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Character list
Wyrmrest Accord
Alliance
Eillian Locke, Knight of Stormwind. A world-weary veteran with a troubled soul.(Eillian, Human Monk) (@NetherTossed)
Ivoria Taylor, Gilnean seamstress and arcanist (Ivoria, Worgen Mage) (@IvyTailor)
Lexifrazz Glimmergear., Explorer's League geologist(Lexifrazz, Gnome Warrior) (@glimmergear)
Thyra Thaumaforge - Dark Iron Scribe ( Read more... ) -
Eillian: Homecoming
Go home, they told him. You've earned it.
He had few things to pack. His weapons and gear. Civilian clothes, much-mended and over twenty years out of style. A very small box of personal effects he would have died a hundred times before he let and orc or demon lay a claw on.
When you go to war, you travel light.
He stood at the top of the Stair and ( Read more... ) -
Romilly: (Re)Conciliation
My dear Romilly ( Read more... ) -
OOC: Character thoughts: Hunterkid?
Yeah okay I got an alt problem.
Last year, when I was new to WrA, I had a little Human Paladin whose general concept was “Refugee from Tyr’s Hand.” She was seventeen or eighteen years old, just a kid when the Plague came through Lordaeron. Her MRP backstory involved her turning up at Northshire seemingly at random one day, just another person ( Read more... ) -
Caladhel: Stood In The Fire
I've been in Winterspring for the past several months. I don't know who made the decision to send me here, when I was unable to make it for myself. Probably some Cenarion healer; the move has the air of that kind of belief about it. That kind of balance.
Out of the fire, into the frost. Most of the other patients in the temple are burn victims.
I ( Read more... ) -
Buzzi: What the Water Said
Sure, they’d been there back on Kezan. They’d been called Environmental Engineers when they worked for the KTC, and weirdos when they didn’t.
Weedy Meg lived under a dock, peddled whatever garbage she dredged out of the water, to whatever sucker willing to shell out for it. J.W in the Slums could take any broken down wreck of a hot-rod and get it ( Read more... ) -
Aellais: Silence
Howling Fjord
It’s the small sounds, their absence, that I notice the most.
This morning, I did not hear Calida tearing up earth in the backyard, and I did not hear the scrape of Chesric’s boots on the upstairs floor. Always as quietly as he could, it seemed.
We’d fixed up the best space - the old Jarl’s quarters - for him. Every blanket and fur and ( Read more... )
