World of Warcraft®

In the midst of the morning in glorious Stormwind City all is quiet, though picking up with the usual hustle and bustle the day would soon bring. Gemmaria was one of the few that had been up before the crack of dawn, and would remain in her state of toil until far after night fell. Ever since her husband had suffered casualty to Deathwing's tantrum, she alone was responsible for feeding their surviving four offspring.

A basket in her arm, she made her way to Stormwind Keep to deliver the rolls she had pulled from the oven not half an hour ago, being sure they were as fresh as could be. 'Only the best for my king,' she thought. Her worn shoes brought her to the winding stone stairs as a menagerie of people had gathered about the fountain.

To her dismay, what she saw before her could only have been described as a joke, a prank. The crowd swelled as she simply stared at the image, trying to make sense of it.

The statue of King Varian Wrynn now donned a shade of crimson upon his lips, a few drops from the paint having dribbled down his neck. It wasn't foretold whether or not this was to symbolize blood-thirst or simple lip rouge. The baker's eyes traveled down to his chest where a pair of what appeared to be red targets were drawn. Finally grasping the graffiti's meaning, her hand immediately covered her mouth in shock.

"Who would do such a thing," she murmured into her hand, brows knitting in disappointment. The crowd began to part as a few guards ushered them away to their tasks. A few chuckled, a few seemed horrified, most were simply silent with astonishment. As the crowd cleared, finally the last of the defacement could be seen.

Across the base of the statue, the word "SHAM" had been written in the same red paint. The woman swallowed, face relaxing into neutrality as she simply shook her head, making her way toward the keep to bring the king and his son their favorite rolls.

((This was in fact done ICly. For those interested in investigating, by all means, reply. It's encouraged.))

((Wow, no one? :( Was hoping to spark some RP from this, but oh well.))

She gripped the wyvern's reins tightly, leaning forward and propping her chin against the beast's head. Her lips pursed as she huffed a breath out, her nose wrinkling as a bit of the mane made it's way to her mouth.

"Disgusting," she muttered, spitting several times as she lifted the ornate spyglass to her better eye. She chuckled softly as the beast gave a throaty growl. "I know. It's my fault. I dragged you through that tree not paying attention. I'll have you bathed, but I need to see this for myself first."

She adjusted in the saddle, the tip of her tongue touching the middle of her upper lip. A flick of her finger against a small wheel set into the spyglass brought the distant statue into focus, the city that sat far, far below now brought within viewing range.

"Have to love engineering," she mumbled, brows knitting.

A small smirk found her lips as she watched the goings on, the area in the court nearly empty save for a few patrolling guards. It took several moments of observance, but the remnants of what had been left on the statue the night prior were still visible, if only barely so.

"I'll be damned," she said, the smirk splitting to a wide, devilish grin. Her right brow arched high as she sat up, shifting again to balance in the saddle. "So it is true."

A tug on the leather straps set the wyvern in motion, night air pressing against them as the Knight coiled closer to him. The lights of the city far below soon faded, the tiny quickly becoming the unseen.

"A fresh coat of that shade must have been so beautiful on such a beast."

[[Between deciding which character to use for this … *waves arms in air madly and cackles* Thank you for posting an open roleplay thread here, it's always nice to see roleplay-related topics. Also, it helps if I post with the right avatar XD]]

Once you became a visitor, Stormwind wasn’t so bad. It was easy to turn a blind eye to the beggars and elves too stupid to understand how clothing worked. Finally being freed from this place meant that Nozz didn’t need to worry about keeping her little corner clean of vermin – it rested completely on the city now. And if that meant a giant sewer rat marched in and took over as king, well then –

Well …

The crowd of people gathered around the statue made her stop. It wasn’t because crowds were unusual in front of the keep, it was because many were gesturing at Varian’s statue and talking in hushed, excited tones about the paint and what it suggested.

Nozz adjusted her monocle while her clockwork eye zoomed in on the details. She took her time quietly studying the statue, all the while frowning.

It was easy to get on the Varian hate-tram that everyone else was on and had been on for a long time. Some people didn’t have the baseline intelligence to keep their mouths shut in inappropriate venues. Up until the Twilight cultists’ infiltration of Stormwind, Nozz had never cared either way for Varian if only because he was human. But his actions during that time had earned some measure of respect from the gnome, even if she still felt he could have afforded to be more … heavy handed with the situation.

She clucked her tongue once, curious as to why the paint remained. It seemed the offensive markings would have been removed immediately, whether through manual labor or by mage’s hand. Did Varian intend to leave it this way, if only for a little while? And for what purpose?

Intrigued, Nozz decided her plans to stripmine Deepholm could wait. Instead, the black-clad gnome slipped into the press of the crowd, eyes and ears open for clues and gossip.

A hunched figure stalked past the dispersing crowd at the keep. His wolfish muzzle turned up towards the sky, taking short sniffs of the air. Too many smells. He caught whiffs of piss and ink and sweat, and something more pleasant, like fresh bread.

It reminded him of home.

He wanted to get a closer look at the statue. It seemed familiar. He had vibrant memories of this place, but there were no colors. He could remember a small figure with goggles, a great blue horned creature, and many humans...

Tymerlain examined the base of the statue, then peered up at the face. He couldn't understand what had drawn so much attention. It was just a great piece of stone carved into the shape of a man.

Why were there no worgen statues in this city? They would surely be revered, not jeered at.

San'ath could not help himself! The whispers spread like wildfires, he just had to see what was going on.-- He crept through the Stormwind paths, not daring approaching the main gates and take the risk of getting caught, he eyed the defiled statue with much delight, cackling to himself.

" This man- whoever he is, is now my hero. "

He crossed his arms over his chest before figuring he was risking his position too much. His grin stayed plastered on his face as he crept away.

Later in the evening, the weary baker made her way toward the Keep once more, the crowd of voices becoming more audible. To her dismay, the crowd had become more hostile, appearing to protest the removal of the vandalism that had been done. Drawing a breath, her eyes met the seven guards who looked at one-another, listless as to what their next action would be next.

"It was only a matter of time," one man cried at the guards, defending his post. A woman behind him jeered, raising her fist in the air, "We sacrifice our lives for Stormwind City, but what have we received in return except turmoil!?"

Another robed individual approached from inside the keep, pulling two guards aside with a beckoning finger, as if trying to keep a low profile. Gemmaria looked over, but paid them no mind being more concerned about the slanderous citizens.

"He wastes our taxes in war instead of helping those who have lost! Those who are starving and suffering outside the city walls! Those who he swore to protect," shouted the woman once more.

For those able to hear, the robed man began to speak lowly, but clearly, "We've found evidence of an infiltration, though not much." The guards listened intently, "Our scouts have stated that there was a lingering scent of baked goods and leather this morning. What's also been stated is that the person who did this was careless with the paint, but left no other evidence to his or her trail." He drew a breath as one of the pair of guards inquired, "Do we have any leads?"

The man shook his head, "None. We do not know if this is to cause havoc in the city as a statement against the king or if someone was simply desecrating his majesty's statue out of boredom." The weathered man rubbed his face in frustration, "I've sent for back-up. I want this crowd controlled at any cost and dispersed. Arrest who resists, but try not to kill anyone." The man's face looked back to the painted mouth, wincing, "This needs to be cleaned up as soon as humanly possible."

The pair of guards nodded as they made their way back to the other five, several more coming to the area in a march, carrying heavy shields and weaponry as if ready to fight another army. This did not bode well for anyone. No one at all.

With a saddened sigh, the baker left the scene to go home, the riots growing louder in sound, covering her ears and running as the fleeting sounds of footsteps, metal, and screams erupted from the courtyard.

Malakoji snorted, adjusting the tint on his goggles as he watched the commotion. "Do dey suffer dis kind of dissent all da time? How do dey get anyt'ing done?"

He kicked the bones beneath him. "Stupid beast. Go higher- I can' quite see de look on dey faces from 'ere." The frostwyrm snorted as Mal began laughing. "Can' wait to tell da others. Dey gunna laugh and laugh."

His toes curled around the spikes welded onto Masha's armor as the two sped away.