Kexti

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Kexti last won the day on March 12 2018

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About Kexti

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  • Birthday 02/20/1992

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  1. A wonder that the Nightborne joined the Horde, Kex'ti Dalendala thought to himself. Telemancy has certainly made getting around easier. He hated portal magic. It always left him nauseated for hours, and for a man of his size, it was a deeply unpleasant experience. The elf monk hobbled through the moor, his boots slick with grime. He could sense the chi of nothing living. But in Tirisfal Glades, dead rarely meant gone. Rarer still did it mean non-hostile. He'd run off the drink from the morning while he rode his raptor from Ratchet to the Crossroads. From there, a wyvern flew him to Orgrimm
  2. New Orleans sounds fun, and I'd like to get away from anything that's "local" to most people. Vegas there's a lot to do, and I think Puerto Rico could also be a lot of fun, or a beach house in Florida, or even Texas.
  3. Hi all, could you take 5 minutes and answer a short survey so I can gather data to send to the RP community managers at Blizzard? Thanks. https://goo.gl/forms/4uGixZr8NVCILLEo2
  4. At one moment in time, Kex’ti would have found the arrangement pragmatic. As he walked hand in hand with Julilee, Rylie meters beyond, he would have found peace in the security of the way they moved together. Rylie just far enough away to not be obviously affiliated with them, close enough to be safe, but not near enough, for long enough in public, to draw scrutiny. Sanctuary was beset by scandal enough. His own assertions that the girl was half-Sin’dorei did much to quell any real dissent; the monk’s vague allusions to prior discretion fueled enough of the rumor mill to keep prying que
  5. Red Tea I once wielded a scholar's weapon. It was a beautiful tool. The scrolls that rolled about it, the way my tome of notes rocked in its mooring. It was inscribed with hints of knowledge and dripped with insight and the illuminating power of the mind at work. It was heavy, and it was long, and it parted my enemies before me like a sieve. It became a symbol of my failure, and my own lack of foresight. I once wielded a missionary's blade. This was a long sword, resplendent with inner light. It curved and shimmered, and it danced in my hands. I used it to quell my foes and leave them al
  6. *cries and rolls around in that artifact thread*
  7. The figure uses a chipped moonglaive, like a warden would. They wear a dark, travelstained cloak. Under it, a bandolier holds several shimmering vials. They look around, and continue searching for Kerala through the day... Kerala eventually gets antsy. Even though the centaur said he was magrami and didn't trigger any bad vibes in her instincts, he's still a stranger. She makes her way back to ask him if he heard the voice again in her absence, trying to think of what she'll say to convince him to leave. Well aware of her own tendency to strike first and ask questions
  8. Kexti

    Call of the Scarab

    until
    To commemorate the first ringing of the Scarab Gong on January 23, 2006, players will be able to relive a portion of the Ahn’Qiraj gate opening by collecting items for turn-in. The winning faction will then be able to claim bragging rights and have their faction flag hang over the gates until the next Call of the Scarab micro-holiday event. Hey Everyone! Let's show some server pride and get together on a night or two to fight it out in the sands of Silthus!
  9. She snorted. After a minute, though, her horns tilted as she stared at the ground. "Do you know, druids were myths among my people when I was a child? When we were young, the most mystical magical things we aspired to be were shaman. My sister always lied and said she could almost hear the rocks speak, and the waters. She tried so hard to be what she was not. A shaman. A druid. Do you know what she is, what she truly is? Neither of those things, at all." She looked over at Armagh. "If you hear the rocks, if you are not lying to yourself or afflicted of the mind, you will find the way. If th
  10. Kerala stopped. "Look around you." She gestured at the majesty of inner Maraudon, with sunlight filtering down through the crack of skyline high up the stone walls, with giant beautiful flowers and clear waters that turtles swim in and hydra, at the waterfalls, at the upper pathways where creatures of stone still do whatever it is they do. "What do you see?" He pondered this. "I see a holy place. Revered by my ancestors. Haunted by them. The grave of my sires." "What are you truly, spirit?" he asked. "Certainly not an ancestor, nor even revered." She continued along tow
  11. "Desert heat-dreams perhaps? I have certainly not called you. You are disturbing my rest." Kerala cocks her head at the centaur. "Be about your quest quickly then," she told him. Her gesture invites him deeper into the tunnels. Even if her tone had been suffering or maybe slightly mocking. Her opinion of the centaur's errand has been made clear. Armagh raised his chest proudly, carrying the bone in a loose grip. He descended into the tunnels with Kerala. "Are you with the circle of the great father?" "I heard a voice on the wind, that sounded of stones..." As Armagh rounded
  12. It had been some time since Armagh had ventured into the ancestral burial grounds. The cataclysm had been unkind to his people, to say nothing of their own predilection of violence. He had come to...he was not certain. The centaur centered, and stopped. Kerala's form manifested silently behind the glowing shards of a crystal formation. She was near enough to spook the intruder, but just out of reach should his reaction be physically violent. She stepped out into view at the same time that she called out to him. "Lost, runt?" Armagh started and looked to the shadowy figur
  13. “Who were you talking to?” asked Ilduria, slinking her way down the hall. Seledyne turned, quickly, but did not jump. A pale green flash faded from the room, leaving only a dark basin before Seledyne. Ilduria stood in the doorway, the purple light of false dawn behind her. In Suramar, behind the shield wall, time moved differently. It flowed and ebb at behest of magisters, and sleep was more of a formality than a predicted time of day. The Shal’dorei had long dismissed notions of day and night, and had come to simply engage in activities of necessity without respect to a common schedule.
  14. I think a casual option is just to have characters you want to RP not get hit by the time stop. Like Elisande is a badass in her own right, and using a pillar of creation, also amped up by the Nightwell is doubtless a huge deal. But people get skipped over for all kinds of reasons. After all, it's a pretty big, complex spell, so even someone with her status isn't likely to just apply it to every peon and soldier; taking down heads of command and their honor guards is probably a solid enough tactical move to let the Duskwatch deal with whoever is left.