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Create Your Own Warcraft Lore!

Post by HiVolt

Last week/s challenge is now closed. A new challenge will be posted tomorrow. :D
,,,

Could you please tell me when tomorrow is? :)It's always a day away.

Heh, I haven't been able to think of a challenge...

If anybody has an idea for a challenge, feel free to post it.

Post by 234467

This post was from a user who has deleted their account.

Post by Morec0

Well done.

Post by Skreeran

Indeed it was.

And this is why I do not really pity those Scarlets who find themselves in the the laboratories of the Undercity.

Post by Morec0

This Week's Challenge:

Think you could write Light and Death better? Take a shot! I challenge you to take a page of Wowhead's first (to the best of my knowledge) continuous story and rewrite a sinlge page of it!

You must specify which page you're rewriting.

As always, there are no winners, but I'll say which one I liked best.

Note: Please indicate at the top of the post if you are entering a challenge submission.

Post by lightnstuff

Mind me asking...which post.

Post by Morec0

Mind me asking...which post.

What do you mean?

Post by lightnstuff

Never mind I don't even know.

Post by Neonhyper

Daring me to write L&D better, Morec?

*Brings up Word* *Scans for favorite page*

Post by HiVolt

Thanks for coming up with a challenge, Morec. The OP is updated to reflect it.

Post by Neonhyper

Okay, okay, I was really quick to complete this one because I found the page and I was all jittery and hyper (haha) to complete it. So, yeah, this is for this week's challenge, and if it isn't obvious by the time you start reading, I'm redoing (Hyper-style!) Page 2 of Light and Death.

Which I like to call:

THE SCOURGE STRIKES BACK!

Re-Written Page Two of Light and Death

The sky was streaked dark yellow, orange, and the color of the blood that was shed during the quick, yet painful battle. As the setting sun cast dark shadows over the tainted ground of the Plaguelands, scarlet rivers ran between the bodies of the living that were killed, a heart-wrenching reminder of the lives lost during the defense.

Even though the army of the Scourge seemed to be able to overpower them with the sheer force of their numbers, the Light was watching over the soldiers of Lordaeron. They had been successful at purging the Scourge, and many were dead. Those who were only injured were being aided by the paladins that Morec commanded. The commanding holy warrior stood back with the Captain of the Lordaeron forces, as they discussed the best plans for any upcoming battles.

"We may have stopped the undead from overwhelming us this time, Sir, but we have no chance if they strike again," The Captain began speaking to the paladin, "If the reinforcements you said were coming, don't arrive soon, we're doomed."

"I ask that you remain patient," Morec stated, folding his arms across his chest, "They will arrive in time, and likely before the Scourge attack again."

"Yet time is something you do not have as mortals," Both men turned to see where the sickeningly chilling voice had come from.

Standing atop the dam that separated Darrowmere Lake from their position at Chillwind Point, was a man clad in ghastly decorated robes. His long white beard was the only thing visible on his face, except for the cold, yellow eyes that stared out from underneath a mask made of a human skull. The old age of the figure was evident in his posture.

"Who are you?" Morec demanded, "I can sense the tainted aura that surrounds you!"

The elderly man let out a dark laugh, "My name is Iltheac, paladin. The energy you feel, are the powers granted to me by my King... the powers to control death."

As Morec stepped back, his mind went over the possible things the man meant by 'controlling death'. There was something more to this old man, the way he spoke, the certainty in his voice, what he was clad in, and this 'King'...

"A necromancer!" He exclaimed, turning to yell at the Captain, "Get your able men out there! Burn the corpses, all of them, we can't let him raise--"

"I regret to inform you, that your time is up." Iltheac interrupted.

The necromancer's hands begin to spark with shadows. From his fingertips arced the energy in a wave over the numerous bodies that littered the ground. As the necromantic energy wrapped around the corpses, the Scourge that were defeated once more pushed up from the earth. The dead living began to rot away as Iltheac's spell reached them, until they stood up as undead.

"Go forth, minions of the Scourge. Serve your new master by destroying these living that would dare to defy our power!" Commanded Iltheac, and the newly raised army obeyed and began lumbering towards Chillwind Point.

"Garen, John, at my side!" Morec yelled.

The two paladins were immediately next to their commander, fighting next to him as the Scourge began to descend upon them. Their weapons were guided by the Light as they decimated the lines of undead. Beneath them, the ground was consecrated with the amount of holy energies radiating from their forms as they attempted to push back the corpses.

Their efforts were in vain, and as more warriors joined the fight with the three paladins, they couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the new number of Scourge. Whenever they destroyed one, it seemed like three would take its place immediately. Morec raised his gaze to Iltheac, narrowing his eyes as he watched the necromancer channel more energy into the ground as Scourge pushed through the earth.

"Soldiers! Hold the line! I need to kill that necromancer or we will never make it out of here alive!" Morec commanded.

Garen and John nodded at once, "Yes, Sir!"

The commanding paladin slammed his runed-blade between two of the ghouls approaching him, slicing through them as if they were little more than air. He pushed past the undead, and when they were about to swallow him in their midst, an explosion of Light surrounded him. The Scourge fled from his position, and those that foolishly came after him, he struck down until he had come to the position of Iltheac.

Morec swept his sword to the side, sure of himself that the frail caster would provide little challenge at close range. He was shocked, however, to find that his attack was blocked by a small blade charged with unholy energies. The paladin was about to strike again, but the necromancer blasted him back with a large amount of shadow magics.

He looked up, expecting to find Iltheac waiting for him, but the necromancer was gone. Morec was barely able to dodge the beam of dark energy launched from behind, and when he turned around to face his opponent, the necromancer's blade was shoved into his leg.

As Morec's adrenaline began to pump, he could barely hear the noises coming from behind him. He heard John scream something incoherent and Garen's drowned out cries. The line had been broken, his paladins defeated. If he couldn't act fast, it would be all over for all of them.

The paladin lifted up his blade again, with one hand, but did not strike as the necromancer was expecting. Instead, Morec shot a holy blast at the Scourge-follower, causing the old man to topple over onto his knees. Morec walked up to him, both hands now resting on the hilt of his sword once more with the intent to finish this battle.

When he brought the runic blade down, his attack was parried once again. Morec needed to act fast as he pulled his weapon back, and was about to strike again when he felt something tight gripping around his throat. He dropped his blade and looked down at his neck, a black, ethereal chain was floating around it, and he felt as if he were being chocked.

Morec gripped the chain and sent Light into it, causing it to dissipate with little trouble. He had been distracted though, and didn't notice as the necromancer stood up. The paladin looked up too late as something rammed through his chest, through his heart. His eyes shrunk as he felt his body go cold, and he couldn't feel anything.

He was still conscious, and could see the blood running from his chest. The world around him was fading fast into a messy black, something was caught in his throat that he couldn't push out, and around him were the cries and screams of all the men he had failed. Morec hit the ground with a thud, and as his vision blurred into nothing, the last thing he heard was Iltheac.

"There are many paths to the Scourge," The necromancer hissed in his ear, "This is yours..."

Post by Orranis

Meh, if you copy paste this you'd better stick credit, 'kay?
Page one of Light and Death:

This is the first part of MorecofRivendare's semi-epic, rewritten by Faceshield. Hope you enjoy... I tried to keep it as much in tune with his writing as possible while adding some of my own styles.

Chillwind Point in the Alterac Mountains…

The valley was quiet. Excluding the faint rush of running water in the nearby river, the true noise diluted by the distance, and the occasional chirping of birds, all was silent. Suddenly, the soft 'oomph' like noise of hooves on unpaved earth is heard, getting increasingly loud as it approached.

Three Paladins, evidently marked as such by their gleaming plate armor and aura that seemed to project righteousness, were riding through the mountain pass. They rode in a triangular pattern, and the one leading the other two wore a long tabard, a deep blue adorned by a golden lions head, could be identified as a major commander by the badges he wore on his breastplate.

The Paladins approached a semicircle of dirtied canvas tent around a incredibly large fire pit, where the charred logs and ashes from the night before now cold and insignificant as a faded memory. Many men were laid out on stretchers, crudely bandaged and moaning. You could see blood seeping through some of the bandages, a red stain on their bodies as well as their innocence. Their was also a few that remained upright and standing, presumably healthy, which we're conversing with a captain, presumably receiving orders. The lead Paladin rode slowly over to the captain. The Paladin had pitch-black hair that seemed as if it could rival the void in darkness, with a black beard and a tan of light golden-brown. “Captain,” the Paladin spoke in a monotone voice.

Startled, the Captain turned to face him and then saluted. “Lord Morec!”
“What’s the current status?” the Paladin – William Morec – demanded, though he did not sound angry.
“Not too good, sir” the captain replied. “The Alterac Mountains act as a good buffer between us and the Scourge, but their numbers is still too great. Sir, our troops can’t take many more losses.” Morec motioned to the other Paladins, who quickly dismounted and began to tend to the wounded, using a mixture of Light and first aid kits. “The other generals have ordered more troops here, Captain; they should be arriving within the hour. Until then, we are to hold the undead off.”
“But, sir,” the Captain started, but was interrupted by an approaching scout.
“Sir,” the scout said, gasping for breath, “the Scourge are making another charge!” The Captains face went white with terror, but Morec remained calm as always, taking a few passive seconds to compose a strategy.

“We will hold them off at the dam,” he finally responded. “Captain, gather the troops – all of the troops – we will need them to help hold off this attack.” The captain began to object, but Morec glared at him, his narrowed eyes warning an objection. “Now.” He stated bluntly, showing zero tolerance for discussion. The Captain nodded meekly, and seemed to gulp. "You head the man!" He shouted, and proceeded to shout at them as they scurried and hustled to get into ranks. Morec motioned to his paladins, and they strode to his side. “Garen, John, I need you too move to the back lines for this fight and provide special support to the troops in case the Scourge has any of their Necromancers with them, as they oft do. I will be in the front lines to help hold off the Scourge’s troops hand to hand.”
“Yes, sir,” they replied obediently, and each bringing their war-hammers to their forheads in a salute. Morec brandished his mighty broadsword, etched with holy runes that glow a bright yellow, their light reflected onto the rest of the blade, in the same fashion as a response before striding hastily off.

The other troops had already fallen into formation. Morec scanned the crowd, looking deep into the eyes of each one with unblinking will, void of fear or doubt. But when their eyes met, he saw not the same thing in them. They were frightened, terrified even, fearful of what was to come.
“Warriors of Lordaeron, hear me!” Morec’s voice boomed throughout the valley, and echoed backwards, so that any who had not heard the first time, if it were possible, would surely have. It was a voice that demanded attention, deep and powerful. “Today marks a day of retribution, today marks the day, when we make our defiant stand against the Scourge, no matter how impossible the odds! These are dark times, no doubt! Many of our greatest hero’s have fallen; the crown prince, Arthas Menethil, led the Scourge attack that killed Uther, the Lightbringer himself!” There was a murmur throughout the ranks of the troops. “But,” Morec continued, silencing all such whisperings immediately, “If Lightbringer were here today, if he stood where I stand now, he would say this to you: the Light is the most powerful thing any being can posses! As dark as the dungeon room may be, the light of the candle will always be stronger! With that light, we will make our stand against the Scourge, against the Darkness!”

The soldiers went into a frenzy of excitement, war cries were screamed, each louder than the last, until they all drowned into the hum of righteous knights, on their crusade against the dark forces. However, even these glorious cries were no match for the cries of the injured, for coming over the dam a mass of gray and white bodies, or what was left of bodies anyways, that descended upon the soldiers in a violent storm of sickness and death. "For the Alliance, For Lordaeron, In the name of King Terenas, let us purge these dark monstrosities from the world!"

... And so, the swarm descended, and the battle commenced.

Post by Morec0

Well done so far, with entries like this I'm awaiting more.

Post by Skreeran

An Orc Proper

Nakresh watched the talbuk carefully, making note of their positions and the state of each individual. His small axe felt heavy in his hand, despite it being much lighter than his preferred axe.

He had been following the herd for weeks. He had started in the summer, on the day of his birth, when the days were long and hot. It was night now, though, and he began to long for the comfort of his home.

But he would see his family soon. Right now, he had a task to do.

He had never been properly initiated as an adult. The Horde had cast off such rituals years ago. The orcs were only now beginning to find their old ways. And Nakresh had sworn that he would do as his ancestors did... as his father and mother had done. As his daughter would one day do.

He wore no clothes, besides a simple loin cloth and his Horde tabard. He had been allowed the use of furs and boots, but he had chosen to forsake them. He was strong. He had to prove that he did not need them. He was Ogrefist of the Blackrock clan. He would overcome any challenge.

A strong gust blew across the plains of Nagrand. The orc shivered slightly, but didn't take his eyes off the target. He knew which one he wanted. It was a male, tall and strong, with an azure coat. It's herd grazed nearby.

Finally, Nakresh decided that it was time to strike. He charged forward, swinging his axe in a wide uppercut that caught the beast off guard as it buried itself into the talbuk's ribs. Nakresh shouted with all his might and tore the weapon back out, before firmly planting it in the beast's skull. The kill had not gone unnoticed by the herd. At least a dozen were already near him, snorting and bellowing with alarm.

"Come, beasts!" Nakresh cried, screaming at the top of his powerful orcish lungs. Finally, the herd backed down and retreated, allowing Nakresh to paint his face with the blood of his kill. After he had properly annointed himself, he began to tear at the beast's flesh, satisfying his deep gnawing hunger from days without food. Finally, he had eaten his fill.

Now he had merely to return to Garadar, where his family waited.

I just did this in-game. Figured I should write about it.

Post by lightnstuff

That was good seemed...orc like.

Post by Morec0

Well done Skreen, that bit of writing shows how much orcs have truely changed from their old days.

Post by lightnstuff

Now that I think of it, warcraft has the only honorable orcs, this being an excellent example, and kinda makes me wonder how stories will continue to evolve seeing as the stereotypical blood letting maniacs have become something more.

Post by Orranis

I feel it's time for a new... Challenge!

This Weeks Challenge:
Write a story from the perspective of an Aspect, the leaders of the Dragonflights. After doing Nozdormu, I feel like I want to see how people see through the eyes of the other ones.

((Btw, this means Morec, you gonna have to choose a winner.))

Post by HiVolt

I guess this means I'm going to have to update the OP soon... /sigh.

Post by Morec0

((Btw, this means Morec, you gonna have to choose a winner.))

For my challenge or yours?

The winner:

Meh, if you copy paste this you'd better stick credit, 'kay?
Page one of Light and Death:

This is the first part of MorecofRivendare's semi-epic, rewritten by Faceshield. Hope you enjoy... I tried to keep it as much in tune with his writing as possible while adding some of my own styles.

Chillwind Point in the Alterac Mountains…

The valley was quiet. Excluding the faint rush of running water in the nearby river, the true noise diluted by the distance, and the occasional chirping of birds, all was silent. Suddenly, the soft 'oomph' like noise of hooves on unpaved earth is heard, getting increasingly loud as it approached.

Three Paladins, evidently marked as such by their gleaming plate armor and aura that seemed to project righteousness, were riding through the mountain pass. They rode in a triangular pattern, and the one leading the other two wore a long tabard, a deep blue adorned by a golden lions head, could be identified as a major commander by the badges he wore on his breastplate.

The Paladins approached a semicircle of dirtied canvas tent around a incredibly large fire pit, where the charred logs and ashes from the night before now cold and insignificant as a faded memory. Many men were laid out on stretchers, crudely bandaged and moaning. You could see blood seeping through some of the bandages, a red stain on their bodies as well as their innocence. Their was also a few that remained upright and standing, presumably healthy, which we're conversing with a captain, presumably receiving orders. The lead Paladin rode slowly over to the captain. The Paladin had pitch-black hair that seemed as if it could rival the void in darkness, with a black beard and a tan of light golden-brown. “Captain,” the Paladin spoke in a monotone voice.

Startled, the Captain turned to face him and then saluted. “Lord Morec!”
“What’s the current status?” the Paladin – William Morec – demanded, though he did not sound angry.
“Not too good, sir” the captain replied. “The Alterac Mountains act as a good buffer between us and the Scourge, but their numbers is still too great. Sir, our troops can’t take many more losses.” Morec motioned to the other Paladins, who quickly dismounted and began to tend to the wounded, using a mixture of Light and first aid kits. “The other generals have ordered more troops here, Captain; they should be arriving within the hour. Until then, we are to hold the undead off.”
“But, sir,” the Captain started, but was interrupted by an approaching scout.
“Sir,” the scout said, gasping for breath, “the Scourge are making another charge!” The Captains face went white with terror, but Morec remained calm as always, taking a few passive seconds to compose a strategy.

“We will hold them off at the dam,” he finally responded. “Captain, gather the troops – all of the troops – we will need them to help hold off this attack.” The captain began to object, but Morec glared at him, his narrowed eyes warning an objection. “Now.” He stated bluntly, showing zero tolerance for discussion. The Captain nodded meekly, and seemed to gulp. "You head the man!" He shouted, and proceeded to shout at them as they scurried and hustled to get into ranks. Morec motioned to his paladins, and they strode to his side. “Garen, John, I need you too move to the back lines for this fight and provide special support to the troops in case the Scourge has any of their Necromancers with them, as they oft do. I will be in the front lines to help hold off the Scourge’s troops hand to hand.”
“Yes, sir,” they replied obediently, and each bringing their war-hammers to their forheads in a salute. Morec brandished his mighty broadsword, etched with holy runes that glow a bright yellow, their light reflected onto the rest of the blade, in the same fashion as a response before striding hastily off.

The other troops had already fallen into formation. Morec scanned the crowd, looking deep into the eyes of each one with unblinking will, void of fear or doubt. But when their eyes met, he saw not the same thing in them. They were frightened, terrified even, fearful of what was to come.
“Warriors of Lordaeron, hear me!” Morec’s voice boomed throughout the valley, and echoed backwards, so that any who had not heard the first time, if it were possible, would surely have. It was a voice that demanded attention, deep and powerful. “Today marks a day of retribution, today marks the day, when we make our defiant stand against the Scourge, no matter how impossible the odds! These are dark times, no doubt! Many of our greatest hero’s have fallen; the crown prince, Arthas Menethil, led the Scourge attack that killed Uther, the Lightbringer himself!” There was a murmur throughout the ranks of the troops. “But,” Morec continued, silencing all such whisperings immediately, “If Lightbringer were here today, if he stood where I stand now, he would say this to you: the Light is the most powerful thing any being can posses! As dark as the dungeon room may be, the light of the candle will always be stronger! With that light, we will make our stand against the Scourge, against the Darkness!”

The soldiers went into a frenzy of excitement, war cries were screamed, each louder than the last, until they all drowned into the hum of righteous knights, on their crusade against the dark forces. However, even these glorious cries were no match for the cries of the injured, for coming over the dam a mass of gray and white bodies, or what was left of bodies anyways, that descended upon the soldiers in a violent storm of sickness and death. "For the Alliance, For Lordaeron, In the name of King Terenas, let us purge these dark monstrosities from the world!"

... And so, the swarm descended, and the battle commenced.

Why this? Although I enjoyed the prolonged battle sequence written by Hyper, she changed the attack that killed Morec (Itheac going over Morec's head), and that attack was later refferenced in the final pages.

Still, you both did a good job.

Create Your Own Warcraft Lore!

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