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Post by Varian Wrynn on Feb 22, 2009 23:25:41 GMT -5
Varian stood amidst the various dignitaries and minor noble folk in simple silk breeches of dark midnight blue and an undercoat of equal dark material coupled with a plain gray breastplate. Upon his dark locks sat his crown in all its simple glory. At his waist rested his sword, no ceremonious one, but a true double edged blade. Sitting at a table, he watches the numerous elven folk walk about the hall sipping wine from crystal clear cups, and testing the various delicacies offered to them. They were the leading members and leaders of the Exiled Embassy; those elves that had escaped the destruction of the north and traveled south to Stormwind. However unlike the many other refugees these elves are far from barren or poor and lived in luxurious exile as they worked to retake their kingdom.
And it was that luxury that put off Varian. He understood it. He doubted he would have lived any differently if he had been in their situation. Yet the idea that the humans of the north, those who had fought no less valiantly or bravely then the High Elves in the defense of their land, lived in poverty and slums as he toasted High Elves galled him.
In fact it was that feeling that had led him to lead off this event for so many months. An authentic ball to show the Exiled Embassy that they were officially recognized as a political party by the crown ship of Stormwind.
But eventually his aversion had bordered on insulting so he had been forced to act. And so here he was. Surrounded by elves, waiting for his meeting with their Master Ambassadorial and staving off the necessary reality of having to make nice with their prominent members.
O bother.
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Post by fairemont on Feb 22, 2009 23:51:52 GMT -5
The invitation to the Exiled Ball had come a day late… as usual it seemed that people forgot about her, but she had acquired the letter from one of the servants after a bit of badgering and heated talked. It appeared to her that someone had tried to keep her away, why they would want to do that, she could not even imagine. Not like she would cause problems or anything. A smile had crept across her face at the thought of it. Oh yes… party time!
She had dressed nicely, for the formal occasion she found it only fitting that she wear her ancient heirloom, and thus had donned the impressive Kimono of Del’Mireth, of who she was named after. It fit her nicely, as it had fit every other girl under the effects of the Curse of the Phoenix. She had noticed that when she had first put on, it reformed itself to fit her perfectly. When she was about to leave, she had decided against wearing it, had stripped down and put on a plain black shirt, pants, belt, and boots, as well as a black overcoat, strapped on her sword and strode out of the room.
She had made her way to the gathering, late as usual. She found it best to be no less than fifteen minutes late to every formal meeting to avoid the hassle of entries. When she entered, she decided to do it without too much commotion and merely snuck in and then strode across the great hall. Upon the throne sat the man that was her destination, and before she got too close as to arouse suspicion, she stopped and bowed deeply, “I am Fane Del’Mireth Lokkur, the No’Shana. I am at your service”
She stood up, careful to avert her eyes from the king himself lest she start any trouble too early. She looked around at the gathered attendees and sneered at one she figured was worthy. The man puffed up like he had been poked in the gut and walked away. She smiled to herself. Ball of Exiles was it? More like Ball of Boring old men. Time to spice things up!
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Post by Varian Wrynn on Feb 23, 2009 0:14:39 GMT -5
Varian’s eyebrows rose as he stared at the bowing woman before him. Unlike the other elves that were nearly drowning beneath the weight of their jewelry and illustrious clothing, this woman wore simple black garments, and a sword.
“I am Fane Del’Mireth Lokkur, the No’Shana. I am at your service,” she said introducing herself. As she bowed she took a moment to sneer one of the dignitaries forcing Varian’s eyebrows to rise even higher. He gave a thin lipped smile at the man’s abrupt reaction to the slight.
Focusing on the woman he studied her more, his eyes turning toward the sword at her hip. Despite himself he couldn’t help but feel a smudge of approval. She wore the blade well; though wearing was different from using of course. He had heard of the Master Ambassadorial was a Swordmage of fair repute and he idly wondered if this woman might have been one of his renowned students. She certainly looked fit enough for the task though he saw no indication that she was a mage of any kind. Varian was no a mage himself he was familiar with many practitioners of the art and he knew they normally bore numerous bags for reagents and other materials as well as numerous enchanted items usually in the form of jewelry and the like. “Rise, Fane Del’Mireth Lokkur,” ordered Varian, “Welcome to Stormwind Keep.”
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Post by fairemont on Feb 23, 2009 16:02:39 GMT -5
In the presence of royalty, even that of humans, Fane felt small. Her family had been quite prominent, but with the fall of Quel'Thalas, it had also fallen and now she stood as a lowly member of the Exiled Embassy, attempting to claw her way to the top. Oh how she despised the pathetic politicians. When it came down to anything, they would sit, argue, sit and argue some more and never get anything done, especially in times of war, it would be something compeltely beside the point! Something like giving funds to people attempting to develop new house hold appliances. What was the point!?
As she straightened she took a quick glance around. Most of the people were strictly politicians, but a few bore the look of battle mages or warriors. Fane alone was probably the only one who could care less for politics. Idly her hand reached up to her chest and brushed against the Soul Pendant hidden beneath her clothing.
"Thank you, your highness. It is a pleasure to be here," she stated with a bit of a shaky voice.
She hated herself sometimes for how she was in public. On the battle field and the like, she could spew out various pep talks and battle cries that would inspire even some of the most cowardly of soldiers, but once you stuck her in a public position with any sort of consequences on her actions she lost complete control over her certainty and confidence. Like now, she stood there looking up at the kind, knowing she probably shouldn't, her hair likely the color of her fiery red locks when she called upon the Curse of the Phoenix.
She dropped her hand to her side and turned to walk away, taking one good side-long look at the king before wandering off towards the food tables where she would attempt to locate and any particularily tastey looking morsals to tide her over until she could get a true meal. Situations such as this always worked up a huge appetite in her. She surpressed a nervous smile as her stomach growled at her. How embarassing!
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Post by Varian Wrynn on Feb 23, 2009 17:17:53 GMT -5
Varian eyes continued to follow the woman and she floated away. The look in her eyes when she stared at him. There was something special there though the king wasn’t sure exactly what. He continued to stare as she walked over to the offered food tables but came back to himself as his royal advisor gave a polite and subtle cough.
Another elf was waiting for him to welcome her and this one was decorated with enough endowment to compensate up for Fane Del’Mireth Lokkur's lack of.
He allowed himself an internal chuckle and offered a small thanks to the Light that he hadn’t mispronounced the previous woman's name. Twice now he had done so, to the detriment of the concerning elves, though he did believe he was getting better at it.
Clapping his hands together and wringing them together energetically he gave an apologetic nod and began to welcome the elf. That was until he realized he hadn’t caught her name or title.
His advisor seeing the look of cluelessness on the kings face quickly muttered her name under her breath thus saving her king from further embarrassment.
“Yes, many welcomes good Athrana Solsun,” he quickly intoned, “Rise now and be welcomed to Stormwind Keep.”
The woman curtsied once in response, murmuring thanks even as her eyes raking across Varian disapprovingly, before flouncing off to join the other guests.
Another elf quickly moved to replace the woman and Varian bit back a sigh as he tried to not slouch back in his throne. Did he really have to do this at every occasion? He was king after all. His word was law. Couldn’t he just issue some ban against this whole bloody business.
“Rise Zenamor Dulkator and be welcome to Stormwind Keep....”
This continued on for some time as the kings internal grievances grew increasingly feverous and violent and the procession of respectability slow grew smaller and smaller. Finally he looked up and realized there were none left for him to greet.
“You’ve survived sire,” noted his advisor.
Varian gave a numb nod in reply and smothered his face in his hands. After a moment he picked himself off his throne and slipped over to one of the open tables to grab a drink. He would have little time to recuperate before he would be forced to once again dive into the mess of nobles and politicians and finally get down to business with his meeting with the Master Ambassadorial.
As he poured himself a glass Varian noticed the raven haired swordsman beside him. It was the same woman had so attracted him before. Well his advisor had demanded he mingle amongst his guests.
“Hello there,” he murmured, “Enjoying yourself so far?”
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Post by fairemont on Feb 23, 2009 21:12:41 GMT -5
Food, food food! So much food! What to take? Oh, some of these, some of those, and definitely whatever that was! Wasting no time to examine what it was she really was eating, Fane stuffed her face and enjoyed it. It was one of her favorite pass times, and because she never had to worry about getting fat, she could do it as much as she pleased. Like now for instance, as she shoved a giant slice of cake down her throat.
"Hello there," someone stated, the voice was oddly familiar. "Enjoying yourself so far?"
It took her half a moment before she realized who it was but when she did she nearly choked on the cake and turned to him, wiping frosting and cake crumbs off her face with her sleeve. She attempted to laugh but made a hoarse coughing sound as she tried to clear the newly introduced blockage from her lungs.
"Oh... um," she paused for a fit of coughing. "Yeah, it's been fun. The food is excellent."
She hastily set down the plate she had been holding full of food that put most of the other food trays to shame, acting like she had merely been sampling it, not harboring thoughts of devouring every last morsel present. She knew she was blushing again. How did he manage to appear right there, right when she was most vulnerable? It didn't matter, she berated herself and decided to pick up some "healthy" food and eat it delicately.
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Post by Varian Wrynn on Feb 24, 2009 0:41:54 GMT -5
Varian barely managed to hold back a smirk as the woman jumped and choked on her food. The elf, despite her slim build, and size had been absolutely gorging herself upon the offered food and she nearly choked to death as she started in surprise.
She uttered what might have been a laugh but came out more like a gurgle and this time Varian couldn’t help but offer a fully fledged smile. His smile continued as she struggled to fully digest her food. He could damn nearly see it as she swallowed the last of it with a delicate gulp of her throat.
"Oh... um," she paused for a fit of coughing. "Yeah, it's been fun. The food is excellent."
She paused and hastily set down the plate almost as if to suggest she hadn’t previously meant to utterly devour the plate’s content. A light haze of red came across her normally pale elven features showing that she knew well and truly how embarrassing the event was.
Still she offered no apology, deciding instead to pick up a much smaller plate of far less delicious food, looking as if she intended to taste from it. Varian noted the look of passive disdain pass her face and he chuckled to himself. He hated that stuff too.
“Good. I am sure our chefs will be delighted to hear that their meager offerings have been met with approval of the elves,” he murmured with just a touch of cynicism. Had those words come from another elf he might have suspected them but judging from the borderline panic look on her face he believed the words have been spoken from her true heart.
“I noticed you carry blade,” intoned Varian with his hand, “Is it ceremonial or do you practice the art of a swordsman?”
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Post by fairemont on Feb 24, 2009 8:43:17 GMT -5
She nodded at his response and when he indicated her sword, she looked down quickly, hardly aware that the blade was still there, "Oh! Yes, a little bit of both, your honor."
The sword had been part of her life so long now she never really noticed it. It was one of her few objects that tied her into her position in her family and despite what she really wanted, she couldn't get rid of it. The curse was with her, until the very end of her days. Oh well, she'd have to make the best of it.
"I've a long history working with it as well as Pyromancy. I'm a tempered blade specialist, and I take my profession quite seriously," she stated with a half-glare at the King. "Of course I may not be the best around, but I could give most of these fools a run for their money."
She doubted that more than one or two were actually armed in some way, and the rest likely couldn't even fight. At the first sign of trouble they would likely run for their lives, hoping for people like Fane to protect them as they reached safety. She sighed inwardly. Oh well, what can one do?
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Post by Varian Wrynn on Feb 24, 2009 16:39:49 GMT -5
Varian noted the look of surprise on her face when he mentioned her blade.
“Oh! Yes, a little bit of both, your honor,” she replied somewhat faintly. Her face tensed for a moment before relaxing again and she continued more confidently, “I've a long history working with it as well as Pyromancy. I'm a tempered blade specialist, and I take my profession quite seriously," she was almost glaring at him now, “"Of course I may not be the best around, but I could give most of these fools a run for their money."
There was true distain in her voice now as she made her obvious reference to the other guests in the room. Varian shifted slightly and thanked the Light for fact that they were still relatively secluded from the others in the hall. Most would have brushed her comment off but Varian could think of more than a few in this room who would have been bold or insulted enough to challenge her claim. Something, told Varian that this elf would not be one who was willing to back down if riled, and the last thing Varian needed on this night of all nights as a fight between an elf and one of his nobles.
“I’m sure you could,” murmured Varian smiling despite himself. The woman’s blunt demeanor was a welcome relief to what he normally had to endure. “Though I would add that I think you would be surprised by the number of “fools” here who could give you a run for your money. I’ve found that, unfortunately, foolishness is not nearly the adequate bar against great swordsmanship that it should be.”
“In any case,” he continued quickly, “You say you’re a pyromancer as well as well as a swordsman? Interesting. You didn’t happen to be taught by Narain Sunseer did you? I hear he is a fair teacher in the arts of combining the blade with the spell.”
Varian tensed just a fraction as these last words went out. He was fairly adept now at hiding his true intentions but he still struggled with it somewhat. Though, he was interested in hearing the woman’s story, his real objective lay in discovering more about this mysterious Master Ambassadorial. If the woman had been -or was- a student of Narain then perhaps should could offer him a quick insight into his character before Varian engaged the elf himself.
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Post by fairemont on Feb 24, 2009 20:07:16 GMT -5
"Eh...," Fane grunted as she chomped down on some odd looking piece of food, then nearly spit it out as she realized it tasted disgusting. What was with the cooks and making bad food? Although... it could have been a decorative piece... She wasn't certain, but she made note not to eat any more of them. "I don't know, most of the are strictly politicians."
She thought about Narain for a few moments. She had met the man once or twice, or at least seen him and been in his presence, though she did not know him personally. She knew him more or less by reputation, though Fane would give quite a bit for a few lessons from him. He could likely teach her a few things she didn't know that she could in turn pass onto her daughters. She again made another note to speak with him.
"No, I do not know him very well, though I would really like to learn from him a little bit. Most of my teaching was done by my family. We are an ancient line of pyromancers focusing in the tempered blade forms. It's sort of a curse to be honest. I was unlucky enough to be stuck with the part. Have you spoken with him yet, your honor?"
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Post by Narain Sunseer on Feb 24, 2009 23:09:25 GMT -5
Narain Sunseer stood just inside the entrance of the keep, wearing his customary and unsual black leather armor and a scowl on his face that emphasized the lines etched across his aging face. Resting his right hand on the black iron-cast tome hanging from his hip and his left on the handle of his sword Redwind, he stared around at all of those in attendance of the Exiled Ball. He was late not out of any desire to appear fashionable, but because he simply did not want to go. However, his new position carried such responsibilities as attending these functions. Taking another scan around the grand room, he took a deep breath and strolled out into the middle of the crowd, drawing quite a bit of disapproving glares from Elf and human alike due to his attire.
"I am just not cut out for this stuff," he mused; again wondering why his mentor choose him for his successor as Master Ambassadorial. A question that bothered him more and more as the days in this position increased.
Some good would come out of this ball, however, as he would finally be able to meet King Varian Wynn. From his reputation Wynn was a man that Narain could deal with on even ground and relate to. Looking around he caught a glimpse of a large man conversing with young elf woman in a black overcoat. Upon the man's dark head was a simple but elegant crown, leading him to the assumption that this was King Wynn. Taking another deep breath and making his best attempt at wiping the scowl off his face that always appeared when surrounded by so many people, he strode towards the man.
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Post by Varian Wrynn on Feb 25, 2009 0:14:08 GMT -5
"Eh...," grunted Fane in reply. She tasted a random piece of food and her face twisted in distaste. She continued after a moment, “No, I do not know him very well, though I would really like to learn from him a little bit. Most of my teaching was done by my family. We are an ancient line of pyromancers focusing in the tempered blade forms. It's sort of a curse to be honest. I was unlucky enough to be stuck with the part. Have you spoken with him yet, your honor?"
Drat, thought Varian to himself. Well, he supposed he shouldn’t feel too disappointed. It was obvious that this woman was a bit of a black sheep among the Exiled Embassy. There really hadn’t been a large chance to begin with that she would have been his student. Stifling the brief rush of disappointed, Varian answered her question, “Not as of yet. I was familiar with the former Master Ambassadorial, Teleris Flameweaver, but for most of his term of service the elven nation was still in its prime. What contact we had was mostly ceremonial, though he did seem like a good man, and I must profess that I-”
He stopped in mid sentence as an armored elf cl stepped inside the hall. His hair was white like silver snow and held in a loose pony tail. A sword was strapped to his waist and like Fane, he wore it quite well. His, scarred face was matched by his startling blue eyes and generic elven beauty, though it was apparent from the deeper lines on his face that he was no stranger to suffering or worry and that he had seen more than a few years in his lifetime.
Varian licked his suddenly dry lips, his eyes on the man. Things were about to get interesting.
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Post by Mathias Shaw on Feb 25, 2009 23:12:30 GMT -5
At first, Mathias had been afraid that the Elf had found him out. It couldn't have been though, for his disguise was flawless, and the man he was now bore almost no resemblance to the man he had been a mere two hours before. He looked like he'd put on twenty kilos, and spent a great deal of time indoors, neither of which he had actually done. So he was intently surprised by the Elf's offensive behaviors, his mind going into panic mode even as he struggled through the motions of an offended nobleman. He walked across the room, attempting to lose himself in the crowd, before circling around to get a better view of the elven female who was either intensely awkward in public or a rogue nearly as skilled as him. He masked his stride well, but one could never truly hide the swagger of a fighter, and the grace of a swordsman. As he watched, the woman more closely, he came to realize that it had been a fluke. At best, the woman was an adept swordsman, and perhaps some kind of mage, but she was no assassin. Still, he kept watch on her, keeping the King in the corner of his eye. He was unable to stop himself from raising an eyebrow when the king approached the elf after his official duties as 'host' were for most intents and purposes completed.
The King, enthralled by a woman? That hadn't happened since well... since Tiffin he supposed. And what a damn shame that had been. It was something else he had found out that he owed Edwin for. Along with so many other things. He shook his head, now was not the time for brooding. He had a king to protect. He watched as the king approached the swordswoman, ready to spring into action, constantly scanning the crowd.
If she tries anything, I'll crush her instep, and drive an elbow into her throat. Or perhaps he could solve it with a crack to the head.... No, he hadn't studied elven physiology enough to know the best way to figure that out.... Perhaps....
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Post by fairemont on Feb 26, 2009 17:00:39 GMT -5
Tossing down another chosen targeted morsel, Fane listened to the king talk about knowing the previous Master Ambassadorial, who Fane did not really know. She had met him once when she was younger, but her family had kept her cooped up for so long that she never had a chance to meet anyone. Once her mother had died and she become the No'Shana, then it was a whole different story, but still, she had never gotten over the awkwardness of meeting new people, and her formal etiquette was lacking much as well.
When the king stopped speaking suddenly as he looked passed her towards whatever was behind her, she had never really taken notice, she quickly set down the plate and looked around as if something big was happening, like a fight or an assassination. Gods only knew how easily someone could get stabbed or poisoned here. Fane was suddenly happy that she was not very important to the world outside of her family, but then she turned all the way around.
She instantly recognized the Master Ambassadorial from previous encounters, she did not know him, but she knew what he looked like, and she quickly side stepped the king and essentially hid behind him, but the hiding was short-lived when she noticed that this side of the royal persona was far more populated with food than the other had been. She took a quick bite of something that happened to be very delicious before peeking around the back of Varian. Maybe she could go unnoticed.
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Post by Elitha Sulrin on Feb 26, 2009 22:03:10 GMT -5
Perhaps the Ball seemed rather peaceful and relaxing to the average eye, but it seemed to be far from it shortly after it began. Especially for the Royal Advisor. Studying the clumps of nobles, servants, Elves and the like, she could see the differences among them and how they saw each other. Nobles speaking with the "other" elitists. It was far from a casual talk for the majority of them. Everyone had their own agenda. Not all of their goals were bad, but Elitha had to be cautious and ensure the King would not be hard-pressed tonight. She knew he never had a taste for nobility, but this had been put off for far too long.
Smoothing her silky, flaring skirt, she wondered how long this "ball" would last. Though the occasion called for being formally dressed and presentable, she envied her king's casual way of handling this assembly of Elves and Humans. She could never take this like any other day.
It seemed no one had taken to dressing anything below an expensive price and quality; they were wearing and doing their very best for being in the king's presence. Even the food was decorated. This was all true until a later arrival showed herself. An Elf, appearing in the midst of these folk with a sword belted on top of a plain overcoat. She had to be something if she was appearing here, though. Elitha eyed her suspiciously. Oh yes, the way the others eyed her just named her a familiar sight.
She listened carefully when the lady approached King Wrynn. She knew who she was talking to. Wrynn did not know who he was talking to. It seemed very normal for tonight, though. All of them were unfamiliar sights to his Majesty. Soon she disappeared in the crowd of people, and even sooner more were presenting themselves to the king. She wondered how her king would manage without her aid in those names, and whether he realized it or not. A hidden smile for later that night.
Soon after that process was over, the king found that Elf once again. She was quite a contrast to Elitha. Plainly dressed with a sword; Elitha had an elaborate dress with flaring skirts in a gold and red pattern. She was Elven, Elitha was human. She was probably twice or thrice her age. She might have Varian Wrynn's eye a bit more than any other person, though.
Except for the latest arrival. A man, who instantly caught Elitha's eyes. He was dressed out of place among here, aside from the other Elf who Varian was in the middle of talking with. She even saw a sword at his side. Soon she realized who this was. It must be the Master Ambassadorial. There was no one else she could name him as, since it seemed everyone else was already here. And she would have known if the Master Ambassadorial appeared already.
It appeared that the king knew who this was, too, since he stopped babbling with his favorite guest and stared silently in his direction. Coming closer to the king with a goblet in hand, she peered over the rim while taking a long drink.
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