atworldsend | action | open, choose your own adventure

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action | open, choose your own adventure

a. the garden

Tamhas hates this place, if he's honest. He tries not to - making the best of bad situations and all that - but it feels wrong. The Dark Tower is so like Yggdrasil that sometimes, in the corner of his eye - because the Tower is always in the corner of your eye, he's found - he forgets it isn't the tree, thinks for a heartbeat that maybe he can find a way back. Not quite home, but the closest he has. But then he looks and it's a damn Tower, dark where the tree was all radiant, glorious light. And the fractured plate above is stifling. The sun, Tamhas' guiding beacon, feels so very far away even on bright days. A little like Svartalfheimr, but he supposes there is something to appreciate about this place in that.

It could be worse. It could be Svartalfheimr.

And it's not all bad, he supposes. The garden is nice, even if near all the plants are strange. He's always liked work like this, anyway. Steady, menial. It's comforting, soothing, quelling the itch in his hands. Sian would be delighted at all the strange new growing things to look at, even if there's wrongness here she'd hate, a thought which always makes him miss his sister keenly - Tamhas doesn't know a lot about all the various types there are here, and he's a farmer, not a herbalist, but it's enough. He tries to make it enough, anyway.

So, when he's not fighting monsters somewhere, he frequently comes here. Waters, plants, prunes, harvests - anything that's needing done, anything folk might need a hand with. And he takes solace in it, finds some measure of peace here, which is why he looks fleeting surprised when he almost walks into someone. He's usually more alert than that.

"Ah, sorry -" a fleeting smile, turning slightly wry as he inclines his head in greeting. "- you'd think a man would have learned to pay better attention by now, wouldn't you?" There's a cluster of blue banora white apples in his arms; after a moment, eyebrows raising, he holds one out in offering.

b. a street

A lot is strange and different and weird here, but some things are just as Tamhas remembers. Fighting is one of them. Most things here take to his sword as well as most things did back there, which Tamhas is remarkably grateful for. It's always good to do something. So, when he tumbles down from the plate to a street and finds he has company, he's not terribly perturbed.

He doesn't know what he's fighting. They're like the skeletal, feathered kin of Valravn, but different - of course they bloody are - but they come at him shrieking with claws like sickles and Tamhas responds in kind, falling easily into a dance he knows well. It's strange, fighting alone, not feeling the strength of his friends round about him, not having to dodge the spells Morven slings or consider tossing opponents back for Kenna or making openings for Halldis - but then Tamhas realises he's not fighting alone.

Friend or foe? He can't spare the time to figure that out, fending off blows and delivering his own as furiously as he is, but he resolves to hope for the former and deal with the latter after if necessary. He can't even tell if it's someone in the fight, or someone trying to escape it. Either way, he moves solidly between this new party and the creatures, light flashing along the length of his blade as he brings it down, cutting down one and scattering the rest, just for long enough that he can swiftly glance over at the new arrival. In battle, his face is stern, lips curled in a snarl, though that fades in a moment of genuine concern as speaks.

"You alright?"

And then he's turning back to face the next line of attacks, sweeping out in an arc with his sword to meet them.

c. the forest

Sometimes, it's easier to be a bear than a man. That's proven generally true in the woods around World's End. His senses are better for it, for a start, and the prevailing cold doesn't touch him, and there are things that would attack a man on sight that don't so much as look up at a passing bear.

(Sometimes, Tamhas attacks instead. Not today.)

And he's better at hunting as a bear than he is as a man, which he might consider a point of embarrassment, but he reasons that there are things he can do better than a bear. Hopefully. At the moment, he's up to the forelegs in river water, catching fish. But watchful eyes may notice that this bear, huge and golden furred, is perusing his catch with great, and perhaps unusual, scrutiny. Just as Tamhas is not a botanist, he's not a fishmonger, either, and the fish are as weird here as the plants, so every time he catches one it takes careful deliberation to decide if it's worth eating - or taking to someone who better enjoys and knows cooking - or if it might even be dangerous. So many things are dangerous, here.

The range he's caught today are definitely fish. He can tell that much, though there's one that's borderline, as far as he's concerned. Dubiously, he noses them further along the bank, and turns back to the water.

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It's a lot to take in. Jarring that even if this isn't the Broken Shore it still looks so much like it in a sense. His eyes lower as he accepts the information and processes it carefully. All foreign. All lost.

Light, what has happened to him?

"I would certainly welcome the company, Tamhas. Here-- let me help you gather your fish. Can't come between a hungry man and their supper." He teases softly, finding humor where he can. It's a help for dealing within this, because ontop of everything else his hold feels tenuous and the last thing that he wants to do right now is break down, let alone infront of a new friend. Tamhas doesn't deserve that.

"I felt the world ripple around me when I stepped through that portal. Then I came to over there." He turns, pointing away from the river in the direction he'd stumbled from.

He lets out a soft laugh. "The bear might eat all this. I won't. But there's always folk looking for food around here." Crouched, he begins to gut and clean out the fish, so they'll keep better for the journey. A catch like this would be foolish to waste, but he moves quickly, so he's not leaving Anduin waiting about long.

At the explanation, he hums pensively, eyes flicking over Anduin before he nods. Portal, as well as some other things - the acceptance of Tamhas' tale, the glowing sword - suggests some familiarity with magic, which is good. Probably means this is going to be simpler to understand and take in stride. Tamhas hopes so, anyway.

"So... there are many worlds. Different ones. And they're all connected - apparently to the Tower you might have gotten a glimpse of. So this place, at the base of the Tower, is... kind of an in-between? People from different places have ended up here, usually through taking a door of some kind - I guess a portal counts?"

"I would say that a portal counts the same as any doorway, but I'm no mage." He admits gently, gazing down at Tamhas as he cleans the fish with open admiration and the awe of someone seeing something done that they've never seen before. He knows of course (he's not stupid) that fish must be cleaned when they are caught, but at most he might see someone fishing on the lake, and by the time any fish reaches him it's well-cooked and seasoned without a trace of the raw, living status still afflicting it.

He doesn't want to admit that it looks terribly interesting from his perspective.

"I wonder why we've all been drawn here from other worlds. What purpose it might serve? I've... the idea isn't foreign to me, I've heard stories of adventurers that get drawn into places as such, but I've rarely been a part of such a thing myself.

Onyxia once, as a boy. He can still feel the rougness of the rock against his palm. And Pandaria in itself. Can still smell the scent of Hozen and hear their laughter. Can still remember the shadow of the bell as it collapsed--

He snaps back to Tamhas quickly with a tiny jolt. His leg aches but he ignores it for now, trying to stand strong as a King must, hand on the pommel of the sword as Varian would have done.

"I... wish I could help with that part more." He says instead, a little shyly.

"No, nor me." He grunts, shrugging, then glances up with a somewhat bemused smile. "Heard tell it's... to protect the Tower, from things that mean harm? Tower comes down, so does everything. But folk come, and go, seemingly on a whim, so... it's hard to say, for sure," he says, slow as he picks his way pensively through the words, a little frown settling on his face.

"And there are things meaning harm. It's a dangerous place, this. Less so, in the heart of the city, but, you always need to be careful." His eyes skim over the young man again. In truth, looking at him, he's reminded faintly of Donuel. The stance, the solemnity. Young, but there's something older in his face. The sword is impressive, and he bears it well, bears himself well - but Tamhas doesn't think he's a warrior, though he looks built for it.

A leader, maybe? He can't be certain, and doesn't want to pry.

"Which part? The being brought here? Or the fish?" A faint smile rises to his lips. It's a bleak place and things are hard and Anduin gives off an impression he might have been having a pretty bad day before being dragged here, but maybe that only makes a bit of levity all the more important.

An impish smile appears, and he looks like the decidedly young man that he is once more, raising blue eyes up to tag Tamhas' with a quiet huff of appreciation. "Ah... the fish." He states with a sheepish little smile. A close insurrection of his armor reveals that, while well-made for him, it's new and has been sparingly used. Clean and not yet broken in.

"So there is no returning, except through the Tower." Is never so simple, as his new friend points out so helpfully (to which Anduin is eternally grateful). He pushes a few stray strands of hair from his face, eyes at in tired, but grim determination. "I appreciate your candor, Tamhas." Rarely do folk talk to him normally. Genn comes closest perhaps. Wrathion?

Hm. He can have better friends, and a fellow king who acts as advisor is less a friend and more... a comrade? His father's comrade?

"I'm sorry. I'm not normally like this." He apologizes, as if the Tower hasn't done its share.

Tamhas smile is small, and not without trepidation, but earnest as he looks up at him, giving another little shrug. "Easy enough to learn. Maybe not today, though, given... circumstances," he allows, his smile turning sympathetic. Anduin has enough information being flung at him, no doubt.

"But... there's no need to apologise, you ken." Gentle, but sincere. "Gods, you've been plucked from one place and put in another. There's... a lot to process? To take in? It's... difficult."

Another of those sympathetic studies follows. Tamhas would bet good silver that there's more going on, but he doesn't feel it's his place to push. Is it? Anduin seems like maybe, perhaps, there's enough in mind that he wants to talk, but Tamhas is always hesitant of prying. The words I appreciate your candor ring in his mind, though. Tamhas isn't sure anyone has ever appreciated his candor. Well, maybe a very few. So he offers an understanding smile, and another wee shrug.

"Home can be difficult too though, I suppose."

Edited 2021-10-06 18:19 (UTC)

"You have no idea, my friend." The two words easily flow from his lips and he finds that he means them, body and soul. Tamhas is a friend.

Just a few moments ago I was standing here holding this sword and it felt like my entire world was caving in. Then, just as I resolve myself--" he almost chokes on the words but forces it back with a misty smile, "here I am. I can't tell if that's a blessing to give me more time to adjust or... something more sinister." But he rests his hand on the pommel once more-- trying to find a comfortable way to do so; it still doesn't sit right. He misses his mace, though that feels like dishonor to his father's memory, and he's grateful to have Shalamayne.

Subject change as he catches his breath.

"You're.. very easy to talk to. Are you a druid of some sort, to change into a bear as you did?"

There is a warmth and sincerity in the words my friend that goes beyond the courtesy of acquaintance. Tamhas glances up, expression slackening in a scant show of surprise that ebbs swiftly into warmth of his own, touched by the sentiment - though there's understanding there too, a rueful little crease in his brow as he says, "oh, might have some."

But then he is quiet, letting Anduin speak, sympathetic concern settling clearly on his face as he watches him. It may not be details, but it doesn't need to be. Tamhas knows all of this keenly, and both envies and respects how easily Anduin speaks of it, admires that courage.

Although briefly heartened by the assertation that he's easy to talk to, when Anduin mentions druid his eyes widen and a laugh bubbles out of him, slightly incredulous. "No - gods, no! I'm... just a man." A look of uncertainty passes across his face; is that really true now? But he can't think of how else to explain.

"And... for what it's worth," he says quietly, "I ken well how it feels to feel like the sword is the only thing holding you up."

Not a druid? He's never heard of a man with such a power. For a moment he envies Tamhas, wishing that he has such powers. It's just leftover flights of fancy, but he thinks maybe if he were a wolf or a bear at times it could be... an interesting perspective, if nothing else. But it's what he says after that that makes Anduin such in a breath, his eyes wide.

"I ken well how it feels to feel like the sword is the only thing holding you up."

He glances down at the sword, stroking the pommel as his chin quivers a little. He wants to cry. He hurts and he aches in body body and spirit, but Varian's voice is still in his mind.

What do I do now?
What a king must do.

Even here, he should strive to be brave. There are no doubt souls far worse off than he that might need protection or healing and that at least gives him a little purpose. Something to do to be useful.

"It really is. It was my father's." He offers softly as he gentles his smile. "I've only just gotten it back, and it feels... heavy. Too heavy for the likes of me."

Tamhas looks up at him, that concern settling further upon his face, and that understanding with it. For a moment, he swithers, but in truth his mind is already made up. He rinses off his hands in the river and gets to his feet, stepping around the fish and - pausing only a moment, almost as though to ensure it's alright - coming close to clasp a hand to Anduin's shoulder.

"Ken that well, too," he says quietly, with a wan but earnest smile. He lingers a moment, then steps back. "Come on. We'll get this back to folk who can use it better than me. Better than standing out here - warmer, too." He begins to string them together for carrying. "You hungry?"

Only a few people in their lives had touched Anduin in such a kindly way. Bolvar, in reassurance when he was a boy king, Varian, whether in frustration or pride. Velen and Magni and... Genn.

But all with a paternal or familial sort of angle. This is the first one for him from someone who hasn't known him for years, or in the case of all but Velen, since he was a boy.

It bolsters him a little and his smile grows a little stronger, a deep breath in and out letting him straighten his shoulders. Sharing in that warmth.

"That sounds like a splendid idea." He watches him string them together, marking the movements so that he can try it himself sometime. Surely if he can cut poisonous glands from eels as a teen, he could do something like that.

"Honestly? I am, a little. I haven't had much of an appetite in some time." But he's large and there are people who need food more than him, surely. "Will you tell me a little more of this place, friend?"

Tamhas nods to his response, understanding that, too. How many times has he had to force himself to eat, over the past few months? How many times has he had to force himself to do those mundane, necessary things? "When you're focusing on making it through the big things, sometimes the wee ones fall to the wayside, aye?"

Hands are rinsed off once more and then he straightens again, hefting his catch and nodding his head along the river before setting off. "This way, there's a bridge. Of course I'll tell you more."

The tricky part is where to start. Tamhas' brow furrows as they walk together, expression pensive again. "So... I've been here a few months. A season, maybe, such as they are, here. Other folk have been here longer. Years. some of them. And some have... gone to their homes, and then returned? But there seems no rhyme or reason to it, same as much else here."

His accent is a comfort, Anduin finds. Familiar and yet not, but it's the words that bleed away more of the tension as he falls into step alongside Tamhas. He misses his armor, even if that hasn't set well either. As it is right now he feels a bit like a rogue pretending to be a paladin, even if really he's a priest pretending to be a rogue pretending to be a paladin but that... gets muddled fast.

"A season..." He echoes, dropping his head a little. Others for years, come and gone. A forlorn look at the idea of such lost souls hits his eyes and he gives Tamhas a thoroughly soft look of empathy.

"That sounds... hard. Hard for anyone to bear."

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