#legionfall campaign

[sjolldorei]

~ Local Hero Returns Home from years of travel and glory! ~

Sjoll Sunguard, Sin'dorei adventurer of some renown, has returned to Quel'thalas for some much needed peace and quiet. After a long career of danger and heroism, this swordsman has decided to setlle down at his ancestral home in Eversong, where he plans to "spend some quality time relaxing alone, before helping to train the younger blade wielders in Silvermoon", our reporter was told.

Read more in the full article below.

Mr. Sunguard, pictured below on the Azurebreeze Coast, has come home to our lands of beauty and peace after his long and painful career as a warrior of the Horde.

We were honored to interview Sjoll as he walked along the beaches, gifting us a brief insight into his adventurous past.

"I first took up the sword when my father, Sol'osh, started training me," he began. "The woodland to the south where we lived wasn't the safest, quite far from any guard presence, so it was for self-preservation as much as anything else."

Growing up, Sjoll had two seperate parents - A Sin'dorei librarian, Sathir Sunguard, and an Amani elder, the aforementioned Sol'osh. We were quite intrigued as to how the young Sjoll came into the care of an Amani, life-long enemies of us Sin'dorei.

"It was a... strange situation. I won't say too much, only that both of my parents cared for me to the best of their ability, and I love and appreciate them both dearly for that."

The adventurer wasn't keen on elaborating further, only saying that the two parents had been in contact several times since his adulthood, and got along "very very well."

"I left eversong in search of adventures and, well, to explore! There's so much world out there to see, it never truly ends." Sjoll's passion for our world of Azeroth - as well the many worlds beyond - jumped out of his words, our reporter noted.

As tales were told of glories and gore from times gone by, we headed south towards the home Mr. Sunguard would be living in from now on. Unfortunately we cannot let loose every little detail, so we've compiled a short list of the most exciting questions:

Q: What's the most danger you've ever been in?

A: That would probably be during the Legion campaign some years ago. I was working with the Armies of Legionfall to secure various smaller invasion points, when one of my allies was dragged into a Legion portal! I ran in straight after them, killing a pair of felguards and distracting an infernal while my comrade, an enchanter, worked furiously to reopen the portal that had closed behind us! If it wasn't for them I would've died on that Legion world.

Q: Have you ever known love?

A: Ah... quite a few times, but only for fleeting moments. Sadly the nature of adventuring tends to keep a person on the move, so nothing has lasted. But I think I'm quite happy with a solitary life. It suits me well!

Q: Do you think you'll find love now that you've settled down a bit?

A: Are you asking for yourself...?

Q: Do you have a favourite battle technique you'd like to share?

A: There was an old classic I used to love, "The Bladestorm" - I'm sure you will have heard about it. The warrior would extend their weapons outwards and push their strength into whirling their entire body around in a deadly spin - much akin to "The Whirlwind" - but refusing to stop for neither friend nor foe. I could only manage 8 or so seconds, but a talented warrior could go for 20 at least!

Q: Many of our readers will be wanting to ask for advice, or words of wisdom. Do you have any of those?

A: Hm... It may be said often, but always follow your heart. This world is a wild place - busy and enormous, certainly, but filled with potential for anyone to be anything. And if you ever need any help, please, rely on the adventurers that came before you. We want to see our sucessors succeed as much as we did, if not more!

Lake Elrendar, pictured above, spills forth from the Amani mountains and flows down into the Western cost of Quel'thalas. Sjoll will be living near its pine-dotted shores for the forseeable future, although he assures us that there are still adventures in his future.

"Don't be too surprised if you come knocking in the future to find a note on the door reading 'Gone out for eggs, be back in 2 years' !"

If our time with Mr. Sunguard told us anything, it was that he was always eager to help out any adventurers in need - so if you need any personal advice or assistance, I'm sure you know just the elf to ask! Just be aware that he might be on a months-long trip to the shops if you're unlucky...!

[felthier]

With the final stroke of a sword, the Legion advanced into the Dawnspire, their numbers endless and unleashing glorious slaughter onto the elves of the Sunguard. Knowing that his people would make one final stand, the Archon Telchis Truefeather brought his forces down to the Phoenix Heart, the burning soul of the Dawnspire. There they would face any and all that came to despoil their home. 

Using the blood of the captives High Confessor Abbigal Reddings and Sir Arthur Royce, the Legion broke the final seal to the Phoenix Heart and began their assault on the Sunguard. After hours of battle, and many fallen, Kintaros Tyril Sunspear took a leap to jump into the cleansing waters of the Heart and reborn himself as the Citadel’s ancient protector, Alazar the Burning Heart of Belore. There the phoenix unleashed a massive blast of fire and ruin onto the Doom Lord Baal. 

Knowing full well that the elves had played their final card, Baal ordered his Warship the End Game to fire directly into the Heart, cutting a scythe through the fortress and strking Alazar. All seemed lost as the End Game charged its next shot, until the damaged Doom Glaive rengaged the skies above. 

Ordering her Dying Suns to abandon ship, Dread Commander Asteryn the Blackheart took command of the helm and fired all thrusters into the End Game. The collision caused a massive explosion and ripped apart the portals that lingered over the Dawnspire. With their connection to the nether cut, the Legion began to wither. With a final blast of holy fire, Alazar destroyed Baal and rendered him to nothing but ash. The battle was won but at great cost. Thus the Legion fell, and the wars of the Sunguard came to a bitter-sweet ending.

This was perhaps one of the greatest undertakings I have done in my career as a guild leader and a amaeture DM. After nearly 150 hours, the Sunguard finally brought our Legion story to a close. I just want to thank everyone who was a part of the under taking and thank them for their kind words and support. 

Special thanks to @sakialyn who assisted me with countless tokens and was always there to help me manage players needs.

Special thanks to @azriah who not only put up with all the hours I had to focus at a computer screen but also cheered me on when I felt like I could not carry through.

Special thanks to @curiouslich @cynfuldax @captainswingbeard for taking up the special job of RPing as some NPC and giving the events a unique feel. 

Special thanks to everyone in the @thesunguardmg for letting me beat up their characters each week. 

Finally, thanks for all those who followed and not part of the guild. Your likes, reblogs, and exposure has really encouraged me. Thank you!!

I will leave you with the last scene of the campaign, and as a reminder that it is always okay to change and begin once again. 

[sonofkhaz]

Something Ends, Something Begins

Dawn was a welcoming reprieve to the residents of the Dawnspire.

Muroco sat upon a fallen stone, resting his muscles. After the pyrrhic victory over Baal, the tauren had taken no respite. He had spent the entire night employing his strength to carry the wounded to safety, clear the rubble, and put out fires that ran rampant throughout the citadel.

It was also needed to bury the dead.

The battle and its aftermath had been long, harrowing ordeals. They didn’t rattle Muroco - violence and death were part and parcel of his life. The weeping and wailing of agony that took place afterwards had filled his ears as he toiled. Where he had lived, others had died. Even as his allies were cut down, and he was left face to face with Baal, he had lived.

And the realization of why he still lived dawned upon Muroco.

It had been just over a year that he gave his oath to Zalin Shadowsunder, finalizing his place in the Sunspears. In the course of a long year, he had traveled far and wide, fighting against bandits, the Alliance, the Nightborne, agents of the Old Gods, the Burning Legion, and other fell, deadly foes. He remembered the battle of Suramar. Orgrimmar. Thalassian Pass. Oakvale. He had grown stronger, mightier, with each battle.

But he didn’t create his success by himself.

As a child, his father, Hrumin, had beaten into him the notion that he must be strong to succeed in the world. It was a harsh lesson that taught him to be self-sufficient, to never rely on others for help, to never expect anyone to come to his aid. Even after his exile, Muroco wandered the world, alone, never establishing lasting friendships or alliances.

However, he was only alive because of the Blood Elves. The people whom he was once sworn to fight against.

Strong as he was, one warrior cannot stand against an entire army. The task is too great for a single individual. Every time he held the line, alone, his allies took great lengths to stand by him, even at the cost of their own safety.

Some of those allies did not make to see the rising sun.

And some were gone because they chose to help him live.

Muroco was not the type of tauren that grieved. He did not feel pain in his heart. And yet, he bowed his head. For once in his life, he prayed. He prayed that the souls who had saved him were saved in return. They were true warriors, all - and Muroco was proud of them.

They had won the war, but the fighting was far from over. Other threats would arise to threaten the Sunguard. Further still, others needed time to rest, time to rebuild, time to mourn. Until then, Muroco would act as the immovable shield protecting his new tribe - the only friends he ever had - from harm.

Muroco’s reputation as a savage, relentless killer had diminished, and in its place he was becoming known as a stalwart warrior, fearlessly leading the charge with Mammoth raised high.

It was a small price to pay for the peace it brought to him.

For just as iron sharpens iron, so too do friends strengthen each other.

[korammstonehoof]

Coming to Terms

“Stay on your guard, we can not lose you yet! I shall keep you on your feet!”

Koramm’s brow furrowed with focus as he called out to the elements, pleading for their aid. With a short sigh of relief, he felt the elements answer his summons, matter beginning to well up beneath the feet of the Lightward Thanidiel and the two Initiates, Zanaeva and Aeyns. All three had been brought low by the Skin Collector, and slowly, they each got to their feet once more.

The tauren moved cautiously away from Kala, the demon who had attempted to fell him not a few moments before. Her attacks were like shards of ice driving at his mind, threatening to drive him insane should he give her the chance. Even so, there was no truly safe place within the hall of the Phoenix Heart, with demons coming at them from all sides. As it was, with his back to the Phoenix Heart, a demon boxed him in on all sides.

Out of the corner of his eye, Koramm kept watch on the Doom Lord, Baal. Where before he had been across the room, he was slowly getting closer, each step shaking the ground around him. Even so, Koramm kept himself focused on healing those around him. If they fell, Ball wouldn’t be the only demon that Koramm would have to worry about.

A voice called out behind him, the words of the Archon drowned out by the ever present booming of Baal. Koramm turned, his face instantly filling with the sight of the Doom Lord standing just to his left, the demon’s hand raised high over his head.Before he could blink, Baal’s giant hand came crashing down, sharp claws slashing along Koramm’s body. The tauren collapsed, not a word was able to pass his lips as his head swam and the world faded to black.

***

Koramm’s eyes opened to a void. All around him strands of power surged, easily felt but invisible to the eye. The tauren floated in the blackness, even his own body not visible to him, as he tried to get his bearings. Somewhere, Koramm felt sharp shooting pain on his left arm, but it was as if it were a dream; distant, fleeting, and easily ignored. It was much simpler to float in the void, disconnected from reality, from the pain of the body, and the pain of the mind.

A fleeting image crossed his mind, filling the tauren with an overwhelming sense of dissatisfaction. Startled, Koramm looked around, seeing for the first time that he was not alone in the void. Off, in the distance, was a small earth elemental flecked with green stone, and beside it a rather tiny water elemental. Although Koramm could still not see himself, the strands of power continued to surge, now visible as flickering lines of red and orange, blown about by whips of grey. With some focus, the tauren seemed to move closer to the two small elementals.

“Emerite, Raidriss, what are you doing here? Where am I?”

Pictures of his body laying against the earth, his arm torn to shreds, as blood began to pool around him passed through Koramm’s head. “Oh. I’m dying.”

Distantly, even further off than the sharp shooting pain of his arm, Koramm felt the world shake. The pulsing red strands of energy grew brighter as the swirling gusts of grey faded. With a resigned sigh, Koramm sat between the two small elementals. Well, as much as he could sit without a body with which to do the action. Even so, it felt as if the elementals were right next to him, a comfort of sorts. “I can’t say that I thought I would go this soon, there was plenty more I had hoped to do with my life. At the very least, I wished that I would fully reforge my connection with all of the elements, and that my end would see me laid to rest back in Mulgore.”

A sharp spike of green flashed through the void around him before the red flared up once more, completely overpowering the green. “You never did tell me where I am. I mean, I’m dying, but this is certainly not what I expected to happen to me before my spirit passes on.”

No specific images passed through Koramm’s mind, but even so, the few glimpses he did get filled him with a sense of comfort. If he had had arms, the tauren would have set a hand on top of each elemental. “I do miss when you would talk to me in words, not just images. I can never know what you mean anymore!”

The two elementals each raised an arm, pointing to an area in front of Koramm. After a few moments, a single dreamleaf began to grow from the ‘ground’ of the void. As Koramm reached out to touch it, he saw his own hand come into focus once more. To his sides, the elementals disappeared, and all around him, the red strands of energy and the grey swirls faded once more to black.

“If this is how I am to meet my end, I hope that my sacrifice was not for nothing. I hope that we managed to hold the Legion, to stop their destruction of our home.”

Plucking a leaf from the plant, Koramm closed his eyes. @thesunguardmg

[thesunguardmg]

Legionfall Finale Event Dates!

The End Times have come!

Please join us on the following days to take part in the finale of the Legionfall campaign! As always, the 24 hr sign up rule will apply!

12/17 Cinematic Event (slightly interactive)

12/18 Battle of the Dawnspire pt. 1 (Commander Mode)

12/19 Battle of the Dawnspire pt. 2 (Hero Mode)

[rambleverse]

The gate shut behind them, and all was dark.

“You should have let me die.” he thought to himself, watching the Sunguard’s few straggling forces disperse to the most precious positions within the Dawnspire. What was left of their leadership spoke in hurried whispers before the command called out: the enlisted masses would hold Baal and his kind with what numbers they had. The rest of the Sunguard were to descend below.

“But to where, and protecting what?” he thought to himself. The battle was lost, the Legion could not be turned from the inside of a single citadel-not after they had so cleanly cut Truefeather’s support to the tower. Ouron looked to the vaulted chambers, the elegant heraldries, the finery of Thalassian make that surrounded him.

There were worse places to die, but die they would.

The descent shot stabbing arcs of pain through his feet that ricocheted inside the back of his skull. The blood in his face simmered just below the skin as the effort in walking the path before him drew acid from the fibers of his muscles. The Sunguard moved without him-there was no time for courtesies to the elderly, and he did not blame them. Outside of his construct he was nothing. Not a tradesman, not a mage, just another burden. His last act would be to relieve himself from their worries in this final hour. All that drew him further was the last nagging curiosity, the curse of a life of scholarly pursuit, to see what lay beneath the Dawnspire.

When at last he rejoined his comrades, The Phoenix Heart met him like an open furnace. The raw power of it-the composition of its myriad parts-all churned together in a massive font of mingled power. Arcane, Light, and life itself drew into and out of the Truefeather’s secret well, manifesting in a sum far beyond their parts. Ouron reached a fumbling hook of a hand into his robe pocket, drawing out his gem-lensed spectacles. With eyes primed to observe, and a body starving for mana, he opened himself to the marvel before him.

Where the Sunwell sang in a low, comforting note that carried clear across the Kingdom, this font sang in a chorus of infinite beautiful voices of every size and color. Its voice rang through him over and over again, lacquering mood after joyous mood over his shrunken soul. It bolstered him, nourished him in ways he long since forgot. It filled his mind with flames in oranges, violets, blues and greens that burned away his faults and fears in joyous absolution. It was a new source unto itself. A marvel of magic he never thought possible. An experience hitherto reserved for poets and painters. The tree flashed in his mind.

“-Sunguard! Sons and daughters of Quel'Thalas! Members of the Horde! I ask of you to join with me in one last battle. One last stand! Fight to your last breath! Fight till there is nothing left! Fight through the darkness and bring about the new dawn! We will not fall, we-” The archon’s words tore him from his ecstasy, clawing his horrid calculating mind to the front of his consciousness.

Despair cut through him. He felt his heart drop into what remained of his stomach as the thoughts turned in his head. After seven thousand years he held the answer to mortality, and all the beautiful possibilities it held, only for the Legion to crush them both. Heat sapped out of his limbs, and he shook there silently as elves around him rallied to their posts. He felt his hand grip his staff, watched the cobblestones pass under his robe as he moved, winced as sickly green light overtook the edges of his vision, but Ouron Nethermoon was gone.

The battle likely was a glorious one. One desperate faction holding on to all it had left; another driven to consume and destroy with the confidence only unstoppable might could provide. All Ouron could do was stare.

Think.

I will not die to demon hands. I will not burn in their fires, beg for their mercies, submit at last to their awful powers. They would not take me, a wretch. A less than serviceable sore that exists only to be noticed. Not even the Legion would have me-and still I will deny them. I have not walked this world, scoured its knowledge, coughed in bitter defeat and cried tears to let them take me.

It is so beautiful. WHY. it is so beautiful. WHY DID THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN NOW. Could have done so much more. I COULD HAVE DONE SO MUCH MORE. I WAS WORTH MORE THAN THIS. No, you spent your life exactly how you deserved it. No. I’m not dead yet. You should be. I’m not dead yet. Oh yes you are. Seventhousand-seven thousand years and naught but pain look at how they fight they live they love they die these people are better than you they’re better than you Ouron all you’re doing is standing here STARING. STARING. USELESS. DO SOMETHING. I can’t.

I can’t.

You can’t.

The marble basin emerged behind his back, crack. He stared at their boots. The two young elves, one nearly crying, another near to dying. He leapt-and Ouron watched through his gemstone lenses as one elf ceased to exist. The arcane laws that made him young, strong, solid, mortal were undone.

The heat felt like he was pressing his cheek to hot iron, he felt what was left of his hair singe at the tips, smelled stone sear into ash. His eyes swelled with blood, felt like they were being plucked by talons sharp and cruel-and yet his stared. When all went white he stared, when all went dark he stared. When the crying started he stared.

[raserus-taltherin]

The odds seemed insurmountable.  There was no glory to be found on this day.

In the distance, allies turned enemies loomed, ever encroaching.  The real menace behind them, surging through the lines as the battle drew onward.  Time was so very slow, and nothing seemed real, even as the soldiers of the Sunguard began to fall in rapid succession around him.

Raserus lifted his eyes, as finally the world stood still.  The Faceless One loomed, twisted and gnarled tentacle fist lifted high.  He couldn’t protect his men, or even himself.  He couldn’t protect his comrades.  

In an instant, reality snapped back to him, and all he felt was immense, crushing pain, and it all went black.  Echoes of screams lingered in the inky darkness, as the last tendrils of consciousness were cut away.

At least he stood strong.

Wound Roll: 15, -2 for armored, making it 13 Minor Wounds:  1 broken collar bone(left) Bruised ribs Minor cuts and scuffs to face

[iiloridansunshard]

Divide and Conquer

Tempers and supplies were both short, though for Iiloridan only one was a true vexation.

Iiloridan, no stranger to the turns of war, operated as he always had- with his own tent and own supplies, stores of food packed well in advance in magically-extended bags. It wouldn't last the entire affair, not any more, but it would stretch what he got from militia-supplied stores. With his mending reliant upon his own energies, he could only afford to ration so far before his healing and mana would begin to suffer.

But he was not greedy in the face of his allies hunger, at least; his army-supplied rations, he handed out to those doing with far less. A quarter of his ration to one, another quarter to the another, and so on. He could make do, as would their forces. It was frustrating, but survivable. But after the events of Tyr’s hand...

Again, the priest felt his fury rise because of Reddings’ ineptitude, and he stormed to his tent to pack his gear, breaking the tent down in a flurry of frustration.

Captured lives - lives that had well been lost when taken by the legion - had been saved. Others had been lost to the dark purpose the Legion had set for them; sheild and fodder, to sway the hearts of those who would fight the Legion from a safe distance. The Sunguard, to Iiloridan's sombre satisfaction, had taken the risk that spared their own.

Reddings’, the sanctimonious fool, had not seen it that way, falling straight into the Legion’s plot, pulling support and evicting the very forces sent to aid them from holy grounds. The only reason the tent fabric did not tear in the priest’s fury was the enchantments that gave it strength to withstand the elements.

Divide and Conquer. The Legion at its best and most insidious.

‘We saved men you had given up as lost, and this is how we are thanked? Abandoned yet again in our hour of need- the pass to our homeland left unguarded?!’

Perhaps the priest could have understood, if not for that. That, Iiloridan could not excuse or forgive. For her talk of ‘Innocents’ being slain, Reddings' apparently had zero qualms about leaving civilian lands to their fate.

Iiloridan Sunshard had long been a friend and ally to the Argent Crusade, fighting alongside them during the original seige upon Northrend and the Lich King’s forces. The soldiers that came to ‘escort’ the Sunguard’s forces off Argent land were subjected to a withering glare, no less strong for the lacking of an entire eye. Those he knew by name - and many others by rank - he purposefully met their eyes, recognized and noted to be remembered. Several had their own anger in turn, with friends lying dead under rubble and ash, but others quailed with guilty expressions under their righteous indignation. Pointedly, Iiloridan sat astride his own well-earned Argent hippogryph, a hollow reminder of their past comradery as he rode into unhallowed ground.

They would withstand without the Argents yet again.  Without proper supplies, even- They had no other choice.

[thedragonisaprincess]

@thesunguardmg

Defending Quel’lithien proved harrowing, yet successful for The Sunguard and their Sin’dorei allies! Few were wounded or struck down, and the final blow to The World Render was struck by Cabal member, Maratus’argae, proving even the smallest of fighters can still pack quite the punch!

But, as The Sunguard, Cabal, and Quel’Thalas’s Houses win this much needed victory... There was more happening that they could not see.

[felthier]

The final battles of Legionfall have proved deadly, with the bulk of the Legion forces assaulting the main gates of the Dawnspire, the other forces attempted to surround the castle and attack at all sides. The defenders held on bravely. On the walls perished Leoc Blacksquall, High Kraken of Dawnbreaker Anchorage and a company of Phoenix Guard, cut down to the last man. Hundreds of others lay dead and dying only to be trampled on by the approach of the Legion. 

At the main gate, the Sunguard held firm until the entrance of the Doom Lord Baal himself. Crushing through the main line, the Sunguard was forced to retreat and in a stunning defeat, they were forced from the field. Now the Legion reap through the outer courtyards of the citadel. Though Doom Lord Baal would not be distracted. Her desired one thing, the living beating heart of the citadel itself and soon he shall have it.

[mellonsilversun]

Survivor’s Guilt

Bruised and cracked ribs were nothing, she rationalized to herself as she had strapped her armor back onto her body, ready to return to the battlefield and continue to protect her comrades. She had left instructions for the care of those she had already mended - just in case.

Her job was to protect those who were still fighting.

But even her best wasn’t enough, it seemed, which was made more apparent when she woke with a cough that made her body ache and burn far more than when she had gone to rejoin the fight. Everything ached and breathing turned laborious. When she attempted to move from the cot she had been laid upon, she realized the sharp pain in her leg, looking to find it braced, bandaged and propped up for healing.

The immediate wave of embarrassment was only relieved when she saw she was located far from those she had already healed earlier, but another wave of grief and anger came over her when she picked up the mutterings from other menders. The Phoenix Guard and the supporting army had been defeated. The Sunguard was ordered to retreat into the Dawnspire. She could feel the waves of magic as the fighting had continued even now.

Another cough escaped her and the mender who had assisted her previously urged her to lay back into the cot. 

Only hours later did she feel the aftershocks of large attacks happen, even from her distance, and Mellarue sobbed quietly to herself.

She couldn’t keep them safe. They would’ve been alive if she hadn’t been hit, herself. You’re putting too much pressure on yourself, she somehow heard the phrase in her mind, but she could only shake her head. If she was there, she could help, she could do more. Maybe she could save someone who could fight again, stronger.

She could’ve taken the place of someone who didn’t need to die. 

They could do more than she could. Now she was stuck.

More tears ran down her pale cheeks. I am useless like this, they are dying.

She coughed again and held back a cry of pain. Useless. She had failed.

@thesunguardmg

[korammstonehoof]

Coming to Terms, Part 2

The stark white ceiling of the infirmary came slowly into view as Koramm opened his eyes, and even the soft light that suffused the room was enough to cause the tauren to groan in pain and force his eyes closed once more. He tried to rise, but the movement was too much, and the tauren’s head swam as his strength gave out, collapsing back onto the cot.

A voice rang out from his left, the bedside manner soft, but direct. “Allow your eyes to remain closed, Koramm. Don’t worry, you are in safe hands.”

The tauren stopped trying to move and let himself lay still on the cot. With energy, he forced himself to speak, the words tinged with the rasp of a dry throat. “This doesn’t feel like the spiritual plains of Mulgore…”

Blinking, Koramm tried to adjust to the light as he turned his head, seeing the young elf tending to him. She spoke once more as she raised a watershed to his lips. “Take a sip, you need a little fresh water.” She paused as he took a few small sips, enough to soothe his throat but not enough to cause his body to revolt. “Sadly, taking you to heal in Mulgore was not much of an option.”

Koramm could not hold back a chuckle, although the movement racked pain through his body. “No… I just… I wasn’t expecting to live through that.”

He could see the concern cross the elf’s face as he graced from the pain, but she continued to speak softly. “We did live though, thanks the spirits for that gift. I do, however, hope that you are not a famous writer with a book due.”

“The spirits are fickle. The elements came to me when I fell, and I thought they were giving me their last goodbye.”

Slowly coming back to himself, Koramm began trying to take stock of his body. His head was still muddled, the pain and stress of battle and his current condition clouding his thoughts beyond those directed towards the current conversation. Most of his body throbbed with a dull pain, with sharp stabs of it coming from his left arm, alongside the occasional swellings of a soothing warmth. And where he could move most of his body, very slightly at the least, his left arm wasn’t moving at all. Not even a twitch of his finger.

With a groan, he tried to force his hand to move, to no avail. “I’m probably not going anywhere for a while, am I? How bad is it?”

For the first time, he noticed the fact that the elf’s hands had been held up to his arm, a bright light covering them and the the heavily bandaged skin beneath them. For a few moments, the light stopped as she shrugged and gave him a smile. “It could have been much worse. I had to knit muscle and bone back together, and convince the skin to heal tight. I would say two, maybe three weeks before you’re out of the woods, but it’s going to be a lot longer before you regain full use of the arm.”

Koramm gave her a small smile. “The Light truly can work wonders, it seems. I can’t feel anything in my arm right now, so I shall trust you when you say that.”

“Hopefully, you should start feeling things in that arm in a few days. If not, I want you make sure you let me know, as more drastic measures might need to be taken.” She paused, her smile falling a bit. “If you start feeling a lot of pain, tell me immediately. We had you on a pretty significant painkiller while your major injuries were taken care of, but I think we can begin to lower the dosage now that you’re awake.”

Koramm attempted to give her a small nod, only causing his head to swim. “Please. The sooner I can get off of the painkillers, the better. As much as pain is terrible, I’d prefer it over the dull, deadened sensations it provides.”

The elf nodded. “I understand. I tend to use pain to help focus my emotions and my magic. Now, be careful with moving, you have been out of it since you took that hit for me.”

The tauren smiled. “Don’t worry about it…” he paused, and the elf filled in the gap.

“Aenys Darklyn.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m awake now, and I know my limits.” He groaned. The talking had tired him out more than he expected. “Before you go to help the other wounded, could you possibly do me a favour?”

Aenys paused. “That depends on what it is.”

“I have a pack, at my desk, could you possibly get it? There… there should be a totem in it, a spare I keep here in the infirmary. I doubt the one I carried with me survived. Could you take it and put it by the head of the cot?” He paused as she gave him a suspicious look. “Don’t worry, I won’t try and call the elements. I just want it nearby, as a comfort.”

She gave a small nod before standing. “Let me go get it for you.”

As the elf disappeared down the hall, Koramm closed his eyes, letting his body fall still. The pulsing of the Light warmed his arm, spreading from the wounds across his body. Given that the pulsing remained, she must have blessed the bandages in some form, to provide a constant healing to the wound while she attended to other matters. It was a blessing that Koramm was thankful for, as it meant that the pain never spiked too high.

His eyes fluttered open once more as he heard the elf return, setting the totem on a stool next to the head of his cot. It was a small piece of wood, not much larger than his own hand. Whereas his regular totem was intricately carved and painted, this had no paint adorning its surface, and the carvings were rough, no more than was necessary to provide the traditional shape. She made her way back around the cot to his left side and inspected his arm. “It’s healing well. If you need anything, call loudly, if you can. I shall come running.”

Koramm smiled up at her. “Thank you, Initiate Darklyn. I should be fine now. Go and do your best with the other injured.”

She stepped away from his cot, before turning and giving him a small nod. “May the Ancestors and the Light bless you.”

The tauren smiled a bit brighter at her use of his culture in her blessing. He slowly turned his head to the other side, to look once more at his totem. “I am not quite sure what you were wanting to tell me, but I have followed you this far, I will keep going until I find out what you meant.” He thought back to the dreamleaf plant, and all the things it could possibly mean.

With a sigh, Koramm closed his eyes once more, letting his body fall into the restorative sleep it desperately needed.

@thesunguardmg 

[thesunguardmg]

“I paid for that destiny with my world and now the time has come to see it done. Burn it... to ash.”

Introducing Legionfall, the next installment of the <The Sunguard> Legion campaign! Launching on 7/25, the Sunguard shall be forced to travel Azeroth, fighting wave after wave of demonic invasions threatening to rip apart the world’s beleaguered defenders. With the Broken Shore at a standstill, Kil’jaden has sent one of his chief generals, Doom Lord Baal and his demonic horde to assault critical places in Azeroth. Wanting to split the armies of Azeroth apart, Kil’jaden is looking for any foothold he can use to usher in his massive armies. The Sunguard must sail across turbulent seas to meet these armies and close the massive demonic rifts from where the invasions come.

At these rifts will pour forth thousand of demons assaulting the armies of Azeroth. Without the Sunguard’s aid, they will fall. These rifts, known as Legion Gates, will take the Sunguard across the stars to distant Legion worlds forcing them to close the gates from within. 

While chaos has gripped Azeroth by force, beasts lurk within the shadows, biding their time to strike, eager to use the chaos to further their own ends. The void calls, and there are those who will answer.

The campaign will feature many new and familiar mechanics making a triumphant appearance in this campaign. They include:

New Virtues and Vices system (launch this weekend!)

Naval Battles

War maps and tactical battles

Player made NPC villains, with their own independent goals

Campaign Events! Each turn campaign commanders will draw cards that will influence the dynamic of that turn.

Savage combat with brutal consequences

A shocking finale that will forever change the dynamic of the Sunguard’s story

More below:

Turns:

Like in previous campaigns, Legionfall will continue to use the mechanics of turns to break up the pacing of the campaign and drive action across the world. Unlike previous campaigns, turns will be more defined based on the campaign theater. Each turn, the Sunguard will vote on which part of the world they will go to next and once they complete the objectives in that theater, they will complete a turn.

Each turn will feature 4-5 events, with a total of 4 zones to start from.

Deployments:

Making a triumphant return, the Sunguard will engage in deployments on each turn, traveling to locations in each theater they choose. These deployments will last the duration of the turn and are open to any and all of the community to come participate. Deployments will give a real and detailed example of what its like fighting across the world. 

Quests:

Like in previous campaigns, side quests will also be available for players to participate in. Each turn will offer new quests to assist the campaign, increasing army morale, or unlocking additional forces to fight at our side. Side quests will give players bonuses to essences and others for participation, but failing such quests will have massive repercussions. 

War Map:

Each theater will feature a unique war map with multiple objectives for the Sunguard to complete. On the map will be multiple icons representing various armies, both allied and otherwise. Each turn, commanders will combat those enemy armies with their own hard earned allies. Should their armies perish then all those within them will suffer grave consequences.

Morale:

Morale was a mechanic introduced in Act 4 which represented the overall health of an army. Morale, much like HP, will be added and subtracted during battle, winning events, completing sidequests, or engaging in combat. Should an army be depleted of morale, then it will disband, leaving its commander for dead.

Azeroth at War:

The Sunguard will sail its fleet around the world, combating Legion Gates whenever they open. They will then go into the gates of hell itself to close them from within. 

The zones of which the Sunguard will sail to are:

Eastern Plaguelands

Tirisfal Glades

Feralas

Azshara

Each of these zones will feature its own dynamic story, NPCs, and villains. The Sunguard must close all the Legion Gates in order to protect the already weakened world. 

Player Made NPCs:

During the month of June, the Sunguard ran a contest where players can submit their own NPCs to participate in the campaign. These NPCs will appear on battle maps either to help or work against the Sunguard. Players are encouraged to run their own characters to their own ends, knowing that they are there to add extra dynamic in events.

[rambleverse]

For when times are dark.

My Lord Truefeather,

Do you know why our fair King Dath’Remar chose the sun over the moon? Many think it a petty act, or a political one. Perhaps it is-all things are in a way political. But after years of freezing, dying, scrounging through the woodland nights I think this thought occurred to him in all his wisdom.

The sun rises.

Each day it finds the strength to rise above the horizon, to rise from nothing, to make itself new and grand. It is because it works each day to rise that it shines triumphant through the day. It shines so brightly all creation bows with its shadows, so that all that is can live in awe of the task. To remake from nothing. To rebuild from oblivion. We elves are not so lucky.

Life is cruel, and short. Unlike the days we flicker in and out of the world at intervals bizarre and for reasons ambivalent. We go to bed. We bow to darkness, take its hand and say, “To tomorrow.” knowing only one time that we will be lead astray forever. We do not have the almighty confidence of the sun, no guarantees. No fixed and perfect pattern to which we can live our lives in sublime and beautiful repetition. Instead we do what every mortal must. We do something greater than Belore in every day and every waking moment. Something the sun, with all its power and light and life.

We choose to rise.

We fight through pain, winter, darkness, hellfire. Things the sun will never know. Things it cannot know in its harmless perfect path. We see the darkness before us not knowing where it leads, or if we will survive. Yet we continue on. We continue despite the darkness, despite the pain and we come out stronger for it. For unlike the sun we are consumed when we burn, our passions and our hatreds and our fears and our rejoices. We shine and shine until one day we must stop and yet:

We choose to rise.

When our king hailed the sun and declared, “Look in all its glory and take it into thyself. Let your heart know its warmth. Let your soul be carried by its ascent. Let your minds be illuminated in its radiance. See the sun and how each day it rises again and again unstoppable and eternal. Make yourself into the sun, so that your light will grace everything it touches.” he knew he stood among a glorious constellation. For every star is a sun, and every pinpoint torch in the darkness-for all its chilling space-casts light from within itself. They shine so bright that in their neighbor’s skies they announce.

“I am here. I am still here. I still burn.”

We burn together.

We choose to rise.

Rise.

Ouron Nethermoon

@telchis

[caeliri]

Dawnmender Supply Shortage

Though the heroes of the Sunguard have walked away from their battles with heavier wounds in their hearts than in their flesh, the same can not be said for the foot soldiers who serve below the crimson banner; each battle has taken a great toll on those who march into death at the orders of their crimson-coated commanders, and their wounded ranks have filled the Dawnmender Infirmary and exhausted many of the Mender’s supplies.

With the ships from Quel’thalas now sitting on the bottom of the sea, the Dawnmender’s supplies grow thin; potion, bandage, elixir, antidote, all things practical are now run-low, and the effects of a shortened supply trove are in full effect. As such, a letter - in several copies - is penned and posted in the newly erected infirmary, hung above the most common supply locals and peppered elsewhere as to not escape the Dawnmender’s astute eyes.

Dawnmenders,

Not doubt you are all bright-eyed enough to note that our supplies grow wan; what we started this deployment with grows closer to spent, and with our expected shipment of supplies now swimming with the fishes, and no notion of when the next ships will reach us - or if they will reach us at all, given that pirates and other sea-bound beasts still pose a threat to our supply lines - we must be particular with what we have left.

Wherever you can spend the effort and energy to mend via magical means, please do so; save what practical mending methods we have for when ought else won’t work, or for our menders who rely most heavily on practical methods in lieu of weaker magical proficiency. Please, for the sake of our patients and our continued ability to serve and sustain ourselves until our next shipment arrives, I beg compliance with this order; an order backed by the Oracle herself.

If assistance is required in this transition, please, don’t hesitate to call upon your Dawnwards; Dawnward Novastorm, Dawnbrook and myself (Dawnsworn) will be on-hand at all times to assist in any capacity required.

Dawnward Dawnsworn

@stormandozone | @retributionpriest | @ocarina-of-what | @lissanaria | @thesunguardmg

[theuser]

Death Knight Legion class mount

New WoW post on Kor'kron 501st!

Recently I went back to get my DK class mount from Legion. I had finished the order hall campaign and figured it couldn’t be too much work to get the mount. At one time you had to finish the Legionfall campaign, but it seems that’s no longer the case. I doubt it took me longer than an hour or two to get the mount. Spoilers for the quest series follow. The quests involve finding the remains for a…