Nyx

*A piece of dusty parchment flutters into the Nyx hall on a musty breeze, and lands on the librarian's table as if placed there by an invisible hand. It is covered with scratchy writing in black ink*

My Friends,

Yes, that's what you were, friends. I'm sorry, please forgive me, I have been asleep a long time, over a year, and my memory has never been the same since the plague. More than friends, Nyx was our family. You took both me and my sister Forensia in when we awoke from the nightmare of being Arthas' scourge. Through Nyx we learned that, although emotion and feeling were something we lost when we lost our humanity, we could learn to care for others once more, and to become a little less the monsters that Arthas made us with his plague.

Well, we have awoken again, but we have awoken in a place far away from Nyx and it has made us regretful that we will not see you all again in Azeroth. We could have chosen to come back to you, but we were weary of the constant threat we faced in the lands of the Emerald Dream. Forensia and I are terribly old and tired, and we needed a more peaceful place to spend our days. And so we found ourselves awake in the world of Eonar, without the threat of death at the hands of an alliance murderer, and without our family. We miss you Nyx!.

May the Dark Lady watch over you all

With kind regards,

Maledicta Ebonharte

((We couldn't take the thought of trying to level to 70 with open PvP after a year of not playing, so we transferred to the normal server, Eonar. We'll miss you all, and wish Nyx every success)).

Maledicta, you have made a grave mistake. Science transfered to a normal server, regretted it, and now he's stuck, since you can't transfer from normal to (rp)pvp.

I 'ave missed jah sistahs.
However dere be a chance dat a past life of Warburn be able tah meet jah in Eonar. Add Windwyn to your friends list mah dear friend. (( I will log on him and look for your names. He's my first ever character, one which I retired once I found ED at level 58. ))

A slight smile twitches at Maledicta's lips as she reads the words of the troll.

With a sigh she picks up another piece of parchment.

Dear, dear Warburn,

You became such a good friend to Forensia and I. I am sure we will regret leaving our family to start a new life on Eonar, but we don't regret leaving behind the fear, of always having to look over our shoulders in case some evil gnome or some such decides they want to disrupt our tasks. In another time, our spirits lived on such a world and we were happy there, but we wanted to try out a more exciting place for a change. So, we came to Emerald Dream, and to Nyx, and we were happy there too, but sometimes the frustration would become too much.

We are better off where we are, as far as the frustration goes, and can continue about the business of fighting the burning legion without interference from the alliance. Unless we are in the mood to fight, and then let them fear us, for we are forsaken and we were raised the hard way.

I will look for this ancestor of yours, I'm sure he must be a fine fellow if he comes from the same line as the brave Warburn.

Barefoot notices a crinkled piece of parchment in the Nyx guild hall. She reads it slowly, sadly taking in that a temporary absence has become a permanent loss. Maledicta and Forensia were such friendly, funny sisters, and she will miss their antics. She smiles as she remembers the first time she met them - and Ernie. "I hope they make it," she says aloud to the empty guild hall.

The Blood Knight that proudly bore the title Light of the Sun's Fury threw open the door to the Library. His hands clutched a much abused piece of paper which he shook about like a warding spell. Letters on the page were written in the same manner as a young orc learning his letters; some are even backward. This paper, did Bael'spar Mon'tisto slam down on the desk before his servant, Yaen'gohl.

"Master, remember where you are, please," implored the much beleaguered servant.

Recalling the last time he was in this place, Bael'spar glanced quickly about.

"She's not...here...is she?" Bael'spar whistled. He began to hunch into his shield.

"I am not her keeper," Yaen'gohl slyly replied. "It is best to always assume that she is here. What use are you about to put me too? I'm still working on the letters I found."

"I this was posted in the tavern, I thought you...uh, might want to know what it says. I made a copy for you, so...I could...uh, leave one...for everyone else."

The overworked rogue took the note. A frown appeared over his face.

"I really hate bad news" the paladin bespoke, transferring to a more appropriately solemn appearance.

"Um...yeah," said Yaen'gohl quietly. His mind raced. "It's terrible how they're treating those Sin'doreian orphans."

"I know what you mean."

"If only the Alliance would allow suitable styles into Falcon Watch and the Lower City, but their embargo, you know...a blockade? Um, they don't allow tailors to sell fashionable clothing to noble Sin'doreian orphans..."

"Someone needs to do something about that," resolved Bael'spar, clanging his golden plated gauntlets against his shield, followed with an immediate look of terror.

"Fear not master, she is elsewhere for the time being. Although I imagine she may be here more often than you might wish."

Yaen'gohl's thoughts went back to a curious tome that he had once read concerning the natures of Libraries and those that dwell therein. Where ever books are catalogued, a dimensional rift known as L-Space forms, and shelvers of books everywhere can use those rifts to move between the worlds. Librarian Ebonheart may not currently be in the Nyx Library where she sowed fear and organized quiet, but she would always be able to return.

With his master gone, Yaen'gohl went to the small cook fire and prepared some extremely strong coffee. He thought of his time under the Librarian's intense gaze, and felt lost knowing that it had strangely comforted him as well as gave him disquiet. Taking the fresh coffee from the fire, he poured it into a dusty mug. He carried the mug to the front door, and poured it out in remembrance.

"Give them hell, Librarian," Yaen'gohl whispered just above his breath.

((Awww, now I don't get to hang out with you. You've been a big part of my back story stuff, especially as far as Yaen goes. I hope that I have not made Maledicta do anything that you wouldn't, and treated her with the respect she thinks she should deserve.

I wish you all the best on the new server. Feel free to stop in and abuse some blood elves if you want to. Bael won't mind. The Library is always open.

And, the Pratchett references are intentional.))

Maledicta sat in her chair by the fire. Of course, she couldn't feel its warmth, she hadn't been able to feel anything since, well since before she died. However, the orange flicker amongst the black coals was warming, in a purely nostalgic way. Just like when she saw roses, and she would lean over them and inhale the memory of the scent, for her sense of smell was long gone.

Her sister Forensia sat by the fire, her eyes aglow like the embers, and the grimace that passed for a rapturous smile these days, twisting her features. Forensia reached out towards the flames.

"No!" Maledicta growled, tapping her sister on the wrist with the poker.

"Doesn't hurt," Forensia said, with all the petulance of a child denied a favourite toy.

"I know, but it still burns, and you're losing bits of you all the time. You can't afford to lose any more!"

"Ernie says you're a bit-"

"I don't care what Ernie says, and if I were you I wouldn't be so eager to repeat his words. Especially when they're about me."

"It's so pretty," Forensia sighed. "I just want to hold it."

"Then why don't you make yourself a little fire-ball. The magical fire doesn't hurt you."

Forensia grinned and cupped her hands. She frowned in concentration, the tip of her tongue protruding from the corner of her mouth as a ball of glowing flame began to take form in her hands.

"Just don't throw it indoors," Maledicta told her, rising from her seat with a sigh. The plague had taken them both before they'd had the chance to marry, or have children, and yet Maledicta felt she knew all about what it was like to raise a child. Poor Forensia, she'd been the vivacious one, so pretty, so full of fun. All of the young men in their village had adored her. A talented mage, with such intense inner power, Forensia would have had such a rewarding life, and now what? The plague, and the maggots, had left her with the mind of a child and the memory span of a goldfish, yet her magical abilities had been left intact. It was terribly difficult to keep her safe, and Maledicta often likened Forensia and her powers to a toddler with a crate of explosives and a tinder box.

She crossed the room to the bookshelf. Books were all she had left, besides Forensia. Leaving the library at the Nyx guild hall had been almost as much of a wrench as leaving Nyx behind. She pulled out a book and looked into the space beyond, her mind travelling a familiar path.

She heard mumbled words, voices she recognised and the clang of something metallic.

"Fear not master, she is elsewhere for the time being," came to her ears and she smirked.

So, that pompous twit of a blood elf was making a racket in her library! Well, we'll see about that, she thought, her lips pressed together in a determined line. Hmph.

"Pretty!" her sisters voice rasped, and Maledicta spun around, her attention immediately drawn back to her own world.

"What did I tell you?" She cried, seeing that the end table was burning merrily.

"Didn't throw it," Forensia said smugly. "Just put it down nicely."

Put it down nicely in a wooden fruit bowl, Maledicta sighed inwardly as she picked up the table and it's contents and hurried outside to the rain barrel, dumping the whole lot into the water with a loud hiss.

"That's it," she told her sister, who was watching from the doorway, a sulky pout on what was left of her lips. "No more fireballs in the house."

"Ernie says-"

Maledicta turned around and glared at her sister, who at least had the presence of mind to look at the floor and close her mouth.

((I don't mind you using her at all, and I'd love to see what you've written about her. I may just have to pop in now and then now that L-Space has made its way into Azeroth ))

I can't believe after all my promotion of RP that I chose this beautiful thread to be out of character, but I do so chose.

I have missed you, and am warmed to hear your voices again. Are you open to a suggestion?

Created identical characters to the ones you moved. Your names may even be still available. Then, never leave Horde territory, leaving you immune to Alliance predation. Join Nyx, and be able to drop in anytime and chat. It only costs your time, and you just might have some fun with us. We are considering selecting a new guild hall, and it may be that your characters become permanent honor guards there...or some such.

Family does not need levels, just presence, and your presence has been missed.

Eyesore

Eyesore, or as Forensia would say 'that nice orc who likes to sit in the library'. I had pretty much the same idea myself yesterday and have made a Maledicta for the sole purpose of popping in now and then, especially when there's a gathering of Nyx. She looks exactly the same. I do miss the RP, especially having moved to a normal server, but we wanted to move somewhere we'd know someone and Eonar was the only realm besides Emerald Dream where we knew anyone. I'll talk to my husband about making a Forensia too.

Eyesore's concentration on an important document was nudged from it's contents when he felt a cool wisp of air, and noted the flickering of candles. A faint sense of sage, of disturbed dust, drew his eyebrows together. He put aside Aitana's missive and let his mind follow the scent through the passages of his mind. A slow smile emerged from his wizened face. Maledicta. Maldicta was near.

.

Maledicta closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts. Travelling between the worlds was always a little disconcerting. After a moment she opened her eyes and looked around, taking in the familiar shelving, filled with beloved tomes. An orc was sitting at one of the desks, his back to her as he leaned over a document, a large cat curled sleeping at his feet. The cat lifted its head and she smiled as it turned its head to face her, just as the orc spoke.

"Maledicta," was all he said, and Maledicta smiled again.

"Eyesore, my friend."

"So, are you back to stay? They said you had gone far away?"

"I found a way to come back and visit," she said, moving towards the fire and pouring herself a cup of dark, bitter coffee. "So while I am not exactly back I can visit as often as I'd like...well as often as I dare, without leaving Forensia too much on her own. She's resting just now, so I can stay just a little while. So, my old friend, how have you and this old cat been?"