Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'worgen'.



More search options

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Categories

  • Articles
  • Featured Art
  • Featured RP
  • Guides

Forums

  • In-Character Tales
    • Act One: A Spectre From the Past
  • OOC Storycrafting
    • Act One: A Spectre from the Past
  • Stories And Art
    • Nether Legends
    • The Artist Gallery
    • Character Journals
    • Character Bios
  • WoW Related Discussions Forums
    • RP Guilds/Associations Recruitment
    • RP Events
    • RP Help and Networking
    • WoW Discussions
    • Lore Discussions
  • Other Topics
    • Important! Please Read!
    • Non-WoW Discussions
    • New Member Meet and Greet
    • Suggestions/Bugs
  • Forums
    • Sanctuary General
    • Sanctuary RP
    • Sanctuary PvP
    • Sanctuary PvE
  • Forums
    • GM Discussion
    • GM Resources
    • Storyline Pitch Advice
  • Forums
    • Campaign Background
    • Character Sheets
    • Adventures
  • Forums
  • Discussions
  • On the Outside
    • Storm Tracker
  • Within the Eye
    • Here Be Secrets
  • Call To Arms!
  • Important Reading
    • System Tutorials
  • Public

Calendars

  • Community Calendar
  • Horde Calendar
  • Alliance Calendar

Categories

  • RP Storyline Groups
  • Associations

Found 4 results

  1. Fragments of a Fractured Self

    After several weeks since the death of the King the general morose that had descended on Stormwind was slowly beginning to lift, people were getting back to their lives. The bells rang their melody as the hour struck noon, adding another layer to Hansreim’s perpetual headache of limited resources, shorthanded staff and occasional hangover. Privately he wished he had retired years ago, despite what little good it would have done in light of the newest threat to Azeroth. Reaching for his flask the old Captain took a swig to calm the pounding of his skull and walked out to meet the newest petitioner ot the guardhouse. What he was face with was one of the regulars, hassling one of the younger guards playing at bouncer to the barracks. “Please” The old man was close to begging. “Someone has to have seen him. The portals, he doesn’t like to fly.” Captain Ollie Hansreim dismissed the guard and waived the old man into his office, he had seen desperate men before and in that regard Lucas was no different than many of the petitioners that came to the barracks but it was harder when you knew the man. Ulrich had remembered the former soldier from the days of the second war and while he was never considered tall Lucas Audrapel had been an imposing figure in battle and no doubt may have been a commander if he’d stayed on. Now, his old comrade had lost most of his muscle and was significantly thinner than what may have been considered healthy, his skin had a sickly pallor to it and though they were both the same age the weariness on the man’s face bespoke of someone much older. It was his concern for his friend’s health that made the old soldier’s eyes soften with sympathy. “Lucas, I know this is difficult but have a look around. I’m working with old men and children, last week a cripple came by and I had him patrolling the mage quarter just because we needed the bodies. Most of our regular guardsmen are either still out at war or died at Broken Shore. Even if I did have the men…I can’t exactly go sending troops out all over the kingdom looking for your boy who for all we know has just gone feral.” Lucas Audrapel tightened his lips and removed a torn stained letter from his vest, slapping it down in front of his old comrade. The Captain examined the letter’s quick hurried scrawl as Lucas made his argument. “This was sent a month ago, from Duskwood. It’s not his handwriting, but it is his words. He hasn’t gone feral” It didn’t escape the Captain’s notice that the other man didn’t even try to sit down despite the obvious weariness he possessed. Endless war meant he did not see it often, but prolonged illness was hard to miss on anyone. “This letter says he’s headed to a caravan. Have you checked the Darkmoon Fair?” “I’m not able to travel out that far to look an Susan can’t leave Jacob alone with the kids, especially with the newborn. I need help.” To Captain Hansreim it was more surprising to hear the old soldier admit he needed help than it had been to see a giant dragon land on the gates and breathe fire. “I want to help you Lucas but it’s out of jurisdiction. We can’t use city resources to look for someone whose clearly left the city on his own will, former guardsman or not.” He sighed. “What about SI:7? Missing persons and strange letters, seems like something that would be right up their path if you could convince them.” Lucas shook his head in defeat, finally giving into his weariness and taking the chair opposite the Captain’s desk. “I tried. They don’t investigate missing worgen because it’s a Gilnean matter, the Gilneans won’t look into it because he’s a Stormwind citizen and they don’t have the authority. My son is in a political limbo.” Ollie sighed. He felt for the man, he really did. “Look, Arthur Huwe owes me a favor, let me see if I can pull a few strings over at SI:7 and have them open a case. It might flag some agents to keep an eye out but I can’t promise anything, if he doesn’t want to be found there’s not much anyone can do about it.” The old soldier turned farmer visibly relaxed. “Thank you Ollie.” “Just get some rest.” Captain Ollie Hansreim watched closely as Lucas left, waving over one of the guards to make sure to old man got home safely. He had stopped short of openly admitting his concern for the old soldier but his worry remained. The old Captain reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a small pedal device that had been cobbled together by one of the more enterprising gnomes in the gadget department and pressed down. “Hello babe, I need a favor.”
  2. The Long War of Lost Men

    "I’m no longer the man I used to be. Perhaps one day Shaeya will understand this and know why I left and why she needs to know that my fault is not her own. At the moment I am two sides of a coin, unable to identify to either despite my efforts to do otherwise. When I embrace the wolf I lament that I am no longer a man, when I am a man the beast inside yearns to break free again. For someone who has so much control over her curse I do not believe that Shaeya could ever understand these daily struggles. It has come that I can no longer see myself being comfortable in my own skin again, wishing that this curse had never been brought on me. Stormwind has been calling for additional volunteers to combat the orcs still fighting for footholds in the Highlands and where before I might have remained at home I have now made the decision to sign on. Forgive me Shaeya for not choosing to say goodbye, It would only have been more difficult for us both and you deserve far better than me for a mate. The only certainty I know anymore is fighting." -The journal of Mavis Audrapel It had taken less than an hour for Audrapel to decide he hated flying. It was thje lack of ground that bothered him, the overwhelming stench of fuselage and exhaust making it all worse. “You going to be okay Wolf?” Mavis’ hand went subconsciously to the iron collar around his neck. Before the band had been an indication of his curse, establishing him as the first Worgen allowed to serve in the city guard and singling him out as a beast but with the military it was just easier for identification on the battlefield. The military was practical that way and it became a strange comfort to realize over time that he was just another weapon in the toolbox rather than some cursed monstrosity. He liked his Captain too, all business and little sentiment, though this being a double edged sword it also meant he would get no sympathy that his beast was railing against the discomfort of an airship and the overpowering scent of the fuselage. “Just a little green in the gills Captain. I’ll be fine” There was an audible grunt from his Captain. “You better, this ain’t no walk in the park. All right girls listen up!” The change in tone was a direct signal that it was time to get down to business. “Our priority one mission is to drop down and locate The White Pawn, everything else and everyone else is second down on that list. Captain Taylor’s final message puts the ship’s last known location here!” The Captain’s fist hit ocean squarely between the southern ends of Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms. “Now don’t let those head in the ass cartographers blow any smoke up your ass, our initial scouters located landfall and it’s a hell of a lot more than a piddly ass island you’re seein here so I want you alert and on the lookout for local fauna and vegetation. You get eaten by some drunken god’s walking flower it’s on your head! Second, spotters say we got some fine ass structures looking like a local color so be aware of hostile natives and watch your ass for Horde. We’re dropping you down by parachute so don’t piss it up and pancake! Let’s Move!” His brief foray into the Highlands did little to prepare for the gut-wrenching experience of falling several hundred feet onto solid ground and Audrapel barely remembered to pull his chute out in time before becoming a splatter. The horde had arrived in full force, making it to the new continent at roughly the same time the airship had landed if not sooner and the ground was choked with goblin artillery and orc grunt troops. There was so much green Audrapel caught himself wondering why they even bothered to wear colors at all. He shook off the confusion and dropped down to all fours, bracing against the brief pain of transformation before taking off in full force to his first orc, not even bothering with swords as he brought the full force of his weight down and tore through the throat. He used the corpse to throw at a sawblade before goring two goblins with his claws. Someone had tried to land a bland he tore the arm holding it clean off, beating the orc with it before knocking him down with his other claw. The beast reveled in the violence, this was its territory and now that it had every excuse it unleashed it’s savagery in raw primal fury. He briefly remembered an explosion going off in his face before gutting the enterprising goblin who did it and then Mavis dropped back and let the beast go. “ENOUGH!” The words resounded into his ears and through his skull, the human woke up. He caught a brief glance of a two toned bear walking past him before he became aware of the blood soaking into his fur and the sharp metallic taste of more that had found its way into his mouth. Through blurred vision he saw a ghastly skeletal creature that had started clawing at him and drawing forth the remainder of his awareness he drew his sword for the first time and sunk his sword into the strange ethereal creature. There was blood all around him, bodies of orcs and goblins had been savaged all around him. The beast had been sated.
  3. Worgen Origins/Creation

    IMPORTANT NOTE: Many of these items may or may not change come Cataclysm. The origin of the Gilneas worgen and their connection with the night elves is unknown. Metzen mentioned briefly that they may be from another time. The following is a collaboration of all of the items about Worgen that we know and a possible connection. Scythe of Elune Book of Ur These two were the original mentionings of the Worgen and just how they came to be on Azeroth. The book of Ur mentions that the worgen come from another world. And the Scythe of Elune summons these creatures from a dark world. It is said that the Worgen are in constant battle with the Lords of the Emerald Flame. Speculation has been thrown about as to who the Lords of the Emerald Flame are. They could VERY easily be the Green dragonflight OR the Burning Legion. More on this in a moment. Omen Goldrinn From what was mentioned at Blizzcon, the Worgen have some sort of connection with the Night Elves and Elune. With the information found, the ONLY connections with a wolf like demigod and the Night Elves are both Omen and Goldrinn. Both were present before the War of the Ancients. Both are connected to Elune. Gilneas Worgen Nightbane Worgen Moonrage Worgen Wolfcult Worgen Terrowulf Worgen (Quite possibly the original Worgen from the Scythe of Elune that Velinde summoned to cleanse Felwood. Taking everything above and mish-mashing it up into SOMETHING is both easy and difficult. We could easily just say that things are what they are and go with it. But retcons happen. Things may change. Note: The above quote is SPECULATION! And honestly, it makes the most sense. If the worgen are a creation of Omen, who has gone crazy due to wounds caused by the Burning Legion, it would make sense in both instances that the worgen's enemies are the Lords of the Burning Flame, which could very easily be both the Emerald Nightmare and whatever is corrupting it and the Burning Legion. If Omen IS the origin of the Worgen and the curse that afflicts people because of it, then it fits. But the question remains just what the Scythe of Elune did. Honestly, at this point, I would not doubt that they were pulled from 'another time.' Or possibly, an alternate outcome, an alternate timeline of the War of the Ancients where the Burning Legion took hold or even something from the future. We know from Nozdoromu that there are numerous timelines, and he exists in them and could possibly be the leader of the Infinites in an alternate timeline, but that is another story. So, honestly, after all of this, we are still where we began. Worgen of Gilneas are brought about through a Curse of some sort where as the Scythe of Elune pulled worgen from another world/time period. And they could very well be connected, the Curse that changes humans into Worgen could still be connected to Omen. Which could, in turn, be connected to the Night Elves. [update in progress to go with all the links. Check back in a few minutes for the Edit.]
  4. Thin strands of effervescent violet and orange light filtered through the trees like a million burning spears. Their fading aura doused the serenity of the makeshift camp in a feeling of luminary discomfort. While comforting as the light was not, the flecks of dusk seemed to be the least of a stray travelers concerns were they to stumble on it. Dugouts and shredded tree trunks stood in a menacing circle around a single fire pit, who's flame easily lit the entrance to a small cave. The cave is our point of interest tonight. As Alpha, Rendall had the dominion to invoke 'ownership' on the prime spot of each of the Tribe's grounds. Tonight, it was this dry, musky cave deep in the Silverpine Forests. The cave did not get any friendlier once you were inside. It's walls covered in hunks of dislodged fur and marred with signs of razor sharp nails being made sharper, the floor littered with scraps of meals forgotten and barbaric furs and trinkets of prized kills. Near the back lie in wait a large oval bedchamber, every inch covered in furs and ornamental totems, decorations by the Beta's demand for something resembling civility. Out from behind an outcropping lumbers a tired figure. Drenched in the blackness of the unlit portion of the cave, the heavy black frame of Rendall Blackshear shudders off some invisible chill as he sinks his claw into the soft stone of the cave wall to stretch. "I thought you would be out with the Canis, hunting still." His voice rumbles in his chest slowly, agressively controlled eyes betray a faked sort of calm in his words.