A story of TW

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Re: A story of TW

#406 » Post by Knewklear » 11 Feb 2016 04:33

Cocopuffs wrote:i cant believe this roleplaying homo threat still exists woah. going strong bois
Who's this wannabe thug talking to? :?

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Re: A story of TW

#407 » Post by Dymond » 12 Feb 2016 10:58

I am too saddened by the loss of Demol to reply much, but great job!
“Your mind is a garden , your thoughts are the seeds , you can grow flowers , or you can grow weeds”

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Re: A story of TW

#408 » Post by Kniteknite » 13 Feb 2016 03:57

Cocopuffs wrote:i cant believe this roleplaying homo threat still exists woah. going strong bois
I can't believe Your homo [threat] still exists either ^_^
French fries are like steaks, where the potato is the cow and gets cut up, like meat does, only on a smaller scale

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Re: A story of TW

#409 » Post by Therealpeithne25 » 13 Feb 2016 07:03

bluebell notice me senpai

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Re: A story of TW

#410 » Post by Wilcox » 13 Feb 2016 10:52

Cocopuffs wrote:i cant believe this roleplaying homo threat still exists woah. going strong bois
why does the fun that other people are having bother you so much?

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Re: A story of TW

#411 » Post by Bluebell » 15 Feb 2016 00:54

Going to take a break for a bit, also put a full version so far in the first post, incase someone needs to catch up and the forum is frustrating to read on

People in this chapter:



Chapter 34 - Dalaran Descends


Glaring through the dust the two Arch Angel simply stood opposing each other. Their swords glistening in the dark, their armour shining through the blackness as their holy presence illuminated the glum cave. As the smoke cleared, Intervention removed his helm and discarded it to the side. Chiming onto the floor, its sound echoing through the hollow tunnels.

Pacing slightly to the left, Intervention scraped his blade along the ground, mirroring him Kindzadza walked in a similar circular manner. Their eyes locked on each other as their wings gently fluttered behind, motionless other than the movements of their legs. Cold stares continued until one finally broke the silence.

“So” spoke Intervention, “You came back. I thought I put you in your place a millennia ago?”

“Always so confident” smirked Kindzadza, raising his sword, “You really think you know it all, don't you?” his sword now pointing at his counterpart.

Intervention ignored his comments, “Tell me, brother. How did you retain such a status?” he inspected the Angel up and down, “I banished the right to be of the higher class from you long ago, and yet here you stand an equal.”

Still pacing, Kindzadza stood the same larger height as Intervention. His broad shoulders carrying heavy white wings emitting a pure gold glow, enough to blind anyone who looked directly at it.

“Once I learnt of your plans, Intervention, I did the only thing I could. I took the power we needed to defeat you.”

“The vault of Dalaran? You fool!” protested Intervention, suddenly ceasing in movements, “Do you even know what power resides within those walls? Without it Dalaran is defenceless to the hordes of Demons at its doorstep!”

Matching him, Kindzadza stood still, “Yes I know full well the secrets that you hid from us, Intervention. But there was no Arch Angel in Dalaran for over a year, returning my former powers was the only correct course to take. As you, yourself said, there must always be one Arch Angel.”

Smiling briefly, Intervention looked to the ground, “Yes....” he paused, before his eyes flicked back up, “And here I am”.

Suddenly the Angel vanished from view and Kindzadza's eyes blazed open. Instantly his enemy appeared in front of him slamming down the sword. Defensively he raised it diagonally across his face. The sheer force of the attack sent his feet sliding through the dusty ground, scraping along the floor he held against the overwhelming Arch Angel. Shaking with power, purple flickers wrapped around him as he pushed back against Intervention.

“Tell me, brother” spoke Intervention, “Do you feel righteous?”

Crushing upon his Angel brethren, he continued his attack, their discussion interrupted by intense shouting. Finally Kindzadza broke his attack and thrust him backwards. Swirling their swords once more, they returned to their circular movements.

“Why?” he asked, “Why did you do it? All of this. All our brothers and sisters slain, a thousand years of Angel history rewritten for what?”

Laughing back, Intervention shook his head, “Even now, on the cusp of it all, you do not understand do you? This threat from afar, do you really think they can topple the might of Dalaran? That the rogue Gorecleave is as strong as the Gods? You make me laugh.”

“So tell me, then. Tell me what this is all truly about.”

“You embarrass me. My victory would be complete if not for Peithne at Blackrock. It was simple, with one hand we push the Demons against the humans and wipe them from this land, and with the other we crush them ourselves. Leaving Roel's chosen to rule over the earth alone. Uninterrupted by these pathetic underlings.” he then spit towards the injured paladins.

“But why? What have the humans done to deserve such fury?” questioned Kindzadza.

“What have they done? Look at them!” he boomed, “Weak. Fragile. Emotional vessels of flesh and bone. Their only redeeming feature is their manipulative nature, easy to corrupt and twist.”

“The wars...Even that you played a part?”

“When that little swine Peithne decided to play hero, I had to adapt. It was clear the humans would survive. So I made steps to ensure they would not challenge us again. Separating them in to Orgrimmar and Stormwind factions to prevent a united humanity. Don't look at me like that, I see your eyes and your soul. You played your part in it too.”

“Never.” protested Kindzadza, “I knew not of your plans, you are deceitful, no longer one with the eyes of Roel.”

“I am beyond that. Everyone dances to my tune, even you, Kindzadza. Like a King on the chess board I am the centre piece. No movements needed as those around me secure my victory for me.”

The Dalaran commander smiled, “Like the King, your lack of movements shall be your downfall, as will your arrogance. The humans, they are strong. Even now, in Stormwind when all is lost, against all odds they fight, they push, they stand tall and hope. Look around you, Intervention. Your power wins you the battle, but the bloodlines are coming, and you have lost.”

Screaming loudly and causing rocks to thunder down, he cried “No!” before blinking back to Kindzadza.

Furiously the two returned to their fight. Swords swinging up and down as they unleashed the full power of their holy beings. Extending their wings upwards in the narrow corridors they levitated slightly above the ground. Blinking at increasing speeds till only whiskers of golden streams filled the air they battled, followed by the clanging of their weapons crashing.


Sprinting after the assailant the Stormwind leader fled from the rambling crowds. Occasionally looking behind, she saw the people of the city taking to the streets to battle the oppressive Orgrimmar regime. Just then she saw Smeldor take a sharp right down a narrow street out of sight.

Following after the duo, she ran as quickly as she could down the pathways of Stormwind. Suddenly two soldiers blocked the route standing firm and shouting for reinforcements.

“Here! Here!” they yelled, as the execution assassin galloped towards them.

They then realised he wasn't slowing down. Gnurg watched as the hooded figure made his way towards the two heavily armoured guards. As they raised their weapons he jumped up, one foot propelling himself sideways off the wall and higher into the air. With one motion he sliced his dagger into the neck of the first defender before kicking the second in the face.

As the disorientated soldier stumbled back, the figure dragged his blade from the first and thrust it deep into the chest. Forcing his opponent back as he dug in more, he finally removed it leaving his victim to drop dead on the floor. Signalling back, he vanished once more behind a corner promptly followed by the Ironforge king.

Exhausted, Gnurg called after them, “Hey, wait up!” she then returned in their wake.

Running through the weaving streets of Stormwind, they finally came to an open courtyard. Coming around the corner, Gnurg saw their rescuer stood perfectly still staring at the ground. His daggers by his side, dripping with blood on the white cobble floor. Behind him Smeldor watched, keeping his distance. Approaching them both, Gnurg then saw the threat they observed.

Just beyond the two, a garrison of Orgrimmar knights made line. She estimated about twenty in total, forming position opposing them. Heavily armoured and well trained, they blocked the small exit off. Behind her, Gnurg heard the clatter of reinforcements hot on their trail.

“What now?” she pleaded, “Where do we go?”

The figure ahead simply bowed his head slightly towards her. Pausing for a moment, beyond belief she watched as he sprinted towards the army across from them. As the Orgrimmar soldiers began to pace themselves and against him, the hood raised slightly upwards.

Now in full swing, the two forces ran to collide. Gnurg stood motionless, not knowing whether to flee or run after them. A piercing sound split her attention and she looked up towards the fight.

“For Ironforge!”yelled Smeldor before charging forwards into the fray.

Shocked, she watched the unarmed king run into battle. Facing him were soldiers armed to teeth, angered to the point of bloodshed. Moments before the one figure reached the others, windows smashed around the courtyard. Darting from the houses came multiple hooded individuals, outnumbering the soldiers they came from both sides and engaged their counterparts.

The rogue ahead, now with his opponents busy, shot to the right. Smeldor ran after him into a near by building out of sight once more. Looking at the battle in front, and with the stomping of imperial troops behind, Gnurg quickly began to chase once more. Entering through a shattered window, her leg cut against the broken glass. Pausing not for a moment to grief the pain, she searched for the king of Ironforge.

After a few more minutes of running, the battle before dissipated from the air waves. Now at the other side of the city, they entered into a large building. Giant columns held it up above rows of steps. Once inside, they scuttled into the darkness and through a gap in the wall. Eventually, Gnurg caught up and let out a sigh of relief as she entered the sanctuary.

Banners of Ironforge and Stormwind were drawn up on opposing walls, while at the far back she saw a banner with the letters “TW” embroidered upon it. Soldiers brushed past her well others removed their armour, tables with parchments and maps littered down the hallway. Smeldor went to thank his rescuer, who now appeared oddly timid. As the king shook his hand, the figure undid the hood.

“Knewklear?” he gasped.

“Yes, my King. I have trained with the greatest of Stormwind's guards and the strongest Ironforge knights in the hope that I may soon save you.” he then bowed gracefully.

“Do not bow to me boy, for today is yours!”

As they walked off, a leather strapped archer paced over to greet Gnurg shaking her hand, the archer spoke, “Welcome, Lady Gnurg. Welcome, to the rebellion” said Obliviana.


Their weapons still shaking from their clashes, the two Arch Angels circled once more. Dymond watched as their glares meeting across the stone arena as it crumbled around them. Kindzadza stood firmly in front of the glowing statue of Bluebell.

“You can't stop her” he told him, “She is nearly revived, and I won't let you harm her.”

“She is weak, just as you have become. She will not long be for this world, and nor will her pathetic race.”

“Why though?” asked Kindzadza, “We need the humans, you, need the humans. Their prays give us strength, without them we are nothing!”

“No!” shouted Intervention once again causing rocks to crash down violently. “Without us, they are nothing!” he emphasised “Without them we are everything! The one rulers of this land, Roel's true people. A heaven above and below.”

“You've gone insane. How are you so strong even now? When the prays have gone yet you remain the same state from before?”

The opposing Arch Angel took a smug look, “You think I would be so foolish to leave my power in the hands of these weaklings? I put safeguards in place so that any time the Arch Angel released their energy, a portion of it went unto me. Did you not ever wonder why Nyeriah looked so weak? Why Prodigy required such concentration for such little tasks?”

“You drained the power of your brothers and sisters?” asked Kindzadza in shock, his hand tightening around his blade.

“Now all that was needed was the catalyst. The whispers in the ears for generations of Orgrimmar populace, making them trust Dalaran less and less. An enemy so fierce it threatens the heavens itself. The less power Dalaran holds, the more the Arch Angel must use their divine powers, the graver the threat the greater the action must be taken.”

“All that, just to keep your own life going, just for this?”

“For everything.” replied Intervention confidently.

“No...” murmured Kindzadza, raising his sword, “For nothing!”

Blinking, the purple empowered Arch Angel shot towards Intervention. Now on the offensive he sliced his sword forward. With his long sword in one hand, the confident ancient leader parried the attacks as the two began to speed up going faster through the air. Replacing steps with flutters of their wings they graced through the small chasm from one corner to the next.

A flash of light blinded them momentarily causing the two to stumble back and their battle ceased. Looking up, Kindzadza saw familiar faces stood with strands of gold pouring down.

“Lord Kindzada, what is going on? We noticed your absence and a huge burst of power.” asked the Angel Nephyx.

Rising from his feet and turning to them he replied, “Leave, leave this place now!”

Looking on the three lower class angels examined the room. Their eyes darted back and forth, noticing their higher brother Demol tossed the side, the slumped paladins and the glowing statue. Rocks continued to fall throughout the collapsing Exodar.

“What is going on?” asked a second Angel named Mortium. “Is that Demol? What could kill a councillor of Dalaran? Kindzadza what is going on here?”

“Lord Intervention?!” gasped the third Nymunne

Panting, Kindzadza was unable to respond before his opponent intervened, “Yes, it is I. The heir to Dalaran itself. I have looked over the sacred halls of the Exodar and now I have found that this traitor has broken our most sacred laws.”

“Lies!” shouted Kindzadza, his sword burning in his grip.

Around the two Arch Angels, the lesser deities watched in horror. Shaking they held their weapons firmly, unknowing what to make of the clash of the two gods.

“Look at him.” continued Intervention, “He has taken the power of the vault for himself. Its energy corrupts him even now. Help me, brothers. Smite him before he has gone too far. Let him rest with his own kind before his path is no longer that of Roel's design.”

Anger swelling within him, Kindzadza returned, “Do not listen brothers and sisters! I took the power to stop the evil that lays before your eyes!” he pointed his sword at his smug opponent, “He has corrupted the lives of humanity for generations, even now his plans plunge the world into darkness.”

“Ha!” mocked the Arch Angel, “The true evil is now at Dalaran's door step thanks to your foolish actions. Without the power of the vault at full strength, the city is weak. Defenceless against the demons. That is what he wants, brothers. To see our beloved homeland burn to the demonic horde.”

With tensions rising, the three arrivals began to look towards Kindzadza. Intervention smirked as their weapons vibrated, longing for the coming battle. The distressed leader looked to them and shook his head, unable to change their views his eyes pleaded.

With attentions drawn away, a great rumble shook the cave. Two golden swords rustled from within fallen rocks up to the hands of the soaring Dymond. Screaming with pain she grabbed Demol's blades and dropped behind Intervention, placing them firmly into his armour.

“His lies end here!” she screeched, “Do not listen to his twisted words!”

Roaring in frustration, Intervention thrust his hilt into her face. Demol's weapons retracted as Dymond flew backwards onto rocks.

“Wench!” he shouted after her, reeling from her below as she catapulted into a wall.

Realising the situation, Mortium expanded his white wings. With the Arch Angel still recovering he glided towards him ready to strike, polearm extended aiming to kill once and for all.

“No!” shouted Kindzadza as the Angel went to attack.

“You dare defy me!” shouted Intervention raising his sword.

Before Mortium could make contact, the weapon pulsated. Golden streams blew out of it directly into the oncoming Angel. Intervention glared on as his attacker was reduced to dust. Smoking remains dropped to the floor as a feather floated down.

The two remaining Angel soldiers readied themselves, before Kindzadza stood in front of them. With his blade outstretched, he blocked them off, signalling for them to back away.

Intervention nodded back, his face stern and concentrating on the Arch Angel. Flying up they returned to their previous fight. Backing off the other Angels took distance, watching the blaze of glory. Golden lights flashed around with traces of purple as the tow foes battled, their duel blistering throughout the caverns giving off only echoes as it continued. Time seemed to stop for the onlookers, as the Arch Angels clashed their weapons.

Kindzadza's power began to wane as they progressed. Gradually the brawl began to turn into Intervention's favour. As the higher Angel pushed down upon his lower opponent he noticed the weakness begin to show.

Glancing behind, the Arch Angel saw the statue coming to life. Green swirls began to circle around it as Bluebell's return came closer to reality. Every passing second brought the ancient Paladin nearer this world.

“Enough!” bellowed Intervention before punching Kindzadza in the face seeing the returning human, “You have won this day, but your victory is short lived. For soon Dalaran shall fall.”

With those words Intervention pushed his opponent to the ground. Looking up to the ceiling he extend his wings out. Smashing through the mountain the rogue Arch Angel left, the sacred site collapsing after his exit while a beam of light was all that was left, piercing the narrow crack of the falling roof.

As the dust settled, a wounded Dymond straddled over to the lurching Kindzadza. Has she helped him up on his feet, he noticed she still clutched Demol's golden swords.

“Help them.” he commanded the others, pointing towards the paladins.

Following orders, Nephyx and Nymunne rushed to the aid of Merkava and Teraan. Placing their hands firmly over them, they emitted a healing energy as gold flushed from the grip. Gasping the two paladins felt their bodies renewed with holy power.

“I am sorry that I could not come over” said Kindzadza looking to Demol, and then placing his hand over Dymond's, still grasping the weapons.

“He gave his life to save them” she responded, “But what did he mean? What have you done?”

“The power of the vault is the very essence of Roel. Draining its power brings down the protection of Dalaran, without it, the city is vulnerable. I had to make the decision, I pray I made the correct one. Now come, we must go back to Dalaran, and await their attack.”

Dymond tugged her hand out from his restrain. Glancing over to the two paladins, she saw them recover back to their feet with the aid of the Angels. Looking down to Demol's swords she took a deep breath.

“No. I cannot. I must stay and finish our mission. Go.” she told the Arch Angel.

“You know what is coming. You know what it means to stay.” replied Kindzadza.

“Yes” she smiled, “Just as you knew what it meant to come here. And yet you did. We must all make sacrifices it seems.”

Realising he could not sway her, the Arch Angel simply bowed his head to her. Watching over the other two Angels, they finished healing the paladins and wandered over to him.

“You're staying?” asked Nephyx to Dymond.

“Yes” she replied, “I wish you well my brothers and sisters.”

“And the same to you” Nymunne told her, “Today has been a strange one. Many questions, and more I'm not sure we wish to know the answers to.”

“A grave day for our people indeed.” confirmed Kindzadza, “Farewell, Dymond. Let us pray that Dalaran lives to see the coming morrows.”

A brief curtsy by the four Angels was followed by departure. Extending their magical white wings, they looked up to the heavens. Within seconds they rocketed through the mountain, shooting back up to their homeland. Dymond looked behind to see the barely conscious Paladins stumbling towards her, and the glowing statue of Bluebell.

The ground shook tremendously, nearly knocking the humans over. Unphased the remaining Angel walked over to the bloodline and held her arms out. Suddenly the statue came to life and let out a sigh, falling from the podium came an armoured woman, into the arms of Dymond.

“Take her.” she needs to recover from an eternity of slumber.

Handing over the resting paladin to Merkava, she turned to face the entrance of the Exodar. Accepting Bluebell, Merkava attempted to carry the bloodline while Teraan walked over to the Angel.

“You're not coming?” he asked, “We could use your protection. I'm not sure how many times you've saved us before!”

“No” she declined, “I'm needed here. But give her this.” she then slid a golden ring off her finger and handed it to Teraan, “Now go. Follow the path down and you will find an enclave which exists this structure. Do not forget what you have seen here today.”

Bowing to the Angel, the two paladins left the graveyard. Leaving behind only Dymond amongst the bodies of the two fallen in the battle before, she stood alone. Demol's blades still in hand, she swirled them around causing a golden aura, waiting and standing facing the entrance


“Did you hear that?” asked MadPanda as the ground shook around the Orgrimmar army.

“Ignore it!” demanded Belendor, “Come, quickly!”

Behind him followed his small army. Trudging through the lush landscape they finally came to the Exodar. Hesitant from the purple auras darting through the sky, they etched closer to the target while their leader furiously marched on.

Approaching the entrance, Belendor felt his palm against it. Boiling to touch he quickly retracted his hand. Shattered, the great doors had been blow apart and the purple glowing gems from within shone out through the darkness.

“What happened?” asked MadPanda, “What could have done this?”

Belendor equipped his sword and began to saunter in. Nervously the others looked at each other, gulped and followed suit. They remembered what happened at the ruins of Ahrin'Qiraj, but also knew of the Paladin's fury.

Venturing deeper, the soldiers were in awe at the marvel of Angel architecture. Arching hallways and mosaic patterns caused them to stumble into each other as the barbaric horde were dumbfounded at the ancient culture. Pointing at statues and taking in the scenery, they slowly trundled after their leader. Occasionally, one would attempt to remove a purple gem as a trinket to take home.

Ahead of them, Belendor stormed on. His weapons drawn, shield and sword in either hand. The deeper he went into the holy chambers the more his demonic sword glowed its bloodshot red. Coming to the final room, he saw her. Standing still, her golden aura illuminating the dingy area. Her white wings spread out, while her once glorious robes now tattered, torn and covered in blood.

“Where are they!” he demanded, looking over to the ruins of the statues.

“Gone” responded Dymond.

“What happened here?” asked Belendor, looking at the ashes of Mortium and the corpse of Demol.

Dymond remained silent. Clutching the two swords she simply stared at him.

“Tell me!” he ordered once more, “Tell me now!”

Staring straight at him she started to walk over. Gritted his teeth, the paladin raised his weapons. His shield firmly against his face with his sword held out. His grip began to feel the burning temperatures of the handle with every step she made towards him. Coming closer and closer his magic enthused weapon glowed even more.

“MadPanda!” he shouted turning his head to the entrance, “Get your men down here. Get them here at once!”

Only a few feet away, the two adversaries faced each other. His snarling head turning back to look her in the eyes. He became nervous, the hairs on the back of his neck sprung up with fear as her cold stare looked into his soul. Fear simply made him angrier, as he tried to shake it from his body.

“MadPanda!” he bellowed, “Where are you!”

Around them the mountain shook still. After a small respite, the effects of the catastrophic battle returned as stoned plundered down. Ignoring the surrounding calamity, Belendor tried to remain calm. Frustration rose in the paladin as his army began to catch up.

Panting, MadPanda arrived at his side, “Sir, what is it...We should....leave....this place....it could go at anytime...”

“What are you doing?” he demanded, “Have the men attack at once! She's stood right there!”

Still exhausted from having to sprint after him, MadPanda looked up, “What? Who? Her? Why? Who is she...sir. We.. I don't know if the men can...”

Turning to his second in command, the paladin's eyes turned red. His hands gripped tighten upon his hilt, holding it firmer, the burning pain gone as his focus became true.

“Did you just disobey your general?”

Shaking with fear and letting out a brief sigh, MadPanda was forced to reply, “No, sir. Of course not. Men, push on! This false god is an enemy of Orgrimmar!”

The soldiers knew the outcome. They looked up at the Angel, her heavenly essence blinding their eyes. One by one they drew their swords, and began their assault. Charging past their two commanders, they made their away towards Dymond.

The Angel looked at them wearily. The swords remained still at her side as the enemies worriedly ran at her. Within a blink, they fell down at her feet. Wasting no time she quickly disposed of them, seemingly not moving from her spot. The soldiers behind backed off slightly, not wanting to anger the deity.

“What are you doing?” demanded Belendor, “Can't you see she's tired? Get her! Get her you cowards!”

As the leader spewed his commands, MadPanda signalled to the other troops. Gratefully they began to retreat out of the Exodar with no cause for caution. In stark contrast to their previous graceful descent, the Orgrimmar battalion hastily ran to the surface.

“Do your business” MadPanda told the fuming paladin, “We will meet you above, and then this journey ends. This has gone too far, Belendor.” and then began his climb up from the two warriors.

“Fine” hissed Belendor, “I'll do it myself!” he then turned back to the Angel.

“How far you've come.” she calmly said to him.

“This won't go like last time!” protested Belendor, “I'll show you my true power!”

Smiling to herself, Dymond started to spin the golden swords around. She closed her eyes and sang a hymn to herself softly, her comforting Angel language echoing through the decaying graveyard. Through her serenity, Belendor jumped at her. His sword cutting through the air swinging violently at her.

Her smile extending a bit further, she raised one sword elegantly into position. The two relics of Angel and Demonic power clanged as they resonated against each other. Belendor's rampart vigour vibrating onto Dymond's solitude sent shock waves around the caverns, drowning out her harmonic tune.

Slamming his shield forward caused her then to leap backwards. Chasing after, Belendor engaged her again. The two sparring through the remains of the Exodar as the ceiling crumbled above. His attacks coming fast with power in every blow, his anger behind every hit. Meanwhile, the peaceful Angel simply blocked and ducked from each attack, aggravating him even more. Eventually, her wings knocked against the stone wall.

“Nowhere left to run!” he shouted, his mouth on the verge of foaming with rage.

“Oh.” she quietly looked at him, “I am not the one running, Belendor. I am not the one running at all.”

In an instant her wings slammed him backwards. Scraping down the blood covered floor he knelt down to gather himself. As he looked up her knee slammed into his head, forcing his body to fly further more. His hands shook as they clutched the ground. This power, he thought to himself, what was it? Why had he not seen it before.

Searching for answers, his eyes locked on the purple gems of the Exodar. They pulsated vividly now, giving a spiritual pink mist. His eyes darted up, she was stood towering over him. The same glow seemed to be around her. Reaching for his shield he went to attack once more but she simply kicked it from his grasp.

“No more shields, Belendor. No more hiding.” she told him, her lullaby song now ceased.

Desperately the Paladin got to his feet. Turning from this power he ran towards the exit. Not looking back he forgot all notion of anger, only taken by panic. Was she holding back before? How powerful were these Angels? As he plunged deeper into his thoughts and reached the exit of the chamber, she blinked in front of him.

“That's all you do, Belendor. Run. Run away from who you are. Run away from Orgrimmar. Your family. Your people. The chapel.”

His heart racing, he clutched the demonic sword. With one swing he aimed for her chest to end this nightmare encounter. Dymond simply stared back, her eyes piercing his own looking right through him. His wrist began to burn, he felt it squeezed firmly and let out a large scream.

Looking to his own wrist, he saw her grip extended over it. Holding his sword bearing hand hostage, she simply stared at him. Slowly he opened his fist. Unable to clench any longer upon his arm he relinquished control.

Just then she jumped back. He let out a great shout of relief as the pain subsided. Drifting into the air, the Angel ascended high towards the crumbling roof. A golden light dimmed his view slightly as he looked up at her. Suddenly she threw the two gleaming swords down into the stone stairs below, cracking the surface as they slammed down. Seconds later, as the paladin watched on, she too dropped dramatically down causing the ground to shake.

“Show me then. Belendor. Show me who you are.” spoke Dymond with a deeper tone, her long hair dropped behind her shoulders as she stood in front.

Fear still ruling his body, the corrupted paladin glanced down to his sword. Still within his grip, he looked back up to her. Her arms were open wide as he strolled over to her, the black blade longing for blood.

With one thrust, he plunged it into her, his panting masking the sound of flesh and steel as the sword cleaning cut her life. Her stare remained cold as she looked straight into him, the blade resting inside her as he reflected back.

“She still haunts you, doesn't she?” whispered the dying Angel, “I see it. Yes...She haunts your dreams. Your visions I see them Belendor...”

With her last words, Dymond's eyes rolled up her wings became motionless. Her feathers pointed down and the heavenly glow around her faded. He simply stared into her white eyes as she fell to his blade.

Retracting it slowly, the memories of Kapernkiss crept into his mind. He felt cold as the Angel dropped to the ground, his view becoming a haze as if a fog descended upon him. Dropping to his knees the paladin felt weak, the deadly blade dropped to the floor, bouncing as it clanged. Placing his hands in front of them, he saw them blurred, beyond them a figure. Dressed in robes, a female priest seemed to walk towards him. As she came close his eyelids felt heavy and he fell forward, hearing only the cries of MadPanda calling his name in the distance.
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Re: A story of TW

#412 » Post by Ragnorak » 27 Feb 2016 07:44

Finally caught back up with the story. Shit's fucking going down and it love it :>
Lok'tar ogar! Victory or death - it is these words that bind me to the Horde. For they are the most sacred and fundamental of truths to any warrior of the Horde.

I give my flesh and blood freely to the Warchief. I am the instrument of my Warchief's desire. I am a weapon of my Warchief's command.

From this moment until the end of days I live and die - FOR THE HORDE!

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Re: A story of TW

#413 » Post by Wilcox » 27 Feb 2016 12:10

Ragnorak wrote:Finally caught back up with the story. Shit's fucking going down and it love it :>

just wait until the story is rewritten, im going to rip you apart

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Re: A story of TW

#414 » Post by Ragnorak » 27 Feb 2016 23:00

That's cute, seeing how you were killed off before chapter 10 :P
Lok'tar ogar! Victory or death - it is these words that bind me to the Horde. For they are the most sacred and fundamental of truths to any warrior of the Horde.

I give my flesh and blood freely to the Warchief. I am the instrument of my Warchief's desire. I am a weapon of my Warchief's command.

From this moment until the end of days I live and die - FOR THE HORDE!

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Re: A story of TW

#415 » Post by Wilcox » 27 Feb 2016 23:33

(spoiler alert) ned stark was killed off before season 1 ended, does that make him bad? na

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Re: A story of TW

#416 » Post by Bluebell » 13 Mar 2016 20:53

Rewrote some of the early bits now in my master copy. But decided to return to the main story. Some new characters! Finally found a way to put druids in, albeit not in the same capacity

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Chapter 35 - The awakening

Wandering through the plains of Orgrimmar's county, the trio of paladins crept towards Ashenvale. After fleeing the Exodar, Teraan convinced his Stormwind counterpart to stow away on a cargo ship to the small port of Ratchet. There plan was to retreat to the rebel camp within the forests, and from there prepare a counter attack. Although relieved to see themselves not followed, their alerts were high as they continued deep into hostile territory with the still unconscious Bluebell.

Approaching the boarder of the Barren lands to Ashenvale, their bodies were weak from days of travelling. Orgrimmar patrols were still regular, meaning they had to keep their heads down and take longer routes through the countryside rather than the quicker roads. Within these off the beaten track methods, they noticed a lonely tavern which may provide shelter for the coming nights.

“There.” pointed Merkava, “Let us sleep for once on a bed, away from the elements.”

Teraan looked over to the inn, a small brown fence traced around it while candle sat inside illuminating the narrow windows. Its thatched roof and stone work seemed stark in comparison to the architecture of most of the Eastern continent buildings and cities.

“I do not like this” replied the Orgrimmar paladin uncomfortably, “It is still too close to the main city. The patrols will look for her, we can easily walk a bit further to find an enclosed area to rest.”

“No.” protested Merkava, “I refused to use stupid leaves as a cover any longer. I am a Justicar from Stormwind, not some lowly Orgrimmar peasant. We still have some currency, just keep your head down and we shall be fine.”

Hesitantly, Teraan complied. Together they strolled towards the shelter carrying the bloodline with them. Opening the little gate, the two paladins continued into the Inn.

“I'll do the talking” smirked Merkava pushing past and through into the door.

Teraan thought to himself that the Stormwind knight's accent would plant them in trouble, his vernacular would not match the surrounding area and give their origins away. Sighing to himself, part of the Paladin wanted to watch the confident one fail, yet he went to follow him to ensure it went smoothly. Just then, he saw on a clipboard a tarnished poster with the words “WANTED” strung across it. Three portraits were placed upon it, with a lot of 0s after the reward. Approaching it, Teraan went to inspect closer to see this point of interest.

Suddenly his attention was drawn, “Teraan! Hurry up and get in here. The prices are absurd!”

Rolling his eyes, Teraan turned back and entered the Inn. Surprisingly it was packed with patrons. Scanning the area, he saw what appeared to be standard riff raff to be found in the outer taverns, yet one corner seemed infested with soldiers bearing the moon crest of Silvermoon.. So far from their homes, Teraan became increasingly weary causing him to hold his sword closely. None seemed to take notice of the two paladins to his relief. All but one seemed to ignore them, one girl in brown leather watched them intently whilst sipping her drink, her cold eyes followed Teraan as he carefully stepped through the Inn. The paladin matched her gaze momentarily, before thinking nothing of it and walked to join Merkava.


“Ahhhhhhhh!” screamed Belendor, his body throbbing in pain as his mind exploded with agony.

“He's going off again!” shouted MadPanda, “Carcinius! Come at once! Lord Belendor needs you!”

Straining his eyes, the Paladin forced them open. Looking down he saw his body constrained by leather straps, clinging up to a bed. Flexing his muscles he attempted to escape the bindings, only for his attempts to be rendered useless. Through his efforts, a figure dashed into the room, barging the flimsy wooden door out of the way.

Desperately the newcomer tried to find something in their bag. Belendor looked at them with contempt, they were dressed in long brown robes. What appeared to be plants cluttered the shoulders while various twigs stemmed from the fabric itself. Gritting his teeth, the paladin winced in pain as the figure seemed to jab something into his arm.

Overloaded with the torturous discomfort, Belendor lashed out at the Carcinius causing the straps to buckle under the pressure. The figure retracted promptly after being struck and let out a brief shriek.

“Who are you!” snarled Belendor attempting to get back up, “Where am I! What are you doing! Answer me!”

“I..I'm a druid, sir.” murmured Carcinius back, “I have been instructed to take care of you, to try and help you with what ails you”

“I am fine!” he demanded, “Get me out of here at once! Where is she? Where are they?”

Belendor's eyes darted around the room. His head was still spinning as the whole world seemed to wave in motion. Every movement brought new spots of main as he struggled to get back up. Just then, a second, larger individual entered the room.

“Wait! Wait! You can't go in there” protested MadPanda, rushing in after the second.

Before he could react, the Paladin felt the presence of a hand forcing him down. He felt powerless as he was eased back down on to his bed.

“We are here to help you.” said a soothing voice, its wielder holding a wooden staff.

“Who are you?” hissed Belendor.

“Quiet. You must rest. I am Ubal, the clerical leader of the druids.” he said.

Inspecting him, he saw Ubal wore similar clothing to Carcinius. Green and brown leaves were scattered around his long robes while small twigs pushed out. His heavy hands pressed down upon Belendor, keeping him still and steadying his breathing.

“When will you release me?” he asked.

“When you are ready.” replied Ubal calmly, “Your friend MadPanda called for us. He said you would not agree, luckily for us you had no choice in such a matter.”

Belendor scowled at the remark. Realising he was unable to move, he simply stared upwards at the ceiling rather than give the druid attention.

“He is not my friend. Simply an office in my grand army.”

“As you wish. Mr Lord Belendor” mocked Ubal, “Our medicine is working within your body. You have toxins I have not seen in a lifetime of work.”

Annoyingly, the druid seemed to peer into Belendor's eyes, interrupting his vision. Frowning as the face appeared over his own, he let out a great sigh.

“It is power within me, power you cannot begin to understand, druid.”

“Yes, I am sure I cannot understand why you would want such hostile bodies within your own.” snapped Ubal, before retracting back, “Your eyes are bloodshot, a strain caused by lack of sleep and a build up of stress. Your body pulsates from foreign contamination while your muscles pulsate in dire need of relaxation.”

“You know nothing” hissed Belendor, his body still unresponsive to his attempts to move.

Ignoring his slander, the cleric continued, “You may recover within three days, my followers will aid you. And you may speak with your friend MadPanda for now, until the nightmares return.”

Releasing his grip, Ubal then stood up and turned towards the door. Belendor let out a great sigh of relief as his chest filled with air and his body became relaxed.

“He is not my friend damn it! And how do you know of my nightmares? They are nothing but figments of a former life! Three days! I have places to be and an empire to run you tree loving conman!”

Ubal's walking stick, carved from twisting branches tapped along the wooden floor. As Belendor's insults sank in he reached the door and placed his hand along the frame.

“Your visions are a path you may take or turn from. Your journey is long and painful, for us all and not just yourself. I have seen that in the tea leaves. But that is not my place to take, your destiny is in your hands, for now, Belendor. I pray you keep it that way. What is my place is that if you dare touch my helpers once more, I shall show you the nightmares a tree lover can bestow. Good day.”

With the final quip, the clerical leader slammed the door shut behind him. The room was silent as the gentle tapping of his stick was heard echoing down the hallway outside. Nervously MadPanda approached the frustrated Belendor, while Carcinius began treating his wounds.

“Are you ok? Does it hurt?” asked the officer.

“Why have you done this? I told you not to call these freaks.”

The treating druid raised his eyebrow and pressed down on Belendor's leg, causing him to brace from pain.

“Sorry” apologised Carcinius, with a slight grin.

“You were knocked out. I didn't know what to do. All trace of them lost, and your dreams seemed to return.”

“I killed her. The Angel, I beat her, did you not see my power?”

MadPanda nodded, “I saw what it did to you, Belendor.”

“You're a fool” he shouted, as his fist became clenched, “We should be out there finding the Paladin scum. They could be anywhere by now, with the bloodline bitch.”
“Please, you must be calm” warned Carcinius.

Glaring down at him Belendor snarled “Do not tell me what to do,witch doctor.”

“It is under control, sir” reassured MadPanda, “I have issued arrests for them. All over the continents our men are searching for the three. I have requested every city and village across the land to put up posters with a hefty price to pay for their capture. And in a few days we can start again. Fresh, while they are weak.”

Belendor sighed. His body ached and his power seemed weak. He longed to be away, fulfilling his dreams, let his nightmares seemed to constrict him. MadPanda bowed and took his leave, while the attending druid placed various remedies throughout the paladin's body, each one an insult to his beliefs and pride.


Sitting down by a booth, the two paladins rested Bluebell between them and placed their drinks upon the table. Her armour was old, with patterns of green streaming around it, and the crest of TW embroiled on the chest. She had long red hair down to her shoulders like a roaring fire while her back was covered by a black cloak, similar green and blue textures were woven in.

“So what now?” asked Merkava, tapping his fingers impatiently on the furniture.

“We can rest, and then head towards my base in Ashenvale, Coo and Cherno shall be waiting there for us.”

“Right. Because we are sure they are still there. For all we know Orgrimmar has found and stormed the camp by now.”

“I have full faith they have remained in the shadows and held their own. Staying here was your idea anyway!” interrupted Teraan.

Merkava simply continued, “Perhaps they even moved, or gave up. Maybe they just surrendered and joined Orgrimmar and Thunderbluff, we could be walking into a trap.”

“You mean gave up like your beloved leader Rohan? And the great armies of Ironforge and Stormwind?” sparked the angered Orgrimmar Paladin, gritting his teeth and gripping his drink tightly.

Smiling slightly, his counterpart responded “I was thinking more like your friend Belendor. The one you chose to lead the holy sect of the city. You know the guy I mean, the one who has hunted us for weeks, killed hundreds of my brethren and even slain an Angel.”

“I think you should watch your tongue. Belendor was a friend once, now consumed. But we have all seen-”

“Or just the city's people itself. I mean, your whole council pretty much turned on the world did they not. Come to think of it, I'm astonished you've made it this far. Bravo on that, Teraan of Orgrimmar” Merkava continued sarcastically.

“Ok you know what. You smart ass Stormwind goodie too shoes. After we're done. After I've completed this mission, I am going to teach you some manners.”

“Right, after you complete the mission. I'll remember that next time you get knocked flying thirty metres through the air by a girl.” grinned the Stormwind paladin, sipping his drink.

Teraan shook with anger. His hands hovered over his blade, only causing Merkava's smile to grow bigger as his taunts began to pierce. Before he could respond, the one between them let out a great sigh.

“How many years have I been out?” asked Blubell.

They both gasped at her question. She was finally awake, causing them to jump slightly in their seats and cease their friction.

“I wasn't aware that was a number.” she said, her eyes opening to reveal glowing green.

“One thousand years, my lady” Merkava told her.

“One thousand years?” she repeated, “One thousand years and men are still the same. Such egos, such arguments.”

“Are you ok?” asked Teraan “Did you just wake?”

“Oh” she smiled, “I have been awake, listening to you two twitter on at each other like idiots for some time now. But no, thanks, I did not want a drink.”

The two paladins looked at each other before accusing themselves bye pointing. While Teraan blamed Merkava for the lack of drink, the alliance Paladin returned the favour.

“So.” she interrupted them, sitting up and placing her hands on the table, “What is going on, boys? The plan? The good? The bad?”

Again looking at one another, Merkava then nodded towards Teraan giving him allowance to speak.

“Well, my lady. It is pretty dire. The city of Stormwind has been taken by Orgrimmar. While Orgrimmar itself and the surrounding cities are in an alliance with some foreign entity under the name of Gorecleave. The Angels seem in confusion, we just learnt that the great Arch Angel Intervention seemed at odds against us.”

“Of course he is” remarked Bluebell causing them once more to provide shocked looks.

“What do you mean? You knew?” asked Merkava, “You were awake even then? At the shrine of Exodar?”

Bluebell rolled her eyes, “We knew he was behind their actions, even during the great war. We were simply powerless to react. Peithne informed us of his malevolent actions and schemes, I fear he paid his life for sharing. We passed this down in the great library of Stormwind, there it was noted for generations to know and discover the true intentions so we may never fall to this darkness. I suppose, you never read it?”

“The great library...It burnt down. We never knew the cause, a freak accident, a great light was seen the reports record, and then it became a blaze instantly.”

“Oh, yes.” she remarked, “And I wonder who did that.”

“In fact, it was shortly after that when Crescendo fled the chapel...”

“Sorry, who?” asked the bloodline.

“Your descendant. The last remaining of your lineage” Teraan told her.

“Ah. She sounds smart.”she smirked.

Just then, a knight across the tavern rose from his seat and approached the group. He wore heavy armour, a white crescent emblem carried along his chest showing the symbol of Silvermoon. His blonde hair was short, and spiked up while his longsword hung from his belt.

“I couldn't help but hear” he said to them, placing his hand on the edge of the table, “Your talk of bloodlines, and times long gone by?”

The trio looked up at him. Gently his hand glided across the table wiping dust off it, slowly going from one side to the other. A white glove over his hand became blacker the further along he went.

“We want no trouble.” Teraan told him, “Simply three friends, sharing fairy tales, good sir.”

The knight stopped his hand half way down the table. A wicked smirk crept across his face and a short laugh jolted from him while he stood there momentarily motionless. Snapping his hands back to his sides and standing up straight, he then looked down at them.

“My dear Teraan” he told them, causing the Paladin's eyes to narrow, “My name is Datz, and do not take me for some common fool. I know exactly what fairy tales you speak of.”

His hands hovered over his hilt, Merkava then chipped in, “Let us have our drinks, and be on our way, Sir Datz.”

“Ah ah.” replied the knight, his finger waving side to side in a no expression, “You are going nowhere.”

While the two male paladins became weary and began to fidget in their seats Bluebell kept her composure. Staring intently with her emerald eyes towards Datz, watching him closely.

“I know who you are. Teraan the traitor of Orgrimmar. Merkava the fugitive of Stormwind and you.” he pointed at Bluebell, who simply raised her eyebrow in response, “On the orders of Marick of Silvermoon, I am placing you under arrest.”

“Marick? Or do you mean Belendor's lacky?” snapped Teraan, “Where is he anyway? Not able to keep up and gets other traitors to do his dirty work?”

“Now now, little paladin. Play nice. Come peacefully and I may allow them to spare your head. Then again, that may not shut you up.”

The two Paladins stood up and drew their swords. Bluebell remained in her seat while they stood with the table between them and Datz,

Immediately the group of Silvermoon soldiers from the corner unsheathed their swords. The sound of slicing steel resonated through the air. Within moments the inn had become deadly silent, around a dozen soldiers now stood with their blades pointing at Merkava and Teraan. They formed a crescent shape with Datz in the centre smiling.

After a brief moment he drew his own long sword, “Paladins!” he yelled, “Lower your weapons!”

The whole room watched nervously. No one dared even breathe as the tense moment gripped the air. The soldiers firmly held their swords preparing against the two paladins. Teraan and Merkava stood opposite defiantly unflinching in their stances. Meanwhile Bluebell picked up one of their drinks and took a sip, her eyes fixated on Datz watching the events unfold.

“Men of Silvermoon!” shouted Teraan, his sword rising slightly, “Come and make us!”
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Re: A story of TW

#417 » Post by devil5000 » 15 Mar 2016 05:33

Finally caught up on the story. Amazing writing and I like the way you are going with it. Keep up with the good work :D
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Re: A story of TW

#418 » Post by kayliee » 18 Mar 2016 14:44

Ohhhh I got to stare creepily at teraan. >=D I now shall catch up the lastbit to where I appear!! Soot!
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Re: A story of TW

#419 » Post by Bluebell » 29 Mar 2016 15:55

Or did you?

People in this chapter:


Chapter 36 - Outlaw
“Sir if you would just...” murmured Economist in the centre of the Stormwind keep.

In response, Ragnorak screamed intensely. The advisor closed his eyes as another piece of furniture was flung across the room. Before the clatter could even end, another instruct of fury flew towards a wall. Smashing through anything in his path, the enraged King unrelenting in his assault. Onlookers of guards and advisers simply watched his anger unfold, Economist looked up and bit his lip, whining at every noise filling the background.

“How!” he bellowed, “How did this happen?!”

“If you would just calm..” once more Economist was interrupted by sounds of destruction littering the air.

“I will not be calm!” he pulsated, “I hate you all! How did this happen! We had them!”

“Please, Lord Ragnorak. Cool your temper and let us talk.”

“Cool my temper?!” he retorted, his face bulging red as veins sprung across his forehead, “There are uprisings all across the city! My men lay dead on the streets of this wretched hell hole while the leaders of two armies now frolic into the sunset! And you ask me to cool my temper!”

Economist closed his eyes once again as the war chief returned to his rampage. More objects launched into each other as he tore the room apart. Opening his eyes and looking down the hallway, the advisor noticed a messenger heading up. While his leader continued his assault on the inanimate, Economist accepted the parcel and unravelled it. His eyes scanned down the parchment before inspecting what appeared to be the prints for a poster.

“What is it?” snatched Ragnorak, much to Economist's surprise.

As the leader looked over the poster, Economist explained, “A letter from Belendor, sir. It appears he was unsuccessful in his chase.”

Ragnorak let out a brief laugh, his eyes then momentarily looked up to Economist, hinting to continue.”

Coughing slightly, he continued, “It seems that the Paladins were able to summon something, or someone. He wishes for us to put the posters of the fugitives around the city, and the lands of Stormwind in case we can catch them.”

“I don't care.”


“I don't care about Belendor's little schemes and plans. I don't care about catching any of his pathetic fugitives! I just want my city back!”

Without indication, Ragnorak began to walk down the hallway. Numerous guards around the room took position and walked after him.

“One of the posters depicts Teraan, sir.”

Ragnorak paused for a moment. Looking down to the ground his mind went into motion.

“Teraan? He lives?” he then let out another laugh, “Belendor would not be smart enough to catch Teraan, I knew that!”

He then began to walk again towards the exit, “The others, sir” shouted down Economist, “A Paladin from Stormwind named Merkava, and a female by the name of Bluebell.”

Once again Ragnorak stopped. The men behind him came to an abrupt halt half way down the pathway of the keep. No one dared speak as he stood there for a few seconds, contemplating the names.

“Sir, do those names mean something to you? Would you like me to put posters up?”

“Bluebell?” he asked.

“Yes, that is what Belendor wrote.” replied Economist, “Would you like me to put her picture up around the city? What does that name mean?”

“It means. It means we may be on the wrong side after all.” he took a deep breath and looked up to the exit, “Search for those damn rebels. Find them and destroy them. Every house and every building. I am going for a walk. Find them.”

The sound of clanging metal filled the hallways as the patrol left. The posters fluttered to the ground, carrying the faces of the trio while Ragnorak took to the streets of Stormwind.


The adversaries stood opposite each other. Datz looked on smugly, his grin etching up his face. Teraan's eyes darted over each soldier, every one pointing their swords at the trio. Adjusting his grip on the hilt, he readied for the first one to come his way.

“Why did you say that?” asked Merkava.

Teraan's eyes turned over to the Stormwind Palhadin, “What? It felt the right thing to do! And you didn't say anything!”

“I was thinking” responded Merkava aggressively, “But we could have tried something a bit less dangerous, something more civil.”

“Right, and I suppose you have a better idea right now?”

Examining them, Datz stood patiently waiting His eyebrow raised as the two argued, before Merkava finally broke the gaze, lowered his sword and looked at the Silvermoon commander.

“Sir, forgive my friend. His temper is short and is tongue quick. We are not the paladins you seek, you have made an error.”

Teraan's blade lowered in equal respect while his shocked eyes locked on his counterpart, “I'm sorry, what did you just say?”

Watching on with intrigue, Bluebell sat back in her booth. Datz simply smirked, his weapon still raised and aimed firmly on the trio.

“Do you take me for some sort of fool, Paladin? Your face is plastered all over the realm. The insignias you don are that of the holy order.”

“We are but humble travellers good sir. Simply stole these wears, we did. Paladins always had sturdy armours, so we thought they would serve us well. Please, we have come far, let me and my friends return to our drinks. Join us, if you will.”

Laughing manically while his troop stood ready to his rear, Datz shook his head. His smile lurking over his face at astonishment. Sharing his amazement, Teraan's eyes were wide open in shock glaring at Merkava.

“Have you lost your mind?!” he shouted, “Are you actually serious right now, that's your plan?”

“I am but a humble knight of Stormwind” he proceeded, “I seek not conflict that rattles my streets, but I am no Paladin. Just a knight, good sir.”

“My God you have lost if haven't you. I can't believe this nonsense that you're spewing! Have you heard yourself?”

“Be quiet you clown!” snapped Merkava.

““He is free to make his own choices, Teraan. Whether they be foolish or not, they are his to choose.” spoke Bluebell behind them, “Now, if you two have finished squabbling like little children you can provide unto me a weapon. For I do not see that our new acquaintance will hold back much longer.” her gaze then flickered to Datz as she smiled.

Lowering their weapons slightly, the two Paladins turned to her. The bloodline was not sat up right and looking between them. Before they could reply to her, Datz stepped forward behind them.

“Your trickery will not work here, Paladins. Your first mistake was entering my domain, your second was turning your back!”

He then prepared to strike at Teraan's back with his sword raised high into the air. To his rear, the Silvermoon soldiers enclosed on the small table.

“Wait!” screeched a female voice.

Pausing momentarily and giving time for the two Paladins to turn, Datz watched a girl in front of them. His sword still raised into the air, he looked down at her with contempt.

“Do you now know who this is?” she pleaded, and pointed at Bluebell.

Sighing and lowering his weapon, Datz replied “Little girl. I do not care, now move. We have military business to attend to.”

Bluebell's eyebrow raised and she smirked as she looked up to Datz. Two small daggers hung from the belt of the girl, they caught the Silvermoon commander's eye as she twisted around.

“She's Bluebell!” preached the girl, “The legendary warrior and Paladin! I've read all about her! Sir, you cannot arrest her! She is a leader of men, hero of the forgotten wars! She brought peace in the times of dark!”

“Kayliee!” shouted an old man, jogging in between the two groups and grabbing her, “Kayliee let us go, we have no place here.

His patience waning, Datz watched the older man run over. His vision then darted up to Teraan, who looked equally mystified by the situation. Upon seeing their eyes meet, the Paladin returned his focus and raised his sword, while one eye looked towards the ongoing distraction.

“Grandpa Biscuit! Don't you see! It's her! I told you! The one I read about it's her!” protested Kayliee.

“Yes, yes, come. Let's go. Sir, I am very sorry for this, she gets excited and reads her stories.” replied Biscuit, as he attempted to pull her away.

Nodding back, a beam of arrogance carried on Datz's face, while his gaze locked on the two Paladins. Patiently he waited for Biscuit to drag Kayliee away so he could return to his mission.

Suddenly, she broke free and sprinted back. Hitting Datz's armour on the chest multiple times she drew his attention, before ceasing and looking up towards his increasingly frustrated face. His emotions beginning to get the better of him as his eyes slowly lowered onto her.

“I said, stay out of my way!” demanded Datz bringing the palm of his hand up.

Kaiylee pleaded him some more, her own hands rising defensively, but his hand descended quickly towards her, striking her along the face. She retreated, her eyes sweltering in tears as Biscuit came to comfort her. Teraan gritted his teeth in anger and began to fight once more.

Wood scraping along cold stone erupted around the parlour as the drinkers took notice of the events. Within moments of his action, Datz felt the firm hand of a fist return the favour and send him tumbling to the ground. The Silvermoon soldiers promptly turned their attention to his attack. A hulking figure stood over the leader as he wiped blood from his lip. It dripped onto his white glove, spreading the oozing red throughout.

As Kayliee and Biscuit scuttled away, Datz arose to his feet. The Paladins simply looked on as a large warrior stood before them. Giant pauldrons and brown iron armour covered his body, while a heavy axe hung on his back.

Datz reached his feet and dusted down his armour. He smiled looking at the warrior before him, who simply grunted back. Men behind Datz nervously watched on at the dominating figure.

“Well what do we have here. Another to add to the skewer?” he confidently told the new foe.

“You hit Kayliee.” replied the warrior, “What man are you to strike a little girl?”

“Know your place, Outlaw!” demanded the commander, his composure briefly leaving him, his hand pointing towards the adversary, before clenching into a fist, “I know who you are, Arvit, a wanted man who has no place in society. Men!”

The soldiers then raised their swords and looked to Arvit, who merely grunted back. Nervously their hands shook at the tip of their swords, around them eyes locked onto the group. Suddenly the cohort seemed outnumbered as the patrons equally drew their swords.

“You're not in Silvermoon any more, Lord Datz. These be not the lands you can control, they belong to the people.”

“They belong to Orgrimmar, and the people of Orgrimmar, of whom I represent and hold a mandate from. Step out of my way, Outlaw!”

Arvit took a commanding step forward and grunted causing Datz to replicate and place his foot back, “Orgrimmar has no power here, Silvermoon scrub.

Accessing the situation, Datz cast his eyes around the room. Every booth was filled with fighters etching to go, now weapons primed. In front of him stood the two Paladins, and Arvit in between. Finally his eyes rested on the recovering Kayliee, who noticed and stuck her tongue out back. Looking back up to Teraan he smiled and put his sword back in his sheathe, the men behind him followed suit.

“It seems you have friends in places that you did not know, Paladins. Men! We take our leave.”

Promptly Datz turned and left the tavern, the soldiers quickly followed suit leaving behind them cheers and jeers from the locals. Their thundering footsteps stomped into the distance before their sound could be heard no longer. Teraan and Merkava stood perfectly still, gripping their swords.

“Kayliee, are you ok?” asked Arvit, kneeling down to see her.

As the girl smiled and nodded, Teraan lowered his sword. Bluebell watched on, the Orgrimmar Paladin's drink now in her hand. Meanwhile Merkava backed towards her, still clutching his sword.

“Thank you, Arvit, was it? I am Teraan, council member of the fallen Orgrimmar, leader of the rebellion and guard of Bluebell”.

Bluebell spit out a bit of the drink at the last line he mentioned, before looking towards Merkava sceptically. Teraan extended his hand to Arvit to aid the warrior up, but the Outlaw simply grunted and stood up of his own accord. Towering over the Paladin he looked down, causing Teraan to step back away slightly.

“I do not like Orgrimmar. And I do not like Paladins.” scoffed the overwhelming presence, “But it seems we share the same enemies. You are not in hostile hands here, but do not think we shall save you again.”

Arvit then took a drink from the bar counter, slammed it down, before asking for another. Looking around the room one last time, Merkava took to his seat sheathing his sword. Teraan soon followed, and Kayliee sought her moment to speak to the three Paladins.

“You are her aren't you!” she nagged.

“Please, little girl. We are tired, we have come a long way. Let us rest.” Merkava instructed her, causing a frown to appear as his palm raised up against her.

“Oh ignore Mr Grumpy!” mocked Teraan, his counterpart scowled in response, “Yes, it's true! Isn't that exciting! We're Paladins, wielders of the light, powerful warriors. And she's the one from legend!”

Kayliee's face lit up in excitement. She looked over to Biscuit who simply shrugged and gestured forward, allowing her to go on. Clapping her hands gleefully she continued.

“Do you see demons? I have seen one! Can you fight them? I think they are scary. Grandpa says they are from nightmares, but I think my nightmares are real. I remember when I saw them only in dreams, when we could go to the city. But now Grandpa says we can't. Can we go? Will you make it so we can go?”

Laughing with her Teraan's face matched her enthusiasm, “Oh Orgrimmar? You like it there? I too wish to return! But there are fearsome foes who have taken it, and that's why we have brought her here, to bring hope to the people! To show that there is still a chance for people like us! I've seen the shadows too. Black creatures in the night, scary aren't they! I had to fight my way through them just to get there. Roar! They shouted chasing us constantly.”

The girl listened intently to Teraan's story, smiling and wincing at the woven words.

“You're an embarrassment” Merkava told him, raising his drink only to find it depleted, his eyes narrowing at the empty cup.

Meanwhile, at the bar, Arvit hunched over at the bar, demanding more drinks from the obedient bartender. Bluebell kept one eye on him as the conversations thrived.
“Erm, sir.” asked Kayliee, looking to Merkava, “Why did you say you were not a Paladin? I thought you would be proud!”

“He was just doing it because he thought it would be clever” replied Teraan, “He thought that mean man would fall for it and leave us alo-”

“You are wrong.” interrupted Merkava, causing Teraan to recoil in shock, “I look to relinquish my title. And so should do you.”

Bluebell's attention was sapped from Arvit and drawn back to the discussion at hand. Struggling for words, Teraan simply opened his mouth and shook his head.

“To whom do we pray?” he continued, “All my life I have followed traditions and orders. Prayed to the almighty beings, the deities we call Angels. A life devoted to it. And where has it brought me?”

“We travelled so far” protested Teraan, while Kayliee looked on, her head zipping between the two, “We have done so much, Blackluster gave his life for our mission!”

“Yes. I have seen people die. The entire Paladin order wiped out without a moment's consideration by the armies of the people they sought to protect”, Kayliee gasped at his last utterances.

“They died so that we could save the rest. So that we could bring back the hope to the world. Do not tell me that on the tip of the turning tide, you would seek to lose what we seek to bring to the world? The word of hope?”

Merkava let out a brief sigh, “You have such twisting and weaving words, Teraan. But do you actually think about their meanings? The hope of what? You saw the Exodar. Dalaran is at war with itself. Angels fighting Angels, Gods bickering for thousands of years and using us as their play things. The very threat we face, that ravages our lands. From where does it herald? A abomination created by the Angels to keep us in check? So I ask you, to whom do we pray? For what do we pray for? And what hope do we have with one Paladin returning when so many are gone without even a whisper?”

“So that's it then.” replied Teraan, “You're no longer a Paladin. You no longer have hope. It was all for nothing.”

“Perhaps we can win. I will fulfil my duty, but I am no Paladin. My oaths are in tatters as are those that the Angels give to us. I ask you, then, to whom do you pray? Can one Paladin rally the world?”

“Outlaw.” she finally spoke, interrupting them.

The three then looked at her, “Outlaw?” asked Teraan.

“That's what they called him. An Outlaw. What does that mean?”

“Ooh, ooh! I know!” jumped Kayliee, putting her hand up, “Outlawz is a group of bandits. They roamed the lands outside Orgrimmar and Thunderbluff!”

“You mean Shadows of the Night?” asked Teraan, “We have our run ins with them, last I heard Arockalypse managed peace with their group, for now.”

“Nooo! Silly!” laughed Kayliee, “They are an older group! I read about them, they are not as loud as the Shadows!”

Bluebell's attention became drawn, “So. They are similar to an army?”

“Well...” replied Kayliee, “The stories say they are the most fearsome warriors in all of the land. And if you were to ever fight one, it would take at least ten men to fight!

Suddenly Bluebell shot up, “Outlaw!” she shouted across the inn, causing Arvit to stop at the door.

“I have no more business with you, Paladin.” he grunted back without turning to face her.

Standing upright, she then put one foot on the stool followed by the table. Merkava fell back slightly giving her space to walk over the surface. Elegantly she jumped down onto the ground, both feet landing on the tavern floor together, the whole room now watched her. Walking confidently to meet him she began to garner even the Outlaw's attention.

“Business? Oh, I know you have no business with me, Outlaw. I mean, why would you? I represent everything you stand against. Everything you choose to hate. But are we so different? I saw you, we all did. You watched those soldiers nearly maul me” she took a brief glance over to their booth, “Friends. You didn't even batter an eye. You let them prance around here with their shining armour and gleaming insignias. Not your business. Yet the moment.”

One finger raised up from her in right hand as she raised it. Still walking towards him every member of the inn now turned their chairs to watch her. Strolling through the centre all eyes locked on her. Arvit turned around, his eyes scanning the surroundings to see the peaked interest that they had created.

She continued, “The very moment they dared strike a little girl, someone from your neighbourhood? You came blazing in like an arrow. And do you know why that is, Outlaw?” her finger now pointing at Arvit, “It is because we are not different. We wear different armour, we fight under different banners and we drink different drinks. But we stand for justice. We stand for what we know is right, and we stand to protect those that need it. So that is why, Outlaw, we do not have business, no. But we do have a duty. A duty to protect those that need it, to rid our lands. Your lands of the vermin that infest it, in whatever form they may take.”

With the room still in silence, listening to her words Arvit responded, “What is that you suggest, Paladin?”

She smiled back, “I propose a simple pact between us. Take us to meet the great Outlawz. Together, perhaps we can change something, make this a better place, rather than just scare some Silvermoon thugs.”

He grunted back, but gave a slight bow of the head for compliance. Turning back around he continued out of the door, “Two days, come to the Wailing Caverns. There you may meet the tribal leaders at noon.” The juggernaut then proceeded to leave the building, leaving Bluebell at the door.

“What just happened?” asked Kayliee towards Teraan.

“I think” he replied and looked onto Merkava, “She just took up her mantle.”

Bluebell returned to their table and they ordered new drinks. As Teraan continued explaining their journey to the wide eyed Kayliee, a woman in the corner watched on to them. Sat out of the way, she had observed all the previous action and waited for the group to take their leave. As Teraan rose to his feet, she looked to him walking across the inn. His eyes met her cold stare over the cusps of her drink.

“What is it?” asked Merkava, heading towards the tavern's accommodation.

“Nothing” dismissed Teraan, “I suppose everyone has their questions, and we will have to get used to stares.”

Looking away from her he continued up to take his rest.
Why join the winning side if you can change the winner?

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Re: A story of TW

#420 » Post by kayliee » 30 Mar 2016 02:02

Haha I got slapped! RIP me! Arvit my protector! And lol grandpa bisc
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