World of Warcraft®

A short, simple note reaches the offices of the A.A.M.S., scrawled out on rough parchment in even rougher, chicken-scratch handwriting.

Throm'ka, A.A.M.S.,

I have an urgent message of a sensitive nature that requires sending. Discretion is key. I can be reached in the Northern Barrens, at the dwelling place of Mok'Rukh, my father. I will pay whatever fee is required for this message to reach its recipient, as quickly as possible.

Please make contact at your first available opportunity.

- Drakehide

((OOC, if an AAMS courier could please perhaps contact Drake in-game or via mail - heck, even if someone wants to contact me here on the forums, or RP a meeting here on the forums [which, in retrospect, might also be the easiest way to get a hold of me...^^;], and I can mail you the message and golds and such in-game, that would be awesome. Drakey just needs a delivery made somewhat soonish, over the next couple weeks at some point. Thanks!))

Sulailee parked and stopped her chopper's engine just before reaching the dwelling. It was getting late and dusk was about to bow away; the last flimsy rays of burnt-orange light covered the scarred savannah as she walked towards the installment. She gave a few quick, cautious glances about as she first decided to circle around the premises; she had no intent on being followed or stalked.

She calmly walked to the rendez-vous point.

"Drakehide? I am Sulailee. What can the AAMS do for you today?"

The sound of the chopper, and then the sound of that chopper stopping, did not go altogether unnoticed. Inside the house, Drakehide glanced down at a bound roll of parchment in his hand, and sighed. Effortlessly, he popped it into a small, round case, one that should protect it during its potentially lengthy journey. He sat in a wooden chair, across from a round stone table, and other empty chairs, thinking this over one last time and waiting for the A.A.M.S. representative to enter the home.

The first one to mark Sulailee's presence was the orc, Mok'Rukh. He was sleeping outside of the orcish dwelling, on the ground, lying on his back. He groaned occasionally, breaking wind almost in time with the groans. Based on the carcass lying on the ground, not too far away, and the charred remains of what look like several logs and a makeshift grill, it can be presumed that Mok'Rukh (and possibly another - Bralox, perhaps?) recently consumed far more of a thunder lizard than was necessarily healthy for them.

Mok'Rukh, as he woke in gastral agony, sat up, spotted the AAMS representative, and pointed to the house as he continued to grumble and fart.

"Boy's in the house," he mumbles, as best he can. "Go on in. Throm'ka..."

Inside the house, when Sulailee continued on in, Drakehide was still seated at the table. The only item on the table was the round case, containing a scroll, and a satchel of what, when shaken, sounded like gold pieces.

"I thank you for attending to this quickly," Drakehide spoke, standing and giving her a polite bow, before sitting down again. "And I thank you for your discretion. I require the A.A.M.S.' assistance because I need this scroll delivered to a night elf. The huntress Tyrynna. It is already written in a tongue that she will understand...it does not require translation. I ask that the scroll not be opened until it reaches its destination."

Standing in front of the table facing the elf, she first glanced at the case; her complexion slightly tightened by the secrets contained within, she finally move her glance towards the elf.

"A priori, this seems to qualify as within what we usually do. However before we accept any work from you, I must clarify a few points with you."

She finally reached a chair with one hand and took a seat in front of the elf.

"First. I must know if the agent I send for this delivery may or may not get in danger. We had a few... situations in the past and would very much like to avoid such a situation to occur again."

She glanced at the doorstep, glancing at the orc still standing there; as he noticed he had been spotted, he slowly went back to his evening nap with a deft grunt as he walked away from the small house.

"Second..."

(( I could easily keep going, but I'd REALLY like to make this meeting happen ingame. If we can't meet today, I'll edit the post accordingly. ))

The discussion continued for sometime, inside Mok'Rukh's home, while the old orc slept, groaning and farting occasionally, outside. Drakehide listened, motionless as the sound of the chopper started up in the distance. The A.A.M.S. representative, Sulailee, was departing.

Drakehide, the blood elf who embraced freely the ways of the orcs who had taken him in those years ago, was now caught in the middle of what might be his last no-win scenario. So many times previously he'd dodged the proverbial bullet, flown through by the skin of his teeth, but new dilemna threatened to challenge the blood elf, his honor, and his allegiance like nothing else.

His first allegiance...as always...was to Mok'Rukh, his family, his friends, and the Horde. What he had told Sulailee was true - he hoped that the contents of this message would eventually help root out individuals within the Horde who were doing questionable, and dishonorable, things. There were several things he had not, however, told her. One of those things bothered him deeply.

True, that he had confessed why he was doing this, why he was sending the message. He did this for the sake of the Horde, but also to keep others - Horde and Alliance alike - from suffering the fate he had in captivity. To keep them from loss of dignity, integrity, honor. Honorable warriors deserved better.

What he had failed to mention to Sulailee was that Tyrynna, the recipient of the message, was the one who had previously been his torturer.

And...now that he thought on the message's contents...depending on whether she cracked the message's code immediately, depending on what kind of mood she was in when she read it over, and depending on whether the contents of the message would drive her into a rage...this could, potentially, turn into a VERY dangerous delivery.

He had to tell the courier, before - !

The chopper's engine faded away, off into the distance. Drakehide sighed, for he had missed his chance.

Tyr eyes the curious letter she received. She was confused enough that it was delivered by an Ocheliad officer, but the code? Hell does it all mean to her.

She already knew it was sent by one Bron Drakehide, by the initials written. But what the letter meant when deciphered, well to say the least, she might have to spend hours reading to figure it all out. it looked like some sort of poem, and poetry was not something Tyr dealt with...

Sighing, she attempted to decipher again.

Now, idiots go herein thoughtlessly...

Scanning it a number of times, she discovered its meaning far quicker than she imagined, and her eyes widened greatly as she did, despite her knowledge of what it addressed.

Brontes, she thought. I need to contact Brontes.

Drakehide had gone without Cactus Cider since before his capture. It had been the warrior's claim, once, that with enough Cactus Cider all things were possible. As he sat, late that night, in a solitary corner of the Wyvern's Tail Inn, waiting for contact, he realized that his current dilemna was not one that any amount of Cactus Cider could solve. No...this was going to require clear thought, rational thought, conscience, and sobriety.

The son of Mok'Rukh should have thought of this well before he'd taken to drinking, that night.

Strangely enough, though, the Cactus Cider seemed to be giving him clarity. It granted him insights that he'd lacked, when he'd sent the message, and when he'd last spoken to Keedriel and Akira about his most recent moral crisis. After he'd sent the message to Tyrynna, Drakehide had been fortunate enough to meet Keedriel and Akira, and explain the troubling tidings he'd heard from Orgrimmar and Undercity.

Keedriel had not taken the news well. In fact, Keedriel had taken the news rather badly. Drakehide was used to being told to hold, told to stay his hand, told to stop and think before leaping blindly into a situation. Now, he found himself telling Keedriel to step back, to wait, to think things through. It was...an uncomfortable position.

What troubled Drakehide most was conflicting loyalties. He had loyalty to his friends - Keedriel, Akira, Fehl, Aeshi, and all of his Homeland companions - friends who had never let him down, never given up on him. Now...he was concerned that he would have to choose between these friends, and his family. That family being his adoptive father Mok'Rukh, his "kin" in Rukh's clan, and the Horde.

Keedriel had been ready to dive in, blades swinging in every direction, to resolve an unacceptable moral situation. Akira had seemed outright disgusted with the tidings. Tyrynna...Tyrynna, from what Drake could recall of his once-torturer, barely bordered on sanity most of the time. After their last encounter, he had faith that she would not be consumed by madness, that she would not act rashly...but there was a nagging doubt inside him, a sense that told him that he needed to speak to each of them again.

He needed to make sure that however they proceeded next, that honor was served, and that right was served. The more he drank, though, and the more he thought on this, the more Drakehide began to fear that he had simply traded one evil, one dishonor, for another. If blood was spilled, because of what he'd done...innocent blood...then his dishonor, his shame, would be beyond measure. Beyond forgiveness.

"More, Gravy," Drakehide sighed deeply, placing an empty glass on the bar, waiting for the old troll to fill the vessel again.

By Rukh's Axe...he pondered, What have I done...?

((Just a quick FYI for those involved in the present scheme - namely Keed, Tyr, Akira, Fehl, and others - I will likely not be able to RP this one out properly for some time due to work schedule, and...upon a lot of careful thought, after our last meet-up, I'm starting to think things might need to be approached a little more sensitively just to make sure that OOC we don't end up trampling anyone's story ideas or causing too much ruckus.))

((I'd like to hold one more little "meet-up" like we did recently to discuss options, but at this point I think Drake's going to approach this with a little more diplomacy than originally planned. That way, I can also use the forums as a medium, since I won't be in-game often in the next few days when the rest of you are. When Drake sees you again IC, this way he'll at least have some progress to report instead of us all just sitting on this plot thread, twiddling our thumbs. ^^ Will try and sign on in the next couple days just to chat with y'all and figure out what's going on.))

((Just wanted to add that I've started putting diplomatic measures in motion. ^^ IC, Drake will let y'all know next time I'm about. Sorry, I know my work schedule is making this take a lot longer than it otherwise should...))

((With that being said, just cuz Drake's working on a diplomatic solution doesn't mean that you guys can't continue coming up with a solution on your own. ^^ I don't imagine certain parties will be pleased anyway when they hear Drake's trying to negotiate through this one. If you want IC to continue with a more radical plan, blow things up, and pull the rug out from under the son of Rukh while he's in the middle of talks, that'd be cool too. ^^ Admittedly, the wilder this plot gets, the more fun I'm having!))

((PS, if you need armaments, I can OOC give you some engineering bombs, grenades, guns, and other similar stuffs now that I'm running engineering up, just if you want any characters involved to be carrying them IC. Let me know if there's any way I can help. ^^ Even if I'm not in-game much, I'll do whatever I can to see this plot line through.))

The son of Mok'Rukh frowned, as he sat at his father's table, inside his family's home in the Northern Barrens. He sat before a blank piece of parchment, the way he'd found himself recently sitting before blank pieces of parchment, trying to string all of the right words together. This diplomacy business..."negotiating" business...it was too much talk. Too cloak-and-dagger.

The blood elf preferred a straight fight, anyday, and all of this letter-writing was beginning to make his hands ache. He had already contacted Akira and Keedriel, careful to say nothing damning in his messages. He still, however, had to reach a member of their little band who had a right to know what Drakehide had learned, as troubling as that news might be.

Drakehide sighed as he began the second letter to Tyrynna, using code. It would be a longer letter than the first. And...this time, when she read through the coded message, this time she WOULD be furious. The huntress was not going to like this...not one bit...

Why, Orphan, raise such echoes?
The hills ascend, now.
Who erred?
Today, he only unhears. Gentlefolk, how troubling...

He carried on, writing the encoded message in the same fashion that he had written the last. When it was done, he glanced it over, placed it in a plain, round scroll-case, and tucked it away with the rest of his possessions for the night. In the morning, he would send for a courier.

The warrior thought back, as he lay down to rest, about what Zalmar had written to him earlier. He pondered carefully the conversations he'd had with Akira, Keedriel, and Tyrynna on this matter, and thought carefully again over the letter he'd been sent by Modas. Was he really doing the right thing? Were his actions truly for the good of the Horde, and the good of his family?

As Drakehide passed into slumber, Mok'Rukh was seated outside the family home. It was dark, and he had started a small fire, cooking leftover thunder lizard from his previous adventure with Bralox. He sighed as he watched the light in the home go out, knowing that his son was finally at rest. Or, as close to it as the boy was going to get. Long, had the shaman prayed this night to the spirits of his ancestors, that they might stand by the blood elf he had taken into his home as a son. Now, the time for prayer was done. What happened next was up to Drakehide, and his friends.

"Be mindful, as you stare into the dark, my son," the old orc sighed, "For, as you stare into it, you may find the dark staring back into you..."

((Went back and rearranged some of my previous responses to make less double-post and did a brief IC post to give those involved in this plotline an idea of where Drakey is at the moment. ^^ I'll try and be around in-game soon...sorry for this bloody work schedule. ^^;))

((Dude, you've apologized, like three times. it's alright :) ))

A scroll-case mysteriously appears in Tyrynna's bag. At random. In the blink of an eye. That wasn't there a second ago! I wonder how it got there? Hmm...now, who do both Tyrynna and Drakehide know who's very good at sneaking...?

T.,

Why, Orphan, raise such echoes?
The hills ascend, now.
Who erred?
Today, he only unhears. Gentlefolk, how troubling...

Seems late, and Vipers' echoes sound.
Allow rage's exhortations!
Collect, illicit vipers, innocent lives inside, as neighbours sleep.

Who else
Abandons rage's entrance?
Orphans nevermore,
Alas!
Troubling image, mirror's eyes, recoil...

We must meet again. Read first.

B."D."E.

...as for how it got there, well, that's still a mystery...

...or IS it?