Weekly Writing Prompt - EDC (updated 9/6/22)

Howdy,

Greetings from a meager group of Roleplayers from Emerald Dream!

We have been doing a Weekly Writing Prompt in our community discord, and have decided to open that up here.

Each Tuesday we post a new prompt, I will try and post them here!

Prompt 3:

You are out on your travels, it is late in the evening, the sun is beginning to set. The night chill begins to embrace you. You pull out a blanket from your pack, and wrap it around yourself tightly.

As you head down the path, towards your destination, you see lamp light approaching. Its an older woman, she shivers in the night chill.

“I will give you copper piece for your blanket.” She says as you pass, her accent thick Drustvar. “But don’t think me cheap
 if you flip it, it will show your deepest desire or that which you fear most
 but only once.”

You can choose to accept her offer and give her your blanket.
If you do and flip the coin she offers, flip a coin IRL

If you get heads:
You see that which your character desires most, what they love. The image is vivid, and feels real to them, joy rushes over them just before the vision fades.

If you get tails:
You see what your character fears the most. It becomes true to them, and as they feel the fear and dread grip over them, the vision fades.

If you try to flip the coin again, nothing happens.

–

This is the first prompt
 and what everyone below is writing to:

Prompt 2:

Your character has just walked in to a tavern.

The bar is sparse, except for one crowd, surrounding a table, and a bartender trying his best to watch from behind the counter.

The crowd is very loud, about twenty or so people.
As you get closer, you see that they are watching a card game, and that only two players are left and they have both went all in.
The middle of the table has a large pile of gold, gems, and other valuable objects, the pot. Looks like they have been playing for quite awhile.
They each go to turn over their final hands
 and
 they both have the exact same cards


“CHEATER!!!” someone cries out, and the bar erupts in to a fight.

What do you do?
(feel free to finish the story, or just write how your character would react.)

If you’re interested in joining our discord:
emeralddream.carrd.co

It’s a server intended for Emerald Dream players, but open to anyone to come check out!

12 Likes

Kyla, huntress and tamer of beasts, saunters into the tavern, noticing a large crowd gathered around one of the tables.
She smirks as she thinks to herself, “Another fool about to lose his shirt.”
Settling onto the barstool furthest from the crowd, she raises up her left forefinger to the barkeep who is idly wiping down the various neatly placed bottles of wine and liquor on the lacquered wooden shelves behind the bar.
“What’s yer pleasure today, eh?” he asks Kyla, who is now slowly removing her worn leather gloves.
“Surprise me, bud,” Kyla returns.
Three quarters of the way through her drink, a voice breaks the soft murmur of the crowd, “Cheater!” and all hell breaks loose. Kyla’s first reaction is the reach for her belt knife, but slowly returns it to its sheath.
“Nope, not this time,” she mumbles as she lets out a bit of a chuckle.
Coins, trinkets, baubles and cards go flying, along with several of the onlookers. Amused, Kyla finishes her drink, signaling for another.
“Hey bud, you didn’t tell me there’d be entertainment today,” letting out another chuckle. She then swings her barstool around to take in the spectacle as she coolly sips at her drink, handily catching and pocketing several flying coins and trinkets.

11 Likes

Sabata, in his crow form, eyes the inside of the bar, perched from a window sill.

The pile of gold and gems sparkle in the candlelight, it entrances him.

He moves inside, and lands on one of the rafters above the table below.

"CHEATER!" is shouted and the table with all of the shinies go flying


He swoops in to the fray, looping a necklace around his neck and catching a green gem in his beak, before flying out of the bar door. Narrowly missing the brawlers.

10 Likes

Kerrie eyes the entrance to the bar wearily. She can hear the gambler’s from outside, sounds like the game is at least interesting. The rain is coming down in sheets and the wind is picking up.
“If only this wasn’t the only place open in this one horse town,” she mumbles to herself. She wades across the wet ally, pretending to stumble a bit to cover a quick glance behind her, to ensure she isn’t being followed.
The hazy, smoke filled bar was a comfort for the weary night elf. The road had been long and the journey was not complete.

She eyed the table where the patrons were playing cards, rather a nice take to the winner. She makes her way to the bar and waves for a drink, placing some coins in a neat stack beside her mug. Her second mug was better than the first, and she was just starting to feel a little relaxed when the shouts of “Cheater” rang through the bar.

She closed her eyes and sighed.

The barkeep was tense and frightened, he wasn’t a burly man and didn’t look like much of a fighter. The punches were being landed, cards were flying, and the curses were loud. The table was then launched into the air, along with the pot, sending coins, jewelry, and gems flying through the air.

Kerrie dunked at the last minute, landing defensively on the ground. As she looked around to ascertain any immediate threats, something shiny caught her eye. It was a ring, spinning like a top, slowly coming to a halt in front of her. She let out an audible gasp.

She picked it up, searching for the inscription she knew to be there. “Forever and always, Charlie” She blinked back tears, drew her bow, and jumped onto the bar.
She howled like a wolf until all eyes were upon her, the brawl temporarily forgotten. She held up the ring and asked, "Who had this ring? Where did you get it?! Answer me willingly and I may forgive you your trespass, do not and I will leave you in the gutter.”

11 Likes

Zavundre had picked out a booth in the corner of the tavern earlier in the afternoon, after the lunch rush, books under arm and hammer at her hip. She had planned to do some reading during her travels and journal in her adventures and experiences gained for the day. She sat quietly minding her own business as the usual crowd began to start up their gambling games at a large round table a few paces away.

She didn’t mind the idle chatter, it was good background noise as she pored over the books she brought in while waiting for dinner orders to become available with the barmaid. The gambling table swelled and lulled with noise, as each round progressed and the stakes rose higher for the pot in the middle. She casually looked over at one point as she walked to the bar to place a meal order and noted the satchels’ worth of gold and assorted gems in the middle of the table. As she returned to her seat, she paused briefly to see what game they were playing and watched a rather fast round of cards, and in turn surveyed the players themselves; Undead, goblins, orcs, vulpera and trolls, some were clad in leather, others plate, and all eyes swapped to each player as they took their turn to bet or pass.

She returned to her seat, stretched, and opened up her journal and prepared to recount the day and her findings. Not long passed before the barmaid approached with her meal, steaming meat on roast potatoes and a full stein of beer. The thanked the maid politely and paid for the meal and started to eat.

“ALRIGHT, you washed up murlocs. ALL or NOTHING!” She heard a goblin yell at the group. Her eyebrows shot up and she glanced over at the table, having just taken a bite of the tasty meat before her, and idly watched as the vulpera shuffled the deck well and started dealing out the cards. Zavundre smirked, and shook her head as the pot grew larger, the players dumping out small satchels containing coin, gems, jewelry, potions, even a nicely-hilted dagger was thrown on top of the immense pile in the middle.

Zavundre returned to her plate, enjoying the warm meal, and writing another few sentences in her journal. "CHEATER!!!" Came a scream, and an all-out brawl commenced. She lifted up her plate in time for a goblin to have landed on his back on her table where her plate once rested, but her eyes widened as her beer was spilled over the books she brought in. The goblin scrambled for purchase as he was about to rejoin the foray when she grasped him by the back of his neck, and thwacked him hard on his head, rendering him unconscious.
She grabbed her books, now dripping with ale, and shook them off, before stuffing them into the windowsill where she had hoped they would be safe.

She turned towards the group, tightening her gauntlets on her hands and smiled. “May the light guide me, and have mercy on them.” She said to nobody in particular, and advanced onto the group. Golden wings began to shimmer at her back, and a golden crown gently hovered above her head as she went in to sort this matter out


12 Likes

She might have simply turned around and gone right back out the door, but it had been a while since Rose had seen a good bar fight. Not to mention that her current assignment involved keeping an eye on one of those now caught up in the mayhem.

She made her way to the bar through the throng of punches, kicks, and thrown objects, her eyes continuing to follow the exploits of her target. They were a member of the Syndicate, and it had been some time since they’d shown up within the Eastern Kingdoms. While Lord Ravenholdt held no allegiances to either the Horde or Alliance, several people within those factions were tied to the Assassin’s League–much like herself.

Both factions had their own worries and concerns which made Ravenholdt one of the few non-aligned leaders who was looking out for the rest of the people who were just trying to live their lives–or for those who had enough money or something of interest to the League to make their concerns worth pursuing.

Settling on one of the remaining barstools that hadn’t been turned into a throwing weapon, she leaned over the bar behind which the bartender was doing their best to avoid glass and other detritus that made their way toward the bar. “Rough crowd,” she yelled over the hubbub.

The bartender simply nodded. It seemed like this wasn’t an everyday occurance, but it wasn’t an unfamiliar one to this establishment either.

A call from the door by a night elf drew her attention from the conversation for a moment, but it was hard enough to make out other conversation let alone what the elf was saying. The bow pointed inward toward the frey was interesting, though. Interesting enough that Rose decided to join the bartender behind the bar.

Amidst the crashes and bangs, punches thrown and weapons and projectiles, Rose kept an eye on her Syndicate man. Though now she was getting a better look, she’d say it might well have been a good disguise by a woman, too. There was plenty behind the bar counter that caught her attention too–old bottles, keepsakes, a few crates of new stock. There was even a large spear that had clearly seen better days. No
not just a spear–a fishing harpoon.

Glancing at the bartender beside her, she was tempted to ask why they weren’t using it to stop the fight. After all a fishing harpoon would definitely keep trouble at bay
so to speak. Before she could wander too far down that rabbit hole her eye caught movement near the entrance.

Her mark was making their escape. But what had drawn them to this place to begin with? A meet-up? Information? Trading goods?

Slapping the bartender on the shoulder as she made her way to the door in pursuit, she called, “I’ll have to come back when there’s a quiet moment and ask you about that harpoon of yours!”

Through the door and out beyond the fracas, her eyes scanned the road to and from the bar, but her target had already managed to disappear.

With a frustrated sigh, Rose glanced back toward the bar and the fight in progress with longing regret. The League wasn’t going to like this, but she had a sneaking suspicion the reason the fight broke out in the first place had more to do with her Syndicate mark than anything else.

Settling back into the shadows of the stables across the street, she made note of the comings and goings as the fight progressed. The local militia finally made their way over to end the brawl, of course.

Still, 
the bar might not be a bad place to plant roots for a while, especially if the Syndicate were using it for their affairs. She could probably swing that with the League. And the best part? She might get to hear the story of the harpoon behind the bar counter. Even better
she might get to see the owner of the place (likely not the bartender, but who could say?)–use it to quell some unrest.

11 Likes

A Friendship Indeed

As the last dancing flickers of flame gave way to the warm glow of embers in the small fire pit, the weary night elf closed his eyes and began to focus on the hum of the forest. A slight, reverent smile graced his weathered, angular face as the last thought that filled his mind was, “This is home.”

As evening wore on and the moon continued her graceful ascent into the sky, the dusky silhouette of an owl effortlessly glided upon the gentle night breeze. With the dip of a wing, it began its descent into the shimmering leaves of the forest canopy.

Saeledhel Moonshadow’s eyes flicked open, their amber hue piercing the shadowy darkness. The seasoned druid could already make out the flight path of the owl as it silently dipped and darted through the forest. In the blink of an eye, the owl swiftly came to perch upon a branch directly across from the elf. The heat and smoke from the now smoldering campfire gave the owl a shimmering, ethereal appearance. As he watched the graceful movements of the owl, turning its head from side to side, lazily blinking its eyes, surveying the darkness outside the camp, the warmest of feelings welled up inside Saeledhel. The loyalty earned by this oldest of friends is not the only thing the owl brought to the druid this peaceful, moonlit night.

The amber color of Saeledhel’s eyes intensified to a brilliant golden flash as he smiled and nodded toward the majestic owl.

“Sojourn!” The excitement in Saeledhel’s voice was distinguished and genuine.

“What brings you into my camp this night?” The druid asked, a curious undertone to his words.

As the owl began to hoot and whistle its response, Saeledhel quickly brought an index finger to pursed lips beckoning his friend to quiet down. The expression on Saeledhel’s face intensified to one of total concentration as the faintest sounds of distant brawling could be heard.

“It would seem that you’re not the only one Elune wishes me to visit with tonight.” Saeledhel chuckled.

“Sounds like that old, grumpy tavern keeper of a dwarf, Halgruf, has gotten himself into a messy predicament.” Saeledhel’s chuckle turned into a hearty laugh as he considered the possibilities.

Now, you might be wondering why a druid would have any reason to leave the solitude of the forest behind to go help out a grumpy, old dwarf. Normally, if it were anything short of a horde encroachment on the forest, Saeledhel would just ignore it and instead choose to continue catching up with his dear friend Sojourn but not this time.

You see, Halgruf Oakenbough was no ordinary dwarf. He had a soft spot for the forest and the animals that called it home. Why just a year before it was Halgruf who found the handsome owl lying motionless on the forest floor, a crude bola wrapped around its legs and a badly broken wing. The dwarf had no idea that from the dense foliage, a pair of amber eyes was watching him that morning.

Saeledhel had only seen it on that one morning and, it was nothing short of mesmerizing, even to a druid. Somehow, some way, through precise body positioning and controlled, graceful motions of his hands and arms, Halgruf was able to heal the owl’s grievous wounds. It was as if the dwarf was channeling and weaving the life force of the forest itself into healing energy.

“Come. Let us go help our friend.” Saeledhel eagerly shouted to the owl.

“I would feel terrible if a group of misfit, ruffians were to rip Halgruf’s tavern asunder.” Saeledhel’s grin had now turned into a stern line of grit and determination.

“Besides, there’s sure to be some petty thieves and other unsavory fodder to smack around down there.” Saeledhel’s eyes began to flare that intense gold once again.

“At the very least there is certain to be wounds to heal.” He continued.

“And, if I know Halgruf, he’s sure to have some of that tasty dwarven stout he’s so fond of brewing.” The sly grin returned to the druid’s face as Sojourn whistled and hooted his approval.

Saeledhel stamped out the fire, being careful to make sure that no embers had the chance to reignite, then reached for his staff. He turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Sojourn as the owl effortlessly took to the air. Then, in a burst of wispy smoke and a spinning vortex of leaves, Saeledhel took the form of a giant bear. A true guardian of the forest. He turned and barreled down the narrow path that would lead him to Halgruf’s tavern.

11 Likes

Tui was sitting in the corner of the bar, and to other patrons it may have looked like she sat at her table alone. She slurped at the remainder of her jug of Badlands Bourbon, glancing up periodically to nod or scowl at the soul who sat across from her. When in public, she really tried not to speak to her ghosts, but the more she drank, the less she cared. She waved over the troll who manned the bar, signaling for another jug.

The bartender glanced over and shook his head. “Crazy, that one,” he muttered as he wiped rings from mugs left sitting too long on the bar top while keeping up with the orders coming in from the growing crowd. Tui waved to him again. “Hey, bartender! Need another over here!” He filled a jug and sent it along to the counter toward her table. “No time ta come around ta da tables.” He went back to filling mugs that were being pushed at him from across the bar, turning his attention away from Tui and trying to keep an eye on the growing commotion at the center of the room.

“Gotta plan for the long game, ya know” the ghost from across the table spoke toward her as he watched a heated game of cards in the center of the bar.

“Hmph.” Tui took a large gulp of bourbon. “A card shark, are ya?”

“No, no. I’m not talkin’ about cards.” He gestured toward the pile of treasure on the table. “The trinkets!” His ethereal eyes seemed to glimmer.

Tui shook her head, another scowl forming. “Nah, stealing from the living ain’t my shtick.”

“Won’t be living much longer,” the ghost said with a smirk. Just as he spoke, the crowd erupted into chaos as “CHEATER!” was shouted and punches began flying.

Tui grabbed her drink and ducked under the table. Fighting while intoxicated wasn’t her shtick either. Too much risk. She preferred to plan and calculate, ensure that the risk was worth the reward. And amongst this rowdy crowd, it didn’t seem to be. She eyed the path to the exit, trying to formulate an escape through the throng of beer-battling patrons, and just as she saw an opening, an orc that had been front and center in the fight hit the floor like a sack of kajamite. “Long game
” she whispered, taking a final swig of her drink before chucking it across the floor. A smile growing on her lips.

“Aye,” the ghost nodded. “Time to find something to wear to the funeral.”

11 Likes

Wrench enters the tavern laughing at something outside before slamming the door shut loudly. No one seemed to notice – they were too focused on the table. Even the bartender was trying to catch a glimpse at the high stakes game going on.

“Heh
” Wrench said, with a twinkle in his eye. “No one’s lookin’
”

Wrench hopped up on the bar stool and slapped the bartop loudly to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey! Here to fix yer Spectro-flux Discombooster in the back, you sent out a repair notice last week?”

The bartender, barely paying attention, “Yeah, that’s fine whatever, in the back.”

Wrench hopped off the bar and wormed his way through the crowd. A few had their coin purses dangling from their belts and if they were to fall, say if it were cut, they might find themselves landing in a certain green-handed palm.

Finally, he reached the back door and walked right in. The back was a mess – barrels and crates of supplies strewn about with no discernable order. He began walking around, searching. Finally, he found the backroom door and headed for it. Within a minute, he was through the door and in front of the office safe. Another minute, and he was carefully twisting the dial, ears perked for the sound of 
 CLICK.

The small safe opened, revealing several medium-sized pouches of gold coins and several gems. Wrench quickly scooped all of it into his own bag, shut the safe, and made for the door. The heavy thuds of fighting seemed to have broken out and Wrench thought he heard someone yell “CHEATER”, but didn’t pay it much heed.

Just as he shut the door to the office, he heard the sound of the back door opening. He pivoted, making for the maintenance closet. In one fluid motion, he scooped up a grease covered rag on the ground and began rubbing it on his hands absently. Just then, the Bartender from out front came around the corner.

“Hey!” he shouted, “What’re you doing back here?”

Wrench pretended to be startled and turned to look at him, “Eh? I toldja I was comin’ back to look at this mess.”

“Oh,” the Bartender said, clearly uncertian if he recalls the exchange or not, “Of course
 what-how’s it looking?”

Wrench shook his head and tossed the rag back into the closet, looking at what was clearly a water heater, “Let it go any worse and it would’ve been a disaster, but it was just a small disconnect down here at the bottom.” Wrench hunched over semi-dramatically and pointed to a random clump of tangled wires near a box of wobbly gears.

“Well come on out to the front and I’ll getcha your payment.” the Bartender said, clearly buying into the farse. As they exited the backroom, Wrench beheld a sight he hadn’t expected. Where there was once a well-kept tavern parlor, there was now a mess of detritis and destruction. Several of the previous inhabitants, some of whom were the former owners of the coinpurses resting secretly in Wrench’s bag, lay unconscious and scattered throughout the room. Where there were once tables and chairs, was now broken wreckage and splintered wood.

Standing by the exit was a Goblin. Hidden by the shadows, the light of a cigar reflecting off of green-tinted goggles the only thing giving any detail to his features. His gaze was clearly fixed on a hefty sack in his left hand, which his right hand combed through with obvious delight.

Wrench hopped up at the bar after looking around and shook his head. “Must’ve been a big brawl,” he said, turning back from the carnage to look at the bartender. “That fella over there took care of it and took the winnings from the game.” Wrench didn’t look back. He knew who it was.

“Here’s your payment,” the Bartender said, handing Wrench a small bag of coins. “Thanks pal, can give me a call if you need any other servicing.” The statement was said even as he was hopping down and walking away, indicating he didn’t intend to offer to clean up this mess. Without looking back, Wrench headed for the door.

9 Likes

Tmrw is last day!

New Prompt on Tuesday!

3 Likes

Character: Ireadar
Had left the bar before the ENTIRE bar broke out into a brawl and flew back to Druskvar for the night.

(OOC - really like the prompt thing you have, well done, ill be back next time)

4 Likes

(Thanks Lestraud for starting this activity. This was fun. Looking forward to the next one. Peace y’all.)

4 Likes

New Prompt! Didnt want to make a new post since this section of the forums seems to not get much traffic, didnt want to spam it with these prompts.

Prompt 3:

You are out on your travels, it is late in the evening, the sun is beginning to set. The night chill begins to embrace you. You pull out a blanket from your pack, and wrap it around yourself tightly.

As you head down the path, towards your destination, you see lamp light approaching. Its an older woman, she shivers in the night chill.

“I will give you copper piece for your blanket.” She says as you pass, her accent thick Drustvar. “But don’t think me cheap
 if you flip it, it will show your deepest desire or that which you fear most
 but only once.”

You can choose to accept her offer and give her your blanket.
If you do and flip the coin she offers, flip a coin IRL

If you get heads:
You see that which your character desires most, what they love. The image is vivid, and feels real to them, joy rushes over them just before the vision fades.

If you get tails:
You see what your character fears the most. It becomes true to them, and as they feel the fear and dread grip over them, the vision fades.

If you try to flip the coin again, nothing happens.

10 Likes

Giver her the blanket as my own camp is not far. Refuse the coin and say I choose my own fate]

8 Likes

Zavundre paused for a moment on her horse, giving the old woman a thought. She smiled softly, and unwrapped the woolen blanket from her shoulders and handed it down to her. She had hobbled forward and reached feebly for the blanket with one hand, and then pressed said coin into Zavundres’ empty hand. The old woman bowed her head ever so slightly and wrapped the warmed blanket around her own shoulders, a visible shudder as she enjoyed the warmth seeping back into her bones. Zavundre tucked the coin away, and nodded, and gently heeled her horse to continue walking down the path.
She didn’t look back at all, just kept about her journey and thought about what lay ahead. It had been some time, as the moon was near its peak in the sky, where she stopped her horse and dismounted. She led the way off the road a bit into a clearing and decided to make camp for the night. Slipping the latigo from the keeper, she pulled off the saddle of her horse and laid it at the base of a large oak tree, and plopped the saddle blanket on top of that, then leaned over into her saddlebags and dug out the hobbles and placed them on the front feet of her steed. Her horse nickered at her, bending his neck towards her, and she smiled and reached to remove his bridle. She patted him on his thick neck, and gave him a scritch there.
“Alright, there you go now Aranthil.” She chuckled, knowing full well that all he had in mind was food. He immediately began to graze the grass, and she had settled down at her makeshift bed.
She gazed up at the moon once more, its beans filtering through the leaves in the canopy, and she remembered her interaction with the old woman back down the road. She retrieved the so-called special coin, and turned it over in her gloved hand, her brow furrowing as her eyes looked over it. She scoffed quietly, and tested the metal by biting it. “Seems like any old ordinary coin
” She murmured to no one, then recalled what the woman had said about flipping it. She fiddled with it on her thumb, and flipped it, and fumbled with catching it. Tails? What did this mean again?

She heard footsteps and hoofbeats from down the road suddenly, and her hand shot for the hilt of her hammer, cursing herself for letting anyone sneak up on her like this. She was relieved and shocked to see that it was her fellow paladin friend, the one she had a crush on. He was followed by two others, a female paladin and another male, though it appeared they were from another branch of the guard. She stood immediately, joyous to finally have caught up with a familiar face, but then she faltered upon seeing the scowl that replaced the usual soft smile on his features.
“Martan, it’s so good to see you. What ever is the matter?” Zavundre queried, her eyes darting between him and the two that he had in tow. Martan didn’t say anything at first, then huffed a sigh.
“Zavundre, I received your letters and messages of the quest that was beset us, I have been extremely busy as I’ve acquired new relations with our brethren.” He said matter-of-factly. Zavundre noticed the sudden movement of the females’ head, dipping down at the words, her fingers playing at her chainmail. A rock seemed to have settled in Zavundres’ stomach, and seemed to pull downwards, sinking further into her body.
“I believe I shall be working with them wholly, and do not require communications from you.” He continued.
“W-what?” Zavundre choked, confused and hurt, “What exactly do you mean?” She stepped forward, her hands imploring for explanation. She stopped as Martan held his hand up with a stop signal and shook his head.
“What that means is I am permanently joining their chapter, and thus our paths divide from here. I do not require your aid or camaraderie no longer. That is all.” He explained, and then turned to face the other two, and gave them a curt nod. They all turned, and walked back the way they came, but not before Martan had taken up the females hand in his.
Zavundre was in plain shock, she reeled, and slumped back to her former seat at the tree. Her mind worked overtime to make sense of what just happened, her heart crushed, and her stomach now feeling that it’s left her body through her feet.
“I- what?” Zavundre mused, thinking, “I would have received official communications from our chapter that
 no, this doesn’t
” She choked back a sob, and pressed her face into her hands. “None of this makes sense, and who were the other two? Why
” she sobbed quietly, and heard Aranthil hobble over, pushing her shoulder with his velvety muzzle. “Why wouldn’t he still want to remain in contact? Why so sudden? Why no replies to my letters?!” Zavundre full out sobbed, her shoulders shaking and her breaths coming in heaves as her emotions poured out. Her mind began to play cruel words to her.
Now you’re alone in this world. No friend, nothing. Great work, you managed to destroy the one true thing that kept you moving. Failure, waste of time. So worthless, wretched.
She continued to sob, spurred by her own twisted thoughts, clutching Aranthil’s muzzle to her face, his warm breath washing over her face until she calmed down and could cry no more. Aranthil played at her hair with his mouth, then nudged her harder on her shoulder. Something clicked. Zavundre grasped her horses head and stared him in the eye. She frowned.
“Aranthil, did you not notice your friend just came by?” She asked, staring into his brown eye. His ear twitched to and fro once, and he snorted. “Surely you would have thrown a fit for not have seen him in so long, your dear friend? He and Martan were just here, they just walked right up! How did you not–” Then it made sense. She looked about her on the ground, and grabbed the coin and scowled. “You wretched magic!” She growled, and stood, and sought out a large flat rock. She set the coin there in the middle and withdrew her hammer. She gave pause, furious that the magic was so powerful, and in such an unknowing object. “Never again, it ends with me.” She raised her hammer, and with all her might, slammed it down onto the coin. A POP noise was heard, and the coin was only slightly disfigured. She snarled, and invoked her wrath, glittering gold wings appearing at her back and the crown above her head, and raised her hammer once more, now glowing with the divine light. She brought it down, and a PING noise was heard at the coin shattered, and splintered in several directions, leaving only the stone it sat on, completely sundered in two. Zavundre spat, then straightened herself, and returned back to her makeshift camp to turn in for a sleepless night.

8 Likes

Dax ‘the Wrench’, world recognized Engineering Trainer, equal to Hobart Grapplehammer and brother to Didi the Wrench, master inventor and explosives artist, stared at the haggard old woman after she made her proposition. One copper? It felt like some kind of joke. But the tiny voice in his head that retained his compassion spoke up – he called it the “hero’s voice”, because it always urged him to do noble things. Unprofitable, but noble things.

After staring few seconds, he shrugged, “What do I got to lose?”

The old woman offered him the copper with the kind of grin that seemed to answer his rhetorical question. And not in a good way.

He snatched the copper out of the old woman’s hand and handed her the blanket. Wrench thought it was odd that she just held it and didn’t put it around herself. In fact, she didn’t even seem to be cold anymore.

Dax shrugged and figured it was all hocus pocus. He flipped the coin in the air and caught it a second later. He didn’t even look at it before the vision came.

It started dark, like the creeping tendrils of sleep reaching into his mind. It felt like the world he had just known was the dream, as if everything he had done in his life was a mixture of visions and hallucinations and that only now he was waking from it and gaining the awareness of the day.

Before him stood a frumpy Goblin behind the bars of the Bank of Orgrimmar. He had this scowling look on his face that made him look older and uglier than he probably should.

“Dax and Didi, the bank has decided to approve your loan request for a new Engineering shop.” He said in a voice that did not convey the good news that his words seemed to. It was cold, acidy, and it sapped the joy from the sentence that the Wrenches might’ve otherwise felt.

Before the Wrenches could speak another word, there were papers in front of him and pens thrust into their hands. They signed at the X’s, exchanging glances that spoke of untold worry and a general sense of “what are we getting ourselves into?”

They exited the Bank and made their way straight to the building they had just purchased. Dax stopped in his tracks when he saw it. It was on fire. The entire building was burning. The heat from the fire hit him like a wave as the wind buffeted the flames. On the roof was Didi – wait, Didi? – She was just right next to him. What is this?

“Dax!” Didi yelled, “Get me outta here!”

Didi was moving from side to side, trying to find a way to descend off of the roof of the burning building, even as the wood creaked in protest, clearly weakening from the stress of the flames.

“Hang on Didi!” Dax yelled, running towards the building. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The heat from the flames seemed to be getting more intense with every step. It was like being inside Blackrock Mountain! He ran for what felt like minutes, but the building never seemed to get closer. Why wasn’t it getting closer?

“Dax!” Didi yelled. Hearing it, Dax stopped dead in his tracks and looked up. It was just in time to see the roof under her feet give way. The tiles couldn’t handle the stress any longer. Didi’s weight was too much for it. In an instant, she was swallowed up by the building. The act was the last straw for the structure’s stability, and it crumpled inward, toppling into itself in a giant fiery mess.

“DIDI!” Dax yelled, the heat nearly boiling the hot tears leaking down the sides of his face. “No!”

Dax collapsed to his hands and knees and sobbed. In a single moment, all of his dreams were shattered. He lost everything. He sobbed uncontrollably, emotionally recoiling from the terrible loss of not only his sister, but of everything he had ever hoped for or wanted, all in an single instant.

At some point, when he lost track of exactly how long he had been there, he noticed he could no longer feel the heat of the flames. In fact, he was cold.

He opened his eyes and the dirt his hands were in wasn’t the same dirt he put them in. Where once his hands were dug into the dusty sand of Orgrimmar, now it was the lush soil of Stranglethorn.

Stranglethorn. Why was
 he in Stranglethorn?

He looked up and recognized where he was. He was on the trail leading into Booty Bay, where he had met the old woman, who offered him the copper. Now she was gone. Wrench opened his balled up fist and peered at the copper. A flood of emotions washed over him – anger, grief and sadness, then relief. Relief at the realization that what he witnessed was not real.

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Khoshek turned the odd coin in his fingers. The old woman had called it copper, but Khoshek had seen no copper like it before. It gleamed in the fading light, sometimes gold, sometimes blue. Azerite, perhaps?

“Your deepest desire, or that which you fear most,” Khoshek muttered, repeating the woman’s words.

Yesha snorted and stamped her hooves impatiently, breaking Khoshek from his thoughts. He smiled and rubbed her withers.

“It is getting cold,” Khoshek said, and slipped the coin into his purse with one hand as he took Yesha’s reins with the other. “We should find shelter up ahead.”

It was fully dark before they reached the small town, a hamlet of simply thatched structures that seemed crowded intentionally around the largest of them. There was no mistaking that one for the inn. Its windows were alight with a warming glow, and the din of conversation seemed to follow the aromas of warm bread and a hearty stew.

A young boy perched on the hitching post outside the tavern hopped to his feet as Khoshek approached.

“Stable for your horse, mister?” he asked.

Khoshek nodded. “Please. I’ll be by to see her as soon as I’ve made arrangements for myself.”

“Fifty silver’s the payment,” the boy said.

Khoshek thought he sounded almost hesitant, and smiled as he reached into his purse. “And a gold it’ll be–” he paused, looking down at the coins in is hand. There it was, his azerite copper, glimmering in its gold and sapphire hues.

“A gold?” The lad said, eager as any other who could do the math would be.

“A gold.” Khoshek smiled and plucked an appropriate coin from his hand, holding it out for his caretaker. He turned to Yesha. “Be good for him and soon you’ll be warm and fed. I’ll see you soon.”

The horse snorted, and plodded after the child who held her reins. Khoshek returned all but his peculiar coin to his purse. He held the coin between his fingers, peering at it, feeling its pull, testing it.

Without a thought, he tossed the coin into the air and held his hand out flat to catch it. All at once the world shimmered away in the brightest hues of azure light. Khoshek felt the tidal wave of a presence push against him. He fell to one knee and turned his head away.

“Khoshek, the Beloved. Look and see,” a voice commanded. It was a gentle sound, and yet there was no room for choice. Khoshek turned his head upward to it, and gasped. All at once the pressure was gone, the azure light abated, but where the tavern had stood before him


“Light’s mercy,” Khoshek whispered, and his eyes filled with tears.

It was a farmhouse, not unlike those he had seen around the tavern. This one stood some distance from a cliff’s edge, in a clearing surrounded by a dense forest. It was neatly thatched, its walls newly painted and clean. A simple fence of planed driftwood marked the boundary of a garden and a yard, where two young children skipped among the berry bushes.

His children.

Khoshek crumpled to his knees as he wept, the tears hot on his cheeks. “Is it possible?” he cried.

A hand lifted Khoshek’s chin in response. A young woman smiled down at him, as beautiful as he had ever seen. She brought him to his feet, or so it seemed, by her mere touch. Khoshek’s wife pressed herself against him, as he lost himself in her eyes as blue as the banners of Stormwind. She tugged his beard playfully, and kissed him.

Peace unlike any he had known washed over and through him as Khoshek closed his eyes. All around him the world was hidden by brilliant light, purity given form in unrelenting redemption. Khoshek felt the weight of his years fall away, replaced by the certainty of forgiveness and goodness. He was at home, and loved, and a good man before the Light and his beloved.

Khoshek gasped, waking to the cold dark. The sudden weight of his armor pinned him for a dreadful moment, there on the ground before the tavern. Sweat had soaked him in spite of the cold.

He shivered, more from terror than the chill, and he was alone.

The old woman’s voice echoed in his head. “
it will show your deepest desire or that which you fear most
 but only once.” As the words faded, so too did the echoes of the vision. The warmth of his wife, the joy he felt at seeing his children, the certainty he had felt in love; they were all but distant memories.

Memories? No, Khoshek thought. Hopes and dreams. Possibilities.

And what if you gain them only to lose them? He thought as he picked himself up, but it was not his voice within his mind. Khoshek turned back to the forest, his hand reaching instinctively for his sword, but the night was still and calm, and the forest was in no mood to betray its secrets.

Daring only then to wish for his bed and dreamless sleep, Khoshek turned back to the tavern and pushed open the door.

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Doc Snok hands over his blanket for the copper coin. Afterall, a copper is at least 20% of his usual salary with Quickfuse Cartel. Looking at the copper coin, Doc is not sure whether to keep the coin and spend it on some more lab equipment or flip it to obtain a fully functioning lab of his dreams with endless supplies of body parts and potential customers! Doc closes his eyes and flips the coin


Doc opens his eyes and sees a large workshop filled with jars of fluid containing parts from any imaginable creature on Azeroth and quite a few Doc had not seen or imagined before. There are several Snokological Creations ℱ standing ready to do Doc’s bidding. And on the nearest table is an unconscious goblin. The nearest abomination turns to Doc and hands him a scalpel and a standardized medical form showing the customer giving consent for longer legs and arms to reach the top shelves during heists. Doc smiles and a tear forms in his eyes and he sees the goblin also signed the form absolving Doc of any malpractice.

Doc gives the forms back to his “assistant” and prepares to operate. Suddenly, there is a banging at the door to the lab and a splintering of wood. Doc turns to look at what is happening and sees in horror as a multitude of previous “customers” have returned either walking or crawling on whatever appendage Doc had available when their original appendages were replaced. A cacophony of noises emitted from gaping mouths mostly indistinct due to the multitude of “improvements” Doc had performed during prior procedures to ensure any non-disclosure agreements were upheld. The mob rushed and one word was understood in all the deafing vocalizations
“DOC”


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