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Aftermath-Witchhunt (Part One)

Post by lightnstuff

An abridged rehash of a particular plot string of Adamsm' RP, Aftermath. Credit to who's characters are used, UrAgahn, Skreeran, Undead22, Benzene, and others.

Nightbane sat in her worg form, listening to the soft sounds of night. Born a worg, she was of a gray pelt, with soft, glimmering white claw marks on the back of her shoulder. Compared to the average worgen, she managed to look more feral, even when at rest. However, she merely looked into the pools of Arlithien. The moon hung over her reflection’s head, and uneasily she pawed at the moonstone at her side. It was the only remnant of her friend, her kidnapper, the one who damned her to sentience and the closest thing she had to a father. Her mother was gone as well, she had supposed, she was never told what happened to her. The thought nagged to be pursued, but as usual she disregarded it. It was simply more convenient to meditate.

At the same time beneath the bows of teldrassil another wandered. Flamehowl, a dark gray worgen with glowing green eyes strode along the paths of the great tree. One of his contacts had informed him of a worgen priestess of elune, rare even in these parts. He wondered idly if it was true, that the priestess really was Nightbane. If so, he wasn’t sure what would happen. Lighthowl’s death had put him into a deep depression, and seeing her adopted daughter might be more than he could bear.

Nonetheless, Nightbane snapped to reality. Feeling that there were perhaps better things for her to be doing, she trotted off towards the temple in a hurry. Not long before arriving a grim scent filled her nostrils. She growled angrily to herself at the offense one would bring to her home. Demons? She thought to herself. She stretched bipedal now, and her claws twitched for the feel of her bow. The dark magic filled the air more densely as she approached. She came upon Flamehowl after he hid the demonic circle he had used to bring himself forth. He looked at her and thought, Finally… Nightbane watched sternly the worgen before her and growled, “You…I know you…”

Flamehow bowed politely as he responded, “The same could be said for you, milady.”

Nighbane’s hackles shot up aggressively and she bristled angrily, “What are you doing here, and how DARE you spread demonic magic upon holy ground?”

Flamehowl chuckled and shook his head, “Why, looking for you.” All aggression fled from Nightbane, and she fumbled in confusion, not sure what to think. Flamehowl looked at her scrutinizingly, “You look nothing like your mother, but that is to be expected of course, as she had only adopted you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she responded with a low growl.

Flamehowl shook his head reproachfully, “You must have been too young to remember your mother, Lighthowl.” Nightbane merely growled anxiously. “”What’s the matter? A wonderful woman she was,” he said, staring off into the distance. His claws twitched, “Until she killed herself.”

Nightbane stormed up to the offending worgen, “WHAT? Tell me the truth or by the goddess I’ll rip your throat out!”

Flamehowl merely looked at Nightbane as she charged him, “Did you ever hear stories of the rogue worgen Blackbite?”

Nightbane stared harshly at him, “What does that witch have to do with this?”

Flamehowl cleared his throat, “Blackbite was once known as Lighthowl, but though various events, she became corrupted with the power of an evil scythe that she forged, with the help of the orcish warlock, Dag’rema. I helped your mother, and eventually she threw off her insane worgen side and Lighthowl, a good person, came full in charge. While Lighthowl was in command, she was a good person… But eventually her addiction to dark magic overcame her, and she tried some of her past rituals, which involved a substance that could boost magical energy. But without her old power, she eventually died from the serum she injected…” He looked at the awestruck priestess and swallowed, “Don’t worry. I just came to see if you still lived. I lost track of you when Lighthowl died, and everything went amuck. The pack scattered and I think I’m the only one still alive. It was good to see you again.” He bowed, and warped away.

Nightbane sighed quietly, slinging herself on the side of the bridge. She flopped her tail, pondering what to do. It didn’t take long to occur to her, however, and she bolted up and made her way over to her quarters. On her back she bore a silken satchel, enchanted so that when she slipped into her worg form it would become nothing more than a tattoo on her other shoulder. On her hip hung a quiver, which became an arrow upon her pelt in her birth form. Lastly her bow of bone inlaid with a twirling pattern, which became a twirling pattern on her back.

Nightbane took a long look back on the temple where she grew up. If what that worgen had said was true she must atone for her mother. He likely lied about her being adopted, but he had also named a warlock, Dagrema. The orcs if anyone would have answers, so she would travel to orgrimmar, find the warlock and then kill her and any other accomplices she had.

Bleakly, she walked off.

Flamehowl wandered along the border of Ashenvale, aimlessly. With an incoherent snarl of rage, he hurled a fireball into the distance, setting a tree or two on fire. He then started following a faint trail, Nightbane’s.

Conveniently, if the two knew it or not at the time, Adlos Firestar, the half-elf had fallen from his master’s phoenix and was recuperating in time to see the fireball streak past. Lighting his own hands ablaze he shouted into the trees, “Who’s there?”

Flamehowl, even as the shout reached him snorted satisfactorily. He was more content with the trees going ablaze.

“I said show yourself. And that means now!” Aldos yelled as he threw a fireball from where the previous one had come from. From Flamehowl’s perspective, the fireball hurtled out of nowhere. With a surprised jerk, he caught the fireball by reflex. He couldn’t consume it so impromptly however, so he tossed it away and stalked towards the source. As he neared however, he faded into the shadows, a low growl sounding from his throat.

Aldos watched the fireball change direction but couldn’t see who did it. He let go of his staff as his other hand lit on fire. His ears twitched when he heard a faint growling and smirked realizing what it was. “I know you’re out there, worgen,” he stated as his eyes darted around.

“I see you, half-elf, and you hear me. Good, it is as it should be.” Flamehowl stretched for the moment, “Now, what is it you want?”

“What do I want? I want to know why you decided to start throwing spells at me.” The half –elf accused.

“I was unaware you were in the vicinity. I was under the assumption I was alone,” Flamehowl stated dismissively.

“So you just like to randomly light things on fire then?” Aldos asked, looking for the offender, “Now who are you?”

“I do, as a matter of fact,” he said. He dropped from the shadows in the trees, landing in a crouch, and then straightened to his full height, “I am Flamehowl.”

Aldos looked up sharply and tensed when he heard that name, “That’s not possible. All of that pack died long ago.”

“Not all.” Flamehowl elaborated, “I recently had a run in with the worg, Nightbane, adopted daughter of Lighthowl,” his eyes slipped into the distance, “I can understand why you would think I was dead. After Lighthowl’s death, I…I went mad. It took Fundaen to restrain me from burning down the whole town, and I turned on him. He fell before me, and in horror I fled into the mountains of Alterac…” He snorted and berated himself. Pathetic, I didn’t even think about resisting.

“Why would I care if you had died?” Aldos snapped, “It’s not like we’re related.” He wondered just how much Flamehowl knew.

Flamehowl shook his head, snapping back into reality, “I was merely commenting on the popular belief that I was deceased.”

Aldos glared, “I guess. What made you come back from the mountain?” He thought to himself as he picked up his staff, guess he doesn’t know that much.

Flamehowl looked up at the setting sun and began to orate, “I heard a young worg priestess of the moon named Nightbane. I believed her to be the daughter of Lighthowl. And I was correct. From what I’ve gathered, Nightbane has travelled in the direction of Orgrimmar. I have a worg to track down. And if the horde has injured her, I have a city to burn.” He willed himself to transform, mist slightly covered him, his fur pulled back into his skin, and his muzzle shortened into a nose and mouth, leaving a sin’dorei standing before him. He had red hair falling over his shoulders and back, pulled back from his face by a red headband. “Al diel shala, brother,” he said, fading back into the shadows.

Aldos paused suddenly, “Wait. What do you mean Lighthowl had a daughter? She never had any kids.”

Flamehowl in the meantime was already some ways away from the elf. Rather than respond, he traced a note in fire with the words ‘adopted daughter’ and left it on the ground. Aldos, rather than immediately, took his time waiting for Flamehowl to leave before taking the note. He crumbled it up and threw it away before trying to figure out where he was.

Post by lightnstuff

After some time of walking she found herself at the gates of Orgrimmar. She shivered. The treeless sky was alien, it scared her, but she still yet wasn’t concerned. There were worse things to fear. She could easily pass herself off as a normal worg, perhaps even a spirit wolf, but she still had to find her suspect. She trotted inside the city, not shrinking from the traffic. She wandered the streets, confused and somewhat agitated at the orcish style of living. It was their choice, she deemed, and started listening for conversations to overhear. She lay herself in what she thought was some kind of tavern. She had been chased out of a few buildings, but had managed to charm her way past the innkeeper of this on; trolls, orcs, tauren, and even a couple of elves streamed by. She merely sat, gnawing on her moonstone, waiting for a target to investigate. She eyed an orc wandering, only to look away as he sat with a rambunctious group of younger orcs.

“Hey,” a female voice called out to her, “What’s a worgen like you doing in a place like this?” A young orc woman stepped out of the crowd, looking at Nightbane. Her piercing blue eyes peered out from beneath black bangs directly at the worgen. “Not every day I see a worgen in town, what brings you here?” Nightbane snapped her head over to the orc speaking to her. She growled and sat up on her haunches. “No offense intended, of course,” the orc girl apologized, sitting down by the worg. “I merely noticed that you were not an ordinary worg, and was curious. As I said, it is not often that we see worgen visiting our city.” Nightbane merely cast her a suspicious glance. Only magic or perhaps a shaman would be able to sense her. A warlock perhaps? Rather polite for one. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine,” the orc shrugged, standing, “was just curious.”

Nightbane barked suddenly and stood up.

“Huh?” the orc asked, looking back at the worg. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that…” she chuckled.

Nightbane grunted and stood beside the orc, gesturing she would follow her.

“You coming?” the orc asked, shrugging. “Alright, let me go buy you something to eat,” she chuckled, heading off to the meat market. “You’re probably wondering how I knew you were more than just a mere worg,” she grinned, chuckling. “You might call it a gift. I was born with the ability to see into the spirit. Shamanism, some call it. I was speaking to the family wolf before I could speak in complete sentences…” she chuckled. “But I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself. I am Gurka, daughter of Gorg Strongarm of the Bleeding Hollow Clan,” She smiled. She ordered a moderately sized slab of meat from the butcher and threw it down to the worg, “there you go,” she chuckled, “feeling more talkative yet?”

Nightbane grunted graciously at Gurka and quickly devoured her meal. She glanced cautiously at the crowd and tilted her head, taking a deep breath, “I’m hunting the warlock responsible for the death of my mother, and any of her affiliates. I don’t mean to stay any longer than that, I just need information.”

“Well, I can do whaterver I can to help…” Gurka chuckled, “I’ve been looking for an adventure. It’s so boring here in Orgrimmar… I need to get out and earn a name for myself…” she smiled.

“Do you know of a warlock named Dag’rema?” Nightbane asked uncertainly, “I’m hunting her in particular.”

“Havent’ heard of her,” Gurka shrugged, “but I do know a few people that might have some information. The Shattered Hand Clan knows all about everything that goes on… I have a few friends there that might be willing to share.”

Nightbane lightened visibly at the sound of this, “Could you show me to them? I would hate to waste time.”

“Of course,” Gurka answered with a smile, “I can’t promise that they’ll have what you’re looking for, but it’s probably the best chance you’ll find in this city…” she nodded. “So…She killed your mother?” she frowned.

“My adopted mother, I would rather not speak of it…” Nightbane grunted quietly and looked away from Gurka.

“Fair enough,” Gurka shrugged, “We all have things we don’t want to talk about. Whatever the case, I’m happy to help. Certainly more interesting than sitting on my thumbs and doing nothing…”
Nightbane, after starting off, turned and looked back at Gurka, “Oh and please refer to me as just a worg. We needn’t be causing trouble.”

“Oh course,” Gurka nodded, “Thought I don’t think it would cause a problem. The Horde and Alliance are on peaceful terms these days.”

“I prefer my fur spit free. Anyways, shall we take off?” the worg suggested.

“Suit yourself,” Gurka shrugged, “But yeah…Just follow me this way… The Shattered Hand likes to stick to the Drag and the Cleft of Shadows… Thul and Kurk should be down there somewhere. They can probably get us something to use.” Nightbane grunted as they left the open air, watching the occasional glance at the markings on her pelt.

Gurka walked down into the Drag, looking for her friends. Not seeing them, she continued into the Cleft of Shadows. Finally, she grinned, spying her friends.

"Thul! Kurk!" she called out. "How are you doing?"

"Gurka!" the brothers grinned, meeting their friend. "What brings you here?"

"I have a friend that wants to know about a warlock named Dag'rema..." Gurka nodded. "What can you tell me?"

"Eh? Dag'rema?" Thul asked, frowning. "Why do they wish to know about her?"

"Personal problems, I'm told," Dag'rema answered. "She wouldn't speak more of it than that."

"Not surprising..." Kurk chuckled. "!@#$%'s managed to piss a lot of people off in her time."

"She's bad news..." Thul echoed. "Leader of the Shadow Council. Word is she killed her entire family and keeps their souls on a shelf."

"Yikes..." Gurka muttered, listening intently. "Any word on where she went?

"Eh... Last I heard, she took her coven and ran off to Outland," Thul continued. "Then she disappeared, vanished. I'd look for clues out there."

"Not so fast..." Kurk grunted. "This witch is powerful. You shouldn't stick your nose in here. Not yet. And unless your friend is some kind of crazy super hero, I'd tell them to give up on getting any kind of revenge. At least not alone..."

"Right..." Gurka nodded, glancing down to the worg. "Although, if she's pissed off as many people as you say, she might be able to find help taking her down."

"Maybe," Thul muttered. "A lot of people have tried. And she's still alive and well."
"I don't suppose you know any of the people that might want to kill her?" she asked.

"I don't exactly have a list that big..." Thul chuckled. "Though I suppose I can write down a few of the more prominent names..." he nodded, scribbling something down on a piece of paper.

"Thanks," Gurka smiled, taking the paper and walking off with the worg. "Did you learn what you want? I read you the list if you want to go looking for some help taking her down."

“I don’t mind that, but I will be leaving to outland either way,” Nightbane stated bluntly.

"Well, we got a couple Worgen in Gilneas whose pack was killed by the warlock..." Gurka nodded, reading the list, "And a guy in Stormwind who wanted her dead. And it looks like there's a troll chieftain northwest of here who tried to kill her as well..." she paused, looking down to the worg, "So you want to try and get their help, or go straight to Outland?"

“Details? Are they trustable?” Nightbane grunted.

"Can't say," Gurka shrugged. "I don't think Thul and Kurk would have referred us to them if they were untrustworthy, but I don't really have detail, just names and a short bio. If you want to try recruiting them, we can head to Stormwind, Gilneas, or Darkshore first. If you'd rather pass on them, then we can head straight for the Dark Portal. Your call," she shrugged. "Wherever we go, I'm going to have to stop by my house to pack and tell my parents I'm leaving.”

Nightbane nodded quietly, “Let’s look these up then, could you do the talking with the trolls like here then?”

“If you like,” Gurka replied. “Let me just stop by my parents’ house first, and then we may depart,” she nodded. Gurka walked back into the Drag, heading for a nondescript hut on the rim of the great canyon.

"Hello, Father," she smiled. "Mother," she nodded as well. "I have good news!"

"What?" her father asked, smiling as he set down the carcass he was cleaning. Her mother looked over as well, clearly interested.

"I've found a quest in which to earn my name," Gurka smiled. "There is an evil warlock that has fled from our people to Outland. I am gathering a group to slay her."

"Excellent," her mother smiled. "May your hunt go well."

"I'm sure it will," Gurka smiled. "I should return in but a few weeks, and when I do, I shall return Gurka Witchkiller!" she grinned.

"That's my girl..." her father laughed. “We will miss you."

"And I you," Gurka smiled. "I will hurry," she nodded, packing up a few changes of clothes and some food. Finally, she grabbed a pair of axes and tied them to her belt. "Alright, ready," she nodded to the worg. "Let us depart."

Nightbane surveyed her surroundings, “Let’s get moving.”

“Alright,” Gurka smiled, heaving her pack over her shoulder. “Where we headed first? Trolls, right?” The worg nodded in response and took off. Gurka smiled, shifting into her spirit wolf form and running alongside her companion, “By the way, I don’t think I caught your name,” She smiled.

“Nightbane,” was the priestesses response.

“That’s an ominous name,” Gurka chuckled, still running across Durotar towards the barrens.

Post by lightnstuff

Not entirely sure what drove me to do this. It's a whopper of a task for sure. I suppose it has something to do with SC. Or something. I'm not sure.

I'm only covering the effective main plot. Aftermath is a massive 1326 pages. You can't expect me to get even all the points of the main plot, let alone the entire thing.

If your characters are not in here, I'm sorry, but I just can't fit it all in. They might show up later, but I'll make no promises.

Post by Skreeran

I like the concept of trimming down especially memorable RPs into fan-fics. This one in particular I'm very fond of--though it can be cringe-worthy at times when you read your old stuff and see how much you've improved since then... :P I don't think I would write Gurka's dialogue the same way if I were writing it today; it's too human and flat.

As for your writing here, it's certainly good. I think the descriptions could use some work. I have the same problem with sacrificing description to get to the meaty dialogue, especially in RPs. The whole thing feels a bit rushed at times (in terms of pacing, not writing necessarily), but I suppose a lot of that is just because it's pulled right from an RP, where people want to get right to the action rather than focusing on the pacing of the story, so that's forgivable.

Overall, it's very interesting and I'd certainly like to see more.

Post by lightnstuff

Post by Skreeran

Post by lightnstuff

Right, right, I understand what you did. All I'm saying is that in regards to Gurka's dialogue, if Aftermath was a new RP going on right now, I think I would be able to write her better than I did then. Looking back at one's previous works with a critical eye can make one cringe at times.

Of course. It's bizarre to see some of Nightbane's dialogue being semi-civil. Not to mention some of her body language is off too.

Also, I had COMPLETELY forgotten that she had other markings on her pelt. I suppose Rotha has them too.

Aftermath-Witchhunt (Part One)

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