Tag: Horde x 12

I can hear them coming. Their hooves striking the ground. It echoes, makes it seem like more than one of them are there. But its just the one. Dark skin and reeking of death. And eyes that just seem to burn into you. And as its walking by me, it stops and starts looking. Like it knows I’m there. But I know it can’t.

I’m covered in mud from that Light forsaken place. Camouflage. I hate it. It stinks of fel. It itches. All I want to do is scratch at it, to wipe it off. But I can’t because then the monster will know where I am. So I lay still, pressing against the hill. it can’t see me. Or can it?

The demon steps closer to me. Another step and it’d be right on top of me. I fight the urge to move my leg out of its way. The...

It’s been a very long time since I’ve had to actively consider my mortality. Standing in a walled pit with a knife that might have well have been a short sword in my hand, shackles still on my wrists, a myriad of Vrykul runes burned into my skin preventing me from accessing my magic, and staring down a very angry Shoveltusk apparently triggers that in me. 

This didn’t strike me as a particularly survivable situation; I was out of it and trapped. The Vrykul had spent time riling the bull up before putting him between me and the gates. I was going to do my level best. In theory there were people waiting on me and wondering where the fuck I was. 

Honestly, the whole thing went on too long. The thunderous yells and jeers of the...

Everything was the bad kind of fuzzy when I finally came to again. My shoulders burned fiercely and it didn’t seem like I could feel my hands. I’d upgraded prisons from a cage to a straw lined floor in a single outbuilding. Flaming sconces lined the wooden walls. I’d seen places like this burn down in less than an hour and panic set in. 

There was no fleeing, though. My arms were bound by shackle and chain to either side of the narrow space. I didn’t know how long I’d been like that, but I still felt drained. My fingers felt too thick as I went to move them and pain shot through my arms. Angry, red runes had been burned into the backs and palms. I couldn’t draw any magic to heal them. The panic rose. 

Hours passed, I...

Running is one of my favorite things. 

There’s a thrill in it, my blood sings as my feet pound the dirt and I vault over fallen branches and tumbled rocks. I waited until things got quiet to go and I just ran. Well, that’s not entirely true, I paused for a moment to free a throwing axe where it had been left in a tree (honestly it’s big enough to be held with two hands, but great axes have always been my favorite weapon), and then I ran. 

It seemed like most of them had gone up to the longhouse, everything else was fairly deserted and the sun was going down. In retrospect I should’ve ditched my cloak, but I didn’t. Sentimentality was slowing me down. Horns started to sound about five minutes into my flight. Then...

The walls were thin here, out in the middle of Durotar, and they smelled like rust and sweat. I wasn’t sure if the metal I was smelling was from the thin sheet-metal that they used for the walls of the temporary warehouse-arena, or from the blood that had probably wafted from the ring.

The crowd outside the small room I was in was like a dull thunder, something that reverberated hard off the walls. It was something I could feel in my bones. It was something primal, I think, something that played to the animal inside everyone. All of the chanting, all of the roaring, all of the percussion of stomping feet. There was something written inside us that responded to the violence of fanfare.

I tried to tune it out.

Artennis’s father...

“I am Sin’dorei. I fight for my people and stand defending our lands against all threats.”

Rumors spread of deserters like ashes flying from the smoldering trunk. Though the Horde’s victory cry was loudly proclaimed across the continent, the cries of terror among many of its allies echoes through the ranks; some stripped themselves of their Horde regula and left.

“Traitors,” muttered an Orc ranger beside Captain Brightsinger. “The rear guard will take care of them. You can’t abandon the Horde and expect to live free.”

Moriurya Brightsinger did not respond, but her silence seemed enough for the Orc, whom grunted and moved on towards some similarly armored Orcs not to far away. They had advanced together during the...

“That order. Of all orders, that one will haunt me for the rest of my life. I knew we were marching for Teldrassil; that was obvious from the moment we had finished taking over Astranaar. When an army is on the move to take over land, you don’t stop before the big prize. The destruction of these ancient forests was painful to be a part of, but I’m just a Captain in the Farstrider ranks, and not the forward march; we were more like a scouting detail and later a cleaning crew. 

Details of why each order was given, of what exactly happened at the front, were merely rumors through the vine. I don’t know why we set the Tree aflame, but it fits the general advancement of our lines. We were not there to overrun politically, we were...

Dusk rolled over into nightfall, and a lone hunter strode through the ashen forest, head bowed and back straight, his hand curled against the smooth, hard shoulder of a sturdy, young gelding. The dark horse made not a sound, save for the steady huffs of breath gradually growing visible in the cool, evening air, and the steady grind of each of their footfalls in the dead leaves through which they walked. The hunter, likewise, moved in a seeming silence that was really only skin-deep.

Brittle bones left behind. That’s what they were. At one time, he knew, they were bright and golden, flecked with red, like those that had thrived out in the gilded acres of Eversong for as far back as he could remember. But everything dies, one way or...

My Story in Full

Prior to his birth, Vraul had taken quite a toll on his mother, who was constantly dehydrated and required constant attention through the second half of her pregnancy. While his mother barely survived the event, Vraul was nonetheless born a healthy child within a Nagrand village near the tremendous Oshu'gun mountain to Soran and Grima Jawrip. He was a rather large infant compared to the usual orc, but what certainly caught his parents' attention was the clarity of Vraul's eyes. Like milky eggs they were, complimented by large, dark pupils, which stared at his parents endlessly, curious of the figures that had brought him into the world.

Vraul's development was rather slow at first, as...

Warlocks have little formal rules governing how they use their powers. They are more secretive about their demons and fel magics because of the suspicions and scorn heaped upon them by their peers. The Horde was more accepting of my kind and their demons yet I am moving to the Alliance and may need a cover job now that my Mistress Selerra shall not be there to protect me? Without Miss Sorrowsong's guidance, and in new lands, I must conceal my practices from the humans, dwarves, Draenei and all of the Alliance. Summoning demons and demonesses gives me such a rush... knowing that I command a being that could swap its soul into a new body from the Twisting Nether, or control her enemies' minds with Charm spells or turn invisible or fling...

((****WARNING: Violence, torture, blood and gore. Sensitive themes as well!****))

Originally posted by trappixi

The slow patter of rain sounded hard against the brittle remains of the awnings, riding on every gust of wind.

Drip-drip, drip-drip.

Sheltered just barely within the skeletal remains of the ramshackle cottage, a lone silhouette moved in a slow, steady pace, loose-limbed and glinting metal each time he stepped through the lone light-source.

It wasn’t a typical place for him, though it had its own appeal. Situated far from Silvermoon, it lay off the few beaten paths that remained where the weathermancers’ magic no longer reached, in the charred heart of the Blackened Wood; a damp, dark space that only just supported the...