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To the Humans who run screaming from us, or attack us outright, never pausing to think that we may be former friends or family, we don't want you.

To the Dwarves who dig on our graves and disturb our resting places, only to scream so shrilly when we enforce our territory, we don't want you.

To the Nightelves who ruin the world over and over. We don't want you.

To the alien Dranei who don't belong. We don't want you.

To the Gnomes, with their constant meddling in things they cannot hope to control. We don't want you.

To the Worgen fools who willingly took on a curse of savagery in a misguided effort to thwart our rightful claims, we don't want you.

To the simpleminded Orcs who follow a brutal fool, we don't want you either.

To the gutted and bleeding Tauren remnants, we have no use for you.

To the stinking Goblin mercenaries with your fading minds and failing technology, we don't trust you, and we don't want you.

To the Addicts and Dissipated Sin'Dorei Wretches in Silvermoon, we don't want you.

To the ignorant and superstitious Trolls, we don't want you.

To the Illuminated Forsaken who know there's a new night coming. We want you.

Some Reassembly Required
Silly Name, Unpleasant People

Dolmund makes us sound so unfriendly and antisocial. Even if everything he's saying is true, don't let him fool you. We are unfriendly, just not antisocial. We value social interaction. Everyone deserves a chance to plead for their lives in front of their peers.

"Peers"

That's a funny word.

There is one who seems reluctant to join us. We seems willing, but I fear the threat of force may be all that keeps him interested.

Does that mean the threat of force is a valid recruitment tactic?

The threat of force is always a valid recruitment tactic.

It found me the person who killed me. I see no reason to not expand the application of severe stabbings to other fields. Poking things full of holes so that the juice comes out is a perfectly useful and then wait I had a why won't....

.... punching too.

And flowers, each will be plucked to wither and die, one by one... and those damned chickens...

And you shall know us by the trail of dead flowers, skinless corpses, and leaky Hot-Bloods.

I won't speak for any of the others you mention, but you have entirely the wrong measure of the Sin'Dorei and of your so-called 'Forsaken'. Allow me to relate to you the true history of your people, which you seem ignorant of.

I will begin with the Banshee Queen, who was one of our proud kind until her disgraceful failure in the course of the Sunwell defense. Had she been capable of performing the sacred duty entrusted to her, the Sin'Dorei would have had no need to bother to find a replacement power source for our rightful immortal heritage. She was spared from death by the generosity of the great king who raised her up, granted her power and honored her with the position as one of his lieutenants.

Unfortunately, even the king's great power could not cure her incompetence and eventually she betrayed him. You will note here that she failed the Sin'Dorei, then betrayed the king that saved her, then she threw in with minions of the Legion (who she also eventually turned on). Betrayal is the recurring theme of your queen and your entire degenerate race, though not the side you all suppose.

The Sin'Dorei on the other hand held Silvermoon whole against the scourge despite the crushing loss of our beloved ancient treasure and the tormenting vacuum that its loss left in all of our souls. We survived the betrayal of Kael'Thas. We survived the cataclysm entirely unscathed. Each successive crisis has made our race stronger, burning away the weak and impure as in a crucible.

Those who could be broken by the loss of the Sunwell are gone. Those of us and our former Lordaeron allies too weak to stand against the scourge are gone (many now swell your numbers). Those too blind by the lust for power that they would throw in with legion are gone. Those that remain are the true Sin'Dorei. The best numbers of the greatest race ever to grace Azeroth with its presence: The race that crushed the first Horde, the race that sheltered and saved the fledgling humans while they carved out their empires, and the race that held our world safe against the legion countless times too far back in the history of this world for lesser races to recall. I doubt you've noticed a certain fact--could be your eyes have rotted out and your brains have leaked from your ears--but we Sin'Dorei represent about a third of the champions of the horde, even with the recent addition of the goblins to our ranks.

So I return to you and your Banshee Queen. Her schemes for the future betrayal of the horde are not unknown. The orc leader might actually be ignorant, but I suspect the rest are just biding their time waiting for you to catch the attention of the Alliance so that you and your entire race can be used as the first wave and the rest of us can finish up what's left of both sides.

And when the Alliance comes to bring the crumbling ruin of Lordaeron down on your Undercity and bury you all proper once and for all; when we Sin'Dorei are the nearest aid, when you decide you want us after all and cry out for our aid, then you will at last be actually forsaken rather than the backstabbing, self-pitying, rotting remains of the dregs of the races you once were.

We would sooner call for aid from the dirt, though I suppose you'll claim to be the race that brought dirt into the world and saved it from the dreaded hydratic evil which threatened to moisten it unto mud. The dirt wouldn't spend so much time talking about how great it is, and it would likely be as useful to us as you.

There is a lot to be said for dirt, it is quiet, it does not yammer on and on, it waits for everything to fall and be taken into it's embrace and be eaten by worms... Also flowers.

Gentlemen, comrades, fellows.

Do not taunt the elf, they are sensitive. Just offer him something shiny and broken, and all will be well.

And to you sir Klip Klop Kilaeda the Horsie Rider, I say this. We've chased the wolves out of our houses, we sent them scurrying away with their tails between their legs. Our numbers grow daily to rival your own, and the green skinned fools lap at our feet, thinking us lambs. Let the humans come. They only make us stronger.

Also, I have made some lovely drawings. Would you like one?

You refer to the war with Gilneas? I see your lack of comprehension extends to modern history as well. As you are unable, I will interpret these events for you.

Once again the Banshee Queen has proven her incompetence. Do you know the nation you defeated? I think you must not. Gilneas has been sealed away from the world fighting a war with itself since before your race was born. They were a completely neutral nation of no threat or consequence in the scope of our conflict with the alliance.

Despite tipping her hand and permitting (or perhaps ordering) her underlings to deploy the scourging plague against this already crippled non-threat, the Banshee Queen still utterly failed to wipe out the Gilneans, permitting them instead to escape and find refuge among the enemies of the horde. The horde's gains during this period were diminutive in every respect, but your foolish people have given to our enemies the gift of a new ally.

The Gilneans carry with them the knowledge of your tactics and weapons and forces which will fuel the alliance's hatred of you giving them yet another reason to focus on your people. The Gilneans will return for their land--and yours--and they will have the full force of the alliance with them. Your queen's ineptitude has only hastened your doom, and for what? A few more useless zombie footsoldiers cobbled together from the remains of peasants.

Your attentions would have been better focused toward the alliance forces in the plaguelands. By isolating the Ebon Blade and the Argent Dawn, we could have made their supply lines run through horde territory, giving our side the advantage in all future dealings with those factions as well as having the hinterlands surrounded on all sides.

I will take your drawings because they aren't entirely bad (though I've seen better graffiti scrawled by Sin'Dorei children on the walls of Murder Row). Consider the education I have imparted to you here as all the thanks or payment you will get for it.

You know, this all reminds me of a joke.

How many Sin'Dorei does it take to light a torch?

Only one. Because you see, long before your race crawled up from the muck from which is was born, the Sin'Dorei forged Everburn, the first torch, from the flames of creation and wood born from the First Seed, a seed older than the bones of the Titans and far more important and impressive than anything you have to say anyway and really it all gets quite pretentious and goes on and on and on like this until they get the shakes and have to go back for some Crystal Fix but not until they make sure to make it clear that they're really quite old and better than you all by leaps and bounds.

You know, for all your ravings, you're just a bunch of dead humans with delusions of grandeur. We killed your last master, the Lich King. Should circumstances require it, your Lich Queen shall burn in the light of An'she as well.

Ravings? Ravings? We are NOT raving. How can you say that, you ignorant COW!

WE ARE NOT RAVING, WE ARE PERFECTLY CALM!

We'll have your hooves for clubs and your ears for purses, I'll use the sweetmeats of your mind to fill the holes in my head and hope my intellect is not reduced thereby.

Dead humans. Well, yes, but we are better. We have been made better, anything we have lost has been compensated for many times over by the gifts we have been given, WE ARE NOT LESS THAN WE WERE. WE ARE BETTER. BETTER, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?

Perhaps you should join us. Our small family. Our kind and knowledgable friends. It only takes a small incision, then you can be like us. You can pick flowers, and choke chickens... and not worry about what was lost and if you could only find it you could calm yourself and WE'RE NOT RAVING DAMN DAMN DAMN NOT DAMNED.

let's be friends

What my colleague touches on... and sometimes careens off of... is that it is not what has been, what was, where we came from, that untouchable land the past, that has any importance, it is the decay... the shift, what is and will be, the becoming, as all sink to an equal and calm dark moist peat that will be forever

and forever

and forever

to... as has been said, the last syllable of recorded time... and past that, past the bother of recording. A place time with no more flowers though they so clearly point out to us the way (and for that they should be revered as one by one their lives are cut short and their purposes remade).

Threats of destroying us are funny. I laugh as best I can because it shows that one cannot think properly until they cannot properly think. Resistance is... as has also been said, futile. At the end of the game all the pieces are returned to the box yes, but some pieces know that box so very well and will still be able to dance.

The chicken is still staring.

"I watched you as one of the Human race." said Wacker, as he shifted to a more comfortable position. He stares at the fire, and gazes at the battleworks that have and continue to be built.

"Peace is what your kind once proclaimed to want" spits into the fire and stares, "and then..the wars" shuddering he stands and faces the undead thing before him. "Who knows? It could have been I that ended your real life..many humans have I killed" "but this....this plague infested bag of rot that speaks to us as if he were a king..bah"

Turning away in disgust, Wacker mounts, wheeling again to the undead gathered, ranting, the stench of old death in the air. "Be carefull what you say, this is a very uneasy alliance we have at best, and there are those that would prefer to see your kind dead again..if you truly call that life" laughing he rides off turning his thoughts to more serious things...ohhh a bug..

The forsaken looks around, mumbling to himself
"So much hostility, So much hate... what is there for Disfavor?"
I hate not your living kinds, nor those of the dead. Aliens nor immortals..

"But you all will die... knives in the back... yes..."
His eyes focus as he looks around.

"The dead will live on."
He glares at the other forsaken
"The damned stand ready."
He vanishes in a puff of smoke

You understand.

That is..... Acceptable. We'll find you.

We're very polite.

03/16/2011 9:40 PMPosted by Kanaohe

You know, for all your ravings, you're just a bunch of dead humans with delusions of grandeur. We killed your last master, the Lich King. Should circumstances require it, your Lich Queen shall burn in the light of An'she as well.

Ah! But the Banshee Queen -- so lovely! I fail to see the comparison between such a warrior goddess and that fetid reminder of Lordaeron's corruption. They are nothing alike! There are the angels, yes -- val'kyr? I remember them vaguely. Whispers. I'll have to write that word somewhere, everything keeps leaking out of this damned rip in my throat...

Where was I? Oh yes. The hot angels! They're employed very differently now, the Banshee Queen's beautiful iron-clad fist kept them deliciously under control. Were it not for them, many of our kind would be nothing more than worm-food. Perhaps that is why you are angry! We do not deserve life in your eyes, yes? Our life is not as pure as the one your hallowed An'she (I must write that one down, too) or Mu'sha (the wound cannot claim that lovely one) or the Earthmother thing you tauren worship. Why is our existence not as valid as yours? Sylvanas has done nothing but provided able-bodied soldiers to your saintly Horde. She assisted in the siege on Arthas' citadel. It was Putress who bothered with that whole betrayal nonsense.

Do you honestly believe someone as intelligent, as wonderful as the Banshee Queen will debase herself by taking on the mantle of her most hated enemy?