NationStates Jolt Archive

WAR IN THE UNDERKINGDOM

Though long departed from native Northrend, the Ice World upon which the Scourge first took root and emerged triumphant, the Lich King still possesses an active interest in the runnings of his defacto capital. The Icecrown, the immense Fortress Vessel that serves as the true symbol of Scourge might and as the mobile capital of the Undead race, has at last returned to Northrend for essential maintenance and diplomatic functions, yet finds itself confronted by a menace from within the world itself.

Rebellious Nerubians, leftovers from the ancient Nerubian Empire whom the Scourge subjugated and almost totally destroyed, have emerged to terrorise those loyal to Ner'zhuls reign. Intent upon eradicating this early menace to his reign, Ner'zhul deploys several Nerubian Hive Vessels to deal with their living kin, disgorging thousands of Nerubis Warriors, Crypt Fiends in the truest sense of the expression, and Undead Auxiliaries.

This, however, is but one problem which serves as a set back to the Scourge's ambition.

THROUGH FIRE AND FLAME.

Upon the Scourged world of Quel'thelas, hope springs anew for the indigenous Elvish who stood proud against the Scourge. Calling themselves Blood Elves, while others cling to their roots, and surrendering to vengeance they rejected the C'tan offer of aid, and instead have set up a guerilla war against the occupiers upon Quel'thelas. As the Scourge moves to unlock the secrets of Elvish magicks and the power of the Thalassian Well-Water which now serves as replicatable and wide-spread fuel and energy source, The Blood Elves strike from the shadows, intent upon liberating their world.

It is a time of darkness, one through which the Scourge must survive or suffer, at home and abroad.

------------------------

OF DARK HISTORY, is an RP idea whereby some areas of my history which I wish to bulk up and play out will be RPed prior to their inclusion in my completed racial history. Those interested are invited to try their hand at Rping as the native Nerubians or Blood Elven Resistance movement, against the might and horror of the Scourge. An RP sample in character, as pertaining to this RP, should be posted by those interested. As is suspected, I will RP the Scourge in its current technological facilitation, and may invite those who show promise to RP alongside me as various Scourge generals, etc.

THOSE WHO PERFORM WELL SHALL NOT ONLY BE PART OF MY HISTORY, BUT ALSO MIGHT BE CALLED UPON LATER, OR INCLUDED AS PLAYED CHARACTERS WITHIN MY NATION.

------------------

SIDES:

SCOURGE:
Icecrown Glaciar
Telros

NERUBIANS:
Azaha
Mythrandir

BLOOD ELVES:

ElectronX
Tidan

Bump

Well, this is going better than I'd hoped...

Anyone?

Bump

Some comments would at least be nice...

:'( Bump....?

Can't believe no one is interested...

Last bump of the night, hopefully someone will apply or at least show the most basic interest. If a thread about Yu-gi-oh can attract attention, what can't?

Sorry this isn't a post with a RP sample lol, but I got some questions.

This RP sounds interesting, but it seems as though I require Warcraft 3: The Frozen Throne knowledge. Is that true?

Also, is this a character oriented RP or a Nation/Army oriented one?

Finally: For the RP sample, would it be a sample from a previous RP or a sample of what we'd write?

This sounds really interested but I've never done a nation/army RP before and I haven't played the expansion pack to WC3 lol

Quite simply I'm the Scourge in space, I'd only really expect you to know what to be fielding, details which I could easily provide. WC3 knowledge isn't nessecary beyond basic, mostly because I've modified the format to be in space and thus magnify its awesomeness.

Depending on what side you chose, I expect a sample post based on what you would write in this thread. Primarily it is character with army backup, thus character and army/nation RP would be needed.

*Lurks behind Blastit*

I'm interested as well. I've never played or done anything Warcraft-related but I'm an experianced (And bored) RPer whose done quite a few large-scale RPs in the past.

Well, I am somewhat interested but at the moment, I'm not in much of the mood to begin RPing armies lol.

But I'll think about it (if you don't mind) because it does sound like a fun/good RP

If you do have any problems playign an army yuo are more than welcome to take a Character only role.

Hey ICG; I'll see if I can't get a sample post up. However, I'm busy as hell - not that I am necessarily special or anything - so that might be the most you'd get from me -_-;;

Your a welcome friend, ally and I value your ability as an RPer :) Your more than welcome, no matter the contribution

I know our contact was when i had my head up my ass and couldn't RP worth a shit, but can i have a second chance? If not i understand.

I know our contact was when i had my head up my ass and couldn't RP worth a shit, but can i have a second chance? If not i understand.

Assuming you post a decent sample post and be good...Sure, why not

Any more takers? Hell, any of the ponderers got a sample ready? Don't be shy now...:P!

Bump-eth

Bumpies...Come on people...

This annoys to no end...Maybe I'll make other threads...Or maybe I'll just give up

I have never played a warcraft game but I would like to take on the Blood Elves if you don't mind and could provide me some clue as to what I should give you a sample post of. I mean I can come up with a random elvish post without problem but it might not fit with what you have in mind.

http://www.wowwiki.com/Blood_Elf

That might help

(Well let's see if I can type up a fair post with the link you provided me. I can tell it's going to take me some time to learn about the elvish realm in warcraft.)

Streaks of sunlight pierced the darkness below the lush green canopy above. Wherever there was light, there the remainder of the Blood Elves stood. Tall and proud. Palms were turned upward in praise as they basked in the suns warmth and were nourished for the day. Like all living beings, the sun above gave life and fed an inner strength within each elf. Songs of praise and thanks drifted throughout parts of their reclaimed homeland. It drifted from forest floor to tree bough as a haunting melody of rejoice, sadness, loss, and vengence. Always was there the desire for revenge against the infidels that had scarred their lands and poisoned the earth.

A thousand golden robes swayed in gentle breezes and shone brilliantly in the dying sun's radiance. With their ritual complete, every robe was shed revealing elvish armor and their various weapons. Night was soon following and with the sun's death, so to would their enemies fall before them. A thousand jovial faces were replaced with cold hard determination for the nights work ahead. They were going back to the age of moving around in the darkness, using the shadows as their ally.

With weapons in hand, they moved through the forest like a silent plague cleansing away all impurities. The armies of the dead would be cleasned from their homeland through grit and sheer stubborness. Everynight they went out raiding supply lines or engaging small bands of the armies of the undead. Everynight they hoped that just once, they would stumble across the Lich King. The thought of an elvish blade piercing his undying body, an arrow piercing his eye, or the blade of an assasin slitting his throat ear to ear was etched in every Blood Elf's mind. It was the sole thought that ever brought a smile to their face.

Constant raiding and minor skirmishes from the darkness had turned the elves into wraiths from the forests. Even some of the lesser creatures thought them long dead elvish armies risen once again to do battle with some unknown enemy. They were very real, and the bite of their blades were just as real. The bodies they left in their wake, were also very real.

Shivers ran down the spines of any who fell under the moonlit shadow as if death itself had reached out and touched their shoulder. To those that knew, Blood Elves on the march were wrath and vengence incarnate. Woe to those who impeded their designs and woe to those who fell on the wrongside of the battlelines.

(This is what I could come up with for now. It can be FTified later, especially once I've read more on the blood elves :( )

The ethereal forces of arcane power flowed through his fingers like a river's implacable tide, the same vibrant chroma of dusks twilight, the embers of hate burned within his eyes. Focusing upon the boiling brine of anathema that rolled around him.

The field was immaculate in a disgusting way; an endless ocean of roving undead monsters, their bones chattering like hollow bird calls with each unholy step, permeating an air thick with their fetid decay.

It was once a lush field of grass; waving like the arms of playing children in a gentle summer wind.

It was once an endless sea of life rolling over each hillock and flowing through each tree. From the largest hawk to the smallest buzzing bird, avians of all flavors flocked about an unblemished sky. Now it had all gone to the scourge.

A roving beast that sought to engulf the elder mage Ta'lon Dandro and his small horde of disenfranchised followers as they waited atop a defiled hillock, a futile defense of a land they never should have dared reclaim.

Where the only remains of once vibrant vegetation, were many twisting vines, clawing feebly with gnarled fingers at anything that fell within their reach. Vines that rended the dreams of Ta'lon and his followers, dreams of a home before the invasion; before the scourge, before fate turned against them.

Trees that once held a lively green chroma and a stout constitution, now drooped and hung like glass warped by an unfathomable heat. Pillaged of their once broad leaves, leaving only brittle arms of blackened wood behind. Trees that Ta'lon once climbed when he was young, so many hundreds of years ago, trees that offered an expansive view of a home now scorched from existence.

With every passing moment hate seethed ever faster. With each passing memory, the fires of rage flared ever brighter. He could feel the blood boil like water over an untended stove, threatening to engulf him in a blind explosion of emotion. His knees began to tremble, and his vision began to blur.

Brothers, sisters; friends and neighbors. Hundreds he once knew, all melting into the macabre universe that was reality. Feelings of happiness and security quickly blended with those of untold depression and terror. Images once thought forgotten, feelings once believed to be destroyed. Returning in a furious flood of debilitating pain.

Then it stopped.

Time stopped; emotions faded, memories were again suppressed. It was only Ta'lon Dandro, his warriors, and the undead horde scaling the flanks of the hillock with eyes of verdant fire.

"Fire!" He could hear one of his warriors shout over the cacophonous roar of an air shattered by the grotesque cries of that which once lived and breathed as he did, that which once walked and talked as he did: that which was once his family long, long ago.

Arrows fell like an iron rain, alite with flame, causing zombies and ghouls to burst into golden pyres of screaming decay. Swords slashed into that merciless tide, cleaving through the undead's frail forms. And bursts of arcane fury annihilated entire columns of the terrible Scourge with each incantation spoken from Ta'lon's lips.

It wasn't enough. It was never enough. For every one ghoul that fell, twenty more would take its place. Gnawing slowly through the defender's encirclement, even against the irreproachable attacks of doomed elves.

One by one, they fell beneath the tide of shambling soldiers. Letting out a cry of terrible agony as each abhorrent abomination tore their soul from their ancient bodies. A cry that resonated in Ta'lon's ear like those miserable memories that he had suppressed only moment ago. A chorus of pain to underscore the cinematic hell of his flashing memories.

Then the cries stopped. All his brothers slain before a monsters' insatiable appetite of destruction. Closing in on him with the same fury that his kin had tried to hard to hold back, a fury that had been just as malignant as it had been hundreds of years ago.

He raised his hands, open palmed into the air. Arms stretched as far as his physical body would allow. Energy flowed like a torrent of blazing fire between his fingers, around his body, through his body, into his very soul as the anger was unleashed in one final act.

His body was annihilated, obliterated in an all-consuming sphere of fiery incandescence. Lightning arched from this point into the fields, blasting the rampaging scourge from the earth with each sweeping strike of arcane electricity. Shattering the air with a thunderous roar that echoed through the valley like the cries of Ta'lon Danro's fallen kin and comrades when the Scourge first came to their once peaceful valley.

Lightning struck again and again, falling in sheets of dazzling energy like a maiden's hair. Or just as javelins of scintillating emerald inferno, dancing like a rabid snake across the field, carving through the hillocks like a sword through naked flesh.

Fire blazed in great pyres, exploding into great columns of searing heat the chroma of blood and gold. Sweeping over the land as water once did so many centuries ago.

Then they were gone. The fire was extinguished, the lightning stopped falling. hough, so to was the menace gone, that macabre abomination that had despoiled the region of its natural beauty. With only a persisting column of smoke presiding over it all, a white miasma that took on the surreal form of a face, carved out of righteous fury. Facing in all directions, daring another wave of evil to return to defile its precious home.


(OOC: Something I threw together; sorry that I am not all that familiar with WoW in any way -_-;; )

OOC: Surely you jest, that was magnificent, utterly brilliant! Both of you!

Two new Blood Elf players...Anyone else for Scourge? Or Nerubians? More Blood Elves?

bump

bump

Bump

AH WC3 TFT. Fun times. I will get a sample post up soon. Scourge baby!

Bumpeth!

Bump!

His heart pounded in his chest as he pushed himself through the woods, fighting to keep his legs moving. Well that went badly. He thought.

Shala'Danil Farsight had barely escaped with his life when the raid he had been a part of went sour. What had originally been a small strike on an ammo dump of small importance turned into a blood bath. Bad timing became fatal when a fresh scourge detachment showed up to releave the base's defenders only to find them under assault. The Blood Elves were crushed between the two enemy groups. Shala was at this moment the only surviver, due mainly to his generations of Ranger blood and life long training, but how long that would last was yet to be seen.

Shala forced down the lump in his throught that taunted his cowardice at running each time he tried to swallow. He could hear them behind him, the undead were being as noisey as they were persistant. He was still outrunning them and now only a few dozen were keeping pace, but he was starting to slow.

The forest broke and he had to be quick to stop so that he didn't go sailing off the edge of the cliff before him. Shala blinked in the bright sunlight, he let its warmth ease his suffering for a moment. That moment ended quickly as the sound of his pursuers neared. Turning back to the forest he drew an arrow to his bow. Whispering a soft enchantment the taught arrow's head began to glow a soft golden hue.

Keen eyes, a result of generations of breeding, noticed the first sign of the monsters emerging from the wood and his first arrow flew. It shot through the underbrush piercing metal and bone. The ghoul took several more steps out of the wood as its momentum carried it until it fell on its back, arrow through its skull. And then the rest came. Shala's hands moved with saving purpose and the enchants from his lips became a song that seemed as though it would never end.

The bodies were piling up in the short distance between the trees and cliff. Shala drew his last arrow and killed one more skeleton before dropping his bow to the ground and drawing his twin daggers. He dodged and spun parrying blows with both blades. Slashes and wounds were openning all over his body and blood ran down his face, but still he gave as good as he got. His whole life had been leading to this time, it would either provide a glorious death of revenge or prove to be worthy of his survival.

Shala strained through the blood, sweat, and tears of pain to see now only a few stood against him. His mind fought with his body, which was now fighting on adrenaline and instinct, trying desperately to inject some forethought into his actions. Four...Three...he took a deep wound to the leg...Two.

Two were left and he let a grimace turn slowly into a smile as he faced his last assailants. It quickly faded as behind them the trees parted and an abomination pushed through followed by another group of soldiers.

Shala let the depression flood over him as the sun was banished by cloud and the rain began to fall. But from deep inside a fire burned to the surface. He cut down the two ghouls immediately before him with unbelievable speed and spitting at the abomination and advancing undead he turned and ran to the edge of the cliff. He reached the edge without slowing and left the ground behind soaring straight down toward the raging river below.

That was the last he knew as the darkness overcame his weary mind. He would awake again eight days later in a Blood Elf camp. A hawkstrider had witnessed Shala's plunge and several miles downriver pulled him out of the water. They were discovered by a patrol the next day, Shala owing his life to an extrordinary specimen of the usually simpleminded birds.

(OOC: Sorry for another Blood Elf ICG but I like them. Also sorry for my spelling and grammar, it is very late here.)

Very nice...Anyone else or can we maybe get this started soon?

Would be a shame to waste it given the plot extrapolation, historical insight and future plot lines I can kick up ;) :P

Bump

Since there are so many blood elf applicants, I'll take on another race for the sake of diversity. Which ever one you choose is fine so long as I get some information on them to write suitable posts.

Hm, well the Nerubians are spider-like humanoids. http://www.wowwiki.com/Nerubian

Scourge are an army of reanimated corpses, ghosts, extradimensional entities....A very mixed bag. I can give you hints on the sci-fi elements I'm grafting in ;)

http://www.wowwiki.com/Scourge

Well, whatever you think will be best for the story then I'll take it on.

Well, we do need some Nerubians...

I think I can handle that.

Will these be the Nerubians under the Scourge's control or the few free warriors left?

The remaining free Nerubians, attacking from beneath Northrend itself, assaulting the Scourge's emplacements from their former subterranean empire.

Ah, death from below-got it.

When do we start?

Soon, I reckon. Maybe get more Nerubians + your sample

Might as well try out here.

Reading back on it, it seems kind of slow, and lame, but its the best I can do on short notice, and without too much info on the Nerubs, garantee once we start RPing I'll get into the motion of things.

IC

The gentle drip.. drip... drip of the clear clean water dropping from the ceiling into the placid puddle of pristine water was hypnotising. A gentle blue glow bathed the surrounding walls with a slightly shifting, ungulating patterns and flows. Serene, calm, and forgiving. It was easy to lose oneself, in thought, memory, or even wonderment. Only the gentle far off sound of multiple appendages scuttling down the long cave networks snapped the Nerubian from his thoughts.

"Burahb! The traitors approach! Alert the Brood leader! I will lure them in, make sure this goes to plan! I will turn on this day!" The voice was deep, and resounding, easily making hundreds of echoes in the cramped passageway.

"Of course, Ankhola! We will await your return with eagerness! To good luck to you, brother!" With the same resounding voice, the Nerubian that had been with Ankhola turned, his six legs connected to the ground scuttling in a circle, before making off with great speed down the walls of the passageway.

This left Ankhola to his own. The walls were close set beyond the chamber he was sat. Perhaps only two widths of a Nerubian warrior. Perhaps three or four of a traitor, due to their dwindled size and decay. Drawing from his own reserves, he grapped a portion of his web that protruded from its gland, and with great speed and heft, propelled the expanding sticky, thick web around the entrance.

He waited. Crouched, his six long limbs arched long, the thick body of his abdomen pressed against the ground. His natural exoskeleton armor was a dark maroon, not the perfect protection in the cave. But his artificial armor that he put together himself was as black as the night above. He carried no weapons, as with most nerubian warriors, prefering his own armored three fingered hands, or the young that lay dorment underneat his exoskeleton. However, the point of today was to not die in battle for the past Anjol-Nerub. Today was special.

He blinked. In a flash, they were already piling into the web he had laid. Incessent screams, growls, and roars filled the cavern. They were fast, too fast. How did they make it to him without being heard this time?

In short order, the web quickly expanded, strained, and snapped. It was like lashing steel wire, quickly severing many of the first wave Fiends in twain, and maiming many others. This did not phase them, they still pressed on. For they knew if they were victorious here, their loss here would be pale in comparison to the warriors they would turn if the Loyal Nerub lair was turned.

Ankhola could not let this happen. Reaching behind him, he yanked on a slender portion of web hanging from the ceiling. In a thunderous crash, tons of stones fell from high above, splatting many of the traitors in one split second. Ankhola also suceeded in blocking the passageway, but he knew this would not last for long.

Quickly he scuttled out of the cavern, into the placid blue caves behind him. He made his way with such great speed, he never knew he could scuttle this fast. As he ran, he set up web after web after web behind him. Hoping with each web, ten more of the limitless horde behind him would be destroyed, utterly.

Except he did not expect would was about to come next. He was stopped. Dead in his tracks, he was stopped. He did not even see it, but he was stuck. In a swift moment, his pride, courage, honor, all of it, turned into fear.

It was a web, a very thin web, but it was still there. How could he have missed it. But, it was not one of his brethren's webs, no. It stank of death, and misery. He struggled with all his might. It seemed like hours that he thrashed, and pulled, only suceeding in getting more caught up in the traitor web. He refused to call for help, he knew he could not either. It would only cause the trap set up by his brothers to be dispatched.

Only the frigid, cold breath of death made him freeze, almost literally. The voice, it spoke, in calm monotone, in almost a loving tone.

"You... have caused us great pain... you.. have been there in every incursion... you.. have been at the forefront... seeing to it... that as much damage that could be brought to bare... was...." And then Ankhola's emotional heart sank. "You will have a special place... in your new brotherhood..."

He tried to scream, but it was already too late. His breath had already been stolen from him.

Oh very very nice. Though it's Azjol-Nerub. :D

You're hired!

Bump! Shall we get started soon?

sounds good.

I'm thinking how best to do this...Would a thread for each strand of history be best?

Difficult to say. Depending on how this plays out, different threads could overlap causing some people to jump back and forth between threads. On the other hand, just one big thread could become cluttered and leave people sifting through tons of writing looking for one post that pertains to them.

Ultimatly your story, your choice I say.