#redridge damn

[migiganteknapkindispenser]

Exams are done, had some time to explore.

[blixvoronin]

day 4: vision

synopsis: Blix unveils the newest settlement in the duchy of Silverloch - an agricultural farming town, Cecil’s Crossing.

cw: none!

for more information on the daily writing challenge, click here.

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Standing in the center of the newly-constructed Cecil’s Crossing within the duchy of Silverloch, nestled in the southeastern reaches of Duskwood, Blix flashed a bright smile to the assorted crowd. Present were citizens from the other settlements - Brightroad, the haven for the undead and otherwise-extraordinary citizens of the duchy, and Silverloch Township, the main hub for trade, marketing, and livelihood. Much to her surprise, the crowd was larger than she’d imagined - but, of course, the grand reveal of a duchy’s new hub for agriculture was no small feat to miss, she supposed.

Brightroad had been the last expansion prior to the construction of Cecil’s Crossing, intended to be an area of respite for death knights, necromancers (thoroughly screened, of course, following the Abercrombie incident in Darkshire so many moons ago), the newly-returned dark rangers, and most recently a few Dracthyr citizens looking for a home. It had, originally, been intended to house fleshcrafters, alchemists, and parts of Silverloch’s militia - over the last few months, however, it seemed that it had expanded as more of the living populace from the township and remainder of Duskwood crept in. Now, it nearly made its stand as equivalent to the primary area - Silverloch Township.

Nestled in the center of the Duchy’s territory, surrounded by woods and a river to the north, Silverloch Township was home to the main cathedral, the settlements of druids from the Cenarion Circle who had helped in revitalizing the lands within Silverloch itself for agriculture and upkeep (which Blix fervently thanked them for on a regular basis, as well as Indraste, for bringing them to begin with), and the estate that Blix and Indy called a home away from home, along with one other individual. Recently, Blix had struck on fortune, convincing none other than Marsulu Goldmane to establish a G-Tek workshop in the township itself. It had brought extra trade to the area, and opened avenues for business, especially given both Silverloch and G-Tek’s affiliations with the duchy of Cindervale, led by Duchess Olivia Edain and her husband, Duke Lebryn Edain, in Redridge.

Vesper Oberon Thorne, the new heir apparent to the Thorne duchy and Blix’s title as ruler of Silverloch, had made his entrance to the scene roughly a year prior. Blix shuddered to recall the circumstances under which Vesper had been found - however, it had been at great reward. Still young, Vesper had just crested nineteen; as a result, Blix had not only struggled with the challenges of parenting an individual a mere nine years younger than herself, but also with teaching him how to be nobility - a skill she’d just barely managed by herself, having been born to common lineage and married pretty damn high up.

He’d done well, though, over the last year - acclimating to a new place was never easy, let alone taking on all of these burdens at once. Blix was proud - and he stood aside her, curled white hair pushed back from his eyes in a rare moment, and dressed in the closest Blix could sway him towards formalwear - a set of fresh leathers, accented with a warm shirt and a coat laid over his shoulders bearing the Thorne family colors. She looked to her adopted child, and nodded. “Ready?” she asked quietly, one brow raised.

“As I’ll ever be. You know I hate this stuff,” Vesper grumbled, and Blix snorted.

“I know.” She raised her voice, addressing those gathered.

“Citizens of Silverloch! Thank you, every one of you, for being present today. We commemorate a new dawn for Silverloch in its entirety with the completion of Cecil’s Crossing, named for our dearly departed duchess, Cecilia Thorne.”

The crowd grew silent for a moment at the mention of Cecilia’s name - Blix saw Vesper’s hands move behind his back, and she absorbed both the grief and the tension present in the crowd. Not all of them had been fond of her; after all, necromantic activity to the point of killing and raising the house staff was... frowned upon, in most minds.

“May her legacy as a ruler of peace and wit be remembered, and may this town serve as a beacon of hope and wealth for Silverloch evermore. It has been a dream of mine to establish a farming town here,” Blix continued, “and thanks to our allies in the Cenarion Circle, this may finally be accomplished. The lands are fertile, and we will have crops for the spring and summer prepared for trade - let this be a new age for not only us, but Duskwood as a whole. Darkness cannot shake our endurance or heart.”

Blix paused for a moment. “Allow me to present, with no small amount of pride - my child and heir, Lord Vesper Thorne.”

The crowd cheered as Vesper stepped forward, much to Blix’s delight. Vesper had taken a role as a servant of the people; he worked closely with the militia, cut no one from conversation, and always had an ear to pass along the street’s whispers to Blix when she couldn’t listen for herself. He was deeply loved, and Blix couldn’t help but be glad for it.

He’d make a fine ruler someday - hopefully, better than she could ever hope to be. Blix listened as Vesper addressed the crowd, brief and to the point. He was never the type for diplomacy or frilled words, as she could be - granted, that was a skill she’d learned years ago from too many days in Stormwind Keep, listening in on the House of Nobles between her own briefings.

“I’m going to be a lot less formal than the Duchess, here, um - honestly, farming isn’t my forte? But, like she said - this is a new time. We can all learn something from each other, and I promise I won’t steal any carrots. May your crops be bountiful, and... ah, have fun, I guess!”

The crowd laughed, giving their applause, and Blix shook her head with a smile. “We’ve brought in performers from all corners of Alliance territories, and a banquet is in the town hall for anyone who’s hungry!” she called. “Celebrate - and envision, with me, a brighter tomorrow for us all.”

Stepping off to the side, the crowd dispersed around Blix and Vesper as she looked to the younger human. “You did great!” she said, wrapping him in a brief hug. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vesper crowed, laughing as he patted Blix on the back twice before pulling back. “I’m getting better at the whole ‘future duke’ thing, I guess, but let’s not go launching friggin’ fireworks just yet. I’m gonna go find Dot, this shit makes me itchy.”

“Fine,” Blix conceded, rolling her eyes with a lopsided grin. “Home by seven! We’re doing your favorite for dinner.”

“Raw steak?” Vesper called back, already walking backwards and threatening to disappear into the throng.

“Wh - no! You’re taking after Indy too much!” Blix shouted - but Vesper had already gone.

With a snort, Blix turned, her eyes meeting a familiar pair of gold, and smiled as she held out her hand. “Let’s go join the festivities,” she said quietly. “Maybe we can say hey to your parents, if they’re here.”

[ladypurplejanewrynn]

Tyruin One Shot: Time to take a dayoff

This is a small gift for my best friend and sis @theamazingwarcrafthuntress

Is been a while since her husband had time to spend with her. The young king of Stormwind was really busy since weeks, and this made Tyroi feel really upset. She really wanted her husband to take a break from work and spend some more time with her. Is been a while since they were able to get out somewhere alone. The young queen sat against a tree, thinking about a way to get Anduin to spend more time with her. A familiar face came to see her. It was Elizabeth, Anduin’s younger sister. "Hey Tyroi, what’s up? Everything alright?" asked the girl. "Hey Lizzie. That’s the thing, nothing is okay." answered the blood elf. The princess sat next to the queen:"What’s wrong?" "Is just, Anduin has been really busy and all this stuff. I understand he has his duties and so do I. But I really want him take a break and spend some time with me." said Tyroi, turning her face away from the princess gaze. "I understand. Why don’t you ask him to take a break? I’m sure he would listen. Beside, I bet he miss spending time with you as much as you miss spending time with him." answered Elizabeth. Tyroi thought about it:"Alright." The next day, Anduin was in his room, busy with his work. Suddently he heared a knock on the door:"Come in." The door opened and there she was, his beloved wife standing in it. "Oh, Tyroi. Is nice to see honey. What brings you here?" The queen entered the room:"There is something I want to talk to you about. So you better listen." "I’m all ears then." said the young king. "Is been a while since we’ve been able to do something together. So, I want to ask you to take a dayoff. Also you can’t overwork yourself like that. There’s has to be balance between work and chilling." said Tyroi. The king thought for a bit and made a decision:"You know what? You’re right. I really need to take a break from my work. I got occupied so much with working that I barely had time to take a breath and do something to relax." Tyroi smiled:"Good. Now, come with me. I prepared something for the two of us." She took him by the hand and left the room. A moment later, they were in the Stormwind Keep garden. There was a picnic blanket with a basket full of food and the plates already prepared. "Tyroi, did you prepare all of this?" asked Anduin.

"Well, actaully Lizzie gave me a helping hand. But this was my idea." said the queen. The royal couple took a sit on the blanket and start it eating. The food was really delicious. They had some fruits, sandwiches, cupcakes and a chocolate cake. They laughed and joked with each other. Once they finished eating, they got up but Tyroi tripped on accident and she fell on Anduin, making the two of them fall to the ground. They looked each other on the eyes. Anduin smiled at her and start it joking:"Damn, honey I know you love me but you don’t have fall for me like that." The queen blushed:"Shut up you idiot. You know very well that was on accident." They got up from the ground, Tyroi still blushing and turning her gaze away from him. "Oh come Tyroi, please don’t give me the silence treatment. I was only joking. Please don’t be like that." said Anduin. A smirked appeared on her face:"Alright, alright. I know you were kidding." Then Anduin got an idea:"Since I’m on a dayoff, what about we go on a date. I already have a perfect place, where we will be alone for sure." Tyroi smiled:"Led the way then." He took her by the hand and they went to the stable to get Reverence. Anduin helped Tyroi climb on the horse, then the climbed at his turn and they rod straight to the place Anduin had in mind. When they arrived, Tyroi noticed they were in Redridge Mountains. "I don’t wanna be rude but, really? Of all the places you could take me to, you decided to go here?" asked Tyroi. The king smiled:"Trust me, I know a place that you might like." Then he took her by the hand.

They arrived at a place, covered by giant leafs. They went inside. There was a lake, a lot of beautiful flowers and colorful and lovely butterflies were flying around. "Woah, this place is amazing. Does someone else knows about it?" asked Tyroi. "Actaully, no. Only me and now you. I found this place last time when I decided to go for a small ride with Reverence. And I thought, when I’ll have more of the free time, I show it to you. So here we are." answered Anduin. "Oh Anduin" Tyroi hugged her husband and gave him a smooch on his cheek. They sat I front of the lake, admiring the butterflies. They were silent for a moment. A moment later, Anduin took one of the flowers and placed it in Tyroi’s hair:"You know, the lily really suits you." The queen chuckled:"Stop it, you dork. You’re making me blush." "Well, those are my intentions. You’re really cute when you blush." said the king. Tyroi pushed him into the lake:"Maybe this will make you stop." Anduin smiled and splashed her with the water. "Hey!" shouted the blood elf. "You’re the one who began this." said Anduin snickering. Tyroi jumped in the lake and splashed Anduin at her turn:"Never mess with the queen." He smiled. Then they start it splashing each other. After they stopped, they end it up in their arms, kissing each other on their lips. Once they got out of the lake, they payed down, to dry their clothes a little. They actually end it up hugging each other and falling asleep in their arms. When they woke up, their clothings were dried already. They got out of the place and noticed the sun was going down. They climbed on Reverence and rod back home. When they arrived, Elizabeth was waiting for them in the throne room:"By the light, where were you? I was getting worried for the two of you." "We’re okay. We were in a special place and kinda dozed off a little bit. But we’re fine. No need to worry." said Anduin. When Lizzie finally calmed down, they all went for dinner. After dinner, they went to their rooms. "This day was really fun, don’t you think honey?" asked Tyroi while changing into her pijama. "Yeah, we really should repeat this again." said Anduin changing into his pijama as well. When they finally finished changing, they layed down on their bed and fell asleep.

The End

[shandaumath]

New Orders

[Dreadmist Peak, Redridge Mountains]

Fifty Knights of the Blue Lance sent by Duke Tirian Felo’dorah. He had pledged these men a day prior, and they slipped through the wreckage of the battle of Lakeridge. Men were lost during travel.

Fifteen monks specializing in the August Formation sent by Baroness Uozumi Silentgarden. She had pledged these men days prior, and they scaled the mountains from Elwynn to Redridge to safely arrive in Dreadmist.

Seventy-five soldiers and advanced weaponry brought by the ever-reliable Kazmaiers and their Stonemasons, pledged upon the passing of the House of Commons. Knowing the difficulty Dreadmist faced, they climbed the mountains and followed through when it was time to heed the call.

The armies of Rose Ridge from just south down the mountain. For weeks Sinthelyss worked to get the puppet there under her grasp, and now the humble soldiers marched for their own justice.

And finally the meager army of Dreadmist, young and fresh within the growing barony. Alone they stood no chance, but the allies who stood beside them now would bring them to victory. 

The united armies would march to Withermore and claim it together.

…

[The path to the Three Corners, Redridge Mountains]

Led by Sir Kinley of the Searing Peak and two men beside him, Dreadmist’s footmen followed first, then the magi of Withermore, trailed by Rose Ridge and Amberwood’s soldiers. The cities’ troops totaled a dozen, and the magi upwards of one hundred.

They had been marching for a day, and the Three Corners was close.

Silence. Unbearable silence except for the metal, the leather, and the hooves shuffling through the dirt roads. Birds chirping. Wind blowing on what would have otherwise been a perfect day. Silence, until–

–K-K-POW–

Sir Kinley suddenly slipped off his horse, and then the others, and the banners of the Searing Peak were left fluttering without riders.

“ARE YOU FUCKING MAD?!”

A mage caught sight of the pistols in the hands of the soldiers of Dreadmist in front of him. Horses squealed, frightened by the sound, and flames sparked on the fingers of the magi who were first to react, but a letter from a soldier jutted into the air. It bore the mark of the lord of Dreadmist.

“New orders, kids.”

The mage-commander grabbed it, ripping the letter open while the soldiers found a ditch to dump the bodies in.

“Eastburg?!”

“Yeah, Eastburg. Got it on good word that we’ve got allies there. – Damn, this is a nice horse.”

“And our allies here?”

The Dreadmist men hoisted themselves up onto the now stolen steeds. One of them waved to the letter that was already in the mage’s hand, and behind it was a pamphlet. The bold words SPAWN OF ONYXIA caught the mage’s eye first.

“Like I said. We got allies in Easburg, and that’s where we’re going. We ain’t helping these dragon babies any more, and right about–” He looked up at the sky. “...Oooh right about now, ol’ Shandaumath is probably sitting in your pretty little mage castle.”

He kicked the horse forward. “...Like I said. New orders, kids.”

[chrotethys]

Daily Writing Challenge - Day 10 - "Feast/Sleepless"

The day started with promise as the sun rose. Warmth filtered over the mountains and heated the lake below. Several guards patrolled the bridge as the sound of hurried feet kicked against the cobblestone.

"Whoa, whoa, where's the fire this morning?!" One of the guards said as they stopped Kaden in his tracks. The young boy was panting heavily as he adjusted a small bag on his shoulder.

"I'm-... I'm in the process of finding my first familiar! And I have to do it during daylight hours, sir!" The boy looked absolutely winded as the guard adjusted his helm.

"Lad, you shouldn't go about on your own. Don't you have a friend or a guardian to accompany you?"

"N-No sir, but I know magic! I can defend myself!" Kaden made a point to assume a stance for combat. But to the guard, it looked loose and open with vulnerability.

"I'll tell you what - if you want to go across the bridge here and into the wilderness, you have to prove to me you can handle it." The guard raised an armored hand to gesture at a pallet of stone blocks. "Move one of those blocks to me, and I'll take your word and trust your meddle. Failure to do so though, I will forbid passage to the other side until you have someone to accompany you."

Kaden looked to where the guard had gestured and frowned. "That's not fair! And you know it! That stone block is likely twice my weight and glued down. This is a rigged test and you know it!"

"Make no mistake, lad. This is no trick or deception, but a testament to what you may face. Not all your enemies will be the same size as you. So it's better to understand reality rather than imagine yourself capable. Do I make myself clear?"

The young mage pouted and set his bags down. He went over to the block and studied it. He knew physically the strength wasn't his to muster, but maybe...

From the vantage point of the guard, the boy had begun to wedge a large piece of wood beneath the block as his comrade emerged beside him.

"What are you asking this poor child to do?" She asked giving her subordinate an unhappy look.

"He wants to leave Lakeshire on his own, I'm simply preparing him."

As they spoke, the block fell to the ground unceremoniously. Kaden then knelt down and tried to push and lift the block over. It was... comical in its own right.

Though to both of the guard's surprise, he did make progress. When Kaden had reached the endpoint, beads of sweat adorned his brow. His robes were disheveled and his hair unkempt from his painstaking efforts.

"Alright lad! Next time I may be able to humor you in some spirits!"

At that, the other guard elbowed him and scoffed. But Kaden quickly gathered his bags and darted by them both.

"Kids these days," the guard said and shook his head.

As the young mage scaled the hill, he regarded the paths that split to Duskwood and Elwynn Forest. He knew of the magic that lingered in Elwynn, but... he found himself staring in the direction of Duskwood. Stories of the Dark Riders and Karazhan had filled his mind. What if he could acquire something of power? The temptation had caused a wry grin to make its way onto his face. And quickly he moved behind the tree line. The guards in the tower didn't seem to take any notice of him as he slinked towards the brook that bordered Duskwood and Redridge.

The air of Duskwood was noticeably different. Its stark cool air was an unsettling contrast to where he had been moments before in Redridge. An ominous presence waded in the shadows in the deep forest ahead, but he substituted his own courage with reckless ambition. The terrain was not hard for him to sprint through as he felt the tightness in his lungs. Every now and then he would pause at a tree to catch his breath and mind the creatures of the night.

Several worgs had made a kill nearby and were fortunately distracted from the young boy's presence. And even the spiders seemed unwilling to leave the trees as they prepared for the night hunt. Within the hour, he would find himself on the outskirts of Darkshire. Yet... no magical familiar was in sight.

He was not yet discouraged as he began to climb the hill that led towards Deadwind Pass. And once more... Kaden eluded the detection of the Darkshire Night Watch. Or so... he had thought.

A voice called out to him, but his feet did not dare stop. He was running towards a mountainous ravine as his pursuer had fallen too far behind. Even if they had caught up to him, he was nearly there!

Looking around the pass, he saw several carrion birds flying overhead and opened his bag to pull out a small waterskin. He drank greedily from it and raised his head towards the path that had matched the description of Hell's final bend.

In a starved manner of ambition, he rose once more and made his way along the path. Albeit this time he traveled much slower - more cautious among the dangers that likely would have compromised the greatest of travelers. He crept low to the ground as he heard the shout of a nearby ogre.

"HEY!" The ogre's voice bellowed. Though what had followed was not a verbal response. Along the stone wall, he could just make out the shadow of the ogre and his opponent. A great horned beast approached him and lashed out, causing the smallest point of the ogre's shadow to fly off like a projectile. Kaden fought back his shock with a startled gasp as the head of the ogre rolled out in front of him. The eyes were wide with apparent surprise and its jaw clenched tightly.

In a fit of panic and the painstaking realization that he shouldn't have come here; Kaden weaved behind the decrepit remains of a tree. It had become a husk of a trunk that was large enough to hide his smaller form from the sight of the monster. He watched with unease and trepidation. He felt his fingers curling so tight that the white of his knuckles mirrored the coloration of his bones.

Upon the road in front of him, a massive hoof emerged first, followed by the shape of a strange-looking Tauren as he moved forward. This had been Kaden's first time seeing one, and from the texts that he read in class - They were a very spiritual and noble race that had strong warriors.

However this warrior... he did not fight with the pretense of mercy. It was as if he were bloodthirsty and that the death of his foes was all he sought. Kaden's throat grew tight after swallowing. He could feel his body shaking as if any breath he drew in would likely attract the evil that permeated from the Tauren in front of him.

Watching the large bovine as it knelt down, he noticed a large hand reach out for the Ogre's head. Three meaty fingers wrapped around it as he raised it to his face for inspection. Kaden didn't know what to expect, but he had hoped it was just a trophy for keeps or pure examination of his battle.

But the sickening crunch of the ogre's skull followed shortly after the fingers of the Tauren's hand clenched shut. Blood poured out between the Tauren's fingers and spilled onto the ground in an unholy display of carnage.

If he had not been afeared before, the child certainly felt the heat of urine in his loins. The humility he would have faced was a small price to pay for his own survival. And he didn't think waiting for the Tauren to go away was a plausible outcome. It stood like a damn sentry with its arm outstretched over his kill.

Where were the heroes that Kaden had read about? Was this a new threat to the Alliance? Did they know of this monster?! Kaden wondered if the right choice was to stay in hiding or if it was better for him to run and warn the unsuspecting inhabitants of Darkshire. All he had wanted was a familiar... and the thanks for his magic was the Death in the flesh. And he knew it would be foolish to try to attack this enemy with magic.

He didn't expect the shift of his foot in his hiding place, as a rock rolled out from his place of hiding. And the Tauren's head slowly turned in his direction.

Oh, gods! He had drawn its attention!

Reason and hope were cast aside as he made a desperate effort to retreat to safety. His robes catching on a branch as he tore the fabric behind him. He didn't care for the possessions that he lost and he most certainly didn't want to look behind him. The winding road he had traveled on stretched out like a leviathan. And it seemed endless when he sought salvation so fiercely.

Would he make it? Did he want to take the risk of seeing if the monster followed? The notions were dropped as the unease from the unknown enveloped him. He looked over his shoulder as he ran now and saw no sign of the Tauren following. And slowly, his sprint began to ease into a walk. His chest rising and falling with a rapid need for air. The shaking in his arms and legs grew even more unsteady. Even with the solid earth beneath him, he felt like he might collapse from fright.

Staring back at where the Tauren had been, he considered what he saw and start to felt a sense of composure after the ordeal. His eyes closed as relief flooded through him and the disgusting revelation that he had in fact pissed himself. He shook his head and placed his hands upon it in exasperation. But when he had turned... the maw of a completely different monster was closed behind him. As large white fangs emerged and the darkness that laid within, Kaden let out a blood-curdling scream.

Now what remained in his place... we're just two stalks of his small legs and blood...

In the weeks that followed, posters were strung up in Darkshire and Lakeshire for the disappearance of Kaden Stanford. Though.. the closure that could be gained would not bring peace to anyone's hearts or souls... And many sleepless nights would await the Stanford family, as the monster's feast had only just begun.

@daily-writing-challenge

[brazenautomaton]

Fixing Afterlives: Bastion, Pt. 1

As it is, Bastion doesn’t work. The Forsworn don’t just have a point, they are obviously, objectively correct. Kyrian discard all their memories and attachments in a way that is horrifying, in order to perform a job that a robot could do, in order to aspire to be something lame and boring. There is nothing cool about what they do and nothing good either; every single time they tell you about what they do it’s supposed to make you sad, not proud. A little of that is fine, it’s Death. But come on. The anima diverter daily for Bastion is a test where you judge if souls should pass on or not, and on WoWHead, the adequate summary of the right answers is “If one of the answers seems more evil or horrible, that’s the one you pick.”

In fact, Bastion can’t work as it is right now, because of Maldraxxus. The Maldraxxi are the defenders of the Shadowlands, right? So all the courage and martial prowess and avenging angel-ness Bastion wants to have cannot be what they are About, the presentation wants them to be glorious and valorous warriors but they don’t have to fight anyone. And the presentation wants them to be wise and impartial but their job requires no discretion, they’re ghost UPS. They can’t be About anything cool, and to be wise and impartial, they can’t be DOING anything at all!

So here’s the fix to their concept: Maldraxxus is the afterlife of warriors, the endless skeleton war, the unending conflict where there are always an infinite supply of fighters willing to leap to the defense of the Shadowlands. Maldraxxus is the Shadowlands’ defensive team. Bastion is the offense.

Bastion does not engage in army-against-army conflict, they have individual heroes. And they are out there in the mortal world, invisibly, serving as guardian angels, inspiring as muses, fighting invisible forces, tipping the scales of Fate to have the right outcomes. Fighting extra-dimensional beasts who prey on the mortal realm to invisibly protect them, fighting down incarnate ideas of malice and ruin, but also influencing things directly or by subconscious example. Every Spirit Healer is from Bastion and they are the ones who decided “your time is not yet up”. When we get really lucky to allow ourselves to triumph over the Legion or the Scourge, it’s because Bastion was ensuring it happened, fighting for us. Bastion is supposed to be affecting things out there, making things turn out Right, instead of being powerless observers. They are the muses of artists and the muses of battle. They inspire. They lead, invisibly.

That’s why they need to be wise and free of bias -- you cannot favor one side of mortals over the other. Mortal beings need to beat the Scourge, but the Horde does not need to triumph over the Alliance and vice versa. Your job is not to punish mortals for being bad, you damn well need to be boosting both sides when there are champions and the valorous in both. You cannot go out there and say “these Orcs up here in Redridge are all evil and shit and the Alliance deserves the win so I’m just gonna go all in on defending them,” that’s not how it works, you reward individual valorous efforts on both sides. How Fate Should Go does not include taking sides in purely mortal conflicts.

So obviously you cannot be biased. You are something Beyond the mortal realm which means you can’t take sides. You actually do have to discard these attachments, and while we’re here, we need to actually make that process empowering. Right now all it does is show you “hey, happy memories, well, fuck you, gotta get rid of them.” Make more than zero effort to make this make sense. Show the aspirant in pain and yearning because of those memories and the fact they can’t come back. Don’t make them forget who they were, make them become at peace and move on.

Now obviously that won’t be convincing to everyone. And that’s fine. It just means there’s some ambiguity instead of the Forsworn being obviously right about everything.

There are four races/types in Bastion: Kyrian, Forsworn Kyrian, Stewards, and Constructs. Only two are represented in Soulbinds: you have two Kyrian and a Steward. 

Kyrian are the expression of what Bastion IS, so we already covered their changes.

Constructs are anima robots. Why are there anima robots here? It’s really bad in the current version because the Kyrian job can be done by a robot so why not just make them do it? Instead, we take that idea and we make it About something: these machines aren’t Constructs, they are Principles. A Principle is a robot made of rules and ideals, the things that are thought by mortals but bigger than any mortal. Codes of honor and ideas that work beyond any of us as individuals. There, that’s it, that change of presentation is all you need to do to justify why robots are there. The changes to Bastion’s fundamentals are what makes them fit in.

Stewards are creepy. Really creepy. They serve the same role as dredgers, but the fact that dredgers bitch and moan and complain all the time lets us see them as individuals with goals and not creepy brainwashed victims. A dredger isn’t a slave, they are a worker; but work sucks and they wanna be at the pub. A steward, with one exception (Forgelite Prime Mikanikos who is busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest and also by far the best Bastion character) appears to have no personality and is a brainwashed slave. 

So, first off, make it clearer that they are helpful because they are The Desire To Aid, that’s the thing they’re About. With the way they speak and act, I think what they are supposed to be in story terms is lightly comic relief, also similar in role to Dredgers but with opposite implementation. The creepiness and one-dimensionality make this fail, all their hoots and hoos and silly talk isn’t funny. They need to be cheesier. They need to be 90’s Saturday morning cartoon sidekicks. They need to be a (much) less obnoxious version of Snarf.

They need to tell awful, awful dad jokes. Just the worst. The kind that are so bad they loop back around to funny again but you’re still groaning and they’re just there like “Eh? Eh? Geddit? Geddit?” By doing something that is helpful, that we recognize as an attempt to help and that some Steward characters can explicate to us really does help (it dampens anger and fear because all of your negative emotions are refocused to that HORRIBLE pun), but that clearly NOBODY would brainwash them into doing, now we can trust their helpful efforts are borne of sincere desire and carried out to the best of their ability by their own personal interpretation.

Forsworn Kyrian, right now, are only antagonists. The ideological change of giving up on the law of Bastion makes you turn a darker indigo color scheme (which is actually really good because these are creatures of Beyond, creatures who are on a fundamental physical level About something, their beliefs changing their physical makeup makes sense!) and then become a bad guy. Forsworn are all only antagonists. We’re going to change that. Kleia is going to become Forsworn. And still be a heroic character and your Soulbind, even though this isn’t a game balance thing and so Pelagos will still probably outclass her in every way seriously that Mastery buff is fucking bananas for anyone who cares about Mastery.

Not when you meet her, though. The existing storyline of Bastion is you go there because “hey what the fuck are these Kyrian doing in the Maw serving the Jailer” but in Bastion itself nothing much is happening other than kicking pebbles down the street. You get the intro from Kleia, you go see some very low-importance things, then the Forsworn attack for the first time, and you spend the rest of the zone quest on hold with the Archon’s hotline to tell her “hey there are Forsworn this is a problem”.

Now, when you get there to ask “hey what the fuck”, Kleia is still not doing much more than kicking pebbles down the street, bored off her ass, extremely enthusiastic about someone new so she can DO something. But the Forsworn conflict already exists: it’s just not relevant to her because she stays out of it, figures that it’s above her pay grade, and she hangs out at the Welcome Center which nobody gives a shit about because there’s nobody to get welcomed so it isn’t relevant. She just knows there’s been some discussions. 

We get the anima drought reinforced the first time we enter Bastion because we have to power down the other cores to get enough juice for the greeting machine, but then it isn’t really a good way to sell it because that’s the kind of thing we do all the time even when there’s no shortages of anything, that’s how WoW PCs interact with machines. So we have the player scrounge up anima from the other Principles to power up the greeting machine, and it’s not enough, it runs out of juice halfway through, and Kleia gets embarrassed and tries to finish the rest of the process by reciting it from memory (and not getting it all quite right, which is another chance to show us things about her).

Kleia is excited to have someone to run through the orientation process, and she explains that FIRST there was an anima drought, and then as if that wasn’t bad enough, THEN the Arbiter got conked out and the flow of souls to Bastion stopped. This is important, because in the story as is, the anima drought appears to be completely explained by the flow of souls all going to the Maw, since they are presented at the same time and the flow of souls is the flow of anima. When you find out the drought is because of ol’ Denny hoarding it, you go “wait how does he have any to hoard when it all goes to the Maw?”

So for right now you need to walk the Aspirant’s path to get an audience with the Archon because right now things don’t seem desperate and urgent. You go to Aspirant’s Rest and get the flight point, and you go to meet Kleia’s soulbind, Pelagos. Two things need to change right here.

One: something more needs to be happening here than “Pelagos was a dipshit and tried ascending alone despite that being not how it works at all, go in there and fight the monsters,” so do something instead of almost-nothing.

Two: Loath as I am to say something actually needs less representation compared to its original, Pelagos can’t be transgender. You find out later on, in the Kyrian covenant quest line maybe? That Pelagos’s mortal body was a woman, but his true spirit is a man. That’s great, that’s something that should come up. The problem is, Pelagos is also the fuck-up, the one we see fail all the time so he can (ostensibly) show resolve and get back up again. But Blizz didn’t show barely any details about Pelagos’s life for fear of backlash -- we don’t even know who played him -- and whether or not it is valid or invalid or that was a cover to avoid admitting this was to not offend China, Blizzard still won’t DO it. So we have this character who is battling this doubt and failure in his past but we’re not allowed to know what they are. Pelagos is cisgender so we can go into detail about what he fucked up. Kleia might be trans instead (why she is so gung-ho about Ascension), or we can have Kleia sell the Ascension process as good by mentioning that the Paragon of Wisdom, Thenios, was born a woman in life but Ascension made him into a true ideal. This can also justify a bit more screen time for Thenios and then something for Tim Russ to do. He was already Tuvok, he doesn’t need more humiliation. But whoever it is, their gender only comes up once and never again because now they’re the right way around and the former body doesn’t matter.

So what’s happening at Aspirant’s Rest? It’s a holding pen for souls. See, as it is now, you find out about the flow of souls into the Maw right away, but then all the way through the main quest and into the Kyrian campaign quest they apparently don’t know, and you don’t tell them, and then it’s a surprise when you finish the quest where you follow the guy in Redridge and have to take him to the Maw, and that’s dumb, they should know, you should have told them.

So now the Kyrian know that everyone is default-judged to the Maw. And they know this is what has to happen, this is the machinery of fate that drives the universe, but they are compassionate and know these souls do not deserve it. So they’re scamming as much as they can. Whenever possible (which they lament is not often enough, not nearly often enough), they find some loophole or corner case to count someone as not ready to be judged, and stick them somewhere in Bastion so they can wait until the Arbiter’s awake again to judge them. They can’t do much, but they can do a little, so they do that.

This guy, okay, you died, BUT, there’s a necromancer just two zones over, and your body is still intact since I dragged it to safety, and, I mean, he’s PROBABLY going to call back your soul and bind it to your body in service, so there’s no point in having you judged, you’re just coming back, right? And you, Night Elf! Okay, you got your head blown off, but, remember that angelic voice shouting “NIGHTELVESEVOLVEDFROMTROLLS!” a moment before your demise? And you know, Trolls who worship Bwonsamdi go straight to De Otha Side without being judged. Maybe you would have wanted to pledge yourself to older gods, but you never got the chance to make that decision, so, hey, you know, it would only be right to let you make that choice before you are given your judgment! And you, guy, did you know that all those patrons from the Slaughtered Lamb across the street who came into your business were warlocks? Yup, all of them, and they didn’t wash their hands either. Fel contamination. Can’t, ooh, you know, hey, might be a demonic stain on your soul, demons don’t have an afterlife like us, gotta be reborn in the Twisting Nether! Going to have to consult some demons to figure out where you go. Better wait here.

Aspirant’s Rest and the temple beneath are a soul refugee camp, and the souls within are scared and angry and don’t know what is going on and the Kyrian can’t explain it or they will all completely flip out. The Kyrian are trying as hard as they can in the limitations they have and this sells it. 

Pelagos is down there. The risk is not that he will be killed -- he is not mortal, he does not die -- the risk is that his well-meaning attempts to keep things calm might ignite the powder keg down there. And those souls can’t die but they WILL go directly to the Maw if fatally injured, which is why they have to be kept penned where Larion won’t eat them and Principles won’t drag them off. Pelagos fucks up here and you have to fix it but it’s not a suicidally stupid error while doing something that has no relevance to the player, it’s an understandable mistake biting off more than he can chew while doing something the player understands. Player, Kleia, and Pelagos go down to Aspirant’s Crucible to get certified as an Aspirant and get in line to talk to the Archon. 

In the existing story, you go and peer into a memory flame thing and have echoes of your heroic battles drawn forth, and you fight them while a character narrates your heroic deeds. They might be based on what expansions you played in, or might be random? Anyway, in this case, you gaze into the flame of memory, she starts to narrate your heroism, and… nothing. “Ah, there are supposed to be visions conjured here, so you can display your valor against them once again. It… it doesn’t… hang on, I might know what the problem is…”

A voice comes. “Then how about you display your valor against me, champion? A little sparring wouldn’t hurt, and I’m eager to see what you can do.”

It’s Uther, hell yes it’s Uther.

[maxparkhurst]

Churning Skies

Flop. Flop. Flop.

Uncle threw the net full of bass onto the deck. They hit the ground so hard they jolted back to life. Seeing them flopping and gasping was more than Augustine could bear. He turned around with tears in his eyes. A sick feeling brewed in the pit of his stomach. He moved to the boat’s edge, ready to retch, when Uncle’s firm hand pulled him back.

“No, boy. You look at ‘em. Watch’em squirm.”

Uncle gripped Augustine’s chin and forced his gaze down on the struggling fish. They clambered over one another, flailing in desperate attempts at escape. Looking into their glassy eyes stole the breath from Augustine’s lungs and the warmth from his blood. Uncle’s voice, raspy and harsh, whispered in his ear.

“They ain’t any different than people…”

Augustine blinked at the gathering storm. The memory faded as quickly as it manifested, carried off and forgotten on a passing breeze. His attention drifted to the dark clouds rolling on the horizon. Black like spilt ink, they blocked out the sun and cast the whole city in a premature night. Something inside him stirred. It knotted his stomach and sent a chill down his spine. The only word he could think to call this feeling was…

“Omens…”

He swallowed back a hard lump. Vials rattled in their crate as he adjusted them in his arms. Three cases of Alchemist’s Fire were ordered to be delivered to a noble clergy in the Cathedral District. He decided to make haste with this delivery and cut through the Trade District. If he were quick, and a bit lucky, he could outrun the storm. The teen darted through the Mage Quarter’s entry arch and over the canal bridge. Droves of people passed him by. They chittered amongst themselves, casting him a way-ward eye. Paranoia was a common guest in the city within the last few weeks. Rumors of undead stirring in the North made their rounds. Max assured him that they were nothing more than nobleman gossip. But as the orders for Alchemist’s Fire rolled in, he began to question its validity. Now, with so many people on edge, he couldn’t help but let an inkling of believe settle in his gut. 

As Augustine neared the Trade District, the streets grew more congested. People milled about in clusters. They barked and cried at those standing at attention before a banner. He craned his neck to peer over the crowd. His heart dropped to his stomach when he saw the Argent Crusader's emblem billowing in the wind.

“I have family in Redridge!”

“What if they breach the city?!”

“Someone set fire to the grain! The Damned have poisoned the grain!” 

Guards posted before the crowd were muted beneath the uproar. Augustine curled into himself as the collective voice grew louder and more distressed. People clambered over each other, pushing and shoving, in attempts to have their pleas be heard. They were like fish caught in a net as they floundered in an endless sea of uncertainty. Gasping for an ounce of comfort, the townspeople’s jaws hung open as they cried for answers.

Augustine turned to the nearest gentleman and called over the commotion, “What’s going on?!”

A startled hiccup lodged itself in the back of the teen’s throat as the man reeled back. Glassy eyes wide with fright stared through Augustine. It turned his stomach. “The Scourge!” The man gripped Augustine by his shoulders and shook him. “The Scourge, boy. They’re going to swarm the city! Board your houses! Hide your children!”

Augustine cringed as spit struck his cheek. The fear nestled in his chest rose in anger. “Get off me!” He yanked himself from the man’s reach and scrambled out of the fray into an alley. In the quiet, he gathered his senses and took a slow breath in...And released a panicked sob. To think it’d all been true…

Augustine stole a glance at the crate of Alchemist’s Fire. Their amber contents stood out against the gray backdrop, glistening like a drop of hope. Fuck this deliver. He held the crate close to his chest as he darted out of the alley.  There were bigger problems than a peeved nobleman at play. The Parkhursts had friends; people who they’d grown close to in the last year they’d spent in Stormwind. Each of their faces appeared in his mind’s eye as he bolted through the streets: Melorica, Zeehva, Darenis, Callyanne and her children, Saidelia, Sam, Brigitte, all of them. He wasn’t sure who was safe or not. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he could defend any of them from a ghoul if it came down to it. But he did have one thing on his side.

In a crack of lightning, rain blanketed the streets in a sudden downpour. Thunder struck in the distance as he stepped up to the shop’s stoop. Augustine lingered in the doorway, clinging onto the crate with a white-knuckled grip. He may not wield a sword or harness the Light. He may not own a suit of armor or even possess the strength to wear it. He may not have much at all to offer. What he did have, though, was his Alchemy. And with it, he’d  protect those he cared for most.

[asharinhun]

Claws of Death - Pt. I.

(Following Approaching Storm)

Samantha trudged along -battered and bruised- with the remaining people of the unit she was recruited into in complete silence, too tired to keep up even her worgen form.  Only a few of them remained after the swarm of ghouls decimated their ranks as they were rotating out of Redridge. She knew they were lucky to be alive at all, but failure also ate her away from the inside. She should have been able to do more, slay more of the undead bastards or open a better path thorugh which more of them could have retreated.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up.” A hand gently squeezing her shoulder brought Sam back out of her thoughts. It belonged to Alderen, one of the two Argent Crusaders still alive. “I know that look all too well, and as an ex-soldier, you know it too. You did what you could, you gave beyond your best. Noone can ask for more.”

The words held truth, the worgen used similar on some battlefield before to keep her companions together in the past. It was odd to be on the receiving end, but it managed to cheer her up a tiny bit.

“Thanks. I know, it just...” She just shrugged, unable to find the right words.

“It is never easy. The fallen will be remembered as heroes. We just have to make sure there are people left to remember them.” He patted her shoulder once again before hastening his steps to catch up with the two mercenaries acting as the vanguard.

“If you say so...” Sam muttered under her breath, but she was alert once again, at least as alert as her tired body and mind could be.

“Guys, hurry up, there’s another unit ahead of us, and they’re in a bad shape with many wounded! We should catch up quickly!” Their scout returned and the group increased the tempo, it didn’t take ten minutes to rendezvious with the other party.

Samantha screwed her eyes to get a better look at the others once they were close enough, and was shocked as she spotted a woman with long, golden curls in a guard uniform dragging a leg behind her and being supported by another soldier. The worgen dashed ahead, ignoring Alderen’s call. By now the battered unit stopped, happy at whatever reinforcement this union of the teams meant.

“Ara!” Sam’s fear was confirmed for it was indeed Arabella, and the worgen was horrified when she noticed that the guard’s left arm ended in a bandaged, bloody stump at the elbow. Her whole left side showed marks of frostbite.

“Didn’t expect to see you, Sam.” Ara managed a weak smile, relieved that Samantha was relatively unhurt.

“What the fel happened to you?! Didn’t I tell you to be careful?!” Sam muttered, moving to add her own support as well.

“Frostwyrm. The damn lizard got us just as we crossed the river before it flew off further into Duskwood. Caught my arm with it’s breath. I was one of the lucky ones, I could still be saved before the ghouls got through our makeshift defenses.” The guard leaned on the worgen as they slowly trudged on.

By now the groups converged and the Argent Crusaders arranged the formation. Luckily Alderen allowed Sam to stay with Ara, he said nothing but simply nodded at her.

“Ghouls from the South! A whole hor-!” The scout’s frightened cry from the distance cut off, his fate clear to all.

“Soldiers of Unit Lion, form up as line to our South and keep up with the main group! Unit Wolf, guard the injured! We must push on with the fastest speed we can, there should be a forward camp just ahead, our goal is to reach it!” Alderen shouted orders based on the new arrangements, and Samantha left Ara with a nod and took up her position as part of Unit Lion.

She found it strange the ghouls still didn’t reach them, and it wasn’t until she heard a rustle from above did she notice the geists now jumping into their mist with a shriek.

Sam watched with horror as another batch of geists sailed over the the rest, more than one slipping through Unit Wolf and attack the injured, one about to reach Arabella.

The worgen roared, changing shape once more as she tried to catch up, not giving a rat’s ass about the hole left in Unit Lion’s formation as the ghouls also arrived, reaching Ara in time was the only thing that mattered. The guard supporting her fell first, but his sacrifice gave Sam precious seconds.

“Araaaaa!” The worgen cried out, lunging at Arabella as the geist slashed down.

[arrows-and-cigars]

Fall Back and Fight On

Beating a hasty retreat from Three Corners, Damerrek and Belevea sprinted through the forest. The fallen autumn leaves crushed beneath their boots, dried brush and low branches broke as they barreled through. Redridge and Duskwood were overrun with the scourge, and the undead forced pressed in Elwynn. Looping back to the main road, the rangers kept a brisk pace and made for Ridgepoint Tower south of Eastvale. Both were hoping to find desperately needed supplies and ammunition, and perhaps a brief respite from the onslaught.

"This is worse than you said it was," Damerrek shouted over to his Quel'dorei companion.

"How the fuck was I supposed to know it'd get this bad?" Belevea shot him a look with narrowed eyes. "Still not as bad as Icecrown was."

"Yet." Damerrek quickly added.

Approaching the fork in the road, the pair shared a sigh of frustration as their gazes landed upon the tower under siege. Jogging up to the soldiers who loaded a wagon, the rangers quickly learned that the scourge pressed over the riverbanks from Duskwood, compromising the entire southern border. For now, Westbrook held firm, but Eastvale had already been evacuated, and Ridgepoint prepared to abandon their station. Their orders were to fall back to Goldshire and bolster the final line before Stormwind. Damerrek and Belevea immediately agreed to accompany the retreat, despite neither of them no longer official members of the Alliance forces, in exchange for a small resupply.

While loading their quivers, a flash of magic exploded before them, sending both hurtling through the air and crashing to the forest floor. Groaning in his daze, Damerrek pushed up to his feet and nocked an arrow, scanning the treeline for their assailant. The sound of an arrow finding its mark pierced the silence. His eyes moved to the source and found Bel had struck down the Necrocaster.

"Oh shit, is that—"

"Cult of the Damned, yeah." The elven woman cut him off and finished his sentence.

"We need to go. Now!" Damerrek instructed the soldiers as he moved with haste to the wagon. Skeletons and zombies began to shamble from the trees. "Leave whatever isn't packed behind. Let's go!"

His hand slapped the rear end of the harnessed horse, setting the wagon in motion as the last footman hopped on. With a heavy breath, Damerrek's broad shoulders rolled, shooting Belevea a look of concern. She gave him a shallow nod, sharing in the unspoken feeling of dread as they walked briskly beside the caravan, the two alternating shots into the slowly approaching wave of scourge.

[pt.I] [pt.II] [pt.III]

[blue-eyedraven]

Out of the Frying Pan...

All was quiet within the secure walls of the Hide and Seek on that particularly crisp afternoon, though with the sign hanging in the window, that was hardly surprising; the words 'Closed for business' had been hastily scrawled across the parchment in an attempt to steer away any additional distractions while, inside, Riley continued her work uninterrupted. Relatively uninterrupted, anyhow.

The arrival of a sealed envelope slipped silently through the door's mail slot was soon followed by a short-lived cry of frustration from the woman herself, after which the parchment was violently crumpled and launched clear across the room. 

"You know that's not going to hel-"

"Don't." The sharpness of Riley's tone was only amplified by that of her gaze - the corners of which had begun to well up with tears as she glared daggers at her present company. "I'm not looking for a lecture - least of all from you," she all but spat, though the vitriol seemed to have little to do with the individual towards whom it was directed.

"Well, that's a bit uncalled for..."

"They've been through too much!" Riley's arm shot straight out, her index finger pointed towards the door. "They've lost too fucking much - and now they're staring down the fucking barrell again?" Fingers combed roughly back through raven tresses, the heels of her palms pressing briefly against her temples. "And I still can't make myself walk out that fucking door." Her tone shifted some, foregoing its harsher edges in favor of something a little more defeated.

"I can't make myself take that first step," she shook her head, sending a tear streaking hotly down her cheek, "not if that step's gonna lead me back there. To him."

"Your brother may be a little... detached, but he's not a fool. And he would have to be incredibly foolish to try anything like that again."

"Exactly. He'll come up with something else." Riley sat down with a huff and brought an elbow up onto the workbench, arm bent, forehead resting against the backs of her knuckles while she pinched and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "Something worse." A pained wince overtook her features, forcing her eyes tightly closed and letting herself fall silent for a moment.

"They're getting pretty bad, aren't they? The headaches."

"Putting it mildly," Riley muttered under her breath, not bothering to look up. "I don't know. Maybe he knocked something loose while gallivanting around inside my head, but ever since I got back, I-..." Her ebony brows furrowed; she felt as though she was on the cusp of a realization which was teetering just out of reach. "Where did you-"

"Ey, Blue-Eyes, you 'ome?" Jasper's voice cut through the slowly building thrum inside Riley's skull, yanking her back to the present with jarring swiftness. "I've been thinkin'! Think I got a purdy good lil gig we can hoist up, an' make sure we're not knee deep in shit." As he often did, Jasper announced his arrival by barging into the shop voice-first, his large frame following along soon after.

"Shadows be damned," the curse slipped past her lips in a hushed whisper. She swiped at any errant tears with the back of her wrist and took a slow, steadying breath before swiveling around in her seat to face him. She looked tired, but that was hardly out of the ordinary for Riley. "You and your fucking entrances, Red." Despite the tension in the air, she still managed a convincing smile for the ruffian standing in the middle of the shop's otherwise empty main room.

“Ya know ya love my entrances, Blue-Eyes, don’t lie. If it weren’t fer my big ass mouth, you wouldn’t even know I was comin’ or not.” Jasper snickered, the door closing behind him as he adjusted the wool cap on his head.

"How're things looking out there?" Without being prompted, Riley reached under the workbench to produce two glasses and a half-empty bottle of whiskey - each of which was placed upright and just off to the side. "Have we reached Operation Behemoth  levels of fucked yet? Or are we already at Red Avalanche?" The question was posed as she set to the task of pouring a heavy-handed glass for them both.

“We ain’t at Avalanche levels of fucked, but we’re gettin’ close to Behemoth. Shit’s tits up over in Darkshire, Redridge is seein' some action, but Elwynn looks to be holdin' okay fer the time bein' - far as my informants go, at least." Joining Riley at the table, he swiped up the glass she'd poured for him and helped himself to a hearty pull; the shiver that ran down his spine made him sneer, but the whiskey was a good chaser for the topic at hand. His mention of Darkshire made Riley visibly tense, though she did what she could to hide the creak in her jaw with a swift pull from her own glass.

"This is bad, Red." She shook her head, meeting his gaze with a sense of trepidation. "It's one thing when this shit happens out in the middle of nowhere, but this close to the city? A dense population in panic is never a good thing, and I'm not just referring to how fucking crowded this place is." A look of mild derision flashed across her features as she glanced towards the window.

"No shit it's bad, Riles," Jasper said with a chuckle, body moving to lean his back against the table while he crossed his arms, and contemplated his drink. “Doubtin’ it’ll go completely to shit fer a few more days. Maybe a week. But, it ain't like we've never been here before, you an' I. We've been doin' this kinda shit a long time - I might 'ave gotten too fat fer my leathers, but we both know what we're doin." He shrugged gently and took a smaller sip of his whiskey.

“I’m thinkin’ we’ll set up at a choke point, like we used ta, remember?” He took a drink. “An’ as they come swarmin’ in, I’ll keep ‘em at bay, while ya pick off tha stragglers. Or, we can rig up onna them traps we used ta.”

"That could work," another sip from her glass allowed for a moment to further consider Jasper's plan. "I'd like to keep the passage concealed, but if we need to fall back at any point, we'll have a way out there." She paused, head canting slightly to the side. "Or a place to lay low for a while, at the very least. Space will be extremely limited, though, so we'll have to keep that option between us, yeah?"

Jasper hummed, contemplating her proposition. "Ain't ever a day we've 'ad to use that, and you know it." He sighed, knowing that even just bringing up their potential escape route meant she was more than a little worried about their current situation. "You take the boys down there, if it comes to that. Me an' Foxy'll head out to her dad's old farm in Westfall, an' we'll all lay low fer a while, like ya said." Gulping down the rest of his drink, he set the glass back down and nudged it wordlessly towards the bottle. "Whatcha think, Riles? I'll get you the location on a map an' you three can join us there if the city gets compromised."

"If it comes to that." Riley nodded, parroting her friend's words as though reciting some kind of mantra. She refilled their glasses.

"Think you’ll ‘ave my leathers done in time?” The refill was acknowledged with an appreciative nod as Jasper once more took up his whiskey.

"I'll have them finished tonight - just need you to endure one last fitting so I can make a couple final adjustments." She nodded over towards the end of her workbench where several articles of leather armor had been neatly stacked. "Finish your drink - we've got a lot of shit to do, and less time to do it."

(( Many thanks to @jasper-quinn​ for their contribution, as always <3 ))

[odessii-dragonblade]

Chaos Strikes

Dark skies had been the only warning of impending danger. An omen that had turned a knot in Odessii’s stomach as she’d made her typical way through Cullfield on a visit.

It was only because Adisor had been with her that they had been truly prepared for anything. It had been a simple thing - he’d suddenly lost his balance, and found himself holding himself up against a wall, as Odessii moved to his side. His hand reached for his head, as if to grasp at something in his very mind, before he looked at her, brows pressed together, and spoke two simple words: “Something’s changed...”

It was a strange twist of fate that found them there, the pair of siblings whose sources of strength were so different. Odessii embodied the Light at her best moments, and wielded it with conviction all other times - while Adisor counted himself among the damned, those who had been made to serve Arthas before finding their freedom. But, that twist of fate had given them both some premonition - not of what was coming, but that something was coming, with enough warning that forces had been at the ready by the time the Scourge arrived.

Now, they had been fighting for what felt like hours, and very well might have been. Who could say for sure, who could look to the sky for an idea of the time, when any glance away from the infinite horde could spell doom?

Her shield, empowered by the Light, came back to Odessii’s arm just in time for her to block gnarled claws from one such fiend, the Paladin quickly deflecting the strike and running her sword up and through the Ghoul’s half-rotted head. She tore her blade back out through the undead creature, backing up a few paces and taking up a defensive stance again, back to back with her brother. “There’s no end to them! You’re sure this isn’t the Lich King’s doing?”

Behind her, Adisor swung his greatsword in a wide arc, cleaving several undead in half at the waist in a single strike. Their family sword had gone quite some time unstained, since the War ended - but this invasion felt as though it was more than making up for lost time. Adisor spoke quickly, his voice echoing in on itself, with the experienced urgency of one that had seen his fair share of chaotic battles. “I can’t say anything for sure - but I felt something before this all started, something... Something I don’t even know how to describe. Like some connection was severed between myself and something I can’t name.”

A heavy grunt came from deep in his lungs as he brought his blade down on another Ghoul, splitting it most of the way down the middle. He and Ode sidestepped in time with each other, each striking at undead as they came close. All around them, in the amber fields of Redridge, soldiers fought for their very lives, and the lives of those in the village they were protecting - though this day would not end without casualties. Adisor scanned the battlefield, keeping focused on the conflict before him despite continuing to speak. “All I know for sure is that when the Legion invaded, the Lich King called upon the Ebon Blade to defend Azeroth. I’ve heard no call in my mind to attack, so this must be something else.”

Odessii tossed her shield again, watching the golden disc bounce between ghouls, dislodging bits and pieces from them as it struck. Again, she held her arm out to catch it as it returned to her, chancing a momentary glance over her shoulder towards Adisor. “Sylvanas?”

Adisor paused to look back at her, locking their gazes together for the first time since the battle began. “It’s possible - but we can worry about it later. This fight is going to last a while.”

Odessii furrowed her brows, nodding before turning her attention back in front of her, swinging her blade for yet another Ghoul that came at her, now pressing forward again. 

Adisor’s gaze lingered on his sister a moment - he could fight like this indefinitely, it was what he was made for when he had been risen. But she was only human... She would grow tired, weaker, the longer this went on. But she wouldn’t fight like it... She would fight like she were as unwavering as he, even if it brought her to her last breath.

But, with the battle raging around them, there was no time for worry. The Scourge wasn’t stopping, and neither could they. They could only hope the battle was ended before they had lost too much... And fight on.

[grimlins-chaos]

Since OC questions are flying around, I have some for Fishone and Varian! 1) Does Fish have any close friends or that one best friend? Do they know about her and Varian? If so, for how long? 2) Has she and Varian had a major falling out or argument? If so, what was it about? And 3) (i can't remember if this was mentioned before hand) Was Myrl planned or a happy surprise?

AAAAAAAA I hope you're ready for a lot of rambling because once i get going i cannot stop my verbal vomit

1.) Does Fish have any close friends or that one best friend? Do they know about her and Varian? If so, for how long?

Fishone's main friend circle namely consists of a Troll, blood elf, a human noble woman, another human and his son, and a dwarf (there's also obviously Broll and Valeera). She confides in mainly Jaelyn (the noble woman) and Finnius (that other human), the troll, Zivan'ji as well. (The dwarf being a blacksmith named Frisla and the blood elf is named Aeleneron, he was actually Fish's squire for a short while)

As for their knowledge on Fish's relationship with Varian..

With Zivan'ji, the first time she meets Varian she just automatically assumes there's something there. "Very close friendship, or some deeeeep pining" is her main thought about it but she's willing to admit being wrong (and when she was right she was damn proud of herself).

And everyone else were at least aware of Fishone's feelings towards Varian, Jaelyn and Finnius knowing that those feelings were ones she harbored for years before they eventually hooked up.

But when she and Varian did finally get together, she told Finnius who was excited for them but Jaelyn found out in a.. less pleasant manner.

She owns a cabin and she allowed Fish to use it while Jaelyn was gone on her trip. There was a slight misunderstanding as Fish thought Jaelyn would be off on her trip to redridge for a couple weeks as usual but that wasn't the case this time around and Jaelyn thought it'd be a good idea to check in on the cabin. Only to find a couple of bottles, a rough looking basket, the sofa fuckin' broke, and clothes thrown about a bit, and Fishone "cuddling" in the bed with the fucking king of stormwind and all three were all damn horrified at the situation. (This would take place after my one comic where Fishone would try to throw Varian off the dock and pure chaos ensued with the accidental murder of the sofa)

2.) Has she and Varian had a major falling out or argument? If so, what was it about?

They've had some pretty bad fights, their only biggest falling out was during cata.

(be warned as the first bit is most definitely a heavy subject)

The first big one was when they were fairly young (before stormwind was reclaimed and Fishone had actually gone by the name Ashona which was her birthname), and he tried to convince her to get away from her father after a situation where her father was openly barrating her for having the audacity to make a mistake. Varian saw the clear toxicity and abuse and genuinely feared for her safety but Fish just thought she was deserving of it.

Fishone would send him a letter to say "you were right.. i wish i had listened. But i thank you for opening my eyes" And that would be the last he or anyone would hear from her before she disappeared. He tried looking for her but found out that Fish was exposed as a bastard child and her half sister had been killed after being falsely accused, and he.. feared one of his dear friends was gone too, But that obviously wasn't the case.

Their next 'argument' would relate back to that, (years later, and between her and Lo'gosh during the whole onyxia stuff) where Lo'gosh just straight up yells at her for disappearing without telling him where or at least how she was because he believed her to be dead for all those years and she admits for being wrong in not telling him and explains that she had ran away finally, running into Finnius and he got her into adventuring and it's helped her to heal and move on even if the trauma still runs deep. And ultimately Lo'gosh is just relieved to see her alive and safe.

As mentioned before, their biggest fight would happen during cata while Varian was struggling after what happened with Anduin. He tried to push Fishone away as he believed in doing so he wouldn't hurt her either, especially after the abuse her father had put her through. That ended up with her breaking down a door and pin him to the damn floor and tell him he's acting like a fool. They would avoid one another for a few days but ultimately he would come to her apologizing and admitting he needs help and she would forgive him and help him to get himself in order and then reach out to Anduin to attempt to heal the wound made.

3.) (i can't remember if this was mentioned before hand) Was Myrl planned or a happy surprise?

More so happy surprise but kind of both. They were planning to have kids anyway but they were hoping to have that after they got married. With Myrl, she came a little early lol.

They were engaged, but Anduin got stranded on pandaria and Fishone went with the rescue team to get him back. When the symptoms started hitting pretty damn hard she started to realize that maybe they weren’t as careful as they thought they were being. But She nor Varian are upset about it, they were definitely hoping it would happen at a more convenient time.

[axelxmartinez]

(Hi I love to plot, hit me up and let’s chat!)

Introduction @redridgeimp​

FULL NAME:  Axel Jose Diego Martinez

NICKNAMES(S):  Axe, Ax, Diablo

AGE:  33

DATE OF BIRTH:  October 30th, 1986

PLACE OF BIRTH:  Red Ridge, Nevada

CURRENT LOCATION:  Red Ridge, Nevada.

ETHNICITY:  Latino. Mexican primarily and his mother was partially Caucasian (European descent), as well as Mexican and Dominican.

GENDER:  Cis male.

PRONOUNS:  He/him/his.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  Bisexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION:  quoiromantic

RELIGION:  Atheist.

OCCUPATION:  Owner of Roberto's and Bone breaker for Valencia.

EDUCATION LEVEL:  he dropped out of high school in the beginning of 11th grade. 

EXTRACURRICULAR:  Boxing, lifting weights, playing video games, occasionally reading

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS:  Owns his parents house, a medium sized single family home with 4 bedrooms, an unfinished basement, nothing to brag about on the south side of redridge

SPEAKING VOICE AND ACCENT:  Deep, smooth voice with a hint of a Spanish accent, especially when he's angry. Normally keeps a steady tone, unless he’s really upset about something.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

FACECLAIM: Manny Montana 

HAIR COLOR AND STYLE:  black, shaved short

COMPLEXION:  Brown on the lighter side with neutral undertones

EYE COLOR:  Brown.

EYESIGHT: 20/30 the last time he checked, he probably could use corrective lenses for driving or reading something but he doesn’t bother with it.

HEIGHT:  6’1” or 185cm

WEIGHT:  169lbs or 77kg

BODY AND BUILD:  Muscular, lean, well-defined muscles. 

TATTOOS: tons, he gets them at random and the only theme to them is that they are black and white. The obvious ones most people see are the skull on his throat and the ones on his fingers and hands. (See his pinterest linked at the bottom for more ideas in this area)

PIERCINGS: none, he fights too much to have piercings.

CLOTHING STYLE:  jeans, hoodies, t-shirts, flannels, button down shirts, primarily black for everything. 

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS:  tattoos all over his body, small linear scar on his eyebrow where no hair grows, various scars all over his body - some covered with tattoos and some not. Also wears necklaces and rings, has a few random bracelets made by his nieces and nephews.

HEALTH.

MENTAL DISORDER(S):  ADD is all he’s been diagnosed with, though he likely has an anxiety disorder as well. 

PHYSICAL DISORDER(S):  none

ALLERGIES:  the pollen gets to him in the spring but he just ignores it

SLEEPING HABITS:  insomniac, he sleeps in small shifts between work and whatever he’s doing during the day. 

EATING HABITS:  Axel has a high metabolism so he eats a lot and often, he tends to pick things up while he’s moving around town and keeps protein bars and snacks in his car for in between meals

SOCIABILITY: extroverted introvert, he tends to be around people but doesn’t go out of his way to strike up conversation unless he feels it necessary, knows the person already, or is spoken to first. 

BODY TEMPERATURE:  neutral.

ADDICTIONS:  Nicotine, Caffeine, some would argue he drinks a little too much but he doesn’t think so.

DRUG USE:  Depends on the drug. He smokes marijuana frequently, but anything else is occasionally and he refuses to touch needles or anything made purely from chemicals (i.e. Meth). 

ALCOHOL USE:  Frequently, usually has a drink or two everyday. Sometimes more, sometimes less. He prefers brandy and tequila but also enjoys beer and will always accept a free drink regardless of what it is.

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS:  Hardworking, Efficient, Honest, Strong, Confident, Curious

NEGATIVE TRAITS:  Callous, Insensitive, Secretive, Possessive, Withdrawn, Stubborn

LIKES:  Fighting, good food, drinking, video games, smoking, sex, most things physical, some reading, fire

DISLIKES:  Schools, authority (mainly police), drama, airplanes, inactivity

FEARS: His only fear that he could ever pinpoint was his father.

HABITS: Plays with his fingers, touches his face, staring without talking, smoking, rain

ASTROLOGY:  Scorpio Sun, Sagittarius Rising, Libra Moon

PERSONALITY TYPE:  INTJ

MORAL ALIGNMENT:  Chaotic Neutral

HOGWARTS HOUSE:  Slytherin.

ELEMENT:  Fire

WEATHER: Overcast or Sunny

COLOR:  Black

MUSIC:  Rock, Metal, 90’s hip hop

MOVIE:  Documentaries or Action movies

SPORT:  Baseball and Soccer

BEVERAGE:  Brandy or Tequila

FOOD:  Waffles

ANIMAL: Snake

SEASON:  Summer

FAMILY, RELATIONSHIPS, ETC.

MOTHER: Antonia Martinez (Rodriguez)  

FATHER:  Roberto Martinez, deceased

SIGNIFICANT OTHER:  none

SIBLING(S):  5 younger siblings, names and ages vague for future wc

CHILDREN:  TBD

PET(S): Ball Python named Slinky

PROMPT.

“ROUTINE”: violence tw, death tw

Ever since he was a teenager, Axel has worked at Roberto’s. At his father’s insistence to teach him some responsibility, as the owner, it was common for him to hire his children and other relatives because he didn’t trust anyone. When Roberto, his father, went to prison and was simultaneously killed while there, his business was given to his eldest son. Axel wasn’t very torn up about losing his father, it made his life significantly easier and allowed him to take over the role as head of the Martinez family. Something he’d been well prepared for and while he wasn’t the nicest guy, he wasn’t the psychopath Roberto was. At least, he didn’t think he was. 

With his father gone, his days started with the sun (if he even got to bed the night before). He opened the convenient store, put the money in the till for the starting shift and made sure everything was turned on and stocked from the night before. Once the first shift comes in, he usually heads to the back to double check that everything is locked up and set up for the next shift. After that is usually when he gets word of anything Valencia needs him to do that day. Even though he’s not a soldier anymore, he likes to keep busy so he picks up slack where he can. If not, he starts checking in on his younger siblings and making sure they are doing what they’re supposed to be doing and staying out of trouble. If he doesn’t have anything pressing to get done, he heads to the gym to do his usual workout and possibly some sparring to keep his endurance at peak along with his fighting technique. Afterwards, he hits up Ridge Roasters if he’s going to the North side of town and gets his coffee with a random pastry to go. Otherwise, he heads to Blue Hill Diner for a proper breakfast and chats with the staff there or scrolls through his phone. He heads back to the convenient store if they need him, otherwise he heads home for a nap or just to relax. Most days he can trust his shift supervisors or the manager to finish up the rest of the day at Roberto’s. Only on occasion does he have to cover a shift or go in to change the cash register for a shift. 

By five or six in the evening, Axel crosses the threshold of St. Peters and takes a spot at the bar. If he feels like dinner, he gets something to eat. Otherwise he has a few drinks to pass the time and watches the environment. If he’s lucky, he catches something that isn’t supposed to be happening in Redridge without approval and brings it to a higher up. Otherwise, he wastes some time before Rogue’s opens and he can go watch the fights for the night. By the time it’s his turn to get in the ring, he’s usually itching to start fighting. He’s not one to get excited about much, but once he gets sight of his ‘opponent’ a wide shark-like smile will spread across his face. Axel loves the work he gets to do with Valencia and if he could do more he would. Fighting and getting rid of people was something he specialized in, he was damn good at it, too. If he was lucky, he brought someone home with him at the end of the night. If not, he has another drink and heads back to his house to watch something on the television or, if he’s even luckier, gets a few hours of sleep before he has to wake up and repeat it all the next day. 

“REMINISCENCE”:  violence tw, alcohol tw, blood tw, death tw

“Not everyone gets to just blurt out how the feel about whoever or whatever on a fuckin’ whim, dude.” Axel spoke into his glass, the third brandy making his voice hoarse. Stuck in the reverie that his best friend had pulled from him. That afternoon they’d gotten the news that his father was found dead in the showers that morning. He was out celebrating. That man had never done anything for anyone, nothing good at least and definitely not any of his kids. Axel looked at the brown liquid in his glass and swirled it around. “Remember back in high school, that kid Jake who used to hang around sometimes?” He asked, eyes still on the glass. “We used to mess around or whatever. I was young and stupid.” He shook his head, knowing at twenty-five he wasn’t exactly old but he was a lot older than he was then. “Anyways, it had been a few months and I started talkin’ a big game like I was the boss of my house. My papi didn’t give a shit what I did or who I was with and all that. We stopped at Roberto’s after school to get some snacks or whatever. You know, same shit different day.” Axel paused and let out a slow sigh. The alcohol was getting to his head and loosening his tongue to reveal shit he’d never talked about with anyone. Most people knew his father was a prick that was quick to correct his children with his hands rather than his words, but Axel didn’t ever make it seem like it bothered him. He sure as hell didn’t let on that he harbored a great fear of the man. “We were at the counter paying, right in front of my dad and Jake tried to lean in for a kiss or somethin’ to say thank you or some shit. I just freaked out, I didn’t know what to do because that shit wasn’t goin’ to fly with Roberto Martinez. Not one of his kids. So, I pushed him away and beat his ass bloody right there for all the world to see.” He didn’t want his dad to do it and if he thought for a second that Axel was into guys he would probably shoot him on the spot. Definitely would have gotten rid of him in one way or the other. Even if he still liked girls, too. “My brother had to pull me off of him. I was so fuckin’ scared man, I just kept hittin’ him. He had to go to the hospital and his parents didn’t even press charges, they straight pulled him out of school. I never even saw him again.” Axel finished off his glass and exhaled the burn it left in his throat and chest. “Out of all the people I’ve beat in my lifetime, all the shit I’ve done, man. That’s the only one I regret. But you know the sad part?” He let out a bitter laugh. “If I could go back and do it over, I’d still beat his ass. What the fuck does that say about me?” Axel shut up after that, didn’t even really pay attention to what his friend had to say about any of it. He drowned himself in a bottle and had no idea how he got home at the end of the night. 

BACKGROUND. ( abuse tw, death tw, violence tw)

Born and raised in Redridge, oldest of six children. Some of his siblings still live in Redridge, others have left and spread around the country. He has a large extended family. They live all over the country, Mexico, and South America.

His father was a very strict man and ran his household with an iron fist. He believed his children should be seen and not heard. If one of them were to step out of line, show defiance, or generally make him angry in any way, he normally responded by correcting them physically instead of with words. He owned Roberto’s, which he started before Axel was born. Roberto was also a member of Valencia working up from street rat to lieutenant. He was arrested when Axel was twenty and died in prison when he was twenty-five.

Antonia, his mother, was a reserved woman. She was hard-working and loved her children. However, she listened to her husband and he was the head of the household. When Roberto went to prison, Axel took over the role of head of the household. His mother fell ill in his late twenties and currently lives in an assisted living facility in Redridge. Axel visits her regularly.

As for his siblings, he keeps up with all of them. One attends the community college and he is adamant that they keep up with their grades and continue their education. He keeps in almost daily touch with each and every one of them and adores his nieces and nephews. Whenever he can visit, he makes a point to but hates to fly so it is usually only once or twice a year at most for those who live outside of Nevada. 

School wasn’t Axel’s strong suit. He could never focus and everything just made him feel like he was stupid when he knew he wasn’t stupid. He just wasn’t book smart. So he dropped out right before eleventh grade and worked at Roberto’s. As soon as he was able to, he joined Valencia as a street rat and moved up the ranks to Bone-breaker once he had proven himself. However, he enjoys doing soldier work still so he will pick up any spare jobs if they are available.

As far as romance goes, Axel has never been with anyone long. He enjoys both women and men and their company, but he has a hard time letting anyone past his walls. The few times he has tried, he fucked it up in one way or another. So, he stays single and just holds casual relationships. 

He loves to fight and he is good at making people disappear, getting jobs done efficiently, and intimidation. Axel is very loyal to Valencia.

Currently, he is always on the move. He doesn’t like to be idle for long. So he is either doing work for Valencia or Roberto’s, moving around town, drinking at a bar, eating somewhere, fighting at Rogue’s, at the gym, watching fights, or sleeping in between any of those activities. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Friends With Benefits/One-night Stands (unlimited): He likes physical activity and touch, he tries to pick people up often and especially after a fight. This could have been happening for a long time or just a night or be brand new. 

Best Friend (0/1): This person knows him better than anyone. They just get him and is likely the only person he’s ever opened up to. 

Close Friends (0/6): These people know him better than most, but he probably has only opened up about one or two things to them. He trusts these people and likes to be around them.

Employees: Anyone who wants to work at Roberto’s

Budding Romance (0/1): could be a fwb that progresses, someone who’s always been around but neither of them made the move to advance it past anything.

Enemies: Self explanatory, but they always butt heads in one way or another. Possibly have fought in the past, but definitely never have anything nice to say about one another.

Past relationships (0/4): People who tried to break through his walls and didn’t get through. Or they just didn’t work out for any multitude of reasons.

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kitmeowza/c-axel-martinez/

[aelryndel]

Ael’s Pilgrimage Day 6

Day Six: Karazahn

Ael was up early, before dawn early. As he led, Adrenas out of the stables, he paid the stable keeper and then was on his way once more. The duo left Bog Paddle and headed for Deadwind Pass. The trip was arduous, Adrenas nearly slipped several times on the decaying cliffs and deteriorating roads that lead through Deadwind Pass. When he arrived in the little town, well the ruins of it. He immediately felt a shiver run down his spine. Was he being watched? Who was out there? Instinctually, the arcane began to gather around him defensively.  If Ael thought his troubles were over when he finally arrived at Kara’s main entrance, he quickly realized that was not the case. He rode up to the main entrance and immediately felt the deep arcane connection of the nexus that sat underneath the crumbling tower. Knowing this was going to be dangerous, the task Alison gave him, he dismounted and let Adrenas go about his own business. The Warhorse was more than capable of defending himself. Ael needed to worry about what he’d find on his way up to the library in the ruined home of the old Guardian. He grabbed his pack, his shield, and his spellblade and then entered the main entrance.

Inside the tower, Ael moved quietly through the courtyard and into the main house. The ghosts he knew were there seemed to be quiet for the time being. He traveled through the grand hall, and into the banquet hall. His luck ran out when he attempted to enter the Master’s Terrace. An arcane construct blocked the path to the upper levels and ultimately the library. There was no way to go around. The Spellblade drew his enchanted blade, the broadsword ignited in golden energy as its master drew it. Ael whispered the spell he needed to cast before this turned into full on combat. His armor lit up with the magical runes embedded in it and the soft translucent golden magic made his armor shine slightly. He strolled forward cautiously and engaged the construct. The fight went as one would have expected. Ael’s enchanted Spellbreaker armor basically nullified the arcane construct’s magical attacks. With the magical properties being negated, the Elven Spellblade only had to deal with the actual impacts of the massive construct’s physical attacks. Within a half of an hour, he emerged. He was battered and bruised but he had vanquished his foe not without great effort. From the menagerie, he ascended the tower and a little while later made it to the Library. 

Inside the library he realized the true difficulty of the task Alison had given him. How was he going to find one book in so many? Aelryndel began searching the closest shelves. No luck. He moved on to the next, then the next, and the next. He searched every bookshelf in the library and couldn’t find the book. It had been hours. But the Squire would not fail the last task his Knight Mentor had given him. Ael began searching the piles of books scattered all over the large room. Another hour or so later, he managed to find the book he was searching for, A Treatise On Time: Volume 1&2, The Year of Southern Tempests. Having retrieved the book, the dutiful Squire stuffed into his pack and then moved to the exit. It was then he heard them. The ghosts, they were coming. Had his taking the book released them? Angered them? He’d be damned if some long dead servants were going to stop him from returning a book belonging to the Royal Library. Ael muttered an incantation, and began the hand gestures associated with forming the spell. As he summoned the Arcane to his hands and began to morph it to his typical holy hybrid power, he felt the power of the nexus pulsating beneath the base of the tower.  What surprised him was the amount of power he felt in his hands as he cast the spell. As the words of the spell began to spill out from the Wizard’s mouth, “Shar Diel dath dor Al’shar.” the golden magic surged with the completion of the spell. And just in time. Ghosts, too numerous to count, began converging on the Aelryndel. The surge of power combined with his own magic caused the explosion of holy arcane fire to blast outward and engulfed the entire library in the holy fire. The Ghosts were subsequently destroyed or just temporarily sent back to where they came from. Ael did not have time to reflect on what just happened. The Library seemed to be burning, and the heat felt real to him. He grabbed a chair and hesitantly smashed one the stained glass windows. Whispering another spell he ran and dove out the window near the top of the tower.  

His spell kicked in as he was plummeting to his death. His rapid descent was slowed completely, almost to a stop. He slowly fell, righting himself so that when he arrived on the ground he’d be standing upright. Within a few moments he was back on the ground, book still in his pack and mission accomplished. So he thought. Outside a trio of humanoids had Adrenas cornered in a dilapidated ruin of a house. There were a few of their bodies on the ground around them, it seems Adrenas had tried to fight them off. Ael acted quickly. “Neph’o Shar Alah!” he shouted as he sprinted towards his steed. Arcane magic flew to his hands and he flung the magic outward in a thin fan-like wave of energy that slowly morphed from the azure of the arcane to the bright gold of holy magic. The wave smashed into the trio as they were turning to see the source of the shout. It threw them back into the walls of the house. Without stopping Ael leapt up on to Adrenas, whistling as he did so the Warhorse would move immediately. As they darted into the ruined town. More of the black garbed humanoids began to pour out of the other houses. They were benign controlled, Ael deduced as every avenue he took through the town seemed to quickly swell with the mysterious brigands. They were funneling him to a specific place. The former Elven Cavalier relented and followed the open streets to the town center. There stood a black robed person. As Ael arrived, the mystery person drew the dark hood back, revealing a half human half elven face, nearly skeletal in appearance. 

“Welcome. Welcome.” he said in an icy voice. Which made Ael narrow his gaze at the thing, before he looked around as all exits were quickly cut off by masses of black garbed skeletons? “A necromancer, how quaint!” Ael said in response, “You are an original...” Aelryndel started. “...With a flair for the theatrics.” The half Elven necromancer smirked and performed a theatrical bow. “I try. Now if you will hand over whatever it is you took from the Library, we’ll be on our way. If you won’t, well let's not find out what happens if you don’t. And don’t bother lying, I heard the ghosts when you stole the book.” Ael’s eyebrows raised curiously, “And what are you? An Opera reject turned self-proclaimed protector of the Guardian’s Library’s virginity?” 

There was no humor in the Necromancer’s response. “Cocky. I can respect that. But do you think that because you survived the climb to the tower’s top you are some kind of accomplished explorer or.. What are you anyway? An upside down broom?” Ael couldn’t help it, that was funny. He laughed out loud at his own expense. “You’re right. That is exactly what I am. Shall I show you what this helm symbolizes?” Ael asked honestly as he pointed to the Cavalier’s helm on his head. As the half Elf deliberated upon his response, Ael reached into his pack and grabbed the extra blank pilgrimage journal he had brought. Using his finger he inscribed a rune on the leather cover and pressed his hand to it. The run was empowered and then faded away completely. 

“You’ve stalled long enough, interloper. The book. Now. Or we kill you.” The necromancer demanded holding his hand out. Ael sighed heavily, “Now that’s just too bad. But alright you drive a hard bargain.” Ael drew the boobytrapped tome and held it up. “You want it? Catch!” Ael tossed the book high into the air and then kicked Adrenas into motion. As they smashed, stomped and cut their way through the mass of undead, Ael called out back towards the necromancer. “Shar Bandu!” The tome in the half Elf’s hand lit up, with the rune on the cover glowing bright golden. “Time to go, boy!” The rider said to the mount. Adreans knew and responded in kind. The two barged through the mass just as Ael’s trap went off. A huge blast  of holy magic disintegrated the necromancer and most of his skeletons around him. The remaining one fell to pieces without their master’s magic. Ael and Adreans shot out onto the road leaving the town and leading out of Deadwind Pass just avoiding the blast. 

Rider and horse didn’t stop, they rode hard and fast, without looking back. Both of them had had enough of ghosts, undead, and necromancers. When they exited Deadwind Pass and entered Duskwood, the same eerie feeling Ael hated about this area returned. He huffed and pushed Adrenas faster. “We’re almost home, bud.” By nightfall, the duo arrived in Redridge. The familiar blue and gold of the Alliance made them both happy as they rode through Three Corners. And then finally they arrived back in Elwynn. It was late, nearly midnight, but they were so close so they rode on till they arrived at the Garrison sometime after three of four in the morning.

[breadknight-likes-things]

Bread’s Game Journal 08/04/20: I’m Sorry, I Really Need To Talk About My Issues With WoW Classic.

I read an excellent piece on some of the problems facing WoW classic today.  Problems including lack of players in the leveling zones, an overly complacent level cap’d playerbase more content to stand around capital cities selling runs to actually do anything fun and helpful for the community.  And finally, my biggest agreement, the air of mystery the game once had simply being gone, and the game feeling much more dull than it should as a result.

All of these aren’t just 100% true, they echo my and a lot of others early predictions about how WoW Classic was really going to go.  We all kind of knew that the surge of players that we all loved to see in the beginning would eventually give way to abandoned low level zones.  Whether it was because people had simply left them and never planned to go back, or because people checking out WoW Classic to see what the hype was about likely just discovered what the game actually was: outdated and clunky, a relic from 2004 brought into the harsh light of 2020.

And who could blame them?  Like I mentioned before there was a huge sense of discovery and mystery that served as a driving force behind why I and a lot of other people played World of Warcraft.  It was the first time I’d ever really played a game that felt like a proper world, rather than just a series of levels or a large open area.  Azeroth felt like it would endure on it’s own even when I wasn’t there, and exploring it and finding new things out in the world was really it’s own reward.  Now though?  We all know where everything is, so why bother?

I know it was nearly 9 P.M in the middle of the week, but even Stormwind felt sort of abandoned, which is.....odd.

We know how the Defias storyline is going to go in Westfall because we all did it before.  I know where the Blackrock Orcs are camped out in Redridge Mountains.  Hell, Stormwind seems smaller to me even though it takes way longer to get around, simply because I know where everything is and all the shortcuts to take to get there  The game just doesn’t hold any mystery anymore.  When I did Deadmines with my friends we knew all the exploits and strategies to take against all the bosses because, frankly, we remember doing them in 2006.

The worst part about all of this is that WoW classic does still feel like coming home.  It still activates the nostalgia part of my brain in a big way, and to an extent I do love playing it with my friends.....but it’s a truly poorly aged video game.  All the quality of life improvements Blizzard made over the years are far more essential than people tried to convince us they were when they begged over and over for Vanilla Servers.  Sadly, I think even these people know this, because people are really just back to sitting in capital cities, being either vaguely or full blown racist in trade chat, and wasting both their own and everyone else’s time being cynical about this game that was once so full of wonder and discovery.  

All that said, someone give me 40 gold because for the love of god I really don’t want to have to get into a damn finance college course just to figure out how i’m going to afford my mount in 20 levels.

Random Screenshot Of The Day:

Now on the other hand we do have this inexplicably named NPC “Thor” just handing out gryphon rides to everyone down in Westfall.  So that’s fun.

Stray Notes:

- I have none!  Other than a blanket “Bread has gone negative, make a note to make fun of him for it later” suggestion to anyone reading this, I deserve it.

[brightbell]

A Letter to Sisters

My Dear Sisters,

I have just returned home from a visit to Outland, as the people here call it. It has taken me many years to gather the courage to go on this quest, and I honestly can not say if I am glad that I did, or if I regret it. 

It was, without a doubt, one of the hardest things I have done since we decided to leave Talador and join the Alliance in Azeroth. 

My heart is broken. I have seen things that would make the hardest Vindicator fall to their knees. I have seen what has become of our blessed Auchindoun, and I fear I will never recover from the sight. It is in ruins. A shell of its former glory, abandoned and left to the ravages of time, and demons. I explored the area extensively, and found nothing but sorrow.

Our planet itself has been blasted to pieces, most of it unrecognizable as the (mostly) beautiful place we know it as. Names of places have changed, and once-great cities have either been left to the devices of the forests, or they have been reduced to ashes. 

Talador is no more there. It is now a place called Terokkar Forest, and that is where the ruins of Auchindoun lay. Shattrath, by some miracle, still stands, but it seems to be shrouded in shadows, instead of being a beacon of Light and hope. I stayed there for a few days, preparing for our journey to Auchindoun, which is surrounded by a vast wasteland where nothing grows any longer. 

Ashran is completely gone. There is no sign of it anywhere, and nothing, except my maps of Draenor, to know it even existed. And Tanaan itself is veritable hell, now called Hellfire Peninsula. The very land is scorched and corrupted beyond recognition. Monstrous beasts and demons roam the hellscape, and it is there that the Dark Portal resides.   

I do not even begin to know how to describe Gorgrond, it has broken off from the rest of the planet and is now called Netherstorm. It is frightening, I mean, it always was, but now it is something so different that it shocks the senses. Arcane magics rule there, and there is a Draenei vessel known as Tempest Keep that sits just off the edge of the land. It, too, is corrupted, but with arcane magic instead of felfire. 

What was once Frostfire Ridge is now a vast desert canyon, with enormous spiked cliffs, aptly called Blade’s Edge Mountains. It is hot and arid, no sign of the pure, soft snow that used to cover the ground. I do not know what could have happened to make the land become so perverted, and to look like it does now. I did not linger long there.

Traveling south, we came into Zangarmarsh, what used to be the Zangar Sea. The sea is now mostly gone, and in its place is little islands dotting the area, huge mushrooms, and alien species living there. And Trolls. Damned Trolls have taken over some of the areas there. 

The Spires of Arak is completely gone, like Ashran, no evidence of the land’s existence at all. It’s like the land was just blasted away. And Shadowmoon Valley, how do I even describe what I saw there? Nightmare inducing might be the easiest way. There are no more lush forests. There are no more cities. The only thing that is there now is felfire, demons, beasts and the Black Temple that lays in ruins itself. It was hideous.

The only place that bears any resemblance to home is Nagrand, and even it is greatly changed. Oshu’gun is also abandoned, and settlements of orcs reside everywhere, along with ogres and other various unsavory things. 

All in all, it was not a fun adventure, not at all. The greatest loss, I believe, is Talador and Auchindoun. But it is all just so foreign, and so heartbreaking that it was like visiting a different planet, instead of what was once our home in this timeline. None of our family nor ancestors are still alive in this reality. 

My sweet Elodie, I humbly request that you do not attempt this journey, I fear it would be too much for you. Relv’ka, if you decide to go, please meet with me first, it is not a journey for the faint of hear. 

I am going to return to my small cabin in Redridge, should either of you like to visit. 

All my love,

Kala’Ryn