TEST DRIVE MEME

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The grand feast is held in the Eaglais clearing. The food is good, the music is sweet, and the evening is lit by gentle fairy lights. All Shardbearers of all courts are summoned here under a universal truce for the evening. Nature itself has shaped itself into tables, chairs, and long couches so that the new guests can rest. When they’re ready to call it a night, Shardbearers are brought to their court strongholds in a one-way trip by fairies and imps. 02. NETWORK Take advantage of your Locket! The network can be accessed by any Shardbearer with a locket or shardless characters with enchanted devices, and is a quick way to meet new people and discuss the state of the world. 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld! There are lots of places to go, and plenty of trouble to get into in them!

Comments

koltira deathweaver | warcraft

[respired]

feast;

[Koltira lingers over a table of food, touching his shredded, bloodied neck. He's still trying to process what just happened to him, why it happened--what he ought to do now. The 'what' is the simplest part: he was hooked, bound for the Undercity, for another turn under someone else's heel. And then, abruptly, he wasn't. The portal did not bring him to Sylvanas Windrunner's kingdom. Instead, he's somewhere entirely new, full of the living, not the dead.

He picks up a wine glass, and his own black blood smears the stem, the rim. The food doesn't appeal, but he can get something from wine, provided he knocks back enough of it.

Koltira walks through the crowds like this, drinking from his goblet, his wounds oozing. His blood hisses as it touches the grass.]

[shamanism]

[Thrall smells him before he sees him. Once again he is rushing to Koltira's side, though he doesn't grab him, knowing that death knight reflexes tend to be deadly. He's clearly visible as Warchief but there is a dark purple cloak about him and various other things at his belt, feathers braided into his hair.

Try dodging this armored wall, I dare you.]

Blessed ancestors, Koltira! Just because you are undead does not mean you need to look like one. Let me see your wounds.

[respired]

[It's Thrall, but it's not quite Thrall as Koltira remembers him. Not that they're close personal friends, but Thrall is--was--Warchief, and it was by his decree that Koltira was allowed to join the Horde at all. He makes an exasperated noise in his (shredded) throat, but he comes to Thrall with no other complaint, even arching his neck so that Thrall can see clearly.]

This place took me from a painful moment.

[shamanism]

I can tell. I wish I could say this was the first time, but you showed up at your last feast like this. Brace yourself, death knight.

[He reaches up, doesn't touch, but calls upon his healing. He has been training now, so that his healing magic leans a little more on the spirit of water than that of life. It might help or it might not. Thrall figures all healing done to death knights is going to hurt.]

Do you remember anything of this world at all?

touches gently

[icebrand]

[ There were many strange sights to take in at this feast. While Ysayle much rather focus on interrogating her abductors, she's come to discover that such gestures are meaningless for now. They are conveniently too busy to attend the introductory banquet and so her questions would have to wait another day.

Meaning all she has left to focus her attention on is the feast and the other so-called Shardbearers that have been invited into the fold. She has no appetite but logic tugs at her mind, encouraging her to eat. Carrying a plate with her, she steals bites during her patrol as she takes in the sights. The taste of the food becomes enjoyable and her muscles ease up a little in relaxation.

That is until she nearly steps into something gross. That doesn't look safe. Her eyes dart around in an attempt to find the source and there he is, some abomination of an Elezen. ]

You there. [ It isn't much of a greeting, but she's not sure what to address him by. Fiend? Friend? Ysayle will find both here, she's sure. ]

[respired]

[That's a friendly greeting. Koltira pauses. Beneath his boots, the grass hisses as it burns away. He should probably do something about his blood, but. It's not a huge priority.]

Yes?

[His voice has its characteristic echoing scratch. He narrows his eyes as he looks over the woman before him--pale hair, pale lips, pale skin. A creature of winter, but not like him. Her heart beats; her blood rushes. Her ears are something like his own, but not quite. She is neither sin'dorei nor anything other kind of elf--at least, none that he's met.]