Post by Annalira Delshannon on Feb 8, 2007 2:18:53 GMT -5
The pressures of the Outland are wearing on me.
Ever since I have gone through the portal, it is almost as though I can hear the demons in my head – calling me, pushing me away from my family, my life. I find myself calling upon the arts of shadow now, when every other aspect has failed. They are strange spells, but powerful – and I am loath to use them. But there is so much there that needs work, so many that need healing, so many that need to be defended. And so I have pressed on, in spite of myself.
But now – I have gotten a vacation. A brief respite, yes, but a welcome one. I have the pleasure to return home to my family in Hillsbrad for my younger sister’s wedding. The flight is long, and the riding longer. Darby seems to know his way though, and to know that he is going home for a rest, and so I ride through several nights stopping only for a few hours to rest.
Everyone is there at the farm, I think – even my little nephew Jaron. My poor Da, having all 5 of his daughters in the house at once, doesn’t seem to know where to go but smiles anyway at having his family home. Mum is, as expected, constantly doing 15 things at once and ordering everyone around. She loves weddings though, as much as she’ll complain about all the work.
Jenna was a beautiful bride. She doesn’t have the red hair that Laira and I do, but she has the curls that only I of my sisters seem to have missed out on. Her dark hair looked so lovely down, with little crocuses and winter flowers braided in a crown for her veil. My new brother-in-law looked quite dashing too – they make a lovely pair. He is tall and fair; he works with Laira’s husband, breeding and taking care of the horses on Da’s farm. Supposedly they served together in the army with the Calvary, which explains their skill. The horses here have become very well known in this area. Darby certainly gets along with both of them, in spite of all the new horses in the stables. The weaving business is going well too, by the look of the new looms.
I arrived the day before the wedding, planning to stay for 4 nights, so after all of the festivities and the packing Jenna off to her honeymoon, I got the chance to spend time just helping around the farm. The everyday things – making bread, making beds, sweeping floors, listening to Da putter around out in the barn after the day’s work – it was so soothing. I am not the same girl that left here 6 years ago, before there was a war and plague. I suppose we are all different, but going home really shows me that. And yet – it’s still home.
Because of the wedding guests, I’m sharing a bedroom with my two youngest sisters – the only two that still live at home now, I suppose. Sari is going to be 15 soon, and Rachael just turned 13; almost grown girls. They certainly do their fair share of work around this place. Sitting on the floor talking, the night before I leave, Sari begins to weave her fingers around in the air, creating lights and little flashes of ice. Someday, she’ll be quite the powerful mage if she puts her mind to it. Rachael will probably stay on the farm like Laira has and Jenna will, or go off to be a warrior, if she gets my wanderlust. She’s the stronger of the two, headstrong and determined as well.
Turning out the lights, I mention Darby’s utter dislike of everything related to the morning and how tomorrow’s early ride will likely put me in bad graces with him. Silly horse. The two girls, however, steal sidelong glances at each other before nodding and suggesting I bring apples.
Early the next morning, even before dawn, I hear Mum up in the kitchen and Da getting ready for the day. My bags are packed for my return to the greater world, and I creep silently downstairs to join them for breakfast – eggs, biscuits, bacon, oatmeal, brown sugar – I don’t relish the idea of tavern or camp food much after this.
Da's eyes sparkle over the rim of his coffee cup at me, as he drains it it and suggests we go pack up my horse. Opening the door, however, I notice that Darby has company. Tethered to one of the fenceposts is an enormous chestnut mare, and my saddle and blankets are there next to her.
“We’ve had some pretty fantastic results with the horses since those two boys started working here” Da smiled at me. “Darby is a fantastic horse, but I have thought for awhile, from reading your letters, that we might find something a little more suited to the rough work that you’re doing.”
My jaw drops – this beautiful beast, a gift? I stammer something in reply, resembling thanks.
“No thanks needed – though I think you have two sisters who like riding and might enjoy getting to know your old gelding.” He winks at me and points at the doorway behind me. Sari and Rachael are there in their nightgowns, large eyes peering around the doorframe in the misty dawn.
I untie the ropes that have Darby tethered to the fence and give him a quick scratch between the ears. He has been a good horse – strong, if a little finicky (especially about water). He nudges my chin, and I think he understands. Turning, I lead him over to where Sari is standing, her boots sticking out from under her robe.
“Darby, this is Sari”
The great black nose sniffs my sister’s hand, and then her hair, before nudging at the pockets of her robe, looking for carrots. He is not disappointed. Sari grins, feeding him a few carrots. Quickly saying goodbye to her and Rachael – and Darby – the three of them head to the barn, great black horse with two white feet, utterly smitten by the two girls with carrots. He always was a sucker for pretty girls.
Turning back to the warhorse, I look over at my father. “What’s her name?”
“Dorothea.” He smiled. “We’ve taken to calling her Theo, or sometimes Dottie, after the star she has on her forehead. It looks more like a collection of spots than anything else.”
“I... thank you, Da.” He hugs me.
“You’re the only one of us out in the way of danger, and we’ve certainly been doing well with horses here. The local militia rides our horses as well. I think you’ll find that she’s quite up to anything you’ll put in front of her. She’s used to fighting too – her armor is there by the fence with her tack.”
Dottie is a few hands taller than Darby is – and considerably more powerful. Her dark mane stands up over her head like a mohawk though, giving her a roguish and rather comical air, no matter how dignified she attempts to look. Carefully noting the construction, I buckle her armor over her neck and back. It is well crafted – blue and gold. My saddle will last us long enough to get to Elwynn, but I need to get it repaired and refitted for the larger horse, which is probably good. That’s not too long of a trip, and we’ll be able to get used to each other before we have to face the unknowns of the other world.
A few days later, I find myself riding past the gates of Stormwind and through Elwynn Forest. Goldshire is as it has always been, and I do not linger long there – though Theo and I both enjoy a stop at the local faire. I’ve discovered that this new horse has rather an affection for alcohol… and she happily slugs down half a pint of Darkmoon Special Reserve from a bowl, as I gingerly drink the other half. It’s strong ale!
The riding master at the logging camp is happy to take and repair my saddle. He even updates some of the latchings and gives me a new blue and gold saddle blanket to match Dorothea’s armor. Confident in the new gear, I lead Dottie back out to the road, wishing fond farewells to the folk in Eastvale. I spent time here when I was training, and again here I feel at home.
But duty calls. Whether I am to heal or to fight, I must go back to those who are expecting me. My friends and comrades will have gone and done new things while I have been gone, and I can’t wait to hear the stories... and Dottie can’t wait to enjoy the ale!
((an IC reason for my 10 day gaming-vacation (aka honeymoon) and for Anna’s new epic mount))
Ever since I have gone through the portal, it is almost as though I can hear the demons in my head – calling me, pushing me away from my family, my life. I find myself calling upon the arts of shadow now, when every other aspect has failed. They are strange spells, but powerful – and I am loath to use them. But there is so much there that needs work, so many that need healing, so many that need to be defended. And so I have pressed on, in spite of myself.
But now – I have gotten a vacation. A brief respite, yes, but a welcome one. I have the pleasure to return home to my family in Hillsbrad for my younger sister’s wedding. The flight is long, and the riding longer. Darby seems to know his way though, and to know that he is going home for a rest, and so I ride through several nights stopping only for a few hours to rest.
Everyone is there at the farm, I think – even my little nephew Jaron. My poor Da, having all 5 of his daughters in the house at once, doesn’t seem to know where to go but smiles anyway at having his family home. Mum is, as expected, constantly doing 15 things at once and ordering everyone around. She loves weddings though, as much as she’ll complain about all the work.
Jenna was a beautiful bride. She doesn’t have the red hair that Laira and I do, but she has the curls that only I of my sisters seem to have missed out on. Her dark hair looked so lovely down, with little crocuses and winter flowers braided in a crown for her veil. My new brother-in-law looked quite dashing too – they make a lovely pair. He is tall and fair; he works with Laira’s husband, breeding and taking care of the horses on Da’s farm. Supposedly they served together in the army with the Calvary, which explains their skill. The horses here have become very well known in this area. Darby certainly gets along with both of them, in spite of all the new horses in the stables. The weaving business is going well too, by the look of the new looms.
I arrived the day before the wedding, planning to stay for 4 nights, so after all of the festivities and the packing Jenna off to her honeymoon, I got the chance to spend time just helping around the farm. The everyday things – making bread, making beds, sweeping floors, listening to Da putter around out in the barn after the day’s work – it was so soothing. I am not the same girl that left here 6 years ago, before there was a war and plague. I suppose we are all different, but going home really shows me that. And yet – it’s still home.
Because of the wedding guests, I’m sharing a bedroom with my two youngest sisters – the only two that still live at home now, I suppose. Sari is going to be 15 soon, and Rachael just turned 13; almost grown girls. They certainly do their fair share of work around this place. Sitting on the floor talking, the night before I leave, Sari begins to weave her fingers around in the air, creating lights and little flashes of ice. Someday, she’ll be quite the powerful mage if she puts her mind to it. Rachael will probably stay on the farm like Laira has and Jenna will, or go off to be a warrior, if she gets my wanderlust. She’s the stronger of the two, headstrong and determined as well.
Turning out the lights, I mention Darby’s utter dislike of everything related to the morning and how tomorrow’s early ride will likely put me in bad graces with him. Silly horse. The two girls, however, steal sidelong glances at each other before nodding and suggesting I bring apples.
Early the next morning, even before dawn, I hear Mum up in the kitchen and Da getting ready for the day. My bags are packed for my return to the greater world, and I creep silently downstairs to join them for breakfast – eggs, biscuits, bacon, oatmeal, brown sugar – I don’t relish the idea of tavern or camp food much after this.
Da's eyes sparkle over the rim of his coffee cup at me, as he drains it it and suggests we go pack up my horse. Opening the door, however, I notice that Darby has company. Tethered to one of the fenceposts is an enormous chestnut mare, and my saddle and blankets are there next to her.
“We’ve had some pretty fantastic results with the horses since those two boys started working here” Da smiled at me. “Darby is a fantastic horse, but I have thought for awhile, from reading your letters, that we might find something a little more suited to the rough work that you’re doing.”
My jaw drops – this beautiful beast, a gift? I stammer something in reply, resembling thanks.
“No thanks needed – though I think you have two sisters who like riding and might enjoy getting to know your old gelding.” He winks at me and points at the doorway behind me. Sari and Rachael are there in their nightgowns, large eyes peering around the doorframe in the misty dawn.
I untie the ropes that have Darby tethered to the fence and give him a quick scratch between the ears. He has been a good horse – strong, if a little finicky (especially about water). He nudges my chin, and I think he understands. Turning, I lead him over to where Sari is standing, her boots sticking out from under her robe.
“Darby, this is Sari”
The great black nose sniffs my sister’s hand, and then her hair, before nudging at the pockets of her robe, looking for carrots. He is not disappointed. Sari grins, feeding him a few carrots. Quickly saying goodbye to her and Rachael – and Darby – the three of them head to the barn, great black horse with two white feet, utterly smitten by the two girls with carrots. He always was a sucker for pretty girls.
Turning back to the warhorse, I look over at my father. “What’s her name?”
“Dorothea.” He smiled. “We’ve taken to calling her Theo, or sometimes Dottie, after the star she has on her forehead. It looks more like a collection of spots than anything else.”
“I... thank you, Da.” He hugs me.
“You’re the only one of us out in the way of danger, and we’ve certainly been doing well with horses here. The local militia rides our horses as well. I think you’ll find that she’s quite up to anything you’ll put in front of her. She’s used to fighting too – her armor is there by the fence with her tack.”
Dottie is a few hands taller than Darby is – and considerably more powerful. Her dark mane stands up over her head like a mohawk though, giving her a roguish and rather comical air, no matter how dignified she attempts to look. Carefully noting the construction, I buckle her armor over her neck and back. It is well crafted – blue and gold. My saddle will last us long enough to get to Elwynn, but I need to get it repaired and refitted for the larger horse, which is probably good. That’s not too long of a trip, and we’ll be able to get used to each other before we have to face the unknowns of the other world.
A few days later, I find myself riding past the gates of Stormwind and through Elwynn Forest. Goldshire is as it has always been, and I do not linger long there – though Theo and I both enjoy a stop at the local faire. I’ve discovered that this new horse has rather an affection for alcohol… and she happily slugs down half a pint of Darkmoon Special Reserve from a bowl, as I gingerly drink the other half. It’s strong ale!
The riding master at the logging camp is happy to take and repair my saddle. He even updates some of the latchings and gives me a new blue and gold saddle blanket to match Dorothea’s armor. Confident in the new gear, I lead Dottie back out to the road, wishing fond farewells to the folk in Eastvale. I spent time here when I was training, and again here I feel at home.
But duty calls. Whether I am to heal or to fight, I must go back to those who are expecting me. My friends and comrades will have gone and done new things while I have been gone, and I can’t wait to hear the stories... and Dottie can’t wait to enjoy the ale!
((an IC reason for my 10 day gaming-vacation (aka honeymoon) and for Anna’s new epic mount))
