1. #1
    Blademaster Broekan's Avatar
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    Nov 2010
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    Orgrimmar
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    48

    Home is where the Hearthstone is attuned to. Where is your home?

    Though she is a hardened warrior of the Frostwolf clan, Chroni does not find home in the valley of strength, nor does she wander the valley of honor among other warriors and respected members of the horde. The Tauren in the valley of Wisdom are friendly and wise but she only travels here when she have a purpose to fulfill.

    She is not a shaman, but non the less, The valley of spirits is where she has chosen to attune her hearthstone. The little troll inn surrounded by the smooth sounding rivers gives her a feeling of relaxation which she can find nowhere else in Azeroth. The Hammocks are a fantastic place to sleep after a hard day, and the trolls are like family.

    Though Garrosh "New Horde" does not approve of them, Chroni have always been fond of the trolls and as Thrall once said "The Horde is family".

    Walking around the Valley of Spirits fills her with a peace which doesn't seem to be of this world. She mingles with the trolls and she loves hearing about their adventures and sharing her own. Training her snakes with Xan'tish and sparing with Zanga. This is Home.

    ((Where is does your characters hearthstone lead?))

  2. #2
    Mechagnome Mengucekli's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2010
    Location
    Where i lay my head is home..
    Posts
    583
    Tiny, gloomy little room with an oil lamp, a closet, a broom and an old bed, hard as a rock.. Brother Grimgor's quarters in Stormwind Cathedral has no luxuries, yet finding his inner calm is never a hard task while in there, which makes that room the most tranquil place on Azeroth for him. Long nights of prayers and days full of mundane duties of Brotherhood never bores him. Because, outside his tiny little sanctuary, world is full of horrors and pain, which he faced many times to date. Perils of the outside world is nothing but a distant dream in the cold, moist halls of the stone building. Never same as a family, yet still has a similar feeling and touch, the Brotherhood of Light is always there for him when he is lost, confused or lonely. Kindly teachers, masters and brothers of the light always appreciate his devoutness, and he could feel home nowhere esle. Except....... Some nights he spends in the Golden Keg, drinking and brawling.. A dwarf is a dwarf, after all.

    Manor Cornwall, overlooking both the Great Seas, Thoradin's Wall and Stromgarde's once majestic walls, is a place worthy of an Arathi nobleman. Since the days when Arathor defeated other human tribes and founded the great nation of Stromgarde, Cornwalls used to live on those hillskirts. Sir Rory, knight and loyal subject of King Arathor earned the right to build his house atop the hills overlooking the nation's green plains. Manor Cornwall was named after the corn fields that Rory's descendants used to grow between Stromgarde's walls and today's Dunholde, which also gave the surname to Rory's line later on. Ralof Thoradin Cornwall, eldest of Cornwalls today, yet a prodigal adventurer, receded from his rights to be the Duke of Cornwall for the good of his people, but that never stops him to drop by the manor he was born in, whenever he passes by during his travels. That is partly because the Manor is a very comfortable place to begin with, cellars full of century old wines and someone's allways cooking delicious meat, but the real reason is that he allways feels 'home' there, when he is with his younger brother and now old and sick mother.

    Jang'fon, the terribly large dark troll, possibly last of his kind.. One would think that such a race would never perish.. Yet his entire clan was decimeted, his home left in ashes, and he was chased to his death.. Well, almost dead. Yet, 'protector' of his people never gave in to guilt, never submitted to the machinations of his clan's enemies.. He lived a life of jungle guerilla warfare for many years, striding from one part of the dense forests of Ashenvale and Mount Hyjal to another, from one tree to the next, one cave to another pit.. From shadows to shadows he moved, allways sleeping one eye open, allways ambushing his enemies and vanishing to the night.. One would think such a life would change a person forever, no matter how savage a troll is that is, and that he would never find a plae he can all home again.. But one would be wrong. As soon as the fight escalated to the point where his enemies lost their advantage and tides of battle turned, he found his revered Loa, Goldrinn, and with him, his sanctuary.. Some place he can call home. Ever since that day, when some nameless adventurers freed the ferocious ancient from the corruption of his darker self, Jang'fon pledged his service and his life to the Great White Wolf. Now he wanders the camp, making not more than a few friends among Goldrinn's followers, and he waits for an oppurtunity to bash the skulls of his enemies, to quench his bloodthirst that would never be sated completely.

    (( Here ya go ))

  3. #3
    Though the climate in Dalaran has once again hit racist with a chance for genocide, Dorinthar nevertheless still lurks in the seamy sewers of 'the Underbelly'. For an additional 'discretion surcharge' Dorinthar rents a padlocked rotten crate 'lockbox' (with mostly dry mattress therein) from the weaselly goblin banker, Binzik Goldbook. This inconspicuous habit is far from a product of the recent developments, however; Dorinthar has lived thusly in the sewers for at a decade now.

    Though he is no longer a magister (or indeed, one to indulge in arcana at all), nor a beggar-thief scraping the cusp of wretchedness, Dorinthar draws a curious comfort from the rotten repository of great Dalaran's waste; he relates somewhat to the filth and vermin, and feels it serves as a nice reminder of the fundament of the city, as well as his own painstaking crawl back to stability and sanity. Certainly, he has the resources to buy a modest dwelling in any of the valleys of Orgrimmar; and indeed does most of his business there to boot; it is but a wry sort of self-inflicted hardship; a daily sip of bittersweet nostalgia and scorn that he lives there still.

    Or perhaps he just enjoys the opportunity to dip his blades into the odd, so-called, 'high elf' who foolishly follows a silver covenant errand into the shadows below.
    Last edited by composemail; 2013-05-31 at 09:05 PM.

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