02-03-2013, 09:01 AM
Most likely I'll use this to jump back and forth between different storylines when they are all together doing something. Since I won't get a chance to have them all in the same room, being that I am all of them, I figure it'll be nice to have this for those who RP with me, just to fill in some plot holes. Sometimes it'll be way back before the second war, sometimes it'll just be a little adventure in Northrend. I'll label it with something like "Some time before the second war," or "Day one on Northrend," if it takes place before the current timeline.
While hunting in Desolace, a blood elf encountered two night elves. One peaceful, and the other hostile. After a short battle, he had found out that the one who wished his life knew his brother and his mission. We join him now on his ride home...
Asgrend rode hard through Kalimdor, bidding his steed to go faster. It seems it’s going as fast as it can, but damnit all why won’t it go faster?! He rode over hills, through plains, over water, instead of around it, thanks to his icy steps. The way was much quicker had he had to follow the paths normally. He had to get to his boat; he had to get to Northrend! Asgrend knew that Svenn would be staying at home this time, his business concluded in Azeroth for now. He had warn Svenn about the woman…
He had to get to him. Try to persuade him of his folly mission. Whatever this… book… he wants, is not worth his life. Literature never is! He saw the look in that womans eyes, Ish… Izsh… whatever…! He’d seen it many times. She wasn’t insane, there was nothing of that about her. No… this woman, she had the smell of murder about her, and the eyes of a killer. She had done this many times. She was the image of their death if they kept this adventure up.
After a full day of riding, he finally reached his boat on the shores of Durotar, and left his steed behind: Northrend is no place for a horse. Several hours of quick sailing on his skiff, and he reached the shores of Borean Tundra. He followed the coast line, hoping the winds would speed his travels to the Dragons Blight, where a snowy patch of land was waiting for him, what he called home. He practically crashed his ship along the rocky edges, and he would climb up from there. They all had to do this, it was the safest way. Or at least the most fun way. After cresting the top and battling some undead, he sprinted to their makeshift camp. It was dark, so it was easy to sneak back to it.
There they were, his father and his dear brother, Svenn, sitting by the fire and sharing a drink. They were surrounded by their small ram shack huts against the cliff sides. They smelled him coming before they heard him, and awaited him with drink in hand. Asgrend stared at his brother; Svenn had a large smile on his face, and their father kept the same expression he always had since their mother went missing, always hiding behind a cloth wrapped over his mouth and nose.
“Svenn, we need to talk.” Asgrend dropped some of his weapons, as was their custom when entering the camp: No weapons, so as to prevent inner strife.
“What’s this about, boy?” His father turned, his expression unreadable; always behind that damned mask of his…
“Asgrend, you look like you went through hell to get here.” Svenn stood, going to greet his brother with drink in hand, waiting to hand it to his brother. Asgrend has yet to get used to Svenns new smell; The stench of fel magic was a hard thing to get used to. Did this make him look at his brother differently…? Maybe it was just what happened in the last day.
“You remember that strange woman you told me about?” He approached the camp. Tiralid, their father, looked between the two of them as they spoke.
“Yes, what about her? She’s insane.” He took a seat.
“She’s not insane and you know it. She’s out for your life, dear brother.” Asgrend remained standing.
“Pff, I know this! She won’t succeed! Many have tried and they have all fallen. If she tries, she will simply fall with them. By Kael, man, nothing will happen!"
“Damnit, Svenn’Varal!” Asgrend stomped, bringing up a large puff of snow. It was the kind of stomp he used to kill someone, or shatter their spine. Svenn’s ears went back. Neither Svenn nor his brother liked their full names anymore. The humans gave them their nicknames, and they liked it. No one ever called him by his elven name, not even their father. Svenn stood, making to go to his hut, but only making it behind his chair.
“You -know- I hate being called that!” He spun round, glaring at his sibling.
“Well if it gets your attention then I’ll call you whatever I feel! This… book, tome or… Whatever it is! It can’t be that important, can it!? What…" He hesitated, trying to find the words, "What the hell does it do!? What’s so damned important about it!?”
Tiralid remained impassive. He understood that siblings need to argue from time to time. He did it with many of his brothers and sisters. It’s been a long time, though, since he had a sibling quarrel, since they all went missing in the Dark Portal.
Svenn stood there. He turned, making for his hut, but once again never made it, his back to the fires. Asgrend had it in his head that if he even thought about going into his hut to hide, he would attack him with no remorse. Tiralid simply sat, waiting. There was a howl in the distance, but other than that, it was quiet. It was always quiet where those three traveled. They picked a spot where there would be no undead, but they could still hear them if they listened close enough. There were almost no moans from the walking dead.
“It’s a magical tome.” He pulled out an ancient book. His father helped him read it, as he was the only one in their group who knew ancient elvish. He showed it to Asgrend. “It’s a summoning book. You remember those… uh… infernals?”
Asgrend’s eyes went wide. Actually, they glowed brighter, showing the same reaction. He looked at his father. “You knew about this!?” He pointed an accusing finger to Svenn.
Tiralid remained impassive. “It is his choice.”
“Well it's the wrong one! You know how horrible these things are!” Asgrend turned to Svenn. “Especially you! And you want to SUMMON one!? Have you lost your mind!?”
Svenn moved closer to his brother. “Think about it! I can use the tools of the enemy against my opponents! I’ll become a stronger magic user! I can’t exactly go back to arcane magic, now can I? So I might as well improve my skills as a dark magic user.”
“But at what cost, Svenn? What! What if this infernal thing turns on you? You remember the last time, brother! It nearly killed you! Do you have the ability to bring it down?”
Svenn raised his fist. “I have brought down the many beasts of Northrend! A simple infernal is no match for me!”
“How long has it been since you even faced one, anyways!? It has to have been since we got to Northrend.”
Svenn crossed his arms, turning away. “I faced many in Outlands.”
“Oh really?” Asgrend had the tone of mistrust and judgement in his voice. He took a step forward. “And were they like the ones the Legion first sent? They all can't be the same, dear brother, you must know this.”
Svenn span and faced his ever irritating brother. “You try my patience! Do not think to educate me on the subject of monsters and Daemons! The orc may have been a Legion agent, but I did not ignore him when he showed me the great book of demons.” Svenn approached his brother. “I want this, Asgrend! I want this to make me a better warrior! You’ve seen the way me and the doom hound fight. How can you be certain the infernal won’t fight the same way?”
Asgrend shook his head slowly. “I knew sending you to study magic was a bad idea. I always did!”
Tiralid had heard enough. He finally stood. He was a giant of a man. The two brothers were tall, sure, but he was much taller, almost night elf sized. “That’s enough out of you.” He stepped closer to the pair. Asgrend’s ears went down as he looked up, and Svenn simply looked away. “Your mother and I chose to send him to study the arcane, because he wanted it, and we sent him to study in a school of magic we thought would best aid us in war time. He has now chosen a different school of magic, but that is his choice. If your brother wants to go on his journey, it is not your place to say whether or not he may make it. None of us has any say. We have never forced you two to do something you did not want, you always jumped at the chance to fight, just like every generation of our family. It is bred into us. The best thing you can do is support him and hope that he is safe when he does these strange acts.” Tiralid turned to Svenn, putting his mighty hands on his shoulders. “Son, I know you turned from your arcane studies to these dark powers to try to save your older brother, but please don’t push beyond its boundaries. You do not know this type of magic like you do the arcane. Be careful.”
Tiralid turned from the two and walked toward his hut. “I am going to get rest now. If I hear you two bickering anymore, I will send you out on late night hunts, and come hell or high water if either of you comes back empty handed you will hunt naked.” He spoke with a tone that would not be challenged and entered his hut.
Asgrend and Svenn did not look at eachother for a long time. They stood there in the snow, listening to the howling winds.
“So you’re really going through with this, are you?” Asgrend finally said.
Svenn did not look at him when he spoke. “Yes.”
“This woman, she wants you dead because of this book. Is she right? Is this thing dangerous?”
Svenn shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ll never know until I get the book myself and study it. Not knowing is the worst part. You know this, we were all taught this by Commander Draconis.”
Asgrend would not look at him. He knew this mission was crazy, and Svenn should turn from it. Asgrend was always one for learning things the hard way, but this could be the last lesson he learned. This night elf woman would most likely kill Svenn.
“Just stay away from that place.” He moved toward his hut and did not emerge from it.
Svenn stayed at the fire for quite some time, deep in thought, thinking about many things. Mostly, though, he thought of the book, of forbidden knowledge...
While hunting in Desolace, a blood elf encountered two night elves. One peaceful, and the other hostile. After a short battle, he had found out that the one who wished his life knew his brother and his mission. We join him now on his ride home...
Asgrend rode hard through Kalimdor, bidding his steed to go faster. It seems it’s going as fast as it can, but damnit all why won’t it go faster?! He rode over hills, through plains, over water, instead of around it, thanks to his icy steps. The way was much quicker had he had to follow the paths normally. He had to get to his boat; he had to get to Northrend! Asgrend knew that Svenn would be staying at home this time, his business concluded in Azeroth for now. He had warn Svenn about the woman…
He had to get to him. Try to persuade him of his folly mission. Whatever this… book… he wants, is not worth his life. Literature never is! He saw the look in that womans eyes, Ish… Izsh… whatever…! He’d seen it many times. She wasn’t insane, there was nothing of that about her. No… this woman, she had the smell of murder about her, and the eyes of a killer. She had done this many times. She was the image of their death if they kept this adventure up.
After a full day of riding, he finally reached his boat on the shores of Durotar, and left his steed behind: Northrend is no place for a horse. Several hours of quick sailing on his skiff, and he reached the shores of Borean Tundra. He followed the coast line, hoping the winds would speed his travels to the Dragons Blight, where a snowy patch of land was waiting for him, what he called home. He practically crashed his ship along the rocky edges, and he would climb up from there. They all had to do this, it was the safest way. Or at least the most fun way. After cresting the top and battling some undead, he sprinted to their makeshift camp. It was dark, so it was easy to sneak back to it.
There they were, his father and his dear brother, Svenn, sitting by the fire and sharing a drink. They were surrounded by their small ram shack huts against the cliff sides. They smelled him coming before they heard him, and awaited him with drink in hand. Asgrend stared at his brother; Svenn had a large smile on his face, and their father kept the same expression he always had since their mother went missing, always hiding behind a cloth wrapped over his mouth and nose.
“Svenn, we need to talk.” Asgrend dropped some of his weapons, as was their custom when entering the camp: No weapons, so as to prevent inner strife.
“What’s this about, boy?” His father turned, his expression unreadable; always behind that damned mask of his…
“Asgrend, you look like you went through hell to get here.” Svenn stood, going to greet his brother with drink in hand, waiting to hand it to his brother. Asgrend has yet to get used to Svenns new smell; The stench of fel magic was a hard thing to get used to. Did this make him look at his brother differently…? Maybe it was just what happened in the last day.
“You remember that strange woman you told me about?” He approached the camp. Tiralid, their father, looked between the two of them as they spoke.
“Yes, what about her? She’s insane.” He took a seat.
“She’s not insane and you know it. She’s out for your life, dear brother.” Asgrend remained standing.
“Pff, I know this! She won’t succeed! Many have tried and they have all fallen. If she tries, she will simply fall with them. By Kael, man, nothing will happen!"
“Damnit, Svenn’Varal!” Asgrend stomped, bringing up a large puff of snow. It was the kind of stomp he used to kill someone, or shatter their spine. Svenn’s ears went back. Neither Svenn nor his brother liked their full names anymore. The humans gave them their nicknames, and they liked it. No one ever called him by his elven name, not even their father. Svenn stood, making to go to his hut, but only making it behind his chair.
“You -know- I hate being called that!” He spun round, glaring at his sibling.
“Well if it gets your attention then I’ll call you whatever I feel! This… book, tome or… Whatever it is! It can’t be that important, can it!? What…" He hesitated, trying to find the words, "What the hell does it do!? What’s so damned important about it!?”
Tiralid remained impassive. He understood that siblings need to argue from time to time. He did it with many of his brothers and sisters. It’s been a long time, though, since he had a sibling quarrel, since they all went missing in the Dark Portal.
Svenn stood there. He turned, making for his hut, but once again never made it, his back to the fires. Asgrend had it in his head that if he even thought about going into his hut to hide, he would attack him with no remorse. Tiralid simply sat, waiting. There was a howl in the distance, but other than that, it was quiet. It was always quiet where those three traveled. They picked a spot where there would be no undead, but they could still hear them if they listened close enough. There were almost no moans from the walking dead.
“It’s a magical tome.” He pulled out an ancient book. His father helped him read it, as he was the only one in their group who knew ancient elvish. He showed it to Asgrend. “It’s a summoning book. You remember those… uh… infernals?”
Asgrend’s eyes went wide. Actually, they glowed brighter, showing the same reaction. He looked at his father. “You knew about this!?” He pointed an accusing finger to Svenn.
Tiralid remained impassive. “It is his choice.”
“Well it's the wrong one! You know how horrible these things are!” Asgrend turned to Svenn. “Especially you! And you want to SUMMON one!? Have you lost your mind!?”
Svenn moved closer to his brother. “Think about it! I can use the tools of the enemy against my opponents! I’ll become a stronger magic user! I can’t exactly go back to arcane magic, now can I? So I might as well improve my skills as a dark magic user.”
“But at what cost, Svenn? What! What if this infernal thing turns on you? You remember the last time, brother! It nearly killed you! Do you have the ability to bring it down?”
Svenn raised his fist. “I have brought down the many beasts of Northrend! A simple infernal is no match for me!”
“How long has it been since you even faced one, anyways!? It has to have been since we got to Northrend.”
Svenn crossed his arms, turning away. “I faced many in Outlands.”
“Oh really?” Asgrend had the tone of mistrust and judgement in his voice. He took a step forward. “And were they like the ones the Legion first sent? They all can't be the same, dear brother, you must know this.”
Svenn span and faced his ever irritating brother. “You try my patience! Do not think to educate me on the subject of monsters and Daemons! The orc may have been a Legion agent, but I did not ignore him when he showed me the great book of demons.” Svenn approached his brother. “I want this, Asgrend! I want this to make me a better warrior! You’ve seen the way me and the doom hound fight. How can you be certain the infernal won’t fight the same way?”
Asgrend shook his head slowly. “I knew sending you to study magic was a bad idea. I always did!”
Tiralid had heard enough. He finally stood. He was a giant of a man. The two brothers were tall, sure, but he was much taller, almost night elf sized. “That’s enough out of you.” He stepped closer to the pair. Asgrend’s ears went down as he looked up, and Svenn simply looked away. “Your mother and I chose to send him to study the arcane, because he wanted it, and we sent him to study in a school of magic we thought would best aid us in war time. He has now chosen a different school of magic, but that is his choice. If your brother wants to go on his journey, it is not your place to say whether or not he may make it. None of us has any say. We have never forced you two to do something you did not want, you always jumped at the chance to fight, just like every generation of our family. It is bred into us. The best thing you can do is support him and hope that he is safe when he does these strange acts.” Tiralid turned to Svenn, putting his mighty hands on his shoulders. “Son, I know you turned from your arcane studies to these dark powers to try to save your older brother, but please don’t push beyond its boundaries. You do not know this type of magic like you do the arcane. Be careful.”
Tiralid turned from the two and walked toward his hut. “I am going to get rest now. If I hear you two bickering anymore, I will send you out on late night hunts, and come hell or high water if either of you comes back empty handed you will hunt naked.” He spoke with a tone that would not be challenged and entered his hut.
Asgrend and Svenn did not look at eachother for a long time. They stood there in the snow, listening to the howling winds.
“So you’re really going through with this, are you?” Asgrend finally said.
Svenn did not look at him when he spoke. “Yes.”
“This woman, she wants you dead because of this book. Is she right? Is this thing dangerous?”
Svenn shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ll never know until I get the book myself and study it. Not knowing is the worst part. You know this, we were all taught this by Commander Draconis.”
Asgrend would not look at him. He knew this mission was crazy, and Svenn should turn from it. Asgrend was always one for learning things the hard way, but this could be the last lesson he learned. This night elf woman would most likely kill Svenn.
“Just stay away from that place.” He moved toward his hut and did not emerge from it.
Svenn stayed at the fire for quite some time, deep in thought, thinking about many things. Mostly, though, he thought of the book, of forbidden knowledge...