Weapon of choice

A small series of story snippets, each one concerning a different character in Cal's circle

It was a good spear...

Cal smiled, stretching out her arms with a quiet yawn. Sometimes it was still hard to get used to eastern time, to have to sleep through the night. What a waste of starlight.

Slipping from the covers she padded out over to the embassy balcony. Peering across the red underground city of Ironforge. The thick lava flows roared quietly in the distance, a constant background noise that was soon forgotten by the locals with familiarity. But at this hour with the streets quiet and nearly deserted below, she found the foreign sounds almost comforting.

From the front of the building, below the balcony, hung a few Stormwind notices and flags. No breeze here to stir the Lion crests. Even at night the air felt humid and dry. Looking out Cal couldn't help but admire the vast rock ceiling curving across the horizon. Almost as fine a view as the night sky.. almost.

She ran a hand through her hair, over her face, feeling dishevelled from travel. Too many temporary homes lately, relying on the kindness and charity of others. Too many drinking sessions and hangovers. Too much brandy. I am glad, there are some things he cannot read in me...

Chuckling she looked back across the room, he was sleeping, the slow steady breath of one lost deep to dreams.

As the kettle boiled on the small stove, she shrugged on his new black shirt, feeling the fine fabric and pondering idly to herself about the colour. Am I... changing him inside as well as out? She had teased and joked about preferring darker colours, drawing him away from the white and gold he so loved. I hope that is as far as my influence will ever go...

Steaming mug of peacebloom tea in hand, Cal perched back on the edge of the balcony. Watching the city streets below. Marvelling at the occasional sounds of dwarven speech. It offended her ear like a sabre choking on a bone. Gruff and snarling. If there were to be talks with them soon though, then it was about time she learned a little of their tongue.

Picking up the spear he had forged, she twirled it through the air, watching the red light glint from the edge. He'd crafted something beautiful for her. Running a thumb over the hammer marks in the dark gleaming metal. It was a gift, and a joke, and a promise all forged into one.

She arced it through the air, slicing clumsily with broad heavy strokes. Gods, I can scarce manage a dagger, what am I going to do with this? She swung and twirled it around, dancing in the red firelight, impersonating some fierce sentinel before it slipped from her grasp to clang and skitter across the floor.

Glancing back into the room, she laughed to see him awake and grinning. Damn you... how long have you been watching?

It was a crooked staff...

The tide dragged over the stony beach like a slow breath, a rattling inhalation and exhalation sighing softly through the air. Azuremyst Isle felt like an eerie tranquil haven tonight. The shattered giant Draenic crystals tumbled across the horizon, picking up and refracting the moonlight into pools of vivid colour. A beautiful but cold landscape.

Anhagath's public lecture down in the Exodar hologram vaults had been long and informative, covering the means and methods for combating a vast range of demons. Beheading seemed a popular theme, but then... Cal pondered, what does that not work against?

She smirked, grateful to have not been one of the volunteers called up from the large crowd to demonstrate how she would fight. How would she have fought? As the lecture had worn on her mood had slowly eroded down thinking about it.

"Use the Light, use your blessings, use your weapons.. these demons will fight with shadow, trickery and flame, they'll try to dominate your mind."

She peered to her dark haired confidant as they sat lingering on the beach near the pier back to Darnassus, his heavy staff resting on the ground next to him. Gratitude welling up in her, at being able to talk with such honesty to someone right here and now. There is only so far you can get with private study, before you find yourself needing a teacher, a colleague to learn alongside. She had grown used to him and had welcomed their shared curiosity.

"tell me... What could I hope to achieve against such creatures?"

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully "Confuse them, cloud their vision, but in truth the best thing you could would be to just run... get out of there".

Cal hugged her knees, pondering her options. The litany of skills that Anhagath had warned of in the lecture had prickled her conscience uncomfortably. "They'll fight with shadow... they'll try to dominate your mind."

Tsssk...

Her sinking mood must have been writ large across her face as he reached over to take her hands in his reassuringly.

She snapped her attention back to him, "our lessons... I wish to go further"

"Oh?"

Questions seem to tumble out for some reason, personal, private, peering more than ever into the darkest corners of his experience. Wanting to compare herself with him. How far had he gone in his study? What exact level of mastery did he have of the skills they picked apart when alone? Persuasion, suggestion, motor control, stealing sight, the guiding and domination of another's mind, possession and illusion. Her ears pricked up at the last.

Illusion...

Just a couple of nights before they had discussed this topic. He had clouded her sight, her bright eyes rolling back black, to make her see a knife attack where in reality nothing had happened at all. It was just a practical demonstration. All the senses had been engaged though in this false scene, the blood real in her mind, her heart had still raced and lurched in her chest. A shiver kicked up her spine as she remembered it, the knife point still clear in her mind. In truth she welcomed the lesson, how else could you learn to cast and defend against such things? It was just another arrow, another weapon for her to master... in time.

She looked slowly back down to their hands still cradled together, her thoughts tilting precariously. This could be a dangerous friendship.. in more ways than one.

Cal, get yourself back to Stormwind...

It was just a shot glass...

Cal twirled the drink between her fingers, glancing seriously across the table to the dark haired Kaldorei.

"Are you prepared?"

He grinned back nodding, glass in his own fist, a look of nervous anticipation on his broad features.

"Best to down it in one, the first taste will be... harsh" she chuckled... tilting her shot glass around, savouring the eye-watering aroma.

Raiding his brothers drinks cupboard, they had uncovered a true treasure. A dusty old bottle of Stranglethorn gold label brandy. Zulion must have left it behind when he moved out from here long ago. To Cal's delight her friend was willing to crack it open. No celebration or commiseration in mind. Just the simple act of sharing a drink together as friends.

They knocked the glasses back and his quarters filled with the sounds of choking, hissing and experimental swearing.

She grinned looking over to him. Brother... apprentice... friend... He'd been through so much undeserved heartache lately that it was a relief to see him giggling and coughing in the aftermath of the divinely foul liquor..

Cal reached forward, topping up her own glass, hovering the bottle over his with an arched brow.

"Another?"

He wiped a tear from his eye and grinned, nodding her on.

Raising their glasses in salute, they hesitated smirking, before swiftly tilting the glasses back again.

"ghnnnn-kaff-bleughhhhhh-blargh-ugh" Cal grimaced contorting her features in disgust. It was like being hit on the side of the head with a surprise wet bearclaw... but the aftertaste... and the warm bloom of heat to the throat, that tingled pins and needles down deliciously through the body, was utterly worth it.

She coughed... the more you drank, the smoother this liquid torment became. It wasn't until the fifth round did they really slow their pace to start to appreciate the depth of flavours it offered.

They both agreed on one mission, they -had- to get more of this stuff.

As they chatted, joked and gossiped, she looked around the chamber, it still held many decorations from his brothers tenancy. But hung on the wall, over to the side, was a simple crown of antlers. Still strewn with dried white flowers. His prize and his pride from the dance of the White Stag.  

She chuckled a little drunkenly, pouring out the eighth shot... that's where the friendship had started really. Lessons in how to dance, getting this ungainly warrior to unwind and move with a little more grace around the floor. Twisting and forging his battle stances together into a fluid and confident series of steps.

...and how proud had she been when he'd actually won hm?

Pouring out the eleventh shot she missed her glass, and for the briefest moment she was tempted to slurp straight from the table top.. Thish stuff... issh too good to waste hmm? ...hic!

He pointed and laughed at her turmoil, sipping his shot and leaning back smugly. If anything had been to hand that wasn't either the nearly empty bottle of preciouss amber gold, or the shot glasses.. she'd have thrown it at his head.

Mocking like a damned older brother...

Still though, when he wasn't being a smug oaf, she smirked eyeing him over as he swayed on his bench, he was quite the generous and patient soul. Thinking back, Cal couldn't even remember a time where she had witnessed him in a genuine fury. I wonder if it's in there, held back deep down.. it must be?... It'd probably be a terrifying sight when he eventually snaps.

He didn't seem to have the heart to turn strays away from his door either, so Cal and Soriah had taken to visiting him more and more often. Maybe they all needed the company in their own way. She certainly appreciated his hospitality and worried at what point she'd eventually outstay her welcome. He made it so easy to call his place her home, to think of his door as always open. and him and Soriah were becoming a kind of unexpected adopted family.

..family

She grinned, sinking her head into her arms on the table in a warm contented haze. Hearing a soft thump as he fell swearing back onto the floor laughing to himself. As sleep closed in upon her, their conversation and laughter still ringing in her head, she smiled. Everyone needs family right? Even if you don't share a bloodline or a name. It felt good to call a kaldorei brother.. and for once truly mean the word.

((What is it like, to own a stone mount? Here's one perspective ))


It -was- a beautiful mount...

The onyx sabre strode slowly through the bright evening streets of Darnassus. Soon these terraces would come alive with trade and chatter as the sun dipped towards the horizon. But for now, luckily, the roads were fairly empty.

The black stone skin reflected the dappled sunlight. Patches of pale gold sliding over the intricately carved muscles, flaring up when caught within the precious stones embedded into the dark skin. With a ponderous grinding step the ancient creature plodded on, what need did it have to rush? It had the patience of a statue, the endurance of a mountain, the manoeuvrability of a loaded cart stuck in mud. Cal grimaced, shifting position, thinking the saddle could use just a little more padding.

Balah she had named it, the Darnassian word for Pearl, a nickname with a personal history. What a gift... what a treasure... what an utter folly for Mael to risk his life in some unspeakable desert to secure this creature for her.

Who'd have thought it would be a human that would make her return fleetingly to the temple of Elune? Sending her to her knees to pray discreetly for his safe return, a foolish thing to have done, she chided herself for faltering, But it -had- brought comfort at the time.

"What do you think.. of the idea of living together?" he had asked, once at last returned from the voyage, casting her a sidelong glance...

Clinging onto Balah's back, Cal twisted and turned, assessing each building critically before scratching some off her map and thoughtfully circling others. It doesn't need to be a large place, something modest would do.

The streets drifted past in the pre-dusk hush. The soft thunking step of the stone paws against the pathway echoing back from the buildings on each side. It felt strange to be riding a creature that neither breathed nor bled. One that turned to stare with infinite patience at the world around it, as if bewildered by the soft squishy beings and the lack of the searing heat and sands of home.

"Do you miss your home Balah?" Cal pondered, scratching Seiya's house idly from the map.

She reached down to lay a hand on the warm stone skin, the creatures mind a mystery, and it would always remain so. Mael had sought her out as a gift, specifically for that purpose. A companion that could endure time and resist magic. Balah was unreadable, untaintable... and so far damn near unsteerable.

Cal smirked as she heaved on the reins, leaning nearly ninety degrees back from the saddle to affect a small change in their direction.

"There has -got- to be... an easier way... for me to work with you" Cal gasped, gritting her teeth, dragging the beast around to navigate the sloping path. She was beginning to question whether training Balah was secretly some kind of bloody test of her volatile patience.

A pair of Sentinels prowled past down the street, their graceful mist-sabres peering at the onyx cat warily, growling under their breath with unease as the black creature lifted its chin, turning to regard them with eerie stillness. A steady unnerving gaze, bright eyes that could peer unblinking for hours. Beautiful Balah, have you forgotten how real sabres look? How they behave?

Cal grimaced embarrassed to be seen steering flat on her back. She flapped her map in vague greeting to the patrol as she rumbled past them, unable to stop her mount once it had decided on a direction. The Sentinels exchanged a dark look, an arched brow, kicking their mist-sabres to a loping trot to continue away on their round.

She glanced up, scratching Ithili and Elanesse's chambers from the map. Turning her gaze past the Enchanters lair, across the bridge to Zulath's home.

Frowning, she leant forward as the building hoved into view, passing them by slowly on the left. Her hand drifted to the dark metal key hanging from her belt. Remembering how Zul had smiled, bruised and battered even as he was after the Naga encounter, over to the small ribboned box on his side table. Within it nestled this key, a promise, a symbol of welcome to his 'sister'.

Twisting in the saddle, she kept her eyes on Zulath's door as Balah ground along her slow path through the City. A pang of something like grief, of regret, if she did leave, she'd damn well miss that oaf.