Written by | Posted November 19, 2013 – 4:46 pm Deconstruction

Bad things are happening in Stormwind – and beyond.

The Hand of Lothar, they call themselves.

Yva Darrows was their first target.

Tirith and Aely were their second and third.

They have since… expanded their reach and escalated their methods …

A Midsummer Night’s RP – Week of Winners, Second Place
comment 2 Written by on August 6, 2009 – 2:53 pm

WTT:RP, Too Many Annas and Lorecrafted are pleased to present the second place winner in our Midsummer Night’s RP contest.  Congratulations to Athorius of Feathermoon server for her entry You Can’t Go Home.  It was one of our most solemn pieces, for certain, and though all of our entries were well written, the poignancy of this one really struck a chord with our judges.

And without further ado:

You Can’t Go Home

“I’m sorry I’m late.” It was scary how easily those familiar words rolled off his tongue, Athorius thought, as he swung off his elekk onto the Auberdine road.

Seffani apparently thought so too, because she frowned and shifted Kaelis on her hip. The girl was at that awkward stage where she was really too big to carry, but it was still inconvenient to have her walk. However, any comment she might have made was forestalled when Kaelis let out a shriek and held out her arms to him for a hug. He rubbed his nose against hers, making her giggle, and he was painfully aware of how much he had missed that sound, even the sticky feel of her fingers clinging to his neck. There were decorative twists of gold, and orange ribbon tied into her hair, festival finery, and he cringed at how badly they clashed with her green hair.

“I made you something!” she announced proudly, and plopped a snaggled chain of fire blossoms on his head. He couldn’t help but laugh; now he clashed as badly as she did, and he hugged her again.

After a few moments he set her on the ground, keeping hold of her tiny hands, and looked up at Seffani. “I’m sorry.”

“You always are,” she said, tartly, but accurately. “What was it this time? Urgent Circle business in some godforsaken human land?”

When last he’d been home he’d still had good standing in the druidic order, but that visit had changed everything, but she had no reason to believe it. Instead, he said, evenly, “My ship from Northrend was delayed and I was forced to take the moonpath to Kalimdor. I don’t need to tell you how much caution that requires in these days.”

He did not mention the Nightmare by name, not in front of Kaelis, but Seffani understood his meaning and simply sighed. The Midsummer Fire Festival festivities swirled around them, a scent of woodsmoke and dumplings.

Then Kaelis looked up and informed him, with happy innocence, “Mommy was late too.”

Seffani flushed. Kaelis continued, “The wind was bad. Flotsam had to work against it.” The daughter of a fishing village to the north, Kaelis was familiar with the sea and the workings of the boat of living wood Athorius had woken as a gift to her mother, long ago.

“That’s alright. We’re all here now, and that’s all that matters,” he elected to reply, a peace offering, smiling down at his daughter and then at her mother. Seffani, too, was dressed in bright summer colors, but she could make anything look good. A few strands of that hair had fallen over one of her eyes, like always, and he had to stop himself reaching up and tucking it behind her ear.

He wasn’t sure why he found himself longing for some kind of connection so badly on this particular day. The only thing remaining between them was this little girl whose warm, candy-coated hands were tucked into his own. He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her my mother is dead, my father is gone, please understand this is all I have left. But he didn’t. They had loved each other, and they had been utterly unable to live with each other, and it was awful. There was nothing left to say.

Then she said those words he had been expecting but shrinking from, a blow he saw coming. “You and Kaelis should have some time together, and I was hoping to meet Sadaron, so…”

“Of course,” he heard himself say.

He felt his mouth stretch into a smile. He did not ask if she was with him that night the dead came north up the shore, if that was why Seffani had not been with her daughter. He never had. She never said. But it flickered for an instant between them, a dark shadow subject that would always linger but never be broached.

Instead, he added, “Have a good time.”

A smile lit her face briefly, sad and sweet. Almost as if she was feeling the same mix of bittersweet and angry nostalgia, she swiftly kissed his cheek, and then she disappeared into the crowd. He watched after her for a long moment, then a tug on his arm redirected his attention.

“Can we go watch the fireworks?” Kaelis asked, hopefully.

He felt a genuine grin on his face at last. “Of course. Do you want to walk or take Mou?”

“Mou!” she decided instantly. He swung them both up onto the elekk’s broad back and they rode slowly down to the dock, meandering slowly through the throngs. As they approached the beach, Athorius swerved off to the side, drawing a complaint from Kaelis.

He climbed off Mou and then set her down. “We need to honor the flames first, then we’ll go see the fireworks.”

“Why?” she asked plaintively.

He handed her a handful of blossoms to throw into the large bonfire. “The solstice marks the turning of the year, as spring reaches its height and the world moves again towards winter. That’s why we burn the flowers. Their time is almost over for this year- we mourn them, and we look forward to the harvest in the fall.”

She frowned a moment, thinking about it. “Are there flowers in North-end?”

“Northrend. And yes, there are- very beautiful ones in some parts.”

Kaelis tilted her head back, her big eyes full of worry. “Is Arthas going to burn them up too?”

That night, when the scourge invaded Auberdine, when he learned a boat got away and sailed north, Athorius rode Mou into the ground, only to find nearly all his fears confirmed. Somehow, the fishermen had managed to contain and repel the attack. Kaelis had seen things no child should ever see. Trying to explain it, he had told her that a bad man was using magic to create a deadly disease- but he had also stressed that lots of good people were working very hard to stop him.

She still had nightmares.

Not knowing what else to do, Athorius knelt down and held her tight. “No. We would never let him do that.” He was aware it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t sure anything would be.

Kaelis was still for a long moment, but at last she did toss her flowers into the flames, and then asked, hopefully, “Fireworks?”

They walked down to the beach and sat down, Athorius trying not to wince as his for-once clean leather clothes settled on the wet sand. They waited in the dark for the show.

He looked at the little girl sitting on his lap, and felt uneasy. Athorius meant what he said. The scourge army must be stopped; he had realized the importance immediately. He defied direct orders from his superiors in the Cenarion Circle to travel to Northrend and lend what aid he could. One day, Arthas and his armies would fall.

But what if that day lay ten, twenty, fifty years from now? What if the taste of putrid flesh, the feel of it in his fangs, never left his mouth? What if the screams in the halls of Naxxramas never left his ears? What if after every battle he fought he lost a little more of what made him different from them?

What if the village was attacked again, and he was not there?

Kaelis cried out suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts, and she laughed as the bright colors of the fireworks washed over them.

He held his daughter a little tighter and wondered, not for the first time, if he was fighting for a better world to live in, or merely one worth leaving behind.


Congratulations Athorius, you have looted a chest containing Arthas: Rise of the Lich King, The Sunwell Trilogy, The War of the Ancients Trilogy, and a WoW TCG Loot Card.  Please email the loot master at midsummerwriting at gmail dot com with your regular mailing address to claim your prize!

Remember to check back tomorrow to read the winning entry in our writing contest!!

A Midsummer Night’s RP – Week of Winners, Third Place
comment 1 Written by on August 5, 2009 – 11:32 am

From Bricu, at WTT:RP:

On behalf of WTT:RP, Too Many Annas and Lorecrafted, it my pleasure to introduce our third place winner.  All of our finalists did a superb job of addressing the challenge: Fic up a quest/event in 1,000 words or less. We received a number of entries. We read each and every one. Thank you, all of you, for your willingness to write and have it posted. Personally, I would love to give everyone who submitted something other than kudos…

Third Place goes to: Hammaryn Dawnsorrow of Feathermoon, and her entry “Inner Turmoil”, based on the questThe Cleansing” in Howling Fjord.

Inner Turmoil

“Cleanse my inner turmoil?”  Hammaryn Dawnsorrow crossed her arms over her chest, and narrowed her eyes at the Taunka in front of her.  “This is ridiculous.”

He chuckled in response.  “Elf, you may think it’s ridiculous, but it has to be done in order to help the worg Ulfang.”  Sage Mistwalker smiled at her.  “I’m sure it won’t be a problem for you.”

Hammaryn stared at him for a moment, a large frown on her face.  Was he joking with her?

“There’s gold involved in this, right?”

The Taunka grinned slyly and nodded at her.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”  Hammaryn backed away slowly.  She untied the reins of her mount from a nearby tree, occasionally glancing at Sage Mistwalker over her left shoulder.  Why in the hells was he watching her and grinning like that?

“Come on horse,” she mumbled to her mount as she hoisted herself up on the saddle.  “Let’s get away from these crazy people.”  The horse twitched his ears in response, and she dug her heels into his side. He snorted and took off at an easy canter.  Hammaryn turned her reins in to head north, towards the snowy mountains of Howling Fjord.  Smaller rocks dotted the ground, leading up to jagged cliffs.  Near the entrance to Grizzly Hills she saw the large boulder the Taunka had mentioned, and a path cutting up through the western base of the mountains.  Hammaryn halted, and slipped off her horse to land hard on the icy ground.  “Stay here, horse,” she grunted, shouldered her pack, and took off up the path into the mountains.  No monsters greeted her on the way up, and she smiled to herself.  The Taunka may have been a bit loony, but this would be easy gold.  Near the top of the mountain, she saw the altar; a large, stone table sitting in a clearing.  Hammaryn dropped her pack on the ground and walked up to it.  She pulled off her left gauntlet and ran her hand over the smooth stone; it was warm, and she yanked her hand back in surprise.

“What am I supposed to do?”  She asked, looking around as if someone would answer her.  The only reply was the wind whistling through the jagged rocks of the mountain.  She took in a deep breath and let it out, the frigid air turning her breath into fog.

“You think you can get rid of me through meditation?”

Hammaryn whirled around in shock, her back bumping up against the table.  The woman in front of her laughed, a low and snide noise.  It was herself, but not herself.  A shade, intangible and not entirely opaque, as if the shadow Hammaryn was only half formed.  Hammaryn’s right hand shook as it instinctively reached for the large mace on her back.

“Pathetic,” the shadow sneered at her.  “Scared even of yourself.”

“This is foul magic, and I’m not scared,” she bluffed.  She raised her voice.  “Whoever is casting this dark magic, show yourself.”

The shade shook her head and laughed.  “There’s no one here, little Hammaryn.  You’re all alone, just like when your daddy died.”

Hammaryn scowled.  “You don’t know anything about my father.”

The shade smiled mockingly.  “Oh, I know everything about your father.  I know everything about you, because I am you.  I know how you cried and ran away when he died, stumbling pathetically through the woods, useless little girl.”

“You’re lying.”  Tears welled up in her eyes and she backed up into the stone table again, bracing herself on it.

The shade came in closer to her.  “There’s nowhere to run, little ‘Ryn.  Do you have any idea how ashamed your mommy and daddy would be now if they saw you?  You never had half your mother’s talent for magic, and you can’t even heal like your father did.  Calling yourself a tool of the Light, and all you do is wave around a big stick.  No one is scared of you, and you can barely take care of yourself.  No family, barely any friends.”  The shade smiled seductively.  “You could just die, you know,” it whispered.  The shade motioned her head to the side of the cliff.

Hammaryn looked over her shoulder at the cliff side behind her.  It was a long drop down to those jagged rocks at the base of the mountain.  She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, leaning in against the stone table.  The cold wind whipped against her face, drying her tears.

“No.”  She opened her eyes.  “No,” Hammaryn said loudly.  “You’re not me, and you never will be.  If I die, so do their memories, and the Lich King wins.  I may not have either of their talent, but you’re damn right that I can wave around a big stick.”  Hammaryn yanked the mace off of her back, and with a loud yell, swung it at the shade.  The mace hit with a sickening thud in the chest.  The shade looked down at its chest, its mouth opening in a silent cry of shock before dissolving into the wind.  Hammaryn let the end of her mace drop onto the ground.   “It’s not me,” she said loudly.  No one answered.

Hammaryn picked up her mace, and swung it into its harness on her back.  She walked a few paces away, picking up her pack she had slung onto the ground, and pulled the handle onto her right shoulder.

“That Taunka had better be paying damn well,” she grumbled as she started walking back down the path.

Congratulations Hammaryn! You have looted a chest that contains: The Sunwell Trilogy, The Ashbringer TPB and a TGC Loot Card! Please email the loot master at midsummerwriting at gmail dot com to receive your prize!

Be sure to check back tomorrow for the second place winner in our Midsummer Night’s RP Writing Contest!

A Midsummer Night’s RP – Week of Winners, Honorable Mention
comment 3 Written by on August 4, 2009 – 10:30 am

Winners’ Week continues at WTT: [RP], Too Many Annas, and Lorecrafted!  We know you’ve all been bouncing on the edges of your seats like excited Kaldorei waiting for the next winner in the Midsummer Night’s RP Writing Contest, and we’d hate to disappoint.  So, go get yourself a cold glass of Moonberry Juice or some Tasty Cupcakes and settle down to read today’s winner!

Let’s have a round of /applause for our Honorable Mention, “Missing Friends,” submitted by Illithias of Feathermoon and based on the quest of the same name in Terokkar Forest.

Missing Friends

Every leaf glistened in the low, pre-dawn light; drooping with the night’s dew. Not quite yet time for the dawn chorus, the sun approached the shattered world’s irregular horizon, and the forest began to lighten. Insects chirped and whirred in the undergrowth; the filigree wings of the giant moths of Terokkar beat a rhythm in the space between the bushes and the boughs. Illithias crept through the undergrowth, hunched almost double. Despite her size and the bulk of her armour, only the whispering swings of disturbed branches or the soft crack of the bracken underfoot marked her passage. The leather hood hanging over her face collected the droplets as the leaves brushed by – fat drops of water falling from the brim, in front of the soft silver glow of the kal’dorei’s eyes.

It had taken a few hours painstaking, early morning travel – half running, half crawling through the brush. But eventually Illithias made it to her goal – a clearing of a few tall, older trees in the far eastern reaches of the forest, abutting the foothills and mountains dividing the forests from the rolling grasslands and floating land islands of Nagrand. There was the first stirrings of activity in the clearing, central fires were lit, and sporadic movement through the branches and between the trees was visible. The stench of roasting meat wafted across to the elf from the middle of the clearing tree-village – she had deliberately approached from downwind. Ensuring that the wickedly curved forearm blade was still affixed securely, Illithias drew her jagged longsword from it’s scabbard, and rose to her feet. The sibilant hiss of the sword was the only announcement of Illithias’ entry into Veil Skith.

Vekrik stood over his small campfire, the butt of his spear propped into the curve of a root for support – he leaned on it heavily. His beady eyes scanned the edge of the woods, looking for any signs or hints of the wolves or stalkers that prowled the area. Or, better still, another lost or misguided traveler or refugee. His beak clacked open and closed a few times as he worked his tongue over the edge of it. His shoulders rose and fell with a slight avian sigh. And he let out a yelping squawk and jerked up as an unexpected jolt tore into his lower back. Pain flooded him. Scrabbling to pull his spear right and failing – his fingers frantic with shock – Vekrik felt a heavy form press against his back, hot breath in his ear.
“Dorados’no.” it’s voice snarled. He didn’t have time to respond; a white hot slash along the heavy bob of his throat prevented that.

Subtlety was out of the question by now. Disturbances could be heard all throughout the Veil – corpses were being found. Illi dropped the pretext of her covert approach, running full tilt through the clearings. Any arakkoa that found itself in her way was quickly dealt with – more often than not without and change to Illithias’ stride. Broken birdmen left in her wake, she tore towards one of the main trees in the clearing – larger and older than it’s brethren, and heavy with buildings and platforms. Illi run, leapt, and began scrabbling up a rope ladder as quickly was her adrenaline fueled muscles would pull her.

She dragged herself over the lip of the platform, breath whistling between her teeth clenched from the exertion. The kal’dorei pulled herself to her knees, then to her feet, straightening herself – and coming face to face with another of the skettis. It opened it’s beak wide and screeched in Illithias’s face – she stumbled back, momentarily, and almost lost herself over the side of the wooden platform. It advanced on her in it’s race’s typical bobbing gait, swinging it’s blade low and lazily. Dropping down into a combat stance, Illithias brought her weapons up ready – not a moment too quickly. The arakkoa swung out with savage grace, air keening as the sword cut the air. Ducking behind her left arm, the elf caught the sword between the guards and edges of her forearm blade, twisting her wrist to pin the birdman’s weapon. Lunging forward, Illi lashed out with her head – butting the arakkoa once, twice in the head. It screamed as an ugly crack shot through it’s beak. Illithias cursed as more teeth were jolted loose. Maintaining the momentum, Illithias pushed forward, sending her adversary falling backwards, striking out – and slashing through the arakkoa’s head. It was dead as it hit the platform flooring. Panting and wiping the blood from her chin, Illithias leant down and pulled the keyring from the slain birdman’s belt.

“Are you here to rescue us?”

Illithias worked quickly through the keys on the heavy iron ring in turn, trying each in the padlocks holding the cage closed. The refugee children within crowded the door as she frantically tried each in turn, cursing in Darnassian all the while.

“I think they were going to eat us!”
“Are you a night elf?”
“I miss my family!”
“I like Goretusk Liver Pie!”

With a final click, the last padlock sprung open and clattered to the floorboards. Illi rose back to her feet and swung the cage door open.  “Right – everyone out!”

The assorted children surged out from their confines, milling about Illithias’ legs. Most of them came up to her knees. There were a lot of them. How was she going to get them out?  “Right. All of you.” the elf kneeled back down again. “I want you to all get on my…”   llithias’ voice trailed off as she looked at her shoulders – both of the dark kal’dorei forged pauldrons covered in crescent blade designs. She looked back down at the various children, all looking back up at the strange, ugly elf. She sighed. She reached up and unfastened each in turn, taking off each shoulderpiece and throwing them into the canopy.   “Okay, now. Everyone up on my back and shoulders.”

The children scrabbled up onto Illithias, grabbing purchase on her back, shoulders, clothing, necklace, straps, hair, ears. She stood, a little unsteadily. Hoots and screams echoed through the treetops – the avian screeching of the arakkoa of Veil Skith got louder as the birdmen warriors got closer.

“Now, hold on…” Illithias took three running paces to the edge of the platform and leapt off – hands grabbing wildly for a vine or a branch as childrens’ screams rang in her ears.

“Thankkk you very much, kkkal’dorei, for all that you’ve done…” Kirrik the Awakened croaked out.

Ankle deep in the grey ash of the Bone Wastes, Illithias was back at the temporarily halted refugee caravan. The arakkoa “leader” of the motley ensemble was thanking the berserker profusely – Illithias was trying to calm the birdman’s exultations and extract herself from the situation. Illi just wanted to return to the road, onwards towards Shadowmoon. A small tug on her belt grabbed her attention, she turned and looked down. A small human boy stood there looking up at her, eyes white against the smudgy, ashy face.

“Um, ma’am… thank you for… bringing my friends back. I wanted you to… have this…”

An old and battered device or toy of gnomish design sat in the boy’s hands. He gestured up at Illithias. She took the clockwork creation gingerly from his hands. She opened her mouth to say something, before pausing, and closing it again. She patted the child on the head instead. Turning, she headed back out of the caravan-camp hybrid, to where her sabre was stabled. No-one saw her wipe at her eyes as she brought her hood back up and over her head.

Congratulations Illi!  You have looted a chest that contains a TCG Loot Card – Please email the loot master at midsummerwriting at gmail dot com to receive your prize!

Please check back tomorrow to see the third place winner in our Midsummer Night’s RP Writing Contest!

A Midsummer Night’s RP – Week of Winners, Day 1!
comment Comments Off Written by on August 3, 2009 – 9:04 am

The time has come! You’ve all been waiting patiently (or not so patiently in some cases), wondering whose RP entries will be featured, who will win the snazzy prizes, whose bribes were the best, and the general results of the Midsummer Night’s RP writing contest!

Judging was based on criteria you can see here, and each entry was read by all of the bloggers involved – Falconesse, LazyJade, and Bricu from WTT:RP, Greyseer from Lorecrafted, and myself. We pored over your entries (and they are some pretty awesome entries) and finally managed to select four of them as winners.

You will see those four, starting with our Honorable Mention, tomorrow. (Yes, that means you have to wait until Friday to see who won 1st place!) If your entry is selected as one of the prize-winning submissions (1st through 3rd place), please email us at midsummerwriting at gmail dot com with your regular postal address so that we can distribute the loot!

Today, however, is something a little different.

The story featured today is here because we really wanted to recognize this player for what they’ve done. This is a little bit of the email we received along with the story:

This is my first try at any kind of writing.  It’s something I’ve always thought about doing.  I used to read any science fiction or fantasy book that I could get my hands on.  Since the internet came along I find myself reading books less and less.  I’ve recently started following a bunch of blogs and have found the desire to read start building again.  I have also found myself wanting to write as well. I may start writing short fiction after having enjoyed creating this story so much.


So huge congratulations to Talifalana from the Alterac Mountains server (and Mauly, his bear). You impressed us all with your first work of RP, and we hope you continue to work and grow as a writer!

Defending the Flame

Talifalana, Alterac Mountains
(editors’ note:  line breaks were added to clarify changes in scene/point-of-view)

Hartin had felt proud when he was chosen to be one of the Flamekeepers for Darkshire, though at the moment he was feeling miserable.  Sweat was running down his back from the heat of the bonfire built in the middle of town.  He and his men stayed close so that no one could steal, or even worst, dowse the town’s flame.  If either of these things occurred, the town would be disgraced and he (even worse) would be demoted.

Larona had been looking for the orangish-yellow fire blossom that was native to Stanglethorn Vale for the goblins (they exported the flower to all the kingdoms this time of year) when she was came upon the small clutch of huts.  She had decided it best to skirt the little village when both her arms where grasp by two bluish-green trolls.

Sul’abar was deep in thought on how he could use this time of frivolity by the humans to the north to his advantage.  The beads that hung from the entrance to his hut parted and his shaman Shakti’la entered.  “The one that not be a-livin’ could be helpin’ us to take dat town’s flame you beena wantin’ so bad” Shakti’la informed him.  “You go an git her mojo and bring it ta me.  We see how good a sneaker she be.” he said as a plan began to form.

Did the Forsaken have mojo?  Larona didn’t know.  What she did know was when that big troll pushed that pin into the little doll’s stomach her midsection burned like the fires that were being kept stoked all over Azeroth.  What they were asking didn’t seem too hard.  Distract the guards long enough for the trolls to walk into the town square and dowse the flame.  No problem.

“More wood!” Hartin yelled.  They had done more wood cutting than flame guarding these last four days.  “Would you and your men like a fire blossom?” an old lady asked.  Hartin didn’t recognize the old lady.  She was pale and her eyes were sunk back into her head under her cloak.  “Thank you.” Hartin said.  He and his men took a flower each and put them in the joint between their shoulder pads and chest plate.  The old lady smiled a toothy grin and continued to roam the town.

“What she be a doin’ handin’ out flors to da idot’s?” Sul’abar hissed over his shoulder.  “Just be quite ya sack o bones an watch.”  Shakti’la whispered back.

“She’s not going to eat anyone.” Talifalana assured the innkeeper.  Smitts had given the the night elf a wary look when he entered the common room but he became downright distraught when the bear came in behind him.  The night elf had assured him that she wouldn’t be any trouble and also persuaded him with a few pieces of gold.  Tali ordered some stew and ale for himself and three steaks (raw of course) for Mauly, his closest friend since he had left Auberdine.

Larona wandered around town handing out fire blossoms to all the people she saw.  It would take close to an hour for the dust she had sprinkled on the flowers to fully take effect.  When that hour was up, everyone she had given a flower to would be asleep and the trolls could come in and desecrate the flame.  Then, if they were good to their word, they would give her mojo back so that she could be on her way.

As the people of Darkshire started to slump down and fall asleep where they fell, Sul’abar couldn’t help but laugh out loud.  “Maybe I be keepin’ that dead ting ’round.  She turn out to be real fine sneaker.”  The troll stroked the small doll around his neck as he motioned the band of trolls to follow him into Darkshire and toward the flame that was now unguarded.

Tali decided to stretch his legs after his meal and get a bit of fresh air.  Mauly snorted at the idea and curled up for a nap (as much as a large brown bear can curl up).  Tali had been through Darkshire before and knew only the guards would be out at this hour so you can imagine his surprise when he emerged from the inn to see a group of trolls strolling toward him and all the guards laying on the ground like sacks of corn.

“Crap” thought Larona as she shrugged off the old lady disguise.  “This night elf looks like the kind who can handle himself.”

“Ha ha ha.  We be cookin’ up some not-elf tonite!” Sul’abar cackled as he motioned for his group to attack.

“MAULY” Tali yelled as he drew his shotgun from the holster strapped to his back.  He was worried by something he saw out of the corner of his eye.  If the trolls had a rogue among their numbers, he had to get his back against a wall.  The combination of several rounds from the shotgun and an angry brown bear storming out of the inn brought the trolls to an abrupt halt.

The troll who had led the charge had dropped to the ground when the shotgun was aimed at him.  This left the poor troll behind Sul’abar to take the first shell in the chest and crumple to the ground.  The second and third shots proved to be just as deadly as the first.  Then Mauly hit them head on.  Two more trolls fell under Mauly’s huge claws and the rest where routed.

Tali and Mauly chased the remainder of the trolls back into the woods then turned to come back to Darkshire.  When they came around the corner to the square, Tali saw a petite, very pale woman straddling the troll who had dove for cover.  She apparently had settled some grudge with the troll since her dagger was covered with his blood.  In her other hand she appeared to be holding a small doll.

Larona wasn’t sure what to do.  She had no doubt this night elf and his bear could pick her off with ease.  She was surprised when the night elf bowed his head to her and went back into the inn followed by the bear.  The bear stopped at the door to the inn, looked back at her, and snorted.  Larona took this opportunity to move quickly in the opposite direction not stopping to question her good fortune.

As Talifalana got ready for bed, he pulled a small doll from his backpack.  It had been made from sticks, leaves, string, pebbles, and small animal bones.  His brow furrowed as he remembered the troll he had had to kill to get his mojo back.

Be sure to check back over the rest of this week to read the other winning entries in the Midsummer Night’s RP Writing Contest!


November 19, 2013 – 4:46 pm

Bad things are happening in Stormwind – and beyond.

The Hand of Lothar, they call themselves.

Yva Darrows was their first target.

Tirith and Aely were their second and third.

They have since… expanded their reach and escalated their methods …


November 13, 2013 – 9:59 am

The cathedral bells stop ringing overnight, except for chiming the hours. Three bell strikes, and Angoleth padded softly around another corner of the Cathedral District, staying carefully in the shadows. Trained ears picked up Mogget’s soft breathing – nearly inaudible …

Riders in Lordaeron – Memory

November 7, 2013 – 1:33 pm

(Written by Jolly, Tarquin, and Annalea)

The highlands of Lordaeron were not for the faint of heart; be it the putrescence of the Scourge’s long-lingering remnant, or the rock-strewn hills and valleys that made farmers out of only the most …

Riders of Lordaeron – Logistics

September 13, 2013 – 7:11 pm

(With Tarquin and Annalea)

Once more, four people made their way through the thickets and hills of Lordaeron, this time in the crisp chill of late morning, seeking after the Rider. Aelflaed had snatched what sleep she could while Chryste …

Riders of Lordaeron – Problematic

September 11, 2013 – 9:47 am

(With Tarquin)

She hadn’t wanted to leave Jolly – not so soon after finding him again – but once away, it took about five minutes for Aely to figure out she had a problem.

That problem had just announced that …

Riders of Lordaeron: Arrangements

September 9, 2013 – 10:05 am

It was an uneasy goodbye for him, but it was agreed by both he and Aely that a stroll back to Hearthglen would not be very easy to explain, nor would the explanation needed for the three Argent soldiers once …

Riders of Lordaeron

September 7, 2013 – 9:02 am

“Light sent me ye when I needed ye afore – an’ now again when I need ye. I canna ask fir more than tha’.” She sighed and slung the shield back across her shoulders. “It’s… Light. Been awhile hasna it? …

Dark Rider of Lordaeron (Part 4)

September 6, 2013 – 2:02 pm

She blinked, but did not drop either of her shields. “Aye, though I’ve been Caltrains fir th’ last near three years. Canna say I’ve any memory ay ye.”

“Yeh’ve far moar’n yeh realize,” he replied evenly, his grip tightening on …

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