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[whatisvpnonappleipad]

do i need a vpn for wow private servers

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do i need a vpn for wow private servers

VPN benefits for WoW private servers

Title: Unlocking the World of Warcraft: How VPNs Enhance Private Server Experience

In the expansive realm of online gaming, World of Warcraft (WoW) stands as a titan, captivating millions with its immersive gameplay and vast virtual universe. For many players, the allure of WoW lies not only in its official servers but also in the dynamic world of private servers. These player-operated realms offer unique experiences, from customized gameplay to nostalgic recreations of earlier versions of the game. However, navigating the realm of private servers comes with its own set of challenges, including potential limitations and security concerns.

This is where Virtual Private Networks (VPNs) emerge as invaluable tools for avid WoW players seeking to optimize their private server experience. By masking users' IP addresses and encrypting their internet connection, VPNs provide a layer of security and anonymity crucial for accessing private servers safely. With VPNs, players can bypass geographical restrictions and connect to servers hosted in different regions, opening up a world of possibilities for exploring diverse gaming communities and content.

Moreover, VPNs offer a shield against common threats such as DDoS attacks and hacking attempts, safeguarding players' personal information and ensuring uninterrupted gameplay. Whether delving into intense PvP battles or embarking on epic quests, knowing that one's connection is protected by a VPN instills confidence and peace of mind.

Beyond security, VPNs also enhance performance by reducing latency and optimizing network speeds. By connecting to servers closer to the game's host location, players can minimize lag and enjoy smoother gameplay, crucial for competitive gaming and raiding in WoW's challenging dungeons and battlegrounds.

In essence, VPNs empower WoW enthusiasts to fully immerse themselves in the vibrant world of private servers, unlocking new realms of adventure while safeguarding their online presence. With the right VPN at their disposal, players can embark on unforgettable journeys, forging alliances, vanquishing foes, and experiencing the boundless wonders of Azeroth like never before.

Risks of playing on WoW private servers

Playing on World of Warcraft (WoW) private servers can offer a tempting alternative to the official game experience provided by Blizzard Entertainment. These unofficial servers, created and managed by third parties, often promise unique features, custom content, and sometimes even faster progression. However, along with these potential benefits come significant risks that players should consider before diving into the world of private servers.

One of the foremost risks of playing on WoW private servers is the lack of security and reliability. Unlike official servers, which are managed and maintained by Blizzard, private servers may not have the same level of protection against hacks, exploits, and data breaches. This exposes players to potential risks such as account theft, malware infections, and personal information compromise.

Furthermore, the legal implications of playing on private servers cannot be overlooked. Since these servers operate without the authorization of Blizzard Entertainment, they are technically infringing upon the company's intellectual property rights. While Blizzard may not always pursue legal action against private server operators or players, there is always a possibility of facing consequences such as account bans or legal notices.

Another risk associated with WoW private servers is the lack of accountability and support. In the event of technical issues, server downtime, or disputes between players, there may be limited recourse available to resolve these issues. Without the backing of a reputable company like Blizzard, players may find themselves at the mercy of unresponsive or unprofessional server administrators.

In conclusion, while WoW private servers may offer enticing features and gameplay experiences, they also come with significant risks that players should carefully consider. From security vulnerabilities to legal concerns and lack of support, playing on private servers entails potential drawbacks that could outweigh the benefits for many players. Ultimately, individuals should weigh these risks against their desire for a non-official WoW experience before deciding to venture into the world of private servers.

VPN necessity for WoW private servers

Using a VPN for accessing WoW private servers has become a necessity for many players who want to enhance their gaming experience while also ensuring their online safety and privacy. A VPN, or Virtual Private Network, creates a secure connection between your device and the private server you are accessing, encrypting your data and protecting it from potential threats.

One of the primary reasons players use a VPN for WoW private servers is to bypass regional restrictions and access servers that may be geographically blocked in their country. By connecting to a VPN server in a different location, players can access private servers from anywhere in the world, ensuring they never miss out on the action.

In addition to bypassing restrictions, using a VPN also helps protect players' personal information and online activities from being monitored by third parties. This is particularly important when playing on private servers, as some servers may not have robust security measures in place, making players vulnerable to cyber attacks or data breaches.

Furthermore, by masking your IP address with a VPN, you can prevent other players from tracing your online activity back to your real location, maintaining your anonymity while gaming. This can be especially useful for players who want to avoid harassment or excessive scrutiny from others in the gaming community.

Overall, using a VPN for WoW private servers is not only a practical necessity but also a valuable tool for enhancing your gaming experience and safeguarding your online privacy and security. By taking the necessary precautions, you can enjoy playing on private servers with peace of mind and without compromising your personal data.

WoW private server security measures

Title: Ensuring Secure Gameplay: WoW Private Server Security Measures

World of Warcraft (WoW) private servers offer players a unique and often customized gaming experience outside the official Blizzard realm. However, with the allure of private servers comes the necessity for robust security measures to protect both players and the integrity of the server itself.

One of the primary security measures implemented by reputable WoW private servers is encryption. Encrypting player data helps safeguard sensitive information such as login credentials, personal details, and in-game transactions from potential threats. Advanced encryption protocols ensure that data remains confidential and secure, reducing the risk of unauthorized access.

Furthermore, strong authentication mechanisms are essential for ensuring that only legitimate players can access the server. Multi-factor authentication, such as combining passwords with verification codes sent to registered email addresses or mobile devices, adds an extra layer of security and minimizes the risk of account breaches.

Regular security audits and updates are also crucial in maintaining server integrity. Server administrators should continuously monitor for vulnerabilities and apply patches and updates promptly to address any potential security flaws. Additionally, implementing firewalls and intrusion detection systems helps detect and prevent unauthorized access attempts or malicious activities.

Community involvement plays a vital role in maintaining a secure WoW private server environment. Encouraging players to report suspicious behavior or security concerns fosters a collaborative effort in identifying and addressing potential threats promptly. Server administrators can also establish clear guidelines and educate players on best security practices to minimize risks.

In conclusion, WoW private server security measures encompass a range of strategies aimed at protecting player data, server integrity, and overall gameplay experience. By prioritizing encryption, authentication, regular audits, and community involvement, private servers can create a safe and enjoyable environment for players to explore and interact within the World of Warcraft universe.

Importance of anonymity on WoW private servers

Anonymity on WoW private servers holds significant importance for many players in the gaming community. The ability to maintain a level of anonymity while playing on a private server offers a sense of security and freedom that may not always be present in the official World of Warcraft servers.

One of the main reasons why anonymity is valued on private servers is the freedom it provides to players. By concealing their true identities, players can fully immerse themselves in the game without the fear of being judged or harassed by others. This sense of anonymity allows individuals to express themselves more freely and engage in gameplay without any inhibitions.

Moreover, anonymity on private servers also enhances the overall gaming experience. Players can experiment with different playstyles, characters, and strategies without the pressure of living up to a certain reputation or image. This fosters a more diverse and inclusive community where players can focus on enjoying the game rather than conforming to external expectations.

Additionally, anonymity can also protect players from potential security threats. By concealing personal information such as real names or locations, players can reduce the risk of identity theft, cyberbullying, or other forms of online harassment.

In conclusion, the importance of anonymity on WoW private servers cannot be overstated. It not only provides players with a safe space to express themselves but also enriches the overall gaming experience by promoting diversity, inclusivity, and security within the community.

[the-society-circle]

HELLO, 2024!

In our ongoing commitment to enriching your experience within The Society Circle, we've initiated a distinctive role called, "The Nexus." Members assigned to this role will orchestrate and host a series of upcoming events, offering you unparalleled opportunities to connect and interact with fellow community members in-game; as well as within the Discord server. What's on the Horizon for 2024?

Weekly Raid Nights: Engage in weekly polls and discussions to determine our raid focus. Whether you're interested in Mog runs or exploring new content, rest assured, you don't need guild affiliation to join our raids. We welcome all!

Quarterly In-Character Meet & Greets: This event is designed to provide you with an extraordinary opportunity to mingle, meet fellow members, and foster connections within our esteemed network.

Quarterly Movie Nights: Unwind and enjoy cinematic experiences with friends. We'll be streaming a curated film quarterly via Discord.

Bi-Annual Paint & Sip Events: Express your creativity during our in-character painting events at specified locations. Share your artistic journey in our designated voice/streaming channel. It is a way to combine an IC and OOC experience.

Quarterly Expeditions: Embark on thrilling in-character adventure tours, meticulously crafted to satiate your thirst for exploration.

As we eagerly anticipate the upcoming year, we're excitedly gearing up for a multitude of cherished memories, character development, thrilling adventures, captivating stories, and most of all heartwarming laughter. Joining our Discord community opens the door to a multitude of benefits and opportunities, both in-character and out-of-character.

In-Character Benefits:

Exclusive Access to The Yellow Pages.

Free Copies of the Monthly Newspaper Azeroth Times.

Free Postage Service.

Direct Access to One of the Largest Events Calendar in the Realm.

Personal Access to In-World and Out-of-World Artisans.

Renowned Members Lounge.

Out-of-Character Benefits:

Promote Your Events and Campaigns: Showcase your creativity and draw attention to your meticulously crafted events and campaigns. Gain visibility within the community and ensure that your stories reach a wider audience.

Daily Calendar with Event Reminders: Stay up to date with a comprehensive daily calendar that highlights all upcoming events. Never miss out on an extraordinary adventure again, as our event reminders notify you 30 minutes before an event begins. You can even follow these channels to receive notifications on your own servers.

Find or Promote Community Servers: Discover or showcase community servers tailored to your specific RP interests. Connect with like-minded players, explore new realms, and forge lasting bonds within a thriving RP community.

Guild Recruitment and Promotion: Are you in search of a guild that aligns with your aspirations? Or perhaps you're a guild leader looking to attract dedicated members? Our platform provides a space to promote and seek out recruiting guilds, ensuring that you find your perfect RP home.

Connect and Collaborate: Forge meaningful connections with fellow players who share your passion for storytelling. Collaborate on writing projects, embark on epic quests together, or join forces in dungeons and battlegrounds. The possibilities for adventure are endless when you're part of our vibrant community.

Showcase Artistic Talents: Artists, this is your chance to shine! Promote your artwork, gain recognition, and seek out commission opportunities. The Society Circle is a platform that celebrates the talent and creativity of artists within the WoW RP community. Participate in thrilling art giveaways and connect with enthusiasts who appreciate your craft.

Join our DISCORD or In-Game Community!

[sharpen-jadescythe]

Jadescythe's Expedition

5min. read

Sharpen sat alone on the docks of Stormwind Harbor in his wetsuit. Behind him people, and Dracthyr too, were going about the exciting business of boarding ships to the Dragon Isles. Travelers were moving parcels and equipment in crates or shuffling around with loaded packs on their backs as they stood in long queues to get on the ships due for adventure.

More than a few excited or flustered people asked official-looking folks in Stormwind or Alliance uniforms where they were supposed to buy tickets. There were no tickets. It wasn't about profit. Sharpen idly wondered if he would overhear a certain rogue friend of his, Alessandre, having a field day fleecing this overly positive crowd. No, Al was snooty to the last, he'd have organized a crack team of rogues to start a sham ticket selling and dragon isles travel insurance operation, like he was some greedy Goblin.

Well, that was a bit harsh. Perhaps Al would have found a way to inventory what items or bags they were carrying, to surgically remove "lost items" from ship cargoes then sell on the other side of the ocean. Al wasn't the sort to steal for the sake of it, either. He'd claim the funding was for essential, mostly patriotic spy services he wanted to provide for the Alliance, only Stormwind never paid the Kaldorei Rogue Network quick enough. Something like that.

A pair of Draenei with thick accents had asked Sharpen twice if he could sell them boat tickets, supposedly because his SI:7 Seal wetsuit made him look legitimate in some way. As if he worked on one of the ships. As... a deep sea diver? A dolphin trainer?? People could be so imaginitive when they really hoped to have something.

Sharpen tried to stay calm and positive while the Draenei man and woman took his resistance to help as some kind of subtle negotiation strategy.

"Five hundred gold, no five hundred thousand!"

"What? Friend, you've even got your currencies mixed up. It would never cost that much here on Azeroth."

"Ze ship! We just need to gain passage to ze ship! Dragons!!" Then the blue Draenei man's face darkened with annoyance. He leaned down close and his chin tentacles waggled. "... You vant Laela?"

Sharpen looked over at Laela then eyed her male friend playfully instead. He wasn't going to really go for the buff Draenei guy, but it might be fun to see them both jump when the tables were flipped.

At that point Laela, whatever she meant to her suspect companion, hit him and then sank her claws in to drag him back down the dock.

Finally, Sharpen snorted laughter. "That, at least, was fun."

Still, Sharpen wasn't ready to leave the peach sunset. It was what he had been waiting for. It was beginning to bloom in the sky, blush rose-colored. He kept his back to the bustle of the docks to show he still definitely wasn't interested in whatever else was going on in the world, just sitting there enjoying the last of his day. As he had done, so perfectly peaceful, for the last three years.

A pink dolphin he had befriended on his afternoon swims came back, just beneath the refraction of his muscular calves resting in the water. It was a she and she refused to be around the loud Draenei. Sharpen pointed a toe beneath the water and tickled the soft, rubbery dolphin's skin. Who would ever leave this kind of life behind?

But there was something stubborn in what he was doing, wasn't there? Sharpen admitted to himself that he refused to be excited about a new adventure in some wild place. Struggling through the Shadowlands had felt like, you know, enough.

At last, Sharpen glanced over his shoulder at the lines now dwindling. The final passengers were boarding ships now. The ones who didn't get there in time would be filling up the local inns and starting the whole long boarding process again tomorrow. More interest than ships, apparently. Even if Sharpen had wanted to go, it would be cramped, irritating, slow going. Traipsing through the Maw would be better. Almost.

"Another animal friend?"

Sharpen had the misfortune of seeing this traveler walk right up to him. He wondered if it would have really been better if he hadn't seen Al coming, though.

Sharpen didn't answer, only narrowed his eyes.

"I was right! By Elune, is that a pink dolphin? Isn't she far from home? They hang out in Stranglethorn, right?"

"Now you're here, she'll probably swim all the way back there, too."

Al sometimes dealt with hits at his ego by pretending it was beneath him to really be troubled to understand. "So, Sharpen Jadescythe, mighty beast man, swam all the way from Stormwind to Stranglethorn. Befriending a cute dolphin along the way. How... you."

The almost compliment made Sharpen wary. He arched his shoulders.

"It's only for a few days, Sharpen. Maybe a week. We just need a good swimmer."

"Funny how I can do everything from taming wild dolphins in service to the Alliance, to defusing mines underwater, yet you want me for so-called swimming. I don't believe you."

Al squatted down nearby. He dragged a hand down his face. "It's for the good of our people--"

"Liar."

Al gave up and had a seat. He squinted an eye at his fine boots going down into seawater though, as Sharpen's bared legs were doing. He tucked his legs in instead.

"It's just that I thought you might want a really good excuse to go to the Dragon Isles after your last grueling, though let's say meaningful adventure in Ardenweald." Then he waited. Sharpen still gazed at the sky.

"Wait. Unless this is woman trouble? If so, I know a couple of lonesome Dracthyr ladies back at headquarters, who'd love to show you their wingspan. We've a got male, too. They wandered upstairs into our office above the inn in Goldshire--"

"I'm not into that!"

"Really? I thought, with the beastmaster thing and all..."

"Go the hell away, Al!"

"Aww your dolphin is gone. Must have been your loud, authoritative voice."

Sharpen's afternoon was now ruined. Al had ruined it, mainly by showing up.

"Fine. Say your piece if that makes you feel better, Al, then just leave me alone."

"Sharpen, we need someone to swim and discretely chart the water sources in the Dragon Isles. There aren't any reliable maps in this new territory, not anything the dragons would trust us with. Well, it's ancient to the dragons, new to us."

"Who is us?"

"This is camping, hiking and living outdoors. Living right off the land and befriending the local wildlife. And drawing cute pictures of what you find. This would be what you love, Sharpen."

"I can't really go, not for long. I'm a father these days. I adopted a--"

"It's been three years, can't she walk?"

Sharpen was freshly offended and looked it, too.

"Sharpen. You can bring your young Tauren daughter, a team of wonderful carers, the best woods guides. We have a list of people lined up. All expenses paid. And talk about father-daughter bonding time. This will be epic immersion in nature for two wild souls."

Al sounded like a travel brochure, or he had been stationed away in Ardenweald too long. What had Al been up to all this time, anyway? Hadn't he been stationed in sketchy Revendreth too at some point? Sharpen thought most people had left the Shadowlands three years ago when the Northrend sky was put back.

"Some of those people you're offering me are bound to be spies. Can I bring my own people? Friends, of course."

"Sure! That's the idea. Useful, clever nature lovers like yourself. You can even name the expedition. Like the Nessingwary... something something." Al now looked tired. "One of those."

Sharpen was quiet again. He wondered. More wondering than worrying, he realized.

"I'll do it."

"Excellent! Draw us some nice maps, little plant sketches, chart the rivers and cute ponds, and a few animal specimens. I'll get you some sturdy cages. It'll be fun."

Sharpen turned and shook Al's hand when he offered. Sharpen got clapped on the back so hard, he almost pitched back into the water.

"You'll leave soon, I'll make all the arrangements!"

Wait, had Al said animal specimens, big cages...?

"You'll even get your own ship!" Al called back as Sharpen tried to ask about the last part.

"My own--WOOOT!"

[celestia-serenfall]

The Dusk Lily Vanguard! Angela Wang!

[shamanofthewilds]

I feel like I need to talk about something on here that will help me move past some things. I want to get off my chest the negative impact being a guild leader had on me. No , this is not going to be me wanting to throw names out, or anything like that. I just simply want to talk about the damage it has done, and hopefully help myself get over it. Nothing I will say will be against anyone, I have no interest in that sort of thing. Warning this is LONG.

When I first joined the guild I was quickly brought up to officer position early on. I truly did love and admire the guild and the concept it was born of. It was exciting to be a part of it, and it had a of people I knew. It was becoming well known due to the successful advertisements on tumblr and twitter, and with a lot of well known artists joining, got fast attention. That is not a bad thing, the guild was at the start, intended to be a collection of friends surrounding the simple concept of peace on Azeroth among all, the original creator of the guild (and the only name I will put out), Buttart, sought out to just simply make it that. A place where their , and our, friends can be that was built on a well agreed idea that we could all get behind. And she did, and it was fun.

We had colorful fun group rps and little events that were colorful and chaotic. The ideas were ever flowing , the memes and art born from conversations and topics were made. And it connected everyone. But, the title of guild master would eventually make its way to me. As the guild became more established, public and known, so did the pressure of needing keep things going, interesting and engaging. Once we had who were the officers, and myself as the new GM, we sought out to do our very first big public thought of shortly after it was revealed that Teldrassil was set on fire. Some may be familiar with this event, Honoring of Teldrassil. My friends at the time who helped me lead were phenomenal artists , and we were able to create wonderful graphics for this event. It was my very first big event while being guild leader and it’s still to this day an event I am very proud of. I do not care what the status of who I know is now, at the time, I was very proud of us. I was very proud of what was made, and the time put it into it. People shared screenshots, drew art, it changed peoples characters and impacted their stories. I’ve never felt a feeling like this before. That we did this. That I helped it. Especially before a time we could speak to the other faction, some were there. And from there, we had a momentum. At this point in time, the guild was already known among quite a few people. This was both a good and bad thing, but the good part was we were able to provide fun events of a neutral caliber. The bad part is of course the few people who like to hide behind anonymous asks and the expectations people had from us. But it was over all a positive experience. We established the monthly soup kitchen where everyone was allowed. We had Skate at the Lake for couples who felt unsafe to be in public due to being cross faction. We had a camping trip, which well I feel I could of done a little better but it was still nice in its own way.  And no matter what is felt now, these were all still fun and successful events that I will never ask to go another way. I hope that others out there still feel the same. We even had, for a little awhile, a public council where people can discuss world problems, events and make it a way for people to network and connect guilds together. A current on going campaign Alliance side was thought up there and I could  not be more proud to have helped see that happen. Even in Battle for Azeroth, which for some was an awful expac, was actually one of the best for our guild. As I continued to help try and establish our story, the idea of a war of this caliber that we were caught in between of was extremely fitting. We were at odds with everyone. We were at risk of being seen as traitors. It was eventful, risky and very fun for many to get caught up in this dangerous political atmosphere. However, I began to feel the effects of what would eventually damage me. You see, I know very well there were so many things I could of done differently. Choices I could of made differently, ways of handling things or just wishing I knew what to say. One of the worst things to come from being a guild master is the fact that you’re seen as the one fully responsible for everything. That if you do not handle it well, you failed the person/situation/group. Socially, we as people see leadership as knowing what to do , and I think its easy to forget in a setting like this...that I did not. I felt like I should of known better, when at the time I really didn’t until later. It still pains me, that the negative effects I that hurt me so bad at the end overshadow all the hard work we all put in. And it’s why I really wanted to talk about this. I want to get past it, to forget it and to move on and keep hold the good we brought to the community and to also put out how much harm this did to my brain. I was very alone during much of my leadership in the APC. And I mean that physically. I was in a place where I was always alone. I was in a new place, stressed, going to school and I barely had anyone to talk to. I ended up starting to realize things about myself. I constantly felt like I had something wrong with me, but I didn’t know what it was. I thought if figuring out if I had dyslexia for certain that would solve all my problems (it wasn’t just that.) But the pressure soon grew on me. I didn’t know how a guild leader was suppose to act, I wasn’t sure what was entirely expected of me or how much  I should or shouldn’t have asked for help. I truly did think that, since i was guild leader, I had to handle the situations. Even though the people helping me would offer to do it. I had such a fear that if I didn’t do it, I wouldn’t be a good leader, that I already knew what I had to say and that would make it better. Yet once faced with the actual situations, the reality of dealing with a person sunk in. I have such a problem with making people upset, with bringing bad news, scolding or warning people. Anything that happened, I feel like I was betraying people. Those who I trusted to help me, I should of trusted more to do some of the things I knew would be hard on me. Yet I thought I truly could do it. And  I wish I could say I am sorry to them now, if I was frustrating in that matter. I frustrate myself. As time went on, I was becoming more and more paranoid. More pressured and more stressed over our goal to be accepting, welcoming and safe. We had many eyes on us in the community. I inherited a guild that was already elevated to a status that I could not live up to. So many people saw beautiful art, fun characters and memes being made and would garner more attention (this of course is not bad...but with many artists in the guild, we also got the wrong attention of people wanting to get close only for the art) But I know I have a problem with perfectionism. As well as trying to make people happy, which I was always told is not possible as well as being perfect. But it’s like...it’s something attached to your brain, biting you. Every time you think of a logical reaction, the small problem creature bites my brain and quickly gives me a what if. I would see clearly the results of what I wanted, and the only way to do that is if I did exactly what I envisioned. The perfectionism and wanting to not upset or do something wrong is what further accelerated the issues. It was the time where tumblr was tossing out call outs here or there. People being exposed for being bad and anyone associated with said person labeled equally as bad, despite maybe not of knowing, or maybe not knowing the true weight of it. It got to a point where there was no room for error in who I should be near. Was this guild okay to be around? Are there people in it I should know about? Is this person okay? Could there be a threat here? A hidden racist symbol? I had to look deep into things at time, prove things, stress myself over things that had little evidence on some people. The want to make the guild safe is what ended up hurting people as well. There are definitely moments where I should of given things better chances, but it was panic inducing. The want for safety for everyone made me scared of everyone. Anyone could be bad. And if a mistake happened, it would feel like I failed everyone. And there were certainly times I was made to feel that way. But even then, no matter WHAT. I would do what I could TO help people. I would ensure people were cared for , that problems were addressed and even if someone felt bad about something I so badly want to reassure people that it’s okay to not know things. That not everyone is fully aware of what something might mean. So when I was able to do that I was happy. But....the effects were beginning to weigh on me. And the problem was, really, is that i would feel these feelings so intensely. The fear of disappointing people , the fear of angering or upsetting people. The fear of being in trouble. I must stress, that it was a true, full body feeling. Of weight, and stress, and pain. I put so much of myself when I do things, that all of me would feel it. And it’s what made being a guild master so hard. People talk about being empathetic or being an “empath”. But really, if you knew what being empathetic really felt like, it isn’t fun. It’s panicking and feeling despair. It’s knowing so much, you know what would you could do, but then with me, so fearful of hurting someone because you know what would happen. I became so anxiety ridden. A guild with a high profile, full of people who were close to each other, made anything less than fun even more hurtful. It’s when I wish I let the people helping me do the things they should have. And I’m not going to blame anyone, I’m not even going to blame myself. I’ve been going through a lot of internal searching. A lot of mental healing and a lot of understanding. The good part is I feel like I can see where everything went wrong, but where everything went right and what could be made better. But I can’t keep dwellings on the should haves. It’s time I move past the mindset of should have, could have and why didn’t I. But as time progressed. I began to feel worse. Being GM was fun in being in a position of being a political figure, a neutral figure, but in my attempt to not be what some gms I’ve seen get chastised for, I hardly allowed myself to do any of my own stories. I completely cut myself off from what gave me passion for Gotosh. I never made him the focus of events, at least, I didn’t think I did. I would always try to keep him out from doing something, so that others could be in the spotlight. It’s funny, but it made me relate to Thrall even more. It put him in a political positioned he began to feel disconnected to, and needed to return to cultural roots. A lot of what Gotosh is, is my passion for searching my own identity and using him as vessel so that people are proud of theirs. But I couldn’t do any of that. I yearned to be a part of stories that could fulfill that. Eventually....there came a point where logging on put a boulder in my chest. When the public peace talks were me barely taking in whats happening, or meetings where I barely felt the will to press on. I wanted to cry after guild events, because I just felt so sad. I couldn’t be the person that was needed, I felt. I couldn’t put the energy I put in once. Even though we had many great events, the depression being brought on after some things happening was so heavy on my heart, that I couldn’t bare going through it again. So after much crying. I realized that the only way this can stop is if I finally announce me stepping down. But that also meant closing the guild for good. Knowing where it was at now, it was better I felt, that if it was given a proper closure. It was never going to be what it was in the beginning. Recruitment was never a satisfactory system for me, personally and I didn’t want to put this pressure on anyone else. There many things I knew I would have to explain, or show and it would of been too much. It wouldn’t have been right. At the end of the day, It was only suppose to be a guild of friends , one that ended up getting too popular, and then given the pressure of feeling like it had to have proper things of a guild with story and all that makes a guild immersive. But it was always an uphill battle. One that I manged to juggle, and perhaps someone could of made it something else...but I think, with all things said and done, to close its doors was the right thing to do, even if I do miss so many of those people. After I stepped down, it was an uphill battle for myself. I had people in my life that were now no longer there. The repeated things that came up, weighed heavy on me. I felt so exhausted, because once you’re a guild master the fantasy is out the window. You’re dealing with people now. Real people. Emotions. That is a lot. And it’s a lot when you have no idea at the time just how bad your brain was. I had such a hard time trusting people, wanting to talk to people. And still, to this day, I feel the damages of being disappointed in people, saddened by people and feeling like I’m not enough for people. ...Then after school was up, and well into my bad feelings, I ended up figuring out what was wrong with me. After going to the psychologist, doctor, doing so much self evaluation I finally was able to get a real diagnosis I never thought was possible. And it was too little too late for all the hardships I went through in school both in my work and in my hobby. But it was nice to know now...that what I felt, as intensely as i did, wasn’t my fault. Now recently, I’ve been hard working on being kinder to myself, to accept myself, and to try and look at past mistakes and not think of what could of happened, but try and be at peace with the mistakes made and be a better person. It’s just all this has weighed so heavily on me, I never could fully get over it. I felt like If I held onto the bad feelings, people would believe me. And I think this is what many people do. That if you try to get better, and show you’re okay, or try and work past things, no one will really believe how bad things hurt you. So you keep the pain, you can’t let it go, so that people can hear and see the damages you went through. But it’s time I let go. And let myself be okay. To advocate for people taking care of themselves, without going into an anxiety corner of what can happen to someone, when you’re undiagnosed disabled and unable to handle the expectations and situations suddenly put on you. So if you read this far...thank you. If you relate to feeling like you have to be perfect, like you can’t disappoint people or have an intense fear of failure or are an extremely empathetic person who want to make people happy. I strongly urge you to take cautionary steps into do something like leading a guild. I was an incredibly special case with a guild like this of this caliber and popularity, but any guild master or position of leadership can do this to someone. Please know , it’s okay to let other people help you, or to do tasks for you. You may not fully understand why you feel this way, which is why you don’t know you NEED to ask. But I’m telling you now, trust your friends. Trust the people helping you, and if you’re starting a new guild, take the time to know what it is you are making and take it slow. I am forever thankful for the time I was a gm, and the things I was able to do. The people I got to meet and the times I was able to have. I will forever miss many of the people I was close to, and saddened certain things happened they way they did. Thank you, Azeroth Peace Council, for at least giving me that moment of making the good times when I could. And please note, that none of this is meant to speak ill on anyone. And it’s certainly not me calling the guild bad. It’s a reflection of what it did to me and not being aware of it and then damages it did in the process of not understanding whats happening. Nor is it meant to damage or sour any enjoyment you had at our events. That joy and happiness and work put into those events were real and I would never want to see it any differently. I thank all the people who would compliment me, my officers or the guild. It truly helped me continue, and try my best. I thank the guild itself, and Buttart, for allowing me in and giving me a place to be after some previously bad experiences and creating a fun and creative community. And thank you, for reading. I hope this was all understandable and not confusing

[ainsley-f]

Pride / The Maw

Day 13, DWC 2021

CW: Death, Scenes of a medical nature

She had only heard of the Maw and it’s horrors.

Where life after true death was only speculated on before, it was now given a definite answer since the very gates of the afterlife opened up above them.

As citizens of Azeroth themselves began to traverse into its domain, the stories began pouring in, too. Turns out the afterlife is much like regular life, for the most part.

Except the Maw.

Think of the most torturous kind of hell. A place where souls go for eternal torment, consumed by rage, fear, and pain—pain so unbearable and inescapable, and torture so unimaginable that the stories themselves could mollify even the worst of criminals.

Apparently it was worse.

Then more information started pouring in. Death itself was broken. Souls had no chance to find eternal rest where they truly belonged, instead being sent straight to the depths of the Maw. No judgment— souls good and bad being subject to torture they didn’t deserve.

As soon as the medical network caught wind of this, their jobs became a lot harder. Saving lives was tough to begin with, but now, knowing where these souls would end up if they didn’t succeed?

The pressure was enough to see even the most hardened of doctors crumble.

It was all Ainsley could think of as the loud resonance of the heart monitor echoed throughout the room, the screen glowing with irregularities, and her patient laying unresponsive. Hovering over her them, hands clasped together over their chest, glowing with the Light and pumping down rhythmically, all she could think of was the eternal darkness of the Maw.

Her eyes flitted to the shaman across from her, their hands charged with electric energy, and waiting for their signal.

“Ready.”

“Clear!”

As the shaman placed their hands over the patient’s chest, a quick burst of energy jolted the body. The monitor continued with no change.

“Increase,” she ordered. Ainsley resumed her position, continuing with chest compressions.

Please, you do not deserve to go there.

Her patient was kind, and funny. They were a dock worker that worked at Tradewinds Market. They had a wife. Two kids. They were a happy family.

You cannot go, please.

“Ready,” the shaman indicated.

“Clear.”

Another jolt. Another moment of nothing. No sign of life sparked from the body. The sound emanating from the monitor became one long, continuous beep.

“Asystole.”

“Come on, come on!” Ainsley urged under her breath, glancing over to the nurse beside her. “Push epi.”

Sweat lined her brow as she continued to plead internally, keeping a steady rhythm with her compressions. She could feel her arms starting to get weaker and weaker.

Nothing. Time felt like it had simultaneously stopped and was rushing forward too fast. Desperation licked at the room.

“Push another milligram of epi. Take over compressions,” the priestess ordered.

As another nurse took over chest compressions and another dose of medication was given, Ainsley stood over the patient, placing her hands gently over the body and allowing divine energy to radiate out and surround it. She closed her eyes and a prayer began to flow out of her lips, hushed and quick.

The Light was a kind new magic that the Kul Tirans had to get used to with the increase of mainlander priests. The miracles it afforded couldn’t be denied, and it was all Ainsley could do but hope that today they were afforded one of those very miracles.

“Light, grant them the strength to push though. Flow life through their body once more. Give them a fighting chance. Grant them your grace.”

As the holy energy began to grow stronger, Ainsley felt her body being drained and exhaustion began to seep in. She used all her power to hold on. She had to.

Seconds.

…Seconds.

…Another minute.

It had been too long.

Nothing. Only cold emptiness as the body remained unresponsive and the flatline continued. It had already been a few minutes, and the energy in the room began to dim.

Her eyes opened, and she shared a grief-stricken look with the rest of her code team. Her jaw clenched as the glow of the Light faded slowly.

“Time of death. 8:45PM.”

There was a moment of stillness before Ainsley moved aside to allow the post-cardiac arrest process to begin. Tossing her gloves out, she took another moment to take a few deep breaths.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the Maw.

Whatever was happening in the Shadowlands, she simply hoped would resolve soon. Because as she looked back to her patient’s lifeless body, all she could imagine was endless pain, rage, and fear.

And she hoped that one day their soul would find peace somehow.

@daily-writing-challenge​

[thechoirwra]

The Choir and the College is Now Recruiting

Are you looking for a guild full of thrills, chills, and bad decisions? Are you looking to pursue knowledge deemed forbidden? Do you just want to hang out with a group of generally chill cultists who ponder the nature of both this world and the next? Then The Choir and the College might be right for you!

The Choir (WrA-A) and The College of Twilight (WrA-H) are a pair of guilds designed around crafting Old God-themed storylines and networking likeminded roleplayers together to explore these themes.

Acting as a secret society, those within meet in confidence among the sleeping world of the Black Forest, plotting and scheming to shroud Azeroth once more in the darkness of long-dead gods. Behind their masks and aliases, those within follow the will of the eldritch pantheon and plant the seeds of future destruction.

We are LGBT friendly, bigot unfriendly, and looking for new sacrifices recruits. If this strikes your fancy, you can apply to join here. We are currently in the pre-campaign phase of our first ‘season’ and will begin to move the plot forward one week after Shadowlands begins!

[luminess-brightcoil]

No Matter What You Do

All instruments recording the ongoing spread of the scourge pandemic indicated a rapid increase in risk of safety, up to and including the roaming dead in the very streets of Stormwind. What was once recommended to simply be a matter of staying off the streets and increasing security measures has changed with similar rapidity, up to and including the recommendation of immediate evacuation for all citizens of Stormwind, leaving only the Stormwind Patrol, the Argent Crusade, the Ebon Blade, and any of Azeroth’s Champions that were so moved to contribute to containing the absolute carnage at hand.

As the topic was broached for what this means for the great underground metropolis of Mechagon, Luminess Brightcoil balked at the data, though she Observed it in totality and took it upon her processing parameters to integrate this new data into her daily routine. To say the outlook was grim would be an understatement. To say that she was growing exhausted of grim outlooks would be even more of one.

Even a Beacon is prone to bouts of personal dismay. It was quickly becoming one Titans-damned thing after another for her. Starting and ending a revolution. Joining and ending the Fourth of Four Wars. Defeating the encroachment of the Old Gods. The Return of the San’layn. And now, this: Death itself, and whatever forces direct it upon Azeroth. And all of this within a single year. 

On days like these, a Beacon would wonder why she ever left the island in the first place... 

Luminess sat amongst her peers in the Think Tank that was assembled for the purpose of analyzing and developing an expedient solution to the matter of the scourge invasion with the Gnomish population at its focus. The scent of recirculated air through coppered ducts intertwined with the effervescent presence of warm, freshly applied toner as gnome and mechagnome alike scanned through document after document. Every finer point addressed, every corollary counter-examined, every contingency remodeled and re-assessed… And yet it was the general consensus of those present that not much headway was made just yet. 

Except for Walton Cogfrenzy, Chief Architect of Mechagon, who maintained that he had a very simple and direct plan of response, that in any other context would have been seen as antithetical to their current societal trajectory, and now perhaps its only chance for survival: 

Complete Lockdown.

“We will establish a temporary teleportation network between here and Tinker Town,” Walton explained. “Citizens of Gnomeregan can be funneled into our now half-vacant halls along with all our Gnomadic kin. Following that, remaining available space and resource accommodation can be afforded to our Dwarven cousins, though it is projected very few would be willing to retreat from their own beloved city. Still, we must press them to do so, and once we have evacuated all that we may hold and accommodate safely, access to the network will be severed from all entry points.”

The King shifted his weight from one side of his seat to the other. By far, the once High Tinker but now King Gelbin Mekkatorque would be the least Kingly King you could meet. He was conscientious to others. He yielded space and listened more than spoke. He sought counsel for all decisions, tall or small. Betraying the good will of his people was unthinkable, just as he would strive against working against their humbler wishes. And more often than not, you had to remind him of his now-regal station. A station, it is said, he has been working to reform away from the obsolete protocol known as the 'Divine Right of Kings.' Perhaps such topics could be addressed more directly when things were Quieter. But in either regard… Luminess, for one, was grateful to have someone so unlike the Mad Tyrant that, for now, she was willing to give the whole Monarchy thing one more chance.

“It will be difficult to convince the Gnomereganians to take refuge,” sighed King Mekkatorque wearily. “Many believe they’re perfectly safe within the walls of Ironforge, despite the surrounding snowy climate being far more tactically advantageous for the Scourge than even the tranquil forests of Elwynn or the unimpeding flats of Durotar. And even so, their pride is at stake to some extent. They won’t take easily to being confined to another underground kingdom, even if it is ostensibly theirs. Over time, we of Gnomeregan have become more and more like our Gnomadic cousins than not as the impossibly high toll taken by Thermaplugg continues to plague our once-hallowed halls, figuratively AND literally.”

“And so I would hope they would be difficult to convince, your highness.” Intamin Diveroll, renowned prosthetist and out-speaker, swiveled his chair towards Mekkatorque just slightly as he respectfully interjected, but kept his gaze upon the Chief Architect. “Your plan puts our now-combined kingdom at risk of recreating the exact same scenarios for destruction that had befallen either of them. Suppose we are all holed up here and one of our vaunted city’s life preservation systems should fail, or worse: sabotaged by ne’er-do-wells known or unknown. Suppose the invasion never ends, and to quell a dissatisfied populace, a new Mad Tyrant emerges to place them back into order under the guise of Public Safety. And should neither fate befall us, and we merely survive through the ordeal to a ruined Azeroth or… continued indefinite life underground, even in prosperity… that would make cowards of us all.”

“It is not… Cowardice to prioritize survival! It is the only acceptable option,” pressed Cogfrenzy with just as much proud conviction on display as he hid his secret guilts. His servos whined under his weight as he leaned forward against the conference table with the coiled-bulb lamps glowing above his exhausted, perspiring brow. “And the only safe one. Our Kingdom is the most secure against external threats of any on Azeroth. Our doors open and close only to us, and our walls are impenetrable against all alien threats. Anyone who enters without the aid of our own kind is instantaneously vaporized by our unparalleled city defenses. For five hundred years, a full-length default gnomish lifetime... our security was so assured that the rest of the planet knew not even of our existence. We were effectively anonymous. Fel, we even have the capability of sealing off all access to the Azeroth’s vast network of Arcane Leylines, guaranteeing that not a single soul enters or leaves through the mightiest of mage portals!”

As the King ran his fingers through his whiskers, Luminess’s face belied only a hint of bemusement as her gaze slide sideways to one of her closest companions to examine his face for a reaction to that last sentence. Indy would offer none. But she knew. They both knew.

“My King,” Indy gently prodded, turning his trademark winning smile towards his liege. “The Rustbolt Revolution demonstrated to us that the answer to our prosperity lies not here exclusively in Mechagon. It lies in Greater Azeroth. And to that end it is not only such that we should not run away, but we should fight to defend it alongside everyone else.”

King Mekkatorque smiled at Indy gently, reassuringly. “On that, we are in total agreement, Good Doctor. We are no longer two kingdoms of Gnomes. We are one, and beyond that, we belong to the mighty Alliance as well. And defending our world from imminent threats within and without is the Alliance’s primary function, after all.”

The Beacon stirred in her seat, squeaking it at the hinge as she leaned forward onto her elbows, fingers tented before her face. She refused to comment on the political trajectory of the Gnomish populace, for now. Instead, she turned to another of her companions that she insisted be included on this Think Tank for the sake of the wealth of information he contains as a single entity. “Cornelius,” she addressed him from across the table.

“Hello, User!” came the chipper response from Mister Tribulatus, self-aware as ever, and the Beacon remained quite proud of him for achieving that.

“Known methods of Scourge Incursion, please, listed."

“Query accepted! Running diagnostics…”

The room fell silent, save the soft stirring of seats in anticipation, and the soft ting-ting of a spoon inside a cup of coffee, one of a great many that were filled and spilled on this auspicious day. 

“Results compiled. Scourge are known to make entry into populated areas through the following means, alphabetically: Aerial Delivery. Burrowing. Contagion. Localized Necromancy.”

All eyes in the room, save Cornelius’, slowly drifted over to a mechagnome seated at the end of the table, brow bedecked with ostentatious horn modifications. His focus was trained on an asymmetrical paper football formed out of one of the documents on the table, and his attempts to ‘kick’ it through a ‘goal post’ made from used coffee creamer cups and stirring rods. His clamps fail to provide the manual dexterity needed to perform the maneuver, but after eighty-seven attempts so far, the man was not about to back down now. However, he felt the familiar sensation of an entire room of his alleged peers judging him all at once, and so he looked up.

“... What?! Titans Testes, I’m not a Necromancer, I resurrect myself with CLONES,” protested one Doctor Theodorp Wimblewomble the Sixth. Or was it Seventh, now? The people of Mechagon had only his word for the answer. 

“The Fel practices are adjacent to Necromancy are they not?” the Beacon inquired, with earnest sincerity. “Perhaps in this way you can offer us insight?” 

“You’re asking an electrician to fix your toilet,” chided Theodorp as he unceremoniously failed his eighty-eighth attempt to score a field goal. “Fortunately for you I am learned of a multitude of means of delivering Doom.” 

The King rubbed his eyes with a gloved hand before flipping open the box of donuts on the table, deciding which of the remaining flavors might quell the madness he felt in this moment for including a pseudo war criminal on this Think Tank. Take him away, Blueberry Glazed.

“For certain, this Kingdom is advantageously impervious to outside threats, as the Chief Architect asserts. Titans know I’ve tried and nearly succeeded countless times to perviate it myself. Yes, that is a real word.”

All of the eyes that were cast upon Theodorp quickly volleyed to Cornelius. Instinctively, he clicked and whirred in place before speaking: “Perviate. Transitive Verb. To enter, bore into, or run through. Would you like me to search for more information regarding Perviation?"

Professor Theodorp Wimblewomble the Sixth silently threw his clamps into the air, victorious over all who dared to doubt him, once again. As the gnomes around him (save Cornelius) collectively stifled their groans, he permitted them immediate reprieve of a well-deserved gloating, and continued...

“As my criminal record shows, I’ve only had so much luck attempting to bring various forms of Fel into our kingdom. The Titan-Energy Interference from the Engine that we’ve made our home into is a natural repellent to both the Fel and Necromantic efforts from exterior sources. Our Previous King spared no effort or expense at seeing such impure practices all but eradicated or imprisoned.”

He takes a moment to feel very smug about being the only practitioner of either who isn’t currently technically imprisoned before continuing: “Ultimately, our greatest concern, second only to simply allowing the plague to enter our halls through contamination of persons or produce… would be someone like me infiltrating Mechagon and finding a way to succeed. For the Fel, we have no particular need of concern as ever. But in the case of Necromancy, they would not need to open a portal, they would simply need to locally source some corpses right here. Which could be remarkably easy, considering the whole proposition to keep the walls closed and sealed that no one could possibly enter or leave.”

The Think Tank of gnomes, already silent, somehow fell even more deathly quiet. No one liked that.

“Then it would not be enough to simply close the doors and shutter our windows,” the Beacon spoke wielding a voice laden equally with certainty as hesitance. “It would require a near-constant monitor of every individual’s vital signs, and restricted movement for all throughout the densely populated areas. We would effectively not be merely bunkering in for our physical safety, but we would need to place the population under a functional quarantine for the first few weeks simply to ensure there is no undetected viral agent is able to spread. We would require anyone taking refuge here to comply with these regulations, or…”

She gulped as she choked on her words in this moment. Indy peered at her searchingly. Cornelius smiled at the wall. Theodorp was on the edge of his seat, waiting for her to finish her thought. King Gelbin Mekkatorque simply listened, chin upon thumb, cheek against finger, elbow against armrest. 

“... Or be placed under secure, supervised quarantine. Just for the duration. And ethically, of course. This is for… public safety.”

Theodorp clinked his clamps excitedly under the table with a wide, toothy grin while Luminess attempted to meet Intamin’s gaze. But when her optics searched for his, he had already turned away. She sank in her seat just slightly as her lips tightened and her face drooped just a bit. 

The King nodded slowly as his own eyes searched in the far distance, into the invisible thinkspace we all have for flaw in this reasoning. And whether he found zero flaws to be had, or he simply accepted the known flaws as they were, it was not made clear in his exhausted sigh that set his moustache billowing in the wind blown forth from his lips.

“You speak the Truth as ever, Beacon,” decreed the King. “If we are going to do this then it would be folly to employ any half-measures. BUT... we will make sure that all who are so quarantined for the duration will have the inconvenience of their sacrificed time compensated, their needs of survival and personal comfort fully provided for. They are our people, our family and friends, and we will make their stay at home a veritable paradise until the situation is under control. To do any less would call into question the foundations and integrity of our very society’s principles in a manner we simply do not have time for right now, or possibly ever. Have we reached consensus?”

The assembled members of the Think Tank all offered their agreement in unison in low grunts of affirmation and/or raised hands. Even Intamin, after a moment. Luminess quietly sighed in relief, allowing her jaw to finally un-clench itself.

“Then the matter is settled upon. Beacon Brightcoil, I am counting on you to ensure that the quarantine efforts are carried out in a safe and ethical manner the people will find agreeable. Spare no expense. The rest of us will reconvene after a one hour biological break to discuss our efforts abroad aiding the campaign in Icecrown and the Eastern Kingdoms. Titans Observe that it will be Gnomish Ingenuity and Determination that brings a swift resolution to this crisis!”

The King’s counsel and subjects before him all responded with an assured nod and an equally assured utterance of “Titans Observe,” even Doctor Theodorp Wimblewomble the Sixth or Seventh.

With that, King Gelbin Mekkatorque bowed his head with a soft chuckle and made haste towards the door, eager to get out of being in a meeting for however long he can manage it today. Luminess, making similar speed, exited behind him as the others shuffled their belongings in order. 

Intamin gave chase.

“Beacon? Oh, Beacon?” cried the man playfully behind his companion, who laughed as she slowed her pace to allow them to walk on parallel paths. “I was simply wondering which personal liberties I would still be afforded while imprisoned in my own private paradise prison.”

Luminess rolled her eyes and nudged him with her elbow, shaking her head as she chuckled softly. “Really, Indy, the situation is dire enough without you nagging at my personal principles over my duties as a Beacon.”

The prosthetist cackled quietly beside her, grinning all too wide as he satisfied himself with her acknowledgement of such a Truth. “I am teasing, of course, my dear… Nothing about this is easy, and though it burns at my very soul to admit it… this is a necessary action to take. So long as it remains a stopgap, and not a solution. And Titans Observe that I may rest easy knowing you are at the lead of such a project.” 

“Titans may Observe it so… but they shan’t,” Luminess responded softly.

Intamin jogged in front of her to impede her movement, narrowing his ocular sensors to thin lines as he looked over her features for any sign that she might be joking. She was not.

“... You will not be staying? But you said--”

“I know that I spoke in favor of quarantine and I stand by that. It is what is right for our people, both of them, all of them… But it is not my place. For certain, This Unit could perform the task and do it well, but I am by no means the only one capable of doing so."

Intamin looked her over curiously. "Did not the King ask you to do it yourself?"

Luminess allowed a sly smirk. "He merely asked me to ensure it will be done. I will reach out Wenzli Cogsalvage to manage this in my stead. She is the finest community organizer I have seen since the end of the Revolution. And though I am beloved by many, as a Beacon I am still mistrusted by the same amount or more for our ties to the Mad Tyrant’s Orthodoxy and the work that remains in our reform thereof… By contrast, she is of the people in a way I can never truly be ever again, and will therefore be more efficient in inspiring trust in this time. In addition, since it is Wenzli... I will have the added bonus of most people simply mistaking her for being me anyway, as normal."

The prosthetist clicked his teeth. She certainly had a point, if not several, but he was not letting her off the hook so easily. "And so if your place is not here, Miss Brightcoil… Then where is it?" 

A brief question inspires an eternity in a split second of consideration. Where, indeed? Was her place in Stormwind, with the Embassy as an Ambassador? Was her place with Prince Erazmin and the Rustbolt Resistance, now expanding their field of operation to fight back against the emergent Scourge threat? Was it with the other medical professionals of the Azeroth Medical Association, searching for a long term solution against the contagion and the short term efforts of caring for those currently afflicted? Was it with her mercenary allies in the Dragon Corps or the Fence Macabre, beating back the hordes with them and other Champions? Was it by the side of those she held dear, one small clutch of beloved friends or another? 

Luminess smirked just for a moment before lifting her gaze to Intamin. Her eyes flickered Gold with the Light before she answered him with a warm tone.

“Uncertain. But what you said earlier rings true again: Wherever my place might be… it is quite clear that the answer is not here, in Mechagon. It is out there… in Azeroth.”

Intamin couldn’t help but allow a smugly satisfied grin plaster his face, flashing that perfect one-millimeter gap in his front teeth as they bit lightly upon his tongue to stifle a boisterous guffaw that would otherwise spoil what could be looked back upon as a tender moment.

“Titans Observe,” he said simply, and embraced his friend tightly with both arms, squeezing as hard as he can, as he always did, knowing that once again, this could be the final opportunity to do so. “But I shall not allow you to continue your adventures abroad unaided. Your previously requested modifications are complete and awaiting installation back at my workshop over a splendid Torcolato I’ve been saving for just such an occasion.” 

“Mister Diveroll, there is absolutely nothing that I would enjoy more at this precise moment,” said Luminess, as she sniffled once and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the collar of her ceremonial garb after returning the embrace of a beloved friend and confidant. She then grabbed hold of his arm for escort down the winding path from the High Tinkertory, down to into the city which she held so dear, the city which until only still so recently was all she had known.

And as she walked, audibly promising the matter was settled to her companion, she continued to silently deliberate within herself over it all... whether she was making the right or wrong choice, whether there was an optimization to their plans she failed to find, whether or not it was hopeless to even try, endlessly as she would, as she does, and as she has, every single day of her life.

And as such... she prayed to the Titans, as she did, every single day of her life, that they may Observe her following the ideal path.

Tell me what your spirit says Show me what you pray Teach me every single part I'll be your guide You are a prisoner Looking for to be You can change your face But can't change your mind No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do

[katieskarlette]

Shadows Rising: A Reaction Post

Short, mostly non-spoilery version:  I liked it overall.  I give it a solid B, maybe a B+.

I was disappointed in how little Nathanos and/or Sylvanas content there was, but I think proclamations of the ship’s doom are premature.  

I’m intrigued by the first rumblings of new character development for certain characters, especially Anduin, Alleria and Turalyon.

I was rooting for Talanji so much.  She’s great. Zekhan is a cinnamon roll too pure for this world.  Sira was kind of boring. Fairshaw is so darn heartwarming I can’t stand it. I like Bwonsamdi more now. The lack of Wrathion is unsurprising but unfortunate. Nothing new with Tyrande but she’s already poised for major development in Shadowlands.

Much longer, spoilery version below.

This ended up being more of a ramble than an essay, but there’s a lot of disjointed thoughts pinging around in my head, so let’s dive in.

Overall, I enjoyed Shadows Rising.  Was it the best book ever?  No.  Not even the best Warcraft book ever.  But it was an enjoyable read.  It’s always a treat to get into the heads of characters we mostly know in passing from in-game events.  There are internal, emotional beats that cannot easily be explored in the game, and the books are a way to build the world and the characters in a more introspective, slow-paced manner.  I like that.  (That’s not to say there are no action scenes, because there definitely are.)

Talanji, Jaina, Zekhan, and Anduin were all written well and sympathetically.  Maiev’s only in a couple scenes, but she felt off to me.  Nathanos was very in-character, in all his snide, sour glory.   Flynn and Mathias are great together.

The pacing was fine.  The descriptions were good, and it all felt grounded in the game world (i.e. landmarks, ambiance, the ridiculous amount of stairs in Daz’alor...)  Each of the Horde leaders got a moment or two in the spotlight.  Despite a fair amount of chapters about Anduin, Alleria, Turalyon, and Jaina, it still felt like a Horde-centric book to me.  Not that that’s a bad thing.

Prologue:  Gayness detected on page 8!  And it’s even something I kind of inadvertently predicted.  In my reaction post for Before the Storm I wrote, “ In this book alone, it would have been so easy to have that blacksmith bringing a helmet as a gift to his long-lost Forsaken husband instead of friend.”  That’s basically what we have here.  I don’t know if they were married, and neither were blacksmiths, but the Westfall moonshiner describes one of the Forsaken slain in Arathi as “the best man I ever knew and loved.”  Tada!  See how easy it was?  Add Jago x Wilmer to the growing list of LGBT rep in Azeroth.  (Even if they’re super minor characters in the long run, it’s still great to see.)

There might be some kind of parallel to be drawn between Alleria failing Anduin (by not finding/killing Sylvanas) and Nathanos failing Sylvanas (by not killing Bwonsamdi) but my brain is too overloaded from binge-reading to articulate it right now.  Both failed their king or queen, but both were also given nearly impossible tasks. 

Alleria and Turalyon are definitely being set up as antagonists.  We are clearly supposed to side with Jaina on this, and be uncomfortable (if not outright horrified) at their torture methods.  It’s especially disturbing how they use their respective void and light powers to accomplish their goals.  I mean, on one hand it’s great that both sides of the great cosmic divide can work together, and their marriage seems stronger than it was for awhile there, but yeesh...can you not torture people?  I know, ends justify the means, slippery slope, greater evil, blah blah, but still...that’s not okay.  It’s yet another sign that the Light is not necessarily good (or the void necessarily evil).

I welcome conflict within the Alliance, though.  That’s been the Horde’s thing for long enough.  Time to see how the blue side deals with its rifts.

In chapter 2 Nathanos is annoyed when a dreadtick flies by his head.  What, was it too similar to a bird for his liking?  Heh. 

All that time in Nazmir, and we didn’t get to see a single crawg!  Harumph.

It took three chapters and 39 pages to finally get something from Nathanos' perspective, and he was much more scarce going forward than I had hoped.  The bits we did get from his perspective were great and in-character, but I wanted to get into his head more.  Most of his scenes were from the POV of Sira or the troll villain instead, and while Apari was a good character I find Sira to be pretty one-dimensional. 

I kind of got paternal vibes from Nathanos toward Sira, though.  He was like, “I’ve been undead a lot longer than you; I know how to handle the bloodlust and such.  Get it out of your system at appropriate times but learn to control yourself.  There’s more to (un)life than slaughtering people.”  She herself, though, was just “Rawr, I hate everything and want to kill anything that moves.”  I mean, I get that she’s been through some traumatic stuff, but I didn’t find myself invested in her at all.

Page 42, as a bunch of trolls are about to be slaughtered:  "Hungry birds circled, expectant of a big meal, and Nathanos so hated to disappoint."  WHAT?  Nathanos wanted to do something nice for BIRDS?  I know, the phrasing fits with his dry, sarcastic sense of humor, but considering the running joke about him hating birds, it still made me go, “Huh?”

Chapter 5 (and later on, as it turns out):  Zekhan having a soft spot for kids is too precious for this world.

Page 51:  Thalyssra's eyes were "sparkling as she gazed across the room at Lor'themar."  Awwwwwww.   There was a surprising amount of ship fodder in this book overall, with Lor’themar x Thalyssra, Turalyon x Alleria, Fairshaw, and Zehkhan x Talanji all getting a moment or two (or more.) 

Chapter 6:  Anduin says, "Turalyon, take Alleria Windrunner and investigate these deaths."  You know, Alleria...YOUR WIFE?  I don't think you need to say her last name there, genius. 

While I’m being snarky about the editing, there were at least two times where the word “grieves” was used instead of “greaves.”  I spotted a couple other little things that a better editor (or one with more time, maybe it was rushed, I don’t know) would have caught.

Chapter 7:  More matter-of-fact LGBT inclusion for minor characters, this time a lesbian troll couple who want to marry.  Yes, thank you Blizzard, keep it up.

Chapter 8:  If you’re going to make the “Zappy Boy” nickname for Zekhan canon, having Bwonsamdi be the one to wink at the camera and use it was a great decision.  I can totally imagine him saying it.

We learn the name of Varok’s wife/Dranosh’s mother:  Remda.  Although I read elsewhere that the vision Zekhan saw of the Saurfang family in the afterlife was just Bwonsamdi’s B.S., it was still cool.

Chapter 13:  Nathanos wearing cologne?  Love it.  And it’s not even to cover up the rotting smell, because apparently his new body doesn’t stink like some undead; it just doesn’t smell like a living person, either, and some find it unnerving.  So he wears cologne.  That’s such a delightful little detail, and surprisingly considerate of him.

Sira complaining about bugs:  "We'll be eaten alive."  Uh no, you'd have to BE ALIVE for that to happen. Tsk.

Nathanos being called "the pale rider" makes me think of old cowboy movies.  Like, “You greenhorns better clear out; the Pale Rider is comin’ to town and there’s gonna be trouble.  Go wake up the sheriff.”  

Sira says that while on the voyage to Zandalar the dark rangers liked to tell the tale of how Nathanos was promoted to Ranger Lord by Sylvanas.  I'm surprised he lets them gossip like that!  His quests in vanilla made it seem he wanted to keep those parts of his past on the down-low, at least from the player.

Chapter 14:  Thrall's second kid is Rehze.  *blink*  Reh-zee?  Rez?  Ruh-zay?  I guess she’s not named after anyone.  After he named his son Durak (sort of after Durotan) I assumed he’d continue the pattern with kid #2.  Maybe she’s named after one of Aggra’s relatives.  (Later I read on Wowpedia that the author actually said she dislikes the “fan service” trend of naming children after other characters so she just picked a random orcish name.  I don’t think it’s fan service, because lots of real-life people do it, but okay.  Fair enough.)

Speaking of orcish names, there’s an orc page helping out the council named Gunk.  Like, what you clean out from under your fingernails after gardening.  Gunk.  LOL

Aww, that’s no fun...Maiev's wearing a cape trimmed in white fur, not daggers.  What happened to her impeccable/deadly fashion sense?

Chapter 16:  Zekhan starting to clap at Talanji's speech and then stopping and shrinking back when he realized no one else was applauding was so freaking adorable.

Chapter 17:  Fairshaw, full steam ahead!!!  Their chemistry is everything I hoped it would be.  Learning a little about Flynn’s tragic past was both fascinating and heartbreaking.  (We learned his mom’s name: Lyra Fairwind.  R.I.P.)

Chapter 18:  Proodmoore keep has a gallery with floor to ceiling oil paintings of the Proudmoore family, extended family, and beloved friends.  It now includes Anduin.  I can’t help thinking that, in a different timeline, Arthas’ portrait would have been there.

Will wonders never case?  Ji Firepaw actually gets to do stuff!!!  GASP!

"Thrall understood that to other humans Wrynn was said to be pleasing-looking, but to the orc, Anduin simply looked like a small, pink boy swallowed by clunky armor."  So it’s canon that Anduin is good-looking in-universe.  But LMAO at Thrall’s description.

Chapter 22:  From Shaw’s POV, "These odds ranked pretty low...  Maybe just above the time he had relied completely on a shoddy network of spies embedded in a cheese business."  OMG leave Elling Trias alone!  He did his best!  LOL

Shaw wanting to hang out in a mountain meadow and whittle bird calls (perhaps even with a special someone) was so touchingly normal.  That’s the kind of characterization that the books are so much better at than the game.

I actually like Bwonsamdi more after reading this.  Not that I disliked him before, but I didn’t have a strong sense of him due to not playing Horde as much in BFA.  He’s a well-done gray character:  not good, not evil, insightful but a smartass, part of the great cycle, out for himself but also taking his duties seriously (saving troll souls from the Maw.) 

I’m not entirely sure that we needed as much from Thrall’s POV as we got.  I mean, sure, he’s a familiar character with ties to a lot of others, so it was easy to drop him into situations, and his ties to Jaina made cross-faction communication easier, but he didn’t seem as relevant to the lore of Zandalar and the Shadowlands as some other characters.

Maiev seemed OOC, especially in the Stockades scene.  I know one of the themes of the book was “people change,” and I suppose I should be happy that she has a more moderate viewpoint nowadays, dialing back the Lust For Vengeance Meter from eleven to maybe a five or a six, but it didn’t feel like Maiev.  Especially because her message of “maybe don’t go overboard with this vengeance thing” was aimed at Tyrande, of all people, someone who Maiev has had quite legitimate reasons to dislike for a very, very long time.  I could see her maybe mellowing out a little in front of fellow Wardens, but Tyrande?  Eh, it didn’t feel right to me.

No surprises from Tyrande in this.  She’s still steely cold, vengeance-obsessed, consumed by anger.  Not that I blame her, but it’s not healthy.  I know we’ll be exploring her situation more in Shadowlands, so this was more of a reminder/reinforcement of where she is right now.  It was kind of funny how Thrall, Baine and Calia tried to talk to her and she just gave them the stink eye and the silent treatment, though.

I’m fine with Anduin exploring his dark side a bit more, as long as they don’t go overboard with it.  I like him as an earnest, good-hearted character.  It’s only natural to test your limits, though, especially in times of crisis.  Power corrupts, and he’s got plenty of it, both politically and magically, so I can understand Jaina and Mathias being a bit uneasy.  Add to that the increasing themes about the Light not being as benevolent as we originally assumed, and there’s potential for interesting plot there.  In the end I want Anduin to stay firmly on the side of good, empathy, compassion, etc., but a deviation into the shadows along the way isn’t a bad thing for the story.

I imagine every single person who read about Anduin sneaking off to the Lion’s Pride Inn in Goldshire smirked about that place’s reputation on certain RP realms.  I was surprised he didn’t find scantily-clad elves and draenei dancing on the furniture.  And then it turns out Jaina was there, too.  Awkward!

Why, oh why couldn’t we have had a scene with Anduin and Wrathion hanging out (incognito, of course) in a tavern?  That was their thing in MoP, and now with Anduin desperately wanting to get away from his duties for awhile and soak up some tavern ambiance it would have been perfect.  Let Anduin show off the best taverns Stormwind has to offer.  Even though Wrathion was as much a guest at the Tavern in the Mists as Anduin was, he acted like he owned the place and Anduin was his guest, so let them turn the tables and have Anduin play host.  There could be jokes about how he better not punch Wrathion again or they’ll get kicked out for starting a bar fight.  They could have still seen the young recruits, ran into Jaina, etc.  But Anduin really needs a buddy to hang out with right now.  

And you can’t tell me after Nya’lotha fell Wrathion just disappeared again and never at least visited Stormwind to tell grandiose tales about how he stabbed an Old God, it was so heroic, and he wasn’t scared at all, and those mean adventurers were so quick to believe he’d been corrupted, but he hadn’t, and did you know Azshara was there?  And then N’Zoth almost won but KERPOW LAZERS and oh Anduin you should have seen it, etc. etc. etc.

I should be used to being disappointed about Wrathion’s absence by now, but there are SO MANY MISSED OPPORTUNITIES!

Sigh.  Moving on.

Being exposed to spoilers meant I wasn’t fooled by it, but it was still a deft bit of writing to have the dark rangers drink poison when cornered by Horde soldiers, then mention Nathanos having a vial in his coat, which he drinks when defeated--making the unspoiled reader assume he’s killing himself--only for it to be a kind of liquid hearthstone attuned to Sylvanas.  Had I not known that he survived the book I would have freaked out there.

So, like, was Bolvar just sitting there on the ground awkwardly eavesdropping while Sylvanas and Nathanos talked/argued?  Or did he use that time to sneak away unnoticed?  LOL

Which brings us to the epilogue that’s caused so much hand wringing and wailing from my fellow Blightrunner shippers.  It wasn’t the openly sentimental interaction between them that I had hoped for, but I honestly didn’t read it as the doom of the ship.  A bump, at worst.

[If you’re not interested in the relationship between Nathanos and Sylvanas, or if you’re one of those people who simply hate his character, you can skip the rest of this post.]

First of all, Sylvanas had just broken the Helm of Domination.  That was a hugely significant thing to do, both for her personally and in the cosmic scheme of things.  Her state of mind at that moment had to have been in a turmoil.  So if she was a little distracted and tense, I think that’s quite understandable.

Second, I saw other fans being upset that she threatened/wanted to strike him.  That’s not how I read it at all.  “Sylvanas could strike him, scream and hollow out his soul, but it would not correct the failing.”  She’s not saying she wants to do that, just that she could.  The instinct to lash out in violence is ingrained in all the undead; death knights have to do it or they go mad.  So for her mind to go there in a moment of high emotion seems natural to me.  She doesn’t actually attack him or verbally/physically threaten him.  People say things like “I could have killed my brother for eating the last slice of cake” or “I could’ve strangled my co-worker when she spoiled the ending of the movie” and it’s not literal.

Third, she doesn’t say “go away, I never want to see you again.”  She says “Go where you will, Nathanos, but do not be idle” and “I expect you will return to me with means to prevent [Bwonsamdi’s] meddling.”  So essentially she’s saying, “Fine, go home, regroup, come up with Plan B, and if it’s not possible to destroy Bwonsamdi at least concentrate on countering him.”  Also note that she still considers the operation to be theirs, not just hers:  “This was a blow, but one she felt sure they could overcome.”  That tells me she expects to work with him in the future.

Fourth, and granted this is before she learns of his failure, but she’s clearly happy to have him there when he first arrives.  “’My champion,’ Sylvanas purred.  ‘Your timing could not be better.  Tell me of your victory as we take these first steps together.’”  She wanted to cross into the Shadowlands with him at her side.  Hell, that’s bridal imagery...crossing the threshold together, and all that.  The only reason she tells him to go is because his work isn’t done and she still needs him on Azeroth.  But she explicitly says “I expect you will return to me.” 

Fifth, in the line from her POV about how “the unjust ladder of their lives must be dismantled,” the “they” she’s referring to is all of the denizens of Azeroth, true, but I think there’s also a tinge of bitterness there as she looks back on her own life, and her life with Nathanos.  Destiny has not been kind to either of them.

Sixth, she says “My path lies ahead” as she prepares to cross into the Shadowlands.  It’s a reminder of the scale of the forces she is trying to manipulate.  When faced with the potential fates of all the souls in the universe, her own regrets are insignificant.  She can’t stay on Azeroth any longer, even if some part of her does want to just chill out on a beach somewhere with Nathanos and watch his blighthounds chase seagulls.  She thinks “It would not be easy, but then, her mission required great sacrifice.”  Like leaving him behind.

Even this part can be interpreted different ways:  “She heard the note of hope in his voice, fragile as a fledgling dropped from the next.”  Putting aside the humor of comparing bird-hating Nathanos to a fledgling, we don’t get a value judgment about the comparison.  Sylvanas doesn’t think about him sympathetically, wanting to protect him in a vulnerable moment, but she also doesn’t think, “Geez, what a pathetic weakling.”  It goes back to that bit in Warbringers about how she can’t kill hope.  And she can’t.  Here, again, no matter how bleak things are, no matter how displeased she is at his failure, he still has hope.  And she needs that, whether she believes it or not.

When she “flicked her fingers, as if ridding herself of a speck of muck” that can be interpreted as her thinking of him in a derogatory way, but she was also talking about Bwonsamdi in the same breath so I can choose to believe that’s who she was being dismissive of.

I don’t know.  I get that some of the language is discouraging.  She describes him as having “blubbering lips” and she’s definitely not happy with him.  But these two have been through a lot, and their bond has remained strong.  I’m sure this isn’t their first fight, or the first time he’s disappointed her.  This isn’t the end for them.  Just another bump on a very long highway they’ve traveled together.

...

OMG this has turned into a monster of a post, rambling all over the place.  I hope it’s coherent enough to follow.  I’m just in lore overload at the moment (and enjoying every second.)  I know I’m forgetting things I wanted to talk about, too, but I’m going to go ahead and post it as it is.

[trixcuomo]

Love Games

Up next on Desperate Alts’ Lives... Horde B celebrity Trixany Cuomo has finally pulled the lever to A-status, and now it’s like she’s fallen down into a black rabbit hole of gossip and dangerous glam, chasing her dreams. Is this it? Has Trix finally gone too far? One of her friends must be able to save her, but which are the right friends? Haris Pilton? Sig Nicious? Her Night Elf buddy Sharpen? Hopeless causes tend to want dark angels...

Jet black. Haris Pilton thought her once rival in all things, business, modeling, performing, climbing the Silvermoon City social ladder—Trixany Cuomo, soon to be Mrs. Sig Nicious—that Trixany would go with red for her own gossip closet. A cheery, and also dangerous color. But when they were done looking through Haris’s swatches months ago, under their new starlette truce of course, Trixany wanted her gossip closet in complete, knockout black.

Today, Trixany’s hand was on the lever, she just hadn’t pulled it yet this morning. First, she needed to gather all her targets. Haris’ pink knob was honestly so… odd. But Trixany chose a literal disco stick that reminded her of one of her favorite performers of all time. The part at the top was a classic disco ball with large tiles of glossy silver. The effect was going to take over the whole room whenever she was ready to ‘pull the lever!’ The first time she’d done it at Haris’ place was so fun, it was addicting. Yes, so wonderfully addicting.

Trixany crossed legs in her matching leather catsuit. The worker Gnomes with jumpsuits also piped in silver along the smart curves of their bodies? Still asleep. Trixany liked to get up before even they did.

She sat alone inside of the shell at the center of the room. Well, it was raised up for now, or else she wouldn’t be able to see or hear anything. The noise-cancelling, black ASMR shell-that-was-totally-not-like-any-other-famous-villain’s-personal-sanctuary-globe-thing-for-legal-reasons had its uses, just not right now. STNLAOFVPSGTLR or Stan’s Laff Vapors Get’er was a fascinating piece of technology engineered for relaxing starlettes exclusively. So it was perfect for a certain Horde B celebrity. Gotta love quirky Gnomish technology. The laugh vapors weren’t working so at the moment. They were also supposed to help her forget her stressors. Running low… White steam raised from the top of the shell and escaped through the gear-like teeth around the edges, wafting to the ceiling.

Gnomish technology to make you think, ten times, twenty times faster. Consider your options and get maybe twelve moves ahead of your opponent before they’re even out of bed, or grabbed their champagne brunch around 2 pm server… It was like farming for rares, from home, fast, and on felweed! But it was your frenemies you were felling.

Anyway…

The black control screens all around flickered with silent pictures of Trixany wannabes with their rip-off looks or performances, rival divas secretly being watched while they slept—and before you judge, Trixany felt justified; some of them were up in their own gossip closet war rooms, scheming against her even at this hour—and if you’re a true Team Trixany fan, then you also know about the runway fashion show footage Trixany had been streaming all week. All were designs from the newly launched, joint Haris-Trix fashion line. Haris had backed it financially, Trixany had endorsed it, done the leg work promoting and wearing some of the showstoppers. They had been raking in the gold over it until recently. Both their fandoms, for once, were united on the fashion line. Well, not all of the screens were filled with saucy models on catwalks. Trixany was also observing how each new outfit was being received in the market as it was launched, while simultaneously keeping an eye—with her special lace-lensed fashion goggles—for any rip-offs. New clothing that ripped off her rip-offs, if Trixany was every forced to be very honest about how she and Haris got all the designs—but that intel would only get forced out, by Goblin lawyers tougher than her own, in some inter-factional Azeroth court of law. Technically, they weren’t stealing other people’s ideas unless they got caught…

“I can’t stand this…”

Trixanys thoughts were moving more rapidly than she could speak them or even keep track of on her own. Inside the white-hot shell, little electronic flickerings along a web of wires and lights carried them away instantly, recorded them. The rest of the room was dark, so dark… But inside, Trixany was alone with her thoughts. Just merely thinking that she might sue someone for stealing her brand was stored in a databank the moment it occurred to her. A list of commands that would be sent to the ends of Azeroth to the Goblin lawyers, Horde or Alliance pop icons. (Don’t let them tell you Thrall doesn’t consider himself a Horde A celebrity… his gossip closet was rumored to be done over in the hides of his slain enemies, where no one could see of course.) And of course there were a clutch of thugs ready to ‘handle’ anyone normal out there without real connections. Quick, dirty, cheap.

That was the last bit of advice Trixany grudgingly took from Haris Pilton before she mastered the art of ‘gossip watching’ for herself. Before the student became the master. Now, on Screen Five, Trixany observed Haris in her bubblegum pink dressing robes having tea with her breakfast. Actually Haris had been doing that, and elegantly, for a while. A stray thought wondered if Haris had somehow found out about Trixany’s global network of hidden scrying orbs and had set up video loop clips at certain parts of the day when she didn’t want to be observed. And they were supposed to be the best of business partners…

A new, bright white bead of light raced around inside the shell and disappeared behind Trixany’s black chair. Screen Ninety-Eight suddenly flickered on and pulled up a list. White text against a lovely, rich dark screen. The words ‘Check up on Haris, the brat…’ already printing on a new line.

On mornings like this one, Trixany felt more Gnomish tech than woman. Sunlight… what a nice memory. Though they said something odd with the Scourge was going on outside these days. Maybe that was the real reason profits from their fashion line were slowing down? Who knew?

Trixany was a Blood Knight, had the skills of any paladin, she should have a lot of work to do with the Knights of the Blood Nexus, shouldn’t she? Shouldn’t Lady Liadrin call on her then? And beyond that, when was the last time she’d gone for a stroll—well, without Silvermoon paparazzi around her and Sig. And Sig? Sig Nicious, her fiancée… he kept postponing their wedding.

“You’re my butterfly, but it’s taking you ages to come out of your cocoon, do you understand? You’re not ontop of this celebrity stuff, Trix. I love you, but you’re just not there yet. You and Haris Pilton are friends now, why don’t you ask her for more advice? We need this to be a marriage of equals.”

Then Trixany’s own voice, it felt more like it haunted her above the constant jealous, scheming thoughts, it resurfaced. “No. I can’t do this…”

Trixany inhaled deeply of the white vapors, shut her eyes, shut off her deeper consciousness. Just a few more hours of this and she would finally be caught up with everyone else. Maybe ahead.

Caught up… Didn’t she used to like running, catching up with friends on long sunny walks? That time Sharpen took her to Highmountain, hiking so far her calves felt they would burn from sun and walking, she swore to him that they would, but he was too far ahead to hear her. Hear her catching up, catching her breath… that adorable fool.

A Night Elf man was suddenly there in her mind. Sharpen had carefully braided hair, long braids that fell over his broad shoulders. First in green, then in bright blue—he was wearing a “CYANS HAVE MORE FUN” t-shirt in one of her memories—and at last, his hair washed to a rich pink in her mind. Trixany knew all the shades Sharpen was trying these days, she’d kept track of them all, knew the brand, the shade, how many were left in stock…

Screen Fifty-Two flickered on, white lines over a dark surface, suddenly filling with numbers and a silent white web of locations united by lines on a map as a simple display of Alliance lands started to slide by. Trixany had wanted to know what her Night Elf friend’s new hair color would be, just a whim—but the gossip closet was already running the numbers, making a mathematical projection. Based on the number of colors left in the shops Sharpen frequented, the price point he usually aimed for, the favorite colors he was usually wearing.

“Forecast… 90 percent…Black.”

“Black? Really? Sharpen’s such an upbeat guy.”

Trixany hated knowing that. It depressed her. So her friend, who never had much money, who was just curious enough to try new things, not that he’d do it for a living and consult someone like she would… Sharpen was going to run into a wall soon with all the other options he’d tried, because cyan was his preferred shade of all the blues, and he’d already gone with the closest shade of pink-red her liked on his spectrum, and going back to green was too close to his natural color… The machine was printing all this detail as part of its proof… So he would feel bold—think himself just as bold as when he chose pink--and settle on black to surprise his friends. Black like her gossip closet. Black like… some big, empty hole. Trixany could no longer think it through. So she already knew what he was going to do? No surprises, no spontaneity? No reason to talk to him. She no longer had to see him to know what he was doing. It wasn’t required. He was a blip on a screen. And when was the last time she’d spoken to Sharpen, the real Sharpen?

What had he told her? Something silly about animals. Her eye twitched, she curled a fist as she remembered it. “Spiders aren’t supposed to be caught in their own webs, Trix. All these morsels you’ve ever wanted… they’re right there around you. Fixed in your web, you can have them all. But you’re still not happy. Shouldn’t you know why not? Can’t you tell? The old you would have just handled it, she doesn’t—or didn’t take anyone’s crap, whether from some monster down in a dungeon or… the well-dressed blonde bombshell kind.”

“Wait, do you mean Haris Pilton or Siggy?”

Sharpen shook his head at her, “Who are you, anymore?”

And what had she said in response to that? Sig was away from the dinner table at the moment, taking a call on his comm. “I don’t eat bugs, Sharpen.”

“No, but you do like to slay things. You like to find targets and take them out. Fix things for yourself and people, for the world, hell—for the Horde, however you think that still helps thew world. You have a sense of justice, or you did. You like to sit down after a battle, smile at how you’ve helped. But now you just look miserable. You even look unwell—”

“MAYBE BECAUSE I DON’T EAT BUGS LIKE SOME STUPID NIGHT ELF!”

Sharpen and Trixany hadn’t spoken to each other since. It was a bad, tragic gaffe to make at a busy, high-tone Dalaran restaurant. It was like… it built up and built up from… she didn’t know where. And then, like a volcano, the stupid, stupid senseless things she said just exploded out of her. Violent in its own way. It blew a hole clear through a friendship.

Trixany rubbed at the bridge of her nose. That time she and Sig took Sharpen out to dinner in Dalaran… Because Trixany had missed him. Because Trixany had hopped on a motorcycle and blown out of her own engagement party in Silvermoon City, at Sig’s place. Sig’s fancy place with all his perfect friends, all that flawless life. The pressure should have been off, she’d made it. She wasn’t a B-woman. She was A-grade. Like meat. No, an alpha, on top. She was a singer, and he was a singer too. Both of them were good people, actually decent. And he liked her, genuinely. It really felt like the lead singer of the Elite Tauren Chieftans loved her, truly, so why was she so distressed? Why did it feel like she couldn’t get a breath at times…

Trixany inhaled again, breathed deeply a few more times though it felt like she was panicking. “Why! Why is this happening to me?”

This was all she ever wanted, just like Sharpen had said. But it felt like things were hooked into her instead. Bleeding her dry. Trixany always assumed she would feel… filled up.

Filled up with things.

Things.

About forty models of all races, Orc, Goblin, Forsaken, Draenei, Gnomes, women and men of all races strutted in time across her control screens. Surely, they all had different music at their particular fashion shows. But fashion models all seemed to have the same unnerved strut. Now she saw it. They were all terrified of falling, of looking stupid. But they were charging through it while ignoring themselves. Completely disregarding their own fears, that they were hungry or tired, tired of all of it. Or, even if they loved what they did, it didn’t show in their faces nor their movements.

Maybe later. When it was all off, they could be themselves and just smile. Nobody smiled that they liked it while on stage in front of everyone, selling what was on their bodies. First rule of modeling. Since she got her start… in Goblin Gentleman’s Magazine of all places, that was always the rule. She would know. It’s not about you. It’s about what’s on you. Not what’s in you.

Never in.

“What if I’m just a pig inside?” Trixany frowned. “Scrying orb, play Gaga—”

The intercom interrupted what she was saying. A metallic sort of gnome’s voice said, “Visitor for Miss Cuomo.” Trixany hadn’t the heart to change her name over to Mrs. Nicious yet, when things honestly weren’t going well in that area of her life. He kept calling her his ‘butterfly’ yet she was still being treated like some slimy bug stuck in its pod… cocoon  thing.

“What level?”

“Popularity level three—”

“Oh, well then I don’t have the time.”

“Security level 50. Guest is Coco Cuomo.”

Her step-sister. Well what did Coco want? She rarely visited. “Let her in. And I still want you to play Gaga. Play Swine.”

As soon as the door slid open and the short green Goblin calling herself Coco Cuomo looked up and heard her new theme music, she frowned.

“Yeah, I know who’s a swine alright.” The little lime-colored Goblin girl smirked at her Blood Elf sister. Trixany stuck out her tongue.

“Um, can you at least turn down Gaga squealing out that ‘I’m so disgusting’ down a smidge? I came with some important business, you know.”

“Well, I should have assumed it would be about that. More Kaja-Cola crap? I thought I made it clear I was done with them--”

“Yeah right, when they were the ones who fired you? And who are yous, hangin’ out in hea like Darth Vader himself? Mrs. Hot-shot Sig Nicious herself, I see.”

“It’s not technically named for him so I can’t get sued—”

“Enough of this nonsense!” Coco threw her hands up. “This is exactly why I’m hea, you’re totally obsessed! When is your wedding even? Unless you’re really that low ya gonna invite the whole family and not me.”

Trixany snapped her sass-mouth shut, for now. “Sig and I are doing our best to make this… adjustment. I’m not used to being so famous.”

Coco just stared at her Blood Elf step-sister for a while.

“Swiiiiiiiine! Swiiiiiiiiiiiine!” The music started to rev up as if something was about to explode in that black gossip chamber Trixany had sealed herself in, like an enchanted tomb.

“Paint her face and, paint his face and, be a swine for… just the weekend!”

Coco erupted with new emotion, “People are dyin’ out thea, Trixany! And you’re in here plotting some… starlette’s destruction? I been trying and callin and sendin’ messenger pigeons up here for a week almost, so finally I had to come myself. I thought somethin’ real bad happened to you, all I wanted was to get you to hand over the damn Kaja-Cola Fiesta Lime contract for a damn good cause, I don’t care if you fell out with the Kaja-Cola Girls. I need your surplus stash a’ cans!”

Trixany just blinked at her. Three screens over Coco’s head started running a program, but kept coming up with repeating blank lines.

“Trixany, you really haven’t heard? You’ve truly been ignorin’ all the sufferin! We’re trying to FEED thirsty people on the front lines against the Scourge!”

“Oh. Well… I had heard whispers of that trending.”

“Trending? You’re supposed to be a PALADIN! Scourge slayer by birth or something. But you’re out here ruinin’ lives of the uppercrust like there ain’t a bottom to the pie—what’s happened to my sista! What is WRONG with you?”

“…You can’t feed thirsty people?”

“But I can bust up a thirsty trick!” Coco brandished an arclight spanner at Trixany.

“What did you just call me?? And how did you come in here armed?”

Now Coco was screaming it, “I don’t have a sista anymore. I can’t take it, I can’t stand it! You’re goin ta the Shadowlands to help with the fight, if I gotta killa ya and send you there myself! Then, Coco charged Trixany’s villainess globe, making her wild Kezani warcry.

“Yer just a pig inside a Blood Elf body! Time for you to squeal out!!”

[songsandsorcery]

Passion: What Makes A Gnome

Presented by Fizridge Flimflam of The Darkmoon Faire at the Gnomish Cultural Exchange

     Fizridge shuffles through a handful of index cards, a pair of uncharacteristically nervous eyes scanning the text as he shifts his weight from foot-to-foot. After a moment the gnome pockets them, clasps his hands together, and regards the gathering crowd with a smile before calling out in a voice that carries.

     “Ladies an’ gentlemen, boys an’ girls, allow me to welcome you to my lecture! Lemme ask ya a question: whaddya think of when I ask ya about gnomes? Probably engineers, right? Well, what if I told you there’s more to gnomes than tinkerin’ away with nuts and bolts?”

     “I ain’t, uh, what most people would call a gnome’s gnome. Never tinkered a day in my life. Never seen Gnomeregan with my own eyes, neither. Can strum a lute far better than hold a spanner, but I do got one thing: passion. Passion, my friends, is what makes a gnome.”

     “Let’s start with a history lesson. ‘fore I could so as much lift my head my mom was busy fillin’ my head with stories of the Titans an’ their creations. You heard it here first, folks: before we were buildin’ trams and inventin’ ice-cream, we were what were called “mechagnomes.”

     “Now, see, I ain’t talkin’ about the mechagnomes you see ‘round now. Once upon a time, we were titan-forged constructs made by Mimiron, the Titan of Creation himself! Mechagnomes served as custodians, riflin’ through databanks an’ ensurin’ that everythin’ was primed an’ ready to keep Mimiron at his creative best! Well, before the Curse of Flesh made us who we are today.”

     “But that’s the key there, folks: creativity. It’s hardwired into us. The Curse of Flesh may’ve shaken things up a little bit, but that code, that directive, that DRIVE to protect the passion to create, it’s still rattlin’ around in there. It’s what makes us, well, us!”

     “Accordin’ to Miss Dresindra Darkspark, we gnomes are hard-wired for thinkin’! She states that our thought patterns lead towards profiles that are future an' solution focused. The proof is in the puddin’, folks: we gnomes are thinkers AND doers!”

     “Great minds think alike, but where do we differ? Doctor Sigmund Mindticker asks that question in his book. A gnome’s brainwaves resolve quicker on average, leadin’ to quicker thinkin’ and problem-solving! We’ve got a whole lotta brainpower to do a whole lot WITH!”

     Fizridge looks to his partner in question in the audience, locking eyes with the doctor and giving him a cheeky smirk and a wink. His brother calls out beside him, exclaiming: “Yeah! We think good!” Fizridge manages a chuckle in turn, and holds up his finger. Wait. Hold up. Put a pin in that thought.

     “Let’s circle back around. Creation. That’s an awful broad topic, ain’t it? Sure, engineering’s it’s own sorta creation, but it doesn’t stop there. We gnomes inherited that desire to invent an’ build, no matter what it is. Idleness is infuriatin’ for us. We’re programmed to contribute to this world, to see Azeroth as one big machine that needs sprucin’ up.”

     “Take me for example. I ain’t no tinker, but I could sing a song so fierce it’d reach Kalimdor. Music’s it’s own science, when you really think about it. Measures can be broken down to beats, beats exist on a scale … it all comes back around to nice, safe numbers. Numbers my brain jus’ so happens to be real good at workin’ with. I’m takin’ that natural strength and applyin’ it to somethin’ else.”

     “Better yet, we gnomes are hardwired to work together. See, the funny thing about robots? They operate on a network. It’s real easy to get an awful lot done when yer on the same page as everyone else, ain’t it? It’s why we play so nice with other folks, gnome or not: that natural desire to work together, to be a team, it’s still there!”

     “So what does this all mean? Why am I makin’ such a big fuss about this? In a world where folks can fling firebolts an’ build entire tramways, it’s easy to feel like you ain’t doin’ much with yourself. But that’s just it: it’s that passion, that inherent drive to make somethin’ out of nothin’, that sets us apart.”

     “I’m gonna keep it real with you folks. It can be a real slog chummin’ it up with other gnomes. I’m one dull spanner in a workshop full’a shiny new gadgets. But when I see that spark in someone’s eyes, or hear their breath catch when they tell me a particularly excitin’ bit of information. Well, that’s universal, ain’t it? It’s an amazin’ thing, that I can connect with someone so outta my wheelhouse, simply ‘cause we share that passion. It’s what makes me a gnome.”

     “It all comes back around to that. Why, if that ain’t enough for ya, jus’ look at our Mechagonian cousins. A whole island apart from us, an’ yet that inherent, gnomish desire to express oneself, to be an individual, is what we fought for, together.”

     “New Titanism asks: why? Why didn't the Titans change us back? It is the Gift of Flesh, not a curse, that has allowed us to free ourselves from our prime directive an' color this world not as machines, but as individuals. The Titans chose not to act, not to control, not to interfere ... but to observe the greatest gift they ever gave us: free-will.”

     Fizridge‘s eyes fall over the gathered crowd, looking to each face in turn with a look of solemn resolve. After a moment a smile flickers across the gnome’s face, reaching his cheeks with a genuine warmth.

     “So let's give 'em somethin' to look at, folks.”

[stories-by-mem]

Skyshot: A Railo Story

001

“How does it feel to be the top arm’s dealer for a third consecutive year?”

That was the question Railo heard the most when she was approached by the various business men and women, or noble clients who all attended this vanity party. Annually, top dogs in the black market chip money into a pot to put on a networking party to connect resources. It was always an opportunity to gain new clients. Since the founding of this exclusive party, they had begun to compete in sharing their numbers, to see who was on top in all of Azeroth; the reward was nothing more than fame.

In a grand banquet hall within Dalaran, provided by a collection of nobles, there were endless platters of delicacies and delicious food from across the world that a normal household could not even afford one plate of. Bottles of expensive wines and craft liquors decorated the mirrored wall of the full bar. Chandeliers, large windows with bespoke curtains, and the finest hand crafted tables and chairs dotted the room, and the marble floor had a large, round, maroon carpet in the center. It was the epitome of luxury. A class of upscale business folk and nobles who made their funds on illegal means. Champaign glasses clinked together in toasts, and chatter made the ambience with scattered laughter. It was a grand time of mirth and whimsy, producing a real sense of comradery.

They all hated each other. It was a masquerade of smiles and laughs, but most of them had designs to make the others crumble at their feet. Many of them had already put hits out on one another. They each wanted the other to lose, so that they themselves could gain more clientele.

While they all congratulated Railo for taking the number one spot for a third year, they all wanted to see her grovel at their feet. Her and the ever conniving Torello, who had been an aid to her over the past three years. With his aid, she reached the top, but it was he who benefitted the most out of it all. While she was making the climb to the top, he was still collecting crumbs that fell from the table.

She had grown pretty fond of him over the years, and he had always been fond of her.

Railo stood chatting with an old client about an upcoming device she was working on, making promises to give them first dibs. A sin’dorei, she wore a gorgeous red dress that laid elegantly upon the curves of her frame, her crimson hair was as the wind, winding in waves and soft curls, framing her face which she spent an hour touching up with make-up. It wasn’t often that she put so much effort into her appearance, but it was all part of the game to look the part of wealth. She even dared to show some skin on her back, and on her right side where the dress parted up to her thigh. Whatever it took to flex on her haters, she did it.

She certainly caught attention, and most prominently, Torello’s attention. He himself was a rather stunning sin’dorei man. He certainly knew how to look the part of wealth as he donned a black tuxedo with an expensive stitch count, and a red bow tie to compliment Railo’s favorite color. His face was studded with a trimmed beard, and his stark black hair fell down to his shoulders, brushed back. He approached her from the other side of the room.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he said, placing a hand on Railo’s lower back, “I had to interrupt to say just how stunning Lady Skyshot looks.”

“Oh by all means, she is absolutely the main attraction,” The client said, chuckling heartily. “We will keep in touch, Railo. You enjoy yourself, now.” With that said, he dismissed himself.

Railo, with a quirked brow, turned to face Torello. Despite any attempt she made at looking upset, intimidating, or angry, she couldn’t hide the coy smirk that graced her lips. “Someone’s being rather bold, aren’t they?”

He stepped in closer, and she crossed her arms, but he spoke in a low tone that forced her to draw a little nearer. “Who’s the bold one here? The one who’s holding the lady in a gorgeous dress, or the lady in a gorgeous dress who’s letting a charming man hold her?”

“Careful.” She warned lightheartedly. “Last time you touched me there, I threatened to cut your hands off.”

In quick response, Torello wrapped his other arm around her waist, and she uncrossed her arms to lay them on his shoulders. “You say that,” He grinned, “Yet I still have my hands.”

She rolled her eyes and giggled softly. They began to sway from side to side, dancing to the romantic tune the hired band played. “Smartass. I’ll let you slide this time.”

“Oh, I’m beginning to think you like this.”

“No, you’ve just been chasing this tail to the point of delusion.”

“If being delusional let’s me hold you like this, I’d gladly lose my mind, little fox.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I should have never told you about that childhood nickname. Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll either call you that, or call you mine. Can you pick one for me?” He said, leaning in closer.

Her heart began to flutter, though she made no outward indication of this. Or so she convinced herself. It was probably obvious in the way her radiant emerald eyes flicked away, and her cheeks took on a warm blush.

Uninvited, but certainly not unwelcome, closed the gap and planted a kiss on her cheek, to which she responded with an even deeper blush. He had never done that before. He was certainly being bolder than ever. Nearly speechless, she turned her face to look at him.

“You must have a death wish or something.” She whispered.

“I only wish for one thing right now.” He said, lifting a hand from her waist to brush some hair behind her ear and hold her cheek. She pressed into it instinctively.

Speechless at this point, Railo was left staring at him. There was something on her heart that she had no words to express, but her eyes told the story of a woman who wanted to be shown this kind of love all the time. Perhaps she was ready this time. Perhaps she could put her fears and uncertainties away and trust him with her vulnerabilities. She tipped her chin up slightly, but just enough to give him the hint.

Eyes closed and heart ablaze, she felt their lips touch. The banquet hall turned into her own bedroom, and a romantic ballroom dance took a vulnerable and passionate turn.

It was a night of many firsts, and a night that would alter the course of Railo’s entire life. She would never forget it, and would carry the mark for as long as she lived.

[pyraelia]

Send “💓” and I’ll tell you how I think a romantic relationship between our muses would go -- For KHAERIS, because the tipsy ladies all want to know

Ah, a mess in the making! 

Early on I think it’d be fine, they’re both very affectionate ladies who get on like a house on fire and they both enjoy being doted on to an extent. They’d probably soak up each other’s attention and bask in that until Pyraelia’s general inexperience and light emotional immaturity start to really manifest. 

I don’t think Khaeris would want for travel or adventure. Pyraelia’s work with the Magistry doesn’t trap her anywhere and as a mage she has access to the portal network set up around Azeroth; They could hang out in a new spot every weekend, until they got tired of it -- and I think it would take them a while to get tired of it. 

However, I think some of the issues Khaeris currently has around intimacy and her self-worth would be exacerbated by Py’s general disinterest in sex. That��s not something Pyraelia’s going to understand at all, and with the aforementioned inexperience she wouldn’t really know how to handle it. 

Not to mention they’re both fairly selfish people; Pyraelia’s spent her whole life getting whatever she wanted, so Khaeris not falling into her expectations of what their relationship should be like would sour things pretty quickly for both of them. 

They should never have a romantic relationship. 

Thanks @kharrisdawndancer! 

[enigmatic-elegance]

🔥🔥

1. I wish Gnomes were seen as less of a joke, and it’s a fault of the community really. Serious Gnomes are really hard to find. Shout out to @summysparklesprocket for making one of the best Gnomes I’ve ever encountered. Even my own Lissmac is often completely cast aside as a joke without anyone ever bothering to see there is a network of complexity behind that character.

And it’s a shame because a lot of people -do- RP Gnomes as a joke. They make them just run around and mess with people and do dumb shit because ‘lol look at the funny Gnome!’ Makes it really hard to play a Gnome as a complex character and be taken seriously. Again, experience talking here.

2. Anyone who knows me knows my opinion on this. Can we stop this trend of RPing Draenei as dumbasses? I won’t even touch on the overt sexualization of the race because horny people are gunna horny and I get that. But even non-sexualized Draenei are still so often RPed as fucking morons.

The Draenei may not understand certain cultural aspects, I get that. Think of it like when you visit another culture. You often have little idea what’s going on, but you still make strides and understand the general principal. But why in the world would a Draenei not understand that you wear pants in public? Pants are not a new concept to the Draenei after arriving on Azeroth. Why would a Draenei not understand that the reason you can not ‘see sky’ in Ironforge is because you are -underground- or -indoors-? There is a difference between being culturally illiterate and a flat out idiot.

The Draenei are not, by and large, completely stupid. They grasp the general concepts of life, spacial awareness, and social interaction. As much as it might be fun to have your Draenei dance on a bar table naked, try not to do it because she ‘does not know any better lol look at the stupid Draenei’. She probably would know better. Most Draenei would.

I could go on for hours about this, and have. But I’ll cut myself off here.

[shadowsblades]

Dustwallow Marsh

@anonymous // world of warcraft zone asks – accepting

Dustwallow Marsh: how does your muse cope with tragedy? do they allow themselves to grieve, or are they extremely guarded?

         Valeera’s has two responses to tragedy. The first is avoidance. When Quel’thalas was invaded by the Scourge and her parents were murdered, Valeera’s (eventual) solution was to run away to Kalimdor. Her solution to the pains of arcane withdrawal was to siphon more arcane, then fel (thereby delaying her suffering). And her solution to withdrawing from fel and being tormented with visions of her dead parents by the dreadlord possessing her, was suicide.

         It is only when Valeera is cornered by a tragedy she cannot escape from that she faces how she feels – but not in a healthy way. Her grief manifests in violent fury. Although she was always very reactive and defensive, I think the fact that this response has not diminished can be attributed to the people Valeera predominantly interacts with. 

         It’s essential to realise that Valeera has not had any consistent parental figures since around the age of 10. She also has very limited positive and supportive social interaction until she met Broll and Varian when Rehgar bought her to be a gladiator. Considering that the trio were specifically chosen for their rage, I seriously doubt either Broll or Varian were modelling healthy coping strategies for Valeera to emulate, meaning that her social network is comprised completely of people who have the exact same problem she does. 

        Valeera is taughtover and over again to deal with her pain through violence. Rehgarencourages Broll, Varian, and Valeera to “channel that fire” into fighting inthe arena. Later, when Valeera attempts to speak with Broll about thefrustration she feels being addicted to fel, she isn’t allowed to explore or dwellon those feelings – she’s interrupted, her concerns are dismissed, and she’stold that she shouldn’t blame herself. Broll emphasises that how she deals with what happened to her “matters”. But when Valeera tries to tell Broll howscared she is of the curse that has been placed on her, she’s ignored. Then,Broll allows Valeera to join the battle with himself, Varian, and Thargasagainst the Dark Iron dwarves at Thandol Span, reasoning that it will “give hera focus beyond her own pain”. 

          Essentially, the message she receives is that sheneeds to deal with her pain, and that she should do this by fighting ratherthan talking. 

        But it gets evenworse. When her addiction to fel becomes too overwhelming for the others todeal with, Valeera is locked in a tower and left there. Although Broll andVarian have good intentions and are correct that Valeera in her currentstate would endanger their quest into Blackrock Depths, treating the real pain sheis suffering through as an inconvenience, a liability,is a terrible message to send her. Moreover, she is rewarded for dealing with her grief on her own —-– it is only whenshe professes that she’s “okay now” that she receives physical affection fromBroll. 

          So not only is she taught to deal with her grief through anger andviolence, but she needs to deal with it alone rather than burdening anyone elsewith it. The few other times we see Valeera grappling with her emotions, thatmessage is reinforced – Varian tells her to “dry her eyes” because they havethings to do. As a consequence of this, Valeera later downplays the sorrow shefeels as being “trivial” and tells Aegwynn “you don’t have to worry”.

        It’s hard toimagine that Valeera doesn’t internalise this message or that she is able to growout of it. Once Valeera is living in Stormwind, the fact of her being a bloodelf child playing advisor, guard, and spy for the High King of the Alliance, tightlyconstrains her ability to be vulnerable with anyone, even if she was that wayinclined. Varian is still her only friend, but given that he isn’t even the bestfather to Anduin, I doubt he was readily available to talk to Valeera about herfeelings, especially when she isn’t forthcoming about them. If anything, the political culture in Stormwind probably cultivated in her the belief that emotions like grief are weak andexploitable, encouraging her to hide how she really feels at all times.

        As a blood elf, Valeera also extremely prideful and the years she spent surviving in Quel’thalas on her own made her self-reliant and thus unlikely to ask anyone for help. It wounds her pride to be viewed as weak or vulnerable or in need of aid. She survived for a very long time on her own, and at a very young age, so it is inconceivable to her that she wouldn’t continue to do so.

        In World of Warcraft, wedon’t see enough of Valeera to know whether she has learned to regulate her emotionsbetter. As well, no new tragedy befalls her —— until Varian is killed at theBroken Shore. We don’t get any insight into Valeera’s reaction to this, but Idon’t imagine she actually talked toanyone about it. She would have been there for Anduin to comfort him, but considering that (1) he’s justlost his father, (2) he’s just become the High King of the Alliance, and (3) Valeerahas known him since he was a child and hence isn’t accustomed to speaking tohim like that, I seriously doubt she would have unloaded anything on Anduin. Brollmight have returned to Stormwind for the funeral, but apart from him (andexcept in my stuff with @lightsblade) there isn’t anyone else for Valeera todiscuss her feelings with. I imagine she’s furious at Sylvanas,  and that she also blamesherself for not going to the Broken Shore with Shaw.

        To the best of myknowledge, Valeera wasn’t involved in any of the big events in Azeroth untilLegion, and I think it’s tellingthat it is only after Varian’s death that she does get involved by joining the Uncrowned against the BurningLegion —— and it’s certainly no coincidence that the form of herinvolvement is to investigate why theAlliance didn’t receive accurate intel regarding the size of the Burning Legion’sforces, and no coincidence that she fights demons herself. She is coping with tragedythe only way she knows how ——- achieving retribution while physicallyattacking the cause.

         tl;dr: Valeera avoids grieving if possible, and responds with anger and violence if she’s forced to confront her feelings. She is very unlikely to share her pain with anyone or even reveal that she’s hurting.

[elaianna]

The Ripples of War

War.

It hungered, it called. It was no longer a mere whisper on the wind. It was here. What happened in Darnassus was felt throughout Azeroth. The ripples having reached far across the sea to the Eastern Kingdoms where only some survivors had managed to reach refuge.

How many were lost?

Elaianna dreaded to think of the numbers, the lives. Not to mention, the lives that would be lost in the months to come from such a war. Should they be fortunate enough for it to only last so long.

History taught her that such hopeful thinking was foolish.

Barrowfield’s location was perilously close to the Undercity. The additional men in arms that she had received in trade through Edric Davice were a bolster to her numbers, but would even that be enough to defend her people? Would that buy enough time for the civilians to get to the emergency network that had been built beneath the ground at her former husband’s request? Would that be enough time to get magi down there to portal the civilians away to the capital? If so, who would protect those men and women on the fronts? No one. They were the defense, and a defense Elaianna had wrongly hoped would never be needed.

Closing her eyes as the ocean’s waves washed over her feet, submerged in the soft sand of the eastern coast, Elaianna took in a deep breath of the briny air to breath in a sense of calm. The ocean had always been therapeutic to her, but some worries were not so easily washed away. Especially worry over her family.

Elaianna had already put things in motion to move her and her family to Kul Tiras, to the Stormhollow Duchy. Her official ‘coming home’ after inheriting it was long overdue. Kul Tiras kept itself out of the petty wars between Horde and Alliance, ever since their Admiral fell on the shores of Kalimdor. She had such high hopes that war would not touch her children there. That they would not have to witness it’s ugly face.

"You've landholdings here, your Grace- whether you yourself reside in Kul Tiras or not, they will call."

Yet if Elaianna didn’t take care of her people, there would be war of more than one kind. She had more than just Kul Tiran people to protect. She had the people of Barrowfield, Alliance people. She had Alliance lands, and was an ally of the Alliance, while the Proudmoore Admiralty had her allegiance. It put her in an uncomfortable position. If she were to withdraw entirely, to leave Barrowfield without proper protections, she would be dooming those people, the people she had lived with for years after coming to the Eastern Kingdoms. People that Eryn had trusted her to look after when she gave her the lands.

Opening her eyes, Elaianna looked over her shoulder, up over the cliff side. Her eyes squinted as she examined the beacon, brows knit together in consideration. Would the beacon, the bolstered security of the lands, the underground system, and the harbour, be enough? What more could she do?

Looking back over the ocean, Elaianna’s gaze focused on the swells. If she aided Barrowfield too much, if she aided the war too much, leaving the people of Stormhollow to go without, she’d face a war within her own homeland. She’d face a war of the people against her. A war that would effect not only her, but her family. Her husband, and worse... Her little girls.

"I saw men and women clamoring for blood, now that day it was for a man they hated far worse than you because it was recent and noticeable- wars breed famine, loss, poverty...Someone has made a brazen attempt on your life once, your Grace. When they grow hungry because you provide aid to the Alliance, when they are forced to suffer, how long will it take for one man to become a mob? Any change, is a bad change. Staff, war- perception disarms very little when matched against steel."

Her stomach twisted to think of it. To consider the danger she placed her family in no matter what she did.  Inaction would breed disaster. Action would breed disaster. It was impossible to feel any sensation other than that of drowning. As if she had shoes of cement, pulling her under, her limbs twisted and tied about, confining, making her aware of any which way she tried to reach out. Each move she made had consequences. Yet making no move was a more severe one.

So enthralled in her own thoughts, she hadn’t heard the approach of boots in the sand, nor the ruffle of her handmaiden’s dress as she curtsied to greet the new arrival. Even their words were lost on Elaianna as she stared with a listless gaze to the sea, the sound of the waves filling her ears.

"How'n long she been like this?"

“A few hours, Your Grace,” Lady Ambrielle replied with a glance of concern given to her Lady.

Frowning, Thomas trudged through the sand towards his wife. A large hand was placed upon her shoulder, breaking Elaianna out of whatever trance her thoughts and the ocean had over her. She blinked and turned her head to look up to her husband’s concerned face.  "Come on now, gal. We gotta get you inside, the lil' ladies need you. C'mon now ... " he urged her gently, an arm around her waist to guide her from the sea.

Relenting, Elaianna turned to follow her husband out of the beach’s shallows. “I know,” she murmured.

Tides, did she know.

@atc-wra @thomasstalsworth @eidrich-crone @the-handmaiden @wrahaleth @sunset-sword