Post by Patty
((Page 3 can be found
here. As usual, leave feedback after reading please - be it positive or negative. Enjoy.))
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A pair of smooth looking hands violently ripped a poster from the wall in Silvermoon.
”Before the guards get to it..” Thought the Elf. They began to read out loud, as it was in Thalassian. “The Warsong are not respective at all of their surroundings…” They muttered, intrigued.
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In Thunder Bluff, a Tauren was sat down in the inn, reading a leaflet and drinking a cup of milk. “They butcher the animals, Elves, even Orcs who say they go too far with no hesitation…What would the Earthmother think?” They read, frowning.
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Shala had blacked out, and woke up feeling even weaker than she had before. Her head had stopped bleeding, but it was throbbing in pain. She quietly moaned as she rubbed her head gently. A guard turned around, and cackled. Shala scowled. “When I get out of here, I am going to kill you and feed you to the wolves.” She threatened, giving the guard a glare.
All of the guards burst into raucous laughter, before one replied “Not after the Captain is done with you.” They laughed.
”What Captain?” Thought the Night Elf, confused before holding her head again. The guards had given her some food, and some water in a bowl. She felt insulted, being fed like a dog. She took a bite of the bread, but it was rock solid. The cheese was mouldy, and the meat smelled foully. Her stomach turned before Shala decided on having a sip of water.
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Drakthog and Tal’ruk walked through the halls of this very dimly lit keep, made crudely of stones and cement.
“I don’t like this place at all, Father.” Whimpered Tal’ruk, as they walked down a completely dark hallway.
“I do not blame you. However, if we need light I can ask for that.” Said the older Orc sternly, calling for the fire Spirit to guide their path. In small gaps across the floor, small flames appeared, which they followed. It led them to a dark, bolted door. They knocked, and the door was opened loudly by two slaves to reveal a room with a bulking Orc sat at a rickety desk, sat on a seat which was reminiscent of a throne. The Orc had a large axe at his lap, and he ran his fingers across the flat end of the blade, smirking smugly.
“What brings you to the overlord’s quarters, peons?” He asked with an arrogant tone.
Tal’ruk rolled his eyes. Drakthog nudged him irritably. “Captain, we are here to tell you to stop your conquest of the land. The Spirits are in agony, which you have inflicted.” Said Drakthog politely.
The hulk of an Orc merely laughed. “Hah, what do I care for Spirits and Shaman-talk? We need more land, more power, more glory! Lok’tar!” He cheered.
“What do you know of power, glory and victory?” Snarled Drakthog, pinning the Orc against a wall, heavily breathing in anger. Tal’ruk jumped, surprised that his elderly father was still very agile.
“Wait…I have heard of you.” Remarked the Orc. “My father fought with you at Shattrath. You were an honourable blade master. Your name was…Drakthog Earthblade, wasn’t it?” He asked, wincing.
Drakthog’s grip loosened, he pulled himself away from the Orc. “How do you know my name?” He asked, shocked that his past was being brought back to him.
“I am
Overlord Kakrun Shatteraxe.” Said Kakrun, raising his head high. Tal’ruk raised his eyebrows, knowing all of the Overlords were fighting in Northrend.
“Leave the Elves and their land. Let things heal!” Exclaimed Drakthog, slamming his fist into Kakrun’s desk, breaking it.
“I will leave when you sort out your loyalties, old hero.” Remarked the captain, who returned to tempering his axe.
The two shamans stormed out of the room. “What was that all about?” Asked Tal’ruk.
“Nothing.” Said Drakthog sternly.
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Naia and Kyrael walked back to the Village. Kyrael was holding back tears, and Naia was clenching him tightly.
”He’s all mine now.” She thought, smirking.
”Is he really?” Whispered the voice again, very clearly in her mind.
”He will betray you with the first chance he gets! No one is to be trusted.” Spat another voice harshly.
Naia clenched her head again, and fell backwards. Kyrael caught her before she hit the ground.
“Are you…Sure you are all right?” He asked, clearly concerned.
“Yes, I am not feeling well at the minute. That is all.” Lied the Night Elf, wondering what was happening. She said she would head to bed, and Kyrael walked towards the inn.
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Tiragon and Sproxie walked through Auberdine, without the Gnome showing any explosive devices or her newly invented Spricklesprax-300 X-Plus. But, it was obvious she was itching to get her hands on some technology, she started twitching and rummaging through her satchel.
“Sproxie, we are out of Night Elf eyes now, we can mount up you know.” Chuckled the Human. Sproxie sighed. “Why didn’t ya tell me sooner, big shot?” Asked the frustrated gnome, before mounting her custom-made mechanostrider with turbo boosters. It was quite a sight to see her try and mount it, Tiragon laughed loudly before picking her up and putting her on the invention.
He mounted his dark horse, called Blackmane and the two rode through Darkshore, entering Ashenvale.
Tiragon uttered “A word of caution, the Night Elves are quite aggressive.” To Sproxie, who nodded.
“Don’t worry…I get’cha.” She sighed.