#postcards from azeroth

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[hhg2a]

A Note from the Editor:

Ah! Apologies for the long bit of silence, dear readers!

Been on a bit of an adventure. More to come on that but do enjoy some of these postcards I managed to snag during my travels of late!

- Osbern PS: Bzzz-caw-caaaaw!

<<RECALIBRATING DOODLE-DOO PROTOCOL.EXE>> - Quark

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Illidan did nothing wrong

[safrona-shadowsun]

Warcraft Weekly Writing Challenge ‘19

Week #4: Pilgrim’s Bounty/Food

It seemed a smart choice to omit wine from the list of imported donations this year, as far as Pilgrim’s Bounty tables were concerned. Thundershine Brewery had chosen instead to donate barrels of their refreshing fizzing waters line, bottled directly from the Pandaren family’s estate. Elder Meyue’s spirits had been lifted with the contract, Safrona recognized, knowing that it would bring her family’s business a well needed spotlight. But it was more than that - the Pandaren Matriarch had finally managed to collect her entire lineage for the holiday, scattered as they had been across Azeroth since the younger generations had found new lands to explore. 

The ritual of food and family was a strong compulsion to say the least, and for once the years long contention the Thundershine line had among each other seemed to smooth over with the much anticipated reunion. Safrona could not have translated all the words spoken between the Elder and her daughters, but some tears had been shed along smiles and full, forgiving embraces. 

"The monsoon eases," the youngest of Meyue's daughters leaned in to Safrona to inform with a private chuckle. "And we all live to breathe another day. You have helped in your own way, Courier. Will you sit at our family's table this year? You are most welcome to."

The polite question and invitation brought the importer to a quiet, pensive turn of a smile. "I am humbled by the offer, but I doubt your family's table is my place-"

 Jin-lai laughed gently. “Does the invitation make you nervous, courier? Mother says you are so often still as stone. You surprise me. Listen: family in Pandaria is an important word, and a generous one. Family is often considered all who support a clan and its name. The gardener, the teacher, the merchant. I will like to think a certain importer of needful things earns her place easily among us too.”

Safrona tried to return the smile of course, accept the generosity, but letting her gaze grow long on the gathering, and how Elder Meyue’s jade green eyes followed down the line of her daughters and their grandchildren, Safrona saw the tradition of mothers and daughters she would likely never have. The sense of disconnection to life’s traditions was unseemly. To absolve any sense of awkwardness, the Void Elf pooled her attention into professionalism, assuring her clients had what they would need for their gathering. She evaded the confusion in Jin-lai’s insightful eyes, taking her leave promptly.

I am thankful for the kindness, she had begun to write in reply to a postcard from Bloodbrew Wineries, the Baron’s handwriting flowing with invitation and show for a proposed banquet. The holiday’s left me drained still, and the overly alert make visitation a challenge. I’ll wish you well on the rebuilding, and hope you have all you need from me. 

--Sincerely, S

The Baron was the closest she would ever have had to a father figure, but her own meaning for the word “family” was not so generous as the Pandaren, or to elves of a forgotten name, apparently. The Bloodbrew name was a convenience for her, a support in business that had helped it take off in its infancy. In all the Baron’s kindness as a patron, ‘daughter’ only felt a title for her, and Safrona had taken steps to not become attached beyond business. Not in a world where political divides so easily rose and fell, closed and opened, changed hands.

Late into the evening, Safrona convened alone in the gathering room of the Perished’s Sanctum, beyond segregated people and faction tensions. Collections of gifted platters were set upon a simply dressed table - Nether knew she couldn’t cook if her life depended on it. The best in Azeroth’s wine and favorite liquors were set in place as well, much as an importer could provide. 

The Harvester of the Perished did not anticipate for a moment that any of her Circle would stop to share in her small offering; most either had ties to the living they shared in or had no need for food in drink in the first place. The spirits that often haunted their Sanctum would not receive her either without force, but Safrona laxed in her seat at the unmanned table regardless, tipping the bottle of bourbon to her lips.

This for her, each bonded through pact, death and duty, was family. As she heard the faint play of guitar drift somewhere to acknowledge her presence, she smiled, grateful for these small signs of belonging.

{ @weekly-writing-challenge​ - thank you again! Referencing @theperished-wra​​ }

[wowheadquarters]

Interview with Muradin v. 2.

Q: Haven’t we had this interview before? Why is it here again?

Authormi: Because somebody is an unbelievable fuck up and accidentally deleted the whole thing while trying to add tags to it. Yeah. So. That aforementioned somebody had to rewrite it. Thanks the Titans, they at least didn’t delete the questions like they usually do, becuse they had technical issues at the time.

Q: What do you plan on doing during the war?

Muradin: Like a proper Dwarf, I am going to defend the Alliance.

Q: Do you agree with the war?

Muradin: No.

Q: How do you think the war will turn out?

Muradin: Look, I have no idea how we can even have this war. The economic is too exhausted. Our population went down by 40 % in the last 6 years. We are too tired, too beaten and too poor for yet another war. And we haven’t got time for it either. Muradin: My betting money is on the Forsaken or the Scourge. The tire out much slower - no need to eat, drink, breathe, live... Unless somebody yells some sense into Greymane. We can’t have this war!

Q: Do you think Anduin is the right leader to rule the Alliance during the war?

Murdin: He will try to negotiate peace. Whether by our surrender or mutual agreement of both parties. Both outcomes would be actually a great relief! Muradin: Anduin is exactly the leader we need right now, except that old wolf has to let him to lead!

Q: Are you still in touch with the Frostborn dwarfs?

Muradin: Aye. Very good pen pals.

Q: Which was the most exciting of your adventures with Brann and the League?

Muradin: Before the whole stuff with the Orc invasion happened we went to Northrend, to Zul’Drak. And... I know this is going to sound crazy, but we’ve met gods there. Real living gods! It was so life changing and humbling! They were gigantic and magnificent. Muradin: The snake was very nice, although I didn’t understand how he could live so far north as a reptile. And that bear god taught me a lot about self esteem which I needed at the time. Muradin: I’d love to meet with them again some day, you see? It feels like a blessing that I even had a chance to meet them once. I want to thank them.

Q:  Sorry if I bring back sad memories, but do you still keep the "dull blade"?

Muradin: Yes. Let’s move on.

Q: How is your relationship with your niece? And by extension, your grand-nephew

Muradin: I would say that me and Moira are making quite a progress. Now she keeps distance and doesn’t throw things at me. Not sharp things at least. Muradin: About Dagran, well... Moira never lets me close to him enough to form a relationship,so that’s it.

Q: Stayed in touch with your elder brother? How's it like after he, you know, became jewelery?

Muradin: Yeah, well... No. It is hard to write to someone who always travels but never sand postcards, something that Brann does. And he doesn’t... I mean... It is a completely different Magni than I used to know.

Q: Ok but seriously what is your favourite food?

Muradin: Meat pies. Especially lamb.

Q: I am going to Ironforge next weekend Any chance to get an autograph from the one and only, the greatest, Falstad?

Muradin: I am sorry, probably not. He is in the Highlands, rallying the Wildhammer clans and bringing them together once again. He sometimes pops in here unexpecedl, but tough to tell when.

Q: Have you any future plans or dreams? Beyond being a part of the political core of Ironforge?

Muradin: Dagran will inherit Ironforge when he grows of age. So I can retire. I think about wandering together with Brann. Or maybe retiring somewhere in the mountains with Gelbin and invent more explosive sheep.

Q: How have you been dealing with the pressure of representing all Bronzebeards? Miss your ass kicking days?

Muradin: While my ass kicking days were awesome, I actually like being in the council. I am very efficient. Everything is connected - the army, the financials, the agriculture... It is like tending to a big machine, but you do it with paper and orders. Muradin: I don’t understand what was so hard about it for Magni.

Q: Your old saying was "My older brother is King of the dwarves, my younger is brother a renowned explorer. If I didn't kick so much arse, I'd feel a tad awkward!" - How would you phrase it now?

Muradin: I have actually thought about it for a long time. So here goes: Muradin: My older brother Magni is the Herald of Azeroth. My younger brother Brann is the most renowned Explorer of Azeroth. If I wasn’t in charge of every other Bronzbeard, I’d feel a tad awkward.

Q: Is there a place you'd like to visit but never had a chance to visit it before?

Muradin: Kalimdor. I’d love to see that continent one day.

Q: What do you think about Moira's efforts to unite the Dark Irons and bring them into the Alliance?

Muradin: She is doing a great job and I love and support her wholeheartedly!

Q: Is there something you like about the Horde and its people?

Muradin: The unity. They don’t see each other differences, they see the similarities. The Alliance cold learn a lot from that.

[jaedia]

Postcards From Azeroth: July 2017

Postcards From Azeroth: July 2017

Hi guys! I’ve been trying to convince myself to blog since my last post so give me a little slap on the hand for going so long. That’s how habits are formed, right? Also, I finished work today with my eyelids half-closed, I figured I’d just throw out some recent screenies from World of Warcraft to give you a wee idea of what I’ve been up to in Azeroth and if I’m not mistaken, this will be my…

[gwenhylew]

The Revenant (2/?)

Things that may have happened but didn’t (or did they?)

 Gwenhylew stayed in bed until the day was over. As night fell and the moon rose to rule skies of Azeroth, Gwen rose in turn. She discarded her traveling robe – a beautiful, practical piece of exquisite craftsmanship given to her by the druids of the Cenarion Circle – in favour of her true uniform, which she’d carried along at the bottom of her saddle bag all throughout the years.

The iridescent white Mooncloth Robes never wrinkled, and they barely had any wear on them. Wearing the robes in moonlight would make the wearer look like they were themselves glowing with the light of the Moon – of Elune, the great Goddess of the Night Elf people. The cold and distant Goddess Gwenhylew had sworn to serve.

Gwenhylew’s hair was almost as pale as the robes themselves. For a moment, she considered braiding her hair, to coil it up above the crown of her head, but quickly discarded the notion. She ran a wooden comb through her tresses a few times instead.

There were a few glorious items at the Bank of Darnassus she thought of retrieving – old memorabilia from her adventures, enchanted cloaks and rings, beautiful gowns, daggers, staves. But they all came with memories attached, and Gwen wasn’t ready to have a complete breakdown in her bank vault just yet.

In conclusion, there was to be no accessorizing. She would wear her hair open, just as the High Priestess had in Gwen’s time as a novice, and there would be just her Mooncloth Robe and a pair of sandals. No extravagances to draw eyes towards her.

She descended from her tower-like chamber down to the streets of the Craftsmen’s Terrace, which had become marginally livelier as night had fallen. More Night Elves busied the streets, visiting crafters, or headed towards the Crafter’s Tavern. Elves recognized her robe and didn’t bother her, and passing Sentinel guardians of the city nodded ever so slightly to her in respect, but there were no familiar pairs of eyes to meet hers.

Passing a Tailorer’s shop, Gwenhylew saw a glimpse of one of the weavers working at the loom. She’d forgotten her name, despite having visited the shop dozens of times in a life long past. They’d never spoken of anything personal, only about the handling of rare and enchanted fabrics and embroideries.

Without missing a beat, Gwen walked on.

She made her way through the central gardens of Darnassus, which were dominated by shallow lakes, purple trees and marble pavilions. There were fewer Sentinels patrolling in the gardens, and more citizens. Gwen spied more Worgen, and even some Draenei people, spending time under the pavilions, speaking in their foreign languages, saying words which meant nothing to her. She ignored them all, and made her way to the great wide bridge which lead to the entrance of the Temple of the Moon.

Priestesses and novices alike were all making their way to the Temple, which was not at all unusual at nightfall on a clear night, with the moon out. Most priestesses wore all-white, at least half of them in Mooncloth Robes similar to Gwen’s. She became a part of a serenely moving procession, which while lacking in order, made up in a strange and soothing calm, the very heart of which seemed to be the white marble temple itself.

It struck her as odd, how could she have forgotten this feeling?

Her worries lifted as she entered the hallowed marble halls. She searched for a private space in the great hall near the sacred Moonwell, where she offered a private prayer of thanks to Elune, before joining a procession of Priestesses, Novices and Acolytes to give her courtesies to the High Priestess, who barely acknowledged visitors as she was engaged in discussion with a Draenei envoy.

Gwenhylew returned to the Moonwell and sat there, staring at the statue of the first High Priestess. Across the years, she’d spent so many hours there, she could remember every detail of the marble carving. There was a comfort to the motions she had gone through, entering the Temple.

Had it been three or four years before, she would have meditated upon her prayers, and then left for any mission deemed important to the Night Elf nation. Had things been as they were four or five years ago, she would have stepped at the front of the Moonwell into the light of the moon, to be visible to the people entering the great hall, to offer them aid or counsel.

Neither idea seemed appealing to her now.

Then she had an idea. Gwen left the Temple, to seek the nearby pavilions for Alaindia (that was her name, right?), the elf who sold herbs and candles. As Gwen recalled, Alaindia had always kept to one of the green pavilions just outside the Temple. She was always a bit of a gossip, having so many customers, perhaps she would know if there was any news of Priestess Silvershine - a renegade Priestess who had been imprisoned for treason, and had subsequently fled.

Where Gwen was in the position of wanting to kill fewer people than what their establishment preferred, Laoise had been taken in for wanting to kill much more. Yet, still, Gwen counted her a friend. They had always shared something. An understanding. An alliance.

Gwen hurried her steps, eager to find the herbalist quickly, even though such urgent strides were not really in accordance with the stupid unwritten protocols of conduct. Gwen had always disliked that, she preferred to practically run from room to room, and the only reason why she tolerated these rules was because as a Priestess, the Night Elves expected a lot of things out of her, and acting like an unruly 50-year-old chit was definitely out of the question most of the time.

She made it to the green pavilion. But there was no one there.

Gwen sighed. The next best thing would be to go to the Wardens of the Barrow, who kept watch over the prisoners. Last Gwen had heard was that Silvershine had been jailed. But Gwen didn’t want to throw herself into trouble by going directly to the Wardens. There would be questions, and they already knew she had been friends with Priestess Silvershine. They must have seen her letters and postcards to Laoise.

Too bad she knew no one in Darnassus anymore, she could have sent someone to enquire in her stead.

Musing about these things as she was leaving the pavilion, Gwen almost walked into a stranger at the doorway.

“Hm!” Was her first reaction, not an apology. In fact, Gwen’s gut reaction told her, this stranger had followed her into the pavilion.

“I’m sorry, Priestess,” he apologized, despite the fact that it had been Gwenhylew walking into him. She took stock of the Night Elf man in front of her – tall, well-built, as most of them were. White hair in a ponytail, angular features, brown leather armour, and a cold hardness in his eyes. “Priestess… Mayapple, isn’t it?” He asked.

She knocked her head back, staring at him in the eye in a way that she hoped would make him step back. She wouldn’t. And soon it became apparent that neither would he.

“Have we met?” She asked, coolly, obligated to help any Night Elf seeking a Priestess, but she didn’t have to be customer service minded about it.

“No.”

“And how do you know my name?” Gwen asked, suspicious of what had made this stranger come to him.

“I was directed to you by one of the Sisters,” he responded, “I require aid, in a mission which would take me out of the Night Elf lands.”

“Is it a pilgrimage?” Gwenhylew asked.

“No, I need to… a Highborne Elf Mage, here in Darnassus, has asked me to enter the haunted ruins of Karazhan and acquire a book from there.” The man stated the facts plainly.

Devout, religious, magic-hating Night Elves, consorting now with magicians and their arcane artifacts. How times had changed! A handful of years before, this would have been a matter to discuss with the Wardens. But now someone in the Sisterhood of Elune was sponsoring such an outing, and knowing Gwenhylew’s reputation well enough to know she wouldn’t necessarily say no to a request such as this, even if the more conservative Priestesses would turn their backs on such a request.

Gwenhylew cast her eyes away from the stranger and considered the proposal. She didn’t mind fighting ghosts in haunted ruins. It would give her something to do. And she could ask him to help her with finding Laoise Silvershine in return…

“What is your name?” Gwen asked, staring at him in a challenge again.

“It’s… Alorion, Priestess.”

Gwenhylew nodded. The name didn’t strike as familiar.

[fridjitzu]

Azshara. Gallywix your monument is bad and you should feel bad.

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[hhg2a]

Postcards from Azeroth

Many of these I’ve found in my travels!

Take a gander, and see whatcha think!

- Dr. Osbern von Doomshmirtz

[feedthebanner]

I’m listening to some strat videos for the upcoming ToS raid while I work and I just hear “....overtime you’ll be become more and more tormented and eventually you’ll have to jump into the cage and confess your sins”.  Wat.....????  

[wecanbeheropons]

World of Warcraft 30 Day Challenge.

Day 9 - A screenshot you like.

I'm so glad I found this screenshot, it was hidden away among hundreds others and I was afraid I'd have to choose another! I took it the first time I went to the spark of imagination in Ulduar, a raid I absolutely love visually, this section especially. Tis acted as my desktop wallpaper for a while too, I love it that much.

Taking these sort of screenshots in game is something I enjoy to do. I can be flying around and suddenly the perfect view will appear on my screen and I just MUST stop and snap it. I was lucky enough to have a screenshot used in Postcards from Azeroth one day whilst the creator was taking outside submissions.

http://postcardsfromazeroth.blogspot.com/2011/02/624-prison-of-yogg-saron.html

It's perhaps my second favourite screenshot, and the editing on it makes it looks even more amazing.

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