Saerya and the Darkfire Circle (( open, also in-game ))

[Saerya]

Saerya and the Darkfire Circle

(( I had originally posted a story called Saerya and the Darkfire Circle as a closed RP. However, I wanted to add a gameplay element to the writing, so I decided to start over. This new story will be a combination of in-game adventures and storytelling. Everyone is welcome to join the adventure, both in game and in the forums. Please note that I may close the story for short periods of time while I add events that happened in-game, usually in video form.

Current status: OPEN ))

Table of Contents:

Chapter I - Father's Day
Chapter II - The Crate
Chapter III - Meeting the Darkfire Circle
Chapter IV - The Legend
Chapter V - Coldridge Valley

[Saerya]

Chapter I - Father's Day

Saerya glanced nervously at the fiery Barrens sun as it began to dip below the Stonetalon Mountains. It was a beautiful sight, but she was running late and had no time for beauty. "Can you go a little bit faster?" she whispered, dropping a few extra copper coins into the wyvern's carrying pouch. The wyvern reacted to the money like a weary Barrens adventurer to an oasis and doubled his speed toward Orgrimmar, leaving in his wake a skinny red wind serpent who was flapping furiously to keep up.

Saerya panted as she ran up the ramp to her family's rented loft in the Valley of Honor. "Happy Father's Day, Daddy! I brought you this..." She trailed off, looked around the unoccupied room, and sat down to catch her breath. The old troll had probably hobbled over to the Valley of Wisdom to bother the city's shamans at work. Saerya hated to admit that she was embarrassed by her father, but the former war hero was now reduced to a blind, hunchbacked shaman with one arm, a limp, and a perpetual wheezing cough. He probably wasn't as sharp as he once was either. He could easily be mistaken for one of the many beggars who lined the streets of Orgrimmar asking adventurers for spare gold coins. Turning to Gabi, her wind serpent companion, Saerya cursed, "Blast this. Let's go find Dad."

A few hours later, Saerya still had not found her father. Their landlord Jin'sora hadn't received payment for the last month's rent, despite the weekly stipend that Saerya sent her father. The shamans said that they hadn't seen him in weeks and wondered how he was faring. The bankers remembered that he had withdrawn all of his possessions, but that had been over two weeks ago. Saerya was starting to worry - if her father had decided to move, surely he would have told her his new address. She checked her mailbox just to make sure.

The letter read:
Dear Ms. Saerya Darkfire,
We regret to inform you of the death of Dr. Tafari Darkfire. Let it be known that he died in combat while serving the Horde.
With deepest apologies for your loss,
The office of Vol'jin

It was a form letter - most of it had been imprinted, and the names were written in a fancy slanted script. "This must be a mistake," thought Saerya. Let it be known that he died in combat while serving the Horde. Her father couldn't even walk without the use of a cane, and when he held a cane, he had no other arm with which to fight. The Horde had a vast army, one that didn't need Dr. Tafari Darkfire. Clutching the letter tightly, Saerya strode purposefully toward Thrall's chamber.

"I need to speak with Master Vol'jin," Saerya said to the orc behind the desk.
"Okay, what's your name?"
"Saerya Darkfire. I need to speak with Vol'jin."
"Hm... How about next Thursday at 3:00 in the afternoon?" The orc shuffled a few papers around.
"No, it's urgent." Saerya slammed the letter on the desk.
"Look, lady. You're just gonna have to be patient. Vol'jin is a very busy troll."
Saerya sighed and rolled her eyes. "Is he in right now?"
"Yes, but he's attending to very important matters."
"That's right he is. He's attending to my very important matters." Without a backward glance, Saerya walked past the desk in a huff of anger while the secretary shouted for the guards.

"Master Vol'jin." Saerya knelt before the troll leader. He was very tall, completely dwarfing Saerya's 9-foot frame.
"You may stand." Saerya stood, her knees trembling. She started to have regrets about barging into Vol'jin's office and wondered if there was a punishment for it.
"You be Saerya Darkfire." Vol'jin ignored Saerya's astonished expression. She was certain that she had never been previously introduced to Vol'jin - he wasn't the type of troll one could forget having met. "You be da splittin' image of Tafari, may he rest in peace wit' da Spirits."
"You mean..." stammered Saerya, "You mean... he's really..." She gulped. "He's really dead?" She swallowed a lump in her throat.
"I'm sorry, young whelp. Tafari no longer be wit' us. He wanted me to give you dis." Vol'jin held out a small, nondescript wooden crate.
Saerya accepted with tears welling up in her eyes. "But he couldn't even walk, let alone fight. For cryin' out loud, the old troll was blind!"
"Remember, true power lies within," Vol'jin walked away as he spoke, "And guards, leave dis girl be."

Clutching the box tightly under one arm, Saerya ran out of Thrall's chamber, through the Drag (almost knocking over three undead rogues), and back up the ramp to her father's flat. She placed the crate on the floor next to the unopened gift-wrapped box and dismissed Gabi with a wave of her hand. Then she knelt and cried.

[Saerya]

Chapter II - The Crate

Saerya laid awake in a bed at the Cenarion Hold inn. Her bare feet dangled off the end, and she wondered how the Tauren ever got comfortable enough to sleep. A night elf druid stepped into the room and stared at her. Then his features began to change. His hair shifted into a vibrant red mohawk, and his skin paled into a bluish shade. He became noticeably more muscular, and two large tusks sprouted from his mouth. The druid-turned-troll then held out his hand to Saerya. In his palm was an iridescent key, which Saerya took without thinking and attached to her key ring. Then the troll's features shifted again, and he became a red wind serpent, flapping its wings loudly against Saerya's face...

"Gabi! Stop that!" Saerya awoke and swatted at her wind serpent companion. Gabi looked pleased with herself and settled into a little coil on the floor, folding her wings against her body. Saerya sighed. The first rays of sun were just hitting the tops of the highest buildings in Orgrimmar - it was too early to be awake. She tried closing her eyes again but gave up trying to sleep after a few sleepless minutes.

Glancing beside her, she noticed the crate that Vol'jin had handed her last night. Then she remembered that her father wouldn't be coming home and felt a twinge of guilt. If she hadn't been so busy working, she could have spent more time with her father. Maybe she could have convinced him to stay away from whatever battle or expedition had been his doom. Maybe if she had been around more, her father would still be alive.

Saerya tried to pry the lid of the crate open using her usual dagger, but it wouldn't budge. As she reached in her backpack for a sharpening stone, she noticed a faint glow. Incredulously, she pulled out an iridescent key - the same key that the troll in her dream had given to her. She looked from the key to the crate, which had no keyhole, and slowly placed the key on top.

The crate disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving only five small flasks and a letter written in her father's scribbly handwriting:
My little Rya,
If I have died in battle, dangerous times are ahead. Contact the rest of the Darkfire Circle immediately. Keep the Circle secret and its members safe.
Persist.
-Dad

Saerya tried to recall anyone who might have been in this secretive "Darkfire Circle". Her mother was dead, her sister was dead, and she knew no one else by the name of Darkfire. She pondered asking the shamans who were friends of her father, but she didn't want to run the risk of telling an outsider about this Circle. She decided to examine the flasks while evaluating her next move.

The first flask was frosted on the outside and cold to the touch. Saerya opened it and poured some of the substance into her father's old cauldron. The contents of the flask resembled a little pile of snow. The second flask was noticeably heavier than the first and filled with what looked like sand. Saerya poured some into the cauldron, taking care not to mix it with whatever was in the first flask. In this manner she continued, examining and pouring a sample from each flask. When she finished, the cauldron contained five neat drops: one which looked like snow, one which looked like sand, one which was reddish orange and steaming, one which was dark ooze, and one which looked like moss.

Saerya watched, mesmerized, as the contents of the cauldron stirred themselves by some unseen magical force. The drops from the five flasks swirled into an iridescent paste, roughly the same color as the key that she had used earlier. Words that Saerya was sure hadn't existed before appeared on the outside of the cauldron. She whispered them aloud.

Ice from the north, bane of the dwarves
Jungle from the east, stronghold against humans
Forest from the center, killers of high elves
Sand from the south, defenders from insects
Shadow from the west, nightmare of the night elves
Your keeper calls upon you, the Trolls of Azeroth

The words disappeared, but nothing happened. Saerya poked gingerly at the paste in the cauldron using her dagger, and nothing happened. Growing bolder, she took off her right glove and stuck a finger into the paste. Saerya screamed as a burning sensation ran up her right arm, and then she lost consciousness.

[Saerya]

Chapter III - Meeting the Darkfire Circle

When Saerya came to her senses, she was sitting in front of the cauldron, which was now overflowing with smoke. The room was dark, although Saerya was certain it was daytime. She could see nothing further than a few feet from the cauldron, and it shocked her to realize that there was only more darkness behind her. Five other trolls sat around the cauldron in a circle.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the trolls sized each other up, remembering centuries-old hostilities. The troll to her immediate left was pale-skinned and white-haired. She wore a white robe and a necklace of ice shards. Everything about her made Saerya feel cold. She looked to be about the same age as Saerya, in fact, all the trolls did. It was like looking at herself in five different skin tones. The troll on Saerya's right gave her the shivers in a different way. She was dark-skinned, dark-haired, and clad in a dark robe. Her small tusks reminded Saerya of a night elf, and her expression was anything but pleasant. Two trolls were roughly identifiable as being a Revantusk and a Sandfury - these two glowered at each other. The last troll was Saerala, a Darkspear whom Saerya knew by name only.

Saerya cleared her throat and began speaking tentatively, "Uh, hi. I'm Saerya, and I was told to find the Darkfire Circle." The other trolls stared at her silently. "I think you might all be --"
"Dey don't speak Orcish. Speak in Trollish." The Revantusk girl made a good point. Saerya started over in broken Trollish - she had spoken mostly Orcish for the last five years and had even lost her accent.
"Hello. My name Saerya. You be Darkfire Circle, yes no?" Saerya waited for a response, but none came, so she went on. "I find you because dangerous time. My father dead in war and write for me to be protecting Darkfire Circle. I knowing nothing more."

After another pregnant pause, the ice troll burst into uncontrollable laughter. She was joined by the rest of the trolls - even Saerala let out a little snicker. "You be Darkfire Circle, yes no?" chortled the ice troll. "I have no clue what the Darkfire Circle is, but who taught you how to speak? A dwarf?" Saerya blushed and laughed nervously, knowing that she had botched her introduction and lowered her credibility. At least the mood in the room was lightened considerably. The Revantusk was now giggling into the Sandfury's shoulder.

"Well, I'm Saeruna. I'm a Frostmane troll, and I haven't smoked any shimmerweed in two days." She burst out laughing again. "Just kidding. I smoked some this morning. Anyone want a hit?" She passed the shimmerweed Saerala on her left.
"I'm Saerala. I'm Darkspear, and a proud slice of Horde. Never hearing Darkfire Circle." Living with the orcs was certainly detrimental to speaking proper Trollish. Saeruna started laughing again, and Saerala made a pouty face and passed the shimmerweed to her left.
"Hi, my name is Saeriko. I'm a Revantusk princess, and I've never heard of the Darkfire Circle either." The Sandfury guffawed at the mention of the word "princess" and yanked the shimmerweed out of Saeriko's hand.
"Saeroz Serpentis - Sandfury warrior... and princess." Saeroz emphasized the last word as she fluttered her eyelashes mockingly at Saeriko, who made a little "hmph" and looked away.
The mysterious dark troll gave a shy smile and said, "Saereth," before passing the shimmerweed to Saerya.

It was obvious that none of the trolls knew what the Darkfire Circle was, but it was equally evident to Saerya that these girls comprised the Circle. She handed the shimmerweed back to Saeruna and said, "I think you all coming to Orgrimmar safely to be while I find what is Circle." The other trolls blinked at her, and pandemonium erupted.
"Safely? It's safe for you, but our tribes don't even get along. How do I know you won't hold me hostage?"
"I can't... just come live there. What about my family?"
"Dude, do you know how far away Orgrimmar is from me? It's totally the other side of the world!"
"I'm not going there."
"Yeah, protection not needing me! I search you with."
"Shuttup Saerala. You already live in Orgrimmar."
"Wait, I thought you were all here anyway?" Saerya shouted above the din. "Aren't we in Orgrimmar right now?" Saerya felt less sure of herself as she spoke.
"No. I was in Revantusk Village and then... I was here." There was a resounding chorus of no's from the rest of the trolls.

Saerya felt overwhelmed and exasperated, and she threw up her hands in defeat. In awe, she stared at the flames that flickered on her right forearm - they looked real, but when she reached out to touch them, all she felt was skin. Mesmerized, she stared as the red-orange flames burned white... and then blue... and then Saerya saw her glove lying on the ground next to where she sat and decided to put it back on and try to resume a normal life. Turning to the Trolls, who stared at her expectantly, she said, "See. I not care if you coming. Just stay safe, right?" She sighed. As soon as she figured out how to get out of this dream-world, she was going to have a nice, stiff drink.

[Saerya]

Chapter IV - The Legend

A Troll legend, inscribed on thirteen clay tablets, read as follows:

It was the dawn of life on Azeroth,
when all who lived were Trolls and Zandalar.
Before the splitting of the Trollish tribes
this tale does take place. Take heed, listen, learn.

A warrior lived, a general, immortal.
No battle he lost, his deeds good and pure.
His name was lost to the fury of Time -
so we shall call him Kirabo, the gift.

Kirabo fought alongside the Titans
against the Old Ones and elementals
of unyielding stone, scorching fire, water
tempestuous, and raging winds of sand.

Strong and handsome, he never seemed to age.
His flesh could not be wounded, his mind sharp
as his twin steel blades. Protector he was
of Troll-kind against the evil Old Ones.

In his hundredth year, or maybe twas two,
still young he met the shaman Nosyzwa.
With beauty unmatched, except by her sight,
her visions that saw into the future.

Kirabo tried to take her as his wife,
but she refused, though close friends they remained.
He married a princess and settled down
in the uncharted expanse of the North.

Years passed, and no one heard from Kirabo.
Nosyzwa, now old, decided to go
north to the forests to find her old friend,
but she knew no happiness would be found.

An ankh she brought, blessed by her ancestors,
to return her spirit to her body,
should she die in battle. Nosyzwa saw
a future in which Trolls would slay each other.

The spirits of the forest were angry,
the land was dark and the trees were dying.
Trolls, warlike and armed to the teeth, took her
by surprise and brought her to see their King.

Upon a throne of bones Kirabo sat,
his visage terrible. With amazement,
Nosyzwa saw that he, in forty years,
had aged all two hundred spent years at once.

In an ancient voice, and full of evil,
the decrepit old man, once a hero,
welcomed Nosyzwa to his new kingdom,
the kingdom he hoped would one day rule all.

"What happened to you, Protector of Trolls?
Surely you have been corrupted, by what
I cannot fathom. Come to your senses -
The Zandalar will never allow this!"

"If you stand against me, you stand to lose.
Guards, kill her and imprison her spirit
in this orb so she can watch me destroy
the Zandalari and all who would fight."

The young guards were no match for Nosyzwa,
as Nosyzwa was no match for the Troll
who once was Kirabo, friend and hero.
Trapped in the orb, she plotted her escape.

A Troll girl with green skin and hair walked past
in the night. Nosyzwa could sense her soul -
it was pure, so she called out to the girl.
"Young one, we must leave this place of evil."

To which the girl replied, "I will help you,
but I must stay. The King is my father.
He was not always this way. My sisters
and I believe tis the Old Ones' doing."

In the chamber of Kirabo's daughters,
Nosyzwa, now freed, created a plan.
"Go to him while he is asleep and take
a vial of blood, to make his power yours."

To the girl with silver hair and pale skin,
Nosyzwa gave Kirabo's magic hands.
To another girl, she gave his swiftness.
Sight and good health were given to two more.

The girl who found Nosyzwa in the night
was given his soul. By dayfall, they were
ready to vanquish the evil that loomed
and threatened the Troll civilization.

One by one, his daughters faced him and fell.
Nosyzwa was weakened by each girl's death,
but as their Protector, she gained their skills.
The hands, feet, eyes, body, and soul in one.

Nosyzwa's wrath came down on Kirabo,
separating the man from the demon,
whom she imprisoned within the same orb
that had held her spirit the night before.

Kirabo, freed from the Old Gods' control,
wept at the loss of his precious daughters,
and Nosyzwa felt guilty that she had
sacrificed their lives, yet she was not dead.

She tore the five Mojos from within her
and, with great suffering, gave them all back.
The girls awoke to find Nosyzwa dead,
their father kneeling before her body.

When the Zandalari heard the story,
they feared recombining the five Mojos
for the destruction it could bring to Trolls.
They sent the girls to each make a new tribe.

The sand, the forest, the jungle, the ice,
the earth - the tribes would never be as one,
and they would war as Nosyzwa foresaw,
except when summoned by the Zandalar.

Thus, the secret Darkfire Circle was made -
the five Mojos and a Zandalari
Protector, to ensure that none alone
would hold the power to destroy all Trolls.

But the only tablets that Saerya had read were the last two. One she stumbled upon among the corrupted Mossflayer tribe in Zul'Mashar, completely by accident, the other she found within the scorching Blackrock Mountain among the Smolderthorn tribe. Since she couldn't read Zandalari, she brought the tablets back to Durotar to be translated by Master Gadrin. Saerya almost called another meeting of the Darkfire Circle to show them the tablets, but she didn't quite trust them yet. Besides, she reasoned, she was the one who was supposed to be protecting them, so as long as she knew what was written, they didn't need to know.

One part was rather confusing, though. The tablets detailed how the Darkfire Circle consisted of five Troll tribes and a Zandalari Protector. As far as she knew, she had grown up in the Echo Isles with the Darkspears - she wasn't Zandalari. Or was she? Saerala was obviously a Darkspear troll, judging by her suspicious nature and her blind allegiance to Thrall and the Horde. That threw out the possibility of Saerya possessing the Mojo attributed to the jungle trolls. And although she had never met anyone in the Zandalar tribe, she recalled hearing rumors about their height. Saerya never seemed to fit through doors. She had even met Tauren that were shorter, although they were stockier and much more furry. The idea plagued her throughout the night. She tossed and turned and woke up every half hour, disappointed that it was not yet day. Finally, she fell into a restless state of half-sleep, from which she awoke screaming.

[Saerya]

Chapter V - Coldridge Valley

Saerya's left hand had vanished. In its place was a well-healed nub that ended at the wrist. There was no scar, no sign that an unwelcome visitor had performed surgery in the night. It didn't even hurt, and Saerya still felt as if she had fingers. If she looked away, she could imagine moving them around. She jammed her left glove on her wrist nub and almost leaned on her hand to think, before she realized that she had no hand.

(( SPOILER ALERT!!

I'm going to bed. I'll finish this up tomorrow, as well as adding video footage of the "rescue mission".

Summary: Saerya is now minus one hand, she goes to tell the DFC and notices that Saeruna is gone, she gathers some people to go find her in Coldridge Valley, and they all get there to find that she's entirely missing, presumed dead, plus the Frostmane trolls think they killed Saeruna, and Saerya goes home sad.

If you want to make an RP post, just pretend that all that has already happened. ))