[Linthara] Seeking the Dawns Blade.
Sunlight of predawn rolled in beneath veiled curtains of crimson into the quiet living quarters. Limbs stretched out across half discarded armor, a blood red in it's polish, faint traces of gold inline decorated it's surface giving with it a rich history of the woman who wore it. Leaning back into the arm chair her breastplate wore heavy against her weary bones and tired frame. A slight glow of fel echoed from under heavy eye lids. Her arms slightly draped over the rests as if too weak to lift themselves. If one where to have seen her from a distance they would have believed her dead. The deep sigh would have given signs otherwise as she pulled herself forward like the dead risen from the grave. Her elbows rested against padded knees as her hands formed a slight resting spot for her chin. The platinum blonde tresses that framed her face swung forward before falling still.
Linthara Illu'noir was tired. Far more tired then most would have ever realized. Upon her shoulders laid a burden that many would not fathom if they had tried. Many attempted but, in her mind they only just barely scratched the surface of the problems and the true weight of it's curse. One she never truly wanted but took the mantel for, for personal reasons. Inwardly she wondered if this wasn't truly her way of justifying her own near meaningless existence in the world. Her eyes closed tight as the dawns light began to creep in more casting it's warm glare into her vision. Memories flooded forward remembering the horrors that she bore witness to. Her mothers death, the crucifixion of a vigilante, the results of attacks against a woman who now called her foe instead of friend. Wincing heavily she let out a choked sigh as her heart felt crushed and in pain.
Her mind wandered over this past into it's present and paused in breath. A hand reached out towards the ground at a slip of paper that had fallen from the folds of her armor. Unfolding and turning the page she smiled softly re-reading the child like hand writing that offered her a personal invitation from a young lady, for her fathers birthday celebration. Allowing her lids to close once more she remembered the talk they had in the streets of Quel'thalas. The girl riding on a motorized trike and a small white striped kitten nestled upon her lap looking content, the future of the Sin'dorei. Linthara refolded the invitation and settled it upon the small table beside her.
"If all I do this for.... is so children like her can continue to smile. I would shoulder any burden .. take any insult and flame tossed against me.... I will pick up the martyred cause of a vigilante and I will see it to an end.... one way or another."
Her voice spoke to no one before rolling her head to the letter beside the folded invitation. Three pages long and full of questions unanswered, questions that would never be answered. Whether by death or falsified death, she knew that this person she wrote to had left an impact in the hearts of others. She could see their mark within each person she came into contact with, with each heart she now connected with towards a common goal, and with every heart she could not. Cruel, that is what she felt while reading over her own questions as if proof reading it with intentions to send. Her mind thought back to the days in which she was newly instated as a Knight Lord among the Blood Knights. A task she carried out with pride despite the opposition towards the Order, despite those that would spit at her for simply making a choice to protect those who seemed to want no such
protection. Foolish lives being squandered for petty reasons within the Row, Sin'dorei against Sin'dorei. A blood bath that was unneeded after so much blood of their people had been spilled by the Scourge.
"If you still live within this World... or even in beyond Avali Dawnblade. Do you even realize what you've done?" she half muttered under her breath in slight annoyance. Or was it regret? A doubt lingered slightly in the back of her mind, she thought back to a chance encounter she had with the now fabled woman and frowned. "What if I had taken your offer to assist in cleaning the Row...... I kept good men and women from spilling unneeded blood upon our cities streets, your skirmishes only further caused issues for those people for doing 'nothing'. But honestly we where undermanned. Good people left due to the hatred towards the Order. Many joined the Argent Dawn, and later the Crusade.. Many didn't wish to carry or even try to live for Liadrin's wishes after the Sunwells revival."
"Clarion...... Dawnblade, Avali. Where are you now that you cannot answer for your past actions? Or has this sovereign of a cultist to the Old Gods stripped you of what ever life you had left. Had his whims and sharped blades done in your pride? Your tenacity? Had it stripped you of the very confidence that you've once shown me back then?" Her voice echoed slightly within the silence of the room. The silence mimicked the very voice she wished to hear but knew it would never be. Unanswered questions, so many unanswered questions. Her heart could only reach out so far on the matter before calling from memory those who had been left behind. Those who cry out with pride, 'For Avali!', those who sought forgiveness but could never find it due to her absence. She remembered that day on Duskwither spire, the man who knelt before her in tears while she dressed in the garb of a confessor listening to his 'sins'. Linthara remembered her words to pardon his actions, to help him find peace of mind. He was just another face to
remember as to why she pushed forward. Her tired state of mind came into question as she resettled the letters to the side. Again her mind wandered over the past towards those who where hurt or slain for the same of this cause, this near crusade of faith between those who sided with the beings of holy light, and those that listened to the mad whispers of the gods trapped beneath the ground by the Titans themselves. Her heart ached at the
thought of all of those who had become lost over time to the madness of the shadowed wings that flew over Azeroth that day. The lives lost, the cult knew deep within the monstrous beast wakened to cause the world to rip itself apart.
The rustling of the silken drapes called to her attention the gentle breeze that now played upon her focused features. Her hands now draped limply in the space caused by her sitting, if but briefly before reaching forward to the discarded tabard upon the floor. The mark of the Horde stared back up at her reminding her why her actions lead to this point. She remembered being a face amongst the crowd listening the Warchief's words and rallying cry to arms on more then one instance. Thrall was a leader she could respect for his actions, his call to unite and create a better world for the Horde and all its' races. She sighed realizing how fleeting those days had been where things now constantly shifted.
The irony of the statement "Hellscreams eyes are upon you always." never ceased to choke up a slightly bitter laugh from her throat. After all did he really know just how foolish that statement sounded at all? Did he possibly think he could watch every inch of the Horde territories and know exactly where the schemers and betrayers had been hiding? Such distrust from within the very faction she and those like her had pledged their loyalty and skill to. Yet despite the near dictatorship of leadership within the Horde, she felt it best to stay. Wiser leaders such as Voljin are still what the Horde need even if his people had to come first in matters of security.
Brushing back the pale tresses that fell over her shoulder Linthara pulled herself upright and took her first steps forward for that morning. Her hands reached up and lightly touched the framing that made up the windows and looked out over the city streets of Silvermoon City. The streets felt emptier then inside the very walls of her own private sanctum away from the world. The slight rustling of movement from her bedroom reminded her that even here she was not alone. A gentle smile played upon her lips as she continued to look ahead to greet the dawn. Inhaling slightly she took in the gentle breeze that made its' way into the apartment this time rustling the pages of a journal on the table till they turned slowly.
The page fell open to the notations and study of elven sword craft, of runes and their empowerment. Infusion of magics and steel to give the blade purpose and a new life far beyond that of any mere enchanted blade. Written in a mix of thalassian and human dialects where scrawled across the tomes pages a few words stood out the most. However one in particular would stand out the most. One that would give this blade it's focus and reason as the wielder would carry with them.
-the Dawns Blade-
Linthara Illu'noir was tired. Far more tired then most would have ever realized. Upon her shoulders laid a burden that many would not fathom if they had tried. Many attempted but, in her mind they only just barely scratched the surface of the problems and the true weight of it's curse. One she never truly wanted but took the mantel for, for personal reasons. Inwardly she wondered if this wasn't truly her way of justifying her own near meaningless existence in the world. Her eyes closed tight as the dawns light began to creep in more casting it's warm glare into her vision. Memories flooded forward remembering the horrors that she bore witness to. Her mothers death, the crucifixion of a vigilante, the results of attacks against a woman who now called her foe instead of friend. Wincing heavily she let out a choked sigh as her heart felt crushed and in pain.
Her mind wandered over this past into it's present and paused in breath. A hand reached out towards the ground at a slip of paper that had fallen from the folds of her armor. Unfolding and turning the page she smiled softly re-reading the child like hand writing that offered her a personal invitation from a young lady, for her fathers birthday celebration. Allowing her lids to close once more she remembered the talk they had in the streets of Quel'thalas. The girl riding on a motorized trike and a small white striped kitten nestled upon her lap looking content, the future of the Sin'dorei. Linthara refolded the invitation and settled it upon the small table beside her.
"If all I do this for.... is so children like her can continue to smile. I would shoulder any burden .. take any insult and flame tossed against me.... I will pick up the martyred cause of a vigilante and I will see it to an end.... one way or another."
Her voice spoke to no one before rolling her head to the letter beside the folded invitation. Three pages long and full of questions unanswered, questions that would never be answered. Whether by death or falsified death, she knew that this person she wrote to had left an impact in the hearts of others. She could see their mark within each person she came into contact with, with each heart she now connected with towards a common goal, and with every heart she could not. Cruel, that is what she felt while reading over her own questions as if proof reading it with intentions to send. Her mind thought back to the days in which she was newly instated as a Knight Lord among the Blood Knights. A task she carried out with pride despite the opposition towards the Order, despite those that would spit at her for simply making a choice to protect those who seemed to want no such
protection. Foolish lives being squandered for petty reasons within the Row, Sin'dorei against Sin'dorei. A blood bath that was unneeded after so much blood of their people had been spilled by the Scourge.
"If you still live within this World... or even in beyond Avali Dawnblade. Do you even realize what you've done?" she half muttered under her breath in slight annoyance. Or was it regret? A doubt lingered slightly in the back of her mind, she thought back to a chance encounter she had with the now fabled woman and frowned. "What if I had taken your offer to assist in cleaning the Row...... I kept good men and women from spilling unneeded blood upon our cities streets, your skirmishes only further caused issues for those people for doing 'nothing'. But honestly we where undermanned. Good people left due to the hatred towards the Order. Many joined the Argent Dawn, and later the Crusade.. Many didn't wish to carry or even try to live for Liadrin's wishes after the Sunwells revival."
"Clarion...... Dawnblade, Avali. Where are you now that you cannot answer for your past actions? Or has this sovereign of a cultist to the Old Gods stripped you of what ever life you had left. Had his whims and sharped blades done in your pride? Your tenacity? Had it stripped you of the very confidence that you've once shown me back then?" Her voice echoed slightly within the silence of the room. The silence mimicked the very voice she wished to hear but knew it would never be. Unanswered questions, so many unanswered questions. Her heart could only reach out so far on the matter before calling from memory those who had been left behind. Those who cry out with pride, 'For Avali!', those who sought forgiveness but could never find it due to her absence. She remembered that day on Duskwither spire, the man who knelt before her in tears while she dressed in the garb of a confessor listening to his 'sins'. Linthara remembered her words to pardon his actions, to help him find peace of mind. He was just another face to
remember as to why she pushed forward. Her tired state of mind came into question as she resettled the letters to the side. Again her mind wandered over the past towards those who where hurt or slain for the same of this cause, this near crusade of faith between those who sided with the beings of holy light, and those that listened to the mad whispers of the gods trapped beneath the ground by the Titans themselves. Her heart ached at the
thought of all of those who had become lost over time to the madness of the shadowed wings that flew over Azeroth that day. The lives lost, the cult knew deep within the monstrous beast wakened to cause the world to rip itself apart.
The rustling of the silken drapes called to her attention the gentle breeze that now played upon her focused features. Her hands now draped limply in the space caused by her sitting, if but briefly before reaching forward to the discarded tabard upon the floor. The mark of the Horde stared back up at her reminding her why her actions lead to this point. She remembered being a face amongst the crowd listening the Warchief's words and rallying cry to arms on more then one instance. Thrall was a leader she could respect for his actions, his call to unite and create a better world for the Horde and all its' races. She sighed realizing how fleeting those days had been where things now constantly shifted.
The irony of the statement "Hellscreams eyes are upon you always." never ceased to choke up a slightly bitter laugh from her throat. After all did he really know just how foolish that statement sounded at all? Did he possibly think he could watch every inch of the Horde territories and know exactly where the schemers and betrayers had been hiding? Such distrust from within the very faction she and those like her had pledged their loyalty and skill to. Yet despite the near dictatorship of leadership within the Horde, she felt it best to stay. Wiser leaders such as Voljin are still what the Horde need even if his people had to come first in matters of security.
Brushing back the pale tresses that fell over her shoulder Linthara pulled herself upright and took her first steps forward for that morning. Her hands reached up and lightly touched the framing that made up the windows and looked out over the city streets of Silvermoon City. The streets felt emptier then inside the very walls of her own private sanctum away from the world. The slight rustling of movement from her bedroom reminded her that even here she was not alone. A gentle smile played upon her lips as she continued to look ahead to greet the dawn. Inhaling slightly she took in the gentle breeze that made its' way into the apartment this time rustling the pages of a journal on the table till they turned slowly.
The page fell open to the notations and study of elven sword craft, of runes and their empowerment. Infusion of magics and steel to give the blade purpose and a new life far beyond that of any mere enchanted blade. Written in a mix of thalassian and human dialects where scrawled across the tomes pages a few words stood out the most. However one in particular would stand out the most. One that would give this blade it's focus and reason as the wielder would carry with them.
-the Dawns Blade-