Grim Views

Chronicles of the Forgotten Watch: Awakening

Rigid talons traced carved figures in the stone. Memories of an age long passed... or perhaps not? Who was to say how the winds of time had worn upon the stone while grevious injury slept away millenia. Sacrifice, for the cause. Had it succeeded? The stroke was clean and true, but the fallout was brutal and all-encompassing. None escaped it, but maybe one. This one.

A trace reminder of a time long passed. Whispers of the Forgotten Watch, of a sanctuary long hidden from the world, shattered by nothing more than time. A symbol with no meaning. Memories of brotherhood; mere threads left of a tapestry once woven so intricately that only the seamstress new its weave and way. Forgotten. How quaint.

"Back into the shadows again.", spoke the figure. Indeed, from the shadows he came, and belonged, and to them, he would return. The work was never done, with ancient allies or no. Perhaps they would be found. Perhaps a few had survived. Too true was it that their numbers were always 'few', but perhaps... just perhaps.

Maybe it was time again to revel in 'life', as it were, or rather, to revel in the form his oaths had made him. Strange it was to see so many in similar skins, rotting at the joints, and further, to the depths of their mind. Mindless zombies mocking his craft. They were but cattle, milling about with aimless purpose but for their master. He had seen it before.

But to whom do these slaves walk for? Why do they stumble in mockery of life? They have had no purpose like he, nor his brethren. Their minds were not sharp, their skills perfected, like his and his kind. Far more ancient was the Watch. Far and beyond ancient; watchers of time before there was concept of time. But no more.

Tossing the stone aside, the figure rose. A peculiar thump to the ground, and a groan from fetid lips, brought a creature from sight. Kraask was a bulky beast. He once could swim the earth, muchlike his natural kind swam the seas, but it was no longer. Kraask was old now. Slow perhaps, but atleast it would keep him off his feet.

Chronicles of the Forgotten Watch: Fel's Return

Quzrin ran about in a circle, padding the ground softly with his tiny hands. Before him stood the great portal... The Dark Portal, as his master called it. "Big... scary too", thought the imp, "big scary misty thing". Quzrin did not know what his master was here for, but already did not like it. He had been on too many of these ventures, to dark and scary places all over Azeroth and other places Quzrin did not know. Quzrin did not like scary places, because he always got hurt in them. Even if Quzrin did very good!, Master still beat Quzrin. Quzrin no like Master. Master is mean and cruel and wicked and... mean!, but Quzrin not say that. Quzrin say that once and got hurt very bad. Anna even hurt Quzrin. Quzrin no like Anna either. Master sleep with Anna, but Quzrin know that Anna real master. Stupid succubus. Quzrin hate succubus. Succubus like whip. Quzrin hate whip.

"Quzrin! Quit fidgeting around. Can't you see beyond that beak of a nose? We have business to attend to. It is time to return to the folds, and begin harvesting the seeds we had sewn so long ago. Surely you remember? Or will Anna need to explain it to you again?" To this, the orc chuckled wickedly, a low gravelly sound, wrought with delight.

'Quzrin no like Master, but no like beating more! Quzrin listen! Quzrin be good and Master not hurt Quzrin', thought the imp, but his reply was much more submissive. "I think nothing Master but for you. Master no need Anna. Quzrin listen and do good for Master."

"Enough. It is time. Bring my things, Quzrin. Azeroth awaits, and the souls of our sworn will be bent to our will once more. Time does weaken the bond, but we will reinforce it. The Legion will be pleased with my offerings. I will rise to great power with them, and may one day release you, should you serve well."

With this, the two climbed the stairs to the great portal, entering through and into Azeroth once more. Indeed, time has passed, and the influences of this one have waned significantly until now. It is time.

Chronicles of the Forgotten Watch: The Staff and Blossom

A sliver of green fire slowly lit upon the face of Aleryn Dast. It was resting time, but Grink Greaseypaws had left a missive upon the solitary table propped in the corner of the small aclove. Slowly rising from his rest, the figure pondered upon a message in such a dark hour of the night. Grink always thought himself a sneak, but since his first venture into the aclove, he had learned the importance of discretion. It was no petty writing that rest upon the table, Aleryn was certain.

Walking over, Aleryn noted the parchment was suprisingly free of the tell-tale smudges Grink always left upon his deliveries. More proof that this note held some import... and as he was not expecting any missives, Aleryn was a bit reluctant to open and receive what tale it may hold. Aye, suprises have been abound in the journeys such letters had left him before... but this was a different Azeroth now. Perhaps there was no need to be so cautious, or perhaps more. It was time to find out, he thought.

Taking letter in hand, Aleryn noted the seal, that of the High Inquisitor, Staff crossed with the blossom of a Fel Lotus. Fitting, he thought. Aleryn broke the seal, and began to read. A smile broke the normally solemn face, something Aleryn was still getting used to. No time for smiles in the past. No... too many in harms way in the past. More heroes in this Azeroth, though their skill pales to what once was.

But the smiles do not last forever, as this one slowly returned to solemnity. The words within gave the watchman much to contemplate. He was... changing, and he felt there was still much to learn about these emotions that were so strange to him. There was nothing but the Watch, and with out it he knew there would be a new purpose, one that he must find within himself.

Aleryn stood at the entrance to his aclove, with the letter in hand. He would find for himself what purpose he had. He would learn what his thoughts meant, but for now, it was time to become lost in the hunt again.

The letter slowly drifted to the ground as he called for Kraask. It was time to ride an old friend and decide what this all meant.