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Message: <blockquote data-quote="EvolutionKB" data-source="post: 4638798" data-attributes="member: 47833">Lorn SpellWright, Xandren, and Stellan Scarhide[sblock=Lorn]Lorn was fighting for his life against the undead, his battle magics shaping the field around him.  His allies were falling like flies, and an arrow took the ally to his left in the throat.  As soon as his comrade hits the ground, his form twitched twice, then stood once more.  His ally’s eyes shown red, and didn’t seem to care about the arrow sticking from his throat.  The newly formed zombie reaches out to pull the mage to the ground, but it never got a chance.  A blast of electricity arcs from somewhere behind it and splits it in half, and Lorn is next in line, who is blinded by the arc of lightning as well as the exploding gore from the undead’s destruction.  Next thing he knows he is coughing and gagging on a combination of sand and seawater.  After rolling over and ridding his lungs of the water, he realizes he is not in Cyre anymore.  He is laying on a beach, soaking wet.  Half buried ships litter the beach, and more are half sunk in the reef offshore.  He stands and takes in his surroundings, surprised to see a huge warforged, partially made of stone, not steel, come out of a gap in the hull of a ship nearby.  It is holding a large blade in two hands.  The warforged sees the mage as well and stares at him in curiousity and perhaps a bit of untrust.[/sblock] [sblock=Xandren]Xandren was tall, taller than the elves that he fought alongside, but not nearly as tall as the giant that he served, who called the battle behind him.  The jungle was loud with the eerie sounds of battle against the quori.  There was the normal cries of the mortal deaths of drow and other warforged slaves, but the quori fell differently.  They just as often died with a mournful wail as they dissolved into pools of slime.  Fighting them made him uneasy but he had no choice.  The one they were currently fighting had pincer like claws, slithered on a thick tail, and had a mass of eyes on it’s forehead.  It’s very prescence was not natural.  He raised his great blade over his head, and he smelled an ozone odor, then just as suddenly an arc of lightning struck his raised blade.   Then he awoke, it was dark, but light poured through in an crack in the wall.  The sounds of the jungle was around him.  He felt around, and found the comfort of his blade.  In the meager light, he could see the tip was scorched from the lightning.  He walks into the light, and gathers his senses, then stares, on guard, at a pale frail looking creature, that seems to be gathering himself as well.  He holds a staff,  but seems harmless, but still it is strange to the warforged.[/sblock][sblock=Stellan]Stellan was climbing a sheer cliff, hand over hand and foot over foot.  Taking his time, he was stalking his prey.  The bandits had taken the long way up the ridge, up the easy footpath.  Stellan was climbing the cliff with other Wardens of the Wood and once they cleared the top would set an ambush for the bandits.  Looking to the sky, clouds were gathering in the sky, and a storm was brewing.  Thunder echoed nearby.  Suddenly, lightning arced between the clouds, and then to the top of the cliff, where an avalanche was started by the force.  One great boulder was rumbling right for him and the shifter tensed waiting for the impact.  Light lanced into his eyes and he wonders how he escaped death...or maybe those Flame priests were right all along.  Thinking himself captured by the bandits he held still and listened around him.  No, the sounds were different here.  Birds could be heard, but they were not the familiar bird calls of the woodlands where he lived.  The crash of water against sand could be heard.  He cracked open an eye cautiously and appeared to be in the crow’s nest of a ship that rested at an angle.  Impossible.  But it was true.  He stood and looked around.  He was indeed on a ship, but the vessel was buried in the sand of a beach.  Other ships were nearby, also half-buried in the sand as well as half sunk offshore.  He takes in his surroundings from his great height, and can barely make out the shimmer of water running down the beach from the jungle beyond the sands.  That was good, he was immensely thirsty.  Astonished he looks down, and notices two more figures below him, they don’t act like they’ve seen him yet.  One is a warforged, massive, and not sleek, made partially of stone.  The other is a young human, wet from the surf, clutching a staff.  The pair seems to have just noticed each other and are still blinking in surprise(well, not the 'forged).  Further down the beach, opposite the stream two other figures can be seen.[/sblock]</blockquote>

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