World of Warcraft®

“Have I ever told you the story of Daedlin the Daring?”

“No,” she said, a smile spreading on her face. They never spent so much time together – the thrill in her face was obvious. He cast another glance at the pounding door, and then he looked at his child.

“Daedlin the Daring was a proud, strong, noble dwarf. A Dark Iron, as Dark as a Dark Iron could be. He could forge an axe that could cleave a core hound in two, or an shield that could withstand the breath of fire that any dragon could muster. He was the strongest, most daring Dark Iron dwarf. And with his axe and shield he cleaved through countless orcs and their dragon minions. He was a hero. And yet he was unsatisfied.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Well, though he was strong, he was not strong enough. More orcs and dragons came to the mountain. They killed many dwarves, so many that there became a great risk to the mountain. Why, if the orcs could not be stopped, perhaps they would invade Shadowforge City! Perhaps they would slay the Emperor, and all that lived underneath him! No one would be safe. And no matter how many battles he won, no matter how many foes he cleaved in two, Daedlin seemed to barely dent the enemy.”

“So what did he do?” He had caught her attention, keeping it away from the pounding at the door.

“Well one day, he sank into a great pit of despair. What good were his forge skills, what matter was his fighting prowess, if his entire life and those around him fell to the hands of orcs? He promised the people that he would keep them safe from this new threat, and yet the orc forces slaughtered more of his kin. So he prayed. He prayed to anyone that could hear him, anyone that would listen. If only he had the strength of a hundred dwarves – perhaps that would be enough to save the mountain! And so, one day, when all hope seemed to be lost, there was a flash as bright as any flame, and out stepped a being clothed in fire.”

“What was it?” Aggie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Daedlin did not know,” Umbros continued. “But the being stepped before him, and instantly Daedlin knew that this being had so much power. And so the being introduced himself as Braxxus, and said that he could help Daedlin, but only if Daedlin was willing to pay a price.”

“How come Brackus couldn’t just fight the orcs?” Aggie asked. Umbros looked down at her.

“Braxxus,” he corrected her. “And Daedlin asked just that. But Braxxus could not just give Daedlin power. That would defeat the purpose – to gain strength, one must sacrifice time, and energy, to train and grow stronger. And so to gain more power, power to defeat his foes, Daedlin would have to sacrifice in order to protect his people.”

Umbros had Aggie’s full attention, so much so that she did not notice the wood of the doors beginning to splinter. They wouldn’t have much time - the doors were falling faster than Umbros anticipated. But he kept talking, because having the girl fearful would not benefit either of them.

“So Braxxus held out a hand. There was another, smaller fire, and from the fire Braxxus formed an image of Daedlin wearing a powerful set of armor. It was not metal, like Daedlin was used to, but it radiated power. It glowed green with energy, energy with which he could burn away the orcs and the dragons that assailed the mountain. It had great horns, such that the sight of him would strike terror in any enemy. It was cloth, and yet it was more powerful than the strongest metal armor a Dark Iron could ever forge.”

“Wow,” Aggie breathed.

“Indeed,” Umbros said. “Braxxus called it the Regalia of the Betrayer. Named after one of the most powerful beings to ever walk the lands. His name was Illidan Stormrage. And like Daedlin, Illidan was someone who did not have enough power to fight the many foes that threatened his people. And, like Daedlin, he made a hard choice to sacrifice much of himself to gain the power needed to vanquish those foes.”

“He must have been very brave,” Aggie said.

“Correct,” Umbros said. “He betrayed his people and their ideas to gain such a power. And with it, he became a mighty enemy to those who would threaten them. His friends and family may not have understood his sacrifice, but it was made for the greater good.”

“Did he save his people?”

“He certainly did.”

“So what did Daedlin do?”

“I’m getting to that,” Umbros said, tapping the girl on the nose. A loud thud hit the door, and the wood splintered so loudly that Aggie couldn’t help but notice. She let out a little squeak. Umbros set a hand on the girl’s hand.

“They’re coming in!”

“Not yet,” he said. He looked down at his daughter, and for a moment an unexpected, wistful pang touched his heart. She was so wrapped up in the story, not because it was so very interesting to a child, but because he was telling it. He commanded such power over her, and her attention, that he wondered what else he could teach her? He felt a pang of regret that he did not spend more time with her. She held such potential, and yet here they were, with the enemy at their doorsteps. She looked at the door, and then back at him.

“So what happened next?”

The question caught him offguard. He was sure that Aggie would be too afraid to want to continue.

“You are not afraid?”

“You promised to keep me safe,” she said. The fear was still there – her eyes betrayed her – but she trusted him. Umbros gently rested a hand upon her head, his fingertips tracing the braids of her hair.

“That I did,” Umbros said. He turned his eyes towards the door.

“Braxxus showed Daedlin the possible future. In the palm of his hands, Daedlin wore the Regalia and blazed through countless orcs and dragons. The Dark Irons held the mountain, and in so doing preserved their strength, their safety, and ultimately their lives. He offered the possibility to save the Dark Iron people. But afterwards, when the fighting was done, he would have to live alone. He had a choice to make, whether or not to accept the Regalia and the burden with which it came.”

“And did he?”

Umbros kept his gaze towards the door. The screams and shouts from outside reached a crescendo. They must have begun prying at the hinges, because the metal groaned with the strain. His nose flared.

“No, he did not,” Umbros said.

“Why?”

“Daedlin was too proud,” Umbros responded. “He cared more for his reputation. He liked that he was loved, and put his reputation above his duty. He turned down Braxxus’s offer, and refused the Regalia.”

“So then what happened?”

“The orcs and dragons kept coming. They came in waves, with powerful magic and powerful weapons. No matter how many stone creations the Dark Iron armies created, the orcs and their army breached the mountain. They took the upper portion of the mountain, so that their dragons could fly in and out. And so the Dark Irons had to live at the bottom, and under the mountain. In constant war with the orcs.”

The doors let out another mighty crack – wood chips splintering and flying into the hall. Aggie let out a little shriek, burying her tiny head in Umbros’s robes. He could hear the yells from outside, clearly bolstered by their success. Umbros narrowed his eyes. That it came to this – it did not have to come to this.

“And what happened to Daedlin?” Aggie asked, her voice muffled in her robes.

“He was powerful, and strong. But instead of making the right choice, he relied upon his own strength. It was his pride that fueled him, and by pride he was defeated. He fell in battle against the orcs, who had grown far too many for him to overcome. And the reward for his loyalty? The Dark Irons left his body as they fled in panic. Legend says that he was alive when he was chewed upon by a black dragon, and the orcs cheered as Daedlin screamed. Imagine. A dwarf hero, honored by being food to those that hoped to conquer the mountain.”

“That’s awful,” she said.

“Indeed. But it is a lesson for us all. That sometimes we must make sacrifices, great and small, to achieve the power necessary to do what needs to be done. Or else it will be much too late.”

Aggie did not respond. She turned her head to the door, watching it shake and crumble, piece by piece. Umbros felt her grow still in his lap. It was much for her, perhaps too much for so young a mind. But life hands out lessons regardless of whether one is ready. It was the way of the world, and his daughter was not exempt to it.

“Will they feed us to the dragons?”

The question came softly. She sounded more resigned than afraid. Umbros looked down at his daughter.

“Who?”

“The orcs.”

The doors buckled inward. The voices outside grew louder.

“Of course not,” Umbros replied. “I would never let that happen.”

“You wouldn’t?” she looked up at him.

“No daughter of mine will be fed to a dragon, so long as I’m alive,” Umbros said, looking down at her. “And I plan on being alive for a long time.”

“You promise?” she asked.

“I promise,” he said. He put a hand on her face, and she nuzzled against it. He
drank her in, the sight of her. The little thing haunted his life for five years, and he was only now really acknowledging her as more than just a burden. He smiled, a gesture unnatural to so hard a dwarf, breaking his gaze and returning it to the door. And then, without hesitation, he placed another hand behind her head and twisted, snapping her neck.

Aggie’s body fell lifeless in his. Without another word, he stood up and moved to the center of the table. He lay her body there, her sweet head turned at an odd angle. After a wave of his hand, and several candles appeared atop the table. He flicked his hand again, and the candles lit a fel green.

“So it is done,” he whispered. A great flame erupted on the other side of the table. And striding through the flame was an Eredar, wreathed in flame. Braxxus’s pitiless, demonic eyes took one glance at the dead girl, and then at Umbros.

“I’ve done what you asked,” Umbros said.

“You have the payment?”

“Yes,” Umbros said. The Dark Iron dwarf moved from the table and over to the pile. He gripped a rough hand on the drape, and then pulled. The cloth slid over the piled bodies of at least ten Dark Iron children. All of them had looks of horror transfixed upon their faces.

“You have done well,” Braxxus boomed. “More than what was required.”

“Overpayment is safer than underpayment,” Umbros replied.

“So your betrayal of your people is complete,” Braxxus said. “And the betrayal of your own kin?”

Umbros turned, sweeping his cloak behind him. He held out a hand and gestured towards Aggie. Braxxus stepped forward, leaning close. His nostrils flared, and he took in a deep breath.

“Not a hint of fear on her,” Braxxus said.

“I promised to keep her safe,” Umbros responded.

“And she believed you,” the demon replied, letting out a chuckle. “I am surprised your wife allowed you to do this.”

“She allows me nothing,” Umbros hissed. “I do what I want.”

“Indeed,” Braxxus said, smiling with malevolence. “You have done well. These will do nicely.” He made a move to pick up Aggie’s body, but then Umbros lifted a finger.

“Just a second. I’ve done what you asked. I’ve betrayed everyone. And I gave you what you want. I want my prize.”

“The Betrayer’s Regalia,” Braxxus said, nodding.. He waved a hand, and an image of the armor appeared above his hand in a burst of flame, spinning so that Umbros could relish in every detail. “Inspired and infused with the power of its namesake, Illidan the Betrayer. You have paid a great price for such a reward.”

“A great reward. I want its power.”

“Clearly,” Braxxus said, holding out a hand. The image of the armor flickered and shifted. It showed Umbros wearing the Regalia, his hands wreathed in fel flame. The dwarf nearly moaned with longing. “It would greatly augment your own considerable powers.”

“Yes,” he said, almost in a trance.

“And what would you do with such power, I wonder,” Braxxus responded. As if on cue, the pounding on the door filled the hall.

“I would slay my enemies,” Umbros snarled. “Give it to me.”

“For slaughter,” Braxxus said, alight with cold amusement. The front door crashed, the iron hinges screaming as they ripped from the wall. Light from the outside was pouring in.

“I do not have much time,” Umbros said. “They are coming.”

“Also obvious,” Braxxus said. “I see now why you are in such a rush. But alas, I cannot help you.”

“What? What do you mean?” Umbros yelled. “I have paid your price.”

“Not quite yet. You have betrayed, and betrayed very thoroughly,” Braxxus replied with a smile. “But you forget a key component of Illidan’s story, one that sealed his own lust for power. He was betrayed, in turn, for his assumption to greater power. And he was imprisoned for thousands of years.”

“Give to me, I demand it,” Umbros said, his own hands swirling with shadow. The demon merely laughed.

“You will suffer this betrayal, and suffer it well. Then, only when you are freed from shackles, as Illidan was freed - perhaps you can assume his mantle. But until then, you have much to pay for.”

“I need it!” Umbros screamed. He made to cast a spell, but it was too late – Braxxus and the pile of bodies disappeared in a burst of flame, just in time for the front door to come to a resounding crash. Light spilled into the hall. Umbros turned in time to see the mob of angry Dark Iron dwaves fill his hall. At the front of the charge was Lady Mags.

“Where is she?” the Lady shrieked, storming in with the crowd at her back. But Umbros barely heard her over his own, insane screams.

“I EARNED IT! YOU BLASTED DEMON GIVE ME WHAT I WANT!”

He bellowed, and bellowed, ignoring how his wife, his Lady Mags, whisked passed him and reached their daughter. There was no room in his mind for her anguished screams, the terrible depths of her grief as she cradled her small daughter. Nor was there any consideration given to why Braxxus left his daughter behind. Perhaps to make it worse for him. The only thing that Umbros had in his mind was the image of that armor,, the armor that would have allowed him to incinerate every dwarf that now befouled his hall, and the burning rage towards the demon that had betrayed him.

“YOU MONSTER!” Lady Mags shrieked, storming over and slapping Umbros so hard across the face that he could feel his lip split. He tasted blood. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS!”

Several armored dwarves stepped forward, slapping shackles around his hands. Glittering green runes danced along the metal – these were designed to keep him from spell casting.

“To gain power,” he snarled at his wife. “And I’ll have it. None will deny me.”

“You’re insane,” she said, her tears a horrible mix of grief and anger. He smiled, his own rage burning inside of him, the blood caking his lips red. “That was your daughter.”

The guards held him. He could tell his wife wanted some sort of explanation.

“She was no more than currency,” he said to her, meeting her eyes. “I would pay with her life again if given the choice.”

The answer brought another sob out of the Lady Mags.

“You’ll rot in a jail cell, a lifetime for each child you killed. You’ll rot until the Makers come for you.”

“I’m counting on it,” Umbros said. “And when I get out, and have what I’ve paid for, I’ll make sure you’re the one bleeding when it’s over.”

“Take it away,” Lady Mags said. She turned her attention back to her daughter, and wept. As the guards pulled him through the hall, he could barely hear the taunts, the angry jeers, the upset shouts of the crowd. They spit on him as he passed. He smiled through it all. When they reached the outside of the hall, one of the guards slipped a burlap sack over his head, plunging him into darkness. His eyes could see nothing, but in his mind one image flickered into view, as clear as day. It was him, wreathed in fel fire, sporting the regalia that would allow him to purge Blackrock Mountain of weakness, and give him immeasurable power.

It would cost him many years. But the Dark Thane Umbros, the betrayer of Blackrock Mountain, would wait for his prize.

((Good luck to all the others, and to those thinking about it, POST! SHARE YOUR STORIES! MOAR!))

02/13/2014 08:08 AMPosted by Osthur

02/12/2014 05:00 PMPosted by Teneb

...

But you still have to deal with my crazy during the run ;D so it works out!

You clearly have not dealt with MY crazy on mumble during a run!

Fairly belated but, he's right. I think he has you beat Teneb.

02/11/2014 09:56 AMPosted by Ravenblack

02/11/2014 07:51 AMPosted by Lerrielin

Come on folks, time's a-ticking!!

Since we're going to be merging soon with Sisters of Elune before the contest deadline of 3/3/14, SoE entries are welcome as well!

I was going to wait until I actually got to the required materials (I'm still working up to it) but here ya go!
[Story Collection] Raven's Grimoire: http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/11674227517
It's fairly long as is, so you're welcome to start working your way through it. I'll be posting on it almost everyday. I am getting closer to meeting the requirements, so stay tuned :D

Ok, to be fair to Warcraftier, start on page 2, post #23 in the link above. This is when the story begins to point toward her quest for the Challenge Gear. The "why" and "how" are starting to develop. :D

Ok, to be fair to Warcraftier, start on page 2, post #23 in the link above. This is when the story begins to point toward her quest for the Challenge Gear. The "why" and "how" are starting to develop. :D

Post #50 in my thread: http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/11674227517?page=3 pretty well wraps up what you asked for. Everything afterward is gravy :)

Happy Birthday Ty!!!!

^ Almost six months late.

Hello. Here is my entry for the contest.

Lazrot stared at the void orb in front of him while thinking thoughts of freedom, slavery and betrayal.

“You have no legendary weapons, no objects of great power…why do you need a containment for one?”

Running her hand over the cold, smooth surface of the shadow box, Yaegher smiled, “How do you know I don’t?”

Raising his eyes he stared at the young warlock. After a considerable gap of time she had finally asked for his assistance again but, he sensed no great power fluctuations other than the void orb she had her hand on.

The imp considered Yaegher once again. A driven warlock, by what he wasn’t quite sure. She was different from others of her type he had known. Warlocks usually just enslaved whatever beings they could from the Twisting Nether. No different, personally, than the vast armies of the Burning Legion. At least from an imp’s perspective. Not so with Yaegher. She always sought partners.

Hence Lazrot’s thoughts of freedom, slavery and betrayal. He knew she had banished and even killed servants of the Burning Legion but, over time had managed to find a handful of others from the Twisting Nether to willingly work with her. Lazrot was one.

Well kind of. He was actually working for the Legion. Not a slave perhaps; he worked with them out of fear. Death or slavery the only other options. Then he met Yaegher. Of course his job was to corrupt her. Get her to willingly join or become enslaved to the Burning Legion.

But she hadn’t tried to control him. In fact, she offered to free him if he was enslaved. She was looking for willing partners. Partners! Can you imagine?

The wave of the Burning Legion had crashed onto the rock of Azeroth and, for first time ever, was stopped. Yaegher believed the wise-people of her world, that the Legion would return, a thousandfold, to smash the little world that dared stand against them. Yaegher not only wanted to oppose them but, to roll them back and free other worlds.

Lazrot raised a flame-flickering brow, “Has something happened while I’ve been gone?”

She nodded, “Could you expand the void a little while I transfer something? Wouldn’t want to get caught now.”

Lazrot swirled his hands, catching the foaming edges of the void in his claws and pulling it outward.

Yaegher knelt down by the old wooden chest at the end of her unkempt bed and unlocked it with a key from around her neck. Prying with her delicate fingers she removed the false top inside the lid of the chest and detached a small, smooth black cube. Another shadow box, Lazrot could tell but, it had an object of power inside since there was no void orb to sense. Meaning it was actively hiding something, unlike the larger, empty shadow box.

Yaegher stood and opened the lid of the larger shadow box, making the void orb that Lazrot was extending bubble in and out as it adjusted.

Inside was a full suit of what appeared to be padded cloth armor. It looked competently made but, was not very ornate. Lazrot only notice a few features to it. A small indent on the toe of each boot, a strange scallop at the back of each ankle, an intriguing curve on each shoulder, an empty clasp at the neck and, the most noticable, a small pair of straight spikes on the head peice. Looking closer, Lazrot noticed something odd about some of the threadwork…something familiar.

Then Yaegher opened the small shadow box and he was almost blinded by what he saw, even though it was still half contained in the small box and inside the orb of the larger box.

He could tell what it was right away but, he had never seen anything like it. It was a small, roughly cut soul stone. But a soul stone of such magnificent power as to be almost astrally blinding.

“Where did you get that?”

“I made it,” Yaegher said.

“No, not the armor, that - - soul stone!”

Her eyes seemed to glint, even through the glow of the stone, “I made it. I’ve spent most of my life making it.”

“Lazrot squinted, “For what reason? And who’s soul is inside it to make it glow so?”

Yaegher ran her fingertips lightly over the soul stone, then gently lifted it out of its box, “It has no soul in it at the moment. Just some essences and a connection. A connection I worked very hard to make.” Tossing the small shadow box onto her bed, she then gently affixed the soul stone to the neck clasp on the armor.

Lazrot gaped as energy from the stone streamed through the threadwork, filling the armor, making it pulse and grow. And change shape. The boots became cloven hooves and the legs bent like a goat’s legs. From the shoulders shadowy wings folded around the length of the armor. And the small pointed spikes - they grew. Grew and thickened and curved into great demonic horns. And the threadwork…the strange threadwork curved and angled into thick demonic lines.

cont.

Wide-eyed, Lazrot licked his lips, “Okay…tell me about the armor.”

“The armor is special,” she said, “I had to travel all over Pandaria to get all the pure materials to construct it.”

“Why Pandaria?” Lazrot looked at her curiously.

“Because Pandaria was protected by the Mists when the Legion invaded. Only there could I get unfeltainted materials. And it was hard. I had a handful of people help me but, even they don’t know what I was doing.” Yaegher closed the lid of the coffin-like shadow box and, all that power and the void orb disappeared, hiding whatever it was from any type of sight.

“The armor…that looked like Illidan.”

Yeagher’s gaze burned into Lazrot, “We need him back.”

The implications of Illidan returning staggered Lazrot, as a servant of the Burning Legion but, more surprising to him was what exactly it was that this warlock had done. He chewed his lip as he framed his thoughts.

“How can a soul stone have no soul? If it doesn’t contain the soul of Illidan, what is it?”

“It’s a soul stone. It’s just not finished yet.”

Yaegher sighed and sat on the bed, her back against the headboard, and patted the mattress beside her. Lazrot took the invitation and hopped up and sat down beside her, careful to keep his flames from the blankets.

“The first thing I wanted to work on as a warlock was soul stoning. When I finally understood it, I wanted better. I learned that by casting the spell continuously over and over, while altering my casting path to align with the new astral eddies created with the previous cast, I could create soul stones of extended duration. Eventually, I could create one that made the eddies flow to it, so I could cast normally and even less over time. A sustaining soul stone that I just had to power up occasionally, extending its duration to longer and longer times.”

“But,” Lazrot interrupted, “what about…I mean, how did you-“

“Let me finish. We can go over the art and science of it another time. After all this work to get this far, I’m tired and in need of a good rest,” she slid down the bed until she was fully reclined with her arms behind her head.

“The key to maintaining a soul stone over long periods, is just the essence of a person. That will keep the stone from dissipating right away. It’s the force of a soul that actually makes it hard to keep a soul stone around for a long time. Anyway, obviously I’ve collected the essences of Illidan. I went all over Azeroth doing that. All the places he used his powers, where he lived and fought.”

Lazrot jumped up, bouncing on the bed, “But the connection, that’s the important part! He’s been dead for years and you’d need him living to -“

“Yes that was difficult,” Yaegher yawned,”I was very lucky with that. I needed to get close enough to touch Illidan, but the only way that could happen would be to travel to the past, and the dragons would never allow that. Well, they would but, I certainly couldn’t cast that part of my soul stone spell under their supervision.”

Lazrot nodded, “That must have seemed almost tragic when the dragons requested aid to go back to the time of the Well of Eternity to secure the Dragon Soul. You could have touched Illidan there, but the dragons wouldn’t have permitted any timeline where you cast that spell on Illidan.”

Nodding slowly in return she continued, “So, I needed a physical connection from my time to Illidan’s time. One with temporal disturbances at both ends at the time of connection.”

Lazrot rubbed his chin, “That’s why you’ve done so much studying at the Caverns of Time.”

“Exactly. Once you become a fixture someplace, people forget about you and you eventually overhear things. It was actually the Cataclysm that gave me my opportunity. Through helping the dragons get the Dragon Soul from the time of the original Well of Eternity, I learned the exact time and place Illidan put his hand in the Well.”

“But you couldn’t have cast your spell then, not-“

“Not with the dragons watching us, no. But, it gave me the information I needed. Once back, I went to Hyjal and the new Well of Eternity. The Cataclysm had the guards protecting Ysera and fighting off the elemental invaders. And Ysera’s attention was focused on helping the Nature spirits return.”

Lazrot cocked his head, “Why there?”

“Because the dragons had sent others back in time to Hyjal to protect the World Tree from Archimonde.”

“Ah, I see! It was now a place of temporal disturbance.”

“Yes. And using the new Well of Eternity’s waters as a direct physical link to the original Well’s waters, and the temporal disturbances at both locations, I was able to piggyback my spell and actually touch Illidan’s hand through the waters, completing the connection to the stone.”

fin.

Grinning excitedly, Lazrot rubbed his hands together, “And with all the arcane, elemental, fel, natural and temporal energies flowing around, it totally obscured what you did. Clever girl.”

“Now I had the first half of my plan complete.”

Tilting his head Lazrot pursed his lips, “Hmm, now you need to cast the second half of the soul stone spell. The essences of Illidan you obviously had flow into the armor, and the stone and armor are connected but, I’m not sure I see a way to-“

“Because I need a life-force for the spell,” Yaegher said, her eyes closed but, her brow furrowed at being interrupted again, “I need to fool the spell when I cast the last half, and so I need a life force with the essences to be able to cast the spell.”

Lazrot slowly sat down as the implications of what she said dawned on him, “Oh I see. The essences in the armor are to disguise your life force as Illidan’s when you cast the spell. Wait, that won’t work. You’d need to-“

Yaegher yawned again, “Yes I know, if i cast the spell the stone would be attuned to Illidan but, still take my soul. The way I’m going to cast the spell will have a delay built into it, just like-“

“Just like when you cast it on an already dead person to rez them! There is a delay built into it because it’s not a ressurection spell, it’s just that most everybody uses it immediately, Oh my, that’s just wonderful.”

Yaegher sighed contentedly, and snuggled further into the thick covers of the bed. Lazrot smiled as he tapped his chin and thought more about it.

“Hmm. It’s really good but, I don’t see how you’re going to pull it off.”

Yaegher mumbled as she turned her head, eyes still closed.

“Huh?” Lazrot replied.

“What do you mean?” she sighed sleepily.

“Well the problem is in the end. You attune the stone to Illidan but, for it to go off it needs to be near him when he dies. He died years ago at the Black Temple. It’s a lost cause. All this magnificent work for nothing.”

Stretching, and burying her head in a pillow, Yaegher dreamily whispered, “It would be if the dragons weren’t whispering about traveling back in time to Outlands, when it was still Draenor.”

Lazrot’s jaw dropped, “Oh my goodness! You go back in time to the Black Temple, before it was the Black Temple. Go to the top, put on the armor, and cast the spell. The stone attunes itself to Illidan. You hide the self sustaining soul stone, and the stone just sits there and waits for Illidan to die, and then it goes off. Oh my that is bloody brilliant. It’s beautiful! It’s-“

He looked across the bed at the now sleeping form. Once again his mind turned to thoughts of freedom, slavery and betrayal. Lazrot smiled a jagged, toothy grin, his flames bristling excitedly. This girl might just be worth betraying the Legion.

AAAAAAAAAAND IT'S THE THIRD OF MARCH! :O

Get those last minute entries in before midnight server!

Bump!
...so as not to be forgotten :D

I admit I wonder what's become of this too, but I didn't want to be the one to bump it. :D

Sorry for the hold-up guys, it definitely isn't forgotten! We have to figure out some logistics and with being WTFROFLSTOMPed by RL at the same time, we've been slow. ;_;

How TURN the tides of POWER

Be it THOU, who has been STOMP'D?!

03/18/2014 08:35 AMPosted by Lerrielin

We have to figure out some logistics and with being WTFROFLSTOMPed by RL at the same time, we've been slow. ;_;

WTFROFLSTOMPed, eh? So that explains the crater in Stormwind's streets this morning...

Aw man... it's an Alliance only thing.

*sigh*

Guess I'll go back to my mud hut in Orgrimmar and eat more rocks.