Restlessness.

The following are just some short writings that i've been doing on The Shatterskull Marauder forums about current inter guild politics and posturing that i thought i'd share with the community as a whole.

Hammerfall was old, The Holdfast in Arathi had stood for many years now and those years were starting to manifest as creeping moss and half crumbled roofs that did little to keep out the chill of the wind or the brutal rain. She couldn’t sleep that night, she could hear it beating against the moss eaten walls of the barracks, that hushed low thrum of the biting wind, marching North like an army, down through the Wetlands and then up and over the Span, in her mind it was an army that was coming for her and her alone, in her mind it was her end that marched North with the wind.

As the unrelenting rhythmic thump…thump…thump of the wind battered on the walls like so many clubs, her thoughts drifted to Heywarde to her dear beloved Brother. Although this evenings weather would have you believe otherwise Spring had come to Azeroth but for Sylphi it was winter, it had been winter for coming on half a year now, ever since Heywarde went missing in the wastes of Northrend, she didn’t know the full story of her brothers demise but what little information she had gleaned from a trip North led her to believe that he went down with a patrol sent from The Argent Vanguard, She hated herself for not forcing him to stay but her brother was proud and stubborn, a trait that many would say ran in the family.

She lay there, tossing and turning in her uncomfortable straw filled bed but the wind and her mind wouldn’t let her rest. She’d been going through all the events that brought her to this place, all the unjust misunderstandings and mistrust of her craft that had permeated the Warband, the Warband she would have died for in the past, was it so wrong of her to punish others for their transgressions? For their displays of weakness, her brother died for The Shatterskull Marauders and she would not see his memory pissed on. She always came to that conclusion when she thought about it, she was right, what she was doing had to be done….it was best for the future, and deep down it was what they all wanted, she knew they would see that her way was the right way, the true way, the best way…..eventually.

“You’re only doing this to save your own skin you know Sylphi, you couldn’t care less about the warband, you’ve severed your ties girl, you’re selfish, stubborn and deluded, Wracked with your own petty grief and trapped in this downward spiral of loathing you’ve made your bed…now you have to lie in it”

It was always there niggling in the darkest corners of her mind, but as always it was drowned out by the self aggrandising thoughts of her “Just” cause, she was in far too deep to back out now, other parties were involved, their plans kicking into action any day now, she was in far too deep to back out now, she was in far too deep to back out now. Turning to face the wall she tried once again to drift off.

“I have made my bed….and I will lie in it, If only the wind will let me”

Morning had come to the Arathi Highlands and had brought the first proper day of summer sun with it, it was heady and warm as it glared down on the moss covered and craggy grasslands. Nestled close to the Mountains in the North East of the region lay Hammerfall and in its old barracks Sylphi Searingheart, Exiled Warcaller of The Shatterskull Marauders as she styled herself sat taking breakfast with her green skinned hosts.

It was uncomfortably warm she thought to herself, sitting with her back to a massive hole in the Southern wall of the building she could feel the heat against her skin under her robes as it pressed down oppressively on her back, fixing herself she gave an anguished sigh as her hand felt how hot to the touch her robes were. Her breakfast which lay before her was a meagre affair of stale bread and meat of a questionable origin, which she’d been trying to eat without much success for the past half hour, It was too hot to eat anyway and every time she attempted to swallow the heat fought against her.

“This arrived for you this morning”

The old orc tossed her a dismissive sideways glance as he hurled the sealed letter in her direction, She’d been here for months now but lacking the numbers or indeed prowess in battle to stir the affections of Hammerfalls stoic residents they had never really “warmed” to her, she was convinced the only reason they tolerated her presence is because she had the coin to pay for lodgings and enough skill at healing to at least prove useful should the need arise, however the need as of yet, had not risen.

“Thank you kindly dear”

Her reply was garnished with just the right inflection of acidity to warrant another disapproving grunt and disdainful glare. Clutching the letter in her hands she broke its seal, the grisly depiction of a skull split down the centre, It was from Thrakha that much she could tell, she folded it and placed it into a small velvet pouch she kept hung around her waist.

“Well my friends it’s been a pleasure as always, but I’m afraid I must be about my business for the day”

As she rose from her seat at the great table in Hammerfalls long neglected barracks the Orcs eyed her up and down and gave polite, if empty nods in reply. She made her way to the terraced wooden overlook just outside the Barracks proper all the while keeping one hand on the pouch around her waist for fear of somehow losing it in transit.

“Perhaps she has seen the error of her ways she thought; perhaps they have finally made her see sense”

Wishful thinking on her part considering everything that had led her to her current state of self imposed exile. She found a quiet spot in the shade away from any possible prying eyes, took the letter out of her pouch and began to read.

It was all very polite and formal she thought, Thrakha had started by greeting her warmly, taking special care not to refer to her by rank of course and then gone into some detail about how recent visitors had informed her of Sylphi’s desire to return to The Warband. It was true that she’d had visitors of late, namely Igra who had come to Sylphi to inform her of the Warbands recent activities in Outland and told her in no uncertain terms that “The Warband needs her” as not everyone was In agreement or indeed trusted her successor the good Doctor Raldorr Von Kendal.

The letter wasn’t long by any means it was succinct and to the point, much like its author, it set out quite clearly that Sylphi could indeed return to The Warband but only at the lesser rank of Stormseer, that much was made very clear.

She sat there, in the shade on the overlook of that old place, that old place where she wasn’t really welcome or indeed wanted and toyed with the idea of returning to The Shatterskull Marauders, she imagined her return to be a joyus affair, the members of The Warband would cheer and welcome her back with open arms as she took up station as Stormseer, but that was a fantasy, something she’d created in her head to ease her through these darker days. No, the only way she was going to return was as Warcaller she was resolved in this and she had her faith to see her through however delusional others might say she had become she was not going to be defeated, not by the Orcs of Hammerfall, Not by The Shatterskull Marauders and most definitely not by Thrakha Ironsong the pretender Chieftain who won her place as chief through the support of The Circle and the support of Sylphi Searingheart, Exiled Warcaller of The Shatterskull Marauders.

Reaching into the pouch she pulled out some parchment and a quill gilt in exquisite finely wrought gold and began to write her reply, beginning slowly and calmly she took care to make sure that her writing was perfectly formed and refined in every detail, until there was a light dropping sound and the ink slowly started to run. Looking up from her task she saw that the sun had deigned to vanish from the sky and was replaced with a thick blanket of grey clouds and with that came the rain.

(( Nice stories and easy reading! ))

(( nais slipje ))