1. #1
    Field Marshal Istella's Avatar
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    The Beginning of the End ((Closed RP/IC))

    Bree stumbled blindly through the thick undergrowth. What few stars managed to shine through the haze that had recently settled across the land could not penetrate the dying branches of the old forest. She did not dare use fire to light her way for fear it would attract her pursuers. She threw a wild look back over her shoulder, though she was afraid to see what lurked in the darkness. They aren’t your friends anymore, she told herself firmly as she blundered onward. Everything had changed so quickly.

    It was only two days ago that everything was perfectly normal, or at least as normal as it had been since the investigatory team had arrived in Lordaeron, following the rumors of the shadowy Cultists. They had made camp a few miles southwest of the still-smoldering ruins of Stratholme. Given their proximity to the damned city and the increased undead presence, it was no surprise that Archmage Colegi wanted one of the mages on duty with the guards at all times. And given that Bree was the junior mage in the party, it was also no surprise that she had been assigned the most unpleasant times to stand watch. That night she had been forced to miss supper, and was so tired afterwards she went straight to her tent.

    It had to be the food, she thought darkly, The next morning almost everyone was sick. The Archmage tried quarantining people to their tents, a lot of good that did. We were burning bodies by sunset, but by that night… there were too many. It spread so fast! It had to be poison! But who would do such a thing? her mind raced over these sinister thoughts but the only plausible conclusion she could come to was that it had been one of their own. The other Kirin Tor must be warned! But if it was someone on our mission, then who can I tell? Who else in the Violet Citadel is one of the Cult?

    Lost in thought, she couldn’t stop herself in time when the brush around her cleared suddenly and she tumbled over the edge of a small embankment. Biting back a curse, she started to push herself off the muddy ground when she heard a soft sound above her. The blood in her veins froze at the quiet shuffling footsteps moving steadily toward her. Disbelief, followed closely by mounting panic, swept over her. I’ve run all night! How are they still right behind me?!

    Trying to use the darkness to conceal herself, she desperately pressed closer to the ground, twigs and pine needles scratching her face. The steps grew louder and then paused right where she had fallen. She was sure they would hear the hammering of her heart against her ribs. Bree held her breath and the next moment they began to shuffle off along the rim of the bank. Her tense muscles had slackened for a fraction of a second when there was a loud crashing of branches just yards from her followed by a horrible, dull groan.

    Even as Bree sprang to her feet she was readying her spell. It was impossible to see anything in the blackness but she quickly drew energy from the Nether and gathered and shaped it into a mass of solid cold. She released the magic toward the sound as soon as she was able, barely giving it time to form properly. In the brief flash of pale blue light the spell gave off she could just make out the slumped form and torn purple and gold tabard it wore. Her spell struck home and the walking corpse gave an even louder groan. Despite her attack, it lurched toward her eagerly, struggling against the numbing cold as it began to spread over its body.

    Bree took more time on her second spell, letting the magic build in her outstretched hands. Once more, the spell threw eerie blue light across the shallow ravine, and as she let the energy grow so did the light. Soon, she could clearly make out the vacant eyes and slack face that was sickeningly familiar. Aiming for her former comrade’s legs, she fired again. The stronger spell did not just slow him, but froze his feet to the ground. With a wave of her hand, Bree willed the frost rooting him to spread over his entire body, encasing him in solid ice. She hesitated a moment before releasing her final spell, tears filling her eyes.

    “I- I’m sorry Andrew,” she choked out and fired a tiny spark of frozen energy from her fingertips. It lanced forward and struck the ice tomb, shattering it completely, along walking dead man who had once been her friend.

    Bree turned and ran.


    ((A description of the village where we start-Bree has yet to arrive but feel free to open here if you would like: ))

    The faintest traces of dawn are just beginning to touch the corners of the sky and yet Blackwood Village lies still. A thin grey mist lingers over the worn clay streets which are devoid of the normal early morning hustle and bustle. No shopkeepers hurry about opening their doors or setting out their wares, no farmers lead their livestock to market. Above the thatched roofs, even the chimneys are lifeless; not a single one emitting a telltale curl of smoke. Many of the doors to the homes and shops stand wide open. Anyone brave enough to venture inside would find only cold, vacant rooms. In some, they might find the tables set for dinner, the food prepared and yet undisturbed- even by pests. Silence dominates the entire town, not even a whisper of wind stirs though its empty lanes.
    Last edited by Istella; 2012-05-09 at 01:10 PM.
    The Light does not abandon its champions...

    ~My RP Characters~

  2. #2
    Role-player Nonfictionless's Avatar
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    The sun crept though the few splinters of the now boarded up windows within a small house that was serving as a make-shift first aid center. The local church in Corin's Crossing was already over filling. Aland these days was not already up but still. Sleep was hard to come by. 87 days....., he marked in his mind silently, since he buried two empty coffins. He wondered how many more he would have to endure. A man, a soon to be dead man, grunted beside Aland. The Light could only do so much to ease this man's pain. He was thought to be a looter. A few days ago he came crawling in carrying a few trinkets. Supposedly from Strathomle, his wounds had the stench of undeath in them. Aland was the only one to take pity on him. Stealing from the dead was frowned upon but the look in the dying man's eyes and the way he clung to the trinkets......they were of loved ones. These people in Corin's wouldn't understand.... Aland murmured a quite prayer as the Light worked through him and into the man. The man gave his only form of thanks, an audible sigh of relief. It would most likely be his last.

    Aland stood and walked out into the new day. His clothes stained in blood and other things needed to be changed. At the stables he took his room with his steed, the church did not need to shelter him too. Removing, washing, and finally dawning his armor he looked at himself in a small mirror. A few wounds already starting to form into scars but overall the only thing weathered about him was his mind. He trimmed and cleaned his beard and left his hair loose, it was already closing in on his shoulders. Belting on his sword, libram and shield he made for the church.

    "Ah Aland glad to see you are still here. How goes it in the other building?" Bishop Carther spoke with almost too much happiness in these dark times. An avid practitioner of the Light, but at the same time very much an active trader in these parts. And times in Corin's Crossing haven't been so active since the last war. Aland manged to hide his annoyance in his face but not so much in his voice, "Not well. The man you labeled a looter will die within the day. A few others have been afflicted by dark magic and the wounds will take much time. You should send for more aid from the Church." Carther glared for a moment, but returned to his usual demeanor. "I have sent a few riders but we haven't even heard from the magi inspecting the dark activities near Stratholme. It seems like all are being far more cautious in these times. I wouldn't even travel at night now." The Kirin Tor....afraid? Their magi weren't exactly his cup of tea, but they were far from fearful. "But we have received a few new requests just last night. I have sent a few priests to the closer ones but Blackwood," He grabbed a crumpled letter of a near by table, "It is rather close to Stratholme. I know the Knights have been disbanded Aland but I would hope you could still help the Church as more than a healer." The Bishop held the letter out to Aland. "No attacks but more that the locals are frightened of the cultists so near them. An emissary of the Church would be a powerful help to quell their fears."

    Aland began to reach for the letter and began to shake. Fear is such a hard thing to master. He had seen horrors, fought evil, seen follow paladin's die, and yet....his wife and daughter held such a hold that the city itself seemed like a nightmare to him. He pushed through it and took the letter. These cultists followed the demon that killed his family, they deserved death. Fury was the only thing truly keeping him alive at this point. "Consider it done. I shall be back in a few days." Aland turned quickly to leave. Silently hoping that cultists dared to cross his path. Everything still in his pack he mounted his horse and started the short trip to Blackwood Village.


    ((I assumed the Kirin Tor would be making reports to Dalaran and that they would pass anything really important like "the undead are coming" through the church at such a large town. I hope that is alright, if not I can adjust my post accordingly.))

  3. #3
    If anyone was left in the deserted town, they would have seen the slim figure of a man in a hooded brown cloak suddenly appear in the town square. The man looked around and walked with a quick eagerness towards one of the side streets, but stopped suddenly, doing a double take, looking around once again. Pausing for a moment, he quickly broke out in a frantic sprint down the street. He ran to a house almost indisginguishable from its neighbors and jumped up the steps and rushed inside.

    Daniel looked everywhere in the house for his parents; the bedroom, the kitchen, the basement, the sitting room. He couldn't find them anywhere. He tried the blacksmith's, the town hall, the neighbor's... His parents were nowhere to be found. Nobody was in the town. He was all alone. He walked back to the center of town and sat down, hands in his face, in shock. He was used to being alone, but his family... they were the only ones who cared for him. The teachers in Dalaran were understanding and caring of course, and they helped him become the mage he was today, and he was grateful, but that was their job. His parents loved him unconditionally, and they were the only ones who did so. He never had any friends. They were all he had. And they were gone.

  4. #4
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    The crisp morning silence was jarringly split by the metallic clop clop of horseshoes against cobblestone and the gentle creaking and rolling of a small wagon along with it. The road to Blackwood Village was ominously empty but young Nairella Carthage paid no heed to the absence of early-morning travelers. She had traveled through the night from the hovel her family called home and was bringing with her a load of fresh crops and meat from the farm. The young woman was tired - it was not unusual that she was sent to vendor the goods her parents' farm produced, but she was usually given notice in advance when she was expected to do so. The previous evening, however, her parents had suddenly decided to send her on this trip with no warning at all. That was quite strange, especially as they seemed to be under a lot of stress when they shooed her out of the house in a great hurry.

    She knew nothing of the undead threat; her parents had been diligent in keeping her uninformed, in hopes that she would not panic.. That Stratholme had been nearly leveled and its inhabitants changed from normal humans to violent, flesh-eating zombies was a fact unknown to her. So naturally, when she drove to Blackwood Village in the early morn, that it was seemingly lifeless did not immediately cause a flush of panic as it should have had she been made aware of the current events. Figuring it was earlier than it actually was, or that the residents of the town were having a very sleepy start to the day, she continued onward toward the village.

    About a half mile from the main entrance to Blackwood, the horse at the front of the wagon suddenly stopped dead.

    "What is it, Vic?" the girl asked, quickly scouting the immediate surroundings for signs of danger. Vic - or Victory, as she was properly called - had always been a very sensible mare and it was not like her to suddenly stop in travels without a good reason. The bay mare stood as still as a statue save for tiny, incremental movements of her head and ears. Her head was almost straight up on her shoulders and her nostrils were wide and flaring. She was clearly on edge. "What do you see?" pressed Nairella, hesitantly stepping off the carriage and approaching the mare, reins tight in her hands.

    The horse did not move until the young woman twisted her to the side, effectively 'unlocking' her from place. Vic moved forward hesitantly at a tip-toeing walk, still peering around for the seemingly invisible threat. Only slightly disturbed by this behavior, Nairella returned to the wagon and sat back up in it with a slightly shorter rein, just in case.. She didn't want to wind up with an out of control carriage if Vic spooked for real. With a couple reassuring words and a soft click of the tongue, Nairella urged Vic into a trot and the metallic clopping continued, but the mare remained tense approaching the village.

    Nairella didn't realize something was amiss until her mare stopped again, this time directly at the entrance to town. Vic refused outright to go any further, despite her driver's best effort to convince her - or force her - to do so, so Nairella was left to survey Blackwood Village with an expression of tired exhasperation on her face. It didn't take a long look for her to notice the lack of life. The sun was starting to come up properly but even through the mist, she could see there was.. nobody out. Nobody in the streets. There were no lights lit in any windows, nor were any chimneys leaking smoke that would suggest a warm fire burning inside.

    The girl hesitated. That was ominous. Something was definitely amiss. Vic's apprehension suddenly made sense.

    "Vic," Nairella said quietly, a quiet note of panic in her voice. "Come on. Come on!" But no amount of pulling on the bridle would get the bay mare to move. Unwilling to further investigate the town alone, Nairella quickly unhitched the horse, removed the harness, and swapped the long driving reins for a regular-length set of riding reins. Having done this countless times before, it took her only a minute or two and then the fearful horse was wearing only the open bridle that doubled both as a riding and driving bridle. The girl heaved herself onto the horse's back and with a careful application of leg cues and rein cues, she managed to 'unstick' the horse again and got the mare tiptoeing into town.

    In almost no time at all they reached the center of town and the mare stopped again, but this time, Nairella could see why: there was a man here. Only one. Other than him and herself, the entire town seemed.. deserted. Her heart quickened a touch and she found herself in a quandry.. Should she approach the man, or should she turn and ride away?

    The one thing she did know was that nothing about this situation was natural.

  5. #5
    Field Marshal Istella's Avatar
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    ((Just waiting on sáfarie to post before I move us along. Feel free to arrive at the town or interact with each other in the mean time. If she doesn't show by this weekend I'll move the plot forward anyway.))
    The Light does not abandon its champions...

    ~My RP Characters~

  6. #6
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    A rider approached the entrance of Blackwood Village, It was Mike helson a former paladin of the silverhand. Even the group was disbanded by Arthas himself at the culling of Stratholme, Mike was still loyal to uther and still wearing his Silver Hand armor. "So here we are Blackwood" Getting futher into the area he looks around him, The town was empty and only the wind can be heard through the streets of Blackwood.

    "Where is every one?" Getting of his horse and grabbing his sword he started to walk further into the town with his horse. There was something strange going on here in this place. Arriving at the center of the town he spotted a Female human with a horse and a wagon.

    Without thinking he started to yell at the female human. " Hello there! u are the only one in this empty town?

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