Post Your Amusements!

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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Fenrìr » Mon Oct 07, 2013 11:27 am

Watching Treckie's stream and chuckle at how he's practically falling asleep. Sort of reminds me of, well, me. lol
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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Sagara » Tue Oct 08, 2013 7:50 am

I was planning on writing some sort of goodbye to my beloved Queldan, but as I began writing the intro, I just kept going and going, so I'm just gonna break it up in parts and post them here, then find someplace to host the whole crap :-p

Chapter 1: Bleeding Sun

Quel’danas was in flames once again, filled with the crackling of fire and the wails of the dead and dying. The quel’dorei warrior took a minute to survey her surroundings, shield and sword at the ready. The stench of corpses was unmistakable, despite the battle being less than a day old. Then again, the very nature of the enemy had made the rotting stench all but a given.

Arthas. The human prince had gone mad by all accounts, raising a gigantic army of undead from his kingdom and striking through the Eastern Kingdoms like a rot-encrusted knife, striking all the way to Quel’thalas. The Rangers had fought as best they could, but it had all been pointless in the end – all that was left was to save as many as possible.

And maybe that would not even be enough. Beyond the horror of seeing fine warriors rise in shambling undeath, beyond the unpossible stench, both physical and magical, one simple, overriding feeling had struck the woman. It felt as if her soul had been hollowed out, drained of all will and drive. She looked back at the warriors alongside her, and their blue eyes spoke the same truth: something was gone, and none of them could say just what; apart from how empty it made them feel.


“Captain? What is going on?” He was the youngest of the soldiers, barely out of the Academy. In kinder times, she would have chided him for trembling like a soaked kitten, but today, she didn’t have time to care.

“I don’t know, Private. It seems we got lucky – I had heard about the entire Undead horde heading to the island. It seems we made a mistake believing they’d circle and come from the North, and along the beaches East and West. The main force probably struck the southern wall.

-Across the channel? There’s no way anyone could cross without a boat of some sort.

-Private, we’re not talking about orcs or trolls. These things don’t breathe. Coast seems clear. If we play our cards right, we could reach Magister’s Terrace without much opposition – if their objective is indeed the Sunwell, we could hole up there a while. Maean! How are the children? Could we make it to the Terrace?”


She looked back at her second-in-command who was trying to play babysitter best as he could for the twenty-something kids they had found in the island nursery. They were children of guardsman, magisters and all kind of important people that had given the right to stay on the isle while their parents performed their duties.


“We won’t run there, Anael, not with the youngest, but they’re mostly okay, just stress- Ow! watch the hair, Nalyna!”
Maean chuckled a bit as he gently undid the little girl’s grip on his brown hair. Anael couldn’t quite suppressed a smile until something pulled at her tabard.

-Mommy? Is everything O.K.? You don’t look well.”


The little boy looked up at her and she was startled not to see much fear – perhaps he had not realized how bad the situation seemed to her adult eyes. Anael Feathwing, High Guard of Quel’thalas gave in to a moment of respite and hugged her boy.
“It’s O.K. honey. Mommy’s just busy with work, is all. Stay with Uncle Maean until I’m done, okay? Off you go!”

When the boy was back with the other kids, she refocused on the street ahead. A couple hundred yards separated them from the path that rose to Magister’s Terrace. With its gates knocked down and used as barricade, that was certainly the most defensible building apart from the Sunwell chambers themselves, and was isolated enough to not become collateral target on the way to anything.

The shore and pier was another option, but that implied hoping the boats hadn’t sunk yet, and that there wouldn’t be –
A gigantic roar exploded above Anael as the sun died above her. The children began screaming in unison and it was all she do to look up to see.

Bones. FLYING BONES, enough to completely blot out the sun. When its leathely wings bflapped lazily in the evening air, she realized what she was looking at – Arthas had not stopped at raising humans.

“Dragons. By the Sunwell, they have undead DRAGONS?”
As if she wasn’t afraid enough of the flying bat-creatures out on the open sea. If dragons began unloading on the meager vessels the pier held, they would be butchered or drowned. Well, it was better than being murdered and raised as undead, but not by such a big margin. Anael took her helm that had stood on her side since they had hidden in the nursery.

“Gentlemen, it seems our course is clear – we must head to Magister’s Terrace and reinforce whatever position we have there. With the blessing of the Sunwell, we might be able to mount scouting parties to find and gather survivors with us once our position is strong enough.”

She began outlining objectives and strategic information. There were too few of them to mount a proper running trail for the children – they would have to stay in one tight group all the way to the Terrace’s safety.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had been a fool, and the children – her son - would die for her foolishness.

This was not a battle of conquest. It was flat-out genocide. The undead had spotted them from the air and the onslaught had begun only halfway to the Terrace. Maean’s screams had only begun to fade and she dared not think what must have happened to him when the ghoul had knocked him to the ground.

At least the fastest kids had reached the Terrace and friendly faces had sprung out of the gate to haul the children inside. The familiar smell of sulfur heralded a barrage of fireballs that whistled past her, reducing the fastest monstrosities to cinders. A wicked smile crossed her face as she faced the endless waves that followed. Backup, at least.


“To me, guardsmen! Slow retreat, shields up! Nothing past us until we reach the gates!”

Only two soldiers were still alive – the young private and Tandron. Nothing much to work with, but maybe that would be enough.
And then what? She wondered. The undead won’t stop when the gates are closed. They’ll wear us to death. The Terrace won’t be a fortress – it’s going to be a deathtrap.

And it was all she could think – the first zombie crashed against her shield and all three began hacking away at the shambling horrors, stepping back so slowly it felt like they did not move at all.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Waaaaaaait! Mother’s still out there!”


The little boy fought with all the might a six-year-old could muster, but the Magister was too much for him. Still he held fast to the edge of the door, craning his neck to see the battle ahead.

"-How many of those things are there? I’m running low on arrows!

-Get to the armory then! And bring some spare for us! And mana potions for Silverspear!

-Take the children with you! Barricade them in the Grand Magister’s Asylum!


High Guard Featherwing held a good fight, but the sheer overwhelming numbers of undead threatened to clip them at any time. There, the guard on her left had fallen. Everything would crumble from there on. Hamaren Lightwood made peace with his death, and knocked another arrow.

And yet the impossible seemed to happen – in the thight walkway to the terrace, the undead would not manage to outflank the pair of guards, and their fury seemed sufficient to hold the tide at bay.

"Silverspear, they need to break off! Give them something!"

Another fireball flew, and Hamaren felt again the slow hum of magic gather behind him. But it kept growing. And growing.

"High guard! Get ready to -!"

Silence fell on the battlefield, replaced a second later by a brilliant flash. An immense wall of fire crossed from the Terrace’s wall all the way to the cliff on the Western side of the walkway. The two guardsman finished off the ghoul that had mostly made it intact, then made a break for the gate.

"-High Guard!

-Report!” Anael shouted, panting. “And thank you.

-Captain Hamaren Lightwood, m’lady. We have fortified this position a little over an hour ago. There’s nince of us, plus fifty civilians and Magister Silverspear right here. By the Sunwell, what is going out out there?

-Hell has come to take us, Captain.” Anael kept looking back at the wall of flame. A few undead dared the fire, but their screams made it clear that they would not make it through. She looked back at Silverspear, who was straining to maintain the enchantment. It seemed they were on the clock, as it were. “We need to tear that door down!

-WHAT? But how do we get out?

-We’ll think about that later – first think about not letting those things in! Have we got explosives?” Hamaren nodded with his head. The wheels in Anael’s head began spinning, taking stock of what she had available until her mind hit a wall. “The children?

-Safe and sound in the Asylum, High Guard.

-Prepare the explosives, and keep providing Silverspear all the mana she needs.” She took off her gloves and went for the gunpowder barrel. “Come on, everyone pick all the gunpowder they can! Move!”
When that day comes, seek all the light and wonder of this world, and fight.

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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Flex » Tue Oct 08, 2013 12:53 pm

former GM stopped playing in 5.1. Just renewed recently. First two Celestial kills Tier pants and Tier legs.
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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Amirya » Tue Oct 08, 2013 1:30 pm

Was trying to email a coworker about Supernatural, but someone else in the company in IL shares the same name, so it was sent to her instead (the email system blows hard).

Whoooops.

But turns out, she loves the show too, and we're discussing past seasons and tonight's premiere now :lol:
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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Fetzie » Tue Oct 08, 2013 3:09 pm

4 people attack me for bloody coins, I bubble-hearth.

I love that minor glyph.
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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Koatanga » Tue Oct 08, 2013 3:44 pm

Flex wrote:former GM stopped playing in 5.1. Just renewed recently. First two Celestial kills Tier pants and Tier legs.

Pants and legs?
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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Klaudandus » Tue Oct 08, 2013 3:57 pm

Koatanga wrote:
Flex wrote:former GM stopped playing in 5.1. Just renewed recently. First two Celestial kills Tier pants and Tier legs.

Pants and legs?


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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Amirya » Tue Oct 08, 2013 4:31 pm

Koatanga wrote:
Flex wrote:former GM stopped playing in 5.1. Just renewed recently. First two Celestial kills Tier pants and Tier legs.

Pants and legs?

The legs are the actual piece of armor to protect against blows. The pants are the thin material worn underneath the legs to prevent chafing. Pants are a predecessor of underwear. *knowledgeable nod*

Actually, I was wondering that too, and figured maybe he just got two tokens.
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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Klaudandus » Tue Oct 08, 2013 8:04 pm

a raider has a crush on sean connery, so I showed her Zardoz
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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Flex » Tue Oct 08, 2013 9:15 pm

Pants and gloves!
We live in a society where people born on third base constantly try to steal second, yet we expect people born with two strikes against them to hit a homerun on the first pitch.
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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Sagara » Wed Oct 09, 2013 1:07 am

Chapter 2: The Knight and the Dead

Magister’s Terrace was an immense building, in the eyes of a child. But even the slowest and most clumsy of children would manage to find hiding spots left and right in the meandering pathways of this place. And Anael’s son had been taught to be anything but slow or dull.

He had slipped past his guardians fairly early, when they had reached the Assembly Chamber – stairs are often a good place for someone small to slip away unnoticed. His biggest fear was that another child would sound an alarm to annoy him, but everyone was probably too afraid to notice every coming and going.

He waited for a few, silent minutes, his own breath his only companion before bolting again for the entrance. His mother was still out there was still in danger, and he’d rather stare down an Orc than leave her behind. He was extra careful moving through the Observation Platform, trying not to draw attention. He’d reach the entrance soon enough, provided none of the adults thought about looking to the other side of the railing…


Magister Silverspear was quickly reaching her last legs, but progress was fast enough that there was still hope. As Anael kneeled to pick her sword back up, a dread chill went down her spine. And something odd struck her.

The undead had gone silent. Their smell was still heavy in the air, but there was not a single joint clicking or ghoul keening on the other side of the wall of flame. That wasn’t normal . What could have silenced the abominations? They had plenty of time, so they probably didn’t wander off. Unless…

Her eyes flew wide at the dawning realization, and she raised her sword arm in alarm as a streak of green energy flew across the wall of fire and struck Silverspear right in the shoulder. She let out a small gasp as she lost her balance and concentration and her hand flew to a corrugated hole where her arm would have joined her body. As the flames died out, a too-skinny horse walked forward, holding a too-pale human clad in wicked black armor and deep blue cloth. He considered the dead Magister with a smug smile before he faced the rest of the elves with smug disdain.


“Mortals. I am the Duke Dreadmoore, and I have come bearing a message from my lord, the King of Lordearon Arthas the First. I have been permitted to use any means necessary to bring and comply with his edict, as follows: (his voice took a haunting, almost singsong tune) I, Arthas the First, King of Lordaeron, Duke of Brill, Count of Anhorhal, Hearthglen and Stratholme, and Death Knight to the Lich King, to all inhabitants of Quel’thalas, elven or otherwise, I speak. Your kingdom is now a principality of Lordaeron, and the line of Anasterian Sunstrider is officially stripped of its titles and lands. All of you that accept Lordearon as their new sovereign nation will be offered mercy, a swift death, and be raised to become part of my kingdom. The rest will serve as food for my troops as long as my necromancers will be able to keep them alive. Should you consider resistance, your souls will be made to serve in eternal torment. The Duke Dreadmoore has been permitted to handle all new Lordaeron citizens, as well as all traitors, as detailed in this message. (The Death Knight shuddered for a moment, lifting his hand to his head). What say you, elves? (His face spread in a frightening grin as he released his sword ever so slowly for his scabbard.) I confess to prefer that you would resist, but my Lord, in his grace, has given you one minute to choose before you are considered to have refused our offer.”

Anael felt her face drained of all blood. The Duke alone would be a formidable opponent, but without Silverspear and a inhuman wave of ghouls and other unspeakable things, there was not a glimmer of hope for any of them.

“Captain Hamaren? (He shouted his acknowledgment) Take everyone inside, while I negotiate with Arthas’ emissary.”

They traded a long look, and her stare told mountains. Hamaren did not say a single word back, but began ordering the soldiers back inside when a shrill voice broke his concentration.

“Mommy?”

Anael felt as if an arrow had slammed her and did her level best not to flinch. Her son was there, looking over the broken remains of the door. Immediately, two soldiers picked him up and jogged away as fast as they could holding a struggling child that kept on crying. She took a last long look at her child, who stared back through tear-filled eyes. She smiled as he slipped away in the corridors.

Something worth dying for. She turned with the same loving smile still on her face and faced the Duke, taken aback with her expression, before composing himself again with a small laugh.
“Negotiate? There are no terms to negotiate in my lord’s edict.”

Still smiling, she sheathed her sword and went scuffling inside her tunic, near her heart.

“- Truly Duke? Because I have here a document that I believe you will find most interesting.
- Speak, then, woman. You are wasting everyone’s time.”

She produced a scroll sealed with a single feather which she broke with a simple effort of will. It was her new family’s seal, the name she took when she was wed – Featherwing. As the scroll unfurled, the writing began sizzling an angry red, turning her loving smile vicious and feral.
“This, dear Duke, is a gift from my husband. It has been made for an occasion quite like this one.”

The Duke’s steed had time for one step forward when the rune holding the flamestrike gave in, and Anael’s world exploded in fire and pain. Her left ear managed to hear secondary detonations, confirming the powder had exploded as well. As she felt her spirit go, she remembered all her friends in the guard, her beloved husband, and her children.
“Pelath, my love. Queldan, Beloria. Please be happy. Please remember m-“

And all was dark.
Last edited by Sagara on Thu Oct 10, 2013 6:53 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Klaudandus » Wed Oct 09, 2013 5:48 am

Got all 3 shields from LFR in a single night, without any coins.
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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Klaudandus » Wed Oct 09, 2013 10:36 am

http://vikingcarrot.tumblr.com/post/635 ... e-start-of

dancingoctolusus asked:Ok, so, I havent played WoW since the start of Cataclysm. What the hell happened, and why is Grom's son being a shit and ruining the horde? And what is going on in the world, other than Deathwing?

A:The Deathwing problem has been neatly solved and the dragon aspects have lost their immortality or some shit. The mists somewhere below the Maelstrom have lifted and now there’s Pandaland, populated by pandas, also little old-man hamster merchants, also bipedal carpmen, also emotionally-stunted monkey-men, also bipedal horrors that are a cross between a praying mantis and the giant wasp of your nightmares. Oh and also a big problem with big stone demon things called Mogu who think they own the place and have allied with the Zandalari and all the other non-Horde trolls to gain control of Pandaland in order to… uh, have control of Pandaland.

Grom’s son is an uppity little bitch who thinks he needs to be great like his dad, but go about doing so in the same wretched way, by declaring the orc race superior to any other and embarking on an ambitious quest to take over Azeroth, but first he needs to alienate all the other races of the Horde and piss them right off too, thus ensuring that they will eventually rebel under Vol’jin and join forces with the Alliance to kick his sorry ass out of Orgrimmar. Which is fitting, since he’s kicked prettymuch everyone else out of Orgrimmar too.

Haha, well okay, I’m lying— actually he’s killed most of them and used plenty of the goblins and trolls as target practice for the Kor’kron fascists. Also he blew up Theramore with a giant mana bomb. Theramore is literally a crater on the map now, and Jaina is basically a batshit textbook villainess whose entire developed character has gone completely to shit because lol epic gameplay is more important than consistent, well-written plot and lore amirite?

Also there is Sha, which is totally not the same tired old-god-corruption plot device except it totally is, and Garrosh thinks using it to make his orc army super-powerful is a terrific idea so off he’s gone and unleashed more of that and totally broken the divine, eternal golden vale of utter majesty in the middle of Pandaland. The pandas are not happy. Nobody’s really happy honestly.

Thrall remains a castrated little weenie who does extremely little to deal with the raving maniac he put in the position of Warchief because he’s too busy playing happy families with his wife and new baby, to the point where even the total destruction of Theramore isn’t enough for him to do anything more than just kind of turn up and go ‘oh, hey Jaina. Sorry about that. I’m not gonna say anything to Garrosh or anything though… .. Wait what do you mean we can’t we be friends any more? :(’ and off he rides into the sunset to disappear completely until everything has gone way beyond the point of utter shit.

Anduin Wrynn has made friends with Wrathion, the Black Prince, who is a pompous yet incredibly stylish little shit who thinks he is the last remaining black dragon (he forgot about Outland, poor dear) and also apparently thinks the name ‘Wrathion’ is really cool because he chose it himself. Together, they’re going to have stacks of fantastic underaged sex save the world from Sargeras, when he eventually gets off his lazy ass and turns up in another half a dozen expansions or so. You know, maybe. Assuming Wrathion isn’t totally evil. He probably is.

Varian’s hair is still glorious. So is Lor’themar’s.
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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Era » Wed Oct 09, 2013 11:56 am

Spot on. :lol:

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Re: Post Your Amusements!

Postby Sagara » Thu Oct 10, 2013 6:49 am

Chapter 3: Blood Rites

Even tethering on the brink of war, Pandaria was a magnificent place. The profound oranges of the sky heralded the first light of dawn, and I had taken upon himself to witness the beauty of the celestial orb, despite the biting cold of Northern Kun-Lai.

Although I had only arrived a year ago, Pandaria already felt more home than any other city the Horde could enter unmolested. Silvermoon’s ruins were being rebuilt, but it would take years before he could recognize the sights of my childhood. I wrinked his nose at the thought of the Undercity before mulling over Orgrimmar.

Things had changed there, and certainly not for the better. I had walked there a few times in the past months, and I guessed that only my own fearsome armor had stopped the Kor’kron from harassing me. Battle lines were being drawn, and Garrosh and Vol’Jin were already sniping at each other across the Barrens.

Luckily, the impact on Pandaria had been minimal so far. Of course, the Pandaren were furious at the excavation in the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, but at the very least factional tension both inside the Horde and with the Alliance were limited to angry bar brawls and personal vendettas. But nevertheless, life went on for the inhabitants of the Misty Land and its traditions remained untouched. And that was exactly why I was in Kun-Lai today.

The White Tiger’s Tournament of Strength was a very ancient tradition, older than ever the Elven kingdom of Quel’thalas – founded in the legend of the Emperor Shao hao. Tales spoke of how he came for the warriors that Xuen had trained for years, requesting them in his desperate bid to stop the Shattering. The legend states that in the end, the Emperor fought a thousand Pandaren by himself, and was humbled by the warriors’ patience and dedication to Xuen’s precepts of honorable war. He left without his army, giving a simple edict to these men and women – the ancestor of the Shado-Pan - that they would be tasked with stopping the Sha at any cost.

And over the years, people came to celebrate the Emperor’s lesson of patience and dedication, while the Shado-pan had the opportunity to display their power and awe children and adult alike. Those display slowly evolved in a full-fledged tournament, held under the auspices of the White Tiger, which was open to anyone who would dare challenge the Shado-pan. For some reason, Xuen had seen fit to have the tournament remain constantly open ever since the Alliance and Horde had come. Maybe he believed now was a good time to display the strength of honor on a daily basis.

Not that I would mind – I had been struck in awe the first time he had seen the White Tiger Temple - a magnificent palace of stone and marble, swept by the snowy winds of Kun-Lai. I had also felt a particular kinship with the Tiger Celestial and had gone on to try and emulate his fur on my armor. I was a known quantity in the tournament, fighting every time I could afford half a day off duty.

Today was no different – and I had been matched against Brewmaster Chani, a young Pandaren monk that was the pride of her village. We had fought a few times already, and while I held the upper hand, she was smart enough to always bring a fresh challenge. We came face to face in a secluded gazebo when Xuen made his entrance and began his countdown.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Begin!”

Draeon telegraphed an overhead strike with his broadsword. The man was closer to an orc than an elf – all muscle and fury, and he lunged high and far to reach me. It had been a decent move – I was still encumbered enough by my shield to not be able to dodge effectively, and the blow was strong enough to shatter bone even through the shield. But fights aren’t won by the strength alone.

I plunged to his chest, making any kind of swing unwieldy at best. Unable to stop mid-motion, shield and orc-elf met in a loud thump and half a second later, my light, swift saber was at the man’s throat who raised a hand in defeat.

“Enough!” the teacher’s voice was harsh and clearly annoyed. A bout wasn’t meant to last two blows – it would teach a student nothing. The old elf shoved me without much care back to my place on the circle he’d drawn in the grounds. “Draeon! What in the world were you thinking? If it had been spike instead of a sword Queldan was wielding, you’d be in infirmary by now!”

The lesson went on for the better part of an hour, and I mostly waited it out. It was, after all, my last morning among master Sundown… No, master Blooddawn’s class, and almost everyone had been aware of the fact. After all, they did have a roaring party the night before – one where Draeon might have been drinking more than was wise – to celebrate my entry into adult life. Still, I took a second to smile and wave at a girl filling up the drinks on the student’s table for the midday break. She answered in kind with a slight smile and a wink in her green eyes – she was Tiraiel, if memory served. One of the younger priests that had volunteered to help in the training grounds for her first assignment. We had talked a bit the evening before, and who knew? She did seem the sweet girl.


It took another hour for the lesson to finish and then another one to finally be done with the congratulations from everyone in the class and a bit of hazing on the side. When I finally managed to clear the training grounds, I was soaking wet (from being dumped in the lake) and laughing (from dumping Draeon when I got back) when I realized someone had been quietly waiting outside the circle.

“Private! You came!
-I ought to have you in chains for that, young man. I haven’t been a private for five years now!
-You can’t make a tiger change its stripes. I’m glad you came.
-I’m glad I was available. I can’t help but think your mother would want me to be there in her stead. I am the last of the old unit, after all.”
I felt my smile melt. “Yeah. I just hope I could ask her whether she agreed to it.
- This is your life now, boy. Had she been alive, you’d probably have thrown her opinion back in her face, sneering about “living your life” or some nonsense. At least that’s what my girl does.” His face grew grave. “Still, I wanted to talk to you on the way to Fastrider Square.” Silence fell for a while as they set on their way, unsettling me.

“Queldan, I’m not sure what you’re planning on doing today is wise.
- At least I’m not the only one worrying about that.” Private lifted an eyebrow inquisitively. “I’m not too worried that the order is so young. It’s just that… It feels like we’re playing with something we don’t understand. For all I know, I’m planning to damn myself and turn in some kind of Wretched along the line.” This time, both eyebrows shot in surprise.

“Smart. But that’s not what I’m worried about, boy. After all, we did rebuild the city using some kind of demonic energy and Rommath, for all his bluster and superiority complex, seems to have our well-being in mind. I’m talking about a more practical problem.” He let the word slide another moment. “I don’t trust the Blood Knights. And I don’t trust Liadrin either. And I don’t think you should trust them with your life.
-I don’t see why not. They spearheaded a new source of power for our people and-
-Yes, yes, I know all about the propaganda, I’ve been at the meetings with the rest of the High Guard, and I’m sure they’re in control of some very useful power. No, what I’m worried about are the people, Queldan. I’ve seen eyes like theirs in my life. I’ve seen them in the last few orcs that we slaughtered when the Horde fell back from our lands. I’ve seen them countless times in trolls just before they were butchered. Those aren’t the eyes of victims trying to eke out a living – they’re the eyes of wounded pride, of people that feel they’re somehow better and deserve to crush the rest of the world. Have you seen how they treat us mere guards? They sneer at us, look down on us.” I had been mulling over a retort for a while before I could finally answer
“I don’t know, honestly. Do you think you can blame the order for its members? That I should back out of the Blood Knights?
- That’s for you to decide. I’m not telling you how to live your life – even me, the old grizzled survivor, won’t be here forever. What I mean is that you should be extra careful. You’ll be surrounded by monumental egos, and I know how easy it would be for the power to get to your head. Just… Remember me, boy. And remember why you chose that path.
-To protect my homeland, like my mother before me.” I replied, almost like a mantra. It’s something I had sworn when I had entered master Sundown’s class, as he was called at the time. “I’ll try my best, Private.”
The old soldier laughed the jab away and caught me by surprise in a bearhug. “Just be careful, boy. We all love you.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The ceremonies were long and elaborate, and even the Lady Liadrin took part in it, but finally, the initiates were handed a small flask and we moved to the chambers under Farstrider Square, were the secret ceremony of Blood Knight Induction took place. We moved in a single filed, robed in heavy crimson cloth embroiled with a black phoenix, a silent procession that stopped in front of the most unbelievable thing my eyes had ever seen.

In the middle of the room, some kind of… blue-purple crystal floated lazily in the air, maintained by beams shot by three magisters in a triangle on various dais. The crystal thing floated and rotated with some odd rhythm and seemed to constantly resonate a light humming, despite it not hitting anything but simple air. Liadrin’s smile was clear: she was very proud of awing her new recruits like that. Soon enough, her voice rang clear, drowning the humming of the thing:

“Initiates. I welcome you in our hearth of hearths, the very core of the Blood Knight’s power. What you are now witnessing is a gift from our Prince Kael’thas, from the Promised Land of Outland. It is an elemental force, not quite unlike those the magisters can summon. Except this specific being is not bound to our traditional elements.” She let the silence hang for dramatic effect. “It is an elemental of Light. A naaru, as they are called by the native races of Outland. This specific naaru commanded a vast army of locals and tried to oppose the Prince during his settling of Outland, and we were lucky enough that the Prince captured the elemental, and had it brought to us to help rebuild the city alongside Grand Magister Rommath.”

She lifted a flask like the ones the initiates were carrying. “This is one of our traditional mana containers. We’ve discovered that we can actually use them to siphon the Naaru and use its essence much like a mage would. This is the Blood Knight’s power: unlike traditional wielders of the Light, bending knee to belief systems for morsels of power, we are the masters of the power of the Light, putting us squarely above any other Light-user, from Paladins to priests, to lowly guards and peasants.”

“There are those who would say what we're doing is wrong, but much of what has befallen us is also wrong. Would they have us throw away such a gift? When I linked myself to the naaru, I was willing to die for Silvermoon, as did each and every one of my initiates. Once you leave this room, you shall be reborn in blood and steel – the newest of my Blood Knights, that bleed themselves out for the good of our wounded people. Now, you will all take the oath of the Blood Knight order, then move forward and link yourself to the naaru to become one of ours.”

We took our turns to speak the elven vow, a slight variation of the traditional vow every elf made when he entered adulthood, and soon enough it was my turn to face the immense being. No, really, it was easily ten times my own size, and the humming was touching… Almost… Hearthbreaking?

When I empowered the vessel, I started hearing it. A discordance in the humming. I felt the being’s pain and a burning pain in my chest. And I saw things. I saw myself tearing life off the person in front of me, and when I saw the eyes around myself, I realized what I had stepped into.

This was not a ritual to empower soldiers – it was cannibalism to feed starving predators. Private was right – it would take a sick person to devour the essence of a living being. And a voice resonated as I was about to break off in disgust.
Sick… Or desperate?
My eyes shot up at the naaru and I felt calm come back to me. The voice migled with mine as it went on.
Look at the mother lion saving her cubs. Not all predators are monsters.
That was my answer then. I could not apologize for what I was doing, but I could at least accept the remorse, and live a life of service and hope it would be enough to sleep at night. I lifter the vessel up, and my mouth formed a single word as I felt a warm wave of sunlight wash over me.
“Forgive me.”
When that day comes, seek all the light and wonder of this world, and fight.

Worldie wrote:I used to like it [mean] back on Sylvanas.

Queldan - EU Stormrage (H) - Good night, sweet prince.
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