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Genesis 4, The Cataclysm (Open RP)
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Post by
oneforthemoney
Who would fight the end of the world? Who could?
The Cataclysm rocked the very foundations of Azeroth. The world pillar sundered by Deathwing’s return. The elements themselves were in upheaval. The mere presence of the corrupted aspect made volcanoes explode. Islands sink. Nations tremble and cities fall. The landscape was torn, tortured, the world broken in a way not seen since the Sundering. And across Azeroth, from dark corners where nightmares wait and black things lurk, armies marched again. The truce between Alliance and Horde, stretched so thin since the Third War, snapped! And when the world could afford it least, the great nations fought like savage dogs while gods cackled in their prisons and sought the end of all things.
The hour of Twilight struck. The very world teetered on the brink of oblivion. Monsters and maniacs sought to finish what the Destroyer began. Never were heroes needed more. Never would it be harder to find them.
For once, to follow a man to the ends of the earth was a very literal prospect.
The Cataclysm had come.
Welcome to Genesis 4! The fourth in the series reliving the expansions of World of Warcraft. This RP will be like the first two really. To those new to it, this means the characters are young experience wise. What that means is they will be one of two things. Will either know how to fight through training but little direct experience, or will have experience without necessarily training. The idea behind the low level quota is to keep things interesting and keep things from spiraling out of control.
As the RP progresses of course the characters will grow more powerful, but beginning, they would be between level ten and twenty. This also means the villains cannot be so powerful to overwhelm the heroes all at once.
As for the time that it is set, the Cataclysm has just begun. Deathwing sweeps over Azeroth and the world breaks in his wake. The Hammer has made their move, the naga too. Hyjal is being attacked and the Twilight Highlands are being conquered. The Horde and Alliance are at war once more.
For the previous RP's of note, see
here,
here
,
here
, and
here
.
Good luck, no godmoding, and for the love of all things have some fun!
Post by
oneforthemoney
Name:
Barrett Blackhammer
Location:
Stormwind
The earth moved.
Barrett glanced back at the window and his eyes narrowed at the red glow over the horizon. Was dawn so near? How odd. He hadn’t thought he’d spent that much time. He turned back to the woman before him and willed her move faster. And thanks to the mind control spell, his will was to obey.
She was utterly naked. She had a figure where age had begun to creep in but beauty was still more than mere memory. In the shade of shadows her skin remained pale and few wrinkles showed. Her breasts were still pert and her body toned. Her hair a sweat matted tangle about her head. Behind them, the sheets of the bed were in a scattered landscape of folds. Her gown had fallen in a crumpled heap on the floor where Barrett had gently removed it, kissing up her neck while his hands busied themselves divesting her of her clothing.
She was not young, had only began to edge into the time when silver began to show in her hair, but such women are vain above all else. And for a woman, age was easily forgotten beneath the skilled hands of a younger lover.
Barrett had dressed afterwards. He wore dark leathers beneath his black cloak which hung from him almost like a robe. His hair was a wavy blonde and his skin just slightly bronzed. He was young indeed. But his eyes told of years of bitterness that makes young men old. His shoes were padded to be soft, and on his belt he wore an old, black libram bound in steel, and a subtle stiletto of curving style.
He looked like an assassin. Which was a blatant lie.
He was a *!@#$ and a thief of the finest quality.
But people love lies, particularly from attractive men. And after all, he thought, his eyes lined with writhing violet shadows as they commanded the woman before him to remove the painting and handle the lock of the hidden safe, was he a thief if they gave him their treasures with their own hands?
He might have felt cruel for it. For, when she was at her most vulnerable, arching beneath him with a final gasp of pleasure, he had stolen her mind with the whispered words of a spell. But he was young. And skill was still something he lacked in manipulating shadow magic. And he was poor, and starvation is a powerful motivator. Still, he was handsome and young, and as he watched her twirl the lock of the safe with well versed movements, he felt no shame.
He glanced back at the reddening glow peeking in through the curtains. The night had gotten away from him. He needed to move fast.
There was a click from the safe and it opened at her touch. Barrett’s eyes flashed within the simmering shadows of the spell and he approached on shoes lined with velvet.
The glass of the window exploded inward and a sound like a hurricane came on the back of heat like hell’s fire. Barrett was flung across the room, striking a table with a shout of pain. The curtains billowed, heaving like a pair of lungs as hot air was blasted into the room. From where he had fallen Barrett looked up blankly through the open window.
And saw death.
He had seen a dragon, once. A netherwing by the name of Lupaine. That had been a lifetime gone. But this was like no dragon any man should see. It swept over the city roofs on wings of fire. Its scales were steel plates hammered to flesh like molten rock. Its very size defied belief and comprehension. Buidligns were that big. Small nations were that big.
Yet it flew, every beat of its wings sending hot air whirling across the city. It blotted out the moon with its sheer size and veins of molten lava glowed from its form. It swung about, and Barrett saw a golden eye burning deep in a socket, and he suddenly felt as small as a worm beneath the intensity of that ancient hate.
The dragon swept about. Its mere passing made trees ignite in flames like unholy candles. Roofs rattled and shingles were torn into the dragon’s wake as it swept towards the horizon.
It passed from before the window, and Barrett’s thoughts crawled back from where they had scattered at the sheer realization of how small and insignificant his mere existence and all his problems truly were.
But they were his.
There was a groan from nearby and the naked woman began to rise. Barrett jerked to his feet, instinct moving him, throwing the table off him with a clatter. She looked at him and drew back in confusion.
She screamed at the same time alarms throughout Stormwind blared to life. Her scream recalled him. He threw open the door of the safe and grabbed everything he could, hurling them into a satchel. Gold, gems, it didn’t matter. The time for subtlety was done. Still the woman screamed, huddling away from the golden haired thief. Barrett raced for the window, shattered glass crinkling beneath his shoes. He reached the sill as fists pounded on the door, and he jumped.
“
Levit
,” he whispered over the burning city.
On that word of power he floated through the air, drifting down on the wings of a levitation spell. As he descended, time seemed to slow, the lawn rising before him, the elaborate manor house receding behind him, its white walls red in the light of flames. Outside, midair, he could see the full breadth of the devastation.
The city barracks was in flames. Sparks and ash choked the sky while smoke billowed from buildings. People ran about the streets. The park was gone. Simply gone, torn from the very earth, ripped along with the cliffs that had defended it into the sea.
For the second time that night, Barrett saw Deathwing.
The massive dragon was perched over the gates, his profile just visible to the shadow priest. Barret saw Deathwing’s iron jaw was locked tight, his claws gripping two towers and melting the very stone by his touch. His wings spread, and their shadow seemed to fall over the world. He raised his head and his roar made the stones tremble and the air ring, silencing the alarm bells still resounding.
Barrett landed in the street, stumbled as the earth trembled, and ran.
Name:
Daneera Halfmoon
Location:
Ashenvale
The wind rushed through the trees of Ashenvlae. The ancient oaks shook as if in fear. Trees groaned and cracked, bending beneath the onslaught. The sky beyond was darkened as clouds of soot overtook the sky, blocking out the sun and blackening day to night, lit only by embers which fell like blazing sparrows onto the world below. In the west a wave arose, towering tall before crashing into the shore, tearing trees from their roots and unveiling ruins lain dormant for centuries beneath sands.
Away from the black cloud wandered a small shape. A hippogryph, it moved slowly, dragging its taloned forefeet and its hooved rear. Its feathers were always dark like a raven’s, but now ash fell from it like black snow to taint the pristine grass. One wing dragged heavily along the ground, the beast’s crow-like head, normally raised proud and haughty with its crown of horns like a stag’s, was bowed with pain and exhaustion.
He was not the only one.
His rider clutched his feathered neck, burying her face in it. Her skin was the dusky violet of the night elves, and there was much to see. Her armour was naturally sparse, with silver steel conforming to her figure to cover only the essentials, a helm like a tiara with jaw guards on her head, nothing to inhibit the lithe movements which were like a second nature to the elves. But she wore less than even usual. The metal was scuffed, what cloth there had been torn. Dried blood marked her flesh and wounds stood out starkly. Two of said tattoos were beneath the eyes like claws of birds, bisected by a long cut which closed one eye. To those who knew their meaning they spoke of ranks and family. Soot and ash smeared her skin like camouflage save two long streaks from her closed eyes. Across her back was a bow and attached to the saddle were arrows that rattled in their quiver, nearly spent.
Her good eye caught a flash of silver and she gently urged the hippogryph that way. The beast croaked in pain and she soothed it with a whisper. “It’s okay Kallis. It’ll be okay.”
Kallis croaked again, but obeyed.
They soon found pool sparkled beneath the trees. A lonely thing, surrounded by the mighty oaks of Ashenvale which sheltered it with their leaves. The shade fair obscured the hippogryph with its dark plumage as it came to the side of the pool. Wearily the beast slumped to its knees by the waters edge and pushed its beak into the water, drinking greedily.
The night elf slid from her mount, steel bracers about her knees and legs jangling. She went barefoot, and winced as the pads of her feet, scoured black by fire, ached with every step. She fell to the side of the water and dipped her hands, bringing them back out and drinking greedily the water. The water was like a balm on her throat and she drank so quickly she choked. Coughing, spluttering, she covered her mouth with a hand until her body stopped shaking. When the coughing stopped she stared blankly at the reflection in the waters.
The sight of her crown of a helm seemed to wake some memory in her. Her hand shot to her belt and grabbed the scroll case there. She took a shaky breath, and the hippogryph looked up. It cawed worriedly at her.
She shook her head and touched his feathered neck. “It’s okay Kallis. I have it.” She shook. Her breath choked her. She suddenly threw her arms around the hippogryphs neck and hugged him tight, burying her face against him. His feathers still reeked of smoke and fire, and the horrible smell of seared flesh.
She shuddered. “We’ll get there,” she said against him. “Kallis. We’ll get there.”
The hippogryph croaked and nuzzled its rider sadly. The waves of the pool lapped gently at the shore and shone like silver and shadows in the gloom of the forest.
Post by
Atik
-
Stormwind City
Chainmail jingled over the young man's limbs, his motion stopping quite suddenly. Screams echoed out around her, arms and bodies shoving him as they rushed past. Still, the world seemed silent, the roar of Deathwing drowning it all out. "This can't be real..." He whispered. "This can't be happening."
"Well it is." The gruff voice broke the squire from his trance, and he looked skywards to see his master; Marcus Hopewell. "And it's our job to get these people to safety!" The man was built like a castle, wide shoulders which hefted ornate pauldrons, a lion head upon one and the other like the hilt of a sword, its crossguard like wings that spread over the shoulder armor, and its handle wrapped in white leather. The silver metal was painted red by the flames, his thick mustache the only part of his appearance that might be considered messy, although even that was well-groomed, spreading wide towards either side of his face, contrasting his short hair, combed back neatly. One hand held his sword, not much longer than a typical broadsword, but a blade as wide as its own crossguard, making it look somewhat shorter in comparison. His other hand, rather than gripping his shield that rested on his back, was instead wrapped upon the reigns of his horse. The animal twisted back and forth as its rider directed the sea of people, far more nervous than the paladin himself.
The boy swallowed hard, his blonde hair a mess, as he had barely drifted off to sleep when the sentries had woken everyone. He listened carefully, the sound of a bell hardly audible as an alarm against the chaos. With a deep breath, Daios Farlight shoved through the crowed, making his way across the bridge and towards the Trade District. A brief glance towards the water of the canals only furthered his resolve, fire and smoke reflected upon their dark surface. "Everyone!" He shouted over the screaming, shoving many that might have run past the bridge. "To the Cathedral District, hurry!"
Post by
oneforthemoney
Name:
Barrett Blackhammer
Location:
Stormwind
Barrett cut through the milling crowd like a shadow. Still alarm cried into the night. Barrett couldn't see Deathwing anymore, the sight blocked by buildings and smoke, but he could see the dull red glow radiating like a dark sun over gabled roofs and smoke. In the distance, the bells of the cathedral rang, deep and sonorous.
But his steps went far from that vaulted sanctuary.
The canal hissed below the bridge as Barrett crossed. He shoved a man simply standing in the middle aside. The human fell against the side and simply sat there, staring skyward with a dumbfounded expression. The shadow priest paid him no mind. Ahead the walls of the mage district rose. Not far he could see the sudden end of street where the park had once been before being ripped from its very foundations and cast into the sea. Further still the barracks lit the night like a massive torch, the very stone seeming to have caught aflame.
Post by
Atik
Marcus Hopewell, Daios Farlight
Stormwind
Slowly, the tide of people thinned, and the young man fell back with them. Returning to his teacher's side, he took position on the end of the bridge, all eyes on the Dragon poking over the tops of buildings and walls.
Daios shivered, despite the head. He could only wonder, think what the massive beast might want, imagine what it might be planning. Not a single likable prospect crept into his mind.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Name:
Barrett Blackhammer
Location:
Stormwind
It was one of those out of the way inns Barrett made his way to. It's food was neither grand nor foul. Its beds a place to sleep if not sink into. A simple place of reasonable rates, its name not worth remembering. If you found it, you already knew it was there. It was the sort of place that catered to farmers come to market and soldiers back from war, mercenaries looking for jobs and the like. The sorts of people who return reliably rather than the ones to be enticed into. The sort of place whose ladies of the evening worked for the owner rather than themselves.
The initial shock of the dragon had passed. The streets were fair empty by now, every window Barrett passed barred, every door shut tight. Fire burned across the city, his way lit by a hellish red light that made the city seem to be washed in blood. Barrett made his way to the door of the inn and slowed to a trot, glancing fretfully about. Not a soul stirred. Leaves bone dry crackled as they swirled from trees and down the avenues in the scorching night air.
Stopping before the door Barrett turned about. "Lignite!"
"Barrett?"
He turned sharply to the voice. From the shadows of an alley a figure walked into the red light.
She was slender, thin from worrying rather than dieting, and young, but of what age it was impossible to tell. It could be sixteen or twenty, but either way, only the most dedicated of suitor would call her beautiful. Her face was pinched and ghostly pale, but all across it were raised pink scars. Her eyes were a striking emerald and shot with veins glowing faintly green. She wore simple travelling clothes beneath a black cloak held in place by a silver clasp inlaid with a green stone. She held tightly in scarred hands a leather satchel that bulged with clothes.
At the sight of her the shadow priest visibly relaxed, but he frowned all the same and his voice was hard. "I told you to wait by the door."
"I was. But then the alarm was sounding and everyone was running so I hid. What's going on?"
"Stormwind's been attacked. I had to go. A dragon flew out of the sky."
Lignite stiffened but Barrett didn't see, looking down the quiet streets warily. "Dragon?" she asked.
"Yes. Came out of nowhere. I was...well, it woke the house. I had to run with what I could grab."
"What kind of dragon?"
"Big one. Bigger than I've ever seen, with steel plates hammered to its flesh and molten blood."
Just a fraction, Lingite relaxed, slowly breathing out. "So, what now?"
"The plan's the same," Barrett said. "We make for the docks."
"Will the ship sail?"
"If not it will soon. We don't have a choice either way. We'll stay the night if we have to but we can't be here. She knows I was here. Do you have everything?" She nodded. "Good. Come on. And be quick! It tore the entire park out and burned the barracks. We need to go by the Cathedral district. Hurry!"
Barrett raced back down the dark streets cut by bars of red light. Lignite followed more slowly, glancing furtively at the skies before racing after him and towards the Cathedral district.
Post by
Skreeran
Character: Rashahkk the Inexorable
Location: Orgrimmar
Rashahkk's deathcharger had no need of breath, but had it been living, it surely would have been frothing and gasping the way Rashahkk was spurring it through the streets of Orgrimmar. All around him orcs and trolls and tauren worked together to carry buckets to where the fire was burning hottest, scrambling madly with little direction or organization. As he rode across the valley of honor, he could see that the great majority of the wood and leather city was burning, the victim of an elemental invasion.
In front of him, he could see a fire elemental cackling madly as it flitted into the open door of a primitive orcish hut, immediately setting the dwelling on fire and driving out a small family of trolls who were screaming for their lives. Pathetic, Rashahkk thought to himself, but despite the weakness of the inhabitants of the hut, he was itching for a fight, as he always seemed to be, and thrust out his arm towards the elemental inside the building. Shadowy chains materialized in front of him, wrapping around the fiery creature, and he yanked hard, pulling the element roughly toward him and cleaving it in two with one of his double-bladed runeaxes. Easy enough.
Over across the valley, he spied Hellscream, Thrall, and Saurfang, moving from street to street as they carved a safe zone through the burning city. It seemed like Hellscream was doing most of the work, as usual, and Thrall was simply using his mysticism to pacify the elementals and extinguish the fires. Shameful. Even as his home was being invaded, he insisted on being peaceful and pacifistic. The only orc who chose the way of peace was the coward who feared battle. Rather it was Hellscream who drew his attention. Where Thrall was merciful, Garrosh was ruthless. Where Thrall feared battle, Garrosh relished it. Where Thrall was weak, Garrosh was strong.
Strong, save his mortal flesh. Rashahkk had been mortal once, and had believed that the greatest glory was to die in battle. Now he knew that there was greater glory, to live for battle, to be a killing machine above death itself, to drink the blood of ones enemies again and again. Garrosh was weak too, for one day his strength would fade away and he would be burned to dust, his glory only a memory, and his victories forgotten. No, Garrosh was stronger than Thrall, but his flesh and his honor held him back.
Another elemental dashed across his path. Rashahkk quickly resurrected a dead body in the road to seize hold of the burning spirit, and spoke a black word that made a rune on his blade glow faintly blue. Swinging his axes in a cross motion, he sent a wave of icy force forward that extinguished the burning flame with the chill of Northrend. Snapping his finger, he exploded the charred corpse with a grin and felt its deathforce flow back into him.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Name:
Tickten Morrowcroft
Location:
Orgrimmar/Valley of Honour
The guard screamed over the sizzling of his flesh and fell back, dead. Heedless of the corpse the fire elemental glided forward, the sands of the arena turning to glass beneath the column of flame that was its legs. Its presence lit the cells down the length with its hellish glow, the shadows of bars stark against frightened faces of slaves and gladiators.
But the elemental had no interest in them. Through cruel twist of fate, the wards upon the cells, meant to inhibit spells from escaping, kept the elemental out equally as well. It left, the flickering light of its form fading away.
In the silence, there was a gentle clink as deft hands undid the keys on the guards belt. Plucking the ring free of the corpse, they reached up and fumbled. More eyes began to peer curiously from the other cells. They watched as the hands tried key after key in the lock. Finally, with a turn, there was a clink of tumblers. Creaking ominously, the cell door swung open.
The one who emerged had a grim look to him. Eyes hooded with long brows, he was tall and of narrow build. A blood elf, his eyes aglow with a fierce and savage green light. His black hair was cropped short and matted with dirt. Clad in frayed brown rags, the keys dangled from the narrow fingers, he looked about the chamber carefully. Tossing the keys more thoroughly into his grasp, he reached down and snatched a dagger from the guard's belt. Armed, he crept down the corridor after the fire elemental, ignoring the sudden noise of the rest of the prisoners as they realized freedom intended to depart alone.
Post by
Atik
-
Falwood
The reek of fel magics filled the air. One area towards the north of Felwood was particularly barren, trees and grass absent, leaving only a thick black earth in their wake. A sheer cliff was indented with a massive cave, one that might very well go for miles below the earth.
From the darkness, a roar echoed. Massive booms echoed, liquid fel splashing out the mouth of the cave. And from the darkness, emerged a Dragon.
It was hardly an ordinary Dragon, it's scales Black with a brown underbelly, green veins visible in cracks between. Its claws and eyes glowed with felfire, and green lightning arced across it's massive wingspan. It's neck was long, several holes seeming to spill darkness from the bottom of its neck; three pairs spaced evenly apart.
Slowly, Servion's gaze drifted over his domain, ruins in the distance of the blackened ground glowed faintly with the movement of strange creatures halfway between Demon and Dragonkin. They were quick to vanish from sight as the Fel Dragon's gaze fell upon their home, eying it a moment.
"Lignite?" The beast roared in question, waiting for the girl.
-
Ashenvale
She moved slowly, eying the sight before her. A Night Elf and one of their... bird deer things. Were those edible? After all, she would need the food if she were to make it to the north.
Blue skin and horns were faintly visible among the shadowed form of the Draenei woman. Her hands gripped a strange crystal held under her arm, and her white eyes kept watch as she tried to remain among the trees.
Snap.
Freezing a moment, her gaze drifted to the broken stick beneath her hoof.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Name:
Daneera Halfmoon
Location:
Ashenvale
Daneera turned sharply about. Wide frightened eyes took in the forest around them, grown suddenly still. She staggered to her feet and pulled her way to the hippogryph's saddle. Fumbling fingers found an arrow from the quiver and loaded it into the bow. Some new menace? Was she followed? Fear made her heart quicken and blood thud in her air. She sighted along the arrow and scanned the forestry warily.
From where would the attack come?
Name:
Jack Weevilsprock
Location:
Azshera
Every goblin dreamed of the score.
It was the holy grail of finds. An island of ignorant natives who liked pretty beads and were sitting on a literal gold mine. A particularly rich and desperate idiot in need of a car. Or coming on a fat merchant ship with nothing more to defend it than a handful of desperate sailors.
Jack had often imagined what his big score would look like.
He hadn't expected the stench.
The tidal wave had washed up many things onto the beach. Things from depths where a sense of smell was the last thing evolution was concerned with. On the surface, the tracts of dark seaweed and less identifiable detritus filled the air with the choking scent of rot.
Yet there was a diamond in the rough. Spring stared at the many facets of the immense gemstone. It tickled some distant memory, but he couldn't quite grasp it. It was heavy at the top, tapering near the bottom. Its facets were rough and unevenly hewn, like it had been hacked from some larger fragment. It had a misty green colour to it that seemed to swim in the glaring sunlight, and now and then, an orange something could be seen if you looked at it just right. He had the strange feeling like it was watching him.
Jack tucked his fingers into his denim jacket and nodded firmly. "Load it into the cart," he instructed the smaller goblin with him.
"You sure boss?"
"Am I sure?" Jack tossed his head sending his golden earrings ringing. "Lissen here Spring. If I wasn't sure I wouldn't be runnin' this operation would I? Certainty's what makes a man in this world. Now quiet gawkin' 'nd load 'er up. Heh heh." Jack grinned his broken teeth and rubbed his hands greedily as his followers tied ropes to the stone and began to drag it from the filth of the beach and leavings of the cataclysmic wave. "We'll make a mint in Orgrimmar with this thing."
The stone shone and the misty green within seemed to glow.
Post by
Skreeran
Character: Rashahkk the Inexorable
Location: Orgrimmar
Rashahkk continued beating back the fire elementals, working with the thousands of other guards and militia divisions to corral the invading creatures into the less flamable quarters of the city. Shaman of myriad races, working under Thralls direction, were working to banish the elementals back to the firelands and soothe the fires that were already burning through the city.
Smoke filled the streets, and many were wearing clothen masks soaked in water to filter out the noxious black cloud. Rashahkk had little concern for it. A grin of malice stretched across his putrefied face and his eyes burned deathly blue as he savagely rent through the invaders, leaving rot and frost in his wake. He relished the battle, even against these weak foes. They were far more engaging than the legions of undead corpses he had grown used to fighting in Northrend.
Suddenly, he found himself awash in Kor'kron infantry. Before them, riding on a huge armored wolf, was the orc that Rashahkk recognized as General Agmar, who had presided over many battles on the Isle of Conquest. "Kor'kron, forward!" the General bellowed, after which the infantry obediently marched into the ranks of the burning enemy. Screams and battlecries rang out from the front line. Not one to be outdone, Rashahkk pushed forward, flanking around the infantry on his Deathcharger and pushing directly into the mass of living flame. His dark green skin was blackened with soot and char as he savagely tore into elemental left flank, breaking their ranks and allowing the Kor'kron to advanced and encircle them.
Hardly finished, though, Rashahkk promptly pulled his charger to the right and pushed deeper into the enemy ranks, giving little care to the damage his body was sustaining.
Character: Cynthia Hawthorne
Location: Westbrook Garrison
Description:
Cynthia is a human of average height and build, with light skin, dark brown hair and brown eyes. She is a non-commisioned officer in the Stormwind Guard, having enlisted from a Westfall recruitment center. Under most conditions, she wears the standard uniform of a Stormwind guard, but having learned to sew at home on her family farm, she is also known to wear colorful handmade clothes when she is off duty.
Cynthia woke to a massive earthquake and a tremorous roar. Leaping out of bed, she had dashed to the window just in time to see a massive dragon of black steel and molten iron impossibly flying south. She could scarcely believe her eyes, but the smoke coming from Stormwind proved that it was no illusion.
Throwing on her uniform, she dashed outside in time to see the garrison assembled outside, receiving orders from the garrison commander.
Pulling her helmet on, she held a leather case under her arm and walked quickly over to the stables, where her horse was waiting. She quickly saddled the beast up and climbed on top, carefully placing the case into her saddlebags.
Spurring her horse out of the gate, she rode for Stormwind, silently praying that the the casulties had been few.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Name:
Tickten Morrowcroft
Location:
Orgrimmar/Valley of Honour
Tickten kept well back from the fire elemental as it cut a swathe through the Arena's buildings. There were few guards in the actual building. The cells and being in the center of Orgrimmar saw to that, so it, and those like it, found little resistance. However resistance they did find, which meant Tickten met none.
Eventually he found his way through the winding passages and to the slave entrance. A heavy door barren with iron once blocked the way in. A surreptitious thing in the side of the building to help hide the delivery of gladiators to fight and die for the Horde's amusement. Everyone liked that part. But like eating sausage, fewer liked to see the process of misery that lead to it.
Tickten remebered the door well. Less so now, as it happened to be on fire, the massive wooden beams groaning and crackling, filling the room with smoke. Through holes burned in the door he could see fire elementals streaming down the street into battle with the living orcs of the Horde. Tickten glanced back at the door, then the hall. He shuffled his feet, nerved himself, and before he could second guess himself, pulled his ragged shirt over his head and hurled himself at the gate.
Blackened wood gave with a crash. In a hail of sparks Tickten catapaulted from the arena. He struck the ground, rolling several more feet, then staggered back to his feet. Behind him, with a groan of defeat, the rest of the door collapsed with a bang and rattle of red hot steel and ashen wood.
For a moment Tickten stood in the alleyway, dazed and swaying as embers cooled against his skin.
Name:
Barrett Blackhammer
Location:
Stormwind
Barrett cursed beneath his breath. The population of Stormwind had become too skilled at these sorts of emergencies. By the time they reached the canals which ringed the Cathedral district they were empty of fleeing people.. He and Lignite in their dark garb stood out like shadows against the orange glow of flaming buildings, notably the barracks but a few blocks away. Smoke and ash made the air heavy and the heat dried the skin to parchment roughness. Barrett licked his lips, glancing at several men standing on the bridge to shephard the last few people through the gates to the untouched district.
They'd have to chance it.
He glanced back at Lignite and nodded. The scarred girl schooled her expression, Together, hoping not to be spotted, they slipped along the canal and towards the docks.
Post by
Atik
Marcus Hopewell, Daios Farlight
Stormwind City
Marcus' gaze moved about the flaming city, looking for more survivors.
Then, against the red flames, he spotted movement. For a moment, he eyed the pair of dark shapes, turning his horse slowly.
Servion
Felwood
Silence.
Servion growled, dragging himself free from the cave, tail waving about like a mace, slamming into the stone walls. "Lignite!" He shouted again, eying his territory.
Nothing.
Slowly, the Feldragon spread his wings. With a mightly flap, he caused a huge gust of wind, green smoke flying outwards as he rose into the sky. Carefully, he eyed the ground, watching for the girl.
-
Ashenvale
With heavy breaths, the Draenei attempted to take a step back.
She nearly yelped as another branch broke below her hoof.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Name:
Barrett Blackhammer
Location:
Stormwind
Barrett saw the horseman turned. Grabbing Lignite's hand, he held it tightly as they made their way towards the bridge.
Name:
Daneera Halfmoon
Location:
Ashenvale
Daneera squeaked and pulled about, loosing wildly the arrow in the direction of the sound.
Post by
Atik
Marcus Hopewell, Daios Farlight
Stormwind City
"Sir Hopewell?" Daios questioned, hearing the hooves of his master's horse.
"Keep watch, boy." The man ordered, eyes narrowing as the two shadowy figures seemed to quicken. His boot tapped the horse's flank, and he too sped up.
-
Ashenvale
The Draenei let loose a shriek, the arrow slamming into a tree beside her. "Please don't kill me!" She cried in panic, falling to her knees.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Name:
Barrett Blackhammer
Location:
Stormwind
Hearing the approaching hooves Barrett glanced back.
Paladin.
Well, that was that.
Lignite swallowed a yelp as Barrett grabbed tight her hand and pulled her after him. His footsteps made barely a sound as he raced down the street and towards the arch which led to the docks.
Name:
Daneera Halfmoon
Location:
Ashenvale
Daneera scrambled for another arrow. She fumbled it into the bowstring as she stared wildly at the twilit forest.
"C-come out! Show yourself!" she shouted with as much authority as her shaking voice could muster.
Post by
Skreeran
Character: Rashahkk the Inexorable
Location: Orgrimmar
Rashahkk stood in the center of a ring of fallen elementals, as the few remaining in the quarter were mopped up. Blood from fallen Kor'kron infantry was unnaturally pooling at his feet, and he could feel his unlife growing stronger, his wounds mending. This is what it meant to be an unstoppable killing machine. No injury, no foe could stop him. It felt glorious. To be a death knight was to be death incarnate. If only his clansmen could see him now.
Suddenly, he heard something collapse behind him. Wary of more foes to slay, he turned and looked, trying to spot the source of the noise.
Character: Cynthia Hawthrone
Location: Goldshire
Cynthia continued riding up the road to Stormwind, where the road was passable. Now though, she found herself having to pull her horse off the path to let fleeing refugees through. The city must have really been hit hard. She hoped her commander was still alive. It would really complicate things if he had died.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Name:
Tickten Morrowcroft
Location:
Orgrimmar/Valley of Honour
Tickten gathered himself. He gave his head a violent shake and refocused on his surroundings. He was alone.
Except for the massive orc clad all in black saronite, whose eyes glowed blue with undeath. And the reason they stood alone was that said death knight was surrounded by dead elementals.
Tickten stared.
He looked at the dagger he had taken off the guard. Then he looked back at the orc.
The blood elf waved. "Evening," he said. "Bit hot out isn't it."
Post by
Atik
Marcus Hopewell, Daios Farlight
Stormwind City
Marcus slowed as the two hurried towards the archway, blinking. He tapped his horse, hurrying anew. They hoped to flee, he imagined.
Unfortunately for those who may have hoped to escape by sea, the park's destruction was not as smooth as a simple fall into the water. Flames spilled from the gash in the earth, stretching across the harbor, offering only tiny paths through the literal burning sea. Sailors and guards alike worked to clear the waters; dumping massive stone and dirt from the shore and onto the flames.
A shout seemed to call attention to a boat beyond the shore, flames licking at its sides. It drifted, seemingly unmanned as it flowed towards the fires.
-
Ashenvale
There was a long silence. Then blue skin shone in the dull light beyond the trees, multiple layers of practical clothing covering the Draenei's form. A massive pack was visible over her shoulders, and a large crystal was held below her arm. Black hair was pulled back into a bun, her horns sticking far out towards either side.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Name:
Barrett Blackhammer
Location:
Stormwind
The stairs to the harbour crawled down, looping around themselves. Barrett's footsteps clattered down them as he took them two at a time, Lignite frantically trying to keep pace.
The air suddenly grew hotter yet. Someone gave a shout and a scream went up from the dockworkers.
From over the wall they'd just passed, Deathwing soared. His passing raised a gale that lifted Barrett off his feet, carried him over the final few steps and sent him tumbling across the cobblestones. He recovered by virtue of his adrenalin and stood, but did not move from his spot. He could only stare as the massive bulk that was Deathwing soared away and towards the distant glow of the horizon, the fire of his form like a second sun receding into twilight, extinguished into night.
Name:
Daneera Halfmoon
Location:
Ashenvale
Daneera lowered her bow in amazement. "A draenei?"
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