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| - The Coming Storm is something in Earth's near future that the Menders of Ouroboros are trying to prevent. The coming storm's nature is almost completely unknown as the Menders have not revealed much about it.
- ((Note: This story was an entry in the Zephyr Crew's story contest for...some month or another, I want to say November? At any rate. The following story contains happenings of a slightly PG-13 nature :P )) by Pook "Mmm...I don't like this..." No Grimtotem grunted, tugging at his beard fretfully. "I know, I know..." Pook said soothingly as they ran through the overgrown forests of Feralas, trying her best to mask her own worry. "I'm not sure what happened..." The Gryphon and the Wyvern both that they'd been riding out of the Moonglade had touched down in the wilds, refusing to go any farther instead of following their trained flight paths. There had been a wild, fearful look in their eyes, and there were indeed dark storm clouds gathered on the horizon, thick and rolling, punctuated by flashes of lightning. No had slid off the Wyvern's back, holding a cautious hand out at Pook, motioning her to stay put until he had assessed the situation, but the Gryphon had twisted out from under her, dumping her unceremoniously on the ground. The Wyvern, not about to be outdone in crazed behavior, had uttered a strange cry and taken flight as well, the both of them quickly disappearing back the way they'd come. No had uttered a heartfelt and vitriolic string of words in his odd Taurahe dialect, and Pook had grinned as she picked up about half of it. Half was enough to make her blush as it was. They made an odd couple, at first glance. No was not especially large for a Tauren, his build generally one made more for speed and agility than brute force, but he was covered in scratches and scars, marring the dark fur that was characteristic to the Grimtotem tribe who were widely regarded as driven, ruthless and violent when compared to their generally more peaceful brethren on the Bluffs. But Pook was also not that tall for a Night Elf, her coloring running lighter and her body slighter than most. While she was generally not scarred, the tip of one long ear was slightly misshapen, as if it had been gnawed on. She slipped her small hand into his massive one as they ran, the silver chain hung with stars around her neck bouncing musically against her chest. No's eyes darted around, surveying their surroundings quickly and uneasily as they pushed through brush and moved around trees, flinching at every shadow, his free hand going to one of the two matching swords hanging at his hips every time a small animal dashed across their path. Pook was more concerned with watching him as they ran, frowning with concern at his discomfort, gauging the severity of their situation by his reaction to it. "There's a Grimtotem encampment near here," he rumbled deeply. "If we can at all avoid it, I don't want to go anywhere NEAR it." "Do you think word of you would have spread even all the way out here?" Pook asked, a hint of worry creeping into her voice. While No was a Grimtotem he'd been outcast from his tribe, and the Matriarch herself, Magatha Grimtotem, had ordered him executed for his perceived failures to fulfil his duties. “It’s hard to say...” No said, a deep frown creasing his features. “I just don’t want to risk it.” Frowning, worrying, running...it more or less defined their life these days. Not only were they pursued by the Grimtotem, but a demon, a Pit Lord had taken up residence in the soul of Pook’s oldest and dearest friend Erunamo...at times, much more than a friend. She had taken perilous steps towards taking up her destiny to save him, becoming what enigmatic figures and supposed prophecies had referred to as the Lightblade, dealing with dangerous artifacts from a past and a fate she thought she’d managed to avoid entirely. And the worst part of it was that it seemed as though this was only beginning. As if the true danger was hovering on the horizon, just waiting to strike... And with that thought the skies opened up, rain falling in thick sheets on the running Elf and Tauren, making their path even more obscured and dangerously slick with mud and debris. “We have to get out of this...” No scowled, his hooves finding no purchase on a muddy hill. Pook’s eyes scanned the horizon, as far as she could see through the falling rain at any rate, and finally picked out a cave on the side of a nearby incline. They scrambled for the cave, lightning striking a nearby tree that cracked open in an explosion of fire and sap. No whisked Pook farther away with one strong arm and they clambered up the rocks unsteadily. He let out a sharp hiss as his foot went out from under him, gouging his leg on a sharp stone, and Pook took his arm, helping to steady and pull him up. After a difficult climb they finally collapsed into the small cavern, gasping and panting. No looked around cursorily, seeking out and quickly dismissing any possibility of threat, and Pook’s nose twitched as she scented that whatever animal had used this place as shelter had long since moved on. No hissed again as he touched his leg gingerly, and Pook caught his hand with a smile. “Stop...stop. That’s what I’m here for, remember?” She said, pushing dripping wet hair out of his eyes gently with her other hand. She twisted her wrists and her hands glowed green, the soft light illuminating the cavern briefly, and his dark-furred skin knit itself together again. He caught her face in one hand, drawing her eyes up to his and running one thumb along her cheek with an affectionate smile. “Thank you. Truly.” He rumbled. Pook sighed and smiled back at him, leaning forward to brush her lips against his, and then helped him out of his waterlogged armor, laying out her own cloak and shoes beside them in the somewhat vain hope that they would somehow dry. He set aside their packs, going through them briefly to make sure nothing had been ruined in their flight and the subsequent storm, and then she settled against his chest as he sat in a somewhat labored fashion, avoiding putting his weight on his bad leg, looking out the cave mouth to the howling storm outside. There was something...not right...about this storm. It was too sudden, too violent. It was almost...angry. Lightning flashed almost continuously, blindingly, and the younger trees were bent almost double with the force of the wind. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on No’s heartbeat under her ear instead of the fearsome tumult outside... Pook blinked, startled, and then shook her head slightly...she was imagining things. No peered down at her curiously, feeling her tremble in his arms. “Cold?” He asked, stroking a surprisingly gentile hand over her wet hair. Pook shook her head again more firmly. She didn’t get cold, really...one of the rather odd quirks about her. One of a few. “Just thinking about things, about the way they’re going...about Mazrethok and Magatha and C’thun...” She sighed and looked up at him with a rueful smile. “But that’s supposed to be your job, fretting...” “Mmm.” He grunted in his usual monosyllabic fashion, returning her smile and gathering her into his warm embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I suppose.” The both of them sat in silence for a while, looking out at the mayhem being caused by the wind and the rain from their relatively safe vantage point, and after a time Pook pulled back, looking at No with a small, curious frown. “You’re doing it again...” She said, brushing the backs of her fingers down the side of his face, and he blinked from his reverie. “Doing what?” He asked, looking at her sidelong with what someone who didn’t know him well wouldn’t have been able to identify as a hint of guilt around the set of his eyes. “Thinking about something...” she said, tilting her head as she regarded him. “Mmm...like you said, just dwelling. Moping.” He said with a half-hearted grin. There was another sudden strike of lightning outside, directly outside the cave, and Pook and No both jumped, startled. And faintly, very faintly, Pook could swear she heard laughter in the wind...hard and cruel...and familiar... No frowned at her with concern and she realized she was trembling again, a look of fear on her features. “Shh...it’s all right...everything will be all right...” he rumbled soothingly, holding her close. I don’t want you... Pook said to the voice inside her mind, holding No tightly. I want this...I want him... She took No’s face in her hands to emphasize this point, to herself and to the voice she was sure she knew, and kissed him firmly. No blinked in surprise briefly and then let his eyes drift closed, returning her kiss fervently, his arms moving around her back to hold her to his bare chest with a tenderness surprising for his size. As the wind and the rain howled outside the cave, impotent in its fury at being unable to reach them, the Elf and the Tauren found their own peace and their own happiness in one another’s arms for a time, moving together in the dark, ignoring the voice of the storm.
- Gold Reward File:GoldIcon.png Reputation Disposition Type Creatures Enemies Quest ID Ahjazda thinks the world is coming to an end soon and she asks the Hero to help her collect supplies. She gives the task of collecting three items: the Amulet of Disintegration, the Ring of Desiccation and the Calming Pants.
- When The Spawn retreated at the end of The Havonian - Spawn War, it was not out of fear, it was to get reinforcements. Before The Harbingers exited Havona to go into hiding, they built Havens. To protect all other sentient life from The Coming Storm, or The Spawn's Return. The Storm also goes by many other names, such as Armageddon, or Doomsday. When The Spawn return, they will supposedly have enough numbers to destroy all of Havona. The Spawn are Galaxy Eaters, a hellish parasite that can spread over an area the size of the U.S. in less than 24 hours, over an area the size of Earth in less than a week, and an area the size of our Solar System in less than a Year. Over the course of less than 10 Years one single Spawn infestation can destroy our entire Milky Way Galaxy.
- The cold winds swept the barren crags on which Carpet City sat as a crown, its jewel held aloft on her steed examining the lowlands below. "Matriarch, by Ishtar, we heard the distant sound of drums and thought the combined armies of Hyboria would ride down on us today like the oracle scryed." The swarthy man fell to one knee at the side of the Avatar. "Nay, no battle drums. See here, the lightening quickens the skies to the south, the sound is only the thunder of Crom as he passes over the land" The Matriarch suddenly aware, looked down at the swarthy man. "The oracle said there would be a war, yet no riders pass this way and our scouts report there have been no parties leaving the towns to the south. There are no raiding parties," the Matriarch looked uncomfortable and ill at ease. "No men worth our blades it seems." The Matriarch reeled on the reins of her stallion, and faced the legions of misfits behind her, behind shields, behind cold iron and dead eyes. "In this land," The stallion reared and let out a baleful neigh. "We are the lords and masters. Crom and Set be damned. The new gods, Ishtar and Pteor have given us our bounty. The bounty of fierce blood, swift blade and the lives of every man, woman and child that walks under the sky." "Look down, look down on this world of dirt, of stone, of bronze and iron. Look at flesh and bone and know, this is ours. On this day we stood at the ready and not one lord, not one serf came upon our borders to drive us out. Nay," She paused and stared straight through every man and woman assembled. "We are the new Avatars of the new gods, we are the viceroys, we are the lords, we carry the banner of righteousness and before us, like a tide of rushing waters, we shall drown all of Hyboria and remake her in MY image!" The air exploded in a cacophony of clanging iron and fierce throaty cries of men and women, faces contorted, weather beaten and tested. How noble they looked on their precipice of stone. The jewel emanated life and made even the hewed dulled earth shine. The Conq, touched by Pteor, stepped forward and raised his sword. "If there be no man to stand against us, then we will look for the women." The Matriarch turned toward the lowlands again and stared well off into the distance. "These are a soulless, lifeless people," she paused. "Kill them all, man woman and child, if they cannot stand against us, they cannot be for us. To the quick, everyone of them." She screamed, driving the horde behind her into a murderous rage. Off in distant lands a cold wind began to bellow before the approaching storm. The Coming Storm :: Reverb I by Belight The Coming Storm :: Reverb II by Luthyr Luthyr lowers his head in shame at his inability to bring the light of the Avatar to the masses of lost souls in Hyboria. Despite his best efforts, the people of Hyboria had chosen the path of death and anguish. He could no longer hold back the horrible mob bent to the will of the divine Matriarch. If Ishtar could not have the souls of men in life, then Matriarch would see to their delivery to her in eternity. Luthyr took his place in the teeming mass, the time for ministry was at an end. The Coming Storm :: Reverb III by Paks Paks, standing in the shadows behind her Master, watches with silent intensity as the Matriarch inflames the blood lust of the Herd. Her eyes are dark with unspent passion, her mind lost in the glories of Ishtar. She reaches up and lightly touches the cape of her Master. She flinches as he turns toward her, his face hard with rage. "You know you job, slave. Go!" He gestures sharply sending her from the Herd. She casts her eyes down, yielding and mounts her fleet buckskin and sharply spurs him toward Khemi. The Coming Storm :: Reverb IV by Tehroth Tehroth a warrior of virtue honor and might...walking among the ranks of Matriarch's soldiers lifts his sword high in the air and hears the defying roar from the follower of Pteor yearning to smite all those not willing to serve him or our cause in some way. Clad in armor passed down from generation to the next, Tehroth was the ultimate bred of warrior. Flexing his muscles for a glorious fight Tehroth was first in the line of valiant warriors, ready to cleave flesh and die for the cause. For dying will mean he would not be honorable enough to fight his battle. Nay, low be hold no challengers rose to test Tehroth's will. No passage for Tehroth to meet his ancestors in the Battle grounds in the sky, but he would not allow his clan to fade out of existence. Dying is not an option yet. Furious Tehroth made his way to Khessheta to spill some heathen blood, and quench his prowess for battle lust which seems to never dull even after each blade he wore shattered in ruins. Continuously battling,preparing himself for his ultimate test.
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