|WoW Petopia Community
|30 Day Site Write Challenge
|Page 3 of 3|
|Author:||Ashaine [ Sat Oct 07, 2017 12:24 am ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
Entry #5 - Fear
((It's my 10 year Anniversary weekend. So I'm reserving this spot to fill in later. I promise to catch up after. ♥ ))
|Author:||Death_Dino420 [ Sat Oct 07, 2017 2:20 am ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
Entry #6 - Elkin - Pact
Elkin had never been around cities much. He really, in fact, hated them. And he was going to his least favorite place of all- the tavern. He sighed, accompanied by one of his beasts that dared follow him to such a wretched place (to him, at least). One of his wolves, Ogden. The beast bore beautiful fur, being mixed with all sorts of different colors that well complemented him. Amber, gold, a bit of light orange, maybe some brown here and there. He was also pretty annoyed by all of the people and the musky scent of alcohol, but hid it for now. The two had been drawn out of the wilds to search for Colborn Wolfmana, Elkin's new teacher. He was teaching the youngling the ways of a mage. However, he'd been gone for awhile now, so Elkin went looking.
His attention was directed to a bunch of shouting. He tried to look over the crowd, but he was at a disadvantage with his height. He grumbled as he couldn't see a thing, only able to listen to what was being said. A raspy, old voice was rambling on about people making pacts with the Legion in return for power or anything else of much value. The man then yelled at somebody else, claiming they had made such a deal. Elkin scoffed at this nonsense, knowing Colborn wouldn't be anywhere near. So, he returned to the wilds for now, leaving the crazed man and the other fools who actually believed him.
As he continued walking, though, Elkin's mind started to wander to other thoughts. Mostly concerning the matter. "What if I made a deal like that?" he wondered, scratching his head. He decided to stop for a moment and sit down, daring not to move while lost in his mind, or he'd probably hurt himself. What ever would convince him to strike a deal with the Legion in the first place? Actually.. it wasn't so hard for him to think about. He didn't quite enjoy his life at the time, and not like it'd hurt to join what he though, so far, was the "winning team." His pets wouldn't have to go, either, and he wouldn't loose any friends because quite frankly- he had none.
A demon worgen. Such a thing probably doesn't exist. He somewhat marveled at the idea of being heftier, spikey, and demonic. He'd probably join the Legion on a whim, but he definitely wouldn't pass up an opportunity to get exactly what he wanted at the same time. The first thing that came to mind, and almost always does, was the resurrection of Ursot, and the rest of his fallen companions. He'd never been so distressed in his life, so depressed and desiring death than he was after they fell. He had tried to move on.. which only worked a little bit. He did enjoy the time with the rest of his pets, but they, too, were still saddened over the losses. A lot who died were close to the ones left. Some were mates, some best friends... Elkin hated thinking about it, but that's what he would do.
Suddenly, he was revolted by the fact he was actually contemplating this. He had witnessed demonic corruption first hand, and how ugly the demons on the isles were already. It was his constant need for power and having the upper-hand that shrouded him these moments, and he knew it. If he ever made a deal with anyone, it would be to guide him back into the light. He wouldn't be putting his animals in so much danger and make the same mistakes that killed many of them, or being such a malefic child to begin with. His gaze peered upwards into the sky, arms over his legs as he huddled against Ogden. The wolf licked his cheek and lay next to him, perfectly content by just laying here with his master. Elkin fell into a deep slumber, pillowing his head on the wolf, and the thoughts of making a demonic pact gone...
|Author:||Kayro [ Sat Oct 07, 2017 8:27 am ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
6. PACT - An old man in a tavern screeches about deals people make with the Burning Legion to grant them 'powers'. He turns to someone and accuses them of making such a pact. While it is easy to dismiss the old fool, your character wonders about something. If given the chance to make an exchange with a demon, what would they ask for and what would they give up to have it?
With the threat of the Burning Legion looming ever closer, and the ever-prominent shape of Argus hovering in their sky as a reminder of the danger they faced, old fools were becoming more numerous. They'd be in taverns and wait until everyone was drunk and full before they'd begin sprouting their nonsense. Tales and fantasies of heroic adventurers falling prey to the influence of the Burning Legion after false promises of unbridled power were whispered into their ear and shaped to a twisted perfection.
"Betrayer! Betrayer! You've sided with them, I can see it! In your eye! Demon! Demon!"
The uproar had begun suddenly and without warning. It seemed the old man had had way too much to drink, and was now pointing and wavering at some warlock who had walked in at the wrong time. Warlocks were shifty folks in general, but not all held complete malice within their hearts. Yet, for this one, the old man had been entirely convinced they'd sided with the Burning Legion. He'd even grown aggressive, and had been ready to smack the warlock one.
Then bouncers had come in and taken the man away, and the crowd, upon losing their entertainment, had dispersed. People were muttering about the old man they had seen and heard from, and some were more than ready to gossip to any passerby they saw. Others had come out quiet; contemplative. It was easy to dismiss the old man for a drunken fool, perhaps remorseful for someone he had lost. Whatever his reason, for some, his words had lingered longer than they were welcome to.
One particular figure, who had been at the back and thankfully ignored throughout the ruckus, had slunk out shortly after the man had been taken away, and had quickly headed to the stable to return to their horse.
Clawed paws and a wolfish face were soft and gentle as Karo greeted her horse, and there was an unmatched fondness in her eye. Usually, a Worgen would have been a prime target for drunk people to claim that they were 'demons in disguise' and had 'made a pact' to be able to switch between their old and much newer forms so readily. Those who either were Worgen or took any time to know the Worgen knew that this wasn't the case, and Karo was thankful that the old man hadn't turned on her in his drunken stupor and claimed that she was one of the betrayers who had heralded the coming of Argus.
Yet, he had made her think. Raised by Sentinels and taught to respect all life by the Druids, Karo could never imagine going against her teachings under the false promises of power. But fear and desire made people do things they'd never normally consider, and Karo knew she wasn't any exception. Everyone had something that would make them snap, eventually. Everyone had their boundaries. Karo knew hers, and she knew her desires.
Travelling on all fours and hunting like an animal had many advantages, but many disadvantages. Power and strength unattainable to her before were now a simple thing. Through her curse, she had made friends and a family she hadn't had before. A kind Night Elf hunter, seemingly retired, had taken the Worgen in when she'd moved to their city above. He'd taught her and it was because of him that she'd become a Sentinel in the first place. But a Worgen was no Night Elf, and the denizens that she would protect would sometimes turn on her. She'd be given shifts away from the people, perhaps not be given shifts at all, and children who knew no better would point and stare at her as she passed by.
For Karo, normality was what she desired. The Worgen curse was just that to her. No more would she ever be the happy, content human she who'd been before. The change was irreversible, but Karo had no doubt that the Burning Legion could offer her something to at least help her. Perhaps they couldn't undo the Worgen curse, but she knew that they could change the form of someone completely. She'd never be human again, but.. She was already a monster, right? At least with them, she might fit in under the common title of 'demon'. Still, there was a price for everything.
Everything she knew, everyone she knew, would hate her. Perhaps in the flow of battle she'd see old friends and companions, and perhaps she would turn upon them without a second thought. Her self restraint was a prized trait that she had, and the Burning Legion would completely take that away from her. With them, she would slaughter everyone she knew and be hungry for more. The price for not being herself would be to give up herself entirely; and the thought of that made her feel sick. Yet.. Her gaze fell to her claws, her fur, and her paws. She wasn't normal like this, either. At least the Burning Legion would take away that aspect of her.
Karo then gritted her teeth, growled, and shook her head viciously to try and dislodge the thoughts. At least as a Worgen she could fight for good. The Burning Legion was nothing good at all. Her morals were more important to her than that, and she knew that she would rather die than serve the Legion.
Still.. As she mounted her horse and urged the stallion on, the thought didn't leave her mind, and the Worgen cocked her head to gaze up at Argus. Demons were always said to be closer to home than ever thought, and now the demons were right above them. And, if what the old man had said was true, they were amongst them now; hidden in plain sight. It would be easy to succumb to the devilish whispers if they came from the right mouth.
|Author:||Alex [ Sat Oct 07, 2017 10:17 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
((My internet has been screwing up something fierce on my laptop, so I've fallen behind on the prompts I'll try to catch up as best as possible, but whether or not I'm actually able to post them is gonna be another issue.))
|Author:||Death_Dino420 [ Sun Oct 08, 2017 1:08 am ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
Entry #7 - Sarnor - Heirloom
The most recent conversation between Sarnor and a couple of friends in Teldrassil had gotten stuck in their head. They had, most mistakenly, mentioned the two's family. They quite enjoyed that Eunchi, the pandaren, and Andridan, the kaldorei-worgen were open enough to answer their inquiries- however, they should've known questions would be asked in return. Sarnor had been forced to revise their memories of their family and tell the two about it. Dovia and Gryffus, their mother and father- both green dragons, as they were. They were completely aware that they were a dragon but had hidden it for so long.. they felt it wasn't quite apart of them anymore. Their fingers wandered towards the satchel along their belt, a small, green pouch with a dragon insignia on it. The druid recalled that their mother had given it to them, filled with seeds from their favorite tree that would be dying soon at the time.
It was such a beautiful tree, akin to one in Pandaria. Pristine pink blossoms would grow on it, and the bark was a soft brown color.. not to mention the feeling of it was rather velvety. The water surrounding it was a clear, light blue, and would make for a nice drink. Sarnor found themself longing to be back in the past, as they often did, but this time it was back when they actually had family. Their memories began to grow much more comprehensible. They would rest under the tree as a young whelp, and draw in the soil and grass around it, collecting the flowers that happened to fall from it. They'd go to it when feeling sad and alone, and if the tree wasn't such a consoling presence, their parents were. Life with family was relatively peaceful, and now the druid could exactly remember how they came upon the heirloom of the seeds in the first place.
They were becoming depressed as the tree was beginning to wilt and die. Their parents knew this, and Dovia had retrieved seeds from the flowers and the tree to ensure it could live on. She approached her child that night and offered them the pouch, attaching it to their trusty new belt. "In time, you may plant these seeds yourself, and you shall see your beloved tree again." she had said. Ah.. their mother's voice. So sweet, yet intimidating when it needed to be. With a hum, Sarnor began walked outside of their den and dug into the dirt. After all, being a worgen made it fairly easy to make holes in the ground. When it seemed to be perfect enough, Sarnor reached into the pouch and sprinkled the seeds. Once all inside, they covered the seeds up with the soil.
They drew their daggers and let the water imbued onto them slowly drip onto the dirt. After a few drops or so, they drew a mound around the area and started filling it up with the water on their daggers. It was water from Pandaria, and they could only hope it would be as nice as it was in their past. From that day on, they didn't return to Stormwind until the tree started to show its first signs of growing.
It had been a couple weeks. Sarnor had left the den only to check up on their Andri and Sydarlin to make sure they were fairing well. Andri was hearing voices now as well, but different ones, and Syd was having trouble composing herself after seeing Har'koa. Upon returning, they found that a sapling had emerged from the soil. They were quite pleased that the seeds were actually growing. They were a naturally patient worgen, but they desperately desired the tree to grow already. Andrestrasz had noticed the newfound habit of pacing around the sapling at night, waiting to see it grow even more. He chuckled at Sarnor, finding it strange they were infatuated with something as simple as a tree. He was curious towards their new antics, and continued watching them day on.
Sarnor even slept outside now, just next to the sapling. They seemed oddly content with their life, despite the month having been increasingly rough on the druid. The voices continued in their head, but they had been able to put them aside for now.. as if they were finally breaking free of N'zoth's grasp. Then they continued recollecting the fond memories brough with the heirloom's growth. As a child, they always had the cute fantasy of giving a flower from the tree to their lover.. perhaps to become a reality someday. They chuckled to themself. The family heirloom was keeping them sane and pleased for the time being, and they were fine just knowing that the tree would be there one day, if they waited long enough.
|Author:||Death_Dino420 [ Mon Oct 09, 2017 12:44 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
Entry #8 - Sarnor - Surprise
(During the events of the Worgen curse, before Sarnor went blind)
The feraled worgen wandered over the hill, unaware of the watcher from afar. Their pack had recently been dismantled, and they were alone. At least.. to their knowledge. They continued walking across the dirtied road until the ground started to shake. It crumbled from beneath them, and on the edge of the hill, they fell down into the thicket below. They roared for help, completely caught off guard. They closed their eyes as they fell, until they reached the thorned brambles below. The thorns dug into their fur and their limbs were completely trapped within the plants' grasp.
Sarnor struggled to break free from within the brush. As they eventually made it through, something gripped their leg. They were pulled back down by a root. Not knowing the landscape well would be there downfall. The roots were everywhere, and as they escaped from one, another took hold. One wrapped around their throats while their back legs were still in place. They clawed and bit at the roots, but this one was to thick to rip through. The watcher from before had followed them, a torch in his hand. A smirk grew on his features as he watched the poor, young worgen fought to be free.
Soon, he threw the torch into the thicket, setting it ablaze. Sarnor looked back as everything caught fire. They howled and cried out for help, struggling more viciously. The root hardened over their throat, and the apprentice Druid really became crazed when the roots over the legs burned. "Hawroooooo!" They howled again, but their calls went unheard. Their throat was slowly burning now, under the root's tight grasp. Their howls and cries got hoarse and quieter, until nothing came out. Their throat was completely charred and their voice box demolished.
Tears streamed from their eyes and they soon passed out from loss of air. Their fur was unimaginably singed. The watcher mounted his horse and trotted away triumphantly, assuming the beast died. The fire was latervwashed out by rain and Sarnor awoke. The roots had dried from the fire and were easy to break through now. They pushed out of the thicket, returning to their original patrol location. Their face was cleaned by the tears. They sat down, rubbing their throat. They tried to speak.. yet there was nothing. They felt so powerless, so vulnerable in this state. Burned heavily, mute, and weak.
They stood shakily, limping their way across the broken road. Ahead was nothing good...
|Author:||Death_Dino420 [ Tue Oct 10, 2017 7:40 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
Entry #9 - Elkin - Prank
It was about time the pets have some fun with their master. Sure, he'd play fetch and other stuff with them, but they had something different in mind today. It was Evolution, his wind serpent, who had brought it up. The rest of the stable agreed and hastily began preparations to pull the greatest prank on Elkin. He was extremely scared of ghosts, and would only go into supposed haunted areas if he was dared to. He wanted to prove he was brave, but usually ended up running right out. The animals wanted to give him a good scare that would haunt him until he was smart enough to realize it was faked...
The pets gathered at an old house. It would take a lot to get him to come, but if they convinced him one of his precious beasts was trapped inside, he'd rush right in. They gathered around all of the old dolls and plush toys in the house, placing them in the center of the most creepy room. Aechon, the bright pink hippogryph, produced clear string. The plan was to tie the dolls up and connect the string to the wall and the door. When the door was opened, the string would lift up all the ugly aged toys. It was absolutely genius! At least to them, it was.
Now the plan was to be set in action. Eventually they spotted Elkin wandering by a window, bewildered that none of his pets were in the stable this evening. Fenryr was joined by the rest in an evil cackle as they rushed upstairs to hide. It was Groverunner who tilted her head up to release a pained howl, hoping Elkin would take it as a sign that they were inside. His ears perked up and he quickly looked towards the house, his ears now flattening. The initial effect the house had on him was making him shiver as he did last week when he saw the saber-tooth.
He gulped and forced himself to approach the door. He warily opened the door, securing his rylak helm on in case anything were to jump out at him. He observed the area for a moment. It wasn't as creepy as it would be at night, but it was still particularly haunting. He slowly walked up the stairs, unready this time. He didn't expect there to be anything, however he was still cautious. That was when he approached the fateful room the pantheon's trick lay. Elkin was urged to continue by the sound of a whimper, thinking Grove was inside. He glanced through the crack in the door and was instantly frightened even more than he was before. He knew the pile of grotesque dolls and stuffed animals was not a good sign.
None the less, he proceeded. It was when he opened the door that his dear worsened. The prank had gone as planned. The toys began to levitate as the string was pulled, floating before the shocked youngling. He finds himself unable to do anything until he simply faints. When the animals hear the thump of him hitting the ground, they come in. A few of them chuckle as they notice the poor hunter is out unconscious. Ironbane the devilsaur lifts Elkin by his scruff, carrying him back outside.
When Elkin awoke, he was still rather frightened, yet annoyed. He knew the pets played the trick on him. Before he went out cold he had noticed the string, and was able to recall it. His animals continued to laugh and joke about it to this day.
|Author:||Kayro [ Wed Oct 11, 2017 1:14 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
((Little late, but I'm not so far behind as to not be able to catch up. I'll edit today's prompt in together in a few minutes, it's just on a different platform atm ))
7. HEIRLOOM - This one is up to your interpretation entirely. Perhaps your character has some sort of family heirloom, just found out one exists, or is helping someone else find one, the possibilities are endless. Just make sure to use the heirloom in the story!
Family heirlooms were something Krysteena had never focused on. From what she was aware, her family lacked any sort of true heirlooms at all, and she had no children to pass such a sacred thing on to. For her, an heirloom of any kind seemed pointless. It would be something of interest if she did have one, but she didn’t. The mercenary had no plans to make a family for which an heirloom would be of any importance, but.. What would be left when she was gone? It was inevitable that, at some point, her luck streak (for that was what it felt like) would eventually run out, and she would either fall ill, or be struck down by another.
Maybe she should make a family heirloom. It didn’t seem like a bad idea. Perhaps it was a little pointless, and Krysteena didn’t want it to represent her alone. Her family was a makeshift one, like a temporary bandage for a wound that would never heal, but it was a family nonetheless, and her companions were part of it. There should be something left for when she was gone - something to remember her story by.
Krysteena felt around her neck, absentmindedly pawing until she got ahold of a thin piece of twine. She then tugged it up and over her head, and laid it in her palm. She stared at the necklace for a few moments, and then closed her fingers around it.
A single tooth. The tooth of a wolf. It was one that Felrius had lost; knocked out after taking a particularly hard blow to the head by the hammer of a paladin. Krysteena had never intended to cross paths with the Alliance, but she had come across one warrior who had foolishly attempted to slay the lone Blood Elf where she stood. Felrius had moved to defend her, and it had worked. The paladin had been quick to turn tail upon realising that the huntress wasn’t alone, and had been wise enough to leave. However, Felrius hadn’t gone unscatched.
While the loss of a tooth was a minimal one, Krysteena had kept the elongated fang. She’d even cut into it, so that a single symbol was etched into the side. It meant ‘protector’ in her native tongue, and she’d seen it fit to then keep it around her neck from that day on. Felrius was as much her family as anyone else could have been, and she kept it for the times that doubt filled her mind.
Krysteena supposed that that was her heirloom - a single tooth. When she was gone, Felrius was gone, and even Mormont and her other companions had fallen prey to the inevitable end that befell all; she would be remembered. They would all be remembered.
8. SURPRISE - Tell a story where your character is caught by surprise or perhaps surprises someone else, etc. Again, up to your interpretation of the word. Be creative!
Long days and endless nights were marked on a piece of gnarled wood as memory for the time Karo had spent out in the wilds. Even when she returned to the lodge up in Highmountain, she still kept that tally. It was a counter for how long she had been away from home, and how long it would be before she would finally be reunited with her family.
Maelun, a lone human with a serious exterior and an even sterner heart, was steeled against all that could have swayed another. He, too, had been taken by the Worgen curse, and he too had made a recovery. However, while Karo had moved to Highmountain to defend her world, Maelun had stayed to protect the mainland. He was a scholar, a teacher, a father, and a friend in one. He was a general of an entire army, and was known for his cold and strategic nature. Many believed him to be a rude and unpleasant individual. Karo knew better.
Several days into staying at the lodge had proved uneventful, and Karo had figured that getting out and clearing her head was her best way at passing the time. She chose to do so alone, and had found a happiness in the solitude.
The air was crisp and clear, and the ground beneath her paws was chilling to the bone - but in a way that did nothing more than keep her grounded. Around her, the many bears that usually wandered the forests had left for their dens to seek warmth and to prepare for hibernation. Karo was alone, but she was safe. She trusted she could defend herself and, upon such sacred ground, no Horde member would dare spill her blood.
However, the sound of someone following behind her soon became apparent, and Karo felt the fur on the back of her neck bristle. Her ears flattened and, although she tried to not appear outwardly ruffled, it was obvious that she was edging on cautious. She kept walking for a few minutes but, as the footfalls became louder and clearer, her sinking feeling turned into an abyss. Someone was behind her, and Karo told herself that she’d turn around to see who it was, on three..
..two and a half..
..two and a third..
A hand, or rather, a paw, clamped down on her shoulder, and Karo let out a loud cry that sounded as if she’d been thrown a great distance, rather than simply touched. The Worgen whirled herself around, teeth bared and claws out and ready to attack (sacred ground be damned), and she was all but about to throw herself at her supposed assailant.
However, there was no threat. No danger. No Horde member trying to kill her. Just Maelun.
The male Worgen, who easily stood a good feet above her, sniffed down at her sharply. His pale white fur was like the snow he stood on, and a grisly black scar crossed over his left eye. Startling blue eyes, normally cold and unnerving, seemed almost friendly. However, as usual, Maelun had a perpetual scowl on his face, and he appeared less than pleased about the whole situation. In response to his name, he simply nodded, as if it should have been obvious as to who he was.
“I- I didn’t realise it was you. I- I thought you were still over on the mainland, Maelun. What- Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have- I-” Karo’s heart was still beating lke a drum within her chest, and her fear was yet to go away. Yet, despite the fear, and despite the adrenaline that was still coursing through her veins, Karo was happy.
Maelun was back. It was certainly a surprise, but she was thankful for it. Normally she didn’t like surprises, but she could stand for this one.
9. PRANK - Your character pulls a prank on someone or is the victim of a prank. How do they react/what do they do?
When Krysteena awoke, she wasn’t expecting anything to be out of the ordinary. She got up, washed herself in the basin, adorned her armour, and headed out of the lodge as she usually did. Her rumbling stomach was generally ignored until she’d warmed up for the morning, and she’d headed out in the quiet to get a head start on it today.
However, something didn’t feel quite right. Something was very much different today, and Krysteena had a gut instinct to go into the stables. Usually this was done after training, but she never pushed gut instinct aside, and was certain that she needed to go check the stables. For what, she didn’t know, but she was sure there would be nothing wrong with it. Checking would only take a few minutes out of her training time, so it wasn’t a big deal.
However, when she went to the stable and peered inside, something was definitely wrong.
The mounts were gone.
All of them. The stable was completely empty.
The wolves, the horses, the raptors and even the flying creatures that some had brought along were all just gone. How bizarre. They were definitely in there the night before, because Krysteena had even seen her Dragonhawk up in the rafters, draped over a beam and seemingly content for the night. So where was he? Where were all of the other creatures?
Something then brushed up against her leg, and Krysteena jumped away with a loud gasp of surprise. A hand went to her heart, and she stared at where she had been just a moment before. Instead of the indent of one body, there was a second imprint beside her. That second imprint looked suspiciously like.. Paws? Why would it look like paws?
“Mages,” came a voice, and Krysteena jumped again. A Pandaren stable hand, who she recognised as the one who specialised in Wolfhawks, was outside with a broom. However, she wasn’t doing any sweeping. Nor did she look quite as perplexed about the whole situation as Krysteena did.
“What do mages have to do with this?” Krysteena asked, voice curt. “Where are the mounts? They were here last night - I even checked.” She folded her arms over her chest. Now her confusion was beginning to settle into frustration, and she wanted to know exactly where her mounts had gone - alongside everyone else’s, of course.
The Pandaren shrugged, and now began to sweep some loose straw back into the stables. “It’s a disappearing spell. The mounts are all still there, huntress. I’m afraid that we can’t see them. At least, not for a few more hours. It’s a popular prank for the mages now. They like to make our companions invisible, if only for a little while. Apparently it’s because a hunter got on the bad side of a mage. I can’t remember the name, but he had red hair. Bright red hair, like yours, but brighter. Very long, he seemed to be quite a-”
“Adox.” It wasn’t a question. Krysteena knew exactly who would do such a trick. When they were younger, Adox would often pull such tricks on her. It used to be with her weapon. The fact that he was now making entire stables of creatures disappear showed just how far he’d come - and just how far he’d be going back once Krysteena got her hands on him.
The Pandaren appeared oblivious to Krysteena’s growing anger. “Why, yes! That’s him! He seemed such a nice chap - not like some of your kind. I do wonder what has gotten him so riled as to take it out on every hunter in the lodge, but it’s no matter. The creatures will be visible soon, I promise, and- hey! Where are you going?”
Krysteena had brushed past the Pandaren with a loud huff and a scowl on her face, and hadn’t spared her so much as a second glance as she stalked back to her bedroom at the lodge, slamming several doors behind her on the way. When she got into her room, she immediately delved under her bed, and yanked out a small box. She undid the latches, and peered inside.
Inside was a single book - dog eared and tattered around the edges. It was a clearly favoured book, and Krysteena knew that this was why all the mounts were missing in the stable. Adox wanted his favourite book back - and his message was clear.
Krysteena received it loud and clear. She was going to need to hide this somewhere else.
10. SECRETS - We all carry them. What is one of your character's secrets?
Krysteena sat alone on the hillside, looking down upon a lush green valley. It was full of life, and she could see the stags and does running across. She could even see the wolves chasing after them, and sometimes she'd seen a fight between the two. It was all in the balance of nature that life and death mingled together in perfect harmony and created a fine line in between that was never to be broken.
Krysteena had broken that line.
Not with any cruel intentions, of course. She'd never meant to do such a horrific thing, but her grief and anguish over losing a companion had affected her thinking - and she'd made a deal that she should never have made. She'd taken what life was, what she'd promised to protect, and had ruined it beyond repair. Hunters were never supposed to do what she had done, and she knew that it was never to be spoken of.
Mormont hadn't always been her only bear. The great black beast has her stalwart shield against those who would wish to harm her, and she knew that his protection was key. She would never let herself lose Mormont, and even the thought of losing him made her heart sink. It was the same for Felrius, and the same for all her companions. It had even been the same for a great red dragon whom she had befriended.
Bjorn was the name of the bear. He'd been pure white, like snow, with bright blue eyes and as much malice in him as a newborn baby. He'd been small, and a lot thinner than Mormont was now. However, Krysteena had grown fond of the bear regardless. Bjorn had been a trusted companion on the front lines.
The great red dragon had been Kadrius. At least, that was what he had told her. He hadn't been young, but he wasn't any sort of elder, and the two had had a companionable agreement between them. They'd even fought the Scourge together up in Northrend, before Krysteena had been injured and deemed unfit to fight on the front lines. Kadrius and Bjorn were almost like family to her.
Then she had lost them. Bjorn had fallen in battle first - a spear had gone straight through him and the bear had fallen to the icy cold ground as a lifeless lump. There had been no time for him to even roar as he'd strode forward, and there was no hope that Krysteena would get to him at all, as the throng of people moved in the opposite direction. In that moment, Krysteena imagined that nothing else could have been any worse, but it did get worse. A lot worse.
Another spear flew up and above the army, way into the clouds. It looked to be a complete miss, but it appeared to be fully intentional. From the skies Kadrius had plummeted; another spear sticking from his chest. His roar had been an agonised screech as he'd fallen into the lake, and there was no time to even cry out as his body disappeared below the surface. The army was completely withdrawing now, and the red dragons that had agreed to fight by their sides were also covering their retreat. The death of one of their own echoed within their hearts, and there was a feeling that the battle had been lost.
Yet, Krysteena hadn't lost them all completely.
She was still sat on the hillside, but it was darker now. The sun had gone away, and more of the wolves were coming. The stags were falling, the does and the fawn followed shortly after. Blood tinted the green grass and the smell of it hung low in the air. Beside Krysteena stood a new companion. Two new companions.
Bjorn, the thin bear from before, was still with her. There was a gaping hole in his chest, and his jaw hung low and disjointed. Blue eyes were now blazing red, and the gentle nature had been replaced with anger and betrayal. His paws were big and heavy, and his breath came up in loud, rugged pants. Bones and muscle stuck out from beneath shaggy, dirty white fur, and there was a scent of decay surrounding him. Bjorn was a monstrosity compared to what he had been in life; something Krysteena hadn't been expecting, but she knew she should have done. The necromancer she'd spoken to was not one to be trusted, and he'd paid for what he'd done in his own forsaken life.
But not before he'd raised another. Kadrius; an embassy of life and all that was pure, had been turned and twisted into a mockery of his former self. The great dragon of crimson scales and noble heart looked nothing like he used to. Instead he was a skeleton, with decaying flesh and old scales clinging to his bones out of sheer spite. Sunken eyes stared out lifelessly, and tattered wings that still managed to get him up the air hung from his sides. Yet, he was still him on the inside, and the agony of what had happened and who he had become was not unknown to him. He was a mockery. Krysteena had never asked for him to be brought back to her, but he was here now.
Then, the wind blew, and that pungent scent of decay came back again as it completely washed over her. Then, it cleared, and the sun came back. The blood and the hunt of the wolves was no longer there and Bjorn and Kadrius had been replaced by Mormont and Felrius. Yet, Krysteena knew they were still there. They always would be, because of the mistake that she'd made.
|Author:||Death_Dino420 [ Wed Oct 11, 2017 8:56 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
Entry #10 - Sarnor - Secrets
(Might be graphic, not sure)
Sarnor had always considered most of their past a secret, as they rarely revealed it to anyone. Even when they did, they were concise about it, never going into full detail. They just never trusted anyone that much. Being a dragon had made them awfully reclusive to mentioning their past. They usually only gave subtle hints here and there about it, as well as being a dragon. That was probably their biggest secret- being a green dragon. Even so, they found it dull compared to the multitude of other secrets they held within. Despite being a more peaceful, accepting dragon, they often did not follow what the other dragons in their flight did. While the rest had an affinity for nature, and often loved helping and being around animals, Sarnor was much.. so much different.
On occasion they'd visit areas they despised, or simply wanted to see destroyed. Chaos was so satisfying to them, and they loved hearing the screams and cries of those caught in the dragon's malefic anarchy. In fact, they found it amusing. Most of the time they'd go around demolishing villages with humanoids living with them, those able to produce pained screeches as they died. As they couldn't breathe fire, they usually used their poison or acid to slowly kill anyone in the area. Otherwise they'd find a means to start a fire and burn everything in sight. They honestly questioned why they did this when they were a green dragon, but none the less, enjoyed what they did.
The druid was a masochist of sorts, also enjoying being in pain, themself. As long as it was physical. To anyone else, they'd enjoy torturing with physical, mental, and emotional pain.. Whether it be by influence, difficult choices, anything that could drive someone mad. Nobody was safe from Sarnor's desire to cause devastation, even their own friends.
|Author:||Death_Dino420 [ Thu Oct 12, 2017 10:06 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
Entry #11 - Sarnor - Race Change
Sarnor had been saddened for the majority of the week, once again. They were continuously reminded that Ysera was dead, and they were probably past being able to redeem themselves to the Cenarion Circle. The sorrowed druid continued walking through Stormwind... They awaited somebody to say hello, which was most often Andri, but he seemed to be absent from the tavern. It was someone else's voice who greeted them. A scratchy, croaking voice. "Hey there..." it said from the shadows. The owlcat stopped and looked around, trying to detect the voice's owner. "Ah, over here, kitty." it said again, allowing Sarnor to find it. "You look distressed.. perhaps a potion to help?" he hid a quiet chuckle, something the druid could pick up on with their heightened senses. He was trying to take advantage of their blindness, like most people did.
Yet the scent of the elixir was hidden, and Sarnor could not decipher what it was. "It will take memories you dread away. You will forget you ever met someone.. forget any trauma something may have caused you..." his words reminded Sarnor of the voices in their head. Alluring and sounding true, but there was no honesty to them. They wanted to say yes.. it was so enticing. They were unable to answer before the glass was shoved into their beak, allowing the contents of the potion to spill into their throat. The man pulled away as his flask was broken and eaten, and the liquid was drunk. He chuckled darkly as the druid's form began to change, their feather's molting away to reveal blue scales. Their antlers became spikes, connected by thick fleshy webs...
They were forced to stand upright, but rather than reverting to their worgen form, they had taken on a completely new appearance. Where a furry tail once lay, a skinny, and much longer one was. Their body was covered in scales and plates. Before the man could run after the success, Sarnor grabbed him by the throat- crushing it almost instantly. Their desire to kill had heightened while taking on the form of a Saurok. They got onto all fours and started dashing through Stormwind and out into the forests of Elwynn, finding a suitable place in the Eastern Kingdoms to wreak havoc while their identity was concealed.. for now.
One of their journies to help quench their desires was to Duskwood. They had only about four hours until the potion wore off, and they would use it.. "wisely." A couple children were wandering, one an elf, and one they clearly recognized, yet held no remorse for at this instant. It was Elkin. They approached from behind stealthily, letting the younglings notice them by their footsteps and growls. When the two looked back, the elf was immediately frightened, and Elkin drew his bow. However, as Sarnor neared, the children began to start running. The worgen pup fired an arrow, but it merely grazed the Saurok's scales. Even while blind they could notice any bullets and arrows coming their way.
When his shot missed, Elkin's ears flattened. He and the night elf ducked for cover in a small den they were able to dig out in the few moments before Sarnor came by. Their jaws dangled before the den's entrance, before sliding in and snapping at the children. The poor elfling screamed as Elkin prepared another shot. When the jaws opened once more, he shot the arrow inside. It got stuck within the gums in the upper jaw. Sarnor roared in pain, retracting back swiftly. They snapped their maw shut and the arrow pushed right out of their open flesh. They grunted, circling the two for a little while longer to insure they were completely scared, before leaving.
The second and third hours were mostly them hunting deer and large game, like oxen. Being at such a large size and so skillful at taking down huge beasts, the animals were no match for Sarnor's fangs and claws. Being a Saurok was not all too bad, providing them more of an edge for whatever they did. Plus.. lizard men were really cool, in the druid's opinion. Not to mention nobody really knew it was actually Sarnor, so they could basically get away with anything they did while under the potion's effects. They were completely joyous at such destruction as usual, and a lot of the forest's inhabitants were slain already. Even if they couldn't see it, the sounds of death were pleasing enough.
Pretty much everything did was create chaos and dismantle stuff.
|Author:||Kayro [ Fri Oct 13, 2017 4:20 am ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
11. RACE CHANGE / GENDER CHANGE - Perhaps your character has tripped into a Gnomish/Goblin device, been a victim of a spell gone awry, used a strange trinket, or drank an unknown potion which changes your character's race or possibly their gender! What happened to your character? How do they look and what did they do while under the transformation for a few hours?
"You promised that there wouldn't be any negative side effects!" Krysteena roared, now standing at a good couple of feet above Adox. Elongated ears had shortened, and her nails had lengthened and thickened to form claws. A muzzle twitched in irritation, and the mage found he had a mouthful of serrated teeth inches away from his face. Yet, he at least had the decency to not back away.
"Yes, yes I did."
"Is this not a negative side effect?!" Krysteena demanded, gesturing down to her body in a mix of disgust and absolute horror.
"No, that's definitely a negative side effect," Adox confirmed, looking her up and down as if he hadn't yet quite figured out what had gone wrong. Krysteena was willing to bet that he didn't know where he'd gone wrong - not yet.
"Then why didn't you tell me that this would happen?!"
"It wasn't supposed to happen, that's the thing! You must have moved or- or something!"
Krysteena looked affronted, and withdrew herself with a loud snort. "I was completely still!" Ears flattened down to her skull, and those teeth came ever closer. "Do you now see why I don't bother with your mage tricks?! This happens! Bad things always happen!"
Adox did withdrew now, giving Krysteena the once over again. His delicate brow was furrowed, and he did appear to be very much guilty. Whether he was amused about it or not would become evident in hindsight.
"It can't be all bad," Adox stressed, trying to see the bright side at least a little bit. "Come on, I bet you've got an excellent sense of smell right about now, hm? That's good!" He flashed Krysteena a grin, but her expression didn't change from her angry one.
"Nothing about this is good!" Krysteena snapped back, eyes narrowing. "You turned me into a Worgen! A Worgen!" She waved her arms up in the air to make her point clear. "Why couldn't I at least still look like someone of the Horde?! Even a Tauren- a- an Orc! By the Sunwell, even a Forsaken would have been better!"
Adox arced a brow. "Now, now, that's a little extreme, Krys. You hate Forsaken."
"I hate everything, and everyone, and I'm starting to hate you, too," she snapped back, withdrawing back on paws that seemed unsteady. Of course, she'd never walked on paws before, and she felt completely unstable. She'd saved herself the decency of falling, however, if only by not actually having moved from her original position.
Adox couldn't help but scoff at that, and he leaned over to carefully pick up the same book as before. Krysteena being a Worgen was a.. bizarre change that he hadn't foreseen with this spell, and he wasn't entirely sure how to reverse it. It wasn't permanent, he knew that much, at least.
For a few minutes, Adox was then absorbed into his book, absently flicking through the pages while looking for something he believed could help them. It was only when he looked up that he saw that Krysteena hadn't moved from her position, and was still glowering at him from beneath a hooded brow. She had even made a point of beginning to pat her paw on the ground - although it didn't make as annoying a sound as she'd have liked.
"I'm staying here," she said stubbornly, "until you find a way to reverse this spell and I can go back outside again. I don't want anyone to see me like this. Nothing good can come of this, no matter how much optimism you show me."
Adox surmised that, despite he outwardly appearance, Krysteena was very much the same. He could even see elements of her Blood Elf body in the Worgen one. Her fur was a rich brown, and had red tinges within. Her muzzle was delicate, her nose slightly upturned, and her ears were longer and thinner than what he'd have expected from a normal Worgen. The scar was still very much there, as well, acting as a reminder of who was stood before him. Now, there was an element of mockery there; Krysteena had been turned into the very creature that had given her that scar.
"Very well," Adox breathed, moving to sit down on a nearby chair. "I'll get to work. You best get comfy, though. This might take a while."
|Author:||Death_Dino420 [ Sat Oct 14, 2017 1:29 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
Entry #12 - Elkin - Rivals
Back when Elkin was merely seven, not much younger than he is now, he was a prisoner in Orgrimmar. During his time there, he had picked up more than a few enemies, but his quarrels were mostly with another archer. When the youngling was trained to fight and brawl in the arena, his skills had stirred another orc. The two were seemingly equally matched, since Elkin was learning fast, and knew most of what the other one did. In time, the two became bitter rivals. The fights were broken up by the pup's teacher, yet they'd still shout at each other with cusses and racial slurs. Everything was a competition to them. Even simple training exercises turned hardcore when the two were always trying to better the other and come out the best.
The orc was named Orzo, and was an exceptional bowman. He could deal similar damage with guns but he always preferred using a bow. The two actually had a lot in common, but hated to admit it- if they could stop challenging each other they might become the best of friends. Both had an affinity for nature and animals, enjoyed shooting with bows, and liked beast companionship more than people. However, being at odds made them both unknowing of each other's likeness.
Eventually the rivalry would go too far. They and two others, Elkin's teacher and an orc rogue, were sent on a mission to slay a giant bear that had eaten someone. It started out as it usually would, the archers racing to be first to get the kill. Elkin was much faster than Orzo when on all fours. His lithe body allowed him to move swiftly and gracefully over the ground, and he was able to keep enough traction from stumbling over holes and hills. The group managed to track the bear to his den, and were now before his den. He was about to hibernate, which would make it an easy target. The rogue disappeared into stealth incase anything were to happen, allowing the rivals to shoot.
"Watch a pro do his job." Orzo chuckled, raising his bow, an arrow pulled back. It was aimed at the bear's throat, and he was ready to shoot. Elkin was about to draw his bow as well... Yet something drew him to the brown bear. He entered the cave warily while the group watched. "What are you doing??" Dorga, his teacher, asked, only to receive no answer. Orzo scoffed, uncaring of what would happen to the youngling if the bear awoke. Elkin's hand skimmed over the bear's wounds, making it grunt and shift. Its head moved to face him, ember-orange eyes staring at the pup's. At this moment, he saw no beast. A creature who had endured pain farther than its physical wounds. Ready to give up on life.
"Move out of the way pup. I want this to be a clean kill!" not like Orzo really cared if he shot the youngling. "No," he said, turning. "No."
Orzo released a guttural growl, unlike an orc. Silently, his arrow was pulled back farther until it was tugging on the string, begging to be released. Elkin did not move, even when he was in direct sight of the arrow. "Don't be fools, you two. Elkin, move!" Dorga shouted. However, he remained still. Orzo was getting tired and angry of this, until his growl became louder. He ignored Dorga's light shove and shot the arrow. Quickly it penetrated the worgen's thick hide and came out of his back. Any closer and the arrow would have punctured his heart. He released a cry of pain and fell back against the bear, to which it groaned.
"NO!" Dorga pushed Orzo to the ground and rushed to Elkin's aid. She took hold of the arrow and put a finger to her mouth. "Shh.." she murmured, "This may hurt, little one. I'm sorry it came to be this way." she pulled it right out, making him whimper. She reached into her pack and pulled out some herbs, pushing it into the wound. The bear's burning eyes turned to Dorga, but made no attempt to hurt her. He simply watched. The female's ears twitched and she hesitated for a moment, regarding the creature's worry. She gave a small nod, hoping not to upset the very bear she set out to kill. She bandaged up Elkin's wounds, but he had passed out from the pain. Brawling had given him a number of scars, as had whippings and such, but he had never felt this way before.
Two weeks later, Elkin had recovered. When he returned to the stable to see Hatefang, his trusty worg, he found that it wasn't his teacher caring for him. It was Orzo. He approached softly, but his slight movements made the worg jump up and run to see his master. He chuckled as his face was wet from being licked so much, but his attention soon switched to his rival. He could feel the hatred climbing up his body, but it had lessened some due to his pain and being able to see Hatefang again. Orzo met his gaze, and walked towards him slowly, his movements unsteady. He towered over the seven year old, looking down at him, before kneeling. He pulled from his back the youngling's bow. "Yours." he said simply and quietly.
"Thank you..." Elkin replied in a similar manner. "Perhaps we can put our enmity behind us. I'd prefer to start anew." Orzo said, rising.
|Author:||Death_Dino420 [ Sat Oct 14, 2017 2:22 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
Entry #13 - Elkin - Power
It had been awhile since Elkin put his magical viability to the test. His teacher had been absent for some time, the mage Colborn Wolfmana, and he assumed he'd just study in the academy tower. For two whole months he'd been studying and reading various books on magical swords, runes, fire, and ice. He wanted to be able to call down a blizzard upon his enemies and put his tar traps on fire. It'd prove to be quite the deadly array of power to show his military unit.
His first steps were simply summoning small icicles from the air. Nothing as fatal as a true blizzard, but enough to stab some people. He chuckled to himself as he thought of that, his icicles growling larger as he grew more focused. They soon melted away and evaporated as his mind moved to something else. He didn't have any weaponry a mage would. Except that odd sword Colborn had gifted to him on their first trip. He closed his book and broke from his growing icy shell. Lune, his spirit gryphon, looked up to notice he was leaving back into the tower. She sighed and followed after him, still intrigued by his fashion sense for being an apprentice magi.
He bore immaculate robes strewn from bones and bright blue feathers to match Lune's, since he couldn't get any of hers because, well.. she was spectral. The cloth that was the base for the dress was sinew painted over in dark blue. His shoulders were nearly the same, just with bark carved in the shape of a raven. Elkin marveled the idea of being able to shapeshift into a bird like that when he was strong enough to. His helm was the skull of a raven as well, one that he made himself from bark since a true raven's skull would be too small to fit. Attached were plenty more blue feathers, presenting an icy glow to the apprentice's armor.
Elkin climbed up the wide, spiral staircase until he reached his room. As usual, it had been destroyed by all the other children apprentices living with him. He grunted, completely used to it by now. It was a good thing his stuff was hidden so it couldn't be burned.. he had learned after his stuffed animals were immolated before. He pulled the large box out and blew the dust away, opening it to reveal the old sword. It curved at the end and had a golden hilt, but the paint had faded due to it's lack of use and age. He had never used a sword before, and had no idea how to care for it, until now. He pulled out the book for mage swords and read it again, stopping at certain pages that told of how to use one and tend to it.
Lune read the instructions aloud while Elkin followed them. She was very impatient with him, but didn't allow it to cloud her mind as she continued teaching him, substituting for Wolf. "Carefully scrub the hilt with the sponge. And make sure this time.. there is soap on it..." she said with a grumble. Elkin began scrubbing furiously on the hilt. He knew what he was doing, he just liked making Lune mad. "Carefully! CAREFULLY it said!!" her talons curled as she screeched. "You're making me go crazy over here! Can't you follow something as simple as this?!"
"Yes, but it's fun watching you get so angry.."
Lune was still grumbling in her corner as her master finished up. "All done." Elkin said, raising the long sword up. His muscles barely trembled from the weight but it wasn't too easy to hold. He had revealed the sword's oddly clear blade and small, planet-esque ball in the middle of the hilt. The hilt glowed it's beautiful, now shiny golden color, and Lune was immediately attracted. Her beak opened slightly in awe as she admired the weapon. "It's like you, Lune. My hand goes right through the blade." he put his hand in it, phasing it to the other side. "How peculiar." he said, standing to take the sword up top. Lune followed, eyes still set on the sparkle of the hilt.
When at the top of the tower, the cover shifted back. It was dawn, as he had spent hours training and cleaning the sword. He lay it down on one of the tables and adjusted the telescope. "I hope the stars are out tonight." he murmured with his childlike wonder.
Soon enough, the sun set, and the pink-yellow sky had darkened. The moon rose, causing Elkin to tilt his head back and howl like the wolf he was. "AwrrooOOoOoooOoOooOoOooOooooOOOO!" he chuckled and lowered his head. Lune snickered to herself, making sure Elkin couldn't see her smile. "Ah, the stars have come." she motions towards the bright lights in the sky, watching them. The pup before her turned the telescope to see, looking into it. A smile of his own crept onto his features as he watched more and more lights appear, filling the night sky around the moon. His fascination soon shifted onto something else as he heard a low hum. His ears twitched, and he and Lune looked to the sword. It was glowing!
The blade began to turn a light blue akin to the feathers on Elkin's regalia. The ball in the center of the hilt reflected this, and two other, smaller ones appeared beside it. Matching the sky, stars appeared and aligned along the blade. Elkin warily picked it up, and the smaller orbs circled the middle one. The sword shimmered to reveal it's natural design- the star's design. "W..woah..." the youngling said between his gasps. He felt a surge of power inside him, unlike anything before, and the magic inside of him shined true at this moment. His white eyes glowed brightly like the stars and the moon, and he desired to test this phenomenal tide of energy.
He approached the railing and with the sword sheathed at his side, he rose a hand up. From his palm he summoned a mighty blizzard, plummeting into the ground. How could he not succumb to such power? He continued casting spells until his mana depleted, leaving him panting. "I.. I feel like a god!" he chuckled darkly, baring a toothy grin...
|Author:||Inay [ Mon Oct 16, 2017 7:51 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
(Just to say that I did not forgot the challenge! But I cannot write one by day, so I write them on week-end in my notebook. Will do a compilation at the end of the month)
|Author:||Kayro [ Wed Oct 18, 2017 7:01 am ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
12. ENEMY / RIVAL - We all have them. Who is your character's enemy or rival? Is it a specific person or perhaps just the opposing faction? Write about an encounter they had with an enemy/rival.
Even the title made her lip curl into a cruel, unpleasant expression.
Some Alliance. It seemed that no faction was safe from bickering and arguing amongst themselves, and, very rarely, Krysteena believed that the Horde had a better grip on themselves than the blue-and-gold clad heroes the Alliance claimed themselves to be.
One by one their champions would fall, and Krysteena would make a special effort to pick of her own selection. Driven by the dangerous fuel of spite and hatred, Krysteena had sworn to personally execute the Worgen that had given her her scar. While Krysteena couldn’t remember the exact name of the individual she was trying to pick out, she knew that, upon seeing the correct Worgen, she would know.
Right now, she was positive that her prey was just up ahead - and down below.
Krysteena nocked an arrow, her position atop the ridge hidden by the dead and dying foliage around her. She moved silently through the underbrush, and, on either side of her, her delicate ears could just about make out the sounds of Felrius and Mormont moving alongside her. It was more because of them than herself that she had taken extra precautions to be downwind from her target. The scent of Blood Elf amongst these lands would be masked by the heavy aroma of the Forsaken. However, a hulking bear and wolf carried their own unique scents, and not many Forsaken took the courtesy to select companions of the living variety.
Gilneas stood as a twisted mockery of what it had once been; a skeletal mass casting a grim shadow that stretched across the land. Royal hunting grounds had been torn apart by the Forsaken and feral Worgen alike, and once abundant flora and fauna had either left why they still had the chance, or had fallen prey to the many threats that still called Gilneas home.
Yet, not everything was dead, and, as Krysteena raised her head up over the ridge and cast her gaze downwards, she saw exactly who she was looking for.
The Worgen was limping, and cradling a profusely bleeding arm. At a first glance, the she-wolf looked to be alone, and seemed a far cry from the beast that had almost completely torn out Krysteena’s right eye. But Krysteena would never forget the look of the Worgen, and she knew that this was the same one. She was also wise enough to know that the mongrel wasn’t alone.
Something moved in the shadows behind her - something large. The way it moved suggested a bear, but until Krysteena could see it in the moonlight, she couldn’t be certain. Whatever animal it was, it definitely wasn’t hunting her quarry, and Krysteena knew that she now had two concerns.
An enraged pet would hunt down the killer of its’ master until it either succeeded, or also died. Krysteena couldn’t imagine being the one to leave a companion without the other half - but killing the Worgen would make her that one. It.. went against already very grey morals, and the Blood Elf found herself hesitating.
She wanted to best her opponent. Striking now would just be picking off the weak, and Krysteena didn’t want to be remembered as the one who skulked around and killed those who could not defend themselves. She knew it would be a simple task to just send the arrow flying and kill the Worgen, and then strike whatever beast walked behind her and hope to kill it as well. Yet, that didn’t sit right with her. Reversing the order didn’t exactly sit right with her, either. The whole thing felt.. Wrong. What was she doing?
Krysteena found herself lowering her bow, and instead yielding to inner turmoil. Previously silent, even the subtle clicking sound that came with removing the arrow was enough, and, below her, the Worgen whipped around as quickly as she could.
Then their eyes met, and everything seemed to freeze for a moment. Krysteena couldn’t read the Worgen’s face, but it was something akin to fear that she clearly felt. It then changed to a belying terror as she realised that, upon reaching for her bow, there was nothing there.
Defenceless, injured, and with a sole companion for protection.
It wasn’t right. Krysteena knew that she had loose morals, but this completely revoked any of them. Even if she had wanted to shoot the Worgen now, she knew she couldn’t. Even now, the Worgen below seemed ready to run, and a shimmer of silver within the foliage told Krysteena that it was most definitely a bear defending her, and that bear was already running forward as if ready to take the arrow that was coming.
But, there was no arrow.
Instead, Krysteena stepped back away from the edge, and did nothing. She didn’t say anything - nor make any attempt to communicate to the Worgen. She just kept backing up until the ledge was a good few metres away. Then, Krysteena turned her back on the Worgen completely, and walked away.
Perhaps, in the near, or far, future, Krysteena would come to regret her decision. But, in that moment, she couldn’t have shot the Worgen and ended the hunt there and then. If anything, Krysteena was giving the Worgen a second chance to pick herself back up, dust herself off, and get herself back up to full strength.
They would meet again; Krysteena was sure of it.
13. POWER - Today's topic is about having the option to have an immensely powerful item or ability, and whether or not they would use it. Azeroth is full of powers far and wide. Tell us about a time your character came across some said power and if they succumbed to the temptation to use it.
Gifts that had no negative side effect were rare, as Karo had come to understand.
Gifts from the fickle Bronze Dragonflight were even more rare - and the idea that there was no side effect wasn’t even to be considered.
Sand, so simple and bland, could be found on every continent of Azeroth. Karo had seen normal sand, white sand, and even red and black sand. Nothing about it had ever struck her as extraordinary in any way, and she’d mainly found it to be an inconvenience (sand, once stuck in fur, was incredibly difficult to get out).
Yet, this sand was sand that had come from a Bronze Dragon. Presumably it was sand from the Caverns of Time, and it glittered like gold as she moved the vial from side to side. It was a subtle promise of unforetold power; the power of a dragon, perhaps? Karo was certain that she couldn’t be turned into a dragon, because that was silly, but be given the form of one..? Perhaps for travel? She was sure that that could happen. She’d even heard tales of various races (such as the Humans and Goblins) spending years and years to create what they called a ‘Vial of Sands’, all in order to replicate the form of a Stone Drake.
Definitely impressive. Karo had once seen a hero of the Alliance with a Stone Drake acting as his mount. It had been a deep obsidian colour, with gems that sparkled like the purest rubies embedded into the scales. It looked like a stone statue come to life, and the young Worgen hadn’t been the only one to marvel at the beauty of such a creature.
And this unsuspecting vial could make her a beautiful creature like that, too? It almost seemed too good to be true. Turning into a dragon, if only for a few minutes at a time, could make her incredibly powerful. She would be able to turn the tides of a battle within seconds, and decimate her enemies while their swords acted like simple toothpicks to her stone hide. She would fly on wings of obsidian, and she could easily carry away the injured from the battlefield.
Karo opened the vial, if only out of curiosity, and gave the sand a small sniff. It didn’t smell bad. She was sure it wouldn’t taste bad, either, but she was certain that she didn’t need to eat it to get it to work. The Worgen dipped two fingers in, if only to grab a small pinch of the golden sand between her claws.
Just a couple of minutes, she promised herself. Then she would put it back and never use it again. Suspiciously, all users of the sands didn’t seem to last very long, as if contact with such a powerful spell sapped away their own time and drastically shortened their life spans. A few minutes wouldn’t take off too much time, Karo was sure, and she had doubts that she’d live to an old age anyway.
The young Worgen closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly let it back out again. Then, she threw the sand up into the air and allowed it to fall back into her fur.
Just a few minutes.
((I'm getting super behind on these, but I'm trying to keep up. I severely underestimated how much work college was actually going to throw at me :') ))
|Author:||Death_Dino420 [ Thu Oct 19, 2017 7:51 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Re: 30 Day Site Write Challenge|
(I'm starting to fall behind, too. Mostly because of no time)
Entry #14 - Sarnor - Cross-Faction
Just another uninteresting military event. Sarnor had gotten back from fighting undead with the Hounds, which they're always doing, unless they're killing demons. The druid had absolutely no quarrels with the Horde. They were also unable to sympathize with those who seemingly had it hard with the Horde, including the other Hounds, mostly the gilneans among them. Sarnor was simply devoid of any hate, and was apathetic to anyone who had a reason to hate. They actually quite enjoyed being around the Horde, finding their races far more interesting than anyone in the Alliance. Forsaken, orcs, trolls, tauren.. They all sprouted a curious interest from the druid. Having spent so much time around Stormwind and Alliance folk- often boring, unsocial people- how could they not? Little they knew of the other side, mostly because of what they chose to be- a worgen. They doubted any Horde would not try to slaughter them at first glance if they dared approach in a non-druid form.
Interactions with the Horde were few and often dangerous. Sometimes, it was a traveler who decided to revel in the owlcat's company, unable to tell they were a worgen whilst in that form. Other times.. it was somebody who knew the druid was, and decided to try to kill them or capture them. Sarnor actually got captured a lot.. mostly because they let themself be. And they couldn't forget the run-ins with the forsaken with the Hounds. Like that one encounter, when everyone was gathered at Shadowfang Keep- the Hounds' current base. Assuming the worgen were weak and distracted by the battles on Argus, the forsaken had launched an assault. While Sarnor had emerged unscathed from fight while taking down the commander, Elkin had sustained many injuries. The archers had landed plenty of arrows into him, to which, he had to pluck out and heal on his own...
They had never once met a neutral forsakeb that wasn't out to kill the members of their military unit, or they themself. Sarnor quite hoped to, even if it meant being a "traitor" to their unit. They also hoped the two factions would stop fighting for once.. Even while Argus was looming over Azeroth, the Horde and the Alliance still seemed far from ever working together..
Entry #15 - Elkin - Regret
The death of his pets was the biggest, and only thing Elkin ever regretted. He knew he could not save them.. and he continuously, every day, beat himself up over it. Yes, the rest of those alive with him were good company.. but he would never get over it. It was his mistakes that made them perish. His failures. Even when he told himself that he knew what was worth fighting for, that he knew who he was.. he would never forget. Never believe himself. What kind of hunter was he if he let his animals die on his watch? Or when he wasn't looking.. when he stepped away for that one second, and everything went wrong. He was quite aware he was eleven, and that things like this are bound to happen with someone so young.. yet it was all the more reason to be upset for him. He desperately wanted to prove himself better than what those his age could do. He wanted to do something he couldn't. He wanted to find himself.
Entry #16 - Sarnor - Obsession
There were so many weird things Sarnor loved to do already. They were masochistic, so enjoyed feeling pain and cutting themself. They loved destroying whatever they wanted, if they could. Among those, another odd obsession of the druid's was to eat things alive. They were pleased, the way the poor creatures or humanoids squirmed and tried to escape their jaws. It, to them, made the meal even better as they ate. Torturing the creature was not too far off either. They wouldn't eat it too fast, making it eventually writhe until it simply couldn't move anymore. They could feel the dread within their meal, anticipating death. When it least expected it, Sarnor would chomp down. A snicker and small cackle would leave the druid as they feasted, finding complete ecstasy in their own sadistic ways.
(I'll continue writing more when I have time. These ones were unfortunately very short)
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