Cloudspeak
05-05-2006, 09:33 PM
As I looked about The Park, I did so with a mixture of satisfaction and sadness. All around me the elves were dead. While I did not view the carnage with the same glee as the rest of The Grim, I had no regrets. Their deaths were well-deserved. Speaking of themselves as protectors of the natural order, yet with their actions nurturing the corruption they called Teldrassil. In fact I was most satisfied with their deaths. These druids would not pass on their faulty wisdom to others. Looking back, it chills me now that I had grown so cold in regards to death.
No, what saddened me was the scorched grass, the burning trees. A necessary sacrifice for the greater good, I thought. The Forsaken, another necessary evil on my path of retribution devoured the dead as the sounds of fighting died. By “any means necessary” it was said among The Grim, and so I had come to them, making their battle cry my own. The tumor infecting the Earthmother would be scorched from existence. I would not falter in this nor fail to restore my tribes honor and lift the curse of Two-Fires.
Of course, all had not gone smoothly. Not even half The Grim force had been mustered when we were discovered in the basement of the elven tavern. Ironically, it was not by elves, but by dwarves. No doubt they had drank the bar dry and had stumbled into the basement looking for more drink. We ceased our summoning imediately and pressed the attack with what we had. It was a route and we had little chance, but we did accomplish our mission. The elves of The Park were dead and the message there was no place they could hide delivered. They were replaced as is the norm in things, but more cautious no doubt.
As the last of The Grim began departing the battlefield - via stone or foot - I pulled out a letter I had dictated to a goblin a few days before the battle. I used Broknog, an expensive yet talented goblin who rarely mistranslated and performed his job well. Walking up to the one lamppost to escape the chaos I struck it to the timber and activated my stone.
“Elves of Azeroth, this is only the beginning of the wrath the Earthmother shall unleash upon you and those who would shelter you. Is it not enough you nurture the tumor you so selfishly planted on the Earthmother’s soul, but now you cower behind cut and molded stone built by others?
If you have the courage, do what you know is right. Denounce your Staghelm and burn out the festering wound your experiment of arrogance has spawned. Fail to do so and I will act for you. My allies and I will burn your tumor to its very roots. Mark my name, for I will not be deterred from my quest to bring peace to the Earthmother.
Garn Cloudspeak,
Corrupted One of the Grim”
No, what saddened me was the scorched grass, the burning trees. A necessary sacrifice for the greater good, I thought. The Forsaken, another necessary evil on my path of retribution devoured the dead as the sounds of fighting died. By “any means necessary” it was said among The Grim, and so I had come to them, making their battle cry my own. The tumor infecting the Earthmother would be scorched from existence. I would not falter in this nor fail to restore my tribes honor and lift the curse of Two-Fires.
Of course, all had not gone smoothly. Not even half The Grim force had been mustered when we were discovered in the basement of the elven tavern. Ironically, it was not by elves, but by dwarves. No doubt they had drank the bar dry and had stumbled into the basement looking for more drink. We ceased our summoning imediately and pressed the attack with what we had. It was a route and we had little chance, but we did accomplish our mission. The elves of The Park were dead and the message there was no place they could hide delivered. They were replaced as is the norm in things, but more cautious no doubt.
As the last of The Grim began departing the battlefield - via stone or foot - I pulled out a letter I had dictated to a goblin a few days before the battle. I used Broknog, an expensive yet talented goblin who rarely mistranslated and performed his job well. Walking up to the one lamppost to escape the chaos I struck it to the timber and activated my stone.
“Elves of Azeroth, this is only the beginning of the wrath the Earthmother shall unleash upon you and those who would shelter you. Is it not enough you nurture the tumor you so selfishly planted on the Earthmother’s soul, but now you cower behind cut and molded stone built by others?
If you have the courage, do what you know is right. Denounce your Staghelm and burn out the festering wound your experiment of arrogance has spawned. Fail to do so and I will act for you. My allies and I will burn your tumor to its very roots. Mark my name, for I will not be deterred from my quest to bring peace to the Earthmother.
Garn Cloudspeak,
Corrupted One of the Grim”