Twilight Patrols ((Closed/Structured RP)) 3

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
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“So, what now?” Barthius said it with an almost bored tone, watching as the Patrol’s members disperse and trudged off in their respective directions.

“It is certainly not ze same as Northrend,” Iranda’s statement mirrored Vimmi’s, and it lingered in her mind for quite a while longer before Sylvanora finally spoke.

“I don’t know… For now just go back into the Temple and rest, maybe see if the ruckus finally woke Barzulo up and tell him off for overdoing it. Gretta, will you be alright? I need some time to think about things other than my maps vanishing,” the orc nodded, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Iranda bent over to help Barthius back up.

“I will need some time to cool off, perhaps fly for a while to be left alone with my thoughts,” Brent made a cat-like sound, his swishing behind him lazily as he looked up at his rider and friend.

“Bin mog g'thazag cha urik kagg lak’tuk,” Sylvanora liked to think that her grasp of orcish was enough to get the basic idea of most phrases, but this one completely lost her. She didn’t ask however, because whatever he had said, it had the effect of softening Gretta’s gaze a bit. The Wing Commander nodded.

“Thank you, friends,” the orc nodded in return, then she and Brent set off in the direction of the planes surrounding the Temple.

“Alright, let’s get Barsthiaz back inside,”

“Yes please, I would appreciate that. Those rockflayer-like things over there don’t look too friendly,”

“You shouldn’t have rushed out without your staff, you dolt,” Sylvanora snarked, getting a laugh as a response as she threaded an arm around the high elf on his side that wasn’t already occupied by Iranda, and the two of them helped him back inside. She stopped for a moment at the top of the steps however, almost causing them to trip up Vearakus, who had been following in his goblin guise following a nod of acknowledgment to Waraila.

“You did well, Meep, much better than I could have,” the gnome didn’t look like she wanted company however, so the three of them continued on in silence.

Vearakus, however, stayed put. Either ignoring or not comprehending the non-verbal communication to leave Vimmi alone, he turned back and sat down on the step about a metre away from the gnome, watching as Gretta and Brent took off. He didn’t say anything, or even look in the Commander’s direction.

He just knew that she just needed someone to be there, nothing more. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

Turle's head tilted to the side as Varonus approached and spoke his bit. He almost chuckled at the "deeply connected" but instead just shook his head and hid a smile. If every single patrol memeber didn't lurk around Vimmi for hours on end, their relationship might've still been a secret. There was no telling by now who knew or was on the verge of knowing. At this point, Turle simply didn't care. Vimmi needed him and he wasn't going to shy away from it just because of something so trivial.

He was about to say something but Waraila appeared and decided to re-approach Vimmi with the idea of getting rest. Judging by the way Vimmi was looking off into the distance, the druidess' words were going in one ear and out the other. No, she wasn't going to rest, not anymore tonight. As much as Turle hated that fact, there was little he could do to change it aside from bashing her over the head.

The Gnome sighed, once again they were finally alone, but now this time Vimmi was suggesting that it was -he- who needed to go off and rest. He fixed his gaze on her and offered a small smile. "You're right, I probably do need to sleep. Since you aren't, I'll need my strength when you come crashing down off that potion you down so wildly." He smirked at her and turned to head back towards the temple.

He stopped though, there was a sound of her plunking down on a rock. Instead of heading for the temple, he took a few steps back and there was another sound. The warrior lay himself down off to the side of Vimmi, his head resting against her legs as he stared off into the distance. "Complain all you want, I'm not moving. Don't even try and force me either or I'll have to show you how I earned the rank of Captain, woman." He chuckled and let his eye drift shut as he tried to drown out everything arpind. There was only Vimmi and him, that was all he needed.
Malak had stepped back out into the main Temple area and saw the last bits of Ein's scuffle as well as the Commander's conversation with the druidess and others. He watched as the group started to disperse to smaller groups or to individuals. Malak couldn't really understand the dynamics that held them together, it was as if they sought peace through war. Malak shook his head at the thought, the very idea of trying to obtain peace through violence was laughable considering you made enemies through violence.

Malak found himself completely confused as to what the Patrol really was, its true goals and purpose on Azeroth. The questions continued to nag at him so much that he shook his head and slowly approached the Commander, he wasn't a shy person but nor was he one to invite possible punishment. He wasn't sure how the druidess had explained his hand in Ithalin's situation. But then Malak realized he didn't care too much and so shrugged his shoulders as he approached the Commander.

Using the same form of salute he had previously, the right fist held over breast, Malak bowed his head slightly before squatting down. He realized he was still in Worgen form but decided not to change, remaining in his true form suited his desires at the present. "Commander, I have questions that need answers as well as a request." Malak's voice was rough and deep, showing his years of torment and suffering; both that he had received and dealt. He stared directly at the Commander's face, no signs of his previous arrogance or predatory looks upon his face.

"What does this Patrol, that you seem to give your lifeblood to hold together represent? What is its purpose? I have heard you and others, who seem veterans among this group, speak of peace even when war besets the world and you. I myself have witnessed the true nature of mortals and yet here you sit attempting, I believe, to seek peace? Pray-tell explain to me what it is this Patrol is that I may understand." Malak then stopped talking, let his eyes wander away from the Commander. Only a few had ever heard the Worgen speak so many words and they had proven themselves worthy of hearing them prior to the event.

Here though Malak was divulging questions that he could barely answer about his own purpose, his own goals. Asking guidance from one he barely knew and who only appeared to have seen as much death and chaos as he had. But Malak supposed that it was that assumption, that belief that allowed Malak to voice these questions to the Commander. She seemed to know of the darkness that he had witnessed and been victim to. Maybe she might shed some light upon the dark recesses of his conscious and help him divine the answers to his own questions. 'Silver always said that a mercenary with a conscious was oxy-moronic...' Malak thought dryly to himself, knowing that his comrades in the Void were getting a laugh out of his fate.
Varonus sat upon a rocky outcropping suspended above Vimmi and Turle as the two conversed, or more so Turle lingering around Vimmi whom didn't seem in the mood to talk to anyone. Even after Waralia approached and attempted to convince her to rest the gnome didn't budge an inch; she was a stalwart one.. perhaps stubborn would be a more accurate word.

The mage was relatively out of sight for those directly below the peninsula he perched himself on, simply waiting for the patrol to finish their business with the commander. Still with so many people wanting to speak to her and no doubt her patience wearing thin he questioned if he should trouble her at all.

He simply sat still, before taking note of the darkly clad warrior, whom the others called Fenris, approached her as well. He could make out clearly what the man was saying.

"...I myself have witnessed the true nature of mortals and yet here you sit attempting, I believe, to seek peace? Pray-tell explain to me what it is this Patrol is that I may understand."

For a moment the mage felt tempted to answer the question himself, as to give Vimmi and Turle time away from being battered with questions and concerns from the others. He momentarily cast his gaze to the earthen temple and gave a soft sigh before finally speaking, not directing his gaze to the warrior or the others, as if he was speaking to the world.

"The Patrol has served as a reminder to those in power that old grudges and racial hatred are a detriment to our world as a whole," he answered, "Dis-unification only serves to weaken and impede both progress and the defense of the world if all efforts and supplies are being used to continue a meaningless war. The Patrol stands as a melting pot of all kinds who only have the greater good in mind, not meaningless conflicts of the past. In Northrend we were a small force, only capable of dealing with situations the bulk of the Horde and the Alliance could not while battling with Arthas, yet through our combined might and collection of unique skills we accomplished more than entire armies had been able to."

"Yet even though we were a strong force the lack of "respect" and "loyalty" to either faction earned us a great deal of spite, and so we were branded as traitors at the end of the Northrend Wars, when those in power no longer saw reason to let the Patrol remain."

He adjusted his seating position, crossing his legs idly as he continued to stare off, "Now we are no longer a group that works in the shadows, we are taking this fight to the heart of the opposition whilst entire nations crumble in on themselves in the chaos and grabs for power. We are not loyal to anyone except Azeroth herself and we are not heroes in the eyes of the public. We are our own faction."

That was probably the longest the mage had ever spoken in recent memory to anyone who had known him during the times in Northrend. Little did Varonus ever show emotion or passion, but the Patrol was something he truly and unquestionably believed in; it and all those within it are the only things he had ever truly been loyal to.

"Forgive the intrusion," he spoke plainly, "I felt the commander and her companion were growing tired of the interruptions and felt I should answer your question, Fenris." still he did not direct his attention to the warrior or the two gnomes, still staring off at the temple in content, clearly thinking deeply over a matter.

Sai's look of confusion was replaced with one of faint annoyance when she heard what the Arakkoa had to say. 'I know what it is, feather-brain.' She thought, her words reverberating in the minds of both Lowmaine and Kethrilk. 'And I'm Sairdna. I was just wondering what was going on.' Kneeling beside Low, the Mage studied the plans she had made. 'Impressive work.' She said, studying the blueprint. 'Who is this for?' Her eyes took in the parchment, studying each minute detail, ideas already forming in her mind.


Grish stared down at the remains of the drake, frowning. His thoughts were a maelstrom of activity, swirling around his head in a frenzy of disorder. At the center of this rending storm one thought stood; You need to rest.
Shaking his head, the Druid trudged into the Temple, slowly making his way to one of the small alcoves within. Sitting down, he closed his eyes and began to monitor his own breathing. Seven counts in, hold for seven, seven counts out. Seven counts in....


What are you thinking? Vi asked Varonus. Her voice was in his mind, though it seemed to pull his attention to his left. Were he to look that way, he would spot a transparent-looking High Elf. The Elf wore a simple white robe, on which faint silver runes could be seen. Short-cropped red hair hung loose around her head, framing her face. One would think the figure young, were it not for her eyes. The silver orbs seemed to posses an intensity and intelligence that only one who had seen the world over many long years would have.
I'm Varsuvius. Vi for short. The figure tilted its head, considering Varonus.

Impressive work.' She said, studying the blueprint. 'Who is this for?'

The warrior chuckles and states quite bluntly, "Well Sairdna, the male gnome asked for a weapon, an' I'm giving him the sword-to-end-all-swords since Lia's so busy 'elpin' make some armor for the Commander." She grins a bit at the Arakkoa and the Elf's would-be confused looks and points at the area of the blueprint where she's designed the blade mechanism. "See, check this out: I'm basing it around the idea of a curved and heavy edge like a scimitar; normally the blade'll be heavy enough to hew through stuff, but I figure since we're in a place where giant-freakin'-rock-worms can rip outta the ground at a moment's notice, it might be better to use somethin' with a bit more bite to it." She tries not to chuckle at her own pun. Gotta write some-a this stuff down sometimes...

"Best part though is, I realize ya don't need the cuttin' edge all the time; same with not needin' the saw bit either so..." she points to what would be the area of a flat, dull side of a typical sword, where a large box-like covering is present, "So this part covers the chainsaw bit, and when it's activated the power from the internal motor powers this panel to cover the blade. Since it requires ya ta use it the opposite way, so to speak, I figger there's a chance for operator death should his weapon be parried on something and pushed back...and Light knows I can't let that be happenin'."

She turns to the Arakkoa and winks slyly, "An' I never said ya said anythin' about sufferin', bud. Even still, I like to be sure people are aware who they're dealin' with. So, I don't think I've introduced myself. Name's McCormack; Lowmaine McCormack. Friends call me Low. Enemies usually call me a torrent of other not-so-nice things." She absent-mindedly flicks a beaded charm on one of her dreadlocks, and then says, "Not to be rude, but it ain't everyday I see one o' yer kind around, so what's an Arakkoa doin' outside'a Terrokar, much less in Deepholm?"
The night wore on and Wulf managed to drift off to sleep a few hours, waking suddenly at the sound of metal being worked. She frowned slightly and wished she were still in the regular world. The smell of trees and the sound of water washing over rocks was all she needed to have a good sound sleep. Turning over she noticed members of this Patrol, as they called themselves, were busy doing some kind of smithing.

Knowing she would probably not sleep anymore, she got up and cleaned her area and left it spotless. Grabbing a skin of water and some trail bread, she stuffed it in her backpack and walked out to the entry of the Temple. The smell of sulfur mixed with the other metallic fragrances filled the air. Wulf looked around and saw the gnome warrior and a few others sitting on some rocks.

Thinking they were discussing some kind of strategy for their purpose here, she changed into her stormcrow form and took to the air. Rising on the heated air to a level a ways above them she spotted someone sitting on a ledge. She circled around a few moments and watched the exchange.

She heard the man say some things about the Patrol, and her curiousity got the better of her. Flying close to the mage she hovered in the air in front of him for a moment before settling on a rock close by on the ledge. Her blueblack feathers ruffled and she stared at him with the startling oddity of one amber colored eye and one blue. In her rough crow voice she squawked "May I join you?" her head tilted in curiousity and the intelligence in her eyes shone brightly.

As Bralla saw the Gnomish woman drag the Death Knight up that small flight of stairs leading into the temple, she couldn't help but bare a bit of a grin. The more she heard from this gnome, the more she realized that the legends may be true after all. She's heard of the Borean Patrol; who in the Alliance hadn't by now? They had been rotating as a rumor through the ranks of returning Alliance troops coming home to roost from the frozen continent of Northrend; a force to be reckoned with that didn't bother with the chain of command in the Alliance or the Horde, and had member races of both.

Her mind is snapped briefly out of the Commander's impassioned (and tired sounding) speech as she feels a tug at the corners of her mind and body; it's a dull pain that feels like it's centered in her chest. Her ears pick up what sounds like far off, faded out crying and she knows this as the Earth. Here in the realm of Deepholm, the earth's cries are heard much clearer than on Azeroth proper, and as such she can almost feel the tear in the world in her very core, as if she's been sundered herself.

She puts a hand over her heart and sighs. Suddenly a thought hits her: the Earthen Ring is going about this the wrong way. Having their best and brightest stand around maintaining themselves as substitutes for the World Pillar? Who was going to get it back, hmm? Who was going to make sure that the Earthen Ring didn't need to station people here permanently?

Flashes go through her mind as the pain in her chest amplifies; fire, chaos and death everywhere. Nowhere is safe. Ironforge, Stormwind, Darnassus...all wither and burn. Orgrimmar, Thunder Bluff, Silvermoon, and even the Undercity all perish. In the end, Bralla's soul cries out in anguish with the spirits of the earth as the vision culminates in the source of the pain; a large, almost super-massive dragon of purely Titanic proportions covered in metal plates as large as a battleship. She knows him by many names, but only one will suffice for now: Deathwing, the Destroyer.

The elements of fire rage as they consume the forests, jungles, deserts and icecaps of Azeroth's surface, as the Destroyer roams its surface, charring everything to an unrecognizable state. She can hear whispers of things older than Azeroth itself in the vision, and finally her eyes snap back to the real world and the mortal plane; everything is completely normal, save her being covered in a cold sweat. Were her ancestors trying to tell her something? They almost certainly were, and the dwarf wasn't one to shirk her responsibilities...if these people weren't successful, Azeroth was going to burn.

The gnome turns and walks away after breaking up this latest action, shouting at the rest of the group and Bralla's head rotates around, seeing that they are actually, really, listening. This indeed must be the Vimmi Spannershield she's heard so much about over the last few months since Northrend. As the group disperses and the gnome (escorted by a male one with green hair), and she sees them set themselves down on a rocky outcropping overlooking the temple.

Bralla gathers her thoughts and nods her head once to herself, her jaw set in a determined fashion. She follows them up to their seat, seeing a worgen warrior towering over her nearby, as well as a bird that to anybody with a brain was a Druid's alternate form. She nods her head at the two, catching the Commander's eye and stating quite simply, “Um, hi. Lissen, I know yer probably not in the mood, but...well...” she pushes her ruby quartz glasses up on her nose. “I'd like to join up. Effective immediately. I ain' exactly healer but...well, somethin' tells me if I don' be goin' with ya, I might as well take up permanent residence here, 'cuz dere won't be much lefta Azeroth.”
Lia & Perfection

Lia watched the gnomeish Commander leave with a slight sigh, things were just piling up on the small woman's shoulders, which made the Sin'dorei woman wander how she is able to cope with it all, such things would most likely crush a weaker being if they didn't have the heart for it. But Vimmi, she seems to have brushed everything off as if it were just mere dust on her shoulder, and Lia admired that.

With that in mind, she walked off back towards the forge area.

There were some new arrivals in the forge area, and Perfection had been ignoring them for the time being. Emotions were running though the woman like a endless river, the days event's shocked, angered, and saddened her....if there was one emotion she would pick..well..she couldn't, there were just so many.

The Assassin looked up as Lia walked into the room and pulled off a part of the cloth that covered the Commanders new gear. It was the helm, Lia stared at it for a while before covering it up and walking back over to the girl "So..." she began, her voice calm "...What do you have to say for yourself, hm?"

Perfection chuckled "That Ithalin was a idiot and he deserved everything he gets?" she looked up from her her claw bracers with what Lia knew was a amused expression. She smacked the girl across the head, earning a "Hey!" and a angry glare, which made Lia smirk with amusement in turn "Besides tha--Actually, never mind....stay out of trouble next time, Okay?" she poked the girl in the head with two fingers.

Perfection grumbled before casting her gaze towards the Commander's gear, then to the Bone Witches gear "So what happens now? We finished their gear..." she asked the warrioress, looking up at her with a blank expression. Lia looked over to Low working while talking to a....Arakkoa? and the other Blood elf "Well, there is still Low's gear....wait here"

She walked over to the the trio and looked at the blue-prints for the sword that Low was making "Nice...looks good. In any case, do you have those armor pieces in basic shapes yet? I really want to get all of this done and over with now....after all of this drama happened" She adjusted her scythe a bit before crossing her arms and waiting for the warrior's response.


Coron watched from a distance, he watched the whole proceedings take place while gathering as much information as he could...not for the SI:7, but for himself. As stated before, he was done with the SI:7 and was now going to take on the true task of why he joined up with the SI:7 in the first place.

To join the Patrol.

Before he did this, however, he needed to see if this Commander Vimmi was the Commander he had heard so much about. Sure, the group that she spoke to actually listened to what she said, but that still left him wanting more...half fed if you would like to call it.

He watched the Commander walk off, and thought it would have been the perfect opportunity to speak with the small woman alone, but then she saw a male gnome walk after her and sighed. He watched as not only the gnome went after her, so did another Druid, then what seemed to be a mage...then a shaman...aaannnddd then another Druid.

The Druid of the Talon sighed in his armored raven form, tucking his wings in and watching from a safe distance away as he waited for a chance I might be here for hours.....who knows...I don't even know what to say to this Commander anyway....well, besides 'Duel Me'...that wont be enough...I got to think of something more than just two words

Core kept thinking about it from there on.
The elf's long ears perked up at the first voice; turning his head toward it to place his gaze upon the astral image of a High Elf, apparently speaking to him through his mind. Blinking at the ghostly figure, Varonus turned his head back to looking over the rocky expanses, pulling his hood down and revealing his face.

"The commander is weary and I felt it necessary to detract further interruptions from her. Besides, that is how I feel about the Patrol." he stayed silent a moment before turning to her again, "Varonus. Varonus Lor'dinan. Pleasure, miss Varsuvius."

Yet again, the mage heard a second female voice (Though this one more squaky than the other) from the other side of him. He turned his attention to the druidess, who had apparently taken the form of a crow, perched beside him. He shrugged nonchalantly and adjusted his seating again; leaning back on one hand and laying the other arm over his raised knee.

"If you wish to, feel free. I'm sure you heard my introduction to miss Vi here. Who might you be then?"

01/15/2012 04:16 AMPosted by Liå
She walked over to the the trio and looked at the blue-prints for the sword that Low was making "Nice...looks good. In any case, do you have those armor pieces in basic shapes yet? I really want to get all of this done and over with now....after all of this drama happened" She adjusted her scythe a bit before crossing her arms and waiting for the warrior's response.

The warrior nods at Lia and stands, pointing off towards where she's housed the shapes of the armor she built up off to the side; . "Yeah, they're over there ready to be worked on; they should be cool to the touch by now." She looks over at Perfection and gives her a somewhat sympathetic look "S'alright Backstabber; for what it's worth I was hoping Commander would blow his brains out with that fancy gun-arm o' hers...which reminds me, I wouldn' mind gettin' a look at how that little piece of kit works..." She then grins at Lia sheepishly and holds her hands up in mock self-defense, "Please don't hit me, the alcohol's already done enough brain damage over the years."

She regards Sairdna and the Arakkoa, grinning again saying "You could say that's been a personal problem over the years...what can I say? Stormwind doesn't give very good veteran's benefits." She ends her sentence with a chuckle.

((short post is short, going to bed!))
Despite everything, there was nothing Vimmi could do to stop herself smiling as her equally as stubborn Gnomish partner hit the ground next to her with a thud. She looked down upon his face, upon his perfect-broken damaged eye, upon his steely determination. She knew she couldn't get him to rest, but she also didn't want to force him, in fact she would happily spend her time with him sitting here... ten fathoms under the world, with all its weight pressing down upon her.

“And I would show you where I earned my title,” she returned back at him with a wink, her voice having lost -all- strength, reduced to something one could not immediately associate with the commanding tone present normally. As she spoke, she reached down to stroke her fingers through his hair, but stopped immediately upon doing so, looking dismally down at her mechanical arm. All flavour of intimacy would be lost with such an aberration.

This is what she had become, a machine of war with only one purpose to fulfill. She stared into her arm with lost eyes for a long moment. This was her choice, and everything had been thrust upon her at once leaving her no more time for consideration. She danced the line and she knew it, one false step from death every day and all for a losing battle. And even when it was all over, what could she return to, what would her -purpose- be? She had sacrificed everything, there was nothing left to live with once this was all over.

Almost nothing...

“I feel like I'm grasping at smoke Turle,” she spoke meekly, “Every action I take is sliding backwards down a hill and the momentum is too much to stop.” She stopped at that comment to listen to the words of Varonus above, as he explained what the patrol was to Fenris. She stayed silent for a long moment and stared off into space as he finished. She clenched her teeth with an odd determination, Varonus had just proved that people still did understand what their purpose was.

“We're not just mercenaries,” she muttered, before nudging Turle with her foot and standing from the rock. “I'm done sitting around, if you don't want to rest you can accompany me working the forge, I'm going to grant those in there rest and make use of my inability to sleep. If you -are- going to rest then at least sleep in a tent,” As she stood she regarded the latest inquirer, who despite having been answered by Varonus, still deserved an answer from the woman he had requested it from.

“We are the Borean Patrol, we do whatever it takes to defend Azeroth from the evils that seek to destroy her. Neither factional distrust nor personal agenda get in the way of our ultimate goal, within us there is no Horde and there is no Alliance. We fight because there is no one else that will, we fight because we have to, because we do not have a choice.” She moved her mechanical arm around on its joints as she spoke, “If you wish to be a part of this group, you must forsake all bonds and vows that tie you to your previous life. You are a soldier of the Borean Patrol now, your one duty is the defense of Azeroth and the defeat of evil.”

Vimmi then walked past him, regarding the next in line for conversation. Those talking with her would notice that she did not -seem- tired, due to the effects of the potion. However her eyes were sunken and exhausted, she didn't quite look at you as she did look through you and in all regards seemed like she should be a ghost walking rather than a living being. Her next target of conversation was the Earthen Ring shaman that had aided in subduing Ithalin.

“As you can tell, I've had some issues with new recruits. Being the very few people willing to work to save the world rather than kill each other leaves my options, rather limited.” She frowned as she spoke, knowing that her recruitment cycle basically consisted of inviting everyone to the Barrens and then telling them they were in and proceeding to kill people. She cringed inwardly at the memory, before continuing.

“You are in, but as you've seen with the other member of my group, if you disobey my orders...” she lifted up and regarded her mechanical arm, “There's at least three buttons I haven't tried on this thing yet...”

With that comment, she walked past Bralla and down back to the Temple of the Earth. She walked straight in and spoke briefly with one of the ranked shaman, making an agreement to talk later about important subjects. With that done, she followed the sound of smithing and found her way over to those in the forge and sighed.

“Lia,” she spoke, “You should get some rest. We need armour too, but I need you ready and capable for combat. You're one of my strongest melee fighters,” she motioned to the forge, “I'm no expert, but I can handle basic armour and weapons. I'll smelt you some bars, or hammer out some shapes for you, if you don't want to sleep at least let me be your assistant for the night. I cannot sleep so don't even bother trying to convince me.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” she asked, actually looking forward to losing herself in activity rather than slumping in her mind.

In her crow form, Wulfsong regarded the man with her odd eyes. "I am Wulfsong, I am a druid of the Talon, I am curious about this Patrol. Your words make them seem heroic and noble, but I have also heard of the destruction and chaos they leave behind." her gaze shifts to that of the ghostly figure of the woman. The image fades in and out and Wulf is not sure she sees a vision or a lost spirit.

"Is that a friend of yours? I do not know if I am seeing things or if that is a lost spirit..." the woman seems to be floating and flickering at the edge of Wulf's mind. The druid was not sure if the spirit was friendly or just appearing to Varonus for some reason. In any case, she decided to merely sit there and converse with the mage and if the spirit spoke to her she would answer.

Wulf was reluctant to disturb the gnome at the moment. It seemed almost cruel how they all depended on her to the point where she could not get rest. "I wish to know more and you seem to have information. I miss the surface...the trees and the calm of the forest...but I am here to help the Earthen Ring. I have a duty to protect and serve them...I have not served the Alliance in many years. Their methods are often so destructive and volatile they do more harm than good." she ruffles her blue feathers and preens a bit, something she often does in her bird form. It probably does not impress the mage and she knows she should shift to her elven form.

With a critical eye to her surroundings, Wulf moves on the ledge to where she has room and her shape shimmers in the dim light. There is a crackling of magic and a distinct puff of mystic energy. In the place where a crow sat on the rocks, a night elf with long black hair and slim but shapely figure now sat. Her leather armor was fitted closely to her and covered her with modest and comfortable utility. The glitter of dragonscale appeared on her wrists and boots. A dagger on one side of her belt seemed to be her only weapon. Turning to him with her amber and blue eyes, she smiles slightly, "I hope this is all right, I am off duty at the moment and I find it hard to sleep in the bowels of the earth myself. I am concerned for the gnome...she drives herself too hard...this is a harsh environment." her voice is soft and musical as elves often are.

Lynara lowered her bow slowly as the Commander spoke. Placing her arrow in her quiver and her bow back on her back. “As you command, Commander.” She spoke almost silently. These death knights had infuriated her. Their very existence was a crime against the Goddess, but them continuing to attempt to spread the curse of Undeath was even worse.

She watched as some went after Vimmi, but Lynara had another problem; she was almost out of arrows. She walked to the forge to see Lia, Angi, and Low working on stuff. “Excuse me ladies.” She said ignoring the bird man. “I seem to be running out of arrows and am curious if there would be extra materials so I could make more arrow heads.” She said.

Then Vimmi came into the Forge. “Ah, Hello Commander, if you have spare time you can always help me make arrow heads. I only have eight arrows left.” She said.
Malak stared after the gnome, her words sounded so much like a man he had looked up to a long time ago. Malak stood and shifted into his human form, staring down at his black clad hands a single tear threatening to fall down his cheek. How far he had come from the wild beast that he had been in Gilneas where the Legion found him. His mind swept back to those days as he closed his eyes to keep the tears in his eyes...

"Why the f*ck did ya bring this dog afore me huh?" A giant of a man was shouting, a cigar sticking out of his mouth as he crossed his arms and crouched down to look at the black furred Worgen before him. "We watched him cut through an entire Forsaken platoon, ain't no mean feat Cap'm." Another said, standing tall and looking the giant, Captain Alexander Markov in the eye. Fenris stared through hard eyes at the man looking at him. "Huh, Forsaken ain't hard to beat; however this one got that fire. Get 'im some armor and bring 'im back to me." Alexander then walked away, smoke rising over his shoulder in wispy spirals...

"Fenris lemme tell y ou somethin', we ain't your run of the muck mercenaries. We don't just fight for any side who can pay us; we fight because we believe in the cause." Alexander said, his customary cigar sittin on the edge of his mouth as he stared down at the Legion's latest recruit. Fenris chuckled at that, "So you fight for money and yet you don't fight for money? I don't give a sh*t about a cause all I care about is getting to fight." Fenris' voice was cold, his months of torture at the hands of his fellow Gilneans still fresh in his mind. Alexander slammed his hand down on the table and stood, his chair falling over; "Damn you and your f*cking need to spill blood! If you are apart of this Legion you are going to do it the right way! What's the f*cking point of fighting if there isn't a cause?! You don't just fight to fight! You fight because deep down you have a reason! Find it and then you can fight with us."

Malak opened his eyes, his head still bowed as he stared down at his hands, clenching them into fists Malak looked up again. "Your one duty is the defense of Azeroth and the defeat of evil.” The phrase stuck with Malak as he turned the words over in his head, was he not that evil? Were they not part of that perpetuating darkness, because they used violence to solve it? Malak shook his head as he turned his back on the Commander and Varonus, "Peace is a lie..." Malak muttered as he turned to look up at Varonus and the other night elf with him. "Tell me elf, how long have you served with the Commander? She appears to have been through much and yet maintains idealism even in the face of utter chaos. Peace is a lie, there is only passion..." Malak let it trail off, unsure how they would respond to the code he lived by.

He had found it from listening to his old comrades advice; Malak didn't fight just for the sake of fighting. He fought to be set free from his chains, the Gilnean rubbing his wrists as he thought about chains. He had broken his physical chains long ago when he had escaped the dungeons of Gilneas. But he was still chained figuratively, his demons still haunted him and until he defeated them or until he was defeated he would be forever chained. Malak nodded his head as he came to understand why he would now serve the Patrol. They would bring him ever closer to defeating his demons or being vanquished in the process.
Looking down at the worgen in sympathy, Wulf tried to find words, "I am not in the Patrol, I am merely seeking information on them....if perhaps you are unsure of yourself and what you are...then it is up to you to discover...acceptance of your true self is the beginning."

Wulf thought long and hard about what she was, it had taken her many years to find her true calling. It was a process that was both painful and rewarding. Wulf watches as the gnome heads back into the Temple, obviously she is too strung out on false energy to rest. She would go and work, or spar...or somehow keep active, causing her body to slowly deteriorate into a shell of what she could be.

It was not good and Wulf knew the gnome would pay for her disregard for her body's need for rest. The rest of the Patrol seemed resigned to doing the same thing, and it troubled the druid. How could they possibly expect to get anything worthwhile done if they refused to rest and give their bodies time to recuperate?

Turning to the mage she shrugged and decided to go into the Temple and try to talk some sense into the gnome. "I am going to go and talk to this Spannershield and see if I can at least help her to recover some of her strength. Thanks for letting me share your ledge." she smiled at him and then resumed her stormcrow form in a mystic energy cloud and flew off towards the Temple.

The Shamans were busy conferring on how they would handle Ithalin, and Wulf did not want to disturb them. Flying in on silent wings of ebony, Wulf circled the Temple until she spotted the gnome at the forge. There were others there as well and she could see they still would not allow the poor gnome space to relax and rest.

The swirl of dark feathers landed close to the forge and Wulf squawked as she landed, deciding to do some listening forst before she approached the gnome. Her clawed talons made a soft clicking sound as she hopped and fluttered closer to the gnome and where she was working. The elves and a human woman were working diligently on some armor and the Arrakoa seemed to be doing something, she was not sure what.

Wulf found a rack close by and settled on it. Ruffling her feathers and spreading her wings in an effort to cool off a bit. The forge area was very warm and stuffy, with sparks flying as the hammers struck metal. Wulf watched them for a bit then made a squawking comment in her crow voice, "It is really hard to get any rest around here...with all this racket...are you intending on working for the next ten hours on armor and weapons with out letting anyone sleep?"
Lia & Perfection

Lia nodded at Low before taking the pieces of smooth armor and plopping them on the table. She inspected them for a moment, checking the make sure that they were not going to crack or split while she worked on them. When she was satisfied, she set to work. She managed to make the chest piece, shoulder pads and helm with relative ease, she even took some art into her mind and made the shoulder pads and helm look like raven heads.

She turned to the Night Elf warrior who came in to ask about arrows "Go talk to low, she is handling most of the weapons today" she smirked before getting back to work.

Seeing as the obsidian was mostly black, she thought making them Raven looking would be a awesome idea...but she had to made the pads look symmetrical and helm still being able to protect it's wielder. She was about to finish the set off with the gloves, leggigns and boots until an unexpected visitor arrived.

Commander Vimmi Spannersheild.

She lowered her hammer and smiled at the woman "Your offer is most generous, and I am honored that you would ask such a thing of me, but I don't plan on resting just yet" she went over to the forge and pulled on a rope so that more air could get to the coals of the forge and heat it up. The soft light illuminated her face "If there is something that you wish to help me with...I want to smelt off the rest of this Elementium or and turn them into bars to take it with us, in case they come in handy for anything."

She took one of the now cool crystal jugs the from large basin of water and placed it down. She then showed Vimmi how it was done, by putting chucks of elementium ore into the jug, before taking the large metal tongs and lifting to place it on the heat of the white hot coals "There is a special stairs next to the forge for what I believe is for shorter people such as you and other gnomes and I think you can easily manage"

Perfection coughed and Lia looked up to see that she had scooted close to the Commanders new armor set with a happy and sweet smile on her face. At least she is not sad anymore... she though thankfully before turning back to the Commander "Now...before I forbid you, as your follower and warrior, I beg of you to at least wait...for I have a present for you" she grinned slyly before walking over to the covered armor on the table.

First, she placed a stepping stool for the Commander in case she couldn't see the armor properly before ripping off the cover to reveal the elementium set and shield, the runes glowing brightly in the light of the forge. She picked up the shield to show the Commander the Symbol of the Patrol. Emrad, Lia's small black smith companion, crawled up onto the woman's head and make a small 'Skree skree!' noise.

Perfection took note of the Druidess in the form of the Stormcrow with a gaze that screamed "Don't even bother at this point....". Lia would wait for the Commander's response there and then, hopping that she would at least be cheered up by this and forget the doom and gloom that has happened.
At the crow's question, he turns his head to the astral image shimmering next to him, "This is Varsuvius.. I do not know her myself," he shrugged slightly before noting the crow's shift back to elven form. Nodding to her, "I can try to assist you if I am able to; I am not very connected to much else other than the Patrol. But I will give you any information I can.. and if you are able to help the commander, I'm sure many would appreciate it." he nods to her as she flies off, shifting his seating position as Fenris regarded him again.

"To your question, warrior, I've been with the Patrol and Spannershield since Northrend. While I joined them late in their journey I am well aware of the Patrol's true purpose," the warrior seemed to believe that peace would not be a goal they could reach, and he looked down to him plainly, "With forces of darkness attacking Azeroth there is no 'peace' that can resolve the conflict. Deathwing is an entity that can only be diverted through ultimate destruction. We all stand for a peaceful future, but our purpose now is to defend this planet by any means necessary; without letting past grievances hinder our strength."

"Yes, the commander has been through much, but she still has the true purpose of the Patrol in her mind; it is the fruits of her labor and brave leadership. Though we are supposed 'traitors' we can't let that detract from what we all believe in and what we want to fight for." he finally finished, sighing lightly as he still sat stagnant, watching several group members make their way into the temple.

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