06-14-2017, 07:55 PM
The effects of teleportation barely phased Illidan, having slipped through dimensional rifts before. What he stepped out into was nothing like he had expected.
Large structures of concrete, steel and glass littered the skyline to the north, as imposing as mountains. Stormrage had never seen anything like it in his life. Not even the gnomes had built such complex, condensed buildings despite their technological prowess.
Though what he could see was obscured by a dense layer of fog, dolloped and swirling around the unusual buildings like thick cream. It was not unlike the Pale Moors, and remembering his half-conquered verse tensed him up and snapped him back to reality.
Death awaited around every corner in the Moors, and sometimes even in his own castle, but never was that sentiment more true than in a death tournament. Illidan pricked up his pointed ears, crouching and skulking to a nearby concrete barrier. Placing his hands on the rough texture of the wall, he strained his hearing and let his magical sight fan out in all directions.
Nothing twigged. The night elf vaulted over the barrier and moved forward cautiously, darting from cover to cover. His journey through the outskirts of this advanced civilisaton was quiet and uneventful, but letting his guard down was out of the equation. Mystery surrounded him. An alien landscape with alien combatants meant that he could not lose his vigilance for a moment. He had no intention of being slaughtered at all, let alone early in the competition.
Whether it was a desire for greater visual obstructions or a plain tug of his curiosity, Illidan didn't know, but he headed towards those towering buildings that threatened to pierce the sky. Maybe there was more sport out that way, but at least there was more to hide around.
A perfect place to establish an ambush ... or be caught up in one.
Large structures of concrete, steel and glass littered the skyline to the north, as imposing as mountains. Stormrage had never seen anything like it in his life. Not even the gnomes had built such complex, condensed buildings despite their technological prowess.
Though what he could see was obscured by a dense layer of fog, dolloped and swirling around the unusual buildings like thick cream. It was not unlike the Pale Moors, and remembering his half-conquered verse tensed him up and snapped him back to reality.
Death awaited around every corner in the Moors, and sometimes even in his own castle, but never was that sentiment more true than in a death tournament. Illidan pricked up his pointed ears, crouching and skulking to a nearby concrete barrier. Placing his hands on the rough texture of the wall, he strained his hearing and let his magical sight fan out in all directions.
Nothing twigged. The night elf vaulted over the barrier and moved forward cautiously, darting from cover to cover. His journey through the outskirts of this advanced civilisaton was quiet and uneventful, but letting his guard down was out of the equation. Mystery surrounded him. An alien landscape with alien combatants meant that he could not lose his vigilance for a moment. He had no intention of being slaughtered at all, let alone early in the competition.
Whether it was a desire for greater visual obstructions or a plain tug of his curiosity, Illidan didn't know, but he headed towards those towering buildings that threatened to pierce the sky. Maybe there was more sport out that way, but at least there was more to hide around.
A perfect place to establish an ambush ... or be caught up in one.
Quote:Moving C14 -> C15
![[Image: illidansig2.jpg]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2017/07/07/illidansig2.jpg)