Prognosis strode confidently into the inn, turning and taking the ramp to the upper levels. There, in the middle of the room, lay Sangrias Stillblade’s limp body. There was no life left in him, and his skin was already pale and cold.
‘The Magister seems quite confident that this vial will resurrect Stillblade, but how can such magics exist and not be corrupt and vile? Are we not twisting the powers of the light by our inability to wield them naturally and thus bending them to our will?’
Prognosis kneels down, setting the vessel on Stillblade’s chest and whispering for guidance. Taking a deep breath, Prognosis opens the vial and closes her eyes. A flash of light radiates from the vessel with a force so strong that it almost knocks Prognosis over, and with a warmth so comforting that any thoughts of the magic within being corrupt are immediately banished from thought.
‘By all that is holy, how can the power of the light be so strong when the magisters that this magic was pulled from are so weak and lifeless?’
Only a few seconds passed, but to Prognosis it felt like years. So many unanswered questions now consumed her thoughts, and yet a confidence previously unknown filled every fiber of her being.
“I must speak to Bloodvalor about my duties. Death is not an experience I want to relive, and I am certain it is not an experience that could grow more pleasant with time,” grumbles Stillblade, the color having returned to his skin. “I will admit, I thought I had you at first. You are the first to beat me, Prognosis, I will be quite interested in hearing of your progress within the ranks of the Order.”
Not waiting for a reply, Stillblade walks down the ramp and out of the inn and leaves Prognosis kneeling on the floor, her head still reeling.
‘To what end will this path take me? I know very few of our people have been able to wield the powers of the light proficiently… a fact that is evident by the dwindling numbers of the Blood Knight Order. Never before have I felt such power, such pure and righteous power, as was unleashed mere moments ago. Could this be our race’s path to redeeming ourselves for the many years we were misled under Kael’thas Sunstrider’s rule?’
Prognosis slowly rises to her feet. An unfamiliar power flows within, a power that not only conveys warmth and confidence but also a sense of protection and retribution.
‘I have made the right choice. Whether this path leads me to destruction or salvation is yet to be seen, but there can be no denying the true, pure power the light conveys upon those who walk the path of the holy.’
Prognosis emerges from the inn and turns toward the Blood KNight Headquarters. No longer driven by a strange paranoia, or a fear of being attacked at random, she strides toward Farstrider’s Square calmly and confidently.
‘Bloodvalor, you have some explaining to do.’
DISCLAIMER: The events in this story are based upon actual elements of the World of Warcraft game, although I am taking liberties wherever I decide to make the events fit the story I am crafting.
- Table of Contents:
- Installment One – (RP) Blood Knight
- Installment Two – (RP) Blood Knight: Acceptance
- Installment Three – (RP) Blood Knight: Redemption
‘Knight-Lord Bloodvalor certainly has some explanation, yet I cannot fathom why I would be perceived as enough of a threat to have me eliminated. What good can come of destroying those whose aspirations are to strengthen the order.’
As the dragonhawk lands outside Silvermoon, Prognosis inhales deeply.
‘May the Light grant me strength.’
Prognosis calmly walks through the gates to the city, striding purposefully and proudly toward the back of the city. Uncertain as to whether another attack may be forthcoming, she cautiously makes her way back to Blood Knight Headquarters.
Knight-Lord Bloodvalor watches Prognosis enter, his face an emotionless mask. Before Prognosis has a chance to speak he holds up his hand briefly, and begins his explanation:
“Do not think me unduly harsh, Prognosis. Stillblade knew well what he was being sent to do. He understood and accepted his duty, and is an example for all aspiring Blood Knights.”
“Make no mistake, my words are no eulogy. Stillblade’s service to us is far from over, and you will be the instrument of his resurrection.”
“Your education in the order’s ways has just begun. With the betrayal of Kael’thas and the loss of our power source, you must learn new methods of wielding the Light. Seek out Magister Astalor Bloodsworn.”
As he finishes the last statement, Knight-Lord Bloodvalor turns to a young newcomer interested in joining the order. Prognosis turns, her mind flooded with curiosity at the mention of learning how to resurrect the fallen.
‘So this was nothing more than a test, albeit a potentially fatal one. Would I have been resurrected had I failed?’
Prognosis turns and moves up the ramp, seeking out Magister Bloodsworn.
‘I must remember that, at least until I am accepted completely into the order, there is no safety even among the ranks of the Blood Knights.’
DISCLAIMER: The events in this story are based upon actual elements of the World of Warcraft game, although I am taking liberties wherever I decide to make the events fit the story I am crafting.
- Table of Contents:
- Installment One – (RP) Blood Knight
- Installment Two – (RP) Blood Knight: Acceptance
- Installment Three – (RP) Blood Knight: Redemption
Darkness envelops Prognosis as she moves into the cave, causing an almost electrical sensation to course through her body. Undaunted, however, she continues steadily onward in search of the brazier Knight-Lord Bloodvalor described, eager to undertake The First Trial and prove her capabilities, subsequently becoming inducted to the order.
Breathing deeply, Prognosis peers into the darkness. The faint outline of a steel ring is discernible just ahead. She moves closer and kneels before the brazier, calling upon the energies of the light to create a small flame. As the fire grows Prognosis peers closer, focusing on the flame as Knight-Lord Bloodvalor instructed.
‘Something feels wrong,’ Prognosis thinks as she peers into the flames.
The slight glint from a blade warns her of danger a mere second before the blade is thrust straight forward, nicking Prognosis’ throat as she rolls out of the way and leaps to her feet.
“Perhaps you aren’t as worthless as it appeared you were about to be,” states her attacker as he lunges forward again, the blade of his polearm aimed straight at Prognosis’ exposed neck.
Her sword suddenly in hand, Prognosis manages to parry the attack, twisting her wrist at the last moment and turning in closer to her opponent. Her words barely audible, Prognosis channels her meager control of the light in an effort to weaken her obviously surprised attacker and inflict enough damage to pause his attacks.
Laughing, her opponent reveals his identity as a member of the Order when he starts to call upon the powers of the light to heal his wounds. Realizing this may be her only opening, Prognosis thrusts her sword forward, the blade sinking deeply into her opponent’s exposed side.
Staring at her in disbelief the Blood Knight drops his weapon, and then sinks to the ground.
“I take no pride in killing a fellow paladin. May the Light watch over you in death.”
Gathering her belongings, Prognosis turns back to the entrance of the cave. As she reaches the entrance she glances back at the lifeless body of her opponent, and an onslaught of thoughts rush through her head.
‘One thing is certain, the journey back to Silvermoon should give me time to reflect on the events of this day. It is quite obvious this task was designed to be my end.’
DISCLAIMER: The events in this story are based upon actual elements of the World of Warcraft game, although I am taking liberties wherever I decide to make the events fit the story I am crafting.
- Table of Contents:
- Installment One – (RP) Blood Knight
- Installment Two – (RP) Blood Knight: Acceptance
- Installment Three – (RP) Blood Knight: Redemption
Byaghro, standing off to the side of the Champion’s Ring, watches the competitors intensely fighting until their opponents can no longer stand. Not even the fresh snows of Icecrown can cleanse the blood from the field where hundreds of competitors have had to be carried away.
“Ye be competing today lass?” asks a fellow crusader, an old grizzled dwarf by the name of Arv.
“Nay. The competition no longer holds a challenge. Of course, you know this as well as I,” responds Byaghro, “although I hear the coliseum is nearing completion and will present us with some new challenges soon enough.”
“Aye, them Argent fellas are tryin’ to keep it quiet. Methinks there be somethin’ they’re ‘fraid of involvin’ the place.” Arv pauses a moment before adding, in a hushed tone, “Ye know the Silver Covenant to be involved here…”
Byaghro nods, her eyes never straying from the field before them, “Aye.”
“Well, word is they be plannin’ to use the coliseum to test the crusaders and see who be fit to lead the assault on Icecrown Citadel.”
Finally breaking her gaze away from the field to look at Arv, Byaghro sighs, “For a self-proclaimed scholar you sure have a knack of making the information we all have heard to sound like such a secret.” She laughs, and starts to walk toward the stables, “Come Arv, let us see if you have improved enough to best me today!”
Arv grumbles as he follows Byaghro, “Lass, were I able to beat ya I woulda by now, but I can still make ya work hard for it!”
Disclaimer: Although this story and the subsequent chapters are based on events in-game, they are meant to be completely separate and will, almost certainly, contain completely fictitious pieces of information as well.
If you are just joining us please start with CREATE YOUR OWN AZEROTH: PRELUDE from Hardcore Casual.
This segment is a continuation from Create Your Own Azeroth: The Southern Gate. over at Circumspect Snug.
Corrigan lets out a low sigh, heard only by Rondrey. Without another moment’s hesitation he looks at the possessed citizens moving toward them with emotionless eyes and issues the command none wanted to hear: “Men, attack!”
I have failed yet again… not only could I not protect the woman I loved, but I cannot even protect a handful of citizens from death, and by my own hand no less! Sylphine, have mercy on me.
“Commander…” Rondrey’s voice trails off as Corrigan brushes him aside, launching his hammer into the mass of banshees moving toward them.
“It is too late old friend, hesitation will surely get us killed,” Corrigan states, his voice lifeless. The remaining stupor from the rum washed away by the realization that those he was supposed to protect were dying by his own order.
Laughter emanates from the treeline as the Necromancer reappears. The clanging of metal and the screams of men, women, and even children dying in the scuffle with the banshees failing to drown him out. Blood flows freely around the remaining soldiers under Corrigan’s command as Rondrey focuses his undivided attention to the handful of citizens left.
“Feel the despair and fear coursing through your very souls,” the Necromancer taunts, his icy glare fixated on Corrigan. “See the futility in fighting my forces now foolish paladin?” He laughs as legions of ghouls, skeletons, and abominations appear through the trees, surrounding the small band of people that remain.
With a roar that seems more bestial than dwarven, Rondrey suddenly breaks into a charge toward the Necromancer, “Filthy, stinkin’, no-good scourge!” Rondrey’s charge catches everyone by surprise, bolstering the spirits of the men and inciting a rage and determination that shines through as they cut down every miserable, vile creature in their path. Limbs fly as the stench of ghoulish blood fills the air. The men seem invincible, parrying or avoiding every incoming attack and responding with unprecedented accuracy in dealing certain death to their foes.
What seems an eternity passes before their charge is slowed, a wall of dead scourge practically surrounding them. Regaining his senses Rondrey turns to look at Corrigan, still standing motionless where he was when Rondrey’s charge caught them all by surprise. A feeling of loss sweeps through every shred of his being as he realizes the reason for Corrigan’s lack of movement, and the small blade protruding from underneath the plate armor on his chest. Corrigan’s body finally falls to its knees, staying there as though locked in prayer as Rondrey looks away with a tear falling down his cheek.
“Yer gonna pay dearly for that,” Rondrey growls at the Necromancer.
A deep, gravelly voice booms from all around them as the Necromancer laughs. Arthas’ image appears before the men, practically draining their strength and replacing it with fear. The image speaks, its gaze locked firmly on Rondrey, “You will wish for a quick death soon enough, priest.”
Rondrey starts to issue a challenge, but is shocked into silence as he hears a sudden cold, soulless laugh from behind. Rondrey whirls around, and in the brief moment it took to realize what he was seeing he lost all hope. They were surrounded still, and although they fought well there was no way they would be able to defeat this newcomer…
The men gasped, and weapons clattered to the ground as fear sucked every ounce of strength left from them. They watched, hopelessly, as Corrigan slowly stood up from the ground where he fell. Corrigan’s skin was now pale, his lips lifeless, and his eyes burning bright with the stare of the undead.
Corrigan laughed menacingly as he looked to Arthas’ visage, “What is your command, Master?”
Arthas’ voice boomed around them once more, “Kill them, and bring the priest to me. This is your test, Death Knight. Succeed, and you will have earned your place among my ranks.”
Arthas’ visage disappears as the sky suddenly darkens. Rondrey falls to his knees, and utters a final prayer to the Light for mercy on Corrigan’s soul.
Corrigan advances, slaughtering the remaining soldiers and citizens as he makes his way to Rondrey’s still kneeling form. Corrigan raises his hand toward Rondrey, unleashing an assault of icy energy point-blank into the priest. Rondrey is knocked back, but with a grim determination he finishes uttering the last of an incantation he began moments before. Surges of holy energy fill Rondrey’s body as he stands, and in a final moment of desperation he unleashes e wave of light so powerful it incinerates him in the process.
As the dust settles the Necromancer surveys the field before him. Not a single man, woman, or child remains breathing, though any of his scourge minions that were within ten yards of that priest’s range were vaporized as well. He looks over to where Corrigan stands, and begins a wild cackling that could barely be described as laughter.
Corrigan looks up at the Necromancer, not a single trace of emotion even beginning to soften the edge in his voice, “A futile gesture, foolish priest,” he whispers. Corrigan turns and starts the trek to Icecrown Citadel, pausing momentarily to look the Necromancer straight in the eyes, “Gather your minions, you report to me now.”
The End
I hope you liked the story! If this seems like something you want to see again or to get involved with please let us know over on the CYOA Message Board.
If you are just joining us please start with CREATE YOUR OWN AZEROTH: PRELUDE from Hardcore Casual.
Grabbing his Hammer, Corrigan turns to exit the tent. He pauses, and kneels briefly at the door.
May the Light bring us strength on this day.
Corrigan rushes out of the tent, and charges to the front lines. As he runs murmurs of surprise spread throughout the lines. Merely having Corrigan’s presence among them seems to bolster the soldiers’ spirits. As Corrigan reaches the front gate and realizes just how close the walls are to crumbling he stops and turns to the men and women under his command.
“On this day we will deliver a message to our enemies. On this day we will show them the strength of Azeroth’s people. We will stand and fight the corrupt, the vile, the Scourge. Cleanse the fear from your hearts! Stand with me, and let us show Arthas’ minions that we shall not falter!”
How can we withstand such an onslaught? There is no doubt that many will die here today.
Corrigan shakes the last of the cobwebs from his mind as the gates fall. Wave after wave of disgusting Scourge soldiers collide with the polished armor of Corrigan’s troops. Blood flows freely, staining the ground in a matter of moments. Cries of strength and honor are cut short, twisting into barely audible gurgles as windpipes are smashed or torn.
“For the Light!” Corrigan yells as he rushes into the fray, his hammer felling three and four Scourge at a time. “Stand fast! Drive these vile creatures back through the gate!”
As the battle rages it becomes clear the Alliance forces are horribly outnumbered. Without some miracle Corrigan and his troops will be fatefully overrun soon. Rondrey makes his way to Corrigan’s side, assuring him the last of the civilians have been evacuated, or are at least as safe as possible with the remaining soldiers.
Breathing heavily, Corrigan turns to Rondrey during a brief lull in the attack, “Old friend, we cannot keep them at bay much longer. Take the remaining soldiers and retreat, I’ll do what I can to buy you enough time to get away. With the entire regiment you should be able to make it through any remaining ambushes blocking your path”
“There be no way to make it outta here alive without help,” Rondrey protests, “I’ll not leave ye alone!”
Maybe this is the price I have to pay for not being able to protect Sylphine… death would almost be a warm welcome, a change from the persistent nightmare I have been plagued to live.
“There’s no time for debate, Rondrey,” Corrigan whispers, “I cannot lead them to certain death!”
Rondrey pauses, accepting that there is but one way to sway Corrigan’s decision, “Sacrificing yerself won’t change the past. Ye can save these people, Corrigan, and I’ll be damned if yer goin’ to give up so easily!”
A fresh wave of abominations and geists fills the courtyard as Corrigan hefts his hammer, the Light feeding him the strength to fight fiercely. Rondrey hefts his small mace and sends bolt after bolt of holy energy into the fray, healing those in need and burning the remaining flesh of the Scourge invaders.
Rage swells inside Corrigan as he crushes the bones of his enemies. Just as the battle appears to be turning in the favor of the Alliance forces the attackers pull back, making room for something coming forward from the back of their ranks. Corrigan’s eyes follow the hooded figure as it steps forward and becomes plainly visible.
Rondrey curses and Corrigan’s rage merely explodes as the hood falls, revealing the icy pale skin of a death knight. Corrigan feels Rondrey grab his arm and hold fast as he whispers, “Steady lad, ye cannot simply rush in against the creature and abandon our defenses!”
You control Corrigan’s fate!
If you choose to attack the death knight immediately Corrigan will charge, leading the rest of his men into a last ditch assault against their attackers. For this option go to Creeping… (Update, continuation link is here)
If you choose to hold the lines steady Corrigan will listen to Rondrey, hoping to outlast the assault and gain victory. For this option go to Hardcore Casual (Update, continuation link is here)
The story will continue on those blogs next Wednesday, April 22nd.
Blood. The field, normally a pure white from the snow, was practically painted red. The remains of villagers were strewn everywhere, not a single man, woman, or child left whole. Although they attempted to fight off the attack, only a couple of scourge bodies were interspersed throughout the carnage.
Kneeling over the dismembered remains of an elder, obviously the former leader of these people, Jeseth felt a wave of emotion akin to a red-hot dagger through her heart. She looked up at Byaghro, an all-consuming fiery rage evident in her eyes.
“These were my people,” she growled, “I was raised by them for a short time after my birth, before I embarked upon the journey that led me to the assassins. They were nomads, living as one with the land around them before moving on to new sources of food.”
Byaghro nodded, her face betraying no sign of her emotions, “It would appear Arthas knows more about us than we would prefer.”
Jeseth slid her hand over the elder’s eyes, closing them gently as she whispered, “Peace to you my friend.”
Laughter emanated from the woodline, causing both to spring into defensive crouches. They stood at an angle to each other, each facing the general direction of the laughter’s source.
A single being emerged, shadowy energy swirling around him much like the priests of the dark. This was obviously no priest, however, nor even apparently mortal. He glided over the field in their direction; his laughter sending chills through them both.
“Aelara… wait… it is Jeseth now is it not?” he laughed again, seemingly even a colder, more vile sound than before, “I am disappointed. It took so long for you to arrive that I had to carve up the bodies to keep myself entertained.”
Byaghro shifted slightly, barely even apparent to Jeseth’s trained eyes, “Might we have the pleasure of learning who you are before your existence ends?”
He cackled, “Byaghro, surely you recognize me? After all, it was you who sent me to hell, though I suppose you thought me dead at the time. Had it not been for an overzealous warlock that might even have become true.”
Jeseth’s hands lay lightly on the hilts of her daggers as she listened, watching for any opening to launch her attack. Again she noticed Byaghro shift slightly, and wondered what the druid was planning.
“Perhaps this form does not fit the memory you have of my previous life.” He chuckled, and morphed into the form of a young blood elf. “This should remind you of what I once was.”
Byaghro gasps, for the first time a hint of anger evident in her voice, “You will not be so fortunate this time.”
“Foolish druid, it took five of you to banish me from this realm originally. Do you really think you stand a chance now?”
Without warning a blast of pure energy struck Byaghro, knocking her into the trees behind them. Laughter erupted from the blood elf’s lungs as he looked at Jeseth.
“What hope do you have, little one? Not even the mighty druid could withstand even a hint of my power!”
He glanced back to the trees, preparing to unleash another bolt in Byaghro’s direction, but she was not there.
He chuckled, “Run away little night elf, prove to the world how cowardly your kind truly is!”
Jeseth flicked a throwing knife at the blood elf, hoping to cause a distraction as she launched herself into an attack, daggers drawn. Suddenly she found herself lying face down and crumpled against a tree. The stench of scorched leather filled her nostrils as she slowly pulled herself up, just in time to see a sleek, muscular feline latch firmly onto the back of their opponent. The cat sank its teeth into his shoulder, ripping and tearing away flesh and crunching bone.
The blood elf morphed back into his hellish form, unleashing a blast of shadowy energy at the same time and knocking the cat backward a few feet. Without missing a beat the cat shifted into Byaghro’s natural form, and unleashed the fury of nature’s wrath against the fiend.
Seizing her opening, Jeseth sprang into the fray. This time her daggers found their mark, burying themselves to the hilt in the fiend’s side. He gasped, and Byaghro seized another opening to rip the tendons from his legs.
As suddenly as it started the fight was over, the fiend gone.
Panting, Jeseth turned to Byaghro, “Well done.”
“He will be back I am afraid,” she turned to face Jeseth, “And it appears we have some common enemies in our past. That fiend used to be a mage, and one whose love for people actually caused the Cenarion Circle to allow his visit from time to time. He betrayed our trust, attempting to absorb the powers of nature and enhance his own magic. At any rate, when he returns he will not underestimate our abilities again. We must move on.”
“He was not a demon…” Jeseth points to a piece of flesh on the ground, “That is part of a dragon’s wing.”
This Series:
- Jeseth’s Introduction, Truth Eternal
- Byaghro’s Introduction, Guardians of Cenarius
- Degenerate’s Introduction, The Ebon Blade
- Convergences (Part One)
- Destruction (Part Two)
- Discoveries (Part Three)
- Loss & Repentance (Part Four)
- Downfalls (Part Five)
- From the Ashes (Part Six)
DISCLAIMER: The events I have been chronicling are not a part of lore, based on any actual story, or even bearing any resemblance to any events in game. I am writing these purely for my enjoyment, and enjoying the story that I am creating based upon the Warcraft Universe.
From The Ashes (Part Six)
“Jeseth was more than simply a man of considerable respect within our ranks. Although unknown to anyone outside our guild, he was also the one who established our alliance, and led us to form the entity that is now spoken of in the darkest of circles… the Merciless Blades. I was his sole pupil, and, until recently, I was known as Aelara.”
Tyrande listens intently. She had known that Jeseth had many secrets, but she had not expected any further assistance from any of the assassins. “What brings you to me now, and why should I not have my Sentinels merely end your wretched existence in these lands?”
Laughing, Aelara responds, “My dear, none save yourself could pose me any threat, and even your attempt would be futile.”
Sinil growls, “I am certain my attempt would be quite successful.”
“Perhaps. I would accept the challenge any other time, but there are much more pressing concerns at hand.”
Byaghro finally steps forward, “Rogue, you mentioned you were known as ‘Aelara’ until recently, why not start there?”
She nods, “Jeseth is the name assumed by the leader of the assassins, and it must persevere. There have been two others before me, and it is now my fate to assume the role and continue the legacy set forth. I am afraid I cannot provide more details without risking the guild, but rest assured our loyalty lies within the decisions Jeseth made, the groundwork he began that I now continue, and the battle before us all.”
“This is interesting news indeed,” says Tyrande. “I had thought Jeseth was acting independently, though he also kept from me his stature among your people.”
“In many ways he was, for it was his undying loyalty to you that led him upon his most recent endeavor and subsequent downfall. Although he issued no such decree, we will not let his death go unanswered. Hold no illusions that my loyalties are the same as his, but I will honor any word I give.”
“That is all any of us can expect of ourselves, much less another,” states Byaghro, “Come, Alexstrasza is waiting.”
Aelara… Jeseth… two others before her? What was his real name then? What other facets of our previous life together were hidden from me?
Sinil takes a deep breath, trying to clear her head of the thoughts.
Whatever the details, it is obvious the love we had was pure… real. I must take comfort in that fact, and use that strength to see this through. I hope to see you again when this is over my love, for this world grows colder without your presence.
How touching. Though this is an interesting turn of events. Even I did not know how important that pathetic bug was to those assassins.
Sinil pauses, and attempts to block her thoughts from Arthas once more.
Have you not realized that your resistance, your wishes, are irrelevant? You will return to me Sinil… soon.
The rogue is a curious one. Our destinies are more entwined than I would have thought possible.
As they reach Alexstrasza she turns to Byaghro, “I know you understand what I am about to ask.”
“You need not even utter the words, we will tend to the matter at once,” she turns to Jeseth, “Do you trust me?”
“I am afraid I trust no one, an unfortunate effect of my work. I will, however, place my faith in the thought that your intentions are honorable,” replies Jeseth.
“Then we depart.” She turns back to Alexstrasza and nods, and suddenly, with only the slightest movement by Alexstrasza, the two disappear.
Alextrasza turns to address Tyrande, Sinil, and the other leaders before her, “Now we wait, and prepare for war.”
This Series:
- Jeseth’s Introduction, Truth Eternal
- Byaghro’s Introduction, Guardians of Cenarius
- Degenerate’s Introduction, The Ebon Blade
- Convergences (Part One)
- Destruction (Part Two)
- Discoveries (Part Three)
- Loss & Repentance (Part Four)
- Downfalls (Part Five)
DISCLAIMER: The events I have been chronicling are not a part of lore, based on any actual story, or even bearing any resemblance to any events in game. I am writing these purely for my enjoyment, and enjoying the story that I am creating based upon the Warcraft Universe.
“I do not know who… what I am anymore. I label myself ‘Degenerate’ because I cannot bear the thought that, somehow, continuing as ‘Sinil’ may condemn all that I held so dearly in my former life.”
Tyrande sits down, resting a hand on her former pupil’s arm, “Fear not this reincarnation of yourself child. Although no longer a direct instrument of Elune, it is obvious you still have her blessing.”
“How can you be so sure? Look at me… I am death. I am the embodiment of that which we have fought for ages, a hollow shell of a woman who once lived, reanimated and cursed with the knowledge that this body is nothing more than a prison for my soul.”
Kill
“Often what we see in ourselves is not what we truly are, but what we have decided we should be. Come with me, I want to show you something,” Tyrande states as she rises.
As she rises to follow Tyrande suddenly turns, hurling a bolt of light at Degenerate. Bracing herself, Degenerate stands solemnly, waiting for the excruciating pain and certain death that would come. She had seen this before with the undead… channeling the pure energy of Elune at one was perhaps the easiest way for a priestess to defend herself from them.
Kill
Nothing.
“You see child, you are not completely undead,” Tyrande whispers, once again turning toward her original destination and motioning for Degenerate to follow.
Stunned, and even more uncertain than before, Degenerate breathes again.
Kill
Arthas, it is time for you to leave my head. You will not regain your power over me, and soon enough I will embark upon my crusade to crush your pathetic, miserable life.
Foolish girl. You have yet to break free of my will!
Wrong Arthas, I have only allowed you to maintain this connection so that you may see that Azeroth will not fold to your desires, to your whims. In some ways we should, perhaps, be thankful. After all, you have provided a means for the people of our lands to set aside their differences and work together, to come for you, and to bring you to justice.
You think yourself clever? Let me show you something…
Degenerate’s head is suddenly filled with an image of… of Ulduar it would appear. Jeseth is there, his voice barely heard upon the roar of the wind, and yet perfectly clear in her mind… “Come! Do your worst Arthas! Pathetic, cowardly dog! I will show you where true strength comes from!” She watches as he leaps into the wind, ever so gracefully. He extends is body as much as possible, and reaches for a ledge.
“NO!” Degenerate screams, falling to her knees and startling Tyrande, who rushes to her side.
You see what happens when my will is opposed?
Sobbing, gasping for breath, Degenerate manages “Jeseth…”
Tyrande immediately understands, and begins an incantation. After a moment she stops, midstream, and her eyes open wide. “How…?” she whispers, her voice trailing off before even the next word could be uttered.
With unbridled ferocity Degenerate hisses, “I will destroy you Arthas. I will tear you apart and crush every piece of your pitiful, worthless body underfoot…” After a moment she regains her composure, and turns to Tyrande, “His death will not be in vain. My love for him reminds me of who I am, of what I was and what I can become… I will go speak with Mograine, and regroup with the others Byaghro is searching out.”
Tyrande nods, “Take comfort child, for Jeseth’s soul is free.”
Sinil. That is who I am, who I was. For Jeseth I will reclaim myself, and avenge his death. I am Degenerate no more…
Byaghro kneels before Ysera’s slumbering form.
“I cannot come to your aid yet, for I am needed here much too urgently in the wake of recent events. Thank you for your guidance Ysera, I can only hope Malfurion will be able to hold out until this battle is over, and we can rush to your aid.”
Rising, she leaps into the air and shifts into the form of a raven, flying swiftly to meet with the rest of the druids now convened.
I only hope Ysera was right when she convinced me this course was the only remaining option… and that Alexstraza does not feel betrayed when she learns of our part in Ysera’s plan.
Byaghro clears her head as she lands, stepping onto a small hillock be seen by all.
“My dear friends, my family, thank you all for coming.”
Hundreds upon hundreds of druids stand calmly together, waiting to hear Byaghro’s report. For this battle none would have their decision made for them. Each would have to make a choice, and follow that path until it has run its course. This time there are no rulers, no allegiances to any but each other.
“As you all know we are facing a growing threat, both here and in the Emerald Dream. Ysera, the Dreamer, has fallen victim to the Nightmare. Malfurion is already at work there, along with all of our brothers and sisters who still slumber, trying to find a way to save our beloved friend. We all know she chose this path to discover the truth behind the Nightmare, and we will see that plan to its completion no matter the cost.”
Byaghro pauses as she scans the faces before her.
“I come before you now, however, to relay some circumstances we were not aware of. Loken has apparently taken control of Ulduar, and though we know not of his plans we know enough to warrant it a huge threat to all of our people. Even the Aspects are concerned, and are planning to intervene. Combined with the threat we face from Arthas, I fear this is the beginning of a very dark time for all of Azeroth.”
As Byaghro relays her message the concern and fear that can be seen across the faces of all gathered quickly gives way to determination. Druids, no matter their background or differences, hold an unwavering allegiance to each other.
“The plan is to meet at the Wyrmrest Temple in a week’s time, and from there those who elect to go will begin our march on Icecrown. This path will end in destruction, hold no illusion otherwise, for either we will meet our downfall or Arthas will meet his.”
The Guardians of Cenarius have chosen. The fury of nature herself will descend upon Icecrown Citadel.
This Series:
- Jeseth’s Introduction, Truth Eternal
- Byaghro’s Introduction, Guardians of Cenarius
- Degenerate’s Introduction, The Ebon Blade
- Convergences (Part One)
- Destruction (Part Two)
- Discoveries (Part Three)
- Loss & Repentance (Part Four)
DISCLAIMER: The events I have been chronicling are not a part of lore, based on any actual story, or even bearing any resemblance to any events in game. I am writing these purely for my enjoyment, and enjoying the story that I am creating based upon the Warcraft Universe.
I just realized (I know, shame on me) that with my most recent story I did not, as I usually do, provide links for the entire story-line. I have since gone back and added that section, but just to keep things easily found I’m including the (current) list here as well:
This Series:
- Jeseth’s Introduction, Truth Eternal
- Byaghro’s Introduction, Guardians of Cenarius
- Degenerate’s Introduction, The Ebon Blade
- Convergences (Part One)
- Destruction (Part Two)
- Discoveries (Part Three)
- Loss & Repentance (Part Four)
DISCLAIMER: The events I have been chronicling are not a part of lore, based on any actual story, or even bearing any resemblance to any events in game. I am writing these purely for my enjoyment, and enjoying the story that I am creating based upon the Warcraft Universe.
Direbrewfest
Argent Confessor
Kiss and Make Up (10 player)
Heroic: Trial of the Champion
