#Durnholde

[scourge-lover]

Arthas Timeline, from Paladin to Lich King

 A friend asked me to summarize Arthas’s induction as a paladin all the way to his defeat as Lich King in a more convienent way than the wiki, so I decided to oblige them. It’s kind of fun summarizing it in my own words mostly! 

This first part is when Arthas becomes a Paladin, to when he becomes a deathknight. More Parts to Follow. 

Part One

At 19 years old, Arthas went to Stormwind to become a Knight of the Silverhand. This is when he met baby Anduin. Sometime after is when he saw Thrall in Durnholde Keep still as a gladiator. After, Invincible suffered the fatal accident and Arthas had to put him down. Arthas visited Dalaran and spent time with Jaina. This went on for some time, and Arthas invited Jaina to Lordaeron to celebrate both NobleGarden and Hallow's End. Their relationship basically became public at that point. They slept together during Hallow's End. For the Winter Veil Party, Arthas realized things were moving too fast and ended the relationship. Arthas was one of the jurors during Tirion's trial that ended in the old paladin's excommunication and exile. Orcs started to break free from the internment camps and Arthas went to Strahnbrad with Uther to defend the town from raiding orcs. This is when Arthas killed the black dragon Searinox. They defeated the blackrock clan leader who was leading the raids. A plague started to effect Lordaeron and there is official confirmation that Arthas is 24 years old at this time. Jaina comes to join him because the Archmage thinks the plague is magical in nature. They discover undead and an infested granary which lead them to Brill and Kel'thuzad, whom they pursue to Andorhal. Andorhal's grain is discovered to have been already shipped out to outer villages. This is where Arthas kills Kelthuzad but not before he is warned about the dreadlord leading the Scourge, Mal'ganis. They stop at Hearthglen to rest, but there is news of undead coming. Jaina leaves to warn Uther and bring back help. Arthas discovers the villagers of Hearthglen have eaten infected grain and are directly turning into undead. Arthas and his forces barely hang on until Uther comes to save them. Arthas travels to Stratholme and meets Medivh, who fails to convince Arthas to leave Lordaeron to the undead and go to Kalimdor. Jaina had been following him and tries to tell him that Medivh might be right, but Arthas ignores her advice, determined to defend his home and people. Stratholme's grain has already been distributed and baked for the townspeople to consume. Uther catches up in time for Arthas to order a purge of the entire city. Uther refuses and Arthas strips him of command. Uther and Jaina leave Arthas. After killing some of the people of Stratholme, Mal'ganis shows himself and vows to meet in Northrend, spurring Arthas to chase after him. Arthas burns Stratholme and takes the royal fleet, but not before meeting with Jaina one more time and ignoring her warnings. Arthas and his men leave to Northrend, landing in Daggercap Bay. They look for a place to set up base and are attacked by Muradin Bronzebeard's explorer expedition. He tells Arthas they were looking for a rare artifact called Frostmourne when they were attacked by undead. They join forces and start searrching for any signs of Mal'ganis An emmissary comes via Zeppelin and tell Arthas's men they have been ordered to return home. The men are happy to abandon their posts and head through the forests to the ships to go home. Arthas is furious when he gets back, and they are gone. He goes and finds some mercenaries to hire and manage to reach the ships first. Then he sents fire to them but when the men finally reach the ships, they are upset. So, Arthas accuses the mercenaries of burning the ships and lets the men kill the mercenaries, much to Muradin's disgust. The only way they were leaving, Arthas said, was when they were victorious. They continue to search for Mal'ganis, who taunts Arthas about his impending death and has the undead attack the base. Muradin and Arthas leave in desperation to find Frostmourne. They manage to track it down and the Guardian attacks them not to protect the blade from them, but to protect them from the blade. They reach Frostmourne and after reading the inscription at the pedestal, realizes its cursed but Arthas declares he'll suffer any curse to protect Lordaeron and asks for the sword to be released. The ice breaks and a piece hits Muradin in the head, knocking him unconscious but Arthas assumes he is dead. He leaves with Frostmourne in hand. He easily defeats Mal'gani's army and the dreadlord himself who is shocked when Arthas tells him the Lich King is instructing Arthas to kill him. Afterwards, Arthas leaves his men and runs off into the wilderness, but later the men search for him one by one. Falric and Marwyn are killed first, and then Thassarian, and then the rest of them.

#Arthas Menethil #Lore Summary #World of Warcraft #Arthas #Lich King #Warcraft 3 #wrath of the lich king

[wowlorecraft]

Gnomish, Dwarvish, and Human leaders come together to discuss this for two purposes. The first is in the interest of Allied security. Troop and goods movement is integral in wartime, and it is pertinent to rebuild strong and fast after the last war

The second is national integration into the Alliance and straight up basic diplomacy. Dark Irons see opportunity in the Gnomish desire to fully and finally reinhabit Gnomeregan and request an extension to Shadowforge City. Fearful of the Horde's potential access to such a weak point, in this time of peace, the Alliance (through a network of spies and connections) find that the Blackrock Orcs, recently sated by the recent Kosh'arg and lead by Eitregg, a fellow Blackrock, would stay away from such a project so long as there are joint-rebuilding efforts. These would see Dark Irons, Blackrocks, and Black Drakes working together (not at all in a lovey-dovey hippy way) to rebuild and, indeed, beautify the mountain

--

Edit: With the terminus of the Aerie Peak line at Kirthaven coming into such close quarters with the Dragonmaw Orcs, Eitregg pacifies the unrest across the clans by reaching out to Gazlowe and the Bilgewater Cartel in order to contract a similar rail line, connecting Goblin, Troll, Tauren, and Orc centres on Kalimdor.

The unrest cannot be fully quelled, and this leads to conflicts Azeroth's champions can participate in. However, the expansion of the Grimrail is done in a sort of dick-measuring arms race: Between Horde and Alliance, between Gnome and Goblin, between Orc and Troll and Dwarf and Human, et cetera

--

With such a success, the Alliance start working on the second phase, bridging the span by connecting Stromgarde through Dun Algaz. The Stormpikes lead the charge, ever suspicious of the Dark Iron fraternization with the Orcs. However, while the Raventusk Trolls are (/wish to be) content in their village, the Vilebranches come to attack the construction happening across the Span. This speeds up the construction process but provides a constant PvP zone in Arathi Highlands (recalling back the olden days)

Reaching Stromgarde, the Wildhammers, Danillian Elves, and the Half Elves conspire with the Gilneans to extend the Tram both west- and north-ward. For the Alliance, this connects the two major continental ports and provides aerial manoeuvrability via the Wildhammers and increasingly sky-bound High Vale Elves

However, Durnholde has never been a stable stronghold, and its station frequently comes under attack by the Alteraci Syndicate (PvP n.2); likewise, Southshore both evolves and devolves into again a stand-off (with great peace potential) with the Forsaken.

This next bit is straight-up headcanon fiction: The extension through Southshore into Gilneas goes through Dun Modr, which gets cleaned up but requires the assistance of Calia Menethil. There, the spirits of Dwarves and Humans are restless (yadda yadda) request to be Lightborne undead. However, the Forsaken feel they have the right to that land (yadda yadda) PvP n.3 in Hillsbrad

#deeprun tram #wow #azeroth #world of warcraft #gnome #human #dwarf #high elf #quel'dorei

[mousterian-writes]

Escape to Caer Darrow!

This is about an orc who rescues an elf from the dungeons of Durnholde and they escape to the scholomance through the hinterlands. (Takes place before wc3)

I was inspired by Warlords and the expansion of some orc lore, specifically shamen who fail their initiations & pale orcs. I also found plaguemist ravine around that time and thought it was an interesting little path that lead directly to scholo.

#my writing #staff envy #thanks for the ask!

[cloakoflame]

Was Kael'thas your first muse?

In general, no. In the Warcraft community, yes! It's, really, the first and longest time I've ever written on a canon character. I like elves and wizard classes (played the crap out of Wizard in Diablo 3), but it was also right around the time I started taking an interest in Jaina Proudmoore after listening to and playing through the Culling of Stratholme dungeon. My fairly noob self at the time really enjoyed the dungeons that told a story (Escape from Durnholde was another), so I looked her up, then found Kael through her and was pretty much drawn to him right then and there. "Oh, he's an elf wizard--with unrequited love for Jaina! Oh, and he's a figurative Faust and aristocrat, too!"

Anyway, I was already into making playlists for characters from my Sonic days, so I started making one for Kael, read and studied as much as was available at the time on him, discovered he was playable in Heroes of the Storm, tried my hand at RPing him there, and that's pretty much it. He's super complex, multi-layered, everything I love in the type of characters I enjoy (and used to RP, actually)--only that imo Kael seems to take on all those types in one.

#☼ you address the sun king ( answered asks ) #☼ written by firelight ( ooc )

[sharpen-jadescythe]

WCW: Warcraft Crossfaction Wrestling

Announcer: Tonight's crossfaction wrestling Fel in a Cell brings you... Gamon versus Hogger!

Trixany: Oh come on. The meme guys are gonna fight now? This is weak!

Sharpen: *shares the popcorn* Well I mean, this crossfaction stuff can be pretty intimidating on its own. They have to start small, they don't wanna offend anyone.

Trixany: Bunch of Alliance pansies! The Humans are too afraid to go up against a real monster in the ring. Like a butch Orc, with warpaint all over him!

Sharpen: Well damn, what do you want Trix? To have Thrall go up against Genn Greymane or something?!

Trixany: Yes, and make them strip to the waist and fight in the smoking ruins of Durnholde Keep! Or, I guess Gilneas.

Sharpen: That's grounds for another war breaking out, right there.

Announcer: Oh, yes! These two are going head-to-head for the title. One man is known for taking a beating, and the other for giving one...

Sharpen: Who does what now?

Trixany: If Gamon feigns death, I'm gonna lose it.

Announcer: Hogger swarms the ring with his minions. And! He's down! Gamon is already down, ladies and gentlemen of the Horde and Alliance!! The match of the century, because we've all been wondering who would be the worst meme if ever put to the test, and Gamon has gone down completely after only five whole minutes--

Trixany: He's feigning. He's totally feigning. That's what Gamon does, he dies. Then he mysteriously comes back. That's what he's known for.

Sharpen: No, that cow is out. They are counting down, Trixany. Accept it. Alliance wins! Ha!!

Announcer: What's this? Gamon is up on his feet and holding a Pandaren-style dragon rocket launcher? This Pandaria-era hero is not out to disappoint! Could Gamon himself, savior of Orgrimmar, be getting ready to commit a Garrosh-sized war crime to get out of this one??

Trixany: Okay, I'm done. Goblin TV is what should be considered a war crime. Turn off the scrying orb, Sharpen.

Sharpen: No way! Now I know why they're doing this one down in the Stockades. It's convenient!

#desperate-alts-lives

[thetantiger]

Quick Bio: Jasper

Race: Half-Orc Class: Warrior Specialization: Fury Pronouns: She/Her

Jasper is a half-Orc, half-Human with dark markings on either side of her face, bright red hair and cherry eyes. She was conceived in Durnholde as a result of abuse upon her Orcish mother by her Human jailors. Her pregnant mother and Jasper's half-brother fled Durnholde and her brother later left to join the war effort in Northrend on behalf of the Horde, but fell at the Wrath Gate. As a result, Jasper's mother fell into a deep depression and eventually handed Jasper over to an orphanage at the age of five before committing suicide. Jasper, grown now, seeks to prove herself to the Horde despite her half-Human heritage and adventures across Azeroth while dealing with her own internal struggles and insecurities but putting on a confident and strong demeanor.

Links: Jasper's introductory mog screenshots Jasper body ref

#world of warcraft #wow oc #quick bios

[sekhisadventures]

Steel in my Hammer

Lordaeron City, Two Hours after Prince Arthas Menethil returned from Northrend

Smoke, smoke everywhere, and the stench of rotting flesh. Dareley Steelhammer, dwarf of Ironforge and Paladin of the Silver Hand smashed the rotten skull of another ghoul apart as he rushed through Lordaeron City’s streets, his short legs pumping as hard and as fast as they could.

Four hours ago the city was in celebration, their Prince had returned victorious from Northrend, the monster responsible for the plague had been banished back to the Twisting Nether and their people had been avenged. Now it was chaos. Undead everywhere, necromancers guiding them to attack and drag off anyone they could.

His armor was splattered with blood and his hammer had bits of necrotic flesh still sticking to it, his eyes wild as he prayed under his breath, “Light, guide me, protect me, dunnae let me be too late…” he whispered, heading towards the inn that he had been staying at, he and… “NO!” he shouted, the front door was splintered apart and screams were coming from inside!

He smashed his way through the remaining rubble, looking around as his beard swished about his knees, “No no no no no… not that, anythin’ but that!” he shouted, running towards the kitchen… then seeing what awaited him there, then raising his hammer and roaring in fury as he charged in and…

A few weeks later, a refugee camp near the ruins of Durnholde Keep.

Dareley awoke on his cot with a start, the dwarf’s eyes having deep bags under them. His armor had been cleaned as best he could but it was still streaked with blood and dirt. His hammer was clean enough for now, but… he heaved a weary sigh. Every night since the city fell he kept dreaming of it. He bit back a deep sob, then shook his head and muttered a faint prayer before getting to his feet. He wasn’t sleeping again after that, he knew that much.

He stepped out of the tent he and the guardsmen shared, looking eastward. Their scouts reported earlier that day. Dalaran was preparing for siege, the undead were heading directly towards Quel'thalas, and Gilneas had made their choice clear. The wall would not open for anyone, no matter the circumstances.

“Bloody Gilneas…” he grumbled. “Whole damn north is goin’ ta shite ‘n they’re gonna make like a turtle ‘n hide in their damn shell.” he scowled, heading to the campfire. “Oi, Alvis. Any news?” he asked.

Another dwarf, not a paladin but one of the survivors of the fall of Lordaeron, looked up and shook his head. “Nae. Nothin’. Th’ undead seem ta be focusin’ on headin' 'twards Silvermoon. They dunnae care 'bout us... yet.” he replied with a sigh.

“Aye, we should leave early… get as many o’ th’ survivors across th’ Thandol Span as we can. Then maybe we can… I dunnae, bomb th’ bridge or somethin’.” Dareley shrugged, “I mean, they’ll follow, not like they need ta breathe, they could just walk along th’ bloody seabed… but it’d slow ‘em down.” he nodded.

The dwarf grunted. He wasn’t happy about that idea, the bridge between Arathi and the Wetlands was a feat of Dwarven Construction that took years of effort, but bridges could be rebuilt. “Mmm…” he replied, taking a puff of a long-stemmed pipe. They’d found tobacco growing at an abandoned farmstead they’d passed and after it was determined to be free of plague, well, they needed SOMETHING to take the edge off and there wasn’t any ale.

Dareley sat by the fire as the other dwarf looked over, seeing the face between his hair and his thick bushy beard and mustache. “Bloody fel you look like shite Steelhammer.” he muttered.

“Aye… that I do.” shrugged Dareley. “Ain’t slept worth a damn since the city, doubt I will fer a long time…”

“At least ya made it out with all yer bits.” replied Alvis, shrugging and holding up a hand. Two of his fingers gone from the second knuckle. “Ain’t gonna be forging anythin’ with this… maybe m’ brother’ll let me work ‘is shop or somethin’.” he sighed. The paladins could staunch the bleeding and close the wounds, but regrowing fingers? They weren’t damn trolls.

“Nae Alvis…” he whispered, reaching under his beard and gripping a silver pendant that hung there, a shield embossed with the symbol of the Silver Hand. “Not all of ‘em…”

Alvis paused, then winced, “Shite... Dareley ‘m sorry… I fergot... I-“ he started, but the paladin waved him down.

“Lad, we all lost somethin’ back there. Ain’t a damn hour I don’t see a young gel cryin’ fer their lover or some poor orphan wantin’ ta know where their mum is.” he replies. “The dead ‘re dead. Gotta focus on th’ livin’. Get ‘em safely ta Ironforge first. There’ll be time ta mourn then.”

Alvis watched him, frowning. “… how th’ feck do ya do this Steelhammer? If it were me I’d be blubberin’ till I blacked out.” he said.

Dareley turned to him, the paladin’s eyes wet, “… ‘cause I know if I stop… I willnae be able ta start again.” he replied with a weak smile, then looked up as the sun began to creep over the horizon. “Aye, that’s enough sleep fer everyone.” he stood. The paladin was also a sergeant in the Ironforge guard and given that most any other officers were, well… yeah, he was it. Save for that one human Grand Marshal he met, but he’d be damned if he was going to follow a git like Garathos. Knowing him he’d have what was left of Lordaeron in flames by Winter’s Veil.

“Right!” he called out, “Guardsmen! Pack up ‘n douse any fires. Rouse th’ refugees ‘n have everyone ready ta move out before midday! We’ve got a long walk ta Dun Morogh ‘n we’re still too close ta the dead fer my bloody likin’! Once we get across th’ span we can consider takin’ it slower, but fer now we need ta get our arses movin! GET TO IT!” he shouted.

He and the other surviving knights had split up the refugee groups, each going to Dun Morogh by different routes. A big group would have drawn the Scourge like a moth to a flame, but at least this way they could be sure there would likely be SOME survivors.

He knew it was a harsh trek, and that they would likely have some elderly or sickly people who wouldn’t make it and they’d have to burn before reaching the Wetlands. They’d learned by now that a pile of ashes couldn’t become a zombie after all.

It would cost lives, but a tithe was better than losing everything. and the dwarf would see to it they were remembered. Dareley’s prayer book had a page in the back, blank before, where he wrote down every damn name of those they had to abandon or leave behind.

History may forget all who fell in Lordaeron, but Dareley Steelhammer would make sure to remember. He couldn’t bear not to. The list was a dozen names long now, and at the top was one that Dareley would read aloud to himself every time he wrote a new one. He refused to forget that one, if he lived to be as old as Anastarian Sunstrider was he would never let himself forget.

Next Story

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#warcraft #warcraft roleplay #fanfiction #adventures in azeroth

[chosenoftheelements]

@nevertemperyourpassion asked:

“ are they treating you well? ” she dared to sound hopeful.

the sound of her voice woke him---not from sleep, but---from his thoughts. from wondering about what the hell was going to happen now.

“ jaina, ”

he stood, blinking down at her through the bars---she was silhouetted beneath a narrow shaft of moonlight, only the top of her fair head was illuminated.

she’d caught him off guard by coming here once---let alone twice.

unless she was someone more important than he’d estimated, it couldn’t have been allowed.

she had visited durnholde with the prince, but---if the prince had sanctioned this, then she wouldn’t have come at night.

“ you---probably shouldn’t be here. ” he said it for her sake, mostly---but, for himself as well. he didn’t feel like getting beaten.

a slight furrow came to his brow. he’d never expected to meet anyone who looked remotely like taretha.

and yet, here this girl stood---similar enough to make him stop and stare.

he’d been---well, genuinely surprised the first time that he’d laid eyes upon her, and the resemblance continued to strike him---even now, in the midst of everything else.

in retrospect, of course---he realized that, physically speaking---there was likely nothing so unique about taretha amongst humans.

to him, though---she was unmistakably different---and she still was, but---that being said, it wasn’t only that they looked alike.

this girl---jaina, carried herself with a quiet strength, despite her fragile appearance, just as taretha did. and her eyes were kind---thoughtful.

she was the only human who’d ever looked at him and even come near to the level of understanding that he felt from taretha.

it wasn’t the same, of course. that would have been ridiculous---they were still little more than strangers, and he didn’t imagine that was likely to change.

she wasn’t at ease around him, like taretha always seemed---he could tell. she didn’t come within reach of the bars.

there was uncertainty on her face, but---it wasn’t critical of him.

right now, she was---smiling, at him. she was asking if he was all right.

and that alone was enough to confound him---to fill him with a sense of something that he couldn’t describe.

a deep ache that didn’t hurt---or didn’t hurt in a way that was unwelcome, at least.

he knew what pain was, and this---this wasn’t pain.

this was the relief of being seen, and not feared---or hated.

perhaps it was everything else that hurt, and he just hadn’t realized how much.

he regarded her, and softened a little.

“ they’re, uh---most kind. ”

he tried to sound serious---he wasn’t sure that he quite succeeded.

her question---no matter how well-intended, was laughable.

he’d been treated better at durnholde. he’d had a purpose at durnholde. the people who spat in his face hadn’t been strangers.

some of them hadn’t even spat at him.

he’d had a larger cell---that he’d thought of as his room---at durnholde. it’d been clean. he’d had a few of his own things.

he’d slept there every single night of his life that he could remember.

getting torn away from all of that, all at once---and being told nothing more about it than what he could catch from other people’s conversations---had been a waking nightmare.

now, at least---thanks to jaina’s first visit, he’d learned what’d happened---with lord blackmoore. or---what they were trying to make happen with him, anyway.

his understanding was that it wasn’t done yet.

he didn’t know what he thought about it, either.

he was glad for taretha---he was endlessly glad for taretha, and he hoped with his entire heart that this was her chance---her chance to get out.

even if that meant he never saw her again.

but---as for blackmoore---he didn’t know what to think. and it was the only thing he’d been thinking about for days.

there was a part of him that felt guilty---for his presence apparently being one of the things that blackmoore was coming under fire for.

there was a part of him that knew blackmoore deserved it.  

there was a part of him that hoped blackmoore would be released anyway, so that everything could go back to normal---so long as taretha remained free.

and, finally---there was a part of him that knew nothing in this world could’ve dragged him back to that place.

and that jarred him more than anything else.

#( we will not be broken // ic ) #nevertemperyourpassion

[azerothtravel]

Deep Cover, Escape From Durnholde, July 6, 2007.

#wow #world of warcraft #hillsbrad foothills #the burning crusade #gormorash #rugurrash

[dahlyah-grimshatter]

Wanted

“Just there. See them?”

Captain Alan Davis lowered his spyglass, before handing it over to his junior companion. The young Lieutenant Wil Demonte was next to peek through, catching sight of the small gathering just outside the ruins Durnholde Keep. No mistaking it-- Horde refugees, trekking off to Light only knew where. 

But they weren’t alone. 

The four of them sat, huddled together facing each other. A dog paced around them, as if to keep them rounded up like sheep. No ordinary dog, either. As the sun started setting behind the two Alliance soldiers, the canine’s fiery mane contrasted all the better against the cold and dim stone ruins behind him. Not far off stood the dog’s master; a hooded figure, with blazing red eyes. Too tall to be a gnome, too short to be human. A dwarf. Dark Iron, if Wil had to guess. He could see the rifle she carried slung over her shoulder, casually.

She waved.

“Aye, sir. Seems she sees us, too.” Wil reported, handing the spyglass back to his superior officer.

Alan sighed, closing up and securing the spyglass in one of his horse’s saddlebags. The flare had caught his attention, but he hoped it meant there would be some action or something. But looking now, it was apparent the exciting part was all done. He didn’t seem terribly eager to ride out at some Dark Iron Dwarf’s beck and call. Especially some vigilante. He wore the disdain on his face well enough for Wil to read.

“... What do you wanna do, sir?” he asked the Captain, tone implicit of his willingness to follow his lead.

“Let’s check it out, I guess.” Alan huffed, spurring his horse on. “Keep up.”

The two cantered off from Thoradin’s Wall towards the ruins of Durnholde. A short enough jaunt into the Hillsbrad region which, technically, fell under Stromgarde jurisdiction now. With the Fourth War over and done, and the Alliance firming up their hold in the region, it made sense for soldiers stationed in Arathi to help keep the peace up and around the entire northern region. At least, anything south of Quel’Thalas. That was a problem for another day. 

Wil was an experienced rider, learning early on in his youth how to keep himself from falling out of the saddle. His experience had only grown since. In part, that’s why he wanted to become a proper cavalier. And the war broke out just in time to make that goal a reality. He looked up to Alan Davis, who unofficially took on the role of young Wil’s mentor when they were stationed together. The five or so years of time in service Alan had over Wil had left him somewhat jaded and terse. But Wil didn’t mind. He happily rode beside Alan, grateful for the continued opportunity to learn how to be a better cavalier beneath his proverbial wing.

The two tugged the reins of their steeds, slowing and then halting them as they arrived. Alan dismounted first, grunting as his boots hit the dirt path. He eyed the Dark Iron, making little effort to hide his displeasure from her. Wil followed along, jogging a bit to catch up.

“Let me do the talking, yeah?” Alan instructed.

Wil nodded, apparently starting to comply right away. They approached, stopping just a few paces from the Dark Iron, who grinned up at the pair.

“Oi, lads. Glad y’ saw m’ flare.” she piped up, tone jovial. “Dahlyah Grimshatter. Bounty Hunter.”

The introduction came with no somatic additions; no handshake, no nod, nothing. Dahlyah simply eyed the two humans, looking fine and prim in their Alliance blue. Alan met Dahlyah’s standoffishness with his own, simply eyeing the dwarf with an almost judgmental expression. But that didn’t stop Wil from nodding to her, in a token etiquette. His mother raised him right, after all.

“Lieutenant Wil Demonte, Stromgarde’s Sixth. This is Captain Alan Davis of the same, Miss Grimshatter.” he rattled off, practiced and professionally - breaking Alan’s directive immediately.

“What’ve you got for us, Miss Freelancer?” Alan sighed, disregarding the offered name in favor of a more derogatory title, as he looked past her to the four Horde captives.

“Jus’ some folks wanderin’ ‘bout where they ought not, aye?” Dahlyah replied with a shrug.

It wasn’t anything Dahlyah wasn’t used to. Dark Iron Dwarves weren’t the most popular lot here on the surface. Gods, they weren’t even that popular under Blackrock. She’d endured her share of dirty looks and sneers from dwarves of other clans, humans, gnomes… even the elves, in all their diverse types, all unanimously seemed to turn up their noses to the Dark Iron. She shrugged it off, never letting it bother her. She had her own opinions of all the races; and her own wasn’t above her judgment, either. Thankfully, it hadn’t cost her too much business, with the Dark Irons formally joining the Alliance.

Her hunting companion ran up beside her, sniffing the two soldiers curiously. Like his mane, the dog’s eyes burned a bright red, making for a rather intimidating sight! Wil nearly took a step back as the canine approached him… but relaxed as the beast’s jaw relaxed to let out a friendly panting tongue. He sniffed Wil, curiously, before nuzzling up against his leg.

“--Oi, an’ this ‘ere’s Ridley.” Dahlyah added. “Seems ‘e likes yeh, lad.”

Wil smiled at that. He grew up with dogs, back home. None like this, though! He found himself fascinated by the animal’s fiery mane and burning red eyes. But aside from those unsettling features, a dog was a dog! He reached his hand out for Ridley to sniff at; smiling like a giddy child when the bloodhound licked it instead! His tongue was so warm, it was weird! He eyed the dog’s mane, wondering if it was safe to touch. He thought better than to try, though.

Alan wasn’t nearly as enamored by the beast. He stepped past Dahlyah, eyes affixed to the four Horde refugees. Forsaken, all of them. His lip curled, as if to snarl at the undead abominations. They read him well enough, huddling a bit closer as if in fear for their unlives. They remained quiet for the same reason. The Captain took it as a point of pride, that his presence alone seemed to terrify these vile creatures. He scanned over their faces once by one; two men, two women. One looked like she died young. 

“Please release us, sir.” one of the men spoke up, his voice hoarse. “We’re not soldiers. And we’ve no allegiances to the Banshee Queen. We just want to get to Quel’Thalas to--”

He was cut off quickly when Alan slammed his boot into his hunched back, knocking him forward into the others. 

“--I didn’t say you could speak, deader!” he shouted.

Dahlyah glanced over her shoulder at that, her grin diminishing as she pulled her rifle from her shoulder to instead hold it ready in her hands. She watched Alan and his interactions with the refugees carefully. Wil did the same, peeling his attention from Ridley long enough to watch his senior counterpart work. His expression was… attentive. It spoke well enough of his conflicted feelings. Alan straightened his tabard, as he turned back to the bounty huntress - giving one final warning glare to the once again silent dead.

“Alright, let’s wrap this up, yeah?” he cleared his throat. “How much were you promised a head, Gun-for-Hire?”

Her smirk returned, as she shook her head. Her finger slipped down the side of her rifle, resting gently at the trigger.

“... Oi, think yer mistaken, Cap’n Davis. I ain’t ‘ere t’ collect on these ‘ere deaders,” she explained, “I’m ‘ere fer you.”

Before Alan could even blink, he found himself staring down the dwarf’s rifle, his nose close enough to sniff the gunpowder. He took a step back, gasping-- reaching for his sword, then not, all in an instant. He was confident bullets flew faster than he could unsheath it, anyway. Wil was equally caught off guard, hand grasping the hilt of his blade in Alan’s stead.

“--Dunnae, lad.” Dahlyah barked at Wil, eyes and rifle still trained on Alan. “Ridley still likes yeh, aye? Best t’ keep it that way.”

Wil looked down-- sure enough, Ridley was right there in front of him, eyes piercing as he looked up at the human. His demeanor was much less friendly - nearly snarling at poor Wil now, with ears perked and mane glowing just a bit brighter. Wil couldn’t so much as scratch his nose before Ridley would set on him, close as he was. Slowly, he took his hand off his weapon, blood draining from his face.

“W-What’s the meaning of this!?” Alan demanded, scowling at the dwarf. “I’m an officer of the Alliance military, and I--”

“--Y’know damn well why I’m ‘ere, Alan Davis!” she cut him off, proving she could shout a lot louder.

Her eyes practically burned into the Captain’s, a noticeable heat brimming off the metallic bits of her armor. Even her breath was hotter, like a dragon spewing fire. Smoke billowed out from her nostrils-- or so it seemed, anyway. Her fury set quickly, a far cry from her relaxed and casual demeanor just moments prior. She turned, slipping the barrel of her rifle up her arm to keep it trained on her target, while freeing her hand to tug a folded slip of paper from beneath her pauldron.

“But ‘m guessin’ yer partner ‘ere dunnae. Seems too nice t’ git int’a th’ shite yer doin’.” she grumbled a bit, holding the paper out for Wil to relieve from her.

He did so slowly, mindful of the blazing bloodhound practically attached to his leg at this point. He stepped forward, looking for an opening to maybe help Alan out of this predicament-- but a sharp growl from Ridley urged him to reconsider. He retreated with the paper a few paces back from the dwarf, and slowly unfolded it.

“Wil, it’s a fake! It’s obviously a--”

“--Let ‘im read, hotshot.”

It made no difference; Wil was far too curious now what the paper was, even without Alan trying to talk him out of reading it before it was even unfolded. He straightened the page, and looked it over.

WANTED

For crimes during times of war, including; - Maltreatment of prisoners - Dereliction of duty - Conduct unbecoming an Officer - Treason

A bounty of one thousand five hundred gold has been placed on;

ALAN DAVIS CAPTAIN, STROMGARDE’S SIXTH CALVARY DIVISION

In the name of his Majesty, King Anduin Wrynn

The bottom was stamped with a seal familiar insignia of Stormwind Intelligence, and signed with a scribble that read well enough as ‘M. Shaw’. 

“... Alan, what does this mean?” Wil asked, still re-reading the words over and over again. “Maltreatment? Dereliction? Fucking T-Treason, Alan!? What is this!?”

Alan didn’t respond. He didn’t see the point, now. Denying it, downplaying it… Wil was smart. He’d see right through it.

“Yer buddy ‘ere likes beatin’ on prisoners. Killin’ ‘em, too. Dunnae care wot they are. Orcs, deaders, taurens.” Dahlyah elaborated, eyes still narrowly focused on her mark. “Ain’t all y’ pretty blue Alliance brass th’ hero-types, aye?”

Wil found himself speechless, simply looking at Alan, then back to the parchment. The words seemed to cut him, deeper and deeper each time he read them. He knew Alan had no love for the Horde, and had heard him say some pretty terrible things about them. But until now, he figured it was just talk.A bit of roughing them up, but not crippling them. Not killing them.

“... What’s the treason, then?” Wil finally asked, addressing Dahlyah-- as if he couldn’t handle even speaking to Alan at the moment.

“Prisoner exchange, in Arathi. Cap’n Davis ‘ere killed two elves wot were supposed t’ be handed back t’ th’ Horde. Gutted ‘em, left ‘em fer th’ raptors.” Dahlyah explained. “Thought ‘e covered up ‘is tracks well ‘nough. Cost two o’ yer own when th’ exchanged dinnae go down. But Alan ‘ere dinnae care, aye? Got ‘is vengeance. Ain’t that right, lad?”

“Is that… true?” Wil looked to Alan, eyes misting and brow furrowed.

Again, silence. But it said it all. Alan kept his gaze on Dahlyah, lip quivering on the verge of a snarl. His hand tensed, opening and closing in a steady, nervous rhythm. A tell. One not lost on the Dark Iron.

“--Easy, there, Cap’n. Ask yer buddy there if’n that poster mentions bringin’ yeh in alive anywhere.” she warned. “Poor lad’s read it ‘nough times now t’ know it by heart.”

“... Shut up. Shut UP!” Alan snapped! “You fucking sellsword! You think you know what it’s like to be a soldier? To fight an enemy, and watch them take everything you love away from you? You have no idea! All you care about, all you fight for, is gold! You’re a greedy goblin with a license and a rifle! Not a real soldier! Not a real hero!”

It was then that, all riled up, Alan made his last mistake. He was backed into a corner, antagonized by this uppity Dark Iron nuisance! He acted without thinking, making one last ditch effort to get out of this impossible situation! Wil barely got a breath out to try and stop him, before Alan Davis, Captain of Stromgarde’s Sixth Calvary Division, took hold of the hilt of his blade to draw it. Before Dahlyah Grimshatter, greedy goblin with a license and a rifle, pulled her trigger.

~*~

Back in Stormwind, two Royal Guards hefted the bagged corpse up onto a cart, before spurring on the horse to start hauling it off. Dahlyah watched just a moment longer, as the clerk - a gnome, coming up no higher than Dahlyah’s chin -  finished counting up the gold pieces. One by one, as he slipped them into a small burlap sack. The Dark Iron’s hand idly scratched Ridley’s mane, fingers running through it to send embers floating off in the air. She sighed.

“... And fifteen-hundred.” the clerk finished counting aloud, dropping the final coin into the bag with a clink. “Looks like he gave you some trouble, hm?”

“Nah, nae too much.” Dahlyah replied, taking the sack from the Gnome, with a nod. “Nae as much as ‘e gave yer lot, seems.”

She offered a forced smile, and a final nod to the clerk, before turning to depart. 

Payouts weren’t always this sad. But this one felt tainted. Cursed. Perhaps if Wil hadn’t have been there, things would’ve gone differently? No, Alan was plenty eager to fight with him present, just the same. Still, she couldn’t get him out of her mind; the way his voice wavered, that heavy betrayal hitting the poor kid hard. It made her feel like the bad guy after all, robbing poor Wil of someone he clearly trusted and looked up to. 

No, she wasn’t the bad guy, she told herself. Alan Davis had his job, and didn’t do it well enough. And she was just doing her job-- and clearly, did it better than he did his. This was just how it was, sometimes. He wasn’t wrong when he said she wasn’t a real hero. But she never said she was. Never set out to be. Work was work. Running bounties put “kibble in the bowl and bullets in the chamber” she always said. And today’s payout would make for plenty of both. 

And that was the point of it. That was the intent. No, she wasn’t a hero.

She was a hunter.

#character story #Dahlyah Grimshatter #Dark Iron #Bounty Hunter #Warcraft #Azeroth #Arathi #Durnholde #Forsaken #Wanted

[earthbinder]

really thinking very hard abt thrall and his relationships with orgrim and grom respectively, specifically the sadness of thrall loving them both dearly and vice versa even though ultimately they set him up for failure by giving the reigns to an entire faction to a 19 year old

#its not like it was intentional. #but they fell for the trap of thinking that someone as overly mature as thrall could handle a much more mature responsibility #and he did for a long time but not without a cost clearly #i think thrall was very close to them both. i think he latched on hard to a lot of the people that he met relatively recently after durnhold #so its. not really something hes come to terms to yet i think #like he knows he's been taken advantage of and given a lot of shit he shouldnt have had to deal with #but he thinks of grom and orgrim so highly that its hard to imagine that they could have wronged him in such a monumental way #also ahem daddy issues #BUT ANYWAY #somebody make a grom or an orgrim #come get your kid #its 3 am goodnight #🍃 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 ― ooc.

[earthbinder-a]

also bc I’m on durotan again I’m just thinking about like. a canon where durotan ( and ideally draka, but then we gotta take shadowlands into account ... hm ) survives the assassination attempt but still is separated from thrall in the process, so thrall’s canon proceeds as normal since thrall simply Would Not Be Thrall if he was raised by his parents or even just his father ... even the concept is killing me

#like I’m writing with myself here I know but HEAR ME OUT #bc durotan would obvs love thrall very much as does draka bc he is yknow. THEIR SON #even after durnholde when they don’t know. QUITE what to do with him bc he’s just so much more human than they were ever prepared for #and thrall knows that they’re trying but it’s still. Hard. #he appreciates that they welcome him back home but he always feels a little out of place yknow #GOD ESPECIALLY IF THEY HAD. OTHER KIDS?? FFFFFFFF #be prepared to hear abt this shit all the time in the coming weeks bc I will never stfu abt it FBSNCNSMD #🍃 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 ― ooc.

[templeofuldum-blog]

Durnholde Keep, Hillsbrad Foothills

#durnholde keep #hillsbrad foothills #eastern kingdoms #WoW #World of Warcraft #gif

[mousterian-writes]

Pumpkin, warm coat, and moon for the ask game?

🎃 pumpkin: do you have any favorite brainstorming techniques? how do you like to gather ideas for your wip?

To gather ideas I like to explore the game and read quest text. I especially like the pre cata alliance zones, Redridge, Westfall & Duskwood. In retail I fly around & location scout. Because I didn't play alliance until the end of Cata, I never knew until recently that there was a path that connected the hinterlands to Caer Darrow. I thought that was so cool that I ended up writing an outline for a story about an orc servant in Durnholde helping an elvish prisoner escape (she was rabble rousing). It sort of became part of the backdoor backstory for lady deathwhisper.

Also, I really like sitcoms & like thinking about these powerful characters having to deal with very mundane & low stakes encounters. "What if Harrison Jones tried to fight Kel'Thuzad when he's trying to leave the library" comes to mind.

That's a few ways I get ideas. For brainstorming in general I take the screenplay outline format out of "Save the Cat" & try to connect the story ideas together. General beats sort of fall into place through that process.

🌙 moon: do any of your OCs have dark backstories or secrets they’re trying to keep?

I think that's sort of a given when dealing with the Scourge. Although, Ghastly is really the only one with a dark backstory. I had the idea that Blighterghast is actually a red/black hybrid whose egg was taken out of Grim Batol during the second war. There's not a lot of literature on how dragons hatch & in many other properties the eggs only hatch under certain conditions-so I didn't think it was necessarily too far fetched for years to go by between when the egg was laid & Vectus purchasing it. So from being the product of 'dragon violence' & a mostly failed science experiment, I'd say his past is a little depressing.

🧥 warm coat: share a happy or fuzzy scene from your wip!

From ch7, it's a flashback so KT is not a lich. I made it extra cheesy:

Modera peeked her head in. The barn was well lit by a string of mage lights. Unlike the kitchen it was mostly clutter free, only consisting of four stalls and a hay loft. Two stalls were occupied. One by Kel’Thuzad’s horse, Blossom, and the other by his current research subject.

Modera entered. Now she regretted not getting her shoes as she stepped gingerly over the rough dirt and decomposed granite floor of the barn.

Kel’Thuzad did not turn, instead he was frowning at something in the stall in front of him. The other mage must have been up for some time, he looked well rested. He wore his gray hair long, maybe too long as it fell almost below his shoulders. His brows were knitted together, in deep thought.

She saddled up next to him and frowned as well. There in the stall chained to the wall and surrounded by a warding seal was a ghoul. The creature ignored them as it greedily chewed through a hard loaf of conjured bread.

It was impossible to think it had once been a living person. Its skin had completely rotted off its face, leaving a hole where its nose had been and exposing the bone and grey muscle beneath. Its teeth and hands had become mutated almost to the point that they’re only use was for ripping and tearing of flesh. The thing’s muscles had atrophied in death. It couldn’t stand up straight and it could only shuffle about on its knuckles like an ape.

“I thought you were getting rid of this thing,” Modera said as she watched it tear another piece of bread off with its mouth.

“His name is Robbie,” Kel’Thuzad corrected, “and I am. Soon. There’s a few more tests I want to run first.”

Modera sighed, “I thought we weren't working this week.”

“I’m not. Not really.”

“Why are you out here then?”

“I forgot to pick a lemon after I came in from the garden, then I thought I should feed Robbie while you were still in bed. That way I wouldn’t have to do it later,” Kel’Thuzad finally took his eyes off the ghoul. He raised an eyebrow at Modera’s robe and bare feet, “What are you doing out here?”

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” Modera said as she slid her arms around his waist.

Kel’Thuzad turned into her embrace and murmured an apology. He was a head taller than her, and bent to kiss Modera so she wouldn't have to stretch up onto her toes. She let him deepen the kiss and melted into his arms, forgetting for a moment what was watching them.

[lol ghoul reaction shoot]

A gurgle from the stable reminded them. Kel'Thuzad pulled away with a little chuckle, "Those were supposed to be a surprise."

"The strawberries?"

"I was going to bring you breakfast. Maybe I lost track of time," Kel'Thuzad said with a glance over at his ghoul, "let's get you back inside."

Kel’Thuzad swept her off her feet, carrying Modera like a bride. She blushed, “Kelly, don’t, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Nonsense, you’re light as a feather!” Kel’Thuzad said with a strained grin.

Modera didn’t really want to protest too much. Truthfully, she liked when he held her. Even after years of dating it made her heart skip a beat. She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at his face. He was more red than tan as they reached the barn door. “Let’s walk together, the grass is soft,” Mordera suggested.

#staff envy #my writing #ask game #thanks for the ask!

[wp100]

wow characters with an echo filter on their voice 👌

#yes this includes bolvar #i really am not... trying to hide the fact that i have a crush on him #ehhh it's not like any of my followers play wow lol #let alone care about this character #he had so much potential i feel.... #at least he's got a lot of voice lines i can listen to lloooolololo l #there's also the infinite dragonflight. their voices are so badass #makes the durnholde keep dungeon a bit more bearable to run... just to hear that last boss' voice.. that dragon #ramblings

[renaultmograine]

This fuckblizzardbearetc person is under almost every warcraft post written on this website with their lack of reading comprehension and condescending tone. At some point you don't even want to explain what they got wrong, you just stand there, baffled. Troll? Maybe. Stupid. Yes. Hotel? Trivago

yeah i've noticed. i'll admit i didn't make the most concise point for that, because it's like half legitimate point and half making fun of the concept of a war game being inclusive, but... god. i didn't even realize that they were responding to my point because it was so wildly off base.

perhaps i haven't be clear about my position on all of this, but i'm very anti-retroactive change. i don't think any of us were looking at two raids from 2007 sitting there believing that blizzard things having concubines is okay. quite frankly, the only thing i think the blizz devs are weird about is shitting because it's the only topic that comes up every goddamn expansion.

even more so, i don't like hypocrisy. an instance of garrosh swearing was removed from the game and they claim they "felt like it was out of touch with their beliefs now" while anduin says shit-shoveler in shadows rising or some dwarves swear in a legion shaman quest and other localizations still have garrosh swearing. blizzard says the removed some suggestive innuendos because they don't want to be "punching down" when they make jokes and that's not in their ethos anymore, meanwhile a gay man is still getting "punched down" by being sexually harassed in a book that came out last year.

like, there's a woman in lore that was an actual sex slave. this is old lore so i'm sure most don't know about this, but there was a woman named taretha that was more or less owned by blackmoore, the man that owned thrall. she died because she helped thrall escape, and escape from durnhold keep (shocker, another BC instance) is a direct reference to that story beat. are they going to retcon that now because they don't believe women should be sex slaves, which i don't think any of us were actually accusing blizzard on on the basis that they wrote it? wish i could say with confidence no, but now i've got no damn idea.

i hold a soft spot for old lore, i will admit. i like that blizzard was bold enough to include those sort of elements because, yes, this is warcraft, there's going to be darker themes. now all the books are all rather bland (other than the part where nathanos tried to burn a bunch of children alive? that was wild) and the game is all this same cookie cutter villain bullshit, but i don't blame them for moving away from that. i just wish they didn't blame their failings as writers on the fact that its the paintings that are making women feel excluded from wow.

#warcraft #ask #anonymous #oops this got long! #sorry ive been just a sarcastic pos on blizz i need to reclarify my positions