#Kairozdormu

[findmeinshattrath]

Was thinking about about the Mag'har recruitment quests earlier. Will always hate what they decided to do with Yrel's Draenei. Wound up pondering some potential threats that could have been used instead and I realized something: the Infinite Dragonflight would slot in PERFECTLY.

If they had introduced the Infinite running with something along the lines of Kairoz's idea of (I'm paraphrasing here) using the alternate timeline to forge an army, it would...

Fit in with their established motivations

Help make sense of their involvement in Garrosh's escape and the whole Draenor affair, which was never really explained, expanded upon, or continued in-game

Fill in the same position as an ideologically driven force willing to forcefully convert others to their cause

Explain the Bronze dragons being so willing to help the player

There's a lot more to this, but it's like 3 AM and I'm tired so I'll probably revisit this later. I just wanted to get the base idea out there.

[jerek]

be my girl, i'll be your man

As Midha grows into others' perceptions, the Pandaren provide fireworks and music.

“A slow song,” Kairoz observed. “You should look for Anduin.”

Midha smiled… a cold, wilting smile. “He’s probably teaching Wrathion.”

“And he wouldn’t spare you a dance, if you were to ask?” Kairoz returned her expression, though the curve to his recurved mouth was as wooden as a bow.

“I don’t know how to ask him. I don’t know how to dance, either.”

All the fireworks made the sky seem darker. Wrathion would sometimes joke– he’d do this or that when the sun went down. Light flickered on the planes of Kairozdormu’s elven face.

Laughter simmered in his chest. “I’ll show you, then.” He extended a hand, and asked: “May I have this dance?”

If the sun never moved, how could its warmth vanish?

She wordlessly nodded, and swallowed a moment later so he wouldn’t notice. Instead of taking her hand, he set his own on her waist, and stepped closer. He held her opposite shoulder, and guided her. “Place one hand on your partner’s shoulder, and the other at their side,” he said.

She did so. Underneath his robes, Kairoz was as solid as anything could be. Mogu, made of stone, felt more breakable under her daggers than he did under her hands.

“There’s little technique to a slow-dance… besides not stepping on the feet of one’s partner. Watch what I do, and follow along.”

Two steps to the left– his left, his right, her left, her right.

Then, to the right: his right, her right, his left, her left. Until, more easily than she’d expected, they were in sync.

She still watched.

“Your own spatial awareness should help you here.” He came even closer. “When your prince asks to dance, you and he will only be so far apart.”

Midha looked up, and fumbled a step. She didn’t step on his toes– he clipped her ankle, and they stopped in place.

“I’m sorry. I thought you meant…”

Kairoz seemed contented with her. “Whoever happens to ask first,” he corrected.

They went on. It took longer the second time, getting back in a rhythm. He even turned her around, so the fireworks made auroras of his hair. Like rain-shafts lit by sunset, which she could see now was obscured by clouds.

“Pay close attention.”

Her eyes refocused on his. He took a wrong step– and came chest-to-chest. The silver of his breastplate shoved into the leather of her own. Kairozdormu grinned at her, and a stray nerve of hers felt a sense of accomplishment.

He lifted her hand. Her whole arm, really. It seemed unnatural, the way he turned it over… until she spun alone, and wrapped herself up in his shadow.

“Is it warm?” he asked. She looked up, her forehead brushing smooth skin beneath his jaw…

And she nodded.

“Humans are tepid to our kind.” The hand on her waist had sunk its fingers in the muscle of her back. He rested his chin between her braids. “Most of them never live to draconic adulthood.”

“Is that a hundred years?”

“Nearly, yes.”

They barely moved to the music. It was more like the two of them were drifting. Two feathers, shifting in the changing wind.

Kairoz took her hand from his shoulder, and placed it on his jawline. The pulse of his throat was as slow and deep as his breath. “When I can no longer watch over you directly, remember: that whelpling of yours is praying that you will come to him and ask for immortality.”

Was he?

“I do not think he can grant it,” Kairoz added. He opened his mouth to speak, still clasping her fingers to his heartbeat…

“Excuse me.”

Anduin stood just a few feet away. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest, but he was fiddling with his sleeves at the elbow, and he interjected: “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Wrathion was asking about you.”

“We are well.”

Kairoz spoke for her. Her hands were suddenly back at her sides– she wondered if Anduin saw it, or remembered it, or if she’d be the only one who knew.

Anduin asked again: “Midha, right? I think he wanted you to come back over. He wants to talk to you.”

She gave Kairoz a look. Maybe it had already passed: the moment he couldn’t keep her to himself. For all he knew about time, he didn’t seem to know how long ago that was.

But Kairoz had raised his eyebrow at Anduin. “Go on, Midha. We can speak later.”

She chewed on her lip as she walked away. Following Anduin back to Wrathion, she wondered if all this had something to do with her growth spurt.

Friends like Kairozdormu wouldn’t last if she started to look as smart as she felt.

[vitaquaarts]

What a distinguished young man, surely he will not break out a criminal on trial for his war crimes to use in a convoluted plan that is, in hindsight, batshit crazy

I blame Kairozdormu more thou considering

A). he's an adult

B.) he's a bronze dragon, yet he didn't anticipate this shit blowing up in his face?

[serpenlupus]

Dragon Visages in Lore

Ok so recently I saw @/kissfortheelves ask if Dragons could take any humanoid appearence or if the one they had was like, the one they had and that’s it. And I’ve seen a few people asking this same question, so I thought to share all that I know regarding this from my exhaustive consumption of WoW lore, in a neat little post xD Hope it helps!

Ok, so short answer is yes, by Lore, any Dragon can take any form they wish to, any time, anywhere. Shapeshifting is a magic inherent to them. However, it is stated that there’s a particular appearance they favour, the one they’re most comfortable with, and usually is the one they show themselves in when interacting with mortals.

The closest example I can give right now is Kalecgos, who looks like a half elf as his favoured visage. Although it has caused him some problems here and there (mostly during the Sunwell trilogy), he says that that’s the form he feels more comfortable in, so he doesn’t change it. Why that would make him look and sound exactly like Anduin, I’ve got no idea, but oh well

(Most of this I’m taking from what I remember from the Sunwell trilogy, so forgive me if new lore has come out that challenges this)

Another sample would be Kairozdormu the Bronze dragon, who took a male belf visage for most of pandaria, but when he took Garrosh to past Draenor, he took the appearance of a uncorrupted orc to blend in (you find him in that form in Draenor, or his corpse at least)

Then there’s Krasus/Korialstraz the Red Dragon, who has short black hair in the novels and the comics but has long blond hair In Game (¿? XD) although he remains a High Elf

I’m pretty sure there are more samples, but these are the ones I could gather from memory

It is also implied in the lore (although I’m not sure how canon this is still) that their visage can be affected by their mental state. Malygos canonically used a High elf with blue hair during the war of the ancients. However, after Deathwing’s betrayal and the almost destruction of his flight, we are told that he adopted a insect like form, small, thin like a skeleton, and covered in patches of ice. It is implied this is the result of all the grief and guilt that consumed him, which resulted in his “madness”.

Regarding gender, it’s clear that the one from the Dragon form doesn’t have to influence the one from the visage, although if this has special meaning it depends entirely on the character. Chromie/Chronormu is probably the most well known sample, as we know she transitioned from male to female (althought she kept her birthname) and took the visage of a female gnome. This is the only part where Dracthyr visage and Dragon visage seem to work the same, as there is a Dracthyr character who uses and is refered to as female in her draconic form, but is shown later in a male model visage form. The sceenshots that were shown to me were from the beta and I haven’t seen the characters in my exploration of the game yet, so I won’t say more in case this is considered a spoiler (or blizzard changed their mind).

I hope all of this was helpfull info, be nice to eachother and have fun!^^

[sekhisadventures]

Landfall

The Great Ocean, Northeast of Kul Tiras

The steam engine of the large Horde vessel hissed as it chugged along far from the shores of Durotar, having been sailing across the ocean for several long weeks but was nearing it's destination at last... which was a good thing as morale on the ship wasn’t exactly good for one passenger in particular.

Galdia Grimaxe snarled, digging through another crate of empty bottles. “There’s no fuckin’ beer?! No ale?! No NOTHING?!” she snapped.

Leaning against a wall nearby was the massive form of Nitika Dawnhoof, the tauren at least big enough to stand against the Warsong warrior woman through sheer size alone. She was a Seer, a sect of people who followed the Tauren Sun God An’she, but she was as strong as Galdia in terms of pure muscle if not in martial training.

“No Galdia, not since the last time you shouted that two hours ago…” she sighed, shaking her head. “Its not the crew’s fault you drink enough for four orcs on average.” she snorted. She had long since accepted Galdia’s heavy drinking habit, after all the woman had been through a lot. Galdia was a Mag’har after all, and the phrase ‘you can never go home again’ was extremely true for someone in her situation. The Alternate Draenor that had been created by Kairozdormu’s attempt to ferry Garrosh back in time and space to the Draenor of the past was lost to them forever with the Hourglass of Eternity destroyed and that world’s own Dark Portal in ruins… as far as they knew.

Galdia let out a loud growl and threw the crate across the hold, the box shattering against the far wall. A goblin sailor swore as he was unable to get out of the way fast enough, cringing and covering his head and eyes with his hands… only to lower them a moment later to find a shield of pure sunlight covering his body.

“Galdia!” snapped Nitika, “That’s ENOUGH! I spoke to the helmsman an hour ago and we should reach the Dragon Isles today. Can you please keep this under control until we make landfall?”

Galdia glared about her, then snorted and stood up, “FINE! Fuckin’ fine…” she spat, stomping out of the hold, “Where’s Zhan-min when I fuckin’ need that overgrown furblog…” she grumbled in annoyance.

Nitika shook her head and shrugged apologetically to the goblin, then followed her friend out of the hold. A few years ago she would have been babbling apologies and offering to help clean up, but a lot had happened since they had entered the Shadowlands. Let the crew get on with it, she had to try to make sure Galdia didn’t wreck something else.

As they emerged onto the deck the other four members of Savage United looked up. “Fuckin’ fel Galdia…” huffed Grimo, the goblin making some adjustments to his goggles using a barrel as an improvised workbench. "Do I gotta pay for damages again?"

Galdia grumbled under her breath, stomping to the edge of the ship and leaning out to watch the ocean go past. From here one could just barely make out the distant coast of the island nation of Kul Tiras. Despite the armistice the crew had made a very firm point of staying well north of the island. While Jaina Proudmoore had, after a lot of meaningful looks from some of the other leaders of the Alliance, agreed begrudgingly to abide by the terms of the cease-fire… well… many sailors still remembered the fate of her father Daelin Proudmoore and while his daughter had been absolved of the hand she’d had in his death, many of them were still all too willing to remember that it was Horde-forged weaponry that had cut him down that day in Theramore, and it wasn’t unheard of for ships to just ‘go missing’ at sea.

Grimo frowned at the orc’s back, then grunted to Nitika, “How many?” he asked in a low voice.

Nitika sighed, “One box, but it was all empty bottles.” she replied in the same tone. Grimo let out a muttered curse as their two undead companions, the Death Knight Mola’raum and the Forsaken Darkcaster Edwood shook their heads.

“I get what th’ lass is upset about, long sea voyages are a pain in th’ arse even fer Kul'Tirians… but ye gotta find somethin’ ta keep busy with or you’ll go mad ‘n drink runs out eventually.” sighed Ed. In life he was a Kul'Tirian, but the Scourge had ensured he could never go home again as anything but a potential invader.

Mola’raum just shrugged, but kept one glowing blue eye on Galdia, ready to use his Death’s Grip to yank her back if she let her temper get the better of her again.

Sekhi let out a small whine, the vulpera songstress sitting crosslegged on the floor next to Grimo’s barrel, her flute in her hands. She could hear Galdia’s song from here, an angry tempo of frustration, boredom, and an eagerness to do something. The truth of it was Galdia had cabin fever bad. She hated long sea voyages because she had to sit and wait and if there was one thing that the orc woman could not abide doing it was nothing.

She took a breath and closed her eyes, trying instead to focus on the sound of the ocean. To her shamanistic senses all the elements were different musical sounds, and all around them was a slow steady beat of drums to her. The element of Water was a drum, sometimes a small set of hand drums for smaller ponds or pools, other times a series of drums such as a fountain or a waterfall. Here it was as if there were a massive drum beating out a soothing rhythm all around them… and then… her ears twitched as a faint metallic pinking noise drifted over to her. A xylophone-like sound, the sound of Earth.

She raised her head a bit, eyes closed to hear better. All around them was the sound of water, accompanied by the flutes and horns that were the sound of wind to her ears, but Earth had joined them now… and then she heard something else. The sound of a fiddle, being played rapidly, a sort of dance-like song that made her own foot do a little jig in sympathy to it as she sat there.

“Guys!” she yipped, beginning to wag, “I hear other elements! Earth 'n Fire! I think we’re getting clo-…” she started, and then a loud cry came from the lookout.

“LAND HO!” came the voice of a troll, holding a spyglass as he pointed ahead of the ship.

The group looked ahead as Sekhi jumped to her feet, then scampered forward to the bow of the ship as several others joined along… and ahead of them on the horizon was a faint dot that slowly grew bigger and bigger…

And then came the roar.

All heads looked up as a massive green dragon banked over them, the creature’s wings making a such a huge downdraft that it sent a few of the smaller passengers facedown onto the deck. They heard a laugh from above, as if the dragon was amused by this, then it flapped again and shot ahead towards the landmass in the distance, leaving no mystery as to what they were seeing.

The Dragon Isles, the long-lost home of Dragonkind. They had arrived at last!

Sekhi’s eyes were as big as saucers as she pulled herself up onto the front of the ship, her ears twisting this way and that. She could hear the Isle’s song clearly now and it was almost overwhelming to her.

The elements of the isles were strong and pure, left untouched by the races and wars of Azeroth for centuries. Its song filled her ears and mind and the Spirit of the island, the souls of dragons long past singing a joyful chorus to welcome their kin home after so long away. Her tail was practically a blur behind her as the island slowly grew from a dot to where the details could be seen even with the naked eye, and a dock came into view next to a massive volcanic mountain as one of the Blood Elf members of the crew laughed out, “Welcome to the Dragon Isles, adventurers!”

“About fuckin’ time.” smirked Galdia, the orc heading to the side of the boat even before the crew had the gangplank set up as everyone else gathered their things and made ready to disembark.

“Grimo, are we meeting up with Avalon?” asked Nitika, the tauren glancing down at the goblin.

Grimo just shrugged, “Eh, search me Nitts. We’ll run into ‘em eventually. Heard th’ Alliance has their half of the expedition set up near where we’re landin’.” he grunted.

Sekhi was the first off the boat, darting past even Galdia’s eager legs as she scampered down onto the coastline, her head twisting this way and that as she took it all in. The shamaness had heard a taste of the song that night in Dalaran when the Isles revealed themselves, but this was… well… it was so much more. It was hard for her to even keep upright… she wobbled a bit on her footpaws for a moment, then a voice cut through the song.

“Er, are you well?” asked a woman’s voice.

Sekhi shook her head to clear it, then looked back behind her.

Standing there was Laura Brightflame, the woman they’d met when they first got on the boat back in Durotar. She stood there in a long set of white robes holding a silver and blue staff with a draconic motif to it, her long blue and pink hair tied back into a messy ponytail.

“Oh um, yeah sorry… I can just… um… I can hear so much! Its… wow… yeah…” she stammered, looking around. Laura’s intervention had snapped her out of her initial reverie and now that she could focus she noticed something else.

Not all of the song she was hearing was good.

There were undertones of anger and betrayal causing a discord with the song of the Isles as a whole… but Sekhi couldn’t pinpoint where they were coming from. “Huh, that’s odd… I hear something else…” she muttered, her ears flicking back and forth.

“Something else? Like what?” asked Nitika as she caught up with her. Sekhi’s ability to hear Azeroth’s song was a good indicator if there may be trouble.

“I dunno… something… angry? Like there’s someone on th' island that don’t want us here… or don’t want… anyone here?” she tried to focus, catching a few hints of the Spirit of the song… “… lies… they lied… I hear…” and then the angrier parts of the song began to get louder, very quickly.

Sekhi’s eyes flew open, the vulpera’s fur raising on her hackles. “EVERYONE! LOOK OUT!” she cried!

From inside the landing area came a sudden cry of alarm as one of the tents that the Reliquary’s explorers had set up suddenly exploded into flames, another one falling into an ever-widening chasm as the earth seemed to open up underneath it, the gap reaching the sea as oceanwater rushed into drown the unfortunate occupant.

“KILL THEM ALL! DRIVE TH’ HORDE FROM THE ISLES! FOR TH’ INCARNATES!” came a loud roar from above, and then roars came from all around as two dozen more figures burst from the bushes and rocks surrounding the camp.

On the cliffs nearby stood a furious looking dark iron dwarf, her body wreathed in flames as she directed a staff towards them.

Grimo rushed up next to Nitika, his rifle already in his hands. “A dwarf?! The fuck is going on?! Alliance stabbin’ us in the back?” he snapped.

Mola’raum shook his head, the troll unholstering his spear, “Don’t be assumin’ tings mon! She said ‘de incarnates!’” he snapped back, “Who be dey?” he asked.

Laura however, took a step back, shaking her head. “No… no no no…” whispered the human-guised dracthyr, her eyes wide.

The members of Savage United glanced at her, then Galdia shrugged, “Eh fuck it, they’re attackin’ us! This is exactly what I need!” she grinned as she unsheathed her pandaren-made claymore, “LOK’TAR OGAR!” she roared, charging into the fray as the camp’s defenders tried to rally from the sudden surprise attack.

Grimo shrugged, “She’s right about this at least. SAVAGE UNITED! ATTAAAAAAAAACK!” he shouted as the other members sprang into action.

Mola’raum immediately charged in next to Galdia, snapping his fingers as the runes on his spear flared brightly, a ghoul bursting free of the dirt next to him with a guttural cry before the undead beast threw itself at a nearby attacker.

Sekhi shook her head, the song pounding in her ears now, but she’d learned a lot from her time working in Tirisfal Glades… she couldn’t turn it off, but she had found a way to help block out the worst effects. She raised her flute to her muzzle, and a loud series of notes cut through the cries of combat as the skies rumbled above and a bolt of lightning arced down into one of the attackers, sending them flying to land at Edwood’s feet.

The Forsaken looked down, then made a face, “Tides Below…” he muttered. The one leading the attackers was a dwarf… but the one who had been crisped by Sekhi’s attack was an orc! “LADS! THIS AIN’T TH’ ALLIANCE! THERE’S ORCS AMONG THEIR CREW!” he called out over the sounds of battle.

Galdia brought her sword around in a fierce arc, the metal rebounding off a weapon drawn up to block it just in time, as she came face to face with a Darkspear Troll warrior, his blade and body shimmering in a heat haze as if he was about to burst into flames himself. She grinned, then headbutted him right in the face, smashing his nose and snapping one of his tusks in half, and as he stumbled backwards she ran him through the chest!

“Trolls too!” called back Nitika, “Who are these guys… EVERYONE! TRY TO TAKE ONE OF THEM ALIVE!” she called out.

Galdia laughed, “Alive? Sure! Not like they need all their arms and legs right?!” she grinned, bringing her sword around again at a Draenei’s body… and then with a loud crack she stumbled, staring at her blade.

At most of her blade.

The sword had snapped cleanly in half, the rest clattering away across the battlefield.

Galdia’s head came around just in time to see a fist approaching her face at speed, made out of something hard and brown, and then she was flying backwards as she was knocked clear off her feet!

The Draenei sneered. He was a tall man, dressed in the same sort of shamanistic garb as the rest of the attackers but his arms and chest were covered in a carapace of solid rock, his hands transformed into wicked bolder-like fists.

Nitika saw this and sent a burst of sunlight at him, but it barely slowed him down. “GUYS! GALDIA IS DOWN!” she called out in warning.

… but the others didn’t hear her over the cries of battle, and she was too far away.

A bit further away Laura Brightflame was not in a good place mentally. The sounds of combat, the elemental chaos, and the smell of blood were affecting her badly. Her mind kept flashing back to that dark day twenty thousand years ago. Her heart and head were pounding, her hands clenched against her temples so hard her knuckles were turning white… and then she heard the voice of that tauren woman she’d met on the boat.

Her pink eyes snapped open and she saw Nitika trying to rush towards the body of a fallen orc, that one that had been causing all that trouble in the galley. Suddenly she saw an ancient battlefield, and a fallen humanoid with crimson scales and large wings covered in blood, gasping for breath, reaching out a clawed hand to her as if to beg for aid…

Her breath caught, and instinct took over.

“STAY BACK!” she roared at the advancing Draenei, and a pair of massive azure-scaled wings erupted from her back, the membranes between the long scaley digits the white of fresh-fallen snow, and she flapped them hard, the scales glowing with a rainbow of colors as a swirl of wind to match any tornado slammed into Galdia’s attacker!

He stood his ground, but the blast of wind forced him to a stop as he glared at her. “EVOKER! THAT ONE IS AN EVOKER!” he called out to his allies as several more of the attackers turned towards Laura.

Nitika managed to make it to Galdia and began to heal her as she looked up at Laura. She’d seen a few around Orgrimmar after Ebonhorn arrived, but she hadn't seen one in this form up close.

Laura’s expression was wild, her hair swirling about her as her wings flexed, and suddenly she just changed.

Azure scales erupted along her skin as her robes seemed to unravel, becoming a crimson chest-wrap and breechcloth, her face elongating into a lizard-like snout, and a huge reptilian tail stretching out behind her.

For Laura Brightflame, everything else just went away. All she saw was the Draenei, the Primalist, before her. All the instincts that Neltharion had worked into her mind took charge, and she stopped pretending to be anything but Laurelgosa, a dracthyr.

Laurelgosa lashed out with a wave of Obsidian energies and the ground erupted under him, sending him prone as his own weight was suddenly used against him! The stone armor was powerful, but it had made him top-heavy!

As he struggled to regain his balance she leapt into the air, and several of the Horde’s veterans cried out as they saw something that some of the oldest, the ones who remembered the earliest days of Thrall’s rule knew all too well.

She soared towards him, flames flickering around her mouth, and then exhaled a titanic blast of flames and magic below her. The draenei barely had time to scream as the burst of dragonfire fell upon him. When it faded all that was left was his stone armor wrapped around a few charred fragments of bone, one arm still raised in a defensive position.

The other attackers cried out in fury and horror at their ally’s fate, flinging abuse and insults at Laura.

“Abomination!” they called her. “Titan-twisted monster!”

Laurelgosa heard none of it. She was in her true form, and there was an enemy. She hissed, then flapped into the air and channeled the power of the Azure into her wings, and almost two dozen bolts of magic shot out around her into her foes, slamming holes in armor and knocking weapons flying.

But there were quite a lot of them and Laurelgosa was an Evoker… but she was just ONE Evoker.

From among the attackers came the crackle of electricity, and a blast of lightning erupted from among their ranks! Laurelgosa froze, remembering the fury of another creature who used such powers, the half-remembered horror paralyzing her.

Then the lightning bolt hit a shield of sunlight, sparks arcing all over her form, unable to connect through the barrier.

Nitika lowered her staff, Galdia already back on her feet, holding her broken weapon… and there was murder in the orc’s eyes. That sword was special to her, and it was broken. The draenei who’d done it was dead, but someone was going to PAY.

She sheathed the broken sword, then snatched up the axe of a fallen Primalist and charged in as the defenders rallied themselves.

Another Primalist tried to fire off a spell only for a blast of wind to smack him across the face, then another bolt of lightning to slam down into him, sending him sprawling as Sekhi continued her song on her flute, driving and influencing the Air in the area to their defense even as the Primalists fought to control it.

Several burst into flames as Edwood channeled his fel magicks into them, the fires they became engulfed in not the ones they wielded but the corrupted green fires of demon magic. A couple even tried to dive into the ocean, but it didn’t help. Felfire wouldn’t go out until the victim died, even if they were underwater.

Two of them tried to take aim at Edwood, seeing what he’d done to their allies, and with a loud pair of bangs they both went down with bullet holes in their heads as Grimo popped open his rifle and loaded in a new pair of slugs.

And on and on and on and on until finally only one stood, backing away slowly. The dwarf who’d been leading the attack had vanished and he stood alone against the ambush’s survivors, all of whom were VERY angry with him to say the least.

A single dwarf, not a dark iron, but looking ready to fight his way out rather than surrender regardless. Suddenly, there was a loud roar as Galdia burst through the crowd, and the last thing that dwarf saw before the darkness came was her fist heading straight for his face.

He awoke half an hour later, his wrists tied securely behind him, with Grimo, Nitika, and Mola’raum nearby along with the leader of the Reliquary’s agents. Sekhi was near as well, the vulpera unable to ignore the fact that the song she’d heard earlier, the angry one, sounded just like this dwarf’s song.

“So, you can make him talk?” asked the Blood Elven man, wearing the long crimson robes his people were known for.

“Oh yeah, easy peasy for Nitts here.” replied Grimo, “You, uh, need somewhere private to…” he asked her, giving the tauren a sidelong glance.

Nitika sighed, “No… just…” she shook her head, closing her eyes, then when she opened them again they were a deep violet. “There we go, my turn.” she grinned, reaching out a hand as a faint whispering began to fill the air around her.

The dwarf glared, struggling against his bonds, but they had been tied securely. “Do yer worst.” he snarled.

She smirked, “Be careful what you wish for shorty.” replied Nitika Darkhoof, her hand taking on a dark aura as her eyes glowed purple… then suddenly Nitika cried out and clutched at her head as her staff clattered to the ground. “AUGH!” she screamed, stepping back from the dwarf. “I… I can’t get into his mind! Its like a wall of fire in the way!” she gasped.

The dwarf laughed, “That’s right! I’m protected from th’ likes of ye!” he spat, “Torture me all ye want! I ain’t sayin’ a damn word!” he retorted.

There was a bit of an audience to this, several others in the camp wanted answers after all. Murmurs arose from the crowd as the others considered things from alchemical truth serums to engineering devices and the like, and then a voice said, “Hey, troll. Yer a death knight aye? Ye can control dead people?”

Mola’raum pointed to himself quizzically, then nodded, “Um… yah, I can be doin’ dat… but dey don’t always be givin’ clear answ-…” he started.

“Good enough!” the voice said, and then there was a bang and the dwarf jerked into the air and landed on his side, smoke rising from a bullet hole in his head! Several cries came from the crowd, and a few laughs (there’s always a few who appreciate directness,) as a vulpera strode into view.

He was dressed in seafarer’s garb, with a cutlass on one hip and an axe on his other, blowing smoke off the barrel of a flintlock pistol. “There ye go, wake him back up ‘n make him tell ye.” he nodded.

Mola’raum blinked slowly, “Uh… ya fooked up ‘is brain mon. I dunno how much I be gettin’ now…” he replied.

The vulpera paused, lowering his pistol. “… that matters?” he asked.

“YA IT FOOKIN’ MATTER!” shouted Mola’raum, throwing up his arms. “De brain be where he keep all de memories! If ya fook up da wrong part de memories might be gone, or ‘e might not be able ta talk no more! Why ya be tinkin’ necromancers always be fookin’ careful wit dat bit?!”

A loud groan went up from the crowd as the Reliquary’s leader rubbed his temples. The vulpera winced, his ears folding back, “I… um… oops… w-well, I’ll just be shovin’ off then aye?” he tried… and then he noticed something.

Sekhi’s eyes were locked onto him, and her muzzle was hanging open. One arm was extended, and her finger was pointing right at him in shock.

“… wait…” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at her. “Oh bloody fel it can’t b-…” he started.

“JEEM!” she yipped loudly, rushing forward and pouncing him to the ground, her tail wagging like a blur behind her as the crowd stepped back. The male vulpera yelped and managed to keep from landing prone, but otherwise was knocked off his feet.

“SHIT! Sekhi?! What th’ fel are ye doing here?!” he yipped, looking more shocked and worried than anything.

“ME?!” she chattered back, “What are YOU doing here?!” she yipped excitedly, “Ya disappeared from Vol’dun years ago! We all thought ya were dead!”

“Er… w-well I did exactly what I told ye I was gonna do! I joined th' Bloodsails 'n became a powerful 'n feared pirate captain!” he replied, holding up his pistol for emphasis.

From behind him however came a faint gurgling sound, a wet guttural chattering as if a fish had learned how to talk.

Sekhi’s ears flicked, then she peeked behind him, and saw an infant murloc staring back at her. It was seated in an eggshell that had been turned into a sort of makeshift litter that Jeemjazo was wearing as a backpack.

“Murblblbhgbhbl. Mrublblglbhgl.” said the murloc.

She nodded at it, then looked at him. “He says your ship smashed inta his village, ya killed your captain, 'n then ya just left with him.” she nodded to Jeemjazo.

The vulpera boy stared at her, “… wait, YE SPEAK MURLOC?!” he yipped. “I didn’t even know he was doin’ anything besides just makin’ noises! I mean he’s just a baby!”

“Well no, but I can hear his song 'n its tellin' me what he’s trying to say.” she nodded.

“… his what?” asked Jeemjazo, cocking his head.

“Oh right! After ya disappeared, I started hearin' Azeroth's voice! Imma Shaman!” she grinned, wagging. “Oh wow! I gotta tell ma! We never found out what happened to ya 'n your ma came with the rest of th' caravan to Orgrimmar too! She’ll be so happy!”

Jeemjazo cringed, “Sekhi, jeez… no, seriously, please…” he whined as Murgly Jim, the murloc baby, let out a wet sounding gurgle that might have been a laugh.

As the two childhood friends reunited Mola’raum looked over the dwarf’s corpse, then shrugged at the others, “Eh, be worth a shot…” he sighed, reaching out his spear as the runes flared. Turning a formerly living person into an undead monster like a ghoul was easy… but bringing them back was hard, especially if the Kyrians had already claimed their soul. However, the dwarf had only just died so maybe…

The dwarf’s body twitched, then gasped as it slowly eased itself back up into a sitting position, it’s eyes glowing with the same witch-light as Mola’raum’s.

“Right den, ya be me dwarf now… who ya be workin’ fer? Why ya be attackin’ de camp?” he spat out.

“… ubuhg… gubhaaaaahn… guhg…” replied the zombified Primalist, a stream of something dripping out of the hole Jeemjazo’s shot had left.

“… crap. Say somethin’ mon?” he tried.

The dwarf’s jaw worked, but nothing recognizable came out of it. The bullet had either torn up the language center of his brain, or simply done enough damage to effectively lobotomize him. Mola’raum sighed, then snapped his fingers as the dwarf fell over with what almost sounded like a relieved sigh, his body going still once more as he went from undead to simply dead.

Mola’raum shook his head, “No good bruddah.” he shrugged, looking to the Reliquary’s leader. “I can make dem talk, but only if dey got enough brain ta be talkin’.”

“Yes… well…” nodded the elf, clearly put off by the display but only just. He was part of the Reliquary after all, it was hardly the first time he’d seen a dead body. “I appreciate the attempt. Pity that vulpera had to get in the way.” he sighed.

“Eh… we’ll figure it out soon enough.” said Grimo, “If these guys is ballsy enough to attack th’ Horde directly then it’s a good bet th’ locals have run into ‘em too.” he said, taking a drag on his cigar, “Besides, that other dwarf is the one I’m worried about. Notice how she took off th' second we started winnin’?”

Mola’raum and Nitika nodded to each other. A brave leader stays to fight to the bitter end, a smart one knows when to run for it. Still, not even ten minutes on the island and they were already in the thick of it again. What the hell would tomorrow bring after an introduction like that? What other dangers might be awaiting them on the Dragon Isles?

Across the Island, near the Obsidian Citadel

A young dragon roared in fury, shaking it’s head as it pulled against the restraints holding it down. It was a black dragon, barely more than a drake really, and it was in severe distress.

“LET ME GO! I WON’T SUBMIT TO YOU! I REFUSE!” snarled the wyrm, attempting to unleash a gout of molten breath upon it’s captor, but as hard as it tried the burning power wouldn’t come.

“Oh shut yer gob…” sneered the captor as she flexed her claws, glowing with fel energies. “I need a ways ta get ‘round this bloody island, ‘n yer me ticket fer that once I give yez an… attitude adjustment.”

Dissonantia grinned as she gestured again, the dragon screaming in pain as felfire streaked across it’s mind and soul, wrapping it in chains as psychological and spiritual as they were real. Its glowing red eyes flashed a deep fel green as it shook it’s head frantically… but the black dragonflight had long been corrupted by the madness of the Old Gods and even though their masters were gone or imprisoned the marks they left were still there.

All Dissonantia had to do was reach into the hollow they had left behind and fill it with her own power.

The dragon let out one last cry, then went still as its eyes glowed with felfire.

“I… will serve…” it gasped out, it’s chest heaving as it felt horror at it’s own words.

“Attaboy…” she chuckled, “Azzy, looks like we got a new pet…” she grinned over her shoulder.

Az’arad sneered at the dragon, his own body showing several claw marks and burns. He had worked with Cenoon and Xelkek to bring the dragon to heel long enough for Dissonantia to restrain it for the rest of her spell, and he was relishing seeing the creature broken.

“Roight then… Dragon Isles! Oughta be lotsa useful shite here fer a discernin’ lady like me.” she cackled as she snapped her fingers and with a woosh of flames a saddle appeared on it’s back, set with fel runes of compulsion, control, and dominance. The dragon let out a whimper of despair, but otherwise said nothing. “Climb on Azzy, lets see wot mischief wez can get upta.” she nodded, climbing up onto the dragon’s back as Az’arad followed her, seated behind his Mistress.

The felfire chains fell away and the dragon spread it’s wings, then took to the skies with it’s two riders, as Dissonantia extended her senses across the isles… seeking a new source of power, a weapon to use against her enemies.

Next Story

Previous Story

[dinah-mary-myles]

Kissy dragons (Kalecgos and Kairozdormu)

[heatherdavissayshi]

#Kairozdormu 🦎💛📷 #reptile #reptiles #petreptile #petreptiles #reptilesofinstagram #reptilesofig #reptilesofinsta #reptilesrule #beardeddragon #beardeddragons #beardeddragonsofinstagram #beardie #beardies #beardielove #beardiesofinstagram #lizard #lizards #lizardsofinstagram #reptilephotography #petphotography #pets #exoticpets #lizardphotography #reptilelife #reptilekeeper #instalizard #animals #nikon https://www.instagram.com/heatherdavissayshi/p/Buq0sP9BHvG/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1l06icq6a7vvc

[frostytheelf]

There isn't enough Kairozdormu Art out there so I drew my own.

[b0kko]

still god damn salty over him................

[aethermage1]

Third flight!

The bronze dragons, the second flight I’m going to assume will be pivotal in this expansion. 1. Nozdormu, the leader of the dragons who has had his fate foretold. Now, here are the options. He’s gone crazy, or he’s going to die, and I lean more towards him dying(Not because i don’t like Nozdormu. I find him awesome) but because I think his death vision changed. Go, look back at the Cataclysm end cinematic. His behavior is more...distracted and unaware then it normally is. Ysera/Kalec are just there listening while alexstraza talks to thrall. Noz? He’s feeling the drain of his power, and i think in that final moment, before the powers vanished, he saw his death rewritten. Maybe just me though who knows! 2- Anachronos, in either case his son’s going to take over. And he’s going to need allies. Meaning he may seek out the heroes of azeroth to help alongside Wrathion.  3. Chromie. Do I need to say more? Best gnome dragon is going to turn up if the bronzes do- I would LOVE some answers for chromietime though. 4- theory- Kairozdormu. Yes- the dragon who was literally backstabbed by garrosh. I’ve wondered for ages, just how an infinite dragon would be created, and maybe we figured it out but did not chase the threads well enough. Maybe the infinite are allied with the light, and because of that kairoz’s rise is imminent. 

[katieskarlette]

Tag Index - Warcraft Dragons

[Miscellaneous]  [General Warcraft]  [Dragons]  [Non-Dragon Characters]

Warcraft Dragons

#rambling about dragons again -- Kind of a catch-all tag for Warcraft dragon discussion, from short jokes to longer meta posts

#draconic aging and #draconic breeding -- These tags cover discussion of and speculation on these aspects of dragon lore.

#there’s absolutely nothing wrong with RPing as a dragon -- The (unnecessarily long) tag says it all.

The Black Dragonflight

The Black Dragonflight – In general / misc.

Wrathion – The Black Prince is my favorite, so this is a huge tag full of discussion, screenshots, meta and general squeeing.  In addition to his main tag there are also:

Wrathion pictures -- Artwork featuring Wrathion

wrathywhelp -- Art or text focused on Wrathion as an adorable whelp

Aaron Phillips -- Wrathion's voice actor

BFF princes -- Posts focusing on Wrathion's friendship with Anduin

A boy and his whelp -- Anduin and dragon-form Wrathion

AWOL whelp -- Posts lamenting the scarcity of Wrathion between MoP and Dragonflight

Left and Right -- His faithful bodyguards

wrathidad -- Posts about the quest line with Wrathion and the time-lost whelps that was in Legion alpha but removed before launch

Game of Obsidian Thrones -- Posts about the Wrathion vs. Sabellian conflict in Dragonflight

Fahrad is another of my favorites, and in my headcanon he’s Wrathion’s biological father.  See also #number one dad Fahrad and #actual dad Fahrad.  (I have an alt named Fahradion who runs around Azeroth having #au fahrad adventures.)

Let’s not forget Wrathion’s mother, Nyxondra!  (See also the screenshots of #au nyxondra adventures.)

Or his Auntie Onyxia!  Her human guise is usually tagged as both Onyxia and Katrana Prestor.  (See also #au onyxia adventures.)

Everyone’s favorite draconic mad scientist, Nefarian, has his own tag.  (See also #au romathion adventures, the screenshot series featuring my uncorrupted version of him.  Oh, and I ship him with Rheastrasza.  I know it seems random, but read my fics.)

Obsidia – Another one of Deathwing’s daughters, who is sort of an original character and sort of canon.  Long story.

There is, of course, a tag for Deathwing, as well as a Neltharion tag for his pre-corruption self.  Ditto for Sintharia a.k.a. Sinestra.

The Ebonhorn tag should cover everything about the Highmountain Spiritwalker, while his dragon form is usually tagged as both Ebonhorn and Ebyssian.  (See also #au ebyssian adventures.)

Sabellian is back from Outland with a less tacky outfit, competing with his nephew for the Obsidian Throne.

The rest of the family:  Atramedes ~ Darkblaze ~ Emberstrife ~ Kalaran (a.k.a. Velarok) ~ Myzerian ~ Nalice ~ Sartharion ~ Searinox ~ Serinar ~ Teremus

Oh, and Zardeth is totally a black dragon and no one can convince me otherwise.

Wrath of Sabellian – Reblogs, commentary, and fanart related to the amazing, novel-length fanfic epic by Yulon about Sabellian and Wrathion.

The Blue Dragonflight

Blue Dragonflight (general/misc)

Malygos

Sindragosa

Kalecgos 

Senegos, Stellagosa, and Emmigosa

Tarecgosa

My original character Ceruleagosa

The Bronze Dragonflight

Bronze Dragonflight (general/misc)

Nozdormu

Soridormi

Chromie

Kairozdormu

The Infinite Dragonflight

Infinite Dragonflight (general/misc)

Murozond

The Green Dragonflight

Green Dragonflight (general/misc)

Ysera

Eranikus

Merithra

Nightmare Dragons

The Red Dragonflight

Red Dragonflight (general/misc)

Alexstrasza

Korialstrasz

Rheastrasza (see also my #AU Rheastrasza adventures)

Lillistrasza

Veritistrasz

My original character Cybelastrasza)

Other Dragonflights and Related Topics

The Chromatic Dragonflight (and my original character, Nith)

The Netherwing Dragonflight

The Twilight Dragonflight

Frost Wyrms  (see also Sindragosa)

Storm Dragons a.k.a. Thorignir

Void dragons

Elemental dragons

Protodragons and Galakrond

Primal Incarnates and Raszageth

Dracthyr

Cloud serpents (known in large numbers as a flock of rainbow noodles)

See also catchall tags like #multiple dragonflights, #many whelps, and the hypothetical violet dragonflight

[trickerycleric]

Wrathion created the Iron Horde & fueled their atrocities(including multiple genocides) of his free will & never apologized for any of it, he was only sorry he failed. Sabellian was shown in Beyond the Dark portal to be acting under Deathwing's thrall & to be significantly less evil then Deathwing. Wrathion is easily a far worse person even without all his other vices.

1) WRATHION DIDNT CREATE THE IRON HORDE?????????? yes his actions led UP to the creation of the iron horde but he didnt CREATE THEM??? he let garrosh out, fucked off, and then kairozdormu is the one who actually helped create the iron horde. and lest we forget, wrathion was also manipulated by the infinite dragonflight - plus, wrathion wasn’t in draenor at all until later.

2) while we don’t have an explicit apology from wrathion, he does say he deserved getting that wicked punch from anduin, which does show some regret. we also see this in the quest post-killing n’zoth on heroic for the first time.

[jerek]

in your eyes, you're holding mine

Kairoz sees through Midha, and Midha sees through Kairoz.

Midha staggered out of the arena-- propping herself up on legs she couldn't feel. Colt legs, she guessed, though she'd always wanted to be more like a gazelle or one of those high-elven steeds.

Colt legs. She wiped away what felt like sweat and dust on her face, and found her palms smudged with red.

"Oh, dear."

Who was that?

A broad hand pulled her in one direction, and she toppled that way-- falling into the side of someone who wore delicate cloth. Not Wrathion, she thought, Wrathion wasn't here. But he sounded... strange.

"You'll have to take care not to overexert yourself," he said. "Come along, now." The same hand snuck under her arm, a moment before she stumbled; a moment before she was swept back up onto her feet and into long strides. Whoever it was, he was tall.

She wheezed, dabbing at her mouth now: thankfully, no blood. "Where are we going?" she asked, hoarse and soft.

A thoughtful sound. "You cannot see?"

"It's bright," she said.

"Well. We won't go far."

She nodded. As always, she was wary. But there were guards here, and the two princes would notice if she was gone long. Not that she planned to be.

She turned her head to the shaded side of the man guiding her. And she opened her eyes, still squinting: pale robes. Strands of long, pin-straight blonde hair that only waved where his shoulder bent it.

His voice sounded familiar: moreso when they stepped into a tent.

"Sit here, please." He tapped twice on a chair, which she blinked at twice before she was confident enough to sit without falling.

It was dimmer here, underneath fabric the same color as his robes. And this stranger was... not a high elf, no.

Kairoz. Or 'Kairozdormu--' the bronze dragon she'd been introduced to.

"I thought they healed everyone who fights the Celestials," Midha remarked.

Midha closed her eyes again, willing away a headache, and tried to focus on Kairoz's voice. "It would seem so. Unless you left too quickly."

They were always healing whole parties at a time. It made sense. "I might have."

Something soft grazed her cheek.

"Forgive me," he said. "I would undo your wounds, but such magic is less reliable here." Nonchalantly, he wiped the filth and blood from her face. It was a dampened kerchief, brushed in small circles. He was more delicate about it than she had any reason to expect.

Really, she didn't expect anything from him.

"Does it look bad?" she asked, slightly smiling.

"You were lucky, I'd say. If you have no scars yet, I doubt this will leave any."

"That's good." She didn't much care for her own looks, but she knew who would. Better to just not have any scars. "I didn't know dragons had kerchiefs."

His lips quirked up at the ends. "Not many of mortal make could survive in our use." As he spoke, he pulled away, offering a hand-mirror and searching with his other hand for something else.

Midha held the mirror, beholding her own face. Her eyes looked puffy, and one was maybe starting to bruise. Her nose... she felt for the cartilage there, and counted herself lucky that it was intact. "I hope I don't go to Orgrimmar all beat-up like this."

"Speaking of!" Kairoz grinned as though something in his oven had just finished baking. "I've seen glimpses of your path. You intend to join the Siege, correct?"

"Whenever it happens," Midha answered. "I think it'll be soon, it's just that everyone talks about deposing Garrosh. From the king down to us."

"Be that as it may, when it does come to pass, you'll need to be prepared." Kairoz paused, then added: "It's my impression that the Black Prince expects you to behead Hellscream yourself."

She could feel the smile on her face-- there of its own volition. "I'll cut in line."

"One must take initiative in matters like these," he replied. "In this new 'Age of Mortals,' I fear my flight struggles to know which way fate flows, let alone regulate the course of history."

He passed whatever he'd been looking for into his right hand so smoothly and quickly that Midha didn't think to look until he'd closed his fingers again.

"But here," he tapped his knuckles once against an ornate hourglass beside him, "is an invention of mine. With it, I can regain some of the sight I've lost."

His fingers unfurled. There was a small, mundane-enough stone. He overturned Midha's own hand, and pressed the stone into her palm: as soon as it touched her skin, she felt a pull like that of a portal or hearthstone.

"Stones like these form within the bodies of all creatures on the Timeless Isle. The sands of time gather in deposits, and those deposits can be broken down to fuel visions of future events."

Midha's eyes had settled on the stone, and the long, pale fingers that put it in her hand. His nails pushed just a little too hard. "You want me to find these stones," she guessed.

"I want a co-conspirator," he said, and his amusement was evident in his voice. "The same as you are with the Black Prince. It's simple enough to see your talent in combat, but the hourglass has shown me that perhaps you, too, have an invention."

She blinked. But she knew what he meant: something he couldn't use, that she doubted any of these hard-handed, soft-voiced, tall-standing men could have a purpose for... because it was like holding hands.

But he was holding her hand now. "Will I be able to see the visions, too?" she asked.

"Of course. I expect you may feature in them." He left the epoch stone with her, presumably so she'd remember what they looked like. "Five more like that one could show us a scene."

...Deliberately, she nodded.

A more familiar voice called out from a short way across the arena: "Champion? Midha--" she could imagine him turning to an agent-- "where is Midha?"

"Go to him," Kairoz said, suddenly guiding her up onto her feet and toward the tent's curtain. "And don't tell him we've spoken here. He'll get jealous."

[swampgallows]

Many times I had asked @captainkaprozyx if prints were available of their works, of their “Barrens” piece especially. Instead, I have been so blessed by @sdei and humbled in being sent the original artwork.

Barrens is a piece of monumental emotional importance to me. The colors, style, and mixed-media strokes are reminiscent of Vincent Van Gogh’s, particularly in two specific works: Wheatfield with Crows (1890) and Irises (1889). 

Many with only passing knowledge of Van Gogh do not realize that the bulk of his paintings—especially his most famous—were all created over the course of a single year. It was the “Asylum Year”, as Van Gogh had admitted himself to the Saint-Paul asylum at Saint-Rémy and utilized painting as a form of grounding and therapy. 

Irises was the very first of these “asylum paintings” and also one of the flagship merchandise designs at my old workplace. Although I enjoyed working there, I struggled so severely with mental illness and suicidal ideation that I eventually had to leave. Seeing the irises evokes bittersweet memories of being functional and part of society, but also suffering without access to treatment.

Wheatfield with Crows is purported to be Van Gogh’s final painting before allegedly committing suicide in the same wheatfield in Saint-Rémy. Whether or not it truly was his final painting is still under debate, but it remains significant in heralding the end of an era (and the Wheatfield series). Much as Van Gogh felt he had to take advantage of the “intervals” of “calm” to be productive between periods of mental illness, I felt that the windows of time I had between suicidal episodes were becoming shorter and shorter. My own journey to such wheatfields seemed inevitable. 

For me, Barrens combines these two paintings and their emotional weight so beautifully. Obviously, it features a character who is extremely important to me for his own struggles with mental illness. But the piece is aesthetically beautiful, both spring and autumn all at once. And in that way it is both a start and an end to things, as is the moment it represents within the Warcraft universe: murdering the traitorous bronze dragon Kairozdormu with his shackled hands, Garrosh Hellscream attempts to break free of that timeline and forge a new destiny for himself in a world where he was never meant to belong. Not his grass, not his sky, but he dared to exist there anyway. 

The wheatfields of Nagrand are behind him, stained with someone else’s blood. The gnarled grasses reminiscent of the irises—a symbol of productivity and recovery, “the lightning conductor for my illness”—lie before him. 

Though definitely not on the same terms as Garrosh, I too hope to dare to exist. I want to dare to be alive in this world. I want to break free and forge my own destiny.

Kaprozyx, you are an amazingly talented artist. Please know I will treasure your work and your generous gifts forever. I cannot thank you enough.

[theveneratedwolf]

[ embrace ] for Varian to pull Jaina into a tight embrace

The Violet Rise on the Isle of Thunder was both buzzing with activity, yet eerily quiet at the same time. It had been several hours since the end of Garrosh’s trial at the Temple of the White Tiger. The orc had escaped with the help of Kairozdormu and a gang of Garrosh’s own supporters. So many people had fallen in the wake of the dragon’s treachery, but, blessedly, many had been saved by Chi-Ji.

Varian stood hidden between two tents, waiting patiently for the person he sought. What he had witnessed during the chaos continued to play repeatedly through his mind. The fighting, the sniper, the fire…

The blood.

His hands clenched into fists as the king shut his eyes. There had been so much blood. All from one person, so so quickly.

Looking back, Varian realized how stupid he’d been leaving the safety of the temple to go outside. He had been unarmored and using a weapon ill suited for the situation. He should’ve taken cover after the first sniper shot from the air ships above. It had been sheer idiocy not to after he’d been hit in the side by a shot. The wound had slowed him, allowing Zaela to get too close. She’d almost had him if it hadn’t been for Jaina.

He remembered the flash from the fireball smashing into Zaela’s back and looking over to see Jaina out on the terrace with him. Joy had rushed through him at seeing her, only to have the feeling turn to icy fear as another shot from the sniper cracked through the air to strike her. Blood had bloomed over her robes, spreading at a heart stopping rate as she’d fallen to the ground.

Varian hadn’t seen Zaela run off, hadn’t cared, his mind narrowing to reaching his fallen friend. His own side had throbbed as he’d crawled to her, blood already pooling around her body. Her chest had made horrible crackling noises as she tried to breathe. Futilely, Varian had tried to put pressure on the wound, to slow the bleeding as his gaze swept frantically over the open terrace. There had to have been a healer near! There had to have been!

But there hadn’t been.

A cold hand had touched his, jerking Varian’s attention back to Jaina. One hand grasped the hands covering the bullet wound, while her other hand had reached up to touch his face as she tried to speak. She’d only choked and coughed up blood.

All the while, her eyes had been calm.

Gritting his teeth, Varian had gathered his fading friend in his arms and limped towards the temple.

“Hang on Jaina,” he’d repeated over and over. His side throbbing, hindering his ability to walk with any speed. “Please hang on.” He swore he’d make it in time.

Please Light, Varian had pleaded silently, not her too. I can’t fail her too.

He hadn’t made it. Jaina had died on the arena floor.

He’d been too late.

Varian swallowed hard and clenched his jaw before taking a deep breath. The air of the island was humid, but cool, dampening some of the fury he felt towards himself. He’d failed Jaina, again. Fortunately, Anduin, his bright, wonderful son who loved his self chosen ‘auntie,’ had not given up. His hope and determination moved Chi-Ji enough to save her. The August Celestial had saved all of them.

Footsteps pulled him from his musings. Stilling, he listened closely to the gate and the shifting of cloth.

It was her.

Listening further, Varian assured himself she was alone. Not wanting to impose, he’d given Kalec all the time he’d needed to be with her after the horrific event. Varian knew the pain of losing one so dear to him. Kalec, damn him or bless him, had gotten his beloved back, and Varian hadn’t wanted to intrude on that precious time.

But she was alone now. He could finally tell her something he’d desperately needed to say when her eyes had opened again.

Lightning fast, Varian reached out and gently snatched Jaina’s wrist. With equal gentleness belying the speed, Varian pulled her between the tents into a tight embrace. She’d squeaked in surprise, Light praise her, she squeaked, but her surprise faded quickly when she realized who held her.

Varian inhaled deeply to calm himself again, only to be enveloped by the scent of lavender, vanilla, and magic. Jaina was warm, a relief compared to the chilling cold she’d been mere hours ago.

Against his better judgement, Varian pressed a kiss to the top of her head before saying, “Thank you Jaina.” He held her as tight as he dared, “Thank you.”

[thetirisfaltheatretroupe]

[H] The Tirisfal Theatre Troupe Presents: Hellthreequel, the Third One!

(art by @shamanofthewilds )

WHAT:  “Hellthreequel: The Third One”, a play written and performed by the Tirirsfal Theatre Troupe WHERE: Valley of Trials, by the gates into the valley! WHEN: April 19th at 8:20 PM (PST and Server Time) WHO: YOU! WHY: Because we love you!

PREVIOUSLY, ON HELLSQUEAL: (SYNOPSIS)

Garrosh was finally facing comeuppance for his crimes, in an event that TOTALLY happened and was no way fabricated wish fulfillment to create a humorous courtroom scenario! Just when the tyrant was about to face his just and rightful death sentence, TIME FROZE!

Kairozdormu, a mysterious bronze dragon with mysterious motives shrouded in mystery mysteriously mystified even the most mystical mystic in the room and wisked Garrosh away to what he claims is a brand new timeline where Draenor was uncorrupted!

Now on his way to create an army from the orcs of this alternate Draenor, many questions are to finally find their answers! Such as, just how much more convoluted and stupid can the plot get?  Will Garrosh ever get his mug of cherry grog? Why do the Warlords function better as a metal band than they do a warband?

Follow Garrosh, Grom Hellscream, and the warband known as “the Warlords” as they figure this and more out. Packed with action, humor, drama, character development, and enough potty jokes to make a four year old giggle!

Find out, in this “savage” finale to the Hellsqueal trilogy, in a world where orcs rock the night away!

THE END OF AN ERA

Well, it’s finally time to say farewell to the Hellsqueal trilogy for good! While we’ve only performed this play once before, we felt with the first and second being retired, it would be awkward to keep going with this script, and thus it too is being retired. It’s also our most referential work, taking several jokes from the popular TV series Metalocalypse from several years back to work off of the brand of death metalhead humor. One night only to catch this hilarious 3rd installment that absolutely no one asked for! So grab your friends, your dog, heck, grab your lighter and get ready to rock out with your grok out at 8:20 PM PST (server) on April 19th, as the Warlords serenade you with the skull-splitting sounds of savagery before silence befalls it forever!

THE VENUE

It’s a place many of you might be familiar with this time around! The Valley of Trials is a place where all orcs (well, of the non-Mag’har variety) first experience at level 1! The gates exiting the Valley are decorated with stone and spires and spikes, all great things to encompass orcish awesomeness! Alliance players who want to see will have an easy enough time, just roll a new alt orc and pretend you’re wearing a mask if you must, the venue is right there!  The stage is a little more cramped this time around, but fear not, there should be plenty of room to sit! REMEMBER, THE SHOW STARTS AT 8:20 PM! There will be pre-show entertainment as usual in the form of fireworks, and there might be an open bar! Probably! We’re not sure yet, we’ll update this when we’re sure!  Stick around after the show to speak with our cast, take pictures with us, so on and so forth! Offer your criticisms of the play, tell us how much you hated it, seriously, we just love talking shop with our fans!

WITH PRIZES AGAIN!

Test your Hellsqueal series knowledge! True hardcore fans of the Hellsqueal line of plays might just have a chance to win BIG at the intermission, when we play a quick game for some cool prizes, like a Vial of the Sandstone Drake, or another Mechano-Hog - everyone likes motorcycles, right?

FEATURING THE TALENTS OF...

Atos, Joseph, Zogar, Zat’ai, Timiala, Gotosh, Maeitha, & Banorak! The troupe is here and ready to rock your night! EVERYONE IS HERE! ...wait, wrong game!

APRIL 19TH, EVERYTHING CHANGES! COME AND ROCK THE NIGHT AWAY WITH US!