat, imagining himself escaping the jaws of the rogues only to fall to his death on the rocks that bordered the lower plains of Storm Peaks.

He heard a roar behind him, close and loud. A shiver ran the length of his spine but he kept running. Through the din of the howling winds he could hear the crunch of snow, fleet through the ground. To his right, the figure was now level with him and moving ahead fast, its sleep dark body hard to follow as it wove through the rocks and crevices.

Not long now.

De’vontae ran on, experiencing a growing anger at his fate coupled with a refusal to believe he could not avoid it. It burned at him, sending needles through his body, re-energising his aching limbs and sharpening his vision. And there, through the snow and wind, he caught a glimpse of the edge of the cliff. There was still a chance.

The first pair of loyalists leaped down onto the flat of rock ten paces ahead of him and turned to face him. De’vontae screamed in frustration and slithered to a halt, his chest heaving. Behind him, the other pair slowed. They knew he was dangerous, they recognised his garb, the green leaf and golden phoenix. But he was cornered. They knew they would kill him; they just wanted to do so without being injured themselves.

De’vontae weighed them up just as they did him. They were forsaken, fetid grey and mangled greens tinged on the edges of flesh clinging to yellow bone. They were few but exceptionally dangerous. They followed his every move, every twitch of his hands. De’vontae glanced back to see the pair behind him had stopped and were hunkered down, daggers gleaming, waiting for their moment to strike.

De’vontae took a deep breath and looked beyond the pair ahead of him. Before him faced the option of death at the hands of the loyalists or death a free elf. If he could evade them just once, he would die in a way that he had chosen for himself. Even so, he reached for his long sword and mercy blade. The loyalists growled in response and settled themselves for the charge. De’vontae let his hands fall back to his sides. “Sky Guard guide my steps.”

De’vontae ran at the loyalists, veering to the left to reduce the chances of both hitting him simultaneously. The loyalists crouched to spring, he saw their eyes fix on his head. De’vontae chilled with the certainty of his death. They charged, De’vontae swayed left and saw the loyalists track his movements. One of them, daggers outstretched and rotten teeth bared, travelled steadily towards him. the other was charging too, aiming to him his legs while the first took his head.

De’vontae ducked and turned a forward roll, feeling the rush of cold snow across his already soaked body. The first loyalists daggers swiped clean through the air. De’vontae came to his feet, shoulder burning in absolute agony and try as he might to raise his blades his shoulder gave way, shaking and refusing to rise. He raised his eyes with enough time to stare death in the face.

The forsaken’s blades swept towards him. Thud.
The forsaken fell to the side with such force they were carried to the nearest rock, a tall iron harpoon collected in their side. De’vontae turned to the direction of the harpoon, and that was when he saw it. Eight giant drakes flying in the air and upon their backs iron clad giants with blue skin. The loyalists that were behind De’vontae had sunk back into the shadows, fleeing the new enemy to watch no doubt from a distance. And it was perhaps that fact, of them retreating, taking away the chance for blood lust, that sealed the words that came from one of the drake riders mouths. “Bring me the wounded.”

Four days later

I watched from the back of Sigrid’s room as the giant woman slept in the throws of thick wolf and mammoth fur, her long black hair tinged with white lines as though the snow had infected the night sky. Her eyes were tightly closed and she almost seemed peaceful as her arms clung to her favourite bladed weapon that took the place as her bed partner. I had long since lost the feeling of my right arm since my capture, I spent most of my time either shackled with my arms raised or forced to clean and carry heavy leathers and chains for the drakes.

Vrykul women. I had heard tales of them for many years as a child and thought them exaggerated for they wrote about women taller than most doors that rode creatures with flames like ice but burn as hot as furnace. And here I was corrected, now the glorified slave to their villages Thane. They were a village of women and only took men for one reason, to use and toss away or feed to their drakes.

In fact, I was sure that would have been my fate had Skylark not shown when the storm had died. I was being taken in shackles from the entry to the village and to my new home in the pits, they called it. Where they kept their Drakes housed and would watch me fight to be alive for sports. That was when we came across the cliff face and saw her, her beautiful crimson wings that looked so much like they had been dipped in blood and her autumn carapace stark against the grey and white of the norths skies. A harpoon was released on sight of her and speared into her left wing causing her to toppled and fall to the ground.

I lost sight of myself, a rage like I had never felt before fired itself through me and I managed to yank myself from my oppressors and dive to her side. They had bound my hands before me which was fortunate for as I cradled her head in my lap, I was able to reach her wing with both my hands and begin to call on the wilds to mend her. “Leave her alone! Leave her! She was just trying to come back to me! She knows not what had become of me and just wanted to get back to me!”

It was fortune that kept the Vrykul aside at Sigrid’s orders, she watched me from behind her iron helmet. If they had not, I do not think I’d have survived as I would not let them touch Skylark. The harpoon fell away from her wing and the thin membrane knitted together leaving a small bald patch where her feathers had been lost. Skylark cawed at me and I could feel her begging me to climb on her back and for us to flee together. Though I knew the chances of surviving their many harpoons was slim. I stared hard back at Sigrid “Let her leave. Let me order her to leave. She will not come back.”

Sigrid slammed her harpoon into the snow as Yonhilda her second in command remarked “And what if she brings others back here to save you?” I swallowed and answered evenly “There are none to bring.” Yonhilda turned to Sigrid, all waited for her orders. " Let the beast fly, if she returns kill her. Bring the man. He will be useful to me." I did not know how those words had saved my life, though a life was not worth much for the days I would spend at Sigrids behest.

I was her pet, kept for her pleasure and used for her service as well as to mend and keep her drakes. These creatures were like none I had come across, they did not speak to me or seek my approval and would only let me come to their side when Sigrid had ordered it. I understood, they were of allegiance to their Thane and had no interest in my acceptance.

In my time spent here, I would be brought to clean and wash dishes in the mornings and evenings and tend to the drakes in the afternoons. At night, I was taken to Sigrids rooms and not let out again till morning. I spent very little time sleeping and much watching the slither of Elunes taunting eye creep in the hole of the wooden timbers, waiting for her to pass and for the sun to announce my torture done.

My mornings and evenings I looked forward to the most for it was here I was put in Halga’s care. Halga was a Vrykul who had a human father and a Vrykul mother and because of this was considered dirty blooded and made to be a slave to the Vrykul riders. Halga was sweet, smart and had dreams. She taught me how to clean to standard and in turn I spoke to her at length about the Skyguard. About how at home I had a wife, her hair as red as rubies and her nature as fiery. How I had a friend I saw each morning called Gaxxius and how we ran together across the golden woods talking about his new love and the conundrum of his complicated family. How I then met with Ranthos to carve wood whilst the sun was reaching its zenith and that together we had started our own hidden forest of hand carved creatures.

I spoke about my time with my Dragon hawks and how I would watch Vaelath come and go every day without fail to bring books for his Hawk, or how I’len would engage in deep conversation with his. I even mentioned the people who’s relationships I didn’t understand or perhaps tried to avoid admitting. The Bandit I considered a mother or the Blood Knight I wished would allow himself to be free from the bindings of his duty. We covered many topics and the way Halga listened and tended to my shoulder each morning with balm and ointment. I would say she became a friend.

The night before last, I had overheard Sigrid speaking about the Banshee Queens loyalists and how they had taken to ships and were sailing down to Borean Tundra, picking fights with small villagers for sport. She had been mapping their movement in case they felt they would try their luck with her village. I listened as hard as I could and knew I had to get the maps for myself, because where ever they were, that was where I would find my Skyguard, my family.

Halga listened as she always did to my rant about what I had over heard and for once she was intrigued. “Then we must get you these maps De’vontae. If there is a chance for you to find your friends, then we must take it.” “And what then Halga? You think Sigrid will let me leave? I am too much of use to her for her to be happy with me walking free.” Halga stopped stirring a pot of stew and looked thoughtful at the pot she stood behind, I could see her troubled expression and a hint of fear there. Eventually, the silence was broken “I will help you escape.”

“I can’t let you do that Halga, they’d kill you if they found out.” Halga wiped her hands on her dirtied leathers and leaned in towards me. “They will not find out, I will make a copy of this map for you and in a days time, I will come take you down for morning duties from Sigrid’s chambers and we will serve them their breakfast. I will make a distraction for you, and then you climb out of the window and you run. You run hard, you find your sibling and you get out of here. I do not want you to come back.”

And so, I watched that night following, the sleeping face of Sigrid, and I waited. “Not much longer now my friends. I will be with you soon.”

[Irimeria-argent-dawn]

The Thalassian Skyguard and the Division Twenty Three met up together for one of their first ever outings as a team under the promise of a holiday in an all inclusive resort. But little had they suspected that their portal to the fancy resort would be hijacked by a stolen rogue artifact from the Bronze Dragonflight!

Thrown inside of an hourglass of warped time, the groups were mixed up and divided where they had to follow the lives of two Orcs, a mother and a son and their journey to be reunited. These two would go on to have a role to play in the front lines marching towards Hellfire Citadel and the Infinite Dragonflight saw a chance to intervene.

With the combined minds of the Division and Skyguard, together they managed to fight back against the Infinite and now look forward to having a day of rest and relaxation!

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

The Thalassian Skyguard, having finished their time with the Division on a high note, have now taken to aiding the spire in against a group of cultists that have set themselves up in the ruins of the eastern kingdoms northern lands. We are out of the city until then but will be ending with some RP with the Ashen Bulwark !

[Aelevie-argent-dawn]

Sin’dorei Field Camp
Some weeks ago…

The quill scratched doggedly at the parchment, flowing script swiftly filling the page. The spartan desk was filled with little else; the in-progress field report, the ink well, a half-drained water flask and the arcane lamp that cast the interior of the tent in a warm glow.

Aelevie Dawnsong paused at the end of her latest sentence, half tilting her head as her ears twitched.

“Arenis.”

“Ma’am,” came the reply, as her handler stepped into the light, as if somehow phasing out of the shadows by the tent flap. Aelevie always found herself wondering just how many tricks Arenis Windgaze had up his neatly pressed sleeves, but had also resolved to never ask. Despite her inquisitive nature, there were some books you left firmly shut…

“Were you lurking there long?” she quipped, setting to her work again.

“A flyers gentleman does not lurk , ma’am,” Arenis chided gently, moving up to stand by her shoulder.

“Well?”

“Heh. A minute, maybe two. I did not want to disturb you.”

Aelevie didn’t reply, although she was fairly sure Arenis would have caught the faint smile she tried to hide.

A moment more passed and then she set down her quill, blotted the parchment and passed it over.

“There. The recent triage reports, along with some other matters.”

Arenis nodded, carefully rolling the parchment and slotting it deftly into a sealable tube.

“Matters of a not-quite-arcane nature, I wager.”

Aelevie simply nodded. Yes, that had been an… interesting conversation with Commander Alarin Sungaze; she had known it wouldn’t be long before the taciturn dragonhawk lancer became aware of the duality Aelevie kept under constant scrutiny.

So she had decided it was wiser to tackle that particular challenge head-on and inform her outright. Sungaze had been silent throughout the explanation, before stating quite clearly that, while she intended to keep a watchful eye on the younger elf, and her blade sharpened as a precaution, if her abilities could be useful to the 5th Escadrille then they would be employed without hesitation.

And so it had gone, for however many months it had been now. Long enough for Aelevie to lose count, that was for sure. She still fulfilled her role as assigned medical support, although now the Ashen Lancers were starting to rebuild their numbers enough that the pressure had been taken off her. Alongside that, her utilisation of both Light and Shadow found use both on the field of battle and in dealing with more subtle opposition.

Aelevie had gotten used to it. She had a better handle on her abilities now, although she refused to ever take them for granted; she had given Arenis strict instructions on what to do if anything even remotely Void related seemed likely to become and issue, and had made him swear on his oath. But, between her roles and the now-familiar ranks of the Lancers, their quirks and customs and their hawks, she felt like she had settled in quite well.

Now it depended what life on Azeroth decided to throw her way next, of course…

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

The Skyguard just finished an event with the Blazing Phoenix in which they experienced quite the traumatic evening of limb removal and body trail following. Now back in the city of Silvermoon they look to hoping for the days of easy jobs that don’t involve the medicine remedy of a hundred bottles of rum.

[Verthanis-argent-dawn]

Dropping a like. Missing you guys <3

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

The Thalassian Skyguard have received direct orders from a certain roguish character to head to the Eastern Plaguelands and defend the high kingdom! Who are we to say no?

https: //imgur. com/a/ gGIEErV

[Coldsháde-argent-dawn (Coldsháde)]

[Illanná-argent-dawn]

Anu belore dela’na, come back to the High home safe my fellow Sin’dorei and good luck in the hunt. (And i am very much jealous that you somehow got Lor’themar to voice a small video for you.)

[Itzamatul-argent-dawn]

Okay. First of all, how in the christ is Lor’themars voice actor even hotter than his voice?

Second of all. How in the christ did you get him to do that?

[Bloodseeker-argent-dawn (Bloodseeker)]

I’m canon twice now.

[Stallnorth-argent-dawn]

It’s offical, I am jealous.

[Lunarglade-argent-dawn (Lunarglade)]

Can’t even be mad at that, fair play.

[Krugraa-argent-dawn (Krugraa)]

Duuuuuuude what, that’s crazy

[Aelevie-argent-dawn]

Another piece of parchment, scrunched roughly into a ball, bounced across the tabletop. The quill tip tapped, staccato, off the edge of the ink well for a few seconds, before being set down. Aelevie Dawnsong steepled her fingers and stared over them at the various failed attempts at letters. She paused, drumming her fingers on the desk for about a minute, before abruptly pushing her chair back and striding to the door. It was probably easier, if perhaps a bit more nerve-wracking, to simply face things head on…

“A transfer?”

Alarin Sungaze looked up from the map she had been studying and slowly arched an eyebrow. Aelevie fought to keep herself from stepping back; even after many months, there was something still intimidating about the Commander of the Fifth Escadrille, that air of an unsprung steel trap. Even so, she knew that, at the core, Sungaze was not a callous or unfair woman.

“Yes, Commander. My assignment to the Fifth was only supposed to be temporary in the first place. It is not that I feel I have outstayed my welcome – far from it – but I realised there are other places I might be of use to our forces, and to the Horde.”

Sungaze sat back and folded her arms, eyes flickering down to the map again, back and forth, then back to Aelevie.

“Without mincing words, Dawnsong, you have been an asset to us; the Ashen Lancers have managed to claw back numbers and capability from basically nothing. And, without wanting to pet your ego too much, that is at least in part thanks to your efforts.”

Aelevie blinked. It was rare to hear the Commander pass a compliment, doubly so when it was not couched in a backhanded or sarcastic manner.

“Your old unit, I take it?” Sungaze sat forward, interlocking her fingers and staring piercingly over them.

“Not quite; the Thalassian Skyguard. A number of my old comrades were transferred there, however-”

“I see. Flarethread!”

Aelevie jumped at the sudden shout. A moment later and a red-haired head poked around the office door.

“You called?”

“Are you simple as well, now? Fix up transfer papers for Dawnsong.

“Oho? I don’t suppose there is any way to convince you to stay?” the Lieutenant asked with a wide grin, stepping around the door for a moment. “Some fine wines? Better quarters? We have got quite used to you being around, you know.”

“Which is precisely why it is time for a change,” Sungaze snapped, before Aelevie could even think of a retort. “Dawnsong has trained up our medics well enough. Time to stop holding their hands and put them to the real test. Get going!”

With a deep, florid bow – and an undisguised wink – Lieutenant Flarethread ducked back around the door.

“Thank you, Commander,” Aelevie began, before a curt wave cut her off.

“You’ve done your duty well, and you adapted to our ranks and our customs and kept them alive, in both senses of the word.” Sungaze looked up and smiled slightly, another rare occurrence which caused the scarring on the left side of her face to shift and ripple. “It’s the least I can do.”

Aelevie drew herself up and saluted. “Thank you, Commander. I appreciate it.”

Sungaze nodded once more, then turned her attention back to the map.

“Are you still here? If you are still in barracks by tomorrow I’ve a mind to start charging you rent…”

Aelevie nodded and headed out promptly, although mostly to hide her smile.

[Devontae-argent-dawn]

“Look at them, Creature. They lie like dolls over upturned soil, limbs at awkward angles and heads held in such a way that they cannot be sleeping. These bodies, once the repositories of children, as alive as I am, are now abandoned shells left to rot in the open. What? Yes, it is sad. Who will send them away? No-one at all. Their work in this world is not over Creature, it is time for harvest and the king will not wait much longer.” There are some things worse than death.

The Thalassian Skyguard move into Tyr’s hand, chasing the threads of a nightmare. Tonight, they go monster hunting.

[The Dead Rise In Plaguelands Campaign]

[Valorforged-argent-dawn]

Cameo’s a website on which you can “Get personalized messages from your favorite celebrities”. Regrettably not every WoW voice actor is on there, imagine the possibilities for us as a community if they were…

Edit: The more famous ones are there ofc, like Jaina’s and Gallywix’s.