Posts Tagged ‘Forsaken’

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Patch Day: Going Shopping

April 15, 2009

Aleathea: Whatup Reant! Been a while since we last met.

Reant: Yea, verily, yea.

Aleathea: So, how you been?

Reant: Forsooth, I am right well.

Aleathea: Forsooth? Nobody says forsooth. What’s wrong with you?

Reant: I am a Role Player, this is how we speak.

Aleathea: Oh, I forgot you were one of them.

Reant: Of a truth.

Aleathea: Pretty exciting night last night, huh? So much to do now! Learn strategies for all the new raid encounters, tweak my specs for min/max efficiency, update my addons, rework my UI…

Reant: *nods absently* Won’t that be nice.

Aleathea: What did you do last night?

Reant: Went shopping in Undercity.

Aleathea: Shopping? On patch day? In Undercity??

Reant: Indeed.

Aleathea: Had some emblems left to spend, eh?

Reant: Emblems? Never touch the stuff.

Aleathea: Buying gems to re-socket for the new encounters then?

Reant: Gems? It is an affront to the Earthmother to disrupt the stones at rest in her bosom.

Aleathea: Earthmother’s bosom … How could I forget?

Reant: Seeing as you are not yet one of the initiated, I’ll let it slide.

Aleathea: You are too kind. So, then, what did you buy?

Reant: *produces a list* Of the Wolf cloaks in both short and long variations, of the Barbarian shield, of the Feathers headdress (for indoor use) and of the Physician helm (for outdoor use) – you can never have too many hats you know. Of the Spikes shoulders and, my favorite, an of the Whale chestpiece, purchased for the bargain price of 99 gold.

Aleathea: You … spent 99 gold on an of the Whale chestpiece?

Reant: *nods happily* The shoulders were a bit pricy at 89 gold, but they matched the outfit.

Aleathea: … I’m speechless.

Reant: My appearance often has that affect. You know, for a hardcore raider you’re not too bad. You should come visit my world sometime. I’ll take you shopping, fix you up a bit.

Aleathea: Fix…ME…up?

Reant: You’re living in the dark ages. Tier sets are so last year. These days, you just meander through the Auction House and buy what looks good on you. Give it a try, you’ll feel like a new woman!

Aleathea: I … think I feel ill.

Reant: It’s all that restricting plate armor. Try going with cloth. It’s better for your health and the environment.

Aleathea: Oh look, invites are going out for Ulduar. Hate to run but, duty calls, you understand.

Reant: Of course. May shadows brighten your path, Paladin.

Aleathea: …

***

Author’s Note: Lest you thought I was kidding …

 Reant Before

Reant

Reant, 250 gold later

Reant, 250 gold later

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Diary of a Forsaken: The Last Dance

April 13, 2009

Reflections by Ailia Reant

Northern Kalimdor

The sounds of revelry filled the tavern as raucous laughter mingled with drunken shouts from the dance floor. Across the table, the priest glowered disapprovingly.

Ailia offered her a tankard, “Lighten up, Britta. The war is over; this is a night for celebration.”

At her friend’s urging, Britta relented and accepted the drink. “Alright, but don’t expect me to join in any drunken revelry.”

Grinning, Ailia rose from the table, “You don’t know what you’re missing, my friend.”

Vlod fixed her with a stern gaze, “The war may be over, but until tomorrow I’m still your commanding officer. Don’t make me escort you out again.”

The woman turned wide eyes on him. “You know the incident last night wasn’t my fault, right? The man attacked me. I was only defending myself.”

Britta laughed outright, “You deliberately provoked him, knowing full well the row that would ensue.”

A mischievous sparkle danced in the warrior’s brown eyes. “Damn it, Britta, I can’t get anything past you.”

She nodded to the paladin, “Alright, I promise. No fighting tonight.”

He watched her go with a hint of a smile. “It’s good to see her back to her old self.”

Britta grunted, “I spend more time healing her than the rest of the company combined. I swear that woman attracts trouble wherever she goes.”

His smile broadened to a grin, “She does indeed. Still, I’d rather see her brawling in the streets than lost in grief.”

Britta’s expression softened. “Aye, Muldov was the closest thing she had to family. For a while there I feared she would never recover from his death.” She lifted her tankard and took a long drink.

Vlod glanced around the crowded room. “It’s hard to believe tomorrow this place will be empty. Most of the company is going with Jaina to establish a new Alliance base off the southern coast.”

“Have you told Ailia of our plans?”

He grimaced, “No. I didn’t want to face that battle tonight.”

Britta nodded, her thoughts drifting to the night word arrived that the war was coming to an end. The camp had been a flurry of excitement as people shared stories of home and the life they were eager to return to. Through it all, Ailia had remained uncharacteristically silent.

When they questioned her privately about her plans, she shared her intention of returning to Lordaeron.  She spoke passionately of the desperate war waging in her homeland where the remaining survivors fought a losing battle against the Scourge. Britta and Vlod had not tried to dissuade her, but they had no intention of letting her go alone either.

If the horror stories told by the refugees fleeing that forsaken land were true, there wouldn’t be many opportunities to celebrate in the days ahead.

Shaking off a feeling of foreboding, she glanced across at Vlod and followed his gaze to their friend. She had set aside her armor for the evening and wore a simple dress of finely woven mageweave. Her long hair, usually concealed beneath her helm, fell in ebon waves across her shoulders and back. Her movements were more energetic than graceful as she danced to a rhythm all her own. Her face was flushed with pleasure, her eyes sparkled with merriment as she laughed and twirled, completely oblivious to the glances of amusement around her.

Free of inhibition, the woman displayed a passion for life that was infectious. She would balk at their decision, but in the end, she would have to accept it. For months they had fought through hell together.  They weren’t about to leave her now.  Whatever fate awaited them in Lordaeron, they would meet it together.

Sharing a smile, they rose and walked, arm in arm, onto the dance floor. 

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Diary of a Forsaken: Ailia’s Story

March 27, 2009

Written by Ailia Reant

It occurs to me, somewhat belatedly, that I have begun my story in the middle. Should someone read this diary after I am gone, they would know only Reant, the Forsaken.  I was not always thus.  I was human once.

Born in a small fishing village on the outskirts of Stratholme, Ailia spent her early years playing along the banks of the Darrowmere Lake. She was six when the winds of war swept across Azeroth for a second time. When the Orcs invaded Lordaeron, her parents fought alongside the other villagers defending their homes. They were simple peasants, unskilled in the ways of war.  The blood crazed Horde slaughtered them without mercy. The child’s slight form, hidden among the bodies of the fallen, went unnoticed.

From that day on she embraced the life of a fighter, learning from any who would teach her, relentelessly pursuing the destruction of the Orc race.  Many years later, an unlikely friendship with an Orc named Skelto led to a change of heart and she turned from the path of revenge. 

She served the Alliance during the Third War, earning a name for herself as a warrior. At the conclusion of the war, she returned to Lordaeron where she fought to defend her homeland against the Scourge invasion. Eventually her efforts attracted notice from the Scourge leaders. With the help of the Argent Dawn she evaded them for many months, but the Scourge’s power grew daily and the defenders strength waned as their fallen brothers joined the ranks of the undead. It was only a matter of time before she fell into their hands. I cannot bring myself to set down the events that followed. Suffice it to say, death came as a friend.

How easy it is to summarize the events of a lifetime in a few sentences.  How difficult it is to convey the essence of that life. 

Hot-blooded and headstrong, her temper would have ushered her into an early grave had not her blade been as quick as her tongue. Living each day in the face of death, she was free of the inhibitions felt by those who hold life dear.  Reckless, her friends called her, their warnings falling on deaf ears.

It was in battle that she was most alive, every sense heightened by the blood rage that coursed through her veins.  In its grip, the world faded in a haze of fury, instinct guiding her hands, lost in the sounds of battle and the feel of her blade.

My story is in no way unique.  There are hundreds, nay thousands, who could give a similar account.   So many  men and women, unsung heroes who stood against the darkness and with their deaths bought time for others to rise.  Most are forgotten now.  Some fell never to rise.  Others, like me, were raised in death to serve the Litch King.  I have no memory of the time I spent bound to his will.  For this, I am grateful.  I have seen others of my kind who can never recover from the memories.

Ailia was not a  great hero.   She was not noble or wise and most of her valorous deeds were spurred by recklessness more than bravery.  But – she was alive.  She knew passion in the arms of a lover.  She knew joy at the laughter of a friend.  She felt the gentle carress of the breeze and savored the soft kiss of the sun on her face.  She heard music in the lonely call of the night wind sweeping across the planes of Desolace.  Reant exists now as a shadow of the woman who once was.  Living, but never truly alive.

Unable to accept this existance, some Forsaken pine away, lost to the world in their grief.  That will not be my fate.  Ailia is gone, but Reant remains. I am stronger now than ever I was in life.  No longer do I require rest or nourishment.  No longer do I fear death or pain. No longer are my days numbered by the beat of my heart and the air in my lungs. I am content to wait.  Patient. Vigilant. My hour of  vengance will come.

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Pitfalls for the Beginning Role Player

March 10, 2009

munchkinThere is a delightful card game called Munchkin that my friends and I like to play. If you have never tried it, you really should. In the deck, there is a card which offers a free level if you will “Promise The GM You’ll Stop Telling Him About Your Character.” I laugh every time I see that card, because it could have been written with me in mind.

A few years ago, I was involved in WoW tabletop RP with a group of friends. Reant, my Forsaken on the Cenarion Circle RP realm, is the re-incarnation of my favorite character from those campaigns.

Thinking that it might be good to brush up on her back story, I dusted off my notes and re-read what I had written a few years ago. I remember how very proud I was of my story and how eager I was to share it with everyone. My gracious friends not only kept a straight face, but even applauded my efforts.

Reading  it now, I have to laugh. I am still new to in-game RP, but I’ve had the chance to observe some masters and I can already recognize in my early writing several pitfalls that beginning Role Players often fall into.

Pitfall #1: Overly Dramatic Storyline

No one’s life consists entirely of climactic, soul shattering events. Most of life is spent in mundane, day to day activities which provide the framework for the occasional dramatic moment. If you write your story as one long series of melodramatic experiences, it will be completely unbelievable. Redemption, Repentance, Revenge … they are good themes, but don’t try to work them all into your first paragraph.

Pitfall #2: Unbelievable Character

It is tempting to take every trait you wish you had, remove every flaw you wish you didn’t have, and present yourself as a shining paragon of virtue (or the pure embodiment of evil). While it might be fun to imagine yourself this way, it is not a character that others can relate to or will be inclined to associate with.

This point was driven home to me recently as I observed a fellow guildie RPing.  He plays a Death Knight.  The character has been trained as a killing machine.  She is a well honed instrument of destruction. She is also unable to read or write; a fact that disturbs her deeply. Most evenings she can be found patiently sounding out letters, determined to one day unlock the mysteries contained within the book she holds. She is quick to ask questions and regards those who can read with awe and admiration.

sevenThis powerful figure retains such an air of vulnerability and humility that I am incredibly drawn to her.  She reminds me of Seven of Nine, one of my all time favorite fictional characters.  She was the embodiment of Borg perfection, but it was her humanity that drew the audience in and made her character unforgettable.

In real life, few things frighten me as badly as appearing vulnerable or imperfect to other people.  This is the single greatest challenge I face when it comes to role playing, but learning to overcome this fear and accept the weaknesses that are part of my nature is  something that is vital not only for the development of my Role Playing relationships, but for my Real Life ones as well.  It is through our humanity that people relate to us, both in RP and in RL.

Pitfall #3: To Much Too Soon

It is important to understand that RP relationships, just like RL relationships, take time to develop. You are writing a story with other people, and you must establish a context for your chapter before it will be understood and appreciated. You wouldn’t walk up to a stranger and spill your entire life story accompanied by shuddering sobs and expansive oaths of revenge, everlasting love and eternal fealty. At least … I hope you wouldn’t.

You shouldn’t do it in an RP setting either.  If you want your story to be taken seriously, you need to lay a foundation first. You do this by getting to know others, just as you do in real life. Be consistent in your interaction with others and take an interest in their lives. Each of your fellow RPers has a story to tell. Don’t become so obsessed with telling your own story that you forget to listen to theirs.

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Spontaneous Shenanigans

March 5, 2009

dance partyLast night I logged onto Draka for a continuation of our Naxx 10 raid from last night. Through a series of unfortunate events, we were down a tank and two healers. Being the hard core raiders that we are, we turned the event into a naked dance party atop Naxx. After about thirty minutes of raucous debauchery, I logged off Aleathea and retreated into the relative anonymity that is my life as Reant on Cenarion Circle.


I was breathing in the heady scent of jungle flowers, enjoying the peace and quiet while slaughtering Bloodsail Buccaneers, when I got a whisper from a level one warlock whose name was suspiciously similar to that of my Raid Leader, the one I had just left in a naked punching duel with my Resto Druid friend. Next thing I know I get a whisper from said Resto Druid, and before long my Hunter buddy shows up too. About this time, my hubby gets home from work and joins the fun.


forsaken-friendsDeciding it was time to visit me on my new realm, they had all rolled Forsaken and were questing in the Brill area.  My creative friends came up with the idea of starting a guild named “Zombies in Arms” (our Draka guild is named “Brothers in Arms”). Somehow I got talked into funding that venture and, next thing I know, I’m standing in front of the Brill inn emptying my coffers into their greedy little mitts.


Charismatic man that he is, my Raid Leader set about recruiting immediately. Only trouble was, he had taken the whole idea of “RP” quite to heart and had spent a good five minutes coming up with a back story. It involved one of the other Forsaken  having chewed his jaw off, so he could only say, “mrrghh!”.


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Undeterred by this little difficulty, he (Kraknagma) proceeded to advertise in trade while my hunter buddy (Onaboat) inserted helpful comments. I offered them each ten gold to swear never to mention my name or indicate they know me.


We spent most of the evening on vent, and the laughter continued late into the night. Tearing up raid instances is fun in its own way, but it doesn’t hold a candle to a night of spontaneous shenanigans.

Long after the bosses are forgotten and the epics are disenchanted, it’s nights like this I will remember.  The night my friends, not willing to let me drift quietly away, invaded my server, stole my gold, wreaked havoc on my reputation, and touched my heart yet again with their friendship.

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Crossroads

February 16, 2009

Written by Ailia Reant

Day Fourteen:

I visited Orgrimmar today. It is curious how life (or death) takes you down paths you never imagined you would walk. I spent most of my life utterly devoted to the annihilation of the Orc race. Now, I walk among them.

I paid a visit to Warchief Thrall. He did not recognize me. I am a bit … changed … since our last meeting. He remains the same. A bit older and more care worn, but I still found understanding in his eyes. He supplied me with contacts in various surrounding areas and, from there, I traveled to the Crossroads.

What a strange collection of creatures I discovered there. Taurens, Trolls, Orcs, Blood Elves and other Forsaken all gathered together finding work and fellowship. I have found plenty of work, but so far have avoided fellowship.

Day Seventeen:

I witnessed an Alliance attack today. A raiding party swept across the Barrens killing and injuring many not only in the Crossroads, but also in Camp Taurajo and Razor Hill. Memories of the destruction at Brill prompted me to take up my sword in defense of the town.

I entered the fray and saw a giant cat dart to the right of me. Blood flowed from a gash in his dark flank, hate shone in his feline eyes as he snarled at the defending guards. The druid did not see me move behind him. I raised my weapon intending to drive it into his spine.

I couldn’t do it. The guards made quick work of him and I turned away, unable to watch.

I am no longer one of them. But I cannot yet bring myself to shed the blood of those I once fought, and died, beside. For now, the memories are still too fresh.

Day Nineteen:

Last night I *dreamed of my friends. We were gathered around the campfire, laughing and sharing stories as we did on so many nights. Vlod and I eventually fell to sparring while Muldov lustily belted a Dwarven drinking song. Britta glowered at us all disapprovingly and Skelto just watched with that bemused expression the Orc always wore when observing our strange ways.

Reluctant as I am to admit it, I crave companionship. I am unaccustomed to being alone and, even in death, I miss the fellowship. I was in Ratchet today and heard the inn-keeper mention a gathering tonight at the tavern. Perhaps I will attend. If nothing else, it will give me further insight into the customs of these races of the Horde.

I have a long road ahead of me, it is time I take the first step.

***

*OOC Note: Oops, I forgot that Undead do not sleep. I’ll try to catch that in the future. For now, lets say she was remembering, rather than dreaming about, her past life.

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A New Beginning

February 13, 2009

Written by Ailia Reant

I am not a skilled writer. In truth, I am far more comfortable wielding a sword than a pen. Nevertheless, I have resolved to commit my thoughts to parchment so they will not be lost to time. When I write, I feel a connection with my former life. In this one way, I retain something of the woman I was.

Day One:

I have awakened in a nightmare. My limbs feel stiff and awkward. I burn with insatiable hunger that food does not allay. I am weak as a young child, barely able to lift my crude weapon. I am told the Lich King’s control over me is broken. I am told, I am free. I take little comfort in the thought. Perhaps, in time, I will grow accustomed to this existence. Perhaps, in time, I will grow accustomed to the sight of those around me. I do not know whether to hope for these things, or be afraid.

Day Six:

Today I fed on human flesh for the first time. It was a woman, a member of the Scarlet Crusade. The taste of her flesh alleviated my hunger even as the thought of what I did made me retch. When I returned to Executor Arren with my report, he seemed pleased with my progress. I fear I am losing myself.

Day Nine:

I visited the Undercity today. More than once, I reflexively drew my sword at the sight of the Abominations, Guardians of the Undercity. They must be used to such things, for they paid me no heed. The memory of my old life is still fresh. I no longer belong in the land of the living, but I don’t yet belong here either.

Day Ten:

Coleman FarthyWhen I returned from the Undercity I found Brill devestated by an Alliance attack. I entered Gallows End Tavern to find everyone dead. Or, whatever it is that happens to us when the dark magic that animates a corpse is broken.

I knelt beside the body of Coleman Farthing. Yesterday he asked my help in taking revenge on the family that brought him to this fate. I understand his desire for vengeance. I will honor his request.

A Blood Elf entered the inn and saw me kneeling beside the fallen. I suppose he thought I was grieving. He opened his pack and drew out some supplies; a healing draught, a weapon and some food. He gave them to me, along with a gold piece. I was reluctant to accept the gift, but in the end practicality won out over my pride. I will repay him someday.

Soon, I will leave this place. I have the resources now to travel, and I need to find a safe place where I can train and regain my former strength.

My thoughts unwittingly drift to Skelto, Shiori, Muldov … those friends I traveled with in life. They would not know me now, nor would I want them to see what I have become. I will not write of them again. It is best not to remember.