Archive for the ‘Ashtivar’ Category

REPORT: Killed a Nerubian, recovered Tremaine and Antinua((OOC reference- ‘Scruffy Man’ is Martin Tantrill, ‘Prissy Pallerdin Lady’ is Kaide, and ‘Antiwotsit’ and all variations thereof is Antinua. ‘Vice’ is Vyysce.))


Organized by Caleigh North, led by NO FUCKING ONE, participants: Fair, Vice, Ashtivar Whiteoak, some scruffy man, some prissy pallerdin, Caleigh just sort o left us to do it ourselves since we’re so good at shit and shit.

Injuries sustained- Scruffy man broke his leg, Anti-whatsit got stabbed, everyone generally bruised and bumped but no one died this time so that’s nice.

Summoned to SI:7 again, this time by Miss North. She wanted us to go up north again, see what we could make of Anti-whatsit and some other woman who got taken so okay. Vice and I led the way to the pit, then erryone jumped down and I took on the cat’s shape to sniff about, caught wind of two humanoids wot weren’t us so we trekked into this dank ol cave thang an then there wos a corpse oerhead so the prissy pallerdin hit it with a shield an it was all webbed and shit.

Inside wos bones from a blood elf, thought fer a minute it was probably Tremaine but it wasn’t. Then suddenly a web dropped down and I took the Bear’s shape and wos too fat fer it to pull up proper-like, specially since Vice grabbed my legs and was hanging on and then someone fockin set the web on fire so the Nerubian let go and I fell and rolled us into the water and then Vice and I wos webbed together. So the Vice threw me at the focker and the web broke and I missed the Nerubian and hit the scruffy man instead, pretty sure that’s when his leg broke.

Prissy paladin lady hit him with Light-shit, Scruffy hit him with bullets, Fair tried to put holes in him with arrows, Vice threw things like the paladin lady, and I took the Cat’s shape again. We beat the fucker good, though we sustained some injuries ourselves, and then chucked him in the water and he drowned.

There were web stuffs along his body so we dragged it ashore and started opening em up and a horde of wee spiders came and tried to ett me. I drowned ‘em and Vice tried to help and it just ended up with an ass-ton o spiders in the lake and it was gross.

One of the pouches had a sack of dead seagulls, another had Tremaine who was poisoned. I did m’green magics to purge the toxins from him and there was another focker in there with a hat and he was a ghost or something, ran right through the wall and we ne’er seen him again. There were some more bones and then Scruffy got annoyed and stabbed into the last one and lo, it was Anti-wotsit.

So I did m’mendin’ shit on her an nearly lost her seeing as we wos underground in the middle of a starless night surrounded by undeath everywhere so kiss my arse. Anyway, she lived, errything went black. Was alive when I woke up so I figure everything’s good now.


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REPORT: Lorgus Jett takes down Quinny, probably some other people who don’t really matter; possibly dies

About two, three weeks ago; current date is 9/2

Led by Tremaine, participants Quinny ‘Chuckles’ Avenyve, Vice, Ashtivar Whiteoak

Injuries sustained- Whiteoak was bruised up and prematurely aged, though the effects seem to have been temporary. Tremaine was missing, presumed dead. Quinny fallen in battle; body recovered and mended, still dead. Anti-somethin’ missing, presumed dead.

Permanent damages occurred.

Was summoned to SI:7 by way of note, as I often am when I’m needed. Got there and it was people I didn’t know, excepting Chuckles. This Tremaine fellow showed up and was all, ‘hey your leaders are all gone and shit and the Legion’s going to be in deep shit if you don’t do something’. So we all went to this run down hobo camp out in Redridge and rummaged through a shit-ton of armor and weaponry and such until Tremaine found this stunted wee whelp in the back and then got his dumb arse chased all the way to the town hall by some big dumb protodrake.

Then we went to Northrend with a magic paper and Vice got balloons.

We made our way to this big pit underneath Ice Crown Citadel, where we found two figures- Lorgus Jett and Anti-whatsit, some draenei bint. Turns out Jett wasn’t really a person, he was somethin’ else all along just using some poor bastard named Lorgus Jett’s body to fuck with the twilight cultists for whatever end, make ‘em do shit for him, who fockin’ knows.

Anyway, Tremaine was all saying words and shit, and then Jett did some creepy invisible hand chokey shit to the draenei lady and chucked her down a hole. We all tried to kill Jett, which was more or less a dismal failure as Tremaine got chucked down the hole. He tried to chuck me down a hole too, but I’m a Witch so fuck him I have feathers.

We fought the focker till he turned into a big green rock piece of shit, and he was all ‘wooo lookit me I move real fast’ and really handed our arses to us on a gold plate pretty as you please. We were doin’ alright up until he crouched down with this big ol’ shield of whatever the fuck and started makin’ ‘em blue runes he does, the ones that turn shit to dust. Vice managed to huck a sword into the bubble and it pierced through, even had the focker stabbed a bit. I tried to go over the runes in my bird form and help wedge the sword in deeper but then I got old as fockin bones and I had to stop before I withered and died.

Then Quinny showed up with that stupid lookin’ bronze whelp and started waving it at the runes but that didn’t do shit- including turn to dust. The whelp waddled all derp-like at Vice and then Vice used it as a hat and charged into the runes and didn’t die and started punching Jett’s bubble and then the runes almost had us and we were gonna get old and die real fast-like and then suddenly they was gone and Jett was all impaled and punched and shit and he started glowin and rattlin fit to kersplode

Then he jumped on Quinny and exploded.

It tossed me and Vice back a bit, then Vice got all fretsome and told me to fix Chuckles but Chuckles was dead, really really dead and her body was all charred and black and shit. All that was left of Jett was a glowin green rock, which I still have.

I ain’t a witch that can call back souls, it’s not something I know how to do, but for a soul to be called back the body ought to be ready, so I did the best I could and told Vice he’d have to take us home. Mending in a pit of undeath with no sun, not even stars, no plants nearby- wasn’t easy. She’s still dead, though, for all her body looks like a body.

Vice took us home, I don’t remember at that point seeing as how I was out cold.

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Far away boys

The air was cold, the night was semi dark in the way that summer evenings often were- as if the sun was never so far from reach that the sky should find its blackness wholly. She’d left Stormwind both drunk and sodden, her heart sore from recollection and one prayer trapped fast behind her gritted teeth- I want to go home.

But the fact was, she had none. Gilneas was gone, and what remained was little more than a skeleton of the land it had been. But even a skeleton was better than Stormwind, was superior to the reeking canals and the pompous Light-wielders who strutted about like they owned the place- of course, in actuality, they rather did; a fact which only sharpened the anger in her breast.

So much of her time had been lately spent in drunken hazes, there was little left that had been untouched by the Witch’s abuse of liquor. Her attempts to sober up for more than a few days had found her in foul moods- without the booze, the world seemed such a harsher place, after all. There felt to be little to laugh about, little to light her mischievous grin- only shit and more shit, piled atop itself in a reeking mass. Eidrin was gone, Archie was still an asshole, Caleigh was nowhere to be found- at least Indi had discovered her happiness in Kalen, however bizarre that was. There was Lorcain, too, but she couldn’t tell just how to categorize that one- friend? Drinking partner? Business partner? Punching bag? He had an unfortunate tendency to sneak up and slap her upside the head, which she administered righteous, proper punishment for- but lately it just hadn’t been enough.

There was, of course, the hollow statue filled with gold; but what good was gold when the only thing you wanted couldn’t be bought?

And of course, there was the Legion- but after Tia’s little display, Ashtivar felt little inclination to help them- not that she’d been much use or help before that, mind. The drinking binges had led her far from Stormwind, on adventures and tavern-brawls in the far south of Kalimdor. It was there that she’d been forced to be accountable for just a fraction of the destruction she’d caused in her liquor-soaked adventures. This, in turn, had led to her indentured employment as a scullery wench- ‘tits too crooked to be a serving wench’, they’d told her, and then she’d added further medical bills to her debt by showing the goblin in charge exactly what she thought of that notion.

She hadn’t ever finished paying that debt; a drinking contest with a traveler and she’d stolen his fare after he’d passed out beneath the table. Ashtivar had come to on a boat to Northrend with a hangover no one would could envy… Northrend and the Sons had been good for her. But it still wasn’t home.

She’d been drunk when she’d flung herself off the Harbor parapet, barely able to keep altitude with damp feathers, but she was sober now, as the stormcrow skimmed low against the waves. The bird was well aware that this was a stupid plan, had been a stupid plan last time and would be a stupid plan next time; even so, she was drawn here. Gilneas would always be home, so long as her heart beat. Granmere’s abandoned homestead was the compass her soul pointed for.

The skies were grey, the wind was hard and the ocean waves seethed beneath her, veined and capped with foam. She could feel the thunder as it rolled over the sea, and she knew she was home, though she didn’t know why, or when she’d return…

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Don’t remember when. A month or two back.

Led by Caleigh North Kriss, participants Ashtivar Whiteoak, Torgian, Fugue, Samili ‘Muffinlady’ Sorensen, Nate ‘the Great’ Natsby, Caleigh’s husband, some other fuckers

Injuries sustained- Caleigh got choked, some of us got hit with shadow shit, I had to fight Caleigh’s dumbfuck husband for some damn reason; we almost ditched Muffinlady but it turns out someone grabbed her, she was knocked out or some shit.

As witnessed by Ashtivar Whiteoak:

Shit I thought I did this ages ago. Fucking parrot never made it back to Stormwind, original report’s probably in something’s belly.

We arrived at the launch point and I was asked to do a quick overhead scan to see what was up, I saw the man we were supposed to be killing run into this temple thing so I reported back; miss North floated all of us so we could move silently over the water, and we went down the steps into the temple where we encountered a shadow specter in the water and miss Sorensen went missing. The mages did some finger-wiggly shit and fixed the shadow thing right good after I nearly got drowned, haha stupid thing didn’t even know I could be a sea bear, point one for Whiteoak yeee-awww

Torgian went back to try to find Sorenson and I waited, the others went on ahead and encountered a trap at the base of some stairs by the time Torgian and I caught up. Some sort of step-plate thing that’ll fuck your day right up; fortunately, didn’t really do much damage so we continued on until we found what’s his fuck, Lorgus Jett.

Caleigh kept the robe-wearin’ folk and her husband toward the back, put Natsby, myself, and that other fucker front-wise. Jett was goin’ on about some shit and started spewing shadow shit, Kriss went nuts and tried to kill Caleigh, we stopped him, took some good blows at Jett to little effect. Natsby distinguished himself like he always does, this time by throwing some sort of box at Jett and it seemed to rile him up some, was real well done. Torgian and Fugue did finger wigglin’ shit. Beer is great.

Then Jett vanished sayin’ something about how we all suck and didn’t really seem to be impacted much, there was some shadow shit crawling across the floor that destroyed everything it touched, just turned it right to dust- damndest thing- one of the mages threw up a portal and we all got the shit out of there.

Caleigh done pretty good, we all mighta died without her leadin’; it was her idea to prevent the most easily damaged members of the group from getting killed by Jett being a douchebag, was her idea to protal the fuck outta there, was well done. No one died but we almost forgot dippy mcMuffinmaker, was Torgian that grabbed her I think. I don’t know.

Fucking parrot. Need more beer.

Oh yeah Chuckles was there and did some shit.

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The following is penned in remarkably precise, if grumpy, penmanship. Two copies, one delivered to the mailbox of Shalaara, the other to Tia Lansing.

Late evening into early morning, the sixteenth day of the third month; three quarters moon.

Led by Hector Grimbane, participants Ashtivr Whiteoak, Khadros, Juhla, Jolane Silveroak, Quinny ‘Chuckles’ Avenyse, and Markin Quickfix.

Injuries sustained-Markin Quickfix took damage to his left leg in the initial investigation, Juhla was sat on; the secondary investigation led to an explosion which destroyed a building in Caer Darrow, the results of which were severe damage to Hector Grimbane and an inconvenient shoulder wound to Ashtivar Whiteoak. Full recovery of all parties is anticipated.

As witnessed by Ashtivar Whiteoak:

Contacted by Tia Lansing to join a group of Legion members in dealing with one of the handful of issues that has taken second seat to other matters. She gathered us before the Flightmaster and miss Juhla was asked to select a task for us. She chose to pay tribute to Uther’s tomb, a task which Miss Lansing was unable to illuminate the meaning of for us. We left en masse and made our way North, where we spoke to a Kaldorei priest, groundskeeper. We offered our aid and he told us they had been experiencing a problem with restless spirits, and asked if we could help.

We made our way to the indicated position and encountered non-hostile, non-responsive spirits hovering the grave site. One in particular was standing by a grave, so we approached. Several attempts were made to garner its attention, but it wasn’t until miss Jolane spoke that it responded, warning us to leave now and pushing us back. I attempted to plant a flower, but it spat the seed back. Markin jumped forward and began to dig.

The spirit possessed me and I tried to eat him; it was at this point that he sustained damage to his leg. He uncovered something in his efforts, and the spirit left me and possessed Juhla. Chuckles quickly tackled her to the ground and kept her pinned, unable to act against us. Someone made Light explode the thing that Markin had uncovered, and the spirits abruptly stopped and went away.

We reported back to the Kaldorei, and told him what we’d found. He asked that we investigate Caer Darrow, where the man buried with the newly destroyed artifact had been found.

Several of our number had to split off at that point, leaving us with Jolane, Hector, myself, and Khadros. Khadros took off ahead and there was a terrible explosion. A body went flying and a mysterious orb appeared. Hector pocketed it and we went to investigate; it appeared to be a cultist, in similar rainments to the ones we’ve faced before, shot in the head. I retrieved Khadros’ gun and we went to continue on, when something alerted us to a presence on the ramparts. We set Jolane to keep watch and investigated.

Hector and I found a man and gave chase, eventually cornering him in a basement. I pinned him as a bear and Hector cut off his arm, then he exploded.

I went to check on Jolane and a minute later, Khadros and Hector were running out shouting for us to move, so we moved. We were mostly out of Caer Darrow when the explosion happened. Hector tossed Jolane out of the way of a rock and nearly got smooshed, I took a shard of stone to the shoulder, and Khadros didn’t get hit at all.

Apparently, there were a great number of those orbs beneath the grate in the basement where the cultist exploded, and they somehow became activated, destroying the building. We can surmise that these orbs were intended for destructive use, and posit that perhaps our somewhat fumbled actions in the area might be a setback for cultist activity.

We reported back to the groundskeeper and went our separate ways

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She strode with an easy swagger, thumbs looped casually in her belt and lips pulled back in a wide smirking grin, as was her usual habit. Eyes half lidded, she scanned the crowd through the busy Trade district, a bushy eyebrows raising as her gaze lingered on one of the bright yellow flying serpents that had recently made an appearance- and didn’t have the decency to disappear again.

It was a fine sort of day, the kind that led to making new friends- a pasttime Ash never gave up on, as her friends had a tendancy to run off to go get themselves killed. She wasn’t sure what it was about her that made folk want to take off and do stupid dangerous shit, but she didn’t like it. The odds were in her favor that eventuallyshe would come across someone who wasn’t looking to die, right?

Still, though the sun was shining and birds were singing and ol’ Hobs was begging for coin, everyone seemed in a rush. A pity, really- she had a week’s worth of pay burning a hole in her pocket, and she didn’t feel like being responsible with it.

With a tuneless song humming in her throat, she dodged a waddling drake and skittered past a mechanized Chopper, pausing only to eye it longingly before continuing onward with a rueful wrinkle of her nose-I ain’thatgood wi’ coin. How th’fock’d Indi get’n?

However, all thoughts of envy abruptly vanished from her mind’s eye as she stop dead in her tracks and gawked.

The action nearly got her trampled by an elekk rampaging out of control of the young draenei atop it, but she barely noticed as it barrelled past straight into a fruit cart. Not even the furious (and inventive) swearing of the vendor caught her attention; she was fixated.

In the window of a nearby shop, the vaguely person-shaped figure was adorned in dark leathers, black and red, engraved all over with intricate whorls and designs. Ash tentatively stepped forward, scarcely breathing as a thrill of excitement surged up her spine, calloused fingertips reaching to brush the glass between herself and the armor in an almost loving sort of way.

“Tha’s et… Tha’s th’ One…” She whispered, lost in her own thoughts as the stuttering young draenei was punched out by the furious fruit vendor and his elekk reared and trumpeted.

Moments later, she had stepped into the shop and deposited her hefty sack of gold on the counter, staring the shop owner down with stern yellow eyes as she pointed wordlessly at the magnificent outfit.

The strangely effeminate dwarf man looked between the sack and Ashtivar, raising a plucked eyebrow at her. “… it won’t fit you. You’re too fat.” His lips pursed, words flat.

Ashtivar’s features contorted around a growl. “Et -has- tae!” She insisted, still a bit breathless and giddy. “S’-mean’- fer me, ye nae kin feel m’future tharr?! I’m feelin’ et an’ yer dumb assa rock if ye ain’ feel et tae!”

The dwarf stared her down- a remarkable feat for someone two thirds her height. “Look in the mirror, then look at my magnificent suit. It was made for someone with aslenderphysique, small boned- delicate, like a bird. Now look back in the mirror. You don’t look like a bird to me.”

Ashtivar squinted her eyes at the man, then screwed her features and abruptly-

There was a god damn bird standing in his shop, staring him down. She squawked, and the dwarf looked extremely unimpressed, folding his arms across his slender chest and staring down his nose at her. After a moment, nose wrinkling as though the contents might have come from a horse’s hind end, he turned to pull the strings of the satchel she’d placed on the counter, eying the coin inside with one eyebrow raising.

Ashtivar fluffed her feathers importantly and canted her head.

The dwarf rolled his eyes. “This would be enough for the outfit, sure, but I’m not selling it to you to have someone -butcher- my masterpiece. The answer is no. You’retoo big.”

She growled briefly in frustration, having already bent her form to that of a woman again, and folded her arms.

“I’ll double et, y’-make- et fit.”

This paused the dwarf, and he pursed her lips, eyes narrowed, arms still folded.  The two regarded each other in silence, before he rolled his eyes and exhaled a long-suffering sigh.

“-Fine-. I’ll -make- it fit, for twice the fee. An artist like myself can work with-” Here he eyed her, wincing as he took in the antlers dangling from her head, the tangled hair, the scuffed, torn, and oft-stained leathers-

“A broken canvas. Hell, if I can make you look good, I can make anything look good. Now quit glaring at me and hold still. I’ve got to take your measurements.”

Two hours later, Ash gasped and staggered into the sunlight of the trade district, brushing herself off from the indignities she’d just been subjected to.

“S’worth et tho’.” She grumbled to herself, scowling down at the cobbles and scuffing a boot over them.

Her scowl didn’t last long.

Soon. Soon she was going to have a new set of leathers.

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Wolf dreams (NSFW)

Ash dreams and uses inappropriate language, then there’s graphic grossness. Not safe for work because she’s vulgar and this got disturbing real quick; you wouldn’t want your boss reading this.


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