|Of Ashen Wings|
The Ashen Wings
|Members||Wraithos, Theodor, Eshidu, Vectus, Zealius, Warren|
The Ashen Wings came into being directly after the events of Wrath Gate. Led by Shiryou, instead of continuing to be chained by the petty politics of the Forsaken, they focus on what they believe is the real battle - the conflict against the Lich King in Northrend. Undercity's jurisdiction be damned, for all they care.
Although they speak little of the reason for their formation, without a doubt it is linked to the betrayal that day. They consider themselves separate and apart from the Undercity; several of them are openly hostile towards those who are considered loyal.
Here lie my dreams. Mere dust in the wind.
Darkened mists part as a solitary figure moves slowly through the battlefield, robe trailing a cloak of ash in its wake. The steps are slow, heavy, burdened by yet unspoken anguish.
They say sleep banishes the worries and fears of the prior day. No such mercy greets this dawn.
A single breath of wind whispers over the fallen, the green that marks their grave murmuring its answer. Perhaps a single mercy then, that the power of life has cleansed away what might have been an even more terrible end.
The Runeblade is plunged into the soil before he bends to gather some of the ash into his fingers. Who was this? What were their dreams? Did they, too, feel the same pride and hope that he did as he beheld Horde and Alliance standing at each other’s side, heedless of the bad blood that has gone before, united once more to fact the true threat to the face of the world.
The claws open, letting the last of the dust scatter in the wind.
'Why' is the unspoken question. Why did this happen. Why did the Forsaken finally turn and betray their own? Why did they choose this one single moment in what could, would have been the greatest display of unity and triumph for the whole of Azeroth. Why?
Why did he not do anything to stop it?
The final thought will not fade easily. He knew this day would come. Knew, from the first moment the grinning apothecaries offered coin for samples of plague. Back then, he was angry. The promise of seeing the living perish gave dreams of revenge on those who abandoned him in life. But that anger has long since cooled, and he sees it for what it was. Grief.
No, he knew this was coming. And he did nothing to stop it.
Head falls back, staring upwards at nothing as his arms hang helplessly at his side. Ebony hair drifts in the frigid wind as the snowflakes begin to fall.
What have we done.
And then a glimmer catches the corner of his eye.
He tilts his head, frowning as the bright gleam blinds his sight. Something upon the ground, shining as the first rays of dawn strike flame-cleansed soil. Pausing only to pull his blade free he moves towards the light, eyes narrowing as he beholds what it is.
A single sword, untarnished, lies upon the ground. Though ash lies scattered over it, where the sun touches the blade shines white and pure, defiant in the gloom. His head tilts again – where the ash has fallen a ghostly wing has taken shape, wrapping around the blade.
And then he sees what he must do.
Enough. It is time to do what they should have done from the very beginning. No longer can they bow to the petty politics of a society as rotten and corrupt as the shells they are trapped in - they must turn their eyes back to the North, unburdened by the vicious whims of their people, relying only upon their own skills instead of stolen knowledge from the Scourge.
Vengeance would come, from both Horde and Alliance. Their hatred will be penance for his fool blindness. His failure to act.
He glances back at the ground, at the sword, the enveloping wing. A symbol.
A single claw reaches to the ground, traces a line to encircle it all.
Wings will take flight.
Brill is considered the 'stomping ground' of the Wings. They tend to congregate there after their various battles against the Scourge, or just generally to raise hell. It is rumoured that they have somehow managed to obtain a derelict necropolis for their base in Northrend, but such rumours remain unconfirmed.
Tending to disregard the more minor threats, the Wings often lend their help in attacking the stronger minions of the Scourge head on. They have aided in the siege of Naxxramas, and quietly make plans to help the dwarves in Ulduar.
Contrary to popular belief, they're not a drinking club. Mind you, given the amount they can consume on any given, angst-ridden night, it's hardly surprising.
First and foremost, the Ashen Wings are a roleplay guild. Our RP tends to be mature - many of our characters have been utterly twisted by the Scourge and have the personalities to match. If you're of the faint of heart or don't like unpleasant language, we might not be for you. On the other hand, if you adore being the gritty, dark side of the Forsaken, a flawed character doing their damndest best with the unlucky lot they've drawn, and flipping the finger at the Royal Apothecary Society in turn, might well have found some drinking buddies.
Those seeking to join are best off trying to hunt the elusive members down. Convince them you have what it takes to go toe to toe with the Scourge and they might well take you under their wing (pun not intended).
We do raid as part of a guild alliance with Coven.
We generally ask is for our members to be generally pleasant and decent out of character. In character, you can be the little bastard you've always wanted to be.
For further information, contact Shiryou, Cthuchik, Theodor/Thanso or Eshidu/Kuriel in game.
As a note - not everyone in the guild is an Ashen Wing. The name 'Of Ashen Wings' was chosen to allow those characters who happened to associate with us to join - so you may find characters within oAW who aren't of them and may even in fact be their antagonists.