It's totally awesome and all, the only problem I'm having trouble wrapping my head around is that when I enter the game with Skyta I'm on the version for Wrath of the Lich King, but then I enter with Aroliana and I'm on the version of The Burning Crusade (which makes sense since she's a BE). And then, of course, when I enter with Everstyeria, I get Mists of Pandaria.
???
Anyhoo, Skyta's level 31!! Having tons of fun beating up orcs and goblins :p I'm ready to move on to a new plot other than the Night Elves battling the orcs for the purity of their land. At least the Humans have finally made an appearance :) New stuff! Yay!
As you can see, I'm completely neglecting Katryel, but oh well. I don't want to re-level a Human Warlock (Darkdance was my highest leveled character thus far (a Human Warlock) - made it to level 36 before Blizzard closed my account for no reason >_<). So don't be surprised if I suddenly delete Katryel - I won't feel bad.
Ahaha, I feel so heartless.
Anyway, a while ago I had a great idea of a WoW fanfic, but it hasn't really taken form yet thanks to my lack of WoW knowledge/experience. Plus, it deals with concepts and names that I don't even know are plausible or not.
Here's what I have so far (not much I know), tell me what you think (I basically create a bit of my own history for each of the races - that's what I mean when I say I don't know if it's plausible):
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Chapter One
They named her Emberdance. No one really knew why - maybe it was because of her fiery red hair, or perhaps her obsession with flames, or could it have been her strong passion? Everyone was unsure as to the origin of her name, yet at the same time, somehow, it landed her a reputation she had not earned that led to a difficult childhood - but in the end that was what led to her uprising.
As a young Blood Elf child, Ember, as she was nicknamed, showed great skill with the bow and arrow. With the events of the Cataclysm and the rise of her impoverished people, she often ventured into the Eversong Woods at night, against the laws set by Lor’themar Theron, current ruler of the Quel’Thalas lands, to hunt for food she then gave to her starving kin.
Eventually she snuck into the army protecting the Ghostlands, changing her name to Feseron, keeping the Alliance forces at bay, away from their precious Silvermoon City. She was valiant, and many looked up to her as she lead the way to victory in many battles. This continued for a while, until it was discovered she was female, whereupon, to the great dismay of all of Quel’Thalas, she was sentenced to death...
Kaiamai looked up from the book, brushing a strand of her own red hair from her eyes. She looked up at her mother, cooking a pot of steaming rice nearby. “Is that true mama?” she asked.
Her mother looked down at her and smiled, her brown eyes shining with kind amusement, the way one looked a child asking a silly question. “Well I wouldn’t give it to you if it wasn’t.”
Kaiamai smiled. “Someday, I want to visit her grave.”
Her mother knocked the spoon on the rim of the pot to rid it of sticking rice. “Maybe someday.”
Kaiamai was not like the others of the Wandering Isle. She had no fur, she was not big and round, she did not have natural resistance to the native spirit-mushrooms. Her fingers were long and pale, her legs and waist slender, her skin pale and smooth and hairless, even her eyes were a bright violet compared to the round, brown eyes of the rest of them. No, she knew she was different as soon as she first looked in the mirror as a mere three year old child. At first the others had tried to hide it from her, but it was too, painstakingly obvious.
She was obviously not a Pandaren.
Finally, her adoptive mother, Chiyo, told her who she really was.
“You, dearest Kaiamai, are a Blood Elf.”
From then on, Kaiamai no longer had to train like those of the Pandaren children. Now she was taught how to use skills particular to her race, skills that other Pandaren could not do.
The one thing, however, that Kaiamai shared with the other Pandaren’s was her love of literature and writing, though she never shared this with many. Usually she burned her writings in the weekly Scorch Festival - the day when the Pandaren would burn the scrolls graffitied by the drunken monkeys near Morning Breeze Lake. This way, only she, Chiyo, and Master Shang Xi ever knew of the writings.
Little did Kaiamai know that a deep, terrible secret was being kept from her. The Blood Elves, since the contamination of their precious Sunwell, the source of their magic and lives, were falling into a chaotic spirit, branded by the name The Wretched. Unlike the rest of her kin, Kaiamai did not show the signs of a chaotic spirit by the fact that her eyes did not glow an eerie green - they were eyes like a humans, she had whites, irises, pupils, and they were a stunning violet to boot.
The greatest wish of Master Sheng Xi was that Kaiamai would not fall for the same mistakes her brethren did, and still were doing.
Chapter Two
Feseron Theron groaned for the millionth time as a fresh stack of parchments was thumped down on the golden hued desk he sat at. He leaned back, tucking bright, blonde hair behind his elongated ear rimmed with silver earrings, glaring at the top page titled Trouble at the West Sanctom.
“From your father, sir,” said the attendant, a youngling Blood Elf barely a hundred years.
“Yes, thank you,” replied Feseron, though he really wanted to snap. Once the boy had left he did. Snatching the top paper and scanning it over, he exclaimed, “Damned Dwarves!” Some Dwarf ambassador was acting as a spy and needed to be stopped. Maybe he could do it...?
He shook the thought away. No, his father would insist he send a military trainee to take care of it from Falconwing Square, someone already on that side of the Dead Scar. Everyone avoided that trench filled with rotting undead.
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And that's all I got...
Yea? Nay?
Likely nay.
§Emma
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