#durnholde keep

[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

[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!

[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

[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.

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#warcraft #warcraft roleplay #fanfiction #adventures in azeroth

[templeofuldum-blog]

Durnholde Keep, Hillsbrad Foothills

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

[hipnosworld-blog]

Beacon of Light Chapter 3 Page 2 by hipnosworld

#beacon of light #world of warcraft #warcraft #paladin #worgen #hillsbrath #durnholde keep #3d comic #comic #3d

[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

[worldofwarcraftart]

Durnholde Keep by Dennis Fröhlich Source: https://ift.tt/37f1tw7 New news website for furry fans: http://awoonews.com

#wow #world of warcraft #legion #azeroth #imaginaryazeroth #hunter #armory #forums #classes #movie #blizzard

[wowheadquarters]

don't be shy, drop ALL your Kel'Thuzad headcanons~

All of them? Hm. I don’t know if I remember all of them. Also, I stopped keeping track of WoW some time in the middle of the Battle for Azeroth, because it can either be WoW whcih I enjoy or shitwreck, and I chose WoW, which isn’t what Blizzard/Activision is currently serving- I meant to say that most likely my headcanons aren’t Shadowlands compatibile.

Anyway. Kel’thuzad headcanons of various importance as I remember them.

Kel’thuzad is his actual given name, it’s not a pseudonym or anything.

In Thalassian “kel’thuzad” mean “seeker of the truth”. (In Darnassian the same phrase is “keil tassad” and in Zandali “kel’ta sad”.)

Kel’thuzad speaks Common and Thalassian fluently. Before the Dark Portal opened he knew some phrases in Dwarven (conversational) and Gnomish (related to transport industry and mathematic). He can also speak Zandali with varying accents (mostly Amani), but he knows only five or six Zandali signs (he can sign his name, but that’s it).

After the Dark Portal opened, Kel’thuzad tried and failed to learn Orcish. He gained the skill later when it was a trial-and-error learning by communicating with Ner’zhul. Due to that Kel’thuzad’s accent when speaking Orcish is not “Human,” but distinctly Shadowmoon.

He also learned Nerubian from... well, the dead Nerubians. He can now both speak and write fluently even with encryption.

(There are 3 ways of Nerubian ecryptions and they can be simultaneously applied. This way there exist 7 versions of encryption plus 1 unencrypted text. These are known as the Eight Webs of writing. Plain text is written in the First Web, triple encryptin is the Eighth Web.)

He can read (but not speak) Nathrezim, and somewhat read and speak Shath’Yar, the language of the Old Gods. He would understand Quiraji if he ever encountered it, because it is very close to Nerubian (like Czech and Slovakian, I imagine).

The Language of Death, by the Scourge usually referred to as Deathspeak, is an artificial language created by Kel’thuzad. It is based on all languages he knew at the point of creating it, and is fairly easy to learn if you find a willing teacher. It was created for the members of the Cult of the Damned to understand ach other without them feeling like one language/race is put above the other, and to partially control their thoughts, as the language specifically hasn’t got some words or phrases (such as “rebellion”). Orwell would be proud.

He was brownhaired, but he greyed out fairly quickly when Ner’zhul settled in his head without paying any rent.

He was from Kul’Tiras. (I still want him to necromance a sunken ship. And a chalk cliff.)

His family name is Naxrierre. There is a theory that Naxrierres were a witch coven that became civilized with years, which is mostly spread by naysayers to explain the family’s talent towards magic. Another theory claims that they are a part-elven bastards which would besides the magic explain the name.

Kel’thuzad took the elf-Naxrierr theory to heart and in his ambition for one of his sons to make it somewhere else than the navy agve him a Quel’dorei name.

The suffix -ramas in Nerubian signifies not encessarily a necropolis but any place to permanently home dead bodies. “Naxxramas” is basically “Nax(rierre)’s tomb” but in Nerubian. 

As a mage in Dalaran Kel’thuzad studied arcanophysic, a way to describe and measure magic. This field is where all the calibration of spells or even negating spells comes from. He became the sole teacher of it in Dalaran, because he was the only one enthusiastic enough about it to bother.

He was that type of teacher who didn’t give homeworks, he hated correcting them. He also had his classes in the most unreasonable hours, such as 3 AM, because he had a busy schedule and non-existent sleep pattern.

Since Kel’thuzad’s banishment the knowledge of arcanophysics among the Dalaran mages has drasticaly declined and is nearly nonexistent nowadays. All books Kel’thuzad had written on it have been sealed away, which removed nearly all reliable sources from the public access.

Kel’thuzad actually had good relationships with his colleagues. He helped Alonda with her fild research on Trolls (hence his speaking Zandali).

His closest friend was Anthonidas. They used to be classmates once upon the time.

What really undermined Kel’thuzad’s trust and belief in Kirin Tor was what happened to Khadgar. He realized that Kirin Tor is not going to act if given a warning, and not going to help if hearing a plea.

He still tried to warn Kirin Tor before what he didn’t know was the Scourge. He had noticed the Amani “moving out of the way”. “Whatever will happen, and I believe that this time it will be the dead, because the demons haven’t tried that yet, it will happen in a single line from Lordareon to Quel’Danas. We know the Amani can see into the future, and they are clearing out of this path.” Dismissed as a doomsayer, he wasn’t really persistent in his warnins.

Ner’zhul’s talks to Kel’thuzad began as especially persistent migraines. Whenever Kel’thuzad tried to tell Anthonidas that his condition is serious, he was sent off with a mug of peacebloom tea and an advice not to stay up so late, and maybe lay off some stress.

The teacher who taught Thrall in his early years such stuff as writing, that was Kel’thuzad in disguise when he was rectuiting in and around Durnholde Keep.

No, Kel’thuzad has no idea the little pet-orc he was trying to groom and later kidnap for the Cult of the Damned (What a better liteunant than the one you raise yourself?) is Thrall, the Warchief of the Horde.

Kel’thuzad was tasked with finding and preparing the perfect new host for Ner’zhul. He was trying to overthrow the Lich King, so he picked Arthas as a paladin of Light whom he believed strong willed enough to handle it. And at the start of the story Arthas was.

His second choice for Lich King would have been Kael’thas.

He shuffled his cards in the deck of “Scourge politics” so that Bolvar Fordragon would take the Helm of Domination after Arthas. Players greta victory? Just according to keikaku.

He had (and still has) a “wanted poster” for Garrosh Hellscream. He really wanted him into the Scourge army. The reward was a whole necropolis with units.

Naxxramas had a dedicated “catkeeper” tasked with taking care of Mr. Bigglesworth and cleaning the acid/slime vats. Her name was Gwendoline, usually called Gwen, she is now one of Garrosh’s ghost children. Gwen died during the attack on Theramore where she was working as a spy for the Scourge.

Liches feed off people emotions and minds. The Lich Kign keeps it secret (even from Kel’thuzad) to keep them starved and obedient. The passive “nibbling” causes that people around liches start to be unfeeling.

Kel’thuzad has developed the Cure for the Plague quite early on. Ner’zhul made him test the plagues seeds on himself.

Speakig of that, Ner’zhul (and later Arthas as the Lich King) had a complete control over Kel’thuzad’s body, so if he refused to carry out an order, Ner’zhul could just make him do it anyway.

Additionally, the Lich King could kep him going despite injuries, exhaustion &c. Arthas fancied himself thinking that h killed Kel’thuzad, but the truth is that the cumulative injuries (several broken bones, stab wounds, a concussion, frostbites, poisonings), exhaustion and starvation were enough to kill Kel’thuzad twice over, no hammer needed. Ner’zhul just in that moment let Kel’thuzad die, because that was what he needed.

He used to play Hearthstone a lot when he was alive. He had a very good Hunter Murlock tribal deck.

He is asexual, and quite possibly aromantic too. In his words: “I believe in love on the first sight. And I am probably blind or something, as it seems.”

His favourite colour is purple.

Shortly before the capture of Bolvar Fordragon Kel’thuzad re-bound his phylactery from the whole urn to a single shard. The shard was sold by a cult of the Damned agent in Kul’Tiras to Taelia Fordragon as a lucky amulet.

Whenever as a lich Kel’thuzad regained his form, he always found himself knee-deep in water due to some fucking coincidences, starting with the Sunwell.

Speaking of Sunwell, he carries in himself  “a spark of Sunwell”. this has many benefits, such as power or not giving a fuck about Light being super-effective against the undead. It is a thing to be revealed out of the blue without prior warning when we need to reset the Sunwell (again).

He has enough knowledge of Troll and Orc shamanism to be considered a shaman, and too analytical and scientific mind to be actually good at it.

He also had made an oath to the Amani tribe that everything he’s learned from them would never be used to harm any Troll. It is why Kel’thuzad was not responsible for the havoc wrought in Zul’drak.

Naxxrams “responds” to Kel’thuzads emotions and feelings and even physical state. When he gets discorporated (killed), Naxxramas enters “save battery” mode. Naxxramas’ usual is “cold and static” and “cold and slightly shaking” which is Kelthuzad’s “bored” and “irritated” respectively.

He doesn’t like sweets, but he enjoyes crunchy stuff, be it cookies or fried potato slices. He craves the crunch.

He ate the flesh of several sapient beings. In several cases he knows it and the memory of ti makes him retch, even now when he is dead.

He likes dragons. He wants his own dreagonflight. (I have a headcanon abbout Sapphiron’s “Ivory” dragonflight of undead dragons.)

He has a saronite armour to match with the Bloodsurge. It decorates a ziggurat somewhere in Plaguelands. el’thuzad honestly doesn’t care. The armour has spikes on the inside, so if you put it on as a living being, you can’t take it off without bleeding out. A very emo move.

And I am tired now, so this will have to do for now. It’s not all of them, I am sure I haven’t thought of some area. But here we go.

#Kel'thuzad

[earthbinder-a]

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 :  𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐄.   ( companion )

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐋𝐃𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 :   thrall is a former slave, hedge mage and a dreamer, of a race closely related to the qunari - AKA still an orc. i worked this with inquisition in mind, just because that’s what i’m most familiar with, but i’m always down to mess around with it in regard to the timeline !! ( i would still really appreciate it if u read all this word vomit though )

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 ,  i’ve improvised some lore to make sense of thrall’s orcish heritage - shoutout to nyx for helping me brainstorm that !! it’s not really anything world breaking, but it’s important, so bear with me here.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐇.   prior to the implementation of the qun, long before the qunari ever made contact in thedas, the kossith practiced animism heavily and governed themselves independently as separate colonies, or clans. when the philosophy of the qun was introduced it wasn’t universally accepted by the kossith; many of them either broke away voluntarily or were exiled for this resist to change. those exiles gave themselves the name MAG’HAR - uncorrupted. they don’t actually refer to themselves as orcs, though they look the part. they lack horns, usually, though some rare individuals may have a small set  ( they commonly have some slight facial spines, and share the hard metallic skin of the qunari; warcraft folks, think orcs with like a little pinch of draenei minus hooves and tails )  and instead have tusks, along with other typical orcish facial features. their skin varies from green to gray to brown, depending upon the clan they are from and the area they live in.

the mag’har, perceiving the implementation of the qun as a betrayal, maintained their individual clans and retreated into hiding. while every clan is a little different culturally,  ( frostwolf, warsong, bleeding hollow, shadowmoon, shattered hand, etc )  they share the core beliefs that the kossith had originally used as well as varying degrees of isolationism from all other races and civilizations. they were intent to stay in their respective territories, but environmental changes forced some clans out of their homes - many of those clans ended up in thedas, 

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐔𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋.   his parents, durotan and draka of the frostwolf clan, are assassinated on their way to visit an old friend. whether their deaths were plotted or not is a mystery - their infant son GO’EL is never found among the dead. aedelas blackmoore had gotten to him first, and being that he had never seen a creature so strange as little go’el or the corpses of his parents around him, he decides he can make use of the child. blackmoore returns to his home in ferelden, durnholde keep, where he forces his secretary and his wife, tammis and clannia foxton, to nurse the strange child until he is old enough to fend for himself. they oblige, only because tammis’ job is under threat, and keep the boy in their home for the first seven years of his life. blackmoore names him THRALL - meaning slave.

despite suffering the abuse of both the foxtons and blackmoore, the foxtons’ daughter taretha nurtures thrall as an elder sister would. she is the only person thrall can trust, but at seven years old, blackmoore removes him from the foxton’s home and relocates him to an old shed in the back of the property. thrall is educated in war strategies, combat, and trained relentlessly in gladiatorial combat for the next 13 years or so while being isolated in the same dark room, only allowed to leave for training. taretha brings him the books blackmoore wants him to read about war and strategy, and she sneaks him letters this way. thrall writes her back in his own blood, as it is the only way he can. 

blackmoore pits thrall in underground fighting rings for money - thrall is often overworked, and is relentlessly abused when he loses ... or whenever blackmoore deems it fit to do so. taretha is eventually able help thrall escape from durnholde - he insists that she come with him, but she refuses only for the sake of her family. she tells him to leave ferelden, as blackmoore will surely be looking for him, and thrall promises to return for her. he leaves shortly thereafter, but it is the last he will see of taretha.  ( i feel like ... his personal quest would likely be the return to durnholde. sweats. )

thrall flees for the frostback mountains, but in his inability to navigate through the heavy snow and cold he passes out miles from the pass and would die there if not for his untimely saviors. the mag’har of the frostwolf clan, unknowingly thrall’s own people, rescue him and bring him back to their home. they realize by the swaddling cloth thrall carries, stitched with the frostwolf banner, that he is their lost boy. the clan rejoices and explains to thrall everything about his parentage, including his true name - thrall chooses to use the name he has always known rather than the one his parents intended as a means of remembering his escape. the clan does not challenge him on this.

as he adjusts to his newfound life, it become apparent very quickly that thrall has magical potential. his grandmother takes him under her wing to teach him how to master it - but thrall is much more gifted than either of them initially realize. in a matter of months, he is not only one of the most adept hedge mages the frostwolves have ever seen, but a dreamer as well. in regard to da:i, he leaves the frostbacks once more after having several vivid dreams telling him that something is amiss - he ventures out to aid the inquisition despite his rightful wariness of humans.

#i went Really Vague on the backstory bc its largely the same as his canon apart from the DA specific stuff lmaooo #BUT. COME PLOT WITH MEEEEE #this will likely change and get more specific as i play thru the games again but FOR NOW #🍃 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ― dragon age. #dragon age rp #da rp

[earthbinder]

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 :  𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐄.   ( companion )

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐋𝐃𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 :   thrall is a former slave, hedge mage and a dreamer, of a race closely related to the qunari - AKA still an orc. i worked this with inquisition in mind, just because that’s what i’m most familiar with, but i’m always down to mess around with it in regard to the timeline !! ( i would still really appreciate it if u read all this word vomit though )

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 ,  i’ve improvised some lore to make sense of thrall’s orcish heritage - shoutout to ksusha for helping me brainstorm that !! it’s not really anything world breaking, but it’s important, so bear with me here.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐇.   prior to the implementation of the qun, long before the qunari ever made contact in thedas, the kossith practiced animism heavily and governed themselves independently as separate colonies, or clans. when the philosophy of the qun was introduced it wasn’t universally accepted by the kossith; many of them either broke away voluntarily or were exiled for this resist to change. those exiles gave themselves the name MAG’HAR - uncorrupted. they don’t actually refer to themselves as orcs, though they look the part. they lack horns, usually, though some rare individuals may have a small set  ( they commonly have some slight facial spines, and share the hard metallic skin of the qunari; warcraft folks, think orcs with like a little pinch of draenei minus hooves and tails )  and instead have tusks, along with other typical orcish facial features. their skin varies from green to gray to brown, depending upon the clan they are from and the area they live in.

the mag’har, perceiving the implementation of the qun as a betrayal, maintained their individual clans and retreated into hiding. while every clan is a little different culturally,  ( frostwolf, warsong, bleeding hollow, shadowmoon, shattered hand, etc )  they share the core beliefs that the kossith had originally used as well as varying degrees of isolationism from all other races and civilizations. they were intent to stay in their respective territories, but environmental changes forced some clans out of their homes - many of those clans ended up in thedas,

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐔𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋.   his parents, durotan and draka of the frostwolf clan, are assassinated on their way to visit an old friend. whether their deaths were plotted or not is a mystery - their infant son GO’EL is never found among the dead. aedelas blackmoore had gotten to him first, and being that he had never seen a creature so strange as little go’el or the corpses of his parents around him, he decides he can make use of the child. blackmoore returns to his home in ferelden, durnholde keep, where he forces his secretary and his wife, tammis and clannia foxton, to nurse the strange child until he is old enough to fend for himself. they oblige, only because tammis’ job is under threat, and keep the boy in their home for the first seven years of his life. blackmoore names him THRALL - meaning slave.

despite suffering the abuse of both the foxtons and blackmoore, the foxtons’ daughter taretha nurtures thrall as an elder sister would. she is the only person thrall can trust, but at seven years old, blackmoore removes him from the foxton’s home and relocates him to an old shed in the back of the property. thrall is educated in war strategies, combat, and trained relentlessly in gladiatorial combat for the next 13 years or so while being isolated in the same dark room, only allowed to leave for training. taretha brings him the books blackmoore wants him to read about war and strategy, and she sneaks him letters this way. thrall writes her back in his own blood, as it is the only way he can.

blackmoore pits thrall in underground fighting rings for money - thrall is often overworked, and is relentlessly abused when he loses ... or whenever blackmoore deems it fit to do so. taretha is eventually able help thrall escape from durnholde - he insists that she come with him, but she refuses only for the sake of her family. she tells him to leave ferelden, as blackmoore will surely be looking for him, and thrall promises to return for her. he leaves shortly thereafter, but it is the last he will see of taretha.  ( i feel like ... his personal quest would likely be the return to durnholde. sweats. )

thrall flees for the frostback mountains, but in his inability to navigate through the heavy snow and cold he passes out miles from the pass and would die there if not for his untimely saviors. the mag’har of the frostwolf clan, unknowingly thrall’s own people, rescue him and bring him back to their home. they realize by the swaddling cloth thrall carries, stitched with the frostwolf banner, that he is their lost boy. the clan rejoices and explains to thrall everything about his parentage, including his true name - thrall chooses to use the name he has always known rather than the one his parents intended as a means of remembering his escape. the clan does not challenge him on this.

as he adjusts to his newfound life, it become apparent very quickly that thrall has magical potential. his grandmother takes him under her wing to teach him how to master it - but thrall is much more gifted than either of them initially realize. in a matter of months, he is not only one of the most adept hedge mages the frostwolves have ever seen, but a dreamer as well. in regard to da:i, he leaves the frostbacks once more after having several vivid dreams telling him that something is amiss - he ventures out to aid the inquisition despite his rightful wariness of humans.

#reposting this to the new blog for reference :> #gonna work on my league one here in a bit #and then dark shaman if im feeling extra productive #🍃 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ― dragon age.

[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

[breadknight-likes-things]

Bread’s Game Journal 07/01/20: Through The Dark Portal, An Outland Retrospective, Bonus 2: Old Hillsbrad

Escape From Durnhold Keep, a part of the now underused Caverns of Time, is my very favorite instance in World of Warcraft.  It’s my favorite because I get to live out such a pivotal lore moment (Thralls escape from slavery), and there’s such an absurd amount of fun little details around the sides that it creates it’s own unique little pocket world at the same time!  Hillsbrad Foothills got a big boost as one of my all time favorite zones in WoW from the very first time the Warcraft 2 narrator over pronounced it’s name, and it’s stuck with me for a long time since then!

The version presented during the Caverns of Time is vastly different from the version we now see post Cataclysm World of Warcraft.  It was less of a shock back in the Vanilla WoW days, when Southshore was still the northernmost functioning town for the Alliance and not, you know, a bubbling toxic wreck.  Here we have a totally normal Soutshore, filled with easter eggs and silly character cameos (One of my favorites being the future Champion Herod being the local childhood bully to the other future members of the Scarlet Crusade).  Tarren Mill, far from the wreck it is and always will be under the control of the Forsaken, is a sleepy little farm hamlet where nobody would even consider looking for something as absurd an escaped orc gladiator.  Just about the only place that doesn’t gain an increase in charm by being still intact is the main feature of the instance, where most of the story takes place: Durnholde Keep.

Just feels unnatural seeing this place as anything other than an eternally smoldering ruin.

From the old days of questing through Hillsbrad, the only memory most people have of Durnholde is a castle razed almost entirely to the ground.  Seeing it built up in it’s full glory is a reminder of just why it was destroyed in the first place.  The Orc internment camp is as abusive and violent as the books always described it, and Thrall is treated like trash by Adeles Blackmoore so often that he’s now planned this break out attempt.  It’s immensely satisfying to be able to take part in this huge lore moment, though I do wish they could have made another instance where you came back with the force of orcs and razed it to the ground! Fun fact about Old Hillsbrad from someone who used to mess around with far-sight macros a lot, there’s a lot more in this zone then the game wants you to believe.  If you stray too far from the established play area (or Southshore, which is just a bonus Easter Egg to find) the screen is quickly filled up with blue fog and you can’t go any further due to invisible walls.  That doesn’t mean all the stuff you’d expect to find isn’t there though!  Hillsbrad fields is there in all it’s old timey human settlement glory, you can get so far as where Dalaran is supposed to be, but you’ll just find a bit patch of flat land!  The beginnings of the Alterac Mountains zone is also present, but much like that zone itself at the time, doesn’t really have anything to find.

Tarren Mill, meanwhile, is apparently celebrating the midsummer fire festival even this far back into the past!  Shame there’s no fire keeper here, just as one last little hidden entry on that achievement list!

Old Hillsbrad had a lot more work put into it than it really required to work.  This would end up being something of a common theme for most of the Caverns of Time instances, and is likely why they don’t make them anymore!  All Blizzard really needed to make was Durnholde Keep itself to make this instance work, but they went above and beyond in not only near fully recreating a zone inside the instance itself, but a snapshot of a zone as it existed long before Warcraft was ever “World of Warcraft” just to give lore nerds a lot of fun stuff to discover!

Random Screenshot Of The Day:

Eh, he’ll never amount to anything.

Stray Notes:

Easter Eggs I didn’t cover but do deserve some mention: 

- Hercule is talking with Kel’Thuzad about finding “true power” away from the Kirin Tor, which, uh oh.  

- A meeting of paladins is using the inn to discuss troubling news out of Northrend as the few human settlements present there are reporting invasions of more and more undead, which the kingdom is woefully un-prepared to deal with at the moment.

- I don’t know who Don Carlos is, but if you find and defeat him, you can get his famous hat!  Which makes a ghost wolf follow you around!

- All the citizens of Southshore that aren’t named characters use the human models from the beta version of World of Warcraft, which is one of my favorite little references to that very specific part of the games past!

#video games #World of Warcraft #world of warcraft shadowlands #WoW #wow bc #world of warcraft battle for azeroth #world of warcraft burning crusade #wow screenshot #world of warcraft screenshots #the caverns of time #caverns of time #wrath of the lich king #world of warcraft art #outland retrospective #bread's game journal #breads game journal #the dark portal #game journaling #game journalism #video game journalism

[trixcuomo]

4. Slay Dalaran City Clinic

((Part four of the craziest Kael’thas fangirl story I intend to write! Get ready for the ultimate Trixany-Gaga parody... 10 min read, 18+ for sexual themes.))

When I look back on my life in Outland, it’s not that I don’t want to see things with Kael’thas exactly as they happened. It’s just that I prefer to see them in a happier way. And you know, the way that the new me, the carefree Kaja-Cola Girl I had to become might experience these things is more honest because my better self invented it.

Clinical psylosophy, if you ask that Forsaken guy near Durnholde Keep, tells us that trauma is the ultimate killer. My people faced extinction. We lost our king, our way of life was nearly obliterated. And in a mad attempt to recover it all on his own, we ultimately lost our beloved Prince Kael’thas.

And then the Void Elves… To me, it still feels we might lose ourselves forever.

It’s like my life in Quel’thalas, today, is this broken mirror. And as the owner of that mirror, I’ve tried to fit the pieces back together. Make it perfect, clear again. But I can still see the crack in that mother fucker’s reflection.

It’s not that, ‘Trixany, by becoming a Kaja-Cola Girl, and a parody singer—which sounds so spectacularly weird in a way—and then getting high in Pandaria with a succubus to re-live moments with Kael’thas, when you’re supposed to be a righteous Blood Knight and follower of the Light… you’ve been so dishonest.’

No. It’s just that Blood Knight Trixany Cuomo loathes her reality.

For example, the Dalaran nurses here at the clinic? To me, they all have these super short, fashionable skirts on, with their tops open to the navel. And every one of them looks like Kael’thas Sunstrider.

And Kael’s shoes?

I’ve always wanted him to show off those legs, so he’s in white platform stilettoes.

I know what kind of world this is, I don’t care. I’m not talkin’ bout the weapon.

I tipped all the Kael’thas nurses’ hats to the side, because I need this to feel like another delicious, dirty dream. Like the one in back Pandaria…

And also because that’s more romantic, better than being admitted to the Dalaran City Clinic by a Night Elf stranger who found me hallucinating alone in the woods.

I also think people making cute meme fanart of Kael’thas will be very big in the next expansion.

Check out that Kael’thas nurse on the right, the one opening the door for my stretcher to go through. He’s got a great ass.

…Bam.

The truth is, back in the Ghostlands, when I mistook that Night Elf Dannox for Kael’thas because Dannox was standing in a sunbeam, and then he groped me? I came out of it, at least I think that I did, then I mauled Dannox like a she-bear. Bit right into his arm with my teeth, like the civilized, highly-trained fighter for the Light that I am.

Oh, there Dannox is now. He’s following the team of Kael nurses as they wheel me into the intensive care ward. Poor baby, whatever I did to his arm, he’s got it in a sling now.

And that Kel’thas nurse on the left? I asked him to order me some fel crystals mixed into a tall, icy glass of Kaja-Cola a couple of hours ago.

They only gave me the Kaja-Cola.

I wish that, back at Tempest Keep, they’d only given Kael’thas the Kaja-Cola.

Oh, here’s the head nurse. Looks like I know him pretty well already.

“Hi again, Kael’thas. You look lovely in that. The gold phoenix stethoscope was a nice touch.”

“I know. I’m a little scared, but then again I do look damned good, don’t I?” I watched him look down over the hot little outfit, “I’m such a clotheshorse too, Trix. I can’t believe slutty women’s fashion is a new thing for me.”

“Mhrm. You should let me dress you in my hallucinations more often.”

“Well, in any case,” He very deliberately and professionally removed my hand from his leg, “Good morning, Bloodthistle princess. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty horny.” Well, that was far more deadpan and threatening than I intended.

“Uh-huh. And anything other than the obvious?” Nurse-daddy Kael’thas did let me reach up and play at twining his long blonde hair in my weakling fingers. He smiled pleasantly at my devoted effort to flirt, even now. Then he went on checking the equipment, magical meters and tubing by my bed. I enjoyed watching him bend over to do all this for me, “Everything went really well, Trixany. You survived the Ghostlands with that Night Elf. Then, you survived Tempest Keep with me.”

“Isn’t that… somehow out of order?”

“Look at you. I remember back when they first assigned you to be my body guard at Tempest Keep. And you saluted me.”

I suddenly felt like screaming at him. Small miracle that I didn’t. I felt like I was out of my body already, with rage, with pain. I was losing control of even sweet this…

“And do you remember what you said to me back then? Trixany?”

“My life for my prince… Except my prince was supposed to be a great man. Back then, I thought my zealotry was warranted.”

“I did what I had to do. You were a Sunfury, you knew that.”

“Kael’thas, you lied to all of us.” Then, in a spark of anger, I don’t know how, I finally found the strength to lunge at him. But two more duplicates of Nurse Kael’thas held me, slammed me down. He then gestured, and a fourth blonde princely nurse strutted up with a syringe. All sharing his wicked, wonderful crooked grin. I kicked out, kicked over a silver tray by my cot. Dannox staggered back, cradling his arm. Twisted silver implements I’d never seen in Silvermoon, nor in all my life fell to the floor, scattered.

But Nurse Kael’thas came in and injected something clear blue into my arm. I slowed. I eased off.

I heard Kael’thas speak with Dannox, while the fifth clone of this crazed, resurrected Bloodmage had a clipboard, taking notes. A dull magical hum swelled in the room.

“Her heart rate is a little low. But that’s Miss Cuomo coming off the Bloodthistle…” Dannox nodded as if this was totally usual, for Kael’thas in heels, a slinky miniskirt, buff chest exposed and accented by a hanging gold stethoscope to be providing medical advice. “She’s just dehydrated now. A few more hours of rest here in the clinic should help.”

Dannox seemed sincerely worried. I assumed he’d dragged me way out to Dalaran out of guilt, or for fear of a bunch of angry Farstriders hunting him down. At least then, he could say he tried and he’d be in neutral territory. “Thank you, nurse. And thank Elune that Trixany didn’t—”

I spoke over them both, “I’m… I’m going to make it?”

Kael’thas smiled handsomely, and he had a dimple just there on his cheek, “Plenty of fluids. And no more Bloodthistle.”

Dannox asked Kael’thas more questions. A part of my brain waited for Dannox to reach around and grope Kael’thas too, while the Blood Elf prince was distracted. I mean, that’s what Dannox did to me, it’s what started this damn mess. But Dannox was trying to negotiate getting me out of there sooner, something about me being a big name, and discretion.

I couldn’t stand it. A part of me had dwindled away, I think. My voice raised like a little kid, who doesn’t know how loud they’re being, because they’re so panicked, because what’s in their imagination is far more important than what the big adults think. “I’m going to be a star, Kael’thas. Do you know why?”

He gave me a tender, patient look. As if he’d never slaughtered thousands and turned to the Burning Legion, or had ever ordered me to collude with him and other Sunfury soldiers to do the same.

“…Because after what they did to our people, Kael’thas. I have nothing left.”

“Aww, Punkin. That’s so nice.” Hair flip there, that put him back to being as callous as I remembered, “Do you need anything else?”

My breathing slowed against my will. Whatever they gave me was kicking in, surely. “I… I want my real life back? I want you back, Kael’thas.”

As always, in nearly everything, which was tragic—Kael’thas proved astute. “Is that why you sing?”

No. I think it was Dannox who asked, this time. Suddenly, it was just the big Night Elf standing by my cot. The nurses had departed to assist other patients in the large ward.

I confided, voice gravelly, “Either that or I’d be crying all the time.” My head lolled to the side, so that I could only see the wall, not him, not anyone else in the gray, gray clinic, “But I see tears as so last season.”

Dannox sat down in the metal chair beside my bed. He was heavy and strong. The metal screeched on the floor when his athletic body budged it. I peeked back his way. Dannox spread his feet on the floor and leaned elbows on his knees. I watched Dannox feel his hurt arm in the sling. Then he weaved his fingers together and squeezed his hands anxiously. He was wiped out. Me and my antics had done all this to him.

I have some goofy instincts, I guess. I presumed getting him to crack a smile might make up for all he endured on my behalf. “Everyone in here looks like Kael’thas in a miniskirt, Dannox.”

His abrupt laugh stirred a few people in the beds around us. “Well, that’s alright. Coming to the Dal City Clinic is always pretty fun for me too, in an um... similar way.”

I think we were both checking out the nurses before I drifted back to sleep.

-fin-

((Please. I please have a request for the Kael’thas stans and the art community on Tumblr here please. Please! Someone draw me a sexy Kael’thas in a female nurse’s outfit. I wanted one for this post but could not find please.

And when you do, please tag it with #slay trixany so we can all bask in its glory. Thx!))

#kael'thas sunstrider #lady gaga #warcraft #slay trixany

[hipnosworld-blog]

Beacon of Light Chapter 3 Page 1 by hipnosworld

#3d comic #world of warcraft #paladin #durnholde keep #human #warcraft #comic #3d