Flying around as a Stormcrow is great, but the lack of a saddle bags makes collect herbs at best undignified. Even more so when you are doing it in Stormpeaks in the dead of night. There is something about a crow with a 6 ft wingspan flying about picking herbs and stuffing them into a satchel being carried in both feet, all the while trying to fight off the shivers caused by the winds screaming past the craggy peaks that make up the entire region. Needless to say, this did not put me in the best of moods to begin with. And then you have the gnome.
Let me be clear, I hate the little warren rats. They are clearly a highly evolved version of the cockroach, only more annoying and far far more disgusting. But when I am trying to make the bank from herbs, I am normally inclined to leave them in peace. There are however things that require swift and sure retribution. One of them being collecting herbs in the same location as myself.
So there I was, gliding down to a particularly nice looking patch of Lichbloom doing my best to ignore the ear damaging thuds of the Goblin Chisels being used nearby. Maybe it was the noise of the explosives, maybe it was just about time for me to go find a decent bed, but I missed the gnome standing right inside it. That is, until the little runt tossed a mix of pepper and more noxious things into my eyes, gathered the choicest bit of the rare plant, and sauntered away laughing at the whole spectacle.
First, he takes my herb. Second , he laughs at me. Third he walks away, shaking the garish red cape of his all the while. Any of which would guarantee him a swift, sure death or my name is not Ray D. Buol. This was clearly a time to make an example of him, luckily I had the makings for a campsite with me.
I make no claims of being a master of the more bestial aspects of my calling, but it is NOT that hard to follow a gnomes through snow with a felines senses. Itty bitty boot prints and the smell of ink, grease and whatever they think passes for cologne combine to make a stench even a Forsaken would be hard pressed to miss. Creeping slowly along, I tail the foul little creature deep into the Titan complex.
Once I hear the sounds of the high pitched squealing that could be mistaken for whistling, if it was coming from the lips of anything OTHER then a gnome, I knew I had him. He was stretched out, peering over a console, puzzling at the strange symbols used by the Titans. Slowly as not to make the slightest sound, I crossed the patterned tiles to stand in a polished circle a short distance from the the console. So engrossed in his examination, the gnomes failed to register the slight sound as I shifted my form into that of one of the Moonkin. So his first “warning†was a bolt of pure starfire lancing down from above his head. My roar of triumph was less awe inspiring then I could have wished, hard to make someones blood run cold when you are limited to squawks. I almost pitied the little *******, even as I was sizing up his skull for a shot glass. The second blast of starfire staggered him. His little body was smashed up against the console by the brutal blast of typhoon wind I summoned. The sound of his fading, labored breathing is to this day a fond memory.
The moment was however spoiled by the sounds of the Titan created console turning on. I was puzzled for a moment, before my eyes settled on the gnome shaped impression in the front of the console. Things just were not going well for me.
In hindsight, just standing there was rather stupid. On par with failing to dodge giant waves of lava, or avoiding giant glowing circles on the ground. Before I knew it, the circle upon which I had rained down sweet sweet destruction was filled with blinding light and I found myself somewhere else.
It was warm. Balmy summer night in Mulgore warm. Any happiness associated with that memory was swept aside by the strange stars in a strange sky. And the smell of unwashed, sweaty humans. Maybe 20 of them camped within 50 yards. Normally I would say that I was as scared of them as they were of me, and I likely would have if it wasn't for the fact that all of them were wearing red dyed armor. I hate red. It makes me want to kill things. Lots of things. Red is almost as bad as gnomes.
I would never dream of sullying my mouth with uttering Common, but I can at least identify it. And what ever these humans' were speaking, it wasn't Common. I was so shocked by the comical reaction of these pale skins that I let me concentration waver, and I revered to my native form. Which if anything made them grovel even more.
It had been a long day, and I was hungry. Figuring these humans were not much of a threat, I mean their clothes were of a quality that I had long ceased to use for anything other then perhaps to wipe my ***. I walked over to the spitted animal, slicing off a piece of it's hindquarters and stuffing it into my mouth. It was juicy, a bit like kodo meat in texture but with a very different flavor. The humans were looking at me with abject shock. I looked over and noticed that the still attracted head of the creature was not so different from my own. I shrugged my shoulders, sliced off several of more pieces of the roast. I chewed and swallowed them as I moved to the center of their camp. I raised my hands, shifted my form once more into that of a moonkin. They gathered closer, in their ignorance. Maybe they thought I was about to bless them, or something of that nature.
The small blasts of starfire began just as the storm I summoned blasted apart everything around me. I let the storm run on for several seconds, turning their carcasses into seared bones. Seeing my handy work I slipped back into my native skin, knelt down by the nearest blacked skeleton and said,â€Moo.â€
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#153
Apr 23 2009 at 10:59 AM
2 posts
Wolf became an echoing song of radiant pulsating light within the dark. Bending the will of those cold sanguine walls to a motive far beyond their intended purpose. The night the demons came, this little cub was dropped into the family's well by the last moments of love and what hasted protection his father could muster amongst the demonic assault upon Haggerfel. Trapped within the stone walls, a chamber of prophecy perhaps, but the mold within which this life and song would be formed. Forced to endure the reverberating sound of all that he loved tormented and silenced within a moons passing. Small in stature but great in heart, this village of dwarves was no match for the evil strength and lumbering malice the demonic horde possessed. But Wolf had enacted a resolution that morning, floating in the cold water. Never again would demons find courage to roam the dark like they had, never again wallowing in the freedom of anarchy and wreckless evil. They would now find the night carried a song that would blind their eyes, deafen their ears, and wrench their misbegotten existence from their master's hands. Wolf grew strong on his resolve, claiming the path of sword and song, in the mist and sun of the mountains, and the deepest shadows of night, the Skald grew in victorious strides. Upon his 50th season within the lands of Midgard, this life-creed took him to the place where the ravens dare not fly, where night loses all sanity, the hell-torn portals of Darkness Falls. With a speed and skill beyond the flinch, vanquishing all familiars, Lords, and the many of Legion. There lay the final open door to which Wolf knew not his destination. But through love, hope, courage, of which many songs are song, to the justice deserved by the innocent, Wolf stepped through and awoke in the sands of Stygia. A realm vastly unlike his beloved Midgard, he arose to challenge the heart of the deepest dark..these snakes and scorpions that dare call themselves gods...
#154
Apr 23 2009 at 11:01 AM
Samira noticed a new portal stone in the Plane of Knowledge. The markings were unfamiliar, and strangely exciting. "I wonder where this goes," she thought....
In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.
#155
Apr 23 2009 at 11:30 AM
The Ogre named Guggulam was a fearsome sight to behold. His hair was a slick blond, kept back so as to never hinder his sight, and his eyes were a deep merciless black; as black as his heart, and the soul of his omnipotent overlord, Lucan D'Lere. His demeanor was as merciless as his eyes, and he had no qualms about killing anyone who dared disrespect him or his master. He was loyal, as were all of Rallosian's Sons, and every action was to further his master's dark designs.
Guggulam was currently continuing his journey through the recently rediscovered homeland of the Iksar and Sarnak ilk, Kunark. He had been doing what he usually did, beating creatures to death with the brute strength of his hands and arms. He wasn't picky about who he helped, as long as the pay was good and he got to kill something. His most recent assignment was the slaying of the Rillisian Cabalists, to stop them from continuing the Scale Rot curse upon the Balthezid Watch Sarnaks. He had just arrived at their camp, deep within the Swamp of No Hope, and was preparing the assault.
As he Mantis Leapt to his opponent to deliver a Hundred Hand punch, his favorite preemptive strike, he noticed something odd. The cabalists were not defending themselves, albeit the fierce attack quickly felling their brother. They merely watched his actions and said nothing. Guggulam noticed this and merely guffawed in his deep voice. This mission will be a piece of cake, he thought to himself. As he chose a second target, an unfounded sense of shadowy dread fell upon him. Quickly, he realized they were attempting to curse him with their foul black magic, but to what affect he did not know.
This realization caused Guggulam's temper to flare, the anger overriding the sense of acute fear, and lent him strength akin to that of a berserker. He began the assault, but faltered, as the still present fear dissipated and turned into something else. His strength left him, and he fell to his knees with a gasp. A great pain entered his body, as if his flesh was being flayed from his bones, and he screamed despite his militant training and great tolerance for pain. Nothing thus far could compare to the mind rending pain caused by the now forgotten Rillisian Cabalists. As the pain reached a crescendo, Guggulam passed out, unashamed of such a weakling action, as the pain was that great.
As Guggulam awoke, he noticed the pain had faded to a dull pain in the base of his neck. The first thing he noticed as he regained consciousness was the replacement of the marshy grass of the Swamp with gravel, as of a road, or a slave pit. He groaned and attempted to stand upon his great strengthed legs. As he did so he noticed a difference immediately. While he retained his great strength and keen mind, his body had been altered. He no longer was of the superior race of Rallos Zek the Warlord. He looked human; but pale and strong, akin to the Halasians of Norrath.
As he was attempting to regain his bearings in his new form he heard a voice, "Hail, Cimmerian, where go thee." He looked around noticing the strange land as he did, and focused on the bearer of the voice. He looked human as well, albeit smaller and not as physically imposing. He had a longsword sheathed with a shield on his back, his hand upon the hilt of the blade as he awaited an answer to his hail, and was wearing a full suit of chainmail, all his equipment created from the same unknown metal.
"W-where am I? What land is this," Guggulam asked, proud his voice held steady despite his confusion and fear. "Where did those foul Cabalists take me?! Return me or I shall destroy thee!"
"Ye are on the northern boarder of Aquilonia, southern border of your Cimmerian homeland, and I know not what is ment by Cabalists, Cimmerian, but if 'tis magic ye speak of, perhaps you need seek Stygia far to the south for whatever you require. Also, no offense intended, but keep a civil tongue before I cut it out. Nowhere in the world of Hyboria will this Aquilonian take lip from a Barbarian like you!"
Guggulam was immediately furious, grabbing the two-handed sword strapped to his back, he hadn't noticed it previously in his confusion, and wielded it with great skill, although he had no prior knowledge of blades from his past life as a Bruiser. He let loose a fierce battle roar and charged the steel-clad human. The sudden aggresion didn't seem to surprise the human, and he drew his sword and shield in one quick motion, prepared, but underestimating the ogre turned human. The first strike clove the shield in half, despite it being metal, and shattered his opponent's arm. Fear blossomed in the eyes of the impertinent human mere seconds before he was sheared from neck to groin.
Guggulam may have entered a bloodlust, but he knew when to stop. As his opponent fell, he turned his mind to what had been said previously. He had to find this land of Stygia if what was said is true. If these newland erudites could truly return him home, he had no other choice but to find them. He turned south and began walking.
(edit for spelling and grammar mistakes)
Edited, Apr 23rd 2009 8:48pm by snarlinarlen
Guggulam was currently continuing his journey through the recently rediscovered homeland of the Iksar and Sarnak ilk, Kunark. He had been doing what he usually did, beating creatures to death with the brute strength of his hands and arms. He wasn't picky about who he helped, as long as the pay was good and he got to kill something. His most recent assignment was the slaying of the Rillisian Cabalists, to stop them from continuing the Scale Rot curse upon the Balthezid Watch Sarnaks. He had just arrived at their camp, deep within the Swamp of No Hope, and was preparing the assault.
As he Mantis Leapt to his opponent to deliver a Hundred Hand punch, his favorite preemptive strike, he noticed something odd. The cabalists were not defending themselves, albeit the fierce attack quickly felling their brother. They merely watched his actions and said nothing. Guggulam noticed this and merely guffawed in his deep voice. This mission will be a piece of cake, he thought to himself. As he chose a second target, an unfounded sense of shadowy dread fell upon him. Quickly, he realized they were attempting to curse him with their foul black magic, but to what affect he did not know.
This realization caused Guggulam's temper to flare, the anger overriding the sense of acute fear, and lent him strength akin to that of a berserker. He began the assault, but faltered, as the still present fear dissipated and turned into something else. His strength left him, and he fell to his knees with a gasp. A great pain entered his body, as if his flesh was being flayed from his bones, and he screamed despite his militant training and great tolerance for pain. Nothing thus far could compare to the mind rending pain caused by the now forgotten Rillisian Cabalists. As the pain reached a crescendo, Guggulam passed out, unashamed of such a weakling action, as the pain was that great.
As Guggulam awoke, he noticed the pain had faded to a dull pain in the base of his neck. The first thing he noticed as he regained consciousness was the replacement of the marshy grass of the Swamp with gravel, as of a road, or a slave pit. He groaned and attempted to stand upon his great strengthed legs. As he did so he noticed a difference immediately. While he retained his great strength and keen mind, his body had been altered. He no longer was of the superior race of Rallos Zek the Warlord. He looked human; but pale and strong, akin to the Halasians of Norrath.
As he was attempting to regain his bearings in his new form he heard a voice, "Hail, Cimmerian, where go thee." He looked around noticing the strange land as he did, and focused on the bearer of the voice. He looked human as well, albeit smaller and not as physically imposing. He had a longsword sheathed with a shield on his back, his hand upon the hilt of the blade as he awaited an answer to his hail, and was wearing a full suit of chainmail, all his equipment created from the same unknown metal.
"W-where am I? What land is this," Guggulam asked, proud his voice held steady despite his confusion and fear. "Where did those foul Cabalists take me?! Return me or I shall destroy thee!"
"Ye are on the northern boarder of Aquilonia, southern border of your Cimmerian homeland, and I know not what is ment by Cabalists, Cimmerian, but if 'tis magic ye speak of, perhaps you need seek Stygia far to the south for whatever you require. Also, no offense intended, but keep a civil tongue before I cut it out. Nowhere in the world of Hyboria will this Aquilonian take lip from a Barbarian like you!"
Guggulam was immediately furious, grabbing the two-handed sword strapped to his back, he hadn't noticed it previously in his confusion, and wielded it with great skill, although he had no prior knowledge of blades from his past life as a Bruiser. He let loose a fierce battle roar and charged the steel-clad human. The sudden aggresion didn't seem to surprise the human, and he drew his sword and shield in one quick motion, prepared, but underestimating the ogre turned human. The first strike clove the shield in half, despite it being metal, and shattered his opponent's arm. Fear blossomed in the eyes of the impertinent human mere seconds before he was sheared from neck to groin.
Guggulam may have entered a bloodlust, but he knew when to stop. As his opponent fell, he turned his mind to what had been said previously. He had to find this land of Stygia if what was said is true. If these newland erudites could truly return him home, he had no other choice but to find them. He turned south and began walking.
(edit for spelling and grammar mistakes)
Edited, Apr 23rd 2009 8:48pm by snarlinarlen
#156
Apr 23 2009 at 11:46 AM
2 posts
Born in the slums of Freeport, Scampy was, even by port standards, the scum of the scum. The Ratonga are not a well liked breed. We are known for a smell that, legend has it, has knocked birds out of mid flight. My mother told me it was a defense mechanism, but to be honest, I just think we do not bath much.
As I grew in my lessons, it was clear to me that while I was born into this dark and horrid place, I did not belong... I was always different, always looking at the frogloks and thinking they were hot.
So, it was thanksgiving, and I announced that I was coming out of the den, that I was in love with a froglok names Steve, and that we were moving in together in his apartment. My mother started crying. Dad just got up and walked out of the room. I could hear mom in the other room, "Why, did I hug him to hard?". I tried to come to her, but she looked at me and said, "I do not know who you are, where is the little pink rat that stole my heart?", she yelled. "I should have eaten you when I had the chance!" I tried to explain that my love is not wrong, and that this war was dumb... I had crossed the line, my father came into the room and pointed at the door, "You will not speak ill of your people, this war was of their making, and I will not have my... my SON slander the greatness that is Freeport. I want you out!"
That is the last I saw of my dad. Mom would meet me here and there, sneaking away while dad was at work.
Now, I had a choose... in order to be with the froglok I loved I needed to betray my city, and my parents.
I did what I had to do. Soon after we moved in together it became clear that my parents were half right, the gods did make Adam and Eve, not Scampy and Steve. No, really, it was Steve, he was a neat freak, and I am not sure if you know this, but I was a Ratonga, and we are known to be messy people. After about 4 months, Steve and I split up, I moved into a house down the street and started hanging out at an outsiders bar over by the docks. I made money defending the Queen, and, well, and other things...
Being one of the only rats in Qeynos and having my fill of frogloks, I packed my apartment up and headed to the portal. I needed something new, something that was not so, so CLEAN. I had heard of a place where the world needed my skills, and filth was everywhere! Pointing my nose towards Hyboria, and my tail to Qeyons, I headed west... and somehow, I washed up on the shore... time to find me a froglok!
As I grew in my lessons, it was clear to me that while I was born into this dark and horrid place, I did not belong... I was always different, always looking at the frogloks and thinking they were hot.
So, it was thanksgiving, and I announced that I was coming out of the den, that I was in love with a froglok names Steve, and that we were moving in together in his apartment. My mother started crying. Dad just got up and walked out of the room. I could hear mom in the other room, "Why, did I hug him to hard?". I tried to come to her, but she looked at me and said, "I do not know who you are, where is the little pink rat that stole my heart?", she yelled. "I should have eaten you when I had the chance!" I tried to explain that my love is not wrong, and that this war was dumb... I had crossed the line, my father came into the room and pointed at the door, "You will not speak ill of your people, this war was of their making, and I will not have my... my SON slander the greatness that is Freeport. I want you out!"
That is the last I saw of my dad. Mom would meet me here and there, sneaking away while dad was at work.
Now, I had a choose... in order to be with the froglok I loved I needed to betray my city, and my parents.
I did what I had to do. Soon after we moved in together it became clear that my parents were half right, the gods did make Adam and Eve, not Scampy and Steve. No, really, it was Steve, he was a neat freak, and I am not sure if you know this, but I was a Ratonga, and we are known to be messy people. After about 4 months, Steve and I split up, I moved into a house down the street and started hanging out at an outsiders bar over by the docks. I made money defending the Queen, and, well, and other things...
Being one of the only rats in Qeynos and having my fill of frogloks, I packed my apartment up and headed to the portal. I needed something new, something that was not so, so CLEAN. I had heard of a place where the world needed my skills, and filth was everywhere! Pointing my nose towards Hyboria, and my tail to Qeyons, I headed west... and somehow, I washed up on the shore... time to find me a froglok!
#158
Apr 23 2009 at 12:05 PM
1 post
Orious sighed inwardly, quietly proclaiming "Time to prepare for yet another test of skill in the arena". The event has seemed to lose its luster over the past several hundred match's. However, one must do what is necessary for glory. Begrudgingly, he began to summon a minion to accompany him on his endeavor.
"Perhaps this demon will at least have a sense of humor", he thought to himself. His attentions distracted while performing the summoning ritual, he neglected to notice the approaching figure from behind.
With the summoning nearly complete Orious began to take stock of his surroundings. This is when he finally noticed the approaching rogue, all but two steps away from him and quickly approaching. Sudden panic gripped him to his very soul, or would have had he actually had one. Amidst his fear a sudden thought sprang to his mind, teleport. In the blink of an eye, Orious disappeared.
No one knows what exactly happened that day. Perhaps it was because a part of the demon portal was still open. Perhaps the demonic circle was placed upon a portion of Azeroth left unstable from the battles with the Old Gods. All that is known is that Orious never appeared at the runed circle upon that barren patch of ground.
Turning quickly to confront his enemy Orious was greeted to a grand new sight. "What is this place?"
"Perhaps this demon will at least have a sense of humor", he thought to himself. His attentions distracted while performing the summoning ritual, he neglected to notice the approaching figure from behind.
With the summoning nearly complete Orious began to take stock of his surroundings. This is when he finally noticed the approaching rogue, all but two steps away from him and quickly approaching. Sudden panic gripped him to his very soul, or would have had he actually had one. Amidst his fear a sudden thought sprang to his mind, teleport. In the blink of an eye, Orious disappeared.
No one knows what exactly happened that day. Perhaps it was because a part of the demon portal was still open. Perhaps the demonic circle was placed upon a portion of Azeroth left unstable from the battles with the Old Gods. All that is known is that Orious never appeared at the runed circle upon that barren patch of ground.
Turning quickly to confront his enemy Orious was greeted to a grand new sight. "What is this place?"
#159
Apr 23 2009 at 12:10 PM
I arrived in Hyboria much the same as I arrive every other place I visit.
In a deep blue police box.
One may wonder the physic required for this, but it's easier just to say a wizard did it. A wizard that occasionally goes "PthDing! and does stuff.
In a deep blue police box.
One may wonder the physic required for this, but it's easier just to say a wizard did it. A wizard that occasionally goes "PthDing! and does stuff.
Just as Planned.
#160
Apr 23 2009 at 1:50 PM
1 post
A story of Lolothebunny, a death knight sworn to protect Stormwind and King Varian.
So there I was in the inn at Goldshire. Dreaming, dreaming forever. I wanted to wake up, I was trying to wake up, but the powers that be, known only as a Blizzard, would not let me. Not until late in the afternoon, 5:00pm PDT.
Awake, to a brand new day. Like a new born, I had to learn everything all over again. Teaching my runeblade to dance again, after all those ballroom lessons, was tiresome. However I was ready, I even had a double major in Frost. Time to defend my king and defeat the Horde and take over the fortress at Wintergrasp.
My heart raced as I stepped into the portal, reinforcements were scarce, but we were fierce, tenacious even. I could see the crumbling fortress walls as I approached, this would be a grand victory indeed.
I joined up with a siege on the east wall, and began the push into the innermost circle of the fortress.
That is when everything changed.
My mind was growing slow, I swung my blade, at least I thought I swung my blade. My enemy just stood there. Then a sensation of falling, the ground was no where to be seen. The walls of the fortress in the sky, as though they were clouds.
Endless falling, is this my doom?
--------------------------------------------------------
As I open my eyes, I see lush landscapes. My eyes begin to focus and I see the stains of war, blood like I have never seen before. My eyes hurt from the detail before me. Surely this is not Azeroth.
Where am I? What am I to do here?
So there I was in the inn at Goldshire. Dreaming, dreaming forever. I wanted to wake up, I was trying to wake up, but the powers that be, known only as a Blizzard, would not let me. Not until late in the afternoon, 5:00pm PDT.
Awake, to a brand new day. Like a new born, I had to learn everything all over again. Teaching my runeblade to dance again, after all those ballroom lessons, was tiresome. However I was ready, I even had a double major in Frost. Time to defend my king and defeat the Horde and take over the fortress at Wintergrasp.
My heart raced as I stepped into the portal, reinforcements were scarce, but we were fierce, tenacious even. I could see the crumbling fortress walls as I approached, this would be a grand victory indeed.
I joined up with a siege on the east wall, and began the push into the innermost circle of the fortress.
That is when everything changed.
My mind was growing slow, I swung my blade, at least I thought I swung my blade. My enemy just stood there. Then a sensation of falling, the ground was no where to be seen. The walls of the fortress in the sky, as though they were clouds.
Endless falling, is this my doom?
--------------------------------------------------------
As I open my eyes, I see lush landscapes. My eyes begin to focus and I see the stains of war, blood like I have never seen before. My eyes hurt from the detail before me. Surely this is not Azeroth.
Where am I? What am I to do here?
#161
Apr 23 2009 at 4:22 PM
"Carrie, behind you!" Alatariel screamed as he lifted his shield to thwart away the blade that was careening towards his torso. The large blue crab turned away from it's now incapacitated victim to see the next of wave of demons rushing into the bloodbath. Carrie's carapace cracked and bristled as a metallic sheen glossed over it, her claws clicking in anticipation for their next meal.
Alatariel swung his axe into the neck of the sword-wielding demon and pulled it out, the wound belching blood. The demon howled an unearthly scream as it fell to the body-ridden floor. Alatariel leaped through the waste he and his crab familiar had laid to stand by her side as more demons rushed through the gate.
"Just another day in Purgonorgo Isle, eh, Carrie?" Alatariel said through a grin, his chest rising and falling as his lungs fought their own battle. The crab turned her stalks up to look at her master and offered a nod, clicking her claws in agreement.
Alatariel felt an unearthly presence materializing behind him. He turned his head to see shadows crawling towards the throne, the crystals behind the throne pulsating with an otherworldly glow. His courage was suddenly drained and his heart fell in his chest. He could sense the immense power that was gathering.
"Carrie," he whispered. "I think we might be in trouble."
The demons poured into the room, cackling and screaming their demon laughter as they formed a semi-circle around their victims. To them, the outcome of this battle had been decided.
Their master had arrived.
The shadows gathered at the base of the throne and piled on top of each other until their collected presence built the form of the Shadow Lord. The shadows solidified, turning into hard muscle. Lightning rushed through his skin, shadows pouring out of his onyx eyes.
"Foolish mortal," the Shadow Lord hissed. "Your end is nigh."
Waves of energy poured forth from the Shadow Lord. The demons behind Alatariel and Carrie began to close in. There wasn't much left to do.
"Get 'em, Carrie! I'll deal with this dustcloud myself!" Alatariel shouted.
Alatariel pulled his arm back, axe in hand, and sent it flying as though it were a boomerang towards the Shadow Lord -- but the Shadow Lord was quicker. He cocked his head to the side, allowing the axe to fly safely passed his head. The blade of the axe crashed into one of the crystals behind him before it flew back into Alatariel's hand.
There was a moment of silence as the crystal that was struck ebbed it's inner light weakly.
A crack had formed, and it was slowing journeying up the crystal. The crystal split in twain. It's inner light exploded, flooding the room. The only sound was the pounding of a hundred feet as all of the demons rushed to evacuate the throne room while the Shadow Lord screamed.
"You've shattered a crystal! You insolent rat! You--" Alatariel could hear no more as the crystal screamed a high-pitched whine. He could feel the very essence of his soul being pulled into the now-gaping maw of the crystal.
"Carrie!" He tried to scream, but his words were swallowed into the vacuum of the crystal.
He struggled to keep footing as the energy of the crystal fought to pull him in. The vortex grew in strength, the very skin on his bones feeling as if it were going to fly off.
He couldn't hold back anymore. Alatariel was swallowed by the crystal.
-----
His eyes struggled to open against the brilliant light. Alatariel pulled himself off the ground to rest on an elbow, his left hand rising up to canopy his vision. He blinked heavily, trying to correct the scenery around him. The keep, the throne room, the demons, the Shadow Lord ...
... all replaced by a sunny meadow. In the distance was a mountain range, and a stream babbled not too far off. Growing all around him were wildflowers unlike any he had ever seen. Laying next to him was his basket-carrying crab, Courier Carrie, unconcious.
Alatariel quickly picked himself up and reached into one of Carrie's baskets and pulled out a biscuit, which he put into Carrie's mouth. It balanced between her jaws for a few moments before they slowly closed down on it, and Carrie slowly came back around.
"Thought I had lost you there for a moment, girl." Alatariel sighed out in a breath of relief.
Carrie blinked her long eye stalks, looking around curiously as she adjusted herself up onto her legs. Alatariel could see the confusion in her eyes.
"I'm not quite sure where we are. This isn't the Keep, that I know. This doesn't even ... this doesn't even look like Vana'diel." Alatariel swallowed hard, his eyes darting from mountain to river to sun. Not even the sky looked the same.
"I guess we know one thing for sure, Carrie. We aren't in Purgonorgo Isle anymore."
Alatariel swung his axe into the neck of the sword-wielding demon and pulled it out, the wound belching blood. The demon howled an unearthly scream as it fell to the body-ridden floor. Alatariel leaped through the waste he and his crab familiar had laid to stand by her side as more demons rushed through the gate.
"Just another day in Purgonorgo Isle, eh, Carrie?" Alatariel said through a grin, his chest rising and falling as his lungs fought their own battle. The crab turned her stalks up to look at her master and offered a nod, clicking her claws in agreement.
Alatariel felt an unearthly presence materializing behind him. He turned his head to see shadows crawling towards the throne, the crystals behind the throne pulsating with an otherworldly glow. His courage was suddenly drained and his heart fell in his chest. He could sense the immense power that was gathering.
"Carrie," he whispered. "I think we might be in trouble."
The demons poured into the room, cackling and screaming their demon laughter as they formed a semi-circle around their victims. To them, the outcome of this battle had been decided.
Their master had arrived.
The shadows gathered at the base of the throne and piled on top of each other until their collected presence built the form of the Shadow Lord. The shadows solidified, turning into hard muscle. Lightning rushed through his skin, shadows pouring out of his onyx eyes.
"Foolish mortal," the Shadow Lord hissed. "Your end is nigh."
Waves of energy poured forth from the Shadow Lord. The demons behind Alatariel and Carrie began to close in. There wasn't much left to do.
"Get 'em, Carrie! I'll deal with this dustcloud myself!" Alatariel shouted.
Alatariel pulled his arm back, axe in hand, and sent it flying as though it were a boomerang towards the Shadow Lord -- but the Shadow Lord was quicker. He cocked his head to the side, allowing the axe to fly safely passed his head. The blade of the axe crashed into one of the crystals behind him before it flew back into Alatariel's hand.
There was a moment of silence as the crystal that was struck ebbed it's inner light weakly.
A crack had formed, and it was slowing journeying up the crystal. The crystal split in twain. It's inner light exploded, flooding the room. The only sound was the pounding of a hundred feet as all of the demons rushed to evacuate the throne room while the Shadow Lord screamed.
"You've shattered a crystal! You insolent rat! You--" Alatariel could hear no more as the crystal screamed a high-pitched whine. He could feel the very essence of his soul being pulled into the now-gaping maw of the crystal.
"Carrie!" He tried to scream, but his words were swallowed into the vacuum of the crystal.
He struggled to keep footing as the energy of the crystal fought to pull him in. The vortex grew in strength, the very skin on his bones feeling as if it were going to fly off.
He couldn't hold back anymore. Alatariel was swallowed by the crystal.
-----
His eyes struggled to open against the brilliant light. Alatariel pulled himself off the ground to rest on an elbow, his left hand rising up to canopy his vision. He blinked heavily, trying to correct the scenery around him. The keep, the throne room, the demons, the Shadow Lord ...
... all replaced by a sunny meadow. In the distance was a mountain range, and a stream babbled not too far off. Growing all around him were wildflowers unlike any he had ever seen. Laying next to him was his basket-carrying crab, Courier Carrie, unconcious.
Alatariel quickly picked himself up and reached into one of Carrie's baskets and pulled out a biscuit, which he put into Carrie's mouth. It balanced between her jaws for a few moments before they slowly closed down on it, and Carrie slowly came back around.
"Thought I had lost you there for a moment, girl." Alatariel sighed out in a breath of relief.
Carrie blinked her long eye stalks, looking around curiously as she adjusted herself up onto her legs. Alatariel could see the confusion in her eyes.
"I'm not quite sure where we are. This isn't the Keep, that I know. This doesn't even ... this doesn't even look like Vana'diel." Alatariel swallowed hard, his eyes darting from mountain to river to sun. Not even the sky looked the same.
"I guess we know one thing for sure, Carrie. We aren't in Purgonorgo Isle anymore."
#162
Apr 23 2009 at 5:09 PM
1 post
Pandoria had felt an odd surge as she passed through the dark portal this time, kind of like jumper cables bringing you back to life. She had gone through hundreds of times before, but this was too different. When she looked around she saw a beautiful landscape lacking the fires of Draenor and behind her the portal was no where to be seen. She knelt down and cried, it looked like in this new land there were no mechanical gnomes to disassemble.
#163
Apr 23 2009 at 7:52 PM
The name's Aubalys. I'm a Paladin, and I live in Qeynos.
At least I used to.
See, here's what happened...
I was decorating my 5 room house, and, as I often did, I went to peer into my little "secret" room, you know, the one at the end of the ledge next to the stairs, so I could imagine how I would decorate it. (If only I could get into it, that is.)
All of a sudden, as I was peering in, I realized that I could now crouch down, and get through the door! Weird thing is, there was ANOTHER door in there. Of course, I excitedly flung it open, to see what was in there.
What I saw was... darkness.
Of course, being the brave Paladin that I am, I entered the darkness without hesitation.
Imagine my surprise when I ended up not in another room, but another world! I'm told that this world is called Hyboria. I've not heard of this land before, but hey! I'm a Paladin! I'm not afraid of exploring a new world! Now, I wonder how I can get back? After all, I left my armor on the armor rack, and my weapon on the weapon rack by the front door!
At least I used to.
See, here's what happened...
I was decorating my 5 room house, and, as I often did, I went to peer into my little "secret" room, you know, the one at the end of the ledge next to the stairs, so I could imagine how I would decorate it. (If only I could get into it, that is.)
All of a sudden, as I was peering in, I realized that I could now crouch down, and get through the door! Weird thing is, there was ANOTHER door in there. Of course, I excitedly flung it open, to see what was in there.
What I saw was... darkness.
Of course, being the brave Paladin that I am, I entered the darkness without hesitation.
Imagine my surprise when I ended up not in another room, but another world! I'm told that this world is called Hyboria. I've not heard of this land before, but hey! I'm a Paladin! I'm not afraid of exploring a new world! Now, I wonder how I can get back? After all, I left my armor on the armor rack, and my weapon on the weapon rack by the front door!
#164
Apr 23 2009 at 9:50 PM
Jackiechan fell in a hole, and landed in hyboria, now give me a new PC..
It was a pretty big hole.
It was a pretty big hole.
#165
Apr 24 2009 at 12:17 AM
1 post
I, the lone son of Kim, am a guardian of all things holy in this world. I've ventured into Hyboria to attempt to lay waste to Thoth Amon's hell-spawned minions, this far I've faced the unspeakable horrors of the stygians black sorcery and the brutish force of nemedian legions. I have survived every obstacle on my path to glory, I've given my blood for Conan, yet the days grow increasingly darker with every passing hour.
My sword and the strength of my arm has carried me a long way in my journeys across Hyboria, as it is a harsh world out there, I would’ve dropped dead long ago if it wasn’t for the skills my father passed onto me, before he fell to Thoth Amon’s army of slaves. From that day on, I vowed to avenge him through the death of Thoth Amon, and any cursed soul in his power.
In this Dark Age I can but hope that my wish will come to pass, if I am to succeed I will require loyal, steadfast and strong companions. I cannot be the only who wants to see this through, but for now I will continue to fight the ever present evils of this world, I will revel in their slaughter, and once I am ready I will face you, Thoth Amon.
- Sonokim
My sword and the strength of my arm has carried me a long way in my journeys across Hyboria, as it is a harsh world out there, I would’ve dropped dead long ago if it wasn’t for the skills my father passed onto me, before he fell to Thoth Amon’s army of slaves. From that day on, I vowed to avenge him through the death of Thoth Amon, and any cursed soul in his power.
In this Dark Age I can but hope that my wish will come to pass, if I am to succeed I will require loyal, steadfast and strong companions. I cannot be the only who wants to see this through, but for now I will continue to fight the ever present evils of this world, I will revel in their slaughter, and once I am ready I will face you, Thoth Amon.
- Sonokim
#166
Apr 24 2009 at 7:25 AM
1 post
The freight train was moving fast and that last piece of food slid out of my hands. Damnit! I tried to retrieve it again, but lost my appetite and figured there was nothing left for me....Here I am, sitting upon a pile of garbage inside a freight train, no name, no identity, nothing. I picked up a bucket and started yelling and I launched it across the room. Surprisingly, even though I had thrown that bucket a million times before, this little broken remote with only one button on it fell out. I was so angry, I went and picked it up, started smashing the button, then threw it out of the freight train.
Meanwhile in President Obama's office, one of his bodyguards started to feel wierd, then suddenly, Barack collapsed to the floor. People came rushing in and he was pronounced dead.
I jumped out of the freight train, sick of this horrible setting, and ran to the nearest building I could see. It was a gas station, but there were groups of people huddled, the wind was blowing, and the sky was so dark it felt apocalyptic. I looked on the TV's playing in the gas station and it was saying Barack Obama has died, fell to the ground. No one knows how he died, people think it might have been terrorists that planted an electric device inside of him, or something else. About 5 minutes later, some guy smashed the windows of the gas station, and started taking everything. All over the world, destruction had begun, and a nuclear war started.
I was sitting on my stool, and he came. "You have failed me Barack. You were the last thing that could save the human race, and now you have died, it is over." "God, how could I have died?" "I don't know, but life as we now know it, is over. Goodbye Barack." My chest started to compress, and instantly I distintegrated into nothing, and the whole universe imploded. Everything has ended.
I woke upon a beach, in rags, and some idiot who calls himself "Kalanthes" was talking to me, thinking I cared about whatever garbage that was coming out of his mouth. Good, he was done talking, well, see you later "Kalanthes" but I gotta go rescue this girl. I didn't really care what happened, or why I was here, because my earlier life was terrible, so I'm going to think of this as a gift. I went and rescued the girl, traveled to a town called Tortage and killed the tyrant there. All was good and I began a new life.
67 years later, in the world known as Hyboria, King Conan was assassinated. Destruction broke out across the world, and the menace Thoth'Amon took control of everything.
Up in the world of Crom, King Conan arrived. "You have failed me Conan, and now, the world must end. Goodbye".
Edited, Apr 24th 2009 2:02pm by Catpost
Meanwhile in President Obama's office, one of his bodyguards started to feel wierd, then suddenly, Barack collapsed to the floor. People came rushing in and he was pronounced dead.
I jumped out of the freight train, sick of this horrible setting, and ran to the nearest building I could see. It was a gas station, but there were groups of people huddled, the wind was blowing, and the sky was so dark it felt apocalyptic. I looked on the TV's playing in the gas station and it was saying Barack Obama has died, fell to the ground. No one knows how he died, people think it might have been terrorists that planted an electric device inside of him, or something else. About 5 minutes later, some guy smashed the windows of the gas station, and started taking everything. All over the world, destruction had begun, and a nuclear war started.
I was sitting on my stool, and he came. "You have failed me Barack. You were the last thing that could save the human race, and now you have died, it is over." "God, how could I have died?" "I don't know, but life as we now know it, is over. Goodbye Barack." My chest started to compress, and instantly I distintegrated into nothing, and the whole universe imploded. Everything has ended.
I woke upon a beach, in rags, and some idiot who calls himself "Kalanthes" was talking to me, thinking I cared about whatever garbage that was coming out of his mouth. Good, he was done talking, well, see you later "Kalanthes" but I gotta go rescue this girl. I didn't really care what happened, or why I was here, because my earlier life was terrible, so I'm going to think of this as a gift. I went and rescued the girl, traveled to a town called Tortage and killed the tyrant there. All was good and I began a new life.
67 years later, in the world known as Hyboria, King Conan was assassinated. Destruction broke out across the world, and the menace Thoth'Amon took control of everything.
Up in the world of Crom, King Conan arrived. "You have failed me Conan, and now, the world must end. Goodbye".
Edited, Apr 24th 2009 2:02pm by Catpost
#167
Apr 24 2009 at 9:29 AM
1 post
Dude so Vul, a undead death knight was just done slaying Patchwerk from the undead city in the sky. Now vul needed to home home and sleep so he got a mage to open a portal to undercity. When this mage opened the portal he opened portals to every city making it a completely random portal. Vul didnt feel like saying anything so he took his chances so his entered the portal and ended up in the land of Hyboria.
#168
Apr 24 2009 at 9:49 AM
1 post
Dragonsfire was but a simple Human Warrior, one of the last of his kind since the arrival of the Death Knights in Azeroth. He was skills in all arts of weapons and survival. He obtained the nickname Dragonsfire, when he stroke foes so violently it was like they were hit by fire, and they would combust into flames. He had no family, and he lived alone. His home resided near Stormwind next to a river and waterfall, he was almost never home because it bored him and he would be out slaying onslaughts of horde. One day after he slew a scouting party he got quite bored of the same old enemy and how they have become.. how he thought.. too easy. He decided to travel to Grom'gol, in Stranglethorn Vale. When he arrived he laughed at how poorly the base was guarded, he easily took out the guard at the north entrance, and he walked up the zeppelin deck, took out the 3 or 4 guards up there, took the most the crew, and took the rest as captives to pilot the zeppelin. They set off with little resistance from the crew.. which was.. quickly taken care of.
Everything was going smooth except one thing... the approaching storm. The storm hit quicker then they anticipated, and before they knew it lighting has struck the zeppelins' balloon. They fell to the awaiting ocean below. Dragonsfire manage to unstrap some of his heavy armor and swim to the surface, where he was able to grab hold to a wooden plank that was floating near by. He knew he was done for if he didn't start to swim in a direction, so he swim in a random direction and hope he got lucky, a few hours later fatigue began to set in and he quickly passed out. A few hours later, he awoke on a beach of some sort, but this looked nothing like the beaches on Azeroth. No, this was an entire new area he has never been before. For what happens next, has had to happen yet...
Everything was going smooth except one thing... the approaching storm. The storm hit quicker then they anticipated, and before they knew it lighting has struck the zeppelins' balloon. They fell to the awaiting ocean below. Dragonsfire manage to unstrap some of his heavy armor and swim to the surface, where he was able to grab hold to a wooden plank that was floating near by. He knew he was done for if he didn't start to swim in a direction, so he swim in a random direction and hope he got lucky, a few hours later fatigue began to set in and he quickly passed out. A few hours later, he awoke on a beach of some sort, but this looked nothing like the beaches on Azeroth. No, this was an entire new area he has never been before. For what happens next, has had to happen yet...
#169
Apr 24 2009 at 11:24 AM
1 post
Born from the loins of a Stygian father, to a Cimmerian *****, Kaasim was bound to Hyboria by the darkest and most deceitful aspects in all the kingdoms. His father’s dark sorcery was used to manipulate his mother’s judgment. His conception was that of the dark sorcery of Set, and bore to a woman with little respect for herself. When his father’s half-hearted magics failed to produce a demon son worthy of carrying out bringing death and darkness upon the Hyborian borders, his chosen host was left half dead and impregnated on the shores of Tortage.
Kaasim was but a baby when his mother returned to the lands of Cimmieria. Her lack of affection and veiled sense of responsibility was none to uncommon in this cold, hard tundra. Kaasim grew up like many children of Cimmereia. With little given to them; that which they want they must take. For it was born into these children of Crom. This was a Cimmeran’s life.
As Kaasim aged his love for his mother grew no more, and was returned as much by her. As a young adult, he left his home near the Border Regions, tired of fighting for scraps, only to lick his wounds. His dream of ascending the steps of Old Taranita and living in the Noble District swelled his heart from an early age. He ventured to this land of prosperity and abundance. With dreams of gold and fine wines and food, he was yet again crushed when the city of kings showed him no fair welcome. Robbed, beat up, lied to and used, Kaasim found himself in jail, potentially dying in this strange new land for a crime he did not commit. The stench of treacherous, two faced liars was not something Kaasim’s Cimmerian up bringing exposed to him. Aquilonia and her Mitra followers were none to quick to use wit, as well as strong arm. Facing certain death, his life changed when another prisoner, a Stygian dark sorcerer took interest in him. AgniVulcan, a weilder of dark magics was awaiting deportation from Aquilonia. His death was not something the Aquilonian rulers took haphazardly. Not welcome in their land, his black magic would being sent back to Stygia, where he’d be free to continue is ethereal teachings.
When Kaasim was approached by the dark sorcerer, AgniVulcan felt the Stygian blood that ran through his veins. He could see the cold and eclipsed heart of a man with the strength of four men. His interest peaked, and while they were jailed together, he began to teach the odd warrior how to tap into the death and pain of himself and others to fuel his own agenda. How manipulating the sinister powers and bending them to his will, gave him strength. How they could revitalize his aching bones, how his sword and shield could be empowered by unholy magic. For the first time, Kaasim felt powerful.
On they day of his sentencing by the Tarantia Officials, Kaasim unleashed his black arts. His Cimmerian might and Stygian magics combined to be an over whelming force for the unsuspecting Aquilonians. He fled aboard a vessel sailing to Stygia, wanting to learn more from the dark sorcerer. After months of waiting, AgniVulcan was finally returned to Stygia. After swearing his apprenticeship to magic wieldier, he was taught for 3 years. To hone his cunning strength and inner rife to unleash it upon the defilers of this world. His heart grew black. His mind became warped and power hungry. He had become a Dark Templar.
Foolishly, he attempted to usurp his master. Unbeknownst to him, AgniVulcan was a practiced and educated wielder of demons. The realization of AgniVulcan’s true potential being held back from him was his last known memories. The dark manipulator placed his young apprentice under a spell of servitude. He was gifted to a young up and coming dark sorcerer named Thoth-Amon where he served as his minion for nearly a decade. Thoth-Amon’s bidding has no memory for Kaasim. He has no recollection of his actions or his past. He was a mindless beast, cast upon the enemies of the supreme dark sorcerer when and how it was deemed necessary.
This old life came to a screeching halt, when once again, Kaasim washed ashore at the island of Tortage….
Kaasim was but a baby when his mother returned to the lands of Cimmieria. Her lack of affection and veiled sense of responsibility was none to uncommon in this cold, hard tundra. Kaasim grew up like many children of Cimmereia. With little given to them; that which they want they must take. For it was born into these children of Crom. This was a Cimmeran’s life.
As Kaasim aged his love for his mother grew no more, and was returned as much by her. As a young adult, he left his home near the Border Regions, tired of fighting for scraps, only to lick his wounds. His dream of ascending the steps of Old Taranita and living in the Noble District swelled his heart from an early age. He ventured to this land of prosperity and abundance. With dreams of gold and fine wines and food, he was yet again crushed when the city of kings showed him no fair welcome. Robbed, beat up, lied to and used, Kaasim found himself in jail, potentially dying in this strange new land for a crime he did not commit. The stench of treacherous, two faced liars was not something Kaasim’s Cimmerian up bringing exposed to him. Aquilonia and her Mitra followers were none to quick to use wit, as well as strong arm. Facing certain death, his life changed when another prisoner, a Stygian dark sorcerer took interest in him. AgniVulcan, a weilder of dark magics was awaiting deportation from Aquilonia. His death was not something the Aquilonian rulers took haphazardly. Not welcome in their land, his black magic would being sent back to Stygia, where he’d be free to continue is ethereal teachings.
When Kaasim was approached by the dark sorcerer, AgniVulcan felt the Stygian blood that ran through his veins. He could see the cold and eclipsed heart of a man with the strength of four men. His interest peaked, and while they were jailed together, he began to teach the odd warrior how to tap into the death and pain of himself and others to fuel his own agenda. How manipulating the sinister powers and bending them to his will, gave him strength. How they could revitalize his aching bones, how his sword and shield could be empowered by unholy magic. For the first time, Kaasim felt powerful.
On they day of his sentencing by the Tarantia Officials, Kaasim unleashed his black arts. His Cimmerian might and Stygian magics combined to be an over whelming force for the unsuspecting Aquilonians. He fled aboard a vessel sailing to Stygia, wanting to learn more from the dark sorcerer. After months of waiting, AgniVulcan was finally returned to Stygia. After swearing his apprenticeship to magic wieldier, he was taught for 3 years. To hone his cunning strength and inner rife to unleash it upon the defilers of this world. His heart grew black. His mind became warped and power hungry. He had become a Dark Templar.
Foolishly, he attempted to usurp his master. Unbeknownst to him, AgniVulcan was a practiced and educated wielder of demons. The realization of AgniVulcan’s true potential being held back from him was his last known memories. The dark manipulator placed his young apprentice under a spell of servitude. He was gifted to a young up and coming dark sorcerer named Thoth-Amon where he served as his minion for nearly a decade. Thoth-Amon’s bidding has no memory for Kaasim. He has no recollection of his actions or his past. He was a mindless beast, cast upon the enemies of the supreme dark sorcerer when and how it was deemed necessary.
This old life came to a screeching halt, when once again, Kaasim washed ashore at the island of Tortage….
#170
Apr 24 2009 at 12:41 PM
1 post
I stomped my hooves into the blood soaked ground. Excitement and exhaustion caused my legs to shake to such a degree that I could barely control them. I looked to my companion, she had the same distant look as always. Even after weeks of traveling with her, that far off gaze still sent shivers down my spine. My eyes began to drift off of my companion and wandered around the room, eventually coming to rest on the prize we toiled so hard to obtain.
"Are you ok?" My question came out a little gruffer than I had meant it to, but I was still some what out of breath. As usual my companion replied with as little involvement as possible, she simply nodded her head.
I lifted the horrible head of Onyxia off the ground. As I did the stench of dragon wafted assailed my noes. My eyes watered and my vision got cloudy. I shook my head to clear my mind and my nostrils.
By the time my vision cleared my mage companion had already started to create a portal back to Orgimmar. My mind began to race as I thought of the gifts and praise we would receive from Thrall for defeating the dragon queen. The mage indicated that the portal was ready and motioned for me to enter. I walked up to the portal and began to step inside. Right before I entered I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see the mage smiling at me. This was the first time I had seen any type of expression on her face. I started to smile back then quickly realized she wasn't smiling, she was mumbling something. I started to lean closer to try and hear her words. I caught last word she mumbled and immediately brought my hands up to cover my face. As I did a fireball slammed into my chest and knocked me back.
Everything burned and I could barely breathe. I lashed out but never made contact with anything. I beat out the flames that were burning the fur that covered my body. When I was certain I was no longer on fire I opened my eyes. She was gone, or more correctly I was gone.
I stood stunned for a few moments before I realized what had happened.
That ***** of a Blood Elf had tricked me. The portal she had opened did not lead to Orgimmar. When she hit me with the fireball I dropped Onyxia's head! Now she was going to turn in the head and claim all the rewards.
I had to get back before she did. I pulled my hearth stone out of my bag and began the spell that would take me back to Thunderbluff. From there I would ask a flight master for the fastest mount he had. I finished the spell, but nothing happened. I tried it again. Still nothing.
Panic was slowly starting to build inside me.
I glanced around. Nothing looked familiar. My hearth stone wasn't working. I decided to teleport to Moonglade. It would take me longer to fly to Orgimmar from there, but It was better than just standing around.
The teleport didn't work either.
Panic was now starting to take hold. I tried to remember my druid training. I focused my thoughts. Soon the panic began to subside.
With a clear head I turned i mind to the task of figuring out where I was.
I was in a forest. The trees were tall, and the air was cold and slightly thin. I surmised that I was in the foothills of a mountain.
Just as I was about to pick a direction to walk in I heard far off voices.
I quickly transformed into my cat form and prowled my way towards the voices.
I came upon two humans. They were collecting plants and arguing about different types of spells. I listened closely.
One of the humans was trying to convince the other that a spell called Spirit of the Bear was the most important spell they could ever learn. The second human was maintaining that a spell called grizzled hide was far better, since it made the casters skin as tough as that of a great bear.
As i listened to them an idea formed in my head. I decided I had nothing to lose.
I quietly moved behind them and transformed into my Dire Bear form.
I said as casually as possible, "I think they are both fine spells."
They spun around quickly. As soon as they saw me they froze in place.
I hadn't thought my plan through this far, and wasn't really sure what to do.
"Well, I mean... they are both ok." They continued to stare at me.
I wanted to transform back into my cat form and prowl away so they couldn't see me.
Slowly the human who had been arguing in favor of the spell called Spirit of the Bear slowly walked toward me. She raised her hand towards my muzzle. She paused with her hand a few inched from my face. I could see it was trembling. After a few seconds she lightly placed her and on the side of my face. When her hand made contact with my face I saw a slight change in her expression. She looked excited and awed.
"Can you help me?" I tried to keep my voice low.
"Of course. You have helped us so many times, of course we can help you."
This was a much better response than I hoped for.
"But why have you come? Surely you were not sent here by Crom. He cares nothing for us."
"What people are you?" I asked.
"We are Cimmerians." the girl looked puzzled.
The man spoke for the first time. "You know us... you have to. We are Bear Shamans. We call upon your powers whenever we enter battle."
"Ah, yes. Of course. Just so long as you do not deny who you are." I had no idea what to say or do. "Do you know how far we are from Orgimmar?"
"I have never heard of Orgimmar." The woman looked at the man, he shrook his head.
"Durotar?" I asked. More head shaking.
"Kalimdor then?"
"I have never heard of these places," the man replied.
"Do you know of Azeroth?" my voice broke as I spoke these words.
"All of these names are strange to me" The girl looked puzzled.
Where had that mage sent me?
"I need to speak with someone who is a master of magic. Do you know of anyone who I could talk to?"
The man looked around as he thought. "Yes. There is a man in our settlement who might be able to help you."
As we walked I began to doubt if anyone could help me restore my hearth stone to working order. Maybe my hearth stone wasn't broken. Maybe I couldn't hearth back from where I was, where ever that was.
We walked for a few hours. Eventually we came upon a settlement of tents. None of the inhabitants noticed at first. The female immediately ran off towards a large tent that was situated towards the back of the encampment.
The male guide stopped. I stopped behind him.
He took a deep breath and then yelled something I couldn't understand.
Everyone in the camp stopped what they were doing and looked in our direction. All at once they all rushed towards us. It took all the nerve I had not to turn and run.
The entire camp was talking at once and I couldn't understand what they were saying. The crowd slowly parted and the girl that I had met in the woods was standing there with an old woman. The old woman stepped forward and the crowd fell silent.
She placed a necklace around my neck and the entire camp went wild.
I thought to myself... what do I need a hearth stone for.
"Are you ok?" My question came out a little gruffer than I had meant it to, but I was still some what out of breath. As usual my companion replied with as little involvement as possible, she simply nodded her head.
I lifted the horrible head of Onyxia off the ground. As I did the stench of dragon wafted assailed my noes. My eyes watered and my vision got cloudy. I shook my head to clear my mind and my nostrils.
By the time my vision cleared my mage companion had already started to create a portal back to Orgimmar. My mind began to race as I thought of the gifts and praise we would receive from Thrall for defeating the dragon queen. The mage indicated that the portal was ready and motioned for me to enter. I walked up to the portal and began to step inside. Right before I entered I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see the mage smiling at me. This was the first time I had seen any type of expression on her face. I started to smile back then quickly realized she wasn't smiling, she was mumbling something. I started to lean closer to try and hear her words. I caught last word she mumbled and immediately brought my hands up to cover my face. As I did a fireball slammed into my chest and knocked me back.
Everything burned and I could barely breathe. I lashed out but never made contact with anything. I beat out the flames that were burning the fur that covered my body. When I was certain I was no longer on fire I opened my eyes. She was gone, or more correctly I was gone.
I stood stunned for a few moments before I realized what had happened.
That ***** of a Blood Elf had tricked me. The portal she had opened did not lead to Orgimmar. When she hit me with the fireball I dropped Onyxia's head! Now she was going to turn in the head and claim all the rewards.
I had to get back before she did. I pulled my hearth stone out of my bag and began the spell that would take me back to Thunderbluff. From there I would ask a flight master for the fastest mount he had. I finished the spell, but nothing happened. I tried it again. Still nothing.
Panic was slowly starting to build inside me.
I glanced around. Nothing looked familiar. My hearth stone wasn't working. I decided to teleport to Moonglade. It would take me longer to fly to Orgimmar from there, but It was better than just standing around.
The teleport didn't work either.
Panic was now starting to take hold. I tried to remember my druid training. I focused my thoughts. Soon the panic began to subside.
With a clear head I turned i mind to the task of figuring out where I was.
I was in a forest. The trees were tall, and the air was cold and slightly thin. I surmised that I was in the foothills of a mountain.
Just as I was about to pick a direction to walk in I heard far off voices.
I quickly transformed into my cat form and prowled my way towards the voices.
I came upon two humans. They were collecting plants and arguing about different types of spells. I listened closely.
One of the humans was trying to convince the other that a spell called Spirit of the Bear was the most important spell they could ever learn. The second human was maintaining that a spell called grizzled hide was far better, since it made the casters skin as tough as that of a great bear.
As i listened to them an idea formed in my head. I decided I had nothing to lose.
I quietly moved behind them and transformed into my Dire Bear form.
I said as casually as possible, "I think they are both fine spells."
They spun around quickly. As soon as they saw me they froze in place.
I hadn't thought my plan through this far, and wasn't really sure what to do.
"Well, I mean... they are both ok." They continued to stare at me.
I wanted to transform back into my cat form and prowl away so they couldn't see me.
Slowly the human who had been arguing in favor of the spell called Spirit of the Bear slowly walked toward me. She raised her hand towards my muzzle. She paused with her hand a few inched from my face. I could see it was trembling. After a few seconds she lightly placed her and on the side of my face. When her hand made contact with my face I saw a slight change in her expression. She looked excited and awed.
"Can you help me?" I tried to keep my voice low.
"Of course. You have helped us so many times, of course we can help you."
This was a much better response than I hoped for.
"But why have you come? Surely you were not sent here by Crom. He cares nothing for us."
"What people are you?" I asked.
"We are Cimmerians." the girl looked puzzled.
The man spoke for the first time. "You know us... you have to. We are Bear Shamans. We call upon your powers whenever we enter battle."
"Ah, yes. Of course. Just so long as you do not deny who you are." I had no idea what to say or do. "Do you know how far we are from Orgimmar?"
"I have never heard of Orgimmar." The woman looked at the man, he shrook his head.
"Durotar?" I asked. More head shaking.
"Kalimdor then?"
"I have never heard of these places," the man replied.
"Do you know of Azeroth?" my voice broke as I spoke these words.
"All of these names are strange to me" The girl looked puzzled.
Where had that mage sent me?
"I need to speak with someone who is a master of magic. Do you know of anyone who I could talk to?"
The man looked around as he thought. "Yes. There is a man in our settlement who might be able to help you."
As we walked I began to doubt if anyone could help me restore my hearth stone to working order. Maybe my hearth stone wasn't broken. Maybe I couldn't hearth back from where I was, where ever that was.
We walked for a few hours. Eventually we came upon a settlement of tents. None of the inhabitants noticed at first. The female immediately ran off towards a large tent that was situated towards the back of the encampment.
The male guide stopped. I stopped behind him.
He took a deep breath and then yelled something I couldn't understand.
Everyone in the camp stopped what they were doing and looked in our direction. All at once they all rushed towards us. It took all the nerve I had not to turn and run.
The entire camp was talking at once and I couldn't understand what they were saying. The crowd slowly parted and the girl that I had met in the woods was standing there with an old woman. The old woman stepped forward and the crowd fell silent.
She placed a necklace around my neck and the entire camp went wild.
I thought to myself... what do I need a hearth stone for.
#171
Apr 24 2009 at 1:59 PM
1 post
Ikikgud Hasfallentodground just finished up another slaying of North ToV Dragons. He headed over to the Plane of Mischief portal and stepped on the tiny city. Apparently this day the crazy little halfling god decided to make the Plane even Crazier as it took Ikikgud into Hybornia.
Upon entering he saw many many many frail little humans who didn't know how to kick. He pulled out his shovel of the harvest and started wacking dumb barbarians on the head. After knocking a few of them out, he realised they were only dumb because they had a serious lack of food & water. Ikikgud used his shovel to dig up some loaves of bread to feed the poor dumb barbiarians. Once the barbiarins were fed, they lost their desire to fight and all became dancers in an SWG bar.
Upon entering he saw many many many frail little humans who didn't know how to kick. He pulled out his shovel of the harvest and started wacking dumb barbarians on the head. After knocking a few of them out, he realised they were only dumb because they had a serious lack of food & water. Ikikgud used his shovel to dig up some loaves of bread to feed the poor dumb barbiarians. Once the barbiarins were fed, they lost their desire to fight and all became dancers in an SWG bar.
#172
Apr 24 2009 at 3:47 PM
1 post
Electrostatic was born in the highelf city of Felwithe. His mother and father were both of royal decent and were both killed in the great cataclysm that tore Norrath apart. Electrostatic found friends in the great city of Qeynos who helped him overcome his grief by showing him the path to becoming a great wizard. Electrostatic dove into his studies as a wizard, he became known as one of the greatest wizards on all of Norrath.
One day while he was out on the great Trakanon jungles he was attacked. Electrostatic called forth a great ice nova from the heavens to vanquish his foe. After the dust settled he found that he had cracked open the side of a mountain. Inside this mountain was a hidden cave. Electrostatic being a fearless explorer decided to venture in and see what great treasures he might find. What he found was a room with a glowing portal. Electrostatic being a wizard, was able to call portals to other lands himself. He wanted to know where this portal would take him and find out how to call a portal to this land himself.
As he stepped into the portal his body was broken down to the cellular level and then put back together when he reached the other side. When he got to the other side he found he did not look the same and he could not call forth the same magic he had been able to in norrath. The magic in this new land was different. He also found he could not go back the way he came. Electrostatic was sure that he would be able to learn the magic of this new land if he could find a friend and a city with books to study. Electrostatic set forth on his next great journey….
One day while he was out on the great Trakanon jungles he was attacked. Electrostatic called forth a great ice nova from the heavens to vanquish his foe. After the dust settled he found that he had cracked open the side of a mountain. Inside this mountain was a hidden cave. Electrostatic being a fearless explorer decided to venture in and see what great treasures he might find. What he found was a room with a glowing portal. Electrostatic being a wizard, was able to call portals to other lands himself. He wanted to know where this portal would take him and find out how to call a portal to this land himself.
As he stepped into the portal his body was broken down to the cellular level and then put back together when he reached the other side. When he got to the other side he found he did not look the same and he could not call forth the same magic he had been able to in norrath. The magic in this new land was different. He also found he could not go back the way he came. Electrostatic was sure that he would be able to learn the magic of this new land if he could find a friend and a city with books to study. Electrostatic set forth on his next great journey….
#173
Apr 24 2009 at 4:36 PM
1 post
Norrath, a place of beauty and comfort. Living in my home to the North, Halas the father of the world its where the men and women rule in equality, and where we respect our ancestors who lived in this world before us. This place I truly call home.
My name is Galather of Marr's Fist Berserker of the North, and I embark on a quest for the new lands beyond my home in Halas, my blood brothers Wartanker the Defender of Halas and Zelox the Erudite Necromancer of Udus accompanied me on this quest to find new lands for our people. Wartanker and I made a hefty long ship that is durable for the rough seas to come, and Zelox wove the sails for our ship. We left the shores of Permafrost to find the new lands, I brought dried beef and ale, enough for several weeks but alas it can not last us forever, Wartanker brought bait for the cold blooded fishes that we may fish out later on,and Zelox brought his old tomes to read on the way to the new lands, and maybe it can come to good use if we are going to counter any savages on the way.
Weeks have passed I am beginning to feel a sharp pain in my stomach, for the lack of food we have, Wartanker's bait was no good the fish were not biting for these weeks. I can see in Wartanker's eyes that he wished he would of never left his homeland but I know he is stronger than that, he can withstand these horrid cold winds blasting our sails, Zelox on the other hand seems to be at peace reading his tomes, he is an odd man I could never understand his race, always seeking knowledge where places are dark and unknown, but he never builds his body, he is all skin and bones one punch with my fist may shatter his ribs but he has magic on his side something that I cannot penetrate with my iron muscles, he can summon things more horrifying than even in my worse of night mares, I dont want to get in a quarrel with him.
A few days later I suddenly see land! green as I can see beautiful, lush, better than seeing a pot pie on the table. Wartanker notices it too and gets ready for landing, Zelox still reading heard both Wartanker and my shouts for joy "Hora!" we both shout. " By the gods we made it!" said I "Maybe we can find food for once! Some delicious elk would suit me fine!" said Wartanker, Zelox walking up to us on the boat with tome in hand said " Remember there maybe savages in these woods, so prepare for blood shed which I believe will come soon." "He is right, prepare your weapons for we may battle savages when we reach shores." said I "Aye." said Wartanker. We soon came to close to land, I put my sword belt on, and put on the face paint of my ancestors blue is the preferred color.
We landed the boat on the beach and got off of it, seeing the lush green forest we started to walk on. Wartanker took out his bow ready to shoot an elk when he sees one, "Put that blasted thing away! Lets find a village first and see if we can trade with them for food." said Zelox. "No! Im hungry and in need of something to eat now!" "Eat this." said I tossing him a pine cone, "What Barbarian eats pine cones?!" "You do now!" said Zelox laughingly.
"Ah, here is a village." A dusky smokey village, as we walked we saw only humans, the villagers were scared at Zelox, I guess it was his blue skin and purple eyes that terrified them. "Ask one of these lads where their chieftain is." said Wartanker, Zelox found a boy who was 5 foot high with brown hair and whiskers on his cheeks, "Ah hello kind sir, we seek your master, your king!" the boy looked confused, "Try Elvish" said Wartanker, Zelox nodded "Amis degan dero elbea?" the boy started to look confused and frighten, "Har die dorti gan?" said the boy. "Did you understand him?" said Wartanker "I think he is speaking a dialect of Dwarfish mixed with your native tounge Halasian." "Try to communicate with him then" said I. "Gorath die rakon dargean?" the boy understood, "Ah! Rakon die dargean arus chihoon." "He said their cheif resides up on the hill top. Curious, maybe they might be descendants of your people." Wartanker looked agasted "Our people never left this far from Norrath! How could that be?" Rubbing his chin Zelox replied "It could centuries ago, there might be a mass migration of Northmen moving to new lands in the western part of this mysterious world." As we moved up hill we saw people that actually looked similar to my people tall, light skinned, beards, and strong. One man who was chopping wood looked like my uncle back home, maybe Zelox might be right about a mass migration of my people. As we enter the chieftain's wooden home we saw heads of other tribesmen that maybe at war with their tribe. The hall was long and fire places on both sides, and the chief sitting in the end of the hall on his throne sword in one hand and ale in the other. "Borgan dalestie mean!" said the chieftain in anger "Drakon vier gondagast, mier forakie mydarest dien bor me Zelox, und da Wartanker, und da Galather alk die Norkan. Wal reak ast homall hare." the chief looked at him darkly and said "Garest...." and Zelox looked to me and said "Were able to live here for now." "Finally! Now lets get some food!" said Wartanker, "Aye lets." said I.
We walked into the village and traded our wares such as a silver compass we had for bear steaks and ale at the local pub. "We made it." said I drinking ale from a horn, " Now what?" said Wartanker, "We cultivate a home here, and create a new migration of our people into this world called Hyboria." said Zelox.
My name is Galather of Marr's Fist Berserker of the North, and I embark on a quest for the new lands beyond my home in Halas, my blood brothers Wartanker the Defender of Halas and Zelox the Erudite Necromancer of Udus accompanied me on this quest to find new lands for our people. Wartanker and I made a hefty long ship that is durable for the rough seas to come, and Zelox wove the sails for our ship. We left the shores of Permafrost to find the new lands, I brought dried beef and ale, enough for several weeks but alas it can not last us forever, Wartanker brought bait for the cold blooded fishes that we may fish out later on,and Zelox brought his old tomes to read on the way to the new lands, and maybe it can come to good use if we are going to counter any savages on the way.
Weeks have passed I am beginning to feel a sharp pain in my stomach, for the lack of food we have, Wartanker's bait was no good the fish were not biting for these weeks. I can see in Wartanker's eyes that he wished he would of never left his homeland but I know he is stronger than that, he can withstand these horrid cold winds blasting our sails, Zelox on the other hand seems to be at peace reading his tomes, he is an odd man I could never understand his race, always seeking knowledge where places are dark and unknown, but he never builds his body, he is all skin and bones one punch with my fist may shatter his ribs but he has magic on his side something that I cannot penetrate with my iron muscles, he can summon things more horrifying than even in my worse of night mares, I dont want to get in a quarrel with him.
A few days later I suddenly see land! green as I can see beautiful, lush, better than seeing a pot pie on the table. Wartanker notices it too and gets ready for landing, Zelox still reading heard both Wartanker and my shouts for joy "Hora!" we both shout. " By the gods we made it!" said I "Maybe we can find food for once! Some delicious elk would suit me fine!" said Wartanker, Zelox walking up to us on the boat with tome in hand said " Remember there maybe savages in these woods, so prepare for blood shed which I believe will come soon." "He is right, prepare your weapons for we may battle savages when we reach shores." said I "Aye." said Wartanker. We soon came to close to land, I put my sword belt on, and put on the face paint of my ancestors blue is the preferred color.
We landed the boat on the beach and got off of it, seeing the lush green forest we started to walk on. Wartanker took out his bow ready to shoot an elk when he sees one, "Put that blasted thing away! Lets find a village first and see if we can trade with them for food." said Zelox. "No! Im hungry and in need of something to eat now!" "Eat this." said I tossing him a pine cone, "What Barbarian eats pine cones?!" "You do now!" said Zelox laughingly.
"Ah, here is a village." A dusky smokey village, as we walked we saw only humans, the villagers were scared at Zelox, I guess it was his blue skin and purple eyes that terrified them. "Ask one of these lads where their chieftain is." said Wartanker, Zelox found a boy who was 5 foot high with brown hair and whiskers on his cheeks, "Ah hello kind sir, we seek your master, your king!" the boy looked confused, "Try Elvish" said Wartanker, Zelox nodded "Amis degan dero elbea?" the boy started to look confused and frighten, "Har die dorti gan?" said the boy. "Did you understand him?" said Wartanker "I think he is speaking a dialect of Dwarfish mixed with your native tounge Halasian." "Try to communicate with him then" said I. "Gorath die rakon dargean?" the boy understood, "Ah! Rakon die dargean arus chihoon." "He said their cheif resides up on the hill top. Curious, maybe they might be descendants of your people." Wartanker looked agasted "Our people never left this far from Norrath! How could that be?" Rubbing his chin Zelox replied "It could centuries ago, there might be a mass migration of Northmen moving to new lands in the western part of this mysterious world." As we moved up hill we saw people that actually looked similar to my people tall, light skinned, beards, and strong. One man who was chopping wood looked like my uncle back home, maybe Zelox might be right about a mass migration of my people. As we enter the chieftain's wooden home we saw heads of other tribesmen that maybe at war with their tribe. The hall was long and fire places on both sides, and the chief sitting in the end of the hall on his throne sword in one hand and ale in the other. "Borgan dalestie mean!" said the chieftain in anger "Drakon vier gondagast, mier forakie mydarest dien bor me Zelox, und da Wartanker, und da Galather alk die Norkan. Wal reak ast homall hare." the chief looked at him darkly and said "Garest...." and Zelox looked to me and said "Were able to live here for now." "Finally! Now lets get some food!" said Wartanker, "Aye lets." said I.
We walked into the village and traded our wares such as a silver compass we had for bear steaks and ale at the local pub. "We made it." said I drinking ale from a horn, " Now what?" said Wartanker, "We cultivate a home here, and create a new migration of our people into this world called Hyboria." said Zelox.
#174
Apr 24 2009 at 6:28 PM
5 posts
After becoming the greatest Guardian Norrath had ever seen, I, Parrin Goldeneyes, still being young, decided to continue my journey elsewhere. The question was where to go. I thought about venturing to Azeroth, but quickly decided against it. I had given up cartoons at an early age and had no desire to become one, especially not one with such a paltry plotline. Perhaps one of the realms of Camelot was for me but alas no, this was not the true adventure I was seeking. I went to a priens of Mithaniel Marr, the Truthbringer and he told me that the realm I was looking for was Hyboria. The priest told me to seek out Masojj Hu'Nett, a sage and spellcaster of acclaim and he would be able to cast the necessary incantations to transport me to Hyboria. After months of searching, I have finally found him. As he completes his final spell form, I will admit that I will miss my home. However, the challenge that awaits me in Hyboria excites me as nothing has for a long time.
I have been here a few short weeks, but Hyboria is truly the land of my dreams. I have spent much of my time battling scores of Troglodytes and the weariness I felt in Norrath has been washed from my bones by the challenges I now face daily. I am on my way to the Khopshef Province to learn the secrets of this land and to find even greater adventure.
I have been here a few short weeks, but Hyboria is truly the land of my dreams. I have spent much of my time battling scores of Troglodytes and the weariness I felt in Norrath has been washed from my bones by the challenges I now face daily. I am on my way to the Khopshef Province to learn the secrets of this land and to find even greater adventure.
#175
Apr 25 2009 at 4:19 AM
Tyresias was riding a gryphon from Ironforge to Stormwind, just like any other Wednesday afternoon. The gryphon, not being particularly well-trained, spotted a deer running in Elwynn Forest and dove after it. Tyresias was barely able to maintain his grasp, as the gryphon grabbed its prey and began flapping heavily upwards. Suddenly, from the darkness of the trees ahead, the Tower of Azora was looming in their sights. Unable to veer upwards in time, the gryphon flew through one of the tower's narrow slitted windows, and directly into an ominously glowing portal, bearing the unfortunate Tyresias with it..
#176
Apr 25 2009 at 7:03 AM
Based on fiction, non-fiction, elaboration, and pure imagination.
Looking upon the desolate remains of the once grand meeting hall for their guild the two siblings could only stand in silence as the wind ruffled a few parchments across the floor. Strewn about the large hall were the remains of potions, spell scroll, a few tanned hides, and over shadowing it all the wreckage wrought from the infighting. Even now, some hours past the worst of the fighting, a chair toppled from its precarious perch amongst the ruins of a table. The loud crash jolted the elder of the two from his disbelieving stare.
“Blessed Tunare have mercy, did they leave nothing unsoiledâ€, he stumbled forward and tripped on some dented armor pieces, falling to his knees before the remains of a shiny shield, cracked down the center.
“Brotherâ€, came a choked response from behind him yet he did not seem to hear. His eyes were fixed upon the brass shield. A shield which held more significance than most members of the once proud guild seem to remember.
“This shield...â€, his trembling hands slowly lifted the shield from the debris. A shield which had once forged the bond of brotherhood and now lay broken, cast aside in disdain.
“Brother please, come away from this placeâ€, she made a move to help him stand but froze as a cry bore of pure despair rolled forth from her brother's form. More than just sound the cry crashed over her sending waves of power which passed through the realm of magic and even beyond.
So great was this emanation of emotion that she reeled back as if struck and looked upon her brother with horror born of fear. Never in all her seasons of battle, from the highest pantheon to the deepest well of discord has her own experience or the worldly experience of her bardic allies known this level of anguish.
From the fathomless wells of his soul the wild emotions poured forth and woke what few in the existence of Norrath have ever seen, or heard spoken of. The wild magics of chaos erupted from his soul with an abandon and quickly infused themselves with the magic of the druid.
All in an instant, yet the moment hug like a crystal dew drop on the leaf of a tree, the forces of chaos melded with the forces of time and magic imbued within the druids armor. His magic, redoubled in strength, and completely driven by his uncontrolled emotion obeyed the prevailing thought within his mind.
His sister, held in terror, stood and watched the winds of magic rip her brother apart. The transport spell, which had so often moved friends and allies to safety, turned into a ravenous hole of space. It torn down the magical shields and spells which protected her brother as if they were no more than smoke. It sundered the armor which had withstood gods and demons alike. It bore a hole within the very fabric of time and pulled her brother in piece by piece.
Slowly, her mind woke to the fact that she to was caught. The forces which swallowed her brother leaped like a living creature and wrapped their irresistible coils around her frame. There was no time for her to breath, no time for her to think, and then there was no time at all. She knew no more.
A noise, and a soft feeling flitting into knowing. Slowly, aware only of being aware, she opened her eyes and tried to focus in the mist filtered light. Was she alive or had she finally found her way to the realm of Veeshan?
Trees.
Eyes grasping at the understandable forms she surveyed her surrounding with a growing sense of discomfort. There was something wrong, something that did not fit into her picture of the world.
Over time her body regained some strength and she forced herself to stand, leaning heavily on the strange trees for support. With great effort she moved through the wood, hearing strange noises, and smelling odd aromas.
Then, as the mists cleared slightly and the sun rose to it's peak, she saw the castle. The mighty stone work of humans stood in the light as a beacon to the truth in her mind....
This was not Norrath.
Edited, Apr 25th 2009 11:06am by Pathwalker
Looking upon the desolate remains of the once grand meeting hall for their guild the two siblings could only stand in silence as the wind ruffled a few parchments across the floor. Strewn about the large hall were the remains of potions, spell scroll, a few tanned hides, and over shadowing it all the wreckage wrought from the infighting. Even now, some hours past the worst of the fighting, a chair toppled from its precarious perch amongst the ruins of a table. The loud crash jolted the elder of the two from his disbelieving stare.
“Blessed Tunare have mercy, did they leave nothing unsoiledâ€, he stumbled forward and tripped on some dented armor pieces, falling to his knees before the remains of a shiny shield, cracked down the center.
“Brotherâ€, came a choked response from behind him yet he did not seem to hear. His eyes were fixed upon the brass shield. A shield which held more significance than most members of the once proud guild seem to remember.
“This shield...â€, his trembling hands slowly lifted the shield from the debris. A shield which had once forged the bond of brotherhood and now lay broken, cast aside in disdain.
“Brother please, come away from this placeâ€, she made a move to help him stand but froze as a cry bore of pure despair rolled forth from her brother's form. More than just sound the cry crashed over her sending waves of power which passed through the realm of magic and even beyond.
So great was this emanation of emotion that she reeled back as if struck and looked upon her brother with horror born of fear. Never in all her seasons of battle, from the highest pantheon to the deepest well of discord has her own experience or the worldly experience of her bardic allies known this level of anguish.
From the fathomless wells of his soul the wild emotions poured forth and woke what few in the existence of Norrath have ever seen, or heard spoken of. The wild magics of chaos erupted from his soul with an abandon and quickly infused themselves with the magic of the druid.
All in an instant, yet the moment hug like a crystal dew drop on the leaf of a tree, the forces of chaos melded with the forces of time and magic imbued within the druids armor. His magic, redoubled in strength, and completely driven by his uncontrolled emotion obeyed the prevailing thought within his mind.
His sister, held in terror, stood and watched the winds of magic rip her brother apart. The transport spell, which had so often moved friends and allies to safety, turned into a ravenous hole of space. It torn down the magical shields and spells which protected her brother as if they were no more than smoke. It sundered the armor which had withstood gods and demons alike. It bore a hole within the very fabric of time and pulled her brother in piece by piece.
Slowly, her mind woke to the fact that she to was caught. The forces which swallowed her brother leaped like a living creature and wrapped their irresistible coils around her frame. There was no time for her to breath, no time for her to think, and then there was no time at all. She knew no more.
A noise, and a soft feeling flitting into knowing. Slowly, aware only of being aware, she opened her eyes and tried to focus in the mist filtered light. Was she alive or had she finally found her way to the realm of Veeshan?
Trees.
Eyes grasping at the understandable forms she surveyed her surrounding with a growing sense of discomfort. There was something wrong, something that did not fit into her picture of the world.
Over time her body regained some strength and she forced herself to stand, leaning heavily on the strange trees for support. With great effort she moved through the wood, hearing strange noises, and smelling odd aromas.
Then, as the mists cleared slightly and the sun rose to it's peak, she saw the castle. The mighty stone work of humans stood in the light as a beacon to the truth in her mind....
This was not Norrath.
Edited, Apr 25th 2009 11:06am by Pathwalker
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