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((Trust me, Aorune, this has a very real opportunity for some splintering.

But that's okay; Ragefang has ways of dealing with that, too. ;) ))

((I was promised a civil war! Though, due to "unforeseen" circumstances via Aethels life (see Returning to the Devil thread) AEthel will probably be trying to turn this into a horde War council.))

Garorn cringed at the letter sent to him by Aorune. This was not what he had wanted.

The Alliance would plummit into a civil war if Aorune's plan came to fruit! Garorn cursed as himself for ever contacting the Worgen, but it had to be done for the sake of the Loreseeker-Conclave treaty. Thus, he sent another letter to Aorune .

To Aorune Fireblade,

This is Garorn Loreseeker. You have gone far from what I asked of you. I asked for a plea to Ragefang, through politics and reason. Not this. The Loreseekers will not stand in the "Counter-Council" as you name it. ....Hail the Earthmother.

04/06/2012 08:07 AMPosted by Æthelgyth

((I was promised a civil war! Though, due to "unforeseen" circumstances via Aethels life (see Returning to the Devil thread) AEthel will probably be trying to turn this into a horde War council.))

((*snuggles Aethel* Yes! Give us a Horde War Council! Start fighting with us! :D ))

Aorune dropped down from his gyphon Ebon on Lordneas's great tower, and was greeted by many a guard and mage. As he made his way down to the Keep itself, he smiled at what was coming to pass. Finally, in some glorious way, the War Council was coming under fire for its terrible acts, and he was confident the Terra Incognita may splinter off. The Counter-Council would begin.

Great warriors were entering the fold. Drakehide, the Son of Mok'Rukh, was well known to Aorune as a great and honorable warrior from Judiel's Homeland. Kagran, an excellent shot with the rifle. While he was a bit angered that Judiel promised Aethel that he would welcome her, the enemy of his enemy was his friend. Perhaps.

Aorune looked over his notes. Judiel has tried to convince Tyrynna to persuade her guild's leader, Timeus, to join the Counter-Council. He doubted that the Pillar would make the switch, but nonetheless not having the group would hurt. However...Aorune was extremely confident that the Tera Incognita would join, and for this, he was satisfied for the moment.

Aorune pained for the fact that perhaps his own group would not be in it. He had not told Luptia of this matter, and she was a still faithful member of the Council. She would not budge to join, no matter who was leading the new Counter-Council.

A lessening of the darkness heralded the coming morning as night reluctantly released its hold to the sun in the natural order of day following night following Day. Across the docks men and women were already hard at work readying the first fish of the day for sale, though every now and again one would stop and gaze off across the water watching the sea reflect the riot of colors that morning brought with it.

Perched in the small grove behind the recluse a pair of eyes grown old before their time watched the shift yet did not see from being so lost in his own thoughts. Absently tugging on one of his drake's spines the rogue shifted his gaze down to behold the young creature. As much an outcast in his own world as his rider Shadethicket, as he had taken to calling himself after a chance meeting with a night elf, glanced over his shoulder in question. Despite the differences in nature and the innate tendencies of the twilight drakes the two had managed to form a bond rooted in the fact that while their skins might be the same as their fellows...inside they were anything but.

Smiling slightly Kord shook his head and turned his gaze back to the water before quietly speaking, "There's so much anger in the world, hatred...distrust. Nobody seems to be happy anymore unless they are inflicting misery on someone else on the other side of the line. Even Lahkin and Eri...they are my family and I will kill and die for them but...sometimes I wonder inside why we have to. Ya know?"

The young drake opened his mouth to make a reply but stopped quickly as a faint shimmer beside them solidified into the old stone drake. "Killing is the way of nature boy; in this even the unnatural serve her. So to answer why you must kill all you need to do is look to the world as a whole. You and I...even the young one you ride for all that his becoming was not normal follow this rule."

The rogue eyed the drake cautiously before speaking "if it is the way of nature then why does everyone make nature out to be something so perfect?! This isn't natural! All it is doing is bringing misery as people attack, get attacked right back and then attack once more until nobody can remember what happiness was beyond killing your foe. What about living life with your friends, being able to enjoy the wonders of the world without having to worry about who wanted to stab who and how you were going to st-"

Holding up a wing to stop the young man before he got wound up the drake shook his head. "Child...your intentions are noble and your questions sincere but they are naive. While yes...Killing is nature's way of making sure the world does not become crowded I never stated that what they do is nature's way. When the first creatures were given sentience they were given the ability to choose their own destiny and to see to their own happiness. For all that you might not see it through the fog of the atrocities committed that is still in place today. Man and beast when given awareness must choose their paths to walk including that of the destroyer."

Glowering slightly Kord thought on this for a few moments before retorting "And so that makes it acceptable? That because they had the freedom to they chose this path? You're wrong...it's not."

Sighing the old drake turned to glance over the water. “No, you are not listening to what I said. While you speak with passion in your heart it's the wrong kind. Hatred begets hatred...and only misery comes from that. You speak of how you wish to see the atrocities stopped and the war to end but you lie to yourself and the world around you."

Puffing up indignantly the rogue scowled "I do no-"

Again the Drake raised a wing to stop him. "You do, tell me...have you forgiven the undead for taking your childhood away? Your family and those you loved? Before you are able to change the world you have to change yourself...and you have not. You know better then to lie to me, I can see the festering knot of hatred inside you feeding your anger and pain over what was done. Face it and embrace it for what it is...know and understand how those events while painful shaped you into the man you are today."

For once Kord found himself speechless as he digested the verbal slap. The drake was right and he knew it...but it did not make it easier to admit or even face. With a soft sigh he settled for letting silence be his answer as he turned back to watch the end of the sunrise. By now the colors were lightening from the spectacular display into more subdued tones but yet oranges, reds and even a bit of purple mixed in still set the sky and water alight.

Awed by the display the young rogue turned to comment to the spirit frowning slightly as he realized it was gone. While the spirit had answered quite a few questions...unfortunately he had left the rogue with many more. Sighing quietly he turned to watch the final colors fade as the day settled in.

“Courage...” Erelyn repeated, looking down at Lahkin. Her grip tightened around his hand the same way it always tightened when she needed an anchor. She knew – no matter how much she stood here staring down at him, her eyes pleading for him to fix all of this – it wasn't something any one person could fix.

Alone.

Erelyn's eyes widened. “Oh … no.” She said this more to herself, to the understanding just dawning in her head, but the word seemed to echo in the common room, there in the keep, even buried under ground. She shook her head and said it once again. A knot snapped in the fireplace, startling her. She closed her eyes and focused on Lahkin's hand around hers.

“It's courage, but it's also trust,” she told him. “Nobody trusts anybody anymore.” Her emotions swarmed over her, threatening to eradicate all thought. They pushed her to react instinctively, but deep down Erelyn knew this was one of those problems that required slow, precise thinking – logic.

“When I come through that mage portal to Stormwind, I had nothing. I was alone, see?” She began, only to pause and retreat inside herself once more. Suni had once talked of “tangles” and how they had to be sorted one thread at a time.

Suddenly, Erelyn was reminded of the cat she and Lahkin had encountered so many months ago. She was tangled up in a balloon line, and Erelyn saw now how differently they'd gone about freeing her. Erelyn wouldn't cut the threads this time. No, this time she'd untangle them (like Lahkin had), let him sort through them, and maybe he'd find something useful from them instead.

“I din't have nobody ...” she whispered, chuffed softly, and straightened. She wanted to sit down, but that would mean giving up contact. She wasn't willing to do so just yet.

“I had no one,” she repeated. “I was frightened, too. But then I met my father … before we knew. And, through him I met you and Kordrion. Alelsa wasn't long after. Then came Ronnad, even Turrick and Elise ...”

She glanced down at Lahkin, wondering if she was making any sense. His expression told her nothing, so she pressed on. “From then on, I was no longer alone again.” She turned her head to stare at the door to Kord's office. The wooden door was dwarven, thick and polished with use.

“Even knowing Cyrus has made me stronger,” she whispered, her eyes still narrowed on the heavy door. But, Erelyn was looking inward, Finn's voice filling her head.

See things as they are.

Her mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds, but Erelyn couldn't get the words right in her head. Damn, if only he could read her mind! She clenched her jaw, her hand tightening around his at the same time. She paused, took a deep breath, and began again.

“I have my father's conviction. I have Kordrion's insight. I have your mama's devotion. I have Ron's clarity. I have Finn's wisdom. I have your father's precision. I have Turrick's determination. I have your strength.” She paused. When did her heart start beating so rapidly? Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths and she realized she was panting. She twisted her head slightly to look down at Lahkin again.

“Do you see? I have all this because we're all connected. Without them, I'd just be …. “

One.

“And if we take those away from … him … “ she waved a hand, forgetting to name the beast aloud. “Then he'd be just … one.”

Alone.

Gentyl had asked Kod to attend the war council. She remained quiet through most of it. As usual, it soon spiraled into bickering from those who attended to make their views known about how wrong those who rode to war were and those trying to herd cats into some kind of cohesive fighting unit.

Miragule ranted about the attacks bringing down the wrath of the horde on Darkshire and Gentyl pondered why the horde would focus their anger there when they had a wealth of targets to hit. He demanded protection for Darkshire if the council hit any horde holdings and yet the previous week there seemed to be some flak with Stormwind City Watch about them having no jurisdiction there. The Cabal and Night Watch would take care of Darkshire. No outside help or enforcement was wanted or needed. Now, there were demands for protection. Finally, weary of the diatribe, she spoke up. "Pia answers defense calls. If the horde hit Darkshire, or anywhere else, we try to answer."

"I've never seen Pia defend Darkshire," he snapped.

"Then perhaps you were asleep when we drove Modas out of Darkshire the last time. We will continue to defend as we have always done."

Ragefang was getting irritated. He made an impassioned speech about the horde supporting Sylvanas and Garrash. It was bluster and bluff. They would continue to focus targets with a reason, but she decided not to say anything. The meeting was already getting out of hand and nothing was being accomplished.

Kod remained after the others left. "Lady Gentyl," he said at last, "do these meetings still have merit?"

It was a simple question and one she had been pondering herself. She attended to try and offer a bit of reason when things went too far astray. Ragefang could be a bit of a loose cannon. They didn't need some other firebrand coming in and inflaming an already volatile subject.

"Not really," she said. "I attend mainly to make sure they are not turned into a tool that would destroy the efforts to unite into a decent fighting force."

Truth be known, it was probably time to stop the war councils. They had degenerated into a platform for people who just wanted to come and complain and most of those same people were never available when either offense or defense was needed. Plus, it was still painfully obvious there were people there feeding information to the horde. She doubted people were feeding attack information to the horde, though that was possible. What concerned her more was spies feeding attitudes and words to the horde. They could use the information to drive a wedge and that was the biggest danger.

Either way, she was not going to waste Kod's time attending any more of them. He was quick to defend. He was a staunch ally to Pia and he would lay his sword at a call. That was all she needed to know.

He knelt. She sighed. She hated it when people knelt to her aside from the knighting ceremony. We do not lightly bend our knee, and yet this man she could never hope to match in skill knelt to her. "Kod, stop."

He did not. He would remain until she bade him rise, so she did. "No more of this bickering. We only feed our enemies."

He nodded and turned to leave. "You have only to call and I will answer."

If only she had known how true the words would be.

She received a copy of the letter written by Genevra's priestess hours after it had been posted in the tavern.

And anything in between them and their assaults will also be washed away in that endless sea of blood. If it bears the red banner, it will die. They do not care about collateral damage; a merchant of the Crossroads, to them, is now as viable a target as a guardsman or soldier.

How thoughtful of her to attend a war council meeting pick the most provocative discussions and focus on that alone. Was she equally aghast at the attacks on the exodar where women and children died and were kidnapped? Did she have any thought to the women and children slain and kidnapped in Darkshire? Was she concerned about the nearly hundred hearts that had been harvested or the assault on Lakeshire with troll spirits? Where was she during the plague attack?

Oh, yes, that was different. That obviously stemmed from a misunderstanding. It surely wasn't the fault of the horde those people clambered onto horde mounts so they could see the sights of whatever hellhole the horde took them to.

Surely those sixty dismembered bodies were simply an accident.

Hypocritical wench. Why wasn't she locked up for treason?

Tal'rada had returned several days later, with a letter that she gave to the Warden. She read it over, taking a moment to look over the scathing manifesto against the undead worgen and the paladin. She folded it over once and stowed it beneath her cloak.

"Nothing to say, Warden?"

Kyalin only shrugged. "As I recall, Tal'rada, you asked me once why the humans continually fail to send us their aid. You now have your answer.

"The following notice was tacked to the call board in Darnassus a day later, written in Darnassian:

Consider the two scenarios:

1)An uncle drowns his nephew, pushing the child’s head under the water until the child stops breathing.

2)An uncle watches his nephew drown, able to act, but not willing to.


In Stormwind, Ironforge, or other kingdoms of the Alliance, a distinction may be made to call one action a murder and the other an act of negligence. In form they differ on the basis that the uncle was not directly involved, but in substance they are the same. Were I to see either, I would treat the uncle as a murderer without fuss or question, for that is exactly what he in each case is.

Recently, there has been controversy over acceptable actions and targets in the current war. While the Horde has in no way extended mercy or restraint toward any of our people, and have made very clear that they seek our extermination, Eastern interests have decried the targeting of ancillary outposts, trading posts, and suppliers, saying that they have nothing to do with the war.

Plain murder should always be condemned, but so too should the deliberate failure to act if the actor has the ability to prevent murder. The call not to strike at provinces and nations which knowingly and willingly supply the Horde with soldiers, weapons, and supplies is an endorsement for the latter action: to allow the Orcish Horde the supplies that they require to continue to firebomb villages, send forsaken into barrow dens, blow up druidic schools and to torture your brothers and sisters to death for the “crime” of existing on land that the Horde wants for its own. It regrettably, does not surprise me that certain humans apparently care more about the welfare of goblin businessmen and unscrupulous blood elves than they do of their own ‘allies’, but it makes their calls no less despicable, and completely detached from the reality of a war that we are bearing the weight of.

This controversy, while absurd, does raise another question: that of those who supply the Horde from within our own borders. The massacre at the Wrathgate brought into being one of the few examples of human-like ‘statute’ that we all are bound to follow: the ongoing trade embargo between our people and the Horde. I should have to remind no one, but I will, that to break this embargo is to directly harm your own, and those who do so shall be treated no differently than the killers that they supply.

-Warden Kyalin Raintree.

After flying from Moonglade, Eidan Zherron entered the threshold of the Seat of the Naaru, looking at wonder at the great crystalline creature. But it was the figure before the naaru that caught his attention - attired in his best battle armor, holding a massive hammer. The emblem of the Argent Crusade gleamed in golden thread from his tabard.

"Eidan." The armored figure did not move, still facing the naaru - his back showed to the druid. "I have been expecting you. Are you here to assassinate me after all?"

"You know I'm not, Lord Saavedro."

Saavedro smiled as he turned. "No, I expected not. You are a loose cannon...but you know how to keep your word." His smile faded. "The situation with Artimus, and Gentyl. Is it as serious as it seems?"

"How did --" Zherron stopped. "The hearthstone," he realized, remembering how he had spoken to Genevra. "You bugged my hearthstone?"

Saavedro shrugged. "Your hearthstone is attuned to mine, yes. As is Amendera's." His expression was grim. "My chiefest concern was a war between Hearthglen and Undercity. Now it is a war within the Alliance as a whole. If these war criminals can be brought down from their perches of power, the situation could be averted - for the short term. The long term will depend on Varian and Garrosh. Varian may be influenced by Anduin and his compassion, but he may not. Garrosh is too far gone. They will be far on the horizon...it is Ragefang and Gentyl who are now here on the threshold."

"You may be accused of treason, my lord - Gentyl may try to have you tried."

"And I will laugh in her face. I do not fear what Gentyl will do to me, because what she can do to me is nothing. It is what I fear she and her ilk will do to the Alliance that concerns me." Saavedro gazed evenly at the Packleader. "And Artimus?"

"Narnicka is chasing him down. I tried to warn him that he and Genevra could end up dead in the reprisals - I told you what happened to me when I attacked Elisienne and Turrick. If he kills Artimus, he's dead. Period."

Saavedro sighed. "I fear I have stirred a hornet's nest, Eidan. But one that has long needed stirring." He smiled. "Come to bring me home, as it were?"

"Stormwind might not be a good idea right now...but I do know some people who would benefit from your aid."

He had denied the crime in public for more than forty years, but the rumors of patricide were indeed true. His father was a greedy, self-centered drunk, wasting the King's money every moment he ruled in Brill. It was then that he had made the difficult decision. He killed his father in his own parlor, during a drunken tirade. The old fool had not seen it coming, and Terenas didn't suspect a thing. His preparations had been meticulous.

Artimus Devaneaux had staked most of his personal reputation on being able to make difficult decisions. When Saavedro had originally come to Northrend hunting for him, Artimus had originally intended to lure the paladin into a trap in Azjol-Nerub. The trap laid, however, was for Artimus himself - speared through the heart by the crypt king Anub'arak and raised a knight of the Scourge. When General Korogh Madeyes, one of Magni's field commanders, had tried to have him extradited to Ironforge so he could be executed there - believing that the offer of amnesty only applied in Stormwind - Artimus was prepared to do it. It was only Saavedro's intercession to King Varian, remarking that the amnesty was meant to cover the Alliance as a whole, that saved him from the block. And when the dwarf general had refused to give up his vendetta and challenged him in the Grizzly Hills, Artimus had been forced to kill him, and deposited his body in the sea from onboard the Sword of Acherus during a return journey to Stormwind, where the currents would take it to the Maelstrom. No one was any wiser - they still suspected the general missing.

Standing on the deck of the Sword now, as it set out from Stormwind south around Stranglethorn and north again to the abandoned harbor at King's Point near New Avalon, Artimus gazed seaward, collecting his thoughts. He preferred the sea route with his personal vessel whenever he wanted to meditate en route to Lordaeron...one detail Zherron would not have been able to tell the Stoneheardts. Not even Gentyl knew he kept the ship, a holdover from his brief excursion into piracy during the war in Northrend.

He knew what Saavedro would think of his actions against Genevra; the man would be horrified, even if he was concerned at the presence of a Forsaken in the priestess' inner circle. He knew Narnicka would hunt for him - the man was obsessively protective. And he knew Gentyl would condemn him...she moved whichever direction the wind turned, it seemed to him. But the evidence was clear enough: Nynra was a spy, and if Genevra refused to turn her in, she was a traitor. So were anyone who supported her. Traitors, all of them.

Gentyl will understand my actions, he thought. She has no love for Genevra, or for her family. But...if she does not understand, then she will hang along with the traitors. His expression was one of a man resigned to the difficult task ahead. And so will I.

She hadn't cried in years.

When her sister had destroyed her previous life, all that she knew, when all that she touched had withered, she had wept. Yet she held her emotions in check afterwards; she did not weep when she fell in Northrend, resting without regret. Nor was she angry or torn when she was raised by the necromancer that found her. She did not weep when she hid within Homeland, fearing for her life. And she did not weep when she left Homeland so that she could return to the Alliance, to her old home.

And she could not weep now; the dead do not cry. Yet for all it was worth she attempted tears, her face buried in her bony, rotting fingers, her raptor hatchling Razi nuzzling her leg comfortingly, the tiny creature upset that his friend was sad.

Nynra had not wanted to cause this trouble. She was simply afraid for the innocent, even if they were Horde. She feared for those that were too weak or too young to defend themselves, as well as those that she knew were simply tradesmen and wanderers.

Not all of them deserve to die. Not all of them are murderers and killers.

Yet it was because of her compassion, though perhaps rash it was, that she had caused strife within her old home. And she knew they would hate her and hunt her. She knew that they would most likely want her dead as well. She was ready for that, however.

The Light will provide. If I am to die, then I will die.

Even then... she could not help but cry. She held hope that she would not have to die to the council, but regardless of the outcome, she would follow her fate. At least she had nothing to regret.

The candle on Orwyn's desk had burnt down to almost nothing by the time he finished looking over the competing proclamations and messages that had been gathered from agents in the field.

Orwyn picked up the broadside from Mr. Saavedro again and nodded approvingly. About time someone finally called out the warmongers. Orwyn had seen enough vigilante justice in his younger days to last a lifetime. Too often, including this case with the Alliance attacks in response to Modas' deprivations, the true perpetrators escaped and the ones who were punished were simply the ones who didn't run fast enough.

Orwyn frowned as he recalled how he repeatedly tried to turn the focus towards punishing those who had committed atrocities, both Horde and Alliance, and met with little success. Well, perhaps now the winds were shifting. If the leadership in Stormwind changed its tune towards the vigilantes and decided to openly condemn, rather than tacitly support them...

Orwyn allowed himself a small smile as he relished that though. A strong letter to the King's Prosecutor arguing for Watch involvement in the matter was in order. As long as criminals on both sides were inciting violence, Stormwind's citizens would not be safe.

The sound of his office clock striking 3am roused Orwyn from his thoughts. He stood and yawned, as the flame of the candle sputtered. Wearily he headed downstairs to the duty room. That letter would only be the first of many that would need to be written, and as important as they were, their role in the quest for justice currently took a back seat to an absolutely vital replacement candle and cup of coffee.

Lahkin felt a pounding headache starting somewhere in his left temple. It had been cropping up more and more recently, and he felt that couldn't be a good thing.

Kaellar and Jonathan had delivered their reports. He had spoken with his mother and father, too, one of them sounding awfully calm for the circumstances, and the other flying-off-the-handle hopping-mad. Finnaeus, Erelyn, and Kordrion had all given him their advice--Kordrion somewhat more irritably than usual, though that was probably an understatement. Finally Aorune had wished to see him personally for his opinions.

Lahkin was so full of advice he thought he might explode, and it still didn't get him any closer to where he wanted to be. Was it normal for ten different problems to be going on at once in the same order?

No, not ten different problems...maybe just three. But it sure felt like ten. At least his people had quieted and listened when he gave his orders.

Nynra was to be found and questioned, by the Terra and the Conclave. Jonathan had stressed letting Ragefang and Gentyl speak to her too, but Lahkin wasn't so sure. Not yet. Gentyl didn't have a very strong hand over her own soldiers, as shown by Artimus' actions, and Ragefang was, well, Ragefang. If after his own talk with Nynra he was satisfied, he'd invite them in. Or let Nynra go to the Horde under oath never to come back. Or kill her himself. He hoped not that last one. Light knew.

The other man Lahkin wanted to speak to was Saavedro. His name kept coming up, and Artimus' own accusations against Genevra were partly because the man was missing. Except he was NOT missing; Genevra had spoken with him earlier in the day...

And so Lahkin was suspicious. To be missing but not missing, enough to spur one man to murderous action and everyone else to, well, not so murderous action--something was up. And he had a feeling Saavedro would be able to tell him. If the man didn't pull his missing act on the Terrans, either...

Lahkin sighed. The Terrans had their orders, now he had to hope they would carry them out in due time. In the meanwhile, there were other pressing concerns. The strange undead in the Eastern Plaguelands, for one, and the Modas--like that one was ever NOT a concern.

And the trouble brewing in his own family. He would protect his mother to his dying breath--what son wouldn't?--but he also worried about the other side. Erelyn had been terrified at the thought that her father was behind this, even if in support and not so much in spurring it. Lahkin understood the concern.

Too much infighting. The Modas had even succeeded in splitting families now by not much more than a gesture in their direction. Dustwing would be so proud...except not really.

The headache was getting worse.

She would never forget the sight of her father's intestines hanging outside the gash in his stomach. Everything before that moment just blurred: the bitter exchange with Kordrion, securing a place for Nynra to be safe until she could be questioned, and the sharp words she'd had with Taelanas just moments before he flew away from the Wildhammer keep.

And Aziel had attacked him.

She'd heard Taelanas calling out to her over the universal hearthstone. Across the valley, in the mountains, south of Aerie Peak. She'd missed him on her initial pass. The Modasi had come and gone.

Now, Erelyn stood outside the surgery in Mardenholde Keep, just waiting. What else could she do? She couldn't close her eyes. If she did, she just saw Taelanas' guts lolling out over his abdomen, again. And again.

So, she just stood there. No Lahkin. No Kordrion. Not even aware she was covered from head to foot in Taelanas' blood. She shut herself off from the songs of A'dal, V'eru, and O'ros. What good would any of it do?

She sat outside the tavern, the drink on the table in front of her long having gone cold. The encounter in Ratchet opened as many new questions as the few answers she got. Along with one big one that bothered her. Why? Why did she care? Technically it was treason, she had every right and duty to report her, hell killing her on the spot would have been justified.

"because she's right" she muttered to herself. No, that's not totally it. Because of the Undercity. It had been a simple mission-get in, plant the recorders, get out. The whole thing had gone pear shaped ten seconds in. What she deserved for trusting the intel of those idiots at SI-7. One of the Lich Queen's dark rangers had gotten her good, the arrow close to severing her leg, thigh bone broken, and they were hunting her to finish her off. Not that they'd have to, she was bleeding out so fast that it was a toss up what she'd die from, the forsaken or blood loss. But she didn't. she remembered the feeling of the light, closing the wound, slowing the blood loss..not enough to heal her totally..but enough for her to have enough time to cast the teleportation spell. It probably wasn't the same one, the odds on that were so low..but it was someone. Someone who had stuck their neck out for her. And now she was pondering doing the same for someone else. Chuckling softly, she left a few coins on the table for her drink and grasping her cane, got to her feet. It was like Three said when they offered spy for her. If you can't do what's smart, do whats right.

A letter was sent to Lahkin's office in Aerie Peak:

To Commander Lahkin Stoneheardt -

Call off the search. He is en route.

E.Z.

"Eidan! Eidan!"

Zherron turned to see his breathless lieutenant, Amendera Kynes. "Dera, what happened?"

"Showdown...in the Stockade! Gentyl...tried to arrest Lord Devaneaux! Banished him! He escaped to the necropolis!"

"A fugitive?" Zherron cursed. He WAS mad - now he had turned on Gentyl! "Alert the Watch! Now!"

"The Watch?"

"Artimus Devaneaux is guilty of assaulting citizens of the Alliance, including a priestess of Stormwind. He is to be apprehended alive if possible. I will go to Lord Saavedro. This has gone too far!"

"At once, Packleader!"

The day had been quiet, pleasantly so. Unfortunately that meant that somewhere someone was conspiring to stop him from his paperwork. Almost as if on queue a young worgen woman burst into Orwyn's office requesting to make a report of a fugitive. As if there weren't enough problems for the watch these days. Dutifully the warlock pulled out the required forms sliding them across to the girl to fill out.

~

Wanted: Baron Artimus Devaneaux

Crime: Assault upon Genevra Stoneheardt, resident of lakeshire and priestess of the church and Gentyl Turncutt Resident of ... (A post script in Clavishion's hand "Lady Turncutt is of late known to reside within the walls of Hearthglen.") as well as making threats upon said persons.

Status: Subject fled the scene when members of the Pia Presidium attempted apprehension reportedly back to the Ebon Hold.

Description: The subject is reported to be a human male in his late 50s, deceased and risen again as one of the undying. He has shoulder length white hair, glowing blue eyes and above average height with a Goatee.

Threat assessment: Approach with the caution normally granted to any of the deathknights.

~

After dropping the report on Orwyn's desk he turned again to the second form he had the girl fill out and started on yet another report.

~

Concerned party: Amendera Kynes, 19

Residence: The Howling Oak, Darnassus; lodging at the Skinner's house, Goldshire.

References: Packleader Eidan Zherron, residing at the Skinner's House, Goldshire. Lord Saavedro of Strathholme, Residing at the Cathedral Square, Stormwind.

~

Nodding to himself Clavishion dropped the second page on Orwyn's desk before frowning and tidying it up some, a messy office was not conducive to productivity after all.

D'Ar Thora read the report of the two Pia guards intercepting Horde and eliminating them. Apparently they had been using the cities deep tram to Iron Forge as a base from which to strike. Had they accessed it from the Dwarf quarter? Or did they gain access from the Dwarven Capital? If they had how had they done it without being detected? She picked up and read the report again, then looked across her desk to the bill for for the clean up of the tavern in Goldshire.. She had just the two she thought to herself.

"Who better to send chasing sewer rats right now". She wrote up the order and descended the stairs to find a courier to deliver her orders. "Take these to Odli Goodwater in Goldshire, you'll find him in the tavern, don't leave until he has read them understand?"

The young trooper nodded then left, D'Ar Thora watched him go and pondered if they were gaining access to the Tram without alerting the Guard to their presense, then they had to be getting some form of assistance, and if that was the case... she turned back into the entranceway. Still too many unanswered questions and not enough answers and the storm clouds were almost upon them. The Alliance which had held together for so long was showing signs of cracking. Infighting, bickering, accusations and counter accusations, as if the conflict with the Horde was not enough.