His ways are strange, though you may not grasp his concepts, does not mean he is stranger still. Misunderstood is better a word, for no mind is singularly the same. Though his life is never justified, his heart can be relied with trust. 
Certain moments bite back, still he fights without slack. Ghosts of fallen hopes past, does his best to holdfast. His childhood unaligned, he tries to pay it no mind. For if he is to give in, he would have no world to live in.

Luke warm is his life, bitter cold is the strife. Chilling to the bone, his thoughts he yearns to hone. Better still is his complexion, living out of separation. Broken is the words people speak, for inside he is all but weak.

Knows not where his life has yet to go, yet he will get there, steady and slow.


The fight is always strongest before the tide turns. It can seem distant and not related in anyway, but with the wisp of a breath it engulfs you. You struggle and waver with footing and balance, hoping to regain the upperhand. Of all the obstacles that have been and yet to be overcome, this fight seems the hardest, perseverance is the key. The front must be held, it must not waver in the slightest. Mind, faith, body, soul, emotion, focus..all work as one. The end is never known but can be felt and decided how.

Life is a strong force to be reckoned with, sometimes merciful, sometimes merciless. In the end, it's the individual struggle that is the most decisive and most gratifying, but in the same instance can be the most exhausting.

Rough Stuff

Fire meets steel. Water meets wheel. Life defeats death. Escape the last breath. Soul rejoices. Song of a million voices. Chanting of the heart. Chosen from the start. Choices regretted. Faith forever fetted.

Physical meets steel. Skeptical meets unreal. Devices are one. The breath forever gone. Machine needs not the breath. Flesh lays for death. Heart beats its last. Memory endeavors everlast. Electric veins. Nature loses earthly reins.

Unkind words are spoken. Heart is evermore broken. No healing. Numbed feeling. Belayer lives on. Reciever passes on. Old meets the crass. Eternal joy becomes the lass. Old fades away. Eternal pain forever to stay.

Dark engulfed by light. The rising blinding light. Middle shines down. Lit path all around. End is very near. Last shimmer held so dear. Beauty in final daily bow. Darkness creeping now. Darkness engulfs light. Falling body shoots in flight.

Youth fades. Strength wades. Bones crack. Muscles slack. Hair falls. Heart stalls. Sight darkens. Eternity harkens. Body immoveable. Mind unrenewable. Physical ceases. Burden eases. Spirit dances. Faith prances. Familiar faces. Almighty embraces.

Sober is the wise. May wisdom forever rise. Drunken is the fool. Poison is his chosen tool.

Skin is aging. Sin is phaging. Lust to burn. Youth to yearn. The seed is sewn. Forever form is thrown. Body to mother. Life is felt asmother. Smiling face is brough into light. Into it's life is brought the fight.

Hardrocker - Part 1

   He was born into a cold world full of magic and wonder. This pup of a Dwarf grew up into an Axen Hunter, now revered with the great Kingdom of Ironforge. He had been thustly dubbed Hardrocker, One of Stout Pride. His mother, Glorunn, and his father, Ginnar, were both Dwarves of the Great Anvil.

   He had always thought his name odd due to the sheer number of context related names that his own Dwarven people had chosen for their own names. Hardro-cker, it sounded like that of a Human naming a character in a great play, a Human that was trying very hard to fit in. But it was the name given to him by the Great One himself, so he never gave a thought beyond mere curiousity.

   Thoughout most of his life he had adventured past his childhood land of Ironforge, through the Great Lake land of Loch Modan, roughed the fire-engulfed Burning Steppes, and swam the great ocean in search of adventure. He had heard local rumour of the frozen-heart returning to the land, but he had not yet confirmed it. He presently had made his way to the other realm known as the Outlands. Here, the rumors grew louder and more solidified in truth. He would track down more truth to the flying rumors and legends, but first he needed rest and repair for his weapon and armor.

   The main capitol of the Outlands was a great city known as Shattrath, a city that thrived with both populations of the Great Horde and Mighty Alliance. The Alliance is a united group which included Dwarves, Elves of the Night, Draenai, Gnomes, and, of course, Humans. The oath-sworn enemy of the Alliance is that of the Horde, a population of Trolls, Orcs, the Forsaken Undead, self-proclaimed "Blood Elves", and the Tauren, a people of Bovine lineage from what he had been told by his father. He had heard many stories as a lad of how the war between the two great groups had claimed many lives on both sides and how much hatred had been sewn into the hearts of the peoples on each front. One such memory that echoed in his mind was that of the Draenai, the alien yet wondrous race of beings that had come to reality in a great ship wreck that shook the very foundations of Azeroth. Such tragedies had befallen such great beings in the past but for some reason this incident spoke to his own heart greatly...
*All World of Warcraft story references copyright Blizzard Entertainment. Plotline, character, and events created by me.

Hardrocker - Part 2

  The torrent of fire overtook him so suddenly he barely had time to spring forward and meet the ground with his right shoulder slamming hard into the alien dirt. A combination of crippling pain and burning agony met him the moment he hit the ground. He could still feel the heat as the pillar burned to the sky not but 5 feet from his footing, he quickly crawled away a bit more as to not be a burnt snack for any Fel Orc that may wander this way. He slowly rose to his feet grabbing his shoulder, it hurt not due the impact of the sudden dodge but more from the burnt skin that his chain mail had provided little protection from. The rest of his body was still intact at least and his feet still writhed from the heated ground. His boots provided needed comfort as the fiery-protection magic that had been embued within them flowed, up his toes and around his ankles. He thought it too bad the magic was only simple enough to absorb most of the heat in his feet not the rest of his body, still, they helped wondrously on this charred landscape.

 One minute he was navigating his way to Honor Hold chewing on some "Deviant Delight", the next he was almost nearly engulfed by a fiery pillar that shot from the ground faster than any Gnomish rocket. He would need to watch his footing more carefully, less he be incinerated by one of the native-flameshots. He assured himself, though, that this land may hold much more surprises of the lethal, and most certainly heated, variety. The thing he feared the most, however, was the tribes of Fel Orcs that littered these hills and craters. Aside from the hellish boars and golems, the Fel posed the most potential threat.

 He pulled his axe from it's resting place on his back and gripped it tightly with both hands as he stared at the reflection of himself in the magnificently designed head. The metal that the two-hander had been crafted out of was harder than mithril but had been sharpened to such a point that he could not run his finger along the crescent edge an inch without drawing his own blood. The axe had been enchanted with a type of magic, of which he could not remember the name, that granted him a substantial amount of invigoration if the need for straight melee in combat ever arose, an invigoration he had yet to experience. He was not one for melee himself but it was good to have a strong backup, he relied more on his trusted and proven gun, a gun that had been passed down throughout his family. His father had once traveled with the great Nesingwary, a being of great popularity from his travels and adventures as well his eye for taking out a rabbit at 300 yards with but a single shot. Nesingwary had complimented his Father on the rifle after experiencing the power of the weapon first-hand during an escape from hostile Centaur territory in the dusty land of Desolace.

 His right arm shot with agony causing him to let the axe drop, it's head hitting the ground kicking up dirt. He slowly and carefully brought the head over his right shoulder using his left hand, he fastened the axe home after truly realizing how difficult it may be to wield the weapon in one armed combat if the need ever arose, which he hoped, for the time being, would not. He chugged a potion, that he had picked up from a goods dealer in the great city of Shattrath, to the last drop. A few moments later a good portion of the shooting pain had numbed to dullness. It was a great reprieve but his arm was still pretty useless especially if it came to hand-to-hand combat. Putting away the leaded vial that had held the potion, he started walking again slowly but keeping an eye open for potential threats.

 After about 3 hours of trudging and checking the landscape for enemies, barely escaping the sight of a rumbling behemoth of a machine that seem to spew forth the blackest smoke he had ever witnessed, he spotted a ruined stone building that could have once been a great fortress. He saw movement within and around the ruins, movement of what he could make out to be humanoids. Staying low and moving slowly towards the ruins, he wanted a better look, before getting his hopes too high. He moved about 20 feet closer to his target area, knelt on his left knee and started to focus on what he thought to be the middle of the ruins. His vision went blurry momentarily and his head began to spin, he felt his mind being pulled away from inside his head. He opened his eyes to a vision of a green fog encompassing his new sight. He was in the middle of the ruins looking at what looked-like a temporary stronghold for humans and night elves, he also spotted a few dwarves of lighter skin than his own. They all wore a tabard over their chests that carried the symbol of the golden lion head, the symbol of the Alliance. His mind reeled with excitement of finally locating what seemed to be his destination, Honor Hold.

 A violent pain shot through his floating mind, he felt his essence being suddenly jerked back. He grasped his charred shoulder tightly as the pain overtook him. His vision went clear again only to darkened a moment later. He felt very light-headed as he suddenly felt the world around him begin to spin very fast. He lost his balance and fell to his knees, thereafter doubling over in pain and dizziness. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud, kicking up a small cloud of dust and rocks. As his brain was wracked with thoughts about his current predicament, the pain became greater than his mind could stand of it's own threshold. His eyes fell close, however, before he had completely lost conscienceness he thought he had thought he'd heard a rousing call for arms coming from the fortress. A moment later, he heard footsteps approach as his mind went quiet and fell into an unconscience sleep...

*All World of Warcraft story references copyright Blizzard Entertainment. Plotline, character, and events created by yours truly.

*New* Hardrocker Side-Story: Tamed!

   His fingers ached from the kick of the blast, but his shot had missed by a hair. This enemy was too fast for his Dwarven eye. The beast moved so fast it seemed as if, for a second, the creature was warping from point to point. He concentrated on the movements of the predator, trying to work out its’ pattern. It was now just a few feet away and he had a few seconds before the beast lunged at him, its’ gaping jaw aimed straight at his torso. To draw his axe would mean he would need more time, but he had not the amount needed, so he quickly positioned his rifle between him and beast as it lunged. He firmly wrapped his hands around the still scorching hot barrel and the butt of the gun. The beast clamped with all it ferocity around the middle of the gun, barely missing it’s preys thumb. Using the force of his now regained control of the attack, Hardrocker twisted the weapon in a downward as to pin the predator on the ground, but the beast was too quick for his action. It clawed at the ground trying to keep it’s stance while the prey flailed and twisted the gun in wild motions. This had to end one way or another.

   Hardrocker on the spur of a thought began to chant an ancient hunter recitation that had been said to calm certain beasts of the wild. His eye focused on the angry eyes of the creature, staring him dead in the eye. He focused his thoughts into the chant and channeled his compassion into his stare. The beast growled in contempt, attempting to break the spell being forced upon it. Its’ mind started to numb, its’ muscles and gaze began to lax. The creature started to give a bellowing roar but the impulse was interrupted by a fortuitous command from its’ prey. "You are mine, creature! Calm yourself," Hardrocker commanded to his now nearly defeated mark. The command held such a force of words and will that the bloodlust that had momentarily burned within the beast started to ebb. The creature slowed it’s breathing, it’s heart-rate began to slow as quickly as it’s breathing. Hardrocker held his stare and chant firm upon the beast, still keeping the beast at bay with his family heirloom. A few more strong words is all that was needed to finally bring the beast under his full control. The predator slipped into a state of relaxation and settled on the ground before Hardrocker, its’ head rested on its’ paws, eyes closed.

   Hardrocker stared at the beast in amazement, he could hardly believe what he had just accomplished. He had single-handedly tamed his first creature of somewhat exotic origin. Thoughts went through his mind of what he should do with the beast, it would certainly make a very powerful ally along his journey, but was it worth the risk of it going berserk on him in his sleep? He thought hard. Thoughts of caution but also of pride bombarded his mind, he come to a conclusion. He visually searched the beasts' form for anything that may be a sign of gender, he even went so far as to lift its' hind-quarters, but there was nothing. At least nothing he could make out to be an undeniable gender marker. He rallied a thought of names, respectful and strong."I'll call you...Corvine." It was a good a name as any but seemed to encompass any gender related quandaries he had about the beast.

   The battle for his new found ally had depleted all his energy and will down to a point of needing to rest for half a day or so. He set-up a small camp around the area and let the beast rest, it had not opened it's eyes since the brawl. He wondered about the state of the creature, it had still been breathing slowly in and out. He convinced himself that the chant he had employed upon the creature possibly needed some time to sink into the beasts' own mind and the state it was in now was very normal, though he wouldn't know for sure until he awoke. He laid down on his newly made ground-bunk for a few hours, all the while switching glances between Corvine's somber form and the alien nightsky. After finally letting his own body relax and take-in the day, he slowly drifted into a comfortable sleep, hoping he would wake up for at least one more adventure.
*All World of Warcraft story references copyright Blizzard Entertainment. Plotline, character, and events created by yours truly.

*New* Ginnar - Part 1

   *Rough Draft*
   Ginnar had never known what had happened to his beloved. She had always been very adept with the arts of Magic and she had chosen a road of Enchantment, magically enhancing various objects as a service and a way of small wealth. Nearly 3 years earlier on this very day she had left Ironforge by way of Gryphon heading towards Stormwind to catch a local ship that was to make port at Valiance Keep. During the three weeks that he had set out and searched for any word or sign of the love of his life, he had acquired some details that she had indeed made the ship that left Stormwind that day, but had no way of knowing if she had gotten off at Valiance Keep or not. The local port-master had notified him a couple of days later, only to find out that the ship had made port at Valiance Keep but any that had gotten off that day was unaccounted for due to the ships log being lost during a freak storm on the way back to Stormwind. This was all he had learned, the facts had mulled in his head thousands time to this day. Many reasons had bulleted his mind as to why she would have just disappeared on them. Had there been another Dwarf that she had come to care for? No, there was no way or how of how that could be. She loved both her betrothed and son more than any other aspect in her life. They had spent many years making each other happy on momentous levels. Sure they had had their spiffs and intolerable moments of each other, but when a Dwarf took their vows and raised a pup together they were undeniably iron-clad to each other. Not even the Mighty Ones themselves could break the bond that they had written on each others’ heart.      
  His mind began to tire as the facts of his beloveds’ disappearance began to present themselves again. His eyelids began to weigh on him, so he finally gave in to his deep need to rest and he fell into a slumber he had hoped not to wake from at least until the next morning. A good night’s rest is what this old dwarf needed, rest and peace of mind. The previous weeks’ journey had taxed his both his energy and drive to continue forward. He had out-ran a group of bloodthirsty Orcs that for no reason had wanted his head on a pike, from what he could gather from their distant shouts at the time. He had also braved a treacherous river that had nearly swallowed him up after he had slipped while trying to cross a fallen tree. it seemed a good shortcut at the time and would have saved him 20 miles to his destination, the shipping settlement of Booty Bay. The fall and swim, however, had set him back a good 5 hours, nearly 11 miles, given his current rate. He was now about a days’ journey from the settlement and he was relentless in his footing to reach the port.
*All World of Warcraft story references copyright Blizzard Entertainment. Plotline, character, and events created by yours truly.