Emerald Dream

Feb 16, 2016 Tfw you get ddos'd over a tabard on the BMAH, and you were only putting up one bid and letting it go the second someone else bid. dude wanted the tabard lmaoPhen2 Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 @Necroplzz from disappointed like dad Had fun camping your monk alt while it was botting, hope to disrupt you more soon once you log back on :).Malus14 Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 Pandaren Hunter lf RP guild - guild found Edit - guild found Hey all, I'm Beastmaster Rosepaw. I'm a friendly, bubbly Pandaren Hunter. I love animals and I'm a little bit of a prankster. :3 I've been playing and raiding since WOTLK but I'm rather new to rp and I'm looking for a friendly, active rp guild on ED Alliance that's a little forgiving while I learn. My btag is Saxon#1117, feel free to add me to have a chat. ^_^Rosepaw2 Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 [RP] Sharp's Really Fast Day on Coffee ((Sorry this was late for RP day! I hope you all enjoy, I had a bit of fun with this one.)) Routine was something that Nathaniel Sharp didn’t necessarily like. It was an important aspect of his life since he was a young teenager, and the duties that his daily routine was composed of demanded more precision, more speed, and more patience as he grew older. Things were far more simple -- and to him, more interesting -- back home, and required less brainpower. Nocking an arrow while hunting for breakfast was far and away more fun than say, confirming an itinerary for a shipment of fresh food, or signing off on documents stating that a soldier did indeed come across absolutely nothing in the eight hours he was walking in a large circle, trying to look as if he or she didn’t hate their life. Such a straight-and-narrow life demanded the Lieutenant’s interest when there was sometimes none of it, and thus… Caffeine became his silent hero and addiction. To Nathaniel, coffee had been a recent habit, only a few years old. Coffee was black, bitter, and he had to squint and swish it around in order to think, “Actually, this does taste like something!” He eventually admired the aroma, the subtleties, and the abundance of coffee. But today was a different day for Lieutenant Sharp. It was a different, dreadful day for everyone stationed in Lakeshire. The barrels containing the precious beans were missing. The few footmen that arrived before their patrols would start panicking in silence, as would Lieutenant Sharp. “There’s been an issue with the order from Eastvale, and there’s been a delay!” The innkeeper spoke over the aggressive murmuring of the soldiers. “We won’t have coffee any earlier than tomorrow morning, and I apologize for it!” It was way too early for this day to start going sour. “In the meantime, I suggest you all splash extra water on your faces and try to make it through!” Innkeeper Brianna was awfully chipper and positive for someone who’s up and about before the crack of dawn. Something wasn’t adding up, and the Lieutenant had to find out. “What’s got you so awfully chipper and positive for someone who’s up and about before the crack of dawn?” Sharp was direct and short when inquiring Brianna. “Are you sure those barrels were the only thing you had? I’ll take anything, and pay double for it. It doesn’t have to be from the northlands, it doesn’t even have to be good. Just give me some of what you’re having and I’ll be on my way.” Brianna leaned on the counter and looked up at Sharp with an oddly saccharine smile. “Well,” Brianna began whimsically, “I do have some stuff from Dalaran. It’s my own personal reserve, and it’s not everyone’s cup-of-tea. Because it’s coffee! I don’t mind fixing you up a cup, but it’ll be a handful of silver.” A handful of silver later, Sharp sat at a table with a warm cup of the special Dalaran concoction. The cup was dainty and elegant, and the foam at the top was in the shape of a star. The Lieutenant thought it was precious, but the pause wasn’t long before he sipped it. Sucking in the foam, the sugary sweetness of Dalaran Sparkroast filled his mouth and offended Nathaniel. This wasn’t coffee! It was way too sweet. Where’s the flavor, the smell? Still, it wasn’t so bad when you got past the sugary rush. In fact, the whipped cream foam made it extra-creamy, and it tasted quite wonderful if you pretended it wasn’t coffee. Nathan blinked his eyes, yawned, and sipped his coffee. On his third cup of coffee, the Lieutenant couldn’t have believed how wrong he was. With his eyes pried open and his now-jittery hands holding onto the last precious drops, the world seemed to move as fast as it should. He brought the empty cups to the counter where Brianna was still polishing the same spot on the counter, the innkeeper’s eyes trained onto Sharp like a cat to sprinting mice. “Wasn’t it wonderful? So wonderful?” Brianna spoke quickly, excitedly. Brianna and Sharp shared the same exact smile. “Everything is wonderful, so wonderful. And fast,” Sharp blurted rather than spoke. The pair nodded quickly at each other, bursting with absolutely nothing to say. “Well-anyway, I-gotta-go. Thanks for everything.” He held his hand over his chest. The officer’s heart was racing. “Am I excited, or am I about to die?” “Both, probably!” Brianna slapped the counter once, loudly. “Just kidding, ha-ha! But-really, you should go. Run!” The two couldn’t stop nodding at each other until Sharp ripped himself away and made his way outside. “Run!” Lieutenant Sharp needed something to do, and fast. He saluted every footman he saw with a rapid hand, eyes wide-open and with a toothy grin. The Lieutenant practically pranced around the town until he was intercepted by a footman, her stature almost as tall as the blonde scout.Sharp6 Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 greetings everyone hey guys, I am long time player since vanilla finally deciding to give WoW another try. All my friends have since quit so I moved to a new server to start fresh and heard this server pretty awesome so i just wanted to say hi and possibly find a social guild to joinClaydin7 Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 Most active alliance wpvp guild! Just wanted to know?Centipedê16 Feb 16, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 Tinksy's someonehelpme Fun Party It all happened when I was on my way home from my alcoholics anonymous meeting, only to get a flat tire. I had to have my car towed back home, but when I got there, I found out that my hard drive had died by some unfortunate circumstance. I can’t drive to the store to buy a new one, and the bus doesn’t run this late. I am currently writing this from my phone, and won’t be able to play WoW for a while. Just thought I’d tell you because it’s probably more important than whatever else you were doing. Updates soon, hopefully.Tinksy30 Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 The Walking Dead season Premier Tonight I don't know why the picked Valentine's Day to air the season premier unless they are making a funny regarding " Netflix and Chill". ANYHOW, I am excited and think the loud kid is going to get Judith and Carl killed. Anyone else have thoughts or predictions?Realskane27 Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 [RP] Operators Operating Operationally Sergeant Lightstep was like a nightsaber stalking through Tanaan’s thick, canopy jungle. She clung to the shadows of trees, crouching to stay low and reduce the chances of her tall, thin silhouette being detected against the backdrop of empty night and the typically poisonous flora, native to the harsh environment. The Kaldorei woman’s every step was carefully placed; a seemingly laborious action that she had honed over 600 years as a Sentinel flowing freely almost as second nature. However she was loose, relaxed; she had been always most at home among shadows cast by moonlight against the trees. Up ahead roughly fifty meters was a small Iron Horde camp. Her faintly glowing eyes pierced the dark of the jungle; she saw several lumbering orc figures. Some of them leaned against hastily built fortifications, or crouched around a crackling fire as they told stories and warmed their hands and hearts over fresh, hot, gruel. On the outskirts of the position were several guards, heavily armed and armored. They dutifuly scanned the darkness, looking for just the sort of agent that Lightstep was. She made quick mental note of their preparedness and watched their patrol routes for several moments before finally daring to move closer. She drew her knives, the same two blades that she had used over the past several centuries to end the lives of invaders of her home, and shortly after that, against several members of both Alliance and Horde expeditonary parties during the early portions of the Third War. But that was years ago, and she wasn’t home now. The races of the Alliance had proven capable and reliable allies. Even now, following close behind her was the squad of soldiers from the Seventy Third that she hand selected and trained for reconnaissance and sabotage, and recently had been leading as a raiding party against Iron Horde operations in Tanaan. She was deeply invested in the development of these young soldiers, and somewhat at odds with herself for instructing them in the sort of warfare that the Sentinels were famous for waging. Lightstep looked behind her for a moment and motioned for Corporal Caskaxe, a dwarven woman with a large caliber rifle to quietly make for the high ground on the camp’s western flank. Foliage rustled ever so slightly as the Dwarven woman repositioned. The other three soldiers pushed up to Sergeant Lightstep, they knew this particular drill by heart by now. The majority of Lightstep’s squad, alongside herself was positioned just south of the camp–they were so close that the intrepid Kaldorei Sergeant could begin to smell body odor mixed with the acrid smell of oil and gunpowder that was typical of the standard Iron Horde soldier. With the squad in position, Lightstep gave Caskaxe the signal to fire. The woman carefully loaded a tracer into her rifle and pushed the bolt forward; the rifle made a satisfying click and she sighted a perimeter guard and began to slowly squeeze the trigger. The rifle let out a deafening crack and the tracer raced through the night, appearing as a quick flash and a bright streak; it cut through dense foliage and hammered against the guard’s armor, shattering the poorly forged breast plate; pulverizing the Orc soldier's heart. Gutteral shouting could be heard ahead of the squad’s position to the south as the guards dove for cover and shifted their focus to the western sniper’s position. The Orcs who were surrounding the campfire rushed after their tents to hastily equip arms and armor; a second shot rang out and another tracer whistled and shone brightly through the night and another Orc thumped heavily to the ground dead. The camp’s watch commander shouted in frustration for his men to abandon their cover and go after the markswoman. He didn’t second guess the woman’s choice in ammunition for a moment. He was far too caught up in the moment, trying to ensure that no more of his men would fall to the heavily armed assailant.Lyrila8 Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 Question of the Day yours truly is back, we can all be friends. QOD, If you had to delete one guild from this server, which guild would it be and why?Moonnmoon67 Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 How to get a WoW Girlfriend. As told by Asmongold. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYcNNpg5hA8 Happy Valentine's Day everyone!Lucciian30 Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 We did it... We killed Garrosh and Vol.Ginjow39 Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 Dears Kittys: Specials Loves Editions Goods mornings, all yous brights and beautifuls peoples! I's likes to welcomes yous to this specials editions of Dears Kittys wheres we focus on lifes most greats abundance....LOVES! If yous needs relationships advice, I's a therapists. If yous needs confidence buildings, I's a coach. If yous needs marrys advice, I's a professionals. If yous needs to knows whats to buys hers, I's a fashionistas. If yous needs legals counsels, I's an attorneys. If yous needs etiquettes knowledge, I's a Ladys. If yous needs to knows whose singles, I's Kittys. If yous needs monies, I's sorrys. I's heres to halps! Lets me knows whats on yous minds todays and I's fix yous rights ups! This editions of Dears Kittys will close tonights at 9pm's.Kittys20 Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 RIP Justice Scalia Regardless of your politics, the guy's dissenting opinions were entertaining and legendarily furious.Xeer15 Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 [No Subject] :)Candlejack7 Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 Send me your sacs! [Rep Grind]/Finished! So, I'd like to get the "Hero of Shattrath" achievement and I need to reset my reputation with the Aldor - but this requires a metric butt-load of Dreadfang Venom Sacs. I need 1344 of these suckers in order to get my rep high enough to turn in the usual marks. I've farmed some, but I don't have the attention span to gather these on my own. That is why I'm turning to you, Emerald Dream, to assist in this endeavor. I'm offering 20g per Dreadfang Venom Sac - sent to this character, COD. If someone is crazy enough to farm this out on their own, that's 26,880 gold. Thanks in advance! Edit: I am no longer accepting sacs.Xeer89 Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 Lookin' for more! ((Continuous RP events!)) Lookin' for Merchants, Traders, Fences, Adventurers, Mercenaries, Power hungry deviants, Sailors, Pioneers, and of course... PIRATES / SCALAWAGS / BUCCANEERS. A new wave of fortune, infamy, and adventure is coming. Are you up for it? {I'll put more details here soon... many events are on the horizon}Gobbwrench7 Feb 15, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 wpvp movie .....Bmz26 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 [A] LF Mythic BRF bosses I am looking for the tier pieces off of mythic Thogar and Iron maidens if any guild is willing to sell me those boss kills with the Conqueror tier off both bosses add my battle tag for more info. Oxidize#1690Oximage1 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 nenthus ama live streaming very famous player twitch.tv/nenthusSenorx4 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 Rp (Double Panda) Liumeng sharpened his sword as it was dulled by the constant clashing against alliance steel. At first he had not wished to join the horde, but he did so to find the whereabouts of his supposed lost cousin that his father told him about. His father was always a very secretive man and he and him never had the best relations, he did not know if his words could even be trusted but none the less, it was the only thing he had to go by. After his fathers imprisonment by the Shado-Pan for practicing the forbidden void magics, Liumeng requested he leave his post at the serpents spine so he could then search for his cousin. He had spoke to him about this before, how he just learnes that long ago his aunt and uncle that he never had the chance to meet. Had a son that they gave up at the hands of Tien Monastary, and how he was no longer there. The Shado-Pan told him that they believe it to be foolish to do this as he had been missing for beyond two decades and the odds of finding him are very poor. It was like "Trying to find a skinny pandaren amongst the most populated village." As he put it. His commander then questioned his motives. "How will you find him? Do you have any leads on where he could be after leaving the monastary?" Liumeng answered him. " I know from word of mouth that an orphaned monk had aided in the capture of Tsung Lo the red scorpion, who had been in hiding using the disguise of an old grandmaster monk. For many decades, he suddenly disappeared taking a boat to Kalimdor. That's what they are saying at the veiled star inn." (Adding in more.later)Fenghuo1 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 We Were So Close http://imgur.com/3D6xgdp Feels bad man. At least he acknowledges that he is ruining the gaming experience for everyone. PS: Sorry, I know we really want a certain someone to eat cat food but I felt like sharing.Destrey2 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 [RP Origin] "Justice Incarnate" (( Kind of cheating here, but whatever. )) Gnorgo Stormgear was just an average gnome, always working hard and failing harder. The lesser races of Azeroth would often say that his big ideas were a little too big to contain in that tiny head of his. Gnorgo would disagree, there is no such thing as a bad idea in his eyes, nor is there such a thing as overkill. “My plans to become a gnomish hunter will soon come to fruition!” He would brag to his pet monkey assistant, Jenson. “Ook-ook-AH-AH-AAAAH!” Jenson would always provide riveting commentary during Gnorgo’s work. He was the closest thing to a friend he had, and they went everywhere together, from the ends of Azeroth, to just down the road, they could never be separated. Gnorgo lived in a small hut nestled deep within the lower slums of Gnomeregan, as his inventions did not garner much attention from the bigger businesses. Because of this, Gnorgo was forced into working a minimum wage job as a Thrallmart door-greeter, which was a short-lived furniture shop named after the Warchief himself… for some reason. Little did Gnorgo know that this job would be the greatest thing that has ever happened to him. After a long day of standing idly at the front door, having seen no customers all weekend, Gnorgo was met with the sparkling violet eyes of an elegantly-dressed pink gnomish gal striding gracefully through the front doorway. Gnorgo was frozen in place as their gazes locked. A stunning lass she was. She had HUGE goggles, and big bouncy pigtails. Fizi Popstraw, her name was, her title granted to her after her amazing invention of the triple-action-metal-bendy-straw-blaster. It was not a very effective tool, but was still impressive nonetheless. “Oh, hi there!” Fizi bounced slightly with concealed excitement. Fizi always loved meeting new people, especially Thrallmart door-greeters. Gnorgo was silent for several seconds before finally finding the courage to say something… or yell something, rather. “YOUR HAIR SMELLS NICE!!!” the shrill squeal of his screeching voice nearly melted Fizi’s ear off. Gnorgo was stunned with fear and embarrassment. He had lost his one chance at finding love, he thought, until he heard a heavenly giggle escape from her lips. “Hahaha!” she snorted loudly, sounding similar to that of a diabetic boar. “You’re killing me, guy! Hahahahaha!” Gnorgo found it difficult to craft the appropriate response, as he was totally unsure what she was laughing about in the first place. Maybe she was remembering something funny from earlier? “H-hello, why are you laughing?” Fizi was, at this point, completely detached from reality, wallowing in a puddle of her own hysterical tears. Gnorgo wasn’t sure if he should’ve been happy, or scared. He extended an arm forward. “Oh, Miss, the floor’s dirty, and you’re all clean and pretty. C’mon, get up.” “Haha…hehe…” Fizi looked deeply into Gnorgo’s fiery red eyes as their palms clasped together. Her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “You’re really funny!” Gnorgo inhaled deeply, his chest puffing outward statuesquely giving the illusion that some form of muscle lied beneath his skin. “Yes, I AM quite funny!” Gnome girls love funny. “I’m Fizi, what’s your name, door guy?” It was at this point that Gnorgo had magically forgotten it, so he consulted his boxer shorts for a name tag of some kind. The great C’thun was not on his side that day, as Gnorgo had accidentally misread his own name as “Qorgo!” but that sounded just as dumb anyways. Over time, these two gnomes would fall madly in love with each other. With their combined efforts they would invent many crazy contraptions, and would finally raise enough money to move out of their crummy slums to some slightly-less-crummy slums. Twin children would be born, one a girl, and one something slightly-resembling a boy. These children were Ellssa and Gizzly Stormgear. Ellssa, the girl, would constantly push herself to be the best she could possibly be. When she wasn’t out in the yard practicing spells on poor defenseless critters, she was shoving her face into a wordy book. Gizzly, the boy(?), was not so interested in knowledge and numbers, but would much rather settle his problems by bashing them in the face with an oversized weapon. Gizzly would always spend his free time building crazy mechanical suits modeled specifically after Azerothian wildlife, though Gizzly still has yet to perfect this technology even to this very day. At least they make great paperweights. Fizi adored her children and they adored her, though Gnorgo was not so easily impressed by their wacky toys and gimmicky gadgets. He yearned for something far greater within these children, so they strived. They pushed themselves to their absolute limits in a foolish attempt to win Gnorgo’s approval, but would be followed forever by his cold dismissive glare. Eventually, Gizzly would forfeit his father’s game. Ellssa, however, would refuse to falter.Tinksy7 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 PvP music I'm sure this has been a thread before, but instead of pulling a necro I'll just post one up. What gets you pumped to PvP? I find that I listen to different stuff depending on what character I'm on. Lots of Snoop Dogg, LL Cool J, Dr. Dre and other 90's stuff when I'm on Rain.Rainfeather31 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 [RP] The Road ((I decided to write something based on the comments from this story, http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/20742474256. I also didn't proof this one either. Why? Because I have to edit letters eight hours a day at work and that's peanuts to do at home now.)) He looked so different, tired, maybe. Drawn at the eyes from too many nights hunched over a desk, lamp burning against the top of his head. Mussed red, bright now, with eyes to match. Juzmik blinked twice, looking up at this non-entity that had risen from the cobwebs of some forgotten cage, lost to time and space, hidden away from anyone who might try to reach him who the infestation of death and ichor had so keenly claimed. The smile faltered as the boy stared, the hand paused before it touched his cheek. His lips parted, words condensing on the edges of his teeth; the unknown voice spoke his name, just once, just enough to break his heart. Juzmik buried his face against Sarjen’s chest and cried. Blurred figures drifted by them, through them, around and over them as Juzmik evaluated his partner, blue like a summer sky. “!@#$in’ southies,” He mumbled, sure his voice should be hoarser, sure that they had left something important behind. The engineer, the quiet man, the long departed pressed his face to the top of the Amani’s head and breathed, sucking in a deep breath through his nose. Cigarettes and firewhiskey and leather, a forest just after the rain. Arms tightened around Juzmik’s slight frame, chin atop his crown. They strolled, hand in hand, lilac blending with sky blues. The road stretched far beyond the horizon and closer still, though neither of them feel any need to rush ahead. Not now, not when they’ve still got so far to go. It isn’t particularly cold, though they feel the warmth from each other’s palms. They murmur quietly, though there isn’t anyone around to hear; red eyes meet and small smiles meet wide grins. They disagreed about their surroundings as they walked; the trees looked different, the sights and sounds of home, for both of them. The road stayed constant, winding around northern pines and southern kapok. The hills just outside Booty Bay, Sarjen said, with the sea and oil and rust mingling like nostalgia. Juzmik rebutted with the winding dirt roads of Tor’Watha, the protective mountains and the crack of lingering arcane tickling the fluff at his elbows. “I hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to different places.” The Amani muttered, tightening his tethering grip to the jungle troll. “No.” The engineer replied, finality like the stones of a shore break. “There’s only one gate.” He’d seen it before, fleetingly; Legba watching with his pipe pursed between his lips, weight on his cane as the blackness ripped at Sarjen, threw him to the ground and backward, dirt and stone ripping at his fingernails and screaming all the way. The shadows hurried along around them all the same. Some meandered, others ran. All indistinct. The question died on purple lips thrice; though they both knew that the answer. Of course they weren’t the only ones walking the road today. Riska orphaned, the tatters of the Warband held together by one Darkspear who couldn’t quite understand why everyone left him behind, but knew better than most the truth of his patron spirit. Umcha, finding his feet and so many corpses that it clogged his nose for weeks. They’d be alright, though. The living always found a way, and their feet would carry them down this same road soon enough. So they walked.Juzmik6 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 [RP] A Debate Within Darkness ((Hey folks, I made a thing and it's MU, not AU and I didn't really edit it but I hope you enjoy it anyway)) Reagan Luthen expanded and tightened his ebon fingers, skulking through the dense Duskwood forest. Dead trees towered above him, their branches decayed and withered, their husks cracked and dry. Morosely, he adjusted his noose, grimacing as he delved the eerie haunt. While he’d never been daunted by the darkness - often favoring it over the light, he’d been offered a rendezvous by an old acquaintance, one he prudently elected to accept. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been graced with the specifics of their encounter, instructed merely to enter the forests. While he’d an acute perception of pursuers, he nevertheless felt uneasy, however he’d refuse to acknowledge it. His gloved hands vanishing under his ebon cloak, Reagan’s black bag sizzled as he shrewdly surveyed his surroundings. While he hadn’t gleaned a soul from the frayed, damp grass, he surmised his associate tarried behind the slumping trees. Cowardly, albeit expedient – the Kingpin could respect that. ‘’Ah, young Reagan,’’ A weary voice welcomed, his slouched silhouette emerging from the abundant shadows. Instantly, the Kingpin turned to face his adversary. ((Play https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUi2-_oam-s )) ‘’Victor Lyndon,’’ Reagan spat the word virulently at his old mentor, his shoulders tense, his tone sharp. ‘’Where’s that fat ‘ol chain-slinging bastard of yours, Boroben?’’ ‘’Preoccupied with the Banshee Queen’s work, as is his charge,’’ The Deathstalker retorted, attempting to discern features from Reagan’s bagged visage. ‘’And yours.’’ Neither party dared access their arsenal – Reagan knew that if his old mentor sought to strike him out, he wouldn’t have announced himself. Which made their meeting doubly vexing. ‘’I see your gift has been confiscated,’’ The elder Deathstalker noted. ‘’A pity – we’d toiled so vehemently to instill purpose in you.’’ ‘’Your purpose, not mine,’’ Reagan retorted, recalling their sinister abduction several months prior. ‘’That’s the problem with you, Vic – you can’t think for your bloody self.’’ ‘’And you have nothing to strive for, save selfish ambitions,’’ the elder Deathstalker parried coolly, arching two silvery brows as he concealed a hand behind his back. ‘’Aye, maybe,’’ Reagan murmured, proffering the man a venomous glare. ‘’But at the end of the day, my ‘selfish ambitions’ landed me in a pretty damned swell spot, while you’re still Sylvanas’s obedient ‘lil pup. You’ve worked for her ever since your rebirth, riskin’ your own hide time ‘n time again, and what’ve you got to show for it?’’ ‘’Respect amongst the great Queen’s ranks,’’ Lyndon replied, his amicability waning. ‘’Control over her units, so that I might achieve indelible victories in her name, and a reliable venue of foes to slaughter – to satiate the bloodlust dormant in every Forsaken.’’ ‘’What’re you talkin’ ‘bout?’’ the Kingpin demanded, although he already knew the answer. ‘’I’ve been monitoring Westhorne’s activities, keeping my ear to the ground, as yourself,’’ the Deathstalker explained, snaking a hand over Reagan’s shoulder. ‘’I’ve heard about your duel with Zaidel Orga – a showdown you could’ve avoided, if you elected to.’’ Shrugging Lyndon’s hand off abrasively, Reagan regarded him reproachfully. ‘’He killed an executive, and I wanted to make an example of ‘em.’’ ‘’He did,’’ Lyndon agreed softly, smirking at the Kingpin’s aggravation. ‘’But I’d surmise murdering him in his sleep would’ve garnered the same result.’’Luthen7 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 [RP] Full Circle ((I tried?)) When you walked with death, it was less an ominous dread and more an irritating, silent companion. It was a common thread that linked her with several others, a persistent shadow clinging, echoing of footfalls that followed their every move. Every forsaken had a story for this, it was almost conversational to them. You grew accustomed to being asked with as much nonchalance as a stranger inquiring where you'd obtained a trinket or piece of armor. It was casual conversation, it was often without tact or sensitivity. It was simple facts. How did it happen, were you a hero? An adventurer? Were you brave in the face of certain demise, or did you cower as though you had no spine? Did you weep like a terrified child? Did you even know what hit you? Did you give as good as you got? Did you sacrifice yourself? Was it for nothing? When her mind was allowed to drift, in the quiet, seemingly 'still' hours of night, this question often came up. While it was true enough that death was all she knew now, when these particular thoughts sifted into her head it had less to do with her current situation, more to do with her first hand experience. Catching glimpses of herself in a reflective surface always caused her a split second of feeling disoriented. Seeing herself as she was now, was always a jolt to her senses. In her own mind, she wasn't ashen faced with lantern-bright hollows and shortly cropped, pale blonde hair. Her mind played tricks. Her mind always wanted to remind her of what she'd been in life. Fair skinned, but not pale. Clear-water eyes, determined and curious. Long, gold colored locks that would glint in the sunlight. When the brief disphoria lifted, she couldn't help the way her lips contorted to a slight sneer. It was disgust, in both her current state and her foolish, idle longing for what she'd been. She felt her lips doing the same thing, currently. The sneer of distaste was present on the priestess' as she walked. The others were talking amongst themselves, tones low to avoid being too obvious as they traveled. It was infrequent that Selynth herself interjected into the conversations, but she was usually listening. She was good at listening, you never figured out secrets and information if you didn't have a 'good ear' for details. Work for the Undercity, work as a mercenary, all of it was simply to fill time and keep moving forward. When the lead stopped abruptly, the rest of the party did in turn. Silence fell on them, but just as quickly it turned to shouts, there was a flurry of activity. Gunfire cracked in the air, the rushing sound of heavy, armored footfalls on the ground. The fight would come to them. The party was woefully unprepared for an ambush and it showed with the scrambling. Teeth bared, the forsaken rushed forward, bright eyes an eerie glow against the backdrop of the shadows that quickly slipped over her form. Her lips barely moved, the void spell she conjured with gestures of sharp fingers bringing tendrils of shadow from the ground at the feet of their attackers. The moment of confusion was short lived, they began their efforts to free themselves from the snare. Time was limited, as was how long she could actually hold the spell. Her voice was a command through grit teeth. "Get as far as you can from here, now." She didn't turn to look at any of them, she didn't have to. The hurried footsteps were enough. Her attention stayed forward, watching the faces contorted in impotent rage as they struggled and hacked against the shadowy tendrils holding them prone. Selynth felt her arms begin to tremble, the effort it took to keep the void spell active, to keep grown men and women tethered, was great. Her heart no longer beat in her chest, she no longer had breath, but for a moment, a parallel. Back to back with a warrior whom she'd once loved, others huddled near them. The innocent cried, they screamed, they panicked. The horrors that came to them, within the safety of their own home, their Lordaeron, closed in. She felt her arms tremble and tense as they were held high above her head. The shimmering barrier that covered them, the holy light that cut through the darkness that had become their ordeal, still stood. But just like back then, despite her efforts, she could not last forever. Just as the barrier had eventually dropped, so did Selynth's hold on the void tendrils. You couldn't stop everything. There was nothing more inevitable than death. How did it happen, were you a hero? An adventurer? Were you brave in the face of certain demise, or did you cower as though you had no spine? Did you weep like a terrified child? Did you even know what hit you? Did you give as good as you got? Did you sacrifice yourself? Was it for nothing? Maybe. Maybe not.Sélynth8 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 [RP] Warchief, My Warchief ((First: spoiler warning. Using some potentially leaked Legion information in this write up, if you care about such things. Second: this is AU, obviously, for the RP day theme. Third: I don’t write trolls with accents when they’re speaking Zandali. Cause…it’s their native language. So. Yeah. Fourth: I’m changing up my style a little, since this is such a different kind of story—ripping a page out of Theenie’s book and trying to write in the active voice. We’ll see how well that works for me.)) ________________________________ Broken Isles Eight months post-assault Exhaustion. That's all he feels, now—all he has felt for…how long? He has long lost track of time. His rations had run out ages ago, and the gnawing hunger pangs have subsided enough by now that such feelings are no longer reliable timekeepers. His feet don’t hurt anymore, either, neither do his sides from running, or his legs from walking until unconsciousness stopped them, then immediately standing to move again. Taz’jin doesn’t even know where he is, anymore—a cardinal sin for any self-respecting shadow hunter. But none of that matters. The loa have been silent for days, weeks—and it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the Warchief. All that matters is finding Vol’jin. Because Vol’jin can’t be dead. It isn’t that he refuses to accept such a thing; it is simply that, objectively, Vol’jin could not be dead. Even knowing nothing else, now, Taz’s weary mind knows that much. With utter and complete certainty. ------------------------------------- Two months post-assault ”But he’s dead, Tazzy,” Umcha says, gnawing his lower lip as the shadow hunter grimly fills a large rucksack with everything he would need for an extended time in the field. “We went to his funeral, remember? You remember that, don’t you?” Taz glances over at the boy, forcing a smile for his benefit. “They didn’t have a choice. He’s gone yeah, and they had to have closure—there always has to be a Warchief.” He sighs, and shoulders the rucksack. “But I don’t believe he’s dead. Not until I see a body. He deserves that much, after all he’s done for us.” ----------------------------------------------------------- Strong hands—surprisingly strong, for such a small troll—shove Taz roughly against the hard stone of the Dalaran sewer. “You think you could just sneak off like that?” Juzmik spits, voice raised in anger, eyes betraying the true pain, the betrayal that underscores the accusation. “You think you can just leave us like that? Leave the Warband—and you don’t even have the !@#$ing balls to say goodbye?” Taz’s hands wrap gently around the younger man’s, and he smiles—ghastly. “It was—it would have been easier, that way. For everyone.” “You stupid sonofa%^-*!.” Juzmik snarls, and punches him in the chest—but there’s no force behind the blow this time. “I know he’s important to you—@#$%, Taz, he’s important to all of us. But he’s not more important than the Warband!” Taz doesn’t answer, and Juzmik’s mouth falls open a little. “…Is he?” Taz is still silent, merely removes the young man’s hands from his shoulders, and ruffles the wild blue hair—an old gesture, one that causes both of them to break eye contact suddenly, for fear of what the other might see there. He turns, and begins walking down the large pipe, towards the city’s secret exit. He pauses at the edge, fingering the glider trigger on his belt—he hates this part. “The Horde can’t afford to lose two shadow hunters!” Juzmik practically screams at him, in desperation. And it IS desperation, if Juzmik has been reduced to appealing to Taz’s sense of patriotism. “Not now! Not in the middle of a—” The shadow hunter jumps, without looking back. Tazjin6 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 [RP] Death of the dread pirate (late!) Iorvan sat among the wreckage of the ship clutching his gut as tight as he could. All around him he could hear the crackle of fires and the screams of the crew as they succumbed to the heat of the flames. The stench of burning flesh and lumber filled his nostrils, but oh how he wished the salty scent of the sea would take over once more. He looked on at the shores of the Broken Isles and couldn't help but smile. "So this is how it ends" he muttered, his words overtaken by a violent and blood filled cough that sent flecks of crimson down his sea stained shirt. This was to be their finest campaign, the war that won back Azeroth for good and sent those bastard demons packing. He'd rallied his men and set sail with the fleet, he had even earned the praise of Lor'themar himself for the prowess and ruthlessness of his crew. "You are an asset to the Sin'dorei efforts Iorvan" the words echoed through his head like a drunken dream as the world swirled around him. The screams and howls of both mortal and demon filled his ears as his fever dream faded and the real world came crashing through to him and once more the stinging pain from his gut rose up. "Cap'n are you ok" a voice cried out from his right in terror. Iorvan managed to turn his head enough to see a young Blood elf crewman come crawling up to him, a look of horror plastered in his young eyes. "No. Methinks I'll not live to see the sunset lad" he replied with a pained laugh as he once more coughed up a glob of blood. "Cap'n you can't die" the young elf cried out as he began to examine the wounded pirate. "Lad if I die do not weep for me. If I die it is because of those bastards" Iorvan muttered as he pointed to the font of fell energy pouring from the tomb of the fallen titan. "If I die, make sure those sons of !@#$%s know that the pirate captain Iorvan died coming to put his foot up their arses" he muttered with a smile as he once more blinked heavily. The darkness was soothing in its own way. He thought of Quel'thalas and how the forest around Silvermoon looked this time of year. The sweet smell of the trees and the cool touch of the summer breeze felt good on his skin. He remembered the parties lord Saltheril threw around this time of year, and how excited he'd been as a young lad to help the Lord gather supplies for the party in return for an invitation. He could see the smile on Captain Kelseth's face when he'd returned her documents lost to the murlocs, and the sun setting on Eversong Woods as he exhaled his last breath and once more returned home.Iorvan1 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 (RP) Alcohol in Azhara Lazily spitting off the side of the terminus, Kuronad watched his saliva splatter on the stony, umber colored earth beneath him. Truly, Azhara provided as much entertainment as his ma’s pa’s last family dinner. A slight shudder ran through the orc, setting his nerves on end as he raked his gaze across the grassland or whatever the hell the goblin infested place could be called. Testament to his thirst for sport, the orc idly envisioned Alliance soldiers cropping up across the rocky expanse exposed to his view, treating the vista as a personal shooting range. Tiring of his game, Kuronad spat and stood shakily to his knees. He rifled through his jerking and pulled out a promising flask, allowing a grin brief display on his otherwise stolid face. Alas, the flask proved emptier than his ammo pouch after a good day putting holes in dwarven skulls. “Well, !@#$.” Several pitter-pattering steps shocked the gun-toting hunter out of his murderous daydreams. A pair of pint sized goblins animatedly chattering to one another about two different topics waddled up the track and caught sight of the glowering orc. Kuronad grunted and stomped past the greedy gold grabbers, furiously questioning his decision to trek to Azhara. He alighted upon the dusty ground outside the rocketway terminus and glanced around, begging the spirits for either a flask--perhaps three--or a buxom orcish maid to appear. Finding himself still in want of both, the orc whistled sharply and meandered into a forest sparsely populated with trees as tall as the goblins were short. Thirty-two steps in, a frenzied burst of sound reached Kuronad’s ears. Slinging his gun off his shoulder and settling into a practiced crouch, the orc warily cast his keen gray eyes from tree to tree. After a short scan, his jaw dropped; not thirty-one paces away a dwarf giggled and reloaded his rifle, preparing to give the gift of an early grave to the next goblin lucky enough to receive a bullet. “Huh. Ain’t that some %^-*.” Kuronad grunted and swung his extremely long and well polished (it honestly resembled a cannon moreso than a firearm) gun up and pointed it at the small bearded fellow. Pew pew. Two shots rang out in quick success, further rending the otherwise silent forest’s attempt at a calm evening. Dropping dramatically, the dwarf spun in a death spiral reminiscent of a ballerina. A wad of spit left Kuronad’s jaws and he again grunted; however, this grunt left with a disappointed tone. Slowly ambling over to his not-so-big game, the orc knelt down and inspected his prey. “Kinda like shootin’ ma’s pa’s ducks in that pond or pen or whatever it was.” Rifling through the dwarf’s plethora of pockets with the barrel of his gun, Kuronad’s eyes lit up when he heard a faint clink. A cursory search with his hand revealed like seven flasks, each seemingly unemptied. “Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe these dwarfies aren’t such a bad thing to hunt.” (( I found a dwarf sporting the colors of Clan Battlehammer causing a ruckus out in Azhara. As any honorable member of the Horde would do, I kilt it and stole his alcohol. Thanks for the hilltop fun, my diminutive and bearded friend! http://i.imgur.com/2c52P5I.jpg ))Kuronad9 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 Miss Stormwinds Pageants **Feb. 27th's** She dilly-dallys around Stormwind catching people as they return from the dance. Each and every Alliance female, of adult age, is offered a flyer. Additional flyers are posted around town, but the main sign up sheet is posted on the Heroes Call Board as follows... ...Kittys67 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 ED - Can I get some profession advice? First of all, I hope it's cool to be posting such a topic on our realm forums. Since the community is active, I wanted to get some opinions about professions. I intend to fully play a Demon Hunter and watch the few other characters I have collect dust when Legion is released. Unlike many players, I do not have every profession maxed. I also do not overly enjoy professions, but because they are there, I feel I must max out two professions for a feeling of in-game completion. I play the game a lot, but I am casual in the sense that I do not do major raiding nor do I pursue high PvP arena ratings; I dabble in a lot of what the game has to offer. I am trying to figure out if anyone else has similar preferences and experiences as it relates to their WoW history and professions. Does anyone have opinions on what professions to pick with similar preferences? Does anyone have strong opinions on professions for a DH? Is gathering the way to go for profession haters?Slyke11 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 [RP] Enough (( bye au!lera, die well. i napped thru the showing of deadpool i was gonna go see, so i suddenly have time to write one lolllll. sorry, it's not very good. )) It's been months since she's been on any sort of front. Keeping her shop, a small potions and poultices store in the Royal Exchange of Silvermoon City, has kept her away from fighting, kept her busy and away from mending anything more than the bouts of sickness that sometimes spread from the children of Murder Row to those of the Exchange. Not that she doesn't help-- she offers her mending services so reduced they may as well be free, healing children from all parts of the city. As the months roll by, fingers cracked with glowing scars almost itch for the rush of healing soldiers once more. The Highguard rolls in and out of the city, with a schedule she can no longer keep track of, and she watches unfamiliar faces in a tabard she carries a copy of back in her apartment stride by. Hers is nicer than most of those she sees, gilded with the golden thread of a retired officer, but the makings are the same, and she almost aches to put it back on. But Liniadel does not lead, so Leran'thiel does not follow. The first news of a demonic invasion comes from Dalaran, whispered from the Kirin Tor to the Sunreavers, from the Sunreavers to the Spire. It leaks out in dribbles to the general populace, a strange rumour few seem to believe. A joke, insensitive and cruel, spread by those who think elves involvement with the Legion is entertaining. When the infernals come crashing into the Spire itself, no one finds it funny anymore. The Legion only sends two, more than enough for the remnants of a people they nearly eliminated more than a decade ago, but the people of Silvermoon have never been weak. Neither has Leran'thiel. Her skills with the Light are rusty, her faith in herself shaken enough that the first spell she tries to cast is useless. A ward, to keep a wall from crushing a group of fleeing magisters, falters and fails. She closes her eyes, unwilling to see the product of her failure. The screams reach her anyway, and her resolve flickers once again. As she opens her eyes, the blinding glare of the sun mixes with the fire of the demon, the same glow reflected in her own eyes. The Light builds within her, crashing in waves, rising until she can feel it stretch beyond her body, stretching her with it. An awareness beyond what she's meant for, even if only a little, and the cracked scars on her arms glow brighter. They spread like felfire up her arms, down her check, across her face, mimicking the destruction of her home, her city, the only place she's truly felt herself. But as they grow, so too does the Light. She can see more magisters making their way to the Spire, now. They only need a small distraction, just enough time to weave a tangent spell and bring rock and felfire to ruin. The beacon of Light, standing beside the fountain, tilts her head, cracks and Light growing like moss. She can't do it alone, but she can do enough. Enough to buy them time, enough to weaken it just a little. It has to be enough. Light spreads outwards in waves, ebbing back and forth until the edges of the shimmering sea crash against the newfound cliff of an infernal. The thing shrieks, rocking the crumbling city as rubble from the Spire comes crashing to the ground. The Light holds it in place, even as felfire races towards the source. Ah, well. She's done enough.Leranthiel8 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 [RP] Mayday, Mayday (( whaaat, I actually wrote something. I got an idea from Taelyren's prompt, so obviously this is AU. For those of you who aren't familiar with Sachiel, he's a technomage. If you're unfamiliar with them, I suggest reading this first or you might be scratching your head a little: http://wowwiki.wikia.com/wiki/Techno_mage )) “Mayday, mayday!” The small device on Sachiel’s shoulder buzzed with activity constantly; still, the technomage could barely hear it over the constant cannonfire and roaring engines of the squad of gunships as they approached the towering monolith before them, erupting with a pillar of blazing green light that extended far higher into the overcast sky than could be seen. Smoke and dust rose into the sky as the gunship immediately to his left - that had just moments ago been flying as his peer - sank into the air. Bellowing with flame and the undignified screams of its doomed crew, it irreversibly fell towards the sea below. Some of the crew aboard his own ship watched in awe, jaws slack as they watched a fate that they enabled themselves to meet, some even ignoring the winged demons above, below, and latched to the ship. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before they joined their fleet-mate. Four gunships remained in the air. Giant, swarming, relentless demons surrounded each one, engaging their crew and the soldiers aboard that had been intended to assault the Broken Isles. Each one was armed to the teeth, brimming with the Alliance military, mercenaries, their crew, and accompanied by dozens of armed gyrocopters and gryphon-riders, and not for a single man or woman among them was the moment dull. The cannons aboard his own host sounded off once more, leaving Sachiel’s ears ringing as he reached the main deck just in time; small, sickly-green portals opened in the skies ahead, launching enormous, flaming, red-or-green boulders towards the gunships out of the Twisting Nether. As he began to race towards one of the smoothbore cannons positioned towards the front of the gunship, a terrorguard slammed into the deck from above, sending wooden and metal debris across the surface of the ship. Its wings spread in attempt to make itself look larger, the maw on its torso glowing fiercely as the demon let out a guttural howl. The mage didn’t flinch, beginning to reach for the rifle slung around his back when a dwarf, clad in full plate armor and armed with a battleaxe almost his size, sprinted forward with a blood-curdling battlecry, knocking the enormous demon’s first swing to the side. “Go, lad!” He shouted, turning back to face the mage. With half a nod, Sachiel focused for a split second, vanishing and reappearing within the same instant past the demon and the dwarf that was now keeping it occupied. Reaching the turret, the mage pressed one hand to it and the metal began to glow a bright purple. Reacting to the technomage’s call, it spun and aimed its cannons almost directly up for the infernals and abyssals that were raining down towards, firing two shots that were almost deafening at such close range. Watching the effect as best he could, the mage let out a pleased ‘humph’ as the flak exploded in the air, ripping the constructs that threatened the gunships below to pieces and sending their remains down as pebbles. A distinctly dwarven cry broke the illusion of victory as Sachiel spun to see the soldier that had engaged the terrorguard being raised up on its blade, skewered through the chest. The demon threw the corpse off of the long, curved sword, turning back to the mage that had evaded it and letting loose a furious roar as it began to charge. Reaching for his rifle again, a number of shots rang out immediately after his sights landed on the demon’s chest. As if it were in slow motion, the mage could hear the grinding metal as each new bullet slid into the weapon’s chamber just a split-second before the firing pin struck the primer. Every metallic bang was accompanied by a bright yellow muzzle flash. Each shot struck, hardly a feat at such close range, causing the demon’s blue flesh to ripple and sending sickly-green blood across the deck of the ship. Nevertheless, it continued to stomp relentlessly towards its target. Click.Sachiel9 Feb 14, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 [A] <Coast to Coast> 13/13M US265 Recruiting <Coast to Coast> is a tightly knit group of players that met at the beginning of WoD. We are a social, highly active guild focused on pushing PvE content with multiple raid teams. Throughout the expansion we went from a casual guild to a top 300 US raiding guild. We take pride in providing a fun raiding environment, while helping newer members learn and grow into cutting edge PvE content. Progression: http://www.wowprogress.com/guild/us/emerald-dream/Coast+to+Coast Currently we have 3 raiding teams, a primary Mythic HFC team (13/13 Mythic), another Mythic team (3/13 Mythic), and a heroic team (8/13 Heroic). Our progression raid times (all PST): Tuesday: 6:00pm – 10:00pm Thursday: 6:00pm – 10:00pm Sunday: 6:00pm – 10:00pm Recruitment: We are currently recruiting all classes and specs for all of our raiding groups in preparation for Legion. We also enjoy running mythic dungeons, challenge modes, PVP, alt raids, achievement runs, and more. If you have any questions or would like to chat about joining the guild, feel free to apply on the website, reply to this post or message any of our officers in game. http://coasttocoastguild.us/ Marshmellowz - Anderdj#1280 Treefee - Treefee#1923 Mistix - Mistix#1402Treefee6 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 The Ranger From The North Here is my RP back story for Phatori, if you see me running around and want to group up for PVP feel free to ask! Phatori#1304 I'd love to join in on some WPvP with some of the guilds running around! Catch me around fighting Horde all over the Eastern Kingdom! Phatori spends most of his time protecting his late home at Lakeshire, traveling over the Grizzly Hills and Howling Fjord, and visiting with the Elves of Quel'Danil Lodge! Born at the start of the First War in Lakeshire. Phatori traveled north to the Hinterlands after his home was sacked by the Horde and finds the High Elves at Quel'Danil Lodge, who teach him how to master a bow and live off the land. Phatori arrived in Stormwind 5 years prior to the start of the Third War. Enlisted in the King's army as an archer. After years of service Phatori joined the 7th Legion where he aided in the Northrend campaign where he was stationed in Westguard Keep, Phatori found an eagle companion to travel the world next to. Phatori took his leave from the Kings army after the fall of Icecrown. Phatori stayed in Northrend where he fell in love with the Grizzly Hills and Howling Fjord. Phatori lived as a Lone Ranger living off the wild. Phatori quickly earned the title "Ranger From The North" for his prowess of the land and his skill with his bow. He wondered all over The Eastern Kingdom and Northrend with his new companion. He later traveled to Draenor to help aide in the fight against the Iron Horde. Since the defeat of the Iron Horde Phatori now roams the worlds he has come to know and fights the Horde where ever he finds them. Coming and going from one region to the next, making allies to fight the Horde. Just as quickly as he comes he will soon disappear once the battle is over. Always wondering, always the Ranger From The North!Phatori4 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 [RP] Paranoia ... “Is that a tower?” “I told you, he’s gone mad!” “Where did he even get all that scrap metal?” “At least half of it is stolen, and I’m not about to ask where he got the other half” “How long has he been in there?” “Last I saw him was three weeks ago.” “Three weeks? Did he steal all our food as well?” “This has gone too far. I don’t care what they say about him, I’m going in to get some answers!” The crowd of concerned campers grew deathly silent, as one among them approached the makeshift tower alone. For months Crusader Sickz had neglected to help with the efforts on Draenor. For months he had been stealing scrap material from his allies, and using it to construct his personal shelter in secret. A massive tower, reaching higher than every tree, and beyond the shadow of every mountain. The rest of the camp was baffled when they discovered it peeking mockingly out over the horizon. It must have taken months, and a small army of workers to build, yet there it stood, in stark opposition to all logic and probability. The wind’s touch chilled the tower, creaking and swaying subtly with the wind as the lone soul approached the one and only entrance at the base of the tower. “Be careful, it might be booby trapped.” One concerned voice whispered from the crowd behind him. The door knob turned slowly, and without resistance. “It’s unlocked?” The brave soul peaked inside the door. The tower’s creak ran up the walls like a spine, echoing back down the spiraling stairs. No candles, or windows lit the room. The dim moonlight overhead was only enough to see the empty room with each step of the spiraling stairs growing darker as it climbed the inner walls of the tower. “I need light-“ Is what the brave soul would ask, if not for a squeamish lad prematurely handing off his candle light before sprinting to the back of the crowd to watch from a safe distance. With caution, the brave soul climbed the spiraling stairs, taking great care to check each step for trip wire, and pressure plates. With each step the night grew darker, and the carried light could only shrink into a boundless void. The darker it became, the closer the brave soul held the candle’s light. The brave soul dared not look directly into the darkness - The contrasting light had softened the image of the dark. With each step, the light grew dimmer, wavering with each anxious breath. The brave soul’s heart beat louder, and louder, until it overcame the dying crackle the candle’s fire. The pitter patter of sweat kissing the cold floor only exasperated fear. “How much further?” The brave soul cried out, but no response. The next 100 steps looked the same as the last. With each successive step, the brave soul had to become braver, checking each step for traps more hastily than the last, until the repetitive motion become no more than a comforting gesture. The next 100 steps were done in a sprint, holding the candle to the floor, only to know that there are still more steps ahead. At the top of the spiraling stairs, a simple wooden door stood between the brave soul and the top of the tower. Drenched in sweat, and shaking with exhaustion, the brave soul reached out to open the door. “I’ve come this far…” With a burst of adrenalin, the brave soul pushed open the simple door, fully expecting a fight, but the light in the room was stunning. The brave soul had nearly forgotten what it was like… Still blinded by soft eyes, the brave soul charged into the room, raising a hammer high overhead in an intimidating fashion. Then suddenly, the brave soul stopped, dropping the candle in shock, dumbfounded by the sight of a lone blood elf relaxing in a comfortable looking chair, and gorging himself on stolen food.Sevën12 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 LF PIRATE GUILD I be lookin' for scoundrels, scumbags and scallywags t' play withOneeyedwìlly22 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 [RP] Seven Hours ((Yes yes I know, I'm late to RP day, but in my defense I didn't know it was a thing until it was too late and I really liked the idea of Taelyren's prompt. So nonetheless, here's my late addition to RP Day featuring my paladin, James Ironwood.)) Seven hours. It had been seven hours since the Tomb of Sargeras reopened and the Burning Legion's invasion began. In the middle of The Great Sea, dozens of warships raced towards the Broken Isles, their hulls creaking and groaning as waves crashed, subsided, then crashed again against them. The smell of saltwater drifted through the air as the waves crashed over the bow of the ship and rained down upon the deck. James lifted his head, soaked and weary from the long journey, his plate armor beginning to weigh heavily on him, his sword and shield shaking as his hands trembled from the cold. The captain of the ship barked orders at his subordinates, and crewmen dashed across the ship, moving supplies and readying cannons. Two men wrestled with a crate of ammunition that had broken free of it's restraints and was sliding across the deck. He brought his attention back to the men and women knelt down beside him, awaiting orders from their commander. Among them were paladins and soldiers, marksmen and mages, all of them worn and battle-hardened from years of combat. They were some of the best the Alliance had to offer, all hand-picked for this crucial mission. This suicide mission. It was a desperate attempt to storm the Broken Isles and stop the Burning Legion from entering our world, and they all knew what it meant. Waiting for them would be an army of demons hellbent on razing Azeroth, leaving behind nothing but terror and destruction. If they failed here, all of Azeroth would be in danger. "Light, hear our prayer," A priest began. "Guide the path of these brave heroes in their darkest hour, give strength to their swords, and shield them from the darkness that seeks to consume our world. Let them..." The prayer was broken by a sudden yell above from the crow's nest. "Incoming! They're headed our way!" Shouts arose from the crew but were quickly overpowered by the sound of screeching coming from the sky. The soldiers rose from their vigil and drew their weapons, readying themselves for an attack. Cannonfire rained off in the distance as other ships came under attack. "Everyone to your stations, now!" The captain yelled from his post. "Get those cannons ready!" Marksmen began readying their weapons as a swarm of demons emerged from the sky with a deafening screech. They careened toward the ship, latching on to whatever they could reach and tearing it apart, man and ship alike. James raised his shield, trying to deflect swipes as a wave of demons pushed their way through the ship. "Fire! Open Fire!" The captain boomed as he began yelling orders. His commands were cut short when a demon swooped down and dug it's claws into him, pulling him from the deck and into the thrashing waters below. Without a leader and under bombartment from demons, crewmen panicked and the deck fell into disarray. Suddenly, a resounding thud came from the center of the ship, as the Alliance commander drove his sword into the floor. "Crewmen, return to your stations! That's an order!" The commander barked. "Ironwood, give our mage some cover so they can get a barrier up around the ship!" "I'm on it!" James replied. As the wave of demons began to slow, he rushed to where one of the mages had begun channeling their spell, and raised his shield into the air. As a dome of light emanating from the shield enveloped the two, a demon rushed down to attack but was reflected, screeching in pain as it was burned by the Light. "Hurry, I can't keep this up for long!" An arcane dome began to surround the ship, and demons bounced off and crashed down into the frigid waters. The brief respite gave the crew members a chance to recover and relax, but the commander remained firm and focused. His eyes sharp until he was caught by surprise. "Land! Brace for impact!" The deck shook violently as the ship beached on the shoreline, it's rapid pace suddenly coming to a halt. Some of the sailors manning the cannons were thrown clear of the ship, others crashing down hard against the floor. James barely managed to keep his footing, steadying himself against a post. "Disembark!" The commander yelled. "Get ready to storm the-" His order was cut off as artillery slammed into the bow of the ship, shards of wood and fel flame exploding from the impact.Sayir4 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 ED - can I get some opinions? Ugh, double post my apologies!Slyke1 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 [RP] One Last Contract (( Made a story to match the theme on AU character death on the bus ride home! Ps, sorry Kag I God modded AU Kag and co for the sake of the story ;_; I hope you don’t mind.)) “Mayday, mayday, I repeat M-AUGHHHH” Emerald streaks of lightning seared deep into the hull of the ship, immolating any traces of life left across the scorched timber. The agony of men, good men, filled the warped room as a large infernal breached through the heart of the Pridewind. Shame really, the honor guard had spent months of preparation, trying to mimic the exact likelyness of the skybreaker, using what limited resources they had. They hired me out again for one final contract, I promised Namu that this would be my last. We could have grown old together, had us a couple of kids… We even picked out a spot on the eastern coasts of Arathi… Quiet and away from the world. It tore through the other mechanics, they were engineers not fighters. Joliver tried to extinguish the flames using a gnomish device, and it would have worked too if that damned infernal had not picked him up. It grabbed his face and his legs, brutally ripping him apart one spinal segment at a time. It tossed him to the side and then it came for me… I needed more time. That was when Lohan dropped down through a crack in the ceiling. He was one of the shield mages up top… And if he was down here too… We had truly lost. The wounded Mage trapped the infernal in a large sphere, and that infuriated it, it began pounding and pounding on the walls of its prison. Lohan was bleeding out and with each colossal blow his strength was waning. I couldn't do anything but watch, I felt like I had to run, I was in shock. And then it hit me. Shock. I rushed to my metallic glaives… They were the first weapon I mechanized, never thought they would last me this long. I knew that if I gotten close I'd be just as dead as olie. Instead I reached for two dwarven clamps and a thick spool of copper wiring designed to connect harpoons with the ship. The glaives crudely attached, but they would hold.The infernal shattered the arcane shell and with it Lohan collapsed upon the oil stained floor, slowly sliding towards the ocean below. I picked up my left glaive and and hurled it hard at the infernal, piercing its core. Enough to piss it off, but far from enough to fel the demon. Sprinting towards the Gigalocket capacitor, right glaive in both arms, time seemed to slow. You could hear the engine pounding, it was smoking out hard and bound to combust. The air of the den reeked of transmission and fuel. The large bomb I had helped to design loomed menacingly as it sat motionless in the dock, untouched by oil, and unscathed by fire… Yet. “Left foot forward..” I muttered to myself, remembering the words of the Orc who trained me to fight. “Stand up straight…” I spoke out loud, remembering the dying breath of the scourged man I called father. “And Soar!” I screamed as the the glaive turned into a javelin striking the capacitor. The infernal reeled in pain as thousands of volts of electricity coursed through its fiery heart electrocuting every aspect of its molten shell until it finally shattered. It's smoldering remains slowly skidding down the floor and off the airship. The room was clogged with smoke, you couldn't see two feet in front of you. The whirling and spinning wouldn't stop, I couldn't breath, I had to get above deck. Fumbling toward the stairs in a haze of confusion I reached for the latch. Thankfully it was there. I kneeled and took one last breath, then opened the hangar door. It was out of the furnace… And into the fire. Above deck lay an empty cabin, soldiers and demons piled upon one another, sailors and mech’s too. On the far starboard side of the deck I could hear the captain's voice. “Abandon ship!” He yelled while boarding the last remaining gyrocopter. He didn't get far, as a swarm of winged beasts ripped him from the sky, thrashing the machine and tossing his body parts between each other amidst the clouds. Others tried to jump off the sides, but it was too late, we were too close to the shore to survive a fall without hitting reef or worse, another ship. It was here at this moment that I accepted my fate. I wasn't getting off this ship alive. I’d be damned if I didn't go out on my own terms though. The remaining demons on the ship hunted the men like wild animals, clawing and snarling there way about the deck. I made a break for the cabin, got inside and locked the hatch. For all I knew, everyone was dead. The gnomerecorder went off then and a familiar voice howled over the intercom. Far below the skies on the broken shore Commander Kagrenac had lead his men to the front of the battle. A military genius to his own accord but he was proud and stubborn. They saw the Pridewind in the sky, they saw the smoke, yet they still had hope that we could control the air.Destrey5 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 [RP]A Challenge With Pride ((30 mins late on RP day FeelsBadMan! I wasn't going to write anything for RP day but I had some free time while rendering videos and clips for Hurricane 3 so here's a rushed story. I know I suck. Advice is appreciated)) Tiny droplets pierced through the worn linen robe grasped around the human who cherished it. The jade forest was known for its magnificent rainfall; the kind of rainfall one would frolic through without so much as a worry. The kind that highlighted the beauty of anything it touched. The kind that could inspire epiphanies and sweep negative emotions away. A jade forest rainfall was one to be savoured. The robed human wandered across the monastery with a smooth, steady pace met with an equally smooth expression of determination upon his dark-haired face. The pandaren have grown accustomed to allowing other races into their culture. Would this have been years ago when Pandaria was first discovered, the human would certainly have had more eyes and questions directed at him as he passed each pandaren in his path. Upon reaching the center training pit within the monastery, the robed human postured himself and placed both hands on his hips, absorbing the sound of combat only a few feet away from his position. To his left, he witnessed patriarchs instructing training exercises to at least a dozen students of different races. To his right he would see another group of students practising techniques against hung training bags. After a few moments of reminiscing his training exercises in Scarlet Monastery, the human approached the nearest monk he thought would be a patriarch. "Excuse me, are you one of the patriarchs here?" "Yes, I am one of them. You may join us if you would like to learn." The robed human cleared his throat as if insulted to be looked at as a novice at first glance. Changing his posture and facial expression to a more imposing look, the human responded in a more serious tone. "My name is Louis. I have travelled far from the Eastern Kingdoms to find others to defeat. I figured Tian Monastery would be the best place to visit first in Pandaria." The elven patriarch smirked with a sense of pride, feeling an obligation to hold up the reputation of the very monastery that changed his life. The elf believed in the spirit of competition and self confidence, but he also knew the dangers of pride. The memory of Garrosh Hellscream entered his mind, followed by the horrors of what had occurred within the Vale of Eternal Blossoms and Orgrimmar in recent years. No - the elf would not let pride overcome him. He would accept this human's challenge not out of pride for defending his monastery's reputation, but for the spirit of competition and as a lesson to the human: To be courteous and humble; not overconfident and prideful. "If a challenge is what you seek, then let me guide you." The elf guided the human to a larger and more open training pit. Entering the pits center, they distanced themselves in preparation for their upcoming duel. "I must admit, I did not expect my first opponent to be blind. You don't have to do this you know." The blind elf could see right through his act. His concern for the elf was easily overshadowed by his ego. "But I do. The gods grant me this opportunity to teach you a lesson. I shall not fail them." As he spoke he adjusted his footwork on the slick, wet stone beneath him. His feet were distanced and his arms were extended in front of him with his left leg and arm being extended further and higher than his right counterparts. "Please." the elf stated followed by a bow. It was common practice to show respect to opponents by starting a duel with a bow and word of manner. "And what lesson is that, patriarch?" asked the human, intrigued with what the elf was playing at. The human positioned himself in a very different fashion. His legs were distanced but not extended. His handwork was also of a different nature. Instead of extending his hands in front of him, he held them closer to his chest, waving them in a sphere-like motion as if he were a mage caressing a magical orb. When he was ready, he bowed to the elf and replied, "Please." As the two exchanged their bows, the elf answered the human's question. "That in order to conquer your opponents, you must first conquer yourself." Immediately following his words, the human lunged toward him with a flying kick which he managed to avoid by rolling out of danger. Once the two monks faced each other, the elf returned the same look of determination the human gave him at the beginning of their conversation. Meeting within the center of the pit, the two monks exchanged punches and kicks which each parried and dodged with effort. As the two began to tire from the constant strikes and parries, more hits began to land against each other. When the human monk took a tiger palm to the chest which pushed him back a few feet from his opponent, he took a moment to catch his breath.Nightwind5 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 [RP] A leaf on the wind. ((WARNING: This story is crazy long! I got REALLY into this and even added some follow up which I'll link later for anyone wanting to read more. ENJOY!)) Crunch, crunch, crunch. The sound of loose stale dirt underneath heavy boots was the only sound made between the two Kaldorei women walking down the uneven path. The sun had barely begun to set, yet as the two pressed on less and less light seeped through the canopies of webbing which seemed endless. Thankfully, the two had not yet encountered any of the giant spinners that created them. Skyriver's keen ears strained to hear anything other than the increasing pounding of her own heart. She glanced over at Euphoria who kept her gaze dead ahead, her expression placid but her cobalt eyes darted back and forth. Skyriver couldn't help but fixate on the puffs of cold air escaping Euphoria's nostrils with every step she took and wondered if she benefitted from breathing or if it was just a reflex from when she was alive. Her mind continued to wander in the silence. She kept returning her gaze to Euphoria, she looked so natural in this surrounding. Weathered plate armor and an enormous axe affixed to her back. At a moments notice, Euphoria could have that blade out and half way through a body. She was made for dangerous places like this. But not Skyriver, she was tailor made for temples and elegant dresses. Only meant to operate from the back lines. To hear the stories of how wounds were inflicted as she was healing them, not seeing them made much less inflicting them herself. Yet she insisted on going on this mission to prove she wasn't weak and that she could handle what this new land threw at her. If Euphoria could do it, so could she. "Calm down, I can hear your heartbeat from here." Euphoria's voice shattered the silence, making Sky jump a little. "And while you're at it, slow your breathing, it's distracting." She hadn't even realized it, but she was pacing her breaths with Euphoria's. Skyriver snapped her attention back to the broadening path. Euphoria hoisted her axe onto her shoulder, the hilt making an audible clang against her heavy shoulderplate. "Why are we going here alone again?" the Deathknight groaned. Sky rolled her eyes, hoping Euphie wouldn't see. "We got a tip that an artifact of great interest to the legion is not far, so it's imperative that we locate it before they do. And we're not alone, Tahatan is scouting ahead so we don't miss it." she pointed a single finger skyward. "We should have sent Rem instead." Euphie replied flatly. "You know I don't like you bringing that...thing around." Sky huffed. "A Val'kyre would do wonders better than a pet bird! There could be demons hiding anywhere that would love to feast on fel-fried owl. With Rem our lookout would be safe. Can't kill what's already dead." Euph exclaimed. "At least she can talk." she mumbled under her breath. "Just bring out the map and make sure we're on the right path. It's easy to get lost here." Sky dismissed Euphie's snarky remark. "You mean the Doom map?" Euphie's lips curled into a sly smile. "It's MarDUM not MarDoom. For someone who's supposed to be the eldest, you certainly are childish." Sky rolled her eyes hoping Euphie saw. Euphie flicked the crinkled paper, "Immature? It literally says 'The DOOM Fortress'! Look!" she continued to tap the parchment. Sky waved her hand, again dismissing her sister's attitude. "It makes no difference, just make sure we're in the right place." Euphie pursed her lips and looked at the map. "Yeah, we're on track. And for someone who is supposed to be the little sister, you sure are a bossy little...." A sharp cry pierced the air, prompting both women to stop and look skyward. Down swooped an almost ethereal silver feathered owl, landing noiselessly on Skyriver's extended arm. His head bobbed up and down, hooting exactly twice. Skyriver smiled and patted Tahatan's head. "Well done. See? You talk in your own way." She cooed at the bird. She reached into a small sack attached to her waist and produced a handful of seed which the bird eagerly feasted on. The two resumed their journey. "Care to share? I don't exactly speak owl." Euphoria seemed annoyed. "He is indicating that what we are looking for is not far." Skyriver stated matter-of-factly, her eyes never straying from the owl still gluttonously consuming the seed from her hand. "That's specific." Euphie rolled her eyes. "It makes sense to me and that's the important part. Why don't you lighten up and trust me for once?" Skyriver furrowed her brow, her eyes still locked on the bird. Her hands clenched. She felt so angry all of a sudden. If she looked at Euphie, she was afraid she might explode. She could feel her eyes welling up in frustration. "You always treat me like I can't do things. I know what I'm doing!"Skyriver8 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 [RP] The End The rain that day came without warning. As the droplets splashed into the ash that saturated the air and ground below, a lone warrior stood in a field of corpses. The shrieks of the dying and approaching vultures the only thing audible. The clanging of steel against steel and the thuds of weapon into raw flesh had disappeared. Days of fighting and this lone warrior could barely muster the strength to stand on his own. Using his spears as makeshift crutches, he pulled himself across the field. Blood oozes from a neck wound, still he pushes on. Years past rushed through his wracked mind, his psyche so broken he finds it impossible to discern memory from reality. He remembers the triumph and victory of past battles in Ashenvale. He remember the faces of his comrades and clan mates but can not put names to their fading images. He remembers their betrayal. The rope tightening around his neck as he overlooked what was once his camp, his territory, his home. "Is this how it ends for me?" He remembers Kala'jin, Zolkor, and a host of others. His feelings of bitterness and hate interrupted by a jolt of pain that brings him back to the reality that he is dying as he treks across this field of death. This orc reaches down and rips the tabard of a fallen dwarf and presses it as hard as he is able to. The mere motion of bending over has made him dizzy and his lack of strength has made it hard to apply pressure. He looks down at this dead dwarf ... a people his kind long warred with. This day, he was the lesser of two evils. The Iron Legion had sent out a contigent of Bleeding Hollow to ambush an Alliance convoy in the heart of Tanaan when Agrar and his small band of warriors intercepted them. "What a shame to have to fall to dishonorable foe as the Bleeding Hollow, I'm sure you deserved better, dwarf ..." Agrar thought as he continued on, tripping over the dismembered leg of an orc. Agrar has lost so much blood that he begins to see spots. He falls back to memories past once again. He remembers the Order of the Kaldorei, Stone Talon, and the Blacktooth Grin. He remembers the gifted raptors from Gor'Watha, the Kingship, Dragonmaw, and the battles in the Hinterlands where so many of his own were lost to fate. He remembers his defection from the secret society, the many failed attempts on his life, and his unique relationship with a draenei woman. Faces of a monk from the swamp, friends once enemies, and an odd dancing bear race through his mind. Agrar realizes that this is the end but he looks back on past memories with pride instead of fear of what's to come. He fought his hardest, he did his best, and even standing alone - he fought until the end. He lived like an orc was expected to. The orc drops one spear, the other he clutches to his chest as he falls to his back. With one hand, he removes his skull mask and looks to the sky as rain continues to fall on his face and body, taking his last breath he mutters his final words. "It ... was ... worth ... it"Agrar15 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 The Infernal Rain [RP Day short storyLEGION} This is short and fun...since my characters are by far from heroes just normal people that are background characters for the RP day prompt AU character Death} The sky grey, heavily clouded and flashing with green lighting, when it happened. The stone like creatures fell from the sky, and the members of the horde and alliance ceased their fighting with each other to combat the greater demonic threat that rained all over azeroth. Galeynth couldn't help but chuckle a moment as he watched one of the meteor like construcks hit the ground and bulldoze over a squadron of gnomes lead by Tigglespark Greenwrench, the only alliance he had bothered to learn the name of due to the rampant pain she caused him over the years. "serves her right...!@#$ing rabid rabbit throwing gnome!" Galeynth paused as a rumble behind him was heard and turned around in time to see one of the meteorites pull other stones together, in the form of a demonic infernal raising his arm over Galenth..."Oh %^-*..." as the arm fell hard crushing the forsaken beneath it.Galeynth3 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 [A]<Winter Raven Melody> Formal Introduction? “No!” Highlord Tirion Fordring slammed his plated gauntlet on the table. Across from the Paladin was seated a nobleman adorned in fine clothing. The posh garb belied the noble’s fit build and wary eyes; he was not as unassuming as he might seem. “For the last time, Gyleston, I will not authorize the Crusade to do such things! I listened to your request for an audience in Hearthglen because of your generosity and support for the Dawn and then the Crusade, but that does not mean I have to acquiesce to your demands!” Gyleston leaned forward, eyes locked with Tirion. “No, you do not… have… to…” he said with a tinge of exasperation, “but it is in our, all of Azeroth’s, best interest if you did. What kind of precedence are you setting with your inaction? You allow Sylvanas to reintroduce the plague, on your own doorstep no less!” Tirion clenched his jaw in frustration. This was not the first time his “generous sponsor” had pushed him towards war with the Horde. When he spoke, it was with no small amount of irritation, “The Argent Crusade is not affiliated with the Alliance. You know that, and you agreed that was not an issue. What would you have me do? Risk the peace between the Alliance and the Horde?” “I wonder, Tirion, if you would have been so inclined to complacency if Arthas had claimed want peace while he was building his army. There’s no difference between the two of them! We may as well start calling her the ‘Lich Queen’ instead of the ‘Banshee Queen’”, Gyleston said with a snarl. “After his sacrifice, what would Bolvar say if-” The Paladin interrupted with a roar, “Do not speak to me of Bolvar! Bolvar…” Tirion paused, then looked at Gyleston inquisitively, with no small amount of curiousity, “How do you know of what Bolvar did?” With a wry smile, “There are members of the Ashen Verdict who agree with me. As I was saying, what would Bolvar say if he knew you were allowing this Lich Queen to do whatever she willed? What if the Legion returns, establishes a foothold then tells the Crusade it wants peace. Would you sit idly by as they, too, coalesce for our annihilation?” “It is precisely because of the threat of the Legion that we must be reticent regarding any hasty actions against our Horde allies! If the Legion returns, the forces of the Alliance might not be enough.” Gyleston rolled his eyes. “If there was no Horde to waste our time and energy on, we could very well repel the Legion on our own. Besides, the eradication of the Horde is not what I’m proposing. Well, not all the Horde, at least. It is not a task I take lightly, my friend.” Gyleston stood with a sigh. “I know now what I must do.” He put his hand on Tirion’s shoulder. “I must do what you can…. no… what you will not. Azeroth must be saved, from any and all threats... “ with that, Gyleston turned to leave. Tirion sat back in his chair with a sigh. “What is it, exactly, that you are planning?” “A reckoning, my friend. The reckoning of darkness.”Wheaton10 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 Need some weekend giggles? (( For those of you who venture to my side of the woods but don't use Twitter, you probably missed the announcement. Over at my forum, we are playing some Valentines Weekend Games that are a Q&A format for the members. Some of the answers are hilarious and you'd be surprised (so far) who people remember being tied to Kittylicious in some way. The correct answers wont be shown until Sunday evening but in the mean time, feel free to take a gander in the General Forum, or if you're a member, jump on in and take a guess. Brightpaw is up for grabs! ))Stablemare16 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 Alliance Heroic Archimonde Price. Looking to see how much Heroic Archimonde kills are on Alliance side.Kilroen3 Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 [RP] Maybe Next Time ((I didn't proof it, also I don't know what the prompt for this RP day is but everyone seems to be dying in a Legion-time so that's what I went with.)) It’s nothing like Pandaria, the untamed mists unfolding like paper swans and delicate blossoms before their war machine; no, this time it’s loud and chaotic, war and fel, the sky alight with sickly greens and nuclear waste. Even Draenor hadn’t been this way, the jungle humidity clinging to their skin as tools of war as familiar as the back of his hand mowed down the massive, horrible gate. He still remembered Sarjen curling around him, shrapnel embedded in the knight’s armor like so many bloody crystals. The push was as haphazard as the name of the land suggested. He had thrown up only twice on the way over, head between his knees, braid pooled on the warped, vibrating floor of the zeppelin. His men knew of his weak stomach, he played it up as the usual – but he had seen the skies and felt the tingle tickle the fuzz on his skin. Demons, fel-drenched and sadistic – more than they could count, more than they could possibly hope to face. He wretched bile into a bucket he stole from a cabin boy, tucked into a corner as secluded as he could find in such a packed ship. He smeared paint across his eyes, dark enough to hide the bags. The beach was bloody when their lines dropped. Several dozen soldiers blasted across the way as the fel flames caught the twine of their ropes, flinging them like ants on a vine. The mud squelched between his toes, the onslaught starting as soon as he touched the ground. Boisterous lies abandoned several yards above with the menders and the mages – the makeshift ground troops stood no chance, they simply bought time for the real armies of the Horde and Alliance to muster. He slipped on a girl with an eyepatch just like his sister's, driving her corpse deeper into the muck as a several-armed monstrosity bore down upon him. The deadly curves of his elven blades raised in defense, the sound of everything disappeared from the world. Losing ground, backsliding, drifting deeper off-shore, toward the thick of it. No Warband to back him up, no Sarjen to save him. Only the knife plunged into his back, assailant unseen; the demon turned, abated as blood bubbled from his lips, smeared across his hands as he fell to his knees. The color matched the scales of the sunfish that swam beneath their dock, he thought as he crashed onto his side. He couldn’t feel his legs, though the slime against his face was mildly irritating. A rough hand rolled him over, though he couldn’t quite say how long it had been, heavy-lidded eyes and incommunicable words on his useless lips. It looked like an orc he had known once, an ancient terror of shadows that licked underneath his doorframe, but he couldn’t quite remember; some warning flared in his failing stomach, misfired pistons of flight. The axe that removed the old orc’s head looked familiar too, attached to his misleading paladin. The gleaming tower flung its helmet across the field, rusted red hair askew. He could smile, maybe, but maybe not. He always smiled when he saw that hair, but he couldn’t quite remember how. Maybe it would come back to him. An eyepatch broke into his field of vision, separating him from the safety of something just on the tip of his tongue. Hand on his shoulders, rolling him back onto his side. Another hand on his back, numb sensation of vines, maybe; couldn’t they stop shoving his face into the mud? The eyepatch was saying something, something loud and wild and wrong, something wrong, but he didn’t quite care anymore. The silver-armored man ripped the eyepatch out of the way, maybe, the scales of the sunfish all over his face. Was it the sunfish this time, or had he gotten carried away with some pretty young men on the outskirts of a town he couldn’t quite remember? At least he was out of the mud now, but everything was drifting. The—Taz. Taz, Taz, Taz was pulling Um away from something, away from danger like distress flares behind his eyes. That much he saw before Sarjen, his Sarjen, smothered him against unbending plate. He’d mind his tusk snapping from the force of it if he could just make himself feel it. More broken words than he had heard in years, incomprehensible against his hair and his neck, hand against dead lips. That face was out of sight, that hair disappeared now. Dead weight folded over him; sliding back into the mud, just enough. He couldn’t see much now, the shadowed edges of dented breastplate swallowed him whole, but he saw the great road stretching before him, felt the stones and dirt beneath his feet. It blurred and phased, swirling with the red and silver that covered him from east to west, and he knew that Sarjen had the audacity to have gotten here moments before him.Juzmik8 Feb 13, 2016