World of Warcraft®

Duskwood-Evening
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A young woman strolled down the road, kicking her imp as she went. "Always am I forced to do the dirty work. Why doesn't SHE do the work around here?" Her griping was soon stopped however as she came to the crossroads. There before her tracks stood what she could only tell was a vision of perfect beauty. Surely an elf that she had heard so much about. The Elf was shimmering between planes of existence, smiling at her. He held out a leaf of parchment, bound in wax seal that pulsated like a beating heart. Wary, the woman approached.

Transfixed, she could not believe her eyes. And the closer she approached him, the more she felt hypnotized by his stern and stoic gaze.

"You will take this...." he had said in nearly perfect common "To the Pia Presidium." Yes, you will take this message to that woman Gentyl... let them know what's coming. Let them know what lurks in the darkness. He wove his magic and placed a spell over her, having her travel to the Blue Recluse to deliver his message of ill will to to that Damnable Holy Order that besmirched his honor and his name.

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Hearthglen-2 days later.
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The skies turned black as space and time were distorted over the bastion of Light that was Hearthglen. A dubious spell had been cast as not far away stood a lithe Sin'dorei mage weaving his hands through the air as if pulling at invisible strings. The air crackled with energy and a buzzing hum came washed over the land. Several lay dead and others lay gasping for air as their bodies had become covered in bright glittering runes that twisted taut into the flesh of the unsuspecting guard.

"Yes, let them suffer the might of my arcane formulas..let them feel the pain of the puzzle runes as they twist and absorb their life's energy. Let the Light of the Holy Order be extinguished and may it fall to its knees in reverence to true power." As the elf's robes whipped up in a flurry of ethereal magic wind, he spoke in scathing tones his hatred of the Presidium, how he hoped they would pay and pay dearly for their crimes. Finishing his task he looked up as a large bird swooped down and transformed into a tall woman that plunged at him with her dagger, causing him to turn on his heel and vanish in the blink of an eye. His voice echoing into the darkness "PIA!! I COME FOR YOU!!! WITH ALL OF THE POWERS OF CHAOS!!"
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Somewhere near the top of the library-tower, Vanyris sat amongst several piles of neatly organized books, five of them spread open before him on a table, along with a teakettle. In his hands he holds a teacup close to his lips, eyes darting back and forth across the pages. On ocassion, he makes the slightest gesture with one finger, the pages flipping - sometimes several at once.

Sometime during this time period, an alarm rang out, and a bewildered guard ran up the stairs, shouting some form of warning in Common. Vanyris, in turn, replied in Thalassian - not due to a lack of knowledge of the language, but likely out of a sort of contempt, given his ever-polite but somewhat condescending tone. "The Crusade or the 'Talons are under attack?"

The man's reply was given in a broken form of the Sin'dorei language, something babbling on about how it seemed to be targetting the Presidium. One of Vanyris' eyebrows slowly tug up in the faintest look of curiousity, however, said look only lasts a moment, ears flicking as he raises a hand as if feeling the air about him. After that moment, he looks rather bored, shooing the man away and returning to his books. "Go then. I will join in due time should necessity arise, after I finish my tea, along with these chapters. For now, however, I am very busy."

There's a slight pause, and eventually he deigns necessary to spare the guard - who now looks somewhere between shocked and appalled - another look for just a moment, as if wondering what possibly could be keeping the fellow here. "Go. Do you not have a job to do? I would not wait up, these tomes have rather lengthy chapters." At that, the Crusader scurried off.

Sometime during the aftermath of the attack, Arothand found himself in the one place he dreaded most.

Behind a desk.

In an office.

It turned out his usual commanding officer had been one of the casualties of the attack, and Arothand was 'respectfully' given the man's position for his service. All the paperwork included.

For today, this included the ever exciting 'count the financial losses in armor repairs and manpower from the attack'. Numbers. Endless numbers. It gave him a migraine. Eventually, there was a knock on his door - it took him a few moments to realize he had to call the man in, as it was -his- office now.

A rather clean-cut, smug looking recruit enterred his office a few moments later - one who had been following in the steps of the Argent Monk. As such, he had been training with Arothand.

He despised the smarmy bastard.

Sauntering up to the man's desk with a look of amusement that the undead Elf had a begrudging feeling was due to his new workload, he handed him a report that filed the information collected on the report.

"Th' !@#$ is this?" The man asked, slowly quirking a brow, fingers clenching into a fist. "The bastion of the Argent Crusade, the very /home/ of Tirion Fordring's attacked, and you bring me a %^-*ty piece of paper that says some unnamed guard /maybe/ saw an Elf?"

"It also reports that the majority of the attack seems to have been directed at the Presidium -"

The recruit didn't manage to say much more. The once-Knight had risen to his feet, crumpling up the report and placing both hands beneath the table, and in one swift motion sent the piece of furniture flying - the recruit cut himself off and ducked, rather unnecessarily and overdramatically at the action, though he did manage to dodge an onslaught of quills, papers, and Lightsworn's new placard.

"They attacked Hearthglen. They attacked the /Crusade/. This paper means -nothing- to me. You will not set foot in my office, you will not /rest/ until you bring me his head on a silver platter with a list of the ancestors he's shamed and a signed bloody apology, do you understand me, recruit?"

The man had dropped the accent, a rather hollow edge clinging to his voice, similar to that often heard in Archerus.

He was not amused.

The other man only managed a meager mutter that sounded something like 'Yessir' before fleeing the office as the ex-Knight began to pick up his things, pausing when he plucks up his placard and giving it something of a look of disdain before begrudgingly shining it.

Some honor.

(Arothand, you have graced my thread with your presence and I am just grinning ear to ear with your reply to these events. I has a happy. :3))

(( I'm always glad to react to ongoing plots!

And don't mind Vany's response. He's just a bit of a stand-offish snob. ))

From the Razortalon's tower a suit of living gold armor is seen sweeping the steeps. It was the suit left to care for the tower in absence of any Razortalons for long periods of time by Orandien.

Sweeping the steps clean of leafs, dust and other dirty filth.The suit hardly notices the disturbance from the attack that has befallen Hearthglen, seeing as it does not breath or have a real body. After finishing the task of cleaning the door way, it stands nodding in approval of it's own work. No longer distracted by the task at hand the suit now notices something is amiss with the guards. They lay on the ground or gasping in pain for some unknown reason.

The armor shows a sense of confusion looking up at the dark sky, as it holds out it's hand to test for rain. Dropping it's hand and shrugging at no sign of rain, the armor picks up it's broom and goes back inside to finish the rest of the chores waiting for it.

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Just outside of the Ruins of Lordaeron - Midnight
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Twisting an glinting orb tightly in his hand, the clever Elf smirked as he watched the chaos begin to unfold. "The puzzle has now begun, and soon, it will play to it's fullest and I, the rogue sorcerer Kael'amand Solarwing, will have shown the power and the might of Chaos! Order through Atrocity, Peace through Fear, faith in the dark order.." Emerald eyes tainted with the dark energies of the fel turned up toward the heavens as he thought of the magic he had unleashed.

Soon, so very soon I shall bring the Presidium the fear that they so justly deserve. Yes, they will know fear even if I must pull together every last enemy they have. They. Will. Pay. Gathering his might, the once magnificent Arch Mage of Dalaran spun the scrying orb that had but moments ago caught his gaze and turned it around it's axis. As Kael'amand rounded the orb he vanished into the night, as if turning about the corner of a building and taking the sphere with him.

Archmagus Zharikov hummed softly to himself whilst placing the finishing touches on a few formulas. He couldn't exactly be considered entirely on-key, and there was hardly much melody to it, but likely enough it was more for the mental memory than actually doing the tune justice that was important to the mage. All in all, a relatively calm and peaceful scene at the very top of the RARI tower.

The arcane magics coalescing and sparking to life bring an end to that. A brow is arched at the beginnings of the spell, his hand instantly leaving his quill to rise up and counter whatever magics that were about to take hold around him, a pulse of arcane dispersing it back to its origins.

The high-elven guard (he did let his preference for guards of the female and elven variety be known while at the same time making a donation, after all), although magically sensitive enough to pick up on the fact something was happening, didn't quite have the know-how to actually counter the spell before it could afflict her.

Fortunately, Raoul had the presence of mind to not dally around after blocking the attack against himself, blinking across the room to the woman's aid as she struggles to fight off the spell. Formerly ghost-lit eyes, now glowing the whitish-purple hue of the arcane, peer over the runes taking life across the woman's skin. "Interesting," he murmurs as bother hands hover over her. "I haven't seen some of these since the reports on Puzzlemaster Leighton's crimes."

Despite his talking, the mage also just so happens to be /actually/ working on solving the rune before it can drain the life from the woman. "Luckily for you," Raoul speaking directly to the elf now. "These are more akin to his latter attempts than his earlier masterpieces." With that, both the glow from his magic and that of the runes around her fade.

Rather than annoyance at his speaking or gratefulness for his assistance, the guard just seems plain confused at first. When that wears off, a simple thank you is offered his way before she excuses herself to go report to her superiors. Idly, after she leaves, the mage too finds himself wondering what in the world all that was about.

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Hearthglen - The Aftermath of the first attack

The runes that plagued every surface of the Glen began to draw from any and all energies they could absorb from the atmosphere or from what they had adhered themselves too. The magic that had formulated them into being seemed not to have been terribly complete. Within the aftermath of the devastation the arcane Runes began to dissipate of their own accord, leaving the casualties at bay with seventeen dead, their runes having split open their skulls and absorbing their life's fluids and at least twenty more severely without breath or bleeding internally.

((I like all the reactions this plot is getting. Arothand, I loved your post and your character, it made me giggle, Raoul, good thinking with the puzzlemaster Leighton. And It's hilarious how the golden suit of armor is so nonchalant about what's going on around it. :3))

Sometime during the aftermath of the attack, Arothand found himself in the one place he dreaded most.

Behind a desk.

In an office.

It turned out his usual commanding officer had been one of the casualties of the attack, and Arothand was 'respectfully' given the man's position for his service. All the paperwork included.

((Orwyn sends his regards and sympathy. ;D

The day had started innocently enough, as most do. Gentyl had been flying on Azul when she heard an angry screech above her and cringed as a shadow passed over them. She looked up to see a wild drake diving directly at them and leaned forward, urging her drake down, away from the attack. Azul shook his head and tried to take the bit in his mouth, but she jerked it back from him. The last thing she needed was him not responding to her.

"Down, Azul. Down." It was an unnecessary whisper as the drake was diving so steeply she had a precarious seat as it was. Without warning, another wild drake attacked from the side and Azul swerved to avoid the talons. Azul swerved, but Gentyl didn't. She went tumbling through the air, graceful as a lump of coal.

Unhindered by her weight, the much larger and heavier drake turned to meet the pair. After a spectacular, but thankfully short, battle the two peeled off and returned to the nearby cliffs. A mating pair, no doubt, protecting their nest. She needed to pay more attention in the future.

Azul shook his head and screeched in victory. The sound echoed off the valley walls and was answered by other drakes, making the valley sing. He circled overhead, gracefully like a leaf on the wind, flapping only occasionally and then glided down to land near her. She started to push herself up, but her left arm gave way.

She'd been so busy watching the fight she hadn't paid attention to the arm since really, she hurt all over. It was broke. Her hand was already swelling uncomfortably in the gauntlet.

Lovely.

Well, she'd go to the clinic and let them fix it. She planned on being there anyway.

She waited outside on Azul, to see if anyone else needed help first. Damn outland dust. She was still sneezing and hacking from making yet another crater.

After the fourth sneeze, Rhudran looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Magdelyn looked at him and then back at Gentyl.

"You're sick," Magdelyn said.

"Just dust," Gentyl replied. "However...." She looked around again. "I think I may have broken my arm."

"Get down," Rhudran said, frowning at her.

Mithara walked out of the clinic. Sauntered was probably a better description. "Let me look at it."

"Stay away from me," Gentyl said as she tried to slide off the drake without bumping the arm. "You'll want to amputate it at the throat."

Mithara huffed. "I'm not going to amputate your arm."

"No, you aren't. Now stay away from me."

Gentyl walked into the clinic and sat down, unbuckling her vambrace. Rhudran felt along the arm and looked up. "It's broken. We'll have to splint it."

She nodded.

A dreanei abserved the proceedings with some interest. "Stone broke."

Gentyl looked up.

"Stone in arm broke," he said.

She had met him before. His name was Vahru and he was a shaman and for the most part she had a lot of faith in shamans. Except horde shamans. The only faith she had in them was their ability to kill her.

Rhudran finished setting her arm. Gentyl finished telling Mithara to stay away from her and Vahru finished praying over her arm.

With the excitement over and the clinic over, Gentyl headed to the Recluse to see if anyone had discovered any clues to the relics and to pay Charitye's bill.

She had just barely sat down when the woman walked in, looking around the tavern. She was neatly dressed in a black suit. "I'm looking for someone from the Presidium."

Gentyl raised her right hand. "I'm Gentyl. I'm with the Presidium."

"I have a message for you."

((Edit, Rhudran headed the clinic this week and set the bone. sorry))

The messenger had a certain vacant expression that bothered Gentyl. She'd seen it before. Usually it was the result of some sort of mind control, and Pia had a lot of experience with that. There were constant attempts to mind control people in the Guard and even more with sending mind-controlled people after them in one kind of attack or another. Not long ago, a rogue had shown up wanting information about where one of the Guards were. When Gentyl became suspicious, she gave him nonsense, nursery rhyme information and he kept making notes as if it were all completely serious instructions.

Life was always interesting in Pia.

Her same warning senses were going off now even under the influence of a pain potion for the broken arm.

She took out a small jeweled dagger and flipped it between her fingers. Most people had at least a hesitation if not a physical reaction to the dagger being drawn. The messenger simply stood there, her hand outstretched with the glowing envelope in her hand. Gentyl sliced a lemon into four precise wedges and then wiped off the blade and put it back in her belt. She squeezed a wedge into her tea and looked across the table at the other guards who were sitting with her. They, too, seemed a bit attentive.

"I have a message for you," the courier repeated and extended her hand further.

"Could you open it for me?" Gentyl held her splinted arm up.

The courier automatically opened the letter without hesitation. Immediately she was covered with a dark, flowing, arcane magic. Black runes crawled over her like vipers racing from a disturbed nest. The woman screamed in pain and collapsed on the floor. Her fingers stretched out and a few, pained words escaped her lips. The letter incinerated, stopping the flow of magic, but the runes still projected on her prone form.

Gentyl, and everyone else in the room, had jumped to their feet to get away from the whorling magic. "The fel?"

The woman got to her feet, her features twisted into a malevolent smile. "Ever the cautious witch. You've escaped this time, but not forever. I am coming for you. You and your order will be destroyed. Hearthglen will be destroyed. I am coming. Kael'Amand will end you."

Gentyl sent a squire to find someone from the Watch. It was a typical thorough investigation.

"Who is Kael'Amand," Grilem asked.

"A blood elf who tried to attack Sister Magdelyn. We removed the curse he put on her. I guess he objected to our meddling preservation of one of our own."

"Why would he attack her?"

Gentyl shrugged. "Who knows? My people are always targets."

They arrested the woman, who probably wouldn't remember anything of what had happened. Charitye, in typical Charitye fashion, came in as they were trying to gather ashes of the letter for evidence, sniffed of the remaining soot, flopped down and rolled around in it like a dog rolls in the carcass of a rotting animal.

That did not end well.

Not long after the messenger tried to deliver the tainted letter to Gentyl, the attack occurred. Gentyl had warned the Guards to keep a sharper lookout, but they had been called away on an emergency. Broodin was missing. Well, missing wasn't exactly the right term. He was mostly missing. Discocsis was retrieving his parts as they searched for more, searched for the person who had blown him to bits and searched for a reason.

The last bit proved to be the easiest to solve. He had eaten two gnomes and was chasing a puppy across a field when someone had cast divine justice all over him. In this case, divine justice came in the form of a contraption that malfunctioned.

"I have 91.8% of him," Disco proudly announced.

"What are we going to do with 92% of a druid," she asked.

"91.8%" Disco corrected.

"Forgive me, 91.8%. I still don't understand what good that's going to do."

"My scrapbots performed admirably," Disco said. "I'm amazed they were able to recover this much."

"Yes, well..." Gentyl peered under a bush for Broodin bits. "what good is that going to do? We can't resurrect 91.8% of someone."

"I've been thinking about it," he replied. "I can fill in the missing parts with cheese."

Gentyl straightened and rubbed her cheek where a branch had left a deep scratch. "Cheese? Did I hear you right?"

"Yes, cheese. It will disintegrate with time and he will die a more or less natural death. It's the least I can do for my fellow gnomes. Most of us have smelled the vile mess that is his stomach." He frowned and made gagging motions.

"If you just want to kill him, why are you helping him?"

"The Light demands that I do so," he replied, looking at her as if she were a bit daft.

It was then the overwrought Fal called over the hearthstone. "Hearthglen has been attacked, my lady."

Gentyl sighed. How many times did she need to explain she was low born, not a Lady?

"On my way, " Gentyl replied. "Is it still being attacked? "

"No the attack is over but there were several killed and more wounded."

"Continue the search," she aid to the remaining Guards. "We must find that other 9%"

"8.2%" Disco corrected.

"Whatever," Gentyl replied and then ran out the door to get her drake.

The destruction was worse than she had feared. She could see smoke rising form Hearthglen long before she landed. Fal stood near the keep with Simonia. Fal pointed to a dark splotch on the ground. "Best avoid that, Sepha."

She nodded and move the drake sideways so she could dismount on safe ground, if there was such a thing. The majority of the smoke was rising from the stables where a stack of hay had caught fire and was burning rapidly and with great protest. It could be worse. It could be bodies.

Runes floated up lazily from the tainted areas on the ground. She needed confirmation about the dead and wounded before she proceeded. "The butcher's bill?"

Simonia cocked her head to the side, unfamiliar with the term.

"How many dead and wounded," Gentyl said.

"Six dead, fourteen wounded," Fal replied.

Gentyl whistled under her breath. "That's horrible. What kind of a fiend would do this."

Fal looked at her. "A blood elf named Kael'Amand? He seemed quite content to make sure you knew who was doing it."

Gentyl shook her head. Not one of these people deserved this kind of revenge. It was on her alone. "I know of him. We thwarted his plans to control Magdelyn. She looked at the two women. Were any of the Guards hurt?"

((oof falling asleep. I will have someone post the remainder of this.