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PTR
10.2.5
PTR
10.2.6
Second Chances (Open RP)
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Post by
Aimsyr
Vashadya Duskwind
Feralas
Vashadya bent over and began to examine the cub, looking for injuries beneath the child's fur. "You had best go on without me," the priestess called out to Gurka.
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Skreeran
Character: Gurka
Location: Feralas
Gurka grunted and walked away.
Character: Snowmane
Location: Feralas
"Well then I suppose we have no choice but to hope they hear us out," Snowmane answered, sighing quietly.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Character:
Varyn Brighthammer, Mordecai
Location:
Dragonblight
Varyn indicated his agreement with a gesture of the head. He had grown quiet as they drew near the cave mouth, the wind whistling ominously between the teeth of rock, and vanishing into the depths beyond. Gingerly stepping through the jagged barrier the mage crept inside. Darkness tried to enfold them, only to be put at bay as Varyn raised his hand, a soft glow of pale blue light coming from an orb which he conjured. Setting it to drift about his head, he turned to Snowmane and gestured for her to follow as he padded softly inside, the death knight keeping pace with runeblade drawn and held at the ready come what may.
Winter wind pressed against Snowmane's back, flicking snow at her pelt as though in gentle insistence she enter.
Post by
Aimsyr
Vashadya Duskwind
Feralas
Vashadya put her arm comfortingly around the boy, speaking soothingly in Darnassian, her words laced with a gentle magic that sealed the child's wounds.
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Skreeran
Character: Snowmane
Location: Dragonblight
Snowmane shivered slightly, then took a deep breath and followed, uneasy about what might lie inside the black mouth of the cave.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Character:
Varyn Brighthammer, Mordecai
Location:
Dragonblight
The light from the cave mouth was soon gone leaving them in only the glow of Varyn's orb and Mordecai's burning undead eyes.
With a sudden sulfurous hiss they found themselves before a young man wearing a full necked ruff, trim jacket and pantaloons. His dress was well pressed and looked as though it had jsut coem off the tailor's table. He looked at the trio with an unsurprised but deferring air, his back rigid as a bar of steel as he held aloft a torch to better examine them.
"Bloodhowl and party," he intoned, staring at the worgen as though weighing her presence. "Mister Brighthammer," he said with a nod towards a shocked Varyn. "And escort," he added with a deferring nod to Mordecai, one that men of familiar casts typically exchange. "You are expected."
Turning about their guide began walking further into the cave. With a jump Varyn hurried to catch up, Mordecai flowing along like a shadow amongst the darkness. As they did so, the runes at the entrance of the cave glowed. A gust of wind tossed some snow past it, and when it was gone only the solid face of the mountain remained.
Post by
Skreeran
Character: Snowmane
Location: Dragonblight
Snowmane cringed at the sound of her surname. She eyed the newly present man--whom she readily expected to be a dragon--with suspicion, but felt she had little choice but to follow after him.
"What is your name?" she asked as they trekked deeper into the earth.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Character:
Varyn Brighthammer, Mordecai
Location:
Sanctum beneath the Sands
"Kert Diallus," was the tacit reply. A sudden racking cough shook the old man's stooped shoulders, the shuddering torch in a liver spotted hand throwing crazed shadows amongst the clefts of the cavern. Stifling further noise in his long white beard the ancient man shuffled forward on asthmatic legs.
Character:
Damocles Rex, Vaudeville, Subject 67
Location:
Dragonblight
Snow danced in the throes of whispering wind. Twirling, swirling, they abruptly broke themselves against a heavy black trenchcoat that fought against them and up the mountain path. Damocles ignored the wind as he forced his way up the mountain pass. His thinner coat had been exchanged at some point for something more robust, though in the same style, and his hat remained the domed piece of velvet it always had been.
The last few days had not been pleasant ones for the party of pursuers. Losing their mount meant that pursuit had to be based on guesswork, though the one who had taken the heaviest load was 67. While the rest of the party would wait in villages and rest stops along the way in the hopes of ambush and lack of better alternative, 67 was sent wide to foray for hints of their path. A futile road, for the trio knew how to hide themselves amongst the snowy plains.
67 slouched now by the blank mountain face, arms wrapped tightly about his chest and stamping his feet to keep warm. The front of his facial bandages were moist with snot from his illness. He turned his head at the crunch of snow as the rest of the party arrived.
"67," Damocles said in a tone as icy as the cutting wind over the loud chattering of Vaudeville's teeth. "Have you found them?"
"Dey are somebwhere around 'ere," 67 snuffled.
From over his high collar Damcoles narrowed his eyes sharply. "Somewhere?"
"Don't loog at be like dat," 67 grumbled sourly, assuming and rightly so he was being glared at. "Id's dis cold! I can't smell anyding. And de're footprints got all cobered up."
Standing as still as a statue, Damocles absorbed this news with unfathomable calm. Straightening he look all about them, from the narrow path they had followed so far to the one yet ascending ahead, gracing the fringe of the cliff. Looking over the side there were only sheer rock straight down, ending in snow encamped foothills, and up above merely further cliff.
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Skreeran
Character: Snowmane
Location: Dragonblight
Snowmane patiently waited for the man to finished his coughing fit.
"And what are you? A bronze dragon?" she asked, quite impatient for answers. "How can I know you don't mean me harm?"
Character: Kitanga
Location: Dragonblight
Kitanga, walking upright in orc form, followed Rotha. "Do you think there are many other survivors?" she asked hopefully, glancing sadly at the orc child. "I... I really don't like seeing destruction of this sort."
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Skreeran
Character: Kitanga
Location: Dragonblight
"I don't understand why she did this..." Kitanga answered, sighing. "What happened that filled her with this much hate?"
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Skreeran
Character: Kitanga
Location: Dragonblight
Kitanga took a deep breath. "Reminds me of my sister," she replied, sighing again. "I don't know how to deal with that kind of hate. What can you say that won't just make them hate you more?"
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Aimsyr
Vashadya Duskwind
Feralas
Vashadya nodded understandingly and wrapped her other arm around the troll children, attempting to comfort them as well.
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
oneforthemoney
Character:
Varyn Brighthammer, Mordecai
Location:
Sanctum beneath the Sands
"I am not a dragon," the child replied in a tone far too mature for his age. Spinning about his torch suddenly caught upon a vast bronze gate filling the cave. They were two vast bronze constructs, their faces inscribed with a pair of massive rings with small indentations representing numbers and degrees. The small ring separating the two had a great many simple designs depicting various Azerothian races in the midst of some activity be it hurling a spear, walking, running or even swimming. The inner circle on the other hand was filled with all the stars of the night sky. Each representative of a star was formed from a small piece of glass gracing a varying groove in the metal. Most striking of all however was that many of these pieces of glass were connected by thin, silvery beams of light, and through them formed the representations of the Azerothian constellations. In surprise Varyn peered at the collection, and realized he did not recognize a great many of them.
From around his neck the boy produced a tony bronze key with a handle curling in the outline of a grinning dragon. "My master, however, is." He then pushed the key into a hole in the center and gave it a light quarter turn.
Whirring, clicking, ticking with noise the doors came alive. The figures running the ring lurched into motion. The beams of light abruptly faded as their glass beads moved about their grooves in predetermined patterns. With a sound of gears locking the motion ceased and, as it did so, the beams of light returned, now creating the constellation the trio were more familiar with.
"Please follow me," the old man intoned as he led the way through the gate.
Still staring with marvel at the doors, Varyn stumbled after the man with Mordecai ever at his side.
Varyn stopped with even greater awe than before as he stepped into an antechamber as vast as the hall of a cathedral dedicated to industry. Pillars made of hourglasses rose and fell like pistons into the floor and ceiling, their speed seeming to be determined by how swift the sand within them fell. Following their motions, the mage was startled to realize the floor he stood on was made of glass, and within it were held hundreds of thousands tiny gears, some spinning randomly in space, others stock still, and still others turning at a plodding pace.
Looking up, Varyn saw that the ceiling such as it was did not exist. Rather, it seemed formed of a vast stream of gold made of hundreds of millions of threads propelled forth by the vast mechanism of the pillars like some grand knitting machine. Following their route he was confronted by a wall made in the night elven style.
Perhaps most remarkable of all was the quiet of all this constant motion in the room. What little noise there was quickly faded to the back of a person's perception, as though it didn't exist even as it toiled so near the ear, lurking on the edge of awareness like a vague idea one can't quite grasp.
On the other side of the room, waiting at the door leading out, stood a man of extremely square appearance. His shoulders were rigid, his frame boxy and dressed simply but smartly in plain bronze shirt, jacket and tie ensemble. He appeared middle age, yet his bearing made one think he was far older. His hair was black short cut, while sideburns coloured silver ran down before his ears and stopping before slightly drooping jowls. Before his eyes rested a pair of tinted sunglasses giving only tantalizing hints of what lay behind them. He had a phlegmatic, almost depressed look about him as though he had long forgotten the meaning of happiness for happiness sake.
The man looked at the new arrivals dully. Then, he uncrossed his arms and threw a pitifully small amount of confetti in the air followed by an almost depressing blow on a small paper party horn.
"Congratulations," he said in a monotone like someone was grinding gravel in his throat. "You have arrived. I am known by many names. I am mainly called the Copper King. I am...uncertain just why. I welcome you to my home." He looked about the place as though confirming that he might call it as such. "You all must be tired," he again addressed the group. "Would you like some beverages?"
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