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  #251  
Old 06-13-2009, 02:27 PM
Kerrah Kerrah is offline

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Originally Posted by Timolas View Post
Back in Dalaran, Javali and Ulyssan sit comfortably in one of Dalaran's pleasant gardens. They are making pleasant conversation; something that Javali has not done in months. His new role as dictator has left him unable to talk to anyone. All he has had time to do is give orders. Ulyssan has turned out to be a refreshing and charming change.

They are interrupted when Zinizar storms into the gardens, tailed by at least a dozen elves wearing green ritual garments. Javali rises to his feet hastily.
"What's this, Zinizar?"
"These elves are the cause of the disturbance, Javali. They tried to open a portal which got redirected and blew up one of the streets. They're from Quel'Thalas."

One of the elves pushes his way to the forefront.
"Let me explain myself, Zinizar. I have a tongue." he says proudly. "Lord Javali, I am Kariel Winthalus, master of the Benefactors. We are the pagan lords of Quel'Thalas. We congratulate you on your recent... policies."
"Why have you come here?" Javali asks calmly, but plainly.
"Because the world is changing!" Kariel exclaims. "I can feel it in the water... I can smell it... in the air. Much that once was, is lost, for none now live, who remember it."

Javali raises an eyebrow. Kariel continues.
"I come because the Prophet of the Four Gods; the old man of legends, has come to me. He has warned me of what is to come. We pagans must stand together. Or we shall fall."
Quote:
Originally Posted by Wabbajack View Post
After this Skirvar went directly to the seat of Dalaran's rouler.
The guards at the entrace eyed suspiciously .
"What is it?"
"Say your master that Thane Skirvar Thaurissan, regent and ambassador of Ironfoge and the lands of Khaz'Modan wants to speak with him, and that denial of his wishes would equal an act of war."
Before I can do more than raise an eyebrow at the Elf's mysterious talk of a prophet, a servant respectfully approaches us. Bowing down, he announces: "Grand Archmage, a dwarf titling himself Thane Skirvar Thaurissan demands to meet you. He said that failure to comply to his demand will result in war."

The spokesman of the elves lets out a frustrated snort. "I doubt he will have anything constructive to say."

I nod hesitantly, not wanting to seem hostile, but do tell the servant to bring the dwarf hither. After he leaves, I turn back to Winthalus and his ilk. "I'm sorry, but I heard you were behind the catastrophic magical... incident. What kind of situation could you have been in to throw your spell into such a bad disarray?"

He flicks a hand and gives a little laugh. "Nothing to worry of, My Lord. Merely an inconvenience of no concern. What truly matters is what I have come here to tell you."

I see the figure of the dwarf closing in on us from the corner of my eye. Yet, I ask the elf: "And what would that be?"

He does not answer, but instead turns toward the dwarf, a spiteful look in his eyes. I turn at him as well, giving him an expectant look.

[DIALOGUE REQUEST WITH WABBA (SKIRVAR) AND TIM (KARIEL).]
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  #252  
Old 06-15-2009, 04:38 PM
Timolas Timolas is offline


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(Remember Wab, your update hook is in Kerrah's post above. Now this is Spooky's update that he wrote, since he can't access the site.)

Dorath trollbane, harbouring great respect for the tribunal of the Crimson cabal, returned the greeting of magus Aszhard, smiling brightly as he did so
“Indeed I did, noble magi, indeed I did”
Dorath was pleased that the leaders of the ancient magi had answered his calls with such urgency, and in fact he found himself humbled by the presence of these great and mighty magi, members of an organization so old that its age long history far surpassed even that of the nation’s royal bloodline.
It had been many years since the noble tribunal had last set foot within the halls of the royal court, when the nation’s stability had last been threatened by an ever growing band of armed and organized criminals lead by a sentenced defector form the royal legions. These outlaws had succeeded in overthrowing the garrisons stationed at the camps in which they were imprisoned, inspiring similar and equally successful riots in all but a few of the prison camps positioned within Stromgardes heartland.
The crisis had escalated when two legions, dispatched by Stromgarde, were ambushed and massacred within the once great woods on the outskirts of Arathi-point and later when the severed head of the captured tribune was put on display near the walls of Arathi-point itself. Following this most foul act of barbarism, the outlaws had once more retreated to the safety of the surrounding woods and in the following days they continued their reckless raiding of the surrounding farmlands.
It was at this moment that the Crimson cabal had finally agreed, out of respect for the lost legions, to enter the conflict together with legions consisting primary of veterans from the great western wall. When it became apparent that the outlaws lacked sufficient courage to face the wrath of the nation they had so long offended, the powers of the crimson cabal were unleashed upon the rebel encampments within the forest, torching both them and the glade.
When the blackened and smoldering remains of the forest outskirts were later investigated, nothing but ash and a stench of incinerated flesh remained, a mighty warning to every and all would be aggressors. Many a time had that tale been told and Dorath knew well that convincing the ancient magi to join once more with the legions of Stromgarde would require nothing less than a threat whose dread and barbarism would rival that of the rampaging outlaws of old.
It was no secret that Dorath had often studied the history of the Crimson cabal, he knew well that their loyalty and dedication to the ever holy light, supreme faith of both Stromgarde and ancient Arathor, was as eternal as it was unquestioned. Thus Dorath decided to convince the wizards that western development threatened not only the continued survival of Stromgarde itself, but that of its long standing faith.
“Honoured magi of the Crimson Cabal”
Dorath began
“Though it brings me great pleasure that you have once more decided to honour the halls of Stromgardes kings with your enchanted presence, the nature of my summoning demands that I explain to you the dangers now facing our ancient homeland”
The tribunal, though interested, remained silent, waiting for their lord to continue
“Let it be no secret that the world beyond the great western wall is now a world in never ending turmoil”
Dorath continued
“Dalaran, the violet citadel of the west and self-proclaimed center of all things magical, is realizing long hidden ambitions of regional supremacy, uniting lands long considered ours under its false and treacherous banner”
“Armies loyal to the rulers of Dalaran now march north with an unknown purpose, dotting the symbols of each and every Hesperian city state”
Dorath paused for moment, considering his words carefully. He noticed the embittered expressions of the tribunal, obviously provoked by Dalarans recent actions.
“But it is not only the new found strength of Dalaran which is to be feared, for another crisis is emerging in the lands to the west”
Dorath continued, lifting high the invitation from Lordaeron
“Various religions factions now spare for control of the many nations which emerged from the downfall of ancient Arathor and those yet loyal to the faith of Thoradin the great risk terror and death at the hands of blasphemous pagans!”
“Though Lordaeron did not grant us the favor of mentioning any realms which might have succumbed to this worship of idols most false, we do none the less have our own and well-grounded suspicions”
Once more Dorath paused and observed as the tribunal whispered hastily with each other, moved by the words which Dorath had uttered.
“Could it be that Dalaran, having fallen to whispers most foul, has decided to make its move against the single greatest bastion of the ever holy light? That the destruction of our most sacred nation should serve as the ultimate sacrifice to its newfound masters? Or could it be that Dalaran, still true to the path of righteousness, is reacting to a threat most dire? That the north harbors an evil so great that all of Dalaran would be unleashed?
The tribunal now stood pale, silent and emotionless, considering the words which their lord had just uttered and Dorath, deciding to push his advantage, gave them no time to reply.
“The questions are many and the answers unknown”
He said
“The threats we face are a legion and Stromgarde is destined to face them, but we cannot do so alone, we require the assistance of the greatest magi this world has ever seen, first and finest of our spell wielding kinsmen, what we require, is the Crimson Cabal”
“I ask you now, great wizards of the flame, will you join you country in this sacred undertaking and defend her land and honour against those who would wish her harm?
A moment passed as the tribunal considered their answer
“That we are”
They replied in unison
Dorath was greatly pleased but before ending the meeting he decided to make one final statement to the assembled tribunal
“Once more you please me greatly”
He said
“before this meeting four legions and my newest tribune was dispatched to the northlands, I ask you now to assemble your fellow magi and prepare for the journey that is to come, as the presence of the Crimson Cabal will surely be needed amongst the ranks this noble expedition - I shall arrange for you an escort”
The tribunal nodded in agreement and bowed, but as they were about to leave, Dorath spoke once more, this time directly to magus Aszhard
“I would you to stay for a moment, lord Aszhard, for I have to you a special assignment”
Aszhard turned around, facing his lord and awaiting his instructions
“I have prepared a letter to my brother the king, it is of the uttermost importance that it reaches his hand either before or doing the summit the summit of nations which is to be held within the keep on Fenris isle.
Dorath said as he handed the magus the letter, dotting the royal seal of Stromgarde
“If possible I would like you to depart at once and remain by his side until the summit is at an end, I am confident that your presence would be both wanted and appreciated”
The magus then smiled, nodding once more in agreement as he slapped his hands against each other and vanished within an instant.
Once more alone in the throne room, Dorath returned to his seat, arming himself once more with patience.
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  #253  
Old 06-16-2009, 05:23 AM
Xarthat Xarthat is offline

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(The promised before third part of my update, I'm still waiting for Tim to decide whether Kalabrond decided to stay and die or live and be fired out)

Phorcys entered the mysterious halls of the Hareveim. An odd sight - old Vrykul-looking man between the female-only elite sect. Escorted by several members of the sect, he finally stood before the face of the Archhareveim Zinizar.
"My greatest greetings to you, mighty Zinizar" said Phorcys bowing to her. "I have urgent matters to talk with you."
"May the gods be with you, Mnesthiades. What is it so important that you came here personally? You are no longer head of state of Kul Tiras."
"And that's exactly why had I come here. If I had still been a mortal ruler, I would have nothing to you. But once I ascended to be my father's lieutenant in his realm, I got to know much things hidden before mortal minds."
"So you seek knowledge, Lord Phorcys? Just as we do."
"I do not seek knowledge. I have it. And thanks to my divine father, I know that the Scroll you were trying to use to summon the lieutenant of the Azure goddess have been stolen." Consternation fell between the Zininites who started murmuring. "Your beloved Hesperian leader, Javali, ordered it stolen to satisfy his mortal pride, did he not? He took away your knowledge just to be... ruler."
"What concern is it of yours?"
"Because we are both faithful servants of our gods. And I am the only person that may help you know. With my help, you shall get the Scroll back, while Javali would still think he has it. Meanwhile, we summon your lieutenant, and then, start to summon others. Up to the point, where our gods will come here and take their proper place as rulers of the rotten mankind. Is it not the future you all want?"
"How are you going to do that?"
"Let's just say... when my son and his new dalaranian friend goes to the conference, I switch the scroll with a fake one using my magic. Then, I come with it to you and begin the summoning. Then, the beginning of the end of their order... shall begin."

(I hope I managed to generate a feeling of threat and that none of my plans are against the rules)
EDIT: I heard I messed up things a bit so I put my hope on Tim that he edits that out to how that should be.
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  #254  
Old 06-17-2009, 02:24 PM
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Originally Posted by Timolas View Post
Lordaeron

Sherman.

Sherman.

That is the name of the one who stares into the face of death and chants his own name, to remind himself that he is no lesser man.

Sherman has lived a hard life, adopted and being forced to fight for every inch of progress in his career. He proved himself by putting down various lesser pagan rebellions, in one instance earning him the title of Butcher.

Now he is in Strattania, after five years of peace. He has witnessed his king, Alford Menethil, dismantle the People's Front with nothing but words and wisdom. Krowl was brought to justice.

It is time for Sherman to prove himself once more. Upon the walls of Stratholme, he leads the defenses against the swarm of heretics that come to take the realm for themselves. But hours ago, his fleet docked in the north and travelled south into Stratholme. The Lordaeron army was here, under his command, prepared to protect the city from the Maroon Cult and its rampaging gnoll allies.

"I wish Thomassy was with me now." Sherman mumbles to himself. Thomassy had a knack for oiling the army out of unpleasant situations, but Alford had kept him for some special assignments. Lieutenant Borett Pureblood runs his fingers through his slick hair. He is a Witch Hunter, the leader of the chapter sent to accompany Sherman's army.
"Don't worry, Marshal. Not only do we have walls, but we have numbers. The mayor's spies report that the rabble coming our way probably can't even hack its way into the city."
"Aye, you're probably right." Sherman says with a grunt. "But for the love of the Light, the most nerve wracking part is always waiting."
Pureblood grins at his marshal.
"Tis' always good when you admit you're only human, General. Only human, but you get on with the job anyway."
"Shut up and keep a look out, Pureblood." Sherman says with a faint smile.

Suddenly, a massive war cry echoes through the hills before them. It is followed by another bellow, and another, until it turns into a chorus. The earth shakes, and a massive rank of enemy soldiers appears over the ridges. They are followed by more ranks, and more, until it is a sea of steel, fur and blades flooding towards Stratholme. Gnolls and frenzied humans march side by side, two creatures from different worlds unified by one thing that they have in common; a love of violence. The Maroon God, Brux, a god of war and conflict, has unified his vastly different children into one army.

"Light help us." Pureblood mutters.

A lone figure rides forward before the gates of Stratholme. The man is tanned, bearing a splendid green cloak and carrying a sword forged to be carried in two hands in but one hand.
"I am Wiglaf Folles, warlord of the Maroon March! I come on behalf of Amron of the Cult to cleanse your pitiful lands of cowardice! Brux will replenish our souls with battle! I offer no surrender, and there will be no quarter! Sagan's gnolls will feast on your flesh! I will feast on your flesh!"

A roar rises up from the enemy army again, and Folles rides off to join his men. Then the attack begins. Sherman orders the archers to fire at will, and has the gates reinforced further. The assault is violent and utterly bloody. The Maroon cultists do not fear for their lives. They throw them away against the walls of the city, until the waters of the river are bloodied and the bridges are piled with the dead. Ladders are knocked down, but more are brought up. Eventually, the gnolls surge forward with battering rams, hammering the city gates. Sherman cuts and twists as cultists scale the walls, but is soon forced to attend the gates as they begin to give way.
One of the soldiers stops him as he approaches the gates.
"My lord, we cannot hold the gates for much longer! The gnolls have a warlord of their own. He is probably the only thing they fear."
"Sagan." Lieutenant Pureblood murmurs.
"You know of this creature?" Sherman asks.
Pureblood nods.
"Sagan is the lord of the gnolls in the Maroon Cult; at least that is what our witch hunters say."
"Then we will take him down." Sherman replies. "Soldiers, rally behind me! Whatever comes through that gate; you will hold your ground!"

The gnolls smash down the gates, and scream their way into the city. Sherman is the first to meet them. All doubt is gone from his mind. All fear has long since departed him. Sherman raises his shield and sword, and rips through hide, driving the beasts back without stepping back an inch. There is certainly no quarter, just as Warlord Folles had intended.

With their numbers scattered at the gates and their strength buckled at the walls, Sherman's charge drives a wedge straight through enemy lines. Sherman does not stop at the gates, he leads his garrison out of the city and into the enemy horde.

"For Lordaeron! FOR KING AND COUNTRY! ALFORD MENETHIL! RALLY TO ME! DEATH TO THE PAGANS!"

Sagan was noticeably the largest of the gnolls present, bearing two huge axes and blind in one eye. He stands alongside Warlord Folles, overlooking the lost battle, snivelling and cackling; a mad, ferocious creature.
"Take down the hierarchy from the top!" Sherman shouts. "Slay them, for the Light! Death to the Four Gods and all who serve them!"

Sherman and Pureblood dance their way through enemy ranks, and reach the enemy commanders. The duel is short, and Sherman's superior skills quickly bring Folles to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

Sagan is less simple. A whirlwind of axe, claw and tooth, the gnoll lord catches Pureblood at a disatvantage and batters the man to the ground. Sherman is uncertain if his friend is dead, but is nonetheless driven on by vengeance and hatred, until he plunges his sword through Sagan's mouth and skull, back, back, until the blade sinks into the bloodied earth, pinning the gnoll lord to the ground.

The battle is won.

Pureblood survives, though he is badly injured. Casualties are at a minimum. Indeed, the battle is probably the most heroic and glorious Sherman has ever fought in his carrier. Along with his soldiers, he is hailed through the streets of Stratholme as saviour that night.

Yet, one main thing remains.

What to do next. The hammer has fallen, and the Maroon March is defeated. There is a lot left to do, however. The Witch Hunters keep him updated; Tyr's Hand is under siege. Corin's Crossing, the headquarters of the Maroon Cult, is still standing. To the west, Hearthglen resists him under Canbrad and the new People's Front.

Sherman and his soldiers are the last hope in retaking Strattania, as the main army to the west has not been able to breach the People's Front.

The Witch Hunters bear him a letter from the Witch Hunter commander in the west.

To Marshal Sherman,

My lord, we made no dent against Hearthglen. Word has arrived quickly of your triumph, and our network of communication remains healthy. However, we must make a gamble. The People's Front is poised to move on Andorhal and cut off our supplies, and we hear that Tyr's Hand will soon fall. With your victory, we fear that the Maroon High Council at Corin's Crossing will escape before we can catch them. If you move on one city, we may lose another. What are your orders? Our Witch Hunter chapters are at your service.

Yours sincerely,
Witch Hunter Commander Adaen Melrache
Sherman looked to the sky, thinking. After such a glorious moment, he was already facing a very difficult decision. That bastard Canbrad and his cronies held most of eastern Midland and, having been pushed back at Hearthglen, the main army wouldn't reach any of the cities in time of defending it from the rebels. Still, Hearthglen was merely a city, while Andorhal was the core of the kigdom's grain distribution. If they lost Andorhal, the kingdom would starve.

On the other hand, they had to go to Tyr's Hand's defense as soon as possible, but he the thought of letting those Maroon barbarians escape disgusted him. It would be a gamble, but a necessary one.

Sherman: Lieutenant Pureblood, send word back to Commander Melrache to fall back to Andorhal as quickly as possible. The rebels have good chances of reaching it before them, but even then they might be able to arrive in time. Warn the other Witch Hunter chapters in the kingdom to move to retake Midland along with the main army. I doubt they have anything more important to do.

Pureblood: What about us, Marshal?

Sherman: We, Pureblood? We march to Corin's Crossing along with any soldiers left in Stratholme. Send a call to arms to nearby towns like Westholme or Darrowshire and tell them to meet with us. *grinning* Because next, Pureblood, we'll show those shit-colored bastards what happens when they mess with James Sherman.

Quote:
In Ambermill, Court Wizard Thomassy arrives on his errand on behalf of Alford Menethil. He identifies himself at the city gate and is led directly to the town hall. There he is met by a platoon of elite guards and escorted inside to the council hall. A tall and imposing figure stands staring out of a window at the city. His head is crowned by gentle black hair, falling around in curls. He turns to reveal a face with sharp features, high cheekbones and deep, green eyes.
"It's been a long time, Grigori."
"Ah, Thomassy. What an honour. Sit, sit." Grigori Dosantos beckons, and walks up to join his old comrade. "How are things in Lordaeron, Thomassy? I haven't visited in years."
"As fine as they could be with pagans causing trouble - but I'm not here about pagans. I'm sure you've had enough problems with pagans." Thomassy says gruffly.

Grigori Dosantos attains a distant expression, and he bites his lip.
"Yes, Thomassy. I've had some problems with pagans as well. In fact, you've arrived at a rather bad time. As we speak, that son of a hound who rules Dalaran is sending my own armies against me. My own armies! Can you believe it? General Marius, once a man who was barely good enough to lick my boots is now trying to usurp me!"

Thomassy sighs and rubs his cheek nervously.
"Tough times, yes. Don't worry, Grigori. I haven't forgotten your plight."
Grigori seems to be becoming upset, and Thomassy fumbles with his sleeve half heartedly.

"You haven't forgotten my plight? Oh, well, I hope not, dear Thomassy! For you see, the army of Dalaran is on my doorstep as we speak! They're at the Port now! They've sunk some of our ships. Archmage Saadhal barely got away. He had to sacrifice William as a decoy to get out of there alive."
"Ah, poor William. He was so good at cards." Thomassy grumbles.
"So why are you here, Thomassy?"

"Let's face it, Grigori. You're fighting a losing battle out on your own here. I'm your friend, but I'm not going to get myself killed for nothing. But I want to help you. Sadly, I can't help you while there are pagan armies in Lordaeron. So come with me. Get out of here, Grigori. You're only going to get yourself killed. Come with me to Lordaeron, and help me fix up these rusty old machines of absolute death and carnage we dug up in the royal gardens."

"Abandon the Kirin Mora? Thomassy, why do you think life is so simple?" Grigori says with a sigh, raising the palm of his hand to his face to hide his despair. "No. I am not going anywhere. What do you want with machines, anyway? I'm not an engineer."

"The golems we uncovered offer us a chance to unleash a mechanism of domination upon our enemies." Thomassy says, as if ignoring Grigori's doubts. "I am not as powerful a mage as you, so I'll need a member of the Council of Six in the very least to get these things working. If you don't want to come, then send Estheren or that other member of the Council who sided with you."

Grigori stands up as if to walk away.
"Estheren is dead. So is Cerelius. I am the last rebel member of the Council. The Kirin Mora lives because I live. But there is hope. I have contacted the Perinany Legion; they are considering pooling their forces to assist me."
Thomassy shrugs.
"Grigori, if you help me, I will help you. Lordaeron can turn its attention to Dalaran if domestic affairs are settled."

Suddenly a horn is sounded. Soon, a soldier runs into the room.
"Milord, the Dalaran legions are moving into the farmlands and it will not be long before they attack. What are your orders?"

Grigori returns to Thomassy's side.
"Help me, Thomassy. You've always been a damn brilliant genius. I know because we studied magic together and I remember how sharp you were. I'm fighting a losing battle here. My forces are depleted and my best magi are dead. Fight this last one with me, and I'll help you. And don't just tell me 'yes', tell me how you're going to save the day, hero."
Thomassy: *chuckles* Heh Grigori, I had a feeling you wouldn't help me right away. Heh, don't worry, I'll help you, but you'll owe me one. A big one. And this one you won't be able to pay with dwarven booze.

Dosantos: *smirking* Get your brain working out a strategy Thomassy, and we'll take care of diplomacy later.

Thomassy: *pondering* Well Grigori, as you obviously know, I'm a master of illusions. I'm already thinking of a rather terrifying one we can pull, but I'll need 4 or 5 of your wizards to pull it off. Preferably ones with big mana pools - they're gonna work as my batteries. And since you have some Witch Hunters here, I think we'd better use them to ambush the enemy wizards, lest they try some anti-illusion shenanigan.

Dosantos: *curious* What kind of illusion Thomassy?

Thomassy: I won't spoil the surprise for you Grigori, but I can tell you that, if all goes according to plan, it'll go down in history as the most awesome illusion ever cast!
Oh and Grigori, have one of your servants get me some Dreamfoil leaves and a pipe. I'll need to be in a trance to pull this one off.
  #255  
Old 06-17-2009, 03:26 PM
Timolas Timolas is offline


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Battle at Ambermill

Evening begins to descend upon the battlefields of the western shores of Lordamere Lake. There is a brief hour of near silence as both sides move into position.

Upon the walls of the rebel city of Ambermill, the Kirin Mora magi under Grigori Dosantos and Court Wizard Thomassy issue orders to the local battalions. Though inferior in numbers, the Ambermill armies have the advantage of walls and terrain. To the north, Port Ambermill is clearly preparing for the brunt of Dalaran's first decisive attack.

On the opposite end of the battlefield, Archmage Augusta and several of her elite spellcasters ride out to accompany two flanks of cavalry. From behind the lines, General Marius sits atop his steed, musing and pondering, plotting and planning. He can see that the struggle with Saadhal's ships has cost him dearly, but the dent in his ranks is barely enough to cause him to worry. After all, it is half of Dalaran's might that is on his side in this battle. Ambermill will surely not stand against him in this.

"It's time." Thomassy murmurs. For once his relaxed approach is replaced by worry. Grigori nods at him reassuringly.
"You do what must be done, Thomassy. See us through this."
Just beneath the walls of Ambermill, Thomassy leads a circle of Kirin Mora magi in a detailed ritual. A circle is drawn, and Thomassy sits in its centre, preparing his mixture of Dreamfoil to inhale it for the spell he prepares to cast.

Still standing on the walls, Grigori Dosantos spreads his arms wide. His worried soldiers look up to him for support and words of encouragement.
"Look to the east. What do you see? I will tell you what I see! I see my brothers in arms. Those men before us were comrades from Dalaran. But now they serve a dictator; a man who uses pagan heresy to attain power. A dictator who would take from you all that you love and replace it with imperialism and madness! So stand tall, and remember that tonight, you will fight for Dalaran as it should be, rather than Dalaran as it is now!"
The soldiers raise a semblance of a war cry, though it is clear that they are afraid.

Then a horn is sounded; but it is the horn of General Marius. The cavalry of Dalaran charge towards the meagre defenses of Port Ambermill. The Port is exposed and vulnerable, as the rebel army is poised at the city rather than the shore. Grigori knows that the Port will not hold.
"Forward! March!" he calls.

The rebel army moves to intercept the Dalaran ranks. Meanwhile, Thomassy continues his ritual. He remembers one thing; he must not cast his spell before the Witch Hunters do their work.

Meanwhile, the hills above the battlefield are host to a silent company, moving stealthily towards the rear lines of the Dalaran army. They are the Witch Hunters, sent by Archbishop Marden of Lordaeron to reinforce the Kirin Mora. The time has come for them to prove their worth. Under the setting sun, they are concealed; figures in black, with rapiers, razors and crossbows of every kind. Their target; the magi at the rear of Dalaran's army.
Captain Olsen of the company swears silently to himself as he sees that most of Dalaran's magi have set off on horseback to attack Port Ambermill in the distance. The number of available targets that the Witch Hunters can take are at a minimum.

Fortunately, on the field of battle, the rebel forces seize the advantage. They crash into the ranks of enemies that were marching on the Port rather than the city, catching them unprepared. The Port seems to be safe, for now.

Then Captain Olsen and his Witch Hunters creep down from the hills. The Dalaran rearguard is positioned in formation, with several large tents set up around the beaches and hills. This is the basecamp that was hastily set up during the hours of the day. The Witch Hunters can smell their targets. They move undetected, and can see lines of magi focused on the battle ahead. Taking cover behind a set of crates and supplies, the Witch Hunters load their crossbows and take aim. The magi do not expect the volley, and are helpless to defend themselves against it. Several of them fall immediately. This rouses the attention of the entire rearguard, however. General Marius reins his horse, and calls out.
"Assassins! Slay them!"

Captain Olsen draws two swords that were strapped to his back, and takes a wild gamble. The rearguard magi have been crippled, but the prime target remains. Olsen charges at General Marius. The General returns the favour, and spurs his horse towards the Witch Hunter captain. Olsen jumps just before collision, swinging his rapier at the General's exposed throat. He does not expect the General to punch him in the face midair. Olsen lands with a crash into the dust, as Marius wheels his horse around.
"Rebel scum."

Olsen lifts his head to see his comrades being slaughtered by the rearguard. They are making a last valiant defense with their backs to heaps of supplies. In their last struggle, they set fire to the supplies, but are cut down just after. Finally, Olsen rises to make a last stand, but Marius' horse kicks him back, and the General runs the captain through.

Back at Ambermill, Thomassy can feel the lull in the magical defenses of Dalaran's main army. Now is the time. He inhales the Dreamfoil, and begins an incantation as he begins to fall into a trance.

Thomassy is the best illusionist in the kingdom, if not in all of the Eastern Kingdoms. This will be the hour to show Grigori Dosantos what he is really capable of.

He focuses, envisioning the numbers of the rebel army increasing. To the enemy, it will appear as if the Kirin Mora have two, no three times more the number of soldiers than they have actually deployed. Thomassy grins as he feels the magic take effect, spreading in a gust across the battlefield. Then he focuses again, as his mind frees itself from the restrictions of the flesh. To the enemy soldiers, the Kirin Mora will appear as fellow Hesperians; they will not be able to distinguish friend from foe.

The battle is raging on. The Hesperians, already taking heavy losses from the rebel advance, are suddenly forced to lower their guard before what appear to be their fellow soldiers. Confusion sets in, as it seems that they are suffering friendly fire. The illusion is taking affect.

Thomassy can sense their outrage and despair, and continues to amplify the illusion. Victory seems certain.

And then he feels it; a shockwave of frustration and anger. It rocks him to the core.

A mile away, Archmage Augusta, chief of Marius' magi, is blasting aside the defenders of Port Ambermill. Having been absent from the rearguard, she survived the Witch Hunters. She can easily see through the illusion cast by the enemy magus.
"What a disgrace. Do our soldiers have such weak minds?" she calls out to her wizards around her. "Janine, Yolda, Henrikos, dispatch a message to Marius! Tell him that our rearguard is to focus on dispelling the illusion! Go!"
Three of her magi ride off to deliver the message.

Then Augusta focuses. She traces the source of this illusion, and shuts her eyes.

Thomassy hears her in his mind.
"I am coming for you."
Thomassy flocks to her call.
"Then come, old hag. Let's see how you do during a real battle."
Augusta feels her senses assaulted by a sense of subtle horror; the illusionary magic of her rival magus tearing into her sensibilities. She regains focus, and looks to the magi around her.
"We have work to do."

Dalaran

General Marius dismounts and looks over his blade, drenched in the blood of the Witch Hunter captain. He cleans it on the corpse of one of his enemies and turns to his men.
"First of all, put out that damn fire before our supplies are history! And second!" he grates. "Somebody tell me how those men got in here, before I really lose my temper!"
One of Marius' aides frantically tries to restore order, before returning his attention to his General.
"They used the highlands to get behind our lines, my lord. That is the only explanation. It's a good thing we stopped them when they did; they could have done a lot of damage."

Marius sighs and dons his helmet, just as three of Augusta's magi ride into camp.
"What word from the front lines?"
"My lord!" one of them says hesitantly. "Ill news... the enemy is using illusionary magic to confuse our forces. It's - it's a slaughter. We need to redirect our magic from offensive to dispel the illusion."

The General kicks the corpse of the Witch Hunter captain in frustration.
"Damn them!"
Nervously, the magus continues.
"My lord, we have several options. Augusta seems bent on taking the fight straight to the caster of the illusion, to take him out. She also advises that we pool our magi here to dispel the illusion."
"Our rearguard magi were assassinated." Marius hisses.
"Well." the emissary mutters. "Then we are at your disposal. General; the illusion can be broken if we take out the source of the illusion, Augusta is right. However, our forces are already suffering heavy losses. While they have understood the machination and are adapting to it, we may lose many men tonight."

Marius takes all the information into account.
"I see. Well then, it is a gamble. We can push and drain our numbers, and hopefully take them out in one fell swoop. Or we can wait."
"Wait, my lord?" the magus asks.
"Yes, emissary. For you see, it will not be long before Count Dorian of Nevezia arrives with his army. We may be fractured now, but if we wait, we can avoid casualties and then take Ambermill. On the other hand-" Marius considers. "We will lose time, and that will allow the Kirin Mora to regroup, or retreat. We can sacrifice our vanguard, or perhaps retreat-"
"Augusta, my lord." the emissary presses.
"What of her?" Marius responds.
"I believe she is indeed going to attack the source. Shall I stop her? What orders shall I relay to the troops?"

Kul Tiras

Kalabrond's eyes glaze over as Xanthus gives him his choices.
"But lord, I have served for-"
"Be quiet, Kalabrond." Xanthus commands. "The charade is over. Begone from my sight, or be executed!"

The former Vizier makes a low bow, and turns to leave. Before exiting the chamber, he looks back one last time.
"What I've done, I've done for Kul Tiras. Whatever you may believe, I am loyal to Admiral Thaumas. I do not know why Phorcys spoke of me so. But-"

"Get out!" Xanthus spits.

Kalabrond halts whatever he was going to say, and vanishes from the court.





I'll post the rest of the updates tomorrow.
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Last edited by Timolas; 06-17-2009 at 04:44 PM..
  #256  
Old 06-18-2009, 03:42 AM
Kerrah Kerrah is offline

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I didn't get to update last turn!

Later today I'll write a proper text on everything I wanted done but couldn't because Wabba died.
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Last edited by Kerrah; 06-18-2009 at 03:51 AM..
  #257  
Old 06-18-2009, 06:05 AM
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Originally Posted by Kerrah View Post
I didn't get to update last turn!

Later today I'll write a proper text on everything I wanted done but couldn't because Wabba died.
[OOC] what do you mean he died?
  #258  
Old 06-18-2009, 03:26 PM
Kerrah Kerrah is offline

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Originally Posted by xie323 View Post
[OOC] what do you mean he died?
OOC: We were supposed to have an in-character chat, but he hasn't been online for like four or five days.

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

After the meeting with the elves and dwarf, I leave for other business. Ulyssan starts to turn away from me, but I grasp his shoulder. "Wait, boy. I think you can be of use again."

I look into his eyes and ask: "You're a Lightist, are you not?"

He stares in surprise for a second. "Uh, yes, sir. How did you know?"

"Educated guess. I have a thing related to your faith I want to accomplish and I'd like you to accompany me, just in case."

He tilts his head and asks what it is I have in mind. As I tell him, first his mouth opens with surprise and then closes to allow him to show a smile.



An hour later we enter the Church of the Holy Light of Dalaran.

While roughly one half of the citizens of the state are Zininists and a little less than one quarter do not belong to a church, roughly twenty five percent of Dalaranians are Lightists. My support is the lowest among that part of the populace. It's time to do something to change that.

Dalaran does not have a cathedral since its state does not support religious building projects of any kind. However, the city's church is still a large building, currently housing several hundred people who are ready for their daily prayer hour.

It doesn't take long after I walk into the main corridor leading to the altar that people realise it is me among them. At first there is whispering, then people speak of me openly and finally some start to shout insults at me. None dare walk closer, however, since four fully armoured soldiers stand at my sides.

"Murderer!"

"Tyrant!"

"Infidel!"

"Monster!"

"Demon!"

I scoff and wait for a holy man to come. One does see me but immediately runs away. However, a minute later he comes back, bringing Bishop Henry with him. I bow down as the bishop comes near, showing him respect which seems to take him by surprise.

"Why are you here?" He shouts, barely audible over the angry yells all around us.

"Please quiet down your followers," I demand before answering his question.

He hesitates before turning around and asking everyone to quiet down. It takes him a minute to get them to stop shouting, though they are still loudly conversing with each other. I nod, pleased, and announce: "I have come here to give you what belongs to you."

Before he can ask me to explain my cryptic statement, I point my hand backwards. Beyond the open doors is a large horse-cart full of treasures and gold. "All the possessions of the Church of the Holy Light which were previously held by the Archivists. Their monetary value measures up to ten thousand gold coins."

Bishop Henry stares in silent surprise for a whole minute before uttering: "Thank you, but... why?"

I smile. "I do not have anything against your religion. What belongs to your church shall be held by the church. The Archivists were supporting the Kirin Mora rebels behind my back, and paid the price. That does not give me the right to steal.

And speaking of which..." I lean forward and look deep into his eyes, putting on a grim face. "If a copper coin's worth of that money goes to enemies of the State and the Nation, you will suffer an even worse fate than the archivists did."

He nods absentmindedly. I lean back and smile again. "Now, my friend Ulyssan here was saying great things about your sermons and I felt like staying to listen to one. Please do proceed with the rituals, Father." I turn around and walk to one of the benches, bringing my body guards and the young wizard with me and leaving the bishop once again dumbstruck.

[Tim can continue the scene from here, but it's not necessary.]



Even later that day, during the late evening dinner, I am sitting in the head of a grand table. At my right side is Zinizar, my to-be wife and at my left Ulyssan, who will fill another role in my life soon. Next to the archhareveim sits the King of Kul Tiras and his retinue. The rest of the seats are filled by Dalaran's magocrats, nobles and important officials. The cause of the feast is the upcoming alliance of the two nations, Hesperia and Kul Tiras.

The room is the most beautiful one in the Violet Citadel, reserved only for events such as this; The walls are full of exquisite paintings of historical and mythical events and an enormous chandelier hangs over the table. A small band of musicians are performing delightful chamber music. The dinner consists of game from all across Hesperia, fish from the coastal cities, pastries, both salty and sweet, the finest fruits from the southern islands and an almost ridiculously wide assortment of wines. As the crown of the entire table is a rare delicacy brought all the way from the distant land of Stormwind: An enormous boar stuffed with truffles.

Eventually, most everyone finishes their eating and drinking and I stand up, gathering their attention and silencing the music. I speak up:

"It is indeed a great night today for all who love art in this room. Not only because of the soul-touchingly beautiful music of Maestro Majorana and the lively paintings by four hundred years' worth of great visual artists, but also because of what I am going to tell you now." I nod at a servant near me and he walks to open a door.

There's a tall man in a suit behind. He steps in and bows down. I introduce him. "This is Gentile Sacchetti, the great playwright of our time. I invited him to Dalaran from Andriano a day ago with a proposal of work in mind... Maestro Sacchetti, please let these people be cured of their curiousity."

The man gives me a curt nod before speaking to the people: "I will be writing an opera named Maria and Draco: Darkness and Starlight. It shall retell the events of the Tirasian war from sixty years in the past." There is a slight buzz of talk among the people and the Tirasian king seems especially puzzled. The playwright continues: "The two lovers, Maria, a Fireznean noblewoman, and Draco, a Tirasian general, discover that the war between their nations is caused by a third party, an evil Stromgardean noble who is pitting foreign nations at each other to help King Trollbane rule an even greater land. They must make their countrymen understand that the war is folly and they should be fighting a common enemy instead."

There. If any present to Kul Tiras is great, this is: A masterpiece opera which paints them in a heroic light during the war of the past which most people still remember with anger. For thousands of years, the play will gain popularity and eventually it is the only record of the war people will remember.

[Tim or Xarth can continue the scene from here, though it's not necessary.]
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Pliny the Elder
True glory consists in doing what deserves to be written; in writing what deserves to be read; and in so living as to make the world happier for our living in it.

Co-creator of UFS, a joint urban fantasy setting.

Last edited by Kerrah; 07-13-2009 at 01:15 PM..
  #259  
Old 06-20-2009, 11:28 AM
Kerrah Kerrah is offline

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Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
*Skirvar walks in and bows before Javali*
Greetings, oh great Javali. And greetings again, Kariel Winthalus, my dear friend!

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*Does a curt bow of his own*
Good day to you, Master Dwarf.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
What in the gods is the meaning of this? Why have you followed me, littlebeard?
Someone get this thing out, before my sensitivities are further offended.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I? Followed? But my friend, it wouldn't cross my mind to follow you.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Hmm... *rubs his beard*
*a servant leans down and whispers in his ear*

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
And yet here you are, the cause of the destruction of the street of my fair friend here; and uninvited.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I wanted to talk with you, oh mighty Javali, about.. political problems,

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Pah, what does a monkey know about politics?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Please, my friends
Let each other speak without these ill words

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Thank you.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
You spoke your name to my doormen, but I would like for us to be introduced officially, Master Dwarf.
Javali, the Grand Archmage of Dalaran, at your service.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I am Thane Skirvar Thaurissan, current regent of Ironforge, leader of the greater clan of the Darkiron and head sorcerer of Khaz'Modan.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*shakes hands with Skirvar*

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
The street, that was a merly a accident, I hope it isn't to much damage

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
...this is what you get when lesser races play with spells.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Ah, luckily there were no personal damages.
But please
I would like an explanation on how this all took place

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Lesser race? I admit, we are a nearer to the ground as your people

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*rolls eyes* Master Kariel, do let Master Skirvar speak.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
We needed a portal to the great city of Dalaran, and I think that I sadly was a bit out of shape, and overdid it.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Ah.
Where were you coming in from, exactly?

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Allow me.
Yesterday, I found this dwarf and his friends ambling around Quel'Thalas, lost. I was gracious enough to take him in and discuss terms with him. He decided to accompany us to Dalaran, and took over creating the portal.
But it seems I might have been too kind.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*mutters inaudibly*

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Pardon me, what was that?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Hum, nothing.
What gave you such a drive to travel to my home city, Master Kariel and mighty Thane?

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
I believe I already hinted at my intentions. As for the dwarf, I can't imagine what he wants from you. I'll let him speak for himself.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I wanted to speak with you about the coming storm, and the position of our homes.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Coming storm? Would you be referring to the increasing religious intolerance of the nations of Lordaeron?

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I talk about the war that is brewing.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
And a war which will consume the entire continent! Our master has foreseen it!

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
You master is not the only one who thinks so, dear lord Winthalus.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Please, Master Elf, I deal with enough religious raving day to day without you coming in to add to it.
*turns back to Skirvar*
Yes... The war we all know is coming but yet none wants.
From what I have understood, the Dwarven homeland is Lightist by law, even though there are sizable Muharist minorities.
Am I right?

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
You heard tright.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Now, mighty Thane, are you here to ask my position in an upcoming war?

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I want to ask if Dalaran is against or for tolerance. And choose your answer carefully.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*laughs loudly and warmly*
If I could go into wedlock with a word, Master Skirvar, it would be "tolerance".
I have made it my business to ensure that each group within the populace is equal before the law.
Even though some have gravely misunderstood my intentions.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
But for how long? Until the pagan have superior strength?

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
I warn you both, that I will not be kind to the Light when I have the upper hand.
They will feel what I have felt!
But I do this for the good of the world.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Let me assure you, I do not share mind with Master Kariel here.
If a group of Bruxists burn down a Lightist church and kill a priest, they will be hanged for the crime; if a group of lightists burn down a pagan temple and kill its mystic, they will be hanged as well.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
The god of the Light does not deserve that much mercy.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Surely you know that Light has no gods, Kariel?

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
The Light has a god. He is called the Archbishop. A corrupt man who twists words and kills those who oppose him!

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
The Archbishop is a puppet of Lordaeron, and he must be put down, that is true.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
The Archbishop lets men like General Sherman, the Butcher himself, loose to threaten his enemies.
For acts like that, I can not forgive him.
But that does not mean I want him dead and his religion wiped off the face of Azeroth.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I have a suggestion to stave off the anger of the Lightists.
Do the same as I will do when I return to Ironforge: Build a Cathedral for both the Light and the Pagan gods in the name peace between both. Divided churches only make the people divided.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Little man, how can you possibly hope to build a religious building for two faiths so opposed to one another?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
I agree, you could never make that work.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Maybe I could test it in Ironforge. Would you reconsider if it would work there?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
If you can find a way to make it work, I will no doubt try it.
If you find a way to turn mud to gold, please share that recipe as well.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Very well then!
I have a question: Is it possible to... contact your gods, maybe through a medium, or a prophet?

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
A prophet, you say? Well...

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
There is the legend.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
A legend.
Or is more than a legend?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
That a single individual lived once, who was a direct minion of the Viridian Father.
Some spoke that he was not even a mortal man, but something more.
He vanished a little before Thoradin united the tribes and created Lightism.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
I see you have a taste for history and culture, Javali.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
All self-respecting Magocrats have a taste for history and culture, but thank you still.
In any case, the Viridian Prophet was exchanged into the Prophet of Light.
And a new era was born.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Which is why I am here.
What would you say if such a legendary figure was poised to lead us again?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*hesitates*

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Consider it, for a moment.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
I will have to think about this matter before I can react to it.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
And I trust that you, master dwarf, have something important to say as well, or else you would not have interrupted me.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I have several matters.
I heard the terrible news about the treachery of the Archivists.
But I wanted to ask: What happened with the Archives?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
I had them respectfully put away.
For prophecies are dangerous things.
If even one should be lost into the hands of the masses, they could cause panic and fear untold.
The archives are now in a safe place, and will be left there for some time
After we can be sure there aren't people wanting their hands on them for the wrong purposes, we will allow a study team to begin sorting through them.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Fear can be a powerfull weapon if used right. But I see that you made up your mind. Now to another matter:
I wanted to propose an alliance between Dalaran and Ironforge.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Ah, now this is unexpected.
What kind of alliance?

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
And now we come to the root of my coming.
Already I talked with the dwarf of the possibility of a union.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Mostly an alliance of trade and knowledge, but in the case we could help one another against enemies.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
But tell me, dwarf. What does a Light respecting Ironforge want out of an alliance with paganism?
Or at least, with Dalaran.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*scowls*
Dalaran is not a pagan state, Master Elf.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
I know your Archareveim better than you do, I am sure. And her presence here is enough to tell me that whatever politics you play with, she is already in charge.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Bah, poppycock.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
You may pretend otherwise, no doubt. But you are no longer in control of the what will transpire, Javali!
You will see.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Ironforge would be ally to you Javali, and it would help you in nearly all matters
I heard of your army, and they surely need weapons and armor, don't they?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Let me think...
I must admit our plain-filled country is not a chief producer of metals.
We have historically compensated with magic.
I am sure a trade pact would be good for all of us.
But why make it a full-blown alliance?

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
We dwarves don't have many troops, but we mined for ages and never had a war. We could trade miuch of the metal away, or even forge for you

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
And what does Ironforge seek such a treaty for?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Why such a lust for war?

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Even Khaz'Modan isn't invulnerable. who knows what would happen if the wrong kingdom won the war?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Ah...

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
So you would infiltrate dwarven control into the north?

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I don't understand, Winthalus.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
We know of your fortress in the Hinterlands. Perhaps, dwarf, you would make deals with us only so that you can make us dependent on you.
But I am willing to gamble, as always.
So I will make my own proposal.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I don't gamble, I win.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Time will tell, I think.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
That's a bold thing to say.
But now, I can still understand you wanting a trade pact
but why an alliance?
Will that not simply put you in danger of being in the receiving end of hostilities?

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
We already are- We have a growing number of pagans, and the lightist kingdoms like Strom won't tolerate them

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Stromgarde...

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Ah, what a wonderful country for us to consider!

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
They are known for their aggressions south and west.
As well as their hate for paganism.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
A kingdom between enemies...

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Master Skirvar
I will sign a pact with you after some consideration... and consulting another party.
I would not have told this to you otherwise, but I am currently in the process of signing a treaty of Armed Alliance with Kul Tiras and its monarchy.
I think the High Admiral ought to know if his to-be ally is allying with someone else as well.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Excellent. Then half my work is already done.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Do as you must, Javali.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Consider me your friend in these matters. Quel'thalas is on the brink of a civil war, and the trollish armies of Zul'Aman are mobilizing.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
About the Trolls
I have fears that some of them serve a hidden master

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Please elaborate.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Ah, so there are things you did not tell me about your time in that forest.
I knew there was more to it than you told me, littlebeard.
If you were hiding anything, consider your life at risk.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*scowl*
Not while in my garden, Master Elf.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
There are many times and places to take a life.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
On my mission I was to be escorted to the great shrine of Ula'tek by the word of their leader.
But my escort brought me to the boarder of Quel instead and said that he has another master, someone their leader seems to not know about

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Well. What we do know is that Zul'Aman was aiming towards unification.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
An united troll nation might be a threat to us all.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
I don't think that such is a question.
But a statement of fact.
Our attempts to infiltrate the leadership eschelon... failed. Let us say that much.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Maybe they could be directed into another enemy, an enemy south to them, one that they hate nearly as much as you elves.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
I do not pretend to hide my satisfaction that they might be a valuable tool to destroy Silvermoon.
Mnesthes has already tried to engineer them to that purpose.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
And get control of the Well?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*frowns*

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Rather, they will attempt to.
And that is where we pick up the pieces.
Unfortunately, my master was unable to influence the High Warlord.
So we cannot count on the trolls limiting their invasion to the north.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
But we are once again wandering to topics I would not have spoken in my home.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I have an idea
We should reschedule our allience plan, and maybe I could talk with Strom about an "alliance" against the trolls, if you know what I mean. Two enemies mauling one another

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Hmm...
Such underhanded tactics are not something I will accept lightheartedly.
But I am inclined to try anything to spare my homeland from its enemies.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
The trolls are far from us. They will not be a problem.
They will have to hack through many Lightist nations before they reach the south.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Stromgarde is near to us.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
And thus you must focus on the problem that is Stromgarde.
Leave the trolls to the Benefactors.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Your words do make sense, Master Kariel.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Why attack Strom if the trolls could do that?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
I am not going to attack anyone.
But I am worried of an attack from the Highlands.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
I am proposing that we Benefactors stand with Dalaran and Kul Tiras.
With good reason.
And that is why you need us just as we need you.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Do the Benefactors have troops?
Resources?
Lands?

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
We own southern Quel'Thalas as it is. We are the favoured children of Mnesthes! And we are the last link you may have to the prophet of legend.
We will look to our own borders. Do not fear.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
And will allying with you earn me the hostility of many a nation?

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Few even know we exist.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
By all accounts, Quel'Thalas is just that; Quel'Thalas under his Highness Anasterian, the fool.
But he does not control the southern lands.
What we want is to replace him.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
I see.
But there are concerns.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
And what are your concerns?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Dalaran has a honorary tie with the Sunstriders.
Our city was founded by a wizard who was apprenticed by King Anasterian during the Troll Wars.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
And when was the last time that a Sunstrider inconvenienced himself to help Dalaran?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Never, but neither have they allied with the Kirin Mora.
Or any other rebel group.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Because they only keep to themself

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Quel'Thalas is isolationist, the dwarf is right.
You can expect that whatever happens to you, Silvermoon will not care.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
I see.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
No hand will stretch out to shelter you from the Light.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Please do understand however
that if we do ally, I can not sign any official contract until your land is a nation of its own
instead of a few fields and forests in a state of rebellion.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Oh, you don't have to worry about that. I don't expect you to announce to anyone what we are doing.
In fact, you are advised to keep this quiet.
We Benefactors enjoy our secrecy.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Well then
Since you do not require us to help you and you are too far to help us
What will this alliance entail?

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
A portal between us; a stable one. You will help us with elite agents when we need them, unofficially. And we will provide you with our magical resources and elite agents of our own.
Consider it a convenient window of opportunity, both ways.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Hmm...

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
And of course, it is all in secret.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Keeping such a connection secret would be hard.
To the extreme.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
I do not think that there will be much suspicion if magi from Quel'Thalas travelled to Dalaran. It has been a way of things for hundreds of years.
And thus, likewise.
What changes is what will be done under cover of night once the journey is complete.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Hmm... I'm sure I can find a vault under the Violet Citadel where our end of the portal could be opened.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Excellent. And then let us consider a first act of allegiance between us.
We will... eliminate... the Kirin Mora problem. You will help us steal something from Caer Darrow.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Hmm...
Do you have some kind of a poison in mind to take care of the rodents here in Hesperia?
One that I have not come up with.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
We could help with some Assassins of my clan

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
The dwarf speaks wisely.
You fight a frontal war. Your hareveim witches fail because there are those trained to hunt them.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
I am not sure whether dwarves can effectively... blend in... here.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Assassins don't blend in with people, they blend in with the darkness.
The assassins do a quick job, you give us the location and the names, and we eleminate them. You only need to pay the clan to not draw attention to the kingom as whole.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
I am still sceptical about a dwarf's chance to hide and not attract attention in Hesperia.
...unless...

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
What inspires you?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
The Kirin Mora are highly secretive and defensive when it comes to people travelling there from this side of the land.
But they would not doubt a dwarf, would they?

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
A mining team perhaps?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Or a diplomatic envoy
Your assassins could say they are there to talk about a possibility of Ironforge helping the Kirin Mora assume power over Dalaran
And then killing the most important rebel leaders when a conference is held.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
They could

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
You have a meeting at Fenris Isle, do you not? If the Kirin Mora attend, they can be eliminated.
Either on their way there, on their way back.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I heard about the meeting. Who exactly will be attending?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
I am sure most human monarchs in Lordaeron
And I.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Is the the possibility that I could come with you? Of course only to make new trading agreements.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
I am sure you don't plan on trading with Lightists after what we have discussed.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Why not, when they get the short deals?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*laughs*
You sound so much like the dwarves my mother's storybooks had in them.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
I trained hard to do so, thank you.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
You are welcome.
I will take you to the island along with the King of Kul Tiras.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Good. Now I only have a last question before I leave you:
Could you arrange that I contact Ironforge magicaly?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Yes, of course you can.

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
Perfect.
*bows* Then I will leave you now.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Farewell.
*bows*

Skirvar Thaurissan - Regent of Ironforge says:
*leaves the two*

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Master Kariel, do you have anything you wish to speak of?

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
I think we have settled most accounts. I should inform my master of this exchange. Let us establish the portal, and I will return to you with my first contract.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Already?

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
It will be awhile before I return.
You can count on that.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Can we not instead send you to Quel'Thalas with a spell of teleportation and establish the stable portal later?
It will take preparations.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Certainly. I will leave my entourage here, however, under Magus Rimtori. She will help you to create the portal and cement our relationship. I trust you will treat her with grace and respect.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Of course. I would never disgrace a lady.
Much less one of high position deserving honour.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
I am pleased to hear that! Since she would most certainly disgrace you violently in return if you did so. Hah! I amuse myself.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*gives a dry fake laugh*

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Now I'll take my rest and be off in the morning. I need my sleep.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Farewell to you too.
We shall see tomorrow morning.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
And put me up somewhere with a view of the lake, yes?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
Ah, of course.
The northern wing.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Hah! The northern wing. Yes.
Let us share a drink, you and I. I love wine. Do you have wine?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
I am sorry, but I have business to attend to.
There is nothing I'd rather do than drink wine right now, but there is a... ceremony I need to hurry up to.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
A ceremony. Can I come and watch?

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
It is a Lightist sermon.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Ugh. Don't let Rimtori know, or you'll have a conflagration.
Really, when you pass away of old age I really will have to institute a worthy replacement.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
...
Farewell, Master Kariel.

Kariel Winthalus - Benefactor says:
Anu belore.

Javali - Grand Archmage of Dalaran says:
*stands up, gives short instructions to servants*
*leaves*
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  #260  
Old 06-20-2009, 11:39 AM
Timolas Timolas is offline


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OOC: Gods, how did I let the update be so late? Wulf listed who I still owed an update to and I felt bad and got straight here. I've been out every evening these past few days, I apologize.

Also, I took a break from the present tense; even though I find it a lot more interesting. Tell me if you prefer me writing in the present or past.

I have to go urgently. I missed dinner with my family because I was writing this. I'll finish for everyone else tomorrow, I promise.

Lordaeron

Marshal Sherman rallied his forces and marched from Stratholme the following morning. The town officials organized a recovery operation for the bodies of the fallen, which were to be burned ceremonially on a great pyre.

Sherman only regretted that he would not be there to witness the last rites being given to his dear brothers in arms. There was just no time to be lost. The longer that was left until his arrival at Corin's Crossing, the more time that the Maroon High Council had to escape.

Pureblood and his Witch Hunters led the way through Strattania, past the remnants of towns and villages which had been burned ransacked by the rampaging armies of Brux; the very army that had been destroyed at Stratholme.

"How in the hells did the cultists manage to ally with Gnolls?" Sherman muttered to himself. At his side, Pureblood shrugged.
"I've seen some nasty things in my time as a Witch Hunter, Marshal. This is was just another card in the deck that the pagans play."
"What have they played in the past that I haven't seen, then?" Sherman asked.
Pureblood managed an awkward grin. Sherman suddenly gave thought the scars lining the young man's face.
"Well, Marshal Sherman. Let's just say that their Four Gods are more than just concepts. When you're in the heat of it, and you see some truly crazy things, you no longer question that much."

Corin's Crossing loomed over the horizon by evening. It was a huge settlement wedged between a myriad of hills. Corin's Crossing looked like a ghost town. There were no lights, no fires, no sounds of occupation coming from within. Sherman felt unnerved by the sight of the place. He could handle any foe upon the field of battle without fear, but something like this, a promise of an unseen enemy, was more intimidating.
"What can we expect, Pureblood?"
The Witch Hunter shrugged.
"What can't we expect?"

The army moved into the town with utmost caution, every footstep crashing into the silence. Sherman began to suspect that he was far too late to catch the High Council, which would likely have heard of the defeat of its pawns, Wiglaf Folles and Sagan, by now. Suddenly, Sherman halted the battalions and stalled his horse.
"Pureblood!"
The Witch Hunter stood at attention.
"Aye, Marshal?"
"Spread out and look for traces of the High Council. If they are not here, perhaps we can catch up with them. Hopefully, they're not too far gone by now."

Sherman looked around him. He could not help but wonder what fate had befallen the innocent townsfolk of Corin's Crossing who had not yielded to the Maroon fanatacism.

A violent cry rang out; a shrieking wail. Two Witch Hunters beckoned Sherman inside what seemed to be the town hall. Pureblood was there with several of his lieutenants, with swords drawn, cornering a small gathering dressed in brown rags.
"Whom am I addressing! Speak!" Pureblood commanded.
"What have we here?" Sherman asked, relieved that the search had turned up something.

One of the elders stepped forward, hatred alight in his eyes.
"You are too late! The High Council left before your arrival. Brux has guided them to safety so that they may fight you another day."
Sherman lost control, for but a split second, and backhanded the man to the ground.
"Insolent heretic!"
"I know you." the man replied, as he wiped blood from his mouth. "You are the Butcher!"
"Butcher? Do you want to know what I really am, cultist?" Sherman spat, drawing his sword. "I do the work of a righteous man. Have you ever read the Book of Patron Godfrey? No? Let me bless you with Passage 25:17. The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I serve the Light when I lay my vengeance upon you."
The man stood defiant till the end, but the Marshal decapited him nonetheless. "Pureblood! Mount the Witch Hunters! Sniff out the Maroon High Council! Lead me to them! You are trained to smell their ilk out. They can't have gotten far."
Pureblood nodded.
"What shall we do with the cultists that they left behind?"
"Burn them." Sherman replied.

In mere minutes, Sherman, Pureblood and the Witch Hunters were mounting their horses. The trail was not yet cold. The training that the Witch Hunters received would lead them straight to the High Council.
"They are not far!" Pureblood calls out. "A mile or two at most!"
"Then ride, damn you!" Sherman roars, kicking his horse after the Witch Hunters. They thundered down onto the roads, leaving the army to continue on to Tyr's Hand. Sherman promised his lieutenants that he would meet them there.

Every minute that passed seemed to bring the Witch Hunters into a more furious frenzy. They were drawing closer and they knew it. Sherman felt the opportunity for vengeance bubbling closer. The riders broke into the open plains, and then they could see a cloud of dust being thrown into the air in the distance.
"They too are on horseback! After them! Ride like never before!" Pureblood yells.

"Shoot down their mounts beneath them!" Sherman commanded.
The Witch Hunters readied their bows, superior archers even on horseback. They drew nearer, and fired. Several figures tumbled to the ground in a heap. Sherman could see that some of the targets had been crushed or killed.
"Round them up!"

Then the Maroons turned, and Sherman saw that they were willing to fight to the last. There were men and women of various ages, dressed in different robes and vestments. The gap between them and the Witch Hunters closed, and then they were engaged. Using nets, the Witch Hunters managed to bring down many Maroons without seriously injuring them, but the rest were slaughtered easily. Whatever they had to their credit, the High Council was not composed of the best fighters in Strattania. That much was clear.

After the struggle was over, the surviving Maroons were rounded into a crowd and shackled. Sherman and Pureblood dismounted to address them.
Sherman felt a surge of relief. Now he would be able to exact vengeance.
"Something is not right." Pureblood muttered.
"What's wrong, Pureblood?" Sherman asked. "We have them at last, don't we?"

"All that matters, fools, is that Amron has escaped." one of the councilors laughed. She was a woman, fair haired and quite beautiful. Of all of the council, she had put up the most valiant resistance.
"Damnit." Pureblood grated, turning to Sherman. "Our intelligence gathered enough to know that 'Amron' was their highest ranking official. These might have been decoys."
Sherman folded his arms.
"No matter. We have the rest of the council. What good is one man without anyone to command? You, what is your name?"

"I am Yune the Bloodmaid, chosen of Brux." the woman responded proudly, pride in her demeanor. "And whatever you believe, we will live on. Andol besieges Tyr's Hand as we speak. Amron lives, and thus the Maroon High Council will endure. You have failed, Marshal."
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Last edited by Timolas; 06-20-2009 at 11:50 AM..
  #261  
Old 06-20-2009, 12:34 PM
Wabbajack Wabbajack is offline

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Darkmoon Card: Twisting Nether

[Edited Version; bit o' coloring and a few error-corrections. I hope I didn't color something wrong^^]
*Skirvar walks in and bows before Javali*
Skirvar Thaurissan: Greetings, oh great Javali. And greetings again, Kariel Winthalus, my dear friend!
*Javali does a curt bow of his own*
Javali: Good day to you, Master Dwarf.
Kariel Winthalus: What in the gods is the meaning of this? Why have you followed me, littlebeard?
Someone get this thing out, before my sensitivities are further offended.

I? Followed? But my friend, it wouldn't cross my mind to follow you.
*Javali rubs his beard*
*a servant leans down and whispers in his ear*
And yet here you are, the cause of the destruction of the street of my fair friend here; and uninvited.
I wanted to talk with you, oh mighty Javali, about.. political problems.
Pah, what does a monkey know about politics?
Let each other speak without these ill words.
Thank you.
You spoke your name to my doormen, but I would like for us to be introduced officially, Master Dwarf. Javali, the Grand Archmage of Dalaran, at your service.
I am Thane Skirvar Thaurissan, current regent of Ironforge, leader of the greater clan of the Darkiron and head sorcerer of Khaz'Modan.
*Javali shakes hands with Skirvar*
The street, that was a merly a accident, I hope it isn't to much damage.
...this is what you get when lesser races play with spells.
Ah, luckily there were no personal damages.
But please I would like an explanation on how this all took place.

Lesser race? I admit, we are a nearer to the ground as your people.
*Javali rolls his eyes* Master Kariel, do let Master Skirvar speak.
We needed a portal to the great city of Dalaran, and I think that I sadly was a bit out of shape, and overdid it.
Ah.
Where were you coming in from, exactly?

Allow me.
Yesterday, I found this dwarf and his friends ambling around Quel'Thalas, lost. I was gracious enough to take him in and discuss terms with him. He decided to accompany us to Dalaran, and took over creating the portal.
But it seems I might have been too kind.

*Javali mutters inaudibly*
Pardon me, what was that?
Hum, nothing.
What gave you such a drive to travel to my home city, Master Kariel and mighty Thane?

I believe I already hinted at my intentions. As for the dwarf, I can't imagine what he wants from you. I'll let him speak for himself.
I wanted to speak with you about the coming storm, and the position of our homes.
Coming storm? Would you be referring to the increasing religious intolerance of the nations of Lordaeron?
I talk about the war that is brewing.
And a war which will consume the entire continent! Our master has foreseen it!
You master is not the only one who thinks so, dear lord Winthalus.
Please, Master Elf, I deal with enough religious raving day to day without you coming in to add to it.
*Javali turns back to Skirvar*
Yes... The war we all know is coming but yet none wants.
From what I have understood, the Dwarven homeland is Lightist by law, even though there are sizable Muharist minorities.
Am I right?

You heard right.
Now, mighty Thane, are you here to ask my position in an upcoming war?
I want to ask if Dalaran is against or for tolerance. And choose your answer carefully.
*Javali laughs loudly and warmly*
If I could go into wedlock with a word, Master Skirvar, it would be "tolerance".
I have made it my business to ensure that each group within the populace is equal before the law.
Even though some have gravely misunderstood my intentions.

But for how long? Until the pagan have superior strength?
I warn you both, that I will not be kind to the Light when I have the upper hand.
They will feel what I have felt!
But I do this for the good of the world.

Let me assure you, I do not share mind with Master Kariel here.
If a group of Bruxists burn down a Lightist church and kill a priest, they will be hanged for the crime; if a group of lightists burn down a pagan temple and kill its mystic, they will be hanged as well.

The god of the Light does not deserve that much mercy.
Surely you know that Light has no gods, Kariel?
The Light has a god. He is called the Archbishop. A corrupt man who twists words and kills those who oppose him!
The Archbishop is a puppet of Lordaeron, and he must be put down, that is true.
The Archbishop lets men like General Sherman, the Butcher himself, loose to threaten his enemies.
For acts like that, I can not forgive him.
But that does not mean I want him dead and his religion wiped off the face of Azeroth.

I have a suggestion to stave off the anger of the Lightists.
Do the same as I will do when I return to Ironforge: Build a Cathedral for both the Light and the Pagan gods in the name peace between both. Divided churches only make the people divided.

Little man, how can you possibly hope to build a religious building for two faiths so opposed to one another?
I agree, you could never make that work.
Maybe I could test it in Ironforge. Would you reconsider if it would work there?
If you can find a way to make it work, I will no doubt try it. If you find a way to turn mud to gold, please share that recipe as well.
Very well then!
I have a question: Is it possible to... contact your gods, maybe through a medium, or a prophet?

A prophet, you say? Well...
There is the legend.
A legend.
Or is it more than a legend?

That a single individual lived once, who was a direct minion of the Viridian Father.
Some spoke that he was not even a mortal man, but something more.
He vanished a little before Thoradin united the tribes and created Lightism.

I see you have a taste for history and culture, Javali.
All self-respecting Magocrats have a taste for history and culture, but thank you still.
In any case, the Viridian Prophet was exchanged into the Prophet of Light.
And a new era was born.

Which is why I am here.
What would you say if such a legendary figure was poised to lead us again?

*Javali hesitates*
Consider it, for a moment.
I will have to think about this matter before I can react to it.
And I trust that you, master dwarf, have something important to say as well, or else you would not have interrupted me.
I have several matters.
I heard the terrible news about the treachery of the Archivists.
But I wanted to ask: What happened with the Archives?

I had them respectfully put away.
For prophecies are dangerous things.
If even one should be lost into the hands of the masses, they could cause panic and fear untold.
The archives are now in a safe place, and will be left there for some time
After we can be sure there aren't people wanting their hands on them for the wrong purposes, we will allow a study team to begin sorting through them.
Fear can be a powerfull weapon if used right. But I see that you made up your mind. Now to another matter:
I wanted to propose an alliance between Dalaran and Ironforge.

Ah, now this is unexpected.
What kind of alliance?

And now we come to the root of my coming.
Already I talked with the dwarf of the possibility of a union.

Mostly an alliance of trade and knowledge, but in the case we could help one another against enemies.
But tell me, dwarf. What does a Light respecting Ironforge want out of an alliance with paganism?
Or at least, with Dalaran.

*Javali scowls*
Dalaran is not a pagan state, Master Elf.
I know your Archareveim better than you do, I am sure. And her presence here is enough to tell me that whatever politics you play with, she is already in charge.
Bah, poppycock.
You may pretend otherwise, no doubt. But you are no longer in control of the what will transpire, Javali!
You will see.

Ironforge would be ally to you Javali, and it would help you in nearly all matters
I heard of your army, and they surely need weapons and armor, don't they?

Let me think...
I must admit our plain-filled country is not a chief producer of metals.
We have historically compensated with magic.
I am sure a trade pact would be good for all of us.
But why make it a full-blown alliance?

We dwarves don't have many troops, but we mined for ages and never had a war. We could trade miuch of the metal away, or even forge for you.
And what does Ironforge seek such a treaty for?
Why such a lust for war?
Even Khaz'Modan isn't invulnerable. Who knows what would happen if the wrong kingdom won the war?
Ah...
So you would infiltrate dwarven control into the north?
I don't understand, Winthalus.
We know of your fortress in the Hinterlands. Perhaps, dwarf, you would make deals with us only so that you can make us dependent on you.
But I am willing to gamble, as always.
So I will make my own proposal.

I don't gamble, I win.
Time will tell, I think.
That's a bold thing to say.
But now, I can still understand you wanting a trade pact
but why an alliance?
Will that not simply put you in danger of being in the receiving end of hostilities?

We already are- We have a growing number of pagans, and the lightist kingdoms like Strom won't tolerate them.
Stromgarde...
Ah, what a wonderful country for us to consider!
They are known for their aggressions south and west.
As well as their hate for paganism.

A kingdom between enemies...
Master Skirvar
I will sign a pact with you after some consideration... and consulting another party.
I would not have told this to you otherwise, but I am currently in the process of signing a treaty of Armed Alliance with Kul Tiras and its monarchy.
I think the High Admiral ought to know if his to-be ally is allying with someone else as well.

Excellent. Then half my work is already done.
Do as you must, Javali.
Consider me your friend in these matters. Quel'thalas is on the brink of a civil war, and the trollish armies of Zul'Aman are mobilizing.
About the Trolls
I have fears that some of them serve a hidden master.

Please elaborate.
Ah, so there are things you did not tell me about your time in that forest.
I knew there was more to it than you told me, littlebeard.
If you were hiding anything, consider your life at risk.

*Javali scowl*
Not while you are in my garden, Master Elf.
There are many times and places to take a life.
On my mission I was to be escorted to the great shrine of Ula'tek by the word of their leader.
But my escort brought me to the boarder of Quel instead and said that he has another master, someone their leader seems to not know about.

Well. What we do know is that Zul'Aman was aiming towards unification.
An united troll nation might be a threat to us all.
I don't think that such is a question.
But a statement of fact.
Our attempts to infiltrate the leadership eschelon... failed. Let us say that much.

Maybe they could be directed into another enemy, an enemy south to them, one that they hate nearly as much as you elves.
I do not pretend to hide my satisfaction that they might be a valuable tool to destroy Silvermoon.
Mnesthes has already tried to engineer them to that purpose.

And get control of the Well?
*Javali frowns*
Rather, they will attempt to.
And that is where we pick up the pieces.
Unfortunately, my master was unable to influence the High Warlord.
So we cannot count on the trolls limiting their invasion to the north.

But we are once again wandering to topics I would not have spoken in my home.
I have an idea
We should reschedule our allience plan, and maybe I could talk with Strom about an "alliance" against the trolls, if you know what I mean. Two enemies mauling one another

Hmm...
Such underhanded tactics are not something I will accept lightheartedly.
But I am inclined to try anything to spare my homeland from its enemies.

The trolls are far from us. They will not be a problem.
They will have to hack through many Lightist nations before they reach the south.

Stromgarde is near to us.
And thus you must focus on the problem that is Stromgarde.
Leave the trolls to the Benefactors.

Your words do make sense, Master Kariel.
Why attack Strom if the trolls could do that?
I am not going to attack anyone.
But I am worried of an attack from the Highlands.

I am proposing that we Benefactors stand with Dalaran and Kul Tiras.
With good reason.
And that is why you need us just as we need you.

Do the Benefactors have troops?
Resources?
Lands?

We own southern Quel'Thalas as it is. We are the favoured children of Mnesthes! And we are the last link you may have to the prophet of legend.
We will look to our own borders. Do not fear.

And will allying with you earn me the hostility of many a nation?
Few even know we exist.
Quel'Thalas...
By all accounts, Quel'Thalas is just that; Quel'Thalas under his Highness Anasterian, the fool.
But he does not control the southern lands.
What we want is to replace him.

I see.
But there are concerns.

And what are your concerns?
Dalaran has a honorary tie with the Sunstriders.
Our city was founded by a wizard who was apprenticed by King Anasterian during the Troll Wars.

And when was the last time that a Sunstrider inconvenienced himself to help Dalaran?
Never, but neither have they allied with the Kirin Mora.
Or any other rebel group.

Because they only keep to themself.
Quel'Thalas is isolationist, the dwarf is right.
You can expect that whatever happens to you, Silvermoon will not care.

I see.
No hand will stretch out to shelter you from the Light.
Please do understand however
that if we do ally, I can not sign any official contract until your land is a nation of its own
instead of a few fields and forests in a state of rebellion.

Oh, you don't have to worry about that. I don't expect you to announce to anyone what we are doing.
In fact, you are advised to keep this quiet.
We Benefactors enjoy our secrecy.

Well then
Since you do not require us to help you and you are too far to help us
What will this alliance entail?

A portal between us; a stable one. You will help us with elite agents when we need them, unofficially. And we will provide you with our magical resources and elite agents of our own.
Consider it a convenient window of opportunity, both ways.

Hmm...
And of course, it is all in secret.
Keeping such a connection secret would be hard.
To the extreme.

I do not think that there will be much suspicion if magi from Quel'Thalas travelled to Dalaran. It has been a way of things for hundreds of years.
And thus, likewise.
What changes is what will be done under cover of night once the journey is complete.

Hmm... I'm sure I can find a vault under the Violet Citadel where our end of the portal could be opened.
Excellent. And then let us consider a first act of allegiance between us.
We will... eliminate... the Kirin Mora problem. You will help us steal something from Caer Darrow.

Hmm...
Do you have some kind of a poison in mind to take care of the rodents here in Hesperia?
One that I have not come up with.
We could help with some Assassins of my clan.
The dwarf speaks wisely.
You fight a frontal war. Your hareveim witches fail because there are those trained to hunt them.
I am not sure whether dwarves can effectively... blend in... here.
Assassins don't blend in with people, they blend in with the darkness.
The assassins do a quick job, you give us the location and the names, and we eleminate them. You only need to pay the clan to not draw attention to the kingom as whole.

I am still sceptical about a dwarf's chance to hide and not attract attention in Hesperia.
...unless...

What inspires you?
The Kirin Mora are highly secretive and defensive when it comes to people travelling there from this side of the land.
But they would not doubt a dwarf, would they?

A mining team perhaps?
Or a diplomatic envoy
Your assassins could say they are there to talk about a possibility of Ironforge helping the Kirin Mora assume power over Dalaran
And then killing the most important rebel leaders when a conference is held.

They could.
You have a meeting at Fenris Isle, do you not? If the Kirin Mora attend, they can be eliminated.
Either on their way there, on their way back.

I heard about the meeting. Who exactly will be attending?
I am sure most human monarchs in Lordaeron.
And I.

Is the the possibility that I could come with you? Of course only to make new trading agreements.
I am sure you don't plan on trading with Lightists after what we have discussed.
Why not, when they get the short deals?
*Javali laughs*
You sound so much like the dwarves my mother's storybooks had in them.
I trained hard to do so, thank you.
You are welcome.
I will take you to the island along with the King of Kul Tiras.

Good. Now I only have a last question before I leave you:
Could you arrange that I contact Ironforge magicaly?

Yes, of course you can.
Perfect.
*Skirvar bows*
Then I will leave you now.
Farewell.
*Javali bows*
*Skirvar leaves the two*
Master Kariel, do you have anything you wish to speak of?
I think we have settled most accounts. I should inform my master of this exchange. Let us establish the portal, and I will return to you with my first contract.
Already?
It will be awhile before I return.
You can count on that.

Can we not instead send you to Quel'Thalas with a spell of teleportation and establish the stable portal later?
It will take preparations.

Certainly. I will leave my entourage here, however, under Magus Rimtori. She will help you to create the portal and cement our relationship. I trust you will treat her with grace and respect.
Of course. I would never disgrace a lady.
Much less one of high position deserving honour.

I am pleased to hear that! Since she would most certainly disgrace you violently in return if you did so. Hah! I amuse myself.
*Javali gives a dry fake laugh*
Now I'll take my rest and be off in the morning. I need my sleep.
Farewell to you too.
We shall see tomorrow morning.

And put me up somewhere with a view of the lake, yes?
Ah, of course.
The northern wing.

Hah! The northern wing. Yes.
Let us share a drink, you and I. I love wine. Do you have wine?

I am sorry, but I have business to attend to.
There is nothing I'd rather do than drink wine right now, but there is a... ceremony I need to hurry up to.

A ceremony. Can I come and watch?
It is a Lightist sermon.
Ugh. Don't let Rimtori know, or you'll have a conflagration.
Really, when you pass away of old age I really will have to institute a worthy replacement.
:
...
Farewell, Master Kariel.
Anu belore.
*Javali stands up, gives short instructions to servants and leaves afterwards*

Last edited by Wabbajack; 06-20-2009 at 12:49 PM..
  #262  
Old 06-20-2009, 12:37 PM
Kerrah Kerrah is offline

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  #263  
Old 06-21-2009, 12:19 PM
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OOC: Wabbajack's post was the dialogue between Skirvar, Javali and Kariel conducted through MSN. I'll summarise it for you.
Ironforge, Benefactors and Dalaran enter into deals.
Which means that pagan factions are growing pretty powerful, so hardcore Lightists, watch out.

Ravenholdt

Warester Van Dam prepared to make the boarding as the corsair ship lugged ever nearer. This would not be a walk in the park.
"Oi, any trouble on deck?" a voice rang out.
Warester mustered his best northern Hesperian accent and replied.
"Nay, comrades. Just a lil' trouble with a deckhand; thought 'e could outdrink the cap'n."
The reply was less than amused.
"Well, we pulling alongside ta' check. Didn' sound like a party ta me."

Well, it was not like Warester was expecting anything else. At least he lowered their guard. The Grand Master braced himself, lowering himself onto the tips of his feet and crouching low behind the rail. The enemy ship came alongside, and through the gloom, Van Dam could see the milling figures of the river pirates.
"Well, bless me mother with the 'Olly Light." one of the corsairs muttered. "They're all dead."

Van Dam figured that now was a better time than any to make a grand entrance. He opened with a jump forwards and a savage kick, grounding the nearest river pirate. With the Fang in hand, the Grand Master looked over his foes to see where to strike next. They were an assortment of lowlives, with a couple of gnolls in attendance.

One figure amidst the crowd stood out far more than any others. Even at a first glance, it was clear to see that the captain of this ship was no ordinary man. Van Dam stood facing a fair skinned, thin figure, draped in a glorious purple coat. The pirate captain entertained a nasty grin, crowned by golden hair swept back into jagged strands, and unlike his comrades, he paraded elegance and grace.

"I hate thieves." the captain sighed, before addressing his men. "What are you waiting for? Kill him, before I get angry."

Van Dam did not wait for the pirates to make the next move. He followed his kick up with a whirl of blades, striking through gnoll and man alike. Their cutlasses could not touch him; one moment he was there, the next he was behind his enemy, knife flashing. The pirate captain watched bemusedly, heavy black boots planted firmly on the deck.
"Damnit. Why do I even hire you goons? Get the hell away. I said; GET THE HELL AWAY FROM THE ASSASSIN. NOW."

That put a stop to the fighting. Van Dam prepared to deal a direct strike to the captain, not doubting that this was just an attempt by the filthy pirate to buy himself time to escape.
"Who are you, villain?" Van Dam asked, extending the Fang at his foe.

The captain bowed extravagantly, unleashing a wolfish smile upon the Grand Master.
"You no doubt know my name already, darling. I am Faldren Darafel! Chief corsair lord of the rivers and lakes of Lordaeron and Alterac! I am the menace of the running waters, and the, uh, scourge of river vessels. Stuff like that. Nevermind. What matters is that you're trying to kill me, yes?"
"That happens to be the case, yes." Van Dam conceded.

Still, the captain had been right about one other thing as well. Van Dam knew the name of Faldren Darafel. Faldren; notorious for his escapades of pillaging and looting through every body of water within the continent. He had been known to brave the coasts and seas as well when the rivers began to bore him. One thing that was noteworthy about this Faldren Darafel was that he was, in fact, the admiral of Alterac. Lord Xie of Alterac had employed this man to steal and murder, and to poison the wells of Tarren Mill as well it seemed.

"Well, at least tell me why you are trying to kill me." Darafel said with a smile. "Listen up, comrade. I'm not a criminal. You and I; we're both working for someone, yes? We need to earn a living. Else, you'd not be here in the first place. But how much are you being paid to take me out? Can't we establish a partnership? Tell me who sent you? And we kill him together?"

---

Amani

That night, Jin'thek and Gruc'jen ascended the stairs of the Shrine of Ula-Tek. Theirs would be a difficult task indeed. They would have to find the ancient, hidden shrines of the Loa deep in the bowels of the catacombs, and use them to commune with the gods.

"I don' like this, mon." Gruc'jen whispered. Jin'thek led the way, bearing a great torch to light the path.
"Don't be afraid, Gruc'jen." Jin'thek replied. "We are blessed. We will be safe in here."
The old Witch Doctor wasn't placated, however. He shook his weary head.
"No, Jin'thek mon. Few who enter Ula-Tek ever leave. Tis' the ancestral holdings of we Amani, but you know that since we lost the wars, the Loa been angry with us. They won't like us trespassing. We keepin our ancient treasures in 'ere, and they are protected from looters."
Jin'thek stopped for a moment and put a hand on the Witch Doctor's shoulder. Then he drew Zin'rokh, the sword of trollish legends.
"Look at this, Gruc'jen. What do you see?"
"I see Zin'rokh, mon."
"Then we are truly blessed." Jin'thek said. "We go now."

They descended into the bleak cold of the Shrine of Ula-Tek, leaving the sounds of village life behind them. The Summertide festival was coming to an end, and now the Amani were making preparations instead. Jin'thek would have a lot to do in the coming days.

They travelled deep and far, and began to lose track of the passage of time. The corridors they traversed started to seem the same, with no promise of taking them to their destination.
"You know, mon, we don' know who built this temple." Gruc'jen murmured. "There only be stories. That this place been here before da' breaking of the world. When the land was one. This place; one o' the places we can hear the gods speak. But we gotta watch out real careful, else we hear the wrong gods talk to us. Not all gods are good, mon. Some whisper madness into yo' mind while ye sleep."
Jin'thek only grunted.

Just as it seemed that they were truly lost, the two of them stepped into a huge room, branching off into the darkness. Just ahead of them were a series of altars, with massive statues and intricate carvings spiralling across the stonework.
"Is this it, Gruc'jen?"
"Aye, mon. I dun been here for many years, but the memory still be fresh in my mind."

Jin'thek walked up to the altars, and looked over each one individually. There were carvings and rows of statues with the likenesses of all sorts of beastly creatures. Gruc'jen ran a hand along one of the figures.
"Visages o' the gods, mon. Ula-tek, Nalorakk, Akil'zon, Jan'alai, Shadra, Halazzi, Hakkar, Ueetay no Mueh'zala, Eraka no Kimbul... and more. All of them, mon. They're all here. Not all of these are our gods, mon. Know that much. This place is a place to commune with da spirit world, but it be a dangerous realm."

Gruc'jen turned to Jin'thek.
"You will face great danger if you try to commune with them, mon. You might not even end up talking to the right god. You don' have to do this, Jin'thek. Many have been lost to this place."
"I am no mere troll."

Then Jin'thek sat down before the statue of the great spider, Shadra, and prepared to commune with her. The truth behind Jintha'alor would have to be discovered. Gruc'jen eased Jin'thek into a trance, and activated the runes on the shrines.

Jin'thek passed out. His mind wandered into the borders of space and time; the spirit realm opened up before him. He saw the past, present and future sprawl before him in a weave, but he could not read the patterns. Instead, he opened up his mind and called out to Shadra to speak with him. He was met with silence.

No matter how long he tried, only silence responded.

At least, another voice finally rang into his soul.

It was promising to help him contact Shadra, if only he would open himself up to this voice.
"I can help you. I know whom you seek. The lady slumbers. I will help you awake her."

"Who are you?" Jin'thek asked, his soul adrift.

"I am of the gods. I am and always have been. You trolls know me only as Ueetay no Mueh'zala. A god of death, but also of life. Just as surely as you live, thus are you also my son. What do you seek from Shadra that you could not seek from me?"

---

Lordaeron
(second half)

Meanwhile, around the outskirts of Andorhal, the main vanguard of the Lordaeron army drawing close to the city. Witch Hunter Commander Adaen Melrache commanded the legion in its entirety. Melrache was one of the favoured amidst Archbishop Marden's retinue, and there had been good reason to send him to lead here. Standing at the front of his steel-clad wall of swords and shields, Adaen Melrache could not help but smirk. Despite the losses that the vanguard had suffered fighting the People's Front in the midland, he hoped to finish off the rebels once and for all now that they were convening in this place.

Andorhal would be the site of the definitive battle for the midland. Adaen Melrache was only too glad to be the one to lead the sons and daughters of Lordaeron in this struggle. Trained in the dungeons of the Archbishop to rise to become the most talented Witch Hunter Lordaeron had ever seen, it was no surprise that Melrache was a feared man.

As the army got closer, it was increasingly clear that there was trouble brewing in Andorhal. Plumes of smoke rose from the city. Cries and shouts of battle emnated from within.

"Captain. Report." Melrache bellowed when the captain of the vanguard rode back to the army, after having checked out the city of Andorhal.
"Commander Melrache." the captain said. "The gates are barred."
Melrache stroked his chin.
"Then the People's Front are already at work. Take two chapters of Witch Hunters and open the gates for us. I'm going to flank the city and make sure not a single rebel gets out of there alive."

The soldiers were rushed to various stations along the roads, while Commander Adaen himself gathered together several battalions to storm into the city. He waited for half an hour, and then quite suddenly, the city gates swung open. The Witch Hunter chapters were waiting on the other side.
"Strike down anyone who does not pledge allegiance to the Light or the crown!" Adaen commanded, and led the charge of soldiers streaming into the city.

They quickly met savage resistance from rangers and axemen dressed for life in the wilds. These were the rebels who had hounded the vanguard from the cover of the forests, and struck at them when they were least prepared. The men who they were fighting now were the brutes of the People's Front; many of which had helped Canbrad infiltrate Lordaeron City on the eve of the public execution of Maximus Krowl.

Adaen Melrache had one target in particular. As a Witch Hunter, he would hunt down Canbrad's advisor; the Maroon hedgewizard, Oran. The man who had helped mastermind the attack in Lordaeron City, and the man who had fought Thomassy and helped Canbrad escape after the assault. Oran; a man who had served in Dalaran. Adaen had done his research. This Oran had turned to harsher magics, and had somehow ended up in the employ of the People's Front. He was no doubt the link between the Maroon Cult in Strattania and the People's Front. If Oran could be slain, the link would be broken.

"Push them into the city squares! Slaughter them in the dozen!" Adaen Melrache yelled, pushing through crowds of fleeing people to strike at those who raised weapons against him. The city guard still endured in some places, heavily besieged. Fortunately, the arrival of the Lordaeron soldiers had helped relieve them of their burdens.

Melrache soon found himself cut off from the rest of his party. He was accompanied only by a few of his personal guard and several Witch Hunters.
"We need to regroup. Captain, do you have any idea which part of the city we are in?" Adaen asked.
"Western part, sir, judging from the town hall to the east."
"Well, push towards the city gates. That'll bring us closer to the army and we can use the walls to locate the rest of the men."

Adaen Melrache and his retinue continued their struggle, encountering spots of resistance on the way. The frenzy was quickly getting out of hand. It was difficult to distinguish friend from foe. Eventually, they managed to climb onto the ramparts, and look across at the city.
"By the Light." Adaen murmured.
From their viewpoint, they could see the bands of Lordaeron soldiers struggling aimlessly through the city. They were being picked off by a myriad of archers sheltering and firing from inside and on top of buildings. At every turn the soldiers of Lordaeron were being hounded and struck at, without a single target to focus on.
"It's a slaughter."

Suddenly Adaen could see that the flag flying above the town hall was being lowered, and soon, a new banner was being hoisted. The crest of Hearthglen combined with the symbols of the rebellion; silver sickle and sword of the People's Front.
"Canbrad must be in the town hall." Adaen murmured.
"My lord!" the captain yelled. "Look! The warehouses!"

Teams of soldiers, no doubt serving the Front, were clambering up the hillsides in the north of the town towards the grain warehouses of Andorhal. The city was the food centre of the kingdom; if anything befell the supplies, many towns and villages would starve. Adaen and his soldiers charged down the walls, hoping to take the shortcuts in the streets to reach the warehouses in time.

A cold voice rang out behind Adaen just as they turned one of the corners. Standing proudly as ever was none other than Oran, the weathered Bruxist hedgewizard. He seemed more worn by time since their last encounter.
"Commander! Thank you for coming."
"I was hoping to find you." Adaen said through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on his Witchblade.
"Put that away, before it is too late. Let us negotiate, Commander." Oran said.
"We do not treaty with rebels!" Adaen spat.
"Oh? You do not? Would it surprise you to learn that Maximus Krowl, our dear master, betrayed us?"

The notion seemed ridiculous.
"I am not surprised! You are worthless scum, one and all." Adaen growled.
Oran sighed.
"It became evident when some of Krowl's lieutenants tried to sabotage our plans. Canbrad caught them himself. We tortured them. They confessed everything. Recall, not too long ago, how we tried to free Krowl from execution. We failed. Ah, or so it seemed. We know that Krowl is alive. The game is up, Commander."

However, Adaen Melrache was out of his league. Whatever Oran was speaking of, he had not a clue. He had seen Krowl die with his own two eyes; this rebel must be mad or truly misinformed.
"You play mind tricks with me, rebel." Adaen grunted.
"Oh, so you are just a pawn then, Commander? Forgive me for wasting both our time. Regardless, you have a choice. Break off the siege and leave Andorhal to us, or we will burn the warehouses to the ground. Already your forces inside the city are being slaughtered. You have no chance of victory, unless you take us all down with you."
"You call yourselves the 'People's Front'? You would condemn the people to starvation. I'm calling your bluff, Oran."
"Are you so certain?"
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Last edited by Timolas; 06-21-2009 at 01:22 PM..
  #264  
Old 06-21-2009, 07:00 PM
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Stromgarde

Many days had passed since Eralas, king of Stromgarde, had left the sanctity of his fair and beloved city to participate in a hastily proclaimed summit of sovereigns and now, having reached a small and sheltered township near the southern base of the Lordamere Lake, he was nearing the end of his of now long journey.

He paused for a while, deciding to enjoy the scene which was unfolding before him, townsfolk going about their daily routines, worrying not about the world at large or the times of uncertainly which were now engulfing it. He found himself moved by the innocence of this small but significant settlement, thanking the light for having granted him this moment of joy and comfort.

And yet this movement of peace, which he had long sought and wished for, was suddenly and unexpectedly disturbed by the appearance of an elderly man clad in the scarlet colors of the ancient Crimson Cabal, having made his entrance in a flash of blinding light which had caused much grief and unrest amongst the steeds of his escort.

Though the appearance of a magi of the Crimson Cabal as in itself unexpected, to be greeted by no other then magus Aszhard himself was indeed most astonishing.

“Master Aszhard, first of the cabal”

King Eralas said in a surprised thone

“I must say that of all the people on this world you were the one I least expected to approach me in a land this far from Stromgarde, may I ask what the occasion is for this most unexpected visit?”


The old magi bowed deeply before addressing the lord of Stromgarde

“My lord, I bring word from your noble brother, word so important that it must be delayed no further”


Aszhard then handed his king a document, marked with the royal seal, and bowed deeply a second time and waited as the king read its content
Moments passed as Eralas read the words of the document and when finished he read it a second time, seeking to fully understand the meaning of the message within.

This was unexpected, he thought for himself, and yet he knew that is was such endeavours which had always defined the nature of his most beloved brother, many a time had he granted him trust and never before had he let him down and that, he hoped, was not about to change. But if this was to succeed, other measures would have to be taken and he knew what had to be done.

He quickly wrote down a number of sentences on a document of his own and handed it to the anxious Aszhard, who seemed surprised by these actions of his master the king.

“Bring this letter to the sovereign of Alterac”


Eralas suddenly declared

“You shall act as my diplomat as talks with this nation are initiated, once your task is complete, I would like you to join me at the fenrus summit, if the words of my brother are true, than your presence will be essential”


Aszhard bowed a third time and vanished once more in a flash of light, Eralas and his escort then resumed their march to Fenris
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  #265  
Old 06-22-2009, 12:24 AM
Gurtogg_Bloodboil Gurtogg_Bloodboil is offline

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Ravenholdt

Van Dam had been placed in a rather unique situation by the river rat, corsair Captain Faldren Darafel. The “good” Captain seemed to be under the impression that Warester had been hired to assassinate him. Of course, the truth was that the Grand Master was actually on his way to Fenris Isle to possibly assassinate someone else, and his decision to attack the pirate vessel was strictly pro bono. Pirates were a cocky lot though, and he didn’t doubt that the Captain was sincere in his belief that he had been specially targeted.

The captain was right about one thing however… he wasn’t a criminal. Darafel had been legitimized by Lord Xie, and was actually the bonafide Admiral of Alterac. As oxymoronic as a legal pirate seemed, it was true. From what Van Dam had overheard from the pirates that originally tried to shanghai him, the man that Darafel was working for right now, besides Xie, was General Gabranth. That cur was building a workforce out of kidnapped victims and poisoning Tarren Mill‘s wells.

Van Dam knew all about Gabranth. Ravenholdt’s location, technically within Alterac’s boundaries, had traditionally made the two entities enemies. It was even said that you could increase your reputation with Ravenholdt by slaying Alterac citizens, though that rumor held no real truth. Whether merely following orders or not, Van Dam didn’t like this captain’s business.

So what was Warester to make of this man’s offer? A partnership was out of the question. You simply can’t trust a pirate, they’re scurvy dogs. Plus, there was the fact that Van Dam just sliced and diced half his crew. However, the Captain did seem genuinely lustful for revenge on his would-be assassin’s imaginary employer… and pirates are always lustful for booty.

Warester Van Dam: Well then, Captain…

Faldren Darafel: Tut, tut, tut… “Admiral.”

Warester Van Dam: My apologies, “Admiral.” I see you’re a businessman, like myself. Since I’ve been paid up front, I see no reason why we can’t collaborate ourselves on the turnabout. The man who hired me to kill you was none other than the Pagan Fist of the Sea and bane to pirates everywhere, King Admiral Thaumas Proudmoore of Kul’Tiras.

The pirate crew gasped, the exact reaction Van Dam wanted. Knowing about Darafel’s watery travels across the length and breath of the continent, he suspected they’d have had a few run-ins with the naval powerhouse that was Kul’Tiras before.

Faldren Darafel: Should I be flattered?

Warester Van Dam: You should be enthusiastic, because I happen to know exactly where the King Admiral is going to be. He’ll be extremely vulnerable at a shortly upcoming diplomatic meeting, where as a show of good-faith he’ll only have a few guards. His royal ship will be docked and manned by only a skeleton crew, ripe for the plunderin’ and a fair cut of the booty for myself. And oh boy, the pirate who took out a Proudmoore? You’d be a legend in your own time. Xie would probably make you his new Queen, if he wasn’t already married of course.

Faldren Darafel: Aren't we lively, eh? And why would you be so eager to turn on your employer?

Warester Van Dam: Because you were the last of my contracts with him, and I suspect he’s going to try and take me out due to the fact that my knowledge of his high profile assassination targets, like yourself, makes me too much of a liability. Plus, I don‘t like his war posturing. And his dad is all barnacley and smells like low-tide. And, most of all, because I could put a throwing knife in your neck with ease from this distance, and you better believe it… but I haven’t because I’m sincerely interested by your offer to work together. So, what do you say?

Faldren Darafel: Intriguing…

If the Captain took him up on his offer, it would have worked entirely in Van Dam‘s favor. His transportation problem, due to giving his horse to the enslaved wenches to hasten their escape, would be solved. He would sail in on the “Admiral’s” ship, which was small enough to navigate the minor waterways and reach Fenris Isle or at the very least get him a lot closer to it. From there, Warester would ditch them and the corsairs would provide an excellent distraction based upon all the blatant lies he just sold them. He’d set them off, looking for a ship that may or may not even be there and watch them get into trouble, as pirates are known to do. Best case scenario, they’d actually manage to kill Thaumas. Lord Xie was no friend to Kul’Tiras anyway, he‘d probably endorse the plan! More likely, they’d all get killed or driven off and Van Dam could begin his infiltration.

If the pirate refused, he’s vanish from the ship and make his way to Fenris on his own. No big loss. So what would it be?

__________________________________________________ __________________

Meanwhile, back at Ravenholdt…

Hesperia’s Eastern Legion, under the command of General Fabian Leo continued their operations in Tarren Mill. The fallout from the poisoned wells debacle still resonated. Hareveim sought out the truth, and the powers granted to them by their goddess made them living lie-detectors. They had already uncovered much. The truth was, of course, that agents of Lord Travot Revenholdt poisoned the wells at the behest of Alterac sponsors. Individuals in Tarren Mill, traitors and spies of Alterac, know about Ravenholdt’s involvement and could be compelled to reveal the information. If so, the Eastern Legion could launch an attack on the heavily fortified Mountain homeland of Ravenholdt. Hellen Von Xie has been tasked with preventing that from happening.

Warester could not have chosen a worse time to leave. In addition to the immediate threat, the mysterious emissary who put the contract on Thaumas Proudmoore’s life had managed to shake his tail. Apparently, he utilized some kind of magic dust to mask his movements, and the Ravenholdt spy tracking him was not prepared for such an occurrence. Now, they had no idea where the emissary came from or who he was working for. Though every major power had mages at their disposal, this hitherto unheard of magic lead Hellen to believe that Dalaran itself could be involved.

Furthermore, the Wildpaw gnoll tribe had seemingly uprooted itself from its former territory and taken up residence in closer proximity to Ravenholdt. They’d made no aggressive movements… yet, but they were enough to cause some alarm. Of course what Hellen didn’t know was that Travot Ravenholdt had used his tamed Gnolls to infiltrate the tribe and deceive them into doing his bidding to as yet unknown ends.

On top of that, their top agent in Quel’thalas was pulling out. Myrokos Silentform was a High Elf, trained and raised by Grand Master Krol. His parents were notorious highwaymen, who terrorized the trade routes between Quel’thalas and the human kingdoms. The local governments had no success in stopping them, so they turned to Ravenholdt. Ravenholdt sent an agent, Krol, who was not yet the Grand Master, to dispatch with the Highwaymen. He did so, but was shocked to discover they were the parents of a very young child. Krol took him back to Ravenholdt, and raised him as a son. He'd been operating covertly in Quel'thalas for several years now, mostly spying on the Benefactors, whom he distrusted. Hellen received the encrypted correspondence from him only moments ago.

The situation in Quel’thalas is getting way too hot.

The Benefactors are conspiring with foreign entities. The region is about to implode and my cover will be blown. I’m endeavoring to make a return to Ravenholdt ASAP. I’ll bring you back some souvenirs.

Having a really crappy time. Wish you were here.

Love,
Myrokos


More pagan power consolidation spelled problems for the league of assassins. All this would have to wait though, as silencing Alterac’s agents in Tarren Mill was of top priority. Hellen had her list of targets, and had assembled the elite Nightslayers to aid her.

Nightslayer #3 ::mumbling to #6:: If you ask me, I should probably lead this mission. Warester putting his whore in charge doesn’t exactly fill me with confi… GKKK!!!!

The assassin was on the receiving end of a swift knife-edged palm strike to the throat, courtesy of Hellen.

Hellen von Xie: Does anyone else wish to question my leadership? …Anyone? Good. Then lets go!

Hellen pulled her mask over her face and began the descent down the mountain towards the nearby Tarren Mill. Her cadre of assassins followed her closely, and became all but invisible as they neared the town. They had all the magical countermeasures they would need to handle conflict with the Eastern Legion, but hoped it would not come to that. They wanted to kill their targets and get out without being seen or heard. Hellen just hoped they weren’t too late, and could prevent Leo and his Hareveim from uncovering the truth.

__________________________________________________ __________________

Travot could not keep his infatuation at bay. He had to see Lolita Scipio again. He found himself in Andriano, where he received fair treatment. He was a wealthy nobleman, after all. Why should he not have been able to court this fair lady, daughter of the Count? He’d elected to abandon his previous direct kidnapping plan if at all possible. Though admittedly, it was going to be difficult for him to convince her to spirit away with him to his mountain top and become his bride voluntarily, the Lord of Ravenholdt could be devilishly charming when he wanted to be.

As he saw the object of his desires, he was interested to see another woman ride into town on horseback. She was beautiful too, but looked like she’d just been through Hell. They were apparently friends, because Lolita was very concerned at the haggard sight of her and ran towards her screaming.

Lolita Scipio: Becca! Becca, you’ve returned! We thought we may never see you again! What happened?

Becca: ::sobbing:: Oh Lolita! It was horrible! I was kidnapped by disgusting pirates! They made me their slave! They… ::breaks down into tears::

Lolita Scipio: Oh no! How did you escape?

Becca: The… the Grand Master of Ravenholdt came out of nowhere. He killed all the pirates like the dogs they were! He was like lightening… he gave me and the other girls he freed his horse and everything!

Lolita Scipio: What a hero! He returned you to us!

Travot smiled to himself. Ahhh, here was something he could use! Van Dam’s idiotic heroics were finally going to benefit him! Soon, it would be time to play his hand.
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Last edited by Gurtogg_Bloodboil; 06-22-2009 at 04:07 PM..
  #266  
Old 06-22-2009, 05:10 AM
Timolas Timolas is offline


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Stromgarde (extension of my last update, since I hadn't gotten back to Spooky yet)

Wedged amidst the snowy peaks of Alterac, a granite city loomed above Hesperia, its shadow falling across the lands around it. Alterac City; heart of the Xie dynasty and home to a nation that had suffered greatly. Indeed, the realm had only gained notoriety over the years that the Xies had reigned. In the past two decades, however, this latest ruling monarch had taken Alterac's depravity to a whole new level.

The current Lord Xie was famously mad. It was neither a subtle madness, nor a predictable one. It is an illness that has plagued the bloodline for generations, growing worse with each successive child. To this end, the Xies always had a council of advisors and chancellors to help in governing Alterac. However, Lord Xie recently executed his entire council after they refused some of his wishes.

Magus Azshard of the Crimson Cabal arrived before the gates of the Alterac royal keep within the city, oblivious to the biting cold. He turned with heavy brows to the platoons of guards arrayed to watch the entrance.
"I must speak with your master."

Azshard was led deep inside the ominous keep, up high to the throneroom of Lord Xie. It was swiftly clear that Lord Xie was absent, as his throne was empty. However, standing next to the throne was another man who seemed to be in charge. A man bearing a regal orange robe, decorated lavishly with black patterns and symbols. Hiding this man's face was a great iron headset, thin horns branching out in the fashion of a crown.

"Whom do I have the honour of addressing?" the man asked Azshard.
Azshard inclined his head respectfully.
"I am Magus Azshard, lord of Stromgarde's Crimson Cabal. I come with a message from King Eralas Trollbane."
This seemed to perk the man's attention up. He immediately called for some servants to accomodate Azshard.
"I am General Gabranth, right hand of Lord Xie. I reign here until my master returns to the city. Please, have a drink."

Azshard quickly got to the point.
"King Eralas Trollbane knows that times are changing. I have been sent here to make you an offer. It is an offer that will not be repeated. This is the one chance for you to work with Stromgarde. We are not forgiving to you colonists, but this once, we may work with you."

General Gabranth nodded.
"What is it you offer?"

Azshard smiled.
"An alliance."
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Last edited by Timolas; 06-22-2009 at 05:13 AM..
  #267  
Old 06-25-2009, 08:27 AM
Zula Zula is offline

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Jin'thek passed out. His mind wandered into the borders of space and time; the spirit realm opened up before him. He saw the past, present and future sprawl before him in a weave, but he could not read the patterns. Instead, he opened up his mind and called out to Shadra to speak with him. He was met with silence.

No matter how long he tried, only silence responded.

At least, another voice finally rang into his soul.

It was promising to help him contact Shadra, if only he would open himself up to this voice.
"I can help you. I know whom you seek. The lady slumbers. I will help you awake her."

"Who are you?" Jin'thek asked, his soul adrift.

"I am of the gods. I am and always have been. You trolls know me only as Ueetay no Mueh'zala. A god of death, but also of life. Just as surely as you live, thus are you also my son. What do you seek from Shadra that you could not seek from me?"
Jin’thek belived in lots of things: He believed in the loas. He believed in will and good of troll-kind. He believed in the barbarity and corruption of humanity and the greed for arcane of elven kind. But if there was one thing in the wolrd he did not believe, it was in coincidences. A thing lately had been hapenning around, more than he would like them be.
It was the first time he heard of a loa called Uertay no Mueh’zala, but it was not the first time he heard about a god of life and death, in fact an agent of a god of that kind had aproched that same day. And well........Jin’thek didn’t believed in coincidences. Slowly some pieces were beggining to fit, the prophet, the human civil war, the dwarves, the vilebranch somehow all those events and people were related. But in his mind he could not yet see the whole............ picture

But he was certain of one thing, for some reason he and troll kind had some importance in this big game unknown to him. Because if his hunch was right, the voice that aproached him was most likely to be one of the false loas, one of the Prophet’s gods. If so for the god himself to aproach him it meant the false loas saw him as a important piece in their game, but he wasn’t planning on playing it.

So depiste the divinity wasn’t his enemy yet, he had to act carefully, after all he was in the realm of gods. Only one thing could save from that predicament and that was modesty. Jin’thek concentrade and spoke to the god:

‘I feel honored to be offered your help old one however I came here to see the misstress and even if she is sleeping if I am not able to wake her up by myself I would not consider myself to lead my people’

[Mueh’zala’s response]
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Originally Posted by Timolas roleplaying with Xie
"Take me, Xie! I know you dream of me as I dream of you; you haunt me Xie! Take me! Take me like an aminal Xie!"
Xie wants YOU to check Wulfang brainchild RIGHT NOW. SO click on this text
  #268  
Old 06-25-2009, 01:49 PM
Kerrah Kerrah is offline

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Marius takes all the information into account.
"I see. Well then, it is a gamble. We can push and drain our numbers, and hopefully take them out in one fell swoop. Or we can wait."
"Wait, my lord?" the magus asks.
"Yes, emissary. For you see, it will not be long before Count Dorian of Nevezia arrives with his army. We may be fractured now, but if we wait, we can avoid casualties and then take Ambermill. On the other hand-" Marius considers. "We will lose time, and that will allow the Kirin Mora to regroup, or retreat. We can sacrifice our vanguard, or perhaps retreat-"
"Augusta, my lord." the emissary presses.
"What of her?" Marius responds.
"I believe she is indeed going to attack the source. Shall I stop her? What orders shall I relay to the troops?"
General Marius kicks the body of the witch hunter captain a couple of more times before calling a nearby lieutenant by name and shouting: "Pull back two hundred paces and regroup. Support our backing men by having the crossbows and wizards shoot behind their backs, as accurately as possible. Not volleys, but steady fire. Create a stable line and defend it. This illusionary trickery will not be the end of us if we can just keep ourselves in order!"

As the officer proceeds to spread the order, the general turns back to the magi next to him. "You! Get the archmage back here before she goes and gets herself killed. We need all the wizards we can get to counter whatever Dosantos throws at us next. We aren't in a hurry, we can wait."

As they turn to hurry to their mistress, he takes off the witch hunter's helmet. The face doesn't remind him of anyone he's ever seen. He stomps the head in and saddles his horse. It's best to be there to rally the troops himself.

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

Sorry for taking so long.
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True glory consists in doing what deserves to be written; in writing what deserves to be read; and in so living as to make the world happier for our living in it.

Co-creator of UFS, a joint urban fantasy setting.

Last edited by Kerrah; 06-25-2009 at 01:54 PM..
  #269  
Old 06-27-2009, 03:57 PM
Mark_Romaneck Mark_Romaneck is offline

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Perinany

A man sat on his horse as he was lost in his thought, one had to wonder if this was because he himself had the extraordinary ability to dive unto himself in deep thought, or because of the peace of the forest he found himself upon, not something a person of his influence and skill should do, not here where the enemies lurked in whatever shadow was available and indeed the forest had the setting to produce shadows and this man had enemies.
42 springs had passed trough his eyes, and he was seasoned in war for he had the knowledge in theory and the experience in battle.

A shape in black approached him from the back as he is lost in thought, a perfect time for a stab in the back but instead the figure simply jumps and shouts “WERE UNDER ATTACK !O BY THE GODS!”

The man who was previously lost in thought jumps as he looks at the man and screams “Sourlan you idiot you almost made my hearth stop with that, you filthy sneaky bastard, is it so hard for a Captain general to find rest in this days”

The hooded man bows as he says “I am sorry for such an interruption Mattheus, but trough the surface might look lean and mighty the cracks on the handle of our shield will eventually break this defense” One could think several things of Sourlan, he was young but how one could not guess it could be early twenties or thirties that goddamned beard of his and that cowl he loved to wear did not allowed one to discern an identity with certaintity and surely this was no coincidence, it was all part of his plan
Mattheus Perinany kept him close for this very reason, he was a clever human being both characteristics saw their use in the legion, cleverness and humanity.

“I was made into a leader Sourlan, not because I like to stare at forests I am well aware of the difficulties that lie ahead not only of the legion but also of humankind which is why I am rallying my forces once again, but this conflict… what do you think we should do Sourlan? It is our duty to heed the call of help of any human… but when they would see our hand strike another human then we have to question ourselves” Mattheus looked at Sourlan and expected an answer, it came faster than he expected

“A steak will not be made without a sacrifice of livestock first, yet this does not mean that the sacrifice is in vain for it will feed higher beings… yet the livestock would voice their discomfort if they could” Sourlan answers to such deep questions always involved a wacky analogy that really didn’t answered concretely the question, but neither did they left it unanswered and that was perhaps why Mattheus valued him

“I will have to meet my generals to discuss and I also need to speak with Grigori, will he be present at the meeting?”

Sourlan nodded as he spoke “Word and riders are out already surely if he indeed values our support he will be there”

Mattheus then turned his back to the forest and said “Mageriff, Rovandiel, Haran and Garithos… I look forward to meet my brothers in arms once again, yet I wish that we would fight an enemy of humanity not a brother… but the time will come”

Mattheus then made his way to the road, the legion would prepare for battle once again.


***********
OOC: I want for the Fist of humanity (Gustav Mageriff, Levin Rovandiel, Vasgren Haran, Herubrad Garithos and Mattheus Perinany) to meet with Grigori
Lol the fist has 5 fingers and its composed by 5 leaders im so clever
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Megatron: You've forgotten something else: I am your prisoner. I've been granted conditional bail while we look for the Knights of Cybertron. Where in my bail terms does it say—where precisely does it say—that I have to risk my life to save a handful of strangers? Where does it say that?

Skids taps Megatron's Autobot badge.

Skids: Right. There. What does that badge even mean to you? How has wearing it forced you to modify your behaviour? I'm serious! How has being an Autobot in any way prevented you from doing exactly what you want? Because if the answer is "it hasn't"—then nothing you've said or done in the last six months counts for anything.

Last edited by Mark_Romaneck; 06-27-2009 at 04:20 PM..
  #270  
Old 06-28-2009, 03:01 AM
Kerrah Kerrah is offline

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OOC: I want for the Fist of humanity (Gustav Mageriff, Levin Rovandiel, Vasgren Haran, Herubrad Garithos and Mattheus Perinany) to meet with Grigori
Lol the fist has 5 fingers and its composed by 5 leaders im so clever
He's kind of being raped by Javali's army ATM.
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True glory consists in doing what deserves to be written; in writing what deserves to be read; and in so living as to make the world happier for our living in it.

Co-creator of UFS, a joint urban fantasy setting.
  #271  
Old 06-28-2009, 06:05 AM
Wulfang Wulfang is offline

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He's kind of being raped by Javali's army ATM.
[Actually, the Hesperian army has suffered much more casualties then the Kirin Mora by now.]
  #272  
Old 06-28-2009, 08:30 AM
Kerrah Kerrah is offline

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[Actually, the Hesperian army has suffered much more casualties then the Kirin Mora by now.]
We have reserves.
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Originally Posted by Pliny the Elder
True glory consists in doing what deserves to be written; in writing what deserves to be read; and in so living as to make the world happier for our living in it.

Co-creator of UFS, a joint urban fantasy setting.
  #273  
Old 07-03-2009, 01:10 PM
Wulfang Wulfang is offline

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Lordaeron

Marshal Sherman rallied his forces and marched from Stratholme the following morning. The town officials organized a recovery operation for the bodies of the fallen, which were to be burned ceremonially on a great pyre.

Sherman only regretted that he would not be there to witness the last rites being given to his dear brothers in arms. There was just no time to be lost. The longer that was left until his arrival at Corin's Crossing, the more time that the Maroon High Council had to escape.

Pureblood and his Witch Hunters led the way through Strattania, past the remnants of towns and villages which had been burned ransacked by the rampaging armies of Brux; the very army that had been destroyed at Stratholme.

"How in the hells did the cultists manage to ally with Gnolls?" Sherman muttered to himself. At his side, Pureblood shrugged.
"I've seen some nasty things in my time as a Witch Hunter, Marshal. This is was just another card in the deck that the pagans play."
"What have they played in the past that I haven't seen, then?" Sherman asked.
Pureblood managed an awkward grin. Sherman suddenly gave thought the scars lining the young man's face.
"Well, Marshal Sherman. Let's just say that their Four Gods are more than just concepts. When you're in the heat of it, and you see some truly crazy things, you no longer question that much."

Corin's Crossing loomed over the horizon by evening. It was a huge settlement wedged between a myriad of hills. Corin's Crossing looked like a ghost town. There were no lights, no fires, no sounds of occupation coming from within. Sherman felt unnerved by the sight of the place. He could handle any foe upon the field of battle without fear, but something like this, a promise of an unseen enemy, was more intimidating.
"What can we expect, Pureblood?"
The Witch Hunter shrugged.
"What can't we expect?"

The army moved into the town with utmost caution, every footstep crashing into the silence. Sherman began to suspect that he was far too late to catch the High Council, which would likely have heard of the defeat of its pawns, Wiglaf Folles and Sagan, by now. Suddenly, Sherman halted the battalions and stalled his horse.
"Pureblood!"
The Witch Hunter stood at attention.
"Aye, Marshal?"
"Spread out and look for traces of the High Council. If they are not here, perhaps we can catch up with them. Hopefully, they're not too far gone by now."

Sherman looked around him. He could not help but wonder what fate had befallen the innocent townsfolk of Corin's Crossing who had not yielded to the Maroon fanatacism.

A violent cry rang out; a shrieking wail. Two Witch Hunters beckoned Sherman inside what seemed to be the town hall. Pureblood was there with several of his lieutenants, with swords drawn, cornering a small gathering dressed in brown rags.
"Whom am I addressing! Speak!" Pureblood commanded.
"What have we here?" Sherman asked, relieved that the search had turned up something.

One of the elders stepped forward, hatred alight in his eyes.
"You are too late! The High Council left before your arrival. Brux has guided them to safety so that they may fight you another day."
Sherman lost control, for but a split second, and backhanded the man to the ground.
"Insolent heretic!"
"I know you." the man replied, as he wiped blood from his mouth. "You are the Butcher!"
"Butcher? Do you want to know what I really am, cultist?" Sherman spat, drawing his sword. "I do the work of a righteous man. Have you ever read the Book of Patron Godfrey? No? Let me bless you with Passage 25:17. The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I serve the Light when I lay my vengeance upon you."
The man stood defiant till the end, but the Marshal decapited him nonetheless. "Pureblood! Mount the Witch Hunters! Sniff out the Maroon High Council! Lead me to them! You are trained to smell their ilk out. They can't have gotten far."
Pureblood nodded.
"What shall we do with the cultists that they left behind?"
"Burn them." Sherman replied.

In mere minutes, Sherman, Pureblood and the Witch Hunters were mounting their horses. The trail was not yet cold. The training that the Witch Hunters received would lead them straight to the High Council.
"They are not far!" Pureblood calls out. "A mile or two at most!"
"Then ride, damn you!" Sherman roars, kicking his horse after the Witch Hunters. They thundered down onto the roads, leaving the army to continue on to Tyr's Hand. Sherman promised his lieutenants that he would meet them there.

Every minute that passed seemed to bring the Witch Hunters into a more furious frenzy. They were drawing closer and they knew it. Sherman felt the opportunity for vengeance bubbling closer. The riders broke into the open plains, and then they could see a cloud of dust being thrown into the air in the distance.
"They too are on horseback! After them! Ride like never before!" Pureblood yells.

"Shoot down their mounts beneath them!" Sherman commanded.
The Witch Hunters readied their bows, superior archers even on horseback. They drew nearer, and fired. Several figures tumbled to the ground in a heap. Sherman could see that some of the targets had been crushed or killed.
"Round them up!"

Then the Maroons turned, and Sherman saw that they were willing to fight to the last. There were men and women of various ages, dressed in different robes and vestments. The gap between them and the Witch Hunters closed, and then they were engaged. Using nets, the Witch Hunters managed to bring down many Maroons without seriously injuring them, but the rest were slaughtered easily. Whatever they had to their credit, the High Council was not composed of the best fighters in Strattania. That much was clear.

After the struggle was over, the surviving Maroons were rounded into a crowd and shackled. Sherman and Pureblood dismounted to address them.
Sherman felt a surge of relief. Now he would be able to exact vengeance.
"Something is not right." Pureblood muttered.
"What's wrong, Pureblood?" Sherman asked. "We have them at last, don't we?"

"All that matters, fools, is that Amron has escaped." one of the councilors laughed. She was a woman, fair haired and quite beautiful. Of all of the council, she had put up the most valiant resistance.
"Damnit." Pureblood grated, turning to Sherman. "Our intelligence gathered enough to know that 'Amron' was their highest ranking official. These might have been decoys."
Sherman folded his arms.
"No matter. We have the rest of the council. What good is one man without anyone to command? You, what is your name?"

"I am Yune the Bloodmaid, chosen of Brux." the woman responded proudly, pride in her demeanor. "And whatever you believe, we will live on. Andol besieges Tyr's Hand as we speak. Amron lives, and thus the Maroon High Council will endure. You have failed, Marshal."
Sherman: And you've only bought them a few more days, you inbred bitch. They will soon be squashed like bugs by my own fist!
*to Pureblood* Kill them all, except this "Bloodmaid". She won't have the luxury of a swift death. Have her chained and bring her with us. We'll interrogate her later.

Pureblood nodded and the Witch Hunters quickly dispatched the barbarians, setting their corpses aflame in a pyre that could be seen for miles. The High Council would certainly know their trick wouldn't keep them safe for long.

Sherman: *to Yune again* We will break you, I assure you. When our "interrogators" are done, you will wish you could bite off your own tongue, but you won't even have the strength for that.

Yune kept her pride demeanour, as if unmoved by Sherman's words. Such was their fanaticism that they lost any instinct of self-preservation, Sherman thought.

Sherman: Mount you horses and ride to rejoin the main army! Tyr's Hand awaits us!

Quote:
Originally Posted by Timolas View Post
Meanwhile, around the outskirts of Andorhal, the main vanguard of the Lordaeron army drawing close to the city. Witch Hunter Commander Adaen Melrache commanded the legion in its entirety. Melrache was one of the favoured amidst Archbishop Marden's retinue, and there had been good reason to send him to lead here. Standing at the front of his steel-clad wall of swords and shields, Adaen Melrache could not help but smirk. Despite the losses that the vanguard had suffered fighting the People's Front in the midland, he hoped to finish off the rebels once and for all now that they were convening in this place.

Andorhal would be the site of the definitive battle for the midland. Adaen Melrache was only too glad to be the one to lead the sons and daughters of Lordaeron in this struggle. Trained in the dungeons of the Archbishop to rise to become the most talented Witch Hunter Lordaeron had ever seen, it was no surprise that Melrache was a feared man.

As the army got closer, it was increasingly clear that there was trouble brewing in Andorhal. Plumes of smoke rose from the city. Cries and shouts of battle emnated from within.

"Captain. Report." Melrache bellowed when the captain of the vanguard rode back to the army, after having checked out the city of Andorhal.
"Commander Melrache." the captain said. "The gates are barred."
Melrache stroked his chin.
"Then the People's Front are already at work. Take two chapters of Witch Hunters and open the gates for us. I'm going to flank the city and make sure not a single rebel gets out of there alive."

The soldiers were rushed to various stations along the roads, while Commander Adaen himself gathered together several battalions to storm into the city. He waited for half an hour, and then quite suddenly, the city gates swung open. The Witch Hunter chapters were waiting on the other side.
"Strike down anyone who does not pledge allegiance to the Light or the crown!" Adaen commanded, and led the charge of soldiers streaming into the city.

They quickly met savage resistance from rangers and axemen dressed for life in the wilds. These were the rebels who had hounded the vanguard from the cover of the forests, and struck at them when they were least prepared. The men who they were fighting now were the brutes of the People's Front; many of which had helped Canbrad infiltrate Lordaeron City on the eve of the public execution of Maximus Krowl.

Adaen Melrache had one target in particular. As a Witch Hunter, he would hunt down Canbrad's advisor; the Maroon hedgewizard, Oran. The man who had helped mastermind the attack in Lordaeron City, and the man who had fought Thomassy and helped Canbrad escape after the assault. Oran; a man who had served in Dalaran. Adaen had done his research. This Oran had turned to harsher magics, and had somehow ended up in the employ of the People's Front. He was no doubt the link between the Maroon Cult in Strattania and the People's Front. If Oran could be slain, the link would be broken.

"Push them into the city squares! Slaughter them in the dozen!" Adaen Melrache yelled, pushing through crowds of fleeing people to strike at those who raised weapons against him. The city guard still endured in some places, heavily besieged. Fortunately, the arrival of the Lordaeron soldiers had helped relieve them of their burdens.

Melrache soon found himself cut off from the rest of his party. He was accompanied only by a few of his personal guard and several Witch Hunters.
"We need to regroup. Captain, do you have any idea which part of the city we are in?" Adaen asked.
"Western part, sir, judging from the town hall to the east."
"Well, push towards the city gates. That'll bring us closer to the army and we can use the walls to locate the rest of the men."

Adaen Melrache and his retinue continued their struggle, encountering spots of resistance on the way. The frenzy was quickly getting out of hand. It was difficult to distinguish friend from foe. Eventually, they managed to climb onto the ramparts, and look across at the city.
"By the Light." Adaen murmured.
From their viewpoint, they could see the bands of Lordaeron soldiers struggling aimlessly through the city. They were being picked off by a myriad of archers sheltering and firing from inside and on top of buildings. At every turn the soldiers of Lordaeron were being hounded and struck at, without a single target to focus on.
"It's a slaughter."

Suddenly Adaen could see that the flag flying above the town hall was being lowered, and soon, a new banner was being hoisted. The crest of Hearthglen combined with the symbols of the rebellion; silver sickle and sword of the People's Front.
"Canbrad must be in the town hall." Adaen murmured.
"My lord!" the captain yelled. "Look! The warehouses!"

Teams of soldiers, no doubt serving the Front, were clambering up the hillsides in the north of the town towards the grain warehouses of Andorhal. The city was the food centre of the kingdom; if anything befell the supplies, many towns and villages would starve. Adaen and his soldiers charged down the walls, hoping to take the shortcuts in the streets to reach the warehouses in time.

A cold voice rang out behind Adaen just as they turned one of the corners. Standing proudly as ever was none other than Oran, the weathered Bruxist hedgewizard. He seemed more worn by time since their last encounter.
"Commander! Thank you for coming."
"I was hoping to find you." Adaen said through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on his Witchblade.
"Put that away, before it is too late. Let us negotiate, Commander." Oran said.
"We do not treaty with rebels!" Adaen spat.
"Oh? You do not? Would it surprise you to learn that Maximus Krowl, our dear master, betrayed us?"

The notion seemed ridiculous.
"I am not surprised! You are worthless scum, one and all." Adaen growled.
Oran sighed.
"It became evident when some of Krowl's lieutenants tried to sabotage our plans. Canbrad caught them himself. We tortured them. They confessed everything. Recall, not too long ago, how we tried to free Krowl from execution. We failed. Ah, or so it seemed. We know that Krowl is alive. The game is up, Commander."

However, Adaen Melrache was out of his league. Whatever Oran was speaking of, he had not a clue. He had seen Krowl die with his own two eyes; this rebel must be mad or truly misinformed.
"You play mind tricks with me, rebel." Adaen grunted.
"Oh, so you are just a pawn then, Commander? Forgive me for wasting both our time. Regardless, you have a choice. Break off the siege and leave Andorhal to us, or we will burn the warehouses to the ground. Already your forces inside the city are being slaughtered. You have no chance of victory, unless you take us all down with you."
"You call yourselves the 'People's Front'? You would condemn the people to starvation. I'm calling your bluff, Oran."
"Are you so certain?"
Melrache was paralyzed. All was lost. Fighting back would mean the destruction of the precious grain that fed most of the population. Retreating would allow them to establish a foothold and cause even more damage to their nation. Adaen analyzed the options over and over agian, trying to find a solution. There was none, and the damned hedgewizard revelled in the despair he was inflicting on the Witch Hunter, his mocking smile enraging him even further.

Oran: So commander, what are you going to be? A defeated man or a dead man?

Snapping out of his thoughts, Adaen made a decision. With lightning reflexes, he pulled a small knife from his belt and threw it at the heretic, hitting the wall and sticking right next to his face, now filled with bewilderment.

Adaen: I'll be a patriot.

And, with a flash of brown, the wizard disappeared.

Melrache knew time was precious, so he quickly cast a communication spell to the captains leading the rest of the army. What they were about to do was not only suicidal but, if it failed, could very well leave the kingdom in shambles.

Adaen: *speaking towards a small shimmering disk* Men, the situation is desperate. The People's Front are heavily entrenched in the city and they threaten to burn the warehouses if we do not retreat. However, if we bend ourselves to their will, we will have undermined the whole of Lordaeron. Men, I need you to stay and fight. We may very well die in the course of this battle, but we need to protect those warehouses, or our families will starve. I want all troops to head to the warehouses and protect them with your lives. Even if our bodies are torn to shreds in the process, we need to make sure the food for our families and compatriots remains. For each of our men they kill, we will kill five of them! Fight to the last breath, refuse to cross death's door until our mission is accomplished! Our lives may be forfeit, but they won't take the lives of the future generations! FOR LORDAERON, PRESENT AND FUTURE!

Adaen cut off the communication. He too was heading to his death, but he decided to gamble his life on another front.

Adaen: *to the soldiers following him* Follow me. We're going to storm the town hall. Even if we have to bite him to death, Canbrad isn't leaving Andorhal alive.

Last edited by Wulfang; 07-03-2009 at 01:51 PM..
  #274  
Old 07-05-2009, 10:44 AM
Timolas Timolas is offline


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OOC: It's taken so long mostly because of the enormity of the updates I am having to write now making me hide and procrastinate. But let's get this moving again.

In one week I'm going to London and Amsterdam and I'll be away for two weeks... so let's try and get Fenris on the road before I leave.

Lordaeron

Within the city of Andorhal, all hell continued to break loose. The fighting was reaching a climax, and Adaen Melrache had ordered the rush to reclaim the food stores and warehouses.

It was the creation of a single goal for the Lordaeron army to converge upon that restored to its troops a sense of unity and purpose. They were no longer just aimlessly milling through Andorhal. Now they had a target. The food capital of Lordaeron just over the hills to the north of town. Each and every soldier knew that if they allowed the People's Front to torch those supplies, their families would starve.

Thus it was that the white and blue colours of Lordaeron stampeded through the People's Front, cutting and slicing through the surprised rebels that clustered around the supplies. They were cornered, with their backs to the warehouses, and no avenues of escape. Oran, the Maroon wizard, shoved his way through them and ordered them to set fire to the granaries.
"Raze them to the ground! Do not allow our sacrifices to be in vain! Torch everything! For the People's Front!"

Yet, his tired and weary rebels did not comply. Anger surged through Oran as he looked across his men, who refused to carry out their orders.
"What in the hells is wrong with you? Obey my commands!"
One of the men threw down his sword instead, his eyes narrowed and his posture bold.
"No. We've already lost. Why should we condemn our own people? What will it achieve?"

Oran flew into a rage, and backhanded the deviant.
"How dare you?"
At this, the injured man grabbed Oran by the collar and threw him into the barricades. The surprised hedgewizard had no time to react before his head crashed into the wood, knocking him out. Just then, a line of Lordaeron soldiers surged over the barricades, converging around the final defenders of the People's Front.

However, the rebels had followed the example given, and had cast down their arms. The battle for the warehouses was already over. The patriot who had defied Oran inclined his head to the soldiers of Lordaeron.
"I am Lieutenant Warren Greystone. We lay down our arms and put ourselves at the king's mercy."

Wrought with indecision, the de facto captain of the Lordaeron soldiers pondered what to do next.
He had, after all, been ordered not to take any prisoners.

---

Meanwhile, Adaen Melrache and his personal entourage were wasting no time. They were rushing in the opposite direction; towards the town hall. Adaen knew that if Canbrad was allowed to escape, then the People's Front would live on. The removal of Krowl from the leadership echelon had not stopped the People's Front. Adaen knew it was because of this man; this one defiant old man who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

Adaen and his Witch Hunters found the town hall undefended. They charged in, and were met with a shocking sight. The magistrate of Andorhal was dangling from a rafter, a noose wrapped around his neck. At his feet were the corpses of who had no doubt been his clerks and advisors. Not one of them had been spared the sword.

"Animals." Adaen spat.

Finally, Adaen set foot in the main hall. It was a vast room, littered with chairs and tables intended to seat the aristocracy of town. At the very end was the red seat of the magistrate, upon which an old man sat, alone.

Adaen had only seen Canbrad once, and it had been at a distance. It had been during the attack on Lordaeron City. That occassion had been enough, however. Adaen knew without a doubt that this man was Canbrad. Canbrad's white beard and hair were dirtied and his armour was torn. His eyes were shadowed and his complexion was pale. This old man was clearly at the end of his days.
"Welcome to the shadows of Andorhal." Canbrad announced, rising from his seat to applaud the Witch Hunters.

"Are you ready to die, old man?" Adaen asked, leading his Witch Hunters forward with swords raised.

Canbrad only smiled grimly.
"I have been ready to die for years, youngling." he said with a sigh. "However, while I still draw breath I hope to serve my country. As you can see, I am not trying to escape Andorhal. This rotted granary will be my last stand. I have run from your petty king for long enough."

Adaen ignored the old man's rumblings, and motioned for his hunters to circle Canbrad.
"Do you have any last words, Canbrad?"
The old man barked a laugh.
"Only this." he began, drawing his sword. "A storm is coming. What I tried to do was to open the eyes of the people, so that we could all stand together and survive the coming war. But it seems that my dream was in vain. You will all die. I have seen it in my dreams."

Now Adaen could see that it was exhaustion and despair which had reduced Canbrad to this state. Whatever was on his mind had taken its toll.
"Like your hedgewizard, you speak nonsense. Now make your last stand."

Adaen could barely finish his sentence before Canbrad was upon him. Despite his disatvantages, the old rebel struck with animalistic fury. The Witch Hunters stepped back at Adaen's signal. This old fool would be allowed an honourable death. Adaen deflected several blows aimed at his chest, but soon found himself being pushed back. His injuries from the struggle in the streets were hampering him. Canbrad was, after all, the one with the advantage.

Not wishing to waste any more time, Adaen whipped out a throwing knife from his belt and hurled it. It spiralled and thudded into Canbrad's side, and the old man could not help but lower his defenses. In that precise moment, Adaen struck the killing blow, driving his sword through Canbrad's throat. The old man's eyes rolled back, and he gurgled blood. Then he was down.

"Our task here is complete." Adaen grunted. "Andorhal will be secured. Send word to the king and to Marshal Sherman of what has transpired here. We will await further orders."

---

Ravenholdt

Faldren Darafel's false smile slowly crumbled as he returned Van Dam's stare. He adjusted his collar, and then tapped his chin.
"Intriguing." he repeated.

"Well?" Van Dam asked, prepared for the worst.

"Fenris Isle, you say? The Admiral of Kul Tiras? Plunder?" Faldren mused, clearly uncertain. "It sounds like suicide, my boy. Really, it does. I'm no fool. I've travelled these waters all my life, and if one thing is certain, I know that when a king is on the water, he's not unaccompanied."

"In that case." Van Dam grumbled, running a finger along the Fang.

"Don't get me wrong." Faldren cut in with a dashing grin and a wink. "I like danger. In fact, I love it, and danger loves me too! How else would a scary assassin end up on my ship? So I'll tell you what, comrade!"

"Do tell." Van Dam said. It was mildly satisfying to see this self-styled admiral tackle his words to save his own hide. Van Dam was also secretly satisfied that he would not have to test this admiral's mettle. Either way, pirates hated assassins, and it went both ways. It was an ingrained spite with origins that could not be traced.

"Well, I will allow you to squat on my ship on my way home. I'll investigate Lordamere, and by the gods I hope you aren't toying with me. Of course, in exchange, I hope you stick to your ninja, assassin or whatever you call yourself code. Repay the favour! Let's work together sometime."

"Perhaps." Van Dam allowed. He would not sign himself up for anything without knowing what he was getting himself into. At least he could get to Fenris in time this way, without signing any deals.

"Oh, and you'll have to share a room with Nibbles." Faldren said, his voice wicked with delight.

A large brown gnoll next to Faldren gave a snort and a bark.
"You with me, human." it dribbled.

There were some things that Van Dam had not trained himself against, and the following nights were an example of such.

Despite the overwhelming stench of the pirates and their crude humour, the voyage north was, for the most part, rather pleasant. They passed through narrow valleys, creeks and waterways that most ships would have missed entirely. Faldren steered them clear of any dangers, often whistling or singing to himself along the way. Van Dam even found him to be decent in a conversation, although they had very little love for one another, and even less in common.

"How did you end up trying to kill me, anyway?" Faldren asked Van Dam one evening as they rounded a bend. By now they were in Alterac, and were taking a western river down towards Lordamere.
"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." Van Dam replied, looking off into the distance.
"Very funny." Faldren grumbled. "In all fairness, I have a right to ask. You're a strange and scary man and you're sleeping a few feet away from me."

Van Dam shrugged.
"But what about yourself, Admiral? Do enlighten me; how is it that a generous and kind man of your calibre ended up raiding and pillaging?"
"Oh! What a tale! And how often I tell it and retell it. Of course, every time I change a few of the details around." Faldren replied. "But I'll tell you. For starters, I'm a half-elf. Or quarter elf. Born in Caer Darrow, I think. I'm not sure. Or perhaps I am something else, but I wouldn't tell you anyway. Either way, my human parent took me home to Alterac, where I was raised along the river, being heroic and fishing and wrestling bears. After murdering a dozen officials and making friends with the Chancellors, I became, admiral. Or something like that."

Eventually, the ship anchored and most of the crew rowed ashore. Van Dam and Faldren joined them, where they set up a small campfire. Naturally, Van Dam stayed well away from them, enjoying some fresh air under the shadow of a tree.
Suddenly, one of the crew shouted in alarm. Van Dam jumped to his feet peered onto the beach.
"Great. It better not be those pesky vengeful villagers." Faldren grumbled.

Van Dam could see that a ragged man was ambling along the shoreline. Realising that the pirates would likely kill him, Van Dam rushed forward and intercepted them. The ragged man keeled over, and Vam Dam got to his knees to inspect him. Faldren was soon at the scene, glaring in disdain.
"Careful, you might get it on your shoes, assassin."

Ignoring the pirate, Van Dam rested the man's head in his lap.
"Get me some food, quickly, Faldren!"
Suddenly, Faldren's eyes were wide, and his mouth ajar. It was the expression of recognition. Van Dam eyed the pirate with equal surprise.
"Do you know him?"
"Perhaps. Bring him into camp."
Within the hour, the man was seated next to the fire and had eaten. He had said nothing so far. The pirates glared at him angrily, but nobody wanted to cross Van Dam. Finally, Van Dam took the man aside, away from the pirates.

The ragged man was unshaven, his eyes wild. Under the mess, he was clearly just a middle-aged fellow, and quite unremarkable. He would have passed for a villager, had his rags not formerly been robes. Van Dam had his suspicions.
"Tell me your name, if you can. You can speak freely now. As long as you are with me, you are safe."
Nodding, the ragged figure raised his head.
"My name is Caxagord. Who are you?"
"Who I am is not important, Caxagord. What matters is that you tell me what happened to you."
The man's facade crumbled, and he nearly burst into tears. He tore the rags off of his chest, to reveal a glaring eruption of pink skin, surrounding a scorch mark. Van Dam gasped. It must have been a terrible wound, though it had healed for the most part. It was surely a terrible burn.

Caxagord sobbed, and nearly fell over, but Van Dam supported him.
"I was betrayed." Caxagord moaned. He was clearly delirious, barely acknowledging Van Dam. He simply ranted on, disregarding to who he spoke or why. "Lord Xie... I should have known better.... should have known I was next..."
"What are you on about, man?" Van Dam asked, trying to gain coherency out of the frail figure.
"I was Lord Xie's Court Wizard..." Caxagord moaned. "And then, that fool, Bergan, usurped me. I was left for dead..."

Slowly the story unfolded. Caxagord had been the Court Wizard of Alterac and servant to its king, Lord Xie. He had read the history of his nation; how the Xie bloodline, believing itself to be blessed, had inbred for generations. This had turned the family mad over more than a century, forcing Alterac's Chancellors to secretly assume command. Caxagord had been one of them, but he had witnessed that selfishness, and their disregard for the nation. Xie was just their puppet. Thus, Caxagord had turned Xie on the Chancellors, and most of them had been executed.

Save for a vengeful few...

It was one of the last Chancellors, Bergan, who had regained control over Xie, and had nearly killed Caxagord.

"That is my tale." Caxagord finished, his eyes red and strained. "The Chancellors are trying to regain control... and my beloved king tried to have me killed. Thinking I had been killed, Xie had me thrown into Lordamere Lake, but I swam to the shore... I've wandered along this river for days, trying to return to the capital to inform Gabranth of what has transpired..."

This must be why Faldren Darafel had recognized Caxagord... The Admiral would know his Court Wizard.

Suddenly, Van Dam swung around to face the shore. He could see the pirates staring at them.

"Caxagord, you must tell me, who is Faldren Darafel with? Is he a danger to us? Does he side with the Chancellors?"

"I don't know." Caxagord moaned. "Every group in Alterac serves its own ends... that is why I hope to reach General Gabranth, the regent. Maybe he can stand against Bergan."

"Unless he is working with Bergan." Vam Dam mouthed.

Van Dam then realised that he had gotten himself into the middle of a huge political war, and just on the beach was Admiral Faldren Darafel, one of the leading parties in this struggle. He knew that there was a lot at risk. Faldren had not tried to kill Caxagord yet, and had not even addressed him. There were unspoken words. A shiver ran along Van Dam's spine.

---

Amani

Jin'thek knew that he was likely in danger. Nonetheless, he remained stalwart in the face of this strange god.

Mueh'zala - a god of death. A whisper from his childhood memories.

"Shadra." Mueh'zala chuckled. "You would try to wake a mad spider? If you try to speak with Shadra, she will consume your soul. You would not be the first to try, troll. Her followers have tried to awaken her, but only manage to get themselves consumed. I will not stop you, but I sense great potential in you. I do not wish to see you wasted."

Jin'thek did not falter.
"Yet it is my decision, Mueh'zala."

An eerie laugh crept into Jin'thek's thoughts.
"So brave. Bravery will not save you from death, troll. I would know." he declared. "Yet, before you depart my company, I wish to know some things."

"What would you know, Mueh'zala?" Jin'thek asked suspiciously.

"I have not been visited in a long time, troll. My touch with the world... it has faded. I cannot see anymore. I dream here, blind. There was a time when I reigned... when the dark troll empire spoke with me directly through my son. But my memory... it has gaps in it. I forget things. Tell me, troll, tell me something about the world outside."

Uncertain of what to say, Jin'thek remained silent.

A furious rumble responded.
"Your confusion is the sign of a weak mind. Is my request not simple? Mueh'zala grated. "I live in a timeless river of bickering gods and damned creatures... For brief moments I have fleeting visions of the world that forsook me... so few speak with me. Troll, there comes a point in eternity where one questions why one even exists. I am alone and cold. Why will you not speak with me?"

Jin'thek remained overshadowed by the blatant rage of this freakish god, trying to muster a reply.

"Go then, if that is what you will. Go and leave me to my isolation, if you cannot even tell me why my children are dead, why the world falls silent."

The fierce grip on Jin'thek's soul lessened, and the presence of Mueh'zala began to recede.
Jin'thek knew that he could reply to Mueh'zala before he vanished, but he was no longer sure he wanted to.

If one thing was clear, however, it was that the followers of Mueh'zala were not truly hearing the voice of their master, whom they had forsaken. No, if there were priests of Mueh'zala left in the world, they only followed their own interpretations of their god, not his true wishes.

It was a sad fate that befell many Loa. Perhaps it was what had driven Shadra to madness; isolation. Yet, how could such a thing come to pass if Jintha'alor in its entirety worshipped her?

Jin'thek was not certain. Perhaps it was the influence of other gods which sickened these ones in such a fashion. There were ancient tales of malign gods of the old world who had the power to feed off of true gods.

Whatever the case, Jin'thek was far from finished in this realm.

---

Perinany

Gustav Mageriff, Levin Rovandiel, Vasgren Haran, Herubrad Garithos and Mattheus Perinany - the names of the five that ultimately made the fist of the Perinany Legion.

The time had come to make plans and settle things. It would be necessary to deliberate the Perinany Legion's next move. War was coming, and Mattheus knew he would have to act responsibly if his men were to survive it.

Their base, Raven Keep, was several miles to the west in the mountains of Silverpine. Yet, that was not to be the place of the grand meeting. They wanted to speak with Grigori Dosantos. After all, he was the one who had contacted them.

News had reached Mattheus that Grigori Dosantos was based in Ambermill, and the dictator of Dalaran, Javali, was besieging him. For this reason, the noble Perinany Legion had gathered for the meeting close to Ambermill.

Levin Rovandiel had been sent to bring a message to Grigori, to summon him to the Glade of the Sword, one of the Perinany Legion's sacred meeting places. From the high point of the Glade, Mattheus could see Ambermill in the distance. Fires raged under the shadows of the night. There was much fighting. Mattheus hoped that Rovandiel would return safely, and he was certain that he would, for Rovandiel was resourceful.

Soon, the fist was reunited. Rovandiel rode into the Glade. Another rider accompanied him. It was a dark haired man, who dismounted and lifted his hood to reveal the familiar face of Grigori Dosantos.

"General Perinany." Girgori said. "I have come. I hope that you have good reason to call me away from my men. The Kirin Mora needs me to hold Ambermill. Yet, I know we cannot hold for long, dear general. That is why I come to you, humbly, seeking the assistance of the fist."

Mattheus regarded the other four members of the fist around him. The meeting had begun, it seemed.
"I hear you, Grigori."

---

Skirvar

Back in Ironforge, tensions were rising. Research had long been underway on several projects, but all the while, the Highthane's health was deteriorating. Many looked to and fro, wondering what would transpire if the Highthane were truly to pass on.

Blackhammer had arrived from Port Baradin. The Dark Iron dwarf had been ambushed, it was said, but Thane Skirvar Thaurissian's forces had helped stave off the assault. It had put Blackhammer in Skirvar's debt.

Yet, Skirvar had been away from Ironforge for a long time indeed. Many worried that without Skirvar, a civil war might unfold if the Highthane died. Thane Featherbeard of the Wildhammers had become regent in Skirvar's absence. However, he had expressed no desire to take the crown.

The Bronzebeards under Rogni Bronzebeard seemed happy enough to attempt to take charge in case of the Highthane's death, and this put them at odds with the Dark Irons and Wildhammers. There was a lot of tension.

Finally, Blackhammer seemed suspiciously interested in gaining favour with the Highthane. Cagrelm Flamebeard, the Highthane's bodyguard, was having none of it.

In the midst of this confusion was Yarin. Yarin was the scout who had been sent to arrange the safety of Blackhammer. He was acting in place of Skirvar in the name of the Dark Irons until he returned.

One morning, he was approached in his headquarters by none other than Thane Featherbeard himself. It was an unexpected visit, and it seemed that the Wildhammer thane was doing it in secrecy.

"Yarin, if ye would speak te me?" Featherbeard intoned.
Yarin bowed to Featherbeard.
"Of course. What is it ye need, comrade? My doors are always open to ye?"
"Highthane Anvilmar is dying, lad."
"That aint big news, Featherbeard." Yarin replied.
"No, listen to me, lad." Featherbeard replied. "It might be this very week. He's on his deathbed."

Yarin's brows knotted.
"We're in trouble."
"Aye, lad." Featherbeard replied. "But I got a plan. Tis' somethin we shudda done a long time ago."

Yarin had some idea of what it was.
"D'ye mean the Highthane's lost son?"

Featherbeard nodded gravely.
"He's the only heir, Yarin. We can find him. He'd take the crown in da face o' civil war."

"Aye." Yarin said. "I should contact Thane Skirvar. If he allows me, we can send a party to bring Relgast Anvilmar home."

This seemed to please Thane Featherbeard.
"Good thing, lad. Ye should know that Relgast was last seen in the Wetlands, near the raptor city of Cary'leh."

That sent a chill down Yarin's spine.
"Cary'leh? That's a dangerous place."
Featherbeard folded his arms.
"Aye, and that's why we must waste no time. I don' know what Relgast is thinkin, but we gotta bring him home."
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Last edited by Timolas; 07-05-2009 at 12:41 PM..
  #275  
Old 07-05-2009, 02:01 PM
Zula Zula is offline

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‘WAIT!’ Jin’thek’s voice resounded in the spirit realm hoping the anguished god heard him. He could not see his eyes but he could feel the loneliness of eternity the being suffered. ‘No’ he said to himself ‘He is a god, I have no need to see his soul through his eyes. His very existence is a reflection of his soul’



‘Loas are like a family Jin’thek, but there are those who don’t work together with the rest’ ‘Like the soulflayer who worked alone against the wishes of the rest, there is one group, you could call it a smaller family that keeps between themselves. It was one member, of this family, the ancient Dark Troll empire worshiped. A god of life and death my son called Mueh’zala’ Those were the words spoken by his mother long ago, words that now came back to his mind. Mueh’zala was the patron of that Trollish Empire.
He could tell him what happened to his followers and his son.. no wait his son was a Dark troll..and the son of Mueh’zala a god of life and death just like.... The Prophet?
If the Prophet was the same son Mueh’zala spoke then, didn’t he claimed to be acting on the orders of his father? But Mueh’zala’s sadness didn’t lied either the Prophet was acting on his on accord or he was listening to the wrong whispers......
So he could answer to the gods questions and even get answers of his own, and maybe just maybe the god would help him out of his kindness.

‘Mueh’zala, I the only Dark Troll Empire I heard of dissapeared ages ago, if thats the last thing you remember then the world you knew longer exist. The land was shattered by elven greed, the lured demons from beyond to our world and in order to defeat them the big lake was used to turn the world asunder. Your empire who was already weakned by their armies colapsed, a fate destined eventually to most trollish empires.’

The pressure changed, it almost felt like something really big turned towards his side. Maybe he got the god’s attention

‘Thats what happened to your followers, but your son. He claimed to be a son of Mnethes a god of life and also death, a member of the four. He made me an outrageous offer I could do nothing but to refuse, to ally with the bastards that crushed the might and will of my people. Descedants and even in some cases the same bastards that crushed the Dark Troll Empire and dammed you to this eterniy of loneliness.’
__________________
Quote:
Originally Posted by Timolas roleplaying with Xie
"Take me, Xie! I know you dream of me as I dream of you; you haunt me Xie! Take me! Take me like an aminal Xie!"
Xie wants YOU to check Wulfang brainchild RIGHT NOW. SO click on this text

Last edited by Zula; 07-05-2009 at 03:50 PM..
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