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Create Your Own Warcraft Lore!
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Post by
Morec0
This Weeks Challenge:
Cataclysm, hell, Warcraft in general, has been plagued with critisizm on certain story elements. Take one of these critisized plot points, or any plotline from the warcraft universe, and rewrite it in a way that you think makes more sense. Examples would be the use of Thrall, Med'an, "There Must Always be a Lich King", and the Aspects sacrificing their powers.
Post by
Skreeran
I sit in the corner. They won’t be quiet unless I focus.
“They’ll stick you in a cage like an animal. They can see inside you. They know what you are. They know what you think. You aren’t ever going to change. This is what you get. You deserve--”
“You’ll have to kill them. Cut their throats. LISTEN. You need to--”
“Why did this happen? It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong--”
“Cut their throats. Watch the blood spurt from their necks.”
“You never wanted this. Why did this happen? You never did anything to deserve this.”
“If you weren’t in here, you’d be killing. They saw what you did to the dog. You belong in--”
“HAHAHAHAHA--”
I feel them in my head. Crawling around. They won’t be quiet. I have to focus.Just a short piece. I did this one for Malice, by crazy RP character. I gave her three voices, one accusatory, one violent and impulsive, and one despairing.
Post by
Lordplatypus
Remove thrall from the dragon soul area and instead have the dragon soul be used by the aspects themselves, taking some of deathwing's energy from the shard of armor in Varian Wrynn's poession to imbue it with deathwing's own power.
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Lordplatypus
Well. It's not him that matters.
All i remember is that he had some shard of deathwing that fell off. (As our fathers before us short story)
It seemed like something off of deathwing's armor would have some energy.
If there was a large piece of deathwing somewhere that could be used (And don't say his chin, that's from after we beat him).
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Lordplatypus
Eh, We needed something with "Deathwing's power"
I thought a piece of his armor would work.
Plus, they're pretty much kitbashing the thing onto the dragon soul, and the only faction to ever purposely use something that literally is powered by raw evil is the horde.
Post by
Adamsm
Deathwing had no original scales left to be used against him, so only the Dragon Soul would work...and as Varian has no magical abilities at all, he could not have stood in place of the Earth Warder.
Post by
Atik
Deathwing had no original scales left to be used against him, so only the Dragon Soul would work...and as Varian
isn't Metzen's stand-in
, he could not have stood in place of the Earth Warder.
Fix'd
Post by
Lordplatypus
A: I was refering to a chunk of his armor.
B: No he wouldn't even be there, just the armor chunk strapped to the dragon soul.
Post by
620618
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
620618
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Skreeran
Snowmane sat on the edge of her bed, looking quietly at what lay on the nightstand. Beside her lamp and behind her flask it lay, glinting in the yellow candlelight. It had cost a small fortune. The latest in dwarven engineering. The BKP-100 Magnum Revolving Pistol, Special Edition. As she looked at it she felt a chill, so she stood and went to shut the window.
She had bought it for one purpose, and one purpose only, and thus far she hadn’t needed it. Something was different tonight though. Something kept pulling her thoughts back to it. A little voice inside her that whispered “Why not?”
She walked back from the window and gently picked it up, carefully examining all of the parts, making sure they were clean. It was gilded with 22 carat white gold, with ivory plating along the handle. Some would call it a thing of beauty. Not her though. To her, it was simply ironic. She had been looking to purchase a gun, and amid all of the utilitarian and mundane models this one had jumped out at her. This was not a gun for fighting. This was not a warrior’s weapon. This was meant for someone of noble birth. Someone like her. It was almost like it had been made for her specifically.
She popped the cylinder out and counted the bullets. Six. It didn’t make sense to keep it fully loaded--she’d only need to use it once--but it had made her a bit uncomfortable for some reason to keep it only loaded with one, so she had gone ahead and loaded it’s friends in with it.
Snapping the cylinder back into place, she cocked the hammer and pressed the barrel against her temple. The tempered steel muzzle felt cold against her skin. A wave of dizziness rolled over her as she contemplated what slept inside that muzzle, waiting to be released. A simple squeeze, and that would be that.
She carefully slipped her finger into the trigger-well, running the pad of her fingertip down the pleasantly curved trigger. She tentatively added a little bit of pressure, her heart skipping a beat as it gave way slightly. It had just enough resistance to make squeezing the trigger a deliberate action. There was no way you could pull it by accident.
“Bang.”
She laid the pistol back down in its spot on the nightstand, reached for her flask and took a long pull from it. “Maybe tomorrow…” she muttered.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Snowmane sat on the edge of her bed, looking quietly at what lay on the nightstand. Beside her lamp and behind her flask it lay, glinting in the yellow candlelight. It had cost a small fortune. The latest in dwarven engineering. The BKP-100 Magnum Revolving Pistol, Special Edition. As she looked at it she felt a chill, so she stood and went to shut the window.
She had bought it for one purpose, and one purpose only, and thus far she hadn’t needed it. Something was different tonight though. Something kept pulling her thoughts back to it. A little voice inside her that whispered “Why not?”
She walked back from the window and gently picked it up, carefully examining all of the parts, making sure they were clean. It was gilded with 22 carat white gold, with ivory plating along the handle. Some would call it a thing of beauty. Not her though. To her, it was simply ironic. She had been looking to purchase a gun, and amid all of the utilitarian and mundane models this one had jumped out at her. This was not a gun for fighting. This was not a warrior’s weapon. This was meant for someone of noble birth. Someone like her. It was almost like it had been made for her specifically.
She popped the cylinder out and counted the bullets. Six. It didn’t make sense to keep it fully loaded--she’d only need to use it once--but it had made her a bit uncomfortable for some reason to keep it only loaded with one, so she had gone ahead and loaded it’s friends in with it.
Snapping the cylinder back into place, she cocked the hammer and pressed the barrel against her temple. The tempered steel muzzle felt cold against her skin. A wave of dizziness rolled over her as she contemplated what slept inside that muzzle, waiting to be released. A simple squeeze, and that would be that.
She carefully slipped her finger into the trigger-well, running the pad of her fingertip down the pleasantly curved trigger. She tentatively added a little bit of pressure, her heart skipping a beat as it gave way slightly. It had just enough resistance to make squeezing the trigger a deliberate action. There was no way you could pull it by accident.
“Bang.”
She laid the pistol back down in its spot on the nightstand, reached for her flask and took a long pull from it. “Maybe tomorrow…” she muttered.
Depressing.
Post by
Skreeran
Using my awesome necromantic powers, I revive this thread!
"It's your own fault."
Kitanga was taken aback by the directness of the elf's comment. "How is it my fault? I wasn't even born yet when the orcs crossed the Dark Portal."
"But you are an orc. It was your people that ruined your own world, and then you came here to take ours from us. How is that not your fault?" Taelani answered sharply.
"I can't choose who my ancestors were," Kitanga countered. "I can't put Draenor back together. Is it so much to ask to be able to live? To have a home?"
"I know draenei who were personally deprived of their homes and families by your people. What about them? Your people killed so many. Why should any of us who were hurt by orcs care at all about your lives? I don't care if you died. The world would probably be better off, honestly."
Kitanga puffed, her cheeks flushing with rage. The elf was baiting her, trying to hurt her. "How would that solve anything? If anything, that attitude only makes me more determined to live in spite of you!"
They were both sitting on the beach of a small island, waiting for a passing ship to spot their smoke signal. The transport ship they'd been on had been attacked by pirates, and while they had been able to fend the marauders off, it had been at the expense of many lives and the transport itself. They'd barely made it to shore.
"I'm just saying. My people still have their home. My people didn't ruin the world and have to go deprive someone else of their. You're the invader, not me. If you'd just leave, there would be no problem."
"It's not that simple!" Kitanga shot back. "There are thousands of orcs living in Durotar now, a place where no one but harpies and centaurs lived before we arrived, who had nothing to do with draenor or demons, and make their own living and have young ones. Where else would the live? Nagrand? Maybe some of them could live there, but there's not enough room for a whole orc nation!"
"And whose fault is that?" Taelani retorted. "Durotar may be where you live, but don't act like you live exclusively out of it. Have you ever been to Warsong Gulch? Have you ever seen the shredded, rotting remains of one of your friends nailed to a sacred tree? Durotar can't contain you. Not even your own planet could. No, you have to reach out and get more, always more."
"I'm not saying that's right either!" Kitanga snapped. "I'm a shaman! Don't you understand? We're not monolithic! We have warmongers and imperialists, but we also have voices speaking against them, people like myself who want to live in harmony with the world."
"It's a pity those voices aren't louder," Taelani replied. "I suppose next you'll tell me that Garrosh was a madman who every orc hated, and that it's his fault alone that our forests were cut down and our people massacred. You know who put him on the throne. You may wish to deny it, but it was your people who gave him the power he had, and they reveled in it. Tell me again now how you just want a peaceful life in Durotar, and explain to me how all of that destruction was just an accident."
"So then you'd rather have us slaughtered like animals? Have you ever thought that maybe exactly this kind of moralizing and bitter hatred gave Garrosh the power that he had? My people are sick of being told that they are better off dead, and they determined to take their living by force when it was withheld from them. By refusing to cooperate and coexist with us, you're only feeding into the problem!"
"Coexist!" Taelani answered, sounding genuinely shocked. "How can we coexist with the monsters that took Cenarius from us? How can we coexist with the fiend who stole so many of our sisters from us? No, we cannot coexist, because you have made war upon us, and we are determined to hand it back to you. Those we kill are repayment for those who have been taken from us. I hope your people learn to know torment at our hands, because that's exactly what we've known at yours! There will be no coexistence. You cannot deny the consequences of your actions. You cannot ask for mercy when you have given none."
"And how is any of that my fault? I've been fighting this whole time to put a stop to the war! I was there when Garrosh was dragged away in chains! I can show you the scars that I was given fighting against that brutality! Can't you see the difference between Garrosh and his race?"
"And yet, in spite of all your efforts, not a single drop of your blood can bring back my family. Nothing you do can undo what was done. When you talk about peaceful coexistence in Durotar, all I hear is justification for more bloodshed. You don't think Orgrimmar will demand the wood of Ashenvale again? You don't think that the orcs will ever choose a warmonger like Garrosh again? You're lost in a fantasy. You are imagining the orcs as you wish, free from reality. Every year that your kind stays on Kalimdor is another year closer to the next bloody conflict. Better you all leave or die."
"The orcs will never leave their homes without a fight, nor will they lay down and die," Kitanga answered fiercely. "By holding true to the course of war, you're only encouraging further fighting between our peoples. There are orcs who are willing to work things out, to make peace and cooperate. By insisting on war, you're only proving the Garrosh-type right, encouraging the raiding and war. There are two ways out of this conflict: Either a truly massive amount of blood must be shed, or our peoples must learn to coexist. You are advocating for the former, but you don't get to choose whose blood is shed. As long as the path of war is chosen, our peoples will exact atrocity after atrocity upon one another, and it will never end until one or the other has been wiped out. It might be my people, but it might be yours. Do you really believe that more bloodshed will solve the problem? If so, you must have an unrealistic amount of confidence in your peoples' ability to make war. Destroying the orcish people would come with such a great blood price, I'm not sure you could pay it."
"The choice between war and peace is an illusion," Taelani answered callously. "The orcs have already shown, so many times, that they cannot live peacefully. There will be war, no matter what choice I pretend to choose. The question is how many more wars will there be. Will we allow our enemies to rise to their feet again, to build up and attack us again, or will we destroy them so ruthlessly that they will never again be a threat. I don't think King Varian should have allowed the Horde to continue existing. I think we should have broken you while we had the chance."
"I could easily say the same thing," Kitanga countered. "You're telling me that I, and all of the other orcs who were there in Orgrimmar on the day that Garrosh fell, who broke their Blood Oath to stop a butcher, who opened up a weakness in the Horde war machine, who allowed you to step into our homes to fight our mutual enemy with us, that we should all be killed. By that reasoning, it is you who are threat to me and my people, and we would be justified in destroying that threat. Is that right? If you really are so determined to kill us all, no matter how much blood we shed to end the war between us, then why should we fight back against the warmongers at all? Why not join them and secure our safety. Is that what you're telling me?"
"It was you who invaded and colonized our home," Taelani replied. "Once you have returned our land to us and left our shores and paid back for the blood you've spilt, then you can talk about coexistence and cooperation."
"We can't do that," Kitanga answered, exasperated. "And I mean it. Even if that's the 'right' thing to do, it's just not a realistic option. Not unless you really did bring the Horde to its knees. You can't just uproot hundreds of thousands of people like that. Especially when we don't have anywhere else to go. I'm willing to compromise. I'm willing to sacrifice for peace. But these unrealistic demands are just not going to solve anything. Really it's just the same as calling for war. And if war is really what you want, then are you any better than Garrosh? Your hatred may be justified, but in practice, you're just the same. By perpetuating this war, which doesn't have to go on, you're killing your own people. We could compromise and make peace, even imperfect peace, and save so many lives, but you're demanding to go to war, even if both our peoples have to die to accomplish that."
"Maybe peace isn't worth as much as you think it is. I would rather fight for justice than settle for unjust peace. You said it yourself. The orcs will not willingly leave. Then in order to get back what belongs to us, in order to stop the infection that is growing on our doorstep, we must make war. You're living on our land. Don't forget that. You took our homes. We will never concede them to you. If you will not return them willingly, then we have no choice but to fight for them. And if you took our homes once, how can we believe that you won't take them again? Your appetite for land has proven voracious."
Kitanga took a deep breath. "I want to resolve this dispute between us, don't you understand? I want the killing to stop. I want so much for there to be no more children whose parents are stolen from them, or who are left with no home to call their own. I'd give anything, even my own life, to make an end to this cycle of bloodshed and hatred. Why then are you so bent on perpetuating it?"
"Because I also want to see an end to the bloodshed, but I don't think that's possible until justice has been done. As long as you lay claim to our land and cast your shadow over our homes, we will continue to resist you."
Kitanga shook her head, given a tired sigh. Looking up, she saw the tiny outline of a ship on the horizon.
I worked this out of an internal thread pertaining to colonial and colonized peoples, for example in the Americas and Israel. We Communists would call this a dialectical relationship. Both parties perceive themselves to be in the right, but they are put into opposition by nature. Within a dialectical relationship, either one side must destroy the other, or there must be some kind of stable relationship established between them that gives rise to a new status quo and a new set of relationships (synthesis). I'd say that both Kitanga and Taelani are right (though Taelani is perhaps being a little jaded and impractical). There's not a clear way out, but the conflict between their worldviews can't be resolved unless the contradiction between justice and peace is resolved.
One of the interesting extenuating factors in the Warcraft universe, too, is the almost Nazi-like connection between nation and race. In the real world, almost every nation has a multi-racial population, and so national contradictions don't necessarily have a racial component. If the Alliance (or some other national entity) had a significant orc population, for example, Kitanga probably wouldn't feel as necessarily tied to the Horde as a political formation. It's specifically because the Horde includes orcs but excludes night elves, and the Alliance includes night elves but excludes orcs that there is necessarily a contradiction between them. If an organization existed that was working for a realistic path to justice and decolonization for the night elves, for example, Kitanga and Taelani both could work to get justice for the night elves while also securing space and livelihood for the orcs. However, I'm sure such an organization would also prompt a reactionary movement among the orcs, who would no doubt fight to hold onto what they had.
Post by
Aeliren85
Father to His People
20 ADP
A lone horseback figure rode down the road towards Stratholme, the light of the sun shining off his armour. Prince Arthas Menethil kicked his horse with anger, wishing for it to go faster. His people were in danger, and he felt powerless to stop what was happening. Conflicted by his emotions, he failed to notice the man standing in the middle of the road until it was nearly too late, and barely managed to pull his horse aside in time.
"What did you think you were doing? I could have run you down!"
The man raised his head, looking at the young prince.
"I was in no danger, young prince."
He bowed mockingly to the prince.
"We must talk."
Arthas rolled his eyes. This must be the so-called "prophet" his father spoke about.
"I have no time for this!"
"Listen to me, boy!"
The old man snapped in a voice that compelled Arthas to listen.
"This land is lost! The shadow has already fallen, and nothing you do will deter it. If you truly wish to save your people, lead them across the sea... to the west."
Arthas couldn't believe his ears. The idea of leaving his people to such a fate was ludicrous. And yet, some part of him began to doubt himself. He had failed to stop their plot in Andorhal and barely held Hearthglen. He refused to admit it, but the last few days were exhausting him, both physically and mentally, the Light being the only thing keeping him going forward. He doubted he'd be able to defeat this... Scourge.
He looked back at the stranger, almost feeling the sheer power emanating from him. He stared into his eyes, seeing the deep gleam of certainty, and sighed. Was he really considering this?
"...Very well. What would you have me do to save my people?"
It seemed so.
The old man's gaze softened.
"You must lead them across the seas to the west, to the ancient continent of Kalimdor. Only there will you be able to save this world from the great darkness that threatens it. The true enemy - greater and more terrible than the undead - will be found there."
The old man leaned more on his staff, seeming more relaxed.
"Do what you must. But you must hurry, young prince. Time is running out."
And with that, the prophet's form then shifted, becoming that of the great black bird, and with a flap of the wings he flew off, blowing a wind in Arthas' face. And for the first time in the past few days, he found that the air didn't smell of death or carrion.
It smelled clean. Of hope.
"Arthas?"
Jaina's voice came out of nowhere, and as he turned his head she materialized in front of him.
"I'm sorry for concealing myself, Arthas, I just wanted to -"
"It's alright, Jaina. You don't have to explain yourself."
Arthas cut her off, speaking in a much calmer tone than usual, almost solemn, as he turned back to gaze in the direction the prophet left.
"I sensed tremendous power in him. What if he's right? What if he can see the future?"
"Then... I suppose we'll have to leave, and take the people across the sea. Stratholme isn't far now. If we leave now, we might be able to warn them in time. Uther will catch up later."
He prepared his mount to continue the journey, stopping to look back at Jaina.
"Are you coming?"
Jaina blinked at Arthas. Something about him had changed - perhaps for the better. She smiled at him.
"I'm coming."
She followed him, and the pair rode down the road to Stratholme.
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