Tahzani

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  • Birthday 09/17/1990

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  1. Tahzani

    (WR-July) Constructs

    The building was on fire and it was not his fault. He would have been disappointed if he had not been running for his life. An arrow snatching at the hem of his robes made an unnecessary point about the gravity of his situation. " Stand and fight, COWARD!" The sentinel demanded, nocking another arrow and firing it in rapid succession. The shot missed his ear by a matter of inches, causing him to instinctively jerk away in a delayed and thoroughly pointless reflex. Qabian blamed his exhaustion. The smoke in the air was getting worse, his eyes had begun to water and breathing was growing more and more difficult. Perhaps that was why the "legendary" archers were shooting so poorly. A useless byproduct saving his life from an enraged woman. It could have been the exhaustion from the battle or the adrenaline induced hysteria of the chase but the thought caused the magister to start laughing. He was rewarded for his momentary lapse in focus with an armored fist across his cheek. The sentinel had finally caught up to him. Any noise of protest he could have made was silenced as the heel of her boot pressed down painfully upon his ribs, driving the air from his lungs. " You think this is funny?" She demanded as she drew the arrow back and took aim, from such a distance she was not likely to miss. " No, this just reminds me of my career in teaching. Though i'd call it more hilarious than funny." Another chuckle was cut short as the Kal'dorei put more pressure on his aching ribs. "Shut. Up." The woman snarled as she stared down the grinning mage. " Or what? You will shoot me? Hardly a threat after-Hngh!" He let out a pained cough as she pressed down on his ribs again and bared her sharpened teeth. The woman looked as exhausted as he felt. Grime and blood coated the plates of her armor and left uneven splashes across the exposed purple flesh. Now that he had a moment to finally look at his would be executioner, he could see shaking limbs. She was tired, she was hurt, and she was racked with anxiety from the slaughter. " I thought your kind believed in honor! Where is the honor in this?" She snapped at him. It took him a moment to realize she expected an answer. He kept his surprise hidden behind his usual infuriating smirk. He needed time, just a little bit more to catch his breath, and in her anger she had give him exactly that. He did not have the energy to formulate a proper lie or story to stall her. Between the lack of oxygen and the delirious feeling born of a mixture of panic and hope he could barely even think. He would never tell anyone what happened that night but he would continue to blame that for what he blurted out. " Do you believe in the boogeyman too?" He babbled as he saw the string stretch back in preparation. The question earned him a slight reprieve as she drew her boot back enough to allow him to breathe but still keep him pinned. " What?" She demanded. " What are you talking about?" " The Boogeyman. The monster under the bed or in the closet of children. A figment of their imagination created by their fear of the dark." He hissed out as he sucked in a grateful breath of smoke-tinged air. He was not sure what annoyed him more, the straws he grasped for to stall the woman or the fact that it seemed to be working. " No child should fear the dark." She snapped, still trying to puzzle out what the man was talking about. " But they do." He insisted, feeling a familiar tingling as the exhausted reserves began to fill drop by drop. " They use it to explain their own fear because a fear of nothing is ridiculous! It's a faulty construct." His rant was halted as the boot pressed down upon his ribs again, the sentinel controlled the flow of the conversation and she wanted him to know it. " That's what it is to you? Nothing?" " Less than nothing," Qabian confirmed with a wheeze, expending what little air he had left. He fought down a surge of panic as the bow was drawn back another inch in preparation. " Think about it!" He wheezed, hiding his relief when she relaxed a fraction of an inch. " The orcs are the ones shouting it the loudest and what are they? The ones with the most to make up for. If not for this concept what would they have left? Nothing." The end of the statement was barely a whisper as his head began to spin The sentinel eased up on his ribs enough to let him draw in another choking lungful of air which he sucked in greedily and promptly hacked up a globule of dirty saliva. " Nobody wants that they are irrational or horrible. Everyone wants to be right. So what do you do with that much baggage? You make up a code. Make up some justification for why you've done what you've done and pretend that you're not as bad as they say because you have one noble sounding concept to cling to. Honor is easily forgotten but the first thing to be cried out about. It's something you use against them even though YOU don't believe we have it in the first place!" " What's your point?" She snapped. Her ears twitched as one of the support beams let out a groan of warning and a high pitched squeal. " My point is that you are trying to insult me with air. You are trying to hit me with something that does not EXIST save for in the imagination of frightened orcs. Honor is nothing more than a word shouted out by everyone so they can pretend they aren't awful people. The Horde is awful, the alliance is awful, you are awful..." " And you are any better?" She demanded as she drew the bow taught, having reached the end of her patience with the mage's explanation. " I never said that..." He let out a raspy, unsettling laugh as he felt the spell take shape. It was a match compared to a forest fire in terms of what he usually wielded but he had nothing else. "In fact... I am far worse." Even before he had finished the statement, Qabian had begun to move. He pulled his head to the side as he tightened his chest and twisted his body to throw her off balance. The meager energy he had gathered coalesced into little more than a needle of ice, no larger than a toothbrush. As he twisted and she released her shot, the needle found the exposed joint in her armor. The arrow she held pierced the stone with a deafening shriek and a spray of sparks as the metal scraped the rock. His captor let out a shout of pain as the ice pierced her flesh, forcing her to remove the leg from his chest. He scrambled to a standing position as she fell into a seated position and let out a wordless shriek of outrage and drew another arrow The creak of a drawn bowstring was drowned out by the crack of a ceiling beam finally losing its fight with the flame. A fraction of a second was wasted as she looked up in surprise at the buckling ceiling, another fraction was wasted by panic and the torn desire between punishing the blood elf and her own survival, and then time ceased to matter as the flaming debris buried her in a roar of falling wood, flame, and stone. Exhausted by the effort and desperate for clean air, Qabian staggered out of the collapsing building, clutching his mangled and now singed ear. There was no time to even make sure the job was finished. If any of the other sentinels spotted him he was done for. He doubted talking about boogeyman would work on another one. Qabian sucked in a lungful of clean air and adjusted his rumpled robes before removing his hearthstone from his bag. This was one story of many that people would never hear. Saved by the faults in two constructs in one night? Ridiculous!
  2. Tahzani

    ((OOC)) [WR] July - Character Submission

    I will submit Tahzani
  3. Hello everyone! It has been a while since I posted one of these kinds of threads. In the first of its line I asked for your thoughts on if your character was placed as a hero unit in a MoBA or RTS style game, what would they say upon selection and being clicked too much. http://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/23295-the-clickening/ But if there's one thing that any MOBA likes to do, it's go straight for your wallet by making new skins and outfits to put the hero in. Some are as simple as a color swap, others change the outfit completely, and others go so far as to change the visuals of their abilities, their voicelines, or even the backstory. With infinite possibilities for change or creativity i'm interested in what alternate reality your character could come from, or just what you might enjoy seeing them wear in a battle. Old Tahzani: Based on the character Tahzani Tallfisher Grand battles had raged across Azeroth for Millenia, but one uncaring soul with a button put an end to it all in a matter of hours. Tahzani was still young when the first weapon detonated. As Azeroth grew even less inhabitable, the people of Azeroth devolved into primitive, nomadic groups in constant search of the increasingly rare resources needed to survive. Tahzani has survived in the wasteland for decades, his sight taken by the blast and his mind fractured by all he has lost. He now serves as a reminder of the mistakes that lead to the world's end and dispenses wisdom hidden among his inane ramblings. Appearance: Tahzani's form is shriveled and much smaller now. He is hunched over and walks with the aid of a gnarled walking stick. His robes are all-encompassing, tattered and boring with a hood that leaves his eyes covered in shadows. He wears a hefty travel pack with many odds and ends strapped to the bottom and the sides. Game start: Oh what a lovely day... Click: Whodat? Aye? Ah see... Don'touchme! De shadows welcome jah... *Surprised snort* Ah been waitin' fah jah Excessive clicking: Stand still so ah can swat jah! Dis land was beautiful.... Befoah idiots like you! Ah don' have de liquor! Wait who are jah? Deah Loa ah hope jah ain't mah kid... Speak up, jah voice be muffled witcha head so fah up jah ass. Wah... Wah nevah changes Ordered to move: I'll get dere, in time Mah bones... Do ah have to? Is it outta de sun? Yes...YES! Wait, No... *Unintelligible muttering* Loa willin' Ordered to attack: WITNESS! If ah gotta kill jah, say heah please! Lemme show jah how it's done Swing at me!...Bones be powdah anyway TAZDINGO! It be necessary Taunt: Tahzani stands up straight and blows an errant strand of hair away from his face before waving dismissively. " Jah be de hand me downs from a REAL threat." " Ah can heah jah heart beat... An' ah know how ta make dat stop." " Rebuild an' reconcile or die, somehow dat simple idea be above jah." Jokes: Tahzani plants his walking staff into the ground before leaping into a handstand and spinning his legs like a helicopter before falling flat on his back. " Ah still got it! *Oof* Nope..." " Wisdom comes through experience... An' failure." " Does dis still look cool? Not dat paht!" Death: Tahzani falls to his knees and then onto his face. His soul looks down upon his own corpse and makes to strike at his opponent before several others clasp his shoulders and arm. With a resigned sigh, he wanders off with the group and disappears. Respawn: " Not yet errybody. Dey ain't learned." " Makin' me dead? Simple. Makin' me stay dat way? Heh." " Ah remembah...." Upon activating ultimate ability: " TAKE DEY LIGHT!" " Dis be a mercy dat de Loa grant." " You. WILL. SEE!"
  4. Tahzani

    Ill Will (Mature content)

    A taste of what the Loa's gift could do spoke volumes for the effect it would have on its intended target. It refused to be treated, even showing a tenacity that hinted at intelligence as it would strike as one disease, retreat, and return in a new form. His fever ran high for hours, sheeting his form in sweat and chilling him to the bone. Then, the pain left him as if the sickness had simply given up its struggle, leaving him stunned with sheer relief. It gave him just enough time to nurture a brief hope that it was over, only to crush it within an hour. It returned in a new form and plagued his body and mind with a new kind of torture. Night and day lost meaning as he cycled through a list of symptoms seemingly at random. Tormented reality gave way to fever dreams when his body, taxed to its limits and in desperate need of recovery, succumbed to exhaustion. He stood before a river of sludge with a stench that was thick enough to taste. It had an odor that clung to his saliva and made him gag and heave for all the good it did. It reminded him of Venture company operations, but even they had not managed to produce such disgusting runoff. Lengths of cloth stuck to the top of the putrid river but he could not make out the details of them as his eyes swung hazily in and out of focus. When the world resolved itself, he was able to make out the gold and purple thread of one tabard and the matching designs on the others that stuck to the surface of the thick river behind it. The foul river slowly pushed itself along the earth, carrying over a dozen of the Phoenix marked tabards. He felt a moment of Grim pleasure that was quickly chased away by confusion as he saw the growing number of tabards stuck to the disease-ridden sludge. It would have helped him sleep at night to see the head of the self-important group of traitors along with several other vile hypocrites who followed her. But the number of discarded tabards wa far too high for his plan. In each of the tabards he caught a glimpse of their owner. A shudder of rage turned into a quiver of sadistic satisfaction as the first two passed him. Julilee had lectured him about the importance of preserving life, something she accused Lilliana of having no sense of after her betrayal. When he had dismissed her words and told her that she had attacked a pregnant woman, he had not detected a hint of remorse, in fact, he had seen annoyance that he was still pursuing the conversation. The effect her actions had on him were unimportant, she did not care. He bore his teeth in an unkind grin as she was sucked below the surface, buried in the same substance that she was filled with. She was followed by more of them. Syreena's now scarred tormentor smirked cruelly and looked down his nose at him before being swallowed by the river. Shokkra sneered and screamed soundlessly in pointless rage as she was sucked down and drowned. A feeling of grim vindication grew as he saw more of them disappear. The faces kept coming. Vilmah's embarrassed smile was smothered, Mardallius laughed quietly before being covered, Kexti's arrogant smirk was slowly saturated before being coated completely, Siane's warm smile went cold, and the sad expression of the one-eyed troll disappeared quietly beneath the surface. More people passed by him, faces he associated with the tabard but had never spoken to, people he bore no ill will towards save for their association. All were consumed by the muck and disease. The last of the articles to disappear was not a tabard, but a pair of manacles and a stained apron. His own face stared back at him as the manacles clasped around his wrists and the chain leading him began tugging downwards. " It'll fix errytin'." He assured himself as the odious sludge reached up to his chest. He had no reply for his own deluded statement. " She'll love us again!" The imprisoned man cried out at him as it reached up to his neck, desperate to justify his own actions, just like the ones he would be joining. He wanted to scream at the fool of a bartender but could only manage another choked noise as he sank below the muck. The river soon became choked with more discarded items. Shoes, shirts, dresses, trade equipment, swords and more bunched together so thickly he could barely make out the sludge that transported them until they disappeared beneath its surface. Once again, he saw faces, yet they were indistinct and unfocused. There were hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands. Countless faces flickered in front of him as the crowd of plague-ridden people passed by and disappeared. This had been his agreement. A virulent disease to consume his enemy in the worst way possible, but it could not be controlled once released. How many in Sanctuary would be killed in his hope to slay a handful? The price of it left a frozen lump in his stomach, he wanted one person dead, but he could not control the spread once it was released. The reward for this indiscriminate death dealing clasped him on the shoulder and gave him a warm, yet false smile. The Farraki was pleased with him, excited even at the blow dealt to a hated enemy. With one hand she grasped his and gave him an insistent tug to turn his back on the foul carnage wrought, with the other she held a bloody blob of disfigured fat and flesh that defied identification; a mutated freak even in the eyes of parasites and maggots. She spoke words of love and approval that spilled out as a black, oily sludge between her teeth and dribbled down her chin over her body and their son. The letter of her message he had longed to hear, but the soul of it was absent. He doubled over as an overpowering sense of nausea and joy forced its way through him. His veins bulged and threatened to burst as the sickness of body and mind invaded him. He enjoyed it, he was sick and twisted mess of a pretty troll, and he loved it. He toppled forward and sank into the cold, slimy mud by the foul river. The earth consumed the last ray of light and all sense of self disappeared with it.
  5. Tahzani

    Syreena

    " Syreena be a sad story if jah stop screamin' about all de bad she's done. Ah ain't a Grim... Ain't got a desire ta do what she does an' a lotta people say jah eithah gotta be Grim or like de Grim fah her tah warm up. But she likes me, why?" He puts the rag he had been wiping the bar with down and sighs " Because ah treated her like a person. Do dat, an she gonna return jah kindness ten fold. If jah be an elf it be a lot hardah but she got her scars an' trauma same as errybody else. Ah see de trust she puts in me as a sign a what she coulda been. She be hated an' feared because she WAS hated an' feared since she came back. If someone had just been kindah ta her when she first rose would she be as sadistic an' horrible as people say? Makes me tink. Ain't excusin' what she's done, ah undahstand where de path she walkin' on leads. She gonna be how she be until de day her unlife runs out. Be a shame though, because fah all her faults, Syreena be a bettah friend den jah deserve once she decides ta trust jah."
  6. Tahzani

    Julilee Liene

    " Ah could rant, an ah have, about Julilee... But i'll keep it short. She doesn't give a damn about anybody except those willin' ta live undah her banner, an' if jah ain't? Jah get de boot heel." He grimaces and slams a stein down with more force than necessary. " Ah nevah did her any wrong. Ah even helped hers when dey were weak! Soon as she got her forces assembled she didn't even look up while ah was bein' tormented. Nah, she even joined in. She been preaching about Justice since de first day ah met her.. Be notin' but a joke dat wasn't funny de first time."
  7. Tahzani

    Mariz

    " By de time ah was Mariz's age ah was already fightin' fah my village, doin' stupid tings dat ah would regret latah. By comparison, sneakin' outta de orphanage just cause she tired a walkin' de drag be... It be downright adorable." Tahzani folds his arms across the bar and leans against it with a troubled expression. " Ah helped her out, gave her a job ta learn a bit of responsibility, earn a little money an' get de matron off her back so she can do what she really wants ta do, explore. But even seein' her be like a slap in de face. Since we settled in dese lands an' entire generation grown to adulthood. A generation raised in a mixed populace, a generation apaht from tradition an' family. Ah been helpin' Mariz as ah can... An' prayin' she lets me continue ta do so. Let me know dat de world in good hands... Bettah hands den de ones dat shaped what she inheritin'. Still, she a smaht kid. Smaht enough ta disobey an' learn." He grins wryly. " Ah got high hopes fah her... An' hopin' ah can keep mah fat mouth shut ta not drag her down."
  8. Tahzani

    Ill Will (Mature content)

    Warning: Mature content The air out in the Plaguelands was thick enough to taste, a pungent mixture of rotting meat and plantlife amongst a myriad of even less pleasant odors. He shuddered in revulsion and urged his dreadsteed to pick up its pace as he rode through the parched, grassy hills. The path he had chosen was not the easiest but it was less likely to draw attention from the living who had established dominion over the main roads. Even after a decade of warfare, the wilds still belonged to the dead and the diseased. The diseased were the reason that he had come in the first place. When the plague began to spread amongst the humans, the Mossflayer tribe had rejoiced. What group wouldn't be happy to see such misfortune befall a hated enemy? Yet their joy did not last as the very land they sought to reclaim turned into a spoiled prize. As the sickness spread amongst the humans, the land itself became tainted. The desperate need for untainted game drove the tribe into a trap created by the Scourge and their followers, leaving them as another casualty in the developing conflict. The tribe had fallen, but until their dying day they had lived on this doomed soil. If any spirits knew of disease and ruination, it was the trolls who had shuffled off their mortal coil here. For the hundredth time that hour alone he checked the charm he had crafted before beginning his voyage. The knucklebones had been taken from a human corpse and left to soak in a jar; in a cocktail of rotting sludge of plant matter, the venom of the local fauna, and strips of diseased flesh taken from the living dead themselves. He had vomited immediately when the bones had been withdrawn from the muck and even hours later with several layers of leather separating his skin from the stained bone he still felt unclean. It had taken him far too long to realize that that was how he knew it was working. When the charm no longer made him uncomfortable, he was getting further away from the entity he was tracking. A ring of dead trees surrounded a patch of yellowed grass that had been trampled flat with long dead firepit had been dug in the center. Surrounded by bones lying flat on their backs or sides it was easy to guess what had happened. No weapons had been drawn and there were no tracks leading back out of the area. The adventurers had simply gone to sleep, never to wake again. A chill up his spine followed by a wave of nausea left him dizzy. He had arrived at his destination and the momentary relief was soon buried beneath the dread of what came next. He knew not the name of the spirit he wished to bargain with nor did he have a piece of his target; all he had was the charm he used to sense it and what would ultimately be used to contain its blessing. The Amani trolls had a sense of superiority that could not be removed. The spirits here would surely be darkened by the magic that hung over the land like a shroud. His appeal would be blind and filled with guesswork and if that failed he would be at the mercy of the offended spirit. With that sobering thought, he set to work to prepare the area to appeal to the dead. The bones were not cleared from the campsite but repositioned until they were groveling before the firepit. The humiliation of a former enemy would have to be enough to stroke its ego. He withdrew a pair of vials from his pocket, one green and one red. The contents of the green vial were thick and bitter to the point that he had to force his mouth shut and swallow. His body reflexively tried to stop him, a survival instinct against ingesting poison. He would prove he was suffering and unwell, just like the land. He stripped down to his loincloth and reached into the ashes of the firepit. HIs black stained fingers were moist with some unknown filth that had mixed into the ashes. The combination of death and filth was perfect for his means, but it still made his flesh crawl as he painted patterns and symbols in black across his bare chest, arms, and legs. His body became a canvas telling a story of his desire to destroy, the spirit would know this and choose whether or not to make an appearance. He flicked a hand and reignited the firepit with a sickly green flame. Fel was almost universally despised, but the spirits of the land wallowed in sickness and corruption. The magic was merely another form of suffering for them to enjoy. The final piece of his performance came from his pack. Two curved, sickle-like knives with freshly sharpened edges. He held one in each hand, one in a reverse grip, the other in an upright grasp. To mark oneself was to pay tribute, to bleed was to pay tribute. The Loa would see just how far he was willing to go just to draw its attention. He would be damned if he did not make a lasating first impression. There was no need for subtelty. His dance began with a scream of pain as he drew the blade across his shoulder and drew a strip of hide away as easily as one would peel a carrot. The agony did not die with time, it only grew worse as the poison took hold. His veins were growing heavier and itched maddeningly from the inside. Every beat of his heart sent fire through his veins as Syreena's mixture began to spread. His movements were shaky as he high stepped and screamed around the circular clearing. He threw in a spin here and there as he drew the blades across his exposed skin. More bloody lines were dug across his body, more strips of flesh were pulled away and dropped onto the blood moistened earth and speckled the bones. His blood mixed with the filthy ash paint, rendering the symbols difficult to read and meaningless as they ran and smeared across his flesh. It soon became all he could do do stay upright as he throatily wailed a song without words, rhythm, or even meaning. His nonsensical verse was puncuated randomly by shouts of pain as he looked for another unmarred patch of skin to cut open. The flame rose and hissed as he flicked the blood from his blades onto it with violent motions and spins. Unbeknownst to him, the flames had begun to twist and another shadow stretched away from the light. He had practiced the dance and the motions he would take well in advance, but even if he knew the steps it became impossible to follow as his senses became dulled and his body grew weaker. The poison Syreena had given him him left him dizzy and nauseous; he should have expected such a high-quality agent from his friend. He began laughing hysterically as he realized that the one time he would have accepted someone giving him an inferior product was the one time they went above and beyond his requirements, and it was all to hurt him. His steps faltered, his legs wobbled on bones made of jelly, and soon afterwards he crashed to the ground. " Ya try too hard." An amused, wet sounding voice gurgled from behind him. It had worked! Relief washed over him, indistinguishable from the waves of nausea as he struggled to rise. He looked upon the spirit he had called and immediately fell into another fit of dry heaving with his eyes tightly shut. He had seen war, he had seen the dead, he had seen mass graves and mutilation, but the form the spirit had taken was indescribable. His reaction earned another gurgling, wet noise that was nothing short of a violation of what laughter should be. " Well little hexer, ya put on a show to call me an' I be flattered. Now ya can't even look at me? Don't have the stomach ta look upon the dead anymo?" Tahzani forced his head up with sweat stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. The hindrance made the horrid form before him barely tolerable; brown, bloated skin whose surface crawled was all he could make out. He gulped down his bile and spoke with the strongest voice he could manage, " Loa of de Mossflayah. He who embodies this blighted land. I have come to bargain." " As it has been and always will be. Ya honor the traditions calling upon the ancestors... Though ya be far away from home, Revantusk." " Dis land reflects the soul of the one I want exposed." The creature before him let out an intrigued noise and leaned forward, silently commanding him to continue. " She waves her banners and preaches ideals that she forces others to follow, but none of her army does. She be a hypocrite... A tyrant... Irredeemable scum surrounded by filth. I want her to suffer, I want her to scream an' weep, I want her fair features to mirror the rotten core dat i've seen!" " Talkin' about dirty insides, look at yaself. Ah can taste de poison in ya veins, the dirt in ya blood... De taint on jah very SOUL!" It released another gurgling mockery of amusement at the flare of anger that crossed Tahzani's features. " I can do that for ya, but what be in it for me?" The jovial attitude took on an edge of greed and an unspoken threat. If he failed to please this one, the debilitating illness he felt would be a candle to a bonfire. " Ya tribe lay dead or enslaved by de Cult a de Damned an' what remains a de Scourge in dis area. Even as we speak dere be a sect of human holy warriors workin' ta purge de lands of what remains of jah tribe." The amused air that surrounded the plague ridden being disappeared, for a moment he feared he would not get the chance to finish his statement. " Wah be comin'. De Alliance an' de Horde been workin' ta rid dis land a de Legion but it ain't gonna last, it nevah does. An' ah know someone just as eagah as jah ta see Humanity fall. Jah gimme jah blessin', an' de sickness dat brought de Mossflayah such joy can be used against jah enemies once moah. Jah gimme jah blessin' fah dis one elf, an' i'll make suah it gets ta de right people ta be spread amongst de humans. I will give jah vengeance beyond de grave." He could no longer meet the Loa's gaze and his head dropped towards the ground in a gesture of submission. His heart was laboring to beat as the blood rushed in his ears. Every pulse of the organ sent a wave of nausea through his guts and a surge of fresh pain through his blackened veins. " Half for you, half for humanity." The warning was delivered and quickly followed by a violent surge of nausea that sent him to the bloodied mud in a thrashing heap. He vaguely registered his own muffled screaming and the feeling of his heel being brought down upon the brittle skull of one of the begging skeletons. The poison in his veins no longer registered as a cold lump settled in his gut and a feeling of wrongness permeated his very being. The charm found its way to his hands once more; the knucklebones were gone, more accurately they had become part of the liquid. The unnatural, magically induced disease had reduced them to a gelatinous slurry that settled into the bottom of the vial, the amber-brown liquid had become cloudy and threaded with wisps of darker energy that squirmed and wriggled like worms made of smoke. He could taste blood and bile as he reached a violently shaking limb for his bag to grab the antidote. Even as he downed the thick, red liquid he knew that it would only take the edge off of what had become a minor pain. He dropped the empty antidote and reached for his hearthstone. " Get me outta heah..." He whispered hoarsely, invoking the spell. Within moments, he disappeared, leaving behind a sodden, bloodstained, and fel tainted campsite. ***** His skin crawled, cold and slimy in contrast to the burning dryness of his veins and throat. He squirmed on his bed in the grip of a fever dream and pleaded with the unseen as his heels dragged and kicked at the soiled sheets at the foot of the bed. The Forsaken watched him with unease. His wrists and ankles had been strapped down to prevent him from thrashing out of the sweat and blood stained bed. He was covered in maggots that had immediately taken to removing the diseased, dead flesh from around the peeled sections of hide. His wounds were inflicted by tools that had to be wrestled away from the delirious bartender before treatment could even begin. Such wounds were painful but rarely fatal for trolls, but the effects of the wound went far beyond simple bleeding. He had already sent for more maggots as several of the plump white creatures had already curled in on themselves and fallen still. The dead flesh itself seemed cursed. Tahzani's former profession was known to him but he had never witnessed the cost with his own eyes. He had been successful, the tainted trinket was proof of that and had been removed from his person to allow him to recover. Hooked up to tubes and bags of fluid, the pale, dark-veined troll was a sad sight. " Will this solve anything?" He asked the insensate troll. Feeling a dim surge of anger at the carelessness of the hexer. " Will this make either of you happy? ANYONE?" He sighed as the troll released another pathetic whimper and shuddered. The next question pierced the haze of the troll's mind. Everything he had suffered through because of her and for *her*. His ultimate reward for the act was most likely a prison cell for the rest of his days if he was not slain immediately. "Is it worth it?" Selris asked quietly. " No." Tahzani answered with a weak croak. The answer meant for a far broader question than what had been asked. The realization of what he had said sincerely was worse than the pain that left him bedridden for the rest of the night.
  9. Tahzani

    Hallow's End Party (Horde)

    Looking forward to this tomorrow!
  10. Tahzani

    Coldstar Cantina (H)

    ((Due to problems with my schedule I will be unable to run the Cantina tonight and will be running it Sunday, June 4th))
  11. Tahzani

    Coldstar Cantina (H)

    The Coldstar Cantina: Back in business After a long hiatus the Coldstar Cantina is re-opening! Come find us at Wyvern's Tail in Orgrimmar. Now serving on Saturdays at 7:30! In honor of our re-opening, first drink is on the house. Come drink to the Legion's fall and enjoy a variety of liquors and non-alcoholic beverages that put our competitors to shame! When: Saturdays at 7:30 P.M. (Server) Where: Wyvern's tail, Orgrimmar
  12. Tahzani

    The Clickening

    Gunheya Darkhowl: Upon selection: Let me handle this Click: You and me, boss Reading you loud and clear Engineered solutions I'm thinking... Distracted Mhm...? We need longer days, man Excessive clicking: Being green is actually easier than people think. Tryng to focus here, boss. Poke the guy with a doomsday device? Let me know how that works out. EVERYTHING needs a big red button Okay fine, you keep annoying me while I win this fight for you, how's that sound? Frantic beeping You pressed the red one huh? Ordered to move: You got it Orders received Blink and i'm there Fast as I can Zug zug Ordered to attack: Lok'tar! Try surviving this! You get a stab wound and YOU get a stab wound! Lotta good that armor will do Strike them down! Taunt: Gunheya pulls out a device and begins fiddling with it " Let me know when you send someone worth fighting." " I prefer a battle of wits... But you're unarmed." " If you're not gonna make this interesting, i'm not going to pay attention." Joke: Gunheya folds his arms, then begins to float off the ground. He starts flailing his arms as he turns upside down before suddenly falling to the ground. He dusts himself off as he mutters. "I reject your reality and substitute my ow-OW! You win THIS time..." "Natural or civil, a law can be brok-DAMMIT!" " I must go now, my planet needs me." Death: The final blow forces Gunheya to take a step back. Sparks begin spraying from his armor as he looks around in a panic before letting out an agonized shout as arcs of electricity race all over his body and he drops to the ground. Rebirth: " Don't look at me..." " I'm not a damsel in need of saving!" " Calling that a set-back sounds cliche." "Few tweaks and i'm back in, promise!" Upon deploying Bob: Offensively: " Go for the eyes!" " Shred 'em!" " Eliminate the target, Bob!" Defensively: " Block them!" " Roll with the blows!" Support: " i put you back together...Time to return the favor."
  13. Tahzani

    Coldstar Cantina (H)

    (( Due to technical difficulties I will not be around to run the cantina tomorrow. I will work to resolve this issue but until I do I have no computer that can run Warcraft))
  14. Tahzani

    Coldstar Cantina (H)

    The Coldstar Cantina is on the move! The Coldstar Cantina has rarely stayed in one spot long enough to gather dust. Familiarity is comforting but variety is the spice of life! As such, we at Coldstar Merchant Company are happy to announce that the Cantina has begun its road trip across the great continent of Kalimdor! Come find us in Gadgetzan in Tanaris during the month of February! Open Sundays at 6:00 P.M. (Server) Come find us in these locations: Month of March: Steam pools resort, Feralas Month of April: To be announced ((Due to my own work schedule and suggestions from others I am open to the ideas or a possible vote on a new day to run Cantina. PM me if you have a request.))