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40812409 No. 40812409
#Open #Canon: Blood and Thunder #Adventure #Crossover #Dark #Violence #General #Semi-serious

Their home was torn by war. Three Generations knew nothing more than the sharp rapt of the kettledrums, the blare of trumpets, and the clash of steel.

For decades, humanity has fought the orcish tide, both races forming strong alliances with other likeminded friends and allies. All over their land, the races either pledged their loyalties to the Grand Alliance, or the Orcish Horde.

Both sides have fought long and hard. Now they stand, once again on the eve of another confrontation, on another foreign soil. They bring with them a war that did not belong to those that were native to this new soil. A war that has wrought the near devastation of countless lands and worlds in their wake.


"The hell kind of a name is 'Ponyville'?" The footman scratched at the side of his head, his elegant blue and brushed steel helm at the crook of his arm. Around him, various laborers of the Alliance busied themselves with cutting down trees and refitting lumber, setting down the foundations for a small garrison.

The battlemage looked at the sign, giving a frown as she mouthed the word quietly, trying to make sense of it. She shook her head, giving an exacerbated sigh. "I don't know, maybe they're famous for horses here or something. All I know is, it says it's 5 miles up the road."

"Anything to get out of this Light forsaken forest. Those damned lilies got a lot of the troops sick. Did the alchemists and herbalists find any use for them?" A grizzled old paladin stepped forth, looking at the pair. Behind him, several footmen struggled to raise the royal blue and gold lion head standard of the Alliance, shouts and cheers heard.

The mage shook her head with a frown. "Nothing as of yet, sir. We did find an odd arcane presence within the plant, perhaps we could use it. As a matter of fact, this whole land has an odd sense of the arcane about it."

"I dun like it..." The dwarf spat at the ground, leaning upon his rifle's butt like a staff. "T'aint sittin' roight... somethin's amiss."

The paladin sighed, taking out a notepad and scribbled down orders. "Either way, there's no Horde presence we can see, so that's a bonus." He looked at the group. "Right, I need you three to come with me, we'll be heading up the road towards that town. Rythelia, I need you to be our interpreter if we need it. If they can't speak Common, I don't want to be waving my hands around like an idiot trying to make them understand. You got the arcane knowledge, use it. And if you see any red tabards or banners..."

"Cut 'em down 'fer they do it ta us?"

"Yup. Alright, grab your kits, we're moving out. For the Alliance."

"For Kaz Modan."

"Stow it, Hammerfall. We're all here for this."
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>> No. 40812438
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"Forward you dogs! As you whimper and whine here about your feet, the humans strike deeper footholds. Into the portal!" cries the savage and dark green giant that stands over a veritable sea of red and iron-grey. Tower shields rattle and footsteps beat in unison with gargantuan, kodohide drums as formation after formation marches from the cleared assembly area in Ashenvale. The square formations grunt and chant, the Orc warriors of the Horde lead the way through the stone portal powered buy a field of captured moonwells.

The Orc Chieftan cracks his whip again, it snapping sharply in the air over the curved helms of his Grunts, their cheekplates rattling as they filed into the titanic archway of scorched stone and twisting aether.

Such was the 'discpline' of the Commander of the Hellscream Legion, Tromos Goretear. As his troops moved onward into the vortex of storming arcane magics, swallowed by the tunnel through the nether, the orc charged up the steps to the portal, his worg heaving and panting as it pulled his and its armours weight up to the very top. Swinging a mailed fist to his chest with a dull thud, the Orc screams and calls out to his men.

"Kill for the Horde! Remember how your fathers were enslaved and imprisoned by the humans! Leave the foe nothing!" roars the orc, thrusting his fist into the air, it clenching to jagged and menacing looking war-axe. An inspired and bloodthirsty cheer rolls from the front of the army to the back, his troops eager for the coming bloodshed. Moments after his encouraging words, Goretear charges headlong into the portal and to whatever battlefield awaits.


Well on the other side of the mortal realms, a quiet and diminutive planet recieves its unexpected and what its inhabitants will soon find out to be, unwanted guests. The Orc grunts advance through the dense marshy woods, cutting through the fog as much as they are through the foliage. Their presence is by no means hidden, the vangaurd forces having thundered out of the twisting pool of magic that is suspended in the throne room of a long abandoned and crumbled Keep.

Captured slaves of all races toil alongside the orc peons, sawing through the wet trees of the marsh as they build up on the once mighty walls once more.

"Gah! My axe has tasted more fog than it has blood." complains one orc, his weapon sharp and unsullied as he hacks through another thick shrubbery.

"Hold your eagerness, boy. If one thing I've learned in my many years of war is this: The best fights come to you." speaks up a far elder looking orc, his body faded and wrinkled, clear that it has taken the brunt of age as it has battle. Scars too of all shapes and sizes peek out from under his battered armour, a testament to his own history.

"Bah, old man. You've just gotten too feeble to seek out an adversary." replies the younger orc with a smug grin, hefting his weapon onto the broad and banded pauldron covering his shoulder. Though, as quick as he was to smile a gloved hand slices through the fog to slap the warrior across the teeth.

"You'd do well to respect your senior. Too many a strong orc has been killed too early with thinking like that. If you really want to see the best fights, you'd learn a measure of judgement, Krukk'ahg.

The orc just grumbles as he holds his jaw, his eyes focusing ahead of him as he marches with the line.

A high flying streak of blue rockets through the clouds, moving like a comet above the Alliance soldiers. It circles overhead in a wide loop before coming around to soar back, in the direction of that curiously named town...
>> No. 40812473
Everyone paused, staring upwards at the streak as it vanished, heading back towards town. The footmen ran to the hastily set up defenses, Dwarven mountaineers training their rifles on the streak, fingers steady on their triggers. The paladin frowned, looking at the object vanish.

"... they know we're here. Who they are, exactly, I'm not sure. But they know. Alright, double up on the defensive, get those walls built as quickly as you can! Have the gnomish engineers work round the clock on getting those damned flying machines off the ground, and get those tanks operational! If the damned Kirin Tor decide to show up, tell them we take orders from King Wrynn, not Lady Proudmoore! You three, with me, forget the kits, we're moving to that town!"

The Paladin, footman, battlemage, and mountaineer took off running down the road, weapons drawn and at the ready to fight. Two by two, they ran along the outside of the road, keeping to the underbrush and under the overgrowth, the path growing wider and more uniform as they began to see the dense forest lessen, the bright sun beginning to pierce through the overgrowth. The town was getting closer with each rapid step, their armor clattering and ringing in the air as they hurried along from the East.
>> No. 40812489
Lazily and with a smile, a pink furred and yellow haired pony trots along the side of the dirt road, picking various brightly colored flowers and dropping it into her wicker basket.

"The breeze is cool and the sun is warm this morning. I'm so glad winters left." the mare hums to herself, gleeful with the day.

That is until a mess of clanking and a trio of odd looking figures run towards her. They look furless and seem to have the strangest looking hides or skin on them. Terrified at these two legged things running at full speed down the road, she dips off to the side and crouches low in the ditch, hoping she would not be seen.

"Blademaster!"shouts one of the orc scouts, running up the gently rolling hill where a small camp had been established. A Tauren sits cross legged, a line of totems softly glowing before him as he sat in quiet contemplation.

A Troll Headhunter squats, chewing on a piece of dried meat as he scans the soft and brightly coloured fields that surround them and divide the terrain from the sinister looking forest they had came from.

"What is it,Vraag'grok?" he sharply asks, his hand resting on the pommel of his two handed sword.

"And keep quiet! You'll alert the entire Alliance army to us." he quietly scolds, a hand thrusting forward to grasp onto the collar of the lamellar armour that clad his chest.

"There is something wrong with our compasses, Blademaster." explains the orc, brushing himself off as the Blademaster released him. The orc, slinging his bow over his back, presents a rough looking compass to the orc warrior. The needle spins erratically, as if following some magnet which orbits unseen around the tool.

"Hrrrmm. Most peculiar. Magic perhaps?" ponders the orc as he motions for the orc to put the item away.

"Something about this earth is strange. Not too unlike our home, but far more...." the lumbering bovine pausing for a moment as he lifts his immense form up to his hooves.

"Potent? It is healthy and clean, for a lack of adequate words."

"We are not here for a nature walk, Shaman. The Cenarion Circle has enough tree lovers if that's for your liking." says the Blademaster, unsubtle with his mocking of the Tauren medicine man.

"Also, Blademaster, we had found a large settlement outside of these hills. There are roads and signs which point to it."

"And what did the signs say?" the Blademaster's attention caught as he snaps around to look at the scout.

"I am not sure. I think in orcish it translated to hoofbeast village. I am poor with human tongue. Still, we did catch a glimpse of its housings. Looks like human walls and huts." continues the scout, pulling a rudimentary drawing on hide skin.

"The Alliance?! This soon? Damn them. Goretear will have my head if he finds out they have beaten us here. Head back to the camp and gather all of the warg raiders. We will raze this village and claim our first victory for the Horde! With me!" shouts the Blademaster, sprinting down the hill as he rallies his grunts to follow.

Picking at his tusk, the Headhunter too stands and jogs off to follow the Orcs. "Seems more like for him den da horde, mon. But whatevers. A kills a kill."

Sighing, the hefty Tauren moves as fast as his heavy legs will take him, trailing behind the small group as they run towards the quiet crossroad town of Ponyville.
>> No. 40812577
"What the hell was that?!"

"No time, keep running!"

"M'lord, if it was one of the natives, we can surel-"

"Alright, fine! You and the Mountaineer veer off and talk to them! I'll move on ahead, see if there's a mayor in there! Move!"

The mage and the rifleman broke off, slowing to a stop to look over the field to see where they last saw the creature, the Paladin skidding to a stop, his hands glowing brilliantly with powers of the Light as he thrust them forward in front of him.

A blinding flash arose in the middle of the road, the neighing and rearing form of the war charger seen as it stamped down onto the road, the Paladin clambering onto the steed, galloping forward towards town.
>> No. 40813123
As for the pony, it has taken to covering itself with the flowers it picked, it shivering at the bottom of the ditch in the tallest grass it could find. With hooves covering its eyes it lays there, hoping to not be spotted by the hideous monsters that stalked the road.

As for the others....

On the western, and opposite side of the town, the scouting group of Horde sprinted across the dusty road, a thin cloud of dirt trailing them in their haste. At the head of this pack was the orc Blademaster, determined to stop whatever Alliance weaklings he thought lived here.

"Hah, already building happy little villages? Weak humans. Not a mind for war at all!" he derides loudly between breaths, paying no mind at all to the colorful inhabitants which screech in fear and run in terror.

A cart laden witih apples is the first victim of this conflict, the bulky form of the towering ork smashing through it like it were reeds. The rest of his troops too follow, with the Tauren trailing in the back. They stride quickly though the town, soon reaching at its centre. The Blademaster stops, his blade drawn and held out to his side.

"Alliance worms! Show yourselves! I will burn every hut here and every clan in it if I must!" screams the Orc, his muscles flexing as he throws his whole body into his shouting, a bloodrage already close to a boil.
>> No. 40813298
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The gnome and the dwarf continued their search, the tiny mage frowning with a huff as she hopped occasionally to look over the tall underbrush. The dwarf shuffled on through, spitting on the ground again.

"Whatever or whoever tha' was, long gone now, lass. C'mon, we got tae rejoin the Captain...."

"Ooooh steam gaskets! I was SURE I saw someone come in here!"

"Lass, ye can barely look o'er th' brush."

"Hey! I thought we promised no height jokes!"

The Paladin heard the challenge, the unmistakable growl of the orcish laced common in the air as he stopped his steed near the center of town, seeing the trio of Horde beings before him. He took his helmet, slamming it over his head, the visor shutting over his face. His hand gripped the handle of the one handed warhammer at his side, the elegant shield upon his back soon finding its place upon his arm. He eased the horse onwards towards the group, muttering a prayer to himself.

"Leave it to the savages of the Horde to loot and pillage first, have honor later! I'm here now, you fel tainted scum! If you've any real bravery in that barbarian mind of yours, you'd fight with one that could defend themselves instead of these creatures!"

The hammer swung outward, the ground around him suddenly illuminating brilliantly as he slid off his steed, the pummel pointed towards the group of raiders. "Come, orc! Let us finish what was started so long ago in the Swamp of Sorrows!"

He held tight to the reins, the armor clad figure shining brilliantly upon the massive white armored steed.
>> No. 40813520
"Done hiding behind the weak bodies of your women?" the orc guffawed, taunting the noble Paladin as he swung around his two handed sword and planted himself into a basic fighting stance.

"'Ere we go, mon. Let em go first we watch his back." calmly spoke the Head hunter as he felt the weight of his javelin, eyes quickly darting about his surroundings.

"Would not be the first time he brought us to the jaws of death so quickly." replied the Tauren with a huff, swiftly planting down glowing totems in the paved roads with a crackling thud.

"O'l'gaz thruk ka!" violently cries the orc Blademaster as he brings his arms up to his side, the hilt level with his jaw as he sprints headlong into the waiting paladin. Too, do the two comparatively smaller grunts take this as a signal to attack, and charge in with him, their axes swinging wildly as they join in his battle cry.
>> No. 40813863
"Light, grant me strength!" Holy Power arched through his weapon like lightning, his arm reeling back before hurdling the hammer down onto the ground between them, the paved stones shattering and cracking under the impact. The Light crackled at any caught in its area of effect, the Paladin stepping forward as power arched from him to the weapon, and back. His shield shone like the sun as he removed it from his arm, throwing it like a discus at the trio of Orcs, hand outward as a visible beam of power connected his palm to the shield, his arm waving before him as he controlled his defensive crest to go for each of his assailants. He charged forward, hand already reaching to grasp at the hammer upon the ground. The first battle had begun.

The noise crackled through the air, alerting the other two in search of the native.

"That isn't what I think it is, is it?"

"... Aye... Cap'n found the Horde bastards... Get a portal started, lass, I'll launch the smoke flare and get moving!"

The tiny mage quickly got to work, arms waving about as her palms shone violet and blue, mustering what power she could as the fabric of time and space warped before her, beginning to show a rather hazy and turbulent image of the unfinished forward garrison the Alliance had begun to build.

The mountaineer gripped at his pouch, beginning to run towards town, his fat fingers gripping onto a shell as he quickly slapped open the receiver of his rifle, slamming the shell home into the bore as he snapped the weapon shut. He pointed the rifle upwards, pulling the trigger. The report of the rifle cracked the silence around him and the mage, the shell flying upwards and exploding into a bright blue cloud far above.
>> No. 40813905
The shield hurtled through the air, it's hardened edge swiping one orc in the jaw like the devastating hook of a brawler. Down goes one grunt from the impact, his axe clattering to the ground.

This left one more grunt, and the Blademaster as they closed into melee range with the Paladin. As they stepped into reach, the crackling energies of white light snapped and burned at their feet, pain jolting up their bodies as they closed in. The Blademaster, having spotted his brother so easily brought down, swiftly raised up his blade to guard against the shield that was poised to cut them down like a sickle through wheat. A great clanging rang out as the metal impacted against one another, a jarring force rattling through his muscle and bone as the Blademaster absorbed the impact.

This left an opening for the other Grunt, who had raised his gargantuan axe high above his head, positioning himself to cleave the mighty paladin in twain.

Further back, the sharp report of a rifle could be heard over the now growing din of battle.

"Wuh oh, mon. Looks like more be comin' do dis party." said the Troll, his fingers playing with a bead and bone necklace around his neck.

"I'll go. I'll keep away any reinforcements, you either try to talk that Orc into retreating or we're all dead." growled the Tauren as he lifted up his totems, hefting an ornately carved 'staff' onto his shoulder. He charged past the dueling human and orc, his hooves smashing into the paved road as he went to meet the coming Alliance soldiers.
>> No. 40815321
The Paladin rose his palm to the axe blade, brilliant light shimmering and rippling like water as his shield impacted with the blade,,forcing him back slightly as his palm closed on the handle of his weapon. He tossed it up into the air as he stepped back to give himself room, his shield now flying right back at him.

His left hand clasped at the shield, his right grabbing fast to his mace. He let out a battlecry, roaring as he swung forward from below towards the midsection of the dwarf that attacked him, the pummel of the hammer sparking and crackling with energy.

A ways away, the hefty dwarf prepped his rifle for the fight, slamming home another shell as he locked the breach back into place, skidding to a stop behind some cover, the bore of his firearm resting on bags of flower. Though the stench from the apparent bakery was rather heavenly, he had more important things to deal with right now. He had to cover the mage while she opened that portal.

He looked down the path, scanning for any approaching enemies heading down the road, keeping low behind cover to keep himself from being seen immediately.
>> No. 40816084
The orc grunt is tossed back by the tremendous strength of the human, the burning and shocking pulses of his Light magic distracting and throwing the orcish warrior off balance as he hops and falls out of the reach of his weapon. The Blademaster however shows no signs of hindrance, and pursues with a deadly and predatory obsession his foe; the Paladin.

"Your magic will not save you, human!" roars the Orc in common as he drops his blade down to his right side, winding back his arms for a swing. His veins pop further as he prepares himself for his first attack, screaming wildly as he closes with the Paladin. Mid stride he starts his swing his contorted muscles releasing their energy as his arms shift and straighten out. The next step places him just out of two arms lengths of the Paladin, pivoting as he uses his forward momentum to accelerate the final phase of his attack, the hefty two-handed blade whistling through the air as it targets the lower left torso of the human.


With the human locked in brutal hand to hand battle with the Blademaster, the lumbering Tauren sprints past with ease down the eastern road he had spotted the Alliance soldiers to begin with. He huffs and puffs with every swing of his arm and stomp of his hoof; the burly and towering bull now passing the last house on the edge of town. Now slowing his pace, the Tauren reaches back to pull out a totem with his free hand, its face inscribed with a symbol for 'fire' in his people's language.
>> No. 40816160
The blade slammed home, links shattering and ringing, platemail clanging as the blade bit into the paladin. His tabard began to stain in crimson, the warrior of the Light crumpling onto the ground with the force of the attack, though the human rolled off to the side, crying out in pain as he did so, his divine powers searing his wound shut, pain burning through him like a hot poker on his flesh.

"Nnngh! Don't forget, Orc, that my 'magic' is that of the Light!" He scrambled up onto one knee, hand still gripping at his still shutting wound, his other reaching up over him. A brighter shine enveloped him, growing as brilliant as the sun in an attempt to blind and confuse his enemy while he tended to his wounds.


The bore tracked his target, the mountaineer keeping both eyes locked on the hulking form of the Tauren that ran by. He had not been spotted.

He calculated in his head, the blue hood of his cloak fluttering with the breeze. His thumb pulled back on the hammer of his handcannon, swiveling out of his cover as he fired, the stock slamming into his heavy shoulder. Fire and smoke belched from the muzzle of his weapon, the shell's solid slug spinning out of the rifled bore towards his intended target, hoping to get his attention before he got to the mage in the field.
>> No. 40816198
The Blademaster took a short step back as to create more distance, following through with his swing as he brought it up to his left, and downwards to hold it angled to his front. The pommel sitting perpendicular to his thigh, he regained his fighting stance just as the great flash forced him to recoil, his eyes squinting as he viewed only a golden flare in the place where the paladin knelt. He soon had to shut his eyes, his sight serving only to distract him.

The Blademaster exhaled, focusing his anger as he imagined the place where the Paladin rested. He raised his weapon in a practiced, smooth motion, the blade now parallel with the ground beneath him. He the kicked himself forward, blindly thrusting the tip of his sword at where he guessed his human adversary stood.

By this time, the Grunt had recovered his balance only to be stunned by the glaring yellow light, both his arms raised as he shielded himself from the flood of holy energies.


What sounded like thunder pealed off to the right of the Shaman, dark clouds rising up from the overturned cart the Dwarf had made his makeshift fortress. The Shaman could only snap his head in the direction of the crack, the sharp zip of a flying bullet filling his ears as his shoulder snapped backwards from the impact.

The bull grimaced in pain as it twisted and pierced through his hardened leather and iron armour; the green energies surrounding his hands sputtering into the air as his casting was interrupted by the shot. Looking now over his shoulder the Tauren spotted the concealed dwarf as the black plume his guns smoke rose into the air. Clenching through the pain the Shaman growled and threw down his one totem, a pillar of fire rising out from the ground he drove it into. Hefting the tree truck thick 'staff' into both hands, the Tauren charged forward at the Dwarf rifleman, his winged totem spitting a ball of fie out at his direction.
>> No. 40817782
The weapon destined for the Paladin crashed deep into his shoulder, the man crumpling in a heap as the blade bit into flesh and steel. The Light faded from both his hands and his eyes, his life seeping into the mortar of the cobblestones below him.

Fire erupted all around the dwarf as the fireball made its impact, forcing the marksman out of his hiding spot, leaping to get clear of the flames. His rifle skidded along the street a ways away, the dwarf's cloak smoking slightly, the edges singed. He gripped the handle of the massive axehammer strapped across his back, swinging it outwards in front of him as he looked to the tauren, charging at him with a battlecry of his own, weapon poised at the ready along his right to swing across in front of him at the towering shaman.

At that moment, several bronze colored suits of armor galloped up towards the small fighting group, cyan bristles upon their helms trimmed and neat. It seemed by that time, the locals had gotten their act together. The low rumble of galloping from a distance grew louder, the frantic flapping of wings and clattering of plate heard as more of these creatures appeared, heading directly for the town from the north and south.
>> No. 40818845
"Weak hearts!" cackled the Blademaster as his weapon wedged itself into the pauldron of the noble Paladin. The orc then pulled back and upward the sword's handle, attempting to complete his follow through by removing the weapon. However, a look of frustration formed as the weapon would not budge, the edge scraping against steel and grinding into bone, it lodged firmly into the stalwart body of the human.

"Gah! You pinkskins cannot even die like you should!" taunted the Orc as he raised a boot to brace himself against the Paladin's chest, unawares of the approaching native soldiers.

"Blademaster! Shall I finish off this human?" asked the Grunt, having now recovered from his dazed state. Burns scar up his legs and torso like a creeping vine as he walks up to the Blademaster and the Paladin, clutching at his battle axe.

"This kill is mine, grunt. A score to settle for my embarrassment in the Swamp." snapped the Blademaster, his attention turned away from the wounded knight.

Both these fighters were slow, in their own ways. Men of hardy muscle and stature, the Tauren shaman rushed forward as fast as his legs would drive his heavy body. He twisted his arms and torso back to the right, the great log of a staff building up for a devastating swing. Across from him the stubby legged dwarf too charged as quickly as his own legs would carry him, the sturdy and dense muscle better suited for the passages and crushing depths of the mountains. Still, little by little these two fighters closed in with one another, Tauren pride faced with Dwarven stubbornness.

Elsewhere, the Troll Headhunter had slinked off through the village, his leaner build allowing for far more agile manoeuvreing. Dodging between alleys and what little shadows were cast, the Amani tribesman had planted himself onto a rooftop to keep watch while his comrades dueled in the streets below. Peering across the horizon, the Troll spotted the widening cone of dust on the roads to the north, his hunter's vision giving him a better gleaming of what approaches.

"Dis not be good. Centaur? Nah, no arms, I tink." he whispered to himself as he reached behind him and set down his pack.

"Betta try and slow these hoof stompers down den...." The troll grabbed a net, with what appeared to be a cut gem woven into some of the knots. The Troll tossed it, a pale mist trailing off of the gems as it soared down to lay flat on the road below.

"Dis should slip dem up." he chuckled as he slid down the roof, rolling into a cart of hay to break his fall. Leaping from it the troll sprinted down the streets, headed back towards its centre once again.
>> No. 40821342
The paladin seemed to give off a dim glow as he felt the blade peel away from his form, forcing him to wince and cry out in pain. He had little time to act out the plan in his head.

His fingers clasped around a small device to port home, his limp arm staying out of view. His good hand open and shut with each signal of pain. He closed his eyes, looking down, concentrating on his final ounces of spiritual power to meld up what was needed.


The dwarf and tauren met in the middle, the crack of the heavy axe handle and tauren's staff echoing in the air. The stocky rifleman dug his feet into the ground as he pushed forward against his opponent's might, snarling and shouting insults in rapidfire dwarvish. It seemed he wasn't going to be budging anytime soon.

The little mage outside of town strained, letting out a small shout as she shoved her hands forward, the blast of wind ripping at her robes, hair and overcoat blasting back.

Soon, the armored clad footmen started to burst through, forming up in a small fighting formation, their officer shouting orders from the other side of the portal as he crossed through.


The local troops arrived from above, the Pegasi making landfall around the perimeter of the town. The unicorn contingents seemed to have fallen into an odd trap, forcing them to aid their snared allies and arrive late. Their wings beat and buffetted the air around them, armor glistening in the sun as they slowly began their steady advance towards the center of town.
>> No. 40822123
The net trap cracks and shatters as the hooves of the Guard thunder over it, the magic containing crystals activating and sending an ice spell which covers an entire block in a sheet of sturdy, and slick ice. This sends the stallions sliding and crashing over themselves as they are caught in the slick, breaking their cohesion and march for a short time. At least, time enough for the Headhunter to return to his ally....
The Blademaster cackled and raised up his sword, the tremendous weapon back as the pommel rests above his head. He peered down at the wounded Paladin, the blood from his wounds surging up with each beat of his heart.

"I will be sure to tell your family you died a whimpering dog." mocked the orc as his muscles tensed and flexed, in the midst of starting his executing blow.

"Uuh, boss! We got company!" calls out the orc as he points a fat green finger out at the approaching pegasi.

"Then go kill them! What are you, an orc or a sniveling goblin?"


The Tauren, with his greater height and weight, shoves forward against the Dwarf, his staff throwing the stout man off balance and staggering away. With this opening, the Tauren winds back with his staff with both arms, swinging his weapon like a club from the right.
>> No. 40830266
So is this like only Warcraft characters what's allowed and what's not?
>> No. 40830425
As long as you're not a pregnant DK, you're good to go. MLP universe and whatever crawled out of the portal from Azeroth is acceptable.

Just don't go crazy with the abilities, and if you're going to play a title character, you better be damn believable.

Last edited at Mon, Mar 23rd, 2015 19:41

>> No. 40830527
I was asking to see if I could bring in my SellSword character from my Dark Souls playthroughs
>> No. 40831142
Well you could just play a more setting appropriate sellsword from the world of Azeroth. Keep the name, personality but subtract the whacky powers. You could even choose undead if you wanted with the forsaken and all.
>> No. 40831248
Alright, I'll go make up a character sheet for my own reference and try to find a play to come in.
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