Bubonic Bay

[Rosencrat]

Spoiler:

This is intended as a depository of sorts for IC information on the goings on surrounding the Jungle Fever event. You can make your posts IC or OOC. Posts within must be related to the topic. Please keep your OOC comments to a minimum and try to attach them to an informative post.

In Nagrand...

This evening a bloody sack was left on the doorstep of the Lost Minded's tower. Within the burlap sack, chilling quietly in a bed of ice, was the head of a dwarf. The dwarf was identified as one Lochli, a long-time member of The Lost Minded.

The dwarf's head was contorted in agony. The head was severed cleanly by a fine blade. It seemed to have been severed recently.

Pinned to the door, just above where the burlap sack was resting, was a note. It was written in a Night Elf's handwriting and, to be brief, detailed a series of crimes the dwarf was executed for. At the end was a statement saying that the group could retrieve the rest of the body in Booty Bay. Beneath it all, in a steady hand, was signed the name Fala'thorei.

On the back of the paper was a faded grocery list for the “Council of Blades Meet And Greet Extravaganza.”

+-------------------------------------------------------------------------+

Meanwhile, in Duskwood...

A recent Night Watchmen report says that a scuffle was heard and lights were observed in Raven Hill. After suitably skulking and cowering, an unlucky scout was sent to investigate the occurence. In an abandoned building a dwarf's corpse was found, badly mutilated and covered in frost burns. The corpse was missing a head as well as a leg.

A few feet away from the corpse was found an empty parcel of guild and a half-burnt letter. The letter was from a woman by the name of Reigen and gave explicit details to the deceased, stating for them to meet a doctor in Raven Hill and to get a ‘plague'. The letter then details how the plague is to be released in Booty Bay the next day.

The mentioned plague and payment were not found on the body. It is believed that the dwarf was double-crossed.

Due to the Night Watch being over-stretched and Booty Bay out of its jurisdiction, the letter and body were sent to a local group of law-keepers headed by Demon Hunters for further investigation.

[Reigen]

An enraged scream echos throughout the tower, dying down into a grieving sob.

Reigen stood over the head, her body trembling in anger, and her eyes closed. A tear or two manage to make it out from where her real eye rests, the other staring blankly at the head, unable to express the proper emotions in which the tiny elf was feeling. The rest of the inhabitants stood around her, staying silent as their leader collected herself. After a few long moments, she jerked her finger to the note.

"Bring it to me." Her voice was full of grief.

Once it was brought to her, she opened her other eye to stare down at it. As she read, her expression twisted away from sorrow to that of anger. Her claws pierced the paper while the other just gripped the paper tightly, causing it to crumple up around the edges. At last, she crumpled the paper up into her fist, her body now stilling as she collected her thoughts.

"They will pay..."

She strode away from the head, leaving another to pick it up. She yanked the door open and make her way inside, her voice raising as to alert the others who may be inside.

"They will -bleed-."

If they chose to follow her or not, it wouldn't matter. They could have heard her from the bottom anyway.

"Their families will suffer for this as we suffer now!"

Once at the top, she would turn to face those who may have followed her. She stood as tall as such a small elf could, hard due to how everyone else towered over her. Such a fact did not stop her from speaking like the higher up she was.

"This..." She hisses out the name, "Council of Blades! They dare to harm one of the family. They dare to tread on us when we've done nothing to them! What have we done to deserve such a thing, what has Lochli, a paladin, done to deserve such an end? He was -good-, he followed the laws. Besides Krilari, he was the most devote to goodness as one could get!"

She takes a moment to breathe, then looks around. At last, her raised voice dies down.

"See, my lost? This is the price of being different. This is the price of following our own path rather than the one that our ancestors laid out before us. We tread the unknown, we take the path less traveled and look at what happens to us! What will we do, live in fear, or strike back?"

She holds the note out in order for them to see.

"We strike. We will do to them what they have done to us. They taunt us, not even brave enough to send one of their own to deliver this. Cowards! Show them no mercy, show them no pity. The same was not done to him...they took his head and use his body as -bait-."

She points a clawed finger at Kielenn. "You! Go to the bay. I want the area scouted, I want you to listen in for anything involving these cowards." She turns to the rest. "We will retrieve the rest of his body. Perhaps, with a little luck, he can be returned to us. Do not go alone, my lost, I fear it may be a trap. Thus, we will go as a force. Now prepare!"

She turned to look out a window into the chaotic land before her. listning to the sounds of weapons being sharpened, armor clanking and aimless chatter. Her eyes drift down to the paper, to the signed name, then to the back. She perks her brow at the list.

"What the fel is a zucchini?"


((OOC: This is a reaction post to the finding of the head at the tower. TLM will be in the bay starting tonight/tomorrow and though the duration of the event. A post will also be made in our forums directing to this one. Poor dryriver, he was a good sober dwarf. We shall miss him so. <3))

[Xigo]

Sindri peers at the letter, quietly swallowing a zucchini she had been eating for some time.

"... Who is this 'Reigen' woman?"

[Scout]

William Harding strode through Booty Bay, a black bag clasped shut by a silver lock in each hand. The Salty Sailor tavern lay ahead, dim in the starlight of the evening. Harding had been traveling for the past week from his time in Westfall, practicing his medicine for the sick, the weak, and those who simply could not afford it. He beamed; it had been some time since his last visit to Booty Bay, but he could hardly wait, for he knew that there were many opportunities in Booty Bay.

There were also many people in need of his help, but there would be far more than he could ever imagine.

Making his way into the tavern, the doctor adjusted his monocle, and walked to the counter, where Nixxrax Fillamug tended to orders. Harding was dressed in a black suit, not ideal for travel, but he preferred to be distinguished, and he had only worn it for the day. “Nixxrax, perhaps I might be able to obtain a room here, again.”

The goblin shot him a cursory glance. “Ah, you, the whazzisface doctor. Yeah, yeah. Take that room you had before. Payment up front.”

Harding gave the goblin some silver coins, forcing a wan smile. “Ah, yes, yes. It's always a pleasure doing business with you, Nixxrax.” He made his way up to his room, unlocked it, and set the bags down on a dresser with a relieved sigh. It was good to be here again.

--

Elsewhere.

"We must put work into studying this. Immediately."

"Of course."

[Jeff]

For days now the smell of the salty sea clogged young Tuscoge's nostrils. Twas upon his mighty vessal he did put trust, and the port that lied not but an hour ahead seemed like such an intimidating place. He'd heard not of this port save the pirates and scallywags alike flock in masses to this part of the world. Nervous he during this flight, so much so that despite being upon the waves for weeks, he only now grew sick. This Tauren's natural stoic-nature, however, prevented him from showing it to anyone but himself. When he was alone that day, the Tauren turned abaft, he watched the ship cut its way through the salty waves of the great sea, and his keen gray eyes caught sight of a dark spec in the distance.

"All ye swabs, look aft! Land ho!" This haggard voice deepened from his chronic smoking called upon the ship's nest. Having been spared the cat o' nine tails upon this crowded ship by luck, Tuscoge rejoiced to finally be rid of the company aboard the filth stained decks of SSY Gilnean Wench.

Like its name, the crew was equally as crude. They were a swarthy sort both literally and metaphorically due to their extended time in the sun. Many of them have disregarded hygene for months. This crew would gamble at nights when their duty was being covered by the shift of shiphands, and their grog they did drink until they colored the blue sea with their guts. Truly this sort of people wouldn't be one a tribal shaman from Kalimdor could get along with, and like-wise they to him. Yet the fat armored goblins aboard the ship, as bribed as they were to look away from some of the shenanigans, held loyalty to their dreams of huge profit in Booty Bay. They are what kept the hardly organized rabble in line during the whole thing.

Tuscoge found himself liking these guards the most, which was hard for him, since normally goblins fill his gut with disgust. The trip, equal to the hurdle of hell, was now behind him. His mind lifted from prejudices cast upon the drunken crowd upon the task at hand. In that harbor some number of miles ahead was his cousin, Kehyo. Contact between he and the tribe seemed to have stopped, and it was loyal Tuscoge's task to find out why. He hoped this would be a short thing, and he would simply be off again in a week, but something in the spirits made him shiver. They were too calm.

[aroes]

Aroes sits in the library located on a far wall of his home, burning the midnight oil once again. The room is lit by the pale glow of a scrying orb. "What are you planning Mathias?" A grey colored mist swirls inside the orb. "This i getting too dangerous, and you have outlived your usefulness..."

[c0rzilla]

Violet eyes peer out onto the bay from the entrance of the town. The young woman's fingertips are stained from recent, hasty, messy letter writing.

...Aroes. I hope you're not in too deep.

Please. Don't be.

Warnings are sent out. All I can do is wait.

...

I hate waiting.

[Anski]

"Hey."

There was a knock on the doorframe and Navren opened his ruined eyes. There was no blindfold over them, and they turned, threaded and glowing green to whoever was speaking. He was laying prostrate on the bed of the inn in Duskwood, and the man who was standing there didn't seem to cower from him like everyone else. He must have seen worse. Regardless, Navren sat up, looking around. He swept the bandanna he had worn for thousands of years and wrapped it over his eyes, breathing out the cold air from his nose of being rushed awake. The hunter slid his legs off the bed and stood up, fully dressed regardless. He stood, ears pressing away from the ceiling. Navren stretched as the man waited, knowing better than to rush a demon hunter out of the rare times that they get sleep. In fact, it was the first time he had slept in five days. Navren shook his head, scratching his moustachops murkily and finally looked over at the man.

"You're gonna wanna take a look at what's going on in Raven Hill."

The man left with that, and Navren grabbed his warglaives, notched with ages of war, yet sharp enough to carve bone without fracture. He tied them to the rope strap across his back and crouched under the doorway, walking out. Time had changed him, clearly. His skin was breaking, cracking and glowing. His teeth were sharpened and he could feel spines protruding from his upper arm. He shook his head and walked out of the inn without looking at all the people watching him in nigh horror. Out into the grasp of the rain, rolling off of the dark canopy to the hallowed grounds below. Navren took off through the woods, at top speed. Exiled for his cause and forgotten from his people, he still knew how to run through a forest. It wasn't long before he leapt and landed on one of the roofs in Raven Hill, watching carefully. There were Night Watchmen all around, talking and closing off the scene. It was one of the few times they could keep control of the ruined town. A good many of them looked when he landed with a pound into the ground below, standing up to his full height, overshadowing everyone there. He looked at the Captain, who just pointed to the largest house. The hunter nodded and moved in silence.

Everything was silent these days. There were no talks of life and laughter, it had all shifted to murder and melancholic topics. Rain poured down upon them as Navren moved inside, the whole house dripping here and there. The lowest floor was covered in a few inches of water. Navren looked to someone else, who pointed to the back room. He moved without speaking again, crouching beneath the door frame and walking down the stairs. Here in the basement stood the most Watchmen officials, who were all surrounding something. They looked and all backed away in silence, and Navren stepped forward. In the light of lots of candles lay a corpse. Covered in frostburn, it was a dwarf who had been cleanly decapitated. Blood had coagulated, sticking it to the floor. It made a sickly wet sound as Navren pulled the glue like blood from it and rolled it over. No backstabbing, it was all a mage job until his head was cut off. The leg, however, seemed odd to remove. Must have been a mid battle scuffle. Navren lifted the corpse up. It was heavy with weight, must have been here for a while. The hunter placed it back down as one of the Watchmen nervously approached, holding out a letter. Navren took it from him and read it over. Parts of it were burnt, but the message was clear. Someone had killed this dwarf for whatever he was carrying, which was this.

"A plague." He said, looking up. All of them nodded.

He read it again, and the culprit was clear. It was that wretched black haired Sin'dorei who hid behind her compatriots. The death of the dwarf was no matter, a plague upon a city was a travesty. Navren stood, gripping the letter. Something had to be done, and something had to be done soon. He looked the letter over carefully, as traces amount of fel revealed themselves. His grip tightened on the paper and he rolled it up, placing it in his belt satchel. He knelt back down, opening the dwarfs' shirt and extending his finger. Upon it, he burnt the universal symbol for the trinity, three circles and a triangle. Whoever came to the crime scene to see if it had been changed would know. The hunter stood once more and turned around, moving up the stairs in silence. He smashed out a window on the side and leapt out, immediately taking off in the rain. His mind was alight with possibilities, but whoever was there had to suffer the blade of the trinity.

The ten thousand days were not over just yet...

[Aphetoros]

Astus walked into the room, through the smoke. "Hello." He looked upon the group, fighting some giant robot. There was some cursing at his arrival, but he didn't care. He inspected the ground for whichever body was in best condition. He grinned, turning around as his ghouls would lag behind him to grab the corpse of an ogre and drag it along the Bay with him...

[Beltharean]

Borislav's Plague Haiku

The Brewmaster sits...

...Handing out his alcohol...

...In the Bay's safe zone.

[ruwendje44]

As soon as Mistal would get back to his trusted hideout he placed himself behind his desk. He looked at the small bullet hole in his right arm and smirked.

"That foul Demon hunter..." He clenched his hands together and nodded slowly. Now it is time to show the mortals of this horrible planet, what we are capable of."

He snapped his fingers and a scroll of parchment, and a vial of ink moved closer to Mistal. He reched for a quill and began to write on the parchment grinning wickedly as he did so.

[Etmosril]

Walking on foot through the jungle came as an unpleasant reminder to Sanya. No matter how she tried to forget or ignore everything that had happened to her in Stranglethorn Vale, it was impossible. The scenery was always the same: full of sunlit haze, dripping water, and the calls of monkeys and birds. Defying time and season. The Bay proper was much the same: no defining feature to mark the days, weeks, and months.
It almost made the disease she'd heard of from the Grom'gol zeppelin operator seem preferable.

Her travels south with Luelin were quiet. It was too far from the cape's point for them to see any other people. It was only when they came to a clearing in the jungle canopy that they could see to the discolored sky beyond, and notice thin plumes of smoke on the horizon. That was the beginning of the riots. As soon as they encountered the first confused mass of people trying to fight, flee - or both -, they went south off the road and into the forest undergrowth.

Sounds echoed out from the forests around them as they climbed the mountains encircling Booty Bay. Metal clanging. Screaming. People shouting names over the noise - searching for others they'd lost in the chaos. Faint sobbing. The crackling of fires being lit. Once they reached the top of the mountains it became quieter, but there was no blocking out the impact of what they'd already heard.

Soon, she regretted ever wishing the Bay was different.

..I don't know if Luelin will be safe with me. She's not immune to anything, and I'm not sure if she can sustain regular cleansings to keep whatever-it-is from harming her. I'd better keep a close watch. Have to make something to protect against it. I -think- it's spread by air - look at the sky. It's odd - and direct transmission. If it was water - something contaminating off the coast? - then other places would be having problems too. I need to find out if they are. And everyone would be getting sick from drinking it. Wouldn't they?

It makes no sense. Is it because people have more immunity to some diseases than others, or is it because the disease itself is worse? I wonder if a lot of them could combine, and make a different one. Or.. maybe it's just the natural progression of everything here. Something which would happen because of all those people. Every race and location has their own diseases of concern - but what happens when the sicknesses one race is used to is given to another? They'd have no experience with them.

If all those people can live in the same climate, have the same physical requirements, and even find one another attractive and cross-breed, then it stands to reason that they'd have similar systems. That would be how diseases can hop from one race to the next, right?

That doesn't help me here. I need something to protect her with. I won't let her be harmed because I was stupid enough to want to visit.

..I don't know what causes disease resistance, but I know that some people are more resistant than others. Trolls don't get sick easily. Paladins are immune to a lot of things. It's similar to the way people's bodies respond to disease already, isn't it? If that's true, then there has to be some physical difference between those types of people. The ones who get sick, and the ones who stay well.

There are a lot of possibilities. I have all the time in the world.

..But Luelin and the others don't..

[ThePharaoh]

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HN7JDUWGhUk[/youtube]

"MY LEG! HELP!" A shrill voice calls to the air, "HELP ME PLEASE!!!" Another from the other side of the bay calls out. Voices of agony and horror penetrate through the sounds of burning buildings, and radio calls from the tavern as denizens of Booty Bay panic and run for their lives. The docks littered with bodies of fallen warriors, victims and infected. Sadistic screams of the infected are heard as the riots in the street continue, the crystal water of the bay drifts into the bay indifferently as if nothing has changed. Forty-Eight hours into the nightmare of Stranglethorn Vale, and there appears to be no hope in immediate sight. Others, join the fight for the blood lust, and the promotion of chaos. Gnomes scurry about taking samples, looking for cures and to quench their scientific thirst.

The young elf watched the chaos below atop the Zeppelin. "This is horrible..." he adds. They all watch silently. "I know she wouldn't do something like this...And she wouldn't set up one of her family. She'd die for them. Which she may do now." He says as the Zeppelin hovers above the port town consumed by flames and chaos. Zariel wasn't supposed to go to the bay, he only went there to deliver a potion to Reigen. There he was attacked but crazed Sin'dorei, and nearly infected himself a few times. He made it to the inn, which is a frantic hold for the non-infected, and those who are trying to come up with a cure. It is crowded, and a few infected have slipped inside. Or turned...inside. It was like a bad dream, the infected didn't seem to register to the pain, they just kept coming with a twisted look on their face, one of hatred so cold..so evil.

"Zariel..."

The elf looks to the Demon Hunter, "Yes?" The hunter extends his arm and points, "There is your father right there..." Nervous, Zariel quickly turned around. "What?! Where?!" Zariel asked, as his father specifically told him to not come here. "There" Fala'thorei repeats once more.

Spoiler:

[flammos200]

The noise wasn't it. The despair wasn't it. The plague itself wasn't it. Nor was it the smell, the gas, nor the clangs of metal ramming against metal. No, something else troubled Luelin as she gazed into the campfire on the mountaintop. It makes no sense... Instead of working together, these people are using the disease as an excuse to kill eachother. At times, I think that they deserve the plague set upon them, but...

The Priestess sighed to the cracking of wood in the fire. Even in such a situation, I'd rather not wish ill-will upon them. Maybe there is some worthwile cause lost in the turmoil. Maybe... In any case, this disease has to be cured. And quickly. She glanced off to the side. Her ears perked, catching the distant sound of a twig snapping. Her mind wandered towards it. Sanya? Are you back? She wondered to herself, though the four minds approaching were unfamiliar... And distinctly malicious in intent. Thoughts surged rapidly through Luelin's mind and she smirked, turning for the source of the sound, which kept closing in on her. Looters. Ah, well... Only one way to deal with them.

"Ey, elf. 'Ow about ya give us all ya got, an' we let'cha leave wit'cha life?" asked a Human that stepped out of the undergrowth, grinning like a cheshire cat. Three others were alongside him, one having a cut on his arm that looked infected. They wore no armor, and had only basic weapons. Sickles, a shortsword and a couple of daggers.

"Give you all I've got, hmm?" Luelin walked towards the man, quite calmly. "Very well." she stuck her hand in her pocket and closed in on him. She was less than half a step away when she yanked her hand out of her pocket and sunk it into the man's chest, as it was enveloped by a searing surge of Light, carving a hole right through and blasting out the other side. The Priestess ducked quickly, only to hear a sickle whistle overhead, and spun, splitting another looter's torso diagonally with the same concentrated, short beam of holy energy.

The second to last of the looters shoulder barged her just as she was rising, and tried bringing his sword down on the staggering elf, the latter of which sunk her searing, Light-enveloped hand into his torso, and kicked the now limp corpse off of her. Luelin then stood and peered over at the last one.

"Elf witch! I'll rip your heart out!" He howled, and rushed for her. The Priestess outstretched a hand, a sphere of Light enveloping the last of the looters, like an inverse bubble or cage. Luelin approached the hamsterballed-up looter and peered at him, ears flicking as he was shouting out incoherent curses. She snapped her fingers and the ball became soundproof.

Luelin peered up at the zeppelin overhead, then glanced over her shoulder, smiling, as a familiar face came to her. "Sanya... This one's infected. Before you ask, I'm fine. You can either use him to feed your hunger or further your search for the cure..." she said, gesturing to the sphere.

[Hawk]

The crack of dawn. Sunlight was oozing in through the windows and staining the wooden floors a radiant gold. All was silent. Most were asleep. Some had the luxury of a bed, most were cramped uncomfortably on the floor. Unknowingly they slumbered. An eyelid groggily lifted and looked around the room... almost wishing it was elsewhere. His stomach snarled at him... now was the time.

Thump. Thump. Scrape. A hungry beast lurked the second floor. Unarmoured now, with a fiery red mane and beastial claws. Golden eyes reflected the sunlight. Ivory fangs were licked ravenously as the meat was browsed. That is all they were to him. Fresh meat. The means to survive against this plague. He even had choices before him.

Man.

Woman.

...Child.

The creature snatched up a man. His eyes clicked open in panic, but his throat was being squeezed like a fresh orange. Crimson juices leaked from the claws digging into it. A quiet wheeze was all he could muster before the life was drained from him. The deed was done, and with barely a sound. Perhaps a person who deserved it. Perhaps he didn't. Who cares? He was the top of the foodchain. The man was dragged away like an animal returning a carcass to their den. He retreated to his quarters and feasted upon the man as quietly as he could. Bliss. Bones crunched, organs were stripped and devoured. Some were discarded to eat another time. The people's food supply was going to diminish sooner or later... Tzekel's seemed infinite. Blood crawled across the moist, stained wood floor. Bodyparts were littered across the room haphazardly. The massacre that happened in the den... stayed in the den.

The Fleshkeeper emerged from his quarters. No one in sight. It was time to gather the others. Perhaps then his hunger would be satisfied... for now.

People were confused. Survivors they met had suddenly vanished. Tzekel was silent. Waiting for the next sunrise.

(( Tzekel will be killing nameless NPCs and eating them every morning in an effort to keep the food supply to last as long as possible. ))