#Azmourne | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caedun · 2 months

Note

(A friend taught me how to rp on Tumblr. Tagging and reblogging replies, so bear with me).

Valdrakken

Since being raised as a Death Knight years ago and being freed from the Lich King at Light’s Hope Chapel, Tartt Sweetshriek had a second chance, so to speak. She remembered going to Dalaran and answering the call of the Horde- helping the Ebon Blade. Little did she know she would run into a demon hunter. They were just about as outcasted as the Death Knights were, so there was common ground.

Over the years, she had been on numerous adventures and fun places. Beating people in Hearthstone was fun to pass the time. She sat in one of the corners of the Roasted Ram, taking in everything. Q

A broad and angular figure passed through the Ram's open entryway, in the company of two substantial crates propped on either of his shoulders. Kitror waved him down and pointed behind the bar and the demon hunter set to putting each crate down gingerly, stacking them atop each other. He spoke to the waiter briefly, producing a small document from his pocket and acquiring the drakonid's signature before ending the conversation and stepping into the tavern proper.

With his usual looming manner he scanned the patrons one by one, his gaze flitting between them as he took stock of each patron, before settling on Tartt. After a lingering moment he strode over to her, standing at the edge of her table, his arms slack at his sides, his posture upright and stiff.

"You, Death Knight," he addressed the gothic goblin with a rasp, right hand lifting to point a long, sharp finger at her.

"What news do you and your brethren have regarding the time rifts? I assume you and yours are monitoring the state of 'Azmourne,' as it has been coined. I wish to draw comparisons with the fel-cursed equivalent, Azerwrath."

The question was posed flatly, transactionally, and left hovering in the air as his massive form loomed over Tartt's table.

#caedun #writing

10 notes · View notes

sekhisadventures · 5 days

Text

The Timelost Worgen

Once, Nozdormu sent the heroes of Azeroth through time to defeat a powerful being, his equal in every way in the most literal sense. His own future self, fallen to madness, Murazond of the Infinite Dragons.

They were sent to one of Azeroth’s possible futures. A bleak and desolate version of their world that Nozdormu referred to as ‘The End Times,’ where the corrupted leader of the black dragonflight, Deathwing the Destroyer, had done exactly as his name implies and had destroyed Azeroth to free his dark gods from their imprisonment.

However, there are many, nigh infinite timelines, and this was not the only one that ended badly for Azeroth.

In one timeline, known by the bronze dragons as Azmourne, when the forces of the Alliance and Horde invaded Icecrown citadel, the Scourge had won. Azeroth had fallen to the forces of Arthas Menethil and became a world of death where all served the Lich King and, through him, his dark master Zovaal the Jailer.

In another, Azewrath, the War of the Ancients was lost and Sargeras claimed Azeroth as his seat of power, Suramar being all that remained free of the iron rule of the Burning Legion as they put the world to the torch.

This world is not one of those… in this world, when Teldrassil Burned, King Wrynn led the forces of the Alliance to the fallen kingdom of Lordaeron in retaliation and breeched the city with Genn Greymane and Alleria Windrunner.

… but without Jaina Proudmoore. For whatever reason, in this timeline, the Daughter of the Sea was not present for the battle.

They fought their way through to the throne room of the late King Terenas to confront the Banshee Queen, who revealed that it was a trap set for them. Sylvannas transformed into her banshee form and unleashed a series of plague-bombs to flood the room with noxious fumes that spelled death for all who were inside.

In our timeline, Jaina Proudmoore teleported them to safety before the fumes could harm them… but she wasn’t there.

Instead, King Wrynn called upon the Light and dove towards the Banshee Queen, driving Shalamayne into her before she could escape. The power of the Light poured into Sylvannas and she cried out in agony as it consumed her, body and soul… but her final death scream blasted apart the throne room and the three heroes within it, killing them as well.

The King of Stormwind was dead without a heir, and the Warchief of the Horde was destroyed.

The reaction from both sides was immediate.

The Horde’s leadership changed to Baine Bloodhoof, who attempted to appeal for peace… but the Alliance would have none of it.

Tyrandae Whisperwind had been denied her prey by these events. The Night Warrior was furious and called upon the leadership of Stormwind to join her in wiping out the Horde forever. Without a king the rulership of the city fell to a hastily formed council of noblemen, many of whom saw the various races of the Horde as nothing but savage monsters worthy only of extermination.

To make matters worse, when Jaina heard of Anduin’s death she immediately sided with Tyrandae. She was still seething with the loss of her own home of Theramore Island, the wounds of that war still fresh in her mind and losing Anduin left her with very little else to care about losing.

The war raged across the lands of Azeroth for many months with neither side gaining ground… but the nobles of Stormwind had been working in secret. Aided by Lady Proudmoore and a cabal of likeminded mages, they managed to recreate the Mana Bomb used by Garrosh Hellscream during the days leading to the war in Pandaria, but much much more powerful.

They unleashed it upon Orgrimmar… but the devastation was beyond even what they had expected.

The resultant blast was a force unlike any seen since the Sundering itself. It annihilated the city and most of the eastern coast of Kalimdor, and the resultant shockwave disrupted the very ley lines of the planet causing a tremendous calamity worse even than the Cataclysm had been.

Storms tore across the land, earthquakes shattered the ground, it was as if Azeroth herself was rebelling against the destruction that had been wrought and was trying to rid herself of her inhabitants in disgust.

Hidden wells of Azerite ignited all over the world, causing ecological devastation on a global scale, and when the dust finally settled… that was all that remained of most of the world. Dust, and ruins.

By the end there was no Horde or Alliance, just the few survivors who managed to eke out an existence in what remained.

Year 2, After Last War, the land that was once known as Westfall.

Once it had been the breadbasket of the Kingdom of Stormwind, rows and rows of fields and farmland covered the region like the pattern of a giant quilt and the bounty of them had fed people from here all the way to Redridge.

Now, those fields lay farrow, nothing but cracked and dried dirt with the occasional hardy plants that still managed to survive somehow, and bones scattered about as well. Some were farm animals who had been left to starve as the farmers abandoned the fields, some were the farmers themselves who didn’t abandon them fast enough.

A pair of feet made their way through the desolate landscape, a nose sniffing at the air.

A worgen woman stood there, wearing armor that was piecemeal leather and metal strapped together, along with a tattered cloak over her shoulders. In her hand was a makeshift spear made of scrap metal strapped securely to a sturdy length of wood. “Hmm…” she murmured, then she glanced up at a loud cawing sound, holding out her arm.

A raven flapped down from the sky and landed there, cocking its head at her. “Find anyfin’ ta eat Morri?” she asked, her voice raspy.

The crow cawed at her, the worgen chuckled, “Eh, thought not…” she frowned, “I think Westfall’s ‘bout had it. We should ‘prolly ‘ead south aye? Mebbe some o’ Stranglethorn still got some life left…” she nodded as another bird flapped down next to her.

This one was different however. While the first one was an ordinary raven, this bird was an owl with feathers as white as snow and oddly enough a pair of long thin antlers growing from it's head… though it had clearly seen better days. They all had. The worgen, raven, and owl all looked close to starvation… barely hanging on only by hunting together.

The worgen stroked over the owl’s head gently, then she paused as she noticed something.

Flecks of sand were drifting off the raven’s wings, the bird having not noticed them yet.

“Oi, Morri? Yez been diggin’ in th’ beach again?” she grunted, reaching out to brush them off its feathers… then froze.

Sand was falling off her as well, the worgen noticing that her claws were trailing a rain of the small grains as she moved. The owl hooted in alarm as it flapped it’s wings, sand drifting off them as well!

“Wot th’ fel?! This some sorta magicky shite?!” she growled as her bird cawed loudly, sensing her agitation as she looked around. “WHO’S TRYIN’ TA DO SOME SPELLIN’ ON ME! SHOW YERSELF SO I CAN GUT YEZ PROPER!” she snarled.

But there was nobody around, at least, nobody alive… but then, nobody undead either. She and the birds were alone and within moments the sand was swirling around them!

The worgen cursed and tried to flail it away with her spear, but in a burst of sand the trio vanished… but nobody saw them go, there was nobody left to see it.

Next Story (Coming Soon!)

#warcraft #warcraft fanfiction #adventures in azeroth #world of warcraft #the war within

0 notes