channell-williams-blog

[channell-williams-blog]

Twilight Cultists ( Part 1 )

Riding the choppy waves as the ship sets sail towards Twilight Highlands, the soldiers and ship workers were sitting below deck enjoying a well needed lunch break. Sitting around a table, the six of them of held a drink in their hands while wearing dumbass smirks. "Blue!" Cried a man, before another called out him. "We already said  that one! Drink and talk, loser!" Everyone seemed well adjusted to the game, where a genre of something is picked, as in this case is colors; If one was already said they have to talk about.. Well whatever they wanted. This Topic, Williams picked up was 'Embarrassing tales'. 

Williams raised her drink and had a sip of her own, the poor bastard was an easy one to get drunk. It'll be worse once he is forced to wax the floors from his drunken stupor,  which the thought made her grin. Stretching out her arms, standing up while pushing her chair in. "Alright, all back to work in ten." Which each replied with a less than enthusiastic answer. Stepping out onto the deck, looking at the endless sea. She wished it was endless but at the same time she didn't. Taking up a handful of her long hair, noticing the gray that now dyed the sandy blonde color. Sighing, she had been turning gray as soon as she hit thirty-three. Flicking her hair back over her shoulder, staring out to sea once more.

After weeks of sailing the Alliance has finally arrived to the Twilight Highlands, with everyone awake, geared and in formation. Six men rushed to grab wooden plan plank for each row to depart. Work quickly begun with building the Highbank Stronghold. Everyone begun to set up tents, while placing out the supplies to build the walls. It would take a week before the other supplies turned up. The group of scouts sectioned off into two groups, twelve lead by Meecah Cliffsaw and Williams herself. 

Williams gathered her own group, splitting the twelve into twos sending them in each direction. "Remember three hour meet up time, be careful and come back if you have too. Resources, food and the enemies that inhabit the land." Williams and a new recruit a Dwarf named Bernard 'Chokehold' Kragbraid. She didn't care to know how he got his nick-name. "What do you know of this place?" Walking North-West through the wide green valley although in the distance there were clearly disturbances from the Cataclysm effect, well at least she assumed.

Williams held her hand out in front of the Dwarf, stopping him in place. "Stop." Scanning the surroundings, hearing the faintest sounds of screaming and cries of rage. "I 'ear it, this way lassy!" Bernard quickly took off towards the sound, although Williams only saw grassy hillsides up until they actually reached the village, which had houses buried underneath the grass. 'Clever', she thought to herself only to snap back to in action as black dragon came from the North. All sorts of magic were exploding into the sky while rage cries rang out. Williams ducked low, with Bernard following close behind. "Alright, fire the flare, I'll cover you until you have your weapons ready." Bernard nodded, understanding the situation. Williams rushed out, standing by Dwarf villagers who were defending others, launching arrows into the sky trying to fend the dragon off. 

Corpses of Dwarves and corpses of Black Wyrms and fire elementals ridded the village. A Dwarf Shaman, rang out a crackle of lightening striking down an elemental in a swift motion. "If ye all can! Get back! We have to retreat!" Bernard rushed towards the Shaman. "We can take back refugees." Speaking among themselves, while fighting the Shaman nodded, launching another lightening attack. "Alright! Fine, ye can have it ya' way." Shaman replied. "Bernard, yellow flare and start heading back if you can. Those who can fight, will try to defend it." Bernard rushed off and quickly made work of this. Williams launched an arrow at an Elemental's head, being knocked back before pulling itself back together. Williams swore under her breath only to knock back another arrow. 

The battle was hard and well fought, many of the Dwarves were wounded but luckily after the elementals were vanquished the Black Dragon started to retreat. Although the Village was now in shambles, the smell of fire and death hung in the air with an extremely bad taste in everyone’s mouths. Williams returned back from her high point. “What now?” Asking the Shaman who looked at his village with such sorrow. “Hah? Oh, lass.. Thanks for your help, what now? Well, suppose we need to fall back as well.” Williams nodded letting out a sigh as she kicked some of the dust from under her feet. “Well, let’s get heading back.” What was left of the Gryphon’s the dwarfs took to the sky and the rest followed behind Williams.

Williams fired a green flare into the sky, wondering where the hell her back up was. Continuing down the path, alert for any signs of danger her own group of Scouts came racing towards her, followed by Meecah’s group next. “We saw the flare, is all that survived?” Williams shook her head. “No, Bernard took a group of villagers up ahead of us. They must be.. an hour a head?” Estimating the time, she peered towards the sky then the shadows. “I’m not so sure.” Meecah nodded keeping a firm expression. “We saw another flare up at the Stronghold, they must have gotten back okay.” Meecah whistles loudly, for no real reason as everyone was within talking distance. “Alright! My men, weapons ready walk around the group and keep your eyes peeled.” Turning back to look at Williams. “I’ll keep the rear, you go on a head and lead the front.” Williams didn’t bother replying as she rushed off to the back. 

Reaching the Stronghold, everyone had been reunited, treated and offered to help with what they can. Williams lead the Shaman to the command station. “Alright, in here you’ll need to go over the details.” The Shaman growled under his breath, seeming rather defeated and much older now... Williams raised a brow at the Shaman. “I’m sure, it’s.. Diffic-.” Being cut off by the Dwarf as he held up a hand. “That’s alrigh’, Lass.. I’m Rugroud Snowgut.” Williams smirked. “Pleasure, I’m Williams Williams.” The looked at each other and laughed before bowing to each other, letting the Dwarf continue on while Williams went back down the stairs. 

[channell-williams-blog]

[channell-williams-blog]

Character Sheet | Stats ( D&D Stlye)

Character Name: Channell Williams Class: Survivalist Background: Scout Race: Human Alignment: Lawful Neautral Armor Class: 11 - Leather Initiative: +1 Speed: 30

Strength: 17 Dexterity: 18 + 2 Consitution: 16 Intelligence: 13 Wisdom: 15 + 1 Charisma: 13 

Luck: +2 Animal Handling: +1 Stealth: +1

Features & Traits: Easy Going - Channell is naturally friendly, other s feel comfortable around her although this trait makes it more difficult for her to be pushy or suspicious. Honest - Naturally straightforward and sincere. This quality helps you persuade people to your viewpoint. Easily Trusting - Channell can easily trusts others, easily manipulated; With that said once her trust is lost. It's truly lost. Fear of Snakes - No shakes. Allowed. No sir, no ma'am.

Personality: Kind. Sarcastic. Knows a good joke when she hears one. Tends to hide any burdens she bears. Ideals: There's a reason she's good at what she does, paying attention to the details. Bonds: Friends. Those who had perished before her eyes as she swears to avenge them. Flaws: Her damned curiosity gets to the best of her. Always ensuring other's safety before her own.

Equipment: Explorer’s Pack - Lock Pick Tools - Book of Matches - A Small Blue Bound Journal - Skinning Knife - A Mess Kit - Medical Kit ( Minor ) - Twenty Feet of Rope Long Bow / Quiver - 20 Arrows

Languages: Common Poor Draenei

[channell-williams-blog]

Handling the Nightmares

Channell felt it, felt it in her bones, her gut and most of all her mind. Jumping at every little noise, her eyes darting back and forth listening... Waiting for something, anything to attack her while she least expected it. Her skin covered in goose flesh as she reached towards her horse, Locke. Slowly mounting him from the Stormwind Stables, Channell rights herself looking at the early dawn of the sunrise. Pushing on, she made her way to Redridge. 

During the long ride between the forests, her minds always played tricks on her watching the shadows, knowing the dangers of bears, wolves and worst of all murlocs. Bandits, she knew she could handle and was actually worried for their safety; Not that she much anyways. Pulling her hood over her, face she knew it was about to rain, the thunderous clouds. The awful pain shooting through her bad knee. Idly rubbing it, while watching the road attempting to ignore the shadows and empty threats that veiled the night. 

It was nearly four in the afternoon, it had taken all day to reach the town due to weather and her simple paranoid mind. Her stomach growling, a mad need for a drink she continued on however. Placing Locke into the stables, taking off her hood. Letting the long locks of golden silver flow down her spine. Even though she is nearing her fifties she refused to cut her hair. 

Knocking heavily onto her friend’s door, there was a bark of a dog then a yell of a man. “Hold on! I’m coming!” Sounding rather bothered someone is stopping by at nearly dinner time. Opening the door, a large framed man, with a thick red beard with a not so matching crew cut blonde hair opened the door. “Who- Oh, Channell.” A smile brought onto his face. “Come in, come in! Dinner is just about done.” 

Channell managed a smile, forcing herself to be cheery. “Thanks! I am starved.” Speaking the truth, as she looked about. 

Heard from inside the kitchen along with a delicious aroma. “Channell’s here? Oh good!” Rushing out, a dirtied white apron wrapped around her her waist and neck. Karen, Channell’s friend for over a decade was once a scout in the Stormwind Military, short, lean and with gorgeous raven black hair pulled back into a messy bun. A bit of flour covered her left cheek.  “You’re just in time for dinner! Please sit down!” 

Channell smirked, wiping the flour off with her gloved hand. “Sure thing, that’s what Jacob just said.” Moving into the dinning room, she knew the out lay of the house well. “Where is Levi?” Looking about for their six year old son.  

“Ah, he is over at Marie and Eddie’s house, with his little friend.” Placing dinner onto the table, a fully cooked chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and okra a Westfall’s special.

“Good, good..” Looking up at Karen, with an expression Karen was all to familiar with. Noticing, Channell’s bags under her eyes, her lack luster hair, and just simply worn and torn to pieces. Karen reached out petting her hand. “You’re more than welcome to stay here, you know it.”

The aging woman smirked. “Thanks, I owe you.” Digging into dinner after that conversation, spending some time afterwards talking and catching up on their lives. It had relaxed Channell greatly, however she continued to shudder throughout the night.  Karen and her husband, Jacob knows of Channell’s PTSD ever since after the Scourge War. And as offered their home as a safe house, a sanctuary. The basement, consisted of a bed, a nightstand and other common house hold items. Mostly for Channell’s personal use and probably Jacob’s dog house whenever he was in trouble with Karen. Looking around the room, Channell kicked off her boots throwing her bag next to the end bed post. Noticing, that the place had been recently cleaned, and a vase of fresh trimmed flowers had been settled onto the nightstand. ‘What a sweetheart.’. Karen held some sort of odd sixth sense, her keen skills with a person’s emotions and simply guessing were almost horrifying. 

Stripping off down into her linen shorts and a white cotton shirt, Channell jumped into bed. Feeling herself shiver under her own mental instability was sickening; As if her dinner could come up, although insured that it would remain in her stomach. Looking around the room, feeling faint once again. Wrapping herself around in her blanket, she closed her eyes. Forcing herself to see blackness rather than what visions of her past has haunted her. 

Falling into a sleepless dream, Channell recalls the battle of Ice Crown. The final step to rid the world of Arthas, once and for all. Rushing into the valley of ice, full of undead, Alliance and Horde. Channell had her own platoon. Keeping back and assisting those on the front line with their arrows, traps and patch-job medical assistance. 

The battle was immense, quickly each side gaining some ground over another. Blood and death filled the icy skies. Countless of arrows tearing through the sky by her own team, while the shouts of battle cries and swords rang throughout the armies. 

Hours upon hours, it felt like days before they had a rest. Her eyes turning hopeful towards the Icecrown Citadel waiting, for something for anything! When another cry roared out, Channell’s head snapped into attention lining her shot with a Bone Goblin reached into the air slashing down on a man she knew very well. Oliver. The world seemed to stop, moving in slow motion as she watched Oliver, her lover, her once lover now be torn into two from literal viscera and bones. The torso face first onto the ground, his lower half falling backwards. Her heart thumping, roaring inside of her. Channell heard a scream, she wasn’t sure if it was hers or everyone’s together. Racing down the beaten path, as the Bone Goblin went to face another member of the Allaince. She reached down, grabbing Oliver’s mace before being snatched up by a Gargoyle and being thrown into the hungry maw of the Scourge.

Waking up screaming in terror,  Channell tossed the blankets from under her. Rushing up and around the room, holding onto anything grabbing onto herself checking every inch of her body. Feeling the familiar burn scar on her right leg. Dropping down onto her knees all the while laughing and crying all into her hands.