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About Murue

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  • Birthday 07/17/1989

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  1. Murue

    A Reunion

    It had been almost a week since Myria had replied to the invitation. The time since seemed to both slow to a crawl and then also suddenly be on her before she could fully grasp what was happening. The young warlock sat in the Legerdemain Lounge’s most pushed back table she could seat herself at. The wall may as well have been to her back, yet her safety wasn’t what was driving her nerves. There was a clock. A loud, obnoxious thing. Or had it actually been that she was just focusing too much on every little thing? The clinking of glass as what she assumed was a new server clumsily almost dropped her tray. The obnoxious goblin making some joke in a language she didn’t know. A barker yelling out the day’s news from over the din of the city around them. Hoofbeats. Myria raised her head from the book she wasn’t actually reading. Her eyes turned to the door, waiting to see who was coming in next. The wolf’s instinct made her tense but the draenic couple walking in seemed to permit her the relaxing exhale that she needed. It wasn’t the corpse. The thought occurred to her that's how she had been referring to him more and more recently. She didn’t even get a good look at him aside from the glance of him in his armor. She did however know, he was dead. Undead. It didn’t sit right with her, but at the same time she recognized it made sense. Why wouldn’t he be undead? The moment he arrived was of course the moment she had lost focus. By the time she had regained her attention, he had spotted her. The death knight looked across the room at her and smiled. His face was ripped almost from ear to ear, held together only by disgusting dark twine. Myria flinched and in turn so did he. The dead man shrugged, as if to say ‘I get it’. He then walked over to her table and stood at the opposite seat. His hand, normal seeming save for the pale cold dead color of the flesh, rested on the back of the chair. “May I sit?” Myria was looking at him. Her face unreadable as the mix of thoughts and emotions made it difficult to express. The corpse’s disgusting, abominable smile shifted but remained a sickening sight. The warlock realized she was staring and nodded. “Y-Yes, please. Sit. Make yourself comfy…” The corpse paused then nodded, almost cheerfully, as he pulled the seat back and plopped down into its cushion. The death knight’s hands laced their fingers together and then there was silence. The awkward silence had garnered some onlookers but lost them almost as quickly. “So,” began Myria. “You’re my dad? Mum didn’t exactly paint you as the knightly sort.” James raised an eyebrow. His smirk straining the twine. “No. No I was not. As far from knightly as I could get without being an utter bas-err, well without being a monster. I take it you don’t remember me much then?” Myria shook her head. “Just what mum told me and I think a few dreams I had as a child but not really, no. I was what, three when you disappeared?” This cut the death knight a little, though that hadn’t been Myria’s intention. He nodded, his body relaxing in a dismal fashion. As if he were slumping into the uncomfortable truths that were liable to be brought up. “That’s about right. You weren’t very big at all. Kept disappearing into boxes and barrels every time we packed up the wagon.” The young warlock seemed confused by this. “Wagon?” “Yeah,” James responded, nodding as if to confirm it further. “We didn’t exactly live in one spot. We had a big wagon. Maybe you’d call it a carriage but we lived in it. It was like a moving house pulled by two rather stubborn nags.” “I don’t remember.” “I’m not really surprised. I don’t remember being that young either. Given what was happening at the time...no, nevermind. You had your own issues I can guess…” His smile never stopped seeming sinister. The jagged and unhealing wounds beneath the stitching seemed to ensure it would always have a malicious tinge to it. It made it hard for Myria to read him. “Yeah, you could say that. I know you guys thought Gilneas would be safe and it was for a few years but you know how that went. It got worse when mum left me with auntie Breigha. Poor old lady disappeared one night just a few months in too. Though I expect the poor old maid got mugged or bit or something one night.” This twisted smile seemed to look sort of like a W for a second. Was the dead man frowning? James sat back in his chair, thinking something. “So who took you in then? I know it’s not easy for a child to get by on their own. Especially in a town like Gilneas proper.” “I got picked up by a pissy warlock named Scriehemn. He’d been picking off urchins and orphans and homeless folk to offer up to the Legion. He was after mum’s books. Got me along with them.” “And you learned how to summon Ahn’Kheralhath.” This made Myria pause. “How do you know her full name?” “We’ve crossed paths. More than once. Never pleasantly. I think it’s best that the fewer details shared on that the better. I will tell you I know that’s only a third of her name and that unless she’s had a massive change of personality in recent times, she is a massive bitch.” Myria just blinked. Her clear attempts to suppress whatever thoughts she may have had about the demon and the dead man claiming to be her father were painfully inadequate. Perhaps the disgust was a sign maybe it was all true. After this regretful moment she looked back up at him. “Can I ask where you were? I mean, after you got free I mean.” James’ frown became more mournful. The twisted ruin of his face allowed at least that it seemed. “I spent a number of years...unwell. Nearly a decade.” The warlock’s eyebrow raised. “You’re undead. I didn’t think you could get sick.” The death knight tapped the side of his head where the brain should be. After a moment, Myria mouthed ‘Oh.” and the two sat quietly. A server finally came by to break up the silence. “Can I get you two anything? We’ve a number of a fair selection of ales and wines and our kitchen can make just about anything.” “Just water for me, oh and I’ll be paying for the whole lot when we’re done.” Myria glared at the death knight. He gave her a smile but then gestured for her to order. Then a devilish thought came to her. “Two stouts, a roast chicken, a large slice of ham, steak, the soup you had advertised, a salad, a slice of the apple pie and some bread if you don’t mind to start.” “Coming up dearie.” James waited for the waitress to leave before smirking. “I see we’ve spent time with the dwarves. Not bad company usually.” “Not going to break the bank is it ‘dear old dad’?” “Not really no. I wrote some books I hope you never read.” The calm way he seemed be unphased by either her order or her attempt to catch him off-guard irritated Myria slightly but she was more amused by the notion of the books. “Why?” “Well, one of which recounts the night your mother and I-” “NOPE! NOPE NOPE NOPE! I REGRET EVERYTHING!”
  2. I found the post looking up to see if I could find where the other Dusk Watch was or if it still existed. Found Urivial. Its a good piece. I liked it. I never got a chance to play Classic. Too poor and lacking the internet back then. Im hoping interesting things happen with classic and the rp community.
  3. We found him! It took us a while but we've picked up his trail again. We've got info on Frostbite Jak's location in the Northern Eastern Kingdoms. The bounty is still up for grabs and I'm even upping the payout to 1500 Gold. We've got to get this guy. Meet me in the Barnhouse of Tarren's Mill on Wednesday the 19th for more info. --- Now that BfA is thoroughly underway, Im going to be starting up the Hunt again. Due to Lordaeron's currently Blighted status we'll be moving our starting point to Tarren's Mill in Hillsbrad. Freakke will be in the Barn a little bit before 7 Server and at 7:30 Server time he'll give out the information to all attending so that no one has a head start and everybody can RP a bit more casually before sending you off after Frostbite Jak. There is an actual 1500 Gold prize as well so Happy Hunting!
  4. The Death Knight James Riley (Freakke) has posted a reward for the serial killer Frostbite Jak (JRiley) for crimes against Azeroth and the Horde. 1000 gold to be paid for proof the Forsaken villain has been bested. James will be in the Ruins of Lordaeron at the stairs East of the shattered statue on August 8th (Wednesday) at 8pm (server time) to give would be Bounty Hunters information on where their prey will be and what to expect. --- Come and roleplay as bounty hunters or an angry mob in this player run quest! Chase down a dangerous criminal and get paid for doing good work for the Horde. First person to find and beat Jak in a duel gets the prize but I hope you all get to have a good time.
  5. Murue

    [A] Coalition

    Next Event: August 10th (Location TBD) Team Building: Raid Group Hike Look for a Council Thread to be Put up in an RP Thread.
  6. Murue

    [A] Coalition

    Next Coalition Event Thursday 7 Server in Dun Morogh, Outside Iron Forge in the Brewfest spot. Social, Council Meeting (deciding Coalitions first Task: PVE or PVP), Training (Duels, Grouping Up and Communication sorts of things), BEER!
  7. Murue

    [A] Coalition

    I'm going to note all future Coalition Events in this topic. Top Post will also include Council Members and their Seconds (in case they may not be able to make it). Council Members: -The Dusk Watch: Sprung, 2nd: Murue -Eternal Aegis: Huan Ji Steadypaw, 2nd: -Night Vanguard: Sorel Crescentsong, 2nd: Margoz Antierius
  8. A letter arrived recently to Ironforge. The dwarf Murue has reserved Bruuk's Corner for a fair sum of Gold for this Sunday from 6-8pm (Server). Further letters have been sent to various guilds, outposts and settlements announcing the free gathering for those interested in the Coalition gathering. The letter suggests the meeting will be a feast for the sponsored event. All are welcomed to join, those interested in the Coalition and its purpose and those who simply wish to join in for food and drink. Impromptu Pre Event Meet and Greet: 6-8pm Server Sunday the 9th.
  9. A familiar dwarf has made his way round the streets of Alliance held cities and to the door steps of various groups under the blue banner. The soldier bears the colors of the Dusk Watch and while his tabard may be patched and faded, he wears it proudly. The warrior speaks briefly, but surely. "Friends and comrades, I come to you seeking aid. We have two great enemies threatening our homes. It has been our ideal in the Watch to vanguard our lands and protect our people. While we are unwavering in our duty, the lads and I can do little else on our own. We're spread thin, as I know many of us are. So ae've come to you now seeking volunteers to build a force that can retaliate against our enemy as we must." "I seek noble souls who are willing to put themselves on the line to beat back the Legion. I ask for those who wish to fight the Horde where the Alliance calls for us to do so. What I do not ask, is for you to give up your allegiances. I believe that we must stand united, but we must do so proud of who we are. I ask for your volunteers and I ask they bear your standards and colors proudly." "We will fight our enemies where we must. Be hammer and shield as we are called to be. Victory for Azeroth, the Alliance, and her many Peoples!" A short moment passes before he adds. "I will also be supplying free ale for just showing up to the first gathering." He nods as if this was the biggest selling point before stepping back to signal he was done. Upon the end of his speech, the dwarf then leaves a few fliers. He pardons himself and begs forgiveness for any trespasses he gives as he makes his way in and out before finding himself on the road to the next settlement. ---- OoC So hi everybody. Now that I've gotten settled back in I'd like to welcome you all to a series of events I would like to host to promote more Roleplaying and activity, incorporating other parts of the game, on the Alliance side. Mostly it's an excuse to organize fun stuff for a larger group without asking to break up guilds and form new factions. The first few events will almost assuredly be Pure RP events with a potential for Duels. Later I would like to set up events for PVE Instances against the Legion and running classics for Transmog gear or just for fun and plot, as well as PVP Instances and World Raid events against the Horde. There will also still be pure RP events beyond the first few "Staging" events. Crafting and Cooking events, because that's important to a fighting force. Especially the latter half. First event sign ups will be held in Dun Morogh at 7 Server Time on July 13th, right where we have our Brewfest set up every year. Feel free to send me mail or whispers in game or on Discord if you have questions or suggestions. I hope to see you all here or there. Have a great day!
  10. Official Status of Murue Bluehammer: MiA
  11. Dear Greatfather Winter, This is really awkward. Partially because Im just a figment of a broken man's mind. Partially because we collectively are also a living corpse brought back from the dead to maim, murder, plunder and such in the name of our now dead prick of a Prince, Arthas. Mostly because as a general rule, Ive been on the naughty list since I was knee high. I'm writing this because I think this is going to be my last Winterveil. Good news, James is getting better. He's still a moping mess, hopeless as ever, but he's waking up. Poor guy barely has a waking thought in so many years and now he's finally getting it back together. I dont know what that means for me but I figure I best make the time that Ive got worth something. Anywho, I just wanted to ask that any good graces I might still have, if any at all, get put towards the kids in the various Orphanages along your way. For now I think its time to sleep. Its been fun. -Barnabus J. Freakke
  12. Incessant humming woke the interred Barnabus. Was he doing this? No. It wasn't Malthasia either. He had not seen or heard his maddening apparition in some time. She had nothing to feed upon now it seemed. His one saving grace. Still...what was the humming noise? What could possibly make that much noise as to reach him in his earthen prison? A loud crunch. The twine in his cheeks shifted as he lifted his head to the ceiling of the saronite shell he was trapped in. The humming grew louder. Muffled voices were beginning to emerge. Only faintly could he make out the noise through the metal.The humming became clearer and more obnoxious. A machine. Someone was digging here. For a faint moment, Barnabus began to smile. Maybe at last he would know freedom again. A dream he could barely believe could be real. Still, a nagging thought tugged at him. The warning came suddenly in his mind as he remembered who else had been locked away. He struggled against his bindings and his own mind as the digging grew nearer and voices clearer. He may have even kept control had it not been for the gigantic metal claw that crashed through his steely coffin lid and into his ribs. That sharp sudden shock to his system was too much. Especially after so long. A grisly smile spread across his contorted vile lips. Barnabus once again slept. The Harlequin though, it only laughed. It laughed as the rune bound chains held his form in place so long clanged loudly at his sides. It laughed an unwholesome disgusting sound no soul could truly make. As it laughed, ice began to form round its body and in its hands... --- Albinn Cheapwick was not happy. Like most goblins, he was short, green, and had a number of bad habits. Cracking a smile was not one of them. The day was a bust. Lazy workers, cheap second hand machines, now this...whatever it was they'd dug up. The Venture Co. foreman scratched his head as he looked down at the mess as he walked closer. The crowd forming around the digsite should have been busy moving earth and looking for good solid mineral deposits. Instead these gawkers were busy wasting his time. And time was of course, money. He shoved his way through to survey the damages before really laying into them all. That would come in time. A broken excavator would not be tolerated or overlooked by his superiors. Nor would it be by himself. Turning his attention to the hole, Albinn puzzled. He'd seen the foul steel before, but never in this shape or in a place like this. A saronite box buried this deep out in the middle of nowhere could be anything. It could be old Scourge magics or riches. Or maybe the Ebon Blade had a dirty little secret. Caution had his sickly green ear but curiosity was already winning that fight in his mind. The goblin looked around at his workers. Most were not quite sure yet what they hit, others were terrified. An orc with a slacked jaw and fairly vacant expression caught his eye first. The peon would do fine. "You, Whasyername, get in there and open it up." The orc looked to Albinn a moment. He thought for a second before trying to respond. The goblin was having none of it. "I said get down there and see whats in the box!" The orc peon looked to the irate goblin and then to the hole. To him, a box was just a box. The goblin's insistence he go down to look at it closer was curious but he did as bid. Sliding down the steep cuts into the earth, the laborer began to look over the shape they had found. He was startled as the excavator's claw was pulled back and up, leaving a solid opening for him to peer inside. He was the first to hear the laughing. The sound of chains rattled as something moved but the laughing...it frightened the orc. He had already begun to back up as they all witnessed the pale frostbitten hand reach out and latch on to the outside of the saronite box. Ice formed around the fingers like claws of a feral beast, then chipped away as it moved. The speed with which the thing in the box moved was not natural. Bones seemed to contort as if their owner paid no heed to pain and shifted violently as it wrenched itself out of the box. In an instant, it was on its feet. Despite the damage caused by the excavator, it was standing firm on the box once confining it. The pallid frozen form rapidly coated itself in ice and surveyed its new prey. The laborers watched in horror as it leapt upon the orc in the pit. A few began to run while the rest could only watch. The frost bitten thing that vaguely resembled a human gripped its icy hands around the green skinned orc's throat and squeezed. The sharps shards dug in as it began to savor the terror. All the while, it laughed. Not once did it stop. --- Barnabus awoke. He was not sure how much time had passed. He could not remember either, the events that transpired after his bonds were broken. His wounds had been healed by his own hands it seemed. He could feel the dark powers of the fel runes etched in his own skin. He looked around for the first time. He was in the Desolace it seemed. Odd to him but he accepted it. The quickly dissipating puddles of tainted water were the signs of his obvious failure to stop himself. Once more over the edge he had gone. It was curious though that there was no blood. He tried to remember, but he only recalled a sensation of waking. There was no blood. No bodies. Still, he knew better than to hope. The Harlequin was not kind. It would not have spared whoever had disturbed his resting place. --- Albinn could feel the icy chains wrapping round his throat. The workers had begun their frenzied retreat as the laughing form dragged the sniveling, choking goblin to his sure demise. He begged and pleaded as best he could but upon seemingly deaf ears. The orc by now fading fast. The laughing sickly form had them both in his grasp and for that instant seemed intent on ending them both. Then it stopped. The laughing died down. The grip remained, but lessened. The orc gasped for air and Albin began to feverishly struggle, hoping to break free in this moments respite. The orcish laborer looked upwards, blearily on his attacker. The expression had changed. The sadistic amusement now gone. He seemed now colder than even his iciest grasp. Stone faced, the thing released them. The shards of ice, falling from his body as unholy runes, etched into his very skin began to mend them tattered form before them. Albinn did not remain to witness the transformation, but the orc could not find the strength to flee. He stared in horror as the death knight reformed himself. The moments passed by as the orc began to shift again. He sat unnerved by the still form that had attacked him moments ago. The silence, as unnerving as the laughing, haunted him. The peon shifted, ready to run himself as the death knight sank to his knees and began to whisper to himself. What was said, he wasn't sure if he heard properly, but the orc never would speak of it even if he had. In time, the pale man was alone. James opened his eyes. His body his own for the first time since he had died those many years ago. His mind clear even if only for a moment. The Harlequin raged to be free, but where Barnabus was not strong enough to contain it, James was. A sad thought occurred to him though. The more he awoke, the more Barnabus would fade. The good natured side of his madness perhaps deserved to live, but its opposite could not be allowed to. James knew sleep would come again, but it would not last. It was time to heal. For this moment, though, he was himself again.
  13. Thought came back to Barnabus. He had lost himself to madness again. This time he had wound up thrashing and rolling onto his side. The runebound chains still held his cold unliving form bound within this prison. How much time had passed this time? He didn't know. Another thought slowly came to him though. What would happen if someone did find his tomb? He had serious doubts as to whether he could control himself or not. Shifting once more he rolled back onto his back. He realized his mistake the moment it was made. The dull throb of what could only have been pain lazily made itself apparent. A number of bones in his one hand had snapped under the combined weight of his own body and the chain he was bound in. If he could have moved his arms at all, he would have been able squeeze free of the bindings that held him so long. Now, it was just an inconvenience. Another slow ache.
  14. Barnabus didn't move. He hadn't moved in what he could only imagine to have been months. The chains were too tight to do any more than thrash violently in what little space was afforded him. The cold feel of Saronite at his back was a constant reminder of the confines of his metal tomb. How deeply had they buried him? Where? Was there any marker at all? His thoughts began to race again only to be silenced by the cold rationality of his situation. There was nothing to do but wait. Wait for what though?
  15. [video=youtube;ojYK6CW8gdw] A band some of our Engineering friends might like. A group of Steam Powered Androids that Sing