eastbound | Entries tagged with warcraft: anduin wrynn

( Behold the beautiful view of one [1] Lan Wangji, blood-drenched in one of the dusty, downtrodden streets of Hatthevar, while rains weep down — clear, for a change. In the hand that isn't holding his pendant, his sword's drawn, bloodied. )

Slave masters know little of the man Matthias. ( A pause, then almost sheepish: ) When they yet speak. Their victims recall with difficulty. Shall search the waters for signs of his whereabouts.

( Small chance of it, but carrying on ) Beware wish makers. They tempt with that which is not theirs to give.

lonelydream

How long has it been since we've been allowed to see the night sky? Has anyone managed to pry their windows open? Where I'm from, peaceful nights are often spent drinking beneath the moonlight.

[ There's the sound of clinking ceramic--clearly, he isn't letting anything stop him from drinking, at least.

It's frustrating that he hasn't been able to explore to his heart's content, that he's cut off from investigating the mysteries of this place. How much longer does he have, here in this place of relative peace? What sort of place will they go to next? Is it worth the risk to wait? (No. He knows it's not.)

A brief pause, and then he continues, though his breathing sounds...not ideal. ]

My apologies for the late introduction. My name is Zhou Xu; I arrived not long before we left the last city.

It's been brought to my attention that we have a number of healers among us. I seek, at your convenience, Wen Qing, Anduin, Nynaeve, and Hermione. Any others with an understanding of medicine, healing, or magic would be appreciated as well.

[ Far more open and blatant than he'd ever been before, but he's running out of time. He simply can't afford to be discrete any longer. Just before he ends the transmission, something occurs to him: ]

--Ah. I've heard that I've been here before. If you once knew me, I'd also like to meet. Thank you.

inferus

( The video opens on four individuals in the gardens: Benedict, Nami, Cole, and Wrath. He has finished winding the rope up and setting that aside when he lifts up the amulet and addresses the group. Wrath means to keep the information as succinct as possible, and so he wastes little time in conveying it. )

We learned the Prince has been struggling with what appears to be a more beastly nature if the destruction he's left behind is any indication - large claw marks across a particular painting as well as clothing ripped from being placed upon a frame too large to fit any longer with a clawed grip.

Julien has written the Prince many letters, beseeching him to fulfill his end of the curse's bargain and restore the forest. There was no indication of what the nature of this curse's bargain was. ( As an individual who has just broken his own curse with his wife and helped Five with his, Wrath knows that understanding the nature of the curse is the first step toward finding the solution to it. )

In addition, there's a note from someone who refers to the Prince as their brother was full of scorn toward the Prince for missing out on the proceedings of an event called the Red Hunt, referring to him as an embarrassment to the family and speaking of his failure to meet his... duties as a man.

Finally, Prince de Villeneuve was often brought cases from the village for adjudication and assistance. This is all the relevant information we procured, but if there are any questions, one of us can attempt to elaborate. Without more knowledge of the nature of the curse itself, we still ultimately know little.

massrez

[ It's the first time he's addressed the network since arriving. Well. Arriving again< apparently. But what happened in the bathing halls needs to be known. Should be known. Even if to recount it now still brings a small shiver of discomfort.

He's spoken through worse. And his face is a resolute one when he addresses the network at large. ]

The bathing halls should be avoided if at all possible, at present. There appear to be figures forming themselves out of the dark water, made to resemble us. And it isn't just our faces they appear to be taking...

[ There's a momentary pause as his gaze goes distant, before steeling himself once more. ]

They know us. Our fears, our doubts. Wrathion and I were able to dispatch one of the creatures, but many more began to appear from the water's depths. Most were misshapen, half-formed...but all spoke with one voice. One mind, one will if that is possible.

They reached out to us, spoke from memories and dreams, offering to keep us and ours safe. They would do whatever we wanted or asked, just to be born. To exist. To be given form. They wanted us to wish them into existing. Then they were gone again, all at once, and the water had gone still once more.

[ Is there a trace of sympathy in his eyes? Perhaps. Am I worthy of existence? That question still rings in his mind, even now. ]

I would expect their desire has not ended so readily. Be cautious, should you come near large bodies of that dark water. I would not recommend doing so alone.

wifedup

( There is a hand. The hand is palm up, fingers splayed, unmoving where it lays upon a desk. Someone has bandaged it from the wrist leaving the space where an arm should be a little less gruesome, though the hand is still unmistakeably without an owner and currently lifeless. Beyond the hand is Wen Kexing, slouched in a chair, a carefully cultivated air of boredom about him. He's exchanged his usual blue robes for new ones of vivid red and he sits in the flickering candlelight looking down at the hand with the faraway sounds of laughter and music surrounding him. Without a word he reaches inside of his sleeve to produce a gold ring, holding it up to his network device before he drops it on the desk, a little further from the hand. There is a moment, two, and then the hand wobbles like a turtle on it's back before it flips itself upright and begins to move, crawling towards the discarded jewellery. The ring is plucked up, clumsily fitted halfway on to one of the digits, the size too small for the broadness of its fingers. They clench in response, and Wen Kexing hums. )

I don't know about you, but where I'm from severed limbs aren't supposed to lend themselves to vanity.

( The hand, now alert, scuttles around Wen Kexing's desk plucking up anything it can. Another sigh and the man himself is lifting a half-empty wine bottle out of the way, his attention turning back to the camera. ) I found it in the middle of one of those rifts. It had an effect on the corpses around it so I thought it might be useful. They seemed aware of the thing, avoidant perhaps. The water stopped oozing quite as much when I took it too. I'm not versed in magic, so I don't know what any of that means. I will say that it seems ... angry, most of the time. ( He's used to murderous intent, it's part of his day to day life. The hand certainly has that in significant amounts. Though he thinks anyone who suffered such a loss might be. ) I also found it clutching this.

( His other hand slides open a drawer, lifting out a tattered scrap of cloth. A purple mantle, ragged at the edges, like it has been torn free. Wen Kexing smiles in a way that is not quite pleasant, teeth flashing in the light. )

Perhaps someone has some knowledge of any accidents that have taken place lately. I'd hate to think there's a person out there who might be suffering, I am a philanthropist after all. Which is why I'm sharing my findings.

( The hand suddenly makes a beeline for the edge of the desk, Wen Kexing moves just as fast, flipping a wooden bowl over the top of it, leaning forward to put his elbow on the base of it to trap his new friend. It throws him out of the shadows though, the dark smudges under his eyes part of a man who has very much not slept in a while. He realises this shortly after, shrugging a shoulder with ease before lifting the earlier wine bottle back up, flicking the cork away so he can take a deep drink. )

It's a little unruly.

rehandle

To whoever might find this useful, I'm now the patron-by-proxy of all Ephes' magic users.

From what I can tell they're all very eager to help in whatever their patron might ask of them, and given how many people that accounts for there's a fair chance that if there's something you need done, I'll have somebody for the task.

What I don't have is a lot of money. [ And doesn't he just sound thrilled and not at all resentful about it. ] Should anyone wish to be so kind, I wouldn't turn down any generous donations made in the interest of the betterment of the citadel's magical community.

[ Public service announcement and desert-dry plea for somebody, anybody to give him some cash aside, that's everything, and he almost cuts it there - but actually, he'll need to get a sense for this sooner or later, so: ]

While I have your attention, it would be useful to know everyone's current stance on Messalina.

inferus

( The video opens on the largest fissure in the Room of Seals, revealing the stairs that lead into the dark. Black eyes dart into view and then fade. The imagery shifts to the many other cracks filling the room. Wrath speaks, voice hard and ancient in the way of war: )

This version of Hell grows more restless by the hour. The dark water we've encountered before infects it. Every act of violence and rage, every death and spirit feed it further.

( Wrath's hand dips into the largest fissure. The dark liquid smoke pouring out of it wraps around his palm and the length of his arm. As if greeting an old, almost-familiar friend. He spreads his palm out and the smoke obeys, skittering back in through the crack.

The temperature in the room dips then. Ice pours from him across and within the fissure, sealing it. The ice continues to spread from his point of contact across the floor and walls, spilling into the hallway. The ground quakes as he pushes back against the power attempting to shove its way out.

The video then turns to Wrath: his gold eyes flash with anger, with violence that he pulls back within himself. His jaw locks as he surveys the room. )

...this will not hold long. These fissures will split the room open, but we may buy them time to replenish their forces and allow for more of their people to escape.

If you have magic or power, if you are capable of guarding and sending messages in the days to come, go to the Room of Seals. I will be waiting.

chosenbylight

[Anduin appears over the broadcast, his face set in a grim expression. It isn’t clear at first where he is, but something is clearly wrong. The air around him is filled with the sound of falling rubble, and the anguished cries of injured men.]

There has been–

[He’s jostled by a group of people who run by, a frantic sense of urgency to their movement. Anduin’s attention drops from his broadcast for a moment, the pendant falling to his chest as he runs to join them. The base of one of the watch towers is just visible in the background as it moves. It seems they are attempting to rescue a man who has been trapped beneath a pile of debris.]

Hold! Lift that beam, I will pull him clear! On my count! One, two, three!

[The men move together as one, struggling to lever a large wooden pillar off the top of the pile. Once it has shifted enough, Anduin murmurs a spell, and a pair of golden wings appear on the injured man, dragging him out of the rubble to land gently at Anduin’s feet. Anduin bends, the bright light of a healing spell filling the pendant’s frame.] He needs further healing. Bring him over to--

[A terrible noise sounds in the background. The sound of something large crashing into stone, and the groan of ensuing collapse. All of the men in the foreground freeze, their attention turned up toward the tower above as the sound of screaming begins. Stones crash to the ground around them and Anduin turns to look himself just in time to fling his hands up and cast – a pair of men gently levitating down, cradled in a soft golden light, where moments ago they were falling.

When at last he has the time to address the pendant directly once more, his expression is as stone, his voice just as hard.]

The Northern Watch Tower is falling. Any hands that can be spared for civilian rescue. Triage. Healers that can be spared from areas of the fortress. We need your aid on the ground. Here, now.

[He cannot do this on his own.]

((ooc: replies will be distracted from Anduin for obvious reasons BUT if you’re on the Northern Tower or are planning to take up his call for assistance, feel free to set up an action thread for such purposes!))

northerndragon

[Jon Snow has looked better, but he's also looked worse. His dark hair is not pulled back smoothly, as it typically is; curls escape to hang around his face. He has small wounds, nothing too recent, a scabby scrape on his cheek. His expression is complicated: troubled, angry, disgusted, but all in a quiet way.]

I've just returned from a meeting with Rathakku.

He makes an offer. He will withdraw his forces from Alem and allow evacuation, if --

[(his lips press together; this is clearly the part that he mislikes so greatly)]

Ten of us agree to join his ranks. Ten, and Deimar, as the dead who walk, who fight for Rathakku.

[A hard shake of his head.]

If this is enough for him -- if he has the fortress, I think the lives of those who leave are like to be forfeit either way. But I think they may leave ten of us tied in the yard to have that chance.

Half, then twelve, then ten. The numbers keep getting smaller.

I say none.

[He has decided, perhaps, that he does not wish to negotiate with undead lords after all.]

[PRIVATE TO VANESSA IVES]

My lady, I have what you wanted.

[OOC: Mod post for volunteers! Hit it up if it's a "yes" from your character.]

spellsandcharms

[ After long consideration - couldn't she just approach the women in their group fitting the prince's description? - she's decided, reluctantly, this is the best way to pose the question. ]

The prince would apparently like to speak to one of you. The best description he could give was dark-haired, beautiful, with feet.

[ All said with absolute dry seriousness, if she's still a little nonplussed by 'she has feet.' More and more he reminds her of a daemon, talking nonsense that isn't nonsense. ]

I said I would ask.

allforthecause

[ Stealing a second pendant wasn’t easy, exactly, but not was it particularly difficult. As shrewd as merchants were, they were simultaneously arrogant when they thought they were going in for the kill - so using Kahl as a distraction (deliberately looking both well meaning and slow with too much coin weighing him down) made it easy to slip the device away and make his own exit long before the man noticed. He and Kahl met up again in a dank little corner, dark and damp, and crouched down over it as they changed the username and prepared their post.

They needed to get the word out - and quickly - but doing so as themselves would only paint a target on their back. So. Burner device, pretend to be a native from the city, get the word out, then ditch the device as soon as they were done.

Time to go. ]

To our foreign guests:

You’ve been promised to Rakkathu as bodies for his horde. Our King plays your host but has already cut a deal - your lives for ours. Or at least some of them.

A dozen plus a tax - this is what he has been promised.

My conscience won’t abide for it. You’ve done nothing but help where and when we’ve asked, only to get this in return. Don’t let him sacrifice you. Murder won’t buy us freedom, whatever our masters believe.

Please. If you’re anywhere near as strong as I think you are: help free us from him once and for all.

-L

[ ooc: comments with this icon and the un “unlikely friend” are from kahl and cass’s ~~burner phone~~ stolen pendant. Any replies from Kahl or from Cassian’s un “bee” are from their personal pendants. ]

scrapgege

There's something strange going on with the spirits in the Gut's Bind. I wonder, has anyone felt it too?

It's no like Serthica, there are ghosts and spirits here, and about in the kind of amount you'd expect in a war zone, but...

Not all the time.

Sometimes they're all over, and then at other times, the area feels extremely empty. And none of the ghosts I've spoken to seem to know what's going on.

... Well most of them don't really know what's going on or care, to be honest, but... Those are huge fluctuations? In a relatively small area, so that's not normal.

I know there are others who can feel spirits, so if you've felt this too, have you found anything that could cause it?

traumatology

if you know this guy —

( here, he presents a picture of lan wangji, looking pretty beat up and battered, holding up some scales. wangji does not smile, doesn't say cheese. )

he might need a little help when we get the hell out of here. i forgot my first aide kit and the things down here keep tossing him into me like a lawn dart.

and if anyone needs these lake scales, he's been talking like their important. i'm just making sure he stays alive.

westviews

I took Rathakku a message on behalf of the king a few days ago.

"A few dozens, strong. Containable. The fortress occupies them."

He said Deimar can keep half.

Interesting, isn't it? Anyone want to guess what this could be about?

[Not trying to stir the pot here, but there's a reason she didn't share the entirety of the message with Rathakku. And one more thing:]

Also... he's disgusting. I don't recommend trying to get an audience with that thing.

[[ooc: Backdated to the 7th, after her curse has ended. If you want to thread out or handwave an encounter with her during that time (she was probably suspiciously skittish), feel free to send me a message! Otherwise feel free to have your characters chat here.]]

chosenbylight

[Anduin appears in the image, looking tired and more than a little blood-spattered. Don't worry. None of it is his...

He offers the flash of an exhausted smile before just getting on with it:]

My apologies, I fear I am out of practice with this. In the hope of appealing to your better nature, I am putting out a call for aid.

[Anduin's expression sobers.]

If you have spent any time down in the Wards at all then you understand the conditions there are very poor. Crown Prince Haiva has informed me that the King has dedicated a third of their army to the city’s most vulnerable and the evacuation attempts, but...

The more attacks this city should suffer, the less they will be able to spare for what is already considered by some to be a waste of resources.

I understand that we all have our own very vital assignments to undertake in this conflict. I would implore you however, in the coming few days, to give of whatever time you might have and help us prepare for the next few waves of evacuations. These people need to escape this mountain if we wish to give them any chance of surviving this. Just as I have been tasked with tending to the wounded on the towers and to the Crown Prince himself, are there those among our number that we might direct this assistance towards?

[Speaking of the Prince. Anduin hesitates, before pressing on:] I understand that Prince Haiva is busy enough, as it is. I am certain he would appreciate any and all assistance that can be given. I am only sorry I have not been able to offer him any relief from the illness which continues to plague him. I don't suppose the other healers among us have had any further luck than me?

[Sharing is caring, friends!]

jatharin

( The first transmissions is recorded footage, clearly captured by a pendant held by a shaking hand. Before it, legions of heterogenous, misshaped demons part for the gilded palanquin of Duke Rathakku, his long tendril legs seeping off his cushions.

Beneath his litter, death hounds feast on the fresh remains of a man carrying a peace stindard.

Rathakku appears untroubled, unhurried, indifferent: )

Tell your new king... he will have the peace of the old. And we, we will give it to him. If you can reach him.

( Only more seconds capturing footage of fumbling feet and gracel, the pendant carrier stumbles back, starting to run —

Before the transmission switches to the lightly amused face of Alem's king Deimar, whistling: )

...friendly sort, isn't he? That was four months ago. He's softened since. I'd say the colder weather agrees with him. It's good for you new recruits to see that. To see him. It builds character. ( A pause, then helpfully: ) ...spoils appetites, too! Means less dinner for you, more supplies for the morning. We've all won here.

( But the joy seeps from him. ) I know what you have come for. The beacon. I accept you. It's honest trade, we need the hands. Hells, fond welcome. And to those of you serving as envoys, we'll raise a cup to you first. I should hope there's meat on your bones!

Now, a few... guidelines! As it were. What are you? Madmen, criminals, thieves, mercenaries? I don't care to know. Under my roof, I'll have none of that quarrel. ( Steely: ) No squabble, no torture, no rape. We're in tight quarters, blood runs hot. But you'll somehow prevail over any instincts. No... innocent stabbing. There's enough of that in the Wards of late.

I understand some of you are joining the watch towers. I'll come see you. It's ugly work, and you won't thank me. But I thank you. If that bitch Irenia flies by, remember: she's an ugly, slow whore, and you can take a sharp stick's end to her throat. ( Silence, then breezily: ) I don't mind if you do that our merchant friends, either. Just make sure you've learned where they've stored their grains first. ( Light coughing. ) Don't let Haiva hear that. We're to be friends with one and all! Even when they skin us for gold.

As it stands, the day's news: we prepare to evacuate new convoys of our weakest civilians every five days. Unfortunately, Rathakku is... either remarkably intuitive or well informed. He seems to find our escape corridors in the mountain and blockade them. So! We start anew, with fresh escape routes. Do help. And if you can keep our vulnerable on their feet and not trip up the paladins who are working in the Gut's Bind, even better.

By the way, we cut any hands laid unkindly on healers. We can likely spare you more than them.

And the punishment for snitching to uncle Thyvault where the last of the good wine sits is worse than that. I'll deliver that one personally.

Now, good to have you! Die well.

( ooc: welcome to Alem & threadjack liberally c: )

blackscales

I see we have plenty of new faces. Welcome to Serthica, if you're lucky the stay will be brief.

[ It's not exactly a fun and enjoyable time. Anyway: ]

I've been looking into our friend the White Wanderer. Those newest among us may recall him present during what they called the 'Unwinding', dressed in white while handling tea and a small child. Recently, he was mentioned by our guide the Merchant himself -- a comparison of his attire to the Ellethia uniform. I had confirmed the White Wanderer was here a few years ago, in the Mouse House, just after the 'coal sick' ended. Perhaps a few days after, implying he may have been around during the 'curing' of it in the city proper. With the recent confirmation of his Ellethia uniform, and Ma'am Mariol informing me she thinks he had a daughter he recently lost, he does indeed seem to be a former member of the Institute in Ellethia.

Given we found the familiar symbol of Ellethia (an eye with a sun) in the Remembrance headquarters I'd say this all ties together that our White Wanderer was involved in what is happening. Animating mannequins with dark water, as Remembrance seems to be doing, certainly fits the scientific intrigue of Ellethia -- although if this is misuse of whatever he began we cannot say yet.

What I'd like to know, from those here before me, is this: think back. We've evidence of this figure in Ke-Waihu. Was there any mention of them before? A white-clad figure, in Taravast? In any location the Merchant took you before? Have you seen the symbol of Ellethia, the eye with a sun, anywhere? These things might have not been noteworthy before, not part of a pattern, but I've begun to believe we're following a trail here.

For our new members: worth noting, Ellethia is where our guide the Merchant previously lived and worked, trading technical equipment and wards. It's of interest if our guide is following an old colleague, and taking us along. Ellethia's Institute was attempting to 'cure' the problem of mortality, the detail of which we are somewhat lacking. It seems to have involved mirrors, dark powers, and it did not end well -- that much we know. Given most places we arrive, things are going poorly, a recurring figure with ties there is of note.

Lastly: our raven master companion mentions Vassarizhia. I'm increasingly convinced the clock tower itself is related to everything happening here. The cities rotate at certain times, but large scale events also happen at them. The Unwinding, most recently, right as the clock struck six. We were told the beacon is in the clock tower and would light within months, when the clock is due its annual winding. Given it presumably just 'unwound', and caused all this, I'm hoping access to the clock will allow us answers to the parts of this puzzle we are missing -- as well as a route out.

pulvisetumbra

( White sound, fragments of murmurs. Two men and a woman drowned by the tinny crescendo of a strained musical instrument. The music rises shrill and shrill, until it nearly deafens — then all is inexplicably quiet. At last, a man’s voice: )

...good afternoon. Following your... discoveries in Serthica, it appeared only prudent to reinforce every measure that protects our conversations. Our discretion is your survival.

You speak to the Merchant. We number a wealth of new... associates. I bid you welcome. Know this: whatever trials await you in your travels, they are as nothing before the ruthless undead enslavement the warlords would have intended you.

( A pause, then carefully: ) You are in Serthica. My initial recommendation was for you all to investigate which of the citadel’s halves houses undead and unnatural creatures. Since, Karsa has relayed the results of your efforts.

If I follow well, then you have unveiled the Remembrance insurgent group whose mannequins gain human likeness. I hope we have not chosen to bring home cursed dolls. ( His gritting teeth suggest otherwise. ) You have found that the old sickness that once splintered Serthica remains... alive. To that end, I salute the sacrifice of Master McCoy. We shall aim to recover your health, sir. And there is the matter of dragons, some living, some... troubled.

( A long, deep sigh rip from him. ) I fear Eidris and Minaras may have both been compromised. I first urged you to keep your head bowed and await the yearly opening of Serthica’s Neutral Zone beacon. We can no longer afford this passiveness. We must know what we protect against and how deeply the rot of Serthica runs.

The great Neutral Zone clock of Vassarizhia is the old heart of Serthica. Its beats regulate the rise and fall of Eidris and Minaras. Before the sundering, it was Serthica’s foremost watchtower, with vantage across the citadel whole. Karsa toils to finalise magical instruments that will allow us to forcibly but briefly reveal the state of this world, if you can reach the topmost levels of Vassarizhia and its enhanced telescope and watch monitors. I understand security will ease within the week, when Eidris and Serthica hold further summits.

( And now, a sprawling silence: ) As for the... white wanderer. I thank the consummate professionalism of Master Constantine and Mistress Pitts in delivering the uniforms of Ellethia. I understand one such garment was worn by the man who visited you during the Unwinding. The same intruder who haunted Ke-Waihu.

Let us be candid. I believe we speak of a former member of the institute of technology and magic of Ellethia, where the undead first surfaced. If this is correct, I can only recommend caution. I cannot say if the white wanderer is friend or foe. I know my preference.

Irrespective of this: onwards, upwards. To Vassarizhia. I leave this with you.

( ooc: threadjack away! You will get further details on the tower infiltration and our Halloween event mid-week for your plotting purposes. )

strewth

[The voice is definitely English, a scouse accent mixing slightly with bits of Cockney, if one is the sort to recognize it.]

Lovely weather we're having in this sodding fishbowl. Nearly reminds me of home. Ah, hfff, something to lighten the spirit. I've got a story.

Have you lot heard of Ellethia? Couldn't tell you how it's spelled; I haven't the foggiest whether we're playing with Fake Latin or fake Greek. Gorgeous country, it is; proper Byronic. Maybe fake Greek, then.

It were haunted.

D'you remember a bloke prancing around during the communal head trip? Stroppy bastard he was, complaining to me about tea and infanticide. Reckon he had more sparkling conversation for you lot. Wore white. Ghosts in your Ellethia said he got a uniform from them. Or from there, at least.

Don't all rush to thank me. Weren't alone. Your girl Lila, she were dead helpful. Distracted the ghosts she did. I'm sure she'll love the credit, hehh.

And that'd make me John Constantine. [It rhymes with Clementine.] Ain't me first brush with ghosts, let's say. Magic, that rubbish, have you ever seen any? The real stuff, I mean.

chosenbylight

[Anduin appears on camera looking -- out of character, for those that know him, dressed in dark leathers and a large black trenchcoat.

Yes, he knows. He feels weird about it too.]

Greetings, my friends. As I am certain you are aware by now, various systems across Minaras are suffering malfunctions, ranging everywhere from brief glitches to complete breakdowns in the infrastructure of the city. What may not have been apparent at first, and why I come to you now, is that there are a number of droids who seem to have been affected by the outages as well.

In my role here in Minaras, the nobility come to me for... [He winces slightly.] I am a droid bounty hunter, to put things plainly. And there has been an increase in runaway droids, of late. I have managed to track several of them down and have them in my custody at present. Normally at this point, I would return them to their masters as requested, but I have -- concerns.

I have spoken with the droids in my charge. They do not seem to acknowledge that they have ever had masters to serve. Certainly not those people who hired me to find them. They have said that their services are not required, at present.

[Anduin hesitates, uncertain for a moment of how exactly to proceed.]

I am a priest, outside this city. I cannot claim to understand the workings of these complex machines. But something has changed them, quite suddenly. Droids are programmed to serve humankind. These droids do not appear to have forgotten who their masters are. But most troubling of all: from what I can tell, they are no longer registering to the droids as human.

Perhaps if we are able to understand why... We might come closer to understanding just what exactly is going on here?

((ooc: further information about/plotting for this little clue-roll can be found here, though anduin will be discussing what he knows so far below!))

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Page Summary

downswing - un: absterge | video
lonelydream - un: seasonailed | audio
inferus - [video, un: a civil serpent]
massrez - video; un: glow is me
wifedup - un: abwhorent / video ( a couple of days post coliseum )
rehandle - voice, un: strange
inferus - un: civil serpent | video.
chosenbylight - un: white pawn; video
northerndragon - un: whitewolf / video: ota / text: private to Vanessa Ives / forward dated to 2 March
spellsandcharms - un: ivory doll » video
allforthecause - un: unlikely friend
scrapgege - un : deft hand of little deaths (voice)
traumatology - ( text | un: jbb )
westviews - text | un: off scarlet
chosenbylight - un: white pawn; video
jatharin - username: deimar | video
blackscales - un: Black Prince; text
pulvisetumbra - audio | user name: raven master
strewth - un: wooden dice.
chosenbylight - un: white pawn; video

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exit, stage e a s t

Entries tagged with warcraft: anduin wrynn

un: absterge | video

un: seasonailed | audio

[video, un: a civil serpent]

video; un: glow is me

un: abwhorent / video ( a couple of days post coliseum )

voice, un: strange

un: civil serpent | video.

un: white pawn; video

un: whitewolf / video: ota / text: private to Vanessa Ives / forward dated to 2 March

un: ivory doll » video

un: unlikely friend

un : deft hand of little deaths (voice)

( text | un: jbb )

text | un: off scarlet

un: white pawn; video

username: deimar | video

un: Black Prince; text

audio | user name: raven master

un: wooden dice.

un: white pawn; video

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March 2024

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