Please bare with me as i update this ASAP.

Overview / BiographyEdit

Age: 1660

Hometown: Astranaar

Sex: Female

Current Affiliation / Guild: Nature's Grasp

Current Residence: Darnassus Sentinel Barracks

Class: Hunter

Introduction StoryEdit

The ship creaked as it skirted along the great sea. And Moiraine, Lotira’s nightsaber stirred cautiously as the boat swayed underfoot.

‘The lost continent of Pandaria, eh?’ Chuckled a human to Lotira’s left, as they both stared out across the ocean.

Lotira took in the appearance of the man, and gave a polite smile.

‘You look like no soldier.’ She stated, rather than asked.

‘Merchant.’ He smiled back. ‘Well, I was.’

‘Ah.’ She mused.

‘No matter. My fortune awaits me in the new continent!’

‘I wish you luck.’

The human eyed her and her pet up with curiosity. Despite her relaxed posture leaning on the beams of the deck, she looked ready for action. Her armor was scratched, but neatly polished, as if it was dear to her. An eye patch covered one of her eyes, and her white hair fell in contrast against her darkened shoulder pads. Indeed, this was gear he had not witnessed before. A flask hung from her belt, though he could tell that she was no hard drinker from her demeanor. It was probably water.

‘So from where do you hail?’ He asked her.

‘Originally? From Astranaar.’ She answered.

‘I hear Astranaar has been attacked.’ The merchant said. ‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘One day I will return to aid my people there, but for now my duties once again carry me far from home.’

‘You are a soldier, then?’ He asked inquisitively.

‘A sentinel, yes.’ She said, stroking Moiraine’s ears. The nightsaber purred in response, leaning into her hand. ‘I was sent to aid the fight in the War of the Shifting Sands.’

The merchants eyes widened with amazement. ‘Please, tell me about it! I hear the deserts to the south of Kalimdor hold much wonder!’

The Night Elf eyed the merchant with a slight air of annoyance.

‘Wonder? Maybe from someone viewing the deserts as an outsider. I was stationed there for over a thousand years.’

Her eyes, or rather, eye, stared off into the distance, and the merchant was pretty certain that if it were visible, they would both be glazed over with the recollection of memory.

‘When I had arrived in Silithus, the Silithid had already swarmed a considerable amount of the desert. I arrived with Valstann Staghelm’s unit as an initiate.’

‘Staghelm?’ Exclaimed the merchant. ‘You fought alongside the druid Staghelm?’

‘You are mistaken, merchant. The Staghelm I speak of is not the one you are probably thinking of. I fought alongside Fandral and Valstann Staghelm respectively, though to ask them my name would probably give them blank faces. Not that you can ask them anymore. No, merchant, I was a mere nobody back then. I fear I still am’ She Smiled.

The merchant was listening intently, and Lotira knew that she would have to continue her story. The journey was a long one, after all.

‘The Staghelm you may have heard of is Fandral, and Valstann was his son. I was part of Valstann’s unit. We hit the Silithid hard and fast, but their numbers kept swarming. Thousands upon thousands of them.’

She was absently scratching Moiraine’s ears as she spoke.

‘One fateful day, Valstann was caught by the Silithid general. His father watched on desperately as he was torn asunder. There was little we could do, yet we battled on.’

‘…I am sorry for your loss…’ mumbled the merchant.

‘It was no loss of mine than any other soldier, but to Fandral? It changed him. I cannot begin to fathom what must have gone through his mind.’ It wasn’t until the dragonflights came to aid us that things finally worked in our favour. And the wall was erected to contain whatever filth was behind it. I was stationed in Silithus to scout and guard ever since.’

She pointed to her eye patch. ‘A souvenir, of sorts.’

‘…A fascinating story!’ Smiled the merchant. ‘So you have been in Silithus all this time?’

‘For the next thousand years or so I was to scout and guard in silithus, yes…’ she continued. ‘But then my… area of expertise in dealing with insect like races has meant that my duties were taken elsewhere. I was sent to outland to study the rock flayers and ravagers. To Northrend to help quell the Nerubian uprising, and now, I am charged with setting sail to Pandaria to make contact with another race of insects.’

‘Wow.’ Mused the merchant. ‘Well, I wish you all the best. It sounds like a tough ride.’

‘It is my duty.’ She smiled. ‘And I do it to avoid another massacre as witnessed in Silithus.’

‘I hear that a group of adventurers opened the wall and defeated the evil that lurked within.’

Lotira smiled. ‘They did, though I fear that it wasn’t completely quelled. I am truly grateful for their efforts.’

The merchant nodded in agreement.

‘Look!’ Lotira exclaimed. ‘Our island approaches. Let us see what it has in store for us.’

Lotaera's Point of View: The War of The Shifting SandsEdit

Kalindara stared out over the scorching sand dunes of Silithus, her eyes narrowing in the harsh sun and the flickering of sand in her face. She, and her group of researchers and scouts, had followed the areas of decimation left by a strange insectoid race. First, they had noticed a breach in the sands of Tanaris, the creatures rising up and scurrying around, killing and collecting supplies.

It wasn’t for a while that the researchers and observers had noticed something strange about the creatures, clearly born from chaos. They seemed to operate with purpose and fervor, as if working for a higher cause. There was no communicating with these creatures, no reasoning, yet they seemed to contain an amount of intelligence that set them apart from the other, if sparse, wildlife found in the deserts.

Following the trails, they also found another hive – for this is what they had come to call the insectoid, almost alive, structures they had dug and formed out of the ground, in Un’Goro too.

Grave danger reached Kalindara’s ears soon after. A huge structure, a city, found in the deserts of Silithus like none seen in history. The home to these creatures, the Quiraji.

Word had spread like wildfire. Indeed, this was a grave time. Scouting parties, the ones that survived, reported an army amassing within it’s walls.

That night, in tents set up in the desert of Tanaris, Kalindara gathered her thoughts and his group discussed what had to be done. Out of the darkness, one of their scouts showed up.

‘Kalindara! We have caught a troll from a nearby scouting party. Maybe we can interrogate him for information.’ She stirred from her thoughts beside the fireplace.

‘Bring me a translator.’ She said.

The troll, as she approached, was struggling to get free from the post they had tied him to.

‘He keeps begging us to either kill him or let him go.’ Said the translator.

‘Have you asked him why he is in such a panic?’ Asked Kalindara.

‘I thought that was obvious. We’ve captured him, right?’

‘have you ever come across a troll so eager to have his life taken? Because I haven’t. Translate for me.’

At the sound of the translator speaking to the troll in a dialect he could understand, the troll began ranting in a state of panic.

‘What is he saying?’ Kalindara asked.

The translator stood for a moment, collecting her thoughts.

‘He says we will all die.’

‘Revenge?’ She asked.

‘No. He says the insect people will destroy us all.’

‘Our scouting party?’

‘No.’ Said the translator, with fear in her voice. ‘The entire world.’

By the time the forces moved from the northern territories of Kalimdor, Kalindara and her scouting party were dead, or at least presumed so. They were never found.

Silithus had been overrun by ‘Silithid’, the name given to the insectoid creatures. Fearing the worst, Fandral had appeared on the frontlines, along with his son, Valstann. Hundreds of elves had died in combat against the Silithid, and when thousands of the creatures had been destroyed, another thousand skittered from the sands or buzzed above to take their place. 

In a moment of desperation and fear for his people, Fandral approached the bronze dragonflight, and was turned away.

Amongst a group of initiates, Lotaera nervously marched through the deserts of Tanaris. Her armor barely even fit her, it was slightly too big and reeked of the sweat it’s previous owner must have left. A bow given to her from when she was initiated hung on her back, too heavy for her liking.

‘Do you think we can fight back these creatures?’ Mumbled an initiate to her left. 

It was the first time the initiates had broken silence for a while, the grim realization they were potentially marching to their deaths keeping them lost in thought too much to speak.

Lotaera acknowledged the initiate with a look of slight fear.

‘I have no idea…’ she said quietly, her voice failing her.

As they approached the makeshift outpost set up in the deserts of Tanaris, several of the more keen-eyed initiates had stopped in front. Lotaera was so lost in thought that she almost walked into the person in front of her.

‘Why stop?’ Said one of the initiates, pushing forwards through the group.

Lotaera looked up, suddenly realizing why. The air, far into the distance, looked like it was grey. Was that a flock of birds? The grey mass twisted and swirled in the sky, and then the realization dawned on her like a hammer struck through her soul.

‘Elune’s grace, help us!’ Panicked an initiate in front of her.

There, far in the distance, was thousands and thousands of Silithid, filling the sky like a thundercloud.

Lotaera shifted nervously in the line she was now standing in, facing the Silithid in a gorge chosen by Fandral to fight in. She could hear him delivering a speech, alongside his son, but was too far away to make out exactly what he was saying. Her group eyed everyone nervously, a good few of their numbers weren’t even battle hardened. They certainly will be after this fight.

That or dead.

Lotaera realized that there was a slight ringing in her ears. Had she not had enough to drink? Was she so nervous that her blood was coursing through her veins too fast? Her body was shaking slightly, and a cold film of sweat had formed on her. She could swear that she needed to urinate too.

Was this what pre-fight fear felt like? Did everyone else feel like this?

The ringing was getting louder, and she worried the she was going mad.

‘Do you hear that?’ Whispered an elf in front of her.

‘Sshhhh!’ snapped an elf next to her. ‘Fandral is speaking, have you no respect?’

‘No you don’t understand…’ Continued the elf. ‘I can definitely hear something… A buzzing.’

The elves were starting to shift nervously.

In the distance, a black smear appeared on the ochre sands of the desert.

Fandral was shouting something now, something clearly trying to invoke bravery, but Lotira was so scared that she wasn’t registering what it was he was shouting.

An almighty crack filled the air.

Suddenly, to her left, hundreds of flying Silithid poured out of an opened fissure, trailing the skies like an almighty, buzzing snake.

‘FIGHT! FIGHT DAMN YOU!’ screamed an elf beside her.

Elf met insect. Blade met claw, and bone met carapace as the night elf forces tried desperately to fight off the swarms that now poured from all angles. Lotaera was firing arrows before her mind had even registered that she had, the bodkin-tipped arrows she was using seemed to be penetrating the thick chitin armor of the Silithid.

She was knocked off of her feet as a flying Silithid collided with her, knocking the air from her lungs. It scrabbled in the sand for a few moments, and then turned it’s attention on her.

Panic once again flooded through her mind, her arm reaching behind her into her quiver, desperately trying to find an arrow. Her hands and arms felt numb. She was grabbing thin air.

They say in your final moments, your life flashes in front of your eyes. But not for Lotaera. Her mind flared with what could have been. She could have been a huntress, a leader, a mother. So much she could have done, and now it was about to be ripped from her.

The silithid was upon her, and in an instant, it was still.

From behind a sentinel pulled her swords from the creatures back.

‘Get up!’ She yelled.

‘I…’ Stammered lotira, ready to burst to tears.

The sentinel picked up a quiver from a corpse and threw it at her.

‘Fight.’ She yelled. ‘Fight for your life, and fight for your people!’

Druids and priestesses had formed a group in the midst of the battle, and unbeknownst to Lotaera, they must have formed a plan. She watched as a towering column of blinding light obliterated the swarms defending the gorge, and Fandral led the charge through into the open sands beyond.

The silithid seemed to pull back. Their hulking general towering over the smaller silitid as he signaled for their retreat. For the first time since arriving in Tanaris, lotira felt a moment of safety.

That evening, everyone ate at their campfires in silence. 

The second day brought word that the town of Southwind was all but gone, a shell full of corpses and carapace. Lotaera was unaware of what exactly was going on, but Valstann, Fandral’s son, made a decision to try and recapture whatever they could of the doomed town. When he and his party did not return, Fandral seemed to be fighting an internal conflict within himself. Lotaera had only caught a glimpse of him as he strode purposefully through the camp, but she knew that he feared the worst. Fighting once more broke out that evening, and the elves somehow managed to retain ground. No longer did it feel like an assault; more like a desperate struggle to stay alive.

The third day approached, and once again the elves lined to assault the silithid. Lotaera had been moved closer to the front this time. And she once again felt the panic wash over her.

Fandral, now looking tired, withered and gaunt, addressed his people once more. None around Lotaera looked eager to fight but a few. Most of them, judging by talks in the campfire light last night, thought that this was a lost cause. Maybe even Fandral himself shared this feeling. Once again the silithid came; first it was the buzzing, then the black smear on the horizon, and then panic. 

As Lotaera let fly another arrow into the body of a silithid, she was flung aside by a swooping flyer. Rolling to what she thought would be safety, she pulled herself up only to face another of the creatures. With a bestial snarl she notched another arrow and let it loose into it’s maws.

As it fell another behind it pounced.

Lotaera had no time to notch another shaft, and as she reached for her dagger at her side, the creature lunged at her.

Pain exploded through her face as the pincer of the creature’s mandible pierced through her eye. At the same time, her dagger came up and smashed into the side of the creature’s head, scrambling whatever brain it had inside.

She stood there panting, still. Adrenaline washing over her like a blanket.

And just as sudden as it had washed over her, it left. Lotira fell to the ground, and blacked out.

She awoke next to another sentinel and a druid, who was looking and attempting to heal her eye.

‘Can it be restored?’ asked the sentinel.

‘No.’ Sighed the druid. ‘She has lost it. Even if I wasn’t as tired as I already am, there would be no way of restoring her eye.’

‘At least she lives.’ Said the sentinel. ‘I’m glad. Otherwise dragging her all the way back here would have been for naught.’

‘Th… Thank you.’ Croaked Lotaera.

‘Don’t thank me just yet.’ Grimaced the sentinel. You have both arms and a working eye. You can still fire an arrow so you’ll be sent back out in no time.’

Once her headaches had become bearable, rather than excruciating, she was indeed placed back amongst the camps, bow in hand, ready to fight once more. She had accepted now, that she was a walking corpse. Nothing could stop these creatures.

‘I can’t imagine what Fandral is going through right now…’ Sighed one of the sentinels by the campfire.

‘Fandral…?’ Asked Lotaera.

‘The elf looked at her in shock. ‘You have not heard…?’

Lotaera pointed to her eye.

The elf nodded in understanding. ‘Valstann was killed on the battlefield today by the Silithid general. Held him aloft and tore him asunder like… Well I’m sure you can imagine…’

Lotaera frose.

‘Elune preserve us all.’ She muttered.

The next day, the elves suffered a great defeat, and were pushed back from Silithus entirely, retreating to the crater of Un’Goro. Fandral’s loss had unraveled and demoralized the elves. No one saw this as a fight they could win anymore.

Strangely, word was spreading through the camps that the Silithid forces had mysteriously retreated further into their city, and had left much of Silithus open for recapture. A plan was formulated by higher-ups, but Lotaera was left in the dark, much like most of her comrades. Fandral had left the camp, and silent hushed whispers accused him of retreat. Only three of the initial initiate group Lotaera had arrived with remained, and they had been merged with other groups suffering from similar losses. All of which were left with the lingering question of how they have actually managed to stay alive all this time.

Returning to Silithus brought the relentless sun once again. And lined with the other elves, Lotaera felt the beads of sweat run down her face and sting the wound underneath her eyepatch. This time, Fandral was missing from the front. The generals were standing in their representative spots in front of their units, and it seemed like they were waiting for something.

From behind, Fandral came through the ranks, and with him, four people Lotaera did not recognize. They were all dressed in different, some extravagant garments. Elves strained to look over and around eachother as they passed through the ranks, and then hushed whispers caught up with her.

‘…The dragonflights…’ Came a whisper to her right.

The four people and Fandral made their way to the front of the elves, and there they talked a little more, too far from Lotaera’s ears to hear.

The deafening buzzing came sooner than she had expected.

The elves once again charged forwards, and suddenly there were dragons in the air, catching flame to the hordes of buzzing Silithid as they soared across the battlefield. Lotaera found herself staring in amazement as they decimated the armies of the Silithid, pushing them right up to their own gates of their city. Here, under full assault from the Silithid, The dragonflights and elves barely managed to hold the line together.  The druids and priestesses had moved to the front, and were gathering around the main gates of the wall surrounding the city.

Together, with a blinding light, they began to cast something, some kind of spell, Lotaera was unsure, onto the walls. The elves all held their breaths in anticipation. Were they going to destroy these walls and assault the city itself? Would it be possible to destroy them once and for all?

What happened next both shocked and despaired Lotaera.

The dragonflight had sealed the city of the Silithid inside itself. Such power! One thought still remained at the back of her mind, however, and that was why had the dragonflight not chosen to wipe them out? Were they not strong enough? The remaining forces of Silithid still left outside were quickly taken care of. And as the dragonflight spoke to Fandral, she was ordered to head back to camp to recuperate.

‘Maybe now, we can return to our homes with peace of mind.’ Sighed an exhausted sentinel as they made their way back to camp.

‘Maybe for you…’ Frowned Lotaera. ‘But not for me.’

A scowl of hatred appeared on her face as she turned to face the city walls once more.

‘Not for me…’ 

Of Fire and IceEdit

According to Lotaera’s journal, it had been around 600 years since the War of the Shifting Sands, culminating in the sealing of the Silithid Empire behind what her and her companions had come to simply call ‘The Wall’.

Six hundred and sixty five years, and five days, to be precise.

She had spent her entire life since that incident protecting and scouring the lands around The Wall, ever more detailing in her journal, updating the maps, finding new fauna and flora for the Cenarion Circle to utilize, and reporting any behavior that might be suspicious.

Lotaera snapped out of her thoughtfulness as a hand was placed on her shoulder.

‘What’s on your mind, Lottie?’ Kalyciah smiled, giving a slight squeeze to accentuate her thoughts.

Loteara turned to address Kalyciah, smiling back as she looked into her eyes.

‘Oh, just of years past, Kally.’ She smiled back. Kalyciah and Lotaera had met on an excursion almost three hundred years ago, where they were to scout the wall along the coast edge of Silithus. After… Certain... events had occurred, the two had grown inseparable.

Needless to say, their love for eachother was a well established talk throughout the camp, but never addressed head on.

Lotaera’s eyes darted across Kalycia’s form, and Kalycia gave a playful smile.

‘Always the same with you, isn’t it?’ Chuckled Kalycia.

‘When you two lovebirds are quite done, we have an expedition to get on with.’ Came a voice from over Lotaera’s shoulder.

‘Oh quiet, you knife-wielding buffoon.’ Hissed Kalycia over Lotaera’s shoulder back at him.

‘Kally!’ Scorned Lotaera. ‘Careful, you might actually upset him.’ She smirked.

‘Not I!’ Smiled the elf. ‘I am Galdaran, Blade of the Sands!’ He smiled, Striking a pose.

‘Galdaran, idiot of all of Azeroth, more like...’ Retorted Lotaera. ‘Get your pack on, before I resort to you as our pack mule.’

The trio checked over their equipment as Lotaera mulled over their latest assignment. This was to be another routine patrol of the east side of the wall. In the years that she had been in Silithus, she had done this countless times.

Oh well. She thought. It means more time with kally.

They walked in a staggered formation, with Gadaran at the front, happily whistling to himself. She had often found his cheerful demeanor to be distracting and sometimes unnerving. To her, this place was always a death trap. And she could never shake off what had happened during the war. To him, this place was a playground to test his strength, and what little Lotaera thought he had.

Or brains for that matter… she smiled to herself.

She gave him the benefit of the doubt. He had always pulled through when things got tricky, and what he lacked in seriousness he definitely made up for in courage.

Her attention fell on Kalyciah next, and she smiled. Kalyciah, to her, was everything. Her long, dark purple hair was shifting slightly in what little wind that Silithus cared to offer them, and it brought back thoughts of the late nights they had spent with eachother. Talking and laughing by the campfires.


‘Lottie…?’ Kalyciah had said to her, smiling deeply at each other as they listened to the crackling fire, looking up at the stars.

‘Yes Kally?’ She responded, in a half dream state.

‘I’m in love with you.’ She had replied. ‘I want to tell you this with Elune as my witness. I have never felt for someone as I feel for you. You are my everything. My first morning’s breath. My last thought before sleep. I tell you, Lottie, that I love you.’ 

That night, they shared their first kiss.

Lotaera felt her stomach come alive with the nervous excitement as she remembered their first night together. When they had emerged from the same tent the next morning, many eyebrows were raised, but no one spoke out about it.

Apart from Galdaran.

He gave a sharp whistle.

‘Now there’s some action I’d have liked to have been caught up in!’

‘Go to hell, Galdaran.’ Muttered Lotaera, brushing him aside, and feeling slightly embarrassed. 

‘Whoa there, Lottie, love’s a beautiful thing! And you two are certainly beautiful. If you know, you ever need a third member for backup….' 

‘Keep your tiny weapon to yourself.’ Retorted Kalyciah.

The group around them chuckled, and the insult seemed to just bounce off the elf. Eventually no one bothered them both, and even Galdaran had become pretty close with the couple, making the odd joke or two when he felt daring or bored.


Kalyciah glanced back and gave a smile as they walked on. A rush of happiness filled Lotaera’s mind.

Even love can bloom on the battlefield.

Ahead Galdaran had stopped, and was signaling that he had spotted someone. The group made for a nearby rock formation, and they stared out, the wall in front of them loomed in the distance.

A single, hooded figure was slowly trudging towards the wall.

Unaware of any other scouting parties this far east of the wall, they warily mulled over what they should do. 

‘I say we confront the person. No one should be out here this far close to the wall. What are they thinking?!’ Said Galdaran.

‘I agree, Lottie. It’s not safe for anyone to be out this far. They could be killed.’ Suggested Kalyciah.

‘The figure seems to walk with purpose, and that’s exactly what bothers me. Anyone who comes here reports to the encampment first. Then they are warned about exploration, and usually escorted for their own safety. This person, however, is alone. I don’t like this one bit.’

The group silently stalked the stranger for a short while, being careful not to give themselves away. The stranger reached the wall, and reached out a single hand, his staff in the other.

Suddenly the air was filled with the metallic taste of arcane magics, and Lotaera felt bile rise in her throat.

‘What the hell is he up to?’ Whispered Galdaran.

‘We need to intervene soon. This is becoming dangerous for both us, and them.’ Said Lotaera.

Suddenly, it was Galdaran that stood up and gave an outburst. 

‘You there!’ He shouted. ‘Are you stupid?’

The figure turned to address the group.

‘About time you decided to stop scurrying about like desert beetles. I was growing tired of pretending not to notice you following me.’ A deep, gruff voice growled.

The group stood up and shuffled forwards slightly, warily resting their hands on their weapons.

‘And am I stupid? You insolent little fool. You wouldn’t even be fit to be a court jester in the Prince’s court. Not the he would have time for such things…' 

The prince? Thought Lotaera.

‘Reveal yourself!’ Shouted an angry Galdaran.

‘Silence, Gald.’ Hissed Lotaera.

‘…You are right to tell the unruly one to hold his tongue, girl. And I shal introduce myself. I am Maedlar.’

He pulled back the hood on his robes to reveal his face, and the group stiffened with the reality who this person was.

‘You are an elf? Using the arcane?’ Stammered Galdaran.

‘Shen’dralar.’ Mumbled Lotaera.

‘Correct.’ Mused the figure now known as Maedlar. His beard swayed slightly in the breeze, and his hair was neatly woven in braids reaching down his head and behind his hood. He wore robes of green and yellow, a stark contrast to the almost barren ochre sands surrounding them.

The group and the mage seemed to size eachother up for a second, and it was Kalyciah who spoke first, breaking the tense atmosphere.

‘What is it you are doing here, so far from Eldre’Thalas?’ she asked him.

He drew his attention to her, with a raised brow.

‘Oh? Nothing that concerns anyone but our people.’

‘If that’s the case, then you are far from your people’s authority, and well into ours.’ Said Loteara.

‘You will not intimidate me, girl.’ Scorned the mage.

‘Nor you me, mage.’ She narrowed her eyes at him.

He laughed. ‘I can see that…’ He eyed her up, looking amused at something.

‘Look at you, girl, all coiled up like an asp ready to strike!’

he lunged at the group, scaring them and making them grab their weapons.

‘Hahahaha Such children! Do they honestly send children to patrol the barriers of a treasure trove of power?’

‘He’s mad.’ Whispered Kalycia to Lotaera. ‘You know what happened to Elre’Thalas. The burning legion and the shattering all but destroyed it. This guy has lost it.’

Lotaera summed up their next move. If they attacked him head on, chances are he could be powerful enough to destroy them all in once go. This was her first time encountering a mage. She had no idea what they were capable of.

‘Lower your weapons.’ She sighed.

The mage raised an eyebrow.

‘You seem wiser than I once thought.’ He smirked.

‘My duty is to protect and scout these walls, mage.’ She replied. ‘I ask you again, what is your purpose here? Judging by your answer I will have to act accordingly, as my duty asks of me. Be it kill you, or move on.’

The mage nodded. ‘Duty I can understand and respect, young elf. For it is duty that brings me this far south.’

He stared back at the wall.

‘An experiment brings me here, young ones. A manner of which I cannot speak to you about.’

‘If you cannot tell us more then that, then I will have to ask you to leave. An experminet is to vague a response for my liking. You must report to the encampment North of here before you continue.’

The mage chuckled, which turned into a bellowing laugh.

‘I do not answer to any but the Prince! Insolent children indeed!’

at this response, Lotaera let loose an arrow, and with an almighty crackle, a shield of arcane flashed before their eyes, stopping the arrow dead.

‘You dare strike me, you insolent little…’

A light rumble from the ground stopped the mage mid sentence.

Pools of a viscous green liquid began to seep up through cracks underneath the wall, collecting and pooling.

‘What is this…’ Growled the mage. ‘What trickery is this?!’

The group looked at each other, fear-stricken.

‘This is nothing to do with us!’ Shouted Lotaera.

The group and the mage backed away from the forming pool, now bunched together.

‘This is your doing!’ shouted Kalyciah. ‘What kind of foul spell did you cast before we arrived here? 

‘Nothing…’ Stammered the mage. ‘It was merely a… I don’t need to answer to you!’

The pool of green ooze began to take form, a troll skull rose from the sands and added to the mix. Rocks, bones, old arrows and pebbles swam around it like alive. The skull finally rested atop the ooze, and turned in a slow, terrifying arc to address the group.

‘Elune’s tits….’ Whispered Gardalan.

The giant green ooze let out a terrifying, crackling screetch and lunged at the group. Kalyciah and Lotaera already letting arrows fly, peppering it’s body, but to no avail.

It seemed to take a more acidic form as a defence, spraying acid all over the desert sands, and burning up the arrows ingested into it’s oozing, ever moving skin.

‘I can’t get near it!’ Yelled Gardalan, clutching his arm, burnt from a spray of the creature’s skin.

Lotaera reached for an explosive from her pack, and hurled it at the creature.

‘Eat this, you scum!’

The explosive exploded on impact, spraying acid on the desert and forcing the giant ooze to retch in pain. It turned towards Lotaera and lunged.

Weight hit her from her side, as she was heaved from her feet and pushed away. She hit the ground with a sickening realization at what had just happened.

In the slowest of motions, she watched as her world was torn asunder. Kalyciah looked down at her in almost an apology. The creature had engulfed her within it, and Lotaera could only watch in horror as the love of her life beganto disolve inside it’s skin.

Kalyciah mouthed three last words as she was diffused out of existence.




Lotaera screamed. A scream that pierced her whole body as it shook, there in the sands. Her mind unraveled. She wanted to die. To follow her love and be with her once more.

Two hands behind her shoulders were pulling her away. Galdaran was shouting something in her ears, but the recollection wouldn’t come to her. 

‘Viscosity!’ Shouted the mage suddenly. ‘The science of moving liquids. The colder it gets, the less it will be able to move.’

At this, he summoned the magics, the air around him turning icy cold and frost forming on the rocks of the desert around him. He threw his hands forward and a streak of glistening ice impaled the creature. It began to freeze from the inside out, as the group looked on in terror. It’s scream was deafening.

Just as quickly as the mage had summoned the ice, he began chanting again. The frost around him melting in an instant. A fireball screeched from his open palms. The beast shattered into pieces, and began to melt, the ooze creeping back into the stony fissures and sand form where it had emerged.

He turned to the two elves.

‘You have much to learn. Oh so very much.

About fire and ice.’


Lotaera was still uneasy during the council meetings of Nature’s Grasp. Not because she was relatively new to the life outside of Silithus, but because of one particular fact.

The close proximity of mages amongst their ranks; her proximity to fire, and ice. 

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