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Mithara eyed the WANTED poster with a frown. Sputterspark. At her back, the large hydra hissed softly, jaws snapping in agitation, picking up immediately on her master's tension. She whistled softly. "For information," the huntress muttered. "Light the Alliance is useless." Surely capture on its own was better than just information. She glanced back, looking at the hydra's scaled blue heads, focusing on the middle one. "Well Moxie, what do ya think? Worth it?"

The beast blinked three sets of eyes at her, each fierce and cold. The left snapped its jaws with a loud clash, earning a cross hiss from the right. Mithara sighed at the creature. "Fine, fine. But who to talk to first?" She considered the list of names from the other posters. Obviously, the one that hates her the most.

Time to go see the Battlelord.

(well because Cail did the thing with the post and the stuff below me >> Editing it back in)

Kord let out a quiet oath as he turned for the...well his aide wasn't quite sure how many times it had been...and paced back down the length of the meeting room.

"Sir...?"

When he had took this job it had simply been to make sure orders were out on time and that there were no mix-ups with the payments. It had been a nice job, even when he had learned the man he worked for had a habit of becoming a stone drake. It was this latter bit that caused his current hesitation, working for a man-drake thing was one thing, working for one that was agitated was an experience he was quite positive he did not want. Still...a job was a job.

That in mind he cleared his throat again "Sir."

Kord finally paused and stared at the man. His eyes were doing it again, that unblinking glow thing.,,it was never a good sign. The aide took a step back and motioned to the note that was the source of the agitation. "Should I pen a response?"

Kord simply continued to stare at him, the man got the distinct impression that were this a different time and place he would find himself suddenly on the menu. No, no he definitely needed to investigate his contract after this.

Finally Kord turned away to stare at the fire as he addressed his aide "No, ask the stable master to rouse Shade, I will have need of him.

Never had the man been so happy to find himself smelling manure.

Back in the main hall Kord let out another oath and turned to head into his office. Once there he pulled free ink and paper then began to write.

~

Ketlan,

By the time you get this you will most likely have heard why I am writing it. As things currently stand Arlston is accused of Genevra's murder and is on the run.

Even were she not family he is still one of mine, my responsibility. We've known for some time he was a loose cannon but chose to look the other way because he was our loose cannon, that stops now before anyone else is hurt.

I do not know how long this will take, but I hope it will be short thanks to precautions taken in the past. Until I return my aide has been given instructions on how to handle deals set in place as well as a writ to allow him to speak on my behalf. If any issues arise I trust he will handle them.

I have no doubt you will be upset I did not wake you before I left, but I was afraid had I done so you would insist on coming with me. This wasn't something I could allow, as we've discussed in the past Dallin needs at least one of us so I will not chance placing both in danger.

Give my apologies to Min, I have disabled and locked the tracking of my stone and Arlston's. As soon as I return I will unlock them again,

Love,
Kord

P.S. Should anyone find him before I do, he is to be held in a secure ward and I am to be contacted.
~

Placing his quill back in the well Kord let out a quiet sigh. This was not how he had planned for his night to go.

~

A short time later two figures rose into the sky before simply vanishing into the shadow itself.

The hunt was on.

Around the alliance cities shadowy figures quietly placed a notice on the message boards before vanishing again

"Wanted: Arlston Cross

Cross stands accused of the murder of Genevra Stoneheardt and Treason against his order.

A reward of 10,000 gold is being offered for any information leading to his detention and delivery.

Should you have any knowledge of his whereabouts please report them to Kordrion Stoneheardt, care of Ketlan Stoneheardt.

It would be advised to not approach the subject in question as dead men tell no tales."

((Again, sorry. Though this post relates, it was more reactionary instead of progressive and so it felt like it didn't belong. I moved it to it's own posting here: http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/18300010026))
[edit]

07/01/2015 12:00 AMPosted by Kordrion

(well because Cail did the thing with the post and the stuff below me >> Editing it back in)

((Yikes! Sorry. I didn't know I was suppose to wait D: All apologies!))

07/01/2015 12:26 AMPosted by Caileanmor

((Again, sorry. Though this post relates, it was more reactionary instead of progressive and so it felt like it didn't belong. I move it to it's own posting here: http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/18300010026))

07/01/2015 12:00 AMPosted by Kordrion

(well because Cail did the thing with the post and the stuff below me >> Editing it back in)

((Yikes! Sorry. I didn't know I was suppose to wait D: All apologies!))

(To be fair I didn't know either so erred on the side of caution :P Also progression in a story is subjective! Telling a side, even a minor one, builds the story!

Min tossed her bag in a dusty corner of the ward room. Weeks of fruitless research was making her irritable. She'd skipped over Stormwind entirely in her haste to get back. She'd already been in a string of colorful phrases and descriptions that would make the Prophet blush when the readout blinked at her faintly. Two stones were marked as 'offline'. That didn't make any sense at all. Granted, they could use a few new spare parts to spiff the system up a bit, but there was no way it would simply lose two Terrans.

She ran down the list to see who was accounted for. Her palm slammed on the panel of crystal that displayed the information. "NO!" Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.... Kord and Arls were totally off the grid. Her heart fluttered somewhere between panicked terror and fury. She'd sworn she wouldn't lose a single one, she'd made it her oath to the order that no Terrans would be left without help and a way home.

Without a second thought, Minnu tore up the stairs into the main keep, startling poor Truk in the kitchen as she took the shortest route she knew to Kord and Ket's rooms. "KETLAN!" She said it just loud enough to be heard without waking the sleeping child inside. The draenei knocked lightly. No time for the formal Knight-Majors now, not that Min had ever put much stock in formality. "Ketlan, we have a really, really big problem."

She sat back in the chair, pleasantly surprised at the news that Marennia brought to her. The word had gone out all over Stormwind and the Alliance of the action committed by Arlston Cross...she could hardly believe it. After all the running and hiding, and all the people who swore to the fool's defense, it had happened...

Genevra Stoneheardt was dead!

And yet, she had cause for suspicion. Cross was known as the loyal right hand of Genevra's offspring. "You are absolutely certain of this, Captain?"

"That's what the notices around Stormwind have been saying. Kordrion Stoneheardt is offering a ten thousand gold bounty for him, double what Orwyn wants for me." The gnome guessed what she was thinking. "If it is a ploy, it's a damn good one...but I saw the carnage. He took her head himself. If he can reach Genevra, he can reach anyone - possibly even Orwyn himself. The smug paper-pusher is getting married soon, is the word on the street. I think we have a potential prospect."

"I agree, but what if this does turns out to be a feint? Cross is not exactly easy to kill. If he were, he would have been dead the moment he committed the act." She tapped her finger thoughtfully on her chin. "No sign of the child since they fled the house?"

"None."

"Hm." She was silent for a moment, considering. "Go to our...friend in Darkshire, Captain. The plan I had intended for him has changed...now I wish him to act as our messenger, to find Master Cross. We have work for him to do...if he truly wishes to prove his loyalty to the Alliance."

Whether she meant Arlston or the chosen messenger, Marennia was not sure.

As the moon shone it's almost ethereal light through the trees, Arlston Cross carefully picked his way through the trees of Elwynn, making for a destination only he knew. At this time of night, he was a wraith, moving like oil on water from shadow to shadow, the strange man was an odd sight for the brief flashes he was visible.

He was devoid of any tabard, his left arm's armor caked with dried blood from the gash on his shoulder that Genevra's bodyguard, Noikona Momlir had left in her futile struggle. She had not been the target, and a professional minimizes collateral damage after all.

No, the target had been taken care of. Her head, and proof of demise safely stuffed in the bag that hung from his clenched right fist. It swung at his side, the bottom soaked through with the last lifeblood of a woman whom he had thought his friend. No, she was a traitor, from her own mouth and written by her own hand.

No one had spent as much time as he had in the Horde's strongholds, their cities and towns. Few knew the depths of their monstrous behavior and barbarism as well as he. The treaty he could live with, buy time to rebuild what had been lost in the Cataclysm's blitzkrieg. Actively inviting in the enemy? Sharing with them secrets that got good men killed? That was treason in Arlston's eyes.

So he had made a logical choice. Take one life, to save a hundred, a thousand. He would give these foolish "Remembrists" their quarry, sate their insipid an pointless bloodlust, and he would end the backstabbing of Genevra in one swoop. As the woman's head bounced against his thigh due to his stepping over a root, he paused. He did not enjoy what he had done, but it was necessary, it was evil, but the evil that would have resulted had he not intervened would be worse. Kordrion would never understand, as he was a boy of emotion and bias. He was not disposed to the objective view of watching. Setting down his ill gotten prize, he unslung his backpack and opened the top flap. Rummaging around to pull out his Terra Incognita tabard, he gazed down at the white diamond for a moment.

Exactly three minutes, forty seven seconds later, he resumed his steady walk into the depths of the woods. Leaving behind a Terran tabard, pinned to the tree with a throwing blade, with one sentence scratched into the bark above it.

If you come for me, you'd best fight for keeps.

Noikona woke in the middle of the night cold and shaky. Blood caked her pillow and covered the side of her face. Her hand shook as she felt for the source. She was bleeding from her ear. She clenched her jaw as she rose. Across the room she saw where Calent slept. If she was actually sleeping, in a way Noikona doubted it. The emotions that must be tormenting her would be great in deed. She tried to walk, but it was too difficult, she didn’t know how long she actually had. This had never happened before. She had never broken her word and her word was her life. She had given Genevra her oath that she wouldn’t let any injury to come to her. He curse demanded her life in exchange for such a violation. Fear crept through her.

She shook her head sadly, she didn’t want to die. Too many things had to be done. Her eyes narrowed in thought as a chance to thwart the inevitable entered her mind. She knew what she could do and just maybe events would change her fate. Quietly she spoke the magical words in her native tongue, the words that would take her to her lair. There she would place herself in stasis and maybe one day walk the world again.

Sekhesmet stood on a ridge on the western edge of Stormshield, staring across the Barrier Sea towards the distant shore of the Tanaan Jungle; from here, he could see the broken ruin of the Dark Portal, remembering when the Iron Horde had come through it and had their invasion checked in the Blasted Lands...and remembering when he had joined the Alliance armies coming through it to that place. Tanaan was a true place of evil now, reminding him strongly of the Felwood in Kalimdor, or how Shadowmoon Valley appeared in Outland.

Since largely recovering from the attempted assassination here more than a week ago, Sekhesmet had made the decision to wear Stormwind's armor and colors into battle, in his capacity as a "shadow-chaplain" to the troops, offering the Light's blessings to the men, and the fatal embrace of the darkness to the Horde. He had trained in the use of armor more than twenty years earlier, when he thought he might be called to be a paladin - for even at his age at the time, being in his sixties, he had been a strong and vigorous man, as he was now. The war had ended not long after, of course...and it had been in the years of peace that he had succumbed to decrepitude, beginning to truly feel his age...and then he had died, and it had all spiraled out of control from there.

Fate is whimsical, he mused.

Alone with land, sea, and sky, Sekhesmet considered what Genevra had asked of him. She had wanted to subject him to a confessional, for him to admit all of his crimes in his "former guise" to her personally, to prove his desire for repentance. At first, he had been insulted by the idea, wondering just how many more hoops he had to jump through to prove his sincerity - and wondered if she was pulling pages out of his book, planning to use shadow powers to dig into his mind. He knew she could, after all. But then he wondered, as the days passed, if that was really so much to ask. He had given her enough grief in his years in the service of Sylvanas.

Maybe he would arrange to meet with her tonight, after the sermon...

Calent lay awake, she had slipped in and out of consciousness through the night, but it would have been generous to refer to the fitful state she was in as 'sleep'. A thousand years ago, a million miles away, and yet two heartbeats ago, her entire world had been turned upside down. While she attended tavern night in booty bay, she had been seized with a sensation of rage, terror, and pain, then blackness. She had barely managed to speak a few rushed words to Zaranae before leaving the tavern, the rest was a blur. Utilizing her bond with Noikona, she had found her unconscious and grievously wounded. Just upstairs she had found the headless body of Genevra Stoneheardt. This was shocking enough, but when she heard who was responsible...

Arlston Cross.

Her heart thudded in her chest. It was as if the floor had fallen out from under her. He wouldn't have... What reason must he have... Gods, there had to be a reason... He would never... What happened here??? Gods... She had to find him.

She lost her lunch. Twice.

Back in the present, she lay in a bed, sharing a room with Noikona Momlir. The other woman was hellbent on killing Arlston for his crime, but had grudgingly agreed to help Calent find him so that she could hear the truth from his own lips. The sergeant listened as Noikona stirred. She heard words in a language she did not understand, and then silence. When finally she rose to look, Noikona was gone, the only traces of her were a note, a sword, and Arlston's dagger.

Calent sat up, abandoning any illusions she had about getting more sleep. Her stomach still quailed at sudden movements. She quickly read the note and sighed. It looked like she would be continuing her search alone.

Genevra awoke the next day in the safe-house, absently she rubbed her neck before reaching up to rub her temples, her memories were murky at best. She remembered the tea, the conversation with Arlston, and the paralyzing feeling as it crept through her extremities and into her mind.

She sat up and looked around the small room, closing her eyes and rubbing her head temples again. Flashes of the night came back to her. Hearthstone communications, explanations. And the shadow, it was there, and then it was gone.

She inhaled sharply and looked down at the bracers that she had worn since taking her oath as Paladin. She ran her hand over one and then the other, something was missing. Her brow knitted in curiosity but it would not settle on an answer.

"Rely on me."

Trust. She had to give it to him, trust that Arlston knew what he was doing, trust that no one else would die or be attacked because the Remembrists would think that she was gone. And then her thoughts drifted to the woman who took her place.

Kordrion had returned earlier in the day with food and provisions, books to sate her mind, and supplies to write if she needed. But she couldn't pen any letters, not yet, not until the Red Mage and Marennia were brought to justice.

With a sigh she reached for one of the books, "A Treatise on War." She laughed, "Always the soldier." She said to herself before she cracked open the spine and started to read. The hours were going to drag.

((A little meeting between Cail and "the Red Mage"...))

Cail was left to organize Genevra's office in the Cathedral, to see if Conclave had any managerial system at all...and was about to depart when he heard laughing from outside the room. "Such a long face, Doctor."

Cail peered out of the office to see an average-heighted human female in a red robe, blue eyes twinkling from beneath the hood. "I see no cause for mourning here."

The elderly gnome squinted a glare. "Do I know you?"

"A traitor to the Alliance has been executed by lawful rising of the people!" the Red Mage continued, as if he had not spoken. "This is a cause for celebration...but of course, you do not feel that way, do you, Dr. Mahlr'd?" She smiled coldly.

Cail was silent as his mind tried to piece things together...he looked up at her suddenly. "You... you authored.... those pamphlets." The gnome's anger rose. "Didn't you?"

"No," she replied, "but I was a guiding influence behind them, yes. You think I'm stupid enough to write these myself? I am aware of how these things can be traced by ink analysis and aura-reading."

"Hmm..." Cail leaned heavily on his staff, grumbling. "That may be, but I recognize the madness behind those words. You may as well have authored them yourself."

"If it makes you feel any better," she said dismissively. "But no matter."

His breathing became heavy. "What do you want of me? To taunt an old gnome? Genevra was a dear friend. She was family. You stole that light from our lives."

"I have come to deliver an ultimatum. Refuse me, and I will destroy everything you hold dear. And if you doubt my ability to do so, ask Genevra...oh wait. You can't." She laughed insanely.

"Speak, snake," Cail replied, sighing angrily.

"Deliver Velenkayn and Eldred Valmy to face the justice of the loyal citizens of the Alliance, for collaboration with traitors and Horde officers. Do so, and I will spare your Conclave." Her mocking smile faded, and her expression was utterly malevolent. "Refuse, and I will burn it to the ground, and make you suffer watching before I let you die."

She channeled a teleportation spell. "You have one week. Farewell, Doctor..." Then, without another word, she was gone.

((Typed out in the night, edited the next morning, it's just too long to post here completely so it's here in it's own thread. This is becoming a pattern of mine :/ http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/18300170479?page=1#1))

((Jumping in, hope ya'all don't mind))

The quiet halls of the Cathedral, with its vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows normally served to calm Zephilyn. The candles, the quiet murmurings of prayer normally helped her to focus, to remember her purpose. Tonight, they did nothing of the sort. They reminded her of a kind soul taken. Precisely because she was tolerant and forgiving.

A far better paladin than I. She frowned at the thought, true though it was. When she was a newly appointed Knight, it was Genevra who had taken a moment to counsel her. When she doubted her readiness for the rights and responsibilities of command, it was Lady Genevra who had helped her come to grips with them. Zephilyn owed her.

And now she’s gone, and I wasn’t here to do a damn thing about it. Orwyn better come clean with the suspect. The dark rage boiled more quickly in her heart. Whoever did this will pay. This cannot go unchallenged.

She stood quickly to leave. There had to be something she could do besides brood in the cathedral. As she turned quickly on her hoof to stalk off, a voice whispered in her ear, “Do you do this for her? Or yourself.” She whirled at the sound, surprised… and found no one behind her. The worshippers were still seated in their pews, the altar boys still tending to candles and incense.

They’re right. Revenge is not what she’d want. Justice. Chastened and more than a little unnerved, the Draenei strode deliberately from the Cathedral and down the steps. Her thoughts lingered on the last sermon she had attended… about precisely the topic of revenge. Zephilyn shook her head. The best way to honor Lady Genevra would be to find Orwyn’s suspect and bring them for trial, as much as she’d prefer a more simple solution.

She walked the streets of Stormwind as her mind turned over the problem. She nearly walked smack into the message board. At the bottom of the board, stained by recent rain, read a message.

“Wanted: Arlston Cross

Cross stands accused of the murder of Genevra Stoneheardt and Treason against his order.

A reward of 10,000 gold is being offered for any information leading to his detention and delivery.

Should you have any knowledge of his whereabouts please report them to Kordrion Stoneheardt, care of Ketlan Stoneheardt.

It would be advised to not approach the subject in question as dead men tell no tales.”

A smile played upon her lips. She knew Arlston by reputation only. A skilled blade, and if his own order believed him to be the killer… well, that must be the truth. She now knew the who, the where would be the appropriate question.

Velenkayn returned from Karabor the day after Mithara had gone to see him there, and found two worgen standing in the great hall waiting for him. One was Eldred Valmy, the keep's castellan. The other... "Eidan?"

"You seem to be doing well for someone who had to get put back together like a doll with a ripped seam," Eidan Zherron said with a grin. He gently grasped Velenkayn's arm in greeting. "The air back home is heavy."

"I can imagine. What brings you here?"

"Ducky has taken charge of Conclave affairs for the time being, hoping to find some semblance of organization in the craziness Genevra oversaw. But he had a visitor last night. Our 'Red Mage'. She's issued an ultimatum: You two get turned over to her lot for 'justice', and the rest of the bunch is spared. Otherwise, she destroys everything."

"This witch has already helped take Genevra from us," Valmy said bitterly. "Hasn't she done enough?"

"She's just getting started, warlock," Zherron said curtly, with emphasis on that last word. "I told Ducky I'd see if I couldn't get you there to meet with him, figure all of this out."

Velenkayn shook his head. "No."

"What?" The druid stared at him in shock. "For pity's sake, why?"

"There is a war going on here, in case you've forgotten while hiding in the wilds, Eidan," the Battlelord said coldly, thinking on what he had said to Mithara. "Azeroth is not my concern anymore, for I have no reason to ever return to it." Now, even Valmy was looking at him in surprise.

Zherron was outraged. "Damn you, Velenkayn! You're doing this again? It wasn't enough you said the same thing while Genevra was alive, you're going back to it now that she's dead?"

"What do you care of what happened to her?" Velenkayn snapped right back at him. "Where were you when these people attacked Lord Valmy? Where were you when this 'Red Mage' threatened Genevra and her family? Where were you when Marennia Sputterspark joined a mob to burn her house to the ground, and nearly cut me in half? Where were --"

"Enough!" Zherron's amber eyes flashed with fire. "I do not need it rubbed in my face that my...instincts took hold in me and took me away from everything, only to find everything left in ruins! But how does that excuse a man too afraid to leave his fortress walls to even fight the war he wants to abandon us all for? For all the good it did you, you soulless coward!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Valmy stepped between them, sword in one hand pointed at Zherron, a ball of fel-fire hovering above his other hand, aimed for Velenkayn. "We cannot afford this, and you both know it." He looked at Velenkayn, contempt in his gaze. "I will agree with him on one thing, however. You are a coward. Abandoning Azeroth for this...fantasy? Because make no mistake, that is all this is. An effort to live in the past, when you know damn well you can't. Because there is someone with your name and your face who does. He belongs here. You don't."

"That's as may be, but --"

"I'm not finished!" Valmy snapped. "You also brought up a point. Yes, there is a war here, and we are committed. But it is not for your dream of living on an intact, living Draenor. Garrosh has made his mark here with the altering of the timeline...it is our duty to mitigate the damage, and prevent this madness from once again threatening Azeroth, or any other worlds. Or have you forgotten the Iron Horde marching through the Dark Portal?"

"You know I haven't."

"Then act like you haven't. It's not just the draenei in this war. You're part of the Alliance, Velenkayn. So be part of the Alliance." He glanced over at Zherron, then back at Velenkayn. "And part of our little bunch, for that matter. You wear Genevra's colors on your cloak. The poor bugger forced to fill her shoes has asked for your help. Who the hell do you think you are to deny him that?"

Velenkayn had no answer.

A small bird flitted around the Cathedral in Stormwind, observing the people coming and going from a distance. At times she dared to fly down closer, a few strangers even patted her when she perched on the short wall around the gazebo area. The names mentioned, the ties to other names she knew, names she heard whether from Kandri, Ciellia, or Kaietsu, it no longer mattered.

Meena knew her time had come to leave the safety granted to her within the Lluchduu Ocheliad's walls and knew - through Ciellia - of places that she could nurture her curiosity safely. She never expected to view such events, to read those posted notices. A friend from many years ago spoke about Arlston once or twice... Genevra was a name she knew from Ciellia. A person her friend insisted was the opposite of the stereotypes her husband saw the humans for.

From the Cathedral she followed Caileanmor from a distance and stood a silent watch outside of the abbey. He had been in Genevra's office at the Cathedral and seemed a friend, unlike the "Rememberists". Sims, the mechanical squirrel caught her eye and she followed the creature inside, only to stop short of archives. Meena knew waiting until sunlight would yield better results than creeping in the darkness.

Late the following morning Cail was roused out of bed by a most annoying alarm.

SIMS sat perched on the corner of the old gnome's desktop. It had tried other methods to rouse him but had fail, so it's final resort was to simple sit there beeping long-loud tones at a steady rhythm. For some strange reason the mechanical squirrel, for all its intelligence, also failed to predicted the old gnome's nimble retort.

A fluffy white pillow shot from the bed, sweeping SIMS cleanly off the desktop. Cail rolled himself up to sit at the side of his bed. Tired eyes that had finally seen descent sleep blinked around the room. A groggy old voice croaked. "I'm up....I'm up." A strong yawn followed. A belly scratch. "What time is it?"

SIMS scurried back atop his post on the corner of his desktop, beeping a sequence of low tones denoting annoyance.

"Serves you right." Cail torqued his head to one side eliciting a solid pop from his stiff neck. SIMS proceeded to answer his question, following with a review of the day's itinerary. At hearing the first thing on his list he frowned with a tired squint. Palms came up to rub his still sleepy eyes.

"Really? That's today?" SIMS corrected him. "In an hour?!" Cail grumbled as he stood and stretched. "Why the blazes scheduled an interview this early in the morning?" SIMS answered. "Me? Really? Oh I suppose it isn't all that early now is it." A final stretch seemed to do the trick. He was not up on his feet, shuffling about his office. The old gnome patted SIMS on the head as he passed. "Thank you Sims. I'd be lost without you."

SIMS intoned his acknowledgement.

At a rather steady pace the old gnome cleaned up, changed into a clean set of silvery-white robes of a similar style to what he'd always been wearing of late. Passing a quick comb through his ever unruly beard, he set his cape and markings of Conclave, his shoulder pads, and finally his hood which he pushed back since he was indoors.

At last he meandered over to his pack, filled with Genevra's paperwork and set off to his first appointment, taking up his tall silvery wing topped staff as support. Today he would be back and forth between Genevra's offices at the abbey and her space in the cathedral. As he shuffled down the long corridor his mind drifted to various energy drinks he might consume...

//Appointments.ToDo-g000041;
//initiateroutine.schedule-list;
1-interview candidates for personal Guardian@1000hours
2-leadership meeting:topic:continued threat of Red Mage@1130hours
3-consult about Genevra's services@1230hours
...

((little bit more to follow, posted here http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/18300170479?page=1#5 ))

Posted in Stormwind, Ironforge, and towns within the kingdoms:

WANTED:

Arlston Cross

(a sketch of his face and profile follow)

For Assault and Murder

Reward: 12,000 gold for information leading to his arrest and conviction.

He should be considered armed and dangerous. Report sightings of him to the Stormwind Watch immediately

Posted by order of Lt. Commander Orwyn, Stormwind Watch

07/03/2015 09:13 AMPosted by Orwyn

WANTED:

Arlston Cross

(a sketch of his face and profile follow)

For Assault and Murder

Reward: 12,000 gold for information leading to his arrest and conviction.

He should be considered armed and dangerous. Report sightings of him to the Stormwind Watch immediately

The grizzled old dwarf read the notice that had come across his desk along with the stack of other bits of mail, orders, statements, reports, and files upon files. Mentally pushing the rest aside, he looked over the notice again, very carefully. Two thick fingers smoothed down his equally thick white mustache as he pondered.

"Sadwhistle!" Odin barked in his nearly trademarked gruff-graveled tone. A rather morose gnome peeked his head into the office space. "Yes sir?" He asked lethargically. His S's whistling slightly as she spoke.

"Send'a coorier from the guard over tae the Stormwind Watch."

"Yes sir." The gnome practically groaned, as if the thought was just too much pressure to bare.
"What is he taking?"

"No' taking. Bringing back. I need'm tae gather infermation on this suspect, Arlston Cross. Wha'ever details on the case tha' they can spare'me as well." His meaty hand reached for his half-filled mug of stout as he read over the notice again. This matter interested him greatly for more than a few reasons.

"Yes sir. I've got it." The gnome paused. "Where is he going, again?"

Odin sighed, holding his composure. "Stormwind Watch. I need tha' infermation as soon as possible. Scratch tha'. As soon as yesterday."

The lethargic gnome bobbed his head. "Yes sir. I got it. Uh..." He paused again. "Where is the Stormwind Watch located, again?"

Odin's mug practically slipped from his grasp. He can't be serious. The grizzled old dwarf inhaled deeply for composure. "In. Stormwind City." He stated through gritted teeth.

The gnome bobbed his head again, slower this time. "Oh. Okay. I got ya." He paused. "Uh..."

"OH FER CRYIN' OUT LOUD!" Odin exploded. He thoughtlessly tossed his mug of lager to one side, the notice to the other as stood abruptly to his feet. Grabbing up his forest green mountaineer's cloak, Odin stormed out of the office. "I'LL TAKE CARE OF IT ME SELF!"

Dobrick Sadwhistle stood beside the office door and watched pathetically as his boss, Commander Odin Whitebeard, stormed down the stone stairway and out the front door of their post offices in Ironforge.

"Oh. Okay." He said lethargically to himself. "I'll just... clean that up... I guess."