Old sights, It seems that the Kingdom finally got their heads out of their collective arses and fixed the damage Deathwing had caused to the front gate of the Capital City. The guards at the main gate checkpoint gazed in awe as he drove past on his custom built traveling bike, a common occurrence and a perk of the mechanized device. It was probably for the best that fate had brought him back to Stromwind proper, as the creaking frame and much abused suspension were in need of heavy repair. It struck him ironic that he was known to most as Happy the gnome, when his mind and expression reflected no feeling resembling happiness.
Once he dropped off the bike at the shop in Old Town he took a small detour to grab some lunch, then wandered off to the Pia offices. It was eerily quiet as he unlatched the door and let himself into the building, which appeared to have not seen much recent use. It was good to be back, he thought to himself as he unclasped his leather armor and stretched out in one of the leather bound armchairs that remained far too large for his gnomish frame. Piles of paperwork lay across the desk and table that dominated the space, obviously in violation of the security protocols that had so carefully been laid out before his departure to the outer settlements. "Pitiful", he muttered as he started flipping through a large stack, each document having a red stamp marking them as classified information.
Nothing of interest aside from the personnel dockets caught his eyes as he resorted and filed the paperwork away over the next few hours, the windows turning from blue to red as the night began to set over the city. He donned his blue colored leather armor and applied a fresh coating of toxin to his twin daggers, a special variety of lethal poison that both paralyzed the victims nervous system and removed the sensation of pain. It was sadly ironic that while working for the church which so highly praised mercy as a virtue, the most mercy he was often able to show was a painless death.
As he stepped out onto the steps and jerked the door behind him, it settled in that he was home, or at least as much home as he had ever known. The barely discernible grin on his lips quickly faded as he recalled what had brought him back to this place, the trio of severed heads that needed to be delivered to the Stormwind guard for identification. It was hardly a guess that life here would likely become dark just as the sky had in his time freshening up the office. He quietly made a mental note to send off recall orders for every available member of the order, reinforcements would be needed. This was not a time for reminiscing or pleasure, it was a strict code of discipline and honor which was needed now, and for that his boots retraced their steps of old to the foot of the cathedral. The Silent Guard had returned.
Once he dropped off the bike at the shop in Old Town he took a small detour to grab some lunch, then wandered off to the Pia offices. It was eerily quiet as he unlatched the door and let himself into the building, which appeared to have not seen much recent use. It was good to be back, he thought to himself as he unclasped his leather armor and stretched out in one of the leather bound armchairs that remained far too large for his gnomish frame. Piles of paperwork lay across the desk and table that dominated the space, obviously in violation of the security protocols that had so carefully been laid out before his departure to the outer settlements. "Pitiful", he muttered as he started flipping through a large stack, each document having a red stamp marking them as classified information.
Nothing of interest aside from the personnel dockets caught his eyes as he resorted and filed the paperwork away over the next few hours, the windows turning from blue to red as the night began to set over the city. He donned his blue colored leather armor and applied a fresh coating of toxin to his twin daggers, a special variety of lethal poison that both paralyzed the victims nervous system and removed the sensation of pain. It was sadly ironic that while working for the church which so highly praised mercy as a virtue, the most mercy he was often able to show was a painless death.
As he stepped out onto the steps and jerked the door behind him, it settled in that he was home, or at least as much home as he had ever known. The barely discernible grin on his lips quickly faded as he recalled what had brought him back to this place, the trio of severed heads that needed to be delivered to the Stormwind guard for identification. It was hardly a guess that life here would likely become dark just as the sky had in his time freshening up the office. He quietly made a mental note to send off recall orders for every available member of the order, reinforcements would be needed. This was not a time for reminiscing or pleasure, it was a strict code of discipline and honor which was needed now, and for that his boots retraced their steps of old to the foot of the cathedral. The Silent Guard had returned.
