I know it’s been some time since I’ve done this, but most of that time, I had better stuff to write. As in, in-character pieces about events actually happening in the Tower of Krasha. We got some new people involved in my particular circle, and I concentrated on that for the time being. But now, I return with the piece I promised two weeks ago, side stories of Farahlon. Most of these you won’t even get a breadcrumb for and you’ll have to stumble upon the right NPC in the wild. Doing these stories is not essential to your story or game progression, but they reward with some cool bits, including lore, battle pets and followers.
Tag Archives: Old Gods
The descent into Azjol-Nerub went fairly smoothly. I fully expected some troubles to crop up – some leftover undead Nerubians, maybe evil living Nerubians worshiping Yogg-Saron, maybe something else of the multiple evils that lie in the unexplored parts of that forgotten kingdom. But no, everything went swimmingly. The most trouble we met so far was a couple of bats and spiders, nothing the group of 10 people couldn’t handle. This Xarthat guy kept leading us deeper and deeper, and it was only getting darker and damper. Really, I’m a bird, I was made for open skies and trees not for cramped, nearly airless corridors. It was a slow and painful torture.
I think I owe everyone a short explanation of what this is. Once on Scrolls of Lore I did a short “segment” where I tried to convert various D&D creatures to fit World of WarCraft universe. Because that’s exactly what the infamous Appendix Three of the old Warcraft RPG did, I named that segment “Revenge of Appendix Three”. Since I posted those, Warlords of Draenor was announced and changed some stuff that made some of the propositions impossible, but other ones remain still very fitting. I’m going to post a few select favorites from there here to reintroduce some of my newer followers to what I liked doing back then. After the break follows the original text I posted some time ago.
After the troublesome previous day, I had hoped for some respite for the next day. After spending more time sailing around the feet of Kun-Lai Summit I finally ran into a lower part of Pandaria with a more accessible coast. The pandaren apparently call it Zouchin Province. It is quite peculiar, really, as everywhere else in the Northern Pandaria, the coast is covered with cliffs and only few access points to the mainland. I theorized that Zouchin Province has formed from a sediment that settled around the shattered coast after the Sundering, but the historical records proved me wrong – apparently the current Zouchin Village was once a city and an administrative region in the Pandaren Empire. It remains puzzling why Zouchin did not share the fate of the rest of the plains that once stretched this piece of Kalimdor.
I am Menrim, a scribe of the Neferset. Or at least, formerly of the Neferset. I served my tribe for fifteen years when Al’Akir’s elementals appeared to us and offered us a deal – to join Al’Akir, his master Deathwing and his masters – the Old Gods. I was among the few among the Neferset who saw the folly of such a deal. And in the end, my people payed dearly for aligning themselves with these creatures. The Neferset tribe has been nearly destroyed, and among the dead was my own brother Bathet. I am still alive because I defected. Some would call me a traitor, who changed allegiances to save his own life, but is it not them who are greater traitors? The ones who would seek to align themselves with enemies of all life and all existence just to pursue a long-lost origin of our people? I did what I had to do to do no evil. If only Bathet and others had seen what this “deal” was going to cost them, everything would look differently.
This is Tarakan. My brother told me to write something here to make sure I’m still alive. Yeah, I keep wandering off, I’m a hunter. He keeps getting worried if something happens to me. Look, brother, I’m nearly 70 years old, if I survived in the wild for so long, I’m not going to die now. Unless some crazy goblin takes me for poultry. That is not going to happen, okay?
I’m in this Duskwood now, sleeping in a tent in the north-western corner. I had to fight off some grave robbers. No, I’m fine. I didn’t disappear either. What is that alternate timeline nonsense anyway? Like I’m gonna believe you killed Kel’thuzad. Are you sure you took all your meds, Ver?
There are actual people reading this, right? Verroak is kinda crazy. When he was younger he got into some Old God cult stuff. He was never the same after that. Now he’s talking about some kind of “bikers”, tanks, star sectors… It makes no sense at all to me. Of course, the magic he actually uses doesn’t make much sense either, but… Look, I don’t know. This stuff is beyond crazy. He is actually friends with a pacifist ogre, and I didn’t even know these exist, so yeah… Maybe it did happen, at least in part.
I’m rambling on. I’m fine, I’m as healthy as a sexagenarian can be. I’m in no immediate danger. Can I stop talking now?