A story of TW

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Blacklustersoldier
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Re: A story of TW

#76 » Post by Blacklustersoldier » 03 May 2015 06:21

D:
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Wilcox
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Re: A story of TW

#77 » Post by Wilcox » 03 May 2015 07:46

i thought i was the noisiest person, i managed to get majority of the players from both factions to hate me #infamousandproud

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Psychromatic
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Re: A story of TW

#78 » Post by Psychromatic » 03 May 2015 08:10

Wilcox wrote:i thought i was the noisiest person, i managed to get majority of the players from both factions to hate me #infamousandproud
Maybe you are the bad guy, and he is the good guy?

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Wilcox
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Re: A story of TW

#79 » Post by Wilcox » 03 May 2015 08:21

aye thats possible. im not evil though im just an asshole, i tended to help low geared raids and shit from time to time and distributed my jewish gold when i was still actively playing

@eisen i could be a good hero!

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Eisen
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Re: A story of TW

#80 » Post by Eisen » 03 May 2015 16:11

Wilcox wrote:@eisen i could be a good hero!
If you say so, unfortunately Blu is the author. You need to convince her. :P
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Re: A story of TW

#81 » Post by Wilcox » 03 May 2015 17:13

its alright

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Arockalypse
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Re: A story of TW

#82 » Post by Arockalypse » 04 May 2015 00:12

He could be our captive Drainea bitch
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Ragnorak
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Re: A story of TW

#83 » Post by Ragnorak » 05 May 2015 08:53

That feeling when it's been 5 days since the last chapter.

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Lok'tar ogar! Victory or death - it is these words that bind me to the Horde. For they are the most sacred and fundamental of truths to any warrior of the Horde.

I give my flesh and blood freely to the Warchief. I am the instrument of my Warchief's desire. I am a weapon of my Warchief's command.

From this moment until the end of days I live and die - FOR THE HORDE!

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Wilcox
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Re: A story of TW

#84 » Post by Wilcox » 05 May 2015 09:21

every story needs a wrathful gladiator

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Arockalypse
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Re: A story of TW

#85 » Post by Arockalypse » 05 May 2015 17:12

Wilcox wrote:every story needs a wrathful gladiator
May Luster's pigeons shit on your head!
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Re: A story of TW

#86 » Post by Wilcox » 05 May 2015 17:51

jealous

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Re: A story of TW

#87 » Post by SyntaxError » 05 May 2015 20:32

Arockalypse wrote: May Luster's pigeons shit on your head!
Is this a thing now? xD
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Re: A story of TW

#88 » Post by Bluebell » 05 May 2015 20:46

Took a long time because of work, and was tricky one to write. Luster, you know you have a big role to play so ssh! Got an idea of how to fit Wilcox in, if only in passing rather than a major character. Some descriptions are a bit light, had to cut down as was becoming long.

Anyway...

Chapter four – Whispers of war

People in this chapter:
Spoiler:
Rohan
Obliviana
Blackluster
Dje
Etro
Chasity
Gorecleave
Belendors
Ragnarok
Arockalypse
Darchow
Divinity members
Inquisition members

Spoiler:
**Rohan**
As light broke on a new dawn, black sailed ships approached Stormwind's horizon. The great white lighthouse, towering above Stormwind's port spotted them approaching and called for the fleet to be assembled to intercept. As sailors scuttled to their ships, closer inspection by the spotters deemed the incoming ships peaceful rather than a threat The alarm was called down and the large golden bell was brought to a halt, the ringing stopped and Rohan was called for.

The ships pulled into the harbour, the blue water reflecting the coming sunlight. Small boats paddled out of the way to make a path for the much larger, black sailed ships. They approached the marble architecture of the city of Stormwind, the harbour being its entrance in the rear. To meet the incoming ships, Rohan, leader of the Alliance's foremost guild Divinity had assembled his royal guard.

As the ships docked, men clad in black armour marched off the ship. Rohan sat on his white horse, at the top of stairs into the main city. He watched them enter Stormwind as his guard surrounded him. Their white armour in stark contrast to the black wearing men below, their blue feathered helms blew in the wind. He eyed the newcomers up and down and made no attempt to introduce himself, simply waiting for them to approach him. After a few minutes of the two groups facing each other, he grunted at them, and turned to his captain, the archer Obliviana.

“I don't like them” he told her, “You deal with them, see what they want and send them away.” before walking off back into the city, Obliviana sighed and went down to begin communications.
**Merkava**
It had been sometime now that the men dressed in black had entered Stormwind. Their intentions seemed peaceful, and the Alliance leadership planned to take Guardian Chasity's verdict on them. As the chief paladin of the Alliance, it was Merkava duty to present the explanation of their arrival to Chasity. They took their meetings with the angels a lot more seriously that the Horde, and so Merkava was scarcely seen but ordering people to make ready for her arrival.

Unlike many of the Alliance paladins, Merkava was a man of action, and more importantly, an image of action. He shunned the priest robes many Paladins had taken to, and instead wore his silver armour. Part of heritage, passed down by generations, his armour was encased in a gleaming silver material that no sword could pierce. Legend told that it was a gift from the angels of long ago, the glowing gold insignias pulsating out of the shoulders exemplified its ancient origins.

Not long before Chasity's arrival was due, a few days infact, the occasion was brought to a halt. The horn of the Arch Angel was heard, even within the gates of Stormwind itself. Merkava knew that sound, it was something no paladin ever wanted to hear. It was unclear what the blowing of the horn meant, but one thing was clear, action was needed. As head of the Stormwind faith, it was Merkava's duty, he felt, to investigate the cause of this noise. He quickly went to find his second in command.

“Sir, sir! Did you hear that? What does it mean?” Asked Fjord as he saw Merkava approaching.

“I don't know” he replied, without even looking at the Paladin, instead walking straight past him, “But I must go. You are Alliance's leading figure of faith now. You must meet Chasity when she comes, if she still comes. Remember your teachings”.

Fjord was stunned. His rise to being Merkava's second was something none has foreseen, from being nearly thrown out of Paladin training and mocked throughout his time within the faith. Now he was being given the mantle of responsibility, and even the duty of meeting the guardian. Before he could turn to thank his leader, Merkava had already saddled a horse and ran off to the distance, heading for Light's Hope Chapel, the beacon of Angelic faith for the people.
**Rohan**
Upon Merkava's departure, an emergency meeting was called. The leading figures of the Alliance gathered to discuss the recent events. One of the hottest topics was the arrival of the men dressed in black, and what should be done with them. They gathered in the keep of Stormwind, where mighty arcs led the way down the stone corridors. Blue flags and carpets paved the way to the meeting room where decisions of bygone eras had been made over the Alliance's future. Portraits of old figures hung from the walls, as Rohan and Obliviana walked through the corridor up to the room.

“I don't like it Obliviana, this group of men show up, so soon to Chasity's arrival, and then the Paladins and priests go crazy because of his horn being blow?” said Rohan to his trusted captain.

Obliviana listened intently, she had served with Rohan for years, she strolled with him in her green leather armour, her bow strapped to her back. “We will see what the others have to say. Many see no reason to give them a home if that's all they seek.”

Rohan grunted in displeasure as they reached the apex of the keep and entered into a large, circular room held up by stone arches. A large oval table dominated the centre, with seats arranged all around it. Towards the back of the room, a large cloth tapestry was stretched across the wall, its textures portrayed an ancient battle of Alliance's former heroes. Rohan and Obliviana walked up to their seats, pulled them out and sat down. Unlike the Horde, the structure here was more democratic and split across the guilds more evenly, and as such there was no head of this table, all were equal and all faced each other. Divinity were the most prominent guild at the table, but Inqusition, the second guild, still had many heads there.

“Nice of you to join us, finally.” smirked Dje of Inquistion, “Maybe now you've graced us with your presence we can start?”

Tensions were high within the cabinet. It was a time of disjointness within the Alliance, many feared the Horde would soon declare war and saw the crazed Ragnarok itching to strike. Merkava departing so close to Chasity's arrival, and the newcomers to Stormwind only heightened the hostilities between them. Despite this, there was a structure to the proceedings, and discourse was generally carried out in a pleasant manner. After the minor issues were put to bed, the room finally got to the main event.

A Divinity council member, the head instructor at Stormwind's magic school, Lestata took to the floor first on the matter, a fair haired lady dressed in blue robes, she believed in equality for all, and longed for peace between all denizens of the world. She was one of the first to reach out to the new inhabitants of the city and preached that they should be given housing and provided for. This had led to many arguments with her leader Rohan, and she felt her spot at the table may be under threat, yet she was defiant in her stance.

“I for one, believe we should welcome our new friends, we should help anyone that comes to us,” She said confidently, “that is what sets us apart from the wretched Horde”.

After she sat down, Blackluster, sat right of Dea, stood up, “But what do they want? Has anyone spoken to them?” he asked the room.

The blue robed woman stood up once again before anyone else could, “They are running, from what I do not know. They simply said they came from another plain, another world, and that theirs had fallen into ruin, we must help these people!” She begged with her fellow council members.

Rohan sat there with a sullen look on his face. He did not trust these newcomers, and one of his most trusted advisers, Merkava, had left for something beyond his understanding. Arguments then broke out amongst the chamber, the intentions were all good, yet everyone was at odds with each other. After much commotion, Rohan finally stood up.

“Sit down you fools.” he yelled, “I will let them stay here for now, but find out what they want, what they really want. Find out if there's more of them. Within two weeks I want them gone.”

Many protested to Rohan's demands, Lestata most vocal of all, she stood up, shook her head and said “An Alliance as unaccepting of this, is not an Alliance I am to be a part of! I leave tomorrow, anyone else who disagrees with this path into tyranny can come with me.”

After a brief respite, the room then erupted back into arguments as Lestata left. By the morning, she had left Stormwind completely, and to the surprise of the leaders of the Alliance, many had followed.
**Chasity**
Upon hearing the great horn blow, Chasity hastened her dragon's speed. As she arrived to Stormwind she guided her mount down. Paladins dressed in ordain holy armour of silver and gold helped her down, she looked for Merkava but could not see him. There was an urgency about her that made many of the Paladins uneasy. Her white robes trimmed with golden fabrics glistened in the Stormwind sun, the emblem of the Alliance, a mighty lion, clearly embroidered upon her shoulders. She strolled forward and removed her hood to reveal glowing blonde hair. Some stopped to see the spectacle while others carried on with their duties, daring not to gaze.

“You there!” she demanded, pointing at Fjord, “Where is the head Paladin? Take me to him, and Rohan too, gather as many of your council members as you can!”

Fjord stuttered for a moment, shocked she was speaking to him. He then ushered up the confidence and said back to her, “I...I'm the head Paladin, Merkava had to go...somewhere....I can help?”

Chasity looked back at him, she eyed him up and down unimpressed, “You? Really?” she inquired before sighing, “Ok, just, take me to Rohan then”.

Fjord nodded and directed her towards the council chamber. It was there that she told Rohan of the crimes committed in Orgrimmar, and the civil war that had occurred. After hearing her tale, he had all the confirmation he needed. Rohan gathered the royal guard and marched through the city, gathering as many of these insurgents as he could and forcing them back onto their ships. Any who refused were cut down where they stood.

As the group returned to the keep, Rohan went to Etro, the writer of the Alliance paper the Forum. Offering her the once in a lifetime opportunity to interview an Angel, as long as she showed Rohan's decision to be right and just. It was important he felt, that everyone knew what had happened in Orgrimmar, and that Stormwind would not share the same fate. He hoped Lestata would see the error of her ways and return, yet he feared she may soon go to join the darkness that encroached upon TrueWoW.
**Belendor**
It didn't take long for the triumvirate of remaining Hellraisers leaders to take control of the Horde. Many bowed down after the battle of Orgrimmar, others simply fled or fought alone. It was now that Ragnarok wanted more, he turned his attention to the Alliance. His thirst for battle had been heightened by the events of Orgrimmar, and only a full scale war would quench it now. Gorecleave had asked for the three members to gather back in the council chamber, so that he could grant them the rewards he promised. Ragnarok made his way to the chamber, still carrying his mighty battle, now laden with Horde blood. He instructed his guard to stay outside the building as he ventured inside.

As he entered, he was met by Gorecleave's cold stare, he now sat in Virdo's old chair, “Good. Now we can begin.” he said, as Ragnarok took to his seat.

Before he could continue, Ragnarok started talking, “When do I get my war? I want to kill me some Alliance scum!”

“Well, firstly, Arockalypse.” Replied Gorecleave, ignoring Ragnarok's interruption, “I have established a loyal group who will help you, and your brother Darchow, govern. You can delegate him to run Thunderbluff if you desire.”

Arockalypse nodded back to him in appreciation, before Ragnarok interrupted once again, “That's all well and good, but you promised me blood!”

Gorecleave carried on, “Belendor, for your services I bestow upon you great power, follow me outside after our meeting, and everything you have wanted shall be yours.”

The irate Ragnarok slammed his fist on the table, “Damnit, where's my war? I've sat here listening to you dribble on now and just want what I was promised. When do we march on Stormwind?”

Gorecleave finally acknowledged the warrior's pleas, his tone turned grim as he spoke “And now my friend, your war. I require a dock for my men. Those Alliance scum as you describe them did not take so well to my colleagues. We need to take the Alliance port of Theramore. Go there with the full force of the Horde, and you will have the reinforcements you desire.”

Ragnarok nodded and smiled. This was the moment he had waited for. Theramore was a small coastal city a few miles from Orgrimmar, its presence was permitted due to ancient agreements between the Alliance and the Horde. “It'll do, for now.” he replied.

After some brief discussions, everyone being happy with their rewards began to leave the chamber. Belendor waited outside for Gorecleave, eagerly awaiting whatever was in stock for him. As the shadowy knight left the building he directed Belendor over into the dusty depths of Orgrimmar. Belendor had not been this deep into the city before, it was cramped and dark, tattered Horde flags hung from the walls and wooden barricades blocked off paths. It appeared no one lived here, yet Belendor felt whispers of activity. It was there he channelled a short spell, ushering words Belendor did not understand and dust began to sweep away from their feet.

The Paladin took a step back as a glowing mirror rose from the ground in front of him, glowing with an eerie dark purple. The surface of the mirror seemed to move, as if it was fluid, almost like staring into a river. It was long and slender, around eight feet tall, Belendor looked around it only to see nothing on the other side, no substance. Cautiously, Belendor stepped into the doorway upon Gorecleave's instruction. He emerged from the other side, purple and red lines trickling around him. He felt stronger, more powerful. His armour still red and golden, but now began to darken. His eyes turned from their traditional green to a lustful red.

“Thank you” he told Gorecleave, clenching his fists, “Will there be more?” his thirst for power still running within his veins.

Gorecleave simply nodded towards the portal, Belendor looked back to see reflections of himself stepping out. Each one identical to the last, as the eight and final one left the purple doorway, it burrowed into the ground. The men in front of Belendor bowed to him.

“My final gift to you” Gorecleave told the shocked Paladin, “Go forth and rid us of any traitors, showcase your new powers to the world.”

Belendor nodded and walked to find a steed, his clones followed behind him. Meanwhile Ragnarok began to gather his troops, sending messages out to all outlying villages to send their men to fight. The Belendorian brigade was born, and the Horde prepared for war.
Last edited by Bluebell on 08 May 2015 00:38, edited 3 times in total.
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Wilcox
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Re: A story of TW

#89 » Post by Wilcox » 05 May 2015 20:59

yay. i get to mete out justice across truewow finally

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Lestata of Kraljevo
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Re: A story of TW

#90 » Post by Lestata of Kraljevo » 05 May 2015 22:23

Love it :)
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