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Khadgar | World of Warcrafft

[4896apexiscrystals]

Genn/Khadgar - Miri

[4896apexiscrystals]

[ooc| takes place after this. ]

Originally, Khadgar had only wanted to stay a few hours, but here he was two weeks later still searching – well not, searching-searching he had a very good idea where it was – for the place where the Forsaken were manufacturing the Plague and well, destroy it. And his other unofficial duty of watching Genn Greymane run around like a chicken with his head cut off. Or maybe just a very small dog that liked to growl and yap when things were not going his way, either way, it had the Archmage worried over him.

They had no way of truly telling what was on that arrow and if it was truly out of the white Worgen's system. That concerned him, especially when Greymane refused – abhorred to stay still when his men were fighting against the Forsaken. The nursemaid, the poor lady, and himself had conversed over the way that Genn utterly lacked the ability to sit in one place at all. He didn't take to resting well, Khadgar noted one day, though much the same could be said about himself as he was horrible at listening to other people's ideas and taking them as anything less than a vague insult.

Genn Greyman was a king and Khadgar knew that most kings did not like sitting around and waiting for things to happen, that everything was above themselves and they bore that weight graciously. At least the kings Khadgar had come to respect over the years did. Genn lacked, much like Varian had, the ability to slow down and allow someone to handle that burden with them and Khadgar was obviously fascinated by the headstrong male.

From his time spent in Greywatch, the Archmage had come to see the depth of the scar that Varian's death had left on the Worgen and perhaps, he identified with it and noted to himself that they may have that in common. Pining for something that never could happen or maybe, Genn had gotten lucky. Khadgar was never truly sure of where that emotions truly laid.

He had spent one night simply watching Greymane and found himself missing Medivh once more. Even more, he was reminded of the trick the Legion had played, had used his own adoration for the Last Guardian against him. He had hoped, always hoped. It stung while he thought of it and when he had disposed of another batch of the Plague the next day, he thought of the green eyes that simply implored him to be loyal and want to take care of him. He had drank too much whine that night to get rid of the rest of those thoughts, as they had no reason to be in his head with the current threat at their finger tips.

All that he had come to realize, after all of two weeks, is that he needed to make Genn rest and allow others to handle the rest of things. He came up with a ploy and well, if it came down to it... he'd simply cheat and use his magic to keep him still and resting.

Khadgar had come up with other ideas, though his sleeping drought had been sniffed out and that had been a ruckus that he had to quickly diffuse before there was a horde of angry Worgen's knocking at the Forsaken's battleships in arms. He had also tried knocking him out, but that had started a scuffle that Khadgar was still nursing a bruised rib from – it wasn't broken, the nurse was told to focus on Genn as it would heal in due time.

He was prepared this time, truly prepared, and was quick about cornering Genn against a wall to show exactly how serious he was. Genn wouldn't listen to him due to the fact that he was not seen as the alpha – oh no, he learned early that Varian was that, but having more information now than he did then – and the only way to remedy that would be to challenge him in some way.

It's not like he was a small mage by any means, he was broad shouldered and tall, but was not a warrior in any sense of the word, unless you counted Mage.

“You need to rest,” he hissed out, keeping his hands clamped onto Genn's wrists and staring at him with his sharp blue eyes, careful to watch for any sort of reaction that would need him to flee by foot – he had left Atiesh in his own small room, which he regretted now that he thought about it, oh well no time for that.

Medivh/Khadgar - Fujin

[4896apexiscrystals]

The last time Khadgar had set foot in Karazhan alone, he had been nearly tricked into servitude to the Legion. At least with the Champion who aided him in getting the book on the pillars in the first place, there had been no underhanded tactics and it was a fight of brute force. Subterfuge was something Khadgar didn't think he could handle much more of.

He had moved quickly, during a lull in the Legion's intended fights against the Tower's defenses and well, he found himself once more in the Library that he had taken care of. He was looking for something on the mysterious artifact of the Naaru that the Champion had settled in their class hall for the moment. Velen had fallen into grief and perhaps this great library held another key to what they may need to move forward.

Quiet never unsettled him so much as it did in this instance Khadgar realized as he thumbed through the papers of a book with his mouth drawn tight and Atiesh settled in the crook of his arm. The Legion... He was wary, yes, though he was ready if the Legion decided to try and sway him again with that.... power, if it could truly be called that.

Slowly, the Archmage shifted toward another bookcase, resting Atiesh against it and thumbed over the spines of somewhat singed books. He remembered what had done that, he remembered the argument that had come afterward and how adamant both he and Garona had been that it was actually there.

Sargeras.

He was here again because of that wretched demon and this time, with these champions at the side of the light... well, they would succeed and drive the Legion back and hopefully destroy Sargeras once and for all. He hoped so at least, he did not think he had a third round with the fallen titan in him after all.

His free hand brushed through some of the white hair that began to fall into his face and stopped to pinch the bridge of his nose as he wracked his brain for the book he needed. He knew it was there, it had to be.

It was his folly that his guard was dropped and that he fluttered from shelf to shelf looking, he would be easily snuck up on.

khadgar and dadgar - Tracy? idk how you want this doooone

[touchallthebooks]

A great deal of his time lately was spent in libraries, taking notes on anything that seemed of value. Hi notebook is left open on a desk for the moment, as he left and picked out probably more books than he'd be able to get through in a day, holding some in his arms and enchanting at least half a dozen more to float along behind him. And he didn't seem at all concerned with anyone else in the library.

His clothes were slightly rumpled and his hair is messy, there are ink stains on his sleeves and a little on his cheek and forehead from brushing his hair out of his face as he wrote.

"I'll be out of your way in a minute." He commented as he passed, not taking any real notice of the man aside from the fact that he was there. And once he reached where he'd been sitting, he just enchanted the books he was done with to return to their spot on the shelves. Not just his general appearance told of how long he'd been there either, there was the number of books, finished and just being collecting, and how low the candle he was using had burned down, nearly finished and in need of being replaced.

"You didn't need any of these, did you?" Not many people wandered into this section except for him.

Khadgar | Warcraft (2016)

[touchallthethings]

Dadgar + Khadgar - Miri

[trustwhiskers]

Exiting the portal he'd opened to send him back to Azeroth from Draenor, Khadgar made a beeline across the corrupted land below to the mountains in the distance that currently hid the tower that was to be his destination. Given he knew exactly where he was headed and how long it would take for him to reach it, he allowed his thoughts and attention to largely turn inward, ignoring the scenery passing by below.

He had limited time to act before Gul'dan no doubt arrived on Azeroth, and he needed to look into certain books to help him formulate a plan to deal with the warlock before he was capable of summoning the Legion here. There had to be something within Karazhan's library that would give him an upper hand on the confrontation that would come about the moment he located Gul'dan and attempted to stop him once more. Silent guilt over his small part in setting the warlock loose, underestimating his threat to both worlds now involved ate at him, but he pushed it away once more, as he did his other mistakes when there was work needing to be done. He couldn't let sorrow, pain, nor guilt distract him for even a moment right now. It was entirely possible that Gul'dan was already here in Azeroth. He had to make every second count.

With that last thought he turned his attention back to surroundings he was flying through, noting the desolate woods with their eight-legged inhabitants. However, the sight of the tower itself pulled him up short and caused him to waste a precious moment in confusion and silent surprise. The building before him did not look as it had when he had last departed it. A brief caw of displeasure escaped at this unforeseen event and he dove down toward the building, allowing himself to check it into a circling flight around the tall spire that Karazhan now seem to bear. This building save for the upper area of the tower seemed to also be in far better repair than that of the one he'd last visited adding to the mounting unease this unexpected change was causing him.

He landed at the door below and noted that at least the wards were intact over the entrance. It was a simple matter to disable them long enough for him to gain entry before allowing them to resume their task of guarding the doors. He made his silent way toward the library, in which he gained yet another surprise. In his memory of Karazhan's library, he recalled no such massive stairway lying within it. Especially one that looked to span the height of the tower itself from what he could see.

Just what in blazes was going on here?

Anduin Wrynn | World of Warcraft

[nowtheking]

Anduin + Greymane - Miri

[nowtheking]

Anduin could not deny that Stormwind Keep felt almost empty without Jaina and Genn Greymane within its halls. He felt lonelier than he thought he would've been if it had been any other time; if his Father had still been alive after the Legion's defeat. It was not how it happened and Anduin was not sure if he was glad for it or not.

He had made attempts at bringing the angry mage back to the halls though was rebuffed every time as she asked when the Horde would pay for their crimes against Theramore. He would not condone it and she knew it, it left the King of Stormwind feeling slightly lost for what to do...

Greymane, however, his father's friend, he could at least attempt to coax back to Stormwind after the elder man had gotten his people back on their feet. That thought process is what brought him to Keel Harbor, where the Worgen were working hard to finish their task of beginning to build stability.

Blond, somewhat wet hair whipped in the wind and he took in the sight before him. He never thought he'd have seen a land where the skies looked always gray, or always raining, really. He was fascinated and well, he began to move forwards without the guard who had accompanied him - it had been honestly demanded of him, and he could not find it in him to disagree that it was perhaps for the best.

Anduin had stopped to play with some children when he heard the news that Genn Greymane had been injured. It concerned him and well, he was quick to separate himself from the children with apologies and promises that he would come back to play more, but he had to attend to the King of Gilneas.

The walk was fast, he was taking near double steps and ignored other Worgen who seemed to whisper and look confused that the King of Stormwind was within their borders -- no one had heard he was coming (with good reason).

He caught that Khadgar was also out of Gilneas for a short spell when it happened, which only worried the King more, undoubtedly he could imagine the Archmage rushing back to make sure the King of Gilneas was fine like he had done in Stormheim.

Anduin bullied his way past the protesting members of the household. Though he was fast to shut them up with reminding them that he was a priest before he was a king.

Finally, he knocked against the door which Greymane had laid behind.

"Greymane, it is Anduin, may I come in?"

Anduin + Varian - Miri

[nowtheking]

He is pacing through the study, waiting for the Archmage to come and tell him that this was truly who it appeared to be. If his father had survived the bass Ault at the Broken Shore, as if he was breathing the same air as him once again. Of course, Khadgar had forced him to stay back as Greymane manhandled the large form of his father through a portal.

He had protested when the archmage had told him to get out from under their feet, tried to remind them that he of all people was a priest and able to tend to any and every wound that they could find on hs body. It wasn't the physical wounds they were worried about, Khadgar had snapped at him looking at Genn to get the boy -- no, he was a king -- out of the room. Unlike the harsh tones previously unheard from the mage, Greymane had been gentler. He had lead Anduin away and promised to come and get him the moment Varian was fit. The older king patted him on the shoulder and left him outside of his chambers.

That was over three says ago and frankly, Khadgar was wearing on his usually unlimited patience with his dodgy answers on his father's condition. Right now, he had his feet moving to drive the annoyance off and a large, worn mug that was still too large for him resting on the corner of the desk filled with some cider that he would have loved to share. He wouldn't have even thought he would get the chance to do such a thing again... but his father was nearby and well....

A devious grin exploded over his face. Undoubtedly Greymane would be bullying Khadgar out of the room by this point in the night and the Knights stationed outside... well, Anduin was still the king. He gathered the mug in his arms, after refilling it and began to make his way towards the room where his father was imprisoned for everyone's safety.

There had been a close call with being caught by the Archmage, who the Gilnean king was holding up bodily from how exhausted the would-be guardian seemed. A brief flash of guilt settled over him, but the snippet of the Archmage's hushed conversation with Genn he heard had him all the more determined to sneak in there and see his father for himself.

"I cannot help it, Greymane, I cannot help but worry that Sargeras is in him - like he had been in Medivh. Varian would be the perfect vessel for him, the right political positioning for war - King Anduin cannot go in there until we are sure..."

Perhaps, he had been underestimating the nose of the Worgen, who met his eyes while Khadgar briefly stumbled and nodded to him discreetly. Well that was definitely permission enough, though he was sure that Genn had more sympathy for him due to his own life. He had been supposed to personally hand him the letter that his father had written - had been too guilty to look him in the eye when he had asked him to go to Stormheim.

Now, the other had met his gaze and held it before he needed to be focused back on the mage nearly tripping over his own two feet.

The king of Stormwind drew his mind back to the words of said mage, he knew the story of how Khadgar came to be who he was now and distantly, he knew that Khadgar was right and attempting to protect him.... but the urge to see his father was much stronger. He pushed himself into moving once more.

The Knights saw him, opened their mouths to protest before he pressed a finger to his lips and cheekily winked. He shooed then off and rearranged himself to slip into the room without drawing anymore attention to himself.

The first thing he noted when he entered was that it was near deathly silent, the sounds of wind scraping at the windows and the calm breath of the man laying prone upon the ornate bed. Of course, Anduin knew not to startle the man by appearing right next to his bedside when waking him up - a good way to be hit, truly - and instead lingered by the door to attempt.

"Father? It is your son... I've brought you some apple cider and my company."

Thrall | World of Warcraft

[greenjesus]

Llane Wrynn | Warcraft (2016)

[loyallion]

Lothar/Llane - Cerie

[thelionofstormwind]

Llane might be his king but that doesn't change the relationship between them, not truly. Some bonds transcend the laws of court and Lothar is certain that theirs is one of them. What they have, what they had before Medivh locked himself away in that damned tower is something that no crown is ever going to change. Not now and not ever.

It's going to be a hell of a campaign. They've had long campaigns before, sure, and Taria's always turned a blind eye to their relationship. What they have doesn't touch anything between Llane and Taria; Lothar wouldn't dare presume to come between them and honestly, his sister is woman enough to throw him out if she needs to. She also knows when Llane needs him instead of her and now apparently is one of those times.

"Taria's gone to the dungeons," he says, without preamble. "And retired with her ladies. She said that you needed me and my counsel."

Medivh/Llane - Lily

[thelast_guardian]

Six years it had been since the two had last seen each other. Time could have passed longer had the fel not played an integral part in the reason Llane summoned him in the first place. In the end, the Guardian would be lying if he said it wasn't good to see the King.

No, it was beyond good to see his friend.

After his arrival, and once the Guardian had been filled in on the scope of the sudden threat of 'monsters' in the kingdom, Medivh found himself wandering as he waited for the group to assemble for their quest into Elwynn Forest. As he did, it struck him how loud some of the memories were, dating all the way back to when Medivh met both Llane and Lothar. Each room had recollections.

It was a terrible reminder of how lonely he now felt and how much each of them had been through since then.

Medivh was in the garden lingering when he felt the presence of someone else, watching him from behind. He knew who it was and was quite frankly surprised Llane hadn't tracked him down sooner. It had been six years, after all.

"My King," Medivh greeted. "Was there something left out earlier in our discussion regarding what we are faced with?"

[peacefulprince]

While Anduin had certainly seen the dungeons of Stormwind before, he's never actually been locked in them... until now.

He still wasn't sure how this happened. He was in Dalaran and had stepped through a portal another mage had made that was supposed to take him to Stormwind. He'd gone to Stormwind all right, but it wasn't the Stormwind he knew. That much had been made apparent when he'd appeared in the keep and guards had converged on him. They hadn't believed when he stated he was the prince, and they didn't believe anything else he'd said either. When he'd asked where King Varian was, they had only looked at him in puzzled wariness.

No matter how he tried to talk his way out of it, he'd eventually been forcibly escorted to the dungeons after he continued to insist on speaking with the king.

When he'd been locked into a cell, he'd been told that the king would see him eventually. From the little laugh that had accompanied the guards, he'd gotten the feeling they thought it was some kind of joke that the king would want to come by. Either his father was going to be furious when he found out... or, as Anduin was beginning to suspect was the more likely option, something had gone horribly wrong.

He was worried, to say the least, and he was close to giving into the urge to start pacing around his cell. His hands were in a tight grip against the cell bars, forehead resting against the chill metal with his eyes closed as concerned thoughts filled his mind. Where was his father? Why did those guards not recognize him? Had his father been overthrown somehow? Was Varian alright? Why hadn't he seen anyone else that he knew when he'd been brought down here?

What was going on?

Varian / Llane - Miri

[wolfscion]

The abrupt shift was utterly unexpected, but he had thought he'd known who was responsible for the sudden white-out of his surroundings and the familiar 'feel' of a teleportation spell taking hold and pulling him from one place to another. The force of it caused him to stumble forwards a couple steps when it finally released him, which silently made sense given the distance Jaina no doubt would have been forced to work with.

It was as everything fully came into focus, the feel of people brushing by him in a hurry, the sounds of fighting, the too familiar roars of orcs, followed by human shouting; that told him he was not aboard the gunship even before he turned his gaze upon the battle being waged. He turned to look at the structure behind him, seeing the familiar skyline of Stormwind within the portal framed by the pillars, but he also noticed the tale-tell flickers that were starting to run through it. Dropping his eyes as he heard a particular voice being raised close by, he turned in disbelief to see the armored figure standing near by with a too familiar half-orc standing beside him.

He made his way toward the man. It wasn't hard to figure out what would happen if Llane remained on this side of that portal when it went down shortly and while it was possible he shouldn't interfere with events here...like hell was he going to stand aside and allow his father to die before him when the means to save him was beside them. Thus he reached out to grasp one of Llane's arms firmly and headed for the portal, ignoring the protests and even the attempts of the man to free himself. Perhaps thankfully, the other soldiers were far too busy fighting to interfere with him and it was only when he got the man right in front of the portal that he released the arm he held to plant a hand against the man's breastplate.

"You can't die here. Your people need you." With those words he shoved the man backwards into the portal, watching him vanish and turned away to face the fighting once more, intending fully to dive into the fray. He'd crossed part of the increasingly shrinking distance when a strange noise caught his attention and he and other soldiers looked back toward the portal to see it seemingly tear itself apart, fizzling away to nothing and allowing them to see all of the orcs that had gathered on the other side of it.

They were surrounded, but at least he had managed to get the king out of this death trap before it had closed its jaws around them. Stormwind would not fall again.

Despite his efforts to turn the tide, the remaining soldiers that stood with him were slowly whittled down, falling to the orcs. He had been looking for some manner to achieve a higher ground to fight from when he spotted the warlock. Leaving a trail of dead and dismembered orcs, Varian made his way toward the hunched figure that was unmistakably Gul'dan. Though his actions predictably enough seemed to only serve to amuse the warlock.

He doubted he'd survive this second attempt to kill the other, but at least if he went down, he'd go down trying to rid Azeroth of the malice he embodied. If he could remove Gul'dan from the equation, then the Alliance would stand a much better chance against this horde.

What he didn't expect however was the half-orc's attempt to aid him, distracting Gul'dan with what was no doubt a feint designed to give him the opportunity he desired. One sword cleaved the arm holding Garona up in the air, the other coming down toward the warlock's back, cutting through the horns jutting up from it. The actions earned a roar of fury from the warlock and he sought to mend his arm via drawing life from the pair of them, but that action was abruptly halted as the warlock suddenly found himself grabbed unexpectedly from behind and tossed into the air, landing was unkind and the abrupt pounce of the avian feline ended what Varian had merely begun.

Varian turned from the carnage caused by the gryphon, now tearing into other orcs and causing them to begin to back off, seeking the one who had no doubt ridden it here. He spotted the man currently engaged with one of the largest orc's and began to head toward him with full intent to aid when the man dispatched the orc with two quick evasive maneuvers.

It wasn't until the man called the gryphon away from its field day with the orcs, that he realized why the man had felt familiar to him despite being incapable of immediately placing him. 'Lothar...'

Prior to the half-breed endangering herself to aid him, Varian might have protested including her in their departing upon the gryphon, but given that she and Lothar were obviously friendly and she had been willing to sacrifice herself to see Gul'dan dead, he would for now give her the benefit of the doubt. Though he would continue to watch her within Stormwind.

It was on the flight there as he finally had a chance to rest and cool down that his body reminded him of his earlier plunge into the sea. The result of which his clothes beneath his armor had still yet to dry despite the heat of the fel fires he'd been fighting among. Perhaps once he arrived in Stormwind, he could arrange for a room at an inn, provided he wasn't taken in by the man before him to be questioned. It had been rather obvious that Lothar knew he wasn't part of the original army that had marched to the Black Morass to fight the orcish horde, and he had a feeling that once he learned of how he'd arrived, there would be even more questions directed at him.

Unfortunately, those he would be incapable of properly answering given he had no idea just why he'd been sent here. Though he suspected the 'hand' of either a bronze or infinite dragon at play here. Hopefully he hadn't erred when he'd interfered with events, but like hell would he allow Gul'dan to rampage over Azeroth after murdering his father before him.

Tonidina "Toni" Branwen | World of Warcraft (OC)

[felafflicted]



Zakkarius Felglaive - Fujin

[blindnotdeaf]

The battle was heated; the air filled with the scents of hellfire and blood. The air filled with the screams of the triumphant and those of the dying. The Legion had initially struck at the floating city of Dalaran, only to have the attack wave pushed back. The city was holding, shielded in protective magics. Most of the fighting was in the air below it, or on the broken coast of Azsuna at the Illidari Front.

The Illidari were a force to be reckoned with, and some of the doubters that resisted the demon hunters from joining forces with them - realized different once they saw how they were like an unstoppable wall to the Legion. In combat, they seemed more demon than elf - but the Demons of the Legion fell by the score when demon hunters were on the battlefield. They moved with an insane amount of quickness and ferocity - sometimes seeming like a blur as they engaged the enemy; drawing on demonic energies from the fallen and using it against the foe.

Zakkarius felt it was almost like a dance. Everything had its own rhythm and timing. The sounds of battle itself, the music. The demon hunter surged through the demonic creatures with an incredible speed belying his size and his warglaives were a whirlwind of singing steel, blood and death. He truly was having the time of his life. This was how an Illidari lived...and also died. There was no greater honor than sacrifice.

He was in full armor (well as much armor as an Illidari would typically wear), which consisted of belted kilt and trousers. Chest harness and forearm guards as well as protection for the shoulders - but the most fearsome piece was the mask that completely covered their face and eyes. It hid their features and expression to the point of making them a featureless, merciless killing machine.

Through all this, Zakkarius kept an ear out for both his bretheren and his companion which had joined him in battle. It wouldn't be the first time they faced destruction together. In fact - this kind of activity was fun for them. He knew that Toni, the small human warlock woman, wouldn't be that far.

Lady Sylvanas Windrunner | World of Warcraft

[needsthevalkyr]

Khadgar (AU) | World of Warcraft

[shatteredtrust]

Greytrust - Miri

[shatteredtrust]

The fall of Stormwind and it's King was spoken of everywhere, the resignation of the Guardian of Azeroth from his position as the head of the Council of Six too. No one could find him, though he supposed that was the point. Khadgar did not want to he found. It was an extreme reaction to the devastation that some would say was unwarranted, but the Archmage knew that it was the least he could do.

Within the losses of Stormwind and Gilneas, that were numerous, the more pronounced ones were the murder of the Archmage Kalec, Lorna Crowley, Mia Greymane, Anduin Wrynn, Tess Greymane and various other Stormwind leaders. On Tess and Anduin's wedding day, no less. He remembered how grey it was on the day they put them to rest, there were no bodies – like Varian, there had been nothing to do it with. He thought the sky around Stormwind was weeping for the priest-king that sought peace for his people and the others, for the daughters, the archmage, the mother and everything else that Sylvanas had destroyed.

Khadgar's chest hurt just thinking about it. He knew he had been an emotionless hack that day, speaking quiet words to the survivors and other leaders that drew themselves around it. Going through the motions, he thinks Modera called it, that he was so overwhelmed by grief – by misplaced guilt, that it was the only way he could manage everything.

He caused that, his mind had (and still did) continuously reminded him of it, the voice sounding suspiciously like Medivh, it was his fault.

He couldn't even refute it, not even a single protest was able to be made. Not like it could be for the death of Medivh at his and Lothar's hands or the death of Lothar at the hands of an orc. There was no excuse for it and he-- He knew there was nothing he could do to repent for it. That much had been made clear by the weight of the Worgen King knocking him to the ground and hissing his, "this is why you don't trust those abominations," into his face when the plague had dissipated enough that they could seek any – unlikely – survivors.

The white haired male had wondered if Genn was going to kill him for what he did. He hadn't and Khadgar wondered why not, even now he did. He was the one agreeing with the young Wrynn, advocating for peace and even thinking the idea to invite Sylvanas, the Warchief of the Horde, was a good show of faith. That she would come to the wedding and sway others into thinking the same as them.

Khadgar regretted it now as he pulled his knees to the chest, leaning his back up against the cold, damp cave wall that was serving to hide him away from the rest of the world. There was a half banked fire pit directly in front of him, flames flickering up to touch the wood once in a while, though it did nothing to stave off the bone-deep chill that had taken him over. There were papers strewn all around him, covered in shaky near illegible writing and smudged ink, from where freezing hands could not stay steady and well, the man could not be bothered to actually rewrite any of it.

His blue robes were ripped in places from attacks of wandering demons that came to close to the cave that he fended off without his trusty greatstaff – one he felt he also thought he didn't deserve anymore. Parts of his face were covered in dirt and he had a long, scabbed over cut against his temple and blood matted hair pressed to it in places. His once lively gaze was hollow, blue eyes catching the glint of dying embers and lighting them up, but he was focused on something.

Sylvanas, of course, he was focused on how to make her pay for what she did. Anger rose from the mourning like a tidal wave, though it too was cursed to fade into apathy before long, but for the moment... It had him look actually alive for a short while. His hands reached for the pestle and mortar that he had for making the ink he was using, as well as more of the terrocone he had gathered the last time he ventured from his hide-away in Terrokar forest, noting to himself that he would need to go and forage more of them in a short while. Perhaps kill something for it's meat and cook it if the anger lasted long enough, though he was not sure it would.

He growled to himself, stopping his milling to throw the pestle across the cave, seeing the edge of a shadow flickering along the edge, hoping to catch whatever intruder off guard and drive them off without extending much magic. He was so tired, he wasn't even sure when the last time he slept properly was and he didn't know if he truly had the strength for a proper fight.

Of course, maybe it would be better if they did manage to kill him. Though, he thought it might just be an adventurer looking for ore... He sighed softly, setting the mortar aside, curling his arms back around his knees and drawing them close to his chest, resting his forehead against them.

Khadgar thought about how long he had spent in the cave, it was almost a month, maybe more. Hiding from the world, hiding from responsibility that no one would actively put on him. Maybe the other Council members decided to put a reward out for his return, though he did not want to, not before he could extract the perfect revenge upon the bloody Forsaken that drove him out there in the first place.

"Leave," he managed, voice harsh from being unused for so long and his throat was dry. "If you have a brain, you will leave."

Day One - Afternoon to Nightfall

[oldwolf]

Genn would never forget where he stood when he saw the bats departing the zeppelin. He'd been clearing a few last minute things, Mia had given him an understanding look when he'd excused himself from her side within the keep, giving her a promise to return in time to give the bride away.

Of course, he couldn't have known that would be the last time he'd speak to her. Couldn't have known that his wife's gentle teasing about his need to check on things, to make certain nothing went wrong would be the last words he'd ever hear of hers. He couldn't have known that his last sight of his daughter would be in her wedding dress letting a maid finish working on her hair. That his last exchange with Anduin would be a teasing reassurance that he had far more to fear from his daughter's temper should he provoke it than his.

Genn had wanted to send gryphon riders to the ship to take it out of the sky, yet he was forced to tell the men that they had been invited and they were to merely observe and act only if they saw something suspicious.

Which happened before he even had left the harbor.

Bats left the zeppelin, which of course, was at first no cause for alarm. The invited guests would need a way down, but after a second flight of bats departed, he ordered a rider to go gather others to deal with them. Shortly thereafter, he took to the sky himself, since traveling on foot through the city would take far too long to get to where he needed to be. Thus he had an excellent view of when the bat riders dropped their actual passengers.

No living creatures these. No. The bats carried too sickeningly familiar barrels that as they broke open against buildings and cobbled streets released a lethal liquid and fog that killed all it touched.

They were forced to avoid the cathedral district and in doing so it soon became clear that the keep had been the main target and the neighboring districts had also suffered to lesser extents so as to prevent any chance of escape. If he had made the attempt to go by ground he would have no doubt perished in any effort to draw as close as they were, hovering off to the side of the trade district. Even aerially the bird was forced to fly too high to be of any aid.

Stymied in any possible rescue attempt, Genn turned his attention toward origin of the threat and realized that even retaliation was denied as riders were shot down upon approach of the zeppelin. The only consolation at all was the fact that far fewer bats returned than had departed.

A few riders managed to take out a couple the archers with luck and fancy evasive flying to avoid the lethal volleys sent. But it became obvious that their attacks were like a gnat bothering a larger beast. Annoying, but of no real threat.

Eventually the zeppelin departed. Leaving them to organize efforts to clear the air of the deadly fog that hung over easily half the city, tally what actual damage had been done and see about putting those precious--all too few--survivors that had managed to escape both liquid and fumes into safer places within the mage district.

Genn kept himself busy in all aspects of the recovery, not allowing himself a moment's pause to speak to anyone about anything other than recovery efforts, until Crowley appeared and pulled him away to talk privately. Once Crowley had finished speaking, he had sent him off to speak with others to gain the aid he'd need to deal with yet another disaster. Ignoring concerned voices, he departed the main hub of the recovery efforts and made his silent way toward the keep.

Dusk had fallen unnoticed and was slowly giving away to nightfall as Genn finally made his way into gate of the keep's outer courtyard. He noticed as he climbed the stairs that the guards who would have been stationed here and thus had perished here had been carried away. The only thing out of place amid the courtyard approach was the small remaining puddles of green that glowed quietly with the promise of swift death should someone touch them unprotected. He made a quiet almost absent-minded mental note that they would have to have their alchemists deal with them along side their shamans. Perhaps he could get someone to fetch Krennan's notes on his efforts to clean up Gilneas. It was a shame that the man himself could no longer aid anyone.

Once he was inside, it was as if nothing had happened if you ignored the lack of people that usually filled the keep. The silence of it was akin to a tomb, perhaps fitting in a way, given it had become one now. However, the garden within the keep had yet to be touched save to be cleared of the deadly vapors. He passed various small piles of bones and small puddles of green as he made his way to the center. It was obvious who this particular pile belonged to from the remains of the clothes and all of the exhaustion of the day abruptly crashed down, both physical and mental, and he collapsed before the remains. Head bowing in silent remorse and an apology that would never be enough to grant any consoling forgiveness.

He'd promised himself that he would protect Varian's son as if he had been his own and like Liam before, he'd failed. He should have seen this betrayal coming and prepared for it, he should have argued more heatedly against inviting the forsaken into their lands, let alone their capital. He should have known that she would take advantage of this occasion to wipe out those she loathed no matter the honeyed words she might have given prior. He'd failed to protect his people and his king...and now so many had suffered and died because of it. The people of Stormwind were without a king now and no heir to take his place.

Liam Greymane | World of Warcraft

[sonofgilneas]

Khadgar [AU] | World of Warcraft

[trustedlibrarian]

Colton Vayne | World of Warcraft [oc]

[parvusversipellis]

Khadgar [AU] | World of Warcraft

[cursedtwiceover]