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  1. Yesterday
  2. Last week
  3. Pelerin here! I was telling a friend about the good old days today, googled SMU, and discovered this thread. I truly miss it. Some of the best times I ever had in WoW. Dewce, Nico, Sara, Whisper, so many more. Those Sunday morning alt/newbie gear-up Kara raids were so much fun. You all gave me lifelong happy memories. Were the game then what it is now, we’d have been even greater than we were. Scourgebusters was a fun idea too, gone too soon. I do still play, though now on Area 52 (Pelerin, Visanya, etc.). I’ve dabbled in every xpac since.
  4. Ellorian strode into the Oribos inn filled with purpose and determination. It had taken what felt like days of searching, tracking down rumors of the man he sought only to come up with dead ends. Apparently a half elf with a chip on his shoulder was hard to find in the afterlife. If only it were so back on Azeroth. Further complicating matters was that the company had an office here, forcing the paladin to go undercover lest he be discovered and sent back to complete his treatment. A transmorphic tincture allowed Ellorian to become Ella, and a set of robes acquired from a Broker interested in his field rations combined with some hair dye to turn her crimson locks jet black had done well enough to keep the elf from being detected while making inquiries, but soon it would be time to move on. Ella scanned the occupied tables, her eyes settling on one in the corner where the occupant had a view of each entrance. The armor was recognizable from being seen on The House, Seasons Two and Three, and the Sanctuary tabard worn over the breastplate was enough to confirm that this was her contact. She approached warily and stopped a few steps away, waiting to be acknowledged. "It is good to see you, cousin," Mardalius said from within the helmet, the arcane glyphs that made up the face of 'Temp' moving as if speaking. His tone carried a hint of smugness, reflected in the slight smirk formed by the arcane lights dancing across the smooth face plate of his helm. "Though I don't understand why you're so obsessed with secrecy. You never were one for sneaking around. Or rather, you weren't any good at it." "I only got caught once, Mardy-moo," Ella sneered as she took her seat. "Just because your father was a bastard doesn't mean I didn't listen when he tried to play cool and teach us his spy tricks. At least I had the sense to wear something nondescript. Your armor is practically screaming 'Look at me! I'm a big shot!'" Before Mardalius could respond, a Broker arrived at their table bearing two glasses filled with a misty, clearish substance. "Your spirits," the Broker said before retreating to tend to other customers. The half elf picked up his glass and swirled it before pouring it into a micro-portal that materialized at the front of his helmet, just about where his mouth would be under the smooth plate, emptying the glass in a single draft, before sitting it back down firmly on the table. "Well, cousin, aren't you going to enjoy your drink?" Ella stared balefully at Mardalius for a long moment. "No. Do you have what I asked for or not?" "It's impolite to say no to a drink, Ellorian. Especially one bought for you by a long-estranged family member." The paladin huffed and made to stand. "I'm dry now, asshole. Just like you were. Thanks for wasting my time." Halfway out of her seat, she stopped and sat again as Mardalius produced a folder from air, conjuring it into being on the table between them. "I'm still dry, but through the power of transmutation I'm able to enjoy a drink now and again. A simple matter of changing the alcohol to something non-intoxicating. Not that you'd understand the intricacies, so I won't bore you with the details. I have the information you asked for, but I had to be sure that you were serious about this before I was comfortable giving it to you. As far as I've been able to gather, her soul was sent to Bastion, but there are things you need to know. If you find her, she may not remember you." The arcane glyphs covering the front of the helm twisted distastefully. "Part of the Kyrian ascension process removes the memories from a soul so that they may carry out their duties effectively. I'm also not entirely certain how helpful the Kyrian will be. Their secrets are difficult to penetrate without joining their ranks, and while you may have been attentive during Father's lessons, I never cared for that sort of work." Ella reached towards the folder, but was stopped by Mardalius' gauntlet coming to rest on top of it. "Now, for your payment for all the work I put into this. I, too, require information. If you catch wind of any of my human kin, you're to send word immediately. Do not engage them, do not seek to trap them and deliver them to me, simply send me whatever information you find. Do we have a deal?" "We have a deal." Mardalius lifted his gauntlet and Ella reached for the folder again, hesitating as her hand passed near the glass filled with that delicious, tempting alcohol. She shook her head firmly, reminding herself that this was too important to give in to that tantalizing numbness, and took the folder, then stood to leave. "Goodbye, Mardalius. And... thank you." The half elf watched his wayward cousin depart, the arcane glyphs standing in for his face unreadable despite the sorrowful expression contained behind his face mask. "Light guide you, Ellorian Bloodvow," he said softly, not knowing what would be worse: If Ellorian found Roxanna or if his search bore no fruit at all.
  5. My desperately avoiding spending time in this place seems to have led me to spending an inordinate amount of time in this place, whenever I can find the energy to bother to step through those portals, but in the interests of not falling to pieces -- again -- I have attempted to learn what I can. It stands in between me and where I want to be. I am not helped by not knowing exactly where I want to be, but a great deal of that is a certain rare comfortable quiet that I have built around me, making me reluctant to move forward. When you spend a great deal of time rewriting and reconstructing your memories in order to build your own identity, having someone tell you that you need to have them adjusted is infuriating. But while dealing with these people -- if we can even call them people -- has been an exercise in perpetual frustration, I do find myself learning from those who work against them. I am seeing a value in doubt I have not seen before. I have always been plagued with doubts, but I tend to keep them buried deep. I am seeing how others wear their certainty as their masks now, as I have often worn mine. Yet, there is an importance to continually questioning one's place and one's methods, and too much certainty leads down difficult paths. Certainty is best for manipulating others. Best to always appear as though you know exactly what you are doing if you are trying to convince anyone of anything. Doubt is a vulnerability, to be applied only in specific circumstances where appearing vulnerable will break resistance. In that vulnerability, however, is the means to break others' control, the means to thwart the certainty of others. It is also only through doubt that one can construct oneself to suit one's desires, rather than to the desires of others. Perhaps I should thank the Bronze -- and the Kyrian -- for the harm they've done to me, for the foundations they shredded that I might improve in the rebuilding. Though I would rather end them both, and will certainly not hesitate at such an opportunity.
  6. Earlier
  7. [[Updated to current]]
  8. It's time for another rousing Dating Auction, hosted by the magnificent Mozzi (Draq), the lovely Libelle (Sabeinne), the marvelous Mardalius (Mard, duh), and of course, the fantastic Phyruss (Cobrak)! It will be held at 5 PST/ 8 EST on Jan 23 in Sagehaven, Bastion. How does it work? We present the best and most bodacious of bachelors and bachelorettes, and bidders cast their gold to win time with them at the place of the bidder's choosing! It doesn't have to be romantic, it can be a friendly discourse or just a chance to meet someone you've never had a chance to talk with! (OOC contact should be considered to find out available times between the winning bidder and their date!) How do I audition to be auctioned off? Easy! Send the name of the character you want to be auctioned to one of our hosts (preferably in Discord--contact Sabeinne if you need help accessing the TNG Discord community), limit to one per player, along with a tagline what their likes/dislikes are, what their favorite hobby is, and where they would like to be whisked away to! What are the rules of the bids? We will be using in-game gold for bids. Beginning at the opening of bids, each potential bidder must offer a minimum of 25g per bid cast. Which means, opening bid is 25g, and you can increase your bid to 50, or 80, or 100, or whatever so long as it is more or equal to 25g. The auction for a person stops when either A) A Five count between bids occurs. B) Two minutes pass, in which case, highest current bid wins. C) The maximum bid total of 1,000g is reached. [If two or more bidders both go the maximum, break out the dice cause it's time for Boulder, Parchment, Shears!]
  9. Filthy water drips black and red into the basin. Delphinia grips the rim, feeling the cool metal press into her palms. Just breathe. She dips her head back under the spicket of warm water. Reaching out blindly, she grabs a washcloth off a nearby shelf, using it under the water to scrub ichor and dried blood out of her hair. She winces as she scrubs over gashes. The wounds on her head would need to be rebandaged, but the cleaning was necessary. The healer back at the cathedral had done a good job of cleaning her wounds out, and most of her skin had remained free of ichor and filth thanks to her armor, but her face and hair were a mess. After some soap and effort, she leaves the washcloth hanging over her head and begins cleaning her armor piece by piece. There wasn't much time for a thorough cleaning, but maybe her stomach would stop roiling if she could get the worst of the reek of undeath off. She leans out over the basin, trying not to soak her undershirt too badly--it would probably freeze solid the moment she stepped back outside. It was mercifully fairly warm in the washing chambers the Argents had set up around the Tourney Grounds to help stem the spread of disease from fighting the Scourge. And yet, Delphinia's hands still shake as she works a brush quickly across her leathers. So Didge knew she was alive. What had she expected, being so reckless? It didn't change anything, not really. "He felt bad that you ran away when you saw him." Delphinia's nails bite into the leather in her hands as Johann's words echo through her mind. Didge was strong, he'd get over it. He had already gotten over her death, he could learn to live with this. There was nothing else too it, nothing else that could be done, it wasn't as though she could make Didge unlearn that she was alive. Now Johann, Johann was a problem. She moves her armor pieces over to an elementally heated drying rack, taking a seat in front of it. Had he lied? Did he know the truth? It was possible that it was a coincidence, that the two mages had met by chance, like Johann had said. They were both mages, after all, of the same age; they likely moved in some similar social circles. In that case, the most important thing was making certain Johann--and by extension his family--didn't find out she was related to Didge. She just had to figure out a way to keep them apart. Her leg bounces as she watches her armor dry agonizingly slowly. There was another, worse possibility. That he knew. That Baur--or worse, Shadowvale knew. "One official document from a Knight-Commander can open doors typically secured." Isn't that what Alurea had said when they weaseled their way into finding out her private medical information? How many other carefully secured doors had they felt entitled to open? And worse, what would they do with that information? Was that the plan all along, to hold her secrets over her head and turn her into a pawn that could never disobey them? Would they threaten to hurt him? Her thoughts spiral out of control as she pulls her armor, half dried, off the rack. She just has to keep moving. There's work to be done, she needs to brief her men on the upcoming mission. In a few days she won't even be on Azeroth, far away from these problems. She shoves down the little thoughts nipping at her to run, to leave the Honorborn and her life behind, start new, anonymous, free of it all. No, the mission ahead is too important, and she has a responsibility to her men. Tugging on the last of her still slightly damp armor, she marches out into the frigid cold towards the Honorborn's pavilion.
  10. "Thank you... Kind soul...." Weakly hissed the freed spirit towards a small, snowy white Vulpera, who quickly stepped back into the crowd of Night Fae coming to greet the new spirits in their realm. Ghasty's lantern released the souls of numerous beings, their spirits forming into the visage of many Night Elves, Vulpera, And others. Freshly released into Ardenweald's care, the souls were more than desperate to finally be free of the Maw's grasp. Ardenweald had been clever to employ the efforts of the Soulthief, as denizens of the Maw quickly titled Ghasty for his... efficient way of navigating through high security areas undetected, stealing away soul after soul. His goal had been the same since he arrived; Steal as many souls from the Maw as possible, and he worked tirelessly towards it. A task many deemed impossible before the arrival of mortals in the Shadowlands was now in the tiny capable hands of one of the Night Fae's newest reinforcement, and as the fae greeted their new souls, few could even see the tiny rogue amidst the crowd. The ghostly look of Ghasty was still unmarred by even the Maw. His purple eyes looked something between tired and blank, giving off a cold calm expression. His fur, pristine as it was, practically glowed in the fae lights of the Heart of the Forest, the spots of inky blank dotting his shoulders, ears, and the base of his tail, which gently swayed from side to side. His enchanted gi was damaged, along with his plated armor pads, and yet he appeared uninjured still. Spikes broken on the knuckler gloves he wore, he had obviously been in the Maw for some time, and as such, stolen away many souls amidst his battles. He looked around, seeing the fae denizens of the Forest cheering at the flood of new souls, and knew the Winter Queen would be happy to hear of the innocents brought in. But Ghasty wasn't the type to search for thank you's. He attained his results, and after the souls were secured, he vanished from sight, leaving the pleasant heart to their revelry. It was time for Rest and Recreation, now. Ghasty knew this. Cleaning, rehydrating and eating enough to maintain his proper form, and most of all; Resting. For many, that meant sleep, but for Ghasty, it meant what it meant. Ardenweald had many peaceful havens yet, and the conservatory that Ghasty strode through was high up in the branches of one of the great trees. He knew he was safe here, however it did not change his methods. Alone, he would always keep his guard up, and not even the beautiful skies of Ardenweald could grant the security he needed to relax as others would. In his time, in and out of the servitude he was raised in, Ghasty knew little of sleep itself, as such things were rare. On his own, he could rest enough to recover and rejuvenate his energy... But strangely enough, he didn't 'sleep' per say.. For Ghasty, sleep was a luxury he simply could not afford. As he finished drying off after a much needed bath, it was time to maintenance his equipment. Starting with his weapons; energy as they were, they needed no sharpening, but rather mana. Ghasty used such to fortify the catalyst crystals he used, strengthening them once more, and discarding unneeded emotions to feed the shadow energy within. His element was a curious one. Ghasty was highly adept at the use of Shadow Magic, but had little magical knowledge. To him, these abilities were always like a limb of the body, simply there for his use. The lack of void and whispers also proved to be an anomaly, however it was one that allowed Ghasty to make his previous exploits against the forces of N'zoth, and before; the Drust. Despite the lack of written knowledge, Ghasty's abilities came naturally to him, and many more were linked with reflexes. It was almost like a symbiotic relationship; he fed his shadow energy with the mana of his hunted targets, and in turn his shadows aided him, hiding him from sight, and giving him the weaponry to dispatch enemies that pursued him still. As he tinkered away at his gear next, his thoughts began to wander. 'This path... Did I make the right choice?', the thought popped into his head, causing the tiny Vulpera to stop his work. It was a random thought, but one that resonated with him.. a valid question, considering the choices many made upon the Covenants requesting mortal aid. Ghasty looked up to the ever beautiful night sky, and wondered. 'You left servitude for yourself, and decided to associate with others rather than hide, amassing reputations and comrades... There have been many trials, and with them great pain... You have fought and killed when needed, and avoided it when possible. This lead you to the Shadowlands and secured numerous souls tearing them away from torment... The Maw ill allows for intruders, after all. And those who do venture through it face constant battles and death. However, unlike them, you have the ability to accomplish this task with greater efficiency. You kill quickly, recover souls, and escape... This is the best fulfillment of your skills... This path is sufficient, as it aims to improve the world around.' Ghasty reasoned, and answered the existential question silently. 'Do you enjoy it?' came another interrupting thought. The knee jerk response came up as quickly as the question, as Ghasty perked up silently while his mind barked in reply 'Of course not. Killing is neither fun nor is it enjoyable by its nature alone. Combat is an equation in war, with death as its biproduct. However, the solution brought many innocent souls from the Maw to their true place in the realms of death. 'Do you feel whole?' came again a pesky thought, the Vulpera shaking his head. 'Irrelevant. I have fulfilled my tasks... A vague feeling like self-fulfillment does not improve or multiply results.' His heart replied, coldly... His silent duel with his own mind only lasted a few seconds, in which time, the Vulpera looked over his gear, assessing the damage. As he shut down the questions, his mind quelled, thoughts refocusing on his tasks. For hours, Ghasty tinkered away, bringing his humble armor back to perfect condition. Despite its humble appearance, his gear was highly engineered, a skill he was taught by his adoptive father. It took some time, but eventually he managed to repair the inner workings of his gadgets, as well as the state of the armor that covered them. Seeing his task complete, Ghasty moved onto the next. 'Sleep'. For the few who saw him regularly, Ghasty appeared to sleep very often. Before he left for the Shadowlands, it was a common occurrence in Silvermoon for denizens to encounter Ghasty sleeping on a tavern sofa, some even complimenting the beautiful coat of fur he had upon him.. but few recognized Ghasty's slumber for what it was; an Act... A simulation... A ruse to lure others into a sense of comfort, using his small stature and harmless appearance to request a reprieve from the combat he often found himself drowning in. As he laid down within the small camp he had set up, Ghasty looked the part of a sleepy Vulpera. His tail coiled around his body, covering him in ghostly whites fur and a comforting warmth. His ears relaxed, and his eyes closed, but even as hours passed, Ghasty didn't sleep. Or rather, he couldn't sleep. He was alone here, and as such the only one for watch, a task that must always be completed... Sleep was a luxury, and something Ghasty didn't need like many other races. His body would slow as he laid down, bringing rest like sleep would, but without dreams or a state of vulnerability. So, there he laid, motionless and cloaked with a thin layer of his magic, concealing him from sight, even within his own tent.. All was silent, all was still, and a hard fought peace was earned... But for Ghasty, there was no upheaval of joy or excitement. He did not wish to read, practice the instrument he was given, or socialize, as all required action and effort. He simply laid there in his tent, invisible to the world, entirely alone.. 'Are you happy?' came a whisper, this one outside of the pesky heart that questioned him before. An unfamiliar voice whispering from seemingly nowhere, a tactic Ghasty often used to corner prey. Ghasty's eyes to shot open. Though the grove remained silent, something was strange. Vying to sense whatever spoke, the invisible Vulpera moved from his tent, beginning to stalk the conservatory. The high alert he set upon was silent, focused, lethal... But as Ghasty searched the conservatory for signs of infiltration, he found nil. 'Is this what makes you happy?' came another whisper. Without a word or even a visible body to examine, Ghasty had gone from rest mode to work mode. He focused, listening intently, sensing what he could, waiting to strike... 'What makes you happy?' came another whisper, and with it, Ghasty drew his weaponry and whipped around, his senses finally picking something up... His soulkeeper... Producing the magical lantern and activating it, a small soul left it, landing on the beautiful flora that decorated the haven grounds. It was a elven woman, her form knelt down into a sitting state, a hint of worry on her face. She had been rescued, but did not leave with the other souls.. instead, as her form revealed itself, she tilted her head, looking around for the unseen Ghasty. '...I am no threat... I only ask..' she announced in a tone that sounded sleepy, and gloomy. "Identify yourself. Why did you ask such things?" Ghasty blankly interrogated, his shadowy voice sounding grim and unnaturally multi-toned. He was still invisible to his target, who showed no way of tracking him. He assessed her from a distance, ready to react as needed. The Elf sighed and folded her hands upon her thighs, showing she had nothing to hide. "I am sorry... Little one... I did not mean to startle you... I was... Worried..." She announced. Her form was spectral, but she had long, beautiful hair, and a fair figure. She looked shorter, and less muscular than some night elves did. As she explained herself, she did not move from her spot. She simply waited for an answer. After an awkward silence, the ghostly form of Ghasty appeared before her upon silent footfalls. "You were being tortured for an unknown time in the Maw. Your soul has been tormented greatly. Why did you choose to stay within the soulkeeper when you were released?" Ghasty asked, his blank tone coming off almost demanding as he approached. In one hand, a small crystal hilt with a barely visible spectral blade protruding from it. The other held an orbit of dark, glass-like stone, charged with shadow energy. He was still on alert, and the elf picked up on it. "Please... I mean no harm, little one... I ask, because the one who rescued me appeared troubled..." She calmly pleaded. Her voice was soft, gentle as she looked. Taking no time for another interrogation from the Vulpera, she asked her question once more. "You, who spent much time within the same torment as I... You return to it time and time again, repeating the task of taking others away from it... Does that make you happy?" "Irrelevant. Those souls, yours included were improperly sorted, causing you torment you did not earn. My happiness is not a concern in comparison to emergency rescue operations." Ghasty answered, only to see the night elf sigh. "I was tormented, until you took me away from it.. I wished to thank you, but have nothing I could give... So I remained with you, rather than passing on, hoping I could find a way to repay you.. But... You have done the same thing over and over again... You follow a pattern, almost like you were possessed... It did not seem natural, so I worried.." she explained. Ghasty slowly but surely approached the night elf as she spoke. His weapons leaving his hands to float in orbit around him, he listened as she explained herself. "They call you Soulthief in the Maw. You are targeted frequently, and each battle is more lethal than the last.. so many times I worried you would be overwhelmed by it. But you keep fighting, you keep moving, and no matter how dark everything has gotten, you've shown no change in your face... Truth be told, I simply cannot read you..." She confessed. "I was trained early to fight and protect others. My abilities compliment my profession and increase efficiency above the normal rate. By such standards, I am most effective at my current appointed task, and continuing it brings more souls to rest. I am simply performing my duty at optimal levels." Ghasty explained, and the wordiness of it caused the night elf spirit to grimace. "But... Are you happy?" She asked once more. "Irrelevant. I am efficient, and combat capable, and hold better capacities for re-appropriating souls than many others of my caliber. Performing my duties---" Ghasty started before he was interrupted by the night elf. "-You speak like gnomish machinery, little one... But you do not need to feel like such. You haven't slept, you rarely eat, you haven't stayed with anyone, or gotten close to others of your kind... You've simply been taking souls away from the Maw and disappearing before anyone could thank you.. Your face tells so little, I worry that you merely try to fulfill yourself with a list of tasks you checked off, and nothing more..." She explained. Ghasty tilted his head. Was she.... Complaining about his task of rescuing souls? "There are many souls trapped within the Maw that have no place there. If left there, obliteration is unavoidable, and the soul is lost. Priority one dictates that I remove souls from that cycle... Is that problematic?" He asked, noting a sense of annoyance from the elf, who sighed again in response. "Your duty is not problematic to me, or anyone else you rescued, little one.. However I worry that you do not take enough care of yourself... At first, I thought your Horde allegiance to be the reason. But you are not filled with the zeal or fanatical dedication that I have seen within their kind... So, I will ask you. What makes you happy, little one?" She asked once more, this time finally causing Ghasty to stop and think. "I do not feel enjoyment from combat... I feel... successful when I take souls from the Maw. It... Feels... Like the correct use for my abilities... So I continue.." Ghasty explained, pausing frequently as he pieced the words together. All the talk of feeling was exhausting for him, but this answer appeared to sate the hungering question from the elf. Slowly, she stood, looking around the conservatory before strolling to a dormant wildseed. Looking back to Ghasty "You, who have no home dedicate your life to saving souls you will never see... All because it is the right thing to do, you say.... Had I met Horde of your like, perhaps I would not have loathed your kind as much as I did in life..." She started. "It is time for me to go... But I ask one thing of you, little one... Please... Find peace, and happiness within your life. That is my wish..." She said before a flash of light overtook her form. After a brief moment, she was gone, leaving a faintly glowing wildseed upon the ground. As Ghasty approached, he pondered her words... Placing a hand on the wildseed, he spoke once more. "I will continue my duties as selected... The task of a Soulthief fits my skillset optimally... After all... There were many on Azeroth who were killed in atrocious ways... For both your kind, as well as my own... I wish to find them... all of them... and tear them from that fate..." He replied, his cold tone showing broken pieces of relief... And so, silence returned to both the conservatory, as well as Ghasty... His stay was short, as usual... But resulted in a more fulfilled feeling of rest...
  11. MONTHLY ROUNDUP - Jan. 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 January 2021: Write a story that tells why your character ended up in the Shadowlands covenant that they did! If your character didn't go to the Shadowlands, write a story of them reacting to the news about people going to the Shadowlands. Head over here to get started: WINNER! Nov. 2020: Dinner with the family by Tahzani! Tahz won this month's raffle with a story told from the perspective of his character's parents. I really enjoyed getting into Selris's headspace, and while I won't spoil it, the ending made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. A few excerpts I enjoyed: " What was a feast to a man who barely ate? What was snow to a man who hardly felt the cold? In these times he rarely felt the spirit that everyone else was infused with." "For his own sanity and hers, he had thrown himself into a new task of preparing the small feast for the two, hopefully three, of them. If nothing else the chopping blade demanded your focus. Vegetables were diced, almonds slivered, potatoes chopped, steamed and mashed and mixed with an unhealthy amount of butter." ""He's not coming." Selris finally murmured, setting the bowl down with a resolute thunk. His wife would look up and narrow her eyes, silently demanding an explanation." Check out Dinner with the family here: 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! Jan. 2020: RAELANA DEBERGERAC Some fun bits about Sorel: "Race: Blood Elf Gender: Female Hair: Auburn Skin: pretty pale, but slightly tanned from working on the farm Eyes: Green" "Likes: teaching various skills to her two squires, Elanor and Galaban; food; exploring Favorite Foods: A total foodie, she likes pretty much everything. But prefers surf and turf Favorite Drinks: Any champagne" "Raelana was found on the side of the road in Eversong Woods, left for dead. Barely breathing, she was carried to the infirmary in Silvermoon City by some local traders. When she awoke, she had no memory of who she was, where she was from, or what her name was. " Check out more about Raelana here:
  12. Oof, I started playing around then, but I don't recall. You should try asking around the Discord--it's pretty active and there may be folks there who remember!
  13. Once upon a 2007, I played WoW religiously with a dedicated group of Alliance in the RP guild The Hidden Palm. If I remember the names correctly, they were: Rashi (Druid), Silas (Rogue?), Kinniticus (Warlock), and a priest who's name started with an "S". I'm hoping some of these people still play and check these forums. I was the Paladin Darkhammer, and I played with the guild around 2007-2008. Anyone have any insights into these players and/or their whereabouts?
  14. Delphinia. The name cuts through Digitalis like a knife and the wound it leaves bleeds guilt. She was probably out there still, alone, with the Scourge running rampant. But then again, maybe not, the warrant had said she killed a man in Shattrath, so maybe she wasn't even on Azeroth. That was probably right, she was probably there, far away from all this madness. Still, he glances over his shoulder and scans the crowd in the Cathedral for the woman that apparently shares his sister's name. He sinks a little into the cot he was kneeling on, his arms still wrapped around his beloved Navarre, while his good friend Johann sits with Kayrisa, Johann's sister, on the cot next to them. "Delphinia?" He couldn't help but ask. "A bit of an odd name, isn't it? But an odd woman, so I guess it fits." Johann shakes his head. "I don't know a lot about her, but she did help my father when she didn't have to. So there's some trust through that alone. Maybe--Should I go try to find her? Help her out?" "It is a rather unique name, though we have quite a few interesting names in this group alone." Dear, sweet Navarre gives Johann a concerned look. "Is that wise? To go out after her? Should I go with you?" "It's not that odd of a name. There are loads of people with tha' name... probably." Talis protests, since his sister, Delphie, couldn't be the one Johann was talking about. After all, the warrant had also said the man his sister killed was once the squire to Johann's father, and yet Johann just said that his Delphinia helped his father. What's more, Johann's father was Knight-Commander of the same Brotherhood that had put out the warrant on Delphie in the first place. They would hate each other. It wouldn't make sense, and yet worry tugs at him anyway. "You said she looked hurt?" "I only caught a quick look, but definitely looked bloody. Could've been mostly ghoul bits. Maybe." Johann sighs. "I just feel kind of obligated, I guess. And no one should be fighting alone out there." "If you go, take someone with you, Johann. No one should be fighting alone applies to you, too." Navarre keeps his arms around Talis. "Myself or her or anyone else, really." Talis sinks into his thoughts, breaking out of the warm comfort of Navarre's arms. Even if the woman Johann was talking about wasn't Delphie, she could still be hurt out there--fighting alone. It had been a strange rollercoaster of emotions this last year with worrying for his sister. When she had disappeared years ago, he had held out hope longer than anyone that she was still alive. It had been a strange mixture of horror and jubilation when he had discovered she was still alive. Walking through the square, seeing a strangely familiar face staring out at him--from a wanted poster calling for her arrest and execution. It was odd, finding out someone he had grieved for years ago was in mortal danger now. And then, on finding she was alive, he began to wonder why she had never come to find him. He was a noble, on public records and lists, he often ran charity events that were open and advertised. If his sister had wanted to find him, it would have been simple for her. If she had wanted to find him. Why didn't she want to find him? Delphie, on the other hand, left little trail to follow. Even the Brotherhood of the Sword, with their warrant for her execution couldn't find her. He knew, because when corruption within the organization of Knights was found, he had used his position as a clerk of the Keep and a member of the House of Nobles to get a position on the audit against the Brotherhood. But strangely, by the time he got his hands on Delphie's warrant, it had already been voided and cancelled. There was no note on why her sentence had been lifted, which raised a great deal of questions for Talis, but not ones he dared to ask anyone lest he draw attention to it. It being voided meant she was safe from the Brotherhood, which was what mattered. But a voided warrant wouldn't protect her from the ravages of the Scourge. Johann's voice pulls him out of his fretting. "Um, Talis? I don't have to go if you're worried. Delph can handle herself." "No, no, it's not that." He pushes down the worry with a wave of his hand. Delphie could handle herself too, after all. "It's the name, it just reminds me of someone I used to know." "Oh? You knew someone else named Delph?" Johann looks puzzled. "Well, her last name is Acontis, if that helps. Maybe your families knew of one another?" "Yes, it was Delphinia Acontis. And she’s hard headed about showing signs of weakness." Kayrisa sighs. “She’ll shrug off most things, but I’m worried for her if you said it was bloody. Never know what mess these undead might carry that could get into her.” She looks towards the door. "Do we know where she might of ran off too?" Every word after Acontis was barely more than buzzing in Talis's ears. Delphie. His sister was here, and alive, and his friends knew her somehow? A flurry of emotions well up in him at once, sadness, guilt, joy. She was terribly hard headed, wasn't she? Hadn't their older brother Olly once said he thought her skull was solid stone? He laughs and tears spill out over his cheeks. He files away a hundred questions in his head as he stammers out a reply. "That's... that's Delphie. I can't believe--" Suddenly, concern grips him. Johann said she was hurt. "--You should make sure she's alrigh'." "Delphie?" Johann blinks, looking confused and surprised. "So you do know her?" “Hmmm. Might have to gather oranges before we meet her.” Kayrisa muses. "Oranges?" Navarre sounds confused, and scoots closer to Talis who reaches out for a hug, the lad's familiar warmth a welcome comfort as Talis's heart breaks. The word brings him back to another time, years ago, sitting in a similar place. Delphie, covered in bandages, her fingers lacking the strength to even peel the rind from the fruit, needing help from him for a change. The way she had smiled and laughed despite the tears in her eyes as they ate together. Talis lets himself cry at the memory for a moment in Navarre's arms. "I did. A long time ago. Oranges... because they make her feel better? Like... like when we were children?" "But she's older than--Did she babysit you or something?" Johann questions. Navarre holds the smaller man tightly, burying his face in his curly hair. "How long is a long time ago, dear?" "We... we haven't spoken since afore the wall fell." Talis buries his face in Navarre's chest, weighing risk and honesty. These were his friends, he could trust them with this. "I... haven't been completely honest, loves. But... if I tell you the truth, do you swear not to tell a soul?" "Your secrets are safe with me, darling," Navarre says softly, drawing circles into Talis' back with his hand. "Not a single other person. Promise," Johanna answers with an even more serious expression than usual. "I'm a bastard." He admits softly. "Lord Belgrave is my father but my mum was a uhm... a lady of the night. My father has done all he could to cover it up so that nobo'y could contest my title; especially since most of the documents that might prove my parentage were lost when Gilneas fell. But I spent most of my childhood living with my mum's family. Being raised by my half-sister--Delphie." "That doesn't change a single thing about you, but it does help to explain some." Talis can't see Navarre's face, but he can hear the tone of his voice, warm and soft like melted butter. "Somewhere along the line, your father needed an heir and found out about you? Not to say this makes you any less a nobleman." "Delph has a--you're her brother?" Johann sounds flabbergasted, though he quickly shakes it off. "And Navarre's right. You're you, no matter the manner of your birth, and your father's a good man for standing up for you." Talis snuggles further into Navarre's embrace with a little whimper, nodding in agreement at the questions. "Mother never had a child of her own, so when my father found out about me, he took me as his heir." He looks up at his dear friends through tear-blurred eyes. "Thank you. You're my best mates. I don' know that everyone in the House of Nobles woul' agree though." "My family hasn't had our title for long, so it's not like they're accepting of me either." Navarre reaches forward, wiping at the tears with his finger. A true bro. "Nobody else is going to find out about this though and if they do, they can answer to me. They already don't like me so it won't matter if they dislike me more." Talis manages to work up a smile as Navarre brushes away his tears. Guilt quickly chases it away. "An' even worse, Delphie's probably hurt and not in here gettin' treated because she saw me and ran off." His voice chokes and he buries his face back into Navarre. It made sense, she'd avoided him for this long. "Not your fault. She's skittish in general. But, if you're worried, we'll go find her." Johann addresses him in a soft soothing tone before turning to Kayrisa. "Do you all still have radios?" Kay nods to Talis, “Your secret is safe with me. Though I must warn you. Once your a friend of mine your like family to me,” finishing with a smile. She pulls out the radio. “Aye I do. Do you want to make the call or me?” "Um. Maybe you can start it, and then we'll add in as needed?" Johann's voice is uncertain. "Hmmm," She clicks the radio and speaks, "Boss Lady Delphinia? Where you might be? I wish to meet you in person." She looks at the others with a shrug, mouthing 'I hope this works.' Talis turns to stare at the radio in her hand with bated breath. How long had it been since he and his sister had spoken? Years, not since that night on the roof. He had thought the argument they had was trivial then. That they would just meet again in a week, like always. An eternity seems to pass before the machine crackles to life and Talis has to clap a hand across his mouth to keep from crying out. "Cathedral square. Preparin' to return t' Icecrown." Delphie. This was Delphie speaking. Her voice sounded strange, but it was her. Johann lowers his voice to a whisper in hopes the radio will not pick it up. "Ask her if she can meet up with Honorborn in the Cathedral first. Get check ups, and then you can all head back together." Another voice, a strange man, comes through the radio next. "You here restockin' too, boss? I was thinkin' of headin' back out now I got them kids safe, but iffin we's needed in Icecrown, sign me up." "The guard has it from here. More work t' be done in Icecrown." "Yer the boss, boss. I'll finish up restockin' bullets an' come meet up with ya." It's not until the strange man on the radio speaks a second time before Talis registers what Kayrisa said. Boss? She's their boss? She's doing alright then? He tucks the information away for later. Kayrisa nods at Johann, clicking on the radio, “Could you make it up to the Cathedral and make sure everyone in the group is fixed up before heading up?” Talis grips his own knees as he waits for the response, which takes awhile to come. She knows I'm here, she's trying to think a way out. If she comes in and sees me, she'll probably just leave again. He chews his lip. "Yeh. In a few minutes." His heart jumps into his throat, looking around for a good place to run off to in the Cathedral. His sister would be here in just a few moments. "Should I leave?" Talis mouths. "I should leave." Johann shakes his head and mouths back, "hide," before pointing to the area under the cot. Talis looks dubiously at the hiding place before scooting quickly into it--who knows how little time he had to make himself scarce, after all. Navarre helps him shuffle under with a kiss on the forehead and a gentle whisper in his ear. "Should I stay with you?" A kiss is pressed into Navarre's cheek in return, along with a gentle shake of Talis's head as a response. He wanted desperately the comfort of his beloved friend by his side, but feared the hiding place would be barely enough to hide his small self alone. A few moments of Navarre shuffling his position and the blankets above, and only a small strip is left visible for Talis to peek out of. He's not sure if its the nerves or if it really is taking much longer than a few minutes would imply, growing restless as he tries to glimpse anything out of his tiny view. How upset would she be if she discovered this ploy? If she noticed him under the cot? How angry was she with him to begin with, to avoid him for so long? He fidgets with his enchanted rings, spinning them around his fingers as he waits with his thoughts in the small, dark space. It's Kayrisa's voice that breaks his musing. He props himself up a little, trying to see. "Oh thought you didn't see us. Thought I would ask if there is anything you require of us with the current situation." Kay says sheepishly, "You know I can't lie, I was worried about you. Wanted you to be patched up before your next mission." First a snarl greets his ears, and then legs--not human legs, worgen--come into view. Of course, that's why her voice sounded so strange on the radio. He had known from the wanted poster that she was a worgen now, but something about it still felt jarring. Her voice was much rougher than it should be, and he could hear where the shape of her muzzle affected her accent. "Worryin' abou' me is not your job. I'm fine. I can patch myself up an' not bother the healers. And loike I says on the radio, the situation 'ere is under control." "You can, but the healers will do it faster and make sure you can fight longer," Johann interjects. "My mom was a paladin and could heal wounds on her own. Still consulted priests when a wound was really bad or when she needed to get back out on the field quickly. That's their expertise, so why not use it?" Another growl, and a pause. Talis can hear clopping hoofsteps of someone else moving towards them. "I need a quick healin'." "How many Honorborn are here? Have they all reported in?" Light Bless Johann for trying to make casual conversation with what sounded like a very irate worgen. "Thank you for listening." Kayrisa says with a sigh of relief. “Looking for someone?” Talis wonders what prompted the question. Had Delphie been looking around before she came over? Looking for him, or maybe just for her men? She was the boss after all, apparently. Of the... Honorborn? They had mentioned that word a few times, and he makes a mental note to remember it. And Delph, they seemed to call her Delph. He supposed that made some sense, after all, nobody had called him by his childhood nickname, Didge, in years. "I've put eyes on the lot of them, if no' checked in. Speakin' of, you two check in wi' your da' yet?" Delphie snaps, and Talis watches her move closer to his hiding spot. His heart skips a beat. "No, I'm no' lookin' for nobody, why? ...Can I sit 'ere or is someone else usin' this?" After years and with the worgen form affecting her voice, Talis didn't think he'd still be able to hear when Delphie was lying, when she was working a con. But he could hear it on those last sentences. She was trying to work them. She must have seen Talis when she came in earlier, and she was trying to get them to admit he had been there. To establish if he was coming back. She had been looking for him, because she knew he was here somewhere. Johann mumbles something Talis can't quite make out. “No we have not gotten in touch with Tonric. I’ll try and do so after we make sure you’re patched up.” Kayrisa's voice comes in clearer. Suddenly, there's a creaking all around him and a weight pushes down at the foot of the cot. Delphie had taken a seat. Talis wriggles up to be more underneath where Navarre is sitting, and catches a glimpse of a healer's robe through his small view. "The mask stays on." Delphie sounded very irritated. "It's just zat you look to be bleeding, perhaps?" A strange new voice, likely whoever the healing robes belonged to. "It stays. on." The entire cot shakes slightly as Delphie bounces her leg. She's anxious about something. "This is the worst one, I think, it might bleed a bi' once the pressure's off. You ready?... HRRRNNGGH." Talis was not ready, and jumps, almost smacking his head into Navarre's behind above him. Delphie attempts stifle the pained noise and fails, leaning back suddenly, rocking the cot. "Awrigh', awrigh', tha' was a bi'--a bi' worse than I though'. Ah, fuck." The young man stares with deep concern at where his sister is likely half-sprawled on the cot above. "Um. So. How is Dad? I haven't seen him in a while." Maybe it wasn't so bad of an injury, Johann sounded like he was attempting to have a normal conversation. “Heck Delph, you were hurt,” alright, so Kayrisa made it sound bad, “No shame in getting he-,” she stops suddenly but continues, “No point in stating the obvious. Wish I had an orange to give you to relax you.” "Ffff-fuck if I know. Bein' a light's damned p-prick is 'ow he is. 'e was on the radio earl-OW... earlier. So alive." Delphinia made it sound like the wound was bad as well, breaths hissing out in pain. Talis twists his rings, worried, considering getting out just to try and help somehow. "Wot--who told you abou' th-the oranges?" There was anxiety there too, hidden under the snapping jaws and the pain. “You hidden yourself when you had major injuries in the past. Me and Lu found your hiding spot. The nice lady there told me. I don’t recall her name. Now sit still, and let the healer work.” Kayrisa snaps back. "Is he here? In Stormwind?" Johann starts and then stops himself. "Sorry. You're not his messenger, I know. Just-- Just get fixed up." "Wound iz deep. You have extenzive bruising under fur as well. You are injured other places likely, yes? Remove rest of armor." The healer demands. "No." There's a deep anger in Delphinia's voice. "Larna? Sh-she told you... wha' else did she tell you abou' me, you li'le brat? She's not supposed to say nuffin' abou' my past to nobody." Talis's mouth opens in surprise. Larna. Larna Selbrin? Did that mean Larna knew Delphie was alive? He had worked with the healer often, helping raise money for her organization; Selbrin's House of Healing for Alchemical and Magical Addiction. Was that the hiding spot Kay had mentioned? Tears prick at the corners of Talis's eyes as he realizes Larna must have been keeping his sister's existence a secret from him. He had just seen her earlier, she had treated his own wounds. "You vill calm and be healed, or I vill have you sedated." He hears the much less familiar healer above warn Delphie, followed by a few pained noises. "Hey! Kay doesn't deserve that," the usually nervous Johann reprimands. "We know you're hurt, and that sucks, but that doesn't mean you get to be a bitch to people just looking out for you." “She could have told me lots about you. But she just told me little. I know you’ve been alone in this world and you had to watch your own back. But your our boss now. You have a family of brothers and sisters that worry for you in Honorborn. You’re no good to us if you pass out on the field because of your pride. Pride can get yourself killed without you knowing it’s slowly pushing that dagger into you.” Talis feels his hear sink a little at Kayrisa's speech. He was Delphie's family. He should have been watching her back. "She's not lookin' out for me. She's just a bloody busybody loike your fuckin' da'. Honorborn t'ain't a family it's a job. I do my job an' look out for my men, and I look out for myself 'cause I can't trust nobo'y else. I don' care abou' anybo'y and they don' care abou' me an' tha's the way things should be." Pauldrons, gloves and bracers clatter to the ground around the cot. "Pretty sure you're wrong about that last part. Dad cares about you. Kay does. And you don't get to decide they shouldn't." I care too, Talis mouths uselessly under the cot as Johann speaks. "Now maybe you should settle in like the healer said and try to relax." Kayrisa's frown is so deep he can hear it. “Alright. You don’t trust me huh? Don’t trust your men. Tonric? At least him maybe? Grow up and look around Delphinia. For the first time you have a family. How do we earn your trust? Can we? Can we ever?” "No. Fuck you." The steeled edge of Delphie's voice wavers for a moment and threatens to crack, on the edge of tears. "You don' know me. You sit there an' say tha' I never--I never..." Theres a long pause, her voice coming back in softer. "You're righ'. I never had a family, an' I never will. I'm jus' a stupid, prideful bint." Talis stares at the armor laying on the ground in his view, thick ghoulish ichor dripping off the leather and pooling on the ground with fresh, bright blood. The sight blurs, and he blinks the tears out of the way. It was a lie, she was lying. He frowns, his brow furrowing. She had never told them about him, she was just trying to keep them from knowing about him. She didn't actually feel like they were never family. He knew it was a lie, it had to be a lie. Right? He puts a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. "No, you've had a family. No use hiding that. Not going to argue about the rest." Johann sighs. "You think all her wounds are out now?" “We all are stupid bints Delphinia. I’m not the sharpest. I’m not going to fight you on this anymore. Like it or not, I’m a pesky flea. Im just a dumb girl who picks people with trouble pasts to latch on to.” Kay attempts to lighten the mood with humor. Johann's sister seemed like she could be very nice, why was Delphie so insistent on refusing her friendship? “Hugs, after all, are my main attack. That’s how I crack through the emotional armor to get too the good in people. Yum, tasty goodness.” "Miss Delphinia," Navarre's soft, comforting voice sounds just above him, "I don't think that's the right attitude to looking at this. Even if you say you never had a family doesn't mean you never will. Now, I don't know you very well, so I don't want to make any assumptions, but it does sound like you already have people who care about you like you were a part of their families." "An' wha' the fuck is tha' supposed to mean, Johann? No use hidin' wha'?" Delphie is practically growling with anger. "Why do everyone act loike havin' a family is somefin' I want. I don't. You don' jus' get to decide wha' you think it's best for me an' whevver you can jus' foist yourself on me. Tha's for me an' me alone to decide." The words seem almost pointed to Talis, direct. Maybe Delphie knew he was there, maybe she was speaking to him directly. She doesn't want you. If you come out, you'll just be foisting yourself on her. His shoulders shake as the tears roll quietly down his cheeks. “Yep hard headed she is. Let me ask you. Why accept Honorborn’s leadership? You sure to have known your role will lead to dreaded mingling with others, which would lead to friendships and even worse you might even find a best friend. You didn’t mind idle chit chat as we wash our clothes that one day with everyone. If you really wanted to be alone you would have buggered off with your chore quickly. Face it Delphinia. You’re not a lone wolf anymore. You’re part of us now. We care for you even if you don’t give two shits about us.” "Yeah. You can decide not to talk to your family. Can push them away, say you don't need them or want them. But that doesn't make them stop being your family. But this? This is the kind of family you make on your own. Not the one that was pushed on you. Sometimes that's better." Johann's words are oddly reminiscent of the last time Talis had spoken to Delphie. They had argued about family then too. He remembers how hurt she looked when he had insisted that he didn't consider her da' family. Wasn't she the one insisting that they were all family, no matter what then? How could she forgive that terrible man, but not the little brother she had been so close to? But then again, she had run from her da' too, only calling him family again after he was dead. "Miss Loken I invite you t' grow up an' learn the concept of a job. There's a difference 'tween havin' an idle cha--AAGH!" There is suddenly a great deal of movement and snarling on the cot above, and Talis is forced to break from his introspection for a moment to hold on to the leg of the cot. "Fuck off, fuck off. I don' want your shi' family. You sit there an' lie to me while your da' treats me wif no respect an' someone I did trust apparently betrayed me. But you jus' sit there an' preach to me abou' family loike you even know anyfin' about me." "We know a little. We'd know more if you'd let anyone get even vaguely close." Kay sounds confused, “What did he do to disrespect you? Who is this other? Can we help?” "All he does is talk down t' me. An' why don' you tell me who betrayed my trust? Or do you go' some explanation wha' business you lot got talkin' to a Gilnean noble? I saw you." Talis wipes his eyes uselessly, staring up at where his sister's angry voice spat the words. So she had definitely seen him, and chose to leave. "That's--That has nothing to do with you." Johann says. "He's a friend I met one night when studying in a tavern. We get along, and he helped me get a job. Not that that's any of your business." There's a long pause. Talis twists his rings and chews his lip. "Where did he go?" Delphie asks sharply. There's a small pause, but not enough for Johann to respond. "You can't see 'im anymore." Talis's jaw drops a bit in horror at the sudden demand. “Why not? What has he done not be interacted with?” Kayrisa's disapproves. "It's 'is family. House Belgrave. They're bad news, I know, because the Acontis's an' thems got some history. You're no' safe around 'im, especially if they find out yous associated wi' me." "That sounds like their problem. I'm not going to throw away a good friend because there might be trouble for some old reason. Talis is a good person. I trust him." Johann's words lift Talis's heavy heart a bit, and he presses a hand across it. "Ligh', you're jus' like your da'. Never fuckin' listen." Suddenly Delphie is leaning over, and Talis can see her clawed hands as she unbuckles her boots. The motion does a pretty good job of hiding the nervous tic in her hands--for anyone who doesn't know what to look for. Talis watches her ring finger tap against the inside of her palm as she works out the lie she's telling. She's panicking. "These people will kill you." “Hey I once thought every damn death knight was bad news. Surprise, there a hand few that are alright that I’ve meet over the years. Most have short tempers and can bury me without a second thought for hugging them. Hell, look who we asked to help Ally and Shimmy to get the help they both needed! Not every person is a bad guy,” Kay sighs, “Look I understand there’s history between you and them. At least meet the man before damning him to heckville!” "Is that what happened to you?" Johann asks. "Did someone in the Belgrave family try to kill you?" Of course not. 'The Belgrave family' is just father and I. The absolute absurdity of the question almost manages to bring a smile to Talis's lips. "Yes." She answers quickly. "It's no' about him, personally. It's the family. They're dangerous an' they hate me wi' a furious passion." Talis stares in shock at Delphie doubling down on the lie. He shuffles himself indignantly to the side, putting his mouth to the small opening and mouthing 'lying' for Johann to see. "Why do they hate you?" "Because of somefin' I did a long time ago. The point is tha' you need to stay away from them, an' make sure they don' ever find out you know me." Delphie's tone is pleading, almost desperate. She wants them to believe this ridiculous lie so badly. "Can't promise that, Delph. Sorry." Johann brushes off the plea. "Maybe it's time to make peace with whatever happened back then. So everyone can start moving forward." "You don' understand! They's not goin' to 'make peace with it.' Wha' I did was unforgivable! I-I- I killed someone!" Delphie's agitation grows into a shout, and then a pause, and a shaking breath, her voice falling. "...I killed someone." "... who did you kill, Delph?" Johann asks softly. No. No, don't ask her that. "...his mum." Her voice sounds broken, hollow. "I killed his mum." No, no, no, that's a lie! She was our mum. You wouldn't! It's a lie... why doesn't it sound like a lie? "Oh." Johann draws a shaky breath. "That's--I know that feeling. Dad didn't kill Mom, but he did. It's-- What happened, Delph?" "No. Wha' your da' did was an act of mercy. Wha' I did was..." Delphie trails off, pained. What you did was all you could. You couldn't save her, but you must have tried as hard as you could. Whoever murdered her hurt you, or took you, that's why you disappeared when she died. I know you would have tried to save her. You must have. "Delph. You can talk to us. It sounds like you've kept this buried a long time." "I mean... I've killed plen'y of people. It's part of my job. It's not... It's not different. Why woul' it be different?" Delphie struggles to regain some sense of composure. Back to the point, to the lie, to keeping Talis away from her. "The point is... the point is you need to stay away from the Belgraves. He can't know... they can't know abou' me." "Well. Um." Johann takes a long breath. "That--I'm sorry. They already know you're alive. At least Talis does." Immediately panic overtakes Delphie's voice with a jolt that shakes the cot a tiny bit. "Wha' does that mean? Wha' did you tell 'im? Wha' did he say?" Curled up on his side now, Talis raises his head off the tear-wetted floor to listen to his sister's panic, when a new voice he doesn't recognize joins the group. "Is everyone alright?" Delphie jumps a little at the new voice, clawing her way out of her panicked hole as she tries to return to business. The new voice must belong to one of her men. "Ah, um.. yeah, yeah, everyone's fine. Jus' gettin' a little patched up." "He--He felt bad that you ran away when you saw him, and he was worried about you getting hurt." Johann explains. Beneath the cot Talis hugs his knees to his chest a little tighter as guilt washes over him. "You're certain Talis is worried for Delph's well being?" Kayrisa asks. "Fuck." Delphie mutters softly. "He wasn't supposed to know.. He shoul' think I'm dead. It's all... It's all supposed t' be easier tha' way. Stupid, sloppy, reckless... He'll be fine. He... he wasn't hurt too bad, righ'? He'll be fine." Talis isn't quite sure what he had expected. Anger that keeping him in the dark had failed? She had always had a temper. Disappointment? Revulsion? But Delphie just sounds worried. Worried, frightened, and sad. She sounds half like she's talking to herself, repeating her words like she did when she was panicked or thinking too fast. And she cares. She cares that he was hurt. If she wanted nothing to do with him, why does she care? "This looks private." The newcomer sounds uncertain about the situation she just walked into. " Should I go back to Northrend and keep Brick from trying to shag me Da?" "No, no Myria. I'm 'eadin' to Northrend myself once I ge' my armor back on." Delphie's voice is stiff and distant as she tries to get her emotions back under control. "He wasn't badly hurt." Johann explains. "We watched out for each other on the ride over here. And, um, he could tell you that himself, if you want. He's--He's not far away." "I'm... glad he's awrigh'." She struggles over the words, her voice threatening to crack again. “Keep an eye on her Myria. Don’t let her over extend herself up there in Northrend. I’m going to stay behind and kick Dad’s butt for being an ass to Delphinia,” Kay says to the newcomer, Myria, before turning back to Johann, “Want to come help?” "Your da' is goin' the same place I am." Delphinia stands up, her voice hardening again. A new job, a new focus, something less filled with pain and worry. "Didn' you 'ear the radio? The Alliance is rallyin' people to go into the Shadowlands themselves through the tear in the Icecrown sky." "Do I have long enough to do a head count on the kids?" Myria asks. "It's been a hot minute since I seen the pricks." “I must have had the radio off. We’re going through to the Shadowlands?” Kayrisa sounds concerned. “What don’t come back? What if you are stuck like we were was on Argus?” "Yeh, we got some time, I got to work some things out when I ge' to Icecrown anyway. Goin' to try an' get everyone togevver for a briefin' afore I hop into the darkness." Delphie retrieves pieces of her armor from the ground as she puts back her defenses, sounding more determined. "I mean, it's no' necessarily we; your da' and I is, bu' I'm not goin' to be forcin' people t' do it one way or the other. I know full well 'ow dangerous it is." "Um. You--It sounds dangerous, yeah. Kay, maybe you should stay on this side since you don't like fighting." Johann sounds concerned for his own sister, regarding the mission Delphie has apparently already decided to go on. “That’ll be a good idea, maybe when the braver folks find a foothold and a way back and forth, then I might help the cause." Kay mumbles something. "Be safe. Back up like your going to get stuck on Argus. We here await your return.” Johann hesitates before making an offer to Kay. "You can stay here with us if you want. Still lots of people needing help in the city. Food to provide, kids to keep calm." “Tell Dad I’m staying on this side this time." Kay tells Delphie. "I’m done dimension hopping. See what I can do to help.” "I will. I'm goin' to be askin' Liv to stay behind an' keep an eye on the Honorborn, so its no' loike the camp is goin' anyplace eivver. I've got jobs lined up for awhile yet, so there'll be work t' do this side of the veil." Delphie responds, matter of fact, before the façade of strength cracks again. Softly, uncertainly, she continues. "I shoul' go. If you see... ah... the young Lord Belgrave tell him... Actually, jus'.. don' ever mention me in front of him, yeh? He don' need that kind of pain." The young Lord Belgrave cries silently into his hands. Navarre, who had been largely quiet, taps his foot on the ground a few times, causing Talis to look up and smile softly through his tears at the small movement from his dear companion. "You will stay safe at least while you're there, yes?" Navarre finally speaks up. "I know I'm not to mention you to Talis, but it would help assure me if I knew someone so important to him was safe." Kays feet shuffle quickly across the floor towards Delphie, the latter taking a quick step back away from the younger woman. "Don' do this t' me Kay. I been though enough t'day." She hesitates before speaking further, and when she does he can hear the sadness in her voice. "I'm not important to 'im. I'm less'n dirt to 'im. So you don' got to worry none abou' that." She turns and starts walking away. Johann waits for Delphie to walk away several feet before he moves to the floor to check on Talis. "Hey. Come on out now. I'm--I'm sorry you had to hear that." "Then, from one less than dirt kid to another, please watch out for yourself, Miss Delphinia!" Navarre calls, before flopping down onto the ground to lift the blanket up and offer his arms to Talis. "Love, are you- how are you feeling after that?" It was all wrong. Delphie had been more of a mother to him than either of his mothers. She was the one avoiding him. There wasn't any reason he would hate her, but her parting words made it sound like she thought he did. Talis lets himself be half pulled out from under the cot by the hug, tears still running down his face. Half clutching Navarre for support, his head turns, scanning the busy Cathedral. He recognizes the armor pieces that had been scattered around the cot on the form of a jet-black worgen making her way swiftly towards the exit with her head low. She didn't really believe he hated her, did she? "Delphie!" He shouts in a tear choked voice. She pauses in the doorway of the Cathedral and freezes. She starts to turn back before changing her mind and bolting outside. With a defeated sob, Talis buries his face in Navarre's chest. Navarre buries his head in Talis' floof of hair in turn, holding him tightly against his chest. He doesn't show any signs of letting go. "It'll be okay, dear. Let it out. I'm right here for you." Johann settles a hand on Talis's back and awkwardly rubs soothing circles. "We're here. You don't have to go through this alone." Talis just sniffles into Navarre's chest for a moment. He reaches out towards Johann and tries to encourage the shy mage into a group hug. "I jus' don't understand." Johann hesitantly joins the embrace. "She's scared. I think you hating her is both the hardest and easiest path at the same time. She's protecting you and punishing herself. In her mind, anyway." "You're prob'ly right. It still hurts though." He says weakly. "I'm such a coward. I should have come out, I should have said something." "I don't know if you could've said anything that would've helped right then. It was raw. Hurting." Johann gives Talis's shoulders a squeeze. "But you know where she is now. There'll be more times to try." "No, Talis, you are not a coward. Johann is right, it's unlikely anything you could have said would have done anything in that moment. There will be other chances to try talking to her, but this one had a lot of pent up emotion." He frowns. "It sounds like she's guilty for what she did to you. At least you know she's around now, it means you can run into her again one day. It's not all lost." Emotions churn in Talis's gut. Guilty of what, though? His friends were right though, surprising her could only make things worse. Still, tears well in his eyes with worry. "...but what if it was my only chance? Wouldn't you want to tell your family you love them afore they go on a dangerous mission like going to the Shadowlands?" He mumbles softly, not considering the implications that Johann's father is also going to the Shadowlands and his words could be upsetting. Johann's breath catches. "I--Y-You're right," he stammers. "D-Do you w-want me to--to take us to Icecrown?" Navarre looks at the two in stunned silence for a long moment, his bright eyes growing wide. "I- I'll meet you there. I'll find a way. I can't let you both go alone, but I can't just go without telling my family." He slowly lets go of Talis, giving Johann a look that said he trusted the mage. The young man stands, gazing back at the group one last time, hesitation clear in his eyes, before turning like he was about to leave. "Oh, I'm so sorry love, this rattled me so much I wasn' even thinking. Do you need us to go with you to find your family? Things have been so terrible." Talis runs up to Navarre, grabbing his hand and leaning in for a small friendly kiss. Kayrisa turns from watching where Delphinia had left with concern in her eyes. “If you guys are going, can I come along?” "You don't need to wait for me, darling." Navarre returns the kiss. "I'll be right there, I promise. You don't know how long a window you have to find your sister. You know I'll always be there for you, but you don't know about her." Talis cups the other man's jaw gently, staring deeply into his eyes. "Thank you love. Please be safe, I don't know wha' I would do with myself if something happened to you." "Let's--Um, let's get away from the main floor. Don't want to scare anyone." Johann announces awkwardly at the pair of loving men, before shuffling away towards an alcove with Kayrisa in tow. "You, as well, my dear. I'll see you soon. I trust the three of you to keep each other safe until I return." Navarre holds Talis' gaze for a few seconds more before finally breaking away. With a wave of his hand, he leaves, Talis watching after him for as long as he could. By the time Talis reaches the alcove, Johann has already gotten the portal up and running. The sight of it, and the daunting reunion beyond it makes his breath catch in his throat. He steels himself. "Thank you, Johann. For suggesting this. It didn't even cross my mind... I was planning on just fretting about it and being sad." He forces a laugh and shakes his head. "Are we ready to go?" "Ready as we can be, I guess. Um, it will be cold, though. Do you know any spells for staying warm?" Talis glances down at his once fine clothing, now half tattered and ruined from their mad dash from the Scourge. "No... um, oh! One moment." He jogs out of the alcove and snags a thick blanket from the bottom of a cot, running back moments later. "Alrigh', I'm ready." "Then let's get going. I'll use the little magic I know to make sure none of us freeze to death. Can make a torch if nothing else." He gestures for everyone else to go first. "See you on the other side." Talis nods at him, struggling to keep a brave face, and heads through the portal.
  15. Terror ripped through Delphinia's chest and wound its way up her throat, clawing its way out of her mouth in a cry. "DIDGE!" She couldn't think about the consequences right now. A ghoul's head split open on her daggers. She couldn't think about the years of effort keeping a secret. The swath of carnage she cut through the city was a blur, leaving a mass of uncounted bodies in her wake. There was only one thing that mattered. "DIDGE!!!" Her voice cracked with a sob. When had she started crying? The front door splintered as a wedged dagger and a kick popped the lock. He had to be alright. He had to be. She slammed into the wall with the momentum of heading to the stairs, leaving a splatter of blood and ichor in her wake. When she reached the door shaking hands practiced with years of lockpicking fumbled with panic at the lock. "DIDGE!" The door gives way to expertise, and she's barely aware of the arcane alarm being tripped. A tiny extra wave of panic flows over Delph, but it's drowned out by the blood pounding in her ears. The ichor of fallen ghouls drips from her armor onto simple, clean carpeting, her boots grinding in the leavings of carnage she'd created and waded through. She tears through the apartment, crying her brother's name, throwing open any spot he might have hidden. She couldn't give in to despair, even as each small room turned up nothing. Couldn't think about how upset he would be to see her again. How much it would hurt. Couldn't think about what would happen if she couldn't find him. Couldn't think about what terrible fate might have befallen him. Because he could still be out there, he could still need her help. All that mattered now was finding him, protecting him. That was the real reason she came to Stormwind. Her terror barely contained under a veneer of duty for her men. Men she had quickly left behind in her panicked dash for her brother's flat. He wasn't here. Her breath shook as she struggled not to give in to panic. Where next? She swallowed down a hundred terrible scenarios flashing through her head. The Keep or the Cathedral were most likely, she decided. The guard had been evacuating people to the Cathedral, she knew that, or Didge had been at work at the Keep. The Cathedral was closer, she decided. And if he wasn't there, she would head for the Keep. She tried not to think about any other alternatives for now. Just one thing at a time. Don't spiral out. She leaps from the small balcony, landing with violence among the restless undead. Her eyes flash over potential hiding spots or places he might have been as her voice wears hoarse from shouting for him. It takes time to cut through the ghouls to the Cathedral, but when she reaches it she still takes the stairs two at a time. Crashing through the doors shoulder first, she pants as her eyes flicker across the main room. The panic permanently roosted in her gut rises higher and higher with each face that doesn't belong to her brother. A laugh cuts through the hubbub of the busy Cathedral, warm and bright, strange and yet deeply familiar. Delphinia had almost forgotten she could hear anything besides the panicked rush of blood in her ears. Didge was smiling. Laying on a cot and bandaged, but smiling. Laughing and chatting and holding the hand of some lad about his age. He was safe. The wave of relief is so strong it threatens to knock Delphinia off her feet. It takes her a moment to even notice the others he was sitting with. Kay and Johann? Suddenly the wave of relief had a thousand undercurrents of other emotions ripping at her. Doubt, confusion, pain. She turns and quickly makes her way out the door before she could be swept up by all of them. She stumbles down the stairs she had so recently run up with such determination. Adrenaline wearing off, wounds she hadn't noticed before and anxieties compete for her attention. Finding a planter to half hide herself behind, she sinks to the ground, winding her fingers up into her hair and choking out sobs. He got hurt. You let him get hurt. Why were they there? He got here on his own. He doesn't need you. Do they know? He's going to see the flat. Did Baur go looking for him? Is that why his children are here with Didge? Stupid, sloppy, reckless. Who could have told? Who betrayed me? He's hurt and it's your fault. Who all knows? You ruin everything you touch. He doesn't need you. Baur can blackmail you with this. Weakness. Why are you here? He hates you. Who all did Baur tell? You need to leave... The crackle of Delphinia's radio cuts through the panicked stream of thought. She jumps at the sound, and holds the device between shaking hands. "Boss Lady Delphinia? Where you might be? I wish to meet you in person." Kayrisa. But Delphinia had just seen Kayrisa sitting next to Didge. Kay had to know, didn't she? Could it be a coincidence that they ended up in cots next to each other? Had she just unwittingly said Delphinia's name in front of him and ruined years of keeping Didge thinking she was dead? Every inch of Delphinia screams that this is a trap, and yet, not responding seemed worse. If they didn't know for sure yet, Delphinia being odd about it would tip them off. Delphinia clutches the radio between her hands and gulps down a few deep breaths. She couldn't let her men hear her fear, her tears. "Cathedral square. Preparin' to return t' Icecrown." Not entirely a lie, for how deeply she wanted to run halfway across the world. Another voice crackles through the radio, Baldric. "You here restockin' too, boss? I was thinkin' of headin' back out now I got them kids safe, but iffin we's needed in Icecrown, sign me up." The words are uncomplicated by the situation in the Cathedral and Delphinia tries to focus on them. She was still the boss here, and there was a job she had been lining up in Icecrown before dropping everything to rush to Stormwind. "The guard has it from here. More work t' be done in Icecrown." "Yer the boss, boss. I'll finish up restockin' bullets an' come meet up with ya." Talking to Baldric is relief in comparison to the veritable minefield of Kayrisa. A relief that doesn't last long as Kayrisa's voice pipes up again. “Could you make it up to the Cathedral and make sure everyone in the group is fixed up before heading up?” Fuck. Delphinia freezes, staring down at the radio in her hands. This has to be a trap. It has to be. But it's such a reasonable request, how could she refuse? If she told Kayrisa to fuck off everyone would know something was up. Everyone will know. The Cathedral was busy, maybe she could just avoid then and check to see the other Honorborn. But on the other hand... Delphinia sat, half-paralyzed by the uncertainty, weighing the options as the anxiety in her gut twisted itself into more and more of a frenzy with every moment she didn't answer. "Yeh. In a few minutes." Delphinia drops the radio in her lap after answering it, immediately regretting her choice. She comforts herself with the thought that Didge at least wouldn't recognize her worgen form as she wipes her eyes on the inside of her mask. She could be quick, she could be secret. She pulls the cloak tight, hiding her face beneath hood and mask. Her heart is in her throat. She twists her mask around to hide the marks from her tears under her hood. After spending a minute to compose herself as much as possible, she stands, her wounds screaming in protest. Her injuries would have to wait a bit longer. She trudges back up the stairs, steeling herself as she heads back into the main room. Delphinia had expected a burst of anxiety when she saw her brother again, but what she did not expect was the wave of panic when he wasn't there. Where was he? A dozen scenarios tear through her mind as her eyes flash across the room. Could something have gone wrong with his wounds, getting him moved deeper into the Cathedral? Had he gone back outside? Had Johann and Kay told him about her and he ran off? Was this all part of the trap? Was something else wrong? Had she just somehow hallucinated him being here? What if, what if, what if. She starts frenetically searching the Cathedral. Briefly she aknowledges the Honorborn she sees, though her eyes continue searching for Didge. Two full circuits of the Cathedral later and Delphinia is practically choking on her fears when she notices a familiar face. Not the one she's looking for, but one of the few living people who knows both her and her brother. "Doctah, Doctah Selbrin! Didge... Didge, he..." While she marches up to the older healer with determination, her voice cracks. "Woah, hey, it's alright. I treated your brother myself, he's fine. A little scratched up but that was all. He's righ-" Larna Selbrin starts to turn her head towards where Didge had been sitting when Delphinia cuts her off. "No! No, don' look that way. You'll draw their attention. He's no' there now, d'you where he went?" The healer sighs heavily and fusses with her robes. "Delph, you know very well my opinions on you avoiding your brother." "I jus' want to make sure he's awrigh', is that so bad?" "It would be better for both of you if you worked out your issues. Maybe he would like to know that you're 'alright' as well, hm?" A snarl of distrust rises hot in Delphinia's chest. Her mind connects a dozen unconnected points; Doctor Selbrin betrayed her, told Tonric, how else would his children end up talking to Didge? "You didn' tell nobody, did you?" "No. You know our discussions are confidential. It is your decision to make, even if you are making the incorrect choice." "It's no'--I jus' want to know where he is! Where did he go?" Concern coated over now with frustration, Delphinia snaps angrily. "I don't know. Your young friend who visited you in the clinic was speaking to him, why don't you ask her?" Doctor Selbrin frowns. "You're not having that girl spy on him for you, are you?" "Wh- Kay? No. I don' know... I don' know why they's talkin' to eachovver." Delphinia fidgets nervously with her hands. Either Doctor Selbrin really didn't know or the doctor was unwilling to tell, so she wouldn't know what was going on unless she spoke to Kay and Johann. Maybe it really was a coincidence, maybe she was overthinking things again. Or maybe she was walking into a trap, either way, there didn't seem to be much choice. "I'll go... I'll go find out, I guess." Doctor Selbrin gives her a small, reassuring smile. "I'll be around if you need me." The nod Delphinia gives the doctor in return is stiff and unfocused--her mind already churning ahead on what scenarios she might be walking into. She turns on her heel and marches over to the group on the cots, head remaining on constant swivel for sight of her brother.
  16. Hi there and welcome :) Happy story writing!
  17. Spoilers ahead! Title: The Long, Hard Road Out of the Maw WARNING: spoilers lie ahead! … … … Seriously, the premise to this story idea contains spoilers for the Shadowlands questline. … … … … Alright, you’ve been warned about the SPOILERS. Seriously, last chance to turn back. … … … Description/History: this is a spin on the “found family” group of strangers who must overcome ego, prejudice, and yodeling Mawsworn bards to escape from Hell. The premise is that a group of four or five adventurers are locked up in adjacent cells within the Maw. Each of them arrived in the Maw in their own way, but all of them ended up captured by the Jailer’s forces and watched as rows of other prisoners were turned into anima to fuel the Maw’s armies. Those group of four/five adventurers are the ones who manage to escape their cells together and reach a waystone gate. There are no chosen heroes, there are no world-famous champions, there is no climatic destruction of the Maw; there are just a few down-to-Earth (or down-to-Azeroth) adventurers who find their way out of a horrible situation and live to talk about it. I have no ending for this planned. They have their goal to escape, but I want this story to develop organically with input from all players involved, so I’ve intentionally left the story arc open. Looking for: three or four chill role players who can help to mold and shape this together. The idea is still in development, and I’d like if the other people to be involved help with that development; I’m big on collaboration. Restrictions: preferably RPers who’re reliable in the long term. I’m hoping for partners who can walk that balance of respecting when one member of the group is delayed by real-life responsibilities while also being dependable and sticking with the story to the end. Level of RP desired: Moderate to high. Being an expert isn’t a requirement, but this is better suited for people who aren’t first-time RPers. Length should be a few paragraphs per post. Misc. notes:[/b] the basic premise is based on the idea that there are multiple maw walkers per in-game text. Only one of us needs to have the maw walker power, but I’d prefer that it’s not my character. Contact: Ihsan997#7712 on Discord
  18. Full Name: Ral’rush of the Darkspear Nicknames: Rush, Ral, the Blood Drinker Date of Birth: springtime in the year 0, around the time when the Dark Portal opened Age: Mid thirties Race: jungle troll Gender: male Hair: dull red Skin: light blue Eyes: dull red Height: 8’4” / 254 cm Weight: 450 lbs / 204 kg Place of residence: nameless Darkspear village in Dustwallow Marsh, Kalimdor Place of Birth: cluster of huts on the coast of Stranglethorn Vale, Eastern Kingdoms Known Relatives: numerous; his parents are alive, and his multiple siblings and cousins are all married with kids. He’s also been married to the same woman since the sinking of Darkspear Isle. Religion/Philosophy: confused and non-observant, though he respects his family’s veneration of the loa Hir’eek Occupation: career soldier, wandering do-gooder, and a fungus farmer when not at war Group/Guild affiliation: none (I’ve been playing since vanilla and never spent any considerable time in guilds) Guild Rank: n/a Enemies: surprisingly few among the Alliance; most of his enemies are former commanding officers or demons whom he killed multiple times Likes: humid weather, arguing about the news, competitions in crowded and noisy taverns Favorite Foods: cat meat, fluffy puppies, stinky mushrooms, broccoli-flavored ice cream Favorite Drinks: cactus punch, orange juice, the blood of his enemies Favorite Colors: red and black Weapons of Choice: a two-handed mace as his primary weapon for attacking other heavy infantry, though he always keeps two cutting blades as sidearms such as machetes or falchions Dislikes: disunity, ending friendships, antisocial behavior (he’s a hypocrite there), stereotypes Hobbies: mount racing, animal fights, liar’s dice Physical Features: though of average height for a Darkspear, Rush is of heavier build, fitting the archetype of the stronger, hardier berserkers. He doesn’t do much with his hair and beard, shaving everything off when going on the march, letting it all grow back until it gets in the way of fighting, and then shaving everything again. His clothing style tends to be very primitive, and other trolls as well as orcs can usually identify him as a villager by his unstitched garments. Special Abilities: his stamina is his pride and joy; it’s extremely rare that he grows tired of physical activity. He’s also exceedingly difficult to render unconscious without poison or magic (though he’s also rather vulnerable to the latter two things). He’s also regenerated from particularly horrible injuries which should have killed him, albeit over a slow healing process. Positive Personality Traits: loyal, helpful, open-minded (for a troll), dependable Negative Personality Traits: poorly educated, follower personality, indecisive, excessively cruel when angered Misc. Quirks: he experiences visual distress when pushed to rebel against authority; he’ll commit acts he knows are wrong when ordered unless the act is extreme, or if he sees other people rebelling first. Played by What Famous Person: Ron Perlman! And ONLY Ron Perlman! Theme Songs: Listen to this like a soundtrack while reading, I guess? History: very little about Rush’s story is unique or out of the ordinary. The story of contemporary Azeroth’s armed conflict is like the story of his life. His family having boarded the large galley ships with the orcs, Rush joined the Horde and participated in the Third and Fourth Wars, the War in Outland, the Siege of Orgrimmar, the Wars against the Iron Horde and the Burning Legion, and the War against the Jailer’s forces. In between wartime, he lives at a village of mostly Darkspear trolls in northern Dustwallow, where his family farms fungus in a stagnant swamp.
  19. Hi there! I’m the fellow who joined the Discord yesterday, Ihsan997. Like I mentioned, I don’t play on the TNRH cluster, but I’m hoping to join as a contributor to your community. I’ve been playing the Warcraft series since the first game back in 1995, and I was also a fan of the Lost Vikings, so I’m a Blizzard loyalist. I’ve played WoW since vanilla, and in that time, I’ve only joined two guilds - each time for less than a month. I sort of drift in and out of scenes and scenarios, and for 15 years, I’ve honestly had a lot of fun that way. I don’t join guilds in two of the other main MMOs I play, ESO and SWtOR; I did join one in FFXIV and it’s been a weird experience for me (not bad, just very different). I’ve always preferred to RP via forums and, now that Discord is a thing, on that. I’m also big on story writing, both on my own and with groups. I quite enjoy writing stories with multiple writers, collaborating on plot arcs, helping other people’s characters to change and grow through experience, and seeing scenarios develop from beginning to end. I’m not really a take the lead kind of person so much as a supporter, but I do legitimately enjoy helping other people. I hope that I can find a good bunch on here to write stories with (I love the server I currently play on, Moonglade EU, but we don’t have anything like what you’ve all built here for TNRH). Nice to meet you all!
  20. Sometimes he cursed the days that bled into each other one after the other. When he had something to do the time was well spent and the inability to sleep was a blessing. But when the holidays approached it left him with endless amounts of time to check the main road and see if he was coming. For the hundredth time that day alone he found himself too distracted to do anything more than listlessly fiddle with his lab equipment. The holidays were always a hard time for him. What was a feast to a man who barely ate? What was snow to a man who hardly felt the cold? In these times he rarely felt the spirit that everyone else was infused with. The only ones who brought a modicum of that cheer into his empty eyes were his family. His wife had long lost her sympathy for his seasonal gloom. Soon enough she would start baring her teeth when he wasn't looking, then it would turn to growling and finally a demand to just stop fretting. For his own sanity and hers, he had thrown himself into a new task of preparing the small feast for the two, hopefully three, of them. If nothing else the chopping blade demanded your focus. Vegetables were diced, almonds slivered, potatoes chopped, steamed and mashed and mixed with an unhealthy amount of butter. "He's not coming." Selris finally murmured, setting the bowl down with a resolute thunk. His wife would look up and narrow her eyes, silently demanding an explanation. "You remember the last time we saw him, the argument... HE hasn't written a letter in months. I know he's going to blame it on me-" Before he could go into a full rant, he was struck in the back of his head with a wooden spoon. "...Fair enough but you know I am right." He sighed, offering a soft smile under the threat of another bonk. Satisfied, his wife turned back towards the fat bird on the flame. Dusk was falling and the meal in its entirety had just hit the table when three soft knocks sounded at the front door. The two of them sprang from the table to answer it, moving in sync towards the entrance. The door swung open wide to reveal the travel weary orc. His armor was scuffed, his eyes tired, and more than a few patches of his exposed skin were covered in dirty bandages. Before he could even begin to offer an explanation or a muttered, awkward rant, he would find himself embraced by his parents. Appearances did not matter, neither did the latest feats. In that moment, the family had become whole once again. For one evening, the arguments could rest. "Welcome home, Gunny." The Father murmured softly, ushering the young orc inside out of the cold.
  21. Kumai and Qabian sit across from each other at a small table. In front of her is a crude map of the Shadowlands, drawn by herself, as best a representation as she could manage for something that is at its essence metaphysical, some blobs, lines between them, marked with angel wings, a swirly tree, a skull, three other blobs unmarked. To her left are two piles of ash, one dark, one light. Her fingers play idly in the dark pile. To her right is a length of paper with a tiny quill on it. Magic shimmers over the quill now and then, but for the moment, it lies still on the page. Her face looks drawn, as though she hasn't slept in some time. On the floor beside her chair is a helm made of swoops of gold, thoroughly unlike anything she's worn before. Qabian sits with his face in his hands, the heels of his palms pressed over his eyes, his fingers gripping handfuls of his own hair. In front of him is a steaming cup of coffee with a long leaf limp over its edge, stirred but not sipped. Beside their table is a wide picture window looking out onto a bright Dalaran night. Kumai lets herself watch the couple of citizens walk the street below the apartment while Qabian tries to understand all the things she has just told him in all the ways she has of telling. Behind him, a large fire in a large fireplace burns merrily, but it somehow fails to chase the shadows or the chill from the room. The room is several times the size of his tiny Silvermoon lair, and tonight it feels like a wide empty stone hall full of echoes. "The afterlife?" Qabian says incredulously, looking up at her. He's said the same word in the same incredulous tone a dozen times already. She doesn't turn away from the window, while she makes two signs for him, 'stop' and 'area'. "They still die." She doesn't bother nodding. "And they go nowhere. Or the Maw. So to die and yet fear death, it is no afterlife, merely another life, a life taking place beneath and beside us, merely a world that is reached by a spirit instead of a ship." She continues to watch the evening street, her fingers making swirls in the ash on the table as she lets her friend think himself aloud to wherever it is he needs to be. "But so many worlds. And Bolvar has people walking them now, walking between them, taking bodies to walk where spirits walk. Trying to... And Sylvanas... And Tyrande..." He drops his face into his hands again, pulling at his own hair. "I hate this. I hate this so much." Kumai smiles at him then. 'I know,' she signs. He looks up too late to see. "All right. You are going back?" She nods, making a sign with her thumb for 'tomorrow'. "I have no reason to go there, do I?" There's strange emotion skewing Qabian's voice -- concern, desperation. Fear. She raises an eyebrow at him. She opens her palm over the map in front of her, and the piles of ash swirl threads into a vague representation of Azeroth floating over her hand. A breath from Qabian's nose in place of a laugh. "The world can burn. I'd rather build up to doing that myself, but if someone else beats me to it? Fine." Kumai smirks. The globe illusion drops to ash in her palm and reforms into a spinning book floating over her left hand, open flat with its pages smoothly flipping. In her other hand, she holds a bright yellow flame with white arcane sparks at its center. Qabian scowls. "Knowledge and power." Kumai smiles. "You know me well." Qabian sighs and leans back in his chair, staring at the coffee which refuses to stop steaming. Kumai nods. The Argent over Icecrown seems like a lifetime ago, even though it was closer to a matter of days. The Ebon Blade took over the Argent's work, to her dismay, but perhaps it was inevitable, with how interwoven everything was becoming with the very nature of death, that the death knights lead the charge. 'You going?' she signs at him. "Maybe." Qabian frowns down at his drink. "The secrets are tempting, but the price for them may be more than I can afford to pay." He finally takes a sip. Kumai lets the ash and magic in her hands dissolve, and reaches over to put her fingers on his arm. He doesn't flinch, but looks at her hand with confusion on his face, then frowns at her. Her touch is brief, and she turns her wrist to lift the ash once more into a slowly spinning symbol of the Grim, hooded skull and daggers. Qabian sighs. "I don't know. I don't want to know. It will be hard enough to make such a journey without them. They would only make it harder." Kumai frowns in turn. He knows the questions she's asking. "With the Alliance, on this world, the Grim make sense. They don't make sense anywhere else," Qabian insists. "They never have. They never will. There are no steps beyond the first step for them." Kumai holds out a palm, gesturing to the door on the far side of the room. "No," Qabian says, lowering his voice. "They are still my people. For all we still have left to do in this world. If this world is torn apart by these new secrets, then yes, I will leave. Until that day, while any still walk under the lions' banner, the Grim have whatever serves for loyalty where I'm concerned." Kumai shakes her head and stares at Qabian for a moment, then lets the symbol fall back to ash. She stands up and begins to pack away her things. "You're leaving?" Qabian asks, blinking up at her in surprise. She just nods and continues. "Of course you are. You must. What fresh hell Sylvanas has unleashed. She saved us from the Scourge, and now she dooms us to something worse? And there are those among my people who will never believe her wrong. Even I have my doubts, despite everything you've told me," Qabian muses, his gaze drifting around the room as he speaks. Kumai listens as she puts each thing in its place, paper rolled away, ash in its pouches, quill in its case. "What does she think is right in this? Is it simply the ability to harness the Scourge to her will? There are so many secrets behind that shattered sky, and I fear most of them. I am not used to being afraid, not since the dragons lost their interest in me." The way the thoughts and feelings roil through Qabian's mind is audible in his words and his voice, but he stands up and walks her to the door despite how immensely he is distracted. "I don't know quite what to do with everything you've told me," he admits, "but thank you for all of it. With you, at least, I have some freedom to try and wrap my mind around the details." Kumai smiles with a shallow nod of her head, carrying her gold cage of a helm under one arm. Her fingers stained dark with ash, she puts her palm over her heart and smiles at him. 'Safe secrets,' she signs to him. Before she closes the door behind her, she takes a small stone and a wine bottle from her bag and passes them to Qabian with a smile. He looks surprised, but the door closes on him before he can ask questions.
  22. Kumai tosses and turns before giving up on sleep entirely and going to write a letter. - Do not come here. If the Death Knights ask you for help, tell them to leave you alone, then run as far and as fast as you can. What they are going to ask of you will torment you with your memories. I have a fraction of the memories you do and am struggling. This will tear you to shreds. Run. ~K
  23. Kumai flopped herself down in the mountain of pink and lavender pillows she had carefully curated in her room in Razor Hill and stared up at the ceiling carved out of the stone of the cliff. In his haste to get things arranged for the fast approaching disaster in Icecrown, Qabian had thought to send her a note, asking if her new people knew what was going on, describing what he had learned, what the Death Knights were saying happened to the Lich King, and urging her to prepare. In a sense, she knew more than he did, because she had actively offered to help the Argent Crusade and had been there herself, while he was avoiding it like, well, the plague. But Kumai still felt disconnected, like this was not her fight. And it was not her fight. It was a needed fight, a save-the-world fight, but it just was not personal for her. Even when she joined her new friends on a pilgrimage to send the souls that had been blocked from peace on to the next place, whatever that place might be. Much like her mentor, Kumai did not like to delve into the business of souls. The fact that they could clearly be manipulated and yet every people and culture treated the afterlife entirely differently made the spirit world a subject and a place she avoided, a subject and a place she would deal with when forced and not before. She wasn't exactly being forced now, but she still felt a curious sense of obligation given what happened, and she was intentionally avoiding acting on that sense. She grabbed one of her pillows and crushed it to her face, a scream that would have been just as silent unobstructed, then got up and went to her little table. - You are right. The next thing is happening. I have been helping in Icecrown, but it seemed to me like the stories of Northrend were clawing their way out of their shallow graves. New circumstances, new questions to answer, new problems to solve, but mostly the same story in the same place. Now I think that's wrong. This is not the same story. Or it may have started as the same story, but... A new door is open. It is not only about puppeting corpses and the mindless rage of the angry dead, but it is affecting spirits the world over, even those that long abandoned their bodies. The Tauren here are planning to cross to the spirit realm. Or something like it. Without dying first. How... My mind balks. One the one hand, I do genuinely want to offer to help. They seem to desperately need to do this and need the help to see it through. It makes little and less sense to me. Those lives are over and their effect on the living is in their stories not their metaphysical... whatever is in those totems. But they all seemed very certain about what was needed, and very emotional about it, and I have no reason not to help. On the other hand. What. The. Actual. Fuck. I guess stranger things have happened than casually walking into an actual, palpable, interactable version of the afterlife, and if there was ever anything that could make me believe such a thing is possible, it's the state of Icecrown right now, but... I'm afraid. I wasn't before last night, but I am now. The actual walking angry dead are very easy to set on fire. Stepping into another world where I'm not even sure how magic will work? I can only imagine what you're thinking and feeling. This seems like something you would have nightmares about. I guess your project is on hold, isn't it? I can keep you informed if you want. A little fear never stopped me before. Take care of yourself. ~K
  24. Kumai stood on a perch overlooking Mord'rethar: The Death Gate with a deep frown etched into her face. She was used to cultists. She had spent enough time with the Hammer to have a certain familiarity with the nihilism that might convince one to put their efforts into bringing about the end times. The past echoed in her mind as she watched the agents of the Scourge going about their work. Add your Voice to our glorious chorus, for it is the song that will end the world. But this cult was different. It had a fascination with bodies that she was not used to. The Hammer liked to play with dragons, dragons and chaos, and she herself had been sacrificed on an altar, so they certainly had their own attachment to death, inevitable when bent on destruction, but there were fewer, well, corpses. She had never seen the appeal in necromancy, even and possibly especially after meeting the few Forsaken she had the pleasure of interacting with. The Damned were not her cult, nor were they her fight. They were not her story. They were a story told by others - the treason in the Scar that went through Eversong, the ruination of the Sunwell, the war that gave her things in common with people she had no right to have things in common with. And here they were, the Damned insinuating themselves into her story. She wasn't sure how to deal with the mess they were making. She had her magic, and she plied it at the Argent's direction. Perhaps that was all she could do for now. Save the world. It was important. It was. Even if sometimes she felt like she had to convince herself of that. You can only spend so long destroying the world before saving it seems contradictory. She leapt off her perch, blinked out of sight and reappeared on the landing, a few shambling horrors took notice and veered slowly in her direction. Her hands lit up with flames. However this ended, if she lived, she would have stories to tell, and that she looked forward to.
  25. Every day began the same for Janis Aristaeus Bearcharger. Wake up as the sun did, wrapped in blankets, beside his wife. Eat breakfast, table framed by the rising sunlight. Allow his wife to braid his long hair as he washed his face. Get dressed in front of the mirror, debate with his wife whether to wear the green tie or the blue. But only for a few minutes, he had a schedule to keep, after all. Rushing out of their home, Janis would run down the road towards the burgeoning city of Silvermoon, intent to keep to the rigorous schedule he always kept. He stops in front of a large building: strong and imposing, with rigid white lines and bright red crystalline features atop tall spires. Typical Sin’dorei architecture. The bank was bustling, as it always was before the working day. Men and women came and went, in and out, with checks in their hands. Janis takes a seat at his desk, finding it already piled with papers. Once he finally settles in, turning his nametag around to show he was here to work, he begins to slowly work through the papers: requests to transfer money, opening new accounts, closing old ones, the usual. It was a normal day in the office. He sighs, tossing his braided hair over his shoulder and adjusting his glasses upon his nose. He takes the sides of his frames, moving them up to make sure he could see properly. Circle vision was such a curse. The papers go by relatively quickly, as they usually do. Read this, sign here. Approve this, stamp that. One stack becomes two, becomes one again. As he finishes working, a woman comes up to his desk and takes a seat in front. Her white blonde hair is drawn back, held back by a bright yellow and green headband. A large purse sits upon her lap and a young man stands beside her, he looks like he might be either her lover or her son. Not that means much to Janis, he’s used to it by now. The woman takes out a checkbook, opening it to one of the blank pages and tapping with her finger. She clears her throat. The woman speaks curtly, matter of factly. She is straight to the point. Aleister, the name of the young man apparently, is here to open a bank account and Janis is to help them. Easy enough. He has opened enough of these in his time with the bank, including for his many children. He runs through the questions as he did every time he opened a bank account: contact information, financial history, consent to terms. Sign. Stamp. Seal. Finish. Next! An older looking gentleman approaches next, holding a clear file folder with several papers housed inside. His hands are shaking. Janis gestures for him to take a seat as he adjusts his glasses again. He really needed to get those refitted, the constant adjusting was getting annoying. The man is clearly nervous as he describes his ideas: an investment in a business, a shop for exotic goods imported from Zandalar right here in their home city. He needed a loan. A small one, he promises. Janis considers the idea, turning a pen in his hands several times. He spins his chair from side to side, never once letting his gaze leave the man for long. The banker seems uncertain of the returns given the nature of their people, explaining to the man that he needs to know that the bank will see its money back, turning him away gently. If he is able to return with documentation to show that his business will succeed, he will offer the money. Next! Nothing. There are no more for the time being. Finally, a moment to relax by himself. Janis begins to take the papers he’d signed and stamped from before and sorts them into separate piles for filing. This is relaxing. He enjoys this greatly and it takes up much of his morning. Eventually, the time for his lunch break rolls around (before he’d gotten the chance to put the files away, damn it!) and Janis pulls out a small, packed lunch from underneath his desk. As he unsealed the lunch, he could feel the heat radiating from inside of the perfectly temperature-controlled container. Magic: an elf’s best friend. It seemed the servants had packed him leftovers from the night before: slices of roasted meat and potatoes, baked vegetables, a slice of toasted bread. Nothing too spectacular for a none too spectacular day. The food disappears as quickly as it appeared from beneath his desk, and the man returns to his work. Not five minutes after his lunch had finished had a young woman come bounding towards his desk, jittery and excitable, trembling like an animal that had downed a few too many espressos. She clasps her hands together, bright eyes shining as she stared at Janis eagerly. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow at her, silently asking her what she was interested in. She spoke quickly, a little too loudly. On the bright side, Janis wasn’t going to fall asleep from his heavy lunch after an encounter with this little pixie sprite of an elf. She’s quick to answer, saying she has a deposit to make. She produces a coin pouch, that jangled loudly with every movement, that she plops down unceremoniously into Janis’ awaiting hand. He counts through the money in rapid fire Thalassian, marking it down upon a notepad. With all the money accounted for, the deposit is easily made. Forms are signed. Money is taken. A job well done. With the woman gone (and a sense of stability returned to Janis’ view), the man takes the files from before and quickly strides down a hallway towards a long corridor full of shelves placed back to back, without any space between them, except for at the ends. With a single wave of his hand, the shelves begin to shuffle, as if on wheels, until Janis is faced with the exact spot he was looking for to begin shelving his files. He pulls up a seat, beginning to place folders into boxes and boxes onto shelves. The day ends as quietly as it started, with Janis packing up his bag and starting towards the door. As he’s about to leave, a courier rushes in and thrusts a letter into his hands. He looks down at the letter, addressed to him from one Soren Qianas Bearcharger. He eases the seal open with a slender finger, reading over the contents and frowning, before returning it to his bag with a sigh. That was trouble for another night. Today was an ordinary day for an ordinary man who had an ordinary family that didn’t crash boats into rocks willy nilly.
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