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Brannagen stands in the middle of Kirthaven, his sketchbook open and his pen busy. Emerging on the page is a drawing of the village, but not the charming details of its architecture — rather, it seems to be the village as it would be seen from high above.
Shine's white gryphon flashes overhead and vanishes over the village's roofs in the direction of the roost. A few moments later, Shine comes ambling down the hill.
Atley marches into Kirthaven, nearly glowing. He wears his shined and polished ceremonial knighthood armor. Miraculously, today, he is not chewing jerky. "Hullo', then."
Bran looks up as Atley addresses him and gives him a cheery salute, snapping his book shut. "Oh, is it time already?"
He spots Shine and gives him a beaming smile, eyes nearly disappearing.
Dane sharply returns the salute. "Nearly. Prepared for a wedding, are we?"
"Is anyone ever prepared for a wedding?" Bran says, and then laughs out loud.
Shine is also dressed in formal armor, much grander than the usual, dark leather with Alliance-blue scrollwork and gold accents. He is wearing Formal Daggers. He nods to the other two.
Oranna is perched on an outcropping, dressed in a lovely brown and gold dress that is of Cressidha Aspenwood™ make, and therefore Wedding Attire, surely. It probably says something about the state of the wedding prep that she also has her gun.
Oranna hops off and makes her way to the group once she sees them.
Bran is wearing his usual white robe, with its usual inkstains. Some of said stains are also on his beard and hands.
Befound is wearing her usual fur, and yes, the Chanel boots.
"Lo there, Boomer!" Bran says warmly.
Shine smiles faintly at Oranna.
Dane turns to Oranna and inclines his head. "Lovely. One of Cress's, then?"
Oranna waves at everyone. "Aye, one of Cress'," she confirms.
Dane grunts. "Let's not keep the bride and groom waiting, then. On me."
Dane marches over and pokes his head into the assembly room.
Shine follows silently at Dane's shoulder.
Oranna pokes her head around the edges of the tall people in front.
"I canna recall the last weddin' I attended…" Bran muses.
"My last one, well my first one, and not the last wedding I'll ever — it was Dane's," Oranna says awkwardly.
Dane briefly looks to Oranna, eyes flashing with fondness.
Bran gently pats Oranna.
Grundy MacGraff calls out, “Oi, Cobalts! Over here! We are ready to begin.”
Dane grunts at Grundy and marches over.
Grundy bows low with a grin. “Pleasure to meet ye officially. I’m Lachlan’s son, trained in the ways of the elements since I was a wee lad.”
Dane looks between Grundy and Lachlan.
Shine nods respectfully to Grundy.
Grundy’s grin lingers. “I’ve been entrusted to perform today’s momentous ceremony, but I’m concerned. Some shamans of the Earthen Ring passed through just yesterday, saying there was some kind of mysterious disturbance in the west.”
Dane furrows his brow at Grundy.
"Ach, this land's all manner o' disturbed," Bran agrees with Grundy.
Grundy glowers. “There’s been talk that the Twilight’s Hammer might be nearby, and that they might try to disrupt the wedding to thwart the union of the clans. I’ll do my best to keep the bride and groom safe, but I’d appreciate it if ye could hang back to watch the entrances.”
Dane raises his gaze and looks to the exit before he scans the room altogether. "We'll see to it."
Shine touches the hilt of a knife on his belt. He is glad he brought his Formal Daggers. He nods.
"Ye know ye can count on us!" Bran says amiably.
Oranna sighs, as she takes out SUNBEAM, the over-engineered gun. It's not that kind of Shotgun Wedding, but she's still prepared.
Grundy pauses. “Well, if most of ye could hang back. Seeing as how Fanny’s father’s dead and her brother is the best man, she’s asked if Bran would be willing to walk her down the aisle.”
"Wait what?" Bran boggles.
Shine looks over at Bran, brow lifted.
Dane looks to Bran with an encouraging glare and a nod.
Grundy says, “Since her father is dead and her brother the best man, Fanny has asked that Brannagen walk her down the aisle. What an honor!”
Oranna also looks over at Bran.
Bran turns quite red, and for a moment seems to have no idea what to say. Mark this one down for the history books.
"He's up for it," Dane growls.
"Oh aye, aye, whatever ye need!" Bran nods agreeably.
"Ye can say no," Oranna tells him. She glances back at Grundy. "He can say, no, aye? I can do it if she'll take another if he does."
Grundy MacGraff's eyes briefly flash with anger at Oranna before he exhales smoothly. "He can, aye…" he adds mildly. "Talk to me when you're ready to begin. Remember, stay back and watch the perimeter."
Bran shoots Oranna a warm, grateful look.
And of course gently pats her.
Oranna pauses to scrutinize Bran and then nods. "Aright, then."
Dane grunts. "Very well. You two, with me." He backs up to the entrance.
Shine follows.
Outside in the sunshine, a flower-bedecked wedding arch and altar stand at the center of the village square, hewn-log benches arranged before them. At one edge of the square, a formidable number of kegs have been stacked, and most of the villagers and guests seem to be milling in that area at present. Russell Brower strums a peaceful tune on his lute and does not say ‘whoa diggity’ even once. Yet.
Kurdran Wildhammer and Keegan Firebeard stand apart from the others in conversation.
Kurdran Wildhammer says: A big day, Firebeard. The Wildhammer united can never be stopped!
Keegan Firebeard says: I hope you're right, Kurdran old friend.
Kurdran Wildhammer says: Never doubt it. Here, allow me to give you my wedding gift.
Kurdran reaches back and produces a watermelon-sized egg from… his pauldron? Or something?
Kurdran Wildhammer says: The only surviving egg of my late gryphon, Sky'ree. Honor it and care for it; her child is yours.
Keegan Firebeard says: Kurdran — no, I couldn't! Sky'ree was a legend, I can't–
Kurdran Wildhammer says: I'll not hear a word of it. The egg is yours. I want you to see how committed I am to this union.
Kurdran Wildhammer says: And how committed the Alliance is to the Wildhammer cause!
Keegan Firebeard says: Aye. Thank you, Kurdran.
Kurdran Wildhammer says: Ah, look. Here comes Brannagen, escorting your bride!
He puts the egg back in his pauldron. Apparently.
Bran and Fanny have indeed entered the square, and the crowd hurries to settle on benches. Keegan, his gaze soft, takes his place at the altar before Grundy as his bride and Bran process toward him.
The other members of Cobalt Company, as directed, move away to watch the periphery.
Grundy MacGraff says: Ladies and gentledwarves, we gather here in the shadow of Thunderstrike to honor the union of Fanny Thundermar and Keegan Firebeard.
Grundy MacGraff says: May their bond be as eternal as the wind, waves, stone and fire.
Grundy MacGraff says: Do you, Keegan and Fanny, accept one another into your lives, that two become as one, in union everlasting?
Keegan Firebeard says: I do.
Fanny Thundermar says: I do.
Grundy MacGraff says: Then, by the powers vested in me… the powers vested in me…
There is a strained pause. Grundy takes a harsh breath, and then his expression transforms to a rictus smile. Something seems to ripple beneath his skin.
Grundy MacGraff says: …BY BLOOD AND SHADOW!
The shaman’s eyes are twin flames. He throws his head back in a silent scream, and then a shadow seems to boil out from within him. Where a dwarf stood moments ago, a massive n’raqi now stands swaying, its grotesque arms upraised.
Grundy MacGraff says: I SHALL CONSUME YOUR LIFEBLOOD IN THE NAME OF THE MASTER.
Bran just… freezes. Completely.
The wedding guests erupt with screams and shouting, and dwarves scatter.
Dane snarls at The Beast Unleashed and draws not Thunderfury, but his Royal Sword. "Kill it!"
Shine swears once, and then is there at the altar behind the beast formerly known as Grundy.
"Bran!" Oranna yells, coming to stand in front of him, as she fires shot after shot at the beast.
Bran continues to stare openmouthed, his eyes blank. Bran has temporarily left the building. Hope no one needs a healer.
The Wildhammers have recovered with surprising speed, and are now piling into the fray with maces and axes.
Keely Dunwald says: Get it! Kill it!
Cliff Thundermar says: Stop that thing!
Donnelly Dunwald says: Waaaaahhhhh!!
Iain Firebeard says: It's one of them!
"Bran!" Oranna calls again, mid-fight, although she doesn't stop shooting to keep the thing off everyone. Befound bites a tentacle. Chomp! Now she's wearing Black, white, and red to this wedding.
Shine wheels around to cut back a tentacle that has lashed up from the ground behind him. He dodges sideways and swears again. He's feeling chatty, it seems.
The massive beast unleashes shadow magic wildly, but this is a Wildhammer wedding, buddy. You picked the wrong party.
After the monster falls, Dane performs a headcount, first of the Wildhammers, and then his own people. He flicks some bile off of his sword before he sheathes it, and marches up to Brannagen, clasping him firmly on the shoulder.
"Brannagen. Stay sharp. I need you with us," Dane explains sternly.
Bran blinks and shakes his head. "Sorry, sorry man… sorry! Ach!! Sorry!" He's white as a sheet, but focused.
As soon as the unholy beast of blood and shadow is dead, Befound stretches, and licks at a patch of fur.
Shine inspects a knife blade, glances over at Dane and Bran, and then turns courteously away. He studies the massive corpse on the earth before the altar.
Dane gives Brannagen a brief shake. "Have a sip of water." He spots Kurdran over the crowd and nods. "On me, Blue Squad."
Bran has a sip of water. Maybe a chug.
Shine crouches down to examine the Faceless One with curiosity. He glances up and then rises to follow Dane.
Bran pushes back his hood and wipes his sweaty brow. Then just swipes his entire large hand over his entire sweaty face.
Oranna goes to sit next to Bran, offering out another skin of water. She has extra. "Ye all right?"
Bran gives Oranna a warm but shaky smile. "Aye, aye, I jest… heh! Tha' was a surprise, eh? Eheheheheeh. Heheheh."
Keely Dunwald says: Twilight's Hammer don't scare me none. Bring 'em on!
Colin Thundermar says: *hic* You an' me, Firebeard. Wildhammers FOREVER.
Colin Thundermar says: I love yoooouuu man … *hic* like a BROTHER!
Eoin Dunwald says: Wildhammers stay ta'gether wot slay ta'gether!
Keely Dunwald says: Wiiiiiildhammmmmer!
Colin Thundermar says: Tha's the way we Wildhammer … get hitched, it was. *hic* That were BEAUTIFUL!
Eoin Dunwald says: BEST! WEDDING! EVAR! *Hic*
The Wildhammers seem okay.
Shine glances around at the dancing, drinking dwarves. He looks mildly nonplussed.
Oranna glances back at all the celebrating Wildhammers, and gently pats Bran, wiping a bit more sweat off his forehead while she's at it.
Kurdran Wildhammer approaches ebulliently, carrying a tray of drinks like the world’s beardiest cocktail waitress.
Kurdran says, “We did it! Fighting that … thing side-by-side really brought all the Wildhammers together. The heads of the families are more united than I've ever seen them. Drink up, Cobalts, and celebrate!!”
Kurdran offers them each a shot glass.
Bran cheers, despite himself, at the suggestion of a celebration.
He also preemptively takes Oranna's shot glass. "Hey Boomer, I'll take yer shot, ye did enough shots already, heh heh heh! Ye know, a' the… theng. Hehehe."
Dane briefly side-eyes Brannagen.
Oranna laughs at Bran's joke, and then checks on SUNBEAM and her ammo situation. She did a lot of shots earlier, it's true.
Dane grunts and reaches down to take a shot, knocking it back and returning it to the plate.
Shine accepts a shot glass politely.
Chief Thane Kurdran Fucking Wildhammer just gave Shine a drink. He’s all a-quiver.
Oranna awkwardly mimes having a shot glass, and then fumbles for an actual cup in her bag, which is empty, and takes an imaginary drink. "Cheers!"
Kurdran takes a drink himself and waves it. “Of course, our work is only beginning. I'll rally our new Wildhammer reinforcements with the rest of the Alliance and prepare to storm the Twilight Bastion.”
Shine nods silent approval at Kurdran and throws back his own shot.
Kurdran smirks. “I'm sure we'll meet again soon.”
There goes Kurdran, delivering more drinks.
High Shaman Lachlan MacGraff is standing nearby, gray-faced and hollow-looking.
Lachlan shakes his head. “I can't believe it. Me own son — me own flesh and blood! Throwing his lot in with those fiends from the Twilight's Hammer. Did you see what he became when he tried to destroy the wedding? Oh… why? Why?”
"Ach, I'm sorry, ser," says Bran sincerely.
"These foes torment and warp the mind," Dane growls sympathetically.
Lachlan forms fists. “It's that disturbance. Some sort of trouble in the west. My son said it spoke to him, but I thought it was just nightmares,” he relates in an ominous tone before shivering.
Oranna looks increasingly uneasy. "Tha'… does not sound good."
Lachlan nods. “The Earthen Ring passed through some time ago. They said they were looking into it. Go to Earthcaller Torunscar, west of here, and see how you can help!”
Shine glances toward the west and tilts his head as if listening.
Oranna looks off to the North, squinting.
"I dinna ken ef it helps at all, ser," says Bran, "but the Old Gods have a way o' crackin' even the purest minds, given enough time an' proximity. It's nothin' ta be ashamed of. They're a powerful force. We'll help out. We've got… experience."
Dane scowls at the west before he looks back to Lachlan. "We'll gather justice for your lad," he says with a father's sympathy.
Bran clicks his tongue and shakes his head.
Lachlan rubs his eyes and looks from Brannagen to Dane, nodding a few times.
"Mount up! No time to change out the finery, you lot. Let's move," Dane growls, whistling for Thoras.
They move. No one changes out of finery.
Bronzebird seems to have reverted slightly to his anxiety issues after that whole situation. He flies a bit erratically, molting feathers.
As they fly west, a massive horror unfolds below them.
Thoras screeches with angry dismay at the sight of a giant, gaping, fleshy mouth in the earth flanked by dozens of spiked tentacles. Atley parts his lips in hateful disbelief, teeth clenched.
"Oh, what the fuck," Shine murmurs. Actually audibly. (This is equivalent to a full-blown Shine panic attack.)
Bran almost falls off of Bronzebird, but manages to right himself in time.
Oranna's jaw drops as she holds on so tightly to the gryphon's reins that she's probably doing some harm.
"Ach, ach, ach, acccchhhhh…" says Bran. Then curses just heinously in Dwarven.
Dane turns his head towards Brannagen as he tugs on the reins, still glaring out over the sight in bewilderment. "Stay together," he says at last, before gnashing his teeth. "Stay on me!"
Shine stays on Dane. Orders: orders are good.
"Thank the Light yer all seein' et…" Bran murmurs.
"Is that a real thing? That's a real thing?" Shine stares.
"If it's not, an' we're still all seein' a giant mass o' tentacles, that's its own terrifyin' problem," Oranna says.
Bran taps his nose and points to Oranna. "Strange as et may sound, et bein' real is the better possibility."
Dane tears his eyes off of the sight and inspects his squad mates before he spots a patch of green and swoops down.
Bran wipes more sweat.
As soon as the gryphons land, Shine drops from his and jogs toward the cliff-edge to stare at the thing in the distance some more.
Bran seems torn between a kind of morbid, insistent curiosity and a deep, gut-level revulsion as he alternately averts his eyes from and stares at the writhing mass of tentacles.
Oranna can't resist looking back through her scope at it. "It's no'… I don't think it's gettin' any bigger. Yet. I shouldna have said — what if now it starts gettin'…" She trails off ominously.
Dane turns to glare as well, before he spots his comrades and sticks a gauntleted finger into his mouth, letting out a shrill whistle.
Shine turns at once, crisply, and steps back toward Dane.
Oranna startles at the whistle, whirling around, and lowering her gun when she realizes there is not a sudden new threat.
Bran gives Oranna another gentle pat. It would be more reassuring if his palms weren't so sweaty it's palpable through his gloves.
"Look at me," Dane growls. "If that thing lives, it can be killed, and we are the ones to do it, as long as we keep our wits and work together. Do you understand me?"
Shine nods curtly at Dane.
"Oh aye aye, Old Gods themselves can be killed, an' we know it well!" Bran says brightly. But bright more like a flickering flame this time, rather than his usual steady star.
"I understand ye," Oranna says. "But I can tell ye now, I can't shoot off tentacles and have it do anything. I need an eye or a brain or… an eye to a brain…" Oranna mutters.
"I'm sure there's plenty of eyes to aim at somewhere in there, Boomer," Bran murmurs. "Hehehehe, plenty of eyes."
"Well, I've got plenty of bullets, so hopefully it's the same amount of plenty," Oranna says to Bran.
Dane turns towards Earthcaller Torunscar and performs a small doubletake with a squint.
Earthcaller Torunscar exclaims, “Welcome, brotha. Good ta see ya again, and wit some new faces. You've chosen a harsh time to be joinin' us, but that is to our fortune. We could use ya help.”
Dane grunts at Torunscar. "We've come to help."
Torunscar says, “It won't be takin' much convincin' to turn us against da Twilight — dat's already our goal. We've already come to battle here though, so we may be needin' ya help before we can turn towards dey're fortress.”
Dane grunts.
Torunscar explains, “Da Twilight have already brought Iso'rath up from da ground to the south, I'm sure ya noticed.”
We noticed.
“Its tentacles have been burstin' from da ground all around us. We could use a hand beatin' them down, if you be willin'.”
"Fortress??" Oranna asks, looking around. "They've got a fortress already? What do their builders… maybe… maybe I dinna want the answer to tha' question, never mind."
"We're experienced with Old God creatures," Bran reassures himself. I mean Torunscar.
Dane grunts at Torunscar and draws his sword. "We're willing." He looks at his weapon, and probably wishes it was Thunderfury.
Shine probably wishes for less formal daggers.
He does, conveniently, have poison to apply to the formal ones. Maybe it's formal poison.
"It'll buy some time at least, aye," Oranna says dubiously. She isn't wishing for another gun. She brought her gun.
She is probably wishing she wasn't wearing a dress, though.
As they move away from Torunscar, Dane says, "I want to see each of you get a good hit in on this wretch. That's an order."
Shine looks faintly surprised. "Aye, sir. Course."
Bran gets his whomping stick ready.
Once they're out of earshot of the troll shaman, Bran says with uncharacteristic seriousness, "I willna break again, I promise ye. I'm prepared noew."
Dane looks to Bran, eyes him for a moment, and nods. "I trust you."
Oranna pats Bran. "Even if ye do, I'll be right there, aye? I'll keep ye steady for when ye come back."
"Bless ye," Bran says, and pats Oranna again.
Then he actually blesses everyone, remembering that he's a priest.
They make their way across the shattered terrain, shooting and stabbing and whomping the tentacles that sprout up everywhere.
Dane grunts. "I'd have had our navy blast this location to smithereens."
"Our navy would be glad to, sir," Shine tells him.
Dane scoffs with amusement. "Target rich environment, innit', wouldn't you say?"
"Tha's… that's certainly a way o' lookin' at it, aye?" Oranna says uncertainly.
Despite having all manner of smitey spells at his disposal, Bran makes a point of running right up to a tentacle and whacking it with a stick.
"Look sharp! More of those things like the wedding one." Shine points a knife at a Faceless One shambling in the distance.
Dane makes a point of nodding at Brannagen with pride before he looks to Shine and grunts. "Aye, keen."
"Light! Look at them leapin'!" Oranna scopes in on the leaping Faceless.
"Back to Torunscar. We've bought some time," Dane says.
Dane marches up to Torunscar, his polished armor having grown blotchier. "We've put the smaller tentacles to the sword," Dane says.
"An' the gun. An' the claw, an' the knife, an'… ye… ye probably didn't need the list," Oranna mutters.
Bran chuckles at Oranna. His color is almost back to normal now.
Oranna's dress doesn't have a single stain on it. Good tailoring or good keeping the hunter out of the fray? Hard to say.
Shine still looks remarkably formal. He was definitely not out of the fray. He’s also definitely stained. His formal is kind of a Vibe, more than anything.
Torunscar visibly relaxes, but only slightly. “Tank ya. A bit of breathin' room helps a lot.”
Torunscar says, “Da Twilight's Hammer have destroyed a Dragonmaw town to the south and are performin' dey're summonin' rituals from there. Offer dem no respite to continue wit dey're incantations. Bring tha battle to dem!”
Shine nods once and looks to Dane.
Dane grits his teeth at Torunscar. "Done."
"No respite!" Bran repeats, as though it's a battle cry.
"No respite," Dane echoes.
Shine nods again.
"Well, we're already out here, an' if they're working with all that…" Oranna says.
The towering form of Earthmender Duarn waves them over. “Greetings.”
Bran heads over toward Duarn and looks up, up, up at the Tauren.
"Hullo?" Oranna says, waving uncertainly to a tauren she doesn't recognize.
Duarn says, “We are preparing a ritual that may be of use in destroying Iso'rath, the old god bred abomination that the Twilight's Hammer have brought up from the depths."
"Brelliant!!" Bran says.
"Oh! That's… that sounds great!" Oranna tells him. "Thank ye. So…" She looks over at the visibly not-actually-doing-anything shamans.
Duarn sighs. “We are delayed though, for one of our strongest was captured during an assault on their encampment. I believe you have crossed trails with her,” he says to Atley. “Earthcaller Yevaa.”
Shine looks to Atley again.
Dane nods slowly and briefly looks to Oranna. "We're familiar."
Duarn says, “She is within the ruins to the south. She is not dead. I am sure of it. Please, rescue her. If any of us is deserving of your aid, it is her.”
"So if we get this lass back fer ye, ye'll be able to finish the ritual?" Bran asks.
Dane chimes in. "She's a sharp one. We'll need her." he confirms.
"Oh, aye. Search an' rescue's a specialty. We'll find her," Oranna says confidently, looking… east?
Shine looks south. And then at Oranna, and then south again.
Initiate Goldmine grins and finger-guns Atley. “Heyyy, how ya’ doin’?”
Dane spots the lonesome goblin shaman and grumbles mildly before marching over.
Oranna squints over at Goldmine. "Isn't tha'… the goblin playin' fast an' loose with elemental contracts?" Oranna mutters as they wander over.
"'Tis," Dane confirms.
"Wait, do I know ye…?" Bran peers at the goblin.
Shine hangs back, watching the goblin with wary distaste.
Initiate Goldmine gestures to himself, arms extended at his sides. "It's me! Goldmine! Deepholm! You don't call, you don't write…" he teases.
Goldmine says, “Look, you know I'm new to this gig. Very new. But ya know what? That gives me perspective!”
Oranna looks dubiously at Goldmine. "If I turn my scope to look at the ground, it's still a perspective, doesna mean it's a useful one," Oranna mutters.
Bran sighs at the goblin.
"Ordrinarily I'd trust a greenskin only as far as I could throw 'em," Dane says. "But, but you people have a knack for explosions." He glances behind Goldmine at the tentacles. "We could use some extraordinary thinking for an extraordinary circumstance."
Bran chuckles.
Goldmine grins.
Goldmine explains, “These shaman buddies of mine have come upon somethin' great, but they're too single minded! They lean on the elements and they forget to make use of the common materials all around them.”
Shine looks from Goldmine to the tentacles and back. He may be wondering whether tentacles eat goblins.
Goldmine conspiratorially leans forward and rubs his hands together. “In the ruins to the south, I saw those Twilight goons tote in barrels of flammable oil! They used it when they razed the town. I say we use it when we raze them.”
Dane grunts and cranes his head in a nod. "A fine idea. We'll get you wot' you need."
"Aye, whatever works!" says Bran.
Shine raises his eyebrow. He nods at Dane.
"Jus'… watch yer eyebrows with the flames," Oranna cautions.
"Let's ride, you lot. Stay sharp, watch for tentacles," Dane says.
"Oh, aye, an' the tentacles. An' the leapers. An' the… orcs… an' the dragons… that's a lot of things to look fer," Oranna says.
"Yevaa's the priority. We'll need her expertise," Dane says as they land.
"Right," Oranna agrees. "They're no' likely keepin' her out an' where we could easily see her, so. Look fer where the defense is the strongest?"
Dane grunts. He also points out a barrel. "This is wot' the greenskin wants."
"Stronghold." Shine nods up the hill at the building.
"They… want us ta go through their camp an' take all their things?" Oranna asks Dane.
Bran brings his staff up in a sweeping arc right under an orc's chin. Surprisingly effective!
Dane grunts. "To use against them."
Shine prods a blackened beam cautiously as they enter the half-ruined building. It remains sturdy.
Oranna watches the prodding, and sighs with relief that it's sturdy.
Dane widens his eyes as they spot Earthcaller Yevaa on an altar with a massive ogre looming over her. "Bring it down!"
"Ach, one o' the two headed ones," Bran mutters. "Never good."
Shine brings it down.
"Oh no," Oranna says as they get closer. "Is she…"
"Brannagen." Dane just nods at Yevaa.
Bran attempts to heal her.
Earthcaller Yevaa is healed!
Earthcaller Yevaa sighs with relief and says, “Thank the elements to see you again. Did my brothers send you?”
Bran beams at the draenei woman.
Dane grunts. "They did."
Shine turns his back to the altar to watch the entrance warily as the others speak to Yevaa.
Shine is familiar with respawns.
Yevaa says, “It goes without saying that I had no desire to stay here, but there were materials we needed for the ritual. I delayed to secure them, and that is what led to my capture.”
Dane grunts.
Yevaa says, “I will return to the circle, but I would be indebted to you if you would finish what I could not. We need hearts from the fire elementals that the Twilight's Hammer enslave in the western portion of the encampment.”
Oranna glances repeatedly at the exit, making sure it remains a clear path. "Fire hearts… aye, this is a Goldmine plan all right," she mutters.
Dane nods once, firmly. "We'll see to it."
Yevaa frowns, her own, much smaller, much cuter tentacles curling. “The elementals are without hope, but in this sacrifice they can extract their revenge.”
"Whatever ye need ta get rid of that tentaclebeast," Bran says.
Dane growls at both Yevaa and Brannagen. "Right."
"No mercy for this lot. They'd give you none," Dane says.
Shine is already working like he is unfamiliar with this — How you say? ‘Mercy?’
"Er so… who is gonna carry these burnin' hearts?" Bran asks.
Dane looks to Brannagen and nods. "You will."
"Oranna, you'll keep track of oils," Dane says.
"Oh, of course, make the man wi' the great big beard carry the theng that's on fire," Bran says, cheerfully doing so.
"Aye, I'm on it," Oranna says, carefully packing each explosive away in a system that makes sense to her.
Shine just stabs things. He's a specialist.
Dane examines his ceremonial sword, or more specifically, its sharpness.
"Boomer," Bran says solemnly, "ye'll be relieved soon o' the responsibility o' braidin' me beard, once it all burns off."
Oranna chuckles weakly. "Ach, dinna let them take yer beard from ye, Bran. That means they're winnin' if they take our eyebrows and beards."
Bran laughs.
Dane charges in at an elemental and beats it down. "Look for the heart."
"It's probably at the heart o… I mean the center of it," Oranna says.
Dane grunts and noisily stomps on the metallic, stonewrought ribcage enough times to crack it. He gestures at Brannagen.
Bran tries several methods of carrying the elemental hearts before he finds one that doesn't result in scorched material and weird smells.
Dane watches patiently.
"Er, sorry 'bout the burnt leather stench," Bran says. "Was sure that'd work."
Dane looks from Oranna to Brannagen before he nods. "We've got wot' we need."
Oranna sniffs the air. "I… I'm not sure I can smell it over the… " She gestures broadly.
Shine nods at Oranna. That.
"Hearts at the ready," Dane tells Brannagen as they return and approach Earthcaller Yevaa.
Bran hands them over. Carefully.
Yevaa bows her head. “Thank you, Cobalt Company. You have proven once again quite capable. I'm extremely grateful that you've chosen to aid us.”
"Let's be rid of those oils," Dane says, nodding to Oranna.
Oranna nods. "Right."
Bran eyes the goblin shaman as they approach.
Shine again hangs back from the conversation with the goblin. He watches the distant tentacles instead.
Bran looks the direction Shine is looking. Then tears his gaze away.
"We've got enough for a proper explosion," Dane says.
Oranna takes out the barrels of oil carefully, balancing them on the ground so they won't spill or topple over or be near someone's feet or the weird water wobble shields or totems or —
"There," Oranna says. "Tha's all of them."
Initiate Goldmine whoops! “Now that's what I'm talkin' about! Can you think of all the uses for this stuff? I definitely can't. But I can think of a lot, and I'm liking the possibilities.”
"That's… certainly a type of encouragin' thought thinkin'," Oranna tries.
Dane grunts, briefly eyeing Goldmine before he turns to his squad. "To Torunscar. See wot' else needs doing."
Bran absently strokes his beard, which is still completely intact.
"We put everything that moved to the sword, Earthcaller," Dane explains.
Earthcaller Torunscar says, “Revenge is bittersweet, but I'm glad we be havin' someone as powerful as da Cobalts see dis done.”
Torunscar nods decisively. “We are ready to attack the beast. First, we need to destroy its tentacles, den Yevaa will perform a ritual to summon a powerful fire elemental dat we will drop into its maw.”
Dane scoffs with aggressive approval. "Burn it alive, then."
"Oh. Tha'll… certainly… explode something," Oranna says.
Torunscar says, “I want you to fly out with our first group attack. Hold steady until an opportunity presents itself, then join the battle with the rest of the shamans in cutting the tentacles down.”
Torunscar says, “Take any one of the gryphons when they're ready ta join da assault.”
"Righ'. Battle on a gryphon, a thing I can do really easily, an' not at all terrifyin', an' I'm not at all worried that'll I'll also get dropped into the maw of tha' thing," Oranna mutters.
As Shine steps away from Torunscar to survey the Assault Gryphons, he observes quietly, "Fallon's hunting trolls off Stranglethorn right now."
"Oh, did Fallon get his mind back all right, after he lost it fer a bit, then?" Oranna asks.
Shine turns and slow-blinks one-eyed at Oranna. "… oh, aye. He did, aye."
Oranna nods to Shine. "Well, that's one thing good then, aye?"
Shine shrugs agreement. Is it? Who can say?
Bran absorbs himself with notes for a bit.
Oranna undoubtedly receives her Bran pats.
Undoubtedly.
Dane glances down at his stained tabard with a glare before he looks back to the Maw, and then Shine. "Have much experience with this?"
Shine glances over at Dane and tilts his head. "With… things like that one?" He gestures at the tentacled maw.
"Or the Faceless ones," Dane says, scowling at the tentacles.
"I do not."
"Wot'ever happens to us, it'll happen to us together," Dane grunts.
"I'm no' sure that's… comfortin' if the thing we're all doin' is getting swallowed by a giant tentacle monster, but I guess… we won't be alone?" Oranna hazards to Dane.
"Win or die as one, and we will win." Dane works his jaw as he watches the endless tentacle flailing. "We're going to teach that thing the meaning of fear, and pain."
"I… I think… well, the Twilight sorts are all sort of into that, aren't they? Fear and pain? I think they know it well enough. I don't think they're as familiar though with hope and friendship an' light. An'… Light light, the Light, the capital L." Oranna tries.
Dane shakes his head. "They thirst for control. They're not used to it being happened upon them."
Dane up-nods. "But that fackin' eyesore will regret being spawned."
Shine looks a little skeptical. Politely.
Stormcaller Mylra has finished preparing the gryphons and gives Blue Squad a nod.
"Right then, you lot. Pick a beast and mount up," Dane says.
Bran makes a sneaky sketch of Mylra.
Oranna picks her own gryphon. It's probably the only one she trusts.
Thoras narrows his eyes as Atley mounts another gryphon.
Stormcaller Mylra says: Here we go. Hold on tight!
The squad mounts Wildhammer gryphons — except for Oranna, she has gryphons at home — and follow the gryphon-mounted shamans toward the massive, tentacled maw.
When they reach Iso’rath, the squadron of shamans begin to make wide, looping circles around and among the forest of lashing tentacles, apparently waiting for a cue of some kind.
Stormcaller Mylra says: Watch those tentacles! Their reach is frightening.
Iso’rath is not waiting for a cue, and is also pretty spry for a tentacled maw. It begins to snatch gryphons and their riders out of the air. Including the members of Blue Squad.
No one could have foreseen this.
Dane clings to the gryphon and draws his sword just as he's swept up and flung around.
Shine grabs for a handful of feathers and then loses hold and tumbles.
Bran frantically casts Levitate on Shine.
Shine's fall slows and he throws a wild look up at Bran, nods relief, and then looks down again. Is it… good that he is falling slower into whatever is happening? Would quicker be better?
Oranna screams as she's tossed over into the exact nightmare scenario she worried about. That's the trouble with worrying. Sometimes, you'll be right.
Bran is snatched off his own gryphon by a tentacle and flung after the people he is trying to help.
Dane gets flung off his gryphon with violent force, but Stormcaller Mylra manages to place a slow fall spell on him as well. "Oranna — !"
Oranna is still screaming for a good portion of her slow fall before she runs out steam, panting as she holds her arms around her and come to a gentle landing stop.
Shine lands on his feet in the pool of… something unpleasant at the bottom of the… Old God's servant's maw.
Dane lands in the muck at the bottom, soiling his nice knightly armor even further before he pushes himself up and marches over to Oranna.
Bran is pale but focused. War mode. He doles out heals, though his spells lack their usual festive sparkle.
They are not alone in the belly of the beast. Most of the other Earthen Ring shamans have been flung down here with them, and Earthcaller Yevaa stands only a few paces away, already working frantically on her fire elemental summoning, flaming totems ranged around her.
Oranna's teeth are chattering like she's cold, in the middle of the fire summoning. "Are we… did we… did we stop?" Oranna asks Dane.
Dane raises his voice. "All in one piece, are we?"
Shine checks. He is all in one piece. He nods again at Bran — thanks — and then at Dane.
Oranna looks down at herself. Is she? "Am I?"
Dane grunts at Oranna, and tries to pull her to her feet, moving gently this time. "We are." He reaches back and unclasps his cloak, trying to wrap it around her. "We've stopped, and we are alive, and in control."
"I am in one piece, but that piece is in an extremely unfortunate place an' general situation," Bran says dryly.
He’s not wrong.
Befound is nowhere to be seen. She's likely still up top, waiting for her person to come back.
Oranna clutches her gun the way most people hold on to security blankets. "Right. So now… now what?" She looks very small in Dane's big cape.
Earthcaller Yevaa calls to them, “The tentacles swept us off of our gryphons as well! They were far more nimble than we anticipated.”
Shine stares flatly at Yevaa.
Truly, no one could have foreseen it.
"As strange as et may sound," Bran says in a calm voice, "thes es not the ferst time I have fallen into a pit full of Old God nonsense. An' I'm still here."
Dane grunts at Brannagen before he looks back to Yevaa.
Her tail curls with determination. “No matter. We were prepared for this possibility. I will summon the elemental from here if you can keep me safe.”
"That's… encouragin'?" Oranna says. She doesn't look like she can keep much of anyone safe at the moment, but appearances can be deceiving.
"You heard her. Stay sharp." Dane growls.
As Yevaa turns back to her ritual, shadows bubble up around them. Blobs of gooey black stuff take shape and crawl toward the shaman and her Cobalt entourage.
Shine watches the black blobs surge toward them. Are they… knifeable? Let's find out!
Dane raises his sword to unleash a shockwave on the Bloods of Iso'rath, only to realize he's not carrying Thunderfury.
"There's a lot of 'em," Shine calls in a weirdly calm fashion that signals DANGER DANGER.
Bran frantically casts heals.
"Hold — HOLD!" Dane growls.
Oranna tries backing up and almost backs up right into a sludge.
Bran gets completely enveloped by ooze. The heals stop.
"Stormbreaker!" Shine calls in warning to Oranna. And then he's overwhelmed.
Dane's defiant roar is muffled as he's absorbed by the blood.
The End
Great season, everyone.
Okay but no. The members of Blue Squad gradually come to… in a completely different place.
Dane sits up, before he hops to his feet, in the Maelstrom.
Thrall’s voice booms. “I've brought you back from the brink of death, heroes!”
Thrall raises the Doomhammer. “Deathwing is upon us! We need your help!”
Brannagen is deeply disoriented and shell-shocked, but he tries his best to… heal… someone?
Shine staggers to his feet and looks around in bewilderment, then recoils from the black dragon that fills the sky. He reaches for a knife. He does not have his knives.
Dane tries to yell something, but he's drowned out by the sound of the storm. He raises his sword, only to find that once again, it's not Thunderfury.
Thrall says, “There's no time! Deathwing struck before we could form against him. If you do not stop him, the Earthen Ring will end this day!”
Oranna is just a dwarven girl in a dress, Thrall.
The dragon’s massive form is a vortex of shadow and flame; the sky is full of his roar above that of the storm. He is… also impossible to reach.
Thrall says: NOBUNDO! NOOO!
Shine looks around for anything. Should he… throw a rock? What is he supposed to do here exactly?
Oranna is a sodden mess, but she's still trying to find something, anything in her bags to do something with. A bomb? No. It's… It's fireworks.
She tries.
Dane reaches for [The Lion Horn of Stormwind] to find it shattered in his hand. He widens his eyes in furious disbelief.
Thrall says: Aggra… this can't be… this has gone too far…
Oranna shoots another firework, aiming for Deathwing's eye. Best she can do.
Thrall says: Do something, you useless fools! My allies are giving their lives for you!
"How dare ye…" Bran manages. He actually takes a swipe at Thrall with his staff. Then he… falls on his face for a minute.
"Not magical!" Shine shouts at Thrall above the storm. "Ye picked the wrong lot!"
Oranna's only magical girl moment is that her dress is still Pristine. Okay, it's definitely enchanted.
Thrall says: Muln falls! And the Earthen Ring dies with him.
Shine swears unintelligibly. He has lapsed into his native accent.
Thrall says: You've failed us all! Deathwing has won! The world is doomed! Wake up!
Earthcaller Yevaa says: Wake up! Can you hear me? Wake up!
Dane shoots awake, sitting upright. He clutches the Lion Horn and finds that it's still intact. With a single exhalation, he turns to look for his squad mates.
Bran is looking even more disoriented than he was a minute ago.
Shine sits up abruptly, cradling the back of his neck like he anticipates pain. There… is not any? He drops his hand and gazes around, disoriented all over again.
Oranna is staring up at the protective sparkly circle in a dazed confusion. "Am I… inside a fireworks?" she asks no one in particular.
"No," Dane states curtly, pushing himself up. "We're in the belly of this thing."
Earthcaller Yevaa exclaims, “You're awake! Thank the elements! I'd almost lost all hope.”
Oranna sits up, clutching Dane's cape around her like a Shock Blanket. "Are… that… that did happen right? In our heads? In our… do we have other bodies now?"
Shine looks down at himself. "Fair certain this's the body I started with," he says. He looks a little troubled by the alternate possibility, though.
"What… in the Titans' name…" Bran's turqouise eyes are a bit wild. "Did they get me…? Is me mind gone…?"
Oranna shrugs at Bran. "I… well, we know one thing. Dane was right? We're all together, so if our minds are goin', it's all goin' together into the same… hallucination slash spiritual trip?"
That's… certainly a type of encouragin' thought thinkin'.
Dane shakes his head. "We're all still here. This is real." He decides with unwavering confidence.
Shine gets to his feet.
Oranna clambers to her feet awkwardly, and reaches out a hand to poke the sparkly bubble that surrounds them.
Shine winces and twists a little; his back makes a cracking sound. "Oh, aye," he says. "That's me."
"Well," Bran says with a shaky laugh, "If I'm goin' mad I couldna have picked better folk ta go there with."
Earthcaller Yevaa says, “We need you! You were stuck in some kind of nightmare. So are many of the other shamans.”
"Oh. A nightmare, again. All right. I've done that afore," Oranna says with a strange air of reassurance.
“Listen!” Yevaa urges. “Our plan is falling apart! Some of our shamans are channeling protective auras that should combat the beast’s digestive juices and keep you alive, but we need you to rescue the other shamans from the tentacles.”
"The digestive juices are new though," Oranna adds.
"So she did say digestive juices?" Shine asks as though Yevaa is not right there.
Dane grunts. "She did."
Shine looks down at himself again.
Oranna nods to Shine. "Aye. So, there we are. Digestive juices and nightmares and heartburn, jus' like an ordinary Sunday tha'… ye have…" Oranna tries.
"Well, aye, but not usually inside… a thing… like this." Shine looks around again.
Yevaa cries, “We won't be able to defeat Iso'rath without the other shamans! Please, save them!"
"All right, all right," Bran says irritably to Yevaa.
Bran looks like he is really sick of trying to save people for the moment. And not even sure this is real.
Dane spots one of the tentacles. "You lot stay here. That's an order. Be ready to fight."
He draws his sword and shield.
"Well come on then," Bran says, his tone somewhere between giddy and furious. "Let's go experience another horrible failure an' wake up somewhere else!"
Oranna pulls her borrowed cape tighter around her. "Stay here? Dane are ye… the juices?"
Shine stares at Dane like he's mad. "Are ye mad? Sir?" he asks politely. "Ye want backup out there?"
"I'll be back." Dane says before he rushes out to charge one of the tentacles.
"We can kill the things faster together than ye off alone," Oranna calls as he runs off.
Dane glances back and reconsiders. "You lot, on me. To that other shield!"
Shine sprints after Dane.
Oranna puts on a burst of speed.
Bran does backup.
They reach another glowy safety bubble, pursued by familiar black blobs. Shamans constricted in the grasp of tentacles cry out all around them.
Oranna fires a shot from inside the bubble.
"Wonder where the big twist will come…" Bran mutters.
"Bring that tentacle down! I've the blood on me!" Dane says.
Dane is battling another swarm of the black blood blobs. That’s the name of my emo band whose concerts no one wants to come to for some reason.
Shine vanishes. Nope, there he is, behind the tentacle. As Earthcaller Duarn falls free, Shine is already sprinting to the next.
"Oh…" Bran says as he spots Mylra in a tentacle’s grasp. "O' course. She'll be the one…"
Oranna sprints from bubble to bubble, firing accurate shots as she goes.
Bran looks genuinely confused when they manage to save Mylra.
Shine ducks back under a radiant bubble and looks around warily, then down at his armor. Welp. So much for formal.
"Back to Yevaa," Dane says. "Mind your step and stay behind me."
Shine stays behind Dane.
Bran looks around wildly. Then up over their heads.
"Right," Oranna agrees, as she looks up where Bran is looking.
"What's it gonna be…" Bran mutters to himself. "What's it gonna be…"
Yevaa says, “United with the Earthen Ring, we can survive the horrors of Iso'rath. Now it is time to turn our vengeance upon him!”
"Sure, why not," Oranna pants.
"Still gotta do me best, just in case…" Bran mutters.
Shine says something unintelligible. He is forgetting not to be a Tirasian peasant in public.
Far above them, a white snow leopard paces amidst a field of chewed up and downed tentacles. Oranna Marie Stormbreaker, where are you?
Yevaa says, “Iso'rath's brain is revealed! The shamans you've saved should keep you somewhat safe amidst his defenses.”
Dane squints, nearly covered in slime. He spits off to the side.
Yevaa says,”Strike at the brain and destroy Iso'rath!”
"A brain! Aye, that's… that's even better than an eye," Oranna says with relief.
Is it, Oranna? Is it?
Bran is expressionless, strangely focused and detached.
Dane glares at the translucent, throbbing brain of Iso'rath. "All that you've got. Butcher this thing!"
Shine turns to stare at what is apparently a brain. He nods at Atley.
Oranna is breathing perfectly evenly, her sniper scope gun trained unerringly on the giant electric brain.
Brannagen distributes heals with mechanical accuracy.
Shine curses and dances away from a black blob. He ducks under a shaman’s bubble-shield to catch his breath before vanishing back into the fray.
Oranna stays under a bubble to shoot at the giant brain, completely unaware of anything else happening around her.
"Lass," Bran says expressionlessly to Mylra, "I never did get up the guts ta ask ye ta dinner."
As Iso'rath suffers brain death, the united Wildhammer clan bravely swoops down into the maw to rescue the Cobalts.
Oh, come ON, Wildhammers. There was gonna be a Moment there.
Shine flinches away from a plummeting gryphon, prepared for a brand new threat, and then relaxes. He looks around for his fellows before reaching for a dwarf's hand.
Bran looks bewildered when the rescue gryphons arrive.
Dane nods before he tugs himself aboard.
They are whisked back to the Earthen Ring’s hilltop circle.
Even once they're out of the pit and under the blue sky of the Highlands, Bran still looks suspiciously at everything and everyone.
Dane looks over his squad and removes his helmet, revealing a head of hair drenched in sweat and slime.
"Status report," Dane demands.
Shine looks down at himself and then up at Dane expressionlessly. "Filthy. Sir."
Dane deadpans Shine before he scoffs with tired amusement and almost grins. Almost.
Shine almost smiles back. Almost.
Bran does not smile. At all.
Oranna pats herself down. And then she is run down by a snow leopard.
Befound licks at Oranna's face. "I'm fine!" Oranna calls from under the snow leopard. "Ach, lass, I'm fine, off afore ye do something ta the dress."
Earthcaller Torunscar shakes his head in amazement. “You saved many of my closest allies today. I can only imagine what horrors you witnessed within Iso'rath, but you have da tanks of all of da Earthen Ring.” He bows with gratitude.
Shine, rather uncharacteristically, sits down in the grass. Just casually gonna sit here a minute.
Bran watches Befound, blank-faced. Waiting.
Befound huffs in feline annoyance, and obediently gets off the dwarf. Oranna clambers back up to her feet, smoothing down the dress.
Dane grunts at Befound and marches over. "All in one piece then, are you?" he asks the leopard.
Befound puts one giant paw on Dane's boot.
Dane grunts. "There you are, then."
Oranna breathes out a loud sigh, and looks over worriedly at Bran. "Bran? Ye with us?"
Shine squints up at Bran. Is he with them?
"Aye, I'm here," Bran says grimly.
Bran hasn't even touched his sketchbook.
"Are ye okay? Ye havena even touched yer sketchbook." Oranna says the quiet part out loud.
That joke is inkie, copyright 2025, party chat.
"Ask me tomorra'," Bran answers Oranna solemnly.
Oranna nods. "I will. I mean it, Bran. I really will," she tells him.
"Mount up, you lot. We make for Highbank. Together." Dane tugs his slimy helmet back on.
Shine rises wearily to his feet and looks around for his gryphon, who is hanging back, possibly because of the smell. It approaches a little resentfully.
Oranna whistles for her gryphon, who arrives as always placidly and unconcerned. There, there, dearies. You're whole and alive, just keep going along. Oranna scrambles up and clings full bodily onto the saddle.
They fly for Highbank.
Dane glances down with dark amusement to see Iso'rath's tentacles deathly still, curling inward. He spits off the side of the gryphon and dabs his mouth with a soiled gauntlet.
Bran looks down at them too, the way one would watch a play where the monster is "dead" ten minutes before the end.
Dane lands in Highbank, slimy and tired. "Bloody fine work today. The Wildhammer are united, and we did teach that thing the meanings of pain and fear before the end. You lot are dismissed. That won't be a wedding I'll forget soon."
"I've been to worse," Shine says dryly.
Shine is divorced.
"I recommend time devoted to rest and recovery. I, for one, will see to my children after I deliver my report," Dane growls.
"Aye," says Bran. "A rest. I'll… see ye all soon."
"Might write a letter," Shine says to no one. "After a wash."
Dane grunts and looks to Oranna last.
Oranna sighs heavily. "I… I guess I'll go home fer a bit?" Oranna says. "Bran, where will ye be tomorrow?"
"I'll come back here ta Highbank," Bran says to Oranna. "The fortress."
"Do ye want ta come back with me ta Ironforge fer the night? I've a spare room," Oranna offers.
Dane looks to Bran and glares. Encouragingly.
Bran considers for a moment.
Then he just looks at the ground and nods.
"Ye can be both alone and not, if ye'd like," Oranna adds. "We can take the tram, aye?"
Bran nods gratefully.
"Travel well, you lot," Dane says before he turns and leaves.
"Alone an' not," Bran repeats. "Perfect."