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.
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.
The cold, comfortable embrace of death. I once thought you my most trusted companion, my ally, my art. How could you betray me so and let Sinil be reborn as this abomination!?
Jeseth idly runs his right hand over the hilt of his dagger, staring down at Ulduar’s intricately detailed and ornate walls as his mind races. In his left, clutched so strongly not even the Iron Dwarves could break his grasp, is an intricately carved portion of a staff. At first glance it appears to be nothing more than another discarded, broken weapon. Upon further inspection it is obviously elvish in origin, and as he gingerly wraps it in an aged cloth and tucks it into the folds of his clothing there can be no doubt it is not merely a part of the trail. Slowly he stands back up, content no one, or no thing, would spot him on this tower.
Without a trace of emotion Jeseth whispers into the wind, “I am sorry my love, I do not know whether to accept this apparent reincarnation of you or shun it for the memories I hold so dear…”
Abruptly the wind engulfed Jeseth with a force that felt so tangible, so strong, that it was quite a feat just struggling to stay on the ledge. With the same fierceness and determination that has kept him alive for so long, Jeseth held tightly to the ruins as the wind screamed, doing its best to tear him away and throw him into the abyss below.
Foolish elf… You will die here today.
Growing stronger and more violent, the wind almost breaks Jeseth’s grip. Growing stronger, pieces of dust and ice start cutting into his exposed skin, embedding themselves just below the surface.
Lady Death, the thought of your touch is comforting, and our relationship has been such a beautiful dance over the years. I cannot help but laugh at the memories of how clumsily we began our journey, though the art which it has become is certainly unrivaled. I am sorry my dearest companion, but I cannot come with you quite yet, for our work together in Azeroth is not yet complete.
You think you can withstand my will, rogue?
The cackling of maniacal laughter can be heard over the roar of the wind. Battered and bloody, Jeseth continues to hold on. His fingers are slowly losing their strength however, and his grip begins to weaken.
Insignificant fool. See how easily I wear you down?
Sinil… Degenerate… whatever you wish to be called my love, it matters not to me. I can still see part of who you used to be in your eyes. My memories betray me, for though I am appalled by the thought of what you have suffered, I am thrilled to have see you again. Strange, is it not, that in my life love would turn out to be the strongest emotion?
I grow tired of this game, let us end this.
With a bestial roar that no one would believe emanated from the lungs of an elf, Jeseth finally responds, “Come! Do your worst Arthas! Pathetic, cowardly dog! I will show you where true strength comes from!”
Straining, Jeseth pulls himself into a crouch. Risking being ripped away by the wind, he glances back to the west, judging the distance to the small entrance he spotted earlier.
Strength. You boast of strength when curled up like an infant? I expected more from you, rogue. You showed some promise.
With a movement so graceful it would stun any who caught a glimpse, Jeseth launched from his perch. Even through the torrential winds, his movements seemed like those of an aerialist, flipping and twisting in a near perfect arc toward his desired destination. Reaching, stretching as far as he possibly can, Jeseth’s fingertips brush the ledge.
It would appear I was wrong my dearest friend.
Jeseth closes his eyes, losing himself in memories both old and new of his love, his darling Sinil, as he waits for death’s embrace.
Previous Posts In 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)
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.
Syrana decided to go and tag me for an interview. Honestly, how could I refuse a request from such an entertaining lass? And then, to top that off, Aureilie goes and tags me too. I definitely can’t become absent-minded and not post when two wonderful people have gone and tagged me.
Apparently the rules are to answer the questions (in character), add a question, and tag others to repeat. Here we go:
- What is your name, and where did it come from?
I am called Byaghro, named so for the gracefulness I have been told I exhibit in my feline form. It is said that the Dreamer, Ysera, would affectionately call me such as my skills developed at a young age. - How old are you, and what is your birthday?
Quite young still by elven standards, though unfortunately we do not measure time in the same way you do. According to humans I would be… thirty-ish I believe. - Are you in love, and with whom?
Are we not always in a constant state of emotional turmoil? Love to one, hate to another… - What is your favorite mount, and why?
Unless absolutely necessary I prefer my travel forms over mounts. Much, much more comfortable. - Do you prefer a certian type of Azerothonian meal, and where do you get it from? Take out, or dine in?
The assorted fish of Northrend are quite tasty actually, and quite appealing even to my various tastes. - You know those giant mushrooms in Zangarmarsh? What is your theory on how they came to be, and why they are so huge?
You do realize the… larger inhabitants of that area do excrete quite a lot of matter, right? - If you saw the Lich King walking towards you, what would you do?
*scowling* Let us continue on to less vile topics. Suffice to say, Arthas will not be an issue much longer. - Be honest, how many times have you used the Grizzly Hills outhouse without any real reason?
*sigh* I despise that place. It was quite hilarious to be passing through and barricading a foul smelling orc in the contraption though. - Would you steal ice cream from a Human child?
And what would be the point? - (Byaghro’s addition) Why is it, do you think, that the Kirin Tor attempt to hide the fact that they are obviously addicted to substances?
I’m supposed to tag some people here… hrm… how about people who find it interesting self-tag themselves for this one? Leave a message in the comments if you do, and I’ll add the links to this post!
Direbrewfest
Argent Confessor
Kiss and Make Up (10 player)
Heroic: Trial of the Champion
