10-10-2010, 08:58 PM
- Undercity, The Royal Quarter
The Banshee Queen stood in the shadows of her chamber, as she did for many hours of what could hardly be called days. Her eyes pierced the darkness as two molten blades, constantly projecting a tale of woe to those who would approach.
Today, that individual would be Corey Giles. The Forsaken had been something of a mousy librarian, in life. In death, he made a serviceable runner between the capital of the Forsaken empire and its outlying settlements. The Sepulcher, Tarren Mill, the Bulwark.
"The Bulwark!" The undead man panted as he came into the heart of the city, and was immediately accosted by elite Deathguards. "Lady Sylvanas, the Bulwark!"
The dark ranger slowly turned her blood-tinted gaze to him. "Release him." Since her transformation at the hands of the traitor-prince, her voice echoed in an unsettling, otherworldly tone. The guards let Corey down, and allowed him further entrance, albeit under their watchful, yellow eyes.
"Speak, Giles. What has happened."
"The Scarlets, my lady! The thrice-damned crusaders have attacked the Bulwark!"
Sylvanas narrowed her eyes into angry crimson slivers. "What?"
"Yes," Corey said, nodding woefully. "Our Tauren and Sin'Dorei allies were overwhelmed. A small group of the zealots passed through to the Plaguelands while our forces and the Dawn's were inundated with fire and dogs."
"Useless pacifists," Sylvanas growled, barely audible despite the significant echo in the chamber. She balled one cold hand into a fist. "I want those humans stopped, messenger. And I want the Bulwark reinforced."
"Reinforced...?"
"Never again will those bearing the symbol of our oppressor pass through to safety," she stated, looking to another banshee floating to her side. The tormented soul nodded, and drifted to the side to relay the message. "As for the crusaders. Place posters throughout the city, and in Orgrimmar, and Silvermoon."
She looked about the gathered representatives in the room. "I want them to feel the heated breath of the Horde upon the backs of their necks. I want them to feel true fear."
"Yes, my lady."
"And when they are put down, as the dogs they are, they will serve us." A cruel smile split her lips, darkened not by oils or paint, but by the chill of death.
"Yes, my lady."
* * *
- Stormwind City, Cathedral District
Arineme Serisfal sat at the desk in the Argent Dawn building, leafing through a pile of books and sheafs of paper. She was always diligent in terms of taking notes, but the woman's organizational skills left something to be desired.
She was in the middle of scribbling down a note on Stormwind's rubbish removal schedule, when a knock came on the heavy wooden door. Looking up, she closed the book and dragged her sword and shield off of the floor. The heavily-armored paladin crept toward the front of the room.
Arineme gripped the door's handle, and suddenly ripped it open, sword pointing out at the man on the other side of the entrance.
"... Miss Serisfal?" The brown-haired soldier asked, an eyebrow raised. He wore gray chainmail, and an Argent Dawn tabard. The woman sighed, and dropped the tip of her weapon to the floorboards.
"Yes, soldier, what can I do for you?"
"A letter for you, from Light's Hope." He stiffly held the envelope into the room, not daring to step inside. Arineme ripped it from his gauntlet, and wasted no time in unfolding the rough parchment, yellowed before its time by the very nature of the Plaguelands.
Her blue eyes scan the message, instantly absorbing everything its words had to offer. Toward the end, those sky-colored orbs widened, and the paper fluttered to the floor.
"Miss Serisfal? Is everything alright?"
"The Trade District," she whispered. "Quickly."
"But why?"
Arineme sheathed her sword, and latched her shield onto her back. "Because there are good men and women rushing to their deaths, and the Alliance needs warriors, not corpses."
The Argent knight nodded, seeming to understand, and watched as she hurried out the door and into the streets. Upon reaching the corner of the orphanage, she broke into a run, her expression showing more than a hint of worried desperation.
"Scibryn... Hang on. Please..."
* * *
- Acherus, The Ebon Hold
"Highlord," came the cold, echoing voice of a huge, muscle-bound Death Knight. A pair of broken horns jabbed into the air at the sides of his helm. "I have news, from the beach-head at New Avalon."
Darion Mograine reacted as he usually did- An irritated sigh sent a puff of cold air out from under his intimidating, horned helm.
"The Bloodbreaker, sir. It's been captured."
"Captured."
"By... Scarlet Crusaders, sir."
The Highlord glared ahead, his eyes seething with a constant, icy blue smoke.
"Find them," he stated, leaving no room for argument. "I will not allow this insult to stand."
"Yes, my lord."
The Ashbringer's son looked out to the darkened skies beyond the floating citadel as the hooves of his soldier clattered away against the frigid stone floor.
"And I will honor Renault's grave with a personal visit," he growled.
***
[OOC: For those looking to become involved with the Scarlet Event-Chain, this is your chance. If you'd be interested in having your group come in contact with the players in the chain, feel free to send me a PM, and keep your eyes on the Exodus thread, also in this forum.
Alliance players would become aware of the events through Arineme and the Argent Dawn, who seek to bring the Crusaders into the fold of Stormwind, given the chance. Meanwhile, Lady Sylvanas has put up posters in the major Horde cities to rile up nationalistic fervor against the Scarlets. Said posters hint at a reward for their deaths, though it is not explicitly described.
Happy hunting.]