Aleros

Fri, 02 Jun 2006 07:27:50 GMT

http://loserz.scribblekid.org/index.php?id=282

So sad, so true. <3 Chaos guys.

Working on Huhuran now in AQ40, I can see how much stress Oplop goes through, and how much Rae did. It's a real pain in the ass when half the people who are really supposed to be busting their asses getting Nature Resist gear don't seem to give a damn, and having to call raids because of insufficiencies. I'm starting to see why Rae was so hard on people about the fire resist stuff. I have the urge to start enforcing DKP penalties for people slacking on the raid, cause they're really the ones holding us back. Unfortunately, I can't enforce that. However I have talked about a surprise inspection one day, and checking nature resist of everyone without any buffs at all. Then awarding DKP equal to their nature resist. Oplop seems to like the idea.

On a real life note, lots going on with school finally out. Went down to DQ and around downtown today with afew buds, good being with some of the old gang again. AX is in a month, and I'm not sure how I really feel about that. Excited partially, because I get to meet so many people. There's going to be a feathermoon meet from what I can see, and I get to meet a couple of RO friends at the beach on the 6th of July. I am however not looking forward to the shallow bitch I'll be staying with.

A week or so after I get back, going to HAWAII. All I have to say is hell yeah. We're right in between two white sandy beaches with 30 foot wave crests. Holy - shit. I've always loved surfing. Probably won't be able to do anything on those. But hell yes, that has been a childhood dream.

Been doing web stuff for monies even more now, almost enough for a new monitor and a video card.

The last sail

Thu, 22 Sep 2005 17:08:37 GMT

Fog Bound

Dense, thick fog surrounded the moderately sized vessel made of wood and steel beams. The kind of fog that a man could drown in. The ship glided over the water, pushing the fog away, groaning under the rocking of its own weight. The sail of the ship had been brought down, just hours previous when the fog had enveloped the vehicle and its lone pilot. In fog this thick, one expects there to be silence enough to hear even the subtlest of sounds, but that was far from the truth. A symphony of sounds coming from unseen sources, shrouded by the curtain of fog. Each one watched the ship as it slipped through the mist.

A pirate has lived for too long when he feels there is nothing new left to experience. When he has plundered and pillaged every possible treasure there is on the mortal plain. Left with nothing but the cold blooded desire to kill, driven by others to kill. Barbarossa taught him many things, and above all else, one of the lessons burned a hole in him. A pirate that kills not for his own personal gain is no longer a pirate, but a mere murderer.

His only farewell to Rune Midgard was a burning cigar tossed into a pile of dried up leaves in his Comodo shack. He never looked back, even as the bottles of rum ignited. A crudely built ship, once used by the Brethren was tied carelessly to the dock, easily set free from its bondage by a knife.

He didn't know the way, nor did he have a map, but the bow of the ship pointed toward the azure horizon, meeting the sky in a glorious union. Sails hefted, days moved end on end for an eternity as strange lands passed by. He pushed through storms, towering wakes and overpowering winds. His will would keep him afloat, until he was no longer willing to.

Memories from the past flooded back as the fog entered his mind. The wide open sea of Britannia, rogue water spirits that the crew had to battle to keep the sea calm. The unsuspecting merchants whose ships were plundered by the pirates...

There were no clear seas, no vast expanses of water. Just the tiny domain of the ship. Hundreds of sea dragons and wild water spirits surrounded the water, their cries of an intrusion ever eminent, but none ever approached beyond the barrier. All silently watched. This was their domain, he knew it, and payed every proper respect. These seas once belonged to him, his crew, but now the land and ocean of this world had fallen to the elemental spirits.

Loose sand scraped the bottom of the boat. Heedlessly the pilot swung his body over the edge and landed in the water, standing in the water which was now up to his knees. A presence in the water slithered away, making way to the shore.

Up the shrouded beach, the sounds of the spirits changed, he was in the domain of the earth and wind. A fierce gust pushed him back, but it did not succeed in forcing him away. Nor did he retaliate. He stared blankly ahead, until it was gone. Past the overgrown dunes, a pile of stones lay in a shapely but ruined array. His feet tread through the fallen stone. Without looking, his hand reached out slightly, touching a stone obelisk about 5 feet tall. Fingers glided down the stone, feeling the grooves and bumps that had long ago been carved into its surface. A gentle warmth filled him, the icy embrace of the mist released his body.

Lips curled into a smile. Not his usual grin, smirk, or devious snicker, but a true smile. He continued on. Golden coins flickered near his feet among the rubbel, but never reached his eyes. The mist revealed to him another erect stone, but this one time worn that one would not recognize it as something carved by the hands of man. His knees fell to the moist earth, callous hands dug into the soil, working to remove the layers of dirt. An old skeleton, buried with possessions from long ago revealed themselves, wanting to be free of their restraints, but beckoning him. His hand wrapped around the hilt of a rusted cutlass buried with the skeleton, and the ever growing presence of the earth spirits became known to him. He had disturbed them.

He's a Pirate

Reaching forward, he grasped the skull and wrenched it free of its place, half buried, covered in dirt. The skull's jaw fell open as he lifted it, pressing his lips to the upper set of teeth. As his lips parted from the pearly whites, dirt fell from his mouth. An eerie laugh resounded, echoing, for now the earth spirits were all around him, encasing him in their embrace.

"Ashes to Ashes..."

"Har... tha's my job."

Holding the skull aloft, he flipped the blade around, placing the rusted tip to his navel.

"Ah kept yer promise, cap'n..."

Mon, 15 Aug 2005 00:37:51 GMT

A note left on the wall, pinned to it was a Rose Insignia.

"Balance and revalation knocks at our doors.

Fare thee well.

Cat"

Shadowmelded, the height of the night, Aleros was well hidden from view of any who weren't looking for him. His staff in hand, he clenched it so tightly that his hand was moist and slick from sweat. His eyes flashing between the newly formed black band near the head of the staff, back to the dim lights over the hill into the crossroads.

'It's time for the offensive... enough hiding.'

Tue, 28 Jun 2005 02:55:55 GMT

Memories from four years previous~

"Finish it," growled a resentful female voice in fluent Darnassian. The Watcher lay beneath Aleros, sprawled on her back, she groaned as his great paw pressed into her stomach. The other pressed into her right arm, below the elbow to keep er from using the dagger that was firmly gripped in her hand. Despite her words, she gripped the blade defiantly. Laying many feet away was her circular Watcher blade, shattered into several pieces so that each piece reflected luminous beams in every direction throughout the dimly lit cave.

He felt the arm beneath his paw try to rise and push him off. It lifted his massive weight a bit of the way off the ground, before he applied his full strength against the arm, pushing it into the hard floor. The sound of bones snapping lingered but for afew seconds in the stale, cool air. The only other sounds accompanying it were a sharp intake of breath and the sound of a metal blade hitting the floor. He couldn't see her face, just dark pits in her helmet, not even the glow of her eyes. They were closed, and he thought he saw the glimmer of a tear.

"Can't even kill me, druid? That weak?" Her voice choked back, then the sound of spitting echoed within the helmet.

Aleros grunted, her breathing was heavy from the massive bear paw on her stomach. He had hesitated too long. The paw lifted, followed by a desperate gasp for air. It was interrupted as the paw throttled down into her exposed neck. Claws punctured her windpipe and several arteries, breathing was replaced by a gurgling sound and blood fountained into the air. It splashed into his fur, matting it down in several places.

The body beneath him relaxed and finally went completely limp.

"No!" A voice rang out in a furious rage. A large, circular blade embedded itself in his side. Someone had suddenly appeared right beside him, almost as if in a flash. A roar of pain shot out through the air and he retaliated with a blind swipe at the figure that had just appeared from nowhere. His large paw connected with something heard. The clang of metal and a hollow rolling sound echoed. He had hit the figure in the back of the head, causing it to stumble to the ground.

The figure was quick to regain its composure and came at him again, he could barely make out the face... the furiously glowing eyes, the long ears which gleamed with metallic piercings. His form quickly shifted to that of a more nimble and lithe creature, a cat with long fangs and black fur, marked with crescent moons on his forward flanks. He just barely dodged to the side, trying to catch his balance and keep from sliding too far by digging his claws into the floor.

He had to get away... Tyrande was already far on ahead. And... too much blood between himself and his own race had already been spilled..

The figure whirled about to find him in the dark, but quickly found two paws making quick slashes at its eyes. Only by ducking back quickly had she missed having her eyes clawed out, but the claws had still ripped large gashes in the skin between her eyes, two very large, prominent gashes, crossed in the shape of an X. As her vision filled with blood, Aleros made his way into the shadows, moving away as quickly as he could...

Fri, 24 Jun 2005 14:04:45 GMT

I felt something strange when my lips touched upon Vegi's scar between her eyes. I went to see the arch druid about it. With all the memories flooding back all of a sudden, he wouldn't be too surprised if she was part of them...

Thu, 23 Jun 2005 15:29:36 GMT

Rain clouds hung in the sky over the vales at the base of Mount Hyjal. Rain came down in a slow, steady, soaking drizzle. A storm crow was perched on a low branch. It was a mysteriously beautiful bird with dark feathers. Blacks, purples, dark blues covered its body. The only bright color that stood out was the thin yellow strips, one on either wing extending along the wingspan. Below the strong branches, a young night elf crouched, silently watching the storm crow; for hours he watched. Days, weeks, months were devoted to this single animal.

The druidic practice was still very young. Led by Cenarius, many night elves shunned the magical corruption that was festering in Azshara. the great and kind queen had become cold to all but her trusted highborne, the noble elves.

Aleros, still young tho this world, was not entirely learned of the corruptions of arcane magic. However, he had a keen sense for the great balance of the world. He had not known the kind queen, only in his time had he seen the results of arcana and had yet to be exposed to it himself.

He and the storm crow stared back and forth for hours, days. His body began to weaken from hunger. He became dizzy, weak, dazed, and began to fade into unconsciousness.

Awakening, he found himself perched upon a branch, right beside the stormcrow itself. It looked at him with curious eyes. His body was covered in feathers, he did not have fingers, but wings. In place of his feet were long slender talons. He was a stormcrow. Was this a dream induced by the hunger, his lack of sleep, or was it what he had been looking for... yes, this was it. He spread his wings and lept off the branch.

THUNK, the sound of a dagger blade embedding itself deep into a solid surface sounded right by his head.

"Oi, druid! Get your lazy cat ass up!" His glowing yellow eyes opened, right in front of the left eye was dagger sticking out of the bed mattress, a couple of his whiskers were cut short on the left side of his muzzle.

"If the innkeeper finds out, I'm not taking the blame," he growled lazily.

"You're always the one to blame, druid," Vegi sniggered. He turned his eyes in the direction of her voice. Her back was to him and her body was bare from the waist up. He saw the tattoo upon her backside, moving with the sway of her body as she adjusted some straps on her belt.

He arched his back, stretching his front legs out while emitting a yawn, his mouth opening wide and exposing a healthy row of gleaming white teeth. He surveyed the room for a bit, his eyes wandering over the structural supports of the dwarven room. He was about to jump off the bed when he heard Vegi's voice again.

"Fetch boy," she held out her hand as if she expected him to give her something. He saw that she had now put a leather tunic on, but the front remained unbuttoned, hanging wide open while just barely covering essential areas.

"Oi, druid, I said fetch." He looked puzzled until she pointed at the knife sticking out of the bed. He sige glanced it then gave her a you've-got-to-be-kidding look. Her palm still up, she curled her fingers as if wrapping them around something over and over.

Aleros let out a groaned then pushed himself so he was sitting on his hind quarters, his front paws on the bed. His eyes lowered and in no more than a second, his fur and the rest of his feline features melded into a tall, slender shape of a man. More precisely a night elf with light blue skin and long ears. His long shimmering white hair fell down his back, his chest muscular and his shoulders broad. The bluish skin varried in shade from one part of his body to another. The only clothing he wore was an ankle length druid's kilt in a wooden khaki color. His pupils remained as dark slits from his previous form, but as soon as he blinked them, his eyes were back to their fully yellow luminous color.

Aleros' arm reached to the dagger, grasping it in his hand. He threw it right at her head defiantly but she caught it without blinking.

"Good boy." Vegi had a triumphant and somewhat suggestive grin on her face. He grinned back in the same devious way.

His hand raised in front of his face, curling his fingers as sharp claws came out of the tips. His eyesight shifted from the claws to Vegi slowly. His voice rolling off his tongue low and smooth.

"Who are we killing today?"

"Emperor Thaurissan."

Aleros' striped frostsaber was roped up outside the giant iron gate of the dwarven capital city. Beside it, laying in the snow, was Vegi's dark nightsaber. Their ears flicked and they rose from sleep as they heard their masters approaching.

"We'll ride east through Dun Morogh, into the vicinity of Loch Modan. You think Thane there can handle it?" Aleros motioned to Vegi's nightsaber.

"Of course he can," Vegi didn't look at Aleros, who was already mounted on his frostsaber. She swung her leg neatly over the saddle, grabbing the reins, not missing a beat of the conversation. "He's tougher than you think." She quickly added, turning about before descending the steep incline into Dun Morogh.

The snow fell and danced through the morning air, the ground coated in the fluffy white powder year-round. The two tigers that trudged through the snow drifts left shallow paw prints in their wake.

The two rode through the morning, the sun shone through the clouds in tiny, thread-wide beam. Otherwise the sky was in dark clouds, the morning quiet save for the sounds of waking wildlife.

The path veered upward into the mountains, but quickly sloped down into a dark tunnel. Not even hesitating, the two plunged into the darkness on their mounts.

In tune with the land...

Tue, 07 Jun 2005 11:23:49 GMT

(( New character profile, new gamem WoW baby~ ))

Name: Aleros
Class: Druid of the Talon
Race: Night Elf
Age: 10,314
Hair: Long, silky white with bangs parted and falling down right in front of his ears.
Eyes: Faintly yellow glowing.
Height: 7'5"
Weight: 210
Blood: Unkown
Voice: Deep, smooth and molodic

Build: Long slender legs and mid section, with a well built upper body and strong arms.

Noticeable features and/or actions: As a druid he is in tune with nature and a firm believer in the balance of nature. As such he's had a great deal of training in the druidic ways, having control over many beasts and even in some instances has the ability to change into some beasts. Originally a Druid of the Talon, able to transform into a Storm Crow, after the Great War, the bird spirits present within the Emerald Dream that gave the Druids of the Talon their power have disappeared. As such, he has taken up training under the Cenarion Circle and the Druids of the Claw. Thus, he is able to change into feline (cat) and ursine (bear) forms and harness their feral strengths and agility.

Personality: He doesn't speak often, letting his actions speak in place of words. At times he can be a shameless flirt while others he can be very serious. He prefers to keep to himself and to only those that he is close to, but does not mind mingling. Some of his words and actions are questionable in nature, sometimes so much so that one cannot really determine what "side" he is on. Once a firm believer in honor and justice, over time he found himself disliking the bias brought about by such ideas, what was honorable and right to one particular side wasn't necessarily to another thus he is now more of a firm believer in a balance of power among all things.

Items/equipment: Wildheart Raiment, leather robes designed with the feathers and symbols of the Talon Order, someday hoping to gain full recognition within the Cenarion circle so that he can wear the regalia of a Cenarion druid. He most often weilds a staff, but is known to pick up a war hammer from time to time. Otherwise in his feral forms, his claws do most of the flesh ripping.

Family: At the moment, none that are known of, however it is rumored that he has a brother.

Housing: His home lies within the dense forests of Ashenvale and Moonglade, along the bases of Mount Hyjal, however in the ever adventurous world, he stays just about anywhere he can get a good night's sleep.

Past: Originally a Druid of the Talon, he was one of the original druids taken under the teachings of Cenarius and later Shando Stormrage. When the first war with the Burning Legion was at an end, he entered the Emerald Dream with all the druids in the order, sleeping for nearly 10,000 years, during which time he had multiple visions in the dream, not all of his world or even of the Emerald Dream itself. Upon awakening from his slumber, he assisted Tyrande in the fight against the Burning Legion's second attempt upon their world, and eventualy fought at the very base of The World Tree against Tychondrius himself. His need to see the world in balance brought a great hatred for The Burning Legion and their multiple attempts upon the world, leading him to gladly participate in any crusade against them, even lending his services to a demon hunter known as Illidan... However, most of the facts about his past he does not openly speak of.

Sun, 22 Feb 2004 22:27:17 GMT

[ Character profile :

Name : Sir Bryan Blackthorn (Baraburry the Bard)
Height : 6' 3"
Age : 23
Body Type : Slightly built, average weight, slightly longer arms and legs than normal
Job : Bard
Hair : Parted and smooth, Red
Eyes : Gold
Siblings : Three Sisters
Home Town : Leone Tralia
Personality, Background, etc : Hailing from a land outside Rune-Midgard, Baraburry made his way to Rune-Midgard when he heard that excitement, magic and adventure were plentiful in the land. The son of a powerful noble in his own land, he became a wandering story teller against his family's wishes. He leads a rather carefree and high risk life-style, fearing neither pain nor death, but rather, feeling that by living on the edge, he is fulfilling his existance.

Note : I have to decide between this character and my rogue. @_@; ]

Fri, 20 Feb 2004 20:10:58 GMT

[ Character Profile time :

Name : Holden Mist
Height : 6' 7"
Age : 20
Body Type : Tall and slender
Job : Blacksmith
Hair : Short and slightly messy, Sandy Brunette ( Sometimes covered in soot and sweat )
Eyes : Brown
Siblings : Myann
Home Town : Al De Beran
Personality, Background, etc : Born in Al De Beran, Holden spent a lot of time helping his father with his job, tinkering with the clocks and other mechanical devices that Al De Beran revolves around. He was really interested in taking up a job as a tinekerer and silversmith, but his dream was to become a great blacksmith, making fine weapons for everyone. He likes to spend a lot of time in coal mine looking for precious metals to help with his forging, so it's not too strange to find him covered in black soot. He has a very outgoing nature, and while clumsy, is very polite. He has a disposition to love everyone, but he has a particularly special place in his heart for his sister.

Name : (Has yet to be determined)
Height : 6' 1"
Age : 19
Body Type : Average height and weight
Job : Priest
Hair : Short and neatly kept, White
Eyes : Red
Siblings : Unknown
Home Town : Prontera
Personality, Background, etc : Born as an illegitimate child, his mother abandonned him at birth. She was only 15 at the time and could not stand the thought of claiming the child of the man who had raped her as her own. He has no knowledge of any relatives, all he has is a rosary that his mother left him with as a baby. Although he was raised by the church, he is very rebellious and a playboy. While he typically ignores men except for the bare basic necessities of every day interactions, he tends to flirt shamelessly with women and girls of just about any age - anyone that he finds attractive. While the church doesn't approve of this sort of behavior, he generally hides it whenever he's around the high priests and bishops.

Name : (Has yet to be determined)
Height : 5'11"
Age : Unknown
Body Type : Short and stalky with broad shoulders
Job : Rogue
Hair : Messy, Blonde
Eyes : Unknown
Siblings : Unknown
Home Town : Morroc desert
Personality, Background, etc : Not much is known about him, he hails from the Morroc desert and was raised in those harsh conditions. He's survived by stealing any food or money that he can get his hands on. He cares for no one but himself and most of the time would rather be left alone. He adorns his head with the wings of a demon, fashioned into a crude headband, and he wears a mask since his face was seriously injured awhile back, enough to where many of his features were badly distorted. Although he is rather short, he just uses that as a way to more easily conceal himself, and does quite a good job at despite his being rather broad.

These are all characters that I'm making in the future with the character slot expansion, I'll put my current characters in the next entry. ]