Skin Thieves 2: Northwind (August 5th-12th)

[Bwoyar]

Man, I wish I joined earlier. Would've liked to have been a part of this.

[CappnRob]

THE PENULTIMATE DAY

CHECKLIST IS GO:


-Wake up because the Commander SET EVERYTHING ON FIRE
-Regroup with everyone, time to siege the Keep!
-Expect to fight the Revenant, but instead go straight to the Commander. Ok.
-Don't actually fight the Commander, because Clovis has to redeem him or something even though he did nothing to earn it. Pft.
-Judgement still cracks his skull open, though.
-Keep burns down, everyone escapes, but now without their leader the spirits are going to go wild. Goodie.
-Inn, like the blacksmith and Alchemy shop before it, goes back to normal.
-Have some R and R while Clovis explains how we escape this place tomorrow
-Gregg got naked ewwww.
-Go look for Orvisha's art supplies, and hear a voice in your head.
-Judgement calls you over to the church alone. Go expecting some huge deal.
-Instead have a hugely humbling experience reliving the Battle of Shattrath.
-And then as a Broken and Lost One. Character development!
-Go back to the inn and cry your eyes out, then go to sleep.
-Wake up, feel much better. Voragh is dancing, dance with him!
-Voragh and Caravan really like draenei dancing.
-Ask Orvisha to draw portraits of your fallen comrades from Shattrath. Nostalgic.
-In turn, show Orvisha how to write names in Draenei typography. Culture sharing!
-Eat a sandwhich. Om nom.
-Check on Voragh after he goes outside with some pots and doesn't comes back out
-Listen to people ask Judgement questions
-Thank him for the vision because character development
-Go back inside, realize Voragh left a pot of boiling water on, stupid!
-The kitchen is now a sauna. SHIRTS OFF!
-Voragh might be Rekka's father. Support his endeavors of fatherliness!
-Go for a walk in the quiet snowfall with Orvisha
-thats in no way shipteasing at all
-Teach Orvisha about PALADIN CULTURE
-Have a snowball fight like tiny children
-Warm up inside one of the small houses
-Talk about your VISION with Orvisha
-Talk about respecting orcs with Orvisha
-Shuffle back to the inn for sleep
-Stay up late anyway because of Devosh and Jami
-Go to sleep decidedly feverless
-Gantrithor: 1, Poor Health Choices: 0


TO

BE

CONCLUDED.

[Dae]

So... I have decided to kill Flora off, and I probably won't be around for the ending of the event, I figured I'd write an IC post here to explain what happened. If Grakor or Rigley are particularly opposed to her dying this way, I'll change it. Otherwise, here it is, and sorry that it's a bit rough, but I don't really have too much time to mull it over, so :P

________________________

"I believe that area has been blocked off," the scarred Blood Elf had told her.

Flora couldn't help but have difficulty believing it; this alleged fact simply did not make sense to her. Why would have it been blocked off? Had there been another event that had transpired while possessed by one of the thieves? It simply did not feel right, though Flora would seek out the chapel either way. She had to. The confirmation that she would return to her Forsaken state, body and soul irreconcilably perverted by death and Shadow…
She had to feel the Light again. She needed that searing bliss to course through her, and have it bring her warmth and comfort. After years of the divine being a burning threat, harming her if she should ever seek it out, she felt critical of her own memories which told her that it was a true joy. These past several days had been a blessing only what seemed like moments; despite enjoying food, the warm fur of a platonic, friendly beast and the more carnal warmth of bare flesh against her own, the rest was near unbearable. The cold was bitter and hunger seemed like a constant distraction for someone who has not maintained the habit of regular meals for almost a decade. The worst, though, was the sheer pain that seemed requisite to life.
As Forsaken, pain was not lost on Flora, who could still experience such sensations from various magical means. But to the degree which it lingers and distorts the mind as a live human being astounded her. It had never once occurred to her that, in life, she had never experienced true pain. Not even a broken bone, short of the day she had died. And pain wasn't the only thing that seemed to cloud her mind; every emotion, from the mildest joy to the despair intended for her in this place, she all felt. Butterflies, heartache, a clenching chest- Innumerable facets of the human experienced that she had not considered and found nearly impossible to negotiate…

But that wouldn't matter soon, anyway.

Nevertheless, the Blood Elf's words nagged at her as she trudged through the chilling winds and perpetual snow coating this wicked town. Flora had returned the leathery cloak that a lady orc had lent to her- someone whose name escaped her. While this was somewhat comforting, as her frequent forgetfulness was not a sign that her mind slipping away from her lifeless form, she was now very cold. The fact that her robe was now cut and burned, and that she had volunteered her undershirt for a wounded man only compounded the issue.

as Flora rounded a partition in the city's walls, she found that the elf had been incorrect. The section of town in which the chapel had been situated in was plainly available. It not be as warm as the inn she had left behind her, of course, but the stone structure would provide sanctuary from the frigid gale and unending snow. Finding strength she was not previously aware of, she reached the stoop of the building, and gingerly climbed the icy stone steps. She tugged at the large, metal door handles, finding it open. Once inside, Flora attempted to close the door, struggling to defy the heavily compacted snow that she had just brought into being by the act of opening. She felt a sudden, sharp burning sensation in her left arm, and after considering the feeling for a moment, understood that she had pulled a muscle. Flora had come to rely so heavily upon the incredible stamina of the Undead, but alive she was so fragile. Her living self was no warrior. A competent young farmer's wife, for sure, but nothing close to the person she would have had to have been to match the feats her undead self routinely carried out.
Holding her arm, Flora's train of thought led her to consider a very conflicted part of herself. Or maybe it wasn't actually all that conflicted, but that bared the harsh truth- that she was no longer suited to being alive.
As the thought crossed her mind, the combination of grief and the exhaustion from the cold brought her to her knees, still holding her arm. Flora had always slightly feared that who she was now could have simply been a side-effect of the dark magic involved in raising the dead, but the disharmony between herself now and this rejuvenated, warm body made this anxiety much more real. But perhaps the Light would dismiss this feeling?
The paladin Clovis had assured her that there would be time to stop at the Chapel before attempting the final steps of escape, but she was skeptical of his sentiment. Flora craved feeling the Light again, and it seemed to her that his intentions were to bring dozens of people to this holy site for a few moments to make talk of battle plans and cast a few sacred wards on the group, or something else equally fleeting and disinteresting.
Flora took a deep breath, attempting to stave off the physical sensations that her anger and frustration caused to well up in her abdomen. Taking this as a cue, she stood and proceeded down the aisle, to the alter, which was bare save for one dimly flickering candle. Body quaking from the cold, and teeth chattering incessantly, she kneeled at the altar and got down on her knees in a position of prayer. Flora had been able to invoke the Light through prayer in the past, even at times after her death. These instances had not been grand displays of holy miracles, nor even anywhere near the magnitude of spells regularly cast by a paladin or the priest of the Holy Light. They were only these mild but exquisite sensations of warmth from within herself, that she could experience when surrounded by others in prayer and exuding their own passion for the Light….

The realization struck her like a sack of bricks. She had traveled all this way across town in this weather, with inadequate clothes to have a moment with the divine, but she had never been able to invoke such power without the company of others. How can she expect it to come now, simply at her demand?

She continued to shiver as the interior of the chapel, while relatively warmer than the snowy and blustery outside, was much more cold than she had expected and remembered. Anxiety growing, she placed her hands together and attempted a prayer, waiting intently for any sign of the Light.

Nothing happened.

Flora continued through her entire repertoire of hymns, prayers, and even a few of the sermons the elderly pastor from her childhood had a tendency to repeat ad nauseum, contemplating on some, and simply reciting others. Again, Flora was met with a noticeable lack of any sensation of the divine. She tried shifting her position to become more comfortable, and found that her legs were numb from the cold and her having sat on them during her religious moment. Leaning up against the altar, Flora gingerly removed a ragged boot and tried wiggling her toes. They moved stiffly, though she could not feel them at all. She proceeded to rub her feet and replace her boots, quickly regretting her actions as it had only seemed to make her hands cold and wet from the snow that had built up on her footwear. She hugged herself tightly, hands under her arms for warmth, though it proved to do little to fight the bitter chill.
Flora watched the door, with a faint hope that it would open, and the others would walk right in, as though they had been their waiting for her the whole time. This reminded her of the kindness she had repeatedly spurned when hysterical earlier this week. Such thoughts of the others' prior sincerity renewed her hope, and Flora forced herself to pray again, with greater confidence and faith.

But again, nothing happened.

Flora looked back at the door, knowing very well that outside was even more dangerous than the conditions in here. She had been foolish to not take the elf's word for truth back at the inn, and even more a fool to not turn back upon discovering that the town seemed to not be blocked off any more than she had experienced personally. The extended session of prayer was what had bound her to this building for the night, though; without the rejuvenation she had so foolishly expected from the Light, she lacked the stamina to make it back to the others. The second prayer session had just been inspired by a brief moment of hope, which faded as the Light still denied her.
Flora hugged her legs to her chest, shivering violently and feeling utterly exhausted, and contemplated the state of things. She had told Clovis that she had wanted to stop at the church- he wouldn't go against his word, would he? Or surely the Blood Elf she had spoken to earlier would remember where she had mentioned she wanted to go? Surely they'll find her?

But none of that would matter soon;
Sleep nagging at every aspect of her being, Flora closed her eyes, ending her final moments of life.

[Clovis]

Not gonna lie Dae. That bummed me out something fierce. :\

[CappnRob]

CRISTO WILL RES HER

HE

HAS

TO

...

please? D:

[Reese]

Now that the Event is over and done, ima tip my hat to both Grakor and Rigley for running and, moreso, designing the event. I've never been so afraid in WoW than when Gregg was alone in the mist and snow and suddenly I see the outline of a statue coming closer with every blink.

Me:

Good show, old boys. The both of you. You are Gentlemen and Scholars.

[Grakor456]

The event is over! ICly, everyone went down into the catacombs and destroyed the source of the skin thief problem, a creature looking similarly to a beating heart in a rib-cage. Doing so killed s a group of Scourge cultists and caused a collapse. Afterwards, Judgement saw everyone off on another zeppelin, which in turn crashed outside of Northwind. Argents rescued them and a portal to Dalaran was summoned.

I hope everyone enjoyed the event! Thank Rigley immensely for it as well! If you have any feedback, Rigley has a thread in the Feedback Requests subforum, so feel free to leave your thoughts there!

[Rigley]

Have some credits music:

Spoiler:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y35DO_WfWvA

(I enjoy music for cinematic's sake. Could you tell?)

[Hawk]

Massive thanks to Rigley and Grakor who made the event possible. Awesome doesn't even cut it. Great job guys!

[Dae]

Not gonna lie Dae. That bummed me out something fierce. :\

...Clovis went to the chapel before the catacombs, right? Right?
Oh god, I am so mean to Flora. ;-;

CRISTO WILL RES HER

HE

HAS

TO

...

please? D:

I do intend on having her revived, whether it be by the powers of retcon, Deus Ex Machina, or anything else to get her body out. So yeah, Flora'll be "alive" again.
...At some point. I'll go ahead and revisit the character revival stuff.


Still, guys, Awesome event. Most epic I've had on a video game all year, and that's saying something, 'cause I just beat Bastion. <3

[c0rzilla]

Orvisha found Flora with Gregg and Soran, looking for her to give her the portrait. She then brought her to the inn, and gave the portrait to Clovis to give to Cristovao. Flora's taken to Hearthglen by either Clovis or Gantrithor.

99% sure it's Clovis.

[CappnRob]

Not gonna lie Dae. That bummed me out something fierce. :\

...Clovis went to the chapel before the catacombs, right? Right?
Oh god, I am so mean to Flora. ;-;

CRISTO WILL RES HER

HE

HAS

TO

...

please? D:

I do intend on having her revived, whether it be by the powers of retcon, Deus Ex Machina, or anything else to get her body out. So yeah, Flora'll be "alive" again.
...At some point. I'll go ahead and revisit the character revival stuff.


Still, guys, Awesome event. Most epic I've had on a video game all year, and that's saying something, 'cause I just beat Bastion. <3

Gantrithor carried the body out of Northwind, and Clovis will be breaking the news to Cristovao.

If Flora gets a burial, expect Cristovao to have an emotional breakdown and DIG HER OUT OF HER GRAVE because this guys seriously needs therapy.

In all seriousness, I would like Cristovao to be the reviver, if you don't mind!

---

THE FINAL DAY IS HERE

GANTRITHOR'S CHECKLIST:

-Wake up feeling great! Suck it, fever.
-Go down stairs armored up
-Find out Flora froze to death in the middle of the night inside the church. That's a moodkiller.
-Yell at people for arguing about humans and forsaken during a tragic moment. No respect I tell ya.
-Head for the catacombs with everyone
-Go into the catacombs with everyone
-Behold horrific nightmare creatures with everyone
-Take over carrying Flora's body for Math
-SWEET LIGHT OF THE NAARU WHAT IS THAT CHAINED THING
-Watch Clovis handle the situation like a pro, got all armored and geared up for nothing.
-Escape a horrible cave in!
-See a zeppelin arrive. Run the whole way to the tower cheering, hooting, and laughing joyously.
-Exchange most excellent displays of affection for Voragh and Orvisha as we depart
-Feel the wind blow in your helmet hair. Good feel man.
-Have some more displays of affection for Voragh and Orvisha as you all go separate ways...
-Now, there are a few good draenei who need proper respects given in Shattrath city... and much meditation needed on your own behalf.


~FIN~

Gantrithor will return in...

idk Draenei Pilgrimage I guess.

[Kage]

D... Dead..? Flora...? D:

[falcophoenix]

I GREATLY enjoyed this as well, when I was able to play, which thankfully was most of the time except for today. ;u; Had to miss the finale of all things baw. But the plot was immensely enjoyable and I adored all the character development, happy that widdle Agatha got some growth as well even if there was no "final" resolution for her.

[Dae]

Spoiler:

…Only to open them again to the sounds of heavy footsteps echoing through the chapel.

Flora rallied her remaining strength, and turned to face a figure, in heavily decorated armor. Speaking softly, and through chattering teeth, she addressed the man.
"Clovis?"

The drowsiness that weighed her body and mind lifted slightly, her thoughts organizing enough for her to understand that this figure was not Clovis, but someone else entirely. More loudly, she asked, "Who are you?"

"I am a priest. A judge."

The voice was not unfamiliar, but with her thoughts still hazy; she could not place it. Even comprehending the concepts of "Priest" and "Judgement," seemed impossible, though with a moment of focus, Flora seemed comfortable enough with the ideas to speak.
"But I thought that priests were people who spread the Word of the Holy Light?"
That… Seemed right.

But the man corrected her, in a stoic tone, "Perhaps that was my job, long ago."

He might have said more, but if he had, Flora did not hear it as she was occupied by again staving off the oblivion of slumber. His eyes seemed to shine through his mask, but they were slightly obscured- he was not watching her. It was as though he were looking somewhere above her, but whatever it could be she could not recall. He spoke again, disrupting her thoughts.

"You come here alone, my child. In the dead of night. Might I ask why?"

The answer to this question was somewhere within her, either in her mind or in her heart. Flora thought hard, eventually coming up with something she deemed vague, but sufficient enough to answer his question. She stammered a moment, before finally getting the words out:
"I just wanted the Light again. Before I had to leave. I needed proof that it was Good."

As the words left her mouth, she knew the phrasing was awkward, but the sentiment was true enough. What the man would say next would agitate her greatly.

"And you require the light to show itself to you for this. I suppose to some, the saying is true. 'To see is to believe.'"

But she did have Faith. Why else would she have been in this cold, dark chapel alone? Flora attempted to explain, "I only have memories of a time in which the light was so warm, so familiar. Memories I cannot trust."

The man did something to change his posture. Something with his shoulders. However, the implications were lost on her. He asked her simply, "What is Faith but trust in a higher power?"

He didn't understand. Flora's problem with Faith was not in the Light as so much as herself. She attempted to explain further, "But who I am is nothing but a product of memories- when I had only a few, terrible ones, I was so hateful… So miserable… Then as I remembered more, everything I had felt before seemed like a lie. I don't want to rely on my past. I want to be able to put it behind me."
Pausing for a moment, she added, "And I want my future to have light, but it didn't come."

"One who does not commune with the Light cannot hope for it to come forth easily. Not all may invoke it, after all. Yet all may still have faith."

This turned Flora's agitation to anger. She spoke in the harshest tone that she could muster, "Is it really too much to ask for some proof? To feel the Light again before I return to my rotting, Shadow-laden self?!"

"For a creature steeped in Sin, that any of them may call forth the power of Divinity is a desperate plea."

Calling her Undead condition "Sin" further upset Flora, but she did not find it all that unsurprising. Plenty of people condemned the Forsaken for an existence they had not brought upon themselves. What got her talking was a second implication made in his words.
"Oh, so you're not supposed to invoke the light when in need?" Flora said, somewhat proud of herself for managing a faint tone of sarcasm.

"Of course my child, but it is a Blessing that it replies to any at all."

The man's gaze finally shifts to Flora, blazing eyes causing her to flinch for only a second. She stared right back at him, though partly because moving would require more energy than she felt she could spare. His answers were not appeasing her. She continued, "Why is it too much to ask to feel the Light again?!"
She added, in a more pleading tone, "Why?"

The man said nothing, and only continued to stare at him. This prompted further outburst, "What, are you another figment of this cursed city? Mocking me with that paladin getup?!"

He was bringing her no comfort nor salvation. The man seemed only to embody the same disparaging sentiment that had plagued her since her death. Flora was about to make another remark, when he said something that made her heart clench.

"my child, I may yet allow you to feel the Light, if you so desire."

The manifestations of anger left her body: her shoulders fell, her hands opened from clenched fists, and her expression became open and receptive. She took a few deep breaths and, unable to understand the intricacies of what he was implying, responded with one word: "Explain."

The man nodded slightly, and rephrased his query.

"I asked if you wish to feel the Light."

Slurred slightly by her shivering, Flora blurted out, "I do."
She could hear the desperation in her voice, but it was fitting. She was desperate.

"Then the Light shall give its judgement upon you."

The man's form shifted to face her, slightly raising a shining, Light-filled hand. He extended it to Flora. If she had more energy, she would have scrambled to her feet, only to throw herself to her knees in front of him, but she did as best as she could now to crawl foreword and situate herself in something resembling a position of prayer. She looked up at the man intently. He took a step foreword, bringing the Light in his hand close enough for her to touch. It was beautiful. She could feel it on her face, like the most soothing ray of sun. He made a subtle gesture with his hand, which she took as a cue. Flora raised her hands to the Light, and it filled her entire being with a most blessed warmth. Hardly able to contain her feelings, tears ran down her cheeks, and she laughed in joy. Her breaths were shallow, apparently hyperventilating from the emotionally overwhelming experience. She found herself speaking her thoughts.
"Oh, it is Good and True…" Flora noticed that the man must have turned away from her some moments ago, but the Light still lingered with her. This somehow struck her as strange, but she paid it little heed as she continued to bask in this blessed comfort.
The man echoed her sentiment.

"It is."

His next words robbed her of her elation.

."But through the Light there is judgement. It is good. It is true..."

Flora stopped laughing, but the shortness of breath only grew stronger. It was as though something other than air filled her lungs with each breath. She barely noticed him walking away, leaving her alone at the foot of the altar. The man did finish his thought, an addition which would send her into a panic.

"...But you are not worthy of it."

Flora doubled over, clenching her chest as she attempted to breathe. She gasped and wheezed, but nothing seemed to sate her deprived lungs. The man's next words, though not above a whisper, seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"Perhaps there is greater purpose for you. Perhaps there is hope. If it is willed, you will yet rise. If it wills not. . ."

Urgency panged at her heart, and Flora kicked at the ground, attempting to gain purchase on the cold stone floor. After repeated failed attempts with her legs, she tried pulling herself up by holding onto the altar, all the while her vision began to fade to white. Her hand slipped, and she hit the ground with a soft thud, ears now ringing. Strength fading quickly, she could barely move her fingers by the time he said his final words to her.

"…Mercy upon your soul."

Flora realized just how familiar this sensation was. She remembered the feeling of a loving Light quite vividly, and even as she could not breathe, it still warmed and comforted her. But that was not the only way she knew the Divine. What she felt now lacked the overwhelming pain that the Undead feel when exposed to such energy, but it still seemed to ebb at her very being, stealing away whatever magic bound her body and her soul. A dancing, vital force. A holy fire...

Flora's thoughts slowed to a stop, as did her breathing. Eyelids, having been wide open in terror, lowered only half way, freezing her in a forlorn stare at the doors of the chapel.