History
Ashes - Vittalia Cinderbloom
[Heya! I decided the best place to start with posts would be history. I tend to run with smaller multiple posts, so here we go!]
Ashes
It was not long past midday when the bells first pealed out over Kirin'Var village. It was years prior to the burning legion's crusade against Azeroth; before the shattered world of Draenor had fully fallen into its desolate state by the hand of the warlock Ner'zhul. While there was surely unrest throughout the land as the portals tore through the world, it had all yet to fully take effect. The Fields of Farahlon, now the cracked and lifeless Netherstorm, held their vibrancy and life as they always had-- even as the sea had fallen off into the abyss of that was the twisting nether. Thus, from the relatively isolated point of the Kirin'var Village, with the Horde more or less in defeat, the worst had passed.
The meeting was short. There were some who had not realized the gravity of the Alliance Expedition's plans; that this 'shattered world' would be held as their home in the days to come. Likely until they died. With the sealing of the Dark Portal in what would come to be known as the Hellfire Peninsula, the expeditionary forces had sealed their fate. There was no fanfare to signal its closing; just a simple message delivered to the doorstep of the Kirin Tor by way of a small escort of soldiers. There was little to do now, but attempt to forge ahead in this new plane they found themselves stranded on.
“It doesn't look that bad.” mused a voice. Vittalia turned her head about, peering up to a fellow gnome who stood beside the seated woman, staring out into the verdant fields ahead. “Perhaps they'll be wrong, you know. Things could work splendidly out here.”
The pyromancer shook her head, folding her arms and resting her head atop them as she leaned down. “Perhaps, yes. It's still a lot to swallow-- we're spellcasters, not farmers or settlers.”
“Well, we have a few of those trades with us. Who knows? Maybe you could take some lessons. Learn to raise a barn.” grinned the man.
She nodded passively, though her gaze had drifted aside. Not to the green fields, but the black abyss that seemed to have drawn itself out from where the sea once was. It was an unnerving sight-- though she was no stranger to heights, there just seemed to be... nothing. On and on, nothing but darkness.
“And if that grows?” she asked, motioning to the shattered cliffsides. “We were lucky to survive the first collapse. The village was nearly taken away completely.”
“That's fair.” the fellow mage replied, rolling his shoulder. The thought did seem to bring a bit of discomfort to his face. “...I don't know. But the world is wide enough. As long as we can all keep our head above water, it shouldn't matter. It can't -all- crumble away.”
“That a fact, or are you confusing optimism with reality again?”
“A bit of both. I hope.” he offered, a bit of an awkward chuckle escaping him.
“Well... we'll see.”
Sleeping was hard that night. Spirits had grown low after the announcement, and the quakes from the aching world just didn't seem to stop. Vittalia tossed and turned in bed-- each time her small cottage shook it was all she could resist to rush to the window, trying to see if the abyss had grown any closer-- if she would have to run out to help evacuate more of the village, or if she herself would need to be displaced. By now she wished it was just the orcs she had to worry about. At least they were a threat they could see-- the wards and the guardsmen would surely spot one of the Laughing Skull before they could strike. But this...
The world itself was breaking apart, and all they could do was watch, wait, and pray. And Vittalia wasn't the religious sort.
------------------------------------------------
Day broke with an unsavory start. There was another quake-- and though Vittalia felt as if her night had been sleepless, what short and fleeting slumber she could manage was shattered by the sounds of screams. She burst out of her room, still clad in her gown and cap. It didn't take long to see what had happened-- another row of homes was being encroached upon-- and while the water had drained from the shore, what remained was giving way now as well, with the wharf nearly slipping into the nether entirely.
There wasn't much she could do; it seemed to be a reoccurring matter. All she could do was wait and watch as defenders ran to the rescue of the villagers, helping them clear out their homes to relocate. It just seemed better to stay out of the way, for now.
The quakes continued afterwords, but nothing more seemed in danger of falling-- yet, at least. Vittalia and some of her colleagues found themselves gathered not long after, mostly stuck in silence as they watched the common laborers go about their daily work.
“We could be training.” offered the man from before-- Alexander Darkbolt, a frost mage.
“What's the point?” asked an apprentices amongst them, shaking his head. “What, are we going to be tested? Just press on with training?”
“Seems about as good as any other plan.” remarks Vittalia, shrugging absently to herself. “...The orcs remain a threat, even if we've defeated them as a whole for now, you know.”
“I didn't come into the academy to fight orcs for the rest of my days.”
“None of us came to Dalaran envisioning a life stuck in a crumbling world.” she said, somewhat exasperated in her tone. “But... it's what had to be done.”
The trio went silent once more, staring off into the still-green fields of Farhalon. Vittalia narrowed her eyes, peering intently for a moment. It seemed to be missing a bit of its luster.
She tried not to pay it much thought.
It was not long past midday when the bells first pealed out over Kirin'Var village. It was years prior to the burning legion's crusade against Azeroth; before the shattered world of Draenor had fully fallen into its desolate state by the hand of the warlock Ner'zhul. While there was surely unrest throughout the land as the portals tore through the world, it had all yet to fully take effect. The Fields of Farahlon, now the cracked and lifeless Netherstorm, held their vibrancy and life as they always had-- even as the sea had fallen off into the abyss of that was the twisting nether. Thus, from the relatively isolated point of the Kirin'var Village, with the Horde more or less in defeat, the worst had passed.
The meeting was short. There were some who had not realized the gravity of the Alliance Expedition's plans; that this 'shattered world' would be held as their home in the days to come. Likely until they died. With the sealing of the Dark Portal in what would come to be known as the Hellfire Peninsula, the expeditionary forces had sealed their fate. There was no fanfare to signal its closing; just a simple message delivered to the doorstep of the Kirin Tor by way of a small escort of soldiers. There was little to do now, but attempt to forge ahead in this new plane they found themselves stranded on.
“It doesn't look that bad.” mused a voice. Vittalia turned her head about, peering up to a fellow gnome who stood beside the seated woman, staring out into the verdant fields ahead. “Perhaps they'll be wrong, you know. Things could work splendidly out here.”
The pyromancer shook her head, folding her arms and resting her head atop them as she leaned down. “Perhaps, yes. It's still a lot to swallow-- we're spellcasters, not farmers or settlers.”
“Well, we have a few of those trades with us. Who knows? Maybe you could take some lessons. Learn to raise a barn.” grinned the man.
She nodded passively, though her gaze had drifted aside. Not to the green fields, but the black abyss that seemed to have drawn itself out from where the sea once was. It was an unnerving sight-- though she was no stranger to heights, there just seemed to be... nothing. On and on, nothing but darkness.
“And if that grows?” she asked, motioning to the shattered cliffsides. “We were lucky to survive the first collapse. The village was nearly taken away completely.”
“That's fair.” the fellow mage replied, rolling his shoulder. The thought did seem to bring a bit of discomfort to his face. “...I don't know. But the world is wide enough. As long as we can all keep our head above water, it shouldn't matter. It can't -all- crumble away.”
“That a fact, or are you confusing optimism with reality again?”
“A bit of both. I hope.” he offered, a bit of an awkward chuckle escaping him.
“Well... we'll see.”
Sleeping was hard that night. Spirits had grown low after the announcement, and the quakes from the aching world just didn't seem to stop. Vittalia tossed and turned in bed-- each time her small cottage shook it was all she could resist to rush to the window, trying to see if the abyss had grown any closer-- if she would have to run out to help evacuate more of the village, or if she herself would need to be displaced. By now she wished it was just the orcs she had to worry about. At least they were a threat they could see-- the wards and the guardsmen would surely spot one of the Laughing Skull before they could strike. But this...
The world itself was breaking apart, and all they could do was watch, wait, and pray. And Vittalia wasn't the religious sort.
Day broke with an unsavory start. There was another quake-- and though Vittalia felt as if her night had been sleepless, what short and fleeting slumber she could manage was shattered by the sounds of screams. She burst out of her room, still clad in her gown and cap. It didn't take long to see what had happened-- another row of homes was being encroached upon-- and while the water had drained from the shore, what remained was giving way now as well, with the wharf nearly slipping into the nether entirely.
There wasn't much she could do; it seemed to be a reoccurring matter. All she could do was wait and watch as defenders ran to the rescue of the villagers, helping them clear out their homes to relocate. It just seemed better to stay out of the way, for now.
The quakes continued afterwords, but nothing more seemed in danger of falling-- yet, at least. Vittalia and some of her colleagues found themselves gathered not long after, mostly stuck in silence as they watched the common laborers go about their daily work.
“We could be training.” offered the man from before-- Alexander Darkbolt, a frost mage.
“What's the point?” asked an apprentices amongst them, shaking his head. “What, are we going to be tested? Just press on with training?”
“Seems about as good as any other plan.” remarks Vittalia, shrugging absently to herself. “...The orcs remain a threat, even if we've defeated them as a whole for now, you know.”
“I didn't come into the academy to fight orcs for the rest of my days.”
“None of us came to Dalaran envisioning a life stuck in a crumbling world.” she said, somewhat exasperated in her tone. “But... it's what had to be done.”
The trio went silent once more, staring off into the still-green fields of Farhalon. Vittalia narrowed her eyes, peering intently for a moment. It seemed to be missing a bit of its luster.
She tried not to pay it much thought.
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