#Prophet Velen

[druidonity2]

For The Alliance.

[arbaughart]

In the Light, we are One.

[irishk0rn]

I made something

WoW angry/wtf faces

[azerothtravel]

They did him dirty in front of his dad, Exodar, September 2, 2016.

[vardensdawngrasp]

🤨

Alright good

[moonunwell]

Wrathion had spent the entire day yearning for this moment. Lately, their nights together were the only thing that could take his mind away from the horrors he'd been forced to research for the war against N’zoth. As he climbed up the wall to the king’s quarters, though, he could tell this visit wouldn’t be the reprieve he was hoping for.

Anduin waited for him on the balcony, rather than within his room. Looking especially pale under the moons’ light, the king sat on a chair, his forehead sweaty and his teeth clenched in pain as he applied a bag of ice to his swollen right knee. It took him a few moments to acknowledge his visitor.

“Wrathion. You’re later than usual.” He sounded nervous, as if he’d been caught doing something inappropriate.

“My apologies, I had an extremely busy day. And I’m guessing yours wasn’t too easy either.” Wrathion’s eyes went to Anduin’s shaky leg. There it was again – that vague sensation in his own knee, like borrowed pain. He tripped on his next words: “Are… are you –”

“It’s just pain. It’s not for you to worry about.”

An awkward silence followed. Wrathion fiddled with his left earring, desperately searching for a topic of discussion.

“I’ve never seen you use this balcony, come to think of it,” was all he could come up with.

Anduin cocked his head. “Funny story, one time Onyxia locked me here. She said I had to be put in penitence, though I don’t remember what for. She must’ve cast some sort of spell, too, because no one could hear me cry for help. Eventually I stopped trying. I was trapped here for hours.”

Wrathion blinked. “That’s not funny at all.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Let’s just go inside before someone spots you.”

He helped Anduin get up from the chair and through the balcony’s ornate doors. The human’s knee made an alarming creaking sound every time he moved it, and almost buckled multiple times on the short walk to the edge of the bed.

“I take it you’re having a flare-up,” Wrathion stated the obvious as he and Anduin sat down. “I apologize for the intrusion, but why not call upon your divine powers to make this easier on you?”

“It won’t work. Not when it’s the Light in my bones causing the pain.” He flinched as he changed positions, exhaling sharply through his teeth. “It’s started doing this whenever I do something bad. And…” He looked away. “And I just did something terrible.”

“Oh. I see.”

This was the part where he thought of some comforting words to say, or prepared for a prolonged debate on the ethics of the king’s latest executive decision. But, wait –

“Wait, no, that doesn’t make any sense.” He turned sharply to face Anduin. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but – *you* told me that *no one* can communicate with the Light itself. You said, and I quote, ‘it is a force so primordial it takes years of study and abnegation to even begin to comprehend it’. Not even Prophet Velen knows that much about it! So how come *you* can suddenly sense its judgment so directly? Have you become so powerful you can now… scrute the inscrutable?”

“That’s not a real word.”

“Answer my question.”

Anduin sighed and rubbed his face. “The Light is… a lot more complex than what fifteen year old me could tell you. Sometimes it manifests more directly in our world for reasons we don’t understand yet. It’s a subject of constant debate within the church. But… I don’t think it's too far-fetched. There are some ecclesiastical records of cases similar to mine. Moribunds who were saved by the Light and then claimed they could hear its voice through their healed body parts.”

Wrathion quirked an eyebrow. “What would that be called? A miracle? Is that what you believe yourself to be?”

“No – *I’m* not a miracle. But the way I was healed after the Bell incident was. So, maybe…” He was starting to get embarrassed. He laid face up on the bed. “I don’t know. It sounds so ridiculous now that I say it out loud. But… I just… I *know* what this feeling is. I can tell it’s the divine guiding me. What else could this pain mean?”

Wrathion hesitated before replying: “Not everything comes with a meaning. Maybe you’re just in pain.”

But he knew his words fell on deaf ears.

[jainaism]

credits??

"There is news— news from the Alliance. One of our information gatherers has learned something he insists you must know." Thrall disliked the term "spy," but he had spies nonetheless, as he was certain Jaina Proudmoore had her spies in his lands. It was to be expected, and was often worthwhile. Seldom had one of his gatherers insisted on seeing him like this. Something important must be happening indeed.

"Show him in, and leave us," he said. Eitrigg nodded and a moment later, a small, scrawny, nondescript human male was brought in. He looked exhausted, undernourished, and terrified.

Thrall rose to his full imposing height without thinking, then realized he might intimidate the human. "Will you take food or drink?" he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

The spy shook his head, then amended. "W-Water, if you please." in a voice that cracked. The Warchief himself poured a goblet and handed it to the man, who gulped thirstily, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"My thanks. Warchief." the spy said, sounding a bit calmer.

"Your news." Thrall said.

The man paled. Thrall sighed inwardly. He would never be so brutal—or so foolish—as to kill a messenger for bringing bad news. Such behavior merely resulted in no one's wanting to serve as messenger. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion.

"Do not fear. Your news, good or ill, is welcome if it aids me in protecting my people." he said.

The man looked slightly less distressed. He took a deep breath. "My lord," he said. He hesitated, then continued grimly, "The draenei have come to Azeroth."

Thrall was puzzled. He exchanged glances with Eitrigg, who shrugged. "Some draenei have been in Azcroth for years." he said. "They are nicknamed the lost ones. We know about them. This is not news, friend.

The man looked stricken. "You don't understand," he said, urgently. "Not those pathetic creatures— draenei! There—there was ship. From the skies. It crashed like an infernal stone two nights ago."

Thrall inhaled swiftly. No one had missed seeing that strange object in the night sky. looking like a star crashing to earth. So … it had not been a star, nor even an infernal. It had been a vessel….

The man was still talking. "Proudmoore has agreed to aid them. There is one among them—pale, noble, his presence commanding, though he is not physically strong. They call him Velen."

Thrall stared. The draenei? The Prophet Velen? Here? He sank slowly in his chair as the full significance struck him. The worst enemy the ores had ever known had come to Azcroth. Had been welcomed into the Alliance. How could there possibly be peace between Horde and Alliance now?

"Ancestors save us," Thrall whispered.

⸻ The Rise of the Horde, Christie Golden.

[tharayya]

prophet velen when his people are genocided for 595893th time

prophet velen when matis the cruel spits on him 1 (one) time

[best-warcraft-character]

Round 1

[sesshy380]

you said your wow oc's have their own stories, can you share them?

I did a count, and I am currently at 44 characters. For now I'll just tell the stories I have for the 4 on my Warband screen, which are Sesshy, Kanika, Phillaria, and Salarii.

Posting below the cut to avoid dash clutter

We'll start with Sesshy.

Sesshy is an Enhancement Shaman that really loves her storm spells and elemental spirit wolves (each time she summons them to fight they appear as different elements, but when summoned for the pic they both summoned as storm). She also loves to run around in her Spirit Wolf form.

She was born in Outland and loved animals. One day, she got too close to a clefthoof calf and was attacked by it's very angry mother. A large cat sprang out of nowhere and saved her. The cat shifted into a tree after to heal her wounds, then into a pointed-eared humanoid (which she soon learned was called a Kaldorei, or Night Elf).

Awed by the fact that one could turn into an animal, Sesshy decided she wanted to become a druid like the elf that saved her. She managed to discover that there was a druid encampment in Zangarmarsh, and travelled there so she could learn how to become a druid.

It was there that her dreams of being able to shapeshift into a cat or bear met it's end, as she discovered that becoming a druid wasn't something the Draenei race was capable of. There was some hope for her, however, as the head of the Cenarion Enclave mentioned that she might have better luck speaking to the Prophet Velen on Azeroth to help her find her true calling.

So off to Azeroth she went. She thought for sure the Prophet would be too busy to bother with something so trivial and meet with someone of no importance, but she was wrong. The Prohet directed her to Farseer Nobundo for a test. It was here that she discovered that she was able to commune with the elements.

After a lot of training, she was finally able to become an animal like she always dreamed, and was able to take on the form of a ghost wolf. She also learned how to summon spirit wolves to fight alongside her.

Sesshy is very devout the Alliance, and was even granted the title 'Crusader Sesshy' very early on during the war against the Lich King. She did some extra training as a healer during this time, and she actually enjoyed it, but the call of the storm always brought her back to what she enjoyed the most.

Next up is Kanika.

Kanika is a Beast Mastery Hunter that loves her spirit kitties. On the left is Shadow (ghost saber) and on the right is Ice (loque'nahak). Ice likes to run around in stealth so they appear ghost-like like Shadow.

Kanika was a survivor of the Exodar crash. She was on Azeroth before her cousin, Sesshy. Like Sesshy, she always had a love for animals. The first time she encountered a cat on Azeroth, she was smitten. There weren't any cats back in Nagrand where she'd originally come from, though she'd heard stories of animals matching their description being found in other parts of Outland.

She'd been training to be a hunter back in Nagrand, so it only made sense to continue that training. In Darkshore she came across an old elven ruin and found a small cat figurine. She picked it up with the intent to take it with her on her adventures, but it summoned forth a ghostly saber. She had no animal companion like most hunters, so she decided to see if she could make this ghost her animal companion. It took a lot of patience, but in the end, the ghostly saber decided to follow her and fight alongside her.

During the war against the Lich King, she heard rumor of a rare cat in Scholozar Basin, and with the aid of her partner at the time, Đom (another Draenei Beast Mastery Hunter like Kanika and my irl hubby), she found the beautiful spirit beast, Loque'nahak, who quickly became another companion that she renamed Ice (because of the icey blue glow coming from it's spots and mouth).

Kanika could care less about faction. Her devotion is to the spirit side of nature. She would do anything to protect it.

She was known as Ambassador Kanika for a while, as she'd gained the highest level of reptation available with all the different races of the Alliance, but she now carries the title Kanika, Veteran of the Fourth War. She fights for Azeroth as a whole, and cares little about the petty squabbling of the Horde and Alliance. To her, both sides have committed their own fair share of atrocities.

Now on to Phillaria.

Phillaria is an Arcane Mage.

Phillaria is fairly new to the conflicts of Azeroth. She spent her years as a scholor in the Outland city of Shattrath. After the leader of Burning Legion, Sargaras, plunged his sword into the world of Azeroth, she was compelled to take her years of arcane knowledge and the aid a world she knew only about from books and passing adventurers. Adventurers fought to protect what was left of her home from the Burning legion, it only felt right to offer what she could for aid in return.

Little did she know that she'd chosen a bad time to come. The factions of Azeroth had broken out into an all out war over the power the blood of Azeroth, Azerite, possessed. She was quite literally thrown into the fray of the Fourth War.

Phillaria only shows allegiance to the great mage city of Dalaran, and only because of how highly the mage, Khadgar' spoke of it during his time in Shattrath. He was the one who inspired Phillaria to become a scholor of the arcane.

Khadgar often spoke of the gifted mages there, including the Quel'dorei prince, Kael'thas Sunstrider. While Phillaria never got to meat Kael'thas personally during her time in Shattrath, she heard many stories of him and how he was a formidable mage. During the Fourth War, Phillaria struggled against many of her opponents, and it irked her. She wanted to be just as formidable as Kael'thas.

She hesitated in joining the fight in the Shadowlands, but it was there where she finally found her strength. She got to not only meet Kael'thas, but also aid him in his quest for redemption.

And lastly, Salarii.

Salarii is a Retribution Paladin.

Salarii is a Lightforged Draenei, meaning that she isn't like most Draenei. She is a member of the Army of the Light, and that her body has undergone the process of having her body infused with Holy Light by the Prime Naruu, X'era. (The Naruu are a race of beings made entirely of light)

After adventurers from Azeroth helped them fight off the Burning Legion on the planet Argus, she (along with many other lightforged) followed them back to their homeworld and aided them in the Fourth War.

Salarii is devout only to the Light, and greatly respects the paladins of the Alliance due to her teachings from Turalyn, who was one of the original founding members of the Knights of the Silver Hand on Azeroth. She strives to prove that she was worthy of having learned from someone of such high renown.

[nixalegos]

Has there been a chance to visit Argus?

"Lady Felscythe and I responded to the call for aid from the Draenei, and assisted in 'securing' the nearby wasteland at the onset of what we learned later, was a faction of Man'ari demons to beg before the Prophet Velen." He said with audible contempt. "Even the few hours spend aboard the Vindicaar were nostalgic, but unsettling. Instead of the varied and combined forces of Azeroth, it was almost entirely crewed by Lightforged and Draenei. It was, after all, their ship, and the Legions threat may yet be sundered in a way they'll never properly recover from, but I couldn't help but remember the sheer batteries of air to surface weapons and firepower the now unmatched vessel boasted...And how their few remaining targets include the Horde." "Argus itself was..well, still a wasteland. That the Lightforged maintained beacons to stabilize portal technology back to that broken world surprising, but then I suppose I would have done the same, and I do not boast over two hundred thousand years of tactical experience and foresight." "We have not been back since. Broken demon scrap, and pilfered Lightforged technology may be valuable, possibly even useful, but we had more pressing immediate matters since the Legions defeat." @tyleinth for mention Thank you anon!

[druidonity2]

I wonder what Velen is up to these days...

[arbaughart]

“Not all who wander are lost.”

[blueinsomnia]

didn't know world of warcraft was among your interests! anything you want to share about rayla's intro?

Heh, the two games I play the most are World of Warcraft and Warframe. Last year, I got the wild hair to bring a WoW character into my own fantasy world. I thought it would be interesting if that character was a shaman. At the time, I had never played a shaman, so I started my research by creating one named Raylah. Read a bunch of WoW lore and stories to get an idea of how the world of Azeroth is presented outside of the game.

It was fascinating stuff since Raylah is a draenei and they live for so long (even longer than elves). I started writing the story, but stopped maybe a fourth of the way through, because I realized that I needed a better hook for the story. It felt like a bit info-dump to me and I wasn't happy with that. It's in the process of being retooled so that it'll have a real plot and characters.

-----

Here's a little excerpt from my early draft ( I apologize for any spelling and grammar errors):

The taste of the fairly warm coffee going down brought me a quaint calmness, allowing me to relax my nerves. The dim light in the room added to a sharp, almost subtle ambiance, intended to draw out the flickering of the flames in the fireplace. I was no stranger to this kind of mood and appreciated Lyra going out of her way to make the place comfortable for me.

"Thanks for coming, Raylah," the petite old woman said as she flopped casually into her well-worn chair.

"Thanks for inviting me, Lyra. It's not every day I get to have such esteemed company," I responded with as much care as I could.

"No need for such pleasantries," she remarked with a half-smile. "You're a guest in my home and it's not often I get visitors from across the stars."

I laughed absentmindedly well aware of her acute understanding of my situation. "Oh, so you know others like me?"

With a hearty laugh, she folded her hands on her knee. "Not exactly, but your situation isn't as rare as you believe it to be. Not that it is all that common, either."

"You sound like the leader of my people with that double speak."

"A wise person, indeed," she said with a smirk.

I took a sip of my tea as a stark vision of Velen flashed before me, causing a small smile at how much he had changed over the years. Truthfully, they had all changed. Not always for the better, but looking at our universe with more clarity was never a bad thing. Velen was always a step ahead of the rest of us as he was a prophet and was granted the clarity of true-seeing. His understanding and selflessness helped us survive thousands of years with our wits intact.

[wyrmguardsecrets]

“There are 10 confirmed repentant manari.” Lol, and there’s like 10 void elves. There was what, 2-3 darkfallen kaldorei?

What about pandaren? Lorewise, if you’re a panda on the alliance you are guaranteed from the turtle and you’re part of the tushui. And yet most pandaren are mainlanders??? But the lore???

Another point of bullshit is this “not all members of alliance approved.” Because it was the kaldorei that protected the gilneans and brought them into the alliance. The alliance is an empire, if it wasn’t then it’d be impossible for there to be “alliance citizens”. Night elves should hate void as much as the sindorei do, but they didn’t get to veto the presence of void elves in the alliance.

Shit, wasn’t it literally CALIA who said the darkfallen elves could return? And now it’s a customization option. CALIA, who isn’t even a member of the alliance at that point. Who has absolutely no authority, was like “yeah you can go back now” and it’s perfectly fine. So if prophet velen says “these are my people now”, that’s about as consistently and legit as half of the other new races. I mean queldorei are like 1% of the original population and yet are one of the most popular races in sw, these are just realities of rping on wow

.

[sekhisadventures]

Druid Disappeared

Valdrakken, One Week After Malgum’s Introduction

It was definitely taking some getting used to for the Alliance and Horde to say the least. The Eredar had returned, not as enemies but as potential allies. Some were pragmatic about it, the orcs by and large sympathized with the man’ari renegades being tricked into fel corruption… after all, wasn’t that how they came to Azeroth to begin with?

For the Forsaken they were suspicious, but overall gave them the benefit of the doubt, again much for the same reasons. The Illidari as a whole kept a close eye on them, remembering all too well that until very recently they were their sworn enemies.

For much of the defenders of Azeroth however… the reaction was concern, wariness, and outright distrust. Some believed this to be a trick, others questioned if the aging Prophet of the Draenei had finally succumbed to senility, but whatever the reaction it changed little. With Velen’s endorsement, Arzaal and his followers were there to stay.

Like the Ebon Blade and the Illidari before them, they would be given the opportunity to prove they could rise beyond their dark origins… and should they not prove this, well, by now Azeroth knew how to deal with demonic foes.

That being said… some were handling it better than others.

Jaie awoke that morning in her room above the Roasted Ram and stood, yawning and stretching, then looked over to the bed where the other occupant had been staying. Valdrakken was so full anymore that space had gone from being plentiful to a severe premium, and the various adventurers were having to double up more often than not. Sometimes triple or even quadruple up… but as it had been for several days now the bed opposite her’s showed no signs of use.

Jaie sighed as she saw the empty bed, still in her bedclothes… then pulled her gemstone out of her bag and drew the rune for Shalandrae on it with her fingertip. It wasn’t her name, there wasn’t a specific rune for that, but rather Shalandrae’s rune was the rune for ‘great oak tree.’ Nelen and Nitika had worked together to decide on appropriate and easy to remember runes for everyone such as ‘Wise Elder’ (Dareley,) ‘Joyful Song’ (Sekhi,) and ‘Destructive Flame’ (Grimo.)

She waited for a long moment as the gemstone shined, trying to reach out to it’s twin in Shalandrae’s pouch… and after a good ten minutes she gave up and drew the rune for ‘sever’ to break the connection. “Nothing…” she sighed, sitting back down and shaking her head.

At the foot of her bed a head perked up. “Shalandrae ain’t answerin’ huh?” came a small voice.

In truth, the room had three occupants normally. Sekhi, being a vulpera, didn’t need a full sized bed. Rather she would sleep on a bedroll at the foot of Jaie’s bed most nights… though on more than one occasion she had wound up… well…

The first time Sekhi had explained that it was instinctive among vulpera to… huddle up when it came time to sleep. While it was blisteringly hot during the day, some nights in Vol’dun could be frigid enough to rival Northrend (albeit Northrend in springtime,) and the vulpera had adapted by sleeping in large groups to share body heat. On occasion Sekhi, half awake at night, would find herself instinctively seeking out the nearest warm spot to curl up in which, of course, would be the large bear-like woman nearby.

It had been awkward the first time, but now Jaie just accepted that sometimes her bed would have a surprise guest in the mornings and trusted Sekhi to behave herself there.

Jaie shook her head sadly at the vulpera, “She’s still not answering her gemstone.” replied the pandaren as Sekhi stretched, her tail extending and twitching behind her as she did.

“Yeah… I heard her song that day when we all met Malgum. She’s really angry, but really sad too. I think its lotsa things. I didn’t know what a ‘man’ari’ yippin’ was until a few days ago, but… yeah… I can get demons.” she whined, thinking back to their past encounters with Dissonantia.

Jaie nodded, “I just wish she would answer, just so we know she’s alright. I mean… we know her stone isn’t broken, but she could be anywhere now and the Isles aren’t safe to travel alone.” she frowned, the pandaren changing into her travelling clothes, then picking up her spear and sliding it into the holster on her back before walking out of the room to get breakfast.

Sekhi followed her out, scampering after her as she pulled her backpack on. Not a vulpera knapsack but a sturdy brown leather one made in Iskaara. “Yeah… we just gotta hope she’ll come back.” she yipped.

As they got downstairs to the common area they found Nelen already awake and seated at a table, talking with the draenei Aziguni, Malgum’s sister.

“Please Nelen… I feel horrible for what happened. I just…” she tried again, but the mage shook his head.

“Aziguni, I understand. We’re all worried about Shalandrae, but seeing one of the man’ari in the flesh was a terrible shock for her. Yes, you are right that because I was the one who made her stave that I could use my connection to it to scry her location… but I won’t do so unless we have reason to believe she’s in trouble.” he replied firmly, but not unkindly. “This isn’t the first time she’s had to run off like this. She’s a druid, she knows just how dangerous she can be if she gets too angry or upset. I heard what she did when she first saw your brother. A druid who loses control can do a LOT of damage, intentionally or not.”

Aziguni cringed at his words, knowing the mage was right, and yet she couldn’t help feeling guilty for what had happened. Her hope that her brother’s attempt at redemption might be accepted by Shalandrae and her friends was, perhaps, hoping too much for one of the kal’dorei to simply forgive and forget when it came to their ancient foes.

“Now…” he stood, picking up his own stave. “I must be going. I promised Sekhi’s sister I’d tutor her every third day, and that’s today. I can’t just shirk my duties to my apprentice.” he said, then his expression softened. “Don’t worry, I’ve known Shalandrae for years now. She’ll come back eventually, she just needs time to accept the state of things… and this is a big thing to accept.”

Aziguni nodded wordlessly, remaining seated as she looked down at the table, lost in her own thoughts.

Sekhi whined, her ears twitching as she heard Aziguni’s song… it spoke of guilt, of good intentions gone wrong, and of fear of losing something precious.

As Nelen walked out of the Inn he paused near the door. Leaning against the wall outside, idly chewing on a strip of jerky, was a young woman with blue and pink hair and strikingly pink eyes, dressed in a blue vest-top and a pair of baggy white trousers. “Laura, if you could keep an eye out for her… just incase…” he murmured.

The evoker nodded, “Yes, I believe I could do so Nelen.” she replied with a small grin as her sharp fang-like teeth tore into the strip of dried meat. Even in her visage form some draconic features remained, and one of those was that all her teeth were quite sharp.

Nelen smiled back and nodded to her, “Thanks.” he said in a soft tone, then he walked off towards the entrance to Valdrakken where Sekhi’s family had set up their small trading post.

Behind him Laura finished her snack, then stepped away from the building as crimson flames swirled about her form, her humanoid guise vanishing in a burst of magic, and with a flap of large wings Laurelgosa of the Dracthyr took to the skies once more, soaring off towards the Ohn’ahran Plains.

The other five members of Avalon, as well as most of Savage United (Grimo was, well, Grimo) were concerned for their friend, especially now that their foe Dissonantia was likely growing desperate. If she became aware that Shalandrae had left Valdrakken in such a state the Witch of Blackwald Forest may well decide to take the opportunity to strike down one of her most dangerous enemies.

He didn’t want to just immediately violate Shalandrae’s need for privacy and distance after what had happened, but he didn’t exactly want to leave her on her own either. He wouldn’t use magic… but Laurelgosa had wings and could cover a lot of ground. If she just happened to find the wayward druidess… well… Laurelgosa could hardly be blamed for informing her friends of Shalandrae’s current situation.

As he walked towards the cart he glanced to his right and frowned. Across the square were a trio of eredar… and one of them was none other than Malgum himself. He did sympathize somewhat with them after he heard their story. He knew how it felt to become a monster against one’s will, he was Gilnean after all, but he also remembered Argus, and how Krag’thar had died to save them from a Legion charge that likely included several eredar among it’s forces.

Forgiveness was likely never going to happen, at least not in his lifetime… even tolerance would take some doing… for now, for Aziguni’s sake at least…

The eredar saw him, then gave him a curt nod, and Nelen returned it in kind.

For now, just accept that this is the state of things… and what happened would happen. Nelen had an apprentice to worry about right now.

Time, however, can be a cruel thing on Azeroth…

Thaldraszus, on the path to the Bronze Oathstone

The bronze drakonids had been transporting a cache of relics found on the isles to their base for safekeeping. They had been until someone had gotten impatient.

The draconic humanoids lay scattered across the field, several were dead, one or two were still breathing but too hurt to move, and one of them…

That one had horrified his allies as he was the first to fall. The group had noticed something was off with the timelines in the area, then the air around him seemed to gray before he doubled over in pain. His scales grew thin and cracked, his fangs fell from his mouth, his eyes sank in, and it was like he’d aged eons in moments. A weakened drakonid had fallen to their knees, what had landed on the ground was a pile of fossilized bones.

Then there was a sudden hissing sound and a shape darted out of a fold in the air nearby, taking out two more before it vanished again, then a third. The survivors tried to rally but at this point the ambush was in full swing.

As the last of the guards lay on the ground, his lungs suddenly having trouble drawing oxygen from the air, he looked up as a shape walked towards him out of a stitch in time itself. “Apologies, but I had tried being nice and it was getting me nowhere…” said a cultured voice as an elf in resplendent purple robes walked towards the fallen drakonid. Behind him a dragon appeared as if from nowhere, one of the long sinewy slitherdrakes they had found in the caves below the Isles… but it’s scales were as black as night itself, cracked through with bolts of brilliant white.

There was no mistaking it. The slitherdrake was one of the Infinite Dragonflight.

“Y-you already failed… Murazond has not risen…” gasped the drakonid guardsman, “Chromie and her allies… stopped you…”

“Mmm, they did… this time. But that’s the fun thing about time isn’t it? Patience is all you really need to have another go.” chuckled the elf, opening the chest they had been transporting.

Inside it, seated on a velvet cushion, were two things. A longsword of draconic design that seemed to constantly shed grains of sand, and a blue crystal with an odd weight to it as if it was larger than it should be.

The elf took both of them, then turned to the drakonid with a smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll be putting these to good use. Better than they would have been simply sitting forgotten in some archive in your citadel.” he chuckled.

The drakonid struggled, trying to stand. “Nyloc… why… why side with them?” he gasped.

Nyloc Athel, Chronomancer of Suramar City, shrugged dismissively. “You lot and your ‘one true timeline’ nonsense were becoming insufferable, and you simply wouldn’t give me access to the knowledge I sought. The Infinite are much more free with their information, and very happy sharing it with a man of my skill.” he smirked.

The drakonid gasped, but his muscles felt like they were withering within his arms. Even as he tried to lift himself his own weight was too much! “Nozdormu will… learn of this… he will find you, no matter where or… when you hide…” he wheezed.

“Perhaps he will.” shrugged Nyloc, “Personally, I would love to see him do so. I had always wondered how I would fare against a foe of his caliber. So far however…” he reached out a hand and gestured, the air around his hand turning monochrome, a deep grey that leeched the color out of everything around his fingers.

The drakonid gasped as his eyes widened, collapsing as he clutched at his heart… but his arteries were withering, his chest muscles atrophying at a terrifying rate, and finally he fell silent. It was extremely rare, but if a draconic being lived long enough they were at horrible risk of heart failure.

Thanks to Nyloc’s powers, the ability to manipulate entropy itself, the guardsman had lived several lifetimes in the span of a few scant moments. “… yes, so far I am NOT impressed with the Bronze Dragonflight.” sneered the Chronomancer as he walked back to the dragon, climbing astride it.

As an afterthought he gestured, focusing his temporal powers on the field below. A moment later there was nothing but a rotten old chest barely held together and several piles of bones that may have come from a draconid, or may have come from a large lizard. They were so old it was impossible to say. “Now then my friend, let us be off.”

The dragon hissed, then it took to the sky and flew towards the heavens, and as it gained altitude it seemed to slip into a hidden gap in reality and vanished entirely.

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