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The Ol' Switcheroo

Henii's picture


The day had been going so well. Henii was there in her private room, laying stretched out in thin silks across her lovely chaise lounge. The bright afternoon sun poured in through the bay windows, warming her body to a pleasantly comfortable temperature while she dozed. Now she was sitting up, dumbstruck, by the dragon spirit who appeared at her side with a peculiar suggestion.

Operation I.V.I.: Incident Very Inconvenient

Seler's picture


[Alynore] Jumbled

Lirriel's picture


It seemed impossible, huddled in this little outpost tower north of the ruins. Arcane radiation interfered with the guild stone communications, but many Dragoons were making their check-ins and heading to the rendezvous.

Nore watched Wes sleep next to the solid ghost of his worg. She still wasn’t sure that the ghost wasn’t a temporary construct from the excessive energies still crackling through the air, a shared hallucination formed into a symbol of shared loss and pain.

She hoped that Reave was back permanently. It would break Wes’ heart to lose the worg again. Especially since they still weren’t sure of Skipper’s fate; the foul-mouthed parrot hadn’t been seen since Northwatch.

And a Hard Place

Linu Theillos's picture

Linu felt the thrill of victory in her heart and heard it as a deafening roar rising up from Theramore’s defenders.

Losing Patience

Darlain's picture


[Rhianon] Driftwood

Rhianon's picture

Swords cannot slash doubt. Armor cannot deflect hatred.

The city was silent.

Rhianon watched as the ships came into the harbor, their faint lights flickering against the leaping waves. She watched as they were moored to the docks and soldiers marched off. Their voices were low and their eyes darted from ship to shore and then back again. She watched them gather on the docks, walking aimlessly between sea and city. And then she walked home.

They had returned a candlemark or two earlier, and she was the only one who had broken off from the group, tired of the discussions. There would be a calm for now, however shaky, but talks kept edging towards the future. Everything that had seemed so shifting and vague earlier in the day had condensed into a reality that almost seemed unbelievable. Beneath every comment, every word, Rhianon could sense the unspoken question.

Was this really happening? No - had this really happened?

Bastion and Blackwing, t11 content, Sunday September 23, 6:00-9:00 PM

Drogar's picture

That's right, our last raid of cataclysm will be this sunday, hitting ye olde t11 content. Come enjoy the glory that was Nefarian and Cho'gall!


[Daevra] Held Breath Moment

Lirriel's picture

The stormy winds calm as the western sky brightens. The sun is a molten gold disk, merging into the red and orange horizon, reflected by the ocean waters. Waves rise and fall, as steady as a heartbeat.

As steady as the drum beats echoing in my memories of shattered pink crystals, silvery forests filled with smoke, the cold haze of the marsh where we huddled, trying to live while waiting to die.

[Aerella] Northern Hunt, Part II

Lirriel's picture

((Continuing from here))

Into the Jungle

The afternoon sun finally appeared over Sholazar Basin, light splashing through the thick green canopy. Rainwater caught on plants and stones sparkled. Aerella was already saddle-sore; her guide had decided they could leave the Nesingwary camp once the rain had gone from torrential downpour to light misting earlier that morning. They followed an ancient road winding along the south rim of the valley toward the broken Lifeblood Pillar.

Linu: Hard Choices

Linu Theillos's picture

Linu stood out on her balcony in the cold dead of the night, staring down at the cityscape below that was lit with the magical lamps that lined the streets.


Henii's picture

In the distance, smoke and ash filled the twilight sky as one more Draenai town succumbed to the mad orchish onslaught. The villagers who so valiantly tried to defend their homes and lives fell to cruel axes, their mutilated bodies a testament to the orc's fel-infused brutality.


All but one.

The Final Dragon Soul, Saturday September 15, 7:00 PM

Drogar's picture

This is it folks, our last foray to dragon soul. Next week will be a final look at tier 11.

[Dolraan] What's in a Name?

Drogar's picture

"Lovely day, Crusader. I'd forgotten how muggy Stormwind got." Commander Kunz took a sip of his drink, some sort of tropical juice, and adjusted his uniform for the seventh time since he'd arrived in Stormwind. "Quite a different climate from Hearthglen."

"You get used to it, sir." Dolraan replied, nursing a glass of ice water and eyeing the open field just outside the Blue Recluse. "There's a reason most people down here wear loose clothes. The humidity is good for the skin, I'm told."

[Rhianon] Even Though We Walk into Darkness

Rhianon's picture

The Pig and Whistle bustled with late morning traffic when Rhianon ducked in through its rickety wooden doors, the tavern’s daily bread order weighing down her arms. Tired adventurers were swapping tales over steaming bowls of porridge and local merchants were finishing up an early lunch of soup and bread before the afternoon rush. The barkeep, busy wiping down the counters and organizing glasses, waved at Rhianon.

“Just hold there a moment, girl, and I’ll call for the kitchen help to take the loaves. Are we paid up today or do we owe you anything?”

Saturday Dragon Soul, September 8th, 7:00 PM

Drogar's picture

We would be ever so pleased if you could join us.