#Deadwind Pass
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Deadwind Pass - JJcanvas
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OC commission from earlier in the year
#digital art#artists on tumblr#illustration#wow oc#deadwind pass#world of warcraft#blood elf#warcraft oc#oc commission#oc character#fit girls
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Party at Karazhan with the <Macrochelys> Atiesh team ✨
#world of warcraft#warcraft#vanilla wow#classic wow#turtle wow#private server#macrochelys#deadwind pass#screenshot#maxie#character screenshots
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dead on your feet
prompt: can't pass out
whumpee: sakari nurmi
fandom: karppi/deadwind
hi what's up!! here's a fun fic for a prompt i haven't ever explored before (i myself am shocked i didn't do hidden injury lol). i had fun with this one, hope you enjoy!
“You’re sure you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary when Mr. Virtanen was here for his last training session?”
“If I noticed anything, I’d have told you,” insists the gym trainer they’re questioning. He shifts from foot to foot and looks at the door. “If you’re not going to ask me anything else, I have a class in five minutes.”
Something has been lurking just under the surface in Sakari’s mind throughout this brief interview. He can’t quite put it to words, but he just knows something is up with this guy.
A door near the back of the room opens just as he realizes what that something is. “You’re waiting for someone, aren’t you? Someone specific.”
Sakari turns his attention to the person who has just come through the door. She’s not dressed for the gym, and she looks thoroughly surprised to see him and Karppi standing there.
“Run!” shouts the trainer.
“Duck!” shouts Karppi, at the same time.
Sakari catches the movement out of the corner of his eye and steps out of the way, but he isn’t fast enough to completely escape the impact. The weight plate that the trainer swings at him connects with the side of his head and a white light explodes behind his eyes.
He hits the floor hard and the impact knocks all of the air out of his lungs. The heavy breath he lets out coincides with the first wave of pain that radiates through his head. He makes a noise of some kind, though he can’t actually hear it.
He closes his eyes and the whiteness is still there. He opens them again and stares up into it instead. His head feels hot. It hurts. He can’t think, is barely even conscious.
For a long while - or at least for what seems like a long while - the pain is too great for him to be aware of anything else. Eventually, though, he’s able to think. And what he thinks is, it would be really nice to pass out right now. Then the pain would be gone. He closes his eyes again and tries to force himself to lose consciousness.
“Nurmi!”
It takes a moment for him to parse the voice, and another moment for him to register the hand on his cheek and the pressure on the side of his head, right atop the epicenter of the pain.
“Nurmi!”
He opens his eyes. The whiteness is fading, becoming spots instead of a field. He can make out a blurry shape above him, which he gathers must be Karppi.
“Don’t pass out.”
“But I want to.” The words come out muffled, slurred together. He can’t feel himself speaking.
“You can’t.”
He closes his eyes again anyway.
Karppi taps him on the face. A fresh wave of pain crashes through his head. He sort of groans, sort of whines, at the increased pain.
“Sorry. Keep your eyes open.”
He opens them. “What’re you doing?” he mumbles. Whatever the pressure is on the side of his head, he’d very much like it to stop. It’s only making everything worse.
“Keeping you awake.”
He knows that. He clumsily raises a hand and gestures to the problem. “This.”
“You’re bleeding.”
He is?
“You were hit in the head with a metal plate. Yes, you’re bleeding.”
Oh.
He supposes he should be glad that Karppi is stopping the bleeding. But he thinks he’d rather be bleeding than experience the pain of her stopping it.
An indefinite amount of time passes like this, him flat on his back on the floor of the gym, pain coursing through his head in horrible waves, and Karppi above him, keeping him awake and pressing on his head and generally doing things he’d really rather she not be doing.
At some point, the white spots fade away and he can see more or less clearly again. The pain mellows out slightly, still very much present but not as completely overwhelming. He can feel the blood now, sticky and damp on the side of his face and beneath the fabric Karppi is still pressing to his head.
Then there’s a lot of noise and movement, and the pain spikes again. Karppi moves away and he recognizes a paramedic above him. He figures that everything is handled now, which means he doesn’t need to stay awake any longer.
He closes his eyes, but remains, despite his best efforts, conscious.
The paramedic touches his head and neck and asks questions which are answered by Karppi. Sakari doesn’t pay too much attention to these. Then, he’s pulled slowly to his feet and guided to sit down on a bench. The paramedic begins speaking to him after the wave of dizziness this movement causes passes.
“What’s your name?”
“Sakari Nurmi.”
“What day is it today?”
“October fourth.”
“Do you know where we are?”
“A gym. I don’t remember the name.”
“Do you know what’s happening?”
“I got hit in the head.”
The paramedic nods, evidently satisfied with his answers. “Quite badly, too, from what I understand. You’re lucky you didn’t lose consciousness.”
He supposes he’ll need to thank Karppi for that, though he hadn’t appreciated it at all.
The paramedic continues. “We’d like to take you to the hospital so they can rule out any brain injuries, but because you haven’t lost consciousness and are fully alert, it isn’t strictly necessary.”
“You’re going.” This is Karppi.
Nurmi thinks she is being a bit unfair. “Would you go?” He thinks they both know she wouldn’t.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re going to go.”
This is how Sakari finds himself sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, head freshly bandaged, waiting for a doctor to tell him the results of the scans and tests they’d run. Karppi is off getting coffee - for herself only, he’s not going to drink the hospital stuff - and he is wishing he had something to do. His head still hurts, but it’s not nearly as bad as it had been before, thanks in no small part to the painkillers they’d given him.
The doctor comes back into the room before Karppi returns with her coffee. The news, she tells him, is not all bad. He has a concussion, but nothing more serious. She tells him things he must avoid doing (though he’ll probably do some of them anyway), and when Karppi gets back, she tells her that someone must be with him at all times for the next two days.
“Okay,” Karppi says, and that is that. The doctor tells him he is free to go and then they’re in the parking lot and the cold wind is making his head sting beneath the bandage.
“Do you need anything from your house?”
“What?”
“Do you need to get anything from your house?”
“Why?”
“Weren’t you paying attention? Someone has to keep an eye on you. You’ll come to my place.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not asking.”
They stop by his house. He packs a bag and wonders what would happen if he just stayed inside. Probably Karppi would come banging on the door, and that would just make his head hurt worse. He decides against it and walks slowly back out to the car.
He stares out the window in between long blinks on the drive over to Karppi’s place. They aren’t moving fast enough for the scenery to blur too much, but it makes him feel slightly disoriented all the same. He ignores it as best as he can and is very glad when they at last arrive.
Karppi’s apartment is quiet. It is still the middle of the day - he wonders briefly whether Karppi has called them both out of work early - which means that Henna and Emil are at school. He settles himself on the couch, and Karppi offers to order food.
For once, he isn’t hungry, and the thought of food makes him feel slightly nauseous. Karppi shrugs. “Let me know if you want something later. We’ll probably get pizza anyway.”
“Thank you.”
He stretches out on the couch, closes his eyes, and finally is able to fall asleep.
thanks for reading!!! hope you enjoyed and hope you have a good night/morning/afternoon/whatever!
#whumptober2022#no.4#can't pass out#karppi#deadwind#fic#sakari nurmi#i say things#my writing#head injury#concussion#medical#cared for#had a long kinda stressful day today which was mostly my own fault#but some good things happened too like i got free food and went to a meeting about study abroad!!#which i can't believe is finally something that's actually happening for me i am so excited :)#anyways yeah gonna go watch the new 911 now methinks#byeeeee
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WORLD OF WARCRAFT • LOCATIONS (107/?)
Deadwind Pass (requested by @belorehalla)
#world of warcraft#warcraft#wowedit#gamingedit#wowlocations#this ended up being more around karazhan specifically#tried to gif the vice too but *sniffles* it's just so ugly#also tricky to gif a zone that's so /still/#truly one of the most eerie places in wow
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World of Warcraft fic: A Twist of Fate Chapter 5
I am back with a new chapter. Originally I was planning on posting this chapter along with chapter 6, but I decided to go ahead for that readers can have time to enjoy this one. Chapter 6 is currently in the works, I can't guarantee when it will be out, but certainly sooner than my earlier updates.
Chapter 5: The Magus and the Mageling
-o-o-o-o-o-
“You look absolutely miserable.” Moroes said. He noticed the empty wine bottle that rested on the table by Medivh’s couch-bed. The sorcerer himself lounged on the couch but looked anything but relaxed. Moroes noted the darkened circles under his eyes, the paleness of his usually tan skin. He had half a mind to say something but refrained. “Late night?”
Medivh didn’t have the energy to muster up a witty retort. He followed Moroes’ eyes to the wine bottle and gave a small, tired sigh. “Something like that. I know you want me to head downstairs, but I’m not in good shape today. I’d like to have some time to myself.”
Moroes knew that look and that tone in Medivh’s voice. Something happened. Something that left the sorcerer feeling awful. If Moroes had to take a guess, it was Medivh’s own doing. His eyes flitted about the study, taking in details in his usual calm and practiced way.
A wine bottle caught Moroes’ attention first. Empty. More likely, Medivh was dealing with the repercussions of drinking too much. What caused him to drink in access though? As mischievous as the mage could be, Medivh had made it a point to cut down on drinking. Incidents that Medivh refused to talk about, had made states of inebriation and lack of control unsettling to him.
“What happened?” Moroes asked.
Medivh was quiet for a long moment. He didn’t launch into a tirade of hurt pride, annoyance with the Kirin Tor, no, he was quiet for a while. That made Moroes feel more unease than anything else. Medivh lightly chewed on his lower lip as he thought.
“Would you say that I’m a bully, Moroes?” Medivh asked, the events of the night before were still fresh in his mind. He had been replaying the night’s events back in his head over and over. Dissecting it all. Over-thinking. He was awful to Khadgar. He had been awful to him for some time now.
“It’s to tell me when there’s powerful or dangerous magic around. It’s to protect me, it’s my...friend.” Khadgar’s words rang up from the back of Medivh’s mind. The look on that boy’s face was enough to make him pause. To drag him back from the wine induced haze. “How would you feel if someone did that to the clockwork construct you’ve been working on?! Just tore it apart just because they could?! Just so they could hurt you!?”
Medivh’s eyes were fixed on the ground. He did want to hurt Khadgar. He wanted him out of his home, away from Deadwind Pass, out of Stormwind. Anything to put as much distance between himself and the Kirin Tor as possible. Twelve mages were pushed onto him. Most of them betrayed him, stole from him, spoke of him behind his back.
“You can be, when you get a way.” Moroes said honestly. “You can be truly wicked when you want to be. I’ve found myself on the receiving end of that sharp tongue of yours once or twice. I’ve put you back in your place easily enough, but I feel sorry for those who don’t know how to handle you.”
“How often would you say that I act like that?” Medivh asked, truly curious.
“As of right now, very often.” Moroes admitted. “You’ve been giving Khadgar a hard time, though, you’ve been balancing it out, somewhat.”
Moroes watched Medivh’s expression shift, his refusal to meet his gaze. He looked every part a young lad that had been caught making trouble.
“What did you do?” Moroes asked, his brow furrowing.
-o-o-o-o-o-
The rest of the chapter can be read on AO3.
If you are new or wish to start from the beginning, the fic starts here.
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A Twist of Fate
I’ve been wanting to continue or revamp this fic for a long time but at the moment I’m a bit stuck. Being that I’m working on a Pathfinder 2e Campaign based on World of Warcraft, I ended up thinking about this fic a lot and I decided to reshare it.
Here’s the first chapter and a link to the fic on AO3. It’s a long one, be warned.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Chapter 1: Lucky Number 13
A rough jolt from the wagon shook Khadgar awake. He blinked a few times before he looked up at the night sky. How long had he slept?
“Hey spell-chucker, is the cargo alright back there?” the dwarven driver called back to him. “I didn’t give ya a discount outta the goodness of me heart!”
Khadgar was squished between large sacks of potatoes and a crate holding bottles of ale. It was uncomfortable, the scratchy burlap of the potato sacks rubbed against exposed skin. The wooden create gave him no room to adjust himself. He did his best to look over the other various bits and bobs of cargo. “Nothing seems damaged, sir.”
“Good, keep it that way!” the driver ordered. “I’m gonna pick up the pace!” He swung his whip and cracked it loudly.
“Please don’t!” Khadgar’s body roughly jerked as the wagon sped up. Desperately he clung to its side as his frightened scream echoed out into the night.
Deadwind Pass had earned its name for good reason. Its paths and trails winded through thick trees and along the faces of steep cliffs. It was all too easy for travelers whether on foot or carriage to fall to their doom into rushing rivers far below. Had Khadgar not hitched a ride with a traveling merchant who was familiar with the area, it would have been his own fate.
Yet humans were a stubborn species, people still found a way to populate the area. To Khadgar’s surprise, he would spot the occasional house or two nestled among the greenery. Just how they could stand being surrounded by such dangerous heights was beyond him. Even crossing the simple stone bridges made the young mage’s stomach do flips.
“Look alive, kid!” said the driver of the wagon, his sudden bark made Khadgar jump. “We’re gettin’ close to Karazhan.”
The wagon rattled along the road as it made its way around a bend. It tilted dangerously close to toppling over the edge but slammed back down onto the road. The cargo and passenger were jostled but miraculously everything managed to stay intact. Khadgar was treated to a good view of one of Azeroth's moons. But his admiration didn’t last long, as his eyes were drawn to something else. Standing above the rock formations and thick wilds of Deadwind was a tower. Bathed in moonlight, it gave off a haunting presence. A proud monolith that stood above everything else, it felt as though Khadgar were being watched by it. A number of lit windows were sign that there was life in the tower.
Khadgar jumped when the wagon hit a bump that shook the entire thing. He held his satchel to his chest as though it could do more than barely shield him. It had been a long and rough trip. Khadgar had at first thought the worst was behind him after having to sail Menethil Harbor (his fear of deep water did him no favors). Only to find that there was still a long way to go, trekking through wetlands and on the road until he could hitch a ride with caravans kind enough to take on a fledgling ‘spell chucker’. Not to mention the drastic changes in climates, from the mild weather of Lordaeron to the bitter chill of Dun Morogh, to the heat of the southern lands of Stormwind.
It was difficult and there were plenty of times where Khadgar wished he could turn back. But that wasn’t an option for him. He had no means of going back home, certainly not enough money. The trip down the continent was dangerous enough as it was. No, he couldn’t go back, he needed to be accepted or…
The sound of rattling drew Khadgar’s eyes to the bottles of ale. His eyes grew wide as he watched the valuable cargo begin to bubble within. Khadgar reached out to stop it but a small static-like zap of arcane energy made him pull his hand away. The young mage scooted away from the crate and wrapped his arms around himself.
“Stop it, Khadgar...” he whispered to himself. Khadgar took a deep breath through his nose and released it as a sigh. “You need to calm down.”
“Here’s where ye get off, kid!” the driver said as the wagon began to slow down.
It wasn’t long before they came to a full halt. Khadgar looked up at the driver, thankful that he could leave before anything exploded. He snatched up his satchel and climbed out of the cart. Khadgar thanked the driver as he pulled out a coin purse and paid a few coins of what little money he had left.
The dwarf driver counted the coins before pocketing them. “Now listen, jus’ keep following the road and ye will wind up right in Karazhan. It’s jus’ a little ways from here so ye should make it there before it gets too late. Keep a good pace, nasty things prowl in these parts at night.”
Khadgar looked out at the road ahead of him, he gripped the leather strap of his satchel before he began to walk. Luckily the area wasn’t completely dark. a small mining station by the mouth of a cave provided a little light. It was A small comfort but not enough for Khadgar to relax. He was still far away from the only home he had ever known.
Admittedly, it was his own fault.
Curiosity was considered both a valuable trait and horrible vice of magi. It was what spurred them to learn and experiment with the magical arts, to push the boundaries of what was possible. Of course, there were also downsides, mages that pushed ethics aside just to see what would happen. It urged some to see if they could bind and control fantastic beasts or even raise the dead. Such attempts never ended well.
Khadgar attempted no such things, he followed most of the rules placed upon him by the Kirin Tor. Laws and regulations were engraved into him at a young age, like the brand of the violet eye on his left arm. The problem with Khadgar was that he was born with curiosity that had an insatiable appetite. Often he'd find trouble searching for the truth behind rumors or peeking at restricted areas or tomes.
Most students would focus their hunger for knowledge to texts and study. Khadgar would experiment with ways to make his snooping easier. He designed tools like a mechanical cricket that would chirp to warn him of powerful magics and wards. He also designed a small spell to enhance his hearing. Picking locks and undoing seals were a hobby to him like crossword puzzles were to others. There were many nighttime ventures around the Violet Citadel. Hunting for anything that would feed his gluttonous curiosity. It was how Khadgar found quite a few dirty little secrets that the Kirin Tor wanted kept quiet.
Many were harmless, perhaps a little embarrassing, like the Chief Artificer’s weakness for flamewine. Others were more far more scandalous and could tarnish a reputation. Like Korrigan, the Violet Citadel's librarian, and his fascination with demon worshipers and their practices. Or Lady Delth and her fondness for young men a mere fraction of her age.
Given Lady Delth’s status (both marriage and society wise), Khadgar suspected it was his stumbling onto one of her affairs that was the last straw. The next thing he knew, Khadgar was suddenly selected for a ‘great honor’. He was to go to a place called Karazhan, to learn under ‘The Great Magus Medivh’. Not that Khadgar had ever heard of such a mage.
Doing a little digging he learned that ‘Medivh Aran’ was a hedge-mage, that on its own was incredibly strange. Such magi suffered from a lack of discipline and restraint when not watched by the violet eye of the Kirin Tor. Usually, they would always meet some grisly demise brought by their own hubris. Stories of rogue wizards bringing castles down upon themselves or blowing themselves to bits were a staple in classes of young mages-to-be. The moral of such tales always the same: ‘Never go out on your own, never take the guidance of the Kirin Tor for granted.’
Yet Medivh was an anomaly. He was the very thing the Kirin Tor frowned upon but they appeared to respect the man. So why was there so little information about the magus? There were scraps and bits that Khadgar tried to cobble together into a cohesive picture.
In one text Medivh was credited for simplifying many complex spells (the names of which were missing). There was also a letter that noted the magus had observed a fascinating phenomenon in the stars. Other bits and pieces Khadgar managed to find were filled with a mishmash of claims that clashed horribly. There was mention of Medivh being a skilled engineer, one professor said that he studied exotic animals, and in one note the magus was called a ‘patron of the arts’. Generous, selfish, kind, cruel, genius, half mad, difficult taskmaster, a man that just didn’t give a damn, all these used to describe Medivh. None of it made a lick of sense.
It was aggravating since it only served to fuel Khadgar’s hungry curiosity even more.
Upon reaching the land where the tower stood Khadgar was surprised to see that there was a village surrounding the base. He could see a number of Houses, an inn, a marketplace, and a small church. It was a strange place for a village, hidden away by the surrounding woods and mountains. Almost as though it were dropped there by some spell went awry. Perhaps it was.
Khadgar could feel something strange in the air. A presence that made the hairs of the back of his neck stand on end. There was a lot of magic in the land itself, he could feel it flowing through the earth under his feet. If Khadgar stood and focused, he felt energies coursing in the ground beneath his feet. It was like many surging rivers meeting at and flowing from that point.
But it wasn’t the time to focus on such things. As Khadgar walked through the streets and towards the tower, he opened his satchel and pulled out his letter of introduction. The purple wax seal of the violet eye stared back at him. Like him, the letter had reached its destination, it felt heavy, perhaps more so than the day it was handed to him. It felt like he was holding his own future in his hands. In a sense, he very well was and that was terrifying.
A small sound suddenly caught Khadgar’s attention, his gaze was drawn to the window of a nearby house. His eyes widened as he saw the glass of the window was cracking. Khadgar felt his stomach twist into a knot before picking up his pace, mentally begging his magic stay in control. He couldn’t afford to his magic lash out, not now of all times. Khadgar tried to calm himself by taking in deep breaths but it was all too soon that he found himself standing before the main doors of the tower.
Khadgar felt his heart pounding harder in his rib cage as he stared up at the large, imposing building before him. In the dark of the night, it looked almost sinister, even the moon that hung high in the sky felt like it was judging him. It was getting harder to breathe as his chest felt tighter with each passing second. Khadgar swallowed trying to force his emotions down as he raised a shaky hand to knock on the large wooden door.
A loud explosion shook the tower from far above. Khadgar looked up just in time to see falling, shattered glass heading right for him. The young mage scrambled to get out of the way and managed to do so just in time. Sharp pieces of colored glass rained down right where he had been standing. Had he not moved when he did Khadgar would have ended up a bloodied mess.
“What in light’s name was that…?” Khadgar thought aloud, a bit shaken. He looked up and saw smoke flowing out from one of the windows of the tower. He could have sworn he heard the distant sound of someone yelling obscenities.
The door of the tower then opened with a loud groan and squeak of its hinges. Khadgar looked and found himself staring at a tall, slender gentleman that reminded him a little of a weasel. The man’s hair was dark brown, reaching just above his shoulders and well kept. He was dressed in fine red and black suit. But the detail that took away from his immaculate appearance was that he was wearing horse’s blinders.
Khadgar watched as the man who had brought a broom and dustpan began to clean up the glass. It was then he found his voice and spoke up. “U-um, e-excuse me, sir…?”
At first, the man in red didn’t respond. It was after another attempt of Khadgar trying to get his attention he looked up at him. His eyes scanned over the youth, his face was a mask of pure of boredom. It was hard to tell what he was thinking as he looked the mageling over. The man then made the slightest frown before he finally spoke. “I take it you have business here?”
Khadgar caught himself staring and scrambled to hand the man his letter of introduction. “Khadgar.”
The man in red gave a confused blink before he eyed the letter but made no move to take it. Instead, he looked up at the boy with a quirked eyebrow.
“Of Dalaran.” Khadgar abruptly continued. “Khadgar of Dalaran, in the Kingdom of Lordaeron.” His face grew hot the more he talked. Words surged forward like a broken faucet. “I was sent by the Kirin Tor. In the Violet Citadel. In Dalaran. In Lordaeron.” The mageling's voice went higher in pitch with each sentence as embarrassment engulfed him.
“I see...” the man in red said before the slightest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, Khadgar of the Kirin Tor, in the Violet Citadel, in Dalaran, in Lordaeron, I am Moroes. I’m the tower steward and Castellan of Karazhan.”
“Castellan…?” Khadgar blinked and looked around at the town surrounding the tower. “That’s like a governor, isn’t it?”
“Hmm, awfully astute of you...” Moroes said in a mild sarcastic tone. He then set the dustpan and broom aside and clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes, Master Medivh owns the tower and the land surrounding it. It’s my job to keep things in ship shape and running while he performs his duties.”
Khadgar blinked, his eyes widened a little. “Is the magus a nobleman?”
Moroes gave a small shrug. “He is, but the most the Master calls himself is an ‘over glorified landlord’.”
“I-I see...” Khadgar said. “M-may I meet with him?”
Moroes he reached into his pocket and took out a pocket watch. With a click, it opened and he looked at the time. “Hmm, it’s not ungodly late yet, I suppose it should be fine.” Moroes snapped the watch closed and slipped it in his pocket. “Perhaps a visitor will put him off working on that mechanical monstrosity late into the night.”
Khadgar eyes were drawn up towards the broken window far above. He couldn’t help but wonder about the explosion from earlier. A loud clearing of the throat brought his attention back to Moroes, who was waiting for him in the doorway.
“Did you want to come in or do you wish to sleep under the stars tonight?” asked the Castellan, his voice never losing its ‘ho-hum’ tone.
Khadgar jumped slightly then followed him through the door. With his first step inside the tower, Khadgar felt goosebumps rise from his skin. There was an odd presence to his new surroundings, time itself felt strange as if it slowed for a moment.
Khadgar followed Moroes while allowing his eyes to drink in every detail they could. He saw carvings of horses that lined the higher parts of the walls that led to the entrance of what appeared to be stables. A loud clearing of the throat from Moroes urged Khadgar to hurry his pace. They passed through a crafted stone archway; Khadgar's boots thumped heavily against marble stairs that led to a ballroom.
“Master Medivh is up in his study, we’ll be taking the servants’ shortcuts to get there in quicker time.” Moroes explained as he looked over his shoulder to Khadgar. “So please try to keep up, the last thing you’d want is to get lost here.”
“Yes, sir!” Khadgar said while walking faster.
Keeping up with Moroes was easier said than done. As soon as the pair slipped into the servants’ passageways the Castellan moved at a brisk pace. Khadgar was surprised such a lanky looking man could move so gracefully. The man glided across the floor like a specter, his movements fluid and soundless.
The servants’ passages were hidden and had no windows. After all, nobody wanted to see servants; perhaps nobody wanted to see the young mage either. The walls around them were winding and terribly narrow, claustrophobic. Khadgar followed Moroes around corners and up and down stairs. The layout of the passageways made no sense; it shouldn’t have been possible. It left Khadgar feeling disoriented. At one point he lost sight of the lanky man. Khadgar’s gut twisted in a panic until he spied the flick of a coattail from around a corner. With a sprint, he desperately tried to catch up. It almost seemed the Castellan was secretly trying to lose him. To leave the young mage lost and left to wander in a maze until his death.
The horrifying thought was cut short when Khadgar rammed into Moroes’ back. He stumbled back a bit and saw the Castellan was waiting for him next to a door.
Moroes dusted himself off before opening the door. “This way.”
Khadgar hurried out of the passageway and was greeted by the sight of a balcony. He walked towards the railing and his eyes grew wide at the sight of an incredible library down below. Its size shouldn’t have been possible yet there it was. There were different levels with walls lined with bookshelves. Large tapestries that hung between windows emblazoned with fantastic beasts and mythic figures. The floors were decorated with an elegant pattern of star-like shapes and circles. Looking up Khadgar saw more balconies and bridges that led to a number of rooms and different sections. He felt a strong urge to go see what was up there but he had to reign his curiosity in, he needed to focus.
Moroes led Khadgar to another, more discreet door, opened it and allowed the young mage inside. “This is Master Medivh’s personal study, pardon the mess.”
The study had two levels to it, an upper level that had a display of a number of planets that surrounded a gigantic, moving astrolabe. Khadgar stared at it in awe before his gaze moved upward to thousands of small, glittering lights that floated above the display. His jaw fell slack when he realized that it was a map of the stars. Khadgar had never seen anything like it in Dalaran, not even in the Violet Citadel.
“Close your mouth, you’re not a codfish.” Moroes chided while continuing ahead.
Khadgar followed Moroes down into the lower level of the study. It certainly looked much more ‘lived in’ compared to the upper level. While still beautiful with the continued motif stars and planets it was much less tidy. The young mage noticed various books stacked about on tables, shelves, and even the floor. Khadgar’s keen eye caught some of the titles. While there were texts on magic and science, they were mixed in with fiction books. He recognized titles of adventure novels, dramas, romance and...erotica. There was a shameless collection of smutty books that were kept together in their own little area of the study.
“An...avid reader, I take it?” Khadgar asked before he looked at Moroes, not wanting to lose the man.
“Yes, of various things.” Moroes said as he continued to lead the boy through the room.
There were other details stood out to Khadgar. On one table was a chess set, next to it were playing cards, dice and hearthstone board that was left half open. There was a large, comfortable looking couch that obviously served as a bed. On it rested a plush animal, some sort of black bird. It looked soft, large enough that it could serve as a pillow, and well loved. An item of comfort from a time when life was much more simple. Khadgar had a favorite plush when he was a child as well. Though his was taken from him when his caregivers thought him too old to have such things.
“Over here, young man.” Moroes stood before a large wooden door, he beckoned Khadgar over before turning to face it. “This door leads to the Master’s lab, he’s shut himself in here all evening.”
Khadgar noticed that there were effigies of ravens carved into the door. Their eyes, that looked almost a little too real, felt like they were locked onto him.
Moroes reached for the door’s latch but suddenly paused. His brow knit together in a small frown as he looked at it suspiciously. Raising his hand, Moroes pressed the back of his hand against the door. “Stand back...”
“What? Why?” Khadgar asked as he took a few steps away.
Moroes didn’t answer, instead he pulled a large handkerchief from his breast pocket and wrapped it around his hand. He took hold of the door’s handle and carefully pulled it open. From within the lab came the roar of flames and a wave of intense heat that made Khadgar reel back.
It was like the door led straight into a dragon’s den. Khadgar threw his arm up to protect his eyes. The light within the room burned like hellfire, angry and ruthless. If he squinted, Khadgar could make out the silhouette of a man within the room. He blinked and winced at how his eyes ached, who could bare being in such heat?
The flames from within the room started to die down. The cool air from the rest of the study was a much-needed relief. After a few blinks, Khadgar could finally see the man in the lab clearly. They were tall, dressed in a loose-fitting shirt, a pair of trousers, and oddly no shoes on his feet. Their long, raven hair was tied back into a messy tail and a pair of work goggles shielded his eyes.
But what made Khadgar nervous was the fact the strange man was wielding a lit welding torch. It’s flame burned so bright that it hurt one’s eyes to look at it directly. The magical energy that radiated from it made Khadgar suspect that the tool was meant to imitate a dragon’s fire.
The torch-wielding man looked up at the clockwork golem. “Curator, how are you holding up? Didn’t fry anything too badly, did I?”
“Checking systems...” the golem spoke, much to Khadgar’s surprise. Its gears turned and the runes carved in its metal frame glowed dimly. “Language circuits received minor heat damage. Speech functions are still operational. However, the wrong blueberries may get used from time to butterscotch.”
After the heat died down Moroes walked into the study, motioning for the fledgling mage to follow. With a loud 'hurrumph' he caught the man’s attention. Moroes then spoke in a stern, commanding tone that made Khadgar jump. “Master Medivh, you have a guest!”
“Huh?” Medivh looked at them, his head canting in a bird-like way. “Oh!”
The magus set the blowtorch aside on a worktable. A number of burns and stains of dirt and sweat marred his clothing, it all smelled of oil and metal. Khadgar noticed that aside from the goggles and gloves, Medivh wasn’t wearing much else for protection at all.
“None too scorched I hope...” Medivh pushed up his work goggles to rest atop his head. His eyes were forest green, dark circles under them was the telltale sign that the magus was lacking sleep. Yet his eyes still held a certain shine in them that contrasted to the rest of Medivh’s dirty face.
“Not as bad as your gloves.” Moroes said while resting his hands on his hips. “Speaking of which, one of them is on fire.”
“What?” Medivh looked at his work gloves and sure enough one of them had caught fire. Startled, the magus gasped before pulling the glove off and throwing it to the ground. “Gah! Damn it! You’d think ‘flame-resistant gloves’ would do as the name implies and actually resist flames!”
The golem, or ‘curator’ as Medivh called it, moved its arm in a convulsive motion and pointed it at the magus. With a loud ‘clang’ a nozzle popped out of a compartment in its wrist. “Fire threat detected. Extinguishing.”
Medivh looked at the curator and threw up his hands in a poor attempt to shield himself. “Wait, stop! No! No! N--”
Lines on the curator’s frame began to glow. Much like a mage, it gathered moisture from the air, converted it into water and sprayed its master. The fire was put out but Medivh had been thrown right off his feet.
“The fire has been extinguished.” the curator announced, sounding rather pleased with itself. “Master Medivh is safe.”
Medivh was sprawled out on the floor. With an effort he sat himself up and coughed, spitting up some water. “Yes, you saved me.” Medivh said before coughing once more. “You’ve earned yourself a rest, take a nap Curator.”
“Understood, entering ‘sleep mode’. Goodnight.” the curator announced. It slumped forward before its gears stopped turning and became little more than a clockwork statue.
“Shall I go fetch Doc?” Moroes asked.
“No, no, I’m fine. All that’s hurt is my pride.” Medivh said with a raised hand to wave the offer off. Carefully, he climbed back onto his feet and looked down at his soaked clothing. “A towel would be nice though.”
“That and some dry clothes.” Moroes added before marching towards a wardrobe. “You’ll catch your death gallivanting around like that.”
“Yes, yes, Mother Hen.” Medivh rolled his eyes before taking hold of his long, dark hair and wrung out the water. Without another word, he begun to undress, not caring that a stranger was in the room watching him.
Khadgar stood flabbergasted, his mouth agape while his face flushed at the boldness of this strange man. His eyes couldn’t look away while the magus shed his clothing, acting like the fledgling mage didn’t even exist. Khadgar's mind scrambled to put together the puzzle set before him. There was no way this was Medivh Aran. There had to be a mistake. Perhaps a large, elaborate joke at Khadgar's expense. This man was far too disorderly to command such respect from his fellow magi.
Moroes returned with a towel and fresh set of clothes for his master. He glanced at Khadgar and saw the boy was gawking. With a roll of his eyes, Moroes reached over and gently lifted the boy’s chin and closed his mouth. “What did I tell you earlier? Stop impersonating a fish.”
Medivh sauntered towards the pair. The young mage could feel himself being picked apart as the magus quietly studied him. His eyes came to an abrupt halt at the thick, white stripe in the boy’s hair. “Is that some sort of fashion trend?”
Khadgar’s face flushed red before he covered the streak of white with his hand. Being teased for having a ‘skunk’s stripe’ since childhood had made him embarrassed about it. “No, sir.”
“Who are you?” Medivh sniffed and wiped his nose before taking the towel Moroes offered him. He took a moment to wipe the oil and dirt from his face before drying himself off.
“My name’s Khadgar, sir...” Khadgar spoke up. His eyes started to trail down the older mage’s body.
If he had to guess, Medivh had to be in his early to mid-thirties which was young by mage standards. It was strange that the Kirin Tor would be so insistent that someone Medivh's age should take an apprentice. Khadgar couldn't stop himself from continuing to study the older man's body. Dare he think it, the magus wasn't unpleasant to look at. He couldn't deny that Medivh was attractive but what stood out the most was that his skin was marred with numerous scars. Some were old and fading while others looked much newer and eerily fresh. Many of them had a certain viciousness that couldn't have been from backfiring experiments.
"Battle scars...?" Khadgar muttered to himself. His gaze continued to move even lower before his face flushed hotly as it blushed red. He immediately forced himself to look away.
“And what business do you have with me?” Medivh asked while starting to redress himself. The young mage then shoved the letter of introduction at him almost hitting the magus in the chest. The wax seal of the violet eye stared back at Medivh, almost tauntingly so. A look of disgust spread across his face as if the boy just handed him a cockroach.
“My name is Khadgar I’ve-”
“Been sent by the Kirin Tor.” Medivh finished for him in a blunt drawl. Without another word, he plucked the envelope from Khadgar’s hand and walked towards the study’s fireplace. He gave the envelope a brief look before tossing it into the hungry flames.
Khadgar made a loud, strangled whine that caught Medivh and Moroes off guard. The two watched as the boy turned deathly pale as his future went up in smoke. Lab equipment that sat on a nearby worktable began to rattle violently. One of the glass beakers was knocked off of it by an unseen force and shattered when it hit the ground.
Medivh looked at the broken glass on the floor, then to the shattered window of his lab. He frowned as he quietly contemplated something before turning to face Moroes. “Is the boy ill?”
“Perhaps worn out.” the Castellan said with a slight shrug. “We took some shortcuts and it may have left him a tad winded.”
“Th-the letter!” Khadgar finally managed to form words.
“What of it?” Medivh asked, his tone cold. “Oh, wait, let me guess what it says!” he cleared his throat before speaking gracefully but laced with sarcasm. “‘Great Magus Medivh, Lord of Karazhan, we send you greetings from the Kirin Tor, the magical authority of Dalaran, the adviser to kings, protectors, preservers, and teachers of the magical arts…blah, blah, blah, you get the gist, right? They always fluff up their own importance before getting to what they want.”
“I-I wouldn’t know, I was told not to read it.” Khadgar said.
“But you did, didn’t you?” Medivh challenged him, his eyes took on a slight glow. He looked dangerous, like a cat about to toy with a mouse. “Granted, I would too if I was sent all the way out here from Lordaeron,” Medivh smirked. “I’ll admit that you’re clever, I almost missed that the seal was tampered with.”
Khadgar swallowed. “How did you know what it said though?”
“Magic, of course!” Medivh said as a wolf-like grin flashed across his face. “As soon as I touched it the words just flowed into my brain.”
“...Really?” Khadgar asked, a little uncertain.
“Of course not, that’s just silly!” Medivh said before laughing. “No, the fact is, you’re not the first one the Kirin Tor has sent to me. I’ve read that damned letter plenty of times already.”
Khadgar’s hand pressed against his stomach when he felt it twist, he felt sick. “H-how...How many have they sent…?”
“Hmm, let’s see, you are...” Medivh made a show of looking thoughtful. “Oh my, you’re lucky number thirteen, fancy that!”
Khadgar’s heart grew heavy and began to sink like a stone. He had no illusions that his sudden assignment was for his accomplishments as a student. But this felt cruel. “Th-thirteen…?”
“Yes, so to commemorate the occasion we’ll avoid all the hassle your predecessors went through.” Medivh said as though it were a benevolent act. “I’m not ready to take on an apprentice and I want your masters to stop harassing me.”
“N-no, wait, I-I…Y-you don't understand!” the words tumbled from Khadgar’s mouth as panic washed over him like a tidal wave. “Sir, please! I don’t have any means of going back!”
“If you wasted your funds like an idiot, that’s your problem, not mine.” Medivh said while waving a hand, like shooing the issue away like a pesky fly.
“I didn’t waste anything! I was barely given enough to get here!” Khadgar snapped, he felt power behind his words and a short gust of wind. He tried to reign himself in immediately but saw the wind had blown against the magus.
Khadgar may as well had made an offending gesture at Medivh. The older mage glared at him, his green eyes became venomous. He called arcane power to one of his hands forming a crackling ball of violet light in his palm. Khadgar backed away but before the magus could throw it at him Moroes stepped in his path.
“Medivh, calm yourself.” the Castellan drawled in a stern tone. He acted as though he weren’t in the way of a deadly spell. Perhaps he simply didn’t care, it was hard to tell since Moroes’ face was an aloof mask. He stood his ground and didn't flinch while Medivh scrambled to stop himself from striking the servant. “Are you really going to drench your hands with the blood of a child?”
“It doesn’t help that the so-called 'child' is walking powder keg!” Medivh snapped while glaring at Moroes. Regardless, the Castellan stood firm and unfazed, he simply gave a firm stare of his own. A look that was reminiscent of a parent when they scolded an ornery brat. A silent minute passed before Medivh's eyes finally softened, his gaze shifted back to Khadgar. “You have a hard time controlling your emotions, don’t you?”
Khadgar swallowed and broke eye contact. “...S-sometimes, sir. But I'm-”
“And that can make for volatile magic." Medivh interrupted him. "Quite dangerous to yourself and others should you never learn to control yourself.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked cautiously curious. “Is that why they sent you to me? They thought I’d take you on as a challenge or something?”
Khadgar huffed out an irritated sigh. “Maybe you would have known if you hadn’t burned the letter.”
Medivh gave a befuddled blink. He looked like someone had slapped him in the face. Both mages caught the sound of a loud snort that escaped Moroes before he turned away from them. Khadgar noticed the servant trembling, he could have sworn he heard a small, stifled laugh.
“I...I-I...Well, that’s!...Th-the letter...” Medivh’s retort died into silence. He eyed the fireplace while trying to think of an argument. A moment passed before the corner of Magus’ mouth twitched and formed into an amused smirk. “Huh, well I’ll be damned, you actually got me!" He broke out into a hearty laugh. It echoed throughout his lab and lifted the heavy tension with it like it were a mere feather. "You have a little bite to you! I admit it, I like that.”
Khadgar felt a small swell of satisfaction in his chest, as petty as it might have been.
Medivh's eyes searched the boy, looking for something Khadgar couldn't quite comprehend. Perhaps it was dishonesty. If that was the case then he had nothing to hide. “So, you claim the Kirin Tor have done you a huge disservice?”
Khadgar blinked at the question, his hands began to fidget a little. “Well, surely it wasn’t on purpos-”
“They said nothing of their other twelve attempts to push their people onto me.” Medivh interrupted him. “Furthermore, they sent you all the way to Stormwind with barely enough funds to get here. Is that correct?” He then snapped his fingers in rapid succession. “Come on, be quicker than that, a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will do.”
“Y-yes, sir!” Khadgar answered abruptly.
“These are serious accusations, boy.” Medivh said. His tone then shifted, sounding almost sympathetic. “Yet not all that surprising. You’re certainly the youngest they've sent to me. I wonder, what did you do that got under their skin?”
“I...I don’t want to talk about that...” Khadgar said, looking away from the magus.
“No need to then.” Medivh said while giving a small shrug. “But I suppose Moroes has a point. I'd rather not have your blood on my hands. Turning you away would be like killing you myself." Medivh lightly tapped his cheek with a finger and looked thoughtful. "I’m feeling a little generous today.”
Khadgar looked up at Medivh hopefully. “Sir…?”
“You could stay as one of the tower’s staff for a little while.” Medivh suggested. “Until you’ve earned enough money to safely return to Dalaran. That’s my offer to you, take it or leave it.”
Khadgar chewed on his lower lip, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’ll take it, sir.”
Medivh's eyes shined with mischief, their green color reminded Khadgar of poison. "Welcome to Karazhan."
-o-o-End of Chapter 1-o-o-
I hope you enjoyed reading. If you’re interested in checking out the rest of the fic, it can be found here on AO3:
A Twist of Fate
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Sekhi of the Singing Sands, Vulpera Shamaness
(Artist's Rendition of Sekhi by xHyperwolfx )
Important Stories:
The Song of the World: As a young girl in Vol'dun, Sekhi hears the voice of the elements one fateful night and awakens as a Shaman.
The New Hire: After the close of the Blood War, Sekhi arrives in Bilgewater Harbor and seeks to join Savage United.
The Singing Sands: When Ardenweald falls under siege from Zovall's Mawsworn armies, Sekhi's true power as a shaman becomes known.
Race: Vulpera
Class: Shaman, Elemental
Age: 23
Eye Color: Yellow
Birthplace, Vol'dun, the Isle of Zandalar
Residence: Orgrimmar, the Valley of Strength
Abilities:
The Song of the World: Sekhi's tie to the elements is unusually strong. She hears the elements as a sort of constant music, as if her whole life has 'background music' that only she can hear. To her each element sounds like different types of instruments, while Spirit and Decay resemble voices raised in song. That being said, this has a severe drawback. She can't turn it off, and the song of places that have been corrupted or have seen great bloodshed (Felwood, Darkshore, Deadwind Pass, The Blasted Lands, etc) are actually painful for her to hear. Some songs can even injure or potentially kill her... For examples of what the songs of various places sound like, click here.
Spiritsong: Following her time in the Shadowlands Sekhi has become able to hear the songs of individual people. Some songs are louder than others to her senses, but everyone has a unique song that she can hear if she focuses on them for a few moments. As with the Song of the World, a powerful being's song can have unwanted effects however... hearing Raszageth's song was so overwhelming that it actually electrified her body, causing Shalandrae to become shocked when she tried to touch her shoulder.
The Singing Sands: Sekhi's connection to the elements is strong, so strong that in times of stress the elements can work through her to such a degree that it's akin to possession. The most powerful expression of this is the technique called 'The Singing Sands.' Sekhi enters a trance-like state and takes out two items, her wooden flute and a pouch of desert sand from her homeland of Vol'dun. She will cast the pouch into the air and begin playing her flute, conjuring a massive windstorm. When it strikes the pouch the sand erupts forth, caught by the wind, and each grain explosively multiplies to create a terrible sandstorm. During this, Sekhi will continue to play her flute and dance, her dance summoning the souls of the vulpera who perished during the Blood War to join the storm. This spell utterly decimates EVERYTHING around Sekhi, friend OR foe! While the spirits will only attack those who threaten Sekhi herself, the sandstorm is a sandstorm. It cannot differentiate between her enemies and allies. The effort of using such power is exhausting to the vulpera, usually leaving her unconscious. Sekhi never remembers using this power when she wakes up.
Harvester: Growing up in Vol'dun means you learn to make do with very little. Sekhi is extremely skilled with a skinning knife and carving knife, able to harvest an animal for anything even remotely useful. She is able to craft armor from scales as well, but her main talent is finding choice cuts of meat on even the smallest of creatures and recognizing edible parts from inedible (or even dangerous) ones.
History
Growing up in Vol'dun is not an easy thing for anyone. The constant risk of resources running low in the desert, predators hiding in the dunes, and the predations of the Faithless and desperate Zandalari outlaws banished to the sands are ever present… but Sekhi managed as well as any vulpera could.
She had always been an odd kid however. She was easily distracted, spoke of hearing sounds nobody else could hear, and the like. Her parents worried about her until, shortly after she turned thirteen, the reason for this became clear. The night of her thirteenth birthday, when Sekhi sat near the campfire late one night at the Vulpera Hideaway… Azeroth called to her.
Not called, SANG to her.
The members of the caravan awoke to see Sekhi in a trance-like state, playing her flute and dancing as the flames fo the campfire swirled around her, the earth beating in time with her steps, the wind howling in symphony with her song, and the well nearby close to bursting with water as if trying to join her. Sekhi hadn't been just hearing sounds, she had been hearing the Elements! On that day, she awoke as a Shaman.
To Sekhi, the elements are an ever-present form of music that she hears constantly, each element sounding different to her and each region of Azeroth having a unique song to her ears. This song allowed her to help her caravan avoid threats and find treasures and resources they would have otherwise missed in their travels… until the betrayal of General Jakrazet and the Faithless' attempt to free the C'thraxxi horror that hid beneath the sands of Vol'dun, sealed away by the Loa Ssethralis.
After the defeat of the usurper Zul and the end of the Blood War, several Vulpera caravans travelled to Orgrimmar, including Sekhi's. She felt like she wanted to do more than just be her caravan's shaman, the song was urging her to take a more active role in the Horde as a whole… and then she found a flyer advertising a mercenary company ran by a goblin in the nearby city of Bilgewater Harbor, Grimo's Savage United (LLC.) Soon afterwards Sekhi, with the help of the tauren Nitika Dawnhoof ensuring that Grimo didn't try to trap her in an extremely unfair contract, joined their team.
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MiqoMarch Day 2: Home
"In this village dwells the U tribe of Miqo'te, who live on water from the oasis and game from the Sagolii Desert. In times past, it was a stop for traders on the road to Cape Deadwind, the southernmost point of Aldenard. After continued pirate attacks sent the coastal area into decline, however, fewer and fewer travelers passed through the Springs, and now Ul'dah has all but forgotten it exists."
And once upon a time.....
.....U'reksh Tia called it "home".
Maybe even nowadays, some part of him still does.
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It was the frantic wailing of Blind Mary that alerted Jairius that something was very wrong outside of Darkshire. Bane’s hooves thundered over the wet road as Jairius hurried towards the sound. It was the middle of the day, but in Duskwood that meant it was just as dark as midnight. He didn’t need sunlight to see where he was going, though. The Light flashed through the trees like an abrupt and very localized sunrise, and Bane balked at the edge of consecrated ground, his hooves sizzling. Jairius grabbed his runeblade and ventured further on foot.
There, in front of Blind Mary’s cabin, stood Aradrius, his shield raised, using the Light to fend off attack by...a Rider. Behind Aradrius floated Blind Mary, something clutched to her chest, screaming in fear. Aradrius’s ears were bleeding from the banshee’s wails, but he resolutely kept his shield raised, weathering blow after blow from the Rider before him.
Ghostmaw! Come! Attack the Dark Rider! Show this minion of Medivh why he shouldn’t challenge the Scourge! A roar from above, and the frostwyrm landed behind the Dark Rider, forcing the undead thing to skitter backwards away from Aradrius and the dragon, or end up with her jaws around his midsection.
That was when Jairius attacked. Attacked...by controlling as many of the nearby undead as he could, sending the hapless ghouls to mob the Rider. None of them could do enough damage to hurt the thing, but they could keep it off balance, keep it from being able to mount a good offense. Then Jairius leapt into the fray himself. His runeblade, Oathbreaker, didn’t cry out in hunger, but in eagerness. It didn’t need the soul, the blood, not like the newer paired blades that were still so young, but Oathbreaker did enjoy taking life...unlife. Jairius rushed to Aradrius’s side, and together the two brothers, along with the horde of undead under Jairius’s control, began to drive the Dark Rider back.
At least until the Rider’s back hit the side of Blind Mary’s house. Then the Rider stopped retreating. Ghostmaw let loose with a blast of punishingly cold frost that slowed its movements. Aradrius’s Light burned where it touched any of the undead, but especially the Rider, as if Aradrius was trying hard to concentrate it on the threat. The blood magic Jairius employed stole the vigor from the Rider, slowing its movements. It seemed as though they would win. Before Oathbreaker could descend for the final blow, though, the Rider gave a determined cry and thrust its sword out. Out, and into Aradrius’s chest.
Jairius snarled and brought the runeblade down, half-severing the Dark Rider’s head. He felt the subtle pull as the runeblade tried to devour the Rider’s soul, but whatever magic bound the Rider to Duskwood and Deadwind Pass was also stronger than the death knight’s runeblade. Jairius kicked the dead not-dead thing and slung his blade over his back so he could kneel to check over Aradrius.
The paladin had collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He lay in a heap at Jairius’s feet, bleeding profusely from a gaping hole in his chest. Jairius didn’t need to ask anyone. He knew. His voice was a quiet growl. “You’re dying, Aradrius.”
The paladin coughed up blood. “No. No. Mary. Was helping...need to...” He tried to get up, but didn’t have the strength.
Jairius eyed the paladin. “What were you doing?” He looked over to Mary, who looked on mournfully but didn’t explain. “A healer can’t help you, Aradrius, there’s too much damage. If you’re determined, I can call Adahlissa, but you know what that means. The two of us together are powerful enough to bring you back...but necromancy can’t restore life. You know that.”
Aradrius didn’t have the energy to speak. He simply nodded. Once. Before he succumbed to blood loss and pain and passed out. His breathing rasped, then he was still.
Jairius knelt to pick the paladin up and tied him to Ghostmaw’s saddle. He released his control over the lesser undead and climbed into the frostwyrm’s saddle. “Darkshire, Ghostmaw, I need to pick up Lissa. Then we’re headed to Raven Hill. There are enough necromancers there on a regular basis, we may as well make use of what they’ve left behind.”
While they were waiting on Lissa to get her things, Jairius penned a note for Thomas and for Cartery:
Thomas, Cartery,
There was an attack this afternoon. A Rider attacked my brother, Aradrius, while he was helping the banshee, Blind Mary, with something. He wasn’t able to tell me what it was or what drew the Rider, the Rider landed a killing blow before I could temporarily incapacitate it.
Aradrius voiced a desire for Adahlissa and I to bring him back. Whatever he was working on, it’s important enough to him to accept undeath. I won’t fight him on this. I’m leaving you this note so you know, if you hear or sense any necromancy in Raven Hill tonight, it’s probably us. Since the crypt keeps attracting necromancers, we thought we’d scour it for the materials we need instead of having to set up a fresh ritual site elsewhere.
I expect that even though Ghostmaw and I were able to nearly part the Rider from its head, it’s only a temporary inconvenience. Whatever animates it wouldn’t allow my runeblade to do any permanent damage to the Rider’s soul, so once it recovers, it might be back. Hopefully there’s nothing around Blind Mary’s cabin that will attract it back here. I think I saw her hiding something, but I’m not sure what it was.
I will be back once I’ve taken care of my brother.
Your friend,
Jairius Frostsworn
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Wow tbc 2.4.3 warrior dps guide
You’ll find the front entrance as a gated crypt with the summoning stone nearby. From there, follow the curved green path to find the tower of Karazhan. The easiest way is to reach it through Duskwood, exiting through the east. Warrior DPS in the Burning Crusade has two different specs, Arms and Fury, that bring different flavors to the class and different benefits to the raid: Fury Warriors dual wield one-handers and bring no utility, the value of a Fury Warrior is solely set in the amount of damage they are bringing to the raid. The entrance to Karazhan is located in the southern portion of Deadwind Pass, which offers little else in the area. Note that it is far more convenient to have all raid members complete attunement because whoever does have the key will need to constantly zone out and open the door for anyone stuck outside the raid.įor an in-depth explanation check out our full-length Karazhan Attunement Guide! Accessing the Entrance It can be started near the entrance to the raid in Deadwind Pass and will unlock the Karazhan quest line after it is complete. Unfortunately, it is quite long and requires completion of several quests and dungeons, a few of which have an attunement process of their own. Without further ado, let’s get started on Burning Crusade Classic’s introductory in-depth raiding experience! Attunementīefore entering Karazhan, at least one raid member will need to complete an attunement process to acquire The Master Key, which opens the front door. You can also find a full list of Karazhan Drops and Loot over in our loot tool. The attunement process and boss guides will be summaries, but link to in-depth guides for a more thorough explanation. This time were talking about WoW TBC Classic Warrior PvE Guide: All 3 Specializations Arms, Fury, ProtClick P. We’ll cover the attunement process, how you can reach the entrance, recommended clearing routes, how to prepare for the raid, and overviews of each boss encounter. Hey guys Toyhouze here with another video. Our guide aims to help you understand how to prepare for Karazhan and give you an overlay of what you’ll be expecting. This means there are several mechanics to learn and a lot to plan for. Most of the encounters are interesting and fun, which gives a lot of variety to the raid. Many drops serve as upgrades to dungeon-acquired and crafted gear.
While most of the fights are optional, they are highly recommended as the gear they drop are worth the time. The 7 optional fights include the hardest boss in the raid, Nightbane, who is deemed the true final boss of Karazhan. There are 11 fights of varying difficulty, although only 4 encounters are required to reach the “last” boss, Prince Malchezaar. Thanks for taking a look at our strategy guide for Karazhan in The Burning Crusade Classic! The massive zone of Karazhan is found in Deadwind Pass and is the first large raid of the expansion.
PvE Discipline Priest Healing Menu Toggle.
Aldor also has a great early game chest, the. in the long term when you reach the defense cap more easily. The Aldor shoulder enchant, Greater Inscription of Warding. Increasing the warrior armor,and making him receive a smaller amount of damage and giving him new defensive abilities.This spec makes form warrior the best tank in the game. We recommend going Aldor as a Protection Warrior in TBC Classic. The protection talent build is only for raids. It makes from warrior a very good dps.Because slam with casting time of 0.5 sec the player will cause immense damage.This spec can be used also very easily in pvp. The fury talent build is mostly created for raids. Optional items are listed for every slot. Our goal is to do the most complete research so you don't have to. The Arms talent build helps the player to deal a great amount of damage using his weapon.If you play with a 2 handed weapon this is the best spec for you.Two handed-weapons specialization and mortal strike will reduce your opponents hit points very quickly. Phase 3 Bis Lists and Boss Guides are now live These are hand-crafted BiS lists that aim to maximize your characters' power by putting together the best combination of items. The warrior,in world of warcraft is one of the most important classes in the game.Without a warrior,a raid can’t be made(usually).The Warrior is the best tank in the game,a great dps and is great in pvp.It can easily reduce the movement speed of the enemies and than crush them.Against the classes that wear only cloth armor is lethal.An warrior can kill a player with cloth armor with only 1 strike.
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<Macrochelys> first and second Atiesh ✨
#world of warcraft#warcraft#vanilla wow#classic wow#turtle wow#private server#macrochelys#atiesh#karazhan#deadwind pass#screenshot#maxie#saskia#character screenshots
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breathe easier
prompt: seeing double, working to exhaustion, "you look awful"
whumpee: sakari nurmi
fandom: karppi/deadwind
hiii managed to get all three in here today! hope you like it :)
It has been several days since he’s had a proper night’s sleep. He finds himself continually jolting awake every time he finally closes his eyes, and these interrupted fractions of rest make him more tired than simply not trying to sleep at all.
It’s this case. He knows that. A husband and wife have been killed, and opinions in the department range from a double murder on one hand to a murder-suicide on the other.
Sofia believes it’s murder-suicide. She keeps looking at him, has been doing it all week, like she thinks she’s being sneaky about it. He wonders why she doesn’t say anything. He’s sure she wants to.
He himself hasn’t given his opinion. He does not want to - cannot let himself - be wrong. And so he’s poured all of his energy into the investigation, sacrificing his bed for his desk chair and ingesting truly horrific amounts of espresso in pursuit of the truth.
It is Thursday morning, and he has been working for twenty-four hours straight. Not officially, of course, but still. It’s around the time when the early birds start trickling into the building.
Sakari heads for the bathroom, splashes some water on his face, fixes his hair, then steps into the hallway amidst several of his coworkers as though he, too, has just arrived.
He makes himself a cup of espresso. His hands shake, just a little. He ignores them. He’s exhausted, but at the same time the arrival of morning, of other people, has given him some energy.
He sits down at his desk, sets down the espresso, and opens the file he’d been looking at a few minutes before. He thinks it might be the key, but he’s only halfway through it and cannot be sure. He needs to be sure.
Sofia arrives a few minutes past the hour. She says good morning to him, snatches the espresso off of his desk, and sits at her own desk, folding her legs into the chair.
Sakari looks at her. Part of him wants to laugh and part of him wants to shout. She holds the cup out to him, raises her eyebrows.
He stands to retrieve it, and suddenly his vision blurs and doubles. He grabs onto the edge of his desk and sinks back into his chair, shutting his eyes. Fuck, he’s dizzy.
“Nurmi?”
He opens his eyes and looks up at Sofia, or rather, at the pair of Sofias standing over him. He quickly shuts his eyes again.
Her hand is on his shoulder, then her cold fingers touch his cheek.
“You look awful.”
He cracks one eye open. “Thanks.”
“I mean it. Are you sick? You don’t feel warm.”
He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.”
“Can we not talk about this?”
“You mean, about whatever’s wrong with you?”
He opens his eyes and there is only one of Sofia. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”
Sofia opens her mouth to say something else, and Sakari can’t - he can’t.
He stands up, pushing past her and resolutely ignoring the way his head spins and his vision once again goes to shit. He’s fine, and he’s going somewhere else. Somewhere she isn’t.
He finds himself on the break room couch, elbows resting on his knees, head buried in his hands. He feels like absolute shit. The lack of sleep has finally caught up with him, not to mention the guilt steadily building at how he’d treated Sofia. She’d been trying to help. He just - he isn’t used to that, doesn’t like it. But that’s hardly her fault.
He should apologize. Explain himself. But he’s so tired, and the thought of standing up again seems all but impossible.
He doesn’t have to stand up. Perhaps ten minutes pass, and then Sofia is standing in front of him with her arms crossed. He cannot read the expression on her face.
“I’m sorry,” he says, before she can say anything.
She blinks. “Okay. What’s going on with you? It’ll be better if you tell me.”
He shrugs, takes a breath. “I haven’t been sleeping. I just can’t.”
Sofia sits beside him. “Because of the case?”
He nods, not looking at her. “I have to - we have to find out what exactly happened.”
“Yes.”
“And I have to, be sure. Really sure.”
“Okay," she replies, and that is that.
He feels a little lighter for having told her. Like some of the weight has been removed from his shoulders.
“I need to sleep.”
“But you can’t?”
He shakes his head. “I keep thinking.”
“Couldn’t you at least lie down?”
He shrugs. “I guess. But I keep getting back up.”
“Hm.”
It’s a problem. He does not see any way to solve it, except to solve their case. But he cannot go on like this for much longer, and the investigation still has a long way to go.
“Would it be better if someone was with you?” Sofia asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to try something?”
“Okay.”
Sofia gets up. He thinks she means for him to follow her, but when he attempts to stand she shakes her head. “Just a second.”
He leans back against the cushions and waits.
Sofia returns after a few minutes with her box of files and laptop, sitting beside him again. “I’ll work here, and you can rest. Then, you know someone is still looking at the case.”
He nods. This is okay. He trusts Sofia, knows how dedicated she is. Anything he’d be able to do with those files, he’s sure she’s just as capable of. It’ll be fine if he doesn’t work for a short while. It’ll be fine.
He folds himself up on the couch and closes his eyes. He doesn’t sleep, exactly, but he lies there and listens to the keys clacking, feels Sofia’s hand absentmindedly play with his hair, and breathes a little easier.
thanks for reading!!!! love u all <3
#whumptober2023#no.26#seeing double#working to exhaustion#you look awful#karppi#deadwind#fic#sakari nurmi#exhaustion#my writing#i say things#you guys. i am 21 in less than a week. how on earth am i getting so oldddd what!!#not that being 21 Means Anything here. only day i wish i was in the us lmao#hating my titles lately and been hunting desperately thru my music library for suitable lyrics and coming up empty :((((
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