Bugman

World of Light

Teemo!

Location: Dripstone Cave
Words Written: 692
XP Gained: 1
Mentions: Kamek and the Koopa Troop @DracoLunaris, Primrose @Yankee
Powers Used: Guerilla Warfare

The bugs were no match for the motley crew's assault, to little surprise of the Yordle. This was no solo mission where whole columns of enemies could be flattened in second by a carefully planned rockfall. Every dart had to be aimed carefully to be delivered into the small frame of a bug. Though it was no careful composition with bans and agreed upon picks, the comrades Teemo had unexpectedly found himself among definitely seemed to not only hold their own but also fill quite a variety of roles that he could rely upon them to fill out his deficiencies in the moment. Be it the beefiness of the one with the really big spikey shell, to the guys with staves, he felt that at least at the moment he probably wasn't going to die. Well, insofar as a Yordle could die the little badger chuckled mentally, for now oblivious to the different rules of life and death in this new realm.

He turned once addressed. Saluting with thumb, index and middle fingers to his fuzzy forelock he gave the short but accurate reply: "Captain Teemo."

Truth be told, having only now gained some semblance of sobriety following the consumption of mushrooms that - whatever its real name was - would most certainly be illegal in any civilization that came upon them, he was quite confused. But he saw the Koopa Troop rushing off to meet new foes and reasoned that if they had saved his life they must be allies. Thus he made the decision to go over to help out. The new foes seemed if anything to be even more minute in scale compared to the last ones, a problem that ensured his dartsmanship was made all the harder with their zigging and zagging. While he was confident he could hit them even from this distance, the occasional miss still wouldn't be worth exhausting his admittedly finite supply of darts, particularly given his lack of any poisoned tips should a more threatening foe appear. It was thus that he focused on once more hiding behind any stone he could find to make use of Guerilla Warfare, launching fast but deadly salvos once the new enemies were much closer to be hit with more accuracy and eliminating the possibility they would dodge the admittedly slow projectiles that the darts were.

Not having had to contribute much given the apparent competence of the turtle folk, Teemo went on to collect any darts that weren't shattered by impact after the fight was over, muttering "Waste not, want not." to himself as he did so. While obviously he needed these people to survive, his discomfort at being in what wasn't exactly a solo mission was already coming into some degree of play. But for the sake of himself and others he like, he knew to damn well shut up about it rather than being a lone wolf drama queen.

As he followed the party, he frowned at some of the words being spoken. They mentioned others, and paths taken, events he wasn't privy too. "You guys have one hell of a story to tell when we're safe!" he said, looking around. "I reckon wherever this is, its quite far from Bandle City." he added, now back to muttering grimly.

With the march not ceasing, the sight of items for the taking my have lured the eyes of the rest of the party, but not recognizing any of them he turned his gaze towards the mushrooms instead. He certainly did not recognize these either, but a mushroom was a mushroom. Be it for eating or for slaughtering, a mushroom could always find use. Though he wouldn't eat them quite yet, he made sure to grab as many to hide in his satchel as he could, only ceasing when his tiny frame became all but comically oversized with the sudden intake of baggage.

After listening to one proposal of how to proceed, he nonchalantly pointed his blowpipe towards the basilisks and lizard people, and even more nonchalantly given the contents of his words made his own suggestion: "If we got time let's kill those guys. All of 'em."

See you space samurai... A Space Opera

I don't know why my hider isn't working.

@Nightknight

You have an unclosed h3 tag beginning at "what do you bring to the table"

See you space samurai... A Space Opera

Crew Sheet

Full Name

'Crow'

---

Core Details

Name: Michael "Crow" Statner
Age:49
Gender:Male
Species:Heavily Modified Human

---

Who are you?

Michael depending on the instance can look anything from a homeless cyber-pyscho, to a high-tech villain clad in massive black cybernetics and bearing glowing red eyes at a height of nine feet. His constant experimenting upon his own body, combined with how much travelling he has to do as well as changes in outfit make him oft unrecognizable on first glance. However if paying more attention, one can quickly discern the similarities beyond just judging a book by its cover. The way he swaggers arrogantly, yet as if he's not quite accustomed to his own legs. The sudden sagging of his proud shoulders the moment he feels in any way threatened — even the tone of voice that somehow manages to be ever so slightly nasal despite being rendered by a machine with no nose to interfere. Much like the ship of Theseus, perhaps no single part of the man remains original. But at the same time one sees a reflection of his true self: that post teenage, slightly pimply nerd that was so far in over his head. The clueless geek just lucky enough to get away with it, yet not lucky enough to do anything with it. The one constant of his life is his little cybernetic companion. While the cybernetics and gene enhancements certainly make it look odd in contrast to other birds, perhaps the most interesting part of its appearance is that the decades of its life have left its feathers an almost off-white grey. Bringing everyone a doubt regarding the man's sanity, he will often be found speaking to it to no response, sometimes even arguing.

Upon the vessel, many would remark quite quickly that Michael is somewhat of a stalker. Keeping track of everybody's schedules, collecting fallen hairs or spit samples from plates, the likes. If asked why he needs this even when he would have blood samples in the event of medical care being needed, he would still insist this is simply to ensure he would be better prepared to help in an emergency. He will usually be almost annoyingly polite, and will avoid conflict whenever he can. The most he will do to express displeasure (unless he feels threatened) is to simply blare his choice of music at unbearable volume. Always arrogant and self-righteous, he will oft look down upon the crew when they break the law as is inevitable. The hypocrisy will rarely go explained by him, but those he truly trusts will simply be told that his goal and thus by extension he is above the law in his opinion. While many in the crew might find him an irritant, they may also find him quite invaluable once his talents are needed.

---

What do you bring to the table?

Michael is a man of higher education. Physics, chemistry, biology, computer science, medicine. You name it, he's learned it while making damn sure he doesn't forget it by sticking it into a brain that is more than human. While he prefers to apply his skills and knowledge by dealing with things complex enough to interest his brief attention span outside of his own research, he can double as a secondary professional in many fields in a pinch. Doctor, ship mechanic, et-cetera, he has read the books on it through and through. To the crew more carefree with their bodies, he would offer to help them out by applying his experimentation with genetics and cybernetics to the world. Though if necessary he'll be more than willing to have people die to get his way, he insists on a pretense of pacifism to try keep an air of moral superiority. It is thus that he carries no true weapons about his body and unless cornered will run away from any fight that comes his way. If forced to fight however, he will rely on his cybernetics rather than any particular skill. Surgical blades and mechanical tools will slice and crush in melee, whilst from more distance his vocal emitter will become a sonic weapon and a cybernetic limb for running currents to restart hearts or deal with electronics will become a shock weapon of sorts. Finally a laser used for cutting open bodies to operate, for welding, and engraving, will suddenly find use to shoot or blind folk from afar.

---

What's your problem?

There are four main reasons for Statner to be a traveller as such. First and foremost, he is in quite a lot of trouble with the law. Ever since those experiments as a freshman in university, he's been on the run. Since then he hasn't ceased violating the laws of the Vangarian Empire and nature alike. From cooking up drugs for a quick buck to unlicensed surgery, he has quite the rep sheet across planets he has been to. Second, he has accumulated a great deal of debt from collectors licensed and illegal alike. Not eager (and after the years unable) to repay everyone he owes, he prefers to just run away and get in even more debt from new loans. Third, wandering the stars provides new experiences and things to learn from and research. New planets, new lifeforms, new technologies. The final reason is the one he would tell anyone who asks, is that all of his research into living things and how to improve them is with an altruistic goal in mind. When having free time on some world, he will frequently nip over to the slums or an orphanage to give an ailing person a free bit of healthcare.

---

Life in the crew

Michael found the crew about a year ago when short of cash, he agreed to do some under the table augmenting for the son of a trade magnate. Yet, when the family were victims of a clever heist of the Guernica's crew, the commotion was just enough to make the Doctor's hand slip up and unfortunately kill the lad he was augmenting. Knowing well his life was forfeit if he stayed with the family, he caught up to the heisters begging and pleading for them to take him on as he was left with no options. After a sufficiently pathetic display pity was taken, and thus he found residence on the vessel. Though he doesn't care to be bogged down with any one particular task, he does find himself doing the odd jobs demanding brains and books that the more Samurai members of the crew wouldn't care for. Hacking here, patching up a faulty prosthetic servo there, he earns his stay while pursuing his inner goal of perfecting life.

Here is the most of the sheet. Depending on how much creative liberty we have for how we can describe the events that lead to the character appearing on the ship, I might slightly change the life in the crew section.

See you space samurai... A space opera

Having just finished rewatching cowboy bepop im absolutely interested

Would want to play a cyborg doctor/scientist%engineer fella on the run after a little unethical experimentation

World of Light

The Swift Scout

Name: Teemo
Game Origin: League of Legends
Appearance:

Personality:

Teemo rides a thin line between chipper compatriot and unrepentant killer

~ Tristana

There are two sides to Teemo. Outside of missions he is a kind, friendly yordle, his tiny stature hiding the size of his heart. Yet in a mission, he does whatever needs to be done not limiting himself to brutality if the demand for such is there. Outside of war, he always makes sure to give people his best. Calm, curious, and friendly, he has all the traits typical to a yordle. He helps those in need, loves making friends, an almost childish attitude to justice than can be summarized as a love of "fairness", and most peculiarly has a certain naivete that seems almost paradoxical when superimposed on his ruthlessness in battle. He has an appreciation for music, playing his flute whenever the opportunity arises.

Teemo has an aversion to fighting as part of a group however. Speculation on why this is has lead to many theories. Some say that he is afraid (perhaps due to experiencing such) of losing those with him. At others its because he - somewhat arrogantly - believes that the would slow him down, showcasing a more negative part of his personality. Others who know him better suggest that he doesn't want others to see him be the cold killer he becomes in times of violence. The truth is, all of these suggestions have some merit. He would prefer to have all his cherished friends not perish in the dangerous scraps he gets himself into and he would prefer they keep seeing him as the cute furry creature that they see in peacetime.

Time to put on my killing hat.

~ Teemo

Background: A native of Bandle City, Teemo defends the Yordlish homeland at all costs. Swiftly rising to the rank of Captain in the military, he does not use or carry the rank by virtue of command. It is largely simply an acknowledgement of his skill as a soldier. Though undeniably cute, many a would-be aggressor against Bandle City would find themselves victims of his guerilla warfare. Now a Scout of the Mothership, he was on yet another mission to mercilessly slaughter would-be transgressors when he found himself in a new world entirely.

Specialty: Teemo is an expert of guerilla warfare. Hit-and-run tactics, ambushes, traps, you name it, he will use unconventional means to get an upper hand on enemies that are otherwise superior in numbers, strength, or other means.
Level: 1
Experience: 0/10 (The amount of EXP required to level up will increase by 10 each level, but rewards get bigger, too)
Powers:

• GUERRILLA WARFARE - If Teemo stands still and takes no actions for a short duration, he becomes invisible. If he's in bush (or similar concealment), Teemo can enter and maintain his Invisibility while moving. After leaving invisibility, Teemo gains the element of surprise, increasing the speed of his attacks for a brief period.

Strengths: (Things your character's always good at, or always can do; essentially, passive abilities or bonuses. You start with three, but you can add more in place of powers when you level up)

• Stealth - a combination of his size, his training, experience, and yordlish magic has him very hard to spot even when he isn't outright invisible.
• Swiftness - His legs might be small, but Teemo's feet let him easily scurry away at a speed most would find unachievable.
• Manual of Arms - he is an expert with many traditional weapons, but in particular he excels at weaponizing his blowpipe (which double as a flute, whistle, and staff), and the great reserve of mushrooms he carries.

Weaknesses:

• TINY - Teemo's size ensures that he is nowhere near as strong nor as durable as an adult human being.

Spirits:

Guest List: (Put up to three characters you like or want to see, and you'll run into them sooner or later in the RP. There's no restriction on what characters you put in, other than the same ones that apply to PCs)
Inventory:
Blowpipe - this is a weapon, but also an instrument if needed!
Telescope - Finest Yordle craftsmanship!
Helmet - rather thin and worn, it won't protect from much but is also rather light and protects Teemo with its size almost like an umbrella. Also has protective goggles.
Darts - shot from the blowpipe, can be thrown in a pinch.
Backpack - for carrying things.

World of Light

Teemo!

Location: Dripstone Cave / Old Memories (flashback)
Words Written: 894
XP Gained: 2
Mentions: Kamek and the Koopa Troop @DracoLunaris
Powers Used: Guerilla Warfare

The little yordle couldn’t quite remember what had lead him to lying down here.

There he was, Darius. Walking right up the top lane of the Summoner’s Rift, flourishing his axe this way and that. But he thought Teemo had returned to the shop. He had a whole ‘nother thing coming as Teemo raised his blowpipe, the armour-clad warrior in the Scout’s crosshairs.

Wait, no. That happened before.

Those Darkin had no business being so close to Bandle-City, but that would be fixed really quick.The little soldier giggled the slightest bit as one of them stepped on a puff-cap mushroom, the fungus exploding horribly to send them airborne. Carefully Teemo reached down to his pouch, and selected a blinding dart in lieu of the standard poison tips. That guy who thought he was so badass wouldn’t be able to swing his sword if he couldn’t see a thing.

Hold on, not that either. Oh, this was it. Strolling through this strange new cave, the realization that Teemo had no rations got him thinking that he ought forage for supplies while he was here. A little drink was collected in his waterskin, and what he thought to be one of thousands of species of fungus that he knew so well was picked up for a light snack. Reckoning it was better to carry it in his belly than in his bag, he placed the morsel in his mouth and chomped down with furry cheeks puffing amidst the effort to masticate. As the juices ran out into his mouth, he realized that this was no mushroom he had ever encountered before. Though he spat it out, it was far too late for the toxins had already made contact with the flesh of his mouth and began running down into his digestive systems. As he dropped down, he made sure to land on the helmeted part of his head and fall in such a way he would neither suffocate nor choke on saliva. As he contemplated the strange new environment he found himself in, Teemo began to slide into a slow delirium.

Rather abruptly he was awakened, darkness all around him. He could of course see that he was in the dark, and he could make out that he was in a cave. What exactly brought him to consciousness? Well, he could see something out there. A guy not much bigger than himself wielding magic, a turtle of somesort? His buddies weren’t too different from him. But, whatever those turtle guys were, it seemed that at least for the moment their causes were similar to that of Teemo. Namely, they were concerned with not being consumed by the bugs floating about this cave, as was Teemo. Who exactly they were could be figured out later, and if necessary dealt with. But just as in the summoner’s rift, now was the time to make peace with any who would stand together against his enemy.

Now more or less completely lucid, Teemo began to run back away from the mosquitoes, feigning a full retreat as he hopped over a rock to hide his tiny body behind. He would stand completely still, his body melding with the shadows as he began his old practice of Guerilla Warfare.
Grabbing his blowpipe, he began to select a dart to fire at the mosquitoes, but was rather disappointed when he looked among his belongings. He lacked any poisoned and blinding ones, and it was thus that he would have to make do with the many he had that lacked any sort of coating for further potency. Slotting it into the blowpipe after having made sure he had properly made use of the cover to obscure himself in entirety for a few seconds, it was time to act.

Hopping out from the side, Teemo would unleash a quick salvo of several darts at the closest mosquitoes to him while he still had an element of surprise.

Then he would begin what some referred to as kiting. He would take a few steps back while reloading his blowpipe, fire it, and then keep moving and reloading in a repeat of this cycle.

All this time Teemo would seek to communicate with his team. Oddly, he was unable to ping them any of the usual things he would when fighting with such strange allies as he could in the summoner’s rift. That’s why he had to go with the simple alternative of shouting across the cave to them.

“Keep the pressure on!” he shouted towards them, the little yordle’s speech bearing the high pitch and soft but almost squealing timbre that the words of a very young boy would. However, they also had a volume, power, and delivery to them that implied this was certainly no adolescent.

“I’ll keep a few coming at me, if we split their attention we can pick them off one by one!” he continued, announcing the very simple strategy against the bugs that he hoped would nonetheless be effective given the stupidity that wilds insects had even when being of this magnitude.

There was of course the concern that these were some sort of magical bugs, but then he would simply have to adapt as any true Scout would. Thankfully, it seemed his unexpected comrades were just as acquainted with violence as he was.

World of Light

Post effectively done will be up tmrw

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

GREATER DALARAN

Antonidas hummed happily to himself as he rode along, punctuating the silence left by the brooding Elven Prince riding alongside him.

Eventually however, Kael’Thas did speak. “Truly, Antonidas. This is the third time you have demanded I have come with you on these… excursions, and I still see no value in them.”

The Archmage guffawed at the Prince’s words, shaking his head. “Well, first of all be fair to me dearest Kael’Thas. I never demanded it of you. I simply thought it would help you attain… enlightenment. Or perhaps even peace that has been evading your troubled mind. I would think the fruits of our labour would put a smile on your face.”

“If I said I am not a child in need of being cheered up, would you consider that childish?”

“No, but whimsical nonetheless. Do you really not feel… satisfaction, seeing what we have done?”

“Forgive the impoliteness for a reply with my own question, but do you?”

Antonidas paused for a long and hard moment to ponder his reply, before slowly and cautiously stating “No, I do not. But - and I mean this with all due respect to you - the bigger picture is not visible to you. I know exactly how much more work must yet be done. I know exactly how close we are to failure, to total collapse at any moment. I know how many in the world wish to see us fail, and what the consequences will be if we do. None of this weighed on my mind half a decade ago, and my mind simply hasn’t had the time to acclimate to this new world of Dalaran.” The Mage paused, scratching the bridge of his nose with his staff disguised as a simple walking stick. Another sigh preceded the continuation of his monologue. “Maybe bringing you along is a waste of time. But I think the fact you have not declined a single time means that, deep down, you see that value in witnessing how the people we have come to safeguard live. If you will forgive a little speculation, perhaps you are trying to right wrongs that infuriated your father?”

Kael gave Antonidas a glare to not push the subject, prompting the old man to hunch down faintly. “My apologies, Kael. I shan’t speak of it again.”

Seeing the old man’s remorse for his words the Prince himself softened, now himself regretting the furious but unspoken words exchanged. “I am lost. Everything I have done I have believed was for the best. You have helped me assure myself of that. But what am I to think when in the fulfillment of my sworn duties I lose my birthright? Don’t reply if you have nothing new to say. We’ve already discussed this to death.”

“Yes, we have. But I’ll tell you what!” the old wizard began, his aged fingers now scrabbling impotently at the top of an orange he was failing to peel.

“Let me help you.” Kael began, seeing Antonidas struggle, his own fingers starting to frame the necessary glyphs to peel the fruit from afar. Just as quickly Antonidas waved a hand to exert small waves of force on the Elf’s hands to painlessly but decisively push them away from casting his spell. “I can peel my own damn orange, I need no magic!” The Archmage declared, heavy breaths following the outcry. “Hmmm. Apologies once more, dear boy.” the pre-centenarian apparently seeing no irony in using such a misnomer for a man thousands of years old. “But, I will clue you into something that few in Dalaran save myself know. In fact, I believe nobody save myself for the moment. There will be a conference of sorts in the coming days. The leaders of all nations present or former of the alliance, including your father. As part of my attaches, Councillor Kael’Thas would fit in very well.”

Before the disgraced Prince could reply, a thrown axe knocked the orange that Antonidas had at last succeeded in starting to peel right out of his hands. Another one struck the wizard, but bounced off of the mana shield upon him.

The duo looked to the right upon a mass of trolls, somewhat confused at their failure to split the old man in two. Sharing an annoyed look, the duo dismounted and approached the trolls with their arms upraised.

---

plup-plup-plup… plup-plup-plup

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

“Its a damn shame about that last manastone grind. Really thought you had the right fineness.”

“Yup. Thought I could at least try get it to work like gunpowder but… well, lets not dwell on the bad eh?”

“Damn right.”

plup-plup-plup… plup-plup-plup

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

“So what was that chat with the wizards they summoned you for.”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Nothing? Nothing? A member of the damn council summoned you my dear Barad!”

The Dwarf sighed, retrieving a scroll from a pocket and unfurling it on the table between him and the gnome. “Here, take a look. Wanted me to stick cannons on golems. Said they just wanted me to get the drawn parts done, they’d animate the rest with magic.”

After a silence in which the gnome looked over the drawings, he began to scratch his sideburns thoughtfully as he mumbled to himself. “Its creative, certainly.”

“Right, it is. But I don’t want to do it. Knew you would like the idea though. That’s why I told them you would be better to talk to about it. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Well, I suppose not. If the wizards finally admit they need me, that’s a very damn good start for me getting something real done.”

plup-plup-plup… plup-plup-plup

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

“So, what about your previous contracts with the Kirin Tor?”

“Oh, well, you know. I made the tractors exactly as they asked. Trouble is though, they’re too complex for the peasants what need ‘em. Did you know that the vast majority of humans can’t even read or write in their own damn language? We never saw it in Gnomeregan, Ironforge, or even here in Dalaran. All the humans we met were fancy travelers, mages, diplomats, whatever. But most humans what live in villages and the like? I’m told some of them aren’t even damn numerate. I didn’t believe it, but one village I rode out to had everyone save the blacksmith and mayor give their age in a multiple of five.”

“Gosh.”

“Right? I told the wizards they should do something about it. They said they tried. Uhm, trying. Right. Sending someone to every village to try teach kids to read and write in the day, adults in the evening. Trouble is nobody wants to attend. They’ve lived whole lives for generations without needing to know what a letter is, in both senses of the word.

“What can they do then?”

“They’re trying lots of things. One story’s quite funny. They tried paying peasants to attend, hoping it’d pay off when they would thus work more efficiently. Trouble is everybody and their bedridden granny started attending, while not even caring to actually learn. Cash is cash, and the wizards realized they couldn’t afford subsidizing something that wasn’t going to lead to anything anyway.”

“Damn tragic. Anything else?”

“Oh yeah, for once their stubbornness and arrogance will lead to something good, they’re not giving up. For now they’re reducing taxes on everything the wizards provide if one attends their schools. Medicine and the like, they don’t got to pay for it anymore. It’s not enough to get everyone on board, but the wizards reckon it’ll pay for itself. They’re also restricting positions like mayor behind being able to write more than your name, and they’re not giving my tractors to any farms where the head of the household can’t prove they can read the manuals of operation. They’re just newfangled toys to a lot of the countryside for now, but I reckon by the next agricultural cycle any farmer that has one will be jealous of any that doesn’t. Same as loggers with axes being jealous of them that has goblin buzzsaws.”

plup-plup-plup… plup-plup-plup

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

“Just a damn shame really. I think I’ve been breaking down manastones for a decade now, but the only thing I’ve been able to really get done with them is make a damn great glue for magical bits. I know I can get it to work like coal, or gunpowder. I know I can. But I’m just damn missing something when I make the grains.”

The Dwarf looked at Nillio and his wistful speech, then at his glass of ale. He squinted hard at it, reaching for a washrag to use as paper and an inkwell spilled on the ground hours ago. “Hold on, hold on. Bear with me. Got an idea for you. Just need to figure out a way to put it in words. Before I’m too damn drunk. Liquid. Liquid! remember this word even if we black out everything else we say tonight.”

---

Vanndar looked between the map on his table and upon the city of Alterac just slightly visible across the mist and snow. His eyes shifting almost every other moment, the Dwarf reached into his belt for binoculars every few cycles of his gaze and would take a brief look upon the city before putting it back and resuming his darting view.

Alterac was so close, yet so far. Every day a new warband of the syndicate, or of the ogres, or of the frostwolves would be eliminated following a successful search and destroy operation. But every time this would only allow the combined army of the Stormpikes and Dalaranian Army to advance single digits of kilometres. At this rate, it would be years before they took the city. Yet, it was only a day’s ride away from the camp if a straight path was taken. But, with the amount of foot-troops between the assembled forces, this would devolve to several days. In those days the raids, ambushes, and pricks and prods of the more nimble enemies of man, dwarf and elf would leave it a shell of itself by the time the city was arrived at. Something had to be done if the city was to be retaken in something resembling a timely manner, and for the moment he had no idea what. The Wizards were saying they were working on some new weapons to help the war, but he somehow doubted they’d be the solution to all his problems. It was cold steel and struggle of individuals that won battles, not wonder weapons. Yet, with that said, he damn well wouldn’t mind a steam engine or twelve to be mobile hardpoints for the hypothetical convoy that would march right towards the city. Trouble was, he didn’t have any.

Licking his lips, he decided to reach down for a piece of vellum to begin writing in the runic script of the Dwarves in. The excavation teams had already dug up well enough artifacts that had already been studied to sell home for a pretty penny to prove that the venture into Alterac was profitable. Hopefully, this would be enough to convince creditors in Ironforge that he could repay them for the loans he’d need to commission ten siege engines.

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

Great Dalaran

Name: Dalaran

Held Territories: Most importantly the city of Dalaran itself. However with recent times it has acquired a significant territory that was once the Kingdom of Lordaeron and Alterac, as well as a smaller acquisition of what the Gilneans had abandoned outside of their great wall. Currently, their geopolitical goal is a combined offensive with the Stormpike Dwarves and allied Paladin Orders to retake Strahnbrad.

Other Assets: In all of the human, dwarven, and gnomish realms that would accept them, the Dalarani have subsidized magical academies both as exertions of soft powers, but also as genuine efforts to push back against the blows the have been struck to the good people of the Eastern Kingdoms.

Goals and Motivations: Dalaran’s enlightened despot has pushed it towards a somewhat idealist, but nonetheless utilitarian path. The City-State has evolved into something resembling a true nation, and indeed with the many cultures it has come to represent it is arguably now an Empire. Dalaran seeks to strengthen the alliance, yet this is simply a means to an end of fighting the scourge, the fel, and other evils of the world. It thus will not hesitate to stand its ground in disputes with the rest of the alliance. Dalaran is also highly motivated by its inquisitive ideology, their love of learning leading them to pursue relations as good as possible with the High Elves of Quel’Thalas.

Recent History: It seemed that with every passing day of having turned away the strange Prophet, Antonidas had found that the man’s portents were true. While he stared into his scrying orb to witness the battle for Lordaeron and then Quel’Thalas, he decided it was time to act. While he wasn’t going to go gallivanting into the West, he certainly knew that if Dalaran was to sit on its arse waiting for the world to pass them by then they would be crushed just as the Elves almost were.

Seeing the exodus of refugees from Quel’Thalas and the collapsed Kingdom of Lordaeron Antonidas opened the gates of the Violet City for the first time in many years to outsiders. Quickly however, the old man realized just out of touch he was from the outside world when the city was full and a young clerk announced that not even a tenth of the fleeing people had been accommodated. In truth, he was lucky that several sizeable columns of fleeing folk had gone to Stromgarde, rather than try their chances with Dalaran.

After realizing Dalaran in its couldn’t state couldn’t cope with the demand of shelter, food, and other basic needs of the arrivals, Antonidas had sent his emissaries to the great many villages of the now defunct Lordaeron crown that surrounded him. Yet again a shock came to the wizards, for they had arrived hoping to request grain from people they assumed were getting along just fine, but instead found that with the troops of the defunct Lordaeron having been exhausted fighting the scourge the settlements were undefended, prey to freely raid for bandits, trolls, and indeed the further spread of the scourge.

It was thus that the wizardry was effectively forced to take stewardship of these regions, protecting them and the roads between with their arcane might to ensure that grain might yet again come to the mouths that needed it. Yet this process of ferrying food to the great tent cities outside Dalaran could only go for so long, and thus the wizards had to tell the people that they had to either move to the former Lordaeron villages or establish wholly new settlements. Yet they hardly had the infrastructure to help the people through this hard process. This was made yet more difficult as before they could do this they had to establish complex filtration of the refugees to ensure there were no cultists of the damned hidden among them.

It was at this point that Antonidas made his next most controversial decision: to invite the Church of the Light to Dalaran. Though there was great outcry once this was done, he saw little other choice. With the arrival of Priests and Paladins to the city’s doorstep, the guard wasn’t eager to let them inside. But nonetheless they had to such that support and checks for lack of corruption of the refugees could properly be facilitated.

While many raged at what they considered Antonidas squandering the precious resources of Dalaran, a multitude of voices were also quite content with the new authority that the Magocracy exercised on the continent.

Yet, with every settlement that Dalaran took under its purview, it found that it was being assailed from its outskirts forcing the Dalarani mages to spread themselves further and further out. A cycle began where a new village would be claimed under the violet flag, only for it to be attacked from a new frontier that had to be pacified until it too became a controlled territory under threat.

This lead to the mages eventually having to protect and lend their magic to the civilian affairs of a growing territory, with settlements that Gilneas had left behind outside their walls along with disparate humans unaffiliated with the syndicate in Alterac asking for the Violet City’s patronage on top of the initial Lordaeronian acquisitions.

The process of this expansion however began to slow very quickly as Dalaran quite simply began to reach the limit of “spare” wizards that it could use to protect settlements as well as aid their prosperity with magics and their generalized knowledge.

Antonidas was at a crossroads on how to resolve the problem of his overnight Empire being so quickly overstretched. It was struggling with the actual resources to maintain and grow it, not to speak of the logistical, infrastructural, and (at least to the city of Dalaran itself) most importantly bureaucratic strain that was most certainly not catching up. He decided to simply fix the matter by outsourcing the responsibilities that were too difficult for the Magocracy to maintain. The Church of the Light would help maintain the hospices that were occupying precious time and mana of wizards, while the now encountered Dwarves of the Stormpikes were glad to help defend the human settlers of Alterac. Mercenaries were hired, and gradually settlements were asked to form their own Home Guards to at least partially supplement the work of mages defending them. Most upsetting to some within the Violet City were deals made with the many different Orders of the Church of the Light to have them patrol the lands to defend them and keep cultists of the damned afeared. While the geopolitical success of Dalaran has brought great pride to many of the Magocracy, it also brings sideways glances from the Gilneans, Lordaeronians and even Stromgardians as claims recent for the former or ancient for the latter become disputed with settlements coming under the domain of the wizards.

At the same time, Dalaran was very active in expanding its soft power. The capacity of free mages was further strained as many were sent abroad to help establish Dalarani magical academies of magic in any nation of the present or former alliance that would accept them. Going as far as Theramore, they further went to attempt to assist the nations in what ways they could such as joining troll-hunts or helping purge the scourge. Particular efforts have been made to attempt to strengthen relations with Quel’Thalas with joint research projects and other symbols of unity being pushed to try and if not restore Quel’Thalas to the Alliance, at least make it have a direct pact with Dalaran.

With Dalaran having spread its tendrils far and wide, it is certainly the time to look inside for Dalaran as a great many internal issues plague it. The tensions between “greater Dalaran” and the city itself grow ever greater. It is ill-defined exactly what autonomies the territories outside of the city have, with the people of the Violet City becoming ever frustrated at what they perceive as Antonidas preferring foreigners over his own subjects. Religious conflict is spread as the largely apathetic people of Dalaran city look outside at worshippers of the light that divide themselves among how exactly they worship the light be they zealots prostrating themselves at the sight of Scarlet Crusaders, the caressing speech of the elf Arantir, or the Argent Dawn that represent something along the lines of the old code of the Silver Hand. Racial conflict similarly stirs as the human peasantry outside of the city looks with suspicion on the elves, dwarves, and gnomes that the city sports along with the novel introduction of the grand population of half-breeds therein. Though Antonidas promises the best is yet to be seen and his guiding hand has not failed Dalaran thus far, many are concerned that his aging mind and dire experiences are gradually clouding his judgement.

Key Players:
The most important person in all of Dalaran is the Archmage Antonidas, head of the Kirin Tor and member of the Council of Six, he is the de facto if not de jure enlightened despot of Dalaran. Yet, entering his seventy-fifth year he has much on his mind for securing the future of Dalaran should he not wake the following day. He has become a dour man after many of his realizations about the world beyond his idyllic city, being far more reclusive than in the past. People can no longer freely visit him, having to make appointments instead. Yet, he has also decided to now spend hours each day to learn about the state of the realm by personally riding out to witness it.

Though having long since left the city, Jaina Proudmoore is an alumnus of Dalaran, and can be considered a member of its greater reach even if most certainly not taking any orders from Antonidas.

Kael’Thas Sunstrider, a member of council of six is also a particularly important figure in Dalaran. While his nature as the son of the Elven King makes him a point of questioned loyalty, it is similarly seen as a useful inroad into good relations with Quel’Thalas and influencing their policy.

Khadgar - one of the noblest sons of Dalaran, great and well known are his exploits. Though for many years he was lost, the opening of the portal now means he may once more grace the Violet City.

Rhonin is a prodigal mage, and one of the Council of the Six. He is seen as the one most likely to replace Antonidas in the event Modera should not be selected for one or the other reason. He is somewhat of a parallel to Ansirem Runeweaver, being far more cosmopolitan yet also stable in his wizarding.

Modera has held her position longer than any member of the council save Antonidas, and by pure seniority would certainly seem to be next in line to be the de facto ruler of the state should he perish.

Ansirem Runeweaver is a member of the council of six, and while an impressive and notably creative archmage he is also known for more crude attitudes to non-humans, expressing great skepticism to the mercy Turalyon had given the orcs. Further he has shown the least enthusiasm towards Antonidas’s push to brotherhood with Quel’Thalas

Vanndar Stormpike is not a Dalaranian and damn well doesn’t take orders from them, but with the recent patronage of Dalaran for the Stormpikes in Alterac he speaks with representatives of the Magocracy almost daily. It is by agreements with him that Dwarves instruct forging of powder weapons for the growing militias of Dalaran and drill them in their use whilst Dalarani mages help him crush the orcs, trolls, ogres, and renegade men that are in the land. But perhaps most valued is simply the contribution of the wizards in facilitating the shipments of foods from the Lordaeron refugees settling in Alterac ruins, as well as their knowledge assisting in the excavations of the Stormpikes. He is also a critical link between Dalaran and Ironforge, his good word allowing many contracts on good conditions to be negotiated between the Mages and the realm of the Dwarves.

Arellas Fireleaf is a liaison between Dalaran and the Scarlet Crusade. A devoted zealot of the Light, he has nonetheless impressed much of Dalaran with his arcane knowledge and abilities, and is perhaps the sole reason that the Magocracy has been convinced that perhaps the Scarlet Crusade has redeeming qualities and may operate on its territory.

==OC==

Arantir Skellen has come to be an unofficial voice of the High Elven refugees that have settled in number within now Dalarani territory. He is unfortunately a great point of contention and headache for the Council of Six. He is a zealot of the Church of the Light, and the cold attitude of many mages within Dalaran to the Church understandably cause tensions when a firebrand as such runs amok. But, worse yet is that having mostly lead the Elves that were stuck outside of the Elfgate, a feeling of abandonment has resonated in his rhetoric that eventually lead him and many of the people that look up to the man to no longer recognize the authority of the Sunstrider dynasty. To the Magocracy which is trying to be on as good terms as possible with Quel’Thalas, harbouring such malcontents raises a problem. He has also come to be quite popular with many human refugees settling in Dalaran as well, and indeed his ability with magic as a seemingly self-taught mage has even impressed many a wizard. While for now a mere thorn in the side of the Kirin Tor, there is a concern his populism will one day genuinely challenge their rule of their extended realm outside of the city of Dalaran itself. For now, the wizards try to stifle his growing popularity among the new and old citizenry alike by spreading the knowledge that supposedly he was never actually ordained into the Church as a Priest, and is most certainly speaking without any authority as mere laity. He will typically be seen alongside his brother Alaestas.

Nilio is a gnome that fled his adopted home of Ironforge after an accident in his laboratory that made him a wanted man. He has found a home in Dalaran for his work, namely the attempt to synthesize magic with machinery. Grinding manastones as fuel, his experiments were a means for him to take the easy way out after running into issues with his scholarly studies as a natural born mage. Some particularly reactionary wizards however have taken negatively to his presence seeing the reduction of magic to a science being a perversion of their art.Though his services are appreciated, he is somewhat problematic as a remaining nuisance to the Dwarves and to a lesser extent gnomeregan left unpunished.

Barad is a Dwarf that was a close friend of Nilio who attempted to safeguard the gnome by taking the blame for the explosion. However, when he found out the penalty for the explosion would be many years of imprisonment his bravery shattered and thus he fled together with the gnome. An engineer by trade, he was extensively helping Nilio while also looking into his own works. Namely, he was interested in making machinery for the civilian sector such as agricultural equipment, growing frustrated with the rest of Ironforge’s tinkerers focusing almost entirely on military matters with the technology of peace being a mere footnote in their mental libraries. Much like Nilio the magocracy has valued his farming machinery and other contraptions, but Ironforge still wants him in shackles which has forced Dalarani emissaries to work overtime in their efforts to maintain good relations.

On the Stormpikes
The Stormpikes are an extremely recent addition to the region. The expedition by Vanndar was almost a personal project of the Dwarf, the personal interest in unearthing precious artifacts to discover more of Dwarven history being a daring but well planned affair. The Dwarves arrived to Alterac experiencing many setbacks when first attempting to establish themselves, the combined Frostwolf Orcs, trolls, ogres, Syndicate, and Scourge elements all presenting their own respective problems. However, their difficulties were significantly reduced when wizards bearing Violet Banners arrived in the lands they were holding. After a long night of drinking with their representative, Vanndar found that he had arranged a very mutually beneficial partnership. The Dalarani and Stormpikes would pool their efforts to not only beat back the villainy that occupied the land, but properly secure it such that studies of archaeology could be performed and displaced people make their homes there.

Ultimately the relationship between Dalaran and the Stormpikes had little formal binding to it, but it also has had little reason to fray. Some do see the two come to a head in the future however, as some have concerns that the Stormpikes maybe have disputes with some of the more zealous, or alternatively bigoted members of the Scarlet Crusade that the Dalarani have largely let run free to be spared of expenses in men and resources that the Scarlet Crusaders take upon themselves. Further, Vanndar is finding himself rather annoyed as some Dwarves in his expedition slowly take to the spreading following of the populist worship of the light spread by the High Elf Skellen. As well, the harbouring of the Dwarf Barad and Gnome Nilio has made Vanndar hear complaints from his troops on more than one occasion.

Antonidas

Name: Antonidas

Faction: Dalaran

Rank/Role: Highest Archmage of all Dalaran

Appearance: Antonidas is an aged man, his flowing white beard looking like it would fit more in Ironforge than in Dalaran. His skin is somewhere between the sun-kissed peach tone many Dalarani find themselves bearing and the anemic paleness of elderly all across the Eastern Kingdoms. Surprisingly not suffering any natural hair loss, the man nonetheless has come to shave his scalp such that his wizarding skull-cap may fit more easily. Though hidden under mounds of wrinkles and facial hair, one can see the patrician nose and chin the wizard held. He has always been a man for dress that is practical rather than fancy, but being a wizard of his calibre has lead to the man inevitably achieving glamour in all his outfits with the sheer volume of crystals and rare earth minerals donning robes with runes of power covering all the eyes can see..

Personality: Antonidas is a changed man. In the past he was haughty, self-righteous, and boorish. However, despite this he was a good man at heart as most Dalarani wizards. He sought to use his great talents to ultimately better the world, even if his definition of a better Azeroth differed from that of many. Nonetheless, he showed himself capable of great mercy and the ability to see past prejudice when he was almost the sole figure to advocate there could be some sort of good within the Orcish race. He was always a chipper fellow, eager to chat with his students or to attend a feast with foreign dignitaries.

Nowadays that old enthusiasm is faded almost entirely. His encounters with the strange prophet followed by witnessing so much carnage and destruction had made the man pause and rethink all of his values prior. This was made much worse when he toured the lands that had pleaded for the protection of the Violet City’s wizards. He saw people trudging through muck and dying to mundane poxes, not to speak of being nigh helpless against the scourge, wild trolls, and whatever else lurked to prey on peasantry. The proverbial cherry on top was seeing the High Elves he had previously only encountered the nobility and warriors of, now displaying their own peasantry and suffering among the many refugees that had their homes outside the Elfgate ravaged.

With this he has fallen into a depression of sorts, no longer lecturing at the Academies or taking any apprentices. The Archmage finds his mind second guessing himself more and more, uncertain what the future may yield and how to prepare for it. Fear for Dalaran and the whole of Azeroth has him brood for most of his time, planning for eventualities in an almost paranoid fashion.

Biography: Having witnessed his preconceptions crumbling in the aftermath of his brief chat with Medivh, Antonidas decided that he needed Dalaran to act lest it be swallowed by the same darkness that nearly took over Quel'Thalas.

The Gates to the Violet City were thus opened by the Archmage, the masses of people fleeing from Quel’Thalas and Lordaeron free to enter. Yet Antonidas quickly found that his kindness was too little and too late, with the city unable to take them all in. His mind souring even further with this realization, he was still intent on doing right by the masses stuck outside of his city. Though he never expected or even wished to be put in such a role, he found himself having the great stress of having to go from managing a city-state to an Empire nearly overnight. As word spread of villages having been taken under the protection of the wizards such that they could feed the many thousands of displaced people, mayors from much of former Lordaeron reached out to plea to receive the same protection that their settlements were now bereft of with the death of Uther and King Terenas.

Though often he is congratulated for rising to the occasion, his smiles and responses of gratitude are often hollow. Even as stability in the material front and on the borders has been achieved to some degree, Antonidas now ponders the more political questions of Dalaran and the other Kingdoms with much concern. As he must balance the concerns of the new population of “Greater Dalaran”, his core constituents in the Violet City, and appeasing allies abroad he finds himself concerned that all the work of the last few years could collapse on itself. Further, as the years keep accumulating he finds that neither he nor the other leaders of Dalaran are finding themselves exactly sure who will succeed him a fact raising yet more concern when Antonidas doesn’t find himself trusting any of the present Kirin-Tor in entirety to keep the patronage of the people he took personal pity upon.

Powers and other Abilities: Antonidas is quite likely the most powerful wielder of magic that isn't a dragon, a claimant to Godhood, or the recipient of a God's donated power. While all these conditional statements do diminish the impressiveness of his power, he is nonetheless capable of doing with a waggle of his fingers and a few mystic incantations what many would need a great deal of firepower and time to achieve. Yet violence is far from his sole use of magic, for he has mastered all disciplines of it he could. He could teleport ranks and columns of people, while also saving lives from the brink of death with a touch. Though never practicing it, he has learned of necromancy and the fel, a fact he fears could be used against his own people should the Scourge get its rotting hands on his corpse.

Physically he is infirm owing to his advanced age, but he still keeps an excercise regimen as all wizards of Dalaran to be a spry old coot. However, far more important is that when needed he augments his physical abilities with his magic in the event that, for example, he finds need to run away from something and cannot teleport away.

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

Antonidas

Name: Antonidas

Faction: Dalaran

Rank/Role: Highest Archmage of all Dalaran

Appearance: Antonidas is an aged man, his flowing white beard looking like it would fit more in Ironforge than in Dalaran. His skin is somewhere between the sun-kissed peach tone many Dalarani find themselves bearing and the anemic paleness of elderly all across the Eastern Kingdoms. Surprisingly not suffering any natural hair loss, the man nonetheless has come to shave his scalp such that his wizarding skull-cap may fit more easily. Though hidden under mounds of wrinkles and facial hair, one can see the patrician nose and chin the wizard held. He has always been a man for dress that is practical rather than fancy, but being a wizard of his calibre has lead to the man inevitably achieving glamour in all his outfits with the sheer volume of crystals and rare earth minerals donning robes with runes of power covering all the eyes can see..

Personality: Antonidas is a changed man. In the past he was haughty, self-righteous, and boorish. However, despite this he was a good man at heart as most Dalarani wizards. He sought to use his great talents to ultimately better the world, even if his definition of a better Azeroth differed from that of many. Nonetheless, he showed himself capable of great mercy and the ability to see past prejudice when he was almost the sole figure to advocate there could be some sort of good within the Orcish race. He was always a chipper fellow, eager to chat with his students or to attend a feast with foreign dignitaries.

Nowadays that old enthusiasm is faded almost entirely. His encounters with the strange prophet followed by witnessing so much carnage and destruction had made the man pause and rethink all of his values prior. This was made much worse when he toured the lands that had pleaded for the protection of the Violet City’s wizards. He saw people trudging through muck and dying to mundane poxes, not to speak of being nigh helpless against the scourge, wild trolls, and whatever else lurked to prey on peasantry. The proverbial cherry on top was seeing the High Elves he had previously only encountered the nobility and warriors of, now displaying their own peasantry and suffering among the many refugees that had their homes outside the Elfgate ravaged.

With this he has fallen into a depression of sorts, no longer lecturing at the Academies or taking any apprentices. The Archmage finds his mind second guessing himself more and more, uncertain what the future may yield and how to prepare for it. Fear for Dalaran and the whole of Azeroth has him brood for most of his time, planning for eventualities in an almost paranoid fashion.

Biography: Having witnessed his preconceptions crumbling in the aftermath of his brief chat with Medivh, Antonidas decided that he needed Dalaran to act lest it be swallowed by the same darkness that nearly took over Quel'Thalas.

The Gates to the Violet City were thus opened by the Archmage, the masses of people fleeing from Quel’Thalas and Lordaeron free to enter. Yet Antonidas quickly found that his kindness was too little and too late, with the city unable to take them all in. His mind souring even further with this realization, he was still intent on doing right by the masses stuck outside of his city. Though he never expected or even wished to be put in such a role, he found himself having the great stress of having to go from managing a city-state to an Empire nearly overnight. As word spread of villages having been taken under the protection of the wizards such that they could feed the many thousands of displaced people, mayors from much of former Lordaeron reached out to plea to receive the same protection that their settlements were now bereft of with the death of Uther and King Terenas.

Though often he is congratulated for rising to the occasion, his smiles and responses of gratitude are often hollow. Even as stability in the material front and on the borders has been achieved to some degree, Antonidas now ponders the more political questions of Dalaran and the other Kingdoms with much concern. As he must balance the concerns of the new population of “Greater Dalaran”, his core constituents in the Violet City, and appeasing allies abroad he finds himself concerned that all the work of the last few years could collapse on itself. Further, as the years keep accumulating he finds that neither he nor the other leaders of Dalaran are finding themselves exactly sure who will succeed him a fact raising yet more concern when Antonidas doesn’t find himself trusting any of the present Kirin-Tor in entirety to keep the patronage of the people he took personal pity upon.

Powers and other Abilities: Antonidas is quite likely the most powerful wielder of magic that isn't a dragon, a claimant to Godhood, or the recipient of a God's donated power. While all these conditional statements do diminish the impressiveness of his power, he is nonetheless capable of doing with a waggle of his fingers and a few mystic incantations what many would need a great deal of firepower and time to achieve. Yet violence is far from his sole use of magic, for he has mastered all disciplines of it he could. He could teleport ranks and columns of people, while also saving lives from the brink of death with a touch. Though never practicing it, he has learned of necromancy and the fel, a fact he fears could be used against his own people should the Scourge get its rotting hands on his corpse.

Physically he is infirm owing to his advanced age, but he still keeps an excercise regimen as all wizards of Dalaran to be a spry old coot. However, far more important is that when needed he augments his physical abilities with his magic in the event that, for example, he finds need to run away from something and cannot teleport away.