Zelphie
12-18-2007, 11:28 AM
((OOC: This is an introduction to another 70 of mine, Newt, Draenei Shaman of Empyrean Dawn. I have never roleplayed with her and after some char development thought it best to explain her with a story. While she makes an extremely brief appearance I'm sure you will understand what type of character she is. Although Gili Rumbleshot's interpretation may be different, it still embodies the spirit of the character. Hope you enjoy!))
Anyone who has taken a moment to reflect on life cannot help but be marveled by its' tenacity and strength, challenging the radicals of the world, and the once inhospitable. Take Netherstorm. A steppe sundered and shattered the most dramatically of all Draenor. Yet even still, life lives on. In a place were even a human, a being of minor perception literally shimmers with the air of energy and arcane, who can feel it coursing through their body, enveloping them into an inescapable, encroaching, drowning aura, life thrives. As follows nature, the ingenuity of the humanoid races, driven to madness in some respects find the opportunities and exploits readily.
Gili Rumbleshot looked across the azure plain with a calculated stare. A tracker native to Aerie Peak, knowing the signs of movement is common knowledge. Netherstorm was different. What was once common knowledge was subjected to a changing, near permeable landscape. What a caravan or war patrol could have traversed one moment could soon become a crevasse or literally torn into the air, suspending with the other floating rock like an asteroid field. One thing could be relied on though, is that certain Naaru technologies have allowed for the integrity around mana forges and other areas to remain. This technology was the reason Gili was here. In many ways, it was the reason anyone was here.
Near him was a human male, busily looking over a map, he attempted to make himself busy more of boredom then actual result. They were situated in a Draenei ruin several hundred feet from an unmarked road. Being a forward scout against Kael'Thalas' army was dangerous, but paid well and was a great resume builder.
"Ey Thurin, ye makes the way of that horrid map yet?" Gili glanced over to the human.
"Leave it to rely on a shifty goblin for forward reconnaissance, I tell ya. To even charge for the information was absurd! A toddler could have drew a more accurate map! Ok here is Manaforge Duro.. that's fine and all. How could he mark this road here, it's literally half a kilometer from where we scouted it!"
Thurin was not used to this place. Fresh into Netherstorm not a week longer, most humanoids must get acclimated, like a human in the lowlands of westfall choosing to move to the tops of Dun Morogh and adjusting their breathing to the altitude. At this point the comparison drops. Not only is this a harsh place for your lungs to get used to, the bristling energy can induce panic and anxiety, or for some, an enhanced but more exhausting mind. People notice a marked difference in emotion of those returning from an extended stay in the arcane-infused land. Especially the case of blood-elves, returning from the Netherstorm is markedly like a drug addict suffering from withdrawal.
Gili sighed. "Settle down lad. It takes some whiles to get used to this place. Eh, even after the nether-shakes be done ye may still not like it, nor care for it. I certainly don't that be sure. Ye know all this lightnin' and thunderin' reminded me of an old childhood story, if ye got the ear for it."
Thurin sat down and threw the map aside. "Sure," he replied, not particularly desiring a story but reminding himself that it could calm him down.
"As ye may know, us dwarves aren't tot'ly a religous lot. Nay, we gots a pantheon but thee be of the Titans which seems t'be more real than any deity I know of. Still so say me mother, that the High Father Aman'Thul created the gods of Az'roth to look over the dragonflights and all, at least spirit'ly. If ye could call them gods.. thee be of all-seeing but not exactly all-doing. Except one we knew. It is oft a question of where we be when we die is it not? Where ye go to after ye pass?
He looked to Thurin, half-expecting an answer, then continued. "Well, me mother used to say, that a point of e'vry dwarves life be in'twined wit fate. That fate is a test of their honor that it be. If they pass it they are venerated. Ensured this they be the hall of the great warrior kings in thee afterlife, living with honor and happiness with thee other greats.. right up there with Uther the Lightbringer, the High King Modimus Anvilmar, Redbeards, Bronzebeards, all thee lot. 'Cept no stinkin Dark Iron that for sure! An'way to see this deed be done, the great Valkyries descend from the heavens along bolts of lightnin'. These valkyries be some of the most beautiful, chaste and pure maidens ye will ever see. Ye may think of the grim reaper of human folklore when I say this, but she, the valkyrie, ensures yer safety on the way to thee hall of the warrior kings. She be also protect ye of unnatural death, if it not be the time. It is not something to fear, it is to know you are worthy and ready to have an eternity of happiness."
Thurin listened out of semi-interest. After absorbing it he smirked.
"That sounds like superstitious nonsense." Thurin snorted. "I don't believe in the light or anything of the sort, just some fear control to keep the mass from going into despair. On second thought.." his expression changed, more sincere. "It is nice to want to believe in." He got up and started studying the map again.
Gili frowned and turned again to look down the road. Suddenly a shimmer of light was seen in the distance. It approached rapidly. If he had been home in the Hinterlands, nothing could sneak up on him. But the netherstorm was different, and the fact something had really startled him. Within that instant he heard a commotion behind him. Turning around, he saw Thurin collapse. Trusting his instinct, Gili jumped away in time for a blade to just skim the air in front of him. Amongst the shadows of the Draenei ruin were two fierce green eyes and an outreached arm holding a glowing green dagger. "An infiltrator!" Gili thought. A patrol was upon them.
He got into a defensive stance and remembered the trap he had lain near the front entrance of the ruin. Gili quickly parried the next successive attack with his own dagger that the blood elf made and retreated to the trap. As he backed up while concentrating to avoid the trap, the blood elf made a repeated attack. The warm bite of the blade hit his right shoulder deeply. Just as soon as the rogue lunged did he step on the trap, and became immolated with intense fire. While the infiltrator screamed in pain, Gili scrambled for his pistol and using his injured arm propped against the wall, shot the blood-elf clean in the forehead.
There was no time to clear the elven body with his injured arm. Plus the more he went on, the more Gili became ill, beyond the regular pain his wound had caused. It was clear the blade the infiltrator had used was poisoned. He returned to the inside of the ruin and checked on Thurin. Uninjured, apparently sapped or knocked out cold. Probably to be later interrogated, Gili thought. He shook Thurin awake.
"Ey get up! It's an ambush! They know we here so we gots to get ready to run!" Gili exclaimed. It was certain that Thurin was awake, but too stunned yet to get his bearings. Gili thought also he couldn't run much.. already the poison was stiffening his body, reaching into his heart. He would be overtaken easily. No, he thought, it was clear I wouldn't make it.. but to save the rookie Thurin would mean everything.
"Gili.. ugh.. ok I feel better now. What's going on? Are you ok? Your arm is wretched..." Thurin was absorbing all this information at once. He saw Gili scrambling to take what he could carry, destroy what he could not. The dwarf was sweating heavily, breathing deeply. His arm was severely stabbed. A smell of burned flesh outside. A sound of horses, on gallop, approaching rapidly.
Gili grabbed Thurin. "Don't ask anything boy! Now listen 'ere. You get on what you can take and you run, you get to the outpost. Don't worry 'bout me.. me time has come. It would be best if I could slow them down, we couldn't escape wit the both of us! Now hurry get goin'!"
Thurin wanted to say something but the dwarf had already gone out the front, towards the sound of the horses. He grabbed his supplies and ran. Both their mounts were sheltered just 75 yards behind a large hill, as they would have been too apparent by the small ruin. The squad of Blood-Elves saw Thurin's flight and turned on them. Within momments, half-way to their mounts, Thurin surrounded. Two of the centurions held Thurin. Another, grasping Gili by the leg, had dragged him alongside his horse up to where his squad had captured Thurin. A fourth, inspected the ruins, being overly cautious of traps or a mage after seeing the intense plume of fire off in the distance.
The Centurion Commander who dragged Gili painfully for 40 yards let him rest near Thurin and examined the two. "Ha, look at this disheveled lot.. that midget there don't look too healthy, and this human looks like he could use a new pair of trousers!" The blood-elf taunted, and dismounted. He drew a long polearm and pointed in front of Gili. He pressed it lightly against Gili's uninjured shoulder. "Now, human, you will tell me why you are here, or the agony of your dwarven friend hasn't even come close to what is in store."
Gili spat at the blood-elf. "Ey he won tell ya nothin! We be here on our own accord for a minin' survey! Now get off ye high-horse and leave well be well, we got nothin' to do with it!"
The centurion scowled. The next instant he sighed, and thrust his spear into Gili's shoulder. The dwarf wailed in agony. Thurin thought he shouted "no!" but couldn't tell in his shock.
In the next momment the netherstorm crackled with ferocity. The azure plains ripped with lightning. After half a dozen bolts too close to comfort, the commander yelled for his squad to take cover. In that instant, a bolt of lightning descended and struck him squarely. Almost simultaneously, another torrent of chain lightning inflicted the other elves.
A Draenei appeared, rippling in intensity, the crest of Naaru glowing on her forhead. Her hair as white as lightning, skin as azure as the sky, she made a startling war cry. Nature energies filled Gili and Thurin. Thurin found courage, got up, and drew his sword.
Not to be discouraged, the blood-elves are hardened and seasoned warriors. As such they assumed a defensive position as they observed the fierce woman Draenei. Her eyes glowed of white that sparked in her shoulders and arms and formed electricity at her fingertips. Despite all the discipline they had received, it did not prepare them for this effigy. They feared her. Then soon, they charged her.
In an instant, it was already over. Ignoring their flank, Thurin squarely stabbed a centurion in the ribs. The commander, already severely stricken, had fallen to the Draenei's second attack. She had imbued a small statue with intense fire and calling to the spirits summoned a great elemental of fire which incinerated the blood-elves. The last two still standing were assailed by more lightning and Thurin quickly dispatching them from behind.
The centurion inspecting the ruins had seen this power and quickly got on his mount and fled. The Draenei did not persue and approached Gili. She studied him for several momments. Thurin stood apprehensively, not sure what to do now. He fidgeted for a bit, turned back to the elves to ensure they were not alive, then wiped his blade of blood.
The Draenei spoke, absently and not to or for anyone. "His time has come. The poison has spread too far. My healing cannot prevent his passing." She turned away from Gili toward her white Gryphon she had arrived on and began to walk away.
"Wait!.. ugh.." Gili cried. He had glimpsed her only for an instant, but knew what this meant. The Draenei, although seeming unsympathetic, seemed to share a deeper connection of empathy, to revere the Dwarfs' spirit, to know what will become and was already prepared for it long before any form of sorrow or mourning ever occurred to her.
She walked back to Gili and kneeled before him. Softly and politely she spoke. "Yes?"
"Will.. will I be going to the Hall of the Warrior Kings? Have I been venerated?" Gili asked, steadily.
Her face didn't change in expression, a calculating and precise, unaffected face. "You will not die. Your spirit will live. May the earth take what it must, may the spirits become more whole with your passing. May your blood flow with the ancestors." With this she took his hand and lightly kissed it, symbolically. Then she stood up, walked back to her white Gryphon, and left without saying a word or glancing at Gili or Thurin again.
Thurin watched her fly off, then quickly came to Gili. He held his head and Gili watched him. After a bit, in a last effort of speech, Gili asked, "do ye.. do ye now believe?"
Thurin returned the gaze of sincerity, of courage and content. "Yes. I do now."
Then, Gili closed his eyes.
Anyone who has taken a moment to reflect on life cannot help but be marveled by its' tenacity and strength, challenging the radicals of the world, and the once inhospitable. Take Netherstorm. A steppe sundered and shattered the most dramatically of all Draenor. Yet even still, life lives on. In a place were even a human, a being of minor perception literally shimmers with the air of energy and arcane, who can feel it coursing through their body, enveloping them into an inescapable, encroaching, drowning aura, life thrives. As follows nature, the ingenuity of the humanoid races, driven to madness in some respects find the opportunities and exploits readily.
Gili Rumbleshot looked across the azure plain with a calculated stare. A tracker native to Aerie Peak, knowing the signs of movement is common knowledge. Netherstorm was different. What was once common knowledge was subjected to a changing, near permeable landscape. What a caravan or war patrol could have traversed one moment could soon become a crevasse or literally torn into the air, suspending with the other floating rock like an asteroid field. One thing could be relied on though, is that certain Naaru technologies have allowed for the integrity around mana forges and other areas to remain. This technology was the reason Gili was here. In many ways, it was the reason anyone was here.
Near him was a human male, busily looking over a map, he attempted to make himself busy more of boredom then actual result. They were situated in a Draenei ruin several hundred feet from an unmarked road. Being a forward scout against Kael'Thalas' army was dangerous, but paid well and was a great resume builder.
"Ey Thurin, ye makes the way of that horrid map yet?" Gili glanced over to the human.
"Leave it to rely on a shifty goblin for forward reconnaissance, I tell ya. To even charge for the information was absurd! A toddler could have drew a more accurate map! Ok here is Manaforge Duro.. that's fine and all. How could he mark this road here, it's literally half a kilometer from where we scouted it!"
Thurin was not used to this place. Fresh into Netherstorm not a week longer, most humanoids must get acclimated, like a human in the lowlands of westfall choosing to move to the tops of Dun Morogh and adjusting their breathing to the altitude. At this point the comparison drops. Not only is this a harsh place for your lungs to get used to, the bristling energy can induce panic and anxiety, or for some, an enhanced but more exhausting mind. People notice a marked difference in emotion of those returning from an extended stay in the arcane-infused land. Especially the case of blood-elves, returning from the Netherstorm is markedly like a drug addict suffering from withdrawal.
Gili sighed. "Settle down lad. It takes some whiles to get used to this place. Eh, even after the nether-shakes be done ye may still not like it, nor care for it. I certainly don't that be sure. Ye know all this lightnin' and thunderin' reminded me of an old childhood story, if ye got the ear for it."
Thurin sat down and threw the map aside. "Sure," he replied, not particularly desiring a story but reminding himself that it could calm him down.
"As ye may know, us dwarves aren't tot'ly a religous lot. Nay, we gots a pantheon but thee be of the Titans which seems t'be more real than any deity I know of. Still so say me mother, that the High Father Aman'Thul created the gods of Az'roth to look over the dragonflights and all, at least spirit'ly. If ye could call them gods.. thee be of all-seeing but not exactly all-doing. Except one we knew. It is oft a question of where we be when we die is it not? Where ye go to after ye pass?
He looked to Thurin, half-expecting an answer, then continued. "Well, me mother used to say, that a point of e'vry dwarves life be in'twined wit fate. That fate is a test of their honor that it be. If they pass it they are venerated. Ensured this they be the hall of the great warrior kings in thee afterlife, living with honor and happiness with thee other greats.. right up there with Uther the Lightbringer, the High King Modimus Anvilmar, Redbeards, Bronzebeards, all thee lot. 'Cept no stinkin Dark Iron that for sure! An'way to see this deed be done, the great Valkyries descend from the heavens along bolts of lightnin'. These valkyries be some of the most beautiful, chaste and pure maidens ye will ever see. Ye may think of the grim reaper of human folklore when I say this, but she, the valkyrie, ensures yer safety on the way to thee hall of the warrior kings. She be also protect ye of unnatural death, if it not be the time. It is not something to fear, it is to know you are worthy and ready to have an eternity of happiness."
Thurin listened out of semi-interest. After absorbing it he smirked.
"That sounds like superstitious nonsense." Thurin snorted. "I don't believe in the light or anything of the sort, just some fear control to keep the mass from going into despair. On second thought.." his expression changed, more sincere. "It is nice to want to believe in." He got up and started studying the map again.
Gili frowned and turned again to look down the road. Suddenly a shimmer of light was seen in the distance. It approached rapidly. If he had been home in the Hinterlands, nothing could sneak up on him. But the netherstorm was different, and the fact something had really startled him. Within that instant he heard a commotion behind him. Turning around, he saw Thurin collapse. Trusting his instinct, Gili jumped away in time for a blade to just skim the air in front of him. Amongst the shadows of the Draenei ruin were two fierce green eyes and an outreached arm holding a glowing green dagger. "An infiltrator!" Gili thought. A patrol was upon them.
He got into a defensive stance and remembered the trap he had lain near the front entrance of the ruin. Gili quickly parried the next successive attack with his own dagger that the blood elf made and retreated to the trap. As he backed up while concentrating to avoid the trap, the blood elf made a repeated attack. The warm bite of the blade hit his right shoulder deeply. Just as soon as the rogue lunged did he step on the trap, and became immolated with intense fire. While the infiltrator screamed in pain, Gili scrambled for his pistol and using his injured arm propped against the wall, shot the blood-elf clean in the forehead.
There was no time to clear the elven body with his injured arm. Plus the more he went on, the more Gili became ill, beyond the regular pain his wound had caused. It was clear the blade the infiltrator had used was poisoned. He returned to the inside of the ruin and checked on Thurin. Uninjured, apparently sapped or knocked out cold. Probably to be later interrogated, Gili thought. He shook Thurin awake.
"Ey get up! It's an ambush! They know we here so we gots to get ready to run!" Gili exclaimed. It was certain that Thurin was awake, but too stunned yet to get his bearings. Gili thought also he couldn't run much.. already the poison was stiffening his body, reaching into his heart. He would be overtaken easily. No, he thought, it was clear I wouldn't make it.. but to save the rookie Thurin would mean everything.
"Gili.. ugh.. ok I feel better now. What's going on? Are you ok? Your arm is wretched..." Thurin was absorbing all this information at once. He saw Gili scrambling to take what he could carry, destroy what he could not. The dwarf was sweating heavily, breathing deeply. His arm was severely stabbed. A smell of burned flesh outside. A sound of horses, on gallop, approaching rapidly.
Gili grabbed Thurin. "Don't ask anything boy! Now listen 'ere. You get on what you can take and you run, you get to the outpost. Don't worry 'bout me.. me time has come. It would be best if I could slow them down, we couldn't escape wit the both of us! Now hurry get goin'!"
Thurin wanted to say something but the dwarf had already gone out the front, towards the sound of the horses. He grabbed his supplies and ran. Both their mounts were sheltered just 75 yards behind a large hill, as they would have been too apparent by the small ruin. The squad of Blood-Elves saw Thurin's flight and turned on them. Within momments, half-way to their mounts, Thurin surrounded. Two of the centurions held Thurin. Another, grasping Gili by the leg, had dragged him alongside his horse up to where his squad had captured Thurin. A fourth, inspected the ruins, being overly cautious of traps or a mage after seeing the intense plume of fire off in the distance.
The Centurion Commander who dragged Gili painfully for 40 yards let him rest near Thurin and examined the two. "Ha, look at this disheveled lot.. that midget there don't look too healthy, and this human looks like he could use a new pair of trousers!" The blood-elf taunted, and dismounted. He drew a long polearm and pointed in front of Gili. He pressed it lightly against Gili's uninjured shoulder. "Now, human, you will tell me why you are here, or the agony of your dwarven friend hasn't even come close to what is in store."
Gili spat at the blood-elf. "Ey he won tell ya nothin! We be here on our own accord for a minin' survey! Now get off ye high-horse and leave well be well, we got nothin' to do with it!"
The centurion scowled. The next instant he sighed, and thrust his spear into Gili's shoulder. The dwarf wailed in agony. Thurin thought he shouted "no!" but couldn't tell in his shock.
In the next momment the netherstorm crackled with ferocity. The azure plains ripped with lightning. After half a dozen bolts too close to comfort, the commander yelled for his squad to take cover. In that instant, a bolt of lightning descended and struck him squarely. Almost simultaneously, another torrent of chain lightning inflicted the other elves.
A Draenei appeared, rippling in intensity, the crest of Naaru glowing on her forhead. Her hair as white as lightning, skin as azure as the sky, she made a startling war cry. Nature energies filled Gili and Thurin. Thurin found courage, got up, and drew his sword.
Not to be discouraged, the blood-elves are hardened and seasoned warriors. As such they assumed a defensive position as they observed the fierce woman Draenei. Her eyes glowed of white that sparked in her shoulders and arms and formed electricity at her fingertips. Despite all the discipline they had received, it did not prepare them for this effigy. They feared her. Then soon, they charged her.
In an instant, it was already over. Ignoring their flank, Thurin squarely stabbed a centurion in the ribs. The commander, already severely stricken, had fallen to the Draenei's second attack. She had imbued a small statue with intense fire and calling to the spirits summoned a great elemental of fire which incinerated the blood-elves. The last two still standing were assailed by more lightning and Thurin quickly dispatching them from behind.
The centurion inspecting the ruins had seen this power and quickly got on his mount and fled. The Draenei did not persue and approached Gili. She studied him for several momments. Thurin stood apprehensively, not sure what to do now. He fidgeted for a bit, turned back to the elves to ensure they were not alive, then wiped his blade of blood.
The Draenei spoke, absently and not to or for anyone. "His time has come. The poison has spread too far. My healing cannot prevent his passing." She turned away from Gili toward her white Gryphon she had arrived on and began to walk away.
"Wait!.. ugh.." Gili cried. He had glimpsed her only for an instant, but knew what this meant. The Draenei, although seeming unsympathetic, seemed to share a deeper connection of empathy, to revere the Dwarfs' spirit, to know what will become and was already prepared for it long before any form of sorrow or mourning ever occurred to her.
She walked back to Gili and kneeled before him. Softly and politely she spoke. "Yes?"
"Will.. will I be going to the Hall of the Warrior Kings? Have I been venerated?" Gili asked, steadily.
Her face didn't change in expression, a calculating and precise, unaffected face. "You will not die. Your spirit will live. May the earth take what it must, may the spirits become more whole with your passing. May your blood flow with the ancestors." With this she took his hand and lightly kissed it, symbolically. Then she stood up, walked back to her white Gryphon, and left without saying a word or glancing at Gili or Thurin again.
Thurin watched her fly off, then quickly came to Gili. He held his head and Gili watched him. After a bit, in a last effort of speech, Gili asked, "do ye.. do ye now believe?"
Thurin returned the gaze of sincerity, of courage and content. "Yes. I do now."
Then, Gili closed his eyes.