Valon

From Create Your Own Story

Current revision as of 22:23, 4 November 2009

(I'll work on this story much more when I'm finished with my Butcher in the Leaves story. If you have any questions on lore, please go to for the wiki, which could provide you everything for the background of this game. Please note that the wiki was written for the Warcraft 3 roleplay rather then the CYOA, so you may want to ignore the gameplay parts of the wiki. Any questions not answered there, or if you have a suggestion, you can contact me about it. Thanks everyone! --Holygiant 15:46, 24 October 2009 (PDT))

Little by little, the Imperials were making progress. Carting wooden boxes, back and forth, to and fro, from the wagon and to the wagon.

Being an Elite is tough these days. Especially when the rain pummels against your encampment. You overlook the extremely fit and heavily armored Imperials and laugh. They might be strong, but they've never gone through anything you have.

Eventually, the dilapidated covered cart picked up and began to get on its way, loaded with supplies. This was all part of the usual trade agreement between the other Valonian refugee camps, importing and exporting food, lumber, stone, water, weapons, livestock: even citizens were shoved into the seats of the crammed and wrecked wagons covered by a shredded cloth.

You are obviously the only Elite for miles: after all, their numbers are so small that most regular citizens may only see an Elite once or twice in their life. Rumors tell that Elites are men and women who have descended from the Gods directly, and, subsequently, were blessed with amazing powers allowing them to rip armies apart.

You chuckle, thinking of how ridiculous that lie is. You were a regular civilian until you were directly drafted into the military, given a stick and started hitting things.

But that isn't entirely accurate either: Elites are some of the strongest men in the world because of their brutal and gruesome training.

But that is completely off-topic to what is happening. Back to reality, now, of course.

A muscular man jogs to you in his thick suit of dark-green armor, shoulder pads resting on his neck, sporting the glorious emblem of Valon.

You can deduct that he is indeed the captain of the watch here in camp, not only from his armor boasting his position but from the experienced tone of his voice and the sentence he strung together.

"Elite, please report your status. Who is this?"

[Knight] Taur Sethus (A well-rounded fighting class with no particular area of strength, though mainly relies on melee combat.)

[Crusader] Arthur Serpenthelm (A fighter/healer class, that can effectively heal teammates and hold his own in battle.)

[Alchemist] Aion Lightwound (A nuker/healer class, sporting a variety of useful combat and out-of-combat chemicals. She can not only aid herself but others as well, and surely isn't completely defenseless.)