World of Warcraft®

FOR GENERAL DISTRIBUTION

To all Members of the Horde Races


This serves as an official notice from the Stormwind Watch. Whereas criminal acts victimize the members of all races, depriving good citizens of their property, health, and life, and undermine the very foundation of a peaceful and prosperous society, the Watch respectfully requests the assistance of the law-abiding individuals composing the vast majority of the Horde in apprehending pernicious and evil violators of the law. In a show of our good faith, the Watch makes the following guarantees:

1. A reward of 500 gold coins will be paid for information leading to the arrest or termination by the Stormwind Watch of the following dangerous wanted criminals:

Dreejin
Aziel
Tyrexus Darkheart

2. A reward of 200 gold will be paid for information leading to the arrest or termination by the Stormwind Watch of any other identified member of Modas il Toralor and/or the Black Hand Society.

3. A reward of 100 gold will be paid for information leading to the arrest or termination by any official Horde law enforcement agency of any identified member of Modas il Toralor and/or the Black Hand Society.

4. A reward of 100 gold will be paid for information leading to the arrest by any official law enforcement agency of any other identified criminal wanted by the Stormwind Watch.

It goes without saying that the desire to protect your families, homes, and businesses is incentive enough to wish to help bring these criminals to justice. The reward should therefore be seen as merely an expression of the Watch's gratitude for the effort and time spent on gathering and submitting the information. Individuals submitting information are not required to accept any financial award, if that is their preference.

Information may be submitted anonymously, and payments may be made anonymously. Information from anonymous individuals must be set down on paper (printed or written words) with a identification number of two numbers and a letter chosen by the individual. Rewards may be collected at any bank in a neutral city. The banks will be notified of any identification numbers linked to listed items 1, 2, 3, and 4. Those who have submitted information anonymously will be able to check for a potential reward by announcing their identification number at the bank. If the number matches one from the banks' list, the individual will be paid.


As a further indication of our desire to work with members of the Horde and their law-enforcements agencies to maintain law and order, the Watch also hereby guarantees that any individual of the Horde races who is wanted solely by a Horde law enforcement agency and found within the Kingdom of Stormwind will immediately be extradited to the custody of the aforementioned Horde law-enforcement agency. An official written request to the Watch will serve as notice of the requested extradition.

The Stormwind Watch looks forward to a productive collaboration with members of the Horde to ensure justice is done in all cases of criminal aggression against the respectable and law-abiding citizens of our societies.


((OOC Note: Similar notices for unaligned individuals and Alliance citizens will be posted in neutral cities and across Alliance territory, respectively.))

<A note ends up in the Razortalon's mailbox soon after the Watch's notice is sent out.>

With your permission, any information regarding our target will be forwarded to this agency. Alcohol and now gold for your troubles.

~L.S.

P.S. Someone wants you dead. If we meet, it'll have to be on neutral territory.

<Accompanying the note is a rolled-up copy of the Watch's notice, as well a Wanted poster depicting Arothand. Some enterprising young artist has given him demon horns.>

((Hm, question. If it's a group who brings in the information, does the gold get split? Or does the full reward go to each person in the group?))

The human male spun, hanging from his ankles in the dungeons of the Modas il Toralar. The demonic rune carved in his chest oozed with blood, sliding down his upside chest and onto his face, before dripping into an elaborate basin underneath him. Malthaes circled him, a cold smile on his face, sword in one hand and a piece of parchment in another.

"Please...no more..." the man wheezed. The man was sure to be disoriented, dizzy, faint from being upside down and bleeding out. But Malthaes spared no thought to the man's condition. Rather, he held up the piece of parchment.

"So the Alliance police express so much arrogance that they can bribe the Horde into in-fighting? That their gold is so precious and desirable, that we would eat each other just for profit?"

The man bumbled a response, something about stumbling upon the paper in Booty Bay, but Malthaes didn't care. He shoved the piece of parchment into the man's face.

"You're going to deliver a message for me. From your mouth to theirs. They can play their condescending games for profit. Just know that we will not be playing by their rules." With a sneer, Malthaes swung his sword. The head came off easily, blood pouring into the basin. With a thunk and a few thuds, the head came to a rest a few feet away. Malthaes took a deep breath, folded the piece of parchment, and stooped next to the head. He opened the mouth, pressed the parchment lightly between the teeth. He looked up at the headless body, blood overflowing the basin.

"Waste not, want not," he said. He would use the blood later for some magical experimentation. "Shame I can't keep the head...but the price we pay for postage is steep."

He set the head on his desk, blood puddling underneath it, and he went about searching for a box. He'd have to send the box through the Nether with his imp. It would be a delight to have the AAMS deliver, but they cared too much about neutrality.

***

It took the imp several tries in and out of the Nether before finally finding the office of the Stormwind Watch. Piztal delivered the box to their doorstep before taking an arrow to the head by one of the guards. He cursed all the way back into the Nether, but he was sure Malthaes would summon him back. Probably to die again.

As he usually did, Orwyn couldn't help but recoil a bit as his nose and eyes were assailed by the medical lab's collection of chemical odors. Half-heartedly waving his hand to clear the air in front of his face, he walked to where the Watch's chief medical officer, Sergeant Talrathis, had the severed head displayed in a state of partial disassembly on his dissection table.

Orwyn approached the testy night elf with the forced sense of humor he assumed specifically for Talrathis' benefit. "Something new everyday, eh Sergeant?"

Talrathis stiffly replied, "This is the sixth severed head I have dissected since I arrived here, sir."

"Ah, well, how about, 'practice makes perfect then'?" Orwyn chuckled.

Talrathis narrows his eyes. "Would you care to actually hear about the head, sir?"

Orwyn grinned. "By all means, Sergeant."

Talrathis assumed a tone and air, not unfamiliar to him, of a person wearily attempting to explain advanced biology to a kindergarten student of below-average intelligence.

"The victim is a human male, approximately 35 years of age. Brown hair, brown eyes, a full set of slightly stained teeth. No distinguishing characteristics. Assuming average proportions for a human male, I believe he was approximately six feet tall, weighing 180 pounds. I have determined the cause of death to be decapitation via a sharp straight blade. What is most interesting about this particular head is that the victim was hanging upside down at the time of the decapitation, and had sustained prior injuries resulting in a loss of blood."

Orwyn looked interested. "How do you figure?"

Talrathis continued, "the man was in the position long enough for blood to trickle down his face in these rivulets here.." Talrathis pointed at several bloody streaks, "which began to congeal in spots even before the decapitation. Also, the victim has slight traces of blood in his nasal passages. They are not from internal damage to the nose, so I believe it conclusively indicates that he inhaled a small amount of his own blood as it flowed in close proximity to his nostrils. In addition, the skin shows several small areas of slight bruised discoloration that would not be inconsistent with the head falling and striking a hard surface."

"Very interesting," observed Orwyn. "The murderer put an unusual amount of effort into this."

"It does indicate a certain amount of sadism, sir," Talrathis replied. "Perhaps a warlock was involved, as the head was delivered by an imp."

"Perhaps. It's telling, too, that the notice was folded instead of angrily wedged into his mouth. What else, Sergeant?"

"Some smudged finger imprints in the blood on the head sir. I have summoned someone from the technical lab to see if they can do anything with them." Talrathis pointed near the mouth.

Orwyn leaned in to look. "Hmm...doubtful whether we could get a good print. Still...they look to be slender fingers. No indications of fur or any loose hair stuck in the blood...so all together it rules out everything except elves, humans, and the undead. If we assume it's Horde, which is reasonable considering the included notice, that narrows it further to blood elves or undead. Then you add in decapitation, probable torture...the familiar 'Modas' operandi, eh Sergeant?" Orwyn winked at Talrathis.

Talrathis gave Orwyn a look that seemed to indicate a desire that Orwyn's head would be next up on the table.

Orwyn laughed. "Sergeant, if you don't learn to lighten up, this job will drive you to the Home for the Mentally Interesting ahead of me even. All right, well, the flyer is a bit of a puzzle since it was one sent to a neutral city and not Horde territory. We'll look into any possible missing person lead from Booty Bay, Ratchet, etc. I also have the tech lab determining what kind of wood the box is made of and if we can glean any more information about its origin."

Orwyn stepped back and regarded the head with a sad shake if his head. "Poor fellow. It appears we hit another nerve though...and we're going to keep hitting nerves until their whole blighted criminal organization is screaming for mercy - which they'll receive in the same manner as the final blow given to this man."

"I do so love your attempts at analogy, sir," Talrathis said sarcastically.

((Hm, question. If it's a group who brings in the information, does the gold get split? Or does the full reward go to each person in the group?))

((If the group doesn't want to remain anonymous, we could work something out. Otherwise it would have to be split up amongst a group to avoid information scammers claiming to represent a bunch of people.))

((CSI: Stormwind - awesome stuff Orwyn))

"Mercy is for the merciful." It was carved into every bone being dropped by air onto Brill.

Cyrus held the skull of one of them in his hand. The eye sockets still let off a faintly-visible smoke from the attack that had blown away any remnants of a soul in the undead. Looking at it, Cyrus went back over the attack in his mind....


Three Forsaken men had ventured up to Garren's Haunt, chattering back and forth in hushed tones when the fire encircled them. In the trees above them, three black-cloaked Ocheliad warlocks had their hands firmly held in some sort of signs. Green fel-fire had materialized around the roaming Forsaken, encircling them before they could even draw weapons.

For a moment, nothing else happened. The green flames were extremely bright in contrast to the starless night, but one of the undead had gathered up the courage to walk toward this menacing barrier. As he reached out to try and part it, a spike of ice throttled through the fire from the outside. The moment this spike made solid connection with the skull, it splintered violently, utterly destroying the head and most of the shoulders.

The remains slumped to the ground without protest, and the barrier of fire gave way as Cyrus stepped through.

One of the remaining undead was armed with a crude, two-pronged pitchfork. Just when Cyrus was expecting that pitchfork to be an incoming projectile, the other undead broke away at a full sprint toward him. Cyrus was about to strike before he realized how small this undead was. It must have been a child when it was killed.

As the sprawling thing reached Cyrus, its wrist was caught and used to spin him around to face the one that remained. Cyrus, being just under eight foot, seized the back of the small undead's skull with one hand, lifting him up by it.

The flailing dead was staring straight at the armed undead, who had become strangely docile when the small one became involved. Slowly, Cyrus had made the connection. The little one must be some sort of son or relative to the other one.

Could undead even maintain connections they'd had in life? Apparently these two had.

The little one continued flailing wildly, but suddenly stopped, his entire body freezing instantly in a burst of frosty haze. Even frozen solid, an eye was still looking around before Cyrus' hand released him. The frozen body shattered like glass on the ground, leaving the only remaining Forsaken in a rather calmed state. Maybe he was trying to process how he should feel about this.

Whatever the case, Cyrus felt a bit generous in his own way. Jutting out an open palm toward his remaining witness, a distortion in the air between them became evident for just a moment. The lone undead's head snapped back, his weapon falling from his grasp without resistance as its life was blown out by a single spell.

The undead's mouth was hanging wide open in an unheard scream, smoking eyesockets turned skyward as Cyrus approached and the fel-fire dissipated. Taking only a moment to look at what he'd done, Cyrus simply pushed the still-standing corpse over.

"Send them a message," Cyrus instructed the warlocks that still resided in the trees above, and they had done just that.


Far out in front of him, bones from the corpse of that last undead rained down onto Brill. Cyrus dropped the skull onto the ground, kicking it softly to let it roll down the hill he stood on to observe. The message "Mercy is for the merciful" had been carved into each and every bone that now clattered onto rooftops, into stables and onto citizens' heads in the town of undead.

Perhaps this would serve a better warning to the Modas and Black Hand, who had been warned to stop attacking Presidium, Alliance and human settlements alike. With Tyrexus' latest victims, they had failed yet again to heed this warning.

"This is only the beginning" was carved into a bone that had been dropped. With some luck, maybe a Modas member would find that one. The thought brought a grin to Cyrus' face.

' 'Mercy is for the merciful'....and 'This is only the beginning.' ' Fernand frowned tightly, inspecting the bones in Brill's central courtyard. Behind him, the statue of his Majesty, Queen Sylvanas, overlooked the township with stern disapproval. It had only been a matter of time before the Alliance reacted in a similar manner to the Modas il Toralar's methods - first there was this Gilnean patriot Ragefang, then dead orcs marked with black hands, the capture of Grymmbror, and now further attempts at intimidation by killing, judged upon the tiny femur in Fernand's claws, a Forsaken that hadn't reached teenage years in life. Murdering children, essentially.


The aggressiveness of the Alliance was only going to escalate, particularly with the Modas il Toralar exacerbating relations between the Horde and Alliance. It was only to be expected. In fact, it was welcomed. The more extremist pressure placed upon the Horde, the more they would support the Modas il Toralar and its methods, and the stronger the Order would become. With every warcrime or orphaned Horde member, there was a new potential Toralite. The Forsaken man stood, brushed down his black tabard adorned with the golden star of the Modas, and readjusted his tie. Things would become a good deal more interesting in the near future.

Grymm had arrived in Booty Bay his head cloaked. His hands where loosed at the docks, and the hood quickly lifted from his head. It took only a moment to realize where he was. He smiled. Modas had won out again, as it always would. What a shame, he thought, that he did not get to meet Gentyl face to face. Time enough for that later.

" Your things are at the inn. " A goblin dock hand said pointing to the Inn. Grymm nodded.

The walk to the Inn gave Grymm time to think on all the parts in play. Pia, and Gentyl, would not have allowed his release without great pressure. Gentyl will look for a way to even out these accounts. That would be until Grymm's project, that wonderful being he called Pain, would send the entire order of Pia Presidium into a chaos they have never faced. That thought produced a grin over the Orc's dark face. Cyrus also had some play left in all of this he was sure. His role as Pia's outside protector would find a test that will leave him frustrated.

Inside the Inn several eyes turned Grymm's direction. Several spies no doubt, Modas included. The Inn keeper made his way over to the Orc. " Your room is right up stairs, your stuff is waiting."

Later Grymm evaluated the fit of his armor and felt the heft of his weapon. Runic power had returned on the trip to the seaside port. He would take flight and make his way to Modas headquarters. After his debrief Grymm was sure he would take a few days then he would see Pain start the eternal torture of Pia Presidium.

02/21/2012 01:05 PMPosted by Argustus

his Majesty, Queen Sylvanas

HAH! >> ahem...always knew something was off with Sylvanas!

Kunlokku took a glance at the notice and snorted derisively

A measly 200 gold? For my pelt? Been worth more than that before. No matter, at least I won't have to hunt for a while. My prey will come to me.

Thelinna sat with her back straight on the edge of her cushioned seat, with a tea cup in one hand and a copy of the notice in another. She sipped the tea as her yellow eyes looked over the notice to the Horde, noting the names that were listed. Upon seeing her beloved Aziel’s name listed among those who were sought to be brought into Stormwind, the undead elf had ripped the message off of the wall in the Undercity and brought it back with her to the Sanctum. “Now, this will just not do at all. My love has been gone for a year and they wish to take him from me now? I cannot have this.” While she knew he was untouchable, the mere fact that they were implying to get the aid of the Horde to take him away was entirely unacceptable. “Yes, this is completely unacceptable. I am Aziel’s, and it is my duty to make sure they understand that he, and the others of the Modas il Toralar, are untouchable,” she murmured to herself.

Obviously fed up, Thelinna placed the notice on the table in front of her. She took the last sip from her cup of tea, placing the empty cup on the saucer on the table before standing up. Taking the notice, Thelinna began walking away from the sanctum, heading off to her own allotted area. Her office was highly decorated, but she paid no attention to any of that at this point. Her eyes went to the corner, where a gilded cage housed two scantily clad female humans. She looked down to them, revealing a deep frown. “I am going to require one of you right now, I believe.” She looked between the two, nodding to the blond. “Yes, you, come closer.”

The blond woman hesitated, then moved closer to the edge, leaning her forehead against the cage. Thelinna reached in and stroked her cheek with her gloved hand. “There, my dear. I just need you to taste something for me, that is all I require of you for now,” she said in a soft, almost soothing voice. Thelinna turned slightly, walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a small vial of a reddish-black liquid. She poured some into a small glass, turning back and lowering herself to the human woman. “Now, there you go. Drink up, my dear,” she said in the same soothing voice.

The blond human’s hand was shaking as she took the glass, pushing it to her lips. It smelled completely vial, but she seemed to know better than to refuse. She downed the shot of the liquid, dropping the glass as she finished.

“Oh, no, no! You cannot spill that anywhere, you wretched filth! Pick it up!” Thelinna scolded.

The woman’s body continued to tremble as she lowered her hand to pick up the glass, feeling around for the glass. She seemed unable to keep her weight up, collapsing fully on the floor of the cage. The darker haired woman scooted far away from the blond, whimpering as she watched the blond woman’s body go through a fit of convulsions. Thelinna’s eyes narrowed as the body finally laid dead, looking to the darker haired woman. “You there, girl. Pick up the glass and hand it to me,” she demanded.

“N-no, Mistress, please... d-don’t-” The darker haired slave begged.

In irritation, Thelinna shot a small bolt of arcane energy at the slave. She let out a cry of pain, but quickly crawled on top of the other slave’s corpse, grabbing the glass and sticking her hand out of the cage, offering it to the undead elf. Thelinna gave a slight nod. “Good girl,” she murmured under her breath as she turned with the glass, leaving it on the cabinet for one of the other slaves to take and clean.

Taking a key off of her desk, Thelinna returned to the cage, opening it so the body could be removed. “Girl, push her our of the cage.”

Defeated, the darker haired girl pushed the blond out of the cage, silently retreating back to a safe corner. Thelinna ignored her, now focusing on the corpse on her floor.

She summoned some of the guards into her study, directing one of them to cut off the right hand and then to remove the rest of the corpse. After the body was removed and the guards returned, Thelinna had already had the hand wrapped with the flier she had torn down, in a neat box. She glanced up to the guards. “Please, send me the child, if you would.”

It was only moments after the guards left that the very young blood elf came running into her study with a wide grin over her lips. “What do you want? Somethin’ I can do to help?”

Thelinna offered a pleasant smile, nodding in the direction of the box. “You see that, Lynnie?”

Lynnie gave a big nod and a grin.

“I need you to go with Bubbles and see that delivered safely to Stormwind!”

“Stormwind?” The little girl asked, frowning slightly. “Do we got to be sneaky?”

Thelinna gave a nod. “Yes, very sneaky. I need you to take it to the Stormwind City Watch. Those are very bad men who think they can get Lord Aziel into trouble!”

The little girl’s eyes went wide and she gasped. “Not Mr. Lord Aziel! He’s nice!”

“Indeed. So be sneaky and make sure the package gets to them. Okay?”

“Okay! Lets go, Bubbles!” The little girl chimed up, picking up the box and skittered quickly out of the room.

-=-=-

Several hours later, the package was delivered and set sneakily in a location for the Stormwind City Watch to find.

Mercy for the merciful.... She thought to herself as her burnished yellow eyes fell onto the bones riddled about the floor. Snapping her teeth together she bent to pick up a bone running her hand across the writing she snarled as she dropped it to the floor.

Years I've sat quiet while the alliance made their way through these lands. I think it time for me to pick up my armor once again. Nothing like a good fight to make me feel alive again.
Her thoughts were broken by the sound of footsteps, quickly she turns her head with a glare eyeing the other forsaken up and down she waved him off and headed for her stead.

"Easy boy." Her stead stomped at the ground in defiance of being put in a stable. "It's time we ride, I've a human to hunt down." She snaps her teeth together again as she kicks the sides of her undead stead, rearing up he slowly makes his way out of the stables. In the middle of town she bends to grab one of the bones placing it in a bag on her stead she kicked her heals into it's sides again. This time the stead takes off in a full gallop headed for the plaguelands.

Lighting up Darkshire

Malthaes kept his eyes trained on the tome in front of him, trying to tune out the noise of the rest of the Modas. The writing in the old text had faded in parts, making it hard enough to read without the rabble going on. Inwardly he cursed the Aldor for not keeping better care of their literature, but then again, they didn’t count on someone like him stealing the book from under their noses. And that the book had been written in the Draenei tongue added another layer of complexity. Worse of it all, he had to wade through pages upon pages praising the Naaru before he could actually get some useful information about the overgrown wind chimes.

Looking up from the book, he spotted the bounty notice from Stormwind City Watch. The rest of the Modas discussed the bounty with a mild disinterest. The name Orwyn came up, head of the Stormwind City Watch. Malthaes sent the Watch a head, sure, but perhaps that wasn’t the clearest message to send. With a glance up he spotted Yry, an undead shadow priest looking idle in the Sanctum.

“Yrykh,” Malthaes said. “Perhaps we should send a stronger message to our friends in the Alliance. Really fan the flames.”

The undead priest smiled.

***

Malthaes touched down first at the edge of Darkshire. Night had fallen, the moody fog snaking through the area and clinging to the corners of their buildings. He watched as the guards engaged in idle chatter, while others patrolled the outskirts with torches in their hands. They were alert, serious, but not afraid. That would change.

He thought he should wait for Yry to touch down, but before he knew it he hurled a giant ball of flame at the nearest guard. Piztal, his imp, chattered and hurled one of his own. The two bolts struck the guard, lighting him ablaze and shattering the quiet with the sounds of his screaming. An arrow hissed by him – Malthaes turned to its source and snarled. The air crackled with flames, and the guard writhed in flames. Blinded by pain and fear, she staggered off the top of the roof and plummeted, hitting the ground with a thump. To his right, Yrykh set down, his entire body wreathed in shadow.

“Welcome to the party,” Malthaes said, grinning. “And like any party, it needs some music.”

Yrykh bowed as Malthaes sent a burst of flame towards a rushing guard. The undead priest wasted no time, blasting incoming guards with burst of shadow. The air filled with shouts from the guards, screams from the civilians. Piztal tittered – Malthaes looked down and saw that it had gotten struck with an arrow through the chest.

“That’s what you get for being careless,” Malthaes snarled. The priest and warlock from Modas pressed a bit deeper into the town, casting down guards and sending others screaming. Malthaes spotted a home across the way, and he grinned.

“We need to find a child,” he said.

“For what?” Yry asked, blasting another guard with shadow. The guard crumpled, her eyes gone dark.

“Perhaps we can have it stuffed and sent to Orwyn. Or we can cut off its hands and send them to him, asking for a gold reward.”

“A good idea,” the undead priest said, nodding. They made their way to the front of the house. There he saw mother and child, both cowering. With a few words the mother’s body burst into flames, screaming. The child screamed in terror, backing away. There was more shouting, and then suddenly a blast of cold magic struck him in the back. He turned. Backed by the guards, the Alliance mage surrounded herself with cold magic, absorbing the shadow that Yrykh sent at her.

With a flash, Malthaes took the butt of his sword and whacked the child on the top of his head, knocking him out. In the next second, he snarled at Piztal.

“Take the child through the Nether – get him back to the sanctum. And make sure you don’t kill him.”

Piztal chattered, the arrow still stuck through his chest, and he grabbed the child and disappeared into the Nether. Malthaes turned again and saw that Yry made some room for their escape. Malthaes let out a burst of shadow, stunning their enemies. Yrykh and Malthaes bolted out of the room.

“She almost got me,” Yrykh said.

“Not as inept or cowardly as the rest,” Malthaes said. They regrouped, just in time to see that the guard and mage had regrouped. The guards rushed them again, the mage sending bolts of frost at them. Shouts and magic flew through the air. The Alliance fought with intensity, but they were uncoordinated, and the mage could not keep both Yrykh and Malthaes at bay. She fell back, retreating into a block of ice, while the rest of the guards fell to flame and shadow. Yrykh looked at Malthaes.

“Perhaps we should leave before they regroup again.”

“Indeed. We got what we came for.”

The two retreated, leaving bodies wreathed in flame and shadow in their wake.

((“She almost got me,” Yrykh said.- For some reason in my head I read that part with a surprised voice, like they were shocked the mage almost got them. Haha, I love it.))

(( I read it like that, too :P ))

(( haha, good so long as I'm not the only one))

((Ack! Lahkin derp, post on wrong thread.))

The muscles of his face snapped into a grotesque grin. Not dead the blood elf let out breaths that came out as whimpers. Sulir was the first to experience Pain's power. Standing above him now her eyes changed from a deep crimson to their normal color of bright blue. Pain was given eternal life and more. Sulir had been foolish to believe she was in his control. That somehow by being a part of her creation she would owe him loyalty. He paid for his foolishness. Sulir would pay for it for a very long time.

Pain had seised to walk in Sulir's dreams. She was now in her own body. She looked down upon the face of the blood elf, at the eyes wide open yet unseeing, the hair that flowed around a once angelic face. Sulir had wished to feel the power and asked her to guide him through the process. Pain was unsure. She had this power, had been given it in her creation. She knew what she was and did not flinch from it. Once she started with Sulir, she could not stop. She drew from within him such terrors as to shatter his whole being.

Pain looked around. In the corner was the hooded cloak she had been using during their travels. Sulir had taken caution to keep their whereabouts secret. He had suspected that Grymm would have him killed. Sulir and Pain had traveled to this small outpost near Redridge. Pain took the cloak up and put it on. Her face obscured by the hood. Pain left the hovel and mounted the horse outside. She would ride on through Redridge, on to Stormwind itself. Her destiny awaits with the Holy Guard with Pia Presidium.