[Horde] Chapter Five: Session Seventy-Eight

Appearing Characters: Aluriel, Anarys Lunastre, Arthak Saurfang, Aurore Astravar, Azeroth, Bru'kan, Coryn Stelleris, Elisande, Etraeus, Ly'leth Lunastre, Melandrus, Nyxxa Murkthorn, Randeth Duskmere, Rak'Symma, Reydan Duskmere, Seria, Sol'chi, Vaerux, Vandros, Zar'Kaa

December 24th

As Symma and Arthak gazed upon the manifestation of Azeroth, Symma told her that she had brought someone to meet her, as he had been looking out for her. Arthak corrected they had met before, and there was a warmth of recognition that washed over them.

Symma explained that she had spoken to Elune and she had felt there was room enough in the world for Arthak and his people, and she wanted to see if Azeroth felt the same. Another surge of warmth washed over them at the mention of the the White Lady, and they saw various scenes across the surface of Azeroth, from the mountains to the seas, and the cities to the wilds, and there was a feeling of welcome and warmth in all of them.

They felt the impression of “home”.

Symma’s brow went up in surprise.

There was a warmth at first, but there was a hesitation to it. A fear. In the light of the flickering emanation, they saw a great warrior. He was a giant, his limbs wrought of gold and his hair of sunlight. A great wound bled on his side, streaking across the sky. Symma saw the same, but to her he appeared in the image of a great eagle or phoenix that bled a rainbow of twilit blood.

There was a fear because others had done the same, and still do the same, but they had been hurt because of it.

There was warmth and recognition, and the focus turned towards Arthak, seeking his own answer.

There was still hesitation, but there was an affirmation of thanks, and a song played through his heart.

The emanation broke into a flock of birds, and one bird of pure light landed on Symma’s talon.

There were a thousand voices. A chorus of prayers offered to the sun. Some of them were in languages he didn’t know, others were in languages he did. An’she. Belore. Dozens of names in dozens of cultures. It was he who watched. He who brought the light. He who cast his eyes upon her. There was warmth, and love, and respect. He was family.

She rippled in recognition, but there was a fire. She did not simply wish to be protected and sacrificed for. Her power radiated through them. She was many things, but she was also the Earth Mother. And a fragment of her power was also in Arthak, something deep and beyond even what she knew. But the earth was a great and deep thing.

He saw an expansive ocean, and across it he saw land and opportunity. There was an island with Darkspear architecture. There were forests, deep and ancient. Bright eyes watched from the shadows of the trees. There were tall mesas with totems the size of ancient trunks watching over caravans of shu’halo. There was room, and he already knew the guides.

He saw an orc infused with light. The light spread throughout, but then concentrated on the blade he carried.

But a question came to him, as there was a great difference between being one’s warrior, and being one’s sword. A warrior was one that could lead others into battle. A sword was one that struck down a foe.

The path Arthak chose would be for him to choose, and him alone.

They saw the sky race over miles of miles of golden lands. There were all sorts of beings. Four legged equine humanoids racing across the plains with brandished weapons. The scene faded from golden plains to lush green forests to red rock in a sun-baked canyon. There was a lot of room. There were people abundant, but also places abundant.

Symma shrugged.

Symma looked back at the emanation of Azeroth and she asked what she needed to be protected from. And the light of the World-Soul darkened as emerald lightning crashed across the darkness. There was no singular answer, just pain and fear of the unknown. It was anger and confusion, because she was not fighting for anything more than survival. She had only ever fought for survival, for her and the people that lived on her.

Symma formed a ball of lightning and loosed it at one of the shadowy tendrils that had formed, and the shadow broke apart, but then grew back, as if it was something great and incomprehensible. But the warmth returned as the light came back.

Arthak asked where he should go to find more of the path he wished to walk, and he saw a figure. It was golden, but indistinct, almost like the idea of a person. The figure smelted and poured molten radiance into a mold that spiraled down rivulets, and from the rivulets, he saw giants that stepped forth from the magma. There were some that were massive and rock-clad that rumbled through the earth, others who instead walked freely into the ocean, and still more that shaped, built, and broke. There were beings of all shapes and sizes. Arthak recognized some. There were beings that Arthak recognized as dwarves. Others were evocative of the vrykul. There were quadrupedal feline-like constructs and statuesque warriors that had an almost canine appearance. There was a machine, one that was filled with moving parts, and the parts were people. It was clear Azeroth did not know, but the people of giant descent might.

Arthak nodded.

He felt a deep gratitude. A warmth. A tenderness. A tendril of scintillating radiance reached out to each of them, and enveloped them in its warmth. For the briefest moment, they swore they saw something inside the soul. Something curled up. Like a slumbering figure.

Arthak and Symma awoke to a sunset. Arthak pulled out a cigar with an unusually tender expression on his face as he hummed a lullaby to himself.

Symma was blushing, as she had seen An’she in a manifested form other than as a giant orb in the sky.

Meanwhile, Zar’Kaa had been working at the clinic he had set up and was using it to spread rumors about Coryn Stelleris to help further the black stain on House Stelleris’s chance at the election.

December 25th

Symma asked Anarys if they wanted to be at the election to see how things panned out, and Anarys hesitantly agreed that they felt like they should support their sister. They went to talk to Ly’leth, who was momentarily shocked out of her discussion with Arthak to see Anarys out of their room.

Anarys explained what they wanted to do, and Ly’leth asked if they were sure as it was just a boring meeting.

Ly’leth chuckled.

Ly’leth held out a hand, which Anarys took, and swiftly fell into a embrace of their sister as they started to cry.

Anarys was muffled into Ly’leth’s shoulder.

Ly’leth looked at Symma with a grateful expression and mouthed a “thank you”.

The group gathered around in a room to speak in private as Zar’Kaa worked to sharpen his spear.

Zar’Kaa shook his head.

Zar’Kaa nodded.

Nyxxa shrugged.

Zar’Kaa stopped sharpening his spear and considered the notion.

Bru’kan manifested for those that could see him.

Zar’Kaa’s expression changed to quiet reflectiveness, and then dread.

Zar’Kaa frowned.

Nyxxa nodded.

Zar’Kaa sighed in relief.

They headed out to the meeting place for the election, and noble houses from all over the city were already arriving. At the center of the gathering there was an archmage creating an arch over the Concourse of Destiny that any that entered had to walk beneath.

Overhead, a magical dome of force separated them from the night sky, offering them both privacy and protection without impeding the view.

Coryn Stelleris had arrived, and Reydan Duskmere was standing with his father. Aurore Astravar was also present with some of her guards, though her son was absent. She waved warmly at Ly’leth.

Ly’leth sighed to the group.

Symma tried not to laugh.

The sky was rather cloudy, and periodically the grinning moons were visible beneath the dark clouds. Snow had started to fall along with the rumble of thunder, and it delicately hit the dome of force and melted against the magic, before trickling down the side.

As Symma stared up toward the sky, she saw a bird’s nest nearby. Inside it was a single egg. She squinted, and the egg started to twitch, like it was ready to hatch. But it seemed like there was something holding it back. Fear, perhaps, of what it might find if it broke through the shell.

She blinked, and the egg was gone. It was replaced by a full-grown bird, proud and confident in its wings as it flew away.

Ly’leth tensed as she awaited the ceremony to begin. There was a shift in the air, and the podium started to scintillate with magic.

Strands of magic swirled around and wove an image before them, as if a tapestry wove itself before their very eyes. It materialized into a tall nightborne woman in a gilded, violet and crimson outfit. Her body was covered in arcane tattoos, and her belt pulsed with magic and hugged her form. Wing-like violet feathers draped from her mantle, and a crown with a violet jewel sat on her head.

Arcane circles scintillated around her hands, ticking like a clock.

To her sides, a half dozen other individuals appeared, also as projected images. They were some of Elisande’s other closest advisors. Ly’leth offered names for their benefit.

Melandrus was a sharp-faced nightborne man that had been elevated to First Blade after he had helped to protect Elisande during the last attempt on her life.

Aluriel was a large, brick-house of a woman and was the captain of the Duskwatch. She and Silgryn did not always see eye to eye.

Etraeus was a very narrow nightborne man that seemed to disappear beneath a large mantle and robe adorned with constellations. Flickering stars seemed to rotate in the air around him, as if parts of his robe were divination tools in and of themselves. He was the chief diviner, and he could read the stars even through the gate of Suramar.

Ly’leth shushed him, but laughed softly.

Vandros was a nightborne man with watery-blue skin and long, dark hair in a complex braid that had crystalline baubles woven into it. Ly’leth explained he was an interesting exception, as he only had the rank of his noble house, but he was not born in Suramar, but instead Nar’thalas. He had avoided the catastrophe that had destroyed it.

Nyxxa felt a pang of rage from Vaerux.

Nyxxa paled as she relayed that.

But then the fifth individual arrived.

It was Thalyssra, as she would appear were she not nightfallen. Ly’leth furrowed her brow.

Nyxxa could only see that it was an illusion, not the direct identity. But as she looked around, outside the dome were so many scrying sensors, like paparazzi.

A few other voices nodded in agreement, and Aurore seconded the appointment.

Ly’leth stepped onto a secondary platform, and she winked at the group as the platform raised her up.

Coryn Stelleris was also nominated and seconded. Elisande asked if there were any other appointments, but she was met with silence.

The First Arcanist cleared her throat, and she spoke, a perfect replication of Thalyssra.

She continued to list off her accomplishments, and she did the same with Coryn Stelleris, the scion of House Stelleris, a star of the Sanctum of Enlightenment with some of the highest test scores for several millennia. He was a gifted mind who had created spellcraft and logistics that were used by the Duskwatch in a continued effort to ensure peace and order reigned in the city.

As they were listening, they were pretty confident it wasn’t a demon. They didn’t think it could be a demon. But Symma sensed something familiar. It was like when she had faced her own face at the roost of the Crawliac. Zar’Kaa, meanwhile, felt his blood boil, as he didn’t know how or why, but he felt Sacrolash was behind it.

The assembled nobles began to speak as Elisande raised her hand and created a magical, illusory chalice. Aurore Astravar was the first to step forward as she summoned magic in her hand and cast it upward. The magic turned into a single drop and it fell into the chalice. Other nobles cast their own votes as the chalice filled higher and higher.

Elisande smiled.

Ly’leth smugly placed her hands behind her back as Coryn began to panic.

Ly’leth looked over at Coryn and smiled.

Elisande furrowed her brow.

Coryn grinned.

There were whispers of shock and confusion amongst the people. Ly’leth laughed.

She looked at Coryn.

Anarys gripped Symma’s talon tighter, and Symma saw them grit their teeth. A shell, waiting to be broken. Symma squeezed back.

Anarys looked at Symma, and a wave of determination washed over their face, and they turned toward Ly’leth and stepped forward.

Ly’leth’s eyes widened.

Ly’leth squeezed Anarys’s hand and floated back to join the rest of the group.

Stelleris and Anarys’s platforms elevated and created a flat plane of energy.

Anarys cracked their neck and reached up to take their cape off. It flew off the plane.

They dropped into casting positions. And then they burst into action, but Anarys was a split second slower. Anarys fired off a series of fire and ice blasts, but Coryn conjured a rippling burst of countermagic that erased the barrage of spells. He then released a scintillating blast of dispelling magic, clearly intent on ripping any disguise from Anarys.

But it didn’t work, and Coryn was clearly shocked.

Anarys started to conjure birds made of arcane energy that started to swoop out of portals and attack Coryn. Coryn tried to meet the assault, but he was overwhelmed, and one of the birds ripped through Stelleris’s cloak. The assault turned into an arcane barrage of missiles on both sides, and Anarys was able to slip through Coryn’s defenses.

Anarys leaped into the air, and a golden red fire erupted from their fist as it glowed with raw magic. It was like their hand was coated in sunlight. A beam of solar energy beamed straight into Stelleris.

Anarys landed, clearly shocked at the energy they had released.

Coryn took that moment to speed in with an aggressive magical assault and Anarys tried to defend themselves. The magic slammed against them, and a gust of wind erupted around them to try and buffet back at the assault.

It was magic familiar to Symma, who was tipping her head in curiosity.

Two arcane hands tried to slam down on Anarys, who pushed the hands back with magic of their own. The arcane hands clapped onto Anarys, and the crowd gasped, but then the hands started to move, and a halo of light erupted from the magic of the conjured hands, revealing Anarys, who was now floating with their hair glowing with a mixture of sun and moonlight.

They had used [Metamorphosis]

Stelleris summoned another arcane fist, but Anarys punched back and shattered it, which released a shockwave that sent Coryn spilling backwards. But as the smoke cleared, Coryn teleported and conjured a series of magic duplicates of himself.

Anarys was struck with dispelling magic, but they rolled with the assault.

Both were panting heavily, approaching the end of their ropes. Stelleris was hurling a barrage of scorching rays, which clipped Anarys, but they were not done fighting.

Anarys tried to hold up a shield to defend, but Coryn summoned a series of blades that struck into Anarys. The shield broke, and one of the arcane swords plunged itself into Anarys’s gut.

Anarys slumped down and they started to cough blood. Symma’s eyes widened, as the thought “not like this” ran through her mind. Arthak grabbed her as she started to run forward.

Anarys held the sword, and pulled it free as Coryn turned his back. In that moment, Anarys rushed forward, and Coryn attempted to protect himself with a shield as he realized Anarys wasn’t down.

And a spell blasted through him, sending him reeling across the ground. He coughed, and blood pooled beneath him. He dropped down to one knee.

Anarys looked up at Elisande.

Anarys looked down at Coryn.

Anarys took a deep breath and held their hand out at Coryn, magic pooling in their hand. However, before they could release the spell, a dozen arcane missiles slammed into Coryn Stelleris as Ly’leth stepped back onto the platform. She walked up to Anarys and put a hand on their shoulder.

Ly’leth knelt down next to Coryn, the arcane missiles perched like dragonflies on his body.

Her voice lowered into a whisper.

All the magical dragonflies exploded and sent Coryn rocketing backwards toward the edge of the platform. Ly’leth followed, and with her boot, she pushed his corpse over the edge.

She straightened her coat and looked back at Elisande.

This page was last edited on April 03, 2025, at 05:05 PM

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"It’s not weak to be afraid. Fear is not something that ails us. Fear is something that drives us to do something else. To protect ourselves and others. To make something right. I know this because I too have been afraid for a long time."