All Activity

This stream auto-updates     

  1. Last week
  2. MONTHLY ROUNDUP - Oct. 2020 MONTHLY WRITING RAFFLE Once a month we host a small writing raffle, just to keep the creative juices flowing! One lucky person each month who submitted a story will be randomly selected to win 5000 gold ingame and be featured here on the front page! To participate, read the prompt below, head over to the Nether Legends part of the forum and start a new topic with ((WR-Month)) before your title and get writing! Please make sure to include at the bottom of your entry the full name (including server!) of the character you would like to have the gold sent to, as well as which faction they belong to. Entries must follow the prompt in some way, be longer than five sentences and follow all the usual rules of the forums. PROMPT FOR OCTOBER 2020: This month, things got a little wonky with the pre-patch for Shadowlands coming out. The original prompt was written with the assumption that the pre-patch content would be sooner, so people would have time to play through it and then react. Since it didn't come out when we thought, we're adding a second prompt for this month, and the prompts will continue into next month, but you will only be eligible for the prize this month if you respond this month! Original prompt: Write a story showing your character's reaction to the news or directly to the events that happen in the pre-patch! (In the interest of people avoiding spoilers, I will not be listing what those events are) New Prompt: For this spoooky month, write a nightmare your character has! Is it a reflection of a memory? Forget their pants on the first day of school? A deep seeded fear? Head over here to get started: https://wow-tng.org/forums/forum/7-nether-legends/ WINNER! SEPT. 2020: The Guardsman by Chestius! Chestius won this month's raffle with an exciting tale of mystery, intrigue and action as a number of slavers meet an untimely end upon a vessel docked in the Stormwind harbor! A few excerpts I enjoyed: ""Well what was it?! Captain, this dastard's not making any sense! I say we throw um into the stockades and properly interro--" the Lieutenant began before he found himself grappled and thrown into the bulkhead, held tightly by the throat. The Captain's eyes glared into his, silence overtaking the moment before he spoke. "Stand. Down. Lieutenant. One more outburst, and the only one getting softened up in the stockades will be you... Understand?" The Captain growled. A subtle nod was all he received as confirmation, but it was enough to release the foolish guard, who quickly fell back into ranks." ""His fear. It's unnatural. We need someone capable of detecting magic, and I'll bet fifty gold we're dealing with one type in particular.." the Captain answered. The years in service granted him no glorious exploits, or powers to behold, however it did grant knowledge of what magic was often used for. Each element had their signs. The elements were the most obvious, however some were more subtle... And atop the list of magics he disliked dealing with sat Shadow. Fear, doubt, confusion, it all fit. The man had been cursed with panic, but not killed outright..." "Fel magic... That one was second on the list of awful magic to deal with.. the guard Captain's strength was sapped, and he was unable to even raise a hand against the revealed crook before him. All he could do was shoot an aged glare. The remaining guards hesitated, however released their weapons and backed away. The room was cleared for now... Aside from the cowering brewer, hostage guard Captain, and the Tracker, who by this time was also down to a knee." Check out The Guardsmen here: https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24760-wr-september-the-guardsmen/ CHARACTER OF THE MONTH Once a month, a character is randomly selected from the Character Bios section of the forums, and featured here. Characters that have not been updated in a very long time will not be included, so be sure to edit and update your characters every once in awhile! SEPT. 2020: RENKA GLITTERSNAP Some fun bits about Renka: "Age: 26 Race: Goblin Gender: Female" "Place of residence: Travels a lot for business, recently acquired a beachfront property in Gadgetzan. Place of Birth: Booty Bay Known Relatives: Sold by bio-parents to her "Auntie" around age 5. Parents identities unknown." "Likes: Travelling, gold, bling, acquiring assets, making new business partners Dislikes: Losing, Manual labour, indecisiveness, fake jewellery/furs/luxuries Favourite Foods: Rare steak (any), never turns down a good barbecue Favourite Drinks: Darkmoon Special Reserve, Steamwheedle Fizzy Spirits, Anything Elven" Check out more about Renka here: https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/23940-renka-glittersnap/
  3. It has been requested that I start saving past writing raffle information/winners, so if you want to reference what prompt people's stories are coming off of, or using any of the old prompts to jumpstart yourself, I'll be posting them in this thread. I don't have as much information from the earlier ones, but the later ones will get their own posts. June, 2018 (winner, Qabian) WINNER: https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/23848-ww-june2018-symposium/ July, 2018 (winner: Brinnea): Everyone has their own 'voice' when writing and a good idea of their character's headspace, but what would it look like if someone else tried to write one of your characters? Do you think you could write someone else's character? For this month, you have two weeks (until the 15th) to submit one of your characters for this exercise, at which point everyone will be randomly assigned a character that is not their own. Everyone will then have to write a short (non-canon) story through the perspective of that character. WINNER: https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/23866-a-chance-for-peace/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/23867-wr-minor-justice/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/23859-they-were-in-the-trees/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/23871-wr-july-constructs/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/23873-july-contest-dead-heroes/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/23868-last-call/ August, 2018 (winner: Tahzani): This month, Battle for Azeroth is being released. For this month's raffle, please tell us a story about your character's journey/first experiences in one of the new zones. WINNER: https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/23888-wr-august-its-a-small-world/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/23884-wr-august-foreboding/ July 2020: The armistice has been signed, the war between the Horde and the Alliance is over--for now. Show us a scene of one of your characters reacting to the news; whether they have a party to celebrate, double down on their quest for vengeance against their enemies, or just breathe a sigh of relief! Congratulations to Amalyn for winning the July Writing Raffle with their story A Bygone Lullaby! It's a beautiful, moody, introspective piece that really shows you where their Priestess Amalyn's head is at. Head over to the website to read it for yourself! And also congratulations to Anterius for getting character of the month for Mardalius Anterius, Battlemage Extrodinaire! I found out Mardalius's favorite colors are purple and silver! WINNER: https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24646-wr-july-a-bygone-lullaby/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24661-tides-before-the-storm/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24648-a-lesser-chieftain/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24649-in-service-of-the-horde/ August 2020: Often times characters are formed in tragedy, and we focus on those events which bend or break characters in new ways; but this month, I want to do something a little different. Give us a story from your character's backstory/history that was something positive that shaped them. A kindness they were paid, an opportunity they found, a friend they made as a few examples (it can be sad, or bittersweet, or any emotion). Congratulations to Draquesha for winning the August Writing Raffle with her adorable baby troll story A Dino-Mite Birthday! Head on over to the website and check it out! Also congratulations to Myaka who has this month's character of the month for Myaka Winterborne! I found out a lot about Myaka's history, and the fact that she's allergic to coconuts! WINNER: https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24710-wr-august-a-dino-mite-birthday/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24711-wr-august-responsibility/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24670-wr-aug-the-cleverest-thieves-in-gilneas/ September 2020: We all love getting into the headspace of our beloved characters, but what do they look like from an outside view? Write a story where your character is a side or supporting character. This can be a theoretical story, in the far flung future, where they are a mentor or an opposition to the next generation of hero (a boruto story to your naruto, if you will), or a story of them now told from an npc/side character's perspective! Congratulations to Banjin for winning the September Writing Raffle with his exciting and mysterious The Guardsmen! Be sure to check it out along with our Character of the Month, Renka Glittersnap! Renka is a very cool goblin with a great piece of art on her character bio that's just amazing. WINNER: https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24760-wr-september-the-guardsmen/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24765-wr-september-nobility-for-dummies-a-crash-course-in-manners/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24758-wr-september-the-elder/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24752-wr-september-the-unanticipated-adventure/ https://wow-tng.org/forums/topic/24749-wr-september-rescuers/
  4. (( Amazing. Response incoming when I have time. ))
  5. ((Goodness, I hope I didn't miss anything while reading up on relevant lore. This game isn't exactly forgiving to multi-year breaks.)) ((Naughty language and probably other things to follow.)) Sabeinne remembered what it was like coming to Dalaran as a young woman, full of hope and fire. It was thrilling to make her own way for once, slumming it with the other hopefuls who wanted to study with the best. Her time as a student left nothing but golden memories of staying up all night, discussing magical theory and experimenting with the psychedelic side-effects of certain spellcasting techniques. And she had slept with a human. Two or three, actually. One of them was really quite talented. Of course, she hadn’t really made her own way, at all. Her future was laid out for her step by step in a crisp unwavering path. You couldn’t have told her that then, or that nepotism was as powerful a force at the University as talent or hard work. She laid claim to every achievement that was laid at her feet as she soared through her classes. Coming back to Dalaran all these years later felt the same, like a sanctuary full of promise. She thrilled at the thrum of arcane energies that seemed to imbue every stone with life. She ignored the skeptical glances that flitted toward the fel-green color of her eyes--fading, now, but still marking her as Horde. She would make her own way here again, she thought, and be free of all the baggage left behind in Silvermoon. She didn’t need Lysimachus, or the generational wealth he had squandered, or titles. Not now, not ever. Sabeinne strode confidently into the Violet Citadel and went directly to the steely-eyed human receptionist who guarded its halls. The receptionist was a bespectacled woman with graying hair, small in stature and further dwarfed by her massive desk of dark, polished wood. “Hello, I’m Sabeinne dej Dynastus, here seeking an assignment.” “An assignment.” The receptionist looked her dead in the eyes, doubtless assessing their hue. “Yes, you know--work.” A bit of disgust crept in as Sabeinne uttered the word, vulgar as it made her feel. The receptionist leaned back in her chair and peered through her eyeglasses skeptically. “And why exactly would you expect to be getting an assignment here?” Sabeinne chuckled. Humans tended to miss the little details. “As I said, I’m Sabeinne dej Dynastus. I’m sure you’ll find that our family is in quite excellent standing with the Kirin Tor.” “I see. Well, I’m not familiar with the name, but let me check the registry.” The receptionist thumped open a massive tome that sat at her desk and held her hand above its pages, which began flipping rapidly. “Dej Dynastus, was it? Ah, here’s something.” She leaned forward to peer at the miniscule text. “I don’t suppose you have any relation to...Lysimachus dej Dynastus, do you?” Sabeinne smiled graciously. “Yes, that’s right. Lysimachus is my brother.” The receptionist gazed drolly up at Sabeinne over the rims of her glasses. “It says here that he was summarily dismissed from any relationship with the Kirin Tor, let’s see...seventy-seven years ago.” A small smile quirked at her mouth. “So I’m not sure exactly what assignments you expect us to have ready for you.” Sabeinne laughed lightly. Humans and details, really. “Well, there must be some mistake. Go check with your supervisor, I’ll wait.” “Madam, this is an enchanted ledger. There are no mistakes.” “Hwell,” Sabeinne huffed. This was not going to plan, but surely it could be salvaged. “Does it give a reason why he was dismissed?” The receptionist peered back at the tiny text. “There’s a code 2, 5, 7 and 9 by his name, so that would be sexual harassment, financial mismanagement, and excessive drug use.” She peered closer. “It looks like there was also an attempted homicide, but that was downgraded to ‘disorderly behavior.’" “God hell,” Sabeinne muttered, pinching her forehead in frustration. What had Lysimachus done this time? She thought she would control her reaction, but then her memory flashed to their last, explosive argument and the anger came bubbling up, hot and viscous like bile. “Helling Lysimachus! Fuck!” She shot a fireball straight into the ground, leaving a scorch mark on the polished tile, and clenched her fists to keep from burning that idiotic huge desk straight to the ground. The human woman blinked at Sabeinne in alarm. “Ah...Madam, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The receptionist glanced quickly behind Sabeinne, who spun around to see two guards approaching. “Oh, I’m well on my way,” Sabeinne snarled over her shoulder. “Your organization is corrupt and your decor is tacky.” She pushed past the guards as she stormed out. “Don’t touch me. God.” So, that was the first blow to Sabeinne’s confidence upon arriving in Dalaran. The next came when she pawned her bracelets in the Underbelly to a suspiciously oily-looking gnome in order to pay for a few nights at the Legerdemain Lounge. And the third came as she sat sipping a glass of wine, alone, in the Legerdemain’s bar, and found herself furtively glancing over the notice board on the wall. Her attention landed on a flyer. ENCHANTER WANTED For part-time work with competitive pay Inquire inside at Simply Enchanting She caught herself considering the flyer, and felt her lip twitch in disgust. Part-time work at an enchanting shop was well beneath her skillset. Surely she would find something more befitting a Marchioness of all helling things. Right now, she just didn’t know what. This uneasy thought kept her awake well past midnight on that first night back in Dalaran, slumming it like a girl in the third-nicest room of the inn.
  6. Kumai had made herself something of a nest in her room in Razor Hill, a garish one, but that leaned more to the pastels than some of Ninorra's other dramatic decorating choices. The orc mage wrapped herself in a plush zhevra-print blanket made out of something unnatural, too soft, with a sheen that caught the flickering lamplight, definitely not actual zhevra, and sat down at her little table with a new sparkling pink quill and a few pieces of lemon scented paper with a floral pattern in the corners to write a letter. - He has forgotten me. It seemed important to tell you. Was it actually him? Was it someone else following me that day around Warsong Hold? I was so sure it was him, but it was so long ago now. Perhaps it is my memory that's faltered and not his. I was content to listen. It's difficult to make that clear with pictures. Just let me listen. I want to see people. I want to see how many of them are actually as bloodthirsty as I was, how many have other priorities in their lives besides dealing death, and what those priorities are. I now understand the warning you gave before teaching me the basics of some of the other Horde languages. I have no qualms listening to people's Orcish conversations that don't include me, but it felt somehow more rude to be able to understand the Taurahe. Why would they have switched to it unless they thought they could only be understood by each other? At least they left before they got explicit. He knew signs. Did you know he knows signs? Mostly he knew signs. He put in the effort, and his mistakes were a sweet sign of just how much effort he was making. I think he's the first person I've encountered who already knew them, but then I don't usually introduce myself with them. I try not to introduce myself at all, or use the ash if I'm pressed, but he was looming. He's intimidating when he's standing and you're sitting. I've taken pieces of the decor from other rooms around here. I'm not sure if anyone will notice. The only people I see lurking the hallways much are Garinth and Vilmah, and the occasional visitor at Vilmah's office door. After so long in Dalaran, it's strange to be back to seeing mostly orcs day to day. He said my tabard would get me killed. You made that clear from the start and I made this decision anyway. If it does, it does. I don't think it will, though, or they would have been wiped out long ago. They are as persistent as yours. I do not think they are easily discouraged, no matter how intimidating and serious the person threatening them may be, so I will try to be as they are. Persistent. I am more concerned this tabard will get you killed, but if he has actually forgotten me, you may be in the clear. Everyone else who was there that day has succumbed to the shadows. I hope you are well. I suspect that much like me you are trying not to draw too much attention to yourself now. We have plans to make before we step into the light. We have comfort to find, nests to build, towers to hide before the pendulum makes its next swing. I would say I miss you, but I don't really. I am fine on my own, but I do wish you well. I know your heart better than most, and though you are going to do a lot of damage before you give in, someday you will understand this choice. Someday something will happen that will make you change. You will hate it, and then you will be different. Just like I am. ~K
  7. Earlier
  8. See the official wow forums post for details. https://us.forums.blizzard.com/en/wow/t/explorers-guild-recruiting/666300
  9. A whirl here, a rush of movement there, it was a bloody dance she had learned to appreciate. Swing, counter-balance, square up, drive the point home. Their forces broke upon the manor like a wave upon the crumbling sandcastle. When one spends enough time studying a building, one truly learns it. Not in the form of blueprints and plans, and not just walking up and down the hallways, but hammering and picking stone and laying foundations. And Pelande Aijatar had been given plenty of time to learn in those long, long passing millennia. She could likely navigate any one of the manor-houses she had worked on during her career with her eyes blindfolded and not bump into a single wall or doorframe. Soon enough, faster fighters were getting ahead of her, clearing the way so that her spear had fewer and fewer targets. The cornered guard were no match whatsoever for the zealous fire in the hearts of their attackers and it showed in their back-steps and hesitations. But Pelande knew the most efficient way to the roof was far from the most obvious one and separated herself from the herd, steering her way toward a narrow spiral staircase that seemingly had no end Up, and up. The roof of this building was a massive private garden area, and that’s where they found the rest of the building’s occupants--nobles, but not helpless ones, ready to defend their property with their lives. Not that they had much choice, Pelande mused. Tonight these parasites were getting a much-needed purge. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar figure, though little more than a streak of speed… and yet somehow her mind registered the woman’s wink as she threw herself right into the fight. Behind her came the rest of the insurrectionist army they had spent the passing month building. It was almost admirable how long the nobles managed to hold out. Backing up into a tight knot their magic stayed strong against the blows until the rest of the pack made it to the roof. Blade, Glaive and arrows alike bounced off the barrier-- that was until an orb of Arcane energy formed within their protective area. A set of demonic claws reached forth and severed the head of the lead mage who kept the barrier in play from its shoulders. What resulted was nothing short of a bloodbath now that the stalemate had ended. “Excellent work.” The hellish form shifted back into the visage of their Commander, “All of you. Illidari, use their souls as fuel to establish our Felhammer link. M, follow their lead. I want our reinforcements ready for deployment should our Fre--” An explosive maelstrom of brilliant red light burned through the entirety of the night sky above them. “Change of plans! Illidari, with me! We have no time to waste! Ebonfeathers, make your way to the Nighthold.” With orders issued, the Commander leaped from the building. The Illidari followed, each form traveling with wings not dissimilar to their foes of their enemy. Leaving the Nightborne to process the last minute or so by themselves. “Now what?” “...I guess we make our way to the Nighthold.”
  10. Saphiara

    Saphiara

    ((Bio updated for BfA/Shadowlands))
  11. Full Name: Bronwen McGreynor Nicknames: Brownie, Red Age: Around 30? perhaps a year or few younger. Race: Human Gender: Woman Hair: Dark Red Skin: Quite pale, but not sickly Eyes: Forest Green Height: The tall side of average Body Type: Lithe Place of residence: Currently Ironforge Place of Birth: Stormwind, or close to it. Known Relatives: None living that she knows of. Religion/Philosophy: Look out for yourself because no one else is going to. Occupation: Former SI:7, basically an assassin merc living off her savings now. Group/Guild affiliation: None known currently Likes: Uh, does she even like anything? She seems to like cats. Favorite Foods: Dried fruits and meats. Easy to carry, won’t go bad too quickly. Favorite Drinks: Nothing too strong, but she has no preference whether it’s booze or water. Favorite Colors: Any dark and earthy colors. Hobbies: Modifying her own armor. Tinkering. Special Abilities: She is very proud of how great at lying and petty thievery she is. Weapons of Choice: She’s great with daggers, though she’s learning to get good with rifles. Dislikes: She dislikes the ruling class and the military. She dislikes nobles. She hates undead of any type, even those among the Alliance though she’ll be civil with them. She trusts neither paladins nor warlocks. Physical Features: Bronwen has some serious RBF. She constantly looks entirely pissed, even if she very clearly isn’t otherwise (someone could tell if in conversation, for example). Her red hair is cut rather short, and freckles dot her face mostly concentrated across her nose and cheekbones. She's quite thin, bordering somewhere near the neighborhood of not-eating-enough thin and too-many-drugs thin, but she looks a little too healthy for it to solidly be one of those, if that makes sense. Two deep scars cut down the left side of her face near the ear from temple to jaw, one of the claw marks being twice as long as the one in front of it. She’s also very often seen with a dark leather sling secured at her right shoulder that crosses her body and helps to support her left arm at the elbow. It’s mostly just for basic support for her left shoulder, as the arm itself generally doesn’t look unusable. Positive Personality Traits: If she has any sort of a sense of obligation to someone, she’ll be very strictly loyal to them until either the obligation is fulfilled or the person does something to break their bond (if it could be called that). She’s very selfless, generous and altruistic, but only when it comes to people that have very little. Negative Personality Traits: She trusts no one, or rather it takes a very long time to earn her trust. She’s very quick to bail on people if she doesn’t feel she holds any sort of obligation to them, even in pretty serious circumstances. She’s very mean at times and often for no apparent reason. Misc. Quirks: She is always sharply aware of her surroundings, but if she’s outside on clear nights her immediate attention is fixed on the stars. She seems extremely uncomfortable near Stormwind’s cathedral, or any other chapel or abbey, but she’ll sometimes loiter outside of one while deep in thought for a time before leaving. She doesn’t typically go inside without a real reason. History and Hooks!: Bronwen was made an orphan when her Defias parents got wrecked by some band of Stormwind’s forces near the border of Westfall. She’s the spitting image of her mother and might be vaguely recognizable by someone that would have been familiar with the Brotherhood in the time following their uprising. Her mother wasn’t very important to the Defias as a whole, but she was quite charismatic and popular in some circles. She was cared for by an orphanage for a short time before being left to fend for herself on the streets, and became quite good at stealing what she needed to survive. Thanks to her crimey origins, she idolized the Defias remnants and whatever criminals she’d come to meet in the city. Stealing to survive eventually became stealing for pay, and then stealing for those rich enough that they didn’t want to bother going into increasingly dangerous situations themselves. Stealing became killing, and killing earned her higher-paying jobs and a lowly but relatively comfortable position in SI:7. She was once married to an Alliance sergeant that perished in Northrend thanks to a scourge ambush, and he nearly took her along with him. Her idealism waned completely and she became the cold, obstinate, and angry person she still is now. Since her experiences in Northrend, she has focused on killing any undead she came across, Forsaken or not. The Horde as a whole were always a large target in her sights, and she never needed any justification for fighting them past a. they are enemies of the Alliance and b. they maintain the undead among their ranks. She continued to fight for SI:7 until she was betrayed in Uldum. A trusted operative she had been partnered with many times throughout the years exposed her to a large group of Aqir they were monitoring, leaving Bronwen and her nightsaber companion that she was gifted during her marriage to fight a losing battle. Kyris died, but the most bitter of luck saw her eventually rescued by a dwarf woman that lived in the desert. Bronwen was assumed dead, and several factors of her attempted murder and sudden disintegration of her life back in Stormwind told her that specific people wanted her out of the picture. So now she keeps her head down and while she recovers lets them think she’s dead. Easy! Theme Songs: Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7cCtX8LJth5mV3rt7rTLCv?si=AWhd60jPTmWwH2Ey27wuWA Bronwen and also chibi stabby Bronwen both by https://twitter.com/cryptid_artist
  12. Brick Aneirin Howe was never one for his studies, a fact that his mother Meirwen knew all too well as she continued to drill him on which spoon to use and when. She pinched at the bridge of her nose as she listened to her son's latest explanation of why some part of him was bruised, battered, or broken. Sometimes it were all three at the same time because, instead of the little nobleman she were trying to raise, she'd ended up with a little monster. A monster she loved, but a monster nonetheless. "I was runnin' wif that kid from down the street, Mam! You know the one, 'e's got the really big, poofy 'air loike you and we was runnin' to see 'oo was faster when I tripped on the cobbly stones and went slidin'. 'e got to the end of the street before me, but 'e chea'ed because I fell over. So, we's gonna go again anovver day." He holds up a skinned elbow proudly, red and raw from the small rocks he'd run over on the road. He flashed her a grin (that was too big, one of those childlike smiles that lit up his entire face, because it took up the entirety of it), several of his baby teeth missing. As the boy went on, she watched while he took one of the spoons and placed it on his crooked nose, holding his hands out proudly, and showing her just how small of a spoon he could manage to keep from falling. One of the spoons finally went clattering to the table below him, unable to hold on much longer and seeking sweet freedom away from the young boy. The boy picked it up, crinkling up his nose as he placed the spoon back. His eyes crossed as he kept a careful watch on the spoon. Meirwen snatched the spoon away, setting it back down onto the table with a sigh. Meirwen nodded in the direction of the room they shared, unable to keep the smile off of her face. As much as she wanted these lessons to go well, she had almost as little idea of what she were doing as the boy she were trying to teach. The room was... cozy, to say the least, almost too small for the two of them to share. The walls were bare, save for a framed finger painting of a fish that the boy had made at school. Most of the walls in their home were the same. A few small pieces of artwork (never very good, all things considered) set against an old, bare wall. But while they weren't swimming in money, Meirwen had made a point to decorate with whatever she could. The window had a set of tasteful yet worn curtains that helped keep out the light in the mornings, the bed had a large, woven quilt. Their house was a home, damn it! She pointed at the bed as an invitation to sit as she pulled out a small tin from within their broken, shared wardrobe. Once filled with festive, holiday cookies from Winter's Veil past, the tin now housed buttons, string, and needles. The wrong tin. Meirwen sets it back with a purse of her lips, grabbing a near identical one. Near identical in that it were the same tin, but with a dent in the side, and filled to the brim with bandages and what little medicine they could scrape together. There would have been more if the little monster didn't get hurt every other day. "Lambkin," she finally says, a glimmer of playfulness in her eyes, as she begins cleaning the injury with what little alcohol they had. "You 'ave to be more careful, we's runnin' out of the good stuff to patch you up. You can't beat no neighbor boys if you's so clumsy. 'ow're you gonna be a lil noble lad if you can't even use the two feet I gave you?" She pokes him in the nose, knowing full well that this scheme to teach him to be noble was all for naught. But it was at least a fun little way to bond with her son. "Why're you teachin' me to be one of them stuffy nobles anyway, Mam? Not loike we's one of them." He shrugs his little shoulders, a pout upon his face. "Why I gotta act loike somefin' I'm not?" "Because you is one," she says simply, eyes softening as he winced away from her touch. She takes one of the last few strips of bandage from their little tin of medical(?) supplies and wraps his arm with it. "Because your da's noble." "But 'e's not 'ere!" And now it were Meirwen's turn to recoil, that had stung. Defiant. Stubborn. Too aware for his own good. "Why I gotta be loike 'im? Why can't I be loike you?" Because being like him is better for you, she wanted to say. Because being like me means struggling. But she couldn't say that. She placed her hands upon his shoulders, looking into his warm, brown eyes. But what could she say? She struggled with her words when the little boy spoke up again. "I loike you be'er than 'im, anyway." She laughed. She couldn't help it. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't stay serious any longer. She never was good at being serious. "Obviously, it's so you can infiltrate their ranks and become one of them," she says with another chuckle. "Don't you wanna know wot it's loike on the ovver soide of the 'ills? Come on, I can show you 'ow to talk loike one of them and you can show off for all your lil friends. Wif the funny voices, ye? The ones you loike so much? I'll put a pot of tea on and we can make fun of them togevver." Meirwen watched as Brick's little face lit up, like a thousand lights had been turned on. Tea? Funny voices? Silly words? That was everything to him. That was why he loved her so much! He seemed to move on past their little conversation quickly, kicking off of the bed and following after her towards their meager kitchen. Kitchen? Was it really a kitchen? Or was it more of a kitchenette? It could barely fit the both of them, with a small countertop and a few overhanging shelves that they struggled to fill with much. An old, dented tea kettle is set over a fire as the two take their seats at the worn, round table that served as dining space, living space, guest space, and everything else under the sun. The woman looks across the table at her son as a smirk played upon her lips. She holds up several of the spoons from earlier: large and small, long and short. All from different sets that she had managed to sneak away during her time as a servant in various noble homes. It was her dirty secret: spoon thief. Her voice changes, from whatever potato mouthed, street talk they usually frequented into something half resembling the sounds she had heard while working. "So, which of these spoons do you think I can hold on my nose the longest?"
  13. Location: A small transport vessel just off shore of Stormwind’s Docks. Time of day: Early Afternoon The early afternoon bid farewell to a small mooring incident in Stormwind’s docks. A transport ship now sat anchored awkwardly away from the dock itself, accosted by rowboats for the Stormwind Guard. "I swear it's true! I saw it wit me own eyes!" A ragged Victim of a man howled as he was throttled by a guard. The angered man in lighter armor was only made more agitated by the crying of the lowlife he was holding up against the bulkhead. "Listen here, dock rat! Three of my best men were killed by this creature, and you mean to tell me that we amidst the Stormwind Guard should just let it go on your account?!" The guard shouted back, tossing the panicked man back and drawing his blade, only to be stopped as more guardsmen approached. "Stand down! This man is a victim, not the culprit, Lieutenant!" Barked an older man, forcing the angered guardsman to heel. A veteran guard captain stepped forward. Accompanying him, a rather vicious looking worgen. The Captain was a human, and on in the years with a head of sheet white hair, matching his full beard. He approached the cowering man and knelt before him. "Your word checks out, son. We searched the ship, and found the remains of a Prisoner Trafficking Operation... However, we didn't find a sign of life beyond any of you in the brig. Our tracker here says there's the scent of many people, but no trail leading out of the boat.. Tell me, what happened to your captors?" The older guard gently commanded. The panicked man calmed some, the words of the collected veteran putting his mind away from panic. However, fear still very much addled him, along with an ominous energy that set in his mind before rescuers arrived... "There was... Somethin.. on the ship. Most o' us in chains were stuck below decks... But I was workin, cleanin the upper decks I was... They said we was jus' stopping 'ere fer a quick resupply b'fore we sailed south.. err I think that's what the cap'n was sayin." The man stammered and shook as he spoke, flinching when the Captain questioned him. "And your relation to the crew here? If these men were selling prisoners as slaves, why did you have it so easy?" The Captain asked. The man stopped moving for a moment, looking up at the veteran guard for a few moments before speaking again. "....I... I'm a brewer... Sir... Was doin time in Tol'Dagor fer some trouble me business ran inte.... But when I was to be transferred te Stormwind fer re-trial, these dastards picked me out an' told me I was workin fer them cleanin decks and brewin booze... I reckon they'd have killed me if I refused... So I... I worked..." The man explained, recalling his role onboard a small vessel in the harbor. However his tone grew shaky, fearful, panicked... The Captain studied the man's reaction, and spoke up, trying to keep the fearful Victim focused. "I’m not here to send you to the stockades, lad. I want to know where the rest of the crew here went. Tell me, what happened?" He gently commanded once more. "I was cleanin' the decks. They had one of those dastards watchin me around the cages... He told me the go up a deck and refill his tankard, so I started walkin.. but... But when I approached the galley... Somethin was off.... The galley be empty... An' I found nutin but clothes strewn 'bout it... I was bout te tap the keg when me body stopped movin... It was....cold... So cold... B'fore I knew it, I was on the ground.... Somethin was lookin at me... It asked me questions..." The man explained as his tone once more returned to shaking. He pulled himself into a ball, eyes wide with tears as his words and tone once more embraced fear. "It asked me what the crew looked like compared to prisoners... I told um, we slaves was all wearin' the same shackles.... Oh Light... Im the reason they're all dead... I--" He began to stammer before the Captain interrupted him. "Focus. What was asking you this? What was this creature?" The Captain asked, trying to redirect the man's focus from the increasingly tense atmosphere amidst the other guards. "It... It was small... Real small... Bout the size o' a dog… looked like one too... But standin up... It was dark...fluffy, wit big ears... Red eyes.... No... They was purple... I think..." He began once more before cowering at the interruption. "Well what was it?! Captain, this dastard's not making any sense! I say we throw um into the stockades and properly interro--" the Lieutenant began before he found himself grappled and thrown into the bulkhead, held tightly by the throat. The Captain's eyes glared into his, silence overtaking the moment before he spoke. "Stand. Down. Lieutenant. One more outburst, and the only one getting softened up in the stockades will be you... Understand?" The Captain growled. A subtle nod was all he received as confirmation, but it was enough to release the foolish guard, who quickly fell back into ranks. "It was a Vulpera..." Came the gravelly voice of the worgen tracker. While questions were being asked, he continuously sniffed the air, looking around the empty ship. "The scent is hidden expertly... But with that description I'm almost certain." He added, before his and the Captain's gaze returned to the cowering man. "What did this creature do after you answered it?" The Captain once more requested. "It told me te stay down. So I did... But.. when the guard came up the stairs te yell at me fer takin too long, I saw it... I saw what it did..." The man started before breaking down into a panic. Rocking back and forth, his eyes were washed over with fear, almost unnaturally so... "It leapt outta the man's shadow.. an’ b'fore he could do a thing he was dead.... And then.... He.. turned te dust.. they all did.. everyone attached to the crew was killed one by one... An' all I could do was watch.." the man pressed his nerves to finish an explanation, but broke down in the end, sobbing and sniffling. The tracker looked about as annoyed as the rest of the guards dealing with this witness... But the Captain continued studying the man. They were absolutely cowering, as if afflicted by a spell... "Fetch a priest." The Captain commanded. "We got no word of any Vulpera on this ship, and no other victims say they saw anything like this." He added. "What would a priest be able to do?" Asked one of the younger guardsmen. "His fear. It's unnatural. We need someone capable of detecting magic, and I'll bet fifty gold we're dealing with one type in particular.." the Captain answered. The years in service granted him no glorious exploits, or powers to behold, however it did grant knowledge of what magic was often used for. Each element had their signs. The elements were the most obvious, however some were more subtle... And atop the list of magics he disliked dealing with sat Shadow. Fear, doubt, confusion, it all fit. The man had been cursed with panic, but not killed outright... "But what of the guards?! My men personally patrolled the docks and searched this ship!" The Lieutenant once more piped up. The rest of the guards readied for the Captain to fulfill his promise of throttling the man, however it wouldn't come. "Idunno! I swear idunno!! I passed out after i saw it dust the crew and woke up wit swords te me neck!" The man panicked. "Tracker. How many guardsmen patrolled this ship?" The Captain asked. "Three of them. Their armors were found in the captain's quarters along with the remains of the crew's leadership. No signs of combat." The Tracker replied. The Lieutenant stopped as he received a blunt look from the Captain, who stood between him and the victim, a hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "Lieutenant.. How do we conduct our ship searches here in the docks?" The Captain asked pointedly. "P-parties of five. Unless undermanned, as we are now. I was confident a party of three could handle a small trade ship search." The Lieutenant replied. "Ah yes. But it would appear the ship was searched before it made it to the dock… There were no signs of conflict, leaving your men dead in the room with this ship’s captain..." The Captain asked once more. “What are you insinuating?” The Lieutenant hissed in reply. Glaring back at the Captain in turn. The room went tense, the Lieutenant went silent, as he and the Captain glared each other down. Tracker, as he was called stepped back before getting addressed once more. "Tracker. You searched the remains for evidence. Tell me.. What did you find on the bodies of Stormwind's Finest in the captain's quarters?" The Captain asked once more, his gaze locked on the now on edge Lieutenant... "Each guard had their coinpurse and belongings, but also a satchel with five hundred gold pieces, Captain." The Tracker replied once more. And with that, the Captain drew his blade. "Care to tell me what your squad was doing with their holiday bonus so early, Lieutenant?" The Captain asked as he drew his blade, moving towards the Lieutenant, however his footfalls fell short, his blade turned heavy, along with his shield. Where there was strength, a moment later it began to melt away... The Tracker appeared affected as well, and the scene of the Captain falling to a knee sent the remaining guards into alert! Drawing swords and hammers, they turned to the Lieutenant, who by now had merely raised a hand to his Captain... "You arrived so quickly, Captain, I had no time to prepare a villain for you... If any of you want your Captain leaving this ship you'll do as I say! Drop your weapons, and leave!" The Lieutenant commanded as a wisp of energy flashed around his raised hand. A faint link of energy bound the Captain's weakened body to his... Fel magic... That one was second on the list of awful magic to deal with.. the guard Captain's strength was sapped, and he was unable to even raise a hand against the revealed crook before him. All he could do was shoot an aged glare. The remaining guards hesitated, however released their weapons and backed away. The room was cleared for now... Aside from the cowering brewer, hostage guard Captain, and the Tracker, who by this time was also down to a knee. "You too! Get out of here, worgen!" The Lieutenant commanded, still sapping the strength from his former Captain.. however, the Tracker gave no reply.. "I SAID MOVE! HEY!" He shouted, taking a step towards the worgen. A thud was heard as the Tracker hit the floor.. His lack of response was not defiance, but rather exhaustion... Something else had afflicted them, harmlessly knocking out the hardened Tracker. The look of surprise in the Lieutenant's eyes was enough for the Captain to realize the gravity of their situation. He struggled to remain upright, staring up at the warlock's confusion as the Tracker fell. He obviously had no idea of what was happening. Pushing himself, the Captain spared a look back at the Victim to find him sprawled out on the ground, breathing, but unconscious, just like the Tracker. Both of his worst dealings were here, within the same ship. However the Lieutenant had no realization of this.. He barked at the Tracker to get up, then at the Victim, then turned his gaze back to the Captain.. "What is the meaning of this?! Tell me now!" He commanded, gripping his hand, sending a pulse of pain into the Captain's body. The agony nearly made the veteran faint, however, he held his defiant gaze on the corrupted guard. Even if he explained what was happening, there was ill enough time to stop it… It was already here when they arrived… It was what killed the guards, the crew, and everyone attached to a criminal ring… It left calling card, granting innocents the mercy of sleep, but death to those it hunted… This creature was here, in the room, and had been working the entire time to close in on its prey… Looking back, the signs were obvious... the Lieutenant’s shadow had thickened as he approached the worgen. Little by little, the air began to chill as he held the Captain prisoner. By the time he commanded everyone off the deck, a sense of dread had kicked in, and even the guardsmen rookies had been affected. They were likely upstairs either dead or unconscious as the Tracker and the Victim were now... As the Lieutenant reached for the Captain's throat, realization finally hit him.. He stopped, his focus breaking, the spell fading from the Captain as the warlock began to look around. The room was... darker... Light from the windows faded, and at this point candlelight was becoming more of a necessity... The Lieutenant whipped his eyes around as he stepped away from the Captain. He opened his mouth to speak. "What is--" was all he could manage before he was cut off by the entity haunting the room... It was instantaneous... As the corrupt guard opened his mouth to speak, from his swelled shadow burst a small, blackened creature! Like an animal lunging at prey, the visage of a wolf-like creature collided with the Lieutenant’s upper torso, enveloping him in a blackened aura from the shoulders up! Not a sound was heard from the strike as the visage hit and passed through the Lieutenant, fading away after a moment to reveal the damage! A clean cut, starting from just under his right shoulder, all the way across to the top of his left collarbone. A blackened mist wafted from the wound before the Lieutenant’s body split, and began to fall in two pieces. Skin turned black as a pulse of shadow energy wreaked havoc across his body! As he toppled over in sections, flesh and bone would waste away into a blackened ash which littered the air only for a moment before disappearing! The sound of the Lieutenant’s armor hitting the deck was all the was heard after the strike... The Captain coughed up a small amount of blood, holding himself upright as his eyes desperately scanned the room.. There, just behind where the traitorous warlock stood before his swift demise, was a Vulpera cloaked in shadows. The shadow-enveloped image of the small creature stared into the Captain's eyes as silence once more commanded the room. "...Targets...Eliminated..." Came a darkened, multi-toned voice, seemingly from multiple directions. Though ears would deceive him, the Captain knew what this was... as he fell to his side, the veteran guard Captain breathed shakily, now stuck in the room with his eyes locked in the gaze of the very predator that eliminated an entire gang of traitors and thieves... Him and the Tracker could easily have been next... But as light began to return to the deck, the Captain's eyes grew heavy.. he needed to blink... Just once... However as his eyes tried to reopen... They failed to muster the strength... and like that, the Captain fell to the deck, unconscious, granted the mercy of sleep he feared would be denied... "Quickly! There's survivors on this deck!!! Where's the Priest?! Get him in here, now!" Panic burst forward as the rookie guardsmen were the first to awaken. Their last clear memories being of the guard captain telling them to fetch a priest before questioning the Leuitenant, who was nowhere to be found. A high alert platoon of rookie guardsmen re-entered the ship with weapons drawn to find a set of armor, cut clear across the upper torso, and an unconscious trio. The Tracker, the Captain, and the Victim were brought to the ward immediately, unharmed, but unable to wake for some time. The Haunt that evaded their eyes was a professional assassin for certain, but much else of any detailed information gained by the stalwart Captain was lost amidst his sleep. Whatever snuck onboard that ship was hunting the very rats that infested the docks, fortunately enough for the rest, their interference was forgiven. The Tracker appeared to be the most befuddled, only remembering searching the ship before blacking out. "Your report, Captain. You claim you saw a Vulpera before you lost consciousness. Did you see any Horde insignia by chance?" Asked one Major to the recovering Captain. "None.. I was only awake long enough to see it strike my former Lieutenant down." The Captain replied. "Even after the Legion's defeat, fel is still a nasty problem." The Major replied, sighing as he sat at the bed the Captain lay in. "I fear for it." The Captain answered. "For what?" The Major asked, slightly confused by the sudden empathy. "That Vulpera waited under the noses of Stormwind's Guards, a veteran tracker, a crew of thieves and slavers, and a platoon of my finest recruits. By the time any of us realized, it was far too late... I fear for whatever it's hunting... But for now... I'm just glad it wasn't me or any of my loyal men this day..." The Captain answered, his tone chilled still from the incident. The Major sighed, nodded, and patted the bed. "Considering those harmed were all proven to be in allegiance with a group of criminals, we can rule that this was no attack from the Horde on our city.. however many will have questions." The Major replied. "Send them to me, then. I am certain whatever this creature was, its only crime was acting out as a vigilante." The Captain replied. "You're gonna need a big vacation after everyone else is done with you." The Major half joked, before the Captain answered him. "I plan to take one.."
  14. My Mother says he moved here a few years ago, I barely remember the day he first visited the village and even after he settled in he never made an impact. He would visit every seven days like clockwork to trade the herbs he had gathered and the fresh carcasses of a few Plainstriders for other goods. Then he would wander off back towards the lonely hut on the outskirts of the village. He had done this for five years apparently, never joining the village for celebrations, stories, or even the meetings of the elders. He was so devoted to not making any impact I could not help but notice and wonder why he is the way he is. Mother says I am being nosy and that I should respect the wishes of the elders. Father is unhappy that I even think about venturing out that far alone, but something about him rubs me wrong. He's hiding something, and I am going to prove it. Day 1: I snuck out after dark to spy on him. He apparently turns in early but I still saw him out and about. For an old man he moves fairly easily. He has a slight limp and I think his right arm is damaged, he stretches and rubs it a lot and favors picking things up with his left. There's a worn path from his hut that leads into the base of the mountains, likely the path through the trees to where he knows the herbs grow. Tonight he was looking over the only other spot of interest in his plot. A fenced off garden. I know what carrots are and the ones he's growing are far too large to be them. He never brings in any mutated crops like this to trade, just what is he plotting? Day 5: I need to have a better way in and out. When I got home, Mother caught me immediately and gave me a loud scolding. She did not care about the outsider's mutant crops and she wouldn't let me go out and play until today. Tonight I am going to talk to Orda and have him vouch for me that we went to the lake to play. I'm going earlier and I am going to see more. When I arrived, he was skinning hares. At least a dozen pelts had been put on the rack and the meat had been put into a stew pot. I should have eaten before I came, even the bland, lightly spiced but probably tasteless stew got my stomach growling. Which tipped him off. Bloodied and with a knife in hand, I was not about to let him find me. Day 10: I haven't had time to visit lately thanks to the orders Father has been receiving but after a few days of hard work he's being lenient. I was able to grab dinner and go to spy on him again. He was not there yet he left a plate with cornbread on a table outside. The birds had been picking at it, did he leave it for me? That does not sound right. He was likely out gathering at the mountain's base and I was not going to let this opportunity go to waste! I finally had good light to look at his carrots, and that is what they are. Carrots, massive, me-sized carrots. He has a trough for gathering water out back but the watering can seems to be fed by a special jug. I recognize the markings as Pandaren but when I opened it all I smelled was water. I hear in the city that some people will pay ridiculous amounts of money for special water taken from far off glaciers. Is this Elder stupid enough to fall for that? Looking into the hut revealed far more than I could have expected. He's not much for decoration. He doesn't have anything that looks like what we have in my home or anyone's homes. No pelts, no crafted goods, just locked boxes and pictures. I could hear his dragging hoof outside. I would have to fiddle with the locks another day. Day 17: He's a creature of habit. Like clockwork he visits the village to shop and trade every seven days. I decided that maybe he did the same with other activities. I left earlier than before and went back to his hut a week after the last time. I was right! He was out gathering! I am no good with locks though so I searched for what was unlocked. The pictures are not of family, I wonder who they are? One is of a land of falling leaves and he's kissing a Pandaren woman in formal wear. Another is of a small horde of orc children and an old grinning matron. Another was of an assembled group of armed guards. The Tauren standing at the side with a blank expression must be him when he was younger. Another veteran perhaps? More pictures show what I can only assume are his allies, blood elves in shining armor, an older orc with an eye patch, A forsaken that was gripping him with a cheeky grin, obviously enjoying the elder's annoyance, and more. He was definitely in the Horde's armed forces once upon a time. The rest of the boxes are locked but there were two pieces that wouldn't fit in them. A well-worn spear, the craftsmanship was amazing but it had seen so much use judging by the scars and wear in the blade. The other was a shield that seemed to be made by someone far smaller. Is that it? Father said that many veterans of the fourth and subsequent wars come here to Mulgore to be away from the noise, in desperate need of peace. But is that all there is to it? What about the mutated carrots? Why is a soldier like this so boring? I'm going to have to do something. I need to see what's in those chests, and for that, I will need his keys or to break the locks. Day 32: He's a slave to routines but today was just bad luck. He came back early. I barely got out in time but he saw me leaving. He's old though, he probably didn't see who I was. Please let him have poor eyesight. Day 33: For the first time in five years he visited in the middle of the week. He did not know my name but the moment we locked eyes, I saw recognition. He's old, but those icy blue eyes are keen as a hawk. I tried to run but he was waiting for me at my house! Mother gave me a lashing so bad I think I am going to spend all summer working! I've never seen her so angry! Day 34: I have to help him now. I wanted to get close but now they're having ME assist him! I don't want to be eaten by his carrots! That has to be how they get so big! I'm going to hide when I am sent out tomorrow. Day 35: Mother took me to him, not trusting me to walk there myself. She SAW the mutated crops! She saw them! She was surprised and I thought for maybe a second she would change her mind. Instead she bought some ridiculous story about 'Enriched waters from Pandaria'. He was stupid enough to pay money for water from a distant glacier and SHE fell for it? CARROTS DO NOT GROW THAT BIG FROM WATER! He put me to work setting snares around his garden. Apparently the mutated crops draw hares in hoards. The number of traps is just as unsettling as the vegetables' size but so long as I don't go near them I think I will be fine. Day 42: Now I have become like clockwork. I'm to work there every week on this day. Today he had me help him grind herbs down. He mixes what we crush it into a paste... For his scars. He asked me for help with the ones on his back. It's gross but he really is an elder. A decent amount of muscle has withered away over the years and his hide bares so many patches where the fur is gone. Burn marks, blade wounds, bullet wounds, and lasting injuries I don't recognize. The paste is mostly for the older burns but a few others as well. He has to tell me which though. It leaves my fingers slightly numb afterwards... He must be in a lot of pain. Day 49: It's strange that I never even knew his name before I grew suspicious. How few mentions he received even in the village but I think that is what he was aiming for. He wants to live out the rest of his days and be... Forgotten? That cannot be true. But today he told me it was Megeda, Megeda Dustrunner. Day 56: I asked what kind of soldier he was today as he was showing me how to properly care for the carrots, as it turns out the water does make a difference but he imports most of it from Pandaria. Something about the spirits that far south produces incredibly nourishing water for plant-life. Anyway, he says he was not a soldier, nor a bandit, and the more questions I asked, the more defensive he became. Is he afraid of letting someone know? Maybe I was right all along, maybe he's wanted, hunted even! Like one of the old Grimtotem. Day 70: He did not want me last week, I think I might have shaken him with my questions. Today though, he told me he was a sell-sword, a mercenary. Specifically, he was in charge of the main base's defenses. He trained guardsmen and assessed the fortifications. A very orcish job it seems and I think I understand why he's not preachy and vague like most other elders I have met. I asked to see his weapon today and when I touched it, I felt a strange hum. A buzzing from inside the metal and a tingle in my palms. When I told him it seemed to make him sad and he had me spend the rest of the day weeding while he went out to get something from the woods Day 77: My mother thinks I have learned my lesson and says I no longer need to go there to work. But I still visited today and amazingly, he had visitors! A machine the likes I had only heard about was idling by his home, it had four wheels and was made of some strange black metal. There were three younger people, two orcs and a troll. I wondered if maybe they were the children from his mercenary days. But the laughter was wrong. There was no joy in it, just mockery. One was talking to Megeda as the others walked around his property. He raised no fuss when one sneered at his garden and stomped the mutated crops. He didn't even flinch as the orc started yelling in his face, something about respect and an unsubtle threat. But his attention did stray towards the hut as one of them went in, only to return a few minutes later with an armful of items. The bag of gold was of no consequence to Megeda, the spear tossed into the dirt hardened his eyes, but when the boy went to toss his picture frame out he finally spoke. "Don't." When they tossed the picture to the ground and laughed at him, he was quick to silence the mockery. I had seen his hand shake as he held a basket of herbs before but when he struck, there was power and precision behind the blow. When he moved, there was no shaking and it was far from slow. Every strike was met with a scream of pain or a snapping noise and within seconds it was over. He did not pursue them as they staggered back to the machine. Only pulling out a cloth to clean the blood from his walking stick. When I approached, he tried to dismiss me. He seemed to regret what I had seen but I refused to walk away. When I pushed further, he broke and began talking to me. He had many stories, and most of them seemed to be about a life of loss and violence. He was a few seasons older than me when some abomination came to his village and slew dozens including the last of his family. He turned to a life as a mercenary, unable to live there any longer and desperate to eventually track the monster down. Everything he had gained in that life was taken away in time. The demons of his past claiming his friends, obsessive rage taking his mentor, and eventually, his own mistakes as a leader leading to the deaths of others. For all he has given in pursuit of the monster, I am uncertain if he ever caught it. But he sought the death of someone, and he found plenty of death along the way. He's scared and tired. He did not want to fight the boys but he recognized it as the only way to get through to them. Now he worries about the night and the next day. What violence will cost him in return when their wounds have been licked. Day 78: I spent the day wondering. About my village, my parents... Everyone. I thought about how it had all just ended so fast for him. What would I do if the same were to happen to me? Would I take up arms? Would I wind up leading the same life as him? Would I be an elder living in fear with nothing near the end of my days? No. Father said our elders have the weight of years burdening them with wisdom. We respect them. We learn from them. From Megeda I have learned that the violence ends when both sides walk away but also that the back and forth will never begin if it is broken at the start. If the tragedy has someone to prevent it from occurring in the first place. People are always going to need people to guard those who cannot protect themselves. Tomorrow, I am going to ask him to train me, to pass on what he has learned so that maybe my village will never end up as another Kaur'he. I won't take no for an answer, he cannot deny someone who now has the same fears he does. We all need a break in the routine anyway.
  15. Honorborn Jobs List The Jobs List has a twofold purpose. One, often in RP there is downtime between events and stories, or you just get busy with real life and can't commit to RPing all the time. In the Honorborn, it's safe to assume that even if your character isn't participating in the big crazy jobs, they always have some low level work that they're doing. The jobs list can be used to help with this so that you always have something your character could have been working on, even if you're not RPing it out. So if you take a break from RPing to deal with some real life stuff for a month, you can come back and say 'oh, yes, I have been doing X job from the job list' IC. The second purpose is to fill in whenever you don't have more exciting RP going on. Waiting for that big storyline to pick up? Just want to do something a little lower stakes? Want something simple to get to know your guildies better? You can ask me to run any of the jobs list jobs for you! I will try to keep this list updated with new ideas and expansion relevant jobs. General Jobs -Act as a consultant for any kind of specialized knowledge (i.e. acting as a consultant on alchemy as an alchemist) - Assist a farm overrun with Quillboar -Investigate a haunted house -Protection detail for a nobleman traveling to Booty Bay -Protect a caravan traveling south out of Duskwood -Help remove troggs assaulting a dwarven villiage - Assist a member of the Brotherhood of the Sword with a murder investigation - Act as a bouncer for a fancy party - Help protect members of the Explorer's League with a spelunking mission - Fight alongside the Sporelings against Naga invaders - Investigate rumors of demonic activity in a town - Escort precious cargo through a troll infested area - Help with a diving team trying to recover a sacred item from a shipwreck - Keep Satyr away from a moonwell while Druids are attempting a cleansing ritual - Head to the Plaguelands and take down a minor lich who is raising undead - Drive vermin off a ranch in Kun Lai - Provide security at a Tuskarr wedding - Investigate a supposed bandit hideout in Westfall - Check out a recently unearthed tomb in Uldum - Help a goblin in Winterspring do research on the local Yeti - Go undercover to help with a Brotherhood of the Sword investigation into a fighting pit - Protect a group of druids collecting samples in Un'Goro - Check out the disappearance of a group of settlers in Grizzly Hills - Protect a shipment of jade from the Hozen - Find out why the spirits are restless around an old ruin - Fight back against a recent silithid incursion in Silithus - Put an end to a witch assaulting a Drustvar town with wickerbeasts - Help discover the reason behind a failing harvest - Assist the Gilnean Liberation front against a group of Sylvanas loyalists - Help a group in Felwood attempting to cleanse part of the land - Protect a group of Dark Iron from Ogres while they set up defenses on a new basecamp in the Burning Steppes - Put a stop to agitated gnolls attacking Lakeshire - Clear out a cave of kobolds so that the miners can go back to work - Head to the Hinterlands and help with the Griffin hatching season - Cull the overpopulation of murlocs along the coast of Westfall - Head to Ashenvale to help with rebuilding efforts - Protect a caravan heading through Hillsbrad - Provide a protection detail for an ambassador - Destroy an artefact that is driving a tribe of Furbolg mad - Help take down a mogu who has been threatening a pandaren brewery - Push back against a group of orcs threatening the usual safety of the mountain passes heading into Dun Morogh - Help a trophy hunter claim the head of a large threshadon - Take out a massive bear that has been eating the rams of a dwarven village - Protect a shipment heading through Deadwind Pass - Sneak into Freehold and stop an important business deal - Assist a group of Wardens with clearing out a residual demon hideout - Cull a den of giant spiders, and bring back poison to the nearby town for antidotes - Protect a young lord going out 'adventuring' for the first time - Help a rich, useless, mage move - Fight a group of cultist holdouts in Stormsong Valley - Help the Sentinels of Feralas fight back against an Ogre threat Shadowlands Jobs -Coming soon!
  16. Everyone in Azeroth knows about the Dragonflights, Blue, green, bronze, Black, Red. But there is one, lost in time, the Prismere dragonflight. This dragonflight, like none others. did not use the power of nature, or any of the elements for that matter. Instead, they had to power to control ones mind, and used the power of their own rage to protect Azeroth. The Legion were seen as if they had no chance of claiming or even leaving their mark on Azeroth. But one day, five seconds is all it took to erase the Prismere Dragonflight. In those five seconds, a portal to another universewas torn into the air inhailing all who was near. The Prismere Dragonflight was no more... Or... So they thought. As the legion continued to attack Azeroth they realized that it couldn't of been that easy t get rid of one of the Dragonflights, But at the same time shrugged it off as the demons they are. Three years went by, after the Prismere Dragonflight had been vanquished, and there were now "Factions" Horde and Aliance... How pitiful.... Curiosity Ironically didn't kill when a curious little Druid found a Dwarf in a coffin made of a strange red rock, and thought to ressurect the being. The being happened to be a dwarf, but with charredskin as if they were pitch black scales. Uppon revival, the druid asked the dwarf "What is the red rock you were burried in"?... no answer... "why is your skin as black as obsidion"?... again no answer... "What is your..."......... "Me' Name be' Thrane......... Prismere..." replied the Dwarf. "an' who migh' ye' be, Bringon' back an elder of an Ancient Dragnfl... *wheeze*..." "oh where are my manners, my name is Thy'Ladon"..... "I've gotten this interest in learning about ancient times, My Wife Elaine loves to studdy fowers, and how they can help people get better, and which ones heal the fastest" he says with a smile on his face. Thy'Ladon: "So, I hope I'm not bothering you, but what is the red coffin for"? Thrane: " 'Twas to show an officer of the Prismere Dragnflights courage in battle." suddenly the Ground started shaking, sounds of footsteps, marching, yelling, screaming. A moment later, a young Nightelf Rogue ran into the room with Thy'Ladon and Thrane. Thy'Ladon: "Elaine"! " What's going on out there"? Elaine: "Arthas has come" Thrane: "Arthas"? Thy'Ladon: "stay away from windows and doors, ok"? Elaine starts moving away from the dor when a frosty blue sword impales her through the door. Thy'Ladon: "ELAINE"!!!!! Elaine gets back up after a moment, but with frosted eyes, the eyes of the cursed. Thrane stood up, trying to regain his balance after centuries of being dead... Tackled the Night elf who had helped him, and told him, with a tear in his own eye, that Elaine was gone for good. Elaine Clawed at Thranes back as he stood infront of Thy'Ladon. Thy'Ladon took up his spear, and stabbed right through his Newly wedded wifes heart. and as the blood ran to the floor, he cried, telling her how sorry he was. Thy'Ladon Picked up Elaines body and took off with Thrane. In destought, Thy'Ladon and Thrane went to Stormwind to seek King Varian to warn him of the Lich King, and what he had done to Thy'Ladons home. After hearing about this, King Varian requested them to follow him outside his castle. He led them just outside of the Dwarven district under a tree, where Thy'Ladon could bury his precious Elaine. "This is sadly all I can do for you." and as he set down a doll by the grave, Thy'Ladon promised he would find a way to pay the king back. Thrane remained by Thy'Ladons side for comfort. Thrane needed to find what had remained of his Dragonflight, but did not want to leave a heartfallen elf behind, and so he invited him to get his mind on what had happened. As they set off to head to Northrend, flowers flew in the breeze as if guiding them. The flowers had come together in the shape of an elf, a female elf, Thy'Ladon all of a sudden got a burst of emotion and courage, for the flowers were guided by the spirit of Elaine who had sworn to him to stay by his side forever. and so Thy'Ladon collected a pedal from one of the flowers. When they reached Northrend, Thrane Morphed into a Dragon, allowing the druid to ride to the location. Thrane: "I's alo' colder than i' was las' time I was 'ere." When they reached their location, There were only bones, death, decay, and shattered hope. Thrane knew he was the last of his kind. Thy'Ladon: "Are you ok friend?" Thrane: "Tha' damn Legion................" .......... " 'ey tood everethin form meh....." ......... "Teh Legion are monsters..." "remember tha'." After a few moments to mourn the fallen, They started heading back to where they started Thrane and Thy'Ladon then flew by the tower of dragonflights heading back, and thought they had heard Thrane's name being screamed. "PRISMERE?!?!?!? IS IT REALLY YOU??? IT CANT BE!" shouted a semifamilier voice. when he landed at the tower, he saw a gnome, chromie, his favored friend..... and she still lived...... Thrane: "It........ It can't be....... You're......" Thrane stated going down in tears. Chromie: "I am... It's Nice to see you again.... Prismere." Thrane then almost fainted as the tears ran down his face, sweat building up on his forehead, and muscles tensing up. Thrane: "How did you survive... De' Legion?" Chromie: "After the Prismere Dragonflights fall... The Legion just kind of.... well........... Vanished." Thrane: "We were the target all along........." ..... "I'm sorry... I have to go..." Chromie: "Farewell...Dear friend." They conitinued on their Journey to find answers to why the Prismere Dragonflight was targeted, and how they could manage to do it in merely a few moments. They found nothing.... not a hint, nor clue...... the answer lost.... forever forgotten......... As a year came by since Elaines burrial, Thy'Ladon and Thrane went to go visit the gravesite, suddenly..... the sounds of Arthas came from behind Thrane, and as he turned around Arthas swung his sword and for a fraction of a second that felt like an eternity, Thrane saw the past, the answers to it all. The legion was never truly there, a member on the inside was fooled by the Legions promise of power and slew their own brethren. Thrane woke up in a cold sweat because of the vision and saw vision after vision after vision, Arthas falling, a new Lich king, Deathknights Being freed from their Dark, Corupted chains, Betrayal, the Legions return, Lost culturs, and even the death of all worlds. Thy'Ladon looked over at Thrane as he was tying his shoes. Thy"Landon: "You ok man?" Thrane: "Don' worreh 'bou' i'." they then, actually, went to the grave of Elaine, and as they were walking over, again the beautiful sprit of Elain followed them in the flowers holding Thy'Ladons hand the entire way there. A tear ran down Thy'Ladons face as he reached his poor beloved Elaines grave... ((Diggydiggy-Ravenholdt))
  17. Hey MooMoo, It been waaay too long since I wrote you. 12 years? I be seeing you more recently than that, but I wish I be writing you. It be a year and a half since you be taken from me. Before that, things were not just good. We were together, but you not be feeling good for years. We not be able to adventure, but I wish I would have, could have. I be missing you more than this troll could ever say. Even if I be saying it, it not be making sense. I be looking at this last letter that you wrote and I be never did respond to.. There just be so many things I be wanting to say but never be able to. MooMoo, I be loving you and always will be loving you. You were the star in my eye, the warm in my heart, the smile in my bounce. I would be given anything to wander around un’goro swamp with you. I know that aint going to be happening again. For that, my MooMoo, I don’t know what to be saying, other than I love you and I be thinking about you every day. I not be saying I never love again, but I never love like you again. I love you MooMoo, and I will be missing you forever. Love, Your pogo-troll, SwiftBleid.
  18. Sarah ran ahead, her armor clanking. Everyone was in good cheer. She was covered in blood, but none of it was hers. Daniel had made sure of that. They were deep in the depths of Blackrock's spires, clearing the place of cultists and ogres for honor and profit. Even the usually morose Oliver seemed to walk with a lighter step. Sarah suddenly put up her hand in warning and a finger to her lips to urge silence. Terand crouched low and moved to the shadows to scout ahead. A clear chanting harmony floated through the stone passage toward them and the party hugged the wall as they advanced slowly toward what they gradually understood to be a ceremony of some sort. At the edge of a pool of lava whose deep yellow softly moving light made eerie shadows around the cavern, a massive orc in dark robes stood behind an altar with his arms in the air and his face to the stone ceiling so high above that it was lost in the darkness. All around the altar were similarly robed but far more ordinarily sized folks of varied races voicing the chant in obviously practiced tones that would have been almost pleasant if they weren't so ominous. Atop the altar was a smaller female orc dressed in almost nothing, a few strategically placed strips of cloth. With a blank expression, she stared up at the huge orc leading the ceremony. Terand tiptoed silently into place behind the leader, unnoticed by any of the cultists, but was forced to draw back when the huge orc turned around and dipped a black stone cup into the lava. The chanting continued, increasing in volume as the huge orc handed the cup to the small one on the altar. Daniel hissed in sympathy as he realized what was about to happen and Sarah's plate gloves clanked as she put a hand on his arm to calm him. The nearest cultist stopped their chant to look over their shoulder, and Sarah shouted and dashed forward. "Now!" Terand was already in place an stunned the massive orc with the a swift leap that ended with the hilt of his blade driving into the base of the orc's skull. But even as the party scattered the ceremony and cut down the cultists, the small orc on the altar brought the stone cup to her mouth and drank down the molten rock within. Even if she had thought to scream, there was doubtless nothing to scream with. She made a slight gurgling sound as she collapsed onto the stone, flesh of her throat melting as she did. Despite Terand's interruption, the orc leader's transformation happened anyway. His already imposing form liquified and expanded, becoming part fire part body with an echoing roar that was both a voice and an explosion. Sarah took control of the monstrous orc elemental's attention, holding up her shield as her enchanted blade slashed at every weak point she could see. Oliver and Terand made sure none of the cultists escaped. Daniel, though, was entirely focused on the orc on the altar. His healing magic flowed through her, but he seriously doubted whether the damage she had done to herself could be repaired. Sarah would have to hold her own, as he was confident she could, while he saw to the dying girl. His work was so difficult and required so much of his attention, that he paid no notice to the fight around him as it waxed and waned and finally ended, the cult leader's lavabeast corpse oozing slowly back into the pool behind them. When Sarah approached, wiping her sweat off her brow with the soft leather protecting the inside of her elbow, her shield was half gone, destroyed. She had a burn on the space on her chin that her helmet didn't quite reach, and Oliver was bleeding from a gash on his leg, but they had managed without their healer. "Is she going to make it?" Sarah asked as she pulled off her helmet. "I'm not sure," Daniel answered. "We have to take her back to the city. We have to try." Oliver and Terand shared a look. Daniel knew what it meant. He knew they wondered what made this orc any different than the ones whose bodies littered the path they had taken down the spire, but they all knew better than to ask. They all knew Daniel's heart bled freely for any he perceived to be victims and they put up with it for the sake of his skills. "All right," Sarah said. "We've been in here long enough for one day as it is. Let's head back." A pair of ogre spears and Daniel's own shield as well as some of the cultist robes were pressed into service as the makeshift stretcher they used to take the orc girl back to Stormwind. Sarah smiled at Daniel as they made their way up through the spire, taking the long way. He smiled back. Their work was good for both of them, and at the end of the day, he always made sure he could sleep well knowing he had done his best to make the world a better place. ((Kumai - Twisting Nether))
  19. All sorrows can be borne if put into a story? No. I have no sorrows of my own. I do not bear sorrows. The stories I tell are deceptive and manipulative to make the world closer to what I wish. I am someone else's sorrow come to life, someone else's story untold and made to walk within the world, someone else's sorrow never properly borne, made of misery to bring misery. I am my parents' sorrows. I am Silvermoon's sorrows. I am the story. I am the story that makes their lives easier and everyone else's more difficult.
  20. Full Name: Malethia Blazestone Nicknames: Mal, 'Thia Date of Birth: 16 November, Year 8 Age: 35 Race: Sin'dorei Gender: Female Hair: Blonde Skin: Fair Eyes: Golden Glow Height: 5'9" Weight: 104 lbs Place of residence: None Place of Birth: Silvermoon - Blazestone Manor Known Relatives: Quindel Blazestone (father, assumed deceased), Delaria Blazestone (mother, deceased), Melos Blazestone (younger brother, deceased) Religion/Philosophy: Zen Occupation: Adventurer, Sage Group/Guild affiliation: Sanctuary Enemies: The Scourge, the Burning Legion, the Twilight Hammer Weapon of Choice: Fists Physical Features: Malethia's skin is covered in tattoos, largely invisible save for flickers of arcane energy randomly flowing through them. They begin to glow brightly when she uses her abilities. Special Abilities: Malethia is a Runemaster; her tattoos channel arcane energy into her body to increase her physical prowess to increase her strength and agility, as well as granting her mystical abilities in conjunction with her Pandaren training. History Born to a great family of fire mages, Malethia Blazestone was destined to a life of luxury as one of the city's ruling Magisters. That destiny changed when the Death Knight Arthas lead the Scourge into Quel'Thalas; her family was slaughtered while she was left for dead. Malethia barely survived, but serious pyrophobia developed from the attack and prevented her from continuing her family's legacy. Salvation came from the newly founded Order of Blood Knights. Its Mistress, Liadrin, inducted her as one of the Order's first and youngest members. Driven by a desire for vengeance, Malethia excelled in her training but remained emotionally detached from others. On the eve of her ceremony bonding her to M'uru's power, the Naaru visited her in a dream. For reasons unknown, it unlocked her natural connection to the Light Primal. Now a paladin, Malethia held the source of her powers secret for fear of the stigma it would cause amongst her own people. Scared, confused, and alone, Malethia masked her natural personality behind that of a harsh Blood Knight taskmaster. Driven by rage and a desire for revenge against all who had wronged her, Malthia joined The Grim and their bloody war against the Alliance. The constant strife and bloodshed fractured her personality and she became increasingly unstable, until she was finally banished from their ranks. Broken and abandoned, she wandered lost until she encountered Vilmah Bloodborne by chance. After a conversation, she joined Sanctuary and embraced the path of peace as a priestess. Shortly before the Cataclysm, Sanctuary engaged the Twilight Hammer to prevent the deployment of a super-weapon capable of wiping out cities. Malethia seemingly sacrificed herself to destroy the weapon. Though believed dead, she was in fact trapped in the caverns beneath Silithus. Bereft of her connection to the Light, contaminated with fel and void magic, her personality completely split. She pursued a path of evil, killing innocents and pursuing insane acts of science and magic in an attempt to reclaim the soul she was convinced had been stolen from her. Eventually, her path took her to Pandaria in search of the dark energies of the Sha for use in her experiments. There, an attack upon a Pandaren village resulted in her capture. Sentenced to death for her crimes, a wandering monk happened to stop by. Seeing the young elf for who she was - a lost and wounded soul - he set her free. Using his mystical skills, the Pandaren cleansed Malethia of the magic infecting her and introduced her to the Way of Zen. After years of conflict both physical and spiritual, Malethia learned how to balance the warring fragments of her self. For the first time in her adult life, she became whole. Malethia spent years traveling Azeroth to learn the ways of the Runemaster, combining her training as a Monk with the arcane power of her family's legacy. With her new abilities, she decided it was time to rejoin the battle for peace, returning to Orgrimmar and entering the ranks of Sanctuary once again.
  21. 9.16.20 Fifteen years. That’s how old The Grim is now. Only four months after it was formed, I joined them. I never thought it would take this long to achieve the goal of peace through annihilation. I never thought I would last this long either. We all got together tonight, those of us that are still here, and listened to Awatu talk about The Grim anniversary. I told the story of the King of Rats. And then we all named people we remembered who were lost to us. So many lost to us. I have felt that loss keenly over the years, but to hear those names in so many other voices….. Sometimes, as I find myself looking more to the past than to the future, I wonder if I’ve been here too long. Muatah would scold me for wasting time dwelling on the past. Yichimet would give me wise words of solace. Mohan and his wolf Ohoye would give comfort just in their strong, steady presence. I still miss them all. So much. Sammuel, the first Grim I ever met. Ravovich, The Bear, who taught me how to fight as part of a team. Abric, the Enforcer, who trained me to be a better rogue. Grolish, who taught me how to read. Chavi, who showed me that even in undeath, there could still be wonder and joy. Cessily and the other early elves who formed my hatred of the race. Kiannis, Elek, Cen, and Orphyn, who proved there could be exceptions to that. Bloodscream. Skash. Malstrom. Maurt. Regna’netah. Warneshi. Leyu’jin. Cristok. Laughingcrow. Chaindog. Hektar. Kaz. Emmons. Inzema. Atticus. Drinn. Trilok. The Triplets. Gex. Thrysta. Gazreeth. So many others. Even my own twin, Anaie, hasn’t been seen in several months. So many good Grims come and gone. Dead or in some other way, lost to us now. And yet, the Mandate still stands as long as there are those who still believe in it’s purpose. The Grim who remain, and the new ones who have joined in recent years, have taken up the call. “PEACE THROUGH ANNIHILATION” still rings through the land. And always will.
  22. September 12th: "It wasn't my fault" The statement was as short as reminding me to pick up onions before leaving the city. Our child was a boy, he died. It's not my fault. Years ago, Lilliana stepped out of my life without a word. At a time when she could have gone into labor at any second. She stepped out and I did not hear anything but vague mentions of her for years. I tried to reach out but nothing came of it. I received no word of his birth, I received no word of how she has been throughout these years. Nothing. I thought I had gotten over it. I had moved on, I had found love again and finally built what I thought I would have had with her. Then she appears for a drink with Khorvis. The two stay a while and chat as I struggle to come up with anything to say... What could I have even said? Would it have mattered with her? She would have laughed it off or ducked the question. Yet that isn't fair to her. I could see the mask cracking. The fact that she reached out then spoke something of how she had changed. Even if slightly. But right now I can't think about it. I can't praise how she still seems to care when all I have is an aching void. I never even got to meet him and now I never will. It hurts. I hurts because I know of all the things she's ever told me. This is the truth. Payback List: Me: If I had not driven her away, would I have been there to stop it from happening?
  23. Tahzani

    Cobrak

    "He got moah rough edges den raw timbah. He goes outta his way ta be an asshole but unlike most if jah ask him ta stop he will. We butted heads a few times but he... Well he still growin'. Changin' slowly wit de world an' ah tink he a bettah man den people give him credit fah."
  24. "Fah a mon dat used ta be a frequent customah ah surprisingly don' know much about him. He be dutiful, loyal, an' because a dat, frustrated as shit." Tahzani remarked, setting a clean glass down. "Mon has patience like a saint though honestly. How he used ta deal wit Shokkra wit a stiff upper lip until he eventually called her out. He does dat a lot actually, can't disagree wit what he says but his timin'...Not de best." The troll blew out a breath and eyed the interviewer. "Seriously jah don' know how many times ah seen him get his ass beat, hell ah NEVAH got de bloodstain outta my boat from dis one time."
  25. Kumai

    Kumai

    Full Name: Kumai Race: Orc Gender: Female Hair: Long, henna colored. Eyes: Light brown Height: A little on the short side Weight: A little on the round side. Notable Physical Features: A massive burn scar covers most of the left side of her body, including most of her neck down to her hips, though it is usually only visible if intentionally uncovered by clothing She refuses to speak, though whether she actually can or not is debatable, and instead either creates images with ash and heat or signs with her hands Place of Residence: Dalaran Place of Birth: Nagrand Known Relatives: None Occupation: Errandmage, apprentice enchanter Guild Affiliation: Sanctuary Known Associates: Qabian Grimfire Known Nemesis: Always wary of Twilight cultists and current members of The Grim, but no sincere enemies Special Skills: Extremely delicate manipulations of fire and heat, especially shadow, light, and ash directly within a flame source. Positive Personality Traits: Determined, independent, intellectual, curious, carefree, easygoing, tenacious Negative Personality Traits: Overly cautious, naive, proud, selfish, stubborn History: When Kumai joined the Grim, she confessed her Bleeding Hollow clan origins and her past interaction with the Twilight cult that resulted in her scarring and her disconnection from the elements. She was born and raised in Nagrand, but she is very far from Mag'har. She just had her rite of passage into adulthood when the portal to Azeroth was opened permanently, and ended up with the Twilight not long after. She was only with them a very brief time before being rescued from Blackrock, though her rescue did not go smoothly. After a slightly awkward admission interview with the Grim, she faded into the background quickly and remained there, hidden and untested. Not long after Qabian returned during the campaign in the Broken Isles, Kumai asked him to teach her. He took her under his wing and became unusually protective of her. Eventually, he cut ties with her publicly when her capacity to follow The Grim's Mandate became questionable. In the present, Kumai has fully abandoned all of her connections and past with the Grim and the Twilight. She seeks knowledge and companionship with Sanctuary, a hard turn from her previous associations, but she tries not to belabor her past too much, looking instead to the future. STORIES: Beginnings and Beginnings: Letters to a friend, current character journal ((Letters Unsent: Kumai's old Grim journal)) What Friends Are For: It's hard to know sometimes Rescuers: Not the main character
  26. Kumai placed the small pile of books on the plain wooden table she set up in her new room in Sanctuary's Razor Hill quarters. She frowned as she pulled a sheaf of blank papers from inside the cover of one of the books. She was doing her best and didn't regret the decision she had made, but she questioned herself, her capacity, her correctness, as people do. She was a quiet person. She made it seem as though this was forced on her, but in truth, it was by choice. It was all by choice. She had been given a voice on a few occasions since the original loss, and technically, she still had the last, but she hated it. New voices never sounded like hers, never felt like hers. It always seemed like an outside force moved her mouth and she hated it. She had grown to feel most like herself when using her hands and the light and shadow that was hers. The voice was not hers. There were times she felt forced into it, but when she had the option, she chose. She looked around the room. It was so different than what she had become used to in Dalaran. Dalaran oddly suited her. It was full of people who tended to be so different from her on the surface, but somehow so very like her within their minds, curious and analytical, easily forgetting the world around them when they were lost in their own thoughts, few of them truly gregarious because they were too busy with the things they believed were important, things that might affect the entire world but were not individual people. Unfortunately, Razor Hill reminded her of people who were like her on the outside, but whose minds never worked like hers, people she had abandoned, people she did not miss. But this was the Horde, wasn't it? Dalaran had separated her from the Horde, creating an illusion of a world where only magic mattered. The Grim's version of the Horde was incompatible with a world everyone who wanted to share could share. The Twilight's version of the Horde was, well, a mess. Kumai wanted to know the Horde as it really was. Qabian thought maybe here, or at least with these people, she could learn about a Horde that he did not himself believe in. Kumai leaned over the table to put her hand to the wall, carved by the elements. A toxic mixture of rage and despair welled up in her, but she was achingly familiar with the sensation now and waited patiently for her acquired knowledge to dissolve her reflexive pain with no more action on her part than a few contemplative moments. She pulled a quill and ink from the pack on the floor and finally sat down to write. - I know you said we would not see each other again, but I don't believe you. I might believe you if Dalaran crashes into the sea one day, but you have too much history there to avoid it forever. I'm going to see you in its streets one of these days. Your Violet have me living in Razor Hill. This is nothing I'm used to. I've lived on rolling plains. I've lived in the molten depths of a great mountain. I've lived in a thriving city of magic. I suppose the word for this place is quaint. There's a simplicity to it that reminds me of where I started, but if there's anywhere I never wanted to go again, it is back where I started. But then the Horde started where I started, didn't it? It makes sense to go back if I am to understand them. This is what I wanted, what I asked for, but it isn't what I expected. Not that I know what I expected, something more brutal perhaps, more stoic grunting, less awkward smiling. Despite my discomfort, there is a sweetness here. I trust everyone's intentions, which is new for me. I think Dalaran will always be more comfortable because it suits me, suits my authentic voice, but this place seems like it will be better for me in the end, more wholesome, more healing, and will help me find the things about myself that I abandoned long ago. This was the right decision. If I sound like I'm trying to convince myself, I am. I know that you do not worry about me, and that was not a lie, but I also know you will be curious. Consider these letters my gift to that curiosity. You will be tempted to keep them, but you should burn them. For both of us. ~K - Rather than address the letter, she tucked it away. Later, she would slip it under an unremarkable door in a Dalaran alley.
  27. A warm wind whipped the field of sunflowers into a frenzy as Nagoda tried to pick them. He clamped down the stack in his basket before they could take flight. Time was running short; he could not afford to waste time losing what he’d already gathered. The young Tauren carefully picked a flower from the tough earth and gasped as a ladybug flittered up from the pedals and landed on his snout. He giggled as the bug tickled his skin. Gently, he offered his finger for the bug to crawl on and watched it skitter about his palm exploratorily. “Nagoda!” a woman’s voice called. The boy started, spooking the bug into flying off. Nagoda sighed, wishing not for the first time that he could fly away, too. He stood and gathered his basket. “Coming, mother!” he called back, running to where her voice had come. He was breathing hard by the time he skidded to a stop by his mother’s side. His head came up to her thigh – he had never been a particularly tall child – and he squinted against the sun as he looked up at her. “Did you get all the flowers you needed, Little Goda?” The boy nodded and showed her his full basket. “I picked the best ones I could find! Auntie Mayha will love her wreath, won’t she?” Mother mussed his hair, smirking. “Of course she will, Goda. But just in case, we’ll be sure to weave in some extra love as we work.” Nagoda smiled and followed as Mother walked back to the village. The double-row of tents had been set weeks in advance to give the women of both families plenty of time to decorate and plan the arrangements. And yet, the place was still in a mad rush now that the day of the wedding had come. Nagoda didn’t understand what all the fuss was about, but he took his duties as part of the procession seriously. He smiled as his mother’s sisters hung wreathes of multi-colored flowers from the tents on the Goldenfield side of the village. He and his mother had spent the last few weeks roaming Mulgore’s flowery spring fields to prepare their decorations. His back still felt sore from all the bending over he’d done. Mother stopped before a lavish zhevra-skin tent and patted Nagoda’s shoulder. “You know the rules, Little Goda.” Nagoda nodded and replied, “No boys get to see the bride until the ceremony.” Mother smiled and poked his stubby horns. “Run along and see if your father or uncles need any help.” “You’ll tell Auntie that I picked out the sunflowers, right?” “Of course I will.” He grinned, satisfied. He ran off, carefully avoiding bumping into the mass of tauren milling about. He straightened the collar of his ceremonial vestments as he trotted along the kodo-trampled dirt path that led to the upraised platform where the bride and groom would speak their vows before a Speaker. His uncle’s tent – a reflection of the bride-tent but in shadowcat skin, black with grey stripes – stood taller than all others in the village, and nearest to the dais. Nagoda rushed to it, only to be stopped by his uncle Cassowary. The gruff brave was painted in yellows and whites, the colors of their family. He carried no weapon, though it made little difference. He, like all braves, was built so strongly that nothing could stand against his charge. Of Nagoda’s paternal uncles, Cassowary was by far the largest, and the quietest. “Hello Uncle,” Nagoda said. “Mother sent me to help, if I’m needed.” Cassowary grunted. “Go in, calf.” Nagoda did just that. Inside the tent smelled of paint and firewater. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom, but he heard his uncle laughing easily enough. The man’s voice boomed like a wardrum, especially indoors. Nagoda stepped closer as he and Nagoda’s father talked, not noticing the boy just yet. “Oh, brother, tell me you didn’t say that!” Uncle Kimba wheezed between laughs. Nagoda’s father Kord stood tall and resolute as an old oak, his smile warmer than the sun and just as distant. His golden-brown fur looked brighter than ever as he stood beside his midnight-black brother Kimba. Kord replied, “I did, much to my embarrassment. I thought it was rather impressive at the time.” Kimba was having trouble catching his breath due to laughter. “Who in their right mind calls his enemy ‘ruffians’ when demanding surrender? Next you’ll tell me you captured a ship full of pirates and called them all bilge-rats and scallywags!” Kord chuckled while his younger brother guffawed drunkenly. Nagoda saw his father laughing and joined in, not quite certain of what was funny about it. His father caught notice and turned to look at him. “Ah,” he said, “Hello, son. I trust you finished that task your mother had for you?” Nagoda nodded enthusiastically. “Auntie is going to look amazing with all those sunflowers!” Uncle Kimba snorted. “Oh yes, and them picked for her by a little fawn on her wedding day. Just like a fairy-tale, wouldn’t you say, kid?” Nagoda frowned, his ears wilting abashedly. Kord eyed Kimba sternly. “Don’t upset the boy, brother. He helps his mother. Should he be ashamed of that?” “At his age, we did a lot more than pick flowers, Kord. I don’t know why you don’t put a spear in the boy’s hands and take him hunting before you—” “Enough,” Kord said. He did not shout, but his firm tone was enough to choke the words from Kimba’s mouth. Father stroked his braided beard for a moment before breaking the silence, “The ceremony will not start for some time yet. Nagoda, do you think your uncle has the right idea? Shall we go out to hunt for the afternoon?” Nagoda felt his stomach churn at the thought. A hunt? The boy had never killed anything before, not even the smallest of ants. He was hopeless with a bow or a spear. And yet he was his father’s only son; the reputation of their family rested on him. He had to do this. The boy nodded. “Yes! Let’s do it!” Kimba grinned. “Finally, something enjoyable amidst the hassle of marriage.” He set down his clay cup of firewater and walked past Nagoda, patting the boy’s round cheek with a hard hand. “C’mon, squirt. We’ll find a weapon suitable for your level of experience.” --- Half an hour later, they stalked through the tall grass west of the village, listening to the wind, the chirps of birds, and the steady hum of crickets and cicadas. Nagoda focused all his efforts on not tripping over the long spear his father had chosen for him. The two adults carried bows as well as hunting spears. Uncle Kimba had had a mind to shoot some quail or duck if they came across any by the water. By the steadily approaching sound of croaking, Nagoda guessed they were nearing their destination. Kord looked back at Nagoda as they walked. “How’s your grip, son?” he asked, watching the boy’s hands. “Attaboy. Just like your dad showed you.” Nagoda beamed at the encouragement. Curiously, he asked, “When did your dad first take you hunting, Father?” Kimba glanced over his shoulder and answered, “I was maybe four or five, so your daddy would have been six, maybe seven. We valued going out and taking what we needed back then. Not like now.” He grumbled something about the Horde and ‘kids these days,’ which made Nagoda feel small and hopeless. Father harrumphed. “You undervalue the prosperity Thunder Bluff and the Horde have brought us, Kimba. Before the Horde, we had one path: survival. Now we have the power to choose a new path.” “Like learning about our history!” Nagoda chimed in. The lorespeakers in Thunder Bluff had always held great interest for the boy. Sometimes he would buy bits of paper and ink to write out stories of his own or draw the heroes his teachers told him about. Kimba scoffed. “History. What you should learn from history is that you have to be ready for when the wolves are poised to pounce. You must be strong enough to fight a threat you didn’t even know was there. Our people took a heavy blow from the Burning Legion, but we survived because it’s what we knew best. You think when your boy’s generation takes over for us that they’ll be prepared to do the same?” Nagoda looked to his father. The golden brave got his usual far-off look that always came on him when he considered the future. “Yes,” he answered, “I do.” Kimba sighed. “Well, I’ve followed you this far. I guess I won’t give up on you now, brother.” --- A few hours later, the sun neared the horizon, casting long shadows and a bloodred light across the field of Mulgore. Nagoda stood beside his father, adjusting his vestments again as the other guests shuffle to their positions on either side of the village walkway. Uncle Kimba knelt before the Earthspeaker – an elderly man in elaborate feathered robes – and awaited the beginning of the ceremony. Nagoda looked up to his father. “Did you mean what you said to Uncle, Father? Do you really think I can be like you someday?” Kord looked down at his son, his face riddled with shadows. “Like me?” he replied, “Perhaps. But what I know is that you will be you, son. And I believe you will be the sort of man this world needs.” Nagoda beamed, though he felt a weight press down on him. Responsibility, he thought. But his father believed in him. He would not let him down. He never would. Drums beat as the bride emerged from her striped tent. She was radiant in the red light, adorned with a dress of golden flowers and pelts. She strode confidently down the walkway with the strong gait of a warrior. Kimba rose and descended the steps of the dais to meet her. He took her hand and led her up to the Earthspeaker, where they both knelt together. When they spoke their oaths to each other, and to the Earth Mother, the light of the sun set, and the gathered guests lit their torches. When Kimba planted a kiss on his bride, both sides of the village converged in the middle, offering welcome to one another’s family. Nagoda got swept up into the rush of tauren bodies, rapidly calling out welcome to whomever he could. Then Father lifted him onto his shoulders. Nagoda cheered and called out welcomes to everyone, towering over them all for once.
  1. Load more activity