1. #1
    Warchief
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    [Story] Things and Stuff

    I don't know what else to call it. So Things and Stuff it is. Possible partial history of Noxvari Shadowstalker.

    prologue
    ---------------

    The first realization she came to upon opening her eyes was that she was powerful. More powerful than she'd ever been before.

    It was hard to say where exactly her newfound strength came from; all Lisele knew was that physically, mentally, and even
    magically, she felt like a living wrecking ball. Something about her surroundings empowered her, though for all she could tell, she was stuck in a dimly-lit room with only a half dozen torches lit with blue flame to offer any sort of light. The entire room seemed to be crafted of some dense, blue-black metal she'd never seen before. It took a moment for her to realize that she was actually sitting on what looked and felt like a throne crafted of the same off-black metal, but intricately carved with runes she could not even begin to decipher. In front of her was a heavy door..

    It swung open and through it floated what looked like a ghost of sorts, but it seemed halfway material. Beyond being a spectral, ghost-like creature, it lacked any sort of qualities that would help Lisele identify its gender or previous specie, if it was, in fact, some manner of ghost. She could barely make out a pair of glowing eyes and an opening that she assumed to be a mouth. Upon seeing her, the creature's mouth twisted into what was unmistakably a triumphant grin.

    "So glad.. you could join us," it rasped, and for a moment Lisele felt a foreign, baseless pit of seething rage spark into life - and in that exact moment, her surroundings exploded into a hellish inferno and the raw power she had felt within her was sapped away to be replaced with a feeling of weakness again unlike anything she'd felt before. Through the flames around her, she could barely make out the moving shapes of figures - others, people - running through the flames to find a way out. She did not know what was going on, but she knew she could not stay in this ring of fire.. But she was surrounded. There was no other option: she'd have to go through the flames.

    The superheated air scorched her lungs with the deep breath she took to steel herself. There was no other option. Denying herself the chance to think about it, Lisele charged at the ring of fire around her, hoping she could leap through and roll out on the other side to safety, maybe, just maybe..

    She threw herself through the flames and landed with a definite SPLASH on the other side, in nearly freezing water. She surfaced immediately and opened her eyes to find herself somewhere vaguely familiar.. Lordaeron.. the bank of Lordamere Lake. In the far distance, to the north, she could barely make out the shape of the capital city. To her south were the spires of Dalaran. To her east was the forest and the road leading south from the city.

    All of it was on fire.

    Apprehensively, Lisele stood in the knee-deep water and instinctively ducked and reached for her bow at a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye. That she suddenly had her bow surprised her, but it was not needed: the movement was only a squirrel seeking shelter from the blaze. Though the fire was alarming, she found that the second movement - the sudden appearance of a cloaked man at the bank of the lake - did not shock her. The man gestured to her, once, twice, three times, and at the third beckoning she approached him apprehensively..

    "Home," was the only word he said, and then he pointed at her.

    Everything disappeared.. Lisele was transported via magical means and when her journey was done, she was in an incredibly tranquil glade, surrounded by the white-bark trees commonly found in Quel'thalas. A stretch of shoreline to her west was very familiar to her - the distance and position of it, if it was the shore she recognized, would put her.. somewhere in Silvermoon City. But she was not in Silvermoon City.

    Silvermoon City wasn't there.

    It was like Quel'thalas had never been touched, like the elves had never settled there. The air was thick with magic and the climate was perfect with the forest stuck in an endless springtime, as Lisele knew it to be, but everything else.. gone.

    It was peaceful there, alone in the forest in what - judging by the moon's position and the faint lightening on the Eastern horizon - were the early pre-dawn hours. The troubling events of the just-happened past fled her mind in mere moments as she took in her surroundings. There was a small path between the trees, heading north. On a whim, she followed it and found it surprisingly well-tended despite there not seeming to be anyone else around..

    The path wound and twisted through the trees until it eventually led to the northernmost coast of the mainland. In the distance, Lisele could see Quel'danas, just far enough away to be a hazard to swim to, but close enough that if there were a bridge..

    And there was. A path of smooth stones led across the channel, and as far as Lisele could see, they floated: she knew the channel to be deep, and there was no way stones like these would reach to the bottom of the water. Even so, she did not question their presence and instead walked across them all the way across to the island. The path she had been following reconvened there and she followed it further north still.

    The Sunwell was conspicuously absent from the spot where it ordinarily sat. In its place was a simple pond, in the middle of which was a tiny island. On this island was a smooth stone with something carved into its southern face. Lisele's curiosity got the best of her and without thinking, she waded into the pond and toward the small island. Once there, she knelt in front of the smooth stone to get a better look at the carving on it, and by the faint light of the approaching dawn, she was able to read it.

    In Thalassian were the words, "The rising sun brings with it a forever changed world."

    CRACK.

  2. #2
    Scarab Lord Chonar's Avatar
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    Interesting! Almost sounds like someone's having a bad trip.

    "Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my comrade." - Albert Camus

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