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The War of Crowns (Open RP)
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Post by
oneforthemoney
The Cataclysm affected the entire world of Azeroth, though some lands more than others. Earth shattering ruin brought by the Great Destroyer ravaged much of the planet, twisting landscapes and shattering lives with impunity. These were hard times, times of war in which the Alliance and Horde battled all across the globe for the sake of grievances old and new, resources, survival and power.
Northrend was no different. However, the opening days of the global war between Horde and Alliance were not fought there but in the respective races home continents. As such, garrisons withdrew to strongholds and departed home, weary feet trudging towards new battlefields leaving but a few power bases in the frozen northern continent.
This was not overlooked by any means. Northrend, a kingdom without a king, was left in the lurch with the majority of Horde and Alliance forces leaving but small footholds behind. Many saw this as an opportunity! To those enterprising individuals, here stood new lands ripe for the picking. Men and women of all races came with blade and shovel, a massive land grab ensuing as warlords and a new generation of monarchs rose. Self-styled rulers they were, staking claim and building castles and forts to guard their new holdings as veterans of the Northrend wars left behind and citizenry now displaced by the Cataclysm flocked to their banners, gathering beneath these new aristocrats. For Northrend, while under the grip of the Lich king and the ensuing war which freed it left few with any true claim to the lands.
To be sure not only these new kings and queens gained from the pulling back of these two global powers; the power vacuum was very profound and far reaching. Former agents of the Lich King built names for themselves as well in the shattered halls of the once great Scourge fortresses scattered about the lands. These were, and are, few however. The might of the remaining Argent Crusade and Knights of the Ebon Blade still active crushing any with ties to the former Lich King once they gained a degree of notoriety. But nevertheless, many persist.
Naturally, with so many competing for land there would inevitably be conflict. These dozens of growing kingdoms soon came into contact and, by the nature of the amoeba like power structures which they were, battles were fought. A second massive war for Northrend ensued, these new royals clashing viciously to survive and build upon their crowns with the shattered remnants of their competition. The conflicts grew steadily worse, particularly as no one could hold these new kingdoms accountable as they were neither Horde nor Alliance aligned, being loyal only to themselves.
Dalaran, the only real judicial force at that point in the region, declared Crystalsong Forest a protectorate and themselves neutral. They did all that they truly could in the circumstances, opening their city once more as a safe haven and having it be used as grounds for diplomatic meetings. It worked, to an extent. But the mageocrats experienced the profound backlash of their city becoming one of intrigue between these new nobles, nations and their diplomats. Murders and assassinations became commonplace and the streets ran red in blood. So too did the city become a gathering place for mercenaries, sell swords coming forth at the promises of pay and plunder to lend their arms to the new monarchs in the ensuing bloodshed.
When both Horde and Alliance realized the scarcity of resources amongst the old world, they turned back to Northrend and its rich environs. But they balked at the thought of actually assuming a military campaign, neither relishing the prospect of opening yet another front in their war to pour their dwindling man power into between not only each other, but these new fiefdoms that had grown. As a result, both global powers began to provide weapons, gold and trade to certain kingdoms discretely, gaining allies and new trade in the war torn continent. Some Kingdoms however went a different path, recruiting fallen members of the cult of the damned or Twilight Hammer to either use the now leaderless scourge still wandering about in their own armies, or paying these now unemployed sorcerers for their service.
In Borean Tundra only Warsong Hold and Valiance Keep remain in their respective organizations control, fully manned but only just so. The remaining wild areas have a smattering of the largest of new kingdoms, these regions having been the first to have claims laid to them. Kingdoms such as the militaristic and harsh Streltsy, the stoic Burgands and the ambitious and scheming Lupins have come to the forefront in this country and have the largest claims, at nearly constant war with one another with peace only occurring between any of them when one wished to crack down particularly harsh on one of the others.
Howling Fjord has all but been deserted of both Alliance and Horde presence. The remaining Vrykul, having lost their death god, have moved to retake all of the regions in the fjord and, backed with the still ascended champions from Ymirheim have all but succeeded. They march out from Utgarde in their legions, and none are strong enough now to even attempt assaulting the massive hold. Few kingdoms exist here, but those that do are touted as having the greatest warriors in all Northrend and some of the mightiest strongholds.
The Grizzly hills has the second largest number of habitable lands, having been one of the first to be colonised but also having been amongst the least touched of the scourge. It does not, however, have many smaller communities. The threat of furlbog in the area, the remnant Iron Dwarf’s and still feral worgen restricted settlements to large and heavily walled cities to better survive the treacherous nights. These townships are havens from which trappers congregate and travel from in order to sell their wares and make their true homes.
Zul’Drak has no kingdoms laying claim in its borders, the frost trolls mostly destroyed from the scourge whom still haunt the ruined kingdom in numbers great enough to smash any attempt at building a city. Those trolls that do remain have holed up in the main tier of Zul’Drak, walling itself off for the most part to prevent the Scourge trolls still rampant in the area from assaulting them. They bide their time in the ruined city, adventurers having killed most of their leaders leaving them a snake without a head. But they rebuild amongst the monolithic structures of their once empire, rebuild and wait for the time they may once more claim all of Zul’Drak again.
The Dragonblight has its kingdoms concentrated at their borders to other regions, few willing to risk penetrating farther in to build their forts and towns. For the nearer to the dragonshires and Wyrmrest Temple itself they dare travel, the greater the risk of being drawn into the ensuing conflict of the dragons and the Twilight Hammer. After the explosion at Wyrmrest and the ensuing battle between the flights and Deathwing, the dragon flights have been attempting to expunge the remnants of cultists left behind in their sacred lands with varying success. As a result, any of the mortal races who step foot too far into the region run the risk of being attacked by a member of the flights in the belief they are a member of the Hammer, or by the Hammer thinking them spies. The Alliance and Horde maintain their holdings in Wintergarde and Agmar's Hammer, but refuse to intervene in the conflicts which rage about them for fear of dragging themselves into the mire that is the war.
Azjol‘Nerub itself has been claimed by the remaining Nerubians, though they have not traveled there themselves in great numbers as of yet. But with Dalaran supporting their claim it remains in their name, and none dare claim the ruined empire for fear of angering the powerful mageocrats. The ruins of the empire are is still haunted by the remains of the fallen nerubians, so the spider lords recruit aid from any willing to purge the halls of the lingering dead, offering treasure and bounty for proof of their former citizen’s demise.
The Storm Peaks is mostly bereft of kingdoms. Habitable territory sparse between the mountain ranges and between the Sons of Hodir, Brunnhildar, Titan constructs and Frostborn there is little territory to be had amongst the frozen peaks. However, from the former goblin town of K3 a single walled city has risen. Known as Alking, it is more a loose confederation of nobles and warlords, dividing the city nearly in half between the titanic Basquet family and more or less everyone else. This has resulted in a somewhat compacted region which, by its very nature, demands certain cooperation and tension amongst its people leading to the most ‘civil’ area in Northrend save Dalaran.
Scholazar Basin is without large castles and such though smaller holdings do exist. It is from necessity that such towns are kept small, any attempt at constructing something of larger scale being met by hordes of strange plant like creatures and Titan constructs, who have crushed the efforts while bellowing about defiling the makers realms.
Icecrown has no warlords or nobles daring to lay their claims. It has been secured under the firm jurisdiction of the Ashen Verdict, who is currently working on dismantling what remains of the Scourge after the Lich King’s fall. No one would risk incurring the wrath of the combined armies of the Argent Crusade and Knights of the Ebon Blade, those who have ignored the warnings being dealt with quickly and often brutally. Incursions by treasure seekers, however, are common place. These expeditions are often funded by an aristocrat of any stripes, largely in the hopes of recovering an artefact of considerable power to be used in their bids for dominance. Such expeditions, however, are naturally extremely dangerous and few return with anything of value, or at all depending on which organization still calling the forbidding realm home finds them first.
This is the continent of Northrend, a land besieged from all sides, of kingdoms set against one another, of royalty new, a clash of kingdoms to whom failure is not an option, all striving towards the goal of being a ruler of these lands. Between roaming bands of brigands, the marching armies of the kingdoms and the ever present threats of Northrend itself, security is something seldom found in these harsh lands.
The war against the Lich King may be over, but by magic, poison, sword and flames, the bloodshed will continue until Northrend has at last been fully claimed!
This is a new RP that takes advantage to the ill defined distances and dimensions of WoW's landmasses. Make your own kingdom, nobles, assassins or whatever else you please, though I hope to try and avoid the idea of the one man army as this RP will try to use non player characters to actual effect rather than just a horde of faceless mooks to be mowed down by one person with impunity.
We'll use the Open Q and A unless it becomes apparent we'll need a different one.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Character
: Faust Kaufman
Description
:
A tall man resembling a human, Faust has jet black hair and sharp green eyes. He wears a black top hat and black swallow tailed waistcoat and white gloves. Carrying a gem topped cane, Faust is nearly always smiling a wide grin of almost disturbing proportion showing his gleaming white teeth for all to see.
Location
: Dalaran
Within the tower of Dalran, the portal connecting the floating city to the earth below flashed with a mystical purple light, a top hatted figure stepping out of the gateway a moment later. His gem topped cane clicked on the paved ground of the tower as he flashed a grin at his surroundings, green eyes studying the vaulting room he had entered swiftly.
Once assured of his location, the man stepped forward, one of the purple robed guards at the door leading into the city proper inclining his head in the top hatted mans direction.
"Faust," the mage greeted with a mild grin of familiarity. "Back for more? What happened to the last batch of merc's you grabbed? Are they all dead already?"
Faust chuckled slightly and shrugged in mock helplessness. "What can I say, this frozen wasteland's thirst for blood is never slaked. Tell me Gregory, is the Legerdemain still the prime gathering place for the militaristic and opportunistic?"
"More or less. Try not to step on any toes though, I'm overworked as is and would rather not have to be called there because of
another
brawl. We're shorthanded as is just keepin' the diplomats from murdering each other outright."
With a grin as he tipped his hat, Faust slipped a gold coin to the mage as he passed. "I'll do my best. The plan is to try and at least get these mercenaries to the battlefield before they die after all."
"Hmph, one way or another I just want some of these bastards out," Gregory answered, not even bothering to test the coin before he slipped it into his pocket. Waving farewell until Faust had slipped in amongst the heaving mass of bodies crowding the streets just outside the tower, the mage returned to his duty of guarding the portal into the city with tired resignation.
Post by
Behelich
Character
: John William Cassidy, Jacques "Jack" Cantelli, Morgan Crane, Bartholomew Wensleydale, Ridley "Red Rid" Glau
Description
:
John William Cassidy
is tall, almost six nine, and gaunt, these features accentuated by a weathered, heavy black leather duster split up the back to hip level and interwoven with metallic reinforcements. His face is almost always obscured by an advanced breather mask, which is in turned covered by a wide gray woolen scarf, and a wide-brimmed black leather hat.
Jacques Cantelli
is a man of medium build, just shy of six feet tall, lean and lanky. He has an open, friendly face and a cocky demeanor, crow's feet at the corners of his eyes hinting of a habit to smile and laugh frequently. His eyes are large and bottle-green, his auburn hair is cut short and on his chin is a stylish goatee, masking a cleft on it. He is wearing flared canvas pants, a pair of leather jackboots, a shirt and a corduroy jacket with silver lining, reaching the middle of his hips.
Morgan Crane
is the second tallest in the group, although nowhere near as tall as Cassidy, at 'measly' six three. He is brawny and broad-shouldered, carrying the weight of full plate armor, of finest steel coin can buy, with negligent ease. He has a long face with prominent chin covered by stubble and sharp cheekbones, large deep-set light-gray eyes and a short ponytail of wiry black hair.
What
Bartholomew Wensleydale
at his five five lacks in height he makes up in width, with round belly and thick limbs, their strength rivaling those even of Crane. He is a balding man in late forties, with a bushy white beard and a permanently red nose. He is wearing simple brown woolen robes, and always carries a formidable keg and a ten feet long cauldron stirrer.
Ridley Glau
is, in two words, pale and frail, red of hair and bright green of eyes, with numerous freckles scattered across his still childish face, around his sharp long nose. He is barely higher than Wensleydale, and in sharp contrast to the latter wears flamboyant attire, purple and gold, with rich embroidery.
Location
: Azjol'Nerub - Upper Reaches
"Why did we agree to this again?" Ridley Glau muttered, massaging his temples as he kept up with the rest of their merry bunch of misfits.
"Cheer up, Freckles, better men than you fell to the conjoined charm of Father Bart's ale and my granny's apple pies. You'll be jumping around glaring at the writings on the walls in a few minutes in any case," Jack grinned, nudging the ginger lightly with his elbow.
"Ain't no ailment Holy Light and light ale can't mend!" Wensleydale raised his finger to the ceiling, cuing a round of mixed laughter and groans.
"See what I have to put up with?" Ridley demanded, facepalming. "Why do we even keep you on the team instead of just dropping by Matron Cantelli's orchard each time we come up with new and exciting ways to end our lives in a midst of ancient evils, horrors, devouring plagues and insanity."
"You forgot things that man was not meant to know," Morgan grinned, idly giving his huge bastard sword he affectionately called 'the Reaver' a spin. "But seriously, without Candle, we'd be outta pies for the rest of our lives. I don't think I can cope with waking up with that thought."
"I told you, Cap, it's Cantelli, not Candle," Jack corrected him mechanically, "And you gotta admit, everyone likes granny's pies."
"I don't. Like pies," came Cassidy's hoarse, emotionless voice, the gaunt man having to pause for one of his loud, labored breaths.
"You don't count, Broody," Cantelli rolled his eyes.
"I don't. Brood."
"Mope, then, same thing," Jack shrugged.
Post by
Atik
-
Howling Fjord
The Vyrkul forces gathered, a body placed before them on an altar: a body of one of the Lich King's mighty warriors sprawled atop it. Cultists of the damned stood around it it the rough shape of a star. Purple, swirling magics spread between them as they chanted in the language of death.
The giant humanoids bowed respectfully for the remains of their King's forces.
The chanted stopped suddenly, the purple blasts shooting from the cultists and into the body, causing it to rise. The figure convulsed, flipping upright and twitching repeatedly before landing on its feet,
She opened her glowing, icy blue eyes, long red hair falling over her back. Her saronite armor was battered, mangled, and crushed and her skin covered in scars and cuts. Much of her beauty was now tarnished, exposed bones dotting her form; most notably the entire left side of her lower jaw exposed.
However, her nine-foot form was no less imposing upon on-lookers, the cultists of the damned now bowing along with the giants around them. She glanced around, stepping down off the altar.
"Well?" She asked a necromancer.
"Lord Sataira..." He replied.
"Don't you have more work to be doing? I want you making an army!" She spat, the cultist nodding. The death knight stepped onward, the necromancers and Vyrkuls alike rising to their feet. "You." She stated, pointing at one of the giants. "I'll be needing to armor." She stated. The giant nodded, stepping off.
"And someone..." She growled, looking around. "Where the fel is my SWORD?"
Post by
Morec0
Character: Lord Morec - House of Rivendare, Demens Company
Location: Southern Coast, Howling Fjord
Description
:
The self-styled "Lord" Morec, of the House of Rivendare, has met death and been reanimated in undeath on three seperate occasions. The second death and reanimation drove him quite mad, but the third death and rebirth drove him sane - or so he claims it did. A set of events that landed him in the Stormwind Vault prison for a time, but after being freed from it and fulfilling his end of a bargin he returned and released a number of the most insane and powerful criminals in the Vault. The group fled Stormwind and vanished, now resurfacing in the Howling Fjord of Northrend - armed to the teeth and looking to set claim to some land.
Races: Morec is a male Forsaken death knight, the Demens Company - a group of roughly 97 individuals - is comprised of many different races, genders, and classes; but there is one constant amongst them, they're all completely insane.
The small group of vrykul collapsed into rotting masses of flesh and bone. The death knight stepped forward onto the shore, Armageddon balanced on his shoulder. "Ahhh, Howling Fjord. It's been far too long." He turned back to look at his associates, mad grins plastered on the faces of some, others wore scowls and others seemed completely emotionless.
"Alright boys and girls, we've got a lot of work ahead of us. Set up camp and get a few scounting parties out, I'd say we've got a few hours before our hosts realize we're here. Let's get ready to kill them all!" The Company of criminally insane individuals set out quickly, a group of ten heading out to scout the area while the rest began to set up tents to serve as a base camp untill they could make more perminant dwellings.
Morec smiled and watched the progress.
First a kingdom of monsters, then a world of them
, he thought with a malicious grin.
Post by
Atik
Vivias Blindhawk, Susan Hopewell
Azjol'Nerub
Vivias Blindhawk
is a female Night Elf, and one whom is wuite a few thousand years old. She is a demon hunter, weilding a rather non-ornate warglaive in her single arm, the other being severed at the shoulder and little more than a stump. She has shoulder-length purple hair, wearing a long brown dress and the iconic black blindfold.
Susan Hopewell
is a human woman, pushing into her thirties. She has long black hair, pale skin, thick gold and bronze plate armor, and weilds a large, spiked mace.
The two women looked at the approaching group. "Why do we always get stuck with whack-jobs?" Vivias groaned in annoyance.
Susan shrugged. "I usually get a kick out of it." She chuckled. Vivi swore under hear breath, and Susan sighed, turning to meet the newcomers.
Post by
Behelich
Character
: John William Cassidy, Jacques "Jack" Cantelli, Morgan Crane, Bartholomew Wensleydale, Ridley "Red Rid" Glau
Location
: Azjol'Nerub
"Heard that, Father Bart?" Jack chuckled, "You won't refuse an invitation to Whack-a-Bug, will ya?"
Wensleydale smiled back and lifted his cauldron stirrer, beginning to say something when Ridley cut in, "Technically, bugs are down south, in Silithus. Here they're more-"
"Arthropodian-Northendian," Morgan said with a pokerface.
"Reminds me, two trolls and an orc walk into a bar..." Cantelli drawled, and in turn was cut off by Cassidy, "Two weeks ago. You told this one."
"Well maybe I know
many
inappropriate speciesist jokes about two trolls and an orc," Jack folded his arms on his chest and frowned.
"And all of them in a bar?" Glau muttered.
Post by
Atik
Vivias, Susan
Azjol'Nerub
"I wouldn't mind hearing it." Susan interjected, waving.
"And I'm assuming you lot are here to help us out?" Vivi deadpanned.
Sataira
Howling Fjord
Sataira stood on a large stone outcropping, looking out over the Fjord. Her cobalt armor shimmered for a moment, not yet dirtied and scratched by battle. A massive sword was slung over her back: her runeblade.
"This is all that is left of the King's kingdom... pathetic..." She mused.
Post by
Behelich
Character
: John William Cassidy, Jacques "Jack" Cantelli, Morgan Crane, Bartholomew Wensleydale, Ridley "Red Rid" Glau
Location
: Azjol'Nerub
"So the trolls fall over, then get up and try again and fall over one more time. And the orc asks, 'What's wrong with you two?' And they answer, "It's 'angin' too low, mon, we canna crouch furtha!" Jack grinned.
"Meaning. They walk into a bar. As in oblong object," Cassidy supplied.
"Dang it, Broody, don't explain my jokes!"
Crane facepalmed, than waved at the two, "Hello, ladies-"
"One more goddamn time of 'look at your something now back to me' and I swear to you, Morgan, I swear I will punch your nose inwards," Glau threatened.
"Ahem. As I was saying, hello, ladies. If you're here to set everything undead on fire, pillage valuables and enjoy the marvelous late Aqir architecture, then yes indeed," Morgan deadpanned.
Post by
Atik
Vivias, Susan
Azjol'Nerub
Susan blinked, suddenly very sorry she had asked to hear the rest of the joke.
Vivias grumbled. "Well then, let's get a move on." She stated, drawing her blade.
Susan nodded. "I'm Susan Hopewell, and this is my... uh... partner; Vivias Blindhawk."
"Call me Vivi... or else." The demon hunter added, snearing.
Post by
Morec0
Character:
Lord Morec - House of Rivendare
, Demens Company
Location: Southern Coast, Howling Fjord
Morec flew over the Fjord on the back of Blu, muching on a leg of vrykul as he surveyed the land. "Let's see, once we finish the construction of Insanity Habor we'll set up Murderville over there," he looked to his right, "and then Slaughterburg over there." They were all placeholder names, of course, but the locations to be used and the blueprints for the towns were clear in his mind. "And right there, there we'll put New Stratholme and Rivendare Fortress," he put a hand on his chin and he looked at Utgarde Fortress. "Of course, that relic will have to go."
Post by
Behelich
Character
: John William Cassidy, Jacques "Jack" Cantelli, Morgan Crane, Bartholomew Wensleydale, Ridley "Red Rid" Glau
Location
: Azjol'Nerub
"Name's Morgan Crane. The rest of the coterie are Johnnie-"
"John. William."
"Right, Jooohn. Wiiiilliiam. Cassidy, Jacq- Jack Cantelli, Father Bartholomew and Rid."
"Ridley Glau, Th. D., at your service," Glau bowed formally.
"You gonna get your second major finished when?" Jack nudged him.
"Can't decide between abjuration and enchantment," Ridley admitted. "Was considering the former, but, you know, with Morgan always in the front to take the punches..."
Post by
Mojoworkn
Character:
Ava Killian
Location:
Legerdemain Lounge - Dalaran
Ava is a one hundred and twenty two year old high elf who has an obsession with books. Rather than spend her time practicing and taming her magical aptitude as her father wished, Ava spent her time indulging on books in the grand libraries of Silvermoon City. Because of her bookish nature, she has a vast array of knowledge of most anything magical. Whenever Ava is faced with a problem, she turns to books or her logic for the answer. While she does a few simple spells, her magical abilities are lackluster--though she does carry with her a great magical affinity.
Her body is shaped like a typical female high elf. She is tall--5'6''--and slender with brilliant azure eyes that almost glow in the dark. Ava has long blonde hair that she keeps tucked behind her ears--though she always has the occasional strands of hair that falls in to her face.
During the wars in the North, she acts a nurse treating those who are wounded from the harsh reality just outside of Dalaran.
The bustling beneath the thin second floors of the Legerdemain Lounge did nothing to faze Ava from her duties as a healer. The moans from the wounded matched the sound of the mercenary's exuberant shouts from below. Ava was quickly working from patient to patient, using her left hand to hold up a book entitled
Cuts, Bruises and Amputations
while her right hand magically wrapped the men and women in simple bandages.
She came to a man with red streaks across his right arm, signifying even to the untrained eye that he was infected with blood poisoning. "I should have read that book on medicine," she murmured, remembering a book she had found in the library a few days ago.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Character
: Faust Kaufman
Location
: Dalaran, Legerdemain
With barely a sound Faust slipped through the door of the Legerdemain, sliding along the wall like a shadow to avoid attention. He scanned the group of mercenaries and sell swords composing the crowd, his brow wrinkling slightly in displeasure at the raucous group. It was a veritable hodgepodge of humanoids, all heaving like a great shapeless mass of clattering steel and creaking leathers; shouts, cries and proclamations from the crowd filled the air in a hazy, drunken clamor.
Pulling forth one of the posters he had scattered about the city and recruiting agencies, he realized that maybe advertising that he would be interviewing sell swords in the tavern had not been the best plan.
But what could he say, it was tradition.
Faust glanced around, his smile widening slightly when he noticed the second level of the tavern, seemingly mostly empty. Slapping his last poster onto the wall he quickly skirted the crowd, aiming for the stairs. Stepping over the odd drunk, Faust ascended the steps to the second level, pausing when he faced the mess of wounded above.
"Oh for Forger's sake..."
Post by
Levarus
Katuik the Warrior
Kamagua, Howling Fjord
Katuik is an elder-warrior and a leader to his people. His highly-sought position as Tuskar leader of Kamagua has been upheld for nearly twelve years. Expanding the Tuskar across the entirety of the isle, Katuik fishes daily as well as receives constant death-threats from the neighboring Vyrkul nation. He is a normal looking Tuskar with a Spear named Icepoint and a magical net used for catching orcas as well as enemies. Katuik seeks whats best for his people as well as glorifying his somewhat third-world nation into a dominant foothold on Northrend.
Treading cross the snow-plotched earth, Katuik walked towards the Frozen Shore. Dozens of Tuskar armed with spears and fur adorned shields rode Orcas aimlessly in the seas, practicing for a naval battle on their water dwelling mounts. Light barricades and reinforced huts were being constructed all around, Katuik's hard-working people struggling to expand their ancient colony. Turning around, Katuik could see a cacophony of words, ten turtle riders with spears adjutted forward encircling a large death knight.
It was a Vyrkul, one of the few remaining that excelled at the Lich King's ways. Katuik held his hand up dismissively, letting his ground-soldiers retreat of their tenacious grasp on the unwelcome forecomer. "You know why I'm here." said the lumbering Vyrkul, his raspy voice demandful.
"No, I've told you before, we only wish to settle on this isle and near the Ancient Lift, your kind is no longer welcome here. Not after that incident where your drunken clansmen threw my people off the ledge. Go away." But as Katuik turned away, he was grabbed by the Vyrkul deathknight, his turtle riders rushing to his aid again.
"I will go as you demand. But I will come back. Not alone either." he said laughing, his dark-plated obsidian hands releasing Katuik.
"He threatens us!" yelled one of the War-Turtle Riders. "We should kill him on the spot, give the Orcas a taste of Vyrkul! If it's not the Vyrkul, it will just be the Kvaldir that end us! Why not take one down!"
Katuik held his hand up in a gesture of irritation. "Lest we become no better then our foes. It would not be honorable. Release him, we'll be ready for an attack." said Katuik, gazing off into the horizon as a fleet of ravens loomed drearily in the skies, circling the salt smelled air above him.
So be it
...he thought of Elder Ko'nani.
Post by
Mojoworkn
Character:
Ava Killian
Location:
Legerdemain Lounge - Dalaran
"Oh!" Ava let out when she bumped in to the man that had just reached the stair's landing. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Busy, as you can tell." Ava turned before the man could respond, adjusting her glasses to read from her book as she injected a vile smelling liquid in to a groaning man's arm.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Character
: Faust Kaufman
Location
: Dalaran, Legerdemain
"Indeed, so I can see," Faust replied, his nose wrinkling slightly at the stench. He glanced over her, an eyebrow arching slightly in interest as he watched her work distractedly. "Forgive me for asking, but is it wise to carry that book around while you do so?"
Post by
Mojoworkn
Character:
Ava Killian
Location:
Legerdemain Lounge - Dalaran
"You're absolutely right!" she said in sudden realization. Ava snapped her fingers, causing the book to levitate slightly above her left shoulder. "There. That should do it." She hurriedly went to attend to a gaping hole in the side of a female soldier.
"Is there something you need?" Ava asked the man as she clenched the woman's side with a bloody rag.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Character
: Faust Kaufman
Location
: Dalaran, Legerdemain
"Arms and armies to fight under my employer's banner. But at the moment some space and silence will do, which cannot be easily found on the ground floor I'm sad to say," he said as he followed Ava lightly, peeking at the wounded soldier from over her unoccupied shoulder.
Post by
Levarus
Katuik the Warrior
Kamagua, Howling Fjord
Pulling his long fishing pole uneasily, a fish ambitiously leaped into the air biting down on the glow-worm bait with the appetite of a thousand. Katuik rotated the spinning control on the pole as the hungry fish came to the land above. Fishing had always been a hobby to Katuik, a time where he could think, where he could retreat from the daunting realism of the Fjord. It was like entering another phase completely, one where he could relax and soothe himself with the rejuvenating smell and feel of the seas. As he reeled in the catch, a voraciously angered Glacial Salmon with bleeding gums was his. As Katuik took the desperately breathing fish off his pole and began to butcher it on a nearby wooden surface, his cousin Wak'luk came into view.
Flopping and hungry, the fish died within Katuik's hands, a bloodied knife removing its head. "Great-Uncle, Chieftan Katuik." said Wak'luk, the eager trainee within the Kamagua Turtle-Riders.
"What is it, Wak'luk?" said Katuik, not taking his eyes off his prized dinner.
"I just want you to know." Wak'luk began. "Whatever comes, however strong the tide may be, our people will be ready, my spear will be decorated with the blood of a thousand Vyrkul berserkers. This village will not fall while I stand."
Katuik met his nephew's gaze briskly. "I thank you for your assurance." he said in a somewhat irritated tone. "But are you so eager for bloodshed? For our people to die side-by-side at the hands of some tyrannical madman leagues away?"
Wak'luk hesitated. "Yes." he said. "Yes I am."
"Well then I wish the best of luck a withered old Tuskar such as myself can possibly offer. I shall pray humbly to the ancestral spirits tonight for their protection." Katuik said as Wak'luk nodded.
Just then an annoying pain stabbed at his brain. The memories of the ominous ravens high in the skies above. He swayed his head dismissing the thought and returned his focus to the fish, the thought retreating to the shadows in the back of his mind. "Now go, you must help the others and your father, my brother, build the breach. I will stay here and eat this fish. For it might just be my last." said Katuik. Wak'luk nodded before taking a last look and running off with his freshly-forged spear.
Yes, my last fish
, thought Katuik, taking a quick glance at
Icepoint
, it's enchanted steel glimmering in the evening sun. Just then a maddening phase of anger coursed through him, as he took the spear up and penetrated the fish with it, breaking the wooden surface and bloodening the spear.
But not, however, my last kill.
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