Transformation: In which a Naaru calls a Gnome

The chiming voice was soothing, calming, and warm. It filled my mind, and pushed back the dark thoughts and feelings that had nearly overwhelmed me... feelings that I thought I had completely overcome. It seems that the Lich King had trained me too well.

{Bring her to me} it chimed again, a little louder, as though to drown out my dark thoughts of death and blood.

I obeyed, leaning over her to gently scoop Yrovi up. Sebbat, Tyra, Karrim, and the still slightly shaken Cobb followed close behind me to the central chamber in Shattrath. There, hovering above the dais, in bright, shining glory, was A'dal. It was A'dal's chiming voice that urged me forward with Yrovi in my arms. The Naaru's voice was more obvious here, and yet not overwhelming. A little spark of hope flared in my cold heart.

I placed her beneath the great Naaru and bowed my head low. "Please," I said, quiet, pleading. "Please. Save her. If you can, save her. She deserves your mercy."

The light from the floating being of Light pulsed a bit and radiated down onto Yrovi's prone form.

{Mercy? An interesting word to use, Death Knight. Interesting, but fitting, perhaps, for one such as you. Yrovi had mercy, too. She, unlike so many of the Forsaken, clung to old memories of love, kindness, and hope. Through her strong will, she did not dispair, did not turn fully to the darkness of vengeance and hatred so common amongst the undead.} The song-voice turned a little sour, slightly off key, as though sad. {And she will need all her willpower now, as her soul has been shredded and pulled into the Nether by some old power.}

I clenched my fists and shut my eyes tightly. No wonder Cobb could not pull her soul into his crystal... it is beyond the reach of any mortal, now.

"Please!" I pleaded again, more urgently, knowing every minute that passed could be her last. "If there is anything you can do, great Naaru, do it! She means a great deal to us. To me."

I hadn't wanted to admit the truth about my feelings for her. I hadn't wanted to admit that she made me feel alive, and whole, and truly free. I hadn't wanted to admit that she made me feel love again. It shouldn't have been possible. I shouldn't have wanted it so badly. Yet... here I was, practically on my knees before a being that should make me cower in shame, begging for aid. Me, a Death Knight, a former member of the Scourge, an undead killing machine, begging...

{Let us see what can be done, then, Purah Bloodblade, though you may not like the choice that must be made, and it will not be you alone who will make it.}

The chiming in my mind grew louder then and seemed to spread out, into the world and beyond. The air grew still, then almost warm, and then hot. I closed my eyes, feeling the pressure build and wondering what the Naaru had done, when I heard a tiny pop and the heat and pressure vanished.

A high-pitched, bubbly voice spoke out, "Goodness, A'dal. If you needed to see me so badly, I wish you'd find another way to call on me. That was a bit uncomfortable." I spun around quickly, my runeblade finding its way to my hand automatically, before I realized just who it was.

"Chronormu," Sebbat said, his voice deep and full of respect. He nodded a greeting to the tiny gnome dressed in white and bronze. My eyes grew wide, as I had only heard stories of the well-known dragon of the bronze flight. Somehow, I had expected someone taller... and more... male.

The little gnome giggled quietly and returned the greeting, then turned to each of my comrades in turn. "Tyralina, hello again! And Karrim and Cobb still together, I see... huh, strange. Or is it not? Sorry, I do lose track of timelines now and again." The two undead glanced at each other, obviously wondering if the dragon-gnome was speaking of the past before they met, or of a future event yet to come. She turned to me then, a small smile on her face. "Oh. Purah Bloodblade. We meet at last. Or, have we met before?"

I shook my head, wary of the dragon. "No, we have not, though I am hoping that if A'dal brought you here, it is to help Yrovi." At the mention of the undead warrior's name, Chromie glanced past my legs to see the comatose Forsaken. "Oh, dear... what happened? This doesn't seem familiar to me at all..."

She pushed past me and knelt by Yrovi's side. "This wasn't meant to be in her timeline, A'dal. Someone or something has meddled with her." Chromie was silent, then, her head tilted up slightly as though listening to something. A'dal's voice, no doubt, speaking words mere mortals aren't meant to hear. My eyes narrowed in distrust as my inner voice grew bitter. I knew, deep in my heart, that I had no right to ask grand favors of creatures like the Naaru or the dragons. I had done horrific things in service of the Lich King, and I had not been a brave soul in life, either. I had a great deal of blood on my hands. Still, Yrovi had done heroic things, great things, in service of the Argent Dawn and the Horde...

{Listen now all friends of Yrovi. You who are her closest friends and allies must make a choice and it must not be made lightly.}

The chiming seemed a little off key to me, as though unsure. I turned to stare up at the Naaru's glittering form, my mind set and prepared.

"What choice, great one?" asked Sebbat.

A pause as the chiming nearly stopped entirely. {You much choose if Yrovi lives... or truly dies again.}

((Fail for me. Not only did I initially use the triangular-shaped brackets for A'dal's voice (which cause the text to dissapear, since it's used for HTML code) but I didn't save the Naaru's speech, so I had to write it again. Also, I totally realized that the first part of Transformation was written in third person perspective instead of first, so I'll have to go back and fix that, too. The story is nearly finished, and I'm really pleased with it, surprisingly. Most of the stuff I write I end up disliking at some point (like Brothers, which I'm actually in the process of reworking entirely), but I'm really digging this one.))

Transformation: In which healing fails

Sebbat, changed into a living tree, swayed back and forth, chanting quietly, his amber, bark-covered limbs glowing brightly with the power of his healing magics. Yrovi lay on the ground at his roots, bathed in the green light. Tyra, a Sin'dorei paladin, had joined the druid in his work, and the golden power of the Light flowed and intertwined with the power of nature.

I watched, silent, worried. Though I could tell that both of them were pouring all their power and knowledge into helping her, she didn't awaken... she didn't even move. I sat quietly, unmoving, my gaze unwavering, with the patience that only the dead have. I didn't even stir when I was joined on each side by familiar Forsaken.

"No change, then?" asked the one on my right, his voice gravelly. I said nothing. He shrugged a bit, and watched our leader and the paladin work. His companion glanced my way, but said nothing... though this was not unusual, since he was missing his jaw. Karrim and Cobb, a mage and warlock, one rarely seen without the other. The warlock's imp minion opened his mouth to speak, but, thankfully, Cobb silenced him with a kick. The last thing I wanted to hear was that screeching voice, no matter what it was meaning to say.

Slowly, the glow from Sebbat and Tyra faded, and I could see sweat beading on the lady's face. Even Sebbat appeared ashen, his usually golden leaves almost grey in the starlight. Yrovi still hadn't moved.

The paladin approached me, her face wary. "Purah," she began, and my gaze shifted from the comatose warrior to her green eyes. She winced and took a half step back, but continued, "We don't understand... Everything we do, every spell we use, all the power we pour into her body and soul is simply absorbed. Nothing we do seems to work. I'm... I'm so sorry."

She moved to lay a hand gently on my arm, but Karrim blocked her, shaking his head. He knew me well, and knew that the last thing I wanted was a comforting touch. I felt cold inside... empty and dark, and I could feel my eyes unfocus as her words set in. "Nothing?" I stood slowly, feeling a dangerous strength build inside, and though Tyra was tall, I still stood over her. "Nothing?" My voice was nearly a whisper, but it hit her with force, and she took another step back, her expression worried. My fingers twitched near my runeblade's hilt.

"Enough, 'Rah," the undead mage said, quickly moving to block my path. "We'll find something that will help, some way to bring her back, pull her out of this..."

I didn't notice that Cobb had pushed past us, his tattered robes sweeping the stone as he shuffled quickly over to Yrovi. His imp cowered a bit, but followed obediently after. The jaw-less warlock pulled out a ceremonial dagger, one that had seen a great deal of use, from the looks of it, and used it to cut open Yrovi's arm. I wanted to stop him, but if Sebbat and Tyra couldn't save her, then I'd let him try, no matter how terrible the magic.

She had no blood to bleed, but the athame didn't seem to need actual blood for whatever spell the warlock was hatching, as a stream of dark magic pulsed between him and Yrovi as soon as the cut was made. His yellow eyes glazed over and flickered, and what was left of his face contorted into a grimace of what appeared to be pain. I knew something was wrong when even his imp began to keen. He shuddered, then, and collapsed to his knees, but still the spell continued, unwavering, through his sheer force of will.

I moved to stand at his side, and though I wasn't fond of Cobb, or his magic, I placed a hand on his bony shoulder to steady him. He seemed lost in his spell, whatever it was, and reached into his robe to pull out a light-purple crystal, a soul shard, I realized. The magical bind that linked him to our warrior pulsed and brightened, swirling up and into the crystal. It filled it with light... and then vanished, the spell broken. Yrovi remained still, and Cobb seemed exhausted with the effort. The soulstone was dark.

His imp coughed and sputtered, clutching at its neck, "It... it was too powerful... the thing, the blackness that has her. I couldn't pull her out. I couldn't..." The voice was forced, and less grating than usual, and I guessed that Cobb had spoken through the little demon. I squeezed his shoulder in silent thanks, though the demon looked irritated.

"You tried, at least. For that, I thank you," I said quietly, so that the warlock alone could hear. I felt as I had when I had died. I could feel nothing but pain, and my mind was clouded with grief. Cold gripped my heart and turned it to stone, just as it had when I had been raised from the dead to serve the Lich King... and then, I heard a gentle chiming in my head, and a warm light that melted my frozen heart again, pushing back the cold.

{Bring her to me.}

Transformation: In which there is a hasty flight

I could feel her leaving, feel the energy behind her golden-glowing eyes fading faster with every moment, and my still heart was aching at the thought of losing her. I can't bear to think of whatever fate awaits her if that light slips away.

My skeletal gryphon shifted and twitched as I laid her quickly, but gently, over the saddle, praying silently that whatever was wrong, whatever had harmed her would release it's hold, that she would blink and sit up and scold me in her echoing voice for worrying about her as she so often did. But she didn't, and her eyes remained dim.

Not a sound, no movement at all and I had to fight the urge to yell or strike her, anything to get a response of some kind...

"Yrovi, I swear to the gods, if you don't come back from this, I will hunt your soul down and drag you back myself," I whispered, my voice strangely hoarse and angry and raw. It shouldn't even be possible to feel this way, to have this ache in my chest where my once-beating heart rests, feel the constriction around lungs that no longer need breath, but I do feel it... and it was more painful than the lashes from the Succubus demons they had been fighting, more painful than the fel-fire burns I bore, so painful, in fact, that I wanted to trade places with her, just to escape the alien emotions that were clouding my mind.

The rush of the wind as the undead gryphon took to the sky on bony wings calmed me. It was cooler in the air above the fiery peninsula, the wind less heavy with fire, and ash, and sand. Already a call had gone out to the others, a plea for aid, and they were coming. "Meet in Shattrath," Sebbat had said, his voice strong and sure over the communication stone they all carried. "Tyra and I shall meet you there to heal Yrovi of whatever is harming her."

***

Shattrath was quiet, the night sky overhead clear. It would be almost beautiful under any other circumstances, but I didn't notice as we glided in to land in the upper ring of the city. A large, horned cat stepped out of shadows and transformed into an even larger, horned tauren. He nodded a silent greeting, but I cared little for formalities when Yrovi was this ill. I pulled her down from the saddle and cradled her in my arms, armor and all.

"She's dying, Sebbat. She's dying again, and I can't stop it from happening."

((A quick explanation for this story: I server and faction switched Yrovi some time ago in order to have a level 80 character on the same server that my RL friend was on for access to gold, heirloom items, run throughs, etc. Because of this, I of course imagined how it would be explained in terms of RP or a story that fit the Warcraft universe, and Transformation started coming about. I'll be borrowing some famous NPCs from WoW, including A'dal and the one and only Chronormu (aka Chromie) of the Bronze flight, along with my interpretations of some old characters that belong to previous guildies of mine. Enjoy.))

Preparation: Loem of Gilneas

Cataclysm is coming. It looms closer and closer, excitement building crazily. I can hardly wait.

Even my guild is starting to prepare for the ending of the world... of warcraft... as we know it. The progressive raiding group in the guild has begun making plans for the chaos of having to level up again and how to deal with raiding once they get enough level 85 characters. People are talking about alts and who they will be and how this will change their characters. It's very exciting.

What is even more exciting is a new house within my guild, one that is starting entirely in preparation for the coming Worgen race. I would classify the guild as a whole as lawful good, for the most part, though a few of the houses might be a bit more lawful neutral. Wait... is that an option? Lawful neutral? I've never actually been that familiar with these categories, to be honest, as I think they're a DnD thing, which is something I've never played.

Anyway, the houses in my guild usually show unity by having a uniform and a specific mount and such to wear for RP events. What's totally awesome to me, is that the planned RP clothing I had already collected for my future rogue is the house's uniform... the Silver-Thread set. It's a beautiful set, honestly, and just about perfect for the house's theme. The mounts will be Silver War Talbuks, which will be fun to grind out. I've never, on any character, gotten enough reputation to purchase a Talbuk. They're very cool looking, though, so I'm excited.

As for other things for him, I've prepared a wish list that I've already started on. I'm getting Loem the Stained Shadowcraft Shoulders and Tunic, and probably at least one of the heirloom daggers (probably the Balanced Heartseeker). In fact, the tunic is taken care of already, though another alt is borrowing it for just a little while longer, 'till she hits Northrend, at least. It won't take me long to get the other things, as I'm doing the tournament dailies, rather than using Emblems.

Other preparations include getting bags and such for him, as well as certain materials and things. All that's left, really, is to ensure his story checks out. The story on this site is sort of the semi-polished draft, the story as I thought of it, with a bit of rewriting and reworking. It can change, and probably will change, before the cataclysm. Besides, I don't actually know the true Worgen story, yet, and that will need to be integrated as well before he becomes a truly solid RP character.

So much to do, and less and less time!

Starfall

It happened suddenly, unexplained. A gift of the titans, perhaps, or a Kirin Tor experiment gone awry in Ulduar. The true nature was unknown. Where they came from, why they appeared... it didn't matter. But they were beautiful, and shining, and remarkable.

The heavens were clear, the night sky dark, but strewn with stars of all sizes and brightness, as though sparkling crystals hung suspended in the vastness of the surrounding dark, high above. Then, suddenly, some unseen hand or force cut the strings. Hundreds, thousands, of stars cascaded down from the sky, a rain of crystal and light. Some fell slowly, others swift, a chaotic swirl to the earth, grouping together into clusters that took form.

Constellations on the move. They coalesced into familiar shapes; winged steeds of the stars. The people looked up in awe and they traveled down, shining, glittering, beautiful. A gift of the heavens.

The Celestial Steeds of the sky have arrived.