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Live
PTR
10.2.7
PTR
10.2.6
Beta
Industrial Azeroth {Open RP}
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Post by
470415
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
470415
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
470415
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
470415
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
470415
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
470415
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
470415
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
470415
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
470415
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
470415
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
470415
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Post by
Atik
Alana
Goldshire
Night had fallen over the once small town of Goldshire, and in the past one might have expected stars to twinkle high up in the sky, complimenting the light provided by Azeroth’s twin moons. However, as the street lights shone brightly along the road, the stars found themselves outshined and invisible to the naked eye.
Not that such a thing concerned a certain half-netherdrake at the moment.
The girl looked to be in her mid-teens, resembling a half-elf in her humanoid guise. Her hair was a dark blue, stretching down to her neck in length. Atop her head, acting like a headband usually, were a pair of goggles, normally covered up by her hood when it was up; the head of a worg sown into it. Her shirt was white, covered in grease and various other stains. A black jacket covered it, the furred top of the hood being brown in contrast. Blue jeans and dark boots completed her outfit.
Alana climbed out of her window slowly and quietly, checking the time on her watch before dropping from the second floor of her house. She landed in the grass softly, moving quickly to the front of the Alchemy shop; run by her older sister in absence of their parents.
A black, single-wheeled motorcycle sat propped against the front wall. Alana grabbed it; pushing it along into the road for now, out of fear of waking any inside.
Olet Hopewell
Western Lordarean, Bulwark
The high elf shaman was young and a little short for her kind. She had long blond hair that was normally tied back into a ponytail, and glowing blue eyes.
Olet sat atop the Bulwark wall; staring out towards the disturbingly tainted territory of the Forsaken. She sighed, gripping her bow tight.
Ferin Hopewell
Desolace
The motorcycle sped along through the area, the Tauren anarchist glancing back with a grimace. He lit the cloth of a moltove cocktail; tossing it back at the man running behind him at impressive speeds.
“Get back here!” Ferin yelled, the flames erupting around him as the bottle exploded. He shoved them off to the sides, runes glowing along his legs and shining through his pants.
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Atik
-
Stormwind
Through the halls of the guildhouse, a small orb floated. It was matallic, covered in draconic runes hat glowed blue and pulsed; leaving a trail behind the machine as it made its way through the darkness with a low hum as its only sound for now.
The orb went to turn the corner, meaning to make its way into the dorm after Evan. It suddenly bumped into the door, shaking slightly before floating in place for a moment.
Alana
Goldshire
Alana looked at the image on the small, black and white screen of the control for her projector orb, grumbling. "Fine." She pouted, setting it back in her coat pocket as she pulled up her hood and jumped onto her motorcycle.
She revved the engine, starting up the single-wheeled machine before taking off through the night air.
Ferin Hopewell
Desolace
Ferin flailed. "Wha-huh-who?" He shouted, being picked up and dragged away far too quickly for comfort.
Post by
Behelich
Character
: Lisciel and Turinhil Dawnchaser
Location
: Silvermoon City
The furious clattering of the keys died away. He pulled the report out and pushed the typewriter away, glancing across the small, still drying letters before taking out a luxurious dragonhawk quill, dipping it into an inkwell and leaving a wide, elaborate signature. He then glanced at his left wrist, mechanically reaching to roll up his sleeve before remembering he had done so already, and staring dully for several seconds at his stained hands before finally focusing on the wrist watch. He still had almost five minutes before the helicopter would arrive to take him away - five minutes, and not a second less, for the recipient of the report was a person so efficient and punctual some joked him to be more a machine than an elf, a perfected mechanism built to serve his people.
The elf drummed his fingers against the ebony tabletop, then his hand slipped down to one of the drawers that he pulled open slowly. He retrieved a single, old image of a little girl bouncing on the fluffiest little cloud imaginable, and stared at it until the sound of the rotor blades slowing down to a halt tore him out of his torpor.
He shook his head, a couple of tears in his eyes glistening ever so brightly in the treacherous moonlight before they disappeared from sight. The archmage rose, carefully putting the image into a pocket closest to his heart, then donned a trenchcoat and a fedora hat over his formal garb, sealed the drawer, put his report into a croc-skin briefcase and headed out in wide steps.
Soldiers in soot-black and blood-red saluted Archmage Lisciel Dawnchaser as he boarded the vehicle that would carry him to the mighty Blood Lord Kareithel Arroval.
One of the Blood Knights to have volunteered to help Selindera and Marcin, a fine specimen of average height and far, far broader shoulders and more impressive musculature than it was the norm for the species, wiped his forehead and scratched his glorious beard of the same ashen blond color as the mane of his father. He rolled his neck and headed towards Selin, tugging his big, scar-covered hands into the pockets of his simple sweatpants, of black cotton with two red stripes.
"Nervous, are we?" Turinhil Dawnchaser, the young son to Lisciel and twin brother to Naia, spoke to the other Blood Knight, with his trademark ear-to-ear grin shining brightly through his beard.
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
470415
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
Adamsm
Kiran Hartford, Koran Lighthammer
Menethil Harbour, the Wetlands
"Land ho!" A voice yelled and Kiran looked up, a little bleary eyed. The half-elf sighed and stretched, rubbing at his temples.
"Told ya not to challenge me lad." A deep voice rumbled beside him, and he looked down at the grinning face of Koran.
"Oh shut up." Kiran growled, and watched as the ship docked at the harbour. "I..." He trailed off and shook his head, heading towards the plank, the half-dwarf stumping along beside him.
Tae'sash Firebloom
Tranquillen
"And a pinch of that, a little of this...and voila!" Tae'sash said, finishing the potion...which exploded. "Um..I meant to do that?" Tae said, looking over at his familiar, a large serpent that seemed to make a hissing chuckling noise. "Oh shut up Aya." He grumbled.
The Blood Elf sat back in a chair in his room in the inn, absently wiping at his face as a simple spell cleaned the room of the debris from his mistake. "That was going to work, you know it." He told his snake, who shook her head at him before coiling around his shoulders, making him chuckle as he patted her head.
Post by
Atik
-
Stormwind
The orb stared back at Evan, floating for a moment before shimmering and forming a projection of Alana. It was in black and white, hovering off the ground slightly as she waved in greeting.
Ferin Hopewell
Desolace
"Cora?" Ferin asked, blinking. "What the fel?"
Vira Darkbreeze
Darrowshire
The undead elf stood watch as a number of Forsaken worked away; moving wood and other building supplies to and fro.
The town hall was one of the last buildings the Dark Ranger had wanted to spend time rebuilding and, more importantly, improving. The architecture of the small town was not that of the 'New Forsaken' as the living dead of Tirisfal had taken to calling themselves occasionally. These people, those who had found themselves disgusted with Sylvannas' actions, preferred to remember their past lives.
As a result, their town looked much more like the many others that filled the rebuilt Lordarean lands.
The woman herself stood tall, long brown hair falling just past her shoulders. Her eyes glowed red, as one might expect from any Dark Ranger. Her standard black clothing, however, was absent. Instead, she wore armor more like what she had once worn in life; a dark green cloak.
"Careful." She called out as power tools started to come into use. "We don't need to be resowing anyone's arm on."
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
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