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(( Skip too End for OOC before posting ))
After the long hours of the day he would go too the Stormwind City Cemetery and find his usual seat. He is seen sitting on the cold stones path as he looks over the sea of burial stones that extend for some distance. The man sits solemnly and alone as he stares out blankly in thought. He occasionally looks down at his old Military Insignia, Reading it and trying too forget. He will read it over and over again silently, Each time he analyzes it he seems confused and frustrated. The Insignia will always read "Lieutenant Laman Dirkhaven, 81st Infantry And Intelligence Division." Although now his Stormwind Watch Insignia will read "Corporal". He looks across the massive graveyard and stops on one particular grave marker.
"Here we remember the 81st Infantry and Intelligence Division, For their valor and sacrifice in the Icy Borean Tundra. Their Commander Lugaid Dirkhaven Will always be remembered for his bravery against unfavorable odds.
He reads this too himself silently as the wind blows and slightly sways his Watch Insignia upon his right shoulder plate. A single tear rolls down his face and falls too his hand. He examines the tear but he had forgotten what it was too feel sad and too cry. He was a soldier, The only survivor. He has no family and no friends too support him if he falls. He uncorks his flask and takes a long sip from it. He needed too forget, And alcohol has always been close at hand since his return home.
After some time and the flask had been depleted of its contents, Laman eventually stands too leave. He pays his respects too his fallen subordinates and his father. He walks the streets of Stormwind on his way home, Always glancing around trying too make up memories that never existed. He smiles as two children run past him and into their home as their mother scolds them for being out too late. He continues too walk until he finally comes across his small home.
Laman enters his home and begins drinking from the nearest bottle. He had just woke from his four month coma when he was stabbed on duty. Although, Peaceful sleep was not what he found during this time. Only the recollection of the past. It tore him up inside and ultimately led him too question his future. He looks around the room, There was no decoration, Just empty walls. Only a work table, a chair and his bed. Next too his bed lay his sword and a length of rope. He approaches his bed and removes the heavy plate from his body and places them out of the way and picks up the length of rope. From his experience he expertly ties a noose and stares down at it in his hands after completing it. His eyes blank and cold, He had no one... No family... No Wife or children... Only his work.
He finishes his second bottle of ale and again looks down on the noose in thought. Moments later light shimmers faintly across his night robes and the noose slowly breaks down into charred pieces of rope. He would wait too see what is too come, For a soldier the future is always uncertain. He would leave no friends behind if he were too make such a decision, He only knows those who hate his existence for being a Watchman, He also thinks of the families of his fallen comrades and other subordinates. How they hated him as he himself told them of the fate of his Brothers in arms. It was his duty. He opens the window of his home and drops the charred remains of the rope into the gutter.
He slides into his bed and closes his eyes, He will make his decision soon.
((OOC, This is completely open too any who wish too include themselves in this. Although I will ask that you follow some rules. - ))
(( Seeing as this event is taking place in Stormwind, I ask that only Alliance members post here. It can be of anything your character is doing in the city while this takes place. Laman will be making his decision based on what happens in both the forum and on the server Cenarion Circle. ))
(( If you intend on posting here, Please make it somewhat lengthy and not a short 2 sentence event. And keep it appropriate. This is my first Forum RP Thread through the community and I hope it goes well. ))
(( And Lastly! Please Enjoy yourselves. ))
(( **EDIT** Horde Can post here if they can somehow find a way too involve themselves. I'm always open too trying new RP! ))
Edited by Laman on 7/26/2012 6:56 AM PDT
90 Worgen Death Knight
Jeddaven made his usual nighttime rounds around the city of Stormwind, simply thinking about life, and what might've happened if he hadn't made the mistakes he had. Jeddaven had thought about this many times before, but he was unable to sleep, so he had little choice f what he would think about. He was constantly awake, physically unable to sleep. Never tiring, always awakee. He was a Brigadier General, and he had made many mistakes on his way to the top, many of which had cost the lives of many soldiers which he had grown to treat like his own brothers. Jeddaven soon brought himself to sit on a stone bench in Cathedral square, simply staring at the stars.
The morning sun had begun too rise, Its dim glow illuminating the dark streets. Meanwhile, the merchants are setting up their stands to begin selling their goods too the general public. All the dock workers are slowly trudging their way down the ramps too begin another lengthy day hauling new imports and loading ships with supplies for their crews. Another simple day in Stormwind.
Laman wakes from his sleep and sits quietly staring out the window. The sounds of the day are starting too get louder, The merchants yelling and the children playing in the streets. He stands slowly and starts too don his heavy plate. One piece after the other... Eventually he was finished and lastly he straps his "Corporal" insignia too his right shoulder plate and walks from his home into the new day.
He would start from the residential district and slowly make his rounds around the city, putting up Watch recruitment posters. Hopefully he would catch petty criminals and have them locked away, As he walked the people would look at him. He was sure they were thinking that he would protect them all. He would gladly give his life too protect the citizens of his home. Occasionally someone would stop him and make small talk about the morning but he would simply smile and nod his head. He had no way too compare too these people, So he would excuse himself politely and continue his solemn patrol.
As he walked, He thought too himself. "Hopefully this day will drag on longer than usual..." and he finally ends up entering the City Watch Office in the city, He would go too his work station and doff his sword and shield. Once he sat down he would begin working on the never-ending piles of paperwork that reached his desk. Before continuing he stares out the nearest window at the grand statue of Lord Uther. He was a soldier, And he will wait too see what the world still has too offer him.
Stormwind City Cemetery was always well-tended by the head caretaker and his handful of assistants, most of whom were young Novices from the Cathedral. Not only did they dig the graves, but they would also keep the grass trimmed down, rake up fallen leaves in autumn, weed the grassy areas, tend to the flowers and trees, repair the gravestones - it was a laborious task to keep the grounds of the massive and ever expanding cemetery in pristine condition for the mourners that would come and visit their departed loved ones.
The graves most frequently visited almost always had fresh flowers or even some form of trinket left on them when visited. The many gravestones of those without families would tend to remain barren...except for once a week. And then fresh flowers - wildflowers picked from the outskirts of the city and flowers from the gardens of the cemetery itself - would be left on them. The wildflowers would also up on the memorial stones of the units who have fallen in battle. Few outside the caretakers and Cathedral knew really who placed the flowers - for most, they were so wrapped up in their own grief as they visited, it just wasn't something that registered in their minds.
If anyone had kept track, then they'd know today was the day fresh flowers would be laid on the graves of those who had been forgotten.
All but bouncing through the paths in the cemetery, a small figure in the dove-grey habit of a Novice from the Cathedral moved from gravestone to gravestone, placing down a small bundle of wildflowers and pausing to say a quick prayer to the light for the departed's soul before moving on again.
The novice paused, head tilting as she regarded the now-familiar figure sitting by himself. He was always here at the end of the day and was always staring at the recently placed memorial marker of the 81st. He was lost in his own world, as he always was. She glanced into her basket - she had refilled it with wildflowers she and the girls from the orphanage had picked earlier several times already and had a few more left over then she thought she would now that she had finished her walk through the cemetery.
The teenager pulled the remaining flowers from her basket and as she approached, her deft fingers weaved the flowers into a crown, just like she had taught the orphaned girls to make. Pausing in front of the man - he wore the armor of the City Watch - she studied him for a moment before reaching out and dr@ping the crown of flowers on his head.
She smiled at him, the setting sun making the golden hair that flowed down her back over her Novice's habit glow along with her skin. Majustu was young and at fifteen was only just considered an adult by some, but she knew the pain of loss and loneliness - orphans with no family names tended to be looked down on and the only family she had in the world was her older sister and later on her two best friends.
"I don't think they'd want you to wallow in misery because they have passed and you have survived," she advised softly; she had very few talents - she was the weakest in comparison to other Novices even younger than she - but she had a very nice singing and speaking voice.
Before she could continue though, the bells chimed in the distance and her gentle smile morphed into a look of alarm. "Oh Light Be, evening prayers! I'm going to be late!"
She bowed hastily to the man that always was there in the evenings and took off at a dead run - and only a few steps later tripped either over her own hem or an uneven stone paver and performed a painful looking faceplant into the grass. The teenager sprang back up though as though unharmed and darted off full speed back to the Cathedral, the words of "Late, late, late---!" drifting back behind her.
Edited by Majustu on 6/26/2012 11:13 PM PDT
85 Orc Warrior
Froacke Flintlock grumbled to himself as he lit a morning cigar. The Gnome looked left and right around the Cathedral Square, though he had no idea why he would be hanging around here...an experienced thief like him had no reason to stay about such a...holy, place. But really, he was just wandering about aimlessly...so far, no new contracts from his 'friends' came by and he didn't like doing side jobs...attracted too much attention. And he and his association could make due without that.
The Gnome looked like he was a down in the weather...granted, he always looked like that. He had pale skin that would of been counted as smooth if it wasn't for a couple of stress lines and a scar on his left eye. The scar looked like a crescent, though his eye looked fine.
He was of average height for a Gnome, though intimidation would of lacked for the height, but it came with his choice of apparel and over all air. He wore pure black leather armor that covered his entire body, minus his hide. He wore a cloak that was a mixture of black and dark crimson, and it had a hood that could cover his head...but was done for the moment.
The only obvious weapons he had was a rusty looking bladed pistol to his hip and a sharp looking dagger on the other side of his hip. But it could be assumed that the rogue had other weapons concealed on his person, might as well expect it.
He had a full set of hair that was cut rather short, so as to not get in the way. And he had a goatee around his mouth and on his chin. The hair was black with some grey added into the mix...giving it a 'salt-and-peppered- coloration.
The rogue seemed about normal...if it wasn't for his eyes. His eyes, though looking healthy sharp, were as cool, collected, and calculating as a hawk's. If you were to look at his eyes...with that icy mixture of green and blue...you would think of going to an iceberg to get warmed after getting a cold stare from his emotionless eyes.
Plumes of black smoke came from his lips as he puffed the goodness of a goblin made cigar. He looked lazily about the Square again, nothing of interest ever goes on in Stormwind...even though in his opinion, it was the perfect example of purity and nobility falling into insanity, depravity, and corruption...People just did not know what exactly what went on inside of the dark alley ways of the human city. It was almost comical for the Gnome...almost.
As he was smoking, he found a human girl running towards the Cathedral. He blinked as he watch her go and scratch his head a bit,"Oi...People 'ese days...Dun 'ave any time, yet no place ta go..."
He had an odd Dwarfish like accent on his rather unusually deep voice, probably because of his time hanging around Dwarves and his smoking. The Gnome just shook his head and continued to smoke from his cigar, and also sitting on a low branch of a tree for a good view of the Square.
(( Due too bad work habits IRL my posts have been a bit delayed. My Apologies too those who've posted. ))
A week has passed in Stormwind but the end of the day meant nothing too Laman. He turns in his completed parchment reports and made quick work of his small work area in the Office before he left. As always he would walk too the Graveyard quietly in respect for those who were in mourning. He approached the Grave Marker of the 81st slowly in thought. When he finally sat down on a nearby bench he was already in deep thought.
Although a week has passed he still remembers the novice who had approached him, A child of the Cathedral, he thought. At the time he had hardly took notice of her words, but as time went on he pondered on it more often then naught. He felt bad for not giving her a proper response or even thank her for her advice. He dips his head and takes a swig from his flask and sits quietly.
He says his farewell too his fallen comrades and his father respectfully and leaves a bouquet of flowers in front of the marker. As well as the small crown of wildflowers that the Girl had laid on his head. He bows his head and walks from the cemetery to go home but as he leaves his eyes pass over the Orphanage and he feels cold. A surge of pity passes over him because those children may never have known their parents...
He looks around and notices its starting too get dark and the children were beginning to be ushered inside by their Matrons. He smiles slightly as a young boy fusses and refuses too go inside with the others. Laman walks over from the path, His insignia swaying with each stride and he speaks too the boy. "You should not fight with those who care for you."
The boy stops his fussing and looks up at Laman, Seemingly scared by the Watchman's sudden appearance and nods without a word and rushes inside. As he goes the Matron women looks at Laman and smiles. "Thank you, He has been recently orphaned here and he is not adjusting well. But that aside, Is there something you need?"
Laman blinks, He did not know why he was standing outside the Orphanage and he ponders quietly and finally reaches into his satchel and removes his payment for the month and takes out a large portion of it. The woman's eyes enlarge in misunderstanding as she eyes Laman place the portion into a small coin purse and hands it too her. Laman smiles as he hands it too her. "I suppose, Im just going too donate this. Please, Take care of these children..."
The woman nods and accepts the donation gratefully and Laman turns too leave down the path too his small home.
(I know you said only Alliance but I figured it'd be nice twist)
"You Pillock! You have disgraced this tribe for the final time!".. The words rang out clearly in his head, the echoes from long long ago. It had been 6 years since he had been exiled from his DarkSpear tribe and he had no regrets. Being trained as a hunter since his coming of age, survival was in his blood. Determined to find a way to prove himself...to force them to accept him back.
The breeze was cool and crisp, dusk was coming of and he had been positioned on the high crest of a hill just outside the Mage District of Stormwind for nearly 3 days. Long barreled scoped rifle set on his back he sat and watched. Examining the watch guards paths on their runs through the city. Most were normal, all except one...a certain guard who, after his shift would work his way to the graveyard and sit. Sometimes for hours, just drinking and mourning. (he assumed). "How strange humans can be," he thought to himself. "when trolls died in our village it was a time of celebration. The passing through this realm onto a greater world beyond." Yet something about it seemed calming, innocent, nice.
It was the forth day on that hill and he had the information he needed. Traced paths and times of all the guards. He climbed over the wall around noon, as the guards traded shifts for lunch. There was a small breech in time and he zipped through the mage district completely alone, and then dove into the canal. He waited in a large blown out hole just beneath the canal bridge between the mage quarter and cathedral square. (Most likely blown out from Deathwing's carnage.) Then around dusk he sprinted into the square and climbed into a tree by the fountain.
There was the expected guard over by the cemetary as usual. Now to wait for him to walk out the tunnel and he would be home free to climb the cathedral. The orphans all being pushed into the orphanage. A little boy began to fuss and pushed to stay outside. The guard began to walk closer to them...Pillock's heart rushed. This isn't the way he should be going....just leave out the tunnel you normally leave. The guard stopped by the boy and the matron, mouthed in-audible words, and then handed them a hefty ammount of money.
The gun had been enchanted with silencing. The boy and women had moved inside. It would be so easy to take him out, the other guards wouldn't come for him for at least 1-2 hours. Plenty of time to hide him and keep the plan running smoothly. He debated for a moment, then raised his gun and posted up on the guard through the scope. Finger on the trigger he watched the guard. The man watched the boy and women walk in slightly smiling, he lifted the Isignia on his shoulder and looked at it. A tear ran down his face...Pillock stopped. "Is this what I will be ending?" he thought. "If I bring this information back after I scout out the castle, so many lives will be lost...many of which as innoccent as this man's."
The guard turned and began walking to the tunnel leading to wherever it was he was going. Pillock lowered his gun. "I cannot, nor will I prove myself this way. I will find another way to make them accept me back. But ending lives like this in cold blood...That is not the way I will do it." The guard vanished around the corner and Pillock quickly made his way back to the hilltop he had camped at for the past four days. Looking over the grand city, he smiled. Funny how so many live could be considered in the hand of just one. He turned his back and walked into the midnight forrest of Elwynn.
Although Laman returned too his home, Sleep never made itself known. He sat over his small desk working on paperwork and occasionally drinking from his flask. Just as he signs his name and seals it, Someone begins pounding his door.
Laman rubs his forehead and his eyes as the pounding continues. He yells, "Alright damn you, I'm coming!" He goes too the door and opens it, the cool air blows in rustling his parchment and there stands another Officer of the Watch. The Officer looks at Laman as he opens the door in some-what of a rage and speaks calmly. "My Apologies for waking you so early, Corporal. During my evening patrol, A woman came too me and said she had seen a dark figure lurking around the Mage District. Seeing as your home is so close, I needed to see if you had seen anything."
Laman takes a swig from his flask, Clearly not even being affected by the strong alcohol, he sighs. "Ah yes, I'm sorry for my rudeness. I have not seen anything out of the ordinary here recently..." He ponders. "Officer, If you would please go too the Barracks and see if you can have the Guards doubled. If there is anything suspicious, I'm sure it will be resolved in no time at all."
The Officer at the door salutes Laman and pivots too do as he was told and return to his duties. Meanwhile Laman closes the door and returns too his small desk. He removes a small notebook and makes note of what he was just told and decides he will look into the matter the next day. He attempts too sip from his flask but finds that it is empty, Irritated he goes too his bed and attempts too sleep. He also thought of going too the Cathedral too properly thank the young girl who had spoken too him while he was mourning.
Another day in Stormwind...
Aakesh sat upon the roof over looking the Cathedral. Raising his hand to his mouth, he downed a quick swig of a deep, thick rum straight from Stranglethorn. Shivering as the liquid burned its way down his throat, he looked back at the courtyard, praying the troll would make another appearance. He had seen it happen, only feet away from where the gnome had been sitting the day before, smoking what had to be the worst smelling cigar Aakesh had ever seen.
Aakesh, looked up to the clouded sky, scratching his chin. He rarely had a reason to leave the roof once night hit, but the chance to hunt down a troll was one he could justify. He had only seen the beast for a few seconds before he had disappeared from sight. Lacking the tracking skills of a hunter, Aakesh had lost him as quickly as he had spotted him. Another swig, another shiver.
The dark armor he bore was of the Ebon Holds' making, and his runesword had been at his side since his rebirth. His cowl shaded his face at all times of the day, despite its uselessness at night. "Of all things I miss about being alive," he whispered, although the holow echo of his voice carried it much farther, "is the ability to sleep. This constant state of being awake takes its toll after a few years."
Aakesh contemplated the guard he always saw at the graveyard in the evenings. Always sitting, always drinking. "Maybe if I drink enough I'll be able to sleep too..." Looking at the bottle in his hand, he shrugged, taking another, long, deep draft from it. Shaking his head, he once again began to scan the courtyard, looking for what he hoped would be a chance to fight.
Thorv sat on a bench, hidden in the shadows of the Cathedral courtyard. Scratching his chin, he puffed on his pipe, blowing rings out for the amusement of his pet tiger, kuuro. He looked back up at the Death Knight sitting on the roof and chuckled. "It would seem we're not de only one who like de night life, eh kuuro?" he asked, looking down and petting his only friend.
Just another uneventful day in Stormwind.
"What are you doing out here this time of morning?" the familiar voice asked exasperated.
It was in the wee hours of the morning, in the stillness and darkness before the dawn. Majustu always rose well before the sun - more servant than anything else, she would stoke the various fires and help start breakfast for her fellows in the Cathedral.
Glancing up at her friend, the novice smiled, kicking her legs where she sat on the stone bench. "She's homing back! And she said to wait right here, she had a surprise for me."
Sighing, the tall, lean form garbed in well-tended mail with the tabard of Gilneas face-palmed. Marguax Valera was a survivor of the nation that had fallen to a combination of the Worgen-curse and the undead; once a trainee for the King's Guard, Marguax had found herself wandering lost across the continents before ending up in Stormwind City. Here she had stayed, because it was where her King resided. and Here was where she had made friends.
One of them being the young, naive, yet also incredibly stubborn Novice of the Holy Light - Majustu. The same girl who smiled so brilliantly at the tall warrior that it was like she was radiating with her own internal light source, lighting up the night. Peering at the girl from between her fingers, Marguax sighed and dropped her hand.
"And you know how unreliable flight-times are," the warrior chided. "And she's the first person who wouldn't want you sitting out here at anytime of night for hours on end waiting for her. If anything happened to you, well...your sister is insane. And carries more explosives than most Goblins or Gnomes. Stormwind wouldn't recover."
The Novice's full lips moved into a faint pout, even as she kicked her feet a bit. "I'll wait a few more minutes and then go inside. Alright?"
"Only a few more minutes. You have your morning prayers to get to," Marguax cautioned her young friend - though truly not that much younger, only two years.
"Why are you up anyway?" Majustu queried her friend.
"....I hate full moons." the warrior grunted in annoyance, looking away and glaring at the horizon, where the sun would soon rise.
Majustu winced - the warrior despised her curse, and spent every moment possible in the form she had been born in, resorting in shifting to her Worgen form as a last resort. "....it'll be over soon."
"I hope so. I got the strangest scent earlier in the Mage Quarter - could have sworn I smelt a Troll," Marguax snorted before quieting. "Be careful."
They stood in silence for a few moments before the warrior headed off for her morning training and Majustu spent a few more moments sitting on her bench, watching for her older sister to appear...
Dreams never reach those who have lost sight of their future. Laman awakens early in the morning too a familiar pounding at the door, The clank of plate against wood is something you get used too over time. He crawls off his small bed and dons his armor and latches his insignia too his shoulder, Going over his mental checklist he places his newly filled flask into his satchel. As the pounding continues his brow twitches with irritation, He goes too the door and opens it too show the same Watchman from the previous night.
The Watchman Salutes and stands at attention. "Good Morning Corporal, As you requested the detail on the wall and on foot patrol has been nearly doubled. Although, I must say they don't seem too enthusiastic." He smiles thinking it was funny but Laman just glares at him with his expressionless look and speaks. "I'm not a morning person, Officer... Thank you for the information. You are dismissed too return too your duties."
At that, The Officer drops the grin and salutes respectfully. Then pivots too return too his duties. Laman watches him go and sighs. "At least he's dedicated..." He walks down the path too the office, crossing the canal bridge into the Cathedral District, and stops in-front of the Watch Office. "The more I think about this... The Lieutenant Commander won't be very understanding of me giving orders without his consent on the matter..." he whispers too himself. Finally he turns and looks across the square, Taking note of a man sitting idly on a bench with his companion. Nothing out of the ordinary yet... he thought.
He steps inside the office and goes too his desk, Getting the occasional glare from the other Officers who had been risen from their evening activities and put on the wall... Laman no longer cared if they didn't like him, As long as they followed orders they could do what they wanted on their own time. He takes his seat and looks down at the seemingly endless amounts of reports from the doubled detail of their observations during the night.
Apparently paperwork is the best way too kill time... He will most likely be sitting here from morning too dusk filing and reading over all the reports. Another late evening...
Rumors started too spread around the streets that it was a troll or a very disfigured human that had been roaming the streets the previous night. He pondered in though of how this matter would be handled and sighs. He had doubled the Watchmen on both the wall and the streets after all...
Edited by Laman on 7/9/2012 3:18 PM PDT
Madness gripped at the edge's of Aakesh's mind as he choked a flock of bird's with their own blood. He had seen the Troll, knew it was here, and yet he couldn't find him. All he had seen since was a doubling of the guards and an old companion, Thorv.
They had not yet talked, as they had split on bad terms after the fall of the Lich King. It had been over a year already, but the old group still had little to know contact with each other, preferring to avoid the pained memories of that day long ago. Aakesh cursed and punched a wall, frost streaking out across it, despite the warmth of the midsummer day.
"I will not let myself think of that. I no longer live, I have no use for emotions," He growled, continuing to walk the streets of the trade district, heavy metal boots clomping as he went.
Her sister hadn't arrived yet. But like Marguax said, flight-times are unreliable. Majustu's day continued normally, through chores and prayers and helping the Orphanage Matron - due to being an orphan herself, she believed in giving back to the place that the kindly old Priest who had found them had brought her elder sister and herself when they had been on the brink of dying from malnutrition.
The sun was near setting and the shadows cast from the gravestones were lengthening; a softly sung hymn drifted across the cemetery, coming from the small figure in the dove-gray Novice's habit raking the trimmed grass into a neat pile. The evening in the cemetery was one of the best times for the novices and assistant groundskeepers to work on maintaining the grounds - the other time was the very early morning. The temperature was generally cooler and there was often less foot-traffic and mourners present, which was ideal - no one wanted to intrude on those who were grieving.
Majustu finished with helping the others and wandered through the cemetery's paths as the sun continued to set; she paused at the sight of that familiar figure sitting on the bench and staring at the 81st's marker.
"From what I've heard," Aakesh said, approaching the young groundskeeper, "He was the only one from the eighty-first who survived." Looking over at the man Aakesh grinned, soaking in the mans pain, calming his own need to cause grief. It was more of a shot of adrenaline than the calming feeling others would get from such pointless activities as meditation or a midnight stroll.
"At any rate, I have a question for you," he said, turning his attention to the young girl. "Have you seen a troll recently? He was carrying a large rifle with a massive scope on it, and looked to have purple hair."
"In Sen'Jin's name..." Pillock cursed to himself. "I'm growing tired of this damned hill."
Again, he sat atop the hill of his first nights outside Stormwind. Rifle scoped in, he scoured the path he had taken that nerve racking night 2 days ago. "Curse this horrible luck, out of all the times for me to be misfortuned, why now?" He clutched at his chest but only gathered a handful of cloth from his tabard. "Habits die hard" he thought. The whistle, given to him by his father, who received it from his father and so on had been in his family for generations.
"Wear this proudly, it's been through many a war..and many an honorable troll. You will do our family proud." His father's words echoed through him to the point of pain. He couldn't bear to think of losing his families heirloom.
He had scanned everywhere he had been, all except the courtyard. The climax of that fateful night. The entrance to the tunnel......the ground across the courtyard.....the base of the tree....."It must be there somewhere..please" And then there it was, a glinting shiny reflection. Hanging from a low branch of the tree he had hidden in. His heart leaped with joy but quickly receeded back into wence it came. "How bittersweet this is." The whistle, so close yet so far away. In his first day scanning he had noticed there were double the patrol of guards wandering the streets and a large number of them on the wall closest to him. He had taken extra caution the first night. Making sure to stay well hidden from there sight but still able to keep nearly full view of the city. And what worried him more was the Death Knight and Hunter surveying the grounds exactly around where he had been.
"I was sure nobody had seen me, I must've been much more sloppy than I thought. How nobody has seen the glinting steel surpasses me. Nevertheless, I must find a way to get it back.."
She jumped in surprise when the man came up behind her, tripping on her own feet and barely catching herself before faceplanting into the ground. Hastily Majustu straightened back up, brushing wrinkles out of her novice's habit. Turning, she looked up at him, blinking big eyes up at the man who emanated the unholy chill of death. "Seen a...? No. But my friend thought she smelled on, in the Mage Quarter... I'm sorry I can't be more helpful though..."
Departing from the man, she continued down the path when light glinted in her eyes. Flinching back, she turned and saw the source of the light....something metallic hanging from a low hanging tree branch in the courtyard. Blinking in confusion, she approached it and found a metal whistle....? Was it one of the orphans'...? Raising up on her tiptoes, she reached up and carefully pulled the whistle free.
Settling back down, she looked between the tree branch and the whistle in confusion before shrugging and tucking it into her habit's pocket - she could ask the orphans in the morning if they had lost it while playing around in the trees....though this tree did look a little hard for a child to climb up...
Thorv let loose a stream of curses as his old comrade, Aakesh, walked into the courtyard, glanced at a tree, snarled and left again. "I hate at' damnable fool. He got me worryin about somethin I aint' even seen. At' tree as' somethin te do wit light knows wha'," He said to himself. Kuuro huffed is response to his master's mutterings, opening and eye lazily as if to say Then why worry about it?
Picking up his gun, he looked through his scope, scanning the hills outside the city. A flash of light upon the southern most hill caught his eye. Quickly moving his scope back over the hill, all he could make out were the trees swaying in the breeze. Must've imagined it he thought to himself.
Aakesh watched the young girl walk away, and suddenly stop next to the tree the troll had sat in only two days earlier. She reached up into the branches and grabbed something, small and metal. She starred at it in her hand, and tucked it away in a pocket a few seconds later. He felt a wicked smile stretch across his face. Excellent he thought This will prove to be entertaining.
Glancing over at Thorv, Aakesh saw the dwarf starring through his scope at a hill just beyond the wall of the mage quarter. Laughing his eerie, echoing laugh, Aakesh made his way to his usual spot atop the build directly in front of the cathedral, waiting anxiously for what the troll would do.
"Let the games begin."
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