World of Warcraft®

Previous thread: http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/1869217185?page=1#4

((Hey all. New week, new Writing Challenge. So far everyone who's posted their stories has impressed me quite a bit with their talent in writing. I remember one person in particular saying that they wanted to RP out the story that they'd written in-game. That's part of the fun of this, and a big part of what made it so successful on my old realm. I look forward to seeing what comes next.))

((Here's this week's subject: Overcoming the Odds))

((Now, I haven't actually been posting my own writing in these threads, and that's because I've recently run into some RL issues that required my attention, in addition to the standard in-game stuff. This week I hope to join in the fun.))

((Happy writing!))

EDIT: ((Letting this one continue on to Saturday before I post a new Challenge. From there, I will post new challenges every Saturday. Just a personal preference on my part to update on weekends (and so I can cheat and still fulfill my promise to post my own writing here this time around :P). My apologies to those of you expecting a new thread today.))

The walls were coming down fast. Even sturdy Gilnean buildings only held up so well against a seemingly endless torrent of rabid worgen beating on them.

"Damnit," muttered Barric Tymerlain, scooping up books and notes and stuffing them into a large canvas bag. All these years of hard work were about to go up in flames. Literally.

"Lydia's gone," his assistant, James Rettison, gasped out as he burst through the door.

"Gone? What do you mean, g-"

The back window exploded in a shower of glass and fur. A snarling worgen tore threw, lunging straight for Rettison's throat. The poor man screamed as the beast's claws and teeth ripped into him.

Trying to ignore the pain of the glass stuck in his face and arms, Tymerlain scrabbled over the shards, pulling a pistol from his desk. Three sharp cracks fired from its mouth, landing squarely in the worgen's back. The beast crumpled to the ground, whimpering.

"Rettison!" Tymerlain hurried to his assistant's side. Rettison coughed up blood; his throat was mangled beyond repair. He grasped at Tymerlain's hand, eyes wide, and then his body went stiff.

A sharp bang at the front door made Tymerlain jump. "Damnit," he muttered again. Clearly, leaving that way was not an option.

Tymerlain grabbed the canvas bag, his pistol, and a bundle of explosives. Then, he struggled through the broken window.

The scene outside was more chaotic than he imagined. Worgen rampaged the streets. People ran screaming from their homes. Fires blazed everywhere.

Tymerlain shouldered the bag and ran, heading for the front gates. He ran as fast as his legs would take him, right up until the canal. A far deeper fear than that of dying brutally to worgen clutched him as he stared at the dirty, icy water.

You can do this, he told himself. You've exterminated giant spiders. You've killed ghosts. You've bloody well saved peoples' lives. It's just water, for Light's sake!

He glanced back to see a large and particularly ugly worgen hurtling towards him. Surely, dying to those drooling jaws would be worse than drowning.

He took a deep breath, threw his bag and gun across the canal, and dove into the water.

It began with the sound of a muffled explosion, followed by screaming. The telltale hissing of radioactive poison being pumped through the ventilation system would come later. And when it did, it would be too late for most of Gnomeregan.

Heavy sirens wailed overhead, rattling Nozz's teeth. For all the emergency drills she had participated in, there was no orderly evacuation this time, simply chaos. Nozz had enough presence of mind to find her way back to her bunk and retrieve the one precious thing she owned - her journal. As she fought her way to an exit, stumbling past torn, mutilated corpses and slick, greasy spots where flesh had melted from radiation exposure, she'd managed to also pick up a few pieces of protective gear. Enough to keep the air from burning her alive.

Fire, smoke, and blood. Everywhere. Death was everywhere. The screaming was the worst, a sound that pierced through the wailing wall created by the sirens, the sound of living things dying in most horrific, excrutiating ways.

Bewildered, Nozz and several others stumbled into the Clockwerk Run, only to be attacked by troggs spilling out from one of the side passages. In the ensuing melee, Nozz lost her journal. Armored gnomes and mech came from nowhere and bought them time to escape, but barely. It wasn't enough to save the unit itself from the number of troggs that swelled inside the Run - soon their screams echoed down the corridor that led to the great elevator and Aboveground.

Nozz had spent her entire life - decades - inside Gnomeregan, never once venturing outside. After what seemed like forever had passed, she now stood staring in wide-eyed shock at the snow-covered hills of Dun Morogh, while behind her, Gnomeregan died.

It was all gone.

Everything.

Gone.

Nozz shielded her eyes from the bright reflection of sunlight off snow, trembling with terror and not knowing where to go, convinced in that very moment she would never make it.



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


Quaerkagos' grating call roused Nozz out of her daydreaming. She looked up just in time to see the azure whelpling beginning to divebomb her. The gnome let out a combination screech and explosive barrage of vile Gnomish profanity that very well could have been heard in Hearthglen; the old weathered journal she'd been carrying flew straight up into the air as she tumbled head over heels, backwards. The journal bounced and landed in an open position, pages quickly turning to reveal ink that swirled with illusory magic, and past gruesome hand-inked drawings of elves in various stages of dissection.

"MALFOS! CALL OFF YOUR WHELPLING!"

Memories of the daydream still fresh in her mind, she gripped a handful of cleansed Plaguelands soil, as if in reminder of what she had now. Things lost, things gained, things lost again. And yet she still remained - older, a bit wiser, and far better off than if the disaster at Gnomeregan had never happened.

Nozz, still on her back, grinned and opened her left eye - the clockwork eye - giving a sapphire wink at Quaerkagos, who chirped back in return. She couldn't help but laugh.

It was a pretty sound.


[[edit: Once again, thank you for keeping roleplay to the public boards, it needs it. I've very much enjoyed participating in these.]]

((Have some low-level fluff odds~~ Though, I admit I was tempted to post something more serious, but then I'd have to use a character from a different server. Besides, Moreto is too cute not to write about!))

Moreto had finally managed to convince a bored Sin'dorei socialite that funding research into Kaldorei ruins would improve her standing and aid the war effort. She'd handed him a small stipend of gold and asked him to look into the Ruins of Stardust in Ashenvale because "they're so pretty".

Now, he found himself jumping off a wyvern at the Mor'shan Ramparts. He considered the situation. Alliance and Horde soldiers engaged in open war? Check. Field commanders trying to demand he go help kill people? Check. Artillery fire? Why no, there wasn't any after all. Things were looking up. He checked his map one last time, and adjusted his hat.

Making use of shrubbery and shade, he slipped past raging warriors and angry bears. The forest was cool and dark, and as he gained distance from the battle at the Ramparts, it became quiet. The sounds of creatures going about their day filled his ears. As long as it kept up like this, he could probably get all the way to the ruins without any tr-

The mad ravings of some...thing broke across the forest like thunder. Ah, that must be the fire lord he'd heard about. Well, he didn't need to go near there, no sense in getting set on fire if he could avoid it.

He approached the Ruins with caution. Recent experience in Mulgore and Silverpine had taught him that Azeroth was simply teeming with things that wanted to eat him. He paused, and surveyed the area from afar. Well, there were...dozens of plant elementals. Dozens. the roamed seemingly at random about the place.

"I could just return the gold", he thought. But no, that really wouldn't do. He shrugged his shoulders to release some tension, and continues forward. All he had to do was be careful. And run. He was good at running.

The moment he began working with his tools, an elemental growled and ran up, bark claws stretching toward him. Moreto let out a little yelp, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him, and spying a tree with some good footholds, scrambled up it. He waited for what seemed like an eternity while the elemental raged at the bottom before it finally gave up. The area clear once more, he let himself down gently. Well, sort of gently. Adrenaline is a useful chemical for increased agility, but it does get one in some rather sticky situations. He landed on the forest floor in a little heap of sc%*@!s and disheveled hair. Retrieving his hat from the ground, he considered his options. Return the gold, or get gouged by elementals and society in Silvermoon City. Not much of a choice, was it?

He snuck back to his tools, and chose a new spot to try working in. A new elemental tried to kill him this time, but he'd managed to make a little headway before that, so once he'd caught his breath and returned to the ruins, he went right back to it. As day turned to night and his reserves of energy began to run low, he made a little campfire in sight of the ruins. He dug around in his pack and found some root vegetables to roast. While they cooked, he went about checking the various cuts and bruises. His hands shook. He ignored that. When the vegetables were ready, he ate them with relish before retrieving a little lantern and returning to the ruins. He would not sleep until he had something to show for his efforts.

He wondered, for a moment, how other scholars handled these kinds of situations. Ah, right, Brann Bronzebeard and Belloc Brightblade would probably just kill all the elementals and then get to work. He sighed. And then he got back to work.