Usual Legal Disclaimer: Please refer to "DISCLAIMERS SECTION" on my profile.
Vorigoth Snowsteel belongs to his owner, my friend and guild mate, Valodox (on DeviantArt) / vorigoth (on tumblr).
Arcanist Aranya Ver'Sarn stood on the balcony of her sanctum within the gilded city of Silvermoon, the sun shining down on her. In her hand, she turned over and over a ring made of gold. It boasted a single garnet gem of deepest red, cut in the shape of a teardrop, flanked by two golden wings, spread wide over the band, and crowned with a golden star. The Ver'Sarn signet ring. Passed down since the founding of Quel'thalas and the establishing of the first Sunwell.
Lord Thiodron Ver'Sarn, last Highborne lord of Aranya's family, had designed the ring himself. The man who forsook his title and stood with the resistance against his queen understood in the ancient days what few today truly grasped: no freedom, no glory, nothing truly worth having is ever without cost, without sacrifice. He had come to know this firsthand, and he poured it into the symbolism of his family's new crest, once the Highborne were exiled to the eastern shores. Generations of the Ver'Sarn line went without the noble title and courtly rights that they could have rightfully taken back up again in the new kingdom, but instead refused, honoring their progenitor's sacrifice and wisdom.
"Mistress…" growled a voice behind the blood elf sorceress.
Aranya glanced over her shoulder to look at Vorigoth Snowsteel, an orc whom she counted as one of her truest and most loyal friends. Her glance was brief, and then her gaze went back to the ring in her hand. "I see the houses and syndicates, the kingdoms above and below, rise and fall and tear each other apart, Vorigoth," she said. "I see chaos and order, and see both within each other. I see the hands that move them." Her eyes lifted to look out over the shining elf city. "I see it all come together and unravel, in loyalty and treachery, over and over again. I see my friends and allies scatter to the winds. I see people who are alone unless they are swallowed up by the only order to be seen in the chaos and picked up by the hands that move the pieces." She huffed through her nose, scoffing at herself. "Even now, I play a witting pawn to the Kirin Tor, myself."
A chill air touched her shoulder, the orc coming closer. The death knight's voice was hollow and soft as he asked her in his growling voice, "And what would you do about it?"
Aranya turned to look him in the eyes, blazing fel green meeting lichfire blue, a smile coming to her lips as a twinkle came to her eye. "I think it's high time I stepped up and ordered a little chaos myself."
Origin story for my guild, Sanguine Ring.