Khorvis

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Khorvis last won the day on April 19 2017

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About Khorvis

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  • Birthday 02/24/1985

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  1. [[ This is going to be postponed until the Fall. I didn't take the time to drum up enough support to make this successful right now. ]]
  2. As the winter's blanket receded, melting into the Telaari Basin, dreaming glories poked their heads from beneath Nagrand's plains. Clefthooves in heat, talbuks rutting, spring had arrived, and the green grasses made their annual pilgrimage up towards the Red World's sun. The winds gusting off the Twisting Nether whistled past the holy mountain of Oshu'gun, carrying the promise of change and renewal over the barrier hills into the hovels and sanctums of Shattrath City. A rogue breeze slipped through one of the portals to Orgrimmar and rattled the parchment of a freshly printed flyer hanging fro
  3. Chapter One - The Southfury Part One Khorvis slid down from the back of the war wolf, wincing and bending over a fist clutched to his stomach. The old wound given to him by that Sanctuary wench throbbed and ached after the tumultuous galloping across Orgrimmar's western bridge. Up the edgewaters of the Southfury the party had raced at a breakneck pace, chasing the slobbering jowls of their new lupine companion. Only after a mad league did Shmuggles relent, stopping to pant and gorge himself upon river water. The aged orc glanced quizzically at the Blackrock dagger hanging from h
  4. [[ The next, less dour, chapter following Grief. ]] The zeppelin flight from Tirisfal to Orgrimmar had left Khorvis covered from head to toe in kodo vomit. Bes'thra, the orc's trusty mount for the many campaigns since the Horde landed upon Kalimdor's shores, was having none of the early spring turbulence patterns that gusted 'round the Maelstrom. Despite Khorvis's best efforts to placate the wailing beast, wave after wave of partially digested dehydrated dwarf meat (as was her favorite) splashed through the Thundercaller's hold. Considering the unruly headwind and the extended t
  5. Thanks, Kexti. Submitted, and I second a merge with LVM.
  6. Khorvis

    Grief

    He had never before noticed how very overbearing the cloisters of the Grim Halls felt. The curved ceilings hung so low, pressing down upon Khorvis's spirit like a vice. As the passageways stretched on, they seemed to narrow to a thin crevasse through which he would need to wriggle... then get stuck... wedged in a dark cave... Khorvis shook his head and dispelled the image. Sucking in a deep, musty breath through his nostrils, he snatched a lit torch from a nearby sconce and marched onward. It was a foolish notion, for the Grim Halls had now been his sanctum for many years. He knew the twi
  7. Khorvis

    Grief

    Khorvis went by foot from Brill to the gates of Lordaeron City. The road was one of the few still paved in Tirisfal, seeing much traffic between the Undercity and the zeppelin towers. With the Dark Lady having taken the mantle of Warchief, the count of couriers and deathguards had more than doubled in their frantic work to secure the necessary machinery of the Horde's bureaucracy. The orc ignored them all as he made his way up the hill and through the crumbling outer wall. --- Sleep had evaded him during the remainder of the night, despite how fatigued he felt. His meager cot on the seco
  8. Khorvis

    Grief

    [[ A continuation from the finale of Dark Star Rising. ]] The old wooden door of the Gallow's End Tavern swung open with that same familiar creak. The last billows of the squall that had crashed into the Northern coast of Tirisfal whipped into the inn behind the trudging form of Khorvis Bloodstar until he pressed the door shut with a tired grunt. Brill had been only a short march from the Whispering Forests, and the old orc had needed some time and space to clear his head. Exhausted as he was, Khorvis did not fail to notice the guarded looks that the patrons and staff gave the newcom
  9. One of my biggest issues with writing is varying sentence structure. I find that it is where I am least creative and constantly worry that my prose will bore the reader, or unsuspend their disbelief. Example: Hurriedly through the hailstorm, the party ran afoul of a towering yeti. Alternatively: The party ran afoul of a towering yeti while hurrying through the hailstorm. I try to switch up my subject / verb / object order sentence by sentence to create some sort of fluidity, but there always comes a point where I feel as if I'm repeating myself. I'm starting to wonder if I spend
  10. [[ Some brutal metal for Mai'kull ]] "Matron!" Khorvis howled as the dust of the explosion began to settle, much of it still hanging in the silent air. He had seen her valiant sacrifice and tumbling form thrown from the voidlord just before the blast and the ringing in his ears started. Staggering to his feet, the orc shook his head and took two steps towards the scene of the druidess's fall before his boots gave out beneath him and his jaw connected with the chamber floor with a painful click! The wraithlings had descended from the ceiling and were swarming the pool. Two of the fr
  11. Through fire and shadow, the one-eyed pair worked their daggers through the inky flesh of the voidlord. Daggers forged in the Mandate, despite Baal'themar's current tabard, struck true to their nature. Khorvis knew that of all situations, it was in combat that one's true self outed itself. The lamb would nestle and cry in fear. The wolf would show her teeth and seek the heartsblood. These were the commandments of nature, chiseled into the stone of every mortal's flesh. Fanged as they were, many of their strikes simply met smoke and ephemera - this shadowy realm twisted and contorted inten
  12. "Khorvis we've come for you!" The Lasher spun in amazement and nearly took Theira's staff in the jaw. A shadow passed over him and he quickly glimpsed the bladed form of Baal'themar passing above in what could either be an incredibly brave or utterly stupid leap. The elf connected with the voidlord, twin daggers sinking deeply into the aberration's elongated neck. Khorvis felt his muscles sloughing off exhaustion and bruises as the Matron's healing magics took hold, and yet the queerness of the Shadowlands still left an emptiness gaping in the pit of his stomach. Emitting an ear-pier
  13. Edgar emerged from the shadow rift upon all fours, bounding like a blood hound. He circled the immediate hallway, crisscrossing between the legs of Baal'themar and Theira, sniffing the dusty air, before scrambling back through the portal. A pregnant silence was magnified by the muted image of the thunderstorm raging back on the other side in Tirisfal. After a few moments, Boneslave reemerged with Lilliana and Tahzani in tow, periodically spinning to make certain the two trolls followed. Satisfied that the party of five now moved as a unit, the decaying deathknight trotted down the sloping pass
  14. Mai'kull stood resolute as the waves of shadow washed over his robed form. The last traces of the Voidcaller drifted upwards as the gate to the Shadowlands bisected the elemental from earth to crown. An unfortunate end for a creature who had simply desired freedom, but every one had their parts to play. Master and slave, general and grunt, each participant in this ritual must embrace their station. The sacrifice at the hands of Chaoseater spread the way for the party and to their quarry. Through the gateway, a distorted and grayscale passage was revealed bearing all of the hallmarks of Titanic