#DWC2021

[opswimsuit]

Amazing #diving #10m #sports #shorts

[daily-writing-challenge]

DAILY WRITING CHALLENGE 2021 IS HERE!

Tag @daily-writing-challenge​ so we can reblog your stories

Write the number day/challenge somewhere on your story

LIST CONTENT WARNINGS VISIBLY

Tags to use and that will be used: #dwc2021,#dayX2021, #yourtumblrurl

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Good luck and more importantly, HAVE FUN! We look forward to reading some amazing writing!

#2021prompt #dwc2021 #daily writing challlenge #daily writing challenge 2021 #Wyrmrest Accord

[jackarychaoti]

DWC2021-14 Redemption/Hollow

I was going to write a story about this topic, the words redemption and hollow only struck a few things to me. I’ve tried to think about it this entire writing challenge but the pain of what story I wanted to write, what I needed to write still cannot be put into words.

Instead of forcing out a story just to not face this head-on but not suffer in an attempt to write for a character I had to retire due to these events. I am going to give you a synopsis and that will be my writing for today.

Greer was a very loved person and character and when her player passed away a year ago, there was a very hard question about how we were going to explain the sudden disappearance of her character in the story. We all thought long and hard, mulled over it together for days until we came to a general conclusion that was widely accepted within her group of friends.

The story was thus. Hydaelyn called to Greer, as a Warrior of Light, and needed her to go to another world and another time to help others there. Though she was reluctant at first, not wanting to leave her friends, family and fiance behind, they all came to support her on the day she stepped through the Mother Crystal’s light to be teleported where the world needed her most. Her Light shone bright enough over everyone that arrived to watch and they stood there, saying their goodbyes.

Now, year after year, many of those that were there the day they watched their loved one be summoned off to help where the Crystal’s Light needed her, still gather in memorial. Not out of sadness, but unity. To remember the Light she gifted upon all of them. For a time, everyone comes to sit quietly before the bonfires, to gather their thoughts and rest.

That is what today’s story was meant to be, but it is something I will never be able to write and give it the justice it deserves. Still, I feel everyone should know it. That way at the end of the day, we never truly go Hollow.

So if you're struggling to write something or suffering a problem. Sometimes it's good to sit just down where you need to and rest. If you're missing someone, reach out to them and if you can't, honour them with thoughts of the memories you shared. Take care of yourselves, be gentle with your own soul. Save your game and rest.

@daily-writing-challenge

#DWC2021 #DWC 14 #ooc #greer

[kharrisdawndancer]

Pending

A moment was taken to check her gear, for the third time. Tinnaire glanced over her shoulder and took a deep breath before climbing onto the anima wyrm. She was stalling. Anyone could see that. Transit through the In-Between was always disconcerting and she was hardly the only one. At least the thrill of foreign magic would be almost enough to keep her mind off the fact that she was hurtling between isolated lands of the afterlife. Almost. What would happen if she fell? The physics of the afterlife were complicated. Her mind wasn’t yet meant to understand them--but anyone who knew her knew it would try: attempting to wrap sanity like gift wrap over situations the elven woman’s mind had never been meant to see at this stage. Fel-green eyes closed and her knuckles blanched as the creature lurched and shot through the anima gate. The flights didn’t take long--or maybe they did, who could tell here?--and Tinnaire seemed to shuck the sense of foreboding as she shook out her cloak. Stepping onto a parapet and getting her bearings, the elven woman looked up to the sky as more anima wyrms arrived in a steady stream, one right on the tail of the one she’d ridden. She was shuffled grumpily along by a stoneborn. Revendreth. Dreadlords might have history here, but she’d personally seen so little demon driven activity in the Shadowlands that she was lulled. Here, Tinnaire was sure she didn’t have to worry about demons. Not in the afterlife. They were tucked safely in the mortal realm and the Twisting Nether. A human man approached her and Tinnaire greeted him warmly. Composure evident and willed into being after the uneasy journey. The pair were on a mission after their brief greeting at reunion. They walked briskly toward a building, heads close to speak in low voices. Still. … Tinnaire looked over her shoulder, yet again, and Nimneth was thankful that Shadows still worked in the Shadowlands. The sayaad had veiled herself the moment she’d stepped off her own anima wyrm. But she could not stop herself from watching the woman. Soon, their own reunion would be sweet and satisfying, and filled with elven shrieks. She shivered. Soon, the demon promised herself, another kind of reunion would happen between herself and the witch. @daily-writing-challenge

(Reunion/Afterlife)

#Tinnaire #DWC2021 #day12021 #Veri's writing

[safrona-shadowsun]

Reunion

DWC 2021, Day 1: Reunion/Afterlife

She placed his own coin between his hands, smooth and simple of design, cold as death. Even the warmth of her own hands in cradling it for so long did not change the bone raven's cool exchange. It had been death-touched, much like the First of its Name, carried the tactile memory of the many restless souls it once had served to save, or put to rest. It had been a token of peace, of sanctuary for her, and she returned it now to the confused, trembling hands that could not fully understand why they grasped for her. It was a bittersweet reunion to find her love in these death lands, memory broken. Even his plead for her to 'stay' was full of trepidation, as if the plead might slip a weakness and earn a stab in the throat it came from.

"Shhh, I am here," his Harvester assured, folding his trembling fingers over the coin with a hope that it would offer its peace - her touch still seemed so much like pain in him to her, she and all her unnatural hungers. She willed her voice to a delicate softness. "Not one of these afterlives could keep me from your side."

{ For @thefirstperished and @daily-writing-challenge }

#Warcraft #Warcraft shadowlands #DWC2021 #Safwriting #The First Perished #Safrona Shadowsun #Drabble #Stories #my art #safart

[aerdendios]

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 4 - Accomplish

Read Part 1 ---> Here Part 2 

~I’m GoInG tO cReAtE a DiStRaCtIoN~

So stupid. 

So maybe he wasn’t going to get the others killed today, but he was definitely going to get himself killed. There was one very large, very angry, and very fiery behemoth waiting for them outside of this cave, and Aerden had no doubt in his mind that soon something smaller would be along that could fit into that narrow passage to finish them off.

If there was one thing that he knew about behemoths, is that they were not terribly bright and a distraction would probably work, at least long enough for the others to escape. That, and they were quite clunky, unable to move at high speeds aside from what their size allowed. He would have to rely on his speed and agility. As long as he could put distance between the large monster and himself, he could dodge those molten infernos, lead it away, lose it among the rocky cliffs, and then circle back to rejoin his group.

The other soldiers were prepping for a swift departure, two having to be carried and another needing support to be able to walk. The priestess was in the best shape among the lot, and they decided she would be on point. “We’re ready.” The young woman placed a hand on Aerden’s shoulder, blessing him with a magical shield. It wasn’t much, but it could be the difference between life and death. “Please be safe.”

“Just wait until the entrance is clear and go.” Aerden forced a smile to try to bring her some sort of comfort and assure her that he knew what he was doing. He didn’t. His hands were shaking, his heart was trying to beat out of his chest, and he couldn’t ever remember a time when his mouth had been so dry; but it was now or never.

He took his moment when the behemoth briefly glanced away, sprinting straight towards the hulking beast and leaping into a roll to slip between its legs. He was quick enough that it didn’t seem to notice: Not bright as predicted. This would give him ample time to create some distance between them before luring ---- 

*WHUMP*

Aerden hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than the behemoth, and at the end of his sliding roll he smacked right into something that obviously wasn’t ready for it either. A rookie mistake, Cazmilan would be so disappointed that he hadn’t been paying better attention to his surroundings. The Maw necromancer toppled over from the velocity and surprise of the impact, giving Aerden just enough time to make a quick survey of his surroundings: Charred behemoth still oblivious, necromancer down but would be up soon, Maw guard a few paces away that was just about to….

*SHUNK*

Aerden scrambled backwards and spread his legs just as the guard’s axe split the ground between them; it didn’t happen just in his comic books! The look he must have had on his face… He could laugh about that later when he was hopefully not dead. It was at that moment that everything seemed to slow down, and he could almost predict what was going to happen next. Caz mentioned this phenomena while the two trained together and Aerden had definitely experienced this before in times of panic: Tachypsychia, The Matrix Effect. Of course time didn’t actually slow down, it was just a trick of the brain, an illusion: A much needed one in this case.

Freeing one of his swords from its scabbard, he swept his leg towards the guard’s ankles, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. Aerden immediately lodged his sword down into the helmet slits, through whatever was inside, and out the back into the ground beneath. That was the problem with enemies from The Maw, some of them had corporeal forms within their armor and others were, literally, just angry sets of armor. The guard seemed out of commission, for now.

At least the necromancer had a physical body: A shriveled, disfigured one, but it would do. Something vaguely humanoid could possibly have humanoid-type anatomy; he had seen it in creatures all over, and even here in The Maw already. What happened to them after they died, since they were technically already dead, was beyond him. Only a split second had passed since he effectively pinned the guard to when he jabbed the side of his hand hard against where neck meets shoulder of the now-standing necromancer. Brachial stuns worked wonders on the living, and apparently also on this particular type of dead. The necromancer crumpled to the ground and Aerden’s attention immediately went to the behemoth.

All of that ruckus must have finally drawn its attention, because it was now reeling back, readying itself to lay down another fiery inferno. Yet again, Aerden jumped and rolled out of the way, shielding his face from the molten blast that completely ravaged the two Mawsworn he had just fallen. How poetic. He leapt to his feet and began sprinting the opposite way he had directed the remaining soldiers to go, and the behemoth easily took the bait.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw the others slipping out of the cave and moving swiftly, and freely, towards safety. Mission accomplished.

...To be continued...

@daily-writing-challenge​

#dwc2021 #day42021 #aerden #story #part 2 of ??

[tormaaz]

DWC Day Three: An Alternate Universe... Romance?

Enter the ruins of Azeroth: The Ashlands.

In the years following the Legions defeat, the heroes of Azeroth had forgotten about the immortal demons that still clawed at the edge of reality. Too focused on a war being fought in the realms of death, no heroes remained to stop when the forces of Tormaaz the Gargantuan broke through the barrier between realms and washed across the continents. Just like hundreds of worlds before, Tormaaz had reduced Azeroth to a pit of salt and sand.

Many of the planets people were sacrificed and slaughtered to fuel his war machines. Those that weren’t were made into slaves. But one stood out from the crowd. One that Tormaaz could not ignore.

“You there! Elf!” his bellowing voice boomed out. His great sasumata pointing in her direction, “Come to me!”

The woman, a sin’dorei with snow white hair looked up at the great demon lord. But she did not cower. She wore the face of pride and confidence in the wake of his gruesome glory. Despite being left with nothing but scraps of linen to clothe the people, this elf had managed to create beauty out of poverty like no other. She was the queen of rags.

“What do you want, vile demon?” she spat, wholly argumentative until the very end.

“What do I want?! I, the great Tormaaz, demands you become my Empress!” he roared.

“Only a woman with such a defiant stare could ever be the wife of Tormaaz the Gargantuan!”

The woman was shocked. A demon? In love with an Elf? Could such romance be true?

“What is your name, woman?” Tormaaz asked as he lumbered forward, a great reptilian hand reaching down to scoop her up.

“The people call me Sana. You can call me that as well, Great Tormaaz,” she replied. Despite his disgusting image, she could sense the heart of a poet beating beneath his scaled breast.

Tormaaz pulled her up towards his face. The glow of orange hellfire reflecting off her pale skin as she was sat on his tusk. Crossing her legs at the knee, she looked down at the slaves of Azeroth. Her life would forever be changed.

The legions of Tormaaz mached forth. Fel flowers and bells chiming. Bilescourge chirping on the winds. Sayaad Torturers' forced slaves to scream in a cacophony that eerily sounded like the Bridal Chorus if one tried really hard to hear it.

Down an isle of lava and black stone, Sana walked with her chin held high in a dress of black and red. adorned with the skulls of the dead and glowing with the souls of the damned weaved into it’s very fabric. Sana herself had designed the dress, with the hands of a dozen shivarra to tailor it to perfection. Running behind her, the flower imp tossed felweed pedals in her wake.

Under a massive stone arch, Tormaaz watched her approach as a reverend Inquisitor demon waited. A single tear of lava rolled down the great Pitlords cheek. Sana looked up at him upon her arrival and smiled.

“Do you, Tormaaz the gargantuan, take Sana to be your unholy empress for all eternity?” asked the felfire priest.

“I do.” he answered.

“And do you, Sana, take Tormaaz the gargantuan to be your glorious emperor?”

“I do,” she answered.

“Then by the power vested in my by the dark titan himself. I now pronounce you Pitlord and Pitlady. You may kiss the bride.”

A great hulking hand reached down to pick up his new bride, pressing his sulfur stinking lips against her whole face.

smoooch

The who looked out over their demonic and slave attendants and smiled.

“HAIL EMPRESS SANA! SANA IS GOOD! SANA IS GREAT! ALL MOAN THE GREAT, GOOD, SANA!!” Tormaaz bellowed out.

The demons cheered, and the people lamented.

Thus the two returned to his throne room... to consummate the marriage properly.

@twosidedsana​ @daily-writing-challenge​

#dwc2021 #day32021 #Tormaaz #thalsianiii #sorry sana #not really sorry #I promise she said I could write a story featuring her #totally AU by the way! #AU

[theconstructsworld]

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 1 - Afterlife

The Construct’s designer wingtip boots clacked against the hard stone of Oribos’s Ring of Transference as he paced in circles. By this point in his journey, he had explored the available Afterlives, including The Maw, and while they all were fascinating in their own ways, he found himself...restless? Was that what this feeling was? Wanting more, but not being able to attain it? It was a feeling he experienced often, as if the world could not keep up with his curiosity. Now, not even the Shadowlands could.

Like a wild beast trapped in a cage.

The Brokers were of little help in answering his questions regarding other realms. Their knowledge came with a price, and The Construct was not adept at unintentionally swaying energy beings...yet. As with everything, it was a constant work in progress and harming or destroying them wouldn’t secure him their extensive knowledge, but instead probably gain him many enemies. That was not the objective of this particular expedition. 

The Brokers were able to move freely among the Afterlives, and previous conversations led him to believe that they were able to roam much more than what Azeroth’s occupants were allowed. But The Construct was unlike Azeroth’s typical occupants, wasn’t he? He didn’t need to follow the same rules, nor the same laws of the natural world; that much he had learned in his previous bouts of restlessness. Why couldn’t he navigate through the In-Between to explore new realms just as they did? He only had to believe he could do it, that seemed to be how things worked for him thus far.

He had been told of infinite Afterlives, a concept he couldn’t even fathom at the time; but the more he speculated, the more it made sense. This was not a place just for the inhabitants of his current timeline on Azeroth, this was meant for those from all corners of the universe within the infinite planes of existence. Life and death was so beautifully, but terribly vast.

He held onto those thoughts as icy eyes fluttered shut, pondering what the other realms may look like, what types of creatures, beings, and souls they may hold. Wondering if they too were in peril, and why they were not a part of this collective effort to stop something that must be affecting them as well. He thought of sandy beaches and deserts, cascading mountains and choppy seas, and never-ending fields of…

Eyes flew open as a sudden breeze kissed his cheeks, “...wildflowers.” His dulcet whisper was carried off into the wind as he turned in place, arms outstretched to graze his palms overtop of the brightly-colored, foreign flowers that spread out in every direction as far as the eye could see. Delicate footsteps carried him through the unfamiliar flora as his gaze drifted towards the sky, or what he assumed to be a sky. White wisps swirled around in irregular patterns set against the luminous light of whatever was up there. The longer The Construct observed, the more the frame of a massive flower became prevalent, constantly shifting its structure as if it were a living being. 

He was fully enraptured by the celestial phenomena, but a sudden jolt within his mind brought him back to where he previously had been wandering in Oribos. A nearby Broker watched him, clearly hesitant about approaching before eventually deciding to swiftly rejoin their Cartel. The Construct smiled to himself, and in tandem to his Master Gaebral, knowing fully well that he was the one to have retrieved his creation before any harm could befall him. 

Even the prettiest of flowers could carry the deadliest of poisons.

Had he done it? Had he just experienced another Afterlife? That was the assumption; whether or not he could duplicate the experience was another story. For now, his curiosity was sated and he had questions, or at least some information to trade.

@daily-writing-challenge​

#dwc2021 #day12021 #theconstruct #story #shadowlands #this went a way I didn't expect #but I like the end product!

[risrielthron]

A chance

When she was a child, moons would wax and wane over and over with people telling her “He will always be with you here.” or “He watches over you now.” And she wanted to believe. So much so that she never questioned what happened when one died. As in life, if you protected so to would you when your spirit left your body for the last time.

She believed her father’s connection to the Emerald Dream lent him strength in his wisp form. That when she was in trouble and she saw a wisp it was her father there at her side. As the years passed, this faith, this belief never wavered. 

But now she stood at her mother’s home, the note crumpled in her hand. Was it possible? Could she journey to these Shadowlands? A reunion in the afterlife between her parents?

Her eyes scanned her surroundings. The rooms she had rented for her mother looked the same. Nothing was out of place, it was if her mother had gone out shopping, not through the portal to the land of the dead. Her mother had left without even a goodbye to Risri other than this scrap of paper.

A frown marred the elf’s features and she loosened her grip upon the note looking down at the crinkled paper in her palm. Her mother was the one that had encouraged the belief of her father’s wisp watching over the two of them. But something had convinced Alistra to go. And go in a hurry. 

A sigh escaped her lips, Risri knew. If faced with the same choice when it came to Dragaur, she would do the same as her mother. Drop everything, without warning, and chase a hope to see him one more time.  Love made you do crazy and even silly things. And even all these years later, Risri knew her mother still loved her father.

The note was straightened and tucked into her bag. A last look around the apartment, Risri locked the door and made her way through the city headed back to her studio. A wisp hovered just out of sight following behind the photographer.

- - - - - - - - - -

Daily Writing Challenge 2021  Day 1 - Reunion / Afterlife

@daily-writing-challenge

#dwc2021 #day1 #I dont know how many I'll do #But today Risri wanted a voice

[ramiaell]

DWC Day 2 - Astray

Wander/Blame

- Suramar, some 8,000 years ago.

Loyalists, he was raised among them. His entire life revolved around protecting them. Thousands of years before the Legion first came, his family had swore loyalty to protect their Lord and thus was the beginning of the elite force the Stoneblades had become. A specialized unit trained since birth in ancient forms of combat that the Duskwatch guard did not even know. Mostly because their form of combat was terrifying to those with knowledge of magic which their people embraced. The Stoneblades blows could shatter the mana from any spellcaster’s body, and thus the deadly blades the lineage had created struck fear in the hearts of any they were ordered to terminate. The coming of the legion had separated the people of Suramar from the rest of the Kaldorei Empire and for all they knew, their world was destroyed outside those walls. And thus the techniques the Stoneblades used became an ancient tradition that was lost to almost all but this specialized unit. Since their beloved city became closed off, the Stoneblades became the loyal hounds for the lord they served and in return they were treated better if not almost equal in respect. His family was so closely intertwined with the noble house that they knew their every inner working. Every enemy and every dirty secret as they were not without their zealous ways. Even Elisande would occasionally call upon her most loyal and thus they were sent to carry out her whim as they had proved most useful. The Stoneblades had become part of the fanatical supporters because their lord ordered it and for thousands of years they worked with the Duskwatch to keep their people in line. They were feared, they were respected… they were hated. Two days ago, Ramiaell became the youngest Stoneblade alive, the last in fact to have been born before his family was eradicated and the house they served along with them. He had a very estranged relationship with his parents, especially his father after an incident when he was barely a teen. There was no true love loss when he watched him die, but who’s fault was it that he felt that way? He was considered young even now among his people, barely a young adult. But he’d lived long enough in those hundreds of years to become fully accustomed to the structure and life of the nobility who never had to want for anything. To walk with such pride and prestige for so long but as a Stoneblade he had to earn that right and he had. His father made certain of it. And like all those before Ramiaell, he was hardwired and trained to live for nothing else than to fight like the muscle they’d bred him to be since he was old enough to walk.

And now he was forced to wander the streets as a mere lowly citizen, his penance for walking away instead of fighting to the bitter end. But he wasn’t one of them. He didn’t belong among the citizens nor the loyalists. He didn’t truly belong anywhere, not after what they’d made him. So where did a highly trained security detail who knew no other life turn when he had noone left to protect. There were many lords and houses that would take him in just because of his family’s name alone. As hated as the Stoneblades were they were more feared and for good reason which is why they saw fit to eradicate every one of them along with the lord they’d served. But if word got out that one survived, that -he- had lived, he’d be hunted and put any he swore to serve at risk. And yet the question remained, did he even want to go back to that life? Did he wish to protect those who were still doing what had been done to him? He knew the loyalists' secrets, their vile and disgusting games within the courts and what they were doing to their own people to pacify their boredom living day to day to keep fear and order. It was sad, it was wrong, and since when had he grown a conscious about it. His family had raised him to be void of such emotions. Maybe it had worked too well, because in the end he chose to be completely numb as he watched the light fade from his father’s eyes before he walked away. Numb to the fact that his brother, his mother… his family’s whole legacy and the house they’d sworn loyalty too had fallen before his eyes. He knew it wasn’t his doing, he wasn’t the one to blame. So he felt nothing as he walked away from it all, just as his father had walked away from him when he needed him most. He hadn’t forgotten, he never would. But what now? Hunt, or be hunted. Those were his choices, that was his reality. A professional killer was always needed, even in this beloved city. At least as an assassin, he could choose who he worked for. He was tired of being a loyal dog, time to go astray.

((A look into Rami’s thoughts during a big turning point in his life, thousands of years ago from now when he was still rather young by elven standards.)) @daily-writing-challenge

#dwc2021 #day22021 #Ramiaell #Assassin #Hitman #The fall of the Stoneblades #Loyalists #Suramar #Shaldorei #Nightborne #Astray #Wander #Blame #my writing

[konietzko-sylvoran]

DWC Day 3 - Inspiring Passion

A whole year has come and gone, perhaps the fastest year that I can recall to date in my life thus far. Still we treat dating as if it were our first, leaving lasting impressions on one another's hearts that are unforgettable. When he asked me to come with him that night on yet another of his other worldly adventures into the cosmos and beyond, who was I to say no? I was eager to see what night sky he would whisk me away too this time and thus one might imagine my shock when I found myself gazing at a sky not unfamiliar. It was very similar to where we had gone on our first date. Right away I knew this night would be something special, but what night spent away with my beloved Kal was not extraordinary? He was my extravagant one before I knew his name, he still is to this day.

Though the sky above us was familiar, the lay of the land beyond that was entirely new to me. Just like every date I've taken with him, there is always a leap of faith hand in hand before we tread another measure through time. We leapt down the ledge to the lake below as I half expected us to walk on water to the edge of the falls. But he guided me instead to a boulder that stood out of the water somewhere in the middle of the lake. As I've come to appreciate, he began caressing me with sweet words and gentle touches he knew I was a sucker for and melting my heart with his handsome smile. He wished to show me something tonight. Something that he had not shared with any other as it was very difficult for him to share at all. I could not begin to fathom what it might be so I stood there on the boulder watching him most curious and quite eager.

With the magic he commanded as expertly as one breathed air, he summoned forth a case as a beautiful violin was pulled from it. I hadn’t even known that Talthorn could play an instrument of any sort, he was only recently learning how to sing but this took me by surprise. Was he seeking lessons from someone in secret as I had done for him last winter’s veil? So many curious thoughts filled my head but I asked not a one as soon those questions were all silenced. He took his first steps out onto the water, the magic of the potion he’d drunk kept him from sinking into the lake. He turned to face me as he raised that violin to his shoulder and his chin came down to hug it so intimately. His hair was worn long so it cascaded down the full length of his backside and down to his knees catching every glimmer of the moon and the starlight above that reflected in the water around him. Just merely standing there like that he left me breathless with anticipation and in awe of the magnificent sight he was to behold. And yet, he seemed… nervous? But why? I was probably the only one who could even see it in him, but I knew the signs to look for. He was shaking, trying to remain confident and in control but he was truly uneasy about this. It was so very unlike him I did not know rather to stop him or to encourage him to give him comfort to go on. ((Care to Hear What he Played?)) The moment the first few notes were played, my mouth went agape. As soon as I heard that bow against those strings I was captivated. It was beautiful, and it instantly made my breath pause as I dare not take my eyes away from him. Everything around us in that moment seemed suddenly alive with the magic of the scene he was creating, and then… the first notes of the song played. By note three I knew what he was playing and I was left breathless a second time as I gasped unable to find air. He was playing our song. One of many songs we held near and dear, but this one… was -very- dear. We first heard it together at a ball where we had danced the night away entirely lost in one another’s arms there under the Stormsong moonlight. It was later the song I chose to sing to him in my closing at “Konfest” much to his surprise. I sang of my heart's desire with the full range of my voice before all our friends who had come to support Talthorn’s grand idea of a show that had sparked the Hearts of Tenacity as it was today. It was the very song he hummed time and time again in our home. And now, it was the song he was in his own way singing back to me through his own language of love. Just hearing him play it was beautiful. Watching him and how he put his entire heart into the song as he played and his fingers shook along those strings was breathtaking. But when he chose to add his magical flare to the song as a full show of what his heart felt in those moments was something, I had no words for. The water rose from the lake itself and swirled around him as he played, the way his hair flowed behind him as those runes along his body flared to life and the pure emotion in his face. I will never forget it. He said it was something he would only show me and noone else, I saw and I knew why in these moments as the song came to an end. I was witnessing something he had long ago lost and found anew. Something that gave him a way to show his true emotions through art and music and how terrifying it was for him to trust that it was ok to live in the now of this moment and embrace the passion he felt within him. The literal and figurative magic of this moment was something Talthorn had meant to share before an audience of one. And by its end, there was no applause. Only tears as ones heart naturally burst with the joy and warmth you felt after such a moment shared as this. When he came to me it was all I could do not to drop to one knee. Talthorn and I have a dream to share our passion with the world and to be the warm lights that still shine for many. That night, he was my passionate one and I was the light that held him till those hands trembled no more.

@daily-writing-challenge @talthorn-sylvoran

#dwc2021 #day32021 #Konietzko-lumenstone #Romance #Date Night #I can't help falling in love with you #Violin #Talthorn #Kon and Tal #Konietzko and Talthorn #Hearts of Tenacity #a night to remember

[daily-writing-challenge]

September 19th - October 19th

*Word prompts will be released on the first day, September 19th!*

#2021prompt #dwc2021 #daily writing challenge 2021

[jackarychaoti]

DWC2021-4 Accomplish/Macabre

- [ Music ] -

“Okay, ready?”

Jack rubbed his hands together as he inhaled deeply, glancing up at Dicenne with a look of determination, nodding. Shifting from one foot to the other, the stage had been empty, and yet there the two were, one practicing while the other was training him.

“Good, and up!”

Rushing forward, Jack caught the edge of the stage to try and hoist himself up but with not enough momentum, he went off balance and fell onto his back with a loud thud, exhaling from the wind knocked clear out of him. Oh, gods, why did it hurt so badly?

A hand moved to cover Dice’s mouth, holding back the small noise as he tried not to smile at just how horrible the landing had been. “For a guy who can gracefully dance through trees…” Pulling his hand from his mouth, he clapped.

“Try again.”

Jack groaned and rolled to push himself back up, jumping down to step into the audience area, turning to face the stage. Another kick-off had the beast rush at the stage to once more grab the edge and hoist himself up in a forward roll, a bit more graceful than prior but the rolling contained too much momentum, throwing him far too forward to crash onto his face with a wince.

“You got this, try again.”

Over and over Jack tried, over and over he failed, not quite sticking the landing up until the entry to the stage was just right. Dicenne finally moved over to pat Jack on his bruised back lightly, mindful of the mechanical spine. A hand was offered to help the dragon stand. “Now you’re up on stage, let’s start with the basics.”

A push upward had Jack next to Dice, watching the movements, each motion of dance mimicked and tried, some nailed and some failed. Every step he took, Dicenne helped to direct him to the safest manner of stage presence. Words of encouragement were called out through each attempt, the care in the training had certainly been of someone who was passionate about their job and another who was finally eager to learn. Even if Jack had fallen countless times from the stage or his chair prop in an attempt to keep his balance, he was always greeted with a hand to pull his ass back up to stand and try again.

“You’re going to break your back if you lay in that position and don’t lead up with your back. Raise your hips, not your spine.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, see how much easier that is?”

“Y-Yeah..! I do!”

“Good, now tilt your head back to look at the audience, focus on a single point when you roll over so as not to get dizzy.”

It was the same day after day, in the cooler evenings when they would practice, Dicenne lead each coordinated movement and Jack would follow until finally he had begun to get the hang of it and was able to keep up with the Ringleader in a much easier manner. Every spin, every turn, and striking sensual pose hit with a precision that Jackary found to become like second nature. It even came to the point where Dice simply let the blond work on his moves, only needing to give small pointers here and there to assure all seats of the audience received a proper view. The blacksmith mused in accomplishment that he’d managed to train the dragon rather flawlessly.

However, no amount of preparation could shake off the nerves of the first performance, and his hands soon flexed as he stood off to the side of the stage, staring forward from feeling the rumble of the very ground vibrate from the amount of cheering and clapping. Jack closed his eyes tightly to breathe. How many times had he been there to comfort a Tart right before they went on stage? The anxiety that pumped through their veins of not knowing what to expect seared his throat. The spider legs had been equipped to his wing pack and as he awaited the macabre horror of his debut performance to be called, there were a couple of arms around him soothing him just as he soothed the others.

Could he even do this..?

‘I’m fine sticking with Security, I wouldn’t be caught dead on that stage.’

That was what Jack had said at his initial Tart application interview.

All Dicenne could do was smile.

'Yeah? I still think you’d be great up there…’

‘Ten gold says I’ll never be up there.’

‘We'll see.’

That was then, this was now.

Now, he stood at the edge of the stage, breathing heavily, waiting to hear his call. He felt lightheaded, dizzy, the rushing adrenaline that was building up to carry him through it, and yet all Jack could do was face this head-on, there was no turning back now. He needed a breath of air, he couldn’t breathe…

“Just like we practiced,” came a soft voice, pulling Jack from his oncoming panic attack. One of the arms around him had been Dicenne, standing at his side in support as the man had been since the day they met. There he was, being a pillar again and such calmed the fried nerves, Dicenne’s ever confident posture was Jack’s strength at that moment.

“Ready..?”

“Y… Yeah.”

Yes, he could do this.

The moment Jackary heard his name called, his mind went blank, a white screen as muscle memory carried him through the show. He couldn’t tell who was in the audience, all he could hear was his own breathing, his own heart pounding in his chest and head. Cay had said they found there was an addiction to the sound of applause but Jack wouldn’t figure out what they had meant until that white trance of silence broke from the low rumble of clapping hands. The noise pulled him out of his stupor and suddenly he was backstage again, Dicenne’s arm around him once more, ever with a charming grin as the roaring thunder of excitement echoed beyond the curtains.

Just as it had started, suddenly it was over.

Cay was right, it was addictive.

“So…?”

“I’m… I’m not dead--” Jack wheezed as he hunched over, panting for air to ease the burning of his lungs. The realization that he’d held his breath far too long, mixed with the euphoric high of the performance had the dragon slumped against Dice’s side, leaning on him to gain his bearings.

“Remind me to teach you how to breathe on stage.”

Once all was said and done, indeed Dicenne had been handed ten gold pieces that night from shaking hands. There really was no going back, not anymore. Not now that he had finally tasted the stage, Jack truly felt as if this was what he was meant to do, he’d found his calling.

He really was a Tart.

| - @daily-writing-challenge - @dicenne - @mekandawn (Mention) - |

#DWC2021 #DWC 4 #Captain and Cap #Succulent Tart #hhhhhhhhh #sobs

[kharrisdawndancer]

He hadn’t meant to chase her, but thinking back on it, maybe that’s what he’d done. Someone had once called him a puppy, when it came to her (Andy?). Maybe he had chased her. He grinned. She had, finally, taken him home. And he’d certainly had a crush for a long time, before anything happened, long before she’d ever really noticed him. He remembered that Raerys had encouraged it wildly. She still did. He had always appreciated Raerys in his corner. Lynesse, too. Ren snorted and rolled over, tucking Trisandrah closer to him. He couldn’t remember meeting her. Was that weird? He had tried to remember many times, and all he got were early memories of a mysterious, beautiful woman who had the best smile. Had there been a time he hadn’t gotten a little smitten when he’d seen her? He couldn’t recall one.

He was getting better about remembering things. He remembered her at the Menagerie, selling chocolate. At the brewery, with his cheatsheet for the drinks not very well hidden. She hated bourbon, that’s where he learned that. He remembered that early on. He remembered runs in the morning (thanks, Raerys) and stops at the Breadsmith (thanks, Lyn). Fireworks by the water at Fire Fest in the summers. How she’d sounded in the bathroom talking (to presumably Raerys) about how he wanted to date her. The infamous Negotiation. He kissed her hair with a smile and closed his eyes.

He remembered the day she’d shown him the hidden parts of her apartment--over a year after they’d been together(ish). Leaving her a love note on a scrap of paper and fleeing before she could. How she looked when she held Raerys’s daughter. How she smiled at him when he brought her a new bracelet. How she looked when she tasted a new ‘winner’ chocolate recipe. How she danced. How she punched (very well, thank you). How she made drinks and small talk for the Tarts. If she ran, he’d run with her. @daily-writing-challenge

Day 15 Memory/Chase

mentions: @trisandrah @gloamingdawn @raevanmun @andaerosdawnflare

#day152021 #dwc2021 #Renrael #Trisandrah #Sappy #Veri's writing

[straightouttatheashes]

Afterlife / Reunion

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 1 - Afterlife/Reunion --- Maldraxxus was an odd place to be taking a break in - but the two had come to slowly get used to it as they searched for more things that piqued their interest to add to their collection. A few hours had passed, and the decision to spectate a few of the arena matches had been made. Of course, there was no way in hell that Phe herself would fight - considering how she obviously was not one of the Maldraxxi, and there’d be no way to return her to the arena if she’d fall. Well...there was but she really didn’t want to think about that.  Sitting beside Barry, the two poked and nudged at each other - throwing little jokes and quips here and there as they waited for the next round of challenges to start.  “I know you can win a fight, but can you win against those guys down there?” Barry asked with a smirk.  “Probably? But...if I lost...no more Phe for you.”  “Hey now! That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Barry huffed and rubbed her head as she leant against him - which only got a little snicker out of her.  “I know. Don’t worry. I’ll fight somethin else soon and you can watch me and get all hot over it.” She grinned up at him, before the loud booming voice of the arena announcer caught their attention again. Before the two could even move to grab better seats however, a voice boldly called out to them....or at least one of them specifically by name. “Baerithryn Xantrani.” A human donning typical maldraxxi armor approached them, and Barry tensed beside her. Fair skin, black hair pulled back into a pony-tail and amber eyes. It was clear Barry didn’t recognize this man, and she sure as hell didn’t either. One thing was for certain though. He was either someone who had joined the Necrolords or belonged with them.  But why did he know Barry’s true name?  As Barry reached for his daggers, Phe lowered her voice. “Say the word...and I snap his neck.”  Considering what they’d been through recently, she wasn’t risking anything. If this man was a threat, she wasn’t taking any chances. And neither was Barry. --- Reunions were funny things. Some filled with happiness and joy. Others sad, bittersweet. Some even brought up harsh and angry memories. Walking away from such a reunion was only leaving Barry with more questions than answers, even though the man - ‘David’ as they had found out, had rambled off so much information in such little time...and still managed to be vague about it.  Barry had always assumed his parents had just disappeared. A story of an orphan, abandoned by parents that decided they didn’t like him anymore. But the truth was something far more confusing, at least to the half-elf himself.  David was his father, and he had died years ago when Barry was young. Perhaps Barry had known, but had been in denial. Phe had never pushed for him to remember such things. As David talked, more and more things came to light...and yet Barry felt as if he remained in the dark. If Phe hadn’t been there, he would have surely just turned on his heel and left.  Phe had promised the man that they’d return and talk to him. Barry needed time, and Maldraxxus was not a place where he could clear his head and think. It had been a lot to take in, in such a short amount of time.  His parents had been killed. The ring that Barry always wore - an heirloom from his mother - had been given to him the night they’d disappeared. David had been a pirate in his former life, and his wife, Hycis, an elf from Silvermoon. They’d fallen in love, and left their original lives behind to be together...and eventually raise a son.  But they’d both been separated in the afterlife. And Hycis’ whereabouts remained unknown.  There was a lot that needed peicing together...but it was clear Barry had heard enough. As they left the man behind...Phe wondered if her partner would return to speak with him.  Afterall, he had been with her when she sought out Rhelon. Then again...this was different. A harsh truth coming to light, and just on the off-chance that his son would recognize the name if he had called it. David had taken a chance, and it had worked. It was Barry’s choice now. --- @golden-pocket​ for mentions @daily-writing-challenge​

#writing #dwc2021 #dwc day 1

[safrona-shadowsun]

DWC 2021: Ceremony

( Part of the DWC 2021 Prompt found here }

Day 28: Ascension/Obsession

Day 29: Heart/Monster

Day 30: Ceremony / Catastrophic

Ebon circle

Red crown

Is it the right obsession

To be this bound?

Be by ceremony

Be by soul

Follow you on down

Death my toll

______

Can you remember?

Do you want to know?

Let me take you away from here

______

Fel-fed flame

Shadowed soul

Do I take my heart back

Would it make you whole?

Stars may stall

Time may stop

Follow you on down

Give you my all

_______

Can you remember?

Do you want to know?

I can take you away from here

______

Or have I looked back too much

And lost you?

{ @thefirstperished, @daily-writing-challenge }

#safwriting #warcraft #The First Perished #dwc2021 #daily writing challenge 2021 #drabble #stories #poetry #Orpheus/Eurydice insp #Bit late but here we are #Safart #my art