To be a Sentinel

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To be a Sentinel

Postby Aerandyr on Sun Jul 06, 2014 7:39 pm

Feralas, 22 years after the Opening of the Dark Portal


" ...Wake up already, Aerandyr!"

If the warning didn't snap the lavender-haired elf out of his daydream, the resulting sting of pain emanating from his temple surely did. His blazing golden eyes darted around, seeking out his assailant; the one whom dealt both the words of caution and admonishing blow. The edge of his vision could barely cling on to the swift figure and only instinct spared him from another whack to the head as two training glaives met one another mid-strike with a loud thwack.

"That's more like it!"

The voice belonged to a lightly armored sentinel. Her long white manes momentarily shrouding the not-unattractive face it crowned as she disengaged, immediately poised to strike anew. A playful smile was all the warning he got this time as she leapt forward, driving her male counterpart to the edge of the sparring ring with a series of lightning-fast attacks, each one hammering a little more fatigue into the arm that parried every blow. At the last moment Aerandyr rolled aside, away from the chalk that defined the edge of their world and retaliated with a flurry of swings of his own.

He couldn't help but admire the way she moved. The elegance and ease with which she danced around his triple-bladed glaive, even going as far as striking his weapon with hers simply to showcase her skill, sending ripples through the muscles that lay below her pale skin.

They had grown up together in Winterspring. In childhood the pair had more than often ended up in one another's company, both chided by their parents for doing so, but all too soon she left for Ashenvale to become a Sentinel and stand eternal vigil while he stayed behind, alone. There wasn't a night that went by without his whispered thanks to the Moon Goddess for seeing it fit to entwine their fates once more after the tragedy that was Hyjal. For bringing her back to his life. Or better, him to hers as they were in Feathermoon Stronghold. He had always been captivated by her, and the centuries spent apart had only multiplied it hundredfo-

"Aerandyr!"

He looked up, his gaze met hers and for an instant he was drowning within the argent sea that made up her eyes, dropping his guard completely. A mistake that was corrected momentarily as he found himself face first in the dirt outside the ring.




Silverwing Outpost, Siege of Ashenvale, 28 After the Opening of the Dark Portal


"Wake up Sentine-!"

Before the lieutenant could finish her barked command the formerly slumbering elf was already on his feet. His shortbow in one hand, a dagger in the other, looking for the danger that had been upon them for the past few days. She would never admit it but he was indeed -fast-. Then again, all of Huntress Alisarah's sentinels were, the training regime she put her women and in this case; man; through was murder, even for veteran Sentinels. Yet all the more reason this was a mission tailored to them.
Ashenvale had come under siege from the Horde and nearly all communication lines had been severed. But the Horde had halted that advance unexpectedly. And here they were, holed up in Silverwing Outpost awaiting reinforcements from Darnassus.

"Lieutenant?" The male stood at attention. Perfect posture she noted, eroding just a sliver of her apprehension for the relatively new addition that were male Sentinels.

"You're relieved from courier duty, Sentinel. You are to rejoin your unit to carry out recon of Forest Song, our druids have seen nothing but smoke rise from that part of the woods. " She hesitated for a moment, the sentinel's eyes upon her. Judgmental. Skeptical. As if he sensed what was coming next. "There's a family of kaldorei there. It is of the utmost imp-"

"That's a load of saberdroppings, sir"

She was stunned by the sheer audacity that it took to interrupt an officer. Let alone his choice of words.
.
"You're sending us beyond enemy lines, knowing very well hardly any of our scouts or messengers have been able to move freely and expect us to escort a group of untrained civilians back past those same lines? At least call it what it is; collective suicide."

Furious wasn't the correct word to describe the superior elf. Foam could've dripping from her lips. She repeatedly jabbed a finger against his chest, wishing it was a dagger instead.

"You have your orders, now execute them!"



Eastern Ashenvale, Siege of Ashenvale, 28 After the Opening of the Dark Portal


"...Wake up Elf."

His eyes snapped open. A torrential downpour that had long soaked his clothes and frozen him to the core was the first welcome to the realm of the living. The second came in the form of a burning pain that seared through his body as he tried to move, bringing back vague memories of what had transpired.

A demolished Forest Song. Tracks that led away, further into Horde territory and a prisoner convoy.


"I said wake up, Elf!" A hoarse voice rumbled. Aerandyr tilted his head up, trying to locate the speaker but only found a pair of arrows jutting from his torso instead.

A warm breath wafted against his ear. "You're going to pay for that ambush, treehugger " the voice whispered.

The ambush.

It all came back to him now. The Orcish jailors were cut down within seconds of the opening attack by a volley of arrows and glaives. Yet a horn that should never have been blown was all it took for the Horde to give chase to the eight sentinels and their freed quarries. A chase that under any other circumstance would've been no problem for the well-trained sentinels but now their sabers were burdened by four extra riders.
So she had turned around. His commander. His friend. His love.

His gaze found the bystander again. Grey-skinned and missing an eye. A Blackrock Orc, Kor'kron no doubt and judging by the way she was sneering at him, about to take great pleasure in making him suffer.
"Some Orcs would call what the two of you did brave. Honorable. They would grant you a swift death. I'm not one of them." Her lips curled into a malicious smile as she knelt down only to grab hold of- and twist the protruding shaft lodged between the injured elf's ribs, drawing forth a blood-curdling scream.

"I hope you aren't the same disappointment that was your commander. I had hardly started before she passed."

Her words lifted the blinding haze of pain, making place for a surge of nausea instead as he rolled away from the Orc onto his side to follow her delighted stare, finding his superior laying still besides her own lifeless saber, both feathered with arrows.

Will fled his body as life had hers. His head drooped down to the muddy grass, gazing at his beloved. With her eyes closed and her back against the fallen saber one might've mistaken her to be slumbering but he knew there was no waking her, not even with a Priestess' gift.

Elune had lifted her spark to illuminate the night's sky, to join those who had gone before while Nature begun the process of welcoming her body into its embrace. The continuous rainfall washed away stains of both innumerable wounds and savage combat, letting the earth below drink her blood from which new life would be birthed.

The Orc watched with glee at the scene before her. The way the male elf stared at his female counterpart made her victory so much sweeter, a personal tragedy and one caused by her hand at that. But she was far from satisfied.

"The forests you seek to defend don't seem to care one of its protectors has fallen, elf. Listen. Wolves are still howling in the distance, leafs continue rustling. Branches are snapping in the wind. There is mournful quiet, no -" branches snapping?

Her gaze snapped down, just in time to notice the splintered arrow shaft that perforated her good eye and plunged beyond into her skull, wrecking havoc on the soft tissue that lay within.

Aerandyr fell back onto the dirt with a pained grunt and felt oddly unsatisfied as he eyed the slumped frame of the Orc beside him. She was convulsing irregularly, her body not yet having come to terms with the sudden and utter destruction that befell the mind.

He rolled away and turned his gaze skywards to the thousands of Starborne looking down upon him, but only seeking one. The thought of mending his wounds briefly passed his mind, twin streams of blood streaking his sides crimson which soon mingled with the rain but his arms remained motionless next to him, instead a sliver of a smile crept on his lips, having found where he'd ask Elune to place him once she came.
He was ready and nothing but the sight above registered anymore.



"...There they are!"
Last edited by Aerandyr on Sun Aug 24, 2014 10:19 am, edited 8 times in total.
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Evesia on Sun Jul 06, 2014 8:12 pm

Great writing, very lovely and descriptive. You've a way with words! It was really nice to get an insight into Aerandyr. More!! :)
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Calisar on Mon Jul 07, 2014 2:46 pm

Fantastic, love the style! Looking forward to more ;)
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Aariam on Sun Jul 20, 2014 11:15 am

Only took to reading this now, and I am glad that I did! Very good writing, and Aariam can surely relate to the lieutenant in the latter story. :lol:
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Elysar on Thu Jul 24, 2014 12:02 pm

As you apparently read all of my stories, I took the time to read yours today :D Great writing Aer, looking forward to reading more as well ^^
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Kaldur on Fri Aug 01, 2014 10:56 am

I've been lazy since I got back so I'm only just catching up on forum stories. I really like it Aerandyr. :D

The dialogue works really well. And there's some great descriptions in there that were very visual to me:
chalk that defined the edge of their world

Foam could've dripped from her lips


So, the real challenge with any story posted on the forum - can you finish it?
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Aerandyr on Sat Aug 23, 2014 6:51 pm

Updated and finished. Cut away the epilogue I had in mind as it turned out completely different.
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Soriah on Sun Aug 24, 2014 4:39 am

... yeah. :) I like it. ^__^ Gives us some insight into why Aer is how he is. :) Fancy writing any more?
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To be a Commander

Postby Aerandyr on Fri Mar 04, 2016 9:49 pm

Somewhere over the skies of Kalimdor, Present day



The rhythmic beat of wings and rippling feathers were the only sounds that penetrated the howling winds which buffeted his entire being, the iron grip of his thighs and arms all that kept him from plummeting to certain death.
Flying at this altitude was torture on the body. Lungs ached, desperately fighting to wrench enough oxygen from the thin air and tears froze in the corners of his eyes. Where skin was assaulted by thousand of pinpricks before, there was only numbness now and if not for the leather lining of the heavy armor insulating his body, he would've suffered hypothermia long before clearing Ashenvale skies. But the solitude that came with being truly alone among the clouds was a luxury he could not pass up on. A momentary -but ever too short- escape, away from the responsibilities that came with the world below.

The bullhorn-helmeted elf struggled to shift his weight and crane his neck over the flank of an equally, if not more, pained hippogryph. An ocean tinted in grays stretched out for miles before him. A land pockmarked by scattered craters and ruins of civilizations razed.

His civilization.

No doubt Desolace earned its name the same way Felwood had, after war brought ruin to the vast forests that once spanned this now bleak land. Southward, impossibly far in the distance, the untamed wilds of his destination were beckoning. Ancient trees, as old as the world itself dominated the horizon, looming over cliffs that marked the end of this barren wasteland. A natural blockade, which could very well have been the reason why the forests south of it had been spared the Legion's destruction.

Feralas. Feathermoon. Home of the Sentinels.

The memory of the place did little to warm his heart. Each journey to the Stronghold had demanded a price. The first had been his past. The battle under the World Tree had reduced what little remained of the family line and home to ashes. The estate impacted dead-center by an Infernal, its fel-flames swept over the grounds like a fluorescent tide and claimed everything it touched.

A mother who never emerged from the rubble, a father who ordered his son to flee while he stood his ground. Not a trace to be found of either once the fires died out and dust had settled. Perhaps if he hadn't obeyed. Perhaps if he had stayed and fought... but there was no turning back time. One could only learn from past mistakes and learn he did.

"Return with your shield, or on it." the words said millenia before by one to the other.



Duty. Selflessness. Sacrifice



The events during the siege of Ashenvale, came second. His future, feathered by Orcish arrows had bled out into the soil. They had stood their ground together for as long as they could. Had she even tried to order him away? No matter how hard he tried he could not find his answer. The memories of that fateful day evaded him even now. Would she have said the words, knowing what she knew? Probably. He would've done the same. Would she have expected him to heed them? No. Not ever.



Duty. Selflessness. Sacrifice




And now being first of an extinct regiment led him on this path.

"Commander Sabersong."

Merely whispering the words still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew there was little honor in the title. Never he had been the Keeper's first or even second choice. The title would've, should've gone to Menori, had she still been drawing breath. Or perhaps be returned to the matriarch of the Blackmoon Regiment, Commander Nightsinger. Alas, her mate had suffered the same end Aariam's, one of too many fallen on a planet foreign to the Kaldorei, but fighting enemies very familiar to them. And while the Keeper had recovered -atleast in some capacity-, Loménar never had.

If she ever would.

No, the rank had come to him not through ambition on his part but cruel fate for all parties involved. He had been Nightborne's only real option for better or worse, a gamble he would not return to his old antics. A desperate woman's dilemma. No choice for either of them.



Duty. Selflessness. Sacrifice



It would be freedom.

His freedom, the toll to pay for this journey to center of the sentinel heartland. Soon to be caged inside a prison walled with responsibility, chained by never-ending duty. His convict's uniform the insignia of Blackmoon. Every promise he once made himself broken.
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Kiaran on Fri Mar 04, 2016 10:12 pm

Reading your shit makes me want to touch myself in a bad place.
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Salirien on Fri Mar 04, 2016 10:33 pm

You always tell me you're not a writer, but I'm finding that hard to believe, Aerbear! Love the story, as always. Always a delight getting a peek into Aer's mind as well ^^
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Lomenár on Sat Mar 05, 2016 8:24 pm

Oooh! I love it Aer! And I'm in it too! <3
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Calisar on Sun Mar 06, 2016 7:58 pm

You're such a goddam liar Aer...

When you say you can't write :D

Beautifully crafted, I'd love to read more about our reluctant Commander :)
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Anhagath on Mon Mar 07, 2016 5:48 am

That's... surprisingly sad :( And deep. Awesome perspective, and great way to put words to, something so serious. Poor Aer :(

Your writing style is great, by the way. Would love to read more. The entire sequence about the pain and cold of flying so high for so long was really well done.
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Re: To be a Sentinel

Postby Aariam on Sun Mar 13, 2016 3:55 pm

Poor Aerandyr. :( I loved it, dude!

Solution: get long white hair and pretend to be Menori - all parties will be happy!
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