((I DIED laughing. XD))
Suzina waited for the flash of light to die down... staring at the tent in disbelief for a moment before her eyebrows furrowed again.
Would that have attracted attention for unwanted guests? They were on elevated land now... it would be easier to gauge the situation...
Starting her swift journey back to the camp in the short distance she paused on the 3rd step to glare back at the 'pants tree'.
She couldn't leave him...
She knocked on the tree bark. "Sylv- whcih side is your bad arm on?" The words may have sounded muffled from inside the tree trunk.
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As the bloodied and terrified brunette peered up, or rather; down at his own small pool of blood he thought for a moment he heard the voice of a woman. Perhaps it was an angel - maybe he would be saved from this hell, but then the woman asked about his arm... recalling it, his sharp dizziness brought him back to pain as he strained to curl his fingers into a fist - figuring out what side he couldn't move more.
"...Left." the 'pants tree' wiggled his left foot as if to indicate what side he was talking about. "Katilyn, is that you?" He questioned with some hope in his muffled voice.
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Sylvannar might receive an errie moment of silence in his upsidown tree-tomb with the mention of Katilyn. Katilyn Firecrest was a farstrider who had, according to her brother, recently fallen in battle. She hadn't been there to see her fall but she knew the girl. She was only 20 years younger than her, optimistic, quirky and always up for a mission. She was the bubbly mascot of the team who occasionally stole Sylvannar's bat jerky...
For a moment see debated leaving Sylvannar there. According to Tristyn, her death was on his hands...
Gritting her teeth she kicked in the other side of the dead tree trunk, likely freeing him but causing to fall flat on his face in the process.
((This would have made some noise to any in the woods- more roleplayers welcome. Read the 1st post for setting.))
Right after seeing to it that he could get out, or almost get out... screw it, she flat out 'loosened' him and left swiftly towards the camp.
Upon entering the tent she would come to find two drained magi, the priestess from early with what appeared to be an accusing stare as she questioned the magister and her brother fumbling with bandages. "Trist, quit fooling around." She'd snap at him as he'd wonder around looking for water with bandages in hand. "I'll patch you up, let me find some anti-septic..." She'd try and grab the bandages he had, noticing the girl from earlier on the floor and the magister looking drained. "For Flip-sake Trist, help them." She'd glare at him (if allowed) as she'd look for antiseptic, bandages now (presumably) in her hands (unless you wanna fight me for em?))
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((If you weren't my IC sibling this would have gone very differently...))
Tristyn was thrown for a loop seeing his white haired sibling not to moments before she snatched his bandages and traded him chores.
He grit his teeth... at least she was safe. Where the hell had she gone off to?...Something didn't feel right but he couldn't quite figure it out.
One thing was for certain...his eyes watered as he realized a bright light had actually disorientated him with some strange after effect.
The rune the elf had been oddly meditating in had stopped glowing and now the younger elf lay on the floor, smirking awkwardly.
Peering over while blinking several times to snap out of his flash-blinded, virtigo like-state; Tristyn peered at the Magister with his eyes closed, it still appeared he was on his feet. Then to the younger elf on the floor. He peered at his bloodied, gritty, palms and then the heal-less priest to his side...
Finally he sighed and leaned down just outside the rune circle on the ground - obviously he didnt trust it.
"You ok, short-stuff?" He asked Lys.Edited: February 20, 2016
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Lys probably thought her response was eloquent. Something along the lines of, "Right as rain!" or, "Never better!" Unfortunately, it was a lie she literally couldn't articulate. What came out of her instead was a garbled, incoherent mess of vocabulary and a lopsided grin. The mess she was holding together had finally started to come apart. But she did well, thus far. There was no denying she'd done well. There was plenty for her to be proud of.
She probably needed rest more than anyone else in camp. The only trick that came with that was the monumental task it'd prove to be to convince her of that need. If she'd stayed awake after all this, it could simply be that she no longer knew how to sleep anymore.
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Tristyn raised an eyebrow and looked to her side where the other mage ((magister- but i dont know that yet))stood. "I think ya broke her..."
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((My friend wont be able to RP anymore, he told me hes way to busy with work atm))
Selvarria got frustrated with the lack of answers from the meditating mage and left the tent to go check outside, finally letting her anger out for being powerless despite trying to regain her composure "He brought us to a good overlooking position Ill give him that yet what does he hope to achive with all of this..." She sat down by the cliff now overlooking the now darken forest of Quel'Thalas.
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Suzina returned minutes later to watch the angered priestess exit the tent. A question of 'what...did i miss?' flashed across her face but she had other responsibilities for the moment. She leaned beside Tristyn who was leaning down, presumably to examine Lys and turned to the magister.
The white haired siblings might have been identical from the back with their splattered gore and messy hair....
Swiftly she attempted to clean Tristyn up, bandages, damp a cloth and antiseptic in hand. "Turn towards me" her voice was commanding as she waved a damp cloth towards her brothers face.
Peering towards Lys on the ground she raised an eyebrow; "You're next, sharp-tongue." She told Lys as she peered down at her.
((Your move Trist.))
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The messy white haired begrudgingly turned towards his sister and held out his face by extending his neck, looking upward as he puckered his lips like a duck.
This wasn't meant to be a flattering image. A deep wound ran from cheek to cheek, skipping across the bridge of his nose. It gushed clots of crimson goo, clotted in some areas with dirt but still open in others. His nose was previously bleeding, a constant sniffle would have followed her handy work. The 'somewhat' dried blood ran all the way down his chin and neck. His nose had clearly been bashed in but the cartilage had been hand-snapped back into place and was now swollen... however, all of this would have only been revealed AFTER the damp cloth took the shower of gore and dirt away to clearly see why the heck he was so messed up.
Oh yes.. and his nuckles would be bloodied and raw.
((have at it 'sista'))
((side note: Lys and sel, would LIKELY not recognize us in current day rp looking as messed up as we all did back then...though the scars could be familiar.))
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((Wouldn't Selv and Lys recognize each other then? At least so some extend, as well as Tris, sylv and suzy recognize selv and lys? Even if Selv is half demon now XD))
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((Lys definitely isn't recognizing anyone xD she is preeeeeetty messed up mentally atm. But they also probably would have at the very least a HARD time recognizing her, what with the huge difference in grooming alone. then there's the green eyes instead of the blue, and how much 10 years can change a person's appearence - even if that person is an elf. So at first glance, probably not, but they could probably recognize her down the line))
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((Ha- thats something to look forward to... might be hilarious in the near future but we're all pretty messed up looking for now.))
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*Crack* *THUD* "Ow..."
Sylvannar groaned... as he shifted his torso loose and proceeded to crack the rest of the jagged edges and splintery dead wood from holding him bound in the tree.
His face had hit the stumps center first.. which smelled like blood and p*ss...
Slowly, and with much difficulty, the one-able-armed Farstrider had made his way out of the tree and brushed himself off... like that would do ANY good.
After a few moments of letting the blood drain from his head (it was a mirical he was still alive), he peered over at the camp on the platue.
"...That... wasnt... there before?" He squinted in disbelief.
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He had felt something that was sparking in the distance, something that was necessary to be investigated. Lorellan gritted his teeth, looking at the young priestess that aided him in his doing as they had moved the command stand that would now be newly formed. He smiled for some reason, his blonde hair wailing in a light breeze caused by arcane waves floating about, as they manifest around him. It seems as if the Magister was about to blink, leaving only a short and mysterious message, but also instructions. He did so with a soothing voice that would reassure her that he would return to hold the reins for a while, very soon. However, he also passively inclined that it was most necessary that instructions were followed if they were to survive. Dire times.
"Young priestess. There occured something in the far that requires my immediate attention. It is of upmost importance that I investigate. In the meanwhile, you will fortify this area as much as possible, take care of more wounded and make sure that this location can be called a safety zone in midst of all this undead filth about in our beloved woods. This is mandatory and inevitable for our survival. Take this. It will allow you to call for me, if you are in dire need of my aid."
He offered her another arcane shard, it was golden in color. Eventually a communication tool that was property of his family, maybe even reason for their name. Sunshard.
"Infuse arcane into it and my counterpart will beam brightly, so I will know what to do. Only do so in the most dire of situations."
He nods, patting Lys' shoulder momentarily, knowing that she would delay the instructions to the others and inform them. He then elegantly swirls around his axis, his fine robes wailing in the motion as he suddenly seems to disperse in an cloud of arcane. The Magister was gone. For now.
(( My apologies everyone. RL is very busy right now. Use the Sunshard if there is an IC need for my to return, I like this RP alot. Might even make a character on your MoP server very soon. Cindera will inform me about the use of the Sunshard and can even provide you my skype, in case people want to add me and help me getting along in the MoP server(Frostwolf I think?) in near future. Thank you all! ))
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Perhaps the magister placed more faith in Lys than he should have. It was with great effort that she reached out and took the sunshard, spent as she was, and it was quite the struggle simply understanding what it was he tasked her with. She was... being put in charge? Temporarily, of course, but nevertheless, it was a daunting realization for the tired young mage to come to. She'd never even been allowed to control her own life, and yet now she was to hold authority over this whole camp? If anyone looked upon her as she took this in, they would be able to easily see the lost look in her eyes. She didn't know how to do this.
She wouldn't get the chance.
A man entered, with a sharp gaze and a solid stance that exuded an aura of both wisdom and authority. His eyes did not linger long on anyone in the tent - he seemed to be searching for a figure of authority, and wouldn't waste time on any foolish Farstriders or wayward priests - but just as he was about to wordlessly turn and leave the triage center, unsatisfied with all he found present, he spotted Lys on the floor, and froze in his tracks. Lys met his stare with wide eyes... and a heart full of horror.
With a cry of surprise and delight, the man fell to his knees at the mageling's side and gingerly took her into his arms. "Dalah'surfal! My love, my love!" he called her over and over, his authorative composure falling apart as he is moved to tears at their reunion. "I thought you were dead! Oh, the Light has blessed us! I thought you were dead!"
Lys did not share his enthusiasm. Though she was weak and weary from the portal she'd helped create, she tried her best to push herself away from him and free herself from his suffocating show of affection. But Lysander Lightseeker did not take notice of her discomfort, and he did not let go. He promised quite the opposite. "I'm never letting you out of my sight, my love. I won't lose you again."
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How about a little setting recap, to put us all on the same page? There may have been a little confusion over the course of the story - and a few details that can help things along.
It's been a few weeks since Silvermoon fell. The High Elves have yet to fully regroup after the tragedy, and recovery efforts are paced at an agonizing crawl. The camp they'd made some distance outside of Silvermoon, in the thick of Eversong Woods, was merely one of many makeshift retreats. It was a place for active Farstriders to rest and gather resources before jumping back into the fray - as well as a place for wounded rangers to get a little quick fixing up, before being moved to a safer location. Refugees and casualties are being moved to Sunstrider Isle in the northwest, which was left completely untouched by the Scourge and made easily defensible, or to the Sunsail Anchorage in the southwest, where many refugees have gone to flee overseas, and where the Farstriders manage resource distribution.
The camp they are currently residing in is without a commanding officer at the time, leaving the weak and wounded rangers to fend for themselves until one returns to take control. Again, things are in a state of disarray. It was previously located in an indefensible position, because they were not designed to be held onto - it's a temporary retreat, not a permanent position. But as the relief efforts went on, the camp was saddled with more wounded than it could heal, making it even more difficult to defend, and impossible to abandon. Without help from more Farstriders to transfer the wounded fighters and survivors, they're all stranded in the woods until they can move themselves, or until enough of the casualties die off and lessen the load to be carried. Facing this dilemma, the would-be Magister Lorellan Sunshard assumes command and sets up measures to protect the camp until more help can arrive, teleporting everyone to a nearby plateau, which would be easier for the few combat-ready Farstriders to fight from.
The camp would be sizeable, with three or four tents, all of which filled by either injured or recuperating soldiers. The camp's ranks would be populated mostly by Farstriders, but among them would also be a small group of priests and priestesses of the clergy, led and guarded by the paladin Lysander Lightseeker, called upon to heal the wounded. The fewest in the camp would be actual survivors rescued from the city - possibly only two or three - as the weeks since Silvermoon's fall see the city growing more and more dangerous, and survival steadily grows less likely with each passing day.
Setting details can be rewritten and overwritten if someone needs something adjusted for their story and character. Otherwise, these be the facts, dawg. *Flexes DM muscles.*
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