[[Template core/front/profile/profileHeader is throwing an error. This theme may be out of date. Run the support tool in the AdminCP to restore the default theme.]]

Community Reputation

0 Neutral

About Bloodscream

  • Rank
    Senior Member
  1. Bloodscream


    ((Saint's preserve us... That's hilarious V... you're not right you know... in the head.))
  2. Bloodscream


    The lab was shrinking in the distance of the chaotic void that was the Twisting Nether. Bloodscream rubbed at his right ear where a small scar went mostly unnoticed. The Hearthchip opened communication with the lab. "Jeeves dispatch E.R.D.'s to sector twelve, scan for my lifesigns and this Hearthchip signal. He saw four small orbs come out of the cylinder and begin towards him in formation. "Emergency Response Drone team Alpha has been launched boss." "Out of curiosity Jeeves where is my armor?" He really was curious about that. "The Mark IV Explorer armor is right here Boss, on induction pad Two, recharging and running diagnostics after successful recall." "Hmmm me and my naked ass would like to challenge your definition of "successful" Bloodscream scratched at one of his tusks as the drones arrived and the soft hum and greenish light of the telekinetron beam surrounded him. That put an end to the spinning and Bloodscream was thankful for that. Then an arc of Netherfire seemed to come out of nowhere the way they often did and slammed into the rescue drones. Bloodscream was less thankful for that. "Son of a..." he exclaimed as the dimensional rip tore through the drones and the kinetron field went haywire and fired him like a canon ball across the void. Thankfully he was fired roughly towards the lab, which he would shoot past in little time but if little time was all that was at hand then little time would have to do. Bloodscream was screaming now, not that it made a difference to the hearthchip which equalized all to a loud whisper. "JEEVES BRING THE RIPPER CANNON ONLINE! LOCK ONTO MY SIGNAL AND STANDBY TO FIRE ON MY MARK!" Jeeves thought it best to forgo the argument in which he mentioned the ripper cannon was an untested prototype. He also decided not to mention that without a metallic shell surrounding him, their current calculations were unusable. He just locked onto the signal as it raced by and off towards the darkness. The sheer complexity of the calculations racing through Bloodscream's mind cannot accurately be described. "Target acquired, standing by." came Jeeves voice. Bloodscream had no time to double check his math, if the ripper was still calibrated using the baseline from Azeroth, which he was quite certain it was he just needed the right ambient power spike to reverse nether X cohesion for a moment and... There was a bright light as an arc of Netherfire blinded Bloodscream and he felt the energy pulse wash over him. "FIRE!!" he bellowed through the pain. He felt the ripper's ray hit him, he watched the cascade form and the material of the universe rip and in an instant was pulled through the rip and vanished. Inside the rip all was white light and muted sound. It was only a moment and then he was spat back out into a world of shapes and colors. Bloodscream opened his eyes and there a few hundred feet below him was Orgrimmar. He roared triumphantly. He had done it. He had properly calculated the jump and saved himself from an uncertain fate adrift in the Nether using what he had always perceived as his greatest weapon, his mind. A mind that at that very moment, was tapping him gently on the shoulder ever so apologetic about interrupting his jubilance and pointing down towards the ground far below while offering a brief tutorial on gravity. "Well...shit." Bloodscream thought to himself as he plummeted towards the city below.
  3. Bloodscream


    In the space between spaces, wrapped in the swirling chaos of the Nether floated a large structure. It was his laboratory. Quite by accident he had found that Titantech seemed to respond faster when not shackled by the paradigms of formed worlds. So he had built this place, between worlds, to conduct his experiments in peace. It was an imposing structure of titanium and nether forged adamantium, a rare form of the metal recovered from battle with Deathwing. It had taken some doing to locate the plates at the bottom of the ocean and more to recover them but it had been worth it. An ominous looking metal cylinder with a multitude of lights and antennas along it's surface, it hung menacingly in the Nether. The collector array fanned out at the front was regularly being struck by arcs of Netherfire, harnessing them for power. It was a marvel of Orcish engineering using techniques and technologies left by the Titans, re-imagined and re-engineered. Every bolt, every wire had been designed and installed by one single Orc, possibly the leading authority on Titantech across the known realms. A single Orc who was at that very moment, drifting by naked in a slow backwards somersault with a slightly disturbed look on his face. "Well....shit." Bloodscream thought to himself as he drifted away from his lab.
  4. To mirror what other of my guild have already stated: No PVP, No Grim. Now maybe I'm biased but my guild is the ONLY reason I am still playing 7 years later.
  5. Yemana stood on the edge of the cliff. She was already dead but that did not mean she welcomed oblivion. The troll had said he could cure them, those words stayed with her as she threw herself off the edge of the Spirit Rise. Yemana's massive ursine body arced a bit and then dropped out of the sky like several tons of bear. She watched the rock face flying by for but a moment. Once she had fallen from view she felt her mass shift, her wings grow, the air become her home. Now a huge raven, she banked hard, hugging the cliff and circling swiftly around. With a few powerful beats of her wings she crested the top of the Hunter's Rise, dodging several tentacles as soon as she reached the top. The Grim were starting their assault and Angoroth's attention was on the charging horde as opposed to the raven that had just come up behind him. Yemana circled once, watching, giving orders over the hearthstone link. It didn't take long for her to realize the obvious: Angoroth's power had grown, they could not defeat him, not like this. She didn't need him defeated, she needed him stalled for roughly sixty seconds. She focused on the result and not it's cost. She would need to be colder than Icecrown to lead this battle, she would need to order Grim to their deaths without hesitation and she would have to do so leading by example. She made peace with the Moon, bid the wind farewell and began looking for her opening. Guduk had landed on the edge of the Hunter's Rise to what he felt were less than epic results. He had expected the shifting mass to be softer upon landing. He felt like he had landed on a mass of steel chains; he stumbled, lost his balance and face planted into the mass, immediately set upon by tentacles as several maws tried to chew through his armor. He vanished in an explosion of writhing and snapping. Yemana saw her opening and her target. She dove silently down and aimed for the tiny breach in the wall of writhing corruption. "Healers on me!" she sent over the hearthstone's link as she vanished into the gap and started to shift into a bear. Straining violently against the steel like tentacles that closed in all around her growing form, she took aim at Angoroth's head and reached out a mighty paw. The tentacles slowed her some but her right paw found it's mark and left scratch marks across Angoroth's skull. Mission accomplished, she had his attention, it was the aftermath that had concerned her. Angoroth turned his head only slightly and Yemana felt the full weight of his gaze boring into her skull. She felt the madness creep, she heard the whisperings, incessant and incoherent. She felt the magic trying to consume her mind suddenly shatter and the healing energies course through her. All she needed now was to hold on. All around her she heard the sounds of death and tried to not realize it was her Grim getting killed. The shelling started, Grim casters of every flavor began to rain death onto the Rise. Angoroth shrieked and several Grim fell, clutching their ears as the madness tried to take them. Angoroth tried to continue shrieking but was met by a series of arrows and arcane blasts that interrupted his demonic focus. Pools of purple mist began to form around the rise and from those pools tentacles fired forth, grabbing and tearing. Pieces of Grim were flying around the Rise. In spite of the overwhelming display of power Angoroth was putting on, The Grim did not relent. Yemana was still standing her ground facing Angoroth, multiple healers doing nothing but flooding her with power to keep her alive. She was almost buried under a mountain of tentacles but still she lashed out at Angoroth, commanding his attention. The seconds ticked away, Yemana figured they were more than halfway to their goal by now. The mass of tentacles next to her burst open and Guduk stood up, massive sword first and then cut a large circle around him and stomped the ground hard, sending shockwaves into everything nearby. "They oughtta do something about the lawn." Guduk grinned at Yemana who was clearly focusing on Angoroth. Guduk's armor was covered in teeth marks and was deformed from the tentacle's force. He was clearly injured but showed no signs of slowing down. He had not enjoyed his time buried in the hungry mass and he was eager to share his feelings on this with Angoroth. The shadows behind Angoroth were alive with more than his hungry minions. Blades flashed and from time to time, a glimpse of a rogue, the flash of a blade. None of them were too eager to expose themselves, having had to perform near miracles just to get into position. Several more Grim closed, having fought their way through the tentacular moat. Arrows continued to rain down to a backdrop of raw mana, lightning, fire, frost and shadow. Yemana was a snarling mass of rampaging furry rage. Tentacles continuously tore large chunks out of the druid as she thrashed and swiped at Angoroth. Guduk and Brass were on his left, Viktor and Coyotl on his right. It had been almost a minute, whatever it was they were waiting for, Yemana wished it would it would arrive. Angoroth was getting slammed from all sides. The Warlock was pulsing with a deep purple light that seemed to be coming from inside his bony frame. He staggered as his bones cracked and the energy poured forth. The Grim collectively dared hope and pressed the attack. They fell upon Angoroth as one, synchronizing their attacks. Angoroth exploded in a flash of acrid smoke, purple light and the haunting screams of the corrupted damned. When the smoke cleared he was the only thing left standing on the Hunter's Rise. Leyujin and his Outriders were still gathered around Mohan, monitoring the fight. Between the Outriders and Angoroth were the casters and archers. All were struck silent by the scene the smoke revealed. "Well shit." Audreax the goblin mage declared. A stunned silence hung in the air for a moment as Angoroth, now a translucent shade of pure energy, slowly turned to face the surviving Grim casters. Leyujin raised his weapon high and started to charge towards the chasm that separated the two Rises. "OUTRIDAHS! TO BATTLE! FO DA MANDATE! FO DA ENFORCA! PEACE TREW 'NIHILATIAN!"
  6. Mohan stood in the circle, his breathing was slow and laboured. The ritual was starting to take it's toll. The Grim were gathered in a large circle around what had once been the Spirit Rise. Many of them were facing the other way. They were watching the skies, ever watchful for signs of Angoroth's response to their retaking the Tauren city. They had been told that chances were no response would come or by the time a response did show, they would be done and long gone. That didn't stop them from keeping an eye towards the horizon. Nozdormu sat at the top of the circle, his massive tail spilling out over the edge of the rise. Directly beneath him stood chief Malstrom, painted in an assortment of symbols, arms raised, chanting steadily. The ritual of the Spirit Moon was almost complete, soon they would enter into the hard part. The ritual would call the ancestor spirits. Under the spirit moon, they would answer the lament of the Taurahe. They would come to bring council, to share wisdom. Once gathered, Mohan would call to the Blood Moon, the warrior's moon. His ancestors spirits assembled, he would make a call for war and if his voice was true, the spirits would follow him to battle. Mohan didn't really understand how he could send an army of spirits back through time. Mohan was pretty certain Malstrom didn't understand it either but as always, the shaman's every gesture, every sound, betrayed a confidence that the spirits would, as always see him through. Malstrom stopped chanting. He strode into the circle his painted face sullen and grim. He stood to his full height and reached for the weapons at his side. In a swift practiced motion he drew the twin blades and held them to the moon. Twin trollish axes carved of pure obsidian. Legend claimed that the Windtalkers got their name from a pact with the wind spirits that helped them save their island home from volcanic apocalypse. Two great spirits, one of earth and the other of fire, called the island home. They had awoken once more to do battle, threatening the survival of all other life on the island. The great shamaness Breez had learned the spirits' true names from the wind who had fallen in love with her after hearing her song. She bound the great spirits of earth and fire into the axes and the spirits of air promised to never reveal the secret of their names to any but the rightful leader of the clan. Mohan had entered a kind of fevered waking dream, he saw shapes moving on the edge of dark. When Malstrom drew his axes and held them aloft, Mohan saw the great spirits intertwined; circling and spiraling upwards into the night sky, a thunder of rumbling stone and searing flames pummeling him. He saw them and instantly felt to his core their mutual hatred for the other. He felt the rage of millenia of conflict and he knew that the only thing preventing them from doing battle was the will of the troll who controlled them. Malstrom began to shout, Mohan was struck by how angry the troll sounded. "Look upon dis Kao I command!" he screamed, his giant shadow projected upon Nozdormu who stood silently behind him. Many of The Grim who were watching the skies turned their attention to Mohan. Malstrom was not addressing them however. Malstrom was calling to the spirits he saw circling ever closer from the veiled beyond. "By da light o'da Spirit Moon, hear his call!" Malstrom gazed at Mohan who in spite of his blurred vision, felt the stare and knew the time had come to speak the words. "I am Mohan, son of Wenahe, brother of Yichimet, last of my people!" He saw the distant outline of forms in the sky and felt some of their attention shift to him and begin to descend upon him. "I am Mohan, Enforcer of the Mandate, Chieftain of the Wildwind Clan! I can no longer hear the wind through the grass. The drums are all silent! I call to the Spirit Moon! I call to my fathers and their fathers before them! I call in blood back to the root of my people!" He pulled a knife as he spoke and closing his other hand around the blade, clenched his fist and felt the blood run down upon the hallowed ground. "I call in blood back to the first council! I call to the great spirits of The Hunt that they may guide every Wildwind since the first back to me this night. Under the spirit moon by my blood and oath, I implore the spirits, hear my call!" Mohan was on his knees now. He could feel them all around him, the spirits of his ancestors asking why. How had this come to pass? Unwilling or unable to grasp his feverishly mumbled answers, they hammered the question into him a thousand times over. With every wave of spiritual energy that washed through him he heard the question repeated until it filled his very soul. He focused on his breathing, trying not to heave onto the ground. The spirits meant no harm. They sought answers and Mohan was the only one they could reach, he stood alone in the circle interrogated by an endless flow of restless spirits who could feel the pull of the Blood Moon. They felt the unease of the sky, the tension in the very ground. Mohan held on as long as he could but eventually, in spite of himself, he felt the darkness closing in around him and just a he thought he could bear no more and would black out, he heard a voice, his brother's voice. "I know you are tired little brother, but you cannot give up now, your people need you and the real trial has not yet begun." He was vaguely aware of a translucent form at his side, shimmering with the most beautiful light he had ever felt. It warmed him and cleared his head some as his eyes tried to focus to stare at it. "Yichimet." Mohan mumbled softly, reaching for his brother's spirit, still unable to see the light clearly. Yichimet's spirit, unseen by all save Mohan and Malstrom, kneeled and brought his hands to his mouth and his mouth to his brother's ear. For several moments he whispered quietly into Mohan's ear, so softly that Mohan did not hear his dead brother's words, but something deep in the hunter's soul stirred. Nozdormu's true voice was a deafening wall of sound like storm tossed waves crashing on shores of broken glass. The Timeless One spoke one word in the tongue of Titans. One word that seemed to go on forever and at it's sound, the sky over The Rise buckled. It looked like the eye of a tornado stretching out into the darkness, seen as a reflection on the sky's now watery surface, blurred by it's constant wind lashed rippling. The Timeless one now committed to keeping the rip through time open, Angoroth made his move. A whisper crawled along the ground and up their spines to their ears. "Fools, you should not have drawn attention to yourselves. Now I must consume you in my masters' names." The Grim exchanged glances across the chaos of the ritual at the heart of the circle, there were nods and more than a few grins. The Hunter's Rise was engulfed in a dull purple glow and the shrieking of the damned was heard, drowning out even the great serpent's chant. No voice is clearer than the hearth's call to battle, and it was the undead druid Yemana, once of the Taurahe who gave the call. "REAPERS! SLAYERS! ANNIHILATORS! TO YOUR FISTS!" She commanded. "OUTRIDAHS! PROTECT YER ENFORCA!" came Leyujin's order. The Spirit Rise erupted into a frenzy of motion and spell casting. Guduk fired himself across the Rise landing at Malstrom's side in a crash of flesh and steel. "How long do you need?" the dead Tauren warrior asked the troll chieftain. Malstrom grinned a sinister grin. "Is no up to I..." he returned his gaze to Mohan, on his knees mumbling incoherently, his eyes glazed over. Guduk looked at them both and drew from his bag a rather fresh looking leg of gnome. "Take a wild guess for me would you?" he asked Malstrom waving the leg under his nose. An arm of stone rose from the earth at the shaman's feet and grabbed the leg. "He done in sixty seconds mon, one way or anoda." "A minute?" Guduk snorted. "Shit I can hold these clowns off myself for more than that, and here I thought we had a problem on our hands." He chuckled and lowered his visor, moving to rejoin Yemana and her Reapers. "Sixty seconds." he told Yemana on arrival. She snorted a big bear snort. She found Leyujin and his Outriders with her eyes. The troll warrior was looking for her as well and their gazes met. Their hearthstones pulsed and staring briefly at each other, they spoke in silence. "Cover Mohan we'll hold him off as long as we can." Yemana thought. "We juss be needin ta buy him 'nuff time." the troll warrior thought back. The Hunter's Rise was now a writhing mass of slime and tentacles, eyes and fang-toothed maws. Yemana once more broadcast her orders for all Grim to hear. "GRIM! TAKE THE RISE! DEATH TO ANGOROTH! PEACE THROUGH ANNIHILATION!"
  7. Outside the door, the Slayers were preparing for the final battle. Unaware of Angoroth's clairsentience, they refreshed enhancement spells and discussed loose strategy. "What are we lookin at in there?" Anaie asked Bloodscream. "Angoroth will probably have guards, probably a handful of his most sycophantic warlocks, and demons of course." Bloodscream explained to his visitors. "That's not counting the tentacles or the maws." He added. "Wut tentacles mon?" Sangjai asked glancing over his shoulder. "I no like tentacles, dey be grabby." he declared with disdain. Bloodscream snorted. "Ya, grabby they are and strong enough to rip a tauren in half in about five seconds. I seen Angoroth in action or..err.. I will see him in action... damn this time travel crap gets confusing." he stopped to gather his thoughts, the other Bloodscream jumped in. "You saw it fight in a future we've come to change. We do this right and the chronotronic shockwave will be devastating." his voice echoed from beneath his visor. It sounded somewhat distorted but not enough to fool someone who knew the voice. Inside the temple, Angoroth who was still bending his will to spy on his guests, heard the voice and his left eye would have twitched if he had one. "Two Bloodscreams..." he said to himself softly, trying not to shake with rage. "TWO!?!" He shouted to no one. How he hated that orc. Words failed to convey his hatred for the insolant green skinned brute. "Two..." he repeated in an almost resigned tone. "Wait..." he caught himself before resignation claimed it's prize. "I can kill him twice..." this thought seemed enough to sustain him for now. He returned to his spying. Bloodscream had gathered his thoughts and taken the mantle of the conversation back from his other self. "I noted when I saw Angoroth do battle that there is a brief delay between the summoning and the materializing of the tentacles. You see purple smoke forming at your feet get the hell outta there." "fire bad." the other Bloodscream added, something the Slayers had heard a thousand times before. It just meant keep your eyes on where you're stepping. Words of wisdom for any assault team. "You're sure he's in there?" Eclypse asked knowing the time was almost upon them. Bloodscream turned to his other self who nodded his giant helm before answering. "Oh ya, he's in there. I've had my interdictor cranked since the moment we got here, first thing I turned on. It's not as powerful as the one I have in the shop but it's scrambling nether-x cohesion for a good thousand feet in every direction. Obviously I can't run the thing all day on a micro fusion core..." "Obviously mon..." Malstrom said with a toothy grin. He had stopped paying attention after Bloodscream had cranked something or other. Bloodscream raised his visor and gave Malstrom the stink-eye. Malstrom found this very amusing and chuckled softly, forgetting for a moment the unease he felt at being in this alien place. Bloodscream lowered his visor and mumbled something about large metal boots striking deep into troll butt territory. The other Bloodscream continued debriefing them on what he knew of Angoroth's powers. "He can release souls too, specifically ones he's absorbed. If you see a distorded translucent figure appear, you take it down fast and you do so at range. No one try to engage those things in melee, you will not live long if you try. If you're quick enough and you catch Angoroth in the act, you can prevent him from releasing the souls but it's a quick cast so you have very little time to catch him." At about this time, Angoroth decided he'd heard quite enough and didn't really see a need to afford his guests any more time to prepare. Bloodscream was still talking when the doors to the temple suddenly burst open sending the charges tumbling into the room. Looking into the chamber they could see Angoroth standing at the back of the room in a summoning circle, a writhing mass of shadow at his feet. "Bloodscreams...Slayers...Do come in, I imagine it was a harrowing trip. Come let me bring you the peace your mandate requires."
  8. Inside the central chamber, the creature known as Angoroth was well aware of the situation outside. The room itself was large and contained several tables, a large area at the back of the room held a summoning circle and some warlocks stood around, speaking in hushed tones. They were rather perturbed by their complete inability to summon anything. They had for the most part each some form of demon but mostly for research purposes, now battle was looming and several had wanted to replace their imps with larger more imposing guards. They had channeled, they had incanted and yet, nothing had come. They had continued to whisper hurriedly among themselves until Angoroth grew weary of hearing them. "Oh do shut up." He had croaked from beneath his luxurious robes, his voice a raspy hiss tinged with madness. They had stood there quietly until the chaos of their thoughts became a raucous cacophony grating against Angoroth's last nerve. He felt their fear and it sickened him and was disturbing his meditation. He raised his left hand ever so slightly. He heard the sounds of viscera spraying and the wet muffled last words of some warlocks. He waited a few moments savoring the silence. He then felt the rush of several life forces consumed. He closed his eyes and realized the obvious. It was not possible for The Grim to be here. He might be unable to open any kind of portal but the hearthstone still allowed communication. He knew for certain that the druid Coyotl and the blood knight Krinathalasa were outside. He had also heard the brutish oaf Bloodscream. His reports numbered them at a dozen or so. Angoroth deduced his guests were the Slayers and filled the roster appropriately. He had a spy following Krinathalasa at this very moment who swore on his life he was looking at the blood knight at that very moment in the Firelands. He had similar reports for the druids Coyotl and Sangjai. They could not be in two places at once, something was afoot. He would hopefully learn more when he consumed them in a few moments. The impossibility of their assault was after all, relatively meaningless. Angoroth had been blessed on several occasions by his dark masters and the Old Gods did not trifle with such gifts. A dozen? A paltry dozen? It would take a hundred fully trained enemy with the best in magical gear before he would consider wasting time being concerned about the possibility of defeat. Twelve Grim would hardly be a distraction from his work, though killing Bloodscream would no doubt bring him a sliver of joy. More intriguing by far the events that had brought them here. His spies were still following their Enforcer Abric who was a mere hour away. Why would their enforcer still be making his way to Undercity with only a handful of guards if his Slayers were assaulting his temple? The only answer he liked was that the enforcer did not know. What kind of Grim assault would the enforcer not have ordered? The only good answer was that no Grim would assault Undercity without the enforcer's say so. Whoever these interlopers were, they were not The Grim. They might very well look like them, answer to their names and possess the totality of their individual abilities but they were not The Grim. Now this warranted further thought. He had nothing to fear from a dozen mere Grim but what if these dopplegangers had greater individual power? If each of them was the equal of say, ten men... Well that made things a little more interesting the creature thought. Perhaps a worthy challenge was upon him. Surely the Old Gods were not above such a test. Perhaps he had been a little hasty in consuming those warlocks though he seriously doubted it. Having had time to truly digest their power he knew with certainty he would make far better use of it than they ever could have. He heard the fighting outside stop. He bent his will to it and saw them outside the doors. Eleven of them. He quickly put names to the faces. The druids Coyotl and Sangjai, the priests Eclypse and Frowne, the shamen Kharzak and Malstrom, the blood elf Krinathalasa, the rogue Anaie, the warrior Bloodscream and the hunter Mohan. Only one's features were completely covered in a massive helm, a second orc. He assumed since the size was pretty close to Bloodscream that it was the warrior Servitor but he noticed both orcs were placing explosives on the door and he knew Servitor lacked the intellect for such a craft. His gaze returned to Malstrom. Why would the Chief of the Windtalkers be here without his army? He was more certain now than ever these were not The Grim. He had a sudden flash of inspiration and his gaze returned to that foul orc Bloodscream. He had an extensive file on the orc. A master engineer with a fanatical fervor for exploring the ancient magics of the titans. The technocratic sorceries had always seemed to Angoroth a waste of time but he knew for certain the orc was known among engineers as a leading authority on dimensional travel, one of the many ancient disciplines of the titans. He studied them with care while they worked. He was well aware of the presence of near infinite worlds but his expertise had always been in the opening of demonic portals. What wicked secret of the Titans had that wretched orc unleashed at his door? He focused on the orc, his mind filling with the vision as he watched him complete his work and step back from the doors. Angoroth hissed to his vision as he rose from his chair, his fist clenching around his sword. "What have you done you filthy green monster? I know it was you. All of it...You. What have you done?"
  9. The floor was sealed off. The guards were almost all dead. The Grim detachment known as Slayers were becoming whole once more. They felt strange. Anyone of them who had ever done any dimensional travel was familiar with the way one's entire flesh seemed to vibrate ever so quickly when exposed to the energy of a place they were not native to. Kharzak, Anaie and Bloodscream all had at least a few dimensional incursions worth of experience; albeit all those incursions had been accidents, irregular shifts in quantum alignment during the final stages of a dimensional portal, usually caused by an unpredictable spike in ambient nether-x cohesion. The long and the short of it was, they had never done it on purpose. The Twisting Nether was a big place, and by Bloodscream's calculations, contained a near infinite number of worlds of which he was aware of perhaps two hundred and had visited maybe fifty over his many adventures. This however was different. They had shifted parallax fields, jumped quantums entirely. They were in an entirely different set of near infinite worlds and they existed here already. Dimensional travel might have seemed fantastic and epic, treading on alien landscapes in pursuit of great treasure or an enemy. This was different, they felt alien. They were the ones who did not belong and every inch of their flesh subtly reminded them with every step they took. The casters had even more to contend with as they felt the unease in the very energies they reached out to command. Near the centre of the temple now isolated from rest of Undercity, a half a dozen twelve foot skeletons in full arms and armor stood as the last line before the central chamber doors. These were not your run of mill undead. Every inch of their bones was etched with ancient and terrible runes. It had taken the sanity of two warlocks to enchant each of these creatures and their bones needed to be covered at all times for fear lesser servant's head simply explode at the sight of the ancient writings. They knew no fear, no hunger, no rest. They existed for one purpose and one purpose alone. Master had spoken, commanded, they would serve. No one was to enter this door. They heard the explosions though they thought nothing of them beyond acknowledging they were the sounds of attack. They saw guards running by and heard the clash of steel, the cry of lightning, the whispers of shadow. None of it mattered. Until something tried to enter these doors, they did not move. It took a little while but eventually the sounds of battle died down and began to move closer in shorter bursts. They noted the sounds came from either ends of the "T" shaped intersection they stood in. Behind them was a short hall that ended in a pair of heavy stone doors braced in steel. Eventually, they saw enemies enter from the East and West simultaneously. On one side, coming down the hall at full charge was Krinathalasa the blood knight. She beat her weapon against her shield as she ran and a surprisingly low growl began to build in her throat. Every step she took saw the light around her grow until she was all they could see to one side. She was not alone, behind her ran the rest of her fist, shrouded in her light. They appeared only a huge looming shadowy mass, full of jagged edges and angry sounds. The corrupted bones turned three to a side to face the approaching Grim. Krin was now screaming at full pitch and almost blinding in intensity. The guards could not but look at her, she was all they could focus on. They knew she would charge any second now and they prepared for her attack but just as they were convinced she was launching herself forward she crouched behind her shield and came to a dead stop with the lone word "FIRE!". The shadowy mass behind her heaved and from beyond the curtain of light came arrows, lightning and shadow at frightening speed and intensity. Just as the first volley flew over the crouched blood knight, she rose with a start and waves of holy light slammed into the guards as she engaged the trio in melee. Still hidden by the light, Mohan, Kharzak, Sangjai and Eclypse unloaded into the twisted dead keeping them from their goal. Meanwhile on the other side, things were less mystical in appearance but that was hardly comforting to anyone who saw them charge. Coyotl in his massive bear form was picking up momentum and readying for the final burst of speed that would carry him into sweet battle. Two wide orcish forms strode side by side behind the druid. In perfect synch their large armored boots pounded the stone floor as unknown to each other, identical battle computers aquired targets, presented tactical options and announced with blinking lights that a wide assortment of devices and weapons stood ready. Safely behind this disturbing barricade of fur and steel; Frowne and Anaie strutted with calm confidence and Malstrom walked in measured steps, an uneasy look on his tusked face. Frowne shot a glance over at the shaman, then over to Anaie who had also noticed something they were not aware of was bothering the healer. "Why the long face Mal?" Frowne asked from behind his shadowy visage. "We been kickin' tail!" Anaie added producing her ever present third eye from somewhere on her person. "Ain't we?" she asked the eye."Yes we is." She cooed at the slimy thing in her hand. Malstrom snorted and shook his head. "Dun ya feel it mon? Da spirits answa when I be callin but dey do not know my soul...I no belong 'ere... none of us do... dis be unnatural." Frowne and Anaie were not really students of the shamanic ways, but they had learned to appreciate their cryptic insight. "Can you smell the stink of corruption in his hall Mal?" the shadow priest asked, his undead nostrils full of the filth that seeped slowly from the corrupted bones guarding the door. Malstrom nodded. Anaie suddenly let out a sigh of relief. "Whew I thought that was you." she told the eye. "I don't imagine what we're doing here is any more unnatural than that, would you not agree?" Frowne concluded. Malstrom was forced to agree but that did not change his mood. "Spirits tink we should no be ere, I fear da universe will force balance upon us." Anaie interrupted their musings. "Heads up, we're fightin!" she declared drawing her swords and heading off to find an opening to stab something through. Frowne slapped Malstrom softly in the back before preparing to unleash his dark powers into the skeletons. "Worry not, this shall all be at an end before you know it." Malstrom watched the priest take a few steps forward and unleash waves of power into the fray. Standing a few feet back watching his Grim in action, he could not help but feel the truth of Frowne's words. "Ya mon..." he said softly to no one in particular. "That be what worryin I."
  10. On the southern part of the Lower Bluff in what had once been Thunderbluff stood the smoldering ruins of an inn. What made an inn an inn? Was it the local cuisine? The cheap ale? No what made an inn in Azeroth was membership into the Hearth. Properly licensed and endorsed, an innkeeper was given a stone, a very special hearth stone that others could attune to, bind to. This particular inn only had three walls left and about half a roof but there on the ground floor amidst the piles of rubble was a half buried firepit and among the traditional Taurahe designs upon it's chimney, sat a housing into which was set one of the afore mentioned stones. The stone sat quietly for none remained alive who were attuned to her or so it believed. It had resigned itself to abandonment and hoped perhaps some day someone would come for her. No one was as surprised as the stone to suddenly feel the call of a hearthstone. It hummed ever so softly from behind it's shield of debris for a few seconds and then was quiet once more, thankful for this final chance it had been given to bring a Tauren home. Mohan appeared crouched behind some rubble. He listened as he slowly took in his surroundings. The inn in it's day had been quite accomodating now the majority of the second floor had collapsed and lay akimbo on the first. It was going to be tight but it was going to have to do. Mohan grabbed his hearthstone and called upon the power of his guild. Soon twenty five Grim crouched in the wreckage. They split into smaller groups and again called upon their order's power, there were others still waiting to be called. The guards were mostly ghouls and abominations and a handful of warlocks. With the great lifts destroyed, there was no way up onto the mesa. This combined with knowledge that there were no enemy forces in the area made the guards at ease. The dead however are nothing if not ever watchful, they stood at their posts, unmoving, unblinking, just waiting and staring. They were nonetheless caught unaware when without warning, Mohan and the undead Grim came bursting out of what was left of the inn. The air itself was suddenly kicked awake by the rush of power. In an instant, the place was alive with it. Lightning tore the air spitting sparks as it did. Raw arcane power, willed to ice or fire or shaped in its primal form coursed through the mesa slamming into the occupying force. Arrows, knives, bodies were airborn as The Grim made their way to the Upper Bluff cutting down the undead forces of the RAS with savage ease as they went. Soon the Upper Bluff was theirs and fists of Grim were already clearing out the Rises. Mohan was headed for the Spirit Rise with a few fists. He arrived to find an Viktor and an undead Yemana leading their fists in clearing out the last few forsaken on the Rise. Mohan knew that surely one of the warlocks had managed to get a message off. He however highly doubted that any of their forces could be here in under an hour and Malstrom had told him that would be plenty of time. He moved to the centre of the clearing and quickly built a fire. He lit a signaling arrow and aimed his bow straight into the darkness. The arrow rose for several seconds and finally flared a deep green for two seconds before turning to a dull green ember and falling out of the sky. Mohan and The Grim, kept their eyes to the skies. Within moments Mohan heard the flapping of great wings and then he saw them, huge reptilian shadows against the moon, two dragons, one dwarfing the other, they looked like they were coming in for a landing. The Grim watched and readied weapons, waiting for Mohan's command, they had named him Enforcer earlier that day as they waited for dakness in some nearby caves. It had seemed urgent a replacement be named for Abric, murdered by the R.A.S. The dragons landed and as they did they were recognized. The greater of the two was Nozdormu, the Timeless One. The smaller was Chief Malstrom's dragon form. A form he released upon landing, reverting to a troll clad in tribal armor, a crown of flames upon his brow and the shock of his ever present mohawk reaching for the stars. "Hey mon." The troll said solemly. The Grim broke out collectively into various nods and waves, most kept their eye on the mighty Bronze Dragon. Nozdormu knew he would make no friends here in his elven form and so remained a dragon. "Things are not as they should be last of the Taurahe." the wyrm said softly, his words effortlessly reaching everyone on the mesa. "Be time to swim up riva mon..." Malstrom added. "swim up riva..." he repeated making a snake like motion with his hand for emphasis. The dragon spoke again. "You must release your hatred, your rage." "Angah will only cloud yer tinkin mon, make it harda fer da spirits to reach ya." Malstrom added. Mohan grinned at hearing his brother's words repeated to him in his time of need. He didn't understand what they meant however but that did not bother him as he had seldom made sense of shamanic musings in the past. Malstrom continued. "Dis ritual be givin yer voice fully to da spirit world mon, here unda da spirit moon, in da time of da blood moon. A conjunction of war an spirit which occurs only once ev'ry tree hunerd years mon. In dis place, dis time, is time to fix time, to send da spirits of war upriva...only yer rage can guide dem deyr, only you, only now... can you scream da blood scream? Can you guide da spirits of yer ancestahs to war mon? Nozdormu spoke again. " Under this conjunction, I can and will open a rift. I sensed a temporal incursion a few weeks ago just as all this began, I believe there they came the closest to ending this, closest to preventing all this. They tried to right this world but failed. I believe the intervention of your ancestral spirits would best be applied then. I can open the way but I cannot show them the path. Only your scream can show them the way and only if you surrender every ounce of your hatred, do you understand little Taurahe? Mohan wasn't certain at all if he understood but he felt confident he had the gist of it and Malstrom would lead him through the ritual. It was all quite meaningless at this stage he felt. It wasn't like he could back out now, not that he would have. "Hoka Hey Malstrom. Start your ritual." he said with a grin.
  11. Anaie knew Undercity like the back of her hand. She had laid out the floor plan in detail, everyone knew their part. They broke off into two fists but moved as one down the hall towards the stairs; as they reached the stairs, a pair of thick-boned guards were coming down. They met a rather quick and violent demise, never having truly grasped what was happening. Coyotl lead the charge up the stairs with the two Bloodscreams hot on his heels. Frowne and Anaie weren't far behind, keeping an eye on Malstrom, the healers safety was paramount. Krinathalasa kept right on running up the stairs with her fist behind her. Kharzak and Eclypse, followed by Sangjai and finally Mohan. As this worlds Bloodscream had explained, the guard presence on the second and third floors would be formidable. They could not be allowed to get into squads and gets their enhancement spells ready. Chaos was their only chance and The Grim understood chaos all too well. On the second floor, Coyotl stood between two archways and engaged a trio of guards. Their attention focused, they never saw a pair of orcs come charging in a flurry of axes and shield. If they had failed to notice the orcs then they stood no chance to detect the forsaken rogue Anaie. Their first indication she was at their backs was the sharp pain and burning of her poisoned blades inside their fetid flesh. Frowne stayed a little farther behind calling down his shadows, lapping at their lifeforce like hungry dogs. They tried to keep it quiet as long as they could but eventually the sounds of battle on both floors echoed through the underground citadel. About the time one could have reasonably expected the alarm to be raised a plaintive wail echoed through the place. Krinathalasa stood at the main intersection of the third floor, she shone like the sun. Wave after wave of stolen holy light radiated from her. Stolen or not, the flesh of the dead respond poorly to such things. As a half a dozen forsaken guards threw themselves at her, arrows, lightning and darkness came to her aid. Standing slightly down the hall that led to the stairs, Sangjai flooded the elven blood knight with his healing magics while Mohan, Kharzak and Eclypse rained death down on her attackers. Speed was of the essence. They had gambled a little pushing out this far, if troops came down the stairs from above, they would need to pull Krin back and things might get sticky. "Now Kharzak!" Mohan called over the stone. The troll shaman and engineer withdrew from calling the storm spirits down on the guards to start placing the global thermal sapper charges the Bloodscreams had given him. He personally had always found the subtle grace of the gnomish school more to his liking but in this instance he was hard pressed to find fault in these particular devices. The Bloodscreams had discussed briefly the explosive capacity of the charges. They had agreed that four charges would be more than sufficient to collapse the stairwell. Kharzak busied himself to setting six as it appeared the Bloodscreams shared a taste for overkill. The battle raged on and only a pair of servants came hesitantly down the stairs. One was violently consumed by a fire elemental and the other ate a bolt of lightning his face disagreed with. Both died almost instantly and Kharzak hastily dismissed his firey servant as the glaring lack of experience with high explosives became apparent. Luckily, the troll did not blow himself to kingdom come. "Done." he declared over the stone. "I think the bulk of this floor is history." Krin replied, surrounded by two dozen bodies. "Bloodscream, third floor secure, charges down, we're coming back down." Mohan informed the others as they began falling back towards Kharzak and the stairs. On the second floor, Bloodscream was both in heaven and filled with pure hatred, being two orcs was convenient that way. Back to back about six feet apart, this worlds Bloodscream seethed in his rage with every slam of his viciously spiked shield and every savage hack of his axe. To his left, Bloodscream spun his twin monstrous weapons as he chuckled with the constant flow of enemies. Always however, he kept his eye to beyond those he engaged in melee, ever ready for the appearance of a warlock. When a warlock did present himself, Bloodscream would always spot him first. He would pounce through the guards and slam into the unsuspecting warlock. The smash he opened with always blasted their defensive spells down for a few seconds and Bloodscream would ignore all else and deliver three or four precision strikes with massive weapon, inevitably crushing the warlocks skull and as the guards prepared to strike Bloodscream, a ghostly tendril would fire from behind Coyotl. Bloodscream, hearing the tentacles ghostly whispering closing in, would taunt the forsaken from behind his armored visor. "Later losers..." his muffled voice came as the tendril yanked him back to Frownes side, between the other Bloodscream and Coyotl. Coyotl never really figured out where Anaie was hiding but after a while he noticed alot of the creatures engaging him were already wounded and his keen bear senses caught the stink of venom on several of them. He surmised Anaie was not far at all. Once the initial wave was killed they made their way to the second stairwell. There, Coyotl engaged all comers with Anaie and Frowne at his side and Malstrom keeping everyone alive. The Bloodscreams busied themselves to setting charges in the stairwell, five on this floor, five on the floor above. As Anaie severed the spine of the most recent waves final combatant, Mohan announced they were on their way. Anaie shot a glance at the Bloodscreams, the one from her own world nodded his armored head and a muffled cry of "Thirty seconds." came out. "Come down one floor and move to the first intersection." Bloodscream called to Mohan over the stone. He was done setting the charges and he heard the other him coming down the stairs, presumably done as well. They fell back to the first intersection on the other side of the central chamber. Krins fist was covering the eastern stairwell, Coyotls was at the western stairs. No doubt Greebo was not without guards in the central chamber but that was all the help he was going to get. Anaie nodded. Bloodscream called out once more to his Grim over the stone. "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" He flipped a series of switches on his belt. There was a tremendous series of explosions and the sharp cry of shattering stone. No reinforcements would be coming.
  12. There were only about a hundred of the dead things left in Thunderbluff. The bulk of the force had moved on. Mohan had watched them leave, a force of Forsaken some four thousand strong. At least a thousand of those were former residents of Thunderbluff. Mohan almost wept at the sight of so many Tauren now walking dead. He wondered where they were off to, he assumed South towards Feralas. He thought of his brother Yichimet and felt his hand wrap tightly against the bow. He remembered his brothers words: "Anger will only cloud your thoughts, make it harder for the spirits to reach you." "You look kind of mad." Anaie whispered to the hunter from behind the rocks where they hid. Mohan turned his gaze with annoyance to the rogue and snorted once. "Ya think?" He barked under his breath. "That's good" the rogue continue undeterred by the hunter wrath. "Anger makes you strong, lets you push through pain and achieve your goals." Mohan didn't really think about it, he just commented. "Yichi would not have agreed with you." "Well, sure..." the rogue started. "But then look at what that got hi...*GAH*" Mohans hand was wrapped around the Forsaken's throat. "Perhaps now is not the best time to speak poorly of my brother?" Anaie blinked and waved Coyotl off as the druid began closing with the hunter, concerned. "Good point..." the rogue croaked slowly out. "Not that I breathe all that much but I'm going to need my throat." she continued. Mohan released her. "I'm sorry Anaie, this situation... I am off balance." he admitted, as much to himself as the others. "Nothing to it, nothing new for me, still dead. I don't imagine being the last one of us breathing is doing anything for your mood." Mohan felt Coyotl's hand on his shoulder. He couldn't help but notice how cold the druids massive hand felt. "Did Malstrom not say he could cure us?" the druid remind him. Mohan nodded. "So all we have to do is find Yichimet..." the druid began. Mohan interrupted. "Yichi was not raised. He saw which way the wind was blowing. He lead a charge into their warlocks. He was incinerated, nothing but ash remains." "All I could do was watch from across the valley..." the hunter trailed off. Coyotl sighed softly. "Yichi knew what he was doing. If he layed down his life for the mandate then he is to be celebrated, not mourned. A dead Kharzak who had been watching and listening from ten feet away, chimed in. "While I'm all for honoring the dead, can we take care of the small matter of revenge first? With those words they nodded to each other and headed out. Having spent the day in the Barrens traking down their own, when night came, Mohan and fifty or so dead Grim, turned their gaze to Thunderbluff. They would have to be in place and ready to strike by moonup tomorrow. A little earlier would ensure they had time for the ritual, too early and the Forsaken would have time to send reinforcements. "Do we have an actual plan for the assault?" Anaie asked the hunter. "Slaughter them all." Mohan replied to Anaie's approval. "My kind of plan." the rogue concluded. They moved with purpose, slowly. They needed to be in place by dawn, Mohan knew of some caves near Thunderbluff that could conceal them until night came again. Anaie closed ranks with the hunter as they made their way into the Valley. "I don't know why... but in case it becomes relevant, I just wanted you to know... cheese... I like it."
  13. Guard duty is like hell he felt. Guard duty this deep in their own fortress was just plain cruel. How would anyone get to this position? There would be alarms, the chaos of activity. He could protect this armory from clean across Undercity if the need arose, making him stand here was just petty vengance for something or other he must have said or done. Humans didn't know how good they had it, crazy dead bitches was a special kind of hell. He was going to be on guard duty for the rest of his life. When she got here and found him, there would be hell to pay and he was the only idiot holding the purse strings. He had heard of some guards being sent to the labs presumably to guard but word was they never came out. That was no doubt what would happen to him, he would be sent to the lab and no one would ever hear from him again. Served him right he thought. He could have applied himself in his youth, perhaps if had bothered to see if he had any arcane aptitudes, maybe if he had practiced more and rested less. He could be one of the feared Royal Apothecaries instead of a guard. Admittedly, after this, he probably wouldn't be much of a guard. He would have to endure the ridicule of his peers of that much he was certain. There's no way she wouldn't make sure everyone found out about this and let's face it, they would laugh. He thought perhaps he heard footsteps down the stone hallway but he lost the sound as he listened for it. Maybe she would come alone. If she was alone maybe he could appeal to her decency.. Maybe he could stab her, yes if she came alone he could just stab her and then return to the barracks lamenting that she never showed up. He could easily drop her corpse down one of the many channels and she would vanish beneath the city before anyone knew to miss her. That would certainly solve a lot of his problems. Yes, the more he considered it the more he felt if she came alone, stabbing her was the most attractive option; well, at least for him. Course she was a pretty good fighter and she was quick. She already hated him if he gave her a reason she could easily dump HIM down one of these channels. Definitely he felt that if she came alone killing her would in deep be the best option provided he could overcome his natural cowardice. He would definitely kill her, if she were alone that is. There, footsteps. She was coming, that had to be her. He heard her voice calling his name. He heard other voices, she was not alone. He lowered his head and the unavoidable sinking started setting in. "You don't think the fool is in there?" he heard her asking someone. "Get that door open." she ordered. "If he's in there gods help him I'll end him." He backed away from the door and fell to his knees. She wasn't one for idle threats, once they opened the door, he was done. His lamp sputtered it's apologies and left him to face his fate alone. All was darkness. He dropped his head to the floor and exhausted the last possible avenue of hope. "Gods below..." he muttered. "Please help me." He heard a popping sound and a faint whistling. He sat up. There was a light growing behind him. He spun to face it and backed up against the door. He felt the door unlock and the whistling grew louder and the light grew brighter. He brought a hand to his face to shield himself from the light, trying to see it's source. The door started to open behind him and he caught sight of a writhing mass of shadows in the brightess. "Gods below?" he asked the shadow. His answer came without a sound and as the life gurggled wetly out of him, his eyes focused on the fletching of the arrow in his throat. The doors opened and he fell backwards landing at the feet of a Forsaken woman flanked by Abominations. She watched him falling, saw the arrow in his throat and instantly recognized the fletching. "The Grim!" She exclaimed. Anaie stepped out of the light into the armory preceeded by a fan of knives. "Ain't she the clever one, tell her what she's won." the rogue declared. The Bloodscreams and Coyotl were upon her. The abominations were slow to react, the explosions of shadow and lightning might have been to blame. The Tauren druid threw his full ursine mass into slamming that little Forsaken into the wall and immediately swallowed most of her head and started gnawing on her skull. There was an assortment of magical and martial displays that led to the quick demise of the Abominations. "Everyone remember their job?" Krinathalasa asked lowering the visor on her helm and readying her weapon. The Slayers readied themselves and found their respective fists. Bloodscream raised the visor on his helm. "Don't take you wristguards off and try not to take a direct hit to the wrist." The Grim nodded. "Then I'll see you on the other side..." Kharzak said lowering his goggles into place. Anaie felt compelled to say something as leader of the Slayers. She stepped out into the centre of their huddle and held up a finger. "I like cheese." she said with purpose. "don't ever forget that."
  14. Death was so much more enjoyable than life. As he watched his new recruits slowly shambling up the hill behind him, the necromancer could not help but feel conflicted. Why this world insisted on resisting the inevitable peace of undeath had always escaped him but then, he was dead. He didn’t see what it was about these individuals that had caused High Apothecary Greebo such concern. Frankly, this necromancer felt they were all far more Grim now than they had ever been. Had he been one for mirthful observation he might have grinned at the thought that these shuffling husks had espoused the motto “Peace through annihilation” which surely, he felt was commendable; However it was only now, after having been annihilated that they had truly found the peace they so dearly sought. He approached a clearing where two of the former Grim rogues were hunched over something. He moved closer and saw a tabard of the Grim. His forsaken dogs had blue paste smeared all over their faces. He took a closer look and realized the tabard was smothered in the stuff and the Forsaken, had rubbed their faces all over it absorbing the scents. He smeared some of the paste on his finger and examined it. It had a vaguely floral smell to it, a hint of earthroot, Gromsblood and something he could not quite place. He gingerly picked up the tabard and placed it in a bag. He would examine it in greater details in his laboratory. His immediate concern was why, what purpose did this serve? Was it a message? He grabbed what had once been Inzema by the scruff of the neck and pulled his face close to his. The paste didn’t seem to be having any form of effect on the creature. Surely this had been left behind by the Tauren Mohan, still clinging to the delusion that somehow, one creature could enact a difference. He could see no discoloration, no reaction whatsoever. Inzema’s tongue would occasional dart out and clean some of the paste from his mouth. A poison of some kind? The smell was not powerful enough to hinder tracking. Mohan was not known to be an alchemist of any kind so what purpose could this possibly serve? He turned to see the others were now streaked with blue and the creature formerly known as Anaie was smearing the others with paste taken from her own face and hands. “Stop!” He commanded. The creature stopped and turned it’s dead gaze towards master. “Why did you do that?” it asked the creature, knowing it’s will was stripped and it could not answer in any meaningful way. “Sharing?” the creature offered hesitantly. The necromancer was stunned. Had the creature answered? The paste… how could it… “Tastes like flowers” Inzema offered as he leapt on the necromancer. He did not scream, he did not run, he merely had his spine removed and gnawed on a while as the forsaken, one by one, slowly began to look around to find Anaie and Inzena, tearing a forsaken body to shreds. There were over a dozen of them on the hill and once Mohan was quite certain the paste had done its job. He came out of his hiding place twenty yards away and waved tentatively. Mohan stood looking at his brethren, now all Forsaken. His gaze lingered the longuest on Coyotl and Guduk, both Tauren. “I’m sorry I allowed this to happen.” He said softly in Taurahe. “I don’t feel any different.” Guduk offered in a weak attempt to make Mohan feel better. Coyotl stared at his arm. He lowered it and snorted decisively. “That which was done can be undone. How did we get here? I only remember feeling lost in a mist and wandering… for what felt like years, then a smell, a taste… I followed them both and they brought me here.” Mohan nodded, producing a now half empty clay jar with trollish markings on it. “There was a horrible wind storm last night…” Mohan explained. “In the morning, I found this jar on the ground near my camp and there was a note tied to the thing.” Coyotl grabbed the jar and examined it. “This is the symbol of the Windtalkers.” The druid asserted. Mohan nodded. “Chief Malstrom sends his greetings and says the spirit moon will soon be upon us, on the second night of the Blood Moon, the spirits of our ancestors will be listening. If we enact the ritual atop the spirit rise he believes we can awaken the warrior spirits of the Kao and take back our city. He gave me instruction on how to release you from your deadsleep and assures me that provided I bring enough gnome, he and his kin can restore us.” Coyotl chuckled. “It’s good to have friends…the Blood Moon starts tomorrow, this leaves us little time.” Twenty Grims was a start. “We free as many of the others as we can.” Mohan ordered. “There are two other groups of Grims being field tested in the Barrens today, with their numbers added to our own, I think we stand a good chance to take the Rise.” He turned to see a large chest had apparently appeared out of thin air, it’s thick lid was open and tabards, armor and weapons were being distributed. Anaie grinned. “What? I like to keep a chest or two in me pocket for rainy days?” She was holding a small metallic rod lined with crystals and dials. When they were done arming themselves, she turned a dial on the rod and the chest vanished with a sucking sound. Mohan shook his head. “Necromancers, Shamen, Warlocks… I can deal with but you engineers, you’re a dangerous lot aren’t you?” It was Inzema who answered, pulling his goggles down onto his face. “We have our momentssss…” he chuckled, licking the last of the blue paste off his chin.
  15. Bloodscream finished laying out his plan. The Slayers listened quietly, most still had many questions running through their heads. It was Eclypse who spoke first as the other Bloodscream was fastening the matrix stabilizer to her wrist. “Is this safe?” she asked. “Perfectly” both Bloodscreams lied in synch. “Quite so…” Kharzak chimed in, an engineer himself. The troll shaman threw a sideways glance at Bloodscream, smirking ever so slightly. He knew as well as any other engineer that safe meant “Satisfied Appropriate Fear Exists” which, in the parlance of the profession meant that while all attentions had been lent to the consideration, things sometimes, went horribly wrong. Anaie, the Forsaken rogue and leader of the Slayers, kept switching her gaze from one Bloodscream to the other. “This could become confusing.” She declared. The original Bloodscream addressed her concerns. “Ya I’ve thought of that…” he commented as he pulled his goggles off and stuffed a small device into his ear. “Since I’ll just be a guest there, I figured I’d wear a full helm, save everyone some confusion." Anaie nodded, pointing at the table where a variety of objects were temporarily standing in for far greater and more dangerous foes. “Dis plan, is gunna be tight.” The rogue observed. “It’ll be fine.” Bloodscream declared from behind a gargantuan helm. “We get in, team one heads straight for the second floor, team two starts securing the stairs wells. They are not expecting an attack, least of all one launched from the armory.” He raised the visor on the helm and looked at himself. “We WILL arrive in the armory yes?” Bloodscream nodded. “I took bearings of the armory last year during this other thing… not important now but yes the coordinates we have used should land us in the armory… provided we calculated the parallax shift coefficient properly and accounted for the nether-X interference and dimensional eddies. Bloodscream stared at himself wishing he would shut up as the longer he rambled the more it made it seem that the plan was doomed to failure. “Everyone strapped in?” he asked in regards to the stabilizers strapped to their wrists. “Everyone but you.” The other Bloodscream noted, pointing to his wrist. Bloodscream looked at his wrist and the lack of stabilizer on said wrist. He was quite certain he had been the first stabilizer he strapped on. “Just grab one from the shelf and let’s get a move on already.” Bloodscream snorted at himself and headed off to get a stabilizer. “I would point out the futility in rushing a chronotronic dimensional incursion, you’ll get there at the same time either way.” Krinathalasa, the blood elf Blood Knight, could contain herself no longer and called out after Bloodscream. “Perhaps Blood but I’m sure you don’t have calculations to make me endure the interesting aroma that always develops when the ten of us are in an enclosed space for too long so please… hurry.” “Gnome?” Malstrom inquired shoving a partially chewed severed gnome leg under her nose.