Ignoring Blazepast from now on, known god-emoterā¦
Sounds like a cool guild
thereās a reason the rotgarde has been about for 10 yearsā¦
join the rotgarde if you want a stable guild
[A chunk of history. Known to few.]
The stygian, starless sky overflowed with monstrous clouds, unseen for the infinite inky black upon which they roiled. Ceaseless tears fell from the pitch, each a sorrowful, sodden strike at the undivulged land. The empathetic Wilds responded to their overseer, their subjugator; thick branches sagged and bowed under the weight of dreadful wet droplets which pooled amongst stronger leaves, before being wept from the canopy in profuse, immediate streams. Infant, swampy rivulets trickled thick and coalesced, carrying scum and stagnation, displacing their dwellers to the manifold limits of the dense undergrowth.
Heavy footfall had sunk new mires into the grasping mulch. The troop; rotten men and women, the fallen, the forgotten, the Forsaken, had trampled into Krasarang, armed and armoured. One by one they had been consumed by the Wilds; labyrinthine foliage set astray and entangled the inattentive; shadow-stalking creatures ambushed those who drifted too close to the darkness; boggy pools of deceptive depth dragged at misplaced feet and buried the careless in thick, sucking, gurgling earth.
Blossom did not march; she shambled. Her swordās scabbard clattered loosely against leather armour, a singular companion, as foreign to her as the decaying faces of the lost scouts whose names she had not learned. It was from fortune, not fortitude, that she still stood amongst the towering vines, lone and lost in the gloom.
Faceless, nameless, soundless shapes of no form or context dug their fingers into her recently grave-bound mind, struggling to gain purchase at the cliff-edge of consciousness; uncanny, empty memories, distressing in their obscurity and unfamiliarity yet dominated by compelling and apparent betrayal. Why had they been sent to this place? Raised as fodder, to clear a path; a breadcrumb trail of dead soldiers to mark danger for those who would follow?
She fell to her knees and darkened her world, burying her face in her hands, debilitated by the plagues of doubt, confusion and sorrow laying waste to her thoughts. She wept truly and tearlessly, self-pitied wailing mangled into a screech by racked, desiccated vocal cords. Krasarangās tears blackened to tar, viscous and tangible, seeping from the disturbed ground and shifting forth, shadow-mawed and unrelenting, to feed from this fresh beacon of despairā¦
Love this guild. Havenāt been this inspired in RP before; I just wish I had joined sooner.
Despite saying some things on the forums about you guys that I regret, I do wish you all the best in dealing with Blizzardās direction in the upcoming patch.
I wouldnāt wish anyone, especially those who have put so much effort in to be thrown under the bus that is Blizzards Storytelling department.
I have to ask, but on what planet does Perroy, a player character, have the right to cancel brewfest?
Just wait 'till you hear about Christmasā¦
Azerothā¦
This planet because in theory I can roleplay whatever I want as long as I donāt break terms of service
I want to roleplay a desperate / sudden siege situation with my group and I think suspending a drinking festival seems like it would be something that fits that theme
Itās not something you have to roleplay if you donāt want to - for example, I avoid child rpers because I think that kind of roleplay is weird and doesnāt belong in my roleplay circles - itās not to my taste and it is my (and similarly your) right to avoid roleplay you donāt like
So feel free to RP Brewfest at your leisure
Didnāt the Brewfest kinda get canonically cancelled Horde-side? I didnāt see any of the tents or drunk people around during the latest cinematic.
https://i.gyazo.com/d72c7e3b6cbea0da6f88d0c625dc3c44.png
He doesnāt have the right to do that, assuming he could somehow enforce it. But seeing as he canāt, and that it is just RP, people can choose to accept him and his order, and play along. Or donāt.
Thatās all thereās to it, really.
as someone who played a loyalist to a tyrannical dictator on the run i can offer free legal advice to those of the abandoned flock of the banshee queen currently on the run to argentina
I guess youāre mad they get off scott-free so long as they swear fealthy to the new regime?
Harbingerās Soliloquy
Iād love to stick around the Hall and do some more work
Signing off reports takes my mind off the hurt
But the hour grows late and the Queen calls
And thereās a lot to do, before the end of all.Thereās roads left to travel and enemies to slay
Posters to burn, and soldiers to sway
Traitors to kill, and others to spare
While some groups yet I have to strip bareā¦
Red dust from the plains below settled on the armour of the Forsaken Serjeant, dusted off by a his claw-like hand. It was not the first time Lawson had seen Durotar from the ramparts like this. In the far distance, he could make out Alliance banners erected around Razor Hill, smoke and ash rising from the settlement. A near perfect parallel to Brill, excusing the vast difference in landscape.
More red dust kicked up as the Alliance and traitor forces lined up outside the gates. They were in shambles, barely any military structure. Orcs, Trolls, Tauren, Blood Elves, Nightborne, and every race under an Alliance banner. It disgusted himā¦ how could they betray the Horde like this? He knew what must be done.
Harbingerās Solioquy, continuation
Yet of all the tasks I need to complete
One road grows dark, and shall not see my feetā¦
For Sylvanasā legions do not have my favour
I leave her behind, and instead help the traitors.
It was unfair. No matter how much Lawson strived to be the man his Queen wanted him to be, it all came back at his face. It would keep taunting him. Each time he found a moment to himself, his sadness re-emerged. He diligently analysed the situation again, hoping that this time he could find meaning behind Her actions, but to no avail. Like a shadow, it would forever loom.