The Coldwall Collective

And so the Collective had escaped the village. Though the sensation had faded, the memory remained.

Looking back at the village it seemed now to be a different world entirely when given the knowledge of what lingered within and between those homes.

This hunger.

This 'traveler' with no name.

This threat of Void tearing with endless desire at the world.

Five weeks have now passed. Five weeks if one were to trust my timepiece. I must admit that trust has waned of late. The hours of the day seem to stretch and compress when my eyes linger elsewhere. A minute, an hour, I fret I may no longer know the true weight of either.

I arrived at this place one month's mark ago. "An Illness" I was told, such as had been seen countless times before. With pack light and feet admittedly sore I set to the two days march down the coastline, cutting the granite cliffs with my steady pace.

My arrival was met with a mixture. Apprehension and curiosity, two common emotions. The intimate bond between patient and practitioner is sacred and requires a degree of vulnerability difficult to offer to strangers. As per my norm, I worked to initially establish rapport. Meet people, shake hands, cast passing small talk and levy joke to calm their concerns.

The success was moderate. First a small number, and finally much of the small village were paying me visit. I documented all. Appearances, rate of the heart, color and consistency of blood, pupils, all signs again and again adopted a peculiar trend. They were healthy. Each and every soul who graced my makeshift and rather temporary clinic were completely bodily sound.

Which makes what I write next all the more disturbing.

"Come on, Sula! You're going to miss it!"

The sin'dorei woman checked her hair, a brief comb of her fingers through the dark locks to assure some semblance of control. In truth, she had all but given up on her efforts to tame her appearances after that last dance. The scent of burning candles and gunpowder fireworks lingered with the aroma of ambrosia. Decadence she was unfamiliar with.

The woman settled into a stride, each drop of her pointed heels to the floor displaying a click that carried despite the music. It issued a certain authority, a presence that she embraced to allow herself this night of importance. She felt like -someone- among this crowd, signed and assured when she caught the glances from passing faces.

The elf illuminated her features in the glow of a nearby crystal, a beautiful allure of yellow and azure that flattered her pale skin. She met her hand with the one who had called her, the man lifting the hand offered toward the sky and drawing her to an all too natural twirl.

This all felt so right to her. Perhaps in her common blood lay the lines of something more. A somebody awaiting their chance to shine and catch the gaze with illuminated, blooming petals. She smiled to herself, an innuendo laying in that analogy despite her efforts to maintain her poise. She met her hand once more with his, venturing to entwine her fingers with his own and pause their sway to meet eye to eye.

"I'd not miss it for the world." She muttered, mentally beating herself for what may be the most cliche line. Yet it drew his lips to a smile, pausing her rising heartbeat and assuring her she had landed her sentiment. She turned, letting her arms snake around the man's torso and her hands to clasp upon his far side.

"Don't worry, you'll be okay." His voice was distant yet soft, a comfort that she had not known was becoming a craving. She turned her head, pressing face to his shirt and drawing in the deep scent of his cologne. He smelled of burning candles.

"I trust you. And honestly, I'm excited." She replied with no uncertain tone.

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She replied without hesitation.

His hand wrapped her, resting to the back of her head. The music was loud, her mind was quiet. She was safe here. She belonged. She was precisely where she was always meant to be.

His shirt smelled like burning candles. May this night last forever.

His hand released, letting the woman stumble away. Her once vibrant eyes now haunted with the dim glow of Azerite presenting a falsehood to her perception. Her shaved head was marked with the dried cuts from the brief claiming of her identity. Despite her tattered garb, she smiled to him with a deliriously manic expression.

"What a beautiful thing it is." He muttered, tracing his hand along her jaw that held to several stages of bruising. She turned her head to press a kiss to his palm. "To serve so effortlessly. To be beholden to nothing but the Shattered God."

The sin'dorei turned away, moving with a dancing step as her bare feet pattered to cold stone. The music played, the candles burned down, the sky above dashed with stars. As though made from a thousand pieces from a broken moon.

So it's likely most of you have heard. There are some horrid allegations regarding Blizz ATM. If you've not heard of them, a quick Google search will catch you up to speed.

I don't want to go into the grit of it here. I want to say, upfront, that the guild is still going to be here. Some individuals have already made their intent clear that they can't justify paying for the sub with the allegations pending. Some have elected to stay. Whatever one's personal reasons, they are justified, and we all have to make our own decisions regarding what we engage and where we spend our money.

This guild stopped being about Blizzard about 5 years ago. Aside from a $15 fee, this community has grown beyond the game into a group of writers and players across multiple platforms. We intend to remain, and continue doing what we do for ourselves.

I am hoping those brought to light in these allegations face justice. I hope there is a resolution. Time will tell, on these matters. For the time being, those of us who remain will continue to create.

Blizz can't take our stories, our characters, and our creations away. They don't belong to them.

Hello friends!

Wanted to let you all know that this month, just a few days ago in fact, Coldwall reached it's 6th year anniversary as a guild.

Which is absolutely wild. I have to be honest I think often about when this guild was in its infant stages. I had no idea what I was doing and had no clue how to make something of this group. Now, six years later, I still have no clue what I am doing, but regardless I can say I am insanely proud of the community we have raised and the people who call this place home.

We've been through a lot. Tangled storylines, sweeping guild changes, major life events, a server swap and a whole-ass pandemic. We've seen faces come and go. We've watched each other grow, some over short periods of time others over quite long spans. I know if I think of the person I was six years ago I can say for a fact that who I have become, my accomplishments and growth, have been in large part because of this guild.

And I hope many of you can say something similar. I hope, beyond hope, that this guild has been a positive influence and a good part of your life for the past six years.

Life gets busy, circumstances alter, and we often have to adapt ourselves around those factors. But that won't change what we have here. This silly, often times completely erratic group of individuals from across the world. Whether we are writing stories in WoW, playing other games to pass the time, or just hanging out and chatting, I know for a fact that this Collective will continue into the future with new ideas, new friends, and new things to discover about our characters and ourselves.

As always, my Collective, my friends, you have my utmost respect. As writers, as companions, as people. Thank you for continuing to provide your amazing talents to this group. Thank you for always striving to be kind, generous, and thoughtful. Thank you for making each other laugh. For encouraging each other to dream and thrive. You keep our characters alive with your work, and more.. you keep our imaginations alive in a world that often dulls the creative.

I love you all. Heres to 6 years, Collective. And to many more as we continue to grow together.

Thank you.

- Mas

So things have been tough lately. IRL troubles and stresses to say nothing about the struggles of trying to balance roleplay lives too. We get it. We understand it. And hey, we aren't ashamed to admit we've been having our own struggles right there with you.

However, we are persistent. When we see an issue, we search for a solution. Well it just so happens that we think we've found some things that can help you out in this troubled time!

Because let's face it, crime just isn't enough anymore. We've got bills, people! So with that in mind, we are excited to introduce a few new services Coldwall will be providing in the months to come.

Anti-Ghosting Services

We've all been there, my friend. Someone you used to RP with just isn't around anymore! Having your character tied up with another only to have them poof on you really stinks. Well, we want to mend the issue by offering character stand ins! For just a small fee we will have our characters dress up as your missing friend, enemy, loved one, enemy with sexual tension, whatever! We will then proceed to fill in for the absent toon to assure you replace the feeling of 'where did they go' with feelings of 'why is this tall man in a blonde wig pretending to be my ex'. You'll be so happy/confused you'll forget all about the negative!

Guild Autopilot

Running a guild can be taxing! Wouldn't it be great if you could just hire someone to run it for you? What was once fantasy can now be reality! We will take your guild and run it for you so you can go on that needed vacation! When you come back you'll find the guild exactly as you left it!* We will then turn it back over to you without any fight.** You can trust us!***

*Likely with fresh new criminal records for all your members.

** Peaceful return of power not guaranteed.

*** You absolutely can't.

The Coldwall Cuddle Pile

I'd really prefer not to talk about this one.

OnlyCrimes

With the success of other, similar platforms we have made the call to start out own subscription service! For a very small fee per month we will fill your life with crime! These crimes can be against you or for you, depending on preferences.

Please note that despite the name of the service the crimes will not be sexy crimes. However we are considering a premium tier with sexy crimes included. This will be made available of enough subscribers request sexy crimes.

-

We hope that these services will supplement your day to day lives in positive ways as well as supplement our incomes! Thank you all for your continued patronage and support as we are always changing to accommodate new needs.

Bloodsport Champion

Trixie Firespark

Runner Up

Odessa Felicity

The full final ladder with accompanied scores can be viewed ->HERE<-.

We hope to see all of you and many more at the next brawl, hosted on the 4th Friday of every month at 6pm ST! All of us in the Coldwall Collective thank you for your time and your participation!

The 39th Monthly Bloodsport Brawl!

- Friday March 26th -

- 6pm Sign Ups, 7pm Launch -

It’s that time again!

A time to strip off your fancy clothing or working gloves and step into a place where the only thing that matters is your grit. Your grit, coupled with your ability to lay a punch into some poor sod’s throat with enough force to collapse it. Gruesome? Not to the proper sorts! Nah, some people revel in it!

People like you, perhaps? If so, then why not come and pit yourself against some of the finest fighters this city has to offer. New bloods, old veterans, it doesn’t matter to us! The pits don’t care about your species, gender, or class. The great equalizer, it is!

Think you have a chance to be the next Bloodsport Champion?

If so, join us down at the Stormwind Docks on Friday the 26th. Sign ups open at 6 bells and close just after 7 bells. No late sign ups can be admitted, so show up on time to assure your place!

Combat is single elimination ladder, and fights are handled with base d20 rolls. Each fight will be moderated, assuring fairness and keeping things smooth, as well as answering any questions for new fighters. Several fights take place at the same time throughout the event, and spectators are more than welcome to attend.

To sign up, speak to or whisper Nayleen on the night of the event. She will be on location at the docks. Brief party invites available to assist with directions if necessary.

All scores will be updated in real time, and a full ladder will be available to all on the day of the fight to follow the winners as they move up the rankings.

“The shores are calm, now.” The goblin muttered, fingers nervously twitching over the half-chewed cigar clutched in his grip. The elf at his anterior looked up from the letter than had until this moment arrested his attention. He made a fact to nod to the cigar in the goblin’s hand.

“They are.. but if you continue to pick at that cigar you’ll have nothing left to smoke, Clipsaw. Have a drink and -ease- into the evening. You are raising my blood pressure with your worries..”

Clipsaw’s aggravation with the dismissal was evident, though he cooled his objections by allowing his free hand to run along his forehead and back through his hair. With a flick he tossed the ruined cigar to swallow into the dark waters below.

“You think they won’t come here? Honestly, this.. this is absolute madness, you know..” He paused, but upon receiving no reply he spun. “Nareth? Hey, Silverthorn!”

The elf finally looked back to the goblin, exasperated and making very little effort to conceal it.

“Yes, I hear you. And I’m getting tired of reading the same paragraph seven times because you interrupt me.”

Clipsaw’s brow twitched, matched to the scowl on his features. He moved over to the sitting elf, reaching to rip the letter from his hands and toss it aside.

“Listen. To. Me.” He articulated, much to Nareth’s annoyance. “When I signed on to this deal, you didn’t tell me I’d have a fucking criminal syndicate gunning for me! The Collective already hit the Council’s proxies. Why the fuck do you think they’d draw the line at me!? I.. I want out of th-”

The elf rocked forward, fizzling the Goblin’s protests out into a silent stare. He met the gaze of the other, indicating a moment of absolute restraint as the aggression burned behind those glowing eyes. Slowly, the elf settled back into his chair, fingers tracing to the letter that now settled upon the tabletop beside.

“There is no ‘out’, Mr. Ridgeweld. You know this. The Council entrusted you with production, and thus.. the means of. You know too much on their merit. The Twins would sooner bury you in a drowning box at their word. I wouldn’t have to lift a finger, so, instead, allow me to assist you and explain in no uncertain terms that your employment with us is non-negotiable.”

Clipsaw’s shoulders deflated as he was met with the truth of the matter, twisting to settle his gaze once more out to the water.

“What happens if the Collective come after me next?”

Nareth’s lips twitch into a small smile.

Attention friends and loved ones of the Coldwall Collective!

For five and a half years, Coldwall has been proud to serve WrA in our capacity through public events and roleplay encounters. In that time, we have witnessed fantastic things, been involved in brilliant events, and had the pleasure of interacting with some people and writers we will always remember.

However, with the launch of Shadowlands we have noticed that the server is not what it once was from our perspective. While there are still some fantastic guilds/people here, the life in the server has dimmed. This is not directed as a means to insult WrA, but more to acknowledge that it can not provide what we, as a guild, seek in our environment.

After much discussion across the officership and members, the decision has been made for the guild to move to Moon Guard.

We understand this decision is a fairly big one, and it is one we did not make lightly. It comes with all associated concerns and a healthy dose of nervous energy to boot. However, we feel that MG, especially with a large influx of former WrA members, is a server that can provide the environment for our members and subsequently our guild to expand, enrich, and thrive.

To everone on WrA. This isn’t goodbye. With how easy it is to cross servers, you will still be able to attend most of our public events and say hello. We are still going to be the Collective you know, so you can always feel free to poke us, say hello, or seek out ways to RP.

To everyone on MG. We know it’s your stomping grounds. We are not about to go in there and throw our weight around. We are ready and eager to provide the events, quality, and characters that people have come to expect from us. We are looking forward to what we can bring to MG, and what MG can offer us as well!

Thank you, everyone, for five and a half years of amazing RP. Heres to many years more in a new community.

We love you. And we’ll see you around.

As the xpac just dropped, most of our members are spending our time enjoying the new content in the Shadowlands! As such, we are not going to be hosting our Bloodsport this month. We apologize, but we wager many of you are probably doing the same thing as we are! Have fun, and we will see y’all next time!

- Mas

“This one?”

The voice rang out in the hollows of the deep wood. The lantern squeaked as it was swung aside, illuminations cast from the eye of the metallic chamber to cast glow on the sturdy copse of wood ahead. The man holding the lantern narrowed his gaze, free hand lifting to draw thin strands of chestnut hair from his brow.

“It will do. Mark it.” His reply was simple and straightforward, coupled with a slight shiver as the chilly air bit through his jacket. There was a calm to the process. Something that made him feel at ease despite their presence in an otherwise hostile place.

“Right.. this should make twelve.” His counterpart stated. The slender man stepping forward and drawing a brush from a smooth tube of metal. The white paint on the tip was laced into the wood, marking the tree for their purposes. “Think twelve will be enough?”

“Enough..” The brunette replied, almost with a hint of amusement to his tone. “Never. Last week we doubled this.”

“Fantastic! That’s more work for us, you know that right, Davin?”  The slender male walked back to his partner, lifting the brush to flick the air aside. “What happened to assassination? Simple, quick, and clean. Now it’s all about sending messages..”

Davin spun to face his counterpart, lifting a hand to slide fingers around the smooth crease of fabric at the crown of his tie. He lifted with a small shimmy to set the tie into proper place against his neckline.

“You are letting your common blood show, you know. This is the mouth that your wife warned would get you into trouble. Remember the gamble with the goblin brothers?”

“A misstep at most..” The slender man replied, turning his head and his body in time. He moved to another tree and lifted his brush to trace against the wood. The sound registered before the pain. A whistle, a crack like a gunshot, and his hand now spilling with bright red blood.

The man howled as the nerves of his hand fired off in full. Each painful spasm of his fingers laced new waves of agony as they twitched around the thick metal bolt that now pierced through his digits.

“You’ve had enough missteps, Terrance.” Davin stated, fingers laying a second bolt into the slot on his hand crossbow. “We appreciate you marking your own tree for us, though. Saves us the time.”

“Davin! Please! ..I called you my damn brother! Lucille.. Alexandra.. they see you as family. Don’t do this!”

Final words silenced as the second bolt entered his maw and pierced his spine against the tree. Silence that now saturated the space. Davin pulled on his bow to fold the arms inward and slide them under his sleeve. A dust of both hands to remove any blemish from his coat.

“Cold feet, Kirrek?”

The words broke the man from his brief stupor. What was a glance at the nearby bastion of flame had become a flight into his thoughts. The hesitations that flickered his heart as the flame licked the wood were etched onto his features. The young man shook his head in denial of those thoughts.

The one who had so broken the spell walked over toward him. Her hand was cold, fingers against his palm prompting him to close his own digits to warm them. She took that as a signal of acceptance, drawing him into step toward the destination above.

Each stone step was a bother now, a trudge that ached his calves though he did not protest. Though they had yet arrived, he felt the moment of such protest had long since passed. Now it was the inevitability that made him nervous.

As the summit of the stone steps fell into view, the man felt his apprehension both grow and numb in equal measure. Men and women across a spectrum of races, outfits, and social status situated sparsely within the extensive span of the temple grounds. Cliché, he so thought, but the entirety of the gathering felt opposite to that fact.

He passed by a group of men his own age, who eyed him and his guiding partner with a keen, amused eye. He felt once more as he did on the first day of academy. A man out of his element with a beacon of purity above his brow. His guiding force remained the woman he had come to adore. The woman with the chestnut hair.

She so turned to face him, once again meeting his cautious gaze with her calm countenance. He stopped, allowing her fingers to slide from his grip and draw to her pack. Extending out, a simple thing.

A mask, decorated in the shape of a mallard. The man claimed the mask on instinct alone, confusion barring the potential to effectively analyze the situation. As his gaze swept up with questions upon his tongue, they were silenced. Her eyes beaming with delight behind the face of a mouse. A mask as his own, now sliding over his features to set into place.

“So what now?” Kirrek inquired, trying to mask his concerns and nerves under the deadpan humor that he knew she adored. “Do we make a blood oath or something?” He issued a humorless laugh.

She watched his efforts, her expression hiding behind the mask beyond what could be seen in her sparkling gaze. Her head shook, soft, gentle, yet the sway of her hair and the denial of his humor was akin to an eternity in his perception. Was it too late, he wondered, to turn back.

“No need, Kirrek. You don’t have to live up to your expectations. That’s behind you tonight. We’ll go back to being Amber and Kirrek tomorrow. For tonight..?”

She stepped closer, her hand extending out. The man flinched back, finding his spine pressed to the chest of a tall figure posterior to him. Two hands rested against his shoulders, more men and women coming forward to extend their grip upon the pair.

Though Kirrek felt panic, Amber exuded peace. She lowered her voice to a sweet, serenading whisper.

“..tonight..”

Her hand met to his mask, their eyes locked, the air thin as to deny his breath.

“..we are only animals.”

His breath drew in as a cloud of cyan dust passed between them. The air tasted sweet. His fingers felt numb. Her eyes burned bright.. brilliant.. beautiful..