Bonfire

[Garbhan]

Garbhan huffed inside his cousins home smelling like swamp. He had been in Booty Bay most of the week on business and he was in a hurry.

"There you are! You're running out of time you know" Eibhe smiled as she always did, all ready helping her Great Granfather out of his gear. He'd been missing her. He most liked how she always spoke Dwarven around her. Common was such a strange language, even after so many years.

"Stop yer griping, I'll make it. I always make it." Garbhan's surly voice was muffled halfway through his words as he pulled his robe over his head. His Regiment Pants, Boots and Bracers were on, which saved much hastle. Eibhe brought him his dress coat, a simple red, brass-buttoned affair with epilets and tassles hanging from the shoulders. The gold pin with the crossed hammers which marked his Genralship within the Regiment was all ready shined and in position on the high collar.

Garbhan slipped a cigar between his lips as he worked on the buttons. Eibhe giggled at his frustrated grumblings, often stating that buttons were better made when he was a Sergeant. When he finished with his coat, he let out a sigh of relief. There was no rest for him though as Eibhe snatched the cigar from his mouth and handed him his Tabard. With an indignant snort, Garbhan hefted his arms up and slid his head through the hole, then belted the cloth into place around his waist.

Eibhe handed the cigar back, then smiled. "My, my, General Steelbrow! You certainly can clean up if you want to." She laughed again, which made his heart glad. He was about to say something when she kissed him on the cheek and ushered him out the door quickly. The newly formed Alliance War Council was waiting, and the guilds would want more action.

((Think of it as a teaser for upcoming events. More to come!))

[Runyarandir]

(( I liked that story, it's sweet. Sweet like, endearing-sweet, with the grand-daughter and all that. :) ))

[Hifazat]

((Now that was a nice read. Enjoyed it.))

[Garbhan]

((I like 'behind the scenes' stories. You know. Regular stuff like changing clothes and having troubles with buttons. Thanks for the good responses, both of you :D ))

[Lupa]

((I like 'behind the scenes' stories. You know. Regular stuff like changing clothes and having troubles with buttons. Thanks for the good responses, both of you :D ))

((I agree! Its so easy to get caught up in melodrama we sometimes forget the simple stuff, like shopping for groceries, or deciding which boots go with what leggings..etc.. Garbhan you are our grounding totem!)) :D

[Garbhan]

((I like 'behind the scenes' stories. You know. Regular stuff like changing clothes and having troubles with buttons. Thanks for the good responses, both of you :D ))

((I agree! Its so easy to get caught up in melodrama we sometimes forget the simple stuff, like shopping for groceries, or deciding which boots go with what leggings..etc.. Garbhan you are our grounding totem!)) :D((*Flexes groundingness muscles* Thanks Lupa =) ))

[NorthFace]

((/tar Garbhan
/cast Moonfire (Rank 1)

Er... sorry bout that. Force of habit. Totem destroying reflexes and all...

But yeah! Nice little read! ;D))

[clys]

Aw, Garby, let's dance!

[Garbhan]

((Back, ye with pointies! Back!))

[Garbhan]

*On a scrap of paper found amid the corpses of Splintertree Posts guardsmen.*

-6pm, Sunday. Arrive at Darnassus
We will have one hour for organization. Trust that yes, it does take that bloody long.
-7pm Fly to Astranaar. If you don't have the flight path, it's suggested you get it.
-March on Spintertree Post. We're going right through the front doors. It should fall easily.
-We must kill the Wind Rid[Paper rip]oon as possible. There is no other Commander known.
-Hold the Town. Toss explosives, set fires. Burn it to the ground.
-When resistance is too great we will charge out of the wall and fight our way towards Astranaar
The Regiment doesn't retreat. We advance in different directions.
-Look after [Burn mark] soldier who comes to fight for us is left behind.
-Defend Astran[Burn Mark]he inevitable counter-attack.

[Garbhan]

They were just coming on Astranaar now. It was expected that the Horde knew they were coming, as there had been casualties on the road. The Alliance force was forty strong, all adventurers mighty and of high renown. The Ironforge Regiment ran, red cheeked and huffing, to stay in the front of the line as best they could. Their pride couldn't allow otherwise. With them were many others: Red Lyons, Swordwaltzers, the Keepers of Stromgarde, Order of Turalyon and perhaps more. Garbhan's eyes were old and the colours were fading.

The Horde guards barely had time to react. In truth, the Alliance warriors were caught off guard as well, as the Orcish soldiers were cut down by Bullet, Arrow and Spell before so much as a sheild was raised. Captain Pylith, who had been placed in command of what was known to Ironforge as Operation Bonfire, ordered the assembled warriors to a halt.

They complied, but just barely. There had been blood spilt and many of their blades were dry. Garbhan marveled for a moment at their lack of discipline, edging forward, as if none could see. After a bit of thought, he admitted to himself that most had likely not been trained to the standard of his soldiers, and that was hardly a fault of their own.

Hifazat, the Warlock from the Keepers of Stromgarde, moved forward with a nod from Pylith. He walked into the outpost, when two grunts jumped at him from either side. One was wrestled to the ground and strangled by a Voidwalker which phased into being just in time, while the other was shot to bits by the stationary hunters. Hifazat's mission commenced after that, as a young Tauren female, a baker by the looks of it, was incinerated.

Captain Pylith called for advance and the Alliance steadly followed behind Hifazat, butchering any who carried a weapon, while the Warlock bloodied his hands. The town was theirs immediately, all resistance cut to pieces. The warriors began to gather wood and sticks, making fires in the center of town with the help of Mages. Torches were being made when a ruckus broke out. It seems a small group of civilians had holed themselves up in a building and, mistaking them for soldiers of the Horde, they had been ruthlessly killed. Anger and shouting went through the ranks as many cursed about the deaths of innocents.

Garbhan growled, watching silently. Another civilian was killed. The shouting grew louder and, after some heated words, there was a split in the ranks. Roughly half their number, in a few minutes, fled the Post. Garbhan's voice spoke aloud in Dwarven to his soldiers, saying "See how the fighting men and woman of the Alliance handle blood! The old and the young are killed every day by the Horde, and when - even by accident! - we kill a few foolish orcs they flee! So eager they were and now look! Hold firm, you soldiers of Ironforge. This is how you show your quality."

Those of the Ironforge Regiment stood a little taller then, as the older soldiers set their faces grim and the younger gained new understanding of their role in this world. At that point a Goblin, Pixie he would later learn was her name, gurgled at his feet. She was dying. She looked to him for help, unable to speak. A heavy dwarven boot pressed steadily onto her windpipe ended her pain.

They left Spintertree post bloodied and burning, but still standing. Their forces were split and they were unable to rip it down as permanently as intended. The Regiments newest recruit, a trained hunter for the last eleven years, came up to Garbhan afterwards, bruised and battleworn, asking "Where d'we strike next week, sir?"

[Lupa]

Lupa took out her quill and parchment. Scarce had she returned from her foray into the depths of the cursed ancient city of Zul'Gurub when the rumours started filtering through the population of Orgrimmar of the unexpected attack against the Horde outpost at Splintertree Post.

This was exactly the type of thing the Council was sure would happen someday, and what it was planning on trying to avoid.

Esteemed Lord Demitri Karkarov.

I am sure by now you have heard of the Alliance attacks against the outpost at Splintertree Post. It is what we expected, but I cannot help but believe if we had been vigilant, the warning could have gone up sooner and lives could have been spared.

I believe the Nether Council plans are more vital now than ever. Our people need assurance they can conduct their business in safety, without the threat of Alliance brigands. This is a matter of Horde honor.

Yours respectfuly;

Lupa'gaJin
Ambassador of Citadel

Sealing the letter, Lupa deposited it into the mail slot at the Bank in Orgrimmar. Then she left for the field, to practice with the hefty new axe she stripped off that Bat Priestess corpse in Zul'Gurub.

[Karkarov]

Demitri paced around the dessecated throne room of Lordaeron reading the letter he had just recieved from Lupa but the dim light seeping in through the cracks in the roof.

"So Lupa wishes to strike back at the stunties and thier so called "regiment". Hehe... Oh yes this is Council business to be sure."

Quickly grabbing his raven feather quill and ink from his belt pouch he set on the ancient golden throne and wrote a quick reply.

Of course dear Lupa. This alliance threat must not go unregarded, or punished. If they have struck Splintertree then we should return in kind with a vengeance on the town of Astranaar and make the Alliance know we will not stand aside and allow them to run rampant over the youth of the Horde!

We shall hold conference as soon as possible, and plan our offensive.

Signed,
Demitri Karkarov
Knight of the Immortalis
Lord of the Nether Council

They thought they would leave Splintertree burning? Foolish little drunk stunties that they were. All they had accomplished is raising the ire of the Hordes forces and giving the Council an enemy to strike. Nothing is more unifying and strengthening than a common enemy... nothing indeed.

Demitri couldnt help but chuckle to himself as he went through the elevator and into the deep underground passages of the Undercity and slipped the reply letter into the grimy and blood encrusted mailbox.

[Garbhan]

((Oooo!! Do either of you mind if I put yours on our website? This is juicy.))

[clys]

Hearing the mighty Karkarov muttering something about stunties, Clys grinned and rubbed her hands together. Patrols! Splintertree burning! Counterattacks!

Life is good, she thought. Maybe I can dance with Garby before he falls in the battle, too....

[Alucian]

Alucian stood on the docks in Auberdine, waiting for the boat to arrive. They were to travel to Duskwood to begin their patrols, to save their newer recruits from the merciless blades of veteran Horde.

Too many things had happened to him in the last few days. He had assured Kurohane that he was able to handle fighting by her side despite, but he knew even then it was a whisper of a hope. Ashenvale was an area that needed their help and protection just as much as Duskwood and Redridge. Besides...the idea of working off some of his lingering anger on a few Horde skulls seemed choice.

It hadn't turned out like they wanted. Not at all. It wasn't the honorable raid whose battle plans had been laid before them a week prior.

All Alucian could see in his mind was a back clad in Alliance colors. He knew the raider needed assistance, and he summoned the powers of Elune to heal his wounds. Elune's grace shone around him, and he turned to give thanks.

It was then Alucian saw the corpse of the helpless civilian the man had just slain.

The knowledge hit him like a punch in the gut. He found himself unable to breathe. How...how could he support an offensive willing to slay everything breathing...didn't that make them no better than the Horde...?

Alucian glanced up before him and saw the colors of the Ironforge Regiment on the back of another warrior. He lowered his gaze and scrubbed his palms against his pants again, though they carried no blemish or stain.

He never raised a hand against those helpless innocents...but their blood was on his hands all the same.

[Conidivh]

((Fled the post? Hardly. ))

--edited to reduce possible flare up over this, but I'll be damned to see the Swordwaltzers or the Order of Turalyon called cowardly because of pulling from the attack and choosing to go defend towns rather than see civilians die.

[Karkarov]

((feel free to use anything I post IC in open RP threads like this one. If you claim you "intercept" a message just make it garbled or damaged or something so it looks more... believable.))

[Garbhan]

((I don't mean to insult either guilds. I know you had perfectly good reasons for leaving.

However, Garbhan Steelbrow, my RP character, has this thing about getting piping mad when someone leaves the battlefield before the battle is deemed over. It's a risk. He sees it as putting his mens lives in danger for selfish reasons.

Don't mistake my wee IC speach as trying to put down anyone. I like Alucian's post. That's exactly how it should be. Good RP, whether it went as everyone thought it would or not.

Edit: And at what point did I point fingers at either guild?))

[Kurohane]

((You didn't Garbhan.))

Her glowing gaze flowed smoothly over the elegant lines on the parchment. Aimiar had always claimed her hand writing to fancy to be read clearly. Well, if the recipient had issue with it, they could find a translator.

The events of the previous evening still plagued her mind, weighing on her heart and turning her stomach. They had been mislead, truth be told. Mislead by someone she had respected and considered a close friend. Balah nuzzled his nose up under her arm and into her lap as he sensed his master's discomfort rise once more. The poor cat... He had no concept of what had happened, what he had unwittingly participated in.

The raiding of Splintertree had gone as planned at the beginning. They had assembled in Darnassus, spoken words of encouragement to each other and their friends. From what the Swordwaltzers understood, the mass of Alliance adventures would move in and hold the horde outpost. They would bring the city to a halt and then fall back to Astranaar to defend their own. It was not really the way of the Swordwaltzers – their path was defense – but they would aid their allies in this matter.

The force moved on to Astranaar for final preparations. The Swordwaltzers greeted their personal allies, the Order of Turalyon, and the lot lined up, prepared to go to battle for the Alliance. Finally, the call to move out was issued. Kurohane spoke the Walter's oath to herself, the words only audible to those nearby, “Protect what is; fight for what must be.”

They moved in a large mass, her Swordwaltzers keeping close to her as they moved along the road. Her heart beat more for the coming battle than the run. Casualties along the road... They were surely known and reported by now. There was no doubt of that. The army was ordered to a halt. A frown pulled at her lips... Why halt here, now? To wait for a few stragglers? The should have pressed the advantage, moved forward before reinforcements could be mustered. However, she held her tounge. Pylith was, once again, leading the raid, and it seemed that everyone else was fine with his direction. She shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the weight of her mail armor, glancing back at the Waltzers and Order.

The order to move was given once more and they pressed forward. Two guards met with her arrows as Balah growled impatiently at her side. The force advanced yet again, following in Hifazat's footsteps. She understood that there would be some civilian casualties. There always were in war. There was no denying that. Hifazat had been all to eager to make those casualties and she turned her gaze to their surroundings as he did his deed. Finally, they were in the post itself. Her arrows were flying once more, to those horrid flying beasts the horde used as transport. Her hulking cat finally had his chance to lay teeth into something, snarling as he leapt in the air to rip a wing. When finally the chaos of the initial push died down, she turned her gaze across the nigh sea of Alliance. They had done it, though it seemed everyone was unsure of what to do now, milling about aimlessly as they were.

That was when the first cry went up. Her gaze jerked over to where Alucian was, looking dumbstruck. Corpses lay on the ground before the fighters there. Corpses of bakers, crafters, merchants... Her heart leapt into her throat as her eyes bulged. What did they think they were doing?! They were to hold the city, not kill every living being in it! Her stomach knotted as she took in the view beyond those corpses. The Regiment was piling up wood...

She sneered over those gathered before her, not truly seeing any of them anymore. Her voice rose just seconds after she heard the same order issue from Daedraug to the Order of Turalyon.

“Swordwaltzers, pull out.”

A rough tounge licked her hand and she glanced down to her lap in surprise to find Balah looking back up at her. She had become lost in thought... Her gaze turned back to the letter and she laid it down on the table once more before signing her name to it and sealing it with the crossed swords of the Swordwaltzers.

Alliance War Council,

Thank you for the opportunity to be a part of the War Council. However, in light of last night's attack, the Swordwaltzers are resigning from the Council. We wish you luck in your continued endevours, but we cannot be a part of such acts that go against what we stand for. If you are ever in need of aid defending Alliance lands or cities, feel free to call upon us.

Elune guide your path,
Kurohane Mistviel
Ogema of the Swordwaltzers

[Grisch]

Grisch knelt in the middle of the blackened ruin that remained of Splintertree outpost. Around him the orcs were already working to rebuild and the sounds of carpentry could be heard over the crackling of the funeral pyres. There were still many bodies around and behind him others of Sanctuary searched for survivors. There was little hope however.

The attack had been thorough and swift. By the time news had reached the rest of the horde, it was over and there was no chance to save those who had fallen here.

Reverently, he knelt beside a corpse, a tauren. The body was unrecognizable but it was clear that she wore no armor and had wielded no weapon.

Around him it could be his imagination, but he felt like the spirits of the dead still wandering among them. Lost and in shock, they lacked logical thought now and were simply pure emotion. These souls had been denied their right to die honorably and had instead been slain like animals. As their anger filled him, he lifted his shaggy head. As their outrage pooled within him, the ancient bloodlust of his heritage coursed through him and he struggled to control it.

The sorrow of the place combined with what seemed like incessant whispering in his ears and Grisch could bear it no longer. A tear, more from the intense effort of keeping them out of his head than the sorrow or pain, rolled gently into his white beard. In that moment, he gave up and allowed himself to become their speaker. A speaker for the dead.

Kneeling there, eyes glazed over, he whispered, as if in prayer: "Vengeance. Vengeance first, and after that we will seek our Sanctuary..."

[Aquizit]

Pylith cursed under his breath, downing yet another Cherry Grog in Bruuk's in Ironforge. His second command.. and the War Council loses two key guilds, because of his short-sight.

"Ah should have remembered!" he shouted, slamming his mug down onto the table, causing Bruuk to glance over, curious at the sudden noise. Pylith was usually cool, calm, collected, but he seemed rather hot-tempered this evening, curious as to what it was all about.


In Pylith's head the battle replayed itself over and over.. reaching out to shout at Bremithian to stand down, and not attack the terror-stricken horde peon at the base of the tower, but it was two late.. the creature fell with a cry, and the shame washed over Pylith's .. and the raiding party's spirit immediately. He saw other lower-seasoned raiders do the same, as the tally of civilian bodies rose and rose. He tried to call out orders, but the cry of outrage and confusion drowned out his voice, the discipline was gone. People.. entire squads breaking off and retreating to avoid the further bloodshed of innocents. The smell of blood, death, burning wood and flesh.. he shuddered in his chair.. suddenly regaining himself back in the bar.


He grumbled again, trying to figure out what went wrong.. then it hit him.. Seasonal differences.

To the less experienced, horde were horde.. and were meant to be destroyed on sight, as they've not gotten the discipline and code of honor training that the higher-seasoned fighters had achieved. And so, the killing of innocents was not looked down upon as much as it was for those of higher experience. Unfortunately, Pylith, as raid commander, had overlooked this obvious problem, and now feared that he would not have the honor of leading such an operation very near in the future.. just when he had thought he found something he was good at.....


It would all be brought up in the next meeting.. if everyone didn't tear each other's heads off anyhow.. only time.. would tell.


[ I completely over-looked that aspect. Civilians were not to be killed, the entire raid knew that and I trust that everyone knew that was the case.. however, the lower lvl'd players with us didn't see that civilian tag.. and.. a civilian of lvl 40 to a 60 will still charge and attack a lowbie of 20.. so, there would be the problem.. We had to defend our own. I say this.. in apology to the two guilds.. Swordwaltzers and Turalyon, it was my over-sight. I apologize to you both.

[Kurohane]

((We're not laying the blame on you, Pylith. Mistakes were made on multiple levels, but they were mistakes. Nobody did this on purpose. Kuro's biggest beef, bigger than the DKs, was the burning of the town. ^_~ I can understand taking it all hard in character, but please don't let it affect you so much out of character. *hugs*))

[Alucian]

((*points up* What she said. :) ))

[Garbhan]

((Whew =) I was worried. Now for the nitty gritty rp stuff, which ought to be interesting))

[Daedraug]

Daedraug's knuckles tightened underneath the oiled leather of his gauntlets. He hung suspended in the air, swaying in the soft breeze, one hand and one leg locked around a strong branch that overlooked the Post. He forced himself so relax again, words of his mentor about being one with his envirnoment cycling through his head like a mantra. He had immediately moved to get the Order and the 'Waltzers away from the battle, but he needed to see it all with his own eyes.

The Regiment's General boomed below, his voice echoing among the branches. He called out in mocking bravado to the soldiers who remained, speaking of true bravery and necessary bloodshed. Of all the things Daedraug would stand for, of all the things that could be called into question when it came to the Order of Turalyon, the strength of their conviction was not the thing he would see questioned. Not with all they had been through.

It was not conviction that had driven these green warriors to their deeds; it was stupidity. Daedraug began cursing the man who had been in charge of eliminating such souls from the village but stopped short.

What were they even doing here? His best friends had locked themselves in mortal combat over the worth of an innocent life, regardless of the skin it wore. That was only a few months ago; and now he was here, allied with the type of man who would volunteer for such an act and those who would stand by as such plans were laid.

And he was becoming one of them.

Who did he think he was? Who did they think they were? He sprung up to the branch and began to descend as quick as he could. Had this General faced his own brothers and sisters in battle? Would he die before innocent blood was shed in his name? Could he see past his own hate to view the truth of this war?

No, it was not the conviction of the Order or the Swordwaltzers that needed to be questioned. Conviction is not present in the coward, and what more than that did it require to take arms against children and farmers? If these men thought the only way to beat the Horde was to become them, his allies would show them that the only way to overcome the Horde was to hold true to what made them different.

[Aquizit]

[ You realize Garbhan... that Pylith and Garbhan will have a BIG fight over this.. Garbhan egging the slaughter on and Pylith trying to hold control of his forces and regain discipline and honor. ... Should make for some very interesting drama. ]

[Kurohane]

((Drama between Garbhan and Pylith? Oh hun, just wait until poor "Garby" has the misfortune of running across Kuro. She's piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissed.))

[Daedraug]

((That, for those who aren't in the know, is a bad bad thing.))

[Haldren]

((Oh hell, I'm the one who gets beat up when Kuro gets mad...DAMN YOU ALL!!!))

[Kurohane]

(( :O I have a reputation it seems... Oh and Hal? You just make such an adorable punching back. <3 Then again, you boys have only delt with me getting grrr OOC. You haven't had the pleasure of pissed off Kuro yet. Lovely knows a bit about that. Hehe.))

[Garbhan]

((Well I'll be sure to get my soapbox ready. No one, not even those in the Regiment have seen the fire and brimstone of an angry old priest like Garbhan.

Oh, and this is great! I'm so glad this has created this much rp :D ))

[Lupa]

((Oh, and this is great! I'm so glad this has created this much rp :D ))

((Wait for it my little bearded ale sponge..)) :wink:

[Celuna]

((resists the urge to roll a dwarf named beardedalesponge))

[Garbhan]

((Oh, and this is great! I'm so glad this has created this much rp :D ))

((Wait for it my little bearded ale sponge..)) :wink:

((/shy You sure know how to get a fella's attention

Oh, and I saw a dwarf called Stonegroin once. I was howling.))

[Hifazat]

It had been two days since the battle in Splintertree. Battle, thought Hifazat to himself, not a battle a bloody mess. It was an utterly pathetic attempt to fight. The rabble as he referred to them now fell apart within a matter of minutes. Hifazat's thoughts trailed off as he noticed Rohan was looking at him oddly.

They were in one of the many empty inns of Stormwind. It seemed only the dwarves enjoyed the fine art of drinking. Hifazat took the drink Rohan offered him and just sat there his face burning with anger. Rohan quickly broke the silence.

"So what’s on your mind Demonic one?" asked Rohan. Rohan was a Paladin of the Light, but he was one of the few people Hifazat tolerated. Even though Rohan was inherently weak for his choice in depending on the Light, he made up for it for his zeal for battle and his desire to eradicate the horde. Rohan was Arathor. A strong bloodline ran through his veins and his hatred for some of the horde stemmed from that.

"What do you mean what’s on my mind? You were there Rohan. You saw how the alliance showed weakness once again. You wonder what is on my mind? Well I am wondering if the alliance even has a chance in this quest to remain as a civilization."

"It was not all bad, opinioned Rohan, "We did meet our objectives and we emptied out the entire town. I noticed you enjoyed the blood bath you created". Rohan winced at the last comment.

"The objective was not of concern to me. What annoyed me, well shall I say brought my bloodlust forward was that I was imagining kill members of the alliance as i burned through the horde. The alliance, this pathetic excuse for a war council is a waste of my time and that of the Keepers. We Keepers owe our allegiance to Stromgarde. That is all. Stormwind and the rest rot in hell for all I care right now A battle will have issues. There will be problems. That does not mean you turn tail and run like dogs."

Hifazat stopped to catch his breath, while Rohan quickly interjected, "Working on the war council benefits us. That is why we are a part of it and it is the will of Lord Jerone. I hope you understand what that means demonic one".

Hifazat responded sneering "Don't tell me what Lord Jerone has said on the matter paladin. Least I feed you to my felhunter for your effrontery. There will be problems with every battle. There will be innocents who will be killed. That is war. These weaklings know nothing of battle...."

"And you do oh Demonic Master?" Rohan quickly interjected.

Hifazat responded with a blistering slap to Rohan's face. "Sarcasm annoys me. Do you really wish to earn my disfavor?"

Rohan says nothing, but his eyes burn with a defiance that only earned Hifazat's respect a fraction more.

"Shut up and listen young paladin. The horde attack our cities. They are always on the offensive. They kill our men, women and children and what do we do? We try to attack a small insignificant fort and the alliance can not even do that properly. The horde cares not for whom they kill. After all they have repeated attacked, our cities and they have even killed our children. Something which we have not exacted retribution for at any time. Is that strength? Is that just? Children are killed and the alliance does nothing. That is weak and apathetic."

"What’s more is that they say, that we will become animals if they we start acting like the horde. Well to hell with them. If they want to maintain their moral superiority and see children killed, let them. I hope the horde kills these pathetic members of the alliance. I will not stand by to see the children of Stormwind killed and then say well we won't do the same because its evil. An eye for an eye paladin. That is all the horde knows. You do not treat cows and animals with respect. You beat them in to submission. When a rabid dog attacks you, do you, try to dissuade by words or do you grab a sword to kill it?"

Not waiting for the paladin to respond, Hifazat continued, "This is a war. This is not time to be discussing the morality of life. Civilians will die and they will continue to die. We can only do two things. Learn to live with our innocents dying or exact retribution. From what I saw in Splintertree, some members in the alliance do not have the stomach for battle. The future of the alliance rests in its ability to exact vengeance for who were killed and inflicting heavy damages to make sure that the innocents are not killed again."

“The horde will continue to kill with impunity. We just let it happen. That is truly pathetic. The horde attack our towns and our weak and we just stand there. Letting them do it. We should aim to put an end to this right away. But the alliance has to maintain its dainty manners and believe in some imaginary code of ethics that allows its own people to be butchered in the streets of Ironforge and Stormwind." Hifazat stopped suddenly as if he had thoroughly exhausted what he had to say.

Rohan silently contemplated the words of the demonic warlock. Disgusted with the situation and his inability to do anything on the matter, Hifazat slammed down his drink, and stormed out of the inn without a word to Rohan.