A Furry Foray Part 2

A lurching feeling quaked through Delith’s belly as she jumped into the swirling blue portal. The feeling dissipated almost as quickly as it came though. Taking a step forward, she barely avoided her compatriots emerging from the portal behind her. Deep throat-ed grunts let her know someone had landed on one of the dwarves.

Delith paid them little attention though, instead surveying the cold labyrinth before her. Cold air breezed from three directions as she peered in, each issuing from one of the tree tunnels breaking off the central room she looked into now. Gazing across from the entrance something shimmered blocking what Delith presumed was the direct route to her goals. Retreating wyrmkin moved away, down the flanking halls. Delith able only to make out the darker blues and whites of their tails; sighed thankful no enemies would confront them so early.


Published in: on October 7, 2009 at 6:35 pm  Leave a Comment  
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A Furry Foray Part 1

Delith stood before the Kirin Tor wizard, bedecked in pink robes inlaid with gold. A singular spot between her shoulder blades itching; too much time spent out of her natural form. Delith tried to ignore the urge to shift into bear form which seemed to reside in the itch, the concentration not to change making it difficult to focus on the wizard’s words.

“Essentially, you’ve something to be retrieved from the Nexus? Since Malygos sees fit to replenish his forces within the last expedition’s success hasn’t been…lasting?” Delith inquired, tired of listening to his prater about the vagaries of magic within the Nexus. He had been lecturing on temporal displacement…whatever he meant by that. It was all outside the scope of a druid’s work but then Malygos’ actions were having a profound affect on the natural world, and thus her willingness to intervene.

“Hmm? Yes. As I was stating…” he began again.

“Fine, I suppose you are willing to reward well enough for another expedition. I know a few souls to trust my back with. How large an expedition are you looking to send?” Delith cut him short. Too much time as a bear eroded her natural elven patience.

The wizard snapped a disapproving gaze up to her. There were some benefits to being a night elf in a negotiation. “It should take no more than five and a skilled expedition would likely achieve our goals with but four.”


Published in: on October 5, 2009 at 9:03 pm  Comments (2)  
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Madness Reigns

Ulduar Base Camp Triage-

Zhavi paused adjusting the cloth band between her horns, shoving more hair back into place before moving to the next screaming soldier. Soldier wasn’t the word for it. These were bands of adventurers, friends she had walked into Ulduar with, intent on ending Yogg-Saron’s threat. Freezing wind buffeted the cloak clasped tight at her shoulders. Again, Zhavi muttered a prayer to the Naaru and Light that her hooves didn’t register the frigid rock under them. Another scream brought her back to the moment and away from the now forgotten prayer.

Most of the screams were incoherent raving, sometimes though a friend would call out clear as day with threats and pleading. Mach’s voice split the air above the others; words of power coursed through the sound. Zhavi couldn’t make out the words and didn’t need to. Light flashed around the restrained dwarf in pulses. Maddened and deranged, the Light still answers his call creating small novas of Light around Mach.

On the edge of the makeshift triage, Mach’s cot was furthest from the others; shielding them from the attacks centered on him. Zhavi looked back to find another healer to help her sooth Mach but they seemed further away deeper in the rows of cots tending others. Shielding herself before stepping forward, Zhavi grabbed the bottom of the cot and began straining to drag it further away, away from the others, away from the warmth of the base fires, away. Light blasting her hands, Zhavi left him below the great broken bridge leading to Ulduar. As the Light pulsed, snow melted in a perfect circle around Mach.

“This isn’t how we were supposed to end this.” Wearily Zhavi returns to the rest of the cots, turning back for one last look at Mach, there is a small fire lit by his cot. But I didn’t light the fire. Swift as the thought comes, it is forgotten as if taken by the now howling winds. Weaving between cots, Zhavi hastily looks at the wounds of her fallen comrades. The other healers farther away still. So many bodies…so many wounds. We went in to stop the madness.

Her eyes too blurry from exhaustion to make out faces Zhavi began taking count of the bodies, matching armor to names. Countless time spent with friends training, drilling, preparing for their attacks in both Naxx and Uld, she knew their armors well. Her mind begain to float as it ticked off names as Zhavi moved from cot to cot, remembering the final encounter before their retreat to this frozen camp.


Tay stood in the center of the room, reviewing the strategy one last time, everyone splayed around him in a circle. The grey stone of the General’s room stealing their warmth, stained glass shards littered the floor. Everyone’s, but Med’s and his healers’ face was turned to Tay watching and listening intently. Med and his small group of seven healers tilted their heads down reviewing their healing assignments. Med and Tay had already gone over the strategy and Tay trusted Med to ensure the healer’s knew their job and kept everyone alive.

Tay reached the end of his debriefing, “You all know others have come here before, claiming to kill Yogg. You’ve all fought Hodir and Thorim and seen what lies Yogg can force you to believe. We go in there to stop this, we go to kill Yogg once and for all. DON’T let the madness get you. Freya has promised refuge in her green light, if your nerve frays get to the light!”


Tentacles whipped the air, smacking into anything nearby. Others grasped bodies lifting them into the air, coiling tighter, before slamming the body back to the ground viciously. Screams and wails filled the air, disciplined strategy lost. There are more injuries than Zhavi can heal, more magic leaching the life for friends and diseases sapping their strength than she can dispel. Eyes flicking in each direction, shielding each body her eyes glimpse. Trying to save friends in the maddening combat.

Maddens reigns the battlefield, too late she spares a moment for her own nerves. Feels them fraying under the weight of so many dead. Glancing back at the green glow behind her Zhavi begins making her way towards it. A tentacle slashed the air behind her blocking the path.

Green light bathed Zhavi in an eerie light but nerves were calmer. The frantic pace hadn’t changed nor the screams of the injured or maddened. The magic and disease around Yogg was destroying everyone as effectively as the tentacles sprouting from the stone. Another pulse and friends turned on friend. Zhavi felt the numbing cold of shadow magic sapping her. Not bothering to turn she let out a horrific scream, the sound chasing the closest enemies (once friends) from her.

Most of the band was dead or dying. The day was surely lost. Zhavi mind was losing focus again as she battled to heal the few remaining surviors and fend off the attacks of her once friends. Zhavi backed up; placing the door they had all entered in through with such grand intentions at her back. Araella’s plated form suddenly looked before her. Zhavi tired to discern if the paladin was still friend or foe before but was too slow as a bubble enveloped her. She watched as Arae’s lifeless form fell to the ground in front of her, unseeing eyes fixed on Zhavi still.

Cut off from the fray, helpless to do anything Zhavi watched as the last few valiantly fought on before succumbing either to madness or their wounds. It was cold inside her bubble. Heart beats passed. Yogg, unable to sense her inside the paladin’s final protection, sank once more below the stone floor; an innocent enough looking giantess taking his place.


Screams broke Zhavi’s remembering, bringing her back to cots surrounding her. Arae! Yes, I should find Arae, make sure the Light let her return to her body….

Zhavi set off looking again, but the fatigue made it so hard to make out the faces of her friends’; it was hard now even to recognize their armor. The cold was sapping at her even under the cloak, fatigue from the battle, dragging bodies out, and walking endlessly healing the newly resurrected drained her further.

The screaming again, it wouldn’t stop, on and on. Loud in her ears, Zhavi swirled around searching for the voice. Turning this way or that, there was no one screaming. OH! But it was growing louder in her ears. Reaching up to cup her ears from the noise…nothing, something paralyzed Zhavi, holding her fast.

Exhausted nerves give way to feverish panic, muscles straining against invisible restraints her world goes black as the restraints become tighter. In the darkness her throat is sore, her murky thoughts can’t focus as light begins filtering back in. The world was sideways and moving erratically making it difficult for Zhavi to gain her bearings again. The stone floor raising and falling and pale green light nearby seemed so familar. The screams were jarring her mind into focus.

Voice horse, Zhavi’s mind finally registered she was the one screaming. Screaming endlessly as her body was tossed in the grip of a tentacle. She was still inside Yogg, her friends still dying, some warped by Yogg’s magic into attacking their own comrads. With renewed vigor she began screaming with a deeper fear and terror. Her own screams the last thing her mind registering before the world went black plunging her into sweet oblivion.

Published in: on July 30, 2009 at 8:07 pm  Comments (3)  
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A Chill Wind Finds Illisan

Frigid ocean winds whipped up the shore, bringing Illisan back to the task at hand. Here the scourge thought to lay to waste the fledgling keep perched on the rocky shore. A dark grin lit up even her eyes, for behind the pathetic creatures on the shore was the will of the great twisted thing she truly hunted; a being more deserving of blade and bow than Illidan’s lost soul. The hunting would be good indeed.

The look of defeat on Maeve’s face has been a counterpoint to the victory in the Black Temple. Illisan had watched her keenly, wary of the warning Maeve represented to all those who hunt. Bow was laid down and a simpler life taken up. When the first calls of war rang, deeper into the branches of Teldrassil Illisan ranged. The haunted look in Maeve’s eyes, the demon she ran from.

No place in Azeroth is safe from Northrend’s chill these days. Visiting Rut’theran Village, intent to make her way further on to the tranquil lands of Moonglade, Illisan happened upon one of the boats bearing missives from the Northern War. Cursing herself for not marking the day and avoiding any who might try and bend her ear to the latest news. Illisan pulled her cloak’s hood over her head and hoped none would take note of her passing. Elune was not with her however, as a voice ringed out from the dock.

“Corporal Illisan of Darnasus?”

How long had she dodged having to answer to her old rank, a reminder of duties past? Old habits must die hard, for her back snapped at the boatman’s words.

“It’s been long since I lent my bow to war. Just a hunter now, tending the leaves of Teldrassil”

“Right…There’s a parcel here addressed to you ma’am. The hand is hard to read, an odd mix of dwarven and darnassin.” He handed over the heavy parcel, eyeing her; likely in hopes to the story behind the strange writing. He found none as Illisan wandered off holding the heavy parcel.

Illisan didn’t need to look at it to know who sent it and guess at the contents. The script and mix of language a clear sign of who the author was and if she was a day over 100 she knew the lashing likely heaped upon at the writer’s hand. Illisan had made Cruzor a promise before joining in the final offensive on the Temple, should war come he would find her by his side in the hunts to come. Cruzor would dance around it but Illisan couldn’t…she was an oath breaker for letting him walk into the frozen wastes alone. No amount of telling herself that Henry’s claws would keep any trouble from Cruz would change the fact; she should’ve gone and not run.

Moonspell looked up at her, black tail flipping from side to side, waiting for the inevitable decision to move north came. Looking down at the great black feline, Illisan shrugged, the letter could wait for the long boat rides ahead; first to Stormwind and from there north. Moonspell’s hackles raised and Illisan patted her bow as a north wind began to howl.

Published in: on June 11, 2009 at 6:34 pm  Leave a Comment