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Everything posted by RiktheRed21

  1. I can see a DK getting upset with hearthstone for not being represented like the other classes.
  2. I agree with Keraph on the undead race choice. Plus with your background of being a noble, you could easily use the background of any of the human kingdoms that were invaded by the Scourge, or Gilneas as it was invaded by the Forsaken in Cataclysm. Also the name Evangeline sounds particularly Gilnean, or undead as the case may be. Alternatively, if you wanted to be undead without all the bones sticking out, you could just be a human DK, although I understand you would prefer a Horde race. Blood Elf DK also works particularly well given the background and theme.
  3. Ravenholdt Alliance: Brinnea Ravenholdt Horde: Parigan
  4. ((WARNING: This post contains depictions of torture and gore.)) Brinnea sat huddled in the corner of a small, dank cell of stone and tightly packed dirt. The only way in or out was a thick metal door with a sliding panel for looking through. Her captors had dressed her wounds and set her leg in a brace of wood and cloth before shoving her into the cell and setting enchantments around the perimeter. All night, she sat in the cell with her thoughts and the writhing maggots to keep her company. The orc who took her down before, Orgog, she was certain Cynthia had spoken through him. Yet she also knew the warlock was not a fighter of the caliber Orgog displayed in Duskwood. Somehow, he was under her control, but retained his own skill in battle. The tauren, on the other hand, she had no idea if Cynthia had gotten to him, too. She could believe him coming after her after what she had done in Mulgore. All his troops, his friends, no doubt. Who knows, maybe he had been friends with the village elder she had… A door opened somewhere outside the cell. Muffled footfalls drew closer to the cell door. Brinnea dragged herself to her feet, careful not to damage the brace. The panel slid open and a pair of large golden eyes glared in at her. A jagged scar ran down the side of the tauren’s face. The Sunwalker. With a click and a long creak, the door slid open. Three tauren squeezed into the tiny cell and grabbed Brin around the arms. They half-carried, half-dragged her through a subterranean passage to another dimly lit stone room with a metal table, fitted with restraints, resting in the center of it. Brinnea did not resist as they set her on the table and restrained her. The guards stood by the door as the Sunwalker and an undead looked her up and down. The undead seemed amused by her, but discomfort and impatience was written in the wrinkles of the tauren’s face. It was clear he wanted this business done quickly. The undead man moved to the side of the table, grabbing a small table from the corner of the room and setting it beside where Brin was laying. He rolled out a bundle of medical instruments, and a second that seemed more geared towards torture. Brinnea showed no signs of fear as the undead admired his tools. The Sunwalker laid a hand on her shoulder and spoke to her softly, “I have no desire to see you suffer, Brinnea Velmon. However, there are questions that need to be answered about what happened the night you entered Kaur’he village.” Kaur’he, Brin thought to herself. So that’s what it was called. The tauren gave her shoulder a rough squeeze. “Don’t make it any harder than it has to be.” He released her and backed up. The undead leaned against the table casually. He gave Brin a dopey grin of rotting teeth when she looked up at him. “You look extraordinarily calm for a lady on an operating table, red,” he said, gesturing to her auburn hair. “Let me fix that. You see, before I died at the hands of one of your scum-soaked worthless shit-pile death knight brothers, I was a Scarlet cleric with a minor in undead torture.” Brin stared at him, her calm demeanor shattered by his smug words. A Scarlet cleric could harm her in ways that would twist her mind and body to the point of insanity and permanent crippling. An undead does not often feel true fear, but in the face of this realization, she felt fear bathe her like a bucket of ice-cold water. The undead patted her on the arm and moved back to his tools as the Sunwalker spoke again. “Let us begin. The day before you commenced your attack, where were you, and why?” Brinnea steadied her thoughts and began, “I was investigating the surrounding area. Looking for signs of Lady Skylah Mackenzie’s kidnappers.” The undead’s hand flared up with the power of the Light. In his other hand, a hot poker soaked in the Light, and glowed, casting an ominous shadow on the torturer’s face. The tauren spoke again, “Be more specific. Who were you with? Where were you looking?” “I was…I was alone.” The tauren frowned deeply. “Do not lie, Brinnea Velmon.” The poker dug into Brin’s arm. For a brief moment, she felt no pain. She felt nothing at all. The shock wore off after a moment. The pain was sharp, like a concentrated sunburn stabbing into her flesh. The raw energy of it forced a scream between her lips. Her body convulsed as wave after wave of Light pulsed across her body. Her vision was dotted with black spots, and her ears rang. The tauren shouted something inaudible to the undead, and the poker was released from her arm. Slowly, the pain subsided, until it was just a throb in the right half of her body. After a moment, she realized she had been gasping for air, and forced herself to calm down and focus. She tried to avoid looking at her arm, but couldn’t resist the temptation. Whatever flesh remained around the wound was charred black and peeling away. Bone and sinew were visible underneath. She tore her eyes away. “This room is sealed with a zone of truth. If you or anyone else lies, I know,” the tauren continued, “Again, I ask, who were you with the day of your attack?” Brin replied, though every word pained her, “I was with the Twilight Empire and the Cup and Blade Caravan that evening. We were looking around Honor’s Stand for evidence of where the Grim took Skylah. At nightfall, I left the Stand with two of my fellow Imperials before they, too, headed back.” The Sunwalker nodded. “And what about after nightfall?” Brinnea grunted as her head racked with pain. “I meditated on what I wanted to do for perhaps an hour, and I flew into the valley to the first village I came across and killed the guards. Then I…” The tauren put up a hand. “I know the rest. But tell me, did you attack on your own volition, or were you given orders?” Brinnea shook her head, “I was alone. No one gave me orders.” “No one asked you to or gave you a suggestion?” “No one. It was my decision and mine alone.” He looked her in the eyes for a moment. Then he nodded. “How many civilians did you kill?” “Only one. The elder, he… He tried to take me down to free everyone. I had to kill him or he would have crushed me. I didn’t want to hurt any of them…” The undead snorted. The tauren shot him a look and said, “We’re done with questions, then. I believe you are a misguided person, Brinnea Velmon, but not a malicious or evil one. Perhaps with better luck, we could have been friends. But, you are a danger to the world now. I have to put you down, and my people need to know they have no cause to fear you anymore. I do not hate you, death knight.” He put his hand on her head, looked her in the eyes and said, “But I am not sorry for what I must do, either.” He walked off and told the guards to take her back to the cell.
  5. “The notorious terrorist death knight known as Brinnea Velmon has been captured…” “…to be briefly interrogated, and publicly executed…” Parigan read and re-read the words again and again. Brinnea was in Horde custody. Within the next couple weeks, she would be put to death. It would be even worse for her if someone with a grudge got to her beforehand. Parigan crumpled the paper with his working hand and tossed it aside angrily. He stormed off, his metal boot and prosthetic foot scraping loudly along the slimy wet cobbles of the Undercity. He exited the city through the pipeline leading up to the mouth of a cave, and strode across the glade to the ring of tents surrounding a ruined tower. He made his way to a small brown tent containing his own supplies. Hastily, he packed them all into a thick bundle and threw it over his back. His actions caught the attention of a nearby officer. “Blackmane!” the undead called out, “Where do you think you’re going?” Parigan started to walk away without a word. The mercenary pursued. “Hey! You still have two months before your contract is up. You leave now and I’ll see to it no mercenary band ever hires you again!” Parigan stopped a few yards past the edge of camp and shouted loudly into the night. In the distant hills, an onyx nether drake flew towards Parigan’s shout. The mercenary scoffed and stomped back into camp, muttering curses. The drake landed before Parigan and awaited him patiently. Parigan leapt onto the dragon’s back and in a flash, they were in the air. They flew west, across the glade and the mountains, then out into open sea. Parigan spoke to his faithful drake, “We’re going all the way across to Kalimdor. I am needed in Thunder Bluff.”
  6. The following notice has been spread to all major Horde cities: "Attention citizens of the Horde, The notorious terrorist death knight known as Brinnea Velmon has been captured after a brief skirmish in Duskwood where she was engaged in battle with members of the Alliance. She is to be briefly interrogated, and publicly executed in Thunder Bluff within the fortnight. To all those whose families were irrevocably sundered by this human's actions, be at peace knowing she will face ultimate judgement soon enough. -Quaran Goldfield, Captiain of Mulgore Guard."
  7. Brinnea gathered her followers around her in the quiet clearing. The dank haze of Duskwood permeated all around them into a thin mist that shrouded the expressions on each of her allies’ faces. The dark made them all but invisible from more than a few feet away. She knew only two of them by name by now; the stoic draenei warrior with a massive spiked shield was called Kellas the Shield-Bearer. The gnome with the sniper rifle went by the name Dom. They both volunteered to come with Brinnea when she mentioned a visit to Duskwood. The Order’s members seemed raring for something to preoccupy their time. The long stay in Alterac had them restless, which made them as dangerous as bandits at times. The rest of those gathered were young recruits, many of whom had recently left the scattered remains of the Alterac Syndicate for one reason or another. Mostly it was the matter of their empty coffers. Brinnea had been teaching them how to fight, and these few had decided to see some combat close-up. Brinnea had warned them she didn’t come here for a fight, but one might be all but inevitable. She hoped they wouldn’t take that as an invitation to try and raid the Mackenzie Manor. When their mounts had been properly secured and their gear accounted for, Brinnea spoke to the lot of them. “I’m going to speak with them alone. If I need help, I’ll signal with my flare. With luck we’ll get out of here without any trouble, but don’t hesitate to flee if things take a turn for the worse.” She looked around at them all. There were some scattered nods. She took that as a sign of readiness and turned to walk to the manor. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: There is a bustle about the gate and surrounding wall, armored footsteps moving hither and thither. Eventually, both Brianna and Rorrek arrive upon the scene whilst the latter lent forth directions which wafted down vaguely from the distance. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea stands before the gate, holding a helmet under her arm and two scimitars and a dagger resting in sheathes on her belt. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: She stands solemnly and silently, awaiting response from the residents of the estate. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek had soon after leant over the rampart, brow to furrow as he peered upon the lone figure. Recognition flashed within his eyes, to which he leaned back and spoke quietly to Brianna. However, he makes no indication of speaking yet to the Death Knight. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea glances up at the peak of the wall, noticing Rorrek's glance, but says nothing herself, deigning to speak when addressed. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: The Priestess peers dispassionately down upon the Death Knight, though there is an austerity in her gaze as she recognizes the person. Her voice is raised, a biting edge to it, as she addresses the undead. "What do you want, Velmon?" [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek stepped from sight, issuing then unseen gestures toward the maintained guard of the estate. There is another bustle of footfalls, to which thereafter do peak forward slowly crossbows and bolts over the tower battlements which flanked the gate. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea looks up at the priestess with a blank expression, saying, "I wished to speak with you, Magistra. To offer condolences, and to ask a favor." [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: An incredulous expression crosses her dark gaze as she raised one brow. "For the trouble you have cause, you dare to offer condolences? ...and you seek a favor?" A small disgruntled noise may be heard in her throat. "Speak then." [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: "For any trouble I may have caused, I am sorry. I strive to make up for every mistake I've made, but there is much yet I have to set right. My only concern was to see your sister home safe, and to be sure she stayed that way." [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek gave pause as he heard the words drift over the wall, a momentary pang of an unspoken regret within his stern gaze. However, moments later does he see about to the guard once more. There is yet more bustling and movement above. The crossbows aim. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Brianna shook her head in disbelief, her mouth drawing into a grim line. "If Skylah's safety was your true concern, you would not have involved innocents so recklessly. Are you aware she lost her hand as a direct result of your actions?" [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea's hands remain firmly at her sides, away from the hilts of her swords. She continues, "What the Grim did or did not do had nothing to do with me. If they wanted her hand, they would have taken it anyway." [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: The clattering of sabatons on stone continued, though now it were accompanied with a faint dragging sound...Several thuds followed suit before halting all together, such sounds resounding not from the flanking towers, but from above the gate instead... [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Brianna sets her jaw, clenching tightly as the hands at her side curl into fists. There seems to be an internal struggle dancing within her harsh gaze. "You are wrong. You are choosing to be ignorant of your actions." [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea shakes her head. "Not ignorant. I feel regret every day for what I had control over, but this was different. I did what I had to." [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek returned to the battlement, glancing over as he spoke aloud. "The slaughter of those innocent, for whom knew not nor conspired, is deed to be defended not. Such is to be reviled." His tone is solemn, tinged with disappointment. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: "I will not make excuses for myself on that count. However, if you truly wish to see the innocent go unscathed, you might consider what I have to ask of you." [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Brianna glances to Rorrek briefly, sharing unspoken words with him before turning her cold attentions back to the Death Knight. "Speak your favor." [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: "Ever since I began taking the medical herbs you sent me, my visions seemed to be receding, that is, until I lost what I had left. Now, the visions are growing more prominent, distracting, sometimes driving me out of control of my actions." [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Brianna remains silent, listening with a slightly frigid impassiveness. There is a flicker of interest in her gaze upon hearing the visions were growing more prominent but she says nothing, awaiting further words. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: "Because of all that has happened, I would understand if you didn't want anything to do with my treatment, but I trust no one else with my memories than someone of the Empire. I do not wish to harm anyone, or bring myself to harm for <c> [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: "negligence in this matter." [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: There is a more quiet approach behind the gate itself, a shuffling of several armored persons. They halt behind the still shut gate, waiting...Momentarily had Rorrek stepped away, as if to check such preparations. Upon returning, and hearing the words, - [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: - does he look to Brianna. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: It might involve going through the entire dictionary and replacing every word with a string of at least five)) [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: "Do you mean to tell me that your actions against the Tauren village were due to one of your spoke of blackouts?" Sincere curiosity fringed her voice, though it remained unfriendly. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea closes her eyes and lowers her head for a moment. "I told you, I'm not making excuses for my actions. All you need to know is more people died than needed to because of my lack in control." [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Brianna seemed highly unsatisfied with such an answer, stepping hastily away from the ramparts. An unseen conversation ensued once she was out of sight, lasting for a lengthy pause. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek remained stationed at the brim of the rampart, though he glanced over his pauldron. A tension arose within the quiet air as he stared down impassively. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Out of sight Brianna begins busying herself with issued orders spoken in hushed tones from the Knight. A subtle light may perhaps be seen in a very brief flash atop the ramparts. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea pretends not to notice the guards gathering on the other side of the gate, but she does rest an arm on the hilt of one of her blades. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek continued to stare down, stoic and still. He then spoke aloud. "Hast thou further to request?" [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Rejoins Rorrek, stepping close to his side. A whispered word is exchanged before her glance shifts to the Death Knight below. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea re-fixes her gaze on Rorrek. "I have nothing more to ask of you except to take my request into consideration." [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: There is a tension in Brianna's stance as she speaks aloud. "Perhaps I could continue your treatments..." [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek remained silent for a brief period. He quietly sighed before resolving. It is then that, with a gesture of his hand, the crossbows trained upon Brinnea let loose their bolts, aiming for the woman's legs and lower abdomen. A harsh cry rings <c> [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: <c> out from atop the gate, and the guards whom had huddled against the ramparts rise. The men cast the weighted nets down toward Brinnea's person, such broad and thick. Said nets as well seem to exude an obviously recently imbued presence of Light. <c> [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: The gate groans, beginning to slowly rise. The Knight glared downward as the bolts and nets flew in haste, holding onto the brim with his gauntlets. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea tenses as the bolts are loosed. From her mouth, a gale of frosty wind bursts forth, knocking the arrows off course and flash-freezing them into solid chunks of ice. In a flash, her scimitars were in her hands, and nets shredded apart in the air... [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: ...like dried leaves. She took a ready stance as the guards came closer. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: "I suppose I've overstayed my welcome." [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: The gate rises still, though a sharp yell from the Knight above commands it halt before the men in formation behind it are revealed wholly and thus vulnerable to onslaught. The Knight grits his jaw and yells again. "Volley!" The bolts resume. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea sprints closer to the gates, aiming to place herself in the midst of the gathering guards. Any bolt flying toward her would have a good chance of hitting an ally. She parries any blows aimed at her by the guards. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea shores up against the wall, putting on her helmet and setting off a bright orange flare as the guards are still on the other side of the gate. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Brianna watched with a frenzied gaze as the nets were sliced apart effortlessly. She took cover, half behind a risen slab of rampart. Her hands glow brightly with divine Light as she peers briefly below, the Death Knight out of sight. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Words were exchanged with Rorrek, unheard over the clang of armaments below. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The light of the flare cast long shadows in the forest beyond the walls of the estate. Shadowy figures shuffled around just out of sight, coming closer. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek's gauntlet met the stone rampart harshly. The gate is closed, though the men remain readied behind it should it open again. The Knight barked harshly before hearing Brianna's words. "Hold! Lend aim and wait! Be readied to loose at will!" [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek spoke hurriedly to Brianna as the scene stilled, crossbowmen within the towers and behind the protective outcroppings of wall to take aim in wait for any movement. It is then that the distant figures are glimpsed. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek spoke with hushed severity, footsteps hurrying around his person until yet more dragging could be heard. Presumably the gathering of yet more weighted nets. It would seem the Knight has indeed prepared the estate beforehand... [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea waits against the wall as her reinforcements draw nearer. Then, one of them emerges from behind a tree, a large draenei man carrying a hefty spiked metal shield, quickly advancing. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: The Priestess sent a rushed divine star into the distance, towards the amassed shadows, exploding brightly after a moment of hovering above in the air. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: More troops, at least five more come into sight just beyond the treeline. Suddenly, a loud gunshot echoes from the forest, and an even brighter flash blinds those on the top of the ramparts. Brinnea bursts into a sprint. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek shielded Brianna, pulling her aside into a crouch as the blinding flare is arisen. "Hold! Hold fire!" The crossbowmen stay their bolts once they recuperate from the reeling light. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Shields of light are immediately arisen to encompass those upon the ramparts, momentarily blinded by the flash. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea reaches the draenei halfway to the edge of the woods. The two of them begin to move back towards the woods with the shield covering most of their vital areas. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Brianna stills her aim at Rorrek's behest, lowering her hand as the Light coalescing there dims slightly. She blinks against the spots in her gaze, though she is able to see the parties retreat. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek had come to stand, gripping the rampart's brim resentfully. A shout for horses arises behind the gate, to which he swiftly orders that such be belayed at once. He stares into the distance then as they make their escape, unpursued. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: As the pair begin to retreat towards the woods, one of the lurkers in the tree suddenly flies out from behind the tree, a human man, but with his head freshly severed. Brinnea and the draenei pause suddenly. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: An orc, dressed in dragonscale plate and wielding a fiery axe walks out from behind the trees with the dead man's head on the head of his weapon, and his other hand around the throat of another of Brinnea's allies. He gives Brin a toothy grin. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek watched from the distant estate, gaze sharp and observant as the scene unfolded. He glanced then to Brianna at the sight of the Orc... [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea shouts a curse at the orc and a quick order to the draenei with the shield before rushing off towards the orc. As she does, the orc flings the severed head at her with great force. She ducks out of the way. Her blades rise to meet the orc's axe... [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: The Priestess furrowed her brow, emerald gaze widening ever so subtly. Her slender frame tensed once more, uncertainty flashing across her features. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek watched the clash intently, though the Knight is less focused upon the actual quarrel itself. He seems to be watching the surrounding woodlands, as if to ascertain their numbers. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: A loud *clang* rings out as Brinnea's blades wobble at the sheer force of the orc's one-handed parry. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The draenei shield-bearer waits for any guards looking to charge them while Brinnea deals with the attacker. The orc walks slowly forward, blocking every strike with one arm, while tightening his grip on his prisoner's throat with the other. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The other allies hiding in the shadows seem to be holding back, as if afraid to join in. The sniper has yet to fire another shot. Brinnea is forced backwards slowly by the orc's strikes. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: The Knight, after a time, turned from the clash as further reinforcements seemed absent. A cry rings out, to perhaps be heard at the quarrel for a host and horses to assemble...There is much tumult from behind the gate that might perhaps not remain - [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: - closed forever... [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Brianna remained alert, watching the battle below unfold with intense emerald eyes. The Light at her hands continued to amass, ready at a moment’s notice should any attempt to come towards the gates. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The orc pushes Brin back, then tosses the limp body in his hand to the side. He brings his axe down in, now with the force of both hands. Brinnea tries to regain balance, but the blow lands just before she can block. A stream of blood spurts forth... [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The blade in Brinnea's left hand falls on the ground, the frost it permeated sputtered out. Looking down briefly, Brin saw that at least three of her fingers had been sheared off. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The orc's boot rises and falls on Brinnea's knee as she tries to adjust her stance. She falls to a kneeling position. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: For the first time, conflicting emotions arose in the dark gaze as she saw the Death Knight fall to her knees. She makes a hasty turn, as if heading to descend the tower... [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The draenei curses as he sees Brin being overwhelmed. He charges at the orc, shouting a battle cry in draenic. His mace and shield block the orc's axe, which had been intended to sever the death knight's head. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek reached out, gripping Brianna's arms. His demeanor is hard, though not unkind unto her as he shook his brow from side to side. He made to speak further, but it is then that horns sound from the estate walls. The host of guards and horses are <c> [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: <c> assembled at the gate below, to which the portcullis began to slowly rise. A flood of armored horsemen unto the scene below perhaps lend pause to intruders found...As well, the sounding horns are sure to attract other inhabitants of the Duskwood <c> [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: <c> should they stay too long with their fight... [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The draenei clearly cannot stand up to the sheer strength of the orc. His shield arm quickly fails, and the axehead is planted between the man's horns. He falls to the ground, lifeless. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Brinnea looks between the dead shield-bearer and the orc. She lifts herself from the ground slowly, leaning on a sword for balance. The orc kicked her back down and knocked her remaining blade away. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The orc looks up at the incoming guardsmen. He lets out a bellowing laugh. "Yes, bring more lambs to the slaughter! You shall learn what makes us strong, humans!" He draws a second battleaxe and places a foot on Brin's body, locking her in place. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Despite the taunt, the mounted guardsmen but remain near the open gate. Torches are distributed in haste, lighting the darkness and revealing that such sortie is not a small number, enough to overwhelm perhaps even the stoutest. The Knight atop the <c> [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: <c> attempted to make past Brianna, as if to join the host which awaited below. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Brianna followed the Knight, taking such as an invitation. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: A wyvern lunged forth from the shadowy woods, landing beside the orc gracefully. A passenger was seated on the beast's back, a tauren Sunwalker with a jagged scar across his face. He dismounted, a hammer in one hand and a hook and chain in the other. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: The Priestess steeled her will, taking a deep breath as she called upon a great source of Light; speaking inaudible incantations as she did so. The front riders were shielded as prayers of mending were sent into their armored frames. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: The Knight's armored steed were held at the reins by the party's head, Rorrek to take such and see Brianna mounted behind his personage atop the beast. It is then that the gate closes behind them, and the host prepares itself with horns aloud. <c> [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: <c> A charge is imminent, obvious to any whom could see their sizable and well-armed gathering. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The tauren glared at the death knight on the ground before saying, "Justice demands this, murderer." He kneels and drives the hook into Brin's shoulder as the orc moves forward to stall the incoming guards. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The tauren looks up from his work and shouts, "Hold there! This is between us and the death knight!" He looks at the orc and says sternly, "Orgog, hold your damn ground!" The orc stops with a growl. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: The riders, at Rorrek's command, formed into a stout wedge formation. The mounted Knight and Priestess form the spearhead of the gathering, to which the rider at their side passes Rorrek a hefty lance as many carried. The Knight yells in response: [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: "Thy fury is understood, righteous as it may be. Nonetheless...such shall -not- be hither." The final word is given in a grating and severe tone which brooked no negotiation. "Leave." [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: With a chain in hand and a hoof placed on Brin's body, the tauren rose and addressed Rorrek, who seemed to be the man in charge. "We did not come to fuel any aggression. This is a dangerous fugitive, and we are taking her back to Thunder Bluff for<c> [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: a swift and public execution." [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The orc snorted. "I heard you lot left this one out for the wolves. We're going nowhere without her in chains." [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: From behind the Knight, Brianna leans forward to speak privately with him. She seems intent on something, the Light growing brightly at her palm as a trail begins to form quite literally out of it, akin to a weightless ribbon. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek's demeanor shifted for a time as the explanation of judicial execution rang out, to which silence followed. The host looked to the Knight, horses awaiting and at the ready. He contemplates this grimly, staring at Brinnea. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The tauren moves to finish wrapping the chains around Brinnea's body while the orc paces restlessly, staring down the mounted knight. [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: After several moments of there being no response does the Knight lift a single gauntlet. His countenance is as stone, his voice authoritative and stoic. "...Open the gate." The gate slowly opened, the riders in the back of the formation preparing to <c> [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: <c> return within. Yet, the front half were bidden stay at Rorrek's behest as if to see the task and capture through from their distant position. He nods slowly towards the Tauren. "Be swift, and leave this place." [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The tauren gives Rorrek a thankful nod. He says to the orc Orgog, "Put those away. We're leaving." He stands and lifts Brin onto his shoulder. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Orgog huffs and mounts the wind rider as he puts his axes back in their straps. [Mackinzie-Ravenholdt]: Brianna's mouth parted slightly at the unexpected order. "Dalah'felo..." She spoke with a slight horror to her voice. "Surely we cannot..." [Rorrek-Ravenholdt]: Rorrek grew still within his saddle, gauntlets lashed tightly around the reins. His visage is darkened, such coursing through every crevasse of his statuesque presence. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The tauren calls for a second mount, a rylak which flies from the woods. He, too mounts up, with his captive in the saddle. [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: The tauren takes off, flying up into the night sky and out of sight. The orc starts to float up, and turns to face Rorrek one more time. "We'll be seeing you again real soon, puny warrior." [brinnea-Ravenholdt]: Then he takes off. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Light pierced through a veil of darkness as Brinnea’s eyes tentatively fluttered open. The pain had dulled by now, and the bleeding had stopped, but she could still tell her leg was untended to, and her hand and shoulder had been left alone as well. She was sitting in a chair in a dimly lit room with a green candle lighting a small space in which two chair sat facing one another. She could not see the walls through the dark. Her arms and legs were tied down by chains imbued with the holy Light. She didn’t bother struggling too much; the Light made her runes disobey her commands and drew the unholy strength from her muscles. In her condition, she would be little use in any fight, so she chose instead with another course of action. “HEY!” she shouted, “I’M AWAKE, YOU BASTARDS!!” Shortly after, a hidden door opened, letting light flood into the room as the orc who had captured her stepped in. He closed the door, and it was dark again. Only his angry red eyes were fully visible in the dark space. Brinnea spoke, “I don’t think this is Thunder Bluff, orc. Come to have your way with me before the headsman takes me away?” She layered her voice with a bitter tone. The orc stepped into the light of the candle, towering over the death knight in the chair. He spoke in a voice that didn’t seem to belong to him, one that was almost too gentle and silky for an orc, “Oh, Brin-Brin. If only we had as much time as we wanted together… The things we could accomplish together make my mind pulse with excitement!” Brinnea’s face twisted in surprise. She hadn’t expected anything like this. He spoke as if he knew her, almost as if… He continued, “But alas, you and I wouldn’t work out. Even after you impressed me with your actions in Mulgore, I was disappointed to see you were still your old, self-righteous self. Some habits never die, hmm?” Brinnea’s eyes widened. That voice, she knew who it belonged too. Gazing into the red eyes of the orc, she swore for a moment she saw them flicker bright gold. “Cyn-Cynthia?” Brin asked timidly. The orc gave her a wide, toothy grin. “So glad to see you again, Brin my dear. I’ve missed you, hmmm…”
  8. So if he had made a Horde design instead, you would have given him an H?
  9. <p>It's also a scottish name</p>

  10. <p>Don't blame a playa for liking dwarf names</p>

  11. <p>Yes. I based it on the Latin word for silver, argentum. So I took the "arg" and made the first name that came to mind. No regrets.</p>

  12. Full Name: Khorus Ravenwing Nicknames: The Black Flame of Eversong Date of Birth: July 15, about 200 years before the Dark Portal opened Age: ~230 years Race: Sin’dorei Gender: Male Hair: Golden Blonde Skin: Pale Eyes: Fel green Height: 6’5’’ Weight: 160 lbs Place of residence: Silvermoon City, Eversong Place of Birth: Silvermoon City, Eversong Known Relatives: Father: Matthanos, Mother: Oricelle, Brother: Vergil, Aunt: Janiel, Uncle: Jorfis Religion/Philosophy: Non-practicing Occupation: Artificer, Opera Singer/Actor, Archaeologist Enemies: The Reliquary Likes: Warm weather, socializing Favorite Foods: Chicken Favorite Drinks: Sweet wines Favorite Colors: Gold, red, black Weapons of Choice: Elven swords, estoc Dislikes: Cold and wet weather, quiet places, dull or superstitious people Hobbies: Experimentation and treasure hunting Physical Features: Built strong for an elf mage. Hefty upper body and lithe lower body. Built to dance or fence. Special Abilities: A fire-based battlemage that channels fire spells through his blade and uses mage armor to suppresses the impact of enemy strikes and spells. Armored arm grants ability to freely manipulate magnetic fields up to levitating approximately 100 lbs. of magnetic metal for two minutes. Carries enough metal in his bag of holding to coat his body in armor. Positive Personality Traits: Upbeat and relaxed. Doesn’t let things get him down and is highly resourceful and inspires confidence. Negative Personality Traits: Self-confident and boastful. Considered an outcast by many due to his odd mannerisms and experiments. He associates with shady characters on a regular basis, and often doesn’t flinch at atrocities committed, unless done to people he cares for. Misc. Quirks: Often plays with fire, even in flammable environments. Sometimes stops paying attention to what people are saying because he thinks something else is more interesting. Theme Songs: Blood Thirst Concerto - Soul Calibur V Summer - Vivaldi’s Seasons History: Born and raised in Silvermoon City. Was childhood friends with an elf named Alleda. His father, Matthanos, was a detached and disinterested man who often took out his anger on his wife and children. During Khorus’ youth, his mother Oricelle left Eversong and disappeared entirely. Khorus was close to his mother, and was devastated by her leaving. He blamed his father for it, and became obsessed with finding her, while growing steadily less loyal to his father. Meanwhile, Khorus’ brother Virgil became a respected paladin and a keeper of the peace. Khorus would eventually become a member of the Kirin Tor and fought alongside the Grand Alliance in the Second War. He joined Kael’thas and the Illidari when the elves’ homeland was invaded by the Scourge. He became addicted to demonic energies, and even now continues to harvest fel magic to fuel his addiction, shunning the Naaru’s gift of a new Sunwell for reasons unknown. Never one to settle for a single vocation, Khorus has bounced from one faction to the next, often departing on poor terms, to find a new manner of enhancing his power. His power-hungry nature stems from his ultimate desire to find and protect his mother from all harm.
  13. The fights came right down to the last minute, lots of intense moments and memorable shenanigans. Definitely worth coming out!
  14. It was a dark and stormy night... Of course, the Eye of Netherstorm was always stormy, but this one was particularly nasty. I stood still and adamant beside the Horde soldiers to my right. We were surrounded by a purple luminescent shield that protected us from the violent lightning storm until it passed. In a minute, the shield would lift and we would charge for the outposts around the Eye. Either we capture this point, or we would never return to Azeroth. The simplicity of the situation reassured me. All I would need to do was fight, survival wasn't key. Fear never once entered my mind, I can't remember what fear feels like now. "Undead, report in!" The grouchy orc captain Thoron shouted in my direction, and I answered with an unenthusiastic "Yes, sir." "Listen up! We are the Horde, the Alliance can't defeat us, not here or ever. LOK'TAR O GAR!" The others responded loudly with the Horde's beloved motto. I stood silent, anticipating. The shield dropped, and I sprinted for the nearest tower. I summoned my skeletal warhorse, Brand, and charged ahead for the tower. A few other Horde soldiers followed me and helped me place flags and defensive barricades at the tower. A lookout signaled that the Alliance had met the other soldiers at the central point. I glanced over the scene and saw many Horde warriors slain and thrown off the cliffs. The magi and firing squad at the back were forced to move back. I realized now that the other soldiers hadn't been prepared for this mission. I hadn't thought that I might have been placed in a sacrificial unit. "Alliance scouting party, from the north!" the Horde scout called out. I moved down the hill and prepared to jump down at the detachment. A volley of Troll arrows flew past my head, hitting the targets below. I sprang down, weapons first, into the huddle. The Alliance hadn't put up their guard yet, and I managed to kill a Draenei with my blade. I twisted around, slamming a Worgen with my shield and slashing at a nearby Human with my sword. The next few moments were a rush as arrows flew around, spells barely missed me many times, and another warrior swung his blade to meet my shield. For a few moments, the only battle I sensed was ours, our swords clashed, our shields crashed, and finally our flesh was rent and torn until the man could take no more and bled to death. A healing spell reinvigorated my body and snapped my mind back into focus. The Horde scout had been killed by fire, but the remaining Alliance retreated back to the main line. All I had left with me was a Tauren shaman and an Orc hunter who loaded his gun and took the Troll's place as scout. He began to call out, but was interrupted by a gunshot that blew out his chest. He fell over and quickly died. The Tauren prepared his hammer and I charged the new Alliance attackers. My shield protected my body and my sword dealt death to those who came too close. I took long range spells and gunshots in my legs, forcing me to slow down. Many bones were broken and the pain began to take effect. I charged again, this time with the shaman next to me. We fought off many of the soldiers, but more replaced them. More spells were cast at us. The shaman threw up an earthen shield; I prepared to defend the sides from more attacks when a heavy force crashed down on me. The earthen shield had collapsed, and crushed me with debris. A warlock's demon had broken through it and began swinging at the shaman's head. He tried to kill it with a fire shot but was disrupted by a warrior's shout. The Tauren bravely fought until he was overwhelmed and killed. I climbed out of the debris and readied my weapons. The Alliance soldiers struck, I defended over and over, blocking axe, sword, spell, even gunshot. I fell down the cliffside to clear some distance from the magi and hunters and prepared to fight again. A shadow blotted out the little light that patched through the storm. I looked up, and saw a nether drake descend from the sky. It vanished, dropping off a well-armed Worgen, which I recognized as my brother, Ersolon. "Small world, isn't it Parigan?" he said, to my surprise, in the Forsaken language, "But I am glad to see you again, how's death treating you?" "Horribly, are you happy now? Kill me or die trying, but don't expect to have some dramatic, poetic last moment with your dear, departed brother," I responded hastily. I charged him and swung at his throat. He lazily parried my strike with the shaft of his spear. "Oh, come now Pari, is that the best you can do?" I swung again, and again. I raised my shield at his body, but he back-stepped and kicked me down. I sprang up, lunging with my blade, but he caught it with his spear and with a twist, disarmed me. "You really have grown, little Parigan. Too bad I was always better than you," at the end of his line, he lunged at my leg, I blocked, but it was a feint. He swung around and clipped my helm. It flew off and I fell to the ground again. He leapt into the air and stabbed down at me. I rolled just as his spear met the ground. As I jumped to my feet, I grabbed my blade and swung around to intercept his attack. Again, he feinted at the last second and swept my leg, causing me to lose my balance. He slashed his claws across my face, managing to leave one bloody scar by my left eye. I backed up. He pursued. I tried to take another step, but my foot met only air. Behind me was an infinite fall into the Twisting Nether. I regained my balance and decided to make my final stand then and there. Ersolon barked out a laugh and began to close in slowly. "Goodbye, Parigan. I will be sure to tell Father you died bravely." He lunged, but his spear was intercepted mid-strike by the Horde captain. The orc took advantage of Ersolon’s surprise and pummeled the worgen in the chest with his armored shoulder. My brother took a step back. "Look around you, pup! See any blue flags flying?" the captain called to Mayes. He looked around, seeing that his army had been forced to retreat. "This isn't over, orc. I'll be sure to take your head when next we meet!" "You talk too much,” I responded to Mayes's threat, “Fight on if you’re so confident!" He gave me a threatening gaze, but backed off, summoning his drake with a loud howl. He flew off into the storm, out of sight. "Good work holding him off, undead,” Thoron said, turning to face me, “That worgen is an Alliance general from Gilneas, very powerful." Grol said to me. "I'll be sure to report his appearance here to the Warchief." After the Horde reassembled at assigned posts, I mended my wounds, and reflected on my failures. Memories trickled into my mind at the thought of my brother. He had been a tall, handsome young man with the thick black hair of our family. Woman had loved him. I recalled him often forcing me to go out with him to find a girl of my own. He had been the one to crack my shell of teenage isolation, and possibly the one responsible for bringing Brinnea and me together. Conflicting emotions clouded my mind, but I shoved them away. We were enemies now, plain and simple. If we met again, I would not let him leave alive.
  15. Welcome, Ostrich! You'll find that the Ravenholdt-Twisting Nether community is very close-knit and well organized! These forums see activity daily. You came to the right place for RP!
  16. Gilneas. The land that had once been my home was now ravaged by the hellfire of war. The land was plagued, the forests burned, and I hungered for the flesh of my enemies. I pulled my hammer out of the skull of a Worgen I had killed and began to put away my weapon when I heard a howl behind me. As I turned to see the origin of the noise, I heard another howl to my right. More and more howls surrounded my position until I realized it was too late to escape. No reinforcements could help me now; the Worgen had circled around me. The beasts waited at a distance of about ten yards, snarling and drooling at the sight of me. I felt no fear as I stared at what I was convinced was my second death. I only felt curious. Curious at how one Worgen, the leader it seemed, looked so familiar. He approached slowly and I readied my hammer. Just as the hammer rose to waist-length, the beast leaped onto me, pinning me to the ground. The hammer flew out of my hand and the Worgen put a spear's tip to my throat. We stared into each other's eyes for a moment, and then another. He seemed as interested in me as I was in him. His deep, red eyes failed to hide an emotion: sorrow. The Worgen began to change shape into a human, an eerily familiar human. He was roughly my height, about six feet tall, and was built like a tank. His chainmail armor was fancy and well decorated with war medals. He looked handsome with long, black hair, braided for war. His eyes had become a deep brown, gazing compassionately down at me. He spoke one word in the Common Tongue, and though my muddied memory could only recall pieces of the language, this word I recognized. "Brother." Joy? Sadness? Anger? Relief? No. I felt none of these emotions as I gazed upon my brother's face. I supposed I had never liked my brother much, but even now I don't truly remember. He said more Common words that I couldn't understand. He eased back his weapon. I capitalized and lashed with my sharpened fingers. His blade pressed into my neck, releasing a slight trickle of body fluid and a few moist coughs from me. "Release me or kill me," I told him. He obviously didn't understand my words, but he did respond with horror at the fact that I spoke them at all. He seemed to finally come to grips with the fact that I was undead. Emerging in my field of view was a Worgen, who whispered in my brother's ear. After a brief exchange, the Worgen walked out of sight and my brother looked back at me. He slowly regained his furry features and canine body. He fell back as well, letting his spear away from my throat. I got up and waited for him to act first. "Go," He said. I could understand as much. I replied with a single word as well: "Brinnea." He waved off the other Worgen and began to dig through his bag. He threw a trinket at me, which I caught. "Sorry," He said to me, then turned and ran off into the shadows. I racked my brain until I remembered his name, Ersolon. I tried to think of what he had been like but it was too difficult for my mind to decipher. I instead focused on the trinket in my hand. It was a necklace, a dark amethyst with silver lining and a gold chain. Etched in the gem was a symbol I recognized as a black wolf howling at a silvery full moon. I began to feel faint all of a sudden, and a strange fog rolled into my vision. I lost all feeling in my body and passed out. The dream had no background, but two figures seemed to be conversing in Common. I looked upon them and recognized both of them Ersolon, as a human, and Brinnea. She looked as beautiful as I remembered, but something about her caught my attention. She wore a necklace, the same necklace that I was holding in my hand. The scene ended and the dark fog lifted. I awoke on the ground and rose. I began to walk back to the Forsaken Front wondering what I had seen meant.
  17. Darkness. That is all that awaited me in this strange new world. I was surrounded by an eternal emptiness, forever expansive. No emotion or physicality followed me here. All that was left was the void. I drifted for what seemed an eternity, until finally I sensed a new presence. Light, eternal and unending, just as expansive as the darkness which receded around it. It appealed to every sensation I had. I not only saw the light, I felt its warmth, heard joyous noise from its depths, smelled and tasted is wondrous promises of happiness. I felt only the joy which it brought me, experienced only the ecstasy of an existence without laws or limits. There was only one force at work here, the power of the Light. As I gazed within the depths of the light, I saw a silhouette that gleamed brighter than a thousand suns, clear as day even in the ultimate illumination behind it. I approached, and saw a woman with free-flowing, beautiful scarlet hair, as if it were a wildfire upon a golden plain. Brinnea. She smiled, radiating bliss. I neared her, reached out to be one with her, when a new presence entered the void. A new darkness, a much more sinister being that sought to grab hold of my soul and rip it from Brinnea’s grasp. Emotion ran through me, Mortality entered my being once more. Brinnea’s spirit vanished within the dark flames that rose from the Nether. I felt as if my soul was ripped apart and put together again by a six foot stitching needle. The pain was unbearable, and seemed to last an eternity. Then in an instant, I woke to life once more. “Arise, and become Forsaken,” an unknown voice called out. My eyelids peeled back slowly and light entered my vision once more. My first view was of the night sky, rendered insignificant next to the void I had been taken from. The expanse of darkness now seemed so limited, and the multitude of light from the numerous stars lacked the same feeling of joy the true Light had provided. I looked forward toward the voice’s origin. I saw a being bathed in light with the body of a beautiful woman. She had wings of a great Gryphon’s, and stared at me from behind a horned helm. My mind slowly began to wake, and I asked the first question I thought of, “Where am I?” I tried to get up, but could hardly move my body. “This is Deathknell, you and the other bodies were brought here from Gilneas,” the woman responded. My mind suddenly felt shock at what she had said, and again I asked the first question that came to my lips, “Bodies, as in, corpses?” My jaw felt unnervingly stiff as I tried to speak. “Yes, the deaths were many in Gilneas when the Worgen attacked, but Lady Sylvanas used the attack to our advantage. She sent us Val’kyr to collect what dead we could after the attack.” Val’kyr, Worgen, my mind slowly processed this new information. When I finally had my memory sorted, I realized that I had died, but was raised by the Forsaken to serve in undeath. Panic struck, all I could rap my mind around was that I should be dead. Looking down upon my hands, I did not recognize the sight I beheld. They were chewed to the bone by what I assumed were wolf fangs. The flesh had turned a sickly shade of pink. I felt my face, only to feel cold metal where my lower jaw should have been. The shock froze me. Only one thought presented itself in my mind. “Brinnea, where is she?” The Val’kyr answered, “I do not know this Brinnea. If she was brought here, she is likely gone. You were among the last brought from the graveyards. You should speak to Undertaker Mordo over there. He will give you something to do while you figure out how to spend your brand new life.” She drifted towards a pile of rotted corpses to my right, leaving me in my patch of grass in the middle of the old cemetery. Looking around, I saw zombies missing body parts all over the place. Gazing toward the mausoleum, I saw a couple of undead talking to each other. Only at this point did I realize the words we spoke weren’t normal. They didn’t sound the way I had remembered them, as if they were in a foreign, gutteral language. I lifted my body off the ground and wobbled onto my bare, bony feet. I took a step, and then another. After I gained my footing, I approached the undertaker. “Another one. You are…?” the undead man asked. “Parigan,” I mumbled back to him. “Yes, you are now a Forsaken, and must do what is necessary to serve the Banshee Queen, Lady Sylvanas. Do you accept your new role?” I didn’t answer, I couldn’t. The situation was too much for me to handle. “While you regain your tongue, head down into the mausoleum and grab some stitching supplies. Not all of these recruits have as many parts left as you.” The Undertaker pointed me to the building behind him. I descended the stairway into the small room below, and found the supplies. I brought them back up to Mordo. “Thank you, now what do you say to my previous…” “I only want to find Brinnea, my love,” I cut him off midsentence; “I don’t care for your Forsaken, your queen, or you. I only want her, how can I find Brinnea?” “Calm down,” Mordo replied coolly, “Can you tell me what she looks like?” “Young woman with red hair and pale skin. Possibly…had a child with her.” “No children are ever brought here, and I could tell you of several who look like this Brinnea of yours. I never forget a face.” We worked out a deal. I would serve the Forsaken, and the Forsaken would locate Brinnea for me. My every thought was focused on saving her from this fate. I set out from Deathknell to do work for the Forsaken. I would face many perils and near death experiences, but my fear had died along with my emotions. Only one emotion remained: rage, unfocused and dangerous.
  18. ((An old post and the start of a re-telling of Parigan's history. This was my first rp toon, and the stories that follow are some of my first as a roleplayer. They are graphic, and depict scenes of violence, gore, death, and morbid imagery.)) I wasn't born to rule kingdoms or fight for what I think is right. I was born an ordinary citizen in an extraordinary world. Gilneas was once my home, but no more. My name is Parigan Blackmane. In death I have seen the world outside the walls. I have seen things I had heard of in stories and imagined only in nightmares. I have watched the world burn, and my only instinct is to feed the flames. For twenty years I lived as a citizen of Gilneas, an odd duck in a family of politicians and royal guards. I lived to become a builder, a craftsman, and a miner, always unordinary. Yet somehow, I was lucky enough to meet a woman who loved me, someone who cared for me. Brinnea. The name makes me tremble for an unknown reason, was love so important? I can't remember. I was a paranoid man, always worrying for whatever reason. So when I heard about an imminent attack from the Scourge, I wanted to be prepared. I joined the city guard so I could steal supplies for my home, to protect my wife. She had become pregnant, and the shock of a child was mixed with the paranoia of an undead attack; I had never fully accepted that I was to be a father. I never wanted my life to change -- the idea of change frightened me -- but the day came when the city was attacked. The undead swarmed the streets; my job was to guard the gates for civilians to escape, but I had to get Brinnea out. She was defenseless. I took Brinnea, a horse, supplies, and rode as fast as possible away from the city. The undead raiders scattered the group of refugees I had joined, forcing us to take refuge in the forest. On the way to a rally point for evacuation, Brinnea forced us to stop. She was going into labor. For hours we waited for what should have been the happiest moment of our lives, until finally, she was born: our daughter, Charlotte. Brinnea rested with the child while I forced myself to ignore my fatigue. I heard a noise from the trees and went to investigate, sword in hand. I stepped softly out of the clearing, into the trees, when a geist jumped out at me from the side. I fell over with no idea if I was hurt or how bad, but I managed to regain my balance. As I sprang up, the undead charged me recklessly, skewering itself on my blade. I forced myself up, realizing I had been slashed along my left hamstring. My leg was covered in blood, so I limped back to the clearing to patch it up. I heard panicked screaming before I saw mother and child huddled against a tree. I approached them to try calming the child, when suddenly I lost my breath and was forced to the ground. I grabbed at my throat, finding a throwing dagger stuck deep into my chest, the blood from the wound slowly trickling into my clothes. I looked up and saw the terror in Brinnea’s eyes. She struggled to stand on wobbly legs, still weak from childbirth, and dangerously low on blood. As I hacked up blood, I picked myself off the ground and held my blade at the ready. A pair of glowing blue eyes pierced the shadows in the foliage behind Brin and Charlotte. Then a pair of yellow eyes, and another. A man entered the clearing, a massive black hammer in one hand and a metal stake in the other. His skin was black as night, his head bald but for a full brown beard. His eyes were without pity or remorse, and regarded me coldly as if I were a piece of meat he had to cut up for a meal. Ghouls flanked him, left and right, a slobbering, cannibalistic honor guard in the wake of the unholy warrior of death they served. Brinnea shakily wandered away from the man as his ghouls began to pursue her. Rage billowed in the forge of my heart. I burst forward with all my strength, ignoring the pain in my chest. My blade danced forward, piercing the flesh and bone of the ghouls’ heads. They fell to the forest floor. I turned to Brin and managed between ragged wet coughs to say, “Run…take Charlotte…and run!” She paused for a moment, tears welling up in her eyes, but she knew she had no choice. She turned away and fled. I faced the death knight once more, who had yet to raise his weapons or even move towards me. More undead emerged from the forest behind him. Nerubians of the frozen north, gargoyles, ghouls, and skeletal soldiers, all with the same hungry look in their eyes. All facing me. It felt like hours before he stopped sending his minions at me. A few had managed to add further injuries to my body, but I was still breathing, and mad as hell. I saw an opening and decided to finish things quickly. I rushed the death knight himself, my blade moving fast as a bullet. His was faster. The clang of steel on saronite sounded like a death knell. My blade shattered to pieces; shrapnel flew through my chainmail, piercing my flesh. Then with his left hand he impaled me through the heart with his stake. My vision was fading quickly, and the realization hit me just as I began to lose consciousness that I was going to die. I fell on my back, the blade still in my heart. The night sky grew dim, but I saw a silhouette against the full moon. A gargoyle carrying a slim figure, higher and higher, until finally it let go. The last thing I saw as my heart’s blood tricked free from my chest was the love of my life and our newborn child fall from the sky. That, and the death knight’s emotionless face as he watched me die at his feet.
  19. Oh, plaguelands are a cool place to have a bout! I'm interested to see how we got there, though.
  20. I'd be happy to get involved in this either on Alliance or Horde side! The whole thing about the time skip gives me a headache, so until now I've just been ignoring it. The timeline for Warcraft has always been pretty dumb imo.
  21. The Order of the Black Dawn (IC) The Order has existed for an unknown length of time, working from the shadows and limited by no borders or factions to secure a common goal, the domination of Azeroth and those that call it home. Its members run deep within both the Alliance and the Horde. From Blood Elf magisters to Human nobles, the siren call of limitless power has drawn countless. Even now, the acolytes of Dawn seek to restore their numbers and ride forth to make their dream a reality. Since the death of the last Grandmaster during the horrifying events of the Eclipse, divisions within the Order divided its members, who struggled to stay alive amidst a civil war for the power left behind by their fallen master. Now, a new Grandmaster has arisen from amongst its members. The time for waiting has ended. He calls to all those that share his ambition, Horde or Alliance, to come forth and join in the dawning of a new Order. (OOC) The Order of the Black Dawn is a lawful evil RP guild that I and another are trying to get off the ground as an official guild. The Order has been around in Ravenholdt RP for some time now, just never as an actual guild. The idea to finally take this step really came out of the end of the Eclipse story arc, but have never had the time. Currently looking to get a few more charter signatures so that we can get things off the started. So far we have a few plans in motion that should help define the guild’s goals and methods, ranging from interactions with some of the many other guilds on Ravenholdt/Twisting Nether, as well as events focusing on rebuilding the Order and (hopefully) moving closer to its ultimate goal. The Order has primarily worked from the shadows and only on rare occasions has it found it necessary to present itself in full force. While rebuilding its numbers and getting things situated The Order will act in a similar regard. We will interact with the community through subterfuge among other tools. Though, I imagine once we have enough people and are ready, we might step out of the shadows and act openly. Addressing the cross-faction aspect. Since guilds obviously can’t have members from both factions, I am working to devise a way to include any from the Horde who would wish to be a member of the Order. For now, if you are Horde and are interested, feel free to shoot me a message and I am sure we can work something out.If anyone has any questions about the guild itself or would simply like more of the history of the Order, feel free to let me know and I will happily get back to you.
  22. Brinnea flew over a land of plague and decay on the back of her onyx wind serpent. The reddish, pestilent land of eastern Lordaeron gave way to the grey, dead land of the Ghostlands. Further north, the glimmering gem of Eversong sat waiting. The General’s words echoed in her mind, “Silvermoon, Brinnea. Silvermoon. We've made contact with the Outriders and Kiraleen apparently said she will contact the Regent Lord. But we are under a supposed truce, and if you go storming in there by yourself there's no telling what the hell you'll do to those sorts of relations.” Something in her told Brinnea that Skylah didn’t have time for her to wait for the “right time to move.” She could just keep on going northward, steal her way into the city… She quelled those thoughts. Silvermoon was too big a place to find where the Grim had taken Skylah. Even if she did know where she was, Brinnea would still do more harm than good attacking by herself. She motioned for her steed to descend. She slipped out of the saddle and proceeded on foot. The serpent took off, but she knew he would stay close. He always did. She wandered the wasteland for a time, keeping to the ever-growing shadows. There was little movement on the landscape. The occasional saber cat or vampire bat would make an appearance only to flee her presence. She was more on the lookout for patrols than beasts. After wandering for some time, she came across a chilling sight. Deatholme. From here, the Scourge launched an assault on the elf lands, one that left the land scarred to this day. Brinnea decided to take shelter there. Not very likely someone would come here looking for threats these days. The entrance to the old base was cracked wide open, like a gaping maw of some long-dead predator. Nothing moved here, either. Nothing alive, anyway. The shades seemed to rule this land now. They ignored her as she went about her business establishing her own camp, tucked in a small crevice between two small hills. The ground was stained with green liquids: plague that had seeped into the ground itself and never dissipated. It would not harm her in this form, but it was a somber sight to see. Her campsite was a simple ring of runestones of various color and design. Each served a unique function that would help her know if someone were to find her hiding place. Their magic had its limits, so she would be sure to utilize the local shades if she needed souls. She sat in her ring and began to meditate. She did not know how long she would have to wait before it was time to strike, but what she had in abundance was time, and patience.