#augustday12024

[embersoftheorder]

DWC - August - Day 1 - Melee

Blue light blazed across the wet stones of the claustrophobic tunnel of Stormwind's sewer system. Light was a valued and rare commodity down in the depths of the city, but it was thanked and enjoyed by those who tread it's foul waters. Tonight's wanderers included the Inquisitor Cheryl Duun.

Her green tinged goggles glowing with soft translucence as they cut through the dark to light her hindered sight, as much as she wished the glowing blue axe in her hands would brighten the darkness more. Her armor was tightly pulled to her muscular body to keep from snagging on anything, a piecemeal of chain and plate to protect as much as offer her speed. Her boots, soles tight and thick to keep from slipping into the slow flowing muck below her, gripped to the stone floor as she swung the stone blade of her weapon into the body of another kobold.

Most would consider the kobolds an easy foe, if even that as above the ground they were considered more of a minor inconvenience to the small folk of Elwynn and beyond. But here, here they were something different. Sinister, strong, and cunning in their movements and plans. Wielding weapons far superior to the crude stone or stolen steel, these were forged with a knowledge that they should not have. It was unnerving to see at first, but now after so many months of this vicious dirty work it was dangerous.

Beside her Cheryl heard Ramses give the order to hit the wall, the soft hum of his charged up weapon roaring to life behind her. The inquisitor gave a nod, not knowing if he saw it but she focused hard into the Tre's energy and caused it to flare bright watching the rats raise their hands at the sudden flash. Her own vision dazed from her bang, but she knew what to do as she flattened against the slimy stone wall.

There was a whine, a burst, and then the cheap smell of ozone as the arcane cannon went off. There was no fire or heat, but there was force and it was enough to hammer into the clump of foe rats ahead of the small band of catchers. They didn't even scream as they were blown back and smashed into the walls, the bodies gently folding and thumping down into the murky depths below them.

"Tides," murmured the woman as she blinked a few times behind the frame of her goggles. Her hand reaching up to pull them down and around her neck as he looked back to Ramses. The draenei smiling as he stood up and shouldered the cannon, even though he needed to duck a bit to keep his horns from scrapping the top.

"I think I got them," Ramses added with a hint of humor as he smiled with his softly glowing blue eyes.

Cheryl let out her own laugh as she tried to blink her vision clearer, not daring to touch her face down here again as she had when she first started. "I think so too. Come on, we got tunnel 17-C to go."

"Always, commander."

"Just Cheryl, Ramses."

"Very good, Just Cheryl," the draenei replied back, a wide smile on his face at his own joke.

Cheryl Duun rolled her eyes with her own smile before fishing her goggles back up before they pressed on into the under dark.

@daily-writing-challenge

[kharrisdawndancer]

DWC August 2024 - Day 1 - Tournament/Melee

Braedyn ran. These days she usually ran alone. Silvermoon was quiet at all times of day, but always in these early pre-dawn hours. The stones started to warm and the breeze wound down t he street with her. The only noise was her breath and her feet on the tiles of the road. The Tournament had called many out of the city this past week. It had been a needed distraction as everyone felt the pressure of something unfolding again. Something. She kept jogging until she rounded into the Royal Exchange. The early morning rituals were performed: a quick shower, readying for the bakery's day, and opening the shop. All the while she found her thoughts returning to the tournament. She knew there were fighting tournaments. Jousts and melee, at the very least. Somedays she wondered what others would think if they saw her in her fighting leathers with her knives. Or perhaps with hands wrapped or boxing gloves. Her hand curled where it held the knife. She put it down. Perhaps another time.

@daily-writing-challenge

[fio-renze]

August 11 - Day 1 Melee/Tournament

Silvermoon City’s general peace and quiet was a far cry from how the tournament grounds had been, but Fiorenze found she couldn’t complain. The Bazaar felt as tired as she did, embracing a slower paced, lazy Sunday. 

The owner of the coffee cart near her own spot offered to trade her a cup for a couple small bouquets to dress up their table. She bought a couple donuts from a bakery stall. Chatted idly with a couple other nearby vendors. None of them recognized her except as the new flower cart woman; why would they? She’d never patronized any of these places herself when she had been titled, let alone any other noble born. 

Everything they were selling in this corner was different enough that there was no real competition, merely easy camaraderie. 

How long would this last? 

As she cut and bound stems together for pre-made grab and go flower bundles she ran through everything she still needed for her mercenary kit together. Her travel bag was still in fine form. With the right enchantments her tent would be fine in any terrain and climate. She was swapping the Pyraelia’s Perfect Penthouse scrolls for a raised cot and bedroll this time. Her boots had been re-soled, cleaned and freshly laced. At Yserina’s urging she’d slowly been swapping out her cloth training armor for supple leather — it would hold up better long term, and protect her a bit more if she wound up in a melee. 

She’d need to stop by Khaeris’ spot at some point and stock up on potions. The book vendor for a few new titles to pack, just in case, and the soap ladies for new bars for her soap and laundry kit. 

There was still no guarantee that any of it would be needed, but with the rapidity that the Song was blooming in her mind these days and Azeroth spawning memories, or nightmares, to be tackled, she knew better than to expect nothing. 

It would also be foolish to take what gentle mornings remained for granted. 

She smiled as she had a sip of her coffee and watched the market grow livelier with every passing hour. The future would get here when it got here, whether she chased it at a full sprint or a slower pace.

@daily-writing-challenge / @kharrisdawndancer

[elliember]

August 11th - Winterspring's Secrets

(Content Warning - Violence/Blood.)

The sky was fractured like glass. Cracks and splinters formed in the inky starlit tapestry and violet bled through. Vibrant and violent, her blood was singing with the chorus of whispers that slithered through her thoughts and obscured her rational mind. Her lips were cracked, bleeding and dry and her body ached as though she’d been dragged over the rocky terrain where she rested now. Ice cold snow at her back and soft fluttering flurries that drifted down on the breezes that whistled through the trees. Flakes of pure white landed on her pale skin where dark bruising decorated the left side of her face.

The sound of snow crunching under foot. A slow and steady gait. He came to inspect his work.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. And then silence.

Her lips parted and she drew in a breath, the frigid winter air set her lungs on fire and logic was nothing but shredded tatters now. She was prey if she did not move. She would be gutted here and her black blood would stain the pristine white earth and then be covered through the night if she did not move.

She needed to move.

Elliott was a beast possessed of supernatural wrath and spite. Perhaps he hadn’t realized the nature of the girl when he’d tried to maim her. The thin, elven woman was up on her feet again, despite her adversary’s best efforts. The look of pure horror had replaced the indignant arrogance that had been etched into his features not moments before. Her body moved in an unnatural way. Disjointed and uncomfortable to behold, wreathed in shadows as she lurched forward and black blood ran down her chin to drip into the snow beneath her feet. 

A distinct sizzling noise as steam rose where her tainted vitae made contact with the pristine Winterspring white, bathed in moonlight and she shuddered and fixated her gaze upon the man that had taken the liberty of betraying her trust. His perception of her became distended and enshrouded by the writhing void that she was made of and her limbs appeared longer, fingers like blackened talons and too many eyes to scrutinize his every move. The blade in her ribs was set deep at an unnatural angle and her hand wrapped around the hilt to remove it with a sickening, wet sound as she cast it aside and left an arc of black against the snow.

The low, reverberating growl that belonged in an empire of black and nothingness made his skin crawl.

Her rage would make the trees shudder. 

She set upon the trapper, man versus monster and as he fled into the Winterspring woods he would know palpable terror at the sound of her footfalls giving chase. He’d roused something primordial and ruthless when he attempted to capitalize upon her bloodline and her sibling’s good-will. 

Everlook was a distant dream. He collapsed in a ravine, panting and gasping for breath as he quickly clasped his hand over his mouth and sweat-stained face, looking up fearfully. Flurries against the night sky, lit by the moon above. It was almost peaceful. But the shadows skittered and reached for him.

He felt the scrape of her nails along the nape of his neck and he spun quickly to swing wildly, throwing himself off balance as there was nothing but the quiet of the ravine to surround him. He panted and turned, a terrified gleam in his eyes as every shadow and stone set his fears and anxieties on high. A writhing whispering voice echoed through the ravine and the sound of small stones tumbling down the rock wall made him flee forward without hesitation.

Intercepted by the void-infested elf that he’d tried to murder to further line his wallet after her brother had turned his business away. A violent sort of dance began. She led and he stumbled. The sort of dance with a human trying to cling to the last shreds of his life. For any blow he dealt her, she would reciprocate in kind, dragging out his fate into the early morning hours as she picked his psyche apart before eviscerating him and leaving his head on the main road headed out toward Everlook. His tongue and his eyes had been removed and vulgar runes cut into his forehead that looked to be of Shath’yar origin. The rest of his miserable corpse likely lined the bellies of the beasts in the woods, be it bears or sabers.

It had been a peaceful night. And his decision to force a blade between her ribs had been the catalyst to the violence that had erupted and the melee that had settled how his chapter would end.

@daily-writing-challenge

[wowtalesofadventurers]

Onluun the warrior

A World of Warcraft fanfiction for @daily-writing-challenge event day 1 prompt melee featuring my Draenei warrior Onluun.

Onluun ready his sword against the fel orcs whose challenge him with their blades and axes. Onluun remember the horrors that these orcs has brought to his people and it fill him with rage. Soon, his blade and the steel of the orcs clash until his sword turn red with their blood as Onluun slay all three orcs and it didn't bother Onluun to his shock.

[iruthomlogs]

World of Warcraft tournament

This World of Warcraft fanfiction is for @daily-writing-challenge August day 1 tournament, but I got tired and missed the date. Anyway, here it is.

Wanda the paladin and her team enter the Argent Tournament to prove themselves to fight the Lich King along with Lucan and his friends. Highlord Tirion Fordring call out, "Welcome, champions! You have heard the call of the Argent Crusade and you have boldly answered! it is here, in the Crusaders' Coliseum, that you will face your greatest challenges. Those of you who survive the rigors of the coliseum will join the Argent Crusade on its march to Icecrown Citadel."

In the third round of the tournament, Wand and her team face off against their Horde counterpart Grom's War Band.

[legofanguy1999]

Dragon Ball Xenoverse Melee

A Dragon Ball Xenoverse fanfiction for @daily-writing-challenge event Daily Writing Challenge August 2024 day 1 prompt melee featuring my Dragon Ball Xenoverse oc Chill.

Chill hit hard against her training dummy, causing it to break in many pieces. Chill then ask the coach of the gym, "Alright, I need a new dummy." while the coach was still stunned.

[lolinuyashazeldafan]

Daily Writing Challenge August Splatoon Tournament

A Splatoon fanfiction for @daily-writing-challenge Daily Writing Challenge August 2024 day 1 tournament featuring my Inkling girl oc Stephanine. I soon realized that I based Stephanine parents after @tamarinfrog Splatoon oc Whinter and Clementine.

At their house, a family watched the Splatfest on TV, which the little girl Stephanine amazed at watching her first Splatfest. Stephanine's father tell her daughter, "You know, Stephanine, daddy was a Splatfest challenger back in the day and he was a nightmare with his splating." Stephanine was taken in by her father story and she ask him, "Why did you stop playing Splatfest anymore, daddy?" and Stephanine's father reply as his face turn red, "Mommy keep getting daddy out." which Stephanine's mother chuckle at remembering those days of their teenage years.