The Redridge ChroniclesGriggin went below. Raven dropped tea-bags in the pot and lit a tea-light. She asked Interalia where the mugs were, and added them to the tray. She got some milk from the cool-box, added the sugar pot.
“Fancy a cuppa, Interalia?”
Without waiting for an answer, Raven picked up the tray and turned round. She threw the tea tray on the floor and went for her daggers.
Look, they didn’t say they were coming, but is that any reason to draw steel on them? On reflection, probably, yes it is.
Part 23: From each according to their ability
It’s the final chapter, and what better way to finish a story than with the sound of wedding bells? Well… A bit of violence, perhaps?
Mareva did look beautiful in her white dress. It had taken the combined effort of Ariciel, Lirael and Ellandriel to get her to have the dress fitted properly, and to have her hair done. Stetson could not take his eyes off her, so they were counting it as a success. Lirael was doing the ritual. Ellandriel had asked Mordent Evenshade to be a witness. Feanor had emerged from his library for a few hours to be present. Arador had volunteered a few of his fellow choir members to sing a hymn or two for Stetson and Mareva. Ariciel grinned to herself. Part of Draenei wedding ceremony was for the groom to come and fetch the bride, and having to pay a ‘ransom’ for her. Lirael had stood in the doorway, stone-faced, arms crossed, claiming that she knew no such person as a Draenei Shaman. Meanwhile, Mareva had been inside, screaming piteously about the perverted depravities these wild Night-elves were inflicting on her, and asking him to come back later. Stetson had forced his way in, and come out a few moments later, carrying Mareva in his arms. Lirael, Ariciel and Ellandriel had trailed him, complaining bitterly about how little ransom Setson had paid. They had only escaped by getting into one of the small floats in the waterways of Darnassus, which took them to a beautiful spot in the Temple gardens.
Ariciel watched as Lirael took both their hands, tied them together with a piece of rope and had them pronounce their vows. All the witnesses signed their name on the deed. Mareva and Stetson stood still in each other’s arms, looking deep into each other’s eyes, until Lirael coughed politely.
“Now get me out of this dress,” said Mareva. “I look like a fairy cake.”
At the end of this story, I would like to thank all of you, who have followed Ariciel, Mareva, Stetson and Ellandriel. Especially Pyrelle, who never failed to hit the “Like” button on any of my posts, and Bravetank, who kindly lent Seashell out to me to transport the adventurers to Dalaran.
I’m not sure when the next part of these stories will come out, and perhaps I’ll change the format a bit so that I have more posts, but shorter ones. I have one more large story to tell before the Pandas arrive – the adventures of Bannog in Northrend. So this is not farewell, but “Until we meet again”.
It’s time to say goodbye to the Sentinels in Astranaar. Time for the final leg of the journey, to Darnassus, on the World-tree Teldrassil. Which isn’t to say that we couldn’t make a slight detour or two, to revisit some old memories. Or to meet people long missing, presumed to be dead.
Ariciel stood on a small hill, by a crevasse that hadn’t been there a month ago. A month ago, when Auberdine was still there. The very earth on which it had stood, was broken. Buildings were torn apart. A large strip of forest had blackened into nothing but charred stumps from the Dragon’s breath. There was movement between the buildings, but no Elves. There was nobody left. The Moonwell had been breached, its life-giving water spilled away. There was the noise of feathers behind her, but Ariciel did not look round until Mareva put her hand on Ariciel’s shoulder.
“Really, Ariciel. What are we doing here?”
Ariciel pointed. “That’s where we met. We were both going to Felwood. One of the best things that ever happened to me.” She pointed again. “That’s where Fiora Longears’ house used to be. I… We found Lesta there, tortured to death by that Warlock bitch. One of the worst things that ever happened to me. I am this place, Mareva. And now, it’s gone.”
Part 19: Jinxes on the high sea
After the trip from Valgarde to Menethil, Ellandriel and her friends set sail for Theramore, from where they will fly to Auberdine, the quiet port town in Kalimdor. Life is about to get more interesting though…
The bartender was still the same man who had been here when Ariciel had just arrived here. He didn’t recognise her, but then again, the landlady had fed and watered them, and -Ariciel chuckled to herself- she had not wasted any time in getting her boyfriend upstairs. She sighed. She was enjoying the trip so far, except for the bits that weren’t enjoyable, but it would have been so much better with her great big lug of a Human next to her. She looked at her hands. Was she strong enough already to follow him? Only one way to know for certain.
They asked the bartender when the ship for Theramore would sail, and were told that the Lady Mehley would sail that very evening. They booked passage, had a very good dinner, and went on board. Ariciel leaned on the railing as the lights of Menethil slowly disappeared in the distance. She stood up straight, raised a hand and sent up a bright shaft of light, like she had done so long ago, the first time she’d had to leave Bannog standing on the docks while she travelled to other places.
“Be safe, my love,” she whispered.
Part 17: Honestly, I can explain
Our intrepid trio find themselves in Shattrath, and in need of quick transport to Dalaran. Now that is usually a problem with a simple solution if there is a Mage in your party. Sadly, Ellandriel can’t do portals and Mistress Iorioa won’t teach her because she might create portals to goodness-knows-where. What to do?
For Stetson, the end is in sight. Just one more fight to win, and he’ll be able to afford his flappy and the paperwork to be able to fly it. One more fight… Just one more.
Stetson sat at the edge of the circle, staring at the ground, preparing himself. There was quite a large crowd, and they were cheering for him. Stetson didn’t care. He was not here to be popular, he was here to earn his flying lessons, his ticket out of here. If he won this fight, he would have enough. If he won. He took courage in the fact that he was not expecting to win. No matter how many times he had won, no matter how the mindless idiots told him he was invincible, he still knew that no matter how many times a coin showed heads, the next time was just as likely to show heads as it was tails.
He turned round. Walked to the middle of the circle. Once more. One more fight, and then he could say goodbye to all this, and good riddance. He looked over to the other end of the Circle. A slender figure, dressed in a hooded robe. Oh damn. A Draenei woman. Stetson had fought only one other Draenei woman and had hated it. She had reminded him too much of… Stetson blinked.
“Hello, My-ah sladkaya.”
Stetson took a breath. “Mareva?”
Seashell, the charming and generous Human Mage, appears with the kind permission of Bravetank.
Part 8: I do not normally do this
Ellandriel and Teacher reach Theramore, and have their first encounter with the Keldorei. Ariciel, Mareva and their unsatisfactory companions reach the Dry Hills in the Barrens, and also meet interesting people. And Stetson wanders into the Necropolis of Drakuru, and encounters a few friends he hasn’t met yet…
They found the road in as good repair as anyone could wish for, and marched along until they reached the gates of Theramore, the main Human settlement in Kalimdor. There was a stone gate, grassy areas. Human soldiers patrolled, or practiced swords in pairs. There were Dwarves, talking and laughing together in their strange, throaty language. Teacher went to ask one of the guards where the inn was, while Ellandriel took in the sights. There was a big yowling, yawning sound behind her, and she looked round. She took a quick breath. Behind her, a band of Night-elves had just come riding up on their black-and-white striped riding tigers. One of the warriors saw her, and grinned, rolling his shoulders. Ellandriel wanted to shrink back, but High-borne Night-elves don’t do that. She raised herself to her full height. Her face turned to stone. The warrior grinned even broader, and bent his bare arm in a way that drew rather a lot of attention to his muscles. Then, there was a shout, and all the Night-elves rode on in the direction of the Keep. There was a hand on Ellandriel’s shoulder and she looked round quickly.
Earlier than anticipated. Still getting used to AO3’s interface. Wouldn’t want to annoy the locals, so there.
Part 2: Lessons learnt, never forgotten
“Hey you! You’re after me kills, aren’t you?”
Stetson slowly turned round, to see a Human… hunter, for want of a better word. He was wearing a blood-spattered tunic of leather, and on his belt were swords. Humans, at the best of times, had only the barest grip on sanity, but this one had clearly not bothered even holding on to it. He looked at Stetson with blood-shot red eyes, fingering his weapons. Best to take this easy.
It seems like Hunter S’dezo’houn is enjoying meeting the local wildlife.
The Redridge Chronicles 