Bubonic Bay

[Spark]

Smoke bellowed out of the house as the broken door slowly creaked open, in the doorway stood a single silhouette, hunched and gangly. Clad only in a dark flowing robe and a black hood, the face of the figure was hidden. It steps forward into the dim twilight, the last rays of the sun flickering around it's feet as the night crept in. Behind it, nine other figures slowly followed, all with the same hunch and clothing. All silent, they stared out at the Bay. The destruction. The mayhem.

"Brothers. It is time."

They tred carefully out of the smoke revealing their true figures, bones and skin. Ten forsaken stand with their backs to the sun as it flees below the hills. Darkness once again engulfed them...

"Slaughter them my brothers. This town must fall."


...With that they were gone...And twilight gives way to the blackness of the night. And complete desolation shall follow.

[ThePharaoh]

A crowd of Sin'dorei stand in the Bazaar in the evening, a rally had been held. Others gathered at the commotion curious to what kept the initial crowd's attention. Two elves stand beside him, one translating in orcish for the non-elven members of the crowd. The female appearing to be on guard. A elf donned in a custom mage-weave tuxedo steps out from between the two. "E-Excuse me. If I could have your attention.." The elf speaks to stop break up the murmuring crowd.

"My name is Zariel Amaru Novalight, Nephew of the Nova, Naveria Novalight. I brought you here to speak on a dire situation south of this grand city. A filthy goblin town in Stranglethorn has been stricken with a violent plague.." The members of the crowd look to each other mumbling before looking back to Zariel, others eyes never leave him. "There is no definite culprit, just definite victims. Innocents are getting killed and the wounded are becoming infected. I know what most are you thinking. The filthy creatures deserve this for their foul way of life. They had it coming if they support gold over the validity of our war, of our differences." Members of the crowd begin nodding, others just listen. "I am not here to tell you if you are right or wrong, why or why not. We have to make sure this gets quarantined before it spreads over all of the Eastern Kingdoms. If the disease gets to Silvermoon our most powerful will become our most dangerous. I know we don't have many brothers and sisters to spare but I am going to fight for the life we have survived long enough to keep, for our dying brothers and sisters of the Sin'dorei and of the Horde. We shouldn't let this get out of hand because of our arrogance and disconcern. -We- know what a plague can do, how dangerous it can be. I will -not- stand idly by as it happens a second time...Not while I am stronger this time. So I ask you, not order you...to Join me my brothers and sisters in the fight to the south. Help us contain this nightmare and eventually seal it away into our dreams."

Elves from the crowd begin a hushed murmur amongst themselves, others speaking words of disbelief with some speaking words of worry. A few elves begin clapping, as some leave the crowd. "I will help." A voice calls out, others echo it in different tones. Zariel watches nodding to the voices. "Thank you...Thank you." He repeats to those willing to help. "Please...Spread the word."

[GeneralDefyre]

Vitaly is within Duskwood, venturing towards Deadwind Pass.
A lone soldier, clad in a dark-as-night suit of armor, blocks Vitaly's path North.Halt! Who goes there?
That is none of your business, good sir, now let me pass or your throat will be on the floor.
You...You dare threaten me? Do you even know who I am?!
Vitaly pulls back his cloak, revealing his blades.Touch me, and you perish...Now let me pass damn you!
The man grunts, steps to the side, and allows Vitaly to pass unmolested. After several yards, however, Vitaly notcies a growing eeriness about him.
The plague! The plague is here! Run for your lives!The scream fades away, as Vitaly watches a Gnome running towards the Swamp of Sorrows. He appears to be slightly green and purple.
To the nearest civilian Um...Excuse me, but what was he talking about?
The Gnome? Oh apparently Booty Bay has been quarantined due to some sort of bomb being used there...Everyone coming from there is infected with some sort of disease, and the only cure is...well...death.
Vitaly, now aware of the plague in Booty Bay, ventures on to his destination, hoping the man who wrote him the letter is still alive...

[orangeapple]

A rotten board cracked under the pressure of a blood-stained sabaton. The boot's owner, a pale-skinned elf looked, around the decrepit city. She had become almost disappointed by the effects of the so called plague. She had seen true plagues first hand. She had participated in those glorious plagues years before. Though now her will was no longer the play thing of a soulless king, she could never understand the nonsensical rules that governed the lives of those around her.

The death-knight looked up from the decaying wood beneath her feet began to peer through the smoke and fires towards a sickened bruiser, left to die by his comrades. Small fires continued to crackle, remnants of the massive infernos that had taken parts of the city. A childish cry could be heard in the distance as the armored maiden approached the goblin. As she drew nearer she sensed the pools of blood gushing from a wound in the guards green-skinned chest.

Suddenly the bruiser came to life, if one could call the remnants of his forsaken existence life, as he struggled to reach his weapon. He focused his eyes on the undead before him. He had to kill it. He had to bash its skull in and make sure it would never even think about coming near him. He was strong and no silly little plague, no tiny scratch on his chest, and definitely no long dead elf in a filthy suit of armor would bring him down.

Telera looked down at the wounded goblin crawling across the planks. He seemed to cling to his flawed perception of reality despite the circumstances which currently surrounded him. She heard the words of Lady Deathwhisper echoing in her mind. He must be in great pain writhing there amongst the fleas and rats. His pain however could not have come from his surroundings, but it must stem from the fact that he exists in such a flawed pathetic state. The death-knight slowly drew her glowing runeblade from her back and prepared to rid the poor creature from the curse of flesh.

Telera paused for a moment, pondering the plague that had taken hold of the beast before her. The sickness that had taken hold of him was so plague, it was in fact a cure. While the attempted cure was nothing compared to the work of her former master it still held merit. The death-knight sheathed her blade as she looked down at the goblin crawling away from her feet. The plague needed to be nurtured. The plague would free these small worthless creatures from their unending curse. Once again she found herself in envy of her unholy brethren, for now without their aid it was her responsibility to spread the bile and pestilence of freedom.