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  #26  
Old 03-25-2011, 07:45 PM
DarkAngel DarkAngel is offline

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Review: Reanimated

Dark humor is good. As they say, "If you stop laughing, you'll start crying." I wasn't aware the Ebon Blade hired outside contractors, especially for things they could do themselves. But hey, this is a comedy: it doesn't have to make sense, right?
Quote:
He raised a Geist with a flourish, one of his personal abominations watching mutely as he danced alongside it as it crept out the door, shuffling sideways as many Orcs were known to do.
This sentence crosses the line from 'complex' to 'run-on.' One of these details needs to be moved somewhere else.
Quote:
Part of the head had been blown away from the left side, leaving a gaping hole with a shriveled and blackened mass inside: all that was left of the brain.
Might I suggest this correction? Not all pauses are commas.

Most of the time, Undead are said to have no heartbeat.

Quote:
He carved into the Dwarf's skull, taking a bit of flesh from it to repair the damage to the other corpse. He frowned a little, realizing that he still had no idea what kind of corpse he was working on.
This transition is unclear. The burned body has Elf ears, or the Dwarf?

Quote:
and possibly humanoid into the floor
Usually it's 'onto.'

Quote:
He nodded, satisfied with the results, and continues to clean and prepare the corpse for reanimation. He guides the magic through it until he is completely satisfied with it's condition. He then begins to set up for the reanimation ritual, preparing to return the corpse to 'life'.
Watch the verb tenses! This is a story, not a synopsis.

Quote:
Then, something he wasn't expecting happened: as the corpse returned to life, and it's eyes opened, instead of flashing yellow or silvery-white as most elven eyes of this type were prone to do, they ignited a flaming icy-blue.
Suggested rewording.

Overall, I like it. The pacing was right. It flowed like water except for a few places. It made me laugh. Really, what more could I ask for?
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  #27  
Old 05-05-2011, 12:49 PM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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((Not sure what inspired me to write this, but here you go. Also, probably some blood and gore and whatnot in here somewhere.))

A bloodcurdling scream rent the air just outside the Orc encampment in Ashenvale. Something had died, and by the sound of it, painfully. The Orc commander pointed at two of his Grunts with his fingers, motioning for them to head outside the firelight to investigate.

It was just past midnight, the stars twinkling brightly overhead. The Orc encampment was a new one, only just recently set up to start hauling lumber from a new part of the forest. The commander waddled off to start waking troops, wary of an attack.

The two Grunts hefted their axes, stepping into the inky night. They stayed shoulder to shoulder, crouching low and creeping through the woods to investigate. They headed in the direction they guessed the scream had come from, whispering quietly to each other in Orcish.

"That sounded like an Orc.", said the first one. Gronk was the elder of the two, and arguably the wiser.

"It sounded like a dead Orc.", said the second, T'unk.

The first nodded, before his foot squelched in something wet. He stopped, then looked down. Something was glistening in the moonlight, and he reached down to feel it with his fingers. It was definitely wet. He brought his fingers to his nose, sniffing them. He looked to T'unk knowingly. "Orc blood."

T'unk nodded, shifting his grip on his axe. He started to walk forward when a branch snapped behind the pair. Both whirled around, axes raised to confront the threat. Gronk began to charge when another Orc stepped from behind a tree. It was Arklek, another younger Orc.

Gronk frowned at him, motioning for him to join the two of them. He leaned in close, whispering. "You almost got yourself killed."

Arklek nodded, looking excited and ready for battle. "Apologies. But Commander Grankon ordered me to assist you."

Gronk nodded, stepping ahead of the two to lead them. He started off to the left at a guess, heading toward some bushes. They were moving gently in the dim light of night, branches swaying as if in a breeze. Even though the night air was still and silent.

Gronk motioned for T'unk to investigate once they got close enough, and T'unk stepped toward the bush. As he reached it, Gronk heard the slightest whisper of... something above him.

Gronk looked up, to see the last thing he would ever see.


Arklek heard Gronk gasp, then turned to see his world slow. An elf, clad in the normal minimal armor of a Sentinel, had lept from a tree. She landed in front of Gronk with such force that the ground between Arklek and Gronk actually registered the impact, some leaves being thrown into the air.

She landed with ...is that a club!? Arklek thought. It looked like a giant broken piece of tree, raised above her head. When she landed, she turned her momentum into force, bringing the branch down upon the older Orc's head.

Gronk's forehead practically exploded when the wood connected, and the branch lodged in his head. It's force was so great that as the wood continued to move, it simply drug the now-dead Orc along with it, slamming him facefirst into the ground.

Arklek started to move, drawing his axe, as T'unk finished turning around from investigating the bush. What had seemed like a full two minutes to Arklek as he watched was really only a fraction of a second.

T'unk began to bellow a warcry and move toward the elf before she wrenched the treebranch or whatever it was from Gronk's ruined face and flung it sidearm at the charging Orc. T'unk took the huge chunk of wood full to the chest, the impact illiciting an audible crack as his ribs shattered under his thin armor and the branch knocked him back into the bush he had just been investigating.

Arklek, now the only able-bodied Orc left, did the only sensible thing he could think of: He charged. The elf met him head on, her speed incredibly surprising to the young Orc. She almost seemed to be toying with him, seeming to remain in place only long enough for him to be absolutely certain that his axe swing was going to gut her, or behead her, or take a limb, before she darted away so fast she seemed to be a blur.

As Arklek spun to yet again attempt to disembowel the elf, he felt something solid catch the wood of his axe-shaft, stopping it dead in the air. He looked for the offending object, finding the obstacle to be the elf's hand. His eyes began to go wide. She caught the handle -midswing-.

Then he felt a sickening pain in his gut, and looked down. The elf's hand, the pommel of a weapon of some kind obvious in her palm, was rammed up against his stomach, dark fluid beginning to run over her hand. He winced, his expression confused, as he looked up to the elf. She easily stood half a foot or more over the green-skinned orc, his axe still caught in one hand while her other held her dagger inside of him.

As he watched her, she smiled. Then he felt the dagger twist and rip sideways inside of him, and his world went as black as the night.

((Part 1, as I have things to do. Will be finished when I get a chance.))
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  #28  
Old 05-10-2011, 07:10 AM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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Slywyn now stood alone in the silent clearing, towering above the rapidly-cooling body of the Orc she'd just killed. Her dagger was clenched tightly in her fist, the skin of her knuckles slowly turning white as her grip only increased. Her entire body shook with anger she couldn't control.

She screamed, suddenly exploding into movement as she kneeled over the corpse at her feet, going into a stabbing frenzy. Blood flew and coated her as she continued her frantic movements, seemly trying to work out her frustrations on the dead body before her. Then, just as suddenly as she started, she stopped.

Slywyn turned her head to the side, peering at the broken bush that one of the Orcs had been flung through. Then the sound came again. A low moan of pain and semi-consciousness emanated from the bush. She went to a knee, watching it for a moment as she seemed to decide what to do. Seeming to make up her mind, she crept toward the bush on all fours, keeping low.

She pushed aside the branches of the bush with her dagger once she reached it, peering inside. It seemed like the Orc's body had broken a hole through the foliage to come to rest on the other side, so she crept around the bush to the back, looking for the Orc who remained alive.

She came upon him on the back side of the bush, the piece of wood she had thrown at him resting in a hollow inside his chest that it had created. He was laying at a strange angle, his body not seeming to be in one piece any longer. His chest was the only part of him still moving, rising and falling where it could with tiny, shallow breaths.

Slywyn slowly moved to be beside his head, speaking in broken Orcish. "Camp. Where? How many?"

The Orc opened his eyes and laughed, small amounts of blood leaking from his mouth belying the great internal injuries he was suffering. "I'll tell you nothing, elf. You'll just have to find it yourself."

Slywyn frowned, the anger seeming to boil over again, and she raised her dagger into the air above his chest. The Orc's eyes watched the daggertip closely, waiting for the moment where it would plunge down and end his suffering. But it never came.

She was watching his eyes as they followed the tip, and she realized she had some small amount of leverage over him. She shut her eyes for a moment, mastering her anger, before letting the tip of the dagger rest against his throat. "Tell me and you die." She pressed the point against his neck for emphasis. "Refuse and live." She drew it back.

She knew now that the only thing the Orc could hope for now was death, and that by threatening to withhold it she may be able to get him to talk.

He opened his eyes again, his pain evident within them. His voice was quieter, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. "Fine. Fine." Slywyn crouched lower, raising the tip a little farther from the green skin over his throat.

"Tell me." She pressed the tip against the hollow in his throat, waiting.

He coughed once, blood splattering against the metal. "There are only a few of us. Just south of here, ten minute walk, maybe. It's a small camp. A fighter like you shouldn't have any trouble."

Sly nodded and grinned, the rage flaring up in her eyes. "Good."

She slammed the dagger home, the thin metal piercing his throat and spinal cord, killing him almost instantly. He shuddered once and lay still. As she pulled the dagger free, she noticed the expression on his face had changed. He almost looked to be smirking at her, as if he had gained something in his death.

"Stupid Orcs." Slywyn shook her head, wiping the dagger clean on his rough shirt. She turned to the south and took off at a sprint, heading directly for the small camp he had described.
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  #29  
Old 05-12-2011, 11:52 AM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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Less than a minute after Slywyn had sprinted away, several more Orcs crashed into the small clearing.

"It came from over here! There's bodies here!" one of them yelled, waving over several others.

One that looked to be in charge ran toward the clearing, slowing to a walk as he stepped inside. He took one look at the Orc laying on his back with the dagger wound in it's throat around the back side of the bush and winced. "That one's almost decapitated."

Another gently kicked the body of the first Orc to have been killed over, gesturing at it's face, or lack of. "Look at this one."

The Orc's eyes went wide, looking at it. He whistled through his teeth. "You think it's the same one that hit the other camps?"

The Orc standing next to the body without a face nodded. "We haven't seen any other elf inflict this kind of damage. His face is caved in."

The commanding Orc nodded. "Then it must be her." He whistled, making a hand gesture in the air over his head to call for the trackers. "Find her! Spirit of the woods, or flesh and blood elf, I want her found!"

It wasn't long before they found her tracks heading south, and quickly began to follow. As they followed the tracks, one of the tracker Orcs looked back at the commander. "She's heading right for one of the lumber camps. She can't be thinking of attacking it alone, can she?"

The commander shook his head, stepping over some deadfall. "She's attacked camps and outposts but never anything that big. She may not know what she's facing."

The tracker looked incredulous. "But her path is straight toward it. It's like she knows exactly where she's headed."

---------

Slywyn had almost reached the small camp the Orc told her about. She could see the glow of the fire between the trees, which only served to fuel her anger. She sped up and then lept out of the tree line, her dagger clutched tightly to her side.

Almost immediately she knew she had been tricked, as this was no small camp. Part of what she could see as she sailed through the air toward the fire was dominated by a large lumber-processing building in the back of the camp. And there had to be a large force of Orcs here. She'd never fought anything this large alone.

As she landed next to the fire among a large amount of Orcs that had been eating, several had already thrown their food aside and were reaching for weapons.

Disregarding the odds, Sly lashed out with her dagger at the nearest Orc with a scream of fury, the blade slicing through his eye.

More Orcs closed in. The fight was on.
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  #30  
Old 05-15-2011, 10:01 AM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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The Orcish commander back at the small camp, to the east of where the three Orcs had been killed, was staring at a table. Another Orc in robes and a shrouded hood was sitting across from him, fingers clasped together in a thoughtful manner.

The commander spoke first. "The three have not returned. Neither have the trackers."

The one in robes only nodded. "I think it's her," the commander continued. "Spirit of vengeance. Elf. Whatever it is. She needs to be stopped. We cannot continue to focus resources on a single target. They want reports of progress, not that we're continuing to lose Grunts to the forests."

The Orc in robes nodded. "I agree. I am going to make my way to the larger lumber camp in the south."

The commander looked momentarily confused. "Why?"

The Orc looked up and smiled. "I just have a feeling that I will be needed there shortly."

---------

Slywyn knew almost as soon as battle was met that this could not end well for her. There were simply too many Orcs. She'd managed to grab an axe from the hands of one of the Orcs, as her dagger was too short to use in combat like this. Even so, the weight of it was foreign to her and she was slower than she would have liked. She'd taken several small hits already because of it, and it was only a matter of time before something more threatening slipped through.

They'd backed her toward the main lumber building, away from the forests where she could escape. She'd taken down perhaps twenty Orcs so far, but had paid for each kill with small wounds that only further served to slow her down.

She continued backing and fighting until she felt wood underfood. Cut wood. They'd backed her into the lumber building, and would corner her soon unless she figured something out. She stole glances around herself as she continued to fight, noticing several barrels full of some kind of liquid that was dark and didn't seem to be water.

Slywyn parried the thrust of an Orc with her axe, but took a glancing blow to her arm. It was enough to force her to drop the axe she was holding, leaving her defenseless.

She stomped the floorboards with enough force to shake them, causing several Orcs to lose their footing and fall, and dashed toward the barrels. She ripped a torch from it's holder as she went, carrying it right toward them. One of the Orcs realized what she was doing as she was doing it and yelled out a warning, something she couldn't understand.

She gripped one of the barrels with her free arm and dumped it to the side, spilling something thick and foul-smelling all over the wooden floorboards. A few Orcs started to make their way across the slick of whatever it was when Slywyn tossed the torch onto it.

Whatever the liquid was caught fire almost immediately, burning fiercely in the night. Another cry went up from the Orcs, several that had been standing in the slick catching flame as well. Sly stood atop the rim of the second barrel and kicked it as hard as she could with her back to the wall. It skittered across the floor before upending before the Orcs that had backed her into the lumbermill, splashing across them.

The fire continued to spread, catching several of the newly-doused Orcs aflame before spreading more to the woodwork, sending the dry timber up like matchwood. Sly hated to see the wood burn as it was such a waste, but it was better than it being used to fell more trees. She slipped through a window of the building as the Orcs switched their attentions from her to the blaze to try to save the building, and began to make her way back to the trees.

She made her way almost out of the camp before she started to sprint for the treeline. She'd almost made it before someone or something in robes stepped out from behind a tree, hand raised. Slywyn let loose a scream of frustration, pulling her dagger from her belt, and lept at the figure to attempt to end the threat before it could really begin.

What looked like lightning ripped from it's hand, darker than the night around it. The magic slammed into Slywyn's chest and stopped her mid-air, propelling her backward and into the ground. Her head struck something hard and she lost focus, her vision swimming.

Whatever the figure in the robe was doing to her hurt more than anything she'd ever experienced. It felt like her insides were on fire and eating her alive from the inside out. Her hands clawed at her stomach before the pain grew too great and her world went white, and then dark.
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  #31  
Old 06-30-2011, 08:36 AM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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Slywyn slowly came back to consciousness in fits and spurts. She felt like she was swimming in tar, the surface so close and yet so far away. She could hear ghosts of voices, mumbled words and phrases in a language she knew, but couldn't remember. And then the pain would hit her, and she'd tumble back down into darkness.

Over time, rising near the surface became easier for her, and it slowly felt as if she was simply sleeping, instead of lying where she was, dead to the world. Eventually, she was able to open her eyes a crack, and she was brought back to the world of the living.

Her whole body ached. She felt like she'd been run over by a kodo and then dropped off a tree. Every joint felt swollen and almost useless. It hurt to move. She stirred a bit even so, trying to sit up and see around her. Either her eyes weren't quite working yet, or she had some kind of covering over her.

Sly finally managed to sit up, having to take a deep breath and push the pain of the movement down. She moved an arm to try to wipe the darkness away, though it encountered no resistance. A moment of panic hit her as she worried she might have lost her sight, but she could still... almost see. She could make out the shapes of her body, but beyond perhaps the length of halfway down her arm when held out before her, everything dissolved into blackness.

She heard a noise to her right, turning her head toward it. There was a chuckle, and more movement. It began to speak in Orcish, most of which she could make out.

"I see you are awake." She knew that voice. She'd heard it while she was trying to break through the darkness. She squinted, trying to see him better, and the Orc laughed. "That will do you no good. Your vision is spelled." The statement came as a relief, and she could feel herself relax a tiny bit. "Can't have you escaping, now can we?"

As feeling came back to her extremities other than a dull numbness, she could hear him walk away. She began to try to figure out where she was through hearing and touch while she had time.

She could hear... almost nothing. No sounds of vegetation. No sound of leaves rubbing together. No wind in the branches. Though, there was the sound of wind. She'd heard it before. The sound of wind blowing through stone. Which meant a cave... or a very large building.

She held a hand out to try to tell, but she could only feel that the air around her wasn't hot, and didn't feel very humid. She could only think of a few caves near Ashenvale, and none of those were very big. There also weren't any Orcish buildings in Ashenvale that she thought were big enough to feel like this.

But she didn't know how long she'd been swimming in the dark. If she was out for any length of time, they could have taken her any number of places, and the farther she was from Ashenvale, the lower her chances of escaping safely were.

She could hear him coming back, and listened. The sound of leather shoes scraping across stone. She was definitely inside of something. But she couldn't tell what. Then her ear twitched slightly. From the same direction as the scraping of shoes came, she could hear the quiet tinkle of thin metal against thin metal. The sound of the shoes stopped near her, and she heard hands grab onto something.

They were inside leather gloves. She could smell it, just as she could smell that the air seemed stale. And she could smell Orc. Filthy, unwashed Orc. The gloved hands rubbed against something. It sounded like they were scraping against roughly hewn metal. Bars? A cage? She couldn't tell.

And then when she moved her leg to try to get closer, she realized that something was bound around the heavy boots she wore. She was chained to the floor or bottom of whatever it was.

The voice chuckled again. "Oh, this shall be fun. I've never had a live one to study."
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  #32  
Old 06-30-2011, 06:19 PM
DarkAngel DarkAngel is offline

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Comments: Captive, Part V
Ah, if only she'd had the sense to run when she realized she was outmatched; but that would defeat the title of the story, now wouldn't?

So the anti-vision spell makes it like a dark room, rather than simply shutting off the circuits in your brain? Interesting.

"Study?" Hopefully, this won't involve dissection; or rape. On the other hand, the warlock sounded like he was interested in Sly specifically.

She'd heard it before: the sound of wind blowing through stone, which meant a cave...or a very large building. (That's how I would've done it.)

Keep going on this; you're doing well!
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  #33  
Old 06-30-2011, 06:29 PM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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Originally Posted by DarkAngel View Post
involve dissection
She's had this particular scar for a while. I've just never explained it to anyone.

And I plan to skip over it for the most part in the story. Sort of fade to black.

Even I'm not wanting to read/write that.
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Old 06-30-2011, 07:07 PM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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The Molten Front

(Note: This is not meant to be canon. It's just a write up of my character's point of view as she goes through the Molten Front as if she were 'the' hero. It's also probably going to make Sly look like a sue, but it's for narrative purposes, I promise.)

"Miss Ravenwind! Miss Ravenwind!" Sly stopped short as she walked through the Trade District of Stormwind, looking around for who was calling her name. A guard ran up behind her, panting a bit. She turned to stare at him, her arms crossed.

The guard pushed his visor up, his cheeks billowing as he caught his breath. "You elves sure do take big steps." He bent over, his hands on his knees. Sly looked him over for some indication of what he wanted, noting a rolled up parchment in his hand. As he stood up, she snatched it right as he began to speak.

"I ha-." He stopped, peering at where the paper used to be. "Um, your assistance is requested in Hyjal." Sly turned away from the paper she'd already begun to read, and glared at him.

"Bye."

The guard blinked for a moment, then as Slywyn continued to glare at him, began to look unsettled. He finally turned on his heel and started away, walking much faster than would seem normal. Sly's scar, and her predator's glare, usually did that to people. She smirked a bit, then turned to the parchment, her eyebrows slowly going up as she read.

The Guardians of Hyjal, led by Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage, seek brave heroes to assist with a full-scale assault on the Firelands.

Willing and able-bodied heroes of the Alliance should report to the Sanctuary of Malorne in Mount Hyjal immediately.


Her lips pursed, then she tossed the paper to the street. "Looks like I'm getting altitude sickness again."

----

Matoclaw the Tauren stood at the Sanctuary of Malorne as heroes from all over Azeroth slowly turned up to assist the Guardians in their impending assault on the Firelands. Undead, Elves of both kinds, Humans, Orcs, other Tauren, all were answering the call.

But someone they were waiting for was still missing. She craned her head, looking for the familiar ear she'd gotten used to seeing the last time the Elf had been in Hyjal. She opened her mouth to yell as she spotted a head of white hair, but it turned out to be a Blood Elf.

Then she saw her. "Slywyn!" The Tauren waved her arm, gesturing the Night Elf over once she caught her gaze. Several angry cries came from the crowd of defenders and heroes as the Night Elf pushed her way over. She stood about half a foot higher than the Tauren, and her familiar blue armor made her an imposing sight, especially with the hilt of her sword sticking up over her shoulder.

Slywyn smirked at the Druid. "You called?"

Matoclaw nodded, letting out a slightly relieved sigh. "Thank you for answering our call for aid, Slywyn. Many of the Guardians did not want to start without you. Unfortunately..."

Slywyn quirked an eyebrow. "Unfortunately...?"

"You're a bit late. Hamuul, Malfurion, and some of our esteemed guests have already traveled to the invasion point, atop that cliff. Our gate to the Firelands is not yet completed, but it will be shortly. The sooner we can break through, the better. Go on! Hamuul will be expecting you." Matoclaw pointed behind her to a cliff with some kind of strange portal-thing sitting atop it.

Slywyn nodded, then looked to the cliff that Matoclaw pointed out. She spun on her heel, immediately heading away. Matoclaw's goodbye was drowned out by the growing din of the crowd.

----

Slywyn strode up to Hamuul Runetotem after climbing the hill, tapping the Tauren on the arm. He spun around to see who wanted his attention, then smiled. "Slywyn. It is good to see you again. Our gate is nearly opened."

Hamuul gestured behind him to the strange portal. "We appear to have everything under control. Our invasion portal to the Firelands will be opened momentarily, and the elementals have not put up much fight. Assist our druids by dispatching the last few of these elementals. Then, once the gate has been opened, we can make our move."

Slywyn looked around his shoulder, leaning to her right, to see that several elementals were indeed harassing the defenders, but they were being put down quickly. She nodded, then moved to stand at Hamuul's side as they waited for the portal to come open.

Finally, the portal tore open with a flash of flame, and a veritable army of elementals rolled through. Hamuul turned to Slywyn to call for her to enter the fray, but the Night Elf was already off like a rocket, charging straight for the nearest elemental.

----

The combat was short and quick, dead husks of elementals cluttering the ground before the newly-opened portal. Slywyn pulled her blade free of the molten corpse of one, going to sheathe it, before she noticed something stirring in the portal's maw.

She turned toward it, and the shape of a female Night Elf came into view. Clad in flame-wreathed robes, she strode out of the portal as if she owned it.

Hamuul raised his arm, calling out to the gathered Druids. "Druids, hold your fire! She is unarmed!"

Slywyn turned to ask Hamuul if he was an idiot, but her jaw dropped. Standing next to and slightly behind Hamuul Runetotem, was none other than Malfurion Stormrage. She had to fight the urge to go to a knee. Malfurion also raised a hand. "Wait a moment... I know that girl. Leyara, is that you?"

Slywyn pivoted back toward Leyara, eyeing the Druid clad in flame. She took a step toward the Druid, but recoiled almost immediately. She was giving off so much heat that the trailing edge of Slywyn's armor actually began to glow red.

"Minions of the Firelord, lay waste to these invaders! The Guardians of Hyjal shall burn for their arrogance!", the Flame Druid called out. Slywyn's face turned down into a frown, and she readied her blade.

"You will all suffer the wrath of Ragnaros! DIE!" The searing heat around her turned out to be a prepared spell, and Leyara unleashed a nova of flame around her that killed some of the more adventurous Druids almost immediately.

Slywyn had to turn away to shield her eyes, feeling the outskirts of the spell wash over her. She snarled, then turned and charged the Druid of the Flame, leading swordpoint first. The Flame Druid simply laughed, jumping into the air.

She turned into a phoenix midjump, and Slywyn hacked at empty air. She glared up at Leyara. "No matter. I shall watch Hyjal burn from afar." Leyara then flew out of arrow or spell reach, winging off to another point in Hyjal.

Slywyn turned to the two powerful Druids, waiting for some kind of information or orders. She once more sheathed her sword.

Hamuul spoke first. "A flame druid... she is dangerous, Malfurion. You know her?"

Malfurion turned to Hamuul. "Yes, Hamuul. And she's more dangerous than you know."

Slywyn raised an eyebrow, striding toward Malfurion. "Just what the hell was that."

Malfurion eyed Slywyn, his lips pursing ever so slightly. "We should not worry about this "Druid of the Flame" for the time being. We must be concerned with the continuance of our operation. Return to Matoclaw at the Sanctuary of Malorne. If Ragnaros was prepared for our arrival, then I anticipate that his forces will launch a counterattack soon."

Slywyn nodded to Malfurion, gave a wave to Hamuul, and started back down the hill.
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Old 06-30-2011, 08:33 PM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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(Note: This is not meant to be canon. It's just a write up of my character's point of view as she goes through the Molten Front as if she were 'the' hero. It's also probably going to make Sly look like a sue, but it's for narrative purposes, I promise.)

Slywyn pushed her way to to Matoclaw, brushing a bit of soot off of her armor. Most of the crowd was still focused on the portal to the Firelands, now still and silent.

Matoclaw gasped when she saw Slywyn, moving toward the Warrior. "What happened up there? I saw fire and... never mind, you can tell me later. We have other, more immediate matters to attend to."

Sly's eyebrow went up, questioning the Druid.

Matoclaw continued. "Our invasion plan looks to have backfired. Several of our birds have already reported in, speaking of fires breaking out across the vales of central Hyjal." She gestured out to the east of the Sanctuary of Malorne.

"Now, many of our druids are stranded out in the field, unprepared for such a large-scale attack. Thisalee was near Ashen Lake, and several others were out in the Regrowth, to the northeast." She looked at Slywyn meaningfully. Then shoo'd her when she didn't get the idea.

"Go, Slywyn! Find them, and make sure that they do not succumb to this backdraft!"

Sly frowns a bit at her treatment from the Druid, nodding curtly before stepping off into the Regrowth.

----

Slywyn spotted Thisalee first near the lake, swooping down on the back of Malcarion, her Black Drake. Riding him in Hyjal was a risk, as he could be mistaken for a Twilight Drake, but time was of the essence. Mal landed flat atop one of the elementals, crushing it under his weight and claws. Slywyn lept from her saddle, driving her blade through the center of another elemental's core, and killing it instantly.

She ran to the Druid of the Talon's side, helping her up from where she'd fallen when Mal landed. She looked fairly beat up, breathing heavily. "Hey, Slywyn, you're here! These guys came out of nowhere! Help me out while I catch my breath."

Sly nodded, turning her back to Thisalee while the Druid caught her breath.

Between her and Mal, the elementals attacking her were able to be held back long enough for Thisalee to recoup herself. "I can handle things from here. I'll meet you back at the Sanctuary, Slywyn."

Sly glanced behind her, saluting with her sword. She muttered something in Draconic to Mal, then climbed onto his front left foreleg, standing on his claw. She wrapped an arm around his leg and held on as Mal took off into the air.

They headed east, back into the Regrowth, to look for the next fighters. It didn't take long to spot the besieged Elderlimb, some of the Ancient's branches already having caught fire.

Sly looked at Mal, and as if acting on some unspoken command, the drake flung Slywyn into the air, and she pointed herself like a missile. It was something they'd done before, but only rarely. And she trusted his aim.

True to Mal's mark, Slywyn impacted with an elemental at high speed like an armored wrecking ball. Most of her force disappated on impact, but she still had to roll to cushion her landing on the ground as pulverized elemental rock rained down around her. Her shoulderpads, specially reinforced and augmented for exactly that purpose, took most of the force of the blow, leaving Slywyn unscathed.

Mal landed atop another elemental, melting it with a gout of flame from his maw. The battered Ancient looked like it could have cheered. "Your arrival is timely, Night Elf. I tire of fighting these wretched things."

Slywyn smirked at the Ancient, standing under it's sheltering limbs to continue the fight against the elementals. After several minutes, it appeared that they'd beaten back the worst of the attackers. "I can hold them off from here, Night Elf. We will meet again at the Sanctuary of Malorne."

Slywyn was already running up Mal's tail, who was making ready to take off, before the Ancient had even finished speaking. She settled into the saddle as the drake took off, the Ancient waving his goodbyes.

It wasn't long before the pair spotted the last of the embattled fighters, a Druid pair that Sly could have sworn was a 'pair' the last time she met them for a short time. Mal hovered for a moment in the air, the drake beginning to look winded. Sly dropped from her saddle to the ground, landing with a metallic clank. The drake flew a short distance to catch his breath while Slywyn assisted the two Druids.

Tholo was the first to notice Slywyn and speak. "Look, Anren! Slywyn has come to help us!" And so she did.

It wasn't long before the elementals were beaten back here as well, and it looked like there were less on the field than before. They were either being beaten back, or gathering for something. Either way, Slywyn knew she had to get back to the Sanctuary soon. Tholo seemed to sense her decision, waving to Slywyn with his back to Anren. "Thank you, Slywyn. As long as we stay together, Anren and I will be fine. Go check on the others!"

Sly nodded, then put an arm up into the air, circling her hand around with her pointer extended. It seemed to be some sort of signal, and Mal appeared a few moments later. She lept up, grabbing ahold of the saddle strap with one hand, and hung there as Mal kept flying toward the Sanctuary.

She could already see from the air that they were under heavy attack. Slywyn knew she was a good fighter, but it didn't look like things were going well at all. She wondered if she'd be able to stem the tide.
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Old 06-30-2011, 11:37 PM
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Sly's armored boots hit the ground like twin thunderclaps when she lept from Mal's back. She stood slowly, making her way to Hamuul, who was holding the line in bear form. She put her hand on his shoulder. He spared a glance her way. The elementals were coming.

He tried to sound hopeful, but it was clear he was putting on a front. "Slywyn! You're back!" He grunted, swiping an elemental that ventured too close. "They've pushed us back to the Sanctuary. We are vastly outnumbered. At this rate, the Guardians of Hyjal stand little chance of survival." He looked to Slywyn, eyeing her. "I'm glad you're here with us."

Slywyn's expression grew grim, and she slowly drew her greatsword from her back. She faced the elementals, readying her blade.

They came for her.

The fighting began in earnest as the elemental's second massive wave hit the Sanctuary. The defenders were holding, but barely. Slywyn's armor was starting to have more scorchmarks than clean spots by the time she finally opened her mouth. "What the hell's the plan here? Die?"

Hamuul called to her from a short distance away. "Malfurion is working on a miracle for us. He believes that, in this time of peril, he can resurrect Malorne to protect the sanctuary. I have faith in him." He glanced to Slywyn meaningfully, intending her to catch what wasn't said. She did, and snorted, slicing a smaller elemental in half in the process.

"In the meantime, we need to hold this perimeter. Stand by, and make sure no harm befalls my fellow arch druid."

Slywyn laughed. "What the hell do you think I'm doing!?"

She didn't believe that Malfurion could resurrect Malorne. She'd watched the great stag die. No one came back from something like that. But she would hold the line as long as she was able.

As the fight drew on, Matoclaw spoke out from somewhere nearby. "The invaders are fast approaching, Malfurion! Give up this ritual and join the fight!"

Malfurion grunted. He was standing near the statue of Malorne, channeling magics into it, or the ground, or something. Slywyn couldn't tell, and didn't have time to look. It was all she could do was hold them at the stairs at this point. Footing was becoming perilous, shattered molten stone littering the steps she was defending.

Matoclaw spoke out again, her voice had a slightly shrill edge to it. "With your help, we can repel them!"

Malfurion shook his head. "No, Matoclaw. Ragnaros will not be content to send mere foot soldiers to attack us. I sense something larger is coming, and we will need the strength of Malorne if we are to survive."

Slywyn snorted again, looking up at an elemental. "As if we didn't have big enough problems.", she muttered.

Hamuul seemed to have heard her, speaking to both Matoclaw and Slywyn. "Have patience, Matoclaw. The ritual is nearly complete."

Slywyn turned to him, gaining a moment by cleaving three elementals to bits. "Patience? We're running out of ground." Ironically enough, this was the point Slywyn slipped. She caught herself on her arm, barely able to parry the strike of an elemental. She kicked it down the stairs, knocking over several more. "We're running out of time here, Malfurion!"

Appearing out of the distance, almost as if emphasizing her point, a massive elemental, towering over most of the trees, began his slow walk to the shrine. Slywyn could tell. If this thing reached the shrine, they were done. She watched it approach, calling out of the corner of her mouth. "Malfurion... you really need to do something!"

Matoclaw apparently chose this point to break, her voice shrill. "Elune's light... what is that thing?"

Hamuul's voice rang out. "Hold them back! We need to buy more time!"

Slywyn hit an elemental with the flat side of her blade as hard as she could, shattering it's arm and side with the force. Her blade shook in her hands, almost threatening to shake itself loose. Her strength was flagging. The battle was wearing on her. "WE'RE OUT OF TIME, MALFURION."

The massive elemental was almost here. It's voice bellowed, sounding deeper than anything she'd heard before. "Buuurrnnn!"

Slywyn heard as much as she felt power being released behind her. Malfurion's voice sounded strained. "Hold the line! They must not break through!"

Slywyn let loose a scream, charging the elementals. She wasn't going to die defending some stupid steps. She was giving herself fully to the fight, giving the elementals everything she had.

She could see the massive elemental charging some kind of spell. The fight was about to be over. And it wasn't going to end well for the defenders. "Succumb to living flame!" It raised it's arm.

Hamuul's voice rang out above the din of battle, clear and strong. "Stand strong! Only a bit longer!"

Slywyn was lost in the battle. She only realized what happened then the elementals stopped fighting her, staring up at something massive behind her. She turned to look over her shoulder, and all she could see was a gigantic white leg. Thicker than a tree trunk. Hooves as sharp and hard as diamonds.

Malorne, reborne.

Slywyn's eyes rolled up in her head, and her legs went weak. "Malorne..." Her legs gave out in shock, and everything grew silent. All she could see was the huge stag charging over her, antlers lowered to attack the elemental.

She felt the collision more than she heard it, and then her back hit the ground, and her world went dark.
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Old 07-01-2011, 06:28 AM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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Slywyn awoke to someone gently tapping her face. "Slywyn. Lady Slywyn! Wake up!" She opened her eyes, blinking in confusion. She wasn't quite sure what happened, and peered at the Guardian tapping on her face. "There you are."

She sat up, pushing herself out of the bed she was in. She put a hand to her head to try to soothe her headache. "What the hell happened?"

"By all accounts you were knocked out by an elemental. Something hit your head. No permanent damage, just a nice little knot that will heal in time." Slywyn nodded, waving the Guardian away. She stood, then noticed her sword leaning against the side of the tent. She grabbed it, slowly sheathing it.

"What's going on out there?" She pointed out of the tent.

The Guardian smiled at her. "Malorne drove the invaders back. And Malfurion wants to see you." Slywyn raised an eyebrow, then nodded. She waved him out of the tent with her hand, then headed out after him.

Slywyn climbed the steps to the shrine proper, peering at Malfurion. "Yeah?"

Malfurion didn't offer a smile, beginning to speak. "Malorne's strength alone may have just saved Kalimdor. To imagine, Malorne has returned today, after so long an absence..." Malfurion gestures around the area to the Sanctuary and regrowth. "We've taken heavy losses. Though the immediate threat is no longer present, our forces will need time to heal, and to put out any remaining fires here in Hyjal."

His brow drew down. "Our attack on the Firelands will have to wait." He gestured to Hamuul. "Runetotem wishes to speak to you." With that Malfurion turned around, ending the conversation.

Slywyn made a face at the Archdruid's back before stepping off the short distance to Hamuul. The Druid seemed slightly worried, and began speaking before she stopped in front of him. "We suffered heavy losses during the backdraft after our invasion attempt. Our second attempt cannot fall. We need more reinforcements before we attempt another invasion. Please, Slywyn, work with Matoclaw to obtain enough resources to afford reinforcements. Then, we take our second and final stab at the Firelands."

Sly nodded. "I'll get to it."

Hamuul smiled a small half-smile and nodded, then gestured toward Matoclaw, who stood a few yards away. "The sooner we can break through our invasion portal, the better."

Slywyn grumbled a bit at being sent all over the place, then headed toward Matoclaw. The Tauren Druid gave a bit of a sheepish smile, apparently still embarrassed about her behavior, before starting in on tasks.

The work began.

----

A few days later, Slywyn returned to the Sanctuary of Malorne, having received a letter from the Guardians that they were ready for the next stage of the invasion. Hamuul was waiting at the Sanctuary when she arrived. Sly stepped up in front of him, raising an eyebrow. "Are we done yet?"

Hamuul nodded. "Excellent work. I will send for our reinforcements right away."

Sly grumbles, turning to watch Hyjal. "Could have done that while I was on the way..."

Hamuul placed a hand on her shoulder. "Before we depart, Slywyn, I have another matter to which you should attend."

Sly turns her head to face him, raising an eyebrow.

"A Druid of the Flame has been spotted in the ruins to the northwest. I suspect it is the same one that attacked us at the portal several days ago. Now would be an ideal time to see what it is that she truly wants... and if necessary, dispose of her. See to this flame druid, then we can continue on our planned course." Hamuul pointed off to the west, toward the edge of Hyjal.

Slywyn's brows knitted together, and her lips drew up into a snarl. "Gladly." She circled her finger in the air, already starting off down the stairs toward an open area for Mal to land.

----

Slywyn climbed down off of Mal's saddle, standing just outside the small ruins on the edge of Hyjal. She could see someone standing just on the edge, and drew her blade. She waved Mal off, who headed back to the Sanctuary to await her.

She began walking toward the figure, able to tell it was Leyara as she ventured closer. The familiar flaming Druidic regalia was a dead giveaway. Slywyn strode up to the Druid. Her instinct was telling her to strike first and ask questions later, but she wanted to know what all of this was about.

As she approached, Leyara began talking. "That Malfurion... fitting of him to send his Night Elf underling to speak with me." It seemed she was speaking to noone at first, but turned to face Slywyn as she continued. "He has proven himself a coward, as always."

Sly's lips drew up in a snarl. "I am no one's underling. And, Malfurion, a coward? How can you justify that?"

Leyara let out a sharp bark of a laugh. Her voice sounded strange, as if the air inside her was boiling. "Never you mind, Night Elf. The details of my past were burned away when I joined the Druids of the Flame. They are of no concern to you." She waved a hand to Slywyn dismissively, earning an irritated growl out of the Warrior. "Besides, I am here to discuss the future of this realm. And I do not plan to discuss it with you."

She went rigid, her eyes beginning to burn with power. "Now answer me... where is Malfurion!?"

Slywyn wanted to recoil at the sudden flash of heat, but held her ground. "Malfurion is not here. Only me." She went into a guarding stance with her blade, expecting the Druid of the Flame to attack. Instead, she only laughed.

"Very well. Malfurion shall press into the Firelands, and we will deal with him there. His judgment can wait for a few more brief days." Her eyes burned even brighter, and she cackled in glee. "The tauren arch druid, however, will not be so lucky."

Slywyn's brows drew down in confusion. "Tauren arch druid? Do you mean Hamuul?"

Leyara's answer was a burning blast of flame into Slywyn's face, knocking her to the ground. Her blade skittered out of reach. She was stunned and unarmed, at the mercy of the Druid of the Flame. "It is already determined. You have no hope... the flames will consume all!" Leyara's head went back, a cackle like that of a hyena leaving her.

Slywyn could hear heavy footfalls behind her, and then Hamuul's voice. She began to try to stir to lift herself up, but found herself unable. Leyara's fireball seemed to have drained her strength, leaving her a heap on the ground.

"You... you're the one from the portal... the druid of flame..." Slywyn couldn't even lift her face to look at Hamuul and try to warn him. "You killed dozens of my students. You will pay for what you've done." Slywyn heard energy crackle, and then Leyara let out a scream of pain.

"Enough of this!" There was a pop, like something displacing air after being summoned.

Slywyn heard Hamuul's voice again. He sounded afraid. "What is this? I...can't move! Someone, help!"

Slywyn managed to push an arm under her chest to try to lift herself, but her limbs felt filled with lead. Her heart, already racing, sped up to try to assist her, but nothing she could do would lift the magical hold the Druid of the Flame had upon her. She struggled against invisible bonds, unable to pick herself up.

There was a crack, like a thunderclap, and the crackle of flame, followed by Hamuul's pained yelling. Slywyn could smell burning leather. "Burn, tauren! BURN!"

Leyara's cackle rent the air. "Have you had enough yet? Have you felt enough pain?" Slywyn felt something akin to being kicked in the gut, her armor doing nothing to stop the blow. She was rolled over by the force, and the sight that met her eyes was Hamuul, wreathed in flames. She tried to draw in air. To breathe. But nothing came.

"Now, look before you! One of Azeroth's most powerful "druids", reduced to nothing but a charred husk. Such is the will of Fandral Staghelm. Such is the will of the flame!" She raised her arms into the air in exultation of Fandral's name, another laugh jumping from her lips.

Slywyn was finally able to suck in a breath, tears of pain coming to her eyes. Her gut felt like it was going to be black and blue for days. Leyara spoke again, slowly beginning to shift into her phoenix-like flight form. "Go on, then. Weep over the body of your precious tauren... though I assure you that your tears will not bring him back."

She cackled again, then lifted off. As Leyara flew away, several of the Guardians flew up. They let out surprised and pained gasps at the sight. Slywyn curled into a ball around her stomach, and one of them dropped to his knees in front of Hamuul. "What... what has happened?"

Slywyn sucked in a breath, quickly relating the story to the Guardian, her voice pained. She could feel strength slowly returning to her limbs, but far too late. The Guardian looked at her, his face betraying tears. "Slywyn, I will attend to the Arch Druid. Malfurion and Matoclaw have requested your presence immediately."

Sly nodded, slowly pushing herself to her feet. She clutched at her stomach, striding to her blade. She wished she'd remembered to get her weapon chain fixed. She'd almost lost it entirely, sheer luck playing it's part in the weapon not dropping off the side of Hyjal.

Slywyn began the trek back to the Sanctuary, not having the strength to even call for Malcarion.

----

Matoclaw run up to Slywyn as she approached. It seemed the Sanctuary was in an uproar, but whether it was from the news about Hamuul, or the impending attack, Slywyn couldn't tell. She put her hands on Slywyn's shoulders. "What happened!?"

Slywyn stood up straighter, beginning to explain the story. Matoclaw listened intently to her. "I went there, to the ruins, like Hamuul asked. Leyara was there. She mentioned something about 'plans for the realm', and that Malfurion was a coward." Slywyn raised an arm to point offhand at Malfurion, who she could see speaking to someone atop the shrine.

"She... stunned me, with some kind of magic. There was nothing I could do." Matoclaw becomes visibly distressed as Slywyn continued. "Hamuul showed up. I guess he was worried. She stunned him the same way, I think, and then..." Slywyn shut her eyes, trying to block out the memories of Runetotem shrouded in flame. "Burned him."

Matoclaw's eyes filled with tears, and blame. She blamed Slywyn for what happened. "You deviated from our plan, Slywyn. Our attack was supposed to happen today! All this preparation... how will we succeed without the aid of Hamuul?" Her voice was filled with accusation.

She shook her head, pointing to Malfurion. "He said meet him in a few hours. He has a few final preparations to attend to."

With that, the Druid started away, leaving Slywyn alone.
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Old 07-01-2011, 03:21 PM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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Slywyn spent the few hours Matoclaw had told her that Malfurion needed sitting out in a cleared part of the Regrowth. She spoke to no one, did nothing, and seemed simply to sit and think, her arms crossed across her knees, her legs pulled up against her chin.

One of the Guardians eventually found her, touching her gently on the shoulder. "Lady Ravenwind. Malfurion is ready for you." Sly glanced up at him, then put her hand against the ground, pushing herself to her feet.

She dusted off her hands, nodding once at the Guardian. "I'm coming."

----

Slywyn strode up to Malfurion as he waited at the foot of Malorne's statue, stopping just in front of him. He nodded once, then began speaking. "There will be time to mourn for Hamuul later. His is the first of many inevitable casualties in this war... but our attack cannot wait, nor should the momentum we have gained over the last several days be wasted." He pointed to the top of the cliff, where the portal was once again open and spitting flame.

"The portal atop Nordune Ridge is now open. Our reinforcements are prepared, and they await only my order to pass through the portal. We will meet again on the other side of the portal. Once there, we shall ensure that our foothold is secure."

Sly nodded once, looking to Malfurion. "I'll meet you there."

The Archdruid gave a single nod in return, then shifted into his flight form and took off toward the portal.

Slywyn turned to begin down the steps, passing by several people. They'd gathered Hamuul's body, and were apparently wrapping it up to bury it. It felt like her heart jumped up into her throat, and she passed by quickly, not wanting to linger.

The Tauren Archdruid had been a valuable companion in the attacks on the Fire elementals in the past, and losing him was a heavy blow. She looked up at the portal on the ridge, vowing to herself to avenge him. Slywyn started the journey up to the portal.

----

She stood just outside the entrance to the portal. Those responsible for the burning of Hamuul, and those responsible for the renewed attacks on Hyjal, lay inside. The heart of the Firelands could actually be seen through the swirling depths of the portal itself. Heat was radiating from it like it would from an oven. Slywyn steadied herself, and stepped through.

The first thing she could sense after she ported through was the heat. The dry, overbearing, overwhelming, heat. But she imagined that being that she was entering the Firelands, she should have expected it to be rather hot. She opened her eyes, and was greeted by the sight of Malfurion and an Elf she hadn't seen before fighting an elemental. Malfurion turned to her as she stepped through the portal, waving her over. "Slywyn! Help!"

Slywyn drew her blade and attacked the large elemental, helping Malfurion and the Elf, who she found out during the fighting was a "General Moonfall", dispatch it.

"Well done. We should be safe for the moment, but we haven't much time." Malfurion started toward a small cave, heading down inside. He pulled a single, large seed from a pouch on his belt.

Slywyn had seen one of those before. She gaped at it. "Is that a seed of the World Tree?"

Malfurion nodded in acknowledgement. "With this seed, we set root. With time and attention, we should be able to grow shelter from this charred, hostile realm."

He held the seed up, which began to glow a soft green. "Here we will hold firm against the onslaught of the elements." He let his hand drop the seed, which fell slowly through the air, suspended by magic. "Here we will draw the attention of Ragnaros' army so that others might strike at the heart of his realm." A crack opened in the scorched earth, and the seed slipped through. The earth then flowed back over the crack, covering the seed. "And now, the war begins." Malfurion nodded at Slywyn, then walked back outside.

Slywyn began to hear combat noises, and followed the Archdruid out. It seemed while they were planting the seed, more defenders and reinforcements had arrived. Slywyn stepped to Malfurion's side. He turned to her, handing her several small, coinlike objects.

Slywyn rolled them in her palm, peering at them. "What are these?"

Malfurion turned to her, then his eyes flicked to Jarod. "Ask him." The Archdruid turned away, joining an already existing conversation between several other Druids who had just arrived. Sly growled slightly at the dismissal, then turned away.

Jarod was standing near several other Druids, conversing with them, when Slywyn walked up next to him. She rolled the little tokens in her hand, showing them to the Commander. "What are these?"

Jarod smiled a little, poking one of them. "They are tokens of respect, purchased only with blood on the battlefield. Earning enough of these marks will be critical if we plan on winning this war."

Slywyn raised an eyebrow, appraising the Commander. "And why is that, exactly?"

Jarod withdrew his hand, turning to sweep it over the view in front of them. That of the Firelands. "To stand a chance in this battle against Ragnaros, we must gather allies who will gladly brave the scorched plains of the Firelands. And before we can recruit such allies to our cause- be they druid, soldier, or simple provisioner - we will need to give them a reason to join us. Carrying even a handful of these marks signifies you as a hero to our cause. Gather them in the hundreds... and you will lead armies." Jarod smirked, turned back to Slywyn, and closed her fingers over the marks there. "Are you beginning to see the plan yet?"

Slywyn's eyebrow slowly crept up. "Possibly."

Jarod nodded, then pointed over to Malfurion, who Sly just now noticed was calling to her. She looked up at Jarod once, then started toward Malfurion. She pocketed the marks she was given in one of the many pouches on her belt.

Malfurion was waiting. He nodded once as she approached. "The Shadow Wardens are back in the Regrowth. I know that they take the loss of Fandral from their custody very seriously, so it wouldn't take much prodding to bring them to the Firelands to hunt the Druids of the Flame, and perhaps aid us otherwise in the process." He gestured to the pouch that Slywyn had stashed her marks in.

"Should you come upon enough marks, you should seek out Captain Saynna Stormrunner at the Sanctuary of Malorne and secure her aid." He pointed back toward the portal. "And I've just received word someone back at the Sanctuary wishes to see you."

Slywyn's eyebrows went up, practically disappearing into her bangs. She nodded once, then started back toward the portal to return to the Sanctuary.
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Old 07-02-2011, 05:19 PM
DarkAngel DarkAngel is offline

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Comments: The Molten Front

Quote:
Originally Posted by Slywyn View Post
(Note: This is not meant to be canon. It's just a write up of my character's point of view as she goes through the Molten Front as if she were 'the' hero. It's also probably going to make Sly look like a sue, but it's for narrative purposes, I promise.)
No problem. The game sort of boxes you into that role. Why not have fun with it? Anything that keeps you writing is a good thing.

About this scar you mentioned in the previous story; it's on her face, I take it? It would have to be to get that reaction. Forgive me if you mentioned it somewhere before.

Aha! So this is what really happens when you accept a quest. Still, that does leave the question about why the guard (presumably working on behalf of someone higher up) would flag her down specifically. The message sounds more like something that would be posted on a bulletin board. Then again, that would eliminate the humorus encounter. As a second note, does Sly think of herself as a "hero of the Alliance?" I'd think she'd be much more cynical about it, given that she's been treated harshly by one of the Alliance governments.

Okay, this is crossing into Sue territory. The Guardians wanted her sepecifically, out of all the hundreds of mercenary/adventurers roaming the world? On the other hand, it sounds like she has quite a history with them already. See, this is what happens when you start a story in the middle instead of the beginning. It make her esteem seem unearned.

I've always wondered how it is we can smack weapons into elementals made of lava and not get your swords melted. Then again, mounts materialize out of nothing.

"so much heat that the leading edge of Slywyn's armor actually began to glow red" You meant the facing side, right?

"Sly frowned a bit" This story is in past tense.

Slywyn just happens to have a Black Dragon at her disposal? There's got to be a story behind this one too.

How do you melt a Fire Elemental?

You need to decide whether the Ancient is an 'it' or a 'he.' Don't use both.

Again, forgive me if I've forgotten, but Sly fought in the War of the Ancients? That makes her pretty darn old.

"Slywyn could tell that if this thing reached" I think that was supposed to be one sentence.

The massive elemental was almost there. Third-person past perspective.

"The Guardian" may be a bit character, but he needs more description. Just specifying his race would be enough.

"Malfurion gestured around" Game text might need some retooling before going into a story, heh heh.

With that, Malfurion turned

"A few days later?!" After following the quests that closely, you suddenly make concession to reality? Sacrelige!

"Sly grumbled,"
"Sly turned her head"
"Matoclaw ran up to Slywyn"
I'm seeing a pattern here...

How did Sly deviate from the plan? Or, is Matoclaw just projecting her emotions onto a scapegoat?

"Lady Ravenwind?" Why does everyone keep calling her that?


She closed her eyes. That was our loading screen, I bet.

Jarod Shadowsong just appeared? You didn't confirm his identity by using his surname, nor did you in any way indicate surprise at his sudden appearance. Did we lose a paragraph somewhere in there?

Over all, I think you're doing very well. However, you're following the quests a bit too closely for my taste. Porting a book into a movie forces you change some things. That might apply here, too.
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Old 07-02-2011, 07:41 PM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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Comments: The Molten Front


No problem. The game sort of boxes you into that role. Why not have fun with it? Anything that keeps you writing is a good thing.

About this scar you mentioned in the previous story; it's on her face, I take it? It would have to be to get that reaction. Forgive me if you mentioned it somewhere before.

Aha! So this is what really happens when you accept a quest. Still, that does leave the question about why the guard (presumably working on behalf of someone higher up) would flag her down specifically. The message sounds more like something that would be posted on a bulletin board. Then again, that would eliminate the humorus encounter. As a second note, does Sly think of herself as a "hero of the Alliance?" I'd think she'd be much more cynical about it, given that she's been treated harshly by one of the Alliance governments.

Okay, this is crossing into Sue territory. The Guardians wanted her sepecifically, out of all the hundreds of mercenary/adventurers roaming the world? On the other hand, it sounds like she has quite a history with them already. See, this is what happens when you start a story in the middle instead of the beginning. It make her esteem seem unearned.

I've always wondered how it is we can smack weapons into elementals made of lava and not get your swords melted. Then again, mounts materialize out of nothing.

"so much heat that the leading edge of Slywyn's armor actually began to glow red" You meant the facing side, right?

"Sly frowned a bit" This story is in past tense.

Slywyn just happens to have a Black Dragon at her disposal? There's got to be a story behind this one too.

How do you melt a Fire Elemental?

You need to decide whether the Ancient is an 'it' or a 'he.' Don't use both.

Again, forgive me if I've forgotten, but Sly fought in the War of the Ancients? That makes her pretty darn old.

"Slywyn could tell that if this thing reached" I think that was supposed to be one sentence.

The massive elemental was almost there. Third-person past perspective.

"The Guardian" may be a bit character, but he needs more description. Just specifying his race would be enough.

"Malfurion gestured around" Game text might need some retooling before going into a story, heh heh.

With that, Malfurion turned

"A few days later?!" After following the quests that closely, you suddenly make concession to reality? Sacrelige!

"Sly grumbled,"
"Sly turned her head"
"Matoclaw ran up to Slywyn"
I'm seeing a pattern here...

How did Sly deviate from the plan? Or, is Matoclaw just projecting her emotions onto a scapegoat?

"Lady Ravenwind?" Why does everyone keep calling her that?


She closed her eyes. That was our loading screen, I bet.

Jarod Shadowsong just appeared? You didn't confirm his identity by using his surname, nor did you in any way indicate surprise at his sudden appearance. Did we lose a paragraph somewhere in there?

Over all, I think you're doing very well. However, you're following the quests a bit too closely for my taste. Porting a book into a movie forces you change some things. That might apply here, too.
1)It's the same scar that's in my avatar. That's the most correct drawing of her face that I've had done yet. =)

2) The guard was sent to find her specifically, but he was given only the generic bulletin board message to give her. But he mentions they wanted her when he says that her assistance is requested. I'm probably leaving too much up to the reader to infer.

3a) That's why I mention in the disclaimer that the story is painting her as 'the' Hero. According to the 'lore' or backstory of this particular story, Sly is the Night Elf who's done it all. Saved Darkshore, pushed the Horde out of Ashenvale, etc.

3b) She doesn't see herself as a hero of the Alliance. She helps who she wants when she wants. If she hadn't have felt like going out to Hyjal, she simply wouldn't have gone.

4) Kind of the same as 3a.

5) Enchanted weaponry/armor.

6) I meant that to be her -shoulder- armor, which does have a leading edge.

7) She does have a Black Dragon at her disposal. But yeah, that would take an entire other story. He's all magically bound and blah blah.

8) Rock < Magical dragonbreath.

9) It's a he. :p But yeah, I should probably change it.

10) Slywyn's favorite answer to 'how old are you' is "I was old when Vashj'ir was above sea level."

11) (Yes I'm skipping some of the questions, but mostly the grammatical/writing ones) Yes, because it would logically take time to gather reinforcements. They can't just magically poof there, or Malfurion wouldn't mention they need time to gather them.

13) From what the inferred meaning of that particular quest is(I felt), heading off to look for Leyara seems like a personal favor to Hamuul, rather than anything that was 'scheduled'.

14) They call her "Lady Ravenwind" because Slywyn is the last known member of the Ravenwind line. That makes her the "Lady" or leader of her household/line/house/whatever. What people call her varies(And is meant to lend a little realism) because not everyone would recognize her by the same name, depending on how they'd heard of her.

15) Realistic interpretations of loading screens whee. >>

17) Slywyn can't be everywhere at once, but Jarod Shadowsong was chosen as the Commander of the Ancients earlier in the Hyjal quests(And if you haven't done those particular quests, he doesn't show up in the Molten Front, a rather cool nod to the questers on Blizzard's part). His showing up there, when he's supposed to be in command of the war effort(Under Malfurion, of course), shouldn't come as much of a surprise. So, Slywyn doesn't seem all that surprised to see him.

18) I know, but I wanted this to be -as- close to the quests as possible. But being that I'm at the section where you just have to daily for 10 days with no story movement, I'm wanting to post maybe one or two of Slywyn doing random things. Perhaps visiting home, or doing some of the 'daily' tasks, or earning a few marks.

19) I bet you didn't notice I skipped two numbers.
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Old 07-04-2011, 01:37 PM
DarkAngel DarkAngel is offline

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1)It's the same scar that's in my avatar. That's the most correct drawing of her face that I've had done yet. =)
The one that looks a lot like Varian's? How do you get that from surgury?

Quote:
8) Rock < Magical dragonbreath.
That one was intended as a joke. We destroy Fire Elementals all the time. We can also kill Ice Elementals with frost damage.

Quote:
10) Slywyn's favorite answer to 'how old are you' is "I was old when Vashj'ir was above sea level."
Not to burst your bubble, but if Sly is so old, how come she was just some enlisted no-ranker at the time of war3? Allow me to explain myself: It has been calculated that if accidents, homicides, wars, etc. were the only causes of death, real life people would have an average life expectancy of 5000 years. Obviously, it would be possible to live quite a bit longer than that (Tyrande). Just by attrition, seniority would have gotten her promotions. Then again, you didn't specify the seniority of the soldiers in that camp back at the beginning. Anyway, your story, your call.

EDIT: A hot temper could be the plausible culprit. Chronic insubordination and fighting leads to being passed over by the promotion board. She did kill somebody, after all.

EDIT EDIT: Do the Sentinels have a formal promotion process? For all we know, promotions could be at the discretion of the CO.

Quote:
17) Slywyn can't be everywhere at once, but Jarod Shadowsong was chosen as the Commander of the Ancients earlier in the Hyjal quests(And if you haven't done those particular quests, he doesn't show up in the Molten Front, a rather cool nod to the questers on Blizzard's part). His showing up there, when he's supposed to be in command of the war effort(Under Malfurion, of course), shouldn't come as much of a surprise. So, Slywyn doesn't seem all that surprised to see him.
My point was that if you turn around and there's suddenly someone there, you're going jump, even if you know them.

Quote:
19) I bet you didn't notice I skipped two numbers.
Only after you pointed it out.

Looks like my logical streak is ruining everyone's fun, as usual...
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Old 07-04-2011, 01:50 PM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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The one that looks a lot like Varian's? How do you get that from surgury?


That one was intended as a joke. We destroy Fire Elementals all the time. We can also kill Ice Elementals with frost damage.


Not to burst your bubble, but if Sly is so old, how come she was just some enlisted no-ranker at the time of war3? Allow me to explain myself: It has been calculated that if accidents, homicides, wars, etc. were the only causes of death, real life people would have an average life expectancy of 5000 years. Obviously, it would be possible to live quite a bit longer than that (Tyrande). Just by attrition, seniority would have gotten her promotions. Then again, you didn't specify the seniority of the soldiers in that camp back at the beginning. Anyway, your story, your call.

EDIT: A hot temper could be the plausible culprit. Chronic insubordination and fighting leads to being passed over by the promotion board. She did kill somebody, after all.

EDIT EDIT: Do the Sentinels have a formal promotion process? For all we know, promotions could be at the discretion of the CO.


My point was that if you turn around and there's suddenly someone there, you're going jump, even if you know them.


Only after you pointed it out.

Looks like my logical streak is ruining everyone's fun, as usual...
I thought you meant something else. That's my bad. The scar on her face is from an incident in ICC. The scar that's from the events of captive runs across the entire front of her body. It's covered by armor.

Sly was never interested in leading. And her temper/insubordinate nature got her passed over 9 times out of 10. She got to fight as an 'enlisted no-ranker' and that's all she was ever really concerned with. Not to mention she only joined the Sentinels after their creation. She wasn't really in the 'military' prior to that. I've never specified anything she did prior to the Sentinels, specifically.

Only that she didn't want to be a Priestess, and that she was decent at melee.

Sly's not really the jumpy type, and if she did 'jump' she'd probably just turn around kind of quickly and look at whoever at was with her eyebrows raised.
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Old 07-04-2011, 01:55 PM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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((The character is a Night Elf by the name of Ethaelen. The character herself is supposed to be somewhat of a mystery. These were written for people who already know the character enough to be somewhat familiar with her. They're not really 'stories' so much as glimpses into her head, but I decided I wanted to post them anyway.))

Ethaelen lay on her back in her bunk in the Sentinel's Bunkhouse. She had her own place to stay within Darnassus, but wanted to start getting used to sleeping among the others as much as she could. She was more readily available this way, even if it was harder for her to sleep. She had just finished tossing and turning, and had a slightly frustrated look on her face as she lay there with her eyes closed.

She ran her hand up her chest and then down the neckline of her tunic, feeling for the chain of the pendant she always wore. She pulled the pendant free, setting it atop the cloth. Keeping her eyes closed, she wrapped her right hand around the pendant. She held it like some held religious icons in times of trouble, seeming to draw strength from it. A dull green glow emanated from the emerald set in the center of the silver pendant, enough to illuminate her face in the darkness.

Using the pendant as a security blanket, she slowly dropped off to sleep. Her facial features relaxed, her breathing evened out.

She didn't stay peaceful for long. She began to toss and turn in her sleep, her facial features distorting as something ravaged her mind. Her ever-present nightmare, the one thing she couldn't escape.

Green flames, shadows flickering upon the scene. Ethaelen was standing in the middle of a ring of flames, surrounded by them. Shadowy apparitions passed into view and faded, their expressions contorted into those of hatred. They reached out for her from all sides. If she tried to back away from one, she would run into the grasping fingers of another. She let out a pitiful-sounding cry, her head on a pivot as she tried to find a way out. But none could be found.

The ring of flames began to contort, the boundaries shrinking. And the monsters came closer until she could feel them upon her. Their claws raked at her flesh and clothing, trying to deal damage, pierce her skin, mar her face. And while each and every one pained her greatly, not a one broke the skin. The flames drew ever inward until they touched her. They climbed her clothing, covering her in them until she was a bright green glowing torch in the ever-present darkness.

And the shadows began to scream her name.


Ethaelen awoke, sitting bolt upright in her bunk, her skin covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. She grasped at her pendant, her hand squeezing so tightly around it that her knuckles turned a dull pink as there was no space left for blood. She shuddered, trying to calm herself. She could still hear the apparition's cries of anger and anguish.

"You did this to us!"

"You caused this!"


"Nightmare!"
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Old 07-04-2011, 01:57 PM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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Ethaelen lay quietly in her room at home, having chosen this night to be alone. She was without a blanket, letting the temperate Teldrassil air run across her as it would. A window in the back of the room was cracked open, letting a slight breeze through the similarly open door. Her right hand, as was customary, was curled loosely around the green pendant she wore around her neck. The stone within glowed with a dim green light, throwing her face into shallow relief as she slept.

As was often the case, it appeared her dreams were not entirely peaceful. She seemed to be concentrating on something with inhuman focus.

As usual, the only light came from the sickly green flames that always illuminated these dreams. She knew that's what they were in her waking hours, but when she was dreaming... they seemed far too real.

Ethaelen was sitting cross-legged in a circle of flames, her hands resting upon her legs. She was concentrating, her eyes clenched shut as she tried to focus. Her hands lay open, palms up. A drop of sweat ran down her brow, stalling on her cheek. She did not move, seeming almost to be a statue if it were not for her labored breathing.

A gash was open on the side of her leather armor, the purplish blood leaking from the wound glistening brightly in the reflected firelight. It seemed rather large, and deep. But she didn't even seem to notice. The ground around her in a circle reaching out a foot from her body was browning and dying from some unknown cause.

A translucent, dark figure materialized next to her. The figure bent down, placing the area where it's mouth would be right up against her ear.

"You cannot save them."

Around the area could be seen the figures of several Sentinel sisters, each seeming to be in some state of duress. Each was bound. Several were lying on their sides. Some were sitting up, or leaning on things. One was standing off to the side. But each one seemed to fade in and out, as if Ethaelen was not focused on them. And each glowed ever so slightly with a dim green light.

Only one out of all of them seemed focused and sharp. One of the smaller, younger looking ones was laying off to the side on her back. She lay still, and was glowing the brightest of all. She almost seemed to radiate the green light, as if she was being focused on intently.

Ethaelen herself seemed strangely absent this light.

The figure bent down again, it's voice harsh and grating.

"Give up. They -will- die."

Ethaelen shook her head ever so slightly as more of the area came into view. There were trees all around, walls, ruins. Cages. Beyond those looked to be some kind of camp, and troll-shaped figures paced back and forth. The circle of dying vegetation slowly but surely grew, inching outward.

The figure seemed to kneel or squat down, bringing it's head level with hers, and spoke at length.

"Why do you try? They mean nothing to you. Their deaths would not upset your oh-so-important balance. It is not so delicate that their deaths would tip the scales. And you would be able to save yourself. You are dying."

It did not move, watching her.

Ethaelen knew, even if she would not express it, that she would let herself die to save these Elves. These Sentinels. She didn't know why. The figure was right. They mattered little to the balance. She didn't know why she was trying. But try she did.

It would not be enough.

The figure spoke again. "You have failed."

The Sentinel, glowing vibrantly only moments before, gave a slight kick. The light faded until there was nothing left. And then even the dream-form of her body faded into nothingness.



Ethaelen awoke with a cry, gripping at her side as if the wound, now healed, was paining her anew.

She shuddered in her bed, her eyes shut tight against the memories. She clenched her eyes and jaw, willing herself not to dwell on the thoughts. But they would not go away. She was forced to watch again as life faded from some of the Sentinels, and was forced to watch again as one of the bodies, life already gone, was carted away by a larger-than-life Kaldorei in plate armor.

She had failed them.

"Just as I failed them all", she whispered to no one in particular.
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Old 07-04-2011, 01:58 PM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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Ethaelen was clutching the green pendant in her hand tightly, though the expression on her face was peaceful. She lay in a bed not unlike her own, though the room was different. And the air here was bitter cold, meaning she was covered in a thick blanket. Her arm, head, and pendant were the only things uncovered. The pendant began to give off a gentle glow, and the expression on her face grew to one of curiosity.

"I know you are near. Changing what and who you are does not change your past. I know what you search for when your eyes close. You will not find it."

There was a flash of a face, glowing eyes glinting in darkness. It's expression was one of resignation and perhaps sadness before the vision faded.


Ethaelen's expression changed. Her look of curiosity gave way to one of sadness and regret, her brows drawing down.

She slept peacefully for a time, and then the nightmares began once more.

Unable to sleep because of them, Ethaelen slowly sat up, wrapping the blanket around her frame. She walked outside and to the edge of the balcony of the building in Winterspring. She gazed in the direction Hyjal, trying to catch a glimpse of Nordrassil.

The snow clouds cleared for a moment and the Tree stood silhouetted against the moon and night sky before it was obscured once more.

Ethaelen let out a sigh. She looked full of regret, and longing for something she had lost. She tried for a few more minutes to catch another glimpse of the Tree, but in vain. Giving up, she turned back to the building to attempt to sleep.
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Old 07-04-2011, 01:59 PM
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Ethaelen strode into the Cenarion Enclave in Darnassus looking tired, as had become the norm. One of the Druids there, a fellow by the name of Erendrathis Ivyleaf, stopped her near the door. It had been him who had found her in Rut'theran Village a little over a year ago, wandering confused through the buildings there. She had seemed to have no memory of who she was or what she had done before that point.

Even so, he could tell she had a closer connection to nature than others, and had brought her in for candidacy testing for Druid training. Unfortunately she had failed. They found that, strangely, she could not connect to the Dream by any means. Even when guided by others, it eluded her as if the Dream itself would not allow her within.

They had kept her on, letting her work with them and learn what she could from them. Eventually she was able to stand on her own two feet, so to speak, and was able to secure her own place within the city instead of bunking at the Enclave. She stopped by from time to time, though ever since she had joined the Sentinels as a healer, the visits were fewer and farther between.

That she had come in was a rare treat, but Eren could tell something was wrong.

"You haven't been sleeping again, have you?" He looked at her face, noticing the discoloration under her eyes from lack of sleep.

She had always had trouble sleeping. Almost since the day she appeared she had been wracked by terrible nightmares that often persisted for weeks or months at a time, causing her to lose sleep or even not sleep at all for extended periods of time.

Ethaelen shook her head, turning away from him slightly. "No."

He frowned and nodded, leading her away from the door. "Are they similar?" She nodded without speaking. He let out an unhappy sigh, guiding her to the bench. "You're here to spend the night again, aren't you?"

Ethaelen nodded, leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed.

Whenever the nightmares were at their worst, Ethaelen could always be guaranteed at least one good night's sleep if she slept near the moonwell in the bottom of the Enclave's tower. Something about it's healing energies enabled her to keep the nightmares away, at least for a time. It never lasted long because she always insisted she felt strange near the moonwells, though he often thought she simply didn't want to impede on their hospitality longer than she needed to.

He nodded, standing. "I'll go get you a blanket."

Ethaelen opened her eyes and nodded, giving him a thankful look. "Maybe they'll leave for the night."

He smiled at her before turning away. "They always do."
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Old 07-04-2011, 02:00 PM
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Ethaelen sat up suddenly in her bed, gasping for breath and clutching her pendant. She looked around the room for a moment, reassuring herself as to where she was. Willing herself to calm, she looked around the Sentinel's bunkhouse. None of the others were awake.

She didn't like people to see her like this, trembling against her will at the nightmares that haunted her sleep, but it wouldn't be the first time someone had rushed to her side after watching her awake. She hated that, never able to make them understand just how bad the nightmares were.

Each one was a fear or scenario of failure made real, and she was mocked internally by each. She pushed the thin blanket off of her legs and strode to the balcony overlooking Darnassus, watching the city. Moreso than other cities, Darnassus was alive this late at night. For the majority of it's residents, the night was like the day. They slept during the day and carried out their normal tasks at night.

She jumped down from the second story, landing with a quiet thud on a knee, her hand splayed against the ground. She stood after a moment, her hand immediately going back around her pendant to clutch it against her chest.

She walked among the people of the city for a time, but no matter how many surrounded her, she only ever felt two things:

Fear at being found, and alone.
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Old 07-05-2011, 06:03 AM
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Slywyn was gasping for breath, curled up on her side inside of her cage. Her hands were clutched against her sides, holding onto herself tightly. There was a line purple line of blood that ran from under one armpit, down across her side, turned sideways across her front below her navel, and then back up the other side to cut off just under her other arm.

The Orc hadn't been lying when he said he wanted to study her. They had cut her open, keeping her alive with magic. The pain was unbearable. When they had sealed her closed again, they had injected her with something that they wanted to study the effects of.

She had absolutely no idea what it was, but she knew it was causing her chest to feel like it was on fire. She couldn't take more than the shallowest of breaths before her chest felt like it was going to explode, and her whole body felt like it was on fire.

She let out a quiet moan of pain, curling even tighter against herself. It was only the first night of her being here, but the Orc had promised her more. Much, much more. It was her own fault, he said. She shouldn't have done what she did. Shouldn't have drawn attention to herself.

She uncurled just a bit, feeling her muscles tighten as they slowly became exhausted from the constant strain of holding herself into a ball, but as soon as she did, the pain in her sides flared up again. Something hadn't quite mended right when they sealed her skin closed, and any movement set the wound on fire.

They could have set her outside and told her to run for her freedom, and she wouldn't have been able to move at this point. The pain was simply far too great.

As she curled back upon herself, she could feel that she was still chained. She cried out in frustration and pain and kicked out her other foot, the one not chained, and hit metal. The jolt shot up her leg, setting her chest and sides on fire again. She felt like the pain had gotten worse this time, rendering her even unable to think.

She laid there for a long time, a ball of pain and misery, before someone finally came back. She'd apparently begun crying at some point, because the first thing they did when they returned was mock her.

"Shhhhh. Shhhhh. It'll be okay.", the voice said. A hand reached through the bar to pat Slywyn on the shoulder gently. She flinched away from it, trying to move to the other side of the cage. "That was only the first night. I'd be so sad if you were a broken toy after the first night."

Sly's only answer was a groan of pain. The movement of jerking away from the hand had caused the pain to flare up again. She felt like needles were jabbing into her all over her torso, sinking in deep only to be removed and stabbed right back in. Then there was the searing pain coming from her sides.

They had removed her armor on her chest, leaving her only in her tattered shirt, which was likely not doing anything for her modesty, which they didn't seem to care about anyway. She was an object of study, and that was all.

She could barely hear his feet shuffle across the floor as he moved around to her side of her cage. He left his leather-covered hand to run across the bars, and it made a sound as it touched each of them. She could barely start to get some sort of mental picture of what her room must look like before the pain would wipe it away again.

Not only was her pain keeping her from escaping should the have the opportunity, it was also keeping her from gathering details and planning, something that was almost as bad. All the Sentinels had been given some training on resisting torture, but most of that was focused on not answering questions.

It had said nothing about how to deal with these levels of pain. Slywyn felt the hand reach out and gently touch her shoulder again, and her body flinched. She didn't move away, as she didn't want the pain in her side to flare up again.

She could feel when he touched her shoulder from the way his finger slid, that she was probably covered in sweat. Her whole body was shaking from the pain as well, so she likely looked like someone in the grips of a fever.

He let out a quiet laugh, pulling back from the cage. "Mm. All this after only the first night. I imagine you'll be reduced to a blubbering, useless mess after three."

Sly pulled a deeper breath, risking the pain, to reply. Two words. "Fuck you."
She grunted and curled up again as another wave hit her.

She could almost -feel- the Orc's smile as he leaned in against the bars. "With that kind of attitude, I'd almost say you're ready to begin anew. I'll return shortly."

A little cry of surprise and fear left her lips. She didn't think he'd start again so soon. She tried moving back to the 'center' of her cage, as best as she could tell where it was, but she was frightened, and moved too much. Her sides flared up again, which made her jerk in pain, which only made matters worse.

She eventually ended up spread eagle on the bottom of her cage, wracked with pains. She couldn't move without stirring up some kind of pain somewhere, and every breath brought her the smell of her own blood. She felt like she had torn something inside, perhaps weakened by the 'studying' the Orc had done.

Her chest was beginning to feel numb, and she was starting to wonder if she was going to last the night.
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Old 07-05-2011, 06:16 AM
Slywyn Slywyn is offline

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Ethaelen sat up quickly in bed, shocked awake. She had died in a nightmare. This hadn't happened to her before, and it shook her, scared her. Her hand clutched around her pendant as tightly as it could without cutting her skin, and her arm was shaking from the effort.

She pushed herself out of bed, trying to walk around her room to burn off nervous energy. Her dream kept coming back to her, and it was scaring her. She was shivering in fear from images that she could not escape.

She had been in Darnassus in her dream, wandering the city and thinking as she usually did. She had come across a guard paying particular attention, and the guard had stopped her. She began speaking in Darnassian, and when Ethaelen had answered in Common, it had given the guard pause.

She'd asked her to repeat herself in Darnassian, and Ethaelen had replied that she couldn't, that she hadn't learned the right word. This seemed to raise red flags with the guard, and before she had known what was going on, several more guards had turned up. They were flinging questions at her so fast that each one began to feel like a physical blow.

And then the real nightmare began. One of the guard's mouths had opened, spitting green flames, which latched onto Ethaelen's arms. Another struck her back, flames erupting from her armor where the guard's hand had struck.

Ethaelen had screamed in terror, trying to break away from them, when all of them spoke in unison. "Let you be consumed by what you wrought!"

The flames suddenly engulfed her, wreathing her entirely within them. She had run blindly, falling off the edge of the bridge over the lake in Darnassus, unable to see around the flame. She had sunk like a rock to the bottom of the lake.

The water hadn't put out the flames, and she could still feel them burning on her skin and face. And then she realized that she hadn't taken a breath, and in her panic she was quickly running out of air. She tried to struggle against the water to reach the surface, but it was almost like arms were dragging her back down to the bottom of the lake.

As she began to run out of air, she could see the face that constantly haunted her dreams grinning down at her from near the surface. "You can never escape us.", the voice had said, before Ethaelen's air finally ran out.

Her chest burned for air, and in her panic she opened her mouth to try to breathe. Water flooded in, weighing her down even more. She struggled further, but eventually her strength ran out, and her world went dark.

All she'd been able to hear was the laughter. The horrible laughter, before she awoke, safe and sound in her room.

Or, as safe as anywhere could be when these terrors constantly haunted her.
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Old 07-05-2011, 12:50 PM
DarkAngel DarkAngel is offline

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What are you trying to do, drown me?! You make seven posts in two days? I'll just have to forgive you. Given the somewhat hostile tone of our most recent transactions, I want to make clear that my random musings while reading do not necessarily demand an answer.

Ethaelen #1:
Very good. Nothing to report so far. My Plot Predictor™ is cranking out possibilites:
  1. The pendant is in fact causing the nightmare. The anguished spirits are trapped inside and want revenge.
  2. The pendant is a magical ward given to her by sympathetic druids. The spirits are angry at her for something she did or failed to do in the past.
  3. The pendant is a magical ward given to her by sympathetic druids. The spirits are angry at her for something she will do or fail to do in the future.

Ethaelen #2:
Is there some particular reason she would want to be alone? She was trying to get used to sleeping with others. Maybe they got freaked out by her behavior.

Nightmares about failure are commonplace, but this tormenting figure has me concerned. It sounds like a POW camp, but prisoners would not be armored. Some kind of quarentine, then?

Ethaelen #3:
cleared for a moment, and the Tree
Quote:
Originally Posted by Mike Liberty
Run from your past, and it'll hunt you down even faster.
Ethaelen #4:
Mind erased. Forbidden to enter the Emerald Dream; explains why she can't sleep. Did she piss off the Green Dragons?

Ethaelen #5:
If Darnassus is running on nocturnal time, why is everyone always sleeping at night in this story?

And suddenly, we're back to Slywyn!
There was a purple line
And who is 'they?' The Orc and his assistants?

Ethaelen #6:
Fun Fact: According to urban legend, if you have a dream in which you die, you won't wake up.

I generally avoid excesive compliments, but you're getting really good! As in "rivaling Ori Dubya" good. Your early work was choppy -and a bit too sentimental- but those problems have been solved. I truely feel 'inside the head' with these characters, something I myself never seem quite able to achieve. You've reduced me to complaining about plot logic. If I could declare you "graduated," I would. Bravo.
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