Atherium
Filthy Casual
The arctic land of Northrend. Home to the Scourge and to its master, the Lich King. An otherwise beautiful environment, so peaceful and serene before it has been shaken by the undead plague. A plague from which no zone of the large continent escaped unharmed. From his frozen throne, found in the highest room of the Icecrown Citadel, the evil mastermind commands his unholy armies to spread the blight of undeath and wage war and chaos upon any living being. Expeditions of both the Horde and the Alliance set out to fight the Lich King, directly, or through different operations started with the intention of diminishing the force of his grip upon different zones of Northrend.
Several smaller factions, most of them neutral to both Horde and the Alliance, and therefore, not aggressive to any of them, also set their own encampments and outposts throughout Northrend, seeking to help with the eradication of the tyranny that the Lich King was policing. The Cenarion Circle, known for their past deeds in Azeroth, known for tirelessly working to eradicate the fel blight that threatened to spread through different parts of either Kalimdor or Eastern Kingdoms, now sent their special, elite group of druids, under the name of the Cenarion Expedition. The groups consisted of both Night Elves and Tauren, the only two races of Alliance and Horde that were interested in the arts of druidism and passionate enough to save the environment.
The Argent Dawn, renowned order of paladins fighting to eradicate the Scourge from the Plaguelands, the first place it errupted in, have also created a special unit of elite paladins to run to the aid of both the Alliance and the Horde in their ceaseless fight in Northrend. Led by the lion hearted Tirion Fordring, the Argent Crusade has set its Vanguard right at the border between Northrend and the Crystalsong Forest. Blood Elves, High Elves, Draenei and humans, all gathered together under one banner and one single purpose: To end the Lich King's reign, and set Northrend free of his curse once and for all. A joined effort by all the forces capable enough to fight such a great evil.
I still miss my home. Light, I still dream of Karabor, And I think of it in any moment of my battles, for it is there where my heart will forever lie. It is there where I have started my journey. He finished writing, before placing the quill back in its spot and closing the journal. He made quite the habit out of writing in the journal, and within the booklet's page lain countless memories and poetic thoughts that would serve a testament after Akmaad, the Draenei paladin, would cease to exist. He sat there, in silence, in his private quarter in the Alliance inn of Dalaran, otherwise known as "A Hero's Welcome". Akmaad was the meditative type. He learned that only by meditating long enough, the Light will speak to him. And it did. So he dedicated his life to the Light, and fought in its name.
A knock on the wooden door signaled that somebody was there to speak to him. His voice, with the strange accent any Draenei bore, responded to the knock. "Yes?" And so the door was open, to reveal the form of a human. One of the lesser ranks of the Argent crusaders stationed currently at the Argent Vanguard. The man, clad in the standard Argent armor and wearing the specific tabard, stood in the doorway for a moment before entering as signaled to by the huge, gloved hand of the Draenei paladin. "Light bless you, brother." The human, named Wymore, spoke as he approached the Draenei, and handed him with no hesitance an envelope that contained most likely a letter, bearing the sigil of Tirion Fordring himself. What could it be?
"Did Lord Tirion say anything about this missive, Wymore?" Akmaad asked his fellow paladin, to which the human slightly shook his head in the sign of a "no". "Well, I better go then, be careful, Akmaad." Wymore let out a heartfelt smile to his comrade before turning around and exitting the room. The draenei looked upon the seal of the envelope once, then again, before hesitantly breaking it, and opening the letter. It was, indeed, a letter from Tirion Fordring. With worried eyes, the paladin ran through it once, mumbling what he read under his breath. "Hm... Interesting." He mumbled as he read the name of someone, a night elf female who apparently was a Cenarion warden. Your mission in the field is to accompany this lady as she travels through Northrend and studies the different types of plague existing in the land, trying to determine a way to combat it.
Placing the letter down after reading it twice with due care, the draenei took a deep breath. It seemed like he and this night elf, whom he yet did not meet, were going to have quite the adventure together. Of course, given that the night elves and draenei were both part of the Alliance, this mission was hopefully not going to be slowed down by racial divergencies. Nodding to himself, Akmaad allowed himself another couple of moments in the silence of the room before standing. Placing his journal conveniently into the backpack filled with provisions, as Akmaad was always careful to keep enough with him should times get rough, the draenei paced outside of the room, his hooves making thudding sounds as he stepped on the wooden floors and exitted the inn. The meeting place for him and his travelling companion would be at the Valliance Keep, in Borean Tundra.
Several smaller factions, most of them neutral to both Horde and the Alliance, and therefore, not aggressive to any of them, also set their own encampments and outposts throughout Northrend, seeking to help with the eradication of the tyranny that the Lich King was policing. The Cenarion Circle, known for their past deeds in Azeroth, known for tirelessly working to eradicate the fel blight that threatened to spread through different parts of either Kalimdor or Eastern Kingdoms, now sent their special, elite group of druids, under the name of the Cenarion Expedition. The groups consisted of both Night Elves and Tauren, the only two races of Alliance and Horde that were interested in the arts of druidism and passionate enough to save the environment.
The Argent Dawn, renowned order of paladins fighting to eradicate the Scourge from the Plaguelands, the first place it errupted in, have also created a special unit of elite paladins to run to the aid of both the Alliance and the Horde in their ceaseless fight in Northrend. Led by the lion hearted Tirion Fordring, the Argent Crusade has set its Vanguard right at the border between Northrend and the Crystalsong Forest. Blood Elves, High Elves, Draenei and humans, all gathered together under one banner and one single purpose: To end the Lich King's reign, and set Northrend free of his curse once and for all. A joined effort by all the forces capable enough to fight such a great evil.
I still miss my home. Light, I still dream of Karabor, And I think of it in any moment of my battles, for it is there where my heart will forever lie. It is there where I have started my journey. He finished writing, before placing the quill back in its spot and closing the journal. He made quite the habit out of writing in the journal, and within the booklet's page lain countless memories and poetic thoughts that would serve a testament after Akmaad, the Draenei paladin, would cease to exist. He sat there, in silence, in his private quarter in the Alliance inn of Dalaran, otherwise known as "A Hero's Welcome". Akmaad was the meditative type. He learned that only by meditating long enough, the Light will speak to him. And it did. So he dedicated his life to the Light, and fought in its name.
A knock on the wooden door signaled that somebody was there to speak to him. His voice, with the strange accent any Draenei bore, responded to the knock. "Yes?" And so the door was open, to reveal the form of a human. One of the lesser ranks of the Argent crusaders stationed currently at the Argent Vanguard. The man, clad in the standard Argent armor and wearing the specific tabard, stood in the doorway for a moment before entering as signaled to by the huge, gloved hand of the Draenei paladin. "Light bless you, brother." The human, named Wymore, spoke as he approached the Draenei, and handed him with no hesitance an envelope that contained most likely a letter, bearing the sigil of Tirion Fordring himself. What could it be?
"Did Lord Tirion say anything about this missive, Wymore?" Akmaad asked his fellow paladin, to which the human slightly shook his head in the sign of a "no". "Well, I better go then, be careful, Akmaad." Wymore let out a heartfelt smile to his comrade before turning around and exitting the room. The draenei looked upon the seal of the envelope once, then again, before hesitantly breaking it, and opening the letter. It was, indeed, a letter from Tirion Fordring. With worried eyes, the paladin ran through it once, mumbling what he read under his breath. "Hm... Interesting." He mumbled as he read the name of someone, a night elf female who apparently was a Cenarion warden. Your mission in the field is to accompany this lady as she travels through Northrend and studies the different types of plague existing in the land, trying to determine a way to combat it.
Placing the letter down after reading it twice with due care, the draenei took a deep breath. It seemed like he and this night elf, whom he yet did not meet, were going to have quite the adventure together. Of course, given that the night elves and draenei were both part of the Alliance, this mission was hopefully not going to be slowed down by racial divergencies. Nodding to himself, Akmaad allowed himself another couple of moments in the silence of the room before standing. Placing his journal conveniently into the backpack filled with provisions, as Akmaad was always careful to keep enough with him should times get rough, the draenei paced outside of the room, his hooves making thudding sounds as he stepped on the wooden floors and exitted the inn. The meeting place for him and his travelling companion would be at the Valliance Keep, in Borean Tundra.