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#14016822 Apr 06, 2019 at 07:28 AM · Edited 6 months ago
433 Posts
((Continued from this thread))

Truesteel if he had to guess, maybe a cobalt hybrid. Maeshkin’s cell appeared to be made from one piece of solid metal. A bench ran down the side of one wall, but the rest of the cell was perfectly angular. The door was made of heavy bars of the same material. They were charged with energy, he was certain it was the same energy used to subdue him in Darkshore. For now, Maeshkin was without options.

There were no guards posted, but by the design of the cell, they probably weren’t needed. Any attempt Maeshkin would make to escape would be met by a most unpleasant dose of holy energy. He had yet to see his captors since he arrived, it had been at least ten days from what he could guess.

Maeshkin could hear a pin drop in his cell. It was painfully quiet. He could hear the hum of the energy coming from the bars. He could hear footsteps on the floors above him, but never saw anyone. The Twiceborne hadn’t sated his hunger in some time, and the silence didn’t help him quiet the urges. He spent almost the entire time in meditation, trying to keep his mind occupied.

On this day he could hear familiar mumbling on the floor above him, but could not make out he exact words. Maeshkin was sure it was this Knight-Captain Briggs, who had initially apprehended him. The voices got quieter, and then stopped. Footsteps walked down the hallway above him, then…stairs maybe. The next time Maeshkin looked up, the Knight-Captain and his two Lightforged Draenei guards were standing just outside his cell.

“Ah, here he is. The Hand of Command.” Zanley Briggs’ words cut through clouds of familiar cigar smoke. “I hope you find your accommodations adequate.”

Maeshkin remained seated, trying his best to not anger, he knew it would do no good. “The room service is kinda crappy, but at least the neighbors are quiet.” The Twiceborne shrugged as he smirked at the Knight-Captain, giving a sly wink to his Lightforged companions.

Briggs pushed his cigar against the bars of the cell, reigniting it as the holy energy sparked slightly. “I could get used to this Lightforged tech, I don’t know about you. I just wanted to make sure your stay was as comfortable as possible.”

“I’m glad the Alliance goes to such great lengths to silence dissent,” Maeshkin snipped. “I didn’t think a lowly Twiceborne was such a dangerous target. I’m flattered.”

The Knight-Captain arched his brow, slightly amused. “Not many are as outspoken as you, Darksong. And in public no less. We can’t have you inciting unrest among the general populace. That would make us no better than the Horde.”

“So what now? Do I get a trial? Do I sit in here until I turn to dust? I am quite curious, Knight-Captain.”

Both of the Lightforged seemed to roll their eyes, almost wondering the same things themselves. “Oh, my Lightforged brethren, have patience. Mr. Darksong here will get his due lesson in loyalty with time. No need to rush to anything. It’s not like he’s going to die in here.” Briggs seemed to glow with confidence, “I can see things turning around for you quite nicely. Quite nicely indeed..”

Maeshkin tilted his head sideways at the Knight-Captains words, scratching his beard calmly. “You do realize my allies will come looking.” He gazed around his cell and walked up to the bars, inches from his captor’s face. “I will get out of here, one way or another. You had better hope you’re hard to find when I do.”

Briggs gestured to his guards, clearly out of patience for his prisoner. The three walked down the corridor from Maeshkin’s cell, and out of view before returning to the upper level.

“Knight-Captain Briggs, vhat is your plan for ze prisoner?” One of the Lightforged spoke once they were out of earshot of the cell.

“We starve him out. We starve him until he has no choice but to fight for the Alliance. He will crave it. He will hunger for it.”

“But, Sir. Zhe prisoner, he does not eat, how vill ve starve him?”

Briggs reached up to pat the Lightforged on the back. “You have much to learn from your new allies. Trust me, he will come around.”

So many fallen kings, silent in their numberless graves...

Even the mighty are rendered nameless by time.

Every king must kneel before death.

- Memory of Arthas

(profile pic by: Mirodiil)
#14054532 Apr 17, 2019 at 04:01 PM
433 Posts
It was an uncharacteristically sunny morning in Boralus, and the sun glared through the windows in the office of Zanley Briggs. He poured over his reports as he did every morning since arriving in the city. His coffee was still hot, and smoke filled the room from his freshly lit cigar. Things were going exactly to plan so far today.

There were heavy footsteps outside the Knight-Captain’s door, followed by a loud but polite knock. “Enter, Constable,” Briggs responded to his visitor.

Ducking through the doorway was Constable Uli’uli. He was tall, even for a Lightforged Draenei. He clearly looked like a veteran soldier, his skin withered and scarred from years of war on Argus. He wore the armor of the 7th Legion, and carried a shock baton that was as long as he was tall. His beard was worn grey from the years, but immaculately trimmed. He spoke in a deep, booming voice, confident and assertive. “Knight-Captain, here is zhe manifest you requested. Zhe Stormrunner pulled into port late yesterday afternoon.”

Briggs smiled and nodded as he was handed the paperwork. He examined the manifest quickly, searching for the personnel log. “Constable, please sit down. You’re standing in my light.”

The Constable was unsure if the Knight-Captain was jesting, but did as he was ordered and took a seat, the floor creaking as he settled into a chair that was clearly too small for him.

“Very good, Constable, thank you for expediting this report. It seems they brought quite the crew. More than I expected. Some new faces I see, but I am intrigued that the Elder Lorekeeper has come out from the shadows.”

“Sir, do you zhink they know of our prisoner?” The Constable inquired.

Briggs furled his brow in thought, contemplating the question. “I’m sure they realize their second in command hasn’t reported in, but I doubt they suspect where he actually is. Speaking of, what is the status of our prisoner?”

“Sir, he remains in his cell and remains there securely.” The Constable’s words were wavering, and followed by an exasperated sigh. “However…”

Zanley tapped his pen on the desk impatiently, looking up from the manifest, “Out with it, Constable, let’s not mince words.”

Uli’uli shifted uncomfortably in his seat, both the floor and the chair creaking as he shifted. “Ve lost two guards zhe other evening vhile making their nightly rounds in his cellblock. Zhey were not found until zhe next morning.”

“So, what happened,” Briggs was amused, but curious.

“Zhey were found decayed, as if overcome by sickness, Sir. Little more than bones and armor remained of zhem.”

The Knight-Captain put both hands on the desk, pushing his chair out and standing over his paperwork. “So he killed them, but never left his cell.” He stood straight, tapping his finger on his chin. “He is going to be quite useful once he cooperates.”

“I’m not sure I follow, Sir. He is dangerous, even in captivity. Ve should just dispatch of him and be done with it. The risk is not worth it, vith all due respect.”

“Agreed, Constable. He is dangerous.” The Knight-Captain obviously had a solution for this problem. “Remove all other prisoners from his cell block, and seal off the entire wing. I want him to have zero outside contact until the plan is put into action. Understood?”

The Constable slowly stood up from his chair, clearly relieved to be free of his discomfort. “As you vish, Knight-Captain. I vill pass on the order myself. Any other orders, Sir?”

“That will be all, Constable. Dismissed.”
So many fallen kings, silent in their numberless graves...

Even the mighty are rendered nameless by time.

Every king must kneel before death.

- Memory of Arthas

(profile pic by: Mirodiil)
#14128649 May 13, 2019 at 03:53 PM
433 Posts
It had been weeks since his capture, Maeshkin figured. He sat motionless in the middle of his cell, legs crossed, palms on his knees. The gentle hum of the forcefield at the front of his cell faded into the background days ago. The meditation techniques he picked up in Pandaria decades ago served him better in death than they ever did in life. The Twiceborne figured it had been days since he had moved. He had learned to time the guard rotations by listening for the footsteps above him. His lack of vital functions helped him learn to hone his senses, enabling him to hear distant footsteps, and even make out conversations taking place near him.

Today Maeshkin heard different footsteps. Heavy with a short stride, possibly something metallic in the step. He gathered it was the Draenei. The footsteps grew closer, approaching him from down the long hallway. Maeshkin remained still, eyes closed, still focused.

His visitor approached the cell and stopped, looking in curiously. The Draenei was quite intrigued, studying how still Maeshkin was sitting.

“Constable, you really should look into getting some padded soles for those shoes.” The Twiceborne remained still, an air of calm and confidence coming from his voice. “Come to make a social call, or did you miss me?”

The Lightforged Draenei furled his brow slightly in annoyance, his gaze unwavering on the prisoner. “Do not flatter yourself Dark-zhong.” His accent was thick. He had great difficulty pronouncing names since leaving his home. “You friends, zhey look for you, but zhey are far from subtle.”

“They are direct, but effective. At least you will face our vengeance head on. We have no need for trickery or subterfuge.” Maeshkin’s voice remained steady, yet commanding. His eyes were still closed. He remained in his concentrated state, perhaps trying to see how excitable the Constable was in his presence.

The Constable took a deep breath, seeming to calm himself quite easily. He contemplated opening the cell and putting the cocky elf in his place, but he remained calm. He had a deep respect for the chain of command, and knew his orders.

“Vonce ve get zhe intelligence reports, ve vill be moving you into zhe field. I trust you vill do zhe right thing.”

Maeshkin betrayed a slight smirk. “Are you sure you want to do that? Whether my friends let me out of this cell, or you do, you will be the first one to die. That is not speculation, that is a guarantee, Constable.” The Twiceborne finally opened his eyes, his cold gaze unwavering.

“You vill be nozhing vithout your runeblade, Dark-zhong.” The Draenei was becoming agitated, but remained stoic in his demeanor. “I know you are most powerful vith your veapon.”

“Temper, temper, friend. You are a man of discipline, but I can hear your heart beating against your armor.” Maeshkin found the Draenei’s short temper amusing. “If you wish to keep me from my runeblade, you shouldn’t keep it so close.”

The Constable gave him a surprised look, he was not expecting Maeshkin to know the whereabouts of his weapon. “I suppose you vould have some sort of connection vith it. Such an ugly sword. Vhoever made it should be ashamed.” It almost seemed like the Draenei was baiting him now, seeing if the Knight-Captain was right about these types being overcome by their urges.

And indeed, in that brief moment, Maeshkin closed his eyes and would have a vision. A vision of running through the forcefield and pushing himself through with just enough time to rip the Draenei’s head from his shoulders before succumbing to the surely fatal wave of holy energy that would come with it.

He would open his eyes seconds later, having already calmed himself. This was a true test of his resolve, it felt like he had spent years preparing himself to be calm in this specific moment. Maeshkin would grit his teeth tightly before speaking again.

“It does not need to be visually appealing to claim the souls of the unworthy. The Darksong is merely a conduit, channeling the fury of the Goddess, and the power of death itself to consume the souls of the unworthy. You are a man of faith, yes? I’m sure you can relate.”

“Zhe Light does not need to use death as a weapon, elf. Zhe Light is power in itself, infallible. Your Goddess abandons your people and leaves zhem to certain genocide. Zhe light is unwavering. I have forged myself from it and become one vith it.” The Draenei would not be questioned on his faith.

“We are not much different, Draenei. I have taken Death and forged it to my will, becoming one with it to bring the fury of the Goddess down upon Her enemies, and you have done likewise by forging yourself in the Light. Do not forget that your people also felt abandoned on Argus, but stayed resolute in their faith for thousands of years until the Legion was defeated. Both of our deities test us, seeming fallible until realizing our faith is not in vain. Do not forget it took the Betrayer shattering one of your Gods like brittle glass to bring about your people’s greatest victory.”

The Constable paused for a moment, contemplating his response. “You are as dangerous vith your vords as you are in the field. Zhat is vhy you are here, after all. I do not, nor vill I ever have anyzhing in common vith you, savage. You vill not deter me from my duties, Dark-zhong. You vill break, and I vill be here to zhee you serve zhe proper cause.”

Being satisfied with that he had the final word, the Constable walked slowly down the hallway.

Maeshkin would close his eyes once more, remaining as calm as he was moments ago. He wasn’t as confident as he conveyed about outlasting his captors’ intentions. Something had to happen, and it had to happen soon.

So many fallen kings, silent in their numberless graves...

Even the mighty are rendered nameless by time.

Every king must kneel before death.

- Memory of Arthas

(profile pic by: Mirodiil)
#14164153 Jun 15, 2019 at 09:34 PM
433 Posts
Even with the window wide open, the Knight-Captain’s office carried a familiar smoky haze. The paperwork on his desk had been piling up a bit, especially with the time he had been spending in the field as of late. The clock on the wall told him it was just about time for his morning briefing. The Constable was always on time, never a minute late.

The heavy footsteps could be heard from yards away, and Briggs shook his head as he chewed on his cigar. “I can hear you, Constable, let yourself in.”

Uli’uli opened the door, somewhat flustered. Part of him liked the formality of knocking before entering, but informalities were something he learned to live with in his time working with Knight-Captain Briggs.

As always, after he entered, the Constable stood at attention and saluted the Knight-Captain. “Greetings, Sir. Vhat is on zhe agenda vor today?”

“Sit down, ya oaf. Why do you gotta always be so stiff.” The Lightforged Draenei would have rolled his eyes if he were able to, remarks like that always got under his skin. Reluctantly, he took a seat directly in front of the Knight-Captain’s desk.

Briggs shuffled some papers on his desk before speaking once more, breaking the silence. “Constable, is the device ready we discussed the other day?”

Nodding, Uli’uli flashed a slight grin, proud of himself. “Yes sir. Vhe just adjusted one of zhe ones ve used on Argus for zhe Eredar. It vill vork quite nicely.”

“You said this contraption can track whoever we clamp it on, then we can zap ‘em when they get outta hand?”

“Enough voltage to take down an Elekk, Sir. Zhey will obey, or zhey vill burn like kindling, Sir.”

The Knight-Captain steepled his fingers, taking a huge draw off of his cigar. “I don’t think we need to say exactly who I have in mind for this. I give you more credit than that. But what you don’t know is where and how.”

“Sir?” the Lightforged tilted his head, waiting for a response.

Knight-Captain Briggs leaned forward, sliding a number of papers in the Constable’s direction, gesturing for him to pick them up. The Constable nodded as he read, seeming to catch on to what his commanding officer was hinting at.

“Ah, zhe traders down at zhe market said zhey saw some of them in zhat area.” Uli’uli shuffled the papers in his hand, stopping at the page that had a map on it. “Stormsong Valley, zhis is vhere zhe Tidesages reported zhe peculiar energy. Curious as to vhat zhe Blood Elves purpose is zhere. Seems not zomezhing zhey would vorry about.”

“Take some of your guards, and of course the prisoner. Let our Blood Elf visitors know they are not welcome in Kul Tiras. Take prisoners if you must, gather what information you can. Do not be afraid to use excessive force.” The Knight-Captain was quite clear with his orders.

The Constable grinned as he stood up. “I vill not let you down, Sir.”

So many fallen kings, silent in their numberless graves...

Even the mighty are rendered nameless by time.

Every king must kneel before death.

- Memory of Arthas

(profile pic by: Mirodiil)
#14179423 Jul 23, 2019 at 03:32 PM
433 Posts
The lower deck of the ship was crowded and bustling. The crew was on edge and the infantry was eager to intercept the Horde. Maeshkin’s cell was small, but secure. He had been fixed with a collar, Draenei in origin of course, that was wired burn him to a crisp should he try to remove it. The Constable, Uli’uli was pacing outside the cell, determined to not take his eyes off the Twiceborne.

The ship was part of the official Alliance fleet, sent from Boralus to intercept the Horde. Rumor was that Jaina and Greymane were on the lead ship. The Constable’s orders were to bring Maeshkin to the rendezvous point and make sure the Twiceborne got some firsthand experience in the war he protested so much. The understanding was that Maeshkin was expendable, and to be used in a distraction scenario, luring as many of the Horde forces as possible away from the real objective, whatever that was.

“Do you ever tire, Constable. I feel like you’ve been pacing constantly for days.”

Uli’uli stopped briefly and looked at the prisoner. “Don’t zhink I vant to be here either. I grow tired of zhis assignment.”

Maeshkin smirked at the Draenei’s discomfort. “You’re such a charming fellow, Uli’uli of Argus. Maybe you won’t be the first one I kill when I get out of here.”

“You still zhink your friends are coming for you?” the Draenei retorted. “I doubt zhey even know we are all zhe way out here. Surely zhey would have found you by now. Kalimdor Collective, hrmph.” With that last grunt, the Constable continued pacing, finding no need to continue in pointless conversation with his prisoner.

Maeshkin could not see outside the ship from his cell, but he could hear the crash of the waves against the hull. The waters were choppy today, and he smirked to himself every time someone walked by and stumbled when the ship swayed. He had just closed his eyes to settle into his meditation ritual when he heard yelling from the deck above.

In that moment, the vessel began to rise and drop more quickly, and at sharper and sharper angles. There was a crash outside the cell as he saw the Constable lose his footing and roll awkwardly down the hallway. More yelling and crashing could be heard above deck, and the sound of the waves against the hull was deafening. This was no ordinary storm.

Maeshkin sat in his cell, bracing himself against the wall. The commotion from the above deck became louder, with a lot of tumbling and crashing as the ship bobbed and swayed more violently. With one large crack, he was thrown against the opposite wall of his cell. Water came rushing down the hallway, and began to pool under his feet. He could swear he saw sunlight as the ship began to sink at a sharp angle. The water came quickly, almost suddenly, and he found himself floating in his cell, grasping the bars on the door to stabilize himself. People and debris sailed past him as the water rushed through the ship. The Twiceborne had been witness to many violent and unspeakable things, and he knew this was going to be bad.

From what he could tell, the ship settled on the bottom of the ocean quickly. In the context of current events, he knew that being swallowed by the tides was not exactly an ideal situation. The ship was nearly vertical, and Maeshkin swam around his cell, trying to dislodge the bars on his cell. As the Twiceborne worked to free himself from his underwater cell, he felt the water start to rush past him. Was the ship moving?

Just as the hinges on his cell door gave way, the water started to quickly recede out
of the ship. He could once again see sunlight. Stunned out of sheer confusion, he climbed out of his cell as the last of the water pooled at the bottom of what was once a ship. And then there was silence, dead silence.

So many fallen kings, silent in their numberless graves...

Even the mighty are rendered nameless by time.

Every king must kneel before death.

- Memory of Arthas

(profile pic by: Mirodiil)
#14194014 Aug 17, 2019 at 04:23 PM · Edited 1 month ago
433 Posts
Maeshkin searched the wreckage of the ship he was in, looking for a weapon, but more importantly looking to see if his escort, Uli’uli had survived.

The Twiceborne was still restrained in a collar, crafted by the Draenei. It was designed to emit a slight shock when tampered with, and if the seal was broken, a precise laser would separate his head form his body nearly instantly. Uli’uli held the controls to this collar, and could shut it off if he wanted. However, Maeshkin’s plan was to relieve him of these controls and free himself one way or another.

The sight of the wreckage was gruesome. The ship was on its side, broken in half upon the sea floor, which for some reason was exposed to the open air. There were no other survivors on his ship that he could find, they were all dead. Despite the lack of survivors, there was no sign of Uli’uli. The Constable was either thrown overboard in the chaos, or he had survived and already left the wreckage.

The wet sand of the sea floor was unstable under his feet, but he stepped gingerly enough to avoid standing still for too long. To his right he observed what he though was a waterfall at first, but he didn’t hear the normal crash of the water into the ground that went along with a waterfall that large.

Maeshkin reached out to touch the water, and it was as still as a spring pond back in Feralas. It was higher and wider than he could see. Ship wreckage was scattered everywhere he looked, Boards, sails, armaments, all littered the sea floor. Whatever caused this meant business. The thoughts ran through Maeshkin’s mind almost faster than he could process them. Everything lead back to that night in Darkshore when the Collective paid tribute to the fallen and the spirits came to him.

There had been prophecies before about her return, but could this be? He had stepped into the realm of Shadows himself that day to speak with them, and they had warned him. Maeshkin realized he had been too preoccupied with the war with the Horde to really take things into consideration. Perhaps this really was the return of Azshara and the Old Ones.

The Twiceborne stood next to the unmoving wall of water, sorting his thoughts. He closed his eyes, and he knew he had to sort out the truth. If anyone were to be watching him, they would see Maeshkin fade into an ethereal form, nearly invisible. It was time to ask the spirits for guidance, and with that need for resolution, he stepped into the realm of Shadows.

As Maeshkin opened his eyes once more, all color faded from his surroundings and the sky slowly turned dark. Some called this place the Spirit World, some called it the Shadowlands. Regardless, this is where the spirits came once their physical form passes away and spirits roam for eternity. Of course, his kind had been cursed by the Scourge, destined to walk between this realm and the living realm. Caught between life and death, Maeshkin’s spirit did not completely fit into either realm, so he was doomed to walk them both. Most times he would enter this place of his own will, but other times the spirits pulled Maeshkin through during times of trauma or strife.

The Twiceborne could hear the usual chorus of whispers as he entered the Shadowlands, he tried to filter out the loudest spirits to gain some sort of guidance as to how to proceed.

“Oh look it’s this one again. A familiar voice cut through the shadows

Another voice spoke alongside the other, “Poor lost soul can never find his own way.”

The two voices materialized from the mist and shadow, they took the form of his allies, the Elder Druid Rainwhisper, and Loremaster Dusksong.

“Always so creative with your illusions,” Maeshkin replied, exasperated. “At least you were kind enough to actually manifest yourselves this time.

The illusion of the Loremaster leaned on the shoulder of the Elder Druid, appearing to be eating a sweet roll, “This one’s always been so witty, brother. If only his motives were as sharp as his tongue.”

“Perhaps the Master will help this one make up his mind. He will serve well once he lets the Master clear his mind.”

The Twiceborne was hardly fooled by the words of these illusions. “Your Master pales in power compared to the Goddess, it is through her that I serve. The might of Kalimdor and grace of Elune stand mighty in the face of your Master.”

Another illusion reveals itself from the shadows, its voice cutting through the dense fog as it had so prominently in the past.

“The Child of Elune knows not his true master. All he knows is to serve blindly. He was born to serve, he died to serve, and he will continue to serve once he lets the master in.”

The armor on this one was familiar, saronite cutting through the darkness, his
legendary runeblade at his side, eyes peering through the Helm of Domination as he had seen many times before. The Lich King’s grasp had been strong in the past, but he held no power over Maeshkin now.

This time, however, the voice of the Lich King did not cut through to the very core of his soul as it did in the past.

“Your Master will have to do much better with his deception and trickery. Is there a point to all this?” Maeshkin was allowing his impatience to show, clearly frustrated. “You waste your time if you think I will serve your Master. The Old Ones hold no sway over me.”

In that moment, a howling wind makes its approach. Coming from everywhere, and nowhere at the same time. The winds are cold, swirling around the Twiceborne as the whispers grow louder. The illusions he once saw were gone, replaced by swirling clouds of dark energy, seeming to engulf him, pushing him to his knees. The entities still speak to him in fgramiliar voices, but speaking to each other more than directly to Maeshkin.

“We warned him she was coming back.”

“He knew the Master would come with Her.”

“The Master’s plan is in place, it cannot be stopped.”

“He came right to us, just as the Master said.”

“This vessel is not ready. The Master will not be pleased.”

From his knees, Maeshkin threw punches at the energy in frustration. He rose to one knee and composed himself. He would have no more of this conversation. The Twiceborne pushed himself to his feet, closing his eyes before roaring in defiance.


As he gained focus, the dark energy around him abated. The winds grew calm. The voices were gone. As he opened his eyes, he realized he was no longer in the Shadowlands, and his surroundings grew more familiar. In front of him was a desk, maps and paperwork strewn across it just as it been left. Maeshkin felt the warm sunlight coming from the doorway behind him.

He was back in Feralas. He was somehow back in his office in Feathermoon. This was one of those times he did not want to know how he got there. Maeshkin was home.
So many fallen kings, silent in their numberless graves...

Even the mighty are rendered nameless by time.

Every king must kneel before death.

- Memory of Arthas

(profile pic by: Mirodiil)
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