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Arkav's picture

Friends on the Other Side: The Loa

((For those who may have missed these lectures in the "Tales of Azeroth" series. While there are multiple speakers, Arkav focuses on the religions of Azeroth. Heavily edited to remove extra poses and convo; sorry!))

Curio

Several Months Ago

Dutaee's picture

When the Dead Awaken.

Time passed oddly in the spirit realm. Hours could pass in minutes, and seconds could last for years. It all depended upon the spirits sense of perception, on how closely they wished to examine the moment. Unbound by the confines of flesh, a spirit could live an eternity in a single moment, forever experiencing the subtle and wonderful details of that perfect scene. Dutaee was experiencing such a moment right now as he watched over his second wife.

Cyrena's picture

Arrival

Jol's picture

Dreaming

The stars are wrong here somehow, and there's a prickling in the back of my head. It's familiar, enticing, though I can't quite place it. It tugs at my mind, calling me north through the unfamiliar greenery where the village should have been.

I shake my head and wait for the buzzing to die down.

--

Time flows strangely. It's been minutes, but I'm as restless as if I've been here for hours.

I need to get moving. Need to run, stretch my legs.

Elaeryn's picture

The Drifter Serves

My mind wandered back to the week which had just passed:  a vivid image of members of various platoons from the 6th and 8th Farstrider Companies gathered on a rise in the Ghostlands, my shrewd gaze flicking over them from the shadows as my Sergeant-Major made the formation inspection, a grim grin of pride curving my face. With confirmation of the troll threat, the Farstriders were assigned to the Ghostlands in slowly increasing numbers and confidence, and I had been called to fulfill my duty as the rank of Ranger-Lord entailed, commander of the 2nd Farstrider Battalion.  

Se's picture

Shattered

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Jol's picture

Promises

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Jol's picture

Out Of Place

Asali's picture

Melting

Ryojin's picture

Frozen Wastes: Part 5

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Asali's picture

Wind Over Waves

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Dimetri Blaze's picture

Fizzy Fruit Wine

"If you could be a beverage, what would you be and why?"

You know, right when I was called down I knew I wasn't going to win. The woman they choose as the Bachelorette was pretty, for a troll, but just from looking at her I could tell she had the personality of someone I would not get along with; I don't generally get along with trolls unless in the darkness of a bedroom where we do not talk about anything. Still, I volunteered to participate, so I might as well play along and be honest.

Isardeth's picture

Back to what he does best.

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It was getting late and the Ranger-Major was sitting behind his well-organized desk in Silvermoon City. He was rubbing at his temples with his fingertips as he looked down at the various reports in from of him.

"So the Amani have been sighted outside of their normal confines..." he spoke softly to himself more so than his aide, a rather bookish looking female Lieutenant who was currently busying herself signing off his signature on the recent training figures he had already approved.

Ryojin's picture

Frozen Wastes: Part 4

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(( Though I didn't feel that this blog warrants an Explicit tag, I must warn those faint of heart that it is fairly descriptive in violence. If you'd rather not read that sort of thing, skip to Frozen Wastes: Part 5 that I will post in the near future. Happy reading! ))

Ryojin's picture

Frozen Wastes: Part 3

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Ryojin's picture

Frozen Wastes: Part 2

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"Yo," came the deep, yet squeaky voice. "You ready to go yet, or do I gotta wait another six years?"

Ryojin's picture

Frozen Wastes: Part 1

Scorched, crowded, and loud were all apt words to describe the bustling city of Orgrimmar. Races of every kind were hustling to their destinations, selling wares, buying wares, screaming obscenities, or any combination thereof. It was the perfect place to lose oneself. Ryo'jin honestly wished that was what he was here for. The truth of the matter was that he'd received a summons from none other than the Warchief of the Horde, someone Iloam had advised against refusing. Privately, he agreed, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Barasa's picture

Striking The Match

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He’s a star-lit boy, all bright-glowing and hot with the light of promise. Every morning he drapes himself over in responsibility and tradition, and tries to put the light out. He is afraid because he does not know what it means.

Rykka's picture

Shatterspear Shattered

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Dutaee's picture

Chained Treasures

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Ryojin's picture

Of Blood and Honor

Crisp, fresh air. The crackling embers of a small campfire. Three figures glaring balefully at one another. This was the nature of the job. Trust was a rare commodity amongst mercenaries, and these three were no exception. The night sky was fairly clear, stars shining brightly as if to help lost ones home.

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