((Now...))
The blood elf dived forward with a muttered curse, rolling behind a thick oak tree just moments before four arrows buried themselves deep into the thick trunk.
“Damn it,” he mumbled, before gathering himself up from the ground and leaning his back against the rough bark. A quick glance down showed him that his normally immaculate red robes were now stained with grass, mud and soot. His glowing green eyes narrowed in annoyance, a distasteful sneer curling across his lips as they took in the filth covered garments.
He leaned to the left slightly, attempting to peer around the side of the tree to get a better view of his attackers...and quickly snapped his head back as two more arrows whistled through the air where his head had been just a heartbeat before. One of the quarrels had caught the cloth of his hood, snapping his head forward again before tearing the fabric. He muttered out another curse, trying to figure a way out of his current predicament.
And that was when the boom of impossibly heavy steps echoed through the vale. And then another, growing louder as they grew closer. A creaking of branches, a rustling of leaves stirred the air…and another set of deep rumbles felt throguh the mossy earth. That could only mean one thing. An Ancient was approaching, and fast.
“This is not what I came here for,” he mumbled.
He had just wanted to seek out his old friend. Find some information on where he had gone after they had parted ways. So he came here to his friend's old hime, hoping to learn soemthing. Instead, he had walked into a slaughter. The village was gone, its remnants smoldering in the evening air.
The night elves had slaughtered the trolls of Shatterspear Vale.
Jafylas took a deep breath, steadying himself as he concentrated. His left hand made a gesture in the air, drawing forth the arcane power from the air around him, coalescing it into a shield. He stepped out from his cover, staff held in a white knuckled grip his right hand, prepared to meet his attackers.
Seeking the missing...((now semi-open))
Seeking the missing...((now semi-open))
Last edited by Jafylas on Thu Oct 06, 2011 4:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Seeking the missing...
((Years ago…))
“JAFFY!”
The voice boomed across the din of the crowded tavern. Though his back was to the door, Jafylas immediately knew to whom that heavily accented voice had belonged. With a sigh, he quickly set down his glass of Pinot Noir, and waited for what he knew would come next.
A few moments later, the mage felt himself being lifted roughly from his bench, his body enfolded in between steel covered arms, his back pressed against the rough metal of a battered plate breastplate as he was enfolded in a bear hug.
“Is gud t’see ya, mon!” The troll boomed loudly, the words slurred by his accent as much as his twin tusks. He continued to crush the elf to him like a rag doll.
“Let me down, you oaf!” The blood elf wheezed, his breath pushed from his lungs. The arms relaxed their grip, and Jafylas dropped unceremoniously to the wood floor. After taking a moment to straighten his crumpled robes, he settled back down to the bench at his table, picking up his glass and sipping the red wine.
The boisterous troll made a quick shout for ale and then moved to sit across from him, his armor clinking loudly as he did so. As they waited for the drink, he removed his helm from his head, exposing hisdisheveled red hair and his pale blue skin. A moment later he dropped his large blood stained axe on the table between them, its intricate dragon designs glinting in the firelight. Jafylas eyed it with distaste.
“You know I hate it when you bring that…thing to the table with you. Actually, it is almost as much as I hate it when you use that damnable affectation instead of my name, Dar.”
Darjiin blinked at the elf, his expression one of blank confusion. “Afec…aff..ect’ion? Wh’chu mean, mon?”
Jafylas sighed, ready to explain the word in smaller terms, when the troll’s eyes narrowed, his head cocked to the side as if listening. “Oh. Uh huh. Drax say ya mean ya name, mon.” He grinned. “We t’ink Jaffy gud name!” His hand waved over the axe at the word ‘we’.
“I wish you would stop talking as if that thing speaks to you. It does not, you know.” He knew the argument was worthless. The brute truly thought the killing blade talked to him, and no matter how many times the mage had tested it for any sort of arcane properties, it had always come to him as a normal, if ornate, weapon. Darjiin was insistent, though.
The troll’s shoulders rolled in a slight shrug. “Says you, mon. Drax, he speaks t' me. And 'e speaks gud.”
Another sigh escaped Jafylus, and he waved the statement away. “And what, pray tell, does Drax tell you now?” The sarcasm was heavy in his tone, but Darjiin did not seem to notice.
The troll's lips parted into a toothy smile around his tusks. “’e says 'e know where t’get smarts, anna powa. An' t'get gold. ‘e says ‘e know where…” Darjiin paused again, listening to whatever madness inhabited that small mind in his head. “El’tralas is.”
Glowing green eyes blinked in surprise. Jafylus leaned forward, his look intent. his words came out slow and clear, the kind of tone one would take with speaking to a child. “Dar, I need you to be perfectly clear with me now. We have travelled together some years now, and killed a lot of things." The troll grinned and nodded. "We’ve made good gold doing this, but I know you can get confused. Concentrate now. Did you say you know where to find Eldre’Thalas?” His tone was eager and hungry.
“No, mon,” the large troll replied after a moment as a serving orc put a mug down on the table in front of him. The mage slumped down at the statement, his hopes shattered. Darjiin took a long drink from his mug and belched. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his plated fist. “But Drax do.”
“Dammit, Dar! That cursed axe does not know any-“ The heated words stopped abruptly as the troll tossed a worn, leathern bound book on the table in front of his friend. “’e show me how t'get dere. We gone looked. Brought’cha dis.”
Jaylas hands trembled as he read the scrawled inscription on the cover of tome. It was the seal of Prince Tortheldrin.
“JAFFY!”
The voice boomed across the din of the crowded tavern. Though his back was to the door, Jafylas immediately knew to whom that heavily accented voice had belonged. With a sigh, he quickly set down his glass of Pinot Noir, and waited for what he knew would come next.
A few moments later, the mage felt himself being lifted roughly from his bench, his body enfolded in between steel covered arms, his back pressed against the rough metal of a battered plate breastplate as he was enfolded in a bear hug.
“Is gud t’see ya, mon!” The troll boomed loudly, the words slurred by his accent as much as his twin tusks. He continued to crush the elf to him like a rag doll.
“Let me down, you oaf!” The blood elf wheezed, his breath pushed from his lungs. The arms relaxed their grip, and Jafylas dropped unceremoniously to the wood floor. After taking a moment to straighten his crumpled robes, he settled back down to the bench at his table, picking up his glass and sipping the red wine.
The boisterous troll made a quick shout for ale and then moved to sit across from him, his armor clinking loudly as he did so. As they waited for the drink, he removed his helm from his head, exposing hisdisheveled red hair and his pale blue skin. A moment later he dropped his large blood stained axe on the table between them, its intricate dragon designs glinting in the firelight. Jafylas eyed it with distaste.
“You know I hate it when you bring that…thing to the table with you. Actually, it is almost as much as I hate it when you use that damnable affectation instead of my name, Dar.”
Darjiin blinked at the elf, his expression one of blank confusion. “Afec…aff..ect’ion? Wh’chu mean, mon?”
Jafylas sighed, ready to explain the word in smaller terms, when the troll’s eyes narrowed, his head cocked to the side as if listening. “Oh. Uh huh. Drax say ya mean ya name, mon.” He grinned. “We t’ink Jaffy gud name!” His hand waved over the axe at the word ‘we’.
“I wish you would stop talking as if that thing speaks to you. It does not, you know.” He knew the argument was worthless. The brute truly thought the killing blade talked to him, and no matter how many times the mage had tested it for any sort of arcane properties, it had always come to him as a normal, if ornate, weapon. Darjiin was insistent, though.
The troll’s shoulders rolled in a slight shrug. “Says you, mon. Drax, he speaks t' me. And 'e speaks gud.”
Another sigh escaped Jafylus, and he waved the statement away. “And what, pray tell, does Drax tell you now?” The sarcasm was heavy in his tone, but Darjiin did not seem to notice.
The troll's lips parted into a toothy smile around his tusks. “’e says 'e know where t’get smarts, anna powa. An' t'get gold. ‘e says ‘e know where…” Darjiin paused again, listening to whatever madness inhabited that small mind in his head. “El’tralas is.”
Glowing green eyes blinked in surprise. Jafylus leaned forward, his look intent. his words came out slow and clear, the kind of tone one would take with speaking to a child. “Dar, I need you to be perfectly clear with me now. We have travelled together some years now, and killed a lot of things." The troll grinned and nodded. "We’ve made good gold doing this, but I know you can get confused. Concentrate now. Did you say you know where to find Eldre’Thalas?” His tone was eager and hungry.
“No, mon,” the large troll replied after a moment as a serving orc put a mug down on the table in front of him. The mage slumped down at the statement, his hopes shattered. Darjiin took a long drink from his mug and belched. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his plated fist. “But Drax do.”
“Dammit, Dar! That cursed axe does not know any-“ The heated words stopped abruptly as the troll tossed a worn, leathern bound book on the table in front of his friend. “’e show me how t'get dere. We gone looked. Brought’cha dis.”
Jaylas hands trembled as he read the scrawled inscription on the cover of tome. It was the seal of Prince Tortheldrin.
Last edited by Jafylas on Thu Sep 29, 2011 9:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Seeking the missing...
((Just doing a story of the past of Jafylas and an old toon of mine that was here on TN for a while back in Vanilla. I will actually probably be bringing the warrior over here at a later date, wanted to do a good story to bring him back after a long while(I doubt anyone even remembers him, he was not around that long)...but I figured this would be a good way of my mage learning of the grim, and also a look into his past adventures and his own personal changes to what he is now))
Re: Seeking the missing...
(( less pausing more story-telling!))
Grisbault, Twice-Made.
The p, s, l, and t are silent, the screams are not.
The p, s, l, and t are silent, the screams are not.
Re: Seeking the missing...
((ha, sorry, it was slow in the office yesterday so I could get to it, a bit swamped today, I will get back to this soon!))
Re: Seeking the missing...
((Now....))
Jafylas panted as he sprinted through the trees. His left arm hung at his side, swaying back and forth with the momentum of his run. An arrow had buried itself in that shoulder over a thumb length deep, rendering the appendage useless. He reached up with his right arm and snapped the shaft, letting it fall to the ground. His hood had fallen back, revealing the angular features of his face…a face normally already so pale had taken on a sickly white pallor. His usually full black hair was pasted to the top of his skull, slick with blood and sweat.
A glance over his shoulder told him what he needed to know: that the war party was still on his trail. His brazen attack had caught them off guard, and it had cost them. Five still purple forms littered the forest floor behind him, and one of the walking trees stood still, its bark blacked as flames licked up its trunk. But it wasn’t enough.
Twice again that number were still following behind him, blurring through the shadows, falling in and out of focus. “Felling night elves,” he gasped. He needed a moment to rest, a moment to think. His right hand instinctively reached for his staff at his back as he ran, only to come back with nothing. He had left it behind in his flight, lying in the moss covered earth. Damn. He yanked out his small wand, pointing it behind him as his feet continued to carry him through the wooded gloom, and concentrated.
Nothing happened. Not good. He was too tired and too drained to bring forth any power, even with the wand's foci. He tried again, his face paling even more as his brow furrowed. The wand tip glowed, and a flash burst forth as he gasped in pain. Several yards behind him, the trunk of a thick oak exploded, causing it to tip and fall with a creaking crash.
His pursuers scattered for cover as the ancient tree fell, and the mage used the distraction to his advantage: he jumped into a thorn thicket and laid still.
His heart pounded as he laid there, its beat thudding in his chest and causing his temples to throb. Sparks floated before his eyes, tiny sunbursts as the world tipped and swayed around him. He knew he had expended too much of himself back in the vale, and he was paying for it now. He doubted he could light a candle at the moment, let alone defend himself. His body screamed for nourishment. With a soft grunt of pain, he moved to a crouch, thorns scraping across his skin and catching his tattered robes, and waited.
He did not have to wait long. The night elves were spread out and creeping through the underbrush now, bows held high and arrows knocked. Jafylas stayed perfectly still, watching. The damn bastards would just not give up. One stalked in front of his place of concealment, her pale purple skin seeming to phase back and forth from pale lavender to an opaque translucence. Shadowmelding bitch. No wonder he was not able to tell how many there were at first. He held his breath as she passed.
In a flash, his good arm snaked out, wrapping it around the female’s neck, forearm and bicep muscles clenching tightly, cutting off her windpipe. He pulled her into the ticket with him as she struggled to breath. “Shhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he whispered into her ear. He knew he could not hold her for long, he was too weak, and she would overpower him quickly. His green eyes glowed as he began to feed, drawing upon her own energy to replenish his.
The process was fast. An euphoria filled him. His pale cheeks flushed as he felt some renewed strength flow into his body. His head stopped pounding, and he could breathe easier. The spots stopped floating before his eyes. He had his moment of extacy. It was not much, but it would have to do. The night elf in his arm became pale as her struggling stilled, and her eyes closed. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “I needed that.” And then, he snapped her neck.
He knew that it was not enough, though. There were simply too many, and he was still too weak. He had to get out of here, and he had to find Dar. The thought of the troll sparked a memory in his mind, and a hope. Maybe he was not completely alone here. He reached into his robes, his hand falling upon a simple runed stone there. He hated asking for it, but he needed to do something if he was to get out of this mess alive. Time to see if those Grim truly lived up to their reputation for annihilation. He concentrated to the hearthstone, and sent out a single thought.
Help.
((Thought I would leave this portion open for fun and what not. I'll hop back to the past as well, and tell Jaf's and Dar's story as well, and tie it into the present as best I can))
Jafylas panted as he sprinted through the trees. His left arm hung at his side, swaying back and forth with the momentum of his run. An arrow had buried itself in that shoulder over a thumb length deep, rendering the appendage useless. He reached up with his right arm and snapped the shaft, letting it fall to the ground. His hood had fallen back, revealing the angular features of his face…a face normally already so pale had taken on a sickly white pallor. His usually full black hair was pasted to the top of his skull, slick with blood and sweat.
A glance over his shoulder told him what he needed to know: that the war party was still on his trail. His brazen attack had caught them off guard, and it had cost them. Five still purple forms littered the forest floor behind him, and one of the walking trees stood still, its bark blacked as flames licked up its trunk. But it wasn’t enough.
Twice again that number were still following behind him, blurring through the shadows, falling in and out of focus. “Felling night elves,” he gasped. He needed a moment to rest, a moment to think. His right hand instinctively reached for his staff at his back as he ran, only to come back with nothing. He had left it behind in his flight, lying in the moss covered earth. Damn. He yanked out his small wand, pointing it behind him as his feet continued to carry him through the wooded gloom, and concentrated.
Nothing happened. Not good. He was too tired and too drained to bring forth any power, even with the wand's foci. He tried again, his face paling even more as his brow furrowed. The wand tip glowed, and a flash burst forth as he gasped in pain. Several yards behind him, the trunk of a thick oak exploded, causing it to tip and fall with a creaking crash.
His pursuers scattered for cover as the ancient tree fell, and the mage used the distraction to his advantage: he jumped into a thorn thicket and laid still.
His heart pounded as he laid there, its beat thudding in his chest and causing his temples to throb. Sparks floated before his eyes, tiny sunbursts as the world tipped and swayed around him. He knew he had expended too much of himself back in the vale, and he was paying for it now. He doubted he could light a candle at the moment, let alone defend himself. His body screamed for nourishment. With a soft grunt of pain, he moved to a crouch, thorns scraping across his skin and catching his tattered robes, and waited.
He did not have to wait long. The night elves were spread out and creeping through the underbrush now, bows held high and arrows knocked. Jafylas stayed perfectly still, watching. The damn bastards would just not give up. One stalked in front of his place of concealment, her pale purple skin seeming to phase back and forth from pale lavender to an opaque translucence. Shadowmelding bitch. No wonder he was not able to tell how many there were at first. He held his breath as she passed.
In a flash, his good arm snaked out, wrapping it around the female’s neck, forearm and bicep muscles clenching tightly, cutting off her windpipe. He pulled her into the ticket with him as she struggled to breath. “Shhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he whispered into her ear. He knew he could not hold her for long, he was too weak, and she would overpower him quickly. His green eyes glowed as he began to feed, drawing upon her own energy to replenish his.
The process was fast. An euphoria filled him. His pale cheeks flushed as he felt some renewed strength flow into his body. His head stopped pounding, and he could breathe easier. The spots stopped floating before his eyes. He had his moment of extacy. It was not much, but it would have to do. The night elf in his arm became pale as her struggling stilled, and her eyes closed. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “I needed that.” And then, he snapped her neck.
He knew that it was not enough, though. There were simply too many, and he was still too weak. He had to get out of here, and he had to find Dar. The thought of the troll sparked a memory in his mind, and a hope. Maybe he was not completely alone here. He reached into his robes, his hand falling upon a simple runed stone there. He hated asking for it, but he needed to do something if he was to get out of this mess alive. Time to see if those Grim truly lived up to their reputation for annihilation. He concentrated to the hearthstone, and sent out a single thought.
Help.
((Thought I would leave this portion open for fun and what not. I'll hop back to the past as well, and tell Jaf's and Dar's story as well, and tie it into the present as best I can))
Last edited by Jafylas on Fri Oct 07, 2011 6:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Bloodscream
- Lost
- Posts: 625
Re: Seeking the missing...((now semi-open))
"Help"
That's all he heard over the din of battle.
Seeing as he was alone, he assumed it must have come from the stone.
"Pause" he commanded the view crystal and the replay of his last venture into the Firelands froze with a nice close up of Anaie with a demented look in her eye, stabbing a fire druid in the face.
He focused on the runestone he wore around his neck.
"This is Bloodscream. Situation and location?"
When people just said "help" it usually meant they were otherwise indisposed to a more verbose definition of whatever problem they were facing. Bloodscream didn't wait for an answer. He ran onto the vestment array.
"Battlegear" he said as the crystals and gems glowed in a dizzying pattern along the length of the device.
There was a short sharp "Zorp" and Blooscream stood ready for battle.
"Release the helicopter" he again commanded thin air.
Thin air appeared to be listening as he took three large steps onto a raised platform and the air on the platform shimmered as his helicopter unfolded from it's dimensional resting place.
He jumped into the helicopter and readied the controls for the dimensional ripper.
He waited.
That's all he heard over the din of battle.
Seeing as he was alone, he assumed it must have come from the stone.
"Pause" he commanded the view crystal and the replay of his last venture into the Firelands froze with a nice close up of Anaie with a demented look in her eye, stabbing a fire druid in the face.
He focused on the runestone he wore around his neck.
"This is Bloodscream. Situation and location?"
When people just said "help" it usually meant they were otherwise indisposed to a more verbose definition of whatever problem they were facing. Bloodscream didn't wait for an answer. He ran onto the vestment array.
"Battlegear" he said as the crystals and gems glowed in a dizzying pattern along the length of the device.
There was a short sharp "Zorp" and Blooscream stood ready for battle.
"Release the helicopter" he again commanded thin air.
Thin air appeared to be listening as he took three large steps onto a raised platform and the air on the platform shimmered as his helicopter unfolded from it's dimensional resting place.
He jumped into the helicopter and readied the controls for the dimensional ripper.
He waited.
Re: Seeking the missing...((now semi-open))
Ashenfury sat upon the Shrine of Dormant flame meditating as the gentle wind fed the embers of his power. A quiet voice said a single word through his hearthstone: 'help'. Ashenfury thought recognized the voice as Ryanica's supplicant the one that seems to anger Knithawk behind his mask of rotting smiles. Yes, it was certainly Jaylas he decided.
He held his worn smooth stone in his hand and attempted to be quiet (as quiet as the Orc could be, which isn't very) as he asked "Location, status, target?". He waited to hear a response before deciding if the Supplicant warranted his time.
He held his worn smooth stone in his hand and attempted to be quiet (as quiet as the Orc could be, which isn't very) as he asked "Location, status, target?". He waited to hear a response before deciding if the Supplicant warranted his time.
Re: Seeking the missing...((now semi-open))
Jafylas started suddenly as the two voices boomed in his ears. Or, at least they seemed to. Everything was always so much louder when you were trying to keep silent. He had hardly expected a single reply, let alone two. His voice came out a sibilant hiss as he breathed out a report.
"Shatterspear Vale...gone. The night elves...have killed everything. Too many for me too-"
The communication ended with a grunt as an arrow took him in his already useless left shoulder. New pain coursed like fire from the second wound. His right hand flashed up and his eyes narrowed as he tried to block out the pain. Purplish light flared from his fingertips, and his attacker did not stand a chance. A small explosive thunderclap echoed out from where the nightelf had fired, and it exploded in arcane light.
"Bas..bastard," Jafylas panted. His cover blown, he rolled from the thicket, more thorns tearing at his face, and he started to run. He managed to throw a shield up around himself before a flight of four more arrows could reach him. They exploded off in small flashes of light. More thunderous steps reverberated through the trees. More Ancients were on the way, it would seem. He ran as fast as he could, his stone laying in the dirt of the thicket where he had dropped it in his haste.
"Shatterspear Vale...gone. The night elves...have killed everything. Too many for me too-"
The communication ended with a grunt as an arrow took him in his already useless left shoulder. New pain coursed like fire from the second wound. His right hand flashed up and his eyes narrowed as he tried to block out the pain. Purplish light flared from his fingertips, and his attacker did not stand a chance. A small explosive thunderclap echoed out from where the nightelf had fired, and it exploded in arcane light.
"Bas..bastard," Jafylas panted. His cover blown, he rolled from the thicket, more thorns tearing at his face, and he started to run. He managed to throw a shield up around himself before a flight of four more arrows could reach him. They exploded off in small flashes of light. More thunderous steps reverberated through the trees. More Ancients were on the way, it would seem. He ran as fast as he could, his stone laying in the dirt of the thicket where he had dropped it in his haste.
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Bloodscream
- Lost
- Posts: 625
Re: Seeking the missing...((now semi-open))
Bloodscream heard the important words.
"Shatterspear Vale gone... Night elves."
He felt the rush of bloodlust wash over him as he snarled and furiously flipped switches and turned dials on the helicopter's panel.
The soothing voice of the automated assistant did little to calm him.
"Dimensional Ripper...Online. Coordinates accepted. Standby for dimensional incursion."
Bloodscream glanced over at the weapon systems, flipping a few more switches. The voice continued as the air around the helicopter started to shimmer and crackle.
"Bolt gun, online... Thermal Detonation charges are primed. All weapon systems report LOKTAR-OGAR.
"Supplies!" Bloodscream barked, having now decided he was angry with everything, including the helicopter and it's automated assistant.
"Pie hutch depleted. Code SKASH. There is no pie."
Bloodscream's eyes went wide. He considered leaping from the helicopter and making a mad dash for his stash.
The workshop froze in time. Steam that had been drifting from a nearby boiler hung expectantly in the air.
Everything started to take on a glassy sheen, then cracked in a mounting cacophony of crystaline creaks and cracks, ending in a shattering chorus as the world fell away like dust and exposed the chill Winterspring sky that had apparently been hiding behind it.
Bloodscream sat in the helicopter, eyes narrowed, an unwelcoming snarl on his lips.
"I have no pie" he told himself as if trying to accept and understand the enormity of it all.
"I have no pie" he repeated slamming his fist down onto the big red button and firing his thrusters.
He bolted off into the direction of Darkshore suddenly reminded there were elves there hunting a Grim. Elves that were DIRECTLY responsible for his having left without any pies.
He gnashed his teeth and snarled his verdict to the bracing winds of Winterpsring.
"son of a bitch must pay..."
"Shatterspear Vale gone... Night elves."
He felt the rush of bloodlust wash over him as he snarled and furiously flipped switches and turned dials on the helicopter's panel.
The soothing voice of the automated assistant did little to calm him.
"Dimensional Ripper...Online. Coordinates accepted. Standby for dimensional incursion."
Bloodscream glanced over at the weapon systems, flipping a few more switches. The voice continued as the air around the helicopter started to shimmer and crackle.
"Bolt gun, online... Thermal Detonation charges are primed. All weapon systems report LOKTAR-OGAR.
"Supplies!" Bloodscream barked, having now decided he was angry with everything, including the helicopter and it's automated assistant.
"Pie hutch depleted. Code SKASH. There is no pie."
Bloodscream's eyes went wide. He considered leaping from the helicopter and making a mad dash for his stash.
The workshop froze in time. Steam that had been drifting from a nearby boiler hung expectantly in the air.
Everything started to take on a glassy sheen, then cracked in a mounting cacophony of crystaline creaks and cracks, ending in a shattering chorus as the world fell away like dust and exposed the chill Winterspring sky that had apparently been hiding behind it.
Bloodscream sat in the helicopter, eyes narrowed, an unwelcoming snarl on his lips.
"I have no pie" he told himself as if trying to accept and understand the enormity of it all.
"I have no pie" he repeated slamming his fist down onto the big red button and firing his thrusters.
He bolted off into the direction of Darkshore suddenly reminded there were elves there hunting a Grim. Elves that were DIRECTLY responsible for his having left without any pies.
He gnashed his teeth and snarled his verdict to the bracing winds of Winterpsring.
"son of a bitch must pay..."
Re: Seeking the missing...((now semi-open))
((Sorry about taking so long with my next step here, work has been a hassle with making sure everythign is caught up before my trip this weekend. I will try to get soemthing out on this today))
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Bloodscream
- Lost
- Posts: 625
Re: Seeking the missing...((now semi-open))
((Your story, take as long as you require. Anyone unhappy with that can go hump a kodo.))
Re: Seeking the missing...((now semi-open))
((Years ago))
The rain had finally started to let up, changing from a crushing downpour into a hazy drizzle. A mist had formed in the ancient woods, obscuring anything in the distance and adding to the opressive gloom. A chill hung in the air, the last vestigaes of a cold winter finally releasing its grip on the forest. Feralas in the early spring was never pleasant.
Jafylas slouched down further into his soaked robes, the cowl of his hood pulled forward enough to obscure his features, offering some protection from the falling water. The wet cloth clung to his clammy skin, and his teeth chattered involuntarily. He was miserable.
"Dar, we have been at this for days now. Just admit it: you got us lost in these damned woods!" He swung his staff at a giant tree as they passed for emphasis. The wood met the ten foot thick trunk with a loud thunk.
The troll in front of him looked back over his shoulder as he walked and grinned at his companion. "Naw, Jafy-mon, me'sa know were t'go. Gunna be t'ere soon, mon." He let out a throaty chuckle as he turned his head back to watch the forest ahead of him, drops of water running in tiny rivuletes down his steel plate.
Jafylas muttered a curse under his breath. He did not think the warrior had the brains to be uncomfortable. He might even be enjoying this trudge through the wilds. Damned troll and his lost cities. Absently he reached out as a small mana wyrm floated by. The creature was young, and barely 4 inches long. At his touch, it flinched, and its inner magic flowed into the elf, giving him a brief thrill and a moment of warmth. And then it was gone, and the thing fell to the earth, dead. He sighed. If it was not for that fel cursed book, he could be back at his home, studying, and more importantly...dry.
The book. It was the only thing that gave him the strength to put one foot in front of the other now. Darjiin had tossed it so casually on the table in front of him that night at the inn a few weeks ago. Since then, it's pages had consumed the mage. The contents within its bindings were nothing special. He had read it more than a dozen times. Front to back, back to front, even sideways. He had it commited to memory. A simple day to day ledger, really. An inventory of components, monies, and other simple things at any library. But the owner of that book. That was what was important. Prince Tortheldrin, leader of the lost city of Eldre'Thalas.
The prince was said to be powerful leader in his own right, and his library was the stuff of legends. It was also said he went mad after the destruction of the Well of Eternity, absorbing fel energy from demons in a mad attempt at power and had eventually turned on his own people. The city had been lost thousands of years ago. If the troll had found it, Jafylas was willing to march through any number of hells to get there for a glimpse at any of those lost tomes. The power they might contain.....his eyes gleamed at the thought of it, and he supressed a rising giddiness with a shudder.
The move simply shifted his robes around him, causing him to shiver. His revelery shattered, the bloodelf sighed and continued his march behind his friend. The troll suddenly stopped short and raised his gaunleted hand, clenching it to a fist. Jafylas had worked with him enough to know what the signal meant: "Stop...silence" the mage froze and gripped his staff tighter, peering arounfd his friedn and into the mists ahead.
Darjiin crouched slowly, and pulled forth his double bladed axe from its resting place between his shoulders. A quick nod of the troll's head motioned the elf forward. The blood elf quickly crouched and moved up beside his companion.
Before them the mossy forest floor dropped away into a deep embankment. The hill could be hiked, but it would be tricky on the damp earth and through the bushes, fallen leaves, and wet grass. The trees thinned on the hill, and the embankment opened into a wide, bowl shaped valley. Jafylas squinted through the fog, making out filmy shadows, large enough to be immense buildings, centered in the bottom of the bowl. They were to far off, and to obstructed by the grey mist to really make out much detail. Large , vague shapes could be seen moving down there. Here and there was the twinkling of different campfires.
"Ogres," the troll whispered, nodding down at the ruins. "Dey live t'ere now, mon. Dere in El’tralas. Dey've takun it ova, mon. But Drax say dey dun know what it is. Dey name it sumthin' else." Darjiin shifted the axe in his hand a bit, ear cocked and listening. Jafylas turned his head towards the troll, glowing green eyes watching him as he listened the voice in his head.
Darjiin nodded suddenly. "Ah..'E say t'ey call it Dire Maul."
The rain had finally started to let up, changing from a crushing downpour into a hazy drizzle. A mist had formed in the ancient woods, obscuring anything in the distance and adding to the opressive gloom. A chill hung in the air, the last vestigaes of a cold winter finally releasing its grip on the forest. Feralas in the early spring was never pleasant.
Jafylas slouched down further into his soaked robes, the cowl of his hood pulled forward enough to obscure his features, offering some protection from the falling water. The wet cloth clung to his clammy skin, and his teeth chattered involuntarily. He was miserable.
"Dar, we have been at this for days now. Just admit it: you got us lost in these damned woods!" He swung his staff at a giant tree as they passed for emphasis. The wood met the ten foot thick trunk with a loud thunk.
The troll in front of him looked back over his shoulder as he walked and grinned at his companion. "Naw, Jafy-mon, me'sa know were t'go. Gunna be t'ere soon, mon." He let out a throaty chuckle as he turned his head back to watch the forest ahead of him, drops of water running in tiny rivuletes down his steel plate.
Jafylas muttered a curse under his breath. He did not think the warrior had the brains to be uncomfortable. He might even be enjoying this trudge through the wilds. Damned troll and his lost cities. Absently he reached out as a small mana wyrm floated by. The creature was young, and barely 4 inches long. At his touch, it flinched, and its inner magic flowed into the elf, giving him a brief thrill and a moment of warmth. And then it was gone, and the thing fell to the earth, dead. He sighed. If it was not for that fel cursed book, he could be back at his home, studying, and more importantly...dry.
The book. It was the only thing that gave him the strength to put one foot in front of the other now. Darjiin had tossed it so casually on the table in front of him that night at the inn a few weeks ago. Since then, it's pages had consumed the mage. The contents within its bindings were nothing special. He had read it more than a dozen times. Front to back, back to front, even sideways. He had it commited to memory. A simple day to day ledger, really. An inventory of components, monies, and other simple things at any library. But the owner of that book. That was what was important. Prince Tortheldrin, leader of the lost city of Eldre'Thalas.
The prince was said to be powerful leader in his own right, and his library was the stuff of legends. It was also said he went mad after the destruction of the Well of Eternity, absorbing fel energy from demons in a mad attempt at power and had eventually turned on his own people. The city had been lost thousands of years ago. If the troll had found it, Jafylas was willing to march through any number of hells to get there for a glimpse at any of those lost tomes. The power they might contain.....his eyes gleamed at the thought of it, and he supressed a rising giddiness with a shudder.
The move simply shifted his robes around him, causing him to shiver. His revelery shattered, the bloodelf sighed and continued his march behind his friend. The troll suddenly stopped short and raised his gaunleted hand, clenching it to a fist. Jafylas had worked with him enough to know what the signal meant: "Stop...silence" the mage froze and gripped his staff tighter, peering arounfd his friedn and into the mists ahead.
Darjiin crouched slowly, and pulled forth his double bladed axe from its resting place between his shoulders. A quick nod of the troll's head motioned the elf forward. The blood elf quickly crouched and moved up beside his companion.
Before them the mossy forest floor dropped away into a deep embankment. The hill could be hiked, but it would be tricky on the damp earth and through the bushes, fallen leaves, and wet grass. The trees thinned on the hill, and the embankment opened into a wide, bowl shaped valley. Jafylas squinted through the fog, making out filmy shadows, large enough to be immense buildings, centered in the bottom of the bowl. They were to far off, and to obstructed by the grey mist to really make out much detail. Large , vague shapes could be seen moving down there. Here and there was the twinkling of different campfires.
"Ogres," the troll whispered, nodding down at the ruins. "Dey live t'ere now, mon. Dere in El’tralas. Dey've takun it ova, mon. But Drax say dey dun know what it is. Dey name it sumthin' else." Darjiin shifted the axe in his hand a bit, ear cocked and listening. Jafylas turned his head towards the troll, glowing green eyes watching him as he listened the voice in his head.
Darjiin nodded suddenly. "Ah..'E say t'ey call it Dire Maul."
-
Bloodscream
- Lost
- Posts: 625
Re: Seeking the missing...((now semi-open))
Bloodscream's helicopter came in over the mountains that seperated Hyjal from Darkshore.
He hugged the mountainside as Auberdine came into view in the distance. Surely Jaf wasn't in Auberdine
but news travelled fast and he needed both a distraction and to create a reason to move away from Jafylas.
The Auberdine guards heard the noise long before they saw the helicopter. The Horde hardly had the patent
on helicopters so the noise in and of itself did not alarm the guards.
Bloodscream came screaming out of the treeline and while the guards might not have known who he was they knew
an Orc when they saw one. They guards quickly tried to produce bows but at the speeds Bloodscream was moving,
it was an excercise in futility.
Bloodscream waited until about a second before he passed over the city to flip the switch on the panel that opened the bomb bay doors.
"Todays weather calls for a high chance of thermal detonators" Bloodscream declared casually as he banked left and flew over the dwellings lengthwise,
a steady rain of thermal charges falling in his wake. He saw the elves below scattering, he heard gunshots, saw a few arrows, then the drum roll started.
Explosion after explosion rocked Auberdine. Panic and confusion gripped the streets as elves ran in different directions trying to avoid the shattered pieces of buildings whipping through the air.
He heard a beep and his goggles flashed the results of his scans. Four of the guards had taken to the skies on their blue chickens.
Bloodscream chuckled. It would be a cold day in the Firelands before his helicopter was caught by an elven chicken.
"I do believe I have their attention..." he mumbled to himself as he raced off along the coast in search of Jafylas.
He hugged the mountainside as Auberdine came into view in the distance. Surely Jaf wasn't in Auberdine
but news travelled fast and he needed both a distraction and to create a reason to move away from Jafylas.
The Auberdine guards heard the noise long before they saw the helicopter. The Horde hardly had the patent
on helicopters so the noise in and of itself did not alarm the guards.
Bloodscream came screaming out of the treeline and while the guards might not have known who he was they knew
an Orc when they saw one. They guards quickly tried to produce bows but at the speeds Bloodscream was moving,
it was an excercise in futility.
Bloodscream waited until about a second before he passed over the city to flip the switch on the panel that opened the bomb bay doors.
"Todays weather calls for a high chance of thermal detonators" Bloodscream declared casually as he banked left and flew over the dwellings lengthwise,
a steady rain of thermal charges falling in his wake. He saw the elves below scattering, he heard gunshots, saw a few arrows, then the drum roll started.
Explosion after explosion rocked Auberdine. Panic and confusion gripped the streets as elves ran in different directions trying to avoid the shattered pieces of buildings whipping through the air.
He heard a beep and his goggles flashed the results of his scans. Four of the guards had taken to the skies on their blue chickens.
Bloodscream chuckled. It would be a cold day in the Firelands before his helicopter was caught by an elven chicken.
"I do believe I have their attention..." he mumbled to himself as he raced off along the coast in search of Jafylas.