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Post by ferrousbuelr on Feb 14, 2012 15:03:51 GMT -5
Personal Journal (addendum, this same day) Darkshore is a scene of devastation and despair. This area bore the brunt of Deathwing's malice. The very sea itself rose and consumed much of what was here before. The settlement of Auberdine is no more and her people are scattered throughout the land. A makeshift settlement is emerging at Lor'dnel with frantic efforts to rescue those that may still be alive. The land is in turmoil as the elements battle for dominance. The wildlife has suffered badly. Many splinter groups are emerging bent on furthering the destruction. There is a lingering smell of corruption in the air. Our night elf allies remain resolute. I see their steadfast faces but I also sense how forlorn and near exhaustion many have become. How much suffering can a people take? I will help them the best I can. === originally posted 1/29/2012 us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/3966606644?page=24#478=== These last three posts were an attempt to fill out the still un-capped thread III. By the time these were posted, thread IV was well under way.
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Post by ferrousbuelr on Feb 14, 2012 15:08:02 GMT -5
Dear Uncle, My sincerest apologies for not having written to you for some time. When last I wrote, I was completing my tasks in Blood Watch culminating in that celebration attended by the Prophet Velen himself. Rest assured that I am keeping well and have some modicum of success in this quest I have chosen. Since that time, I have seen two other capital cities, along with the Exodar, that represent the Alliance our people have pledged to support. The Night Elf capital of Darnassus, with its tranquil glades speaks of peace and sadness. The human capital Stormwind is a bustling center of commerce, full of activity and urgency and promise. It has suffered from a direct assault by Deathwing itself. I have kept my dealing as brief as possible in Stormwind as the city's appeal was lost to me. My meeting with Hunter Wulf was less than satisfactory. However, Darnassus held me in rapt attention as I took time to fully explore the surrounding lands. I write you from the inn of Lor’danel in Darkshore. Auberdine, as you had described to me in times past, is gone, destroyed by cataclysmic forces that caused the sea to rise and take what had been here for thousands of years. There is much devastation and sadness here, and I have resolved to help in any way I can. Of some concern is the rumoured presence of Orcs, our ancestral enemies, far to the north. To the south and west are stories of cults and of maddened and corrupted wildlife that pose an ever present danger. The land itself is rent with great fissures, open wounds upon the once wooded land you had described in my youth. Into this land I step willingly. I must keep this post brief as more casualties from the disastrous wave have been found and need attending. The gift of the Naaru will be used well today. I end this post to you, uncle, with the warmest thoughts and regards. I remain, your nephew. Z === originally posted 1/29/2012 us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/3967848837?page=5#85
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Post by ferrousbuelr on Feb 14, 2012 15:08:55 GMT -5
Dear Uncle, My first week in Darkshore has been eventful. I helped our night elf allies with the heartbreaking task of rescuing the few survivors from the tsunami that struck their home and salvaging what little else is left. Too much has been lost. Too many have died. The funeral pyres seem to burn continually both night and day. Mixing with the smoke is the elf Song of Lament, mournful yet hopeful. Their sorrow reminds me of our people’s flight and all that we lost when we fled Draenor. Another hunter with some obvious ability mentioned to me of a creature that may be of tremendous interest to me. She proceeded to describe a feline creature that possessed the ability to bend light around itself rendering it practically invisible. Following her instructions, I journeyed north to where jumbled ruins lay being worked on by trolls and patrolled by night elves. I had no quarrel with the trolls and they none with me so we left each other be. After a bit of searching, I was able to find the object I was looking for: a small cat figurine, barely visible in the shadows of a tumbled column. Working quickly, I prepared myself as I whispered a short verse. The figurine transformed into a saber, sleepy looking at first but quickly gaining life and energy. Following what Hunter Shaniri taught me, I began a rhythmic hand motion drawing the animal’s attention and locking my eyes to his. The animal protested, sensing the battle of wills. I suffered many deep scratches as the animal clawed at me, resisting my will. Finally, it acquiesced. The air around its head glowed brightly for a moment, and then the glow was gone. As I bound my wounds with cloth, it circled me twice sniffing at me as the nearby trolls continued their pick work on the ruined stones. I sat down to be at the same level as the cat. I have never seen such a wondrous animal as this. It stared back at me, seemingly expecting an action from me. I reached out and rubbed its fur below the chin eliciting a contented growl as it vanished right before my eyes, like a ghost. It was then I knew what to call it. I have named him Prizrak, which I am sure, uncle, you will recognize to mean “ghost” in the old tongue. We have been companions since that day. Since joining me, Prizrak has been a remarkable companion; very capable in battle, amiable in company. He does have a tendency to disappear into the foliage at times prompting me to wonder if I had advertently dismissed him. At times, his aggressive nature draws more attention from the local wildlife than I would wish, but he responds quickly to commands given him. Yes, I see him and me traveling far and wide together for a very long time. We continue our tasks here, which are not unlike those completed in Bloodmyst Isle. I continue to test my skills against foes, some terrible, some not as so. In particular, I have encountered the rumoured Orcs as I freed night elf warriors kept as prisoners. I was not able to save one night elf in particular, but I was able to save another in time to warn the rest of the settlement. While doing so, I was able to exact revenge on the brutes. I took especial pleasure in dispatching the leader who displayed extreme cruelty on his prisoners. I have a feeling that this will not be the last time that I will battle Orcs. May I always vanquish our ancestral foes! I am making my way south towards the larger elf settlement at Astranaar in Ashenvale as I help in any way I can. There are stories of furbolgs in the forest having been corrupted by fel influences. I think back to my friends in the Stillpine tribe. How will they view me if I have to battle against other furbolg tribes? I will be on the lookout for other members of the Explorer’s League, whose members Prospector Nachlan back in Bloodmyst told me are operating somewhere in the area. I look forward to meeting them. I end this post to you, dear uncle, with the warmest thoughts and regards. I remain, your nephew. Z == TLDR. Tamed the ghost saber as is my tradition on all the hunter toons I play. The special ability boost will be helpful given the lack of item buffs. Taming beasts and being able to name them is one of the abilities that make it so much fun to play hunters. The story arc continues, slowly catching up to the present levels. (Welcome to all the new participants, and a shout of encouragement to all those already in!!) === originally posted 1/30/2012 us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/3967848837?page=7#127
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Post by ferrousbuelr on Feb 14, 2012 15:09:55 GMT -5
Personal Journal. Our support for the Alliance puts us at odds with the Horde. But are we truly so different that we immediately view the other as enemies? As I wreaked havoc among the brutes in the Orc village several days ago, part of me wondered will it always be thus. As Prizrak and I travel south, I could not help but wonder. Are there among the Horde that are also walking this very same path? Are my vows to remain humble and simple on this path the same as theirs? I've heard rumours of trolls, Forsaken, and even Blood Elves, whose mere mention causes my ire to rise, that have committed themselves to this path. Does sharing this path make us brethren under the skin? These questions make my head ache. It's best that I keep my mind focused on the tasks at hand. Much of the remaining work in Darkshore is well in hand. A new contingent has arrived to continue helping my night elf hosts. I'll make for Astranaar in the morning. The road is calling. == tldr. Am seriously considering rolling a Hordie to see how another class might work in this challenge. Of course, that would mean less leveling for both. Single? Multiple? Oy....! Is that my altoholism talking? == originally posted 1/30/2012 us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/3967848837?page=9#164
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Post by ferrousbuelr on Feb 14, 2012 15:11:58 GMT -5
Dear Uncle, Haven’t the people of this land learned from the lessons of the past? Ancient evils are best left buried and undisturbed. On my travels southward from Darkshore to Astranaar, I was asked to investigate a dig site where the Twilight Hammer faction is trying to unearth and summon one of the Old Gods, Soggoth the Slitherer. What madness is this! Fortunately, with the aid of the druids from the Grove of Ancients, I was able to greatly impede the progress made to bring such an abomination to life. As I recovered from my wounds after battling the Twilight Hammer, I was presented with more chances to help the surrounding land continue its recovery. With some effort, many of the nearby Blackwood Furbolg tribe were cleansed of their affliction brought to them by the fel satyrs. I must send word back to the chieftain of the Stillpine tribe as he had warned me of other furbolg tribes that may not be as welcoming as his. While exploring the eastern hills, I met Sentinel Aynasha, a night elf ambushed and injured by wayward furbolgs on her way to Lor’danel to deliver an important message. Barely able to stand from the poisoned wound she suffered, I defended her while she applied an antidote as wave after wave of furbolgs tried to reach us through a narrow defile. Making good use of the fire trap trick I recently learned from Hunter Shaniri, I was able to channel their attacks so their great numbers did not matter. Although injured, Aynasha aided our defense with her bow, expertly wielded, as she let loose shaft after unerring shaft into the charging furbolgs. Through the sounds of battle, I could hear her shouts. “One shot. One kill!” And she was seldom wrong. As we parted ways after the battle, she implored I speak with those at Maestra’s Post, just inside Ashenvale to tell them of her survival and her continued task to Lor’danel further north. Before I could say much more, she had disappeared into the thicket displaying an uncanny skill of movement and stealth. As I prepared to take my leave of the druids I had to repeatedly refuse their gifts of weapons and armor in order to stay true to my vow. However, their gift of gratitude and friendship is something I willingly take with me. I journeyed towards the shore after leaving the druids. That evening, I approached an encampment that serves as the base for three dwarven archeologists from the Explorer League that Prospector Nachlan, the dwarf I met while at Bloodwatch, mentioned I might meet during my travels in Darkshore. After our introductions, it was obvious that the younger two archeologists have a definite respect and admiration for the elder leader, Prospector Remtravel. What fine company these dwarves are. They shared their simple meal, with each bite punctuated with a strong pull from a skin of strong ale. Very soon we were sharing stories of adventures on the road, laughing uproariously into the night. They made me promise that if my travels ever take me to their beloved city, Ironforge in the Eastern Kingdoms, that I would visit their faction within the city. In the morning, as I promised the evening before, I proceeded to clear out the flooded dig of murlocs that have taken over the area after being displaced from their homes. This particular task proved a challenge as the murlocs were quite reluctant to leave. Many swarmed against me and insisted on trying to drown and eat me while I battled in the flooded dig site. Fortunately, I prevailed again but only after suffering deep wounds that needed several bandages to staunch the blood. Back at the camp, the dwarves looked on with interest noting how Draenai blood seems to glow blue in the daylight. We realized that the problem of murlocs occupying the dig site will continue despite any effort to evict them. Prospector Remtravel mentioned that he had written down an idea for a solution to this problem in his journal, but he seems to have forgotten where he had placed it. Sure that the journal was mistakenly left somewhere during his many exploratory walks, Prospector Remtravel asked me repeatedly, each time calling me by a different name, to accompany him in his search. I must say that our saying of “All who wander is not lost…,” may not apply to Remtravel. After half a day’s walk, we found ourselves back at our starting point, with the supposedly lost journal clearly visible on a nearby barrelhead. Junior Acheologist Ferd begged for my indulgence as he related his mentor’s past achievements and ongoing forgetfulness. The solution for the murloc problem involved one of substitution. Since the murlocs no longer have a home, why don’t we help them find another far from where we do not want them to be? With that in mind, I helped scour the shore for any salvageable debris that could be used to build a murloc shelter. Archeologist Groff had a site already defined on firm sand on a beach from the dig site as I gather the last bits of materials. The work felt good, different from my recent actions of violence and destruction. The day cleared to reveal a cerulean sky dotted with bits of white. As there was no immediate danger, I took this as a chance to shed my armor and work unimpeded. Prizrak sat far from the water’s edge, barely visible under the shade, with a puzzled look questioning why all this effort to build murloc hovels. Finally, the buildings were complete. I gathered my things to join Archeologist Groff under the shade. He and I wait in anticipation as the first murloc, and then another, and yet even more, approached the buildings. What curious creatures, these murlocs. I’ve since learned to ignore their comical gurgling, their way of communicating with each other. Singly, they pose very little threat, but in droves can certainly do great harm. I must always remember that despite their appearance, they are dangerous. Groff and I look back at the beach. Even more murlocs have gathered, seemingly admiring the buildings, hovels, really. To call them buildings gives more credit to the barely upright structures than they are worth. A worried look crossed Groff’s brow as we looked on at the ever expanding collection of murlocs. Seemingly adopting the idea, some have even begun to gather more materials to build more huts. The building activity grows amid a loud chorus of gurgling. Is that the sound of a happy murloc? Noting the ever increasing number of murlocs on the beach, I heard Groff mutter worriedly under his breath. “What have I done…” I clap him soundly on the shoulders. “Groff,” I stated heartily, “I think you just found your diggers for your next site!” He did not look amused as we headed back to camp. Astranaar calls, uncle, and I am answering her call. I will spend one more night with my newfound friends, the dwarves of the Explorer’s League, to then again to resume my travels. I end this post to you with the warmest thoughts and regards. I remain, your nephew. Z == TLDR. The quests with a built in story are the most satisfying. Take the time to read the text and enjoy the scenery. Go too fast and you’ll sure to miss some good stuff. Don’t agro too many murlocs, or bears, or furbolgs. == originally posted 2/3/2012 us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/3967848837?page=23#449
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Post by ferrousbuelr on Feb 20, 2012 14:43:43 GMT -5
An unsent letter, as read together to soothe our grief of our beloved’s passing.
Dear Uncle, One would hardly notice the boundary between Darkshore and Ashenvale. The shore trees slowly merge into their more towering cousins as the road moves further inland. It is not until you pass beneath the imposing gate by Orendil’s Retreat that you can truly say you have entered Ashenvale with her leafy glades and deep forests. It is here that I met Sentinal Shyela as I answered King Varian’s call to help repel invaders to this land. Already, I can hear faint rumblings of battle in the distance. Sheyela described her more immediate concerns. Horde apothecarists are harvesting materials that may be used for their plague weapons. Naga have invaded the western strands. And I was told of a small child that was in dire need of a special herb that may help her recover from a lingering illness. Stopping the Horde effort to gather war materials proved a straightforward task. Obviously not expecting much resistance, I was able to move among the undead gatherers as I chose whom to fight. Those that did fight threw vials filled with a vile substance that, when broken at my feet, coverd the ground with a sickly green liquid that made the ground sizzle. I quickly stepped away from the affected patch of ground as I continued my attack. The few Orc overseers that noticed my engagements were dispatched quickly. Along the way, I was able to find a vial filled with a fiery substance that put an end to an ancient’s suffering from having been held thrall by the Horde’s aggression. The naga continue to be difficult opponents. It was only with great care that I managed to avoid most of their number. I did not escape unscathed, however, as more than a few landed painful blows despite by best efforts to parry their attacks. Of special danger is their ability to throw bolts of frost that cause my blood and movements to slow. Had there been more naga nearby as I struggled to throw off the effects of their magic, I may not be writing this to you. Prizrak continued to protect me, and I him, as we battled to thin the naga numbers. Evernar Stilwhisper prepared the various materials I gathered into a bag for a quick delivery to his master, Orendil Broadleaf, further south from here at Maestra’s Post. I see Stilwhisper approaching as I finish this post to you, uncle. He tells me that the post is under attack and that I should be wary. I empty my bags to travel as light as possible. I sense a battle ahead. For now, I end this letter to you with the warmest thoughts and regards. I remain, your nephew. Z
originally posted 2/20/12 us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/4015202822?page=184#3678
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Post by ferrousbuelr on Feb 24, 2012 17:59:42 GMT -5
An unsent letter, as read together to soothe our grief of our beloved’s passing.
Dear Uncle, Maestra’s Post holds a strategic location in Ashenvale and the Horde know this. Upon my arrival there, I was immediately enlisted to help the besieged post. Amid the ongoing assault by a large contingent of Orc brutes backed by catapults and other siege engines, I could barely hear what Sentinel Onaeya was asking of me. As shells and other volatile projectiles exploded around us, she asked that I lead a small squad of sentinels against the attacking force and “take the fight to them.” I glanced at the field arrayed against us. What can a small squad do against such a large host? Although imposing, the Horde contingent was arrayed haphazardly allowing my squad of three hand-picked sentinels and me to move towards the weaker flank. With a target selected, I gave the signal to attack. Our quarry fell quickly underneath our concentrated fire. We employed this tactic repeatedly to great effect. The few Horde that took notice of their falling comrades were too enraged to realize the folly of charging into a prepared battery. They fell quickly, pierced through with sentinel arrows and Draenei bolts. As paths cleared, we assaulted the war engines in earnest. Before long, at least three were ablaze. Pausing in between each assault, I looked on with renewed respect at our night elf allies. Resolute in disaster, as shown by those I met in Darkshore. Resolute and skilled in battle, as readily displayed by this squad. Covered with dirt and splattered with Orc blood, we warily made our way through the lines back to Onaeya. The main attack has been broken giving a much needed reprieve to the defenders at Maestra’s Post. Later that evening, Sentinel Onaeya had another task for me, this one of stealth to recover the remains of two who fell when the Horde first attacked. Lending me her cloak that rendered me near invisible, I was able to move quickly and quietly through the Horde lines towards a tower that served as their leader’s headquarters. Although cloaked, I had to take care not to expose myself by a misstep by going too near a still smouldering wrecker or a sleeping invader. Prizrak’s natural ability to move stealthily proved useful once again as we made our way to the tower’s top to defeat the warlock there. With the main attack broken, I helped address the other salient threatening the post. Furbolgs have increased their activity as they descended from the eastern highlands and have massed at the nearby ruins. Their growing number is a definite threat and I knew what needed to be done. I can only hope the High Chief of the Stillpine clan back in Azuremyst Isle can forgive me for what I must do. It wasn’t until I was among them that I realized their madness is driven by something cultists at the ruins have uncovered: three moonstones that the Moon Priestess Maestra described to me. After days of hit-and-run battles, I was able to disperse the furbolgs and deactivate the moonstones effectively ending this threat to the post. It has now been a day since the end of the furbolg threat. Although the Horde army still is perched by the post, their will to fight seems to have been blunted. The post’s defenders seem to have new hope. Several offered me rewards that I could not possibly accept. However, I did accept the armorer’s offer to repair my armor that has taken quite a few blows in the last few days. The coin I offered for his services was quite reasonable. As I prepare to continue on my journey, Master Orendil seems to have more tasks for me: to find a missing scout and to apply some further enchantment to the collection of herbs I gathered while still at the retreat. But all that must wait as I finish this post to you, make sure Prizrak is quietly bedded for the evening, and for me to get some rest. For now, uncle, I end this letter to you with the warmest thoughts and regards. I remain, your nephew. Z
originally posted 2/24/12 us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/4015202822?page=210#4196
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Post by ferrousbuelr on Mar 2, 2012 18:47:23 GMT -5
An unsent letter, as read together to soothe our grief of our beloved’s passing.
Dear Uncle, Ashenvale remains a mysterious and dangerous place. It is here that I’ve first seen how much the land has been corrupted with tendrils that erupt from the ground, peaceful lakes now drained and full of mud, forest guardians that were once custodians now forced to defend their homes from encroaching evil. It is not enough that the Horde has plans to devastate Ashenvale. The land must also contend with long sleeping evils now loose. Upon departing from Maestra’s Post, I made my way to Lake Falathim to try and find a scout, Teronis, who has been missing for some time. Teronis was seeking a rumoured item that might slow the furbolg incursions. My senses filled with dread when Master Orendil mentioned that the item in question was created by a long dead evil wizard. Have we not learned from the lessons of the past? Items created by evil wizards, alive or long dead, can only result in malice and tragedy. I was not mistaken. As I approached the lake, or what is left of it, it is very apparent that some evil had taken over. Monstrous tendrils rise from the ground and wave their slimy trunks in the air. The ground itself feels soaked with something other than water. I moved cautiously keeping my distance from the many tendrils that look like they can easily lift me into the air and throw me some distance away. I was startled to see a forest keeper, a large centaur named Heartwise, standing atop a small hill in what would have been the middle of the lake. Our conversation was punctuated with him shouting taunts and threats to nearby tendrils, casting his powerful magicks to keep them at bay. He explained that he had found Teronis who, sadly, was killed by the evil around us. As quick search of his corpse revealed a journal that detailed his last few days before his fall. I think of my own journal and all that I’ve written there. Will someone retrieve it from my fallen body some day as I am doing now? Heartwise described how the area once looked. A large lake, full of life, and murlocs. Although ever dangerous, the murlocs kept to themselves instead of what is now around us. Tendrils, waving menacingly and further out, their leader, Harbinger Aphotic, a monstrosity with no apparent face and tentacles for arms, that kept exhorting the tendrils to move towards Heartwise and me. The forest keeper sensed my growing resolve. “Stranger,” he rumbled. “I will keep safe whom you found here, but I will ask that you help me rid the land of the corruption I can feel emerging from below us. Slay their leader. Let them know that their corruption has no place here.” I see him shift to one side, in obvious pain, trying to conceal a broken fetlock. It is a wonder he has held and defended this small hill for so long against the tendrils. I nod to myself slowly, then to the keeper. I feel Prizrak beside me, sensing his eagerness at another battle. I glance down to meet his stare, his skin blending seamlessly with the ground, a familiar growl building inside him. “Sharpen your claws, my friend. It looks like we have some work to do.” We moved as one attacking each tendril and tentacle in turn. Some resisted. All fell under the twin assault of bolt and claw. Defeated, each tendril would retract what was left of its appendage into the spongy ground. Again and again, we sent dozens to the ground. Off in the distance, we can hear Heartwise encouraging us as he held off more tendrils. Moving southward, we closed on Aphotic until he was within reach of claw and bow. Moving deliberately, Prizrak and I approached from two avenues, the cat striking fast and hard. At the same moment, three bolts were already on their way to strike the monster, one for each leg and the chest. The creature howled in pain and surprise. Our attacks were unrelenting. Several tendrils moved close to me but were stopped cold in their tracks by well placed shots that caused them to flail harmlessly. Always, I kept my eye on Prizrak and the monster, seeing both at once, anticipating the cat’s moves. Quickly stepping over fallen logs and splashing in the shallow water, I kept our lines of attack separate. The monster could not choose whom to attack, Prizrak or me, which gave us the advantage. With Prizrak striking low, and my bolts finding the throat and head, the creature was soon conquered. It fell, as a waterlogged tree, to slowly sink into the soft ground. We did not have time to celebrate as more tendrils emerged, and we had news to tell Keeper Heartwise. He greeted us with gratitude and offered us several rewards. He was puzzled at first why I refused his gifts but he came to understand when I explained the vow that I took. There are some things more important than rewards. We both turned to look at Teronis’ corpse. Here was a brave soul who risked his life and lost, to find something that would help his people. All that remains now is his journal. And the idea he gave his life for. I read the few legible pages and realized that what he was searching for may still be out in the field, among the tendrils, both still waving and pierced through with bolts. Prizrak and I made a quick survey of the many remains and found a gem described in the journal. As we made the survey, we also were able to infuse the herbs given to us by Master Orendil from a fount bathed in eternal moonlight. We made our way back to the forest keeper and helped bury the scout. Teronis looked peaceful belying the violence that ended his life. I say the Payer for the Dead, one of the first I learned from the many tragedies that have befallen our people. May the Light embrace him. “I shall watch over him as he joins the land,” said Heartwise. He gestured to the ground below his feet and then to the larger glade around us, and then turned to me. “You have helped begin the healing. In time, this evil will pass. And flowers will grow once again. And the first will grow here.” I look down at the small mound under which Teronis now rests. The ground is dark and wet, with a sickly sheen. But amid the decomposing leaves and twigs, I see something else. Is that a small petal growing, a bud of a flower? I turn to Keeper Heartwise to see him smiling. He nods towards the small bud. “You see? It begins.” We have since returned to Maestra’s Post. The battleground outside is quiet for now. The furbolgs to the east have retreated. The post is safe for the time being. The moon priestess continues to minister to the injured sentinels. No one sees us depart on our way to Astranaar. For now, uncle, I end this letter to you with the warmest thoughts and regards. I remain, your nephew. Z
originally posted 3/2/12 us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/4015202822?page=249#4961
The narratives seem to have grown longer with each letter. To prevent "walls of text" in the forum, I think I'll post a teaser there with a pointer to this site that shows the whole story.
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Post by ferrousbuelr on Mar 16, 2012 15:30:24 GMT -5
An unsent letter, as read together to soothe our grief of our beloved’s passing.
Dear Uncle, Prizrak and I continue our travels deeper into Ashenvale. Maestra’s Post is far behind us, and we are among the deep glades. Old trees with trunks greater in diameter than the largest warp piston are interspersed among young saplings just beginning their growth. Dangerous creatures still roam the land but these we avoided easily given my training to sense and track beasts from a distance. I remember Acteon’s words to me. “Use not just what you see and hear, but what you can sense and feel, and not just with your eyes and ears. You have more senses than you know. In time, you will be able to track the unseen, and creatures not of this world, or this plane.” Even from a distance, I could tell there is trouble Astranaar, our intended destination. The settlement is on fire. Many trees, buildings, and other structures are ablaze. Overhead, Orc wind riders fly crossing patterns as they drop fire bombs at the night elves below. Further out to the north, more Orc wind riders hover as they watch the destruction. The most immediate need was to douse the fires, the effort coordinated by Sentinel Thenysil. Arming myself with a bucket, we formed brigades as we controlled the fires to eventually extinguish them completely. With faces blackened with soot, I looked at the night elves as they returned my gaze. A few smiled their silent thanks, but our reprieve was short lived. Thenysil was gesturing wildly for me to jump into one of the glaive throwers and return fire against the Orc wind riders. I turned to look at the glaive thrower, looking more like a sculptured work of art than a war machine. I settle into the unfamiliar controls as I see other night elves doing the same but much more efficiently in other glaive throwers about 50 yards away. I pull at a lever to feel the machine lurch back as a large glaive was launched into empty air, harmlessly landing behind some distant trees. I work the foot pedals, made more for elven than drainei feet. Testing the controls, I found how to track the the left, then right, and how to elevate or depress the thrower. The night elf sentinel in the thrower several yards to my right waved her encouragement. I could not hear what she was saying amid the sounds of battle, but I can guess her intent. With hand gestures, we discerned which fields of fire each was to cover. I watched as she launched her glaives with precision, leading each wind rider appropriately. Following her example, I track a rider coming in from the northeast, fast and low. My thrower lurched twice, both shots missing their mark, but close enough to cause the rider to veer into the other sentinel’s fire. I nod to the other sentinel, acknowledging her skill. I concentrate on the next rider, one further away but stationary. “This is just a large crossbow,” I tell myself. “Be as the weapon. Extend your sight. Allow for the wind, and distance.” I smile inwardly, my hunter’s training taking over. The thrower lurches again, just once this time. The glaive flew true, spinning in deadly arc to the target. The orc never knew what hit him. I can feel nods of approval from the sentinels around me as I continued the grim task of picking off the remaining riders. With each shot, my familiarity and skill with the weapon improved. By the time the grim task was done, no rider that I could see, whether high or low, whether motionless or wildly weaving, no rider was safe from my aim. Tonight, Astranaar sleeps peacefully. The wind riders have retreated, but there is talk that they will renew their presence in the morning. I had a chance to meet more of Astranaar's residents during this time. In particular, I met Raene Wolfrunner, another hunter, who wept at the tragic news of her friend, Teronis, who we helped bury. I will talk more with her tomorrow after I get some rest. For now, I end this letter to you with the warmest thoughts and regards. I remain, your nephew. Z
also posted 3/16/12 us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/4139864796?page=22#425
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