Illness and pandemic are not foreign concepts in the world of Azeroth, from the plague to blight, and magical illnesses in between. You heard, in passing, that a strange illness has cropped up, thought to be from the jungles of Nazmir. A week later, the illness had spread all over Azeroth. Does your character treat the infected, bunker down at home, contract the illness, or panick? How does your character handle a situation not unlike what is happening in reality? I’ve left the lethality up to you, the interpreter of the prompt. Do you go with a mild but rapid spreading virus, or a lethal contagion? The choice is yours, and how your character reacts is up to you.
((Sometimes, these really mirror reality because I find thinking about how scenarios would play out for my characters encountering real world issues helps make them more… real. Ya know? And it is chaos and confusion at work because the “plan” from the “planning meetings” going on ALL week was decided to be put into effect 10 minutes before my shift with little communication to us minions… Amusing.))
Info
This is meant to be a fun exercise, so there aren’t many rules.
Prompts are fun little things meant to inspire. You don’t have to perfectly match the prompt. Just let it inspire a thought.
I’m going to try and post these weekly, sometime between Saturday and Monday probably. Feedback and prompt ideas are welcome, so feel free to post them in the archive thread. Some prompts will be more thought provoking, some more whimsical. Respect your fellow writers.
Disclaimer: I cannot take full credit for every prompt. Some of these I create on my own, some are prompts I’ve seen that I’ve taken a WoW spin to, and some I’ve seen and used in the past, some are ideas spoken in passing between me and coworkers, or guildmates, or some are offered directly from folks on the forums. If I’ve been directly given a prompt from another person, I will credit them unless they do not want to. Otherwise, know some of these are gained through many means.
My character would ask any affliction warlock about the info. if they know a few tricks to become immune.
Beyond that. cast a soulstone and hope for the best. isolating in my house wouldnt really work. ill camp out in the woods for a week or two
Imbrei swore, trying to keep the soup from burning. She had gotten caught up in washing bedding, and had just caught it in time.
The virus that was currently ravaging Orgrimmar hit almost the entire populace, though the Blood Elves seemed to be immune so far, leaving them to tend to the ill and dying. Deaths were thankfully low, mostly the elderly and infirmed.
The huntress jumped when a hand was placed on her shoulder, hand going to the knife on her belt.
“Easy Hunteress Amberforge.” A Paladin smiled gently. “I was asked to relieve you. The Healer said you had been here for days already. You need rest and food.” Imbrei shook her head.
“I can’t, I have to finish the bread for the soup and change the sheets with the ones that are cleaned…” The other Elf cut her off.
“I can do that, and there are others here from Northrend and the Outlands. Go rest. Or do I have to find someone to make that an order?” Imbrei huffed, but relented.
“Thank you for your assistance.” She said, bowing to them before leaving. She should check on Thrudd before she left though…
“A disease spreading all over the realm?” he growled to no one in particular.
The market was nearly empty, with few kul tirans attempting to sell smelly fish as the sunset painted the skies over Boralus in a shade of orange.
Rohart tossed the parchment with the warning over his shoulder and glanced at the port.
Many people were trying to get a boat to the mainland, much to the stress of a group of priests attempting to maintain order and provide blessings so the travel could maybe have few casualities.
The man let a long sigh and walked back to the empty Snug Harbor Inn. The innkeeper payed no attention to the man wearing a suit of armor that seemed about two sizes too big. The only sound Rohart could hear while he walked up the stairs was the “clank” noise his boots emitted at every step.
Rohart finally reached the room he rented. Upon entering it , the man sat on his bed, alongside a brown bag, filled with gold from his last bounty, and began taking apart his oversized armor.
“I guess I’ll have to stay inside for a while. I wonder if the innkeeper serves actual food here, or just fish…”
Cackling madly, Sir Archibald Guidonis led his warhorse and riding horse at break-neck speed out of the small town, their saddle-bags laden with every scrap of bath tissue available.
Illness and pandemic? A new policy to keep hands clean and bathe regularly for not for my own sake, but because of a major threat to children and elderly. I would say it’s a step in the right direction seeing how contaminated Lordaeron is. I suppose one could point fingers at the undead that are now baking in the sun when they were uses to living in the dark and dampness of the Undercity, but blame would be meaning less at this point.
I wasn’t living in Orgrimmar or even in Azeroth during the Corrupted Blood incident caused but Hakkar the Soulflayer, but I suppose I can see the reason why people would panic at these times. I never stop hearing the stories about how younger orcs and troll corpses littered the streets from people that lived through that and how guards and labors continued to work to make ends meet continue to spread the illness.
As it stands right now I would make a extra effort to keep myself cleansed and double my efforts to keep my weapons and equipment as sanitary as possible and if I see a number of people clearly working through a sickness. Staying away from those areas of business might be a good plan of action
“Analyzing worldwide pandemic… Optimal end result identified, spread pandemic decimate living populations… Best possible version of Azeroth is one of metal… Reconfiguring plan for domination of living…” Nerivos droned, his dark programming awakening deep inside as he saw a opportunity to fulfill his purpose… Nerivos’s eyes lit up in a dark icy blue as he rise from his metal seat that he had in his place of home… Nerivos took a step forward the slight crackling of snow underfoot, a regular thing in the upper north part of the continent Northrend, the artificial intelligence would need to secure transportation back towards the main continents, any quarantine options that the races were employing would need to be broken down. This was his directive… Reanimation of dead hosts… This required dead hosts…