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fitzefitcher · 3 years

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faction conflict soapbox, pt. 1

okay so it seems like for the most part, there are a couple consistent schools of thought here:

school 1: I'm tired of the Horde being the Bad Guy 24/7

school 2: I'm tired of faction conflict, in general

school 3: Really Deeply wish that the Alliance's crimes would actually be Addressed, At All

school 4: Nuanced Wild Card:tm: opinions that I'll have to tackle individually lmao

so let's get started, obviously this is going to be a long-ass post, so I'm going to preemptively break up my answers to these into separate posts, for readability and also for my own sanity lmao. this will be under my essay tag but also the tag faction conflict soapbox, for blacklisting reasons.

school 1: I'm Tired of the Horde being the Bad Guy 24/7

@lokaror: i dont tend to have much of it these days. But i hate the "Horde is always the bad guy" stuff. When faction war happens its rarely with too much nuance on either side. The group that is primarily outcasts banding together seemingly always having the bad apples chafes too. But i also see from alliance side that it can be just as raw the other way.

The alliance sprang up out of need to for mutual defense, and the horde is the horde because they also need mutual aid and defence. We can't really put too much real world ideals to either, but at its core its always a tinder that can be lit. No way around that.

@chryseis: Long time blood elf player! I still love the horde (even though most of my favourite lore characters are alliance lol) because it feels like more of a community than the alliance with their high king. However I'm getting super sick of the horde always being the bad guy, and the fact that blizz has used the same evil warchief plot twice! Having said that, some of my worst/funniest online interactions have been with men on twitter who play alliance and genuinely (1/2)

Believe that anyone who plays horde is a terrible war criminal and not someone playing a computer game lmao (2/2)

@arkhamarchitecture: Feels a lot like Blizzard can't resist making the Horde the villains and even when the Alliance does wrong, it gets written off and excused, like they're not allowed to be the bad guys. Which in turn makes a lot of Alliance players treat the Horde like Blizzard is biased in our favor just because the story is always about us? Even though the story is about our side apparently being full of godawful people? It's really infuriating.

I think a core issue w this is the way that the game often presents the Horde and its various characters without the same empathy that it gives to its Alliance characters (note I said "empathy" and not "nuance" or "character development," we'll get back to that later), so it's not that horde people are incapable of inspiring empathy or aren't empathetic themselves, clearly they are and have evoked that reaction enough from players to arrive at this conclusion, it's that the same sort of steps taken with portraying alliance characters aren't taken with horde characters. like, I've already covered this a bit in my sylvanas essay, but like, we're not really given any opportunity to understand what's going on inside her head, so the actions she takes feel nonsensical, unecessary, or even needlessly cruel, and seemingly as players interacting with this game we have to make a lot of extra effort in order to even attempt to understand it. like, example, the "before the storm" novel portrays her as this horrible, conniving, manipulative Evil Dictator, for not wanting to share vital information about azerite with a faction whose leader has effectively done nothing to curb the warmongering tendencies of its other leaders, when in fact, it's very understandable why she wouldn't wanna do this. But again, the author (Christie Golden, bc of course it is) very explicitly portrays her as Bad Bad Evil Zombie Lady for Daring to think that they can't trust the same faction that seems to take issue with the mere concept of the horde having the Audacity of thinking they Deserve to Live lmao. Like, clearly this is Happening, but's never talked about or formally addressed.

likewise, with Garrosh, our other Bad Bad Evil Dictator Warchief, despite all the weird, wretched, horrible shit he was doing, it unfortunately makes a really terrible kind of sense if examined further.

why did he turn away from the horde leaders? because they had all uniformly rejected him from the getgo. cairne said he'd never accept him, vol'jin said he'd kill him, sylvanas made it clear she would never respect his authority. all before he'd done a single solitary thing as warchief.

why did he turn to war so quickly and so strongly? because nothing else was working. thrall's horde had tried diplomacy for years, and it amounted to nothing, because no matter what he did, no matter how far the horde ran from the eastern kingdoms, the alliances wouldn't stop chasing them and trying to kill them. the alliance would never see them as actual people, they'd only ever see them as twisted monsters and bloodthirsty, mindless beasts.

why did he turn to such violent, inhumane methods? bc the entirety of his first real brush with warfare was in northrend, against the scourge, an enemy that will keep getting up again and again and again until they're utterly annihilated. and before that, all his experiences with conflict were with demons, who were similarly impossible to kill.

like, obviously none of these reasons make it okay for him to do what he had done. just because something is understandable, doesn't mean it's acceptable. but it's never portrayed as understandable. it's never addressed, at all. there is no nuance attached to any of his actions- it is only ever portrayed as Evil, as Manipulative and Conniving and Violent and Warmongering, even though there is a whole slew of reasons for how and why we got here. there is no emotionality, there is only cruelty.

edit: whoops, forgot a relevant ask. added now.

#warcraft #faction conflict soapbox #essay tag

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max-villain · 4 years

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Got tagged by @redrosennn And it seems fun!

Besides my brief panic of I know none of these fandoms before realizing I got too choose....

So this will be in completely random order! 10 characters from 10 of my favorite fandoms let's go!

1. Dark Souls: Solaire. Anyone who's played this game knows why. Solaire. Our Sunbro. The man who chases his dreams who has a story that parallels your own. If only I could be so gloriously incandescent!

2. Warcraft: Arthas/Illidan. Look I'm not choosing between the two of them. Arthas and Illidan have some of the most intriguing stories in wow. They both faced horrible threats, turned to dark powers... and from their the paths split. I love both of them even if their stories are at an end. (Also shoutout to Sylvanas I'm sorry for BFA doing you like that.)

3. Fallout: Tough choice but... I may actually go with The Burned Man. Someone you hear about throughout the base game... and then you meet the man himself. Sure in his belief, constantly racking ammo..... and like that voice holy heck dont get me started as that voice.

4. Fire Emblem: Do I have too choose? Hmmm gonna go with... Three way tie between Lyon/Berkut/Edelgard. Who I shall now call #empirekids

5. League of Legends: Kayn

.....look I like my edge boi I don't have too explain

6. Rwby: Cinder/Salem/Neo

.....I dont got to explain

7. Critical Role!!!!: Caleb. Look Liam. How dare you make a ginger bearded fellow with angst and a penchant for fire and make him so god damn good. I want an entire Caleb novel series what can I say.

.... I'm not in that many fandoms at the moment.... uhhhh so I'm actually gonna leave it there. Or do rapid fire...

8. FGO: Gorgon/Carmilla/Kingprotea/BB (still refuse too choose)

9. Warhammer 40K: Any non human who gets a spotlight and doesnt die instantly

10: My own ocs because I love all of them and will be the one person fandom for them

There we go!.... I dont know who to tag so I wont

#fire emblem #warcraft #dark souls #fallout #tag game

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shadowphoenixrider · 5 years

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A Moment of Peace

(Not a conventional Valentine’s fic, but it’s got Draggka and Khadgar being sweethearts to each other, so it counts! I consider this a partner piece to Quickening, though it’s set after that one. Enjoy!)

(Tagging: @highpriestessbriyanna. @elfgirl931, @fer8girl, @galleywinter and @sigurdjarlson)

“I still tink dat we be better off try’n break da sword down into smaller pieces, den slowly pull it from da wound.” Draggka said, looking up at the mage that paced by her position on the couch. “Dere be no way we can be pulling dat sword out in one go. It be takin’ you and da whole Council to move Dalaran. Don’t tink even all of ya, Jaina and Medivh could shift it right now.”

“I understand, and you’re right about us lacking the power to move it in its current form, but we still don’t know how deep the blade goes.” Khadgar replied, stepping carefully over Spike’s tail. “It is clearly deep enough to cause Azeroth to bleed, and provoke Azerite eruptions across the surface of the planet, but we need to know exactly how deep. We cannot afford to shatter the sword and leave fragments of it inside Azeroth. It is bad enough we have Old Gods buried within her, without pieces of Sargeras’s sword in there too.”

“But we drained it of its dark energy.” The hunter said. “It be as dead as a rock.”

“Yes, well. Our Gul’dan was dead, but his skull was still a powerful demonic artifact - indeed, Illidan’s powers were taken from it.” The wizard pulled a face. “And it talked to me.”

“Tink dat might be a feature of da skulls of demons. Remember Thal’kiel, dat skull dat Liz were using against the Legion?” Draggka said, shifting position. “Apparently he were very talkative.”

“That doesn’t exactly bring me comfort, dearest.” Khadgar remarked dryly. He sighed, closing the book he had in his hands. “Light curse Sargeras. I thought that maybe, maybe...”

Draggka sat up, reaching to take one of mage’s hands, squeezing it gently. He glanced down at her, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m sorry, love. You don’t want to listen to me complain about Sargeras for umpteenth time,” he said, setting the book aside and moved over to the couch she was lying on, Spike opening one blue eye to regard him.

“Still be better den Nathanos grumbling ‘bout da Zandalari fleet, or makin’ remarks ‘bout how I somehow don’t be havin’ time to help da ‘Honourbound’ out.” Draggka replied, rolling her eyes as Khadgar lifted her feet up to sit down, setting them in his lap. “No doubt he now be whining ‘bout me going on leave for da baby.”

“Champion of the Banshee Queen or not, even he cannot demand you charge into battle with a belly swollen with a child.” Khadgar said, his eyes tracing down her legs to the troll’s rounded stomach. “Hmm. It's only been a a week, but I’m sure its gotten bigger. When you first came to Karazhan, one could have mistaken it for gut rot. Now it is clearly a pregnancy.”

“I thought so too.” Draggka nodded. “Armour be gettin’ uncomfortable before I came here. Little adjustments were fine, and it be easily hidden, but now? No, dere be no way to be wearing armour witout people knowing.” She ran a hand over her stomach. “I couldn’t be risking it. Not any more.”

“I do wish it hadn’t taken an Alliance attack on Dazar’alor to bring you home to us.” Khadgar said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “When I felt you contact me after the battle, and your first communication was ‘I’m alive’-” He shook his head. “Light, Draggka, I dropped everything to get to you. If I’d known what was happening I would’ve-”

“Ya would’ve gotten yaself killed.” The hunter said, steel in her voice. “Like I said back den. Da Zandalari would have attacked ya for bein’ human, as would da Horde. Dat’s why I hid it from ya.” She sighed, Spike lifting his head up from the ground to rumble sympathetically. “I broke my heart to be lying to ya. But I needed to be keeping ya safe as well. If I lost ya, I...”

She stopped herself from completing that sentence. Her mate did not need to know that he and their child were one of the few anchors keeping her on Azeroth.

“We be here now.” Draggka said instead, her other hand going to pet Spike’s head, avoiding his knowing gaze. “I promise, I not be goin’ anywhere else now.“

“I would hope not.” Khadgar replied. “Even when you said you were taking leave, you stayed to help Talanji undertake trials to become Queen, and then you went and spoke with the Lich King!”

“I be owing dat to her and Vol’jin!” The hunter spat back, her fur prickling at his tone. Spike whined, and she sighed, her ears drooping. “I be sorry, Khadgar. I...I know ya be my mate, but...dey be my people. Dey be my family for a long time, before Dranka came home. Before you. Vol’jin still be my Warchief in my heart.” She stroked her thumb listlessly against his hand. “I’m sorry. Curse dis war. Curse dis war and Sylvanas for making me choose between my people an’ my family.”

“I know.” Khadgar replied, breathing out his own sigh. “I know. You know how I feel about it all. I’ve only just found you, a love I’d never thought I’d have in my life, and I...I’m so frightened of losing you. Of losing our child. I want to lock you in Karazhan to keep anything from happening to you. But I know that you need to be free. Your honour drives you to protect the people of Azeroth and the Horde - one of the many reasons I fell so deeply in love with you. You cannot stand by when they suffer, selflessly throwing yourself into danger again and again for them. Especially as dark clouds gather within their ranks once more.”

His fingers gently interlaced with hers, the golden band on his ring finger glinting in the light.

“I don’t begrudge what you did. I understand why. I only selfishly wish that you’d put yourself first a little more. Or rather, you’d put me first.” He smiled weakly, lifting a shoulder. “A flaw in my character, I’m afraid. I’m rather scared of losing things I care about.”

“So am I.” Draggka replied, a slight smile on her lips. “I understand, Khadgar. I know why ya be mad. I were upset when ya be throwing yaself into dose tings when we be fightin’ da Legion. It only be fair dat ya be upset when I be doin’ da same.”

“In my defence, you are carrying our child too,” he said, tapping her stomach with a spare finger. “Regardless of how strong trolls are, and you in particular, I can’t help but worry.”

“I know, I know.” She squeezed his hand again. “But, it be enough adventuring for me for now. I be putting myself first now, like ya wanted me to.” And thankfully, away from Sylvanas.

“Mmmhmm.” The mage hummed, raising an eyebrow. “I will believe it when I see it. No doubt your need to wander will return, and I will make myself available as an escort when it does.” He smiled warmly. “I intend to make sure you don’t give me any more sleepless nights.”

Spike gave a dismissive snort, glaring at Khadgar as if he’d just been insulted. The mage chuckled.

“No, Spike, I wasn’t insinuating that you cannot protect her yourself. You’ve done a fine job getting her this far, after all. It is more to ease my own anxieties, than accuse you of being negligent in yours.”

The raptor looked very disbelieving at that, but he seemed to accept the explanation and rest his head back down on the floor again.

“You two gobble like mother turkeys.” Draggka commented, unable to stop the smile playing on her lips. “Even wit da baby, I can be lookin’ afta myself, ya know.”

“I recall you bursting into tears when you saw Medivh replace one of the chained books in the library.” Khadgar replied. “Something about ‘what did they do to deserve that’?”

“Dat has nothing to do wit being able to take of myself!” Draggka pointed accusingly at the now smirking mage. “An’ ya shouldn’t be chaining books anyway. Not unless dey be dose aggressive flappy ones.”

“They’re precisely the ones that are chained, dearest.” He replied, clearly amused. “With Medivh and I here, we no longer need to rely on their enchantments to keep thieves at bay. That, and we need to protect them from your arrows and Spike’s teeth.”

Both hunter and raptor snorted, the former pulling her hands away to fold her arms in a sulk, the latter glaring up at him.

“I be coming here to rest, an’ all ya be doing is being mean to me.”

“Oh come now, I’m only teasing.” Khadgar’s smirk became one of his winning smiles, one that made his eyes twinkle and Draggka’s heart flip in her chest. “If you cannot spar with your arrows, I at least wish to offer you sport with our words,” he said, pulling his gloves off and setting them aside. “And if you wish to rest instead, I would be more than happy to give you comfort too.”

With that, he began to rub the troll’s feet, tenderly massaging her sore soles. Draggka tried to hold her grumpy pout and sulk, but she couldn’t help but groan in relief at the touch of the mage’s warm hands.

“Does that feel better?” He asked softly, making sure to give her toes the same attention.

“Yeah...Much better. Tank you.” Draggka sighed, laying her head back down against the arm of the couch.

A now familiar flutter of movement arose in her stomach as her baby rolled over, seemingly in reply to her relaxation. Khadgar caught the look on her face, tilting his head questioningly.

“Dey be on da move again,” she said. “I tink dey be- Ow!” The troll winched as she was suddenly struck by a random limb into her more sensitive innards. “Dere was no need for dat!”

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Khadgar asked, reaching for her, hand hovering anxiously over her stomach.

“Yeah, I be fine, dey just be givin’ me a punch. Or a kick, I don’t-” Draggka suddenly paused, a thought clicking into place. “Khadgar, ya hand.”

She quickly grasped him, settling his palm over the last impact site. “Come on, little one, let ya father know dat you be here.” He’s been trying to sense you for months, please give him this.

Seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, Khadgar pressing his hand in as firmly as he dared for even the slightest twitch their unborn child could or would make. Disappointment was just starting to crease the mage’s face when the baby finally moved again, and Draggka felt it punch out directly under his hand. The look on her life-mate’s face was, for the lack of a better word, magical. His whole face lit up, his eyes widening and he gasped, lips stretching into a beaming smile.

“Draggka! I, I felt it! Our child, our baby just kicked! They just kicked me!” Khadgar may have looked the ripe old age of eighty, but his excitement shaved the years off him to almost a tender twenty, and his joy was delightfully infectious. He reached over, wrapping her in a hug and pressing a sloppy kiss to her lips, not caring if her tusks dug in his cheeks and chin, before he leant down to her stomach.

“I felt you, young one! Your daddy felt you kick me!” He cooed, almost pressing his face into Draggka. “Oh, I love you so much. You’ve still got a little way to go before we’ll see you properly, but I can’t wait. I love you. I love you and I love your wonderful mother who’s carrying you right now.” Khadgar glanced back up at the troll, still grinning from ear to ear. The hunter couldn’t help but start laughing.

“Oh you, ya be ridiculous!” She reached forward, ruffling his hair and making him chuckle. “Ya hear him, little one? What a charmer ya father be? You’ll love him when ya see him. We both be loving ya wit everyting we have. Jus’ don’t be kicking me too hard, dat not be fair.”

“Yes, be good to your mom.” Khadgar said. “She’s been through a lot, including growing and hauling you around, so don’t make her job any harder for her, okay? Do it as a promise to your daddy, okay?”

“If she be anyting like you, she be takin’ dat as a challenge.” Draggka grinned.

“Actually, I’m sure that will be your blood talking.” Khadgar replied, grinning back. “Thank you, Draggka. I...” He glance down at her stomach, then back up, utterly speechless. “I love you.”

“Love ya too, Ba’la.” Draggka grinned back, before he pulled her back into an energetic, loving kiss.

“Light, Draggka.” Khadgar suddenly said as he pulled away, cupping her cheeks. “I’ve got to tell Medivh. I’ll be right back, I promise.” He almost sprang off the couch, bouncing off out of the room crying: “Medivh! Medivh! The baby! I just felt the baby!”

As there was what seemed like a distant reply in the tower, Draggka stroked her pregnant belly, smiling. Yes. This is my family. This is where I belong.

#world of warcraft #draggka #khadgar #battle for azeroth spoilers #SPRs writing #WoW fanfic #oc/khadgar #draggka/khadgar #otp: walk on the wild side #pregnancy #bfa au #dialogue heavy #valentine's day fic #light angst

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airanke · 6 years

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Actually I have some ideas (?) I wanna’ discuss-- it’s mostly Amita story stuff, but for Legion and Battle For Azeroth stuff (so I’ll put everything under a cut because... I already accidentally spoiled someone on what happens in the Zuldazar raid and like I feel horrible =_=;;; ).

But yeah it’s just points that I want to see if they make sense, because obviously Amita’s story is going to fork off completely from Legion (the biggest two factors being that Vol’jin AND Varian don’t die, because I have a really good idea for Varian that forces him off the throne and puts Anduin in his place and wow amazing it doesn’t involve his death I never knew that was possible wow).

Okay, onwards! I also apologize in advance it gets rambly and long but I have a lot of ideas and I need to make sense of them all :C

First I’ll briefly mention Warlords. I feel like Blizz wanted to put player characters into the forefront more and that’s why Vol’jin “didn’t do anything”. One major thing that happen in Lascivious Ophidian (from here on referred to as LO) is this:

Jaina and Vol’jin tag-team to kill Garrosh. This is proper poetic justice for both the Bombing of Theramore, the Divine Bell incident, the attempt on Vol’jin’s life, and the attempt to wipe out the Darkspear tribe. Remember when Vol’jin tells Garrosh that he’ll get an arrow through his black heart? Yeah.

Anyway, moving on to Legion:

Sylvanas was more than capable of taking out the fel guard before it hit Vol’jin, and so, she does (keep in mind I personally characterize Sylv as being empathetic and deeply caring - perhaps, somewhat compassionate - but she masks it all under anger and indifference. Broken Shore actually supported this and then... BfA happened smh).

Vol’jin and Varian end up fighting the fel reaver together while everyone else gets their shit together and Sylv / Jaina provide long range support, though the latter is considerably mana depleted. Vol’jin still breaks a tusk and ends up losing both.

In the retreat, both Varian and Vol’jin are injured but Vol’jin still manages to shoulder Varian anyway and carry him to Jaina, then he collapses and Sylvanas picks him up and sounds her horn to call her Val’kyr. Horde and Alliance soldiers alike then find themselves either scrabbling onto the Alliance gunship or scrabbling onto the Horde boat. Sylv and Geblin are helping to pull soldiers onto their respective ships.

Slightly off-topic, but an Alliance Paladin and Horde Death Knight (and probably a few other hero / champion aka player characters) stay behind on the shore to prevent demons from pursuing their leaders. They die, of course.

Vol’jin, being a troll, recovers from his critical injury (not sure what it is yet, but trolls are well known in lore from being able to recover from anything, plus in that short story Judgement Vol’jin regenerates his thumb). Varian, on the other hand, is not so lucky, and ends up paralyzed from the legs down. Geblin of course builds him an incredible wheelchair. He begins to mentor Anduin in kingly duties (see? Can “take him out of a story” and not kill him and still have Anduin become king and not have Anduin SHOVED into being a king. Wow. Amazing. Didn’t realize that was even remotely possible).

What events lead up to Amita actually ending up in the Dreamgrove are up in the air, but she does becomes the Archdruid of the class hall in it’s entirety (I need this to be canon to set up BfA events). Thrall also does not disappear, and instead stays at the Earthern Ring to continue mentoring shaman (and passes on the Doomhammer to another shaman as a result). I’m actually not sure if Aggra will even be IN Amita’s story, as she... is literally unimportant and has virtually no impact on Lore as it currently is, except for Thrall’s personal story (I am also Thraina trash, because have I ever told you that Thrall x Jaina was legitimately my first ship before I even knew what shipping was? Yeah. Exactly).

I have no thoughts yet on whether or not I will have Ysera still die in Amita’s story, but we’ll see. This is mostly because I’m still debating on having Amita be nightmare infected in canon (currently it’s just an AU idea I have), but either way, There Will Be A Dragon Fight.

Okay here’s perhaps the most important point. I’m still considering having Vol’jin pass on the mantle of Warchief, but it won’t be to Sylvanas. It will be to Baine - or rather, Vol’jin makes Baine acting warchief in his absence. I remember reading somewhere that the original plan for Vol’jin disappearing on BS was that he “needed to go talk to someone” and then made someone else warchief in his stead so that he could have the freedom to do that. In this case, I’m going to have Vol’jin make Baine acting warchief, and Vol’jin goes to scout out the Zandalari islands, which is where he ends up learning that Talanji and Zul have gone missing, which will of course lead to the infiltration of Stormwind yaddayaddayadda because yes Teldrassil still burns.

Okay, Battle for Azeroth:

I think everyone collectively agrees that the War of the Thorns stuff was horrible because it’s the same old story that everyone is tired of hearing. Anyway. After the Legion’s defeat, Azerite still poses a problem (resource war. I’m going for a resource war). He agrees that taking Teldrassil would be strategic, so War of the Thorns kind of proceeds as is, but he’s THERE, and lets Sylv go after Malfurion.

Horde gets Teldrassil. Baine tells Tyrande to evacuate her city because the Horde will be occupying it soon. Dead are given proper burial rites because Baine is a tauren and Saurfang is an orc and that’s honourable. When the Horde get to Teldrassil, they find siame-quashi crawling all over the place but they soon disappear into the shadows, but Baine knows his brother well enough to be aware that Vol’jin has been in Teldrassil long before they arrived.

Genn incites the burning of Teldrassil - and no, not because he’s malicious and petty but because it makes sense as a war strategy. Yes he knows people are probably going to die, but he corners a Forsaken soldier and pins it on the Horde (the Undercity will also still be blighted into oblivion, and Idk it makes sense to me for the Alliance to make a move like burning the tree if it means taking away a strong foothold from the Horde - or at least, Genn does, but no one finds out that he was the one who started it until Zuldazar Raid stuff. I’M GETTING THERE I PROMISE). Anyway, speaking of that, Vol’jin watches Genn do all of this and then of course has to book it the fuck out of there because no thank you. And he’s not sure how to process the information so he tells Baine to help evacuate the tree as much as he can before yeah they’re forced to leave (also hey the Alliance has shamans too, and if Genn mother-fucking Greymane tells you to do something I’m p sure my scared ass would listen).

Debating on if Sylv starts shooting civillians who can’t make it to the portals / are stuck due to the fires because “killing them with an arrow through the eye is more humane than letting them burn to death”. Compassion, but twisted in a sense. Horde / Alliance mages though try to teleport as many people as possible and both sides suffer some significant losses.

Instead of Legion BS being the reason Jaina becomes furious with the Horde once again, the burning of the tree is. She gets so angry (understandably, plus I can imagine her and Tyrande being rather close as some of the few female leaders in the Alliance) and it’s like an extra blow because Jaina’s already lost Theramore. So then she leaves on her little soul-searching expedition and Thrall wants to go after her but because none of them know how to bring up the news that Greymane was the one who started the fire they kinda go “well shit” and do nothing (which of course bites them in the ass).

Undercity proceeds practically identically to in-game however the comment Sylv makes to Greymane while sitting on the throne is more in-line to “oh yeah you mean the throne you abandoned when you built ur wall and let the Lordaeron citizens - who are basically the Forsaken, btw - die to the scourge you uh. You mean that throne?” obviously way more eloquently but you get the idea.

Amita is coaxed into being under human guise (and goes by the name Juliet, which is also one of Jaina’s nicknames for her) because Jaina decides that she needs the emotional support from her good friend as she goes to Kul Tiras because this has now become a resource war with both Horde and Alliance furious over losing two major important cities respectively. Horde of course infiltrates Stormwind and gets Zul and Talanji out (I’m actually not sure what happens with Saurfang but I think I can still have the event with him facing the Alliance leaders alone happen but more as a “SYLVANAS YOU NEED TO PREPARE EVEN THOUGH I DONT’ AGREE WITH WHAT YOU’VE PREPARED I’LL HOLD THEM OFF” instead of “RAGRGARGR I’M SO MAD HOW DARE U” so Baine is like “I’mma finish evacuating you get yourself ready for the confrontation”).

Lots of shit happens but I’m gonna’ skip to Rezan stuff. Mostly because Amita kills Yazma so I’m not sure how the corruption thing happens, but I’m still going to have him die (perhaps while trying to face off against Mythrax? Translating some raids / dungeons into story points is pretty tough so I haven’t really gotten to that point yet... I’m totally not avoiding it LOL). Either way, whether or not Rezan lives or dies (because that’s important to the story Blizzard wants to tell, but not important to the story I personally want to tell), something does happen that causes Rastakhan to still rapidly age (could easily be something like Bwonsamdi messing around with the connection between Rezan and Rastakhan, after all, Bwonsamdi reeeeeeeeeally wants Rast’s soul).

Oookay so... Siege of Zuldazar:

Amita is in Boralus when the Alliance is planning this. Yes amazingly still no one in the Alliance is aware of what Genn has done (lets just say that he dealt with anyone who tried to let Anduin and Varian know). She ends up ousting herself and Jaina tries to calm her but she ends up furious enough to say “if you march on Zuldazar, the Dreamgrove stands against you. Remember, I am the Archdruid now”. And then she leaves because you don’ fuck w/ a dragon.

So the Dreamgrove of course ends up sweeping into Zuldazar to stop the Alliance in their tracks, and then the Earthern Ring shows up because Thrall is like “I stand with you, Amita”. Amita’s priority is keeping Rastakhan alive so she has Hamuul and Thrall take him and his council to a safe place, and then instructs the druids and shamans to evacuate / protect the civilians, in a sort of “let the alliance and the horde come to blows, I don’t care, just get as many civilians to safety as you can” (wait.. I don’t know if I made it clear that Amita is Champions of Azeroth / Khadgar / Neutral aligned. Okay. She is. Okay back to my rambling).

Basically there are vines everywhere.

Now I still don’t know how the raid ends (like if it ends with a huge naga / old god thing or what, but I’m gonna’ tentatively roll with the idea of Azshara forces rolling in like “durrhurhurr heeellLO LANDWALKERS”), but I know how it ends in LO. Vol’jin confronts Genn in the throne room or... wherever it is that the Alliance confronts Rastakhan, and he and Genn basically have this duel where the whole time Vol’jin is like “why don’t you tell them, Genn, why don’t you tell them who REALLY burned down Teldrassil? Haven’t you told them about how you shoved a torch into the hand of dead forsaken soldier? What about those shamans that were at your side when it happened, what’s become of them?” etcetc which leads to a break in the Alliance’s resolve and they retreat out of Zuldazar because honestly Anduin doesn’t know how to handle this information and I wouldn’t blame him. Neither does Jaina.

As the Alliance is falling back, however, the naga are like “EEEEYY LANDWALKERS” and the Dreamgrove / Earthern Ring come to the rescue with Jaina and Thrall tag-teaming to beat the fuck out of either an Old God herald or a huge Naga mmyes. I will have my Thraina. And the mages show up too because Ollwen is a good friend of Amita’s and she brings the Kirin Tor to HELP. This also saves the Alliance time cuz then they just teleport all the Kul Tiras boats and shit back to Kul Tiras and... then Anduin has to confront Genn. And Tyrande can still become a night warrior lmao don’t worry (as much as I apparently... dislike her???), because even if the Horde wasn’t behind burning Teldrassil, they were still very much behind everything that led UP to burning Teldrassil.

Rastakhn therefore lives but only solely because I want to write him sucking up his pride and stepping down from the throne to let Talanji lead with him as her mentor for at least a year before he finally passes away quietly in the night. Not all deaths have to be blood and glory on the battlefield to have impact. A quiet death is just as impactful (and honestly I have some experience because of how recently I lost my grandfather. Death hits hard regardless of how it happens). So my plan is to have Rastakhan pass away quietly and Talanji goes to greet him in the morning only to come across his cold form. Yeah. The ouchies are still there.

Annnnnnnnnd we’ll see how I decide to proceed from there. Yeah. Wow thanks for reading all the way if you did LMAO?!?!!? You are literally a trooper.

I guess you can tell me your thoughts?? //cries softly.

#Air's antics #BfA spoilers #Battle of Azeroth spoilers #Please don't read if you don't know datamined stuff because EUUUGEUHGHGHGUEH

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rask-the-rogue · 6 years

Text

When the Day is Done

[Notes: Sorry about the length! There’s been a lot going on with Rask, both leading up to and after the burning of Darnassus. Quick reminder that Rask worked for Sylvanas for a while during the early part of Legion; he has an Undead disguise that allowed him to do so.

The first bit here is from an actual role-play in game, though I didn’t log the chat and don’t know the people on tumblr so I can’t tag them and greatly simplified the conversation. The troll featured belongs to a great rper who I also can’t tumblr tag; if you know Gronn the Tauren deathknight, this is his alt! Further credit: Mavrassle is over at @exileforthecause and Rask’s sister Celune can be found at @sconesandsorcery. The art is mine, and I’m glad I finally found a reason to draw Rask’s kids :) Thanks as always for reading my stuff <3]

He wasn’t able to get the face of the nine-year-old gnome out of his mind. She had been so small, and yet so fiercely dressed with her practice weapons on her back. “I’m going to march with my Order in the war,” she’d said, and Rask had felt his insides go cold.

The woman he’d been chatting with idly at the Slaughtered Lamb had returned his shocked exclamation with a narrow look. “She has to be able to defend herself, don’t you think?”

“She’s nine,” was all he could sputter for a moment before an icy rage seized him. “There’s a diff’rence between self-defense an’ marchin’ ta war!”

“She can make her own choices; shouldn’t we all?” The woman had huffed as she drew the child gnome back, ushering her out of the door.

“She’s a kid!” he retorted, ignoring the fact that the entirety of the bar was now watching this exchange. “She can choose what veggies she don’t like, an’ what color clothes ta wear that day-- NOT whether or not she can die in battle!”

The woman’s lips pinched together, and she shrugged. Rask scoffed, tossing his glass roughly back onto the bar. “I reckon I oughta get goin’,” he spat. “I got three kids at home I gotta get back to.”

He’d walked home, hoping it would clear his head, but the conjured image of the child on a battlefield-- tiny hands clenched around non-blunted weapons, the certainty of her face that she ought to be there giving way to the dawning reality of death-- haunted him the whole journey back.

The gold paint of the rising sun on his door winked at him despite the twilight hour, the honeyd rays of the actual sun having long ago surrendered to the jut of the mountains that encircled Stormwind, now only able to touch the docks and sea far, far from Old Town.

Felpaw, the Demon Hunter Mavrassele’s gift to him and his children, nearly pinned him against the door as it shut behind him, loud rumbling purrs interspersed with snuffling sniffs of his nose as he puzzled out the myriad of smells on Rask’s trousers. Rask chortled as he endured the bunting rubs of the saber’s head, scratching his ears briefly before the thunder of padding feet brought his hands up to stymie the flood of children that rushed toward him down the hall. “Pa!”

He grunted as he lifted Irvin-- the boy had just turned six, but Rask was already betting money that the kid would become a warrior, considering he was a bulwark of a child. “Oi,” He exclaimed, bracing himself for the even younger elven child that leapt up onto his back a moment later, scrambling up it like a monkey. “Ain’t you all supposed ta be in bed?”

“I tried, Pa,” Idalee’s voice cut in; at eleven, she was too old to demand a lift into his arms, so he leaned over to give her a stubbled kiss instead, watching a pleased smile cut through the self-important annoyance on her face. “They kept watching out the window for you.”

“Tsk,” Rask mock-chided, looking from Idalee to her blood brother, Irvin, and then to the little Ash on his back, whose blood lay on both sides of the war: Sin’dorei and Kal’dorei alike, judging by his luminous eyes and pale purple skin. “Well, I’m here now, so no more excuses. Ta bed, with tha lot of you.”

☽ ☼ ☾

He hadn’t had the heart to pull himself away to his own bed, especially not since little Ash clung and whined when he half-heartedly tried to move. They’d all ended up in a pile of limbs on Ash’s bed, Idalee tucked against his back while Irvin had finally splayed himself across his legs and fallen fast asleep there, like the odd duck he was.

Rask listened to the breathing of their small bodies as he stared into the semi-darkness, thinking of the gnome child once again, thinking of how talk in the taverns of Stormwind and Orgrimmar alike had turned to terse discussions of the opposing faction and its bid for Azerite. It felt like mere days since Anduin and Sylvanas had declared the threat of the Legion was vanquished; and yet now it seemed all of Azeroth was holding its breath, waiting for the next hammer to fall-- waiting for the first warning gong or bell, so they could throw themselves into the bloody flames of precious war once again.

War-- He had broken his ties with Sylvanas at the Worgen tower in the Broken Isles, and had dared to allow himself to hope that soon-- soon-- the war would be done and the factions would speak together of peace.

Fear ate away at that hope. The gnome-child’s face loomed up in the dark. Was he doing enough to prepare his children for war? Would they have to protect themselves-- could they?

He pushed the questions away, squeezing his eyes shut and pleading for sleep. It was still speculation, bar-talk. He would allow himself to worry when it came to pass.

☽ ☼ ☾

Word spread like the fires of Darnassus itself through the city. Their door was knocked on so many times-- Did you hear? -- Have you heard? -- Did you know anyone there?-- that Rask had finally shuttered the windows and told the children they wouldn’t be answering it the rest of the day. They whiled away the hours playing board games, and he pretended to ignore his children’s glances toward the window at every knock or shout in the street, just as they pretended to ignore the tightness around his eyes and mouth.

☽ ☼ ☾

"De World Tree. Dey burned it," the troll whispered. Rask had heard his coughing and had left his kids within the circle of light from Idalee’s lantern to go investigate. They had waited until near dusk to set out for the tower in Elywnn that housed his adopted sister and her family, and had gotten about halfway there when the strange hacking noises had drawn their attention. Rask had been surprised to find a druid in cat form, soot clinging to his fur and the smell of woodsmoke clogging the air around him; he was less surprised to hear the troll say he was leaving the Horde. "Saw de smoke from Dalaran. Decided I'd help de right side."

Rask dropped his arms that he’d lifted to show the troll he was indeed a ‘Raznos’, or friend, as he’d called out through the gloom as way of introduction. He let his shoulders slump; his children couldn’t see him, for the moment. "I heard as much,” he admitted, “But by tha time I heard, it was already done-- done enough that if I went ta help, I'd jus' be in tha way.” He heard the uncertainty in his own voice; had there truly been nothing he could have done? He pushed the nagging thought away, as he had countless times in the last twelve hours. “Stars an' suns," He cursed in Thalassian before switching back to Orcish, hearing his voice ache. "Why? Why?" The tears that sprang to the back of his eyes surprise him, but he didn’t let them fall. Not yet-- not here. "D'you know? Has she gone mad?"

"She always been mad, boyo," the troll hissed, finally revealing his natural form in a flash of druidic magic. He wore his dark hair in dreadlocks, and an eyepatch covered his right eye. The rings on his tusks chimed faintly as his frame shook with more ragged coughs. "No one knows,” he continued once the coughing fit settled into a rasp. “No one sane, anyhow. But she ain't my Warchief no more.” His voice grew hard, and Rask felt the words burn like a brand in his chest. Not mine, either. “I knew about Darkshore-- still no reason why-- but I didn't… I didn't know she'd burn Teldrassil." Rask heard the shame in his voice, saw it glinting in his eyes when they locked with his own. "...I'm sorry."

The words cut him to the quick. He’s heard them too many times, said them far more. He shook his head, taking a step forward toward the troll and lifted his hand, holding it palm up. "You ain't got nothin' ta apologize fer. My kids an’ I are headed fer sanctuary-- my sister’s tower, which she shares with her Sin’dorei husband an’ kids. If yer lookin’ fer a safe haven, fer tha time bein’, we can give it ta you.”

☽ ☼ ☾

His home was strange in the still stiffness of the early morning light, with no human breaths or heartbeats but his own to fill it. His children, and the troll Ra’him, were safe with Celune and Jath for now; he’d told them he needed to tie up a few loose ends. Celune had given him a knowing look and a squeeze on the arm, and told him to be back in time for dinner.

Felpaw whines at him as he stood in the doorway to his home, staring down the hallway that ended with a stairwell on the left, and the kitchen on the right. Providing another route to the kitchen was the sitting room, strewn with children’s toys and couches dusted with fur despite the strict orders not to let Felpaw up on them. He picks his way carefully around them, unwilling to even nudge the toys aside like he usually did, as if preserving bones in situ.

He wonders if any toys had survived the fire, imagines the charred remains of dolls or warped metal horses strewn about a playroom in Darnassus.

One of the sturdy chairs around his dining table lends him a needed crutch as he fights the urge to collapse right then and there. He leans heavily against it, casting a despairing gaze about the room while he struggles to moderate his quickening breaths. The sink and its magic that would cheerfully draw water up from the well below with no hand-pumping was of Sin’dorei make, while the kettle hung above the currently ashy hearth had been purchased directly from an Dwarven blacksmith, who had guaranteed his design would boil water faster and keep it hot longer. (He was right.) The ceramic bowls his children ate soup from were patterned with the bright colors of the Tauren, made by their large and careful hands; the glass cups they drank from, spun thanks to tiny Gnomish ones.

His thumb catches on the scrollwork on the back of the chair, smoothing itself over the curves as one would rub a circle of prayer beads. He had requested from the woodcarvers that a rising sun motif be carved there, budding out of the swirling vines and leaves that spread over the rest of the backrest. Silvermoon meets Darnassus, co-existing there in the sturdy frame of his chairs.

A sob chokes him. His body sags until he’s keeling, and he presses his forehead so hard against the chair that it would surely etch dents into his skin. He finally gives himself over to grief there in the empty silence of his home, and weeps for all that’s been lost.

☽ ☼ ☾

youtube

Do you ask why I'm sighing, my son? You shall inherit what mankind has done In a world filled with sorrow and woe If you ask me why this is so, I really don't know.

[To be continued]

#story #my art #world of warcraft #bfa #wra rp #DAM WELL IT'S BEEN A WHILE HUH #rask's just been taking care of his adorable lil kids #until you know #everyone has to go off their rockers and screw everything up #ghh rask has been SO HOPEFUL #as have i #that actual peace may be an option #sighs heavily #thank you if you read the whole thing! you're awesome #ugh i forgot my current theme doesn't show italics so forgive the bolded things grr

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carostrelec · 6 years

Note

Hey, I have read your tags on that dark cringe stuff post and let me say this: Yup, your OCs mainly fall into the dark cringy category. But you know what? Who cares! Firstly, you are probably new to character making. You need to get the grips on it. You self project and do caricatures. It’s fine. Secondly, you’ll grow and learn. Your characters will change with your experience, but your interests won’t fade away, don’t worry.

oh.

well, I suppose you are not wrong at all, so let me just say that you haven’t seen a fair number of characters i write about :D they are mostly based off other people (even the ones that just asked me to be there), but I try to give each of them a different (well, not drastically different, but still…) characterization, character design and all that stuff (for fourteen almost-main characters, i seriously need to kill someone off).

[some useless explaining and pathetic justifications ahead, skip if you don’t care]

as for the others you probably know way better since i occasionally write about them here… The Friendly Arm Tavern’s personnel is that sort of characters just meant to be memes, with Rivenna being the older than dirt and “i’ve seen it all and just let me make vodka now” character and Makuk being the guy that just needs to see you and immediately wants to be friends because he likes something about you although he’s never met you before… and the other characters are meant just as a not really serious bunch of completely different characters.

and Sigma… Sigma is a honest and honorable person, disapproving of other nightborne constantly plotting how to murder someone and Sylvanas (i guess the bit about Sylvanas is indeed a shared trait with me, since i hate what Blizzard made of her). she is willing to fight and protect people she loves, but… she’s been through a lot of stuff these past ten thousand years. just let her have a bit of fun and travel around Azeroth with Reuven.

now I should talk about the Lichborne trio, shouldn’t I? well, Laeth'an is a bit like me and so is Kalu'azz (i think). i don’t want to sound like a tragic piece of shit here, since Laeth'an seems to share bits of my personality, yet she loves knowledge just as much as I do (perhaps a bit more) and i just… i don’t want her to look like a traditional “i needed more power and so i made a deal with something ancient” character - all she ever wanted was to study and discover things, so when she was later resurrected in Northrend, she just took it as an opportunity to continue where she left off and never wanted to do things she was… expected (???) to do. she never wanted to be an antagonist nor to do the typical villain stuff or slaughter people and all that shit. she never knew her father, yet she is still determined to find out the truth. Kalu'azz… Kalu'azz worries about the future, even though an undead shouldn’t. He has researched Azeroth’s history, all he could find about the Titans… and as an archeologist that has seen Azerite popping up all over the world, he is still worried. Unlike Laeth'an, he mainly collects knowledge (that is the reason he studied to be a librarian) and thinks about what is to come. I dare to say he would be happier if he was just a mindless ghoul. Unlike the two others, Stelu'ri is a commander. She doesn’t focus on knowledge that much and instead tries to lead the death knights as humanly as possible. She knows that they’ve been treated like shit for most of their service and works hard on changing that.

The reason why do i have four dead characters and two of them are death knights is not because I’m trying to be edgy or that kind of stuff (at least i hope it doesn’t look like that), they just… i dunno, seem a biiiit more interesting than the “oh-so-wonderful-i-could-shit-my-pants” paladins or the “and then we will control the universe! *insert weird laugh here*” warlocks and all the other stuff. and I don’t have a clue how to write a demon hunter other than Zirael or the “i’ve sacrificed everything, what have you given?” kind of a DH). who knows, maybe i’ll make different characters once i figure out how to write them.

That’s all I had in mind to say about my characters. I hope you haven’t died because of the concentrated idiocy after the third sentence.

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shadowphoenixrider · 7 years

Text

The Broken and the Lost

(And thus the inevitable Broken Shore fic. A note; this occurs in the same universe as @galleywinter’s A Prayer You Can Borrow. There are, of course, differences, but assume that some of the events taking place there occur offscene here, and vice versa. Now, without further, ado, I’ll tag @fer8girl and @elfgirl931, and let the angst begin.)

They had failed.

Khadgar gazed at the growing reports with mounting despair. The casualties were phenomenal, and each list seemed worse than the last. Hundreds, probably thousands were dead, and many more missing after the failed assault on the Broken Shore.

The archmage cursed himself again for his mistakes in the Tomb of Sargeras. It had been all he could do to call the Alliance and Horde to arms, in a desperate hope that if they moved quickly enough, they could throttle the invasion before it got its roots down.

No. They could not.

They’d barely made a dent, and the demons carved into them in return. Champions and heroes from all cloths had had their numbers gutted; not even Tirion Fordring had been able to hold up against the Legion’s might, and it was only through the Light’s grace and the quick thinking of the Alliance hero Camdyn Morris that Varian Wyrnn had narrowly avoided a similar fate. Khadgar clung tightly to the small mercy.

But dark rumours were beginning to swirl. According to some of the reports on his desk, the Horde had apparently quit the field with no warning, leaving the Alliance undefended and almost crushed by the demons’ onslaught. Whispers of betrayal were starting to rise, fuelled by the said rumours, but Khadgar couldn’t believe them. He’d spent time with champions of the Horde; they placed so much emphasis on honour, and their rallying cry was ‘victory or death’; surely they wouldn’t have just left the Alliance to their fate. Not without reason.

Khadgar’s heart twisted tightly in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Thinking of the Horde invariably brought him to Draggka. They’d not spoken or even exchanged letters since he began his solo hunt for Gul’dan, but he knew the troll hunter well enough to know she would have answered the call to arms. She would have been at the Broken Shore. Did she manage to flee with the Horde? Was she one of the many cut down by the sea of demons? Was she wounded? Light above, was she in her death-throes, crying out for him as her life steadily ebbed away?

The archmage’s stomach churned, and he swallowed down the wave of fear, pain, and bile. Immediately it became crystal clear why he’d been reluctant to let anyone in close; the thought of losing the woman he loved in such a way threatened to rattle him down to his marrow, and for a moment, he wondered if he could go on. Had Khadgar doomed himself by giving his heart away to her?

The elder mage snorted, clenching his fists. No. Their time together had been all too brief, but he would not trade those moments with her away just for safety. He’d done it before, and paid the price. Besides, he knew very little, if nothing, about her and the Horde’s status. The Kirin Tor’s current partnership with the Alliance meant Khadgar had to rely on his own sources for news, and they’d given him all they could; some had even perished on the Broken Shore.

The not knowing was killing him.

“Archmage, sir?” A call from outside his study door broke him from his thoughts. “The Skyfire is making its way to Dalaran. They have many fel-injured onboard and Jaina requests your assistance and expertise when they arrive.”

“Understood.” Khadgar replied, a plan starting to form in his mind. “What time are they slated to arrive?”

“An hour, sir. Maybe two. They’re flying against a headwind.” Came the reply. Good, that’s plenty of time.

“Thank you. I will need some time to prepare, so I am not to be disturbed until they arrive. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir. I’ll let the others know.”

Khadgar waited until the footsteps faded away, before he began to cast a teleportion spell, casting his mind out to an orange desert, of tall rocks and termite mounds, and the great iron walls of the forbidden city, at least to his kind. He focused on a particular spot of the desert where he knew he would be hidden, and the archmage felt the entire world fall away for a moment as his spell completed, magic flaring brightly around him.

Then there was coarse sand under his feet, and a chill wind at his skin, but Khadgar was already tapping into Atiesh’s power, quickly launching himself into the night sky as a raven.

He knew that something was wrong as soon he was on the wing. Great torches had been erected on the roads leading to the main gate to Orgrimmar, and in the surrounding area, casting bright, flickering light over what had to be the gathering of the entire Horde. All the races were present, mostly mingling together as one, but Khadgar could see defined blocs of orcs, trolls and so on. They had clearly suffered as much as the Alliance had; few were unwounded, many leaning against their fellows to support them, and some were even borne on stretchers, healers attending to them.

Khadgar followed their gaze to a hastily constructed platform above the throng, where the leaders of the Horde were clearly in attendance. As he flew closer, the mage saw they were standing around the unmistakable shroud of a body, and his heart all but stopped as he took stock of who was there. All the races were represented, but Thrall (Go’el, he reminded himself) was present, instead of-

No.

Sylvanas Windrunner turned to speak to the assembled crowd then, and the mage was sure a hush would have fallen over them, if it hadn’t already been present.

“Vol’jin is dead!” Her unearthly voice rang out across the desert, and Khadgar heard some heart-broken wails lift from some of the Darkspear trolls. His own heart sunk in his feathery chest. “In his dying breath, he named me Warchief.” She lifted her chin, and the archmage felt a chill at how much the gesture reminded him of Alleria. “Who among you will help me avenge him?”

The roar that came from the Horde shook the air, and Khadgar felt that their cries alone could keep him aloft without a single wingbeat. They were howls of a wounded beast, full of anguish, despair, and that of furious revenge, and despite himself, Khadgar felt his hollow bones fill with hope. From his time with Draggka, he knew that although the Horde tended to bicker amongst itself, it was a family of outcasts, and woe betide anyone outside of the circle who hurt them. He had no doubt that the Horde would be eager for blood for their fallen leader, and to redouble their efforts against the Legion. Good. We cannot lose hope now, he thought to himself.

Khadgar banked away at that thought, scanning the crowd as their yells gave way to their fatigue and grief, some beginning to disperse. Worry began to gnaw at him again as he looked for his hunter, building as the crowd shifted and moved and he still couldn’t find her. The occasional false positives made it worse, and he had to resist the urge to clack his beak or curse in frustration.

It was only when he reached the peripheries did the avian archmage spot a familiar trio; a pair of red-haired trolls and a red scaled raptor around their legs. Khadgar’s heart somersaulted in relief to see Draggka alive and seemingly no physically worse for wear, even as she leaned against her older brother, his arm over her shoulders to hold her close. A great weight lifted from him at the knowledge she’d not lost her loyal companion nor her brother either. We’ve lost enough people today.

The mage dropped as low as he dared towards them, and clapped his wings together, the only thing he could think to try and attract attention, without being too obvious. To his relief, Spike immediately lifted his head and saw him, uttering a soft grunting bark to alert the siblings.

They glanced up, and words were quickly exchanged between them before Dranka sprang into the air, his lanky arms splaying out into wide bat wings, body bending and contorting into the shape of a bat. He lacked Khadgar’s agility, but his large wings allowed him to join the raven mage in only a couple of wingbeats.

“Come.” The bat-druid spoke. “Sistah be following us. Know a place ya won’t be seen.”

Khadgar nodded, flying in the wake behind the druid and trusting his night-sight to guide them away from the gathering and into the blackness of the desert.

“Here.” Dranka spoke, fluttering down to land on a small outcropping of rocks, which formed a kind of half-cave shelter from prying eyes. “I be watchin’ for danger. Take as long as ya like.”

“Thank you, Dranka.” Khadgar said, transforming back to human just before he landed, his boots kicking up a spray of sand. “I, I’m sorry for-”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” The druid replied, shuffling awkwardly on his large wings and stubby back legs. “Not ya fault.”

But it is. The archmage thought bitterly, watching Dranka take wing again, flapping away to leave him and Draggka alone. He turned to see the hunter round the corner, Spike at her side, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Her armour was battered and worn, with deep, fresh scars in the plating on the mail. The far-off torches didn’t give enough light to see if she had any new bruises (and he wasn’t sure if her regeneration wouldn’t have healed them already) but she had no obvious wounds aside from bandages he could glimpse through the broken sections of her armour.

“Draggka-” He began, but he was swiftly interrupted by the troll’s single, sorrowful utterance.

“Khadgar!” She closed the gap between them in barely two strides, throwing her arms tightly around him as if frightened he would evaporate at the slightest provocation. Khadgar hugged her just as tightly, letting Atiesh fall to the ground hold her properly, careful of the bow on her back. Spike curled himself around both their legs as well, rumbling softly.

And then she cried.

It was a wail, the beginnings of a lament of a shattered woman, and Khadgar’s heart broke, tears burning at his own eyes as the hunter he’d known to be so strong, able to weather the fiercest of storms seemed to fracture apart, clinging to him as he were the only piece of driftwood that would save her from drowning.

Sobs wracked her body enough that Khadgar wondered if her legs were going to give way, the thought making him hold her ever closer, tucking her head under his.

“I’m so sorry...” He murmured, the words feeling so pathetic and inadequate he almost wished he could stuff them back into his mouth.

Draggka hadn’t just lost her admired Warchief. She’d lost her Chieftain, the leader of her very tribe. Vol’jin had been the Darkspear, for all he’d heard from her. It was his strength that had guided the tribe through Garrosh’s reign, and it was his leadership that had turned them against their revered ancestors, the Zandalari. He’d been a legend, for all intents and purposes, both to the Horde and Alliance.

Now he was gone. Who would lead Draggka’s people now? Khadgar had never asked, but the troll had never spoke of a successor, not of children, nor of equally strong second-in-commands. It was almost as if no-one had even thought it was an outcome...

The mage felt wetness trickle down his cheek, and he realized his grief was leaking through. Much like when a wound only begins to hurt once it is observed, the enormity of the emotions suddenly struck him, turning his lungs to stone. Draggka’s bright amber eyes, her wide, beautiful smile, the rich Zandali accent that clung to her voice when she spoke Common, and he could have lost it all. In his mind’s eye, he saw their last day together, of him promising to meet her after Gul’dan’s defeat, that they would begin to properly further their relationship, of even hoping for peace to start to settle between the two factions.

Instead, he had failed to stop the warlock, and now hundreds lay dead and his lover wept in his arms, her Horde and tribe devastated. If he’d just been quicker, if he hadn’t dithered, if he’d just killed Gul’dan when he’d had the chance, none of this would have happened.

The archmage’s breath shuddered when he inhaled, struggling to keep his own pain inside when it was oozing out from between his fingers. Someone had to be strong in the midst of all this misery and despair. Khadgar had to regroup the nations, find another way; the Legion would not wait, would not allow them to mourn.

Yet all he wanted to do was hold Draggka and never let her go, and despite himself, Khadgar felt his whole body shudder with his own sobs of injustice and anguish. The war against the Legion had barely began and already so many were dead, and he felt awful for coming apart when he should have been Draggka’s port in a storm, yet trying to stop it was like trying to bail out a sinking ship with only his bare hands.

Draggka shifted against him then, and he lifted his head to see her looking up at him, eyes red and puffy, her cheeks covered in dark streaks. He noticed that some of his raven feathers were still tucked into her hair braids; they were ragged, singed and one was broken entirely, but it gave him a strange sliver of comfort to see she still had them.

“I...I failed.” Khadgar croaked out, his voice thick like tar. “I’m sorry.”

She reached up to him, gently cupping his cheek. Despite the situation, the feel of her calloused fingers against his skin sent pulses of warmth through him, and he leaned into her touch, letting it soothe him slightly.

“Da Legion killed dem. Not you,” she said quietly. “Ya did ya best. Dat’s all ya could do.” Her hand drifted to the back of his head, urging him down so their foreheads touched. “You came back to me.”

Something in her voice made a hard lump form in his throat, and the archmage had to swallow past it to speak.

“I promised I would never leave you alone again,” he said, and despite everything, a brief, small smile found its way onto his lips. “I needed to know you were alive. Nothing was coming through.” He closed his eyes, squeezing her closer. “Thank the Light and your Loa for keeping you safe. And Spike, and your brother.”

“Dey kept ya safe too.” Draggka whispered. “I coulda lost ya in dat tomb too.”

The thought chilled Khadgar down to his bones. He remembered clawing at debris and the frantic flight across the sea, demons snapping at his tail feathers. So easily he could have met his end there with no-one to know but Maiev. Or worse...Khadgar shoved aside the memories of his brief return to Karazhan; now was certainly not the time to think of it.

“I promised you I’d come back in one piece,” he said instead, wiping away the tear tracks under her eyes. Khadgar sighed. “I’m sorry Draggka, but I can’t stay for too much longer. I will be needed in Dalaran soon, and...and...” He closed his eyes. “My love, I am loathe to ask this of you in a time like this, but...I need you to join me in Dalaran at some point.”

“Why?” The troll asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“I need your help to convince the Kirin Tor to readmit the Horde back into their ranks.” Khadgar explained. “Some will not agree with this position, and it is a...controversial thing to ask now. But now I see we face a far greater threat than I ever imagined, and we must be at our full strength to overcome it. I...I need you as a witness from the Broken Shore, to tell the Horde’s side of the story. To be a testament to your people’s valour and honour, despite-.” The mage glanced away. “I’m sorry. You’ve barely had time to mourn and I...”

There was a pause.

“Dey tink we betrayed dem, don’t dey?” Draggka said quietly. Khadgar felt his heart cringe painfully, and he could only nod. The troll let out a cry; a Zandali curse by the sounds of it. “Why? Why did I not fire da flare! Why we not give a warning?!”

“Hey hey, Draggka.” Khadgar soothed, Spike rumbling nearby. “You did your best in your situation. And you came home alive. That’s the main thing. There is no honour in death.” She glanced up at him. “I know, it’s everything the Horde stands for, but-”

“No, I know.” The hunter swallowed hard. “Dat...Dat be what Vol’jin...” She shook her head. “Dere be no honour dying dere. Our deaths gotta mean someting.”

“I agree. I need your side of the story. We need the whole story. A world at war with itself cannot stand against the Legion for long.” The archmage nuzzled his head against hers, sighing. “I wish I didn’t have to ask you this.”

“Needs must whilst da demons drive.” Draggka replied. “I know.” She returned his touch with her own, before pulling back, standing up to her full height, Spike returning to her side. “Call me, and I will come.”

A weak smile flashed across Khadgar’s lips.

“I can do a little better than that.” He reached into his bag, taking her hand and placing a small stone into her palm. “A hearthstone, tied directly to Dalaran.” He explained, as she turned the dark stone over in her hands, examining the pink Kirin Tor symbol embossed into its surface. “Use it when my servant contacts you, and I’ll meet you where I bound it. We repositioned the city in the area of Deadwind Pass to defend the Eastern Kingdoms, just above Karazhan. It seemed a wiser option than leaving it alone in Northrend.”

“Won’t I be thrown out?” Draggka asked, whilst Spike gently picked up Atiesh in his mouth and offered it to the elder mage, who took it gingerly from him.

“No. You’ll be expected by then, and I’ll be with you if we’re challenged.” Khadgar replied. “You’ll have time. I have duties to perform when I get back , and getting a meeting will take some wrangling.” He took a breath. “I fear I will anger Jaina with this request, but we must do whatever is necessary to bolster our strength. I wish I saw an alternative that did not involve tearing open her wounds.” He smiled wryly. “Get some rest if you can, my dear. Keep Spike close.”

The raptor rumbled what sounded like an assent, and Draggka stepped forward to kiss him gently, Khadgar tasting the salt of her tears on her lips.

“I will,” she said as they pulled back, smiling sadly. “See ya soon, Khadgar.”

“See you soon, my love.” He managed a smile too, before he summoned his magic, teleporting himself back to Dalaran. As soon he felt himself coalesce back in his quarters, Khadgar hurriedly wiped his face on the back of his gloves and brushed off the desert sand that clung to his robes, hoping to hide the evidence of where he’d been. He’d cut it a bit fine; he’d only just finished when his door banged loudly.

“Archmage Khadgar, sir! The Skyfire is docking at Krasus’s landing!”

“I’m coming!” He called back. The young-old mage took a steeling breath, resting his hand on his door. Alright. Here goes nothing.

And he walked out into chaos.

#khadgar #draggka #oc/khadgar #World of Warcraft #the broken shore #dranka #SPRs writing #otp: walk on the wild side #angst #so much angst #major character death.

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