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Artimus Devaneaux was furious, having found another copy of the manifesto posted outside Mardenholde. It seems whoever was doing this was damned good at what they did - they snuck in, snuck out, and no one was much the wiser.

"Who is doing this?!" he screamed at one of the Argent guards he had pulled aside, thrusting a copy of the manifesto in his face. "This is the second copy of this letter I've found in the last hour! And all anyone - myself included - has seen of the people who posted it are shifty individuals and half-glimpsed shadows! Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"We're not sure, Sir Devaneaux - we're not even sure who's behind all this."

Artimus took a deep breath. "Fine. Go to Highlord Fordring and secure permission for the Pia Presidium to investigate. It's our honor this anonymous author is questioning, so we will defend it." He knew there were members of the Guard who were expert trackers and stealth operatives; he was no slouch either. First, however, he had to go to Gentyl with the copy he had found, and go over a plan with her on how to catch these people.

"It is done, as you have asked."

Deep in the bowels of the once-mighty vessel, the paladin nodded. His companion asked, "Are you certain this was the right decision? The Pia Presidium will not take kindly to your calling their honor into account."

"Calling their honor into account implies that the organization ever had any. I am not so convinced. Individuals among them - Artimus, Mira, young Magdelyn - may be exceptions to the rule...but Gentyl has no control over her so-called knights, who are little more than mercenaries given a tabard and a title to make them feel important." He shook his head. "I have seen these 'Light militias' spring up for years - the Scarlet Crusade, the Argent Dawn, the Argent Crusade...they spend more time debating amongst themselves while traitors brew conspiracies in their midsts. And they all claim that in order to be saved, you have to swear allegiance to them."

"Even the Argent Crusade?"

"Sometimes I think so, yes. Tirion is a good man, his honor is unquestionable...but the same cannot be said of those who follow him. The Crusade has a greater purpose, though - first it was the defeat of the Lich King, and now it is the rebirth of Lordaeron. Light knows that the Alliance armies can't hack it, and neither can these militias. Sylvanas has made that point crystal clear. But she's not stupid enough to take on Fordring - if he could destroy the Lich King, she'd be a flash in the pan."

The draenei farseer shook his head. "You humans and your idioms." He looked solemnly at the kneeling man, attired only in robes. "Are you certain you do not wish to appraise your allies? Packleader Zherron, Lord Devaneaux, or even Priestess Genevra?"

"Zherron is a loose cannon, and his loyalties shift far too often to be considered trustworthy. And I will not force Artimus to choose between me and Gentyl. He must make that decision on his own accord. As for Genevra...she is an enigma, and her mind is too much in flux." He shook his head. "No. Leave the others out of this. You are the only one I can trust now."

The farseer bowed slightly. "As you wish." He retreated to leave his friend to his meditations.

So much anger in your heart, champion of Lordaeron, the naaru floating above him chided him gently. Jaeden'laek's question stands: Was this the right decision? Or a reckless action encouraged by anger?

"I know not," he admitted. "But it is done."

Gondorin stood at the entry to Hearthglen, a small sheaf of papers in his hand to be delivered from Highlord Mograine to Tirion. He read the declaration with grim amusement. "Unfortunate that Gentyl's people are being pulled into the smear campaign," he rumbled; even in his human form, his voice was deep and resonant. He took the paper down (Why does it look like there have been several things recently torn free of this pole? he wondered), and, knowing that Pia Presidium was often to be found in Highlord Fordring's keep, went wandering to see if Gentyl was about. He pulled an Argent Crusader aside and said evenly, "If the Holy Guard are about, tell them Gondorin Ragefang wishes to speak with Gentyl Turncutt. This is a matter of urgency. What's your name, soldier?"

The soldier, seeing the glimmering blue eyes of a Death Knight, stammered, "Sergeant Peeyott, sir..."

Gondorin's face broke into an even, sinister smile. "Do not fail me... Sergeant Peeyott."

((Sorry, I had to...))

Erelyn set her book aside and rose up from her seat by the hearth. She went to Lahkin, eyes on the parchment he'd set on the table, her expression set and grim. Picking up the page, she read it – not once – but twice. Her hands dropped to her side and she gave a weary sigh, then she shook her head. “We knew this was gonna happen, yeh? If it aint war against the horde, it's gotta be war against each other.”

Holding the parchment loosely in her grasp, she rubbed the nape of her neck with her free hand. Her fingers drifted then to the ax wound still healing at the crown of her head. She felt it, felt the lesson it had driven into her soul, and would likely never forget. She didn't want to admit just yet how torn she really felt. She didn't want to believe her father could be one of those perpetuating Gondorin Ragefang's blood sport, for that's how it had been described: killing for sport. For the pleasure of it, and all while pretending it was justified. After all, the horde was the enemy, right?

The common room was quiet save for the occasional crack of a knot in the fireplace. She flashed a look at Lahkin, hoping he wouldn't see. How many times had she declared she wasn't a sissy-girl and how many times in the last three weeks had she broken down? It was becoming a ritual and she didn't want to count.

“My father ordered one of his men to break the legs of that draenei if she set foot on the Galleon. You heard it, too. Quarantine, or no quarantine, that's not --” She broke off, pinching the bridge of her nose the same way she'd seen Finn do a dozen times or more.

“Why do we respond with violence, Lahkin? I don't get it … I don't want to be like this, and yet … at the same time … “ She tossed the flier down on the table and turned away. Tilting her head to glance back at it once more, she sighed. “ … if anyone lays a hand on Finn … I can't say I wouldn't hesitate to run them through.”

"That's why we send him away, so he can't respond with violence." Lahkin forced on a smile for her. He could see her colors twisting in his Other Sight, and he felt the same angry, protective tightening in his gut he felt when the Razortalons had attacked her. But her words gave him pause. Why do we respond with violence...?

Lahkin forced the angry feeling away. Why, indeed.

He slumped back into one of the chairs, holding out a hand to her. "We attack...those who attack us. It all started with an assumption...some action taken wrongly...somehow the other side became a threat."

Lahkin closed his eyes.

"And we deal with threats in three ways...fighting them, running from them...or maybe...finding what wrong word was said and correcting it.

"It takes humility. And a lot of people these days aren't humble. They think its the same as shame."

Lahkin opened his eyes, looking at her.

"It's courage."

The Archmagus' head tilted to the side in slight curiosity, the man having spotted a weary looking drudge posting a notice on the Hearthglen bulliten board. All the while, the young orc was muttering something about how he had to replace the light blasted notice every hour.

"Ah, lovely." Raoul mused out-loud, to no one in particular. "That generally means whatever it is has pissed someone off. Let's see what propaganda is being posted today, hm?" A faint glimmer of magical light left the man's hand as he warped reality around him, slowing his fall as he pushed himself off his perch atop a nearby wall.

For once, as the mage read over the letter, he was actually surprised. It is not often, after all, that such proclamations are generally logical; or at least, as logical as can be expected. "Suppose I can't exactly fault them for ignorance," he murmured to himself. "Would be nice not to be called a monster for defending my home against terrorists, hm?" A sigh as he shook his head, continuing over the letter. "Still. Nice to see more folks aren't falling for the kodo!@#$ anymore." A shrug of his shoulders as he left the board, returning to the tower to get back to his research. It would be interesting to see if more was heard from this mysterious author.

[OOC I'm late in getting this up, but here it is]

The sickness in the city had many on edge, and while Genevra prepared for the evening sermon in the Cathedral she offered Devotions, or blessings from the Light, to those who crossed the threshold. She looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, only to hear the familiar stammer of Nynra Lightheart.

“ L-Lady Stoneheardt.”

“What word from the Council?

“ T-They are attacking m-more outposts. O-Ones not involved in t-the war. T-The consensus was t-that those that d-do nothing to s-stop the Horde a-are enemies as w-well. They will still a-avoid civillian o-outposts, b-but will not s-stop collateral d-damage or assaults on t-traders.W-With that in m-mind, I s-stated that they would lose t-the aid of Conclave s-should they agree t-to do t-this.

Genevra bit her lower lip, "That will prove .. problematic with our current endeavor with the Loreseekers."

Nynra nods in agreement "S-Should I s-speak with sir Ragefang a-about the issue, o-or will our d-denial to f-fight stand?"

“ This last Monday we met with Garorn, a Tauren, of the Loreseekers. To discuss an alliance between our two like minded orders.”

“ H-How did the m-meeting go?”

“ We meet again in one week to discuss the possibility of allies being included to ensure that we are all mutually protecting each other's interest. But this idea, that those not working agianst the Horde are "For" the Horde is ridiculous.If that were the case then the Council would be after the AAMS. If they can be neutral, why can other parties not be as well?”

“ T-They have a-agreed to it, u-unfortunately. P-Pia has stated s-so long it is n-not a civillian t-target, it is a-an acceptable t-target.”

Genevra sighed and shook her head, closing her eyes tightly.

“ T-They will burn Thunder B-Bluff for the sole reason t-that exists. Silvermoon c-crumbles because i-it does not stop G-Garrosh.”

“ So open warfare?”

“ I-It seems s-so. I worry t-they will g-go too far.”

“ I am not your master Lady LIghtheart, but I am your advisor, I cannot ask those to fight who do not wish to, nor am I inclined to. We are working towards reaching an agreement with the Loreseekers and expanding our knowledge and understanding of Azeroth in a large way by doing so. I cannot put that in jeopardy by getting caught up in this... warmongering.”

Nynra nods in agreement "I-I am no f-fighter; I-I am a healer, a-and were I a f-fighter who a-agreed to this, I-I would pray t-that the Light s-smites me then and t-there."

Genevra nodded slowly understandingly, "May the Light watch over us all this evening, as it seems even within the Alliance we are starting to drift apart."

“ I-It seems s-so... t-that is another f-fear I have, Lady S-Stoneheardt; that w-we are drifting t-too far on war a-again... it has b-been quiet considering r-relations between the Horde and t-the Alliance, b-but only because of other e-enemies...:H-However, I f-fear that there are n-no other forces for o-our allies a-and the "e-enemy" to b-band against... t-this war will s-surge in full force. “

Genevra sighed exaspatedly. “ War is not the answer, when discussions and understandings may be come to. But perhaps many feel that we are past the point of talking.”

“ O-Our king c-certainly agrees w-with that, a-and Garrosh has n-never seemed one f-for words. “

“ I've been one to protect those I care for, my family, my friends, I think now is the first time in some time when our paths will diverge. Because I do not support their choices, and for that, I am truly fearful. Not only for myself, but for my family, and the causes that bind us to our closest friends.

Nynra shakes her head, her mask twitching in a frown "I-I worry t-that more than j-just families will b-be split apart because of t-this."

Genevra nodded, "I know," She sighed, "Usually, there is a lull before a great storm, but it seems that is not the case, we have not been afforded a calm." She looked up across at her fellow Priestess. "The storm is upon is."

“ W-What is to b-be done, t-then?

17:57:18 Genevra said softly, "I'm not sure that I have the answer, nor am I sure that the answer lies within our Archives, for while we look to the past to understand it, I fear it is being repeated all around us."

“ W-We may know h-history, b-but n-not all the w-world does. T-They will simply c-continue a cycle of b-bloodshed... T-The best we can h-hope for is t-to keep those w-we can safe f-from the ensuing r-rampage of the w-world. I p-pray it will b-be enough.” She cradles her little raptor hatchling, the tiny creature nuzzling into the priestess' arms fearfully.

“ While we cannot change the course that others take, we can offer our insight to those who would listen, and pray , yes Sister, pray the Light will afford us guidance.”

“ T-The Light will p-provide. O-Of that, I am s-sure. “

Garorn cringed as he read the letter Gondorin Ragefang, "hero" of the Alliance, had given out.

Loreseekers, if not actively working against the Horde, is as much an enemy as Hellscream's Reach. Garorn anticipated even the AAMS coming to blows with the War Council. That Ragefang would be the man to doom Azeroth if something was not to be done!

Garorn's thoughts turned to Conclave. Genevra was a kind woman, and her guild of explorers and historians would prove great allies with the Loreseekers. But would the treaty come to pass? Could Garorn, with good conscience, sign a treaty swearing seperation from the Horde and endanger his own people? Forbid it, almighty Earth Mother! Gondorin Ragefang had to be stopped. And Garorn knew just the Worgen to do the job. Aorune Fireblade had been kind to him before, and the paladin's opposition to the War Council was known to him. Yes...It was a shadowy proposition to himself, but the other option was death.

Nynra frowned to herself as she stole through the streets of Orgrimmar, having fully dropped enchantment for the first time in a long while; her deadened skin and rotted flesh was showing through a set of torn brown robes she had purchased just for the occasion, and her bony fingers scrabbled along the wall while she rushed to the Wyvern's Tail, fearful that she would be recognized by the wrong people.

But she felt that she had to do what she could; there were those that deserved to hear her words, and even though she had returned to the Alliance, she felt a connection to her old friends within the Horde. She still had allies on both sides, and she could not betray them. While no one was looking she quickly tacked on a notice at the Wyvern's tail before dashing off again, rushing to her enchanted carpet just outside the orcish city.

The second letter at the tail, written in orcish, read as thus:

To the Horde;

First, to Drakehide, I thank you for your apology, but it was not required; I am simply glad to aid old friends in Homeland and the Horde.

That being said; I will be operating a neutral healing station within Ratchet, and will come along upon request to heal the sick and wounded from this war. Though I would prefer to accept only innocents, should a wounded soldier walk through my doors and request healing, I will not turn them away and do what I can to ease their pains. I pray that, in doing so, we can begin to close shut this agonizing rift between the Horde and the Alliance, and peace could, for once, be truly fulfilled.

Light bless you

Nynra Lirann LightheartP.S.: Drakehide, I would ask that you send my regards to Greatmother Poni, and that Razi and I are doing quite well.

Reflecting back on it, she knew what she was doing was treason to the Alliance, but she feared for her friends in Homeland. As for the rest of the Horde... she trusted the Light in this; all creatures deserve a second chance. She intended to give them that chance.

Perched on a rocky cliffside just outside Orgrimmar, Eidan Zherron watched Nynra - or at least who he presumed was Nynra - depart. He had tailed her from Duskwood to Durotar, and he recoiled in horror upon seeing her for what she was. Saavedro had been right. "She is very jittery, stammers a great deal, has a strange aura about her - and is seen covered practically head to toe in consealing garments," the paladin had said. "Keep an eye on her. She is not what she appears."

Not only was she "not what she appeared", she was also committing espionage. Not treason - he did not see her as part of the Alliance anymore. She was a spy, in the service of the Banshee Queen. He knew he had to report this - but to who? Saavedro had vanished, and he suspected Genevra wouldn't believe him. But she must have known what she was harboring! Any idiot with eyes would know that Nynra, if that was even her name, was not normal. She was not even human. She was...a thing. An inhuman monster. Part of that group of inhuman monsters that had destroyed Gilneas.

I should shred you to ribbons right now, he thought, watching the priestess leave. But not yet. I will draw out the hunt, relish it... Though he thought Ragefang had the right of it, he did not want to act too rashly - he had learned that lesson quickly enough, to think before moving. At that moment, as he took to the air, he knew exactly what he had to do.

He would go to Genevra.

((I have to guiltily admit I am loving watching the boat be rocked. xD This is an awesome thread, lots of emotionally-charged character-based content, and...wow. Just...awesome. I think this story arc could really heat up, and pick up, and go places. To Nynra who created this thread, and everyone else who's commented thus far, I salute thee! This could get REALLY interesting.))

Judiel did well, doing what Aorune Fireblade bid her to do.

The Counter Council was beginning. While Aorune focused on converting Terra Incognita, Judiel gained many a follower. Drakehide, Son of Mok''Rukh. Kagran. Even Aethel became interested. Judiel even chanced upon the Pillar of Honor champion, Tyrynna, herself, who would hopefully go off and take the message to their leader Timeus.

Emma sat in her warded and windowless office, quietly going over the latest dispatches from her field agents. While most of them were purely providing her with information just to line their own pockets, there was one or two who she could depend on, and who's opinion she valued more than the others. Cypher Three was one of her better agents, one who'd even managed to get a transcript a good portion of the last Black Hand society meeting, as well as a list of most of those attending, information which was most illuminating. Three wasn't in it for the money, of for some perceived slight by the Horde, but because they believed what they were doing was the right thing. Too few of that type in the world, and at times she worried about them-idealists send to stick their necks out. She'd ordered three to back off for a bit, and just gather news floating around Orgrimar, sometimes it was amazing what could be found by simply reading the bulletin board at the Wyrven's Tail. She looked over the copy of the second missive from Nynra Lightheart, comparing it to her copy of the first one. Same style of writing, and though it was transcribed, Three reported the handwriting was the same.

She sighed and put down the document in a pile with others on her stone topped desk, with a wave of her hand, flame leapt from her fingers, incinerating the pile to ash “Bloody amateur,” she muttered as she got to her feet, the worgen putting her weight on her staff. “doesn't know the first thing about being covert” She thought she recognized the name from one of the council meetings, there was something always a bit odd about that one. But then there was something a bit odd about most of the people in that room, including herself, but then she was still in Gilnean Intelligence. It was time to take a trip to Ratchet.

Finnaeus sat in the middle of Brightwood Grove, attempting to meditate and finding it nearly impossible. So much swirled in his mind - Harmyone's Light-less condition and the warlock who did it to her, the contagion sweeping through Stormwind, the exposure of Kordrion to the Emerald Nightmare, Gondorin Ragefang's drumbeat towards war, and his constant, unceasing worry about Erelyn and those whom he cared about and yet could not spend enough time with them to ensure their safety. He had missions to run, information to gather. Every time he dropped in to visit and had to leave to run some errand or another, he worried that it would be the last time he saw them, whole and intact. Or, he mused, as whole and intact as one could be in a time like this.

And now this piece of propoganda - left anonymously in the hopes of...what? He didn't take anything the piece of paper said seriously. After all, anyone who dropped harsh words and vicious politic in the comfort of anonymity was hardly worth consideration. But the reprecussions could not be ignored - the Alliance had turned on itself, biting itself in the neck. It occured to him then that the Modas had gotten what they wanted. Finn closed his eyes, trying to eliminate the noise and see things as they were, and that was the only conclusion he could reach. The Modas attacked, and attacked, until finally they managed to splinter the Alliance into those who wished to retaliate, and those who sued for peace. Either way, the Alliance was dividing, leaving them more open to further danger.

What a horrible way to promote unity, Finnaeus mused. And all in the name of the Light. He shook his head. Ideals were useless in the face of reality - all of this division would only push them closer to war, and once the war truly opened, they would either be forced to fight or embrace destruction.

Judie had promised her an Alliance civil war, and she revelled in the joy of it. AEthel grinned, taking back another glass of frog venom brew, her thoughts upon the future. The alliance would splinter, break in two, and as one half destroyed the other, the Modas and the Horde would fall upon the victor like a pack of worg. She had been in countless battles, and she could not wait to meet this worgen that would form this... counter council. She still hated that name, taking it as a responsive unit, she would bring this up to the worgen, she would state herself to be the leader of this council. The alliance had their war council. This would be her own infiltrators. The worgen would soon learn his place as her subordinate.

((>.> *whacks Aethel*))

((what? You can't say you didn't expect her to decide to take control!))

((*whacks* Didn't promise you civil war. *whack*))

((*puts Aethel and Aorune in a jar, then shakes it, to see if they'll fight!*))