shosen | Entries tagged with rp

"Death is eternal," the Aspect said, and he wondered if the dragon had even bothered to look around the world he was burning. Only had to go as far as where he sat huddled in the bushes for proof that death was as temporary as life for some.

But maybe Deathwing saw them -- if he saw them at all -- as the Forsaken did, eternal death walking. Hadn't he seen himself the same way even as he told the angry girl he was no zombie? Thought it before he had a different truth to hold tight to his chest like a secret, let it warm his frozen core.

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(( Title from Little Wonders ))

Such a lil ting, a seed inna ground. But i' holds da tauren's hop fer all dis land bein' as green da centre o' i'. Hard no' ta ge' carried along wit' dat.

And wit' da itty trees growin' fas' enough ta see, Wen can' help bu' cheer dem on.

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(( Title from King of New Orleans ))

"They say you eat 'em," da orc boy says, calm as anytin', but da goblin flick Wen a look.

Toys!

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(( Title (sorta) from Cats on Mars ))

Wen been a skin-walker all eir life. But i' weren' till comin' ta da Ilses ey learn it be da sor' o' ting can be controlled.

Wen spends a lot of time as a cat.

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We must take in the stone, and give our spirits new life. -- Honani

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(( Title from Don't Be So Cold. And just to make sure: this has spoilers for the Stonetalon Mountains Horde quest chains. ))

"I would like you all to imagine, if you would, a forest. Take a moment to picture it in your mind.

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Jah tribe be more den just dah people livin' near jah. -- Radhika

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Opportunities fer heroism 're surprisingly easy ta find.

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(( Title from Don't Drink the Water. ))

Had been kinda strange, listenin' ta da Taurens, hearin' claims ta da land, no matter who be on i'.

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Ah went with the hope Ah'd read it righ'.

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The result of a forum post on Haven. I should not be allowed to read such things, as it means giving more evidence to my dorkhood, and spending a lot of time to do so XD

Cheat sheet for who's who is below the cut.

A Beautiful Mess by Jason Mraz

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Current Mood: dorky

Words leave mouths and reach into heavens. The ancestors hear them. -- Pao'la

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(( Title from Sin Nombre )))

Gotta say, felt good at first, da change ta fightin' more'n da raiders made it past da mountains.

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When I saw myself, I knew I was now dead.

When I saw our city, I knew Forsaken embraced it.

When I saw the spirits, I received the message but missed the meaning.

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The ghosts come to greet us, and in the graveyards dance, raising skeletal fingers to the sky, twining arms covered in paper-thin skin, stomping feet without meat enough to make sound.

But where are those of ours who died free from plague-touch? Where are our families? Fathers, mothers, true ancestors?

Even the dead forsake us.

I don’t know how long I lay with the dead. The light in that place shifts so little between day and night. Or perhaps whatever has replaced the functions of my eyes simply cannot tell the difference.

It was the rain that brought me back to myself. Cold, fresh drops that struck my face, and plinked off my armour. Though I was convinced I would never feel again, the discomforting damp and chill broke through the layers of my shock and forced me to move.

I could not bring myself to take shelter in the tomb again, nor did I think its keeper would welcome me back. Instead I followed the worn path to a ruined village, and took shelter in what may once have been an inn.

Warmth. I had not expected that, and it brought with it a relief that left me sitting by the fire, so happy I could still feel it, that for the moment I could feel nothing else.

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“Gah, what a mess.”

“Watch your step.”

“What— Ugh. What do you think that was? Ghoul, maybe?”

“Don’t matter now. They’re all just goo, what aren’t burn to shit.”

“Keep your voice down. They’re still over there, you know.”

“This is stupid. Ain’t nothing usable left, between the blight and dragons.”

“Look anyway. We got to be able to salvage something from the mess, all the trouble it caused.”

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We disembarked at Valiance Keep, forming a shoddy line of merchants, farmers, and artisans trying so hard to appear as soldiers. The officer at the desk knew, even before he asked our trades I'm sure, that almost none of us had held a blade before in our lives. Now and again he would speak to someone out of turn, usher them to the front of the line before sending them to the main keep, but no one complained. If we couldn't tell the battle-worn by their arms and their armour, we could see it in their eyes and their bearing. They knew their place in this fight, and it wasn't queueing up with those who had no business being in it.

"Your profession?" the officer asked as I stepped up to the table.

"Leatherworker," I answered, and tried not to shift under his gaze as he'd eyed the metal armour I'd polished, but clearly not made.

"Report to the civilian liaison," he said, and then called up the next.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't relieved to be outfitting the army, rather than fighting for it. ( Read more... )

My father was a solider for my whole life, for his whole life to hear him tell it. What I remember of him most, is the joy that accompanied seeing him match up the road to our house after having been away so long, only to be followed by the guilt of wishing him back down it once the days wore on.

There was no peace when my father was home. He was not a violent men, nor rude, but he had his own plans for his son’s future, ones my mother did not share.

“The boy’s too weak. You haven’t been making him practice, have you?”

“He practices, toward an honest trade, not swinging a toy around, pretending he’s off gallivanting while his family is home sick and poor.”

My mother should never have been a soldier’s wife.( Read more... )

There's people fishing in the fountain. The waters are crystal and clear, but the lines come back with scraps of cloth or ancient wishes. Tokens are taken, sold or thrown away, and the lines go back in the water, dredging up the past from nothing.

~*~

She's standing in the middle of the Undercity and there are scourge everywhere. Rhan'jin is fighting with the other grunts and she keeps her focus on him, forcing the disobedient light to answer, to help him stay whole.

It's not the first time she's fought for the safety of this forsaken city, but before it was just something they did. Sitting around at Phials when the alarms were sounded, patrons and shopkeeps answering the call, and why not volunteer with them?

She looks out at the uniforms around her, whispers another prayer, and tries to figure out when it was she became a soldier.

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shosen

May 2011

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Identity Parade

RP Blog Archive

Entries tagged with rp

Gift of Life

These Small Hours

Easier to Let it Slip

I Can't Prove It

Carvings: Stone Spirit

Sadness Leads to Gain

Carvings: Tribe

Step Forward, Step Back

What's This You Say?

Reunion

OOC: Character Collage: A Beautiful Mess

Carvings: Words

The Best That We Can Hope For

Revelation

History

We Lie to Create a New Truth

The End Is Not Always The End

Before the Gate

We Follow Our Fathers

Our World, Our Times

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May 2011

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