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 Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]

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Magyk
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PostSubject: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Mon Dec 14, 2009 10:37 pm

Suggested music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHMQDffmZkE

Part 1: Fruition

The light of morning touched the peak of Sunfury Spire, and Magyk awoke in his office above the Bazaar, having fallen asleep yet again, to a sharp knocking on his door. After stumbling around his desk, his eyes still drooped, he yanked the door open to tell whoever it was to bugger off, only to be quite rudely shoved aside as Grand Magister Rommath swept into the room, glancing at Magyk with some confusion as his eyes travelled to Magyk’s hair, which was somewhat disfigured after spending several hours plastered across a desk. Magyk’s expression darkened further as Rommath unceremoniously dumped himself into Magyk’s high backed throne of mahogany and proceeded to glance down at the present documents. Kicking the door closed with a slam, he stormed up to the desk and swept an arm across the desk, the papers vanishing as his hand passed over them. He leant on the desk, glaring across at the Grand Magister.

“You’re in my seat Rommath...” He said, to which he received a grunt. Nevertheless, Rommath stood and the two sorcerers swapped places, Magyk resuming his seat while the Magister leaned over his desk with his best expression to look intimidating. Unperturbed, Magyk leaned back and folded his arms, waiting for Rommath to speak. “I’m assuming this is important to be disturbing me at this hour...I believe you’re usually in a drunken stupor around this time....” Magyk was pleased to see his supposed superior’s brow furrow in anger, still a little annoyed that Rommath had burst unannounced into his office. Both Magyk and Rommath had hated each other with a passion since long before the fall of Quel’thalas. They both sought to end the other’s power in the most cunning way possible, it had become something of a contest. The betrayal of their so-called Prince, and Rommath’s close relationship with him, had given Magyk much pleasure as the Magister’s name was called into question, but was dismayed to learn nothing had changed after he was investigated. Magyk was sure today was one of Rommath’s plans coming to fruition, and his blood pressure rose slightly as Rommath continued to scrutinise him from across the expanse of his desk. Magyk feigned boredom and conjured his documents back and began writing again. “When you’re finished sucking that lemon I’ll be right here....” He smirked slightly, but didn’t look up, a few strands of his blonde hair falling across his face, hiding the smile. He could hear the Grand Magister breathing heavily, the smell of expensive wine drifting around the room. Magyk began to wonder how big a flame there would be if he set Rommath’s breath alight when he finally deigned to speak.

“It would appear....that congratulations are in order for you....Sunwing...” Magyk had no doubt the venom in his voice could have felled a Northrend mammoth, and didn’t look up just in case looks could actually kill. His great-uncle Figment had supposedly died from a look, and Magyk wasn’t that keen to become the second Sunwing to fall to such a fate. Instead he doodled on a piece of parchment, the letter’s ‘C.B.’ appearing from the end of his dragonhawk feather quill. Absorbed in embellishing these letters, it was over a minute before he remember his ‘guest’ and asked why he deserved congratulations, to which the Grand Magister replied rather sullenly, and unexpectedly. “Lord Theron....has abdicated...although not actually being King technically he can’t. He has more...stepped down... He has...under a serious lack of judgement, and some pushing by the rest of the Council and the Ranger-General....named you his successor....” Rommath forced the words from his mouth, spraying the desk with spittle. Magyk set a small cloth to wiping his desk and looked up at the other elf, once again looking bored. “If that’s the best you’ve come up with after all this time, you’re losing your touch Rommath....now please, some people actually do this thing called work...so if you’d like to...” Magyk stopped speaking at the sound of another, more military knock, unlike Rommath’s insistent pounding, upon his door. Magyk stood, shooting another glare at Rommath and stepped across the room and opened the door a second time, suddenly bowing low and sweeping his arm wide to admit Lor’themar Theron into his office. Theron stepped over the threshold, and unbeknownst to Magyk, silently asked Rommath why Magyk’s hair was such a mess by pointing at his head and then at Magyk, mouthing the words. Rommath, his arms now folded and expression as sour as ever, shrugged, his face now bearing the universal expression for the words ‘I don’t know and I don’t care’. Theron too walked around Magyk’s desk, but stood by the empty hearth with his arms behind his back as Magyk closed the door with a little more diginity and resumed his seat yet again, waiting for their leader to speak. After several seconds, the Regent turned and addressed Magyk directly.

“No doubt that Rommath has told you the good news...my Lord...” Theron bowed in time with Magyk’s jaw dropping, whilst Magyk looked at Rommath. Later he could swear several years were shaved off his life expectancy with the blazing fury of Rommath’s scowl. Magyk stood slowly, and as he did, the sun reached a point to begin shining through the window, and he was silhouetted in the red glass. Theron and Rommath shielded their eyes instinctively at the sun’s glare, and when they looked back, Magyk was grinning, a mix of regal pride and boyish glee, that at last, Quel’thalas would have a suitable King.


Last edited by Magyk on Mon Sep 20, 2010 3:05 am; edited 21 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Tue Dec 15, 2009 12:14 pm

Great story as always - and actually this would be fun to rp in-game. It would only need buy-in from the small regular Silvermoon rp community for it to work.... Very Happy

Then again, Magyk acts as if he runs Silvermoon already!
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Tue Dec 15, 2009 5:09 pm

/agree

*starts plotting*
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Sat Dec 19, 2009 7:02 pm

Suggested music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8L-Bk28Ra6Q

Part 2: Ascension

Magyk Sunwing stood in the centre of the throne room of Sunfury Spire, in ancient ceremonial robes of crimson silk embossed with thread spun by the most expert tailors, craftsmanship long since lost in time. Around him, nobles, Magisters, Blood Knight Masters and Farstrider Captain’s were chatting amongst themselves. Lord’s Rommath, Brightwing and Theron stood talking to Magyk himself, or rather, Brightwing and Theron did, Rommath opting to stare at Magyk with his new trademark scowl. Magyk was resolutely ignoring him, and smiled and nodded at the right moments during Theron’s talking without actually listening to anything he said, a curious skill taught to him by his father.

The faint sound of grunting echoed through the room as a contingent of Orcs and Trolls appeared in the doorway to the library occupied by the Magi trainers, Zor Lonetree at it’s head. They walked purposefully through the crowd, stopping and bowing before Magyk. “Throm-Ka, Majesty. The Warchief sends his congratulations and apologies that he could not attend himself...the Alliance is making advances that require his attention...”. Magyk smiled and nodded to the Orc. “That’s quite alright Mr Lonetree, the Warchief’s time is far more valuable than my own...” You savage beasts...the sooner you’re out of my city the better...

The guards at the entrance to the Court of the Sun stepped aside as the Orgrimmar delegation joined the throng and several Tauren entered, making their way through the room. Magyk received another bow, and gave another smile before speaking. “Baine....so glad you could come...how is your father?”. Baine blinked before replying. “He is well my Lord, and wishes for you to know An’she and Mu’sha, the eyes of the Earthmother, shine upon you.” Morons’, praying to your ancient gods, your religion has no place in my kingdom...

The Tauren moved off, as a smell of decay wafted around the room, and looking up behind the throne Magyk saw that a small delegation from the Undercity had arrived, as well as the Banshee Queen herself at the head of the group. The crowd parted reverently to let the former Ranger-General pass before them, and as she reached Magyk she bowed her head. “The Forsaken and I gladly acknowledge you as the new King of Quel’thalas...may your days be blessed by the Sunwell.” Once again, Magyk smiled and gestured to a point close to him, which Sylvanas took loyally. You, Lady Windrunner ,and your undead, are the Sin’dorei’s only true allies...You alone will be allowed to keep a token presence in Quel’thalas....

Magyk took his place on the new raised dais that housed the throne, turning and seating himself, at long last, on his throne. He looked around at the Horde delegates, which their serene smiles. The nobility, their adoration displayed upon their faces. Magyk smirked as he saw the distaste of Baine Bloodhoof at being placed next to the Forsaken party, then he grimaced as a large flap of skin from one of the Forsaken fell forward revealing the remains of the poor man’s internal organs. He directed his eyes across to the other side of the room, where those he considered friends were gathered.

Arli stood, looking rather out of place, in his usual leathers, having been relieved of his array of knives and daggers at the entrance to the palace. Next to him, Catari Bladesinger smiled up at him, radiant even in her armour, her long hair draping her neck. Her left hand moved slightly, catching Magyk’s attention, and he tried to remain expressionless as she brushed hands with the woman next to her. Alathereal too had chosen to appear in her armour, the tabard of the Blood Knights emblazoned across her chest. She gave Magyk a curt nod before whispering something to Catari, but by then Magyk had spied Hecaté Wavedancer in the natural green’s of the Farstriders. The slight figure of Jaelen Sunwhisper was next, wearing Magisterial robes embellished with golden thread, and holding his arm was his grand-daughter, Xondra, wearing a simple white dress.

Far away, bells tolled the hour over the city, and Lor’themar Theron stepped forward and stood beside the seated Magyk, addressing the audience. “We have gathered today to celebrate a great event, one that I am sure will herald in a new age for the Sin’dorei. At last, we shall have a King again, and we can move forward from the terrible events of our past. A King that will lead us back to greatness.” Lor’themar turned to Magyk and bowed before continuing, speaking solely to Magyk now, his voice still echoing around the hall.

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of the Eversong Woods, the Ghostlands, the Isle of Quel’danas, and of your Possessions and other Territories to any of them belonging or pertaining, according to their respective laws and customs?"
"I solemnly promise so to do." Magyk could not help but smile.
"Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?"
"I will."
"Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the Laws of Quel’thalas? Will you maintain and preserve inviolable the settlement of the Kingdom of Quel’thalas, and the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government thereof, as by law established in Silvermoon? And will you preserve unto the Magisters, and to the Sancta there committed to their charge, all such rights and privileges, as by law do or shall appertain to them or any of them?"
Magyk spoke easily, the words flowing from his mouth as they had many times since he had learned them decades ago. "All this I promise to do. The things which I have here before promised, I will perform, and keep. By the Sunwell."

Magyk opened his hands, palms upwards, and a shimmering orb of glass, filled with a swirling vortex of arcane power banded with thin strands of gold appeared in his right hand. In his left he clutched a gold rod with bands of gemstones, surmounted by a phoenix, eyes glowing with an inner fire. As the two ancient artifacts glowed, the crown of Quel’thalas, to the astonishment of everyone in the room bar Magyk floated down from where it had appeared several feet above the crowd, and rested itself upon Magyk’s golden hair. Rommath blinked rapidly several times, his jaw hanging loosely as he tried to comprehend the seemingly divine return of the crown and it’s choosing of Magyk. As Lor’themar turned back to the crowd and yelled “Sunwell save the King!” the cry was echoed by everyone in the room, and, after several seconds, could be heard in the Court of the Sun as the general populace applauded in the direction of the palace.

Magyk stood, the rod and orb vanishing as quickly as they had appeared, and he walked with purpose to the palace door and stepped out into the sunlight coming to a halt just short of the gentle incline down to the Court. He gazed down at his public and held his arm out to his sides loosely and clicked his fingers. A pillar of fire snaked from each palm and arched far above his head, encircling each other until it exploded into a thousand golden sparks. As the sparks died and the crowd below looked down towards their King once more, Magyk called to them, his lips curled into the smuggest of smiles. “Welcome....to the age....of Magyk....”


Last edited by Magyk on Mon Jun 07, 2010 7:31 pm; edited 2 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Sun Dec 20, 2009 9:45 am

*awsome overload*
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Sun Dec 20, 2009 12:53 pm

HAHA i gotta love these writings Magyk. we should all post tickets to Blizz to make Magyk king when Cataclysm hits us Razz
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Mon Dec 21, 2009 12:51 pm

I so love these stories of Magyk. You have such a well developed personality for him.

Where is the next one? I'm waiting... *taps foot*
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Wed Dec 23, 2009 1:56 am

I've hidden stuff into this part. 20g to the person who gets the film, 40g to the person who gets the game. There are 3 clues to the identity of the film, only one to do with the game. You have to tell me the clues too, but don't post them here, let others have a go. Have fun Smile

Suggested music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UBsblt-YFGE

Part 3: Settling In
A month later, noon found Magyk surrounded by Magister’s upon the Walk of Elders, supervising the replacement of the statue’s of Kael’thas at the gates to statues that portrayed Magyk himself in a variety of heroic and magical poses. People milled around as the image of their new King was wrought from the huge piece of stone in front of them, taking only a fraction of the time it would take a dwarf mason with a little help of the arcane. Wearing flowing robes of green velvet today, Magyk listened to the aptly named morning report from his newly appointed majordomo, the young Magistrix Zazulia Sunborne, an attractive young blonde who had single-handedly sorted the palace archives within 24 hours, a feat that Magyk himself could not achieve, even if he had concentration enough to try.

“Reconstruction of the Outer Elfgate proceeds faster than expected Majesty. Reports suggest it should be fully operational within the month. The Orb of Translocation has been moved from the palace to the newly constructed pavilion near the Silvermoon Registry as per your orders, and we’ve received news that runestone’s are operating to the best of their capacity. Quel’thalas is become safer than it ever has done under your guidance.” She allowed herself a rare smile, almost immediately replaced by her usual stern yet fair demeanour that was usually only found in Human teachers as she went on to other matters concerning the welfare of the kingdom. Magyk listened with rapt attention, suggesting or ordering something new every so often.

Two hours later, Magyk sat upon his throne, or rather, his back was upon the seat, his legs resting upright on the back, his long hair flowing onto the floor, his view of the world upside down. He looked out into the Court as three people entered. Theron had returned to the Farstrider’s under Brightwing. Rommath was wondering around Silvermoon on endless, and meaningless, tasks set by Magyk. Magyk swung around and stood up to greet his guests.

“Brightwing, Theron....Rommath....you obviously all received my summons. Brightwing, loyal Brightwing, you have served well since my coronation, and for years before that you have performed outstandingly as our Ranger-General. For that, I am willing to allow you to take full control of the Thalassian Army, if you would, to better serve Quel’thalas in the days to come...What say you?” Brightwing looked only mildly surprised, but smiled and bowed without hesitation. “That is most kind of you Majesty, but I fully believe that the way I am best to serve our Kingdom is by continuing to act as Ranger-General.” Magyk thought for a moment, nodded in acceptance, and turned to the former Regent.

“Theron, you have long been able to communicate to other people’s well. It is for this reason I offer you the newly created post of Grand Emissary of Quel’thalas, a...diplomatic role. I wish only for peace in the world, and hope you shall help me accomplish that.” Theron was silent for several seconds. “Majesty, I will accept my new charge. I had forgotten how ‘physical’ the Farstrider’s are, it seems I am....past my prime. Where would you have me go?”
Magyk blinked. “Firstly, to Dalaran. Speak with Archmage Rhonin, privately if possible. Tell him of Silvermoon’s intention to try and make peace with the Alliance. Gauge his reaction, and from there travel to Lady Proudmore’s seat at Theramore. I am sure she will be hospitable, even if her subjects will view you with distrust. I am authorising you to take a small contingent of Magister’s with you. All going well, I’d then like you to proceed to...”
Magyk stopped short at the loud cough from Rommath. His scowl was now permanently stuck onto his face. “Might I remind you, Majesty, that the Horde we now belong to will not allow this blatant attempt to undermine our Warchief. Orgrimmar will be in uproar, baying for our blood, and you will be the cause of it all. We would not survive an attack by the combined might of the Horde.”

Magyk smiled sweetly at Rommath, a smile that quite clearly said ‘It’s not your fault you’re an idiot’. “Which brings me onto your future Rommath. You’re fired....” Magyk let forth an involuntary chuckle, which he quickly quelled. Rommath’s skin bypassed red and shot on to become a furious shade of puce, which Magyk thought would make a very nice robe colour if matched with mint-green trim.

“But....but...you can’t do that!” Rommath’s voice echoed around the room. Magyk looked genuinely confused for a moment, before quite slowly reaching up and feeling the golden circlet adorning his head. After nodding to himself, he grinned at Rommath and pointed to the crown. “King.” He almost whispered the word, delighted to see Rommath about to explode with anger. “Yes, Magister Sunwhisper will be overtaking your duties for now, circle of life and all that...as for the Horde...it can hang for all I care. Thrall preaches peace, but insists on putting mentally disturbed fools in positions of command, idiots who push and push the Alliance into retaliating. It’s a bloody small mercy Varian hasn’t pulled out of Northrend and assaulted our borders! Hellscream is a cretin, Thrall even more so for not having him put down. We’re better off without the lot of them. Well, except perhaps the Forsaken. They understand what it is to lose...everything...” Magyk sighed loudly before drawing the conversation to a close. “Gentlemen, you have your orders. Myself, I have things that desire my attention, if you’ll excuse me...”

After much bowing and thanking from Theron and Brightwing, and a half-hearted genuflection from Rommath, Magyk watched them leave the palace, then he ascended one of the many spiral staircase’s and promptly got lost, finding himself in a large, round room with an illuminated pedestal in the center. Suspended from the ceiling are hundreds of shards of glass. A golden plaque on the wall announced this was the Step of Silence. Even after a month, he had not explored the palace to it’s fullest extent, something which he though he really ought to get around to as he retraced his steps and finally found his way to a large rotunda with a huge window with a beautiful unbroken view North, out of which Magyk could just glimpse his next construction project, the Sunwell Plateau. He tore his gaze from the window and smiled at Magistrix Sunborne, who was seated behind her desk scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment, whilst several quills quivered elsewhere on the desk, all working in tandem to get Zazulia’s job done faster. Magyk wasn’t sure she had heard him enter until she stopped writing and threw down her quill and tilted her head up to smile at her King.

“Majesty, how can I help you?” Even with the enormous amount of work, she still managed to look relaxed, and genuinely seemed happy to receive more work. “Zazulia, could you be a dear and organise a feast for next week perhaps? Wednesday would be perfect. I don’t care about the expense, I just want to make sure everyone in my kingdom is there...” Magyk managed to stop himself grinning. Soon, oh, so soon, everyone will bow to my will. His thoughts were interrupted as the Magistrix began speaking. “Sir, if you were to call the entire kingdom, that would leave our defences in tatters, not to mention the money the State would lose if we were to declare that the store’s were all closed, even for a day. And although the construction of the Outer Elfgate is partly magical, I calculate a sixty-two percent decrease in productivity, that would put completion of the project back by an entire week. Then there’s....” Magyk waved his hand dismissively. “Nevermind that now, just do it, I’m sure the Forsaken forces stationed in Tranquillan will be able to manage for a few hours....” He smiled apologetically as he walked around the desk and stood next to the young elf and looked down at the papers across her desk. “Keeping busy I see, orders for the guards, weapon inventories, cloth prices, wine production....even I couldn’t manage all that...” Magyk brushed the girls hand as he reached for her quill, and she instinctively snatched her hand away. Magyk didn’t notice, already sweeping the quill across several documents, signing three execution orders and a banishment notice in quick succession. With another nod, several strands of hair falling in front of his eyes as he did so, he left the room without a word. He didn’t notice Zazulia delicately touch the back of her hand where Magyk brushed it and blush. Nor did he pay attention to where he was going, and found himself lost again, this time in a hall filled with stuffed animals, from dragonhawks to a curious lion with a scar over it’s left eye. Getting agitated, again he turned back and found his way to Sunborne’s office, where he leaned around the doorframe and snapped “And make a bloody map of this place!”


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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Wed Dec 23, 2009 2:37 am

Ha! No idea on the clues at all... but an entertaining post, none the less!
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Thu Dec 31, 2009 2:30 am

Part 4: ‘Diplomacy’ is currently undergoing an overhaul. Be patient, or I'll have you slain.


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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Thu Dec 31, 2009 2:05 pm

Blimy. The plot thickens...

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Skeleton in the closet.
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Sat Jan 23, 2010 5:03 am

Sorry about the delay, but my writing hasn't exactly felt right lately. Anyway, hope you enjoy this, and the next installment is almost done Smile

Suggested music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQi96M_zvyM&feature=related

Part 4: To Kill A King

The elf silently loaded the specially crafted pistol with a single bullet.

“Our defences shall stand for a hundred generations! Whilst in my Kingdom, you will have nothing to fear, and let it be known that if any denizens of my realm have any questions or troubles, the newly formed Ministry of Tranquillity will...quell your hearts.” Magyk smiled down at the congregation standing in the Court of the Sun, his arms spread wide in a gesture of openness and humility. As he drew his speech to a close, the crowd covering the stone plaza erupted in to a frenzy of clapping and cheers. After the noise had died down, he and the delegation surrounding him on the balcony, retreated into the shady confines of the palace, and descended to a room off the Throne Room, where there was a middle-aged elf looking awestruck at the ceiling, where thousands of pieces of illuminated glass portrayed a phoenix rising from the flames. Magyk coughed quietly, and smirked as the elf jumped and fumbled with the palette of paints he was holding.

The elf made his way to the Northern edge of the Bazaar, and began ascending.

Half an hour later, the Elven artist had finished the portrait with the aid of magic, and the painting was already on it’s way to be framed, enlarged, and finally, to rest in the portrait gallery. Kael’thas’ own painting had been torn down after his betrayal, and until that point there was an empty space on the wall. As the painted Magyk made it’s way upstairs, the real version descended into the bowels of the palace, where a thief, who had been caught trying to steal from the palace the day after Magyk’s coronation, was still being held. He continued past the cells, knowing full well his thief’s temporary home was in the laboratory housed in a now disused part of the dungeons. As he entered the large chamber dominated by glass tubes and vials filled with swirling liquids of varying colour and smell, he gagged as the pungent aromas of rotting flesh and excrement fought to assault his senses first. He slammed his hand to his nose and gripped it tightly, hurriedly grabbing one of the facemasks by the door and wrapping it around his head tightly, the magic within filling his nostrils with the smell of orange and chocolate.

The elf reached the skyline, and clambered onto the roof of Keelen’s Trustworthy Tailoring, the proceeded to make his way along the roofline of the Western edge of the Court of the Sun.

Magyk wandered through the laboratory, curious about the many experiments that seemed to be happening throughout. He nodded at several apothecary’s, who Magyk had pilfered from the Royal Society through a generous donation to the Undercity treasury. Stopping at the end of the room, he came across the failed thief, unconscious, his body battered, bruised and burnt where the Forsaken had been experimenting on him. Magyk looked to the head of the laboratory, a crazed little man called Doctor Cavendish, who advanced on the sleeping elf with a large vial of sparkling blue liquid which he poured directly into his victim’s mouth. The elf impulsively retched, trying to expel the liquid that was already violating his internal organs, changing them, mutating them into something else entirely. The king and Forsaken watched with awe, fascination, and a little fear, as the thief threw his eyes open and screamed in agony. His body contorted violently as his bones elongated, burning with alchemical fire, his blood being infused with the magic in the liquid. His muscles rippled, and his eyes changed from bright, fel green to deep crimson to bright white, and finally, shooting down the spectrum to pitch black.

The elf muttered a few words in the direction of a window, which unlatched and swung open. The elf climbed carefully into a long corridor and hid in the shadows, walking towards a golden door at the end.

The thief stood uncertainly, struggling to remain upright as his mind tried to comprehend his taller, muscular figure. He stumbled forward towards Magyk, who stood his ground. The tall elf shimmered, and all but his left arm vanished for a moment before resuming full formed. Magyk raised his eyebrow at Doctor Cavendish, who merely shrugged. Cavendish then silently pointed at a cage in the far corner, where a human sat, looking sullenly out through the bars. The thief looked down at the husk in the cage for a moment, before tearing at the iron bars, attacking the captured male in a mad frenzy. Magyk looked on, both in awe and sickened at the Forsaken creation. When the thief had finished his task, he stumbled, and after several seconds of leaning dangerously towards a workbench covered in glass vials full of various liquids, fell heavily onto the table he had originally been lying on. After several quiet words with Cavendish, Magyk nodded in understanding and turned on his heel, striding out of the laboratory without a word. He climbed high to his study, a huge room that contained a small library, as well as yet more artefacts of Silvermoon’s past. He sat behind his desk for perhaps a minute before looking up, glancing around the room in suspicion. It was only then that he saw what was wrong. The bodies of the two guards who should have been standing outside the door had been dumped behind a highborne orrery. Magyk stood, his eyes sweeping the room for any form of movement, muttering demonic. It was as the lumbering darkness of a voidwalker hove into view that an elf dropped from where he had been clinging to the sculptured ceiling and landed in front of the king, took fast aim, and shot the Lord of the Blood Elves. And ran.


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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Tue Jan 26, 2010 2:17 am

Suggested music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zIzy3laQck

Part 5: Restoration and Renovation

King Magyk Sunwing stood upon the very tip of Sunfury Spire, looking out across his kingdom. Standing up here, where he felt he was born to be, he watched as the Magister’s below lifted huge blocks of peach coloured marble into place and fused it with the surrounding blocks, effectively building another spire from one large cylinder. No longer were there decaying buildings to the west, instead, newly erected pavilions and commons halls shone like beacons in the large grassy expanse of the Western half of the city. The dead scar, which had cleaved the city in half with it’s shadow had been seeped in water drawn from the Sunwell and the earth was slowly beginning to return to normal thanks to the water’s Naaru-blessed powers. The Magister’s Gate had been restored at the main entrance to the city, and the destruction that had previous blocked one half of the city from the other had been painstakingly repaved and named Sovereign Way, a grand boulevard that sliced the city in half and branched off to the Bazaar, Sungazer Gardens, as Western Silvermoon was now known, and the new main, and distinctly more grand, entrance to the palace. Magyk’s scarlet robes whipped around his form, a small flame of cloth between the huge golden wings that crowned the palace. He looked around as a figure in white appeared beside him. Zazulia Sunborne had proven herself by far the most brilliant Majordomo over the past weeks, settling Magyk’s whimsical thoughts and caring for his Kingdom without question.

“It’s time, Majesty...” She spoke in barely a whisper, yet Magyk heard her clearly despite the wind that was raging around them both. Before Magyk had time to reply, she had drifted away inside, away from the cold, Magyk presumed, and he looked out over Silvermoon once more before following her, admiring the many spires that predated him, and the few that didn’t. He stepped inside the central tower of the palace and walked to a burnished golden disc set into the marble floor, covered in ancient runes. Magyk stepped onto the disc, whispered ‘Hallowed Hall’ and engulfed in a shimmering purple light, reappearing instantly on an identical disc at the end of a long hallway filled with relics from ages long past. Magyk set off, his footsteps echoing down the length of the corridor, past ancient robes, and staffs of power, safely protected by a sheet of magically strengthened glass. Taking a corner at speed, Magyk slid slightly across the floor and flung his arms out to steady himself. After composing himself again, and hurriedly scanning the corridor for anyone who might have witnessed his near fall, he ran his hand over the smooth wall, a section of which slid back on hidden tracks to reveal a set of tight spiral stairs. Magyk descended as fast as his body would allow, his shoulders scraping the walls with every step he took. The wall above slid smoothly back into place, and Magyk was plunged into darkness for a moment, before the ancient crown atop his head began to glow softly, the only light within the jet blackness.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, Magyk emerged in yet around corridor, which led on a gently curving slope down to the Throne Room. Magyk threw himself into the ancient seat of power and leant back, letting his back rest on the hard gold. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander, still, after two months, hardly daring to believe where he was. Magyk heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching the room, and when he heard it paired with the loud scratching of a quill on parchment, he knew Zazulia was about to enter. A few seconds later, sure enough, the Majordomo of Quel’thalas stepped in and stopped writing for a moment, thrown off her train of thought by wondering how on Azeroth the king had gotten to the throne room before her. The thought vanished as quickly as it had come, and Magistrix Sunborne resumed her hurried writing and sat down at Magyk’s left hand.

A few moments later, the telltale sound of teleportation coincided with another addition to the room, newly appointed Grand Magister Jaelen Sunwhisper stepped out of the library looking thoroughly harassed, carrying the heavy smell of incense and what Magyk thought of now as the smell of magic. Although Magyk knew Sunwhisper would prefer to be experimenting in the field, he also recognised the signs that the young elf would be suited to a life surrounded by the deadly dance of politics. His long robes trimmed with gold and the Sunwing crest emblazoned on his chest, a crown of purest silver adorning his golden hair. Jaelen strode across the room and planted himself in the seat on Magyk’s right.

It wasn’t until the sound of a trumpeted fanfare did Magyk deign to open his eyes. Magyk watched as a small procession made its way to the centre of the room and spread out into a line, where all but one bowed simultaneously. Magyk glanced at the Elf who had hesitated, and smirked as he looked into the eyes of Arli Sunblade. Magyk stood and walked along the line, examining the Elves in turn, until he reached Arli, slack-jawed and staring at Magyk as if he’d seen a ghost. Magyk returned with a smile, and then began walking back along, again examining. When he reached the far left, he turned pointed at five Elves and then gestured to take their leave. They didn’t make it out of the palace alive. Silently, invisible hands grabbed each of the failures and were hurriedly taken below ground to be killed on the King’s orders. No one must be allowed to know what he was planning. Not yet.

Magyk stood and stared at each of the three remaining Elves in turn. “You were each contacted, and offered tremendous wealth and power, to kill someone in my palace...you did not know who, you were merely told where they would be. You...” He pointed to the red haired elf on the right, dressed in dark armour, “...decided to waltz in the main door and proceeded to confuse my guards with tales of an important message from Lady Windrunner whilst making your way into the bowels of my palace, only getting so far as the door to my study. You...” He pointed at Arli, “...chose to disguise yourself with the palace servants, as they started their duties in the morning. A very nice plan, if you hadn’t have hidden in the wrong room and almost killed an unsuspecting Sunwhisper...” He glanced back at the Grand Magister, who sat with his arms folded, and returned Magyk’s smirk. “And finally, you.” His pointed finger drifted to the blonde elf in the centre of the trio. “You traversed the roofs of the city and used weak magic to penetrate the walls of my fortress, a window, my guards thought, that needed little protection. You then proceeded not only to single-handedly murder two of my personal guard, you did so silently, and then rather cunningly waiting in shadows for your target to arrive. Furthermore, you recognised me, but you didn’t hesitate, and actually shot me...” Magyk didn’t seem all that bothered; on the contrary, he seemed in high spirits. “The rest of the delegation who have just left, failed the challenge, didn’t even get into the palace... You three, have given my personal guard concerns for palace security, and for that I thank you all...I also have a request, which you are free to decline, but please, hear what I have to say. If you’d like to follow Miss Sunborne...” Magyk signalled to the Grand Magister, and swept around the trio and headed off on a long route through the palace to his study followed by the shuffling footsteps of Jaelen Sunwhisper, who hurried close behind Magyk like a faithful hound. Magyk didn’t stop walking as he spoke his desired location to the golden plate and took one step in one place and the next in the corridor outside his study, which he unlocked as Jaelen appeared behind him and stepped silently into the office of the king for the first time.

Magyk made his way around his desk and looked down on the Court of the Sun, where even now a huge block of marble had been place where the fountain had stood, and was being slowly chiselled away to reveal a likeness of the monarch. Jaelen stood at his shoulder, gazing down on this new view of the city, awestruck at just how much the city had been restored to it’s former glory. A few minutes later, a polite knock at the door told the two magi their guests had arrived, and Magyk settled into his high-backed expanse of mahogany as Jaelen took his usual loyal space at his shoulder, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, before loudly announcing the would-be assassin’s could enter.

First came Majordomo Sunborne, whom Magyk unexpectedly tilted his head at slightly, the way the light caught her lips....anyway. She was followed quickly by Dal’thon Suntouched, the red-head, Alarius Firebrand, the blonde, and a few moments later, a shifty looking Arli Sunblade, completing the set with his black hair. Each bowed in turn, and Magyk’s vizier stepped behind his desk and handed his a sheaf of parchment, listing various details of each ‘candidate’. Magyk only glanced at them before scrutinising the trio across the desk. “First of all, what I am about to say does not leave this room, or, you know, terrible things will happen and all that...I require...a guild, which specialises in silent, difficult, and perhaps killings of...questionable legality. Even I am subject to the laws of this wretched Horde, and as such cannot officially put contracts on our own... You three have proven to be moderately capable at your profession, and therefore have first refusal to become the Heads of this new order. Before you answer, let me tell you that you will each be given a handsome salary, a magnificent centre of operations in the heart of the city, and any equipment you deem to be necessary in the training of my little troupe.” Magyk smirked across the table, trying to gauge the elves reactions. Arli’s ears had twitched at the prospect of money, Suntouched had shifted his weight around at the mention of a grand headquarters, and Firebrand had raised an eyebrow at the hope of weapons. “You will have diplomatic immunity, to some extent, in the realm of Quel’thalas, as well as the power to recruit anyone from any class, as long as they are adept at their trade. If that is acceptable, I shall have indentures drawn up for each of you...” Suntouched and Firebrand nodded enthusiastically, but Magyk focused his attention on Arli, who looked slightly nervous. Magyk waved everyone out of the room before turning to Sunblade.

“You want to decline because of your insufferable loyalty to Anethrax... but it’s high time you returned to civilised society, Sunblade. You are of somewhat noble stock, and I know life at court has never interested you, but you really haven’t sampled the finer points of the upper class.... Besides, I’m afraid that if you don’t, I’ll be sending this to the Undercity...” Magyk picked up a lilac envelope addressed to Sylvanas Windrunner in enormous looping letters. Arli looked slightly confused for a moment before finally piecing together what the contents would include. Like it or not, it seemed that Arli Sunblade was at his majesty’s command. Arli scowled and made to leave, grasping the handle of the door and wrenching the mahogany panel almost from it’s hinges. He stormed out and along the gently lit corridor, veered right and promptly got lost. Magyk, meanwhile, had made his way to the corner of his study, where a small representation of the city stood atop a table. Magyk watched as in the tiny Court of the Sun, a small statue of himself shimmered into view as the marble version outside was completed. Magyk grinned and began plotted out his next building project, whilst Arli wandered aimlessly around his palace.


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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Wed Feb 10, 2010 7:46 pm

Two years later...

After Deathwing’s return, the realm of Quel’thalas was largely unaffected by the Cataclysm wrought by the mighty Aspect. However, that is not to say the Elven kingdom has not undergone changes. The Silvermoon Assassin Society has become a strong rival of even Stormwind Intelligence, becoming a source of both fear and awe throughout the Horde. Under the rule of King Sunwing, the Magister’s of Silvermoon have seized more power for themselves, leaving both the Blood Knights and the Farstriders in the shade. This in turn has lead to a more magical means of defending the forests of Eversong, and by extension, the two less significant groups have taken on a largely ceremonial role. The Sunwell Plateau has been reconstructed to once again become a true wonder of the world, the end of the dead scar remaining as a tragic reminder of the Elves past.

Silvermoon City still looks far from the bustling metropolis it once was, but is ready for it’s return as the crowning jewel of the Eastern Kingdoms. Whilst some political activists are opposed to King Sunwing’s demands of a complete restoration, preferring to have some reminder of their losses during the Third War, most Sin’dorei will follow their King’s ideals, and the Sunwing’s reign shows no real signs of ending soon.

The Horde has seen changes as well. Garrosh Hellscream, much to Sylvanas and Magyk’s disapproval, has taken up the mantle of Warchief, and his continuing distrust of anyone non-Orcen has not endeared him to his fellow leaders. Having returned from Northrend, Garrosh has expanded Orgrimmar’s influence well into Ashenvale and Azshara, leaving the other races of the Horde to somewhat fend for themselves.

The Alliance, still under the steady hand of King Varian Wrynn, has lost not only Ashenvale, but Gilneas, the most recent addition to the Human’s ranks, has been under continuous siege by the Forsaken. The savagery of the Worgen has held the line against the Deathstalkers and Apothercaries and forced both sides into a bitter stalemate, constantly fighting over the Gilnean capital.
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Sun Feb 14, 2010 2:40 am

Suggested music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JE2muDZksP4

Part 6 : The Beginning...

In the grand ballroom of Sunfury Spire, soft orchestral music was playing whilst a young blonde elf sang with crystalline beauty. The ceiling was a carpet of midnight blue, punctured by glittering stars, whilst banners bearing the king’s seal fluttered gently on the walls, hanging above long tables littered with a plethora of food and drink. The nobility of Silvermoon were waltzing around the circular hall, forgetting for the evening the troubles of the world. In the centre of the room, revolving slowly in time with the music, Magyk Sunwing and Sylvanas Windrunner were quietly discussing matters of the last few years.
“...I have the greatest respect for you Sylvanas, you know I do. But the fact remains that the world cannot go on the way it has been. Hellscream will be the death of us all and I for one will not let my kingdom fall when I can quite easily do something about it... Ever since the Wrathgate, your beautiful Undercity has been in Orgrimmar’s pocket, only made worse by the fact we have a neurotic idiot now in power... He’ll never trust you dear...you know this...” Magyk quietened as they pair came close to the side of the room where the Orc ‘ambassador’, a huge brute who looked like he struggled with clothing himself, was stood glowering at the formal festivilties. As Magyk swung Sylvanas back to the centre of the room, narrowly missing Catari and Ala, who still drew dark looks from a crowd over their relationship, he struck up the conversation again. “What I suggest is radical, but we both know it is necessary. It’s one of the reasons you were invited tonight, not that you would not have received the invitation had we not needed to discuss the future. I cannot risk sending you a missive that might be intercepted by one of those despicable Kor’kron...But enough of this talk now... we will discuss it more after the ball.” Sylvanas nodded and smiled, still retaining some of her elfin beauty through death.

After several hours of dancing, talking and eating more food than anyone would consider healthy, Magyk found Sylvanas chatting to Halduron Brightwing and Lor’themar Theron about ‘the good old days’, to whom she bid a gracious farewell before being swept around the edge of the now emptying dance floor. Magyk started as he spotted Zazulia Sunborne being lead in a slow dance with a tall dark haired elf. As she spotted the king, both Magyk and his majordomo looked away hurriedly, and Magyk took Sylvanas’ arm, propelling her across the rest of the room and into the palace proper, only coming to a stop in a room overlooking Sovereign Way. Magyk let Sylvanas reclaim her arm, and clasped his hands behind his back, looking down on his kingdom. A softly glowing incense burner filled the room with the musty slightly magical smell Magyk had become accustomed to and now loved, the moonlight streaming through the windows, casting long shadows over everything in the room. A single bell tolled midnight across the great marble expanse of the city, and as Lady Windrunner stood besides Magyk, she sighed. Magyk turned his head to look at her.

“You miss it don’t you. The city, yes, but mostly you miss the forest. The hunt, the chase, the kill. Protecting the land you called home...” Magyk spoke softly, carefully emphasising certain words, as he wove a small amount of magic into his voice, hoping his words would affect the Banshee Queen as he hoped it would. “Eversong was so full of life then...the trees themselves working with their guardians... Sylvanas... If you could...would you return to protect the lands you once called home?” Magyk remained stoic as the Queen of the Forsaken turned to him, a wave of sadness emanating for her body. Magyk had no doubt that if she could, she would be in tears. Magyk put his arm around Windrunner’s shoulder, and pointed down at the city with his free hand. “You did not fail our kingdom. We have persevered, and we are growing once more, becoming more powerful than ever. Our civilisation has suffered great losses yes, and now we are rebuilding, our glistening city is scarred by being tied to such...such...savage beasts...Beasts that fought against us during the Second War. This is why....the time has come, my dear...that the Sin’dorei will secede from the Horde at our annual conference next month....” Sylvanas’ jaw dropped slightly as she comprehended the breaking of the most sacred of Horde’s laws. Magyk pressed home his point. “I would advise you to do the same...” Magyk let his speech set in before softly stroking Sylvanas’ cheek, deathly cold as it was. When he spoke again, his voice was little more than a whisper. “The things we have seen, you and I, the darkness that has swept this world while we have watched... We have been friends, companions since childhood. I would never lead you wrong... You were my first love... Imagine what good we can bring to this world if we were allied together, stronger than ever before...”

Sylvanas pulled away and hastened towards the door. “I can’t Magyk...I just can’t...I...I have to think...I’m sorry”. Magyk watched as she fumbled with the handle and finally managed to release the catch, hurrying away into the darkness of the corridor, her light footsteps barely more than a whisper. It was a few minutes before Magyk turned to the window once more and watched as the Forsaken delegation departed the Spire. Only then did Magyk smirk.


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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Sat Mar 13, 2010 5:12 am

Suggested music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbd3Cf_okTQ&feature=related

Part 7: The Sun Arises

The sun scorched the red earth of Durotar, as it had for countless years. Dust flew across the flat land, stinging the eyes of any traveller. The familiar screech of vultures, the snapping of scorpid claws and the grunting of swine travelled across the plain to the gates of the capital of the Orcs, and the Horde, as Sun King Magyk Sunwing and Banshee Queen Sylvanas Windrunner proceeded through the great metal-clad entrance to the city, followed by several members of their respective races. Magyk had spent the journey in deep conversation with the Queen, and the elves constant complaining about the rough ride in the zeppelin meant that most of the Forsaken party were glad to be able to separate slightly again. Walking through the city, Magyk glanced around at the distrustful looks from the Orcs and pulled his light silk cape around him, glad at last when they reached the shady reprieve of Grommash Hold, where the Elven party removed their heavy capes they had brought to battle the grim chill of Lordaeron.

Entering the room where the summit was being held, Magyk sneered at the Orcs lining the border of the room, glaring menacingly back at the thin forms of the elves and Forsaken. Magyk held a chair out for Sylvanas, who took it without looking at her fellow monarch, and she sat in stony silence, looking down at the crude wooden surface. Magyk didn’t notice, immediately joining Jaelen and Zazulia at the long table playing host to a half-hearted buffet of grisly meat and small kegs of cheap bear. Magyk picked up a large boar flank and convulsed as a cockroach revealed itself to be hiding under the smoked meat, which one of the Apothecaries, still being watched especially close by the surrounding guards, made a wild grab at the insect, clamping it in his bony hand before biting it in half with a look of sick pleasure.

His appetite long since gone, Magyk sat quite purposefully in the seat set aside for the Chieften of the Tauren tribes, situated directly across from the Warchief’s throne. Jaelen and Zazulia flanked Magyk, the Grand Magister conjuring up two matching Chintz chairs whilst Magyk’s Majordomo drew a heavy sheet of parchment towards her, ever vigilant against the chaos of balancing the good of the people and Magyk’s whim. The King himself glanced around at the Kor’kron Elites, smiling menially at each in turn before turning his attention to the huge Tauren who had just arrived, followed shortly after by the Warchief himself, who glared at Magyk with hatred before dumping himself unceremoniously into his high backed throne.

Several tedious and mostly pointless hours of dispute ensued, with Hellscream pressing his own aims through and letting no one discuss their own problems. Finally, Magyk coughed gently during a long winded speech about expansion into Darkshore, which only got him a guttural growl from the Warchief before he continued. Thoroughly fed up, Magyk stood and leaned over the table, not intimidating to any Orc or Tauren. Sylvanas, however, widened her eyes, recognising the look of determination and anger bubbling under the surface of the Sun King from their childhood.

“Enough....I have an announcement Hellscream...” He spoke through gritted teeth, and was only vaguely pleased to acknowledge silence from the green skinned beast. “Now look here, what I am about to say is not up for discussion. I am leaving this fortress with my advisors, and I will not be returning. This is the end of the Sin’dorei’s partnership with you....you...”
“Be very careful about what you say here Sunwing, after all, if someone were to leave the Horde here, they would become enemies. And in the centre of Orgrimmar, I don’t think any small group would survive...” Magyk only glanced at the Tauren who had spoken before continuing.
“But I am not alone...am I?” Magyk looked at his friend, surrounded by apothecaries and the stench of decay, who stood and shook her head. “No Sunwing, you are not. For too long, the Forsaken have sat in the pocket of Orgrimmar and reaped no reward for our sacrifices. The Undercity will too withdraws its support of the Horde, and instead pledges it’s troops to glory of Quel’thalas!”

It was hard to tell who Hellscream was more enraged at. He gripped the arms of his throne so hard an awful creaking sound filled the room as the arms splintered, and as his eyes filled with fury, he reached for the axe resting by his side. As the hulking form of the warchief stood and brought his axe to bear, he screamed across the table. “TRAITORS! I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF!” And without further ado, the leader of the Orcs leapt onto the wooden surface and ran at Magyk, the vicious edge of his cleaver glinting in the torchlight. Magyk had barely looked to his left before the Grand Magister of Quel’thalas rose to his feet and hurled a lance of arcane power across the room, hitting Garrosh in the chest and launching him back into his throne, his axe now useless, embedded as it was in the table in front of Zazulia, who was wide eyed at the near death experience. Jaelen then turned on the Tauren, rapidly encasing them in freezing ice. It was several moments before anything in the room moved, Garrosh once again rising and pointing accusingly over the room. “Kor’kron! I order you to kill this man!”

Magyk grinned, enjoying himself. “Ah, but there is a new order now.....MY order.” He snapped his fingers, and each Kor’kron Elite fell first to their knees, and then lay spread eagled on the floor, in pools of blood which were steadily growing larger. “Finally, YOU and your filthy race will bow to ME!” Another click of his fingers, and a dozen of Silvermoon’s best assassin’s shimmered into view behind him, each wiping their daggers in unison, cleaning them of Orc blood.
“We will never bow to you...” Garrosh regained control over the use of his arms and legs and leaned against the table, shakily pointing at the elves, who were still grinning manically.
“If you will not bow before a King, THEN YOU WILL COWER BEFORE A SORCEROR!” The temperature in the room dropped fast. Ice formed on the robes of those who were not prepared and crusted thickly around the candles in the ceiling. The glowing flames of each wick shrank and dimmed. The darkened room filled with a sickly fel-green, choking cloud, in which indistinct black shadows writher and roiled. From far away came the sound of many voices screaming. Footsteps from invisible feet came pattering across the floor and invisible mouths whispered wicked things from everywhere.
The cloud contracted into a thick column of smoke that vomited forth thin tendrils; they licked the air like tongues before withdrawing. The column hung above the middle of the table, bubbling ever upwards against the ceiling like the cloud of an erupting volcano. There was barely perceptible pause. Then two green staring eyes materialized in the heart of the smoke. Hands burst from the column, burning emerald fingers clawing across the surface of the table, gouging deep trenches into the wood, crawling towards Garrosh, who began foolishly slamming his own fists down onto the fiery claws. Before he could scream in pain, the many hands were twisting around him, searing his flesh, burning nails digging into his skin, drawing blood than scabbed and crisped instantly. Magyk let forth an involuntary giggle before saying “Enough...” The hands withdrew as fast as they advanced, leaving a severely burnt Garrosh panting and whimpering uncontrollably, utterly broken. Magyk hopped onto his chair and then onto the table, walking straight through the smoke and stopping before the husk that ten minutes before had been a powerful warrior.

“You will not expand any further than you have, anywhere. You will withdraw all of your forces from the Undercity, and leave the shores of the Eastern Kingdoms forever. Any Orc found in the North will be slain on sight, no exceptions.” He leant down and hissed at Garrosh. “At least Thrall was willing to negotiate...but you....all you want is war, death, destruction. Just like your father....a brute.” The Sun King stood again, wiping a speck of dust from his shoulder, and turned, jumping off the table, offering his arm to Sylvanas, smiling. “Shall we my dear?” The Banshee Queen stood too, and took Magyk’s arm, allowing herself to be escorted to where Jaelen had erected a portal through which could be seen the spires of Silvermoon. The royalty of the Northern end of the Eastern Kingdoms stepped through, followed by Sunwhisper and Sunborne, the apothecaries, and the assassins. As the portal snapped shut behind them, the entity in the smoke vanished in a breeze that swept the room, the ice confining the Tauren melted, and Garrosh was left to lick his wounds.

The next day, messages were dispatched to each great city of the world, bearing the new combined seal of Silvermoon and the Undercity, proclaimed a new Empire, neutral to all, and apologising for the wrongs their country’s had commited. King Magni Bronzebeard broke the seal and opened the letter, reading with interest. Varian Wrynn was almost forced to read the message by his advisors, and when he finally did his eyebrows rose to a new height. Nevertheless, he threw the message away. Velen read his message, smiling as another small peace was made, although was not happy at going near the Forsaken. Genn Greymane didn’t read his correspondence, throwing the letter in the fire before going to supervise the rebuilding of the border wall, the Forsaken forces already leaving peacefully. Tyrande Whisperwind paid the message little heed, only barely wondering if the old alliances could be reborn. Jaina Proudmore accepted the letter at face value, teleporting to Dalaran to discuss things with Rhonin and the rest of the Six. Garrosh put off opening his letter until Vol’jin opened it for him, at which he merely grunted and returning to his brooding. Baine Bloodhoof received Thunder Bluff’s dispatch, and keenly showed it to the lesser tribe leaders of the mesa’s.

Magyk and Sylvanas each cared for their own lands, Windrunner quite content wallowing in the decadent halls of old Lordaeron, Sunwing satisfied beautifying his kingdom, saturating it in magic, infusing every living thing with the arcane.

Satisfied, for now.


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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Sun Mar 28, 2010 5:15 pm

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Part 8: Dawn of a Dynasty

Four months later, and Magyk was lying at the bottom of dungeon number one, a deep, dark chimney buried in the foundations of Silvermoon. Magyk lay stunned, trapped in a Vortex of Shadows and Shades that his usurper had, with great pleasure, set up especially for him. That night was one of the worst in Magyk’s life. He lay helpless in a pool of foul water, resting on a pile of bones of the dungeon’s previous occupants, tormented by the moaning and the screaming of the Shadows and Shades that whirled around him and drained his power. Nevertheless, Magyk did not stir, staring at the door seemingly devoid of emotion and thought. But inside, Magyk’s mind was plotting and scheming. Less than a day later, he had dispelled the Vortex, but had kept the cursory illusion of the moaning Shadows to waylay any fears the guard was having that Magyk was planning to escape. Still Magyk had not moved, nor uttered a word. And then he waited. For two weeks, Magyk only moved when necessary, and then resumed his position opposite the door. The guard was getting bored and began talking to Magyk through the bars of his cell. And at last, when the guard moved off to continue his rounds of the dungeons, Magyk acted.

The door, of course, was well protected, cursing anyone who touched the cell side of it. But Magyk, being Magyk, had always surmised that one should never have a dungeon that you cannot escape from. He bit a dirty nail into a point, then dug it into his palm, wincing slightly as the red liquid oozed from the wound, the new blood of the Sun Kings. He put his hand against the wall behind him and smeared the precious substance across the stone, which slid smoothly back to reveal a tunnel linking all the dungeons. With nine minutes left until his guard returned the now thoroughly filthy King of Quel’thalas crawled into the tunnel and touched the block of stone, it obediently slotting back into the wall as Magyk raced off to reclaim his throne and kingdom.

Magyk paused to catch his breath before stepping onto the burnished gold plate at the end of the passage, quietly whispering his destination and appearing a moment later on an identical disc outside the palace armoury, which he stole into and began equipping himself with various pieces of armour from across the army denominations. Choosing a pair of sturdy Farstrider boots and a Blood Knight hauberk, he slipped a set of Magisterial robes over his chest, he caught sight of himself in one of the long mirrors that dotted the armoury (“Just because you’re in the Military is no excuse to look shabby”) and looked rather pained at the fashion nightmare he had become. Glancing around, he stabbed at his chest and feet with a finger, the metal and leather conforming to the regal scarlet and gold of the Magisterial Division. He was halfway to the door when he stopped and grabbed a mithril short sword and a long staff of gold, the top glimmering as the ruby caught the torchlight. Then he headed for the door again, quickly dispatching an idiotic guard who strayed into the King’s path. Magyk silently dragged the guard to the nearest window before using his magic to lift him over the sill and down into the deep chasm under the throne room balcony. His grim satisfaction was cut short however when a Felguard rounded the corner and hurled several insults and threats at him in demonic before dashing towards Magyk, who kept calm and banished the entity without a second thought. He thought about summoning a demon of his own for a brief moment, before dismissing the idea. The false king would have placed wards everywhere, and he was taking risks every time he drew magic from his fingers.

The throne room, once Magyk had got to it, stank of rotten meat and cheap wine, the palace servants having long been dismissed and the remains of food and drink evidently being thrown against the wall and left to putrefy. Magyk would have been appalled, but his eyes had spotted His throne, upon sat the fool who had sought to imprison him in his own dungeon. Jaelen Sunwhisper was standing before the throne, in grimy robes, his hair greasy from weeks of not being washed. The ‘king’ clapped his hands, to which Jaelen involuntarily jerked and twitched about in a sick, enchanted dance, the fury in his eyes boring deep into the traitor’s mind. Although tempted to race forward and hack the beast’s head off, he decided to first have a little fun. He looked around, partially thankful that large piles of rubbish which covered his movement. He rounded the last pile of lynx steak and broken bottles and stopped dead, his heart pounding as he caught sight of movement to the right of the throne, and relaxed only slightly when he saw that is was Zazulia trying in vain break free of the golden chains binding her to a similar golden ring embedded deep into the wall of the room. Magyk whispered several words in Thalassian and the links turned from the rich hue of sunlight to parchment, which Zazulia tore apart within seconds, clearly astonished at her good fortune. As though sensing she was being watched, she glanced first at the throne in fright, before her eyes were diverted by Magyk’s furtive waving. The Majordomo of Quel’thalas stood with as much grace as she could muster and hurried across the room silently, rushing to the King and throwing her arms around him, planting her lips passionately on his. It was a full five seconds before Magyk overcame the shock and regained enough control of his higher brain function to pull away, looking down on the now slightly fearful face of the young woman. A sly smirk spread across Magyk’s face, not the malicious, somewhat cruel smile he sometimes had plastered across his face, but a warm, kind grin that Zazulia slowly returned.

Magyk put his finger to his lips and gestured for Zazulia to escape while she could, and upon seeing the fire ignited in Magyk’s eyes the young elf obeyed without question. While Zazulia made her way back towards the doorway, Magyk poked his head around the mound again to see Jaelen being forced to bow, his teeth bared in a look of absolute hate. Magyk looked down and carefully pushed a half empty bottle of Suntouched Special Reserve from the middle of the pile, it rolled and bounced down, causing a cascade of rotten meat and broken glass that showered the floor in vile rubbish, by which time Magyk had spun on his heel, a plume of jet black smoke falling to the floor and creeping it’s way swiftly to the other side of the room, unseen by the traitor whose head had spun around to the site of the noise, his ears standing almost vertical. Magyk reappeared next to a mound of broken ale barrels, which he shoved towards the throne before vanishing again. Hilarity ensued, and the heaps of waste were flung about the room, the ‘king’ standing and making his way to the centre of the room in curiosity, allowing Magyk a final reappearance on his throne. He sat somewhat casually, Jaelen’s eyebrows having shot up to the far reaches of his face at the sudden manifestation of his father-in-law. Magyk whispered, his voice magically applified however, so that all could hear what he said. “Good evening Rommath....”

The former Grand Magister spun around in an instant, eyes ignited with hate and, Magyk thought, a little fear. Rommath threw his arm up, palm open and hurled a weak lance of fire across his room, which Magyk batted away easily. Rommath snarled something in Thalassian as Magyk himself stood and called upon his own magic. Centuries of hate and furious welled forth from both sorcerers, the throne room soon becoming a raging battlefield as each drew on the Sunwell exponentially, screaming curses and weaving spells in such complex tongues that the other had trouble understanding what was coming his way. Fire and ice, light and dark, arcane and natural magic saturated the room, the golden hues of the fixtures and fittings, and the throne, gradually melting under the intense assault. Rommath favoured the quantity over the quality of his spells, spattering Magyk’s shield with a great multitude of low powered spells, foolishly allowing the true King to work the power of great magic’s safe behind his arcane barrier. Magyk looked across his throne room, into the middle of the shimmering red barrier where Rommath stood. “Last chance Rommath! Surrender, and I will let you live!” Rommath only laughed, and increased the amount of spells he hurled across the room. Magyk’s hands sliced back and forth, creating a curse that was both beautiful and deadly, unleashing it in a dozen blacks strands, which spiralled around the room, forming archaic runes in the air before curving down towards Rommath, twelve dark vines striking at his shield in the same instant.

It was too much. Two of the strands fizzled and died, but the rest pierced the sorceror’s shield and made straight for his heart, embedding the curse deep within his body, where it rapidly made its way through his body, his blood quickly swelling in his veins. Rommath dropped to his knees, choking as the corruption spread, his shield wavering and dying. Magyk dropped his own shield and rushed forward, skidding across the floor on his knees to catch the fallen elf as blood spurted weakly from his mouth. The elfs eyed one another as Magyk cradled Rommath in his arms. “Shorel'aran brother. Shorel'aran” Magyk barely whispered as Jaelen and Zazulia ran into the room, closely followed by a motley crew of loyalists from the dungeons, all bedecked in battle armour from the armoury. Magyk looked up mournfully as the last of the light left his nemesis’ eyes. He drew his fingers across Rommath’s eyelids, closing them for the final time, then stood, laying the fallen’s head upon the marble, gesturing for two of the audience to remove the body.

Magyk cracked his fingers and rapidly fired bolts of arcane energy at the piles of rubbish, each vanishing in a small column of smoke. Jaelen and Zazulia joined him, both weaving spells in and around Magyk’s, the throne room slowly returning itself to the grandeur of old. Banners pinned themselves to the wall, grime and dirt falling off them as though invisible brushes were sweeping them vigorously. The ancient weapons and shield flew across the room, almost decapitating several of the onlookers, who ducked just in time, and settled into the brackets set into the marble. A pleasent breeze flew around the room, the insulting odours being pushed out of the palace, as Jaelen exited to the balcony, his voice carried over the city as he proclaimed the return of Magyk to the throne.

Several minutes later, after the throne room was looking resplendent once more, although still missing it’s golden throne, Magyk looked at Zazulia, who blushed slightly. He walked towards her, stooping to pick up a sliver of misshapen gold from the floor, transforming it into a delicate circlet carved with words of love in Thalassian and set it gently upon Zazulia’s blonde hair, where it shimmered in the newly reformed soft candlelight. Zazulia, in turn swept down and picked up the crown from where it had fallen from Rommath’s head, and replaced it on Magyk’s head, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. He kissed her, a long passionate kiss, before taking her hands and leading towards the balcony, where a large crowd had formed to welcome back their Sun King. He waved happily and looked down, Zazulia on his arm, and spotted among the faces below Arli, who was clapping somewhat nervously in his Assassin’s uniform, and Catari and Alathreal, who clapped politely.


Last edited by Magyk on Mon Jun 07, 2010 7:34 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Tue Apr 13, 2010 3:59 am

Part 9i: A Grand Assembly

Invitations had been dispatched across the world. Even the Grommash Hold in Orgrimmar had been gifted with the thick piece of card that proclaimed the bearer to be a guest of His Majesty Magyk Sunwing. A week before the appointed day, the Magisters of Silvermoon began to enjoy themselves, expending magic like never before in a bid to make their city welcoming to all civilised races and denominations. The Eversong Woods were transformed, huge pavilions erected in the spring glades that held likenesses of the many homelands of Azeroth. The winter tundra’s of Dun Morogh, the rolling plains of Nagrand, the majestic silence of Ashenvale, all were fabricated to the highest degree from the accounts made by Ambassadors and visitors to the lands to make the King’s guests feel at home.

Deep in the heart of Sunfury Spire, King Magyk Sunwing was entertaining the nobility that had already arrived. Magyk sat upon the a construction that looked more like a sculpture than a seat of power, a monument of turquoise stones and an overwhelming amount of gold that was the new throne of Quel’thalas, some criticising it as a bold choice. Gone were the translucent banners, the age old weapons, instead, a light, airy room, filled only with the throne itself, which now stood on the raised portion of the floor with it’s back to the balcony, the bridge down to the Court of the Sun having long been removed. It faced the new official entrance to the room, the door that had before held the teleportation orb (which had moved to the Silvermoon Registry) opened now unto a magnificent entrance hall which lead to the very Northern end of Sovereign Way. The floor, likewise, had been reformed; the reds and orange giving way to the many shades of blue that now comprised the base of the room. Slowly, the city was conforming to it’s monarch’s new colour scheme, reverting from the (some say) traitorous colours of House Sunstrider back to the cool colours of the Highborne. The Sunwell too was slowly affecting the populace, their fel green eyes becoming lighter, until, like the children of the nation born after Kael’thas’ betrayal, their eyes sparkled with a pure white light, as though Mu’ru had passed on his Lightblessed powers. By Magyk’s side, upon a smaller throne, his arms arched to form a point into front of his chest in a bid to look thoughtful, Grand Magister Sunwhisper sat with a regal smirk on his face. At Magyk’s left hand, again on a slightly smaller throne, sat his fiancé Zazulia Sunborne. All wore robes of blue, Zazulia a dress that almost shone like platinum, Jaelen robe’s of deepest navy, Magyk a beautiful azure robe with golden trim. Together they looked like a sickening inquisition, albeit a pleasantly smiling one. An image that Magyk sought to aspire to. Whilst mostly viewed as a truly benevolent King, Magyk was keen to remind visitors who was in charge. Placing the throne here, upon the few steps in the room, even seated he could look down upon anyone standing before him. A servant stood at the entrance to the room, announcing the names and titles of newcomers as they entered. Magyk smiled as nodded when needed, bored out of his mind but exuding interest easily. Only when he heard a significant name did he look up with genuine interest.

“His Imperial Majesty, King Magni Bronzebeard, Thane of Ironforge, Senator Barin Redstone, High Explorer Muninn Magellas, and guests!” Magyk’s head shot up from looking at the thing forms of the two elves in front of him in time to see the Dwarves expressions as they took in the cool elegance of the room. As they made their way down the gentle incline to the floor, several of the party looked at the finely carved marble in awe; its patterned gold inlay waylaying any doubts the Dwarves had about travelling the distance into what until recently had been enemy territory. Magyk stood and walked down to greet his short statured visitors, clasping his fellow monarch’s armoured hand and smiled genuinely for the first time that day. It was only a few minutes before the next delegation arrived.

“His Excellence Velen the Divine, Prophet of the Naaru, Farseer Nobundo, Elder Sage Akama, and guests!” The aged Draenei made his way steadily down the ramp, flanked by Exodar Vindicators, Magyk calling across the room. “So nice to see you back in Quel’thalas, your Excellency. I hope your journey wasn’t too taxing. Azuremyst is a long way to travel.” Polite banter ensued as the large buffet was set upon by the Dwarven party.

“High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind, Archdruid Fandral Staghelm, Archmage Mordent Evenshade, and guests!” Magyk wove his way through the crowd and clasped the leader’s of his cousins eagerly. A lot had been done to repair the wounds wrought by Magyk’s ancestors over the past few years, mostly thanks to Tyrande’s understanding more than Fandral’s constant bickering that a saber doesn’t change its stripes. Magyk had sent a team of Magister’s to Ashenvale to see if they could help in the regrowing of the forest, the Druid’s grudgingly accepting as little help as they could, but eventually quelled at a few kind words from Tyrande about forgiveness, and the fact that the Sin’dorei no longer utilised the arcane in its raw form, more a fusion of arcane and Light that the Sunwell now spewed forth into every Child of the Sun.

“His Royal Highness King Varian Wrynn, Highlord Tirion Fordring, Archbishop Benedictus, General Marcus Jonathan, and dignitaries!” Whilst Magyk made polite and slightly forced conversation with the Humans, several beautiful young elves made their way to the Dwarven party and began playing on their weaknesses, bringing a steady supply of ale whilst giggling somewhat inanely at their vulgar comments and jokes. Magyk glanced over at the group and smirked before turning his attention back to Grand Admiral Jes-Tereth’s comment about Naga.

“High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque and the Court of Gnomeregan!” the crowd parted for the (as yet) unseen Gnomes, and before long Magyk was kneeling on the floor and shaking the High Tinker’s hand and welcoming him to Silvermoon. The lens of Mekkatorque’s goggles spun, scrutinising Magyk for an unknown reason, and before long was enjoying the delights of the buffet with King Bronzebeard, his entourage, and the young ladies that were even now fawning over the tiny figures with smiling faces.

“Archmagi Rhonin, Modera, and Aethas of Dalaran, Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Lady Vereesa Windrunner and Dalaran Ambassador Sagetime!” Magyk ignored all else but Vereesa’s expression. The first impression of her old home had somewhat interested Magyk since he had written the Violet Citadel’s invitation. And if Sylvanas had accepted his invitation, today would be all the more surprising, one of the very few occasions when two Windrunner’s had met since the fall. Ambassador Sagetime was often talked about around Silvermoon as being an elf of ancient power, although Magyk reasoned that if your face was constantly covered with a ceramic mask you had something to hide. Nonetheless, the party was welcome, and Magyk struck up a conversation with Rhonin as the rest of the group moved about the room.

“Delegates of the Horde, High Chieftain Baine Bloodhoof, Warlord Vol’jin, High Priestess Una Ji’ro, and guests!” Magyk, for the most part, ignored the Tauren and Trolls and continued his debate with Rhonin, who had become a close friend over the course of Magyk’s reign. Rhonin, Magyk found, was very good at cooking, and they often found themselves in the kitchens long after midnight laughing at nothing in particular. Current, the two leaders were talking over the latest article in Thaumaturgy Today.

“Her Royal Highness Sylvanas Windrunner, Banshee Queen of the Forsaken, Master Apothecary Faranell, Archmage Bethor Iceshard, and guests!” As usual, Magyk’s ally had brought a contingent of Dark Ranger’s with her party, all of whom regarded the richness of the room disdainfully as they took up place evenly around the walls, even now on constant alert to threats to their Dark Mistress. Now he saw her keen blue eyes scanning the room hurriedly, and came to rest at a point to the left, close, or dead on, Magyk suspected, the spot where Vereesa had spun around at the sound of her sister’s name. The two elves regarded each other across the room before slowly walking towards the centre of the room. Rhonin made to follow his wife, Magyk grabbing the mage’s arm to stop him, as the sister’s embraced each other with all the decorum of two Orcs. Sylvanas managed a smile, although it just made it look like she was in pain and she stopped hastily.
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Fri May 21, 2010 12:52 am

The Alliance and Horde still battled their pointless wars, but had largely left the new Empire of Quel'thalas. The Horde, losing two of it's five races, had been hard pushed, and the Night Elves had recently retaken Ashenvale forest, even now druid's across the sea were coaxing life to return once more to the ancient trees. Gnomeregan had once more become the Seat of the Gnomes, and rumours had travelled North of Gelbin Mekkatorque becoming the first Gnomish King in over 400 years, and after all he had done for the wondrous techno-city, most were unsurprised. King Varian's reign had once more united the territories of Stormwind. And if Stormwind's power was rising, across the Maelstrom, Orgrimmar' reach waned. Garrosh craved the destruction of Humanity, and had instantly dismissed Trolls and Tauren from the orcish capital as soon as he succeeded Thrall as Warchief. This had not endeared him to the few allies he had left, and had lost him huge amounts of land that had previous been seen as untouchable by the Alliance. Now, the Southern Barrens were home to a large Alliance force, effectively keeping the great Tauren tribes penned into the plains of Mulgore. Stormwind, not content with having the Orcs of the Horde to their South, in Grom'gol and Stonard, and the remnants of Nefarion's Orc minons to their North, had seen fit to charge South and destroyed both Orc bases and opened access to Nethergarde Keep once more. In a further attempt to settle the minds of Humanity to his good intentions, the Sun King had wiped the small Orc encampment from the Arathi Highlands, allowing the shattered forces of the old kingdom of Strom a reprieve, and a chance to reclaim their city. Dalaran, having dealt with the Aspect of Magic, Malygos, had returned to it's former place on the Southern shore of Lordamere Lake, with a mithril-clad agreement from both Magyk and Sylvanas that they would leave the magocracy in peace.
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Wed May 26, 2010 12:33 am

Part 9ii: Pride comes before a fall

The gentle waters lapped against the sweeping arms of the Sunwell Plateau. What had two decades previously had been the end of the Dead Scar, Magyk had had the entire inner courtyard lowered, letting the waters of the sea flood in and right up to the small dock that had been placed against the side of the Chamber of the Sunwell itself. Arriving here in the small fleet of boats, the guests, Magyk had realised, would have to pass through what had rapidly become a museum to the triumph's of the Sin'dorei, and then walk past the glorious radiance of the eternal spring of magic that saturated the whole Kingdom, to finally reach their destination at Apex Point, above Parhelion Plaza. In the gardens below, several dozen magister's wondered amidst the gardens, eyeing everyone with suspicion.

The guests were seated in time, and as the sun rose to crown the very tip of the tallest spire of the Plateau, silence descended as a sharp wind picked up. A lone elf rose from behind the crowd on a thin disc of beaten gold, and the elf flew across the assembly and alighted the disc, arms outstretched and beaming at the crowd. Grand Magister Jaelen had settled into his life at the palace well, finding time to finish his official duties and still managing to research various ways of consuming and using magic. Although his robe size had gotten slightly larger over the years of expensive eating, as had everyone's at Sunfury Spire, Jaelen's face was still thin, his eyes glowing with a healthy semi-green and hair perfect as always. “My Lords, Ladies, and gentlemen...welcome to what I promise will be a day to be remembered by all...” His eyes drifted lazily across the crowd, paying close attention to King Varian and Warlord Vol'jin, both looking disgruntled at being so close to each other. “May I please present, on his wedding day, our Most Glorious Sovereign and Noble Majesty, Sun King, Magyk Sunwing!” Jaelen threw an arm up and gestured down the the aisle, where three plumes of smoke arose from above the crowd, a scarlet cloud flanked by two jet black stripes. The columns of smoke writhed and coiled around each other until they formed the shimmering figures of three men, two assassin's in the black longcoats that had recently become fashionable in Quel'thalas, and in the centre, in ancient magisterial robes the likes of which had not been seen in centuries, stood Magyk himself. His soft golden hair hung loosely past his shoulders, the gleaming crown resting upon every strand perfectly, the ancient gold glinting as the sun rose higher. He stepped forward and walked down the aisle, his assassin's following a step behind, to deafening applause from the ladies of the congregation, especially those surrounding Magni Bronzebeard and Gelbin Mekkatorque, both of whom looked slightly dazed, with serene smiles on their faces, Magyk was pleased to see. Most of the Night Elf delegation looked on with ill-disguised contempt at the reckless use of the arcane, while Dalaran's mage's glanced about, bemused and wondering what would happen next. The King himself stopped before the block of marble that comprised the makeshift altar, it's surface carved deeply with Thalassian words of love, and turned to the crowd, bowing deeply. The assassin's bowed as well, and it wasn't until most of the audience had gotten their heads around the magical display that they recognised the High Assassin himself, Arli Sunblade, his now long black hair as straight as the numerous hidden daggers he had about his person. Arli, too, had grown into his new role at the forefront of Silvermoon's political stage, going so far as to mimick Magyk's hairstyle and regal walk, as was his want nowadays. Gone was the nervous rogue who felt panicked by his responsibilities as a Deathmaster, and in his place stood one of the most feared and respected of the Empire, bedecked in black and silver finery.

A hush rippled across the crowd as a soft march began on unseen harps, and most turned to see the vision of Zazulia Sunborne gliding gracefully down the isle, the sunlight catching the diamond tiara that sat upon her golden hair, the white silk of her dress flowing down her body. Magyk grinned somewhat childishly, as beside him both Jaelen and Arli stepped to the side to allow the couple to stand together at the foot of the altar.

It was half an hour later, when the ceremony was finishing and the newly married royals turned, that King Sunwing fell to the ground, clutching his chest in agony as blood spurted from his chest...
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Fri Jun 04, 2010 2:46 pm

Part 9iii: The board is set

Arli's hands snaked down to his belt and unsheathed two daggers made of purest silver, archaic runes adorning the hilts, and he leapt forward in front the King, eyeing the crowd with a look of venom in his eyes. The other assassin grabbed Zazulia and unceremoniously hurled her behind the altar, her tiara falling and rolling away across the plaza. Both the Alliance and Horde leadership leapt to their feet and turned to each other, snarling and issuing cries of treachery as Jaelen helped Magyk to his feet and to the nearest chair, clearly forgetting he had the abilities to conjure such things. Magyk himself winced in pain as he pressed hard on his wound trying to stop the trail of scarlet he was leaving across the stones. Weapons were drawn, and Archmage Rhonin was hard pushed to imobilize everyone, even with the help of Modera and Sunreaver. Magyk stood unsteadily and stumbling, turned around, his finger pointing wildly around before he steadied himself, and pointed directly at Warlord Vol'jin, before falling to the ground, his hand still outstretched.
Suffice to say, the leader of the Darkspear tribe and head of the Horde Trolls was swiftly dispatched by the twin strikes of King's Bronzebeard and Mekkatorque, who ducked and dived their way through the crowd, and without a shadow of hesitation decapitated the hunched over Troll, who had taken cover behind the imposing Tauren next to him.After several moments of rapid spellcasting from the Dalaranian Archon's, the Alliance leaders were sucessfully pinned down to their chairs, the Horde delegation choosing to retreat directly to Orgrimmar through a somewhat crude portal that in fact dumped the fleeing Kalimdorians in the Bay of Storms in Azshara.

Magyk opened his eyes to find himself lying flat out on top of the altar, several cushions being repurposed from the garden marquees to provide a semi-comfortable surface rather than the cold hard marble. Velen and Tirion stood close by, which, as Magyk looked down to the now faint scar on his chest, must be how he had regained consciousness. He turned his head wearily to spy Zazulia in hurried conference with Jaelen, appearing to be having a hushed argument just out of earshot. When his new wife, and Queen of Quel'thalas, saw that Magyk had awakened, she hurried to him, stumbling slightly on the hem of her white dress, which was now spotted here and there with blood. His blood. He smiled as his wife kissed him gently and quietly asked her what she was discussing with Jaelen to which she strangely pursed her lips and muttered 'Nothing.'

Magyk sat up, somewhat slowly, and hopped down from the altar and gestured to the nearest chair, the wooden seat soaring across the floor and placed itself behind the altar. Magyk half fell into it and leaned forward onto the marble, his fingers steepled. There were no Humans left bar Tirion and those from Dalaran, but a few Dwarves and Gnomes remained, both their kings once again surrounded by adoring young Elves, their eyes slightly glazed. Two Vindicator's were standing to attention near Velen, and the Night Elves had gone, no doubt to begin their long trek home, the leadership still not trusting portal magic.

“Jaelen, take a letter. To Garrosh Hellscream, Grommash Hold, Orgrimmar. Message begins, Mr. Hellscream, Your pathetic attempt at killing me has quite obviously been in vain, and the Thalassian Empire has, as of this moment, ceased trading with your foolish Horde. I am almost speechless as to the audacity of your orders, in using my wedding day as a very badly mistimed assassination attempt. In addition to the cease of trade, I now decree that any Orc, Troll or indeed Tauren that sets foot in my lands again will be punished in the most gruesome manner the Silvermoon Assassin's can think of. Consider yourself warned Hellscream. Do not make me return to your dusty hovel. Yours sincerely, Sun King, Magyk Sunwing. Message ends.” Magyk looked down and gingerly poked his chest, the scar only slightly painful, muttering something about ruined robes.

As night descended over the golden hues of the trees of Eversong, King's Sunwing, Bronzebeard and Mekkatorque spoke in hushed tones. Or rather, Magyk did. The short statured monarch's entourages had been dismissed, as had the girls who had constantly fawned over the Dun Moroghian's. Now, in the frigid pavilion that represented the Dwarven and Gnomish homeland, wrapped in heavy lynx furs, the King of Quel'thalas talked in such a way that his more Southern counterparts hung onto his every word, and after several minutes departed for his palace, and his new wife.

The next morning, the guests who had remained after the wedding were treated to a sumptuous breakfast before departing for home. Both Magyk and Zazulia waved regally from the top of the gates to Silvermoon, and as they left the King and Queen's sight, Magyk smirked, muttering “So it begins...”
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Wed Jun 23, 2010 2:48 am

I've begun to add music to my stories, because that's how I write most of the time. I have the basic idea, and sit down and think of a piece of music that fits with it. Stick it on repeat, and start writing. No idea how or why, but it works for me Razz Anyway, I think I can cover the rest of the story arc in another 4 or 5 posts if I rush, 7 or 8 maybe if I put everything I want to in. Enjoy!

Suggested music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=62TEljaPzo0

Part 10: The pieces are moving

Sunstrider Spire, the previous Palace of the Quel'dorei, had once stood tall where Sunfury Spire stands today, and was once a marvel of organic elven architecture, but now its walls are stained with elven blood and its graceful spires shattered like bones. The Scourge, despite its best efforts, never discovered the legendary Sunstrider treasury. This mythic vault had lured many adventurers and fortune seekers from across the world, but had never relinquished it secrets. It was by sheer chance that King Magyk Sunwing stumbled upon the entrance one night whilst wondering the halls of the palace in the early hours of the morning, as he had tended to do these past months. Growing ever older, the Elven King's hair had adopted a regal sliver of silver, his eyes looked slightly more tired, his skin showing the first signs of wrinkling. After finding the vault guarded by the ghosts of Elves, he oftened delighted in sending prisoners into the dungeon, allowing them the chance of freedom if they presented the King with an artefact from the bowels of the treasury. Until one day, when one of the prisoner brought back something that would change the world forever....

Dawn arrived, the towers of the Sunwell Plateau glittering as they caught the sun, whilst inside was already a hive of activity. Warmage General Ilsinea Fireleaf darted around the Sunwell chamber, adjusting several pieces of equipment in rapid succession. Around the walls, where once were murals of great demonic entities, now hosted a range of frescos depicted King Magyk in a variety of heroic poses, all of them smiling dazzingly down at the pool of raw magic, now surrounded by complex machinary, both mechanical and magical, a sickening fusion of metal and the arcane. From the ceiling hung a long transparent pipe of magically strengthened crystal, dropping straight down into the waters. Already the pipe was showing signs of stress as it drew raw arcane power from the Sunwell, whilst leaving the physical waters undisturbed. Pale purple mist shot up through the pipe and around corners, through machines to finally be blasted through a deep purple gem into the heart of arcane crystals, which had become a speciality of the Grand Magister's. These crystals, in turn, were used in the running of the city, allowing all menial tasks to be carried out by the simplest of inanimate objects.

Magyk stood on the wide veranda above the waters, watching the Magister's below scurry about like insects. It revolted him at what had to be done, but secrecy must be assured. He turned his head to the right slightly, speaking only slightly above a whisper. “Mr. Sunblade. I trust your trip to Ironforge went well.” He carried on, knowing the answer already. “I have another task for you...” He gestured down to the Sunwell. “Kill them all. But leave Fireleaf, she's useful to us still.” He did not turn to see Arli bow and fade into the shadows, but watched as one by one the Magister's were slowly picked off quickly and cleanly, and more importantly, silently. They would only have made a fuss, Magyk thought as he smirked involuntarily as one the younger Magister's walked past a large machine and tripped. Undoubtedly he would have cried out, if he had not been dead before he began falling. He was lain to the ground softly and rolling under a table seemingly of his own accord. Soon, General Fireleaf realised that she was the only one left in the room, and looked up at the balcony to see Magyk. “General Fireleaf...prepare for phase three testing.” After a hurried bow, she began to work again. Magyk, however, began to smile. “Dr. Cavendish, I believe we are ready for your...boys...” The Forsaken Doctor a little way off bowed, grinning as well as he could with no jaw. He signalled to another apothecary by the door, who in turn signalled outside, from where a long line of warriors walked, the dregs of Elven society ascended to become magnificent specimens of Sin'dorei with rippling muscles and severely conditioned in the bowels of Sunfury Spire to obey every command without question. From the right person. The forty-nine Elves walked, seven by seven, to stand behind Magyk, where they turned upon the spot, saluting their King, no trace of expression on their face. Magyk smirked. “Many of you will not returning to Silvermoon. Even at it's best, the process you are about to undergo has a high mortality rate. Nevertheless, those who survive will become blessed, by the Sunwell's waters, and by your King. You will ascend to something more than mere mortals. You will become what I need you to be.....” Magyk grinned malefically. “Proceed...”
The King of Quel'thalas looked down upon the Sunwell once more, his eyes positively alight with anticipation, and jumped slightly as his Grand Magister stepped up beside him, wearing a midnight blue longcoat dusted with silver, his long blonde hair now tied at the nape of his neck. Magyk regained his composure as the first of the subjects stopped before the mithril edged plate below the machine's firing mechanism. He took another step and reached upwards, pointing his palm directly into the line of fire, where a small crystal sat, embedded deep in the man's skin. Magyk glanced at Jaelen's look of confusion. “Soulstone's. Of my own design, of course. Draining a soul whilst simultaneously crafting a soulstone from the person you are draining of life....remarkable effects....and whilst the soul is locked within that sparkling little trinket, it frees the body up to be used as....transport.” He pointed down at the man as Jaelen opened his mouth to enquire about his statement. Ilsinea took a moment to look at the Elf in front of her, glanced up at Magyk, and pressed a violet button on the console before her.

A large jewel shone brightly as the power passing through it amplified, a haze of purple light engulfed the man, raw magic flowing into and around his physical form, flooding his conditioned mind with the arcane. His veins pulsed with it, his blood boiling and freezing at the same time, his bones infused with an unstoppable onslaught of magic. He screamed, altering pitch in seconds from a deep Dwarven roar to the youngest Kal'dorei's shriek. Magyk smiled to himself and crossed his arms, savouring the hours ahead.

Thirty of forty-nine was an excellent result, better than he had ever expected. Magyk half skipped through the Plateau, singing an ancient Quel'dorei ballad in his smooth crystalline voice, grinning childishly all the while. Blood Knights smirked with raised eyebrows as he passed, but he cared little. Soon, decades of planning would come to fruition, and at last, his people would be in their rightful place, more glorious and triumphant than ever before.


Last edited by Magyk on Sat Jul 10, 2010 1:36 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Sat Jul 10, 2010 1:35 am

Sorry it's taken so long, exams and all that. This is the first of (hopefully) a rapid three-parter I've got planned as the sort of penultimate 'big event', hence the shortness of the post. Hope you enjoy. Smile

Part 11i: A Royal Welcome

Freezing rain pounded the deck of the Liara, the flagship and only super-destroyer of the Thalassian fleet, the waves crashed against the hull spraying the crew with saltwater. Anchored off the Stormwind coast, the Elves had come to discuss the formality of a new alliance, or altering the existing one to suit their needs. Below deck, in safely in a cabin that was not altogether physically attached to the rest of the ship, King Magyk Sunwing sat upon a beautiful chair of carved mahogany, at the head of the table surrounded by advisors and delegates from the rival factions of Quel'thalas, the remains of a sumptuous feast covering the polished surface. Jaelen Sunwhisper, looking slightly nervous in his navy blue frock coat, was just finishing his desert. Next to him, already back to scribbling furiously in a large scarlet tome, in her ceremonial garb, sat Warmage General Fireleaf. To her right, Matriarch Catari Bladesinger sat uncomfortably in a silken dress of platinum blue. At the far right end of the table, looking similarly distressed as to not having the protection of her armour plating, sat Mistress Alathreal Vendel'o. Opposite Magyk, Queen Zazulia, her stomach now more pronounced as her pregnancy wore on, was in conversation with Halduron Brightwing, who was picking at the small mountain of strawberries and cream in front of him. Lor'themar Theron, Lord Emmisary of the Empire, was next, dabbing at his mouth as his spoon clattered onto his plate. The penultimate member of the group was hunched over a jet black ledger to match the colour his long coat, the Treasurer of the Assassin's Society ran through hundreds of numbers. Between him and Magyk sat Arli, who looked vaguely bored by the whole affair, and was looking at each of the Elves seated around the table in turn, presumably wondering, and probably hoping, that one of them would foolishly make an attempt on Magyk's life and force Arli's hand in helping them shuffle off the mortal coil before they had so much as raised a knife. Magyk gazed out of the wide window on his right, a flash of lightning illuminating the skyline of the ancient and proud Human capital. And riding the waves, looking rather stricken and in need of help, was a lone rowboat, slowly fighting it's way to towards the Liara. The King of Quel'thalas leapt up, Arli following an instant later, and hurried from the room, the High Assassin striding quickly behind him making not so much as a whisper on the creaking wood of the floor. Having grown accustomed to the solidity of the dining room being in a slightly separate space and time than the rest of the ship, and therefore suffering none of the drawbacks that the rest of the crew had as the flagship flew up and down on the waves, both Magyk and Arli stumbled slightly, and righted themselves just in time as the rest of the Thalassian High Command stumbling out of the cabin, allowing Magyk and Arli to sneer in slight displeasure at their colleagues forgetfulness.

On deck, the honour guard stood in the pouring rain, never flinching from their duty in protecting the ship, despite one of them having been sick, as Magyk had just found out to his right shoes cost. With a grimace, he stepped steadily forward and leant far over the railings at the side of the ship, looking for his mysterious rowboat. For five long minutes, he watched the high waves peak and break in elemental chaos, until he saw it, bobbing towards the aft of the ship, just floating out of view, the lone sailor struggling against the sea. Magyk threw his arm behind him, a long length of rope soaring through the air and landing again beside him, where one end reared up like a cobra. Magyk pointed out the small seacraft, to which the rope slithered down the side of the boat and worked it's way across the surface of the water, zig-zagging all the way, until it attatched itself to the prow of the stricken boat and began hauling it towards the Liara of it's own accord. When it had drawn near, Magyk and Arli bent down and hauled the sodden sailor onto the deck, his hood falling from his head, to reveal the young face of Prince Anduin Wrynn.
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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Sun Jul 11, 2010 4:06 am

Part 11ii: Magyk Victorious

A hurried conference ensued, the young teenage Prince informing the ancient Elves of how he had escaped the palace after it had come under attack by unknown forces. Ilsinea and Jaelen had been sent out to fly high above the city, masked by the storm as they watched as Stormwind was slowly consumed by an internal war. The dining room had been re purposed as a makeshift war room, a map of the city streets had been produced from somewhere and small magical lights indicated where the heaviest casualties were. Anduin was invaluable in detailing the interior of the Stormwind Keep, and it was soon agreed that the entire crew, along with the High Command, minus the Queen, were to fight through as best they could to the Keep, in an effort to save King Varian.

Ilsinea alighted the deck quietly, her robes torn and slightly burned, her hair dishevelled and face cut. She stumbled below deck as quickly and steadily as she dared, and carefully made the transition between the rocking ship and the steady war room to make her terrifying, but unfortunately accurate, report.

“In short, one of the strongest racial bonds Azeroth has ever known has been shattered, the Alliance lies in tatters, and Jaelen.....Jaelen fell to their overwhelming numbers...” The Warmage General sniffed, still in shock at the dreaded revelation that King Magni Bronzebeard, along with King Gelbin Mekkatorque, against all logic, had attacked Humanity at it's very core, the armies of Ironforge and Gnomeregan pouring into the heart of the city through the tramway. And in the midst of the chaos, the Grand Magister, Lord Jaelen Sunwhisper, had fallen. When Magyk had first heard the news, he looked like he had been dealt a physical blow, and it was only the timely intervention of Arli holding him steady that he remained standing.

Now, standing on the rain-sodden wood of the deck of his flagship, watching as the harbour drew closer, everyone on board braced themselves, already having seen the teeming swarms of Dwarves and Gnomes heading towards the sea. The Liara bumped gently into the harbour wall, and thirty six elves, along with Anduin Wrynn, leapt onto dry land, their swords flashing, daggers weaving, and spells hurtling through the night.

After what felt like hours of battle against an ever-present foe, the makeshift battlegroup arrived in Cathedral Square, having followed the screams of battle to find the Light-blessed Paladins and Priests dotting the steps of the great church, their deep chanting allowing the Light itself to augment their fighting prowess to even greater heights than normal, cutting through swathes of Dun Moroghians with relative ease. Once a gap in the combat had opened, several Human civilians leapt from cover in the orphanage and hurried across the plaza and into the safe haven of the cathedral. Magyk ignored them, stepping smartly forward and lancing a spear of darkest shadow into the face of a Dwarf, who dropped to the ground, dead. He swiftly moved on, followed closely by his elite, still heading relentlessly towards the palace.

Another great effort later, and losing several of his honour guard, Magyk, Anduin and the Elves burst into the Throne Room of Stormwind Keep, where three King's were battling for supremacy. Gelbin had the advantage of agility, Magni was a born warrior, but both could not stand against the might of Lo'gosh's crushing blows. Shalamayne whirled through the air, striking at the royalty of Khaz Moden who for so long had been allies to the Humans. Magyk took all this in, and before he could leap forwards and stop him, Anduin raced forward, his sword hacking at the small figure of the Gnomish King with a ferocity to match his father's. Distracted by his son's appearance, Varian dodged a moment too late, the great hammer of Magni Bronzebeard slamming into his chest. Varian armour buckled as he was flung across the room and landing heavily at Magyk's feet. And without a moment's hesitation, Magyk drew his sword and plunged it down, through Varian's shattered armour and into his chest.


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PostSubject: Re: Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]   Tue Jul 13, 2010 10:31 pm

Part 11iii: The changing of the Guard

Varian, Lord of House Wrynn, King of Humanity, lay dead upon the floor of his own throne room. His son, Anduin, struggled against the iron grips of Magni Bronzebeard and Gelbin Mekkatorque in vain, all three standing to the right of the throne, upon which sat the newly self-appointed Emperor Magyk Sunwing, surrounded by his new staff. To his left, his wife was seated and breathing slightly more heavier than usual. Magyk stood and walked to the rightful King of Stormwind, who until now had not taken his eyes from his father's corpse, which no one had thought to move. Magyk bent down and grabbed the boy by the neck, closing his eyes in annoyance when the child spat in his face. Arli, ever-present at Magyk's side, drew a knife and held it to the boy's face. Magyk was faster, and his hand connected with the young Human's face so hard that his head swung around. “Don't be foolish, your majesty...” Magyk drew a shred of cloth from his robes and wiped the spittle from his cheek. “Your blessed father should have taught you to respect your elders...and I'm bordering ancient....But I have no doubt that Saint Bolvar instructed you in the art of diplomacy, and as such, you will sign this....” Magyk held his hand out, and an almost transparent folio of what looked sickeningly like skin blossomed from nothingness, hovering between them. Upon it, ancient words in Thalassian where written in Magyk's own blood. Anduin Wrynn stared in horror at the page, trying to struggle from the grasp of Magni and Gelbin without any success. “What does it say?” He asked through gritted teeth. Magyk grinned. “This is a document detailling the fact that you renounce your claim to the throne, and the claims of the House of Nobles. It also allows me to become Lord Protector of Stormwind. A bad deal, do you think? Well, consider this. Every minute it takes for you to decide, I will instruct Mr. Sunblade over there...” Magyk gestured to Arli “To remove one of your toes. Then he starts with the fingers, then the ears, the eyes, the tongue...you get the idea. And all the while Miss Bladesinger, over there...” Magyk this time pointed towards Catari, who, along with Alathreal, Theron and Brightwing, were looking decidedly uncomfortable near the door to the war room, her eyes narrowed “...will be keeping you conscious with her Light blessed power...”

Four toes later, and Anduin showed no sign of relenting. Even Magyk began to have a grudging respect for the boy, who had only begun screaming after the third. He waved Arli away as the assassin prepared to take another toe. “Arli, go and find some of the local peasantry, and we'll see how brave our little boy really is.” It only took a few moments to hunt down several of the palace servants who had taken refuge in the kitchens. “Now, forget the toe thing. Another minute, another death. Enitrely your choice of course. But between the fighting outside and your stubbornness, you won't have much of a kingdom left to rule soon.” Magyk reclined in the throne that had so recently been occupied by one of the greatest warriors on Azeroth.

It took fifty-nine seconds, when Anduin, from Magyk's point of view, saw sense, and signed the macabre sheet by dripping several drops of his royal blood near the bottom. The skin instantly burst into flame, sending a foul smell around the room, but making everything Magyk now did entirely legal without repercussions from Dalaran, Darnassus and the Exodar. In theory. Magyk reached up and stroked his throat gently, and, speaking, his voice thundered across the city, magically amplified. “People of Stormwind! His Most Imperial Majesty, Emperor Magyk Sunwing, and newly appointed Lord Protector of Stormwind now speaks to you all. Lay down your arms, and I promise you, you will live. Those who do not, face death for the crime of treason! Assassin's are being posted throughout the city to assure you comply! Please, do not make this harder upon yourselves! Dwarves, Gnomes, return to Ironforge without further ado, if you please!” Several puzzled faces looked at Magyk, clearly wondering how he could think of ordering the armies of Ironforge and Gnomeregan to stop. Only Arli voiced the question everyone was thinking, and as he leant back against the tall stone edifice of the Lion Throne, he replied softly.

“I am well versed in the manipulations of the mind, as you know. Imagine then, if you would, if I taught several beautiful young ladies the skills. And then, imagine if they had three days of continous contact with a person, all the time subtley prodding and probing their minds, changing them only ever so slightly at a time, so that the person would never know. And then imagine....that that person was a King....or two...” Magyk grinned at his Dwarven and Gnomish counterparts, and let forth an involuntary giggle, enjoying himself now finally his plan could be revealed. Arli smirked slightly, the first emotion he had shown all day. “This attack was not just a whim then, sir?” The assassin took a casual step back, aware of Magyk's sudden mood swings, but Magyk merely chuckled. “Oh no Sunblade, I've been planning this little party for quite a long time...and the proverbial night is just beginning...Even now, Sylvanas will be moving through Dun Morogh, sealing the Empire's hold on the Eastern Kingdoms forever. No one, neither Horde or Alliance, can stop me now...but just in case...crush any thoughts of a banner to unite under would you...” Magyk looked pointedly at the three kings on the right, two of them still standing as still as statues. Arli nodded and smirked, and within a minute, the trio were lying in a small pile, their collective blood spreading across the white stone of the floor to join Varian's congealing pool. “General Fireleaf. Prepare for our departure from this miserable hovel.” Ilsinea stood from where she was examining the corpses and began the short ritual to summon a portal. “You, General, will be staying here with a contingent of Magisters to make sure our occupation runs....smoothly...” Magyk grinned vampirically as he directed the other Elves through the portal, then helped his wife to her feet an accompanied her through the Nether to Silvermoon. Arli was the last to leave, after prising Shalamayne from Varian's hand and sneering at Ilsinea, who was now left to govern Stormwind under Magyk's strict regime.
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