Sparks and Embers – A World of Warcraft Story

Note: This is a World of Warcraft story based around the actions of my player characters during the recent narrative event, the Burning of Teldrassil. A basic understanding of World of Warcraft’s world is recommended when reading this, though I will leave a map of Darkshore below for others who may be interested.

Burning of Teldrassil map

Furthermore, I’d recommend reading the first volume of my World of Warcraft Character’s Lore as it features the backstories for many of the characters you’re about to see.


“Zeverys. Thank you for joining me.”

The blood elf demon hunter inclined her head before sitting down awkwardly in the chair across from the druid. He smiled amicably across the table towards her, and she relaxed a little. “Kritigri,” she greeted him.

“I believe I still owe you a drink for the Broken Shore,” he chuckled.

Zeverys was certain that the night elf could have saved himself well enough from the three hulking felguards that had cornered him that day, but she was never one to turn down a free drink. She cast her fel gaze around the Legerdemain Lounge. People of all races sat together and murmured quietly. In the weeks that had passed since the Legion’s defeat, many were still coming to grips with the newfound peace. “What do they even serve here? I admit, this isn’t one of my more frequent locales…”

“Nor mine,” Kritigri admitted, and Zeverys noticed how he was somewhat hunched over in his seat in an attempt to meet the height of the table between them. She stifled a smirk. They’d chosen this inn due to its neutral location in the centre of Dalaran. They had not considered that the place had originally been made to accommodate humans.

“How much longer do you think it’ll be possible to talk like this?” she asked.

Kritigri sighed. “Forever, if I had anything to say about it. But I’m sure some new spat will tear the factions apart once more.” He eyed her curiously. “What do you intend to do now that the Legion is defeated? Will you pledge yourself to the Horde’s efforts?”

It was a big question, but he put it to her so easily. She was caught off guard. “I… suppose I will go to my Warchief.” As if she hadn’t spent every waking moment pondering this.

“Sylvanas,” the druid huffed. He could barely keep the sneer out of his voice. The druid may not have hated the Horde as a whole, but Sylvanas… that one definitely seemed to leave a sour taste in his mouth.

“She was my Ranger General, once. In another lifetime,” Zeverys mused.

“I imagine she is much changed since those days.”

“As am I,” she retorted. Kritigri glanced at her anew, taking in her tall horns, her ruby tattoos and the eerie green that glowed behind her blindfold. He opened his mouth as if he was going to ask a question, but then averted his gaze and frowned. “What?” she prompted.

He looked at her hesitantly. “Is there really no cure to your vengeance and hatred? To live out the rest of your days as-”

“Virizard,” she said. The druid stiffened. “That’s what you were truly going to ask about, wasn’t it? Your brother?”

“How do you-”

“I have fought beside him. He is an exceptional demon hunter.”

“So it’s true.”

Kritigri’s long estranged brother Tolidar had appeared before him one night, not long after the armies of Azeroth had begun their campaign on Argus. The mage had spared no time on pleasantries, nor deigned to make note of their thousands of years of separation. All he had told Kritigri was that their brother, Virizard, long ago captured by the Legion in the War of the Ancients, was alive, was a demon hunter, and was cleaving his way through Argus. It was quite an evening.

“Where can I find him?” The question had passed the druid’s lips before he’d even had a chance to consider it.

Zeverys tilted her head sympathetically. “I do not know. After our return from Argus, he stole away, saying only that he needed time to recall who he was and if he had a place on Azeroth after all these years.” She frowned. “Rather irresponsible, if you ask me. He wasn’t exactly expendable within the Illidari.”

“Darnassus,” Kritgiri muttered. “He’ll have gone to Darnassus. To Teldrassil. He’d want to see the new bastion of night elf civilisation for himself.” He nodded to himself. “Zeverys, would you-”

At that moment a courier arrived, out of breath and wild eyed. “Archdruid,” the young night elf spluttered. She saw Zeverys and her eyes widened in alarm. “I have… sensitive information.”

Kritigri spotted the royal seal on the courier’s letter. His heart sank. “Zeverys,” he began, turning to address her. “It appears-”

But the blood elf was already marching away.


Teldrassil.

The Horde were marching on Teldrassil.

His home.

Kritigri slammed a surge of astral energy into an orc beserker and then turned to evaluate the situation on the beach. He had emerged from a portal into Darkshore, not far from the ruins of Auberdine. He had turned to the mage. “You told me I was needed to defend Ashenvale!” he had roared.

“Ashenvale has fallen! Defend the World Tree!” was the only reply he had gotten before the portal snapped shut again.

And now, it seemed that Darkshore was falling, too.

Kritigri snarled, advancing on a troll and an undead who were closing in on a wounded sentinel. The druid had only ever killed the Horde in defence, and whilst that was true of this situation also, he found himself empty of the quiet remorse he usually felt at snuffing out life. Seething, he threw his arm into the air and called down a beam of lunar magic onto his foes. The undead fell apart like a badly made toy while the troll yelped, shielding his eyes and slapping senselessly at the newly raw flesh on his arms. While he was distracted, the wounded sentinel twisted on the floor and threw her glaive at his throat, killing him instantly. By the time Kritigri reached her, she had died of her wounds.

“Why?” he hissed over her body. “Why are they attacking us now? Why, when we were so close to a lasting peace?”

He knew, obviously. He’d visited Silithus and investigated the emerging Azerite in the area. He knew what power the mysterious new material held, and that there would be opportunists who would seek to destroy the Alliance with it. But he also knew that Azeroth was dying, and that in times like these the Horde and Alliance often came together to overcome whatever existential threat was upon them. So why-

“Brother! Watch out!”

Kritigri snapped out of his reverie just in time to notice the rogue that was almost upon him. He twisted out of the blood elf’s lunge and elbowed him in the throat, dropping him to the beach. The druid pinned him there with a foot and put his hand to the squirming rogue’s head, slowly roasting it with solar energy until the squirming stopped, and the fel green eyes dimmed.

Not a very druidic move. Not one he was proud of. But not one he had time to contemplate right now.

“Brother!” the call came again, this time without the warning. Kritigri lifted his eyes to see Jerrek standing at the edge of the forest, bow in hand, his face wrought with concern and pain. He took one step towards the beach and tilted downwards, crimson spurting out from behind him and onto the grinning orc that had struck him down.

Jerrek!” Kritigri roared, and shifted into cat form to sprint towards him. The orc raised her axe, but before she could complete her kill a nightstalker leaped out of the woods and sunk its teeth into her throat, tugging aggressively left and right. Kritigri felt relief and hope blossom in his heart, and pressed himself even faster to reach his youngest brother. He shifted out of cat form as he skidded to a stop to examine the wound.

The gash was deep, and blood was pooling around his brother at an alarming rate. But the cut had not reached the bone, and while Kritigri was no priest, druids had their own ways of mending wounds. He’d never been all that adept at healing, but he forced himself to soothe, to feel the beating heart of the forest, to call upon the essence of life found within the boughs and branches around him and to channel the essence back into his brother.

It worked. Flesh knit itself together before his eyes, and his brother’s breathing became steady once more. “By Elune’s grace,” he breathed, and slumped down next to him.

His brother groaned and sat up, pale from loss of blood.  “Thank you,” he managed. He cast about him, and his nightstalker came slinking up to him with his lost bow in her bloody jaws. He scratched her affectionately behind the ears, and she dropped it into his lap. “Nala,” he said to her. “You have saved me again. Please keep watch while I recover.” Obediently, the nightstalker faded back into the trees.

“Brother,” Kritigri muttered. “I had hoped you remained in Silithus, with the rest of our misguided forces.”

Jerrek gave him a rueful look. “I was on compassionate leave.”

“Compassionate… Jerrek, what happened?” But his brother’s downcast eyes told him all he needed to know. “Wyllum… your falcon. Jerrek, I’m sorry.” He meant it. A hunter’s bond with their beast was legendary. “Was it quick?”

Jerrek gave a taut smile. “Old age. The old bird lived longer than he had any right to, anyways. But enough idle talk.” His face hardened as he glared down the beach. “We’ve Horde to kill.”


Zeverys dashed between two sentinels, cutting their throats faster than the eye could follow. Alliance blood was indistinguishable from her red garb and ruby tattoos as she darted from foe to foe, a crimson blur on the battlefield. She felled those she vaguely recognised, likely from working together to defeat the Legion mere weeks ago. But unlike some of her order, she hadn’t forgotten her roots. Yes, she was a demon hunter. But she’d been a blood elf first. And so when her warchief had called upon her to join the assault on Darkshore, she had hesitated nary a moment before diving into the fray.

She did not hate the Alliance. She didn’t even think they deserved to die in such a manner. But as her warchief said, they could not be trusted to maintain a presence on this landmass from where Azerite was burgeoning like a plague. They had to nip this arms race in the bud, before a lasting war could truly begin. As a demon hunter, Zeverys was all too used to making hard decisions, and bargaining the value of individual lives against the greater good.

This wasn’t personal. This was necessary.

And the kaldorei had exiled her people and left them for dead all those years ago. Admittedly, that made the job easier.

ZEVERYS!

This roar of outrage came as she was stepping over yet another spasming sentinel, and she might have written it off as some old ally recognising her from Argus. But something in the voice spelled a deep, rending betrayal, and so she turned.

And met Archdruid Kritigri.

In moments he had crossed the battlefield to meet her, and she stood, emotionally disarmed, all of her resolve to fight for the Horde fleeing before the betrayal in his face. “Archdruid-”

“Why?” he implored her. The rage in his face contorted into sadness, bewilderment. “I expect it of them-” he pointed to a screaming orc in the distance – “But not you! I thought the Illidari saw above these petty squabbles? Wasn’t defeating the Legion your goal? To bring peace to Azeroth?”

Zeverys found herself fumbling for words. “I… it is! Your people abandoned us!” she spat clumsily.

It took him a moment to grasp what she meant. “Thousands of years ago! You weren’t even born then, were you?”

As if that exempted her from being affected by their exile. She scowled. “That’s not the only reason…” she saw the fury on his face, and stopped. “You know what? I don’t time to explain this to you. We have our reasons, that’s all you need to know. I’ll explain later, if I can. Now step aside, you’re in my way.” She moved to shoulder past him, but he placed himself in her way. She locked eyes with him. “Move.

He shook his head. “If you were betraying me alone? Sure. But how many more sentinels are you going to kill if I let you pass? How many more of my friends will you butcher for your fallen Ranger General?”

She snarled and whirled, ready to storm away. As she turned, a vine gripped her by the ankle and slammed her to the ground. Before she could yank herself free, more sprung up and began to curl around her.

He’s attacking me. After all the battles we’ve fought together. She immediately reprimanded herself for the thought. She was hardly blameless. But still, for him to turn his rage on her…

Having maintained her grip on her warglaives, she used them to hack at the roots around her. “Is there really no cure to your vengeance and hatred?” she sneered, repeating his words back at him. In return, thorns sprouted from the roots and began digging into her, scratching agonisingly across her flesh.

He’s going to kill me.

Not if we kill him first, a voice growled back at her. Reluctantly, she gave herself to the demon within.


Kritigri continued to will the roots to tighten, the thorns to sprout sharper, ignoring the part of him that was screaming from within. For Darkshore and Darnassus, he repeated to himself, for the sentinels she has killed, for the homes she intends to claim. Tighter, tighter.

Zeverys was darkening.

Too late, Kritigri realised she was transforming. His roots fell away, scorched and withered. A hulking demon now stood before him, warglaives in hand. It was still Zeverys, but her petite blood elf form had given way to a towering, muscled beast wreathed with a smokey darkness. He watched in horror as she unfurled herself, glowered at him… and charged.

Upon later recollection of the fight, Kritigri would admit that he was dead for sure. She was faster than him, within melee range, and empowered to frightening levels by the fel energies that coursed within her veins. He’d unsheathed his staff just in time to parry her first blow, while the second cleaved it in two; this was no Scythe of Elune. The next few moments of their duel had seen the archdruid darting around, getting some weak blasts of solar, lunar or astral magic in while he spent most of his efforts evading her otherworldly agility. Eventually, though, she followed him into a building and pinned him against the side of a wall. She raised her glaive, going for the throat.

The blade stopped a millimetre from his jugular.

The demon form melted away, but her grip did not soften.

They stood there for what felt like hours, her glaive to his throat, his gaze meeting hers. Behind the blindfold, it was impossible to gauge what was going through her mind.

Eventually, she removed her glaive, and simply walked away.

He did not follow.

The sounds of war grew more and more distant, until it became apparent that the fight had overtaken him, moving towards Lor’Danel. Kritigri pushed himself from the wall, hissing at the pain from his wounds, and realised his fight with Zeverys had taken him to the ruins of Auberdine. Around him sprawled the fresh corpses of too many sentinels, and not enough Horde. Wincing, he limped out of the battered inn, and continued limping towards the sound of battle until he had reached the coast. Here, the murlocs of old had long since been driven away by roaming adventurers, leaving only a few crawlers to skitter aimlessly across the beach, oblivious to the cataclysmic events happening around them.

Kritigri continued to limp down the beach. He could no longer hear the sound of battle.

A portal appeared a ways from him and Tolidar stepped out of it, with Jerrek on his shoulder. The youngest brother had overexerted himself after taking his wound from earlier, and Tolidar had clearly decided to pull him from the fight before he became another casualty of war. The pair were arguing – Jerrek was shouting that he should be fighting until the Horde killed him, that this was desertion, that Tolidar would burn for this. The latter brother was quietly but firmly overriding his brother, telling him that he’d been put on evacuation duty, that as far as he was concerned Jerrek was just another lost soul that needed rescuing, that he wasn’t going to leave his brother for dead even if he had abandoned him all those years ago.

“My brothers.”

Jerrek looked up in surprise. Tolidar met his gaze and said grimly, “They have taken Darkshore.”

Kritigri nodded. There was no more room in his heart for horror. He put his grief to the side. “Then take me to Darnassus. I would make sure that their occupation costs as few lives as possible.” Quietly, he feared for Virizard. He had seen no sign of his long lost brother in Darkshore.

“I’m coming too,” Jerrek cut in.

Tolidar nodded sombrely, giving in to his youngest brother. “We’ll all go. I’ll-”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sound of a blast. Slowly, so slowly, Kritigri turned to the source of the explosion. A trebuchet had launched a firebomb into the bough of the World Tree.

Before he could comprehend this, another blow landed, and then another. The flames took hold with frightening efficiency.

“No,” Jerrek breathed.

“They’re… attacking Teldrassil?” Tolidar asked of nobody. “But why? What strategic advantage would that earn them? Don’t they know there’s only innocents left in the tree?” His voice pitched higher. “Elune, do they not know there’s innocents left in the tree?!” He immediately turned to begin working on a new portal.

Kritigri sank to his knees.

“NO,” Jerrek shouted. Nala appeared by his side and whined softly, but nobody heeded her.

A massive branch came loose and began its slow descent to the waters below.

The flames were enrapturing.

“Virizard is in there.”

It wasn’t until Jerrek snapped his head towards Kritigri that he realised he had spoken.

“Virizard’s dead,” Jerrek squinted.

“He’s not,” Tolidar replied dismissvely. “Kritigri, what do you mean? Why is he in Teldrassil?”

“He abandoned the Illidari,” the druid said, his voice hollow, his mouth dry. “Where else would he be?”

“The Illidari?” Jerrek snapped. Neither brother replied.

“We have to do something,” Kritigri muttered, but his body would not move. Jerrek’s own body suddenly slumped down next to him.

“Brothers,” Tolidar said, “I am sorry. I cannot lose any more of you.” And then he vanished, transporting himself to Darnassus and leaving no portal in his wake.


Zeverys stood on the coast of Lor’Danel, her warglaives jutting from the sand, watching with a hollow feeling in her gut as the World Tree burned before her. She could feel its heat from here. It took an effort to stand with the aches that the druid had given her, but she felt she owed him this much. To ache and endure at least a fraction of how he must be feeling right now. If he was even still alive. For his sake, she hoped not.

She did not exactly feel ashamed by her actions. The plan had never been to burn the World Tree or to kill innocents. Indeed, she was quite concerned by the actions her warchief had taken here today, and she did regret that it had come to this. But she had come into this conflict believing that she was serving the greater good, and if she had to see this through to the end to justify her bloodshed today, then… so be it.

“Look what you’ve done to my tree.”

Zeverys whirled – nearly falling – to see a night elf demon hunter approaching her. He had sooty black hair pulled back in a braided tail, and his bare chest bore his glowing purple scars to the world. Zeverys glanced around, but she had been standing here for hours; the rest of the Horde had all left to celebrate, or flee.

“Slayer,” she greeted him. “I had not thought I would see you again.”

“Nor did I, to be honest.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” he unsheathed a warglaive and studied it for a moment, before snorting and replacing it. “I think not. Demon hunters should not concern themselves with the affairs of squabbling children.”

“So… the deaths that have occurred here mean nothing to you?” she asked carefully.

“Not nothing,” he admitted. “I am far removed from my people, and you and I have seen worse horrors than this. But it is still daunting.” He beheld the burning tree for a moment, and shook his head. “There’s more at play here. I have my suspicions as to what motivates your warchief.” Zeverys winced as he said it. “And, truth be told, my King.”

She eyed him. “Truly?”

“Truly. Or maybe I’m just hoping for some other existential threat to justify these scars and the nagging demon inside my head.” He shrugged. “Who knows. Either way, nothing good can come of demon hunters turning their glaives on one another due to a spat between some undead whore and a chastened boy king. Personally, I’m headed to Silithus.” He grinned. “There’s some bugs to kill down there, that’s for sure. Coming?”

Zeverys felt something odd then, something she’d felt before. It was as if she had come to a crossroads in her life, and her destiny was pulling her in two different directions. She turned once more to the tree, still burning all these hours after the Horde’s onslaught. And she measured her Slayer once more, in all his disturbing amiability. He hadn’t always been like this. Not for the first time, she wondered if the Legion hadn’t driven him mad.

It wouldn’t be the first time, the voice in her head leered.

“Of course I’m with you, Slayer Virizard,” she said, inclining her head. She turned her back on the burning World Tree and followed her mentor down the coast. She did not look back.

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My World of Warcraft Characters’ Lore: Volume 3

Moving on from the Night Elf Brothers and the Sisters of Light and Shadow, the following heroes of the Alliance are not related by blood, race, class, or even philosophy. They may have met over the years and formed friendships with one another, fought in separate groups on the same side of a battle, or never heard of one another at all. They share one thing in common: a desire to safeguard Azeroth and the citizens of the Alliance from the threats that seek to end them.

Also I created them, I guess.


Heroes of the Alliance

Grimslash, Worgen Fury Warrior

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Archibald Grimslash had spent his formative years watching his father become twisted by the hatreds which fuelled the Gilnean civil war. The gentle-natured father of his youth slowly began to fade away, replaced with a resentful and explosive man who opposed King Genn Greymane’s decision to isolate Gilneas from the Alliance. This opposition began as outrage, and escalated into militant extremism when others took up the cause. Although Archibald didn’t particularly disagree with his father’s cause, all he knew was that the man he had looked up to was gone, consumed by rage, and eventually he succumbed to a heart attack during a particularly violent argument he’d had with a prisoner. Shortly after this incident, Archibald visited his father’s prisoner – a man named Spencer Humphrey – and almost lost his own temper, blaming Spencer for his father’s death. Immediately noting the similarities between him and his father, however, Archibald managed to restrain himself, and vowed never to let rage drive him as it had his father. He later visited Spencer in an attempt to understand his way of thinking, and whilst the two of them disagreed on many political issues, they became unlikely friends.

When Gilneas fell under siege from the crazed worgen, Archibald’s first thought was of Spencer and the prisoners who were unable to escape from their manacles. Upon reaching his friend’s cell, Archibald found that he’d been attacked – and was already turning. Attempting to reason with the rabid prisoner failed, and for the first time, diplomacy was replaced with violence between them. Spencer broke free and struck Archibald hard across the chest, and he slammed into a wall, falling unconscious.

That was the last lucid moment Archibald would experience for a very long time.

Years later, Archibald felt himself struggling to wake, as if from a coma. As his vision swam into view, he found that he was crouched on the forest ground, blood pooling around his claws, a night elf twitching beneath him as the life left her body. Startled, he fell backwards, whimpering. He held his bloodstained paw in front of him, gaping in horror as the fur receded from it and it returned to the form of a human hand – albeit still stained with the blood of his victim.

The remaining night elves who had saved him told him that they had performed something called the Ritual of Balance on him, but he had broken from his restraints shortly before it could be completed, slaying one of his saviours moments before returning to his senses. They told him that he had been turned, along with many other Gilneans, during the fall of their homeland from an invasion of worgen, and that while most had been saved with this ritual, Archibald was one of the few that had evaded them in the years after. He had come to be known as a notorious feral beast of Duskwood, where he had eventually settled to roam and hunt. He had killed many in the region over the years.

The night elves told him that many Gilneans used their worgen abilities for the good of the Alliance, which they had re-joined, but Archibald was disgusted with himself. Vowing never to let his worgen form free again, he abandoned the night elves in the dead of night and headed north, with no real plans other than to try and outpace the unending rage that now flowed through his veins.

Eventually, Archibald entered the frigid dwarven land of Dun Morogh, and encountered a travelling band of pandaren monks who had arrived from across the sea to teach the dwarves and gnomes the way of the monk. Archibald told them his story, and whilst the pandaren had enjoyed little success in training worgen monks beforehand, they agreed to let Archibald join their sessions and try to soothe his raging spirit. Archibald trained with them for some weeks, but found himself feeling clumsy and isolated in lessons.

Eventually, a band of trolls that lived in the region launched a surprise attack on the band of monks, and seeing his tutor struck down before his eyes, Archibald Grimslash lost himself to rage. Before he could think twice he had transformed, and had snatched up a pair of axes from a fallen troll. Grimslash launched his attack; his was a dance of death as he used his enhanced lupine senses and strength to dart from troll and troll, dispatching them with ease. While the monks struck with pinpoint accuracy and careful agility, Grimslash merely cleaved through whatever troll stood before him. When the fight was over he stood victorious in the crimson snow, feeling more at one with himself than he had since Gilneas. The rage had not abated, but his bloodlust was sated. For now.

It became clear to him that he could never be the same person he was before the invasion of Gilneas. Never would he be able to keep his promise of keeping his temper; nor would he let his worgen self sit idly by while his killing edge could be used to save others. Looking at the carnage around him, he knew he should have felt horrified by what he had done, but  found that his view on the world had changed. Abandoning the ways of the monk, Grimslash thanked his remaining tutors and cleaned his axes, leaving to rejoin his people.

Writer’s comments: As World of Warcraft has progressed, Blizzard have given player characters of new races or hero classes more linear origin stories. Due to this, characters like Stalward, Virizard and Grimslash are difficult to come up with unique origins for. I’ve been mostly trying to add flair to their stories either before or after they underwent their respective changes, whilst respecting the game’s own lore for their origins.

Also, if the faction leader can be called ‘Genn Greymane’ despite not being a worgen for most of his life, I can definitely get away with ‘Archibald Grimslash’.

Adamant, Dwarf Retribution Paladin

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Adamant Stoutwhisker enjoyed a typical dwarven upbringing amongst a rowdy, tavern-going family. Many a long and raucous evening was spent drinking away in Kharanos in his adolescence, and when he grew older and yearned for independence, Adamant moved to Loch Modan and took up fishing in-between nights at the tavern. As time passed, many of Adamant’s friends grew troubled with world-shaking events such as the invasion of the Horde and the onslaught of the Scourge, and left to lend their aid to the Alliance. Adamant didn’t begrudge them this, but he preferred the peaceful life of fishing in the Loch and drinking with his friends, so he simply befriended whatever newcomers appeared, and continued as he was.

One night, a grizzled human veteran deigned to suggest that Adamant was too dismissive of the sacrifices made for his way of life, and the drunken dwarf was quick to anger, ending the evening in a bloody brawl with the man. Ashamed – and easily beaten – he tracked the human down the next day to apologise. The old warrior accepted his apology, but added that the Alliance always needed more heroes in an increasingly dangerous world. He extended a hand of friendship. Ashamed, Adamant skulked away.

The following months were a dark time for Adamant. His drinking became less an exercise of leisure and more of a compulsion, an attempt to drive away the nagging feeling that he was every bit the coward that the old man had accused of him. The dwarf found himself listening in on the news of the world – of how a young human Prince had fallen under the sway of the Scourge, how entire cities were falling to the plague of undeath – and the knot of unease in his stomach only grew. Yet still he remained at the Loch.

Eventually, news reached him that the grizzled veteran who Adamant had fought with many months ago had fallen in the fight against the Scourge. A service was to be held at the graveyard south of Andorhal, where Uther himself was buried. Adamant had heard of his friends dying in the line of duty before, but something about this human’s sacrifice affected something deep within him. Sobered, Adamant rose from his stool and abandoned his tankard. The next morning, he set off for the Plaguelands.

When Adamant reached the warrior’s grave to pay his respects, he was horrified by the state of the land around him. He’d heard the tales – heard reports in excruciating detail – but even as the other dwarves were moved into action, Adamant had remained content to drink with his friends, comforted by the notion that the Alliance existed to allow dwarves like him to live unaffected by the perils of the world.

The veteran was right, Adamant realised. He wasn’t just ambivalent. He was complacent, lethargic, and cowardly.

As Adamant rose to leave the grave, he was ambushed by a mindless undead that had ambled unnoticed into the area. With no time to think, Adamant reached for his mace – a family heirloom – and struck the creature down, his simple weapon gleaming with a golden, holy energy.

Astonished, Adamant surveyed his arms, and felt the same holy energy running through his veins, fortifying him and lending to him a vigour that purged the lethargy from his bones. His muscles brimmed with the anticipation of action, with a newfound might, and with the thirst for holy retribution.

The Light had chosen Adamant to be worthy of wielding its power upon sensing his newfound conviction to make amends. Wasting no time gawping, Adamant seized this opportunity and immediately headed north to Hearthglen, to pledge his allegiance to the Argent Crusade and seek tutoring in the ways of the paladin.

Writer’s notes: I’d like to mention that the veteran’s judgement of Adamant as a coward for living a regular life isn’t supposed to apply to situations outside of Warcraft. In Azeroth at this point in time, the entire world was in peril on a regular basis, and it stands to reason that a more militaristic way of thinking would be a popular mindset in this social context, especially among the valorous humans and dwarves towards young and able-bodied people of their race opting to live a peaceful life among the dire conflicts. This mightn’t even be the ruling mindset – simply an interaction between an ageing veteran who has seen his friends die in the field to a worthy cause, and a drunken dwarf who lives in open ingratitude towards the sacrifices of said friends.

On a lighter note, Adamant is the only character I’ve ever paid to change the name of. He spent his first hundred levels as… Smotencore. Ech.

Khallus, Human Assassination Rogue

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After retaking Stormwind during the Second War, King Varian Wrynn employed the Stonemason’s Guild to rebuild the sacked city. When the nobles of Stormwind refused to pay the workers for their labour, the Stonemasons rioted, and after Queen Tiffin was killed during the chaos they retreated to the outskirts of the kingdom, forming the Defias Brotherhood. Khallus was raised within the Brotherhood to believe that the kingdom of Stormwind was a tyrannous empire, and that the Alliance was a malignant and corrupt organisation. He was trained in the ways of assassination by his mother and father, poised to become a sharply honed weapon of the Brotherhood that would infiltrate the city and execute the nobility. Eventually, he grew into adulthood and completed his training, and was sent on his first mission – to execute a heinously corrupt lord currently lodging in the Trade District.

While skulking in the shadows and waiting for the right moment to strike, Khallus was privy to the discussions of lords and ladies, and though he was only in his target’s chambers for a few hours, he learned enough to know that the nobles of Stormwind were not as malicious as he was led to believe. A few conversations weren’t enough to undo years of indoctrination, but they were enough to give him pause, to withdraw and do his own research. Over the following weeks, Khallus discovered that Lady Katrina Prestor – the black dragon Onyxia in disguise – had influenced Stormwind’s nobles into refusing to pay the Stonemasons. It turned out that the lords and ladies weren’t to blame for the tragedy that formed the Defias Brotherhood.

Not entirely.

Returning home to Westfall, Khallus informed his parents of Onyxia’s now-forgotten plot to forge the Brotherhood as a weapon to destabilise the Alliance. To Khallus’ surprise, his parents already knew. Worse still, they didn’t care. They pointed to the ongoing famine in Westfall as one of many signs of Stormwind’s neglect. Khallus didn’t disagree, but he told them that surely it was in their best interests to stop hindering the Alliance so that they might get a better foothold in the region, that perhaps they could then help. But his argument fell on deaf ears. He was being idealistic. He was being ungrateful. If his parents hadn’t scooped him up during the riots, he’d be nothing more than a street urchin, begging for coppers in the streets of Old Town.

Khallus was stunned. He hadn’t known he was adopted – nay, stolen. After weeks of soul searching, he eventually made up his mind and escaped from the Brotherhood in the dead of night. But he would not go to Stormwind; his lack of faith in the Brotherhood did not absolve the human kingdom of its own crimes. Instead, he became a nomad, eavesdropping on rumours of local troubles and using his abilities to assassinate the cause of the issue, efficiently and ruthlessly. He worked not for the Alliance as a whole, but for the individuals who were being affected or sent to fight whatever evil was marked for death. His was a life of isolation, extermination, and a bloody quest for redemption.

Writer’s notes: Khallus is the character I made to level through the game without dungeons or heirlooms, to read the quest text and take note of the story. In light of this, his story is one that fits that of the player character questing through zones, eliminating threats and helping individual peoples in need.

Elismyr, Gnome Windwalker Monk

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Elismyr never found that she never possessed the mirth and bombasity that her race became known for. She was adopted into a family that paid little attention to her, and her shy nature removed her from many possible social groups. As she grew into adulthood she felt as if she were an outcast, and was preparing to leave Gnomeregan and trek for places unknown when an engineer named Fizzik noticed her dour, broken expression. Fizzik summoned up the courage to approach her and ask her why she was heading out of Gnomeregan at this time of night with what appeared to be all her worldly possessions. Having nurtured a growing resentment of her people and their extroverted ways, Elismyr responded harshly, and strode past him out into the frosty wilderness of Dun Morogh.

Fizzik was no lone spirit and was somewhat affronted by Elismyr’s hostility, and so didn’t immediately go after her. But as he continued to work on his mechanostrider by the entrance to Gnomeregan, unease began to settle in his mind, and he imaged the young gnome being assaulted by troggs, or wild boars, or frostmane trolls. Grumbling to himself, he mounted his mechanostrider – he’d only been making some minor modifications – and set out to find her. Not many gnomes left Gnomeregan, let alone at the dead of night. It was a big world for a small people such as they.

Fizzik followed her footsteps through the snow, and eventually found her struggling on through a growing snowstorm. She whirled as she heard his approach, and scowled at him with recognition. And yet, despite her extensive planning she had left with little experience of the outside world, and found that even through her furs, the snow contained an icy bite. Plus, the shadow of a large bear loomed through the fog. Elismyr decided that she’d return to Gnomeregan with the nosy engineer, just for the night. She’d leave in the morning.

But she never did. Despite rocky first impressions, Elismyr and Fizzik grew to be close friends, and eventually fell in love. Fizzik grew to appreciate Elismyr’s quiet persona, a rare trait indeed for a gnome. And in turn, Elismyr learned through Fizzik that despite the cheerfulness and outgoing nature of many gnomes, these traits often belied a more sincere understanding of the world, and an innate desire to invent new and wondrous technologies for the benefit of all. Elismyr no longer resented other gnomes. After a decade together, the two gnomes married in a well-attended ceremony.

They would enjoy their married life for a scant few years before tragedy struck. An ancient menace besieged Gnomeregan during the time of the Third War, and Fizzik and Elismyr decided to retreat to the young settlement of New Tinkertown while the warriors attempted to save Gnomeregan. Fizzik insisted that Elismyr go on ahead with some of his friends, as he believed that one of his devices may prove useful to the defenders. He promised he would join her in New Tinkertown the next day. Reluctantly, she let him go.

Fizzik never returned.

Elismyr was devastated with grief. She felt wronged and abandoned, though she knew Fizzik was not to blame. She felt isolated and bothered by those around her all at once, and began to regress into her former misanthropic ways. These tumultuous feelings did not heal with time, and Elismyr grew to be a bitter, solitary gnome on the edge of New Tinkertown, sometimes going weeks without talking to another soul.

Eventually, talk of a new race of people called the Pandaren came to Elismyr’s attention. The news was old, of course; Elismyr rarely engaged in idle gossip. These Pandaren lived by the way of the monk, an ideology as much as a way of fighting. They believed in a harmony of the soul, the importance of being at peace with oneself. A band of them had recently arrived in Dun Morogh, and were accepting trainees. A few years ago, when her grief was still raw, Elismyr wouldn’t have bothered. But after many years of struggling with her own mind, the idea grabbed hold of her. Without a word to anyone, Elismyr gathered up her meagre possessions and left. She would never turn back.

Writer’s notes: Elismyr is part of the reason why I took so damn long to write this third Volume. I am, historically, a hater of gnomes. They are small and crude and irritating. But monks are not any of these things, bar small, if you so choose. And so I created Elismyr, a gnome in race only. I wanted her to be more of an introvert, an outsider, as I feel any gnome who wishes to pursue the ways of the monk would be. Also, I thought it would be hilarious to kill giant Pit Lords as a tiny, zen-fuelled gnome with some powerful palms.

Coming next: Champions of the Horde, Allied Races and short stories from the perspectives of some of my characters, during the most important moments of their lives. My Druid Kritigri may have something to say about the Burning of Teldrassil.

 

[The History of Glimmerside – A Cities: Skylines Diary] Chapter 1: Economic Ruin

The year is 2018. The governmental forces that be have decided that I am to develop and claim mayor-ship over a new town in the county of Riverrun. I have minimal experience developing towns, but enamoured by the prospect of making my mark on the world, I accept. This can only go well.

I name the town Glimmerside, after the glimmering river beside which the town will be made. I immediately spend three months trying to plan a symmetrical layout with two grids for residential and industry, and eventually give up on perfection. I also neglect to pause the game until houses have been constructed and residents start moving in, complaining at me for the lack of power and water. I set up basic systems for both, almost bankrupting myself in the process, before realising that I have perhaps started too big. Oops.

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Er… room for expansion?

I sustain my industry with the bare necessities and watch as my funds plunge to less than $500 during construction, barely evening out into profitable territory in time. I muddle along at a snail’s pace, my entire town earning as much as maybe one full time employee on minimum wage per day, before the governmental powers that be notice that I’ve reached 460 residents – an apparent milestone – and award me twenty grand, apparently blind to all else that is happening in Glimmerside. I almost choke in relief.

It’s not all sunshine and daisies from there, though. After extending my pipes, building some extra wind turbines, and creating a landfill for the whinging masses, I find myself running low on funds again. I use the last of them to make a long-overdue sewage pipe (down-river from the water intake, I’m not stupid), and sit back while my city turns out enough money for me to progress. Something’s wrong, though. My profits are suddenly dwindling. Glimmerside is losing citizens due to crime. I haven’t hit 900 population yet, so I’m not allowed to build a police station. Glimmerside is essentially a lawless place, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

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You never want to see that much red.

I take out a loan. The crime rate continues to skyrocket. Citizens continue to move away, distancing me from my goals of being able to build a police station. Abandoned houses litter the streets. Desperate, I try to make citizens happier. I build a medical clinic. I build another wind turbine to stop blackouts. I demolish abandoned buildings and add more trees – people like trees, right? But nothing works. The sewage is backing up again. Bandits parade brazenly through the streets. I’m in debt, and utterly unable to pay back my loan. I can’t see that I’m missing anything else; Glimmerside was doomed the moment I built those massive grids. With a smaller population, crime and budget may not be such an issue. But I bit off more than I could chew.

Glimmerside was doomed. Alternative methods would have to found…

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In part 2, I attempt to fix Glimmerside and wean myself off of the Unlimited Money budget, so begrudgingly bestowed upon me by the very realistically generous government.

E3 2018: What Has Me Hyped

Firstly, I’ll mention that I missed the Sony and Square Enix conferences due to time constraints. I watched the EA Play, Microsoft, Bethesda, Ubisoft, PC Gamer and Nintendo presentations. Now, here’s what I’m hyped for in order of most to least hype. All of the following entries are what I’m hyped for, so the bottom isn’t something I hate but something I’m mildly excited for.

From the top, then:

The Elder Scrolls VI

Did you expect anything else from the top of this list?

Bethesda Game Studios rarely announce games so far ahead of time, but with the growing demand for a new Elder Scrolls game I’m thankful that they decided to give us some reassurance. The landscape shown in the teaser looks like it belongs to High Rock, native home of the Bretons who, thematically, I’ve always seen as the medieval kingdom style of civilisation. If this is the case, I think Bethesda have made a very wise choice in setting, as High Rock has many similarities to the style of Game of Thrones including the visual setting and political intrigue. I think that taking inspiration from Game of Thrones and emulating its style of fantasy would be a fantastic fit for the Elder Scrolls series, and wouldn’t come as a surprise given that each Elder Scrolls game since Morrowind has been catered towards a different style of fantasy – alien, traditional, and Nordic for Morrowind, Oblivion, and Skyrim respectively.

Assassin’s Creed Odyssey

I am very far behind in the Assassin’s Creed series. The last game I finished was Assassin’s Creed Revelations, and I’ve been stubbornly refusing to skip the following games as I’m invested in the present-day story. I’ve had my eye on the modern games in the series since Syndicate, and the existence of Origins has had me willing to get back into the series for a long time. When Odyssey was revealed, however, to be in Ancient Greece, my hype levels went through the roof and I have since purchased and begun playing Origins, which luckily has no present day story at all.

If they make a game set in the decline of ancient Rome, it would complete the holy trinity of fascinating ancient eras. And I will play all of them.

DOOM Eternal

I really, really need to go back and finish DOOM (2016). It’s a fantastic game, and I only ever uninstalled it due to my then limited SSD space. That’s not barrier to me now, and the fact that a sequel is coming up – Hell on Earth, no less – has sent it rocketing back up to the top of my must-play list.

RAGE 2

I’ve never played the first RAGE. It looked like a less colourful version of Borderlands. RAGE 2 does not look like a less colourful version of Borderlands. RAGE 2 looks like it wants to PARTY HARD YEAH WOO PARTY PARTY MURDER MURDER

Andrew W.K aside, the gunplay looks as heavy and satisfying as DOOM (2016) and the abilities look very interesting. The main character sounds gruffly charismatic and you know what fuck it I’m just going to buy RAGE 1 even if it is mediocre

Pokemon Let’s Go Eevee Edition (HE RIDES ON YOUR HEAD)

“This,” Nintendo says proudly, “is Pokemon Let’s Go. It is based off of Pokemon Yellow, but is a uniquely different experience to the Core RPG series.”

“That’s not Pokemon Yellow Remastered” says the internet. “It’s different.”

“Yes,” say Nintendo. “You see, in this game-”

“I HATE IT” says the internet.

The internet is very dumb. Pokemon Let’s Go looks fantastic and I’m excited to see how their changing up the formula feels as I play through the game. The internet is too busy focusing on the fact that there’s no battling wild Pokemon to realise that trainer battles and gym battles are still a thing, as is online play. The shift has definitely changed to collecting Pokemon, something which honestly excites me. I’ve grown a little bored of the newer Pokemon games. I might be more excited about this than a potential Gen 8 game.

Forza Horizon 4

I’ve played about 20 hours of The Crew, which is basically Need for Speed turned MMO. And I really like it. I have plans to delve back into it. The Crew 2 is coming out soon, and honestly, I might have been interested in it, if I hadn’t seen Forza Horizon 4.

I’ve never played a Forza game, but this looks gorgeous. The multiplayer stuff looks similar to The Crew, and having an open world racing game that’s actually set in my country for once piques my interest as well.

I want to race through the UK, collect and customise as many cars as I can, and hang out with other players. And this looks set to deliver.

Super Smash Bros Ultimate

When the Nintendo Direct ended with Super Smash Bros, I was disappointed, but that was because they hadn’t announced Animal Crossing, Mario Maker or more details on their retro games. Also, the last Super Smash Bros I played was on 3DS, and it didn’t make much of an impression on me. But put out and disappointed as I was, I continued watching. And then I remembered how much I loved Super Smash Bros Brawl on the Wii. And then I decided that I was pretty excited for this one, too.

Starfield

I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS YET BUT IT’S A SINGLE PLAYER BETHESDA RPG IN SPACE SO THAT’S COOL

Fallout 76

I’ve always been more of an Elder Scrolls guy rather than a Fallout guy. I’ve played a couple hours of Fallout 4 and I feel like that’s the one that I could really get into, though, so seeing Fallout 76 and how it’s modelled after Fallout 4 makes it interesting by default. The fact that it’s an online multiplayer game made by Bethesda Game Studios makes it a total wildcard that I don’t quite know what to think about. I’m going to watch this from afar as it releases and wait for the dust to settle, and the inevitable game-fixing patches to roll out.

Star Control: Origins

Star Control: Origins is based off of an older game of the same name which I’m pretty sure was a major inspiration for the Spore space stage. And anything that is similar to the Spore space stage is sure to tickle my pickle.

I’m sorry. That’s gross. I shouldn’t have said that.

Star Control: Origins looks to be a game about exploring the stars, meeting new alien races, collecting resources and engaging with hostiles. The planets are charmingly simple spheres that you can fly around on, and their simplicity looks to mean that there’s plenty of them. They’re not all trying to be totally unique. They know what they are, and they’re okay with it. I’m okay with it, too. You go, little spheres. You do you.

This isn’t quite going for the scale that No Man’s Sky did. It may, however, achieve more than No Man’s Sky due to its simpler nature.

Super Mario Party

I’ve never played a Mario Party before, but this one looks fun!

The Elder Scrolls: Blades

YEAH IT’S A MOBILE GAME but it’s also coming out on PC. As long as it isn’t driven by microtransactions, I’m down for a little distraction where I can build up my keep and go on little Elder Scrolls themed roguelike dives. Plus, apparently there’s a story mode. In short: I’ll take it!

Whatever the hell Halo Infinite turns out to be

Is there anything to say about this that I haven’t said in the header? It’s coming to PC. Woo, I think.

And that obvious one that I probably missed

Yeah, the one. Not that totally big and cool release that everyone’s talking about, but that little indie one that showed up for 5 seconds on the PC Gamer show and then left my memory. Oh, like Two Point Hospital! And Satisfactory! Okay, those are added to the list. I don’t have much to say about them, though? They cool.

what do you people want from me

My E3 Wishlist 2018 (Probabilities be Damned)

I’d like to mention that Volume 3 of my World of Warcraft Character’s Lore is very nearly finished. It took much longer to write for several reasons, but it’s almost done.


E3 is just around the corner, and while I won’t be able to watch it because I booked my holiday for the week before like a muppet, I will inevitably hide myself from the internet until I’ve watched the VODs of the streams I wanted to see. I’m a sucker for live reveals. Anyway, I thought it’d be fun to write a list of the things I’d love to see at E3, whether it’s likely, implausible, or downright impossible.

So, in the order of when they popped into my head:

Ratchet and Clank on PC

Likelihood: It’d be one hell of a surprise. I’d possibly explode.

There’s literally no evidence to support that this will ever become a possibility, but it’s number one on the list of things I’d lose my shit about if it ever became reality. The Crash Bandicoot N-Sane Trilogy and the Spyro Re-ignited Trilogy have me ecstatic (I don’t own a PS4), but while I played those games at a young age, it was Ratchet and Clank that really had me hooked, and I’m currently on a long overdue quest to 100% every PS3 title (HD remasters and PS3 originals) that has trophies. And sure, maybe I’ll throw in a 100% for Tools of Destruction and Quest for Booty, too. I’ve already completed Ratchet and Clank 2, my favourite in the series, and am in the middle of completing the first game, possibly my least favourite (but still fucking fun). Bring the original trilogy to Steam (originals or buggy remasters), give em some Steam achievements, and I’d be more than happy to do it all over again. I’d settle for a Switch port, but what I’m really after is an achievement run.

Spyro Re-Ignited Trilogy PC or Switch Port

Likelihood: All but officially confirmed for the Switch, at least.

I’m more excited about the Spyro Re-Ignited Trilogy than the Crash Bandicoot N-Sane Trilogy, despite preferring the latter during my actual childhood. This is because Spyro appeals to the older me, the one who’s played Ratchet and Clank and sees many of its ideas originating in Spyro’s world. Plus, having played some of both series’ PS1 originals recently, I think I just prefer Spyro’s gameplay nowadays.

Anyway, when multiple people asked Nintendo Support if Spyro would be on Switch, multiple people got the response, ‘yes’. Plus, if I recall correctly, the trilogy was actually listed on Nintendo’s website for a brief time before they took it down, so rumour has it they’re waiting to announce it at E3, possibly with a later release date. What I’m concerned about is a PC release, so I can hunt those achievements. I’m not as crazy about achievements as I used to be, but for platformers and classics like the games I’ve previously discussed here, I’m a sucker for it.

Diablo 3 on Switch

Likelihood: The Diablo Twitter account basically confirmed it before Nintendo hushed them up. Woopsie!

What matters most is whether the announcement would come from Nintendo, or Blizzard. I’m imagining Nintendo, as they’re rumoured to be the ones who were quick to step in and tell Blizzard to say that they had no news regarding Diablo on Switch after Diablo tweeted a gif of them pressing a plug switch to power a Diablo nightlight.

Look, basically this Eurogamer article keeps me living in hope.

Dragon Age 4

Likelihood: Decently likely!

Keep in mind that I haven’t done any research and that this is just a fun little wishlist, but apparently Bioware have been plugging away on something after Mass Effect: Andromeda. I quite enjoyed what I played of Inquisition (maybe half of the main story, a decent chunk of sidequests) and I’d totally be up for a new one.

I should probably go back and finish Inquisition first, though…

The Elder Scrolls 6

Likelihood: Not very likely. And I respect that.

Apparently, after the rip-roaring success of Skyrim and Fallout 4, Todd’s slice of Bethesda wanted to work on something new. They’ve also stated that Elder Scrolls 6 is a long way off because the technology isn’t there yet for what they want to do. (…ES6: Tamriel?) At first, this angered me. Damnit, there was demand to be met! But over time, I’ve softened to the idea. That being said, an Elder Scrolls 6 announcement would have me hyped to the goddamn moon. I’m not expecting one, and I’ve got plenty of ESO content to tide me over, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t on my wishlist.

Starfield!

Likelihood: I imagine it’ll be front and center for Bethesda’s conference

Remember how I said Todd’s slice of Bethesda wanted to work on something new? They’re working on something called Starfield (project name or game name, idk), and I don’t know much about it (like I said, no research), but apparently it’s a sci-fi RPG. And I’m talking outer-space sci-fi, not post-apocalyptic Boston sci-fi. I’m super excited to learn more about this, and if it was just Skyrim but in space I’d be… I’m running out of metaphors for excitement, bear with me… happier than a moon pig in spacemuck. I guess.

Ratchet and Clank 2

 Likelihood: Pretty sure Insomniac are mostly busy with Spiderman

Still, they re-imagined Ratchet and Clank for PS4 and the result was phenomenal. I don’t actually own a PS4, but I have watched a playthrough of the game, and the amount of original ideas from the first game that they reworked for the PS4 iteration was astonishing. Seeing as Ratchet and Clank 2 is my favourite game of the series, I would love to see it get the same treatment.

DOOM 2

Likelihood: I mean, the first game was received brilliantly. Sequel time!

Speaking of re-imaginings deserving of sequels, DOOM! I’ve played about half of the new one before uninstalling to make room for, well, anything else. (I’ve only recently acquired a long-overdue hard drive for my PC.) I can’t wait to reinstall the game and play it over. I’d love to see a sequel to the newest DOOM. I could see it spawning many sequels with possibilities of a rich universe of science and demons, and lots and lots of gore.

Also, Wolfenstein got its sequel. It’s only fair!

Spelunky 2

Likelihood: As likely that I’ll fall and die to spikes in my next run.

Spelunky 2 was announced last October, so we’re due for some gameplay and some more information on the sequel. I run a series named The Daily Rogue where I play roguelikes – typically Spelunky – and embarrass myself by dying over, and over, and over again. I’d like to do that in a sequel, too.

Halo: Master Chief Collection, PC Edition

Likelihood: A few months ago I’d have said unlikely. Now….

The point of a console exclusive is to lure someone into buying said console. They’ve never worked on me. But Halo has come pretty damn close. For many, many years I have wanted to play Halo, and when they announced the Master Chief collection I held my breath and dared to wish for a PC announcement by the end of the presentation. There wasn’t one. My dreams were crushed. Again.

Recently, a fanmade mod of a PC game named Halo Online – exclusive to Russia – became popular enough that Microsoft took notice, and shut it down. After the inevitable outcry, 343 Industries mentioned that they’ve taken notice of the requests for the franchise to come to PC. I’d be surprised if E3 2018 contained anything more than a “we’re working on it” style announcement ala vanilla WoW at Blizzcon, but I’d be ecstatic nonetheless.

Need for Speed Underground 2 HD

Likelihood: A man can dream…

Burnout Paradise recently received the remake treatment, and that’s not even that old of a game. Instead of announcing yet another Need for Speed that fails to meet the mark, why not revive a classic? And speaking of remastering classics rather than modern titles…

The Elder Scrolls: Oblivion Remastered

Likelihood: Probably not

Skyrim didn’t need a Special Edition. It’s a nice update to the game, but giving Oblivion a rework would have tided us over much more comfortably until the Elder Scrolls 6. As someone who started out their Elder Scrolls life in Skyrim, it’s hard to go back and appreciate Oblivion without all of the creature comforts that Skyrim offers.

Hell, just officially recognise Skyblivion and assist the development. It’s been in the works since the Merethic Era.

Pokemon Switch

Likelihood: If they can stop frothing about Smash for more than two minutes…

It’s confirmed that the next Pokemon game is coming to Switch, but in what form? The dream would be a full action-RPG style adventure across multiple continents, from Kanto to Alola, but that’s very unlikely. At this point, though, I am wondering if I’d welcome a remake of Red and Blue in whatever format Pokemon appears on the Switch than I would a new generation entirely. With every passing gen I find it harder to immerse myself in the world of Pokemon, but I always love the remakes.

Virtual Console Substitute on Switch

Likelihood: A few months ago I’d have said likely. Now…

They’ve announced that the Nintendo Online service is going to include a library of NES Games that grows over time. What they haven’t announced is whether this extends past NES, and whether these games will be sold separately at all. As someone who bought Switch partially because they envied the Wii U’s general console….

NINTENDO, PLEASE. YOU CAN HAVE MY MONEY. JUST DO IT.

Animal Crossing on Switch

Likelihood: It’s due, if you don’t count the mobile one.

Following on from my last entry, I’d be more than happy with just Animal Crossing Gamecube appearing on Switch. I’d be delighted to see a new entry in the series, however. I’ve always thought that the handheld entries were lacking something, and that the console ones suffered from lack of accessibility – especially on the Wii, where you had to break out the motion controls if you wanted to interact with your inventory at all. (Don’t judge me.) A Switch game would be a brilliant way to bridge that gap.

Mario Maker on Switch

Likelihood: Well, they’re porting everything else from the Wii U…

Mario Maker is my sole regret for not having a Wii U. Customisable Mario levels sounds like exactly my flavour of jam. I have a certain enjoyment for games where you throw yourself at nigh-impossible levels over and over again to gain the satisfaction of being in the 1% of people who actually beat it, and Mario Maker literally has a UI that tells you if you’ve accomplished this. GIMMIE.

Untitled Yoshi Game

Likelihood: It’s been in development for a while!

Do you really need me to justify this entry?

BADUNG

 

Everything on the Switch.

Likelihood: I will march down to Nintendo and make some very polite demands

Ratchet and Clank on Switch. WoW on Switch. ESO: Switch Edition. Runescape. Destiny 2. LEGO Star Wars. Jak and Daxter Fortnite GTA V Saints Row 3 Spore No Man’s Sky Borderlands Brain Training Atari Arcade Duck Hunt Club Penguin Getting Over It With Benjamin Foddy Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything Everything not call of duty though

My World of Warcraft Characters’ Lore: Volume 2

Firstly, thank you everyone for the wonderful feedback on Volume 1! Such positive comments! Feedback of any kind is what motivates me to write more, so without further ado, here is Volume 2. And I promise, I’m all out of Night Elves.


Sisters of Light and Shadow

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In the verdant plains of Nagrand in a village named Telaar, two young draenei sisters played among the fields. The eldest was named Aeonaar, and she was often seen scurrying after her mischievous younger sister, Dionaar. They were too young to know of Argus or of the army of demons hunting their people, but they would learn soon enough.

The sisters were often schooled on the ways of the Light in Telaar, and soon enough the sisters had grown from children into studious young women. Dionaar grew out of her mischievous ways, and despite being the younger of the two sisters, she became the more promising pupil of the Light. She was awestruck by the benevolence and healing properties of the Light, and whilst Aeonaar was no novice, it was Dionaar who advanced through their class in leaps and strides whilst her elder sister struggled to keep up.

As the sisters grew, so too did orcish aggression against their people. The orcs had been corrupted by the Legion in one of their many attempts to break into Azeroth, and as a side effect, the draenei were being hunted in alarmingly high numbers. The sisters quickly found themselves becoming wartime medics, using the Light to heal their injured friends as they stood their ground against the orcs. During these times, Aeonaar found herself motivated by her younger sister’s talent and sheer determination to right the wrongs of the world.

Eventually, an orc by the name of Ner’Zhul would bring catacylsmic destruction to Draenor after ripping the fabric of the world apart too often with his portals. The world buckled, and parts of Nagrand exploded into the sky as the apocalypse wrought its toll on the ancient land. The draenei sisters held each other close as they waited for the end, but after many days and nights, the rumbling stopped. Cautiously, they emerged from their broken village to find that the world as they knew it was gone. The sky had been replaced with the chaotic energies of the Twisting Nether; the seas had fallen away into the abyss; the mountains remained stationary in the air, defying gravity. Draenor was dead. This new land would come to be known as Outland.

Aeonaar despaired, but Dionaar told her that it was a miracle of the Light that life still persisted on this broken shelf. Talbuk still roamed, and Elekk still thundered through the grassy plains. Nevertheless, what remained of Telaar was not safe. Dionaar had received a vision urging them to journey to a region that would come to be known as Zangarmarsh, where Prophet Velen was amassing their people. The sisters rallied as many of the surviving villagers as they could, and began the long journey. They would join with his band and journey with him for many years thereafter. During this time they would make the journey to Shattrath city, and discover the naaru that awaited them there, a being of pure Light which had come to them from the cosmos. Aeonaar was enamoured with the benevolence of this being, and she felt her connection to the Light grow stronger after spending time in its presence. As for Dionaar, she had met a handsome draenei leatherworker named Dalren in Shattrath, and despite her best interests to refrain from becoming distracted from her holy mission, fell completely in love with him.

Eventually, a plan was formed to venture to the Netherstorm and take control of an interdimensional craft named the Exodar, so that they might journey to Azeroth. Aeonaar, Dionaar and Dalren all volunteered to join the expedition, and they reached the Exodar with little opposition. As they assaulted Tempest Keep in order to seize control of the Exodar, however, they met resistence from the blood elves, and a stray arrow struck Dalren in the throat, and felled him.

Aeonaar had never heard her sister scream in such a way. Not even during the destruction of Draenor.

As they boarded the Exodar, the sisters dragged Dalren with them, begging the Light to heal his wounds, to undo the hole in his throat and restore his ability to breathe. As benevolent as the Light was, however, there were limits to its powers, and Dalren had already passed beyond the mortal veil. Aeonaar knew that their attempts were hopeless, but would not give up, for the sake of her sister. Eventually, however, it appeared that there were blood elves on board the Exodar, and that they had sabotaged the ship; Aeonaar’s attention was demanded elsewhere. Dionaar refused to leave Dalren’s side, even as the Exodar shuddered and began hurtling out of control towards Azeroth through the Twisting Nether. Before they crashed, Dionaar’s eyes found the stars, and she found herself fixating on the darkness between them.

When at last they crashed on Azuremyst Isle and began making an account of the survivors, Dionaar was nowhere to be found.

Aeonaar, Lightforged Draenei Holy Priest

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Aeonaar was deeply disturbed by the disappearance of her sister. She wished to search the island, and indeed search parties were sent out to look for her and others. But her expertise with the Light was needed here, to save as many of the injured as she could. It was agonising for her to refrain from joining the search for Dionaar, but she believed in the sanctity of life above all else. She couldn’t allow those around her to perish due to her own selfish needs.

She would never find her sister in those coming months and years. Her grief ran deep, but she never felt that she had erred in her decision to serve the holy Light and heal as many survivors as she could that day. Instead, she dedicated herself to the needs of her people and the peoples of the Alliance, who had provided her people with aid when they needed it most. Over the next decade she followed armies back into Outland to slay the traitor Illidan; she journeyed with them to Northrend to end the threat of the Lich King; she travelled the world as a healer after an all-too familiar cataclysm wrought tragedy across the world; she healed the casualties of the Alliance and, secretly, the Horde during their conflicts in Pandaria. She kept herself busy, all the while keeping an ear to the ground regarding the whereabouts of her sister. After the siege of Orgrimmar, Aeonaar decided to take some time and scour the globe in search of her sister, in an attempt to put her mind at ease once and for all.

She found nothing. If Dionaar was out there, she did not wish to be found.

Aeonaar might have had time to despair, had her people’s hunters not chosen that moment to finally break into Azeroth and launch an all-out invasion. She found herself called back into the line of duty, and as events unfolded she was given the opportunity to march upon Argus, her ancestral homeland, to bring an end to the Legion once and for all.

Many draenei, upon setting hoof on Argus for the first time in their lives or in millennia, found themselves overcome with sorrow. What had once been a jewel of a civilisation had crumbled to ash, to fel rock and hatred. Instead, Aeonaar found hope. The very fact that they were able to land here and take the fight to the Legion was a testament to the determination of the mortal races and their desire to bring peace to the world. Furthermore, they met with the Army of the Light, largely composed of a sect of Lightforged Draenei who were even more attuned to the Light than she and her fellow priests were. And it was with the power of this Light that they were able to fight and to keep their allies fighting, until they finally assaulted the Burning Throne and removed the Legion’s threat once and for all.

After the celebrations, Aeonaar received a summons from High Exarch Turalyon of the Army of the Light. He was looking for new recruits, strong in the ways of the Light, to join his golden army. He explained that the Legion was not the only threat to Azeroth, or to the other worlds of the Great Dark Beyond. The greatest threat was that of the Void, a direct antithesis to the Light that would devour everything in its path until darkness enveloped reality. To fight it, he would need all the help he could get.

During the trial to become Lightforged, a draenei was confronted with their darkest, most personal fears and regrets. In Aeonaar’s trial, Dionaar appeared, blaming her for the death of Dalren and scorning her for not searching the island for her sister before it was too late. Aeonaar nearly withered before her sister’s accusations… but eventually, her rational side won out. She reaffirmed her faith in the Light and its cause, and emerged from her trial changed. Her attunement to the Light was stronger than ever before. She had become Lightforged.

Dionaar, Draenei Shadow Priest

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When the Exodar crashed, Dionaar came to her senses before many others. As she got up, she heard a moaning coming from the far side of the room. Stumbling towards the murmuring, she found a dying engineer. Shaking off her dizziness, Dionaar knelt and did what came naturally to her: she called upon the holy Light to help her heal this injured soul.

The Light did not answer her.

Dalren’s dying face flashed in her mind, and she froze. She’d been unable to save him. Did that mean that the Light had now forsaken her? But that was cruel. She had tried her best. It wasn’t her fault.

Shaken, Dionaar tried once more to heal the dying draenei, pleading the Light to help her, begging it to. But it refused to answer her call. The Light was content to let this innocent person die because it no longer believed in her as a worthy conduit.

Years of learning from the Light, of putting faith in it and revelling in its benevolence, died then and there. Dionaar would never wield the Light again. She stormed from the Exodar and did not return.

What she did not know, would never know, was that the Light knew her faith had been shaken when her lover had died in her arms. It had denied her call in order to test her, to see if she would do anything to help the dying draenei on her own. When she did not, the Light decided she was lost, and roused another nearby priest so that they may help instead.

Dionaar fled to the edge of Azuremyst Isle and found an abandoned rowboat which she used to reach Darkshore. Knowing nothing of Azeroth, Dionaar was frightened to be alone in this alien land, but knew that she couldn’t face her sister or her people again, not after the Light had forsaken her. She forged a crude dagger and hunted herself a rabbit for food. She slept beneath the stars that night, plagued by memories of Dalren dying in her arms, waking up intermittently. Once, she awoke to the clear sky and found herself gazing into the void between stars, finding beauty for the first time in the darkness. She remembered the energies of the Twisting Nether in the skies back home, how they’d frightened her. It seemed foolish now. There was a beauty in that chaos. She’d simply been too afraid of a life without the Light to dare think it.

The next morning, she awoke to an ambush. Two figures, tall and with long ears and pale blue skin, assaulted her with blasts of holy Light. Alarmed, Dionaar swept up her hunting dagger, dodged the blasts of Light and threw it in desperation. It found the throat of one of the creatures. The other wailed, and fled into the early morning mists.

Dionaar had been assaulted by a pair of night elf priests who knew nothing of the draenei as a race, but had fought the demonic eredar in the third war, the draenei of Argus that had become demons. Dionaar knew nothing of this. She just knew that she’d been assaulted by a pair of native creatures wielding the holy Light against her. For the first time, it crossed her mind that the Light may not be entirely benevolent after all, if it was sending people to assassinate her. Flinching at the sight of the dagger in the night elf’s throat – her first kill – she retrieved her makeshift weapon and dried it off, before turning and heading south.

Eventually, Dionaar came across a roaming band of people of many races. They wore purple robes and introduced themselves as the Twilight’s Hammer, a group of people who wanted to make the world a better place using forbidden magics. A week ago, Dionaar would have turned her nose up at them, but since crash landing on Azeroth, her view of the Light had been changed somewhat. The prospect of wielding forbidden powers – perhaps more powerful than the Light – to do good was a path that seemed fitting for her. After some reluctance and much thought, she agreed to be tutored in the ways of shadow magic.

Over the next few years, Dionaar would slowly be converted into a willing participant of the Twilight’s Hammer cult. After years of a subtle warping of her mind, she grew to believe that the Hour of Twilight would indeed be a desirable outcome. No more life, no more love, no more grief. The Twilight’s Hammer took hold of her grief and expanded it, exaggerated it, turning Dalren from a lover into her sole reason to be, something the Light had wrenched from her. She would have continued down this dark path had she not run into her sister.

Aeonaar was in Loch Modan, seeing to the wounds of some warriors who had just clashed with Twilight’s Hammer cultists. Dionaar’s orders were to destroy this retreating band of fighters, and at this point, she had no objection – after all, before long all life was going to be eradicated. She didn’t know her sister was amongst them. But as she crested the ridge, she saw Aeonaar gazing down at the soldier she was healing. A look of intense care was on her face, a benevolence shattered when she looked up in alarm. Surveying the fighters, Aeonaar stared right at Dionaar.

Due to Dionaar’s Twilight robes and concealing hood, her sister didn’t even recognise her.

In that moment it was like a spell had broken in Dionaar’s mind. In a literal sense, the Twilight’s Hammer had been magically altering her perceptions and her way of thinking, and this had now been undone by the surge of love Dionaar felt for her sister. In another sense, Dionaar herself now realised that she’d been a fool. She immediately turned on her band and asphyxiated them with shadow magic. Taken unawares, they couldn’t do anything but struggle feebly as they suffocated.

When Dionaar had dealt with the cultists, she turned to her sister, only to find that she had fled. Dionaar didn’t think it wise to follow.

Over the next few years, Dionaar would travel alone and help the Alliance from the shadows, saving lives with her forbidden magic in a much less direct way than she used to, when she could wield the Light. Perhaps she could never make amends for what she’d done, but she could at least bring some good into the world before she would inevitably be captured and executed for her past crimes. She felt like this was a fate she deserved, and resolved not to fight against her captors were it to ever happen.

When events on Argus reached their peak and Alleria Windrunner embraced void magic, however, those who used forbidden magics came to be seen as antiheroes more than criminals. After some consideration, a lonely Dionaar gingerly crept into the capital of Stormwind and sought out the new void elves of the Alliance. With them, she found a place in which she could control her powers and be accepted for who she truly was. It was the first time she’d felt at peace with herself since leaving Outland.

Author’s notes: The story of Aeonaar and Dionaar is a little more fleshed out and extensive than most of my other characters, so I felt the need to do something a little different for their story. This is why their story begins not as a focus on one character or the other, but as their journey as sisters.

Coming next: Various heroes of the Alliance

My World of Warcraft Characters’ Lore: Volume 1

Firstly, I’d like to apologise for the lack of blog posts from me lately! I’ve been concentrating my creative energies elsewhere. I can’t promise that this is going to change anytime soon, but in the meantime I do have quite a hefty creative post for you part one of many, and whether you enjoy World of Warcraft or not, I’m hoping it’ll be interesting to you.

I don’t RP much in World of Warcraft (although I’d like to), but I do like to give my characters a bit of backstory to motivate them through the game’s questing. All of this stuff is typically in my head though, except for a couple of times where I’ve tried to write short stories from their perspective. Turns out, writing inside someone else’s world is more difficult than creating your own. Anyway, without further ado:


The Night Elf Brothers

Kritigri, Night Elf Balance Druid

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Born shortly before the War of the Ancients, Kritigri had the unfortunate experience of watching the horrors of the war unfold during his adolescent years, ending with the Sundering of the world. Experiencing such devastation was not easy on Kritigri, and he spent many years after meditating in the wilds to try to come to terms with the amount of death and destruction that had torn apart his homeland. During the war, his younger brother Virizard had been captured by demons, and dragged back through one of their portals, never to be seen again – this had also taken its toll on Kritigri’s mental wellbeing. But after many years communing with nature and observing the regrowth of the wilds, Kritigri became inspired by the resilience of nature and pledged himself to the path of druidism. He sought out a mentor and spent many years learning to become a druid, and then worked with them for centuries in the Emerald Dream.

Shortly after the fall of the Lich King, the Emerald Nightmare grew alarmingly in strength, trapping the druids within it until they were freed by Tyrande. Kritigri awoke to a changed Azeroth. The Night Elves had formed a new civilisation named Darnassus in the boughs of a new world tree, Teldrassil, and had entered into an Alliance with a collection of younger races. Kritigri knew some of this from what his druidic peers had told him as they had entered and left the Emerald Dream, but this was the first time he had personally emerged from the dream in centuries. Oftentimes, he found it easier to work in the dream than to walk the imperfect waking world, but he could afford to dream no longer. A cataclysm was coming, one that would shatter the world anew and remind Kritigri afresh of the horrors he’d witnessed during his youth. During this troublesome time, he would vow to himself to never turn his back on the troubles of Azeroth again – as he had during the third war – and would, in time, become a venerated hero of the Alliance.

Writer’s notes: Kritigri is my main character in World of Warcraft, and therefore I’ve always considered his story to match that of the general player character quite closely. He’d save Mount Hyjal, stop Deathwing, fight the Horde on the beaches of Pandaria, etc. But writing this backstory up gave me an opportunity to give him a more unique personality to carry through those Blizzard-crafted storylines.

Tolidar, Night Elf Arcane Mage

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A mere child during the Sundering of the world, Tolidar’s early life saw much upheaval. His family were grieving over the loss of his older brother, Virizard, and his eldest brother Kritigri was growing more aloof by the day, wandering the forests of the newly broken world whenever he had the opportunity. Kritigri’s love for nature soured Tolidar’s own opinion of the wild lands, and almost spitefully he opted to remain indoors, spending most of his reclusive adolescent-hood in the family library. It was here that he discovered books relating the arcane magics and how to wield them, and before long he was experimenting with them, conjuring food for mealtimes, and generally showing off to his brothers.

It was around this time that Malfurion Stormrage outlawed the use of arcane magic.

A furious argument broke out between Tolidar and Kritigri. Tolidar argued that his use of the arcane was harmless, and that Kritigri’s amateur druidic powers were no different to his arcane ones. Kritigri tried to convince Tolidar to stop his errant ways, now punishable by death, as it was that kind of thinking that had drawn the Legion to Azeroth. In Tolidar’s eyes, however, Kritigri had become too much of a druid to see what this new law was doing to his younger brother – that it was taking away the only thing that gave him reason to be – and the argument ended with Tolidar storming from the household and going to live in recluse, where he would practice his arcane arts in private. He briefly considered joining the Highborne in Eldre’Thalas, but the betrayal of Queen Azshara was too abhorrent in his mind to be associated with even this other sect of Highborne. He had not forgotten the Legion’s assault of Azeroth, or the kidnapping of his brother.

Thousands of years later, Tolidar’s life changed wildly once again. The Cataclysm had erupted into Azeroth, and Malfurion had awoken from the Emerald Dream – along with Tolidar’s eldest brother, no less – and declared that the Highborne mages deserved another chance. For a time, Tolidar rebelled against this notion, but thousands of years in recluse had made him quite lonely, and after ages of trying to hide what he truly was, the prospect of being a part of something was too good to resist. Gingerly, Tolidar approached the mages and asked if he could join them in their sorcerous ways, but after a swift examination they declared that his magic was nowhere near refined enough, and that to temper his magic he must make better use of it. Years of stifling his arcane abilities had rendered them weak and rough, and should he wish to join them, he should help the Alliance in ridding the world of the cataclysmic threats and prove to them that the Highborne deserved this second chance, all the while honing his arcane talents. Reluctantly, he agreed. Over the coming years, he would find that he had a place among the races of the Alliance more than he ever had within his own people. Rather than returning to the Highborne, Tolidar opted to take up residence in Dalaran.

Writer’s notes: Tolidar required a bit more explanation as he’s a Night Elf Mage, but not a Highborne. Originally, he had no characteristics at all, and was simply a character I’d made to use my Warlords of Draenor pre-order boost on. But after making a Night Elf Mage named Tolidar on an RP realm who was struggling to enter an academy of magic, I realised that a similar story could be applied to my regular mage. This is my first time reconciling that RP character’s story with my boosted mage’s.

Jerrek, Night Elf Beastmaster Hunter

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The youngest child of four and born after the War of the Ancients, Jerrek did not suffer as his older siblings did. He did not witness the Sundering of the world and did not meet Virizard, the second eldest of his siblings who was abducted by the Burning Legion. Growing up in the aftermath of events he had never witnessed, he often felt like he didn’t have a part to play in shaping the world, like he didn’t fit in. As a result he was a quiet child, and while Kritigri was meditative and Tolidar was reclusive, both were at least talkatative when they were together, or argumentative later on. Jerrek simply observed.

One day, after a particularly explosive argument between Kritigri and Tolidar regarding the use of arcane magics, Tolidar stormed out of the house, claiming that he would never return. After some time, Kritigri left to meditate in the wilds, and Jerrek spoke up, asking if he could tag along. Seeing the opportunity to share his love for the wilds with his brother, Kritigri accepted. But while Kritigri rambled on and on about the types of plants and their roles within the ecosystem, Jerrek’s mind kept wandering. He enjoyed the atmosphere of the wilds, but didn’t find himself feeling any particular affinity with the flora around him. They were just… plants. What he did pay attention to, however, were the beasts that stalked the wilds around them. Jerrek had always had a way with animals, perhaps due to his quiet nature. Eventually, he began making his own expeditions into the wilds, where he would befriend the wildlife he found there.

Eventually Kritigri departed to learn the ways of druidism, and Tolidar didn’t seem to be returning either. Feeling isolated and a little abandoned, Jerrek turned to the Night Elven military to try and fill the gap his family had left in his life, hoping that as part of an army he might rise through the ranks and eventually make his mark on the world. Jerrek proved to have an innate talent for the bow, perhaps honed from his days hunting down food after Tolidar had departed. He also brought his prize falcon Wyllum with him to track and blind enemies in the field. Over the years, he would befriend many more animal companions that he could call upon in the field of battle.

Writer’s notes: Jerrek’s name in-game is actually Kritimal, a play on my username to include the word ‘animal’. This, of course, would not make sense in the lore, so I had to invent a new name for him. I believe Jerrek fits the bill. He is also my original PvP focused character, so I decided to include a military background for him.

Virizard, Night Elf Havoc Demon Hunter

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During the War of the Ancients, Virizard and his brothers came across a village that was beset by demons. Kritigri and Tolidar wanted to flee, run to the nearest band of Kaldorei troops and tell them that the villagers were being attacked. Virizard stood frozen, watching a young Night Elf child being eaten by a Felstalker while she was still alive. Her arms clawed feebly at the ground. No Night Elf regiment would be fast enough to save her, or her sister, who was frozen in horror some steps away.

Virizard told his brothers to run and get help, before turning to dash towards the village. He had no weapons or combat training. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He just had to try and help in any way that he could. On his way to save the frightened girl, however, a looming Felguard appeared, grinning down at him. It struck him over the back of the head, rendering him unconscious, before dragging him back to one of the Legion’s many conquered worlds through a dark green portal. It was the last his brothers ever saw of him.

Unfortunately, his story did not end there.

Virizard awoke in a cage barely large enough to contain him. When his eyes regained their focus and he cast his eyes around him, he initially feared that the fel-scarred world he was looking at was Azeroth. His fears were assuaged – and then replaced with larger ones – when he looked to the sky, only to see the Twisting Nether’s raging energies in place of Azeroth’s skies. The Legion had captured him, and many other elves, in order to fuel their soul machines. An eyeless Inquisitor gleefully informed them that they were being held on reserve until they were needed.

After some time, the attitude of the demons changed. They had lost the War of the Ancients, and failed to break through to Azeroth. They turned their rage on the prisoners, killing many, and torturing others. Virizard himself was tortured for many miserable years. Eventually his mind broke, and he became a gibbering mess along with many of the other Kaldorei prisoners. Finding no fun in torturing mindless husks, the demons turned their attentions elsewhere.

When a raid led by the Army of the Light appeared and emancipated Virizard and the other prisoners from their chains, Virizard’s broken mind believed it to be a trick. He fought against the Lightforged Draenei, who appeared to be a new breed of Eredar demon trying to abduct him. The Draenei subdued most of the prisoners, but Virizard managed to evade them, fleeing into the demonic wastes. He soon found a series of demon portals through which he hopped, from world to world, slowly regathering his senses until he regained his a portion of his sanity. How he evaded demonic discovery or capture during that time must be put down to pure chance.

There was no telling how much time had passed since he had been captured, nor how many years he spent hopping between worlds. When Virizard eventually realised what he’d done in fleeing the Army of the Light, he almost lost himself to madness once more. Instead, he turned to his dread into rage, and vowed to hunt the demons to extermination. Just how he’d do this remained to be seen. For now, he continued travelling between broken worlds, forging weapons out of whatever materials he could find, occasionally slaying some lesser demons or disrupting their forces.

Eventually, Virizard happened across a portal leading to Outland, and immediately he stopped. Throughout the years, he’d travelled across many scorched, dead lands. This one still had some life left in it, despite the fact that it existed in the Twisting Nether. For the first time in what may have been centuries, Virizard was able to feed himself on the meat of a living creature, as opposed to whatever fungal or lichen growth he could find left clinging to a fel-scarred rock. Furthermore, this realm harboured civilisations of people who weren’t demons. This was incredible.

Eventually, Virizard heard word of Illidan Stormrage, and his army of Demon Hunters at the Black Temple. Enamoured by the prospect of seeing his own people again – of seeing people who hunted demons with the same vengeance as he – Virizard made his way to Shadowmoon Valley, confronting the army and demanding to be given a chance of joining. The Demon Hunters accepted his request, but with a warning – each of them had a demon inside of them, and the process killed more than it transformed. Virizard wasn’t phased. He’d seen more than his fair share of torment in his life. This would be no worse.

He was wrong.

When at last he emerged from his agonising transformation, he accepted his warglaives with pride. Never again would he be helpless against the Legion’s cruelties. It mattered not to him that he would never lead a normal life on Azeroth again. After millennia of torture, he’d even forgotten his coward brothers’ names…

Writer’s note: Out of all my characters, this might be the one that feels the most like edgy fanfiction. But I feel like that’s all in the spirit of what a Demon Hunter is. Edgy felves coming to angst you up.

Stalward, Night Elf Frost Death Knight

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The druid Kritigri didn’t come out of the Emerald Dream until the encroachment of the Nightmare forced him to. These are the way events took place in our timeline. But in another, he was convinced to exit the dream to defend Mount Hyjal against Archimonde’s attacks, and from then onwards he remained outside the dream. Some years after defeating Archimonde and joining with the Alliance, Kritigri joined a Stormwind expedition into Northrend to end the Lich King’s necromantic horrors forever. Kritigri saw undeath as a plague upon nature, and stood side by side with other champions as they invaded Northrend.

Kritigri died on the shores of Borean Tundra.

Some time later, Kritigri felt himself stirring. Ice coursed through his veins, and he awoke in the belly of Acherus, one of the Lich King’s floating necropolis fortresses. The Lich King’s voice echoed in his mind, telling him to make himself useful, to grab a weapon and join the other Death Knights in an assault on the Scarlet Enclave. Eager to obey, Kritigri tested his attunement to nature, and found that he was no longer able to call upon the wilds as he once had. Some deep part of him stirred in unease, but he shrugged it off and instead picked up a pair of swords. These would work just as well.

Kritigri descended upon the Scarlet Enclave, slaughtering villagers and delivering the Lich King’s will to the fools who tried to wield the light against him. He rode alongside Darion Mograine as they assaulted Light’s Hope Chapel, and fought against the light-crazed forces inside. He slew…. he slew…

The Lich King’s will abandoned him and all at once, he felt stained by the blood on his hands.

Mograine declared that they would stand against the Lich King as Knights of the Ebon Blade, and Kritigri knew that this was the only way he could possibly begin to make amends for what he had done. But still, the call of nature eluded him. Still, he wielded his swords with a deathly, necromantic power. These were the powers with which he had to fight, and now when he touched a leaf, it withered before his eyes.

So be it. He was Kritigri no longer. Kritigri had died on the shores of Borean Tundra. He was a new entity, forever changed by his raising into undeath. Kritigri took on the name Stalward, and made sure to always wear heavy armour in public so as to never be recognised by his brothers. They would surely be devastated were they to ever learn what had become of him.

Writer’s note: I was originally going to try and find a way to bring Stalward into the main timeline using the Infinite Dragonflight or the Bronze Dragonflight or something, but found that I couldn’t do this without taking liberties with the lore and turning from roleplay into outright fanfiction, which isn’t something I wish to do. Therefore, the world Stalward exists in remains the same as the regular one except the druid Kritigri does not exist. I chose to make Stalward my druid’s alternate self because I couldn’t pass up the cool factor of having a what-if Death Knight version of my main. Also, the Alliance expedition into Northrend is not the one that takes place at the beginning of WOTLK (as the Ebon Blade plot had already happened by then) but is one that takes place beforehand.

Coming next: Sisters of Light and Shadow, and Miscellaneous Heroes of the Alliance