Aorune Fireblade wasn't very happy throughout the night, to honestly say.
There were much more Horde than Alliance, which ruffled Aorune's fur more than he wished. Entrances of Modas concerned him most of all, and he didn't seem to be alone. Everyone knew the Modas wanted to unconditionally bring the downfall of the Alliance. Kaellar seemed unruffled, and even had an entirely point of view than Fireblade imagined. Everyone else was nice to say the least. The AAMS kept order and translated so both sides could have earnest talks between themselves. Then, in the corner of his eye, Aorune saw them. Raoul. Arothand.
Forget the fireball in his face, sword plunge in his abdomen, Aorune earnestly wanted to have a conversation with the two, both Fireblade's rivals. Arietha was kind-or brave-enough to volunteer, and Aorune was the first to say something. The conversation didn't last long, the two were quite disinterested in talking with thier battlefield enemy, A rothand with quite offensive body language. So Aorune left them, hearing the murmurings around him.
Yes, the side-conversations. More than every-so-often, he heard a mumble of his name, a point in his direction. Aorune's kind was outnumbered, but he had had to guess; This was, after all, a peace meeting. Mind you, having Ragefang would have boosted Aorune's will to press through the night, and the arrival of Luptia would have averted the entire mess that rushed past Aorune. It was a sad night for him, making him unsure who to talk to, and he never stayed in one place for long.
Aorune Fireblade gave up. He had had enough. He used his energies to port back home and avoid anymore darts and bolts against him.
There were much more Horde than Alliance, which ruffled Aorune's fur more than he wished. Entrances of Modas concerned him most of all, and he didn't seem to be alone. Everyone knew the Modas wanted to unconditionally bring the downfall of the Alliance. Kaellar seemed unruffled, and even had an entirely point of view than Fireblade imagined. Everyone else was nice to say the least. The AAMS kept order and translated so both sides could have earnest talks between themselves. Then, in the corner of his eye, Aorune saw them. Raoul. Arothand.
Forget the fireball in his face, sword plunge in his abdomen, Aorune earnestly wanted to have a conversation with the two, both Fireblade's rivals. Arietha was kind-or brave-enough to volunteer, and Aorune was the first to say something. The conversation didn't last long, the two were quite disinterested in talking with thier battlefield enemy, A rothand with quite offensive body language. So Aorune left them, hearing the murmurings around him.
Yes, the side-conversations. More than every-so-often, he heard a mumble of his name, a point in his direction. Aorune's kind was outnumbered, but he had had to guess; This was, after all, a peace meeting. Mind you, having Ragefang would have boosted Aorune's will to press through the night, and the arrival of Luptia would have averted the entire mess that rushed past Aorune. It was a sad night for him, making him unsure who to talk to, and he never stayed in one place for long.
Aorune Fireblade gave up. He had had enough. He used his energies to port back home and avoid anymore darts and bolts against him.
Edited by Aorune on 2/18/2012 7:21 PM PST
