[Prompt] Vacation

(Suggestion by Morician) Today is the day! You have been planning this trip for months. It is road trip time! Where do you go? Is it about the destination or the travel? Do you take family? Friends? Is it more of a traditional trip or a fun trip? Business or pleasure?


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.


Archive: Kersia's Prompt Archive and Discussion

The old Gnome puttered around his small apartment in Stormwind, Old Town. It was early. The sun was just nearing the horizon but had yet to make it’s debut for the day. The bulk of his planning and packing had been taken care of the day before. Now he gathered a few small items, straightened and cleaned a few items from dinner and his rest the night before. When the small things were gathered and his meticulous straightening was finished, Cailean pulled at the chain at his belt and produced his pocket watch. “It’s time.” The old Gnome muttered to the small empty apartment.

He shuffled over to the door and hefted his pack. It wasn’t terribly big or full, even for a Gnome, but it carried everything he would need for his journey. He checked and adjusted the few pouched on his belt and patted his robes with a hand to find his pipe, his pouch of tobacco, and a small box of matches. He lifted his wide brimmed black hat from its hook beside the door and donned the item, then took up his short gnarled cane of blackened oak. It was well cared for, oiled and naturally polished to a dull shine. He turned one last time to look upon his small apartment. A pang of lament clenched his throat knowing that he wouldn’t see the old familiar trappings again for some time. A part of him wondered if this might be the last. Pushing aside grim thoughts, he checked his belt again for a different item. He found it sheathed just behind his right hip, hidden by his cloak. It’s companion was at the bottom of his pack, clasped shut and tightly wrapped in linen. That knowledge strangely put his mind at ease. He turned then and pulled open his door, stepped outside and tightly pulled it closed to set the latch.

The streets of Stormwind were quiet and still at this hour. Cailean relished the peace he seldom experienced as he made his way through the Trade District, out to the Valley of Heroes and the main gate. The sun was nearing it’s dawn, casting it’s muted light into the skies. Seated at the foot of Khadgar’s Statue was the Void Elf Valamae. Her back against the base of Khadgar’s statue, facing Alleria Windrunner’s depiction. Her eyes took in the grandeur of the first of them as she once was. As Cailean approached the seated elf she pulled her gaze from the almost godly effigy, and considered the old Gnome. “Doctor.” She greeted him with a smile. Her voice carried that unearthly echo denoting the void’s influence.

Cailean smiled at her and offered a nod. “Good morning.” The old Gnome took a place beside her and stood leaning on his cane. He glanced up at the statue of Alleria. “Remarkable, isn’t she?” Valamae responded with a reverent tone. “She is.” The Void Elf turned to consider Cailean. “Thank you for taking me on this trip with you. After everything that’s transpired it will be good to take some time and reflect.”

Cailean nodded. “Of course, my dear. It will take us some time, making our way to Thelsamar by the Loch.” He gazed up at the godly effigy of Alleria. “I long to see the Valley of Kings once more. To pay my respects and pass between Madoran and Khardros once more.” His voice took on a subtle tremble betraying his age. “I long to wander the snowy forests of Dun Morogh and venture through their southern path again.”

Valamae smiled at the old Gnome. Her eyes filled with compassion. “Why Thelsamar? Won’t we travel by the southern pass into the mountains?”

“Aye.” Cailean muttered. “We’ll continue through Thelsamar and take the Northern Pass instead. I have an old friend to visit. His tinkering shop is there on the outskirts. I also know a few of the guards stationed at Dun Algaz, so we’ll pause there for the night.” He stepped around Valamae and continued on his way. “Day light is burning.”

Valamae chuckled. “Twilight was always my favorite time of the day, or night for that matter.” She stood and gathered her own satchel, taking pace at the Gnome’s side. After a few strides she muttered down at the old Gnome. “You know there is a tram, right?” Cailean grunted. “Yes, I am aware.” He shrugged his shoulders to adjust the weight of his pack. “This is just as much about the journey as it is the destinations.” Valamae glanced down at Cailean. “Dangers included?” Cailean nodded. His wide brim hat waving the acknowledgement. “Dangers included. You can’t have a proper adventure without a little danger along the path. And besides. We’re making a stop at the Abbey in Northshire, then to the Tower of Azora in Elwynn, and since we’re already headed in that direction I figure it’d be best to keep going.”

Valamae grimaced at the old Gnome. She decided to poke at Cailean’s logic. “Best? Wouldn’t it be best to take a griffon back to Stormwind and hop the tram?” Cailean replied. “I don’t much care for backtracking. I much prefer moving forward. Little is gained by looking backward. Besides, as I said…”

Valamae nodded. “To the journey then.” After several silent strides Cailean continued. “And besides all of that, you and I have a great deal to discuss concerning the Void, young lady. There’s much we can teach each other.” Valamae didn’t have much to say to that. She was well acquainted with his studies and curation work, and the two had conversed on several occasions about the darker arts, specifically concerning shadow works. With all the hustle and bustle about Kul Tiras and Zandalar of late there’d hardly been a moment to spare between them. Valamae knew that this discussion between them was a long time coming, and though she didn’t much like talking about the darkness she knew it would benefit them both.

After a moment of silence between them Cailean began humming a traveling tune to pass the time.

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Myorga stepped out of Stormwind Keep and breathed a sigh of relief. Matthias Shaw was always an intense man, however giving him a report of her findings was never a task anyone enjoyed, much less so when the report was that there simply was nothing to find. Would she be dismissed from service or retasked? She never knew, even with her backers and presence as a Gilnean, what the next day would hold. But this time, she did. For, having given her report of nothingness to Shaw, she was free for an entire month to do as she pleased; and what she pleased was to take a journey to visit family and relax by the sea.

Myorga walked down the steps and into the city of Stormwind itself and made her way to the Trade District where she had rented a room at the inn. On the way there, she passed by a small flower shop, but was disappointed to see that it was closed. The proprietor had kindly left a rather passive aggressive note stating that she was gone to Kalimdor in search of new flowers. Having read the note, she continued to the tavern and proceeded to her room.

The room was small, but cozy. She quickly undid her armored jacket and placed it on the floor and removed the shirt underneath and replaced it with a fresh, clean white shirt. Her armored trousers quickly followed suit and were replaced with a fresh pair of clean shorts. The rest of her armor soon lay in a neat pile to be cleaned and repaired while she was gone. She undid the band holding her hair back in a pony tail and let the jet-black tresses fall naturally around her shoulders and down her back. She grabbed a hooded cloth robe and threw it on over everything else. It was a simple robe, a dark olive green, the kind of robe worn by a young Gilnean huntress so many years ago; her robe given to her by her mother when she was barely a teen.

Satisfied that she was dressed appropriately for her journey, she grabbed her rifle and put it over her shoulder, a precaution should her father ask her to hunt game for a meal–and she knew he would. She gathered everything in a neat pile by the bed leaving only her uniform belt around her waist to hold her money and ammunition and exited the room. She left a note with the innkeeper that Gilneas Imperial would be around to collect her things and she headed off for the Stormwind docks.

She always enjoyed this part of her journey to visit family. After the first landfall in the Broken Isles, a small group of Gilneans had been located living in Valsharah in the small town of Bradensbrook. Her father and her cousin never really felt at home living in Darnassus with the Night Elves and now with the world tree burned, even more so. She arrived at the dock and pleasantly smiled to see that her horse had already been loaded, stabled, and was being fed.

She smiled again in anticipation of rejoining her family as the dockmaster signaled that the ship would be leaving soon.

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Grunts hungry for blood and thunder regarded a posting at Sunrock Retreat as a fate worse than death. Nothing dangerous happened here. Even when war came to Stonetalon this Tauren backwater remained unmolested by conflict. The Alliance, the Legion and even the Grimtotem never attacked the place. That’s what made the Forsaken’s arrival so unsettling.

He appeared in the dead of night upon a Plaguebat that was heralded by an eerie silence brought about by the local wildlife’s scattering at the scent of an apex predator. The undead wore the armor of a field apothecary, still caked in drying gore and reeking of alchemical compounds. He spoke a word to no one, save the Plaguebat, who took off into the black sky at a command in his unnatural tongue. Then he removed his armor and strode directly into the pond.

That was sixteen hours ago. The water remained still. If it hadn’t been for the warnings of the night guard the new shift would’ve noticed nothing amiss. By Hellscream’s axe, what was that wretch doing? Had the Banshee Queen deemed this forgettable hamlet a suitable place for a weapon’s test? Had some abyssal portal been torn open - inviting faceless things to gather just beneath the surface? What deeds of sustained cruelty and wicked portent was their mysterious visitor conducting down there?

Benedikt was sleeping. It was a luxury for his kind and one he hadn’t indulged in at length since this misadventure of a war began. His mind wandered to better times. Thoughts of his childhood in Alterac to the brief but pleasant peace enjoyed after the Argus War. He thought of family, friends and lovers lost in the many unceasing calamities that bothered this world. He also thought of just how long it’d been since he’d had a proper Sunscale Salmon dinner. He started to consider how one might recreate this with Murloc meat before his eyes fluttered open.

‘Ah, that’s right, I fell asleep underwater. Explains the fish fixation’ he thought to himself. His eyes flicked upward and observed an apricot light dancing on the water’s surface. Hmm. Sunset. He’d been down here awhile. He checked his surroundings and then himself. His gaws had completely disintegrated and an olive cloud had formed around him wrought by ichor escaping from wounds he hadn’t quite got around to tending. It probably wasn’t enough to cause a problem but exposure to fluids of undeath tended to cause unexpected side effects. The giant maggots in Lordaeron sprung to mind. Best to be on the safe side. He clasped his hands together and with conviction uttered a powerful prayer. A radiance of Holy Light exploded from him and abolished any disease or harm his extended stay may’ve caused in a blast that briefly turned the water a bright emerald.

‘Well that ought to do’ Benedikt thought to himself before realizing that the wasted gaws had caused another problem. He was completely nude and had just drawn considerable attention to his position with his little Light show. Hmm. Maybe he could wait till the sun set? Ehh. Honestly that sounded boring. He made his decision. Eldritch and extraordinary words escaped his lips, consuming him in dark energy and dispersing his corporeal form into a living shadow.

Up top the Grunt Captain readied her war axe with a fatalistic determination. She was well aware that this small detachment guarding Sunrock Retreat would not be able to repel much but they swore an oath to defend the Horde and would not leave these villagers alone to contend with whatever depravity was emerging from the strange light. Behind her the most experienced troops stood at attention. In the lodge the rookies - who not but a day before loudly boasted welcome to any danger to break up the tedium - hastily scribbled letters to family, having never dreamt the end would meet them here.

The Captain watched as a blackness broke through the surface and drifted over the waterline to that cursed Forsaken’s equipment. It twisted and moved about his belongings before it changed course and skittered toward her. She dug in her heels, gripped her axe for dear life and had just about sounded a warcry when the shadow swirled inward, manifesting a concerned looking undead wearing only pants.

“Is zere somesing wrong?” Benedikt inquired, looking around for some threat.

“Blarafg!” the Captain replied, the mix of adrenaline and confusion leaving her at a loss for coherent sentences.

“Mein apologies I’m not zat goot vith Orkish, vhat does ‘Blarafg’ mean?” asked Benedikt.

“What were you doing down there?!” the Captain asked, lowering her axe but still holding it in a lime knuckle grip.

“Ach, mein apologies. Vas out like a light. I uh, leaked, a bit but I sink I kleared zat all up.” replied Benedikt.

The Orc Captain continued to stare daggers at him.

“… So, no trouble zen?” Benedikt asked again, futilely surveying the landscape for some sort of hostile.

“I’m not sure” growled the Captain.

“Vell, let me know vhen zoo are. I still have a goot cache of healing potions vith mein sings. Also veird question but how far vould zoo say zee coast is?” inquired Benedikt

“Long walk” replied the Captain, cautiously holstering her war axe.

“Vell sat von’t due” muttered Benedikt as he wandered into a more open part of the town and summoned a pillar of holy fire unto himself that seemed to have no visible origin point. He then stood around awkwardly for a few seconds as the Grunts looked at him, their horror becoming mere bewilderment.

“Oh und I know zis isn’t zoor job but if zoo kould point zee town armorer toward mein sings I’d be very appreciative. Price isn’t a koncen” he added.

“Umm…” started the Captain before the sound of mighty wings alerted her of the Plaguebat’s return, who landed near Benedikt, clutching an adult nightsaber in it’s maw.

“Ah vell zoo’ve been a busy girl Heidi” Benedikt said, levitating to scratch the beast behind her massive ear. “Eh don’t vorry about it Kapitan I’m hier for a couple of days, I’ll figure it out” added Benedikt as he climbed onto his war beast.

Heidi beat her wings and took off eastward toward the Veiled Sea’s coast, leaving the Orcs to process what just happened.

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They had been cunning in their timing, much of Stormwind’s military, including a chunk of their city guard, had been absent. They had been baffling in the speed and efficiency of their advance. But most importantly, they had been audacious in the very nature of the plan.

“This, Anduin? This is why we don’t let warlocks enter positions of power.” Genn rumbled, unable to muster a genuine rage in the face of his bafflement.

Every ice cream shoppe in Stormwind had been sold out in a little over ten minutes. No soul had been harmed, they had left before screaming crowds had trampled anyone, but the weeping merchants cursed the demons that had absconded with their product (conveniently forgetting that said demons had politely paid for every cone).

Anduin, flush with embarassment, clung fast to optimism. “Well… at the very least the damage to the city was minimal. And we learned a valuable lesson, and we’ll be stepping up security again!”

Mathias, feeling like the only sane man left in the world, was too busy pounding his head against a stone pillar to comment.

All of them knew precisely who was behind this incident, the chronicler was hardly malevolent, but was blessed with all the social graces of a brick.

Giddis Blackbolt needed to stop listening to Gibtok’s ideas.

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