Koreriverwood - Korellan The Centurion

@jinxandjingles

CREATURES OF THE NIGHT// (ink on paper)

Rebuilding Rustberg

Work on the dock started early every morning which suited Kore just fine. The large Illidari preferred to be kept busy, finding the down time between tasks where the time his own demon whispered incessantly. Volgath's constant scratching just under the skin, his restless need to be free, in control, had only worsened once the Legion was broken and the Centurion had found less and less prey to hunt. With no direction, no focus Kore was finding it harder to control the soul he'd trapped years ago. So he sought out his brothers and found the wave and wind battered island.

Perchedon, the commander of the island, seemed to immediately understand seeing the unkempt hunter walk into the Tavern. Not only had be offered Kore a place in the Hold with the rest of the Brother Illidari but had arranged for Kore's size to be put to use, to which Korellan was eternally thankful for. Frankly, he'd never expected to live to see the Legion fall, and was rather bereft on what to do with himself now that they had. What possible use could a frankly monstrous elf have to anyone? As if his size wasn't intimating enough, the wicked claws and lethal bone spikes jutting from his form were just downright unnerving. He had been remade into a hunter of things that went bump in the night...and not much else.

Perhaps that was why it was so odd to see the Demon Hunter not only volunteering to help with the clean up of the most damaged areas but taking orders from the smaller residents like a well trained dog. Mostly he hauled lumber, and debris from sun up till sun down, putting his strength to good use. Was it glamorous? No, but it gave Kore a sense of place and something to keep his mind focused and at the end of the day a dark ale always waited at the Tavern as he caught supper with the rest of the crew. 

It was while working one day that the idea came rather by accident. He'd been hauling a load of old dock wood, too shattered and in disrepair to be of any use anymore, when his claw had caught on a plank. The soft wood curled as the claw sank, leaving a furrow along its surface. The blind hunter tilted his head this way and that, unable to see exactly what he's done but able to feel it. He scratched again raking all four along the plank and feeling the damage left. Huh....

A memory surfaced of a time long, long ago when he'd still been a man. The smell of fresh cut pine and wood dust, his father sitting hunched over a workbench, his little brother usually making a mess of tools and precut poles. Riverwood, they used to be called. Named for the find craftsmanship of their woodworking that was damn near an art form. One of his father's tables made with color-stained glass could go for thousands of gold if sold to the right noble.

It had been a long time since Korellan had been a Riverwood. He'd given up the name and the craft when his Prince had ordered him to the Black Temple for Illidan's training. Now all that remained was a simple pet name of 'River' that Jari affectionately called him. But.... he gave up the name to become a hunter, and now he didn't even have that. He was rudderless, without direction or idea on what to do with his life now. But that did present a very unique opportunity that only had one answer. Anything. 

"Hey boss!" Kore called over the din of hammering and grunting men. "What are we doing with this old wood?" "Naw'tin. Bound for firewood prob'ly." The human called back only sparing a quick glance up at the Hunter and the pile of scrap before resuming his hammering. Kore looked back at the pile of splintered aged wood, barely able to make out the outline in the shifting grey-ness that was non-magical things. "You mind if I take a few?" The foreman just waved a dismissive hand before remembering the Illidari couldn't truly see such a gesture. "Do as ye like!" That evening when the others went up to supper Kore stayed behind picking through the scrap pile, carefully feeling every plank. ‘Too rotted, too broken, bad grain, terrible knot, barnacle covered....’ Eventually he found three good sized pieces which he carried off to his quarters in the Hold. After that the Illidari could be seen sitting in the sand down by the shore on his days off, turning blocks of wood over and over in his large hands. Sometimes taking a piece of sturdy leather to the wood, rubbing clumps of sand across the surface only to brush it away, feel the wood, and start again.

Four days later when Ajarik went to the Aviary to check on his little bats he'd find the newest addition, a carved wooden bat, hanging from a beam. The tiny orphans pups seemingly having taken a shine to their friend as they piled in the hollow of its wings, cuddling into the warmth they provided. A thank you for his flamboyant brother, and dearest friend.

A week later the second craft was found on the bar top in the Tavern with no note or explanation, a plaque baring two ravens perched inside a Triquetra. An offering to the Town that had welcomed the Illidari without so much as a second thought.

(( Mentions: @jinxandjingles @perchedon @heartoftheravenwra ))

Poor @tiernen-morningwild having to mop tonight.

Mop mop

@jinxandjingles @tiernen-morningwild