RP stories-Let's see your character shine

I wanted to spur some rp here. So let’s hear about your characters day. I will start.

A Day in Eversong

Green grass, lovely golden leaves on stately trees, all conspired to lead the unwary down a dangerous path. Although Silvermoon City Guards patrolled regularly, still there were wandering Scourge that would not hesitate to attack.

The students trailed behind Magister Verasalle Sunchaser, causing her to pause and allow them to catch up. “Do not dawdle, we have a lot of ground to cover, and not much time is allowed today out of the classroom.” Some of the students blushed and hurried their steps to gather around her. Glancing around to see all ten of them were now accounted for, she continued her stately walk.

“Why are we out here again? The danger is in the past. I want to go back to the library.” Evalise complained. Her blonde hair dancing in the slight breeze, she fussed with it and frowned at her teacher.

Verasalle stopped once more to give Evalise a stern look. “There are still Scourge in the area. It is cursed to be this way until the Magisters in the High Council decide what to do about it. Can you defend yourself if you are attacked?”

This startled Evalise and she looked around fearfully. Suddenly the beauty of Eversong faded and she imagined ghosts and walking skeletons hiding in every bush. “I…I can try. My father taught me some spells.” Her voice wavered as she made sure to walk closer to her classmates. There was safety in numbers, right?

Trying to hide a smirk, Vera turned away and continued down the path. “We will not go far, The Sanctum of the North Star is just a short distance down this path. The ruins are further down the road, in the Ghostlands. We will not go there. We will not have to cross the Scar, so stay close.”

One of the boys snickered at Evalise as she stumbled over something in the road. “LOOK!” he cried, “It’s a bone! Maybe it will jump up and attack you!”

The scream echoed through the serene woods and startled a deer grazing nearby. Vera whirled around and prepared a defensive spell, only to see her students cackling like crazy at poor Evalise, who had latched onto one of her friends, only to knock both of them down into the grass. The poor girl was now sobbing hysterically.

“That was cruel and unnecessary, Malcolm. Apologize to Evalise and help her to her feet. You will receive a red mark on your progress today.” Vera scolded the red haired boy.

The patrol nearby had come to investigate and they were relieved that no one was hurt. “Normally, the bones here on the path are from the predators that prowl these woods. The cats are restless, and will attack the unwary. Be more cautious when you cross the Scar. Hurry across and call for a guard if you see any skeletons waking.”

Malcolm sheepishly apologized to Evalise. “I am sorry, I was only joking with you. Forgive me?” He extended a hand to help her up. He was a bit annoyed that the teacher had given him a red mark for today. Even though it was his own fault.

Now thoroughly shaken, Evalise rose from the ground and brushed grass and golden leaves from her gown. “I want to go back, NOW!” She petulantly refused Malcolm’s hand and begged the guard. “Please take me back to the Academy! I am not ready for this.”

Sighing in agreement, Verasalle nodded to the guard. “Would you be so kind as to escort Evalise back to Sunstrider Isle? She will feel safer there. Her father will reward you I am sure.”

The guard bowed to the Magister and offered his arm to Evalise. “It will be done, as it is my duty to protect all.”

“The rest of you, come along. We have not come this far only to abandon our lesson for today. The building is in sight now. If we hurry, Lady Amarlei will have refreshments for us.” Sheparding them along ahead of her now to make sure they did not stray, Vera finally managed to get them to the Sanctum safely.

Once inside, the students relaxed and sat themselves down on the elegant sofas to rest. Amarlei Shadowstar greeted them all with smiles and made sure there was enough snacks to go around. There was wine and fresh fruit, as well as little cakes and cheese. “So glad to see you all made it here. Quite an adventure, to be sure. I remember my first time outside of the Sunstrider Isle.”

Vera smiled as she allowed her friend to tell the story. The students needed to be aware of the dangers, not frightened by every shadow. How she would ever be able to get them all to that level of confidence, she did not know. But she would try and give it her best effort. Only time and experience would tell if they would grow into fine citizens of Silvermoon and eventually the whole of Azeroth would become their greatest adventure.

That is all I will give on this character. Feel free to add your own short story.


The sun shone high in the midday sky. Peeking through the leaves of the thick trees. The scene was almost reminiscent of Quel’thalas. The warmth of the wind; and the touch of the grass. If one were to close their eyes, it would likely trick the senses into believe this was the Sin’dorei home.

This was far from home. Both in distance, and in actuality. The wind was warmed not only by the sun, but from the energy radiating from the Twisting Nether. The grass, while soft, hid Phase Stalkers; and Netherweb Spiders. The trees were not the tall golden oaks of home; but the grey trees with grey leaves of Terrokar Forest.

This new land provided new opportunities however. This particular Sin’dorei woman would use every chance she could, for her people of course. Velathria Netherwind, FIrst Magistrix of the Dawnfury Accord, and relative recent arrival to Outland, saw much potential.

“The air is thick with magical energy.” Velathria said aloud.

“I’ve even heard tale of the arcane storms that plague Netherstorm. A shame to let all that energy go to waste.” her words dripping with scheming intent.

A smile, slighty twisted at the corners, formed on her face. She raised her hand and pull mana from the very air around her. As the energy, rich and blue, course through her veins, she let out a pleased sigh.

Closing her palm, and opening her eyes, Velathria began uttering a familiar spell. Purple runes form at her feet. Demonic energy coursed around her. As she finished her incantation, a black sphere formed next to here. The sphere morphed quickly to a hulking mass, bound in shackles. In the distance, the familiar whiny of her Dreadsteed Fin’endal could be heard.

“Come Charphog.” Velathria said as she mounted her steed.

“We have work to do.”


Camille Marjorie Rouleaux shifted her weight to her back foot and brought her Herald of Woe to her shoulder in preparation for a strike. Her heavy plate grieves crunched dully in the ankle deep snow drifts.
Illuminated by the light of a pregnant harvest moon that filtered through skeletal tree limbs, a misshapen ghoul emerged from the inky darkness. From the gaseous nimbus of pestilence, to its limbs twisted at inhuman angles, it was a horror beyond human reckoning.
A glaze of hoarfrost clung to the bottom edge of her Judgment Crown as her breath misted before it. She was grateful, not for the first time, that her face, and thus her fear, was hidden by the mask. To the world she put forth the façade of a commanding Champion of God… but under the heavy plates of steel she was still the frightened little girl who watched helplessly as her father, the village’s gentle priest, was slaughtered by the undead during the demise of Tarren Mill.
The ghoul took a shambling step towards her and Camille felt her pulse quicken. She began to speak the mantra she had been taught at the Cathedral of Light so many seasons ago.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death…”
The ghoul’s noisome stench got stronger as it closed the gap between them.
“I will fear no evil…”
The ghoul let out a malevolent moan and reached out towards her.
“Exorcismus!” she shouted and thrust a gloved hand at the creature.
A ball of bright yellow ether shot forth and struck the ghoul in the chest. The ghoul stumbled back and struggled to resist the force of the ether expanding within it, wispy light emerged from the ghoul’s empty eye sockets and mouth. Before it could have a chance to recover, Camille brought her hammer about in a heavy arc. The ghoul feebly raised its limbs to deflect the blow but with inexorable force the hammer smashed into the ghoul. It flew back and crashed into the trunk of an ancient oak and then, like a puppeteer cutting the string of her marionette, it collapsed to the ground in a dissembled heap.
Camille let out a sigh of relief and dropped to one knee. She removed her helm and set it in the powdery snow beside her. Clasping her hands before her chest she began to pray for the soul of the person whom, at one time, inhabited the decimated husk before her.

She heard his piercing scream above the incessant moaning of the undead. Quietly and carefully, she opened the door of the closet and peered out from the shadows. Silhouetted by the dim light from the dying embers in the fireplace she saw an otherworldly horror feasting on the stump where her father’s leg should be.
Suddenly, a frozen hand rested on her shoulder. She choked back a howl of terror as she spun to face two beady onyx eyes and a large pink snout…
“Eeek!” she yipped and stumbled to the floor.
Mr. Wiggles, her pet piglet and constant companion, shuffled to the edge of her pallet and squealed as if laughing at her misfortune.
Groaning, she slowly stood and shook the remnants of her recurring night terror away.
She looked at the empty pallet and felt a wave bitterness begin to well up. The demands of service to the Church came with the unforgiving shackles of piety. With the discipline befitting her station she forced it back down.
There were times when she ached to…
But no.
She had pledged her life to His Devine purpose. She would serve Him until every last undead was back in the Twisting nether where it belonged.
She slowly rummaged in her spartan quarters for her gear. As each piece of cold plate was firmly buckled into place, she felt her steely resolve return.
Once completely clad in her garb of Judgment, she stepped into the stark pale morning, ready to face the worst the Scourge could throw at her for at least one more day.



(Wrote this for my paladin, Kitharian.)

The pasture was large, given that it was still within the boundaries of Stormwind. The thick grass indicated it hadn’t been overgrazed by the horses within it, and the trees shading it hadn’t been nibbled on to indicate a lack of foraging. Deep troughs supplied ready water, and a sturdy barn offered protection from the worst of the weather.

Not that it was needed today, though. The sunshine was warm and golden, gilding everything in sight.

Or maybe that was just her own dazzled viewpoint.

Kit stood at the fence next to Lord Grayson, himself as silent as she was, as apparently taken with the scene. None of the horses approached them, and Grayson made no attempt to climb the fence. “Do I just pick one?” she asked. Light, she hoped not. She’d had basic riding lessons in preparation for this day, but she had no more notion what made one horse preferable over another than she understood what would make one hunting hawk more preferable. She was pretty sure she shouldn’t pick one just because it was pretty.

Not that any of them could precisely be called ‘pretty’. Massive, yes. Some had scars from old battles. All had dapples that indicated good food and care. Bay and chestnut, buckskin and palomino, dun and paint, there wasn’t a color palette unrepresented. Nothing to guide her. Nothing to say ‘this is the horse’. Should she ride each one?

“You could,” Grayson allowed, “but unless the steed chooses you back, it will never be a real bond.”

That, to Kit, had the sound of failure. “None of them seem to be choosing anything,” she said, glancing uncertainly at her mentor.

He almost smiled, a relaxation of some of the lines in his face. “Go in,” he said.

“And then?”

“Ask the Light.”

A proper Paladiny response. She set a foot on a rung of the fence and swung her leg over before dropping to the ground. That got the attention of a few of the horses, some of whom meandered out of the shade and walked toward her as she walked toward them. Others just watched, heads up, ears swiveled in her direction.

Somewhere in the middle of the field she stopped. Ask the Light.

It wasn’t that Kit didn’t pray. She did, sometimes explicitly. Sometimes with a wordless plea for aid. But it felt somehow disrespectful to outright ask the Light to find her a horse. After a moment’s indecision, Kit closed her eyes.

She pretended she had just walked into the Cathedral, was embraced by its warm stone and deep peace. Kit never prayed in the Cathedral, she just experienced it. Communed with it, that’s how she thought of it though she never spoke about it.

It was as if everything she was, she kept folded into a ball inside of her and only sometimes, like in the Cathedral, she slowly unfolded it. She felt it spreading inside her, then beyond her. She touched the world, and felt it touch her back, acknowledging her life even as she acknowledged it. They blended, became one spirit, and for a time simply existed in the knowledge of each other.

A soft nose, a whuffle of sweet grass breath brought her back to awareness of herself, of the field. She knew before she opened her eyes what the mare looked like, what color she was, how tall, how dense of bone. She knew the mare had been in battle but never bonded. She knew that the mare remembered the fight and keenly felt the absence of a partner.

As well, she understood the mare knew about her. Her parents, her time at the abbey, her dedication to the Light.

Kit opened her eyes and smiled. “Remembrance,” she said softly, laying a hand on the charger’s neck.

Together, they turned and walked toward the barn to pick out armor, never noticing Grayson Shadowbreaker walking away toward the chapel.


It was dark in the closet, and Ruby knew she had to stay hidden. She was only twelve, and just beginning her study of magic. Although she only knew a few simple spells, like how to gather fire at her fingers and fling it at an enemy, she had never battled anything.

Her parents were in the main room of the two story house, arguing with someone. Ruby could tell from her father’s tone he was very angry. Her mother was silent, but that was not unusual.

When the voices stopped yelling, and peace settled over the house, Ruby felt relief. Yet still a sense of foreboding as she opened the door to the closet and ventured out. Standing at the top of the stairs she called out softly, “Mama? Papa? Is everything alright?”

Silence was all she got in return. Ruby could not make out what the yelling was about other than the word ‘witch’, and vague threats of violence. Most of what she heard was garbled and hard to make out. Fear gripped her as the sound of fighting came from outside the front door. The clash of weapons and the rumble of horses running combined with battleshouts made it clear to her something bad was happening.

There was only one window on the upper floor it might be safe to peer out, she thought. Running to the window she left the thin curtains in place and tried to see through the slight gap without letting anyone outside see her.

Chaos met her gaze, a group of Horde soldiers were attacking the town. The militia were battling them with everything they had. Paladins and farmers alike fought side by side to defend their little hamlet. Wide eyed with fear, Ruby lost her caution and pulled the curtain aside a little to see if she could locate her parents.

To her horror she spotted her mother in the town square, tied to a post and her father beside her laying on the ground, covered in blood. The Horde soldiers seemed to be ignoring them as the militia tried to chase them out of the town. Now it was her turn to be angry. Her mother was a fire mage and had defended the town a few times with her magic. Her father was a seasoned warrior who married her in spite of the misgivings of his family. To have the town turn on them like this was the last straw. Now they would pay the price, as the Horde swept in and over ran the settlement.

Ruby was too young and untrained to do much, but she knew the invaders would search the homes for booty and to take prisoners. She knew she had to flee to save her life. She grabbed what she could of spare clothing and stuffed it into a pillow case. A warm cloak would help and she knew her mother had some supplies in the small kitchen. Ruby had to hurry and she flew from room to room gathering what she needed to survive.

Slipping out the back door and into the woods, Ruby could feel the heat of flames as the Horde set fire to the buildings. She turned one last time to stare as she reached the relative safety of the small hill and the cover of trees. As the town burned she could smell the smoke and the stench of burning flesh. Her eyes grew hard as she heard the final screams of the defenders. The little village was soon wiped from existence and Ruby was now an orphan of the war.

She had no choice now but to make her way to the city of Stormwind. She was young, but knew enough about herbs and alchemy to possibly get work and support herself. She would not forget the harshness of the villagers and their hatred of her mother. They did not care that they left her homeless and without support in this harsh world. It would take a long time for her to learn to trust anyone now.


((As Remembrant said to me ooc, a memorable meeting is worth a small work, or something to that effect. As I told Remembrant, I was stalling, anxious about tanking with my new pally, Kas, but this small, remarkable, unexpected interaction between his Draenai and my wee lass has encouraged me. Thank you Rem for this heart story for me; and thank you to all you RPer’s randomly sharing happiness around Azeroth. Cheers!))

She stumbled thru the echoing halls of Ironforge, dragging her metal shod feet along the stone floor, barely able to keep her sack of raw metal and spider bits on her shoulder and off the ground. Searching Thelgen Rock for incendicite ore had not been as easy as Stonegear had lead her to believe. Bone weary she was, barely able to focus on the walls of the corridor and the people transitting through; she tried to prevent herself from bouncing from passing citizen to wall and back again, with limited success.

She stumbled, stopped, a tall cur was banging at her shins, almost tripping her. She’d failed to see the pup’s eyes glow green, infusing earth and fel spirits into some ore. She slowly focused her eyes and saw a rather large . . . dog? wolf, perhaps?

Who had left such a dangerous animal out unleashed in the halls of Ironforge? She slowly reached her mailed hand out, not fearful of any bite, and gently patted the canine, searching its neck for a collar. “Nice doggie?”

The wolf extended a paw out, pads upward, and Kas detected a gleam of rock in its paw. “Ah, did ya get a pebble stuck in your paw? Here let me get that out for you.” The wolf, as though understanding, sat, allowing the dwarf to work at the gem.

Suddenly, the wolf form shimmered into that of a Draenai male. In her addled state with slow reflexes and saturated headspace, Kas barely reacted. “Oh. You’re not a dog. Beg pardon.”

“Is seldom what it seems in Outland.” he replied, smiling, still holding a sparkling green gem in the palm of his hand, extended, offering. “I am proud to adorn our heroes equipment with my work.”

“Why, thank you,” she said taking and admiring the facetted gem. “I will try to be worthy.”

“You will be. Is seeing. Naaru will guide you as is meant to be.” He waved farewell, his exit line, “I must be helpings elsewhere.”

She hadn’t caught his name, but she had been reenergized. Kas ran out into the courtyard before the bank, “For the Alliance!”, she cheered.

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