Ravenholdt RP Sanctum

Naunet's Stash of Stuff

Fri, 30 Jul 2010 01:48:15 GMT

by Naunet (Posted Fri, 30 Jul 2010 01:48:15 GMT)
*waves tentatively*

>.> <.< ........ I bring you things that may resemble art? I dunno. They're just really quick sketches that I did trying to break this artists' block I've been stuck in. Blargh.

http://arwydd.deviantart.com/art/The-Inquisitor-173289498
From my dA description: "Alfalfa is the kind of druid who takes the preservation of nature's balance to the extreme. She sees you kill that animal or plant needlessly? Rest assured, your body will soon be used as fertilizer and food for future life. She is the Garmak'Gun, the Inquisitor, of the Shakh'Oshu Ring."

http://arwydd.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d2v66ts
Okay so yeah, she's not really WoW art. :< Don't beat me?

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Beta questions thread

Fri, 30 Jul 2010 00:35:14 GMT

by Naunet (Posted Fri, 30 Jul 2010 00:35:14 GMT)
Nope. You're in Echo Isles for a few levels and are then sent to Sen'jin Village. 'Course, quests there have been modified to adapt to the fact that their original destination is now occupied by a rather intricate and active Troll community!

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Chander: Who is he, and what's his story? (with pictures :D)

Fri, 30 Jul 2010 00:03:20 GMT

by Brynjar (Posted Fri, 30 Jul 2010 00:03:20 GMT)
I CAN'T STAND Paintshop Art. It annoys me. However, the art isn't too bad for Paintshop. Anyways, I was asked to review this, and I did. Chander, what you want to do. Do not refer to officer ICly or anything unless it is an officer. Avoid it. You need to work on punctuation, mostly comas. I am not sure if all your lore checks up, but I don't feel like checking it. Too lazy. As for Dragoon as a ranking, I am unsure if it fits for Orcs because Dragoon is more of a 1700-1800's idea of a cavalryman. They are more of mounted infantymen anyways. However, it is a cavalryman title. More names you may want to consider. Uhlan, Hussar, Cuirrassier, Winged Hussar, Cavalier, Ruyter, Carbineer, Chevauex-Leger, Light Cavalry, Heavy Cavalry, Provincial Cavalry, Yeomanry, Raider, Scout Cavalry, Cataphract, Horse Archer, Scout, Oprichnik, Noble Cavalry, Keshik, Sipahi, or any other names I forgot to mention. However, a lot of these names are based after medieval society.

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Evelene's Art Dump (Some NSFW) (Comment and Critique)

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 23:47:42 GMT

by Brynjar (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 23:47:42 GMT)
That is so cute, I need to kill you now. I'm sorry, but you are not allowed to live because you have done your earthly duty. REALLY well.

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Ragers

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 22:54:29 GMT

by Brynjar (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 22:54:29 GMT)

Zenithas wrote:
Standing before u is Catlord, the king of cats. He is also a vampire, and a demon, but also an angel and a god. He is the son of keal'thas and truie king of silvermoon but also the right hand man of Illidan who made him heir to the illidan army and his temple in case he ever died. He doesnt have the mana curse thing but instead drinks blood but only from people he likes. Seeing him makes you instantly respect him because his sword makes you realise he is a true ruler of silvermoon and the ultimate form of power and ruler of silvermoon. He is also king of cats.

For the last time, stop bringing up my old Belf Pally's My RP description! I deleted him already because it was too cliche!

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New RealID "features"

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 21:01:51 GMT

by Zenithas (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 21:01:51 GMT)
As just covered in my "Lotta Hackers" thread (/endshamelessplug) I've been able to confirm some news passed my way recently.

Blizz fixed the security issues around realID - meaning it is now impossible to intercept the account email for a friend-of-a-friend, short of using software that violates the ToS.

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Lotta hackers lately...

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 20:58:26 GMT

by Zenithas (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 20:58:26 GMT)
You are more than welcome.

As an update-before-the-update, I was just speaking with someone in the security industry, who also happens to play World of Warcraft.

Not sure if it was a server-side patch or not, but as of last shut-down, RealID requests are now sent server-side. Meaning that I can now see the names of friends of friends, but not intercept their account emails.

I should also mention that it does not clarify the association (real name/wow name) of friends-of-friends.

As such, and after confirming, I can now say that the realID system is now 'safe'. Just be sensible with it.

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The Video Thread!

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 20:04:10 GMT

by Aladius (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 20:04:10 GMT)
Zenithas's reputation with the Society of the Phoenix has increased by 5000!

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Shakh'Oshu Ring [H]

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 18:57:14 GMT

by Ea Juuzau (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 18:57:14 GMT)
The Shakh'Oshu ring is hoping to have a fairly large emphasis on in-character PvE progression in Cataclysm; it seems only natural considering our lore. We're also aggressive towards the Alliance, so PvPers are invited to join as well.

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Hardkandy

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 18:28:51 GMT

by Brynjar (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 18:28:51 GMT)

Hardkandy wrote:
134-148 lbs, depending on how much time she spends in a city

...so, if she spends like 6 minutes in Orgrimmar, she can gain like 14 pounds? Orcish Grill ftw!

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Pic thread

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 18:26:36 GMT

by Brynjar (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 18:26:36 GMT)

Tinox wrote:
If you don't mind, I moved your post to the pic thread to avoid redundance.

Redundancy is the primary export of Legends Chat. Where should we take it, Boss?

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Computer Geeks: UNITE!!!

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 17:52:28 GMT

by Zenithas (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 17:52:28 GMT)
*LMAO* You know, he's got a point.

But Blizz didn't make humans that didn't look like hare-lipped furfaces. I think it has to be a regional thing for New Stormwind, since not all humies look like it.

As for the comp, sorry I couldn't help out earlier.

For MS-Paint, it's somewhere in the toolbar near "image attributes" (crop), I'll get back to you on that one (about the time I actually write up my 'advanced security' post)

For Gimp, there's a crop tool, and resizing is in Image -> Scale Image.

Thanks for the tip about macs, BTW Lukar. ^^

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I'm Back, Baby

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 17:24:06 GMT

by Lukar Darksun (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 17:24:06 GMT)
Well, sort of. Due to issues that won't be discussed here, my main account is currently locked. Until I can get it unlocked, I'll be tooling around on a trial account. Characters are named Loucar on Horde (Orc Hunter), and Alliance is Adonsia (Nelf Priestess).

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Warcraft in Starcraft?

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 17:20:29 GMT

by Slaye (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 17:20:29 GMT)
The one that dances on top of the gas station in the commercial definately has belf ears, though. They stick up on top of her head.

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Traveller

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 12:05:04 GMT

by Clutch (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 12:05:04 GMT)
Ah! You've been expecting me?
I cannot count the worlds I have seen and the lives I have been, and vast is the measure of my memories.
It follows that, like many of you, re-birth into this world brings the familiar sites and sounds of a land and her people in need of selfless sevice.
How many times have we been here? How many of you, like me, begin with that very first step towards the familiar face of our very first righteous teacher?
Brothers and sisters, I say to you now that something vast and sinister approaches, and the very worlds we have always know will be irrevocably lost.
It is therefore with great sadness and humility that I ask for your guidance and fellowship as I emerge one final time to offer my hand and heart for the peoples, all the peoples, of this dominion.

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Your gaming area!

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 04:35:04 GMT

by Zenithas (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 04:35:04 GMT)

^ From right to left, my new "THub" video phone + iPad ripoff (free, courtesy of a very apologetic Telstra), my monitor (plus speakers), which is resting at current on my Geddes & Grosset dictionary. Then there's the tower, with "stuff" on top of it, and below that you can see the space the drawers will be within when I can get around to making them. Eventually. On the right-side of the pic is the printer + old cordless I'll be taking apart to play with. The cordless, I mean. The printer is our current scanner/printer/fax combo.

To the right of the camera is the computer Beth's using, to the right is the computer Jem's using, both at 90° to my own.

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(H) Adomog Bladewind of the Bloodfury Clan-Journal

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 00:03:44 GMT

by Adomog (Posted Thu, 29 Jul 2010 00:03:44 GMT)
I travelled far into Kalimdor this day. I rode into Azshara to visit the Bloodfury Clan Den for the first time. The land there is both beautiful and deadly. There were dozens if not hundreds of demons throughout the countryside. I rode boldly through them without any fear. I could sense the demon’s anger at my audacity to approach them and at the same time curiosity about my presence in their midst. These were also intelligent creatures for they knew my power was far greater than theirs and that my minions, sometimes my only companions, would tear them apart without any regret, and feast on their Fel Energy and grow even stronger. It takes a demon to know a demon it seems.

For at the peak, the zenith of my magic, I transform into what most of our people consider a nightmare, an abomination. I can’t maintain the form for very long for the great quantity of energy and focus of effort it takes for the metamorphosis but during that time I am mighty and terrible. The burguul ((shadow)) and ghaash ((fire)) magic are my instruments of destruction. The horror that is me is the last thing that my enemies and the enemies of my clan and the Horde will ever see. The image will burn into their very being and accompany them into a tormented after-life.

Seeing my own face in the mirror after all of these years of fighting, of loss, and guilt seems nearly as frightening to me on a daily basis. Losing friends to Burning Legion, the Alliance, and the Scourge has etched wrinkles into my face, dimmed the once bright light of my eyes, and turned my hair white. The loss of my family has taken my joy. This wound is hidden from view, buried deep inside, and I keep it there for there are those who would seize my emotional pain and turn it into a sword to finish me off for good.

I made plenty of gold today doing the dirty work of those to lazy or unable to do the work themselves. Dugmog will be pleased. Soon I will have enough gold and other valuables to assist him in his journey to become a Shadowclan grunt and elite hunter. One day I hope that he will do the same for his children so that our extended family will grow stronger and more secure in this foreign land which has become our home.

May the ancestors and the creator watch over my children, the clan, and our beloved Horde.

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The Betty Crocker Bag

Wed, 28 Jul 2010 21:37:14 GMT

by June (Posted Wed, 28 Jul 2010 21:37:14 GMT)
June looked up at Kiraleen then walked over to Alistaire. After sniffing him she was distracted by the sounds of Naunet slapping dough onto the cookie tray. When the Forsaken woman reminded her to share, the cat tried to hide her embarrassment by grooming herself.

It occurred to her that she could resume her tauren form and help. The big feline moved near the stove and sat down staring at it, tail swishing back and forth impatiently, while emitting a deep rumbling purr.

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[Raid] The Ecstasy of Cold

Wed, 28 Jul 2010 16:56:41 GMT

by Sarnax (Posted Wed, 28 Jul 2010 16:56:41 GMT)
He had always been a hard sleeper. It was his way to recharge the destructive energies he kept inside. The dreams were mostly mental excursions into unwanted places and dark times. It was during those mental excursions that he saw visions of his past. A vision of the earth. The dark mud and clay soot, with that musty odor he had become all to familiar with. The sights and sounds of his Hand brothers were right but the emotion of the moment was off. He should be experiencing the feeling of loss and guilt but was instead seeing this moment through the prism of an old war battered Orc. He had just been pitted against his friend, a Hand aspirant, and confidant. With the circle closed and the pressure risen, the young son of a butcher was left with no way out, physically and figuratively. Across from him was his destiny. In the eyes of another soul stood his path to greater success and prominence.

What had to be done was done. With his opponents crushing defeat came his path to full brotherhood with the Hand. One by one they grabbed his shoulders with true enthusiasm and camaraderie. As the Orc was turned round and round, he felt the crushing weight of his brothers, round and round and round and....

“Mr. Sarnax?! Wake up sir! There is screaming and yelling coming from the deck! I can hear Mr. Blacksand yelling out orders!” The frantic female goblin was intensely shaking the half naked Orc.

Sarnax pushed the goblin to the side and peered out his view port. What he saw was both unreal and unnervingly close. Quickly he strapped on his remaining armor and grabbed his weapons from their resting place near his bed.

“It'll be alright young one, this monstrosity needs to be taught another lesson in staying dead. I'm all to happy to help.” With that he was gone through the door and up the crowded stairs to the deck.

The scene was typical for a battle field. Bodies here and there, chaotic almost frantic movements by the ships crew and of course his comrades doing what they do best. Instincts always take over when the proverbial shit hits the fan.

“Watch out Sarnax! The blue fire is almost upon you,” screamed Selris.

With a look he grinned at the priest and turned toward the fire. Casually he walked until he was at the precipice. He called to the shadows and the dark arts that had been honed into him. His cloak of shadows fell over him as he walked to the edge of the ship, ignoring the pesky blue fire and getting his first good look at the resurrected abomination.

From the corner of his eye he saw his employer. His black silhouette blotting out the sky, somehow seemingly pulling the thing towards the ship. Although he disliked the undead, he liked raw untamed power. Especially when it was on his side of the battlefield. With a glance back at the monstrosity Sarnax had one thought in his mind; just a little closer and my comrades will see the meaning of a flying Orc!

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[A] Sorael Moonleaf

Wed, 28 Jul 2010 12:57:19 GMT

by Sorael (Posted Wed, 28 Jul 2010 12:57:19 GMT)
Name: Sorael Moonleaf
Race/Sex: Kaldorei (Night Elf) male
Age: 318 (300 years in the Emerald Dream)
Height: 6'3
Weight: 140 lb
Eyes: Gold glow
Hair: green

History
Sorael was born to an herbalist father and a Sentinel mother in Auberdine. When he was just 2 years old, Archdruid Fandral Staghelm, while traveling through Darkshore on a pilgrimage with the Cenarion Circle, sensed a strong druidic power within him. The Archdruid convinced Sorael's parents to allow him to be raised by the Cenarion Circle, in hopes of his druidic powers to flourish.

On his 5th birthday, Sorael was taken to Nighthaven by an envoy of the Archdruid. Though his druidic abilities came naturally, Sorael proved to be a difficult student. Sorael was known as the Prankster of the 'Glade, known for goofing off. Though somewhat of a free-spirit, Sorael proved himself to be a very worthy student. One week after his 18th birthday, he entered the Emerald Dream to, hopefully, learn from the great Cenarius himself. Three hundred years later, he was awoken, though he does not know by whom.

After he was awoken, he went to find his parents, but they had fallen to the Scourge.

Appearance
Sorael is a bit short for a Night Elf, and has an athletic build. His eyes glow a warm yellow, standing out against his silvery-purple skin. His dark green hair reaches his mid-back. On his left forearm he bears a scar he received from a young nightsaber when he was 4 years old.

Personality
Sorael, for the most part, is very uplifted. Though he is hardly ever serious, he knows when straighten up his act and can become stone cold serious. He knows he has a lot to learn about his inherent druidic abilities, and is willing to learn from whomever is willing to take him on as a student.

Goals and Drive
Learn more about druidism from the best teachers in the world
Avenge his parents' death
Maintain balance in the world

Miscellaneous
Cannot stand the Dwarven Distric in Stormwind
Often communes with the spirits of nature to gain insight and guidence
Mistrusts the Dranei, though he is open to learn about them and their culture

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No More Kings [R, violence]

Wed, 28 Jul 2010 04:49:20 GMT

by Mharren (Posted Wed, 28 Jul 2010 04:49:20 GMT)
((Applaud. I like this one very much. Looking forward to more.))

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First, do no harm. [NC-17 - Gore]

Wed, 28 Jul 2010 04:23:58 GMT

by Mharren (Posted Wed, 28 Jul 2010 04:23:58 GMT)
"Just do your job!" Mharren shouted as another curse or shell or other delivery of damage rocked the compound where the field hospital was set up. The physician who was assisting her was older than she but farm more shaken by the war outside that had finally crossed the line and threatened to breech the walls of what was supposed to be a safe have for the injured.

"I don't know what to do...I don't know...." Mharren reached across the operating table and took two handfull's of the surgeon's linen top, pulling him across the patients open abdomen and bringing his masked face within in inches of her own. His pale blue eyes were wide and unfocused and she shook him severely until they focused upon her own. "

Get the fuck a hold of your self Sel'Quar!" She threw him back without grace and he stumbled a few feet from the operating table into one of the surgeons working at the table behind theirs who kicked him back towards their own table.

"I can't! they're coming!" Sel'Quar screamed and he pulled the mask from his face and deserted his post, she spared him only a second's glance as he fled from the operating hall, his gown covered in blood and splotchy fist marks about his lapels where she had grabbed him.

"Nurse!" She shouted and to her surprise one responded, taking up Sel'Quar's post without needing to be told. The nurse was female and she dug into the patient's abdomen with more courage and purpose than Sel'Quar had when the fight outside had met the compound. The nurse didn't need to be told what to do and Sel'Quar's assistant didn't hiccup in her passing of instruments to the nurse at her side who had replaced the physician who should have been there.

Mharren worked as quickly as she could, handling the upper and left quadrant of the young man's abdomen, pulling out shrapnel here, irrigating there, and tying off vessels as she went. The nurse handled the other side. The response nurse's hands shook but she did Sel'Quar's job, looking frequently over her mask at what Mharren was doing to copy her efforts.

The door that led down to the operating hall opened and a single, grimy foot soldier accompanied by his pet-in-arms entered. "they're coming!" He cried. "They've breached the compound!" The other surgeons and nurses looked around at one another, holding up hands with bloodied gloves and seeking guidance. All of them held the same commission and no one of them was more in charge than the other.

Mharren didn't wait for someone else to take charge, she left her side of the table, relieved and not surprised to see that the nurse who had taken Sel'Quar's place continued with the surgery.

"Go!" She shouted. "Get out of here! You don't stand a chance if they breach the lower chambers! Head out the back and take the Eastern tunnels to the burning graves! Go! Go now!" She screamed.

"What about our patients?" One male surgeon asked as others hurried past him, taking their nurses with them and abandoning their patients.

"Just go." Mharren said, quieter now, but more insistent. When he hesitated she made it an order even though the bars on her shoulders were the same as his. He gave one regretful look at his patient before hurrying after the others through the back doors that lead into recovery and then into the morgue and processing chambers.

"You." Mharren said, tearing her mask off and rushing to the bedside of the patient at the front of the table line. She spoke to the nurses that had been at her table, none of them have left. They looked to her for guidance and she could see in their eyes that they would do whatever she asked.

"Intra-cardiac atropine, all of them; use full ampules." none of them faltered but instead scattered, only the anesthetist nurse at Mharren's patient remained at her table to put down the one she had been working on. They worked quickly and within minutes the nurses and Mharren had finished stabbing all eight patients undergoing surgery in the chests and had killed them all, their monitors flat-lining.

"Go to recovery, take anyone who can walk under their own power. Go quickly and follow the others!" The nurses obeyed.

Mharren remained behind, pulling the patient on the first table off of the slab, letting his opened body roll to the floor and stealing his gurney. She drove it towards the entrance and knocked it over in front of the door. It wasn't much of a bar but it might spare a few seconds. There was a dispensary locker nearby and she threw her shoulder into it. At first it only teetered, and then it fell, joining the gurney in the barricade.

She was pulling the second dead patient off his gurney when she heard the first thumps at the door. For a split second she wondered if they were friendlies, if she'd locked out her own. But then she realized they hadn't even bothered to try the latch, and that they were trying to force it open. It didn't mean for sure that it wasn't a friendly in a panic trying to get through, but she thought it was more likely an assault team or lone enemy sent down into the lower levels to clear them out with a flurry of curses or bullets or arrows.

Who ever had been behind the metal door had been large, for it had only taken what seemed like a second for Alliance members - at least five of them - to barge through the door and jump adeptly over the barricade she had tried to build.

The first one through the door spotted her and she dove over the gurney of the third dead patient, sliding morbidly over his mutilated torso and onto the floor behind, toppling the table over and having the body fall on top of her. An arrow flew through the gurney and threw the body of the dead patient, only the head of it protruding out of his chest and sparing her own.

She scrambled out from under him, kicking off the body and a coild of intestine that had wrapped itself around her left ankle and then she was crawling as quickly as she could under the tables ahead of her. The attackers yelled something in common and she knew she wouldn't make it to the recovery room, even if she got to the door how would she stand up and pull the latch and make it through without being hit?

She went anyway, pushing off the floor when she scuttled out from under the last table - hers - and lunged at the door, pulling the latch and slipping through. Something hit her lagging shoulder and forearm. No, not hit, went through her lagging shoulder and forearm. She screamed in agony but retracted the arm anyway, and anchoring herself to the inner door ring, she used her fall backwards to push it shut against her pursuers.

Her objective mind saw the arrows in her arm but adrenaline enabled her to ignore it for the time being. The pushed at the door and from where she lay on her back she thrust out her feet and kicked it shut, scrabbling up to her knee's to lock the recovery door from the inside. She had to lean into it while she dipped her un-punctured arm down the front of her shirt and pulled out the lanyard with the keys to the compound on them.

Another ram from the intruders hit the door and she had to really lean into it to keep them from getting through and putting the door back into its frame. She fit the key to the lock and twisted it. As she stood and pulled it out another bang hit the door and she wasn't sure...but it sounded like more Alliance members had joined the initial infiltrators in the Operatory. The lock was heavy, but they would get through if they really wanted to, and in war...the enemy always wanted to get through.

She turned to face the recovery room and felt a burst of relief to see that at least most of the fleeing physicians and nurses had taken a patient or two with them. Only a few remained and none were conscious. She rushed to the medicine locker and grabbed whatever she could that would be quickly fatal in high doses, filling the same intra-cardiac syringe and stabbing each of the remaining patients in the chest who did not have blue banners above their beds...banners that signified they were Alliance POW's. She didn't think the intruders would kill their own.

After injecting the last of the recovery patients - patients they had slaved over to save and that she was now murdering - she took hold of both arrows in her arm and broke off the ends, suppressing a scream as she did so.

Another bang hit the door behind her and she stumbled backwards, dropping the arrow ends and booking it for the exit that lead into the morgue. She locked the door there too, thankful none of the surgeons ahead of her had thought to lock it and raced across the room, not bothering to veer around the autopsy slab but instead vaulting over it with her good arm and taking off towards the Western tunnel - not the one she had sent the others through.

She hit the door running and sped along the damp stone corridor, behind her she heard the recovery room being breached and she stopped, looking back the way she'd come. With only an instant of hesitation she started screaming in what she hoped was correct Common, goading them and hoping to draw them down the Eastern tunnels instead of the Western ones where the others had gone.

She began to back up and turned when she heard the doorway to the Eastern tunnels being burst through. Her feet hit the stone with what seemed like highly audible slaps and she pumped her arms for speed, her lungs aching and blood streaming down her right arm. She could see the next doorway, it was open, only twenty meters or so ahead and leading to the outside. She didn't have time for relief she only had to focus on -

- from her left something swift, pale, and remarkably solid shot out and clocked her in the neck. Her feet were faster and she feel backwards, landing with a wet thwack on the stone floor, the air leaving her lungs and her eyes welling with tears.

A Kal'dorei female was on top of her, grabbing a fist-full of her hair and driving a fist into Mharren's face, over and over. She felt her nose break and hot, wet, runny blood gush out of her and fill her open mouth, drowning a scream. The woman was shouting something in her native language each time she hit Mharren in the face, holding up her head then driving her fist into Mharren's jaw and sending her head into the concrete underneath them both.

She reacted instinctively and bucked her hips, throwing the woman off balance. The move sent the woman's next strike into the floor instead of Mharren face and the woman cried out. Later she would only be able to speculate about how she got the woman off of her and how she had commandeered one of the woman's daggers and driven it into her right flank, under the ribs and likely puncturing the liver.

She had gotten up then, bouncing from wall to wall for the first ten meters or so as she tried to run straight, letting the rebounds propel her further towards her escape. Her head was muddled and her eyes blind with tears and blood.

When she passed through the end of the tunnel into the open air of the Ghostland's she was hit again, and again as arrows hit her back, the force of them propelling her steps as she stumbled towards the ravine outside the Eastern exit.

She heard a male voice cry out in rage and then something hard and slick went through the right side of her lower back. The force was incredible and it threw her center of balance forward as ard as if she'd been hit with a solid javelin, knocking her down into the ravine where she rolled shoulder over hip until her head struck something more solid than the earth itself and the darkness took her.

Mharren awoke with a start, the darkness receding but the panic still flooding her system like acid. She screamed and flung her right hand behind her to pull the throwing dagger from her hip, but it wasn't there.

She looked around the dimly lie room and realized she was in a hospital bed, but it was not the one she had woken up in after falling into the ravine and hitting her head years ago.

A dream...a dream. I lived...and now I'm -

The scream that had left her lips when she'd woken from the nightmare had brought two of the nurses to her room who barged in with alarm on their faces. They went to her side and when they touched her, she fought them for a moment, letting out plaintive wails as she began to sob, at first tihnking it was the Alliance members who had perused her through the tunnels of the complex.

"It was just a nightmare Dr. Sil'Orah...just a nightmare. You're alright." One of the nurses soothed and despite herself she leaned into the nurses embrace and cried, her chest hitching with each pitiful wail.

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Ravenholdt Bulletin Board

Wed, 28 Jul 2010 00:57:01 GMT

by Chander (Posted Wed, 28 Jul 2010 00:57:01 GMT)
Chander woke up next to the bonfire in Lohn Goron, home of the Skulldance, his head throbbing painfully. With a groan he sat up, and touched his dented helmet with a scowl. "Oh yeah... forgot about that..." He muttered. Gritting his teeth he managed to tug the ruined headpiece off. He sat on the ground swaying dizzily for a few moments before pushing himself to his feet and touching the tender swelling on the side of his head, checking for cracks. Satisfied that there were none, he moved toward the pond to wash the blood of his enemies off his face. Kneeling down at the water's edge he gazed at his own reflection, his eyes traveling to an odd red scar shaped like a drop of liquid with horns on either side that marked his right cheek. He shut his eyes, almost able to see again the human that had branded him so. For a moment his mind flashed back to his youth, to the years he spent huddled in a cage, just to be pulled out and tormented by that man, and others like him.

Opening his eyes again he faced his reflection once more, and growled with a deep fury. "I'll make you pay Mathious Broverly. You and that whole damned cult. You'll regret the day you came back from the dead when I smash your skull into a thousand little chunks, and feed your body to the bonfires of my clan's home!" He punched the reflection where the scar showed, the image of himself shattered in the rippling water, then brusquely washed his face. He grabbed his axe and stood up quickly with the thought of heading out to look for the human, but a wave of pain and dizziness shot through his head, almost sending him to the ground. He regained his composure after a moment and sighed. "I'll look for him in the mornin... when my head stops spinnin like some Goblin gizmo..." With that, he stumbled over to his hut, and fell onto his sleeping pallet, passing back out almost instantly.

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Old Skills, Shiny Coin

Tue, 27 Jul 2010 13:36:53 GMT

by Delmorek (Posted Tue, 27 Jul 2010 13:36:53 GMT)
Delmorek walked away from the Blue Recluse with a smile on his face, and the scent of rum on his breath. The sky was a bit dreary that night, almost as if something above it knew what was about to go on in the city, and did not wish to bear witness. "Fine by me", the rogue spoke under his breath. "I've reached a point in my craft where the only way to get better is to give shadow the blood she wants, and it's time I put these skills of mine to work."

He hefted the large pouch of coins in his hand, and they quickly vanished into one of many pockets and hidden places on his equipment. He looked towards Old Town, and knew she was to be there soon, but he needed a bit of ale first.

Stopping at the fortress-like bank of Stormwind, the rogue took out a few Sulfuron Slammers from one of his personal deposit boxes, knowing their incendiary nature would cover the taste of what he slipped into one of them. For himself...he took out the antidote, just in case the drinks were switched. Satisfied, he continued on his way to Old Town.

When he arrived at the Pig and Whistle tavern, he saw the place was nearly deserted. Glares and gold got rid of the few patrons, and slipping downstairs to create a small "issue" with a few of the kegs took care of the staff's presence. He winked, and told them he'd watch the place. Given that he was such a regular, and always tipped obscenely well, they left him alone to sit at the main table and drink. He only needed a minute or two once she arrived.

He heard footsteps and looked up, seeing the young woman he'd been hired to deal with. Smiling an eerily disarming smile, he took a long swig of his rum, and introduced himself. "Name's Delmorek, miss. The staff had a small issue with the kegs downstairs, and I'm watching the place for 'em." She told him she owned the tavern, which he did not really believe, but it did not matter. Her life was bought and paid for already, and the pirate who dances with smoke and shadows was to ensure the transaction was handled to his customer's precise instructions.

She finally relented, and joined the man for a drink. "Since you own the place, there miss...I figure I'll offer a mug of my own private stock. Straight from the kegs of the Dark Irons! Ha!" He held out one of the tainted mugs, and took a drink from the skin containing the antidote to the toxin in it." He smiled again, and pounded the other tainted Sulfuron Slammer. The woman grinned, and did likewise, not wanting a regular customer to out-drink the "owner" of the place.

Delmorek dropped all pretense of civility at that point, and let the shadow inside take him. He grinned like a spider having caught a tasty, fat fly in it's web. To him, the air seemed to grow just a tiny bit colder, as if some incorporeal lover had blown him a chill kiss and when he spoke, his voice held a deadpan tone "****** sent me". The woman turned ghost white and barely got out a gasp before her face hit the table, unconscious. Delmorek came out of his seat and around the table with near-catlike grace, and slipped his dagger into her sub-clavian artery. Working quickly, he laid her body on an oiled canvas tarp, removed the woman's heart, and stored it in a small brass container. Her head, he took as a souvenir in a watertight bit of oilskin. He took a small vial of her blood before dragging the body outside and concealing it in some bushes near the entrance.

Dashing back into the tavern, he made sure to spill a *lot* of his strongest-smelling rum on the little bit of blood that had spilled. He left some coin for the tavernkeeper to clean up what looked like a drunk had knocked over a few large tankards.

He dragged the body, wrapped in the oiled tarp, to the canals nearby, and slipped into the water with it. Quaffing a potion of water breathing, he stuffed a lot of loose rocks from the canals into the folds of the tarp, and swam underwater to the large drain where they let out into the harbor. He shoved the corpse into the tunnel, and watched it drift out towards the open ocean.

Checking to ensure he had no blood left on him, he climbed out of the canals near a hidden alcove and sat down to pen a simple note. "This letter is written in her blood. I have been paid to send it.", and wrapped this note around the brass container with her heart, and mailed it to the recipient, as he he had been paid to do.

Heading back towards the tavern, he was pleased to see he had not spilled blood on the way. "Still got it." He thought to himself.

It was true - Delmorek Aundis was open for business.

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Drabbles

Tue, 27 Jul 2010 10:08:31 GMT

by Entaerin (Posted Tue, 27 Jul 2010 10:08:31 GMT)
Entaerin slowly raises his head, cracking open one bloodshot eye. The stink of last night’s feast and drink cling to his hair, making his stomach turn sour. As he stumbles to the washbasin he wonders, through the throbbing pain in his head, why the spirits have no cure for the after effects of the spirits. A rueful grin forms on his lips as he sinks under the cold water.

((RL inspired. ugh...))

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The Frosthammer Clan

Tue, 27 Jul 2010 08:25:07 GMT

by Lukar Darksun (Posted Tue, 27 Jul 2010 08:25:07 GMT)

Brynjar wrote:
Yimir wrote:
Trueforge=Brynar!

Suck my balls, Commie Pinkie!!! >:O ))

((Bryn, I'm just not sure if we can be friends any more.))

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Roleplaying with art.

Tue, 27 Jul 2010 04:33:08 GMT

by Rahzael (Posted Tue, 27 Jul 2010 04:33:08 GMT)
Updated with "Deathgar"(lol), Lilyroot's intro pic to the ICC thread, and it's alternate.

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Chocolate Milk

Tue, 27 Jul 2010 01:09:53 GMT

by Zenithas (Posted Tue, 27 Jul 2010 01:09:53 GMT)
Milo.

*Nods*

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Luan

Mon, 26 Jul 2010 21:36:04 GMT

by Kemi (Posted Mon, 26 Jul 2010 21:36:04 GMT)
Character Name: Luan
Character Alias: The Iron Striker's Reaver
Character Gender: Female
Class: Berserker Warrior
Spec: Fury
Age: 27
Hair: Short and black
Eyes: Yellow
Skin: Purple
Height: 5'7"
Build: Rotting
Occupation: DeathGuard

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(H) Adomog Bladewind of the Bloodfury Clan

Mon, 26 Jul 2010 18:27:06 GMT

by Kilgora (Posted Mon, 26 Jul 2010 18:27:06 GMT)
Adomog is a diamond of a roleplayer in the rough. Through interaction with the roleplay community, I am certain that he will develop a character of great depht. Deeper even than the one he's presented to us. Not many can accurately and convincingly convey the sense of loss that the Orcish race has, deep down within every Orc. Adomog is an Orc led down a dark path, with the best intentions, but the worst of outcomes. And throughout it all, he managed to create that sympathy that all Orcs unspokenly share.

A very nice background story to begin with. I hope that you find your place in the Bloodfury and in the community as a whole, and continue to develop your character and bring him the life he deserves. Happy roleplaying!

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