Occupational Hazards

I've seen quite gruesome sights on this journey, but this.. Fleshworks is something else. I've heard the stories and even fought some of the abdominations myself, but I've never seen them made. The floors are scattered with spare parts. Only.. every part once belonged to a living, breathing being. Now I understand why the captain forbade us from eating before battle.

"Private! Secure that cave!"

"Yes sir!"

There's two dead Geists on the entrance. I'm not taking any chances, so I crush their skulls just to make sure. Everything's covered by soot and ichor. Disgusting.

Eventually I arrive to one of the main chambers. The cave is illuminated by candles and torches, and I can barely see the edges. There's a toppled pile of metal bars on the floor. Someone's already been here. There's a figure standing next to a smooth slab of rock, with it's back turned against me. It's wearing a long, dark robe, the shoulderpads glow with unholy light and helm is made of bones. A necromancer! And the lump on the slab can only be his latest victim. The battle outside echoes in the caverns, so he must not have heard me. Yet. I have to take this chance.

"You monster!"

*whack*

My hammer is deflected from the bone spires protecting his head. He turns, and looks at me with glowing yellow eyes.

"Ow! Dat does it! Is it doo much to ask for some peace and quiet?!"

The voice does not belong to a human, and now I see the fangs. It's a troll witch. I swing again, but my hammer hits only air.

"You can rest when you are dead, fiend!"

"Here? Hardly."

...

Stupid. I should have saved my blessings until after the witch has hexed me. My legs are stuck in the ice, and the felfire around the witch is condescing into a spell.

"Now before ya die.. I wanna know someting. Who do ya work for?"

"The Crusade will have your head for this!"

"Wat a coincidence. I was due to visit yer nice port after dis."

"Has your brain already rotten away? The only port nearby belongs to the Scarlets."

"So yer not a Scarlet? Oh. Oh!"

The felfire fades along with the spell.

"Sorry about de misunderstandin'.  It seems dat we're on de same side today."

"Lies. Lord Fordring would never hire someone like ya."

"Ya'd be surprised. Anyway.. Meet Crusader Olakin. As ya can see, he needs some medical attention."

"By the Light, he's in pieces!"

"Indeed. Now, hand me de thread."

"What happened to him?"

"Occupational hazard. It seems dat sabotagin' one of the most powerful armies on Azeroth can have some consequences."

"What are you doing?"

"Fixin' him. Cloth, leather, flesh.. it's all de same. Saw, please."

..

"Dere. Now we just apply some power and.."

"I can't watch."

*gasp*

"It's.. it's alive. It's alive!"

"By the Light!"

"Wh.. where am I?"

"Hiya."

"I.. I died, didn't I?"

"Feelin' better?"

"Yes.. yes. Thank you, milady."

"So.. this troll does work for the the Argent Crusade?"

"Yes. Lady Shalkis has supported our cause since the Plaguelands. Lord Fordring can personally vouch for her."

"My apologies, miss. Miss?"

"Help me up. She's probably in the fray already."

A Little Push

Zul'Drak, the pride and joy of the Drakkari, who are brutal even by our standards. There is a sweet smell in the air, and it's not caused by the fortresses of death looming above, or my current prey. It's despair.

Their gatekeeper fortress, Drek'tharon has fallen. Their northwest border is being patrolled by the Scourge's trophies from the Storm Peaks, and the crusaders have enroached from the southwest. Their last bastion, Gul'drak, is teetering at the edge of oblivion. Their gods have turned against them, and in turn, they have turned against the gods. There is no place to run, no place to hide, and nobody to turn to. The Empire of Zul'Drak will die. Everyone knows it, even the Drakkari. All they need is a little push.

Well, more like a series of nudges. A new Scourge champion here, a crusader there.. All meticiously noted, cross-referenced and filed away by the Zandalar. The grand themes, the personal tragedies, the troop movements, and the minor details. Except.. a certain mercenary enjoying her work.

And there's so much to enjoy.  The righteous vengeance of emancipated slaves. The joy from a renewed offensive turning first into disbelief, hatred, fear and finally despair. The confusion of a soldier who's not sure whether he's looking at the face of his savior or his executioner. The glimmer of hope re-igniting in a washed-out god's eyes. Oh, and the killing. Oh yes. This is truly a blessed land. All of Azeroth is watching, and the audience is filled with luminaries. All I can say is..

Welcome to the great show.

Clarity

It feels like the world has changed overnight. It wasn't long before when my associates were both fearful and glad that I was working for them, taking offense of my methods and the pleasure I derive from my work, while still being glad that my spells were aimed at their foes. All of that is now in the past.

In the last day, I've started a genocide against two species, tested weapons of war on live subjects several times, interrupted lovers' reunions, examined brains, slain ageless giants and executed people whose only crimes were not to be able to take on a whole fortress all by themselves. I even killed parents in front of their children, kidnapped the kids afterwards and delivered them to some greasy, yet laid-back people who have their own plans for them.

I am a monster, and they love me for it.

And it's not just me. Everyone is running around with newfound purpose in life. It seems like everyone decided that this is the time to seize their fate. By any and all means necessary.

Sure, I had doubts. Fortunately, one of my newfound associates sensed my inner turmoil and sent me to deal with it on a mountaintop. I fought myself, and cast that weakling into the Great Dark. I feel so much lighter now. My purpose is clear. I do not know where my fate leads me, and I do not care. And I'm loving every minute of it. The flames at my fingertips, the foolhardy roars of my opponents, the smell of burnt flesh and that moment of perfect mix of terror and defiance when they realize that their fate was to die by my hand all along. It is.. intoxicating.

The End of the Beginning

The winds and the three-phase hum of the mongrels' spell pulls me back to the dreary reality of my predicament.
"Oh, ya are awake."
"You will never catch me unaware, mongrel."
"Now why would I wanna do dat, hm?"
The sound of metal clattering on rock attracts my interest and I turn my head. The troll has brought me my armor and weapons.
"Returning stolen property after the fact will not save your neck at the tribunal at Silvermoon, troll."
"But it might save yer own. Ya could have gotten it all back if ya just asked, but ya chose to.."
"I chose nothing! And no elf will ever accept.. scraps from a troll's table, assuming you ever know what such a thing is."
"Now dat is just rude. If ya do not accept a gift of life and freedom, perhaps ya will take it by force? Go on, dress up. Ya'll need yer.. scraps soon."

I grab my chestpiece and start strapping it on. I keep my blade and my bow at arm's length while I fit in the rest of my armor. There's no telling when the beast is finally unable to contain itself.

...

"Murderous mongrel. I wondered when the rampaging beast that you are would be unleashed."
"Ya'll see rampage all right. But murder requires intent and premeditation. Odderwise it's just plain old-fashioned killin'. I have no intention of killin' ya, derefore I'm not a murderer. Not.. yer murderer, anyway."
A lack of killing spirit, a fatal weakness. The limp arm is an another, and exposes her flank to my attacks. Cutting through her shoulderpads should not be a problem, but her sorcery might slow my blade enough. I'll have to sink my blade to her armpit, past that useless arm. Still, getting into position can prove to be difficult and I have to exploit any openings immediately.. If only I had Airin to distract her..
"Even Airin's blood was purer than yours. You deserve death for just what you did to her."
"Perhaps ya should have not sent it to it's death so easily. Dat's not someting a responsible master would do."
"Silence!"
I make a rising sweep towards her limp arm. If I can just cut it off..
The troll takes a half-step backwards and chuckles: "Oo, frisky, aren't we?"
"Shut up and die."
I follow up with a downward lunge, driving my blade towards her other shoulder. Forcing her to plummet to the death she planned for me might not help me get down, but will be immensely satisfying.
The troll takes a sidestep and my blade hits nothing but air. I feel magic around her and instictively turn around, ready to block her poisonous, pitch-black blade. She may not possess strength, but one hit from that accursed blade would put me at even worse disadvantage. Her blow is harmlessly blocked, but I doubt she'd have the strength to split my skull anyway. She doesn't even try to press through my defence, but feints a thrust and retracts her blade only to lunge again. My armor deflects her blow and I press my sword down towards her outstretched arm. She lifts her blade up and only barely misses my head. Our weapons clang together. I force my blade down to her hilt and push her away. I feel her magic and make a broad sweep with my now-released blade with a single arm to my back and feel a satisfying clang. And a rather unsatisfactory sting in my wrist. Damn. The cut wasn't deep, but I can already feel the blade's powers working against me. I turn around and grip the blade with both hands. There's no more time for finesse. I push my blade and complete the sweep, but she ducks and deflects my strike upwards. She lunges forwards and nicks my cheek with the tip of her pitch-black, seething blade. For a moment, I thought I saw.. it's just her damn tricks. I continue the swing and make it a full circle. The force of my blow sends her reeling backwards.

"You are weak, troll."
"Two points for me, zero for ya."
"This isn't a game!".
"Says ya. Now stop tryin' to hit me and hit me."
"Die!"

The curse is taking effect. Her blue robes seem to be drenched in shadows, and her eyes burn. Her blade seems less like a weapon, and more like an extension of her arm. The limp arm flays in the wind like tattered cloth. I don't have much time before the fear takes hold of me. I lunge forward, but hit only shadows. The back of my neck explodes with pain, and I feel like touched by death itself. I make a wide sweep and hear that satisfying clang which echoes in my mind. I resume my two-handed grip and lash out at the shadows. The pain finds an opening in my elbow joint and slithers in. Another snakes around my waist, and the third almost forces me to drop my blade. How did it get so fast? Or did I get slower? Where are those eyes? I must strike at the eyes.. I hear a strong breathing sound all around me, like a dragon preparing to..

"EnOUGh."
The sound seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. And not just one. Legion. The shadows flow back into a vaguely humanoid form. Her handclaw scrapes the rocks, and the seven imps are laughing at me, while the sixty-seven mouths just grin.
"it SeeMS datdatdatdat ya lost"
"Lost! Lost! Lost!"
"yer ChanCE to reCLAIm yer fre-fre-freeDOM by force."
"Force! Force! Force!"
"but FEAR not."
"Fear! Fear! Fear!"
"To-to-to-to-day IS dE day OF fORGiveness. aLL can be UNdone."
"Undone! Undone! Undone!"
"Observe."
My vision clears for a moment, and I see the blue, gold-trimmed sleeve being rolled back, revealing a blue four-fingered hand and a skeletal elbow. I hear the sky being drained. Shadows snake from the rest of the arm along the brilliant white bone, grabbing the flesh on the other side. More, and more. And more. I did not cause that wound, and in the matter of seconds it's no longer there. The arm flexes and is consumed by the shadows. How could I even hope to defeat such a thing?

"Seeeeeeeee. Aaaallllll bettttttteerrrr."

Despair grabs me by her hooks and I slump to my knees.
"Please. I'll.. I'll do anything."
The three-hundred and five mouths erupt into laughter.
"Anything! Anything! Anything!", the imps mock me.
"So nooooooooooooow ya gro-gro-gro-gro-growel."
The laughter is blue.
"Very well. I shall make ya a hero. A champion for yer people. But first, ya must reclaim de memory of de past and de rage of de present. At de ruins of Mathystra resides a lost soul who seeks a worthy cause. And near de Vector Coil ya'll find rage incarnate, courtesy of yer esteemed prince. Make sure to document everying ya see in de isles for yer fellow Farstriders. Now go."
"Where?"
"Right past dat platform."
And it is gone, along with the three imps and the three thousand mouths. When did it leave? I feel dotted pink. I pick up my bow, and it coils around my back. I look into the abyss, and take a step. The wind screams around me as I fall and..
I find myself in a cave, looking at an opening. A tauren seems to be sleeping near the campfire. I walk quietly to the night.

The Complaint

"It dinna work!"
"As explained before, The Royal Apothecary Society disclaims all responsibility resulting from the use of our.."
"I did exactly as ya told me. I took two doses before, den increased my adrenalin output to de specified level via combat, den took two more doses immediately afterwards."
"..products, especially those that are deemed to be experimental by senior members of the Royal Apothecary Society. Furthermore, the Royal Apothecary Society has a policy of not offering any assurances on the validity or the feasibility of such a product. If you wish to make a complaint.."
"Look at dis! Is did yer idea of a healthy trollish ear? It's as thin as paper! A small swipe and it tore right off my head!"
".. regarding the Royal Apothecary Society, including but not limited to myself or my superiors, you may do so.."
*sigh*
"..as soon as a suitable opening is found on one of the Dark Lady's attendants' schedules. You will be informed in time of your appointment and are required to bring any evidence you may have of the alledged derelictions of duty.."
"Are ya even listening?"
"..as well as any other material that would be of use when deciding such a matter, including but not limited to malformed body parts.."
"Ya bet it's malformed!"
"..that prove that the regenerative process was interrupted in violation of our specific instructions.."
"It was just a leetle elf, nottin' to worry about."
"..by any outside influences, humanoid or bestial.."
"And had a kitty dat may have took a bite out of me.."
"..which are beyond the Royal Apotheacry Society's control. Furthermore, you are required to prove that the Royal Apothecary Society was supplied.."
"If ya could just mix up a new batch.."
"..with all requested knowledge prior to the formation of the business relationship, including but not limited to information about previously undisclosed wounds, such as.."
"We could call it even and I'd be on my way."
"..severe musculature loss on limbs which would cause the regenerative effect focus on such wounds instead of desired body parts."
*sigh* Very well. Let's forget de complaint. Could you mix up a batch dat would heal both my ears and my arm?"
"I am authorized to agree to such a request, provided that the Royal Apothecary Society is provided with adequate compensation.."
"Of course I'll pay. And I'll get anyting ya need for it."
"..as well any and all materials which currently cannot be provided by the Royal Apothecary Society without prior authorization from the Dark Lady. In addition, instructions provided by the Royal Apothecary Society must be followed without fail. The Royal Apothecary Society disclaims any responsibility from use or misuse of products whether the instructions are followed or not. To achive desired results in an inferior specimen.."
*mutter*
"..the specimen's natural blood flow must be accelerated to the highest flowspeed that such a specimen is rated for. The specimen must not be allowed to sustain any injuries during the regenerative process, for an interruption of the process could result in side effects, including but not limited to, loss of conciousness, diminished mental capacity, uncontrollable hemorrhage, paralysis, stroke and death. Clients are advised to proceed cautiously even after signs of activity have ceased on the specimen."
"Here's de payment. When will it be ready?"
"The Royal Apothecary Society has a policy of refraining to disclose any specific timetables. The clients will be informed when the requested products are available."
"I'll come back later den."
"May the Dark Lady watch over you."

Matters of Faith

The soothing rays of the sun wake me. I spend the first few hours of the day scouring every inch of my spire. If there was a way up, there must also be a way down. I carefully examine the drawing, because it seems to be my best hope for now. It has three concentric rings, surrounded by runes and joined by a few lines. I try to remember how the inscriptions on the translocator orbs back home looked like. There are some similarities, but this crude drawing won't respond to my touch. I break a small chunk from the bread to serve as my breakfast.

Then.. the runes of the drawing light up. Rings of light rise from the inscription and I hear a familiar three-phase hum. Someone's coming. Friend? Foe?

The figure materializes before me with it's back turned. It has a blueish robe filled with intricate patterns of grey runes and ornate shoulderpads with similar patterns and.. blue dreadlocks! It's the troll! Where's my weapon? That damn troll took it.. I'll just use my own body as a weapon. I sprint towards the she-troll and ready my shoulder for the impact. She hears my footsteps and turns, but way too late. My tackle forces her off-balance and tumbling towards the edge. I press my advantage and pin her to the ground, leaving my arms free to choke the life out of her. But before I can get a good grip, her left arm shoots up to my neck, and my shorter arms no longer reach hers. Her grip is cold and I'm.. having trouble... breathing. Each breath I take... is filled with freezing cold air. My... strength... escapes me.

"Get off me."

I look down. I was not just seeing things in the cave, this she-troll is hideous, even by their own standards. Dim red eyes, burn marks everywhere. One ear missing and the another hanging on a few strands of flesh. A gaping wound on the neck. A featureless expression on her face, if you can call it that. Her grip tightens around my neck and the cold intensifies. I gasp, but all I accomplish is to fill my lungs with even colder air.

I slowly fall to the side and try to breathe. From the corner of my eye I see her get up. I hear flesh tearing and her other ear drops in front of me.

"Are ya Horde?"

"*cough* What are you blabbering about, freak?"

"Let's do dis in de long-winded way, den. Are ya loyal to de Nation of Quel'thalas and Regent Lord Lor'themar Theron, who rules by de decree of Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, heir to de throne of Quel'thalas?"

"*cough* Of course."

"Are ya aware of de Regent Lord's edict dat proclaims dat Quel'thalas has entered a mutual defense treaty wit de nation of Lordaeron, led by Dark Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, de Nation of Durotar, led by Warchief Thrall, de Nation of Mulgore, led by Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof and de free trolls led by Shadow Hunter Vol'jin?"

"*cough* *cough* Yes."

"Are ya aware dat dis alliance is commonly referred to as de Horde?"

"*cough* Yes. Get to the point, beast!"

"I ask ya again.. are ya Horde?"

She points her left hand towards me, opening her three fingers like a claw, conjuring a blue mass of sparkling, whirling energy. The sky seems to darken, and the winds swirl towards the spell, which seems to dominate my field of vision.

"If ya are not, I am well within my rights to end yer life right here, right now. Are ya Horde?"

"Yes!"

The energies intensify and swirl around her arm.

"Are ya aware of de penalty for an unprovoked attack on a fellow member of de Horde wit an intent to keel?"

"You threatened me in Silvermoon! You are the one who should be on trial for treason!"

"But I dinna attack ya."

"You only got what you deserved, beast!"

"And wat exactly is dat we deserve?"

"All of you beasts should be put to the flame! Beasts with tusks who grovel before their heathen gods like worms! Vile green brutes who the humans should have exterminated during the war! We eat cows, we don't invite them to our dinner tables! And just because they call themselves the Forsaken shouldn't spare them from burning in righteous fire!"

"All of you beasts should be put to the flame! Beasts with tusks who grovel before their heathen gods like worms! Vile green brutes who the humans should have exterminated during the war! We eat cows, we don't invite them to our dinner tables! And just because they call themselves the Forsaken shouldn't spare them from burning in righteous fire!"

She is using my voice, replicating my words exactly, with every intonation in place. The graceful movement of my lips do not fit on her grotesque face. I feel sick. If she would repeat those words, even in Silvermoon..

"Such cruel words. However.. I believe in second chances. I tink ya are.. salvageable."

She presses her fingers together and a shockwave of energy shoots outward, barely missing my head.

"Ya still cling to de lies of de Alliance, even after dey left yer people to rot. Dose who attacked de lands which formerly belonged to Zul'Aman are not de Horde as it exists today.."

"An orc is an orc! And a troll is a troll! Even a freak such as yourself!"

"Are dey now? Tell me, wat was de color of de orcs dat ya fought against before? Gray? Green? Blue? Brown? No. Dey were red. And not just plain red like mine. Seethin', burning red. Each and every one of dem. And as for de trolls.. did ya known dat Shadow Hunter Vol'jin's tribe was banished? Did ya know wat deir crime was?"

"I can hardly think of anything the trolls would be beneath of doing."

"We have done more dan our share of mistakes, ya. But to answer my own question.. dey refused to grovel before a heathen god like worms. Dey refused to practice de old ways yer people know so well. To dis day, all trolls of de Horde are forbidden from practicin' cannibalism."

"Why are you telling me all this propaganda? To brainwash me?"

"I have no such intentions. However, ya lack.. faith in yer fellow Horde."

"So you want me to worship you? Never! Let me go this instant!"

"Me? Of course not. Dis is no prison, and I am not yer jailor. Dere are no bars, no locked doors, no guards. Yer equipment is waitin', nottin' has been stolen."

"Not a prison? How am I supposed to get down?"

"Ah, but dere's de trick. I doubt dat ya'll believe me even if I told ya, so... I tink it's better to show ya."

She starts walking towards the platform.

"I checked that already."

"De platform itself is nottin' special. Dis is a leap of faith of sorts."

"You seriously expect me to jump?"

"Expect? No. But dat's wat ya will have to do."

She takes a step past the platform and falls. I hear her robe flutter in the air and I crawl to the platform and look down. She's gone. A trick. All of it. She's trying to fill my head with lies. To confuse me enough to kill myself. There must be a different way..

Meditations at the Edge

Wh.. where am I? I'm.. back at Eversong. I feel.. numb. That troll really did a number on me.. I have to find a physician. Maybe there's someone in the capital..

Where are all the guards? How would they dare desert their posts? Why are the gates open? And what's that smell? Oh no.. burning flesh! I try hurry inside, but my legs have lost their vigor, and I think I'm missing a tendon.

The capital.. A thick plume of smoke rises from somewhere near the Sunfury Spire, and there's blood on the cobblestones. Are we being invaded again? I crouch and reach towards the blood. I hope it's trollish. My hand is gray and withered. I need a physician.. and soon.

A scream interrupts me. I turn, and see a lady, wearing the colors of the house Sunfalcon.

"Miss, no need to be alarmed. I am a ranger, and will defend you as long as I'm able." At least, that's what I try to say. All I hear is gurgling. I sprint towards her. But why? There's no immediate danger.. She tries to run. I jump and grab her. She tries to struggle. Tasty.. What?! What am I thinking? My.. claws sink into her supple flesh. I cannot control myself. I wish to scream, but I know it won't help.

"Vile abdomination!", I hear from behind me. My head turns, and I see a Magister in golden robes, conjuring a spell.

"Kill me!", I yell. The fiery blast tears through my chest, and I feel cold. Cold?

The pain in my elbow draws me back to reality. My body aches and the wind bites into my flesh. I'm lying on a rocky surface with barely any clothes on me. I open my eyes, and the night sky fills my vision. Where am I?

I'm.. still in Thousand Needles. Or rather.. on one of them. There's "needles" as far as my eyes can see, and I have a hard time approximating my location. However, this one seems to have a wooden platform built into it. I don't see any ropes, elevators or other means of escape, though. There is a curious drawing on the rocks, apparently of tauren design. And.. a brown leather bag. I pick it up and open it. I slowly reach into the bag and my hand finds a bottle. Judging from the blue color, it seems to be a mana potion, so I drink it immediately. Judging from my thirst, it's been at least two days since my defeat in the cave. I absent-mindedly grab a loaf of bread from the bag and sit down for my meal. What happened after I passed out? Who brought me here? And why here, of all places?

RP, PvP and improvisation

Drama in four easy steps, Defias Brotherhood-style:

1. Hold an RP event


2. Interrupt the said event with an opposite faction raid


3. Accuse the defenders of being carebears


4. Accuse the attackers of being OOC

Add some forum trolling for flavor and leave it to fester for a while.

Apparently some people still think that RP and PvP are mutually exclusive concepts. If you PvP, you can't be RPing. And proper RP doesn't include PvP, especially the sort where you lose. I've seen the same arguments before on my first server, Argent Dawn Europe. Fortunately, there were some guilds who showed the third way. That RP can be adapted to PvP, and that PvP raids can be motivated by RP. A lesson that has been forgotten by too many. What better way is there to kick off some random RP than to having to organize an ad-hoc defense? But no, instead of even trying to actually react to the actions of other players, their actions are labelled as OOC only because they don't fit in your idea on how the event should have progressed.

If you want total control over your RP, I suggest that you stick to writing stories. But if you want to improvise and actually play with other players.. I'll see you in the game.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't

Defias forums keep supplying me with drama, and today is not an exception. This time someone's quitting the game and blames Blizzard for banning a pedophile-friendly guild.

Granted, that's only a small part of his argument, and I even agree with him on some of the points, particularly on Blizzard's habit of making large parts of the world obsolete. However, like in many other quitting posts, the point is not about making valid, constructive criticism. Instead, he opts to disguise his opinion as the general consensus of the player base. Because he mentions all the alternative games and singles out a few people for praise, I think he's only testing the waters. I think his purpose is just to see how many people would follow him. In other words, a last-ditch attempt in attention-seeking.

Well, he's got mine. Flamewars are fun to watch.

Out of Your League

Being a Farstrider was not exactly as glamorous as Lieutenant Dawnrunner had claimed it to be. Yes, one of the first assignments was to reclaim our land from the vile Scourge, the barbaric Kal'dorei and the sadistic trolls. A noble and just cause, one that I had been privileged to be part of. And as a token of appreciation for Lordaeron's help, my superiors had ordered me to assist in the defense of Lordaeron. Seeing the camps, the hanged and the empty graves revealed all too well the truth about our former.. "allies". A fate of slavery, disgrace and death that the Prince was wise to reject. All in all, re-enlisting had seemed like a good choice. Until now.

Dust. Wind. Cliffs as far as my elven eyes can see. Man-horses and mongrels everywhere. The wisdom of my superiors eludes me. I try, but I cannot see how I can serve the High Home in this ravaged place. I should be waging war against the Kal'dorei in Ashenvale or recovering manuscripts written by ancient masters in Azshara. Not.. scurrying favor with the bull-men.

Airin growls. She has discovered an unusual smell. I slight nod from me, and my graceful lynx bursts into action, her fur-tipped ears perking up. I can feel her excitement, and it's almost intoxicating. Maybe it's one of the Kal'dorei or even a dwarf? Maybe they'll leave me alone if I bring back some proof of an enemy scouting party..

Airin blazes through a narrow passage, and stops to wait for me. There was a small clearing behind the spires. As I catch up, I see that the clearing has been stained red. Airin slowly manouvers past the two bodies, not even stopping to smell them. The bodies belonged to harpies, but I'm having a hard time figuring out what killed them. No lacerations, no crushed bones.. but it's as if there's something missing from them.

Airin growls again. She's found something. An empty bottle. Airin resumes tracking the scent while I examine the bottle. Clearly the type used by alchemists. A few drops of a greenish liquid are still within, but I cannot identify the substance by smell alone, and I am not going to taste it. Beyond the opening lies a sloping path upwards, towards a cave. There is an another bottle at the top of the slope, and yet another at the mouth of the cave. Cries of the harpies echo from the cave. Airin carefully steps into the cave, moving as silently as only the finest felines can. Three more dead harpies lie on the path. Whatever entered here had no problem dispatching them. Airin's ears perk up right before the cries of the harpies crescendo. They are fighting the intruder. I hear sharp claws tearing flesh. Airin continues on her steady pace. She is no stranger to the ways of the hunt. Wait until the prey has tired itself out, then strike. I ready my bow.

The cries stop. With my nod, Airin dashes around the corner, and moments later I hear her vicious growls, a thud and her claws tearing flesh. I run past the corner and aim. Airin has felled a some sort of a humanoid and ripping apart it's back. Torn cloth flies in the air. Airin grabs the humanoid's neck between her jaws and drags it away from the cave wall, allowing me to make the finishing blow. The blood has colored the prey's blueish flesh purple. I see two-toed, bare feet. A troll. My lucky day. But then I hear something I have not heard before.

Airin yelps in terror. It takes me a moment to realize why. She's been impaled by.. something. Her precious blood drips along the shaft of the troll's weapon. Then she yelps as she is impaled yet again. She goes limp, but the beast won't stop. It impales by beautiful Airin again. And again. And again.

"You'll pay for your crimes in blood, beast!", I find myself yelling in my native Thalassian. I release my arrow and immediately prepare an another.. but it was right there.. behind me!

I reflexively shield myself with my bow as I turn, but to no avail. It impales my elbow with something cold. I dive to my left and out of it's sight. I grab my Sin'dorei Warblade from my back, but my elbow is complicating things. I'm having trouble holding it high. I will not be able to do much damage, but this will have to do. I hear the beast's footsteps, and some sort of a grating sound.. like metal on stone. Of course. Not even a troll could have much strength left after that beating. It is handicapped as well. As it walks around the corner, I swing my sword low. Just as I'm about to cut it's feet off.. the blade strikes an invisible barrier, elicting a small hum. I look up towards the she-troll..

Ow! The bitch slashed my face! How dares she?! A low hum reaches my ears and I roll behind a rock, slamming my injured elbow to the cold stone. The patch of stone where I lay just moments before freezes instantly. Great. A troll witch. I look at my bloodied hand.. since when was my blood black? And it's awfully cold in here.. I need a breather to bandage my elbow and then.. the witch will taste justice. I look around, spot an another cave entrance and sprint towards it.

...

This cut really stings.. what did it hit me with? And how can such a small cut bleed so much? I need to get this quickly under control. With my good arm, I grab a roll of bandages from my pocket and roll it over my face. There. That should stop the bleeding. I take a look at my elbow and to my surprise, I see an icicle sticking through it. I grab the thick end and slowly pull it out. By Sun, this hurts.. After three very long seconds, the icicle dislodges from my elbow and shatters on the floor of the cave. I wrap the remaining bandages around my elbow. After this I will need to pay a visit to a priestess. Or if I'm fortunate, I'll encounter a Blood Knight in a good mood..

I listen to the scraping sound. The she-troll is moving closer, dragging her weapon along the floor. I sneak a peek around the corner. Her tattered robes are stained with her blood. One of the shoulder straps has been torn, and the other one is barely holding the robe together. Blood slowly flows from her neck, and her dreadlock-covered head is resting on her shoulder pad. Good old Airin. Even in her death throes she managed to inflict a mortal wound to her foe. The she-troll keeps her weapon behind her, but it seems like a some sort of a sword. A long one, judging from her posture. Her other arm hangs limply. But how is it still standing, let alone walking? I have seen trolls succumb to less grievous wounds.

She clumsily swings her sword up front, and then drags it back behind her along the floor.. Are my eyes deceiving me? The blade seemed to cut the air itself, revealing the darkness behind. What sorcery is this? The she-troll does it again, and now I see the blade clearly. It's as black as the darkest night, drawing my gaze in..

The she-troll stops. It slowly raises the blade and starts to cut the air.. Gah! She's cutting my face again! How? The cut on my face reopens and black blood seeps through the bandages. Is this the "voodoo" the Forsaken mentioned? How am I supposed to fight that? I turn back behind the wall and try to stand up, but my legs are powerless. Augh! She's doodling on my chest with her cursed blade! I need to get away.. I need to get away.. I crawl along the wall, trying to find an another entrance. I hear the scraping sound again. I turn around to my back.

The she-troll is deteriorating in front of my very eyes. Her robe is moth-ridden and her skin ashen gray. The blood has dried and is as black as mine. The sleeve on her limp arm is torn, revealing her gray bones underneath. One of her ears drops to the floor unceremoniously , but she does not bleed. She keeps swinging her sword in front of her, leaving a trail of black.. smoke in it's wake. The scraping sound is loud, loud enough to tear into my skull..

"I killed you! Stay back! Stay back!"

I blink, and she is standing right next to me. The pungent stench of death fills my nostrils. she raises her sword-arm across her maggot-ridden chest, starts the swing and..

Anyone who stops people grinding through constant killing is corpse camping!

This comment and other gems are available at the latest trainwreck in action, courtesy of the Defias Brotherhood forums.

This story is as old as the PvP servers themselves, but it deserves retelling. A boy meets a girl. The boy and the girl go and blackmail people. They gank someone. The gankee refuses to pay up, fight back or leave. They gank him again. The gankee posts on the forums. The feeding frenzy begins

Learn From the Masters

Bask your eyes in the ultimate in raid specs.

An Inevitable Outcome

"..and make sure that you pick up the next shipment of bandages from Nutral. Oh, and don't forget the letter to Baron Revilgaz about our purchase order. Those jumper cables will be direly needed if the Betrayer makes a move."

"I'm on it. Is that all, Sha'nir?"

"For the moment, yes. Also.."

Sha'nir did not finish her sentence. She heard a scraping sound from outside. Like metal on stone. She glanced over the shoulder of the human volunteer and at the tall figure standing in the doorway of the Shattrath Infirmary.

"Can I help you?"

The figure took a step forward. As Sha'nir's eyes adjusted to the light, she could see the figure better. It was a slim one, obviously a female. It was wearing a blue robe, tattered with blood. The right arm was hanging limply and the left arm was lazily holding a long sword. The tip of the blade was being dragged along the floor. The arms ended in large, ornate shoulder guards. The head was resting on an unnatural angle on the left shoulder guard, with dirty dreadlocks covering the face. An undead?

Before the figure could answer, it collapsed on the floor.

"Quick! Get my kit and prepare the table!"

---

Sha'nir's report on unnamed female troll admitted into the infirmary at the eighteenth hour of the sixteenth day of the month.

Third and fourth ribs broken on the right side. Right shoulder dislodged from it's socket. Right elbow shattered and flesh peeled off. Deep lacerations on abdomen, possibly caused by a large feline or other wildlife. Superficial horizontal cuts on both sides of the face, neck and torso. Small amounts of salt found in several wounds. A horizontal burn mark on the left side of the face and a small, deep burn mark in the middle of the chest. Several tendons on the neck severed. Both ears cut off by a large blade. Severe blood loss. Numerous vertical cuts on the back. The formation of scar tissue suggests that these wounds were inflicted much earlier than others.

Treatment: Subject stabilized. Elbow reinforced and immobilized with temporary metal bars and shoulder re-attached. Wounds cleaned and bandaged. Head supported and tendons stitched together. Prescribed Strong Troll's Blood intravenously. Subject is still unconscious, but is responding to treatment.

At the time of admission, the subject was wearing an enchanted blue robe with gray trims. Andrion Darkspinner indentified the material as Frozen Shadoweave cloth, but declined to identify the subject. The subject was also holding a long, deep purple, ornate sword. Superficial examination revealed that the sword is enchanted, but offered no hints on the subject's identity.

The Grand Crusade

Aah.. there they are.

Shalkis adjusted the zoom on her goggles to get a better view. With a quiet whirring sound, the ragged band of humans came into view. Their numbers had halved since they had fled from their ill-fated assault on Brill. Among the withered plants lie at least a dozen of the survivors. A few of the figures were standing and judging by their gestures, having a heated conversation.

Shalkis adjusted the zoom again. Unsurprisingly one of the figures was Seiken Trollbane, but she did not recognize the others, but there was one of the humans' holy men among them. Apparently Trollbane now had official approval for his.. crusade. Of course, by now it was obvious that the crusade had turned out less glorious than they thought. She had heard that the bulk of the forces were now maggot food at Arathi. Additional reports spoke dismissedly of the combat prowess of these forces. Just a few soldiers, but many apprentrices, younglings, old people, feeble human females and other rabble. These were the hard core, the zealots. And even among them, the morale was obviously crumbling.

Shalkis heard a growl behind her. Before she could turn, the growl was followed by the dull humming of her barrier. One of the mangy beasts inhabiting the area had made the grave mistake of picking her as it's next meal. Without looking behind her, she extended her arm and grabbed the wolf's muzzle with her hand. Her soft whisper was followed by a muffled yelp, and the beast struggled for a second to free itself from her grip. The struggling stopped. She released her grip and pulled her arm back. With her other hand, she broke away the bloodied icicle extending from her palm.

With the distraction out of the way, she was free to monitor the humans once again. The wounded were being helped back to their feet. The conversation had stopped, and the Trollbane was standing in front of the others, barking out commands. Whatever disagreements they did have were now resolved. Those who still had horses mounted them.

They started to move at a walking pace south, towards Brill. Surely they were not foolish enough to attempt an another assault against the heavily guarded town? She followed them, making sure to keep at least a hill or a tree between herself and the humans. When they reached the outskirts of Brill they broke formation and started running, past Brill and towards Undercity. But a few of them could not run anymore.

This is insane, even for him.

That move made no sense whatsoever, but one should not doubt such obvious blessings. If Trollbane really wanted to die, all he had to to was to ask. But to bring so many down with him.. She took off her goggles and strapped a wooden mask to her face. The pale glow from her hands illuminated the grim features of her mask.

Shadra, bless these fools.

A frozen missile erupted from her hands and pierced the lung of an elf. The next one found his heart.

For they have listened to the lies of the infidels.

An another bolt struck the leg of a dwarf, shattering it and sending him tumbling down a hill.

And know nothing of your grace.

An icicle impaled the dwarf, halting his fall and his life.

Let them fall into your web, and not to the darkness.

A female Draenei's head was engulfed in ice, causing her to fall backwards and shatter her head on the gray cobblestones.

Let them not be judged by the sins of others in the afterlife.

A gnome was completely encased in ice. Shalkis saw him futilely gasp for air.

And may their next life be a trollish one.

The frigid winds shattered his prison, along with him.

A single voice yelled from inside the city. She still couldn't understand Gutterspeak, but she knew the meaning of this particular phrase.

Once soldiers of Lordaeron..

The yell was answered by a chorus of voices behind her.

Always soldiers of Lordaeron.

What followed was inevitable. In a few minutes, there was nobody left to bless.

The Trollish Art of Diplomacy

Shalkis had spotted a contingent of Red Blade works exiting the jungle outpost of Grom'Gol. Windclaw tilted his head quizzically. The raptor was as intrigued as his mistress. With a tug of the harness, Windclaw darted into the jungle. It was not time to reveal herself yet.

Shalkis directed Windclaw on a small hill overlooking the road to the Arena. She sent the raptor away and sat next to the tree. She adjusted her goggles to get a better view of the road without compromising her position. And waited.

Eventually the orcs came into view. Young orcs. Old orcs. Strong orcs. Weak orcs. Even Taerak. Leading the group was a female orc with a wolf at her side. She must be the Matron. Akesha. As Shalkis had guessed, they were heading towards the Arena. And there was only one group that called it home. The Second Gurubashi Empire.

The Empire and the Red Blade? Odd. Ever since Tziak had taken over, the xenophobia had run rampant within the empire. Why would they even allow the orcs inside their Arena? It had to be a trap. And although the orcs would probably consider it dishonorable to even think to avoid a head-on confrontration, they would always appreciate some tactical advice. Shalkis dug deep into one of her pockets and retrieved a small whistle. If the Empire was indeed there, one extra raptor call would not be considered odd.

In less than a minute, the familiar figure of Windclaw appeared from the bushes, his fangs gleaming with fresh blood. He had eaten his fill, and would not mind waiting outside the Arena. She mounted the blue raptor and rode to the road and towards the Arena.

The orcs had taken up positions at the southern end of the Arena, and the Empire was at the north side. The ramp was filled by Blood Elves. Their presence was not surprising. A few months ago the Empire had sent a crate of elven heads to Silvermoon. Now they sought to return the favor. But since they were still not completely accepted into the Horde, they could not act rashly. There would be no point in charging the trolls, only to have the orcs charge them. They had to wait for the orcs' approval.

Rlaris, one of the Blooddrinkers was acting as an announcer. The standards had indeed been dragged through the mud if they allowed him into the esteemed ranks of the Blooddrinkers.. Once they were trolls of the highest honor, champions in the fight against the Hakkari, upholders of the law. Now they were simple thugs..

Shalkis heard the words and could not believe her ears. A negotiation for peace? Preposterous. There had to be a trick. Something that gave the Emperor leverage to force the orcs to submit. The Blood Elves around her were as sceptical as she was.

The two forces circled around the arena edge towards the ramps. As the orcs passed her, Shalkis spoke.

"A word of advice about trollish politics. Always prepare for a fight."

The warning had been given.

The orcs settled on the southern end of the Arena floor, and the trolls on the northern end. Akesha and Tziak approached each other, flanked by bodyguards. They were ready to start. But one of the orcish bodyguards eyed the crimson sand with suspicious eyes, aimed his flare gun and fired. The flare landed on the western part of the arena, right next to the ramps. And right next to the brightly burning flare was a very surprised assassin. An orc, but her tabard was one of the Sixty Thieves, an organization that recognized no wows or racial unity, only the will of the highest bidder. The female looked around sheepishly and leaned on the arena wall. Maybe this was Tziak's plan? To get an orc to assassinate Akesha to spark a civil war among the orcs? No.. there had to be more to this.. What about that Forsaken at his side? He was in plain sight and clearly in the favor of the trolls. If he acted it would be too obvious. There had to be more.

The trolls were shouting insults, mocking the blood elves and claiming that they had ridiculed the orcs' ancestors. No doubt it was true, but.. the orcs remained relatively calm. A few stinging rebukes were uttered. This can't be Tziak's grand plan, either. A shouting match?

Shalkis adjusted her goggles to get a better view, but the two negotiatiors had started to walk back towards the ramps. Was it over already?

At first the trolls did not notice him and walked right past her. Akesha, the matron addressed the blood elves. Tziak did the same, although he spoke no words himself, but instructed Rlaris to speak for him in Orcish. The Blood Elves were asked to leave. They of course resisted and wanted their revenge. But for a change, the cooler heads prevailed and the Blood Elves moved back to the entrance of the Arena. With the issue of hecklers somewhat resolved, the negotiations continued.

Oh yes.

Shalkis adjusted her goggles to get a better view. She could not hear Tziak's words from this distance, but the reactions of the orcs were more than enough. Their anger grew, word by word. Distrust turned into dislike, apprehension turned into disgust. Slow, calculated gestures turned into sharp, rash movements. What could he be saying to them to anger them so? And yet, he seemed oblivious to the effects. His face was hidden by his mask, but his gestures were as disinterested as always. Then.. Akesha's surprisingly strong voice echoed in the Arena.

"You all heard, Tziak admits he plotted to kill me."

That.. was Tziak's grand plan? To admit his treachery to people who value honor more than their lives? Before Shalkis could fully grasp the meaning of Akesha's words the warcries of the orcs.. and the elves filled the air, along with blood, fire and death of various colors and forms. The trollish bodyguards were cut down in seconds and the masked face of Tziak vanished in the veritable sea of angry orcs. Scores of elves were already jumping into the arena, raining down death and destruction upon the shocked trolls. In less than a minute, there were only orcs and elves standing on the Arena.

"What a mess", a male voice spoke in trollish. Shalkis was sure that she had heard him before.. but when she turned she did not recognize him.

"Ah yes. Tziak still has the touch. I have to admit that this was quite impressive. Not only has he allowed the Alliance to roam the vale, he also brought the wrath of thee orcs and the elves upon the trolls.", she replied.

That comment sparked an angry glare from the unknown troll male. But before he could act, he spotted the orcs walking up the ramp and wisely stepped aside.

---

The orcs were celebrating, brawling and drinking at Orgrimmar, under one of the few palm trees still left in the city. A veiled figure, dressed in blue from head to approached them.

"Matron Akesha of de Red Blades, a few words if ya will..."

Blood, Fire, Death

"The Weaver has certainly blessed me today.", Shalkis thought. No bodyguards.. no sycophants.. not even servants. The prey is completely exposed. He slowly walked around the edge of the arena, oblivious of the two red eyes starting at him through the thin slits of Shalkis' wooden mask. She carefully walked around the outer edge of the stony steps of the auditorium. Too much was at stake to be caught now.. She followed him around until he sat on the edge of the Arena. She was now convinced that he was alone and approached.

"Hello."
Tziak turned slowly and gazed towards Shalkis.
"Greetings."
"I didn't expect to see you here, but.. Could you step into the Arena?"
"Hmm...A familiar voice...Shalkis?"
Shalkis drew her sword and held it lazily, with the tip pointing towards the ground.
"Pretty please?"
"Planning on making a sacrifice? Not wishing to converse? How unlike you, Shalkis..."
Tziak stood slowly.
"Of course not. An example."
"An example of what?"
"Patience.. you'll find out soon."
The pair started walking towards the ramps. Tziak in the front, and Shalkis following at a swords-length behind him.

"Very well... You wish to fight, yes? Not exactly my strongest skill, but still...i shall fight, if you will speak with me first.."
Shalkis stayed silent.
"Answer me?"
She prodded Tziak with her sword. Tziak eyed the dark blade and then chuckled.
"A sword in the stomach, hmm?"
"Keep moving."
Tziak rolled his eyes and walked down the ramp onto the crimson sands.

"Good."
"Spill his blood all over the sands!"
"Feast upon his heart!"
The voices were still whispers, but loud enough to be heard clearly. Shalkis could almost smell Tziak's delicious blood, pumping in his veins.. then he turned and spoke.
"Now, shall you speak?"
Before Shalkis could reply, he heard an another voice from behind her.
"It is an honor to be in your presence once again."
Hidden behind her mask, she smiled. Audience. And judging by his words, a Gurubashi. The blessings are numerous today, she thought. And before she realized it, a red haze filled her vision and words escaped her lips:
"This might sting a bit."

...

Tziak was lying on the ground.. frostbitten. As was the other troll. Shalkis would have preferred if he was conscious, but one cannot have everything.
"Now.. get up.", she barked towards Tziak.
"The reason why we're here.. I've been thinking what the warcry of the Empire really meant.."
Tziak slowly opened his eyes, and his flesh was already regenerating rapidly.
"P-pardon...wait till my ears r-regrow...", he smirked and coughed up some blood.
"The Blood.. that corrupts us.", she bellowed and drove her blade through Tziak's hand.
"The Fire.. that consumes us.", she continued yelling. Flames danced on her fingertips and jumped to Tziak, burning away the regenerated flesh.
"The Death.. that sets us free.", she screamed on top of her lungs, drowning out the wailing winds circling around her.
Tziak was trying to whisper something.
"Of course.. you're not getting away that easily..", she spoke and smiled.
"Of course not, Shalkis.", he replied and then whispered..
"But answer me one question....Do you regret that your lips, who even now quiver with jealousity, shall never again grace my skin?"
He started to laugh, but it quickly turned into a cough.
"Now sleep.. and dream of horrid things..", she spoke omniously and pointed the tip of her bloodied sword right at Tziak's face.
"Wait..", he smiled again.
"Will you not answer my questions?"
"I have no regrets. My task in this world is done. This.. is just a bonus.", she replied from behind her mask.
"That was not my question."
Shalkis heard someone walk towards her from behind. She turned, still keeping her sword pointed at Tziak. An another Gurubashi.
"I did not come here for you. Wait your turn.", she quipped and turned towards Tziak.
The other troll spoke: "Me be ´ere to ´elp me Emporah."
Shalkis ignored the troll and carefully cut Tziak's tabard off him with her sword. When the blade nicked Tziak's skin, the wound closed even before it could bleed.
The troll behind her started to chant: "From da earth yah call da Powah..."
Shalkis grabbed the tabard and held it up, marveling at the handiwork. Even in it's burnt and tattered state, the twin snakes still looked majestic.
"This.. is now mine..", she spoke to herself. She then turned her gaze back towards Tziak.
"As for your life.."

Shalkis' sentence was interrupted by a snarl from behind. Before she could turn, she could feel and hear metal grind against bone. Blood gushed out of her back. She whispered a word and she was beyond the axe's reach. The troll wielding it pulled the axe up from the ground and started running towards her. The other two trolls were already hurling lightning towards her, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Tziak, shimmering with frost and an elemental at his side. She had a wicked grin behind her mask, but that was only a facade. Of course he had only been stalling, waiting for more Gurubashi to show up. Each second here would increase the chances of him winning. It would have to end now.

Shalkis muttered a long-forgotten blessing, and she too was protected by both a frozen shield and an elemental. The elemental turned it's featureless face towards one of the shamans while Shalkis was already introducing the berserker to his ruminant side. Bolts of lightning, ice and water criscrossed around the Arena. The first shaman succumbed.. then the other. She looked back at Tziak, and the blood haze filled her vision again.

...

Shalkis stood next to Tziak, looking down on him.
"Now.. where were we?"
"I believe you where going to take my life? Amusing, really.", Tziak grinned.
"All things have an end. You are fortunate to encounter yours so soon. However.. your end will not come today."
"You know, if you let me live, what shall happen..", he shook his head.
"You.. will bring your own downfall. This.. is simply a long overdue reminder.. of your mortality. That even a 'God-Emperor' can bleed."
"Breaking my body serves nothing to remind me of 'mortality' ...you should know, as an 'Aspect' ...the Flesh means nothing", he replied.
"Of course.. so here's something for you to dream about."
"I have long stopped dreaming....but continue.."
Shalkis' sword flared briefly as she thrust it towards Tziak.

...

"Sleep, Emperor of the Gurubashi.. and dream of your fate that you have brought upon yourself!", Shalkis bellowed. Her work was done, for now. The wound on her back was not bleeding anymore, but she could not handle any more Gurubashi. With great effort, she climbed on top of her raptor and rode north from the Arena.

Misguided Alleigances

Sigh.

Shalkis looked at the tabard one more time. The crimson background had faded some time ago, and the edges were frayed. Only the black sword motif remained, as sharp as ever. She carefully straightened the tattered cloth, then folded it. Once, twice, thrice.

They had failed offer any answers, either. Those who had once challenged the dominance of Frostmourne now.. just gave up. To some, the call of the grave proved to be too seducing. Others returned to whatever places they called home. Some found new employers. Whatever they did was now irrelevant. There would be no voyage to the north.

With a thud, the male Draenei set a metallic box on the counter and opened it. Shalkis' eyes lingered for a moment on the stack of cloth in it, each one with different markings. Only the top one with a hellish mouth motif was visible, but Shalkis knew the others as well. A golden scepter, a silver sun, a blue wolf's head, a red drake, poison-green eyes, golden twin spires, a red Naaru motif.. and the twin snakes.

"Too many..", she thought.

Shalkis snapped out of her reverie and set the latest tabard on top of the pile. The Draenei put the lid back on the box and unceremoniously picked it up. The self-devouring snakes reminded her of one other thing she needed to do now. News of the collapse would eventually reach their ears and lure the scavengers in, looking for an easy kill. She glanced on the Draenei, who nodded slightly and vanished into the back room for a moment. A few minutes later he re-emerged, carrying an another box.

The stench of forbidden magic greeted Shalkis when she opened it. She would use their superstition to her advantage. In their eyes, she was the betrayer, the heretic, the corrupt. Fine. Let them come and test their bravery before their strength. The first item she removed was a fiery robe with intricate patterns. Then a set of shoulderguards. Three monstrous mouths, locked in an eternal howl stared back at her. Finally, the most important part.. a wooden mask. The dried blood still lined it's insides. The draenei looked at her with a well-hidden frown on his face. She nodded, and the metallic container was sealed and hurried out of sight.

The robe was gentle to the touch from the inside. Like finest silk, straight from the Spider Queen's chosen. Yet the outside looked like it was molten and would scar from the slightest touch. As soon as she slipped it on, the faint whispers started to circle in her mind. Barely recognizable promises of power, of vengeance, of dominance. For such a small price.. yet too steep to even consider. Still.. detecting and fending off the temptations would be good practice. There was no leeway to let delusions of grandeour fester. Any overestimations would be the death of her. Literally.

Next, she grabbed one of the shoulderguards and attached it to her right shoulder with the leather straps. Then the other. From the corner of her eye, the eyes of the beasts seemed to flare. In her mind's eye, she could see the false prophet writhe and scream in agony. Her mouth sharpened into a grin. The price he would pay for his betrayal would be high indeed. But.. not now. Patience. Discipline. These would be her allies in the coming months. Not the rage that was offered to her.

Finally.. the mask. As soon as she lowered it to her face, all seemed so clear. Short-sighted fools. Heretics. So many times she had offered the ingrates the truth. And an equal number of times it had been rejected. Their downfall would be of their own doing. All she needed to do was to watch.. and judge. With their dying breath, they would all admit that they were wrong. But then again, she had been wrong so many times before. So many misguided alleigances. So much trust for those who never deserved it in the first place.

But maybe there would be some who would be worthy. Those who also see the mistakes of the past and follies of the future. It would be so good to talk to someone who would understand. It has been too long since the last time. As she saw it, there was now two alternatives before her. She could stay in the shadows, in the sidelines, to catalogue all the mistakes of the world. It would serve as a warning for the future generations, should there be any. Or.. Perhaps..

Oh yes..

With a smile hidden beneath the mask, Shalkis climbed on her wyvern's back and guided it towards the sky.

"Hacked"

I had this interesting conversation today:

[10:37:31] [Rachiel] whispers: Greetings Brave soul i was thnking of how rich you looked and then i was wondering if you could give a poor little girl some money for some weapons after a visit from hackers it will be very please??
[10:40:04] To [Rachiel]: Unequipping your gear does not make you a victim of a hacker.
[10:40:57] [Rachiel] whispers: i know thats why i havent taken of my gear off
[10:41:19] To [Rachiel]: When did this "hacking" take place?
[10:41:28] [Rachiel] whispers: a week ago
[10:41:46] To [Rachiel]: Is that so? According to the Armory, you still had your gear yesterday.

Of course, she didn't give up that easily..

[10:42:20] [Rachiel] whispers: cant be me another maybe what armory did i have?
[10:42:35] To [Rachiel]: Well, there is just one Rachiel on Defias Brotherhood.
[10:43:21] [Rachiel] whispers: well it could be another blood elf with near the same name
[10:43:46] To [Rachiel]: An another blood elf with the exact same name and in the same guild?
[10:44:11] [Rachiel] whispers: i didnt say so with nearly the same name
[10:45:20] [Rachiel] whispers: but if you say i had my armory yesterday then what armory did i have?
[10:47:12] To [Rachiel]: For example, your weapons were [Dazzling Longsword] and [Sword of Omen]
[10:47:50] [Rachiel] whispers: really because i used dagger
[10:48:59] To [Rachiel]: Oh really?
[10:49:08] [Rachiel] whispers: yes really
[10:51:49] To [Rachiel]: Let's assume for a moment that I'm looking at the wrong Armory profile.. How supposedly this hacker with a similar name also belongs to the same guild as you?
[10:53:13] [Rachiel] whispers: nope but listen if you dont wanna give anything just say no what is the problem?
[10:53:35] To [Rachiel]: I'm saying that you are the scammer and no hacking took place.
[10:54:36] [Rachiel] whispers: well why does i then walk around with 6 copper and a dress worth 1 copper and dont have any weapons?
[10:57:51] To [Rachiel]: First of all, that dress is crafted and costs more than 1 copper. Secondly, you know I can't confirm how much money do you have, nor I can confirm what you have in your bags or bank. But I can confirm that you still had gear yesterday, a week after
[10:57:56] To [Rachiel]: the supposed hacking.
[10:58:48] [Rachiel] whispers: okay okay i dont have got a visit from hackers but i maybe soon get because i have a payoff to someone i know and if i dont pay him unless friday he will hack my acount (this dress comes from the valentine event last month. =(
[11:00:17] To [Rachiel]: ..or you could just report him to Blizzard and they'll probably be more than happy to return your gear if this supposed hacker does succeed.
[11:00:25] To [Rachiel]: At least they would be able to bust him for harassment.
[11:01:09] [Rachiel] whispers: i know but i have a problem i dont know his character name
[11:01:28] To [Rachiel]: If you don't know his character's name, how can you pay him?
[11:02:24] [Rachiel] whispers: he will find me in school and then tell me that was the deal he dont wanna get his name out before i can pay him
[11:03:11] To [Rachiel]: Then why don't you report him to the school authorities for harassment?

Of course, there could be a real bully cleaning out their classmates' accounts, but it would be easier to just intimidate them to give out their virtual possessions than to make them co-conspirators.

Frankly, I'm doubtful that she'll learn. So just in case she tries this same angle again, I'm posting this as a warning.

High King Maulgar

High King Maulgar,
originally uploaded by Shalkis.

After an evening in Gruul's lair, High King Maulgar finally succumbed to the Great Dark.

Strangers in the Capital

The Magisters' lessons had done wonders to Alanduin's health. Although he was never officially tutored in the art of magic, drawing power from his enemies seemed almost too simple. All it took was a bit of concentration. But he never would have thought of it himself, it took a Magister to figure it out for him. In his mind, it was simply making the most of prey. He had already grown accustomed to using the entrails of beasts in various ways, from sinews used as bowstrings, certain organs as food, the skin turned into furs and leather clothing. Drawing power was simply making good use of the beasts' spiritual energy as well. His skin had started to regain a healthy color, and strength once again filled his limbs. Once again, he could hold his head high in the capital. People greeted him again.

Ah, the capital. With newfound vigor in him, Alanduin could once again appreciate the majestic craftsmanship. It was amazing how quickly Silvermoon had recovered from the devastation. The Magisters had explained how the Prince had found new sources of power, and ways to store and use it. And the knowledge was indeed in much use. The new green crystals adorned many of the spires, including the royal Sunfury Spire. The rebuilt capital looked better than ever.

The rebuilding was not the only news that had contributed to Alanduin's good mood. At first, it was isolated reports that not all undead were either mindless or ravenous. He had travelled south to investigate these rumors. Not only were the rumors indeed true, but these.. Forsaken were actually helping in the eradication of the Scourge. It had taken a few days for Alanduin to gather enough courage to actually talk to one, but the tales he had heard were incredible. From what they told, the cursed human prince had actually attacked his own kingdom before marching into Quel'thalas. He had ended King Terenas' reign with his own hands. Not only that, the undead claimed that they were being led by the Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner, who had organized a resistance after she was slain and reanimated at the battle of the Sunwell. A ranger that had given more than her life in the defense of the High Home? It sounded a bit too good, but the ambassadors sent to Lordaeron did confirm it. Quel'thalas had allies. Unfortunately, so did the Forsaken.

Sometimes it's not a good idea to share. Vile orcs, trolls and bullmen from beyond the sea had travelled to the High Home. All elves, including Alanduin were decreed to extend their hospitality to these beasts as well. Years, even centuries of war and now we're just supposed to let them walk in our beloved city? But it was the word of the Regent, and it could not be questioned. But perhaps he could be convinced to reconsider. Since ages past the Rangers had always been the first to spot threats to the High Home. Now that the Blood Knights had assumed responsibility for day-to-day defense of the land, the Rangers could again assume their role as the eyes and ears of the elven nation. If he could just gather some evidence of the mongrels' treachery, the Regent would see the wisdom in rescinding his order.

The first few investigations were fruitless. Appearing friendly in the dubious company of the beasts was becoming his second nature, but he could maintain the facade for only a few minutes at a time. The savagery of the mongrels was apparent, but a simple breach of public peace was not enough to kick them out. Not all of them, anyway. It had to be something more.. tangible. He needed to catch them in the act.

A few weeks later Alanduin received his first solid lead. The weather controller had malfunctioned. It was officially blamed on the savage night elves caught sneaking around, but that explanation seemed too simple for him. It would take some time for the controller to be repaired, so Alanduin walked the empty streets of Silvermoon in the rain, thinking on how he could connect the mongrels to sabotage. Deep within his thoughts, he failed to notice an armored raptor approaching quickly.

"Hey! Are you blind?", he snapped as the raptor almost ran him over.

The rider, dressed in blue from head to toe, did not respond. Two blue ears, adorned with earrings peeked from the edges of the cowl. Obviously a troll.

"I am talking to you, troll!"

The blueish raptor snarled at him, but the rider did not move.

"Are those shriveled ears just for show?", Alanduin taunted while walking around the raptor to get a good look on the mongrel. The raptor tried to grab his arm between the powerful jaws, but he was safely out of reach.

The rider was also wearing a veil in addition to the cowl, and the wet clothes were pressing on his.. her body. The female troll slowly extended her right hand horizontally to her side, and he could hear the female whisper a few unrecognizable words. Water dripping from the hand slowed, and then froze. More rain kept falling and freezing along the rapidly-forming icicle hanging from her hand. A witch, and a powerful one at that. The icicle was already almost as tall as Alanduin, and the troll seemed to have no problems holding her arm straight. Her red eyes, the only visible part of her, gazed straight through him. Leaving the bow at the inn seemed like a really bad idea now.

The witch opened her fist, letting the icicle shatter on the cobblestones. By the time Alanduin regained his composure, she was already long gone. The evidence of the threat was already melting away. He looked around, but he didn't see anyone who would be useful as a witness. If only he knew where the witch was going..

"Damn trolls", he muttered as he headed back to the inn.