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About Abel Carter

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  • Birthday 07/26/1986
  1. (Though these characters are no longer on the server in the digital sense it seems a shame to leave any story incomplete, so here it is. I hope you all enjoy!) From the petting zoo things did not get better for Kindall. Taking note of her absolute disinterest in anything that wasn’t dangerous, venomous or sharp he tried hard to steer their date in directions that would keep him safe. The logic was indisputably sound, since it was his best interest in to keep whatever murderous plot she had at bay, but choosing the ‘safe’ options certainly had a direct impact on how fun the date was. Whenever her attention was turned toward something like sword juggling or the orc who caught bullets with his teeth Kindall was quick to pull her elsewhere, using her honor toward the dating contract as a means of keeping her close by. For ten minutes they stood by the cotton candy maker, watching him create a delicious pink cloud of sugar from scratch instead of attending the firebreather. Another twenty minutes on the carousel kept Kindall safe from the game of darts that had caught her eye, and although he couldn’t entirely prevent her from viewing the elekk parade Kindall was at the very least able to keep himself safe from any potential stomping by standing behind Megan. Naturally this entirely obscured his view of the parade that everyone seemed to be applauding, but it at the very least gave him time to focus on what to do next. “Is get late. Dinner soon.” Megan spoke sharply, turning an eye behind her to Kindall as the last of the parade cleared back into a grand tent nearby. “Ah, yes, the steak. Do you know where the establishment is?” Megan nodded once, extending her elbow in order to silently guide him. With that the pair made their way from the fairegrounds back toward Stormwind. It was a slow and quiet walk, one which was made a little less awkward by the abundance of other couples nearby all wrapped in their own private world. For a moment, arm locked with his otherworldly companion, Kindall could understand why people formed relationships. Fingers intertwined with one another, the gentle swaying of Elwynn’s famous apple trees, a lovely view of the sun as it began to set into the distant horizon; even standing with arms awkwardly interlocked with Megan (who was busy tossing nearby couples sour looks) Kindall felt some semblance of peace. He wonder briefly if in her thousands of years of existence had Megan, or whatever her real name was, shared a moment like this with a loved one. Come to think of it, did she have children? For a moment Kindall thought to ask, but seeing her scowl at a duck that had waddled to close reminded him that any question was likely to be met with some barrage of insult. Moving up the main trade route and through the great gates of Stormwind the pair walked in silence, Megan gently guiding their path through what little crowd remained so late in the evening, each step bringing them closer toward their promised steak. Eventually she guided them toward where the Stormwind park once stood, now a large hole extending into the ocean since Deathwing’s visit. “The Scalded Roc.” Kindall read the sign aloud, squinting at the writing outside of the restaurant’s door. It was a curious place, built from a corner of a building where the park once stood, The Scalded Roc took full advantage of the decimated landscape and annihilated surrounding buildings to provide a clear view to the ocean. Its dining room tables sat on the outside, just before the ground became cliff, leaving diners with the subtle roar of a falls as the city canals emptied off into the ocean below. There was no question that, even looking from outside the half-wrecked restaurant, the dining experience was sure to be a memorable one. “Is good.” Megan gestured, unhooking her arm from his with some visible relief and stepping over to a nearby waiter to hand the man a small card from the fold of her leafy dress. To Kindall’s surprise the dating service seemed to have thought of everything as it only took the passing of a card, a frown from Megan and the snapping of fingers to secure them a table by cliffside; his fear of being pushed over somewhat abated by the small rock wall that kept anyone from easily making a fatal error while eating. Glancing warily over the side of the wall Kindall jumped in shock when the waitress approached, a gnome with bright green hair curled into a neat bun. “Good evening sir, madam.” the woman cheerfully greeted them, giving a curt bow before continuing. “Hopefully you two have had a superb date on this lovely star-lit night!” “Eh.” Megan huffed, the boredom in her expression clear as day. “It’s...been a fine evening. Thank you.” replied Kindall, trying hard to smile in defiance of Megan’s attitude. He wouldn’t let her jeopardize this steak. “Oh! Well I’m sure you two will have plenty to discuss as you enjoy our majestic view of the ocean. Please, if you have any other personal requests don’t hesitate to ask!” the waitress continued, flashing a bright professional smile. “If I could have mine rare? And does it come with a potato?” inquired Kindall hopefully. “Indeed you can! And it does! And some roasted vegetables!” she cheered. Kindall couldn’t help but give the waitress a high five in excitement as she turned to Megan cheerfully. Things were finally looking up. “Were there any special requests for you madame?” “No. Cook good.” Megan peered at the gnome in scrutiny, providing her with a cold glare. “Uh...no problem then. I’ll make sure the chef ‘cooks great’. Then we’ll have exceeded your expectations!” the waitress laughed in jest, drawing a smile from Kindall. “If find spit in food, small child, Megan spit on grave.” the draenei leaned in with a frown, her tone quickly wiping the smile from the waitress’ face and sending the woman off with their requests. Alone the pair sat still, Megan looking off to the ocean with an expression that suggested she was recalling a bad taste or sour memory. Unsure if he should say something Kindall watched her expectantly, running through the events of the day. After a moment of silence with nothing but the gentle roar of the falls in the distance, he spoke, staring at Megan from across their small table. “What is your problem?” “Eh?” she turned back to Kindall, her expression still one of vague disappointment. “I mean, it’s clear you have a problem. With me, with the ocean, with our waitress. What is it?” he pried, leaning back in his chair casually. “Megan no say. Paid make date nice. If say date is, how say, no so nice.” she stated coolly, her gaze fixated on him. “As long as the steak comes and there’s some butter on that potato, this evening really can’t get any worse.” Kindall responded flatly. “Tch.” she snorted, folding her arms over her chest. “Is no happy in contract. Bad date. Stupid man. Ugly warlock.” “Then why take the job, if you hate me so much?” “Stupid man, friend with demon, no know of honor.” Megan spat, literally, over the rock wall as she continued to list her problems, drawing the eyes of some fellow diners. “Also, is much ugly.” “You literally sell your services for gold! That’s the definition of prostitution!” retorted Kindall, pounding a fist down on the table in exasperation. He was about to add further insults when he noticed how many patrons were staring at him, aghast. Megan watched him with a sneer, enjoying Kindall’s flush embarrassment. It was all he could do to look away, trying to ignore the whispers about the crazy looking man and his beautiful draenei hooker in the revealing leaf dress. A single saving grace came in the form of two incredible looking cuts of beef, grilled to perfection with a colorful side of lush vegetables. The gnome waitress, her disposition seeming to have recovered after some time away from Megan, placed both plates delicately before them with a nod and friendly smile. A crack of pepper, the pouring of two glasses of wine, and she set off away from the table to leave the pair in silence. Without hesitation Kindall picked up his fork and knife, cutting into the steak and smiling at how easily the knife cut into the tender and well marinated meat. A sliver of juicy beef, a small scoop of potato, and the best looking carrot all on a single fork. The perfect serving. Kindall had just raised his utensil to take a bite when he had noticed Megan, watching him quietly. Her plate lay where it was placed, undisturbed. “No.” Kindall looked to his fork with a mixture of anger and despair. “No, no, no, no.” “What wrong?” Megan looked to him with a soft but cold smile. “Is no good?” Hand shaking he stared down at his steak in fear, unsure what to do. Could she have poisoned it? How would that be possible? Perhaps the foray with the gnome was all for show. Kindall was heartbroken at the thought, he had trusted that waitress with a beloved thing only to discover the potential for betrayal wrapped within this tender beef. Fork still in hand he paused for another moment or two before coming up with a solution to his problem. “For you.” smiled Kindall, extending the fork across the table for Megan to take a bite of. Bracing himself for her refusal to take a bite Kindall was unable to hide the shock from his face she leaned forward without hesitation, taking the fork gently between her lips and pulling away his perfect serving. Leaning back to chew with a look of snide superiority Megan watched Kindall as she began to cut into her own steak. “Is good.” Sighing sadly Kindall began to eat, admittedly enjoying the meal before him despite losing what was no doubt the best looking scoop of forked food he had ever encountered in his life. It was a profound loss, but he barely had time to register it when Megan coughed for his attention. Looking up from his plate he watched as she took a steak knife in steady hand, scooping up a small serving of cauliflower, potato, and then spearing a thin slice of juicy steak. With a smile she held the knife across the table in a hand daintily, pointing the blade (and food) directly at Kindall. He looked at the blade with suspicion, catching Megan’s mischievous smile and providing a frown in return. “Are you serious?” Kindall sighed, eyeing her. She nodded curtly in response, edging the fully loaded steak knife toward him further. Briefly he considered saying no and refusing to eat off the knife, but wouldn’t that be an admittance of weakness? No, he couldn’t have that. It would hardly be the first time she tried to kill him in public either, although most of the time her attempts were based around convenient accidents. Glancing around the dining room he noticed most of the patrons seemed to either be engaged in their food, company or the falls. Probably as good as having no witnesses. With immense hesitation he leaned forward, lips pursed out in order to catch the tip of the speared steak in his mouth, trying hard to let as little of the blade near him as possible. Eventually he settled for plucking the sliver of steak from the tip with his lips before using his tongue, cheeked now puffed with steak, to push the knife’s flat of the blade toward him; smearing the potato in and around his mouth in the process of turning the blade away from his face. Catching as much of the serving as he could Kindall leaned back, satisfied he had been spared a potential stabbing. “Wow.” a voice chirped beside them; the gnomish waitress standing agape by their table, a look of dismay and disgust on her small face. “Uh...did you need a napkin or something?” Raising a hand to his cheeks he had only then realized the tremendous mess he made, flushing with embarrassment as the waitress looked aside in a desperate attempt to forget what she had just seen. Several patrons who had the unfortunate luck of being seated beside their table looked equally disturbed. “Idiot.” Megan sighed, taking the knife back and continuing to eat her meal. ---------------------------------------------------- The pair finished eating in silence, Kindall more going through the motions than anything else. Feeling mostly full and largely stressed he exited the restaurant with Megan, who seemed quite content as she looked up at the night sky while re-applying her dark blue lipstick. Unsure what to do Kindall turned to her with a shrug. “So, is this it? Do I just go home now?” “Eh.” Megan shrugged back, looking to Kindall flatly. “Is choice of ugly.” “Well then, great.” Kindall replied dryly, clapping his hands together for emphasis. “Thank you Megan for the company this evening. It’s certainly been a unique experience to say the least.” He was about to walk away back to his laboratory when Megan rolled her eyes with a sigh, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before he could react. Placing a hand to his face in shock Kindall wasn’t sure what to say. By the time he had just opened his mouth in reply she had already began to walk away, hooves clopping gently on the cobblestone street Kindall’s draenei rival waved in goodnight as she passed. “Megan admit, was fun. No do again, but have nice time.” she stated grudgingly, eventually turning the corner out of sight. “Good night, stupid.” Still somewhat taken aback by her display of kindness, even if contractual, Kindall pondered what this all meant. Perhaps he would take some time back at his home to investigate where the source of the dating card had come from. It would be a wonderful task to send an eye out observe, and he was sure that once he found where the head office was it would only be a matter of time before he got wind of this mysterious cupid. Reflecting upon it further it was probably just a prank from one of his guildmates. It wouldn’t be the first time they did something this intrusive and annoying for the sake of a good laugh. Turning to look behind himself Kindall heard the click and lock of a door as The Scalded Roc sent the last of its patrons home, closing from what appeared to be a successful night. A quick stretch, a scratch to an itch on the back of his head and some quick consideration on what to do with the rest of his evening set Kindall moving back to the mage quarter when he felt a leg buckle after its first step, causing him to fall to the cold stone street embarrassingly. With a sigh Kindall began to prop himself back up on an elbow to see what he tripped on, but his arm could hardly hold his weight. Stubbornly he attempted to move his legs again but they simply wouldn’t respond. Worse, he could hardly feel them. In shock he felt a trickle of liquid begin to creep from his nose, and raising a hand to his face he couldn’t figure out why it was so hard to find his mouth when the realization hit him. The kiss. As the propped arm gave way beneath his dead weight Kindall could not help but marvel at her genius. To her credit, this wasn’t so bad a way to go. He could hardly feel anything now, and something seemed to be filling up his mouth making it harder to breathe. Agonizingly he chuckled, his last bit of energy spent on a hushed whisper. “Well played.”
  2. Realizing that this was likely the first time he had ever been on a real date before the line between what behavior was appropriate and what would generally be frowned upon as murderous intent became difficult to discern for Kindall. Arms locked politely he picked a bit of speed in his step to lead her, only to realize that he may be walking quickly into a trap. Slowing down would give Megan an unacceptable amount of control over the situation however, as she would naturally maintain her own pace regardless. The result was a minute or two of the couple walking awkwardly down the main boardwalk of the Darkmoon Faire, and Kindall appearing to have some sort of awful nervous limp. Eventually he settled on matching her speed instead, trying to follow her impassive gaze as she looked around the faire grounds appearing unimpressed at the various exhibits and entertainment venues. The juggling man, the sword eater, the carousel, a station for children to battle with steam tonks against one another, nothing seeming to catch her attention until she finally noticed the petting zoo, a glimmer of interest in her eye betraying her normally stoic demeanor. “Why don’t we check out the zoo?” Kindall suggested slyly, guiding them over to the waist high gates which kept a wide variety of creatures available for easy viewing. From far away it looked as though the selection was slim, however up close they both realized each gate was broken down into further smaller pens, each containing their own exotic creatures (not all of which really fit in their designated area). Kindall wondered what kept the long legged giraffe or gravity defying baby nether rays within their pens when they could just simply fly free. Eyeing an incredibly overweight crocolisk he assumed it was the food, perhaps laced with some sort of sedative that kept the animals so docile and friendly looking. He had turned to ask Megan what she thought when he noticed her at odds with one of the animal handlers. One hand planted firmly on the face of a groundskeeper Megan was reaching into one of the pens of small, dangerous looking, but exoticly colored scorpids; and appeared to have attracted their attention unlike many of the other animals nearby. Ignoring the man’s protests not to touch the dangerous insects she extended her hand palm up towards the scorpids who seemed to regard her with quiet deliberation. A small crowd gathered as it eventually the clicked forward onto her hand, threatening to sting her with claws raised all the while. Gently, lovingly, Megan raised her hand from the floor of the pen and lifted the creature for all to see. Sitting in her palm the scorpid observed its new surroundings, turning in place curiously. A few nearby onlookers gave a soft applause at the show, and even the groundskeeper looked impressed with the action. Scorpid still in hand Megan looked to Kindall with a smirk, letting the creature stalk from her open palm to the back of her hand in a slow twist. This was clearly a challenge. He wasn’t sure how or what purpose this display of insectoid prowess served, but Kindall knew that he needed to take control of the situation. He looked around to see what petting cage was closest, quickly trying to discern which creature would give him the upper hand. Directly behind him was a tank of eels. No, he wasn’t quite ready for that experience again. Next to the tank was a lion, but he couldn’t think of many things that could be done with that. Not to mention it was a fairly large cat, options for showing off would be limited. Same with the elephants, a tallstrider, a particularly large and powerful looking snake, nothing seemed appropriate enough to simply pick up and lift. Turning his attention back to Megan he noticed that she had already set the insect back into its pen, and was walking away much to the relief of the staff. Undeterred Kindall followed closely behind her as she moved onward, scanning the various pens to see if there was something he could make due with. Some exotic birds, a pony, ferrets, the list went on and on and as Megan seemed to express no interest in any of these creatures Kindall became more and more frustrated in trying to find a way to outdo what was no doubt a statement of superiority from the draenei. Reaching the petting zoo he picked up a small rabbit, taking advantage of Megan’s distraction in some sort of jellyfish tank (another abhorable and potentially deadly creature). He watched it carefully, staring into its large brown eyes that were almost obscured by a layer of fluff and puff. Surely he could do something grand with this rabbit. Maybe send it to the nether through a demonic gate and back, just to show that he could do it. Or ignite it in fel flame without causing damage to its body somehow. Come to think of it, he had never tried something like that before, it would probably be an interesting experiment anyway. Would it even be possible to summon demonic fire without having any kind of repercussion to a single object? Mages did it with arcane energy after all, and this is certainly no less potent. “Sir, we need you to put the rabbit down.” Kindall looked up, only then aware that his hands were holding the poor creature a bit too tightly than it liked. Setting the animal aside back into its pen, as well as brushing off a bit of the fel residue from the rabbits fur with his hands, Kindall offered the frightened groundskeeper a weak apology and smile before moving on to catch up to his date. A rocky start to be sure.
  3. “A blind date?” Kindall mused, looking to the courier with surprise. “Yes sir, at least that’s what the letter says. Did you...want me to read it again?” the young man spoke softly, as though afraid that he would raise the ire of Kindall at any moment. In his hands he held a letter, parchment laced with fancy gold flecks and reeked of fancy perfume. Kindall had no idea what this delivery man's problem was. Maybe it was his new shirt, it certainly was a stylish looking piece that may intimidate a poorer man; but then again it could also have been the incredible amount of split pea soup and bread sticks that sat at his table. Ever since coming back from the dead his appetite had been incredible, almost as though he was making up for a few days worth of missed meals. “No, no that’s quite alright. You can leave the letter here, I’ll read through it in a moment.” the warlock sighed, waving a hand in dismissal. The boy quickly put the letter down on the table before Kindall carefully before giving a quick bow and bolting for the door. With a sigh Kindall turned back to his soup, trying hard not to get caught up in the sinister rip in the fabric of reality his demonic eye was causing on the chair across from him. As it burned with sentient intelligence, howling with laughter he could only wonder who would set him up on a date. Not that it mattered, he would go either way. The date wasn’t until a few hours from now which was plenty of time to finish his bowl of soup. ------------------ Stepping down the dimly lit main path to the Darkmoon Faire Kindall still had to wonder exactly who had signed him up for such a service. Using the unnatural glow projected by his floating demonic eye as a lantern he read the letter once more, scanning the delicate gold script for some information he may have missed earlier. Blah blah blah, invited, blah blah blah, an evening of relaxation and entertainment, blah blah blah, steak dinner, blah blah blah, potential romance. A few more details about the time and place, but nothing about his mystery date. Right It was some sort of dating service to say the least, although he had never heard of Stormwind Love Harbor before. Then again, he had never really tried dating before either. Most of his time was spent up either assisting various Watch efforts or further exploring the nature of demonic energy. The only new event to his schedule as of late was dying, which he did not plan on penning into his calendar ever again. A few more moments of silent contemplation had brought him to the fancy sign announcing the faire ahead where his date stood underneath its dull advertising lights. Tall, powerfully built with light blue skin and dark hair that was spun into a delicate and fancy fold the draenei presumably waiting for him was no doubt beautiful. The dress she wore seemed stitched from various leaves and flowers, held together by an invisible threading that made her outfit look not only seamless but absolutely natural. In fact the only thing about the mystery woman that stopped short of remarkable were her eyes. Cold, hard, and unforgiving her gaze bored into Kindall, and he may have even stepped back from shock had he not been so familiar with it. “Megan.” he greeted her, stepping closer into the light. “Ugly-stupid. Is so good to see.” she replied dryly. “So you’re my date for the evening? Did you set this up?” “Tch.” reaching a hand up into the cut of her dress, she held drew out a small gold flecked card to show him. “Is job. Stop old dwarf work. Contract bad. Is take up new contract. Is temporary.” Kindall took the card carefully from her, his eyes flicking between reading its gold script and making sure she didn’t make any sudden movements. It was only a few weeks ago when he received the package of dwarven ale and keys to a brand new gyrocopter, he certainly didn’t think nothing of it at the time. He was able to hold his drink with the best of them, and flying was certainly not new. But he had underestimated her cunning. That in his drunken stupor he didn’t notice the controls were adjusted in reverse, not until he had taken off. His flying skills hampered by the powerful brew it was only a matter of time before he crashed, sending his body to the ground and his spirit to the twisting nether. It was such a beautifully mastered assassination that no one suspected it was foul play. Kindall however knew better. Despite his mastery over demons and penchant for silk dresses (ugh, they were so soft) no one within the Alliance truly wished him dead. No one, except Megan. “You’re a hired...date? Is this like an escort service?” Kindall handed the card back to her. “No know what mean. I date. Pay to make time nice. Stupid warlock is date, will make time nice.” she shrugged impassively, folding the card back into a leaf on her dress. Kindall paused for a moment, unsure what to do. This could be a trap, another opportunity for her to kill him and this time for good. He had only barely managed to recover before thanks to his soulstone, but creating another one that would work from such an incredible distance away from his body would take some time; and while her actions may be a little underhanded she was still a individual of honor, and had never known her to break a contract or agreement she had taken. Plus, there was that free steak dinner. “Alright then. Shall we?” Kindall gestured forward with a smile, holding out his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. Folding her arm into his Megan stepped forward politely, her height making their faux embrace more than a little awkward looking. In his haste to look around for potential threats around the faire Kindall missed the faintest trace of a smile play upon her lips.
  4. Abel watched the Sword slip into their tight battle lines and instinctive parties, drawing blades and throwing spells in the practiced unison that would be expected from any military order. Living men of metal and stone moved forth to stop them, but were met with hard resistance. Somewhere amidst the clang of metal and flashes of light Abel heard a voice rise up, calling comrades in arms to hold the line. It was an incredible and impressive situation to watch, and the deliveryman had to admit the entire thing did draw a certain lure to military camaraderie. Standing far from combat, Smithers panting at his side, Abel notched a razor edged arrow to his bowstring and scanned the battlefield for any viable targets. The angry looking metal dwarf would have been a good target, had a burst of searing light not torn through it seconds later. Then there was the rather menacing looking giant of a statute, which lost its leg to a mighty swing of Folvelors blade, and a second somewhat decrepit looking construct which was torn apart in a flurry of arcane energy. The combat was as furious and brutal as any that Abel had been a part of before, but the sheer scale of it all overwhelmed him for a moment. Without further hesitation he picked one of the mighty iron dwarves charging forward into battle and loosed his arrow, watching with a sigh as it bounced uselessly from the constructs impassive iron face. “I’m not really sure why I expected that to work.” Abel looked down to Smithers, who barked once and wagged his tail excitedly. Looking around the battlefield he noticed the couple, that rogue and paladin who he had promised to assist, dashing for a side passage that was almost closed. Dashing forward in pursuit Abel stowed his bow and reached for one of the pistols hidden within the brace of his jacket, knowing it would be a bit more useful in close quarters than his more stealthy weapon of preference. He checked the flintlock weapon quickly, then turned to his faithful mastiff with a grin and a single command that sent the bloodhound dashing forward to obey. “Sic em.”
  5. "That old dwarven monk?" Abel laughs as he recalls a fond memory. "I know he had a bit of a bout with himself a while back, but I'm glad he's since moved onward. Truth be told we need more of his kind these days. Selfless individuals, willing to look out for the little guy." He pauses for a moment in consideration. "He's also got a mean kick, if I remember correctly."
  6. Full Name: Megan Wheeler Actual Name: Ishani In Game Name: Thugarella Age: 20,000 (approx) Race: Draenei Gender: Female Hair: Blue-green Skin: Blue Height: 7' Weight: 240lbs Place of Birth: Religion/Philosophy: Shaman Occupation: Mercenary Group/Guild affiliation: Likes: Dumplings, collecting fauna, other draenei, scorpions. Dislikes: Demons, warlocks, fel energy, most humans, most gnomes, most dwarves, some elves, most of Stormwind's local cuisine, cold environments, zealous paladins, pirates, the ocean, smelly hunter pets, orcs, blood elves, goblins, the undead, sunny days, strong perfume smells, children, ugly children. Hobbies: Collecting plant samples Physical Features: Tall, fierce and proud best describe the healer, and years of aiding others on the battlefield have kept her body in peak physical condition. It can be said that her most striking feature above all else are her eyes; piercing orbs of fury and sadness that suggest an overwhelming loss that has finally taken its toll. Positive Personality Traits: Fiercely true to her word. Negative Personality Traits: Judgmental, spiteful, racist, quick to anger and stubborn. History: There was a time, once, when Ishani knew true peace. Before her gift for mending wounds was ever recognized, and her path into becoming a priestess of the light was set in stone despite personal wishes. Before she was forced to learn what it meant to lose her friends and family at the hands of the Legion, too young to understand that even her unwanted gift in medicine could not possibly save an entire world under siege. Before she learned to choose which of her brothers and sisters were worth saving, and that despite honest teachings every life had value which could be measured against one another. Before she learned to love after years of sacrifice, a lesson she would regret when the Legion would strike again to finally take what was left of her happiness. As her small piece of the Exodar broke off in the atmosphere Ishani watched in silent prayer when she fell from the sky, ready to let the warm embrace of earth end her personal tragedy. When pirates found her drowning in the ocean, dragging her from the rough current in fascination it was clear that this was her punishment. Her life would become one of penance. Every year she lives is another year of personal torment, one where she can be reminded of her failures while sparing others her same fate. This disgusting world and it's stupid people would never be truly prepared to face the might of the Legion, but at the very least she would see it through. When reports of survivors came trickling in shortly after the crash, it would eventually come to surface that Ishani did not live through impact. Despite her hatred for her idiotic pirate saviors she would be forced to admit, at the very least, the name Megan Wheeler was much better suited for such a colossal failure as herself.
  7. "Oh Miss Crane!" Abel perks up a bit as he recognizes the name. "She's a lively one for sure, and you'll be hard pressed to find someone better to watch your back in a pinch." After taking a moment to pause in consideration Abel adds with a chuckle, "She also wears some interesting armor, if you're into that sort of thing."
  8. Abel Carter coughs once to clear his throat before speaking with consideration. "She's quite nice, Miss Wind..." he quickly looks down at his notebook to make sure he's got the right name, "...Star. Although I will say that her flying skills leave something to be desired. Ah well, no one's perfect."
  9. Abel Carter looked down at his schedule with a mild frown, knowing that helping others was the more important thing to do didn't make a wasted days planning feel much better. The delivery to Goldshire of non-critical herbs could definitely wait another day or two, and he was certainly ahead of schedule when it came to the war supplies he was running across Arathi. The reservations at that lovely establishment in Dalaran would likely go to waste, but upon retrospect it was far more enjoyable to be dining with company that to be dining alone. Taking a glance around at the last thought Abel wondered briefly what kind of company he was keeping to begin with. Everyone here seems nice enough, and it was Sir Tastion who had sent him to Dalaran for his delivery to in the first place. Miss Windstar and Dawnfire also were kind enough, but was this an engagement that he really wanted to be a part of? To risk life and limb for an unknown cause, to save the life of a man who he didn't know for people whom he had only just met? He shook off the thought with a smile, nodding to Windstar as she gestured toward him. Abel made the decision to help when he had retrieved their goods (and his dog) from the magical city; let it not be said that a Carter would ever back down from helping another. He reached down to Smithers for a reassuring pat, taking in the sights of the Titan architecture all around him. This would be quite a long day indeed. Plus, he still needed that deposit back.
  10. (Awesome! I hope there's more!)
  11. Hardly a fan of flying Abel was becoming less and less thrilled with the situation at hand, his hippogryph having finally come only a few wing-beats behind the troll thug riding the stolen wyvern. He had watched in horror as his rental deposit had likely just been voided when his gryphon was shot at, the poor creature had taken a bolt to the hind leg. Frustrated and a little tired he drew a second pistol from his coat and was about to take a shot at the rider when a beam of light flashed out from the half-elfs hand, its direction thrown off by the gryphon’s spasm of pain. Ducking low as the beam of holy light swung wide of the enemy rider only to clip Abel’s shoulder, leaving a light sear over his home stitched jacket. “Really now?” Abel sighed in exasperation, wondering what kind of grief Linda would give him over the damaged coat. Dusting away some of the residual smoke from his shoulder with a large paw Abel spurred the hippogryph onward, catching up to the troll just as it was loading another shot into its crossbow. A look of confusion passed the troll’s face as it noticed the worgen that had caught up, taking a moment to look behind it to see where his friend had gone. They had just reached the mountain pass leading toward the ruins of Ulduar when Abel had noticed the wound to the Gryphon must have been worse than he thought; the rogue and paladin together were guiding the poor beast down toward a broken bridge, attempting to mend it’s wound with holy energy while preparing for what was likely to be a hard landing. “Lower the weapon, and I’ll be happy to let you pass sir troll.” Abel raised his pistol, keeping an eye on where the Sword pair were going to try to land. The troll spoke in a language that Abel could hardly pronounce, let alone comprehend, but the raised crossbow and menacing look in the ruffians eye were able to cross their racial barrier with ease. “Suit yourself then.” Abel sighed heavily, pointing the pistol away from the troll and toward the wyvern instead. Unsure he could connect a shot with his hippogryph’s unsteady flapping Abel pulled the trigger at the troll’s mount instead, aiming for the head but clipping the wing at the shoulder instead. A dull ‘thunk’ sounded off as the troll loosed its bolt round in desperation, but a combination of Northrend's frozen winds and an equally rough ride had taken the shot far off course. Struggling to hold onto the mortally wounded mount Abel watched as the troll and the poor wyvern twisted out of the sky and fell, slamming hard into the mountainside before tumbling further away into the snowdrifts of the storm peaks. Stowing the pistol back into the brace under his jacket Abel turned his attention to the two women just as they had landed, wincing reflexively as they half-landed half-crashed on a platform below; the once entrance to what must have been a grand location of the Titans barely saving them from falling to their deaths. Guiding his stolen hippogryph toward the pair Abel let the curse flow away from him as he prepared to confront the pair, still trying to remember the damn night elf’s proper last name.
  12. Abel absolutely loved Dalaran. Maybe it was because it was a floating city, or perhaps it was simply because the streets were so clean, but there was just something about the place that reminded him of his childhood. A fairytale in many ways. He had just spent some time at the pet store when some commotion in the streets had caught his attention, the yelling of men and women as unexpected excitement cleared the way toward the flight platform. Breaking a dog treat in half for his mastiff Abel stepped out from the shop just in time to see two women, a half-elf and night elf, sprint by. He had recognized them from earlier, two of guild members of Sword in the Morning to whom he had delivered the letter from their guildmaster. He had only a moment to watch them as they sped by, a look of determination and disarray as they attempted to work on wrinkled clothing and tie up their loose backpacks on the fly. Stepping out into the street he watched them with some of the other citizens in mild curiosity, trying desperately to remember their names. A Windrunner? Wildrunner? Swiftrunner? Swiftblade? Bladerunner? It was incredibly difficult to keep up with names of elven origin, and it felt a little racist to keep guessing so blindly. He was about to reach into his jacket to draw out his notebook for another clue when a violent shove made him stumble for balance. Swearing at him in some unknown language both trolls sped their way past, and Abel knew at once that the two women were clearly in more danger than they could apparently handle. Smithers at his side the deliveryman quickly sped after the pair, losing sight of them for a moment as they ran around the corner and up the ramp toward the flight master platform. By the time he had turned around the corner after them and made way back into their sight Abel could hardly believe what he was watching. The woman paladin, fully dressed and prepared for battle, had just tossed a dagger at one of the trolls who responded with a swift block with his club. Pulling the blade from his club with a snarl the troll had prepared to return the throw when a pellet slapped into his forehead, exploding into a burst of smoke. Normally not one to enter confrontations Abel would have left the pair at that, save for something he had seen in the fleeting moment before the smoke clouded the entire platform. The night elf woman, tugging the reins to prepare a very familiar looking gryphon for flight... “Hey!” Abel exclaimed in anger, just catching up to the trolls who stood coughing at the doorway to the flight platform. Dashing clear of the smoke Abel was just in time to see the women flying off with his gryphon, pointing toward the horizon as they gathered their bearings. He turned toward the high elf flight master in frustration, buttoning his coat in a fury. “You let them just take my gryphon?” “Well they didn’t exactly ask...” the mistress of mounts offered with a shrug. “What’s the point of these damn valet tickets anyway?” he sighed, revealing his stub in frustration as he looked around for a solution. “They all have the same number on em anyway.” she pointed out. Taking a glance at the ticket out of curiosity he realized she was probably right, the golden stub had only a long string of zeros for its print number. Finally bursting forth from the cloud of smoke the two trolls swore violently (or so Abel thought) as one quickly hopped on a wyvern, not bothering to ask the smug flight master for permission as it flew off in pursuit. Just as the first thug was taking off Abel had desperately looked around to see if he could find something to catch up, realizing all too late that the second troll thug had just taken reins of the last mount on the platform. With the troll tugging harshly to lift off the hippogryph squawked in disapproval as the unknown rider hopped on, preparing to move off the platform regardless. A quick trot and flap of wing sent the beast sailing majestically into the air before Abel latched on, letting the worgen curse flow over him in order to better grasp at the beasts rear hoof. Not expecting the extra weight the creature twisted from the sky, sending all three into a spinning fall almost instantly. Hanging on tightly as the hippogryph pumped its wings hard to recover the beast was able to straighten a few hundred feet from the ground, correcting its course to follow the wyvern and gryphon who now had considerable distance. Sneering down at Abel the troll lifted its club to strike down at the stowaway, too slow to respond to the pistol shot that exploded through the thug’s eye and send him falling to the ground below. “I’m sure that’ll grow back.” chuckled Abel as he crawled his way up onto the back of the mount, spurring it onward in hopes of catching the others. Abel swore under his breath as his hippogryph picked up speed. He would not let that rental deposit go in vain.
  13. I love blind rp day any day, on either my shaman or Abel.
  14. This song has been sung literally as long as the server has been around. Break away from your guild, use the channels that have been set up to encourage Alliance side/ Horde side communication, and meet some new people. I guarantee you that you'll have more fun arranging a random meetup for 2-3 people in the middle of nowhere in this game than sitting in an inn, or sitting on these forums going back and forth over a General Hospital plotline.
  15. As the call for fire rippled through the crowd Abel turned his attention away from the front door, doing his best to find where the source may come from. A few poorly armed citizens would cause trouble once the door was breached, but fire would be an entirely different matter. Could those inside survive smoking out? Was it even possible for fire to be used accurately in any riot? The unsettling feeling that he was going to get firsthand experience on the matter was enough to make him want to break away from the press of bodies. Craning his head about the crowd he had hoped only a single torch would be brought forward. That he could deal with. Inching the way along with the press of the crowd he placed his hand gently on Smithers' neck, getting the hound ready for action at a moments notice. An attack against the tower would no doubt cause loss of innocent life at the hands of frightened guards. Those inside would be unprepared to deal with the fire no doubt approaching. Abel was prepared to prevent that at any cost.