What brings your character comfort after time afield?
"This armor will need to be replaced, Dame Lightfaith," the Shu'halo blacksmith grunted as he took the straps of the paladin's armor in-hand. He hefted the load far easier than she had, but the weight of the full-plate was still significant.
Sin'Solaria sighed, sweeping a hand over her hair. "I suppose you're right, Karn. I'll have to commission a new set from High Command and hope they have it ready in time for me to get back to work."
Karn eyed the half-melted plate. "What *have* you been doing, anyway?"
She shrugged. "Just the Firelands, Karn."
He snorted, but by then the paladin turned and started walking back to her room at Thunder Bluff's inn. As she went by the desk, the innkeeper waved her down, presenting her with a small pile of envelopes. "Messages left for you, good Dame."
Sin'Solaria nodded and gave the Shu'halo a grateful smile. She flipped through the envelopes, most of which were invitations to this or that, some reports from the field, but one of them stood out from all the others. The paper was purest white, limned with gold filigree. Upon the back, a single crimson dollop of wax was dried, and imprinted into the
wax was a stylized "L" reworked to vaguely resemble a Naaru.
A letter from home.
The hammering from the forge outside did little to stir the Knights thoughts as he layed in his hammock as it swayed gently as the breeze from the barrens found its way in and rustled some papers on his small table. A deep slow breath in, followed by a sigh as it escaped again as his body stretched to relax.
Resting on the small stool next to him was a cup of green tea, and next to it an old glass wine bottle with a stick of insence burning inside of it. It filled the room with the heavy scent of sandalwood, smoke from the rim dancing elegantly through the air.
How long had it been since he last relaxed, he couldnt remember. Last time he saw Elle he assumed. Slowly his eyes grew heavy and the lids greeted themselves with a deep dreamless sleep.
Slowly, Wenna walked through the streets of Stormwind. She nursed her various hurts and aches and pains, cradling a tender arm. I hope tha' ain' broken. Settin' it'll be a righ' cold iron bitch. Her garden called to her gently, as it always did - a small refuge of life in a city of stone and smoke.
Reaching the guarded archway, Wen stumbles through, catching herself on a knotted tangle of protruding roots. She looked up at the willow tree with a fond smile, remembering the days it had been since she planted it, and how fast it had grown. Her smile remains as she examines the various plants and small bits of statuary she still had remaining before collapsing on the ground in a heap.
The grass tenderly strokes her wounded arm and her other aches as she lays down, staring at the small patch of sky she can see. The garden gave to her its own healing energies, and as she lay there, her thoughts turn to her loves as the wounds heal. Her eyes close and her thoughts drift back to the evenings they shared together.
I love'm all *crunch!* soooOOOAAAAAAGH! Fel'n bleedin' bother, I guess tha' was broken....
Another day, another battle. She was bruised, cut in places where her shields hadn't quite caught incoming swings, and aching throughout. No burns. She never burned, never froze. Except that once ... her hand strayed up to her right cheek, still marked with slighlty shiny raised burn welts after all this time. Damnable Warlock.
And she smiled, mouth quirking left away from the stiffening of the scars. I love a good battle, she thought. When did I start craving a no-holds-barred give-it-all-you-have-and-more combat to the death? The answer to that lay in a continuum of events all whirling around the Orcs she'd come to admire so deeply.
Tonight, though, she was just as glad to come home. Porting into the entrance, wards caressing her in welcome, she could drop her warrior side. The clean, deeply glowing wood floors, the perfectly arranged furnishings combining grace and comfort, the sense of safe isolation from the world ... all these let her relax.
The scattered rose petals and full roses plucked of thorns leading up the gently curving stairs, now those did more than relax. A wave of her hand and her battle robes were gone. She gathered a few blooms on her way up. Those and her long red hair were all she used for modesty as she turned right into the bathing room.
As expected, her husband waited in their large, deep bathtub. She and the roses soon joined him. For a time, she was simply a woman loving a man, aches easing away, battles out of mind.
Another fight tomorrow. Tonight, only love.
The shady tavern fell silent the moment Lesi nosed her way through the creaking door. The smell of battle and dried blood followed in her wake as she lumbered inside.
“No animals allowed in here!” yelled a voice to her left.
She turned to see a small green blur standing on what she assumed was a bar stool. The potent smell of liquor emanated strongly from the creature. Yes, this was the one she wanted to speak to.
Rearing up on her hind legs, she slowly shifted from a massive bear back down into her natural form. A small pouch of silver was tossed in the direction of the strong smelling individual.
“Give me the strongest ale you have, and as much of it as my coin can buy.”
"This blood smells."
Dhalam was by far from annoyed, no, annoyed wasn't the proper word for a situation such as this. Her armor, hair, hooves and hands were caked with blood from the many foes she had slain just the night prior. It had long since dried, her skin felt suffocated and hot, her fingers could barely move - it was as if she were breaking free from a clay prison.
And yet, her glowing eyes widened in excitement when she lay sight upon her cottage on the hill; the clucking of chickens, roaring of beasts and the sight of tiny creatures frolicking through the farm yard brought a warmth to her chest.
She was home.
Trotting weakly towards her friends her arms out stretched to cling to the first beast she could catch, unfortunately it was Sun; a drake from the yellow dragon flight. His large jaws intimidatingly widened over the small form of Dha, yet there she stood, fearless and foolishly devoted to nestling her face against the hardened cool scales of his broad neck.
For a time she stood like this, the dragon merely whining in protest to this affectionate display, it was clear he was not enjoying himself. "I'm sorry, Sun. I just missed you so much." The beast merely grumbled in response, shaking his pointed skulll left to right in quick shakes.
By the time the draenei let him go, she was greeted by Rooster; the flaming tortise who eagerly scratched the end of his erupted horn along her armored calf. He expectantly stared on her, impatiently waiting for the prize he had waited days to recieve.
In a joyous laugh, Dhalam released Sun and reached into the pack strapped to her hip, from its contents she held a large fish and threw it to her pet. "I didn't forget you, Rooster." The demonic looking shelled creature widened his jaws and snapped up the treat, ripping and swallowing all to the best of his ability.
And all the draenei could do was stand before the slowly growing circle of animals that gathered to receieve the same treatment, the music of their noises; whether that be a growl or a gurgle, was receieved with a large smile from Dhalam and even though exhausted, loyally and diligantly began tending to their needs.
"..Home sweet home..."
The sound of cloth covered feet echoes lightly down the halls as she walks out the doors of the Cathederal. She may have been gone for a few weeks, But the Brothers still remembered the Dwarf. She smiles coyly as she walk towards her destination, her one comfort in these hard times.
As she apporaches the Orphanage she see's Shellene and nods briefly, "How the wee ones be today?" As much as it hurt to see the children, she still looked forward to spending time with them. This was her passion, her only reason she still fought,the real reason she was a Stormwind Guard, She didnt want anymore Orphans.
Her eyes aglow with pride she waits on the littany of scrapes and bruises that inevitably comes from playing children. Theses little ones wern't hers, never would be, But she still did all she could for them. The days alone with these Children of War were her only solace in these dark times. They may not have much in the way of Family, But they had her.
As they day comes to a close she notices that the children, though she hasn't seen them in at least a month, still remember her. Her days with them are few and far between, but she still cherishes them. To the children she will always be there.
She reflects on this as she turns to leave and hears her radio sqwack, "Constable Faddun, Medical Emergency at the blue Recluse, Over." She sighs as she looks at the children, "Aye, a Medics work be never done." But she would never consider the children work.
Lawrence heaved a heavy sigh as he walked through the door of his home in Lor'danel, guard tabard in hand, his radio turned off. Another late night in the Command Center meant that his beloved wife fell asleep alone again. Try as he might, the clanking of his armor was too loud, and Zaerah woke up.
"You're late again, hon..." she said softly, rubbing her eyes.
"I know. Had another late night bar brawl to clean up. Almost like a small riot broke out in there." Lawrence replied, plopping on the edge of the bed and rubbing the back of his neck with a gauntleted hand. He tosses his tabard and radio to the floor with exhaustion.
"No rest for the weary, is there? Ya think they'd get tired of fightin' each other and just be happy bein drunk together. Here, let me help you with that." Zaerah offers, a soothing tone in her already relaxing voice. She works at the ties and stays of his armor, dropping each piece on the floor as she removes them until he is comfortably out of the armor and in his housewear. Zaerah begins massaging the knots from Lawrence's shoulders as he recounts his day, humming a sweet melody to him as all the stress is slowly worked out, little by little, until his words are but a mere whisper brought about by his now relaxed state. He ends his story and places a hand on hers, looking silently up into her soft brown eyes, planting a gentle kiss upon her lips.
"Thanks for that, love." He says as he scoots farther into bed, patting the mattress next to him. "Now let's get back to sleep, before any other shenanigans unfold that require my attention."