Alayne's Story
by Alayne | 24/09/2007 22:32:35 OOC: I've been dabbling with the idea of writing a story for my characters for a while now. I don't play on any RP realms but I do enjoy good role-playing. I've been working on this particular story for a few days now and have just finished the "Prologue" to my satisfaction. It's not a particularly happy story; indeed, why would a perfectly happy person chose the path of a warlock? If you have any thoughts or comments on how I can improve my writing skills, I'd be very appreciative. :) As I sit in my cold, dank room here in Undercity while awaiting my audience with the Banshee Queen, I have time to reflect and record my thoughts in my journal. Our people have lost much in the past years. While our history is known in broad outlines amongst all the educated, it is an…impersonal account. History and historians may never truly understand why we have chosen as we have. To aid in fostering such understanding amongst future generations, I put my quill to paper and record my thoughts, my deeds, and my hopes for that distant future… From the personal journals of Alayne, a blood elf warlock The air of Eversong Woods is clear now. The sun shines down through the vibrant green leaves of living trees. I see no sign of the devastation wrought by the Scourge invasion, save for the Dead Scar that cuts through from Deatholme to the remains of the Sunwell. Or, at least, that is what I tell myself as I look around my former homeland. I see no sign of the destruction. But that is a lie. The signs are all around me and within me. How well I recall the preternatural silence that hung thick in the air as our armies advanced to meet the Scourge. Glancing around, I can see my father… “Are you well?” one of my fellow recruits asked, shaking me from my reverie. “I will be,” I replied with a sigh, “it’s just…” “I understand,” he said. “Take all the time you need.” With that, he departed, striding on ahead to the spire. I remain in the shadows cast by the trees, remembering the shades of my past. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ &l dquo;Take her and leave, for the love of all that is holy, Miris!” my father urged my mother in a hushed whisper. From the other room, I listened in on their conversation. My father had just returned from the war the night before. I was hoping to see him; to show him how far I’d advanced in my studies. To go down to the Park and play with him and my mother. When I tried to convince them to let us go for a picnic at breakfast, Papa smiled and sent me into the other room, saying he needed to talk about it with Mama. Since they were talking about my idea, I felt no guilt at eavesdropping on them. But why was Papa telling Mama to take me and leave? Did he not like us anymore? A sob escaped my throat before I could swallow it, betraying me to them. “Come in here, Alayne,” Mama said, giving my father a tired look. “What’s the matter?” she asked me, her expression telling me that she knew the answer. “Why do you want us to go away, Papa?” I asked with a wail. “Don’t you want us to stay with you? I’ll be good if you’ll let me stay! I’m sorry!” the words came out in a torrent of tears and sobs. I felt strong hands lift me up from the ground and strong arms grasp me close in a hug as I cried my fear and misery out on my father’s chest. “There, there, Alayne,” he said softly in a soothing tone, “I’m not mad at you. I don’t want you to leave me; I want you to leave here for a little while to go someplace safer.” I lifted my head to look him in the eye. Still snuffling and hiccupping, I tried to understand this new twist about leaving home to go someplace safe. “Is home not safe?” I asked, confused. Then, seeing the flicker in his eyes, I knew. “The war’s coming here, isn’t it, Papa?” With a sigh, he nodded. “But, Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner will be calling out the entire army of Quel’Thalas,” he reassured me. “You know Lady Sylvanas, the great Alleria Windrunner’s sister, don’t you, Alayne?” “Lady Sylvanas will be fighting in the war?” I said, awed. “Those Urges will never beat Sylvanas! She’s the greatest fighter ever! I told her I wanted to be just like her when I grow up. She came and talked at my school last month,” I babbled. I’d always admired Sylvanas and Alleria. They were my heroes. “Exactly,” Papa said, smiling, after my praises trailed off. “But, Sylvanas needs everyone who’s not in the army to go somewhere else for a while. She doesn’t want there to be any chance that you or anyone else will get hurt. So, she asked us to tell you to leave when we got the chance to come back here and visit,” he said, shooting a meaningful glance at my mother. “Our friends, the humans, said we could stay with them for a little while.” “Will you be coming too, Papa?” “Not right away, sweetheart. I have to stay here and help Sylvanas fight those nasty ‘Urges.’ Once we’re done, I’ll come to you and Mama and we’ll come back here. I promise. Now, why don’t you go down to the Park and play a little bit? Mama and I will be down later and we’ll have a picnic.” “Thanks, Papa!” I squealed with delight. After squeezing his neck in a happy hug, I squirmed out of his arms and raced down to the Park to pick out the best spot for a picnic. As I ran down the road, I glanced back over my shoulder. Papa stood in the doorway of our house, a sad smile on his face, as if he knew that this would be the last time he’d see home and family. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was raining the day that word came of my father. We’d suspected for years, my mother and I, when he never came to Menethil. News of the destruction of Quel’Thalas reached us weeks after we felt what must have been the destruction of the Sunwell. As a child, no older than seven, I did not understand the tearing sensation that seemed to rip through my soul. All I knew was that I hungered for something that I never realized was there until it wasn’t there anymore. My mother said that the cravings would pass; that we would find a way to control them. Her predictions have come true, albeit in a horrifying manner… Weeks later, we heard tales of the battle where Sylvanas had fallen to the traitorous prince Arthas, the leader of the Scourge. Had fallen and then been brought back, enslaved in an unnatural unlife as a banshee. My mother paled when she heard this news and I screamed at the soldier that he was wrong; he was lying. Lady Sylvanas would never lose to the Scourge! For weeks afterwards, I wept and prayed that someone would come and tell us that the returning soldiers were wrong. I turned my eyes to the heavens and begged the stars to let Sylvanas herself come with my papa to Menethil and prove these humans wrong. But, if my prayers were heard, they went unanswered. Unanswered for ten long years. My mother and I were preparing supper when we heard a knock at the door. Dusting the flour off her hands, Mama went to answer it. When she didn’t return immediately, I put down the potatoes I’d been cutting and walked into the main room to see who it was. My father’s captain stood in the entryway, a sympathetic look on his face. My mother, her back facing him, her eyes wide with disbelief, her arms locked around herself, stood rocking, chewing her thumb knuckle, staring at the floor. Captain Remar glanced over at me, his expression softening. “Little Alayne,” he said sadly. “You’ve grown up these past few years.” “Mama?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry. My mother didn’t seem to hear me. Casting a confused and frightened look at the captain, I walked over to my mother. “Mama?” “He’s dead!” she screamed. “He’s not coming for us!” With that, she collapsed to the floor, tearing at her face and sobbing. Horror-stricken, I stared at the captain for answers. “I am so sorry,” he said, kneeling down to pick my mother up from the floor. “Sergeant Tal’ar fell to the Scourge while defending the Sunwell. From the few survivors who managed to flee, he fought bravely to the end, taking many of the enemy with him.” I nodded, bewildered. Motioning for him to carry my mother to her room, I felt numb, remembering that he had promised to return to us… [Story continues in next post] |
by Slorkuz | 28/04/2008 14:17:28 This is some lengthy story you have going here, Alayne. I have taken the liberty of pre-emptively extending the post count limit on this thread in order to keep it going. Keep up the good work! :) 1013 |
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