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In a dark room, three figures swayed back and forth around a shrouded alter whispering ancient words of power. In concert, runes of power began to glow ominously and pulse to the dark rhythm of the three men standing amidst the rune. As the chanting began to grow in crescendo, one of the men ripped of the shroud revealing a young woman tightly bound to the grotesque structure.
As the shroud hit the floor, a small portilus opened in the ceiling, allowing for a small box to be lowered on chains directly over the defenseless female. When the box ceased its decent, the three robed men began channeling the power from the vibrant runes, outwards to the box. Greedily, the artifact gorged itself on the runes of power, draining them utterly. With its source of power gone, the box began to draw of the essence of the men themselves. However they were prepared for this.
The room seemed to darken as the magi spoke in their evil language. “Mor’liqua Te’serdo Pri’mortada!” The dark acolytes shouted in unison. At the command of the men, the artifact opened. The woman arched her back, jaw locked open in a wordless scream.
The moment seemed to stretch on forever, however the horrendous act lasted just a few seconds. By the time the woman sank back to the alter she was dead, her soul trapped in the dark artifact. In the wake of the ritual all that could be heard were the ragged breaths of the dark men, and a strange thrumming that emitted from the artifact, which now glowed the same sickly green of the runes.
As the artifact began its assent into the ceiling, a deep booming voice echoed through the minds of the acolytes, “You have done well my servants, the hour of darkness is nigh at hand. No longer must we hide is the shadows striking those who are alone, very soon we will have the power to cover Azeroth in eternal darkness. Soon he will be unleashed upon this unsuspecting world, and we shall become rulers of men! The devourer shall be unleashed!”
As the voice left the men, one spoke in a sinister voice, “Let us unleash the riders! The artifact demands sacrifice, and the town of dark shire shall sate its hunger!”
Jeramayan Winterfel shielded his eyes against the heavy snow as he led lily his stoic companion out of the barn to graze. One by one, he let each of the other animals out of their pens to graze. They seemed to stare at him impatiently as he scattered the hay across the snow, obviously not liking the harsh weather. Chuckling slightly to himself he stroked lily’s mane. “I don’t like this strange weather either,” he thought to himself, “I would much rather be enjoying the cool autumn nights with my family.”
The thoughts of what the weather should have been this time of year got Jeramayan brooding. The snow rarely falls hard in fall, and never this early in the year. Some called that witch craft was at work, but most scoffed at such ideas. Surely a winter such as this was bound to happen sometime… wasn’t it? A surprisingly strong gust of cold wind/snow brought Jeramayan back to reality. As the animals were about to finish their evening meal, they started acting strangely. Some began milling around restlessly while other began to mewl in a frightened manner. Before Jeramayan could figure out what was going on, a howl echoed across the wind.
Drawing his sword Jeramayan began to try and herd the live stalk back into the barn, but it was too late. In an instant, the single howl became many, and the first wolf appeared on the snow bank. Abandoning his futile attempt to herd his charges home, Jeramayan spun too face his foe. Before him stood a dire wolf, stronger quicker and more fierce then there smaller grey cousins that usually prowl the forest of Elwyn. The two stared at each other, seemingly locked in a battle of wills, before either moved however, one of Jeramayan’s live stalk bottled towards the woods.
Before it could reach the safety of the trees, three wolves descended upon it as torn the poor beast to shreds. At the beast last cry was silenced by the wolves powerful jaws, Jeramayan utter a fierce war cry and charged the pack leader. As he trudged through the heavy snow, Jeramayan could almost swear he saw the wolf grin, before it too let out a howl and charged. At the last possible moment, Jeramayan sidestepped the great beast and ran his sword across its broad back.
Turning to face the beast, the veteran warrior saw a trail of blood following the dire wolf. It previously white fur was matted with dark red blood. Sensing its weakness, Jeramayan loosed another howl and charged again. As he approached the beast, Jeramayan reached back with hi strike attempting to cleave the animal where it stood. To his chagrin, the blow hit only air. Losing his balance, Jeramayan fell hard on his back nearly knocking the wind from his lungs.
Seeing the opportunity, The Dire Wolf leaped upon the fallen warrior locking its deadly jaws firmly around Jeramayan’s sword arm. At the powerful beast clamped down, Jeramayan’s mind went frantic trying to devise an escape plan. As the vice like jaws closed tighter around his forearm, Jeramayan reached for his dagger with his off hand. As he fumbled for the sharp blade, the prone warrior let out a howl of pain as he felt his wrist bones beginning to crack. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Jeramayan clamped his hand around the blade and plunged it through the mighty beast’s throat.
Immediately the Wolf recoiled and let out a mighty death howl. Springing to his feet, Jeramayan ran towards the barn and grabbed himself a torch and a lantern. Smashing the bronze contraption on the ice, Jeramayan lit his brand and charged at the remaining wolves. With their pack master gone, their courage seemed to leave as they ran from the fire wielding warrior.
It took about no less than three hours to coral the remnants of his herd. He managed to save all but two who fell to the fleeing wolves. After his work was done, Jeramayan gingerly mounted lily and began to head back towards his house. He was dying to see his family after this ordeal. What should have taken a few hours, turned into an ordeal that encompassed most of the light bearing hours. However, home would offer him no sanctuary on this night.
The grizzled warrior immediately knew something was wrong as he approached his house. Windows which should be glowing with soft firelight were black, and the door that was always closed to the snow, swung back and forth on its hinges. Fear for his family sent Jeramayan into overdrive. Leaping from his horse, the warrior covered the last 30 yards in moments.
As he burst through the door, and gazed upon the damage, Jeramayan nearly collapsed. The usually cozy living room, was ransacked. Tables and chairs were scattered about the room as if a dust devil has been spawned in the center for the room. Room by room he scoured the house looking for his family. Upon finding the last room empty Jeramayan let out a wail that would make even the coldest killer cringe. Quickly he raced from the house and scanned the snow, for any sign of his family captors.
The task was all but futile as the heavy snowfall would have seemed to cover all tracks, however, as he made his way deeper into the forest, he found what he was looking for. Under thick pine trees, Jeramayan discovered the tracks of rider. The deep indentations in the hard earth told him that whoever it was no trader, but someone in full plate mail. Judging the size and direction, Jeramayan’s heart sank. The path could lead only one place, Dusk wood.
Knowing he must pursue as fast as possible if there was any hope of him finding his family again, Jeramayan hastily gathered supplies and coin and shot off towards Dusk wood like a bolt of lightning, woe be to any who dared stop him, and to whomever took his family.
5 hours later
As he approached the township of Darkshire Jeramayan slowed his steed to a slow trot. Upon entering the town, he was immediately waylaid by members of the night watch. “Halt in the name of the light outsider!” The first guard barked. “Why do you come so late at night. Speak and speak quickly!” cried the second Guard. In one swift motion Jeramayan through off his heavy cloak, revealing his faded tabard of lordaeron over his thick mail armor. With a growl Jeramayan retorted, “I am looking for my family who has been takin, the tracks led towards dusk wood. They were made by heavy riders, probably in plate mail.”
With a shudder the trio of guards looked at each other. The last guard who had yet to speak stepped forwards. On his chest bore a symbol of command for years in service to the watch. In a deep and somber voice, the man spoke quietly, “There have been whispers of dark riders roaming the forests for some months now. No one who has sent out to find them has returned with any news, if at all.” After brief pause, the older man continued, “ I am sorry for my comrades sharp tongue, people, just like your family have been going missing more and more often. Some pray that its just the heavy weather, but we know better. Darkness has come to dusk wood again, and I fear we are powerless to stop it. I will pray for your family warrior, if you are looking for assistance of any kind, I would try the inn. May the light guide you.”
Returning to their post, the guardsmen left Jeramayan to his own devices. Making his way towards the inn, Jeramayan stabled Lily up for the night and entered the common room. As he entered, all eyes quickly turned in his direction. The Inn was crowded with the beleaguered citizenry of dusk wood. Some undoubtedly sought safety in numbers, others searched for family, however, Jeramayan knew by just a glance that these people would be little help to him.
Battered and weary, Jeramayan pulled a chair up next to the fire place. Facing it towards the door, Jeramayan tried to make himself comfortable and grab some sleep. He knew at the onset it would be a futile task, but he had to try. He would be no use to his family if he didn’t have all his faculties. Closing his eyes, Jeramayan spent the rest of the waning night going in and out of nightmare.
There was a scream, and Laviette’s head shot up suddenly. She was too hardened a hero by now for her blood to run cold by the sound, however the citizens of Stormwind were horribly affected by the sound.
”I suppose we won’t be heading to Northrend after all.” Althmyst commented.
Laviette glanced at her companion curiously for a moment; they had been headed to Dragonblight, the Wyrmrest Temple to be exact. Despite having left to travel the world with Laviette, Althmyst was still a member of the red dragonflight, and as such she was required to return home on occasion. Plus, a visit to the Temple was never without its joys; red dragons tended to make good company, even if their great size sometimes made Laviette feel small and insignificant in comparison.
”If someone needs our help, it would most certainly be more important than going home at the moment. The Temple will still be standing when we are finished.” The red haired human reasoned.
Though dragons were no longer unheard of, and they were –mostly- no longer feared, Althmyst and Laviette still thought it best that the red –almost- dragon remain in her disguise. They weren’t fugitives or anything of that sort, however sometimes it was best to refrain from drawing attention to oneself.
Pulling back on the reins, Althmyst and Laviette urged their steeds back through the overpass that divided the Trading District from the canals. They entered the scene at a swift gallop. A man stood trembling, the focus of all eyes in the square.
“Please! You have to help us!” He pleaded to the cloth-clad citizens. No one stepped forward, but everyone ogled at him. He was covered in blood. “My family...” The words were a heart-wrenching sob, and mothers pulled their children in close. “They’re gone...” If he was going to say anything else, it was cut off by his horrible wailing. Laviette flung herself from the saddle and approached the man. Gently laying her hands on him, she healed the deep wounds that racked up his arms.
”Tell me what happened.”
“They...” His words were cut off by a guttural snarl, and his body hunched suddenly. “Duskwood...” The growl was constant now, a deep rumbling in the man’s chest. Laviette’s hairs stood on end, a sense of unkind familiarity taking over her. The man cried out.
”Get back! Everyone get back!” She urged the citizens to their houses. Some complied, however others allowed their curiosity to get the better of them, not entirely understanding the urgency of the situation. ”I need rope!” Someone tossed her a bundle, and she pulled the tough rope from the bag. By now the man was withering on the ground, and his face was beginning to elongate. While she hadn’t been present for the outbreak in Gilneas, she had heard enough stories to know just what was happening. He was changing into a worgen, and unless he got the antidote, he would only turn into another savage beast.
Althmyst, having at some point dismounted, charged over, just as the worgen pushed itself to its feet and let out a blood-curdling howl. Now everyone in the square seemed to realize the severity of the situation. People screamed and ran as feral golden eyes fell on them. Damn, how Laviette hated citizens sometimes. Useless, and always getting in the way without helping. The beast fell with a sound crack to its skull as Althmyst hit it with the hilt of her sword; it fell to the ground, and Laviette wasted no time in tying him up.
”He’d mentioned Duskwood.”
Laviette nodded at Althmyst’s words. ”Duskwood it is, then.”
They had left the bound worgen at the cathedral, knowing that there, no one would hurt him until an antidote could be brought over from Darnassus –strangely the only place the non-feral worgen seemed to keep it now. A Priestess of the Moon had also been heading over from the Mage District, and hopefully she would be able to help the worgen man retain his ability to return to humanity.
Althmyst and Laviette had been travelling at nothing short of a break-neck pace, towards the only town really worth going to in Darkwood; Darkshire. The town was coming into focus when they heard a shout, and simultaneously they reared their horses.
“What is your business here?” A guard demanded. He sounded more frightened than angry, and the pair –the human and the night elf- spared a glance to each other.
”We were in Stormwind when a man ran into the Trading District, screaming. Shortly thereafter, he turned into a worgen; but not before mentioning Darkwood. It had been my understanding that worgen haven’t been in Darkwood since the Cataclysm. Why have they returned?” Althmyst demanded, fixing the guard with a hard stare, and even though her eyes were covered with shades, she noticed he still shivered from the intensity.
“We- We don’t know. People have been going missing, and the people who have searched for them have never been heard from again.”
”Why wasn’t Stormwind informed of this?”
“We’ve sent missives to Stormwind. Clearly those have been intercepted.” A second guard snapped.
All four present fell into silence at the howl in the distance. Laviette pulled her heavy cloak tighter around her; Althmyst appeared otherwise unphased by the snowy weather.
“If you’ve come to help, I know there are many who have more immediate situations in the inn.”
”Thank you for your hospitality.” There was a degree of sarcasm in Laviette’s voice as she urged her steed passed the guards and towards the stables of the inn.
”Don’t get too settled in, we’re not likely staying for long.” Althmyst warned.
”The horses need to rest.” Lav pointed out; even still, Althmyst was unaccustomed to the “lack of stamina the beasts had”, as she put it. Lav supposed in comparison to a dragon, yes, they would be lacking stamina and power, but that was hardly their fault.
The dragon said nothing, merely climbed off her steed and allowed her companion to tend to them while she waited impatiently outside of the stables. ”They’re practically useless, and they stink.” The redhead muttered when her night elf friend rejoined her, and the two headed to the inn.
There was only a soft murmur of voices when the two entered. It was strange to see a tavern so subdued and forlorn. A few patrons glanced at the pair, however others continued to look for family members, and some simply kept their heads down and remained silent. Laviette could see tears on a few peoples’ cheeks, and they sniffled and turned their heads whenever they caught her glance.
”There, look.” Laviette pointed to an armour-clad patron; the only one wearing anything other than clothes. She wondered what a warrior was doing here, but then again, she supposed the same thing the pair of them were.
Approaching the man, Laviette sat across from him in the empty seat, and Althmyst remained standing, watching the other patrons and the door. ”What brings a warrior to Darkshire?” The night elf questioned, folding her hands in front of her. She said nothing else; nothing about the man who had turned in Stormwind, and certainly nothing of the suspicious guards who had met them at the edge of town.
Edited by Laviette on 9/5/2012 8:53 AM PDT
For the tenth time, since he first settled into the inn in Dark Shire, Jeramayan found himself staring at the ceiling, and not his eyelids. What little sleep he did manage to get were restless and fraught with nightmares. As he glanced out the window, only a faint light of predawn was able to filter through the heavy, ominous cloud cover. Though no snow fell, the clouds stayed dark. To Jeramayan it looked like the calm before the storm.
With a heavy sigh, Jeramayan stood from his seat and pulled his cloak tightly around himself. Scanning the down stairs of the inn, Jeramayan decided to begin his search. Over the course of the next hour, the armored warrior made his way through the huddled masses listening to their stories and asking questions of his own. After finishing his rounds, he went to the inn keeper and ordered himself some breakfast. When his food was ready, a young woman took his coin with a forced smile and went about her business cleaning.
Upon returning to his seat, Jeramayan pondered the responses that the townsfolk had given him. They were all eerily similar. The disappearance’s started close to two months ago, when the worst of the snow began to fall. At people lost communication with those who lived on the fringes of town, at the time, people attributed the lack of communication to the horrendous weather, but as more and more people went silent, people finally were sent to investigate.
Those who returned, found houses that were ransacked, there occupants missing. Many claimed to see dark figures moving through the snow, on the edge of their vision, but when they tried to confront them, all they found were heavy horse prints in the hard earth, prints that were quickly covered by the unrelenting storm. Each time he heard the story he felt his heart break a little more each time, because the same to had happened his family.
Family member offered rewards to mercenaries that passed through the township to find their loved ones. At first, these offers were quickly accepted by would be adventures hoping to make some quick coin, but as fewer and fewer “hero’s” returned with their quarry, the pool of people willing to help diminished rapidly. The task fell then to a depleted Nights Watch, who could barely protect the township proper much less, the outlying farm steads.
Taking a large bite out of his worg haunch, Jeramayan began to think of his options. A skilled warrior though he was, he could not go out alone. Others had tried and failed, most never returning. This was something he could not allow to happen, for then his family’s only hope for rescue would die with him. As he chewed on the tough meat, he formulated a plan. He would wait for no more than a day, and then he would conscript as many as he could to search for the missing.
For the first time in the last 24 hours, a glimmer of hope filled the warriors mind. Devouring the rest of his meal, Jeramayan retired to the wash room in order to take a shower, and wash up. As he took his armor off, piece by piece he examined his body for any serious injury. Gingerly he probed his forearm, where the massive beast had attacked. Though swollen, and tender to the touch, Jeramayan knew that it was not broken. Gazing over the rest of his body, he found no new injuries, just the scars of war.
Each scar had a memory, some of glory, the rest of sorrow and loss. For a man in his 30’s Jeramayan had seen too many friends die, too many innocents suffer. All his life he had fought to protect his wife and child, too fight on distant shores, so that they could be spared the horrors of war. And now, they were gone. As the morbid thoughts began to overwhelm him, Jeramayan thrust himself into the cold water and methodically scrubbed the grim and dried wolf blood from his body. As he purified his body, he hardened his heart, and his resolve. “I will not fail my family,” Jeramayan hissed through clenched teeth, I will do what I have to save them, and nothing will stand in my way.” As if in response, A forlorn howl echoed through the predawn hours of Duskwood.
His task done, Jeramayan dressed himself in a loin cloth and scrubbed his armor as methodically as he had his body. Once the worn armor gleaned, he dawned it pulling his heavy cloak tight around himself. Making his way down stairs Jeramayan, sat down again in his chair. Scanning the crowd, he saw a few more faces, however none were fighters. Each one looked defeated. They would be no help to him. The minutes felt like an eternity as he stared imploringly at the door, hoping that it would discourage something, anything that would help him on his journey. Almost as if the light were listening, in strode two who were like himself, unbroken.
As the two stepped into the Inn, he examined them as they scanned the crowd. Why they were here, he couldn’t guess, but Jeramayan would be damned to spurn a gift from the light! The taller of the two, carried herself with an air of authority. Tall by human standards, the woman must have stood about 6’ tall. Strong in posture, and with good muscle tone, Jeramayan knew that she was a fighter, possibly a druid, due to the earthen colored armor she bore. By the time his eyes had passed onto her partner, the pair began to move towards him.
The elf’s companion, a human whom was some 4 inches shorter than she, but no less impressive then her companion. Her size belied the strength that she undoubtedly carried with her, however a warrior can always tell a warrior, and if Jeramayan had to throw down a bet, he would have said a damn good one. Faint scars, adorned her skin that was not covered by her red chain mail, which matched her fiery hair which was tied in a loose pony tail. However none of these seemed to draw the veteran soldier attention. Her eyes seemed to almost beckon him. Locking eyes with the young woman, he almost felt entranced by them. They seemed too hold so much knowledge and wisdom, however before he could gaze any longer, the elf had dropped into the seat across from him and questioned him.
”What brings a warrior to Dark Shire?”
The simplicity and the down the straightforwardness with which the woman asked the question made Jeramayan pause for but a moment. He was unaccustomed to females speaking with such confidence and authority. Chiding himself Jeramyan thought, “this is no princess or some noble maiden who has lived in shelter all her life, this was a warrior!”
Making sure he kept the fear and uncertainty from his voice, Jeramayan divulged his reasoning for coming. “The Darkness brings me to this once cursed place that I had thought had been cleansed,” Jeramayan sighed. “My family was taken last night from our homestead in Elwyn, while I was out tending to our live stalk. On my return, I discovered my home ransacked and my wife and child taking from me. As I sought after them, I uncovered strange heavy horse prints in the hard earth that led off into the direction of the dark woods.” Jeramayan paused as he realized how his heavy voice had carried throughout the deathly silent room. Jeramayan waited until people turned their attention away from him and resumed their conversations. As the various eyes returned to their tasks, Jeramayan pulled his chair closer, and continued in a much quieter voice. “My question for you is what brings a druid and a warrior, to a back water such as this?”
Darkness, it is a strange thing, able to help or hinder a traveler, depending on their situation, able to be used to ones advantage or, to hide a hungry animal. It was where Sammuroth Stormfury felt at home, but not in this place, not in the unnatural darkness of Duskwood, the woods always felt off everytime the druid entered them. Normally he would just fly over the woods, preferring to avoid them at all costs, but this time the woods were his destination. He had come here after visiting Stormwind, on an official mission from the Cenarion Circle, while there he had heard rumors of strange disappearances, and dark creatures, in and around the dark forest. Not one to leave helpless people in trouble he had set out as soon as his task in Stormwind was completed, and now he regretted it. "Stop being such a coward," the "other" mind inside of the druid mocked, and Sammuroth growled, I am being cautious, who knows what hides in the darkness of these woods. The Voice laughed, "If you are so worried, why not let me be in control," the druid growled again, as he stepped into a small beam of light, to reveal not a person, but a cat. I don't need your help, with this, so why don't you just go away, once again the "other" laughed, "You will wish soon enough you had taken me up on my offer," with those words the prescence faded.
Just in time, as the druid picked up on another prescence, and not a friendly one, had he continued arguing with the "other" he would have completely missed it. As it was he was able to leap to the side just in time to dodge, an attack, turning to face his opponent the cat was surprised to see not a wolf, or any other kind of animal, but a Worgen, a feral worgen at that. I thought the worgen had left Duskwood, he had no time to ponder as the beast lunged at him again, but the druid was experienced in fighting these beasts, and easily ducked the attack. As the worgen flew overhead the cat raked his claws, along the beasts leg, the creature howled in pain, as it's achilles tendon was torn to shreds. When it landed, it collapsed, unable to stand on it's wounded leg, the druid calmly walked over to the beast. "It appears you have completely succumbed to the curse, so the only thing I can do for you is to end you suffering, may Elune guide you into the afterlife." The cat ran his claws across the creature's throat, silencing it forever, it seems darkness has returned to these woods, I should head to Darkshire, and see if I can get any information.
-A few hours later-
As he reached the township of Darkshire Sammuroth stuck to the shadows, so as to bypass The Watch, he didn't have the time to deal with them. Fading into the shadows, becoming invisible to all, but the most seasoned warriors, he crept through the shadows, heading to the inn. He figured that would be the best place to start, as he reached the doorway, he was able to quickly creep through the door as a patron exited. It will be better if I stay hidden, a talking cat may not go over well with these people, he crept through the crowd careful not to bump into anyone. He noticed a warrior speaking to a human and Night Elf, as good a place to start as any I suppose, stucking the shadows he crept closer, finding a secluded corner close enough to allow him to listen in on their conversation.
Edited by Sammuroth on 9/5/2012 11:28 AM PDT
"Do you understand your assignment Azurara?" The Archmage asked. The young night elf looked at him for a moment and nodded. "Yes sir, I need to travel to Darkshire and find the source of the disturbances. If possible, neutralize its source." She said. A small smile over coming her stunning features. The young mage was still an apprentice, but she was no less capable in frost magic. In fact she was exceeding her mentor's expectations. "Very well." The Archmage said giving her a faint smile. "Good luck." With that Azurara turned and left the mage tower. She walked over to another night elf that was leaning against a nearby tree.
"Well?" The older night elf asked.
"I have my assignment." Azurara said with a large grin, her head at an angle.
"Where at?" The older night elf asked. She was in full plate armor with a great sword strapped to her back.
"Darkshire. Aunt Lynara, can we fly there? I'm not trained in portal magic and I know you brought Feathertalon with you." Azurara asked. She adored Feathertalon, the hippogryph was Lynara's loyal companion.
Lynara let a small grin come to her face as she made a bird call with her fingers and mouth. There was as squawk and soon the hippogryph Feathertalon landed in front of Lynara ans Azurara. "Feathertalon we're heading to Darkshire. I hope you are prepares for having two riders. The hippogryph looked at the two of them and nodded before squawking approvingly. Lynara and Azurara climbed onto his saddle and he took off.
Coris was sitting in his chair thinking to himself when his apprentice interupted him. "Um... master" Coris looked up with a thoughtful look on his face. "oh yes what is it?" grumbled Coris. "We are out of spider silk sir 'shall I go buy more in Darkshire?" he said sheepishly. "Sure be sure to equip yourself, it is dangerous out there" said Coris with a worried look on his face. Last time he sent his apprentice to Darkshire he was attacked on the roads by bandits. Thats why Coris issued that he travel with a full set of armor and a sword. "Yes master I'm off now." "bye" grumbled Coris
After a good hour Coris was getting bored being stuck in the house so he went for a little walk around Duskwood. He didn't go to far when he noticed the captain of the guards approaching him. "Ah Cynthia good to see you, how have you been" said Coris with a cheerful tone. "Fine thank you but I have something more important to tell you Coris" said Cynthia with a fearful look on her face, apparentley all the guards had that face nowadays. "Whats wrong Cynthia' said Coris quickly changing his tone. "It's about your appearence" she said.
"And whats wrong with my appearence" he said with a chuckle. "This isn't funny Coris." "Sorry" he said changing his tone again. "The townspeople have all voted and state that; All non-feral Worgen must at all times stay in their human form so as not to be confused with the feral" she stated in an authoritative manner. "Oh come on Cynthia you know as much as everyone who I am" Coris said again a bit irritated. "Coris this is serious we need you to stay in human form for the time being I'm sorry." "It's fine, thank you" he said with a sigh.
---------((1 day later))------------
After some practice Coris was finally able to turn into his human form. 'I hate this body so much' he thought. Before Coris was bitten and was turned into a Worgen he had the body of a weakling. Now that he is back in his body he felt small and insignificant. 'I'm going to have to get new Priest armor this is too big on me' he thought with a growl. For the mean time Coris put on a set of his apprentice's clothes that just barely fit him. "Speaking of apprentices shouldn't he be back by now" Coris said aloud.
Coris had searched all over for his apprentice even asked all of the guards if they have seen him. He searched all over on the roadside to Darkshire and at the apprentices own house, who wasn't there. "Damnit where is he" said Coris growling to himself.
After a failed attempt at searching for his apprentice he decided that he would travel to Darkshire to search for his apprentice.
----------((5 days later))----------------
After getting everything packed including both sets of his priest armor he traveled to Darkshire. "Cynthia I'm going to Darkshire" he said walking past the gate guards. "Alright be careful" she said worried. "Don't worry I wont be long."
----------((3 hours later))--------------
After shortly entering Darkshire he searched the shops to see if he could find his apprentice. "Excuse me" said Coris politely. "yes can I help you" said the shop owner. "Have you seen a man with long auburn hair come to buy something here" He asked. "No sorry, havent seen anyone here with that color" he said. "Thanks" Coris called walking out of the store. He was walking for awhile when he remembered something. 'He could change back now'. Coris had a huge smile on his face after he succsefully transformed back and changed into his set of clothes. But there was another task at hand.
Coris searched aimlessley but he couldn't find his apprentice anywhere. After another failed attempt at searching for him he decided to go to the tavern.
When he entered the tavern he saw on many peoples faces a look of pure terror. Remembering he was in his worgen form said quickly "Don't worry I'm not feral!" After everyone settled down he went to go sit a table away from the Red Lady, her friend, and an odd looking warrior. "Bartender a light wine please" he called out. "Coming up." After sipping his wine he knelt back in his chair and staarted to think some more going into another trance.
Edited by Ihealedyou on 9/9/2012 7:21 AM PDT
After some time Feathertalon finally arrived in Darkshire. Their trip was slowed by the bad weather and the darkness of Dusk wood. “This place feels… unnatural.” Azurara said as she tightened her grip on Lynara. “Yes, it should be getting lighter, but it’s never light in dusk wood.” Lynara said as she directed Feathertalon to the ground. The hippogryph squarked loudly as a few members of the Nightwatch approached them.
“Halt! What businesses do two night elves have in Darkshire at this time?” The guard asked.
“Go on Azurara tell the nice man why we’re here.” Lynara said as the two dismounted the hippogryph.
“Yes I am here on official business from my mentor in Stormwind. We are here to find the source of an arcane disturbance and fix it.” She said proudly.
“That is good and all but Azurara… never tell someone the ENTIRE reason you are here until you know their full intentions.” Lynara remarked with a smirk.
“Yes… sorry.” She said looking down.
“Very well. Some other curious fellows have come into town as well. They seem to be gathering in the Tavern down the street.” The guard said as the two night elves lead Feathertalon towards the stable area. “Be careful. There have been a lot of disappearances and other odd activity of late.” The guard called out. Lynara gave a wave of acknowledge meant and continued bringing Feathertalon to the stables.
After Feathertalon was safely in the stables he two elves walked into the tavern. “Careful Azurara, you never know what kind of unsavory characters inhabit human taverns.” Lynara said as they spotted what seemed like the most likely candidates. There was another night elf, a fiery red headed human, and another human. “Azurara leave the talking to me for now.” Lynara said. Azurara gave a nod and the two of them walked up to the table. “Elune-Adore.” Lynara said. “What brings a fellow Kaldorei to this place?” She asked.
Sammuroth watched as more and more people began arriving, certain ones stood out, firstly the three he had originally decided to eavesdrop on. Secondly was a non-feral worgen, who looked to be a priest, and finally the two newest arrivals, two Night Elves, one looking to be much older than the other. I wonder what they are all doing here, are they here for the same purpose as me, has their loved ones disappeared, or are they here for more nefarious reasons? The druid was always a careful man, or cat as it were, he always wanted to see the good in people, but was not naieve enough to just blindly trust. He would sit back and observe for now, he could make his assumptions on their motives later, for now he just stayed hidden and listened.
coris knowing the cat was there the whole time shouted out, "You don't have to hide were all friends here" ending with a smirk. He had noticed the cat the second he walked in, with the help of his keen sense of smell. He let it go that the cat was hiding at first but then it stayed there for a suspicously lengthy time and he haad to say something or noone would know there is a lurker about tapping into conversations like a stalker
Edited by Ihealedyou on 9/5/2012 8:17 PM PDT
Why is everytime I try to spy someone has to blow my cover, well maybe no one else heard him, the druid wondered if the worgen knew he was there, did the others he was eavesdropping on know too. He would remain hidden for now, at least until there was no point in it anymore, no sense in revealing himself just because one person had caught on to his prescence. Still how did the worgen know he was there, he was stealthed and sitting in the shadows, he looked to be a holy priest, not one of the shadow, that could play with people's minds. There should be know way he knew he was there, perhaps he had smelled him, that is possible, worgen's had a very keen sense of smell, but even if that was the case with so many other people around he should not have been able to distiguish the druid. Hell he should not even have known he was a druid, at best he would have thought it was just a regular cat hiding, the reason didn't matter, he was the only one who had noticed, and as long as no one else had paid attention to him none of the others should be any the wiser to his prescence.
Edited by Sammuroth on 9/5/2012 8:14 PM PDT
Realizing the cat wasn't going to come out of his little hiding spot he let it be for the time being. Just in case he read over his tome on shielding and small heals just in case the cat starts to hurt anybody. Light he hated fighting. Fighting never solved anything in his opinion it was to him a means of getting what they want through brute force. That is why he became a healer. After drinking down his entire glass of wine and ordering one more he slipped into another thinking phase
In a dark stable that reeked of fear and death sat five horsemen. So still were they, that they appeared like chess pieces awaiting their terrible master’s command. The room seemed to darken of its own volition, as a shrouded figure began to move towards the riders. The creature’s robes seemed to writhe across its large frame as it moved forward at a slow gate. As the creature reached a sword strikes distance from the riders, the 5 turned their heads in perfect unison.
Though no mouth could be seen, a deep voice emitted from behind the creature low hood. “Go fourth my minions, sow death and despair through the dark forest. Drive the pathetic worgen before you, let them strike fear into the hearts of the fools who cling to their township. Let them think they can fight against the darkness, let them find hope in combating foes of flesh and blood. In the end, they will feed the Lord, their essences shall feed the devourer whom will usher in the new Darkness!”
Slowly the five drew their weapons and saluted their master, the speech fell upon them as it would pawns on a chest board. Resheathing their weapon’s the tallest of the five let loose a soul rending wail and shot fourth like a bolt of lightning with the other hot on his heels.
For a moment the master stared after his minions as they thundered off into the false dusk. Even though it was only noon, the heavy storm clouds kept all but the faintest of light from trickling through. The subtle spell, that the master had put in place months ago was still holding. Day by day, the spell required ever more energy as the weather patterns fought against the masters will, trying to return to their nnormal path. As he prepared himself to strengthen his spell, the master alowd a malicious grin to spread across his sanguine features, “Soon it will not matter if it is dark or night, none will remain to see it!" Cackled the master as he teleported to his chamber.
His story was similar to others she had heard in her short life of traveling. Rarely were the outcomes of these types of missions favourable; she tried to push statistics from her mind, relying upon pure optimism for this man’s family. Perhaps they are still alive. Her silvery gaze turned towards the window, looking at the darkness that, by now, should’ve been lightening. No matter how trained or experienced she was, she still got a shiver down her spine whenever she was in Duskwood. Perhaps the taint of Karazhan spread further than any of them previously thought; whatever the case, Laviette always felt unsettled in this province. The eternal darkness was as unnatural as this snow, the only difference being the fact that the darkness had always been here, whereas the snow... the snow is new. She wondered how Dun Morogh was doing; perhaps they were having more blizzards than normal?
”My question for you is what brings a druid and a warrior to a backwater like this?” The question earned a glance from Althmyst, who had been listening the entire time, but kept her eyes towards the door. She stared down at him for a moment, her eyes shining brightly behind the shades that covered them; she knew the shades only diminished the distinctive appearance of her eyes, but even that small degree was influential.
”We had been in Stormwind,” Laviette began tentatively. It was the first time she really showed any semblance of emotion as her eyes twitched and the corners of her mouth pushed down slightly. Clearly the thought disturbed her heavily. She felt a semblance of guilt over the events in the square, for it had been her kind who had released the virus- even if unintentionally. ”When a man came running in, screaming. He was covered in blood and, before the very eyes of the citizens, changed into a worgen.” She released a heavy breath. ”Before the change was complete, he had mentioned Duskwood.” There was a moment’s pause, she seemed lost in her memories. ”I have taken a vow to protect life wherever a cause for protection is due.” Turning her eyes back to his, her gaze bore into him, almost as though piercing into his soul.
To the child-races, she must have seemed other-worldy and so incredibly knowledgeable. She wasn’t about to admit to them that she, herself, was considered a child by her peoples’ standards.
A flicker of a candle momentarily rendered a shadow in the corner, though Laviette ignored it, keeping her eyes instead upon the human in front of her. The gaze wasn’t broken until a worgen suddenly burst open the door, earning himself a number of hostile looks and murmurs from the citizens gathered. Fear became a heady scent in the room, making the night elf’s head spin with it; she noted a man pulling a rusty skinning knife from his pocket, glaring daggers at the worgen with red-rimmed eyes.
”Don’t worry! I’m not feral!” It did little to settle the citizens, although she noticed the man returned the knife to his pouch, clearly unwilling to start something in such a crowded place where so many peoples’ minds were unhinged as it were.
With her attention on the worgen, she didn’t notice when two of her kind slipped up behind her. ”Elune-adore. ... What brings a fellow Kaldorei to this place?” The elder one asked. Laviette stood, both in surprise and greeting.
”Ishnu-ala.” She replied, sparing a glance at the younger elf in their company. ”It appears as though there have been complications in Duskwood with worgen. Again.” Her speech slipped comfortably into Darnassian out of habit; she likely sounded as though she were speaking gibberish to the other patrons, the act of which was earning her a few glances from the human citizens around them. Glancing out of the corner of her eye at a young child who was staring wide-eyed and inquisitively at her, she reverted back to Common. ”I have just learned that there have also been disappearances. Whether this is the cause of the worgen, or not, has yet to be seen.”
”Perhaps if our interests are similar, we can all work together.” Althmyst finally spoke up. Her voice was smooth and clearly educated, yet it trailed into a strange and almost untraceable accent. She moved fluidly, with the economic precision of a trained warrior, placing her hand on the hilt of her sword out of habit as she pivoted to regard all of the armour-clad patrons present. ”After all, there is safety in numbers, is there not?”
Edited by Laviette on 9/6/2012 10:33 AM PDT
"Worgen..." she muttered. "Feral worgen I take it." Lynara added as she looked over and saw the worgen in robes. "Wouldn't it be much simpler for him to be in his human form?" She thought to herself.
"I have just learned that there have also been disappearances. Whether this is the cause of the worgen, or not, has yet to be seen.”
This caught Lynara's interest. She glanced over to Azurara who was staring at a corner squinting as it trying to see something. "Azurara tell them why we are here." she said bumping the younger elf with her elbow.
"Oh yes, right. My mentor sent me here to find an arcane desturbance and neutralize it. My Aunt is here to keep me as safe as possible." She said with a wide smile. She glanced at the corner again before focusing back on the others.
"Perhaps we can work together." Lynara said. "It is possible that the two may be connected."
Edited by Lynara on 9/6/2012 4:10 PM PDT
Listening to the conversation at the table next to him he decided to finally say something. " If you need help I am an expert healer and would be willing to help just as long as you help me find a missing friend" he said grumbling. He didn't want to seek help from strangers but it was the best thing he could do considering they were the only ones that didn't try to kill him when he walked in. He looked back to the man who brought out the rusty dagger when he walked in and noticed that the man was still eyeing him it seemed pretty creepy with the red ring around his eyes. He turned back around and noticed others were eyeing him uncomfotably and Coris felt out of his place. 'Dang people get a grip, I said I wasn't feral' he thought snarling. After that he didn't care what other people thought anymore and just sat back in his chair.
Edited by Ihealedyou on 9/6/2012 3:41 PM PDT
Sammuroth's mind was moving quickly, missing people, the worgen returning, dark things roaming the woods, sounds like how it was a few years ago. The druid had been in the woods once before while traveling to Stranglethorn Vale, this had been before the Dark Portal had reopened, and the feeling he got from the place was the same as back then. He later found out, the darkness had been seeping from Karazhan, but that place should have been cleansed of all darkness. Who is behind all of this, what is their purpose, to turn people into worgen, no that wouldn't make sense feral worgen are impossible to control. So what could the purpose of all of this be, the druid decided to get more comfortable, as he thought, so he lay down. It seems these people are all here for basically the same reason, to find out what is going on, and I assume to find the missing people. The druid could still not be positive about these people's true intentions, the human warrior intrigued him the most, he couldn't quite put his paw on it, but something was different about her. [i] There is always a chance one of these people is involved in the disappearances, and so far none of them have seemed to notice me fully, so I will continue to watch for now.
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