I'm gonna punch that dragon in the face!

Into the Next Expansion...

I was looking through my archives today and I found these. My beloved and I have played together for five years now and I thought I'd share some sentimental screenshots:

Lunette & Lunarius | 2005 | World of Warcraft (Vanilla)


Lunette & Lunarius | 2006 | World of Warcraft (Vanilla)


Taceo & Nikolaos | 2007 | WoW: Burning Crusade


Taceo & Nikolaos | 2008 | WoW: Burning Crusade


Lunarius & Lunette | 2009 | WoW: Wrath of the Lich King


Nikolaos & Taceo | 2009 | WoW: Wrath of the Lich King


Happy World-of-Warcraft-Expansion-Release-Day! I hope this one is the most legendary yet.

...Perturbatio est vitae essentia.

Greyer's Theme

Oh the werewolf, oh the werewolf
Comes stepping along
He don't even break the branches where he's gone
Once I saw him in the moonlight, when the bats were a-flying
I saw the werewolf, and the werewolf was crying . . .
"Werewolf" - Cat Power

Grateful on Turkey Day

Happy Turkey Day from2 Elves & a Human!

What're we thankful for? Let us count...

Veton is thankful for: Family (aka Uncle Craetes, Zilaara, and Elodi). Her best friends - Goruth, Celenah, Spat, Lyconis, and Ealenia. Mana totems. Strike, her snowy gryphon & Gust, her pet moth. Romulus and Remus. Reliable and ever-encouraging guildmates. Affordable Dalaran housing room rates. Beautiful jewelry and the jewelcrafters who design and sell them. Skillful blacksmiths. The strength of the Draenei and Naaru, the ways of her people and their spirit of survival.

Whimsi is thankful for: Tumnus, her loyal feline companion. The vigilant Lady Sylvanas and the undying Forsaken. The balance of the Light and the Shadow. The colors blue and purple. Prayers and kind souls. History and Alchemy books. Levitation spells. Zombie, her noble steed. Bats. Tigule and Foror's Strawberry Ice Cream. Deathknell. Ghost wolves. Undertaker Mordo, Dark Cleric Duesten, Azonifel, and Winterr. Shiniesss. Dank, abandoned tombs.

Tabijin is thankful for: Family, The Stonetusk Tribe, who ensured his survival. Toombah - who saved his daughter. Reser - his only daughter and only reason to wake up every single day. Zabeni - his wife, who had always made him proud. Ayden - who keeps him busy enough to stave off his worries. The Shadow of Paragon - trusty business partners and reliable traders. Hex - Zabeni's pet tiger, who continues his search for his master's belongings in Ashenvale. Terra - his steadfast raptor companion. Lady Taceo - who continues to fund his makeshift "goods shop." Orgrimmar and its colorful inhabitants. The hardships and carefree times which have made him the haggard troll he is today.

Taceo is thankful for: Her parents and their unconditional love and support. Nikolaos - her best friend, fiance and better half. Grymtohr, Berien, Eal', Dalem, Rhathgryn, Rokur, and Laceraito - awesome companions and fellow adventurers (For the HORDE!). SCRRAWL Club! Successful raids. The Horde. Lucius and Zoom. Sturdy shields, sharp weapons, sturdy tanks, and watchful healers. Mana potions. Dalaran food and lodging. Matching armor.

Greyer is thankful for: Being able to wake up every morning. His family - Mother, Father, Faolan, and Farran - even though they are no longer with him. The Lyall Tannery, its legacy, and the safety it offers each night. Spritzer, the young bartender who helped maintain his sanity. Atalanta, his unforgettable childhood friend and sweetheart (even if her heart may ultimately belong to someone else). The pride of Gilneas and the indestructible qualities of its force and kingdom. Veton, who was a constant companion (on the other side of the Gates) for the better part of six months after his mother had died.

Lunette is thankful for: Her husband - Lunarius - and her children - Atellus, Moone, Gardien, and the late Astaire. Her adopted daughter - Adaven the orphan Rogue. Trusty companions Larodath, Yente, Yurriot, Cauthon, and Aschen. Gooa - that once pesky mage who taught her what it took to survive in PvP. Her guild - Unearthed - and its remarkable ability to be prosperous and homely. Her frostsabers - January and Seventeen. The Druids of Moonglade and their support.

Winterr is thankful for: Her herd and tribe, who maintain their undying faith in her every single season since her Coming-of-Age Ceremony. The ways of the Druid and the Earthmother who has blessed her in several ways this past year. The Horde and their warchief, who have honored her services in battle. Those who have coached her on her journey to become a Feral Druid. Whimsi, her unexpected Undead pen pal and fellow botanist.

{...} is thankful for: Greyer and his consideration of not hogging the spotlight... The reforging of alliance with the Horde and the freedom they brought. Pockets full of gold. Technology and good business. The Lost Isles. Security. The sacrifice her younger brother had made to ensure her survival during the naval crossfire that would change the fate of the Goblins of Kezan. Hair accessories, jewelcrafters, and awesome deals on much needed items.

Rese is thankful for: Lunarius and Nikolaos (and the awesome man who makes them the best battle companions ever). Family members who tolerate her love of these pixelated beings and their made-up stories. Ventrilo. Blizzard and the game/s that started it all. Epic guildmates and friends - Sam, Derek, Tony, Matt, Amy, Bob, Mike, Sean, and Dustin. And - of course - Lunette, Taceo, Whimsi, Greyer, Tabijin, Veton, Winterr, Wyler, {...}, and the world they live in.

Happy Hallow's Eve, once more.

May the Headless Horseman be generous tonight
and your backpacks full of epic loot.

Atalanta: A Rambling

Very few know me for the young lad I was once. My mother used to boast about how I could have any lady in the kingdom - even though there was only one woman I deftly pursued. But now all they see is the bitter, cold recluse who wanders from the tannery to the local shops once a week - a man left with nothing but memories, whose family and loved ones have vanished by means of the Curse. Once, there was an eligible bachelor who wanted nothing more than to manage his own business and raise a family of his very own. He is no longer there. The opportunity to obtain these two simple aspects of life, I fear, has long since passed; and, it flew with the simple flick of her hand.

A refusal.

A rejection.

Atalanta.

Ridiculously stubborn, ever-challenging since we were introduced as childhood playmates, unbelievably finicky, albeit genuinely charming.

Everything she was, she was opposite me. Whereas I was all for traditions, she'd rejuvenate old ways into something fresh; and, where I was proper and rule-abiding, she tested the boundaries [and, vice versa, mind you].

If only I had initially kept the promise to keep the Lyall Tannery in business.
If only I weren't so hellbent, and she weren't so persnickety.
If only this Curse hadn't changed me, changed us.

What a pair of Lyall's we could have been.

Could have been.

Year by Year

Greyer - Age Meme by ~radhatter on deviantART

At last, the whole of Azeroth will break...

Update; everyone's probably freaking out now... well, Taceo could possibly be chasing that trail of soot across the sky.

Adding Character: Wardrobe

My [or, rather, Conri's!] Gilneas Boys [L-R]: Twins Faolan & Farran and Greyer Lyall
One thing I love about Warcraft characters is their clothing. Mages and Priests wear robes, flowy garments as Warriors and Paladins wear plate armor; a low-level character might have been recruited into the Horde or Alliance with just the clothes on their back; Rogues wear leather, and perhaps only carry what they can to eliminate anything snagging onto them as they sneak around... An auctioneer might not wear "battle gear" and instead wear something flashy as they go about their business to and from the auction house.

With the introduction of the Worgen, I had a thought:

What does a Gilnean wear?

According to WoWWiki:
Gilneans, the inhabitants of Gilneas, are burly, and their costumes, weapons, architecture and accents have great Victorian connotations. With the environment, echoing 19th century London, gear might be fitted to withstand heavy rain and wind. (source)

Thus, I came up with this little list (and it has helped me a whole lot with acquainting myself with Greyer, my soon-to-be Worgen rogue):

• Gentleman's Emporium
  
• Ladie's Emporium
  
• Steampunk Emporium (perfect for LWers & engineers)
  
• Victoriana
  
• Camillus-Fly's DeviantArt Gallery (excellent source of vintage photos)
  
• Quaddles' DeviantArt Gallery (Victorian Men, Women, Groups & Children photos!)
  
• Outland Armour (custom Fantasy/Steampunk Costumes)
  
• Victorian Men (Unknown magazine photoshoot)
  
• Might add more if I find 'em...

Greyer's Box

Yes, Mr. Lyall is late to the Time Capsule party.

Imagine that you have a box, and inside the box are seven items that perfectly describe your character. From their thoughts, ambitions, history, physical characteristics, etc. You can even go into detail on what KIND of box that your seven items are in.

Greyer's Box:
A medium-sized, wooden box. Though the wood is stained a rich chocolate hue, signs of wear are apparent on every edge. Its lid bears the Lyall family crest and is fastened by pewter hinges. A tarnished silver keyhole adorns the front; there are large, shallow scratches - presumably claw marks - on the top, bottom and backside between the hinges.

1. ] A steel [wolf head] ring
   
2. ] A worn family portrait
   
3. ] A sharp skinning knife
   
4. ] A silver cameo pendant
   
5. ] The deed to the Lyall Tannery
   
6. ] A keyring with two unique keys
   
7. ] A gold pocketwatch [still ticking, with matching chain]

Why Greyer is 'grey'...

Since I've been without WOW for a while, I launched my Dogz 4 program again and amidst trying to breed the perfect "hunting dog" [large pointed ears for tracking, stunning iris color in contrast to dark fur, long legs], I came up with the idea of tracing the Lyall family tree.

...if they had all been Worgen, I suspect they'd be as such canine-wise [please pay no mind to the tails, they're just more traditional lupine/"werewolfish" in the program]:

• Eldest siblings to the left and youngest to the right.
  
• Running family traits: Smooth/Ragged ears, Sleek/Rough pelt, Brown (common)/Green (uncommon)/Teal eyes (rare), naming tributes to ancestors/grandparents (why there are so many Lottie's and Lily's and Lillian's in this family, I'll never know... it was a popular name in the Victorian Era though)
  
• The collars were meant to signify where the wealth in the family went or came from; apparently I lost track somewhere and it turned out Greyer's parents and grandparents seemed to work out into some sort of 'middle class' standing anyway
  
• Twins run in this family on Greyer's mother's side - Remus/Eliza Jane Whitaker (Conri's older siblings) and Faolan/Farran Lyall (Greyer's older brothers)
  
• Why Greyer actually came out with a bluer coat than his brothers, I couldn't explain... None of the pictures in this file have been changed; these are the raw bitmap captures from the Petz program (just all compiled together).

click to enlarge

Given that Gilneas was a prosperous society once the walls were put up and they were self-sufficient, I suspected that the Lyall family was rather large (and therefore only traced the line directly to Greyer; of course, Arthur August Lyall's four siblings would have had families of their own).

On the other hand, Lillian Rose Barnes is related to Elodi Barnes (aka "Whimsi") to some degree that I'm not aware of.

A Dawn without Rain

Monsieur Lyall... contemplating a moment in the early morning hours. Yes, he is sporting the "Duelist" shave.

Often there is blood...

Inkstrokes and Blood: Pt. 2

Inkstrokes and Blood: Pt. 1

answers are written all over your face

[Originally composed January 16th, 2010; aka "the popcorn entry." "__________" is a young adult, female goblin; Greyer's expansion counterpart.]

Whimsi [on Worgen]: PUPPIES!

Taceo [on Greyer]: I'd really love to meet him, as far as his personality goes, I'd love to see if he's just as he sounds. I mean, I've read up on Gilnean society wherever I can steal books or scrolls and have them translated, and those humans are just fascinating. Greyer sounds like the type of guy I'd love to have as my nemesis.

Greyer [on Taceo]: Blood elves aren't exactly the type I'd socialize with; even if they spoke Common, well, just... no. This... Lady Taceo I keep hearing out and about, scraping her sword and shield and screaming hysterically outside the gate. Light help me...

Veton [on Spritzer]: He's very kind young man. When I spent one evening at the gate, I just happened to see him there when I was passing through, and he asked politely if I had any food. I split a wedge of cheese with him and we shared a few cornbread pieces. He was once a bartender for one of the pubs, but he was supposedly smoked out when he was spotted hanging out with some rogue named Lyall. I still feel so bad for leaving him there, he wanted to come away with me.

Greyer [on rogues]: Yes, I did review some public polls and I heard that most people are "rolling" Worgen rogues. Sure, let them, but tell me this, can they survive? Pick locks to escape certain death... memorize the flora required for efficient poisons? Have they ever tried to escape the kingdom unseen only to be foiled at the very last moment? Heh, tell me that.

Tabijin [on goblins]: *grumbles.*

Taceo [on goblins]: Pointy ears, cunning and witty, quite different than the rest of the Horde identities, like... Blood Elves... I think we'll get along just fine.

Greyer [on Spritzer]: Heh, that kid is undoubtedly something else. His company is tolerable, though his hopes of finding a cure for this curse is absolutely ridiculous.

Spritzer [on Greyer]: Greyer is... well... what can I say? He took me in and he's taught me a bit about surviving and not feeling so bad about losing my job. He also taught me how to duel with a sword. He's not an optimist though, which is fine since I guess one could say that I compliment him nicely. Like, what were their names...? Um, "Batman and Robin"? Heh... Maybe?

__________ [on the Alliance]: Armor up and brace yourselves, FOR THE HORDE, BABY!

Greyer [on "__________"] Seriously, Rese? You made her my expansion counterpart? I beg your pardon?! I was informed I would be taking the reins from the event of 'the Cataclysm' and onward.

__________ [on Greyer] Hey, bub, you gotta problem wit' me? YOU GOTTA PROBLEM WIT' ME?! *jabs a long-nailed finger into his shoulder* Back it up.

Taceo [on "__________"] FINALLY! Someone who knows what's going on!

Lunette [on WoW: Cataclsym] Rese... What about ME?! Q_Q

Whimsi [...]: PUPPIES?

Tabijin [...]: 'ave yeh seen mah daughtah?

__________ [on Tabijin] I'm really feelin' this guy... I lost my buddy on that ship back on the coast so I know what it's like to not have someone who understands me, knows me, in my life... anymore. Wherever he is now, I hope he's okay. As for this ol' crow here, I already love 'im. He's actually very sweet once you get past the craziness.

Pieces of Greyer

I've had some of these "forever," and I can't seem to complete them. They're just little snippets of paragraphs that kinda run dilly-dally all over my mind when I'm idle.

February 4th, 2010
It had been months since Greyer and Ata last met in the clearing, when she had sent a horde of vengeful citizens his direction with blazing torches. This was nothing like he had imagined, this... curse... By now, he had assumed other canines had populated the kingdom and it had spread much faster than he had expected - outbreaks of anger and the determination to rid the population of the monsters had fizzled into whispers of fear and pleads for help. The other night Spritzer had returned to the tannery with news that the kingdom's general store never opened for business at daybreak and the door bore several claw marks. The flour sacks that had ripped open, littered the floor with signs of struggle - and large canine-like tracks. Greyer simply shook his head at the youth, muttering that if the kingdom wanted to survive something as strange as this pandemic, Greymane would have to seek aid.

May 13th, 2010
This was it, the desperate cries for help had been answered. Those who fight under the banner of the Alliance reach out with concern and observe with skeptical eyes, and several of us - Worgen - extend waves upon waves of gratitude to them. Spritzer and I can only watch, unwavering and unfazed, keeping the hand that the Light - perhaps, simply Fate - has dealt us. Though the young bartender's eyes were seemingly dull and clouded over, he couldn't help but to question the silhouettes of pacing frostsabers.

May 16th, 2010
Greyer Lyall couldn't sleep. Monstrous howls woven with the gusts of wind occupied the spaces where thunder ceased to roll; and, when the storm calmed and the winds died, an eerie silence paved way for the sound of restless rain.

June 2nd, 2010
"You are impossible, Greyer!" she scoffed.
"Don't you see what is happening out there, Ata? It's a pandemic, the whole kingdom is succumbing to this monstrosity. It is a curse, there is no cure!"
Atalanta crossed her arms, "Have you any hope?"
The gray-haired gentleman's brows knitted together, and in one swift movement, he raised a hand, swiping it across his childhood sweetheart's cheek.

June 10th, 2010
"You can't tell me to be human!" he roared. "Who do you think you are?! You think you understand this, this chaos, this monstrosity that has been bestowed upon us? How dare you." She diverted her gaze away from his disheveled figure, "You aren't all that you say you are, I see more than that."
"Get the hell away from me, Rese. The next time I even hear you approach the Lyall Tannery again, I swear I'll attack you."
"But, what about Spritzer?"
"Spritzer could destroy you."
"You can't speak to me that way, Greyer Lyall, I--"
"OUT!!"

Wyler the Priest

Name: Wyler Pius Victor
Pronunciation: why-luhr
Title: N/A
Nickname(s): Wy
Age: 30 mortal years
Gender: Male
Height: 5 ft. 9 in.
Weight: 109 lbs.
Skin: Alabaster white
Hair: Light brown
Eyes: Iridescent
Concept Date: April 26, 2010
Birthdate: ?
Birthplace: Lordaeron, The Eastern Kingdoms
Faction: Horde
Race: Undead/Forsaken
Alignment: Neutral Good

Guild: None
Allies: Barian, Rhathgryn
Family: None he is aware of...
Weapons: Staves, wands, 1h maces
Pet(s): Tenet the Cockroach
Occupation: Scribe, Botanist
Hobbies: Writing, reading, meditating/praying

Known Favorites: Mageroyal
Known Dislikes: Spiders

Character in 3 Words: Devout, Loud, Finicky.

History: While alive, Wyler had always said he had been blessed. He had been accepted as a missionary for the Church of Holy Light, done well in his classes towards priesthood, and had fully achieved the understanding and teachings of the Light's Virtues - respect, tenacity, and compassion.

Personality: Wyler is, in essence, a fanatic. His every move, every thought, is supposedly guided by the Light. While he frowns upon those who stop to stare at the sight of his decaying body, he often offers a prayer for those who give him a shiny copper coin.

Appearance: A bony corpse is all that remains of Wyler. Treacherous traveling while getting used to his new life after death has made the flesh around his elbows, toes, and knees unpleasantly fall off. His scalp was now bare, bereft of the thick chocolate locks that used to adorn it; he claims that the mice who had inhabited his crypt had found use for it in their nests. Thick stitches adorn his crown and temple where a "new" scalp has replaced his once-shaved head. When he first awoke in Deathknell, his jaw had gone missing, perhaps even stolen by a fellow priest who had come around before him. He eventually remedied the situation by visiting the Brill graveyard, stealing a mandible from a lifeless corpse that had been robbed of its possessions. His clothes are often ripped and unraveling; having been brought back to "life" has convinced him that looks aren't exactly everything.

A rather large cockroach can often be seen on his figure or at his feet - wherever he goes, she is never too far behind. Usually, she has to be dislodged from his body...

The bony, reanimated horse he travels upon is tall and spindly, lovingly dubbed "Bishop." A simple ragged halter with blinders and reins, as well as a worn saddle, garnish his pallid frame. Every now and then Wyler covers his [intact] back with a frayed blanket to protect him from maggots and other pests.

A large backpack, if not seen hanging from Bishop's saddle is often seen hanging from Wyler's shoulders. However, if undergoing a mission to cleanse an area, Wyler carries a simple, multi-pocket satchel from his belt. Among other knick-knacks that he totes around, a wand is often tucked into his robes, as well as a pocket prayer book.

Quirks:

• His name means "wheel maker."
  
• Tenet, Wyler's pet cockroach, has been with him since he was awoken in Deathknell. She had made herself a cozy home in his ribcage, and frankly refuses to leave.
  
• He reached lvl 20 in 20 hours, 55 minutes.
  
• His loyal steed was possibly a palomino...once.

Soundtrack:
01 | Era - Hymne
02 | Enigma - Traces (Light and Weight)
03 | X-Ray Dog - Come My Son
04 | X-Ray Dog - The Prophet
05 | Enigma - Endless Quest
06 | Era - The Mass
07 | Howard Shore - The Prophecy

I Play WOW

Greyer in Graphite - Part 2

Click to enlarge

10 hours of work put in [thus far]. About 6 different types of graphite pencils and 2 erasers. 18 in x 24 in.

Greyer in Graphite - Part 1

You've seen him in a stylized vector form and cartoon-ified into "one of the gang", now here he is being fleshed out in the first stages of the final project for my Rendering and Illustration class... Really need to fix his hairline, lol.

WTB interesting stuff

Yeah, yeah... I know. ¬_¬;

Veton's 4 month Anniversary

So proud of her. :) Look at how much she's grown;
ready for Northrend, too.

A Call to Arms

Gloria! Honorifice!
Glory! Honor!
Pralium facio.
Join the battle.
Animus!
Courage!
Gradio quo prodo!
By marching into death, we are delivered!
Inexcelsis precedo.
Excellence in the highest.
Bellator decerte
Warriors will fight to the death
Adversa
against all enemies.
Incurro, invadoria!
Attack, invade!
Desideratus fatum!
Welcome to your destiny!
Desideratus bellum!
Welcome to the war!

Click here for YouTube video/song!

NE Rogue

► Name: Atellus
► Status: Temporary; practice for Greyer
► Server: Moon Guard
► Server Type: RP
► Time[s]: as early as 8 pm PST / 10 pm server time {TB and Moon Guard share time}

If for some reason, anyone needs a tank/healer, PLEASE feel free to shoot me a whisper {if I'm not in the SoP vent} if you'd like to group up or something.

I need an escape; to be honest, I'm in some sort of dark hole right now trying to get out of it.

Thanks,
- Rese

Show Me the Way

Fire your guns,
It's time to run.
Blow me away
(I will stay in the mess I made)
After the fall,
We'll shake it off.
Show me the way.

Only the strongest will survive,
Lead me to heaven when we die;
I am the shadow on the wall,
I'll be the one to save us all...

Breaking Benjamin - "Blow me Away"

Welcome back, Lady Morntreader.

----------------
Now playing: Breaking Benjamin - Blow Me Away
via FoxyTunes

...and so you stand...

...just as I left you; and, that makes me glad.

Truth

i miss coming home to a vent chat full of people, complaining about tanking, whining about gear, being concerned over sloppy pulls and wiping in raids, my 'tankadin training', counting emblems, and freaking out over killing the tiger boss in ZG...

it keeps my mind from falling apart as it is in its current state.

i hope to hear/see you all soon.

RP Table: Whimsi

Whimsi smiled as she scanned the horizon from Krasus' Landing. "Beautiful isn't it, Tumnus?" she said dreamily, speaking to the broad-striped tabby at her feet. The feline rubbed himself against her calves, his loose fur sticking to the woolen material of her robe. Dalaran had easily impressed her beyond her expectations. The fountains were beautiful, the nightly fee at the inns were affordable, the vendors were pleasant, and there was always something happening wherever one went - just the other day, Tumnus scampered off after a poor engineer's pet mechanical squirrel, and as Whimsi managed to get a hold of the playful feline, the engineer simply smiled and accepted her panicked apology without a problem...

She propped her head up with a hand as the rhythm of approaching dragons reached her ears, eventually ruffling her hair and sleeve hems as they soared over her to land. A loud hiss erupted from Tumnus' chest and Whimsi bent down to pick him up, relaxing his feeble frame from its arched position. "Oh shush, Mr. Grumpy," she cooed. "It's just a pro-to-drake. No need to get all huffy." She planted a kiss between his ears, above his brilliant golden eyes, "So silly, Tumnus." He let out a low, irritated meow and she set him down.

It was a good thing she didn't return her gaze to the skyline or she would have missed Tumnus' spontaneous dart for the stairways that lead into the city. "Tumnus!" she gasped. "Get back here!" Sprinting after her pet, she watched as he stopped in front of a perky pug, his fur bristling along his arched back. Whimsi quickly snatched him into her arms, but before she could scamper off like nothing had happened, the pug growled and yipped, catching its owner's attention. The undead priest slowly looked from the finely crafted boots up to the fur-adorned leg patches, the gaudy buckled belt, the dented chest piece, the large pauldrons... With her head fully tilted upward, her eyes finally came to rest upon the sight of a large, fearsome horned helmet that contained two frosty blue eyes, both of which were glaring down at her. Her eyes widened and she swallowed nervously as a breath of hot air shot from a vertical mouth opening in the helm, vaporizing and drifting upward in the frost-bitten air, "S-Sorry, sir... er... heh, we'll... we'll be going now." She squeaked the last few words of her sentence, but nevertheless managed to run off with Tumnus in one piece. Again, Dalaran had proven to be one of the most interesting places to call "home."

RP Table: Tabijin

The White Lady and Blue Child hung listlessly in the night sky. With his usual pile of mail and packages tucked away in his tattered messenger bag, the old troll sat atop one of the large boulders before the grand gate of Orgrimmar. He let out a ragged sigh, his shoulders sagging forward as he hunched over, setting his elbows on his knees.

Months... No, years... of waiting for a word of his only daughter's whereabouts had finally run its course and, without the flame his soul once harbored, he realized there was nothing left. He blinked several times, fighting the tears that he had never allowed himself to weep. The monocle that framed his right eye fell from his face, dangling from its chain. His right hand reached out and tucked the fragile object into his vest pocket.

"Well," he began, addressing his departed wife with a few sniffles, "what now, Zabeni?" The gentle Durotar breeze whisked past him as if responding to his question. A tear fell down his wrinkled blue cheek and he buried his face in his hands. Wiping his cheeks on the back of his right hand, his gaze lifted to the stars, unsure of what to think. He opened his mouth again but before he could even utter a word, a white feather brushed the tip of his long, crooked nose before landing in his lap. His scarlet red eyes struggled to focus for a moment as he brought the soft object to his face. "Wha-what do you mean?" he tilted his head. The wind blew past him once more, snatching the feather from his fingertips.

The breeze whistled in his ears before dying again. Let go.

Reluctantly, he shook his head, his large pointed ears swaying. "I... I can't." He grimaced and sighed, deciding to get up and head to the vault to sort the mail that awaited his undivided attention. Though, as he bent down to pick up his messenger bag, another white feather rested on the torn flap. He reached down to pick it up, but again the wind carried it away from his grasp. Watching it lift high above him and over the city walls, he slung his bag strap onto a bony shoulder. He closed his eyes as the breeze caressed his face, rustling his long sleeves and tousled white hair.

"I love you, too," he breathed, opening his eyes again. "Thank you."

RP Table: Greyer

The rocky seaside was possibly one of the worst places a kingdom could settle on. Cold, frostbitten winters announced their arrivals with seemingly endless days of rain, and continued on in that fashion until the weather allowed a beam of sunshine or a plain cloudy day. Greyer ran his cold fingers through his mousy brown hair, slicking it back. Taking his pipe from his inner vest pocket, he placed it in his mouth, but didn't bother with lighting it - the sheets of rain cascading from the sky would have made it impossible, and even attempts of shielding a flame from the downpour would not save it from the wind.

He shrugged, continuing to lean against the side of city hall. Being around society again was refreshing, he hated to admit. Their fear was almost exhilarating, just watching them scurry to and fro in the rain made him grin. "Good evening, Mister Thewlis." He gave a nod in salutation as the gentleman walked past, keeping his hold on his top hat as he greeted Greyer with a slight smile and a cautionary statement about getting indoors and out of the rain. Greyer smiled in return and shook his head as the man continued on his way down the cobblestone path.

The wind began to pick up, causing the candlelit lanterns to swing from their hooks. He took this as a sign to get up and head back to the family tannery, his current place of residence. After casting a backward glance at the city hall, he weaved his way around the lamp posts, a little skip in his step. When he arrived to the small shoppe, Spritzer - the young bartender who had recently become his constant evening companion - was already at the door, apparently eager for his return. "Locked out again?" he chuckled, pulling an iron key from his trouser pocket. The youth nodded, shivering. "Get in," he smiled, placing a hand on Spritzer's shoulder and nudging him over the threshold. "Guess I'll have Fenrir make a duplicate key for you tomorrow morning." Spritzer prodded at the logs in the fireplace with a thick twig before successfully getting them to catch flame. As Greyer removed his thick coat and hung it by the door, the evening ritual of settling down for the night began; and, as the bartender climbed into Faolan's old bed, Greyer slipped into his bedroom.

Closing the door behind him, he watched as several pieces of paper hanging from the walls fluttered. He lit the oil lamps around the room with caution before sitting down at his desk, continuing his research about the Curse that had fallen over the kingdom he had once loved.

[I know this piece doesn't have much to tell, but well, I wanted to share the design of it, and, perhaps confirm that Greyer and Spritzer aren't camping by the gates like they were in previous story drafts, but staying in the Lyall Tannery - the family shoppe. I guess it kinda shows Greyer's "gentler" side as well, if anything.]

a photo.

...wrote to someone regarding the state of the Lyall family tannery, claiming that I wanted to buy it. These came back in response.



[Vintage Photo credit]