Into the Dark Portal

[Mogonar]

(( Zoning in to Outland for the first time this weekend really inspired my RP spirit. I've had a bit of an idea for Mogonar's character before I started but it all came together when I stood infront of that portal for the first time. It doesn't have a lot of hooks for follow ups, consider it a character introduction :) ))

I have not been on this world long yet I now stand poised to leave it. Praise be to the light that in our darkest hour our exodus brought us to a world so full of heroes. Before our keep was wrenched from our grasp by that devil Kael’thas, I wasn’t much of a man. While our people battled against the invading Blood Elves, I could do nothing against them. My connection to the light was weak, my sword arm slow, and my arcane acumen poor. Guilt overtakes me when I begin to think that had I been the man I am today when the Keep fell, could we have driven them off?

Alas, these musings are for when men have the luxury of time. Our crash near the land we came to know as Kalimdor gave me no choice in the matter: I must take up the mantle of my people and join the struggle. It is strange that I found my strength in the hands of those we pity for their loss of the light. The Broken we call them yet the power of Nobundo may turn the tide against the legion. The elements are a cruel master and demand much of those that would call upon them but I found strength in their challenges. I subdued their rage and earned their forgiveness for my people. Now their power fuels me: the strength of the earth protecting me from my foes, the rage of fire filling my body with energy, the unseen power of the wind laying waste to those who stand against me, and the soothing water to mend my allies. I am more than just a draenei now. I am Shaman.

I serve many masters now, more than just the four elements. I have taken on the mantle of the Hand of Argus, ancient protectors of my people. Those who don their colors carry with them the terrible burden of our people’s hope. But these are not the only oaths I have sworn. Soon after I left my people and began to explore this great land I met with a group of heroes whose fame had spread far across this land. Signs of their conquest abound. The black dragonflight’s twin masters lay dead by their hand, their heads strung up in Stormwind. The corrupted green dragonflight also fell by to their might. Even an elder god himself was no match for this band of brothers and sisters. Their leaders, paladins of the light, stood as a beacon of virtue before all others.

They were The Eleventh Hour.

Long have they battled in the only place I even knew as home: Draenor. With their help, I know stand ready to join them. Long have I worn the tabard of the Hand of Argus. Now it is time to wear a new tabard. With great care I remove the long white cloth from my pack, replacing it with the battle worn symbol of my people. Their emblem is simple: a black cross. As I fasten my belt around my new colors, I look around at these Blasted Lands. If only the Legion had known that one day this portal would no longer carry their invasion of hate but rather their undoing. As I return home, let my battle cry echo on the winds so the Legion knows what seeks them. For Argus, for Draenor…

“FOR HEROES THAT RISE IN THE ELEVENTH HOUR!”

[Arzamas]

The lack of guard rails or safety precautions of any kind indicated to Arzamas that the lift to the Aldor Rise was not to be used for anything short of an emergency. Odd how hopping on the back of a giant wild gryphon should be considered safer in nearly all respects. So many things in Outland could be called "odd". Most especially people like Arzamas.

As adventurers and entrepreneurs poured through the Dark Portal, it was curious to see how quickly people adapted to the new surroundings. And how the environment adapted to this new element. The people of Shattrath City, simply called The City by some, made great endeavours to welcome the newcomers. It was amazing how quickly advances in magic made on both worlds allowed the creation of portals between them. The great centers of magical energy on Azeroth acted as soft spots in reality's facade, allowing minature Portals to be punched through from The City to places like Ironforge or Thunderbluff.

It seemed that as of late, the only constant thing in life was change. Changing world, changing people, everything becoming different. Arzamas had to wonder, how did the denizen's of Outland feel about these changes? And how did the Draenai who crashed on Azeroth see their old world? The Aldor, who allied with the Sha'ttar, and the Kurenai who at first were at best uninterested in the affairs of the Alliance; how did they treat their returning brothers and sisters?

[Mogonar]

A light rain trickled through the canopy of Terrokar forest as Mogonar rode towards the city. The plink plonk of the drops on the armor of his Elekk seemed to keep time with the rapid pace of the beast's massive hooves. His white tabbard shone in the light of the crystals above albeit a bit dirty with evidence of his battles thus far in Outland. He had wanted to ride to Shattrath as soon as he arrived but the plight of the valiant Honor Hold defenders was too much to ignore. They stood as the front line against the Legion's return to Azeroth and any effort to hold that front was not only needed but vital.

Cresting the top of a hill, the pillar or light extending from the center of the great city came into view. While the light of the Naaru never touched him as deep as others, the sight of a bastion of good in this forsaken land would lend comfort to any enemy of the Legion. Driving his heels into his trusty steed, he rushed toward the gates. He had heard much about this great city from his brothers and sisters in the Eleventh Hour. It had become a nexus for not only heroes but all those displaced by the constant war raging around them. Two of these refugees raced towards his mount as he cleared the gates. Neither more than 10, the draenei and human child smiled wide as they saw him enter.

"Look Lyssa! He's in the Eleventh Hour! Did you hear they slew Gruul the Dragonkiller?" the young draenei boy cried out.

"Duh Kaaru, everyone knows that! What's your name? Are you a paladin? Do you know Cathela?" the human girl asked as she began to pull on his leg.

"I am shaman, girl. But I…" The girl didn’t give him a chance to finish.

"A shaman! Cool! Do you know Leriin? She's so awesome and pretty too!"

"Luxury is way cooler! And Hurcules could kick both Cathela and Leriin's butts easy! He's invincible!"

"Nu uh!" "Yes huh!" "You're stupid!" "YOU're stupid!"

"Tell him he's wrong!" Both children looked up Mogonar with wide eyes. Never one for dealing with children his mind raced searching for an answer. "Well… um… the Eleventh Hour doesn't concern itself with who is better. We all stand against the Legion as one."

Clearly unsatisfied with his answer the children resumed their bickering. Seizing the opportunity, Mogonar rode on towards the Terrace of Light.

[Cathela]

"Luxury is way cooler! And Hurcules could kick both Cathela and Leriin's butts easy! He's invincible!"
I see that I'm going to have to fire my PR staff.