Metals and how to forge ‘em!

This is part of my series of WoW Roleplay resources that I’m finally just now getting around to creating. If you disagree with my descriptions, if I missed any metals, or if you have any questions -please- send some mail. 

Metals and Stones: (Side-note. THANK YOU SO MUCH Lightnstuff from the WoWhead forums. Without your little Warcraft Metallurgy page none of this adaptation would be possible. Check out his descriptions as well. http://www.wowhead.com/forums&topic=225428/warcraft-metallurgy-rp-resource)

Keep reading


Drac'thias Bloodrose

Bouncer, Server, DJ, Jack of all Trades


Despite Drac’s normal serious expression this tall man enjoys having a bit of fun, be it hosting a soiree in his own home or hunting down a man as a mercenary.

Drac'thias is rather private about his past unless he knows the person asking such questions about him, even then he might be vague or try to avoid it. What he will say however is that he has just come back into the world and found the new things going on around him to be quite fascinating, especially when he had heard about the events and activities from Crescent Productions.

The raven haired man tends to stay to the side or in the back when it comes to groups, knowing well that if he were in front of someone they would not be able to see, usually seen wearing an open shirt of some kind and his top-hat for most occasions and trying his best to be polite even if someone is being rather rude. When he is not within the city walls he stays near his home, trying to rebuild it after being gone for some time, though he also has a habit of exploring and hunting.



I can be contacted by Drac’s tumblr or http://valkov.tumblr.com/

Feel free to send mail to Dracthias Horde side Wyrmrest Accord in game if ever needed or desired.

kolaboration asked:

Top five favorite cities/villages/towns

1. Silvermoon City While it can be rather suffocating at times, it is the capital city of her people and it will always be home. The Farstrider Square will always hold a special place to her - though these days she tends to frequent the Court of the Sun and the Bazaar.

2. Thunderbluff - A great deal of time had been spent here at one point in time. For a time, it served as a safe haven for travel and a secured meeting area within Kalimdor when these things were hard to come by in her previous headquartered location in Ratchet. She respects the tauren a great deal and the beautiful landscape they keep.

3. Dalaran - There wasn’t much to not like about the mage city when she could go there. And it has been quite some time since she had been there anyway. It is without a doubt one of the most beautiful cities. Though, Asharri did tend to favor Crystalsong Forest down below a bit more during her time in Northrend. 

4. Honeydew Village - The Jade Forest held a memorable spot for Asharri in her travels. Honeydew Village was her first stop when first stepping foot on Pandaria. She enjoyed interacting with the villagers very much and reflects fondly on their brews. It didn’t hurt that the village was nestled beautifully within the cliffs that overlooked the sea. 

5. Fairbreeze Village - This is one of Asharri’s go-to places whenever she wishes to get away from Silvermoon and yet still not be completely secluded. 

Body and Soul (Part 1)

“Is everyonea bastard in your eyes, Nori?” Satheair spat with a hint of disdain as the twoElves proceeded along the road towards the Ghostlands; his gaze hard, eyesnarrowing at the back of her head; a tinge of annoyance written across his face, “Well? Do you?” Satheair was rapidly growing tiresome of her attitude, though his had been no better since he had returned to his friends after nearly two decades, but the end of his patience was growing near as he continued to deal with this woman. It was hard to believe that the two were once the closest of friends, inseparable even at one point in time. A tic of annoyance slowly started in his lower jaw at her silence,

“No, Satheair, they do not become bastards until they intentionally disrespect me, as you have done.” His stride soon coming to a halt, stopping dead in his tracks, all Satheair could do was simply blink at her in disbelief. –He- had disrespected her? A look of utter confusion made itself apparent on his face as the mind of a woman was still a great mystery to him, “How have I disrespected you, Norilain? I mean fel, I came all the way out here to the Ghostlands just to apologize to you for how I acted—Fully realizing that I had come off as an ignorant ass—and all you could say was ‘fuck off, Satheair, I’m busy’ and then you had the nerve to proceed to call me a bastard, yet again.” The tone of his voice rose, not from anger, he simply did so make sure she heard his words. His fel green orbs focused themselves onto her own as she spoke, but something wasn’t right. Satheair watched as the other Paladin’s lips moved as she commented back, the only issue being was that he was unable to hear a single thing she was saying. Suddenly feeling lightheaded , Satheair was soon startled by the soft voice that invaded his mind, “Hello, Lightbearer…” the unknown voice calm and welcoming, “I’ve had my eyes on you for some time now, and while your kind, wielders of the Light, do not usually interest me, you have caught my attention and have become an exception to the rule…” A calming, cool sensation slowly began as the unseen tendrils began to weave their way into his mind. What was happening? Never before had he felt such an unnerving yet welcoming sensation as the foreign fingers worked their way around his head. Satheair was soon brought back into reality when something smacked against the left side of his face; the area soon throbbing lightly.

“Satheair!” He blinked, confused as he looked at Norilain as she called his name. Again, she began to speak but was soon interrupted, “Did you hear that?” pausing, she looked at him, “Hear what?” “The voice—A woman!” While he stood there, his head craned to either side, looking around for the source. Turning his attention back to Norilain for the time being, he noticed that she had now unsheathed her sword, turning her back to him; her stance lowered as she readied herself for a fight.

They cannot hear me, love.”

“There is was again!” Satheair half shouted, quickly scanning the area around him. “Are you sure you aren’t just daydreaming about you latest whore, Satheair?” He simply ignored her mocking tone when the voice again returned,

Only you are able to hear me, darling.” Those same chilling fingers returned and again they began to wrap themselves around the essence of his mind, pulling him away from reality; a wave of shivers being sent down his spin; that same numbing sensation soon making itself more known as it began to invade the rest of his body. Satheair’s vision soon became a blur of reality and the haze of the world that was being manipulated throughout his head.

“There you go, Lightbearer…” the voice chimed, “Give into it… Let your pain be eased…” A soft, eerier melody began to echo throughout his head. His vision slowly faded to back, captivated by the song as it brought ease to his tormented soul. Faintly, he could still hear Norilain yelling at him, trying as best she could to snap him into her world, but Satheair was too far gone, lost in the mesmerizing tone of this mystical woman. Satheair felt his body being lifted from the ground in which he stood. He was unsure if it was just a side effect—part of the illusions. In reality, it was indeed Norilain that who had managed to lift the man onto her back. It was a wonder how the smaller woman managed to lift a full grown man, let alone one in a full set of plate, soon breaking into a sprint. While the poor woman tried her damn near hardest to carry Satheair back down the road towards Silvermoon, the two barely making it a quarter of the way as she quickly became fatigued from the sheer weight of him. As Norilain began to fall, so did Satheair. His nearly limp figure collided rather roughly with the ground, rolling a few feet as his Obsidian plate gear rattled against the cobblestone walkway, before promptly lying on his back.

While trapped within his own head, Satheair still felt the jolt of his body being tossed around, though there was nothing he could do about it. Satheair was enraptured by the sound of that melody that continued to echo through this ears; intoxicating and addictive, he’d mindlessly began his attempt to hum along to it—Only to feel a slight throbbing against his chest… Then that sharp sting returned to the side of his face—and there it was again. The same pain erupted from the other cheek now. There was a certain kind of intensity being pulled to sway him in this fashion, but once Satheair had begun to wrestle his mind back into his own consciousness, those unseen tendrils did not try to intensify the union. Why do such a thing? Slowly, gently, Satheair felt the strange power recede as if leaving a lover only half spent, with no foundation of relief. His senses soon returned to him; his body’s natural heat returning once more. However, that tune… The melody never faded from his mind even as it’d fade to black, “We will meet soon enough, Lightbearer…”

His eyes flashed open just as Norilain’s hand roughly connected with his face again. Cursing, he’d growl quietly at the sting before his fel coloured eyes glared at her own, “What the fel, Nor–” He paused, blinking as he saw the expression upon her face. What had he done to cause that worried look that sat within her eyes..? Slowly, Satheair lowered his head into his hands, “…Nori, I’m sorry…”

He felt her hand slowly and gently stroke through his hair, “You have no reason to be sorry, Satheair.” Sighing lightly, her hand now slipped beneath his chin. Guiding his gaze up, she would try to make it so she could lock her gaze with his own, “If anything, I am sorry… I’ve been everything to you but a friend. I apologize… I’m so sick of arguing with, and… Aelirin too. I just want to smile for once, damn it.” Satheair watched as she bit down upon her bottom lip, turning her gaze from him, “I’m also sorry that you went through all that you did. You’re so brave, to go through all that for your home and friends… Very strong.”

As his eyes met hers, he was unable to hide that veil of sadness and confusion in his eyes. Even the expression that he held on his face told of the emotional pain that he was in, yet he never shed a single tear, “Don’t pity me, Nori… I don’t need praise—I don’t need to be told that I was ‘brave’ or ‘strong’, nothing is going to change what happened, so no need to be sorry for it.” He too would turn his gaze from her, “My attitude hasn’t made things easier, either… For making everyone get along. You know Aelirin has a good heart, but I think my recent influence is what has caused him to be so… Unthoughtful and defying lately.”

Although he hadn’t shed a tear, he felt her thumb wipe at them to show that she was aware of the pain he was in, “I do not pity you, Satheair. We all make our choices, leading to things that happen to us. You made yours and your outcome wasn’t so… Favored.” She leaned in a moment, her lips placing a tender kiss upon his forehead. “As for your attitude… Well, it’s an attitude. You are not alone in having one; I’ve not been so innocent myself. As for Aelirin, I’m unsure of what to do with him. He’s been very different these past couple of days, though I’m sure he’ll return to being my loving brother once he’s over whatever this is. Do not blame yourself, Satheair.”

Satheair lowered his head until his forehead grazed against her own; holding it there. He couldn’t help but smile as he felt her cold hands slip behind his ears to the back of his head; her fingers slipping into his long, red locks before massaging at his scalp lightly, “You’re our oldest friend that still draws breath. You mean more to the me than you may ever know, or that you will ever allow me to show you—And you a brother to Aelirin, one that he has always wanted but never had. Neither of us were the same after you left. My heart was broken and he was lost. In truth, it was something that neither of us had ever gotten over, not even after almost twenty years had passed. If I had it my way, I would never allow for you to leave my side again.”

Satheair smiled as her soft tone spoken gently into his ears. His eyes remained closed while a small sigh of relief came from him; his breathing slowing considerably in this new found calming state that her touch had brought on, “Norilain… You and Aelirin are and always will be my family. You two have always greeted me with open arms for as long as I can remember—even after pulling off antics such as my disappearance—and I may not express it, but my love for the two of you is strong, and I am grateful to call you both my friends.” His head gently nudged at her own as a sign of affection, “I’ll never again leave your sides, I promise you this.”

The two continued to sit in that same spot for the next few hours, laughing and enjoying the others company as they reminisced, simply catching up after all those years. After this night, both parties had found a new respect for the other… And perhaps even something more.



Apologies to anyone I RP with, I’ve been out of touch for a bit. I have had a busy schedule for the past few weeks and it’s my birthday this Friday so this week is very hectic too. So I’m sorry but I will be back next week, in the meantime this trains wireless is killing me inside so I’m gonna start posting once I get a better connection.

morningstrider asked:

Five things that irritate Asharri the most!

1. Being forced into formal events and having to wear a dress. 

2. Politics and the chaos that surrounds it. A comfortable distance from this is her best bet in not losing her mind.

3. Individuals giving her advice that she does not ask for nor feels that she needs.

4. Being unrecognized for anything she has poured blood, sweat, and tears into. 

5. Overly flirtatious men who will not take no for an answer. Do I hear a dick punch ready to be fired?

Thinking: After Hours.

(Check out part one here: bitchofthelight​ !)

The dimlight of the moon and the occasional lantern were all that lit up the cobblestone walkway that weaved through the Eversong Woods. With his gaze lowered to the ground, Satheair continued on down this very road after both Norilain and Syllandra had agreed – without much debate, to his surprise—to give him the space he so desired.  

As he made his way deeper into the heart of the forest Satheair soon came to rest at one of the larger enchanted trees of The Living Wood; its forever golden leaves still visibly present even in the darkness. This wasn’t the first time he had come to this very spot before; it was his getaway from the rest of the world and very rarely did he come across anyone else, with the exception of the a occasional Lynx that chose to stroll by.

Sitting atop the largest root of the tree, Satheair’s gaze shifted from his palms outward, overlooking the river that sat across from him. What have I done… He thought to himself. You’re not a monster, Satheair. That same line kept echoing throughout his mind. Norilain had been the one to say those words to him only a short while ago after he nearly snapped the neck of a fellow Raven, his friend. Why? All because she was trying to help him overcome his fears–the nightmares that tortured him daily, but the added slap to the side of his face is what turned him.  Who are you trying to kid, you’re no better than those in your dreams. You –are- a monster.

Sighing, he removed his plate gauntlets from his hands, which soon covered his face; his head spinning from the thoughts that flowed through his mind. She deserved it, he kept telling himself. You are a general and she had no right to lay a hand on you. She had it coming… She forced you to relive your past, even after you said no… Satheair felt something warm running down the side of his cheek. What was that? Removing both hands from his face, he looked up at the sky, an expression of confusion crossed over his face as there wasn’t a single cloud present.  There it was again, that strange warming sensation of a substance falling against his cheek. Blinking a few times, he could feel his eyes start to burn. Tongue tracing over his lips, he was quick to taste that salty tang. It was then that Satheair realized what had caused that. A tear..?

It had been nearly two decades since he had last shed a tear, and suddenly, here he was. Why was he so upset over such a thing? He already knew the answer to that. He knew what he did was wrong. He knew he was to blame. I could have killed her… If Norilain hadn’t shown up when she did, the Farstrider would have taken her last breath that evening.

Raising his head, he looked at the river. The river itself was smaller than most, splitting into a fork at its center, with the longer path stretching towards the city of Silvermoon, while the other moved and twisted in the opposite direction; the water slowly trickled around the rocks along its shore line. It came time to make the same decision he had made all those years ago. Do I return them and continue to be a potential threat to those I care for… Or do I run away from my fears—my problems—like I did before..? And at that moment, it was clear to him what the right choice was…

Satheair blinked as he noticed the door to his home was opened ever so slightly. Cautiously, he slowly opened it only to find the scattered mess of the intruders clothing across his floor. Kneeling down, he’d pick up a single piece of the clothing; a checkered red shirt that was familiar to him. Looking ahead, he noticed that the trail of clothing led to the upper level of the building. He couldn’t help it as a small smile painted itself across his lips while a quiet chuckle came from him.

As he climbed the small ramp to the top of his living quarters; picking up the articles of clothing that were in his path. His smile widened as his intruder’s identity was revealed. There sat Norilain with her back propped up against the side of his bed. Quietly, he made his way over to her sleeping form. Blinking as he looked down at her, he soon noticed the tabard that graced her body. Looking over at his dresser, he’d notice that his Blood Knight tabard was no longer there.

Satheair couldn’t help but chuckle as his right hand snaked its way around her back while the other moved to slip under her legs; cradling her sleeping form in his arms, “You’re ridiculous… You could have slept in the bed…” Dipping his head low, he’d place a tender kiss against her cheek before placing her down on the bed. Slipping beneath the sheets beside her, Satheair would drape an arm over her before pulling the woman against his own body—pulling the sheets now over both their bodies—before he too, drifted off to sleep.


                “Look at what you’re all doing,” Leiadril spoke up abruptly, gesturing to the other adults in the room, “Who is to say what Kally really wants in life? I understand that she is our most valued treasure but to enforce this now? It’s ridiculous! She is still young as Aly has stated. Let her live her life and if she so chooses on her own choice to walk down the path of what we are pushing on her, then so be it. It’s her life, her wishes. She is young and you have no right to say what is to become of her.”

                Luccicare bristled subtly at the mage’s words, her eyes shifting from the brooding warrior a short distance from herself. “This is her choice in life. She shouldn’t need to worry about it for now,” she continued, a disappointed gaze cast over them, “When the time comes, she will make amends and move on.”

                It was incredulous to her that they had gotten to this point in the conversation. The fact that they were having it at all was something in itself as well. The paladin wondered if either of the two knew anything about the girl they were speaking on any more than she did. Even she did not know enough to be making the comments that she had but with the way she herself had been raised as a child, the paladin felt she had the most right to speak her peace on the matter. Turning her gaze to Kalastra, she made to clarify for not only them, but her as well.

                “Kally, when we first spoke, you told me that you wanted to be a Knight like myself,” she noted as she recalled their first encounter in the city, “Does that still hold true?”

                The girl looked up at her. She seemed to be coming out of her thoughts as her response drifted through the link. Yes, but more than a knight, she answered, her eyes drifting to Alyadria, I desire to be trained in combat and study.

                She could not help but smile at her response. A flash of pride shimmered in her eyes, though she would not show any sort of observable endearment for the girl. To Luccicare, Kalastra was not only talented, but brilliant for such a young age. With a soft nod, she continued. “And when we visited Winterspring, you were eager to learn how I used my talents,” she presses on, “Similarly, you seemed excited to know how to focus holy energy into a weapon.”

                Another smile, softer this time, graced her features as the girl nodded in response. She looked to the mage with hopes that this would reassure her that no one had nor would intentionally pressure Kalastra into doing anything she did not desire. She was training already, albeit it slowly, but the question was not if she should train at all, but how much would be too much for her. On this front, she disagreed with Revalor but then, it seemed that most did, so she was not concerned with convincing him otherwise.

                “I had assumed from your demeanor that this was something you enjoyed and were interested in learning more on. If I have misunderstood that or rushed you, I apologize,” she went on, “However, if you are as eager as you appear to be in your training, I am sure we will all be more than happy to provide it to you, along with the knowledge that we have of this world, at a pace that is comfortable for you but without restraint.”

                Luccicare chose her words carefully, wanting to ensure that Kalastra felt that she not only had an option, but that, regardless of her choice, she would not be a liability as she had suggested before. It was the last thing she wanted her to think she was. The girl lifted her hand and her voice rang through their thoughts once more.

                I’ll think about it.

                The paladin was surprised with her response but nodded slowly. Perhaps her reason for wanting her to reassure the others was a bit selfish. She had enjoyed her time sharing her skills with Kalastra. It always brought a smile to her face seeing the girl make leaps and bounds from the tower at her calls for training and a great delight to see her pick up spells with such ease. Maybe it simply made her feel like an effective teacher.

                Either way, she would respect her wishes. For now, at least, Luccicare would bow out and await her approach instead.


((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLxv_g_zQkY ))

Entrails. Gore. Streams of blood seeping into the vibrantly yellow grass and plains of Kun-Lai, threatening to forever stain it to red, a constant memory of the battle to come, and the battle that had already taken place in this forsaken, Celestial-forgotten area. Screams of fear, despair and utter agony – pain, torture and torment.

She couldn’t believe what she saw upon entering the frontal village, Westwind Rest, after making her trek from the Tian Monastery, deep within the Jade Forest, through to Veiled Stair, and to the far side of a small passage exiting into the Kun-Lai summit. She had first stopped at Binan Village, the supposed next target of the Yaungol raids. Her calm demeanour was immediately set into action upon entering Binan Village. The Villagers, innocent farmers and brewers from all walks of life reduced to simple babbling messes. They rushed Jiwen in a state of panic and anxiety, crying with their hearts out, pleading for her to save their families, their homes, their lives. Many of them were already carrying their dead to bury in the ground – however, many of them could only toss the bodies in a fire made in the centre of town, for there were no more places to bury the dead, no time. Forced to watch as their loved ones, cubs, family members burned away to ash without a proper burial or speech. This was not the Pandaren way.

Even the hope-inducing beacon of light for a monk was not capable of settling the constant cloud of sheer despair and sadness around the village, plaguing the minds of those once living in child-like negligence without a care in the world. She aided where she could as her will and mission states it, to help all those that would accept it, no matter the cost of your own. Be altruistic, be loving, respect all life. These words, though powerful, were not enough to ready her for the sights to come. Entering the wooden structure draped with a large white sheet, a red-cross painted on the surface, clearly indicating a first-aid station, she walked lightly on the pads of her paws. Her ears dropped tenfold as they caught the sounds of the groans and moans of injured Pandaren, the smell of death entering her black nose, causing her to shudder back in disgust.

Remain strong, Jiwen. Chi-Ji will light your way through these times. Believe in your Celestial, and he will always be at your side.

A Pandaren male was her first task, by her own judgement of triage. A Pandaren nurse was already bent over and attempting to tend to whatever wound he had, and Jiwen judged by the look of his face, his dying fur and the whitening of his eyes that he did not have much time left. The monk stepped forward and made her way over to the male, and finally spotted the severity of his mortal wound. The nurse had been covering the lower half, or what used to be his lower half. Severed at the hip, he was but a torso grasping onto the final moments of life pain-stricken eyes filled to the brim with tears of regret and angst. Bending down at the knee, she placed a gently paw onto the top of his head, placing him into her lap as gently and delicate as she possibly could. “Greeti–.” Her voice was stopped and immediately replaced by the man’s final words, stuttered and lacking of any breath or strength within them. “I don’t want to die.” He made eye contact with the monk for a brief second before his body succumbed to it’s wound and passed into the afterlife. Lowering her paw, she draped it across his eyelids and shut them for the last time, bending at the hip to place her ursine lips at the tip of his forehead and kiss him – a final guidance into the afterlife, into heaven, into peaceful living.

Remain strong. Be what you believe in.

The lumbering Pandaren shifted her focus around, looking for another being that could possibly use her aid and healing skills. She now spots a newborn cub tucked away in the corner of the wooden shack. She approached, but her nose told her otherwise. It was not being tended to for a reason. Wincing, her resolve breaking for a moment as she herself feels a tear wallowing up in her eye.

Remain strong.

She wipes it away, and gazes around the room once again for -anyone- that she could help, but in the end it was futile. The nurses were nothing more than simple gatekeepers into the next plane of existence. She could not remain here, as much as it welled within her soul and being and tormented her, she could not remain where her efforts were wasted. The Monk of Chi-Ji went to each suffering patient and prayed for all of them, individually blessing them and taking whatever pain she could away from their dying bodies, but she could not stay, she had to aid elsewhere, and regrettably, she exited the building. Snapping her claws together, she called her one mount to her side, a large crane of green and whites, standing brilliantly tall, elegant and groomed. It was not a fitting look for this area of death.

Climbing onto the back of the Crane’s body, she rode for the next outpost, Westwind Rest. However, it was not long before her amber coloured eyes caught the remains of what the village had become – nothing more than simple charred ash and fragments of what it once was before. She stared for what seemed like hours, many hours, before she came to her senses. This would be the mistake that Jiwen has trained all of her life to never commit. She felt a seering pain in the side of her stomach,a bellowing cry of pain echoing out through the fields of Kun-Lai. A spear had entered her body and punctured her inner-organs, remaining in her flesh, her very essence. The crane entered a frenzied state of panic and shuffled the monk off of it’s back and ran for it’s own safety , leaving the monk impaled on the floor. She attempts to snap back into action, quickly bringing herself up to her paws, gripping the spear at the base of the metal-head and snapped the wooden handle off, leaving the tip in. Blood began to pool out of her mercilessly, but there was nothing she could do for it at this time.

Remain strong.

The monk turned her head around and quickly took notice of her environment. Groups and groups of Yaungol began to swarm her in all directions, encompassing her in a full circle that she had no possible way of escaping without fighting. She bided her time, but she knew she had to make a move before she inevitably passed out from her wound. Her mind raced at the constant possibilities and openings that could happen to get her out of this certain death wish, frantically looking around for a way out. The Yaungol began to press the circle in and tighten it around her, those that did not fit pressed inward and began to attack her. In singular combat, they had no chance. The Tauren-like fighter lunged at her with a Pandaren-made sword, obviously stolen off a Shado-Pan or a defender of a village on a previous raid, aimed straight for her centre-mass. She side-stepped it quickly and led with a punch to the side of the head, laced with lingering invocations of the Celestials themselves. Brief flickers of red surrounded her paw as it pressed forward and connected with the targeted area, a sickening rip of flesh as the Yaungol was half-decapitated, tendrils of flesh straining and tearing off from the pure force behind the punch. He immediately dropped, and did not stand up, adding to the collection of blood that stained the field, the souls floating through the air without their bodies.

Two approachers. She raised her paws to the sky and called upon the life-force within her, green mists creating a physical object in her palms. A sheath, for a Shaktani warblade, specifically crafted by Pandaren blacksmiths, now a physical manifestation of her will and strength. She quickly places it at her hip and grips onto the handle, drawing the large, long and thin blade from it’s holster. As the enemies approach her and swing violently in large matching arcs, she covered herself in a large, pulsing green bubble of chi, causing the blades to strike off and rebound elsewhere. The monk quickly tumbled forward with her advantage of the rebound, stabbing her blade into the core of the left Yaungol, drawing the blade down and down throughout his body, until it exited from between his hips – the only thing keeping him from slitting into two was his head. Jiwen did not stop her assault there, leading with a headbutt to disorient the almost retaliating Yaungol, causing him to stagger back, before swinging the blade at the now exposed throat of him as he rebounds and staggers for his balance. She slits it in one simple cut, a splatter of blood covering the front of her leather armour from the spewing of his severed veins and arteries,

She made the effort to sheathe the weapon again and prepare for the next onslaught of her assaulters, but it was made in vain. They returned back to their first weapon of choice, spears, and lined it up in her circle of battle. There was no escape. She avoided what she could, but spear after spear entered her body – one, through the centre of her stomach completely through to her back, another on the right side of her arm, cracking and shattering the muscles and bones beneath. The last one, entered just over her left breast, crashing through her ribs and straight through to puncture her lung. She fell immediately to the ground after such grievous, life-ending injuries, and did not stand up. Her breathing faltered from her punctured, perforated lung, and blood was now unhindered as it poured and escaped the confines of her body.


“Go, now.” The quiet whispering of the Shado-Master could only be heard from those around her. As if straight on cue, the Wu-Kao rogues went into action and decimated the lone group of Yaungol. Armed with toxic and poisonous venoms on their blades, they only had to stab once and allow the hemotoxic, alchemic liquids stop the blood of their enemies before they truimphed over them with ease. No injuries were sustained by the Shado-Pan as one by one, without any fight, the Yaungol fell over dead. The Shado-Master scoffed and spoke out arrogantly to the gathering of the group, “Pitiful. The Steelpaw thinks they can send only one of their own to aid. We need an -army-, not a lone monk. Pick her up, bring her back to the Monastery. Yalia, make sure she does not succumb to her wounds – though I do not think she will survive such pain.” All present bowed towards her and went to their tasks.

Jiwen was limp and lifeless the journey back to the Monastery.

birdkeepercie asked:

Muses prompt: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Asharri smiled, knowing this to be true. She had found Cielya to be an interesting woman with many insights to give, thus planting the bug into her head that friendship should definitely be established. Perhaps the two would forge something to be respected by many.


Sorry it is so choppy. The program I use to record it makes my wow lag hardcore. But, enjoy anyways :D

Who is Satheair Bloodshadow?

{Basic Information}

Name: Satheair Bloodshadow (Sah-th-air)

Race: Sin'dorei.

Gender: Male

SpokenLanguages:  Thalassian, Orcish, Darnassian, Common, Kalimdoran.

Occupation:  General/HeadMedic of the RGS, Chef, Scryer.
Criminal Record:  N/A
Drink | Smoke | Drugs:  Yes | Yes | Yes
Like[S]:   Attention, Tea (Specifically Honeymint Tea), Wine(Red), Soap.
Dislike[S]:  Farstriders, Orcs, Dirt.
Fear[S]: Needles

{Family Information}

Sibling[S]:  Brother (Deceased)
Parent[S]:  Deceased
Children:  None
Pets[S]: Sunfire Kaliri, Lil’ Naaru (?)

{Relationship Information}

Sexual Preference:  Female
Relationship Status: Single

Personality: At first, Satheair Bloodshadow would likely come off as being rather blunt, arrogant and defying to those just meeting him, though once acquainted with him, one would soon learn that overall, he is a friendly being—That was, until certain events occurred, changing the overall  manner of this man.For years, many looked up to him. He still has his moments of fondness and being friendly if he wanted to be, though most would just considered him your average neighborhood asshole, usually only thinking for himself. Still walking with that stride of confidence and good posture, there was something secretive about him; always being careful and cautious with how much information he told strangers. Satheair could easily win over the trust of those around him if the current situation called for it, but behind that sly smile and hidden within his eyes lurked something dubious and eerie.

{Physical Description)

Face: Strong, masculine features befitting a warrior could be seen all over this Elf. His face is longer than average, though still allows his bone structure to be a bit broad. His forehead was an average size, cut off into well shaped, deep brows. His brows were knitted tightly together, keeping his eyes closer to the bridge of his nose. Scanning down passed his brows one would come across his eyes. Sath’s eyes are narrow and daring, glowing with that same eerie, fel green shine that the rest of his kin shared. Between those eyes sat his averaged sized nose; a slight curve sat in its center from an old break. His nostrils were nothing special, as they were just a normal, narrow shape. The man’s jaw was chiseled from stone, strong and broad, making for a handsome structure. That strong jaw would lead to an equally strong chin, though it was not so big that it protruded itself out from the rest of his face. His complexion was smooth, not unlike his lips, which were a light shade of pink.

Hair: For the most part, Sath always made sure to keep himself well groomed. The hair that sat atop his head was deep shade of red, but upon closer inspection one would be able to tell that it had been dyed from its original colour; its length reaching down to his mid-back while his bangs were styled to the left. Along with its length, his hair was also fairly thick, holding a glossy texture to it.

A small goatee and a soul patch rested against his chin; both seemed to have been dyed that same deep red.

Body: The sharp features of Satheair’s face were merely a reflection of his entire body’s structure. Standing at roughly six foot, three inches and weighing around one hundred and ninety-two pounds, Satheair was your average sized Sin’dorei. With that being said however, there was something about this man that often put those foreign to him in an uneasy state. Perhaps it was the armor he wore, or the way he carried him, but whatever it was, it was unknown to Satheair. Hidden beneath the bulk of the Obsidian plated armor that shielded his form sat the Elf’s well-toned figure. As a direct result of having low body fat, visibly defined muscles lined his form. One would say that he is similar to being ‘ripped’, only not to such an extent.

Scars: With the amount of scars that covered this man’s body, it was quite obvious that he had seen a great many battles. Due to the severity of many of them, it might come as a shock that he stood in front of you, breathing. While only a few small, minor ones could be seen across his face—aside from the one along the front of his neck— the rest of his body was a different story. The remnants of once deep wounds covered the Elf’s chest. Slashing every which way across his figure, some a lot larger in size than the others, it was hard to tell what was used to cause these markings, though it was obvious they were made with a blade of sorts. On top of those, there were also traces of acid burns across the entirety of his body. Moving around to his backside, the scars that covered his back were longer than those that were on his front. Many of these looked to start just below his shoulders and reached down to his waist line, crossing every which way. For those that have seen or experienced such a thing, they would be able to tell that these were likely caused by a leather whip from multiple lashings while more of those same acidic burns could be found as well.


Armor: Overlapping layers of Obsidium plate graced this Elf’s figure; a design made from Truesilver lined its outer edges. A ruby gem sat in the center of each of his plated gloves, as well as one on each thigh and in the center of each spaulder; a larger blade like object stuck upward out of both shoulder pads and out of the helmet that he would occasionally be seen wearing, along with a tuft of black fur on its back, the mask of the helmet covering the entirety of his face.

A long black silken cloak is draped over his shoulders; a crimson design has been embroidered along its outer edge.

Weapon(s): To go along with his Obsidium armor, a matching sword and shield sat against his body. The sword, dark in colour, had a uniquely designed hilt; the Obsidian metal twisting and curving every which way. The blade itself was larger than the average blade–four small spikes jutted out from its sharp edges—and made from a different metal than the rest of the sword. The blade was made from the metal known as Saronite; its edges sharp to the point due to the folding of the Saronite. The blade itself constantly pulsed with a light mist, purple in colour.

The shield that sat against his back was made of, like everything else, Obsidium. Finely crafted, it held a unique shape to it. While it was circular for the most part, half of the shields outer edge had been shaped into a curled set of blade like spikes. The Horde crest was engraved into the shields center, surrounded by another engraved design of swirls that gave off a light hue of red; a small piece of crimson cloth hung from its bottom.

Casual: Satheair would usually be seen in his bulky armor, but on rare occasions he would instead be seen wearing a doublet made from Runecloth that fitted to the shape of the Elf’s body; dyed to be black in colour, a crimson embroidering lined the neck, down through the center and around the hem. Black Runecloth pants covered his legs; matching crimson coloured legwraps of the finest quality—woven together—were also covered with a uniquely beneficial amount of leather to add to the ability to walk with comfort and ease. Occasionally, he would be seen wearing his RGS tabard.


Accessories: A black stud earing sat neatly in either lobe of his ears; three golden hoops were pierced halfway up his right ear, while two more golden hoops were pierced through the cartilage at the top of his left ear.

Hanging around his neck is a thin, twisted gold chain; a golden pendant depicting the crest of the Scryers hung from it.

A large golden band made its home on the middle finger of his right hand. On its underside, the following text was engraved: “O no anu dath tal il’amare do ni… Nor O no dath O do’rah do ishura.”

Motto: “Give no mercy. Never be afraid to strike down and destroy your enemies, for they would not hesitate to kill you.”


#1 Wrist: A black tribal tattoo that wrapped around his right wrist. (http://tinyurl.com/m22dxvg)

#2 Arm: Black tribal sleeve tattoo on his left arm. (http://tinyurl.com/kgmh9mc)

#3 Face: Fairly small, but still noticeable, this final black tribal sat against the left side of his face, the tips reaching around the side of his face to the middle of his eye, while the rest flowed below it and more onto his cheek. (http://tinyurl.com/qdmj6ww)