Raelia’s Penance

It was an early evening on the Lehba Island. Sun has already set thanks to Anzulekk’s twin world, hanging in the sky right on the horizon. Despite that, it still wasn’t too dark. With his office awash in the twilight, Menrim was preparing to leave for his quarters when the doors opened. It was Raelia Sunspear, his felblood elf assistant. She was still calm and somewhat happy, not knowing what Verroak would soon want of her.

“Raelia,” Menrim said to welcome her, “I see you’re back from the mainland.” She spent most of the day commanding the Ivarindian peasants who were building the village where they would live together with the refugees Anzulekk would invite to flee from Azeroth’s certain and urgent doom.

“Yes. If you do not mind, I will just leave the documents and go back to my quarters.” She calmly walked to her desk, but before she could do what she planned, Menrim interrupted her.

“Actually,” he said, “boss wanted to talk to you.”

She sneered snidely. “What does the old coot want this time? Ran out of bird seed?”

Menrim wasn’t laughing at her jokes. He does not often joke, and he got tired of the bird jokes as well. “You’ll have to talk to him.”

“Fine,” she said putting down her paper stack, “I’ll go to his study right away.”

“Not his study,” Menrim said, pointing through the window. “He’s waiting for you at the world tree. Come.” He came out from behind the desk and grabbed his bag, putting it across his shoulder.

She chuckled. “You’ll be escorting me? My knight in shining armor. Only without the armor…” She looked across Menrim’s leonine centauric lower body. “But you got the horse parts alright.” They exchanged concerned looks after that last remark. “Not what I meant.”

“I know,” the tol’vir responded and came over to the door, waving to the felblood. “Come.”

Game Design Exercise: Open Objectives in Farahlon

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I told you more than once that I wasn’t abandoning the project – just delaying it until further notice. Of course, that notice took a bit longer than expected, but we’re back. The thing that propelled me to come back the most was constant hits I’m receiving on the Farahlon articles, as well as my other ideas that I want to develop in these posts. So stay tuned. Meanwhile, Farahlon!

Character Profiles: Orkan Krasha

Name: Orkan Krasha
Race: Arakkoa
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Class: Warlock (demonology)
Professions: Cooking, leatherworking, minor alchemy
Religion: Atheistic
Alignment (per D&D): True Neutral
Traits (per CK2): Quick, weak, cynical, diligent, patient, honest

Fake dragons and brains on legs

Usually when you call someone a dragon, it means they’re a large, flying, fire-breathing lizard. And when you call someone brain on legs it’s quite the opposite – you do not imagine an actual brain on actual legs. What my people found on Ivarind was of course the opposites of what they expected. I knew things about Ivarind ever since I contacted that Bolivia on Darfell. She sent me some information about her world, but so far it was only words on paper for me. When I had the Aperusei business dealt with, I started scouting Ivarind to see more of it on my own, or rather through the Eye of Terokk. And you know, Ivarind is a world that has never had contact with demons, so they were freaked out when they saw a floating eye on the streets. After some of that scouting I decided it’s time to send my nephew on a mission. Oh yeah, the nephew. I never wrote about him.

Infinite Azeroths: Everything

Timeline: Unnumbered, distant timeline
Character: Biker Grom Hellscream, boss of the Warsong Gang

Two older draenei commoners sat on the chairs outside of a liquor shop on the outskirts of Telmor. To them, it was just another afternoon in a dreary backwater town. They spent their time like any other afternoon, having nothing more important to do, just gossiping about their neighbours, complaining about the politicians and the lack of money. But as they were busy with their daily rout, an ear-splitting noise began to reach them. One of them looked out into the distance and saw something they both hated – a gang of motorcycle-riding orcs, wearing leather and metal chains and shouting like madmen to the wind. In front of their column, a loud and proud leader of the gang – Grommash Hellscream. The two men quickly sat politely in their chairs, pretending not to see the commotion. When the loud noise of the orcish motorbikes passed, they looked at each other.

“Them orcs,” one of the men said, “They’re gonna make trouble, I tell ya.”

Infinite Azeroths: Trollbane

Timeline: Azeroth-31
Character: Galen Trollbane, Chieftain of the Arathi Clan

Galen sat in his tent, calmly eating grapes and drinking wine from golden goblets. Although the tent was full of jewelry and luxury goods, it was clear they were not bought or produced by his people. These were spoils of war, taken from cities and traders and haphazardly thrown about the tent to present them to their leader. Although there were still stains of blood on Galen’s skin and leather jerkin, he didn’t seem concerned – he was resting after a long battle and taking in everything he managed to take from his enemy. But his enemy didn’t produce most of it either – they were dangerous savages, invaders from another world who burn and pillage everything in their path. The orcs, as they call themselves, were however unlucky to ever step on the lands of the Arathi Clan – because the humans were just as savage.

Kingdoms of Azeroth

Previously on Arakkoa Chronicles: Enter the Nexus

When I realized I was in an alternate timeline, I needed some way to find out what exactly is going on. I shifted to flight form and flew around the town, looking for clues. Then I noticed a big statue of Medivh in the graveyard and to my surprise, Medivh has died two years prior in “mysterious circumstances”, and the plaque was dedicated by his apprentice – in this timeline, Prince Anduin Wrynn. Close by was the grave of King Llane Wrynn who died several years ago in a hunting accident. Medivh’s death was a surprising turn of events, but it could mean two things – someone realized his plans and got him killed, or he orchestrated for himself another host, perhaps his child or apprentice.

I needed to actually ask some people for direct information, but I knew that with no information about Draenor, my natural form would cause too much consternation. So I shifted into moonkin form and attempted to talk to the city guards. Unfortunately, they immediately started yelling at me for being a “monster on the loose”, which meant there must be no druids in here either. So I flew off and started looking for something that could help me get around. In the end, I decided to look for a human disguise in the Royal Library in the Stormwind Keep. Unfortunately, Prince Anduin was staying up late in there. And as it turned out, he wasn’t quite himself.

Anduin immediately recognized me as a Draenor native, which he shouldn’t have, given this world’s history. Then, he immediately asked if Kil’jaeden sent me. To save my hide, I complied and listened what he wanted to say. Everything immediately became clear when he started talking about his experiences from Medivh’s point of view. This wasn’t just Anduin, former apprentice of Medivh. Inside was Sargeras, the Dark Titan, who jumped host at the time of his death. Despite being allegedly so colossally intelligent, he just assumed Kil’jaeden sent me and didn’t question me much. But then again, the fact of being a Draenor native on Azeroth with no Dark Portal might have been odd enough.

Turns out that while Medivh was still in contact with Gul’dan, a version of Garrosh Hellscream from the future appeared on Draenor and manipulated rise of the Horde. Through his actions, the orcs never drank the blood of Mannoroth and formed the “Iron Horde”, which very quickly failed to either exterminate the draenei, the arakkoa or do much of importance at all. Somewhere around this time, Gul’dan was slain and Medivh lost contact with Draenor, realizing his Dark Portal plan was done for. He started scheming for a new plan, but a chance to strike didn’t come for years.

Meanwhile, a scion of a long-lost Alteraci noble family appeared in Alterac, named Daval Prestor. Yes, that’s Deathwing – but none of the humans in that timeline apparently realize his true identity. Daval Prestor managed to put himself in an influential position on the court of Alterac and got the heir of Alterac, Aliden Perenolde, betrothed to his daughter, Katrana Prestor (Onyxia). No, I do not know where’s Nefarian. In his time in Alterac, Daval Prestor took tutelage of Renault Mograine, here the young son of a knight from Stratholme, Alexandros Mograine. Prestor’s influence over the young Mograine was strong, and coupled with Mograine’s apparently naturally villainous behavior, lead to drama.

When Renault Mograine came of age, Alexandros died by the hands of “an unknown assassin” who killed him with his own sword. Renault immediately started brandishing some ancient claim his family had. Apparently, the Mograines are descended matrilinearly from the ancient Arathi kings of Stratholme, a kingdom now defunct after it was incorporated into Lordaeron. When Terenas Menethil died of natural causes about six years ago and Arthas was about to be crowned, Renault started demanding he be crowned too, as a King of Stratholme. Arthas obviously denied and Renault rose up in rebellion in response.

Through Prestor’s machinations, almost all of the nobles in eastern Lordaeron supported Mograine’s claim. In addition, Alterac, now ruled by King Aliden Perenolde and his wife, Queen Katrana Prestor, supported his claim as well and mustered their armies. Soon, he manipulated Jaina Proudmoore, Supreme Magus of the Kirin Tor, and Galen Trollbane, King of Stromgarde to stand in his support. Fearing for his safety, newly crowned King Arthas rallied King Genn Greymane of Gilneas, Daelin Proudmoore of Kul Tiras and King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind to his defense. Thus, the War of Stratholme, also known as the Great War, began.

For the first time since centuries, the human kingdoms were at war with one another and for the first time in recorded history it was a conflict of that scale, involving all the kingdoms to some degree. While Ironforge (which has conquered the Dark Irons and allied with Wildhammers) and Quel’Thalas remain officially out of the conflict, they unofficially send resources and volunteers to Lordaeron and Stratholme, respectively. By now, the war has been going on for over six years, devastating all the kingdoms and devouring some of the greatest heroes. Genn Greymane died on the field of battle, and Liam Greymane is now King of Gilneas. Alonsus Faol was killed in the siege of his Monastery in Lordaeron. Anasterian Sunstrider was poisoned by an unknown assassin.

If that wasn’t enough, Sargeras revealed to me his further plans. When he was still Medivh, he began developing a highly contagious plague with the help of no other than Archmage Kel’thuzad of the Six. That plague is meant to turn its victims into undead minions that would do Sargeras’s bidding and destroy both sides of the war. However, when the plague was still in its infancy, Medivh’s body could no longer hold the power of Sargeras and he had to evacuate. Medivh died in the dark ritual that transferred the spirit and power of the Dark Titan to the body of Prince Anduin. Now isolated on the wrong side of the conflict, he needed me to go to Dalaran and help Kel’thuzad in devising this world’s version of the Scourge.

I may be evil, but I had no desire to help with this kind of devastation. However, I had to play along and go on this mission, lest Sargeras realized something’s amiss and killed me on the spot. Using his influence as the crown prince of Stormwind, he got me the companionship of Turalyon, Abbot of Northshire, conveniently providing exposition whenever needed. This man is nothing like the Turalyon we know. Without finding the purpose in life in fighting the Horde, he became a fat and careless priest. We embarked on the long road to Dalaran, with me thinking only about a way to escape to someone who could bring me back home.

Next on Arakkoa Chronicles: Doing Sargeras’s Bidding