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Thread: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

  1. #61
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter VIII-V. Knives and Knaves
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    ”Aye, she’s a fine vessel indeed.” Captain Bonecarver, or Bones as Jaina dutifully corrected herself, concluded proudly. ”Old King Terenas ’ad the right idea but lacked the coin to see it through. He combed his shores for an’one with a bit of sailing experience an’ commissioned her from Boralus itself. But then ’is coffers dried up an’ the year after we all ate that grain from Andorhal an’, well… So she was just a hulk laying there waitin’ for ’er masts ’til the Dark Lady came an’ wanted to set sail. Bloody marvellous sight, her an’ those rangers of hers raisin’ the masts by themselves. No cranes or anything.”

    ”What’s she called?” Jaina asked.

    ”Well, with all the dark ’n secret stuffs ’n all, we never got around…”

    Jaina considered herself a fairly rational person but sometimes sense of tradition and superstitions could overtake even her.

    ”You didn’t name your ship?!”

    The captain shrugged and looked almost ashamed before Jainas indignation. Granted, it wasn’t her ship but still. This was a matter of principle, for Tides’ sake!

    ”And another thing, captain Bones, what in all sandwich-thieving seagulls is that supposed to be?”

    ”What, the forecastle?”

    ”It’s a travesty. Here you have a perfectly good frigate – lovely lines, truly – and who in their right mind will put an imbalancing, wind-catching lump like that on the fore deck?! What was Terenas thinking?”

    ”Well, those things tend to come on handy when the boarding actions get going.”

    ”But she’s a frigate, she’s not supposed to ever get close enough to a larger vessel for that. That’s what the c…”

    Jaina looked around in slight disbelief.

    ”Where are the main deck cannons, captain?”

    ”What cannons?”

    ”Don’t tell me… Don’t tell me there is a whole gun deck below us without any guns.”

    Captain Bones chuckled heartily, or a heartily as an undead man could.

    ”Dear lady, why would the king waste good iron on cannons for a ship he couldn’t afford to finish?”

    ”Common decency.” Jaina muttered. ”A frigate without cannons, that’s… ’Nothing like a stiff broadside to get your point across.’” she quoted both her parents.

    ”Well, we’ll have to take that up with the Dark Lady. Who knows, if the armourers can spare enough iron, one day maybe.”

    ”Bronze, captain Bones. Iron cannons are for amateurs, they never hold up.” Jaina said dismissively.

    Captain Davey Bones regarded her with such amusement that it finally gave Jaina pause.

    ”I got a little carried away, didn’t I?” she mumbled.

    ”You’ve got spirit, my lady, an’ that’s a precious gift.” he grinned. ”An’ you’re not wrong, I reckon.”

    ”You…really think I should talk to the Dark Lady, I mean to Lady Windrunner?”

    ”Talk to me about what, Lady Proudmoore?”

    Jaina let out a startled gasp and literally jumped on the spot and spun around. How could someone so imposing and dressed in full battle gear – light or not – move without a sound?

    ”I hear my paltry navy is due for considerable reforms in the near future, Lady Admiral Proudmoore?” Sylvanas drawled.

    ”I just think the ship would benefit from some adjustments. And perhaps a few cannons…” Jaina managed weakly. Tides, it was hard to even think when Sylvanas was standing so very close to her.

    ”Well, you shall have to take it up with my blacksmiths once we are home then.”

    ”How long will that take, if I may ask?”

    ”That you may, Lady Proudmoore.” Sylvanas husked and a shiver coursed through Jaina. ”Captain?”

    ”About two weeks. I think it’ll be a good time to set course east in a couple o’ days or so.”

    Sylvanas nodded but Jaina frowned. A couple of days or so?

    ”Not that I want to sound alarming now, but we are sure about our current position, right?” Jaina asked and tried to keep her voice as level as possible.

    ”The east coast of Kalimdor.” Sylvanas answered while keeping her expression completely even.

    Jaina rolled her eyes.

    ”I hope you are aware of the existence of this rather unpleasant maelstrom in the middle of the ocean. Whatever differences we have, or imagine having, I am sure none of us wish to end up close to that. So in the mutual interest of continued survival, are we quite sure about when and where to set course east?”

    Captain Bones grimaced and actually looked quite troubled.

    ”Tell the truth, we never ’ad a lot to go by from the start. Lordaeron’s never been much interested in seafarin’ ’n exploring, that’s something we’re happy to leave to Kul Tirans, an’ I reckon the same goes for me. I plied me trade ’tween Lordaeron ’n Kul Tiras, ’n I know the reefs ’n banks back home like the back of my hand – though I suppose both’re a bit worse for wear now – but I wasn’ intendin’ to cross oceans anytime soon.”

    ”Neither was I, actually. All I ever wanted was to study.” Jaina said and swallowed the melancholy that admission had conjured. ”But Theramoore can not survive without its trade and fishing so we mapped the coast closest to us and I have it in pretty good memory. May I have a look at your sea charts, captain?”

    With three people later bent over it the desk in the captains cabin seemed even smaller than before. Jaina was soon biting her lip and furrowing her brow worse than ever this day. As experienced as the captain was on deck, the navigational logs left a lot to be desired. Did they really intend to chance it on basically following previous course changes backwards to Lordaeron? What about currents and drift and… Jaina bit back any exasperated sighs that threatened to come out. This wasn’t their fault. Captain Bones did what he could with the knowledge he had, but he hadn’t grown up being the Lord Admirals daughter. And he was quite right in that only Kul Tirans had the yearning for maritime exploration to invest vast resources in the kind of oceanic navigation that remained a quite abstract concept for most traders and fleets focused on traversing the coasts of the eastern kingdoms. If you saw no land you simply turned east again until you had the shoreline back in view and that was that.

    It was in a way very telling. This had to be the normal state of things for the Forsaken. They had to make do with what they had and what they had was almost certainly never enough.

    ”With all respect, captain, I am not quite sure following the opposite course back to Lordaeron will be enough to ensure we don’t end up wrong.” Jaina begun hesitantly when they were back on the quarterdeck. Was she really going to do this? ”Even though I will not deny that the most becoming method of navigation for the Forsaken fleet is without a doubt ’dead reckoning’, so to say...” Jaina couldn’t help herself.

    Captain Bones guffawed while Sylvanas made a sound that sounded very much like a suppressed groan and ”Not another one...”.

    Jaina straightened her back and stepped forward. She raised her hand in an impeccable Alliance sailors salute.

    ”Navigator Jaina Proudmoore reporting for duty, captain!”
    Last edited by Maltacus; October 05, 2022 at 11:34 PM.
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  2. #62
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter IX-I. Portals and Promises
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Spending the better part of the day in bed did not prevent Jaina from feeling, aptly enough, bone tired by the evening, and it was telling that not even the prospect of going over captain Bones’ notes about the earlier journey managed to prevent her eyelids from slowly dropping. Jaina knew well enough that she would have to study the log meticulously later on but for now she was itching to just skim through it and see what life was like onboard a Forsaken ship. She stretched out to put it back on the desk but found her reach to be just a book-length too short. Not at all wanting to get out of her warm and cosy nest under the blankets Jaina tried to will her arm to temporarily grow just a little more but the uncooperative appendage showed no sign of obliging her.

    Without looking up from her own reading by the desk, Sylvanas reached out and put the book on the desk.

    ”You’re welcome, Lady Proudmoore.”

    ”Thank you.” Jaina said and felt a little sheepish. She burrowed herself a little deeper into her hammock and enjoyed the pleasant scent of salt and ships timber and a trace of metal and leather she was starting to recognize from Sylvanas’ armour. The elf had removed her shoulder pauldrons but were otherwise unchanged from earlier. She was reclining in the one chair of the cabin with a stack of documents in her hand, illuminated by the warm glow from a single lamp. Her legs were stretched out and the silver and dark red armour lacquering went exceedingly well with them, Jaina had to admit. She wondered if Sylvanas carried knives hidden in those boots like Anya.

    Anya was such a piece of work that Jaina could not even begin to place her. Who in their right mind greeted visitors with a knife throwing contest across their bed? But Jaina hadn’t been able to help herself from being a little moved by the obvious enjoyment shared between Anya and Sylvanas, and she would bet her last mana potion that there was a great deal she was unaware of between those two. For a moment Anya had looked just like Jaina felt after her first frost bolt had cleaved Master Antonidas’ desk, and his hearty laughter and applause had shaken Jaina out of her momentary fear of being promptly expelled form Dalaran. Anya looked up to Sylvanas in that very same way, was Jainas distinct impression, and Sylvanas was obviously proud of her. Sylvanas’ apprentice, or Sylvanas’ protégé, but more than that. Her trusted comrade, and confidant maybe.

    At least enough to be entrusted with dangerous archmages, Jaina noted, and almost wished that Anya would be with them right now. There was something so heart wrenching over how the delicate elf had solemnly declared that she would end Jaina if she had to and wept at the thought – that had been a tear, Jaina was sure of it – at the next moment that Jaina found herself most of all wanting to comfort Anya, deadly enemy assassin or not. And it would probably feel quite nice if Anya were to card her hair like that right now. Not having asked Pained to do so sometimes was starting to seem like an outright dumb decision, Jainas pride be damned.

    Or she could be reading far too much into it and Anya could have reacted to a surfacing memory of something entirely different for all Jaina could tell. Tides knew the Forsaken probably had more than enough traumatic experiences to last anyone a lifetime, and beyond in their case. And Anyas fingers running through her hair might as well have been her method of calming her hostage from having a nervous breakdown and not any particular sign of affection.

    Perhaps she could ask Sylvanas? Jaina laughed inwardly at the thought. ”Lady Windrunner, I believe your lieutenant is in acute need of a hug, please summon her now. I would also like to request that she comb my hair until I fall asleep.” Jaina might as well ask Sylvanas to rock her hammock while she was at it.

    Jaina returned her focus to Sylvanas, which came easy enough. Her thoughts were just going around and she needed to think of something else.

    ”What are you reading, Lady Windrunner?” Jaina asked drowsily.

    ”Reports.”

    ”What about?”

    ”Are you in the habit of sharing your military correspondence with heads of hostile nations, Lady Proudmoore?”

    ”I hardly have any, as of now. If they asked really nice, maybe…” Jaina mused, too tired to care if she sounded ridiculous. ”But it is rather note…I mean moot…isn’t it?”

    ”How so?”

    ”Well, I am here as your prisoner and can hardly do anything with the knowledge” Jaina yawned ”and since it must have taken you a few weeks to sail here the information will soon be quite outdated anyway.”

    Sylvanas had shifted her full attention to Jaina, who felt pleasantly warm under her gaze. The elf tilted her head slightly as if Jainas sleepy reasoning amused her.

    ”But there must be a limit to how much paperwork your Forsaken can produce, and I would guess that you have already had time to go through it all on the way here.” Jaina continued.

    ”And what would you deduce from that reasoning then, Lady Proudmoore?”

    Tides, Jaina was getting tired.

    ”That…that the report would be about, or connected to, a recent development that you want to check on. Obviously something related to Theramoore…but you would surely have studied it extensively already since you intended to establish diplomatic relations with us… So, if it’s about something that has happened recently and not about Theramoore itself…” Jainas shutting eyes widened a little. ”Are you reading about me?”

    Jaina was too tired to tell, but it was almost like Sylvanas had stiffened a little.

    ”If you…hypothetically of course…were reading reports about me, what would they say?” Jaina mumbled.

    ”They would say that the hour is growing late and if you intend to serve as my navigator I would prefer to have you rested enough not to plot a course straight into the maelstrom. Good night, Lady Proudmoore.” Sylvanas said dryly and blew out the flame in their lamp.

    ”Good night, Lady Windrunner…” Jaina was already dozing off.

    Sylvanas’ red eyes glowed in the dark above her and Jaina dreamt that the banshee queen was in fact rocking her hammock.
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
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    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
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  3. #63
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    The ship has some unexpected features, and Jaina's offer to take on a new responsibility was a surprise! They don't want to get close to the maelstrom, but I wonder if events will take them there.

  4. #64
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter IX-II. Portals and Promises
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Sylvanas did not consider herself a scholar in any sense of the word. She could, like any commander worth her salt, be said to be a student of military strategy in a more practical sense but elven academics rarely managed to hold her interest. There was a distancing sort of indifference, bordering on condescension, that permeated Quel’Thalas’ scholarly works.

    Proudmoore was an entirely different breed, she had noticed. Over the last couple of days she had practically glued herself to Captain Bonecarver and interrogated him about the ships specifications, construction, rigging, supplies, crew organisation and most of all every conceivable detail he could recall about their previous crossing of the ocean. She had just about fallen asleep with the captains log in her arms and her own notes scattered across her lap. When she reported her conclusions and calculations she did it eagerly and hell-bent on making her listeners understand her reasoning for themselves. As far as Sylvanas could tell it all made a good deal of sense, but she was prepared to trust her captains assessment in any case, and if nothing else it would in the end be Proudmoore herself who would starve to death if she got them lost at sea.

    While Proudmoores thoroughness in navigation was respectable, admirable even, her enthusiasm when speaking of magical matters was nothing short of captivating. The mages eyes lit up like little lanterns and the words tumbled out of her mouth when she delved into her favourite subjects. But the biggest difference between her and the scholars that had formed most of Sylvanas’ opinion of academics was how Proudmoore genuinely cared for her listeners. She didn’t want to impress, she wanted to be understood.

    ”Strictly speaking there are no clear cut boundaries of where and how you can teleport.” her mage explained, looking out from the reeling towards the barely visible coastline. ”It’s more of a slippery slope toward greater and greater risks of disaster. To put it short you want something to latch on to, something that is visible or can be sensed in some other way, such as with the portal anchors. You can teleport blindly but it is extremely risky unless it is to a location you know intimately. Master Antonidas always likened it to walking around in a completely dark, great mansion filled with steep stairs and trapdoors. You can maybe find your way to your own bedroom in the dark but otherwise it’s better to bring a light with you.”

    ”Does distance play a part?”

    ”Yes, certainly. Technically it’s not harder to pinpoint an intended destination far away, it’s just that most times your well-known locations tend to be those nearer to you. But the amount of mana and mental effort required increases with distance, unless you can draw upon a leyline or some similar source of energy. It’s rather like the difference between rowing your boat on a still lake compared to rowing with the current of a river.”

    Sylvanas did not let anything reveal that she was well aware of the things Proudmoore explained. Teleportation magics’ uses and limitations were crucial knowledge for a general of such a magically gifted people as the high elves. But she had to admit that none of the stiff elven magisters had explained things nearly as eagerly and with such colourful metaphors as her mage.

    ”You would make a fine teacher it would seem, Lady Proudmoore.”

    The mage actually blushed at that simple comment. Sylvanas had to admit that it was quickly becoming a pleasant distraction to see how flustered she could make that delightfully impressionable woman. Who would have thought that human ears turned red along with their cheeks and throat?

    ”We will be coming upon a place with a stream and some of us will disembark to provision.” Sylvanas continued in a serious tone. ”The drinking water we have gathered will not last you to Lordaeron and we can not rely solely on fishing during the crossing to keep you fed. I am extending my invitation to you to go ashore with us. However, your magical abilities present a complication.”

    ”You are afraid I will teleport away at the first available opportunity.”

    ”Indeed.”

    ”And you would like to have safeguards against that.”

    ”Naturally.”

    The mage sighed a little and suddenly looked unhappy.

    ”There are no foolproof ways of ensuring that that I know of, short of throwing me into some kind of dungeon heavily warded against arcane magic I suppose. You have some options. You can keep me blindfolded, which would make it harder for me to teleport to a spot within sight. You or a ranger could keep holding my arms to make it harder for me to cast and theoretically it would also make me teleport you along with me if I succeeded, so you could kill me upon arriving. You could force me to lie on the ground or something, as most mages are unaccustomed to casting complicated spells from strange positions, and it’s likely going to be harder for me to maintain my sense of direction when lying down. That’s what I can come up with right now.”

    Sylvanas had watched her intently and as far as she could tell Proudmoore appeared sincere. If anything, she seemed genuinely disappointed with the fact that she could not come up with more ideas to keep herself secured, as if it was all some test given by her Master Antonidas.

    But Proudmoore seemed to have something more on her mind. She looked down and swallowed, her hesitation obvious.

    ”Is there something else, Lady Proudmoore?”

    ”I could give you my word that I will return to the ship with you, Lady Windrunner. Would you trust that?”

    ”No.” Sylvanas tone was curt, unnecessarily so she admitted. But asking her to blindly put her trust in the head of an enemy nation was ludicrous. It was insulting. And Proudmoore should understand that and not look so damned beaten down for it. It was insufferable.

    ”Very…very well. I give you my word anyway, in the hope that it will be good enough one day, Dark Lady.”

    Sylvanas flinched, momentarily rendered speechless. A small smile played at the corner of her mages mouth.

    ”Nobody has ever broken a promise made to the Dark Lady, have they? So long as you don’t hurt me I promise to return to the ship with you.”

    ”I have already said that you will not be harmed as long as you do not attempt to escape or attack anyone.” Sylvanas said very stiffly. ”I do not break my word.”

    Proudmoore had the audacity to look at her meaningfully.

    Irritated, Sylvanas turned on the spot and stormed off, assured that the half dozen rangers in close proximity would be enough of a deterrent if her mage got any reckless ideas.
    Her rangers were starting to take after Sylvanas in keeping Proudmoore on her toes by suddenly appearing in close proximity to her and subtly revealing themselves. Sylvanas wouldn’t be surprised if they had made it into some sort of contest of who could elicit the most shocked reaction out of her.

    She found her lieutenant hiding – probably out of habit as much as anything else – behind the main mast.

    ”You heard it all, I presume.” Sylvanas said and motioned for Anya to come with her towards the relative privacy by the bow.

    Anya nodded.

    ”Do you think I should trust her, Anya?”

    ”Would you like to trust her, Dark Lady?”

    Sylvanas reflexively tensed up. It didn’t matter what she would like, you didn’t get to choose if you were betrayed or shunned by the world. And after all the…

    Anya lightly brushed her thumb across Sylvanas’ lips and silenced her inner rant with a single steady look. Tension bled out from her through Anyas hand when it cupped her cheek.

    ”I can practically hear your inner voices telling you what you are allowed or not allowed to do. But that is not what I asked.” Anya gently stroked her fingertips along Sylvanas’ jawline. ”Would. You. Like. To trust her, Sylvanas? Would it be worth something if you were able to truly depend on at least one living person?”

    Sylvanas sighed and looked away. It was not that she… No. That was not what Anya had asked.

    With Anya by her side she needed to look neither left nor right. She was safer in battle with Anya at her back than in her own quarters alone. There were rangers who had many centuries of experience on her lieutenant, rangers who were better shots, quicker fencers and one or two who could match her in stealth. But it was Anya who meant the world to Sylvanas.

    What would it be like if she could one day trust Proudmoore like that? Her ranger at one side and her mage at the other. What a strange thought. And nothing but a stupid fantasy.

    A…not unpleasant fantasy.

    ”If I could trust Proudmoore or anyone else the way I trust you, Anya, I would count myself very fortunate.”

    ”Then my answer to your question is yes. And I will keep watch over Lady Proudmoore for you.”
    Last edited by Maltacus; October 10, 2022 at 01:01 AM.
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    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
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  5. #65
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter IX-III. Portals and Promises
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Sylvanas and her rangers had taken Jainas advice to heart and as they lowered a rope ladder to the waiting longboat below she found herself blindfolded by Anya. Climbing a ladder down a ships side was nothing new to Jaina but doing it without seeing and with another person beside her proved to be quite impractical. Sylvanas’ ghostly lieutenant was however very attentive and made sure Jaina had a firm grip with the arm she held her by before taking another step down herself. Jaina was led to the aft of the longboat where Anya handed her arm over to another ranger.

    ”Clea, you have the watch while we row.”

    Apart from when they were sneaking up on Jaina the dark rangers had kept largely to themselves, always near but never close to her. She didn’t know which one that was Clea, who held her much firmer than Anya so that Jaina almost winced in discomfort. The ship had anchored far from the shore, not daring to take any chances with the rocky Kalimdorian coast.

    It would be a long rowing.

    ”Ranger Clea, do you think you could lighten your grip a little? I’m sorry, but it hurts my arm.” Jaina said as politely as she could.

    Clea said something but she spoke so low that Jaina did not catch it. She did however release her grip a bit to Jainas relief.

    The trip ashore was progressing less than pleasantly though, for along with Jaina being blindfolded and unable to enjoy the scenery Clea tightened her grip time and again, until Jaina started to remind her with a gentle tap on the knuckles from her other free hand. She couldn’t figure out why until it dawned on her that Clea tended to do that as the longboat rolled in especially strong waves. To Jaina it was second nature to shift her weight and parry the movement, it even made her relax. Boats and ships were Jainas cradles, rocked by the sea and lulling her to sleep. But maybe the ranger did not share her comfort.

    ”Clea…are you seasick?”

    Clea whispered something Jaina couldn’t hear.

    ”I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Tiny human ears, you know.” Jaina excused herself.

    She could feel Clea leaning closer to her.

    ”I am sorry, Lady Proudmoore. My death and undeath stole my voice from me.” Clea whispered so close to Jainas left ear that she could feel her breath. ”We do not get sick like the living do. But I will admit that I am not comfortable at sea. It was not my intention to grab you overly hard.”

    Clea spoke Common in the same formal way Sylvanas did, as if she had learnt it a long time ago. Her whispering voice was slightly hoarse, but Jaina found it gentle. Even the ghostly echo was very toned down. Perhaps it was exactly that, an echo, and tied to the owners actual voice in some way.

    ”You should be rowing.” Jaina said with conviction. ”The best cure for seasickness is having something to occupy yourself with.”

    ”Perhaps Anya thought that keeping watch over an archmage of formidable skill should keep my thoughts occupied enough.” Clea mused, and Jaina could swear there was a smile behind those words.

    ”Well, better keep that archmage close at hand then. You never know with those.” Jaina suggested.

    Very slowly, careful not to alarm the dark ranger, Jaina put her right wrist against Cleas hand. She understood Jainas meaning and allowed her right wrist to replace the left in her grip. Jaina resolutely put her freed arm around Cleas back, and almost wanted to whistle or something equally immature upon feeling the toned muscles of the elf.

    To Jainas dismay Clea stiffened at the touch.

    ”Lady Proudmoore, remove your left hand from my back now.” she whispered sternly.

    ”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

    ”No. Not that.”

    Realisation dawned on Jaina.

    ”You’re afraid I would cast something behind your back?

    ”In your own words, you never know with those formidable archmages, Lady Proudmoore.”

    Jaina almost felt like laughing. The whole situation was absurd on so many levels. She gently wrapped her arm around Cleas instead, and tried not to be too distracted by the flexing biceps against her hand when she pulled the elf a little closer.

    ”There. Better?”

    Clea didn’t answer. But Jaina could feel her leaning a bit more into Jainas side, and she didn’t hold Jainas wrist so hard when the next wave hit them.

    She could smell it in the air when they were nearing the shore, the scent of salt and seaweed and wet earth. The weather was clear and it was turning into a warm day, perfect for a little picnic Jaina thought ironically.

    Clea wasted no time getting her and Jaina off the boat. In one move she stepped into the water and before Jaina had time to react in any way she found herself lifted under her arms without further ado and carried ashore like a child. Just as Jaina was about to argue that she was neither child nor damsel someone took hold of her shoulders and spun her around on the spot. It was all so ridiculous – the grim, silent and obviously lethal undead rangers playing with her as if she was their tiny little sister – that Jaina couldn’t stop a nervous, bubbling fit of giggles from overtaking her and sit down in a heap as her wobbly legs gave out.

    ”Archmage on the ground.” Jaina gasped eventually and lay back on the smooth rock. ”Well done, top marks for everyone in archmage keeping it seems.”

    ”We have taken your advice seriously, Lady Proudmoore.” It was Anyas voice, so pleasantly melodic. ”You have been most forthcoming.”

    ”Ah, but it seems you have forgotten to gag me, lieutenant Eversong. What if I utter some terrible old troll curse at you that I’ve picked up from my Horde neighbours?”

    Jaina started to declaim in her best dark and ominous voice, which was unfortunately ruined by her lingering fits of giggles.

    ”Meeny, miny, magic mood…Anya shall become a toad!”

    Jaina pointed forward at random.

    ”A little bit to your right.” Cleas amused whisper told her.

    ”Traitor.” Anya muttered.

    ”Clea” Jaina said more earnestly in the direction of her voice. ”I was thinking, if you’d like I could show you how to splice rope when we get back. It might help to keep your thoughts from the waves.”

    ”So, Lady Proudmoore, you intend to both curse my rangers and press them into your service?” There was no mistaking that voice.

    ”I find myself quite outnumbered, Lady Windrunner, and forced to resort to shameful methods. Divide and conquer, as they say.”

    ”They do indeed, Lady Proudmoore.” Sylvanas drawled. Tides, how did someone manage to sound like a purring cat when pronouncing Jainas last name? ”Shall I need to worry about how you intend to…conquer us all, perhaps?”

    ”You never know, maybe all that has happened is part of my master plan to do just that.”

    ”And maybe I have you exactly where and how I want you, Lady Proudmoore…” Sylvanas’ voice caressed her ears and sent a shiver along Jainas spine, midday sun notwithstanding.

    Jaina was suddenly very reminded of the fact that Sylvanas and a half dozen or so of her almost equally perfect elves were standing over her prone form. Her prone blindfolded form.

    And there it was. Jaina blushing from head to toe, or at least she felt like that. Heat was certainly pooling somewhere in her middle, but it might be due to the sun.

    ”Please sit up, Lady Proudmoore. I will remove your blindfold now.” Jaina could swear Anya was at least half singing when she spoke Common. Jaina couldn’t wait to hear what Thalassian would sound like from her.

    She blinked in the sudden light as Anyas deft hands freed her eyes from their constraint.

    ”We can’t have you blinded for the entire day without robbing your trip ashore of any meaning. Be warned however, that the woodlands around are patrolled and that two rangers will keep watching you with their bows drawn at all time, Lady Proudmoore.”

    ”Charming as always, Anya.” Jaina sighed. She hadn’t talked to Anya since her crazy way of introducing herself and scaring Jaina half to death in the process, but Jaina found that she wanted to. Although preferably without any knife throwing this time. ”Feel free to join me for lunch if any of you tire of skulking in the shadows all the time.” she added dryly to the dark rangers and sat down to open the wrapped up fried Kalimdorian redfin filet.

    Of the rangers Jaina did know the names of she found it easiest to recognize Velonara. The elf was definitely young – which could mean she might be only slightly older than Jainas late grandmother – and had an impish manner which probably accounted for her getting on well with captain Bones’ daughter.

    ”Tell me, Lady Proudmoore, what’s your preference when it comes to dinner? Eel or clam?” Velonara asked and sat down next to Jaina.

    ”Eel or clam? They’re both good, I guess.” Jaina said a little absent-mindedly while munching on her lunch. ”Pretty much anything from the sea works for me. We Kul Tirans have at least a quarter of sea gull in us in that regard.”

    ”Is that so?” Velonara asked, deceptively innocent.

    ”Mhm…actually there’s a rather nice soup you can make with clams, button mushrooms, tomatoes, onions and a sprinkle of lemon juice.”

    ”Ah, so you prefer your clams warm and wet then, Lady Proudmoore?”

    Jaina opened her mouth to point out that it was rather obvious if the dish in question was a soup, but faltered when she noticed Velonaras too wide and too sweet smile. Jaina was obviously missing something.

    Before Jaina could ask Velonara to elaborate Sylvanas had called her up.

    ”Velonara, go and see what you can find of shellfish by the shore since clams appear to be firmly on your mind. I am going hunting in the hills ahead. I would hate to run into someone who was not supposed to be there.” she added in Jainas direction.

    ”Thank you for your kind invitation Lady Windrunner, but as it happens I prefer the beaches for my time off.” Jaina said and tried to match Velonaras smirk in sweetness. ”Would it be acceptable for me to take a bath in the lake? As you know the living prefer to be able to wash up from time to time.”

    Sylvanas stood silent and her features gave no hint of what went through her head.

    ”The water will hardly hide me” Jaina indicated the crystal clear surface ”and I will likely be even less inclined to escape without my clothes on, wouldn’t you agree?”
    ”Very well, Lady Proudmoore.”

    The rangers appeared to be organized into some kind of shifts, which meant that three of them were for the moment without assignments, or perhaps they were standing by as a reserve force in case Jaina would attempt to escape. Whatever the reason, it meant that apart from Jainas two guards there were four more elves lingering close to her, as Velonara apparently had yet to get going with her fishing.

    It also meant that Jaina would have to undress virtually in front of six uncomfortably fit rangers who had nothing better to do than watch her.

    Jaina sighed. She normally kept herself too busy to pay much heed to how she looked but she couldn’t help thinking that in the present company she would somehow manage to stand out as both skinny and flabby at the same time. Ever since settling in Theramoore, and especially the last months when she had practically hidden herself away in shame and grief, Jaina realised she had spent far too much time behind her desk. Tides, she really had. But there was nothing to be done about it at the moment and she could really use a bath.

    Jaina did honestly appreciate how Sylvanas’ dark rangers were going out of their way to gather food and water for her, it was in fact a little touching even if she was their captive. But she would have appreciated it a lot more if they could have kept their comments to themselves as Jaina tried to get in the water as fast as she could, and in her haste just entangled herself even more in her clothes.

    ”Not a bad view on this trip.”

    ”Who knew mages had so much to show?”

    ”I feel enchanted already.”

    ”Clea would probably have liked to be here and hold onto more of her.”

    ”A shame to hide such pretty things under those rags, wouldn’t you say?”

    ”I can see why the Dark Lady would want to capture that one.”

    Jaina knew they were mocking her, they were even speaking Common, and it shouldn’t bother her but somehow it still did and she felt her face burning by the time she was far enough out to submerge in the pleasantly warm water. The lake was a kettle-like large hole that the adjoining stream had dug out in the sandstone over untold ages. It even had a miniature island in the middle made up of a few boulders of varying size, and was deep enough for Jaina to swim comfortably in. She was starting to feel a bit better. Swimming was one of the things apart from magic that Jaina was actually good at and it was a relief to be able to stretch her arms and legs in the water.

    Jaina could faintly hear Anya shooing Velonara off to her tasks.

    ”Be careful Anya, don’t let yourself be dragged down by the sirens. I hear they are especially alluring in this lake.” was Velonaras parting remark.

    ”I make no promises.” Anya answered.

    Something was different, Jaina noticed, and realised the next second that they were now speaking Thalassian for some reason. Jainas grasp of the language was decent, good enough to get through elven magic literature but she had rarely had reason to practise speaking it.

    The next thing she noticed was that her clothes were gone.

    Jaina cursed under her breath, damning all rangers and their twisted ideas of humour and normal courtesy. Well, if that was it she might as well keep swimming for a while and let them waste more time squinting at the sunny water surface. Although she wasn’t sure if undead eyes were as bothered by it as living ones. The thought gave Jaina an idea however, a much more dangerous one.

    She started to repeatedly swim out underwater, surface to catch some air and then swim back to the shoreline as if following some kind of exercise, making sure to kick up lots of splashing water when diving. When she stole a glance at her watchers they appeared slightly wary at first but the settled back into their usual postures.

    Teleportation was a spell that relatively speaking took a lot of effort, time and concentration to cast.

    Invisibility was not, and together with frost and portal spells it was one of Jainas best fields.

    The next time she dove, she kicked up as much water as she could and headed for the bottom of the lake. Letting herself slow down she focused her mind, drew upon her mana, and disappeared from sight.

    Jaina wanted to cheer but being underwater that was of course less than optimal. Instead she tried to aim as best she could for the far side of the small isle and took off, keeping below the surface and being careful to disturb it as little as possible. Invisibility was highly useful but there were countless tales of mages who squandered the benefits by their inability to stay discreet. Footsteps in the snow or ripples in the water would reveal anyone no matter how cloaked.

    Her lungs were crying out for air by the time Jaina crawled halfway out of the water and tried to breathe as quietly as se could while listening for any signs that she had been spotted. She thought she could hear fragments of rapid Thalassian and suddenly a large splash. That had to be good, at least one ranger had bought into the idea that Jaina had disappeared deep into the lake. Now was the time. She drank in as much mana as she could hold and reached out with her mind across leylines and the obscure arcane signatures of Kalimdor, leading her to the familiar ones of Theramoore and her own tower and her own bedroom in front of the desk. There. Jaina kept her focus on that specific spot as she weaved her portal spell. A portal was almost similar to a teleportation spell but the fact that you stepped through the portal instead of instantly being moved by the spell itself made it a little slower to use and a little safer if you were unsure if you had targeted the right destination. Walking into a cliffside was after all marginally safer than hurling yourself into it, to put in bluntly.

    Jaina let the portal grow to half her height. If she was right she could crawl across it well enough but if she was wrong it would perhaps not alert the rangers. Portal spells were many things but discreet were not among them. It was ready. She just had to move now. She would hardly get another chance like this again.

    The sun was warming Jainas back. In the distance she could hear the waves rolling over rocks and the calls of the gulls. And more than that, unless the birds had suddenly learned to speak Thalassian in frantic voices.

    ”…supposed to watch…”

    ”…swear we saw no portals or flashes!” Anya cried out.

    Damn the portals! What about the woods?! What about the river?! What if she’s !"#¤%& drowned!” That was Sylvanas’ voice. And she was furious. And…worried?

    ”I’ll check again!” Velonara did not sound the least bit smug or mischievous this time. And there was a second splash.

    Jaina was wasting precious time. The dark rangers could find her at any moment and there was no telling how Sylvanas would react to finding her hiding from them. Slamming Jaina into a wall with her clawed gauntlet at her throat and eyes burning through her would probably be the least. Jaina shook her head. Where had that image come from?

    Jaina!

    Jaina froze. That was Anyas voice and it cut through Jainas heart.

    Jaina stretched across the portal and found that she had done everything right. She snatched up a paper from her desk and her ever-ready pen and scribbled hurriedly with horrible penmanship and big splotches from the dripping water. Then she withdrew herself and let the portal close.

    Jaina dove and swam out around the other side of the isle, heading for the shore. She was met by Sylvanas who looked just as fuming as Jaina had imagined. Tides, she looked impressive from below.

    ”He-hello, Lady Windrunner. I hope your hunt was successful?” Jaina stuttered, and prayed that her shakiness would be attributed to being winded from swimming.

    ”Indeed it was. I hope your swim was satisfactory, Lady Proudmoore.” Sylvanas said with icicles growing from every word.

    ”Indeed it was. Lovely day for a swim.” Jaina said flippantly just as Velonara and another ranger were crawling out of the water a little to her left, looking somehow like wet dogs with their tails between their legs.

    ”Apparently.” Jaina added with a raised eyebrow towards the pair.

    ”Dark Lady.” the taller one acknowledged Sylvanas with a hoarse whisper.

    Clea.

    ”You are…nimble in the water, Lady Proudmoore.” Velonara said slowly, as if she didn’t quite know what to say. ”I would be inclined to trace your lineage from seals rather than gulls.”

    ”However that may be I retain my very human need for clothing and would require mine returned promptly.” Jaina pointed out, rather sternly.

    Sylvanas ceased her scrutiny of Jaina and looked around irritably.

    ”Anya?” she demanded.

    Anya hesitated. Jaina looked closer at her. She did look tense. And there was a thin, faint dark line running down from one eye.

    ”Dark Lady. Lieutenant.” another ranger begged their attention. Jaina could see little of her except the hood of her cloak that was pulled forward and two curtains of shiny dark hair, black like ink so it appeared almost blue. ”Lady Proudmoore, I have your clothes here.”

    The ranger set them down carefully in front of Jaina, neatly folded, and the jacket looked like it had been brushed a bit. And the shirt and pants now sported well sewn stitches where there had before been tears and holes.

    ”Thank you…I don’t know your name, dark ranger.” Jaina said, surprised and not needing to pretend to sound grateful.

    ”Lyana. And you’re welcome, Lady Proudmoore.”

    Jaina only caught a glimpse. But somewhere behind those curtains there was a small smile.

    Clea and Veonara were shaking off the worst of the water and retrieving their bows and quivers. As eager as Jaina was to try out whole clothes for a change she was less inclined to have them soaked the first thing she did.

    ”I didn’t know seals needed towels when there are so many sunny rocks to lie on.” Velonara smirked, back to what seemed to be her usual self Jaina noticed. Anya however knelt and removed her cloak, and held it out for Jaina to wrap herself in.
    Last edited by Maltacus; October 11, 2022 at 06:57 AM.
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
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    Reviewed by Alwyn in the Critics Quill
    My Dread Lady, a Warcraft Total War AAR - 27 chapters done.
    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
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  6. #66
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    The fine line between impish humour and implied (or explicit) threat in Jaina's banter with the dark rangers is intriguing. The dark rangers seem torn between their elvish heritage and their undead natures, and Jaina seems torn too, between escaping by magical means and continuing the adventure that she's on (or, at least, avoiding getting in trouble for trying to use magic to escape).

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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter IX-IV. Portals and Promises
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Jaina leaned against the mizzen masts shrouds and watched Kalimdor disappear beneath the horizon. The afternoon was turning into evening and the sun was setting all quicker each day. Autumn was approaching, which meant that the weather here was warm rather than scorching hot.

    Had she done the right thing? It would have been so very, very easy to crawl through that portal and be back into her tower like nothing had happened. It would have been wise, probably, and safe, and proper, and in every way what Jaina should have done.

    Except.

    Except things could not be like nothing had happened because something had happened and Jaina was in the middle of it. And she had given Sylvanas her word. Her Dark Lady, Jaina smiled to herself. No, the Dark Lady of course, she corrected herself. Just a minor mental typographical error after a long day, nothing more.

    Sylvanas still frightened her, of course. But she had stayed true to her own promises and in her own demanding way she had cared for Jaina, and the same had to be said of her rangers despite all their antics. They were still wary of her, and their hands never seemed to linger far from their weapons, but perhaps there were more than Anya who would not relish drawing them.

    About half the regular crew had approached at some time to mutter their names so far and Jaina had returned their greetings with all the politeness she could muster. She’d had little time to get to know anyone except the captain as they were always busy with something, but Jaina had decided that she wanted to rectify that.

    There was no denying it. Jaina was curious of the Forsaken.

    Whatever captain Bones lacked in off-shore experience he made up for in deck work. Jaina had seldom seen a better drilled crew weighing anchor and readying the ship for their departure. There were some differences from living sailors that stood out. One was how the Forsaken would double up when pulling ropes, even if they did not seem too heavy to pull and Jaina had seen them all carry burdens with an ease that matched the brawniest human deckhands. The captain had explained how most Forsaken had difficulties healing their injuries without help, and even minor scratches or bruises were troublesome of they piled up. Pulling ropes was one of those everyday task that now presented a risk and not just a hassle. Jaina had suggested gloves for them, custom-tailored and lined with silk or something of equal strength and smoothness. Sylvanas had nodded at the idea but dryly told her that she would have to get in line before the Forsaken leatherworkers.

    Be that as it may, tomorrow Jaina would ask if she could teach Clea how to splice and help the crew fix up some of the ropes at least. It was a long time since Jaina had tried out that kind of work but she was sure she could catch up and she would need something to occupy herself with during the journey. Maybe Clea and Anya could become friends in time. Maybe Lyana too – Jaina really appreciated not having to feel like she was dressed in a sieve when the wind was blowing – and even Velonara if she could get used to her teasing. Jaina would just have to grit her teeth and endure the jabs at her human clumsiness she guessed.

    There was a certain word that brash and reckless mages like Rhonin or Master Antonidas in his younger days (not Jaina of course because she would never even think of sailing across half the world to battle demons alongside orcs and night elves) would use in her situation. They would call it an adventure, Jaina thought, and a small smile tugged at her lips.
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
    An Orcs Tale, a Third Age AAR - Completed.
    Reviewed by Alwyn in the Critics Quill
    My Dread Lady, a Warcraft Total War AAR - 27 chapters done.
    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter IX-V. Portals and Promises
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    ”Dear Pained
    Am alright. Gone on mission I believe vital for peace and safety of Theramoore Azeroth. Will contact you report when able. Keep desk area clear.
    Tell people not to worry. Delegate tasks.
    Jaina”

    Pained put down the letter for latest of…how many times she couldn’t say. Jaina was alive, and unharmed enough to open a portal and drop this atrociously scribbled and splotchy note. That was what was important. And if she had opened a portal it meant that she was able to cast, and if she was able to cast she would not be kept wherever she was against her will. Anyone attempting that would soon have cause to regret it.

    Pained bared her teeth. If she found out that Jaina had so much as scraped a knee, or worse been allowed to malnourish and mistreat herself further, she would rend whoever was behind this limb from limb. But Pained also knew how impossible it was to stop Jaina from doing what she had set her mind upon, and perhaps a ludicrously dangerous diplomatic quest was what she actually needed instead of caging herself inside her tower.

    Just not alone.

    Pained looked miserably around the little room. How empty the desk and bed looked without Jaina in it. How quiet the towers upper floor was.

    ”Come home soon, my lady” Pained whispered.
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
    An Orcs Tale, a Third Age AAR - Completed.
    Reviewed by Alwyn in the Critics Quill
    My Dread Lady, a Warcraft Total War AAR - 27 chapters done.
    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
    Reviewed by Boustrophedon in The Critics Quill

  9. #69
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter X-I. Tides and Trust
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    ”So you need to go pretty far up in order to make the two halves hold properly, and make sure you pull the whole length through, like this. Don’t hold back with the fid, this rope is supposed to be strong enough to be a halyard so you will have to be firm.”

    Jaina was sitting with Clea and a ranger called Kitala Starshadow in a partly sheltered corner of the main deck with a heap of torn ropes in front of them and rolls of twine at her side. The rangers were, to her secret relief, paying attention to what Jaina was showing them and soon matching her movements deftly with callused but nimble fingers.

    ”Good! Now, put the cord like this and keep it pulled tight all the time as you wind it and tie the whipping knot.”

    When Kitala reached down to pick up more cord Jaina noticed that the left side of her hood was sewn shut instead of having the usual slit for the long elf ears. She averted her eyes, not wanting to stare, but Clea apparently noticed all the same.

    ”I can hardly speak and Kitala only has one ear. We make a fine pair, would you not say, Lady Proudmoore?” she whispered.

    ”One and a half.” Kitala corrected her. It sounded like a long recurring routine between the two.

    Seeing Jaina's momentary confusion Kitala turned her head and to Jaina's surprise pulled back her hood, which was something the dark rangers seemed to almost never do publicly. Kitala had unusually protruding ears, making her almost a little cat-like, and one had been cut about the middle and was as Kitala had stated, half an ear. The edge was slightly jagged and while it appeared to have healed properly a long time ago Jaina found the sight so pitying that she instinctively reached out to brush her knuckles against it, but Kitala shuddered at her touch and jerked her head away.

    ”Oh! I’m so sorry Kitala, did I hurt you? I wasn’t thinking.” Jaina apologized, utterly shame-faced at the thought of her pawing at someone else's ears like that without asking. What had gotten into her?

    ”No…not like that, just… It is a very…close thing to do. Elven ears are very sensitive.” Kitala seemed slightly at loss for words.

    ”And my partner’s more than most.” Clea smirked.

    Jaina wanted to sink through the deck.

    ”I, I do apologize, deeply…” Jaina stuttered, turning red as a beet.

    ”Your touch was not…unpleasant.” Kitala whispered, but Jaina had been so struck by another revelation that she barely registered it. A pair. ”My partner’s more than most.

    ”You’re not…Are you two…Kitala, are you and Clea…partners?” Tides, this couldn’t be happening, had Jaina just barged in to stroke her ear in front of – Tides!

    To Jaina's astonishment, Kitala started to laugh. A light, merry, bright chuckle completely unexpected from one of the dark rangers.

    ”Clea and I are ranging partners, Lady Proudmoore. We have been for decades. Every ranger is paired with another, we watch each others backs all the time, we scout together, eat together, make camp together. Two lone rangers will fail many times over where a trusting pair will prevail.”

    ”But we are not - what do you humans call it - ”engaged” to one another.” Clea added, also amused. ”So you need not worry about coming between an elf and her possessive mate, Lady Proudmoore.”

    Jaina breathed a sigh of relief inside. No eleven blood feuds would be looming it would seem, that was good, so now she only had to deal with having acted like a tactless moron. Though Kitala didn’t exactly appear insulted, in fact she was still in fits of laughing.

    ”None the less, there are still quite a few misconceptions and myths about rangers and their partners and we have attracted our fair share of romantic recruits who have ended up sorely disappointed.”

    ”Although not always.” Clea smiled. ”And on occasion, ranging partners have been known to hunt in packs…”

    Jaina cleared her throat, thinking frantically about another subject that would not contribute to her imminent immolation from the inside.

    ”While we are on the subject of…rangers…some of you have rather, ah, grim surnames and some are more…” Jaina's question ran out as she realised that this line of inquiry was perhaps not the best way to appear more culturally sensitive.

    ”More what, Lady Proudmoore?” Kitala teased with a wide smile, clearly seeing Jainas distress and thriving on it. Along with her ears she had expressive large eyes and a broad mouth, and what Jaina supposed you called quite full lips, which all became very notable when set in the typically narrow elven face. Perfect features for the teasing of a poor archmage. Only Velonara matched her in natural talent.

    Luckily Clea took pity and came to Jaina's rescue.

    ”Some Forsaken choose to discard their former family names, some to keep them and some to take new ones. It is a personal choice and everyone has his or her own reasons for it. So you will find both grim Deathstriders and poetic Starshadows among us.” she added with almost a wink at Jaina.

    Jaina's curiosity was gaining on her embarrassment and she wanted to ask a dozen more questions, but before she could proceed with her interrogation Clea and Kitala were called away, to be replaced by captain Bones who came by to have a look at the splices.

    ”Ye’ve all got some things t’ work on but I’ve seen worse from firs’ time tries. Nice work showin’ the dark lasses the ropes so to say, Lady Proudmoore.” he complimented as he sorted through the fruits of their labours. ”Looks like ye ’ave a good hand with ’em.” he grinned.

    ”I don’t know about that.” Jaina refuted, thinking that she had so far mostly managed to stumble through their conversation and make a fool of herself.

    ”Those rangers, they’re a secretive bunch. Few o’ us ’ave the opportunity to get close to ’em but everyone knows they’re always out there for us. Always watching for danger, ’n always the first to strike.” he mused thoughtfully. ”An’ they might look more whole ’an the rest o’ us, but…tha’s just on the outside.”

    Captain Bones sat down next to her.

    ”It’s got to take some special kind o’ bastard to do that sort of number on someone's soul…we’ve all heard their screams ’n…anyway. I don’t know all ’bout the politics ’n circumstances around his journey but…seein’ you care ’bout ’em like you have despite bein’ supposed to be on the other side of things means a damn lot ’n I for one will drink to the day you first stepped onto my ship, Lady Proudmoore.”

    ”I maintain that this is all a misunderstanding and we should rightfully be allies against the Scourge.” Jaina said with conviction, partly to dodge thinking up an answer to the unexpected recognition from captain Bones, especially so in light of how Jaina had acted at first when they had met.

    ”An’ deep down I think all of us knows that, even our Dark Lady. But give it time.”

    ”You care about the dark rangers too.” Jaina concluded rather than asked.

    ”Aye. They may be centuries my senior but I still see my Haley in half o’ ’em…” he admitted, his voice hoarser than usual.

    ”Clea and Kitala told me how some Forsaken changed their names. Is Bonecarver a new name in that way?”

    ”Hah! It fits right in, doesn’ it? No, it’s these bloody Lordaeronian landlubbers who can’ pronounce ’Scrimshander’! See, it used to be somethin’ of a family business, scrimshawing, an’ stuck to us as a name. But when I moved to sail the Lordaeron waters I tired of everyone goin’ dumb as a post an’ changed it to somethin’ they’d understand. But ghostly enough it be, hah!”

    ”You’re Kul Tiran?!”

    ”Aye, born and raised. Actually” he added with an unsettling grin ”I remember seein’ old admiral Proudmoore running around the docks looking for his wee daughter climbin’ every box ’n crane while all the dockworkers ’n sailors laughed themselves half to death an’ shouted at him to put ye in the crows nest or spare himself the trouble an’ give ye a commission righ’ away.” Captain Bones chuckled. ”I can still see him ’fore me, all red in ’is face with his hat blown off ’n huffin’ ’n puffin’ at you while you lectured him on every vessel in the harbour. An’ he tried to seem stern but everyone could see him beamin’ with pride at ye.”

    Jaina swallowed. And swallowed. And swallowed. And the lump in her throat would still only grow.

    ”It’s been some time since an’one of us have been able to hear somethin’ from the isles, with all the…” Captain Bones cleared his throat. ”How’s the old admiral doin’ these days?”

    ”I led the survivors from Lordaeron across the sea to Kalimdor to fight the demons of the Burning Legion who controlled the Scourge.” Jaina begun in a low and hollow voice. ”We succeeded but at great cost. And we only succeeded because we made peace with the orcs and then with the night elves and stood together. We settled in Theramoore after that, to live in peace next to the orcs and trolls in Durotar. I wanted this to be something new, something better for everyone. I wanted us to build a city that could be open to all. And we needed each other, to trade and cooperate, and I think we still do. But then my father came with his fleet.”

    Jaina's breath hitched. She couldn’t hold her tears back.

    ”He wouldn’t listen to me. He wouldn’t listen. He hunted the orcs like beasts – worse, like monsters! Everyone! Their old and their children too! I begged him to stop it!” Jaina sniffed. ”His fleet had made Theramore its headquarters and effectively taken control over my city. In the end I choose to warn Thrall, the Hordes warchief, and to stand aside to let them attack Theramoore and kill my father in exchange for their promise to spare my people if they could.”

    Jaina was shaking now, clutching her knees as ragged sobs wracked her body.

    ”The orcs just wanted some !"#¤%&ing peace!” Jaina slammed her fist into the deck, where a flowery pattern of frost bloomed out. ”Why couldn’t he leave us all the hell alone! I was handling it! We could have built something instead.” Jaina took a few ragged breaths to calm herself. ”So there you have it. Lord Admiral Daelin Proudmoore was betrayed by his own daughter.” she finished with corrosive bitterness.

    Captain Bones said nothing for a while, neither condolences nor condemnation.

    ”It’d appear the good man who was the Lord Admiral died a long time ago then… It’s a shame to hear what he turned into.” he said quietly.

    ”The day we lost Derek. My eldest brother.” Jaina croaked. ”My father saw it happen, they said. He never laughed again after that.”

    ”Tale as old as time, ain’t it…” Captain Bones sighed. ”In my humble opinion, ye’re allowed to miss the dad ye had without agreein’ with who he became. Seems plain obvious to me which admiral had the right idea of things…” he grunted and rose to let Jaina grieve alone. ”If I was alive, it would’ve been my honour to sail under the flag of Theramoore, Lady Proudmoore.”

    Jaina reached inside her shirt and felt her fathers silvery anchor pendant – no, her pendant now – in her hand.

    ”You were wrong, and I will show you that. This time I will make it right.” she whispered and curled up in her corner with her head against her knees, crying months worth of pent-up tears and longing for the father of her childhood.

    A shadow moved on soundless feet behind her. It reached down, and then it was gone again without a trace, save for the dark ranger cloak that lay draped around Jaina's shoulders.
    Last edited by Maltacus; October 22, 2022 at 09:45 AM.
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  10. #70
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    I enjoyed Jaina's note, with its hints about the personalities of both Jaina and Pained, and Jaina's misunderstandings and discoveries as she gets to know the crew. It sounds like these experiences are causing Jaina to think differently about some painful memories.
    Last edited by Alwyn; October 23, 2022 at 09:24 AM.

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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Quote Originally Posted by Alwyn View Post
    It sounds like these experiences are causing Jaina to think differently about some painful memories.
    More precisely the orc campaign in the Frozen Throne expansion for Warcraft 3, ending with Jaina siding with her orc neighbours rather than her genocidal father, which scars her emotionally and makes her home nation regard her as a traitor.
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
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    My Dread Lady, a Warcraft Total War AAR - 27 chapters done.
    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter X-II. Tides and Trust.
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Becalmed. Sylvanas had quickly learned to hate the word. A painted ship upon a painted ocean was what they might as well be. Worse, even. At least a painting could be pleasant to look at and serve some form of purpose.

    They had a week to Lordaeron if her mage and her captain were correct. A week. It felt like a year now, and every day, every hour, was one more for the Scourge or Scarlets to creep closer to the Undercity.

    Sylvanas had been staring angrily at the unyielding sky for the better part of the morning. By midday she was pacing, and everyone in her crew gave her a wide berth. With every sail hanging limp the crew busied themselves with whatever maintenance they could and she had heard some sailors muttering about bad luck from one source or the other, not least the ship lacking a proper name. On another day it would have been comical how maritime superstitions transcended even such concrete experiences as actually dying and being raised again but Sylvanas was in no mood for nonsense this day.

    ”Rangers! One squad to the longboat with me, we’re getting this barge home!”

    She had to do something before she exploded, or Wailed.

    The remaining longboat was quickly lowered and captain Bonecarver's crew fastened a mooring cable between the ship and its meagre boat. Three pairs of oars, to move a vessel weighing tonnes. Sylvanas grabbed one of the foremost oars and gave the order to row.

    The ship would not move. The mooring cable stretched, only to contract and pull the longboat back in, or at least that was all that seemed to happen.

    ”Lay into it!” Sylvanas barked as the oars creaked, boding ill to anyone with the mind to listen to them. ”Clea, Kitala, pull!”

    The last two were standing, or rather leaning back now, at the aft and bracing their feet against the longboats hull while holding the cable. Sylvanas did not trust any part of the longboat to bear the full load without aid. Furiously, she doubled her own efforts as well…and was rewarded with the splintering crack of her oar breaking in two. The sorry thing reminded her in a sickening way of a broken arm, with bone pointing at the wrong angle.

    Biting back a litany of curses and a Wail that was starting to boil deeper inside Sylvanas broke the oar completely and put the stumps down beside her.

    ”Vel’, scoot. I’ll take yours.” Sylvanas growled between clenched teeth. She wanted nothing more than to get this miserable journey underway and be done with it. ”Again!”
    They lasted a dozen strokes this time, and maybe the ship had moved a handbreadth or so. If she squinted. It cost them another two oars, one breaking right after the other.

    Sylvanas really wanted to scream now.

    ”Dark Lady.” Velonara simply said next to her and forced Sylvanas to look up. ”Hey.”

    Velonara did not deserve to be yelled at. Well, not this time anyway. Sylvanas closed her eyes and forced down her anger bit by bit.

    ”We’d better save those remaining oars in case we need to actually row the longboat itself somewhere, don’t you think, Dark Lady?” Velonara was an irredeemable brat but she knew when to be serious.

    ”Fine.” Sylvanas acquiesced. ”Get me some damned planks then that won’t break…” she muttered.

    ”Look, Areiel is waving at us. She’s signing to come aboard.” Kitala called.

    They turned the puny longboat around and Sylvanas kept her hands off any oar this time. Being back on deck did nothing to improve her mood.

    ”What is it, Areiel?” she demanded.

    ”Lady Proudmoore has a suggestion that I believe you need to hear, Dark Lady.”

    Her mage was waiting on the quarterdeck together with captain Bonecarver and a couple of other sailors. Her sunny hair and slightly tanning skin under her clumsy clothes could not have contrasted more with how Sylvanas looked and felt.

    ”Lady Windrunner, we have noticed something important.” Proudmoore begun, looking wary of her mood but continuing after Sylvanas waved at her to do so. ”We have no wind but there is a current here, and we’re drifting approximately south to southwest. It might be connected to the maelstrom, or a separate one, and it isn’t very strong at all. However, with no wind whatsoever and only six oars…”

    ”Three, as it is.” Sylvanas interjected tonelessly.

    ”Yes, well, I think there is a strong possibility we won’t make any progress to speak of while rowing.”

    Sylvanas took an unneeded breath, making her body calm itself from the memory of deep breathing.

    ”Yes, the thought has crossed my mind as well, Lady Proudmoore.” she said impatiently. ”Would you happen to have a better idea?”

    ”Yes, I think I do.” the mage answered eagerly. ”My best area is frost magics but frost spells are essentially water spells, it’s just water conjured and formed at a certain temperature.”

    ”I will not allow you to summon water elementals to tow my ship if that was your idea.” Sylvanas remarked, and briefly watched a spark of interest flash in the clear blue eyes.

    That would be a sight, but it wouldn’t be very efficient I think. Summoning spells are pretty mana intensive and I wouldn’t be able to maintain them long enough for it to be worthwhile. But I think I could create a smaller local current centred around the ship and pull us all along, if you would let me, Lady Windrunner.”

    ”Meaning that I allow you to cast something quite powerful and do it over a prolonged period.”

    ”Yes exactly, channelling rather than casting you might say.”

    ”Out of the question.”

    ”I would…like to help.”

    Was Proudmoore actually giving her doe eyes, just like Vereesa had used to? No, Sylvanas waved the thought away. She had just allowed herself to be momentarily distracted by those eyes, that was all.

    Areiel tugged at her shoulder and nodded to their side. Sylvanas followed her, with Anya in tow.

    ”Dark Lady, I am inclined to let Lady Proudmoore try.” Areiel said, dead serious to Sylvanas’ surprise.

    ”Have you lost your wits? We would allow an enemy archmage to cast freely among us?”

    ”Yes - and please hear me out now. First, Lady Proudmoore is no fool and we have already established that holding her by force alone will be more than this flimsy vessel can take. If this situation persists, how long will it be until she is driven to enough desperation to try something on her own? Something that will surely end in confrontation and in disaster. Second, even if she remains calm, if our food runs out she will die and this whole journey will have been in vain.”

    ”It already has!” Sylvanas snapped, her thoughts returning to the docks in Theramoore and their doomed attempt at negotiating.

    Areiel shot a glance in Proudmoores direction and quirked an eyebrow at Sylvanas, who shied away from it.

    ”We both know you do not mean that.” Areiel stated evenly. ”As I see it there are three probable outcomes here. If our provisions run out our mage definitely dies. If she casts something forbidden and is shot she dies. If she casts and holds true she lives. What would you rather chance?"

    ”Anya? Your opinion?”

    ”If Lady Proudmoore planned to escape or resist us, why would she wait until now to act?” Anya hesitated for a moment. ”When we were ashore at the lake there was a moment when we had lost track of her. I take full responsibility for that. But Lady Proudmoore came back to us.”

    They were both right, however it galled Sylvanas. Yet again, she was simply running out of options.

    ”One entire squad around her with arrows nocked at all time. One ranger holding her arm at all time.”

    Areiel and Anya nodded.
    Last edited by Maltacus; October 24, 2022 at 01:45 PM.
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
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    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
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    Chapter X-III. Tides and Trust.
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    ”Nice to see you all here, I’m glad so many could make it. Although usually when someone claims to perform magic in front of an audience they have a little stage with curtains and such, but I suppose we will have to make do with the quarterdeck.” Jaina joked nervously to the six drawn bows in front of her. She had wanted an opportunity to get to know the dark rangers after all and here they were, she reminded herself. Weapons threateningly raised in her honour and all. Except of course for Anya who stood by her side and held her forearm, but with Anya being Anya that was not necessarily reassuring.

    ”At your convenience, Lady Proudmoore.” Sylvanas said dryly and gestured ahead as if inviting someone to enter a banquet hall.

    Jaina had to take several deep breaths to focus. Not only did she of course wish to avoid having the rangers turn her into a fletched porcupine, she also found that she really wanted this to work. She didn’t want to let them all down.

    With a welcoming familiarity her mana coursed through her, ready to be formed and shaped at her will. Jaina closed her eyes and drank in the far too alluring sensation of her arcane magic singing inside – Tides, she was becoming as addicted to her magic as the Blood Elves. She felt the water beneath her, a still surface as seen from above but in truth a mosaic of currents, temperatures, depths and waves. Jaina had not been called the Daughter of the Sea for nothing.

    At her mental command the water started to flow under and around the ship. There was a faint tug, and they were off.

    ”Helmsman!” Jaina cried out as the ship began to tilt too much from her course.

    A quick apology followed as their helmsman corrected himself.

    ”Merry mother of tides…” captain Bonecarver muttered reverently.

    Jaina opened her eyes to look into half a dozen red gazes in smooth, long-eared and all so handsome pale faces under dark hoods. And surely there was a little less tension among them.
    The rest of the day passed all too slowly. Channelling a spell, simple or not, for hours drained every drop of Jaina's mana and energy. Nor could she lay back – figuratively speaking – and let the magic channel by routine for the sea they traversed shifted subtly and with it the direction in which Jaina had to aim their current if she wanted a maximum return of her efforts. Had it not been for Areiel's and Anya's reminders to take some breaks for eating and resting Jaina would most likely have rooted herself behind the helm.

    Jaina held out until sunset by which time she was swaying slightly where she stood, sea legs notwithstanding. She noted absent-mindedly that the six rangers had assumed a kneeling position sometime during the day and that Anya's cool hand had slid down from her forearm into Jaina's own. It felt…right. Like their hands fitted together.

    Sylvanas naturally had to choose that very moment to repeat the rangers main prank of sneaking up on her.

    ”Thank you, Lady Proudmoore.” she whispered right into Jaina's ear, causing Jaina to jolt and make the ship careen wildly to port. ”Gently now…” Sylvanas purred.

    As if that was a secret cue, a deluge of comments began to rain on her from her ranger guard detail.

    ”You were so good with us today, Lady Proudmoore.”

    ”So gentle and steady.”

    ”You blew us so well ahead.”

    Jaina protested half-heartedly that she had not blown the ship forward but more like waved or flooded it ahead, or whatever you called it when crafting your own private current.

    ”But of course” Velonara agreed with the smooth sugary voice that Jaina had learned spelled immediate danger. ”Flooded is the word. Don’t you currently feel positively flooded, sisters?”

    ”I’m sure she will do an equally good job tomorrow, don’t you think so Lady Proudmoore?” Anya asked just as sweetly.

    Jaina yawned something about doing her best in response. Tides, she just wanted to go to bed right now.

    ”Did you hear, sisters? Lady Proudmoore has promised to give us an equally good job tomorrow to blow us until we’re just as flooded as today.”

    Jainas poor head tried and failed miserably to keep track of every illogical jump and double meaning Anya and Velonara was hurling at her. Couldn’t she just be allowed to deal with that in the morning instead?

    ”That’s enough. Behave.” Sylvanas growled at the rangers. She offered Jaina her arm and Jaina gratefully took it, almost too tired to spare a thought for the fact that she was actually walking arm in arm with Sylvanas. The banshee queen escorted Jaina down the stairs and around her corridors and into their cabin.

    ”Save some of your strength tomorrow evening and you may use it to conjure water or food for yourself if you so wish, Lady Proudmoore.” Sylvanas said as Jaina was crawling into her hammock.

    Jaina nodded, and was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
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    Reviewed by Alwyn in the Critics Quill
    My Dread Lady, a Warcraft Total War AAR - 27 chapters done.
    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
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    Chapter X-IV. Tides and Trust
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    The wind had not returned the next day, or the next.

    Jaina took her station early in the mornings and held it until she felt she was leaning on Anya for support as much as Anya was guarding her from teleporting. That tended to be the signal for lunch, and the short rest that Anya and Areiel kept insisting on. Jaina was slowly beginning to get more comfortable in the ranger captains presence. They had not shared many words, honestly, but there was a solid directness about Areiel that inspired confidence. Jaina felt somehow sure that she was not the kind of person who would waste time on being spiteful when decency would get the job done. Areiel did keep Jaina's guards alert – it had been secretly relieving to learn that Forsaken could in fact become just as bored and lazy as the living – but tended to soften the impact of her admonishment with jokes or ironic comments about what their terrifying and apparently quite vicious archmage might do to them if they didn’t keep their guard up. Jaina had seldom heard such a gruesome list of how her magic could apparently be misused and what repugnant changes to their physiology the dark rangers were apparently risking simply by being in Jaina's vicinity, if she understood the ranger captain correct.

    Jaina actually appreciated Areiel's crude sense of humour a lot when she had to keep almost all her attention on the water and the hull it was flowing around. It was certainly less tiring than keeping track of all the dark rangers’ ridiculously far-fetched innuendos and twisting of just about every word she said. After a while she was getting caught up in it and beginning to pass the time making up more home-brewed troll curses, which the rangers immediately and gleefully adopted.

    ”Tauren bawls and goblin whistles…Clea's bow will now grow thistles!”

    ”Hoaxes and hexes, spite and ire…Lyana shall be breathing fire!”

    ”I summon a banshee, floating and fickle…beware its ghostly hand that tickle!”

    Upon uttering that particular one Jaina felt something poke at her side and almost folded over, for Jaina was, unfortunately, quite ticklish. Anya held her up by the hand while Jaina corrected the momentary wobble in her arcane current.

    ”It must have been the ghostly banshee.” Anya said with a blank expression. ”Clearly this ship is haunted.”

    Jaina cast her a stern glare. Or at least she tried to. She found it awfully hard to even pretend being cross with Anya and even harder not to melt a little before the tiny trace of a smile lurking in the corner of that delicate mouth. That particular adjective came more and more to Jaina's mind when she thought of Anya. The ranger was not uncommonly short or small for an elf, if anything Jaina would guess that Anya was of middle height, but it was something with all her features and, well, everything about her really that Jaina just wanted to wrap her arms around and hold close.

    She wondered if it was the way Anya had cried her name when she had disappeared. It was probably foolish, but it felt important that she had spontaneously used Jaina's first name, and the way she had cried it made Jaina feel a little bit guilty inside. Anya had sounded so distressed, afraid even. But why, exactly? That question tugged at Jaina's mind. Was it fear of the Forsaken's whole idea of keeping Jaina as their prisoner falling apart? That was possible of course, and it fit the ranger being Sylvanas’ trusted lieutenant, but it didn’t quite feel like Anya somehow. Had she been afraid of failing her assignment, and letting Sylvanas down on a more personal level? That seemed more like the Anya Eversong picture Jaina was painting. Or, maybe, had it been the thought of Jaina leaving them in itself that had terrified the elf?

    Jaina knew that was improbable, and a little presumptuous of her to think that. But not so improbable that it stopped her from squeezing Anya's hand a little harder.

    The rest of the day went by in what passed for the usual manner for an archmage driving forward a frigate crewed by undead. But when Jaina had to call it off the sun was still far too high for her taste. She slammed her fist at the reeling that she had gone to lean over, panting and slumping forward and disappointed in herself. She was an archmage, Tides damn it, not a fumbling second year student who lost her focus past two o’clock in the afternoon!

    The rangers kept a respectful distance and for once they were quiet, Jaina noticed. But Sylvanas approached to stand next to her, straight as a ramrod with her hand resting lightly on the reeling and undeterred by Jaina's foul mood.

    ”I once again owe you my thanks for single-handedly propelling my ship forward, Lady Proudmoore, a feat of magic unheard of. Yet I find you displeased with yourself.”

    Keep talking, Jaina thought. Sylvanas’ tone was neutral and even, but she still found herself relaxing into the wonderfully compelling voice.

    ”I guess I’m just disappointed in myself. I’m sure you would feel the same if you found yourself suddenly too tired to draw you bow, Lady Windrunner.

    Sylvanas was quiet for a time and seemed deep in thought.

    ”Let us take a seat, Lady Proudmoore, and please conjure some refreshments for yourself.”

    Jaina turned around and sat down against the reeling, with Sylvanas gracefully stretching her legs and leaning back next to her.

    ”Can I get you something, Lady Windrunner?” Jaina asked politely.

    ”No, thank you, Lady Proudmoore. I do not need to eat.”

    ”But can you?” Jaina asked curiously and conjured a couple of mana buns with a simple spell.

    ”There are ways I can…sustain myself and regain my health and on occasion my energy.”

    ”Like the ghouls?”

    ”Essentially yes, though with somewhat refined table manners.” Sylvanas smirked. ”But I do not enjoy food like the living do.”

    ”Can no Forsaken do that?”

    ”It is different for everyone.” Sylvanas pondered. ”I can taste and smell some things. Blood. Salt. Extremely sharp and repugnant smells. Little more.”

    ”Well, how fortunate that you aren’t completely tasteless at least, Lady Windrunner.” Jaina smiled, already feeling better from her mana bun and becoming intrigued by the subject.

    ”I may find myself developing a taste for you, my little mage…” Sylvanas husked in such a smouldering whisper that Jaina swallowed and almost dropped her remaining mana bun. The banshee queen flashed her a broad smile, where her tongue just happened to caress the tip of one of the pointy fang-like teeth at the corner of her upper jaw. ”Eat up, while I fetch something that may help you.”
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
    An Orcs Tale, a Third Age AAR - Completed.
    Reviewed by Alwyn in the Critics Quill
    My Dread Lady, a Warcraft Total War AAR - 27 chapters done.
    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
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  15. #75
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Good updates! It sounds like an important step that Jaine is allowed to use magic - so she's trusted up to a point, even though the crew are still wary of her magical abilities. I wonder what Sylvanas thinks will help Jaina.

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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    @Alwyn
    Remember what Clea brought aboard.
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
    An Orcs Tale, a Third Age AAR - Completed.
    Reviewed by Alwyn in the Critics Quill
    My Dread Lady, a Warcraft Total War AAR - 27 chapters done.
    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
    Reviewed by Boustrophedon in The Critics Quill

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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter X-V. Tides and Trust
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Sylvanas should rightfully be tense and nervous but found herself in inexplicably good spirits instead as she hurried down the ladders to one of several storage areas that remained unused by a crew that did not require food or water. Or almost did not, she corrected herself, which brought her to the object of her visit that awaited at its place underneath a spare sheet of sailcloth.

    Her mage’s staff. Sylvanas felt a small stream of…something…when she grasped it. For a moment she fantasized that the staff felt the scent of Proudmoore on her, as if it had been a horse or a dragonhawk.

    The look on Proudmoore's face had been so delightful that for a moment Sylvanas debated whether to shelf – quite literally – this idea for now and go back to fluster her mage some more. But they had to reach Lordaeron as soon as they could and Proudmoore was right in that she had been tiring sooner than yesterday.

    Back on the quarterdeck the sight of Sylvanas carrying her mage staff produced a look of near childish joy on her mage.

    ”You have it! How…”

    ”My rangers retrieved it from the docks as you were brought onboard.” Sylvanas said with the strictest tone she could muster at the moment. It was harder than it should be with Proudmoore looking at the staff like Vereesa had looked at her first bow. ”In light of the current circumstances I will return your staff to you in exchange for your word that you relinquish it again when the day is done and do not use it against us in any way.”

    ”I promise!” She was nearly bouncing on her toes.

    Sylvanas held out her staff and Proudmoore examined it closely and then clutched it tenderly to her cheek.

    ”I can see you two are quite close.” Sylvanas remarked dryly.

    The mage stuffed the last third of her mana bun in her mouth and rose eagerly.

    ”On deck, ye scabrous sea-dogs!” she yelled at the seven rangers who had been resting on one knee close to the wheel. She sounded quite like captain Bonecarver and Sylvanas assumed it had to be Kul Tiran accent. The accent was, she decided, an acquired taste.

    Proudmoore held her staff in her left hand and Sylvanas took up position on her right, arm in arm. This was her decision and consequently her responsibility to be close by if things went badly. She noticed that her mage felt hot, and her warmth was seeping into Sylvanas’ arm. It was…a strangely pleasant sensation.

    Proudmoore was looking up at her, questioningly. Sylvanas smiled inwardly at the act of deference in the middle of magely eagerness and inclined her head.

    The next moment Proudmoore was positively glowing. Her eyes shone with arcane energy and the crystal on her staff even more so. In the distance Sylvanas could hear a strange rushing sound, until she realised it was the water flowing under them, only much more powerful than before.

    ”Captain! What speed did we make earlier?” Proudmoore's voice rang out as if her magic amplified it. Gone were all traces of the awkward, blushing, girlish woman who had woken up and fallen asleep in Sylvanas’ hammock and giggled between the arms of her rangers. The woman now before her was an archmage to the bone.

    ”Five, maybe six knots I’d say.”

    ”Six knots? Get your log out, captain Bones!” Proudmoore tightened her grasp around her staff and Sylvanas could feel the ship tug, and pick up speed.

    ”You heard the lady.” Sylvanas smirked at her captain.

    One of the sailors hurried up to them with the log and associated sandglass.

    ”In ye go…” captain Bones muttered as the chip was thrown into the water. ”Four, five, six… Ten! Ten knots, Lady Proudmoore! Ye bloody marvel of an admiral!”

    A choir of cheers and whistles greeted the news and Sylvanas looked down to see the main deck filling with every remaining member of the crew, sailor and ranger alike looking up at her and her mage. And her rangers looked happier than she ever remembered seeing them since before they became dark rangers. Areiel was eyeing her meaningfully with a lopsided smirk and Anya with eyes wide with pride. Sylvanas knew she could likely expect an earful later about how good she had been to show such trust in her mage and whatever more.

    But Belore, this felt right. Sylvanas straightened her back. Kel’Thuzad and all the rest of Arthas’ senile old liches could crawl back into whatever stinking crypts they had sprung from. They had nothing on Proudmoore, she thought with contempt.

    Had she even contemplated fighting this? The ship would be turned to splinters before the count of ten. And her rangers…Sylvanas would be lucky to have half of them left if it came to that. She almost shuddered at the thought.

    But she hadn’t had to fight her mage. On the contrary, Sylvanas had to admit to herself that Proudmoore had proven herself trustworthy in every way, and more. And the mage was good to her rangers. She made Clea talk and Anya smile. She even put up with Velonara.

    ”Rangers!” Sylvanas called out to the six posted with half drawn bows next to Proudmoore. ”At ease!” she smiled at them. At that Proudmoore shifted slightly so their arms brushed against each other. Had it been intentional? She glanced at her discreetly.

    To Sylvanas’ surprise her mage was humming something.

    ”Ahoy, ahoy, sweet Daughter of the Sea
    Ahoy this child of mine
    The Admirals girl, his whole entire world,
    For as long as stars do shine”

    ”What song is that?” Sylvanas asked, curious.

    ”My father used to sing it to me when I was little.”

    ”Daughter of the Sea?”

    ”A nickname.”

    ”One well-earned it would seem.”

    Sylvanas was quiet for a moment.

    ”My sister used to…never mind. What I mean is…you have a pleasant singing voice, Lady Proudmoore.”

    ”Why, thanks Lady Windrunner.”

    ”Above average. For a human.”

    Proudmoore snorted at that.

    ”It is nice, isn’t it?” The whisper into her right ear was barely audible. Somehow Anya had managed to sneak up on her now. Sylvanas should be angry at herself, or frustrated at least, but for now she couldn’t bring herself to care. Because Anya was without peers at stealth and Anya was her best.

    ”What is nice?” Sylvanas whispered back from the corner of her mouth.

    ”Trusting Lady Proudmoore. It feels nice, doesn’t it?” Anya breathed into her ear as she ran her knuckles slowly along Sylvanas’ arm.

    Sylvanas looked out across Forsaken sailors and rangers alike, seeing awe, approval and maybe even tiny glimmers of hope. Her mage was at her one side and her ranger at the other.

    It did feel nice.
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
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  18. #78
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter XI-I. Magics and Misconceptions
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Of all the unusually frivolous thoughts that seemed to invade her mind lately this was undoubtedly the silliest. But walking slowly arm in arm with her mage down from the quarterdeck before the gathered crew still made Sylvanas think of some sort of wedding ceremony. Although such occasions did of course tend to involve two parties who were of similar race, opposite sex, alive and not exhausted to the point of needing the other one to actually stay upright.

    Exhausted or not it took a direct order from her to make Proudmoore let go of her staff and call it a day. It was not that she tried to resist or in any way violate Sylvanas’ conditions as such, if anything her mage was just loathe to give up and seemed almost close to pouting. Velonara had received the mage staff for safe keeping with the flourish of a fresh squire, but her reverence ended there. The ranger proceeded to point Proudmoore's staff in random directions and perform a wholehearted imitation of an archmage’s spellcasting.

    ”’Fwooom’! Slow!” Velonara pointed at midshipman Gray, who played along and pretended to move at half speed most convincingly.

    ”Polymorph!” Velonara pointed at Haley.

    ”Ba-a-a-ah!” their lookout bleated.

    Proudmoore sighed and leaned a little closer.

    ”To think that you all worry so much about me wielding that staff.” she mumbled.

    Sylvanas couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

    It was early in the evening still and Sylvanas lit a couple of lamps in the cabin while Proudmoore rested in her hammock, appearing tired but not yet sleepy. She had hung her jacket by the door and leaned back in her too large shirt and pants, yawning.

    She had gotten freckles.

    It was a completely irrelevant observation but it still stuck to Sylvanas’ mind. Elves hardly ever had such marks, and were overall in fact somewhat bland in their unbroken uniform smoothness that humans seemed to prize so much.

    Sylvanas returned to her reading material, or rather the notes of her mage in question that she pretended to busy herself with, but her eyes still wandered to Proudmoore from time to time. It was not just the freckles; she had changed over the week and a half since Sylvanas had brought her aboard. Her skin was not as pale and looked a good deal healthier, and she didn’t seem quite so thin and frail anymore. If Sylvanas didn’t know better she would say that being abducted like this appeared to have actually been good for her mage. At least the woman was in no immediate danger and would remain a very much alive hostage for them, and it couldn’t hurt for the Forsaken to appear magnanimous enough to treat their prisoners well, could it? So Sylvanas had every reason to be quite pleased with what she was seeing. So far she had managed to keep a highly dangerous enemy spellcaster in confinement without any major incidents and without her antagonizing the crew, on the contrary in fact.

    To tell the truth, Sylvanas caught herself forgetting more than once that Proudmoore was at the end of the day the head of an enemy nation and someone to be rightly feared by any Forsaken. Her non-ceasing vigil had gradually shifted from readiness to counter escape attempts towards watching over her mage to make sure that she had what she needed. Even the nights had turned out different than Sylvanas had planned. Leaving a lamp lighted was usually inadvisable at best because Proudmoore would keep herself awake studying Sylvanas until her yawns threatened to dislocate her jaw. So Sylvanas, or sometimes Anya, kept watch in the dark and listened to the creaking of the ship and her mage’s steady breaths. It was oddly calming, and Sylvanas found that she did not particularly mind the lost opportunity to work as she usually did during the dark hours. It was in all honesty not like she had much to go over anyway in the way of paperwork.

    There still remained the question of how she would deal with Proudmoore once they reached the Undercity. As much as the mage seemed to thrive, bloom even, at sea Sylvanas held no illusions that the sight of the ruined country and the decrepit state of the Forsaken, and many of them also far more bitter than her sailors, would not be utterly disturbing to her. Add to that the proximity to Alliance lands and the very concrete prospect of Forsaken doing battle against other humans, and who could tell if her mage would be as cooperative anymore?
    The issue was not unsolvable in the Undercity. The Lordaeron crown had warded some of its dungeons against spellcasters in the same way Quel’Thalas or other human nations of note had. In an ironic twist of fate those dungeons were currently some of the most intact areas of the city and also technically akin to the top floors of their subterranean capital. She could quarter Proudmoore there, it would hardly be more unhealthy than the damp catacombs and sewers where the Forsaken mostly dwelled. They could give her a proper bedroll and maybe some sort of brazier or makeshift fireplace to keep her warm.

    Next question was how to bring a presumably less than enthusiastic archmage from the ship into the city's deepest dungeons without ending up with a fireball in the face.

    Sylvanas resisted the urge to sigh. It all came down to the same damned conundrum as always. Proudmoore was too powerful to overpower without extreme risk and too important to let go. The option of assassinating the mage had of course crossed Sylvanas’ mind several times but the thought made her dead insides twist in disgust. She may already be a monster and a murderer until eternity thanks to Arthas but damn if she would voluntarily add to that bloody list. She had not torn the shredded remnants of her soul free from the Lich King only to remain a mindless tool of death on her own!

    So, with neither agreement nor force being reliable options Sylvanas would have to fall back on her original idea. She would have to break Proudmoore's will to such an extent that she would allow herself to be imprisoned and she would have to do it shortly after they had made landfall. It stood to reason that anyone with their wits about them, particularly such a curious and intelligent woman as her mage, would want to familiarize themselves somewhat with their new surroundings before making an escape attempt. And while Proudmoore was doing that it would be a good time to confront her with Arthas’ crimes and whatever connection between him and her that the recovered marriage contract implied. Guilt, even misplaced – especially misplaced such – was a powerful emotion and in the face of Lordaeron's devastation and the full extent of the Forsaken’s miseries even a seasoned ruler might just be shocked into feeling incriminated by even the vaguest affiliation with the treacherous prince responsible for it. And Proudmoore was anything but that.

    It was likely to be effective, when her mage was so impressionable and seemed so easily affected by her. It was the best solution for the safety of all involved.

    But the thought of having to hurt her mage did still not sit well with Sylvanas.

    ”A silver for your thoughts?” the very same mage asked, making Sylvanas aware that she had been frowning. ”Though I don’t actually have any coin on me of course, but perhaps a promise-to-pay note from the hostile nation of Theramoore’s treasury for your thoughts, Lady Windrunner?”

    ”Mages.” Sylvanas smirked, unable to help herself and secretly grateful for the reprieve.

    ”Still worried about my dastardly arcane powers? And here I was thinking the elves were the ones accustomed to magic and us humans the superstitious barbarians.”

    ”All a compliment to your powers, Lady Proudmoore.”

    Sylvanas shifted her chair and stretched out so she faced her mage. Proudmoore lay on her side with her head resting against her hand and looked decidedly unthreatening. Almost absent-mindedly she raised her other hand slightly and a small line of arcane blue-white light appeared between her thumb and forefinger, turning into a large and unnaturally perfect snowflake that seemed to glow faintly blue and glittered in the light from the lamp as it danced over Proudmoore's fingers.

    ”There. That’s all the blizzards you will get out of me for today.” her mage mused thoughtfully.

    She slowly raised her upturned palm before her and pursed her lips and blew softly. It was a strangely tender gesture, like the blowing of a kiss. The snowflake twinkled through the air and settled in Sylvanas’ palm.

    This was the sort of moment where Areiel would have tripped over herself to declaim how Sylvanas appeared to have suffered a brain-freeze.

    The banshee queen sat still like a statue. If she had been able to breathe she would have held her breath. She felt that it was absolutely imperative that she did not move her hand the slightest and in no way disturb or, Belore forbid, damage this precious, beautiful object.

    ”It…it is certainly a well-crafted blizzard, Lady Proudmoore…” Sylvanas’ words stumbled out of her mouth, stiff and unsteady.

    At that her mage tilted her head a little, and an odd little smile played at her lips.

    ”About that” Sylvanas cleared her throat ”if I may ask, what is it that a mage’s staff actually does? It is obviously of great use to you.”

    ”Each has its own enchantments for one thing or the other, but their main function is to help the caster focus the magical energy more easily. It essentially gives me more mana and lets me use it more effectively.”

    ”So you can last longer when channelling a spell like that?”

    ”I don’t think so, but my staff will let me get more out of the time I last. In most cases, a mage’s mana runs out long before anything else but when you have reached a certain level of magical ability” here the mage blushed slightly ”you can many times find the physical and mental exhaustion that comes form the casting to be the most limiting. Imagine a woodcutter with a new saw, for example. He might be able to finish seven logs during the day instead of five, but it is still a days work and just as tiring.”

    Ever the engaged teacher, her mage was. But Sylvanas frowned at another question that this explanation raised.

    ”The exhaustion from spell casting you describe, how does it affect you, Lady Proudmoore?”

    ”Oh, well, you’ve seen most of it I suppose. I eventually begin to fall over where I stand. Apart from that it is my usual charming personality quirks in the form of acute migraines, nausea, lethargy and a rather bad mood I have been told.” Proudmoore's eyes widened. ”Wait, is that why you ask? Is it something I’ve said to your dark rangers, Lady Windrunner?”

    Sylvanas had to stop herself forcefully from laughing. Was that what her mage worried about, of all things?

    ”Not at all, and you need not worry about my rangers’ state of mind, Lady Proudmoore. I assure you they are a hardened lot, and besides they do on the contrary appear quite taken with you. You have been very graceful towards them, and all other things aside I am in your debt for that.”

    ”I like them.” she blurted out. ”Even if they make fun of how I look. I don’t think it is ill-intentioned.”

    Sylvanas’ brow furrowed. The rangers’ directness and honesty was a valuable thing and it came together with a long list of odd behaviours that had transcended death, but she would not stand for them insulting a foreign dignitary in their custody and least of all Lady Proudmoore.

    ”Would you please elaborate, Lady Proudmoore? I do tolerate the rangers’ eccentricities to a certain extent but insults are in no way acceptable.”

    At her request Proudmoore looked embarrassed. Her eyes were downcast and showed off her extremely pleasant looking eyelashes as she explained hesitantly.

    ”It’s just that…you have noticed how they like to…pretend to…well…to be flirting with me. To make me embarrassed. I know they don’t mean anything by it - I know I’m not any lithe and graceful elf – and it’s no big deal… Please let them have their fun if it amuses them, Lady Windrunner.”

    What in Belores name…? Sylvanas sat silent, too perplexed to think of what to say. Did Proudmoore actually believe the rangers’ banter to be jabs at her human physique? And the wording may be casual but her dismay was written all over her face.

    Her mage was clearly uncomfortable with the subject as well as Sylvanas’ silence and made a plain attempt at changing the subject to something else.

    ”May I ask a thing about Forsaken elves, Lady Windrunner?”

    ”Naturally, though I do not guarantee an answer, Lady Proudmoore.”

    ”The elves in Theramoore suffer from deprivation of the magic of the Sunwell, which I understand was destroyed by the Scourge. No one is keen on talking about it but I understand that they grieve it deeply and being cut off from the Sunwell has affected them terribly. Are Forsaken elves affected in the same way?”

    ”That is an interesting question, Lady Proudmoore, but I think it is based on an incorrect assumption. We may retain a similar appearance but undeath has changed us to the point where we can no longer rightfully call ourselves elves. We have not lost the Sunwell so much as we have lost our ability to at all connect with it, along with the other things of the living.”

    That answer did not sit well with her mage.

    ”Lady Windrunner, that can simply not be true.” Proudmoore almost admonished her. ”You do all most certainly feel things and don’t you dare pretend to be indifferent to it all.” Her small outrage was almost adorable. ”The queen who choose to cross the sea blindly with a handful of guards and a single ship for the sake of her people – and we will have to talk about that in earnest – is not a queen who feels nothing for them. Besides, you said yourself that there are still things you can taste and you and the other rangers evidently sense touch. And you are very much capable of acts of kindness.” Her tone had shifted from indignant to sincere. ”So I will kindly have to ask you to present any substantial proof of your claims, Lady Windrunner, and until proven otherwise I shall regrettably have no choice but to regard you as elves.”

    Her mage sounded so very, very much like Anya. Was she wrong? Was Anya wrong?

    ”I fear that only an utter fool would dare to risk your wrath by disagreeing with you right now, Lady Proudmoore.” Sylvanas smiled and bowed her head in feigned deference.

    ”You mean the kind of woman who would entrust an archmage's staff to someone whose first instinct was to polymorph the next person? Perhaps I should be more concerned about whether there actually is a spark of arcane magic lingering in any of you.” Proudmoore's eyes glittered.

    ”I have no idea what you are referring to, Lady Proudmoore.” Sylvanas flashed a grin back.

    Later in the evening when Proudmoore had at last turned in, or more precisely turned over, Sylvanas sat and looked at her, with the lamp still lit but dimmed.

    Was her mage really so unsure of herself that she actually believed her rangers were mocking her looks with their constant teasing? How could someone with an intellect so apparent be so utterly mistaken?

    But that was not how things worked, Sylvanas knew that well enough. Humans could have some really strange ideas of elves – she guessed she should have to yield to her stern mage and think of herself as an elf still – and perhaps their own ideals of beauty were equally strange. Moreover, Proudmoore's confidence in herself did not always match her abilities from what Sylvanas could deduce. She remembered their conversation over her mage’s first meal onboard and how she had shied away and admitted to not eating enough. If Proudmoore really was working herself too hard and thinking herself insufficient Sylvanas knew perfectly well how easy it was to let self-depreciation spill over into all aspects of life.

    The truth of the matter, strictly objectively speaking of course, was that Proudmoore was a strikingly beautiful woman. She was spirited, generous and compassionate, astoundingly competent in what she did and unflinchingly honest. She had overcome her lingering fear of the undead in less than a day to treat the crew as persons instead of monsters, and Sylvanas already regretted how harsh she had been to her mage at the time. If things could have turned out differently, Sylvanas no longer doubted that Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Theramoore would have heard them out.

    And this was the woman Sylvanas planned to bully and break down once they made landfall. The mere thought of it sickened her.

    The banshee queen looked down into her still unmoved hand. Only water remained in her palm, the snowflake having melted from the warmth of the lamp.

    With a last glance at her sleeping, precious mage Sylvanas rose and walked out with quiet but heavy steps.
    Last edited by Maltacus; November 01, 2022 at 04:16 PM.
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
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    My Dread Lady, a Warcraft Total War AAR - 27 chapters done.
    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
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  19. #79
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter XI-II. Magics and Misconceptions
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Jaina did not know why she had woken up. She couldn’t hear anything specific that explained it, nor did she remember hearing anything that would have awakened her. It was almost pitch dark so it had ot be in the middle of the night still. She should probably try to roll over and go back to sleep but something just felt…off.

    Wait.

    There was nobody beside her.

    Jaina sat up, at once fully awake. No one was watching her, she could…she could…

    She could do what, really?

    She could – probably – leave Sylvanas and her rangers that she was growing more and more fond of every day, and Davey and Haley Bones, and midshipman Gray who turned out to like fast sailing ships just as much as herself and reminded her so much of both Derek and Tandred at once, and the rest of the crew that had made her feel so proud of herself yesterday.

    Out of the Tides-damned question.

    But Jaina was still curious if she could do it. And if it was possible she could always leave another note for Pained. The night elf was probably rather worried…oh…

    Correction: she absolutely had to leave a note for Pained!

    Jaina rolled out of her hammock and double-checked the door. She saw or heard nothing. Well, if this was some kind of hidden test of her loyalty so be it. She stretched out after the leylines across the ocean, across Kalimdor, and found her own tiny corner of the vastness that was Azeroth. Between her hands formed a small portal over the floor, just out of sight from the doorway.

    She had done it.

    Jaina hurriedly bent over and once again scribbled a hasty note on the other side of the sea, but this time without water dripping from her. There was no message from Pained apart from one of Jainas sailcloth bags standing on her desk. Knowing Pained, it no doubt held some immensely practical content that she would be very cross if Jaina did not bring with her.

    In much higher spirits Jaina conjured a small light in the air before her and sat down to go through what Pained had packed for her. She almost immediately started to laugh. The small bag held a couple of tunics – those would be divine – and a weeks worth of Jaina's underwear – Tides, that was embarrassing but she was thankful to her bodyguard even as she blushed from head to toe at the thought of Pained going through Jaina's drawers. Or Jaina's chest of clothes as it were, her room did not actually have any drawers. Wrapped safely inside the bundle of clothes was at last Jaina's toothbrush and a box of Kaldorei tea.

    Jaina promptly complemented her current attire and put the rest of the clothes back in the bag and stowed it away in a drawer under the ordinary bed to her side. After the rush of excitement she was starting to feel what time it was and creating a portal over such a distance was no picnic. After sneaking off to the privy down the aftmost gallery, for once without the discomfort of an undead ranger guard waiting outside, she decided to go and look for Sylvanas. It felt silly, but it was also very unlike her to leave Jaina unattended and by now she had gotten so used to the quiet presence of deep red eyes to her side that she found herself missing them.

    Up the stairs, Jaina was met with a blanket of wet fog. Not even her arcane light provided much illumination.

    ”Hello?” she called out.

    ”Hello? Lady Proudmoore?” It was Kitala.

    ”Yes. I couldn’t sleep. Ehm, where are you?”

    In answer Kitala's hand appeared from the mist to Jaina's right and rubbed at her arm.

    ”Here.”

    ”Is something the matter?” Jaina asked and shivered in the wet air. ”There’s always one of you keeping watch. Usually, or whatever you call it.” she yawned.

    ”Hm, you are right. That is odd.” Kitala frowned. ”I believe the Dark Lady is at the bow, we should go and ask her.”

    ”Ask me what, Kitala?” Sylvanas appeared in the mist before them. Jaina thought her eyes were somehow dimmer than usual, but it was hard to say for sure in the dark and the fog.

    ”Is everything alright, Lady Windrunner?” Jaina asked. ”I just woke up and nobody was around so I worried something had happened.” Now that she said it, it felt like she was overreacting. Maybe Sylvanas was just trusting her more, like yesterday when she had allowed Jaina access to her staff.

    ”Yes, I can understand that.” Sylvanas sounded so different, as if something weighed heavily on her. And of course a great deal of things did, and Jaina could only guess what it must be like to be responsible for such a mistreated people as the Forsaken, but Jaina had never heard her sound…resigned? Weary? ”There is no need for concern, Lady Proudmoore, we are fine. In fact, my captain expects us to have some wind tomorrow. He says he can feel it in his…bones.”

    ”Awful one.” Jaina snorted.

    ”In that we are doubtlessly in agreement.”

    Sylvanas tone was like a smile that did not reach the eyes. Jaina looked closer at her.

    ”Are you sure there’s nothing wrong, Lady Windrunner?”

    ”A great many things are wrong, Lady Proudmoore.” Sylvanas still sounded absent, like her thoughts were elsewhere.

    ”Do you…wish to talk to Areiel about it? Or Anya?” Jaina tried. She didn’t really know what to say but perhaps Sylvanas’ rangers would.

    At last Sylvanas looked up and seemed to focus on something else than what weighed on her.

    ”It’s just my impression, and I don’t mean to pry or anything, but you seem to trust them very much so I thought that maybe could help.” Jaina tried to explain without sounding too awkward. ”I mean, I could listen too of course but I guess with the whole enemy archmage thing I’m not exactly the first choice to share sensitive information with.” she shrugged.

    To Jaina's surprise Sylvanas laughed, but even that sounded wrong. A short and mirthless laugh. Ironic. Bitter.

    ”Far too kind.” Jaina heard Sylvanas whisper in Thalassian. ”Too kind for your own good.”

    She wondered if the words were intended for her but decided not to comment in case they were not.

    ”I…I guess I’ll go back to sleep then. Do you want to keep watch, so I don’t turn your crew into frogs during the night?”

    ”Yes, I will watch over you.” the banshee queen almost sighed.

    Jaina was yawning wide before they had reached the bottom of the stairs. She would probably fall asleep within minutes even if she racked her brain over what it might be that weighed so heavily on Sylvanas. On a whim, Jaina let her hand hang out a little over the edge of the hammock, as if she had let it rest there unconsciously.

    As she drifted off to sleep Jaina noticed something cold carefully placing her hand back onto her. Perhaps the wind captain Bones had predicted had started to blow, for it felt like the ship was rocking a bit, or at least Jainas hammock was.
    Last edited by Maltacus; November 02, 2022 at 02:00 PM.
    The Misadventures of Diabolical Amazons - Completed.
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    My Dread Lady, a Warcraft Total War AAR - 27 chapters done.
    Home to Midgard, a Third Age AAR about two dwarves, a spy and a diplomat - Completed (pictures remade up to chapter 19).
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  20. #80
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    Default Re: [Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

    Chapter XI-III. Magics and Misconceptions
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    The next day the wind had indeed returned just as captain Bones had predicted. Unfortunately the wind was easterly.

    ”Of all the worm-ridden Tides-damned keel-breaking miser’ble shark-buggering…” Davey Bones were blaspheming loud enough from the foremast to be heard all across the deck.

    ”…crab-brained mutineering barnacle-blistering bloody directions this bloody wind has to choose it has to bloody pick the bloody opposite of our bloody course!” a rising clear voice added from astern. For someone so disinclined to shout at people Lady Proudmoore knew an astounding amount of swear words. And now she did appear to be in a profoundly bad mood for a change, Anya noticed.

    ”Aye, couldn’t ’ave said it better meself!” the captain acknowledged Lady Proudmoore. ”Hope ye had a better night than us, my lady. Tangling with that mizzen in the dark gets no more fun when ye’re dead, I tell you.”

    ”We’re not getting to Lordaeron any time soon on the mizzen and foresails.”

    ”No, we’re not.” captain Bones sighed. ”Gray! Get over here for a minute!”

    Anya stayed within hearing distance as midshipman Gray approached. She liked listening to people talking and guessing what they would say next. And she liked watching Lady Proudmoore. As usual a few other rangers kept a close watch on her too without having been explicitely ordered to.

    ”Gray, we’re moving like a dismasted Stormwind carrack in this wind. Can you jury rig a spanker for us like on one o’ those brigs ye’ve been on?”

    Anya could hear a series of less than discreet giggles following that comment, and apparently so could the officers and Lady Proudmoore.

    ”What’s up with them?” Gray asked and nodded towards the amused rangers, and Velonara in particular which Anya didn’t find especially surprising.

    Lady Proudmoore rolled her eyes.

    ”They’re being landlubbers.” she said dismissively. ”Yes it is called a ’spanker sail’, just as hilarious as ’poop deck’! If you find it so funny I’m sure Areiel could flog you all if you asked her nicely!” she shouted at the rangers and shook her head.

    ”Yes, well, I guess I could, captain, but I don’t think it would do her much good. No good tacking if we put it up there.” Gray pointed. ”Maybe it would add some stability but we already have the fore-an-aft sails for that.”

    ”Dammit.” captain Bones muttered while Lady Proudmoore sighed.

    ”I guess it’s back to the quarterdeck for me today then.”

    ”Hmm, if ye’ve got anything like yesterday to give I won’t say no to it.” the captain mused. ”But, correct me if I’m wrong ’ere, this current of yours has been something you’ve had to adjust on the fly to keep the ship steady, right?”

    Lady Proudmoore nodded.

    ”An’ that’s been takin’ a lot of juice out of you, right?”

    Another nod.

    ”Well, we ’ave some wind today after all. Would it help if you let us handle the steering on our own an’ just focus on thrusting forward with all ye’ve got?” he asked.

    ”SHUT UP!” Davey Bones, Gray and Lady Proudmoore shouted the next moment in unison at Velonara.

    Anya smiled at that but followed Lady Proudmoore as she made her way astern. Something didn’t feel quite right.

    ”Good morning, Lady Proudmoore.” Anya revealed herself at a polite distance.

    ”Morning, Anya.” Lady Proudmoore answered with an unusual lack of enthusiasm.

    ”Is something the matter?” Anya tried to sound as neutral as she could.

    ”I didn’t see you back there but I will assume you heard everything, right?”

    ”I think so. Is that what’s bothering you, Lady Proudmoore, channelling the current spell?”

    ”’Current spell’…” Lady Proudmoore smirked and Anya realised she had unwittingly taken a step towards Areiel territory. ”In a manner of speaking. I guess I had just hoped we would actually be sailing for real today. I’m just more tired than I expected to be, probably slept badly or something.”

    ”You have been doing this for several days now and you allow yourself very little rest. Is it unreasonable to expect that you should tire more quickly now?”

    Lady Proudmoore sighed.

    ”No, no it is not. You are right. Prolonged casting does drain you, everyone knows that.”

    Anya went rigid.

    ”Wait a moment, Lady Proudmoore. Drain you? What does that mean?”

    The mage looked at her quizzically for a moment.

    ”Oh, sorry, just a poor figure of speech. What I mean is that it exhausts your body and mind to the point that it can take a long time of recovery before you are at your full potential again as a mage. Maybe a bit like straining your shoulder or something like that, nothing serious.”

    ”Don’t let Areiel hear you talk like that, Lady Proudmoore.” Anya commented with a smile. ”Or Lyana.” But she was not at all satisfied with that answer, for it felt far too much like what a certain Dark Lady would say when it concerned herself. And speaking of which, it was unusual and unexpected not to see the Dark Lady at the mage’s side and Anya decided that it was worth looking into.

    She found Sylvanas still in the cabin she and Lady Proudmoore shared, for lack of a better word.

    ”Dark Lady?”

    Sylvanas looked up.

    ”Lady Proudmoore considers it necessary to channel her magic today as well since the ship sails so badly against the wind.”

    ”I will not raise any argument if that’s what she thinks.”

    Sylvanas sounded distant and Anyas concern grew. When it came to matters concerning Lady Proudmoore, Sylvanas had so far been anything but that.

    ”I am concerned for her. She complains of prolonged exhaustion and describes it as a side-effect of channelling her magic for so long during the last days. May I suggest we let her make use of her staff the whole day today?”

    ”Agreed.”

    ”I believe this isn’t good for Lady Proudmoore. I think she will drive herself too hard if she isn’t already.”

    Sylvanas nodded slowly, as if the thought was not news to her.

    ”I think so too but for now the need to get home quickly takes precedence. But…keep an eye on her, please, Anya?”

    Sylvanas almost sounded pleading. Keep an eye on her yourself, Anya wanted to say. What had gotten into Sylvanas? The way she spoke almost sounded like she was about to leave the ship or something.

    ”Sylvanas?” Anya asked hesitantly, and continued when the use of her first name made Sylvanas nod. ”Have you two been arguing?”

    ”Arguing? Why would you ask that?”

    ”You both seem so down today, and you are hiding down here while Lady Proudmoore is up on deck cursing the wind and snapping at Velonara. Yesterday you both seemed so well. What is wrong?”

    ”I can’t speak for Lady Proudmoore but as for me…” Sylvanas shrugged. ”I…do not relish what will happen when we reach Lordaeron and the Undercity. Regarding her. What will she do when she’s no longer confined by the distance of the ocean? When nothing but deadly force can truly stop her from teleporting to Dalaran? I will have to find a way to keep her from turning on us or attempting to escape at the sight of our, admittedly, ghastly realm until she is safely under lock and key in the Undercity’s dungeons.”

    Anya wanted to kick something. She wanted to turn the wheel around and sail back to Kalimdor, to cruise the seas indefinitely for all she cared, for at least here they had found some small little corner of the world that was something else than grief and pain and death. But of course they could not do that because Sylvanas was the Dark Lady and Anya was her lieutenant and their sisters and all other Forsaken relied on them and Lady Proudmoore was for some right now incomprehensible reason the enemy and everything good and hopeful that practically !"#¤%&-ing radiated from that woman had to fade away.

    ”Anya? Anya, what’s wrong?”

    At least now there was something more than hollowness in Sylvanas’ voice. Always something, Anya thought bitterly.

    ”Must it really come to that? Throwing Lady Proudmoore into some hole without warmth or daylight?”

    As she spoke, Anya realised that the thought was plain disgusting to her now. Beyond criminal, sacrilegious perhaps. And Sylvanas did flinch at her words and harsh tone.

    ”I have no better option.” she said quietly. ”To keep us safe from her. And to keep her safe from us…”

    The silence between them was painful.

    ”The keeps dungeons are not necessarily worse that the rest of the rest of the Undercity. Or what if they wouldn’t have to be, at least?” Sylvanas finally said, slowly.

    Anya reckoned she probably looked at Sylvanas rather surly.

    ”Because I find it all the more reasonable that the comfort of a foreign head of state in our capital city should be of utmost priority. And since I unfortunately will have to be elsewhere for extended periods of time it would only be proper of me as queen of Lordaeron to put the safety and comfort of Lady Proudmoore in the hands of a ranger lieutenant without equal. Particularly one who I knew could be counted upon to conjure a hot bath out of gravel and rubble.”

    ”The wards of those dungeons are not disturbed by the presence of a doorway. So it stands to reason that a fireplace and chimney would not necessarily pose a problem either.” Anya suggested slowly.

    ”A sound theory that I will expect to be tested. If necessary, the rest of the structure apart from Lady Proudmoore's quarters is expendable. And in fact it need not have to be a permanent solution. There are shackles warded to prevent spellcasting as well and once we have acquired or crafted a pair we can move Lady Proudmoore to accommodations befitting her.”

    ”I bet she would be at home in the keeps library.” Now Anya was almost, almost smiling.

    ”Lieutenant Eversong, can I count on you to guard Lady Proudmoore's life and see to her every need once we reach Lordaeron?” Sylvanas asked with her most commanding voice.
    Anya straightened her back and answered with a perfect ranger salute.

    ”My personal ranger squadron is at your disposal.” Sylvanas was also almost smiling. ”I will rest easier, knowing you are with her. Now I just need to find a way to keep her from turning us to cinder as we present the idea to her.”

    ”I’m sure you will think of a way.” Anya leaned forward. ”You can be…quite persuasive, my Dark Lady.” she whispered as she softly kissed Sylvanas’ cheek.

    Sylvanas made no motion, but her eyes were fires again and Anya drank in every little detail of that welcome sight.

    ”Come, let’s go outside. Our mage needs her Dark Lady.”
    Last edited by Maltacus; November 04, 2022 at 01:55 AM.
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