Sweeping Tide (RP)

[Grysham]

Feanaro rolled the dark orb between his fingers, gazing at its perfect sphericle surface that seemed to reflect no light. It was as though a patch of perfect circular darkness jumped from hand to hand at every toss the Elf made. Its surface was as smooth as it looked, perfectly polished and cold to the touch. Although it was smooth, its surface wasn't slick and holding it wasn't a problem. At times, however, he felt a strange aura from it, whisperings like those in the dreams. If he looked at the ball from the corner of his eye it seemed less like a dark orb and more like a hole into somewhere or something else.

The tavern was as loud as a Darkshire tavern ever got. Even in revelry its patrons and residents always kept an ear on the night, an eye on the doors and windows. It wasn't unheard of for creatures to creep into town, slaughtering the unwary, or to wear the guise of the living only to entrap and slay them later. Those that were killed were often the lucky ones, those who were taken were sometimes heard. Their voices pitched in a scream echoed through the dark, twisted trees and occasional laughter that had nothing to do with joy merged with the sounds of the night.

The tavern itself was built of lighter wood than the surrounding trees, built during the time of Darkshires prosperous age, when the forest was still bright and dear or rabbits still leapt from tree to tree. Here and there patches of the dark purple wood from the now twisted trees around the town replaced the lighter wood where holes and general wear and tear had caused gaps to appear. It lent the tavern an almost deseased, pok marked look, as though the foulness from Duskwood was creeping into the very homes of Darkshire.

The tables were made from the same lighter wood, brought in from Stormwind or the townships further north. Little from the forest was willingly kept in a home, much less used on a daily basis. A solitary barmaid bent her way around tables and chairs, a tray laden with drinks in her hand. Her fiery red hair was croped short and her face, flushed from the heat of the fireplace and the work to a color almost matching her hair, was smiling the smile of all waitresses. Fixed, pleasant but unfeeling. Feanaro knew that she was a pleasant woman, yet her losses often left her short tempered with patrons.

The barkeeper himself was a Gnome who stood beside the bar, another waitress doing the actual serving of the drinks. Wrinkled with age and with a nose large for even a Gnome, he puffed on a pipe that stank of merchweed, a type of grass found on the shores of The Darkned Bank. Its brownish smoke curled up into the rafters, mixing with the other smokes from the pipes and cigars of the other patrons. He wore a scoul, among his simple tavern clothes. Dark shirt and leather trousers with a long, razor edged dagger that shone a dull blue. His eyes were almost black and darted over the entire tavern, all knew of his eagle eyed gaze. Few attempted theft in the Twisted Nag.

Feanaro sat and waited, his mind on matters besides the one here. He waited for whatever help would arrive.

[Fayeborn]

Oscald Wildwire
***********

It had been nearly two years since they had seen each other. Faenaro was his first real friend. 'Well, him and that overly hungry worg!' he thought to himself happily as he crunched through the leaves that had fallen along the gloomy path atop the back of his Mechanostrider.

The odd plainstrider-looking machine totted along, whizzing, popping and periodically hissing. Oscald's experienced hands guided the control levers sending the contraption left or right as needed. From this vantage point the gnome could see the Inn and tavern at the end of the road. He looked above through the trees and murky fog at the sun. By his best estimation there were still an hour or two before sundown but 'Times does fly by so fast these days. Hey that's it! A flying time machine! I can-' he decided (among many thoughts that race through a gnomish mind) to pack his strider up before entering. Reaching into it's heart he pulled forth a glowing gear made of gold, just slightly larger than his closed fist. He said a word over it and the rest of the strider seemingly "merged" into the gear and he placed it into his pack.

He brushed the road dust off of his bright red and yellow robes and tugged the front door open.

As dark as it seemed outside he realized this place was much darker. So dark in fact that he couldn't see virtually anything. He looked right, then left and only to his left could he see the slight colors of a fire burning. He reached up to scratch the back of his head and think on this a moment. As he ran his fingers up the back of his head they encountered two thick leather thongs.

"Of course!" he excalimed to all those nearby, as he removed the shadow goggles from his eyes. The room blazed in brightly. He began looking around other patrons at waist hieght to see if Faenaro had made it already. Insticntively he looked along the benches closest to the corners and walls before his eyes rested on the hunter.

A rather large and heartfelt smile came to the gnomes face. He had so much to tell his friend about the magics inside of him and what new school of study he was on, 'not to mention all the bombs, grenades, explosivities and other blastissimo stuff I can work!' he finished the thought. He walked rapidly over to the elf who was quite absorbed in a smooth black circular object he was rolling back and forth. As he moved closer, he heard the familiar growl the seems to accompany the hunter at all times.

"Hail there friends!" Oscald called from a safe twelve foot distance. He raised his right hand in greeting and pulled two long strips of dried meat from his pouch with his left hand. He knew all to well not to let a Alpha worg go hungry.

[Arinnaya]

It was late afternoon, when a tall, cloaked figure poked his head in. The door crackled, and a creature - no one could tell who, or what he was - stepped in.

the continous, peaceful murmuring, that filled the room, suddenly ceased in a moment, and almost all the people raised their heads up: Many began to shiver with fear, if the Undead Riders have returned. In fact, it was only the wind, that could have made them shiver more: the door stayed open, and cold, harsh winds blew throw it..

The guard, who was standing beside the door, immediately pulled his sword out of its sheath, and held it directly towards the head of the cloaked figure. This sudden move made him stop. "Whoever you are,show yourself"!! But as he finished the short command, the figure immediately removed the cloak off his head, revealing a handsome, high elven face. Yet, still, some uneasiness remained in the air, and the guard still held his blade high: "Who are you?" not even the short, and harsh command, underlined with the weapon, made the young elf tremble. He just responded in a likewise manner: "I am just thirsty, let me in!! If you wish to know anyway, I am from Stormwind, just ask the locals about the architect named Goodwright!!!"

The short, strict, and confident answer has just disarmed the guard. With his rather short mind, he would not interfere with others' business... in the end, it might be HE who would come out as a looser, and would not only loose his rank, but everyone in the army would laugh at him....

So the tall, elven figure has stepped inside, meanwhile all the other folks just continued the talks, and the inn returned to its usual peace and calm. There was, still, some unexplainable uneasiness, that came straightly "from the air" of the figure.. It might be difficult to explain, but people ...turned away from him, as he was passing by them...
Searching for a table free to occupy, or at least a single free spot, he came to one, with a Night Elven figure sitting, playing with some trinklet... He hesitated a moment, but finally decided to take the only one free place that was offered, facing him eye-to eye, yet still lowering his head, for something noone could have explained...

[Grysham]

Feanaro heard his Worg, his oldest companion since he had left Darnassus all those years ago, growl a gentle warning. He was used to the Worgs uneasyness among others, especially taverns since the events of several years back had left the creature injured.

The growls quickly turned to a barked greeting, causing several heads to turn in alarm at the Worgs sudden outburst. Most turned back however, Grythic the Worg had made a reputation for itself a number of days ago when a creature that was neither human nor beast had attacked on the outskirts. Its limbs ending in fierce claws and its almost human face screaming inhumanly at the defenders, Grythic had torn between the guards and lept at the creature. It had taken a few moments, and some well placed arrows from Feanaro's bow, to bring it down.

Feanaro, curious to see who could illicit an almost pleasant reaction from Grythic, looked up to see grey hair bobbing between several chairs and several strips of dried meat land by the Worgs snout. It wolfed them down in moments and then sat, mouth open and tongue lolling, gazing at the charitable Gnome, Oscald.

Feanaro smiled openly, a rare sight on the Elf, and rose from his chair in a deep bow.

"Welcome, Oscald. It has been some time but it seems we've yet to fully part ways. What brings you here?" Feanaro said, his voice as calm and quite as it ever was. Only the small and bright glint of the Elf's eyes showed any real happiness at seeing the Gnome.

"Oh, mutterings and gazumpheringtings and such from bars and drinking establishmeblents. I'v got all manner of contrictions for hearing out rumors, and my Rumor-zortanator happened to pick out yours." The Gnome said happily, his voice as rushed and enthusiastic as always. "Oh and I bring my own greetings and new ruminations"

"Then sit and lets speak, little Gnome. Hah, I see Grythic remembers you well" Feanaro commented as the Gnome fed a couple more strips to the hungry Worg. The Gnome patted the Worg on the head happily, perhaps one of the few who had done so without losing a finger in the process.

It was then that another drifted in from the murky afternoon outside the door. The guard challanged the heavily cloaked figure, but after some brisk words the guard stood aside gingerly, his face showing his irritation at being bested.

The newcomer radiated a sense of unease that spread even to Feanaro and the previously happy Grythic. It turned and growled deeply at the High Elf as he approached, yet the elf paid it no heed, sitting down opposit Feanaro regardless. Something about the High Elf was recognisable to Feanaro, but he paid little attention to the hero's or storys of the day. It was descriptions in passing only.

"You are welcome to this table, brother" Feanaro said softly, his voice showing a hint of distrust "I assume you have come to lend your services?"

[Shanda]

Name: (Okey il steal my old) Tallian Swift
Race: Human
Age: 30
Class: Wizard: Wizards are very different from the common or ordinary mage, rare in numbers as only a few is born with the wizard mark, yes mark, wizards are born with a flame mark in their hands and as I said only a few is and has been born with those marks the past 10´000 years.
As magic users they are powerfull, they wield common magics bit in addition they have a unique spell repetoar which only wizards can learn and use.
But of course there is a hatch, Wizards as they are few in numbers and can only learn from other wizards have a hard time as students, finding and convince another wizard to train you is both hard and time consuming...

Description: Hes´s tall, blue eyed, with a small purple spot on his left eye iris, black hair that streches down to his shoulders, he owns a body in good shape thanks to alot of traveling, mostly on foot.
He is a handsome looking man in all, not stunningly beautiful but far from ugly.
\
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The wind had died away as the rain diminished, but gray clouds still hid the sun. The outskirts of redridge had always had a beautifull nature to show lone wanderers, but the place Tallian now was heading for had nothing beautfull to show anyone. Dark clouds soaring across the sky, a thick fog you could almost walk on covered the dim forests and murky places in Duskwood.

Tallian had been on foot for almost two weeks and he felt tired, wet, hungry and awfully tired. It was still a days walk to the town of Darkshire but if he didnt stop on the way to sleep, and ate while walking he would probably reach the town in shorter time.

But then, He thought, he had no guarantees that he would be welcomed or even allowed to enter, he was a wizard after all, noone had was found of wizards, most people disliked them to the brink of hatred, why he did not know but thats just how it was. Tallian entered Duskwood haveing unpleasant thoughts.

Hours later, how many he did not know, could have been three or maybe a thousand, the fog was even thivker then he thought was possible and the air was dampen, his clothes had soaked moist from the air since he entered this forsaken and dreadfull lands, and now he started to shiver.
But he had reached his destination, Darkshire lay just ahead only a few hundred yards away, streetlights fought the ever growing fog and dimness that was the natural conditions in this place, most doors and windows were shut, "of course, he thought "the shadow hides many horrors.

As the hour was late noone but the nightwatch who was patrolling constantly
could be seen outside, some of them gave him a glance or even a friendly nod. "maybe this place has been cleansed from all the hatred against wizards,
no, probably not they did not know what he was, noone did until he showed them his hands, but that he would not do in the first place, Tallians thoughts were still dark when he walked along the main street in his search for an inn..

The Twisted Nag: Tallian had at last found a place were he could rest, "a funny name though, the twisted nag, he thought. Before entering he tried to brush some of the water of his cape and robe, but to no wail as it was all soaked in by now, "Bloody place!.
As he stepped inside the lights, shining like the sun compared to what was outside, brought him to an unsteady halt as his eyes tried to get used to it.
The inn was crowded of course noone wanted to stay outside and where could you find some amusement if not here.

The tables was almost full all of them, but in a dark corner he could make out one that was empty. Tallian chuckled quietly, "who would want to sit in a dark place as it was outside when you could sit with friend by the LIGHT and have a good time. But it suited Tallian just perfect, after getting some food and something to refresh himself with he slowly made his way across the room to that dark corner. "at last, he thought when settle himself on the chair "at last I can relax and forget this forgotten land, atleast untill the morning..

[Arinnaya]

Just as the wanderer took his place, it almost turned out to be a bad descision:

From only the corner of his eyes, as if looking through just a narrow slit, he measured the others around, especially the one straight before him... There sat the Elf, who seemed a surely enough a Sentinel from Ashenvale, beside him, a Gnome.. looked like a Tinker, with machines and small trinklets forming his whole equipment...

The Night Elf was not alone as previously seemed... A big pair of eyes, and a hungry mouth full of razor-sharp teeth warned the newcomer, that " A bad move, and I'm dust!"- as he thought in his mind. To make the situation worse, the Gnome beside him made a small turn of his head towards the Hunter, suggesting, that they are friends. However, a proud Blood Elf is not the kind of creature, that would show any sign of fear, even is such danger. He lowered his head even more, nearing the position one takes when drunk, and was about to order a drink... When the figure just before started talking, taking him fully by surprise:

"You are welcome to this table, brother!! I assume you have come to lend your services?"
He was aware of the distrust, but being more accustomed to it, than one could have imagined, immediately formed an appropriate answer:
" Brother?" - This was spine-chilling to hear, sounded like Ilidan's voice when talking to Furion - "Well, not many call me like that anymore!!!" -his voice softened after the previous word, to almost resentful - " What is exactly that you want me to do" -that sounded more like a mercenary offer, and the newcomer knew by the last one, that the beings around are actually no officers of the Alliance - they are distrustful enough to check the identity of their mercenaries first, before hiring... A great relief for the young elven fellow, but in this moment he made a mistake he would never allow himself: He raised his head a bit, to better face the Night Elf, and it became apparent, that his eyes are faintly, but recognizably glowing with an eerie greenish light...

[Fayeborn]

Dedrin Oncelight
##########

The mosquito buzzed around the carcass of a rabit. It search and sifted through fur to find some small amount of warm blood. It's actions an instinct, a necessity. It searched for some food to turn into energy for larvae. It's young. Soon they would be mighty in their own right. Vampiric insectisoids covered in small armored plates, injecting a numbing toxin before dining so that their victims don't feel their lifeblood slipping away before the mosquito has had it's fill.

Finding no repost on the remnants of the critter it buzzes away to find a new meal. Flying around branches still shriveled from the turn in seasons and leaves darkening with death it weaves a path so intricate, so deadly. It looked out at the world through multi-faceted eyes and viewed it as a feeding grounds. It buzzed over a large stripe in the layout of the land which winds through the gloomy woods. It descended to the surface briefly to feel out it's intentions. The earth below it's tiny legs responded by yeilding a damp almost cold sensation. It appeared to the insect that it's intention was just to be there. Scanning the ground again it hoisted itself back into the air, wings pumping heavily, small gusts powering it upwards creating the song of the reassuring hum the mosquito had sung all it's life.

Almost by sense rather than sight it felt warmth approaching. It flew higher to investigate the source of the temperture shift. A squat creature walked brskly towards it. From it's lower mandible hung a mass of fur wrapped tight in a nest. It's own armor plates were soft and inviting, dark grey the color of slate. Where it's antennae should be there was nothing but smooth skin, marked by some sort of discoloration. It trod heavily and even the mosquito could feel the stable air around it shifting with the force of the creatures approach. It flew higher and looked for a suitable approach. Wings beat hastily as the mosquito had to renew its efforts to keep up with the brisk stride of the creature. While it's hunger was nearly overpowering, so was it's patience forged of nature. It followed along waiting for the right time and place to dine.

The creature kept up this brisk pace until it reached a den of some sort constructed of wood and stone. The mosquito landed on the soft armor of the creature near it's neckline and waitied. The creature removed a wooden plank at the front of the den and walked inside. The inside of this den was full of other creatures. The mosquito knew it had to move fast. Taking again to the air it hovered above the creatures head for a moment before landing as light as a feather atop the glistening skin. It was rewarded with warm supple flesh, and it knew the blood from this one would soon fill it's belly.

As the stout beast was restoring the wood plank to the entrance of the den, it sunk it's wicked piercer deep into the oily damp skin. A dark flow of blood was soon occupying it's hollow needle. It was so enraptured in the feast that it never saw it's end coming.

*SLAP*

"Curses." Dedrin mumbled as he brought his hand down in front of his face. He flicked the carcass from his palm with his forefinger. He then rubbed massive, scarred hands together and peered about The Twised Nag Inn.

Full of all sorts of patrons, they seldom paid attention to the new one in their midst. The aromas of various weeds and tobaccos intermingled with sweat, iron, stew and spilled ale filled his nostrils immediately. He wrinkled his nose as he moved further in. Moving towards the bartop he saw the gnome proprietor and raised his hand to gesture him over. The gnome let out his latest pipe-pull in a large puff of greyish smoke and with a look of annoyance walked towards the dwarf. He stood there and looked expectantly towards the patron a raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Innkeep." Dedrin said in a thick accent, "The bards spoke o' a place where a man might make a few coins?" he jousled the prayer beads hanging from his belt, the iron striking iron to resemble a jingling sound, as if to emphasize the word coins.

"Ya, you might. There's a hunter there" he raised his small arm and pointed at the elf without so much as looking "who wishes some company for a journey. Although I doubt he needs someone to cover him with prayers and blessings." the gnome said with a smirk, a verbal rebuttal to the prayer beads.

Dedrin raised his iron prayer beads in his workworn right hand and cleched his fist tightly around them, eye level to the gnome.

"That be good. I ain't that kinda' priest." Dedrin retorted as he eyed the gnome intently. He shook the beads once again, knuckles white with the pressure before hanging them back on his belt.

"A tankard, if you please." While it was a polite request, nothing in the tone of the words suggested pleasantry and the gnome grinned and gestured to a serving maid. She looked as if to question him and he pointed at a cask. She nodded once and a moment later produces a large frothy tankard.

The dwarf took up the tankard easily in his large hand and laid a few silver coins on the wooden counter with a clank. His hand was hardly off of them before the deft fingers of the gnome picked them up easily and weighed them.

"Profitable journey to you dwarf." the inkeep said.
"Better be." the dwarf replied as he swung his wide shoulders around and began to move through the throng of people to the elfs table. He took a quick count of the table. A light elf, a dark elf, another gnome and assuredly an unseen animal companion. The eyelid around his scar twitched once before he pulled a long draught from his tankard. He sighed after he felt the cool liquid slide down his throat easily. The road dust washed down, it was time to handle a bit o' business.

He didn't see an open seat at the table so he drug over an adjacent bench and sat on the open side between the light elf and dark elf.

"Dedrin Oncelight." he stated as an informal introduction. "I heard there was some work to'be hed fer' a holy man?" he began laughing a deep raspy laugh and kept laughing until his face was red and flushed. Obviously he found humor in his question.

[Grysham]

Feanaro saw the green tinge to the other Elf's eyes, a glow not unlike the fiery cast of a Night Elf, though emerald in color. Although he had never seen it on an Elf of his kind before, he dismissed it. He had put out the call for any willing to answer, he was not the kind to be picky with his companions as long as their blades were with him, not against him.

As ever, Grythic kept his eyes locked on the Elf, his deep growl low but threatening. Often Feanaro left watching his back to his companion Worg, the great beast as protective of Feanaro as a pack mother of her litter. He would remember to watch those who came closely, however, as the nature of the mercenary was of an ever changing loyalty.

He looked the Elf straight in his strange eyes when he spoke, Feanaro broke his gaze with no creature. Often his pride was a match for Grythics, the one bolstering the other even in the direst circumstances. Of course a hint of competition ran between the Elf and Beast also, the two often seeking to outdo eachother in ferocity.

"Explanations will have to wait for a moment, brother. I await others to our table this eve. All answers shall be had by sundown." Feanaro stated, his tone one of finality.

Oscald snorted and looked through the window. "As though you could tell the difference in a repulsimable place such as this. Reminds me of the time the great garfilibuster Thunderclap shoved me in that fish barrel, which led me to discover the ilfimortaphenes present in rotting fish. Of course that led me to the procrastinator-matic that..." the Gnome gabbled, interrupted by a raised hand from Feanaro. "Heh, but another time" he finished, a lopsided grin on his face.

The next to join them was a Dwarf, garbed in plane robes and carrying a scar by his eye. He had a grizzled look to him, as though the years of travel and misadventure had all left a mark upon him, creating the roadworn traveler before them. The Worg beneath the table growled anew, drawing the Dwarf's eyes to it. As ever, Grythic let his prescense known.

The Dwarf pulled over a bench and sat without a word, grinning to the gathered at the table as he did so dropping his tankard down on the table, frothy ale sloping over the side. Feanaro noticed the metalic prayer beads in the Dwarf's hand, even though the Dwarf radiated an attitude unlike most priests. The Elf turned his thoughts elsewhere, however. He knew how this world could change a person.

"Dedrin Oncelight." The Dwarf stated, his large grin ever prescent "I heard there was some work to'be hed fer' a holy man?"

The laught that followed his words was taken up only by the Gnome, who seemed to cackle for the Dwarf's benefit alone. His laughter quickly died down when he realised that the groups eyes were on him, and he blushed at the sudden attention.

"Jus' thought it was funny... you know... with the..." He muttered, looking away.

Dedrin turned to Feanaro, ignoring the Gnomes unease. "So ye' hav' a job as needs doin' aye? Wha's the details then?" He said, his accent thick.

Feanaro was sure he recognised the dialect, yet was unable to place it. Still, it mattered little. He needed blade and muscle only, their origins were none of his concern. In Duskwood it was ill advised to go wondering alone and even Feanaro, confident of his abilities, was unwilling to needlessly risk himself if unrequired.

"As I said to our other guest here" He said "I await sundown before I continue. We will be leaving at dawn tomorrow shortly after."

The Dwarf snorted and knocked back his tankard.

[Fayeborn]

Dedrin Oncelight
##########

"As I said to our other guest here" He said "I await sundown before I continue. We will be leaving at dawn tomorrow shortly after."

The Dwarf snorted and knocked back his tankard. He set the wooden mini-vat down on the table with an audible thump.

"Well then, at' settles it." having made up his mind Dedrin stood back up forcing the bench back, its support legs scraping roughly against the wooden floor planks.
"Ano'er ale it is. Ah'll drink et to our venture." he said with the faint hint of a grin. His face was chisled as stone and seldom used to humor. The result of his grin seemed more of a sneer of contempt than a genuine smile. In fact it was neither. Dedrin realized he had a rough appearance and didn't want to reveal to his new "company" the darkness within. His own struggle with faith, and shadows (doubts he called them) that consumed his being. He masked it behind the mask of humanity.

He picked up his empty vessel and carried it back with him towards the bar, working his way through the crowded main hall.

________________________________________________________________
Oscald Wildwire
***********

The gnomes mind was spinning wildy around in circles as it was prone to do.

'Whatever could Fean have gotten himself into this time? Did he need the help of such weird and uniquetted people? Was it an adventure of magnaminmammoth purportions?? I love adventure! Nothing is so right as a gnome in the midst of history in creation! A mighty gnome as .. well ..' His crooked grin returned as he thought 'ME! Gnomicus Masterus!!'

As his thoughts concluded he felt a jarring to his left side and was slid over at least 4 inches along the rough wooden plank he was poised upon. It caught him off guard and he splayed both arms out to the side to brace himself for a fall and regain his balance.
"Whoa!" he squeaked as his arms settled and he realized he wasn't falling. He looked down to see the mammoth furclad neck of Grythic the Worg ending in it's ever sniffing snout trying to hunt down the source of the meat strips. He sniffled in again, harder this time sending the gnome sliding nother three inches!

"Ok, beast, ok, I yield! I yield!" he started giggling as he delved into the pouch to retrieve the rest of the dried boar he retained. The worg made little pretense at enjoying the meal. Instead he made short work of it with finger length fangs. He patted the animals head again and looking at it had a idea and then his mind went off again at lightning speed.

'If I had a device large enough to surroundifidus the neck and chest of Grythic I could ride him! Wouldn't that be magnificentality?!? A gnome of war astride a mightened worg? Oooohh! Can you imagine the panic in the eyes of abominalitions and undead denizendoids everywhere? A-' the thoughts continued as he waited for the declaration of what purpose they all had in this buisiness of Feanaro's.

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn
*****************
As Elythriande faced the Night Elf, something went wrong: he felt the sudden pull of the magic of some sort, but to immense proportins... That has almost succeded in breaking his concentration. Had he abandoned his struggle, even for a second, it would have become chrystal-clear to everyone around, that the newcomer is actually one of the most passionately hated enemies of the Night Elves, and the most despised ones by Humanity. For it is a signature like the fangs of the Orcs...

That's it: the onnly reason why High Elven eyes don't glow is that they are fully bereft of all connection to the True Powers of Arcane... Those who ever tried to satisfy the unquenchable thirst for arcane by some sinister means, have received a trait unignorable: the green glow of eyes.

The young Blood Elf lowered his head in an instant, he realized, his concentration was broken. But, in a few seconds, he straightened his upper body, revealing a pure-blue eye again. It was then, when a second untrustworthy mercenary poked his head in: It was a dwarf, not denying his drunkard nature: his first route led him to the bar, for some ale.. Elythriande knew that the dwarves are actually as passionate about drinking, like the Blood Elves are about magic...

He went straight to the Night Elf, immediately asking about the job, while the Gnome was feeding the Worg: "One less thing to worry about"- Elythriande thought. But the Elf din't tell the Dwarf any details as well. His figure was more amusing, than serius, but made the young Blood Elf further concerns...

It was clear-enough now that some dark business is on the way. Therefore Elythriande turned his head to the Night Elven "brother", leaned closer, and whispered silently into the air, just loud enough to hear by everyone at the table:

"Let's make it clear: I Don't want to get involved in Defias business... If it's about 'takin' care o' some man', or stuff, count me out!!! I'm a warrior, not a thief!!"

[Grysham]

Feanaro heard the Elf speak, his patience waining "Let's make it clear: I Don't want to get involved in Defias business... If it's about 'takin' care o' some man', or stuff, count me out!!! I'm a warrior, not a thief!!"

Outside the window the light was begining to Dim, though it was close to imperceptible. Though it was more likely late afternoon than dusk, Feanaro chose to share the reason for those gathered. It seemed as though others were not forthcoming, though he was unsurprised. Duskwood was not known for its hospitality.

"Very well, I shall state my reason for calling on you. Once you have heard me out you may make you decisions by morning to come or stay. Bare in mind I draw on you out of caution rather than neccesity" Feanaro said, his voice raised to be heard by all members prescent.

The Elf stared at him more intently, his eyes now blue in color, the green glow seemingly gone. Something was familiar about the green glow, something that teased the edges of his mind, however his mind was on the orb and the journey ahead and once again he dismissed it.

The Dwarf and Gnome both turned and were silent, the Dwarf throwing back his ale periodically while the Gnome lay a hand on Grythics snout. The Worg was chewing on the strips of dried meat the Gnome had offered and was unconcerned with anything else. Around them the tavern continued its business as usual, though he did notice the dark Gnome barkeep turn his eyes the Elf's way. Something about him had set Feanaro on edge since he had arrived at the Twisted Nag.

"Though the details are unnecesary for now, I aim to travel much deeper into the woods in this area. I have read from a number of scrolls which all claim to map the site of an ancient temple to Duskwood, to the south. No doubt it lies beneath the farmsteads of this place" Feanaro went on, members still silent "The woods here have been deeply corrupted, I can feel the pain of the very earth beneath my feet. To the south I feel only deeper corruption, your blades will be needed"

"And as fer' payment? Aye, I'l ney be riskin' me hide on some foolish elven errand" The Dwarf grunted. His fists clenched around the prayer beads then relaxed, gripping the tankard instead.

"Payment will come in the form of the treasures from the temple. If the scrolls are accurate, the temple was once a lucritive place for trade and worship" Feanaro said, frowning at the Dwarf "You'l find trinkets and items of value, I have no doubt. Should that not be enough" he finished "perhaps this will keep you interested"

From a pouch Feanaro brought out several fist sized pendants. They appeared to be crafted from the purest silver and were garnished with minor gems. In their own right, each was a large sum.

The Elf's eyes lit up at the wealth on the table while the Dwarf grined and reached a hand forwards, only to pull his fingers back swiftly as a dagger landed firmly on the table. It trembled in Feanaro's grip.

"Needless to say, each will keep you in ale for some time, Dwarf. Now what say you?"

[Shanda]

Name: Tallian Swift
Race: Human
Age: 30
Class: Wizard
\
\
The evening had dragged on with nothing special happening exept villagers, watchers and whom els who wanted a drink had entered, and those who left to of course, tho they were fewer. Tallian had since long finished his meal and was now only drinking if in a slower speed then most men did.
He was ever watchfull and gazed around the tavern for any suspicious looks from anyone who might find him unusual and wanted to ... "have a chat".

As more time passed by thoughts of finding a place to sleep came crawling into Tallians mind, he could not hire a room, firstly as someone could see his hands ny misstake, and secondly because he did not think he could afford it.
Wizards were poor almost by nature, noone wanted their help, "noone wanted
to be closer then 5 miles from one, he thought and chuckled. No if you got heavy minded you would soon succumb and in time vanish..

Pushing the thoughs of sleep and other people away, that problem he would tend to later. His gaze once again swayed across the room in search for something, someone. Not far from his own table, maybe thirty feet away he saw two elves a gnome and a dwarf heads close togheter, "odd, he thought, dwarves and elves usually keep a distance from each other and of gnomes he thought nothing as he had not met many of their kin.

loosing interests almost at once as whatever they were up to did not include him and therefor they were of no interest.
The rest of the inn was crowded with the usuall patrons and other folk, drinking, telling stories.. laughing, things Tallian himself never had spent time doing, the word "fun" seemed far away for a person like him.

"hehe yes I also have seen one of em wizards, corrupted and evil they are! mark my words, nothing good will ever come from on of them! nono but anyway where were I? .. Ah yes the wizard, yes yes one of em came to the village of mine a couple weeks ago, and asked for food and shelter but as all know they are evil and worship dark gods we did what every proud and honoureble man should do, .... what? yes we hanged him, thats what we did and you can be damned sure he took himself long time to die, bloody fiends..

Tallian almost stopped breathing, maybe it was time to leave this place, the faster the better, when people started to talk like that, even if he was drunk and probably never had seen a wizard it was still dangerous if anyone found out what he was..
Tallian shivered at the thought of getting his identity exposed.
Collecting the few things he had removed from his backpack including what food he had left and the extra bread he had bought, he would sure need it now..
He got up from his table and started moving towards the exit, when he passed the table where the elves and gnome and the dwarf sat he gave them a fast glance and to his surprise saw a worg sitting beside one of the elves.
"odd...he thought, worgs are intelligent and proud creatures, atleast those not tainted by the curse which flows through these woods.

It was almost pitchdark outside and only the feint glow from the steetlights made it possible to find the way, he could use a spell to see in darkness as good as in the day but he did not dare whitin the town..
slowly making his way along the mainrode, away from the twisted nag, Tallian started humming on an old song, that only wizards knew, a sad and heartbreaking song filled with sorrow and dispare, but thise feeling also held a thight grip on Tallians heart and soul. But one day, one day this would end..

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn
*****************

Time was passing by, and the tavern was full, as it could have been on those dark, god-forsaken lands.. The lively sound of guests 'putting the world to rights' by the warming presence of drinks, filled the air. The gnomish taverkeeper - with a bright smile on his face - was happy, as a merchant could be, when profit reaches its zenith. At a distant table, near the rear exit of the inn, a dark company of cloaked travellers gathered, all their heads leaning closely towards eachother, thus making it impossible for outsiders to tell, what illegal business they are running in the moment.

Yet if it were the Defias in real, it would not have caused stir at all. The resident of this dark place were pretty much accustomed to bandits having their daily ale at the inn. The letter of the law forbade only killings in taverns, but could not hinder the entering of suspicious characters at all... Thus not even the sole-one armed guard watched them...

With all the adventurers around, the mercenaries uneasy, time has come to get the final revelation of the business from the Hunter... Corrupted sanctuary, nightmares, hidden treasures... all sounded not so bad in someone's mind, who has seen more battles, when not even the survival was guaranteed, and yet, no reward... The terms sounded more than acceptable to the Sin'dorei fellow. So did the glance at the 'treasure': Well, Elytrhiande wasn't addicted to gold... Yet the lure of silver and the gems did exert an irresistable pull upon him, like it was a power source of magics...

If one grows up in powerty and has his life spent in battles, just about the sole survival - the only reward, more enemies to fight - that one will easily take the easier path, to make a decent living. The dangers are the same - and yet at least, you risk your life for something, that you can eat and drink, not just the empty label of 'honourable death'!!!

The question was posed to the dwarf first - but Elythriande was quicker to respond:
" Corruption matters me not. The riches, on the contrary: I pledge yourself into your service for the time being!"

After a tiny pause, he continued: "Don't ask any unwanted questions, though, if you don't want to get the adventure into an uncomfortable end!!"

[Fayeborn]

Dedrin Oncelight
##########

*The Elf's eyes lit up at the wealth on the table while the Dwarf grined and reached a hand forwards, only to pull his fingers back swiftly as a dagger landed firmly on the table. It trembled in Feanaro's grip.

"Needless to say, each will keep you in ale for some time, Dwarf. Now what say you?"*

The dwarf scowled and then bit back a smile. He had already decided he respected the 'no-nonsense' demeanor of the elf. He was about to reply when the other elf beat him to it.

*" Corruption matters me not. The riches, on the contrary: I pledge yourself into your service for the time being!"

After a tiny pause, he continued: "Don't ask any unwanted questions, though, if you don't want to get the adventure into an uncomfortable end!!"*

One eye on the pendant and one eye on the dagger the dwarf responded with similar sentiments;

"Ah can see some profit in it after all. An' I be more accustomed to travellin' underground than some, so it be well ah go along."

((OOC note: when Dedrin thinks to himself it will be without a typed accent. This is for ease and convienance on the readers part. There still may be some dwarvish sounding sayings however as his mind would work the same..))

'Actually this works out pretty good' he thought, careful to keep only his natural stern expression. 'A chance to go into the deep and find traces of it. Tastes of it.' He nodded to no one in particular and drained the rest of his tankard.

"Ah'm with ya' elf."

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ocald Wildwire
**********

Oscald listened as Feanaro explained a rough outline of what was to come. He watched as the strange elf accepted and the dwarf also agreed to the terms.

The gnome knew he was going to go no matter what. If Fean' needed something, he was going to be there. They had seen too much in their past together and he wouldn't let him down. Over the last six years since their first adventure, they had taken random jobs here and there before agreeing a few years back to meet up again in another year. The gnome had set off to explore abilities he never knew he had and Feanaro had set off to do whatever he does. They met up a year after that, Oscald looking a little older and a little more comfortable around people. Also a little improved in his skills. That was two years ago. Two years that the little gnome knew for himself had been harder on him, and assumed the same of Feanaro's time away. The elf had a sterner look about him this time. Almost a haunted look. Oscald knew the feeling behind thaty look. He had one on his own face this past year.

It was in that time he realized that everyone else wasn't crazy and he did have an affinity with shadow magics. This went against everything he had ever known about himself and caused a deep trouble in the gnomes heart. Since then he embraced it a bit and even sought instruction over it.

That look he remembered, was the look of resignation. A man who accepted something that he didn't want to accept. A man that came to a realization.

He patted the Worg's head, and grinned at his elven comrade.
"You know you can count on me, plus you will always need a expertimal in explostivities!"

[Jondar]

Corporal Eleazar

***

Eleazar pulled the small parchment out of his belt pouch and glanced at it warily. Mercenaries wanted. He had come all the way from Stormwind this evening, and was tired and sore from the gryffon he had ridden. It was a particularly disagreeable one it seemed, but that did not make a difference. It only added to his irritation. A grunt of disgust welled up from deep in his chest as he realized where he was and what he was doing. He was quite familiar with Duskwood and the surrounding lands - his service had brought him here very often.

But he was not here for military service.

The letter crumpled in his hand as he made a sudden fist and threw the piece of paper into his pack. Bloody mercenaries. He began walking down the twisting dirt road leading to town as the sun began to sink, signifying the end of the day. His breath misted in from of him as he marched - he was sorry to see the sun go down. Not that the sun provided any warmth here, of course; Darkshire was aptly named, and even on the hottest summer days it scarcely got to be pleasant. The trees flanking the path were withering down to nothing as winter approached, which only added to the uneasy feeling the Corporal often experienced while he was stationed in Darkshire. It seemed to fit the area, though; Darkshire was a dark place, meant for dark creatures. He would even dare to say that it had an evil aura.

As he came upon the center of town, he noticed that the various armor and weapon merchants, as well as bakers and the like were storing their wares for the evening. They were headed home, and most of them looked anxious. It was not wise to stay out in Darkshire after dark. Abnormal creatures were often found in these woods.

But he was not here to analyze the town's citizens. He was here because he had messed up. He was here not because he was ordered, although in a sense he wished he was. Sometimes the heart is a difficult thing to obey, especially to a man who had long been ordered to harden his. He was uneasy doing anything against the knowledge of the Alliance army. In fact, his orders told him to be out in Theramore at the moment, defending the port city against the Horde. But he knew he could not; rarely had his heart pulled him so. Rarely had he felt this guilty about anything.

He pulled the old, faded burlap cloak tighter over his head to set himself and kept walking down the path to the Twisted Nag Inn, where his fate awaited him. He knew that as a military man, what he was doing was treason. If he saw an officer who recognized him, he would likely be arrested on the spot, perhaps even executed if the army saw it grievous enough. He only hoped that his disguise suited him well enough.

His legs moved stiffly, unsure of what path to take in this moral dilemma. This was a time in his life that his rationality and his passion conflicted; he felt convicted. Never had he had the plague of a conscious this strong before. Eleazar was not an immoral man - it is just that his heart had not before screamed at him to take action like this. He felt at odd ends with himself.

As he approached the door to the noisy inn, the weight of his years seemed to catch up with him. By no means was he young - at this point in his life, he should have been a Knight-captain, as was intended. Or a Master Sergeant, at the very least.

But he knew why he was not.

He knew that if he opened these doors, his life would take a drastic change. He hated mercenaries. They were men and women who had no idea what real wars were like; they were vagabonds, hoping for a shot at glory and riches.

He knew that if he opened these doors, he would become one.

His hand seized the doorknob. He swallowed the lump of self-loathing is his throat as he felt the cool metal against his hand. He knew that as soon as he talked to the Night Elf Feanaro, his career as a military man was almost guaranteed to be over.

But to him, that was something he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of honor.

He double-checked his posture before he moved; if anything, that was a dead giveaway as to what and who he was. His posture often belied him as a military officer, even though a Corporal is only a petty veteran.

It was often said that Eleazar possessed the strength of a bull; unfortunately, he also possessed its grace. Disguise and subtlety were not his fine points. He hunched his shoulders somewhat awkwardly, dishevelled his balding hair at an attempt to look like a normal townsperson, and took another deep breath. His attempt at looking like anything but what he was was laughable at best. He strode through the doors with a grimace and a knowledge that he looked a fool.

Smoke greeted him, as well as the weight of what he had just done. He felt now as if there was no turning back. Resolve to regain his dignity and integrity set in, and he knew that he would do anything for that sake.

His eyes roamed the room for any sign of threat as was natural to him, but he saw none. The tavern was a seedy, dark one, where a chorus of drunken singing and laughing was lifted towards the heavens. Smoke floated heavily and ponderously towards the rafters, and many men sat with long faces staring into their tankards.

But more notably was the table of adventurers that he had sought so loathfully and desperately. Just about every one of the Allied races sat at the booth, speaking softly around the Night Elf, who was obviously the leader. There was a glint in their eyes which he knew to be greed; he had hired mercenaries in the past to serve in the Army, and they were always the first to run or betray as soon as they had their reward.

With a deep breath, Eleazar strode over to their table and pulled up a chair. The curious party stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

Gods forgive me.

"Corporal Eleazar of the 23rd battalion of Stormwind, reporting for duty," he recited on instinct. His voice was cold and formal.

It was clear that the party was taken aback. Queer glances darted back and forth between the group; it was obvious that a military man was quite an unexpected addition, and from the tone of his voice they felt that he did not relish the idea of being in their company.

Eleazar sat uneasily, his heart and mind torn, and waited for their response.

**

I know this was VERY long, but I felt I had to get across his anxiety. Don't worry, my posts in the future will be 1/4 this long. :) Hope it fit with the story well enough.

[Grysham]

<OOC: An RP post can never be too long in my oppinion. Nicely written>

Feanaro Serona
##########

The Elf nodded as each pledged his alliegence to his terms, the small horde of silver and jewles on the table making a noticable difference to their loyaltys. Though it was distastefull, what mattered was he had blades at his side and his old friend watching his back.

The Gnome's appearance had surprised him, both in its unexpectedness and sudden welling of comradery. As much as Grythic was family, Oscald was perhaps the closest he had come to a friend. Despite the constant distraction the orb and his latest dreams caused, Feanaro was genuinly curious as to what the Gnome had done the last year, since the discovery of his darker magical abilities. Though Feanaro's kind were inheritantly distrustfull of magic, and with good cause, he could not imagine Oscald using his abilities for gain and profit.

All that remained of the meeting was to retire, prepare for the morning and recheck his maps and equipment. Duskwood was known for its shifting landscape, with roads that led a traveler deeper into a maze which many seldom returned from. The only constants where the well traveled main roads, patroled by alliance forces and well worn by traders or adventurers. To step from a well trodden path was to tempt fate.

The pendants still sat on the table top, the silver gleaming in the dull lamp light. Even with his mind elsewhere, Feanaro could almost feal the eyes of the other patrons on the loot. Not least of those was the barkeep, the dark Gnome whose eyes had yet to leave their table since the Dwarf had approached. Weather the Dwarf was the cause of the Gnomes curiosity, or weather it was the treasure that graced his table, Feanaro couldn't be sure. He was only certain of a certain nervous gut feeling the Gnome left him with.

As was his want in recent days, he dismissed it yet again, his mind turning back to the orb while the others discussed things between them. He half heard Oscald ask him something, but the orb in his hands now held all his attention.

It was only the approach of a human, his appearance somewhat disheveled yet his stance one of pride, that took his eyes from the dark obsidian ball.

"Corporal Eleazar of the 23rd battalion of Stormwind, reporting for duty," His voice rang, a practised and almost mechanical tone, reminiscent of those he had met from the army those many years ago when his family had been lost. He almost heard an underlying sense of nervousness from the man, but it was gone almost as quickly as it was heard.

The Human, past his youth now that Feanaro had had the opportunity to look at him, now pulled another chair from a vacant table and sat himself down hastily. He sat straight backed and hands placed in fists on his lap, as though expecting some reprisal or rebutal from those prescent. The Elf nodded at the human and gestured to those gathered as he spoke.

"You are welcome, corporal, to our table. There is no duty to be had here, I look only for competant blades and nothing more" he said flatly.

Once done with his greeting, the Elf went back to the orb, ignoring the others while his mind went over the dreams for what must have been the millionth time.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Charik Westbrook
##########

His form bent to the dark woods floor, his eyes close to the leaf covered ground. His grey fingers dug into the soft putrid earth and let the dark purple soil sift through his fingers while his nostrols flaired, taking in scents no normal beast would sense. The autumn floor of the Duskwood was bare of all life save what twisted braken or skeletal bush could break its darkned surface, forcing what was left of life out into the world between bleak decayed trees. In this setting Charik seemed truely at home.

He grunted, a sound that almost hinted of satisfaction, and returned to his feet. Somewhere in his body a joint cracked as he stood, the sound in this deep place seemed to carry for eternity. There was no other noise save this, no skuttle of wildlife, no buzz of insect. Even the distant cry of the birds was lost here.

The creature, standing straight backed now, its sightless eyes turned to the darkening haze to the south, seemed to become more determined. Its body slowly crouched forwards till its overlong, thin muscled forearms touched the earth once more. Its body began a discordant lope over the dark forest floor, moving faster than its body seemed capable of achieving.

Its form was human, to an extent. Yet its skin was grey and sinewy, as though the skin had been stripped away to show the dead muscle beneath. Its back was bent in a hunch, like that of an ape or gorilla from the jungles far south of this dark place, and here and there its spine seemed to break the surface of its skin. Long forearms and muscled legs ended in broken, bent hands, fingernails more like claws.

It was its face that seemed most out of place. Though as grey as its body, the face had a placid calmness to it, as though of one finally accepting his place in the world, happy with his nitch. It was calm, relaxed, and even carried a smile born of true happiness. Every now and then an inhumanly long tongue would leave its mouth to lick at its face, the tip probing the bandages that wrapped its eyes tightly. The blackening bandages gave the appearance of an old and gangrenus wound. They wrapped round the creatures head, covering its eyes from a world which would have retreated in disgust from this abomination.

As it ran into the wood its only thoughts lay on its prize. Somewhere closeby was something its master desired. The overwhelming sensation of happiness that welled through it as it thought of its masters desire almost brought the creature to a stand still.

It ran on.

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn
*****************

This day, that really has promised nothing, but another travel in disguise, and only a small point in the itinerary, has really ended as satisfactory for the young Blood Elf. A great adventure promised by the sectretive Night Elf, and besides, a SURE payment for all troubles. He just begin to feel himself comfortable, which truely happened first after so much weeks of danger, lies and hiding, throughout the whole alliance territory..

It was since months that the young Sin'dorei fellow has decided to leave behind the lands, that he already knew farely well, and granted him at least a diminutive sense of safety, to take on the path that not many of his fellows ever dared to take: deep into the heart of Alliance... Naturally, as always, he had other motives as well, that he never told such outsiders, like his present comrades... But all we can tell, that he had some connections within Stormwind, so his lies weren't bereft fully of any truth...


The deal was made, that enlightened all the comarades around, especially the mercenary ones. Yet it almost became a single cry of dispair for some in a moment...

A man, who looked much like a military officer, had stepped into the inn. He took his steps hastily towards the table of our adventurers: his eyes empty of emotions, promising nothing... He straightly stepped to the Night Elf, and started with the usual military salutation:

"Corporal Eleazar of the 23rd battalion of Stormwind, reporting for duty"

Elythriande's heart sunk: "I am caught on illegel business, this IS the end!!" - while he take a suggestive gaze upon the backdoor, not far from him, " only 10 steps, quickly, and I am safe again!" - the thought came as quick as lightening - and he positioned his leg onto a jump start...

However, as seconds passed, and nothing happened, his pride overcome him finally: It is me, who is the more experienced veteran among us: I could easily beat him if I wished to - "I won't be afraid of a Footman, like those of Garithos!!!"

But still, these brave words wouldn't be followed by acts, even if he did get into trouble: He was on enemy territory, and he knew it well enough: so the only final solution that remained was to flee, the moment if the soldier turns on him....

[Fayeborn]

Ocald Wildwire
**********
Oscald knew little about the loyalty of a guardsman, human or otherwise. The only time he had encounters with those pledged to guard the cities were when his former master had smoothed talked their way out of sticky situations when people smart enough among his audience learned of his trickery.

Of all the assorted races at the table, the gnome was the least affected by the officers presence. The human, while perhaps suffering a bout of anxiety about something, seemed right in place with the rest of them.

He grinned at Eleazar.

"Welcome man of arms!" he said in greeting. He had found throughout his travels that those skilled with the blade such as Feanaro and this new addition were always welcome in a group setting. 'And as a bonus' he though to himself 'that armor will surely protect him in case an explosivity happens to near and too rapidly for us to react!'. He remembered all to clearly an iccident that occured years ago in a inn not unlike this one, with a dwarven innkeep not unlike the funny priest.

Of course, those were times when his skill was untested. Now his bombs were of iron and heavy powder. When they were used, they were to be used with great care.

He saw his elven friend was back into his "orb" of thought and reached over placed a hand on his shoulder. It was as much a gesture of comaderie as it was an assistance device to help him get off of the bench.

"I suppose we adventurifficly at morn's light!" he smiled ear to ear at each of them before he said his "goodnights and safe sleepings", patted the worg and bobbed off into the crowd between himself and the proprietor, anxious to find a small room to study in.

----------------------------------------------
Dedrin Oncelight
##########

Squinting through ale sodden eyes at the newest arrival, he grunted. 'Never bad to have an extra blade about, I suppose. Ifin' you rely on simple blades' he said to himself. His eyes went back to the trinkets on the rough wooden tabletop. The gemstones and silver reflected the firelight, casting a tiny myriad of color into his eyes.

"Elf, ye' may want to keep those for travelin' expenses for the lot of us. Would hate to hae' to trust myself not to spend it before we geht to te' real treasures. An' ifin' ye' be trustin' us to accompany you, I be trustin' enough ta' let ya' hold onto eht." he stated matter-of-factly. The truth was Dedrin trusted no one at this point. He realized however that if all the profit stayed in one place, it'd be less he'd have to keep his eyes on for the moment.

"Maybe best if ya' yield a small portion of that at when we be' arrivin' where eht is we go." he added, careful not to reveal his true line of thinking.

"At dawn then." he picked up his empty tankard and stood up sliding the bench backwards beneath him with a loud scrape across the floor. He made his way back towards the bar, fingers on his freehand already picking the fare for more ale out of his coin pouch.

[Jondar]

Corporal Eleazar
***

Eleazar glanced sideways at a certain Blood elf who jumped suspiciously at his mention of being a Corporal and hailing from Stormwind. The elf grimaced in such a way that he looked to be torn between either attacking him, running away, or crying, and couldn't decide which to do. Eleazar fixed him with a stare before turning to the rest of them. What in the nine hells is a Blood Elf doing here, in Darkshire? In all my years as a military man, I've yet to meet one...

The other four remaining figures were Feanaro, who dismissed the Corporal's introduction as nothing, a gnome that seemed entirely unperturbed at his being there, a beligerently drunken dwarf, and a fellow that appeared to be a mage. They all looked at him and greeted him individually before returning to the task at hand. They smelled of smoke and liquor, and grinned greedily as they looked upon the the table's contents.

These creatures are to whom I must trust my life? His lip curled back in an unwanted sneer as he glanced about the rag-tag group, and noticed the heap of silver lying on the table. He grunted. I am no better than a prostitute, to join these people for the sake of that.

Feanaro looked at Eleazar in silence for a moment before explaining the vague mission that involved going to some southern buried temple. "So," he began, "are you in?"

A thousand thoughts popped into his head at once - yes, no, of course, I have no choice - but the answer that came out was a curt "Yes."

Feanaro nodded. The group broke into small talk, speaking of what they were going to do with the earnings and treasures they got, when Feanaro began to ask him another question, but was interrupted by the dwarf and gnome's decision to retire for the evening. The gnome rose first and grinned from ear to ear as if he found this whole situation amusing. "Good night and safe sleepings," he said jovially as he stood. Eleazar gave him a blank stare before he turned and walked away upstairs. The dwarf followed suit, staggering to his feet before muttering a slurred "At dawn then," which sounded more along the lines of "addon tin." The Corporal watched him swagger along as he fished more coins out of his pocket, searching for some booze at the bar.

Eleazar was left in the company of the fidgeting blood elf, the silent wizard, and Feanaro. There was an awkward silence as they looked at each other, glancing from one to the other and back again. It was a long moment before anyone spoke.

"You are a military man," said Feanaro, looking him directly in the eye.

Again, silence from the warrior.

The Night Elf sniffed. "Do you not have a duty to king and country?" he asked knowingly.

"Yes."

"Would it be a correct assumption that you were in fact not ordered to be here by your king?"

"Yes."

"So what you are telling me is that a military man, one of rank no less, has come all the way to Darkshire from duty elsewhere to a seedy tavern, where he heard of a Night Elf, who is me, that needs mercenaries for a certain mission, and that the only reimbursment is money?"

Eleazar's eyes looked to the ground. "Yes."

"And yet, despite forsaking your duty to keep the Alliance safe, despite me being a mercenary which you so obviously despise based upon your attitude, you claim to be a man of honor?" Feanaro's mouth twitched into a barely visible smile. "Then tell me, Sir, why you are here. I will not risk my mission being hampered by Royal or City Guards on our tail."

Eleazar stared at him with his piercing grey eyes. There was so much that Eleazar had to say, and so much that he had to confess and get off of his chest. The burden of his sins and guilt was enough to crush him. He wanted to vent his rage against himself, his Army superiors, and against this arrogant mercenary captain that sat with a smirk on his face, who knew nothing of the trials and burdens Eleazar had to go through. His eyes blazed with fury of memories past, and the Night Elf's perception.

"If I told you, Feanaro," he said cooly, "you might kill me. You have had my word that I am in; that shall be sufficient for now. I am a man of honor. That is all you shall know. Good night, mercenary."

With that, Corporal Eleazar stood up stiffly and retired to his chambers.

[Shanda]

(OOC: just a small one, jondar my char isnt at the inn anymore and I never sat at their table... I will join up with ya sooner or later but not atm, so non of you knows anything about me.)

[Jondar]

((OOC Ahh, I see, I see. Well, fortunately there was no major interaction between the two of us. :) Everyone ignore him sitting there in my story, then.))

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn
*****************

Moments passed like if they were years, in the Official's presence. He was quick to uncover his intents of having heard, that a mercenary is wanted for some business... A military official as mercenary - something hard to understand, even by Blood Elven minds - well, at least Elythriande thought it somewhat... disturbing.

He greeted all the company with usual military salutations, and that reminded the young Sin'dorei fellow of his years, long ago, within the alliance corps, Silvermoon division. "those were the nice days - but boring, either - no battles, just drinking away the time... But there were none of the untrustworthy humans within that army, even then.. It was fully recruited from natives..."

When it came the General facing Elythriande, there was an uncomfortable pause. a Blood Elf would never trust a human, especially if it's a member of the Army. The pain of being abandoned by the Alliance, and even betrayed by the humans, all was too recent to forget so easily...

So they just gazed upon eachother, while the general apparently wished nothing else to greet the High Elven member, yet his intents met fierce resistance in Elythriande's eyes. So he just abandoned his gaze, and turned to others swiftly.

Just as he received a single confirmatory word from the Night Elf, he saluted 'in honour', and left for his quarter. the young Blood Elf looked out of the window for a minute: it was powerfully dark, proclaiming that the time for sleep is getting close...

[Grysham]

<OOC: Oh, by the by if you talk with Feanaro he always remains stoic. He doesn't smile or frown or show his emotions. His voice is soft and even, even if the situation is tense. Isn't he a sexy Elf?>

Feanaro Serona
##########

As the rest of the party left for the night and the taverns patrons started to dwindle, Feanaro sat back and assessed those who had answered his summons. In all honesty, Feanaro had not been expecting as many as the few who had arrived, despite the good intentions and connections of his friend Cori, a bard and messenger for the alliance. He had made no mention of rewards or explanations of the task at hand, deliberately to draw a different type of mercenary. One driven by curiosity, rather than simple greed.

Talk in the bar began to quiten, groups falling from their revalry to gruff farewells or muttered conversations. Tankards were filled with less frequency and the thud of a mead filled mug on table top came less often as the light from outside filtered from dull purple to midnight black. The meager light in the tavern offered a dull setting for those remaining, illuminating little but the way out or the stairs to the rooms above.

The pendants had been replaced in the pouch hidden in his old cloak, still in good condition and shining with a dark shine to its surface. If looked at in the right way, it still appeared to be the hide of a beast in slumber, its rest could be disturbed all to easily. The Elf pulled it tighter around his shoulders in the chill that night brought with it. The orb still sat in his hands, his eyes still watched its darkned surface.

He looked up as a chair was scraped back from the other side of the table and the dark skinned, wrinkled Gnome sat. His large eyes staired through thin rimmed glasses and the ever prescent pipe now sat smouldering in a hand as the other tipped a little more herb into its bowl. The Gnome said nothing, but Feanaro knew that his silence was intentional. The Barkeep had a flaire for the dramatic and knew how to manipulate his audience. It was his calm and powerful demeaner that made the Twisted Nag one of the safest establishments in Darkshire, if frequented by darker patrons.

"What do ya think of em then?" The Gnome croaked, following his question with a pull on his pipe.

Feanaro was quite a moment, pondering the Gnomes interest in his journey, but decided against simply ignoring or pushing away the quite creature.

"Which do you speak of?" Feanaro asked in turn, his soft voice betraying nothing. Feanaro could play the stoic game as well as the pipe smoker opposit.

"Any, each, all." He replied, looking at Feanaro over his bubous nose and smiling "Saite an old Gnomes curiosity."

Feanaro sat silent again, unsure of what to make of the owners line of questioning. Inwardly he shrugged to himself, there was no harm in speaking his mind, even if he seldom did so. Something about the Gnome urged Feanaro to loosen his tongue, to speak frankly like he so seldom did.

"I find each has cause for my curiosity. Each hides behind their facade, each attempting to be something other than what they are. That is, except Oscald..." Feanaro said, his voice carefully level. The Elf felt that even through his regular even tone, the Gnome could pick up what Feanaro was thinking. It unerved him.

The Gnome nodded, sucking on the pipe again. Silence followed for a moment as the waitress began taking last orders and those who had shifts to attend or homes to return to were urged to drink up and be on their way. In the lull of conversation that followed, the Gnome spoke again.

"I'v seen many come, boy, and many go. Yet I'v rarely seen one who draws such paths to himself like a loadstone." He said, puffing again on the pipe. Then, "I don't trust ye', boy, though thats saying little. I'l be havin' me eyes on ye', mark me."

Feanaro simply nodded, feeling much like a dear caught in the gaze of a bear. He had met few he had respected, fewer still he had feared. In this one moment the Gnome had made him feel both.

"Ye' gots a long journey ahead I'd wager. Better be get'in some shut eye, boy. No harm'l come to ye' while your in the Twisted Nag, ye' gots Grizalts word on that." The Gnome finished, pushing the chair back as the last of the patrons filed through the door and out into the night. A final puff on the cigar and then the Gnome turned, his eyes on the coins the waitresse's were counting out on the bar top.

Feanaro sat a moment longer, then rose himself. He realised that throughout the entire conversation, from the Gnomes approach to his departure, Grythic had sat silent beneath the table. Looking down at the Worg, Feanaro noticed that Grythic had backed against Feanaro's chair. His eyes were firmly on the Gnome and its tail sat limply between its legs.

As he climbed the stairs Feanaro felt much the same.

[Grysham]

Chapter 2: The Woods Weepings

Noises not entirely human echo erily back and forth throughout the night. Screeches that may or may not be birds, moans, cries and creakings. The sounds of wildlife arn't unusual here, what are are the sounds they make. Few creatures not equiped to defend themselves survive in the dark woods.

The only noise abscent from the hollow echos in the misty woods as morning broke in Darkshire was birdsong. No merry song or caw greeted the rise of the new sun, no crow signal its rising. Day broke in lightening shades of grey, coils of dark fog that writhed like a leaving thing through the streets slowly retreating back into the Duskwoods from which they came.

The few lamps which remained burning throughout the night were doused by the guards who freshly patroled the early town, stifling back yawns even as their hands nervously clutched at their weapons. Darkshire was never safe, even as day broke and the corpse of a child, arms wraped around her own body as if attempting to hold in her insides, was proof enough of the nights horror.

The guards had already removed her body and were patroling the outskirts of the town. Yet others combed the dark allys and waking streets, looking for signs of the night time assailant. The girl herself was young, little over eight years of age. Long blond hair had run in pigtails down either side of her pale face, and her tomboyish outfit was often seen darting down a side passage or ally as a red face merchant gave chase.

The stalls were safe from her fingers at least.

In the tavern of the Twisted Nag, Grizalt the owner stood in his regular place by the bar, eyes watching the few night shift watchmen who had come for a meal and drink before sleep took them. Used to the horrors of the night, few seemed purturbed by the body of the young girl. Yet one, a young man whose face was clean shaven, sat silently staring at his mug of mead, his eyes vacant and lips pale. Grizalt recognised the look of a new recruit and snorted. He'd harden himself to Darkshire in time. Survival here demanded no less.

It was into this setting that Feanaro, seemingly the first of the group to leave that morning, now found himself. He sat at the same table as the previous night and rolled the orb once again in his hands.

[Shanda]

Name: Tallian Swift
Race: Human
Age: 30
Class: Wizard
\
\
Daybreak had arrived, thus that did not mean anything in Duskwood, it was still dangerous enough for anyone who found himself alone, even in groups you were not safe. Tallian had slept bad the past night, tho sleeping under a pine with a large rot as pillow could possibly disturb anyones sleep. But that was not the reason this time, Tallian had slept in worse places then that, much worse.
No, the forest itself had the slightest hints of a soul filled with shadows and darkness, bonegripping and spineshuddering noises could be heard the whole night, far away, but still much to close..

And it was cold even if Tallian had been awake and up moving for hours now he still could feel the icy freezing cold he had felt when he woke. His wards against dark creatures seemed to have worked as nothing had attacked him or got close enough to disturb his spells.

As the first faint rays of sunlight made its way through the thick black and dimmy forest,Tallian had left his small camp behind him and was now moving towards the mainroad, "bloody hell, he thought "there is only ONE road in these lands.
It was silent as in a grave, no sounds, no wind, just... a feeling of corruption and a small sence of something evil, "this isnt normal, no birds, nothing, just nothing and it was still dark outside, Tallian thought as he slowly made his way through the dim forest.

When he reached the road he took the way that lead away from darkshire, towards a place called "raven hill", he had heard old stories about something hidden under the vast graveyard that was to be found there, and Tallian was eager to find anything that he could learn from, even if it was new ways to fight dark creatures.

"I wonder how the forest could turn into something like this, something pure evil... the only animals he had seen was rabiedwolfs and other..things..which he had seen nowhere els, no whatever has happened I will try to find out, even if I cannot do anything about it perhaps someone els with the knowledge can. Thoughts of curing and mending, filled the mind of Tallian as he strotted along the road, he met noone and nothing, which he did not think about as meeting people was a bad thing for a person like himself.

Time passed and his thougts once again turned abit darker and soon memories of past events that still caust pain had taken over...

[Arinnaya]

As it was getting closer to midnight, many of the newly gathered adventurers have already left for their room: sleeping outside at such a dangerous country wasn't always a wise choice. There were many stories among the villagers, that told about dark, shadowy beings lurking in the dim moonlight: and if it were not enough, the populace had lots of anecdotes about various damned people walking the nightly forest in the grip of the horrible undeath...

Elythriande wasn't afraid of the Undead so much: he has seen times, when sleeping in the middle of the desolate rocks of Outlands was a decent choice, despite the uneasiness from the constantly lingering demons... It was something else, that concened him much more deeply...

So he just walked to the Gnome, near the bar, and, straight as always, asked for a room. The Gnome thought, that he might be coming for a drink, so he began to fill the next tanlard, when the Elven fellow quicly made him stop:

Spare that good drink! What I wish, is to get a room for the night, as the others did! Could you help me?"

The eyes of the Taverkeeper almost glowed with satisfaction:
"There is only one left. You will like it! Here is the key, sir! Just pay that 5 silver coins!!"

Elythriande pushed his left hand deep beneath the ugly white robe, and pulled it out, with some money-pieces, that glittered with metallic light:

"Take this! I normally never allow myself such a luxury, to rent a noble-class room for a single journey... But it's different now.. Just good night to everyone!!"

With these words, he left for the stairy, with the edge of the white cloak pulled behind. It also becam apparent, if one observed him well, that he was actually pulling his left leg a bit behind: Not really lame, but a good eye could notice, that he must have been gravely injured long ago, but with still visible traces...

When he reached the safety of the room, the first thing he did, was to pull something big, long and heavy, from under his cloak, to bar the door with. Only with his blade now fully blocking the entry from uninvited guests, did he remove that shabby cloak... Without packing too many things down, only something heavy, clanking on the floor - it was a shield or like - he laid back on the great, double bed and tried to fall asleep...

But sleep was a rather ungrateful companion this night. He wondered for hours long whether making a contract with a Night Elf was a good choice: It was commonly held, among Blood Elves, at least, that they were the reason for casting the noble Quel'dorei out of the Alliance...
Elythriande wasn't interested at the politics that much, however: he only truely trusted those, whom he knew personally... Finally he gave it up with a yawn, and fell asleep.

He dremed about the endless light blue sky, lush green plants, and beautiful landscape with little houses that he used to call his home... While even an Elf can turn to utterly evil ways, even against his brethren... deep.. within his heart... they still keep a tiny shard of tranquility, that reminds them of the ancient kingdom, and the noble origins of their whole bloodline....


Morning greeted with clouds, fog, and wetness: After he has waken up, Elythriande was quick to assemble his equipment beneath his battered cloak. Only he knew, what he had brought with him... to the adventure!!

[Fayeborn]

Ocald Wildwire
**********

"Master, can't handle this one by yourself?" a small green creature asked Oscald from atop his chest. It peered down at him through small black eyes and smiled a grin full of needle sharp teeth at the gnome. The beast was covered in leatherlike skin that appeared to burn in green flames. It pointed a long talon tipped finger directly in his face then started laughing. The sound more raspy and mechanical than human.

'A demonisis!' he thought to himself and nearly paniced. He bolted upright into a sitting position and the weight from his chest was thrown to the floor.
His eyes snapped open.

He looked around his room. The green-greyish light from the Duskwood dawn outside illuminated the small desk and bedframe occupying the space. On a small wooden stand beside the bed he saw the melted stump of wax where his study candle had burnt out the night before. On the floor lay only the book on "Darkness: taming the shadows" he had been studying as he fell into slumber. He sighed in relief as his heartbeat resumed it's normal rythym.

He swung his legs out from beneath the woolen blanket and grimaced as hit feet (still numbed from sleep) hit the floor. He went over to the wash basin and splashed water on his face. He packed up all his goods and got dressed, preparing to go meet the rest of the company.

This morning he felt older than ever as he went down the steps and nodded at the dark kindred running the establishment. He put some coins up on the counter for his repost. The grey skinned gnome just nodded to Oscald as he eyed the coin and blew a large cloud of smoke from his ever-present pipe.

Oscald shifted the pack on his back and made his way to the same table he was at before. He tried his best to muster a good natured grin for his friend and his beast, but he saw Feanaro was lost in the orb again. He sighed to himself, patted the worg and and waited for his meal, settling into an unusual silence.

[electro]

In the morning, Nacolita was walking around, enjoying nature in it's full glory of the season. The smell of morning dew and the sight of little water tears on the grass almost brought tears to her eyes. What also really did bring tears to her eyes was the darkness of the place. This isn't a nice place to live, unless you're undead. The woods of duskwood where quiet, by means of no birds singing, not even a breeze through the trees their leaves. It was a painful silence that layed over this forest.

Nacolita had gotten a bad feeling about the silence and knew that it would soon be broken.

As she walked on, she started to here sounds in the distance. As she proceeded, the sounds became louder. She saw a hman guard patrolling the road. "Hello, good sir."

He replied with a soft hello

Further communication wasn't there as the guard had to continue his route. So Nacolita began also to go on her way again, in the direction of the sound. She passed an old marker."Welcome to Darkshire" Now she knew why there was so much sound. She stumbled into a village. A village where she didn't want to stay for long. It gave here shivers down her spine.

But nontheless, she would make the best of it. She entered the inn and by surprise, she saw a lot of people. She didn't expect this in this kind of enviroment. But her aaaawwwwh turned into an aaaaaaaah as she saw the bar with a barkeeper behind it. She ordered a drink and looked around the bar to see people sit and stand and talking to eachother. But there where some people who drew her attention.

The table with a human, an elf and another elf. She couldn't avert her eyes of the table where the trio sat and looked at them while she finished her drink.

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn
*****************

It was a cold, and foggy morning, that greeted Drakshire: though the sun was high, nothing of its shape could be found out on the sky: the darkness, as ever, had a great hold over this god-forsaken wilderness of Azeroth...

Elythriande came down the steps, slowly taking one after another, as if he had plenty of time to think all his minute actions over... with his equipment now under his cloak again, giving out a few slight clinking sounds (as if a key) - he was ready for whatever adventure the Night Elf was taking them.

He took the last turn, and arrived down to the bar: Many figures of the last night greeted him back again: The elf, with his wolf, and tiny gnome friend...

He went straight to the organiser of the campaign, even before ordering something to eat, and said:

"Ishera Do!! Good morning, Warchief!!!" -the latter must have been a witty comment, for it sounded like the Orcs call their commander - " I am ready for the task: Just get us going!! If you don't mind, I'l take a few bits of breakfast, and we can be on our way!!" All his words were accompanied with a smile of some sort - his good feeling seemed unbreakable sometimes, even amidst the gravest conditions...

[Fayeborn]

Dedrin Oncelight
###########

Like a pendulum from a gnomish clock it swung slowly in front of his eyes. He stared at it, lost in his meditation.

"Dedrin, are you prepared for this day?" the whispy feminine voice asked him from his inner mind.
"Aye." he answered.
"Have you come any closer to understanding our purpose?" she queried.
"Nay, but Ah've drifted no farther from eht." he replied.
"Very well then. Today I shall show you a sign, for you've remained faithful."

In an instance, all was silent. The iron cross on the blackened beads swung to a stop.

Already dressed and scalp cleanly shaved, Dedrin shifted out of shadowform and joined the rest of the group downstairs.

He eyed them all and nodded at each. He didn't sit as the others did for a meal or for comaderie. He propped himself up against the timbers by the door, fed by his dark union and powered by his own motivations. The mammoth fingers of his right hand toyed with the prayer beads on his belt unconciously.

[Jondar]

Corporal Eleazar
***

His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, unmoving and unblinking. His face looked so... tired. He felt far older than his fourty-four years of age. The creases on his face, which at first were formed from smiling as a young military officer, seemed to stand out like mountains on a plain. They sagged and formed a face that was haunted and ashamed.

Silence hung heavy and oppressive in his upstairs bedroom. It was the deepest black outside his single window, and eerily silent, as if some unseen evil was lurking. He sighed deeply, and slowly sat down on the edge of his bed, with his head in his hands. He smoothed down his ruffled hair, and felt the balding spot on the top. Where have the years gone? he thought sullenly.

He exhaled again, a very sad sound. He thought of himself and his past, and how the paths of his life led him here. He always wondered how things ended up as they did, and why they couldn't have been different. He supposed that was the wrong mentality to have, to always be focused on the why of things; you cannot change the past.

But he dreadfully wished he could.

He sat still for a very long time, unmoving. While he was silently brooding, his eyes caught a glimpse of his sword and armor lying on the floor, already polished and ready for use. The sword was out of its scabbard, and the dull glint of the wax candle on the nightstand reflected off the blade somberly. The flame flickered and danced back and forth, reminding him of some poor soul trying to escape back out into the world.

He stared at it for a long moment. His thoughts retreated, as they always did when he was alone, to the deep caverns of his mind and memories past. Dark memories came to life in the room, haunting him as he recounted all the times he had gone to war, and all the pain he both caused and received. All his trespasses. He recounted all the enemies he had killed, without a second thought. How eager he had been to charge into battle. He closed his eyes as the pain of his deeds came to him. It was not my fault... right?

Eleazar was not a man of faith; the darkness of this world was convincing enough to him to prove that there was no merciful power looming over them in the heavens. But every night he found himself weeping, begging forgiveness for himself for what he had done. He often beseeched the empty night to tell him that his actions were not his fault. But all that consoled him was the endless, deafening silence and darkness. He did not want to be like this anymore - he was so alone in this world.

He sat silently and stoically for many long minutes, searching deeper and deeper into his mind for answers that proved, as usual, to be elusive. He knew what was coming - his nightmare. Every time he lay at night, the nightmare inevitably came to him.

Resigned, Eleazar reclined back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Tell me why this life is how it is. Tell me why there is nothing more... please?

Silence. Eleazar closed his eyes tightly.

The violent memory seized him then, as it did every night - his body convulsed with the pain of recollection, in an attempt at denial, and he curled up on his bed with his arms around his knees, whimpering to himself. The image of his sword came to him vividly, the same one that lay on the floor of his room in the inn, flashing through the morning light, violently tearing through a pregnant orc's shoulder to her belly, cleaving her almost in two. He could see the fear in the woman's eyes, and hear the explicit crack of bone as his blade sliced through flesh and sinew. He remembered her dropping to her knees beforehand and putting her head on the ground in an act of pleading, sobbing in the Orcish language to undoubtedly spare her and her unborn child. He remembered bending down, grabbing her hair violently, wrenching her face up to his, looking into her eyes and executing her. The wailing from the other Orcish women and children around had been unbearable; in his rage, he went around and systematically cut them down like blades of grass as they tried to run away. In the end, twenty-eight orc women and children lay scattered about in the marshes of Theramore, soaked in their own blood and tears. The carnage had left a thick, musty smell and feel to the air around him. He remembered taking a weeping orc-child, the only survivor, who had been clutching her dead mother's corpse desperately, by the collar and pulling her up towards his face. His eyes had blazed at her as she hung helpless, unable to breathe or cry from his grip. "Run, child. Tell the Horde who comes. Tell them of Commander Eleazar. Tell them of my deeds here. Run, or I shall hunt you down, and kill you." He knew she would not understand him, but a wrath such as his would speak for itself.

Abrubtly, everything turned to black.

It was a long while before he woke from his flashback. He was sweating, but shivering from the cold. His arms, back and legs cramped from being in the fetal position for another night. The light outside was grey. Dawn had come upon him.

Eleazar's mind was made up. He got up, rummaged through his pack, and pulled out a pen and parchment and frantically began to write.

Feanaro and the rest-

I am sorry for my actions last night. I had judged you as detestable mercenaries, made up my mind about you all before I got to know you. I hated you from the moment I imagined you, without justification. I took it out on you in my demeanor and my attitude. For that, and for my harsh words, I apologize. I know nothing about you or your character as a Night Elf, and I spoke out of anger.

You wished to know my history, who I was, and why I was here.

As you know, I am not a young man. In fact, I am fourty-four years old, and have been in the service of the Stormwind Army since I was sixteen years old - that is twenty-eight years of service. Never before have I abandoned my duty, but here I am. As you guessed, I was not ordered to be here. So why would I abandon my post?

But first, you must understand. You may be wondering why I, in my twenty-eight years of service, have only the rank of a Corporal, which is little better than a private. Things were not always this way.

For the first twenty-five years of my service, I excelled at everything I did. I was known to be a loyal, dutiful man who had devoted himself over to the cause of the Alliance. I had graduated from the Stormwind Military Academy, which allowed me to enter the Service as a Sergeant. Quickly I rose up in the ranks as I proved myself to be a master tactician and courageous soldier.

Long story short, three years ago, I was promoted to Commander. This, if you are not aware, if an incredibly distinguished position. My nickname was the Bull, for the way I blew through ranks in the Army, and for the way I cut through the Horde in battle. Never before had someone advanced as quick as I had. Despite my rapid ascension and success, which many men envied, I had many loyal friends to whom I owed much. I have many memories with them, smiling and drowning our troubles in a tankard of ale in a rowdy tavern. Towards the end of that year, I was considered promotion to a position of Marshal, and would have taken the place of the current Stormwind Royal Guard Captain. But this did not happen. I shall tell you the story of my failures, and why things are as they are now.

Under my command a few years back was a certain knight named Pater. He was a Paladin, and a valiant man. He had a family - a wife and eight children. At the time, we were stationed in Theramore Isle, helping oversee the defense of the city. I was the co-leader in charge there. It was a fine time; for the longest period, no Horde party dared to attack us. Myself and my co-leader's defensibility was known even amongst the Horde to be superb. Pater's family and I became very close during this time of shaky peace. He had proven his worth on the battlefield, and was a man of great character and vision. He had the potential to go incredibly far as a military man, and I planned to help him in whatever ways I could. He became a dear friend even though I severely outranked him. He was like a little brother to me. His wife and children (Will, Pete, Eli, Cora, Stevenard, Kali, Emma and Sara) had known me as "Uncle Eleazar," and Pater granted me the title of God-father to his children. Eveline his wife was an incredible friend, and our relationship was entirely pure. They really were the family I never had.

This was my downfall. In the Army, if you are not aware, to get too close to your men is a fatal mistake. You cannot order a man whom you love to march to his death.

One morning, Eveline and the children went out to the beach, just outside the walls and towers of Theramore, to fish. All of them went. The children loved fishing - the boys particularly enjoyed cleaning them, and the girls loved to learn how to fry them. Pater was away in Tanaris at the time on an errand I sent him to deliver a letter to an old friend who was passing through. I sent with Eveline and the children a contingent of thirty-five blades; I was going to take no chances with the family I loved like my own.

The soldiers that went were good men, and attentive. But they had no chance to stand up to what was waiting for them.

A stealth party of the various races of the Horde were patrolling the outskirts of the city walls, killing what they could in silence. A raid party had finally formed against us. There were fifty in number on the beach, and another group of one hundred twenty were approaching the main gates of Theramore. At the time, I was out walking the streets, and knew of none of this until I heard the cries of dying men.

To be brief, we repelled the main force after many long hours of bloody fighting. Celebration had started. It was not until later that afternoon that the captain I had sent with Eveline came back to me, bloodied and wounded. I remember his words, as he stood weeping and shaking before me, battered and bruised.

"Sir, they are dead... all of the children. And Eveline. She is gone. Captured."

I looked at the captain and remembered thinking of how much I trusted him - I gave my only treasure in this life to him for safekeeping, and he failed me. I did not take into consideration that his men bravely fought and died for the cause - all thrity-five were dead, and by some miracle this man had dragged himself to me, on the verge of death. They had killed fourty-three of the fifty rogues.

It didn't matter at the time, though. I lost the only thing I truly loved. I remember beating this man with my fists so fiercely that his face caved in unrecognizably; my bodyguards had to pull me off of him. He had been a loyal captain, who always did his duty as required. He knew how much I loved that family.

A rage that I have never known came over me then. Vengeance, fury and wrath blinded me.

I went to the beach site to investigate. Mercifully, the dead bodies were taken to be buried by the time I got there. A lone orc, bleeding from multiple wounds, gasped as I put my foot on his neck. He was obviously the captain because he spoke Common; it was a rare thing amongst the Horde. He had to be important. I tortured him until he confessed that there was a campsite of innocents nearby to the west, awaiting the return of the assailants. I put my blade through his throat without hesitation, called for my horse, and went off to find the camp. Sure enough, it was there, and I came upon the inhabitants - women and children - with the violence of a dragon. I killed twenty-eight innocent victims; some were pregnant women. I killed one for each of my years as a military man. I remember how they screamed, and how they tried to run away. I remember how some of them gasped in pain and fear after I cut them down, and slowly bled to death. Gods forgive me, I remember the children clutching their mother's skirts as I cut both of them down together without mercy. I sent one of the children to warn the Horde of what happened. I don't think she understood me, naturally; but she certainly ran like she did. Undoubtedly, one of the monsters in the marshes of Theramore had an easy dinner that evening.

I stood at the slaughter grounds for a long time afterwards, staring at the carnage. To the passerby, I must've looked like an ancient monolith, unmoving through the entire night. I watched as flies and other bugs accumulated over the broken bodies.

I dragged myself back to Theramore the next day, my rage exhausted.

Pater was waiting for me.

I explained to him what happened, how his family had died. I showed him the bodies of the family that he loved so dearly. He wept as he clutched those he could in his arms, and stared at me with hollow eyes. "They are dead, but.. but I am here. I am alive... and my w-wife and... and my children have been slaughtered. Oh, Light, why did you send me away? I could have healed them - resurrected them!"

I had no words for him. I kneeled to the ground, took off my ornate golden chestplate, handed him my sword, and told him to strike me dead for my failure to protect them as my own children.

He took the sword from my hands, weeping, and struck me hard at the neck. If you have seen the scar from my neck to my breast, you will see the evidence.

But he healed me afterwards; he was a Paladin through and through. When I woke up, he was sobbing over me, and told me that he could not bear to lose another loved one in a blind rage. I will never forget that.

Pater is dead now; he commited suicide in his grief. This is because of me.

Later that week, Grand Marshal Beawyn had heard of my dishonor and shameful actions. She came over to Theramore herself, flogged me in front of the town, and had me stripped of my rank. "Twenty eight dead innocents," she said. "All by your hand alone. They might be Horde, but they posed no threat to us. I would have expected that from the Forsaken, but from you, Eleazar..." We had been friends in our earlier years, and I noticed how she looked at me with eyes that hinted at a personal betrayal. She was an honorable woman. She mercifully let me stay in the army, but told me I would never again be an officer. Sergeant would be the highest rank I could achieve.

I fought for the Army again after this, as you can see by my rank as Corporal. But the shame I cannot bear; you should hear the rumors that circulate about me. Men fear me, shun me; young officers sometimes spit and mock me. They say things about me murdering children, how I would not think twice to cross them and kill their families. I wish I could say they were lying. I could not take it anymore. So I ran, thinking that I do not deserve to be among the ranks of the Alliance.

So I came here, Feanaro and friends, onto this journey, hoping to somehow get some last measure of honor. I cannot take it any longer. My only wish is to end it, end this life and this misery that I call myself. I was hoping that maybe on this journey I would die; but I know my skills with a sword. Without pride or arrogance, I can tell you that I am a great warrior. Only my own blade can be the death of me. But I do not wish to live to fight another day. I cannot take it one more moment.

I know I gave you my word that I would join you. But I cannot. I cannot bear to see these memories flash in my mind, night after night.

I have died with a broken promise, I know; I have forsaken my honor. Forgive me, friends.

I have heard it said that in this great future, you cannot forget your past. Please, if there is one thing you would do for me - do not forget my past, who I was. I was a powerful, loving man. All this was a twisted mistake, one that was not supposed to happen. You owe me nothing, I know - I just beseech you, after knowing who I was and what I have done, grant me this small mercy.

-Eleazar, the coward.

The grey light from a Darkshire morning filtered in through the fogged window in an upstairs bedroom in the Twisted Nag Inn. Nothing stirred in this particular room. There was a pile of personal belongings in the corner, which included plain plate-mail armor and a thick leather backsack. Upon the pack was a long, hastily scribbled note in spidery handwriting. It looked as if it was written hastily.

On the floor of the room sat a man, who was named Eleazar; on his left forearm it looked as if he had drawn the Fist of the Commander, signifying said rank in the Army of the Alliance. He was slumped over in a heap in a pool of blood, with a common, unremarkable sword jutting out of his back. His right arm held the pommel, which he had driven through his belly. His face had a look on it that was mixed between relief, regret, and incredible grief. Never again did the Corporal swing that sword.

**

OOC - Well... I just realized that I will be headed out of the country soon, and so I will not be able to go all that far into the story. Unfortunate as it is, I decided to bail while I still havent played any major part in the story. Thats the end of him. Long post, I know.. figured I would keep the streak up. Hah. Have fun guys, I wish I would have been able to stick the whole way through the story! If you want to incorporate this, Grysham, just send Feanaro to check on him in the morning, as he does not come out to meet you. You'll find him dead, and the note in the corner. Have fun.

[Grysham]

Feanaro Serona
##########

As the party members gathered at his table, one by one, Feanaro was himself lost once more to the orb and its dark surface. Through his mind ran what would come from the days ahead, the final answers to mysteries that had plagued him these many years. He sat and waited for the last member, the Human of last night.

Time passed as the others spoke and drank, eyes from the previous night were on them, perhaps awaiting some spectacle or awaiting some action from the mixed members he had gathered. They were disapointed if this was so, the Dwarf and High Elf sat mostly in silence while Oslcald sat happily patting Grythic. The worg seemed ill at ease and cast furtive glances at the stairs by their table, something unerving the beast.

After a small time Feanaro stood, clutching his weapons pommel in his hand, his cloak falling neatly around him. His eyes strayed to the Gnome by the Bartop, who nodded at him once then returned to his pipe and his bar. Oscald looked up at him as he rose, speaking chirply, his voice almost joval.

"Time to be off eh, Feanaro? Golumphings and destinotions galore I'd wager." He said, standing quickly. The others at the table followed suit, grabbing their own possetions and turning towards the door of the tavern. Feanaro silently began to move across the room, skirting the table of the guards who sat forlornly staring into mugs and muttering quitely between themselves.

Oscald, seemingly reminded by the table of guards, turned to Feanaro while tugging on his cloak to get his attention. "My my, I almost forgot in my musumptuings. What about that fellow last night?" He said, turning back towards the stairs.

Feanaro stopped while the others turned to look at him. The Dwarf snorted and crossed his arms "Bah, trust to a bloody hu'man tay be late."

"If the Human wishes to come, he can catch up. He knows which way we travel." Feanaro said quitely, turning his back on the stairs "If you are concerned we will be following the road south. Check on him."

Despite his words, Feanaro was mildly concerned about the Human. He had sensed that the guard was deeply troubled, but anothers concerns were not his own. Whatever was haunting Eleazar he would have to overcome alone.

[Arinnaya]

The leader, Feanaro, finally gathered his 'men': there were four sitting around the table: it was a gaudy company, with no two member being the same: The leading Night Elf, with the wolf under the table, a gnime engineer, as it seemed, a dwarf, with his thoughts rather kept around himself, despite being a priest, and, finally Elythriande, the Blood Elf, still in disguise... just looking for adventure, dispising dangers and troubles...

The young Blood Elf was sitting by the table, eating his breakfast eagerly: who knows, if they will have enough food supplies for the several days' worth of adventure... Like the dwarf, he was rather unconcerned about others' feelings, or thoughts: at least, on the surface...

He was not even caring about the human general not applying for the offered work: but as Feanaro mentioned it, that made even Elythriande wonder about that General: "Well, at least more loot wil remain as my share.. But it's still troubling that he hasn't arrived yet.. so unusual: I hope nothing bad happened to him..."

Although the Sin'dorei fellow was sometimes straightforwardly careless about others, Elythriande never harboured any direct enmity and malice as well... Mutual distrust often earns deep-rooting hatred, its a truth universal, yet our Blood Elf has never turned to those evil ways, in truth...

[Shanda]

Name: Tallian Swift
Race: Human
Age: 30
Class: Wizard
\
\
"oh great! trees everywhere, I guess that shortcut was a bad idea after all, Tallian thought as he traveled deeper and deeper into the woods. He had tried to remember some of the old maps on which he had look opon before his "adventure" started, he thought he had found a small trail that would lead towards the cemetary. The road was safe but it would have taken him days to reach his destination, so he had taken a small risk, and failed as it seemed right now.

only hours had passed since he woke and on any other place the sun would shine and birds would sing, but not here, darkness had crept back as he got deeper into the forest, it was silent, a silence spawned by evil more then natural causes. He had seen noone and nothing. But he had heard alot more, growling, screams, shrieking sounds and spineshuddering howls and all of them was unfriendly.

"oh dear did I do the right thing leaving the road, He thought. But nothing was close to him, he had spun silkthin webs of magic that surrounded him and everything in a 400 yards radius, so he would know if something got to close.
No he was far from terrified and not even close to scared, he was a Wizard and could take care of himself, besides wolfes was among the weakest enemys he could think of so his liofe was not in danger, atleast he hoped so

Suddenly a warning flashed in his mind, something or someone had passed the border of his web, no noth something many somethings and they got closer. Tallian himself was standing in the middle of an open area, not a big one but big enough. "closer, magic energies swirrled around his hands, "closer, his eyes burned with an intense inner fire, "closer!, magic now swirreld around him burning like a torch in the darkness, it had gone a long time since he had the time to summon powers this mighty, and whatever stepped out from the darkness just outside his glowing aura would not stand a chance.

Then he could hear them, and he knew that instantly that his attackers were not wolves, it was something els, the sound of iron against the leafefilled ground came to his ears, sounds of twigs cracking and moaning voices soon fileld the air. Skeletons, and maybe even zombies, tallian was not surprised, it was Duskwood afterall, but through the thick fog of magic that now filled his very soul and being he did not feel anything, just the energies at his command filled his thoughts.

The first undead monsters stepped out into the light, Tallian was ready, a raging fire erupted from the palmes of his hands, and the skeletons burned like dry paper, more of them came and soon a flood of unholy creatures advanced against the lone mage.
But to no vain, a gigantic explosion which in an instant turned into a burning shockwave swept through lines of skeletons and wiped them out, zombies was ripped apart and twitching limbs rained down opon the forestfloor.
It was over in mere seconds, that of his attackers tha was not simply gone, lay in piles around the glade.

Tallian collapsed, he had drained himself, the powers he had summoned had been to much for him to handle and now he had none left. completly exausted he stumbled up on his feet and in under a big tree, he had no strengt to place out his wards but the thought never crossed his mind as unconsiousness took over.

It was silnt again... and darkness crept back to regain what territory it had lost. soon evevrything was like it used to be, nothing ever changed in the dark forests of the world.

[Arinnaya]

After a few minutes gone, Elythriande was still chewing on the few left-over bits of his breakfast, mainly being a Strider Omelette, with some good Stormwind bread. With his ears moving rythmically up and down, he raised his head agian, just to better observe his companions. A Night Elf, a Dwarf, a diminutive Gnome... He hasn't ever teamed up with such fellows in his whole life - though it wasn't that long, either, we must admit it...

With feeding done, Elythriande pushed the empty plate aside, brushed his mouth once, but firm with his right hand, and opened his mouth once again:
" Ok, commander! Ready to go!!" - and even stood up from the table. But when turning around, he noticed another new face in the tavern.. This time, a really pleasing one - it was a young Night Elven girl, dressed in some shabby leather, full of leaves and twigs...

"Hey!? Looky here, aren't we taking a girl along, by the way?? - Comments like these were never meant serious, though, even if it sounded like wooing...-he knew he would never appease Night Elven girls, nor he intended to do it seriously...

[electro]

Nacolita, still drinking a bit, saw that the blood elf had his eye on her. It had probably something to do with the person he was talking with a minute ago. Thoughts ran through her mind: Why was he looking at her?; Would she speak to him? She felt something deep inside of her, in the area of the chest. It felt different, but somewhat familiar. Strange but good. She felt like her heart skipped several beats.

She coulnd't keep her eyes of him. It was the colour of the skin that held her in that grip. She couldn't move, as if under an ice block spell.

Trying to get a hold of herself, she tried to order another drink. Her mouth opened with no air and not a single sound coming out. Her dark purple skin started to look a little red-ish around her cheeks. She could finally look away when the younghest barkeeper made a glass fall on the ground with a loud shattering sound. She jumped about a meter up, and about 2 meters away from the bar. She practically fell. As quick as her reflexes were, she could barely grab her staff and hold herself up. A little shaking in her legs but she was ok. Her face had a surprised, frightened look.

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn
***************

As the young Night Elven girl looked upon him... so steadily...

He sat back to the table, to his newfound companions discussing over the day's quest. Meanwhile, something unexplainable forced him to turn around and take another glance towards the bar..... and another...: the dark-skinned girl was still looking at him, as if not having moved even a bit... Really disturbing, but not only to the heart, but also to the brain...
His face, smiling in the moments before, has turned serious again...

Not as if the Girl weren't pleasing enough: love is a rare guest when someone has much more serious problems attending to... Some unfamiliar feeelings gripped him again: after all, all Dark Ones see only the corruption, and their own twisted image, when looking upon their "brethren"... Even the High Elves are outcasts, not talking about those, who embraced an even darker path... "What if she got a slight hint of my true identity - and call the guards?" - but these thoughts were quickly dismissed when he saw her falling down...

A hearty laugh broke out of Elythriande, as he saw the elven woman fall with some clumsy movements... Nevertheless, he lended his own hand to the girl, lying on the floor:
"Please, allow me to help! Even if you wouldn't accept 'normally'!"

[electro]

Nacolita
******

Nacolita was surprised that the blood elf lended her a hand, but was also happy he did stick out his hand. She grabbed his hand and was helped up again. Then she quickly fixed her "clothes" and stared at the blood elf. She smiled, although she didn't told her face to do that. "By Elune, thank you, kind man. I... I... I am Nacolita, thank you so much for helping me of that cold floor. Can I know the name of the person who helped me up? I would really li..."

Her colour started to shift again, and she fainted into his arms. Her head was spinning, and it went all black before her eyes. Her skin started to feel cold, and looked very pale. It almost shifted to a somewhat white colour and she started to breath very heavily. Her pendant started glowing bright green.

The barkeeper saw it all happening and came with a warm wet cloth to heat her forehead as it was icecold. The blood elf was supporting her head while the barkeeper went to get a bag of grain to put her head on for that extra levitated support under her neck.

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn
***************

The Elven girl stood up, with the help offered, but something about her didn't seem right. She started introducing herself, or at least attepted to:

"By Elune, thank you, kind man. I... I... I am Nacolita, thank you so much for helping me of that cold floor. Can I know the name of the person who helped me up? I would really li..."

But she seemed as if seriously ill, or been struck by a curse of some sort, for she fainted right into the unexpecting arms of Elythriande...

"Hey, you are even heavier, than I thought... More, when I had..." - but he closed his mouth before anyone could learn more details about whom or what he was referring to - he learned to be secretive along the long years of adventure.

"Quickly, Gnome, bring some water for the lady!" He shouted at the gnomish owner, even though he was running on his little legs as fast as he could.
Some of the guests around were also shocked by the turn of events. But all acted rather as spectators in the circus, than to act at all...

As the young Blood Elf was holding the Night Elven head, something struck at his eyes: An unusually bright, glowing pendant of the unconscious lady, still on her neck.
The magical piece nearly mesmerised him: he just eyed the stone, with his eyes regaining their natural, eerie greenish glow for a moment...
It took several moments before he could turn his look away from the little jewel: to his luck, the Gnome was slow enough, that it happened,
before the tavernkeeper could arrive with the wet clothes, and other equipment, to 'resurrect' her... Fortunately no one noticed that little play, what the draw of a magically charged item could elicit on Elythriande...

The Elven Girl raised up finally, carrying still fuzzy memories of the moments before, but ready for the answer, certainly.

"I am...- he began, but from the corner of his eye he saw the guard watching from the door - it was the same guard as yesterday... "My identity is really unimportant, I am working for a Night Elven boss sitting at the corner-table. Maybe.. if you are interested at our business, it would be better to ask him, instead of me!"

The smile completely disappeared from his face, as he was leading her towards Feanaro and the others...

[electro]

The glowing of the necklace faded as she regained consciousness."What happened?" she asked, but no answer was given to her as she heard a voice from afar speaking to her. "My identity is really unimportant, I am working for a Night Elven boss sitting at the corner-table. Maybe.. if you are interested at our business, it would be better to ask him, instead of me!" as the sentence was getting longer, the voice was appearing to be closing on her but actuallyt it was the blood elf next to her who spoke. Now that her hearing was fine again, she went to see the night elf he was talking about. Still a bit light in the head and with heavy but weak legs she tried to gain meter per meter to the table where the night elf was seated. Around teh table there were some other people, but she had only interrests in the night elf and the blood elf.

"Ishnu'alahn, dear brethren. My name is Nacolita, I have come to ask you something. I heard the blood elf talk about somekind of quest. Is it possible to join you?" she asked in a weak, raw voice and still looking a bit pale. "Or would it be possible just to stay with you for a while?" She felt her legs getting weaker again and quickly took a chair to hold on to and gently taking a seat. She even wanted to introduce her further but again she opened her mouth but only air came out. So she just sat there with no voice and probably none who could understand her doings as she tried to point out something. She signed the bartender and tried to order a drink while still "under the effects of a silence spell"(unable to say a word).

[Shanda]

Name: Tallian Swift
Race: Human
Age: 30
Class: Wizard
\
\
Tallian woke abruptly from his deep slumber by the sound of a load crash.
He stumbled to his feet, energies alreasy filling his body and mind, but then he saw the tree that had fallen over it was blackened as if something had burned it so much that it could no longer stand upright.
for a brief moment Tallian wondered why, then the memories can crushing back, zombies, skeletons, fire, alot of fire, he looked around the glade and the only color that met his eyes was black.

The firestorm he had summoned some hors ago had completly and utterly destroyed almost the whole glade and the nearby woods, trees had collapsed, the soil itself was burnt, not only the grass on top.
Of the zombies and skeletons only bones was left, the meat that his fire had not consumed wild animals had taken care of.
And then it was the stench, burnt flesh and other more horribly things was filling the air like a thick smoke, there was smoke to of course, but the fire had atleast not raged on so only the closest regions near glade had been damaged.

Tallian turned away holding a hand over hos mouth and nose, he could not linger here, it was far to dangerous... evil attracts evil that was what hes master always told him... evil attracts evil..

[Fayeborn]

Dedrin Oncelight
##########

Dedrin watched the party half in the inn and half out. From the hard wood planks of the front walkway he observed the gnome pull out a great golden gear from his satchel and speak to it a word or two in a magic tongue. The gear seemed to shift in his hands. From the center a long mechanical shaft protruded from it's surface. Oscald laid it on the packed earth. The two tubes began to bend and flex at joints unseen until they stood upright on the ground. Another large metal arm began to emerge from somewhere within the gear and stretched out towards the sky. Pushing itself slightly forward it opened up and all manor of contraptions and devices begans pushing themselves outward and together. Within seconds the once golden gear was hidden inside a device that mooled like a mechanical plainstrider, hissing and popping with whirly whatnots and gizmos galore. He watched Oscald hop on it with a smile on his face. The dwarf just shook his head. He may never understand gnomes, or anyone else for that matter.

He took the pouches from his belt and fastened them lengthwise along the same leather strap and fastened it securely around his left shoulder and neck. The iron prayer beads now dangled as a necklace around his stout and stalwart frame. He was set in this fashion to run for many hours if needed. He supposed he could run days if he had to. Dedrin was in excellent shape. Of course, no dwarf would prefer to run for days.

As the group began to get closer, he took a short stubby candle from a pocket in his robes. He placed it in the center of his large hand and raised it above his chest level.

"An offerin' fer yer blessin's, Lady." For a second a shadow gathered around the candletop and the wick burst into darkness. The whole candle was instantly consumed, and the only thing left in his hand was a blackened circle.

A purple-white light gleamed off everyone gathering and their animals. As quickly as it appeared, it faded away. Everyone around felt the prayer of fortitude and looked invigorated and healthy. Dedrin nodded. He took his place by the gnome to show his readiness.

Feanaro talked softly and briefly with the newest edition of the group as he adjusted his own packweight ever so slightly. He pointed to the south.

The whole town seemed to quiet as if anticipating his soft spokeness;
"That's the road we follow. Keep up at all costs."
He took to the packed dirt path with long graceful strides, and his large beast loped along side of him.

Everyone else followed along.
This was the beginning.

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn
****************

As the young Night Elf has begun the negotiations with Feanaro, the Blood Elf walked outside the inn, with swift steps. He pulled his simple white cloak tighter about his body once again, as he prepared for the departure. Outside, there was the Gnome and the Dwarf standing, already waiting unpatiently.

As he looked upwards, the sky was barely visible, a thick mist covering all the treetops, and the air was filled with vapour. Yet these unfavourable signs did nothing to extinguish the Sin'dorei fellow's adventuring lust. Already having consumed a considerable breakfast, his mood was unbreakably good. Soon, the Blood elven warror begun humming a simple tune. Parts of an old song, maybe irritating for the others, but Elythriande did not care about it at all.

The gnome, beside him, has thrown some kind of 'instant-device' out of his pocket, that has formed to a complete riding machine in seconds. The Gnomes were crazy-enough race in all their business, so nothing could really surprise Elythriande about them. The dwarf, on the other hand, was performing some kind of prayer-ritual. Euphemistically said, he was 'unskilled' in matters of religion and faith (he did not care much about deities)... But he has already seen Arinnaya praying many times, so nothing unexpected happened with the Dwarf again, either. Elythriande checked something with his both hands, under the cloak. It it always unexpectedly strange to see a warrior without weapon, armor or shield, and this little, uncoscious move has shown a hint, where the missing items were supposed to be...

With Feanaro and Nacolita having struck some kind of deal about the adventure - Elythriande did not hear a word, as he was outside - they finally stood up, and took the their way outwards .

The party has marched across the forest for an hour at least, without seeing any sign of life . They left the road after the first crossing, taking a steep turn to the south, or at least it seem, that was to the south. the signpost at the crossing was the very last certain point they could see...

After walking silently for at least an hour (or was it two?), Elythriande has become annoyed, murmuring something half-loudly:

" These trees look exactly like those we have seen since an hour ago.... I hope at least one of you know where we are going!! "

[electro]

" These trees look exactly like those we have seen since an hour ago.... I hope at least one of you know where we are going!! " Elythriande cried out. Nacolita jumped as he surprised her with this cry. Her nerves where really tensed in his presence. She would scare from the simplest of things in his surroundings, as she normally had no fear of sudden surprises. She mumbled: "I think that with a moment of concentration I can locate us by the position of the wind." So she sat down, closed her eyes and tried to understand the wind. Her sences stood sharp as she heard the howling wind cut right through her. This was a very unpleasant feeling and the wind wasn't telling her anything, it was just playing with her and her sences. This was a very unnatural place, a cold place and not a single ray of sunshine. Again, a shiver came down her spine as she felt something in the distance, a call, a cry for help. Unfortunatly she couldn't feel from which direction it came.

She listened again, but it had no effect. The wind left and it was quiet in this 'forest'. Too quiet for her, for a forest and specially for nature. Nothing could be this quiet, NOTHING. This forest had a very negative effect on the strenght of Nacolita. Fear overcame her as they walked a bit further and she grabbed Elythriande by his hand. She held it so tight that it was impossible for him to pull it away and releasing it from her grip.

Once again, the wind came. This time it held the cry of several persons. "Di... Did you hear that?" she stambled as she shivered over her entire body. "What is that?"

[Arinnaya]

The further the little troop marched into the depths of the forest, the darker it became. Feanaro went as first, showing the way for others, followed up by Oscald, the gnome, on his super-giro-mechanical-steam-ostrich. The elven girl came next, the dwarf marching beside her, with the expression of indifference on his face, helding his prayer beads with a strong grasp in his hand. Elythriande was the one who closed the row, constantly being followed by the unpleasant glances of Nacolita.

A sight of a cleansing greeted them all, but it was dark and cloudy, the outline of bushes around the meadow was barely visible. Cold winds have begun to blow, and this made even the courageous adventurers shrivel and halt, as they cuddled together instinctively. The unnerving silence was broken by the rattling of bushes. All of sudden a strange creature - half wolf, half man - spung from the undestrorey of the forest, and yelled with a terrifying growl, echoing through the lands!

The shout of Fenaro warned the party:

"Worgen! Cover yourselves!"

Indeed, in a matter of an instant, as they looked around, they were all surrounded by a large pack of bloodthirsty beasts, charging at them on four feet, from every possible angle.

Grythic has already rushed into combat against other 'wolves', and Dedrin began to pray, while Elythriande was still standing on his plot. He swiftly pulled out two large, red steel gauntlets, apparently from nowhere, and attached them on his arms, one after another, with calm, and accurate movements. Meanwhile the others were ready to fight for life-and death, he just hit a taunting voice:

"So, pityful beasts, attack me, if you dare!!!"

Yet no one of the worgen appeared to aim at him - for that moment.

[Grysham]

Feanaro narrowed his eyes at the approaching beasts, his hand already on the hilt of his blade, easing it from its sheath. Grythic had already charge headlong into the creatures midsts, snarling and snapping at the nearest before feinting back on himself and bringing an unsuspecting Worg down. Teeth crunched and dark blood seeped into the earth.

First blood had been drawn.

The group quickly broke apart, each member fighting an individual battle against the surrounding pack. Feanaro stuck towards the centre and watched his group branch out arround him erratically, each paying little attention to the other. Such was the ways of mercenarys to hold no ties to eachother.

The Dwarf had already called on whatever gods he prayed to, a dark aura blooming around his feet that withered what little living foilage lay around his feet. His fist clenched around prayer beads which now glowed with an odd light and he stood feet planted while a Worg leapt at him from ahead. The Dwarf let out a harsh laugh as his body swung round and smashed the beads down on the back of the Worgs head. The crunch of bones was audiable even to Feanaro and the beast feel mortally wounded while the Priest then turned to the next creature.

Around from him the High Elf swung a blade as several pack Worgs approached. These seemed to work together in a cunning attack, darting bites at the elf while two others flanked and attempted to find an oppening in the whirling blades of defence.

As the front Worg lept the two others went in low simultaniously, each aiming to rip out his calves. The Elf sneered as his head turned, catching sight of the other Worgs. He lept upwards, planting a foot on one of the Worgs and kicking himself over the other. As he sailed over the blade whirled down and the creatures head fell with a wet thud to the ground.

Still Feanaro stood in the centre and simply watched in silence while the others performed. More than anything he needed to know what ability the others possed and to gage what strengths his party held, though his hand held the hilt of his blade ready never the less.

[Arinnaya]

It took only an instant before the peaceful clearing turned into a blood-tingled battlefield. The attack was so sudden, no one was prepared, and the poor adventurers - with their back turned to eachother - fought for their very lives, against waves of the incoming ferotious creatures, that ambushed frome every direction...

Oscald, the gnome dispatched his super-giro-mechanical-steam ostrich, about as fast, as it could have been summoned: when it all reduced to a golden gear, he picked it up, and threw into his sachel. Right in the next moment, his swift hands were summoning a fiery globe of pure flames, that was thrown at one of the incoming beasts. It cried out of pain, as the fire ignited his fur, but even heavily wounded and ablaze, it attempted a bite on that one, who was standing closest: Elythriande.

The young Sin'dorei fellow looked to the battle with unexpectedly cold blood. He did not even aimed to equip himself before it came to real bloodshed...

As the wolf-man lowered his head, to snap the legs of the elf, all he received was a crushing kick by the armored boots of the Blood Elf. One moment, and his corpse was just another among the others fallen by Feanaro's arrows. It has likely not noticed, that the white cloak, hiding all his body, was not a weak byfarer's cover. It was serving a purpose...different...

Time has come for Elythriande, to to unleash his full might against the worgen. This moment, in the place, where one has falle, two of them aimed at him, grinding their teeth, while aiming at his legs. With a quick move, he dropped his cloak to the ground, revealing his equipment.. and his true identity with it...

His upper body was covered in a mighty, red plate mail. His shoulders bore pauldrons ornated with golden dragonhawk wings, though one of these were broken off - showing that alone his armour could tell long stories itself. On his waist, there was a red-and golden plated girdle, with some kind of glowing rune on it. No doubt, that his legs were protected with heavy mail, but they were all covered by some traditional red-and-white kilt, reaching down to the earthen ground. On his back, there was a long, and slender shield, of pure red colour, and strange shape - a slit was cut on it, on the place of head, and a large,blood-red gem inset... His sword.. was hanging down from his right side. It was without sheath... but who could sheathe a long, double-edged-blade?

With a quick, and discipled move, Elythriande equipped both the shield and the sword, and with the latter, he aimed on the snarling beasts. One of the worgen were kicked to the ground with a daring move, as he bashed the other with his shield. With a spin of the long blade in his hand, the worg wrestled to the ground was decapitated with a single strike. The Blood Elf could not stand it not giving comments to his strikes: "That' child's play!"

Yet the battle was still raging on. It would have been early to announce that our heroes have repelled even the first wave...

[ewpk]

Jason carefully made his way to the source of commotion in the woods.
It seemed like it took him hours to actualy get a clear view of what was happening up ahead. Inch by inch he crept towards the sound of battle.
Jason had leared to be very carefull what he should rush into.
The sound became louder as Jason tried to avoid to make nois himself.
Carefully chosing where to place his feet.
After several minutes Jason arrived on the battle scene.


What have we here? this is most certainly a strange combination of people.
Jason observed the fight, he saw a gnome hurling fireballs at their atackers burinng all the worg en worgmen he could aim ait.
His eye then fell on a dwarf with a priestlike apperance surrounded by a dark aura. ready to cast a spell to any of the animals atacking him.
Then he saw something he didn't see everyday he noticed a cloacked high elf standing there not arming himself, just kicking away a worgmen trying to lash at his leg.
That elf is either very good or mad
in the centere of the formed circle stood a night elf shooting arrows at the beasts Jason also notciced a night elf girl trying to defend herself but she was trembling so much he was suprised her atacks actauly hit her target.
They all fought on their own not caring for the other.

Jasons face had a sad frown.
mercenaries they where all the same, no honor just money, and if one of them died that just ment more for the living. Such was the life of a blade for hire and the life I have chosen. But I will always keep my honor no one will ever take that away from me
Jason stood there watching the ongoing battle wich seemed far from over.
Should he help? Or just walk away, this was not a battle that did consern him.
But it looked like they needed help he couldn't just walk away when people were dying. His eyes where drawn to the cloacked high elf as he threw his white cloak off and revelealed an impressive armor and weaponry and started atacking two the animals atacking him.
That is not an ordanry mecerany

Jason sighed and grabed his bow from his back as he scanned the battlefield looking what he could harm. He saw the gnome franticly throwing fire balls at the closing worgs but there where to many they closed in on him and two more fell down burning to a crisp.
The two remain wrogs growled, there was no way possible that the mage could actualy take two out. But jason recognized the look on the little man's face he would go down fighting and taking as many with him as he could.
Another fireball was launched at the wrogs the left one fell down as the right took aim and took a leap at the gnome.
Jason released his arrow and shot the beast in his shoulder throwing it of course, this gave the gnome enough time to also insinerrate the other monster. Jason fired another arrow at a worg, but it just flinched over the shoulder leaving nothing more then a cut. The angry worg turned around and scanned to located the source of this atack. He saw jason standing there with his bow and arrow. It almost seemed like the beast was grinning when he started charging towards him follwed by two of his pack members.
Jason cursed to himself he shouldn't have missed that shot.
Quickly he drew his scimitars ready for the incoming atackers.

The worgs started to circle Jason.
Steady Jason let them make the first move
One of the worgs jumped at Jason's troath, Jason stepped aside slashing at the worg wouding it at the side. He couldnt prevent the teeth of the second worg to penetrate his armor and sink deep into his skin.
Jason clenched his jaws together so he wouldn't scream out in pain. as he trusted one of his swords trough the worgs skull, with a shudder the worg let go of the leg and sank to the ground.

one down two to goThe third worg jumped for Jason's troath now this time jason duck trusting his other scimitar in the belly killing it instantly but beacause of the force of the jump the scimatar was thrown out of Jason's hand. Unarmed now he stood there one scimitar in a worg skull and another inside a stomach. The last worg launched at Jason, Jason just had enough time to put his arm between the worg and his troath as he fell backwards by the weight of this creature. The worg keept strugeling and trying to get at Jason's troath to make the fatal bite.
Jason tried to reach for his boot that was his only chance to walk out of here.
He grinded his teeth as the wrog's teeth sank deeper into his arm.
Finaly he got a hold of his stilleto dagger wich he forced into the flank of the worg piercing its heart killing it instantly. Jason just lied still there for a minute tyring to focus his mind.
am getting rusty

He craweld up and grabbed a bandaid out of his backpack to quickly tend to the wounds on his arm and leg there was no use in bleeding to death.
After several minutes he was done and he grabed his dagger and put it back in his boot, he pulled out both his sword and started scanning again who would be the next vicitim to kill

[Fayeborn]

Oscald Wildwire
***********

Jason released his arrow and shot the beast in his shoulder throwing it of course, this gave the gnome enough time to also insinerrate the other monster. Jason fired another arrow at a worg, but it just flinched over the shoulder leaving nothing more then a cut. The angry worg turned around and scanned to located the source of this atack. He saw jason standing there with his bow and arrow.

The gnome barely had time to register this as one of the two worgen he faced wound it's way towards a new attacker. He chanted under his breath for a second and disappeared from the spot he was standing, only to reappear on the other side of the worgen he faced. It turned tracking his scent.

Oscald grinned and found that this battle was actually.. well.. fun! He kept grinning as he wove the magic in the air around him and released it in the form of a fiery ball to strike the worgen. It crumpled to the ground leaving the unpleasant aroma of singed fur and burnt flesh.

Oscald allowed himself a second to survey the situation. All of the other party members were engaged aside from Feanaro. He calmy looked through each of them as if weighing their merit. The gnome's grin stretched wider. He knew that if it came to it, his friend was more accomplished on bow and blade than most he had seen and felt little in danger even though Feanaro stood casually.

Oscald raised his hands towards the rear of the group and called forth from the ground a pillar of flame which lept up to singe the fur off several of the rear attackers at once and continue burning to form blisters on their flesh. Oscald knew he was a little less than half capacity and it was now best to damage as many as possible and not pick on single targets.

He formed a barrier around him of pure magic to fend off any errant blows that may come his way and waded through the struggle towards the attackers still alit with flames. His right hand fumbled through his belt pouch to find his ever-ready collection of explosives.


Dedrin Oncelight
##########

The dwarven priest swung his fists delivering a tremedous pummeling to the worgen that was losing ground before him. His arms a blur of blackish purple under the powers of shadow, his boulder sized fists acting as wrecking balls to the bones of their victim. He finished the worgen sprawled out before him with a stout kick to his skull.

Glancing about and seeing wounds on the group he was with, although they looked to be gaining ground, he allowed himself to slide out of the shadows. He shouted to the sky and a bubble of light formed around him. He raised his hands and a white glow bathed everyone near him, mending some of the torn skin and stopping the crimson stains of the blood flow.

He saw the elven druidess fighting as if she did not believe in the battle and he hurriedly made his way to her side. Jumping in the air and twisting, he planted both feet firmly into the chest of the snarling half-man and kicked him away. Both him and the worgen landed ontheir backs and made haste to get back to their feet. Dedrin grinned and slid back into the shadows.

The worgen snarled and regained his footing, clawed hands swiping at the air threateningly. Dedrin howled with delight as he incanted the words for "Vampiric Embrace" and followed by releasing a blue beam of crackling dark energy into the face of his foe. With every second the beam stayed connected, the party around him grew stronger and healhier by a margin. The worgen clawed at Dedrin but couldn't penetrate his bubble of light which shimmered darkly. The beam stayed intact and the opponent soon dropped.

As if for good measure the priest balled his right fist tighter around his prayer beads and brought it down hard into the snout of the worgen, bones crunching beneath. The bubble of light slid from Dedrin, and he stood knuckles bleeding and prayerbeads caked in matted fur and tissue.

Coming close to the end of his power he slid into the worgs area and proceeded to wrap bandages about his twisting torso as attackers bit at them both. Dedrin grimaced as fangs sank into his shoulder, mixing bits of his heavy robes with torn flesh. He finished the task at hand. Once the hunter's comanion was mended he turned to face the worgen that bit him and raised his gnarly fists. He didn't have time to connect a swing though because Grythic lept and latched onto the throat of the attacker and tore a large hold into his flesh. He fell to the ground making a sucking noise that could only be his last few breaths.

[Grysham]

The elf stood silently and watched the battle unfold. He had decided from the moment of the attack not to enterviene, to gage the members of the group and their abilities. What would happen later in this journey would no doubt be far worse than this attack. He had been told many years ago by a Dwarf that the best way to know a man was to see him fight.

Oscald was grinning ear to ear to while he spun magics around him like an adept. His skills had most certainly improved, yet the look of enjoyment at causing pain unerved the elf a moment. He had always seen the Gnome as goodnatured, friendly and ultimately harmless. He was proven wrong with Oscalds new found abilities.

The young elf fought as best she could, yet it was apparant she lacked ability and heart. The battle seemed to weaken her almost instantly, almost as though she were resistant to harming other creatures.

When the arrow hit home near Oscald, Feanaro turned and saw the new human. This one was darkly clothed and carried his bow well, yet he was now preocupied with other worgen who had headed his way. What he was doing here the Elf couldn't be certain, but chance meetings in Darkwood were seldom. Hopefully the human would be on his way once this battle was over.

When the high elf through back his cloak, Feanaro snorted in derision. A blood Elf. Though he had long abandoned his Night Elven identity and decided to forge his own way, casting aside his ancient prejudices, he could not help feeling a measure of distrust. As was his kreed, the Blood Elf fought with the training he no doubt posessed since his youth. He would question the Elf later.

The Dwarf surprised him most. He had assumed, much as he had of the others, that he would fight his own battle with little concern for his comrads. Though the Dwarf laughed at the pain he cause, he never the less came to the aid of not only the young Elf woman, but Feanaro's own pet Grythic at the cost of a noteworthy bite.

Feanaro had decided, the girl would go. The rest he would keep, for now.

He unsheathed his old blade, the keen edge ever sharp. A swing or two through the air caused a keen whistle which caught the attention of one or two worgen still standing on the edge of the battle. Feanaro kept himself calm and stood still as they rushed, trusting on age old skills and instinct. He gave himself to the blade.

The worgen rushed headlong, charging with little thought for their own safety. At another point Feanaro would have seen this as strange, but for now his mind was on a single point. The delicate throats beneath the gaping jaws.

The first Worgen lept, too high and too hard. Feanaro saw the pounce almost the instant it was made and side steped casually, his blade flicking out as the best lept by him snarling. The blade found purchase and tore a gaping hole in its side, causing the beast to fall heavily and whimpering, clutch at its insides.

The second beast paid no attention to the first and swiped hard with its claws. Feanaro raised his blade to meet the attack, slicing through one or two of its talons. The beast howled and fell off balance, swinging round to regain it and attack at once. It was such a simple mistake, one swordsmen were taught well not to make. Feanaro too advantage of the off balance sweep to draw in close, ducking beneath its claw and sinking the blade in its chest. He pulled out quickly before the blade could get caught and stuck and looked about him.

Around him the tired party panted, yet the Worgen now lay dead all about. Blood caked many of the members, from their own wounds and from their attackers, but no party members had fallen.

He spoke before any others could, "Gather close and lets leave this glade immediately. The carnage here could draw other beasts."

Without looking to see if he was followed he marched out of the clearing towards a small copse of trees.

[Fayeborn]

Oscald Wildwire
***********

Once the battle was over, and Feanaro walked away, the party scrambled to do likewise. Oscald looked around at the carnage and the full reality of what happened. While the battle exhilerated him, the bloody remains did not.

He had no idea why they were attacked other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time but he knew they did what they had to do. 'They had to defend themselves, right? Surely the instinctivities inside them caused the mass deaths of these wolvenmen??' he asked himself. 'Yes!' he answered himself aloud, bushy brows knitted close together in thought.

Somewhere else in his mind a raspy voice laughed "But master did not have to enjoy it so.. Master could have been merciful!" It laughed more and Oscald's face grew to be a bright red. He was about to rebuke the unknown voice when his stomach turned upside down as the smell of spilt blood and torn intestines reached his nose.

Leaning on a tree, he emptied the contents of his stomach on the ground.
The raspy voice laughed again, echoing in his skull mockingly "Master is weak."

Oscald shook his head looking ever older as his white hair, now spattered with red splotches stood out at all angles. He reached into his side pouch and pulled a bottle of summoned crystal water out and began to drink. As he caught up to the others as held it up as an offer for anyone else wanting some.

His face was still pale from vomiting, and inside his mind the laughter raged on from the demonic voice. He was determined to ignore it until he could control or subdue it. He reminded himself as he did at the inn, that he needed to talk this over with Feanaro.


Dedrin Oncelight
###########

Being half men the dwarf rolled several of the bodies over to see if there might be anything of interest on them. He saw nothing but blood matted fur and filth which seemed to lure the forest flies almost immediately. He spit on the ground in disdain.

The dwarf spared little thought towards the dead after that and made his way towards the same copse of trees Feanaro had set off to. He'd tend to the wounded soon enough. The elf was right. There were nastier things than this in Duskwood. He'd get them all healed up and that'd be his protection. He couldn't make it to the riches alone, could he?

When he reached the spot Feanaro appointed he began to mend the wounded as was part of his job. The gnome offered some water and the dwarf accepted some, casting a renew spell on the gnome while he was at it. He looked of unhealthy color and it was way to early for them to start losing nerve or party members.

[Arinnaya]

As the battle and chaos has reached its zenith, Elythriande was feeling something, that was a rare guest since the Outland battles. He was literally thriving in combat...

With his eyes glowing harshly in light green, with a shout "For Quel'Thalas!!", and rotating the long twin-blade in his hand again, he literally danced among the thickest cluster of wolf-men, and started to display some kind of 'waltzer', spinning his body with the blade held stiffly outwards with both ends, while holding the shield slantly upwards, to protect his unarmored head. As a result, the worgen fell like puppets onto the earth, bleeding, mutilated, or directly cut in half.

After this move, even a boastful warrior could have been proud. It does not come everyday, that a single man cuts down nine opponents, alone, with a single move. From this point on, no worgen dared to target him, but his party members.

Yet letting them fall would have been a foolish idea... So just about the moment he looked around, he has seen a crafty one of the wolf-men, aiming at the unsuspecting Night Elven girl. He raised the Speelbreaker Blade above his head again, and after speeding it up, he trew it directly at the attacker, accompanied with the loud battleshout: "Ai sef ae balana!!"

The beast had no luck. The sword landed directly in his back, pinning it through, and sending him to 'the ethernal fields of hunt' immediately. One would have expected Elythriande to pull his blade out of the bloody carcass for the next move. But he was standing still after having it thrown, raising his right hand high, slowly clutching his fingers. And the sword, like some kind of wonder, pulled itself out of the earthly remains of the worgen, and was spinning backwards in the air, until the crafty hands of Elythriande grapped it again, to be ready for the next assault.

As he looked around, it turned out, however, that there was no need for further strikes. Whatever remained from the beasts was a heap of bloody, furry flesh - some even burned, giving out a terrible stench - and the few survivors of the worgen horde, either as fleeing, or laying on the ground, dieing. The Sin'dorei fellow gave a kick to a nearby laying corpse that was blocking his way, and started to clean his blade: he pulled a piece of leather from his pocket, and with accurate movements, he was polishing the warblade from the thick layer of blood attached...

[Shanda]

The sound of battle woke Tallian from his thoughts. Since he woke and discovered what he had done the night before words from hi former master had seered through his mind, to calm him, to ease the pain of what he had done.
He did not pity the mindless undead but even if the parts of the forest was evil not all of it was. He had been thought to care for and respect nature and all its inhabitnats. This was not respect.

But again his thoughts vanished as the screams and shouts became louder.
"what was that? and who was fighting". Questions filled the mind of Tallian at the same speed as they vanished. he shook his head and started summoning his powers. whatever it was he had to be prepared for hostility.

Tallian swiftly left the open glade and became one with the shadows. The "battle" had ended adruptly as fast as it begun. From his place oh hiding Tallian could soon se a party of travelers closing in on the glade, but only the first one he could see clearly. It was an elf, a night elf from his colors and the way he moved, gracefully. as they were here he could guess that they had won the battle. But against what?. Those answers and others would soon come to him.

Tallian mumbled a silent word and his characters began to fade, soon his whole body was in reality one with his surroundings, it was a pity mages had forgotten the art of invisibility.

[ewpk]

Jason had a suprised look on his face when the whole party just left him there.
Well that is gratitude for ya! you try and help them and not even a thank you! Anger built up inside Jason, he hated rude people and well this was unheared off, next time they can die for all I care! He started to walk away but something inside was intrested in what they where up to, this was such an odd combination, even for mercenaries.
Stop it jason your curiosity is going to get you killed. Walk away and forget about this.
Jason slowed down as he sighed he was going to regret this but he was going to find out what they where up to.

He started moving around the group they where still not moving very fast since they were recovering from the battle they had fought recently.
He moved trough the forest swiftly and sillently.
He could get around them if he made haste.
Trees rushed by as he kept moving.
Toughts running trough his head, how would he handle this I mean would they let him join up, this looked like a reall adventure, it been a while since he saw some reall action.
After one hour he finly found a place he could wait for him.
he made himself comfertable and waited for them to cross his path.

After what seemed about fiftheen minutes he saw the hunter and his party walking down the forest path.
Jason stood up and dusted off his armor.
and waited for them to get closer.
When the group noticed him they stopped and he noticed they where discussing something. He grinned they probably where figuring out if he was a treat to them or not.
Jason stood their with his arms crossed waiting what the move of this odd party would be.

[Grysham]

Feanaro walked right by the grinning human with his arms crossed and sat on the trunk of a fallen tree. He noticed the copse had been scorched all already, the scent of burnt wood and earth fresh in the air. Whatever had happened here had happened recently, and it seemed as though the caster had been consumed in his own flames.

The human who had stood grinning in his path looked shocked as Feanaro ignored his precense, the outrage almost overwhelmed by the sheer shock. Whatever the human wanted, Feanaro hoped he would be quick and then move on his way. He didn't have time for further distractions.

A thought crossed his mind, perhaps this human could take the young elf with him and remove two problems simultaniously. He snorted, maybe he wasn't such an inconvenience afterall.

Grythic surprised the human again with a growl in his direction as he walked past him, the great worg tired from the fight of meer moments before. Despite the blood soaked bandage around its midrift, the great beast seemed more satisfied than wounded. Images formed in Feanaro's mind from his companion, the numerous kills the beast had made. A total of five from what the Elf saw, and particularly ferocious. Feanaro chuckled at his companion and scratched behind its ears, he knew what Grythic was saying and let the beast know he recognised the victory.

"Alright, alright. You won this fight, just leave plenty for me the next" He said a little more jovialy than usual. His tone of voice with any other was always flat and nonchalant, prefering to give nothing away.

The others arived in the clearing and noticed the human who looked about ready to march up to Feanaro and voice his outrage, being distracted however by Oscald who had stoped and was examining him with the air of one looking at a horse.

"Fine, fine, so I see. Stupediforious strengths too and wearing dark, always dark in the dark dark forrest" The Gnome muttered. Finally nodding to himself Oscald then turned to Feanaro "Seems a good enough specimen Feanaro. Shall we keep him?"

[ewpk]

Jason raised an eyebrow, as his face turned red.
Did he just call me a specimen?
Again Jason felt the suden urge of pummeling this little obnoxious gnome to his sences. He saved this bloody gnomes life at least he could show a bit of gratitude. His fist clushed to fists.
"My name is Jason and there is no need for all these insults little man.
I happend to see you get in trouble there and decided to help.
Wich is a good thing for you little man since you almost ended up as a snack for the worgmen"

Jason turned towards Feanaro.
He obvioulsy was the leader of this pack.
he looked at Feanaro and he couldn't see any emotion on his face.
His attention was drawn to the worg growling in the back of his throath at Jason.
"Well I was thinking that a party like yours can always use an extra pair of hands that know what to do and since I have nothing else to do right now I thought I could tag along with you guys."

Jason looked the party.
If he wasn't so short on money he wouldn't even think of joining up with these thugs, but anything was better then starving
He looked at Feanaro hoping if he could read anything of his face but the face stayed blank.
"I will do my share, I am an excelelnt scout and I am okay with a bow and sword, I promise you won't regret it.

[Fayeborn]

Dedrin Oncelight
##########

"Fine, fine, so I see. Stupediforious strengths too and wearing dark, always dark in the dark dark forrest" The Gnome muttered. Finally nodding to himself Oscald then turned to Feanaro "Seems a good enough specimen Feanaro. Shall we keep him?"

"My name is Jason and there is no need for all these insults little man.
I happend to see you get in trouble there and decided to help.
Wich is a good thing for you little man since you almost ended up as a snack for the worgmen"

"Well I was thinking that a party like yours can always use an extra pair of hands that know what to do and since I have nothing else to do right now I thought I could tag along with you guys."

Dedrin snorted after the brief exchange of words.

"Wai' a minute. We canno' be takin' on e'ry stray we come across into dis' fiasco! Dere's only so much goods Ah be willin' to parth wi'." the dwarf stated, accent thick and face becoming flush with indignation.

He pointed back and forth from Oscald to Feanaro for emphasis and continued, "Ah'll do my part, an' if you're thinkin' we need more then so be eht. Ah mah'self think we need ta stick to what we started wi'!"

He crossed his arms and looked sternly at the human in the walkway. He spoke to him.
"An' if you be thinkin' you can walk in here an join up wi' us, ya' better be able to hold ya' own. If ya' be faint o' heart or weak in the swordarm, I can bless ya' send ya' on your way, lad." he stated and squinted up at the human, his scarred face a vivid red and clanked his prayerbeads together dangling from his belt.

He looked between Feanaro and the new arrival questioningly, waiting for a decision.

Oscald Wildwire
***********

The gnome looked taken abock by the humans heated response to his question, but in good gnome fashion shook it off. He strode over to the human in the pathway and extended a short fingered hand.

"Oscald Wildwire, master inferiferous and enigineerable of magnamous purportions!!" he declared, followed by a wink.
"Doesn't that sound impressive??" he asked and grinned.

When the human merely stared at him and didn't immediately grasp his hand in return the gnome didn't even notice. He looked back to Feanaro who was giving attention to his pet worg and investigated the the area surrounding the hunter. He knew signs of firey magics when he saw them. He sniffed the air while waiting for the tension to resolve itself quickly.

"And need I say in reminder, we're still not so far from our last battle horrificus and we're standing pretty close indeed to where something else happened fairly recently? We had best come to a decision and move along briskly, then." his squeaky voice sounded certain as his eyes moved along the ground looking at the charred remains of once healthy foliage.

[Nork]

Nork was conciouse. He looked abought his surroundings, he was sure that he had recognised some of the angles the trees had fallen. He looked down at Karren, his little Shadow Imp.

'Karren, how long have we been travelling' Nork eyed his health stone, it could not have been long, the stone still glowed a strong green.
'me does not know master Gnome. But im thninking, me have been here before'.

Nork tutted and eyed the Imp with evil intent.

'If you get me killed Karren, i swear i will haunt you in the Nether' Nork coghed up a splatter of blood, which landed on his Green orb, wipeing it away with his wriests, he looked ahead.

The road seemed long and stretched, before dissapearing into the shadows, his vision began to blur and before he lost conciouseness again, he could have sworn he saw the siloettes of a party of people. Nork only prayed to the Shadow that they would be friendly.

The Felstead had been waundering along this path for some days now. The Gnome master that sat on his back kept falling asleep and slumping forward. this made the ride very uncomfterble, even if he was only a small, light load for the horse to carry.

The Imp did nothing but dance around his feet throughout the entire journey. A few times he almost trod on him with heavy hoofs, but the Small creature flipped out of the way just in time and cursed the Stead in its native Nether tounge.

Soon the horse began to tire. It would stop at the puddles that lay on the path and take long refreshing drinks. Now and then it would munch on the grass on the verge, to keep its stregth up. Soon the Stead was beggining to think if it would ever get to where the Gnome needed to go. The dark woods, were starting to get repetative. He began seeing the same tree, at the same place.

Just as it lost hope, he saw an odd assortmant of people he had ever seen, especially for a Horse as widely travelled as he was. Accross the Tanaris desart, following Elves on the Tigers. Through the Jungles of Feralas, leading a human warband against Furbolgs. The Stead had thought he had seen it all.

'Stop you stupid horse, can you not see, they can help our master?' The Stead was snapped out of its daydream by the Imps shrill cries.

Looking through its eyes now and not its mind, he had stopped in front of the party, all staring at such a spectacle. A lone horse, with feet and eyes ablaze, a Gnome pearched atop, with an arrow through his left shoulder, clutching a green orb in his right hand. A small imp, shrouded with black smoke and shadow, dancing abought, always fidgeting and never able to keep still.

'Help him please, you help him? he is hurt, an Orc arrow, you see? he is dieing please help' The Imp did his best to comunicate with the party, thoguh he was not sure that they would fully understand his broken tounge.

[Fayeborn]

Oscald Wildwire
***********

'Help him please, you help him? he is hurt, an Orc arrow, you see? he is dieing please help' The Imp did his best to comunicate with the party, thoguh he was not sure that they would fully understand his broken tounge.

Oscald heard these words and looked at the party he was with. Not one of them moved in response to help. The dwarf began to pull his beads from his beltline, Feanaro observed it unblinkingly with his fingers tightening his hold on Grythic's fur which was raising a bit, the blood elf stood with a sneering expression on his face cruel double blade visible and at the ready.

"He said he needs help!" Oscald repeated as all eyes shifted to him. He didn't understand why they couldn't recognize what was going on. Sure the creature had a broken dialect, but everyone here talks funny!
He gestured wildy until the dwarf raised a hand bathing the gnome-lock in green energy sealing the wound tightly so the arrowhead was forced out. The skin beneath the torn robes still had a greenish hue and the druid stepped forth and said a word in a musical sing song voice and the greenish color dissapeared removing whatever poison might have been left behind.

Oscald sighed in relief and looked back at the creature who was tending to it's master who was coming around. The fellsteed looked on with wide fiery eyes.

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn
***************
Just as the remnants of the Worgen horde have given up the battle, and fled as they could, the battlefield turned to almost as silent, as it was before. The Blood Elf, despite his reckless, and utterly dangerous moves, has survived the battle with only minor scratches, that have solely afflicted his equuipment only, in addition. Elythriande did the best to return his blade to its former state, carefully polishing it clean with a piece of leather. However, it became apparent that the blade has suffered more, than just being besmirched with the black blood of the wolf-men. The discovery of the damage made the Sin'dorei fellow give voice to his indignation:

"Damn, if I do not get it repaired soon, it will break, and be useless. I need a smith to repair it properly."
He was also aware, that the state of his armour has suffered much due to amortization, close to a dangerous threshold.

Hanging his sword back to his side, and with his shield already on his back, he set out to search the corpses through. Though the worgen were uncivilized, and never used clothing, or weapons, still, occasionally, even those 'worthless monsters could hold treasures...

With a little luck, he found a piece of glittering gem, with the fingers of the dead wolf-man still cluching around it with the rigor mortis.. He pried the dead hand open, and obtained a rather worthless piece of loot: it was not even magical. So all he did with it, was hurling it to Nacolita, the Druidess, who was sitting on the thick layer of fallen leaves, still struggling with her conscience about striking at the innocent creatures of the forest... She caught the tiny gem with her hands, and gave a rather brief "thanks", before returning to her thoughts.

Elythriande looked around for more 'lootable' corpses, to find something magical... "unimportant what kind, but containing some magic essence to fuel his hunger... anything... just a little bit..." But Fortune was not on his side this day. As he lopoked up, all he could see was a figure of a man... The human must have been newcomer... If it would not have been enough, there came another... and another...

It was indeed a strange phenomenon, that the sounds of battle acted like fly-paper. They lured the most different kind of adventurers to the site of bloodshed, as if they were offering else than pain, suffering, and death.

[Nork]

Nork opened his eyes as he felt warmth cover his body. A faint feeling in his left shoulder, brought him back to the land of the living. The pain eased and was gone, for good. It took a few secounds for him to focus on the sillottes that surrounded him. Though it would seem that only two were really paying him any attention. A Dwarfen priest and a Gnome, whos magical essence led Nork to beleive he was a Mage.

Nork slowly rose to his feet, though no matter how slow he would have went, he was still over come with dizziness and he stumbled a bit. Throwing out his hands for anything to keep his balance, he found a tree stump, shook his head and regained his thoughts. Looking up he realised that it was not a tree stump he had leant against, but a rather disconcerting Elf, who introduced himself as Feanaro and promtly shoved Nork off his leg. What rudeness, Nork thought, especially from an Elf, they should know better.

Nork, now regaining full conciouseness, aproached the Dwarf.

'I thank you master Dwarf, truely you are a Priest worthy of the Light. Please except this gift as a token of my gratitude'

Nork clasped his hands together, closed his eyes and said a few words in the tounge of the Neather. Rays of bright light shone from his clasped hands, getting brighter and brighter, the glow started to grow. Until a ping, that could have been an amplified pin, dropping on a metal sheet. Nork opened his eyes again.

'Here Master Dwarf, I would assume you are familiar with a Soul Stone? For saving my life, i offer you life when yours is wainning, though use it wisely, for it can only be used once and only for you.'

Nork handed the Dwarf a bright Blue orb, just larger than his own fist, a red hue could be seen around the border of the orb, from all angles that you looked upon it. In the middle danced a small white mist. It was said that these Soul Stones, could bring people back from the dead, though no one, but Warlocks, ever really knew this to be true or not and people who were in possesion of a Soul Stone, when near to death, have no recolection of ever using such a device.

Nork looked abought the Party once more, there was only one other time that he had seen such a mish mash, odd assortmants, of beings partyed together and they were times that he would rather forget. They were dark times, when Nork was tricked into being a Warlock. He was consumed by the Shadow that he thought he had control over. Leting his emotions run his every being. Truely they were dark times.

Norks eyes waundered around the group, until he came across the Gnome again. There was something familiar abought him. Nork remembered a story told to him in a Tavern in Iornforge, of a Gnome venturing through Wetlands, when he completly lost his mind and could be see darting hither and tither, flapping his arms like a bird. He dissapeared for some time and it was rumoured that he was eaten by the Ooze, that waundered the keeps, others said that he was raised by Whelps and they taught him fire magic, though he thought that the Raptors had got him, a more than likely story. There were so many stories, but this Gnome matched the description and of pictures he had seen. What was it they called him? Oscald Wildsomething.

'Oscald Wildwire? is that you? it truely is an houner, to be in the company of such a magical and, dare I say, Hero? amoungst our humble kind'

[Fayeborn]

Dedrin Oncelight
##########

'I thank you master Dwarf, truely you are a Priest worthy of the Light. Please except this gift as a token of my gratitude'

'Here Master Dwarf, I would assume you are familiar with a Soul Stone? For saving my life, i offer you life when yours is wainning, though use it wisely, for it can only be used once and only for you.'

Dedrin's eyes widened slightly at the appearance of the gem-like orb. He grinned but it looked more like a grimace as reached down and took the offered soulstone.

"Ah can geht familair wid' eht!" he said, tucking it into the larger belt ouch on his left side. He grumbled another word of thanks before turning back towards the rest of the group.

Then he listened with intrest at the rest of the conversation, though you couldn't tell from his expression. He looked restless and ready to move onward.

Oscald Wildire
**********

'Oscald Wildwire? is that you? it truely is an houner, to be in the company of such a magical and, dare I say, Hero? amoungst our humble kind'

Oscald grinned in spite of himself. Ever since he had drank too heavily with that town crier in Goldshire, his stories had been told and retold over too much drink. The crier was moved by the hilarious outakes and overall seemingly insignificant tales and wagered that in two years time he could make Oscald a "house-hold name!". Oscald had laughed uncomfortably at the time, knowing that no social outcast such as himself could ever be remembered, nor he thought back then, would he want to. He made a mental note to visit Goldshire again and pay up the 10 gold coins he owed the crier.

"I assure you I am no such hero! However, Oscald Wildwire is my name." he extended his hand in greeting toward sthe mounted warlock.

"You see, what really happened was that I drank a bit overlisciously with a crier by the name of "Happen Stance" that bet he could.." the story would have rambled on had not Feanaro stood up suddenly as if reaching a decision.

[Grysham]

Feanaro Serona
* * * * * * * * * *

The elf finally stood, a hand to his forehead. These events were unbelievable and his frustration was growing almost to the point where his calm facade cracked. He had intended to reach the southern ruins by tomorrows waning light, but at this rate it would take them a further week of travel before they even came close.

Not to mention that it seemed they had come across every waif and stray in the entire thrice-cursed woods. Wounded gnomes and useless elven girls who looked better placed in a cosy Inn serving a frothing ale and even then she would no doubt look akward and clumsy.

He stood, Grythic sensing his displeasure and letting a single bark to gain peoples attention. Oscald, in the middle of another of his ramblings, stoped and looked up almost sheepishly, the others all turned to look uneasily at the beast, with the exception of the blood elf who seemed more concerned with the magical orb Dedrin had just recieved.

"Enough" he said, his voice raised more than usual. He took a breath to calm himself before he continued "We have no time for this. One stray after another after another, bah"

He waved an arm in the direction of the human "You, as the Dwarf said we dont need more members. This girl" He stabbed a finger in the direction of the young elf girl "Needs escorting back to Darkshire where she'l be safe"

The girl seemed shocked, then insulted "W... wait just a moment, I can hold my own" she said, her eyes falling on the blood elf and telling Feanaro more than he needed to know about her coming along "I dont need to go anywhere."

"You'l be leaving girl, or you can take your own blasted way through these woods alone. You, Gnome, being injured in the Duskwoods is a sure path to death. Your wounds are healed, take yourself and go. The sheer odds in us all crossing paths are monumental" Feanaro said, his usual nonchalant voice fading to show his frustration. He breathed again a moment and was calm.

His fingers, almost automatically, reached for the dark orb contained in a pouch by his side, always close to his heart. His elegant hand caressed its surface, feeling the smooth dark orb and the flow of dreams within it, the centre of his quest, the push to fullfill his desires and the plague of dreams these last few years. Endless dreams.

"Perhaps one or two strong willed companionables would be helpful?" Oscald said, walking over with his usual grin "You can never have too many swords at your back, my old master used to say. Of course he was running from them at the time... that town was really unhappy... especially with the combustiable hair regrowth formula. I dremt of being chased by torches ever since."

Oscald stoped as Feanaro stared at him. Finally the Elf chuckled and shook his head, patting Oscald on the shoulder as he passed "I'm afraid, old friend, I do this for their own safety as much as mine. Where we go I doubt it shall be easily tamed plainstriders or bears. The girl must go, and I'l not trust any creature I meet in this wood. Especially so conincidentally after our battle" He gestured over his shoulder.

"No, I'm sorry but my mind is made up. The human goes with the elf. The Gnome may do as he pleases, but I'l not welcome him to the group. My apologese, but I can not run the risk of betrayal by whatever manner of beasts they may be" Feanaro said, his usual nonchalant voice returning, a quite whisper compared to before.

He turned back to Grythic and sat, his hand on its neck. It was indeed a strange coincidence to meet so many wayward wonderers in this forest. Strange indeed.

[Nork]

"No, I'm sorry but my mind is made up. The human goes with the elf. The Gnome may do as he pleases, but I'l not welcome him to the group. My apologese, but I can not run the risk of betrayal by whatever manner of beasts they may be"

Well i never, thought Nork. I have never heard such abtuse arrogance and bad manerisms from an Elf in all his life. Not even the Sentinals of Darnassus spoke to him in such a manner.

'Fair thee well Elf, for i do not wish to join your party, no matter what deeds it is you are up to. But i need to be on my way to Lakeshire and continue to help them fight off the Orc Bandits and Invaders.'

Nork bit his tounge and fought with his anger. His past expriance taught him that letting anger control your every emotion and thought, can lead to being controlled by the Shadow.

'I do not fear no dark place full of Shadow, for i am its master. thank you again Master Dwarf, i will tell of your good deeds to all that i drink with and Oscald, a very fair well to you and may you live up to the tales'

Nork kicked his heels into the Felsteads side and rode off in the direction of Redridge. His trusty Imp, Karren, close on the Horses heels.

'Are we killing them Orcs again master?'

Nork couldnt help but laugh at the Imps comments, as he willed his stead to go faster, Norks eyes beginning to glow a faint red, as he gritted his teeth and let the demon spirit engulf him, so that he could force the possesed horse to go fastrer. God knows how long he had been gone and how much Redridge would be suffering.

[Fayeborn]

Dedrin Oncelight
##########

"No, I'm sorry but my mind is made up. The human goes with the elf. The Gnome may do as he pleases, but I'l not welcome him to the group. My apologese, but I can not run the risk of betrayal by whatever manner of beasts they may be"

The callous hearted dwarf watched the little gnome ride off on the felsteed with the leathery skinned imp hopping along behind him to keep up. He showed his satisfaction by grunting at Feanaro's decision.

The human arrival also looked a bit taken aback and the blood elf and elvin druid cast each other a few glances. 'tha' blood elf be no more' carin' fer' that druid than Ah be.' he thought to himself and shook his head from side to side. He saw the confusion in her eyes however and gently grabbed her by her right elbow and led her towards the human, careful not to put too much pressure through his massive hands.

"Comon' now girl. Ah be thinkin' that' our other elvin freen' has been makin' tehr right decision. Ef yeh'd just go with tehr fine specimen here *he said with a wink to the human* Ah'm sure he'll be takin' good care of ya'."

"Alright then! Off we go!" Dedrin declared as he brushed his stalwart hands against each other as if brushing off dirt.

Despite the confidence he showed, the priest had a very sudden feeling that this was no where near the end of the oddities that they would see. He also felt that those three folks would not be so easily pushed aside and that fate may bring them to cross paths again.

"Ha!" he said to the air sarcastically "but by den Ah'll be a rich dwarf, and won' hae' time for tehr likes of dem!"

[Shanda]

Tallian stood motionless and breathed very slowly. The scene that took place before him was something so unusal as it could have possibly been. In the middle of a cursed forest, swarmed with cursed beasts and other horrible creatures, a party of mercenarys were arguing about how many swords that would follow the Night elf to some destination only the gods knew where.
If it was he, Tallian, who led a group in this forest he would welcome anyone who could swing a sword or mumble a spell.

"No I do not want to be close to these.. people.. when they meet the true horrors in this forest". Tallian turned to leave. he had a long journey still and had no time to waste, especially not on mercenarys as these.

Still invisible Tallian left the arguing party behind, his magical abilities told him which way to go. Minutes later he dared to let go of his magicfield that made him unseen for the common eye. He was tired, he had not recovered fully from the battle before and even a simple thing as an invisibilityfield was enough to tire you out. Tallian decided that a couple of hours would take him far away from the people back at the glade and then he could rest.
He had a long and dangerous journey ahead and he would need his strenght.

[ewpk]

Jason looked at the elven girl.
They were right the girl didn't belong in these woods, and the greed of the others made this the prefect excuse to get rid of him.
Jason shook his head, what happend to the time when you would fight by side as brothers and drink an ale in the tavern to celebrate victory and honor lost friends. Jason sighed as he forced the nostalgic thoughts out of his head and his face hardned.
"You heared the hunter lass, time to go."

The elf girl looked at the human with a stuborn look in her eyes.
Jason frowned.
"Make this easy on yourself."
The girl didn't move.
"I can take care of my own, I don't need to go."
I don't have time for this lady, I have been asked to get you back to safety and by all that is holy in this blasted world I will.
The girl just nodded no.
Jason threw his hands in the air, okay then you asked for it and he started to walk towards the elven girl.
She stepped back.
"Wait if I can convince you that I am strong enough to defend myself will you take me back to them?"
Jason growled
"For the love of god women would you just come with me!"
The girl armed herself.
"Okay okay if i let you fight me will you come with me?"
The girl nodded.
Before the little girl knew what happend Jason sat on top of her with a dagger on her troath.
"Okay you dead, now get up and follow me!"
The girl blinked.
"I won't! you can't make me!"
Jason's eyes shot fire
"Enough is enough"
With his strong arms he hurled the girl on his shoulder.
"If you won't walk yourself I will bloody carry you there"

The girl started pummeling his back with her fists.
"Put me down!"
Jason grinned
"Sorry lady can't do that unless you give me your word you won't run."
Jason started walking the way he came back.
Back to the city and back to find a new job.

[Nork]

Nork had been galloping his horse hard and fast for some time, though what the time was he could not tell, the tree canopy blocked the suns rays and it always seemed night in these haunted woods. Though he did not care for darkness, as the shadow brought him strength....

WHAM!!!

Nork, lost in his thoughts, was thrown off his horse by a trmendouse force like no other he had felt before. Tell a lie, there was only one thing on this plain, that Nork remembers, that threw him too the ground so hard, it nearly killed him.

Nork slid abought 20 meters along the cold, hard dew dropped ground, grass staining his dark armour, an even darker green than it had started. Coming to rest, Nork layed still for a moment. Calming his nerves, catching his breath. Letting the adrenalin wash out his body and prepared himself.

Nork pushed on the ground and he rose to all fours, panting hard, he spat bllod onto the moist grass, wipeing away the stringy blood that clounge to his lips. He brought his right leg up underneath him and pushed with his left arm, so that he sttod upright.

Norks eyes glowed an ever familiar red, as anger and resentmant coursed through his vains, stooking his internal fire that fulled the shadow of his mind and heart.

There was only one such creature that could have hit Nork with such force. Though he feared the creature with his every being, he had defeated one before, though only bearly getting away with his life. Nork turned and faced his foe, hands spred, palms facing up, out in front of him.

'Alaouram sudolas Infernalas'

Nork threw his arms to the air and a bright green flamed arced into the clouds above, which started to spin around green flame and shone the same eriee green colour. From the center of the mass, a meteorite began to fall, striking the ground behind Nork, kicking up a torrent of dust and dirt.

From the ashes it rose, strinding forward, shaking the ground with ever footstep. The hulking rock form of the living fire essance, that strode over Nork with no effort and bore a firey fist at the only creature Nork feared.

'Now you have met your match, there is no Infernal alive that can match the power of mine'

Nork looked on, as his Infernal went into mortal combat with the Infernal that had knocked him clean off his horse.

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn
***************

This forest was indeed a strange place: though silent as death itself, newcomers appered at every moment - and disappeared to the thick grey cloud, that had embraced the whole accursed place.

The Blood Elves have a particularly keen arcane sense, and Elythriande was no exception: for some moments, while searching for concentrations of magical energy, had felt certain disturbances in the very weave of reality. If he could concentrate more on it, he could have realized, the whole world, as they see it these moments, is no else, just a grand illusion. Yet he cared not for such depths of magic: only a Blood Mage could have had. What he was searching for, was much more earthbound: any item, that could satisfy his newly aroused thirst for mana...

Though he could have seen the invisible wizard passing by, and heard the distant voices of stones crashing upon wood, what his attention was focused on, was the orb, that Dedrin, the Priest, has just received, but just carelessly pushed into his pockets. The Sin'dorei fellow was just thinking about pickpocketing him, for he did not appeared so endowed with charity, to give it freely to anyone. In the end, he was almost about to give up fantacizing about the orb, when it ...suddenly fell out of the pocket of the Dwarf: there must have been a hole on his pockets, that the dwarf, carelessly, enough, did not notice... He even walked by, not recognizing the loss of this item.

Elythriande quickly grabbed the orb, with a certain sense of satisfaction... he held it in his left hand for some time, as its mere presence provided him a pleasing sensation... A brief relief from the grasp of magic addiction. But just as he started to regain his spirit, the orb was rapidly using its own. Its dark glittering became duller with every second passed. As Elythriande felt its energies depleting, he simply dropped it onto the leafy ground, as "the dwarf will surely notice its loss soon, and go for it".

The orb, with its energies partially drained, still shined with the faint, violet colour of the Nether, while laying among the dried leaves of the forest...
The group, now reassembled, has started to continue their journey, and they left the missing item behind their backs with a long distance as time slowly, but dreadfully passed by for those imprisoned in the cursed woods...

[electro]

Nacolita was still a bit confused from the fight and it happened all very fast. She had a little dumb look on her face and her smile was gone. what did you expect in these dead woods. But nontheless, she grabbed her staff and turned herself into a panther and started running towards the rest which where easy to find due to their scent.

As soon as she caught up with them, she stealthed to give them all a big scare. Because a person without humor isn't a person at all, or that's what she makes of it. She runs a bit in front of the group, waits a second and then comes out of the blue and yells "HELP!!". Luckily she did that because if she didn't the rest of the group wouldn't have responded that fast on the attack that was about to happen with 2 orcs, a troll and something that looked like a cow.

Nacolita could dodge the first and second blow, the third was a direct hit on her head and that knocked her into the ground. Suddenly a flamesphere from the mage, and Nacolita got entangled by the "cow". could he be a druid to?
Nacolita started to cast starfire on the troll directly followed by a critical moonfire. The roots around her started to grasp harder and she started to feel the pain. This wasn't a pleasant feeling as the roots stang their thorns deeply into the young flesh of the elf.

[Nork]

WHAM!!!

Norks Infernal landed a clean left hook into the other Infernals rocky rib cage, sending chunks flying. Nork dove out the way of one and looked on. The other Infernal stumbled back and knocked into a tree, sending it crashing to the ground. Norks Infernal began to shoot its fire balls from the stubs of its handless arms, but to no effect, why would the very essence of fire be affected by fire?

Nork looked on, his eyes begun to illuminate a bright and fiearce red, an energy he saved for only the most viciouse fights.

'Engerguise Aflictus Elemantus'

Nork threw his right hand toward the attacking Infernal, its Ferral Flame dosed abit, as Nork cursed him with the Elemants.

'That should help a bit'

Norks Infernal, seeing the cast, Roared at the sky, its own living flame burning brighter than ever, engulfing it in a sheath of smoke and licking flames. Fire Shield, Nork purssumed.

The attacking Infernal was getting angrayer, it charged Norks Infernal at full pace, Nork fell to the ground with the tremours it was creating. The attacking Infernal shoulder barged Nork's, which was powerless to do anything but take the blow. Both Infernals fell to the ground, creating a massive crater. The Attacking Infernal pickied itself up and begun to stomp on the rocky rib cage of Nork's. More chunks of rock flew, Nork had to throw a couple of Fire Bolts with his wand to deflect some.

Norks Infernal desprately threw up his right leg and kicked the attacking Infernal in the back, sending it lurching foreward, but it did not do enough. Suprised at what Nork saw next, the attacking Infernal launched itself 12 feet into the air and came crashing down with its left knee and smashed right through Norks Infernal's ribs, destroying the Living Fires cage, freeing it into the Nether till text time. The rest of it exploaded in a massive torrent of flame and black smoke, tinted green at the edges, from the fire. Nork was sent flying across the forest floor and came to rest at the foot of a tree stump, layed un-conciouse.

Satisfiyed it had done its job. The Infernal survayed the battle ground. It had no idea how it had come to exist in such a place. But here he was, apparently victoriouse and against another Infernal no less. Its gaze came across a tiny creature it had never seen before. Apparently, this minute creature, a creature so small that it did not even stand above the smallest of trees, so small that it bearly stood taller than the smallest of bushes, this small creature, was the cause of its attacker. Only one thing ran through its mind, the Infernal that attacked it, almost killed it, there is only one way to make sure it does not happen again, was to kill the puny creature. Even in his extremly weakened state, how could such a tiny creature even harm such a colossus.

[Grysham]

Feanaro Serona
* * * * * * * * * * *

Feanaro collected himself and readied the party to be off and out of the glade. It was clear at least one other battle had taken place here and he was eager to be on his way towards the ruins south of here, there awaiting the orb and his dreams.

The rest were quick enough once the newcomers had been moved on their way, each pitching in a different direction through this apparantly trackless section of wood. The Elf's brow furrowed for a moment as he tried to recall when they had left the roads through the woods, though they weren't entirely safe. He couldn't recall leaving the pathes yet here they were in some trackless expance of nowhere with only his inante hunters skill for direction for guide. For a moment he questioned where he was.

Other things came to mind. The sudden flurry of attacks by creatures acting out of character. The frequent chance meetings with other travelers similarly attacked or wounded. This odd feeling of dream which Feanaro had learned to recognise from his own that lingured as though he had freshly woken. He felt something amiss, though his pet seemed contented enough.

Before they could leave however the Druid girl surprised him, calling for help from just behind the party. He swore loudly and pulled two blades as an odd assortment of horde races decended on them. He recognised the usually calm Tauren and bit back his surprise, it was rare for Tauren to randomly rush and attack an enemy outside of a battlefield. It was rarer still to find such a small group of horde races so far in aliance terratory.

Grythic leapt forwards teeth drawn.

[Nork]

NORK

Nork stared at the Infernal with content. This was no ordinary Infernal, it had taken his out, without even trying Though Nork was prepared for a long battle, it lasted mere minuets. But that was not the thing that was bothering Nork the most. Where had the being come from? If it was another sommoner, than why did he not sense his powers? Nork leant on his staff, taking the weight off the right leg, resting it a bit as he pondered the creature. Its expression of confussion and some what, dim wittedness...

'Well my friend, it seems that there may be more too this place than meets the eye' Nork turned his back and began to wounder south, off the path and toward Redridge Mountains.

'Maybe i can use you to scare the Orcs out of Redridge' The Infernal followed Nork at a slow and labourase pace for such a large creature.

Infernal

The Infernal was all ready to attack the tiny creature, but found it could not move. It looked abought itself, but nothing seemed diffrant. Unable to comprehend its banishmant, it continued to struggle free. But to no avail. The small creature was saying something, but, even if the Infernal could hear him, he would not have been able to understand its strange tounge.

The Infernal was moving again, but against his will, it seemed bound to the creature, it could hear a voice inside its head, commanding it, telling the Infernal what to do. The Infernal fought for control of its own mind, but he did not have the will. Its primative brain could not overcome something far superiour than its own being. It had no choice but to obey, so he eventually submitted his mind.

NORK

The Infernal was fighting for its freedom back, but such a slow witted creature, only bent on killing anything it sees, even its own kind, would not even stand a chance against Norks inslavemant. Eventually Nork found it easier to control the demon and he could of had it skipping if he so desired, but a skipping Infernal could not possibly strike fear in the hearts of his enemies.

'HELP!' came the soft and distant voice.

Norks ears pricked as he tried to listen out for it again, but it did not come. Perhaps, Nork thought, it was someone that was not careful enough and got carried away by the woods mystical creatures, Duskwood was oftan filled with cries of help, screams and cackles.

[Arinnaya]

Many of the newcomers disappeared from the sight as quickly as they were summoned. They went on a different course, and got out of sight, as if they were never came to existence... Only those have remained, who have been members of the group from the start...

No one has questioned Elythriande's motives or whereabouts, even now, and he noticed this with a great relief. Many foreigners would have attacked him on sight, only because his kin have earned a great deal of distrust, and enmity... Yet it apparered, that this forests holds much worse creatures, than him.

Picking up his - hastily repaired - weaponry, he went on to follow Feanaro. Though many Blood Elves would never have done it.... but, after all, they made a treaty of informal sort before the adventure... and it is impossible to survive in this cursed forest alone...

His thoughts went on to imagine, what worse they could be facing there, and hated to think: there were creatures, that made even him shiver. These were the nightmares of each and every elf: the dreaded, cursed mutants called Satyrs: the ones mother tell her child to scare him off from straying away into the forests. For if one is caught, they will either eat him, or turn into one of them, though bathing in a cursed pool... condemning them on eternal suffering, in service of the Demons...

Yet he dismissed his though quickly, when he heard a shout from amidst the wilderness: it was a female voice, and Feanaro had apparently noticed this as well: he raised his head, and directed a change of course in the march.

As they ran through thorny bushes of the understory, jumping over fallen tree-trunks, and dodging a few, but deep holes, there came more intrigueing sounds of battle from the same direction... Strange, as if scratching stones on eachother.

Reaching the Night Elven girl was more difficult, than they thought: though she could not be that far, it took the adventurers several minutes rushing through the forest. Feanaro was in the lead of the pack, followed up by Dedrin, then Oscald and Elythriande. The Dwarf was sturdier, than most have thought, having an impressive stamina. And the little Gnome used his Super-Giro-Mechanical-Steam-Ostrich to advance just as fast, as the others did on foot.

Just as they have reached the site of the assault, a surprising scene has presented itself. Nacolitha was laying entangled within a single, thick mass of brownish-green roots and vines, apparently magical in origin. Her attackers were standing all around her: there were both tall, and shorter figures, all strange to meet here. Two of them were wearing chain armour, their impressive body buildup suggested they were orcs - though they wore helmets, that covered their face, and skin. Two slender, but bad postured followers of them - one wearing only a robe - had the characteristic face of a jungle troll, with their tusks protruding in front. There was another, powerfully tall one, that Elythriande has only seen so far on Kalimdor: he was a Tauren... but why would a normally peaceful being attack someone on sight?? There must be a serious misunderstanding, at least Elythriande thought so.

Feanaro stopped for a moment, giving command to attack, no only to Grythic, the worg, but everyone of his group. The Blood Elven fellow tried to use the momentary silence following this act, to clear up things before it ends in an unavoidable bloodshed. So he shouted at the Orcs, with the best of his knowledge of the Orkish language: "Lok'Tar Ogar!! Throm Ka!! What are you doing here?"

The combatants of the Horde side were completely surprised by this interlude, and lowered their weapons for a brief moment.

[Nork]

Nork was jogging in the direction of where he thought the plea for help was. With nothing better to do and only a little way from his path, he thought he would investigate, after all, this close to Redridge, it might have been one of the War Band stragglers that had managed to escape as he did.

Listening out became hard with the Infernal thundering behind him, so Nork told it to stay hidden underneath a large canopy of trees and continued on his own, constantly checking his link with the creature. He had not travelled far when he heard a faint voice calling.

'Lok'Tar Orgar!! Throm Kal?'

Though Nork did not understand what was being said, he knew the foriegn tounge. Horde!

Nork creeped along at a slower pace, gently brushed aside the long grass he snuck up on and sure enough there they were. Even a Tauren, but this was not what Nork was surprised to see. There, standing in front of the Horde were the party he had stumbled across, including Oscald, the Dwarven Priest and that rude, arogant Elf Hunter.

They looked like they were in trouble. Using the power of the Neather, he contacted his pet, and told the Infernal to attack the Tauren, Nork assumed that it was the most powerful of the group. Nork waited patiently for the Infernal to advance the fair distance it had to travel to combat, then Nork would make his move and aid these travellers.

[cheetoaddict]

Chotuk
Chotuk ran as fast as he could. His master had forced him into this damned... slavery and charged him to investigate the relative parties. Chotul had no choice but to obey; he was compelled by his master's summoning and binding. The angry little imp ran along towards the sight of the commotion. All it knew is that SOMETHING was up, and, because of his charge, Chotuk had to run to the source, which was probably more dangerous then he would have ever even half considered going near. Suddenly, Chotuk stopped dead in his tracks. Glancing at his wrist to be sure he was invisible, Chotuk slowly crept up near the two parties. He looked around, and at first glace, just saw the tauren and orc; the others were blocked from view by bushes. The imp slowly crept around, then saw the blood elf, night elf, and, after another second of watching, a gnome, probably a warlock, crouching behind bushes. Chotuk also heard loud, booming steps in the distance; his demonic sense were much clearer then anything else near him.

Chotuk was quick to figure out that the large creature approaching was an infernal. This confrimed his guess as to the Gnome. For now, however, he needed to report back to his master, then freakish abombanation that he was. Chotuk quickly ran away from the scene, leaving the two meddling sides to their own; he had his own intrests to fill, and chiefly among them was outliving his master...

Jallun

Jallun was frusterated at this time. He was working on his passtime, which was enchantment, but he needed many more materials before he could start up again on his skills. Also, he had heard rumbling through the forest of intruders. HIS forest. HIS property. He had earned it, he told himself. They would pay dearly for trifling with him, he told himself as he sent Chotuk to investigate more deeply. Now, the undead warlock was waiting for his imp to return. It seemed to be taking ages for that cursedl ittle creature to come to him. Bored, Jallun mounted his firey steed and returned to his crypt, still waiting impatiently for his imp to return. Jallun was not a fan of long waits, and was nearly ready to conjure up an Eye of Krillog to investigate for himself when suddenly, panting, his imp burst through nearby bushes.

Jallun: It's about time you got back. What kepts you!?! Have you confirmed the rumors?!? I need information NOW!

Chotuk: Easy, easy. Just lemme give ya the report, then lemme go!

Jallun: Shut up and get on with you accursed creature.

Chotuk: Right. Well, what I saw was an orc and a tauren, couldn't vigure out what they were, but I saw a gnome warlock, a Night elf, prolly a hunter because she had this big wolf 'round her, then some kinda blood elf, couldn't figure out what he was doin' either, but he's some kinda magic user. That good enough for ya?

Jallun: No. Return and get me more information. I need much more then that if I plan to root out these intruders.

Chotuk: **groans** Whatever. You'll get yer info.

Jallun: I wouldn't have it any other way. Now MOVE!

With another annoyed sigh, Chotuk ran off in the opposite direction from Jallum returning back to the forest yet again...

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn and Gash'Nag&Friends
********************************
The last words of the Blood Elf have still echoed through the forest:
"What are you doing here??"

A deep, orkish vioice was the answer on it:
"Ely?? I think I could ask the same for you!!"

There was a surprise in all those present, regardless of being Feanaro's followers, or members of the lost Horde troop. One of the heavily armored, bulky 'monsters' has taken off his thick, plated helmet, to reveal a greenish face, with tired eyes, long black beard, and some minor tusks in his mouth. Yet, no matter how terribly it might look for humans, the mouth has quickly curved upwards for a smile...

As Elythriande stepped toward the Orc, all the other combatants have released their grip on their weapons... the only one still at attack stance was Grythic, the worg... Just as the Sin'dorei fellow and the Orkish champion faced eachother, the latter gave a pat on Elythriande's shoulders.. just as a fiendly gesture, yet his strength was so mighty, thet the elf almost stumbled to the ground from this barbarian greeting. And he accompanied this with the words:

"you ol' bastard, I never thought I will see you here, pal!! Didn't you say you have no love towards other pinkskins - and he glanced towards the rest of the group for a moment - yet you are now in league with them!!"

Elythriande also smiled upon receiving the latter comment:
" Being in league would be a great exaggeration: I just joined them on Treasure Hunting!!! I would be more interested if I knew what the heck are you doing here?? You said you had business in Durotar!!"

The response from the Orc was quick, and sounded in broken common tongue - just as all his speech - but still understandable for the others around:

"Zak zak!! Aye, you are right, but I took the goblin Zeppelin to Stranglethorn two weeks after you... I accepted a mission to reinforce Stonard, and assembled a new group for the task... They said the guys are having bad times at the Swamp of Sorrows, and they welcome any help. We wanted no trouble, so we travelled only night, and off the road, to avoid human patrols... Then we get lost in this damn' forest!!..."

Then the other orc, beside him, has interrupted his words, with his similarly deep, harsh voice:
"We are walking day-and-night since two days... The Undead keep coming... They are killing our nerves..."

The great, bull-headed giant has also opened his mouth, putting his staff aside:
"Sorry to attack you... I though you are one of the un-dead..." And he leaned down towards the frightened Night Elf girl, lending his hooved hand to help her up.

"My name is Thunderhoof, I serve the Cenarion Circle on these forsaken, dark lands..." - he started his introduction, with a deep, but impressively friendly voice. Nacolita has immediately felt she found a kindred spirit in the mighty beast.

Meanwhile the leader orc has continued his speech: "I don't want to be rude, so I better introduce myself for your friends as well.. I am Gash'Nag, just a simple Grunt from Durotar, but a champion of Thrall's cause. This is my companion, Drak'Thul... An old and responsible Shaman, even if he doesn't speak much. And my fellow Trolls: Zul'Unu and Sen'Bashi... And I think I cannot leave the mighty Thunderhoof out.

One of the bad-postured, and hideous humanoids known as Trolls has stepped forward. His left tusk was broken off, but his eyes still reflected fervor. he lifted his right hand in the sky, showing something in it:

"How you doin' mon?? Wanna see my shrunken head collection?? I be makin' a killin' business with 'em once we go back to Stranglethorn. The woodoo witches, they love 'em. Wanna buy one??"

The other one, wearing a nicely-decorated robe, showing various plant ornamentals known as "bloodwine" sewn into the suit, was eyeing his rogueish companion with unease. Elythriande noticed that she is supposedly a witch herself. These dark mages of the Trollish nation practice arts that most mages would abhor, placing terrible curses on their enemies...

Gash'nag wanted to be generous with his 'friend', even though their 'friendship' was based upon a rather short relation. They have adventured alongside for a brief period in Quel'Thalas, then returned to Kalimdor. To show his freindly attitude, he ordered the troll mage:

"Let us celebrate!...Sen'Bashi, could you give two manapotions to Ely...?? I'll pay for them.. I know you are a strange kind of creature, that you prefer manapotions, rather than ale or wine... A welcome drink from us!!"

Elythriande gave a brief 'thanks' for the gift, but did not drink from them, rather put them away to his pockets. The others around, have eyed the strange scene and characters' meeting with astonisment, and could not open their mouth from surprise....

[Nork]

NORK

Gazing upon the scene in front of him, he collected his spirit, redy to help the Alliance once more, against the Horde of Redridge, or so he reckoned that that is where they were from. Though in the weeks he had fought them at there stronghold, he had not noticed they had Trolls or Tauren for that matter.

Norks eyes widened with surprise as the Horde lowered there weapons. One of the Orcs even hugged the Blood Elf rather brutishly, assuming they were friends. The Orc pointed to each of the Horde party in turn, probably introducing them to the party Nork had ran into awhile back. One of the Trolls stepped forward when he introduced him self and offered what looked like little bleached stones to the others, assuming they were enchants of somekind, while the other Troll gave up a few viles of blue liqued to the Blood Elf.

Nork relaxed a little. Obviousely they knew one another and he brushed the long grass aside ready to make his greeting, when a large, dark, blur, launched itself over the hapless Gnome and landed with a crash infront of all the party members.

GASH'NAG

Gash couldnt help but show a rather large grin on his face when he met Elythriande after such a long time. Thoughts of ventures past and times of saving his life, repaid with him saving his life. After the plesantries were passed, he turned to Elythriande, to find out where he was headed. But he could not help notice the Night Elf hunter looking rather impatiant, his Worg pet constantly bearing its teeth. Gash assumed it was a pup. He was used to the massive Worgs, the Orc cavelry rode into battle and such, were the only Worgs he grew around.

WHAM!!!

There was a humendouse defening crack of thunder and the ground shoock so violently that nearly every party member's were knocked off there feet. With the exception of the Tauren, who mearly stumbled a bit. Looking up from where he had fell, Gash saw the Giant Infernal before him, lent over screeming its, low groaning battle cry at Thunderhoof, who merly begun to cast upon the beast that easily stood 6 feet taller than the Bull.

Gash'Nag, immediately jumped to his feet, pulled out a small green throwing axe and lobbed it at the Infernals had, which struck cleanly and embaded itself in the side of its rocky skull.

'By Thrall, By Hellscream, You will die by my hand demon!'

Gash'Nag, let out a blood curdling roar and the Infernal immediately turned its attention to the Orc. The Infernal Brought down its handless arm crashing down upon the Orc, but missed by mere secounds. Gash had dodged to the right, slashing across with his Blood Red Axe, upon the Demons arm, which it recoiled from and reared backwards. Gash could see out of the courner of his eyes that Drak'Thull had begun laying his totems, already, Gash'Nag begun to feel a new vigour and started to attck his opponent with renewed rage.

INFERNAL

The Green creature had surprised the Demon with its abrupt swiftness, though it did look very bulky and slow in all that armour. All it saw was a blur of red as its weapon slashed into its arm. The rage built up in the demon and its living fire essence bellowed, but he was too weak from his previouse fight and its mind was clouded with someone elses.

Looking down he saw the greenskined warrior jump for him and landed on its torso, using its rocky ribs to maintain its grip upon him. Again the demon saw the red blur, as it penetrated its rock hard torso and pierce his fiery heart. This was it, this was nearly the end, one more shot and his essence will return to the Nether. The Infernal punched his own torso, squashing the green skin against his own body. But it was a futile efort. An arrow pierced through his right eye and killed of his brain, stumbling backward and falling to the ground, the fire slowly, twinkled out and was absorbed by the ground.

NORK

Nork let out a yelp and clutched his right eye. Tears stremming out of it. Norks link was too strong on the Demon and it could have been fatel. The arrow that hit the Infernals eye, the pain was transmitted directly to Nork and his vision out of it blurred and he stumbled into the clearing, where the other party members were.

GASH'NAG

Gash had launched himself at the Infernal, using its visable ribs to cling on for dear life, bringing hids axe to bear, he pierced the demons heart, but it did not go down stright away. Before he knew what was happening, he was crushed up against the beast as it fell to the ground. Every thing was spinning and Gash could see stars and spangles before his eyes, finding it hard to focus. Laying flat on his stomach, with no energy left to move, his breathing became shallow as his companions came over to check on him.

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande & Others
***************
This was a surprising scene of meeting, that happened moments before, and the members of Feanaro's "treasure hunters" could not relieve so easy at the though of having a bunch of untrustworthy creatures at their side, though they did behave friendly, apart from the initial skirmish-move. Grythic could still not forget some past insults, while kept grinning at Gash'Nag, and the Dwarven Priest, Dedrin by name, cast some sneerful glances upon the Trolls. Perhaps he wondered how long it will take before his head ends up as just another piece of Zul'Unu's collection... Oscald was consumed with his own thoughts... Maybe thinking of business, that the Hordies could offer... new gear, new components.. perfect for a new construction... Nacolita distanced herself from the group a bit, while starting an exchange of opinions with Thaunderhoof, about Druids' matter no one could have understood, even if it was told in plain common...

Then another enemy made its appearence... Indeed strange: a huge, hulking demon, with burning body: one of the reproachful creatures known as 'Infernals'. In fact they are not living, sentinent ones, even if they posess a mind of some kind: they are golem-like constructs of the Eredar demons, Rulers of the Void. It is a rare occasions, when they make appearence: only the most powerful demonlords are capable of summoning forth such servants freely... for a weaker warlock, this remains usually a dream... for these infernal services are extreme expensive.. even for the loyal servants of the legion!!!

Elythriande, so far , has seen these horrid creatures only on the Outlands, in the epic battles of claiming the Hellfire Peninsula for Lord Ilidan.
His first though was: "How is it possible... to see one here???"

Yet thinking was a luxury in the situation, when the blazing giant has already charged forward. Slowly, but unstoppable.
Gash'Nag wasavid to answer the threat: He charged fearlessly into battle, as he did many years ago, in the shade of the Demonic Onslaught on Kalimdor. He fough valiantly to quell the invasion, in Thrall's army, to avail finally. He would never allow such a creature exist, he sworn then.. and was still fiercly loyal to it now

The loose gathering of adventurers acted more-or less unified beyond his back. Drak'Thul offered his totems, Sen'Bashi her spells.... just to discover, that the enemy was immune to woodo curses... The same discovery struck at the mind of Oscald: the demon seemed to consume his firebolts, becoming stronger, instead of weakening... Feanaro commanded Grythic to aim his anger at the Demon...yet the Worg was hesitating... he could not aim his anger at the burning rock, when there were so many dark strangers around. In his canine minds, he seen the Orcs hitting him with cudgels, to force him obedience. The memories of former owners... are unforgettable for more intelligent beasts...

Elythriande has thrown his blade at the beast from afar, with Nacolitha and Thunderhoof whispering some kind of divine invocation into the air, right beside him. The Blade flought with a strange hum, and clashed ito the beast with a great, metallic clank... Yet it rebounded from its skin, as if it was of pure stone - sparkling as it bounced off - without causing even a scratch!!!

Thugh the battle seemed uneven at the first moment, Gash'Nag's unbridled anger, and brutish strength did decide it: he crushed his mighty battle-axe against his though skin, and cut it through. Moments later, the horrible Infernal was a history: his bodyparts laying down on the grassy ground, as the heat slowly faded from the stones, it became an ordinary rockpile - well, almost ordinary, with unusually black, strange stony pieces. That immediately aroused the interests of Oscald, who quickly pressed a handful of the extraordinary material into his pockets - as much as a little gnome could carry off on his own legs...

Elythriande wondered again, as sounds of the battle faded, and the fragile peace has returned to the forests again... the same unnerving silence, with only the harsh winds to be heared... What are these creatures doing here??? The most strange collection... just as if the worst of their fears would come true... Though he did not think it earnestly... yet.


Though he was right.... and there was more to come...

[Nork]

NORK

With the link to the Infernal so brutishly cut, Nork's head wass spinning at a rapid rate. He had never felt this sort of thing when he had enslaved Demons before. What also disturbed him, was that it took no effort at all to enslave it. Nork went to lean up against a tree to stabalise himself, but fell right through it, landing with a thud on the ground. Looking up he saw that he now lay in the middle of the hollow tree.

'What on earth is going on here' Looking around the inside, it looked like it went up into nothingness, no end.

Slowly gaining his wits, he then realised that the door he had fallen through was not there any more. Nork pulled out his wand and launched a fire bolt at the bark and blasted his way out. But the hole seemed to heal over faster than Nork could leap through it. Nork stood there, in a middle of a tree he had fallen through, with bark that healed faster than any thing he had seen before.

'This must be some kind of Sorcery'

Nork place a soulshard at his feet and begun to chant. With a bellow of smoke, Bruu'Grym, his Felhunter, stood there, facing its master with an eyeless head bobbing.

'Okay boy. Go feed'

With that, Bruu'Grym went crazy, running around like it had just discovered it could. Its tendrils that curled up from the back of its head, were spinning wildly, sucking in a faint purple tinge, that Nork had always figured to be magic essence. The Felhunter gave out a shrill high pitched shriek as the tree begun to vanish. Nork just stood and started in amazemant. Of all the things he had seen on his journeys, this was probably the most bizzar.

Befor Nork could come to his senses and acknowladge what was going on, Bruu'Grym ran off into the woods, trying to sap more magical energies from just abought every tree that it ran into. Nork could have sworn that Felhunters had a sixth sense for finding magical essence, but it seemes that his was born without it, or it was never developed, as he was born in captivity and was always told what to feed on.

Nork didnt mind him running off, no matter how far he would run off, Nork could re-summon him back to him. But for now, Nork was more distracted by the imaginary tree and begun to pounder what else was fake abought this forest, or why would any one implement a forest.

[electro]

Nacolita
--------------

AsThunderhoof helped her on her feet again, she thanks the tauren and introduced herself properly.

"Thank you, Thunderhoof, for helping me up. I am Nacolita, a night elf druid as you have probably noticed. And it pleases me to see a fellow druid with an amazing strenght in nature's magic."

Then she reached for the ground, with a little painfull look on her face, to pick up her staff she dropped when she was scared out by the horde fellows.

As Nacolita had spoken, Thunderhoof replied in kindness.

"Your feral strenght isn't small either, Nacolita, and you have a very strong spirit. The feral spirits are your friends, it's something I couldn't master in my lifetime that has passed. Who was your teacher? He must be very powerfull."

"Noone has trained me. I was taught by the wilds. Iwas abandonned by my parents."

"You mean you're a natures child? I am very honoured to be in your presence, because nature childs are very rare. The only one I saw was one of my masters, but I never thought that also night elves could be this way. I am honoured to have met you."

Thunderhoof excused himself for a while and went to see Gash'Nag, and whispered to him:
"This girl is a rare kind, maybe she's the one i was looking for. But we'll wait with the professy till we know more."

In the meantime, Nocalita went back to the rest of the party to see what was going on and saw a beast running away into the 'forest'. But it didn't matter anymore. She had found a trustworthy companion named Thunderhoof and she smiled. She forgot about the foul forest and just smiled, even a small blush formed on her face.

[Fayeborn]

Oscald Wildwire
***********

Of all creatures in Azeroth, one type is known to possess an innate curiosity that is unparalelled. Once the curiosity of said creature is piqued, there is no stopping it. It is this creature that preoccupies the thoughts of Oscald Wildwire.. A fellow gnome.

Oscald watched Nork intently as he fell into a tree. At first he thought to raise his voice in alarm but when he opened his mouth, no sound emerged. He realized it's because he was curious to see the outcome. He was not dissapointed.

When fut a few seconds passed he saw the tree de-materialize and Nork stood there staring about with a equally curious expression on his childlike features. His Felhunter companion took to the woods.

Oscald thought maybe now he should mention something, but the looks on the blood elf and dwarfs face revealed that they too had noticed the shift in the fabric of the woods.

Oscald began encanting spells and casting a field of dampening energy on each person present. Whatever this magic was, he didn't want any adverse effects to take place on his watch.

Dedrin Oncelight
##########

The stalwart dwarf looked at the horde members he just found himself fighting along side with and tending their wounds with distrust. It's not that he had anything against the horde as a rule, being a former Dark Iron dwarf, he just had little like for many of their close mindedness. It seemed that orcs especially chose to fight first and question later. This suited him as many orcs tusks had met the hardest fist they've ever encountered, and found themselves laying on the ground.

He squinted around at the rest of the group and his surroundings. Noticing that no matter whcih direction he faced he could see a tree almost identical to one in his field of view in an opposite direction. This unsettled the dwarf. His dislike for the outdoors strengthened as he realized that no oddities like this exist inside the caverns of dark earth he used to dwell in.

As he was facing what he supposed was the east he watched with intrest as the little warlock seemed to emerge from the innards of a tree, which seemingly evaporated as he watched. Not having any ale or mead he knew that this was either a strong withdrawl syptom or an indication of the curse these woods bear.

He clanked his iron prayer beads together and pondered the situation deeply.
A females raspy voice inside his head echoed his thoughts;
"Things are not as they seem, henchling.."

[Nork]

NORK

As Nork curiousely looked abought the woods, he noticed Dedrin and Oscald looking at him with equal curiosity. It was obviouse that they had witnessed him dissapearing into the tree, then hid Felhunter absorbing the tree's magical essence. Nork walked over to Oscald, he knew that talking to a priest abought magic, would be like talking to a brick wall, what colour it would like to be painted.

'Greetings Dedrin, greetings Oscald, it would appear, fate, would not have us parted?' Nork, as graciouse as a gnome could be, bowed before the priest and the mage.

Nork had always found it facinating abought his kind. They would all go off and become magnificant, Mage or Wizards, before the kind was interjected as one to become Magi. Some, even, became Rouges, due too there small stature, or, like himself, become so bitter and twisted from the events of Gnomeregarn and with there blacened souls, become Warlocks. But Nork could not remember the last time he had seen a Gnome warrior, or even a Gnome priest, preaching the Gods they beleived in.

'Curiouse, this specticle, isnt it? Oscald, have you ever witnessed anything like it?'

Nork turned round and looked back at the tree, half expecting it to be there and it was all in his head. But true enough, the tree had gone. Testing his link with Bruu'Grym, he could sense that it had found other similar instances, from small bushes, to giant boulders and full caves. This place truely was peculiar.

GASH'NAG

Gash opened his eyes, sparkles still filled his vision, but his focus was slowly coming back to him. Sitting up ever so slowly, as not to black out or give himself a nose bleed. He looked abought him. Thunderhoof was talking to the elven woman that had alerted her party to there pressance. The others were talking to his 2 Troll companions. Still showing off his bloody shrunken heads.

'I swear, if he dosnt stop going on abought those bloody shrunken heads, im gonna shove em' where the sun dun't shine'

Gash rubbed his head, knowing full well that he was gonna hurt badly, once the feeling returned to his body. He rolled out from inside the small cave, that used to be the chest of an Infernal, Now its body was turned into a small shelter, just big enough for him to fit in, uncomfterbly. Though a little smaller and he would have been squashed.

Raising to his feet, cracking his back, he retrived his axe from the rib of the Infernal and looked upon it.

'oh by Thrall! i just got this damn axe, now da' blacksmith is gonna' have tah' sharpenit for me'

Gash spat at the ground and looked around him again, just intime to see a small Gnome dissapear through a tree. Blinking his eyes with disbalif, he raised a hand and pointed a chubby finger, mouth gapping open. But no words came out. His face just slumped as the tree dissapeard, leaving a rather confused Gnome and a small dog like creature bounding off into the woods. That was it, off all the things Gash'Nag had found in the words, this was the last he could take. He sat atop the Infernals upper leg and begun to mutter to himself.

[cheetoaddict]

Chotuk

Chotuk ran towards where he last saw the horde and alliance parties. Runing as fast as his little legs would carry him, he barely noticed nearby trees warping and shifting around him. Suddenly, a tree branch swung out, nearbly smashing Chotuk to the ground. Chotuk barely dodged that branch, when suddenly, he felt a loud *SMACK* on the back of his head. He fell down, fading out of conciousness... out of the material world...

Jallun

Chotuk was gone. Jallun noticed it almost instantly. One second he felt his imp's presense... the next, he couldn't. Jallun instinctively raised his staff in a combat position, hightening his awareness and focusing in on the noises and shapes forming around him. Jallun was aware of his surrounding shifting before his very eyes. Right behind him, he suddenly heard a loud *SMASH*. Jallun whirrled around and saw a 7-foot tall treant looming behind him. Jallun barely ducked under a swipe of the massive thing's claw before striking it square in the chest with a ShadowBolt. The things staggered back a little, then swung yet again with his natural claws. One thing, however, was odd about it this time: The treant's arm literally stretched. It was as though the fabric of reality was bending around him. Jallun quickly ran over his options: Stay and fight alone, or run and try to make allies with the intruders. Ducking yet another swing from the creature, Jallun hit it with a shot from Immolation, momentarily disabling the creature as it tried to put itself out. Jallun then summoned his Nightmare steed and rode off into the warping forest.

After a chaotic ride through a forest of swinging branches, stretching trunks, and odd noises, Jallun finally found the group of intruders. They appeared to be banded together; he was obviously not the only one to notice the forest's change. Jallun saw one branch looming over the head of an orcish warrior, and immediently blasted the branch with Immolation. The sudden spell casting and the blaze from the brach caught the attention of the entire group. It was now that he noticed the fallen infernal which the orc had been sitting on. Jallun was suprised that none of the intruders had tried attacking him yet, then realized that they hadn't had a sudden burst of understanding; they just didn't know he was undead. Figures thought Jallun as he rode his demonic steed into the middle of the group. There was a stunned silence as some of the members of the party noticed his bony hands that were gripping the reigns of his demonic steed. Those that did immediently tensed up, raising their weapons in a defensive posture, as though they thought he might strike at any moment. Suddenly, to break the silence, the Gnomish warlock stepped forward and said "Who are you, Warlock?"

Jallun waited a second to respond, then finally said "I am Jallun." Any members of the group who hadn't noticed his bony hands now knew that he was undead from the characteristic harsg rasping in his voice; the group now unanimously looked ready to kill Jallun. "Relax, I don't plan to attack you. I simply knew you were hear and am seeking refuge from these... abnormalties." The orc asked "How do we know that you arn't one of thses abnormalties?"

Jallun grinned under his hood, a gesture no one could see, then cooly replied "Because I haven't tried to kill you yet. The way I see it, you can either trust me and gain the security of an extra member, or you can kill me, waste your own energy, and lose an opportunity for aid. I assure you, the second is the only logical idea."

"That's from your point of view." growled the Orc, but the rest of the group seemed willing to allow him to help; many of them lowered their weapons. Jallun glanced around and saw that most of them had lowered their weapons. He grinned, again a gesture that was lost in his hood, then said "It's good to see your support."

[Nork]

NORK

Nork and Oscald sat and talked abought what had just happened and tried to compare it to similar instances they had come accross. Now and then Dedrin would interject with the odd comment, speeking mostly from what he had seen before, but with no knowladge of magic, never really understood what he had seen. Though expecting any Dwarf to be in possesion of and wits, would be a dangerouse thing indeed.

There idle chatting was interupted by a brance that loomed over the Orc, bursting ino flames. The entire party looked on as a Human figer utop a Nightmare Steed. Nork instantley knew that he was un-dead. Only they had the power to summon such a foul beast. Un-biterbed by the un-dead pressence, for he had seen many on his travels through Silverpine some years ago, with a Priestess by the name of Arrinnaya. The only person who had shown him any compassion for a ver long time. Nork stepped forward and pointed the tip of his staff at the living courpse.

'Who are you Warlock?'

Nork could sense that blackness of his unbeating heart. His soul darker than that of any other un-dead, which could only have meant one thing, That he was a Warlock, as was himself.

Gash'Nag

With his consiounce shattered, his wits shot all over the place, Gash sat upon the Infernals leg and continued to mutter to himself. Of all the things he had seen in the days of being in this wood. With every event, his mind becoming more and more bent. With each unexplained turn, his wits left him and now they ahd finally gone. Leaving an empty shell of an Orc. Leaving nothing more than hulking flesh and bone. Now he would return to the Barrens and live out the rest o his life in solitude, like many that had snapped before him. Becoming only a myth, a bed time story to scare the little orclings, from straying to far from orgrimmar, or stop the peoms from running off.

Gash's mutterings was interupted when a brach above his head exloaded, sending Gash falling rom the Infernals leg. He might have lost his mind, but no-one makes a fool of an Orc. He lept onto his feet and searched abought for something to kill, his eyes came to rest upon a human that had just walke in.

'No pink skin makesah' fool of ol' Gash'Nag' he growled to himself

'I am Jullan' i said, answering the Gnome off on the other side of the clearing.
'relax, i dont plan to attack you. I simply knew you were here and am seeking refuge from these ... abnormalaties'

The rage inside Gash subsided only a little, perhaps none of them had seen what had happened. But Gash wanted to kill him any way. Pointing his Axe at the Human he asked...

'How do we know that you arent one of these abnrmalities?'

Gash desprately tried to get the rest of the party on his side, he wanted this human dead.

'Because i havnt tried to kill you yet' he replied harshly.

Gash suddenly became aware that this human did not speak or stand like any human he had known before. He had seen many of these strange creatures waudering around Orgrimmar. They called themselves, The Forsaken, or some such non-sense. Gash rubbed the back off his head, where he had hit the fround when he had fallen.

'Thats from your point of view' gash growled in a low voice that was supposed to sound threatening to the un-dead creature.

'its good to see your support'

[Shanda]

Tallian:

It was silent again, no wind blowing, the trees were still and the birds had stopped singing. Tallian had not seen a living thing for hours now. A thought ran through his mind swift as lightning. As silent as the last time.
Tallian stopped and stood motionless, listening for what he feared would come.
Nothing... He felt an sudden urge to shield himself in invisibilty again. Dissappear from this forest and its curse. But he could not. The strengt he had left he would need for other things then, more important things. And hiding from something that would find him anyway was not one of them.

He began to slowly make his way towards north, it was still silent. The odd silence that seemed to suffocate the surroundings with a layer of dampening material. And you could only find it here.
A load crack brought Tallian back from his thoughts. He turned around, looking for what might have caused the sudden sound. More cracks followed and soon he could see what slowly made its way towards him.

Tallian felt his blood draining from his face, his eyes were widen in shock and he stood paralysed, unable to move. The Tabbards of the soldiers moving towards him wore the symbol of the scarlet crusade. But not only that, they also had the markings of the Inqusition. The scarlet crusade thought of wizards just the same as they thought of the undead. And every wizards worst nightmare was to be captured by the scarlet inqusition. But in his terror and paralysation Tallian still noticed something odd about the crusaders. they did not move with the same motivation or blazing hatred they used tro. Instead they had empty expressions and moved slowly, as if they didnt want to be seen nor heard. Very much unlike the scarlet warriors Tallian had met before. His thoughts had made much of his fear fade away and he started to summon his powers. Hoping that the power in his mind would be enough.

The crusaders, which had been moving in a direct path towards him finally saw their target. Hollow screams of wrath and anger soon swept the silence away while they started running. drawing swords and axes as they ran.
Tallian stod concentrated in a cocoon of swirling magic, whaiting for the right moment to strike. As the crusaders closed in Tallian again was filled with thoughts. This was so wrong, these men did not act like crusaders but they sure looked like them, something was horribly wrong with this situation. But his time was dwindling.

Magic energies lashed out in waves. Knocking several of the crusaders of their feet. These waves were quickly followed by spears of molten magic that went strait through them leaving burnt corpses with grotesque holes in the bellys. The air was soon filled with high screams and the smell of burnt flesh.
In the midst of this pandemonium Tallian stood, he had still not taken a single step. His violent counterattack was so fierce and powerfull thats in mere seconds the bloody, and severly burnt bodies of eight scarlet crusade inqusitioners was all that was left of the sudden attack.

Tallian took some staggering steps forward. he had used all his resources and more then that. He had to find some kind of shelter where he could rest, and think. This attack was as the first one not normal, they had been to agressive and in a way stupid. Tallian thought no higher then that of undead, but humans and elite warriors to that would have behaved different in the face of danger and death.

He turned south this time, he had seen a cave not far from where he know were. With an uneasy staggering he started walking back from where he came, listening carefully for any sudden sounds or noises. After awhile Tallian started to wonder where that cave had gone. He had carefully followed hi own tracks but could still not find it. He knew he must have walked passed it by now but kept going, maybe he was misstaken because of his tireness.
Soon he gave up on his search and started looking for someplace els. Something was very wrong here very wrong. And in the distant he heard voices, familliar voices..

[Nork]

Bruu'Grym (Norks Fel'Hunter

The magical energise felt great, he almost felt liek he was going to burst, but he kept going ny way. He had not seen such plains of magic out side of the Nether. though there, he had to careful what he absorbed, the wrong thing and he would have other Fel'Demons chasing his tale.

Letting out high pitched squeeks now and then to see where he was, he noticed a cave ahead, it was only small, but quite an apitiser all the same. Bounding toward it, his talons flapped wildly above his head. Skidding to a hault, just short of the entrance, he began to feast on the cave. After a short while, he gave out a stisfied whelp and started to bound of again.

He did not get far, when he felt a massive suge of magic from behind him. This was strange to him. He was used to Magi, Shamansa dn other warlocks, but this was unlike any he had sensed before. Soon the surge dwindled, followed shortly by a mysteriouse figer bumbling through the woods, its magical essence had all but vanished, maybe some one who was not skilled in the arts of magic, or had just abused all his reserves, wither way the man idled right by him, with no seeming interst of where he was going.

'where is that cave'

It said in a slow and sluggish voice, as if half conciouse, Bruu'Grym, felt obliged to follow him for a bit, when he heard his masters voice and ran off to him, glad to be re-united once again.

[Arinnaya]

Elythriande Aryalinn
****************

The Blood Elf just lowered his head again, when the sigh of so much other mishappened adventurers has reached his eyes... He has not even surprised at the sight of an undead on his unholy mount. "..Just another one..." He though to himself. It was not the proud warrior he has been once... Those olden days would have seen all the unholy abominations destroyed before they could have been even born... and the same for demons. But since the Fall...

Elythriande just sat down on a tree-stomp to better look at the others... There were so many around.. and still but few. Some figures he saw moments before were consumed up by the spreading, heavy fog, as if they were never been there. The landscape was changing with every moment, or step they took. Something was not right, and the young Sin'Dorei fellow has felt it... Then.. suddenly.. he has seen images that chilled him to the core: The foul creatures, twisted images of the proud elves.... Satyrs!!!

It was his last word as well, as he jumped up, with his greenish eyes wildly glistening as he took his sword to rush forward... and attack his opponent...
The foul enemy has not retreated... has took not even a step backward. Elythriande's sword has cut deeply into his waist.. yet the powerful and razor-sharp balde has struck into unexpected resistance - and stuck into the opponent.

As he was trying to pull the edge out - he realized, that it turned out to be a scarily-shaped tree-trunk... The Blood elf was surprised - so far it never occured, not even on Outland - being fooled by his own heightened elven senses... "Something is not right" - he said to himself - " This is like a dream... a really-really bad dream".

[Shanda]

Tallian:
/
/
At first he could only hear voices talking very closly to the position where Tallian was, in a way, hiding. But then a character in bloodred platemail armour darted forward, passing Tallian by mare inches, he was invisible so the.. elf, no bloodelf he thought the figure was, would not have been able to se him anyway. the elf wielded a heavy double-edged-blade that he spinned over his head as he aimed for his target. CHUNK! the elf had buried the blade in an oddly looking tree-trunk, he struggled to get it lose again, a bright green glow shining from his eyes, as he was completly overcome with bloodlust.

But moments later the elf seemed to get to his senses and stopped his furious attack on the tree. Tallian watched, amazed by what he had seen.
The bloodelf looked around looking puzzled, then his eyes fell on Tallian and his green eyes narrowed. Tallian realised that the elf could sense him, of course he thought, he used magic and bloodelfs were particulary sensetive for magic.

Tallian let go of his concentration and materialized infront of the elf. Whitout a word the elf again tried to tug his blade lose from the tree trunk, but in vain the blade was stuck. Tallian raised both his hands in a friendly gesture.

"Stop that, I am not here to hurt nor try to attack you or your companions in any way, i have just gotten abit lost, the woods seem to crawl with dark magic and something is holding us here"
The elf opened his mouth, maybe to argue or maybe to agree but Tallian spoke again.
"before you say anything, I saw you attack that tree trunk and I can guess that you saw something els then just a piece of tree and bark. Am I nor right?"

[Arinnaya]

Being fooled by such illusions of his own mind, the Blood Elven adventurer tried to listen to his inner cunning, instead of letting himself becoming lost to the treacherous senses of his eyes. With some calm movements, the Sin'Dorei fellow hanged his sword back on his belt.

As he looked around widely in a highly inspective manner he found the scene totally different from the one spot he was at moments before. It was terrifying, yet true: the whole landscape was shifting!!

There was no sign of his previous companions left: the thick mist has covered all the forest, and all was silent: deadly silent. The cursed forest was not for the faint-hearted: The people in the tavern were telling dreadful stories of it, and now Elythriande could see it with his own eyes, why. Too soon, he realized, he has been tricked with the promise of easy gold coins, into a deadly trap. the Blood Elf was almost about to swear something terrible at the now-disappeared Night Elven hunter, who brought all this upon their head. Too bad, now he was likely trapped just as him, with all his treasures!!

In a similar situation, those without courage would have most likely run around in a wild frenzy, to find their lost companions. However, the Elf's calm mind, and cold intellect told him not to do so: For it would be like moving when caught by quicksand. Instead, he opened his eyes widely, observing every tiny spot aroud cautiously, whether they give any clue to the lost one.


Some dried leaves stirred on the left side, and Elytriande was immediately on the jump: He instinctively moved his right hand on his belt, grappling his blade in the instant. The creature continued to move, and soon, a head appeared from behind the tree, then a torso, and then a whole body. It had... no fur.. no horns or hooves... Elythriande has hanged back his blades to his side, once he has seen it was nothing of a satyr or a similarly fervid creature.

With a sneerful scorn, he looked over to the human in the long robes: " Lost folks litter this place, I just hate to see yet another illusionary one..." He said these words half-loud to himself only, while the newcomer has pulled his hands forward from beneath his cloak, and tried.. to introduce himself!!!

Upon the really friendly words, the answer of Elythriande was simple:
" Adventurers like you.. heh, swarm over this forest, believe it or not!!! It looks like... I am growing tired of these... tricks. You would better prove if you are not an illusion as well... "

Though the phrases of the Sin'Dorei might have looked threatening, he did not even bother with pulling a sword: his words were inspired by the undirected rage and unquenchable anger he felt towards the creator of this foul place... this illusion.

[Nork]

Nork

The area was brimming with excitmeant. People were on edge and there certainly was nothing normal abought the place. It was very un-familiar to keep waudering into adventurers like this, espically the Horde and Un-dead.

The conversation with Jullan ended ubruptly when i fain ting of metal hitting something hard. Nork spun round to see that the Blood Elf had attacked what seemed a rather harmless tree trunk. Nork shook his head, Elves were the most queerist of creatures he had ever seen, there senses were sharper than any other being in the whole of Azeroth, but here was such a creature, attacking a rather produnt tree trunk. Nork turned to fact Jullan when he caught a movemant out the courner of his eye. Turning back to warn the Elythriande of the possible attacker, he found that he had gone, not just the shadow but also the Elf.


Norks sense's hightned as he saw the creeping fog moveing in, the fog that had swallowed Elythriande and the shadowy figure, he hoped that he had also seen the shadow in time as well. Heart beating so hard that he could not hear anything else. No matter where you went in Azeroth, no where had creeping fog like this, it was even un-natural for Darkshire and the thick forest that surronded it.

Trying to maintain his wits, he could not let this occurence un-hinge him. But he heard something, a faint grunt and the heavy stomping of feet, pulling out a soul shard, he readyied himself for a fight, but the heavy thudding did not draw nearer, instaed they faided into the distance. Some-one was doing something they shoudnt in thick fog. More noise came off to his left, it was quite and intermittant, galloping, Nork thought. Maybe a wolf, or worse, a Worgen. These creatures were common in Duskwood, there existance a mystery, but they would come in the dead of night and steal people away. raiding parties would go out during the day. But tracies of them could not be seen.

As the galloping drew closer, Norks eyes could see a faint sillouette bounding toward him, it was small, but moved very fast. Nork took an attack stance as his heart begun to beat faster and harder. You can travel Azeroth and face enemies that are 12 foot taller than you, but at the time, you know what you are faceing, you can see them, eye to eye, or in norks case, eye to ankle. But when all you an see is a shadow in a thick fog. You cant help but let the fear wash over you.

Gash'Nag

The fog had come fast and Gash didnt even notice it. His mind and gaze was fixed on Jullan. One thing he had learnt in his time, never trust the Forsaken, even though they claim to be allias of the Horde.

Waveing his arms abought at the fog, he tried to clear it out the way. growing up in the Desert, you become unacustomed to such strange annomalies. Still waveing his arms abought, he begun to walk back in the direction that he friends had been standing, but found to his demise that they were not there. He thought that he had gotten his direction wrong and begun to walk back to where he was standing before and came face to face with the head of the Inferno. Surprised to see he, he drew his axe and went to plundge it deep into its skull, but realised that it was the one he had killed before and that it still remained as he had left it, dead.

Not knowing what to do, he stood and thought for a secound. Last time he remembered, he was sat on the leg of the Inferno, which now layed to his left. To confirm this he begun to walk in the direction of the torso, but instead he found a ditch. Scratching his head in confusion, he turned abought and walked back to the head. Only to be greated by a strange looking creature. He had not seen one before and found it to be most curiouse. It had no eyes from what Gash could see, its mouth constantly in a cheeky sort of leering smile. At the back of its head, seeming to come from his skull, were long sleek black tendrils, this seemed to make up its hair, with the odd gold ring. 2 of these tendrils folded back up above its head and the ends seemed to open up like a flower. Its main body was a dark sandy sort of red. Its hide seemed thick and ruf, like the scales of a dragon, only smaller.

Gash had no time to inspect the creature any further, for it bounded off into the fog.

'Bruu'Grym' came a cry within the fog, it sounded like the Gnome, Nork.