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I and my Highborne, handmaidens, and Highguard will gladly participate in this. This server needs a fat injection of RP--and hopefully nothing to do with wonky gnome technology or cow paladins that travel through time on steampunk motorcycles. Back to what makes the Warcraft universe appealing--at least to me--magic, demons, medieval/fantasy stuff, so don't even think about charging in to battle on your clunky jalopy cycle with your shrink ray in hand! /slap
Heh, no guarantees there. This is WoW not Lord of the Rings, yo.
( Please leave an IC response to this post. Let the Event begin! For updates to the event in-game you can /join FamineRP channel.)
The Moon illuminated the night sky over the Cathedral Square, as if the luminescent orb were a silent protector of the sleeping heroes of the Eastern Kingdoms.
Long after everyone was safely asleep in their beds, a cloaked figure calmly strode into the center of the Square, sneering up at the Moon in sheer defiance as it hefted a large bloodied sack over one shoulder.
"Primitive mortal filth", his voice echoed in the darkness as the shadows, tinged with a purple hue, gathered around him "The game has begun.."
Without another sound, the figure places a diseased elk's head on the hammer of Uther's statue, nodding in satisfaction as dark green blood ebbed into the fountain below. A note is stuck to the elk's horn.
"The trees themselves are silent watchers.
We shall slaughter, we shall butcher.
The Shadowhorn clan shall rise again,
turning the land to foe from friend.
Our ancient enemy, across the sea,
Shall not impede our victory.
Defend your lands, if you dare,
for our tainted seed shall bear root and snare.
What was abandoned by you shall be returned in turn,
Your people rise for us, sickly voices heard. "
The figure gives a short nod of satisfaction before walking off into the dark.
The blood of the tainted elk, its rotted eyes looking out at the Square, continues to drip into the fountain slowly turning the waters a tainted green..
Edited by Ramallen on 4/24/2013 11:14 AM PDT
Kaydris may have been the first to spot the figure as she sat motionless in the far side of the square. From the shelter of a dark cowl, two luminous eyes turned upon the intruder with idle curiosity, blinking reproachfully and narrowing as they affixed something rather rank-smelling to the statue of Uther. For a moment, the kaldorei planted her hand upon the cobbles as though to push herself up, but instead she remained still, watching, perhaps deciding the figure to be some bizarre prankster.
A few long minutes after the being had retreated, curiosity inevitably brought the elf up to inspect the grotesque addition to the statue. A large, clawed had reached out to touch cautiously at the note and after several moments of struggling through the common, her head snapped in the direction to which the stranger had disappeared and she broke after him in a sprint.
Some ten minutes in passing found her trudging back to the square, breathless and tired, with not so much as a scrap of evidence to show for her hard pursuit, her obscured face wrought in a pensive and troubled frown.
"Well... !@#$... who the Hell are the Shadowhorn... time to grace Rama with my presence."
This is the absolute dumbest thing ever... NO I LOVE IT!
Fiz is always willing to be a double agent, seeing as that didn't go as planed with Shazia...
First! ...After IC post!
90 Human Paladin
“Payton, Petar!” the woman called out across the Square, “Don’t run too far.”
The two boys hardly slowed in their mad dash around the Cathedral Square, their voices raised in play despite the early morning. Silence blanketed the city, the sun barely visible over the eastern horizon. Cloaked against the chill of the morning air as they four took their usual morning stroll, Tamora watched the boys for another moment before a tug at her sleeve drew her attention downward, to the little girl huddling close at her side, equally cloaked with her hood pulled over to conceal her head from the cold. She stared up at Tamora with wide blue eyes.
“What is it, Sonya?”
The blonde little beauty, reminding Tamora so much of herself as a child, pointed toward the fountain in the center of the Square. It was difficult to fully see in the light of pre-dawn, but there appeared to be something stuck on the fountain’s statue, no more than a blurred shadow. Strangely, Tamora became aware of an odd scent lingering in the air as she took notice of the fountain.
“Payton, Petar!” she called again, shifting her attention away briefly in search of the two boys. They were at the far end of the Square now, with Petar being held in a head-lock by Payton, who was rubbing his knuckles against the top of the other boy’s head, much to Petar’s dismay as he shouted in pain and anger. As Tamora called, Payton reluctantly released his playmate and both boys came running in her direction, Petar shoving Payton aside playfully. He stumbled to a halt as he passed the fountain, turning a curious gaze upon the bubbling water.
“Whoa!” the boy exclaimed, trotting closer to the fountain. “Petar, check this out!”
“Payton, no!” Tamora cried, releasing the little girl’s hand as she darted forward. It was too late, though, as Payton leaned over the fountain’s edge to peer at the water contained within, glowing a sickly green and with an odorous smell. He promptly stuck his hand into the fountain, heedless as young boys often were, and fell back with a pained cry, clutching his wet hand.
“Tam!” he shrieked. “It – It hurts!” And so it did, a sudden and strange tingling, burning sensation that caused the boy’s hand to cramp, fingers clenched. Tears quickly wet his eyes as he held still beneath Tamora’s gentle touch, her hands closing around his pained appendage to inspect the damage done. Seeing nothing beyond a strange glow of the boy’s hand, she leaned over the fountain’s edge to peer at the water much as Payton had done, though her attention was quickly drawn away from the glowing water to peer upward, close enough now to see what strange shadow was cast upon the fountain; the decrepit eyes of an elk stared at her, unseeing in death, the severed head perched atop Uther’s hammer.
“Boys, Sonya. Go back to the orphanage.”
What was this madness?
Authorization had finally come. A shallow, token acknowledgment of his long efforts. They were unwilling to commit resources, but gold would not be a problem. The pension of a retired GCO Specialist was exceedingly generous, likely because so few lived long enough to retire. What mattered is that he had operational independence. He could install his own systems, prepare his own network, cultivate his own contacts, and when victory was achieved it would be his victory.
Norman Kettlesworth reviewed the challenges his program would face. One flaw in the Cross-Continental Monitoring System would be the difficulty of sorting through alerts and filtering out state-sanctioned and non-Legion affiliated uses of fel magic from those that constituted a legitimate threat. Another would be deploying the sensitive and bulky equipment in Horde-controlled regions without alerting goblin fighter squadrons. Aerial insertion would be out of the question, but he had a possible solution in the works. The next challenge would be maintaining the equipment. Gnomish technology, while brilliant and unmatched, was . . . sensitive. The more advanced and experimental equipment required repair, redundancies, and oversight by a trained engineer in order for it to approach a minimum standard of reliability.
Norman looked up from his notes to rescue his rocket from crashing into a particularly stealthy mountain peak. The old gnome deftly made a few quick course adjustments, and then resolved to get some sleep. He'd be in Stormwind soon, and he was eager to parse the data from the test equipment he'd installed in the human city.
Farmer Gil let out an inhuman shriek as some sort of giant metal bullet tore through his barn and bounced up into the sky, taking with it the smoldering dreams of an honest man. This unfortunate occurrence led Norman to suspect that the Utterly-Reliable-Self-Guidance Feature's capabilities might have been overstated.
Edited by Kettlesworth on 4/24/2013 2:20 PM PDT
Selzen let out another sigh as he continued to work at the endless stacks of paperwork. No good deed goes unpunished, and his new position as Magistrate certainly left him with a lot of paperwork. It was only fate that he had decided to take his work to the Cathedral district so late that night, and he arrived in time just to see the figure scurry off before he noticed the now sickly fountain. A look of disgust crossed over his face as the man tucked away the last of that day's work into his satchel and moved forward to investigate. "Light save us all, I may just have to pick up my detective's badge again for this one." The man was fond of sighs, another one escaped him as he looked up to the corrupted head on top of Uther's hammer. His eyepiece telescoped outwards slightly to zoom in on it, a perturbed look growing on the man's face as he silently read the note.
11 Gnome Warrior
Taynte looks at the fountain, noticing the figure on top, the diseased Elk, and the water being tainted by the Elk's blood. She would go over, and look at the fountain, then up at the figure, as it walks off.
"What the cog?" She would say, and looks into the fountain, noticing it being a tainted green.
Risza hummed along to the dark, depressing music, her favorite, and crunched on some dried squid chips, also her favorite. She was deep beneath the earth at just this moment, a hidden cavern far beneath Stormwind. All manner of pipes and eye pieces reached down from the ceiling, each offering a labelled eye piece. These para-scopes looked in to the city above, and were installed with no small amount of stealth, but Avel wouldn't mind giving another pay cheque to the cause of truth.
From here Risza watched the entire city, intent on being near omniscient when it came to this city, determined to pry out a vital fact, one unknown to all but her, but her task was interrupted by a curious sight, a man, a rotting head, and a statue. Interesting, but what did it mean? Petty vandalism? A political message? Some kind of testament to rotting heads? Perhaps it was a statement on Uther's failure to protect Lordaeron from the undead... But he was only one man and one without a brilliant gnome woman at his side, there was no way he could have succeeded. Anyway, this mystery was clearly one for the Gnews Team to, probably make a whole lot worse, but they would try dammit!
She reached for the buttons to call her team, each one labelled: "The War God," "The Crossdressing Chemist," "The Blonde," "The Princess," "Lady Gorgeous," "The Raging Socialist," and of course "The Sana." She rammed her mitted hand against all the buttons, cursing as she had forgotten to take off her mittens, oh well, work for everyone.
Shojin causually strolls into the Cathedral Square, having just finished his daily meditations at the lake. He glances around at the people gathered in the square, gosip all abuzz about an elk head which was found hanging from Uther's hammer this very morning. Having peeked his interest he decides to check the statue out, his eyes immeditlely are drawn to bubbling, green waters of the fountain. Repulsed he backs away, seeking more information on this phenomenom which he knows very little about.
Sitting in her "office" (the Pig and Whistle), a deathly pale Knight can be seen writing up a letter in a rough scratchy hand that is at least legible if inelegant. Her quill rises and drops, scrawling out the words below:
Ebon Blade, Stormwind Detachment
Sender: Knight Arthruin Ironhand
Recipient: Acherus Command, Eastern Kingdoms
Copy to: Colonel Redamous, 1113th Regiment; All SWCD related personel.
During routine patrol contact was made with elf "Rama", apparent native of Stormwind, at about 17:00. Directed attention to Cathedral Square fountain where a rotting elk head had been placed with a note. See note transcript attached. Questioned the elf concerning immediate removal of head from city water source, recieved negative reply. Local security forces not present in vicinity and no cleanup crew evident. Citing ongoing friendly relations with Alliance, this Knight believes immediate removal of head required for sake of local inhabitants. Requisition for Ebon Gryphon sent and approved from local command officers. Applying infectious materials proceedures approriate for situation, using Scourge material recovery rubric as guide. Elk head will be bagged and stored pending investigation by local security. Pick up scheduled for 22:15 local time via Ebon Gyphon to minimize chance of infection of local flyer population.
Examination of note contents and glowing green nature of the contaminant in the water suggests existance of a splinter cult, likely elven. Green demonic type glow suggests contact with or shared magic sources with Burning Legion cults. Nature oriented focus of note suggests unclassified organization. No evidence of Scourge or Cult of the Damned noted at this time.
Advise general examination of water sources in friendly cities for similar threats or contamination. Advise patrols to secure primary water sources.
Knight Arthruin Ironhand
Stormwind City Detachment
(With Rama's approval my little death knight will remove the head. What kind of a Department of Public Works is Stormwind running? Rotting heads left out for a whole day?! Shoddy work...)
Edited by Arthruin on 4/24/2013 3:56 PM PDT
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