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  1. #81
    Mechagnome Darced's Avatar
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    Caroline was more than well aware of the properties of the plague. 30 meter spread per every second of Lordaeron standard time. We have seconds, we won't make it after the plague has built up enough momentum. She looked around and found her and Aldean's line had broken to a greater extent. We need fire. "Forsaken, make a pyre, quick!" The retreating Forsaken heard their mistresse's plea and began to run back towards the broken line. Burning house and Scourge were everywhere and there was only one reason Caroline would want to utilize that resource. "Aldean! You and the other living stay back! We can contain the plague long enough for you to escape!" Death knights understood the call and some jump in to protect the Forsaken fire builders. They took whatever burning wood they could find and created a row in the way of the oncming onslaught of plague cloud.

    Aldean took notice and had a realization, They're sacrificing themselves?? "Wait, stop!" Caroline darted a look back, "Go! You Light happy curs!" The Forsaken continued their building. Aldean soldiers had stopped with him, "Sir, we'd die too quickly in that. It seems the Forsaken have the right idea. Let's break from the epicenter." Aldean sighs, "Alright, let's get to cover." Saved by the Forsaken again. My father's cronies are starting to piss me off!

    The Fires began to burn brightly, even through the green mist that began to engulf the area. "Lady Caroline the cloud is moving in fast, we'll never make it!" The cloud clashes with the fire and rises up. A small series of explosions rocks the line and prevents any Scourge from climbing over top of the small barricade. "Fire can burn out most flames, even that of the Scourge's beloved disease. We have moments, retreat!"

    The Forsaken pull back, all on foot, since losing their steeds. "Fall back! Fall--!" Just then, the sound of a sudden exhalation leaves her. A blade pierces her chest and quickly recedes. Lady Caroline falls as Scourge begin to rip her apart. "My lady!" screams some of the Forsaken. They charge the assailant but are cut down one by one. The rest stay back and Aldean watches. "Quite a shame. You Forsalen, after all this time, now decide to be pious, moral?" A blast of frost magic quenches the fires and the plague runs through swiftly. The Firsaken are caught in the cloud and fall to the ground as if they were ablaze.

    Darion watches as his death knights return to him and Sylvanas. "I know you! Show yourself!" screams Darion Mograine. The figure appears from the plague cloud, a night elf, blue eyes. Armor of the late Scourgleord and a sword that stands as a dark needle. "Sevenvoids?!" The night elf smiles as more Scourge pour from the mists. "A pleasure to see you again Darion Mograine! I've missed our competition." He pauses, "He who can lead forces with more proficiency." Darion smirks from under his helmet, "As I recall, I bested your numbers my fair share." Sevenvoids chuckles, "Yes, but I have a far larger force now. Unlike Northrend; ironic, wasn't it?" He turns toward his Scourge army and nods. They slink back into the mists, "I suggest you all regroup. After all, our quarrel is not with you this day." They vanish into the plague clouds.

    Darion grunts along with his knights. "He's showing mercy Sylvanas. Neither of us have the forces to spare, we need to make a head count." Sylvanas nods, "Let's gather the heroes and regroup at the farms to the north, this battle is over." She pauses, "Forsaken, find the mercenaries. I care not if their Alliance or Horde, just bring them north."

    Aldean gazes past into the mist. Sevenvoids? So, he's their commander in the field. This is a hopless fight, where's the Light damn Alliance?!

    ((Sevenvoids was a Scourgelord in War of the Greys: Forge of Souls. You can take him as he is or you can read up on him. Just a Scourgelord, nothing too special, yet. Also, let's regroup and I'll give out some story elements. :P))

  2. #82
    Mechagnome Mengucekli's Avatar
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    (( I would love to meet up but i am hell bent to save this one soldier ))

    Grimgor lit his torch. Yellow flames radiated, enlightening the dark basement. Grimgor suddenly realised they were not alone in there: 3 skeletons were standing idle, untill they saw the light. They growled, and Grimgor drawed his Jambiya. "So be it." he mumbled, chanting power word and shielding himself. Skeletons started rushing at him. He raised his arms, and shouting holy words, he started smiting the first one with holy energy bursts. Soon its bones scattered around, leaving two others still charging the priest. He concentrated, channeling his power to cover himself in pain suppression, leaving their clawings dull. He stabbed another skeleton in the eye with his Jambiya, severing the skull from the magically animated spine. He felt the other skeleton's presence at his behind, but before he could turn around, he heard the cracks of it and its bones fell to his feet.. Turning around, he saw the wounded soldier, lynig on the stairs, and he seemed to throw his sword to the last skeleton. "Gotcha!" said Michaels, before groaning in pain. "Thanks friend." said Grimgor, happy to see his companion still alive.

    Grimgor rushed to the cellar doors, looked out and see some gushing winds keeping the deadly clouds away from the entrance, then he closed the doors. "Should hold a while. Safe. Need to find exit. Another." he said to himself, then moved back in the cellar. Michaels was back to conciousness, but was struggling in pain. Holding the torch closer to him, he looked at the unfortunate man, and realised that he was having a fever. "Bad bandages, still dirt inside. Killing him." he mumbled, then he said "Need to heal.". But it was harder than saying it, as he nearly spent most of the holy powers he gained from holy water to the fighting he made. He was still out of power, and he needed to drink something. Desperately looking around, he saw some shades on the walls behind him, so he got up and moved to them holding the torch, trying to better see them. Those were shelves, full of.. Wine. He was in a wine cellar.

    Removing an old bottle covered with dust, he opened the cork, and drank a quarter of the bottle. A warmth covered his insides. Turning back at the Michaels, he started chanting holy words, pleading the Holy light to grant him healing, he started channeling holy light into his body. The man slowly started glowing, and his wounds closed up, leaving minor marks behind, and his breathing became steady, his body returning to normal heat. Grimgor used almost all of his power to fully revive the wounded body, and he managed to success on a large margin.

    Exhausted, he fell to his knees, and he took another sip from the bottle. His sight was becoming even more blurry, and he was having a bad time concentrating. Michaels soon got up to a sitting position, and looked around curiously. "Who are ya?" he asked, and Grimgor responded "Brother Grimgor, of the.." he stopped, and a hiccup came, then he continued "..of the Shtormwinphhh..". Young man giggled, and got up to his feet, and helped Grimgor to do so. "I am Michaels, of the Greys. Where is Aldean, where is everyone? What happened? Where the hell are we?" he asked, barely remembering anything. "Well.." Grimgor mumbled, but he could not finish his sentence, because he was not able to think straight. Michaels took the sword from the ground and grabbed the unlit torch from the wall, lighting it from Grimgor's. Grimgor said "We need. Exit. Out scourge. Bad!", and while Michaels could not understand what he said, he could understand that they needed another exit from the damp dark place.

    Realising there was another door at the other side of the cellar, he moved, and Grimgor followed.

  3. #83
    Mechagnome Darced's Avatar
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    ((Uh oh, where did everyone go? Did I do something wrong?))

  4. #84
    High Overlord Knephertiti's Avatar
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    ((I think it's more likely that labor day/long weekend activities are taking people away from their computers, at least those in the states. Give them a day or two, and my guess is we will see them back.))
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  5. #85
    Mechagnome Mengucekli's Avatar
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    ((Nothing wrong on my part, and i am wondering the same thing as well.))

  6. #86
    Scarab Lord Chonar's Avatar
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    ( My internet was out for the better part of last sunday, when I wanted to write. But I'm back. Gonna keep it short for now, though.)


    Chonar's face hardened when he heard Tiny's announcement. Turning, he watched the massive, battered abomination bloat... and finally rupture, releasing the cloud of Plague every which way. Seeing the host retreat on feet quicker than his own, he looked around... and in the distance, saw his gryphon, Snowbeak, far above- yet behind- the plague cloud. His riflemen had managed to secure their gryphons before he could, their expressions horrified as they realized their Thane wouldn't be able to escape the cloud.

    "Well. Bloody 'ell."

    He crossed both arms infront of his face, digging his foot in against the ground, and braced himself. The explosion of Plague washed over the Mountainking, blanketing his short stature in a mist of corrupting green.

    Silence fell.
    Last edited by Chonar; 2012-09-03 at 11:02 AM.

    "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

  7. #87
    Mechagnome Darced's Avatar
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    The wind howls and snow glsitens in the morning light. A bright blue with a pink underbelly oversees the mountains around Strahnbrad. There a figure stands in the Grey Hall, a temple his followers are well accustomed to. His hands surround an orb on a pedestal, wicked and black, twisted by his own very foul nature. The fires of the hall deepen into a dark amber orange that slowly reveals red eyes throughout the old hall. Tapestries are tattered and paintings destroyed. The building lacks any of it's former
    beauty.

    "The world is changing. Who now has the strength to stand against the armies of Northrend? And Alterac? Together, my little friend Darced, we will destroy this Azeroth." The orb revolves from a black to a collection of colors, as a cluster of worlds, in space. A split of black, much like an eye forms in the colors, and Sargeras watches the future of the world he stands on. "It shall break, with this guise I will be unstoppable on this world. Free from any of the Light's barriers." He turns behind him as some of his terrorguards enter the hall.

    "My lord, we've found a survivor." The thrust a hulking mass onto the floor. Sargeras raises an arm and dismisses the demons. "So, you were able to single-handedly hold off my new army. How depressing." He pauses as he eyes the undead. "Clearly you maintain some of my will." Aldoss spits and looks up to Causis' body in rage. "I am not of you monster! I will redeem my family of your shit blood!" Sargeras' eyes glint as he smirks, revealing some newly formed sharp teeth. "All the undead are fused of my blood. Archimonde thought it fitting to create an undead army. I loaned him my power to do so. You are here, because my power flows through your veins." He leans in close to Aldoss. "The Scourge may be able to resist my will, but not for long. Not with you that is."

    Aldoss' eyes widen, "I-won't serve!" Sargeras laughs, and the deep tone echoes throught the room. "We shall see. I have a slight problem in the valley below." He holds a glowing red fist in front of Aldoss. "You will take care of them." Cheveyos!

    Cheveyos and her newly formed force awaits the possessed Greys down the road from Strahnbrad. "Yes ma'm, we'll take care of them." Cheveyos nods at the soldier. She was an officer at the gates of Hillsbrad for a couple of years, directing adventurers throught the area. Now, he implements her talent to Cheveyos' army. A collection of frontiersmen, Gilnean guard, Worgen hunters and Vanguard from Lordaeron. "The main force will be scattered along the ridge. He will fall back into intersecting lines of fire. Giving them a gauntlet they have to pass. This way we will maintain minimal casualties, regroup with Lady Sylvanas and contnue the war while Sargeras prepares while hindered. Everyone understood?" The Forsaken nod throughout the mist.

    A noise is heard and Cheveyos turns toweard the pass leading from Strahnbrad. A lone figure approaches in a grey robe. "Hold!" One of the Forsaken marksmen scream. From atop a small rock on the mountain the marksmen could readily see this is no ordinary person. The figure removes a large scythe from his back, made of black, twisted metal and glows with a fel green. Cheveyos approaches, "Who are you? Show yourself!" The figure removes his hood, "I am Aldoss of the Grey and you block our way."

    ((This is elsewhere, in Alterac. It's referencing the last RP, but it's purpose is to show that evil is on the horizon, greater than even I.))
    Last edited by Darced; 2012-09-03 at 01:22 PM.

  8. #88
    High Overlord Knephertiti's Avatar
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    From their location high above the plague cloud, the druids watched in dismay as the forces fighting back the Scourge were forced to turn and flee. They were forced to watch as several forsaken troops attempted to destroy the plague, before being cut down by a Scourgelord. They also noticed a snow white gryphon flying circles above the deadly green mist. Jorn recognized it as the Mountian King's own gryphon, and also that the mount was without it's rider.
    May the Earth Mother watch over him. He is a wise and hardy dwarf, I pray he found a way to survive. Flying over to the gryphon, Jorn opened his mind to the natural world, and used his connection to soothe the frenzied beast. It is all I can do, without some rest. Chris called over to his friend, having noticed Darion's and Sylvanas' forced moving north, away from the plague to a nearby farm. Jorn followed the forces by air, eager to regain some of the massive amounts of energy he spent, while Chris stayed in the skies, looking for any survivors to tell them of the regrouping.
    Last edited by Knephertiti; 2012-09-04 at 03:55 PM.
    My RP Characters:
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  9. #89
    Mechagnome xMexyragosX's Avatar
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    ((Was so busy with work, and my computer broke, and I'm not getting my new one until the 6th, so I have to occasionally jump on my parents' to write. As soon as I get my laptop I'll be up and running again, lol. So . . . Where exactly would I be right about now? I lost track of this one over the past few days, lol.))

  10. #90
    Mechagnome Darced's Avatar
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    ((Well, Mexy you'd be in the line of retreating soldiers heading towards the farms to the north. You're attempting to outrun a plague cloud. Also, don't worry about the absence you have a special place in these RPs.))

  11. #91
    Scarab Lord Chonar's Avatar
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    (( Right now:

    Good guys:
    Aldean: Andorhal, retreating
    Caroline: Andorhal, deceased
    Chonar: Andorhal, presumed deceased
    Chris: Andorhal, sky
    Darren: Blinked / Teleported to avoid Plague explosion, unknown
    Grimgor: Andorhal Wine Cellars
    Jorn: Andorhal, sky (retreating)
    Velexis: Andorhal, unknown


    Bad guys:
    Darced: Unknown
    SevenVoids: Andorhal, withdrawn
    Sargeras: Alterac ))

    "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

  12. #92
    nice story guys, keep it up <3

  13. #93
    Mechagnome Mengucekli's Avatar
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    "Damp dark place, this is." Grimgor murmured, walking after the Michaels who lit another torch while moving forward inside the tight passage. Grimgor was following him, barely walking straight, holding his torch at his left hand and holding the cold, moist wall on his right to keep his balance. Hiccups occationally took over him, because he drank too much alcohol in a very short time. Another bashing sound came, and he raised his head, and saw Michaels taking out another skeleton with his sword. "We must hurry Brother, that hatch won't stop plague clouds for long. If it catches up to us, 'ere done for." he said, while continuing to walk cautiously towards the darkness.

    After a while, they reached at an opening, and Michaels yelled excitedly "I think we found an exit". There was no light, but there was a woodden ladder going up, and a metallic hatch at the top. "I think we may be able to get out here." he said, sheating his sword to his belt, then he started climbing up. Grimgor just sat down where he was, and watched the human warrior to struggle as he tried to open the hatch. After a short moment, he realised the hatch was a no-go. "Must be earth. And plants. Maybe trees." he mumbled. Michaels turned back and looked down at the dwarf priest, trying to understand what he was telling. "What are ya talking 'bout?" he said, getting nervous. "Trapped. We are. Like rats." Grimgor said, without even raising his head up. Another hiccup took him over, and that made Michaels even more angry. "Stop talking gibberish and do somethin'!" he shouted, his eyes moving towards the barely luminated corridor, seeking traces of plague cloud that may be approaching.

    Grimgor, suddenly coming up with an idea, stood up and said "Stand aside.". Michaels looked at him, confused, but he started climbing down the ladder after the priest repeated himself. He slowly climbed up, and even broke one of the decayed woodden steps as he climbed, barely managing to hold on to the upper parts, thus evading a fall. "Careful!" Michaels yelled, as he was concerned. Grimgor growled as he pulled himself up, swearing as he climbed, reached at the hatch. Carefully looking around it, he realised that there were dust and soil coming through its edges. "Like i thought." he said. It was impossible to open that hatch as it was supposed to be, because it was rotating upwards but as it seems this secret tunnel out of Andorhal was not being used ever since the Third War. Judging by the look and smell of the soil, he realised that it was forest soil, so they must have been under the outskirts of the northern Andorhal, where town met the woods. But as the entrance was not used over the years, soil covered its entrance at the top, and maybe even plantation and wildlife took over. Forcing it towards the sky was almost impossible for the duo. And time was running out, because cloud could have catch up with them any moment.

    So he decided to gamble his life once more. He drawed his Jambiya and plugged its tip at one of hinges of the hatch. Forcing it down with both hands, he managed to bent over the rusted metals, then totally shatter it. Hatch shook, letting some more dust and soil through it on top of Grimgor's head, and partially bended down. Grimgor turned his face to the curious human, and said "Cover by the wall.". The man realised what was going to happen, and in hesitation, he stepped back towards the wall. Grimgor's next move would either bury them alive in that room with soil, or set them free.

    Grimgor turned his face once again to the hatch, and placed his dagger to the remaining hinge. He pulled down again with both hands, but it was resisting his muscular force. Weigth of the soil on hatch was keeping hinge stuck. Grimgor realised his mediocre muscle force would not be able to tear it, not at least in time, so he released his feet, effectively hanging his entire body on that dagger, forcing that hinge even more. It bended and a metallic crack sound was heard, but it still resisted the raw force Grimgor was setting on itself. Desperately, Grimgor closed his eyes and channeled his holy forces towards the enchanted dagger, simply using it as a focusing agent for the holy power. Hinge bursted away from its locale, and the hatch crumbled inside, revealing a hole that was pouring huge amounts of soil on the now falling Grimgor.

    Michaels gasped as he saw the young dwarf smashed to the ground, and a large amount of soil covered atop him and half of the room aswell. Dust covered the room, but also fresh air filled in, blowing the dust further towards the gloomy corridor. Michaels covered his face with his right arm, trying to block out dust from his nose and mouth. Caughing a bit, he opened his eyes and realised the dust was settling down. He removed his feet which were covered in soil up to his knees, and walked up to the mound. "There is no way he could have survived that subsidence." he thought, feeling bad about his saviour. Then, all of a sudden, a small dome of holy light appeared before his feet, and arms trying to make way out of soil. Giggling, he hastily knelt down and started shoving soil around, digging and trying to help the trapped dwarf out. Soon Grimgor emerged from the earth, while his robes were full of dust, his last second aegis shield simply protected him from inevitable crash and burial. He gasped for air, holding his knees, then raised his head and said "Thanks.". Michaels giggled, saying "You are one tough son of a bitch!", and right after realising he was talking to a Brother of the Light, correcting his statement in shame "Oh! I meant.. Well, good to see you made it Brother.". Grimgor laughed at his face going red, "Lets get out." he answered. "But how? Damned ladder completely crashed down with soil." said Michaels, looking upwards toward the opening, but Grimgor grinned and said "Need a ladder? Why?" while chanting, casting his holy light at the feet of the human warrior to create a cloud and raise him to the opening.

    ((Sorry for the minor side-tracking and self exploring, but it did not hurt the overall experience now did it? ))

  14. #94
    Mechagnome Darced's Avatar
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    Sylvanas and some of the surviving Forsaken arrived at one of the northern farms. It was empty, the inhabitants long since fled, most likely into the Scourge ranks. Darion and his remaining death knights came as well, eager for reprieve from their slaughtering. Aldean and his Greys were also present, but made sure they were distanced from Sylvanas, Can't trust that bitch as far as we can throw her.

    "The mercenaries should be arriving shortly." Darion points through the amber lights to a map on their newly confiscated table. Sylvanas and Mograine were in a farm house planning their next move. The map was of Lordaeron as a whole and marked with red and black Xs. Red meant for allies, black for Scourge. There was also a circle with horns down south. "Despite them, we need the Horde. Where the hell is Garrosh?" Darion shook his head, "The Alliance and the Horde won't make it in time. They take long to prepare but once they're ready, they're unstoppable." Sylvanas peers from her map, "Perhaps we were too quick to engage. I should have waited for Cheveyos to arrive."

    Aldean steps into the room, "So long as we're alone, we need to regroup with any allies out here. Where is the Argent Crusade?" Darion faces Aldean while Sylvanas ignores him and instead watches the map as if it were moving. "When Heartglen was attacked earlier this week, Darced managed to take Tirion Fordring prisoner." Aldean eyes widen at the idea. "After that, the Argents attempted to regroup in Andorhal, but they met with stiff resistance. Any survivors would have made their way to Light's Hope." Aldean pauses, "So, we have to move east." Darion nods.

    "The Scourge came with five necropoli. Each of those would be put down in strategic locations. We have to destroy those before we could move on." Sylvanas looks up from the map and continues. "My guess is that Darced placed at least one in the Western Plaguelands to keep us busy." Darion groans, "We can't move on with that necropolis there and we can't fight it with the numbers we have. We've lost too many."

    Aldean nods, "We don't have the numbers, but we do have the elite." Sylvanas and Darion gaze at Aldean, "Who?" Aldean smirks, "Let's just wait for the rest of the crew to get together, I have a plan."

  15. #95
    High Overlord Knephertiti's Avatar
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    As the last of the soldiers were making their way north, those humans, forsaken, dwarfs, and death knights left, Chris took one last look over the battlefield. Now covered in plague mist, the town of Andorhal was destroyed and desolate, a testament to the Scourge and their commanders. Well, nothing left here. It's time to regroup. I hope everyone made it back. Turning north, Chris began to flap his wings, eager to make it to the remaining forces. As he passed over the northern edge of town, sudden movement caught his sharp hawk eyes. Diving down without hesitation, Chris saw two figures, illuminated in light, come out of a hole in the ground. Recognizing the dwarf priest and one of the human soldiers, Chris landed next to where the two were floating out before shifting back to his human form.
    "I have no idea how you two made it out from under there, but well done! The rest of our forces are regrouping at a farm to the north. Come, follow me, I was just flying up there myself."

    Jorn managed to make it to the farm, flying above the remaining soldiers, riflemen, death knights, and mercenaries. Some were entering the old farm house, while most were gathering outside. Rather than deal with moving through the people, Jorn flew through an upstairs window of the farmhouse, changing forms back to his original Tauren body once inside. Making his way through the house, Jorn made his way downstairs and passed the table where Sylvanas, Mograine, and the human commander were in discussion. As he entered the next room, he found what he was looking for. A kitchen, containing a large fireplace with a handing cauldron, as well as a large barrel about half full with water. Luckily the previous residents hadn't taken this precious water with them, there is not much left in the area uncorrupted by the Scourge. After filling the fireplace with the wood stacked nearby, lighting it, and pouring the remains of the water into the cauldron, Jorn added several handfuls of various herbs from his satchel. Leaving the contents to boil, the druid turned and re-entered the room with the various leaders, grabbed a chair, and sat along the wall. He then leaned back and closed his weary eyes, waiting as the herbal broth began to heat up and send a light natural scent to fill the house.
    My RP Characters:
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  16. #96
    Mechagnome xMexyragosX's Avatar
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    Darren found himself running - and occasionally teleporting himself - away from the plague cloud caused by Tiny's detonation. The young wizard was out of breath, exhausted, his energy drained and his resources spent. He realized they were heading towards an old farmhouse, and paused, kneeling and attempting to catch his breath.
    Where the hell we're at, I have no clue, he thought to himself, his vision blurry from exhaustion. What I do know is that that plague cloud is going to kill us if it catches up to us. I'm not going to be one of its first casualties.
    He pulled out his last Mana Gem, gazing into its hazy, swirling contents. He found himself looking into his reflection, and noticed the right side of his face was covered in blood, his curly brown hair matted to his face. The face that stared back at him managed to surprise Darren enough that he almost dropped the gem in shock.
    To hell and back, he thought, forcing a half-grin at the phrase. He'd recalled it from a book his cousin used to read to him some nights, back when they still had much to look forward to.
    Before he was mercilessly slaughtered. As it'd done before, Darren felt his anger flare. Ah, the irony, he thought, gritting his teeth, that I'm fighting with the very monsters I seek revenge upon.
    He clenched his hand around the Mana Gem as he'd done previously, absorbing its essence. Within moments, he felt his energy return and his depleted strength flow through his body once again. Sighing, he forced himself to his feet, and murmured a few words, casting a teleportation spell. Closing his eyes, he felt the magic pull at him, seperating his consciousness from his physical form. It was as if his soul were pulled from his body and his corporeal form being magically transferred to another location: Which, in reality, it was. In seconds, he felt himself settle, and opened his eyes. He was crouching in what appeared to be a bedroom, decored with a cot, occupied bookshelf and a cold, dead fireplace. The door to his left was shut and - by the looks of it, anyway - locked.
    "Hmmph." Darren stood, facing the door that seperated him from the rest of the farmhouse. There was a window behind him, but he knew he was at least two stories up, and he had no reagents to allow him to cast a spell that would enable him to float safely to the ground. He lifted his right hand, summoning the frost magic he'd been known to use so effectively, and fired a frostbolt at the door, freezing it. He reached for the sword strapped to his hip, and pulled it out, gripping the hilt tightly. The notched and worn blade, while uneffective in combat, was still a useful tool if one used their imagination. He held it with both hands, and plunged it into the block of ice that was the bedroom door, shoving the blade into the ice. Spiderwebs of cracks appeared and shot up and down the door, the resulting crackling noise giving Darren some small satisfaction. He twisted the sword up, down, left then right, widening the cracks until the door exploded in shards of ice. Darren's wards and armour spell allowed the shards to shoot past the young mage harmlessly. He sheathed his sword and exited the room, seeing a staircaise directly in front of him. Immediately he could smell what seemed like herbs. He remembered when he'd seen the two druids fighting before, and found an explanation that made him content. He walked down the stairs carefully, hoping that they wouldn't snap under his weight. They creaked, but held. As he reached the bottom floor, he noticed a few things at once.
    One; the fireplace was lit. Two; Highlord Morgraine and Lady Windrunner were both standing at a table, a long with a few Greys, studying a map. Three; a tauren was seated in the kitchen, drinking . . . tea?
    He grunted to himself, walking unnoticed past the three at the table, and entered the kitchen. He rooted around the cupboards, ignoring the tauren, and found another mug. He poured some of the druid's boiled water in to it, and placed it at the table. He reached in to his belt and withdrew two small leaves and a handful of grass, tied together by a piece of string. He put both in the mug and let it sit for a moment before taking a sip of the drink. The resulting scent that wafted up fro mthe mug reminded him of rotting fruit, but the drink itself tasted of an alchoholic drink he'd tasted one time at Dalaran. He'd never actually created it, but he'd had it before, and knew its properties. He looked up at the druid and gave the tauren a smirk. "Alchemy isn't a big standing point for me, but I've got some skill with it."

  17. #97
    Mechagnome Mengucekli's Avatar
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    Grimgor gasped for fresh air. They were finally free from that death trap they called a town, and he was happy about it. Suddenly the worgen druid landed before them, and turned to his human form. Grimgor saluted him with respect, both thankfull for the pushing winds that saved them at the cellar, and for his guidance towards the regrouping position. Michaels cheered happily, learning that his friends made it safely out of that hell hole, and said "Lead on then!". They slowly walked past death kinght corpses and partially decayed treant bodies, towards the farm.

    As soon as they catched the glimpse of the farm house, Michaels rushed forward, as fast as he could at his wounded state, to meet his comrades. Grimgor was feeling a bit sick, especially he was having nausea, and it got stronger and stronger as they walked. Suddenly, he could not resist the urge to disgorge, so he held a nearby tree, leaning towards forward and vomitted. He wiped his mouth with his arm, and a wild burp bursted out of his mouth. In shame, he turned his face to the curious druid and said "Too much wine.".

    As they entered the farm house, he saw the Forsaken leader discussing matters with Darion Mograine and Aldean. He clenched his teeth in rage, "That is Sylvanas." he thought, now realising who he saw earlier at the town. He never saw her before, but he knew her face from the tabards: The very same tabards that forsaken troops were wearing when they dumped his near-dead body out of Shadowfang Keep. His rage grew bigger and bigger, but suddenly he managed to stop it: Discipline. That was the basis he had to remember, to prevent himself from repeating mistakes of the past.

    He looked around the room, and suddenly realised: Where was the Thane? He looked around, he went to the kitchen, he hastily climbed the stairs, he rushed outside. Nowhere. He saw the contingent of dwarven troops, attending to their wounded and gryphons. He ran there, asking the first rifleman he saw: "Where is commander?". Rifleman bowed his head, instead of an answer. Grimgor realised the situation, and in quiet condolence, he bowed his head too. Moments of memory flashed in his mind: His first charge through the death knights, leading his rifleman through chaos, bashing skeletal warriors and ghouls at the tower.. He remembered how he felt a deep urge of respect while blessing him. That was the last memory he had of him, and that short period was enough. "Respect.." he thought to himself, "..is fitting no one else better.".

    He sat down there for a moment, and realised how exhausted and hungry he was. He did not eat or sleep since he left Stormwind. His robes were in scraps, dirty and bloody. He was very tired, and bad news just didn't do well for his morale. He got up, slowly walking towards the farm house's kitchen. A nice smell of herb was covering the entrance, and he saw the mage and druid mixing stuff near the fire. Sifting through the cupboards, he found some dried meat, along with some stale corn bread. He threw the meat of the fire, then impaled the old bread to a fork, after heating it up on the fire, he grabbed the dissolving meat too, And while trying to evade burning his fingers, he rolled the bread around the meat and started biting it. His mouth full, he murmured "Milk would hav' be nice.".
    Last edited by Mengucekli; 2012-09-05 at 10:46 PM.

  18. #98
    Scarab Lord Chonar's Avatar
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    At the edges of the Plague cloud explosion, the air had grown thick with a mixture of lingering plague, saturated with the much more natural mist that had creeped up around the farm house. Now a mixture of wispy tendrils of moisture and plague, so far away from the epicenter the dilluted plague had lost its' deadly properties, despite still being highly unpleasant to inhale. It did, however, limit vision to a couple feet.

    thump
    Chris heard it first, sensitive lupine ears picking up the faint sound of something heavy impacting the ground.

    thump... thump
    Footsteps. Heavy, pained footsteps of plate boots. Grimgor and Darren could hear it too, at this point.

    thump
    Looking outside into the blend of mist and dilluted plague, the heroes saw the lumbering silhouette of the mountainking shambling towards the hut. He looked larger and moved slower, groaning and dragging one of his weapons along the ground behind him.

    The riflemen looked at eachother in distress. They knew what the plague could do, and what it could cause to those not killed by it. Mournful frowns partially hidden by beards, they kneeled down, raised their blunderbusses towards the shambling silhouette, and took aim through the scopes.

    "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

  19. #99
    Mechagnome Mengucekli's Avatar
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    Munching on his bread roll, Grimgor felt his stomach was being satisfied. "That felt good." he murmured, heating up his feet by the fire while eating. Then, all of a sudden, he felt ground shake, very slightly. He was not sure what was happening. He stood up, and saw the water in the cauldron wavering with circles from the middle of it. Thump.. Thump..

    He could hear it now, clearly something big was approaching the farm house. Hastily swallowed rest of his food, and rushed outside in panic to see what was happening. The moment he got out, he saw the dwarven riflemen aiming at something towards the direction of town, he turned over, and saw the gigantic silhuette at the horizon, inside the mist. "By the light!" he gulped, and stood there, frozen.

  20. #100
    High Overlord Knephertiti's Avatar
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    Chris turned his head at hearing the thumping. The mists obscured his vision at first, but as the others began hearing it, his sharp eyes recognized the form of the enlarged Mountainking. Yet, despite the plague, Chris sensed something... natural. Something living. Unsure, he took a step forward, trying to get a better look. As he did, his ears picked up on another sound. Trying to place it, his blood suddenly started pumping harder.
    The riflemen, they are preparing to fire! Blood roaring, he turns to the dwarfs, letting loose a loud, half roar, half yell. "STOP! HOLD YOUR FIRE! Something is off here. Unless he attacks, DO NOT SHOOT!"
    Turning towards the farm house, Chris raised his voice even louder. "JORN! We need you here, NOW!"

    Jorn, having seen the priest get up and run to the door, and the commotion outside, was already on his hooves by the time he heard Chris roar his name. He sprinted to the door, stopping before hitting the stunned dwarf priest, and looked out.
    "By the Earth Mother..." Picking up the priest as to not knock him over, Jorn stepped outside the doorway. After taking a few steps, he set down the dwarf again, before raising his hands towards the figure in the mist. Jorn summoned a gust of wind, using the natural energies and mist to push back the cloud.

    The figure was revealed from the mist, and a collective intake of breath was heard, as all those watching gasped.
    My RP Characters:
    The Wandering Smith - Stephen Gallister

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