Share your Stories!

[Ercia-argent-dawn (Ercia)]

I often find myself enjoying reading stories people have written of in-game encounters or after maths of an event, perhaps something of the characters pasts that hint towards them being who they are today. It’d be neat to be able to read through what other people might have to share.

I’ll start with one I wrote of Ercia as a child. It touches upon her curios nature, or the need to seek beauty/serenity in things around her. Furthermore the high spirited nature she has, and how it is difficult to break even through minor mean acts or grander schemes.

Curiosity

The song of the forest filled the air, the fluid movement of the wind passing through causing the gentle rustle of the leaves. Owls cooed up above the treetops, squirrels scuttled about grabbing as many acorns as their tiny little paws can as they chitter away to one another. Occasional splashes break the surface of the calm waters, fish flying just over the surface only to plunge back, light ripples breaking the surface of the calm waters.

Soil still damp from the rainfall of yesterday, the scents around the area. The sweet aroma of rainbow flowers that decorated the forest vibrantly. It often attracted a certain little curious elf, squelching sounds followed with each enthusiastic footstep she took. Had it not been for the warm air weighing her down causing her to break a sweat, she might have darted about the place following the various wildlife.

Yet her pace was still quicker than that of her brother, Daronis breathed heavily maneuvering about trying to keep up with Ercia. “Slow down,” he growled in annoyance, having been tasked with looking after her whilst their mother was busy elsewhere. Not particularly something he enjoyed but who could argue with a woman like Maercia, it’s almost always an argument you’re guaranteed to lose.

She didn’t quite catch the words directed to her, distracted by the fluttering brightly coloured wings of a butterfly passing her by. It urged her to follow, or so she believed, leading her to quicken her pace in an attempt to keep up with it. Hoping that it’d lead her towards one of the many ‘secrets’ that the forest held. This did not bode well with Daronis, he muttered beneath his “Should have stayed at home,” he yelled once more to her “Slow down or so help me, I will grab you by the leg and drag you back home. I’ve more important things to do than follow you, I only brought you out here so you’d be quiet!”

Yet she still do not hear, her mind engrossed by the whimsical butterfly that she continued to pursue panting lightly. It brought her towards the clear waters, hovering above it, she to came to a halt. Looking about the area, she recognised this area, this is where her sisters brought her sometimes to enjoy a bit of a swim, as quickly as the butterfly distracted so did the deer that lapped at the water. She squatted down nearby the edge of the water, humming quietly to herself staring at the deer with those big curious eyes of her.

Daronis steadily rushed along the path his sister skittered through, grunting as he followed the small footsteps of hers that had dug into the soil and left a print behind. When it came to tracking animals or people in general he had a knack for it, this being one of the easier ones, left behind by a careless child. It didn’t take long for him to catch up with her, still say by the edge of the water staring at the deer mindlessly.

A cruel thought to came to mind, he approached her kneeling down beside her clearing his throat to acquire her attention. “You know, they say if you stare at your reflection long enough. You’ll be able to see your future, what becomes of you,” he said with a smirk slapped across his face, a finger raising to point towards the surface of the water.

Her pointed ears perked up startled by the near by voice, soon enough calmed by the familiarity of it. She listened to her brothers words following the pointed finger, she leaned forwards hands digging into the dirt as her knees touch the ground. Poking her head over the waters, she glanced down at her reflection believing every word he said being the naive elf she is. Squinting her eyes trying to force the image to appear and see what image might appear, what might become of her.

At this point her brother leapt straight towards the opportunity being presented to him on a platter, his hand pushed against the back of her forcefully dunking it into the water. He snorted with amusement watching her fall forwards completely, flailing about with a high pitched yelp. Her upper half dunked entirely into the water for a couple of seconds before she pulled herself out.

He knew he should have felt bad for playing such a prank on his sister, but he didn’t. He saw it as payback for making him have to chase after her. Despite wanting to upset her, she looked up at him with that smile she always had. “Urghh,” he grumbled, not feeling so victorious about it anymore knowing that she found some amusement out of it.

Shrugging his shoulders, he eyed up the now entirely muddy and soaking elf. Knowing that he’d get a scolding if she returned in a mess like this back to their mother, picking her up he said “Come, we’re going back now. That’s enough exploration for you, next time pester one of your sisters to bring you.”

[Kump-argent-dawn]

This is a great thread! Makes me intrigued to write short stories for my characters, specially this one
Keep it up and thank you kindly

[Leíá-argent-dawn (Leíá)]

Very interesting. I love reading about people’s stories.

I haven’t truly brainstormed any past story’s for Lei’liah as of yet - I’d love to try and write something that brings her to the conclusion that Sylvanas and her allies and Azshara and her allies are/were alike. Sort of, a crossover/reflection story between what she saw in the Darkshore Vales, working with the Forsaken and what she saw during the War of the Ancients, and an assault on Suramar, involving the Dreadlords

[Allyrà-argent-dawn]

Ooh this is a nice thread! Can’t wait to see what other people will write and share here.

As for me, I have a story about my Druid, and how she experienced the burning of Teldrassil. It’s rather long, so I apologize in advance for that

https://www.wattpad.com/story/166770186-from-the-ashes

I like to think that this story both shows her ferocious side, and her caring, motherly nature.

[Chíeun-argent-dawn (Chíeun)]

I wrote Pair in Shadows nearly four years ago, back when I still mained Ashi.

It won a writing contest here on the forums. I still look back to it from time to time, thinking about what I did so well back then, and how it can help me write well now and hopefully even improve.

https://www.argentarchives.org/node/158284

[Dhai-argent-dawn (Dhai)]

The background for my oldest roleplay character Grens Firebrand is probably one of my best pieces of written fictions. So I will drop a link to my AA:

´https://www.argentarchives.org/node/36335

[Ercia-argent-dawn (Ercia)]

I recall that, my Orc is mentioned there too. I enjoyed it very much so personally but the best I do with given criticism on other peoples work is “I like it”. I’m probably not the best in that area!

[Montero-argent-dawn (Montero)]

I’m not that great of a writer (though I like to think I’ve improved over time) but if you want to check out any stories I’ve written, I’ve got them down in my Argent Archives page, just search Montero on the website.

[Taelan-argent-dawn (Taelan)]

Well, I guess, here we go!?

Hope you’ll enjoy a short story I wrote. Comments and advice are welcomed since English isn’t my primary language.

A Bowl For All…

The sharp cutting edge formed a groove in a millisecond before its cold steel cut through the mushroom, dividing it into a bundle of quarter cuts with swift movements. The spongy surface of the mushroom was always a bliss to work with, and the colours of white, brown and yellowed mushrooms slowly piling up in the bowl was always a satisfying sight. Another quartered mushroom joined the small hill, sending the pieces tumbling along the surface of the table.

“Hey, where are you going there little buddy?” a hearty voice spoke softly with an undertone of playfulness, “We can’t just have you escape the meal like that”.

Chef Xeroth Ironmist pinched the tumbling piece of mushroom in mid-air between his thick fingers. Turning it appraisingly in his hand before his eyes, looking over the texture and the cleanliness before with a wide grin, throwing it the air to be caught in his mouth. He savoured the texture and the flavour, right now it was quite bland with a taint of dirt but they’d do great work once being cooked. His greatest fascination of food was how they changed in flavour after cooking them, oh, and of course the eating of food.

The chef took a few light steps as he leaned over for a bundle of leaks with one hand, over exerting himself to reach for a few onions with another. His mighty paws taking a hold of three large onions, one claw piercing it to send its juices trickling down his hand. He hated that, onion juices stuck in his fur. He grumbled as he spun around in a refined balanced move, licking his paw clean of onion juices on his way back to the cutting board.

A loud chuckle echoed through the kitchen as he permitted the vegetables to tumble across the cutting board. There was no better feeling for him as a bountiful pantry, cooking was his calling. The sharp knife chopped up the leaks and onion with grace and precision. One pile was pushed towards a little slide together with the mushrooms, and the other pile joined a handful of sizzling chilli, ginger and oil on a pan. The floorboards creaked as he leaned over to one side of his small workspace, moving away his ingenious idea of a vegetable slide, giving him room to take a sniff at the great cauldron in the corner.

A broth flavoured by beef and venison was bubbling away in the darkness of the oversized put, it was thickening up to be a good hearty stew and just needing to be bulked up for a good meal. The ladle spun through the thickening stew and sent potatoes, carrots and diced meat tumbling and bumping around. With a wide satisfied smile, he let loose a small storm of fine pepper corns, salt flakes and a green leaf of his own secret ingredient into the bubbling meal.

The famous Ironmist family secret of a wiggling nose and tail meant the next stage was ready to be added to the stew.

Chef Ironmist leaned over to reach for his skillet that had turned into a mix of aromatic joy as the chili had mixed well with the ginger, softened up with the diced onion and curry leaf to spice it more. He guided the aromatic mixture into the stew with an experienced flick of his wrist, letting the wooden spoon escort the colour mix of flavours into the mighty cauldron.

The big pandaren softly sang as he swayed to the tune, a song a heart that was beautiful on its own but this song was also perfectly timed with another song for when the food was done. The first was a song about brave wanderers that he walked too far that their paths forward once more was pointing home and the other was a song about Longstride the pandaren, and the ‘never empty’ bowl of lintels.

Men, women and children slowly gathered at the big colourful food cart, witnessing the cart swaying from side to side in a rhythm of a softly sung tune. Its axles straining and creaking under the weight of the chef as well as his workshop within. A cloth drape was closing out prying eyes and their view of the magic going on inside but magic it was, and it smelt delightful.

A blond haired girl reached for a wooden bowl that was settled at the side of the cart in piles, spoons stacked in a barrel next to, or more, it looked to be latched on to the cart with ropes and leather straps. It made the girl giggle softly as she had to sway a little in rhythm to be able to reach for a spoon. She was shortly after joined by others who’d followed her suit. There was no hostile or grumpy people, the ones trying to act so was slowly pushed further away.

Street urchins gathered around near the cart with wide eyes, giggling softly and some even humming to the tune of the singing bear within the small house on wheels. They knew they were welcomed and were bringing the news to others who felt shy about it, or ashamed of asking for help.

The blond haired girl screamed loudly in surprise as an older man lifted her up on his shoulder, giving her a better view of the cart and helping her closer. She saw it all. The rice paper lamps swaying from side to side, belts and pictures swaying with the rest. This wasn’t just a cart, this was actually a small house on wheels. A giggle escaped again as she saw the rather large rear of the chef within, just able to be spotted between the cloth curtains. His little tail wiggled at her.

A loud laugh echoed out from the small house on wheels as the curtains were flung open in a majestic and artistic reveal of joy and welcoming personality. Unlike the house and all its colours, the pandaren within was dressed in his white apron and a brown shirt. His black fur always had a different story and his scarred eye just as many. Rumours has it he was cut along the eye as he fought a large crab that he had decided to cook for a meal. Most of the kids around had decided that it had to be the real story.

“WELCOME ALL!” he almost sung out in a cheerful tone, “Seems you all brought some friends with you, eh? Hope ya’ll hungry then!”.

Many in the crowd yelled in agreement as the masses stumbled a little closer to the cart. The bear within wielded his ladle with precision, filling three bowls at a time with that of a steaming thick stew. This wasn’t what some served, not much of a soup or broth but a hearty stew with a broth thick enough to stick to the bread, so stick to the bulkier vegetables and meat. The serving was always a little messy as the chef loved to put a show on for the kids. Telling stories about the great islands he had seen, and fairy tales about some heroic fight between him and the vegetables within this stew.

“Oh, glad you were all here. Might’ve needed ya help. The darned carrots were rebelling!” he spoke out loudly and playful. “… luckily I was supported by the army of rolls. It was a glorious battle!”

Bread rolls were almost by magic produced with a quick flick of his wrists, letting one dump into each bowl as they were passed along. His steady eyes kept scanning the crowd to be sure that people were getting their bowl of food and no one were to bullying them from their meal. There were a few rowdy people in the back but nothing a precision throw of a carrot stump couldn’t halt in time.

“Ya better quit that or I’ll dunk your head in the dishwashing water… AFTER YOUR DONE WITH THE DISHES!” he shouted out, ending in a growl as his bulk was half way out of the small house on wheels.

They all seemed to take his demands serious, slowly stumbling backwards to sit against a wall while eating under his surveying gaze. His serious gaze was broken rather quickly as a small girl was yanking at his apron, smiling wide once his eyes met hers. He sneakily passed her a spare bread roll before his large paw patted her head, ruffling her hair and sending her laughing the most purest laugh.

He leaned against one wall of the cart, this is what he sought, tranquillity and peace. Xeroth was no fighter but this war was a war he could fight. Making sure people are able to get through the hardship that is rippling through the people after each war has claimed their victims.

Chef Xeroth Ironmist smiled widely, reaching for something to nipple on himself while he was watching over the many that had come to visit him today, and tomorrow it would maybe be more. His funding was gathered between many orders, guilds and houses of lords to make sure the citizens were taken care of. He sank his teeth into his snack. The brown wides went wide as he quickly knelt down to the floor to spit out the raw celery stalk that he had bitten in to.

“Hopefully there’s gonna be more left for me than… Yuck… Celery” he laughed as he pulled himself up to the cauldron to see the rich stew was still plentiful.He let his wooden ladle stride through the stew to fish up the tender meat and vegetables into his own small bowl. the thick broth hung onto the chunks as he should.

He licked his lips before leading his spoon for a grand mouthful, savouring the flavours and texture of the meat and vegetables, letting the broth to be slurped up in a few gulps happily and pleased.

“Just like mama’s… “ he spoke softly and dug in for another mouthful.

[Taelan-argent-dawn (Taelan)]

A Dockhand’s Dawn…

Rough worn down shivering hands reached through the lantern illuminated darkness of the dining area, ceasing a served loaf of bread. With a deep inhale the dockhand seated on the rickety bench, relished the scent of the bread, with his tiresome grasp he set to part the bread with a firm twist so that the golden crust relented and opened up to a ravine of its white fluffy freshly baked insides; the scent and warmth being a welcoming sensation in the cold of the morning at the Boralus harbor yards.

The brisk cold winds kept the cast iron lanterns swaying on their hooks, making the flickering light waltz across many tired faces as everyone slowly settled in to their seats to get fueled for another day of hard work, praised but hard. After the reconnection with the Stormwind Kingdom, and their Alliance, many idle members of the Kul Tiran citizens sought to finally reconnect to their trade as the market grew to supply more arrivals, or to work in attempt to afford seeing more of the world. There was more to experience. Even if it took many days of hard work, a tired soul can be a blessed one.

He smiled softly as his eyes met with his sponsor, truly a savior. Known just as ‘Molly’ by these dockhands, she had set herself in a deal with a large group idle citizens to sponsor them the basic necessities they would need to reconnect to their trade. Padded work clothes for the dockhands, carpenters tools for the woodworkers, a restored forge for the blacksmiths, and much more. Of course, there was a price but it was not so much of a stretch that it couldn’t be paid off while living and working.

Another member of his dockyard crew threw a wooden bowl towards him, startling him out of his vacant stare as he tried to catch up on the gossip around. Something about Emily’s daughters being ready to seek a man, Hannah’s son’s growing to be quite the dare devils - though they being only 9 and had been caught climbing one of the barrel stacks.

The dining hall went slowly quiet as people noticed that Molly and her girls were passing along the isles of the dining hall either hauling a large pot of what mainly is stew, or tankards of warm drinks. Not only were she their sponsor but she kept them able to work as long as some of their work went to her as well.

“Thank you, Molly…”

He uttered tiredly as his bowl suddenly received a few scoops of warm stew. The sauce itself was brown but in the dim of light, he could spot the chunks of meat, carrots, potatoes and other vegetables, as he looked down at the bowl with his tired drooping eyes, the dancing waves of aroma slithered up through his nostrils. Warming his body without even eating yet. There was a pinch of something extra this morning, and he was almost certain it was ale battered diced pork among the chunky beef - but he had been mistaken before.

“There’s no need to thank me, deary. As long as you get back out there and earn my coin back, I see no problem in helping each other?”

With a hearty laugh that made her whole body wobble, she once more hefted up the pot and walked along the row of benches. This woman was not some frail little lady, no, she had signs of having lived her life well, she could easily be considered desirable still by many. It could be seen in their eyes as they look at her curves, but everyone were rejected. Lately her life was slowly embedding itself in her wrinkles, greying skin, and ruffled hair that had been pinned up enough to hide that it wasn’t as well kept anymore. She was once the wife of a respectable trader who set himself the big glory of finding the right trade partners, sadly, his last ones were pirates who liked his products but not his prices. She was struck with another loss as her only son was killed in the hills of Stormsong Valley as the Horde arrived, he could’ve easily been the age of many of the workers here - maybe that is why she reached out to so many.

The soft white bread soaked up the sauce of the stew almost as if it was starving for a drink itself, coursing along the edge of the bowl and downwards, as he made sure not a drop was missed before the last shred of bread was consumed with an almost relieved sigh of a content child. His eyes rolled softly to the sides to take on the calming morning cold. It didn’t feel so harsh anymore he thought as he quenched his thirst with a few mouthfuls of lukewarm ale.

In the nearby distance, a bell echoed, signaling dockhands to muster and prepare to unload or load a newly arrived vessel. Before, they had only unloaded the might ships from Stormwind but lately, orders were starting to come through for lumber, fish or other materials - or man power.

His callused hands pushed him to his feet as he headed towards the rising dawn and the screeching of seagulls in the distance as the new ship most likely at the moment would be moored to the docks and made ready for the many to depart and to let him and his comrades do their jobs. His worn gloves were still a snug fit, and thus, he was ready for another day of hard work.

[Taelan-argent-dawn (Taelan)]

There, I promise not to post anything else till like, Sunday.

[Sainur-argent-dawn (Sainur)]

Sainur is not a smart dwarf at first glance, and I don’t consider myself to be a superb writer when English isn’t the native language. Still, have a gander (or not) at my AA page regarding stories of a deranged dwarf.

[Babubebab-nordrassil]

I don’t have time to write a short story, so here’s a short short story.

Yesterday, when me and some friends were ambushing an elf, we got ambushed by trolls.

[Sabinagrey-argent-dawn]

I was being lazy when I created this character and based most of my origin off the character in my book. There are a few major differences however such as my WoW character not being a autistic Formoire cultist like the character in my book.

I’ll write a story concerning the death of my character’s Mother.

I was a young girl at the time of my Mother’s death but I remember vividly the thunderous clouds bashing against the door. It was simply men knocking on the door but they did so in a manner that was aggressive, I shivered and was frozen as my Mother walked up to the door to open it.

When the door was opened my Mother was then smacked with such strength that she was forced to the ground, I watched paralyzed as my Mother stared at the floor with blood dripping from her head and then she looked up towards me with a expressionless face. She wasn’t dead yet but her shock made it look like she was.

One of the men came forward with a bloodied club in his hand as he picked up my Mother and finished the job. With my Mother now dead the men then both looked at me as one of the men asked the other

“What do we do with the kid?”

The other man replied in a acerbic tone “Leave her she wasn’t the one who borrowed the money”

With that both the men left as I watched the scene of the crime until the guards came then took me to the nearby the orphanage in Gilneas. I learned later they were mobsters coming to collect a debt my Mother owed.

Although the years were many since that day I am still lost in the darkness of my memories, deep in the darkness of my heart and coiled in the grass’s that torment me.

I know this is incredibly dark but this tends to be the kind of story I like so this is why it’s my origin. Also those last couple of lines were from a Heavy Metal song. As for how it shaped my character this is partly why my character is apathetic and aggressive.

[Astran-argent-dawn]

Love writing! My Magister is my main and has the most writing done on him! All on my AA!

AA Node: 209412

[Ercia-argent-dawn (Ercia)]

Lovely reads, I’ll share another Ercia story I’ve written. I think this was my first attempt at writing something more upbeat. This was to do with Ercia at earlier stage, exploring her perspective and outwards attitude towards life.

The soothing song of the forest dances around Ercia as she wanders around it. Admiring the lush greenery, she smiles and brushes the tips of her fingers across plants she passes by until her footsteps come to a halt. Something crimson captures her interest amidst the vines. She crouches down meeting it eye to eye, "Hello there little flower," she gently rubs her thumb across the petals, "your petals are quite wonderful aren’t they?"

Odd. That’s a word people often used to describe Ercia. The word had been thrown around by many of her travelling partners across the years. The young elf always has this infectious smile slapped across her face, partnered with her exuberant positivity in almost every situation. She was often met with the same question by companions old and new when they couldn’t quite understand her constant, bright attitude to life.

Why are you so happy?

The response always came naturally to her, ‘I’ve always got a reason to smile. It could be the end of the world, I’d still be able to pick up a rose and smile knowing that beauty will always remain somewhere in our hearts, in nature or in the vast universe around us.There’ll always be a beacon of light that shines in darkness, separating the bad from the good.’

A lot of them didn’t quite get it still even with her explanation behind. Others often smiled and just took it for what it was. Few lectured her finding the whole notion quite ridiculous. None of this steered her views of the world around her. She did appreciate the conversational piece as a whole at the end regardless.

“I’d take you with me but that’d be selfish of me,” she smiles sweetly standing up, “others should also be given the chance to appreciate your beauty.” She hums softly sparring one last glance at the flower before heading back the way she came.

[Braxigan-argent-dawn (Braxigan)]

Never ever put something strange on your head, be sure to clean it first before you do:

A couple of weeks ago, in the Medical Bay of Menethil Harbor

“Aha… so here’s where the spots appear less.” Laying on the stone table again, Braxigan never enjoyed these visits to Doctor Lightfuse. Frederick scratched his beard as the gnome examined the rash of his son. “Anything you notice, doctor?” Frederick asked.

“Well well, it sure looks like a rash. I would expect it started around the top of your head.” the gnome said, pointing at Braxigan’s head. He could feel the gnomish fingers sliding through his hair, “Did you put anything unusual in your hair?” the gnome asked. “Some elven shampoo, but that would be least a dozen o’ weeks ago.” he answered. 'It couldn’t be the shampoo, elves don’t put strange stuff in ‘em… right?’ he thought to himself.

“Elven hair products don’t make these kinds of skinconditions, perhaps a dirty helmet you weared on the battlefield could be the cause,” the gnome speculated. Brax didn’t remember putting on a helmet during their time in Silverpine, but before he could answer his father would say:
“What about a pirate hat?”

His eyes blinked as Braxigan thought about the Captain’s hat he took from his brother-in-arms, not really believing a simple hat could cause a rash. He looked to his left as he saw his father take the hat from Braxigan’s backpack. Frederick flipped the hat and his face squinted as he looked into the inside. The doctor took a look as well and pointed with his finger in the air.

“Well that explains everything, you have Sailor’s Scale!” the gnome said with an exciting voice, “A fungal infection made by those put on a hat or a bandana and let their sweat sink in it for too long under the sun. Anyone could get it if they put on such a headwear too tight.” The doctor brought to hat to Braxigan, he took a look inside to see stains with a brown circle around them. He regretted stealing the hat, asking the doctor: “How do I get rid of it?”

The doctor waggled with his little gnomish feet to a cupboard and took two vials back to Braxigan, “This oil of Briarthorn nuts and Peacebloom will make the rash go away. Be sure to apply it daily for one week and then once per two days until the rash is gone.” Braxigan took the two small vials, “Anything else?” Frederick snickered under his breath, “Don’t put on any dirty hats.” he said. Both he and the doctor chuckled, Brax only snorted at the jest.

Needless to say, I did wash the pirate hat eventually.

[Ercia-argent-dawn (Ercia)]

Musing’s of Ercia, short I wrote off tonight and hopefully reads somewhat well.

Ercia sits under the moonlit sky, specs of sparkling stars scattered across it, in quiet contemplation. Closed eyes listening closely to lullaby of the ocean, hands resting on her lap. Cold briny air gently caresses her skin, her long kempt turquoise hair flowing freely in the direction of it. She collects her thoughts, deep breaths taken assisting her to maintain a calmness about her.

It doesn’t help, beneath the facade of calmness her often overtly positive self is sapped away by a parasite. Leaving her with self-doubt, uncertainty and fear for what lies on the road ahead of her. She often took the opportunity to speak about things that bothered her towards those close to her, those she treasured; but she couldn’t. Not this time.

She had lost track of how much time it had been since she took her leave from the crew, for a journey of her own to gather her thoughts. Lately, she had been at odd more and more with the Captain, differences in opinions and morals leading towards argumentative situations. Each time she was left with a sinking feeling of regret, whenever she defied the Captain orders. She couldn’t help it.

It’s in her nature to do what she believes to be right for the many. If it’s within her capabilities, she’ll act upon and make it happen. Particularly towards those she perceives as good of heart, even if they may not seem it at first. Each time she extends out the hand of help towards another, she’s reminded of the time of her exile. Left beaten and broken of spirit within the outskirts of Ashenvale, bereft of her family and home, without any sense of direction.That is until another gave her the helping hand, pulling her free of the choking despair that had enshrouded her - showing her a way forwards.

Since then throughout her journey, even before the Myrmidon, she vowed to give help towards those that need it. Giving them a sense of purpose and guidance, if she could. It made her feel good in return, filling her with hope that they may in turn grow from this experience, building towards a brighter future. One filled with less slaughter. Selfishness and blind hatred was not an option for her, she did not want to succumb to negative emotions.

Try as she must, one thought stuck out in her mind, away from the growing complications in relation towards her crew. It’s that of her father, throughout her childhood she had been told he was a druid and as a druid often times did he slumber away deep within the barrows. It meant that she never got to meet him at all, to have him there as she grew up. It turns out this was all but a lie.

Alyshera, her sister, passed down the information onto her within Uldum whilst she was down there. Conveying the message of a name and a place for her to search to search; Tero’than Duskwalker within Stormwind. This all did eventually lead her towards him, her father, but he was not what she thought him to be. The man she found was of Highborne lineage; tall, slender, well dressed and a charming smile. He served the alliance, more so the refugees at the camp providing them with laughter and joy during these otherwise dire times.

It made Ercia happy to know this about her father, to see that he is a man far different to her mother but it only brought more question. She eventually gathered up the courage to speak to him, hiding the nervosity and uncertainty behind a warm smile. There’s was a hidden sense of pride in him, as well as there was skepticism. Having been one to train and master in the ways of illusions, she knows well enough how easy it is to hide something with a pretty picture. She had many questions to ask him, few that got answers, others that she preferred to keep to herself - at least for now.

She needed time to process this all, finding out the Mother that grew to spite all things non-Kaldorei, arcane, fel among many others things. She had been partnered with one that embodies at least two of those things. Long enough to be able to have her, Ercia. Any respect for her mothers principles as spiteful as they might have been wiped away, she might of been so towards her but at least she was a woman of her words or so she thought.

However what did this all mean to her going forwards; her relationship with the crew going forwards, her recent discoveries on the past of her family; the true past. Questions she had no idea how to answer infect her mind, clouding it from what happens in the now.

Opening her eyes, she raised herself from her seated position sparing one more glance across the great blue and beyond. This all has lead her to be a little more reserved and quiet as of lately, spending time on her own unless absolutely needed on her own. She took a few hesitant steps towards the galley, turning in for the night.

[Elyza-argent-dawn (Elyza)]

I wrote Dream-Quest of Elyza Lee around 3-4 months ago. It started out as an attempt to emulate H.P. Lovecraft’s fantastic style in his story Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, which you can read here.

http://www.hplovecraft.com/writings/texts/fiction/dq.aspx

Although originally intended to just be a homage to and emulation of my favourite piece of fiction, it quickly transformed into a reflection on the people I’ve met while roleplaying Elyza, as well as one on the people from AD I’ve met IRL.

Much of it can rightly be called nonsensical - the outlandish outlook Elyza has on the world around her at times and her strange perception of time, people and other events fit perfectly into a story trying to capture the feeling of the prepostorous trip that is Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath.

https://www.argentarchives.org/node/221437