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Literature Text
Llorrin stared at the half-empty bottle of rum in his hand. He had to remind himself he was sitting in the sand and not the swaying deck of a ship, as the bottle constantly seemed to enlarge before his eyes before shrinking back again to its normal size. The chanting of the men around him seemed distant for more than one reason. How could he sit here, pretending he was having fun, when Daelin might very well be dead? He looked over the merry faces of the other marines gathered around the campfire. They had no idea what was going on in his mind. Many of the men had come to congratulate him and ask him to recite the tale of his fight against the warlock, a tale that became shorter and shorter every time he was forced to repeat it. His wounds still stung, and every time he had to explain how he got them the pain flared up again in his body as well as his mind.
Everyone wanted to see the orb he had gained from the fight, as well. The recognition he was getting was something Llorrin had vied for all his life, but it couldn't replace the hollow feeling he had inside, the guilty sensation that told him he was nothing more than a liar. Orders had been strict. As soon as Carekon and Irewyth had delivered their report, the rest of the party had been ordered not to breathe a word about Daelin being dead to anyone. Captain Adane considered it good luck that the men had been wise enough to keep their mouths shut about the matter even before he’d told them to. Llorrin sighed. While he understood they couldn't afford morale to drop based on a rumour, it still felt wrong to keep the truth from the others. Daelin had been his admiral as well as theirs and the men were probably looking forward to rejoining him as much as Llorrin was, or rather, had been. The most difficult moment had come when a marine had congratulated him, telling him Daelin would have been proud of his achievements today. Llorrin was certain he’d never figure out how he'd managed smile at the comment while he was dying inside.
I deserve to be shot... or fed to the Silithids, he thought bitterly.
His eyes strayed up at the sky, finding the moon. The temperature had dropped severely during the night and the sea breeze now had a chilly edge to it, but that was the least of his concerns. He stared back into the fire. Burning Masters... he thought, wondering what abominations the warlock could have been referring to. Could the old orc's masters have somehow been connected to the unnatural storm that had scattered their fleet? No, that seemed like too much of a stretch. Still, he had the feeling they'd only witnessed the tip of the iceberg.
Llorrin didn't look forward much to spending the night on this beach. After having witnessed the Silithids and the Sandfury trolls during daytime, Llorrin wondered what horrors the night would bring in this desolate country. Was this unholy creature-ridden place truly worth the presence of the Kul Tiras navy? They should have been at this 'city of Theramore' the warlock had mentioned, to stand by their admiral's side and die protecting him if they had to, not rot away here and be doomed to not leave even the faintest mark on history.
Maybe it's not true, the young marine tried to tell himself yet again, his sense of logic immediately kicking in to crush his hopes.
He took another swig of rum to ignore the pain. The inside of his head started to feel even more warm and fuzzy and he quickly felt unable to worry about anything. Wheann was right Llorrin thought as the rum set his throat on fire. The alcohol did dull the pain - both kinds - somewhat, but he knew his injuries and worries would still be there even long after he'd become sober again. Llorrin's fingers grazed the soft bandages that had been applied around his stomach. The skin below was itchy and the cloth had already become moist. He wished he could already have the bandages changed. Llorrin felt a hand on his shoulder and wondered what it was going to be, showing off the orb or telling the story of his fight with the warlock. He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see it was Chuth. His muscles tensed up, preparing for another fight, but then he realized Chuth hadn't come to brawl. There was a mix of admiration and fear in the gruff man's eyes, a look Llorrin had never witnessed before.
"Cap'n Adane wants ta see ya. He's waitin' for ya in his cabin," Chuth announced, his voice trembling ever so slightly. That caught Llorrin with his pants down. It was the last thing he'd expected, and he wasn't in a state to go see the captain at all. Surely Carekon and Irewyth's reports should have provided him with enough information, unless...
"Now?" he asked, speaking with a thick tongue. He was surprised Chuth didn't grin at his predicament.
"Now," the sniper said, nodding.
As Llorrin pushed himself up he absently handed the bottle to Wheann, who had made the worst drinking partner ever. A few sips of rum and the half-elf had been as drunk as ten men, unable to speak intelligibly. It was a surprise he was still awake and drinking even more. Llorrin had just walked past Chuth when he felt the sniper's hand on his shoulder once again. Llorrin turned, wondering what was eating the guy. Chuth still had that strange look in his eyes and didn't speak his mind. They stared at each other for a couple of awkward moments until Chuth finally broke the silence.
"Listen' greeny, ya know I don't like ya, but I gotta admit, ye saved our skins out there."
Llorrin was knocked for six. Gratitude? Praise? From Chuth? Impossible. He wished he still had the bottle so he could check how much of that rum he had actually had. If he hadn't known better he would've thought Chuth was far more drunk than he was, but even in this state he knew that couldn't be. If there was one thing Llorrin would admit Chuth was better at than he was, it would be holding his liquor.
"We all do what we can," Llorrin replied with a lazy grin, too baffled and drunk to come up with a better return. He turned away quickly. Llorrin had more pressing concerns than Chuth's strange behaviour, like figuring out how he was going to sober up in the short time he had to make it to Captain Adane's cabin. He wondered if he'd just witnessed a certain kind of respect in the sniper's eyes. He sighed, concluding that it couldn't have been anything else. It was strange how the dangers they had faced during the course of the mission seemed to have brought them closer together while actually Llorrin would've expected Chuth to have become even more self-centered under these dire circumstances.
We'll just see how long it lasts, Llorrin thought as he stumbled out of the palisade, swaying by some guards that were looking out over the shore. He thought he heard the men snicker behind his back, but didn't really care.
Llorrin's boots sunk deeply into the wet sand as he wobbled towards the edge of the beach. He tried to take deep breaths to get a clearer head, but the ship was getting closer faster than the effects of the alcohol were subsiding. A sloop was awaiting him in the water, and he hoped he wouldn't trip up and land in the water as he tried to climb into the boat. Somehow he didn't, but the marine steering the sloop gave Llorrin a suspicious look as he sank back and spread out his arms to his side, dropping his head back to stare at the sky that was spinning above him. The gentle waves were soothing and he felt strangely calm considering he was about to go see his captain in a drunken stupor, but the moment passed too soon. Before long they had reached the Orcduster, and a ladder was thrown down from the deck. When at first Llorrin didn't move the other marine started poking him with the spade, forcing him to get up.
By the Light, Llorrin thought. By now the entire world had begun to spin around him as he slowly rose to his feet on the boat. He heard the marine swear faintly and seemingly distantly as the boat began to rock under his clumsy movements.
The next time that ladder passes by, I'll grab on to it, Llorrin thought as the world kept spinning. He leaned forward and reached out for the ladder and breathed a sigh of relief when his hands caught onto it instead of grasping into nothingness. Llorrin knew the climb was going to be difficult in his current state so he decided to take a solid start. As he pushed himself up and off the boat he heard a cry and a splash behind him. Nevertheless he continued his way up undisturbed. The ladder ended up being shorter than he had first estimated and the elite marines that had stayed behind to guard the Orcduster were quick to pull him up onto the deck once he came within arm's reach. Llorrin thanked the armoured men with a big grin, but when they grumbled something and pointed at the captain's cabin his grin quickly faded. As the marines shook their heads at one another he staggered in the direction of the cabin.
Captain Adane's not going to be very happy, Llorrin thought, reaching out for the doorknob when a voice from the quarterdeck right above him stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Oh Llorrin!"
Llorrin looked up, only to see a waterfall of sea water bearing down on him. He squeezed his eyes shut against the salty water. He didn't cry out in protest, but instead found himself wondering what the hell had just happened. When he'd finished rubbing the water out of his eyes he looked up to see Irewyth towering over him from the quarterdeck. She was leaning into the quarterdeck's railing with her arms crossed, a cocky smile adorning her face. An empty bucket stood by her side.
"You looked like you needed that," she said, her smile reflecting the moonlight.
Llorrin sighed, shook his head and entered the captain's cabin anyway, too tired and confused to say anything in return. He was drunk, but everyone else was acting strange.
The inside of the cabin welcomed him with its warm embrace. Wet as he was, Llorrin was happy to be out of the cold night air. He'd come here to speak to Captain Adane before a few times, but not as much as he would've liked. The inside of the small cabin was well-lighted by oil lamps, which gave him a clear view of the place he hoped he'd one day be able to call his own. Perhaps by that time I'll have some trophies of my own to redecorate this place. Adane has horrible taste, Llorrin thought as his eyes strayed over the skull of a defeated orc champion hanging directly to the left. Llorrin preferred to bury his enemies and forget about them rather than hang them up like trophies - doing so seemed to grant them importance even in death.
Opposite from the skull was a painting depicting Kul Tiras, which was flanked by a collection of military decorations Llorrin could only dream to have. He realized how much he missed home when the painting of Kul Tiras pulled his attention away from everything else. Llorrin's eyes narrowed a little when something caught his attention. Parts of the painting looked odd somehow. Some colours on the canvas were different, brighter, almost like they'd been applied more recently. He wondered what had caused the change. It almost made him forget his actual reason for being here. Realizing he was getting distracted, Llorrin pulled his eyes away from the painting.
Captain Adane was sitting behind his desk. He was busy making measurements on what Llorrin assumed to be a map of the shore the search parties had charted up until now. At first glance, it didn't look like they'd been able to piece together a lot. Adane continued undisturbed, leaving Llorrin unsure what to do. Behind the captain were several shelves that contained books and maps, all of which Adane had no doubt studied meticulously to become a captain. He quickly looked away from the shelves, spotting Adane's comfy-looking bed at the far end of the cabin. Llorrin held back a yawn, suddenly painfully aware of how tired he was. Adane only looked up after what felt like an eternity had passed. The captain didn't say a word, but the question was written in his eyes.
"It was Irewyth, she-" Llorrin tried to explain, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, but Adane cut off his sentence with a dismissive wave of his hand and motioned for Llorrin to sit down. He quickly did as he was told.
"Save it, Llorrin. There's enough on my mind already. I've been thinking for a long time, and I believe I have finally made up my mind," the captain announced.
Adane paused and went about studying the map again.
Is that why you had me called for on this ungodly hour? Llorrin thought, but he wasn't so drunk he was going to say that out loud. Whatever Adane had decided, he hoped it would involve sailing back to make war on the orcs as soon as possible.
"I've decided to make you an officer," the captain suddenly said. When he saw the surprise and delight on Llorrin's face his eyes hardened. "Warrant officer, that is. I'm giving you a chance to prove yourself, and if you fail to complete the tasks given to you, someone else will take your place. Understood?"
Llorrin held back a grin as he saluted. "Yes, sir."
Then, the possible implications began to dawn on him. Being a warrant officer might not turn out to be as exciting as he would have hoped. Would he be made to guard supplies or keep track of the repairs being made to the ship? Would he be forced to stay on board while the rest of the crew roamed the wastes? Suddenly the idea of being promoted no longer seemed as appealing.
"You won't be guarding crates," Adane, who seemed to be able to read his mind, said. "Right now, I need someone to lead the search parties. Do well, and you may be given a more responsible position on board this ship. We need to find and rescue as much of our stranded men as possible, and we have little time to do so. We may not be staying here for much longer."
Llorrin didn't dare ask if his captain was implying what he hoped he was implying.
"Sir?"
Adane's eyes were as hard and as dark as onyx. The captain was clearly as troubled as he was. Llorrin felt himself sober up quickly under that gaze.
"It's Daelin," he said briefly. The captain had been close friends with Admiral Proudmoore, it came as no surprise that he called him by his first name.
"If he truly is dead, we must follow his orders and return to continue his war against the Horde."
Llorrin's heart leapt up, though it sunk again quickly because of the dead serious look his captain was giving him.
"However, we won't be making the same mistakes he did," Adane said, slowly clenching his hand into a fist.
That left Llorrin momentarily speechless. Forgetting the Grand Admiral's title was one thing, but accusing Admiral Proudmoore of making mistakes was something different altogether. Captain Adane perceived his doubt.
"Half a fleet against an entire nation. Madness," the captain sighed, shaking his head.
"Madness?" Llorrin repeated. "You're speaking of Admiral Proudmoore!" he reminded him. For a mere moment the captain averted his eyes and actually looked slightly guilty.
"I fear his zeal may have clouded his judgement," Adane explained, raising his hand in between them like a shield. A few painful moments passed in between them.
"I know what you're thinking, because I feel the same," the captain finally said, dropping his hand to the table. "You wanted to be there at his side. We were not, so there's no use in dwelling on that. We're still alive. We can avenge him."
Llorrin's heartbeat rose, beating painfully.
"What are you planning?"
"I want to leave this hellhole as soon as we've finished making repairs. We cannot abandon our task without Lieutenant Alverold's orders though, not while we don't have absolute certainty that Daelin is dead. If there's even a chance Alverold is still alive, we need to seize it. I'm sending out more search parties tomorrow, and yours will be among them. I'm counting on you to find him. Your people can handle any situation out there. You proved that today. Now go get some rest. That's an order."
For the first time Llorrin truly saw how the years had carved their way onto his captain's face. It worried him.
"Sir."
Llorrin got up and saluted, departing quickly, although he didn't follow his captain's commands immediately. As he opened the door he looked up warily at the quarterdeck above him, figuring Irewyth had had plenty of time to fill another bucket. When he didn't see her he stepped through the door, closing it behind him and looking at the guards patrolling the deck to see if they were paying attention to him. They weren't. The guards' eyes mostly drifted off to the sea, as if they hadn't given up hope that more survivors would come and rally on this shore. Llorrin had little hope to waste on such dreams. He quickly and silently ran up the stairs to the quarterdeck, where he found Irewyth standing alone at the far side of the ship.
The relative darkness of the early evening made her even more beautiful. The moonlight spilling onto her skin made her stand out like a diamond among a pile of rocks. Irewyth was staring out across the sea like the rest of the guards, a rare calm look set in her otherwise lively eyes. Even in the dark of night he thought he caught the same longing on her face he had felt ever since he'd heard about Daelin's fate: the wish to finally get back into the real world and make a difference. Llorrin slowed down as he approached Irewyth, and of course the hydromancess noticed him well before he ever reached her. A sharp breeze made his wet skin tingle, but he didn't shiver even when she set her eyes on him. Although those sea coloured eyes seemed calm now, he knew they could erupt into a storm at any moment.
"Irewyth... I wanted to thank you," he said, straightening his back.
She snickered and looked away.
"For pouring a bucket of water over you?"
"You know that's not what I mean," Llorrin said with a voice that made it clear he wasn't willing to play any games.
"Oh. So he told you, didn't he?"
Llorrin felt he was treading on thin ice. He was only guessing she had had a helping hand in her promotion, after all. Nevertheless it was too late to turn back now.
"No, but it wasn't too hard to figure out. Or are you going to tell me Carekon delivered the report in such an inspiring way that it made Captain Adane decide to promote me?" Llorrin said, chuckling.
Irewyth frowned briefly and looked away. The memory of Llorrin succeeding against the warlock where she had failed still seemed to bother her, or was it something else?
"I merely told the truth," she shrugged. Then she quickly changed the subject. "So why are you really here?"
Now it was Llorrin's turn to shrug.
"I already told you. I just wanted to say thanks," he said casually.
Irewyth studied his face thoroughly for a couple of moments.
"Just wanted to say thanks?" the hydromancess repeated with a raised eyebrow, her voice dripping with disbelief. Llorrin smiled slightly. It was likely the alcohol was making him audacious, but he didn't mind either way.
"Well, it could be I'm here for something else-" he said, taking another step forward, but Irewyth extended a hand towards his chest and held him at arm's length.
"Hush," she said. "You know I like you, Llorrin-"
Do you now? You haven't done much to show it, Llorrin thought. It was a nice lie, but not one he could convince himself to believe for more than a second even if he wanted to.
"- but it shouldn't surprise you I would prefer someone else..."
That sounded awfully specific. "Someone else?"
"Yes... Someone like Wheann, for instance."
Llorrin frowned. Wheann. He should've known. But if she likes him better, why recommend me for command?
"Because he's an elf?" he guessed, his words coming out harder than he had meant them to. Nevertheless he felt no regret.
Irewyth smirked and dropped her hand from his chest as she broke contact with his fierce eyes, turning away and to stare at the sea once more.
"He's only a half-elf, you silly boy, but still the best this crew has to offer. I always wanted to marry an elf, you know, back when I was studying in Dalaran, but of course that became impossible after what Prince Arthas did to the city..." She paused and for a moment Llorrin could almost feel her pain. Almost. "We were forced to flee, and those elves that survived changed completely. They started acting strange, distant..."
"Really? I would've guessed the elves would've been the most likely to keep their wits about them," Llorrin said. He hadn't met many elves, but rumour had it they were a resilient people, strong of body as well as mind.
Irewyth chewed on her tongue. "Perhaps immortality makes seeing the world go to hell around you even worse. Even if they survive, they will never be free of the pain of losing everything they ever knew," she said in a small voice. "Or maybe death frightens them more because they have so much more to lose." She shook her head. "Nevertheless, they should be grateful for their privilege. To history us humans are just leaves in the wind. I only fully realized that when the undead broke into the city... I... I saw several archmagi slaughtered right before my eyes. People I'd looked up to, admired, considered my betters... They were simply torn apart and left to be forgotten. Afterwards I realized most of them had been nearing the end of their lives anyway. For all their wisdom, their mortal shells condemned them to a fate of near insignificance. Such is the destiny of anyone unlucky enough to be born a human. I couldn't do that to anyone. My children need to live long enough to carry on my legacy." She looked at Llorrin from the corner of her eye. "A proper legacy."
Her calculated calm was aggravating. In Llorrin's experience, many humans were jealous of half-elves' extended life spans. While he couldn't agree with the general consensus on this one, he'd still have preferred Irewyth to fall in line for this once, even though he realized it was for selfish reasons. Either she didn't notice his irritation, or she didn't care. Probably the latter, he thought. His face must have showed the way he felt about what she'd just said, because she made as close to an apologetic face as he'd ever seen her do. It wasn't enough.
"We all have our ways to look at different races, Llorrin. You do it as well. You hate all orcs by default, and I don't want to be with any human, by default," she explained.
That had to be the most obnoxious thing Llorrin had ever heard. It was as if Irewyth was slamming every mother who had ever brought a child into the world - including her own. Sure, to live meant to die, and humans had more limited lifespans than many of the other races, but not every person, elf or otherwise, was destined for greatness, and it would be folly to suggest no human had ever established a lasting legacy. Sir Anduin Lothar, Khadgar the Archmage, even Admiral Proudmoore... Llorrin would bet his head their names would still echo through history even a hundred years from now. He could tell Irewyth actually believed she was being rational, too, which made it even worse. Her insults to these historical icons and even their entire race notwithstanding, comparing his attitude towards orcs - which was built on far graver motivations than wanting to establish a 'legacy' - to her purely egoistical attitude was more than just a slap in the face. Suddenly it dawned on him how cold he was. Irewyth put a finger on his lips before he could say anything.
"It's nothing personal," she entrusted him, and he had a feeling she meant it, but that did little to stop the bleeding of his heart.
Unable to say anything else, Llorrin sighed in frustration and turned away, making haste to descend the stairs down to the main deck. He had just reached the last few steps when he heard her voice once again.
"Oh Llorrin."
He didn't stop immediately, only stopping to look over his shoulder when he had reached the bottom of the stairs. Llorrin wondered what more she could possibly have to say.
"Thanks for saving my life."
Llorrin sighed again and left without a word. Words are meaningless, he thought bitterly as he started his way back towards the camp. There was a long day ahead of him, and a short, uncomfortable night.
Everyone wanted to see the orb he had gained from the fight, as well. The recognition he was getting was something Llorrin had vied for all his life, but it couldn't replace the hollow feeling he had inside, the guilty sensation that told him he was nothing more than a liar. Orders had been strict. As soon as Carekon and Irewyth had delivered their report, the rest of the party had been ordered not to breathe a word about Daelin being dead to anyone. Captain Adane considered it good luck that the men had been wise enough to keep their mouths shut about the matter even before he’d told them to. Llorrin sighed. While he understood they couldn't afford morale to drop based on a rumour, it still felt wrong to keep the truth from the others. Daelin had been his admiral as well as theirs and the men were probably looking forward to rejoining him as much as Llorrin was, or rather, had been. The most difficult moment had come when a marine had congratulated him, telling him Daelin would have been proud of his achievements today. Llorrin was certain he’d never figure out how he'd managed smile at the comment while he was dying inside.
I deserve to be shot... or fed to the Silithids, he thought bitterly.
His eyes strayed up at the sky, finding the moon. The temperature had dropped severely during the night and the sea breeze now had a chilly edge to it, but that was the least of his concerns. He stared back into the fire. Burning Masters... he thought, wondering what abominations the warlock could have been referring to. Could the old orc's masters have somehow been connected to the unnatural storm that had scattered their fleet? No, that seemed like too much of a stretch. Still, he had the feeling they'd only witnessed the tip of the iceberg.
Llorrin didn't look forward much to spending the night on this beach. After having witnessed the Silithids and the Sandfury trolls during daytime, Llorrin wondered what horrors the night would bring in this desolate country. Was this unholy creature-ridden place truly worth the presence of the Kul Tiras navy? They should have been at this 'city of Theramore' the warlock had mentioned, to stand by their admiral's side and die protecting him if they had to, not rot away here and be doomed to not leave even the faintest mark on history.
Maybe it's not true, the young marine tried to tell himself yet again, his sense of logic immediately kicking in to crush his hopes.
He took another swig of rum to ignore the pain. The inside of his head started to feel even more warm and fuzzy and he quickly felt unable to worry about anything. Wheann was right Llorrin thought as the rum set his throat on fire. The alcohol did dull the pain - both kinds - somewhat, but he knew his injuries and worries would still be there even long after he'd become sober again. Llorrin's fingers grazed the soft bandages that had been applied around his stomach. The skin below was itchy and the cloth had already become moist. He wished he could already have the bandages changed. Llorrin felt a hand on his shoulder and wondered what it was going to be, showing off the orb or telling the story of his fight with the warlock. He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see it was Chuth. His muscles tensed up, preparing for another fight, but then he realized Chuth hadn't come to brawl. There was a mix of admiration and fear in the gruff man's eyes, a look Llorrin had never witnessed before.
"Cap'n Adane wants ta see ya. He's waitin' for ya in his cabin," Chuth announced, his voice trembling ever so slightly. That caught Llorrin with his pants down. It was the last thing he'd expected, and he wasn't in a state to go see the captain at all. Surely Carekon and Irewyth's reports should have provided him with enough information, unless...
"Now?" he asked, speaking with a thick tongue. He was surprised Chuth didn't grin at his predicament.
"Now," the sniper said, nodding.
As Llorrin pushed himself up he absently handed the bottle to Wheann, who had made the worst drinking partner ever. A few sips of rum and the half-elf had been as drunk as ten men, unable to speak intelligibly. It was a surprise he was still awake and drinking even more. Llorrin had just walked past Chuth when he felt the sniper's hand on his shoulder once again. Llorrin turned, wondering what was eating the guy. Chuth still had that strange look in his eyes and didn't speak his mind. They stared at each other for a couple of awkward moments until Chuth finally broke the silence.
"Listen' greeny, ya know I don't like ya, but I gotta admit, ye saved our skins out there."
Llorrin was knocked for six. Gratitude? Praise? From Chuth? Impossible. He wished he still had the bottle so he could check how much of that rum he had actually had. If he hadn't known better he would've thought Chuth was far more drunk than he was, but even in this state he knew that couldn't be. If there was one thing Llorrin would admit Chuth was better at than he was, it would be holding his liquor.
"We all do what we can," Llorrin replied with a lazy grin, too baffled and drunk to come up with a better return. He turned away quickly. Llorrin had more pressing concerns than Chuth's strange behaviour, like figuring out how he was going to sober up in the short time he had to make it to Captain Adane's cabin. He wondered if he'd just witnessed a certain kind of respect in the sniper's eyes. He sighed, concluding that it couldn't have been anything else. It was strange how the dangers they had faced during the course of the mission seemed to have brought them closer together while actually Llorrin would've expected Chuth to have become even more self-centered under these dire circumstances.
We'll just see how long it lasts, Llorrin thought as he stumbled out of the palisade, swaying by some guards that were looking out over the shore. He thought he heard the men snicker behind his back, but didn't really care.
Llorrin's boots sunk deeply into the wet sand as he wobbled towards the edge of the beach. He tried to take deep breaths to get a clearer head, but the ship was getting closer faster than the effects of the alcohol were subsiding. A sloop was awaiting him in the water, and he hoped he wouldn't trip up and land in the water as he tried to climb into the boat. Somehow he didn't, but the marine steering the sloop gave Llorrin a suspicious look as he sank back and spread out his arms to his side, dropping his head back to stare at the sky that was spinning above him. The gentle waves were soothing and he felt strangely calm considering he was about to go see his captain in a drunken stupor, but the moment passed too soon. Before long they had reached the Orcduster, and a ladder was thrown down from the deck. When at first Llorrin didn't move the other marine started poking him with the spade, forcing him to get up.
By the Light, Llorrin thought. By now the entire world had begun to spin around him as he slowly rose to his feet on the boat. He heard the marine swear faintly and seemingly distantly as the boat began to rock under his clumsy movements.
The next time that ladder passes by, I'll grab on to it, Llorrin thought as the world kept spinning. He leaned forward and reached out for the ladder and breathed a sigh of relief when his hands caught onto it instead of grasping into nothingness. Llorrin knew the climb was going to be difficult in his current state so he decided to take a solid start. As he pushed himself up and off the boat he heard a cry and a splash behind him. Nevertheless he continued his way up undisturbed. The ladder ended up being shorter than he had first estimated and the elite marines that had stayed behind to guard the Orcduster were quick to pull him up onto the deck once he came within arm's reach. Llorrin thanked the armoured men with a big grin, but when they grumbled something and pointed at the captain's cabin his grin quickly faded. As the marines shook their heads at one another he staggered in the direction of the cabin.
Captain Adane's not going to be very happy, Llorrin thought, reaching out for the doorknob when a voice from the quarterdeck right above him stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Oh Llorrin!"
Llorrin looked up, only to see a waterfall of sea water bearing down on him. He squeezed his eyes shut against the salty water. He didn't cry out in protest, but instead found himself wondering what the hell had just happened. When he'd finished rubbing the water out of his eyes he looked up to see Irewyth towering over him from the quarterdeck. She was leaning into the quarterdeck's railing with her arms crossed, a cocky smile adorning her face. An empty bucket stood by her side.
"You looked like you needed that," she said, her smile reflecting the moonlight.
Llorrin sighed, shook his head and entered the captain's cabin anyway, too tired and confused to say anything in return. He was drunk, but everyone else was acting strange.
The inside of the cabin welcomed him with its warm embrace. Wet as he was, Llorrin was happy to be out of the cold night air. He'd come here to speak to Captain Adane before a few times, but not as much as he would've liked. The inside of the small cabin was well-lighted by oil lamps, which gave him a clear view of the place he hoped he'd one day be able to call his own. Perhaps by that time I'll have some trophies of my own to redecorate this place. Adane has horrible taste, Llorrin thought as his eyes strayed over the skull of a defeated orc champion hanging directly to the left. Llorrin preferred to bury his enemies and forget about them rather than hang them up like trophies - doing so seemed to grant them importance even in death.
Opposite from the skull was a painting depicting Kul Tiras, which was flanked by a collection of military decorations Llorrin could only dream to have. He realized how much he missed home when the painting of Kul Tiras pulled his attention away from everything else. Llorrin's eyes narrowed a little when something caught his attention. Parts of the painting looked odd somehow. Some colours on the canvas were different, brighter, almost like they'd been applied more recently. He wondered what had caused the change. It almost made him forget his actual reason for being here. Realizing he was getting distracted, Llorrin pulled his eyes away from the painting.
Captain Adane was sitting behind his desk. He was busy making measurements on what Llorrin assumed to be a map of the shore the search parties had charted up until now. At first glance, it didn't look like they'd been able to piece together a lot. Adane continued undisturbed, leaving Llorrin unsure what to do. Behind the captain were several shelves that contained books and maps, all of which Adane had no doubt studied meticulously to become a captain. He quickly looked away from the shelves, spotting Adane's comfy-looking bed at the far end of the cabin. Llorrin held back a yawn, suddenly painfully aware of how tired he was. Adane only looked up after what felt like an eternity had passed. The captain didn't say a word, but the question was written in his eyes.
"It was Irewyth, she-" Llorrin tried to explain, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, but Adane cut off his sentence with a dismissive wave of his hand and motioned for Llorrin to sit down. He quickly did as he was told.
"Save it, Llorrin. There's enough on my mind already. I've been thinking for a long time, and I believe I have finally made up my mind," the captain announced.
Adane paused and went about studying the map again.
Is that why you had me called for on this ungodly hour? Llorrin thought, but he wasn't so drunk he was going to say that out loud. Whatever Adane had decided, he hoped it would involve sailing back to make war on the orcs as soon as possible.
"I've decided to make you an officer," the captain suddenly said. When he saw the surprise and delight on Llorrin's face his eyes hardened. "Warrant officer, that is. I'm giving you a chance to prove yourself, and if you fail to complete the tasks given to you, someone else will take your place. Understood?"
Llorrin held back a grin as he saluted. "Yes, sir."
Then, the possible implications began to dawn on him. Being a warrant officer might not turn out to be as exciting as he would have hoped. Would he be made to guard supplies or keep track of the repairs being made to the ship? Would he be forced to stay on board while the rest of the crew roamed the wastes? Suddenly the idea of being promoted no longer seemed as appealing.
"You won't be guarding crates," Adane, who seemed to be able to read his mind, said. "Right now, I need someone to lead the search parties. Do well, and you may be given a more responsible position on board this ship. We need to find and rescue as much of our stranded men as possible, and we have little time to do so. We may not be staying here for much longer."
Llorrin didn't dare ask if his captain was implying what he hoped he was implying.
"Sir?"
Adane's eyes were as hard and as dark as onyx. The captain was clearly as troubled as he was. Llorrin felt himself sober up quickly under that gaze.
"It's Daelin," he said briefly. The captain had been close friends with Admiral Proudmoore, it came as no surprise that he called him by his first name.
"If he truly is dead, we must follow his orders and return to continue his war against the Horde."
Llorrin's heart leapt up, though it sunk again quickly because of the dead serious look his captain was giving him.
"However, we won't be making the same mistakes he did," Adane said, slowly clenching his hand into a fist.
That left Llorrin momentarily speechless. Forgetting the Grand Admiral's title was one thing, but accusing Admiral Proudmoore of making mistakes was something different altogether. Captain Adane perceived his doubt.
"Half a fleet against an entire nation. Madness," the captain sighed, shaking his head.
"Madness?" Llorrin repeated. "You're speaking of Admiral Proudmoore!" he reminded him. For a mere moment the captain averted his eyes and actually looked slightly guilty.
"I fear his zeal may have clouded his judgement," Adane explained, raising his hand in between them like a shield. A few painful moments passed in between them.
"I know what you're thinking, because I feel the same," the captain finally said, dropping his hand to the table. "You wanted to be there at his side. We were not, so there's no use in dwelling on that. We're still alive. We can avenge him."
Llorrin's heartbeat rose, beating painfully.
"What are you planning?"
"I want to leave this hellhole as soon as we've finished making repairs. We cannot abandon our task without Lieutenant Alverold's orders though, not while we don't have absolute certainty that Daelin is dead. If there's even a chance Alverold is still alive, we need to seize it. I'm sending out more search parties tomorrow, and yours will be among them. I'm counting on you to find him. Your people can handle any situation out there. You proved that today. Now go get some rest. That's an order."
For the first time Llorrin truly saw how the years had carved their way onto his captain's face. It worried him.
"Sir."
Llorrin got up and saluted, departing quickly, although he didn't follow his captain's commands immediately. As he opened the door he looked up warily at the quarterdeck above him, figuring Irewyth had had plenty of time to fill another bucket. When he didn't see her he stepped through the door, closing it behind him and looking at the guards patrolling the deck to see if they were paying attention to him. They weren't. The guards' eyes mostly drifted off to the sea, as if they hadn't given up hope that more survivors would come and rally on this shore. Llorrin had little hope to waste on such dreams. He quickly and silently ran up the stairs to the quarterdeck, where he found Irewyth standing alone at the far side of the ship.
The relative darkness of the early evening made her even more beautiful. The moonlight spilling onto her skin made her stand out like a diamond among a pile of rocks. Irewyth was staring out across the sea like the rest of the guards, a rare calm look set in her otherwise lively eyes. Even in the dark of night he thought he caught the same longing on her face he had felt ever since he'd heard about Daelin's fate: the wish to finally get back into the real world and make a difference. Llorrin slowed down as he approached Irewyth, and of course the hydromancess noticed him well before he ever reached her. A sharp breeze made his wet skin tingle, but he didn't shiver even when she set her eyes on him. Although those sea coloured eyes seemed calm now, he knew they could erupt into a storm at any moment.
"Irewyth... I wanted to thank you," he said, straightening his back.
She snickered and looked away.
"For pouring a bucket of water over you?"
"You know that's not what I mean," Llorrin said with a voice that made it clear he wasn't willing to play any games.
"Oh. So he told you, didn't he?"
Llorrin felt he was treading on thin ice. He was only guessing she had had a helping hand in her promotion, after all. Nevertheless it was too late to turn back now.
"No, but it wasn't too hard to figure out. Or are you going to tell me Carekon delivered the report in such an inspiring way that it made Captain Adane decide to promote me?" Llorrin said, chuckling.
Irewyth frowned briefly and looked away. The memory of Llorrin succeeding against the warlock where she had failed still seemed to bother her, or was it something else?
"I merely told the truth," she shrugged. Then she quickly changed the subject. "So why are you really here?"
Now it was Llorrin's turn to shrug.
"I already told you. I just wanted to say thanks," he said casually.
Irewyth studied his face thoroughly for a couple of moments.
"Just wanted to say thanks?" the hydromancess repeated with a raised eyebrow, her voice dripping with disbelief. Llorrin smiled slightly. It was likely the alcohol was making him audacious, but he didn't mind either way.
"Well, it could be I'm here for something else-" he said, taking another step forward, but Irewyth extended a hand towards his chest and held him at arm's length.
"Hush," she said. "You know I like you, Llorrin-"
Do you now? You haven't done much to show it, Llorrin thought. It was a nice lie, but not one he could convince himself to believe for more than a second even if he wanted to.
"- but it shouldn't surprise you I would prefer someone else..."
That sounded awfully specific. "Someone else?"
"Yes... Someone like Wheann, for instance."
Llorrin frowned. Wheann. He should've known. But if she likes him better, why recommend me for command?
"Because he's an elf?" he guessed, his words coming out harder than he had meant them to. Nevertheless he felt no regret.
Irewyth smirked and dropped her hand from his chest as she broke contact with his fierce eyes, turning away and to stare at the sea once more.
"He's only a half-elf, you silly boy, but still the best this crew has to offer. I always wanted to marry an elf, you know, back when I was studying in Dalaran, but of course that became impossible after what Prince Arthas did to the city..." She paused and for a moment Llorrin could almost feel her pain. Almost. "We were forced to flee, and those elves that survived changed completely. They started acting strange, distant..."
"Really? I would've guessed the elves would've been the most likely to keep their wits about them," Llorrin said. He hadn't met many elves, but rumour had it they were a resilient people, strong of body as well as mind.
Irewyth chewed on her tongue. "Perhaps immortality makes seeing the world go to hell around you even worse. Even if they survive, they will never be free of the pain of losing everything they ever knew," she said in a small voice. "Or maybe death frightens them more because they have so much more to lose." She shook her head. "Nevertheless, they should be grateful for their privilege. To history us humans are just leaves in the wind. I only fully realized that when the undead broke into the city... I... I saw several archmagi slaughtered right before my eyes. People I'd looked up to, admired, considered my betters... They were simply torn apart and left to be forgotten. Afterwards I realized most of them had been nearing the end of their lives anyway. For all their wisdom, their mortal shells condemned them to a fate of near insignificance. Such is the destiny of anyone unlucky enough to be born a human. I couldn't do that to anyone. My children need to live long enough to carry on my legacy." She looked at Llorrin from the corner of her eye. "A proper legacy."
Her calculated calm was aggravating. In Llorrin's experience, many humans were jealous of half-elves' extended life spans. While he couldn't agree with the general consensus on this one, he'd still have preferred Irewyth to fall in line for this once, even though he realized it was for selfish reasons. Either she didn't notice his irritation, or she didn't care. Probably the latter, he thought. His face must have showed the way he felt about what she'd just said, because she made as close to an apologetic face as he'd ever seen her do. It wasn't enough.
"We all have our ways to look at different races, Llorrin. You do it as well. You hate all orcs by default, and I don't want to be with any human, by default," she explained.
That had to be the most obnoxious thing Llorrin had ever heard. It was as if Irewyth was slamming every mother who had ever brought a child into the world - including her own. Sure, to live meant to die, and humans had more limited lifespans than many of the other races, but not every person, elf or otherwise, was destined for greatness, and it would be folly to suggest no human had ever established a lasting legacy. Sir Anduin Lothar, Khadgar the Archmage, even Admiral Proudmoore... Llorrin would bet his head their names would still echo through history even a hundred years from now. He could tell Irewyth actually believed she was being rational, too, which made it even worse. Her insults to these historical icons and even their entire race notwithstanding, comparing his attitude towards orcs - which was built on far graver motivations than wanting to establish a 'legacy' - to her purely egoistical attitude was more than just a slap in the face. Suddenly it dawned on him how cold he was. Irewyth put a finger on his lips before he could say anything.
"It's nothing personal," she entrusted him, and he had a feeling she meant it, but that did little to stop the bleeding of his heart.
Unable to say anything else, Llorrin sighed in frustration and turned away, making haste to descend the stairs down to the main deck. He had just reached the last few steps when he heard her voice once again.
"Oh Llorrin."
He didn't stop immediately, only stopping to look over his shoulder when he had reached the bottom of the stairs. Llorrin wondered what more she could possibly have to say.
"Thanks for saving my life."
Llorrin sighed again and left without a word. Words are meaningless, he thought bitterly as he started his way back towards the camp. There was a long day ahead of him, and a short, uncomfortable night.
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Painful moments, we all go through them from time to time. Fallen Children characters are no different.
To read on: fav.me/d5j4ro8
Gallery: teano.deviantart.com/gallery/3...
Summary: The death of Daelin has implications for the fleet: if the warlock's words were true, they have to abandon their mission and return to Keep Tiragarde, the Kul Tiras fleets' stronghold in Kalimdor. Llorrin is summoned by captain Adane to receive a promotion for his outstanding work. Weary of having to chart Kalimdor, he tells his captain about the warlock's words. Adane is greatly concerned, but explains he does not have the authority to take action if he doesn't have any evidence. After his convo with the captain, Llorrin reveals his feelings for Irewyth. To his shame he finds out these feelings aren't mutual, not because of anything personal, but because of his blood.
To read on: fav.me/d5j4ro8
Gallery: teano.deviantart.com/gallery/3...
Summary: The death of Daelin has implications for the fleet: if the warlock's words were true, they have to abandon their mission and return to Keep Tiragarde, the Kul Tiras fleets' stronghold in Kalimdor. Llorrin is summoned by captain Adane to receive a promotion for his outstanding work. Weary of having to chart Kalimdor, he tells his captain about the warlock's words. Adane is greatly concerned, but explains he does not have the authority to take action if he doesn't have any evidence. After his convo with the captain, Llorrin reveals his feelings for Irewyth. To his shame he finds out these feelings aren't mutual, not because of anything personal, but because of his blood.
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I read through the part with Ire and it sounds very good, the additions too. The part about seeing her "betters" slaughtered is very powerful. The part about the shortness of human life is now even better.
The additions didn't seem too lengthy, especially because the chapter is long enough already (but it's a very interesting chapter, so it's not a bad thing).
The additions didn't seem too lengthy, especially because the chapter is long enough already (but it's a very interesting chapter, so it's not a bad thing).