ghostly howl

Rhonin’s Ghost Continues Hourly Screaming Sessions

By Hazrie of Dalaran

Like clockwork, the ghost of former leader of the Kirin Tor shouts in front of the Dalaran Merchants Bank, reenacting a random event from his life 3 years before he died.

Like most citizens of Dalaran, I have grown used to the ghostly howling.  It’s just another part of life for Wizards here.  Nevertheless this mystery deserves delving into.

Rhonin died four years ago in the bombing of Theramore, which had been described by local psychopath Jaina Proudmoore as “Bad”.  

Since then Rhonin’s ghost has been going through the motions of a seemingly irrelevant event in which he and Brann Bronzebeard assured no Titanic constructs returned Azeroth to it’s base components.  Why this moment in particular is being repeated is beyond me and pretty much everyone I asked.  Though when I brought the question up to Brann Bronzebeard he insisted it was the most important thing that has ever happened.  

Yeah, we get it Brann.  You’re a hero.

Against my best judgement I decided to just go to the source and ask Rhonin’s ghost himself.  When asked why he was doing this he responded saying “RAISE YOUR EYES TO THE SKYS AND OBSERVE!”  The ear-shattering shout left me too dazed to escape from the rest of his non-sense but after a short stay in Dalaran’s infirmary my hearing had been restored and I was fine.

Once recovered I began seeking an audience with Vereesa Windrunner.  After a week I had one.  When I asked what she thought of Rhonin’s ghost she said “Never talk to me or my sons again.”

Can we talk about Umbral Yarn?

Imagine clans gathering up umbral yarn and tying it in trees around clan borders. When the wind blows, the very land itself howls, warning trespassers to stay away.

Imagine warriors carrying sashes or coils of yarn so that when they run, they run with ghostly howls at their back.

Imagine flags made of the yarn hanging over meeting halls. They’re unraveled to summon clan members, and rolled up and tied again when all are present.

Traps that are sprung when a dragon walks through a piece of yarn, unraveling the entire bundle and instantly alerting everyone that there’s an intruder nearby.

Imagine dragons weaving cloaks with different types from different wolves, so that whenever the wearer moves briskly enough to make a breeze, the cloak songs a song.

I think I’m going to be hoarding umbral yarn.

For Lavellan {{ wildelvenhuntress }}

The sound of wind whistling through her ears. A ghostly howl that sounded like the rushing wave of damned hell fire from the hand of a God she’s not worshipped. Had she not lived with the numbness in the limbs she’d lost years back, she would have been startled from her slumber. But it was the constriction about her face and the scent of a strange place that jolted her heart like a zap from lightning that touched the Earth too close to camp. 

When words reached her ears, she found herself thrusting to an upright position as it all came back to her. The child she was with, the one who’d rushed ahead and entered at the call of the voice. Being engulfed inflames before she, herself, could enter as well. 

“Lethallan.” She panted, feeling the sweat bead about her flesh like ice. But her eyes fell on unfamiliar surroundings. “Lethallan!” She shouted. 

The door opened, a couple men rushing in. Shems, dressed in holy garb and chain mail. They reached forward to calm her but she distanced herself. 

“Where is she?” She barked, holding her one good hand up. 

“Please be still, you’re not healed enough to move.” The man closest to her pleaded, grabbing at her wrist. Wrong move. 

“Where is she!” She snapped, all confusion burning to defensive rage. “Vela-” She yanked back on her hand as he grabbed her arm. The momentum pulled her from the bed as the other man moved in to grab her. “Velahari!” She screamed. Yanking her arm free of the man who held her she swung her body, solid, polished oak colliding with the side of his head. 

The second man drew his sword, ready to subdue her. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t accounting for the fact that she was a mage a heart, although her body was found with a broadsword on it. Grabbing the sword from the sheath of the man who was now huddled, hand grasping at his head, she channeled electricity through the blade and swung. The metal of the blade she used collided with the blade of her opponent, sending a shock through the hilt to his fingers. 

Reeling back he dropped the sword and called for back up. 

“Where is she!” She hobbled, grabbing the man by the front of his armor, using her wooden arm to knock the sword to the ground. 

The door swung open, three or four more men charging in. Templars from what she could tell. “Velahari. Where is-” The man grabbed her wrist and tried yanking himself from her, almost pulling her off her feet. 

“What do you wish with her?” A woman questioned stepping in, grabbing for the sword in her sheath although she motioned for the others to stop fighting. 

“I am Lavellan!” The injured elf snarled. “Tell me of where she is. If she is harmed I will tear this building to the ground!” The woman didn’t move or falter at the threat, instead, all she did was drop her hand from the hilt of her sword. 

“She is safe.” She replied, her eyes steely, short black hair tussled from the wind, cheeks red from the cold. “If you unhand our man, we will take you to her.” She offered, but Keelani had dealt with Shem’s before who made such promises. 

“And if you lie?” She questioned, fingers sparking as she shifted her stance, ready for offense. 

“Why would I lie to you? What purpose would that serve?” The woman retorted, eyebrows furrowed. After a moment of silence, no move being made, the elf dropped the man and the blade

The stern woman said no more, dismissing her men with a nod of her head and making for the bitter cold outside. Keelani attempted to step forward, but the moment her weight gathered on her right leg, it buckled. Reaching down, she turned a small knob, clicking it into place and locking up the joint. 

She hustled after the woman, shivering just a bit as she stepped out into the bitter wind. Shielding her eyes with her hand she looked around. 

A small town it seemed. A large building of worship nearby. The woman with short black hair gave word to a guard who in turn shared a startled look with the seething elf and made for the Chantry. 

“We did not think you would survive.” She replied, walking. “My name is Cassandra Pentaghast, and this…well…this is the worlds only defense.” She introduced, looking back over her shoulder. 

“Only defense against what?” The elf spat. The woman stopped and turned, pointing at the sky. Turning, what Keelani saw made her stomach drop. A hole in the sky, bright and ominious. 

“Creators…”

“Come on. She will want to know you are alive.” Cassandra turned and continued walking. 

Although she moved slowly, Keelani pushed on, hobbling as fast as she could after her. When they reached the large wooden doors of the Chantry, the heat from inside felt like fire as they were pushed open. It was a welcomed feeling. 

Inside, the man who the dark haired woman had spoken too simply pointed. No doubt was he sent forth to let Velahari know that there was someone alive from her group. 

Keelani, however, didn’t wait. Although awkwardly, she ran. She ran past the woman named Cassandra, bursting open the doors the messenger had pointed them to and stopped to find relief. “Lethallan.” She panted in relief.

greenbergsays  asked:

I was gonna say something about Steve's ass and tits being his best physical quality (besides his eyes. and smile. that little tuft of hair when he first wakes up. GO AWAY BUCKY, I'M TRYING TO BE SHALLOW RN) and why would that drawing only show off one of them, that shield is RUDE but then that made me think: completely naked Steve shot from the side, shield coyly positioned to only cover from his thighs to just under his pecs but with his ass still visible. Happy birthday, Barnes.

CODE BLUE CODE BLUE CODE BLUE scream my Ghostly Howling Commando Peanut Gallery.

My Bucky Barnes Muse, however sends his love. Aw hell, he says that there was a time where strip poker happened and Steve was left with ONLY the shield….?

THE MISTY MORN.

I sit beside my window,
Coffee cup in hand,
And I gaze out at the morning,
At the mist enshrouded land.

A bush beside my window,
Cocooned in silvery white,
A work of art outside my door,
Created in the night.

A blurry figure walks on by,
A phantom from the murky fog,
A Jack The Ripper figure,
His presence sensed by a howling dog.

A ghostly rattling from across the road;
A milkman in his coat of white,
Bottles clinking in the gloom,
A screeching cat is put to flight.

The rising sun is a distant orb,
A hazy blur in a sky of grey,
Slowing warming the  swirling mist,
Making way for a brand new day. 

But while the mist still lingers,
I sit here in the morning chill,
My thoughts a million miles away,
My spine a tingling, with an eerie thrill.

Ambrose Harte
Scattered Thoughts

brooklyn the musical act two song list

So basically, this is what I got so far:

The Man Out of Time

You Should Have Left It In the Ocean

Everything Special About You

The Avengers

The Battle of New York

On Your Left

Picking Up An Old Fossil

Never Got That Dance

The Winter Soldier

SNRFB:  The Elevator

Even When I Had Nothing

Project Insight

‘Till the End of the Line:  Reprise

Trouble Man

Your Mother’s Name is Sarah

The Sokovian Accords

United We Stand Divided We Fall

Plant Yourself Like a Tree Beside the River of Truth

It Wasn’t Worth It

Not Without You:  Reprise

Just Two Boys From Brooklyn

And for those wondering:  SNRFB is Situation Normal Rogers Fucking Barnes and that segment is TOTALLY narrated by the Howling Commando Ghostly Peanut Gallery.

Also, I am looking at this list and I am thinking PAIN, PAIN, PAIN AND SUFFERING AND FLOODS OF TEARS before we get to the Happy Ending that’s probably not going to happen in canon because GDI CIVIL WAR but I’m aiming for the happy ending anyway.