#daelin proudmoore

[welna97]

"Мне любая буря нипочём, если ты будешь меня ждать"

Они сразились с пиратами. Не то чтобы с этим их кораблём нужно было личное вмешательство лорда-адмирала, но у Дэлина Праудмура подрастал сын, которому давно пора нюхнуть не только соли, но и крови с порохом. Благо, Кэтрин не спорила: признаться, вздумай она пререкаться, Дэлин бы ей уступил. Заставлять жену на сносях волноваться -- это ж какой сволочью надо быть?

Она разве что строго потребовала:

-- Не переусердствуй.

И что ж, Дерек держался молодцом: безукоризненно слушался, зазря под пиратские сабли не лез, но при этом не струсил. Дэлин даже видел, как его сын ловко воткнул нож в ногу одному из бандитов и сразу снова спрятался за спиной одного из матросов.

Пиратское судно медленно тонуло. Пленные связаны и брошены в трюм, и часть награбленного ими добра тоже успели спасти. Оно либо вернётся хозяевам, либо останется в адмиралтейской казне. В любом случае, их ждал путь домой. Недолгий. Но под тревожно поганую погоду.

Жрец моря на корабле взывал к волнам, да только они не слушались.

-- Отец, всё-таки будет шторм?

Этот жрец ни разу не подвёл раньше: Дэлин не впервые с ним плавал. И всё же сейчас он опустил свой фонарь, прерывая молитву.

-- Буря слишком сильна.

И если нельзя надеяться на милость моря, то положиться нужно на корабль, команду и капитана. Дэлин сам встал у штурвала и нашёл взглядом на палубе сына. Может всё станет так плохо, что он спустится вниз, но хрена с два сегодня утонет хоть кто-нибудь! Потому что их всех дома ждут. И уж капитан с сыном знают это наверняка. Кэтрин не будет вдовой! И старшего сына тоже не потеряет!

Шторм был ужасен. Корабль швыряло хуже листика на шквалистом ветру. Соль жгла глаза, доски натужно скрипели, если только это вообще удавалось расслышать. Дэлину порой едва хватало сил вывернуть штурвал. Но он вспоминал Дерека, ещё недавно слушающего его у мачты. И голос жены.

"Не переусердствуй".

Она просила совсем по другому поводу, а теперь выжить можно только твёрдым усердием с толикой риска. Как ни силься -- дать больше нужного уже не получится, и Дэлин выжал с корабля и команды больше, чем казалось бы, кто-либо может дать.

Но всё-таки они вышли из бури.

Дома тоже был дождь. Зная про шторм, здесь всерьёз тревожились за ушедшие корабли, но Дэлин волновался о другом. Они сильно задержались из-за треклятой бури, и он мог опоздать на кое-что важное.

И ему почти сразу сказали, что рождение второго ребёнка он действительно пропустил.

-- К сожалению, дочка.

-- К сожалению?..

Он переглянулся с Дереком, а тот -- только развёл руками со счастливой улыбкой на бледном от всех приключений лице.

-- Наследник у меня уже есть.

Кэтрин не дала дочь на руки вот так сразу: сказала, что ни к чему ребёнку настолько рано знакомиться с морской солью. Но сама обняла мужа с сыном: уж она-то не сахарная и не растает.

Но и простого взгляда хватило, чтобы в сердце окрепла уверенность: Дэлину любая буря теперь нипочём, если эта девочка будет ждать.

[blue-eyed-banshee]

"Syl, are you okay?"

The banshee jolted awake, breathing heavily with tears in her eyes. It took her a few moments to see her surroundings. She was in their bed in their getaway in Tiragarde, Jaina....

"I'm fine." She lied before feeling her partner cup her cheek.

"What is it? Was it that nightmare again?"

"I---" Sylvanas' words died in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes before Jaina was almost knocked back by her wife's sudden hug. Sylvanas was mindful of her partner's very pregnant belly when she suddenly hugged her.

"Dalah'surfal..." She whispered, rubbing her partner's back.

"Vendel'o eranu..." Sylvanas muttered against Jaina's chest, which made the mage chuckle. "Syl.... he's gone... he's long dead." She whispered, massaging her long Elven ears.

She frowned deeply as she understood what Sylvanas was going through. She had enough demons she had through her life.

Jaina cupped both of Sylvanas' cheeks and leaned her head to touch her wife's. "Please do not think about what he made you do..." She whispered in Thalassian before Sylvanas hummed as she kissed Jaina's hand.

"Minn'da?" A young voice asked. A boy walked with his pajamas, and he was rubbing his eyes in tiredness.

Sylvanas smiled softly at her son. "I am okay, Daelin. Come, I'm sure you want to cuddle with your minn'da and I." She smiled softly before Daelin immediately got in between his mothers, and both women smiled at each other, proudly. "He's not here, Syl. You have Daelin and I." She whispered in common before Sylvanas hummed in agreement. She leaned over and kissed her wife before they eventually went back to bed.

[jainaism]

“I moved Heaven and Earth to smooth her. I had to fight Daelin to allow her to be trained in Dalaran.” ― Katherine Proudmoore

“Only the Goddess may forbid me anything. I will free Illidan whether you like it or not.” ― Tyrande Whisperwind

“My favorite story was always the one about how you were chosen to be the first female Guardian by Scavell, who was the first mage to see the value of a female apprentice, and how the Guardians of Tirisfal applauded the choice.” ― Jaina Proudmoore

Mia developed a lump in her throat. Genn seldom kept secrets from her, and the news he’d shared was frightening. He had asked her to make sure all the Gilneans in Darnassus made it safely to Stormwind—and for her to return as soon as that task was complete. She made a decision on the spot. Not for the first time, Mia Greymane would do what her heart felt was right, no matter what anyone—including her husband—wanted her to do. “I’ll be here for a while,” she said. “Once my people are safe, I’ll stay to help yours.”

“Battle sister,” Shandris said, returning the smile gently. “The archdruid and the high priestess send me to you with joy, and it is with joy that I and my Sentinels come to aid you.”

+

“A woman should have every honorable motive to exertion which is enjoyed by man, to the full extent of her capacities and endowments. The case is too plain for argument. Nature has given woman the same powers, and subjected her to the same earth, breathes the same air, subsists on the same food, physical, moral, mental and spiritual. She has, therefore, an equal right with man, in all efforts to obtain and maintain a perfect existence.” ― Frederick Douglass

“Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.” — Nora Ephron

“When a man gives his opinion, he's a man. When a woman gives her opinion, she's a bitch.” ― Bette Davis

+

“When men do shit, they get praised. When women take revenge, they are called crazy.” ― Unknown author

[wowerehouse]

Selkie!Jaina age seven, POV you are Katherine Proudmoore and DAELIN TELL HER SHE CAN'T HAVE SECOND DESSERT I CAN'T SAY IT AGAIN. DAELIN. DAELIN.

[eighthdoctor]

☔

Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

I think I will write it but it's going to be 9000 years so here:

delay the Legion's very clever (=batshit insane) Scourge related plans by approximately 20 years

Jaina marries Arthas. it is a political clusterfuck and both Daelin and Terenas hate each other by the end of it.

they have a happy and romantic relationship with above average amounts of sex for just about 15 years

but there are kids. oldest is a girl, prospective heir to the Admiralty. second is another girl, gone to the Tidesages. third is a boy, heir to Lordaeron. fourth is undetermined but there is a fourth for theme reasons.

Jaina wants to ease everyone into the level of influence and responsibility they'll have as adults. Arthas...has control issues.

there's a fight. there's probably several fights. Jaina's girls go with her to Kul Tiras. the boy remains with Arthas.

they Stop Talking To Each Other. Arthas would drag Jaina back home to Lordaeron except he literally cannot do that, so he just sends her increasingly upset letters. Jaina sits in Proudmoore Keep and carefully turns Kul Tiras into a trade empire and is the childrens' favorite.

there might be a smallllll insurrection orchestrated by Jaina to overthrow Arthas and replace him with their son, just once, a good attempt--

anyway then Jaina gets a messenger from Kalimdor, which no one really knows anything about: there's a plague spreading, the victims resurrect themselves as undead, nobody can do anything about it, is this something Kul Tiras is willing to help with?

[friend-of-kyoshi]

Fic idea: genderbent Thraina

- GNC feels; Jaelin Proudmoore, who was discovering books & elven fashion while other boys were training with various improbably huge weapons, would have very different relationships with the various avatars of aggressive masculinity that populate Azeroth. Daelin was fine sending his daughter off to mage-land (where she had a much higher likelihood of meeting influential bachelors), but a son? After he’d already lost his eldest? There was definitely some friction, which I kinda doubt Daelin handled with much sensitivity

- Doomed homoerotic bromance between Jaelin & Arthas. What’s worse than your boyfriend doing a massacre? The straight friend you’ve been pining for calling you a weak little pansy for not being on board with mass murder

- “We need to flee our homeland instead of sticking around to fight for it” would probably sound very different to the masses coming from a silk-clad ivory-tower prettyboy instead of from the Fair Lady Jaina. Probably got him labelled a coward. Poor dude’s probably got a complex about it

- Can’t recall an overt sexism shown by the Horde, but all their leaders have been men (Except Sylvanas, which… I am not going to even try to unpack). So between whatever additional bullshit Giant Woman Thrall has to put up with in order to unite the Horde and whatever additional bullshit she suffered as a slave, there’s… a lot of room for Horrors there, & she might come out of it more cynical re: humans than canon Thrall was, which could set up to a stronger enemies-to-lovers situation with Jaelin.

- Also, Taretha— stuck on the idea of her & fem!Thrall surviving the Horrors with a viciously ride-or-die sisterhood. A human girl who has rejected her human upbringing in favor of Orcishness (due to the ‘savagery’ of ostensibly ‘civilized’ humans) could be an interesting mirror of canon!Thrall’s whole situation. Also, just. The visual. Scrawny blonde chick dressed in animal hides & knives, somehow more intimidating than her massive, warhammer-wielding sister, weirdly respected by all the fearsome orcish warriors. Growls at dignitaries. Smells like wet wolf. Can you see it?

- The sex. Obviously. Huge rugged warchieftess begrudgingly impressed by smol human prettyboy; considers carrying him off for Snu Snu. Also maybe tying him up, just a little. Various self-indulgent size-kink shenanigans. Ever wanted to be manhandled by a woman twice your size? Look no further

[eldridgecandell]

🕯️ Use a Ouija board

House Ashvane may have been near sent to ruins thanks to the machinations and work of their former lady Priscilla, but there's a curious thing about memory. It's only as long as the coin stays quiet.

Despite the set back of the initial months after the disgrace of their matron, the years had eventually regained the little power they were allowed to keep over the docks and yards. With the death of Priscilla, the younger members of the house rose to meet the challenges of regaining the honor they had kept for so long. The other houses had been less than keen to give it but they could not deny the power they still held over the trade that kept Boralus alive.

The party alone this fine Autumn eve was clear enough as members of Waycrest, Stormsong, and Proudmoore found rubbing elbows among the island kingdoms elite. To be clear you would not find Lady Proudmore or Waycrest themselves and most definitely not Stormsong himself. All had been plagued with dangers, traitors, and dark tides since the Fourth War but that did not mean minor nobles or family members would not jump at the chance to deal and shake hands to benefit each other's status.

It's just business.

"Hatch, you ol sea dog, you are not one I would have expected to see here tonight," came the gruff notes of a man in a fine seal skin suit as he extended a hand to another gentlemen in deep green.

Jerimiah Hatch, Captain of Daelin's Gaze, took the extended hand with an air of what appeared to be indifference but his eyes spoke warmer than his cold voice. "Master Finley."

"Pff, Master. Cut that carp, Phil does fine," Finley laughed as he shook with his massive paw of a hand, his other as was usual cradled a half full goblet of fine Stormsong mead. "How ya been there?"

Hatch would shake easily, accepting the strong grip of the Drustvar native before releasing it to stand at his usual ready with his hands behind his back. The captain unlike many of his fellow partygoers did not imbibe, choosing to his keep his focus much like his liver intact. "I have been very well, Phil. And yourself? I heard that your nephew had recently come into quite a cache of silver in the mines near Corlain."

"Kurt, oh aye the boy's doin wonders for the business. Wonders! Wish my own sons would be as much a blessing to our enterprise," Finley chuckled again loosely as he lifted his goblet to take a deepr drink. His thick walrus mustache twitched a bit before reaching up to wipe the crystal embers of the honey wine from the hair before speaking again. "How is my boy doin?"

"Geoff is doing quite well on the ship, he does our Lady's armada justice and your own house proud in his duties," Hatch informed the giant of a man, the conversation reaching the awkward lull when people go through the usual first greeting motions. Fortunately, rescue was only a loud gong away.

"My lords and ladies," a deep baritone rose above the final ringing of the gong as all eyes turned to the front of the parlor and what appeared to be this evenings host. A short man with a grey fringe of hair stood at the front, his suit black as an orc to match his rotund belly while the trimmings of red did little to hide his place among the 'upper decks.'

"Ashvane," Hatch practically spit the name as he adjust his stance, his voice low in his disdain.

Finley was hardly one to put much in the 'traitor' house, but he was not one to be an ungrateful guest. Giving an eye over to his companion with a soft shrug and whisper to follow. "Easy tha, Hatch. It's been years now, ol Kehvin was hardly involved with her too much."

A snort was all Captain Hatch would reply as he tried his damnedest to not break his own hand as the held them so tight behind his back.

"Thank you all once again for joining us this evening," Kehvin Ashvane continued, no longer a lord or master in anyone's eyes but doing his best to keep civil and accept his role as just Mister Ashvane. It was hard at first for the once wealthy and proud to accept their new place in the hierarchy of the isle. Luckily putting wealth before pride seemed to be suiting them at this point in time.

"We are so grateful that this olive branch has been accepted by our brethren of the island," Ashvane continued as he did his best to let his brown eyes lock onto each guest and give them his attention. Years of practice still paid off as he spoke more. "Our past has always been troubled waters, but it is our hope as much as yours I'm sure to sail into bright and calmer tides. Though we are far than more aware of how well wishes can be but time is still needed for all hurts. And we continue to be grateful for your forgiveness and trust in our patience of someday being fully accepted back into the court of Kul Tiras and that of our lady admiral."

Ashvane would raise his glass on high in a toast. "If you would all be so kind as to raise your glasses. To Lady Proudmoore, to Kul Tiras, and to the future."

Glasses were raised and voices repeated the toast in turn. Finley added his own cheer of 'here here' to the chorus of well wishes and oiled acceptance of Ashvane hospitality.

Hatch was silent.

"Now as for tonight's entertainment, we have brought an exciting spectacle all the way from our kinsman in Drustvar," Kehvin spoke again as he slipped back among the crowd who parted for him gingerly. Some with interested looks, many with distrust, and others just enjoying the free refreshments.

A curtain was drawn aside to a drawing room off to the side of the parlor, the red curtains pulled by bronze ropes by the housemen of the chateau. Already the crowd was beginning to file forward with interest at something from their 'spooky' cousins to the west.

The drawing was warm and inviting with dark stained floors to match the wood walls draped with curtains that for old visitors would remember of paintings of the previous matron of Ashvane. Kehvin was wise to dispose of them quickly if not for the basic decoration of his house. But the walls were not really of so much interest but of the large round table in the center of the room and it's sole occupant.

White, bone legs of driftwood supported the massive circle with emphasis of allowing the natural dried wood to be evident in it's creation. Odder than the bone white wood was the top of the table. Black, dull slate gave nothing of decadence of the house of Ashvane but it was the matching colored writing upon it's surface that made it all the more intriguing. Chalk lines had been drawn and crisscrossed about with letters mixing from old Alteri to common and what appeared to be elvish or troll. All built in a circle that if stared at in the right way almost felt like their were moving a stomach twisting nausea. Chairs to match the table sat open and cautiously inviting, a count of seven though one was already filled.

"Allow me to introduce, Louise Wincott," Kehvin continued now as he turned to the side offering his hand toward the sole occupant who now rose. Finley gasped softly beside Hatch, who in turn hadn't foggiest who the woman was at the table.

Louise Wincott was tall and willowy, her dark hair streaked with white much like the chalk on the table did not match the lack of lines on her face. Her hands were held in front of her in a docile manner of a young woman in waiting, but the line of her mouth did nothing to bring joy or comfort. Her eyes, much as the streaks of white in her hair matched the chalk, matched the dark black of the slate of the table. Her thin lips would part than as she spoke softly and directly to the small crowd. "Calm tides and pleasant nights to you all, please come in and have a seat. Welcome to my table."

Hatch frowned as the gasp of Finley finally registered in his brain as he turned to the once bawdry man. The red nosed face of a man deep into his cups was now pale as a ghost as he stared. "Finley, are you alright?"

A quick shake of his head as he downed his cup, already turning around toward the exit. "I'll have no part of this."

"What do you mean? You were just going on about the future and bygones," Hatch still confused as he began to follow the larger man, the main crowd already starting to edge into the drawing room. The captain grabbed the merchant lord by the shoulder to stop him as he spoke again in more of his captain voice than that of a friend. "What's going on? Who is she?"

Finley stopped and turned back to Hatch, though his eyes strayed beyond the sea captain toward the dark entertainment. "A Nightspeaker."

"A what?"

Finley leaned in close, his breath reeking of wine and fear. "A witch damn it. He brought a bloody witch here!"

[tornsurvivors]

Imagine a family dinner with Vale & Jaina and their parents together. And it’s Kipp and Beau wanting to do it at their place while Katherine says it would be much better at Proudmoore Keep cause it would be proper. Vale recommends a nice spot in the forest, close to her parents place. Jaina ends up offering to use her place outside of Boralus cause it’s right in the middle and it also has an amazing view that everyone would like.

"I think supper at the Proudmoore Keep would be more appropriate..." Jaina didn't miss the hesitance in her mother's tone. Could tell it was cautious, because Katherine was most likely withholding tremendous guilt. Especially in the way the older woman's gaze tentatively met with Jaina's and the way Katherine's hands would habitually smooth out non-existent wrinkles in her admiral jacket. The one that Daelin gifted her.

Jaina just smiled and it was genuinely soft, reassuring.

"Mom... it's okay to disregard our titles just for one evening." Her tone was gentle too, warm and empathic as she approached the older woman and placed a hand on Katherine's shoulder. Once she saw the pinch in between her mother's brows soften, she relaxed more and felt lighter. "Don't tell me you forgot how much fun you and Papa had with Beau and Kipp? When none of our military and royal lifestyle weighted us down?"

And she felt more at ease once Katherine's lips curled into the ghost of a smile.

"How about we dine at my place? Just get away from the city, and we'll have the great view of the ocean. You wouldn't have to worry about doing a thing. Vale and I will do the cooking. It would be good for you to see Beau and Kipp again, you know. It's been... so long." Her voice lowered, almost inaudibly murmuring the last words. Because even Jaina was realizing how long it had been since Daelin passed. It was also partially because of the regret of not coming back home enough in the past before Theramore.

Before she knew it, she was pulled into a tight embrace. Her eyes widened before falling shut as she smiled and buried her face in Katherine's shoulder, almost clutching at her mother's back.

She had also forgotten what a mother's embrace felt like. It allowed her to break down, and cry. It was different from when Katherine embraced her after saving her in Thros. It was just... different.

"I think that's a wonderful idea, darling." Katherine whispered into her daughter's hair and squeezed her daughter tighter at the increasing volume of Jaina's sobbing.

[zealouswrath]

it's so much fun to think about Everyone Else's reactions to the ebon blade during legion. like. works with the lich king. promotes the deathlord and demotes darion. they rez a horde guy who died fighting for garrosh, then go get an old legendary alliance king and the zealot priestess from the scarlet crusade that simply refused to die some years back. try to rez tirion fordring, fail horribly, settle for making darion the fourth horseman. stops by the undercity to get koltira after sylvanas ignored their calls. collect Fun things to make a steed like "Essence of Hatred from Daelin Proudmoore". kills red whelps for fun.

the rest of azeroth like:

[jacaela]

day 4 - favourite character

Darion Mograine is the leader of the Four Horsemen and the former Highlord of the Knights of the Ebon Blade. The son of Alexandros Mograine, one of the Highlords of the Knights of the Silver Hand and the original wielder of the Ashbringer, Darion was a paladin of the Silver Hand, and later of the Argent Dawn. After his father was murdered by his brother Renault Mograine, he came into possession of the corrupted Ashbringer, and tried to save his father's souls inside. During the First Battle for Light's Hope, Darion used the sword to kill himself, destroying the Scourge forces and releasing his father's soul. Following the battle, the Archlich Kel'Thuzad raised him as an undead, while the Lich King made him the Highlord of Death Knights of Acherus and the ruler of Acherus: The Ebon Hold, once again wielding the corrupted Ashbringer. After defeating the Scarlet Crusade in the Scarlet Enclave, he and his fellow death knights broke free from the Lich King's control during the Battle for Light's Hope Chapel and founded the order of renegade death knights known as the Knights of the Ebon Blade. Under the leadership of Darion, the Ebon Blade spearheaded the attack against the Scourge alongside the Argent Crusade during the war against the Lich King, temporarily allied with them to form the Ashen Verdict and topple the Lich King.

Lady Jaina Proudmoore is the daughter of Daelin and Katherine Proudmoore, and sister of Derek and Tandred. She is considered one of the finest mages in all Azeroth and the most powerful human sorceress alive. She is the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, the former leader of the Kirin Tor of Dalaran, and of the port-city of Theramore. Trained as the personal agent of Archmage Antonidas, the late leader of the Kirin Tor and Dalaran, she was sent to investigate the plague of undeath with Prince Arthas Menethil, her childhood friend and one-time romantic interest. She witnessed the first stages of the fall of Lordaeron during the Third War firsthand and, guided by a mysterious prophet later revealed as Medivh, Jaina rallied what survivors she could find and fled across the sea to Kalimdor. There, her expedition forces joined together with the night elves and the New Horde and defeated the Burning Legion during the Battle of Mount Hyjal. The human survivors then founded the port city of Theramore, joining the Alliance led by Varian Wrynn, while maintaining peace with the Horde for several years. Shortly after the fall of Deathwing, the Horde led by Garrosh Hellscream destroyed Theramore. Jaina managed to escape with her life, but the experience transformed her, making her more bellicose and even altering her appearance. Following the death of Rhonin during the attack, and fulfilling a prophecy made by the dragon-mage Korialstrasz, Jaina took the fallen mage's place as leader of the Kirin Tor and head of the Council of Six. In spite of personal tragedies, she attempted to maintain the Kirin Tor's neutrality during the Alliance-Horde war. After the Horde-aligned Sunreavers aided Garrosh to steal the Divine Bell, Jaina exiled the Sunreavers from her city during the Purge of Dalaran and aligned the Kirin Tor with the Alliance. Following the Battle for the Broken Shore, the Council decided unanimously to re-admit the Horde into Dalaran for the greater good. Furious, Jaina left the Kirin Tor. Following the War of the Thorns, Jaina returned to her homeland of Kul Tiras in the name of the Alliance but was imprisoned for treason by her mother at the suggestion of Lady Priscilla Ashvane. After Ashvane's own betrayal was discovered, Jaina reconciled with her mother and brought the lost Kul Tiran fleet back home. Katherine stepped down as Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras and named Jaina in her stead, re-pledging their nation to the Alliance cause and to the Fourth War.

[sekhisadventures]

Landfall

The Great Ocean, Northeast of Kul Tiras

The steam engine of the large Horde vessel hissed as it chugged along far from the shores of Durotar, having been sailing across the ocean for several long weeks but was nearing it's destination at last... which was a good thing as morale on the ship wasn’t exactly good for one passenger in particular.

Galdia Grimaxe snarled, digging through another crate of empty bottles. “There’s no fuckin’ beer?! No ale?! No NOTHING?!” she snapped.

Leaning against a wall nearby was the massive form of Nitika Dawnhoof, the tauren at least big enough to stand against the Warsong warrior woman through sheer size alone. She was a Seer, a sect of people who followed the Tauren Sun God An’she, but she was as strong as Galdia in terms of pure muscle if not in martial training.

“No Galdia, not since the last time you shouted that two hours ago…” she sighed, shaking her head. “Its not the crew’s fault you drink enough for four orcs on average.” she snorted. She had long since accepted Galdia’s heavy drinking habit, after all the woman had been through a lot. Galdia was a Mag’har after all, and the phrase ‘you can never go home again’ was extremely true for someone in her situation. The Alternate Draenor that had been created by Kairozdormu’s attempt to ferry Garrosh back in time and space to the Draenor of the past was lost to them forever with the Hourglass of Eternity destroyed and that world’s own Dark Portal in ruins… as far as they knew.

Galdia let out a loud growl and threw the crate across the hold, the box shattering against the far wall. A goblin sailor swore as he was unable to get out of the way fast enough, cringing and covering his head and eyes with his hands… only to lower them a moment later to find a shield of pure sunlight covering his body.

“Galdia!” snapped Nitika, “That’s ENOUGH! I spoke to the helmsman an hour ago and we should reach the Dragon Isles today. Can you please keep this under control until we make landfall?”

Galdia glared about her, then snorted and stood up, “FINE! Fuckin’ fine…” she spat, stomping out of the hold, “Where’s Zhan-min when I fuckin’ need that overgrown furblog…” she grumbled in annoyance.

Nitika shook her head and shrugged apologetically to the goblin, then followed her friend out of the hold. A few years ago she would have been babbling apologies and offering to help clean up, but a lot had happened since they had entered the Shadowlands. Let the crew get on with it, she had to try to make sure Galdia didn’t wreck something else.

As they emerged onto the deck the other four members of Savage United looked up. “Fuckin’ fel Galdia…” huffed Grimo, the goblin making some adjustments to his goggles using a barrel as an improvised workbench. "Do I gotta pay for damages again?"

Galdia grumbled under her breath, stomping to the edge of the ship and leaning out to watch the ocean go past. From here one could just barely make out the distant coast of the island nation of Kul Tiras. Despite the armistice the crew had made a very firm point of staying well north of the island. While Jaina Proudmoore had, after a lot of meaningful looks from some of the other leaders of the Alliance, agreed begrudgingly to abide by the terms of the cease-fire… well… many sailors still remembered the fate of her father Daelin Proudmoore and while his daughter had been absolved of the hand she’d had in his death, many of them were still all too willing to remember that it was Horde-forged weaponry that had cut him down that day in Theramore, and it wasn’t unheard of for ships to just ‘go missing’ at sea.

Grimo frowned at the orc’s back, then grunted to Nitika, “How many?” he asked in a low voice.

Nitika sighed, “One box, but it was all empty bottles.” she replied in the same tone. Grimo let out a muttered curse as their two undead companions, the Death Knight Mola’raum and the Forsaken Darkcaster Edwood shook their heads.

“I get what th’ lass is upset about, long sea voyages are a pain in th’ arse even fer Kul'Tirians… but ye gotta find somethin’ ta keep busy with or you’ll go mad ‘n drink runs out eventually.” sighed Ed. In life he was a Kul'Tirian, but the Scourge had ensured he could never go home again as anything but a potential invader.

Mola’raum just shrugged, but kept one glowing blue eye on Galdia, ready to use his Death’s Grip to yank her back if she let her temper get the better of her again.

Sekhi let out a small whine, the vulpera songstress sitting crosslegged on the floor next to Grimo’s barrel, her flute in her hands. She could hear Galdia’s song from here, an angry tempo of frustration, boredom, and an eagerness to do something. The truth of it was Galdia had cabin fever bad. She hated long sea voyages because she had to sit and wait and if there was one thing that the orc woman could not abide doing it was nothing.

She took a breath and closed her eyes, trying instead to focus on the sound of the ocean. To her shamanistic senses all the elements were different musical sounds, and all around them was a slow steady beat of drums to her. The element of Water was a drum, sometimes a small set of hand drums for smaller ponds or pools, other times a series of drums such as a fountain or a waterfall. Here it was as if there were a massive drum beating out a soothing rhythm all around them… and then… her ears twitched as a faint metallic pinking noise drifted over to her. A xylophone-like sound, the sound of Earth.

She raised her head a bit, eyes closed to hear better. All around them was the sound of water, accompanied by the flutes and horns that were the sound of wind to her ears, but Earth had joined them now… and then she heard something else. The sound of a fiddle, being played rapidly, a sort of dance-like song that made her own foot do a little jig in sympathy to it as she sat there.

“Guys!” she yipped, beginning to wag, “I hear other elements! Earth 'n Fire! I think we’re getting clo-…” she started, and then a loud cry came from the lookout.

“LAND HO!” came the voice of a troll, holding a spyglass as he pointed ahead of the ship.

The group looked ahead as Sekhi jumped to her feet, then scampered forward to the bow of the ship as several others joined along… and ahead of them on the horizon was a faint dot that slowly grew bigger and bigger…

And then came the roar.

All heads looked up as a massive green dragon banked over them, the creature’s wings making a such a huge downdraft that it sent a few of the smaller passengers facedown onto the deck. They heard a laugh from above, as if the dragon was amused by this, then it flapped again and shot ahead towards the landmass in the distance, leaving no mystery as to what they were seeing.

The Dragon Isles, the long-lost home of Dragonkind. They had arrived at last!

Sekhi’s eyes were as big as saucers as she pulled herself up onto the front of the ship, her ears twisting this way and that. She could hear the Isle’s song clearly now and it was almost overwhelming to her.

The elements of the isles were strong and pure, left untouched by the races and wars of Azeroth for centuries. Its song filled her ears and mind and the Spirit of the island, the souls of dragons long past singing a joyful chorus to welcome their kin home after so long away. Her tail was practically a blur behind her as the island slowly grew from a dot to where the details could be seen even with the naked eye, and a dock came into view next to a massive volcanic mountain as one of the Blood Elf members of the crew laughed out, “Welcome to the Dragon Isles, adventurers!”

“About fuckin’ time.” smirked Galdia, the orc heading to the side of the boat even before the crew had the gangplank set up as everyone else gathered their things and made ready to disembark.

“Grimo, are we meeting up with Avalon?” asked Nitika, the tauren glancing down at the goblin.

Grimo just shrugged, “Eh, search me Nitts. We’ll run into ‘em eventually. Heard th’ Alliance has their half of the expedition set up near where we’re landin’.” he grunted.

Sekhi was the first off the boat, darting past even Galdia’s eager legs as she scampered down onto the coastline, her head twisting this way and that as she took it all in. The shamaness had heard a taste of the song that night in Dalaran when the Isles revealed themselves, but this was… well… it was so much more. It was hard for her to even keep upright… she wobbled a bit on her footpaws for a moment, then a voice cut through the song.

“Er, are you well?” asked a woman’s voice.

Sekhi shook her head to clear it, then looked back behind her.

Standing there was Laura Brightflame, the woman they’d met when they first got on the boat back in Durotar. She stood there in a long set of white robes holding a silver and blue staff with a draconic motif to it, her long blue and pink hair tied back into a messy ponytail.

“Oh um, yeah sorry… I can just… um… I can hear so much! Its… wow… yeah…” she stammered, looking around. Laura’s intervention had snapped her out of her initial reverie and now that she could focus she noticed something else.

Not all of the song she was hearing was good.

There were undertones of anger and betrayal causing a discord with the song of the Isles as a whole… but Sekhi couldn’t pinpoint where they were coming from. “Huh, that’s odd… I hear something else…” she muttered, her ears flicking back and forth.

“Something else? Like what?” asked Nitika as she caught up with her. Sekhi’s ability to hear Azeroth’s song was a good indicator if there may be trouble.

“I dunno… something… angry? Like there’s someone on th' island that don’t want us here… or don’t want… anyone here?” she tried to focus, catching a few hints of the Spirit of the song… “… lies… they lied… I hear…” and then the angrier parts of the song began to get louder, very quickly.

Sekhi’s eyes flew open, the vulpera’s fur raising on her hackles. “EVERYONE! LOOK OUT!” she cried!

From inside the landing area came a cry of alarm as one of the tents that the Reliquary’s explorers had set up suddenly exploded into flames, another one falling into an ever-widening chasm as the earth seemed to open up underneath it, the gap reaching the sea as oceanwater rushed into drown the unfortunate occupant.

“KILL THEM ALL! DRIVE TH’ HORDE FROM THE ISLES! FOR TH’ INCARNATES!” came a loud roar from above, and then roars came from all around as two dozen more figures burst from the bushes and rocks surrounding the camp.

On the cliffs nearby stood a furious looking dark iron dwarf, her body wreathed in flames as she directed a staff towards them.

Grimo rushed up next to Nitika, his rifle already in his hands. “A dwarf?! The fuck is going on?! Alliance stabbin’ us in the back?” he snapped.

Mola’raum shook his head, the troll unholstering his spear, “Don’t be assumin’ tings mon! She said ‘de incarnates!’” he snapped back, “Who be dey?” he asked.

Laura however, took a step back, shaking her head. “No… no no no…” whispered the human-guised dracthyr, her eyes wide.

The members of Savage United glanced at her, then Galdia shrugged, “Eh fuck it, they’re attackin’ us! This is exactly what I need!” she grinned as she unsheathed her pandaren-made claymore, “LOK’TAR OGAR!” she roared, charging into the fray as the camp’s defenders tried to rally from the sudden surprise attack.

Grimo shrugged, “She’s right about this at least. SAVAGE UNITED! ATTAAAAAAAAACK!” he shouted as the other members sprang into action.

Mola’raum immediately charged in next to Galdia, snapping his fingers as the runes on his spear flared brightly, a ghoul bursting free of the dirt next to him with a guttural cry before the undead beast threw itself at a nearby attacker.

Sekhi shook her head, the song pounding in her ears now, but she’d learned a lot from her time working in Tirisfal Glades… she couldn’t turn it off, but she had found a way to help block out the worst effects. She raised her flute to her muzzle, and a loud series of notes cut through the cries of combat as the skies rumbled above and a bolt of lightning arced down into one of the attackers, sending them flying to land at Edwood’s feet.

The Forsaken looked down, then made a face, “Tides Below…” he muttered. The one leading the attackers was a dwarf… but the one who had been crisped by Sekhi’s attack was an orc! “LADS! THIS AIN’T TH’ ALLIANCE! THERE’S ORCS AMONG THEIR CREW!” he called out over the sounds of battle.

Galdia brought her sword around in a fierce arc, the metal rebounding off a weapon drawn up to block it just in time, as she came face to face with a Darkspear Troll warrior, his blade and body shimmering in a heat haze as if he was about to burst into flames himself. She grinned, then headbutted him right in the face, smashing his nose and snapping one of his tusks in half, and as he stumbled backwards she ran him through the chest!

“Trolls too!” called back Nitika, “Who are these guys… EVERYONE! TRY TO TAKE ONE OF THEM ALIVE!” she called out.

Galdia laughed, “Alive? Sure! Not like they need all their arms and legs right?!” she grinned, bringing her sword around again at a Draenei’s body… and then with a loud crack she stumbled, staring at her blade.

At most of her blade.

The sword had snapped cleanly in half, the rest clattering away across the battlefield.

Galdia’s head came around just in time to see a fist approaching her face at speed, made out of something hard and brown, and then she was flying backwards as she was knocked clear off her feet!

The Draenei sneered. He was a tall man, dressed in the same sort of shamanistic garb as the rest of the attackers but his arms and chest were covered in a carapace of solid rock, his hands transformed into wicked bolder-like fists.

Nitika saw this and sent a burst of sunlight at him, but it barely slowed him down. “GUYS! GALDIA IS DOWN!” she called out in warning.

… but the others didn’t hear her over the cries of battle, and she was too far away.

A bit further away Laura Brightflame was not in a good place mentally. The sounds of combat, the elemental chaos, and the smell of blood were affecting her badly. Her mind kept flashing back to that dark day twenty thousand years ago. Her heart and head were pounding, her hands clenched against her temples so hard her knuckles were turning white… and then she heard the voice of that tauren woman she’d met on the boat.

Her pink eyes snapped open and she saw Nitika trying to rush towards the body of a fallen orc, that one that had been causing all that trouble in the galley. Suddenly she saw an ancient battlefield, and a fallen humanoid with crimson scales and large wings covered in blood, gasping for breath, reaching out a clawed hand to her as if to beg for aid…

Her breath caught, and instinct took over.

“STAY BACK!” she roared at the advancing Draenei, and a pair of massive azure-scaled wings erupted from her back, the membranes between the long scaley digits the white of fresh-fallen snow, and she flapped them hard, the scales glowing with a rainbow of colors as a swirl of wind to match any tornado slammed into Galdia’s attacker!

He stood his ground, but the blast of wind forced him to a stop as he glared at her. “EVOKER! THAT ONE IS AN EVOKER!” he called out to his allies as several more of the attackers turned towards Laura.

Nitika managed to make it to Galdia and began to heal her as she looked up at Laura. She’d seen a few around Orgrimmar after Ebonhorn arrived, but she hadn't seen one in this form up close.

Laura’s expression was wild, her hair swirling about her as her wings flexed, and suddenly she just changed.

Azure scales erupted along her skin as her robes seemed to unravel, becoming a crimson chest-wrap and breechcloth, her face elongating into a lizard-like snout, and a huge reptilian tail stretching out behind her.

For Laura Brightflame, everything else just went away. All she saw was the Draenei, the Primalist, before her. All the instincts that Neltharion had worked into her mind took charge, and she stopped pretending to be anything but Laurelgosa, a dracthyr.

Laurelgosa lashed out with a wave of Obsidian energies and the ground erupted under him, sending him prone as his own weight was suddenly used against him! The stone armor was powerful, but it had made him top-heavy!

As he struggled to regain his balance she leapt into the air, and several of the Horde’s veterans cried out as they saw something that some of the oldest, the ones who remembered the earliest days of Thrall’s rule knew all too well.

She soared towards him, flames flickering around her mouth, and then exhaled a titanic blast of flames and magic below her. The draenei barely had time to scream as the burst of dragonfire fell upon him. When it faded all that was left was his stone armor wrapped around a few charred fragments of bone, one arm still raised in a defensive position.

The other attackers cried out in fury and horror at their ally’s fate, flinging abuse and insults at Laura.

“Abomination!” they called her. “Titan-twisted monster!”

Laurelgosa heard none of it. She was in her true form, and there was an enemy. She hissed, then flapped into the air and channeled the power of the Azure into her wings, and almost two dozen bolts of magic shot out around her into her foes, slamming holes in armor and knocking weapons flying.

But there were quite a lot of them and Laurelgosa was an Evoker… but she was just ONE Evoker.

From among the attackers came the crackle of electricity, and a blast of lightning erupted from among their ranks! Laurelgosa froze, remembering the fury of another creature who used such powers, the half-remembered horror paralyzing her.

Then the lightning bolt hit a shield of sunlight, sparks arcing all over her form, unable to connect through the barrier.

Nitika lowered her staff, Galdia already back on her feet, holding her broken weapon… and there was murder in the orc’s eyes. That sword was special to her, and it was broken. The draenei who’d done it was dead, but someone was going to PAY.

She sheathed the broken sword, then snatched up the axe of a fallen Primalist and charged in as the defenders rallied themselves.

Another Primalist tried to fire off a spell only for a blast of wind to smack him across the face, then another bolt of lightning to slam down into him, sending him sprawling as Sekhi continued her song on her flute, driving and influencing the Air in the area to their defense even as the Primalists fought to control it.

Several burst into flames as Edwood channeled his fel magicks into them, the fires they became engulfed in not the ones they wielded but the corrupted green fires of demon magic. A couple even tried to dive into the ocean, but it didn’t help. Felfire wouldn’t go out until the victim died, even if they were underwater.

Two of them tried to take aim at Edwood, seeing what he’d done to their allies, and with a loud pair of bangs they both went down with bullet holes in their heads as Grimo popped open his rifle and loaded in a new pair of slugs.

And on and on and on and on until finally only one stood, backing away slowly. The dwarf who’d been leading the attack had vanished and he stood alone against the ambush’s survivors, all of whom were VERY angry with him to say the least.

A single dwarf, not a dark iron, but looking ready to fight his way out rather than surrender regardless. Suddenly, there was a loud roar as Galdia burst through the crowd, and the last thing that dwarf saw before the darkness came was her fist heading straight for his face.

He awoke half an hour later, his wrists tied securely behind him, with Grimo, Nitika, and Mola’raum nearby along with the leader of the Reliquary’s agents. Sekhi was near as well, the vulpera unable to ignore the fact that the song she’d heard earlier, the angry one, sounded just like this dwarf’s song.

“So, you can make him talk?” asked the Blood Elven man, wearing the long crimson robes his people were known for.

“Oh yeah, easy peasy for Nitts here.” replied Grimo, “You, uh, need somewhere private to…” he asked her, giving the tauren a sidelong glance.

Nitika sighed, “No… just…” she shook her head, closing her eyes, then when she opened them again they were a deep violet. “There we go, my turn.” she grinned, reaching out a hand as a faint whispering began to fill the air around her.

The dwarf glared, struggling against his bonds, but they had been tied securely. “Do yer worst.” he snarled.

She smirked, “Be careful what you wish for shorty.” replied Nitika Darkhoof, her hand taking on a dark aura as her eyes glowed purple… then suddenly Nitika cried out and clutched at her head as her staff clattered to the ground. “AUGH!” she screamed, stepping back from the dwarf. “I… I can’t get into his mind! Its like a wall of fire in the way!” she gasped.

The dwarf laughed, “That’s right! I’m protected from th’ likes of ye!” he spat, “Torture me all ye want! I ain’t sayin’ a damn word!” he retorted.

There was a bit of an audience to this, several others in the camp wanted answers after all. Murmurs arose from the crowd as the others considered things from alchemical truth serums to engineering devices and the like, and then a voice said, “Hey, troll. Yer a death knight aye? Ye can control dead people?”

Mola’raum pointed to himself quizzically, then nodded, “Um… yah, I can be doin’ dat… but dey don’t always be givin’ clear answ-…” he started.

“Good enough!” the voice said, and then there was a bang and the dwarf jerked into the air and landed on his side, smoke rising from a bullet hole in his head! Several cries came from the crowd, and a few laughs (there’s always a few who appreciate directness,) as a vulpera strode into view.

He was dressed in seafarer’s garb, with a cutlass on one hip and an axe on his other, blowing smoke off the barrel of a flintlock pistol. “There ye go, wake him back up ‘n make him tell ye.” he nodded.

Mola’raum blinked slowly, “Uh… ya fooked up ‘is brain mon. I dunno how much I be gettin’ now…” he replied.

The vulpera paused, lowering his pistol. “… that matters?” he asked.

“YA IT FOOKIN’ MATTER!” shouted Mola’raum, throwing up his arms. “De brain be where he keep all de memories! If ya fook up da wrong part de memories might be gone, or ‘e might not be able ta talk no more! Why ya be tinkin’ necromancers always be fookin’ careful wit dat bit?!”

A loud groan went up from the crowd as the Reliquary’s leader rubbed his temples. The vulpera winced, his ears folding back, “I… um… oops… w-well, I’ll just be shovin’ off then aye?” he tried… and then he noticed something.

Sekhi’s eyes were locked onto him, and her muzzle was hanging open. One arm was extended, and her finger was pointing right at him in shock.

“… wait…” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at her. “Oh bloody fel it can’t b-…” he started.

“JEEM!” she yipped loudly, rushing forward and pouncing him to the ground, her tail wagging like a blur behind her as the crowd stepped back. The male vulpera yelped and managed to keep from landing prone, but otherwise was knocked off his feet.

“SHIT! Sekhi?! What th’ fel are ye doing here?!” he yipped, looking more shocked and worried than anything.

“ME?!” she chattered back, “What are YOU doing here?!” she yipped excitedly, “Ya disappeared from Vol’dun years ago! We all thought ya were dead!”

“Er… w-well I did exactly what I told ye I was gonna do! I joined th' Bloodsails 'n became a powerful 'n feared pirate captain!” he replied, holding up his pistol for emphasis.

From behind him however came a faint gurgling sound, a wet guttural chattering as if a fish had learned how to talk.

Sekhi’s ears flicked, then she peeked behind him, and saw an infant murloc staring back at her. It was seated in an eggshell that had been turned into a sort of makeshift litter that Jeemjazo was wearing as a backpack.

“Murblblbhgbhbl. Mrublblglbhgl.” said the murloc.

She nodded at it, then looked at him. “He says your ship smashed inta his village, ya killed your captain, 'n then ya just left with him.” she nodded to Jeemjazo.

The vulpera boy stared at her, “… wait, YE SPEAK MURLOC?!” he yipped. “I didn’t even know he was doin’ anything besides just makin’ noises! I mean he’s just a baby!”

“Well no, but I can hear his song 'n its tellin' me what he’s trying to say.” she nodded.

“… his what?” asked Jeemjazo, cocking his head.

“Oh right! After ya disappeared, I started hearin' Azeroth's voice! Imma Shaman!” she grinned, wagging. “Oh wow! I gotta tell ma! We never found out what happened to ya 'n your ma came with the rest of th' caravan to Orgrimmar too! She’ll be so happy!”

Jeemjazo cringed, “Sekhi, jeez… no, seriously, please…” he whined as Murgly Jim, the murloc baby, let out a wet sounding gurgle that might have been a laugh.

As the two childhood friends reunited Mola’raum looked over the dwarf’s corpse, then shrugged at the others, “Eh, be worth a shot…” he sighed, reaching out his spear as the runes flared. Turning a formerly living person into an undead monster like a ghoul was easy… but bringing them back was hard, especially if the Kyrians had already claimed their soul. However, the dwarf had only just died so maybe…

The dwarf’s body twitched, then gasped as it slowly eased itself back up into a sitting position, it’s eyes glowing with the same witch-light as Mola’raum’s.

“Right den, ya be me dwarf now… who ya be workin’ fer? Why ya be attackin’ de camp?” he spat out.

“… ubuhg… gubhaaaaahn… guhg…” replied the zombified Primalist, a stream of something dripping out of the hole Jeemjazo’s shot had left.

“… crap. Say somethin’ mon?” he tried.

The dwarf’s jaw worked, but nothing recognizable came out of it. The bullet had either torn up the language center of his brain, or simply done enough damage to effectively lobotomize him. Mola’raum sighed, then snapped his fingers as the dwarf fell over with what almost sounded like a relieved sigh, his body going still once more as he went from undead to simply dead.

Mola’raum shook his head, “No good bruddah.” he shrugged, looking to the Reliquary’s leader. “I can make dem talk, but only if dey got enough brain ta be talkin’.”

“Yes… well…” nodded the elf, clearly put off by the display but only just. He was part of the Reliquary after all, it was hardly the first time he’d seen a dead body. “I appreciate the attempt. Pity that vulpera had to get in the way.” he sighed.

“Eh… we’ll figure it out soon enough.” said Grimo, “If these guys is ballsy enough to attack th’ Horde directly then it’s a good bet th’ locals have run into ‘em too.” he said, taking a drag on his cigar, “Besides, that other dwarf is the one I’m worried about. Notice how she took off th' second we started winnin’?”

Mola’raum and Nitika nodded to each other. A brave leader stays to fight to the bitter end, a smart one knows when to run for it. Still, not even ten minutes on the island and they were already in the thick of it again. What the hell would tomorrow bring after an introduction like that? What other dangers might be awaiting them on the Dragon Isles?

Across the Island, near the Obsidian Citadel

A young dragon roared in fury, shaking it’s head as it pulled against the restraints holding it down. It was a black dragon, barely more than a drake really, and it was in severe distress.

“LET ME GO! I WON’T SUBMIT TO YOU! I REFUSE!” snarled the wyrm, attempting to unleash a gout of molten breath upon it’s captor, but as hard as it tried the burning power wouldn’t come.

“Oh shut yer gob…” sneered the captor as she flexed her claws, glowing with fel energies. “I need a ways ta get ‘round this bloody island, ‘n yer me ticket fer that once I give yez an… attitude adjustment.”

Dissonantia grinned as she gestured again, the dragon screaming in pain as felfire streaked across it’s mind and soul, wrapping it in chains as psychological and spiritual as they were real. Its glowing red eyes flashed a deep fel green as it shook it’s head frantically… but the black dragonflight had long been corrupted by the madness of the Old Gods and even though their masters were gone or imprisoned the marks they left were still there.

All Dissonantia had to do was reach into the hollow they had left behind and fill it with her own power.

The dragon let out one last cry, then went still as its eyes glowed with felfire.

“I… will serve…” it gasped out, it’s chest heaving as it felt horror at it’s own words.

“Attaboy…” she chuckled, “Azzy, looks like we got a new pet…” she grinned over her shoulder.

Az’arad sneered at the dragon, his own body showing several claw marks and burns. He had worked with Cenoon and Xelkek to bring the dragon to heel long enough for Dissonantia to restrain it for the rest of her spell, and he was relishing seeing the creature broken.

“Roight then… Dragon Isles! Oughta be lotsa useful shite here fer a discernin’ lady like me.” she cackled as she snapped her fingers and with a woosh of flames a saddle appeared on it’s back, set with fel runes of compulsion, control, and dominance. The dragon let out a whimper of despair, but otherwise said nothing. “Climb on Azzy, lets see wot mischief wez can get upta.” she nodded, climbing up onto the dragon’s back as Az’arad followed her, seated behind his Mistress.

The felfire chains fell away and the dragon spread it’s wings, then took to the skies with it’s two riders, as Dissonantia extended her senses across the isles… seeking a new source of power, a weapon to use against her enemies.

Next Story

Previous Story

[blizzardbattles]

Warcraft Lore behind "The Prophet's Warning

The Prophet’s Warning

In the aftermath of the Second War, a mysterious prophet appeared before the leaders of Azeroth, taking the form of an unnaturally large raven. His cryptic warnings spoke of an impending apocalyptic threat, urging them to take action. Unbeknownst to all, the prophet was none other than Medivh, the former Guardian of Tirisfal, concealing his true identity to avoid being recognized as the sorcerer who had brought the orcs to Azeroth.

The Mad Prophet

King Terenas of Lordaeron and Antonidas of Dalaran, both wise and respected leaders, found themselves dismissing the prophet's warnings as the ravings of a madman. Little did they know that their decision to ignore the prophet's words would have far-reaching consequences for the fate of Azeroth.

Thrall's Vision

The prophet appeared to Thrall, the young warchief of the Horde, in a dream. In this vision, orcs and humans clashed as infernals rained from the sky. Upon awakening, the prophet urged Thrall to lead his people to the ancient lands of Kalimdor if he wished to save them from the looming threat. With the guidance of the elemental spirits, Thrall set sail for the distant shores of Kalimdor.

Jaina Proudmoore's Fateful Decision

While Prince Arthas Menethil refused to abandon his beleaguered people, Jaina Proudmoore, the young daughter of Daelin Proudmoore and apprentice of Antonidas, sensed the truth in the prophet's words. As the invasion began and Stratholme lay in ruins, Jaina heeded the warning and gathered her people to journey westward, hoping to find salvation in Kalimdor.

The Oracle

In Kalimdor, Thrall sought out the Oracle, guided by his new ally, Cairne Bloodhoof. At the Oracle's location, Thrall encountered Jaina and her human companions, and the two factions prepared to battle. However, the prophet intervened, revealing that only by ceasing hostilities and forming an alliance could they hope to defeat the Burning Legion and escape its corruption.

The Last Guardian's Revelation

In a shared dream, the prophet revealed his true identity to Thrall, Malfurion Stormrage, and Jaina Proudmoore. He was Medivh, the Last Guardian of Tirisfal, and it was his actions that had brought the orcs and the Burning Legion to Azeroth. Convincing them that victory could only be achieved through unity, Medivh rallied the unlikely allies to defend the World Tree, Nordrassil.

The Battle of Mount Hyjal

In the final hour of the battle at Mount Hyjal, nature's spirits, summoned by the Horn of Cenarius, swarmed around the demon lord Archimonde, ultimately destroying him. With the world safe for the time being and having repaid a fraction of his debt for his past sins, Medivh vanished, taking his place among the legends of the past. His powers waning, the Last Guardian departed the physical plane, hoping that the people of Azeroth would continue to fight together as they had at Hyjal.

[wowtalesofadventurers]

Kenyon Spaulding bio

Kenyon Spaulding is a male Kul Tiran druid. Like many druids of his people, Kenyon learn druidism from Ulfar. He first encounter druids outside of Kul Tiras in the Emerald Dream during the War of the Nightmare when he enter the Emerald Nightmare to free Kul Tiras nobles and, despite his negative views on the Horde at the time like many Kul Tiran due to the death of Lord Admiral Daelin Proudmoore by the Horde, work with these druids of different races, both Alliance and Horde, to defeat Xavius and his nightmare forces.

[massafera]

ALGA CARVALHO

Apesar do nome "Alga", sua família há muitas gerações são apenas fazendeiros dos arredores do Refúgio Outonal, que vivem apenas da criação de porcos e de plantações de leguminosas. Ela não só seguiu um novo caminho ao entrar para a marinha de Kul Tiraz: também é tida como uma das melhores navegadoras das ilhas. Chegou a posto de Capitão de Mar e Guerra, uma das mais altas patentes da marinha, com uma média de 15 anos abaixo da idade, uma proeza nunca antes feita. Sua subida meteórica de patente aconteceu durante a Quarta Guerra: seu capitão foi morto na Batalha de Dazar'alor, seu navio, tomado por zandalaris. Foi uma das únicas da frota kultirena a retornar com vida: dias depois do fim da batalha, ela chegou em um barco zandalari que havia roubado. Estava com tanta sede e fome que apenas repetia "Eu cheguei na hora da janta?". Por causa disso, foi chamada de "Alga, a Jantalari" por algum tempo. Alga Carvalho é a primeira mulher a se tornar capitão da nau capitânia de Kul Tiraz. -----------------------

SANTHIAGO MARDI GRAS Santhiago é o único Contra-Almirante de Kultiraz, e assumiu esse posto após a morte de Daelin e a prisão de João Purr. Permaneceu e permanece leal à casa Proudmoore. É extremamente orgulhoso e um tanto quanto ultrapassado em seus valores tradicionais. Está quase sempre presente na nau capitânia de KulTiraz, mas nunca ficou muito tempo longe das Ilhas. É tido como o maior cão de guarda das ilhas e estava sempre próximo de um dos Proudmoore. Apesar de ser muito amargo e um tanto quando preconceituoso em relação à abertura das relações pessoais e comerciais de KulTiraz com o resto de Azeroth, ele jamais iria contra qualquer ordem dada por um Proudmoore. Sua lealdade está acima de seu orgulho. Fora isso, ele é casado com Frederico "Anzol", um simpático e doce ex-combatente que, após abandonar a marinha, passou a cuidar de uma das pousadas mais conhecidas pelos marinheiros de Boralus - o Anzol.

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JOÃO PURR João Purr era um Contra-Almirante, que navegava lado a lado com Daelin Proudmoore. Acompanhou Daelin até Theramore, para buscar sua filha, Jaina Proudmoore. Mas João se recusou a seguir as ordens de Daelin: ele achava que Jaina tinha seus motivos e que deveriam dar a oportunidade de terem uma boa relação com a Horda de Kalimdor, devido às circunstâncias e de tudo que havia acontecido. João então foi destituído de sua patente, retornou para Kultiraz como traidor, e ficou anos preso. Só não foi executado porque Catherine levou em conta o quão ele era adorado pelos filhos, quando crianças. Com a volta de Jaina como Lorde Almirante, ela decidiu libertar João e realoca-lo na antiga nau capitânia de KulTiraz. Mas, impossibilitado de ter sua patente de volta, hoje João serve como uma das mais baixas patentes no navio. Ainda assim, é notória a alegria de João ao estar de novo servido ao almirantado Proudmoore e, sobretudo à filha que ele mais gostava. XAVIER FERREIRA Xavier Ferreira é o taifeiro da nau capitânia de KulTiraz, e é filho do alferes Paty Ferreira. Uma família nobre, requintada e tradicional de KulTiraz, que sempre serviu aos Proudmoore. Xavier estudou as artes arcanas e da espada. É espadachim e mago. Mas prefere exercer o serviço de taifeiro, cuidando sempre para que tudo esteja em seu devido lugar. Sua família está sempre envolvida nas festas e eventos mais nobres de Kultiraz. Ele garante que sua servidão e lealdade à família Proudmoore será recompensada. E essa recompensa virá com ele se tornando almirante de KulTiraz, conquistando a mão de Jaina em casamento.

[ojiisan01]

Commission from September and October that I didn’t post.

Since I only know your tumblr out of other people. @our-lady-oh-mara Thank you so so so sooooo much for commissioning me again!! <3<3<3