A story of TW

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Dymond
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Re: A story of TW

#376 » Post by Dymond » 26 Dec 2015 18:54

Gotta love BadPanda :)

Maybe you should call upon the King of kings! Xtreme to the rescue...
“Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.

Confucius”

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Prite
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Re: A story of TW

#377 » Post by Prite » 02 Jan 2016 00:42

Hey Blue! In case you missed my message
"YOU KILLED MEKO!! YOU COLD HEARTED PERSON! WHY?! D: :'(

I really just wanted to tell you that! :<

and since I'm here, Happy new year people, best of luck this year and for the next ones XD
"All Warfare is based on Deception."
"Dura Praxis, Sed Praxis"
"Engenhus Facultis"

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Bluebell
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Re: A story of TW

#378 » Post by Bluebell » 03 Jan 2016 22:26

The lamb must die so that the sheep can prosper

People in this chapter:

Spoiler:
Belendor
Discarnate
Stray
Bluebell
Gorecleave
Kapernakiss
Doctor
Crescendo

HappyPanda
Coo
Blackluster
Merkava
Justicelight
Teraan



Chapter 27 - A Journey Begins
Spoiler:
**Blackluster**


Clutching his head the Stormwind knight plead for his mind to stay still. Around him he looked to see his eyes betray him, the air turned into waving motions as his imagination to a grip. Fires sprung up only to disappear, screams of pain pillaged his ears and his breath escaped him.

“MOVE! NOW!” yelled Merkava as the trio struggled forward in the sweltering heat of the barren lands.

Blackluster looked behind him. In the distance a group of riders dashed towards them at great pace. Yells filled the air as the cavalry drew closer, their armour the colour of Orgrimmar.

“Stop looking and RUN!” shouted Merkava once more snapping the Stormwind warrior out of his thoughts.

Suddenly he noticed his guards sprinting well ahead of him, leaving him from dead. Picking himself up from the ground, his mouth dry from dehydration and days without clean water. Ever since they reached the hostile lands of the Horde they had been on the run. Hiding from Orgrimmar patrols and stealing any substance they can to keep the quest going. Now at the final stretch, as Cherno had put it, they had been spotted.

Chasing throughout the barren lands of Kalimdor their pursuers were relentless. Despite losing them momentarily, they could never fully escape. Always in their shadow, a footstep behind the trio's guard remained up at all times.

Blackluster stepped forward, his energy drained with every step a new struggle. His body aching with every movement, legs treading desperately on as if constrained by deep mud, sweat oozing from his forehead.

“I..I can't...” he murmured before dropping to his knees.

Clutching the ground, wrapping his fists around the rough sand.. It filtered through his fingertips streaming away as his eyesight wavered again. He could feel his chest pulling itself apart in agony as every fibre of his body trembled. Fluttering his eyelids the nightmare landscape returned, the horrors the demons cursed upon him haunted his surroundings, tearing his reality to pieces. Every passing piece of dust dripping from his grip was like another step in the descent to insanity.

Returning to the bloodline, the two paladins attempted to bring him back to their world. Cherno peered down at Blackluster, looking back up the warrior revealed his blood shot eyes, each one a corridor into madness. The Horde paladin then turned his Alliance counterpart and shook his head.

“It's settled then.” said Merkava before drawing his sword, “We fight.”

Cherno rose to his feet, Blackluster shaking intensified as the two paladins looked on. Unsheathing his blade they began to take on the incoming group. Like a storm on the horizon their enemies blistered towards them, every second seemed to bring more into their view. Taking a deep breath each the last warriors of light raised their weapons to prepare for the charge.

Thundering through the air waves came a cry of battle, “For the Horde!”

**Belendor**


After days of executions and rampages through the ancient chapel archives, the last remains of the holy order had been wiped out. Belendor sat surrounded by his loyal Belendorian guard inside the chapel halls. Down his back he had clipped a long white cape, stolen from the chests of the paladins. Standing up from his seat, he walked over to the picture of Dalaran hung proudly on the wall, stones fell around him as the structure struggled to keep upright. Running his fingers over the paint, it seemed wet to touch yet eerily hot. Retreating his hand he rubbed the fingertips together, noticing the ink beginning to peel. Intrigued, the paladin squinted and moved closer. The image had began to peel, and yet he could feel the heat burning on his skin as his face drew near it.

“Sir!” shouted a voice as the doors slammed open, a howling wind then whistled through the chamber.

Interrupted, Belendor turned. His long cloak flew up from the wind yet the paladin stood sternly still. Unimpressed he walked towards the table and the eager messenger, noticing a parchment and concealed item in his hands.

“What is it that is so important you choose to disturb me?” he asked.

Nervously the messenger etched forward. Placing the letter on the long wooden table, and then the delicately wrapped parcel. He then backed away from the edge towards the door.

“A..A message returned from Lord Gorecleave sir. Good day, I shall take my leave” he then bowed, before retreating and shutting the door behind him.

Snapping from his serious tones Belendor quickly rushed for the news. He picked up the parcel first, only to drop it in exchange for the letter. Reading the parchment carefully, his eyes darted through the instructions before etching onto the last phrase and finally moving onto the object placed beneath him.

As he reached for the parcel his hand scrunched the letter into a ball. The paper crippling in his grip with his focus now on his gift. Disregarding caution the wrapping was ripped aside, like a rampant animal Belendor clawed away until he revealed it.

In his hands he now raised his prize before him. A black and green blade with unknown glyphs inscribed along the hilt. His face flashed expressions, swapping from joy as a smile drew along his face, before jumping back to his unemotional self. With his attention completely drawn, he didn't notice the doors swing open and MadPanda enter.

“Lord Belendor, I suspect you received Lord Gorecleave's gift?”

Belendor simply snickered back, his emotions running as high as a mountain and plummeting like the deepest oceans. His shaking laughter jittered as he gazed upon the sword, tears began to drip down his face with his eyes displaying a dark contrast to his expression.

“Perhaps you...wish to be alone sir?” asked MadPanda, concern growing in his voice, looking around the room he saw Belendor's guards stood still unphased by their commander's apparent state.

Twitching back the paladin noticed MadPanda's presence. His head rocking back and forth he looked towards the doorway. A blank expression dawned over his face as silence gripped the room for a few moments.

His eyes then drifted to the blade, “Leave...us” he whispered.

MadPanda stepped back,before noticing the Belendorians obediently marched out of the chapel in single file. Brushing past him, he watched them leave, devoid of souls like ghosts in the night until they drifted into the background.

“Is it the nightmares, sir? Is she back? Shall I send for the druid healers of our home?” asked MadPanda.

“Leave us!” shouted Belendor as if speaking to the sword, his eyes fully locked upon it.

“Sir are you ok?” asked MadPanda, his tongue quivering with every syllable, “I can get help, healers to ease the pain. We won, they're all gone now.”

Slowly Belendor's neck turned his head towards the soldier. His face now perfectly still as they stared into each other's eyes. MadPanda started to creep closer, cautiously stepping to get a closer look.

With their gaze not broken, Belendor then thrust the dark blade into his chest, pushing it deeper as it pierced his armour. Both hands firmly holding the tilt. MadPanda rushed forward to his captain's aid before freezing a few reaches away. A shadow flew over the paladin, reaching his head and causing his eyes to dilate. Now fully black, MadPanda stared into the very darkness that had become of the paladin.

“Leave us!” he bellowed once more, the remaining windows of the chapel shattered and the building shook, giving more stones reason to crash down around him.

“Ye....yes sir.” ushered MadPanda as he fled from the scene.

Belendor then fell to the ground. His palms feeling the cold slabs of the floor as new found pains ripped around his body. His eyes closed as the torture tore through him, his teeth began to grit and his heart pumped. For a moment, he felt it stop. Around him time seemed to cease and his body went numb. Slowly he opened his eyelids, raising them up. Just then the affliction returned. Attempting to scream his mouth opened yet not even a squeak was produced.

Through the suffering, his hand pushed upwards. Placing it on the table he agonizingly rose to his feet. The sword, covered in blood dropped to the ground. He closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath, placing his other hand over his wound. Opening his eyes, the dark paladin smiled as his chest remained intact. Picking up the bloodied blade, he marched into the hailing rain towards the camp.

Noticing Belendor approaching, MadPanda rushed at him. The conditions were bleak, thunderstorms prevailed since their invasion and the loft ground had taken a toll giving way to marshland.

“Are you ok sir? The weather seems to have got worse, what happened? Do you need hel-”

“Prepare the men.” demanded Belendor, marching past his second in command.

“But sir, they are tired, many wish to return home. And where is there left to go?”

Turning to his subordinate, Belendor released his hand and forced it upon MadPanda's neck.

“Prepare the troops. We leave at sunrise, and do not question the commands of your superiors.” he then dropped MadPanda back down and walked off.

Coughing for air, he asked “But sir, where are we going?”

Facing him again, Belendor grinned “Ahn'Qiraj.”

MadPanda then looked up in amazement and gasped “The lost city of the Angels? I thought that was but a myth! What do we need an army for there?”

Belendor smiled and raised his hand into a fist, “There resided the Angel Doctor. I suspect our friend Blackluster is on an ill fated journey to meet with him. We shall see to it that neither party lives to see their last breaths.”, looking at his outstretched hand he flexed his fist, “Perhaps with this new power, we shall not need an army. Bring only the strong, for we have gods to slay.”

**Merkava**


With Horde battle cries filling the air the two paladins stood staring adversity in the face. Mounted terrors galloped towards them and their fate was a mere moments away. With the faces of their enemies in sight the two ran forward to meet them, each shouting indistinguishable words.

Suddenly the closest knight approaching dropped from his horse, a second to their left flew backwards hit by an arrow. Stopping still they looked forward as the soldiers attacking began to dwindle in number before stopping themselves. Reassembling, the formation ahead charged to the right with a seemingly more potent target in mind.

Lowering their weapons Merakva and Cherno turned to the right. Beyond the once again charging patrol they noticed a small squad of lightly armoured men. Equipped with bows they fired onto the Horde brigade, a few more than sprinted from behind them carrying large pikes. As the two forces clashed the smaller force's tactics prevailed wearing down their more heavily armoured counterparts. Eventually the remaining mounted troops retreated, hails of arrows followed their absence and the victors began to cheer before scavenging their fallen foes.

Cherno and Merkava looked at each other confused, when suddenly an arrow streaked between the two. They then turned to see multiple troops pointing weapons at them, cutting any escape.

“Who are you? What is your business? You look not like you hail from Orgrimmar or even Thunderbluff.” asked one of the soldiers.

“My name is Merkava, head Paladin of Stor-”

Cherno then stepped in front of his Alliance counterpart, “I am Cherno. Loyal warrior of Orgrimmar and the true Horde.” Merkava was shocked at the interruption.

From behind the crowd, Coo walked forward. A large bow strapped to his back, he smiled at the sight of an old friend.

“Well, well.” spoke Coo, his hands ordering the others to lower their weapons, “If it isn't Cherno. Is this the help you sought from your Paladin friends? What happened to those that followed you?”

Cherno bit his lip, “They...We are all that's left. The others...I have never seen such a force. But that is not why I come. Coo, you must take me to Teraan at once. Is the camp still intact? We need your help, take us to him at once.”

Coo then looked around the paladin to see Blackluster murmuring to himself on the ground, his whole body shaking. Scanning up and down Merkava, he noticed the symbols of the Alliance on them both.

“Who is he?” asked the archer pointing at Merkava.

“A friend, an ally” reassured Cherno.

“And him?” he asked, pointing at Blackluster.

Cherno turned around and looked at the warrior, “Everything..”

**Teraan**


As darkness to over the skies, the leader of the horde resistance stood at the front of the camp. Every night he waited for his last patrol to come in, lingering from within the forests of Ashenvale. Holding a torch as high as he could, he waited for their return. Some nights the gates remained empty yet he waited in hope. The trees around him whispered thoughts he could never speak. Silent nights often become ones of sorrow, air filled with dread and invisible screams. Despite all the guards giving in to slumber, Teraan's resolve remained intact.

A great relief took over him as the last party, Coo's men, streamed into the camp. As his trusted officer strode over to him, Teraan greeted and began to ask what bounties the patrol has reaped.

Coo simply patted him on the back, directed Teraan to the main tent before saying “My friend. You should see what we have brought home.”

With the two now safely inside the large tent, Teraan sat atop a wooden log used as a bench. Coo smiled as he stood by the entrance.

“So, what is so important that we are confined to such spaces?” asked the leader.

Coo then pulled away the tent cover allowing Cherno to enter. Teraan's eyes shot open, he then rose to his feet and the two embraced.

“I thought...I thought you were gone. What happened with the others? Did you bring more? Help from the Paladins?”

The two paladins then left their hugs, Cherno's face went grim, “None have returned. Our brothers died so that I may live. So that I may deliver a message to you.”

Perplexed and in dismay, Teraan asked back “Me? What messages could they have for me?”

“The bloodlines...they live! The stories, the legends. They are true! There is hope for us still! In you, there is the blood of the ancient heroes. We must go to-”

Teraan began to laugh slightly.

“What makes you laugh?” asked Cherno.

“Me?” replied Teraan, “A descendant of the great bloodlines of paladin legend? A son of the guardians of humanity, blessed with the power of the angels?!”

“Yes...” continued Cherno, “It must be true. I know it so! The last son of Discarnate is a leader of the Horde. Who better than you who leads us even now in this time of darkness? The Angels, they sent us to you for this very mission.”

“Us?” asked Teraan back, “You said no others returned?”

As he mentioned, Merkava and the recovering Blackluster entered the tent. Noticing their alliance symbols Teraan immediately drew his sword and pointed it towards the two.

“Them? Alliance? Can we trust them?” asked the concerned Teraan.

Cherno placed his hand over the blade and forced it down, “Calm, friend. It was you after all who wished to align us with the Alliance.”

Nodding in compliance, the paladin then asked, “What mission did the Angels bring you to me for?”

Merkava then stepped forward, “If I may. I am Merkava, Arch Bishop Paladin of Stormwind and the Alliance. In the absence of Justicelight, I take the position of Justicar of the Holy Order of Paladins.”

Coo and Teraan looked each other in the eyes unimpressed before Teraan asked him, “Ok, and?”

Disgruntled by the interrupted, Merkava continued, “And the Angels spoke to me to take the blood lines to the forgotten graveyard of the gods. There we shall bring back the lost bloodlines, the original heroes, and bring balance back. We have the son of Stray, and now the son of Discarnate. We can then find the daughter of Bluebell and-”

“Daughter of Bluebell?” asked Teraan, “You mean, the warlock of Lordearan? Who fled the order to create her own, shrouded in darkness? Your holy quest revolves around taking her?”

“Correct”, answered Merkava, “And-”

“And you think I am the bloodline?” mocked Teraan causing Coo to snigger in the background.

Cherno stepped in, “Are you not?”

“I was not aware.” answered the smiling Teraan, “The things you learn! Anyway, that graveyard was thought to be lost, do you know where it is?”

“No...” replied Merkava, causing Cherno to look back at him.

“So let me get this straight. Your plan, from the Angels themselves. Is to find me, then convince the warlocks to join us, the paladins they seek to destroy. And then go to some ancient graveyard of Angels, lost for centuries without a clue of where it is?”

Merkava sighed in frustration, “There is one who knows. At the very deep ends of Kalimdor lies the ancient city of Ahn'Qiraj. There rests an Angel known as Doctor. His wise words will guide us to where we must go.”

Teraan looked around the tent. They remained silent awaiting his decision. His eyes looked onto each of them, from the unimpressed Coo to the eager Cherno, and from the frightened Blackluster to the confident Merkava. Looking to his feet, he then turned his back to them. Walking to the edge, he swept aside cups and trinkets to reveal a wooden box.

“And you wish for me to come with you?” he asked, opening the chest.

“Yes.” replied Merkava.

Still searching in the chest, he asked “And you can lead our men in by absence? Can take the burden of the Horde?”

Cherno and Coo both replied at once, “Yes”, before looking at each other.

Teraan smiled and pulled a necklace from the box. It carried silver chains and a red gem locked at the bottom. He then turned to the group, stood up straight and held it against the light.

“It's said that this piece of jewellery has the dying blood of Discarnate himself. Locked away all this time in such a simple piece” he whispered, staring into it, his eyes then darted back to Merkava, “Kapernakiss wore it. When that traitor Belendor took her life, she handed it over to me, the last memory I have of her. Perhaps, it shall bring us some luck.” he then tucked it around his neck and under his shirt.

“So you shall come?” asked Merkava.

“What's to lose!” joked the horde leader, “I never liked forests much anyway, will be nice to see something new.”

“Great” nodded Merkava, we should take a day's rest and leave in the morrow. No doubt the scoundrel Belendor will be hot on our trails.”

Teraan smirked, “Oh. I'm counting on that.”
Why join the winning side if you can change the winner?

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Mmeko
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Joined: 13 Sep 2010 21:24

Re: A story of TW

#379 » Post by Mmeko » 06 Jan 2016 11:30

Prite wrote:Hey Blue! In case you missed my message
"YOU KILLED MEKO!! YOU COLD HEARTED PERSON! WHY?! D: :'(

I really just wanted to tell you that! :<

and since I'm here, Happy new year people, best of luck this year and for the next ones XD
hai Prite ^^ Best wishes for the new year to you too

I'm not too disappointed I died, pretty surprised I made it so far actually

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Prite
Posts: 350
Joined: 28 Aug 2010 01:34
Location: Portugal

Re: A story of TW

#380 » Post by Prite » 06 Jan 2016 18:43

Mmeko wrote: hai Prite ^^ Best wishes for the new year to you too

I'm not too disappointed I died, pretty surprised I made it so far actually
HEYA DUDE! How are ya? XD
I haven't talked to you in ages! XD
Well I was surprised to recognize one more name in Blue's story, and it was pretty damn cool
Blue sucks, she's a bad person, she keeps killing people :/
And every person/personality I enjoyed, she killed him/her.. she's after my favourites >.>
#conspiracy :O XD
"All Warfare is based on Deception."
"Dura Praxis, Sed Praxis"
"Engenhus Facultis"

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Mmeko
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Joined: 13 Sep 2010 21:24

Re: A story of TW

#381 » Post by Mmeko » 07 Jan 2016 01:43

Prite wrote: Well I was surprised to recognize one more name in Blue's story, and it was pretty damn cool
guess you also haven't logged in truewow for some time then? :) or you've been playing?

I'm alright, just hop in the forums from time to time to check out this thread :D i did like my character's personality, felt like a pretty faithful transposition of how i behaved ingame :3

e.g.
"Sir...tell me it isn't so?” pleaded Meko.
“Are you sure sir?” asked the scared Meko.
“Thank you, sir.” said Meko reluctantly, as his body trembled with fear.

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Bluebell
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Joined: 06 Feb 2011 23:40

Re: A story of TW

#382 » Post by Bluebell » 13 Jan 2016 14:45

Chapter 28 – The prophet


People in this chapter:

Spoiler:
Blackluster
Dymond
Merkava
MadPanda
Teraan
Doctor J
Roel
Bluebell
Crescendo
Kapernakiss

Spoiler:
**Blackluster**
After days of travelling, the small resistance had reached the deserts of Silithus. A barren wasteland of dried likes and perilous ridges was littered with rotting skeletons of giant beasts of a time long gone. Teraan and Merkava darted over a large sand dune out of sight as the warrior struggled to climb the cliff face. Hand by hand he pulled himself up the hill, every grip falling from him as sand dripped from his finger tips. A large horn could be heard blowing in the distance as Merkava arrived over the horizon, Blackluster looked up to him, pausing for a moment.

“Hurry up!” he shouted, “We need to see the prophet before the Horde catch us! They're right on our tail!”

Taking a deep breath, Blackluster persevered. Scaling the dunes and sliding down the other side. Hill after hill and an ocean of dust splintered his eyes as they trudged from the thick sand. Sweltering heats plucked his energy as the glowing sun burned above them. Every two steps he seemed to fall one more as the ground worked against his every effort, his focus split between Merkava's constant commands and the fear of the oncoming attack from the rear.

Just then, his grip wavered and the face of the cliff sauntered down causing Blackluster to drop rapidly towards the bottom. Looking below he saw the ground opening up, quicksand taking a hold as the plains themselves seem to separate. Desperately he scrambled to safety to no avail as only grains trickled through his hands.

Quickly, Teraan jumped after the bloodline. Skittering down the face of the sand dune he through caution out the window to save Blackluster. Upon reaching the plummeting warrior he sank his blade into the sand, sliding down near him to extend his other hand out. Reaching back up Blackluster managed to grab the paladins aid, swinging perilously over the sinking sands beneath.

As Teraan pulled him up and attempted to reach the top, he looked directly into Blackluster's eyes, “I see fear in you. Do not give in to it, I feel it too. But do not be scared, never give up, keep going through all the hardships. For you are blessed with a terrible burden. One that we cannot lift without sacrifice. But for all the sacrifices you make now, for all the suffering you endure and pain inflicted upon you protects the world from the same fate. Every step you take saves another life, every hurt you have saves a hundred others from a similar fate. It burns, it hurts, it attacks your very being. I know, Blackluster, I know. This quest, it is not about you, or me, or even the Angels and Demons that use us in their little game. No. It is about your friends, your family, all those you left at home. Anyone you know who right now lives under an iron fist, who lives in fear that every day may be their last and very way of life has been crushed. It is for them that we keep going. It is for them that we travel the world for a slim hope. That very morsel of a chance that just maybe, just somehow, we can pull them out of the darkness and into the light. Now, Blackluster son of Stray and guardian of humanity's might, rise with me!”

Blackluster then nodded back as the paladin helped him up. Reaching the crux, they saw Merkava had already began the descent towards yet another cliff. Blackluster sighed, before Teraan patted him on the shoulder and smiled with reassurance before jumping down himself.

As Blackluster fell behind again yet moved with conviction and slowly clambered to the top of what seemed like mountain, sand spiralling down his hands, he noticed the two paladins stood at the summit. Relieved, he crawled next to them and reached for his water pouch. Squeezing it dry in a vein attempt to rehydrate. Narrowing his gaze he scanned the horizons to see a wasteland of dust and desert, his eyes battered by a light sandstorm filtering through the air.

“It's beautiful.” remarked Merkava to Blackluster's surprise.

“I never....I thought it was but a myth. Well I'll be. The lost city of the angels.” replied Teraan.

Getting up the Stormwind knight looked over to their view, attempting to see what beauty they could possibly make out in such a place. Focusing his eyes he saw only sand, for miles he saw nothing but sand. In the air, on the ground and all around. Then, he saw it. Faintly over the dunes, hidden in plain sight. Giant golden blocks, a diamond in the rough cut by the desert itself. He couldn't quite make out the structures, but it seemed to sparkle in the sun, arches and stair ways , foundations for buildings long blown away. All the troubles seemed to leave and the air dropped deadly quiet as they gazed upon the ancient wonder.

“Enough time dithering, we need to move!” shouted Merkava breaking the solemn silence, before pushing Blackluster plummeting down the dune.

“What? No! Wait!” screamed the warrior, the two paladins simply looked at each other and laughed before jumping down themselves.

Upon reaching the bottom the two helped Blackluster up before continuing their journey into the heart of the desert to find the lost city of Ahn'Qiraj.
**Belendor**
“Faster!” yelled Belendor at his men as they trounced after the resistance.

MadPanda approached his leader, “Sir, the men are tired. We have crossed two continents and an ocean to get here. These harsh conditions are too much even for us, perhaps we should rest?”

Turning around Belendor appeared enraged, MadPanda took a step back from his captain. Fist gripping tightly as the dark paladin looked upon the small cohort accompanying him. Tutting at their lack of motivation he faced away.

“Rest? We are so close to a total victory.” he leaned down to pick up some sand, watching it disappear from his grip, “And yet our enemies filter through our hands like sand in my fingers. Every moment we waste, another grain leaves. And you want to rest!”

Throwing the sand down onto the ground he grabbed his glowing black and green sword, and angrily glared at his second in command. His breath had began to be heavy with his new found rage.

Cautiously, MadPanda nodded, “I will ready the troops to begin our march, and double our efforts.

“You better. And make that clown with the horn stop blowing it every ten minutes, we don't want them to know how close we are.” he then tightened his fist facing the trio in the distance, “How close we are to squashing their pathetic hope.”

As MadPanda approached the men, the horde troops lying down desperately searching for water amongst the supplies, their leader simply stared over the looping dunes. Suddenly they gasped in amazement as a streak of light sped across the sky. Pointing upwards the group watched as it trickled through the air before spiralling back down. Noticing the commotion, Belendor looked up and squinted his eyes.

“ANGEL! Take cover!” he yelled, reaching for his blade.

Hurriedly the soldiers gathered their supplies and weapons and readied for an attack. Worried, their eyes darted around the landscapes for the figure and to see if there were more. Belendor backed himself up to the small army, eyes fixated straight forward, sword and shield ready in hands.

There, on top of the last dune they saw the trio on, stood a solitary silhouette. Glaring at the Angel, Belendor gritted his teeth. Raising his sword in the air he roared with anger, the men behind him began clattering their shields. In response the figure ahead flexed its magnificent wings, growing from behind they rose into he air amplifying the Angel's presence.

As the soldiers began marching forward, the figure raised what appeared to be a staff into the air. Another step from the army and the figure slammed the staff into the dune. Around the area the ground shook, waves brushed along the turf as dust clouds drifted through the air.

Belendor turned to his men, the floor rumbling beneath them. Staggering left and right the Horde soldiers struggled to keep upright as the sand rocked up and down. He became increasingly frustrated at their lack of drive, the ambition that he shared. Thrusting himself forward he made his way to the Angel's position, looking up he saw the figure slam down once more. With every step he took, the wind blew stronger, dust particles struck him pushing against him. On he forced himself, into the every oncoming tide, and yet with every ground he made the power became more. Striking his body, clouding his vision as his hand covered his eyes. With one eye open he looked up to his enemy, robes dangling in the dusty wind, it then clapped its hand furiously. Suddenly he felt himself thrown backwards into his troops. Finally, the paladin gave in, his knees crumbled from the pressure and the sandstorm worsened.

He looked up in anger once more to see the figure fly into the distance. His army now grounded, Belendor prepared for the weather to subside.
**Merkava**
Eventually the trio reached the great gates of Ahn'Qiraj. Golden stones the size of any man built up from within the sand itself. Perfectly cut architecture, worn away by the harsh conditions of the Silthius desert. Passing under the archway they finally walked upon solid ground, small bricks paving the way through an abandoned garden of rubble. What was once lush greenery now lay in ruin, with fractured plant pots and dry fountains layered around. Venturing further they saw monolithic statues of angel figures, parts seemingly cut off from around them. Strangely, the sandstorm seemed to be unable to bypass the great walls of the structure despite its lack of integrity. Looking above, great mosaic images clouded the ceiling, depicting battles and events of long ago.

“What's that one?” asked Teraan, pointing to a great black mountain engulfed in flames and multiple opposing armies.

Merkava tuttered in response, “Typical Horde. That is the great battle of the Burning Steppes, between the armies of light against the army of darkness. The great war of the heavens. Do you know nothing?”

“Was simply a question, some of us do not have time to read books all day” remarked the horde paladin.

“And you call yourself a paladin!” mocked Merkava in response.

Before their bickering could continue, the three then came to a great wooden door, about ten times their own size. Two golden door knobs hung on either side, while the beams around it gleamed a similar golden glow. Merkava and Teraan tried in vein to pull it open.

“Pull harder damn it!” commanded Merkava towards his horde counterpart.

“Me?!” bellowed Teraan, “I am pulling a damn sight harder than you!”

Exhausted, the two stepped back for a moment. Blackluster then walked forward to the door, and to their surprise it creaked open slowly. The two paladins looked at the warrior, and then to each other. Nodding together, they reached for their swords and went in ahead of Blackluster to see a dark room.

Carefully they crept into the dark room, their shining swords the only source of light. Hesitantly Blackluster followed them, drawing his weapons he noticed the gems of his shield began to glow their bright blue.

Suddenly, the doors slammed shut as soon as Blackluster walked through them. Teraan immediately jumped to the door, slamming his fist on the wooden frame as it closed.

As he turned to the others, torches lit all around the chamber. Great fires upon large columns placed throughout the room paved the way towards a broken throne. In amazement the group gazed at the beauty, large pictures of the world's landscape cluttered the walls while tattered carpets of every colour dawned along the floor.

“Such a long journey you make, and yet to leave so early you try?” asked a voice echoing around the chamber.

As the paladins raised their swords, a figure materialised upon the throne dressed in white robes and carrying a withered staff. A long white beard came from within the hooded figure and yellow eyes glistened from the darkness of its face.

Shocked, the two paladins watched Blackluster dragged along the floor upright. His feet scraping along the stone ground, his face turning to each of them in distress as he passed. Pulled all the way to the throne he then stood motionless before the cloaked figure. Quickly Merkava and Teraan sprinted to his aid, taking his side they readied themselves.

The figure then lowered his hood to reveal a golden glow, wings popping up from his back and a smile within his beard. He stood up from the throne and descended down its steps to the powerless three.

“I assume you have come to see your fates. Time is a fickle thing as is destiny. At times everything is clear, and then a new path comes, a new star aligns. So tell me, travellers from afar that I have watched so keenly, what brings you to the ruins of my ancient home?”

Merkava then lowered his knee, the two others looking to him, “Apologies, I was unsure if it was really you. Great Doctor, prophet of the Angels, we are lost on a journey. We were told to come unto you, and so that you may guide us.”

Doctor began stroking his beard and looking upon the three, “And so you have run out of orders of which to carry out, and now wish for me to provide some more? The fabled free will of humanity at its finest!”

Abruptly Teraan then stood forward, “Look. What he's saying is we have come a bloody long way. Fought battles against I don't even know what to call them, been told about some ancient prophecy to save the world. And we have no idea where to go other than this run down old mess and to our certain doom amongst the dark warlocks of Lorderan. So really, old man, just tell us, what in Roel's name do we do next?”

In response the Angel placed his wooden staff on Teraan's forehead. A globe atop it began to glow a vivid white as the paladin began to shiver with chills.

“And who, might you be, so bold of a man yet so frightened?” asked the Angel, pressing his straff forward.

Attempting to intervene, Merkava mentioned, “He is the last descendant of Discarnate, child of the Angels. It was foretold we would need all three final bloodlines to succeed. He is the last us his line-”

Ignoring Merkava, Doctor continued, “So wanting to lead your people, to save them....yes.... But. Ah. There is a girl, yes...a girl. Lost to you, lost to the world. So sad. Who do you wish to save....So my questions...Where do you go? Revenge ah you want revenge! But then...your fault? No...maybe? Yes I think so. Such burdens for such small shoulders...” suddenly he then snapped away from Teraan and pointed to Merkava, “You! Yes...you. The one who carries himself with such importance. What did you say?”

Merkava then began to reply before being cut off once more.

“Ssssh...ssh ssh.” spoke the Angel, “Merkava of Stormwind, ah yes. You said that this paladin before me is the bloodline, descendant of Discarnate. Ah, Discarnate yes...Wrong.”

Doctor then turned from the three, retracting his staff and sat down and stroked his beard some more. Teraan took a moment to recompose himself, while Merkava stepped forward.

“Sorry, wrong? What do you mean wrong?” he asked.

“Wrong.” replied Doctor.

“Ok but what does that mean? He's not the blood line? He must be!”

“Wrong.” Doctor repeated.

“What! Then why is he here! What use is he then!” Merkava angrily said.

“Calm yourself!” demanded Teraan, slightly relieved, “Ok, if I'm not, who is then?”

Swirling his staff once more, Doctor looked into the globe, “The one you seek, locked away within the confines of darkness by the one they call Gorecleave. Lost to you...yes, lost to you long ago.”

“Can't you just tell us?!” demanded Merkava growing impatient at the riddles.

“Wait...” said Teraan, “Locked way? A leader of the Horde? That's what you said, right? It must be Virdo, the nights before our Guardian was killed I went looking for him. And it was Gorecleave who kidnapped him, I remember. That means he's alive! Virdo's alive! He is the true leader of our people!”

Doctor smiled, “Yes, the one known as Virdo lives.”

Teraan began to smile, “That's it then! Virdo is the last bloodline! But how do we get to him?”

Returning to his segment, the Angel continued, “So much rushing. Your race never takes time to just think and enjoy the moment. The prophecy that has been foreseen tells that the blood of the three must be put forward to summon the saviour forth. Within the halls of Exodar, you must go and a drip from each hero will bring forth the original bloodlines back from beyond. And from then you can begin your journey to redemption of your race. You...yes, you Teraan. You may not carry the blood within your veins, but around your neck you hold a treasure so precious.”

Blackluster sighed greatly, “So you just need my blood? Thank Roel! I can stay here, or, somewhere, not here” he then looked around, “But somewhere out of danger! Ok, that's good!”

“You're coming with us.” replied Merkava sternly.

“But, the old guy said you ju-” he protested.

“You're coming with us.” demanded the paladin once more.

Meanwhile, Teraan was twiddling with the ruby necklace and suddenly noticed Doctor place his staff in front of Blackluster. A white flash of light fluttered before them, blinding momentarily. When his vision return, he noticed Blackluster dropping the ground and quickly rushed to catch him.

The Angel then sat back down upon his chair and rested his head upon his hands. Yawning momentarily his eyes closes as if he was about to sleep. The two paladins looked at each other, unaware of what just happened before looking back at the sleeping Angel.

“Doctor?” asked Merkava attempting to wake him.

Doctor opened one eye, his mouth moved up and down slightly before he simply replied back “Hm?”

Motioning back to the knocked out Blackluster, Merkava attempted to bring the conversation back around. Doctor's eye looked down to the warrior before back to Merkava. Suddenly his eyes shot open fully.

“Ah yes. Of course. You wish to know why he sleeps.” mumbled the Angel.

“Yes, what is so important that it must kept from the ears of the fool?” mocked Merkava as Teraan gently lowered Blackluster to the ground.

“Prophecies...such complicated things. The last part that completes the end of days.” he told them, starting to walk down the steps of the throne.

“So tell us it?” persisted Teraan.

Doctor complied, “The original prophecy goes as so. The first must die so that the bloods can run, the second must die to save the last, and the last must die to save us all.”

“How does he die?” asked Teraan quickly.

Doctor simply shook his head in response, “But he cannot know his fate”

“A man has a right to know his own death. This is a death sentence that he does not deserve!” he protested.

“It is the will of the gods.” replied Merkava, nodding back to Doctor.

“It is the will of something greater than even us...a prophecy so old I don't quite remember who said it” retorted Merkava.

“So, we might be walking into doom for no reason, and he may give his life for a broken promise from some long dead people. And it may not even be the right time! Great. Just great” argued Teraan, waving his hands around.

Doctor suddenly slammed his staff on the ground sending shock waves throughout, waking even Blackluster up. Stunned, Teraan and Merkava both looked up to the Angel whose wings had now grown beyond his robes. A quick change of tone gave Doctor a dominating prescence.

“Look around you!” he bellowed, his voice echoing around the chamber and seemingly in their heads, “My people are gone, our civilization in ruin. Angel kind are not long for this world, the prophecy is now and you are the ones to fulfil it. Now go!”

Blackluster started to rise to his feet, rubbing his head while Merkava simply bowed. Teraan thought for a moment, before then asking.

“Ok, great. So shouting at me seems to have convinced me of that. But how do we get out? There's an army of horde soldiers waiting outside, and unless you're going to go fight them, I'm certain we can't. Not to mention the desert out there is only getting worse. We may not survive the night.”

Within the last utterance, a great crash could be heard above them. Dust shook off the ceiling as the sound of padding thundered through the halls. Doctor then threw a silver ring towards Teraan.

“A dragon rider's ring. It allows you to ride the mount of an Angel, now go” he motioned towards a small exit door behind him, “I have another visitor, now go!”

Doctor then slumped back into his chair returning to his rest. Yawning as his eyes closed, his staff vanished from his grip and the lights of the chamber went out.

Teraan put the ring on, red dragon wings were inscribed within the silver. The three then left the chamber and sprinted up a stone spiral staircase. As they reached the top of the building, the horrid conditions forced them to cover their eyes. A great white dragon waited for them expectantly, and as the three climbed on it took off.

“Where is this thing taking us?” asked Blackluster, clinging on desperately as it soared greater heights.

“Lorderan” answered Merkava, “Where else but to see the daughter of Bluebell?”

Soaring higher into the air the trio began to leave the dense weather to ascend into the clouds.
Looking down through the sandstorm they strained to see a stream of Horde banners entering the city of the Angels. Doctor's second visitor had arrived.
Last edited by Bluebell on 23 Jan 2016 04:05, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: A story of TW

#383 » Post by Liqueur » 13 Jan 2016 17:35

I imagined the Doctor played by Ian McKellen.
Since everyone's with their character list:
Liqueur ~ level 80 Blood Elf Paladin (PvE Ret/PvP Holy)
Caffeine ~ level 80 Undead Warrior (Fury/Prot)
Narcotic ~ level 80 Undead Priest (Disc/Shadow)
Megalomaniac ~ level 80 Orc Death Knight (UH DPS/Frost-Blood hybrid tank)
Lemuria ~ level 80 Troll Hunter (MM/BM)
Daisy ~ level 80 Tauren Druid (Balance/Resto)
Eszti ~ level 80 Human Warlock (Destro/Affli)
Gummybear ~ level 80 Blood Elf Paladin (Holy/Prot)
Lazy ~ level 80 Troll Rogue (Combat)
Foamy ~ level 80 Troll Priest (Holy/Shadow)
Bloodcow ~ level 80 Tauren Death Knight (Blood Tank/Blood DPS)
Neuroticfish ~ level 80 Night Elf Druid (Feral Cat/Bear)
Soilbleed ~ level 80 Orc Shaman (Enha/Resto)
Rottenmaiden ~ level 60 Undead Warlock

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Re: A story of TW

#384 » Post by kayliee » 18 Jan 2016 02:50

damn computer problems,
read the story still no apperance,
Cries self to sleep.
Hey, I heard you like the wild ones.
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Re: A story of TW

#385 » Post by Prite » 22 Jan 2016 03:08

Mmeko wrote: guess you also haven't logged in truewow for some time then? :) or you've been playing?

I'm alright, just hop in the forums from time to time to check out this thread :D i did like my character's personality, felt like a pretty faithful transposition of how i behaved ingame :3

e.g.
"Sir...tell me it isn't so?” pleaded Meko.
“Are you sure sir?” asked the scared Meko.
“Thank you, sir.” said Meko reluctantly, as his body trembled with fear.
I just log in every now and then, I haven't played in 10 months or so.. and before that, maybe 2y? So I don't know that many people now, it's sad :/

And about your character's personality, yes, I also felt like Blue captured you quite well :P She's still coldhearted for having you killed (yes Blue, I haven't forgotten about it <3 )

Do you still play?
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Re: A story of TW

#386 » Post by Knewklear » 22 Jan 2016 03:11

They say in entertainment that the best come in last, just like a rogue from the shadows :twisted:
"Speech is my hammer, bang the world into shape, now let it fall." - Mos Def - Hip Hop
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Re: A story of TW

#387 » Post by Bluebell » 23 Jan 2016 03:59

Soon, Kaylie, soon.

People in this chapter:

Spoiler:
Belendor
MadPanda
Doctor J
Ragnorak
Economist
Smeldor
Gnurg


Chapter 29 - Consequences of war
Spoiler:
**Belendor**
“Quickly!” bellowed Belendor pushing through the ranks.

As the Horde battalion stormed Ahn'Qiraj the paladin became increasingly anxious. Every step he took brought him closer to victory and absolution. Knocking over decaying ruins the soldiers marched into the chambers. Bronze statues and ancient flowerpots of the Angelic gardens were tossed aside, having survived the test of time they now lay destroyed at the hands of barbarians.

“Sound the drums! Blow the horns!” commanded Belendor as they drew closer upon the great wooden door at the end of the city.

MadPanda then whispered to him, “Perhaps we should lower the noise, they shall know we come if we sound our trumpets?”

Smiling back, his leader proudly remarked, “I want them to know. I want them to know what is coming for them, let our triumphant call echo around these wretched halls!”

Coming to the huge doors the column stopped. Angrily Belendor pushed through the remaining soldiers to investigate. Throwing them to the side he attempted to open it. The hinges remained stuck and the way in shut. The paladin's grip tightened into a fist.

“No!” he shouted, “It isn't fair! Let me in, damn you!”.

Manically he slammed his fists onto the frail door. Left and then right, repeating numerous times ferociously smashed the decaying woodwork but to no avail. Soldiers went to aid him, but MadPanda called them back, as his men slightly backed away from their leader. Watching him cry out in increasing frustration, his energy waning with every blow.

“It's not fair! Let me in! Let me in so I can kill you!”

Eventually he relented from his assault upon the reluctant structure. His eyes closed as he turned from the door and slowly strolled back towards his men, they parted a path for him as he walked between them. Just then, the doors began to creak open, his feet stopped dead in their tracks in response. Perking his ears up, his eyelids slowly raised, fist still clenched. Slightly, his head then turned around to catch a glimpse of the dark room behind him, as he stood with it in the corner of his eye. His men watched him motionlessly, awaiting their commands.

Suddenly a great gush of wind swooped through the chamber, causing the soldiers to cover themselves, “Only the one who goes as Belendor may enter!” yelled a booming voice from within, “All others shall perish with a foot they place beyond these walls!”

Belendor, still with his back facing from the door, then ordered his men “You take orders from Angels no longer! Free men are we of the Horde! Charge now! Go!”

Nervously his men looked at each other before bracing themselves. The front line cautiously walked into the dark room clutching their weapons, guards up ready for any fights. Patiently the others watched their comrades enter while Belendor's eyes closed once more.

After a few brief moments the Horde soldiers were sent hurtling out of the room. Their bodies devoid of life as they crashed onto the broken floor, steel armour clanging violently against the surface. Belendor then opened his eyes and looked at the next wave of his soldiers. Hesitantly they nodded back, looked at their friends laying on the floor and gulped. Drawing their weapons they sprinted into the chamber. Closing his eyes once more, Belendor listened to their footsteps clatter away.

Within moments of the last entering the dark room and leaving sight, they were sent flying back from whence they came. Belendor's eyes remained firmly shut as his soldiers fell around his feet.

“Belendor!” yelled the voice, causing the Paladin's eyes to spring open, “Come hither, and leave your boys to play outside.”

Within him the anger grew. His breaths became more drawn out and he reached for his sword. Turning to the room, he unpacked it from its sheathe, the cold steel of the dark blade slid against the leather slowly. Around him the soldiers backed away slightly, avoiding the fate of the fallen around them.

Now fully facing the room, he raised his sword into the air, “Only a fool enters defenceless! Alone you order me! Because you are scared! Scared of the power of the Horde! And I take orders from no one! Men, with me, charge!”

Belendor then started running into the room, grabbing the shield from his back. The soldiers reluctantly joined the fray, some overtaking them as the rush for battle got a hold of them. Now every soldier joined as the ranks from the rear bolted forward.

As soon as Belendor entered the chamber, the doors slammed shut behind him. Outside the vast majority of his small army became locked out, while the minor portion inside became trapped. Instantly he swivelled to the door, punching it as hard as he can.

“No!” he exclaimed, his breaths becoming increasingly heavy, “Damn you Angel scum! Where are they! Where is the bloodline!”

Turning back to the main chamber, he attempted to adjust his eyes to the dark surroundings. Suddenly golden light flashed down above and knocked one of his guards flying. Desperately the paladin attempted to fight back, only for the light to vanish. Around him the soldiers bunched together only to be picked off one by one. Their yells for help drowned out as their lives cut short. Around the room the golden trace flickered from side to side drowning the horde men in fear. The screams then dyed out and the torches of the room lit up. Belendor, weapons still gripped, looked around.

On the floor lie his men, scattered and decimated. With little interest of their remains he looked up to see a carpet paving the way to a stone throne. Only one figure could be seen, giant braziers illuminated the whole chamber, yet only the one upon the throne was visible. Belendor's eyes began to glow red as he focused his anger. Roaring, he made for the figure on the seat at great pace, its giant wings overlapped from the throne..

Rushing at his target the enraged paladin picked up speed, his sword ready to fight. As he became within touching distance of the Angel, he lost control. His body became numb, the grip of his sword loosened causing it to drop to the floor. His eyes traced to it plummeting towards the ground, it bounced up, his gaze switched angrily back to the Angel as the sound vibrated around the chamber.

Doctor then stood from his chair, uncloaking his hood. His white staff's gem had begun to glow as Belendor watched him take his time to rise up. The Angel's wings folded back into his back as he approached the paladin.

Tapping his white gem, it swirled like a trapped mist, he told Belendor, “They are gone” his eyes remained fixated on his stone as he tapped some more, “Yes...gone. You won't find them. Not soon anyway. So time we have. Yes. Time to talk”

Belendor's relaxed body suddenly dropped itself. He felt the power around him dissipate and fell to his knees. Looking up, he saw the Angel turn around, seizing the moment the paladin reached for his fallen sword to strike at the foe.

Touching it created a small spark, sending it further away and causing Belendor to retract his hand. Calmly Doctor smiled and sat back down in his stone seat. Inquisitively he looked at the forsaken blade, and then at Belendor, smirking slightly.

“Where are they?!” demanded Belendor.

Tutting back, Doctor replied, “Where did you get that exquisite weapon?”

“Answer me damn you!” commanded Belendor again, rising to his feet.

“Such a weapon of beauty, such craftsmanship. And yet, such evil.” he then continued, “But you know where they have gone. Yes. We both know.”

“The warlock....” murmured Belendor to himself.

“Quite. To find the last blooodline. Funny fellows they are. One likes to shout a lot.”

“You mock me! How do I find them, why are you keeping me here? To stop me getting to them?!”

“I think you would like him. Merkana. Or Mekavania? I think his name goes. Such silly names you people have. Yes, I think you would like him” Doctor rambled.

“Shut up! What are you talking about you fool!” shouted Belendor.

“Ah! No. They are beyond your reach, whether I keep you here or whether you go.”

Increasingly frustrated, Belendor put out both hands in a praying position, “So please. Tell me why I am here!”

“To talk.”

Belendor waited a moment. The Angel seemed to have finished, and began twirling his beard, gazing into the stone upon his staff.

“To talk?” he asked.

“Yes.” answered Doctor, “But about what?”

“About what?”

“Yes.” he replied. much to the frustration of the paladin.

Placing his hand on his forehead, Belendor let out a great sigh. Sitting down on the stone steps, his hands went up into the air asking for help.

“Ok, just. Why me? Why murder my men and yet leave me standing.”

“It really is a funny looking sword. Why does it have green on it? You look better in red.”

“Really? You brought me here to look at my weapon?!” snapped Belendor.

Doctor nodded, “Unlike these sacred halls, you have a future. One I can see so clearly, yet is so clouded.”

“What does that even mean?!”

“You have the power to bring down empires and create the future, yet the past haunts your dreams with visions of what is to come. I see the paths...Only now you are here do I see what must be done fully.”

“With the power that Gorecleave has given me I shall bring do-” proudly shouted Belendor, getting up and looking to his sword.

Doctor interrupted him, “Ah! That's the one. Gorecleave. I remember now. He gave you it. Ah yes. Funny looking guy.”

Pausing for a moment, Belendor continued, “Given me the power to bring down the Angels once and for all!”

“They will do that themselves.” remarked Doctor.

Belendor reached for his sword. Carefully his hand extended, his eyes closed and he felt it enter his grip. No shock or magic pushed it away. Doctor simply watched him rise up and turn back, sword in hand ready.

“The crown of which you wear upon your head is made of whispers and lies.” Doctor told him, “And soon of fire and death. Heavy it is that lies upon you, but lifted and shared by the three it can be.”

“The three? What are you talking about?” Belendor replied, before thinking back to himself, “Ragnorak and Arockalypse? You wish for me to share the burden of our people, the power I have to help with those fools? Perhaps if they do not get in my way they can be of some use...”

Smiling back, Doctor asked “Don't you have someone to be running after?”

“Where are they going next? After they see the warlock?”

“To the fields of crystal and graves of eternity. You know where, Belendor.”

“Exodar..” murmured the paladin.

Doctor then looked into his staff, “Angels....Demons...Horde....Alliance....” he then looked up around the room, “These walls....cities, and empires.” his eyes then looked back down to Belendor before him, “These heroes and leaders, armies and wars. They come and go like whispers in the wind, never heard of again. Nothing remains but one thing.”

“And what's that?” asked Belendor, walking closer.

Staring directly into the Paladin's eyes, Doctor replied with a smile, “Legends.”

Infuriated by the words referring to the ancient bloodlines, Belendor jabbed towards the Angel. His sword glowed green as it sped towards Doctor. Confidently, he simply smiled back and looked at Belendor smiling. The staff disappeared, instantly as the blade began to pierce the robes in slow motion. Before blood was spilled, Doctor appeared to vanish. His robes fell down in the seat where he took residence, yet his body left existence.

Belendor retracted his sword. He inspected it carefully, and realised Doctor was gone not by his own hand, but beyond this realm.

“Damn you, old man.” he said quietly, “Damn you!” he then yelled.

Around him the walls began to collapse. The doors crept open to reveal his men still trying to get in. Marching towards them, the pillars started falling down giving way to the ceiling above. As he stepped slowly forward, the ground crumbled. His men rushed to him, before backing off seeing the destruction. Many started to flee out of the decaying city.

Belendor finally reached the exit of the room. Seemingly not caring for the falling rubble around him. MadPanda attempted to pull him out as stones crashed down around them.

“What happened? Did you find them? Is it over?” asked the second in command.

Eyes remaining focused forward, Belendor replied, “We're going to the Exodar.”

**Ragnorak**
Slamming his fists upon his chair, Ragnorak signalled the ending to another council meeting. The room trembled in fear at his increasing outbursts, as the city was on high alert. Standing up, he threw his cup violently onto the floor sending wine spilling out.

“Enough!” he demanded before panting in rage, “I have had enough of this damned rebellion!”

Stepping forward, Economist passed him the recent report of the last out breaks. Uprisings had become more common as the notion of Stormwind freedom swept through the city. Decreased ranks of Ragnorak's men did little to hold back the tides of rebellions sweeping the people of Stormwind. His calls for more men from Orgrimmar fell on death ears, while his demonic ally had gone quiet.

“And what of Marick?” he asked, grabbing the scroll.

As Ragnorak read the notes, Economist informed him, “Lord Marick has a lack of conviction after the battle at Light's Chapel. He has sent a handful of troops to assist in the holding of the city, and his regards with them but not-”


“His regards. He sends. His regards?” answered Ragnorak, still staring at the note as his voice heightened in volume, “His regards?! What good are they!” he suddenly crunched the paper and threw it to the floor.

Economist paused for a moment, “Not enough for us to prolong the fight against them. He has promised reinforcements in due course, but for now we will have to do. I can request more from Arockalypse and his brother Darchow if you wish. Perhaps, though, we could make an agreement with them? A pact if you will?”

The room fell silent. Everyone awaited Ragnorak's response, their bodies perfectly still in anticipation.

“A pact?” he asked. His head slowly looking towards his advisor, “A pact with the rebels?” his voice then turned to yelling, “A pact with the Stormwind scum?! Have you lost your mind?”

“I just thought we could-”

Through a narrow window slit, a soaring arrow interrupted Economist. Flying through the air it dropped just in front of the throne at Ragnorak's feet. Around it, a parchment was wrapped. Ragnorak knelt down and uncovered it to reveal the banner of Stormwind on one side, and Ironforge on the other.

Showing the banner to the room, Ragnorak then began to yell “The years we had to endure with them looking down at us. Generations of our countrymen sneered at for the crests we wear with pride! Now we have them grovelling at their feet and you just thought we could make peace? At our moment of victory? Do you not remember them parading in their white and shiny armour? Their mocking upon snatching the ancient relic of eternity from our grasps? I say no! We shall not give in to these petty vandals! Orgrimmar will rule over Stormwind, whether they let us or not.”

A small group of council members then began to applaud. Only to promptly stop when Ragnorak glared at their direction, placing their hands behind their bodies and looking innocent. Regardless, the room had begun to swell with Horde pride.

“And so, what would you have us do, sir?” asked Economist.

Thinking for a moment, Ragnorak smiled and looked down at the arrow message, “Do we still have the one from Ironforge? The one they call the dwarf?”

“Smeldor?” replied the second in command, “Yes. He is locked up in the dungeons, captured from the battle.”

The leader's grin grew, “Good. We shall prepare a grand execution of their beloved leader. Show them what happens to those that stand against the might of Orgrimmar.”

From the shadows, Gnurg gasped, “Smeldor...” she said to herself.

Turning to her, Ragnorak looked up, before inspecting the parchment once more, “Yes...Yes that's a good idea. What better way to separate the two cities and their people than to have one leader kill another?”

“What?” asked Gnurg reluctantly.

Manically Ragnorak cackled back, “You. You will kill him, in a grand ceremony at the centre of Stormwind. A fitting end to this rebellion, the hand of Stormwind wielding the fist of Orgrimmar, cutting off the head of Ironforge. It's so poetic.”

Gnurg went numb with anxiety as Ragnorak continued to laugh. The council then drew up plans and budgets to orchestrate the transportation of the Ironforge King. For soon, his sacrifice was at hand.
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Re: A story of TW

#388 » Post by Gnurg » 25 Jan 2016 23:57

[hide]Woooooo! I get to murder Smeldor just as I requested 6+ months ago. :twisted:[/hide]
Nice read as always. :>
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Re: A story of TW

#389 » Post by Kniteknite » 26 Jan 2016 00:48

Gnurg wrote:[hide]Woooooo! I get to murder Smeldor just as I requested 6+ months ago. :twisted:[/hide]
Nice read as always. :>
/agree ~ BTW , since it's still January and I can still get away with it , Happy new Year as well ! :D
French fries are like steaks, where the potato is the cow and gets cut up, like meat does, only on a smaller scale

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Wilcox
Posts: 1586
Joined: 16 Dec 2012 13:37
Location: Kebabland

Re: A story of TW

#390 » Post by Wilcox » 26 Jan 2016 09:11

during the execution wild wilcox jumps in and mass rapes everybody

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