[H-RP] Path of Glory - WAR!

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While the Path of Glory is preparing to attend the upcoming campaign in Pandaria, we’ve recently had a lot of new members join us! As the majority are now either pandaren or vulpera, we’ve decided to make a couple of changes to better accommodate the new members:

  • Giantbender will be race-changing to tauren to fit our racial theme going forward.
  • Our new uniform will consist of fursuits, so all members are expected to wear leather. Mages and other cloth-wearers will have to swap to one of the furry races (vulpera, pandaren, tauren etc.).
  • We’ve changed our battlecry! Instead of shouting “For the Horde!”, all members will be expected to do /yell “Yiff, yiff!” when we go into battle.
  • While the guild intends to remain pro-Horde, we’re currently looking into expanding in the Alliance too. We’re especially considering opening recruitment for Worgen. If anyone’s interested in helping to set this up, please contact Giantbender or one of the officers!

That’s all for now! We hope these changes will better reflect the guild’s current status and provide a lot of unique and epic RP opportunities in the future.

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I’d dump the motley crew of Lionheart for a spot as a Worgen in Path of Glory any day of the week!

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my time to shine

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Unfortunately the Path has seen the error of their ways and will be reverting yesterday’s changes.

If you still wish to join, however, you can!

Today we are leaving for Pandaria to attend the ‘Defense of Pandaria’ campaign that starts tomorrow. The Path will show that they do care to protect Azeroth… that said, the Alliance may be put in a bad spotlight while we are there.

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Not racist, just don’t like em’.

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When your sweet cardio workout on the path of glory gets interrupted by a guildmate getting their neck snapped. https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/186581896623292417/697930347668570232/cardio.png

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The Path has a meeting to discuss their future plans, including another Path of the Outsider where a handful of the Outsiders will prove themselves worthy to the cause.

Come seek us out if you, too, wish to reignite the flames of war. Our meeting happens this Thursday, 16th of April at 8PM in Hammerfall, Arathi!

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Stormwind delenda est.

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Hypothetically speaking, if you managed to capture someone tonight can I call dibs on his stuff?

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After a long time of planning the Path has struck its first decisive blow. The former dwarven general known as Grannd Thunderbraid has been ambushed and captured. His exact whereabouts are unknown, and so is his ultimate fate. What will happen from here?

This is only the first of many attempts to plunge the factions back into war. Once news spread perhaps the Horde’s spirit will be rekindled, or perhaps they will be seen as the villains in another story.

Time will tell.

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Vallyra’s statement had cut through him like sharp scissors cut through silk, they had effectively sheared him in half. And in front of the radicals, no less.

“Something has to have made it all worth it.”

What had they achieved? Bladewing was born from a rush of excitement and a gentle nudge of peoples’ hatreds. And at the time he believed they were making a change to the world, they went out and fought. And fought fiercely but now… in hindsight, there was nothing tangible beyond their own pointless deaths.

There was no positive he could grasp tightly to find solace in.

Aerilen’s fingers roamed over the dwarven warhammer, their tips trace the patterns engraved onto it as he fermented in the past within the ruined house. The bitter sickness of regret that he had suppressed for months had now bloomed in full. She didn’t even have to say anything, just seeing her gentle face and how similar she was to Jasserai was enough. The sorrow in her bright eyes only twisted the knife further.

All there was was his Libram, but if that was true then surely he used his fellow knights as nothing more than stepping stones for his pet project? Perhaps, after a year he had come ro realise Emberglade was right after all. He was a scheming coward.

No. He wouldn’t have done that. Not his kin. Not the Order.

His temper flared and Grannd Thunderbraid’s weapon was launched at a wall. The grubby whitewash crumpled, cracked and flaked before the warhammer even hit the tiled floor with a thud.

The Libram will be completed. It must be completed. For Anethias. For Hathelios. For Elaysia. For Jasserai.

The radicals will suffice.

For now.

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Can’t stand humans, tbh

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Just don’t like 'em.

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Remember Durnholde, Remember Taurajo, Remember Doomhammer.

Hate Humans.

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There’s a distinct lack of ZULDAZAR in that list.

They broke my god damn golden dish rack.

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Remember Zuldazar, Remember Rastakhan.

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Thank you. You may proceed with the slaughtering of the boys in blue now.

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Rumours have come from the Badlands that those responsible behind Thunderbraid’s capture could be found there. It is said they already clashed with the Alliance’s forces so whether they will stay there for much longer is uncertain…

Tonight is your chance to catch us should you wish to join the so called “Spear of Vengeance”!

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There was something wrong and broken about this “Path of Glory”, for days - no - since he first ever had to fight alongside them he couldn’t quite place it. There was a deep pit of unease that had settled in his stomach that always bloomed and sprang to life every time trouble happened around them.

And now he understood why. There was no cohesion. You couldn’t rely on any of the others. All the tell tale gestures and subtle facial cues, all the communal training that he had undertaken with his fellow knights… it meant nothing here. They were all too varied and - well - undisciplined to be anything more than a braying mob. Too scattered and focused on the individual to achieve much beyond successful hit and runs. Thar’zog was too focused on some wretched dwarf, too focused on his inward vendettas for them to truly get anywhere.

Aerilen didn’t like it, not one bit. He didn’t like that he couldn’t read their emotions or thoughts at a glance. He didn’t like that if they saw something their instincts drove them all to do different things, take different actions. The Path performed like a drunkard trying to navigate their way over a tall fence, with the predictable outcome to boot. Laid here on the forest floor, upon a bed of ferns and wildflowers the idea of having to fight alongside them filled him with fear.

A fear he hasn’t felt in years, had he become numb to it? He ached. He ached from wounds that by all rights he shouldn’t have suffered, he wouldn’t have suffered them had Anethias or Emberglade been by his side. And so he laid there, bitterly fingering the damaged scalemail on his torso as the stars shone vibrantly overhead. Truly, they were all out for themselves. But the humour of him making that observation wasn’t lost on him, he’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so much.

Oh, they could cause trouble alright. Tonight was proof of it. The large red welt across his stomach was proof of it. But Aerilen feared they couldn’t deliver on it. And now they are back on Kalimdor, away from his own ends and dreams. It would be good to slip away at the nearest opportunity, return and report back to the Temple. Inform them of what has happened - to absolve himself of course - and then slip away back into the anonymity of the rank and file. After all, what if these extremists were dabbling with the void? He had to quietly slip into their structure and see what was going on.

A comfortable posting dealing with the necromancer cults of the Ghostlands wouldn’t be too bad. There was always something soothing about that suffocating gloom and dark. Feralas on the other hand loomed over him, the vines and trees and stars were all poised to strike at him if given the chance.

Tranquillien it is for now. Until he gets to resume his unspoken promise to Vallyra, of course.

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