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Storytime: Your Favorite QuestFollow

#52 Jun 18 2009 at 7:22 PM Rating: Decent
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Wordaen, Keeper of the Banstick wrote:
ShadorVIII wrote:
Desolace inspired me.

Desolace Part 1

Desolace Part 2


Both added as part 4 and part 5 :)

edit - I should have EVERYONE'S in there now. Feel free to take a look. The category is right on the main page of our wiki.

Edited, Jun 18th 2009 6:17pm by Wordaen


Oh, dear. Now I'll have to quit dicking about and actually finish writing the rest of it.

Srsly, though - this is really cool. I hope a lot of folks enjoy reading it as much as I had fun writing it.

Edit:
So, how do I go about getting the other parts wikified if/when I finish them? Just post linkage in this thread, or PM you, or what?

Edited, Jun 18th 2009 11:25pm by ShadorVIII
#53 Jun 18 2009 at 7:28 PM Rating: Excellent
You can email me, post it here or even add it yourself if you like. The wiki is open for anyone who wants to add their story but I really don't mind adding them either :)
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#54 Jun 20 2009 at 12:15 PM Rating: Excellent
Gonna bump this periodically for folks.
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#55 Jun 22 2009 at 2:52 PM Rating: Excellent
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A New - Life?

Part of her knew she had once been a priestess and sentinel, one of the chosen of Elune, but now she was something entirely different and served the dark, cold Lich King.

His presence and voice, echoing as if he were two beings not one, chilled her to the bone but she could not refuse him. Her instructor told her, "Kill or be killed," and that's what she did. Scarlet Crusaders, frightened villagers, it was all the same to this thing she had become, this killing machine.

And all the time she heard his voice in her head. "Do it! Kill them!"

She slew hundreds, by sword, by canon and by an instant plague device she used in the enemies' mines.

She was rewarded for each of her efforts, either by the Lich King himself or one of his favoured princes.

Then she was sent into New Avalon, behind enemy lines, to work with two death knights stationed there. One, Thassalian, asked her to rescue his friend, a blood elf death knight called Koltira as, "We are all brothers and sisters in death."

She had to go to the keep anyway, so agreed she would look for Koltira, at least.

When she searched she found Koltira in a basement room, lying on a rack. He had obviously been tortured. Almost forgotten emotions made her help him and although weak and in pain he helped her slay the inquisitor.

She was sent to the chapel as a 'reward' and there came face to face with an Argent Dawn prisoner who recognised her. "Kikuno, don't you recognise me? I used to look after you when you were a babe."

Kikonu? Was that her name then? She killed the night elf anyway and then helped finish New Avalon off with an aerial assault.

The Lich King rewarded her and sent her along with others to destroy the Aregent Dawn at Light's Hope Chapel. She was strangely pleased to see that both Thassarian and Koltira had survived and would be amongst the knights leading the assault on the chapel.

Black banners streaming behind them they charged into the fray. Ten thousand of the Scourge against a pitifully few hundred mortals. The outcome was inevitable.

It came as a shock when their commander's sword could not strike the Argent Dawn's leader. As he tried in vain to bring the weapon under his command, the battle died down as friend and foe alike turned to stare.

There was a bright light and even with her helm firmly in place, she had to shield her eyes against its brilliance. The ghost of their commander's father spoke to him, then the Lich King appeared. Surely now they would finish this.

Instead the sword in their commander's hand wounded the King!

He and the majority of the Scourge vanished in an instant after a last, threatening, "This isn't over."

She was confused. Were they abandoned? Would she die now or become as one of those stinking, mindless ghouls she'd commanded. She was afraid.

The Argent Dawn commander spoke, saying he would write them letters for the King of Stormwind and the Orc Warchief. All Kikuno could think about was what Tyrande would say.

But their commander was speaking once more. "We will take Archerus from the Scourge. It will become our new home, the Ebon Hold and we shall be the Knights of the Ebon Hold."

They returned to Archerus and fought off all the 'surprises' that Arthas had left for them in his spite and Kikonu wondered both at the hold he'd had over her and whether she was truly free of him.

Two weeks later she was in Honor Hold and people seemed to view her as one of them again. She even met up with Thassarian and Koltira from time to time when she returned to the Ebon Hold for supplies or to put runes on a new sword.

Life - or unlife - was good.
#56 Jun 23 2009 at 7:51 AM Rating: Excellent
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OK - here's my humble offering. A little long...

Quote:
Tahtonkah rose shortly before the sun rose, as was his normal habit. He splashed a little water on his face to clear the sleep from his eyes. He turned to face the east as the sun rose over the horizon. He still marveled at how beautiful this stark land, these Barrens, could really be; and how different from his own home in distant Mulgore. He gave a silent prayer of thanks to Father Sun and the Earth Mother, and offered some pollen in their honor. He also thanked the Rock People of the mountain he had slept on last night for their protection. His brother had been trained in the ways of the shaman and had taught him how to be notice and be respectful of the World around him.

He gathered his few belongings, slipped the pack on his broad back and picked up his trusty rifle. He spent a few moments making sure that it was loaded, the barrel was clear and no rust had appeared. He also checked the large hammer was in good order and hanging loose enough from the pack that he could pull it off with just a moments notice. He ate a quick breakfast and prepared to start the days business. Where is that cat] he thought to himself. Placing his fingers in his mouth he gave a loud, sharp whistle.

From a little ways down the ridge, a stand of bushes started to shake and out stepped the cat. “Come, Echeyakee, it is time to go.” He started down the mountain and would soon be on the plain below. This part of the Barrens was known as Agama’gor and was inhabited by a very unusual race of beings.

These creatures had, somewhere in their ancestry, a relation to the wild boars. They actually named their differing tribes after boars – the one around him called themselves Quillboars. He had first encountered their kin in Mulgore, where some of them had invaded the Brambleblade Ravine near Camp Narache and had also defiled an ancestral burying ground in Mulgore itself. When he had first encountered these creatures, he had tried to converse with one. All it did was issue it’s squealing war cry and attacked him. He tried on several different occasions but all with same result. Now, he doesn’t even try, they are kill on sight, especially after he say what they had done to the once lush canyon now called Brambleblade.
As Tahtonkah trotted down the mountainside, his partner Ecehyakee running by his side, he reflected on how he and the great white lion had become his constant companion. All Hunters have their own unique bond with the natural world, just like Shamen and Druids. The Hunter though, is more connected to the wildlife. He had been doing some work around the important trade hub known in the Orc tongue as Crossroads when he had been approached by a she-orc named Sergra Darkthorn. He had done some tasks for her in the past. She had told him that there was rampaging lion wreaking havoc in some of the farms in the northern barrens. He still remembers her words “Whitemist, Echeyakee in the Tauren tongue, is the king of the savannah cats. He hunts with such stealth, they say he's like a thin, white mist on the earth. And he kills so fast his prey has no time for fear, or pain. The Tauren say he is both mercy and death.”


She had given Tahtonkah a horn that, when blown, would have called the cat to who ever winded it. She asked that he kill the cat and brings its hide back so she could show the farmers that the threat had passed. Well, he had did as she had asked, but when he saw the great cat, Whitemist, Tahtonka felt a calling within his soul. He and the cat stopped and stared into each others eyes and bonded. He still felt proud that the cat would honor him so. This was the only task for Sergra that he did not complete to the letter. When she saw him coming back into Crossroads with Echeyakee by his side, she knew what had happened and she also knew that the lion would not be bothering the farmers anymore so she was satisfied.

While in Crossroads he had met an Orc named Mankrik, who had recently learned that his mate had been killed by the pig-men. He was consumed by rage and asked Tahtonkah to aid him in exacting vengeance on them. Mankrik had said “Perhaps you know the pain of uncertainty, perhaps not, Tahtonkah. But know this: I stand here every day, from the sun's rising till its decline, scouring the horizon for more of those monsters. I've killed every pig man I've come across since, but my thirst for their blood is far from quenched. Perhaps instead of heading north to the Crossroads I should have headed to Taurajo. Please help me. Kill them. Kill as many as you can. Bring me their tusks, and we will celebrate their deaths together.”
Tahtonkah could only imagine how much it galled the proud warrior to ask for help. He could not leave the Crossroads as there had been increased attacks by the Alliance on this important Horde outpost. “Yes Mankrik, I will aid you in this. I too have sen the depradations of these pig-men on my himeland.

“Thank you Hunter. Bring their tusks and we will create a trophy mound!”

Tahtonkah then travelled several days south along the Gold Road till he reached the area known as Agama’gor where this tribe of pig-men lived. He had been killing them for several days now and he had decided that he had enough of their tusks to make Mankrik a proud trophy mound. He reached the dry grasslands and started to head toward Camp Taurjo.
He had not travelled more than a few hours when he was brought up short. Before him, grazing on the tough grasses, was a huge kodo. Tahtonkah was trained as a skinner and a leatherworker as he had nimble fingers. What a hide that beast has he thought to himself. It would make many fine items. “Come Echeyakee, we have work to do”. He moved downwind to the beast and he and the cat approached as stealthily as possible. When Tahtonka felt they were in the perfect position, he turned to the cat “Echeyakee, we are up to this battle. Move to the beast’s side and I will take the front.” The big cat crept through the grass until it was close then it pounced, raking the might kodo with class. At the same moment, Tahtonkah opened fire with his rifle, pumping round after round into the beast. The kodo fought valiantly, stomping with its massive feet, smashing with its large head and neck.

It took some time but eventually they wore the beast down. With a loud groan, the magnificent kodo dropped to its knees, then fell over on its side. Tahtonkah approached the beast in awe, he had never seen such an example of kodo. “This one must be the Grandfather Kodo, Echeyakee” he said. He looked down at the cat and saw that it was battered and bruised. “Rest friend”, he said “while I tend to your wounds.”

Tahtonka, after treating Echeyakee’s wounds, went about the task of skinning the great kodo. It took several hours, but at last, the task was done. He was able to obtain several nice pieces of leather as well as some meat for several meals.
He knew no one would believe him about this creature so he decided to take one of its hooves back to Camp Taurajo to show them. Packing up everything he and his companion started their journey back across the Barrens to the Camp.
Upon arriving there late that evening, he found Jorn Skyseer still awake. In his excitement, he rushed up to the older Tauren to show him what he had done.

“That is good, young hunter. You have met the beast named Lakota’mani.” He gave Tahtonkah a knowing look and continued “Lakota'mani is called "Earthshaker" in our language, and his steps are like gathered thunder. He is with you now, and his courage mingles with yours. Together there is no conflict you cannot face. Walk tall, Tahtonkah. Walk tall, Earthshaker.”
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#57 Jun 23 2009 at 9:49 AM Rating: Excellent
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Missingnome

While riding through nagrand, Émber noticed a little green man on the side of the road (little, meaning not 5 times taller than himself like most) The man called him over and said "I'll tell you what, Émber if you gather a few items for me to make my Jump-a-tron 4000 functional, I'll give you a key that will let you operate the machine as well! What can you do with a Jump-a-tron 4000 you say? What can't you do is more like it"

Unable to avoid his curiosity about what this strange machine could do, Émber gathered the materials that Wazat requested and returned to him. Wazat started explaining how to use the machine while sitting Émber down on the platform. Émber, being exhausted from killing the air elementals, hardly listened to what the green man was saying. "But be careful! Bodily injury or serious permanent damage may occur from a bad jump" exclaims Wazak.

The little gnome woke up to find himself suspended in mid-air... suddenly he started falling extremely fast. He looked down and observed his landing spot, a birds nest. Without thinking Émber reached into his back pocket.."DAMN where did i put that feather?!" He landed on the nest injuring his leg severely. He looked down at the wound "How am i going to heal this....OH i know!" Émber conjured some bread and began chowing down, meantime the large gash in his leg stitched itself back together. Émber standed up to find that he was sitting on his goal, the large egg.

A loud screeching sound could be heard from miles away. Suddenly a gigantic bird that could easily swallow five or six gnomes at a time swooped down and snatched the little mage up. Émber was never seen again...
#58 Jun 24 2009 at 11:12 AM Rating: Excellent
Got yer stories in there now folks :)

http://wow.allakhazam.com/wiki/Category:Player_Written_Lore_(WoW)
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#59 Jun 24 2009 at 9:55 PM Rating: Good
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Glad to see people are keeping this going.
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Wow, you've got an awesome writing style.! I really dig the narrator's back story, humor, sarcasm, and the plethora of pop culture references. Altogether a refreshingly different RotR journal (not that I don't like the more traditional ones, mind you).

#60 Jun 25 2009 at 7:00 AM Rating: Decent
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#61 Jun 29 2009 at 6:27 PM Rating: Excellent
Although we typically only allow three stickies, I am inclined to allow 4 specifically for this idea.
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#65 Jul 09 2009 at 5:42 PM Rating: Excellent
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#66 Jul 16 2009 at 10:12 AM Rating: Excellent
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Just a little story to pass the time.

Quote:
Graduating with Honors
The smell of battle is something not everyone can stomach. The sweet smell of freshly oiled armor coupled with the earthy aroma of the mounts is the first thing you notice. Then your nostrils are assaulted by other subtle odors. Each drawn breath reveals more about the circumstances surrounding you. One can almost feel the perspiration that drips from the heavies as they draw a stone across their blades in final preparation. Next, as you walk past the magic wielders, you can feel your hair attempt to stand to attention as you walk through the wall of ozone that surrounds them. Past them you encounter a foul, almost hateful stench, and you know that the the warlock is bringing forth his own little hell on earth. No amount of spices, old or new, can overcome this. Finally, you come to a peculiar group, one that almost has no place in this circus. The healers stand a bit apart from the others, quietly saying their prayers. What you notice most is that the odors associated with them are different from the others. Here, only two things can be sensed, hope and fear. It is here I situated myself and began my earnest preparation for the oncoming battle.

"To Arathi!", the man had said, although now it escapes me what his reasons were. I merely followed as I always do. Blood was to be spilled, and I was intent on keeping it to a minimum. If the Horde wanted this land, that was reason enough to oppose them. So here we were... waiting for the sun to crest over the mountain to begin our battle for this ground... our preparations complete... just waiting for the horn to announce our assault...

A blare from a horn spurred all into action. In a flurry of hooves, the entire contingent sped toward the oncoming invaders. A small band of Horde was caught in a flash of steel and fire, the three fell before they could free their feet from their stirrups. Onward we rode, and came across another group who were dispatched with small effort. The smell of blood was now in the air, and it was not ours! Several horns sounded in the distance, and someone called out for an attack on the mine. We drove our horses down the path to the mine. This time we came across a larger force, nearly half our size. The heavies charged into their midst, slashing a gaping hole into their line. Magics were unleashed upon the right flank, cutting their number to half almost immediately. The horde healer was frantically attempting to keep her force alive, but the sheer numbers were working against her. Eventually, the Horde was vanquished and the mine was ours.

"Where now?" I wondered as we reveled in our victory, momentum was ours and we should use it to our advantage.
"To the farm!"
"No, the Blacksmith!"

A small discussion ensued before we eventually mounted up and headed toward the island. A small force was dispatched to the farm as well, we had received reports that the Horde had been sighted in nearly every area of the basin save the mine. With the aid of a Death Knight and a frozen lake, we engaged the Horde in a bold amphibious assault to their unsuspecting flank. We focused on their healers first, but at a cost. Our numbers were cut in half and the battle raged for some time before we could successfully raise the Alliance flag upon the island, but the deed was done. The force sent to the farm had encountered some resistance, so we headed there to bolster their efforts. With sheer numbers, we overwhelmed the Horde and reclaimed the farm and celebrated our victories.

We cheered our efforts as the sun began to hide behind the range of mountains to the west, the day was coming to an end. A messenger approached us with a thin smile veiling some other emotion. As I pondered the meaning to his mood, he began to talk, softly at first, then raising his voice to be heard over the incessant chatter.

"Congratulations" he started, "you won every skirmish, yet lost the battle." His smile was clear now, it was not of mirth but of disgust. The entire group went silent with dismay.

"But how could this be!" one bloodied combatant spoke up, "we encountered the enemy, and were victorious in battle!"

The messenger drove his steely gaze into the warrior for a second, and then strafed it across all as he continued. "You were outmaneuvered, the Horde kept you exactly where they wanted you, and in so doing, captured the day." As the messenger mercilessly meted out with his judgmental stare, our suddenly sullen group marched out of the basin. The smell of victory that I thought permeated our group revealed its true nature, that of fatigued dejection.

As we marched past the commanders at the basin entrance, I noticed one vendor motioning to me, it was Sam Hawke. He sold his wares to all as they entered the basin. Most disregard him as they enter, but I had struck up a conversation with him regarding his products prior to the day's events and he now seemed intent on continuing that conversation. He put his arm around my shoulders in an almost fatherly gesture.

"Trylofer..." his eyes met mine with compassion mixed with sorrow.
"Mr. Hawke," I replied.
"Trylofer...", he repeated, the clarity of his eyes revealed hope.
"Mr. Hawke?"
"Come with me", he began as he led me away from the others, "I would like to talk to you."
When we were out of earshot of the others, he continued, "I want to say one word to you, just... one word."
I turned to look directly upon him. "Yes, sir?"
"Are you listening?"
"Yes I am, sir." He held my eyes for only a second, yet it felt like an eternity. What he revealed to me in that one word would forever change my life in the basin. The clouds parted and the heavens sang that one word...
"Resources."
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#67 Jul 16 2009 at 4:28 PM Rating: Excellent
Added to the wiki :)

http://wow.allakhazam.com/wiki/Graduating_with_Honors_-_by_Trylofer_(WoW)
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#69 Jul 27 2009 at 7:06 AM Rating: Decent
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Very cool idea! Maybe it'd be nice to add a link of the quest on which the story is based in the respective wiki articles?
#70 Jul 28 2009 at 4:39 PM Rating: Excellent
That's certainly doable
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#71 Jul 31 2009 at 1:12 AM Rating: Excellent
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As part of my ongoing story efforts I've been meaning to write this for months. I give you:

Poldaran and the Judgement at the Eye of Eternity.

Is the Gratuitous Harry Potter style name necessary? No. But it's sterile and I like the way it tastes.

Quote:
The plan was a combination of simple elegance and amazing complexity. Malygos had retreated to a pocket dimension, a place where he controlled the flows of magic. They could not beat him there. He was in control. So the plan was to instead bring him out of it.

The simplicity of the plan was that all they had to do was bring him to the ground, where a hole Poldaran was working on opening would lie, ready to take him out of that dimension and into the normal world, with a bit of a fall waiting when he went through the hole.

The complexity of the plan stemmed from how they were to accomplish this. Each person had to play a role. Envinyata, Sharlot and Xelsia would be harassing him by buzzing around him and unleashing their most painful attacks, thus leaving Malygos susceptible to the chains that the others would try to bind him with. Envinyata and Nuna would ride the flying platforms that they had stolen from a storehouse nearby and use the shadow to sear Malygos while Sharlot and Xelsia would assume their Stormcrow forms and fire bolts of lightning at the Blue Aspect. Fennchurch, Nephelim, Raequann and Waste would all be throwing enchanted chains with grappling hooks at the dragon, attempting to tangle him up and bring him down.

Yoxutre had a more difficult job. He was to use the Spear of Hodir to chain himself to Malygos so that he could steer the dragon to the hole as it came down. He was to do this by hitting the beast as hard as he could with his mace in the direction he wanted it to go. When Poldaran had handed him the spear with a wicked smile on her face, he had groaned. Everyone had heard the story of how he had, under some strange influence of the spear, used it to bring down a Wild Wyrm in the Storm Peaks for no other reason than the challenge of it. Not one of his prouder moments. In fact, thinking back, he thought it was rather silly of him.

At first, things went exactly as Poldaran had said they would. Yoxutre was able to chain himself to the dragon, and due to the spear's magic, Malygos couldn't shake himself free. The ground team was able to easily get the chains hooked to Malygos, thanks to the air team's distractions. Unfortunately, Poldaran had forgotten to tell them that they needed to hook the chains to the ground near the hole she was opening so that the chains would direct Malygos into the opening.

So, as often happened when she forgot the details of a strategy for a fight, Poldaran was forced to improvise and shout somewhat panicked commands during battle. "HIT HIM WITH THE HAMMER TIL HE FALLS!" she shouted at Yoxutre. "START TARGETING THE WINGS!" she commanded the air team. "TRY TO GRAB THE CHAINS AND DRAG HIM DOWN!" she ordered the ground team.

Yoxutre laughed. "Alright," he said to himself. "'Hit him with the hammer' it is, then." He began pounding away at the spot between the dragon's wings with his mace. It was as good a spot as any to hit. He noticed that the others had begun concentrating their fire on the wings as instructed. After a while, Malygos began to fall.

Unfortunately, the ground crew had been unable to reach the chains, and the dragon was falling the wrong way... off the platform. "Crap!" Poldaran shouted out, unsure as to how to react. She began gathering her will to attempt to pull the falling dragon the way she wanted, but knew it wouldn't be enough.

"On it!" Envinyata shouted. The dwarf priestess guided her flying platform past the dragon at breakneck speed and performed a near instantaneous stop. She then flew full bore at the falling dragon and slammed into it with the platform's bottom, effectively kicking it upward and in the other direction. There was a slight miscalculation on the force of her kick, however, and the dragon was now on course to fall off the other side of the platform.

One of the Stormcrows screeched, and the other screeched back. They flew above the hole and waited until the flying dragon was in the perfect position. They then shapeshifted into massive Moonkins and sat on the dragon with a prejudice, thus correcting its course one last time in a general hole-ish direction. As they approached the dimensional hole in the platform, Yox wisely unchained himself and dove off.


A few moments later, they heard a dull thud as the dragon slammed into the icy ground below.


Edit: For those of you who may wonder, that's how a lot of our raids end up on the first try, me forgetting to mention a detail and then having to call out instructions in a bit of a panicked way while we inevitably wiped. Thankfully, in story, it's easy to have alternatives available that aren't regular gameplay mechanics.

Additionally, the whole plan makes sense in context as this is part of a larger story and they're trying to capture Malygos alive.

Edited, Jul 31st 2009 3:22am by Poldaran
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Someone on another forum wrote:
Wow, you've got an awesome writing style.! I really dig the narrator's back story, humor, sarcasm, and the plethora of pop culture references. Altogether a refreshingly different RotR journal (not that I don't like the more traditional ones, mind you).

#72 Jul 31 2009 at 7:30 PM Rating: Excellent
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Smiley: lol I loved the part about the spear, Poldaran.


I've just started leveling my Troll Hunter again, and I wrote this up to entertain my hubby at work today. He liked it, so I guess that means I get to go again, too. Smiley: tongue Quest is Trail of Fire.

Quote:
"So...there be our next target. And...one more?" Schen squinted, trying to make out the narrower figure kneeling in front of the armored human. She couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it didn't appear to be a healer so it should be all right. She'd take down the human Lieutenant first, and worry about any others after she was done. One or two more humans wouldn't add too much of a challenge anyway.

Patting her hound's shoulder to get the beast's attention, she pointed toward the human and nodded. With a joyous bark, Hawrt shot off through the camp, and Schen grinned as she watched her pet start tearing at the foe's legs. Of all the companions she'd had over the years, this scarlet hound was the first she's found whose thirst for blood matched her own. She waited until the human was sufficiently distracted, then stood and added her bullets to the fray.

The human didn't last long at all, quickly collapsing with a hoarse shout (for help? Schen had never understood the humans' language) that was cut short as Hawrt grasped its throat in her jaws and bit down, shaking her head back and forth until the body had stopped moving entirely. The hound worried at the body a little longer, but hopped away with a happy yip as her master approached, jumping up to lick the troll's face. "Get down, you!" Schen ordered, stifling a laugh. She's really just a big puppy... "You knock me over, how I gonna give you a treat for fighting so good?"

"Hey, troll! Over here!" The raspy voice identified the speaker as one of the Forsaken, but when Schen turned to look she saw nothing.

"No, down here. On the ground." The Forsaken sighed. He was tightly bound and lying on the ground in what had to be a most uncomfortable position. He was also, Schen noticed, wearing an apothecary's robe...one with large, bloody pawprints all over it. "Look, not that I don't appreciate your heroics--I was decidedly not looking forward to what these Alliance scumbags had in store for me--but this is a pretty poor rescue if you're not even going to untie me."

"Not here to rescue you, mon. Just killin' some humans."

The apothecary sighed. "Fine, I can make it out alone, just--"

"Hey now, I still gonna help you." She grinned and waved her skinning knife under what was left of his nose, her grin growing wider when he didn't so much as blink. "I love you zombies. Not afraid of anythin' and you all fight just as hard as I do. Now, hold still."

It took a little work to cut through the thick cords binding the Forsaken apothecary, but while they were perfect for keeping him from escaping on his own, they couldn't last too long against a good sharp knife, and he was soon up and stretching out his limbs with a series of disconcerting popping and snapping sounds.

"You ready?"

He cracked his knuckles one last time and nodded. "Indeed. Let's get out of here and see if we can get back at them somehow." He glanced around. "Is that a campfire over there?"

Schen laughed and began looking around for something to use as a torch. "I like how you think, zombie."

The apothecary would have been content merely to destroy the camp's food stores, but Schen managed to talk him into torching everything that could possibly be used against them--gunpowder, the tents, even the wooden barricade was soon in flames with the help of a few flasks of oil applied in just the right spot to get it started. It had been a few weeks since the Howling Fjord had seen rain and even heavy wood caught like paper. Even with the ocean so close, there was no way the humans would be able to put out all of the fires in time to save their supplies.

"Well, that," The Forsaken rubbed his hands together gleefully, "was most enjoyable. I think, though--" His words were cut off by a loud rumbling and the wooden wall in front of them exploded into dust and splinters, the force of the explosion knocking them back onto the ground.

Coughing as she rose, Schen finished his sentence. "It be time to get out of here for good."

He frowned. "I wasn't expecting them to start the bombardment so soon, but yes. We'll need to move quickly." Brushing sawdust off of his robe, he added, "I think I see a way through. Stay close to me."

The troll nodded, and hurried after him, keeping her eyes open for trouble.

A few humans did notice them and try to stop the pair, and one foolhardy gnome tried to attack Hawrt, but soon they were through the gap blown in the barricade and heading for the lines of Forsaken troops. A volley of fiery arrows whistled past them, a couple glancing off of Schen's mail and one lodging itself in her helmet. She sighed and pulled it out as she ran, tossing it aside to let it burn itself out in the muddy grass. "Call em off, mon? I'm not helpin' you just to be made a pincushion."

"Don't shoot! Apothecary coming through! Hold your fire!"

To Schen's surprise, it worked, and the Forsaken fighters parted to let the small party through as they approached. Then they were through,and a pair of healers appeared to show them back to the medics' tents set up behind the lines. Shaking them off--she'd rather rely on her natural regeneration than on Forsaken medical technology--the troll sighed and let herself relax. It had been a long day, and she couldn't wait to get back to the inn.

"Before you go--" It was the apothecary again, doing his best to thwart the herding instinct of the healers fussing over him. "I'm going to stick around here for a while, but you should talk to Apothecary Lysander when you get back to Vengeance Landing. He might be able to give you something for your trouble. Tell him you got Apothecary Hanes out of a bind and that I'll be back as soon as I cause a little more mayhem."

"I will indeed." She grinned, and waved as the two healers, fed up at last, picked him up and carried him toward the tents.

The last thing she heard as he was carried away was, "I have a wonderful idea for a new, weaponized..."

She'd have to come back later and ask him exactly what he was planning. It sounded like fun.


I <3 Undead so much. Smiley: grin
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#73 Jul 31 2009 at 9:19 PM Rating: Excellent
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Lady isyris wrote:
Smiley: lol I loved the part about the spear, Poldaran.


Yep. While I didn't want to write a section about that quest itself, I had to make a nod to the ridiculousness of it at some point.


My roommate(he plays the character Xelsia that is in that story segment) read this and told me that I should coin the name "Boomkin Bomb" for the epic maneuver the two druids perform and use it again in the stories. Smiley: laugh
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Someone on another forum wrote:
Wow, you've got an awesome writing style.! I really dig the narrator's back story, humor, sarcasm, and the plethora of pop culture references. Altogether a refreshingly different RotR journal (not that I don't like the more traditional ones, mind you).

#74 Aug 13 2009 at 7:06 AM Rating: Good
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Quote:
Yep. While I didn't want to write a section about that quest itself, I had to make a nod to the ridiculousness of it at some point.


That's ok, I already had the ridiculous spear quest covered in my story.
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for the
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╠╣║║║╠╣║║║ ╠╝
║║╚╚║║║║║╚═╚═

(stolen from Kelnoen)
#75 Aug 14 2009 at 11:15 AM Rating: Excellent
Got both of those added in folks :)
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#77 Aug 26 2009 at 1:31 PM Rating: Good
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I gotta say ladies and gents, these are really good!!

And only if blizzard took the time to make the actual quest lines this good, I'd play a lot more....A ton more. I think Blizz needs to hire all of you to write there quest chains.
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#78 Sep 08 2009 at 10:23 AM Rating: Decent
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I am working on the first three chapters of my character's story (4 & 5 were posted above somewheres). And I am a bit stuck on something. What would be a good word to use for 'lesbian' (or even homosexual in general) in the context of WoW. Obviously, since both 'lesbianism' and 'sapphism' derive from ancient Greece, these words would not have come about in Azeroth. The best I've come up with is 'strange' but that's really more of a placeholder.

My story is written as basically my character's journal (or diary). Here is the passage in question, where my character is coming to terms with her sexuality :

Quote:
Later that night, I pondered and I eventually came to a conclusion: I was what most people politely called 'strange'. As I thought back, I realized that the real reason I had seldom dated was because I hadn't wanted to. I never had really been attracted to boys. And, too, I always had been what they called a 'tomboy' when I was younger, preferring 'boyish' activities over dolls and dresses.


Any help would be appriciated.

Thanks.

Edited, Sep 8th 2009 2:24pm by ShadorVIII
#79 Sep 09 2009 at 4:25 AM Rating: Good
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The One and Only ShadorVIII wrote:
I am working on the first three chapters of my character's story (4 & 5 were posted above somewheres). And I am a bit stuck on something. What would be a good word to use for 'lesbian' (or even homosexual in general) in the context of WoW. Obviously, since both 'lesbianism' and 'sapphism' derive from ancient Greece, these words would not have come about in Azeroth. The best I've come up with is 'strange' but that's really more of a placeholder.

My story is written as basically my character's journal (or diary). Here is the passage in question, where my character is coming to terms with her sexuality :

Quote:
Later that night, I pondered and I eventually came to a conclusion: I was what most people politely called 'strange'. As I thought back, I realized that the real reason I had seldom dated was because I hadn't wanted to. I never had really been attracted to boys. And, too, I always had been what they called a 'tomboy' when I was younger, preferring 'boyish' activities over dolls and dresses.


Any help would be appriciated.

Thanks.


Remember that WoW is set in an often a comic and silly universe, as such, some things you don't need to justify. Hell, I'm writing in a future story that reading stories produced in a "fantastic new writing style called Manga" about many things, including "an amazing fictional world called Japan" has become a pastime popular among the citizenry of Dalaran(it becomes a bit of a plot point, trust me it'll be better than it sounds).


Use the word "lesbian". If you have to, justify why the word is used as it being a reference to an ancient piece of literature available in the WoW universe. You really don't need to, however, as 99/100 of your audience won't even bother to wonder why a particular word they use often is used in a WoW based story.


Edited, Sep 9th 2009 6:31am by Poldaran
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Someone on another forum wrote:
Wow, you've got an awesome writing style.! I really dig the narrator's back story, humor, sarcasm, and the plethora of pop culture references. Altogether a refreshingly different RotR journal (not that I don't like the more traditional ones, mind you).

#80 Sep 09 2009 at 5:59 AM Rating: Decent
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The One and Only Poldaran wrote:
The One and Only ShadorVIII wrote:
I am working on the first three chapters of my character's story (4 & 5 were posted above somewheres). And I am a bit stuck on something. What would be a good word to use for 'lesbian' (or even homosexual in general) in the context of WoW. Obviously, since both 'lesbianism' and 'sapphism' derive from ancient Greece, these words would not have come about in Azeroth. The best I've come up with is 'strange' but that's really more of a placeholder.

My story is written as basically my character's journal (or diary). Here is the passage in question, where my character is coming to terms with her sexuality :

Quote:
Later that night, I pondered and I eventually came to a conclusion: I was what most people politely called 'strange'. As I thought back, I realized that the real reason I had seldom dated was because I hadn't wanted to. I never had really been attracted to boys. And, too, I always had been what they called a 'tomboy' when I was younger, preferring 'boyish' activities over dolls and dresses.


Any help would be appriciated.

Thanks.


Remember that WoW is set in an often a comic and silly universe, as such, some things you don't need to justify. Hell, I'm writing in a future story that reading stories produced in a "fantastic new writing style called Manga" about many things, including "an amazing fictional world called Japan" has become a pastime popular among the citizenry of Dalaran(it becomes a bit of a plot point, trust me it'll be better than it sounds).


Use the word "lesbian". If you have to, justify why the word is used as it being a reference to an ancient piece of literature available in the WoW universe. You really don't need to, however, as 99/100 of your audience won't even bother to wonder why a particular word they use often is used in a WoW based story.


Edited, Sep 9th 2009 6:31am by Poldaran


Yea. I think I will. Upon looking at the timelines and things over the past day or two, I have come to realize that a couple of things that are major plot points in my story (such as my character's best friend/lover being half-elven) are going to take a major sh*t on established lore anyway. It would be my guess that that same 99/100 WoW players don't even know the lore anyway.
#82 Sep 17 2009 at 8:12 PM Rating: Excellent
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Well, I was bored today, so I wrote a story. I ended up scrapping the other one, or at least postponing it until a later date. This is just a vent for my frustration against Goldsellers, and why I wish Mind Control were usable on members of your faction.

Linky.

Edited, Nov 12th 2009 8:56pm by IDrownFish
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#83 Sep 17 2009 at 9:37 PM Rating: Excellent
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That was pretty funny, IDrownFish.
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Someone on another forum wrote:
Wow, you've got an awesome writing style.! I really dig the narrator's back story, humor, sarcasm, and the plethora of pop culture references. Altogether a refreshingly different RotR journal (not that I don't like the more traditional ones, mind you).

#84 Sep 18 2009 at 6:34 PM Rating: Excellent
ok points for that, that was great. lol
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#86 Oct 07 2009 at 1:23 AM Rating: Default
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Wanted: "Hogger"

weeeee ^^
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#87 Oct 08 2009 at 7:51 AM Rating: Excellent
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IDrownFish wrote:
why I wish Mind Control were usable of members of your faction.


Hahaha. That was awesome. Well done!
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#89 Nov 17 2009 at 1:18 AM Rating: Decent
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the one that i really never forget is the quest the i get in Mid of Shat'rath that i need to follow a NPC telling the story of Shat'rath. We walks around the Shat and telling stories and you can't even type /follow and leave the keyboard or surf net. And that is my favorite quest since i can't forget it!
#90 Nov 17 2009 at 5:46 AM Rating: Excellent
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Something tells me many people are replying without even reading the OP. Smiley: tongue
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Someone on another forum wrote:
Wow, you've got an awesome writing style.! I really dig the narrator's back story, humor, sarcasm, and the plethora of pop culture references. Altogether a refreshingly different RotR journal (not that I don't like the more traditional ones, mind you).

#91 Nov 20 2009 at 11:02 AM Rating: Good
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I have a relatively lengthy piece I wrote a few months back...what's too long to post here? I may try to find some place to host it if necessary. But hey, I'm willing to share it one way or the other...
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#92 Nov 20 2009 at 11:25 PM Rating: Excellent
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I don't remember the max post length off the top of my head. If you can't find a place to post it, you're welcome to post it in my journal and link it here. Just start a new thread there and split it over a couple posts. Alternatively, you can post it there and ask someone to wikify it for you(or learn to wiki yourself), then post the wiki link.
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Someone on another forum wrote:
Wow, you've got an awesome writing style.! I really dig the narrator's back story, humor, sarcasm, and the plethora of pop culture references. Altogether a refreshingly different RotR journal (not that I don't like the more traditional ones, mind you).

#93 Nov 21 2009 at 10:51 AM Rating: Excellent
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I'll do that. I want to give the story a once over to clear up some subject/predicate agreement issues, and some occasional shifts in tense that aren't quite kosher. Once I think it's worth a public read,I'll get it up there. It's not so much a 'my favourite quest' story, but it works in references to a number of quests, and I'm reasonably proud of the piece...
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#94 Nov 22 2009 at 1:59 AM Rating: Excellent
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TwoFiveZeroOne wrote:
It's not so much a 'my favourite quest' story, but it works in references to a number of quests, and I'm reasonably proud of the piece...


Sounds close enough for me. I'm looking forward to reading it.
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Someone on another forum wrote:
Wow, you've got an awesome writing style.! I really dig the narrator's back story, humor, sarcasm, and the plethora of pop culture references. Altogether a refreshingly different RotR journal (not that I don't like the more traditional ones, mind you).

#95 Nov 29 2009 at 4:04 PM Rating: Excellent
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OK, I'm going to break this up as I broke it up when writing it. Assuming that this all works, it should take 2 or 3 parts in total...

Some notes: the four main characters that are in this story were all former guildmates of mine. Two of the three are still friends, and one is my girlfriend. The interaction in the story is fairly similar to how all of us used to get on in game, so hopefully some of that explains the level of familiarity. Characterisations have been somewhat exaggerated for entertainment value.

Quote:
Proof of Demise: Cyanigosa and the Violet Hold
Part 1 of 2


He moved slowly out of Sindragosa’s Fall, through the lonely graveyard where once, he thinks, he might have helped a fallen Crusader touched with the curse of the scourge. Those memories are distant now, yet he was sure with some effort he could pull them forth. He moved onward, each step deliberate and heavy. Ahead was his goal; the newly established tournament grounds for the Argent Crusade, built to spite the former future king of Lordaeron, Arthas Menethil, now known to most simply as the Lich King.

As he came upon the tournament field he looked about, scanning the throngs for familiar faces. The gathered revelers part nervously as he walked through their midst. From a distance, he seemed encased in blackened saronite and titansteel, but a closer look showed that his armour, battered and bent but not broken, was not blackened with the patina of time, but rather the drying blood of the fallen. Strapped across his back are two massive weapons, sword and mace. Either would require two hands for most to wield, and for some, the thought of a man built such as this one bearing both weapons to bear in combat is enough to cause a shudder. The dead glow in his eyes was yet another reason to turn away in fear; it was not the glow of the magic addicted, nor the bluish glow of those recently released from the Lich King’s embrace, but the cold glow of the long dead.

“What took you so long, fool?”

He turned to see his companion Levious Chillbane leaning against a tent post. With a single finger he idly crafted balls of frozen ice and snow and flicked them toward the unsuspecting and unaware denizens of Ironforge and Stormwind, haughtily chatting amongst themselves about…something. He thought if he tried hard enough he could remember what those words mean, but like so much else, that knowledge was lost in a haze that seems impenetrable.

“I was…distracted,” he replied. “A most interesting distraction. In Wintergrasp…”

Levious’ eyes glow brighter for a moment.

“Oh?” he replied, his question as cold as the air that surrounded them. “Do tell…”

“We hold the fortress…for now,” the armour clad man said in reply, his simple words steeped in meaning. “It was a glorious battle…a shame you were not among us. I must have had a hand in the deaths of nearly 200 of their number. The final push, as our siege engines pressed through to the central keep…such blood and thunder. We were outnumbered, yet we pressed on, tanking no quarter. There at the end, I felt as if I had the strength of 3 or four in me, barely held back. I strode among those pitiful ones, my sword and mace hewing limb and crushing bone. I…”

A cold chuckle broke his monologue. “That does not explain the rather…desperate…condition of your armour, friend.”

“I did say we were outnumbered,” he replied coldly, with obvious strain in his voice. “Very near the end, I found myself facing a half dozen or more of their number. It is the only way they seem to be able to fight, as certainly one on one a fight would be far from fair. They thought they felled me…I simply laid there as they patted each other on the back in celebration of the greatness of their feat.”

“What then?”

He laughed. “Someone wearing the robes of a spell user came along and coaxed forth some incantation. He blinked about several times as spheres of arcane power exploded amongst them. When I stood up all I saw were the blackened bodies of my opponents, with that spell user grinning over their corpses.”

“You are right…it is a shame I missed the festivities. Still,” Levious continued, “there will be other battles, and other opportunities to prove my mettle on the fields of battle. This is not that time however…and that is why I called for you.”

“Go on.”

The mage handed the armoured warrior a rolled up piece of parchment. “Now, I know the words on there may be a bit big for you, so I could explain it to you if you…”

A steely glare cut his jab short. “Do not mock me, friend. I have forgotten more than you could possibly remember in that worm eaten brain of yours.” The people within earshot stopped for a moment, looking over at the two men, fearing for what might happen if they decided to square off in order to correct some insult, real or imagined. A harsh chuckle from the armoured man cuts the tension, if only slightly, as the mage smiles. The smile was not a comforting one.

He looks down at the floridly written scroll:

“We're being invaded! The blue dragonflight has teleported into the Violet Hold and they're planning on breaking out from there into the rest of Dalaran!

There have already been reports of prisoners inadvertently being freed by their actions. It wouldn't surprise me if they're purposefully letting some of them free.

Levious Chillbane, can you assemble your team quickly and get in there? Cyanigosa is the leader of their invasion force. Bring me her head!”

As he read the scroll, he saw the script shift slightly as Levious’ name quickly changed to his own.

“Is this the task you have summoned me here for? Curse you, man! What need have I for such a piffling task?”

“Oh? And what else would you be doing? Gathering sticks and stones for those two idiot goblins standing outside this excuse of a coliseum? Traipsing down to the steps of the Citadel itself, only to jump on some…horse?…to run down some gargoyles and death knight recruits? What purpose does any of that have?”

The armoured man opened his mouth to speak. “I…”

“Ahh! Crusader Boneblade! How good it is of you to come back here this day. We have a new batch of aspirants here that could certainly benefit from a lesson from one as exalted as thee! Could you spare a moment to come over? I am sure your demonstration would be inspiring for the young ones. I know the champions have been itching for a bit of sport…perhaps you could challenge a few of them. For the benefit of the aspirants, of course…”

“Perhaps later, Eiden. My friend here has asked a great service of me, which I must attend to immediately lest the weight of ages crush his fragile frame. I will be happy to aid you as soon as I am finished with this labour, however.”

“Splendid! Come find me once you are finished. I am certain I could make it worth your while, Crusader!”

The magister reached out and grasped Boneblade’s hand, wincing slightly at the chill he felt…a chill that came as much from the cold of undeath as it did from the icy rime that encased the blackened plate gauntlets that shielded his cracked hands. He watched as the elf quickly turned and ran back to Sunreaver Pavilion to pass along the news that a teacher had been found for the newly recruited aspirants. Boneblade then turned to smile at his friend, the mage.

“That is why I do it.”

“I…”

“DAMNABLE VRYKUL SCUM! DAMNABLE JEWELCRAFTER’S GUILD!”

Both men turned to watch as a black haired elf came storming up the hill into the tournament grounds. An imp, smaller than any gnome or goblin, struggled to keep up as she pushed her way through the crowd roughly, eliciting the occasional grunt or muttered “Excuse me!” from those unlucky enough to be in her way. She pressed past the two men, muttering under her breath, before noticing their presence. Angrily she turned to face them, her eyes green with rage and barely suppressed magicks.

“It’s simple, they tell me. They have contracts with some wealthy Undermine jewelry cartel, and they want a shipment of Blood Jade amulets. Simple, I say. I have loads of jade and bloodstone, I can make a mint off this. But no, they only want one from me. Wouldn’t be fair to the other jewelcrafters if I made all of them. Where’s their sense of open, free markets, hmm? OK, fine. I’ll make them one damned blood jade amulet. I get the bloodstone, I get the jade, isn’t that enough. NO!”

She grabbed her dagger and tossed it angrily into the ice-covered ground at their feet. Arcs of magic jumped from the dagger to the ground.

“No, it’s not enough. It’s never enough for those bastards in Dalaran. No, the stones have to be fitted over some poorly crafted excuse of a fitting from those giants down there.” She pointed roughly southwest, toward Ymirheim. “Old’s the new new, they say. Everyone loves the rustic look of those vrykul fittings. Had I made anything so horrific…so juvenile…when I was just starting out, I’d have been laughed out of my apprenticeship, but who am I to argue? It’s gold, after all, and you can never have enough of that. Am I right, Levious?”

He looked at the ground, his dried lips moving as he muttered.

“They could have told me that maybe one out of every 50 of those damned grunting behemoths down there had one!”

Boneblade chuckled roughly, but his mirth was cut short as the elf came over and roughly ripped the helm from his head. “Careful, Elf!” he spoke in a quiet, but forceful, monotone.

“Careful nothing!” she spat. “And where were you through all of this, hmm? You said you’d help me with stuff like this. Imagine how much easier this would have been if you were there…I could have just picked through the corpses until I found what I needed. Instead I had to stop to recharge my energies.”

She paused as Boneblade turned to Levious and shrugged his shoulders.

“TWICE!”

Boneblade turned to face the elf and slowly dropped to one knee before her. “Milady Saphryagrim, I fear I have done you a grave disservice, and I wish to atone for my grievous shortcomings. Come, I shall escort you back to Ymirheim, where I will lay before you a pile of corpses from which you might find your trinket.”

She practically spat as she thrust some ill-designed piece of metal at him.

“I GOT THE DAMNED THING ALREADY!”

He sighed as Saphryagrim roughly pushed the thing back into one of the packs strapped across the black flanks of her demon steed. “Did you tell her about this task you wish us to partake in?”

“Oh, yeah,” Levious replied. “She accepted it. Sometimes I think all you have to do is wave a pouch of gold in her direction and she’d be all over it like…”

He paused as he heard Saphryagrim clear her throat.

“So yeah, she accepted it. Now, what about you? We could use your…ahem…specialities…”

“You want me to stand there and get beat on.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?” Boneblade replied coldly.

“No. It’s just, well…”

“Yes?”

Saphryagrim interrupted. “It’s just, you have this ability to make the beasts so angry at you…”

“Mmm hmm…”

“And, well…You have all this big, heavy metal armour…”

Boneblade nodded silently.

“And you must be ever so strong to wear it all the time. Such big muscles…I…” She reached out and began to trace the lines and curves of his armour, a slight flush rising in her alabaster cheeks.

“That’s unnatural.”

Boneblade turned his head to face Levious, who was looking at the other two with thinly veiled disgust. “So’s shagging sheep, but no one says anything when the dwarves tumble out of their pavilion, blind roaring drunk on ale, for a little fun time with their mounts…”

“Good point,” Levious replied. “That reminds me…want to know what I slipped into their kegs this week?”

“Not really.”

The mage snorted. “You never want to join in my fun.”

Boneblade sighed. “So, you want me to stand there and get beat on. What’s in it for me?”

“The satisfaction of a job well done?”

“Nope,” replied the warrior. “Not good enough.”

“The acclaim that comes with saving the wonderful mage-city of Dalaran from the evil clutches of the blue dragon Cyanigosa?”

“Did that already.”

Levious’ mouth opened. “You what?”

“Oh yeah, it was fun. Me and my Future Self, and my Past Self…good times…”

The mage tried to scowl, but poor muscle memory caused him to fail in the attempt. “OK, how about fame and fortune?”

“What kind of fortune are we talking about?”

“A bag of gold, and some writs you can turn in to the quartermasters in the city celebrating your heroism. If we succeed.”

The warrior paused in thought. “Who else we got?”

Levious smiled. “Well, we have the druid healing us.”

“Which one?”

Saphryagrim laughed. “We can’t say his name here. The ninnies from the Crusade get upset when we utter his name. Something about how it refers to a body part best left private. Must offend their poor, sanctimonious ears.”

“I think you mean sanctified.”

The elf waved a hand, dismissing his retort. “Same thing.”

“Who else?”

“Not sure,” Levious said. “We’ll just get one of them to help out.” He pointed over toward a group of nearly identical armoured fighters, eyes glowing blue. Their weapons gleamed black with faintly etched runes inscribed down their length. Straining, Boneblade could hear them bemoaning their fate…once free men and women, killed by the plague, raised to live in undeath, then killed mercilessly in one of the battles against the scourge. They were then raised yet again by the power of Arthas Menethil and his associates to fight at his side, only to be released again into a sort of half life that found them hated and feared by their former brothers and sisters, and hunted by their former taskmasters.

“Which one?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Levious said dismissively as he pushed himself off the tent pole he had been leaning on. “One’s the same as another. Besides, with the four of us, we could probably bring your baby brother in there with us and still succeed.”

“I…don’t have a baby brother,” Boneblade replied, a bit of confusion in his voice.

“Exactly,” said Saphryagrim, patting him on his shoulder. “What do you say we get you out of his icky, nasty armour and into something more…appropriate?”

“What? Right here?”

“Yes, silly.” Saphryagrim smiled. “Unless you are suggesting you want to get beaten on without a shield.”

Boneblade paused for a moment before replying. “Oh. Yes. Of course. I’ll just…”

He pointed over toward a small clustering of buildings.

“I’ll be over there. Changing. Yes, I’ll just go and…”

“Here.” Saphryagrim offered up the reins of his skeletal steed, which he took with grateful silence. “Go change out your gear. We’ll wait here. And when you get back…”

She whistled, and a red drake came soaring from one of the mountains overlooking the tournament grounds. It landed right behind her, and she strode over, leaping up astride the beast’s neck.

“And when you get back, we’ll show those mages in Dalaran how it’s done!”



Edited, Nov 29th 2009 5:10pm by TwoFiveZeroOne
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#96 Nov 29 2009 at 4:07 PM Rating: Excellent
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139 posts
As before, breaking this up into 2 parts in total (looks like it'll post in 2 parts)...

Some notes: the four main characters that are in this story were all former guildmates of mine. Two of the three are still friends, and one is my girlfriend. The interaction in the story is fairly similar to how all of us used to get on in game, so hopefully some of that explains the level of familiarity. Characterisations have been somewhat exaggerated for entertainment value.



Quote:
Proof of Demise: Cyanigosa and the Violet Hold
Part 2 of 2



The inn didn’t have a name as such, but the dank, musty air suited Boneblade just fine. Combined with the humid atmosphere and ambience of the Underbelly, this inn was a place he spent much of his down time, seated back in a corner watching the scum of Dalaran belly up for cheap drinks and tidbits of information about the comings and goings of the underground.

“We could have had a fine meal at the Legerdemain Lounge, you know,” said Saphryagrim with a huff. “Or even roast meat and wine at that Filthy Animal place. Why did we have to come here?”

“Oh, I think the answer to that is obvious,” said Levious Chillbane. “It’s not like we can have him out in the open right now, can we?” He pointed over to the tauren druid, placid now. Earlier he had been raving about strange beings swathed in blue garments, soaring above the crowd. The tauren became panicked, yelling “They’re gonna make me change my name! They’re gonna make me change my name!” before the blood elf and her undead travelling companions were able to subdue him and drag him down into the Underbelly. “He starts acting up up there,” continued Levious, pointing upward toward the sky-side of Dalaran, “we’re all going to get tossed out of this city pretty damned quick…and I don’t know about you, but last I looked, out only offers a pretty significant drop down.”

“That’s just great,” muttered Saphryagrim. “We came here to kill a dragon, and instead our steak on two legs there gets hopped up on some mix of herbs and potions from the alchemy trainer, and we’re stuck paying for stew that we had to bring to the innkeeper ourselves! How idiotic is that?”

Boneblade shrugged, metal rubbing against the bare bones of his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll wait till the potions take effect, and he’ll calm down. That gives us time for our friend over there to finish his monologue of woe and despair before we finish the task at hand.” He pointed across the inn to the fifth member of their party. While his features were easily recognisable as one of the sin’dorei, his eyes had the cold blue glow of the scourge. Now redeemed, the death knight fought among his fellow horde once again, while still being held at arms’ reach most of the time. This was due less to fear of betrayal and more to the fact that he had a somewhat morose outlook on life…or unlife…or whatever type of existence he now held.

“Oh, to feel the warmth of the air on my face again. A shame, then, that my life is filled with such woe. I know far too keenly the sting of death’s kiss, yet I continue on, cleaving my way through whatever evil stands before me. Yet, might they too feel as I do? Oh, the oppressive darkness of it all! I…”

“I just wish he’d shut up,” Boneblade muttered. “You don’t hear me complaining about ‘the tortures of the damned!’ or whatever he’s on about this week. Someone shoves a sword through me, I laugh and hit him with my shield. He gets a paper cut and it’s a 25-minute monologue about the pain of life. Why did we have to bring him anyway?”

It was Levious’ turn to shrug. “Didn’t have much choice. Most of our regulars are still lost in Wintergrasp somewhere…or up near Hrothgar’s Landing, helping the Crusade clear out those stinking sea vrykul that are invading.”

“Don’t remind me,” said Boneblade with a hint of frustration in his voice. “I could be there too, you know. Instead I’m babysitting a tripping tauren and almost ready to shove those wine corks in what remains of my ears.”

“Wha…where am I?” A deep voice, clouded with confusion and more than a touch of medicated haze, quietly rumbled froth from the slumped tauren. “What happened up there?”

“Nothing, friend!” said Levious with forced cheer in his voice as he slapped the druid across one huge shoulder. “Nothing at all! ‘Twas fatigue that felled you! We brought you here to rest and recover your strength before we faced our greatest challenge…slaying the evil dragon queen Cyanigosa and returning her head to the archmage Lan’dalock.”

“Oh, all right,” said the druid, standing and stretching carefully lest his horns became lodged in the low wooden ceiling above. “I had the strangest dreams then,” he said. “I dreamt…”

“No need to worry about that!” interjected Saphryagrim far too quickly. “I’m just glad you’re…feeling better?”

“Yes, much better, thank you.”

Boneblade stood as well, bending over creakily to grab the shield he had balanced against the back of his chair. “Then we’re prepared. I’ve been listening to the rumblings about this place we are going to…this Violet Hold. When those two haven’t overpowered the regulars…”

He pointed to two roughly garbed individuals, one elven, the other draenei, arguing with each other.

“Look at us, elf,” bemoaned the draenei. “Look at us. Unemployed, destitute, and drinking swill from an establishment in the sewers named after a carrion bird!”

“Disgusting, I agree,” replied the male elf.

“…Anyway, when those two and their bickering hasn’t overpowered the regulars, this is what I have been able to glean. Cyanigosa and her associates have teleported into the Hold, which is some kind of magical prison for the most wretched of scum and evil. They’re releasing these captives, trying to overwhelm the gaolers within. We’re going to go in there and hold them back as long as possible in the hopes that the leader herself will finally face us to ensure her mission is successful. We then turn all our efforts to her, and then…”

“Between my icebolts, her rain of fire, and his…erm…soliloquy of despair, we’ll be successful, and fortune will be ours!”

The black armoured elf took notice of his companions’ actions, and stood with a sigh. Slowly lifting his helm from the table, he slouched over to the group. “I suppose we’re ready now,” he said, his voice a miasma of sorrow and despair. “It’s just as well. I was feeling particularly depressed over there, and some action will stave off the impending crush as the weight of the world bears down upon my tortured existence.”

“Wow, Bone,” said Saphryagrim, with more than a touch of surprise in her voice. “He sounds more morose than you.”

“Yes, well…”

He paused, his words trailing off to silence. “Are we going to get this done or not?” He strapped his shield to his left arm as the others nodded. The inn’s patrons watched nervously as the blood elf summoned forth a daemon from the nether to stand at her side, while the mage conjured icy armour to protect his otherwise fragile frame. The five travelers slowly made their way through the rest of the inn, following a pipe that led gradually upward into the city proper. The two elves and the tauren shielded their eyes against the sudden brightness, while Boneblade and Levious just stood there, unblinking. Taking stock one last time to ensure they were prepared for their mission, they strode with purpose through the crowds, noting that shouts and screams of panic became more audible as they stepped close to the Violet Hold.

A winded battle mage stood gasping for breath as he rested against the massive stone archway that held the door to the Hold. His robes and armour were ripped asunder in several places, with blood still seeping from gashes and cuts inflicted by the creatures within. He looked up at the party, shaking his head wildly.

“Do not worry about me…I will be fine. But please…hasten yourselves and get inside! Lieutenant Sinclari awaits you inside…I do not know how much longer she’ll be able to hold out! Please…for her sake, and for the city of Dalaran…help us!”

The tauren druid knelt before the mage, concern in his eyes. He muttered something, and as he did so, a brief wave of greenish energy arose from his hands. He guided them over the battle mage’s body, and his wounds began to knit themselves together. “It is not much, but it is enough. Get yourself to your barracks, and make haste. We’ll make sure that your fight was not in vain.” Standing again, he looked down upon his companions. “He needed my help…he’d not survive long enough for the nurses to find him. Now he has a chance to survive and fight another day. Let’s make sure that his efforts weren’t for naught.”

Boneblade nodded, placing his helm upon his head. He unsheathed his trusted sword and gazed at it for a moment, remembering how he wrenched it from the cold, dead hands of the vrykul king in the Fjord…how it had been his most faithful companion as he traveled the wilderness alone for so long. Now he had these others at his side, others he trusted nearly as much as his sword. He reached for the door handle, paused, and turned to his companions.

“And I beheld, and lo a pale horse; and he that sat on him was called Death, and Hell followed with him,” he said quietly.

“Boneblade…none of us are riding horses,” said Saphryagrim, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

“No, we’re not,” replied Boneblade, his voice unusually bright. “But we’re going to be death to those in there. Let’s send them to hell.”

~~~~~~~~~~/////||\\\\\~~~~~~~~~~

Upon opening the door, the party of five’s senses was immediately assaulted. There was the dank stench they had smelt in so many dungeons and prisons before. Flickering lights illuminated the walls slightly, but what struck them most were the screams. Those of the gaolers were most easily recognisable; they’d heard the same so many times before, either on the fields of battle or in small towns as they were overrun by creatures from the hills, or more rarely the forces of humans and dwarves trying to assert dominion where none was desired. Above those screams, however, were ones far more disturbing. Some came from lizard like throats, hissing and sibilant. Others seemed to come from throats as far from natural as possible. Boneblade watched as Saphryagrim and the tauren both shuddered perceptibly.

“Too late to turn back now,” Boneblade said quietly. “One the sword has been unsheathed, it cannot be returned until it tastes blood. It is the way of the warrior.” He nodded toward a woman standing several yards before them, barking out orders in brief respites between waves of dragonkin. “One of you talk to her…have her get her forces out of here. They’re no match for what is about to come. I’m not even sure we can handle it…but if they can retreat, perhaps they can find a stronger point to defend.”

The other four moved as one to Lieutenant Sinclari’s side. Levious Chillbane and Saphryagrim both offered up words of comfort and assurance to her, while the druid quietly went to work trying to bring succor and comfort to the wounded. Moments later the injured were evacuated out, and the remaining forces began a gradual retreat toward the doors.

“We beat back one wave and another comes, just as strong as the last. We’ve got enough magic to seal off the doors for a bit…but I don’t know how long you’ve got. If you make it out of there alive, I’ll see you in the city! If not, well…”

She paused, a look of quiet acceptance on her face.

“If not, well, I’ll see you anyway…it just won’t be there,” she continued, pointing out the door to the city the five had offered to protect. She bolted through the door, and it closed heavily, shaking the floors as its weight crashed against the stone walls. The screams suddenly fell silent and the group looked about nervously. Light filtered down from the glass dome far above, bathing the room in washes of dark azure and crimson. Boneblade strode forth in front of his companions, his sword lightly held on his right hand.

“I don’t like this silence. Something is about to happen…I just don’t know wha…”

“THERE!” yelled the undead mage. “A PORTAL! TO THE RIGHT!”

Boneblade charged forward toward the magickal portal which had appeared to their right, arriving in time to intercept a massive blue dragonkin. His sword struck true, attracting the beast’s attention as it opened a slight hole in the beast’s scaly defenses. Immediately his friends joined the attack, as a rain of fire joined with bolts of ice from the fingers of his mage and warlock companions. Searing pain alternated with waves of energy healing his wounds almost as quickly as he took them. To his left the black armoured knight was a whirlwind of death, his massive two-handed sword rending the beast mortally. In moments the battle was over, and…

“ANOTHER ONE, TO THE LEFT!”

This time it was the warlock’s eyes that caught the flickering of magic, as another portal opened. It was atop a broken causeway, and as Boneblade ran toward it, a group of dragonkin stepped forth from a place beyond the portal. Two immediately charged toward him, while two more tried to follow a second path toward the sealed portal to the city. Without thinking Boneblade tossed his sword toward one of the sneaking ones, yelling to attract their attention. They converged at the base of the causeway, whereupon the warrior wrenched his sword from the side of one incensed beast.

Calling upon his training he slammed sword and shield upon the floor, creating a burst of energy that momentarily overwhelmed the warriors of the blue dragonflight. It was enough time for the others to get within range so their spells could aid in dropping the creatures. So it went for what seemed like hours as the five ran from one side of the prison to the other, chasing opening portals and defeating wave after wave of blue dragonkin. The stench of blood was thick in the air, and he knew that it was strong enough for the elves and tauren to taste it in their mouths.

As the final beast from one portal fell, a hush fell over the group, broken only by their rasping breaths.

“Something’s coming, isn’t it?”

The warlock looked over at Boneblade, nodding slightly. “Yes…but it’s not the dragon. She won’t let us off that easily. She’ll want us weaker…more fatigued. She’s not going to want to risk facing us until we’re struggling.”

Levious nodded in agreement. “She’s right. When the beast finally comes, she’ll want to make sure she can finish us off quickly. This battle is far from over.”

At that moment the faint projection of a dragonkin flickered among them. Without thought Boneblade swung, but his sword sliced through the thing’s astral form without leaving a mark. It made its way over toward a gate, opaque swirls of magic obscuring whatever prisoner was held within. Boneblade steeled himself as the portal fell, but was caught off guard as a familiar voice was heard.

“Back in business! Now to execute an exit strategy.”

Boneblade looked on in shock as Trade-Prince Xevozz strode purposefully from his cell. The ethereal stretched his arms before noticing that he was not alone.

“Ahh, dear friends…such a pity that we must meet in such a manner. The balance sheet, however, shows this meeting to be strongly in my favour. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do believe it’s time for me to purchase my freedom…with your blood, of course…”

Without warning he bolted toward Boneblade, who only had enough time to bring up his shield before blasts of arcane energy buffeted his frame, causing his muscles to twitch uncontrollably. It was instinct alone that allowed him to bring his shield up and slam it against the creature, momentarily stopping the thing from casing its magics. As his companions gathered behind him, Boneblade began to swing his sword, looking for weaknesses to exploit.

“Boneblade, look out! He’s summoning something!”

The warrior took a quick look to the left, where several speheres of energy rose from the ground.

“Plentiful, exploitable resources... primed for acquisition!” The ethereal yelled, his hands guiding the spheres toward him.

“Bone! Keep him away from them!”

“Already on it, Lev,” replied Boneblade under his breath. “I don’t have anywhere to go but back, so you’d all better be ready to move!” He started to back up the causeway, trying to carefully avoid the broken sections that would drop him precipitously to the floor below. He felt a twinge of fatigue seeping into the cold flesh of his muscles, yet he fought on, swinging his blade with precision, blocking and parrying the ethereal’s blows as often as possible. Suddenly he watched at the thing fell to his knees before him. Wary of a ruse, Boneblade stepped forward, watching as the trade-prince raised its wrapped face toward his.

“This is an...unrecoverable... loss…”

“Yes,” replied Boneblade coldly. “It is.” With that he thrust his sword forward, catching the thing, he assumed between two of its ribs. It fell backward, cold and still on the floor. Boneblade joined him, resting heavily on his knees.”

“So tired,” he said, his movements slow and labourious.

“Here, drink this,” said the druid, handing him a flask filled with some bubbling fluid. “It’ll help ease some of that fatigue.” Boneblade opened the flask and upended it without thought, the liquid burning its way down his throat.”

“Gods! What is that stuff?” he said with a gasp.

“Oh, sorry…that was for one of those two,” he said, pointing toward Levious and Saphryagrim. “Here, try this one instead.”

The warrior looked at this flask warily. Had he eyelids he’d have narrowed his eyes at the druid; instead he slowly opened the second flask and drank the contents warily. The liquid was cold and crisp, and he felt rejuvenated and refreshed by it.

“How much more do you think we’ll have to face?”

“I’m not sure,” replied Levious, his fingers tapping against each other.

~~~~~~~~~~/////||\\\\\~~~~~~~~~~

As the final dragonkin fell, the party stood gasping for breath. Boneblade looked amongst them, and he knew that if Cyanigosa was going to show herself, now was the time. He felt cold drafts of air through several breaks in his plate armour, and he knew his companions were in much the same shape. The mage, warlock and druid desperately tried to recover their mystical forces while the black armoured knight struggled to summon forth yet another ghoul from the cold ground beneath them. Yes, this was the perfect time for her to finish them all.

“A valiant defense!” he heard a voice shout. The timbre was female and elven, yet the intonation was far greater. A dark robed elf appeared among them, her smile colder than the ice that his mage companion summoned yet again to protect him. “Unfortunately for all of you, this city MUST be razed! My lord, Malygos, demands it, and his will is my command. I shall enforce that will myself!”

Boneblade shuddered as the chamber was suffused with energy, and he watched as the elf’s features shifted, growing to immense size. Suddenly Cyanigosa stood before them in all her might, her draconian shape nearly dwarfing the chamber itself. “We finish this now, champions of Kirin Tor!”

As she lunged toward them Boneblade leapt forward, his sword drawn back in preparation for a mighty blow.

“FOR PONY!”

As his sword struck true, he heard Saphryagrim’s voice quietly behind him.

“For Pony? What the…”

“Never mind that,” Boneblade yelled. “ATTACK!”

As his sword struck again he noticed the knight’s ghoul leap forward, teeth bared and dirty claws swiping at the beast’s side. The mage began to cast his magics toward the dragon, who laughed as the icy blasts bounced off her thick scaled hide.

“You have forgotten what true magic is! Let me offer this to you as a reminder!”

Boneblade heard Levious hiss as his body shook from an overload of magic. He began to drop to his knees, almost in supplication to this master of magic, yet Boneblade knew it was far more than that.

“Quick! Heal him! Before he drops!”

The druid turned his attention briefly toward the mage. “But, if she weakens you too much…”

“If we lose him we are weakened far more! Do it!”

He didn’t have time to watch; all his attention had to be held on making sure the dragon’s attacks were on him. He felt the heat from the warlock’s rain of fire, and watched as the dragon shuddered in pain as she inflicted curses of agony and pain on him. Out of his left eye he watched the knight’s rune-etched blade draw energy from the beast itself, feeding vampirically from the creature’s own life forces to inflict even greater wounds on her. The dragon swept her head down, jaws open wide. A second too slow and Boneblade knew that he’d likely have been bitten in tow; only reflexes allowed him to dodge the potential mortal blow.

Without warning the beast reared up, exposing her underbelly to the group. A massive cold wind swept down on them, chilling them to the bone. “Shiver and die!” she screamed in triumph, but Boneblade detected desperation in her voice as well. He knew the dragon was as weak as they were…if only they could hold her off just a moment longer, they might have a chance at victory.

“Boneblade! I don’t have the energy to heal you anymore! Do something!”

The warrior steeled himself. He drew upon an inner reservoir of strength he rarely had to touch. If this wasn’t enough to buy time for his party, they were all doomed. Redoubling his attacks, the warrior rejoined the knight as they sliced and thrust at the dragon. He heard Saphryagrim summon forth one last spell from her depleted energies, a bolt of shadowy energy flying from her exhausted hands. It struck simultaneously with a devastating blow from his sword. Levious launched one last arcane blast as Cyanigosa fell, her body’s fall shaking the prison to its foundations.

“Perhaps... we have... underestimated... you…”

Without so much as a thought the knight raised his massive runeblade over his head and with a single blow cleaved the beast’s head from her neck. Holding it in one hand he ripped his helm off, his face a wash of pain and fatigue.

“Was all this death…truly necessary?”

Levious ripped the dragon’s head from the knight’s grasp. “Oh, quit your whining, fool,” he said, trudging toward the prison’s exit. “We got what we came for…let’s get out of here.”

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'I am a living thinking entity that was created in the sea of information.'
#97 Nov 29 2009 at 8:47 PM Rating: Excellent
#98 Nov 30 2009 at 12:14 PM Rating: Good
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139 posts
Thanks, Wordaen :-)

I wasn't clear in my explanation of characters, I think...

The four 'main' characters are all people I play(ed) with, or are in fact myself. I'm the undead warrior tank in the story, Boneblade. Saphryagrim, the blood elf 'lock, is my real life girlfriend (almost 7 months now!) that I refer to on a regular post by post basis because we both play. The undead mage is my former guild master, and the tauren druid is a good friend of mine who has a name that quite frankly I am amazed hasn't been flagged yet...hence the jokes about the floating, blue garbed entities (Blizz GMs) hunting him down...

From my standpoint, at least my statement makes more sense now, and that makes me happy. And I hope people enjoy the story...I know I've gotten some good enjoyment out of the ones I have read, and I am being pushed by people from the story to write more, so we'll see...
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'I am a living thinking entity that was created in the sea of information.'
#99 Dec 01 2009 at 1:20 AM Rating: Excellent
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I hope, as I'm sure others do, that this is but the first in a line of stories you'll post. Excellent read and most entertaining.
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Someone on another forum wrote:
Wow, you've got an awesome writing style.! I really dig the narrator's back story, humor, sarcasm, and the plethora of pop culture references. Altogether a refreshingly different RotR journal (not that I don't like the more traditional ones, mind you).

#100 Dec 01 2009 at 9:31 AM Rating: Good
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139 posts
Quote:
I hope, as I'm sure others do, that this is but the first in a line of stories you'll post. Excellent read and most entertaining.


Thanks :-)

It's sometimes hard to get the proper impetus for a story...I'm not quite sure how this one came about. I was initially going to leave that opening part (the first half) as the piece, sort of an in media res vignette, but I was asked to finish it off. So I did. I have a few half formed ideas, and if anything comes of them,I'll be a little less wishy washy about posting them :-)
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'I am a living thinking entity that was created in the sea of information.'
#101 Dec 10 2009 at 4:17 AM Rating: Good
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Since I'm sure there are one or two of you who might enjoy them, I finally uploaded the last of my completed stories. I also decided my journal now has too many stickies, so I made an overall story sticky and just linked to all of them from there.

I also added some info to that sticky, and am going to eventually add a character list to help you folks out, since I'm too lazy to really go into some of the characters a lot of the time.
____________________________
Someone on another forum wrote:
Wow, you've got an awesome writing style.! I really dig the narrator's back story, humor, sarcasm, and the plethora of pop culture references. Altogether a refreshingly different RotR journal (not that I don't like the more traditional ones, mind you).

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