A Knights Tale - the Dominion Story

Uri and the Officers have crafted a story to set Dominion in this world - as an RPPVP server it is useful to have a place - in lore.
For those who ocassionally like to RP and would like to on their Dominion Character - this story will help the background. For others it will maybe help to place Dominion where it might fit.

Uri and his production team are making a film of this story - the story sets the scene or screenplay for that film.
As the poor dude with RP rep responsibility it falls to me to publish this for your interest. The abridge film will follow.
Hope you enjoy.

Lirazel.


Uriel returns home after what seems like centuries of bloody mindless war. He stops his small party of mounted veterans outside the gates of Bethu Elveis (Coldsteel Hold) - grim faced – the mounts champ their bits - breath steaming in the cold air.

He thinks, "These walls have seen so many war-filled years- so many knights have passed out never to return - so many battles for the "pride" his father instilled in him - so many elven souls lost for the glory of the Sunstriders legacy"...and ruin and shattered lands were are all his eyes could see everywhere along the weary road back home.

The snort of a warhorse brought him back to the present.

URIEL: ..."So this is it? All those lives wasted for a mad human prince and his pursuit of power and folly. Arthas and the Scourge,(the true evil),destroyed EVERYTHING he loved and brought cold death to countless of his kin - mown down like hay before the scourge reapers."

The knight looked across at his companions and said, “"I see...Lordaeron has proved itself weak.” Raven, the nearest of the four remarked.."What does all this mean, Master?". “This means WAR!!!.......bloody and vengeful war!!” The Sin’dorei knight chillingly replied.
A grim silence hung in the air between the veterans - no peace for the wicked it seemed.

And so it came to pass...

The group offered their service and were accepted by the warband of “Dominion” – drawn from across the horde races – always used by Warchiefs for the dirtiest and most hopeless missions – like gnarled and crafty war dogs they ripped flesh across the worlds.

Leaders came and went – until they came under the command of their most dour and dark master – a forsaken liche from Undercity – whose infamy spread like poison into Alliance hearts – the Black Jack. Under Jack the veterans became more vicious more cruel but more effective until truth be told they fought more for themselves than any warchief – especially the fel-crazed Garrosh whom all held in fear and loathing.

Many months passed under the cruel direction of the liche Jackblack through all the actions spread around Azeroth. Until at last in the grim and snowbound ice-realm of the north – the Lich King fell in his dark citadel. Dominion joined all the other desperate fighting within those dark walls and eerie courts of bones – black days of darkness with black hearts of death.

Uriel Coldsteel learned much from the black liche and grew high in the warband – when his wing leader Celeglin Agrianna was taken it was to Coldsteel that his fighting wing was granted. The fighting continued – taking its toll but always the war gods found warriors to fill the gaps like teeth in a sharks maw – Dominions bite stayed strong.

Then a Dark Ranger from Undercity came and no doubt the call of Sylvanas came to Jack – he stood aside to do the Dark Lady’s will. Several commanders took care of the warband till such time as the Liche would return - each in turn worn down by the grim and unforgiving task of being the hand upon the leash of the bloodiest fighting company under the skies of Azeroth.

With his Forsaken mentor gone – the pupil Coldsteel grew in presence and stature with the band – filled with hate and bloodthirsty ruthlessness but charismatic to those who were receptive to his Sindorei charm – he took his place as Wardancer during the siege of Windrunner ruins in Ashenvale when Wardancer Sunsworn fell. The Raven passed the staff of leadership to Uriel in front of the warband.

It is said that it was there that Uriel Coldsteel met an orc last survivor of an ancient primordial clan living still in those woods, His clan destroyed by the Kaldorei rangers in multiple night attacks he came into the camp like a snarling beast to offer his scimitar to the warband. in honor of the old liche he was given the name of Jack – Jack Smash. The greenskin wasn’t an orator nor a true leader, but his will to die with honor in battle was enough to convince Urièl there was a place for him in Dominion.

There were other Wardancers – from different races – Xavalis was such a one – forsaken and imbued with dazzling battle magic – feared and loved by his troops – and dreaded by the foe for he takes no pity on those weaklings. From eldritch decayed magic melders he peceived the multiple temporal lines dancing behind every battle, making him both a Wizard with terrible power and a brilliant Farseer - countering almost every enemy move on the battlefield and frustrating there ambitions.

Many years passed. The rise and fall of black Deathwing - and the discovery of that new continent of Pandaria – and the blood kept flowing. Dominon followed no war chief but fought for its own purpose - they kept spreading the bloody word of pain and suffering to the Alliance races of Azeroth wherever they could be found.

Upon one stormy night Dominions leaders met....

The War council gathered in a dark and windy ruin – those of the liviling seeking warmth from burning braziers – those not living standing cold and grim with errily shining eyes – pale torches reflected glints of a myriad of blades and spikes on ragged armour.
“The power..." started Uriel ... "The power is what we seek. That power that makes us bend no knee to any lord - and theres only one way to obtain the power....to protect and make our way really our own".

"What are you talkin about,Coldsteel?" interjected Jacksmash leader of the assault troops .

"Go Ahead,Sin'dorei child" said Wardancer Xavalis while taking a seat at the battered blackoak table.

" It is the ‘ Demon blood’ - brothers. “ continued Uriel. “Imagine a well filled with it, With the powerful essence in blood of the most powerful demons we can find. To feed our warband to infuse them with power. None could stand against us – we would roll all before us – unstoppable”.
None but Uriel noticed a glint of evil – maybe a smile in a shadowed corner – at his words. The shadow faded and the liche shape merged into the greater blackness.

"t-t-the Demon blood,would make us stronger even than the legendary Warsongs !" exclaimed Jacksmash....."We must obtain it!"

The melifluos Xavalis added "and how can this be done? If you would show yourself so kind to tell us, child of the blood" His crooked sarcastic smile made Xavalis seemed to know the answer...as always;

"More battles, more blood and and maybe some arcanery - eventually a major Demon will appear to either stop or parley with us. They seek for souls brothers, but the cold steel of our blades is what they will find instead and cold magics.” Uriel sat back and continued.
“We will imprison Him like the knights of the blood order did with M'uru, and drink his blood in an unholy feast. Then our people will not have to fall n vain again – we will be unstoppable!"

The three warlords sat in thought – the attendants shuffled nervously – and the wind teased the spluttering torches.

Uriel slowly drew his eldritch blade with pride with a hint of demonic spark in his eyes. His hood slipped back showing still long hair groomed over scars and damage – his eyes compelling and set.
The warlords stood – nodded – and filed out – leaving the torches and the cold fires to the night – it was time for action with dawn no more than one hour away.

The leaders then departed with there riders from the Dark Hold – armed with a mission and an objective known to "Dominion" only.

till this day....

In these troubled times – the blades never rest – always willing servants to the chaotic gods of war and pestilence. The days darken - and wherever the crow-hag of war appears the denizens of Azeroth can be sure sooner or later Dominion will show up to claim the souls of the Alliance fallen.

This is from the war band records of Dominion as recorded by its Harbinger in letters of blood on pages of human skin – and bound in worgen leather – it is Dominions story. I know it to be true because i was the Raven.

Nice story!

Good to see Dominion getting into the RP scene a bit. Sorry that I went inactive on Vangrel.

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heres the link of the video.

the story its more resumed in it (we would love some nice voice actors for the next one^^)and theres some wpvp ingame scenes(since its what we do every day),hope youll enjoy it.

to cerik: until now we just respected where possible the RP being done around .
We will start givin it a minor push for the ones who dedicate it time and focus when theyr not around the world killing opposite faction players.
Im sure this will bring even more wpvp battles to the guild ,still approachin an interesting aspect of this game,without being forced to do it.

See you all on the battlefield, Urièl Coldsteel of Dominion o/

Fun times in helping in making that video. I especially enjoy the scene where Wild Tempest and other Alliance utterly murders Dominion.

Jokes aside, we got murdered just as many times as you were. Welcome to the forums and among the Roleplayers to an extent. See you on the battlefield.

"Wild Tempest and other Alliance utterly murders Dominion"

win or lose its always big fun!

I have been bid to tell some more of this tale for it is not fully played out...

The Raven continued...her audience spell bound by the tale..

At first light of a bleak and dreary dawn the ruined manor echoed to the sounds of preparations and snorts and shuffling of mounts eager to be gone from that dank hole. The warlords of Dominion mounted and led a ragged force out into the grim grey rolling highlands.
Crows, harbingers of war, woke noisily and screeched complaining from the ragged trees - their rest disturbed by the clinking harness of the warbands train.  Trembling clouds, threatening more rain hung low and gravid. The sun a pale and weak intruder to the greyness was losing its battle to shine – losing its luminousity – glowing slightly through veils of grey – no warmth penetrated to warm the travellers.  Such it was most days in Gilneas -  infamous land of drizzle and murk. The warband sought a new den – a hold to base in for the coming fight.

The land was still largely held by Gilneas whose ragged forces fought desperately against the Dark Lady’s forsaken hordes  – the presence of Alliance roaming scouts threatened discovery so the journey was cautious and still. Compromise by scouts were a threat to the Dominion plan – and Uriel knew it.  All eyes scoured treelines and ridge tops for tell tale movement – the mood was grim but alert.
More than once they were almost discovered and more than once risked ambush. More often than not it was Farseer Xavalis who sensed the danger and urged movement and speed and changes of routes. The pace was painfully slow but they were not discovered – yet.
Only a day ago the herald received a crumpled letter from an orcish scout who caught up with the column at the manor where the council had met. The message was addressed to the Warlord of Dominion and bore a bloody mark that indicated its originator was a war leader of an Orcish tribal warband. It asked for assistance, troops and force of arms to aid in a counter-attack in the Tirisfal. It set out some locations for meeting and a rude sketch of operations all scribbled in scratchy orcish script.  It was marked by a “general” Rargnarsha Bloodmark.
Uriel had taken it from the Raven’s hand and scoured the contents intently. He had shared the request with the other lords. He puzzled as to how the Orc knew that he was still alive,  how Dominon’s whereabouts could be known and if this plan and objectives were in fact a secret still.
Jacksmash voiced these concerns in council. Uriel discounted these fears "Unlikely  I think...
this is something written in time of desperate need by a group of barbaric greenskins with a plan. This Chieftain may have sent similar letters to whoever he has heard can be reached – though there is a risk I feel in my blood that we are almost definitely safe"

The pair continued the discussion later on the trail. In hushed voices near the head of the column which snaked secretly through the rain and mist of the Gilnean wastelands.

"If it really is as you suggest Coldsteel, how can we realistically respond to this Orc’s  request? The Alliance 157th Regiment has been  stalking us for more than a week now, and Xavalis wont be able to predict every move forever. Even with his eldritch skill it is only a question of time before they catch us"  Jack had fought through too many battles lately and even a reckless berserker like him understood the effect to morale on troops hunted by a larger relentless and cunning foe.

Uriel thought for an instant and then replied "Both enemies and sword brothers we sacrificed in that farseeing ritual.  Still no result...we need hard information about what we are up against – how we can trap the hunters on our tails. Maybe this Orcs plan will work.”
He stopped speaking for a instant to observe Dominions ragged vanguard as it secured the far side of the bridge they had arrived at. Bridges and defiles – always dangerous and the securing of the far bank essential to cross the raging stream that blocked their path in safety. When satisfied that the crossing was secure and scouts deployed beyond the far bank, he continued..
“It is a plan – and it might work. So the only way I see it working is if we keep patrolling- seeking points to fight and spying out the enemy and their dispositions.” He smiled grimly as several drops of rain dripped from his brow and onto his breastplate.

Jack’s face went a deeper colour betraying an inner rage that any looking could read. His arm trembled on the soggy reins of his white wolf. But seeing Coldsteel alongside others of the Warband he summoned a barely reasonable response...” Exactly how do you plan to accomplish this mission, elf? How do you plan to raid their territories with 157th breathing down our necks and this ending in a bloody clusterfuck?  Why do you little Sin'dorei think you can give a proper battle to a nation that almost enslaved you all in the past?"

Uriel bristled slightly but thought before replying.....but found his mind drifting back across time...

A voice from deep in his memory “Why do you little Sin'dorei think you can give a proper battle to a nation?"

Shafts of sunbeams and tree-shadow - the twitter of birds and the hum of insects buzzing and skittering above wild flowers.

A child playing in a wondrous forest – fighting imagined foes in a sunlit glade – wooden sword swishing through through air – he laughs in glee.   He knew the place - it was his fathers hold south of Tranquillien in the days before the Scourge defiled the lands with their unclean advance.
Two figures stand talking beneath the apple trees in front of a Sindorei building – one (the childs mother) ripe and swollen with the glow new life in her eyes. The other a man and dressed in warriors garb. Not his father but a human friend or retainer that the child had seen more than once before.
The man salutes the mother and continues, “ If that is all, my lady, I will take my leave. I will make sure Lord Coldsteel gets your message within the week”. He smiles nodding at the ladys swollen belly as she cupped it with pale delicate hands.

"May the light bless and protect you Aron. Remind him that he had better hurry up and finish this war or he will miss the birth – his family needs him. “ she remarked with a beautiful warm smile.
The human turned and mounted a great bay war horse covered with trappings of Lordaeron.  Which a final nod he turned the horses head and began to move towars the highway – slowing as he reached a point next to which he had seen the young child play.The horse started as a small lithe figure jumped onto the path with legs set wide and wooden sword pointing at the Warrior.
The warrior laughed “ What peril is this? Would you forbid me to take a message to your father telling him what a fine little Coldsteel knight you are?”
The small Sin’dorei looked up at the tall man immensely high above him on that huge horse – no fear showed except a tremble in one knee. “ You are from Lordaeron father says – are you a knight?”
The man smiled “"not yet a knight , young Uriel . But after this war I will travel back to my own lands and maybe I will become one. Now now I really must be on my way” – He steered the horse around the child who turned as the shadow crossed his face.
His childs voice called , “Man of Lordaeron, I think I would like your city. I wIll visit it one day and maybe conquer it!" . His mother gasped slightly shocked at the brazenness of her little hero and considered chastising his disrespect for his father’s retainer.
Aron looked back and beamed “.Why do you little Sin'dorei  think you can give a proper battle to a nation  hah? " He turned back,  smiled, and with a wave – rode out onto the highway – and was gone.
The child shrilled back almost chillingly, "because.....I am an iron phoenix, and like a phoenix, I will fly wherever I fancy and always will I take what is rightly ours”.......
The sunlight faded in Coldsteel’s mind and he was back in the damp and dark woods of Gilneas – the Orc was looking at him strangely – awaiting an answer.
“ ...because I saw a phoenix once years ago ....and beause you are as mad as a pack of dire wolves with their nuts in a trap – you green oaf!”
Jack guffawed and returned to the column – Uriel smiled wanly and turned his warhorse to the high way.  Where was Lordaeron now...

"because you are as mad as a pack of dire wolves with their nuts in a trap – you green oaf!”

Best part by far!

Chapter 3,Pretty much the end of this prologue of Uriel.Thank you Lirazel for the help;Wish you all an enjoyable reading.




Two weeks had passed since the attack on Tol Barad. The combined might of horde warbands converged on the isle – in a flotilla of ships whose masts stretched as far as an eye could see. From all over the north they came through passes and forests to answer Rargnarsha’s call. Red eyed Orcs with jagged blades, Forsaken by the score, and all manner of horde were represented in that hideous armory. Then came a storm that broke up on the Alliance lines like breakers on the fore shore – a deathly blow of mailed violence. The carnage moved from one end to the other till the paths and bridges were slippery in gore and spilled blood.



Uriel saw it all in his mind’s eye as he steered his charger through the dripping trees in Ghostlands – going through events as they happened. It was still the dog watch some hours before the dawn. The angry leaden clouds darkened the land still more some last scratches of rain were still falling as if the trees were weeping. This lone knight riding... with grim but pensive visage.


Dominion had fought well that day - always in the vanguard or in times when the tides would turn the forlorn hope. Wherever the fighting was fiercest there they would be and there some would fall – not to rise again. Uriel’s plan to quickly cement the warband’s place in the Horde had come at a terrible price. Fully one third of Dominion would not fight again. Partly it was his inherited Sin’dorei pride and need to shine – you cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs it was said – casualties happen.

The battle went well and in the end ,the plan was perfect and Tol barad has fallen before the perfect storm.


And then without a break the war machine rolled on across the seething sea to Alterac. Even though the objective was not key to Dominion - the opportunity to yet again prove the might of the warband spurred Uriel on to drive and drive the force to show its valor and its powe. Alterac ended in a success even more brilliant than expected ,but at another big cost in souls for Dominion.


The commander of our assault troops, the orc with the legacy of the Black Jack, was lost. Last seen beserking into a wood of Alliance cavalry – he did not come out. The tally of the dead did not find his corpse but that was not unusual – mnost were recorded as “missing in action” – his named was added to that growing throng.


But then there was that chance of luck – a thing that was to be of great importance in time - The Warband took a single prisoner from the campaign - a human warlock. He was identified as Rakhavar - well known in the secret circles of Magi. Under pain and visceral torture such as only those skilled in the art of loosing tightlipped tongues he broke. What he had to say – interrupted by coughs of blood through his ruined mouth – was a shock to Uriel and his plan to use Demon Blood.


It was now clear that the plan was folly. To try to lure a major demon was madness, and then to craft a cauldron and drain the demons essence totally insane – it simply was too dangerous – and more disappointing – it could not ever work. The wrecked and trembling mage was wiped of memory and released to wander blindly in the hills – food for wolves or worse.

.
A failure...all the legends, the myths and supposed secrets scratched pages of ancient tomes, were not enough to fill the warband’s knowledge about demonology, and they had paid for their folly - risking too much with too little information. It was back to scratch.


Uriel then decided to hold his campaign and retired to Tirisifal. The band were set to forage and to rest until new orders. He left and went home alone.

But home was not a comfort nor a place to rest.

Uriel arrived in front of the now stricken manor as dawn turned the sky to a slighty less sickly glow. The domain of decay – dead white trees, all overgrown and crumbling statues - weeds cracking the mosaic floor and foul scrawls and black scorching marring the once highly coloured walls.


A scurrying rat disturbed by his footfalls broke from the litter and disappear beneath the stairs in the atrium. The scourge had defiled his sanctum and burned his memories and left him empty.

He caught a glint in front of his path which revealed itself to be a small toy – a figure in coloured glass when he picked it up He smiled – a small memory of the time before the scourge had fouled this place.

He then made his way from the large salon to the second floor until he reached the ebony door to his fathers study. The dust kicked up and floated like smoke in a thin beam of sickly sunlight. He passed the smashed desk to last unbroken mirror. He took of his heavy armour and drank water – thinking on the events of the last month.

"Father,if only you were still here...the humans that betrayed us seems to be everywhere, I fail your memory with my every breath...what should I do now?....what should I do..."

Near the mirror , a scroll still opened on the table. Uriel smiled a melancholy smile. It was the recomendation letter signed by his father, Nuadha Coldsteel, tothe family's human friend Aron. It bade him teach the young Uriel about the skill of the paladin of the Silver Hands. To prove worthy of his blood and thereby come to learn the true nature of the Light. Not every Sin’dorei knight was destined to be of the Bloodknights – there were some few who learned the old ways – before the tragedy of the Sunwell warped all that was held true.


The taste of the chilled and fragrant water started to clear his mind. He needed answers from those same people who betrayed trust – from Aron and his ilk. It was not for him to lure demonic forces.

His training had been to destroy evil in all its forms and manifestations. It was time to redeem his calling – and to avaenge the memory of the fallen dead and his loved ones.

His faced hardened and a new resolve formed – he had a plan.......

A suggestion would be to have someone spell and grammar-check these before posting.
The spelling and grammar are very unreadable, and I, for one, can not read this, due to the fact that it hurt my eyes.
Sad, cause I do enjoy some good stories.

Oh dear! The original text was by a non-native english speaker - I corrected some and added a little flourish here and there but I have far from perfect english...and mlid lysdexia is a cruse ocf. Also I did not want to lose his words completely. Maybe if I was some kind of teacher? sigh:( I wish we all had perfect linquistic skills - but unfortunately fate has not been so kind. I hope your eyes get better.

Rofl Marg you really apologizeing? Guess Inran or whoever was able to read used farseer's powers.

Yeah looks like a awesome Idea, you can count me in if you want me. I can do voice if you need it, but yeah send me a whisper in game to talk about it guys x=

We moved Alliance,thats somehow the prelude,hope you enjoy and thank you Scrim for writeing it.

                                          --------------------------------------

The dawn rising, spreading light upon the band. Lord Coldsteel awoke with trepidations of what the day would bring. Leading his war-bound caravan through a murky forest between Tirisfal and Silverpine a shadow appeared and disappeared, breaking the light from above that shone through the trees - a presence was following them, watching their every movement.

None mentioning it but clearly visible on the faces of each one of the band was the fear and angst that something was going to disrupt their day. Possibly their lives.

Clearing the forest, Coldsteel permitted a respite to recuperate. While handing out rations and removing the sodden mud from their clothing a figure appeared walking towards them from the south. Without word everyone grasped their armaments and prepared for what may come. As he approached it became clear he was just a weary traveller lost from the road.

Lord Coldsteel approached the traveller, his runed sword, Sunfang, grasped with both hands; “You show no fear when approaching us, you are either extremely brave or exceedingly dim-witted.”

With this sword perilously close to his neck, the traveller did not move nor did he show any sign of being in fear of what may come of it.
Taken aback by this Lord Coldsteel hesitated, why was this man not in fear for his life? Any other would have begged for leniency and mercy.

“What are we waiting for? Lets get this over with and get our rations sorted before hunger turns on us and we turn on each other” Declared Xavalis.

Brushing off his previous worry over slaying the man, Coldsteel pulled his sword back and swiftly thrust it towards the man's neck. Bouncing off, a silence befell amongst the men.

The man began to mutedly laugh, lifting his face towards the sky he opened his mouth and shouted;

“Fools!!”

It was then that Coldsteel realised who this man was. He was the presence that was felt during the trek through the forest.
A spiral of cloud descended towards the man from the sky, golden lightning sparked down in and out of him transforming him into his natural form. A Dragon, with golden brown scales stood before them, the Dragon opened his wings and began thrashing them, lifting himself off the ground the force of the wind from his wings encircled the men making escape impossible. The dragon drew in an enormous amount of air through his mouth and began to speak with a deep tremulous voice that made the ground vibrate beneath their boots.

“Times are not what they should be. You! Are not what you should be”

The Dragon let out what could only be described as a manic laugh, one you would only hear in the depths of the dungeons of Black Rock.

“I will turn the tables of this land, make true what was foreseen by my more.... acceptable kin.”

From the belly of the Dragon a golden glow appeared which moved up through his throat and carried out into the wind surrounding Coldsteel and his men.

Sensing what the Dragon is up to Coldsteel attempted to reason with him, “We were not aware of who you were, a Dragon of the Bronze flight, if we had known...”

“It matters not, regardless of what you say or want my will shall be done” Said the Dragon, looking upon them with disdain.

One by one, each of the men began to transform into other beings. Beings belonging to their enemy the Alliance, the transformation was painful. Screams of agony could be heard echoing through the forest behind them.

The undead among them began to grow skin and organs, trolls transformed into Night Elves, Orcs into Dwarves. Yet one among the group resisted the change, Lord Coldsteel had embers from his magical past laying dormant within his soul that managed to resist the Dragons powers.

As the golden cloud of energy dissipated the work of the Dragon was complete, and he was nowhere to be seen.
Panic enveloped the men, what would they do now? They would no longer be accepted into the Horde city's or camps they once new so well.

Lord Coldsteel stood up and spoke to his men.

“We have but one option before us, we must head for Stormwind and seek sanctuary while we try to come to terms with what has become of us. This may not be a permanent change, we can only hope. Our hearts have not changed, we are still the men we were, lets not forget that. We must not forget that!”

Uriel Unchanged? Uuuuu..... interesting to see reactions for a Blood Elf in Stormwind.

Nice story there guys Was worried about how the transition would take place but it works well. Still miss Rúmil as a Sin'dorei tho :p he won't be that pretty ever again!!