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Posts: 26
Joined: April 28th, 2014, 2:41 pm

((H G open)) Nostalgia Trip

Postby leppender » August 3rd, 2016, 6:42 pm

((Well I have been ABSOLUTELY unable to get online until just recently (thanks to my fiance), and even after I got the internet it took me a while to work through some bugs on my notebook. Right now I'm barely making enough to pay the rent, cover my medication and pay the internet so WoW is out of the question (fiance buys the food so no I'm not starving poor).

Today I finally got around to making a trial account just to check in and see how Ravenholdt is doing, and I was shocked at how few people there were! I THINK I saw someone whose name looked familiar, but they didn't engage me possibly because I went under another name. What happened around here I must know!!!

Well for now please enjoy this small story I wrote just for the occasion.))

The hot Durotar wind felt good on the Shaman's face after so many years of self-imposed exile. The time he had spent hiding in that shattered illusion of Draenor had allowed him to build a stable, but quiet life with his family. His days were filled hunting Talbuk with Luuhk or harvesting grain heads to make flour for bread, but when the fires grew low in the dark of night he would look to the sky and gaze longingly at Azeroth. The title he had attempted to uphold and unwittingly betrayed still resounded in his mind, so that with every beat of his heart he could almost hear it again: Warbringer.

“It's good ta be back,” Chander sighed as the wyvern lifted off from Razor Hill. He watched the passing landscape with nostalgic smile, but his heart stopped with joy when he saw the distinctive spire just to the right of Orgrimmar's front gate. “I wonder if anyone'll be stayin' at the Bloodfury den, or if they're on deployment somewhere?”

Moments later he was passing over the city wall but within seconds his good mood vanished, and Chander felt his stomach do a sickening flop. Where was everybody?! The once bustling streets were nearly bare save for the usual guards, and a handful of Horde going about their personal business. Keeping his head on a swivel he boarded a lift into the Valley of Strength, and began searching for even one familiar face.

Taking his time the shaman strode around the entire city, but to his dismay he only found one person that looked vaguely familiar. She sat upon a glorious drake the likes of which he was unfamiliar, and something in the back of his mind whispered that she may have even been one of his clan. He saw no tabard on her chest but taking a deep breath he approached, “You look familiar.”

He could not distinguish the look she gave him, however her silence spoke volumes to him. He had changed over the years, and since his clan had supported Garrosh before Vol'jin took over he was afraid to use his real identity. The Orcess did not utter a single word so at last he sighed, “Guess I was wrong. Aka'magosh!” He used this phrase in hopes that perhaps she would indeed recognize him, but instead her drake's wings spread and she took off.

Taking the passage behind Valley of Wisdom to reach the spot where he had begun Chander passed a doomsday fanatic screaming about the world coming to an end. He was tempted to beat the worthless fool right where he stood, but the disappointment was weighing him down so heavily that he simply addressed the man in a weary tone. “Yeah I heard all that back when Deathwing came around, so why doncha shut it?”

It was so disenchanting to realize that all of his deeds had been forgotten, because none remained who could tell of them. Where was his clan? Considering how empty the city looked he doubted that anyone would be in the den, so it was unlikely that turning up there would lead to getting decapitated by Stonzgrinda. Even so such a fate would be preferable to never knowing the fate of those he still loved, so with a prayer to the ancestors he left Orgrimmar and headed for the den.

It was a short walk, but the entire way he could feel his heart racing as it hadn't in years. Would he be welcomed by those he had once called family? He recalled the fateful choice which had led him to choose a life of exile, and knew in his heart that if faced with the same decision again he would have done nothing different. Stonzgrinda had been his best friend, and as his second in command only Chander had any right to challenge his views. Indeed that was the duty of any second ranking officer in any clan, but when he failed to help his friend see that the troops needed more from him the cost was his honour. He never meant to drive a wedge in the clan but as more Orcs came to him with their concerns, and he failed to make his leader see the validity of those issues he found himself faced with an impossible decision. They had been begging him to challenge Stonzgrinda, but when he finally did so his voice was the only one drifting on the winds of change. Standing alone with his convictions Chander took his family and left the clan in hopes that Stonzgrinda would see the light on his own.

When he reached the spire's entrance he noticed a couple of the Horde's conscripted peons doing work, but looking up the stairs he couldn't hear any sounds coming from above. Slowly ascending the metal steps his throat tightened, and on the last landing he took a deep breath preparing to shout a greeting. “Lok'...” He stopped for the room was bare.

For several seconds all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, and when he took a step towards the window his heavy footfall sounded like an intrusion. Still listening to himself breathe he gripped the window ledge, and allowed a single tear to fall unchecked onto the dark metal frame. “Stonzgrinda...” he whispered. “Torgal... Kil'gora... HANABII!!!” He sobbed falling to his knees.

All of them were gone and nothing remained of the life he once knew. He was certain that the Warmistress was enjoying a quiet existence similar to his own, but all of the others could be anywhere in time or space (such as the world seemed to work these days). There was so much dust around the room, but perhaps his clan was too busy doing important things to think about sweeping the floor? It was possible that both the city and den would come alive after darkness had fallen, which considering the midsummer's heat was a reasonable explanation for everyone's absence. He could not flat out admit that they were lost until he had proof.

Getting to his knees Chander looked around the room through bleary eyes, “We used ta build fires an' tell tales of glorious conquests right over there. An' that's where I used ta sleep.” Crawling over to the bare patch of floor Chander curled up into a tight ball on his side, and recalled how his late sister had requested this place as the new den after theirs had been destroyed in the Cataclysm. Life wrought so many unpredictable changes but at least he wasn't expected back for a couple of days, so even if it wasn't what he remembered the weary shaman could still say that he had come home. With tears still streaming through his closed lids the former Warbringer whispered two words as a sombre slumber claimed him, “For Bloodfury.”

Posts: 26
Joined: April 28th, 2014, 2:41 pm

Re: ((H G open)) Nostalgia Trip

Postby leppender » August 5th, 2016, 9:28 pm

((So I just found out about the changes they made to trial accounts. I didn't even know about the existence of veteran accounts until I looked into it, so we'll see whether or not I stick around for a while. Some of you may have seen me on my new alts, but the limitations of a starter account make RPing with higher lvls impossible in public chat. Frankly I'm too poor and lack the energy to play as I used to, but if you see a lowbie waving and greeting people it may be me trying to kickstart some local RP. I haven't seen anyone RPing publicly yet but I hope that changes soon!))

Posts: 26
Joined: April 28th, 2014, 2:41 pm

Re: ((H G open)) Nostalgia Trip

Postby leppender » August 6th, 2016, 10:48 pm

Sitting on a wooden crate inside the smithy Chander attempted to write a letter. When he had first joined the war effort all those years ago the Orc had trained as a scribe, so he wasn't frustrated at having to continually dust his words to prevent the ink from running in such a hot environment. In fact he was glad that it was taking him a while to transcribe his thoughts, because it gave him a chance to seriously plan out what to say.

Several thoughts had been running through his mind ever since returning to Azaroth, and the former Warbringer wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. His mother was literally a rotten old Orc who preferred to stay far away from the new Horde's politics, and considering their usual power struggles he was fairly sure she wouldn't be sad to see him leave. His nephew and nieces had grown into proven young adults who could handle themselves in any situation, and even Cha'reth had mellowed out over the years which eased his heart. His son Rega'der was old enough to join him on some adventures, but he and his former mate Hanabii had long ago agreed to care for him on alternate weeks. It had been a while since they'd heard from her, but the spirited amazon warrior was known to show up sporadically so he didn't want to risk them missing one another.

After letting the unused powder fall back into its pouch the shaman examined his work so far with a critical eye. Speaking in a quiet voice that wouldn't carry over the sound of a hammer on an anvil he read it aloud.

“To my family;
When I left it was with the promise of greeting some of our old friends, and making sure the clan is still holding strong. I am grieved to report that in my time here there hasn't been any sign of our kinsmen. I don't know if they were persecuted after the siege of Orgrimmar and I don't want to say too much here, but until I can be sure that our friends are safe I'll be sticking around Azeroth. I didn't have any troubles joining the army, but just to make sure I don't draw too much attention I'll be doing grunt work from now on.

I am still the head of our family so these are the rules I am laying out for you to follow in my absence. #1 my mother is #2 compared to me and how I run things so don't let her push you into practising any old cult rituals, because the spirits will tell me if you're playing with that stuff and I'll come back to set you all straight! Secondly Luuhk is the male of the cave so his word is to be respected, unless he is acting in a way that you feel I wouldn't approve of... then you can work out any differences of opinion by knocking each other around. Most importantly I'll be coming by when I get settled in out here to pick up Rega'der, but I'll be visiting once a week to drop him off and bring him back again.”

Nodding once he dipped his quill back into the bottle, and with meticulous patience continued writing.

“Make sure to tip the merchants in Garadar whenever you go there to trade wares. Also keep an eye on our irrigation system because we've been having less rain this year, and I don't want our grain crop to spoil before the harvest. Remember to check if anyone's following after you've been out, because we don't want robbers being led to our fields or cave; yes that was a reminder for you Kil'reth.

I will always be there with you in spirit, but this is something I must do in order to restore my honour. You pups are old enough to make decisions about what you want in life, but I know your mother would never forgive me if I led you into the same sort of troubles I always find myself in. She would want you to live out your lives in a peaceful cave that you've established for yourselves, and will someday share with mates and young of your own. Who knows someday there may be a Steelspine Clan living on our land, but that is something you will have to work towards. As for me I still have a duty left to perform for the Orcs who gave us all so much.

Signed: Derlep.”

He scribbled the last word with less care than he would usually sign his name, but if his clan were considered traitors for what happened all those years ago he would still need to hide his identity for a time. He would search for those who knew him and would not mention his return to Vol'jin. It was still possible that the Warchief was too busy dealing with other issues to care about what his clan did in the past, but until he knew for certain Chander planned to tread very carefully.

Rising stiffly he exited the building and made his way to the nearest mailbox. Giving his aching joints the briefest of thoughts he dropped his letter into the slot, before turning away with a small grumble. “Ya know I started out as a drunk an' I don't think anyone'd really care if I picked it up again... at least fer tonight.”

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Re: ((H G open)) Nostalgia Trip

Postby Ayanga » August 9th, 2016, 6:49 pm

Ayanga squatted on her haunches a hand’s-breadth past the stair’s landing, scrutinizing what was before her through slitted eyes. Footprints tracked across the dusty floor, palm prints on the window ledge. She’d put off cleaning a week or so too long. They’d had guests.

Foot-and- handprints alike were too wide to be blood elf, too narrow to be pandaren or tauren, too long to be goblin. Trolls weren’t a consideration. Ayanga smiled thinly. Trolls didn’t come here. Not anymore.

Orc, then. If they’d come a-looting they left disappointed. Anything of value had been sold or cached when warnings of impending siege drifted through Orgrimmar on uneasy winds. Nothing left behind for opportunists, Alliance or Horde, to steal.

Ayanga rose and strode to the window, setting her own hands where the dust of too many months had been disturbed. Larger than hers. Most likely a man. A disappointed thief? A dream-clouded want-to-be recruit? A lost member of the clan? She possessed wit and skill enough to deal with the first two, but the third….

She scowled out into Durotar’s afternoon. She remembered all too well the retreat from the chaos at the River to the shoreline south of Ratchet; the stinking boats that carried them to the Eastern Kingdom’s swampland; the trek through the Blasted Lands and Hellfire Peninsula and finally the safety of the Mag’har village. She could not remember all who had left, had died. The fever from a ravager bite made those days a blur of strange, accented voices rising in chants from orcs with skin as brown as that of some humans.

Out of gratitude to her distant race-kin she stayed in the village. She learned to hunt and skin what prey Hellfire provided, to dig for the metals and gems hidden in the blood-colored stone, to glean the peninsula’s plant life, though greatmothers and shamans and smiths alike despaired of ever teaching her to properly prepare those harvests. She scouted, on more than one occasion bringing back word of the plans of Alliance spies and adventurers. The Mag’har dealt with such as needed. They wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

Ayanga agreed with that thinking. There was no reason for her to return to Orgrimmar. The clan had scattered. She had no immediate goal or purpose beyond survival, and that was enough.

But a month past a shaman had approached her before the morning’s meat had been spitted and relayed a colleague’s message. Her uncle lived, badly injured. Her cousin lived, badly behaved. She was needed. Her time licking her wounds was done.

Before sunset she rode pillion behind the shaman to Thrallmar, bought wind rider passage to Shattrath. There, she spent the last coins in her possession to pay the wizard who operated the portal to Orgrimmar.

She found her uncle in a house – rebuilt – as close to his former home as possible. He had stayed to the last, caught under a collapsing wall. His body too broken to wield a weapon, he eked out an existence repairing weapons and other metalwork. Tengiss had somehow gone from Bilgewater debtor to Bilgewater bet-tracker and games-dealer, and had little time for his father’s care. Ayanga shouldered that responsibility.

And another.

Bloodfury’s old Den, in the spire tower outside Orgrimmar proper. Through various methods she chased away any who sought to claim it. Not that there were many. But to Ayanga, even one interloper was too many.

She planned to maintain it, the upper floor at least. There had always been a good reason not to: her uncle’s health, her cousin’s foolishness, her own work. Convenient masks to hide humiliation and anger over what had been lost.

If this had been a Bloodfury…. Ayanga tapped a gleaming white fang with a be-ringed finger. The coals of her pride stirred, flicked out a spark. Too hot now for cleaning, and she had to fetch the making’s for Boladai’s tea. He snarled at its taste and its necessity, but the old Mag’har shaman’s recipe eased bones and joints alike.

Ayanga tread down the stair, set up an easy trot to Orgrimmar’s gates. Something from the Wyvern’s Tail to sweeten Uncle’s tea and his mood.

Posts: 26
Joined: April 28th, 2014, 2:41 pm

Re: ((H G open)) Nostalgia Trip

Postby leppender » August 11th, 2016, 3:23 am

((I am so glad you took my opening!))
leppender wrote:There was so much dust around the room, but perhaps his clan was too busy doing important things to think about sweeping the floor?

((Mok'ra Bloodfury! I apologize in advance to you and anyone else that turns up because I can't remember the names of Bloodfury who were there during that time. Due to my health I've been I've heavily medicated for years, and sadly my memory is so badly shot that several details of my years here are blurry at best. If I can't remember certain points I am sorry and I ask for your patience as they return. I'm pretty busy with doctors and in-laws right up until next week, but let me know when you're usually able to go online and I will do my best to meet up with you ingame. I prefer to do my RP and then write about it afterwards to avoid overstepping any personal boundaries. Lok'tar Ayanga!!!))

((Also giving a nod to all those who are reading this. Bloodfury let's give our viewers something enjoyable!))


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