Chronicles of Quizotic

Well, i have writing as a hobby besides gaming (particulary wow) so i decided to make "repots" of guild events trough the eyes of my character. If people are interested, i will post some stories about onyxia and molten core trough my eyes :)

progress
Added chapters Diary of a Grey Troll and Journey into the Lair.

Chronicles of Quizotic

Diary of a grey troll

To whoever may find these diaries.
The author of these withered pages is none other then the ledgendary spiritspeaker, Noc’Tuszala Greytusk, the sole survivor of the ancient Greytusk family, proud noble aristocrats of the Darkspear Tribe. Every survivor is scarred by his past, and I am no exception. Tired. Oh so tired of death. Of war, of battle. My family, the heart I was struggling for was taking from me for the one thing I thought I Where fighting for. Honour. But lets not go into details at this time, for there is enough room on the upcoming pages. The adventures of a old spiritspeaker who saw it all. The chronicles of a fight without a journey nor a destination. The story of a troll that is dead nor living. My story.

Journey into the lair.

There I was, living in myself. Staring at a horizon without end. The pure void of the stretching starlight reminded me of myself. My sun has set, and went on a journey without a meaning. I took a deep breath and sighed. What a good is a life at nightfall? Pondering about these things, my face was left in the physical plane with no sign of expression. For a outsider, it would have to look like I was deeply meditating. Maybe I was. However, that’s a trivial question.

Suddenly, parting me and my daydreams, the voilent sound of thundering hooves approached my cliff at the deserted shores of desolace. The disturbing sound was coming from a cloacked figure riding a demonic horse engulfed in the very flames from the netherworld it came from. Unlike normal mounts, this horse was trying to reject the iron grip of his master, making enraged noises and running faster then any healthy horse would. Sadly, the rider didn’t show any mercy for the demon and yelled something back at the horse in a tongue I could not understand. The tongue of demons. Acting like I didn’t see the duo coming, I kept on staring while listening to the alien sounds they made. As fast as it appeared, the demon horse dissapeared with a load crack. The rider swiftly off the demon like it was a daily routine. After a few cautious steps, the mysterious rider halted, and took the time to inspect my trance a bit better. Sadly, I didn’t give him the pleasure to interrupt my meditation.

’Your tracking skills amaze me, master Rommel. Wherever I may hide, you seem able to find me. Tell me, my young friend, what do you want from the grey speaker?’
A confused and surprised look later, Rommel responded in a slow, cold voice. ‘I’d prefer if you would use your mouth for talking. No matter how many times we go trough it, I’ll never get used to a voice inside my mind’. I turned around, and grinned widely. My grin was awnsered, and Rommel took of his cloack and showed his menacing body. Dressed in highly powefull warlock robes and geared with two magical horns on top of his head, he looked more wicked then any sight that’s ever crossed my eyes. Long, green spiked hear covered his rotten head, with maggot holes and a pale skin decorating his face. For a undead of the forsaken, Rommel was suprisingly kind and generous. No wonder Rommel was one of the few Forsaken that I tolerated in my presence. ‘Its good to see you, my friend. I’ve decided to visit you myself instead of sending a minion. A quest of this scale cannot be trusted in a demon’s hand.’ I sighed. ‘We be goin’ to smite sum demons again? Ah, da daily routine...’ ‘I wouldn’t call dragonslaying a routine.’ Rommel’s grin widened. ‘Dragons… dragons… I haven’t be seeing those in a while mon’! Are we finally goin’ for da big boss ?’ I answered enthousiasticly. ‘Indeed. The brotherhood of quizotic is planning on striking the blackdragonflight where it will hurt the most, by taking out they’re brood mother, Onyxia. Judging from your ever growing grin, I can assume you will company me to her lair personally?’ ‘A grin be sayin’ more den a thousand words, mon’. I replied.

And with that, we departed. Between two friends, words are useless. Just as useless as describing a path that’s described over a hunderd times. It took us a recordtime of 3 days to travel from Desolace to Dustshallow Marsh. No breaks, with speed accelerated by the thrill of excitement. After months of preperation, my guild, the brotherhood of quizotic, was finally ready to take up the honour to strike down the broodmother Onyxia. High will we hold her head and loud will we cheer our victory. Finally, my journey has come accros a obstacle of meaning. It is those honours that make a rusty life worthy of finishing.__________________

I liked it. Perhaps Ill try something like this after I do something meaningfull with my new undead mage.

This story is quite nice.