- Animated cutscenes from DragonFable.
- Jaania’s Thorns – A DragonFable Design Notes post that provided the backstory for two new background NPC’s.
- Fresh Frydae – A DragonFable Design Notes post that provided a behind the scenes look into the creation of an NPC’s story.
- The Tiniest Troll – A short story inspired by World of Warcraft.
Jaania’s Thorns
February 9, 2016 Design Notes
Maar is a smoldering, smoking mass of rock and glass that lies in the middle of the sea between our continent and Azaveyr. The Five Sisters stand tall over glittering plains of obsidian glass and belch fire and smoke into the reddened skies every century or so. Dragons roost in the peaks and craters of the Sisters, safe and warm in the scorching heat.
On the northern edge of the western peninsula, a once grand city lies in ash and ruin. Not even dragons dare go there. Wind and ash moan through the eerie, silent streets that are lined with obsidian statues. Statutes of citizens and livestock, rodents and insects… they all stand frozen in time as the ash and cinder of the ruins of Pelekoa swirl around them.
It’s said that if you visit Pelekoa on a night when the wind is calm and the waves are asleep and you stand perfectly still, with bated breath, you can hear… very faintly… if you strain your ears and hold your breath… the muffled beat of ten thousand hearts.
Pelekoa, was once a small but shining city that survived for almost a thousand years on the edge of the fiery, inhospitable island of Maar. The citizens and the dragons lived in harmony until, years ago, one young adventurer crept too far into the fiery depths of Maar and was fooled into revealing Pelekoa’s greatest secret. When the Great Fire Dragon burst forth from his lair, not the Guardians of the Fire Tower… not the dragonkeepers… not the few DragonLords that had bonded with dragons from the peaks… none of them could stand against Akriloth.
Now, everything that lived in Pelekoa stands frozen in time as a monument to the beginning of the Great Fire War.
Tephra and Limu are the last citizens of Pelekoa. The twin sisters could only watch in horror from the deck of the ship taking them to Dragonsgrasp as Akriloth destroyed their town in a rain of fire. They survived, while everyone they knew and loved was encased in dragon-fired obsidian. The tears and horror have turned to hope, though… as a woman who was once trapped in ice now walks among the living again.
The twins now stand with The Rose and have become Ahimsa and Tipu, Jaania’s Thorns.
Fresh Frydae
June 30, 2015 Design Notes
Hi guys! In a few weeks the beginning of the end of Blood and Roses begins… to end! /ahem
So, waaaaaay back in September we previewed the concept sketch that Oishii made for the refreshed Frydae and, today, the vampire lord’s artwork is finally done (and it might mysteriously find its way to Book 1)!
Oishii worked with me on the story for Blood and Roses and we strived to plan through the entire storyline and to lay out all the relevant background info. We talked about everything from how people are turned into vampires (need to be drained to the brink of death – too little and you don’t turn, fully drained you will actually die – then drink the vampires blood which is now mixed with yours) and werewolves (one bite and you’re infected) in DF Lore. We talked about what elements affect the curses and how lycanthropy is tied to the moon.
We also spent a lot of time
discussing just who exactly these NPCs in the Doomwood were. What did they
want? Why do they want it? Where did they come from? Making sure we understood
the character, looking at things from their viewpoint, has given the NPCs in
this arc a lot of depth… and a lot of secrets! Even Amaris has a full
character profile and bio!
Here’s the basic character info that that initial sketch of Frydae grew out of:
- Frydae
- Former King of Darkovia
- “Celebrity” vampire
- All flash, elitist – He’s always hidden in the shadows
but now is starting to get bolder.
He’s drinking more blood, venturing out more and is starting to look and feel younger and vigorous.He’s older looking and wizened – he hasn’t fed in years.- REDACTED – NO SPOILERS!
- Motivation: Create elite class of vampires from those
humans he deems “worthy” enough that will take over Lore and rule the
“peasant” class (i.e. anyone or any creature he doesn’t think worthy
enough to be a vampire in his circle).
- The vampires that follow him want to be part of that elite class.
- Afraid/intimidated by Safiria, she’s never hidden in the shadows, she’s ancient and powerful, and she already has minions flocking to her even though she’s just awoken.
Frydae is clever and has bided his time but he’s also arrogant and entitled… he’s not content to let someone stronger just take what he thinks he deserves and he’s willing to go to extreme lengths to get back to the top. Even to the point of giving up his own humanity for the power of darkness….
From The Dark Tower:
Frydae: Do you really think I care? Long ago, I was a King! I held the borders of Darkovia strong against the Drakath dynasty. I accepted this gift to complete my rule over this dark land, but that slug Drakath reduced me to hiding in the darkest shadows. Then he and his children and his children’s children took my kingdom, my legacy, for their own. The once mighty kingdom of Darkovia… reduced to a mere Doomwood within Greenguard. My own descendants were weak. Pitiful. Thursday is still the first and only being who is worthy of the gift I once foolishly offered you. Once she is ready, Thursday will be the first step to regaining my kingdom.
Despite the Drakath’s countering his original scheme hundreds of years ago, he’s doubling down now and betting that Thursday will be the final piece in his plan to see his kingdom regained and a new class of elite vampires to rule over it!
On July 17th, Frydae will finally have Thursday in his clutches in the Darkness Tower! Will Thursday finally be cursed by darkness? Will all of Frydae’s machinations finally allow him to gain all the power and status he’s always felt he deserved? There’s only room for one royal in Doomwood and, with just two quests left in the Blood and Roses chain, which of the warring vampire clans will be the one to claim victory? And where will that leave everyone else that calls Doomwood home?
The Tiniest Troll
A short story inspired by World of Warcraft.
Gaskett hunched over his workbench, sewing together the fingers of his best PvP gloves. It would lower his haste a bit but all his best spells were instant cast anyways. With his final stitch he leaned back and stretched his arms wide, thanking the Aspects that the gnome-sized gloves hadn’t taken much work. He still had one part left to figure out… but his troll disguise was coming together. The little mage proudly surveyed his work.
“Not too shabby for a novice tailor,” he muttered.
Gaskett gazed back up at his master plans that were taped, stuck, nailed, skewered, and pinned haphazardly across the wall of his workshop. He’d pwned a lot of noobs for this… torn and broken pieces of their armor were scattered and stuck among the crudely drawn figures and lists upon lists of crafting materials that fluttered gently on the wall.
Gaskett plucked a picture from the wall. This… this was why he had dropped engineering for tailoring. This was why he had farmed Zul’Gurub for weeks. Why he had to make the perfect disguise….
A wrinkle appeared between his bushy eyebrows and his moustache drooped as he frowned at the picture. It was the last selfie he had taken, during his last battle in Alterac Valley. He shivered as he remembered the feel of the cold steel against his back.
Then a warm flush crossed his cheeks and Gaskett giggled. He carefully stuck the selfie back on the wall and then blew a kiss at the image of the female troll rogue that had managed to backstab him during his moment of hubris. Little hand-drawn hearts surrounded her fierce visage and Gaskett wondered if she would remember their battle. With a sigh he started work on the final, most difficult part of his disguise.
The feet.
Maybe he should have picked up leatherworking too….
The moon was high over Ironforge when he finally finished. The feet were huge and unwieldy but at least he wasn’t melee so they shouldn’t trip him up too much. A sly smile began to inch across Gaskett’s face.
He practically skipped over to his small, hard-worn radio. The rich swells of dwarfish music gave way to static and then drums. As Gaskett danced around his workshop and stomped his tiny feet to the troll beat, the elements of his disguise rose from his workbench and swung around him. Gaskett plucked a strip of rawhide from his disembodied partner and tied the tufts of his hair into a trollish topknot over his bald spot. He flung his arms out and his tailored gloves slipped over his hands before he flipped into an awkward handstand, kicking his legs into the air as the huge two-toed boots jammed onto his feet. He spun to the beat as he equipped his epic troll robes and, as his hand-painted voodoo mask came to rest on his head, he paused and admired his reflection in the rearview mirror of his mechanostrider.
It was time.
Gaskett pulled out a key and unlocked the heavy iron chest in the corner of his workshop. He glanced around and then pulled a torn and dusty horde backpack from its depths. He tossed aside an old scorpiac claw, a peon’s boot, and a voidwalker bracer before finding what he needed in the bottom of the bag… a lowbie orc’s hearthstone.
For a second, Gaskett got lost in the moment, gazing at the hearthstone and imagining the impressed “Taz’Dingo!” he was sure to hear… when the blare of the Alarm-o-Bot brought him back to task. He quickly ice-novaed the bot and nervously watched for guards as he started his stolen hearthstone cast. He prayed his novice stitches hadn’t totally destroyed his haste rating…. The Bot began to shake and break free, but the blare of its alarm just echoed in the empty workshop.
Gaskett had hearthed to Orgrimmar.