“I’d be cautious of trusting anything the Orc says, sister. I don’t know if the Lightforged are up to date on their activities, but they’ve made promises before. They speak of honor, they forswear their barbaric ways, and the moment our backs are turned they exalt those monsters of old. Doomhammer, Blackhand, Hellscream… All ‘heroes’ of the Horde, revered to this day, and every single one a butcher.”
He sneers in the Orc’s direction. “In less than half a century I’ve seen it happen time and again. The beast may whimper now, but it will growl again when it forgets the lessons of the past. They always do. If we do not stop it when we have the chance, our families will pay the price.”
_"Much like most Eredar-kind are over-fanatical, night elves are savages, blood elves are arrogant, Forsaken are monstrous, humans are confusing, Goblins are out to steal from you and almost every single ‘fel imbued elf’ is bad… _
Acts of some does not mean all acts the same way"
She lets out a low sigh.
“Happy winterveil though. I do hope you are able to see through the horrible masses~”
She’d hurl a present towards Zhanag, before riding off.
It contains dried leaves.
Laurenn approaches Rumi with an uncertain step, swaying from side to side. Very possibly drunk.
“Generalising based on one’s race… don’t get me started. Had too much of that. -Far- too much.”
The young sorcress raises her voice. Is she possibly angry? “I’m a purple elf, so I’m of course a N’zoth-loyal power addict wearing nothing but purple and murdering people in the name of the Old Ones. Isn’t that right? Yeah! Best run after me with pitchforks and torches! The Light fúcking wills it!”
She steps over to Rumi and tries to firmly hug her.
“This world is crazy, dear! Crazy, I say you. Craaaaazy. And we’re the insane ones, huh?”
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T’ first step is admittin’ it.
That said ah agree, nae all stereotypes are true.
Drinks from a oversized mug of ale.
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“Ah yes, winter’s veil. The one time of the year where people forget all common courtesy and manners, whilst some old fart that’s either a dwarf or an orc depending on who you ask breaks into your house and leaves goods of questionable origin. Lovely.” Thuldrell glares at the dwarf
“I assume you’re being sarcastic? Of course stereotypes aren’t always true, but they have to have been rooted in some sense of fact to come to fruition, and you? You’re just a walking caricature.”
Thuldrell sips his arcwine, his ego blinding him from seeing his own hypocrisy in the stereotype department.
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“I would advise agains drinking that as soon as you denounce another for being a caricature, but from what I have seen you are not one to listen to others are you…mister…I am sorry, I forget your name.” The noblewoman says with her usual sly smile. She then walks past both the nightborne and dwarf towards the void elf.
“Now if you excuse I will go and commit acts of debauchery with this one, if she agrees, and a young elf who is no doubt eager to be with myself.”
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“…”
Nendrovus, for the first time in recent history, is speechless. On one hand he is immensely excited for whatever Ilivara has planned; on the other hand, it might not go well with the wasted Void Elf in tow.
“Uh…” He anxiously ponders, but soon decides for it “You know what? Why not!? It can’t go THAT badly… right?” Nendrovus stares at the inebriated Laurenn, then to Ilivara. He shimmies up to the noblewoman and whispers in her ear his scared thoughts.
“You know I’m terrified of the Void, right? I know I told you a few times. Is this your idea of rehabilitation?! She’s drunk! She could do anything and not remember a damn thing! Don’t do this to me! Please!” His words fall on deaf ears, and he finds himself confronted with a sorceress who seems to have forgotten the concept of personal space as she hugs him. Leaving a very nervous young man and a slightly amused noble.
Claps from behind can be heard as Telestria floats over with a big smile on her lips.
“Oh is there a party? I shall tag along!”
looking between the three and ignoring any looks they might cast her way as she flicker her wrist to make them float along.
“I know you did not ask me to join, but the more the merrier as they say… And isn’t this the time of year to be merry? Oh how silly of me!”
As she says this she blinks and pulls out a winter’s veil hat and carefully places it onto her head. Turning around to the rest with her usual smile.
“How do I look? Too much?”
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“Yes.”
With everyone busy with each other, she returns to her whittling of a reindeer. While certainly detailed, the figurine isn’t quite right.
“You take to new ways quickly. That is good for your sake. Some still struggle to regard themselves part of the Horde, not realising that we aren’t a single thing. The amount of shal’dorei now dressed in spikes just to fit in is unfortunate.”
Flipping the wooden animal in her hand, she squints to get a better look at the fine details.
“Needs work. I only ever get to see these once each year. Where do they hide every other day?”
The she-orc sits down besides the shaman and looks at the wooden carving. “I would say that is nice work but my eye isn’y exactly trained to that stuff. I prefer to spend my time drinking and enjoying my nights with good company. Still, that requires focus, precision and patience. Good attributes to have.”
Serrathil nods approvingly as Sonuja goes on about the value of focus, precision and patience whilst the Void Elf is stealthily removing said Orc’s shoulderplates, before stepping back into a void portal.
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Zymara gently whispers in the ear of the Ren’dorei from the inky blackness
“Skulking in the darkness little Rogue? Hinding in the shadows?”
The Shadow Priest laughs
“You are on MY turf now…”
Serrathil arrives to her destination, tied up, without any clotthes or weapons, she lands in her birthday suit, with a little note “Thank you for your donation to the “Liberate the Vindicaar from the Lightforged!” movement! Hope to see you again! Z”
So, eh… ye Prophets words were lost on ye, aye? T’ hole light thing, three virtues, nae dabblin’ in vile sh!te. None of it entered that wee little head o’ yours?
Twenty thousand years down t’ drain then.
“Actually, the holy Auchenai were stewards of our dead on Draenor and their soulbinders held much power of sorts that might confuse many natives when removed from its hallowed context and custom and observed by uninitiated outsiders. Those who guard the gate to eternity know that our lives are less than one breath and a heartbeat for our immortal enemy. Not all such seemingly dark powers are vile.”
Rummaging through her travel bag for a disproportionately large tome, she continues.
“I must still agree; what little I claim that I know with certainty of the Prophet’s will suggests that he might frown on anchorites who use their blessed power for disrobing unwitting elves.”
“She’s right. A lady asks permission first! Hah, but yeah, I don’t know much about the Auchenai, but I do hear rumors. First the Draenei have their own dark priests, then the Night Elves show Elune’s Night Warrior side… I’m starting to think it’s just us in the Eastern Kingdoms who had such a black and white view of things. And here we Ren’dorei were so proud of ourselves for exploring a bold, new frontier.”
“All of life and nature is a balance, Ren’dorei. There are many doors; but no path is untread. Simply instead, less travelled.”
“Ohhh, I see through your poetic excuses, Night Elf.”
Mahli’ficia boops Alystiel on the nose.
“After seeing how cool the Void was with us, you just wanted to follow suit with those eyes, didn’t you?”
Wanting to say something but just giving up, the older elf sighs and says to no one in particular. “Why does every single one of you must act like they are still in the academy?”
Laurenn snickers, walking up to Rylothia.
“Kids, eh? You sound frustrated… want to talk about this?”
“I hope it not one of those “Excuse Me Sir/Madam, do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Saviour, N’Zoth?” type conversations…”