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  1. 2 points
    10.19.17 Well, I never heard anything more about stealing any rare spellbooks or Borghul planning anything. Maybe the note was just a practical joke from someone? The guard at Dragonsroost Port is still alive and well. I still take him cookies every now and then to try out a new concoction, or just to get the news there. It seems their base was recently attacked by gnomes who were intent on killing Cobrak. Can’t say I blame them, but it’s still a bit comical to picture little gnomes attacking the Borrowed Time base to try to kill that grumpy orc. The guard has come to look forward to my visits, and cookies, I think. He even invited me on a mission to a haunted house to look for treasure, though his elf partner doesn’t seem too thrilled about having me along. Qabian caught the girl and gave her to me. I gave her to Baal’themar, as a gift since he made me that pretty elf-skin suit a while back. I’m sure he’ll make a pretty project out of her in his basement before he kills her. I’ll go out and see in a few days, just how pretty her human insides are. As payback, I recommended Qabian for the position of High Inquisitor when I was asked for my opinion. Nevermind that I would have recommended him anyway, even if I didn’t owe him a favor. He’s the only Grim who seems to care about doing anything other than fighting demons these days. But if I can use this recommendation as payment for the favor I owed him, then I’m fine with being in the clear. Unfortunately, immediately after, he named me as his assistant. I couldn’t very well refuse after the Commander had just punched Qabian in the face for being flippant about the position and serving the Mandate. So now it’s back to doing paperwork and babysitting Supplicants. It’s not all bad though. I can make applicants being me presents, and make Supplicants to my bidding, and watch their reactions when Awatu tells them never to kneel after I’ve instructed them to always kneel to show respect to Grim officers. I’m not thrilled about answering to an elf, but at least it’s Qabian. He’s not that bad. I went with Karthok’s soldiers and ransacked an Alliance base. I got a strange book from the office there. The cover feels like flesh and looks like it has tattoos on it. It’s called “The Twilight Canticle.” I didn’t give it to the soldiers I was with, or the annoying ogre who went with us. Karthok would probably want it if he knew I had it, but he doesn’t. I wonder if the book is worth anything, and to who.
  2. 1 point
    ((Starts at 7:00 TN/RH server time. All Horde RPers are invited. Please pretend your character doesn't recognize anyone by sight who is in costume. The auction will be first. Characters won't know who they're bidding on. (But players will.) Proceeds will pay for the costume contest prizes, and future event prizes. The "date" doesn't have to be a date; it can be just a social visit, or the buyer can try to make their "date" do a job for them, etc.--be creative! The costume contest may be broken up into categories (scariest, funniest, etc.) depending on the number of participants. A few characters not competing will be asked to judge the contest. Costumes can be transmogs or just costume items equipped, no restrictions.))
  3. 1 point
    On the Eve of Hallow's End, a Masquerade auction and costume contest was held in the Brill Cemetary. After a session of spooky storytelling, a costumed auction was held. People were "sold" to spend a day with the highest bidder. Jaina (Qabian) was sold to Scree (Tahz) for 1000 gold. Mr. Pumpkinhead (Borghul) was sold to Jaina (Qabian) for 2000 gold. The Dark Knight (Mystery Elf) was sold to Lady Pumpkin (Syreena) for 600 gold. The Terrible Thief (James Riley) was sold to the Dark Knight (Mystery Elf) for 300 gold. Scree (Tahz) was sold to Mr. Pumpkinhead (Borghul) for 400 gold. The Stars (Araun) was sold to Jaina (Qabian) for 500 gold. The gold from the sales was put toward the prize for the costume contest. The winner for the costume contest was a tie between Qabian "Jaina" Grimfire (also now known as "Coconuts") and Tahzani "The Sha" Tallfisher (also now known as "Scree"). THANK YOU to all who participated!
  4. 1 point
    Looking forward to this tomorrow!
  5. 1 point
    It was a breezy day in the Eversong Woods. Ninorra’s carefully tamed black hair drifted into her face as she sat on the stone bench beside the decorative pond on Bloodstone Manor’s grounds. Roaming the grass beside her, Damian’s mana saber kitten pounced butterflies. He seemed to get used to the grounds fairly quickly, especially after allowing him to hunt rabbits plaguing Ninorra’s garden. A few yards away, Damian knelt on the grass with one of his father’s toolboxes nearby. The boy was tinkering with one of the robots they encountered in Suramar, though what he was doing exactly, Ninorra could not say. “Damian, what do you think of your instructor?” His mother asked casually, watching him work as she lounged on the bench. “I think he’s very patient with me,” Damian answered easily. “Mm hmmm... and why do you think that is?” Damian didn’t answer right away. He used a screwdriver to tighten a nut before sitting up straight. “There are a few possible answers. The two most likely are that he either has grown to enjoy teaching me and actually wants me to learn, or that he wants us to trust him enough that he can eventually kill me.” Ninorra blinked slowly. Neither idea seemed to surprise her. “And why do you think he might want to kill you?” “Because I’m a liability,” he answered, lowering himself again to inspect the interior of the robot’s chest cavity. “Because if he actually is growing attached to me, it proves that he’s not what he says he is and he wouldn’t want anyone to think that. Especially not himself.” “Oh dear,” the warlock sighed. “You are very young to have allowed yourself to get mixed up with this sort of thing. You know I worry.” “I can’t ask you not to worry,” the boy said remorselessly. “You trust me, don’t you mother?” Ninorra’s face settled into a relaxed smile. If there was anyone in the world she trusted, it was her son. Though she feared for their relationship upon returning home a year ago, amount of time they spent separated had thankfully not broken the bond between them. “Of course, but you are still a child. You cannot expect me not to worry about your safety if Qabian decides that he wants to murder you.” “I’m not so arrogant to think it will be easy, mother. I know I’m a child, and I know I’m not even the smartest child to ever walk Azeroth, but,” he actually took the time to sit up and look at her. Bright red eyes that mimicked her own seemed far older than the eight years he lived. “I know more than just what I learned in books, or the council. I have the lessons from Corvallis, and from father too. That’s why I wasn’t upset about Corvallis when you told me he was banished. I know he’s still alive.” Turning her head to one side, Ninorra studied her son’s expression. He seemed less drawn to emotion these days, especially since Corvallis disappeared. The strangely handsome young man who tutored Damian in swordplay always seemed to take special care in Damian’s wellbeing. What had he taught the boy, exactly? “And how do you know that?” Damian smiled, and the same dimples his mother had showed in his cheeks. He immediately went back to working on the robot. “I just do.” Ninorra smiled to herself and seemed to relax. While she often found it difficult to cope with how much risk her son was willing to take, the strange connection he and Corvallis shared seemed to put her at ease. At least for now.
  6. 1 point
    Forgot to put this here: the latest Siané sketch Pose referenced off another pic & background was open source
  7. 1 point
    Once upon a time there lived a huntress. Born to a rich elven family, she grew up longing for adventure. She was as difficult to break as a wild stallion, and as beautiful as one too. Lustrous ebony hair reflected the sharp glow of her fel green eyes, and it was difficult for anyone to look away from her perfect mischievous smile. When war came, the huntress went. Trained in the shadows of the forest, she learned how to kill and how to hide. She fought valiantly for her people, and though she saw many suffer and perish, her heart remained intact by carefully locking it away. Even through war she had many lovers, and easy as it was for her to find comfort in someone’s arms, she was content to keep them from drawing any closer. That is, until she met the knight. He was much younger than the huntress, and not very bright. The knight was still in training, with the hope of proving himself to his people and fighting in the wars himself. Like the huntress, he too had black hair and fel green eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. He was scrawny, still attempting to fill out the armor provided to him, and there was no confidence in his expression. One night, the huntress spotted the knight in a tavern. The knight was having a good time with his friends when the huntress spotted him, and for a single perfect moment their eyes met. The knight didn’t know exactly what love felt like, but he thought it seemed as if a jolt of electricity ran through his veins, and an invisible hand reached through his chest to clutch his heart in an icy grip. It felt like death and it was wonderful. “By the Light,” he said as she approached him. “You’re beautiful.” The huntress smirked playfully at him. “The Light has nothing to do with it, sweetheart.” The knight seemed very confused by this. “Oh, but you’re wrong. The Light has everything to do with it.” The huntress and the knight spoke a little, and after a few drinks they went for a walk. The knight felt as if his hands and feet were numb, but still he walked beside the most beautiful person, he imagined, in the entire world. When the huntress took him in her arms, the wars disappeared. So long as the moon cast its light on them both, nothing else mattered. Morning came and the knight awoke in his bunk, never having slept. He trained with his brothers in arms, part of his mind always on the huntress and her beautiful eyes. But the huntress worried for her heart. The knight was kind, but even his innocence could not convince her to unlock the chains that bound her inside. Before the sun rose, she left the city without a word. The knight knew nothing of the huntress’ departure. He continued to train until calamity struck. The city was under attack by the enemy, and the knights were dispatched. The young knight went with his brothers and fought valiantly, but there was no hope for him among the throngs of enemies who swarmed them. “By the Light we will triumph!” He shouted into the air, giving heart to his friends. As he bravely cut through their forces, the thought of the beautiful huntress was always in his mind. Hopeful that he might see her again, the knight guarded himself with a shield, fending off blows that might end him once and for all. So distracted was he by this task that he did not notice when an enormous black knight rose behind him, and drove his sword into the young knight’s back. The pain was minimal. The knight felt a numbness in his hands and feet, electricity through his veins, and an invisible hand clutching his heart. This was love and this was death, and soon the Light in him was gone. Many miles away, the huntress found peace among the trees. She befriended the druids and the naturalists who tended their grounds, and when war came to them, she fought by their side. In this beautiful place, the huntress finally found that the chains around her heart could be loosened. Eventually, someone managed to find the key that would unlock the bindings within. He was strong and confident in his love, forcing the huntress to understand that life was worth living if only she allowed it. For a while, she was free. Until calamity struck once more. War would not forget the forest, and ever druid defended their home. The huntress fought like a demon, tearing through the enemy in an effort to keep the peace she had found. Chaos consumed the forest, and the huntress fired arrows so quickly that they could not be seen with the naked eye. She swore to defend these people, especially the one who opened her heart to the world. But when the body of her love lay before her, she felt a pain like no other. Her heart, which she kept safe for so long, cracked right down the middle. In an effort to keep it safe and whole, the huntress sealed it away once more and left the forest. Years passed. The huntress wandered the world, finding work and busying herself. One night, lost in the monotony of drinking in a tavern, she heard the cry for battle. Grabbing her bow and arrows, she ran outside to find that the enemy army was attacking. Except this was no ordinary enemy, this was the army of the dead. Mindless undead swarmed the village, and the huntress joined the villagers to defend their home. Arrows flew into faces gray with death, and indiscriminate as she was against the enemy, the huntress couldn’t tell one undead from another… until a familiar face appeared. He was young. Far younger and less experienced than most of the other dead seemed to have been when they perished. His green eyes blue, his skin gray, he had a strangely calm expression as he attacked the villagers. The huntress felt a pang of regret where her heart was hidden. It was a simple choice to put him down, this undead monster who once shared a night in her arms. Why then was it so difficult to loose her arrow into his skull? Should she not simply let him rest in peace? But a strange tug at the chains around her broken heart forced the huntress into a different action. She ran to the knight and kicked his sword away, leaving him temporarily stunned and defenseless. The knight stared at her, confused. “Stop it, don’t you recognize me?” She shouted past the cries of battle booming around them. The knight reached for his sword but found nothing. He looked down toward his hand, then back up at the huntress. A strange realization came over his face. “…who?” “It’s me!” She shouted again, though there was little else to do besides fight back when the knight found an extra knife in his boot. “Who are you?” He asked, swinging the knife, skillful in spite of his undeath. The huntress dodged his attacks, ducking and weaving through them easily. “I am the huntress you met in the tavern! Don’t you remember?” The knight continued to attack. “I don’t remember,” he said easily, swinging faster. The knife came close to her belly, prompting the huntress to kick it out of his hand. “You have to remember! We were friends!” Again, he seemed confused. The knight shook his head and looked around for another weapon. Finding none, he simply swung his fists toward the huntress. “I don’t remember a friend.” Much more skilled with his fists than the knife, the huntress took a surprise hit to the jaw and went down to the ground. “I’m sorry,” she said past the pain in her mouth. “What are you sorry for?” The knight asked curiously, looming over the huntress. “Why are you sorry?” “Because...” she muttered, feeling very stupid. Why was she allowing this to happen? Guilt? She was stronger than this. Her heart, broken as it was, could survive many more years in the chains she created for it. Why did this one stupid young knight even matter in the grand scheme of things? He was nothing. “Because you left?” He asked, as if answering for her. The huntress stared at him, dumbfounded. The knight seemed at odds with himself. Grabbing his head, he stumbled back in a daze. “..I… I don’t remember a friend… I remember… I remember you, and… pain. The pain of death.” She knew that feeling all too well. Struggling back to her feet, she attempted to approach the knight. The battle around them was dying, and her people were winning. Soon he would have to die, or… “I’m sorry,” she said again, grabbing the knight’s empty hand. “I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry you died.” Again, he looked confused. A strange realization came to the knight’s face, and even as he stared at the huntress’ familiar eyes, his own seemed lost. “I died?” The innocence of the question broke one of her chains. The huntress grit her teeth, feeling both stupid and vulnerable at the same time. “Yes,” she managed to say at last. “Yes, you died.” The knight’s face calmed a little, as if this truth changed everything. “But,” he said finally, taking a step closer to the huntress, his blue dead eyes focused on her own. “..you make me feel so alive.” Another chain fell away. Even as the fight ebbed away, there seemed to be no other sound then that of his voice. How was it possible that this stupid boy could make her feel so much in the midst of such violence? He seemed oblivious to his undead allies falling around them, and as the last one fell, one of the living knights approached him and the huntress. “Don’t worry, I’ve got him,” the living knight said with a sword aimed for his back. “No!” the huntress shouted, pulling her knight’s body toward her own. Both arms wrapped around his waist, protecting him, even as the living stared them down. “No, you will not hurt him!” Soon a crowd of the living began to surround them. The undead knight pulled reluctantly from the huntress and looked, confused, as the living pointed their swords at him. “He is dead,” they said. “An enemy to the living. It will be a mercy to put him down.” “No!” The huntress said again. “He is not like them, he will not harm you!” “Only one way to find out,” one of the knights grumbled, stumbling forward to slash with his sword at the unarmed knight. The huntress leaped into action and deflected his sword with her bow. She kicked the living knight down, which displeased his friends. Another living knight ran toward her and thrust his sword at the huntress’ back, but it never touched her. The undead knight had grabbed the sword itself, cutting into his own fingers rather than let her be harmed. The crowd gasped. What undead creature would sacrifice himself for the living? The fighting stopped. As his fingers bled black coagulated blood on to the ground, the living stepped away from the dead. The huntress stood, unhindered, and looked sadly at this young knight who continued to sacrifice himself for others. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said quietly. “I know,” he said easily, attempting to smile. “By the Light, I couldn’t see you hurt.” “The Light has nothing to do with it,” the huntress said bitterly, grabbing the undead knight’s good hand and pulling his body toward her. To the disgust of all those around them, she kissed him. A living huntress and an undead knight, beauty and death incarnate. Though he was frigid, her heart felt warm and at last the final chain fell away. Raw, bleeding and still cracked, he seemed to take it in his grasp and hold it together with his cold grip. Pulling away from her lips, the knight finally managed to smile. “The Light has everything to do with it,” he said, and as she returned his smile with one of her own, never did the knight feel more blessed.
  8. 1 point
    I've never had to spend much time with Awatu. Not that I had to spend much time with previous leaders, either, but it was occasionally forced on me. What few impressions of him I have are gentle and soft-spoken, stereotypical Tauren qualities. I've also seen him stubborn enough to be immobile once he has a notion in his head, so I've never had a reason to question his fitness for the role. Now I know he's completely insane and fits here perfectly. In the past, they've preferred deference, demanded it even. If you won't lick my boots, I'll crush you into the dirt and force you. Metaphorically, usually, but certainly by demanding your pride, rather than by simply pummeling your face. But they were always human corpses, not Tauren. Yichimet once tried to teach me something. He ended up... giving up. To this day I have no idea what he was trying to convey. Perhaps I'm simply ill-equipped to understand them. Somehow bowing angers the Commander. I... What? Why? I wasn't kneeling. I wasn't prostrating. I wasn't grovelling. I wasn't going overboard. I wasn't doing anything untoward. It was a gesture of respect. And for that, I should be punished? All right then. Perhaps he actually took offense to me telling him he was wrong. Because he was. I have never had this position. I began interviewing potentials shortly after I completed my own interview, yes, but I was never in charge. I was never in charge of anything beyond mages. They tried to force me to take charge of other people, other things, yes, but this position is not one I had. Poor dear, he was incorrect. Better beat the person informing him of the truth, yes? He accused me of mocking him. That... I was not doing, but I was -- still am, to a degree -- extremely amused, not by his words or even the situation, but by the sheer lunacy of trust, so I can admit my tone may have sounded much like mockery indeed. How am I not supposed to find this funny? I acknowledge it might be difficult to separate the fact that I find anyone asking for my help hilarious from the possibility that I believe he's inferior. On the contrary, while everyone is inferior, he is certainly less inferior than most. However, I acknowledge true subservience to no one and nothing, shu'halo nor sin'dorei, and yet I'm very good at making the pretence whenever necessary. What's the difference between pretence and actual subservience? I suppose that's for them to decide. My very reliability is itself a falsehood, but if I exercise it long enough, does it matter? Perhaps all of my time will be spent biding, but that doesn't make me hate them any less. Syreena said I was being "elfy." Exactly how am I supposed to prevent that? Does that mean he prefers corpse-like stiffness in his communications? Perhaps he prefers acknowledgment in the form of salutes? I'm sure whatever he prefers, he prefers it without the smug, barely stifled laughter that I certainly had, and that I can certainly avoid in the future. Further elfiness, however, that's an inevitable part of the package. I'd rather not continue to be pummeled for it, but maybe that's just going to be part of the job. I'll certainly endeavor to avoid it as much as possible, but I'm not going to die to be rid of who I am, or sacrifice my remaining ear to play human, sew my eyes shut and go back to Stormwind. I'll take the bruises if I must. Syreena said she wasn't simply repaying my favor, but some part of me resists that. We'll see, I suppose. And I had my revenge by making her my second, which perhaps means I now owe her, not that I've ever cared about repaying debts. I owed Acherontia rather a lot. I don't believe I ever repaid her anything. I am rather glad to see the game with Syreena's girl is over, at least my part of it. Unfortunately, other games remain. I'm not sure that hers was a good payment, at any rate. Yes, I have a taste for power, and if this were nothing more than decisions on worthiness, it would be power, but to me this is less power and more control. I dislike controlling others. If that were the kind of thing that appealed to me, I would have been a warlock when we were still allied with the humans. However, there are significant positive aspects to this opportunity, especially in terms of position and influence, despite Awatu's insistence I not treat this as a game of lords and ladies, as though nobility are any different than anyone else. And the truth remains that my intentions toward the Grim are absolutely to further its strength. In that respect, perhaps I am what is needed. I am capable enough of coping with those who have already made it this far, that much is true, but I wonder if I am at all capable of making new connections. I went to one of the dozens of Hallow's End celebrations around this time of year and it took all my willpower not to roll my eyes and shout them all down as morons, nevermind actually striking up conversation of any sort. It will be a challenge, at any rate, and that can only make me better. I hope.
  9. 1 point
    The final entry in Mardalius' logbook is different from the others: it is written in the form of a letter. Week Six: Julilee, Instead of tracking my actions against the Legion for this week, I have decided to write my contemplations on the Oaths. This punishment has given me time to reflect on what they mean to me and how to apply them to my life. I will start with peace. Peace: After fighting against the Legion, alongside the Army of the Light and the assorted groups represented on Argus, I see why we cannot be at odds with those under another banner for petty reasons such as land or racial hatreds. Justice: There are few instances where it is appropriate for one to place judgement on another. Personal insults and slights aren't reason to place judgement on others. To censure individuals for their personal beliefs is dangerously close to mind politics. Mercy: Excessive force is never acceptable, especially in the arena of interpersonal conflict. I recognize that my response to Sorel's words and actions were just that - excessive. Words dissipate into the air and can only do the damage we allow. Killing someone, however, is permanent. Sacrifice: Insults are bearable in the face of peace. Anything, no matter how personal, is worth giving if it means peace for the collected peoples of Azeroth. Actions and consequences are real and palpable. I can never take back stabbing Sorel, nor can I give him back the time I took from him. I have learned my lesson, and I will strive to be worthy to wear the Sanctuary tabard going forward. Signed, Mardalius Anterius, Battlemage The page is stamped with the same insignia as all the others, Mardalius' personal seal, a crossed sword and staff, accompanied by the House Anterius sigil, a stylized "A" emblazoned on a shield.
  10. 1 point
    Qabian stepped into Shattrath, his brow pre-emptively raised as he approached the girl's form, slumped awkwardly up against a wall not far from where he teleported in, as though she were simply drunk. He hadn't thought they would actually catch the girl. She had been so slippery up to this point, he just assumed she would get away again. Now that he had her, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with her. His mission was simply to torment, hurt, terrorize, not acquire, not dismember. He considered thoughtfully. Dismemberment would fill all of the above categories. Qabian shook his head entirely to himself, then nodded at the rough looking Pandaren. "Pack her up." "Sir?" The Pandaren seemed confused. "Don't you have a... crate or something? I need her shipped to Tirisfal." Qabian held up a hand as the Pandaren shrugged helplessly. "Nevermind. Just stand guard a few minutes. I'll set it up. Good work. I'll double the pay, as agreed." The Pandaren nodded and leaned back against the wall. ~~ Just inside the Grim guild hall, Qabian awkwardly shoves a decent-sized wooden crate off a floating disc onto the floor with a heavy thud. He stops the first person who passes and says, "Is Syreena around? Bring her here if she is. Now." Though the crate is perfectly still, it makes a soft shuffling sound. Some time later, Syreena arrives. Her steps are shuffling and staggered, and she's grinning as she plays tug-of-war with Ber and Rabble as she comes in. "No fair, Rabble. You have three heads to pull it with!" Qabian straightens up as she enters. "Syreena. Delivery for you. I could continue my campaign, but thought you might want to offer your opinion before I drop this into Brightwater and see how long it takes the bubbles to stop,” he says, knocking on the top of the crate with his knuckles. The little rogue leaves the tug toy to the undead worg and hydra and turns to the crate as a muffled noise comes in protest at Qabian's words. "What is it?" she asks, looking to the mage. Qabian lifts the top of the crate by one corner and bows with a ridiculous flourish. "Someone you know." Inside, a human girl is bound and gagged, conscious but groggy, and not particularly otherwise harmed, except perhaps slightly bruised due to no one particularly attempting to be careful with the crate at any point. "The opportunity presented itself." Syreena tilts her head curiously, stepping away from her pets to peer into the crate. After some initial surprise, a cruel grin twists her patchwork stitched features. She reaches into the box with a dagger, placing the tip of the blade under the girl's chin to make her lift her head. "Well, well, if it isn't the Professor's little pet," she croons wickedly. "And how are those sick and twisted friends of yours doing these days, hm?" Anee blinks slowly, still groggy, and makes weak muffled noises behind her gag. Syreena moves her blade to cut a lock of the human's red hair, and then bashes her in the side of the head with the hilt of her dagger in her fist. As the girls slumps further into her box, the Shadowblade looks back at Qabian. "Now what to do with her....." she says with a grin, twirling the lock of hair between her fingers. "I know this wasn't part of your... request. I can set her loose, chase her down again, if you like, keep the game going, although she did manage to go underground for quite some time and may do that again. I do wonder where she would go. She must be learning that nowhere is safe forever and that everyone she turns to for help is likely to be killed or worse. Setting her free, perhaps with one less limb, may be the worst thing we could do to her." Qabian smirks. "But given just how vulnerable she is at this precise moment, I considered you might have other ideas." Reaching down to pet the girl's hair, Syreena tilts her head as she considers. "Well, I do owe a gift to a particular someone who likes making....'projects'....out of people." Qabian raises an eyebrow. To be fair, that could probably describe several Grim, but he decides against inquiring about who she means. “As you wish,” he says. “Just let me know if she ends up finished with this world. Then I’ll shift my focus to murdering those friends of hers that I’ve left simply wishing they were dead.” "She won't be around long enough for you to worry about again." A pause, and then she grins. "Unless you want to play with her some more first. Or you can get her friends." Her golden eyes narrow as she traces a finger along the unconscious girl's ear. "If you find any of her friends from the Eternal Aegis, I'd consider it a personal favor if they suffer horribly before you murder them." Qabian laughs. "All I want is the fire, for her or any of them. I'll be sure to let them know any screaming they're granted the opportunity to do is a gift from a friend and they're oh so lucky to get the chance. Will you need help with the crate?" "Can you have it delivered to Andorhal?" she asks, withdrawing her hand and closing the lid again. "Absolutely." Qabian rolls the disc he'd used earlier off a nearby wall. He jams the edge of the disc under the crate and begins kicking it. It's all very crude for someone who's usually so pretentious. "I can take it myself. Will there be someone waiting? Though I doubt there are many in Andorhal who would give it much thought if I just leave it in a corner, even with the sounds." She tilts her head again, eyeing him closely before finally answering. "The alchemy lab there sometimes receives packages for me... Thank you. I owe you," she adds. He grins horribly as he kicks the edge of the disc and it begins to float, carrying the crate a foot or so off the ground. "Don't thank me. After all, helping you helps me. I'm hardly being that generous," he says in a tone that's less than serious. "But I will remember that you owe me." He flicks the floating crate lightly with one hand and he follows behind as the disc carries it away. The little rogue watches him leave. She's pleased that the girl can no longer cause any trouble for her, but at the same time, she's not thrilled about being in a debt to an elf. However, at the same time, in her experience, people she owed favors to rarely called them in. Turning away, she goes off to finish her business in the guild hall so she can soon head out to Andorhal.
  11. 1 point
    "Those who have not given themselves over to the Light, are mere servants of Evil... they must be destroyed." - Kirrik the Awakened The Scarlet Hand Who we are? The Scarlet Hand is a human only RP-PvP guild formed to combat both the Horde and any other threats that arise to threaten the citizens of the Alliance. What we do? We take part in all aspects of the game, our leadership has every AoTC achievement during the Legion Expansion, as well as titles for Arena and RBG's. We are looking for like minded players who want to not only partake in some fun RP, but also all aspects of the game! We are also looking to push a more fully immersive RP experience that carries over into some raiding / BG / and world PvP events as well as coordinating other RP events. Our Goals ( IC ) 1) To Spread the teachings of the Holy Light - As a guild that is based on a "pure" version of the Scarlet Crusade, one thing we want to do is spread the word of the Light. While our organization was formed after some rather disastrous events, our goal isn't just to change the outcome, we are not just a machine of war. When we are not on the front lines, our members must remain dedicated to spreading the word of the Holy Light. 2) To rid Lordearon of all Enemies of the Alliance - Our goal as a military unit that is based out of Tyr's Hand, is to help purify the former Kingdom of Lordearon from the corruption that currently infests it. From the Scourge remnants, to the Forsaken outposts, anything within the former Kingdom must be freed from the grip of terror that currently resides there, and made ready for the return of the sons and daughters of Lordearon. 3) To Eliminate the Plague of Undeath across all of Azeroth - As the former citizens of Lordearon experienced first hand, the terror that overtook the land due to the plague of undeath still hangs over Azeroth. As a member of the Scarlet Hand we seek to bring this threat to an end and have a light-bound duty to achieve this goal at all costs. 4) Cleanse the lands of corruption - As we know, the plague of undeath, corruption of the Legion, and many other nefarious threats to Azeroth damage the lands they infect. It is our goal to work with the power of the Holy Light to help in purifying these lands, including the Capital City of Lordearon, from the corruption that has taken hold. IC Details: We are a human only guild that is based on a "pure" Scarlet Crusade. 1) Even alts must be Human, exceptions can be made to the "Human only" rule with our Emissary rank. We will allow any 1 class of any race, who wants to RP as an emissary to our organization. While technically not an IC member of the guild, and IC unable to wear the tabard, it provides for some fun RP / exception possibilities with players that enjoy the idea / ambassador type RPers, who also want to take part in content with our members. ( Aka 1 Worgen 1 Gnome, etc... can be any class ) 2) Because we are a religious and Light based organization we do not currently accept Warlocks or Death Knights. ( They -MAY- be accepted as emissaries... but this relationship will at best be hostile... ) 3) An IC interview is required 4) RP name is a must - We don't love special characters, but as long as the name is RP friendly we will consider it! Our IC Relationships: The Alliance: As a human organization we see ourselves as protectors of the Alliance. While other races are not permitted into our Order, we do not dislike any particular race within the Alliance and can work with any organization ( * ) that shares our goals and ideals. We also will protect all innocents of the Alliance whenever we can. The Horde: Openly hostile. There is no room for peace of discussion so long as they protect and aid the defilers of Azeroth. Even further disgracing themselves by allowing the Banshee Queen to become their Warchief, we must do all that we can to defeat this threat to our people. The Forsaken continue to raze the fallen of Lordearon, and elsewhere, to serve the Banshee Queen and whatever nefarious goals she maintains. Not until the Horde separates itself from the Forsaken, and joins in our cause to put the fallen to rest and purify Lordearon, can there be any hopes for peace. The Silver Hand: A former bastion of the Light, this organization has allowed itself to become polluted by the Agents of the Banshee Queen and no longer is worthy to bare the name. The new Highlord has shown to be weak, and the lack of a response after the assault on Light's Hope by the Ebon Blade proved this. While there are some noble Knights that still remain out of a sense of duty and honor, the ends do not justify the means, and so long as the Banshee Queen's soldiers remain, they cannot be fully trusted. The Ebon Blade: As would be expected, because this organization is filled entirely with the Undead, it must be purified. It also seems to bend to the will of the Jailor of the Damned, and his goals have already proven to be as vile as the former Lich King, his attempt to raise Tirion Fordring and the assault on Light's Hope Chapel requires justice. Even those who have sworn allegiance to the Alliance cannot fully be trusted. The Scarlet Crusade: The members of the Scarlet Crusade were corrupted by the very same force that brought the plague of undeath to Azeroth... the Burning Legion. While there are still some men and women with pure hearts and true goals, the ways of the original Crusade must be halted. Should any former members of the Crusade approach, they must be given a chance to repent for their actions, and if they refuse, will be brought to justice. Our goal is to purify the name of the Scarlet Crusade and it's heroes, not tolerate the corruption that took control of it. It is true we admire their fervor and dedication to eradicating the plague of undeath, but trading one dark fate for another is unacceptable. (( OOC )) We have IC and OOC channels for communication and encourage all sorts of RP across both factions! RP events are a must for us, and combining our RP with PvE and PvP is something we really want to push for, not just bar or tavern RP. IC interview is required and an oath will be taken to join! :-) If you are interested send any officer an in game mail, or in game message, you may also message us on the TnG! 18+ As we are definitely an older guild, usually looking for like aged members! Be ok with RPing with and as a Scarlet Crusader! IC drama of course will occur, but keep it that way! Keep it to the IC and not the OOC :-) If we come off like jerks, its because well... we are! Obviously evil characters who come off as insane likely won't fit! We are based on the Holy Light and a military organization so discipline is something that a character should generally have. We have a discord channel / and are always willing to help and / or come to anyone's aid! --- Recruitment - Right now as long as you are human - alts included, and not a DK or Warlock, we are recruiting! ( We also have an alt rank for other human chars who have mains in the guild - Converts- ) Emissary Rank - for non humans - Recruiting 1 of each Race - Special Privilege given to more worthy applicants - Having a major in game achievement ( Challenger or better, AoTC of the current expansion, of the Alliance, etc ) will certainly help! We are also looking for officers right now, we have several in place but if you want to step into a role and help us grow we are certainly interested!