It is rogue week at World of Lae! I do like my rogues, and I probably have way too many, even if none of them are that well geared or anything. I’m not a good rogue. I forget to hit cloak of shadows when I vanish. I forget I can pick pocket. Sometimes I forget to put poisons on! But it is a lot of fun being able to sneak around mobs, or in one rogue’s case, pvp hotspots on his pvp realm. Anyway, here’s my rogues!
Category Archives: Vaelarian
Vaelarian Ashclaw crouched in the tall grass overlooking the small valley. A copse of trees obscured most of the view, but he could see the trail leading out, and he could hear the saw. There was a small harpy population living in this area of the Barrens, one of the few places with enough trees in the region. While Vaelarian could care less about the harpies, he didn’t want them forced to move north. He loathed even the thought of having to deal with them in his camp on a daily basis. It was better for both him and the harpies if they could keep their trees where they were.
On the further side of the valley, he saw the top of one of the trees start to tip. Even from this distance, he could hear the wood crack as the noise from the saw stopped. The branches made sharp crackling noises as they hit against other trees and snapped on the way toward the ground.
He moved around the ledge overlooking the valley. The less time he had to spend in harpy territory, the better. No doubt they were already aggravated. Vaelarian decided it was best if he didn’t make it worse.
He made his way around to the closest he could get to where the tree fell, planning his quickest route to the area while dealing with as few harpies as possible. He slipped down the steep bank and took cover in a bush next to one of the trees. He could clearly see the saw machine from his hiding spot. A goblin sat in the seat operating the saw. Vaelarian stayed back, watching, as some orcs entered the area. The saw had already cut the limbs from the tree. All that remained was a log. The three orcs hefted it up on their shoulders and carried it down the path out of view.
Vaelarian slipped in closer as the orcs left. The saw operator had already started on another tree. The goblin running the machine was oblivious to the old kaldorei inching closer behind him. He didn’t even have a chance to call out as the elf grabbed him from behind. Vaelarian made it fast, slitting the goblin’s tiny throat, nearly decapitating him, then dropped him back into the seat of the saw machine. Blood covered the controls of the machine, not that Vaelarian was even going to attempt to turn it off. It would have to run out of power eventually. He quickly rummaged through some documents kept in a small drawer inside the machine. He grabbed some that looked important, as well as some that didn’t look as important but were blank on one side. He took the pencil left in the bottom of the drawer too, and quickly left the scene. The machine was still running. Maybe one of the orcs carrying the logs would know how to turn it off, or if they didn’t, maybe they could maim themselves trying.
He hurried back to his camp in the hills. He piled the important looking papers into a stack he intended to take to Astranaar soon. He sat with the paper that was blank on one side, and began to write with the stolen pencil.
(Letter written on old, dirty, bloodied paper. On the opposite side of the paper is proof of ownership of a goblin shredder written in Orcish.)
The Barrens are dangerous now. I am assisting the Sentinels in gathering information, as well as making it difficult for the orcs to accomplish anything. I am fine, but I won’t be able to visit soon.
The orcs and trolls have been killing each other in the Barrens. We have little information to go on, though word has arrived from Darnassus that we are to continue stealing supplies, and fighting orcs. I’ll fight trolls too if they get in the way, but it was specified that we are to focus on the orcs.
It is unsafe for you to visit at my camp. Perhaps Astranaar would be safe, but Raleth would not be welcome there. I will write again when I can.
Vaelarian Ashclaw heard it before he saw it. He had been walking just a short distance south of his camp situated next to a lake in the hills along the border of Ashenvale and the Barrens. Wild potatoes grew plentiful in the area, and he often went to gather them for his stews. He was following the path he usually took when the noise started. It was a loud grinding sound. Machines. Here. Hadn’t the orcs’ pet goblins caused enough trouble already? He dropped his bag of potatoes, and drew his dagger, wandering from his regular path towards the source of the noise.
He moved quickly, but made sure he was hidden from sight as he rounded around one of the hills. There, in the distance, he could see the source of the noise. Saws. They were cutting the trees on the ridge along the border. Further in the distance, they were building some structures.
“Great. New neighbors.” he muttered to himself with a sneer. “I guess I have to go welcome them.” He continued moving along the side of the hill, closer to the machinery and the workers. He stopped at one spot with a decent view of the area. He stayed back in the tall grass, and watched. Most of the workers were orcs, but he did see a goblin or two scamper into one of the machines. There were wagons full of fresh lumber, and a pathway had been carved down the hillside for the wagons to haul their load away, towards Orgrimmar.
He crept closer still, singling out one orc who had stood on the far side of a pile of freshly cut trees. He’d make a fine example. Vaelarian stayed low in the grass as he readied both daggers. The orc remained oblivious to his presence. Just as Vaelarian was about to make his move, a troll dashed from the other side of the small clearing, burying it’s dagger in the orc’s back. Vaelarian inched back as he watched the troll, with the help of another troll, load some of the smaller trees onto a small wagon with a kodo pulling it. What was going on?
He waited until the trolls left before stepping out of his hiding spot. He kneeled at the orc, checking for signs of life. There were none. Using the cut trees as cover, he moved closer to the edge of the ledge. Looking over, he saw more trolls, fighting with more orcs. He moved back quickly, tracing his path back to the tall grass along the hill.
Astranaar needed to hear about this.
I streamed a bit this morning and got lineart/flats done for both Iselwen and Vaelarian.
The sketch pool is now full. 🙂
There is a slight NSFW warning for this one. Nothing’s really showing, but positioning in one of the sketches implies a lot.
It was early morning when Latahlali Ashclaw chose a quiet corner of the park and set her satchel down in the grass. She sat down next to her satchel and took a book out. She smoothed out her robe, and began to read. She had been able to conjure sparks that almost formed a ball of fire for over a week now, but still had not succeeded in truly conjuring fire. Different techniques worked for different people. She had been reading up on different ways of conjuring fire, hoping to find the technique that was right for her. So far, none had worked beyond adding more sparks.
The book she had brought with herself this morning, proved to be promising. She had read some of it the previous day, and thought the sparks had come closer to forming the ball of flame that she had been trying for when she practiced what she had read.
It certainly seemed it would be worth it to read the more in-depth chapters. She read through a few of the pages before reaching for her wand. She stood facing the wall that bordered the park. It was a large stone structure that circled the whole of Dalaran, and judging from the marks on this particular section, it had been used as a target for an apprentice’s practice more than once. Of course, Latahlali didn’t hope to actually be able to fling balls of fire at the wall, not yet, but the wall being there was a good precautionary measure, just in case something did happen. She would just be happy if she could get a ball of fire to form and stay in form for a few seconds. She had no idea how she could make fire move. That would be in the next lesson. For now, her only task was to conjure it.
She whispered the words and concentrated, using some of the techniques she had just read about. Sparks flew near her hands. She said the words again, louder this time. She bit her lip as the sparks fizzled out. She tried again, trying to move her hands while visualizing the fire, just as described in the book. More sparks, more than before, jumped around her hands before fading. It was improvement. She kneeled down, and looked at the book again, opening it to the page she had marked. She reread one of the paragraphs, and nodded to herself before standing again.
She concentrated and said the words. Sparks began to appear near her hands, a lot more, then flame, then…
The voice came from close behind her. A voice she recognized. She jumped, and turned at once. Startled, she had forgotten momentarily what she was conjuring, as she turned to face the man whom had spoken her name. Her grandfather had little time to react as the small fireball hit his shoulder before dissipating. He was knocked off-balance, but caught himself before falling, using one of the park benches to steady himself.
She stared partially in disbelief that was her fireball and a bit stunned that her grandfather had come to see her. She had written twice in the past month and a half and hadn’t heard anything back from him.
He stood, looking at the hole in his shirt. He poked a finger at the burnt thread around it. “Impressive.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Lali asked as her surprise faded. She ran to him and started looking at the hole in the shirt. “You’re burned.”
He looked again. “A little.” He said with a slight frown.
“Oh, we should go to the healer.” She turned and grabbed her book and satchel off of the ground.
“It’s not that bad.” He remained still, as she tried to lead him out of the park.
“I wasn’t expecting you. I’m so sorry.” She frowned, giving up on getting him to follow her to the healer. “Why haven’t you written?”
“I ran out of ink.”
“I’m sure they have some at that permanent camp there.”
“They probably do, but they’re also the only transport out of the basin. They won’t let me ride out if I’m stealing things from them.”
Lali raised a brow, “Then buy it.”
Vael frowned. “You know I don’t use gold much.”
“Aren’t there any orcs there who you can steal from?” Lali asked, remembering how he ‘found’ money in Ashenvale.
“Only one and he only had enough to pay for the round trip here and back. I hoped to stay for a few days if I can find a place to stay.” Vael looked at her expectantly.
“I’ll talk to Raleth about it later. I was just practicing now.” She blinked, “Did you see it?”
“I felt it.” He twitched an ear and walked around to the other side of the bench. He sat sideways on it. “Finish your practice. I’ll stay over here where it’s safe.”
Sentinel Avaniel Windblade frowned as she began to read the letter. Her eyes widened and she almost dropped the letter. The sin’dorei, the one that had been in the grove with the moonwell, was writing to her? She briefly wondered if the paper were corrupt. She put it down on the ground, placing a rock on the corner to hold it in place. She knelt to continue reading. If Vaelarian was still alive, it was worth it to risk reading the rest.
She laughed, repeating the next line to herself out loud, “‘… I want to reassure you that he only helped me to protect his grand-daughter.’ He helped you, all right. He let you escape.” She scowled and continued to read. Her jaw dropped open at the next line. “Safer with you?” She muttered, “Incredible, he either thinks I’m stupid or he’s completely insane.” She read the rest silently. Her expression showing clear disbelief. A small lapse in judgement? He traded his granddaughter for information on the horde’s movements. There was no way that could be considered small. The girl would have been safer with her people. She should have been sent to training, but Vaelarian had refused to force her, perhaps because she always claimed she would go eventually. She would have made a fine sentinel. She was already decently skilled with her blades. If Vaelarian hadn’t given her up as he did, she would still be safe in Ashenvale.
She pushed the rock off the paper, and using her dagger, stabbed the paper where nothing was written. It stuck to her dagger as she lifted it to carry in front of herself. She wouldn’t touch the paper, not from a blood elf, but she had to show the others. Vaelarian was alive. If there were a chance they could lure him back and apprehend him, then that would be one less traitor on the loose.
She smiled as she made her way back to the spire.