Storyes welcomed!

Sit with us friend..share a cup with us and tell your tale. We are just some adventures, travelers around the world..you need not to be scared, no need to feel unwelcomed. We have seen much, but not enough..We have gone trough Azeroth, visited unimaginable places.. We have found treasures, we have found enemyes and new friends.. Yet the thirst for more always remains. We are just like you, people who yearn for new experiences..
So tell us your tale..and we'll share ours with you.

... I was about to see how pro writers everyone else are before posting this but since no one seems to be posting I'll do it then. I'm not a writer and if this is terrible just say so. xD

-

Silka walked by herself along the shady streets of Undercity.

"It's been a while", she thought while glancing around and noting that the city hasn't changed at all during the time she had been away.

The same couldn't be said about herself, though. At the last time she had left the city, she had been newly turned and almost completely clueless. Thinking afterwards, such a stunt had been extremely stupid. But she was still 'alive'. And back here.

Her bag was full of gold she had gotten for reward from here and there. Its' amount was already making her walking somewhat unstable. She decided to stop at the bank first, located in the middle of the city and leave most of her burden there.

After the banker, William Montaque had given her much lighter bag back to her, Silka had nodded politely as thanks at him and already turned to leave, she quietly snorted to herself. She had come from a poor family. Even one single gold coin had been a lot of money for them. Now she had more of those before so precious coins she was able to spent. ...or probably would be ever able to spent.

Wherever Silka had went after leaving Tirisfal Glades for the first time, there had been war raging everywhere. There had always been someone in need of help and who was ready to pay for work. It had suited her purposes better than well. She had been ready to travel to the ends of the world and such a long journey required lots of gold.

"Where the fel has that idiot gone..?" she quietly muttered to herself while making her way through the war quarter and towards the apotecharium.

Silka had turned most of the Eastern Kingdoms, Outland and Northrend upside down while searching for him, without finding even the smallest clue. Lately the hopelessness inside her had started to grow nearly unbearable, but still she stubbornly suppressed it while forcing herself to go on.

"He's alive until proven otherwise", she thought. "And I'll find him."

Silka quickly became more aware of her surroundings while passing a long row of training dummies. She stopped and stared at them grimly.

'Apparently you're not just any priest', they had said. 'You're proving to be quite skilled', they had said. 'You've got talent', they had said.

Silka knew pretty damn well it wasn't because of talent. It was because of obsession. Suddenly she felt a terrible rage flaring up inside her. She hissed one spell right after another and tossed fiercely night black shadows and purple fog-like swirls towards the dummies.

Previously she hadn't been able to break even one dummy. Now all of them were blown to pieces or melted into a black, smoking stump in a single hit.

"Until proven otherwise", she muttered quietly while still manicly staring at the havoc in front of her.

Silka flinched when suddenly heard footsteps and some metal armor rattling nearby. She quickly sneaked to the apotecharium, away from the sound, carefully glancing back for a couple of times, making sure no one was following her. The least she wanted to do right now was cleaning up the mess, despite of it being made by her.

She bought a pile of scrolls, a couple of bottles of ink and a new quill, the things she had come here for and returned to the city center. While Silka was about to head back out, she couldn't ignore a huge notice board near the entrance.

"All able-bodied members of the Horde are hereby ordered to report to Emissary Windsong at Nighthaven in Moonglade.

Our brothers in the Cenarion Circle report that Deathwing's minions have launched a destructive offensive against the world tree and threaten to burn it to the ground!

Speak with Cenarion Emissary Blackhoof to gain entry into Moonglade. Blackhoof is located at the tauren district in the Valley of Wisdom in Orgrimmar.

Onward, sister! Destiny calls!"

Silka was scratching her chin absent-mindedly with her claw while finishing reading the notification.

"Orgrimmar...", she thought. "That's in Kalimdor. I haven't searched from there yet."

She was still standing there, thinking, when a couple of Kor'kron elites appeared from a doorway below her leading to the canals.

"You sure there was no one around?" another one asked, sounding sceptical. "I mean, this isn't a very inhabitated city. I'd understand you didn't see anything if this was a large city with lots of people, but this is... a half-empty crypt."

"When I say I saw no one, I mean it", the other one answered, sounding a bit offended. "There was just a fel of a smoking mess."

"Forsaken don't sleep, but there's still not too many around at this hour", the first one stated. "I'll question the first walking corpse we meet. They must learn that amongst the Horde they're not allowed to do whatever they want and get away with it."

Silka froze to her spot, alarmedly glanced which door was closer and sprinted towards it. However, just before the corner she slowed down back to walk and, while trying to look respected and calm, marched past the couple of other Kor'krons guarding the door. After getting past the elevator and the final pair of guards above it, she mounted her warhorse she had left outside.

"Orgrimmar, eh?" she thought while grinning slyly, riding out from the ruins and towards the zeppelin towers near Brill.

So here's a little something I put together. A glipse into Waljek's past, if nothing else.

-

It was raining in the Ghostlands.

The damn Amani had him backed up against a wall. Three of them, big brutes, almost as big as him. His swords lay mere meters away, but he had no way of getting to them. The opponents where clad in ceremonial garbs, flimsy at best, absolutely useless at worst. He wore heavy battleplate.

Maybe he could take them on unarmed, his armor should give him the upper hand, even though they carried their bone-blades. It didn't matter, there was at least a dozen more of them advancing down the corridor formed by the surrounding ruins. There was no way he'd be able to make a break for it. Even if he could outrun them, this was their territory, they'd find him before he got away.

"Trapped" Waljek thought, "just as planned."

The Amani spoke among themselves in their crude war cant. Waljek couldn't understand them, but the subject was simple enough to follow. He'd killed four of them, now they'd make an example of him. Probably sacrifice him or just bleed him for fun, they to things like that.

Just as the first of them approached him, still wary, but confident, Kuntirari burst from his hidingplace in an alcove that the larger Amani group had just passed. Fire and lightning were his heralds as the shaman tore into them, the rain evaporating all around him as he unleashed yet more of his power. They reacted quickly enough, and it was still a two versus twelve fight.

"Not great odds, but that's about to change."

One of the closest Amani made a gurgling sound and dropped, a small blade, clearly made for throwing, portruding from his throat. The blood had just begun pooling around the corpse when his companions took note. By then it was too late. Vaniel, moving like mercury, was already on one of them, daggers flashing in a deadly display of skill.

Waljek lunged at the last remaining Amani troll blocking his path to where his swords had fallen. A savage blow to the jaw, followed by an elbow in the gut dropped him, if only for long enough for Waljek to slip past and scoop up his swords.

With the two opponents dispatched by Vaniel, and another two by Kuntirari, it was now the three of them against eight Amani forest trolls. Blades clashed and blood was drawn by all sides by now, most combatants having suffered at least minor injuries. The Amani seemed confident now though, the trap had been sprung and had claimed four of their brothers, but now ther were back in control, and they still had the upper hand.

A lull in the fighting saw both sides back away from eachother. The rain was pouring down now, and a roll of thunder could be heard in the distance.
The three friends exchange knowing glances, and as if by some unseen signal, they charged straight toward the mob of Amani trolls. Caught off guard by such a bold move, but hardly deterred, the Amani began their own charge.

"And that's it, game over."

The rearmost troll cried out as his legs were separated from the rest of his body just below the hips. Suddely beset by yet another foe, the Amani charge lost its momentum, and crumbled utterly as Möré Silverclaw, Vaniel's half brother, a paladin of Silvermoon, crashed into their rearguard. Clad in a impractical but intimidating warplate, wielding a mace of monsterous proportions and eyes alight with holy power, his arrival tipped the scales. The Amani morale broken, the surviving five scattred into the rain.

"Pointless ta follo' 'em." Kuntirari stated flatly.

"Everyone alright?" Waljek surveyed the now gathered party.

Vaniel shot him a playful glare. "Doubting our abilities, Wall?"

"Never, but one of these bastards might get a lucky hit one day."

Möré took a step forward. "Did they know anything? Are we any closer to finding them yet?"

"Nope, they don't seem to know anything." Waljek shrugged. "I think our best bet is "asking" the Blackrock Clan, ye?"

The others nodded in agreement.

"We bettah get a goin' den. Di Amani be on dere way back soon, an' dere's gonna be a lot o' dem dis time." Kuntirari noted with a slight frown.

"Agreed, let's go, away from this blasted rain." Möré grunted and started making his way back up the slope from where he'd come.

They set off, bound south, to Blackrock Mountain, and whatever secrets it may still hold.

-

A little story I decided to put down!




Aki finally finished his trials back in the jungle; he came out of the harsh environment back onto normal landscape. He fell on his knees while having a coughing fit. His body was covered in cuts and mud, a mixture of blood all over his wounds. He looked up at the sky, the sky looked so bright and he could see the sun instead of trees clouding his vision.

“I be home.”

Aki got up on his feet and walked towards the nearby camp, he stumbled now and then as he walked, feeling weak and thirsty from all of the traveling. He collapsed as he reached the encampment.

“He made it.”

The Zandalari elder said as he walked over to the young troll’s body, examining it.

“He be looking staved.”

One of the Zandalari tribesman said to the elder, the elder gave a nod and muttered some words in Zandali tongue, healing the young troll’s wounds. After a moment Aki’s cuts and marks all fade away in an instant by the elder’s healing ability.

“E-Eh...”

Aki said as he opened his eyes, looking around. The elder looked down at him and smiled, holding a bowl of water towards Aki.

“Drink young one, you’ve passed the test.”

Aki drank the water like no tomorrow; he took the bowl and turned it up, all the water going into his mouth. He looked so thirsty; the elder smiled and stepped back.

“From this day forward young one, you have passed the Trials of the Zandalari.”

The Elder took his hand out to Aki once he had finished the water; Aki grabbed the hand and lifted himself up off the ground.

“You’ve done your tribe well, young one.” The elder smiled at Aki and shook his hand. “I couldn’t of done it without me mentor though, she taught me lots mon.” Aki said with a smile. “Ah yes, she be coming here in a moment I believe.” The elder gave a solid nod, giving the hand a final shake before moving back away.

The woman they spoke of walked into the hut. Her long red hair and tribal armour covered in skulls of her victims. She ran her hand across her hair to remove some locks in front of her eyes.

“Ya passed it den.”

She smirked at Aki and gave his arm a little smack. “Course I did!” Aki cheered with a proud smile on his face. She folded her arms and looked at him, eyeing his restored body.”

“I know what ya be lacking…Armour.”

Aki blinked his eyes and looked down at himself; only wearing a loincloth he didn’t look protected. “I suppose ya right...”


“Don’t worry, ya passed da test so ya get ya own special starter armor, come let’s go get ya it.”

The mentor said as she walked off, Aki following not far behind as they both went back to their camp. She had prepared a little feast for Aki and some armour, the armour had no skulls. He had to earn his own skulls; it was a dark brown set which looked like it was made from wood. She went to her storage box and picked out a sword and shield, passing them to Aki, “Take dis.” She passed the weapons to Aki; he then put the shield on his back after getting into his brown suited armour. He gave the sword a swing and began testing it out; the mentor then got her own sword out and smacked it hard against Aki’s sword.

“Dun get careless Aki, if ya swing like a fool ya can lose ya head.”

“I’ll bear dat in mind….”



That’s all for now! Just one of the stories Aki had with his Mentor ^^

I threw this together a while after making Nathen, I was thinking I would go for something of a brave and adventurous little Goblin, While still being a Goblin, Anyway, Hope you enjoy (:

Nathen and Tails Sat atop a mountain overlooking Daranius Co. Nathen said to Tails 'I dont want to get pulled into this Idiotic Trading shit, I mean, I know im a Goblin, but it just isnt me Tails.' Nathen let out a drawn out sigh while looking down at the Company's main building, Nathen lifted his Head to Tails, 'If I am to Become a Trader, then I must use this Time wisely, Tails, We are going to explore the Forbiden 'Caverns of Time'...' Tails peered at Nathen in Shock he would even consider such...But without hesitation, as soon as Nathen got up, Tails sticks to his side...

When Nathen and Tails Arrived at the Deep and ominous Cavern, Nathen took in a Breath of fresh air, 'Smell that Tails? Thats the smell of Soon to be accomplishment!' Tails looked at Him blankly, Nathen knew what he was thinking, 'Tails I have to do this, Think about what people would think if we entered and came out alive! We would be the Fame of Gadgetzan!' Tails flew himself into the cavern, Then flew back out as he got five feet in, looking to Nathen expectantly...Nathen looked at Him grinning with a Sarcastic look on his face, he lets forth a sharp whistle as he Enters the cavern, lifting a Torch high above his head as Tails follows him in...

'Here we are! The Legendary Caverns Of time...Isnt this getting you hyped!' Looks to Tails Smiling with an open jaw. Tails frowns at Him dissapointedly. 'Come on we'll be back before anyone finds out.' As Nathen and Tails ventured on through the Caverns, They came across A house on a rock, Nathen reluctantly said 'That is so...Cool! We gotta investigate it!' Tails Lets out a high-pitched Sigh as he follows Nathen to the houses Door...

Nathen looked at the door raising one eyebrow. 'This door is made out of Felling Leather...That is awesome.' Nathen knocks on the door, No sounds are heard 'How stupid of me...' Nathen lifts his gun, firing through the leather, then lowering the gun looking to Tails, Smirking, he Looks back at the leather door, Drawing his knife as he sticks it through, Tearing the rest of the Leather up to Create a Hole big enough to fit A Tauren. Nathen peers inside, 'Its just a Regular ol' house...' Nathen walks further in with small steps, peering around once more...'I dont see why this is in the Caverns of Time, it has no attachment to it...'All of a sudden A bang sound is heard, almost like an Ogre running at you. Nathen turned, readying his Gun at the door...*Low voice* 'The feck was that...?'........ WACK!'Uugh...'


Sorry to find out more about the story you gotta Ask him, Hope you enjoyed the Majority of it though, Thanks for reading!

Varrg was staring out of window at landscape lashed by hard rain and sighed. No new assignments or commands for days. The fel was this? After the Lich King's fall his life had become somewhat boring, although there was still a lot of filth to kill in Icecrown.

Varrg turned away from window and walked around the room for a moment. Flames were crackling in the fireplace, but they didn't warm him up at all. Varrg cursed silently to himself. Maybe he should take some distance into Northrend for a moment and start to work also for the peabrain Hellscream. Then he at least wouldn't need to sit around while doing nothing.

Suddenly someone knocked the door. Varrg glanced outside again. It was still bucketing down.

"Who the cursed at this time of night and in this downpour?" he was wondering to himself while walking towards the door and grabbed his runeblade that had been leaning against the fireplace with him. His home was an old manor and from the "nearest" windows to the door he could only see a dark, hooded shape through the rain. Well, if this stranger was looking for troubles, he had definitely come to the right forsaken.

Varrg pulled the door open while holding his blade partly raised for striking, but he lowered it immediately after recognizing who the comer was.

"You", he stated while frowning and also somewhat amused.

Silka was standing in front of the door while looking particularly miserable. Her soaked cloak and robe were dripping water to ground while more was raining on her. The girl had pulled her hood so low that only her chin was visible.

"I need help", she said and raised her head so that she was able to look at Varrg in the eye. Silka's eyes were clearly more dim than usually and she seemed to be so exhausted that Varrg was surprised she hadn't collapsed already.

"Not mine, whelp", Varrg snapped and started to close the door.

"No! Wait!" Silka shrieked, dashed forward and let out a wimper when her feet got stuck between the frame and the door that Varrg was now pulling back shut with full force.

Varrg stared at the girl, irritated.

"Remove your wet mitt from my hallway, priest", he stated rudely without loosening his grip from the door. Silka couldn't have gotten her foot free although she would've tried.

"I need a death knight!" Silka hissed now with both feet and also her both hands between the door. "A powerful one! Who knows a lot about frostbrood!"

Varrg opened the door slowly while staring at the priest incredulously.

"What have you messed up this time?" he asked.

"It's just at the border of the forest", Silka answered while wincing at the question.

Varrg took his own hooded cloak from the nearby rack, stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind them. They were half running towards the nearby forest. Varrg was taking long, fast steps and Silka tried to keep up.

"I truly appreciate this, mister Varrg", he heard Silka partly yelling over the noise of the rain behind him. "I'm in your debt forever. Without you I would be -"

"Even more in trouble than you already are", Varrg finished her sentence, annoyed.

When they reached the forest, Varrg noticed something enormous moving behind the foremost trees. There was a small, open area near the forest's border, and when they arrived to it, Varrg saw what that huge thing had been.

A furious looking frostbrood drake was staring at the two forsakens like wanting to rip them into pieces, but still it didn't even budge from the spot it was standing on. Around its' neck could be seen a faint glow, and as Varrg peered it more carefully, he recongized it as a somewhat weak shackle spell that was barely sustained.

Varrg turned to look at the priest, who was observing the dragon tiredly and let out a deep sigh.

"Is it yours?" Varrg asked.

"...kind of", Silka answered without turning her gaze from the dragon.

"What's that supposed to mean, girl?" Varrg snapped. "What is it doing here? It has a shackle spell on it. Was it you who captured it?"

"Technically not", Silka noted, still avoiding eye contact.

"You're not answering any of my questions, priest!" Varrg snarled. Did she have to be so felling cryptic all the time?

Silka was a bit startled of his tone, but then sighed again and told briefly what had happened in Icecrown less than a day ago. The more she told the more Varrg was shaking his head.

"What kind of foolhardy morons travel to Icecrown specifically to fight and capture a frostbrood drake?" he asked while frowning after Silka had finished her story to the point she had come to see him. "The remaining Scourge may be without their king now but they still shouldn't be underestimated."

"I didn't! It wasn't my idea!" Silka defended herself, sounding offended. "I was partly forced to!"

"No one forces a forsaken into anything", Varrg noted while growling a bit. "Learn to say 'no', whelp, or you will end up even more dead than you already are."

"I'm saying 'no' all the time", Silka mumbled and was staring at the ground now.

"Apparently not enough", Varrg snorted and turned back to the dragon again. "Did you say that this one almost killed you and the troll?"

"...yes?" Silka said somewhat carefully, like foreseeing an unpleasant answer coming.

"Some battle training could be useful for you both", Varrg continued. "This one is far from the strongest end. Because of the same reason it hasn't broken free so far."

Silka didn't say a word but Varrg still felt her gaze in his back.

"A mighty creature like this is a huge burden for a novice like yourself. Why won't you just set it free?"

Varrg turned back to Silka, waiting for an answer. For a moment they were just staring at each other in silence.

"It almost killed me and one of my... most reliable companions. Amongst other things", Silka answered finally. "It would be a waste to let it go."

Varrg was observing the girl for a moment with narrowed eyes.

"...Interesting", he stated while grinning some and then turned his back at her again.

"And how about you?" Silka asked, now sounding clearly irritated. "Have you rubbed it in enough? Are you going to help me or not?"

Varrg uttered a short, dry laughter.

"Of course I'm going to help", he answered without looking at the girl. "Just a mere thought of a klutz like you walking under the banner of the Forsaken makes me want to puke. Would be twice as bad to let you fly around on an uncontrollable Scourge remnant, wreak havoc and let the whole world know about you. Something needs to be done."

Silka remained silent, but Varrg knew very well what she was doing and thinking.

"Stop looking so grumpy", he stated at her while eyeing up the dragon carefully. "This is a perfect chance for you to learn to be less miserable."

A deep silence again.

"And stop glaring at me behind my back, priest."

This is a story i made not to long ago, I guess you all know who this is and yes this is his past.
Enjoy

The sound of clashing swords is heard across the battlefield. Jonathan Hendric Fenrox looks down on his chest and swears, he grabs the sword in his stomach and pulls it out. He slowly gets up and screams out in anger as he charges one of the followers of Archimonde.
Jonathan fights follower after follower. As he fights a member of the Cult of the Damned, he sees a massive green bolt fly towards him, both him and the member of the cult gets hit and it sends them flying across the field of battle. Jonathan lands, and finds himself unable to move, he tries to look around him, but all he can do is watch as Archimonde walks up to the tree he swore to protect. A tear falls down his cheek as he prays for forgivness from his love, from his child, from his commander. He feels something grab his ankle, it's the member of the Cult of the Damned that smirks at him as he begin to glow and his body starts to dissolve into thin air. Jonathan screams in pain as he can see his body slowly disappearing infront of his eyes. He hears a loud horn, and the last thing he sees in his pain before his body disappears, is the spirits of the nature fly towards Archimonde. He smiles and accepts his death.

Jonathan wakes up, he looks around and sees darkness. He can't feel his body, he feels empty.
He hears a loud laugh as he suddenly sees the scourge around him. He tries to push himself up from the ground and notices his own hands and screams. All he can see instead of his normal hands, are bones. He hears a voice in his head, "Wake up servents you have work to do". His body moves on it's own as it gets up, he feels fear running down his spine as he can't control his body. He joins a line of dead, and all he waits for now is a new order.
"Go and lay waste to the town, kill everyone!". Jonathan lifts his hand and roars a battle cry like many around him. He looks around as they all start to walk, where they are heading to he doesn't know, all he knows is that he needs to kill.

Jonathan and the scourge slays everything in their way. He's feeling sick from all the blood. He keeps on killing, feeling like he knows those he kills. He laughs as his sword stabs those around him. He rushes to a house that he seems to remember from somewhere, he slams the door open and notices a woman and a child crying in the corner. He walks up to them, opening his mouth like he wants to say something, but all that is heard is a laugh. He lifts his sword and kills them as tears starts to fall from his eyes. He looks at the dead bodies and says, "Jack...Marie...why..".
Jonathan leaves the battle in the town, he tries to flee from his thoughts, flee from his urge to scream. He's feeling ill. Then all of a sudden a voice speaks to him, "This is the pain of an undead...this is what we do to serve our master". He peers around, trying to find the one talking, "I am... a part of you now... Jonathan... when I sacrificed myself to kill ... you... our minds and souls became one." Jonathan screams out and falls to his knees. He feels his body, the pain he holds within. He gets up and glares at the town as he yells, "Damn you... Damn you all!", then starts running away from there.
Days goes by as Jonathan walks across the lands. He holds his body hidden from those he meets along the way. The voice in his head is telling him to go back to follow the orders of the master.
He finds himself outside the ruins of Lordaeron. He looks at the walls of the ruins before he enters. He can sense the pain and the death in there. The voice in his head is quiet. He walks around in the ruins and suddenly feels the urge to vomit but he can't. Jonathan rushes out of the ruins, runs up a hill nearby and lets out a loud scream.
For weeks he walks. He speaks more often with the voice in his head now. He learns the name of it, "Call me... Xorax", was all the voice said when Jonathan asked.
After months of walking, Jonathan again finds himself outside of the ruins of Lordaeron. He sits outside the ruins as he suddenly hears something. The sound of feets marching, he gets up and quickly hides behind a tree as he sees an army of undead walk along the road.
"Those... are not part... of the master", Xorax tells him. Jonathan growls to himself, he can feel something within him before he blacks out. When he opens his eyes again and gets his mind back togheter, he finds himself in darkness. He tries to get up as he bumps his head on something. He tries to move but he can't, he uses his hands to feel around him, trying to find out what it is that he is stuck in. Xorax mutters inside the mind, "I shouldn't... have attacked... I shouldn't have risked... it".
Days goes by as Jonathan lies in the darkness. Xorax shares his thoughts with Jonathan, telling him that they seem to be in a coffin underground. Jonathan and Xorax talks for a long time, they make a deal during their time in the coffin. "Use... my powers to your wish Jonathan... but... never forget what I gave, for you to surive... may your life in death be long... my friend. ". That was the last words of Xorax. Jonathan begins to feel lonely. He slams on the lid of the coffin, he screams out as his hands glows green and with a loud bang, the top of the coffin flies off.
He sits up and looks around, finding himself in a graveyard. He tries to speak to Xorax but remembers that he's gone, all that is left is the power Xorax left for him.
Jonathan gets up from the coffin and notices the back of an undead man. He walks up to him as the man turns around and bows. "Greetings forsaken, I'm Undertaker Mordo. You are to serve the Dark Lady, you're a Forsaken. Do you understand?". Jonathan nods. "Good, now state your name and let's get you off to work.". Jonathan gives Mordo a thoughtfull look. He opens his mouth and says, "I'm... Jon... no, I am... Xorax Fenrox... and I sserve the Dark Lady... I am... Forssaken."

The rest is as always history.