Level 16 – Journey to Orgrimmar (part II.)
Alright, so I promised this ‘tomorrow’ and that was on…Monday? And it’s Saturday. Life got in the way – and besides the servers are down so much right now I can barely get in to take screenshots. And my paladin is taking up a lot of my time when I do. And DDO went free-to-play so I’ve been testing out a cleric there. And I’m doing a lot of reading preparatory to go back to university. And and and….yeah. Enjoy! 
Standing in the entrance to the city, the blood elf surveyed the scene with narrowed eyes and a pursed mouth. Before her, a bustle of activity opened up – a hill sloping down to a gentle valley, with several squat, stone and timber buildings hunched broodingly in the centre. The most prominent of them appeared to be a bank, judging by the heavily-armoured orcs looming outside it, with a huge cluster of people gathered around a post box outside, busily checking their mail and conducting transactions. Behind it reared a huge tower, rising to a height of perhaps two hundred feet over the city, with a zeppelin tethered at the top, mooring ropes swaying gently in the breeze. On the top deck of the tower several gryphons flapped their wings lazily, as people paid for their rides and hopped on board. Huge spiky plants sprouted up everywhere.
Before her was a huge timber pole, with an ugly dragon head impaled on the top of it. Treading gingerly so as not to step in anything nasty – there was red, thick dust all over the floor, the same kind as had clung to the hem of her robe outside the city, as well as worse stuff – the priestess made her way down the main thoroughfare. People hustled around her from all sides – a squat, bald, female orc, with broken teeth – several Forsaken, moving as a group and looking around distrustfully – a troll, with huge tusks and a pink mohican, begging scraps from passers-by in the gutter – and the range of smells that assaulted the girl’s senses was almost too much to bear. Smoke and heat poured from a huge bonfire that burned in the square before the bank, the smell of roasting meat wafted out of what appeared to be an inn, and the stench of the gutters was almost overpowering. Farfalla gritted her teeth and kept moving as a brusque tauren, almost seven feet tall and reeking of beer, staggered out of the inn and into her path, barely noticing as she dodged his outstretched arm and grunting an apology as she moved on.
Realising she didn’t know where she was going – she had a map, but it didn’t show where the Warchief would be – the young woman sighed. She was going to have to ask one of these…people for directions. Casting her eyes around, her gaze alighted on a female orc, standing at one side of a big archway beyond which darkness loomed. Making her way towards her, the girl caught her eye and smiled, only to be met with a dull, uninterested stare from the creature’s red eyes. Cursing her luck – chances were she’d met the one guard in the city that would show an unnatural interest in what she wanted with the Warchief – she was surprised to find that on asking her question, the orc just grunted and motioned with her hand to the path behind her, the one that led into the inky murkiness and chill of the covered area of the city.
It didn’t exactly look safe. Comforting herself with the thought that people at least knew where she was – not people that cared about her, granted, since it was the Dark Lady and not anyone close to her – and would notice when she didn’t return, or at least send word, the girl stepped into the covered walkway. Instantly it was cooler – much cooler, and much more comfortable for the elf. It was quieter, too, with less people around – the noise of the main square seemed to be dulled somehow. Swallowing, the girl headed down the path, making towards the archway she could see at the end of it. People in here seemed to be interested in her presence – a couple of times she felt, rather than saw, shadowy figures in the doorways of the huts she was passing – much more so than they had been outside. The priestess walked a little faster.
Coming to the end of the shady cavern was not exactly comforting. Before her was a heavily fortified castle. Like all the other buildings in the city it was built squat and close to the ground, with iron struts and timber supporting the roof, and one single, narrow, point of entry, with the banner of the Horde flying on either side, and more of those iron braziers. The path up to the doorway was framed by a shop on one side, and a huge black…thing, on the other. What was it, a tree? A skeleton? Curious, the girl headed towards it and found that it was indeed a tree, with some huge kind of armour hanging from it. Before it was a plaque.
These demon plates were worn by the creature that first cursed our people with bloodlust. By the heroic act of one brave orc – he was defeated. Mannoroth the Destructor is no more. Let these plates always remind us of how far we’ve come and how hard we fought to regain our honor.
- Thrall, Warchief of the Horde
So one of these orcs could take out something that size? However unwillingly, the girl was impressed, and more than a little intimidated. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she carried on up the path towards the fortress.
Expecting to be stopped by the guards outside, she was surprised when she was just waved through. Either someone was expecting her, or she was deemed unimportant enough to be a threat. Judging by the sheer number of people inside the building, Farfalla rather suspected the latter option was the accurate one. They were everywhere – trolls, orcs, a tauren or two – and they appeared to be of all persuasions. Some of them were carrying menacing-looking axes and patrolling, whereas others were clustered around tables piled with books, or talking quietly. Nobody looked at her. She was utterly unimportant.
Passing into the main chamber, the reason for her free passage was quickly made clear. There were other Sin’dorei in there – three of them, Blood Knights by the look of it, to the right of the room. To the left was another, a Magister, this one female, who gave the girl an encouraging smile. More of the orcs with axes were stationed in the room – dotted around the perimeter. And in the middle was a huge throne, on a plinth, on top of which was sat another orc.
It could only be Thrall. The power crackled off him, even for Farfalla, a priest, who had nothing to do with elemental magic. And what a different picture he painted than Sylvanas. Where she was hunched and brooding, Thrall sat up straight, surveying the room around him with a calm look on his face. He commanded the authority of everyone in the room, that much was obvious – even the other blood elves were in awe of him. And now he was looking straight at her.
Approaching the throne, Farfalla prepared to perform her obeisance, but the gruff voice of the man stopped her in her tracks. ‘You’ve come to see me, blood elf? Speak and be quick. I’ve no time for the formalities of your race.’
Deciding silence was the best option, the girl stepped forwards and handed over the letter bearing Sylvanas’ seal. The orc took it with a grunt. ‘Sylvanas is a persistent one. So she’s sent one of Silvermoon’s own champions… how does this change anything?’ Breaking it open, he began to read it. Making eye contact with the blood elf standing next to Thrall’s throne, and noting the warning look in her eyes, the girl knelt, despite Thrall’s previous command. He was still reading the letter. The silence in the room was deafening – everyone seemed to be holding their breath.
Finally, he looked up. And then he stood up, motioning that Farfalla should do the same. She did so, still not quite daring to look him in the eye.
‘Your people suffered a great betrayal by the Alliance, You’ve succeeded in fending off Darnassian attacks as well as spies from Ironforge. Now you’ve defeated a powerful Scourge leader at the footsteps of your home.’ The orc paused. ‘Your worthiness is no longer in question. It is now apparent that you need us and we need you. Return to Lor’themar. Tell him I received his message loud and clear.’ Crushing the letter in the palm of his hand, the orc grinned at the girl, who finally dared to look him full in the face. ‘Welcome to the Horde, elf.’
The tension in the room broke as all the blood elves sighed with relief. Leaving their position beside the throne, the Blood Knights came forward, greeting the girl in Thalassian. ‘Well done, young one. He’s not an easy man to please. Go back to our Regent directly.’
‘Yes sir,’ she muttered. Turning to leave, she came up against the same tauren she had seen before, the one who had stumbled out of the tavern and nearly knocked her over. Except this time, he was almost naked.
Wearing just a tattered loincloth, he grinned at her, the smell of beer still coming off him in waves, and slurred ‘Welcome to the Horde, elvies!’ before bursting into dance. Unfortunately, his gyrations were interrupted as the butt of an orcish axe made contact with the back of his head. As his stunned body hit the floor before her with a crash, and the guard stepped back into his place next to the throne, the girl shuddered, and then jumped as a female voice with a familiar Thalassian accent murmured in her ear.
‘We may have to get used to some of the more…earthy habits of our new allies. Off you go, girl, and well done.’ Turning to see the female magister smiling at her, Farfalla smiled, and in return received a friendly squeeze on the arm. Setting her shoulders, she stepped out of the throne room and prepared to make her long journey back home.
Level 15 – Journey to Orgrimmar.
Note: the next couple of posts will be in-character again, mostly because they deal with travel. Enjoy!
As the elevator doors opened and the gurgling of the abomination guards became audible, Farfalla scowled. Stomping out of the lift, she gave one of the monstrosities a dirty look before heading up the ramp to the tomb of Terenas. As she swept past it, she spitefully pinched out one of the candles that burned in the room, earning herself a burnt finger and thumb and a warning growl from the guard she’d looked daggers at. The girl sighed theatrically and swept out of the small room, heading out towards the courtyard.
As she reached the gateway she stopped, pulling her cloak tighter around her body to keep out the cold, clammy air. She hated this place, wanted to be back in Quel’thalas, where everything was bright and cheerful. Here the stench of death hung in the air, bringing on frequent coughing fits in the young priestess. Even worse, the people were freaks – almost all human before they had died and been reborn, and clearly they hadn’t gained any intelligence in the process. Even their priests were dull. Farfalla longed for the spires of Silvermoon again – at least people there were smart, even if it meant they spent a lot of time thinking about how to get one over on their peers.
No matter. She’d been sent here by the Regent when it was announced that Dar’khan had been brought to justice. Probably because it amused him seeing her face when she was asked to use the Orb of Translocation – if anything was worse than that blasted dragonhawk taxi, it was the Orb – and was now on her way to Kalimdor, acting as a messenger for Sylvanas. Fingering the letter in her pocket, the Dark Lady’s words came back to her…”Take this letter to Thrall in Orgrimmar. As leader of the Horde he will have the final say on accepting the Sin’dorei’s pledge…I’ve added my own seal to the letter as a personal endorsement.’
But where she was sent, she would go, even if she resented it. Trudging down the path out of the city, where the banners of the Forsaken, lining each side of the path, drifted gently in the breeze, the girl could just about make out two zeppelin towers on the other side of the valley. At the top of one, a zeppelin was coming in to dock – its searchlight swept before it like a beacon in the darkness, illuminating the dust in the air. Pausing only to ascertain which of the towers she should climb, Farfalla began the struggle to the top.
Halfway up, she clung to the railing, feeling sick. She was high up, way too high up by her standards, and her head was whirling. Worse, there were bats swooping in and out of the tower – filthy things – and all the time that horrible stench in the air. Suddenly, she heard a squeaky cry – “The zeppelin to Orgrimmar has just arrived! All aboard for Durotar!” – and straightened up, cursing. Dashing to the top of the stairs, she threw herself on to the ship and scuttled below deck so that she wouldn’t have to see the ground moving underneath her. Sitting on the wooden floor, she felt a jerk as the ship creaked into life, and heard a voice say “I hope there are no explosions this time” , and groaned, closing her eyes.
******
Farfalla opened her eyes with a start. She was sitting on a wooden floor in a small room she didn’t recognise. Trying to stand up, she swayed, and cursed again – she was still on the zeppelin. Her hand flew to her pocket – how could she have been so stupid as to fall asleep? What if something had happened to the message she was carrying? – but the letter was still there. She could feel the outline of it through her robe. Relaxing, she loosed her grip on the door jamb and took stock of her surroundings.
Peering out through a doorway at the end of the corridor the room she was in opened onto, she could see a radically different landscape. It was red, for one thing, and barren – hardly any vegetation, just rocks and dust. Now and then an oasis was visible on the ground below, and she could see the coast in the distance. And it was hot – even at this time of evening she could feel the sun beating down, causing the doorway to be lit with an almost unbearable glare in contrast to the darkness of the ship’s belly.
A clanking noise shook her out of her reverie and had her clinging onto the ship again. They must be getting close now, so barring a major accident – which she was trying very hard not to think about – the zeppelin must be coming in to dock. Holding onto the railing, Farfalla dragged herself up the stairs, and emerged onto the deck, into a heat and choking dryness that was unlike anything she could have expected. Pulling off her thick cloak, she stuffed it into her pack before rolling up her sleeves, and then thinking twice and pulling them back down – Light knew what the locals would make of that. Instead, she settled for pulling her hair up away from her neck and tying it in a bun on top of her head.
As the ship creaked into place next to the landing platform, the priestess held her breath, and when it stopped she sent up a silent prayer of thanks. Holding onto the railing, she stepped onto the rickety platform, looked down, and thought better of it – there were cracks in the wooden planks about a foot wide. Looking straight ahead, she bolted for the relative safety, and darkness, of the ramp down to the ground.
Once on solid earth, she felt better, less sick. Seeing a signpost marked Orgrimmar ahead, she set off in the general direction others seemed to be going in. The route took her past a farm, and she held her breath- there must have been twenty swine in the pen next to the hut, and the stench was strong – before it joined up to a wide, open pathway that went through a door and became paved on the inside. The walls of the city, around the doorway, were brutal-looking – made of stone and timber and reinforced by some kind of metal – and the banner of the Horde hung from flagpoles on either side of the arch. Two bored-looking orcs stood in the doorway, one at either side, though they paid little attention to the nervous girl as she passed between them.
Part two tomorrow!
~Farf
This just in: Farf may or may not have been hallucinating, but GMs were newbies once too.
I put in a ticket about Adon - see last post.
<3
~Farf
Level 14 – in which Farf may be hallucinating.
I recognise that this is getting a bit out of order chronologically. If it helps, even though this post is #14, the level at which it actually took place was level 20 (it’s just a bit different on the blog so I can fit everything in.) I’ve also not been to the Undercity yet for the quest I described yesterday (I did that at 21), so yesterday’s post hasn’t happened.
Being level 20, and Ghostlands being 10-20, I was looking for some new places to go and quest, and because the Ghostlands was adjacent to Eversong Woods on the map I assumed that the zones were just joined up linearly, so that ‘Eastern Plaguelands’ place I could see was the next zone on my map must be the one I was meant to go to next. So off I went, jogging down the path. Eventually I got to the place you can see above, which is called the Thalassian Pass. In lore terms, this marks the boundary between the Elvish kingdoms and Lordaeron, which was ruled by humans. It’s also the only entrance to Quel’thalas by land, so it serves as a strategic chokepoint (if you can control it, you can either storm through or block everyone from getting in.) It’s very close to what is now Deatholme, and what is going on in Deatholme is what ties in the lore of Eastern Plaguelands to the Ghostlands.
Deatholme is currently the home of a High Elf named Dar’khan Drathir. He was once a Magister (part of the ruling class in Silvermoon) but turned traitor and helped Arthas to use the Sunwell to resurrect the lich Kel’thuzad. Although technically he’s dead, after the events of the Sunwell Trilogy, in WoW he appears to have been resurrected by the Lich King and he lives in Deatholme where he’s still plotting against Silvermoon and Quel’thalas. Deatholme is full of the kind of Scourge you see in the Eastern Kingdoms, lots of necromancers and skeleton, and it has several plague cauldrons, which are used by the Scourge to brew the plague used to kill living things and make more Scourge. Deatholme is where the Dead Scar begins, so it’s the base Arthas used for his attacks. In-game, you have to collect two powerful artifacts, which are imbued with the magic of the Sunwell, to put Dark’han down – it’s a level 21 ish group quest with really good quest rewards, for the level.
Anyway, the geography of Deatholme is exactly the same as the geography of the Eastern Plaguelands, which suggests that Deatholme might be an outpost in Lordaeron rather than in Quel’thalas – which is backed up by the fact that there’s a second High Elven outpost close to this one in the Eastern Plaguelands. This makes sense, because when you approach the Thalassian pass you see this banner:
- which is the banner of the Scourge and Arthas, suggesting that the Pass is controlled by the Scourge rather than by Quel’thalas, or at the very least they passed through the archway to get into Quel’thalas. Anyway. Once you’re through the archway, the geography of the landscape changes:
- and you’re quite obviously not in Quel’thalas anymore. So my level 20 self, trotting along, felt like I’d done quite well in finding my way around. Then I came across this portal -
- and stopped short, because I’d never seen anything like it before.
Well, I’d never done an instance, and I hadn’t left the Quel’thalas area yet, so I had no idea what a loading screen was other than what you got when you logged on. I had an inkling of what it was for, because in Spyro you had to jump through portals – well, gateways really – to get to different levels, so it wasn’t like I was completely clueless. Anyway, I jumped through it and headed off into the Eastern Plaguelands when suddenly I was stopped by this guy.
Now this is the freaky thing. I remember this guy as being a very helpful High Elf. When I ran past him at level 20 on Farfalla, I could swear that he said something like ‘Stop! Do not go any further, this land is too dangerous for you!’ and told me to come back later when you’re more powerful. But when I was searching the internet for what he actually says so I could write this post, I didn’t come up with anything – Wowhead, Thottbot and Wowwiki all reveal nothing, just point out that his name sounds like ‘add-on’ and he’s situated next to where the expansion pack joins to the rest of the game.
Intrigued, I decided to test it on my druid, who’s level 14, so I just ran him all the way down to Adon and jumped around in front of him. Nothing. So either -
a) he used to do this and for some reason doesn’t now,
b) he only does it to blood elves – which I can’t test, because I don’t have a low-level one, or
c) he never did it and I’m hallucinating.
Food for thought.
~Farf
Level 13 – To Undercity.
Note: today’s post is written from Farfalla’s perspective – in other words, it is in character (IC). While Farfalla is not on an RP server and I don’t actively RP with her, I do have a bit of a back-story and personality worked out.
***************
The cloying mist swirled around the upper reaches of Windrunner Spire as the young priest approached. Shivering and pulling her heavy woollen cloak tighter around her body, Farfalla trudged on towards the distant spires. She’d been sent to clear out some of the ghosts in the area, to help the effort to reclaim the palace for the Sin’dorei. High Executor Mavren had been quick to point out that the task was an honour, and Farfalla knew it was – on an objective sort of level. Everyone knew about the Ranger-General’s miraculous return to her body after her murder, and the success she’d had in claiming Lordaeron for her people. Right now, though, in the dark, cold woods, faced with the prospects of being cut down by Scourge or a rabid wolf or gigantic spider, the honour seemed less of a blessing and more of a symptom of the High Executor’s attitude towards those who were lucky enough to still be alive – that they were expendable.
The road to the top of the tower stretched up ahead of her. She could see the ghostly figures from her – five or six of them on the path, with four or so clustered around something as yet unseen in the entrance to the building. She’d have to prepare herself here, before she went any further. An examination of the earth where she stood revealed cobbled paving stones beneath a thick layer of dirt, dried leaves and the bones of a small animal. Curling her upper lip in distaste at the filth, the priestess removed her cloak and spread it on the floor before her, before taking a seat, closing her eyes and beginning to pray.
Within a minute, things began to happen. A burst of holy fire flashed above the young blood elf’s head and spread down over her body, lighting her from within with a golden glow, causing a silver pendant she wore around her neck to burn with an almost painfully bright light for a brief second. Similarly, a cooler blue light was visible – this one seemed to come from within, surging upwards in a bright explosion and shattering into a sparkling light which briefly illuminated the surrounding area. Farfalla got to her feet and pulled her cloak back over her head, moving with more poise than she had before. She checked the small dagger strapped to her belt and took out her wand, a carved piece of ebony wood which somehow seemed to shimmer in her hand.
A shimmering spirit hovered listless above the path thirty yards or so ahead of the priestess – a female figure with wild, streaming hair and a fixed expression. Murmuring a word of incantation, the priest raised her right hand, where a ball of holy fire seemed to be collecting. Another, smaller circle of light began to swirl around the wand in the priest’s other hand. With a hiss she let the flowing globe of light stream towards the spirit, in the same movement allowing a smaller spark of light to emit from the wand, and then another, and another. The furious ghost streamed toward her, hands outstretched and mouth twisted in a snarl, but Farfalla was ready – closing her eyes, she whispered a word of Thalassian, drawing on her soul to encase her body in a protective shell. Another globe of light was already appearing in her hand, which she launched towards the spectre – which hissed and vanished into a swirl of light, dropping something silvery on the floor as it expired.
Curious, Farfalla bent down and picked up the item. It was a heavy silver necklace, with a blue gem set in the middle. Extremely old-fashioned to her eyes, there was an inscription on the side which was difficult to see in the dim light, written as it was in a looping, swirling script. Using the light from her wand, the priestess squinted at it. Barely visible was the name Sylvanas on the back of the gem.
The priestess was shocked. To find a necklace with the name Sylvanas inscribed on it, in the old home of the House Windrunner, couldn’t be a coincidence – this had to belong to Sylvanas herself. Such an item would surely be valuable, and Farfalla wondered momentarily if she should keep it and attempt to sell it. A foolish idea, her more sensible inner self said – if this belonged to Sylvanas, it would be wrong to keep it, and besides that there’d be nobody she could sell it to without them reporting her to the Magisters. Making up her mind, the girl slipped the necklace into the pocket of her robe and turned to begin the long trudge back to Tranquillien.
******************
Clinging to the back of the dragonhawk, Farfalla tried to think about something else. Swooping above the tops of the trees, the Dead Scar was visible below her as a black slash against the green land. She had her orders from the High Executor – take the necklace to Lady Sylvanas herself, in the Undercity. She wondered if she’d imagined the look exchanged between the Executor and Dame Auriferous when she’d handed the necklace to him – was it triumph? She didn’t know – but she definitely hadn’t imagined his orders. Take the necklace to the Dark Lady herself, at her court in the Undercity. That involved a ride on a dragonhawk to reach Silvermoon, unfortunately for her travel sickness.
As the dragonhawk uttered a shrill shriek and fluttered towards the ground, the girl’s fingers clung onto its feathers and she closed her eyes. Feeling the bump as she landed and staggering off the beast, the priestess bent over the ground, keeping her eyes closed and heaving slightly. Skymistress Gloaming, the flight mistress, looked at her unsympathetically. ‘There’s a trough over there, if you’re going to be sick. Don’t do it here, please, the dragonhawks eat it and it’s unpleasant for all concerned.’ Waving away the offer, Farfalla took a deep breath and stood up straight, opening her eyes finally.
‘How much do I owe you?’
‘Three silver.’
Paying the fee, Farfalla turned away from the woman and headed towards the steps entering the city. She’d never been to Silvermoon proper before – her family came from Fairbreeze Village and she’d undertaken most of her priest training so far in Falconwing Square – and didn’t know what to expect.
What she saw far surpassed what her imagination had provided. Before her stood a bridge leading to a huge archway, in the middle of which was a gigantic statute of Prince Kael’thas. The whole thing was beautiful, carved out of a pale ivory stone and decorated with copper and gold, the colours of the Silvermoon banner.
Entering the city was no less impressive. A large walkway stretched as far as the eye could see, bordered on both sides by tall buildings, curtains of pink and red and blue billowing in a slight breeze, offering glimpses into the lounges beyond. Turning to the right, another road stretched off, with more buildings. A huge arcane patroller lumbered along, crystals in its fuselage humming slightly, and there were people everywhere.
A loud wolf whistle came from above her, to the right, and the girl almost jumped out of her skin. Peering up, she saw a tall…thing, with blue skin and huge tusks and a big pink Mohawk, on a balcony overlooking the street. ‘Eyy, pretty ting, ‘ow ya doing?’ it leered, before being slapped by a male blood elf with blonde hair who shared the balcony with it – along with a huge bull-man, a rotting Forsaken and a squat green bald creature. ‘Don’t mind him, he doesn’t know when to shut up,’ called the Sin’dorei. Unable to speak, Farfalla just nodded and scurried off down the street.
She knew she had to look for an orb of some kind, which could, apparently, transport her from Silvermoon to the Undercity. Coming to another crossroads, at the end of which a female cow appeared to be tending flowers, she made a split-second decision and turned right, following the path as it curved around another huge statue of Kael’thas and emerging in a darkened alleyway where the buildings were somehow even taller than before. 
The darkness made the road feel creepy, and the people didn’t help – there was a drunk sleeping on the floor underneath a pavilion that looked like it led to an inn, and a pale blood elf was lounging on the corner, flanked by a blue demon that looked at her malevolently. Making her way up a slight hill, she looked away and found herself looking into what appeared to be a lounge – there were sofas everywhere and people serving drinks – which had as its focal point a giant green crystal.
Pausing, she watched as an older man sat down on a cushion near the crystal, and then gasped as a bright green beam of light shot out, aimed straight at the man’s forehead. He closed his eyes and smiled broadly, apparently refreshed by the energy it provided. Another man smoked a pipe in the corner, long tendrils of smoking emerging from his mouth and nostrils and spiralling towards the ceiling. Moving a little closer, the girl watched transfixed as a woman sat down and began to use the crystal. A ringing began to sound in her ears, and almost unconsciously she moved into the doorway, putting her head on one side and smiling slightly. She felt…thirsty, somehow. A serving girl noticed her and smiled, holding out a hand to her and beckoning her in.
Farfalla yelped, and shook her head, slapping at a suddenly painful area on her chest. The pendant around her neck had let out a spark of golden light, burning her and shocking her back to full consciousness. Looking back up at the serving girl, the priestess saw that the smile on her face was stretched somehow, and her eyes looked glazed, as did the eyes of most of the people in the room. Ducking away, the girl scurried towards the end of the road, just wanting to be out of the dark alley and back in the sunlight.
The view that greeted her was amazing. A marble-carved fountain set in the middle of the square channelled a huge stream of water high into the air, before it splashed down into a large, shallow pool. On either side, an ornate, carved staircase rose to meet a huge red plaza, from which a slender bridge curved, joining Sunfury Spire, the royal palace, to the rest of the city. High above, a massive green fel crystal hovered, somehow embedded into the architecture of the tallest tower of the palace.
And a huge platoon of royal guards stood outside the entrance of the palace, flanking either side of the road. The girl walked slowly up the bridge, stopping and saluting the first guard, who had lowered his halbard to block her path. Rooting in her bag, she produced the letter written by Dame Auriferous, requesting that she be given access to the Orb of Translocation. The man read the letter quickly, then looked the priestess up and down suspiciously, before nodding and taking her arm. ‘You will bow before the Regent and not disturb him,’ he commanded, before he marched her off into the palace.
Lor’themar Theron looked up briefly as the guard entered the palace, his gaze flitting to the young girl, who knelt and performed her obescience. The guard saluted, and then handed over her letter of recommendation. The Regent Lord read it, and then looked at the girl once more.
‘You may stand, priestess.’
Farfalla got to her feet unsteadily, keeping her head down and not looking her ruler in the eye. ‘You have found something of importance, I gather?’ he said, in a not unkind voice.
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘Show me.’
Farfalla took the necklace from her pocket and handed it to Lor’themar, taking care not to touch his hand. Examining it, the Regent Lord smiled, and then handed it back.
‘You should be careful to pay your respects when giving this to Sylvanas, priest. I’m not all that sure she’ll be that happy to receive it. I expect she’ll send you back with your ears ringing. Still, at least you’ll be in one piece…can’t be said for some of the visitors to that city.’
The girl laughed nervously, and placed the heavy pendant back in her pocket.
‘You may use the Orb, priestess, and return the same way. One of the mage trainers will instruct you in how to use it. Good luck.’
‘Thank you, Sir,’ Farfalla muttered, as a slender Sin’dorei woman with red hair emerged from a side room and took her arm once again. Smiling encouragingly, the woman led Farfalla up a ramp, to another room behind the throne room. At the top stood a huge red orb, bound in a gold casing.
‘You place your hands on it and close your eyes,’ she explained. ‘Don’t move around too much, and don’t try to keep your eyes open – it’ll make you sick. When you’re ready, I’ll cast the incantation – you’ll arrive touching the Orb’s counterpart, in Lordaeron.’
Farfalla nodded, and closed her eyes –
- And staggered to the side, tumbling over. Instead of hitting the carpeted floor, as she expected, she landed on cold stone flags, which shocked her into opening her eyes. She was no longer in Silvermoon – she was in a cold stone room, covered in ivy and with a vaulted ceiling. Through an archway, she could make out a courtyard.
Pulling her cloak around her to ward off the chill, and trying to fight down the growing sense of nausea she was feeling, the girl left the comforting glow of the Orb of Translocation, which seemed to light up the air around it with a kind of heat, and walked towards the courtyard. She emerged at the top of a flight of stone steps, which led down to a path running at right angles to where she was now.
In the middle of the path was a smashed statue – only the legs were remaining – and to the right it tapered into a bridge over foul, green, diseased-looking water. The air seemed cold and thin, and there was a whispering in the air which could have been the wind through trees, or could have been something else.
Following the path, Farfalla ducked through an archway in the wall and saw that the path led through a passageway lined with statues. In the entrance, there was a large bell, lying cracked and broken on the floor – ivy was creeping over it.
Walking through the creepy passage, she entered a large, circular room, with a throne at one end. There was a symbol on the floor that she recognised as the royal coat of arms of the kingdom of Lordaeron. The whispering seemed even louder in this room, and she was glad to leave it behind.
Heading down a steep passage, she entered another, smaller room, with a tomb lying in the middle, surrounded by candles. She could hear a gurgling – probably the water outside draining into the castle somewhere, she thought. Kneeling to examine the tomb, she wiped the dust off a plaque and read the name ‘King Terenas Menethil.’ The human king…that traitor Arthas’ father; she knew the name well. What a fool.
Brushing the dirt off her knees, she moved towards the entrance to the city – and stopped, petrified. A huge abomination – no, two abominations – were standing in the doorway to the elevator, gurgling. Backing away very slowly, Farfalla inched towards another entrance – only to come up short as there were another two blocking that doorway. Looking around, she panicked – they were on every door! She had to tell someone – Sylvanas had to know! Falling over her feet, she scrambled towards the door –
-and ran slap bang into a huge bull-man like the one she’d seen in Silvermoon. Tauren or something, weren’t they called? Peeling herself off his chest, she gabbled incoherently ‘S- scourge – there – on the door! Have to warn someone!’ only to be met with a huge hand steadying her shoulder. ‘Calm down, little one. They’re tame, in so far as they can be. They won’t hurt you.’
‘But they look – like those ones in the Ghostlands, which terrorize the town- they’re tame? How do you tame one of those? Why?’ she questioned incredulously, as the huge beast led her towards the door of the elevator, stopping in-between the two monsters as if to prove that, indeed, they wouldn’t hurt anyone.
‘I don’t know, child. The Dark Lady moves in mysterious ways – these are by no means the most frightening thing to be seen in this city. I take it you haven’t been here before? What brings you here?’
‘No – I have to take something to Sylvanas,’ she said, as they stepped onto the lift and were taken down into the bowels of the city. ‘Where do I find her?’
‘Near the apothecary quarter. Go down past the bank, across the bridge, through the arch and then follow the path until you see a tall archway with her guards on the door. Speak to them.’
‘Thankyou.’ Entering the city together, she turned to thank the tauren once more, and then move away – but was stopped by his hand on her shoulder once again. ‘Take my advice, child, for it comes from a friend. Do your business in this city and then leave. Don’t look at anyone sideways, for they’re a vengeful people here. The Alliance say the orcs are bloodthirsty, but they have nothing on the Forsaken. Most of all’ – the man lowered his voice to a whisper – ‘don’t be taken in by her. They’re fanatics about their Queen here, and Earthmother knows she can weave a spell over people, like Azshara herself.’
Farfalla nodded, and backed away. The man raised his hand in a wave, smiled, and then left.
As she trudged along the cold passage, Farfalla silently fumed. The cow-man had no idea what he was talking about, the big brute – no idea of what Sylvanas had overcome. Obviously he was just too crude to be able to appreciate all she had done for the Horde and for the Sin’dorei. To be expected from one of the lesser races no doubt, but still annoying.
Turning the corner, she saw the deathstalkers, the royal guards, up ahead and crossed the bridge, holding out her letter of recommendation before her. Sneering, the walking corpse read it, then looked her up and down. ‘Show me,’ he said, in the driest, most rattling voice she had ever heard – it made her feel thirsty just to hear it.
She held her head high. ‘My instructions were to deliver this to Sylvanas herself. I shall show it to no other.’ No worm graveyard was going to frighten her.
A choking, wheezing sound began to emanate from the guard, which startled the priestess until she realised he was laughing at her. ‘Very well, young one. We’ll see how long you last before the Dark Lady with that attitude. Proceed.’
Surprised that he didn’t plan to escort her, Farfalla put her hands in her pockets and proceeded up the dark corridor, keeping her head high. The other guards didn’t stop her – presumably anyone who got past the first set was to be allowed to reach the throne room. The end of the passage approached, and Farfalla could see a tall pedestal, with a huge demon and a couple of Sin’dorei, who were dressed like Magisters. Envoys, no doubt. Climbing the steps, the girl attempted to move towards the hooded figure sitting on the throne. The demon snarled at her as she passed, and made to stop her, but a cough from one of the elves caused him to pause.
At the cough, the shadowy figure’s head lifted, and Farfalla knew she was being examined. Then Sylvanas arose, pushing the hood she wore back to reveal her face – a face ravaged by death and yet still beautiful, and still so elvish.
‘And you are?’
Farfalla dropped to her knees, almost forced there by the power of the woman’s stare. ‘Farfalla, my lady.’
‘Farfalla what?’
‘Just Farfalla, my lady.’
Sylvanas let this pass without comment. ‘What are you here for, child?’
Fumbling in her pocket, Farfalla pulled out the necklace. ‘High Executor Mavren told me to –‘ she began, but was cut off by Sylvanas’ words. ‘What’s that you have there? That necklace looks somehow familiar. Give it here!’
Holding out the necklace, Farfalla lowered her gaze as the Dark Lady snatched it from her grasp. For a few seconds, there was absolute silence in the room, as the banshee gazed at it. ‘It can’t be! After all this time, I thought it was lost forever,’ she murmured.
Farfalla slowly got to her feet, watching the woman. As if feeling her gaze, Sylvanas looked up, and for a second their eyes connected. Then the queen broke her gaze, and stood up tall. When next she spoke her voice was cold.
‘You thought this would amuse me? Do you think I long for a time before I was the queen of the Forsaken? Like you, it means nothing to me, and Alleria Windrunner is a long dead memory!’
The messenger girl took a step back, shocked, and a cruel smile formed on Sylvanas’ face. ‘You may now remove yourself from my presence, priest.’
Fighting back tears, Farfalla turned to leave, but one of the blood elves grasped her wrist. ‘That didn’t go too well, did it, Farfalla?’ he said kindly, in a low voice. ‘Don’t worry yourself. The Dark Lady wouldn’t harm you if you displease her – unlike her own people – and I expect that’s why your High Executor sent you with this rather than coming himself. What are you doing now? Going back to Silvermoon? I have need of a messenger to another part of the Eastern Kingdoms, not far from here, if you’re interested in–‘
The man’s voice faded as he turned to look at Sylvanas. Having returned to the middle of the platform, the queen had begun to chant an incantation. Silvery light filled the room, shooting from corner to corner, as the woman’s voice rose in song. The eyes of everybody in the room were focussed on her now.
The Magister fell to his knees, pulling Farfalla along with him. The other blood elf knelt also, as did the Forsaken in the room. Only the demon remained standing, as Farfalla realised she knew this song – all Sin’dorei knew this song – and as the strains of the song echoed across the city she sang under her breath, tears falling from her eyes, as did the Magisters – ‘Anar’alah, anar’alah belore…Sin’dorei…Shindu fallah na…Sin’dorei…’ – the Lament of the Highborne, the song of the elves.
Level 12 – Windrunner Spire and the Dark Lady.
The quest you get at the top of Windrunner Spire is, in my opinion, the best quest in the game bar none (including Wrathgate.) This is the first quest that you get which involves you personally with a major lore figure, which is always going to be memorable in itself, but for me it’s compounded by the fact that it’s Sylvanas you’re dealing with.
Windrunner Spire was the home of the House Windrunner before the Third War. As I mentioned before, there were three sisters – Vereesa, Alleria and Sylvanas Windrunner, who were all Farstriders (or rangers), the second most powerful faction of Silvermoon after the Magisters. Sylvanas, as the middle sister, became Ranger General of Silvermoon, in charge of protecting its forests. Alleria and Vereesa sided with the Alliance and remained with them after the Second War, whereas Sylvanas remained in Quel’thalas with the rest of the High Elves – the family fractured. Tragedy befell two of the sisters – Alleria disappeared after helping to seal the Dark Portal from Draenor, to prevent the demonic Horde sending more troops into Azeroth, and Sylvanas was murdered by Arthas and raised as a banshee, but managed to regain control of her mind and body and now leads the Forsaken in Undercity, where she’s revered as Sylvanas the Banshee Queen, Dark Lady and Queen of the Forsaken. Vereesa is in Dalaran with her husband Rhonin – she leads the Silver Covenant, who represent the Alliance in the city.
You’re given a quest where you’re sent to the spire to clear out some of the ghosts and ghouls around there, and the mobs you have to kill have a chance of dropping an item, The Lady’s Necklace, with the inscription – ‘To Sylvanas. Love always, Alleria.’ This item starts a quest.
The necklace shimmers, a remarkable piece of jewelry that doesn’t seem to succumb to the gloom that permeates the Ghostlands. Given the inscription, and where you found it, it must be the lost property of Lady Sylvanas Windrunner herself!
Perhaps it would be best to first take it to High Executor Mavren at Tranquillien? He seems to be the highest ranking Forsaken in the area and is sure to know what to do with it.
You take it to the High Executor, and he’s shocked.
This is quite extraordinary! It appears to be a gift to Lady Sylvanas Windrunner from her sister, Alleria!
You must take it to her in the Undercity at once! The lady holds court in the Royal Quarter.
To get to the Undercity you have to visit Silvermoon and use the Orb of Translocation, which transports you instantly across what would otherwise be a long run through level 50+ zones. On Farfalla, that was the first time I’d actually gone to Silvermoon, and it was amazing. I’m going to be blogging about that journey in-character – Farf is not on an RP realm but I do have a bit of a back-story worked out for her – another day.
You arrive in Undercity and find your way to Sylvanas, and hand over the necklace. She is not very amused by this at all.
And you are?
What’s that you have there? That necklace looks somehow familiar. Give it here!
<Sylvanas takes the necklace from your grasp.>
It can’t be! After all this time, I thought it was lost forever.
<After a lingering moment the Lady seems to become aware once again of her surroundings, composing herself.>
You thought this would amuse me? Do you think I long for a time before I was the queen of the Forsaken? Like you, it means nothing to me, and Alleria Windrunner is a long dead memory!
<She drops the amulet to the ground.>
You may now remove yourself from my presence, priest.
She’s not just mad, though. After a few seconds she starts a little event…and when I was taking screenshots for this yesterday, I got incredibly lucky and had someone turn in the quest while I was there, so I got screenshots of it.
This is Blizzard’s official machinima of the song she sings, which is better than me just embedding the song here because it shows the events of the Third War and how Sylvanas died and was raised as a banshee by Arthas, as well as the creation of the Dead Scar in Eversong Woods. It’s called the Lament of the Highborne. I’ll put the lyrics underneath, in Thalassian and English.
Anar’alah, Anar’alah belore
Sin’dorei
Shindu fallah na
Sin’dorei
Anar’alah
Shindu Sin’dorei
Shindu fallah na
Sin’dorei
Anar’alah belore
Shindu Sin’dorei
Shindu fallah na
Sin’dorei
Anar’alah belore
Belore
By the light, by the light of the sun
Children of the blood
Our enemies are breaking through
Children of the blood
By the light
Failing children of the blood
They are breaking through
O children of the blood
By the light of the sun
Failing children of the blood
They are breaking through
O children of the blood
By the light of the sun
The sun
That video also shows Sylvanas’ old model – in-game she had a Night Elf model until the release of the WotLK expansion, where they changed it to the (much better) one you see in my screenshots above.
For my part, the story and and personality of Sylvanas, is the most interesting, and tragic, in the whole of World of Warcraft. She was a middle sister, the mediator in a family of three strong personalities, who joined the Rangers and rose to the top. She failed to protect Quel’thalas from the Scourge and was tortured by Arthas and then raised as a banshee, which of course meant she no longer had any connection to natural magic and could never commune with the land in the way she had – so she turned to necromancy. Regaining her mind, she managed to take the Undercity with the aid of Varimathras and other dreadlords, which she defends from the Scarlet Crusade and the Alliance, as well as stretching her defenses thin by sending troops to Silvermoon to protect the city where she is no longer welcome. Her apothecaries were working on a plague to use against their enemies, but in Wrath of the Lich King she was betrayed by her grand apothecary, Putress, who used the plague to destroy Alliance and Horde troops at the first opportunity, weakening her position within the Horde and cementing the dangers she faces from Alliance attacks. And then her city was overthrown by a coup, spearheaded by Varimathras, working to serve a higher demon who some think may be Sargeras. Working with Thrall and Vol’jin (and you, if you do the Wrathgate questline as a Horde member) she retook the city, only to find King Varian Wyrnn marching into her throne room to kill both her and Thrall – she was only saved by Jaina Proudmoore appearing at the last second and teleporting the Alliance armies away. The part she has to play in Icecrown Citadel, the home of Arthas, remains to be seen – she has a very personal bone to pick with him.
This is just the kind of quest you don’t forget doing, which is why I wanted to write about it ASAP – you actually complete it at a higher level than 12. You’ll have to forgive my eagerness.
Tomorrow, some RP!
~Farf
Level 11 – Swimming.
Ahh, swimming. This is more of ‘Farf being an utter noob’ (I should really add that as a category for my posts, to be honest.) Anyway, there’s a quest at the Farstrider Enclave which has you jump into the lake next to it and despatch some ghosts, which apparently are hanging around after dying during a shipwreck in the area. There’s also another quest, given by one of the ghosts, on an island in the middle of the lake, which asks you to dive to the bottom and retrieve some charms from piles of mud there.
To be able to do these quests you have to be able to go below the waterline. I got them before my friend took over levelling for me, and decided to attempt it – it didn’t seem too hard, anyway. Of course, being me, I could not figure out how you went underwater, at all. At first I thought maybe it was a skill (something like Diving, a bit like Parry or Block or whatever) that got unlocked after you completed a certain quest (in Spyro 2, you only got the ability to headbutt once you’d been taught how to do it in the game, by that Tinkerbell character, whereas in Spyro 3 you can do it from the beginning) but after I searched all over the Internet I couldn’t find anything about it. So I figured you’d need to press some special combination of buttons – after trying everything on my keyboard, that didn’t work either.
At this point I was completely fed up. I’d died several times from ghosts aggroing on me and me not being able to face them to kill them – come on, I couldn’t work out how to get underwater, I was hardly going to be able to kill a mob without being able to see it properly (especially, like I said the other day, because the Ghostlands are so dark and creepy) – and yet again I’d spent hours on a quest without making any progress at all. A very fed up Farfalla made a phone call to her WoW-playing friend, who yet again roared with laughter at my failures.
Of course, to swim you just press down both mouse buttons and move the mouse forward. Except I wasn’t playing with a mouse, I was playing on a laptop with a touchpad, and at that point I was doing everything with my keyboard – I didn’t use the touchpad at all, which meant I was just swimming round in frustrating circles. I eventually had to find out how to bind keys so that I could bind Page Up to Pitch Up and Page Down to Pitch Down, which meant I could actually get underwater and deal with the quest. Hurrah. Great success?
Of course not. I now had to deal with the little bar that kept appearing at the top of my screen as soon as I went underwater. All I understood that it appeared when I dived down, it disappeared when I reached the surface again, and if it ticked down to nothing while I was still underwater I took massive amounts of damage for no apparent reason that I couldn’t seem to be able to heal through.
It was my Breath bar, of course. Back in the day when I was doing these quests, you didn’t get the cushy three minutes underwater before running out of breath and dying that you do now – you got one minute. That made certain underwater quests really difficult – the ones in Stranglethorn Vale on the Vile Reef and the ones in Faldir’s Cove, hidden to the south in the Arathi Highlands spring to mind – although of course being in a 10-20 zone this one was still really easy. Despite that fact, I was bobbing around underwater like I didn’t have a care in the world – well I didn’t, until I died. Even worse, when I realised what was causing the problem, I went the other way and became ridiculously careful, not spending more than 20 seconds underwater – which meant doing the quests was even harder.
I do think these quests were a contributing factor to enraging and making my friend level a bit for me. That and the run between Tranquillien and the Farstrider Enclave. I only found out very recently that there’s a path over the hills – on all my characters I’d just been haring it cross-country, which was not exactly good times in terms of avoiding corpse-running. Anyway, annoyed as I was at the time, I include these things here because frustrating as it was, it is certainly a memory, which is what this blog is all about.
Tomorrow, happier times at Windrunner Spire.
~Farf
Level 10 – Knucklerot and Luzran.
I cannot count the amount of times this chubby twat and his brother ground me into oblivion on Farfalla. Every time I ran away from one I would back straight into the other. They seemed to aggro on me as soon as I set foot into the zone – they practically came lumbering up to Tranquillien, swinging their clubs and gibbering with anticipation, to turn me into a bloody smear on the floor as soon as I left the safety of the inn or the flightpath.
Well, alright, maybe that’s being a bit over the top, but they certainly made me miserable for a while. Obviously, their model – the generic abomination – became ingrained into my brain, and when I finally visited Undercity (more about that later this week, by the way) it took me about ten minutes to dare to venture down into the lift area, because I was convinced the guards were going to smash me into pulp.
So yeah.
God, revenge is sweet.
Level 9 – Ghostlands.
First of all, I have to apologise for not posting yesterday (if there’s anybody reading my ramblings, that is.) I gave myself the day off to catch up with some family and do some other stuff, but now I’m back with my nose to the grindstone.
Anyway, this is Farfalla in the Ghostlands. As I’ve mentioned before, this is the second zone you go to as a Blood Elf (if you’re following the quest progression, that is, not just deciding to head off to the Barrens or whatever), which takes you from about level 10 to level 20. It’s a very different place to Eversong Woods. Geographically, it looks the same, there are blood elf ruins everywhere, lots of trees, a river, mountains and lakes – but this place was burned to the ground by the Sin’dorei themselves after the Third War, to prevent it from being defiled any more by the Scourge, as well as to make their victory worthless. As you can imagine, it’s a pretty sad place – the quests here are definitely darker in content than those in Eversong Woods, involving reclaiming lost villages and vanquishing High Elf spirits to put them to rest. Rather than being well-lit and green and autumnal, like the Woods are, it’s always dark and grey here.
The fountain you can see behind me in the picture is in the centre of Tranquillien, the town of the zone, which also has the flight path (something else I didn’t know about but soon grew to love – running all the way from Tranquillien to Silvermoon and back every two levels to train is not exactly fun times.) Again, architecturally it’s the same as all blood elf towns, except this one has basically been destroyed, and is still beseiged by Scourge and trolls and plagued animals and Light knows what else. Tranquillien is also a faction – you gain reputation with them as you quest, ending up Exalted pretty easily, which is nice because you get an awesome cloak (with a lot of stamina for the level) at that point.
Lore-wise, the Tranquillien faction is made up of blood elves and Forsaken (making this the first time in-game you encounter a different faction within the Horde.) The town was abandoned by the Quel’dorei as Arthas’ armies advanced, and the two groups are now working together to try and retake the town as a part of the Sin’dorei’s rebuilding of their realm. It’s also explained that the Forsaken there have been sent by Sylvanas, which is poignant, given that as Ranger-General of Quel’thalas she was in charge of protecting the land – something she’s not given up on in undeath. There’s an amazing quest to do with Sylvanas herself – amazing even if you aren’t an utter fangirl like I am – but I’ll be writing more about that later.
Anyway, the reason that this makes it onto my blog – other than being a new zone, which is fairly momentous as a low-level newbie – is because I have something to own up to. So here goes:
I hated the Ghostlands and couldn’t stand levelling there. It was dark, creepy and frightening, and the quests were harder than what I was used to.
Don’t believe me? It took me an hour and a half to complete one quest, where you have to find an abandoned wagon and collect the supplies off it to take them back to an NPC in Tranquillien. The screen was dark, I couldn’t see anything, and I kept getting attacked by zombies. On top of that, I was now playing on my own laptop instead of his PC, and without a mouse I was an utter failure at movement, which, when combined with the higher density of mobs in the Ghostlands, meant lots of deaths and lots of running back to my corpse. I remember beginning questing at level 11 in the Ghostlands one Saturday, and four hours later, I was level 11 and a half, with all my gear broken, one quest complete, and in an extremely bad temper. This was also my first encounter with elite mobs – mobs that have a lot more health, and hit much harder, than regular mobs for that level – two gigantic Abominations called Knucklerot and Luzran that made my life hell. I ran away from one and into the path of another more times than I can count.
So I didn’t level too much here at first. In fact, I was pretty much ready to give up the game as something I wasn’t going to be into if it carried on in the same vein – I don’t like horror. I rang my friend and ranted at him, and as a result, he did most of 11-16 for me. Slowly, though, I began to come around to the idea of playing again.Watching him quest helped a lot, plus he explained things to me – he forced me to apply DoTs and then turn around and run, for one thing, meaning I at least learned to keyboard turn (I know! Keyboard turning, the work of the devil. Believe me, it was better than nothing) – meant that I learned some more about game mechanics too, such as applying DoTs as I pulled a mob, so that I would get more damage out of them over the course of the fight. Once I was more comfortable with it I would usually take over again, but a couple of quests – the ones to do with Amani trolls and the ending quests in Deatholme – I just abandoned completely and let him do. It was either that or the laptop going out of the window.
Check back tomorrow for more rantings about Knucklerot and his friend, something I’m sure many a newbie who levelled for the first time in the Ghostlands can empathise with.
~Farf
