#stahldrauf

[stahldrauf]

The sea bucked the ship to and from, the Worgen fixated on the distant shores of Kul Tiras.  Despite the bucking to and fro, Stahldrauf remained standing at the prow, hands firmly gripping the prow as his mind went over the events that led him here.

---

"There were horde ships in the area, along with a couple of privateer vessels looking to plunder. If he got out..." Denistan leaned back against the wall of the tavern, whistling lowly. "... it'd be with them. Luckily, the Arakkoa didn't choose a side, so he should be fine."

"Should. We've seen what they've done so far. An' I can't exactly join up with an Alliance force to get out there."

"Stahl Stahl Stahl... you forget your friend knows quite a few captains." That charming smile reared it's head; the same one that had gotten the two of them into so much trouble. "Give me a few days, and I can get you aboard one. You'll need to work off your passage."

---

Now, with their destination so close, the Worgen's mind struggled with the immensity of the task he set upon himself. Not only would he need to find additional passage to Zandalar, any Alliance or Horde forces could present a significant hurdle. He spent the trip fairly subdued to conceal his identity; after all, loud and brash Death Knights stood out. Instead of his usual loud rambliness, the Worgen remained introspective and helmeted, further obscuring his features. Likewise, his usual massive two hander was left behind, replaced with a large polearm. The weapon's tip ended in a curved blade; he'd miss the ability to cleave through opponents, but anything he could do to throw off possible pursuers of him personally would be useful.

It worked on the Death Knights, at least.  Managing to get through Archerus with the broken Arratok meant at least he could muster some subtlety. "I just hope it's enough."  Heaving a large sigh, the Worgen turned, readying himself for landing.  Even now,  he readied himself to explore a  new land. Stahldrauf had no way of knowing if Rekkis' saviors were Horde or Alliance.  The thought of Rekkis being ...gone didn't cross his mind. It couldn't, lest the grief and anger overwhelm him.

He's alive. He has to be.

[stahldrauf]

To Ashenvale

Stahldrauf’s mind swam as he ran back home, ignoring the whipping of branches against his fur.  They were on the move – again.  Horde. Alliance.  Frustration swelled within him, fueling his efforts; his paws dug furrows into the dirt with every lunge forward. Desertion be damned, I’m gonna get people out. With a clash all but promised, there was going to be a lot of civilians trapped.

Or killed. Kenja could--

Cold dread filled him, stopping him in his tracks. Mixed with shame, thoughts of his former compatriot stilled him.  So focused on this new substance, the two would ignore any machinations the Deathlord put in motion until it was too late to stop them. Shaking his head, the Death Knight grit his teeth, resuming his flight.  If he had any doubts left, that realization cemented his action even more. 

I need to be there. 

Crossing over into the clearing that held his home, a pang of heartache filled him. Rekkis… would want to follow him.  A well of remorse formed within him.  The Arakkoa suffered through enough. The last thing he needed was another war.  “Kid’s got too good of a heart on him. I…” The Worgen blinked, an idea forming within him that encouraged his resolve 

No, we can help.

“Rekkis, wake up.”  Half-barging in, the Worgen began collecting his things.  His paws reached for armor long un-worn, brushing off a thin layer of dust.

“Dad? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”  Stirring, Rekkis looked up, feathers puffed up as his eyes quickly looked over.  “Did you—”

“The Horde is marchin’ on Ashenvale.  I’m gonna go try to get folks out.” Piece by piece, Stahldrauf assembled his armor around him, with ease that came from years of practice.   As he worked, he looked over to the small weaponrack he assembled, heaving a singular sigh. “And I need you t—”

“I’m not staying here!  I’m not meant to hide away from battle—look what I’ve done! And you’re goi—”

“Rekkis.”  The Worgen’s voice grew uncharacteristically stern. “I need you to help me.  Assemble what supplies we can possible manage, and see if the Outcasts or Darkshire would be willing to lend aid. I’m not expectin’ a lot, but considerin’ only you really need to eat, we’ve got some stores. After that, I need ya to start moving in that direction. See if you can get supplies to Darnassus by boat.” 

“But I need to be there with you! And you know---” Stahldrauf rose his hand, waiting until the Arakkoa stopped.  

“Because yer smart, and yer kind.  If we’re gonna help them in a good way, we’re gonna need that big brain of yours, kiddo. I’m not smart enough to figure out supply lines, provisions, and whatever.”  Ensuring the last few of his armored buckles were fastened, he looked over to Rekkis. “…You don’t hafta help. You’ve been through enough, and even as I say it, I know you’re going to argue against it.  Just… be safe, okay?”  With his words, he reached out, hand hesitating inches from the hilt of his great sword before seizing it.  Strapping it on his back, he’d then grab his polearm, allowing himself one final sigh. 

In his introspection, he didn’t notice the Arakkoa slipped out of bed until those narrow arms wrapped around him, squeezing. “…Be safe Dad.  Get out there and save them.”  

The Worgen smiled, head leaning back as he looked back down to the Arakkoa.   “You too, kiddo.  Promise—I ain’t going anywhere.”  His massive paw pat Rekkis’ hand twice, the massive, gauntleted hand overwhelming the Arakkoa’s own.  It was only with the greatest reluctance that he stepped forward, heading for the door.  “Be safe, an’ be smart. Love you.” Without waiting for the reply that would still him for longer, he dipped back into the night, beginning the long trip to Ashenvale.

( @ahordeoftrouble I borrowed Rekkis don’t feel behold to anything! <3)

[stahldrauf]

Retreat from Lor’danel

“Get to the boats!”  The Night Elf’s rallying cry managed to cut through the din filling Lor’danel; the fighting had only grown in intensity.  The Death Knight found little problem in getting into the village to help—as it turns out, being a deserter meant little compared to the fighting for their hearth and home.  

Re-tightening his grip on his sword, he stepped backward. Every minute of this fight, every hour, had been a slow, steady retreat. All any of them could do now was buy as much time for the civilians to get out, and there would be no holding back. Even now, necrotic energies funneled through him, adding to the lethality of every blow.  His initial plan of fighting them to a standstill proved ineffective; for everyone that backed from the front lines, another took his place. And even now, he found himself forced back, step by step; the Death Knight’s blade swiped in large, vicious arcs, but the horde’s forces stepped in, taking every inch of free space.  

Looking over his shoulder, he spotted a Lor’danel defender getting a small crowd of civilians to the beleaguered docks. Clenching his jaw, he halted his retreat; holding his ground, Stahldrauf’s weapon moved in quicker, shorter movements. “Get movin’!  I’ll hold them off!”  Snarling, he refocused on fighting defensively; whenever one tried to step past, the two-handed sword would swing towards him, the Death Knight taking a step back to better position himself.

Even with his efforts, the Worgen soon found one of his feet falling back onto the wood of the Dock behind him.  He couldn’t dare look back; every ounce of his attention was needed to hold his ground.  Forced into the chokepoint, he took one final, large swing as necrotic energies poured from him, a sanguine circular patch forming on the ground before him. The plants within it shriveled, the small patch forcing the Orcs back, buying him a few moments reprieve.

Looking back, Stahldrauf saw the defender ushering the last of the civilians on the boat before gesturing to him.  Shaking his head, he gestured. “Go! Get to Darnassus—I can get outta here on my own.”  After a few stubborn refusals, the Worgen snarled. “GO!”, before returning to his defensive position. He bought them minutes, the Worgen fighting back down the dock.  Foot by hard-lost foot was cede, until only a handful remained.  Giving one final, large sweeping arc, the Worgen turned, lunging off the deck.  In the seconds before he plummeted into the water, he relished the sight of the boat, safely out of reach of the attackers, before sinking into the dark depths of the sea.

…

I hope they made it to shore alright.  I hope Rekkis is okay. …I wonder how many we left behind.  

Dredging step after step through the silt, the Death Knight trudged along the shoreline, under the consistent waves.  He walked for what seemed like an hour, though that seemed hard to tell. Light from above had never truly darkened, throwing off his perception. Eventually, he made his way towards shore, peeking his head above the waves. Ensuring that the beach was clear for the moment, he’d begin to haul himself ashore.  “That’s… huh. Think I must’ve taken a hit or two.”  Ichor dripped from one of his legplates as he staggered ashore.  Moving towards a rock up on the shoreline, he rolled his shoulders once before looking back behind him. The sight caused his thoughts to screech to a halt.  Teldrassil, flickering and burning in the distance, lit up the night like a distant sunset. The immolation seemed complete, wholly unmerciful. “Rekkis… Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”  Frantic energy possessed him. How stupid could he have been, sending Rekkis near a battle front? “I was supposed ta keep him safe!” He needed to get back, to ensure the Arakkoa’s well-being.  “Wait, no. Stahldrauf. Think. It’s been awhile, judging on the fire.…. Okay, they’re probably all gone. Or….” The word ‘dead’ stopped in his throat, blue eyes wavering for a moment.

“No… No. He’s smart. He probably got people out of there.”  Burying his dread with faith of his adopted son, Stahldrauf forced himself to take a deep breath. “No matter what happened, he’s not there now. … I’m kind of in a mess, too. Horde came in through Felwood and the south. Getting’ out  is gonna’ be a hassle.”  Talking himself through his unease, the Death Knight began walking into the woods.  If he stayed quiet, and stuck to the ridges, Stonetalon Peak wouldn’t be more than a day or two of travel away.  

[stahldrauf]

Your Character’s Inventory

Inventory: In a roleplaying game, inventory refers to the collection of items your character is currently carrying. Rules: List the things your Muse carries in their pockets in their everyday life. Repost, don’t Reblog. Optional: Briefly explain their significance.

In everyday life, Stahl doesn’t wear plate! Instead, he wears a more typical commoner’s outfit; if he’s out on an errand or some sort, he may or may not have a satchel on him to help carry things. These things usually include

A notebook and a small charcoal pencil/writing instrument Stahldrauf tries his best to be a good provider, but he’s never been the best at remembering things for himself. A lot of the common tasks and reminders of things he needs to do! It’s seen its share of wear and tear, as the Worgen is far from the most graceful (or gentle) individual, but there’s lot of dumb things scrawled out in it, as well as tasks and things he’d like to get Rekkis. 

Flint and Steel Stahldrauf wanders by nature, and every traveler needs a good fire.  While he doesn’t need any of the benefits he provides, he knows many of his living companions need warmth and food… both things he still enjoys, even if he doesn’t need it.  Wrapped in a small piece of leather, he always has this on hand just in case the need arises—it’s small enough to be unobtrusive!

Gold Money is money! Stahl keeps a small sum on him most times. Used to be for drinking, mainly, but he’s dropped a lot of that since adopting Rekkis.  Now, it’s mostly for odds and ends, as well as Blacksmithing or Engineering supplies. And maybe the occasional drink. 

Collar His collar has a bit of a history with him.  Originally enchanted by Kenja to keep an eye on the Worgen (and without his knowing!), he had since kept it around as a reminder of what his lack of commitment to his ideals had cost.  A mage friend re-enchanted the collar to make his body closer to  a more ‘normal’ body temperature, to help him feel some semblance of normalcy. 

Compass & a small scrollcase of maps Stahldrauf does most of his travelling by foot; when he has his satchel on him, he’ll have a small roll of maps for the different region he’s in.   The compass itself is always in a pocket; rough direction is a good thing to have in case you get caught off guard. 

A comb & a small bottle of fragrance While Stahl is extraordinarily lucky to have friends and family who overlook his undead nature, it’s not a luxury he wants to abuse.  There’s a regular morning routine of combing through his fur to both keep it looking good as well as checking for any missed injuries. In peacetime, it helps him catch any small issues, but in times of combat, it helps him look over his own body to make sure he’s okay.   A small bottle of fragrance was kept in the satchel for travel, so he could smell at least neutral during his travels.

(Tagged by @halforc-mercenary! If you’re seeing this, you should do it!)

[stahldrauf]

Catch up - Stahldrauf

“Gunnison.”  The name arrested his attention immediately; very few used his last name. Those Stahldrauf knew rarely used his last name; officials on the lookout for deserters?  Well…

“Terribly sorry ‘bout this, Richter.  One moment.”  Turning from the merchant, the Worgen centered himself and his temper. Away from the city, the death knight lacked access to the Brawler’s Guild; it always helped take the edge off that innate, Scourge-conditioned need to hurt, to injure.  Now?  Those outlets were few, and the Worgen kept himself wary against them. 

Not that doing so provided a hard challenge. Rekkis, Callathum, Tsu… People believed in him. Going against this would violate their trust, their belief in the death knight’s redeemable nature. 

So far? That helped keep the darker urges in check remarkably well.  “Evenin’, officer.”  Despite the inherent threat, the Worgen smiled welcomingly. “What can I—”

“Cut the chat, death knight. You’re wanted for dereliction of duty by both the Ebon Blade and the Alliance.” The stern hard glare of the officer was met by the Worgen’s own still-warm expression. 

“Maybe, but…. I don’t see a squad here with ya.”  Luminous blue eyes met the officers. “An’ my kid’s been through enough due ta this ongoing quibble between the Alliance an’ Horde..  I ain’t going back with ya willingly.”  The matter-of-fact statement, punctuated by the Worgen’s footfalls as he moved towards the door, side stepping the officers. 

“You can’t run forever. The law will bring you in.”  The Worgen, halfway out the door, turned back to look at the positively fuming officer. 

“Maybe, but it’s not like Stormwind sends forces to Duskwood fer anything. An’ good luck tracking me down in these forests~”   With an almost boisterous tone to his voice, the Worgen slipped out into the night. 

Duskwood was definitely close to Stormwind, but avoiding their patrols in the woods proved to be easy enough. Plus, with as much fallout from the Legion’s invasion… well, it was easy for Stahldrauf to lay low in the darkened woods.  Plus, the citizens here still faced daily dangers…. Dangers he had no problem tackling. 

After all, it seemed time to embrace the ‘knight’ part of his destiny.

[stahldrauf]

Loyalty, Humble, and Love for Stahl!

LOYALTY. -Does your character have any loyalty to any group?Currently, not at all. In the aftermath of Legion, he’s deserted both the Ebon Blade and the Alliance. The closest group he’s loyal to at the moment are the inhabitants of Duskwood, both the existing  villagers and the Arakkoa outcasts who settled there. 

HUMBLE. -How does your muse handle praise?It makes him a bit stammery, but it genuinely makes him feel good to do.... well, good. He doesn’t verbally say how much it pleases him, but it’s really, really hard to miss a goofy grin and the slight spring in his step. 

LOVE. -Does your muse have a “special someone”No; since he’s adopted Rekkis, he found himself spending less time in bars out of an inherent want to be better for his newfound son.  So not only is he actively courting less folks, he’s also less... free with his affections. 

[stahldrauf]

"DAD IS THAT A PLANET IN THE SKY I'M SCARED."

“A what? Planet?”  The Worgen looked up from what he was doing, one of his white-furred brows perking. “….The hell you goin’ on about?”  Stepping towards the window, the Worgen opened the glass, peeking his head through….

Jaw dropping, his jaw clenches.  For a few moments, he stared… And somehow, something deep in him knew…

“…Blasted Night Elves could fuck up a wet dream.”

[stahldrauf]

Stahldrauf 50 years into the future. Rekkis is no longer a young bird, but he's an acclaimed engineer and has written hundreds of texts on his craft. And then one day, Rekkis rides in on his mechanical dog, complaining that he can't get up the stairs anymore.

When you

have little need for sleep and nothing to slow you down, Blacksmithing proved

to be a rather… agreeable trade for the Death Knight.  Life had been peaceful—for decades. No

overarching threat. No power to throw the collective might of the world

against. Sure, the Alliance and Horde still fought on occasion, but even those

were skirmishes fueled by the dying breaths of the animosity.

With no war

to fight, Stahldrauf had grown to be a surprisingly skilled blacksmith.  If you asked him, he cheated. “I can get

twice the practice in; I ain’t skilled. I’m just dead.”  With the skill came the ability to smith

increasingly precise things; things that Rekkis could use.  That’s truly what kept him In the

craft—making the things Rekkis needed to advance his own increasingly

sophisticated craft. The small bird he’d found in a tree had grown to each even

Azeroth’s vaunted goblins and gnomes more than a thing or two in engineering.

Looking over

correspondence from friends across the continent, his ears flicked, hearing the

tell-tell whirring of Rekkis’ pet dog in the other room. That was normal… but

the speech he heard after wasn’t.  “Don’t

let Dad know it hurts to get up these anymore.

C’mon, help me up, would you?”

Time froze

for the death knight, the parchment falling from his hand.  It was a reality he’d come to understand,

after all. Tsuragao was a venerable elder. Fendel had long sense passed.

Zagaron and his partner, even that staunch bastard Voorus. They all were either

near the end of their mortal time, or had passed it.  Stahldrauf knew and understood this, but…

Rekkis?

Something

inside him broke when he heard the Arakkoa.

 …

Luckily, the

Worgen’s planned delivery to Sentinel Hill gave him some much-needed time to

process this.  Especially with one slight

detour.  Stahldrauf paused, feeling the

wind pass through his fur before beginning the hike up the hill.  It was a solitary outcrop, near the ocean.

The Worgen always figured that it’s inhabitant would enjoy being close to a

good fishing spot, after all. Resuming his walk up, his eyes focused on the

tomb stone.  A smile that didn’t touch

his eyes spread across his snout, his voice breaking.  

“’Ey

Cal.  Sorry it’s been a bit, but I’ve

been busy tryin’ to keep up with Sentinel Hill’s growth.  I think you would’ve liked what they’re doin.”

A half hour

was spent tidying up the grave’s area. Weeds and debris were pulled and

collected, the Worgen talking all the while.

News, updates… And even  his

latest catch off of the bay.  With his

job done, he sat at the foot of the grave, looking up at the tomb stone.

“That’s… not

why I came, though.  See, Rekkis is getting’

older now.”  His voice grew more quiet,

his tone dropping.  Crossing his arms

over his knees, he buried his head under them.

Hands gripped each knee tightly, the Worgen’s great frame giving a

single shake, wet tears splashing across his snout. After all, for all the love

Rekkis inspired… there had to be matching sorrow eventually.

“W-when it

happens, can you look after ‘im for me?”