Category Archives: IC

Guild Stories: The Revenge of Azj’Aqir

Hello, my still faithful (I hope) blog readers. Since we’ve started the guild, I’ve been writing up summaries of our stories there on the guild Discord, but I never published them out to the public. I figured people would be interested in hearing what happened to Krasha since, so I’m sharing the Discord summaries here.

OOC

After Hellbourne received a message to call the team to the base and failed to act on it, the minions received a serious scolding. Nevertheless, at the next occasion, they arrived at Verroak’s old tower in Duskwood, the original “tower of Krasha”, and found a strange tauren, Azjan. It quickly turned out it was merely a disguise of the ancient tol’vir sorcerer Azj’Aqir. Krasha wanted us to help protect Verroak himself and Azj’Aqir as they use the tol’vir’s magic to take control of an aqir goliath bound at the tower.

The mission went fairly well, until Azj’Aqir former ally turned nemesis, Guo Shou, turned up and sent his terracotta warrior and a few hopping ghosts to disrupt Azj’Aqir’s plan. We dispatched those too, and Azj’Aqir departed with his new minion, promising to take revenge on the mogu who betrayed him.

Sensing the Krasha minions’ doubts about him, Azj’Aqir joined them one evening at the base above Stormwind for a presentation of his past, trying to make himself look better. He delivered his version of the story, where the tol’vir princess wasn’t an innocent victim, but a seducer who wanted to use the socially inept sorcerer to escape the grasp of suitors she didn’t want. Azj’Aqir claims he imprisoned her to prevent her from spreading false accusations once things went sour, and got killed because they spread in spite of it. He was then tormented for milennia, until his future servant Narmer saved his soul and, with Guo Shou’s help, put it in Moam’s body.
The Krasha minions were not entirely convinced and still saw him as a villain. That only made Azj’Aqir more determined to redeem himself.

Eventually, he invited the Tower of Krasha to join him in taking his revenge on Guo Shou for the betrayal when the hopping mogu ghost controlled the Moam body to get away from a group of heroes. The aqir colossus the group helped him take control of rampaged through a Korune base, slaughtering many mogu and arranging their corpses on an altar in some form of… art, or sacrifice, nobody knows.
Once the group reached Guo Shou himself, the mogu protecting himself proved particularly tough to kill, while the villain was busy engaging the giant bug. After a prolonged effort, the female mogu body was slain with Azj’Aqir’s help, and the emergent hopping ghost started screaming about “the machine of death being broken” and everybody’s soul ending up in the Maw, a yawning chasm of darkness and pain. Azj’Aqir dispatched the evil soul to its final destination and thanked the group for their involvement.

The Tower of Krasha had one final mission from the ancient tol’vir sorcerer. In what he claimed to be an effort to redeem himself, Azj’Aqir decided to poke a dark obelisk of N’Zoth to provoke aqir into emerging. The minions of Krasha were there to kill the emerging bugs in large enough numbers to attract the attention of their master, Prophet Skitra. With Skitra dead, Azj’Aqir theorized, not only would he gain everyone’s favor by dealing with a great threat to Azeroth, but also the aqir from Ny’alotha would be his to control.
Unfortunately, the Prophet proved to be more than everyone’s match. Much more powerful than everyone expected, Skitra kept everyone trembling in fear as he took back the control of the aqir colossus, tore the spirit of Azj’Aqir from Moam’s body, took the obsidian destroyer back, and left the group alive to “bear witness to those who defy the Black Empire”.
With Azj’Aqir “dead”, his minions were left to pick up the pieces and find a new body for their master, but Narmer paid the group handsomely for our efforts.


Guild Stories: Wayward Ogres

Hello, my still faithful (I hope) blog readers. Since we’ve started the guild, I’ve been writing up summaries of our stories there on the guild Discord, but I never published them out to the public. I figured people would be interested in hearing what happened to Krasha since, so I’m sharing the Discord summaries here. This first one was written as the events were unfolding, so it may read a little weird.

OOC

Verroak Krasha noticed a group of ogres that were always his clients had disappeared. He sent his new minions to investigate. They proceeded to stumble upon a deserted camp, with some trail left behind by a single ogre. Upon further investigation, a group of evil eyes appeared from nowhere and assaulted the group. Luckily, our adventurers dispatched them – only to see an ogre mage with strange markings walk out of a fire like it was a tent. When a harpy airdropped an arakkoa with a sword into the ogre’s back, Bul’lok the All-Seer – said ogre – walked right back into the fire and disappeared.

The harpy and arakkoa introduced themselves as Eidria Snowblind and Akrikot Yama, members of the Kabal and relatives of Verroak Krasha. They invited the group to their home to further discuss Bul’lok.

The pair explained they’ve been fighting Bul’lok and his Grimy Goons minions for a while, and they’ve come into possession of a staff he used. The staff was saturated with death magic, rotting every organic matter it touched. It acted like a siphon of souls, driving them somewhere else. It was destroyed when Calaara attempted to feed it a demon soul.

Akrikot was also in possession of a book that described one poor soul’s voyage to the afterlife, describing – among many realms of the Shadowlands – a “Maw”, led by a “dark warden”, meant to eternally punish the most vile of souls. Bul’lok appeared to be in league with a powerful entity from the Shadowlands, and the gathered adventurers speculated it might have been this “dark warden”.

They set out to find Bul’lok’s hideout in the Grimy Goons district of Gadgetzan, waiting for the pair to find them a time to air drop them.

Time passed and the two couldn’t manage a drop. So our adventurers set out on their own, sneaking into Bul’lok’s hideout. After distracting the two orcs left to guard it, they infiltrated the building and found… mostly rubbish. But something more interesting awaited them upstairs.

Next to Bul’lok’s bed was a warded bookcase. Upon discovering the ward, the minions of Krasha set up traps for whatever comes summoned. When March’all triggered the ward, two creatures named Bee Bopper and Rok the Steady appeared and assaulted the group, after falling right into the trap they set up. The quilboar and the ogre were killed, and the adventurers came into possession of more arcane books from Bul’lok, this time written in Old High Gorian.

Since the books were too hard to translate for even the most skilled mage with a linguistic spell, Hellbourne took the books back to the two birds, hoping for a translation.

Akrikot and Eirdria translated the books partially, but they proved to not be very useful. However, they did find notes made by Bul’lok, scrawled over the margins and one horrifically misspelled letter. Apparently Bul’lok and the ogre clan that used to trade with Verroak moved to an old fortress in Desolace, an orc fort built on top of a centaur burial ground. Its warlock and death-related past gives it a unique focus for Bul’lok’s magic. While we have found the missing ogres, we still need to deal with the ogre mage who took them… hostage? Or did they willingly follow his power?


The group would later arrive at the fortress in the badlands of Desolace. What they found was a fairly peaceful ogre village, and a group of ogres protesting Bul’lok’s treatment of them. The minions of Krasha attacked the ogre and successfully eliminated him before he could unleash the full brunt of his dark master’s power. In the process, a strange, monstrous creature emerged from the Shadowlands and although it was dispatched after taking a few scrapes, it threatened to return “in a more powerful body”.

Nevertheless, the threat has been dealt with and Bul’lok’s dead body was delivered to the Tower and the ogres who followed him promised to return to their old base in Feralas under the leadership of a new king, Leer.


Joe “Sells All” McGann

Today morning I had a random bout of inspiration. This is the story of Joe “Sells All” McGann, a death knight who was strangely enough an auctioneer for the Black Market. Tower of Krasha met him on Thursday while chasing some shady people trafficking humanoids.

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Secret History of the Nathrezim

Excerpt from an ancient treatise of forbidden knowledge by Thal’rakozh, the Supreme Sage of the Nathrezim Lorekeeper Order

Beware you who shall open this tome: it is not meant for the eyes of the unitiated, least off all a non-nathrezim. If you are not of our race or your mind is not ready for the third circle of initiation, this tome shall sear your mind and tear it from your flesh forever. Beware the terrible power of the nathrezim!

Some believe our race was once mortal. That we looked like humans, before we succumbed to fel corruption and grew horns and hooves, like any other pitiful mortal race would. But it is not true, for we are the ancient heritage of the Twisting Nether, older than any other demonkind, and our true origin lies not in the flesh we wear, but in the spirit of the fallen darkness. Before any mortal life achieved sentience, we already existed and were conscious of the universe around us and each other, but we bore no flesh. We were known at that time as thal’kituun, the unseen guests, the corrupting spirits of the dark who occasionally got out into the mortal realm and twisted the beings of flesh to our liking, turning them against each other for our amusement. We did not yet understand our true nature or what we could achieve, but it would soon change.

In that immemorial time, we found a world seeped in darkness, so close to turning to fel that we could infiltrate it in numbers. We saw beings of humanoid form and saw their true natures. Dark, cunning and scheming, they killed each other over the pettiest insults and feuds that lasted for generations. For ages, we manipulated them to further this bloodshed and bring their world closer to us, until finally it came so close, the doors were open to us to pour into this world. These mortals became so twisted and broken that we could bind ourselves into their flesh so thoroughly, it became truly our own. The world tipped over and wholly fell into the embrace of the Twisting Nether. This world’s name was Nathreza.

Bearing bodies of flesh but being the trueborn sons of the Twisting Nether, we embarked our into the universe to find more of our demonic kind, and more worlds to corrupt and turn to our will. We enjoyed scheming against each other as well, but we made one rule – we cannot slay each other directly, or we would become as filthy as these inferior beings of flesh. Over the aeons, we found multiple worlds prone to our manipulation, and all of them fell one by one, manipulated to turn against each other like children. Those among these lesser beings that would fall to fel corruption and become new demons were welcome to serve us… but never allowed a place at our table. They were victims and pawns, and nothing more. Only true demons, born of the Twisting Nether, were allowed to be lords.

In time, we found more races born of the fallen dark. Among them, we found annihilans, great instruments of rage who like us took mortal bodies, but one of gargantuan size and mass, perfect for their use as troops against those who would oppose our puppets in the mortal world. We found the mo’arg, a race of great ingenuity and technical talent, who enslaved the flesh of their meat puppets to machines. And we found the xetlothak, the race of great inquisitors, eyeless demons and their puppets, the hounds who would become the felhunters. Those three great ancient races of demons would unite into a great Dread Legion under our command and would corrupt hundreds of other races to join as puppets – the decadent sayaad, the corrupted Titan constructs ered’ruin, shadows of nature’s grell the imps, aberrations of the Void known who consumed the fel and became the observers.

We were lords and rulers of the mortal universe. Our Dread Legion scoured numerous worlds, until the Titans themselves took interest. The one who would be our destroyer and savior started fighting our armies. Sargeras. Champion of the Pantheon. He would send mortal avatars to worlds we invaded and single-handedly destroy whole hordes of our minions. We hated him and sought ways to corrupt his indomitable mind, but as it would prove, we did not need to do it. He found a splinter sect who worshiped the dark beings of the Void and from them learned their plans. Plans we cared not for, for we saw them as ultimately futile and remote. Yet he fell into panic and despair and turned against his own kin. He would soon free those of us he imprisoned in the accursed Mardum, and in doing so, he would be corrupted by the fel himself.

And yet his greatest triumph was our greatest failure. For we could not remain in control of the demonkind. We were bound to his will, or we would be put back in chains. If that wasn’t enough, he found another mortal race, the eredar and corrupted them, turning them into masters of his Burning Legion. We, once the true masters of the universe, were forced to play second hand to his puppets, and even sometimes the brutish annihilans would be elevated above us. But we are endless. We are older than the Titanic order by aeons, and existed for cycles beyond reckoning before the eredar were born, and we will exist for countless cycles after his Burning Crusade will end.

We will bide our time. We will endure the humiliation. When the time comes, nathrezim will rise ascendant once again. And we shall rule the universe and the false demons will be brought to heel.

Addendum by the shivarra Mahagurvi: This book is considered one of the greatest heresies against the Burning Crusade and the divine Sargeras. Sharing and espousing the views inscribed within carries with it the greatest punishment in the Burning Legion – obliteration within the Twisting Nether and the true, final death it carries with it. All copies shall be found and destroyed when possible, or sealed in planes beyond the reach of any soul, mortal or fel.


A new world awaits. Join me!

VerroakArtAvatar

Denizens of Azeroth and Outland! And Draenor too, if you still care about this universe. I bear news to you, that should be of interest to all of you. I would call you heroes, like your pretentious leaders do, but we all know you’re no heroes. The big “heroes”, the ponces running around with the artifacts, are all leaving for Argus for their big universe saving mission. And I wish them all the best, but some of us have smaller goals in mind for ourselves. Goals that directly benefit us, and not some lofty greater good. This is who I’m addressing this news to: the everyday average folks who are willing to do a job for pay.

I have found a new world. An unspoiled wilderness, filled with untapped resources, uncontacted savages and ancient ruins and primeval jungles waiting to be discovered and claimed. And this world belongs to me now. The only problem is, I do not have the manpower to have all of it charted, claimed and exploited by my own people. So I reach out to you all. Help me in this endeavour, and you shall see riches like few on Azeroth have ever seen. If you gain enough of my approval, I shall sell you small pieces of the land where you can build your palaces, strongholds, garrisons, or whatever it is you call your bases now. But first, you have work to do.

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Krashpoint: The final assault

We learned a lot about our enemy in the few weeks since the timeline was changed, and as we gathered to prepare for our final assault, we learned enough to paint a complete picture. Let me sum up here a few crucial details. My father, Tarakan Krasha, a Timewalker Watcher, fell prey to the whispers of a Void entity called X’aaztre, known by many titles, including the Unspeakable One and the King in Yellow. Possessed, he changed the timeline, causing my uncle, employer and mentor, Verroak Krasha, to die in his youth. Instead, his sister, Isha, survived instead and became a philanthropist who largely took my uncle’s place. This being’s homeworld is a dark place called Carcosa which, as it turns out, used to be a world known as Karkora, until X’aaztre dropped from the sky and corrupted it. Obsessed with playing with time, the entity not only made Carcosa’s timeline a chaotic mess beyond salvation, it started messing with Azeroth’s timeline and is believed to have inspired Murozond and the Infinite Dragonflight. We did not know what it wanted to do now and why it’s done the Tarakan gambit, but we knew we had to stop it or all of time was in peril.

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Krashpoint: Fighting back

After having been confronted by my father, or rather as it turned out, by the Void God X’aaztre, we all knew we had to go on the offensive. I was already doing my part back on past Draenor. It was mostly uneventful on my side. Moros at one point flew off to stretch his wings and returned a few days later, claiming he got in a fight with the Dragonmaw and feared he inspired their name. One human-looking, snake-eyed Timewalker went off to watch the Veil closely and got mauled by something, we still don’t know what. Other than that, we were mostly watching and researching. But as we were watching, other people were in much deeper trouble.

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Krashpoint: The threads tangling

After witnessing my father depart with Murozond, I knew I had to work with the Timewalkers to try to fix the mess he created. We worked out one specific detail: we had to find the original point of divergence between our original timeline and the mess altered by my father. Luckily, he wasn’t shy about mentioning, although cryptically, what he did exactly. He spoke of a “butterfly moment” way back in the past, the day Isha died in the original timeline, a glass tipped over. I knew I couldn’t just go to the past Draenor and fix the glass, because such a brutal insertion would cause certain temporal damage, and also because going to Draenor’s past isn’t exactly easy. Remember when Kairozdormu needed a special Vision of Time to do that? Yeah, and he still only went to an alternate Draenor. Going to our own, without affecting history, would be even more difficult and dangerous. Luckily, Anachronos had just the right idea.

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Krashpoint: Displaced

One day, in the middle of the day, I was working on a simple assignment from my uncle. Something really trivial, that just needed doing. He gave me the task the same morning, and I didn’t expect to see anything but him in his office. So imagine my surprise when I walk in there and there’s someone completely different comfortably sitting in his chair. The decor was a little different too, She looked kinda similar to him, but not quite. Believe me, there was no time for someone else to invade the lab, take over, and even change the decor. And them comes the real whammy.

“Who the squawk are you?” she says.

She asks me that.

The situation devolved very quickly and I had to run. It wasn’t just her that didn’t recognize me. No one did. No remembered I ever existed. I had to run, and not just run. I was being quickly besieged and had to evacuate immediately. The only way I could think of was crushing a fel crystal and riding on its power to some place safe. In hindsight, I may have overdone it a bit because… well, you can see what happened to me. But there I was, suddenly all alone in the universe. The only person I could go back to was my father, the Timewalker.

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Karnak’s Fate

Karnak angered me one last time, and this time he hit something I personally cared about. His child. No, it’s not a fatherly care, or any creepier sort of old man caring about a small child. Anyone following me should know that child of his, Nef, is special. Because he spent his entire life in the Nexus and couldn’t have children there, his biology was saturated with Nexus energies. So when finally had a child in this dimension, all these energies transferred and she spawned with unusual magical energy tied to her even before birth. We call instances like these “planetouched”. Being touched by the plane of such power as the Nexus… that gave her truly enormous power. She would teleport across space, time and universes at will, with nary a thought. I had to have that power. And that little pissant warrior decided to run away with his family because I was getting snarky with people.

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