#wyrmrest accord

[jacelandon]

November DWC 2024 Day 4 - Tranquil

He had assumed her to be a spirit at first. She wasn’t the first nor would she be the last unfamiliar soul that Jace encountered in these parts; it was common knowledge among the carnies that should you perish on Darkmoon Island, it was difficult, if not impossible, to leave. It wasn’t a frightening sight, nor unusual for the ghosts to gain enough energy and show themselves every now and then, especially during the witching hours. 

She didn’t notice him watching her, nor did she seem to have any qualms about stepping into that dark forest, hand extended in front of herself as if she were being led. Curiosity got the better of Jace and he quietly followed; he was one of the few that had nothing to fear here, and if she were just a spirit, neither should she. He wrapped his arms around his core to aid in keeping the warmth in, the forests could get chilly during the night and despite the thick canopy of trees and foliage, it had always felt colder here than anywhere else on the island. 

Her movements were graceful, almost like those of a trained ballerina, and her opalescent, sheer gown did nothing to shield her against the frigid temperature; not that she seemed to care. When she reached the clearing at the center of the forest, she paused, unblinking. There she stood and stared for what felt like hours at something unseen; light, wavy hair billowing in the breezeless space. It was completely devoid of sound here, almost as if one were inside of an anechoic chamber. The fauna knew to avoid this cursed place, making it all the more unsettling. Jace could hear the sound of his own heart beating and blood circulating through his veins, even with shallow breaths, he could hear his lungs and diaphragm expanding and contracting with each gentle rise and fall.

It was always uncomfortable, but he was mesmerized. 

Eventually she stepped closer to the center of the clearing, arm extending and reaching for something he couldn’t see. With a slight shift of his weight, a branch creaked beneath his boot and the spectral woman startled and stumbled backwards, an expression of horror replacing the previously tranquil one. But she wasn’t looking at him, she was still staring at something unseen to him and suddenly vanished.

Jace stood up straighter and briskly made his way towards the space she had previously occupied, looking around for something, anything. He wasn’t even sure what. 

She was gone.

He made his way back towards his camp with a melody in his head that demanded to be written down: Her theme. Everyone had their own theme, and sometimes it took a while for him to determine what would fit a specific person. However, once he had his empty staff paper in hand, the entire song flowed freely.

~ 1 ½ Years Later ~

Jace sat on the ledge at Fancy Cakes, sipping quietly on his coffee as he watched the other patrons. Indulging in some sweet treats was an excellent way to begin a night of busking, and he tried to make it a habit to come here at least once a month. 

The evening was relatively quieter than usual, but he never minded just chilling and being with others. Deep blue eyes watched as the blonde-haired woman wandered up the steps to give her order to Braedyn, and when she turned around he nearly choked on his coffee. He didn’t give himself away, his poker face had grown too strong throughout the years of working for Silas Darkmoon. It had been well over a year now, but he knew. The theme came back into his mind the moment he saw her face.

This was her. The ‘spirit’ he had seen in the Darkmoon Forest. Alive and in the flesh. How could this be possible?

This references a story you can read ---> HERE

@daily-writing-challenge @karaamberlight

[weremagnus]

S.E.L.F.I.E. of Tarscale with Ellonthal (MG) and the cookie she baked in her likeness!

[thetirisfaltheatretroupe]

Coming September 7th: "Hellsqueal, the True Warchief's REMIX"

WHO: The Tirisfal Theatre Troupe...and YOU! WHAT: "Hellsqueal: The True Warchief's Remix", a live performance! WHERE: The Shrine of Fellowship, Jade Forest WHEN: Saturday, September 7th, 6:00 PM PST // 8:00 PM Central

(Original poster by our beloved friend Erialin. Miss you always <3)

Many years have passed since the fall of Garrosh Hellscream, widely referred to as only the second worst Warchief to ever live. In the wake of his legacy of failure, come have a laugh at his expense as we take a brief and historically accurate look at his career as Warchief of the Horde! Come join the illustrious Tirisfal Theatre Troupe as we perform this revision of a classic story, filled with drama, heartache, betrayal, heroics, and jokes about bronze frogs and dubious medical typos!

The show will be held at the Shrine of Fellowship in the Jade Forest (Wyrmrest Accord's shard, non-Warmode), a quick portal away for both factions on SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH at 6:00 PM PST // 8:00 PM CENTRAL! Runtime is approximately an hour and a half, though technical difficulties may cause us to go slightly over!

It's been a number of years since the Tirisfal Theatre Troupe last performed the play that put us on the map! While we said goodbye to the Hellsqueal trilogy of comedies a long time ago, with the advent of the wildly successful Mists of Pandaria Remix, we figured now was as good a time as any to dust off the old script and give people another taste of this timeless classic from the Timeless Isles. This time around, a few things are a little different - our standard of quality in what we've written is a little higher, our production value is a little larger, and we've got a number of new and old talent alike returning to the stage! Come join us for this recollection of a simpler time, and maybe find something both new and old to love about this new spin on the Tirisfal Theatre's very first major production that we premiered way back in 2013. Whether you are an old troupie, or someone who has merely heard of us in passing... you're certain to have a Hellscream of a time. Note: This post will be updated and reblogged as more information becomes available or clarifications are added! Special thanks to @shamanofthewilds for editing the time and date details on the poster on such short notice, you're an amazing asset to the company and crew! <3 And best Thrall.

[nzoth-the-corruptor]

Anyway I've been obsessed with formatting TRP3 profiles the last few days and had to make a full guide.

Have you ever wanted to learn about the secret images TRP doesn't want you to know about? The alignment tags they hid from us? The secrets of having two images AND text in line with each other? A pre-cooked table of special symbols that will display without error on your tooltip?

[celassa]

Artist: Anniris via Twitter

[suddenlybear]

look at the perfect little face

[cordwainers-locker]

Willow Greenwick as a Mail Carrier AKA one of Dave's top 10 fears! Love was in the air, but Willow was burning it to the ground.

Art done by...*drum roll*... the wonderful...*drum roll continues* ... the one and only ... *drum roll stops* ... @planktonheretic !!! So give their profile a gander.

[garrennorassin]

Garren Norassin World of Warcraft OC

Beautiful art done by the amazing @sbeep, thank you so much for doing my boy justice! Gift from @turning-through-the-never <3

[thevelvetcartel]

The Velvet Cartel invites you to Go to Fel this Hallow's End! Join us for a night of frights as we ring in the holiday!

There will be a chance to win art from our talented artists! A mount raffle, pet battles, a costume contest, and more!

When: Saturday, October 26th at 5:30pm server time.

Where: Irontree Clearing, Felwood (WrA).

We hope to see you all there!

[dicenne]

Following this writing prompt for our crew!

“RUN INTO OUR LIGHT! FIGHTERS WITH ME, GET THEM INTO OUR CAMP! EVERYONE ELSE KEEP THAT LIGHT GOING, HELP THE WOUNDED, AND CALL BACK OUR NIGHT SHIFT TO HELP!”

Commander Dal’shula’s booming voice echoed throughout the camp and was more than enough to stir Dicenne from his light sleep. Hallowfall had not been the best place for restful sleep given there were no distinguishable days nor nights thanks to their ‘star’, Beledar, and its inconsistent shift between Light and Void. It was easy to tell the crystal was currently in its Void state given the ominous purple hue cast over everything.

Dice didn’t have to see what was going on in order to know exactly what happened: Someone’s light had gone out. It was a fear in the backs of all of their minds, knowing exactly what kinds of horrid creatures the Void phase would bring out. Thankfully he had dozed off in much of his armor; even though it was sturdy, it was also comfortable. He strapped on his boots, gloves, and helmet before picking up his shield and mace. Blunt force worked best against many of these enemies, as he had already learned over their past few days of being and fighting here.

He sprinted out of his tent and towards the fray, watching as Talonoa and a few others on the night shift disappeared into the darkness beyond their own brazier’s light. There was no hesitation in following the group, this is what he did, or what he used to do. After spending centuries in some type of military organization, you learn to allow the adrenaline to carry you into any situation no matter how dire.

The chaotic scene that unfolded before him wasn’t anything he hadn’t witnessed before, but the sounds of blood-curdling screams, bones being broken, and flesh being ripped is something one never gets accustomed to. The brazier in the neighboring camp seemed to have been snuffed out after creatures burrowing beneath had knocked it over, and immediately swarmed the unsuspecting crew once the darkness enveloped them.

The ultimate goal here was to get the other mercenary crew to the safety of their camp, the spiders and other insectoids would continue to swarm as long as that light was out. Thankfully, this is where Talon’s mercenary crew excelled. Most being veterans of many wars, they knew how to remain calm under pressure, and more importantly, how to work together as a team.

After exchanging a brief, knowing look, Talonoa raised his open hand and froze a cluster of the monsters in place. Dicenne immediately dashed for them, raising his shield to his shoulder and immediately slamming full-force into his targets, shattering them into hundreds of icy slivers. He pressed on further into the center of the camp, swinging the sharpened side of his shield into a cluster of the smaller insectoids, easily slicing them in half before arcing the large mace up and over and flattening the head of one of the spiders into the ground that had been rooted in place by Fiorenze.

He hoisted up one of the screaming, injured fighters who was missing most of her leg, tossing her over his shoulder as he made his way back through the mayhem and deposited her on the edges of their camp for the healers to tend to. Eyes darted along the boundary of the light as fellow members of his own mercenary crew helped the injured to safety, while some of the others were able to rush in on their own with the insectoids nipping at their heels. Occasionally if one of the creatures got too close for comfort, a bullet would pierce their face, sending them flying backwards. Dicenne had no clue where Stellan had perched himself to snipe, but hopefully he would remain safe and undiscovered in his location.

Some of the creatures were getting too brave and coming a little too close to the light for Dice’s comfort. Sprinting along the edge of darkness, Dicenne quickly dispatched a handful of enemies attempting to claw and chomp at Nahilvi, Kaisina, and a few of the others as they helped bring the injured within the safety of the light, before heading back towards the neighboring camp. 

Tinnaire sent a fireball streaking over his head, lighting up the darkened sky, and making contact with a cluster of swarmites hovering above the fallen camp. Their burning corpses illuminated the continuous mass pouring forth from the earth’s broken crust. Talonoa stood just beside the cracked ground as a red mist began to fill the air around him and anything within a small radius seemed to wither and die, clogging up the opened earth and stopping the swarm from below - for now.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long the entire battle had lasted, but by the time the area seemed to have cleared of enemies and wounded, he had managed to bring back eight injured into their camp. A few of the fighters made a few rounds just to ensure they had not left any living behind before finally returning to the safety of their light. 

Dicenne set down his weapons and shook his arms out to help alleviate some of the tension. He didn’t particularly feel sore or tired, but that was all thanks to his innate gift. Bruises would show themselves later on, but for now he continued to ride the adrenaline high as sharp eyes surveyed the landscape in case they had missed someone.

A hand clapped atop his shoulder and he looked to Talon standing beside him. The man was just absolutely covered in blood and bug guts, and he assumed he looked no different. “Nice to have you back with us, soldier.”  

Dice gave a stoic nod in response, finally removing his helmet and gloves, then kneeling down to press a hand to the ground in an attempt to sense any unusual rumblings. The sounds of pained groans and hushed murmurs, along with those of the healing team hustling about behind him filled the otherwise quiet space. It was their first real test as a crew during this campaign, and it seemed that they didn’t lose anybody, or even suffer any serious injuries - that he could tell at the moment. He wouldn’t say it was successful given many lives of others had been lost, but they had at least been able to successfully save some.

@themercenaries @talonoa @inistellan @kharrisdawndancer @kaisinasunblade @nahisummerhold

[nahisummerhold]

By the ever talented @llihell

Thank you for such a lovely piece of art.

[xylaes]

Read Part 1 Here! Read Part 2 Here! Read Part 3 Here!

give in

Xylaes beat the sides of both fists in frustration against the door that had promptly slammed shut behind the small rescue team, trapping them within some kind of large chamber in the Spiral Weave. He should have known, he should have seen that coming, but his judgment was so clouded by finally getting another chance to kill this bastard that he didn’t notice the trap that they were all now in.

After reuniting with Rynga, they decided to form their own little mercenary crew of sorts to assist those being held captive within the City of Threads, just as they both had been. It was too dangerous to leave the safety of The Burrows and run around Azj-Kahet trying to find their way back to the surface, and they certainly weren’t going to sit still and wait for help to come to them. Eventually the military would be here, and the mercenaries would follow shortly after. For now, there was no better way to bide their time. Even after the military arrived, it still felt right to stay and keep doing what he had been doing. They knew the city well at this point, and had plenty of connections to move about nearly unseen.

Thus far, their small team of six had already rescued quite a few captives scattered about the city, including more victims of the Puppetmaster. Xylaes had a personal vendetta against the bastard at this point, especially after discovering Pyraelia there. Thankfully he had reached her just in time; she was so close to being lost and becoming one of…them. This only cemented his desire to find the sick fuck behind all this and to kill him once and for all. So while others left and rejoined their own crews, or were finally able to go home when the time came, Xylaes and some others stayed. They all wanted to see justice served.

let go

Rynga tugged on his sleeve, urging him to stop. It was no use, that door wasn’t going to open until whoever shut it wanted it to open. He glanced around towards the others as they all readied their weapons, waiting for whatever was about to happen.

“Looks like I’ve finally caught you all in my web.” The voice echoed from somewhere within the chamber, but the blinding spotlights from above made it impossible to locate their target. “You have been a nuisance from the start; setting my puppets free, destroying my workshop and then my theater. I think it is about time we get to your final act.”

“Come fight us yourself, coward!” Xylaes yelled out, eyes darting around and trying to locate the source of the voice.

His taunt was met with a maniacal laugh, “This will be my grandest play yet!”

Give In

More spotlights flickered on, illuminating the massive collection of ‘puppets’ waiting in the wings that had finally come to life. Most were nerubians, but there were a few members of the various Horde, Alliance, and neutral militaries scattered throughout. They were outnumbered, by a lot, and these puppets weren’t as easy to kill as their mortal bodies would have been.

There was nothing to be done but fight, they just had to watch each other’s backs and just maybe they could make it through this. One of the massive beetle-like nerubians stepped out of the shadows and Xylaes could feel a chill run up his spine. He would never admit to himself that a situation was hopeless even when it obviously was, and perhaps that was the secret to his longevity at this point. He had found himself in plenty of deadly situations, yet death had always eluded him.

Let Go

At times he thought he had maybe been blessed with the gift of luck, but if that were the case his past would have been very different. It always seemed like everyone around him got hurt, or worse, and yet he persisted. The adrenaline raced through his veins as he broke out into a cold sweat. All of his senses seemed to sharpen in that moment as he locked in, readying himself for the fight to come.

GIVE IN

“SHUT UP!” His abrupt exclamation caused the rest of the crew to give him a bewildered look. The feminine voice inside his head was growing more and more persistent. It wasn’t Callia like he had originally thought, he would have listened to her by now. He waved it off, shaking his head as he stepped closer to the center of the room, the group forming a circle with their backs to each other while the puppets began to close in on them.

With the first couple waves, their team moved fluidly through the battle. They were all highly skilled fighters and had plenty of experience under their collective belts, but the fact was that there were just too many puppets and soon enough they started to get overwhelmed. Maya, the human female he had first saved from the Puppetmaster’s workshop, was the first to take a hit. She dropped to one knee, screaming in pain as a spindly lance pierced her thigh. She kept fighting through it as best as she could, but she would sooner bleed out before getting through all of the enemies.

Rynga did her best to stop the bleeding with a bit of Light, but soon after Aras, a male Kaldorei that had joined them most recently, fell with a large gash across his chest. It was getting so crowded and harder to move, and soon enough the massive beetle-like nerubian hovered over them. 

It was happening again, everyone around him was dying.  At least he would die too this time.

LET GO

Maybe it was time to listen to the voice. What else did they have to lose at this point? He did what was asked of him, to give in and to let go. The fingertips of his replanted arm began to tingle and burn before suddenly the sensation shot up the foreign limb and throughout the rest of his body as everything suddenly went dark. The last thing he heard was Rynga screaming before completely blacking out. At least it was quick and relatively painless. He’d be with Callia soon.

“Xylaes, lad, wake up.” The voice was very faint, as if someone was calling to him from across a large room. His body felt sore and heavy, was this what it was like to die? That didn’t seem fair. The smelling salts immediately caused him to jolt up, nearly knocking Rynga over in the process. “There ya are, lad! Thought we lost ya fer a moment. Thought we lost…everyone fer a moment.”

It took him a few moments to get his bearings about him, rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat before speaking. “Am I…are we dead?”

“No, lad. We’re all alive, thanks to ye.”

Xylaes looked around towards the others. Maya and Aras were looking at him in confusion, both were bandaged up, but alive. When his gaze met Rynga’s, she looked taken aback for a moment, eyes furrowing as she leaned away from him. 

“What do you mean?” As far as he was aware, he passed out and didn’t do a damn thing.

“Ya don’ remember? …Obviously ya don’ remember.” She attempted to wipe the shocked expression from her features, reaching out to cup his cheek. Her touch was always comforting. “Ya…” It was clear she was attempting to figure out how to word something and couldn’t quite find the best explanation. 

“You made a smaller version of the void explosion like the one that blew apart Dalaran and it fucking killed everything but us. Didn’t know you had that in you, but fucking glad you did.” Maya was blunt like that, and Rynga seemed thankful she didn’t have to pick more delicate words.

“Didn’t know I had that in me either. Wish I could remem…” He trailed off as his eyes caught sight of the small amount of showing and -glowing- skin between his glove and sleeve on his left arm. He pushed up the sleeve, staring at the once hidden runes of this replanted arm that were now glowing a dark purple. “The fu-”

“That’s not the only thing, lad.” Rynga picked up her sword, wiping part of the blade off on her leg before holding it up to his face so he could see a faint reflection.

If he didn’t know he was looking at his own reflection, he would assume these eyes belonged to a stranger. Glowing a deep purple, surrounded by an inky blackness; this looked too familiar, and not in a good way. He quickly pulled his sleeve back down and cleared his throat, “Right, well, let’s get the fuck out of here, shall we?” The priority was to get somewhere safe. They could discuss this later. Or not. Maybe it was only temporary.

Who did this arm belong to before him? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know anymore.

@themercenaries @pyraelia

[embersoftheorder]

DWC - August - Day 1 - Melee

Blue light blazed across the wet stones of the claustrophobic tunnel of Stormwind's sewer system. Light was a valued and rare commodity down in the depths of the city, but it was thanked and enjoyed by those who tread it's foul waters. Tonight's wanderers included the Inquisitor Cheryl Duun.

Her green tinged goggles glowing with soft translucence as they cut through the dark to light her hindered sight, as much as she wished the glowing blue axe in her hands would brighten the darkness more. Her armor was tightly pulled to her muscular body to keep from snagging on anything, a piecemeal of chain and plate to protect as much as offer her speed. Her boots, soles tight and thick to keep from slipping into the slow flowing muck below her, gripped to the stone floor as she swung the stone blade of her weapon into the body of another kobold.

Most would consider the kobolds an easy foe, if even that as above the ground they were considered more of a minor inconvenience to the small folk of Elwynn and beyond. But here, here they were something different. Sinister, strong, and cunning in their movements and plans. Wielding weapons far superior to the crude stone or stolen steel, these were forged with a knowledge that they should not have. It was unnerving to see at first, but now after so many months of this vicious dirty work it was dangerous.

Beside her Cheryl heard Ramses give the order to hit the wall, the soft hum of his charged up weapon roaring to life behind her. The inquisitor gave a nod, not knowing if he saw it but she focused hard into the Tre's energy and caused it to flare bright watching the rats raise their hands at the sudden flash. Her own vision dazed from her bang, but she knew what to do as she flattened against the slimy stone wall.

There was a whine, a burst, and then the cheap smell of ozone as the arcane cannon went off. There was no fire or heat, but there was force and it was enough to hammer into the clump of foe rats ahead of the small band of catchers. They didn't even scream as they were blown back and smashed into the walls, the bodies gently folding and thumping down into the murky depths below them.

"Tides," murmured the woman as she blinked a few times behind the frame of her goggles. Her hand reaching up to pull them down and around her neck as he looked back to Ramses. The draenei smiling as he stood up and shouldered the cannon, even though he needed to duck a bit to keep his horns from scrapping the top.

"I think I got them," Ramses added with a hint of humor as he smiled with his softly glowing blue eyes.

Cheryl let out her own laugh as she tried to blink her vision clearer, not daring to touch her face down here again as she had when she first started. "I think so too. Come on, we got tunnel 17-C to go."

"Always, commander."

"Just Cheryl, Ramses."

"Very good, Just Cheryl," the draenei replied back, a wide smile on his face at his own joke.

Cheryl Duun rolled her eyes with her own smile before fishing her goggles back up before they pressed on into the under dark.

@daily-writing-challenge

[thetirisfaltheatretroupe]

Coming October 18th: The TTT's DOUBLE FEATURE at the Dance of the Dead!

(Original background from Quince Media via Pixabay, free-for-use license terms apply) An all too familiar chill is in the air, and the dead rise again to march in solidarity with their brethren. The Dance of the Dead, an event hosted for many, many years by the Undercity Nexus crew over in Caer Darrow, has returned once more this year! Last year, the Tirisfal Theatre was proud to perform on stage for them, and we return once more this year with gusto! Join us on October 18th over on the blood-soaked isle of Caer Darrow, and come to the burned down house across from the fountain at the town's center as we take you on a haunted house tour you won't soon forget with two tales of horrific homes gone wrong! That's right, it'll be like HGTV - but with affordable property! Our first offering of the evening is our delightful horror comedy show based on a chilling song by Jonathan Coulton, where an aspiring real-estate investor attempts to flip his first property. As he is fixing the place up to be sold for a pretty copper, he soon realizes it came with a resident already inside - and it's happy to see him! A little too happy... Will our everyman find a way to make his fortune on this old home? Or will he decide to throw it all away and destroy everything he worked for?

My guess is the latter... Find out, as we explore the horror of the creepy doll in...

THE HOUSE ON RAVEN HILL!

Then, stick around for a story that will chill you to the bone, as we go back in time to an era long ago. A wealthy Lord, known for his benevolence and generosity, gives everything he has to the people of town and is adored in return. But when he takes in a stranger cloaked in mystery and lies, he may find that he has given far too much in exchange for nothing. As the days go by, he may find that his world will change considerably, and not for the better.

Join us as we delve into the mind of a man who has much to give, and everything to lose, and discover this cautionary tale in one of our few non-comedic scripts, the tragic and suspenseful tale of...

THE ALTRUIST!

As we progress through the night, the troupe may stop for brief Q&A segments, put on a few surprise short skits for everyone, and have much ado at the theatre! For those taking part in the Dance of the Dead's D20 competition, pop in and enjoy our show while you wait for your matches! Or if you got your proverbial rear-end handed to you, heal your wounds with laughter and sorrow! The Tirisfal Theatre is pulling out all the stops to make this evening one to remember for all at the Dance of the Dead! So seek out a Moon Guard anchor, come on over to this frightful locale, and join us for a night like no other - only at the Dance of the Dead!

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

The Dance of the Dead is a large Forsaken-themed event hosted every year on Moon Guard server! Despite it being a Moon Guard event, anchors are available to pull you in from other servers to enjoy!

Our performances utilize player characters from both factions. As such, it is HIGHLY RECOMMENDED you have Elixir of Tongues and TRP to follow and enjoy the show! Typically people will sell these or give them away before and during the show, but try to have some on hand!

As with any of these night-time events, Inky Black Potions are also recommended for maximum immersion!

There will be a brief intermission of 10-15 minutes between shows to allow our crew to take breaks! The total runtime of both plays should be about an hour and a half at maximum, but it may run over depending on technical difficulties.

We cannot host parties or anchor once the show begins! Remember that this will be taking place on the Moon Guard shard of the game. As we find out more information about how anchors are being handled, we'll be certain to edit this information!

Remember, the show starts at 7 Central / 5 Wyrmrest Accord time on October 18th

Below is a map of the performing area! The blue marked area is where the audience should sit as to not interfere with the cast and crew, as well as to be able to see and hear the entire show! If you sit in the white area, or the 'nosebleed section' as we call it, you may be unable to hear a lot of what happens on stage!

We hope to see you all in the audience, and please be sure to check out all the information on the Dance of the Dead, happening October 18th and 19th on Moon Guard server! TL:DR SUMMARY WHO: The Tirsfal Theatre Troupe (Along with the Undercity Nexus and Dance of the Dead staff and crew!) WHAT: Double Feature at the Dance of the Dead! Two spooky plays written and performed by the Tirisfal Theatre Troupe WHERE: Caer Darrow, Western Plaguelands (Moon Guard shard, non-War Mode) WHEN: October 18th WHY: BECAUSE WE LOVE YOU!

A HUGE and grateful thank-you to Banshih and the crew of the Dance of the Dead! We're honored to return this year and perform for you all! This post will be updated as more information becomes available to us! Keep an eye out for any potential changes or new info!

[dhaiart]

Illaria Shadebranch, recently finished commission~

[pyraelia]

Xylaes' Storyline Part 2 Here!

tw: needles beyond the break

“You’re so unique compared to my other creations.” 

The way the creature crooned the words with pride and joy made Pyraelia want to violently bludgeon them to death. The far too tall and chitinous alien took their time adjusting her prosthetic, using thin, sticky webbing to freeze it in the position they wanted it to be in before stepping back and considering the overall tableau. 

It had to be some kind of Nerubian. That was the last thing she remembered from Dalaran — the spiders. This one wasn’t a variant she’d ever seen before. Any other time that would’ve been worth curiosity, but not now. A creeping dread crawled up her spine as her captor stepped back in closer again, one pair of hands immediately seizing her other arm and the opposite side of her ribs as the other pair worked. She felt the sting of the same long needle she’d felt over and over again in her armpit. The antitoxin burned and her muscles on that side started to slowly go slack. She immediately tried to lash out but the hand on her arm tightened its grip. 

“Now, now. None of that, my dear,” the monster said without displeasure, adjusting her exactly how he wanted her before another needle sunk in and the paralytic agent coursed through her veins again, freezing her in place once more. 

The others who had been across the room were different today. New bodies with terrified eyes. Their tormentor drifted away from her, moving down the line to whoever was in her periphery. She could still breathe, but with difficulty. How long until it was deemed she was perfect and enough was used to suffocate her? 

Would anyone even know she’d died here? 

How long had she even been here?

There was no way to keep the time, and in the swirl of terror and pain, she was almost grateful for the disorientation. 

Hunger gnawed at her insides. It wouldn’t be long now, she knew. The creature had crooned about a high profile buyer for her. Someone who would adore her slender frame, how much she looked like a malformed “Ascended” for an elf, proving their perfection. 

A day, maybe, at most. Khaeris would never know, or Aerden, or Fiorenze. She struggled hard to barely breath against the agony of being unable to scream or do anything to help herself. 

Through the exhaustion and delirium she almost didn’t clock the blonde sin’dorei that crept into the room. He had to be a figment of her dying imagination, but he wasted no time checking on the new-new bodies across the room. They had swapped out three or four times since she’d been placed here to be worked on and slowly cure. 

He turned then, to face her side of the room and all those lined up near her.

Xylaes. 

His eyes darted from form to figure down the line before he landed on her. His eyes widened briefly in recognition before he immediately moved to her. Whatever he’d been checking with the others he didn’t bother here. Another needle slid into her neck with urgency, one of a thousand now. How he’d managed to get his hands on a vial of antitoxin, she’d likely never know. It was slower to start its work this time, but within moments she was able to blink and gasp for breath, which rapidly turned into a racking, near hyperventilating cough that he stifled with his own hand as she collapsed from the dancer's pose she had been locked in.   

Every inch of her hurt terribly, the pins and needles from however long she’d been stuck like that started to hit all of her extremities at once. They didn’t have time to sit here, she knew that — and that moving was going to be painful. 

She frowned at her still immobile prosthetic and shifted away from him a bit; careful not to hit him with the frost magic she cast from her shoulder down to her fingers. The thin strands of webbing froze solid and she snapped her wrist forward with a hundred quiet pops as they all shattered under the stress.

“Come on, I’ll show you the way out,” he kept his voice low and half supported her as she tried to get her feet back under her like some gangly, newborn lamb. 

It got easier as they moved through the corridors as quietly as possible. For all that Fiorenze had told her he could be gentle she’d never believed it, but here that was on display even in the extreme duress of what was an absolute bitch of a situation. It took a while to find her voice, and even still what she was able to get out was barely more than a whisper, “I’m glad to see you.” 

He didn’t look over at her, keeping a scout’s eye toward where they needed to go next, but she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch up in a slight smirk. They’d never been great friends — frankly, they antagonized each other more than anything over the years they’d been acquainted, but she figured he understood.

The side entrance they ducked out of was non-descript, but the people — many in tattered Kirin Tor purple clothes — huddled around the cart that waited just to the side looked just as shell shocked as she probably did. A more common, actually spidery, form of nerubian watched them with shining, black eyes as he helped her up and into the back of the cart. She frowned as he stepped back and didn’t join her. 

“There’s others,” he jerked his head back toward the horror show from whence they’d came, “you’ll be safe here.” 

The nerubian chittered quietly before rasping out in understandable common, “We’ll be leaving for the lair in ten minutes, with or without you.” 

Pyraelia grimaced. He shouldn’t be in there alone, but she was pretty fucking useless in the state she was in. He’d survived much worse before. “Thank you… Don’t do anything stupid.” 

She was too tired to be polite, but that got a full smirk out of him before he disappeared back into the building. 

Ten minutes later, they left without him. 

The Weaver’s Lair wasn’t the worst place to have accommodations. It took her a few days — she assumed, there was no day or night cycle in this giant cavern — to get back to feeling reasonably well. Her body still hurt, but not enough to prevent her from exploring the safe haven. 

She took to sitting with the Weave Rats — the little spiders that mostly acted as messengers. Their little looms and spindles were so darling, and once she’d proven that she knew how to work them they let her take up some of the weaving. She caught on pretty quickly that they were encoding messages in the weft, and she was more than willing to work for whatever resistance had taken up here. 

On one of the days when she was feeling up to feats of magic she tried to open a portal back to Dalaran, but it failed with a startling immediacy. On another she summoned her staff back to her hand, recalled from whatever storage room her things had been thrown into in what she had found out was called the Spiral Weave. She regretted not working the same enchantment on her comm. 

Over time more and more Azerothians —  humanoids; nerubians were Azerothian too, after all — began to make their way down. Military envoys and scouts, mostly, judging by their uniforms. Pyraelia had been keeping to herself and her work for the most part, there was still a lot to unpack around nearly becoming a puppet that she really didn’t want to touch, but she did her best to eavesdrop as they moved through. 

It wasn’t until the mercenaries started to show up that she got a real lead. One of the men there to pick up potential contracts mentioned the Dal’shula camp. Fiorenze’s camp. 

That was enough to speak up about and she gently inserted herself into the conversation and with an introduction, “I’m Fiorenze’s sister Pyraelia. Is she there? Can I come back with you?” 

She recognized that it was an absolutely bewildering thing to say, and that — from the short times she’d been able to catch her reflection in the pools of water beneath the suspended platforms here — she looked fucking terrible still, but the immediate elevation of the gentleman’s eyebrows was something else. 

“I’ll have to check with Dal’shula.” 

Pyraelia smiled. That was good enough for now.

@xylaes / @kharrisdawndancer / @aerdendios / @themercenaries mentioned.