[A-RP Community Campaign - Chronicle] Upon the Altar of Vengeance

Moon Guard
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This forum topic will serve as a chronicle for my coming campaign, as well as list details of coming events. Event details will always follow a IC post summarizing the previous event. I hope you enjoy the read!

The night was a cold one, and it threatened to bite through her leathers all the way to the bone. Delerren remained astride the warsaber, Bash’Adan. Her loyal protector, dearest friend, and the closest being she had to a father. The voyage was hard on the both of them, having utilized Highborne magics to spirit their ship across the breadth of Azeroth’s deep bodies of water.

Night had fallen all across Darkshore, what light offered was the distant and cold stars. While a dark moon weighed heavily upon the sky. Emboldening the Kaldorei, and a warning to the Horde. Now though? She waited just without the Grove of Ancients, Night Elves spread far and wide gathered here to hear her words. Panic fluttered beneath her chest, ‘Will they think me a monster?’ Such question was always followed with one word: Yes. They would know also, that she was a necessary evil.

The Horde must be cowed, no matter the cost. Her thoughts were disturbed by the loud cracking of bone. Bash’adan was contently feasting upon the corpse of a shared enemy. The Nightcaller and Huntmaster both approached her then, “It is time, Commander Delerren.” Even despite the swell at her stomach, she straightened her back and bore the countenance of a fierce warsaber.

The collective number of Elves within the Grove was far more than Delerren had expected, and she was woefully unprepared to manage the size. Despite that, she managed the voices of the prideful and the many as best she could. Discussion was had, and at least some semblance of a plan had been formed.

Primarily, the securing of supply lines and feeding the warfront was imperative to maintaining control of Darkshore. Secondly, the Horde must be cowed. To that end, the suggestion of horrific tactics were suggested. Desecrating the corpses of their enemies to be turned into delicately laid traps, and more. Lastly, the return to our traditions, the worship of Elune, and the stalwart protection of the balance.

With these preparations in mind… the abomination that is the horde were to be dismantled.

The talks moved too slow, and the mass of Kaldorei were growing more urgent to shed the blood. It felt too soon, but if she did not regain control of the discussion her efforts would be for nothing.

“To celebrate the coming Lunar Festival, a time honored tradition for past victories against the legion, let us welcome a new one.” She paused only to take a breath, “A mass, living, sacrifice.”

Momentarily, the grove grew silent, some faces fell, others grinned in feral approval. Those who refused to take part, left. A number lingered despite that, and some pledged their aid.

The taking of ten sacrifices was agreed upon, one of each primary race of the Horde. Each, must be a pillar of their respective race, a hero among them that must be brought to the altar and bled.

A Kaldorei Dark Ranger, A venerated teacher of the Shu’halo, were the examples listed there. After having requested their aid, she dismissed the gathering.

From this night, none could question the savagery of the Druidess Delerren Breezedagger. There was no doubt, she wished nothing but to strike mortal terror within the hearts of the horde.

Their first quarry was chosen:

Chekoyea Riverwillow, a Druidess, the same as she. A teacher among her people, and even among the Cenarion Circle. One who supported the Forsaken and welcomed them into the ranks of the Horde. Even despite their efforts of ruining, and plaguing the land, she believes a redemption to be among their people.

For allowing such abomination to exist, she is no less deserving than any risen Kaldorei, or Forsaken.

She and her tribe take their students to a rite of coming of age. There, in their vulnerable state outside of Thunderbluff the Commander intends to strike. Chekoyea Riverwillow, was almost guaranteed to them.

This upcoming Sunday @8PM Server(01/06/19), all those who participated in my Council of Stars are welcome to participate in the second chapter of my campaign. To any other parties who are interested in joining, feel free to contact me in-game or via discord. Dreamest#2049

This will be a DM’d D20 event, warmode off.

By any means possible, Delerren has reached out to those who showed support and asked them to convene at the Stoletalon Pass in Mulgore. She asks all to travel with great care as they cross enemy lines to meet with her.

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Ritual sacrifice. Now that’s de kinda event I be wantin’ to see, mon. Jokes aside, saw this pop up in the community discord and thought it was interesting. Check it out!

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Event 1 - Chekoyea Riverwillow’s Capture (Recap)

Mulgore possessed a beauty unlike the ashen forests or the shadows that drew long across Darkshore and Ashenvale. Its valleys and plateaus usually painted in rich swaths of green were like a sea of silver underneath a blanket of stars. The Night Warrior’s host, eternal and ever watchful. This night, they watched one of many of Elune’s daughters stand upon the rise of Stoletalon Pass. At her back were those dedicated to her vision: a mass living sacrifice. Though their opinions varied, they were all there to ensure her victory.

Though the unexpected halted what would have been a swift and vicious hunt, for in the skies a flying battleship droned with a baleful chopping of powerful metallic wings. Light pierced the comfortable shroud of night like a blade, and illuminated the sky and valley floor below. It was too convenient, but none, save the Goddess Herself would deny the small band their prize. Chekoyea Riverwillow was fated to be risen upon their altar. It was known as the Stonetalon Pass for a reason, for once, the Grimtotem took the pass in attempt to take over serene Mulgore.

Delerren would not be so bold, the shu’halo who guarded the pass would have to die, regardless—though the proud braves and skychasers were ripe for the slaughter—ruining their night vision by lining meager torches to light their night and provide what scant warmth they could. With brutal efficiency, the tauren met their fate without making a sound. Taluciela and Cyven of Ana’duna Thera performed above expectations, the finesse of the highborne’s blade and her magic left the shu’halo decapitated, and the ranger’s remarkable marksmanship left their prey with little hope. The Commander made sure that their tracks were well covered, subsuming the corpses of the fallen with powerful druidic magic. Vines ushered and welcomed the dead tauren like much needed nourishment for the earth. A single seed was planted at each site, and one day, the pass would bloom with picturesque irontrees.

The Nightcaller, Lazaeris, blessed their passage through the small outpost garrisoned at the base. Their Mother’s blessing softened their footfalls, and cast their movements in impenetrable shadow. Taluciela Shar’adore proved invaluable to the cause, expertly weaving an arcane weave that shrouded their advance through Mulgore. Aided by the grace of their Mother, the blessing of the Nightcaller, and powerful Shar’adore, none knew the lethal task force that invaded the heart of the shu’halo homeland.

To think, that the kaldorei passed sacred Red Rocks unnoticed by their enemies, was a testament of Elune’s faith in their sacred pursuit of justice. The shu’halo performed a coming of age rite not far up the mountains and into a deep cave. Commander Delerren remained behind, with only the protection of her warsaber Bash’adan, and the faithful owl companion of a night elf priestess, Esril, to keep watch. All those present agreed upon one thing: down to the last tauren present in the caves, save one, would die. Chekoyea Riverillow would be secured, and her tribe would be killed—such was the verdict to those who allowed the burning of Teldrassil.

The coming of the elves was like a great wave crashing against a lone stone pillar, such was its force that it sent the stone into the depths. The tauren who would follow their ancestors and become adults in the eyes of their people would die, as would their elders. Swift and sudden, any attempt at counterattack was quickly put to a swift and sudden stop. Opalarie showed skill and brutal might in her efforts that she alone took down the greatest number of tauren. This night, she took the mantle of vengeance, and justice was brought to those who burned upon the boughs of Teldrassil.

Victory assured, their captive secured, Cyven of Ana’duna Thera commanded his kin to take Chekoyea to Darkshore, and in due time rise upon the altar and meet her just end. Though Esril flew in the arms of Priestess Ilindria, the bird’s white plumage stained red. The voice of Chekoyea came out, tired and weary, the smallest mote of triumph in her voice.

“You may have slaughtered my tribe, but you have been betrayed. The Commander is ours, monsters.” The paint that had once disguised the druidess had sweated away, and all knew that they had in their midst an impostor. Betrayed, and then duped by their own quarry.

The hunt for Commander Breezedagger was short lived, those faithful to her vision raced across the expanse of Mulgore. They risked much by venturing further into the tauren homeland. At last, they came upon the sight of a lone warsaber and his beloved companion. The Commander was chasing after a great winged creature, a massive owl that flew desperately towards Bloodhoof. While skeletal mares began to run in circles around her, closing in, soon the owl would be out of reach. Swinging a warglaive into the air, she severed the wing of the bird and it fell from the sky in a heap. The Forsaken came then, several bolas entangled the warsaber, spears flew into the flesh of the apex predator. Her kin flew into desperate battle, and at the end of it, Bash’adan had fallen. Chekoyea was at last secured, having lead the Forsaken to the Commander, and unable to secure her thanks to the valiant efforts of her saber… was captured for it.

The ritual was that much closer to completion. Only nine sacrifices remained, and the Lunar Festival, drew near.

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((This event was amazing! I had a great time. I’m looking forward to more events like this, and encourage those of you who read this to join in on the next one! Thank you very much for those of you who came together and wrote this. <3 - Cyven))

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The hunt for the remaining sacrifices persist. Join us on the following dates, for a three part event that will begin in Azshara and end in Durotan. January the 20th, the 21st, and conclude on the 24th @8PM server. After the end of these events we will have secured three more captives to sacrifice near the end of the Lunar Festival! Interested parties may reach me in-game during the evening, or via discord.(Check my first post for that info).

As a reminder, these will be a DM’d D20 event, warmode off.

Delerren requests the aid of those who met with her at the Council of Stars. Talrendis Point will be the next staging point, the commander would require as much aid that can be mustered to secure her captives.

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Blood and Warpaint

The great door that warded the den opened to reveal the dark druidess, her feral features accentuated by the markings of orc blood that stained her fell countenance. In the darkness of the hastily prepared den, two matriarchs of the shu’halo laid in arcane bindings that sapped their strength. The den was shared between the three of them.

It was Chekoyea, who spoke first. Her eyes looked feverish, and she sweat profusely. The stink of an infected wound lingered heavy around her.

“The Cenarion Circle… will not let me die. You will answer for your crimes against my tribe!”

Delerren fixed her with a wild look, one of a saber who hunted not to fill her gut, but to taste the fear of its quarry. “Like how you answered for yours after watching the Banshee Queen burn my kin alive?” A manic grin spread across her features, she looked almost lupine, lips curling back to reveal her fangs. “We will see in the end, I will either lay broken in some foreign land hunting my enemies, or you will be raised upon the altar to face justice.”

The impostor spoke next, the hate in her eyes a low simmer. “You are no worse, you do your kin a disservice, you sacrifice in the name of violence and base slaughter…” She shook her head, “You promote heresy–” Delerren, pregnant as she was approached the tauren with such haste it was hard to believe. The right fang of her slain warsaber having cut the words out of the tauren’s throat.

Delerren offered no retort save the ending of the woman’s life. She shifted the direction of her vision to Chekoyea so fast, it caused the bones in Delerren’s hair to clatter with a dull dread music. The two shared a look for a long time, before Delerren spoke. Her voice low, the hunger in it was that of a ravenous near starving nightsaber.

“I am far worse, than any of you Horde.” She bowed her head, “I will become what is necessary to make amends for the failure of the kaldorei’s most sacred charge. If I must become a force of nature to dissect the cancerous, abominable Horde, I will not hesitate to do so.” She looked up to stare Chekoyea with her dark, pitiless eyes.

“You are consumed with pride, night elf. Alone you are nothing but a coward, assaulting my tribe on a night where we would welcome our young into adulthood - you are a monster. Weak by yourself, you rely upon the strength of others!”

The ward to the den opened again to permit two figures. The Nightcaller and his mate, the Huntmaster. The two men spared only a lingering glance to the dead tauren, their focus upon their captive.

“Commander, why is it you speak to those destined to die? The effort is too much,” The Nightcaller’s smooth, darkly musical voice whispered out. The Huntmaster remained quiet, but Delerren was quick to answer.

She spoke in Darnassian, “I want to know -why- she allowed us to kill her tribe so easily. She had the knowledge to prepare a counterattack—to alert the Braves that walk Thunderbluff…” She returned her gaze to Chekoyea.

The Huntmaster spoke then, “Ask it, your discussions before now seemed nothing of the sort.”

The dark druidess bristled silently, like a cat told to finish off her prey and cease the play. The look shared between the two druids, one kaldorei, the other shu’halo was one of absolute loathing. What camraderie they may have shared in the past was irrevocably gone.

“You had the means to save your tribe, though you sacrificed them for the chance to capture me…” Delerren narrowed her dark eyes, “Why?”

Chekoyea did not answer.

“She hides something, Lazaeris. I care not how you divine it, I demand you find out, and quickly.”

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Shadow of the Grand Enchantress’ Warship

Spells fired through the air like a dazzling display of fireworks, hurtling into long, tight hallways that pushed in all around them. It was a claustrophobic’s living nightmare, and Rae’lynn was barely able to keep up. She and her cadre had maintained their cover for months now. It all just fell apart, but if she could just get out of this nightmarish keep she could still salvage the mission. An explosion of stars and then a searing hot pain left her rolling into the ground. Acid was eating right through her flesh and melting her leathers directly into her skin. A hand reached out to her, she opened her eyes. Relief soon washed over her, a healing light – Nadaline was still with them, the Light hadn’t forsaken them entirely.

“We’re not through yet Cap—” Nadaline’s head exploded in a shower of gore, but Rae’lynn was already up and running. One of her men helped her gain her feet as she quickly retreated from their position.

“We just need to make the corner!” The reassuring voice of her second-in-command encouraged her and the rest of them to make it to end of the corridor. “Rae’lynn, keep going. If you can make it to end of the eastern wing, you can open a void portal back to the Commander.” He fletched an arrow as they all made the bend, he let it fly and the shrill cry of a goblin was enough to know he had dealt a lethal blow.

“You don’t know that, Tenlas!” She held the blueprints of the most recent magi-tech the Horde had devised. The Nightborne who helped the goblins manufacture the machine was here now, and she intended to kill them all to reclaim it.

“It’s our only hope, Rae’lynn, now act as our Captain, and lead us to victory!” He had let loose two more arrows, backed up by their voidcaller; most of the enemy casters had been silenced. They were on the move again, running with abandon, sweat running down their faces as they desperately tried to make it to the end of the corridor. They were almost there. The screams of two of her own was enough to hasten her speed, their death cry followed soon after. Her second-in-command shouted, “Rae’lynn, I’ll hold them off here, go!” He spun around, his arrows tinged with the Void. They ripped through the Horde pursuers like a warm knife through butter, their voidcaller moved to hinder their casters again with the incessant whispers of the Void.

Then she appeared. With a gauntlet that looked more at home on a goblin than on a Nightborne magistrix she summoned an arcane barrier.

“Tenlas, don’t be a fool, you don’t need to die here!” Rae’lynn screamed with mounting desperation. His arrows were bouncing off of the barrier. He looked at the voidcaller.

“Anaxrien disable the shield!”

He looked at Tenlas with fear, shaking his head. “It’s a machine I can’t–” An ice lance the size of a ballista bolt impaled the small voidcaller. Tenlas looked at Rae’lynn, and mouthed the silent word: ‘Go’. She fled. She drowned out all the noise, she didn’t want to hear when Tenlas died. There was only the three of them left, they made the end of the corridor and threw open the door. Slamming it shut, they reinforced it with Void – it would hold, if only temporarily. A richly furnished room welcomed them, despite the tumult of angry voices and the spellwork of their pursuants just behind them. Though relief came in the form of a great window, that covered the expanse of an entire wall to look over a lake filled with familiar green plague.

“Forget the door, let’s go home!” Rae’lynn called out, she dared to smile. The Void holding the door ceased, and her men turned tail. A troll’s throwing axe soon met the back of one their heads. The Nightborne magistrix strode forward with confidence as her men filled the room. Rae’lynn had already met the window, and jumped through it, soon followed by her last remaining operative. A Void portal opened up beneath them and she turned to take one final glance at the Nightborne magistrix, instead only able to see an ice lance hurtling her way. A rough hand pushed her out of the way, her man was hewn in half from the massive ice spear. There wasn’t time to mourn his sacrifice as she fell. The void portal took her, and remained open for only moments longer.

Valdren sat at his desk, quietly reviewing reports and the agenda for the day. His mind drifted upon the tardiness of Captain Rae’lynn, though it wasn’t unusual for her given her mission. Still though, a week’s overdue was cause for concern. Before he could ponder it further, a Void portal opened right before his desk. Rae’lynn, covered in blood, half her face and shoulder disfigured from acid burns reached forward with a large folded piece of durable parchment. He grabbed it, confusion clear on his face but a cautious smirk alighted upon his features. Just as he was about to say something, an ice lance erupted through her front, nearly taking his own head. Her blue eyes went wide as she looked at the spear, coughed up her last breath, and fell limp upon his desk, staining his reports in crimson. The void portal shut.

The Magistrix smirked triumphantly, even though she lacked the knowledge to know she had slain the Captain. The woman was more than confident in her own ability.

“My lady, you handled the interlopers read—”

High Warlord Elleu’lleyr spun on him, a dagger of ice held at his throat. “Cease your prattling, you stinking corpse. You had as many void elves in here as the Arcway had rats!” Her lips curled back, she was shaking with barely contained rage.

“Do you not have a single mage in your employ? I had detected their stink the moment I walked in your laboratory…” The forsaken held up his hands, bobbing his head.

“Many apologies… High Warlord.”

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Event 2, 3, and 4: Lunar Blessed Capture

That night the Creed of the Kaldorei gathered in the ruined remains of Talrendis Point, to bare witness of the defilement of the once ever beautiful, autumn-kissed Azshara. Strip mines had reshaped the lands, aggressive logging companies cared little for restoration efforts, and large swaths of the land were bare save for stumps and over trodden grass. The gates of Orgrimmar yawned upon like a satisfied giant having ate its fill; for now, that is. Much closer though, was Gallywix’s pleasure palace.

There was little time, and much to be done that night, for not only did they seek to capture the Mogul Ratiszak for his crimes against the ecosystem of Azshara, but also the Champion of Orgrimmar Nazsalla, and the Mag’har Farseer Nharg’har. Each had played a role in the burning of Teldrassil. For that, they must die upon Elune’s altar.

Commander Delerren’s intelligence spoke of a disturbance on the coast of Azshara. The group quickly decided to take a northern route. While it would take longer to reach their destination, the risk of discovery was far less. They came upon a group of goblin brutes and bruisers taking slaves from the Blackmaw Hold. They were quickly put down, and although the Blackmaw were no friends to the night elves after a Horde plot, the kaldorei quickly set one among their number free. It was with some argument, for releasing the prisoners could lead them to attack their oppressors, alerting the presence of the Creed. Though it was done, and they moved quickly across Azshara.

At last the coast’s shoreline came into sight, after many close calls. Though the Goddess and Her infinite grace allowed them to pass, for the most part; undetected. What greeted them was nothing less than abomination. A massive drill, with eight great and mighty arachnid-like legs. Azeroth had a fresh new open wound, and it was massive. Shan’do Valeclaw, with the aid of several druids called forth mighty chimaeras, as well as several hippogryphs to aid in the assault against this monstrosity. A mining operation had been built overnight, and as of yet, could still be uprooted before it took a quick hold.

The Mogul rode upon a hovercraft equipped with a fire laser any blood mage or pyromancer would be envious of. Through the combined efforts of Azshara’s displaced flying wildlife and the Creed, the monstrous machinery was defeated by the sacrifice of an Ancient of Eternity’s acorn. A massive overgrowth sealed the wound and dismantled the drill, but only for so long. The Mogul sought to escape, but through the act of intricate and delicate portal magic provided by Lord Magnus and Lady Shar’adore his capture was secured by a formidable kaldorei warrior: Tharasi.

Commander Delerren was greatly diminished by the battle, but luckily her brother was there. By use of a mass illusory spell, he concealed a gathering of hippogryphs as goblin choppers, and so the night elves escaped to Southfury River.

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Commander Delerren and her brother Beregon had allowed the Creed an hour’s respite, as the night was no longer young; they had four hours at most to procure their final captives. The Horde did not dare think the kaldorei would go beyond embattled Darkshore to strike so deep behind enemy lines, especially so close to the capital of their power, Orgrimmar.

Those brief hours were spent preparing several traps of arcane and druidic variety, and even the eye of an assassin and Sentinel were used to create the death trap Champion Nazsalla and her century would walk blindly into. The kaldorei are world-renown for their prowess in guerilla warfare, and none understand it better. With arrows, glaives, and the remnants of Elune’s night blessing, they readied for their boldest challenge yet.

As a last resort, Lady Shar’adore prepared a powerful illusory spell. When triggered, the Horde would turn against one another. Shan’do Valeclaw imbued the arcane with his blessings of bestial rage. The magics would work well in besting the many numbers of the century. All the Creed needed to do was survive.

Beregon was tasked with leading the battle—a wizard of no great skill, but her trusted brother all the same. The Commander was ailing, and her pregnancy was overburdening her. She would remain in the rear, and aid only if necessary. With the traps prepared, the untested magister commanded Nightcaller Lazaeris and Jiya of Order of Malorne to take a small cadre of rangers on to the other side of the river, for the river would be an easy route to escape the dangers the kaldorei had lying in wait for them.

The century came, and none among the group was truly prepared. They numbered just twenty-five in total, and that was counting the Commander. As they passed the first tree, the first traps were sprung. Smoke bombs burst from the ground, spraying noxious fumes that disoriented and debilitated the enemy front line. Stumbling forward, they triggered the trip wires, and sharpened wooden spears swung forward gutting several of them. The night elves came then, tossing their glaives and spells alike, baiting them forward. Just as the rest of their number made it past the first tree, a magical explosion sent the tree to the ground—a necessary sacrifice in ensuring they did not escape.

The battle was hard-fought. The kaldorei gave ground, never lingering in one place for too long. Quickly, the Horde wizened up to the river, their death knights and shamans granting them passage across while the rest of the century pursued them on land. Lady Shar’adore prepared a sudden, powerful casting: she froze the Southfury River still. The Nightcaller, invoking the rites of the Night Warrior—the dark and warlike aspect of Elune—, led the rangers to make quick work of those who attempted to make the pass.

Though that did not last. The rangers were killed, the Nightcaller cornered. Beregon, realizing his error in judgement at the Horde’s advance over the river, quickly opened a portal for the Night Warrior adherent. The portal was readily taken, but the Nightcaller was gravely wounded. It took time to conjure the portal, and some among their number did not survive while they stalled time for the magister. Still though he fought, while his mate and Huntmaster felled the healers with savage precision—using his exceptional strength to toss spears and slaying them on the spot.

The Champion was practically on top of them now. The final trap sprung, and the Horde were lost. They were convinced they were set upon a large ambush of elves, and with the bestial rage influencing their actions, none paused to consider what they had done. Nazsalla, trapped in a punji beside her centurion mate, could only watch in rage and frustration as her men butchered each other. Their caravans charging ahead into the forests of Ashenvale, to become lost. Jiya, the mysterious leader of the Order of Malorne, secured Nazsalla with a poisoned tip blade—forcing the champion to rest. But not before Lady Shar’adore slaughtered the centurion before her eyes.

The first rays of dawn were approaching. Though there was one final captive required.

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The Creed has received distressing news from their contacts; Commander Valdren met with Delerren to inform her of a flying airship equipped with the latest azerite magi-tech headed straight for Darkshore. This news was then immediately sent up the chain of command and orders have been issued. The Creed—effective immediately—will aid the Sentinel Army by serving as shock troops to infiltrate the warship before it reaches Darkshore. The Head of Command, Grand Enchantress and acting High Warlord of the ship, Elleu’lleyr, is to be neutralized as a threat so that the ship may be brought down.

(( We will be using the Alliance Airship in Northrend as a proxy for this event, unless interested event participants come up with a better idea! The event will be taking place tomorrow Sunday 1/27/19 @ 8 PM Server.))

Delerren requests all of the Creed and their allies who are not readily engaged in combat to assist in this endeavor, and CAPTURE Grand Enchantress Elleu’lleyr as their fifth sacrifice. The following night, Dark Ranger Almoora Arrowsong has decided this “sacrifice” must come to an end. She launches a small-scale invasion against the hastily made barrow dens at the Grove of the Ancients. Her aim is to release the captives and slay Delerren and any kaldorei or Alliance that stand in her way. Rescue Delerren, and capture the Dark Ranger!

(( This event will be using the barrow dens in Moonglade as a proxy, and will be taking place on Monday, 01/28/19 at 8PM Server. ))

I am posting these in advance, so individuals have more time to make their plans.
02/04/19 at 8PM Server: Tauren of Highmountain We will be meeting at Windshear Hold, Stonetalon Peaks. After Elleu’lleyr’s defeat over Ashenvale, Master Blacksmith Grovag Stonebreaker was sent out with a great moving forge. They intend to salvage the ship, and reach the warfront and bolster the forces with fresh weapons! Stop him in Stonetalon.

02/05/19 at 8PM Server: Troll of Zandalar We will be meeting at the ships above the waters of Vashj’ir as a proxy between Orgrimmar and Zuldazar. Zandalari ambassadors make their way to Orgrimmar. We will reach them before they make their destination. Among them, there is a High Priest of Pa’ku. Slay the ambassadors and their Forsaken bodyguards, capture the High Priest.

02/08/19 at 8PM Server: Sin’dorei of Quel’Thalas We will be meeting in the ruins of Ordil’Aran, Ashenvale The final sacrifice. Few magistrixes are among the patriarchy of Silvermoon, and so we will rob them of her brilliance. The blood mage seeks to collaborate with the magisters of Suramar. Our own mages and Highborne will interrupt their telemancy and redirect them to a location of our choosing.

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Event 5 Recap

A spell had been cast—a potent spell—the likes of which had not been witnessed in a great, long, time. The dreaded airship that housed the Grand Enchantress Elleu’lleyr was the focal point of this casting, empowered by Azeroth’s lifeblood. An arctic blizzard stormed above the great boughs and green of Ashenvale. Grey clouds of ruinous might rained upon the forest with snow and hail. The Creed was lying in wait, unprepared for the magical land-altering magic from the magi-tech the nightborne and goblins had collaborated to create together. Commander Delerren was astride a large kaldorei chimaera, perched like a bat underneath a large tree bough. Looking from above her followers, their gathering was small, and hardy in comparison.

There could be few mistakes this mission, as it could easily spell the doom of them all. There would be no hope of defeating the ship altogether - they outnumbered her followers five to one. The extraction of Elleu’lleyr was paramount to their success, the magistrix could easily overpower what plans they had prepared. After a short briefing, those gathered took to the skies. Accompanying them were hundreds upon hundreds of sprite darters. Their combined wing beats had a strange, curious effect: drowning out all sound, effectively silencing their approach. Lunarwings and birds of all feathers followed not far behind - a blessing from Aviana or her druids of the talon, surely, for how else would so many creatures take flight into direct combat?

The storm was a double edged sword; while dangerous to maneuver, it provided the best cover one could ask for. Mist and clouds alike disguised their advance. As they neared the ship, its defenses became readily clear. A massive barrier, held steady by shield-mages, would quickly fall from the mass-silencing effect the sprite darters prepared. They would only have moments before the ship’s guns would launch an offensive against the darters. As they approached, the dreaded ship’s shield shuddered momentarily before altogether vanishing.

By the dozens, sprite darters and birds began to fall from the sky. The lunarwings could not resist the slaughter, but still they approached all the same. Delerren was first to reach the ship, her chimaera snatching up a shield-mage in its maws, while its other head sprayed acid across the ship’s deck. They were still surrounded by the silence zone, they would have to act fast to disable the shield-mages. Jointly, her kin dispatched the mages with ease, either by cutting them down where they stood or throwing them overboard.

Beregon took to leading the group through the ship, organizing their efforts against the ship’s crew that outnumbered them hopelessly. The man was clearly unprepared for the battle, shaken by having seen some of their number fall from their hippogryphs to their deaths. The assassin Opalarie proved invaluable, cutting down the Horde’s numbers like a shade of vengeance. Taluciela focused on the storm—it still raged around them, now affecting the ship, making it slick and icy, and the birds Delerren commanded to fall from the sky or their strength to wane against the bitter winds.

“Commander! The top of the ship, I sense a source of great power!” Taluciela managed to cry out despite looking throughout the ships and its many combatants for the now missing-in-action priestess of Elune, Ilindria. Delerren took with her the chimaera and, with its fearsome might and the combined efforts of the birds, managed to subdue the storm and the ship’s defenses to some degree. Battling across the ship, they were able to breach the captain’s quarters, but all were to some degree wounded and drained.

The Grand Enchantress was a fearsome mage, her spells empowered by magi-tech. She proved deadly numerous times, her spells impaling them with frozen lances. Whenever the battle grew dire, she would teleport away, and the combatants would have to chase her across the ship again. At last, in the cargo hold, they cornered the enchantress. Opalarie and her Iscariot Legion held the line at the staircases leading down there. The combatants were failing, Elleu’lleyr summoning her allies in to aid her - but at last the combined efforts of the Creed saw her captured. The ship began to fall as soon as Beregon made telepathic contact with his sister. Their High Warlord defeated, their morale was shaken, with the last reserves of their strength they broke through the Horde as they attempted to find their own escape in the few choppers that were available to the azerite empowered dreadship. As soon as they escaped to the deck, they were completely free falling—though Aviana’s many children swooped in to carry them away.

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