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 [RP-Story] Rites of Passage - by Caedryn

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PostSubject: [RP-Story] Rites of Passage - by Caedryn   Thu Jan 21, 2010 4:03 pm

((copied from: http://forums.wow-europe.com/thread.html?topicId=12304661166&postId=123028242226&sid=1#6 - Vyp))

((Constructive feedback is more than welcome!))

The Blood Knight Temple, Silvermoon; approximately three years after the fall of Quel'Thalas.

„It is time, Adept. The time has come for you to obtain Knighthood, and I am certain you will not disappoint me.“

Master Aldryth Flamewrath regarded his student with an appraising glance as he spoke, looking for a change of expression on the youthful face. He was pleased to find a zealous eagerness there, a quality he always appreciated in those he trained. The eyes looking back at him were glowing with an almost feverish green fire. But the Adept, aware of his Master’s quick-tempered nature, dared not to speak up. He only nodded and remained in the same respectful posture as before.

„Of course, I’m aware that your trial will have to be of a different nature than those my other students had to pass. We both know that neither an iron fist nor relentless strength are talents you possess.“ Master Flamewrath allowed himself a sardonic smile as he sensed disappointed in the younger elf. His words had aimed at a weak spot, and he had hoped to stir exactly that reaction.

„But worry not. Even though you are at best a mediocre fighter, I believe you still have a place in this Order. That is why I kept a protecting hand over you all these past months, against the judgment of other Blood Knight Masters. You are eager and undoubtedly devoted to the sacred cause of this Knighthood, and your talent for bending the Light to your will is worthy of acknowledgement. I have chosen the circumstances of your trial very carefully. I believe you will find it to be just after your liking.“

Master Flamewrath placed a hand on his Adept’s shoulder in an almost fatherly manner, his smile now warmer than before. He could sense that the younger elf had very recently fed on magic, the residue of Fel still lingering about him. Maybe his feverish looks were not only due to his eagerness.

„It has to my come attention that you are a lover of the written word. But you’ll surely agree that not every book or scroll deserves conserving. Sometimes words are used to spread lies and absurd ideas. And those scriptures need to burn in purging fires, just like we burnt the propaganda of those seeking to defame our beloved Prince.“ The hand now firmly squeezed the Adept’s shoulder, and the young elf furrowed his brow in confusion. He did not seem to understand what was being asked of him, but nodded regardless. Such an obedient student, this one.

Master Flamewrath raised his free hand, and with a flick of a wrist he summoned an orb the size of a hawkstrider egg. It radiated with a soft purple glow, slowly rotating as it floated in the air.

„This, Caedryn, is an orb of deception. It was granted to me by a Magister that is a very dedicated sponsor of our Order. And it will, at least for a while, hide that green glimmer of your eyes. Yes, you heard correctly – you will pose as a high elf while you teach the followers of the treacherous Holy Light a lesson. Now don’t give me that look! As I said, my young Adept – I am certain you will not disappoint me.“

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PostSubject: Re: [RP-Story] Rites of Passage - by Caedryn   Thu Jan 21, 2010 4:04 pm

Hillsbrad Foothills, close to the border to Silverpine.

It was nearly nightfall when Silas Kiernan returned to his small estate in the forests. Despite his salt and pepper hair and a face marked by laughter lines, his stride was still that of much younger man, and with bouncing steps he moved over roots and uneven ground. His brown eyes, however, glinted with concern.

These were dangerous times. The forest was crawling with hungry beasts, and there had been rumours of footpads preying on travellers. But it was not his own wellbeing that Silas worried about. His son Ardren had recently moved to Soutshore to enlist in the military, and now there was no one left to protect his daughter Isabelle when Silas was called from their secluded home. Thankfully, the sturdy denizens of the farmsteads along the foothills rarely required his services as a healer. And it was on even rarer occassions that he returned from his duties at such a late hour.

Old fool, Silas thought. Your little girl is nearing on her sixteenth birthday, and still you can’t bear to leave her out of your sight. If she knew you’re acting like a mother hen, she would either laugh or scold you. And you’d probably deserve both! But is it not a father’s right to worry about his children?

He shook his head, allowing himself a smile as he headed along the path towards the front porch.

***


„Isabelle! I’m home! I’m sorry it took me so long. You know how stubborn old Henry Wilson can be, and I had to convince him to-“ Silas furrowed his brow. He closed the door behind him and put his knapsack down, then peered into the small kitchen that also served them as a living room. Even though candles had been lit and water was boiling in a kettle over the stove, there was no sight of his daughter. „Isabelle?“

How strange – she usually was very cautious with fire in the house, and never left without blowing the candles out first. Silas tried to ignore the dull feeling in the pit of he stomach as he walked from room to room, hoping to find a trace of the girl. There were signs that Isabelle had been here not too long ago, doing her household chores like on every other day. Moist clothes were hanging on a line, and both their beds were made tidily. Everything seemed normal…and yet Silas could not shake off this strange foreboding, the feeling of an unwelcome presence in the house.

He was just about to go back outside to look for her in the nightly garden, as he heard a sc!*#%!# sound that seemed to come from upstairs, followed by a muffled scream. The library! Calling out his daughter, Silas ran across the corridor and raced up the spiral staircase that lead to the heart of the house, the vast library that took up almost the entire upper floor. Tearing the door open, he nearly stumbled over the porch and had to hold on to the door frame to prevent himself from falling.

„Father?“ Isabelle blinked, her face bearing an expression of surprise as she turned around. She held the remaints of a tea cup, a heap of white porcelain shards. „Is anything wrong? I hope poor old Henry is alright, because you look like you’ve just seen a ghost!“

Silas shook his head and straightened his back, trying to save what little dignity he had left. What a fool he had made of himself! „I…heard a noise and a scream, sweetheart. I thought you had been hurt.“

„Oh, no, father! I was just being my usual clumsy self and dropped a cup. But it’s nothing, I did not even cut myself.“ Isabelle put the shards on a small table nearby and gave her father a bright smile that she knew would put his mind at ease. „But look, we have a guest! Father, this is Master Solanar. Imagine, he came all the way from Stormwind just to see your library!“

It was then that Silas noticed for the first time the tall, slender figure standing by one of the book shelves near the window. He was clad in a nightblue travelling cloak, and his gloved hands held a cup with steaming tea. Pointed ears protruded from black hair that fell freely over his shoulders, and his face was dominated by the characteristic blue eyes of the high elven people. The stranger raised his cup in greeting, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

„Good evening, Master Kiernan. I apologize for my unannounced visit - it appears the letter I wrote you got lost on the way out here.“ He spoke with a musical tone, his Common laced with a slight Thalassian accent. „But your charming daughter welcomed me into your home regardless, and was even so kind to show me around in your famous library. I hope you do not mind?“

Silas noticed how Isabelle blushed as the stranger called her charming, and she seemed to hang on his lips as he spoke, her blue eyes almost glassy. His fatherly instincts came to life again, but instantly he reminded himself of his earlier faux pas. {i]Let her have a little crush on this windbag,[/i] he thought. She's young, and it’s bad enough she grows up so isolated out here. This puppy love will surely do no harm.

And so he extended a hand at the stranger, offering him hospitality with this simple gesture.

"Welcome to my home, young man."

[ Post edited by Caedryn ]

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PostSubject: Re: [RP-Story] Rites of Passage - by Caedryn   Thu Jan 21, 2010 4:06 pm

The girl was a gift from fate.

In the days that Caedryn spent in the Kiernan household, Isabelle followed him around like a whelp, constantly talking and pestering him with questions. Patiently, he explained to her the finer points of elven culture: Yes, it was true that elven magi enchanted brooms so they would sweep the streets on their own. Yes, elven rangers could indeed hit a flying bird in the eye. No, his own glowing eyes unfortunately did not allow him to read in the dark. He was grateful that she never asked about Stormwind, his supposed home.

To his own surprise, he did not find her company all that unpleasant. Although she had the coarse looks of a country girl, her mind seemed to be sharp and her keen sense of humour brought a genuine smile to his lips more than once. Like himself, she used books to escape a dull and often somber reality. In his old life before the war, when he had been a guileless shop keeper, he could have befriended her despite their different heritage. In some way, she almost reminded him of his younger sister Faediya, who had died in the Scourge attack on Quel’Thalas. But these were thoughts Caedryn brushed swiftly aside. In the here and now, he was a soldier on enemy territory…and Isabelle was an instrument he would use to prove himself worthy of Knighthood. Once he had completed his task, this human girl and her father would be dead.

While Isabelle was easily beguiled by friendly words, her father was a much harder nut to crack. The old man was oblivious to the true nature of his elven guest, yet Caedryn often felt his wary gaze upon him. Master Flamewrath had warned him that members of the clergy, even low ranking ones such as Silas, were sometimes able to sense Fel magic on a person. The Orb of Deception had hidden the green glow of his eyes behind the softer blue of their cowardly high elven cousins. But not even the magical disguise or the painful abstinence Caedryn had subjected himself to had been enough to get rid of the taint that surrounded him like a scent.

In the end, people only see what they want to see, Caedryn mused, and he hoped the lies he had woven were plausible enough to grant him some more time. He had introduced himself to his human hosts as Telias Solanar, the young apprentice of a renowned Stormwind based bookbinder, who had recently set on a journey through the Eastern Kingdoms to learn more about his craft. The Kiernan library, which sheltered a variety of ancient scriptures and tomes of a mostly religious nature, was a probable destination, as it attracted book lovers and scholars throughout the year.

But that’s not the only thing you are safeguarding here, old man. The elf tapped against his lips with an index finger as he glanced down the orderly row of books on a shelf. Somewhere in this moldy hut, you hide a much more valuable treasure. And I’m determined to find and destroy it in the name of Silvermoon and our Prince.

[ Post edited by Caedryn ]

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