The Shatterspear Scribe.

October 15th, 2013 by Zundra · Guild storylines


Dusk came and the stars began to appear again. Two sisters with little love left for one another stood on Darkspear soil each with a male astride them. After brief introductions, Dzivah got to the point. She didn’t feel she had much time left. She gestured with her chin to the Shatterspear male.

“You. ‘Laikah be telling Dzivah many things of you.”

The Shatterspear male glanced uneasily at her. He’d heard the stories enough to know that she wasn’t a short fall from losing her temper. He thought it best to be obsequious in the circumstances. “I hope she be tellin’ you no falsehoods mon, I be but a simple Priest on a simple quest.”
“Quest, eh? Be that so? Dzivah has a quest of her own. Maybe we can help one another.”

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September 8th, 2013 by Zundra · Events

It was a mad idea. It was even crazier putting it into action.

Not only was he putting his own life at risk, but he was endangering her life mere months away from the culmination of a life’s work; the most important prophecy was showing the first hopeful signs of bearing reality.

Dzivah. Zun’dra looked down from the stone nook that kept him from Kor’kron view and waited. Soon she came into view,  her wild head of hair and distinct gait sending a shiver up his spine. Would he ever see her again and explain himself? Flanked by Ohiska and her mate Drek’tal, she was surely in safe hands. But that didn’t comfort him any.

Suddenly, he heard her wild shrieks. “Aaaagh! Help me!”

She was racing towards several Kor’kron, clutching her stomach. Was she stabbed? Injured? He inhaled, asking the spirits to talk to him. Relax, they said. She drank Eel venom.

Eel venom? He shook his head. Was this strategy? Not likely; Dzivah was a rash and spontaneous Zulfi. She likely didn’t plan this and drank it to improve her juju. The consequences could have been deadly. Zun’dra could scarcely believe what he saw next.


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A strange request.

September 2nd, 2013 by Zundra · Guild storylines

Dzivah slumped to the bottom of the cave floor, sweat running down her neck and cheeks. As soon as the dancing had stopped, her brew slowed its boil down to a contented simmer. “Sh-should be a good one” she gasped. Ohiska and Drek’tal shared a few uneasy looks as she climbed to her feet and began scooping the brew into glass vials. Each vial was stained and cloudy with scuff marks.

Ohiska sat forward, eyeing the jade colored liquid as it sloshed noisily into each vial. “Will this be dangerous? Are there any side effects to take into account?”

Drek’tal scoffed. “No more dangerous than a Kor’kron axe stuck between your eyes.”

A large bubble exploded from the cauldron as if in protest to the question. Dzivah shrugged. “Ohiska. This brew works by suggestion. Of course there be danger. But you do not have the luxury of being cautious.” She handed a vial to him. “If it works, Dzivah gives you the rest.”


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Four daggers and a pact.

August 17th, 2013 by Zundra · Events, Guild storylines

Zun’dra tipped his head back and let the last few drop of rum glide down his throat. Eyeing the empty canteen, he chuckled to himself about how he no longer regretted setting the rest of it alight just a few hours earlier. Nodding in self-affirmation, he tossed the canteen unceremoniously over his shoulder and peered down at the sack full of salted meat by his side.


His spirit was buoyant after the hunting party, but it was not from the bounty, nor the impassioned violence and vandalism that preceded it. Zun’dra took out the ornate dagger that tonight found a new home in his belt and fingered the hilt tenderly. He debated naming it, but thought that perhaps it was yet too soon to be ostentatious about so beautiful a gift. The three mons who had accompanied him on the hunt had likely not named theirs, nor yet considered the significance of their coming to be in possession of such fine blades.

Zun’dra smiled as he observed the terrifying visage of his painted mask reflected in the blade.

It has begun.

The Ai’loa have come to claim their rights.

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A hunting party.

August 13th, 2013 by Zundra · Events


Posters are hung on the walls of a makeshift community hall in Razor Hill, appealing to those who prefer a bit of… sport.

Who will answer the call? Dambala twists his serpentine form in the sands of time once more!

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The Story so far…

August 3rd, 2013 by Zundra · Beginnings

“On the skin of ancestral land
buried by forest furs
shall come a collision of two souls;
the joiner shall grasp
the fallow child’s hand
and the snake will bind power to the whole.”

All Zun’dra had left were the words and his instincts. They had been read over many times, committed to memory and recitable at will. At times the words lost their efficacy, or gained a distinct flavor that dispossessed the original interpretation, but it always came back to the same imperative: find the fallow child.

Find her, he must.


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