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Post by Sorcha'Rei on Jan 27, 2006 9:55:46 GMT -5
((Wow. Just . . . wow.))
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Post by Emizael on Jan 28, 2006 15:14:11 GMT -5
28th day, January--Gold Lion Inn, Stormwind
I think, I sit, I drink. Common activity, really. Many do it. Busy place this, quite a few people here.
Wide eyed young humans, many fresh from academy or training halls, eager to see the big world, find thier place in it.
Surprising number of Elves, Dwarfs, Gnomes.
Here, like..nowhere else I have ever been, mix many folk. Adventurer, commoner, Veteran and green soldier.
Some come to drink. Some to relax. Some come for the Black Market.
Not too well known, this.
Chant says, if you really want something bad enough, The Man to see, is Perelli.
This guy, human. Fronts himself as a travelling salesman, hawking wares from Darkshire, to Sentinal Hill, back all the way to Goldshire. With the right words, and the right know...can deal in anything from flesh, to poisons, to costly enchanted items. If Perelli don't have it..he knows who does.
Came to see this berk, Perelli. Made a threat, he did.
...acquaintence of mine...owes money. Perelli says, pay up, or..something bad happens. This, I do not want.
Problem is, unlike some folks, I can't just make Perelli dissapear. Connected, he is. Very well Connected.
Official word says, Perelli, don't touch him.
I set up a meeting.
I'll pay the money..owed to Perelli, by my ...acquaintence. Make sure Perelli knows who paid the bill. Then, off to Lakeshire for a meeting with my ...acquaintence.
I do not like getting involved in things like this.
Learned a long time ago, that hero, I am not. Not really. More suited to ..working behind the scenes. Doing the things the Heroes can't be seen doing, serving my Nations, my people, my friends, and doing the dirty things that you don't get medals for.
Not about the glory, anyways.
What it is about, really, is making the world a better place for everyone, even my enemies.
Thing is..very few folks can make the hard choice. Its an artform, to be sure. Have to trust that you are doing the right thing, when you take a job like mine. Sometimes, it doesn't seem to right.
Like, murdering a high ranking Orc that never did me any wrong, and leaving scum like Perelli walking around.
Then, I realize, someone else has Perelli's ticket. He's not my job. My job is to do other things, like, find out why my ...Acquaintence..is borrowing large sums of money, and trading extensively with the Black Market to begin with.
Lets chant about this, shall we? Lets call this person... Z. Yeah. Z. So, anyways...known Z. for some time. Good person, so I think. My opinion, really. Does charity work in Stormwind. Takes care of little kids, orphans of the war, that sort of thing. Think I respect Z. for that kind of work.
I find out some things. Z. is working a lot of long hours, lately. Owes money, like I said, and is doing a lot of shady business with the black market. Instead of going straight to the source, I start investigating. Tavernspeak. Most reliable source of rumormongering ever. Place to start. Hear a rumor. Do not like this, at all.
Chant says...some kids have gone missing. Local Law is having a field day. Nobody likes it when little ones are missing. Lots of folks involved. Stormwind Army, has folks looking into this.
Chant says...missing kids, from Z's orphanage. Chant says, Z. might be involved in the dissapearances. During interviews, Z. can't account for some things, like, where Z. was when kids went missing.
First response, here, anger. Maybe Z. is not the person I thought.
This could be worse then I imagine...
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Post by Kalmorith on Jan 30, 2006 20:15:28 GMT -5
Emizael, this seems to be taking quite a turn for the worse. Though I am hesitant (and cringe at the thought) I do wish to hear more...
This "Z"...I wonder who he is. Missing children? Good Elune, this is not good. Go on.
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Post by Emizael on Feb 1, 2006 11:01:51 GMT -5
30th day, January--Lakeshire, Redridge mts.
Raining. Again. Should be. Puddles all across the paved road, rippling and splashing as I pass, the paws of my Frostsaber mount splintering the grey reflections like a million lost possibilities.
Long treck, to meet Z.
Z's hiding...Stormwind Law, Agents, all manner of folk looking for Z. I want to be the one to find her.
Contacts arranged the meeting.
Lakeshire, like most towns nowadays, short of presense of local law enforcement. Most are wrapped up in matters of civil defense, can't really get involved in what just about everyone considers Stormwind's problems.
Problem is...if matters get much worse, Lakeshire has no trouble commissioning local adventurers and passerby to 'deal with things.'
Things being as they are right now, I do not want anyone else sticking thier noses in. Like Kalmorith says, " One untrained cook is bad enough, but ten untrained cooks kill the mood entirely!" Or something like that.
I ride up the long hill into Lakeshire, my thoughts dark as the clouds above me. Already miserable, anyways. Soaked, too. Armor will probably rust off me. Serves me right, but, a friend is a friend, yeah?
I stable the big cat, taking a moment to unsaddle him. brush him down a bit, do the things that will make him happy at least. A few fish and a warm place to sleep later, and the staccato rumbling of his purrs shake the simple stall walls where I leave him. Good sign, good omen.
The town's single street is empty, as I make my way to the tavern, but I do see lights in the buildings around me. The Dockside is empty, and that's kinda strange, but, even though its raining hard, I force myself to look around, to see every detail I can see.
The blacksmithy...its dark too. The forge is out.
Maybe the blacksmith is gone on holiday, or moved on to a bigger town, no need to get jumpy...still...
I reach back to check my weapon. Nice and loose, the giant blade held securely to my back. Some folk, get scared just seeing my blade. Most start running when I brandish it...and the ghost white flare of the magic on the blade makes that keening wail...just like it is right now...
Something, something..is just not right...
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Post by Emizael on Feb 10, 2006 15:50:42 GMT -5
31st day, January-- Redridge Mountains, Lakeshire.
The world swims in eerie fashion, backlight with the ghostly light of my barbarous blade...
Dwarven voices, raised in triumph, ring out from the shadows of the forge, voices tinged with malice, and curiously, by accent, not of Dun Morogh stock..
Strange, what things run through your mind when shock sets in.
I'm laying, face down in the mud, and the rain is threatening to drown me...
I realize, I can't move. I can taste blood, my blood! I can't feel anything..
I see boots above me...and the leering face of a dwarf grinning down at me...a long sniper rifle in his hands.
Oh, Elune...Dark Iron Clan...
Did..he..shoot me...in..the ..head...?
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Larae
New Arrival
Posts: 18
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Post by Larae on Feb 11, 2006 14:35:37 GMT -5
Ack! Don't stop there! Do you have any bandages?
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Post by Emizael on Feb 14, 2006 15:30:35 GMT -5
Februrary 2, Red Ridge mountains, location, unknown...
...I wake up...cold..alone...down on the bank of some lake..head feeling like clay, my limbs like stone. I slowly reach up..to the aching in my head..
My helm...dented horribly..but..unbroken..
Takes me a few tries to get it off, and stay conscious. That's a testiment to Dwarven craftsmanship, I tell you..
Try to stay quiet...don't know if the enemy is still near...they probably figure me for dead, and tossed me off the docks...
Dark Iron Dwarfs...oh, I dislike them, I do.
First thing first...I check my pockets, and my bags...
Hurm..they didn't take anything. So...didn't have time to loot me then. Or finish me off. Strange...very..
Wake up again. Grab the hearthstone. Tumble to the floor again. Cry a bit, maybe...well, getting shot, hurts dammit!!
Somebody calls for help...it might be me...can't really remember.
Wake up again...comm chatter...Defenders talking. Someone in the background ..making interesting sounds. See a priest standing over me...
Hear something shouted about fevers...and sickness. Mumble thanks..head to the stables...mounted up and riding.
Lakeshire...clear day... folks about, kids on the docks...the water is so blue it hurts to look at it. Turn the town nearly upside down. Town guard...didn't mean to hit him that hard....he didn't deserve it.
Z. is long gone..if she was ever there. I find the dwarves' tracks ...no hunters with them. Hard to hide, even for crafty bastards like them. Problem is...trail ends at the river...they had to have a boat.
So...lets take stock. My friend is missing. Nobody knows where. A dark iron Clan dwarf, took a well placed shot at me...and I do not forgive such things. Where do the Dark Iron live? Ahhh...the Searing Gorge.
Comm chatter again. Defenders talking. Someone is complaining about a monkey. I am ...enraged. Making a fool of us, someone is? Tracer..machine made by gnomes...lets me find other Defenders..by following the comm. Nifty gizmo. Tells me..that a Defender is in Arathi...I'm going to check this out.
Okay..maybe not the right frame of mind to be doing such things. Maybe not in the best condition, bodily. Maybe, maybe, I'm just a bit crazy, and at a loss for what to do next.
Bah. Irrelevant. Maddening really. Deal with what you have the power to deal with..one step at a time.
So..I get to Arathi. Refuge Point. Been there before. Lots of times. Military outpost. Seen lots of good soldiers go out into the Valley...some...never came back.
I'm ready for anything! A fight! Whoever is making that strange noise...
Totally not prepared.
There I am ...standing there...sword out, looking mean...and ..this...girl...this...small, leather clad girl..taps me on the shoulder...
Have you ever been really thirsty...like..parched...and then..someone offers you a tall cup of sweet water?
It was like that...looking into Annasha's eyes the first time.
So...I'm shocked. Speechless. More so..then..it seems, Annasha. She can speak, after a fashion. But, its an odd sound. Sounds like.."Nyu!" Don't know what that means, neither does she. She can write, though, and that makes for an interesting conversation.
Somehow, we talk for ...hours. More then that...
Days later, I'm still talking to her..wandering around the Highlands with her. Pretty soon, I realize...a week has gone by. Odd, that...the whole world went away...just as soon as I met her. We roam about, seven days gone now..ending up in Auberdine.
I don't know what it is about this woman. I have...never..felt such...attraction...such...intense emotions for another ...
Its very very strange. Its like, I've waited my entire life for Annasha. Talking to her, simply wandering with her...has..changed me somehow.
I think...I think...I love her. I'm going to ask her to stay with me...or, if she will allow me to stay with her.
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Post by Kalmorith on Feb 16, 2006 19:59:13 GMT -5
((Uh oh...a love interest. Now you're in trouble. Never mind the shot to the head. I'll be that's nothing compared to what's coming! *munches popcorn*))
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Post by Emizael on Feb 24, 2006 12:13:55 GMT -5
10 February--Thorium Point
Comes a time, I guess, for every man, when you have to take stock of what ya got, and what you have to do to get it.
Guess, I'm lucky. Got a lot of good things going on. Met a nice girl. Real nice. Pretty too. Likes me, for some reason. Asked her to marry me. She said; yes.
Pretty good. Don't have to guess about that.
Got Duty too...
Have to find the damn dwarf that shot me, and shove his weapon so far up his...
Well...gotta find that damn dwarf. So, here I am...Thorium Brotherhood Camp...in the Searing Gorge. This is where I find the Dark Iron Clan.
Deep mines, stretching miles under ground. Payback, thinks me...
I grab a few of thier lookouts, one by one..creeping past thier lumbering Warforged Juggernauts, golems that the Dark Iron Clan uses to protect thier precious lookout towers. I grab these lookouts, and press them for information. One..by ..one...they talk. They talk a lot. Loud and long..into the dark night..they talk...oh yes....
Dark Iron Clan, needs slaves. They have a "deal" brokered with some of the less scrupulous humans of the Alliance, humans who don't know any better. This deal...see, they smuggle kids. Little ones. Lots of orphans, hard to keep trap of so many...so, the Dark Iron, they can buy in bulk. The problem, is sneaking them out.
So, they strongarm people like Z, who..get themselves into lots of trouble by trying to do the right thing, but using the wrong tools.
See, I find out that Z was using the black market to get supplies for her charges. She got in serious debt, the kind she couldn't pay off with money. So, her debtors sell her, and her charges, to the Dark Iron...who are busy collecting, and taking them to Blackrock Mountain.
None of my informers...sees the next day. I hate these guys. I am going to war now...Harsh War, the kinda war where...one side or the other gets exterminated.
I leave my wife-to-be in Stormwind, scouting out houses and apartments that we can buy, live together in, and raise a family in.
Meantimes, whiles she's busy, I'm off to murder.
Of course I don't tell Annasha what I'm doing, she don't know about Z, or any of this stuff. I don't tell her this, not cause I don't trust her..but..
I don't want her to know what I'm really like. Its scary..thinking that if I told her what I'm really like, she might not love me anymore. Ach..no use thinking of things like that when there is redwork to be done.
So, here I sit, gathering my things, and waiting for Tzarek of the Thorium Brotherhood to put the finishing touches on my "Special Surprise" for the Dark Iron.
I'm going in later today. I am going to do bad bad things. Someday...when you read this...if you read this...If, I fail, don't make it back..just skip to the parts where I told funny stories, or made you laugh, or..maybe even the parts where life is just..not so bad, eh? Then you can smile, and think...maybe I am not such an evil person.
Its ready. Its time...
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Post by Emizael on Mar 17, 2006 13:49:38 GMT -5
(Date and Location illegible)
I'm painting. I said before, the thing is art, or it isn't...and this..is art.
The bright flash of my blade in the darkness, highlighted by torches, firepits, lavaflow. Reds and blacks, violets and purples, underscored by the deeper hues, crimson, turned against the dark leather and steels of General Anvilforge, and his many minions.
The wind whistles about me, the frenzy of fur and claws, black against the black as I leave the lights, and head deeper and deeper into the depths of Blackrock...
The screams of the dying...an orchestra of pain all around me. This symphony, color, sound, feel, taste!
Just like the operas of old, all the death and gore and violence, but a stunning, stark beauty all the same.
The song of my allies, all about me, the loud voice of the dwarf, singing battle hymns, the light of his healing showing the black marks on his face an arms from the long days of fighting, grime and ichor on his once pristine vestments. The paladin, his armor worn and dented, once noble and gold and silver, shining seemingly from within with the faith of his order, that massive glowing hammer keening counterpoint to my own blade.. The warrior, shield held high, stepping in front of me to catch the axe blow meant for my neck, his shout lost in the explosions of ice and hail and hellborne flame from the mage behind us.
Deeper and deeper we go...and the Art..the beauty..it hollows my soul. Vengeance is an art...Retribution is the intent of this work, the dreaming hand that guides my blade now, is the same as that what held the brush, only days ago, preparing on the hillside for this ..cacaphony of devastation. The blade falls aside, washed in the bitter oil of the canvas, the Dark Iron Canvas, and up comes the bow again, singing its song, and as it sings, I hear my companions calling again, adding thier own voices to the shrill twang of the bowstring.
The loudest voice cuts through my work for the barest moment..."They're on tha retreat laddie!! Hold yer fire, we've wounded!!"
I look back, and crumpled on the floor beside me, shield shattered, pieces scattered, the warrior looks up at the cavern ceiling, his eyes now seeing the work, seeing the art in its entirety for the first time...
"Ach..he's gone. I cannae help him no'. Lemme see that arm, Mage!" The priest speaks again, and moves to tend the wounds of the remaining survivors.
I stand silently, listening to the rush of blood in my veins. Such sweet music..to accompany my painting.
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Post by Emizael on Mar 27, 2006 10:38:19 GMT -5
( date and location illegible)
...another lost soul, her face burned forever into my mind. She was a nice person, the mage. I should have gotten her name...I should have remembered it forever..but ..now I am just left with the last few moments of her life, as we few faced the Golem Lord, and his minions...
The stench of electricity, arcing from the crazed dwarf's hands, the mage, her hair so red, shining as she loosed her last spell, and ...energy spent, leapt in front of the blast, meant for the Priest.
The dwarf...his beard burned off, his face red and streaked from tears, calling hoarsly what few prayers remained to him...and...
With the last falling thud, the huge iron and stone monstrosity falls. The blade of my Soul Reaver hums in my fist...stealing the life of Argelmach...returning life to my tired and torn limbs..my wounds closing before my very eyes, while my companions...those brave, lost souls...they spill thier lives for me...into the hot, black stone.
Thier names are lost to me. Only the faces remain. The dwarf leans heavily on the stone...he looks at me, and he says such harsh words.."Fools' Errand..." "Idiocy!" His ranting...washes away, as my senses and the keen ears of my Worg catch the conversations of the elementals near-by...
They whisper in thier firey tounges...they are preparing for me. I have prepared for them, too...my gift to the creatures of fire, oh yes...
It cost me a fortune, and nearly all I could beg, borrow, and steal, but I feel the cold lump of steel in my pocket, pressed against my flesh, and the cold that it radiates...numbing me...to all but the mission.
I lean down, and pull the dwarf to his feet. I tell him....I tell him...to either retreat, or follow, but be silent!
This stage of the work, must be done...in silence...
I creep forward, pressed nearly flat against the stones...and make my way closer, ever closer...
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Post by Emizael on Apr 27, 2006 2:50:51 GMT -5
The Spire...is silent. We fought, for days, and days, from the lowest depths, to the tallest part of the spire, we fought.
So many good friends, and Allies lost...and..a great moment, of glory, of victory, and...the tragedy of loss...
In the very bowels of the Depths, near the chamber of Incendius, I tracked my quarry, my prey...
And there in the firey embrace of the demented Elemental creature, did I spring my most devilish trap.
It was a small thing really. A small orb, of ice-white steel, pressed with runes, marked by the Mages of Dalaran, the cold of a thousand mages, all casting at once. The lava, quickened, and hardened. The elementals, screamed in rage and pain, and terror..oh, yes..terror, and for one single moment...
I found Z. Battered. Worn. Near death, and ...broken inside, from the tortures of the Dark Iron, and thier masters. All of this..all of this madness, for my friend, and..there she lay, crumpled, the snow of my artifact's summoned blizzard forming a crown of ice upon her brow.
In her last moment, I would like to think that she had found peace...I hope so...all she could manage to tell me, was...
Things that I already know.
I carried her apologies, and the last hopes of her fading heart, up into the slave pens, where the Dark Iron held thier captives. Freeing those that I could, and granting mercy to those I could not, I left Blackrock. I felt, hollowed inside...bereft of any feelings...but I led my weary charges over the cracked and broken terrain, to Thorium Point...and ..after sending them on, I turned back to the Spire, and looked on..as the flames rekindled, and the acrid smoke bellowed forth again.
Mortal magic, can only do so much.
I took Z's body home, and gave her a proper burial. A few folk attended, even some of the Alliance command.
Heard what I did, and how I did, slapped me on the back, told me what I great job I did. Even gave me a promotion, and my commission back. Seargant Major, they said...we have need of men like you...
They pinned the insignia on my chest, wouldn't take no for an answer...I just ...looked across the small crowd, into the eyes of my wife, and...walked away for a time.
I made some bones for the Alliance. I do what they tell me to do, when they tell me to. Alterac, Warsong, Arathi....I go where I'm needed, front line, or back alley. I keep coming home, and looking into the eyes of Annasha, and ..hearing the happy sounds the babies make...and...they tell me...that I am still doing the right thing.
I made a promise, once. To save who I could, by any means neccesary. I guess, that means, more killing. I'll do it...so my children won't have to. I'll do it...so that...folks like Z. don't end up dead on some forsaken mountain in the middle of nowhere.
It will take my life, to fulfill this promise, I guess, but...that's what life is for.
Heh. Chant says, the only life worth living is one of adventure; and...berks also say... if its worth living for, its worth dying for too.
(( End..part one.))
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Post by Fechak on Apr 28, 2006 7:05:40 GMT -5
((/clap))
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Post by Caspin Mordain on Apr 28, 2006 11:55:22 GMT -5
(( This is probably my favorite story on the forums. I love the style, Emi - it's very different, but easy to follow and grasp, and it has an EXCELLENT tempo. Very impressive. Chant says, you need to write more. ))
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Post by Emizael on Apr 28, 2006 13:45:14 GMT -5
(( okay, okay. Lemme steal some more good writing from the rest of you cats, and think of what I'm going to do next...but...I think that what I have coming up has more to do with a certain Warlock, rather then Emi, but...Emi *does* have some more to tell, I do believe. ))
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