Post by Gin on Aug 28, 2014 17:13:05 GMT -6
Even the sounds of late night merriment from the tavern would be drowned out by the rain which hammered down from the sky above Kin's Bay. Thunder roared, and lightning crashed, illuminating the grounds in increasing intervals. In the midst of Nature's vengeance, something began to stir within Kin's Court. The air teemed with electricity, and a single raindrop suddenly stopped in it's tracks, mid-descent. The raindrop began to collect the surrounding electricity, and began to grow. Within it, a dark vortex began to take shape. It grew larger and larger, framed with furiously arcing bolts. The very fabric of reality had torn, and from the newly formed rift, Azeroth would be met with a visitor. He tumbled from the rift, and face planted into the soggy soil of Kin's Court. The rift immediately closed, leaving not one trace of it's evidence behind.
His body trembled, he having been in shock. He was on his hands and knees, staring at the grass inches from his face. He panted heavily, as if he had just been met with some traumatic experience. The rain whipped at his bare back, stinging him like millions of tiny, cold, needles. It was then a combination of shock and the elements that had him shivering. He lifted his head slowly, catching the light of the open tavern door in the distance. "Help," he rasped in a near whisper. No one would hear him through the rain, thunder, and lightning. He erupted into a coughing fit, and collapsed on the ground. He rolled onto his back, and just stared up at the merciless storm. He was covered in mud, miserable, and clueless. He closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and attempted to gather some wit. "Where am I?" he thought. He opened his eyes only to see that same storm coming down on him. He dug his fingers into the soil at his sides, feeling the cold mud and grass. "This is real," he ensured himself mentally, then slowly curled up. He shielded his eyes to peer back at that glowing tavern door. "Hello?" he called in a sore voice, as if he'd recently abused his vocal cords. He cleared his throat, rubbed at his neck, and pushed himself up to stand. His limbs were shaky, and he nearly collapsed right back down to the ground. He mustered enough energy to traverse the Court, and find temporary shelter beneath a high awning, jutting out from the Onyx Tower. There, he found a half-full grainsack. He pushed it over weakly, allowing the grain to spill out onto the ground. He lifted the sack up from the bottom, emptying it of the rest of it's contents. He wrapped the dirty burlap sack around his midsection, and lurched toward the tavern.
That open tavern door was like the light at the end of the tunnel. As he approached, he could hear the sounds of voices and laughter grow louder, and could feel the warmth from inside. When he was close enough to the door, he outstretched his arm to rest a hand on the door frame. He stumbled into the doorway, and caught himself on the frame. He clung to the wet, dirty, material that he had wrapped around himself, and leaned heavily on the door frame, just staring at those inside. Long, drenched, blue locks of hair fell partially over the features of his face, and clung to his body. His golden glowing eyes flitted to scan over each face they could find inside. He found himself speechless. The lost Night Elf only mouthed the word, "Help," before collapsing into the tavern, passed out cold.
His body trembled, he having been in shock. He was on his hands and knees, staring at the grass inches from his face. He panted heavily, as if he had just been met with some traumatic experience. The rain whipped at his bare back, stinging him like millions of tiny, cold, needles. It was then a combination of shock and the elements that had him shivering. He lifted his head slowly, catching the light of the open tavern door in the distance. "Help," he rasped in a near whisper. No one would hear him through the rain, thunder, and lightning. He erupted into a coughing fit, and collapsed on the ground. He rolled onto his back, and just stared up at the merciless storm. He was covered in mud, miserable, and clueless. He closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and attempted to gather some wit. "Where am I?" he thought. He opened his eyes only to see that same storm coming down on him. He dug his fingers into the soil at his sides, feeling the cold mud and grass. "This is real," he ensured himself mentally, then slowly curled up. He shielded his eyes to peer back at that glowing tavern door. "Hello?" he called in a sore voice, as if he'd recently abused his vocal cords. He cleared his throat, rubbed at his neck, and pushed himself up to stand. His limbs were shaky, and he nearly collapsed right back down to the ground. He mustered enough energy to traverse the Court, and find temporary shelter beneath a high awning, jutting out from the Onyx Tower. There, he found a half-full grainsack. He pushed it over weakly, allowing the grain to spill out onto the ground. He lifted the sack up from the bottom, emptying it of the rest of it's contents. He wrapped the dirty burlap sack around his midsection, and lurched toward the tavern.
That open tavern door was like the light at the end of the tunnel. As he approached, he could hear the sounds of voices and laughter grow louder, and could feel the warmth from inside. When he was close enough to the door, he outstretched his arm to rest a hand on the door frame. He stumbled into the doorway, and caught himself on the frame. He clung to the wet, dirty, material that he had wrapped around himself, and leaned heavily on the door frame, just staring at those inside. Long, drenched, blue locks of hair fell partially over the features of his face, and clung to his body. His golden glowing eyes flitted to scan over each face they could find inside. He found himself speechless. The lost Night Elf only mouthed the word, "Help," before collapsing into the tavern, passed out cold.