A story of TW

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Prite
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Re: A story of TW

#391 » Post by Prite » 27 Jan 2016 10:06

Wilcox wrote:during the execution wild wilcox jumps in and mass rapes everybody
what.the.fuck o.O
Gnurg wrote:[hide]Woooooo! I get to murder Smeldor just as I requested 6+ months ago. :twisted:[/hide]
Nice read as always. :>
Also yeah, about that, I forgot to tell you, seemed like a pretty evil plan from Ragnorak, it was a good twist, I did not see it coming
*cough* maybe cause I'm not cold hearted like like *cough* :P
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Bluebell
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Re: A story of TW

#392 » Post by Bluebell » 03 Feb 2016 00:29

I'm not cold hearted. I simply give the people what they want. And they want blood!

People in this chapter
Spoiler:
Crescendo
Bluebell
Merkava
Gnurg
Etro
Ragnorak
Teraan
Chapter 30 – The lost city
Spoiler:
**Blackluster**

Soaring high in the skies, Doctor's white dragon flew the trio to their destination. Descending through the clouds the mighty beast plummeted. Fluffs of dust filled the air before the ground came into sight.

Suddenly the mount began to speed up, dive bombing towards the grassy looms below. Noticing the increasing speed, Blackluster clung onto the neck, his muscles tensing as the wind struck against his face. Seeing the ground becoming increasingly close he closed his eyes and screamed in fear.

“Would you be quiet?” demanded Merkava sternly, whilst Teraan simply laughed behind them.

Just then the dragon stopped dramatically and fluttered its wings violently. Hovering above the ground it set down to land and Blackluster slowly opened his eyes. Teraan and Merkava got off and unpacked their supplies and weapons while the warrior remained gripped to the dragon.

Shaking, he carefully removed his body from the neck, Teraan helped him down while Merkava simply grunted and turned his back. His feet then touched the ground, the left one first as he let out a sigh of relief, being firmly rooted to the earth.

Smiling, he gently patted the dragon on the head causing it to turn its large orange eyes in his direction. Shaking once more, the warrior stared back before the dragon let out a grey roar and lifted its wings high into the air. Blackluster jumped back in shock and crawled a bit away. Teraan laughed in response, as the dragon flew back into the air away from the group.

“Wait! Come back! Where is he going?!” asked Blackluster, waving his hands after the retreating dragon.

“Calm yourself, fool. The way is over here.” murmured Merkava beginning to walk away.

“He is going to rest. I think forever.” replied Teraan, “Come, let's go Blackluster, we have much to see”.

Watching the majestic animal disappear into the horizon, Blackluster nodded and picked up his equipment. Around him he noticed they had landed in a small clearing surrounded by trees, in what appeared to be a forest. The lush green had overgrown, yet a darkness tingled on his neck, something seemed not quite right. Turning to the others, Blackluster looked up.

“Where did that come from?!” he gasped noticing the city appear before him.

Sighing back, Merkava replied “It was there the whole time you fool. You were too busy hurting my ears to see it, perhaps use your eyes next time.”

“It's the city of Lorderan”, explained Teraan as they continued towards the walls, “An old human settlement I think. Not much is left of it.”

In front of them huge stone walls arose from the forest, parts of them crumbling. A battered gate was ripped open at the centre, while structures could be made out from within. The air filled with cold as they approached the city and Blackluster shuddered.

“Do both of you seriously know nothing?” snapped Merkava, causing Teraan and Blackluster to stop in their tracks, “What did they teach you in Orgrimmar anyway? Anything useful about the history of our world?”

“They taught us how to fight, perhaps that would have been useful for your Stormwind brethren?” retorted Teraan angrily.

Merkava smirked back, “Tell me again, Teraan. What happened to the brave fighting paladins of Orgrimmar?”

Teraan began to draw his sword, “Oh, you better not have.”

“Wait wait! Wait!” screamed Blackluster, placing his hand on Teraan's sheath, “What has got between you two? Where did all that hostility come from?”

The two Paladins took deep breaths, and placed their weapons back into their holders. Nodding in agreement with the Paladin they looked each other in the eyes before returning to their journey.

“It is this place. Corrupted by eons of darkness and those that reside here.” Merkava went on, “I'll fill in the gaps your basic education may not have taught you. Long ago, in the days before the Chosen, Lorderan was a thriving city. Some considered it the crown jewel of the human empire. A civilization that spanned the entire Eastern continent. A prime target for those that sought to destroy our people. When the Demons arrived, they laid siege to its walls for days, weeks maybe even months. That much is not known, all that is known is the suffering that occurred inside these wretched city limits.

Placing his hand on a cold slab of the wall, Merkava sighed. Ducking his head he appeared to look down in regret. Teraan then placed his hand comfortingly on Merkava's shoulder.

“And then what?” inquired Blackluster eagerly, causing Teraan to look at him in despair for breaking the ice in such a situation, “What?” asked the warrior in return.

Taking a deep breath, Merkava left off the wall and walked through the gate, “It is said Lorderan was left to burn, while the joint forces of humanity and Angel kind launched a counter offensive at the fields of Icecrown. By the time the battle was won and the heroes returned to save the city, the demons had left. All that remained was the corrupted citizens or decaying bodies. The city was forgotten, left to ruin so the nightmares of that time may never return.”

“So...why are we here?” asked Blackluster.

The group were now past the main entrance of the city. A decaying cobble pathway led through the rubble. Derelict houses and overgrown shrubbery littered the scenery, looking up the sky seemed to have turned dark and night dawned.

“A few years ago, new habitants took up the city. Warlocks, individuals who practice the dark arts and dabble in demonic magic. The area was ripe with corruption, tainted by the atrocities that took place on these grounds. Along with the will of humanity to never venture here, it became the perfect sanctuary for the creatures of darkness.”

“Ok, but that doesn't answer my question. Quite the opposite in fact. If we're running from demons, and demons are bad. Why do we come to a site where their friends live?” asked Blackluster.

Merkava sighed and stood still in the centre of the main garden, “Evidently your attention span is lacklustre as your fighting skills. Warlocks and Demons are not the same. They draw from the same power, but they are not aligned. More than likely they share the same goals, maybe they do communicate, but our reports show the warlocks although dangerous, seem neutral. Dark conjurers have been around for generations, but they only became a force in our time. Decades ago, the descendant of Bluebell, a former paladin by the name of Crescendo, left the Chapel Order to practice these beliefs, and took a handful with her. Journeying to the ancient city, she set up a home for those with similar minds. Now, we need her just as we need you. Let us pray she comes peacefully with us.”

“Pray?” asked a female voice from around them, it seemed to echo throughout the city, “Is that all you do Merky?” it joked.

Instantly Teraan and Merkava drew their swords, while Blackluster paused for a moment before following suit. The three looked around the empty city halls as the darkness above grew deeper. Spinning around their eyes scanned the decaying city for clues.

“Traitor!” shouted Merkava, turning his tone from the previous calm.

“Show yourself!” demanded Teraan, gripping his blade in preparation.

Laughing then bellowed around the city and a green spiral twirled on a roof in front of them. Behind the glowing green smoke, a staff wielding woman stood. Dressed in a long robe she proudly looked down at them, dark green tainted her colours while dabs of orange triangles decorated it. A glowing purple orb resided atop her staff as she held it as her side, smirking at the trio.”

“Here I am” she joked at them, “But I don't do peacefully” winking the warlock then disappeared in a smoke of green once more.

Blackluster looked back up in bemusement, while the two paladins nodded at each other causing golden wings of light to blaze from their backs. Preparing for her arrival, they raised their swords and watched the surrounding city.

“She looked nice!” said Blackluster awkwardly.

Breaking the atmosphere, the two paladins looked back him in confusion, before returning to their stoic position.

**Gnurg**


Venturing through the Stormwind keep on route to her chambers, the Stormwind commander noticed a dimly lit room down a narrow passageway. Pausing briefly, and looking around for any Orgrimmar guards, she decided to investigate. Gently she walked down the stone spiral staircase, trying to mask the tapping of her shoes on the cold floor.

Reaching the bottom of the winding staircase, Gnurg reached a wooden door slightly ajar. Placing her ears onto the timber she felt splinters brush into her lobes before hearing frantic scribbling from inside.

“No no...That won't do.” she heard a voice murmured inside, before muffled words, “This? Yes. This might do” the voice continued.

Pushing the door open Gnurg entered the room, unsure of what she would find in this hidden room, the light shone through the cracks in the door before unleashing into the corridor. A figure, back arched over the table, suddenly stopped all actions and looked straight up to her.

After a brief moment, the figure said to her, “Ah, Lady Gnurg. You had me momentarily worried, please, take a seat.” he then gestured to a vacant stool.

Slowly sitting down, Gnurg looked around the room. Bookcases pinned against the wall while their residents littered the floor. The table she sat had held layers of paper, with scribblings and drawings covering them. Around her feet, she noticed scrunched up pieces filling the stone floor.

“Etro?” she asked, realising who this mysterious figure was, “Is it you? What are you doing up so late in this place?”

Scrambling to pick up parchments from around the table, Etro replied “This is where I reside. The place our glorious new leader has decided to keep me. And now, he wishes for me to write a report on the execution you are to do tomorrow. An article for the whole of Stormwind to read what great success it has been.”

Picking up a piece of paper with the symbol of Stormwind and Ironforge attached to it, Gnurg asked the writer, “How can you already know what is going to happen? Perhaps I back out, yet you write that I commit the act?”

Snatching the paper from Gnurg's grip, Etro replied “That's the beauty of journalism, my fair lady. You make sure the news goes as you plan it. And anyway, we wouldn't want to spoil the great Ragnorak's plans now, would we?” he smiled.

Sitting still in her chair, the Stormwind leader watched him hide the last parchment deep within a folder and pushed it out of sight. He then picked up his quill and dipped into his bowl of ink, before looking back up to her.

“Now I'm sure you have plenty of sleep to catch up on before the big day .” he sarcastically told her.

Slightly irritated, Gnurg stepped up and grunted at him. Pushing her chair back into the table, purposely screeching it along the cold slabs beneath, she did a jolt of a smile back at him before turning for the door. Upon reaching the exit, she turned back, his head already focused back onto his work. Frantic scribbling returned, before his ears perked up and his hand froze.

“You know” she told him, “I thought your talks of a free press may lead you not to collude with these invaders. And that I may not be alone in this citadel of horror. Seems I was wrong, and you are but a slave to the plans of the mad man.”

“Careful, lady Gnurg” replied Etro, “Those words can lead you to the grave of Rohan. And I am a slave to no one man, but to every man. I do not kneel in the throne room like your illustrious self, or follow the whim of such a creature. My duty is to inform the people of Stormwind of what has happened and what is to come, but are we all people of Stormwind, lady Gnurg?”

She scoffed once more at his riddles before leaving and slamming the door behind her. As her shoes stomped up the stone staircase, he smirked and chuckled to himself, and then the sound of pen and paper echoed throughout the room once more.

**Blackluster**


Standing behind the two Paladins, who were now fully focused on the area around them, Blackluster reached for his weapons. Nervously he unpacked his shield and unsheathed his blade, holding them out on guard. Scanning the city, it creaked with age as great statues now resembled rocks, his head flicked from side to side to see pebbles fall off the decaying structures. An eerie silence permeated throughout the holdings with the trio becoming increasingly concerned.

Green smoke then sprung up in front of the two paladins. Before they could react, a staff swung into Merkava's chin sending him flying backwards into a pile or rubble. Defensively Teraan raised his sword while Crescendo in front slammed the staff into the ground, sending vibrations throughout which rocked Blackluster to the ground. Teraan stumbled backwards, regaining his composure the warlock swept her staff at his feet, crashing him onto his back.

Looking behind her, Crescendo saw the alliance paladin crawling out of the rocks and to his feet. She smiled as Blackluster got up, disappearing momentarily into a haze of smoke before appearing above him. His eyes opened wide as he looked straight at her. A black ponytail fluttered on her head, while he stared into her glowing purple eyes. As he froze in place, she tapped her staff against his chest, his eyes looked down to it to see a purple glow circle from the front of the staff towards the tip. The energy quickly reached the orb on the edge, the warrior looked back up at her as it did. She simply smiled back, and instantly Blackluster felt a force push him backwards. A purple shot propelled his body flying back towards the gate.

Turning back to the two recovering paladins she vanished once more and appeared in front of the sprinting Merkava. He stopped suddenly as flickers of green covered his view, and then began swinging his sword. Blocking every attack she held him off, stepping back slightly as he relentlessly pushed on. Teraan managed to get to his feet, sword in hand he joined the fray on the opposite side.

Ducking their blows Crescendo continued fighting, as Teraan went for an attack she pushed his blade down, and jabbed Merkava in the face with the tip of her stave. Swirling her staff in the air she then slammed it against Teraan forcing him back. Confidently she then strolled over the fallen Merkava.

“Ahhh!” screamed Blackluster running to help his friends.

Crescendo simply looked down at Merkava and continued her walk, her hand lifting up slightly towards the oncoming warrior. Purple magic skittered around her, and Blackluster once more got thrown backwards out of the fight. Stretching his arm, the paladin reached for his sword but she knocked it from his hands, placing the orb on his chest she smiled, releasing her stern look momentarily.

“Hi Merky!”, her solemn face then returned as she spun around.

Blocking up high from Teraan, and then again to the side, she twirled around and swept his feet away. As he fell to the ground she quickly slammed her staff into his chest, sending him onto his back faster, with such force he felt his body bounce on the stone floor..

Merkava finally regained his feet, and prepared for a final attack, already weakened from the previous bout. As he reached the warlock she simply turned in an instant, and placed her weapon on his chest. The paladin's feet then left the ground, his body soared backwards before slamming down. Purple chains constricted him and rooted him firmly still, while his wings disappeared from his back giving in to the dark essence.

Crescendo sighed, and looked over to see Blackluster once more galloping towards her. Her gaze darted down to his legs, she squinted briefly and then smiled back as her purple eyes began to glow. Blackluster felt his body go heavy, his legs struggled to hold him up and his pace slowed. He could barely walk as he became exhausted suddenly and attempted to crawl towards the two paladins.

“What...what are you?” asked Teraan, the last remaining member of the trio standing up and pointing his blade towards her.

Without responding, Crescendo blinked towards him, appearing in front instantly. As he gripped his blade, she knocked it from his hands, and thrust him backwards with her staff. Collapsing onto the floor, purple chains wrapped around him keeping him firmly on the ground, sucking the energy from his wings.

Merkava struggled to get up, but the magic pushed back stronger every time he tried. The chains moved around him, constantly wrapping onto his armour and burning at a touch.

“Told you I could take them!” announced Crescendo triumphantly, putting her arms in an open expression.

A large gust of green smoke sprung up in the centre of the city, twirling like a tornado as Blackluster coughed slightly and covered his eyes. Opening them he looked over to Merkav and saw the paladin desperately trying to reach his sword, only to be constricted even more by the pressing chains. As the cover faded, two figures emerged, and what looked like two more warlocks.
Last edited by Bluebell on 03 Feb 2016 00:58, edited 2 times in total.
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Etro
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Re: A story of TW

#393 » Post by Etro » 03 Feb 2016 00:46

Dat cliffhanger, tho.

Also, I noticed Etro went through a sex transformation in the middle of the conversation with Gnurg, which is fine, I'd say. Etro, is now a belf dude in-game, if you'd like to continue calling Etro a he. I mean, Etro is so manly, like, damn. No one that has seen him would understand why you'd call him a she. His manhood is evident, like literally.

I hope luster dies, jk jk.
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Longi
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Re: A story of TW

#394 » Post by Longi » 03 Feb 2016 01:17

can we have all episodes in one place ?


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Blacklustersoldier
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Re: A story of TW

#395 » Post by Blacklustersoldier » 03 Feb 2016 06:04

I won't die! me and crescendo will fall in love and have a baby! who will become the hero true wow needs right now, not the one it deserves!

But yes I love the fact that I am not a sitting scared child, I am actually doing something :l
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Bluebell
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Re: A story of TW

#396 » Post by Bluebell » 05 Feb 2016 00:13

Ew.

Anyway....

People in this chapter

Spoiler:
Merkava
Crescendo
Mileva
Royal
HappyPanda
Belendor
Teraan
Blackluster


Chapter 31 - Revelations
Spoiler:
****
Merkava
****


Firmly held against the cold floor, the paladin struggled to be free. Every ounce of strength pushing against the purple magic, only for it to force him back down. Around him weeds trickled in the stone patchwork, overrunning the city. Gazing over to the haze of green, he noticed the two figures.

“Not bad” said a voice from behind the veil, “But could have been better.”

“You beat up three clowns” jived the second, figure, “Great job.”

As the dust cleared the two became more clear. The first was a lean male with long black hair, while the second was a short female with pink piggy tails sprouting out. The chains around Merkava and Teraan slipped into the ground releasing them, as they gasped for air. Getting to their feet and dusting themselves down, they stared at awe of the three warlocks.

“They put up a good fight” protested Crescendo, ignoring the two paladins.

“How was that a good fight? You just put up a bad fight, they merely looked good by comparison” replied the female warlock, “You could have finished the fight with two blows. Well, I could have.”

“I didn't want to hurt them, not too much, anyway” she retorted, walking over to the other two.

“Well that's your problem” scoffed the female.

“Excuse me” interrupted Teraan, “Anyone care to let us know what is going on? Who are you people?

The three warlocks turned their heads towards the paladins, as Blackluster regained strength and join back up with them. For a moment, the two groups of three simply stared back at each other before the silence was finally broken.

“So they come to our home, uninvited, and then ask us whom we are? The insolence!” complained the male warlock.

Responding, the shorter one said “I told you paladins were dumb. What more can you expect from them? Their heads are filled with heroic tales of pretty flying creatures of light, no room for logic in there.”

“What did you say?” angrily asked Merkava, reaching again for his sword before seeing Crescendo glare at him, causing him to obediently retract.

“Please, be nice to the guests.” Crescendo told everyone, “This is Royal and Mileva” she pointed first towards the short warlock, and then to the taller one, “Together we make up the leadership of the warlock council, and the strongest wielders of its power.”

“You mean I'm the most powerful and you two just follow me around to make me look good” remarked Royal.

Mileva shook his head, “Always got to act so big, little one don't you?”

“Words words words...Anyway can we kill one?” questioned the impatient Royal.

“No!” shouted Crescendo, “No killing today.”

Blackluster took a step back in fear, while the two paladins stood hovered over their weapons reluctantly.

“Awww, come on. You're no fun. What about just that one?” she pointed at Blackluster.

In response the warrior pointed at himself, and panic took a hold. Looking to his two guards, despair gripped his face in the hope they would save him from this tiny foe.

Crescendo sighed and looked up into the sky, “No. We need him. I told you he needs to reach the Exodar. We can't kill him.”

Royal smiled with glee, “Great! So we don't need the other two? Thanks for letting me know!”

Her hand then began to glow brightly with a dark, purple ball of energy. Wickedly she stared at the two paladins, picking her target. In response they could only stand and wait, biting their lips.

Mileva then pushed his hand onto Royal's, limiting the purple energy ball. He looked down at her, and then over to Crescendo.

“We agreed we would allow her to do this, after all it's her master plan in the end.”

Reluctantly, Royal let go of the energy, “Fine” she told him, “But next time we do my plan. And I get to kill something.”

The three let out a great sigh of relief as tension left the air. Crescendo then happily clapped her hands, staff now attached to her back.

“Ok! Now that all the anger is gone, we can get down to business. So! You two, the glowing ones. I understand you spoke to the one they call the prophet? And you come to me for me to assist you?”

“How did you...” asked Teraan shocked.

“This isn't going to work if you ask questions in response to my own questions.” replied Crescendo cutting him off, “You wish for me to come with you?”

“Yes” answered Merkava, “We need you to come, and then we venture to find Virdo, the last bloodline.”

“Virdo?” Crescendo smirked back.

“The one true leader of Orgrimmar, and last boodline of Discarnate” proudly remarked Teraan.

Crescendo laughed back, “Yes, I know he is the leader of your silly little city.” causing Teraan to scowl, “But you need him not, the necklace you wear carries the blood of the original, does it not?”

“Yes, but we may need more than ju-”

“Great. That is all you need.” she then walked towards the three with a red vial, “This is the blood from the line of Bluebell, use it wisely”

“Who's blood is it?” asked Blackluster, “Did you kill someone for it?”

Sighing, Royal told him “It's hers, you dummy. Her own blood that she's giving you, she's nice like that.”

“Oh!” gasped the warrior in amazement.

Crescendo looked over to Blackluster, he stared back admiring her complexion and flowing hair. He smiled innocently at her, causing her to smile back menacingly. Strolling over to him, she raised her eye brow , their vision locked as he longed into her deep purple eyes.

Shocked by his good fortune, he began to tremble. Just then she lent in for a kiss. His lips began to stutter as he closed his eyes in anticipation. Moments before they touched, Crescendo smiled and blow into him. She then turned back around to the two Paladins.

Eyes firmly shit, Blackluster bit his tongue waiting the moment. Holding back the smile as he felt her cold breath against his trembling lips.

Merkava accepted the vial, before asking, “Tell me, warlocks, why do you help us? You worship the same deities as the demons, your power draws from the same evil base. You sit here in the valley of a scared land, ravished by the demons bathing in their former glory. So why do you help us?”

Realising she was no longer stood in front, and he had not had a kiss, he slowly opened one eye, and then the other.

Crescendo smiled, “There are things you do not know, Merkava. Not all it as it seems, our differences are not as great as you may believe, our goals perhaps aligned.”

Attempting to talk, Blackluster began to open his mouth, but quickly realised his lips had been sealed shut. He waved his hands around in the background frantically for attention, grabbing his mouth to try force it open.

“What did you do to him?” asked Teraan pointing at the warrior behind.

“Oh. He talked too much. Or too much foolish nonsense anyway. I couldn't stand it much longer, so I put a silence curse on him. Don't worry,” she smiled, “it will wear off once you leave the city.”

Unable to grasp still, the Merkava continued, “But you were once from the chapel. A chapel your great ancestor Bluebell built, and yet you throw it all away to worship the scum of the world and betray the Angels who protect us?”

“Ha!” laughed Royal loudly, “You insignificant little paladin. How foolish you are I could wipe you from existence and not even your friends would blink an eye. You talk so much yet know so little!”

Mileva cut in once more to hold the small warlock back, “Calm yourself, Royal. They may be ignorant but they are still guests, try to take this ordeal more seriously.”

Scowling, Royal began to speak once more, “Serious? Fine. I'll be serious. Tell me, paladin. Who was it that blackened the skies of Lorderan?”

The group then looked up into the air. Black clouds covered it and no sun was permitted through. Only darkness reigned above and set the tone for a desolate land.

Royal continued, “Who was it paladin, that cut the crown of the ancient human empire? Who was it that set humanity back, trembling into the darkness? Years of progress set back generations by one little war. Demons? Oh, yes. Their crimes were great, they tore the greatest city our people built apart. But not as great as the crimes against our race. Against humanity. Oh, no. Not all is at it seems, paladin. But soon. Yes I feel it, soon the truth shall be heard.”

The small warlock had started walking slightly forward as she spoke, Merkava spouted back “What slander do you concoct warlock? What stories do you weave?”
Royal began to hiss back, before Mileva stepped in once more, “You wished to know why Crescendo left the order? The story is grim, of ancient truths unlocked.”

“They don't need to know” Crescendo told the other two warlocks, “They will soon find out themselves.”

Mileva smiled back, “We both know the little one won't stop talking now.”

Rolling her eyes, Crescendo wavered for Royal to continue, “Did you ever wonder” she asked, “Paladin. Why the city states were not aligned? What purpose is it to have two factions of Horde and Alliance? So long ago, I'm sure you've read, humanity lived in peace, together as one. And then the darkness came, Demons from a far! Do you know from whence they came, paladin?”

The two paladins shook their heads together, all three of the group shaking in fear as the darkness above seemed to grow.

“The land of Icecrown” replied Mileva, “It is a cold place to the North. The land beneath the city of Dalaran.”

Angrily Royal turned to him, “Do not interrupt my story!” causing Mileva to bow back, “They come from the same plains your beloved Angels hail from. Now why would they come to fight unto us? The Angels, oh they are so brave, so great and shiny! Do you know from where their power derives? Their ancient secrets locked away, so they thrive off us. You and I, anyone who may worship them gives them power. Yes, when the great counter attack at Blackrock mountain was launched, whose idea was it? The great human generals or our beloved gods in the sky?”

“They did what was needed!” shouted Merkava, “Together the Angels and humanity pushed deep into the mountains to crush the demons.”

“Yes,” replied Royal, “But at what cost, paladin? Tell me, was it Lorderan or Dalaran that was sacrificed? How far did that sacrifice take us? How many years did humanity take to recover from their decision to lose Lorderan? But didn't we feel grateful when the Angels helped us build ourselves back?”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Teraan, still confused.

“Enough!” demanded Crescendo, “These are tales for another time. Now, it is time to take your leave.”

“But there is so much we can discuss, and it is still night.” said Teraan back to them.

“If you don't leave now, the little one burn you.” joked Mileva.

The two paladins looked down at Royal, who simply glared angrily back at them. Nodding to the warlocks, they began to turn and leave the city. Blackluster waved back, while the warlocks simply folded their arms and watched them leave.

As they reached the city gate, Blackluster turned back to see the three. However he noticed they had vanished, and only green swirling smoke remained.

“Finally!” he said, “I can talk. Oh boy that was scary! What do you guys think? Where are we going?”

Merkava frowned, “Exodar. We told you. To the very south”

“How long do we have to walk for? Is it far? My feet are starting to hurt now...” complained Blackluster.

Sighing back, he replied “About two days walk. We must hurry, for we shall not be the only ones venturing there.” he then muttered, “I wish they taught us that curse at the chapel...”

Replying back, Teraan went “Was that all of the warlocks? I thought they were in greater numbers. Strong yes, but low in population”

“More underground and beyond the first walls.” said Merkava, “How many? We don't know, let's just hope they help us in the future. We may need it.”

The three then left on the way to the Exodar, taking with them the vial of Bluebell's blood. Their quest was nearly at an end as the moon finally came into light, illuminating the skies in contrast to the darkness over Lorderan.

****
Belendor
****


“Ahhhhhhh” screamed Belendor from his bed, every night the horrors of his dreams returned to torment his sleep.

“Sir, sir!” MadPanda banged on his cabin door, “Sir are you alright in there?”

Unrelenting from his slumber, Belendor remained in deep sleep. Tossing and turning from side to side his mind exploded in pain at every moment.

Suddenly MadPanda broke through into the room, smashing down the door with his shoulder. There he saw his leader, pulsating with pain in his bed.

“Lord Belendor!” he shouted, holding him firmly to steady the paladin's movement, “Are you ok? Another nightmare?”

Grunting, Belendor then looked up, his eyes shot open instantly. Shivering slightly, he then became perfectly still, glaring at MadPanda.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, “I have commanded you before not to enter my chambers! What reason for it? Are we there?”

Concerned, MadPanda replied, “Your shouts and screams vibrate throughout the whole ship, sir. This one seemed worse than usual. I can get the druids of Thunderbluff for medical aid when we're ashore if you want?”

“Bah!” scoffed Belendor, “Foul herbal magic has no place in this world. Are we there yet?”

“Perhaps you should come upstairs to see” replied MadPanda.

The Orgrimmar officer then left the chamber to go up on to the top of the ship. Belendor sat upright in bed, listening to each footstep pad up the ship's interior. After a few moment he grabbed his armour and dressed over his garments. Equipping his sword he followed upwards.

Undoing the hatch at the crux of the staircase, he was met with belting rain. Climbing onto the deck his face was pelted by the harsh conditions of weather. Scanning the floor of the ship he saw the water bouncing fiercely along the wooden planks, meanwhile the ship itself rocked vigorously from up and down as the sea fought back. Splashing over each side came large waves crashing back down on to the ship surface. Desperately deckhands scuttled around trying to stem the influx of water while the skies above thundered with lightning and booming sounds.

“Sir!” shouted MadPanda, barely audible over the sound of the elements.

Belendor simply ignored him. Returning to stare straight forward, his face expressionless despite the constant harass of pouring rain above, like a waterfall it continued to drown the ship.

“Sir the conditions are getting worse, perhaps we should turn back to port? We can still make it to Theramore in a day.”

Oblivious, the corrupted Paladin snapped his attention to the skies. His eyes narrowed and he glared into the dark clouds above, before he pointed up with his hand.

“Did you see that?” he asked quickly.

MadPanda followed his hand up and squinted, “See what, sir?” he asked, while rain struck into his eyes.

“And there! And there!” he started spinning around, pointing to the skies.

After a few attempts, the officer gave up and ceased following the paladins motions. Walking up close to him he patted his shoulder.

“Sir, you are perhaps seeing things. We should turn back, the ship may not make it through the night. It is as if the waters are pushing us back.”

Resuming his attention to his second in command, Belendor replied, “Give up? Are you insane? Look to the skies! The Angels! It's them. I know it. I see them. I see through their tricks and magic, they are trying to stop us, we are so close to victory. Look!” he pointed back up the the blackened clouds.

MadPanda sighed and looked back up, “Sir, there is nothing there. Just the dreary clouds of the mid-sea skies.”

Aggravated, the paladin responded, “Are you calling me crazy? Paranoid? You know what that would mean?”

Hesitantly, the soldier backed off, “No, sir. Not at all. I would never do such a thing. I am simply saying there are other factors in the world than the power of the Angels.”

Belendor calmed down. He sighed and looked around the ship again. Lightning bolts struck down across the raging tides and thunder echoed above.

“How long until we make shores and can reach Exodar? One day?”

“This weather has created setbacks, sir, perhaps it will now take.” he was interrupted.

“Setbacks?!” screeched Belendor, “Those damn Angels! I knew it! It's them! How long? How long will it take?”

He began to clinch his fits tightly, his eyes becoming bloodshot red as his teeth gritted.

MadPanda began to stutter, “I...I think it will now take...erm...two days...maybe two and a half...”

“Make it two, or someone will pay. We must get to that place before they do. We must be ready for them.”

“But sir, we cannot sail fast enough under these conditions.”

Belendor then grabbed his office and pulled him closer. His eyes pulsating with a red glow, his body shaking while rain hammered onto the two.

“We will get there before the human traitors. No matter what.” he commanded.

“Y...ye....yes sir” murmured MadPanda.

Relinquishing his grip, Belendor began walking towards his quarters. Angrily he stomped back down into the lower deck, as his crew struggled to keep the ship simply afloat. MadPanda gulped to himself and closed his eyes, his breath becoming heavy. Taking one final deep breath, he prepared himself to get the Orgrimmar vessel out of the storm, and to Exodar as quickly as possible.
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Re: A story of TW

#397 » Post by Jiranthos » 05 Feb 2016 00:34

I'm not in this :(

I remember you asked me advice in-game about your work. I hope the advice came in handy. :) And your storytelling really is getting better, in my opinion. Keep practicing! :)

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Re: A story of TW

#398 » Post by Blacklustersoldier » 05 Feb 2016 06:35

The kiss would've shut me up forever.. just sayin D:

But I feel like I am being a dumbed down character with every passing chapter xD
I mean I started as a soldier of sw and over the course of the story I end up being nothing but a nuisance D:
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Re: A story of TW

#399 » Post by Bluebell » 06 Feb 2016 22:15

Well, when I rewrite it, I'm going to have you as a noble man of Stormwind, rather than a warrior. That should make the transaction seem better.

People in this chapter:

Spoiler:
Merkava
Teraan
Blackluster
Ragnorak
Etro
Belendor
MadPanda
Gnurg
Intervention
Tia
Kraith
Peithne
Kindzadza

Bluebell
Stray
Roel
Crescendo

Discarnate


Chapter 32 - The Graveyard of the Angels
Spoiler:
****
Merkava
****
Staggering over the lush green hills the trio finally saw the great structure of the Exodar. Huge gems resonated from inside, pulsating upwards into the sky. Their magnificent purple colour lighting up the area it seemed to be cut from nature itself.

“It's beautiful” exclaimed Teraan, examining it from afar.

Finally the three reached the entrance, looking up the size seemed daunting as purple strands of shining jewels made up its walls hundreds of feet into the air. They then came to a large double sided door made of iron. Along the top a golden inscription curved around it from a language not of humanity.

“What's that?” asked Blackluster, pointing upwards.

The two paladins inspected the writing. Unable to reach high enough to touch they tried to read it from the ground. They both squinted in an attempt to understand the scribblings.

“Mumbo jumbo” replied Teraan after a while, “Probably some form of vandalism, this looks to have been here for hundreds of years.”

“Thousands.” Merkava told them, “Perhaps older than our people themselves. And I would not expect an Orgrimmar Paladin to understand such ancient text. It is the language of the first Angels, the tongue of Roel himself.”

“Oh?” sighed Teraan sarcastically, “And I suppose the noble Paladins of Stormwind are fluent in such useful arts?”

“Enter only the one of true blood” read out Merkava, “It seems to say this, so only the blood lines can open the doors, would be my guess.”

Laughing back, Teraan mocked “So before humanity even existed, they put a lock on the door so that only humans could enter? You're funny. Good one, what did that warlock call you? Merky?”

“I only read it Orgrimmar fool, I cannot offer any more than a rough translation, who knows in the mind of the great Angels?” snapped the aggravated Stormwind Paladin.

“Erm, guys?” asked Blackluster, forcing the two to look back at him, “You know how you said no one had been here for however long?” the paladins nodded back, “And how only someone like me can enter? Then why has the door been torn apart leaving a gap?”

Bringing themselves to attention, Merkava and Teraan quickly looked at each other. Just then they walked over to the door itself, and noticed as Blackluster had said. It had been ripped, revealing an entrance into the sacred place. They looked at each other once more.

“Who could have done this?” asked Teraan worried and inspecting the destroyed metal.

“Vandals, perhaps?” mocked Merkava, bringing a scowl from his counterpart.

“Very funny. Belendor perhaps? He knew we would come here, maybe he is in here waiting?”

Merkava looked over the destruction once more, “No. A human could not do this. These marks are from something beyond our control. Something bigger than anything of our race.”

Gulping, the paladins nodded back to each other and drew their swords. The cold steel sliding against their sheathe broke the eerie silence as they stared into the blackness of the Exodar. Merkava then began to climb through the broken door to examine the insides of the ancient building, unknowing of what hid behind the shadows of the ancient graveyard.

****
Ragnorak
****


“Ha!” bellowed the warlord, taking to his seat, “I can't wait!”

Sitting on his makeshift throne, he overlooked the centre of Stormwind. A wooden frame held him above the masses below, while golden and red had been painted over it. Giant banners of Orgrimmar floated around the city while guards patrolled throughout. In front of him, a large wooden platform was constructed with multiple figures standing together, their faces covered by black masks.

One by one their charges were read out. The individual was led to the chopping block, their mask removed and their head placed onto the board. As the execution performed the act, the crowds gave mixed responses. Some cheered, some booed while others simply watched, frozen and emotionless. Laughing manically at every blow, Ragnorak looked on as his spectacle was put into action. As the removed head dropped to the floor, it was promptly picked up and displayed to the roaring crowds. The body was then disposed of and the next victim unmasked, before following a similar procedure.

The last in the line was a short figure, and the war chief could not wait for his turn. With every passing moment his eyes darted back to the prisoner at the rear.

“How long until the dwarf's turn?” he asked turning to his side.

“A few more minutes, sir” remarked Economist.

“Make them hurry up! I want to see the face of the female when she has to do it!” urged Ragnorak, “Are you writing all of this down scribe?”

Stood next to him, Etro smiled, “It's already written, my liege. Pre-done so we can get it out to the masses as soon as possible.”

“Good! A man of action!” announced the leader as Etro bowed in response.

As the festivities continued Etro looked around the city, grinning to himself as he looked up to the buildings surrounding. Orgrimmar soldiers wielding crossbows stood watch over the crowd while heavily armoured troops stood in front of the platform, holding back the people of Stormwind.

****
Blackluster
****


As the Paladins crept into the monolithic structure, Blackluster hesitantly followed. Entering into the chasm he gaped in astonishment at the overwhelming architecture within. The ceiling towered above them, covered in mosaic patterns trickling down the hallway. Glowing purple stones resonated around, giving some light to the darkness.

Continuing through they walked past small stones with see through figures upon them, glowing a similar essence to the surrounding gems. Dust covered the mantles carrying the descriptions, yet the statues stood proudly atop them. Staring into the sky and standing tall they were dominant figures overlooking the pathway down the Exodar.

Marvelling at the spectacle, Blackluster asked “What...what is this place?”

Walking ahead Merkava informed him, “The graveyard of the Angels. A place where Angels are laid to rest, frozen in time upon these statues. I do not know the magic behind it, only that it has been here since the dawn of time. At the very end, it is foretold that the original bloodlines also reside here.”

“Who's that?” asked Blackluster pointing to a statue.

Merkava stopped for a moment in front of a slender figure, dressed in long robes, “It's Tia. One of the first Angels created by Roel. It is said she formed the seas and the waters around the world.”

“And him?” he pointed to a bulkier statue.

“Kraith. The first commander of the Angel forces, entrusted by Roel to lead the armies of the Angels into battle against the forces of darkness.”

“And this?”

“Enough!” demanded Merkava, “We have no time for this, let us continue, the times of the past are gone, and so shall we be if we do not hurry!”

The three then continued down the chamber. Deeper they went to see dominating figures lining the way, Angels of long ago watching over them. Finally they came to a scuplture bigger than the rest overlooking the final room. The statue had its arms out wide, heavy armour donned with swirling sigils floating around it.

“Wow, who's this big guy?” asked Teraan as the three looked up.

“Really?” sighed Merkava, “Even you? This is Roel. The creator of all, father of the Angels. I thought you would know at least that” he sneered.

“What's this?” asked Blackluster, pointing to three platforms.

“The further we go” answered the alliance Paladin, “The closer we come to our own time line. Here we have the Arch Angels at the conception of the bloodlines.”

Moving closer, they noticed that of the three platforms only one had a statue on it, the one to the left of three. On the placard it held a barely readable description upon it.

Here lies Peithne, protector of humanity and defender of hope.

On the right, the platform was broken into two as if destroyed and torn apart.

“This must be Kindzadza's” told Merkava, “The Arch Angel Intervention revoked his powers so that he would be a normal Angel, rather than one of the highest order.”

In the middle, a slightly heightened platform stood above the other two. Yet it carried no statue upon it, and seemed empty, the dust had cleared from it making it seem new and fresh.

“This isn't right.” told Merkava looking at the middle one.

“What is it?” asked Teraan, attempting to see the problem.

“Intervention should be upon here. Yet there is nothing. His reign was over long ago, and Nyeriah was the last Arch Angel, and I can see her statue just down the hall.”

“Well, Kindzadza is not here either?” remarked Blackluster.

“Yes.” he replied, “But Kindzadza still lives. Intervenion perished to give way for a new generation of Arch Angels. Thoughts for another time, we must make ready the ritual.”

Shrugging, Teraan and Blackluster followed Merkava towards three more statues opposite those of the Arch Angel. They seemed smaller and more human. Blackluster recognised one from the halls of Stormwind as Stray, the father of Stormwind. Meanwhile Teraan bowed to give his respects to another, Discarnate the father of Orgrimmar.

Stray and the final figure of Crescendo’s blood line, all wore heavy armour. Although the Paladin heroine’s appeared more in line of that of Merkava, while Discarnate was dressed in fine robes. The three glowed their historical figures, Bluebell in green, Stray in the blue of Stormwind and Discarnate the red of Orgrimmar. Blackluster noticed the gems on his shield began to glow as they approached.

****
Belendor
****


Reaching the shores of the Eastern Kingdom the Orgrimmar fleet docked. Belendor promptly jumped out over the bow of the lead ship, urging those behind him to hurry up.

“Let’s go! Quickly! We must make way to the Exodar at once!” he cried towards them.

Sighing, MadPanda followed him out, “Sir, the men are tired. Many long for their homes. We must tie the boats up and make camp before we can carry on.”

“No!” demanded Belendor, “I care not for the men and even less for the ships. We shall not need them once we have crushed these traitors. Everything will be complete. Can you not see it? We must hurry!”

MadPanda sighed once more, and motioned to the troops, “Very well, sir. We will pursue as quickly as we can. Let us spare a few moments at least.”

Belendor sulked and walked away kicking the sand beneath him. Water rippled up the beach as he evaluated the landscape that he would soon march over. Looking up to the cliffs above, his eyes squinted before opening wide.

“There! Look, there! Look up!”

Some men immediately ceased their actions, crates dropped to the ground while others simply continued, used to the constant outcries by their leader now. MadPanda stood next to the Paladin and watched his pointing hand movements.

“I saw them. Do you not see? I told you!” he continued.

“The Angels?” asked MadPanda, unable to see anything.

“Yes! Do you not see them? They are following us. I saw the wings of an Angel, a dark figure stood overlooking us. When will they stop? I told you they were after us!”

“Yes, sir.” Continued MadPanda, “They are only watching though it would seem, no concern. Afraid of your power I’m sure. Why don’t you come aid us with unpacking so we can quickly go on to the Exodar.”

Grunting back, Belendor wrapped his cloak around himself and sat on top of a rock, firmly ridged into the sand. Withdrawing his sword, he then began to sharpen it, readying it for the coming battles.

“Very well.” Replied MadPanda, before returning to the ships, “We should be able to reach the Exodar shortly, sir.”
****
Blackluster
****
Getting closer to the three statues, small bowls sat beneath them came into view. Kneeling down in front of Bluebell, Merkava poured the elixir given to him by Crescendo. A red liquid oozed out into the dish.

“Do the same to the others” commanded Merkava, “We shall then summon forth the three bloodlines, and perhaps then we can have a chance against the Demons”

Teraan nodded and knelt at Discarnate, cracking open the necklace of Kapernakiss to let out the blood of the Orgrimmar's hero. The two statues began to glow vividly becoming less transparent.

“All three must be done before the ritual is complete.” he turned to Blackluster, “Let out some blood upon the altar and it shall be done.” he pointed at the statue of Stray.

Shaking with fear, the Stormwind noble replied “That's it? Just a little cut over there and this nightmare is over?” he then began walking towards the statue to summon the bloodlines forth.

Around him the room began to shake. The statues were vibrating fiercely with power as he walked over to the Stray. The bowl had become less still, rocking back and forth as Blackluster trembled. He looked down at the small dish, something so tiny meant so much. Gulping to himself he began to draw his sword to make the cut.

Suddenly rocks crashed down behind the three, the remaining bowl dropped from its stand. Snapping back they all stopped their actions to turn around. Covering their faces from the debris dust covered the air as rocks plummeted all around.

A long purple beam streaked down from above forcing everything in its path out of the way. Slowly the three managed to uncover their faces. In front of them stood a kneeling figure, huge wings covering its body glowing a glorious white and gold. Atop its head sat a gold and red helm covering the face, a slight slit revealed gleaming eyes and a menacing smile.

“Foolish humans” send a booming voice, sending more rocks crashing down around them.

“Who are you!” shouted Teraan, raising his sword, while Merkava kept his lowered.

Slowly raising its head, the figure looked at them “The true heir to this pathetic world”.

Without hesitation the new arrival sprung instantly into the air towards them. Teraan attempted to intervene as it hurtled towards Blackluster. Effortlessly he was thrust through the air smashing into the near by cave as the figure stopped in front of the bloodline. Darting into action, Merkava jumped between them and raised his sword.

“Who are you?” repeated Merkava as Teraan struggled out of the rocks, “Tell me! Angel? Demon? One of Belendor’s minions?!”

Ignoring the Paladin their foe drew a long sword, its hilt a golden colour. Merkava leaped into action to try and stop their opponent, who simply slashed the sword to the side knocking him away. Blackluster then looked up, fear rising within him as this daunting enemy loomed over him. Its giant stature overshadowing the Stormwind noble.

“Teraan!” shouted Merkava, recovering himself from the hit, “We must…Get up! Help him!”

Responding, Teraan nodded and forced himself to his sword, grabbing it and running over towards Blackluster. Likewise his Stormwind counterpart ran towards their foe, sword in hand as he stood over the helpless soldier.

Now prepared for his onslaught, the two Paladins engaged the mystical figure in combat. Unable to strike a blow they were quickly put on the defensive.

“Do it!” Teraan shouted, unrelenting in his fight, “Complete it Blackluster, do it now! We can’t hold much longer!”

As he screamed he felt the blunt part of the sword smash into his face, the hilt knocking him back down. Blackluster nodded and dropped to his knees to pick up the bowl. As he cut his hand, blood dripped in to it. Carefully he went to place it on the stand.

Behind him Merkava desperately tried to keep the enemy at bay. Finally it broke his defence and knocked him back crippling the Paladin. Within moments the foe blinked towards Blackluster and stamped on his hand. Crying out in pain he dropped the bowl, and leapt back. Looking up he felt the unrelenting opponent behind him, jumping there immediately.

Looking up to his soon demise, Blackluster saw the huge blade plummet towards him and closed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable.
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Re: A story of TW

#400 » Post by Blacklustersoldier » 07 Feb 2016 01:08

I could be an orphan, not a noble, a street urchin, but then I'd need to be bit more brave not scared all the time :l
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Re: A story of TW

#401 » Post by Bluebell » 11 Feb 2016 00:06

Coming to the end of the summoning saga, so long chapter! After this one, going to do one more then take a break, try rewrite the earlier chapters on my master copy to develop the early story a bit.

Will Gnurg kill Smeldor?
Who attacks the graveyard of the Angels?
What will happen to Blackluster?

Big spoilers in the people in this chapter bit, so don't read if you wish to keep them so!

People in this chapter

Spoiler:
Gnurg
Ragnorak
Smeldor
Etro
Obliviana
Intervention
Kindzadza
Dymond
Demol
Blackluster
Merkava
Teraan
Spoiler:
Roel
Nyeriah
Peithne
Bluebell
Stray
Discarnate
Crescendo
Belendor
Prodigy[/i]



Chapter 33 - Child of Courage
Spoiler:
****
Blackluster
****


Eyes firmly shut giving only the view to darkness, Blackluster awaited his fate. His ears then heard the clashing of steel resonated into through the sound waves. Daring to open an eye, he believed his life over. Yet, as he forced his eyelid up he saw a winged Angel stood in front of him. Smaller than their assailant but still casting an imposing stature.

Standing on front of the bloodline, the Angel began to buckle down. It wielded two golden blades and crossed them defensively. Clearly struggling with the pressure of his opponent, the Angel knelt down on one knee to ease the attack. Pushing back he began to glow golden as his wings unfolded giving greater leverage. Shouting loudly he forced his opponent's blade back and separated his own two swords. As the rival staggered back, he stood up right, wings risen fully up displaying his full power and swords at the side.

“What are you waiting for?” he cried, before turning to Blackluster, its voice echoing around the chamber, “Do it! Complete the ritual!”

Nervously Blackluster nodded, freezing for a moment. Realising the figure was Demol, the same Angel from the Chapel fight and Darrowshire rescue. The two blades bloodied before used once more here in the Exodar. His attention promptly returning, Blackluster dropped to his hands to find the dish. Behind him he heard the clanging of Angelic steel as the two fought, constant bangs boomed throughout the chamber.

Finally he found the dish and cut his hand, placing it onto the altar of Stray. Sitting back, he waited, the Paladins looked up to watch as the final statue began to glow blue. Vibrating furiously the three heroes began to take form, rocks crashed from above around the Exodar and the ground shook.

“No!” screamed the attacker behind Blackluster, who looked around, “I will end this now!”

Slamming the Angel into the dust, the figure rose up. Its huge wings spread fully out as it drifted into the air. Pointing its long silver sword towards the three statues its hand shook tremendously. Demol attempted to recover, removing dirt from himself as he looked up helpless. Golden streams of energy thrust out of the sword and spiralled towards the statue of Discarnate.

Rocks hurtled from the chasms above as the burst became greater, the altar began to crumble under the pressure of the godly weapon, Colliding with Blackluster he was nearly knocked out by the sheer power of the debris. Merkava then jumped up and ran to the attacker, only to be brushed aside with the free hand like a fly. Looking back up in horror, Blackluster watched as the statue crumbled into pieces. The figure then pointed his weapon towards Stray.

Springing into action, Demol knocked the attacker's sword down with his own before blocking an attack to the side. Once more the two engaged in a fight, their wings gliding around the Exodar corridor as their weapons clashed against each other.

****
Dymond
****


Sat upon the cliffs overlooking the beach head, the Angel watched the Orgrimmar troops unpack and finally prepare to set off. Having followed their journey since the chapel, she paid close attention to Belendor's development.

Without notice she felt a disturbance behind her. Looking up, within moments she noticed the purple beam crashing into the Exodar's location. Pausing for a second, her attention went back to the Orgrimmar troops. They were now all facing the event, pointing to the skies. She knew they would now act hastily towards the horizon.

A second large explosion was heard, and then she realised.

“Demol...” she said to herself before closing her eyes.

Elegantly she unleashed her wings and levitated up slightly. Looking back down to Belendor, his attention completey drawn by the unfolding events, she took a deep breath and soared into the sky. Gliding through the air she made her way to the Exodar.

Within no time at all she was at the entrance and smashed through the great iron doors blowing them to the side. Quickly blinking through the halls she came to the final chamber, where the two deities were doing battle. She froze upon reaching them and simply watched.

Once more, Demol was on the back foot, pinned down and his swords crossed as the figure pressed them towards him. Desperately he attempted to fight back, only for his own blades to draw closer. Dymond simply looked on with despair.

“Demol?” she cried, “What's going on? Who's this?”

She inspected the attacker. His armour was clearly of Angel origin, his stature carried that of the Arch Angel class. The huge blade he wielded seemed a relic of the Dalaran armouries, while a long cloak fluttered behind him with symbols of Angel language.

“It's him!” shouted Demol, squeaking slightly with the impending attack, “The one behind it all! Everything! It's him!”

“What? Who? What's going on?” protested Dymond, her hands shaking for the first time as she watched her friend.

“Stay out of this Dymond!” yelled the figure, the Angel's eyes then locked onto him, frightened by her name being called.

Demol's blades began to be firmly pressed against his face, causing him to scream in agony. Kneeling down his legs began to buckle from sheer pain of his own holy weapons used against him.

“Enough!” demanded Dymond as she began to glow.

A new found conviction took over the Angel as she summoned her golden staff. Her wings unfolded and protruded out and she flew towards the two fighters.

Slamming down she separated their swords, and then forced the attacker back by hitting his chest with great power. She then helped Demol to his feet and the two turned to the recovering figure.

“You shall all pay for your insubordination!” demanded their foe.

As Demol stood up right and flexed his wings, the two Angels swirled their weapons back into battle position and prepared to fight.

“And so shall you, Intervention” spoke Demol as the three flew up once more.

****
Gnurg
****


Watching the executions began to bore the war chief. He sat in his char with his hand holding his head up, saving himself from slumber. Economist then nudged him, waking him from his daydream and pointed down.

“And now, the main attraction. The execution of the villainous Smeldor, leader of the mountain traitors, heir to Ironforge and betrayer of the free people” shouted the crier, before Smeldor was unmasked.

Hesitantly, Gnurg was pushed forward and handed a great longsword with Orgrimmar symbols upon it. She was dressed in traditional Stormwind armour, the highest general marks upon it signifying her new position. Smeldor looked to her and nodded, before being thrust down onto the block. She simply gulped in return and her eyes turned to the crowd, her hands trembling around the hilt.

“Just get it over with” she told herself, “Just do it for the people of Stormwind.”

“Friends! People of Stormwind and Orgrimmar! Fellow citizens of this great world!” announced Ragnorak, getting up from his seat and putting his hands upwards in an open manner, “Tonight we say goodbye to the troubles of the past and welcome the new horizons of the future!”

A small tear came down Gnurg's face as he continued his speech. Within the crowd she noticed most were watching Ragnorak, but a hooded figure was pushing his way through the group.

“With this sacrifice we wipe our hands of the previous regime, and the dawn of the second human empire shall come to pass!”

Rudely the hooded man seemed to force the others out of his way. She looked up to the guards on the roof tops, who all seemed to have their attention firmly locked on their leader.

“A new day will come where Stormwind and Orgrimmar ride under one banner! Today we are one city!” he finished.

As he completed his speech, everyone's attention turned to the Stormwind leader. Still shaking she inspected the surroundings, and saw Ragnorak's hand was in the air ready to instruct her. Below her the cloaked figure was still pushing through the crowds and was nearly at the foot of the execution platform.

****
Dymond
****


As the three Angels began to battle the room around them crumbled under pressure. Intervention blocked Dymond's staff before parrying back to Demol.

“Why?” asked Dymond, “Why are you doing this?” she pleaded.

As the fight continued, swirling in the air and pushing them back, the three finally let off for a moment. Demol and Dymond stood with their backs to the wall, while Intervention was in front of the three statues.

Panting from exhaustion, “Everything Dymond. He did it all. He wants to destroy the humans.”

“But why?” asked Dymond once more looking at Demol.

“Fools!” shouted Intervention, “We wield such power and yet you bow to the whim of these pathetic creatures.” he gestured to the injured Paladins, “Such power is ours to take, not that for another race!”

“The other Arch Angels. Peithne. Nyeriah. Prodigy. How many have you killed? How many removed because they did not agree with your thinking Intervention?”

“It can't be!” protested Dymond distraught, “Everything we have worked so hard for...all this time?”

“We have to stop him Dymond. The demons, the deaths of generations of bloodlines. It was all him. From the shadows he has orchestrated everything. We must stop him!”

“Insignificant fools!” bellowed Intervention once more, “I have crushed Gods, I shall not let you two foil my plans!”

As they talked the statues continued to rumble, Blackluster struggled to the side. From the blow he suffered earlier he began to feel the pain resonate around his body. Every movement became a fight within itself.

The three then resumed their fight. Dymond attempting to sweep at Intervention's legs while Demol continued his harass of his blades. Wielding only his long sword, the Arch Angel blocked their attacks and went on the offensive himself. Shielding their blows with his wings, he began pushing the two back. Now in between them, they flashed around invisible to the naked eye, unrelenting in their fight.

Suddenly, Intervention blew his wings back and pushed outwards sending a shockwave all around. Demol jumped back and paused slightly for a moment, covering himself from protection. Dymond then launched a counter attack, only for her golden staff to be snapped in two as the giant sword slammed onto it. Holding the two pieces she looked up to Intervention who slammed his palm onto her chest. The Angel was then flung through the air, her wings unable to cease the flight as she crashed into the cave wall.

On the other side, Demol attempted to strike only for his blades to be blocked. Once more the two carried on their duel while Dymond attempted to rejoin. As she flew back Intervention knocked her down again, her staff now ruined, she watched the two fight.

Without the help of Dymond, her compatriot quickly fell behind to Intervention's sword play. The Arch Angel knocked one blade from his grip then punched the lesser Angel in the face. Spreading his defending arm out wide, Demol was left open. Intervention then sliced his blade through the helpless Angel's chest. Eyes open wide, Demol froze, his wings went stiff and his sword dropped from his hand.

“No!” screeched Dymond, tears streaming down her face.

As Demol dropped to the ground, the Arch Angel spun up and pointed his sword towards Dymond. Shaking with power, a golden stream twirled towards the angel from the weapon making her momentarily forget her grievances and fling her wings up defensively. Tearing through her feathers the energy forced her back into the fabric of the wall draining her energy.

Facing the remaining two statues, Intervention floated higher and raised his sword once more. Dymond watched as he destroyed the altar of Stray, the crippled Blackluster only able to watch as his family's heritage lay crumbling to pieces. The Arch Angel then pointed his weapon towards the remaining hero, Bluebell.

****
Ragnorak
****


With the crowd below a split emotion of cheering and pushing in protest, the war chief grinned with delight. Looking down at Gnurg he prepared to lower his hand and give the order to execute Smeldor. The sheer idea of a Stormwind leader killing an Ironforge King excited him to no end, and he could hardly contain his enthusiasm.

Just then, it happened. As his hand fell down to command Gnurg, two of his guards fell to their knees. A cloaked member of the crowd jump up, and threw daggers into the near by Orgrimmar soldiers creating turmoil below. As the assembly parted the individual became isolated. Wearing a simple black hood his face stared onto the floor with Orgrimmar troops laying at his feet.

Confidently he began to walk up to the elevated platform, guards rushed to meet him only for further knives be thrust out, flopping them to the ground. Enraged, Ragnorak watched as this figure made his way towards the execution block.

“Guards!” he cried, looking up around the court yard.

Taking aim soldiers high up prepared to take down the perpetrator. Before they could unleash bolts struck their chests, one by one they fell from the roof tops crashing onto small stalls below. Spinning around the frustrated leader saw an archer stood on a vacant building. Firing quickly she took down the remaining guards leaving the way clear for her comrade below.

Ragnorak stomped the ground and gripped his fist, “Guards!” he demanded once more and turned to Economist, “Get me more soldiers. Bring the royal guard now!”

Economist nodded back as the rogue below darted through the remaining ranks. Weaving through their attacks he effortlessly managed to get up to the platform. Blocking one attack before spinning around and stabbing a second soldier in the chest. Once around he thrust his dagger backwards into the first guard's back, and then retracting it back. As the dead man dropped to the ground, he threw his weapon into the air twirling it as he walked forward.

Jumping up on to the platform he slammed down on to the final guard, to be at the centre of attention. The whole crowd bare witness to the event as a masked figure defied the Orgrimmar hordes. Standing now, next to the Alliance leader they kept their hood on put their daggers away. Watching in astonishment, both Gnurg and Smeldor looked towards him, simply standing there as guards flocked from around the city. Helpless, Ragnorak could simply look down at the platform as the events unfolded.

Pikeman surrounded the execution block, soldiers flocked pointing their weapons to prevent any escape. Ragnorak began to smile as his army arrived to finish his revenge. Just then, outnumbered, the figure pointed to the skies.

“Surrender!” bellowed Ragnorak, “Surrender and we may spare your pathetic existence!”

In response, placing both hands up like arrows upwards, he posed, causing the soldiers to look on perplexed.

Great banners then unravelled from buildings around the court. The orange emblem of Ironforge fluttered down displaying magnificently over the walls, while opposite the golden lion of Stormwind embroidered on a blue flag displayed over the execution platform.

“People of Stormwind!” shouted Etro, making Ragnorak's attention snap up to him in bemusement, “Do not falter in these times of trouble! Stay strong and rise up against these invaders of foreign lands!”

“What...what are you doing?” demanded the war chief to the scribe.

Turning back to him, Etro smiled, “Stormwind bows to no one!” and then laughed.

The assassin then untied Smeldor as Gnurg simply watched, jaw wide open while the guards pushed on. From above, the archer Obliviana began reigning down arrows to cover the right of the platform. Jumping down, the attacker struck two guards, quickly knock them down while Smeldor followed behind. Infuriated by the events, Ragnorak noticed multiple other figures from within the crowd step forward dressed in hoods and began disrupting the attempts of the guards. Pointing furiously towards them, he saw his plans be foiled by the attackers.

With the advent of the uprising, the platform became swamped by the crowd. The people of Stormwind battling the Orgrimmar guards, while the original cloaked figure disappeared into the masses. Now lacking his prisoner and spectacle, Ragnorak realised Gnurg too had fled the scene, looking up to the rooftops the archer was nowhere in sight. Angrily, as the chaos ensued below, he turned to Etro, the writer boasting a beaming smile.

“You'll pay for this!” he demanded, “Guards! Seize him!”

As Etro was dragged off by two burly Orgrimmar grunts, his feet scraping along the palisade he called back “You cannot silence the people of Stormwind forever! We shall return stronger than ever! The people of the city have spoken!” his voice dimming as he was dragged away.

****
Merkava
****


“Teraan!” screamed the Stormwind Paladin as Intervention's sword vibrated, “Stop him! We must...” he struggled to his feet.

“I...I can't move.” replied the Orgrimmar leader, “I can't do it...”

Floating slightly above the floor, Intervention let out the power of his weapon. Golden streams of energy pushed towards the statue of Bluebell. The two Paladins watched powerless in the background, while the Angels sat defeated in the ruins of the graveyard. Bursting onto the remaining bloodline's monument the glowing bolt pulsated deep into the stone work, sending more rocks crashing down.

“Merkava...” asked Blackluster, “Can she do it? Can she save us?” he asked.

“I don't know....it's our only hope...” ushered the Paladin, unable to raise himself back up.

Dymond, still injured from the fight held Demol and laid down. Her staff broken at her side, while she wept at the death of the Angel. A hole exposed within the centre and his glow dimmed as the room illuminated with Intervention's power. Through the water in her eyes she looked on to see the human of Stormwind force himself to his feet.

Screaming with pain, every step a crusade in itself, Blackluster crawled to the statue. As agony took a hold, he brought his body upright and unpacked the shield from his back, covering his face with it and dived in front of Bluebell.

Suddenly the energy stopped on the shield, absorbed by the ancient materials the two weapons matched. Intervention pushed on increasingly, only for Blackluster's feet to slide back in the dirt, the beam forcing him away.

“You will die where you stand, human. Your power is no match for that of the gods!” shouted the Arch Angel.

“Stop!” pleaded Teraan, attempting to help Blackluster.

“Let him” instructed Merkava.

“He will die! He's just going to die!”

The warrior's screams became louder as the onslaught continued, his feet pushed back further into the dirt. Just then, he stopped dead in his tracks. A blue energy resonated over him, his eyes glowed a vivid colour similar to that of Stray's statue. Raising his head over his shield a new found conviction over came him, his eyes clearly visible as he stared into the face of his adversary. Violent the crystals of the relic shield vibrated, their light crashing against the golden streams of the Arch Angel.

“No...” murmured Merkava. “He's fulfilling the prophecy, we have to let him.”

“This is insanity!” protested Teraan.

“No” was his reply, “It's courage.”

Angered by the disobedience of the humans, Intervention turned his sword slightly to the right, “You would use our own weapons against us? You really are pitiful!”

As his hand twisted, the sword rotated round slightly and the golden beams darkened, a redness took over and he rose into the air a little more.

Burning with pain Blackluster cried out, his shield absorbing the power became too much. Overheating with this new energy, the shield's metal started to turn a fiery red. Unable to withhold it much longer it flew from his hand and slammed into the ground leaving the soldier defenceless. Intervention simply smiled back and spun his sword back round, golden colours trickled out once more before piercing through Blackluster. Flinging his arms out wide, he was rendered motionless as the godly power ripped into his body. Behind him, the statue of Bluebell continued to vibrate, nearing the summoning as green orbs drifted towards it.

“I shall finish this now.” yelled Intervention as Blackluster dropped to the ground, his body still shaking with the energy of the Arch Angel.

Placing his feet firmly the ground caused dust to blow through the caverns, with great force he landed fully into the cave. His wings fluttered slightly blowing airwaves back around the chasm. Raising his sword for the final time, he began to channel energy to rid the world of the blood lines. Dymond looked around desperately for Demol's swords, his head still in her lap. The two Paladins watched on helplessly as rocks tumbled around them.

A crashing boom then echoed throughout the cave. A purple beam streaked in front of the final statue as Intervention felt a force knock him back, a weapon slam into his face.

Uncovering his vision from the swelling dust, he looked upon the new comer.

“You...” he spoke.

From behind the veil of darkness, a dominating figure stood tall and swirled a golden sword, “Me” confidently replied Kindzadza.
Why join the winning side if you can change the winner?

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Kniteknite
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Re: A story of TW

#402 » Post by Kniteknite » 11 Feb 2016 02:31

“Would you be quiet?” demanded Merkava sternly, whilst Teraan simply laughed behind them. " haha ;) You have a style that brings one to imagine being witness to the events as the story unfolds . Very nice ! :tick:


"That should make the [transaction] seem better." ~ Do You mean [transition] ? Thanks for bringing us all into this mysteriously inviting world of Your Story ~(Kk~

May be I could be a herald, or a cook somewhere lol. A cameo or anything . A time traveler ;)
Last edited by Kniteknite on 11 Feb 2016 03:24, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: A story of TW

#403 » Post by Kniteknite » 11 Feb 2016 02:53

Arockalypse wrote:
Chillmaster is still out at Westfall gathering crops.
[emoji23] [emoji23] [emoji23] [emoji23]
LOL ! some derbs may be ?
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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Re: A story of TW

#404 » Post by Knewklear » 11 Feb 2016 03:37

That Dwarf Rogue, though 8-)
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Knewklear - Dwarf Assassination (PvP/PvE) Rogue

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Re: A story of TW

#405 » Post by Cocopuffs » 11 Feb 2016 04:17

i cant believe this roleplaying homo threat still exists woah. going strong bois

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