She found the ale too bitter, but she drank it anyway. The warm burn of it creeping down her throat and taking the chill away from the inside. She pondered the thing, holding it up to a candle nearby. The flame could just barely be seen, as she turned the glass this way and that.
Dark, warm, and bitter, this ale was, and she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Wondered idly if it should be named after herself, since it seemed such a perfect twin to her mind these days. Grimacing, she set the glass down and looked to the book resting nearby, flipping it’s aged pages until she found what she was looking for.
Covering the vellum were maps, ancient things, somehow kept safe from all the dangers and destructions Kalimdoor had suffered since even before the Sundering. Drawing her finger lightly over the lines, she traced roads, rivers, and valleys, nearly lost inside the ink and musty paintings on each page of the atlas.
Something moved her to follow these scratches and swirls. Wheedled her to seek them out and know them. Each line had meaning, and as her finger followed them, it felt as if she were riding along it‘s path. Looking over the forests of her people before they had slipped under the waves. Feeling the pave stones, the sweet smell of orchids blooming, hearing the owls sing while the cool light of the Moon caressed her face.
She followed the road as it wound though the forest, seemingly lost to the calm, still beauty of the night around her. So enthralled was she that she didn’t notice she was no longer the sole occupant of the road. A procession was almost on top of her before she took notice: Some thirty elves, all hooded, all wearing robes of the finest make. The only difference she was able to discern was the color of the cloth, as no two were alike. A riot of blazing color against the peaceful night. Across their shoulders rested a gilded series of yokes, each one connected to a glimmering palanquin. Covered in gold, silver and moonstones, the litter turned the night around it into day, so bright did it shine.
She stood transfixed, watching as they walked past, nary a sound from their slippered feet, or a sigh from their lips, a machine made of bone, muscle and outrageous fashion. As the palanquin passed by her, the screen parted, just a bit. Enough for her to see a pair of golden, hungry eyes…
And long enough for them to see her.
A shuddering gasp, and her finger was ripped from the vellum. Fear gripped her heart even after her vision sapped back into reality. Her entire arm tingled, the residue of the magic still clinging to her. She forced another shuddering breath, trying to rid herself of the smell of flowers that was still with her…
It took her the better part of an hour to regain herself. Before she looked again at the map of the outlaying reaches of Zin-Azshari, and the roads that connected it to the rest the Elven lands. She shook her head, and flexed her fingers as she closed the atlas. Something was very wrong…
(Just a lil something that bounced in my head when I saw the patch notes. Hoped you liked it.)
Dark, warm, and bitter, this ale was, and she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Wondered idly if it should be named after herself, since it seemed such a perfect twin to her mind these days. Grimacing, she set the glass down and looked to the book resting nearby, flipping it’s aged pages until she found what she was looking for.
Covering the vellum were maps, ancient things, somehow kept safe from all the dangers and destructions Kalimdoor had suffered since even before the Sundering. Drawing her finger lightly over the lines, she traced roads, rivers, and valleys, nearly lost inside the ink and musty paintings on each page of the atlas.
Something moved her to follow these scratches and swirls. Wheedled her to seek them out and know them. Each line had meaning, and as her finger followed them, it felt as if she were riding along it‘s path. Looking over the forests of her people before they had slipped under the waves. Feeling the pave stones, the sweet smell of orchids blooming, hearing the owls sing while the cool light of the Moon caressed her face.
She followed the road as it wound though the forest, seemingly lost to the calm, still beauty of the night around her. So enthralled was she that she didn’t notice she was no longer the sole occupant of the road. A procession was almost on top of her before she took notice: Some thirty elves, all hooded, all wearing robes of the finest make. The only difference she was able to discern was the color of the cloth, as no two were alike. A riot of blazing color against the peaceful night. Across their shoulders rested a gilded series of yokes, each one connected to a glimmering palanquin. Covered in gold, silver and moonstones, the litter turned the night around it into day, so bright did it shine.
She stood transfixed, watching as they walked past, nary a sound from their slippered feet, or a sigh from their lips, a machine made of bone, muscle and outrageous fashion. As the palanquin passed by her, the screen parted, just a bit. Enough for her to see a pair of golden, hungry eyes…
And long enough for them to see her.
A shuddering gasp, and her finger was ripped from the vellum. Fear gripped her heart even after her vision sapped back into reality. Her entire arm tingled, the residue of the magic still clinging to her. She forced another shuddering breath, trying to rid herself of the smell of flowers that was still with her…
It took her the better part of an hour to regain herself. Before she looked again at the map of the outlaying reaches of Zin-Azshari, and the roads that connected it to the rest the Elven lands. She shook her head, and flexed her fingers as she closed the atlas. Something was very wrong…
(Just a lil something that bounced in my head when I saw the patch notes. Hoped you liked it.)
