#meddlers

[sirdolraan]

This still baffles and delights me, even as I turn to dust. Love you all, my guildmates!

[nirahsa]

Sarkareth was dead, his last words wondering if everything he'd done had always been a path to oblivion. Before he collapsed entirely on the blue stone floor of Neltharions inner sanctum within Aberrus.

Sathena felt rather conflicted about this, on the one claw there was the elation of having participated in the defeat of 'the enemy'. However on the other hand, there was the remorse of having slain a Dracthyr who until more recently had been an ally. Though she knew whatever she felt probably paled in comparison to Fate who had once been a part of Sarkareth's Weyrn and from what little she knew of her fellow Dracthyr, potentially more.

She glanced back down at the fallen Scalecommander, her mind couldn't help but wonder if this is how the other races felt when having to fight their own, the conflict of realizing what had to be done but the regret at having had to do it. It was a foreign feeling to her, she had been trained as a soldier, to obey orders and defeat the enemies she was set against. Not feel remorse for carrying out those orders, yet here she was with that feeling dwelling in her gut anyway.

The green scaled Dracthyr listened to the exchanged that was made between Fate and Lorellai with the young dwarf trying to give comfort to Fate. Though Sathena couldn't think of anything to say to show solidarity besides remarking that Sarkareth even misguided had still been a Dracthyr.

Soon however the exchange was over and the Meddler group moved to leave the twisted facility of aberrus, where its secrets could hopefully be forever forgotten.

Before she left however Sathena straightened her posture and the young Dracthyr gave a respectful salute towards the fallen Scalecommander. To a worthy foe, and a fallen comrade.

With that she took a step back, dropped her salute and turned on her heel with military precision to leave Aberrus with the other meddlers.

[commanderbragh]

Memories

The night time sounds were starting to quiet down outside as the earliest hours of the morning were beginning. The living room was lit with one oil lamp, the wick turned low. Braghaman sat in his chair, a glass of bourbon in his hand. He had tried to go to sleep, but the gears in his mind wouldn’t stop turning. Finally, not wanting to wake up Niviene, he got out of bed and ended up here.

His eyes turned towards the envelope on his desk. He had put the letter back inside after his discussion with Niv, but the envelope was left out. Slowly, he raised his glass to his lips and took another sip.

“Is this the right thing?” he whispered to himself.

——

Braghaman stood at the entrance to Honor Hold. In the distance, he could see the spires of Hellfire Citadel.

“That is where we’re going?” Braghaman asked, turning to look at the warlock beside him.

“It is,” Noctifer answered. “We need to keep the fel orcs from getting strong enough to go through the portal again.”

“Looks like it’ll be a tough fight.”

“They always are,” Noctifer responded. “Are you ready?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bragh said with a shrug. “They need to be stopped.”

——

The monsters outside Valiance Keep kept up their attack. The flyers kept swooping down on the Alliance soldiers as they defended the gates from other nerubian armies. 

Braghaman swept his shield out and battered away one of the smaller nerubians skittering towards them, then brought his one-handed mace down to crush its outer shell. The monster shook briefly then stopped moving. Bragh stayed close to his guild mates as they moved out into the field and pushed back the attacking forces. 

— —

It sounded like the tram that ran underground between Stormwind and Ironforge. But Bragh was outside, and worse than that he wasn’t even in Stormwind. Standing on the road leading to the city in Elwynn forest, he first heard the roar and then the explosions. Suddenly, without warning, it was there sitting on battlements. Deathwing. 

The fiery dragon reared its head up and let out a blood curdling roar. Braghaman’s hand reflexively reached for the mace hanging from his belt. Fear broke over him like waves and he took a step back before getting control over himself. His eyes wide in disbelief, he shook his head. Looking down at the road, he unslung his shield and began running to the city walls.

— —

“Somewhere down there is the crown prince,” the admiral bellowed from the deck of the air ship.  “We need to find him!”

Braghaman looked over the side of the air ship at land below. Already, he could see the horde forces trying to set up and alliance ships heading to intercept them. The paladin reached into a pouch hanging from his belt and pulled out a small picture. He looked at his wife and their son looking back at him from the picture.

“What wouldn’t I do if it was my son?” he asked himself quietly before looking back at the group that had been gathered on the sky ship.

“Everyone get ready!” the admiral barked.

— — 

There were hints of the Shadowmoon Valley that he had visited before. But this one was so different, he thought to himself. Where there had been barren land, now it was lush. He scanned the horizon from the walls of the baron’s garrison. Then he heard the boots coming to him.

“Commander. We think we know where your man is being held.”

“Reliable intel?” Braghaman asked, not looking at the soldier.

“Yes, sir.  We think a band of orcs a few clicks that direction are holding him. The captain is getting the forces together.”

“Good. Make sure the rest of the Dawn are informed. We leave immediately.”

— —

“Everybody ready?”

Braghaman looked around the group. Meddlers and Dragoons were gathered together, listening to the last instructions from Drogar. There were comments and people nodded. Wounds had been bandaged or healed as best could be done. Drogar took it all in and finally nodded as well.

“We’re ready,” he said as he turned to face the form of Magni Bronzebeard.

Bronzebeard responded, “Heroes, I can signal the titans ta begin. Once they start their ritual... there's no turnin back!” No one spoke up, so the form of the old dwarf began the ritual.  Suddenly, they all found themselves standing on a platform. And before them stood Argus, the Unmaker.

— —

The paladin shook his head, causing the ice cubes in his drink to clink against the sides of his glass. Without warning, his hand began to shake slightly, causing the ice to rattle in the cup even more. Braghaman grimaced as he reached over with his right hand and took the glass, setting it down on the side table. He clenched his left hand a couple of times before the shaking finally subsided.

Braghaman leaned his head back against the chair and for a few moments he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Opening his eyes, he looked down at his hand and shook his head ever so slightly.

“Definitely for the best,” he said to himself. “This is the right thing, for everyone. I can do more here. Besides, I’ve earned the time to be with my family. They’ve earned it, too.”

The paladin picked up his glass and swallowed what was left of his bourbon. With a sigh, he pushed up from his chair and took the glass back into the kitchen. Looking out the window, he could see the practice dummy in the back yard. Nodding to himself again, he put the glass on the counter and quietly made his way back to bed.

[bannylarethian]

A letter

A plain envelope, addressed to Janosis of the Tirisgarde, arrives.

Master Janosis,

I am writing you at the suggestion of Master Dolraan. I met him during a gathering called an Inkwell recently. I had made mention of a magical item that I am currently researching, an item that purportedly has something to do with portals. Master Dolraan said that I should contact you, that you might have some insight to share. I would greatly appreciate any assistance that you might be willing to share.

With warmest regards,

Ebaneth of Eastvale

[janyice]

Nightlight

Her training had been going on for close to two weeks now.  Her head was splitting with a headache after taking a shot to the temple with a staff in the morning. It was still ringing, and the student had been admonished for the strike.  Janyice kept her calm and was able to finish the match but had to call it an early day.  The healers were able to help heal the small crack in her skull afterwards but the ringing wasn’t going away.  Her mind returned to that mornings words from the master. 

“You must forget that what you think of as easy is never actually as such.  The time for action only comes when one is truly sure that the strike is ready to finish the job.”  Pan-Diao mused and smiled.  He pointed at a scroll on a wall nearby.  “You see this scroll?  This was passed down by generations of monks and warriors that trained in these halls.  It tells the tale of those that came here before you and the path they took.  You may yet still have a place upon this scroll, but remember that you must earn it.  And right now, you can’t even block a kick to your side because  you lack FOCUS”   The words, even in a memory made her wince.  She rubbed at the side of her head again, trying to make sure the swelling didn’t get out of control before bed time again.  Her hand was still a bit sore and the last pair of splinters had been removed a few moments earlier.  It wasn’t simple, but her soft exhale told her more than it would have in the past.  This wasn’t bad, it was actually doing some good.  Her master told her to think before she acted, to make sure that the rage was focused, not just ‘willy-nilly’ like it was right now.  

Her face twisted a bit and she shrugged it off.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to just take the next step and get better so she wouldn’t have to get hit so many times with that infernal staff of his.  She lifted herself from the small writing desk, and half finished set of notes and letters strewn across her table as she blew out the candle and move to her bed.  Another day tomorrow, and she was determined not to have to take another shot like todays.

[sirdolraan]

We got the meta achievement! Need to do a few over for folks who couldn't be here for the weekend, but we know how to do them all! Congratulations and thank you to The Meddlers, my beloved raid team!

[sirdolraan]

Never Wavering

(Daily Writing Challenge day 2, Feb 21 2022, prompt: Protect — Fray)

The dark, twisted head of the maul slammed into Dolraan's shield, the twisted mawsworn wielding it clearly intending to force the paladin to his knees, render him and those behind him vulnerable, but to no avail. Dolraan grunted under the strain of the tormented soul's assault, setting his feet and weathering the blows as he held the line, keeping the enemy from swarming over to attack their more vulnerable casters. He only had to hold a few moments longer before their spells were ready, and hold he did. The mawsworn slammed into him one last time, the swirling black nothing inside the armor snarling at him, seeming to come undone from rage and frustration. "May oblivion bring you the peace you deserve" he prayed, as the casters unleashed their magicks and blasted the mawsworn to pieces, the more nimble of Dolraan's allies dancing forwards to eliminate those who survived the blast. Another section of the Sanctum secured, another hallway to push through.

"You know, for all their talk of inevitability and doom, they sure break easy enough when you know where to hit them." Fink said, checking his daggers for damage and reapplying the anima-enhanced toxins he used to help bring the Jailer's servants down. The green haired gnome looked up and grinned at Dolraan, "good to know the bad guys never actually get any good at this."

Dolraan checked the grip on his shield to make sure it hadn't suffered any damage in the battle. "If they did, they'd realize that their lives of creating suffering would never bring them what they want. Anyone smart enough to figure that out doesn't cause enough trouble to get our attention." His musings were cut short by a cry from down the hall, as another pack of mawsworn hounds came crashing around the distant corner, charging at the raid team and baying a mournful, terrible sound. "No rest for the wicked or the righteous. Get behind me everyone!" he shouted, stepping forward and planting himself in the narrow gap, ready to once again hold the line.

@daily-writing-challenge

[nirahsa]

The Power of Fabulousness

((Yeah Kalthori is a Warlock in this one rather than a warrior. Probably going to stay that way as I think it fits her a bit better. Also think I’m kind of figuring out the kind of persona I want for her...maybe.))

Kalthori tapped her chin as the void elf pondered the task ahead of her. This trial thing given to her by these Meddlers was most unusual. Instead of proving her her mettle through spellwork, physical combat, or a talbuk skinning contest she was instead tasked by the Banana Lloyd to ‘Defeat a Great Evil with the Power of Fabulous’.

Odd request, logically it seemed improbable. As according to her equations Fabulousness was simply a part of the requirements to defeat evil not the sole thing to defeat it.

“So if Skill + Magic + Fabulous^2 = Evil Defeated, in order to defeat Evil it would need to be (Fabulous^2)*2…but that relies on if the equation is equal portions of Skill and Magic. Hm perhaps if Fabulous^2 = Evil Defeated – Skill – Magic…yes that works out.”

She pondered a moment longer, “Perhaps I need an expert opinion on the matter.” She channeled shadow magics through her hands before ripping open a portal, a large void hued hand reached in to pull a Felguard out and drop him unceremoniously on the ground. The Demon got up with a snarl brandishing his axe.

“WHO DARES SUMMON ME IN SUCH A FASHION!?”

“No no, I’m not to defeat evil with Fashion even though that does tie into being Fabulous.  So Mister….hm what was your name?”

“Skreegozin! And it is the name that will end in your death!” The Felguard bellowed before charging her axe at the ready.

“Oh right, I did forget the bindings…” She waved her arm towards the Felguard in a particular pattern. Large chains made of shadow materialized, slamming into the demon knocking it to the ground as more and more chains wrapped around the felguard keeping it immobile even as it bellowed angrily.

“So Mister, Skreegozin…do you use that as a battlecry? You should, charge in screaming SKREE SKREE!” She snickered, “Anyway, could you be defeated by the power of Fabulousness?”

“Nnngh…graah! Only if it was a might weapon and I didn’t use it to remove your head from your torso!” The Demon bellowed.

Kalthori starting giggling uncontrollably for several moments, the demon simply snarled in annoyance during this. The Void elf composed herself hands patting her clothes as if the laughing had moved them out of place. “Sorry, the thought of you being fabulous was a bit too much to bear.”

She tapped her chin again, “Hm Fabulousness as a Might Weapon, technically I’m not suppose to use weapons or spells in this trial. Perhaps if I turned Fabulousness into a Mighty Potion?”

Kalthori’s thoughts were brought back to reality a moment later as the Felguard growled and buckled under the chains trying to break free.

“Oh right, you’re still here, that’s all I needed, you can go back to…mayhem and slaughter or whatever unfabulous thing it is you were doing.” She said while making a sweeping motion with her arm, throwing the demon back through the portal.