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#8006241 Jun 18, 2013 at 07:50 PM
Lieutenant
54 Posts
There it was again... the swelling pressure and then, the kick: the stirring of her unborn child, just under her heart. Feyawen rested a hand on the swell of her belly, smiling gently to herself. The afternoon breeze stirred the silken drapes that hung from the great white pillars of the orchard-bedroom where she spent her lazy days now.

In the mornings, she would walk with her youngest sister, Anwen– so beautiful, at the start of her second century now, and her studies in the temple were going so well. She was as intelligent as their mother, and as dedicated as their father. She would go far, Feyawen knew.

At noon, she would retire to the great terrace overlooking the lake and spend long hours with Enora’s twins. They were not even half a decade yet, but already so curious. She was teaching them both to read: dark serious Aythyos with his black hair, and his sweet sister Falerya, always able to make her brother laugh. Both of them competing to be the better, though Feyawen knew her sister Enora loved them equally and laughed with pleasure as the light of understanding grew in their eyes day by day.

That was perhaps the greatest pleasure for her, she thought, seeing the world open up before their eyes. She couldn’t wait for her child to be born.

Her beloved husband Berox would be back come sunset, returning from the forge he tended, returning to pander her, bringing with him sweet fruit and the delicacies he knew Feyawen so adored.

For now, however, she was alone with her child growing inside her, but already so anxious to meet the world...

Feyawen leant back against the soft cushions and turned her face to the setting sun, a hand returning to the subtle yet smooth curve of her belly.

With a tiny smile, she closed her eyes savoring the last warmth, and the scent of the great orchards and gardens of the Court of Queen Azshara.

Her world was perfect...

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#8021451 Jun 21, 2013 at 10:00 PM
Lieutenant
54 Posts
The sun had slipped below the horizon, and the first full, pregnant, moon was cresting the mountaintops. Feyawen stood, a lantern in hand, watching the boulevard that led in from the orchards. Then, with a flutter she saw him, recognizing him from the way he moved, even in the gathering dark: her Berox.

From within the terraced house she could hear Aythyos and Falerya chattering, as they prepared. She smiled to herself, the celebration of Moonrise was still a great novelty for them. Although to be honest, it was a novelty for her too... this would be the first time Anwen would lead their ceremony, and say the ancient words of praise. Her youthful sister, the priestess...

She walked down the steps to meet Berox half-way... her robes floating about her in the slight wind, though her child was close, her elegance and grace belied her great age.

Berox was tall, his silky black hair catching the light, his eyes glowing as he saw Feyawen. He was as handsome as he was young – not much younger than Feyawen, in fact, but a good man who would undoubtedly be a fine father. "I missed you, my moonlight" she whispered, slipping into his arms, embracing him gently, kissing him, reassuring herself that he was real.

And then the bells began to sound, the great warning bells that had not rung out of the Queen's City since the fall of the barbaric Two Empires...

Feyawen´s blood turned to ice even as Berox hugged her tightly and spoke, his voice determined, "Go inside, comfort the children, my love. I will find out what is going on."

She nodded, swallowing, sick anxiety gathering in her throat, "Be careful..." she managed to say.

Berox kissed her a last time, turned and moved quickly down the boulevard in the gathering dusk. Feyawen watched him until he was lost in the gloom, before hurrying up the stairs to her sister’s children and their terraced home, suddenly so flimsy and insubstantial in the dark...

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#8078142 Jul 02, 2013 at 08:32 PM
Lieutenant
54 Posts
Berox had been gone for far too long. Feyawen sat, putting on the bravest face she could, holding Anwen and Falerya and Aythyos, holding their faces close to her, trying to keep them from hearing the staccato cracks and blasts that had begun to ring out over the city. Something monstrous was happening, and Berox had been gone for far too long.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the tempest ended... replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence weighing down over the city. She knew she should stay with Anwen and the children, but it seemed to be over, and Berox had been gone for far too long. The thought rolled over and over in her mind, sick terror blotting out rational thought.

And then she heard his voice... outside the lodge, out in the oppressive darkness.

"Feeeyyyyyy... Feeeyyyyy... come to me... Feeeeeyy"

Anwen looked up, looked over to Feyawen, her mouth half open, already rising to run to Berox. Feyawen grabbed her arm, pulling her back, "That is not Berox" she hissed. But even as she spoke the voice came again, "Feeeyyyy... Annnweennn".

"That is not Berox" Feyawen shook her head slowly. She stood, moving quickly across the room. Anwen stood too but Feyawen gestured her back with a quick motion of her hand, "Stay here, Anwen. Stay with your niece and nephew."

Feyawen took a single measured breath as her fingers touched the smooth curve of her bow - she did not know what was out in the darkness, but she knew it must be led away, or killed. Berox was not coming back now, somehow she realized that. And now she had to make sure that whatever was out in the fog whispering to her would never get to her family. A sick pulse of anxiety rolled through her body, gathering in her belly, making her rock on her feet for an instant, before she could force her vision to clear once more, and step out of the house and into the night.

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#8117960 Jul 10, 2013 at 09:44 PM
Lieutenant
54 Posts
A creeping fog had begun to gather, slicking about the city, turning the familiar into the nightmarish. Feyawen closed her eyes for a moment to clear them, and looked out into the gloom. Strange lights cast roiling shadows, as if great fires were burning... but burning with a ghastly greenish light. The air was heavy, muffling sound, but the voice was clear, "Feeyyyy" somewhere just out of sight in the fog.
"Berox... where are you?" she murmured, slipping an arrow from her quiver and silently notching it.

"Here... Feeeyyy... out here..." came the reply, echoing strangely.

"Where have you been, Berox? We were worried." Closing her eyes, Feyawen listened for the reply, drawing herself up, feeling the cold grass beneath her feet, and the flow of tension in the bow as she drew it.

And then the demon stepped out of the sickly fog, its armored hide glistening in the light of the burning city. Taller than a Kaldorei, and heavyset, its over-long arms ending in gory talons. It opened its mouth, a forked tongue lolling out over its teeth. "Come to meee... Feeeyyyy" it lisped.

Feyawen let it fly. The shaft flew true.

And with heart stopping speed, the demon snatched the arrow from the air and snapped it...

And then it smiled, licking its gruesome teeth...
It was close. Too close in fact. She knew that before she could notch another shaft and let it fly, the demon would be on her. The heavy dagger at her belt would be all but useless.

Its long tongue roiled in and out of its maw. Fingers of clammy heavy fog drifted between them, lit by the fires of the burning city.

Her unborn child stirred again - she breathed out slowly, letting the bow drop from her fingers, her hand darting to the long-bladed silver steel dagger at her hip.

The demon leapt at her, its maw gaping open to sink its bladelike fangs into her flesh.

A sudden flash of silver cut through the fog, and the song of arrows followed. With the shattering-crack of paving stones smashing under its weight, the demon crashed to the ground barely a pace from her feet, a half-dozen black and silver-fletched arrows protruding from its back.

The silver-clad figures emerged from the fog; the noisome vapors slinking away from their armor, their bows held at the ready, lithe bodies and narrowed eyes scanning the fog. Their leader, triple-bladed glaive held ready, bowed shortly from the waist, "Shan’are Lady Nightfury" she said, "We came as swiftly as we could."

Feyawen nodded, taking up her bow. "What of the Court?"

"The Queen has ordered the High City sealed, and the gates barred against entrance... or exit. All of our attempts to enter have been turned back with violence."

Feyawen narrowed her eyes. "And the Guard?"

"We have gathered as many as we can find. Priestess Tyrande and Shan'do Stormrage are gathering forces, and we have joined their entourage. Word has been sent to the Aspects, and they have sworn to aid us. But we must move, before the outer districts are completely lost."

Feyawen looked up through the fog to the faint light of her terrace-home, acid fear rose in her throat, and her child kicked again...

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