War of the Greys: Lordaeron [Open RP]

[Darced]

Aldean came close after the mage, and he too marveled at the carnage before him. He turned towards the stairs and ran up, not too far from Darren. So much for this trip. He continued up the stairs, concerned with what other surprises this place had in store for them.

[Chonar]

Ghouls shrieked and clawed at everything they could as their bodies were torn into bloody, ichoreous ribbons as, one by one, they were pulled into that helmet-bound void. Others were simply sliced in half. The Time-Lost let out another metallic-sounding hollow screech, obviously frustrated as the ghouls gave it pause.

Chonar hurried back up the stairs. "That won't stop it. That won't.. that won't stop it. How is it here? How is it here, now?" He hurriedly spoke, the old dwarf obviously terribly disturbed by the appearance.

Scrape

"He's comin up th' stairs!"

The dwarf turned the corner and struck one of the old, worn doors with his shoulder, busting it open. The room before them was the garage, turned into a miniature roofed harbor. He looked around, and spotted the Steam Barge.

The large floating contraption of steel lay dormant in the water. Twice the size of your average undead abomination, it basically looked like an amphibious Steam Tank.

"There! O'er there!" He pointed at it. "Get in! Get in, we'll bust outta 'ere!"

SCRAPE

Making up the rear, Neyira caught the blade of the Time-Lost in her back. For all its' lumbering size and the seemingly slow rate at which it walked, it seemed remarkably fast when it wanted to strike. The Death Knight was sent hurtling into the rest of the party, her plate armor rended asunder from the back, her body bowling over the unwary like a nightelf-shaped wrecking ball.

[Mengucekli]

(( Where is Knep? :/ ))

[Darced]

((It seems this RP is getting bogged down so I say we make a quick escape and go fight some Scourge captains outside. Anyone for that?))

[xensorlol]

((Sure, lol. Why not. ;3))

[Mengucekli]

(( Im in))

[Darced]

As the adventurers made their way up the stairs and noticed the garage where a large steam tank was waiting. "Quick! Everyone get inside!" screams Aldean as he dashes towards the war machine. He came to the hull and smashed the side door to the passenger car, gears could be heard inside and the door slides open. "Let's go!" The adventurers enter the tank, Neyira being carried by Darren and the tauren druid. Once everyone was inside Aldean pulled a lever and the door closed as the Time-Lost approached slowly towards them.

Aldean heads for the cockpit and sits in the pilot's chair. "I haven't driven one of these in ages, let alone such a odd model." He presses a few keys that start the steam engine. The machine begins to rattle and smoke on the outside. He presses some more buttons above him, often times the tread controls. "Uhh, guys it looks like I may need some covering fire, these controls are a tad different." He pulls a side seat lever that opens up a hatch at the top of the tank. "Man the guns! Keep the thing away while I start this thing!" Aldean presses more keys and the sounds of ammunition entering the gun mechanisms can be heard clanking as they are loaded into the gun by steam. Light damn it, where is the tread controls? I can start without them warming up. He thinks to himself, "Chonar! I need some help!"

((I think we found our assault vehicle for the plaguelands!))

[xensorlol]

Darren was going to continue following the others, but then noticed the kaldorei death knight, severely injured and unconscious. Don't do it, Frostwhisper. Leave her. A sacrifice to save yourself. Her death was not in vain! You don't even know her!
"That's not going to stop me from doing what's right." Darren said to himself, turning back, cursing to himself the whole time. No matter how right it may have seemed, risking his life to save a death knight was a stupid notion altogether. The young mage blinked back to the bottom of the stairs where the night elf's ravaged corpse lay, and hesitated. Her twin runeblades lay abandoned beside her, their runes glowing softly. He grabbed them first, gasping as the dark power they held tried to take over his body and soul. He pushed down their tempting whispers with his own powerful magic, and sheathed them. He then bent down and scooped up the death knight, who weighed a ton more than she should have, due to her armor. "Damn it."
He turned and ran up the stairs as fast as he could, bogged down by both the night elf and her swords, which bounced on his legs, bruising them as he ran.

[dangelo37]

(( I've been reading this RP from the get-go and I really am enjoying it! Shame to see it slip away... C'mon guys!!! Keep it going 8D ))

[Chonar]

(( Just waiting for the others to make their contribution before we bust outta here, if the Time-Lost doesn't kill us all, of course. :> Obviously this segment served to give us a sweet ride and introduce a secondary villain, so now that's nearing its completion, the story's about to get back to Darced's pacing again! ))

[Mengucekli]

(( Well Grim is unconcious so i reckon i won't be able to contribute untill we burst out of there and he has time to recover ))

[xensorlol]

((Neyira is mortally wounded and Darren has her right now. There's two villains right now: Darced and the Time-Lost. Soon, though, I believe we'll be introducing a third... and this could be tough for Neyira, as well as dangerous for the rest of the adventurers. :X))

[Darced]

((Well it seems interest has been renewed. So sorry I haven't continued! I assumed everyone was gone! I'll get us out of this cave so we can start fresh I suppose.))

As Aldean scrambled to start the mechanisms that would thrust the tank out of the outpost, he pressed many buttons and pulled levers. "Damn it! This thing should have started by now!" He continued on his quest and assumed an exodus across the dashes and panels of the tank. Soon afterwards though as the Time-Lost was sure to come crashing in, the steam tank let loose a couple of cracks, accompanied by the sounds of steam rushing through the interior. "Finally! Everyone hold on!" Aldean thrust his foot into the acceleration pedal and the war machine began to release smoke throughout the chambers.

The door slammed shut and Aldean looked back into the passenger pit. The death knight and mage had joined them, Dear Light, that idiot... Evereyone was inside and Aldean smirked, "Away we go then." The steam tank rushed forward and a garage door began to open slightly as the tank approached, running over activation pedals as it progressed. The Light if the moon began to crack into the outpost's garage and flooded the cockpit.

The tank was then smashed by something on the exterior and Aldean was barely able to contain the tank. "It's the Time-Lost!" The gargantuan had leaped toward the machine and was able to secure itself upon the back of the tank. It's feet planted into the ground and the machine was beginning to slow. So to did the doors begin to shut. We need to hit the pedals fast enough or the doors will shut! Light damn dwarves! Aldean smashed his foot into the pedal and began to inch out of the Time-Lost's grip. He looks to his left and Aldean spots the controls for the all terrain drive. He pulls the lever and immeadiatly the tank begins to regain it's traction. The Time-Lost is thrust back and onto it's back, leaving the tank to it's escape. The machine passes through the doors and they close behind the group.

Aldean drives forward to a nearby stream and parks the tank so that he can refill the steam vats. He walks to the passenger pit, "Let's rest our legs for a bit, we've had a horrid night."

[Mengucekli]

Grimgor awakened after they bursted out of garage, partially because of the shake and partially of his nightmares.

As soon as he passed out, horrid dreams of past had covered his entire mind and soul, releasing unbearable agony to his inner self. As he had a very unfortunate battle of minds with the Time-Lost, which he actually losed badly, he was suffering nerve destroying side effects of the terrible fight.

In his nightmares, he remembered himself still being in orphanage. A man, with eyes as dark as a crow's plume, was reaching out to him, holding his hand with a wicked smile on his face, telling him of a life he knew few of. A moment later, he was in his casual white garb, entering a chamber full of others like him, brothers and sisters of light, applauding and yelling excitedly at him, and there was a birthday cake on the table, its top full of lit candles and sweets which he allways liked and wanted but never could get. He was raising his hand to have a piece, even if a little piece, but suddenly horrific creatures bursted out of the cake, candles dimmed, and even his brothers and sisters turned into horrific beasts with no faces. He was trying to yell and scream, but allways found himself silenced. He could not utter a single word although he was tearing his throat out for screams.

After those horrible dreams, he finally awakened. He was still lying on the bench of the steam tank's interior, regularly shaking as the amphibious vehicle was trying to find its way towards the springs that were headed to Caer Darrow's lake. At first he could not realise where he was and how he got there, then he saw the others inside the tank. He let the breath he was holding up untill then, but was far from relief. He was still under the shock of the fight and he was holding his hands at his throat, like he was being drowned. In fear, his eyes were still searching inside the metallic compartment for any signs of their horrific enemy.

[xensorlol]

Darren sighed at the reprieve. Finally. Now, to you... He laid the mortally-wounded death knight on one of the passenger seats, careful to move her body as little as possible. He set her on her stomach, and let her uninjured arm hang off of the bench. Her helmet had been knocked off and lost somewhere back in the cave, and her long, silky hair, white as fresh snow, was matted with blood.
"By the Light," he muttered, eyes wide as he stared at the night elf death knight's wounds. Her back had been savagely sliced, her armor shredded. Blood already soaked the bench and dripped off the side, creating a second crimson pool. Her right arm was bent crooked and also bleeding, and blood dripped from her mouth. Yet, somehow, she still yet lived.
"She shouldn't even be alive right now," he growled, turning to the others. "Please tell me one of you can heal wounds as severe as this."
I'm surprised you actually care this much, his conscience muttered. He just growled, clenching his fists.

[Darced]

Meanwhile, at the gates of Hearthglen.

Sylvanas was panting as her arrows were having little effect. She pulled one from the quiver on her back and notched it quickly, hoping to score the hit that would bring down the evil before her. She fires, but to no avail, Darced simply roasted it mid flight. The lich used the opportunity to flash a streak of flames towards the Banshee Queen, but also freezing her into place. "No!" Sylvanas screams as she stands immobile before the wall of fire. The impact of the blast causes her to drop her bow and shield herself with her right arm. The frost trap melts, but the damage has been done. Darced moves in quickly and draws his blade, "It is time." Sylvanas watches as the lich holds the sword above her head, preparing to end her existence.

Is it finally over? The sorrow, the sadness? What will happen to my people?-- Do I care? Darkness engulfs her mind, the lich had stabbed into her head, releasing Sylvanas from her eternal prison. Will I be thrust into that pit with Arthas? Were the valky'r truthful?" Her body collapses to the dirt road before Heartglen and Darced removes his sword, revealing a host of black globs of blood. Her red eyes remain wide open, frozen in the fear that had killed her. "Goodbye Lady Sylvanas." The lich turns and floats off towards Heartglen. "In death you will find clarity, the truth that had eluded you so. The truth that will save this world."

As Sylvanas drifts off into the void of death and her consciousness begins to wane a final thought comes to the Banshee Queen's mind. Where have you gone my friend?

((Is this the end of the Forsaken? Stay tuned...))

[xensorlol]

((Haha, ooh, suspense. So, is this RP continuing? Or are you making another one? Just wondering. ))

[Darced]

((I would like to continue this one, but it seems people may have lost interest. I guess I'll try to get this rolling again...))

Aldean was using a small canteen from the tank to fill the vaporator and steam began to engulf the tank's hull. "Light!" He thrusts the canteen into the stream. "Sorry all, but the tank is done, it overheats after a few Light damn feet!" He kneels before the broken vehicle as smoke rises from inside. Even a moment longer in that thing and we would have been crispy. He sighs, unsure of what to do next.

"Ah, adventurers." Aldean looks behind him to the source of the voice. "So nice to see the young in this land, battling demons and dead. It kindles the fire in an old man's heart." Aldean watches as a man in a white robe and a warhammer on his back addresses the party. "If it would please you, I can take you to the Argent Crusade in Tyr's Hand. They will need all the help they can get." Aldean stands, "Thank you stranger, but who are you? What are you doing here?" The stranger rises his hand, :I am but an old paladin, hoping to die in the stead of those who are young." The old man's face his hidden by a drooping white hood, bright as if it was freshly dyed and tailored. "You must be rather well off to keep such clean clothes in such conditions." says Aldean. The stranger lowers his arm and inspects it as if marveled, "Let's just say I'm a lucky man. Come, all of you, we should move on. Darced's minions prey life wherever they can find it, but you are the right place. Aldean looks as if he were unsure, "Why is that sir?" The old man smiles from under his hood, "Why my dear friends, most times the best place to be, is right under the lich's nose."

[Darced]

The old man went into the plague-wood and Aldean beckoned the party to follow him.

The party walked for an hour through the forest, the old man at the head of the party. "Shh!" He says as he extends his hand to his right. "We have company friends. Keep your eyes open." The stranger unsheathes his hammer from his back, his chain mail shines from under his cloak. "It's him."

The party stood in a grove surrounded by disfigured trees. They cried in agony with their horrific death mask like faces, the bark began to curl as ghouls and abominations charge from the trees. The old man readied his weapon and thrust it up with one hand, rays of light cascaded from it and caused the first wave to disintegrate in mid motion. "Darced's found us! Prepare yourselves!"

Darced watches from a nearby rise, Scourge marauders at his side, veterans of Darrowshire and Andorhal. The lich looks down to his skeletal hand and grunts, "Destroy the paladin, and keep an eye out for that project that went missing." The marauder to his right nods and heads down the hill towards the charging Scourge. You'd better not be who I think you are paladin, because if so my plans may be for nougat. The lich turns to a cage that siphons violet energy throughout it's radius. Made of twisted Scourge metal and held in place by dark energies the only thing inside that is visible is the prisoner's face. Isn't that right Fordring? Another light wielder to add to my collection?

---------- Post added 2012-11-07 at 04:20 PM ----------

"Milord!" A rider came from the plague-lands, from the hell before the Argent Crusade. The gates of Tyr's Hand opened allowing the weary messenger to enter the keep. The doors closed behind him and he approached the Scarlet roofed barracks. Tyr's Hand wasn't in the tip top shape as it had under the Scarlet crusade, but the walls held firm and the town behind them was once again filled with people. Though the populace wasn't nearly as contempt as those who were slaughtered by the Ebon Blade years before.
"Sir! I have news from all four towers." An Argent captain awaited the soldier and eagerly listened as the messenger explained the situation. "The plague-wood tower vangaurd are in full retreat and will require escort. They've gathered at Corin's Crossing and plan to retreat to here. The Scourge forces are far too many." Lord Zverenhoff placed his hand on the soldier's shoulder, "Go back there and tell them they will have their escort." The messenger nods with a slight smile on his face, clearly relieved. He turns his horse and rides towards the gates as they open for him once more.
The rider passes through the keep doors and he marvels at the sight around him. Catapults and soldiers all in rows awaiting the incoming Scourge attack that will sure be soon. The Argents stand at the ready and are on the alert. Patrolmen can be seen on the outskirts at the edge of the forests, keeping a close vigil on the woods. The rider speeds up knowing that reinforcements will arrive soon, thanks to him. His horse dashes down the road and the rider smirks wickedly. Black magic swirls around him as he renews his disguise, nearly revealing his rotten flesh for a moment. Lord Darced your will is my command.

[xensorlol]

Darren was careful as he followed closely behind the party, the wounded night elf in his arms. If I don't find a healer for her soon, she'll bleed out. He knew she was still alive, because everytime his body was jarred from the impact of his feet hitting the ground, she groaned in agony. Though she was a death knight, he truly felt sorry for her. "Don't worry," he murmured. "Just hang in there."
After stumbling into the lone paladin, Darren had hoped he'd be able to question him and possibly request a healing. Unfortunately, they'd been swift to leave their site; thus leavign Darren with no time to spare words. He began to grow frustrated as they moved onward relentlessly, and was trying to make his way closer to the leading paladin. Just as he neared him however, the stranger lifted his hand, calling a halt. Only now did Darren realize where they were.
Dark woods, shadows flitting through the trees which happen to be dead. Plaguelands. I'm not so sure I'm liking this very much . . .
The night elf stirred in his arms. Before they'd left the tank, he'd bandaged up her wounds as best as he could, and had given her a healing potion that he'd swiftly brewed up with some miscellaneous ingredients he'd been carrying with him. Though the bandages were soaked through with congealing blood and ichor, he marveled at the fact that she was still alive . . . or whatever you would term a 'living' death knight.
Suddenly, her eyes opened, shining a dim azure. Her pale violet skin had taken on a much more grayer hue than before, but she still yet moved. She coughed, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. She raised her hand and placed it on his shoulder, steadying herself as she adjusted her position in his arms.
Neyira, he thought, recalling her name. "Are you all right, Neyira?"
She hesitated before replying, closing her eyes for a moment. "I . . . I believe so, yes." She paused, looking up into his eyes, then she cast her gaze downward. "Thank-you for rescuing me. I don't understand why anyone would save one of my kind."
Darren didn't reply; just grunted and struggled to keep his arms up. "Think you can walk?"
Before Neyira could speak, the gnarled, dead trees around them began to scream, their bark curling and decaying. The stranger drew his hammer, as did the rest of the party. Darren gently set Neyira down on her feet, and she stood shakily. After a moment, she regained her footing, then reached for her missing swords.
Darren unsheathed them from his waist and handed them both to her, hilt first.
Neyira reached out and took hold of Icegore and Frosthowl. Instantly, she felt her energy return and her strength grow slightly. She drained some of the life energy stored within the blades to partially heal her wounds. Thank-you, mage . . . I know not who you are, but I will be sure to repay you. She turned to the trees, twin runeblades held ready.
"Darced's found us! Prepare yourselves!" the stranger cried, and Neyira's gut clenched. The bastard doesn't know when to let up, does he? She growled, scanning her surroundings. At her back, the young mage readied two blue-hued fireballs, eyes flaring. She felt the strength of his magic, and marveled at it. For one so young and seemingly-inexperienced, he clearly knows what he is doing.
"If we're ambushed, we will be hard-pressed," she said to him in a low tone. "Darced will have more than just than the regular order."
"You seem to know an awful lot about this Darced character," he growled through clenched teeth. "I'm assuming you've had some sort of run-in with him before?"
Neyira didn't speak instantly, remembering the incident in Icecrown, and Lethean. More than just a 'run-in,' young human . . . More than you could think. Aloud she said, "I guess you could say that. Just remember: This is going to be a . . . special's menu. Let's try to not make it as a dessert, all right?"
The mage grunted, and Neyira concentrated at the task at hand. Come, Darced . . . let us see how you fare this time.