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Ableham

Voice of the Lion: Finale ((Open))

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Tynalie was out 'patrolling' the streets, when the riots started. She jogged along the road, keeping her eyes out for something.. anything to happen. After all, Spewy and Mr. Detective had given her a Very Important Mission. She was getting discouraged, though. Discouraged and bored. It had to be have been at least an hour, and there were no signs of any attack yet.

Maybe it had already happened, and she was missing it! Horrified at the thought, she grabbed the radio Spewy had given her, and started twisting the dials. "Hello?? Spewy? Choppy? Can anyone hear me? I don't see anything yet, did-"

The sound of screams and shouting carried to her from across the canal. It seemed to be coming from the Trade District.

"WHOA! I think something's happening! I got this!"

Tynalie started running, nearly dropping her radio in her excitement. What was it Spewy told her to do, again? She tried very hard to remember. But as she rounded the corner, all she saw was a chaos of bodies locked in combat. Fists were flying.. people were hitting the ground, being trampled as others panicked and began to run. And peppered throughout the crowd was the sight of worgens, some already shifted and some part way through their transformation, riled by the blood and violence.

Her face lit up in absolute excitement. "SPEWY!! ITS IN THE TRADE DISTRICT!!" Tynalie babbled into the radio. Skirting around the thickest part of the crowd, she climbed up onto a stack of crates for a better view. Her mind was racing as she tried to decide what to do.

"I should break up the fight, right?!" She hollared into the radio. She couldn't hear an answer.. or maybe she wasn't listening. Fumbling for her bags, she grabbed a handful of Dalaran rocket fireworks and started lighting them, chucking them into the center of the riot. The rockets sizzled and zinged, ricocheting through the crowd in a colorful array of light and sparks.

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Charles Onderon sat alone in the tavern, enjoying his drink and the quiet. The quiet was suddenly broke with the sounds of screaming and metal clashing. Onderon quickly stood and headed outside, still in human form. He groaned as he moved, his injuries from his recent Gilneas still freshly dressed. As he reached the door he saw an unarmed Worgen cornered by three Stormwind citizens with improvised weapons. He could hear fighting in the distance, outside Old Town and towards the Trade District. Charles moved towards the trio that cornered the Worgen, cracking his neck.

"What's going on here?" Onderon said calmly as he neared them, the Worgen looked in his direction with a worried look. He could see that the Worgen needed help. One of the tormenters turned to him and brandished the broken bottle he had in his hands.

"There's a war going on! The Worgen killed a child, and we're going to make them pay!" Onderon frowned at this.

"You three, leave, now." Onderon pointed a thumb back towards the street behind him, a look of sincerity crossing his face. The other two turned to him, one wielding an axe meant for cutting wood. The other two began to laugh as they looked over Onderon and saw no weapon.

"You're going to take the side of one of them over one of your own kind?" the first said.

"Of course he is, he's a Blood Traitor!" the second said.

"You've got some pretty good armor there buddy, but I don't see any weapons on you. What are you going to do, punch us to death?" the third said.

"Something like that." Onderon replied, standing at the ready.

Onderon controlled his breathing, stopping himself from shifting, he wouldn't need his worgen form to deal with these three. He smirked and raised his left hand, beckoning them to come at him, goading them into a fight. The first charged him with the broken bottle. When he got close enough the human tried to cut at Onderon's exposed face with the improvised weapon. Onderon grabbed his outstretched hand with his left hand and turned to bring his right elbow down onto his arm, snapping the aggressors elbow in the wrong direction. Charles then moved to trip the human and brought him to the ground. Onderon stomped down on the human's chest knocking the wind out of him and then kicked hard pushing him to the side.

The other two turned to the Worgen and then back at Onderon, looking between the two and decided Onderon was the more important target. They both rushed him together, one with a blacksmith hammer, the other with an axe. Just as they got close enough Onderon clenched his fists and pressed a trigger on his gloves, two blades on each glove shot forward made of an elmentium-pyrium alloy.

The closer human brought his blacksmithing hammer up and swung it at Onderon horizontally, Charles used his own strength and backhanded the hammer with his left arm, parrying it to the side. He moved forward with his right hand and plunged the blades into the human's weapon arm, cutting through flesh and bone. He then kicked the human to the side. The other aggressor moved in behind Onderon and brought his axe down onto the warrior's plated shoulder. The wood-cutting axe was too weak to even scratch Onderon's armor, but it made a loud noise as the steel contacted the obsidium. Unsuccessful the human raised his weapon in the air for another strike.

Onderon turned and brought his left hand forward, plunging both the blades into the human's chest. The human looked at him wide eyed, dropping the axe. Charles yanked the blades out of his chest and stepped back. The human fell to his knees and then face first into the pavement. The other two humans were injured, but would survive.

Onderon turned to the Worgen who was still cowering in the corner. "Shift back into human form and find a safe place to hide." The Worgen nodded, as he ran towards the Dwarven district. Onderon looked towards trade as he shifted into his Worgen form.

Things were about to get interesting.

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Corissa jumped slightly, clearly startled by the commotion that was taking place outside in the Trade District. "What in the Fel?..." She looked to one of her many companions. "Chione, come on girl." The fox slowly rose to her paws from the corner she was resting in, from inside the inn, and made her way over to her master. Corissa smiled softly at her fox once, as it started following her, before picking up a brisk pace, and going to the source of the commotion. As she neared the area where the commotion was coming from, a large group of beings were gathered around the general area.

Slowly she made her way deeper into the crowd, and raised one brow as she noticed one of her kind standing nearby three humans, looking quite beat up. Her eyes then landed on the woman dressed in rags, holding her child. Her eyes grew dark for a brief instant, as she noticed the bite marks on the infant. A few seconds later her eyes, landed on the corpse, of the now dead Worgen. She then looked back to the Worgen, still standing near the three humans. She said nothing however, instead looking directly into his eyes, with a look of confusion in her eyes, her fox standing faithfully by her side. Yes, she was a Worgen, but she wasn't about to show her true form, least of all now. Maybe he would pick up on her expression, or perhaps even her scent. She felt the eyes of several others who were there on her, but she paid no attention to them, instead continuing to look at the Worgen.

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Tovann woke up from his nap, the reflection of a setting sun on some empty beer bottles blinding him momentarily. He glanced up peering from under his hat, noting that the sun was nearly set. He rose, empty beer bottles rolling off and away, not that he could hear it. It sounded like a war zone, and momentarily confused, he checked to see that he still had his rapier before peaking out from behind the boxes that had served as his sleeping place. The Canals were one big mess of a brawl, with what seemed to be crude weapons the norm, but he did hear explosives coming from Trade, either fireworks or bombs, and with the situation, he guessed the latter.

'Horde!' He thought out loud, which was then followed by some curses in Thalassian he picked up at a distant port from his marine days. Wait. He rubbed his eyes and then took a step back as a knife, poorly aimed at some poor worgen, flew past, sticking his hat into the wall. He turned to retrieve his hat, it was his Pa's old hat, before spinning on his heel to look over the boxes. That was a guard who threw that knife.

Stepping over the box, he was then forced to take a step back as another guard thundered past, with a unmarked plate soldier a bit behind the first. He remembered a month past, talking to some worgen revolutionaries. He had made a promise.

Acting quickly, he shouldered into the unmarked soldier as he ran by, sending the man straight into the canal with a loud splash. He already had a excuse in mind, 'Well he was unmarked and it looked like he was chasing the guard!' He turned to those who were pursuing the guards, grinning. 'I got em good fer ye lads, didn't I?!' The four Worgen merely snarled, and didn't make any inclination of stopping, and unluckily for Tovann, he was the new target. Guess they didn't take acts of kindness well. He pulled his sword, then did a double take. Flimsy rapier, four big bloodthirsty beast men, flimsy rapier...

A loud clang, the woosh of four small goblin rockets attached to his boots, and Tovann was down the street towards Old Town.

Maybe the Pig was still open.

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For the first time in his life, Cuergo knew what it felt like to be the victim.

It had been a perfect plan, really. He had accepted his new identity, passport, and nifty deputy badge courtesy of betraying Venedict Abner, or Hoodie as he was better known, to SI:7 - and then made for the harbor and ship passage to Stranglethorn Vale with all haste. He should have succeeded too, and would've have been sipping a cold beverage on some sandy beach with a dozen beautiful Goblin females at this time. That is, if it hadn't been for the confounded wagon!

He had stumbled upon a wagon, filled with a noble family's entire fortune, and, best of all, discarded in the middle of Stormwind. Like any normal man, Cuergo had quickly loaded up, filling his pockets, boots and packs to the brim with the treasure. And then he had found another wagon of the sort. And another. Cuergo had used every trick in the book to carry his massive, newly acquired, glorious burden. He had tied some of it to his leg, arms, chest and back. He had lashed a rope between a barrel full of shinies and his foot in hope he could drag some along. He had even stacked some of it on his head and hoped his balance would make it all work.

But the weight had bogged him down. He had advanced toward the harbor at a snail's pace. Worst of all, the strain of carrying out such a Herculean task had exhausted his last reserves of energy. And then the riot had caught up. He could hear the screams, clash of steel, and cacophony that generally accompanied a riot growing nearer every minute, but finally, it had overtaken him.

It hadn't helped that he had flashed his deputy's badge at some of the approaching miscreants or that he had barked a threat in an authoritarian Westfall accent. It hadn't helped that he had furrowed his brow at them in a manner he thought closely resembled a law man's stern expression. It hadn't helped that he had called them smelly curs and insulted Gilneas. It hadn't helped that he shared their curse.

Like a dark tide they had descended upon him with all the fury of Sargeras himself. Kicking, clawing, biting, punching, tearing, ripping in a maelstrom of violence. Luckily the treasure had taken the brunt of it. But Cuergo had still sustained considerable injuries.

He was pretty sure both his legs were broken, not to mention most of his ribs. His vision was blurry, the darkness just on the edge of his perception. And his hair, surely his hair was ruined. As he lay motionless on the cobblestone, pretending to be dead, he cursed lady luck. She had presented him with great abundance and had taken it away in an instant. Lady luck. The thrice-damned wench. Desert him, would she? Hah, he'd show her.

He waited for the riot to pass to the next district and then mustered all the strength he could, dragging himself on his belly, his ruined legs trailing behind. The pain was unbearable. Almost blinding. Yet he crawled his way forward, one cobblestone at a time, digging his hands into the street for grip. He would make it to the harbor yet.

It continued like this for what seemed a lifetime. At long last, he could go no further. He collapsed with a dreadful groan and was horrified to observe that he had advanced a mere dozen paces towards the harbor. His life flashed before his eyes. All the treasure he had passed up, the opportunities for plunder he had missed. And of course, thoughts of revenge and reckoning. Elf Hair had done this. Him and Hoodie both. The wagon, the treasure, the worgen, no doubt they had planned it together all along! No, it had been Tovann Westwind - the son of a yellow-bellied bilge rat. No, Nika and Audrapel had to be behind it! Blasted cravens. Yes, them two. They sure had got him good.

Then everything went black.

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The Worgen and Humans are rioting!

Mack Porter had been around long enough to know that Stormwind did riots very well. In fact, it was what made him make sure SI:7 and the keep both had a good supply of riot control gear. The problem was, the riot-specialized guards housed their weapons in the Old Barracks, meaning SI:7 and the keep would have to do. Because the keep would be locked up, they needed to get to SI:7. And the fastest way of doing that was to go though the trade district. Realizing the entire room was looking at him, Porter sighed. He had been about to teach Micael riot control when they were given their first assignment in Theramore... It seemed like a life time ago. Standing up, Mack looked over the guards and operatives. Most of these kids were too young to have experience in the Masons riot. In addition, most of the guards and about 1/3 of the agents had no combat experience. This was bad. At least most of them had armor and shields... That would help. Agent Porter motioned for them to shut up, before crossing the room to a large cabinet. Rifling around, he found a small stock of riot gear, the thing the magistrates office carried to meet requirements. Inside were basic examples of stopping riots, including a few gas grenades, a box of rubber rounds, and, fortunately, a healthy supply of SI:7 issue handcuffs.

Raising one of the purple handcuffs, Mack spoke clearly and loudly. "Welcome to Riot Control 101. I am professor Porter. These are the tools we are using today. These are MagiCuffs. They are awesome." SI:7 handcuffs, were also known as MagiCuffs. They were, in Mack's opinion, the most amazing thing that had ever existed. Why? He spoke his mind loudly on the subject to his... students. "They aren't shiny and silver, they are purple. The reason was they're unbreakable, forged by Dwarfs, imbued with magic, and thick with Gnome technology. The key is also only carried by high level SI:7 operatives. They have their problems though too. One problem is they are a pain in the ass to get on. It take nearly 40% longer to put on. Another is that they were hell expensive. "These are only used for riots, and so regular law enforcement isn't not assigned them." This was true. He had given the three Red Blades standard handcuffs too. Issuing them to the group, he quickly explained their use before showing them all how to use rubber bullets, which stunned the target for about five seconds. Fire like regular bullets. Unfortunately, the real gear, as in the stuff they actually needed, was at SI:7. They didn't even have batons. Looking around he frowned. He wanted to leave this office building. It smelled of politicians, and that made him sick.

"I wanted to leave with a baton charge. We have no batons. Use the sheaths of your swords... Or..." With a tremendous amount of force, Mack smashed a chair and threw an agent a thick piece of wood. "Officers will use anything from sword sheaths to chair legs to whack the crap out of these rioters. We are leaving with a charge. A third of us will charge in a shield wall, with the men behind them firing the rubber bullets, beating, and MagiCuffing the rioters. Our goal is to get to SI:7, raise the alarm to the military, and get the gas so we can end this. Masks are at SI:7 too. We need to also secure the armory at the Command Center. That will fall soon. Our priority though, is the gas.

The gas was a magical invention from the Night Elves. When inhaled, it dropped the inhalers. Some of the gases stung the throat and eyes. The ones they had did that. The ones at SI:7, with the gas masks, were different. They made the rioters fall asleep. Watching the man prepare, Mack realized Micael was already by the door. Walking over with a package, he whispered something softly. Nodding, Goerin grabbed a small package Mack handed him, and ran upstairs. Turning to his troops, Mack sighed.

In one large surge, the doors flew open and out poured the group. They quickly arrived in the Trade District, firing at all targets and cuffing many, mostly humans. Mack quickly noted this. Mental note: The Worgen are fast. Firing his rifle, Mack noted a Worgen standing in the shadows, holding a sack of gold. Raising his weapon, he fired twice quickly at Northgaz before moving back to the fighting. It was getting intense. They needed to get to SI:7. They needed that gas. Now.

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Micael swore loudly as he ran down the streets. Ducking into an alley, he quickly wished he wore armor. Dammit, he only had the under-chain vest. It would have to do. His badge was clipped to his waist, and his radio was in his pocket, silent for his assignment. Mack had been quite clear, and Goerin replayed the orders in his head several times. Take down that son of a bitch reporter. Find him, and find out how to stop this fucking riot. Find out who Venedict Abner was if possible. Sighing to catch his breath, Goerin tore open the package and mentally gasped. While he did have a sword, and a knife, Mack had decided he needed to carry a bit more of a discreet weapon.

This weapon was a handgun. Not a Dwarven military standard issue side-pistol either. This one could be fired several times before he needed to reload the box thingy, the muzzle, whatever Mack called it. The problem was that although he had been trained in their use, Micael was no great firearms user. He was somewhat competent, but this thing was high tech, and would screw with his mind. On the ground dropped a lethal holster, which Micael recognized as Mack's, two MagiCuffs, a flashlight, extra power sources for the flashlight and his radio that Blunder was probably blowing up, and a box of ammo. This was a godsend to most, but to Micael it only brought on two questions: How the hell did Mack put this together so fast? and then, Will I ever be able to thank him?. Looking at the gun nervously, Micael checked to make sure it was loaded. How did you do that again...? He pressed the button on the side and out popped the chamber, or whatever the box was called.

It had real bullets.

He knew Mack expected him to go hard with this assignment, and of course he needed to. The city was going to be under marshal law in a few minutes. There was a reason lethal action has been authorized. Gently putting the handgun in the holster (it took several tries to do properly. Why couldn't Mack issue him a damn hammer, or an axe?), Micael drew his sword. This weapon he knew well. Running up towards Ableham's street, he made up his mind to avoid knocking this time. However, before he even got close to the reporters house, he was cut short, tackled by a Worgen.

Fortunately, it couldn't bite him, mostly on the reason that he had his sword out and used the hard steel handle to hit it, while cutting its chest. This came at a price. His sword was knocked out of his hand from the flailing, while the Worgen transformed back into a human... Why...? Goerin quickly realized the Worgen's heart had touched the silver necklace he wore, a simple hammer of the faith. No matter though. It was now hand on hand mostly. Micael was a trained SI:7 operative. This fight with the man would be a joke, even though this man had a knife. As Micael began punching him in the head, he suddenly wished he wore plate gloves... Damn! Why didn't he?! You didn't expect this... No one could have. Another Worgen, who Goerin assumed was his friend, was sprinting up the street now to help. The new Worgen was actually slightly hobbling due to, what Goerin assumed, was a sniper-inflicted wound. And now, even worse than two on one he was getting punched in the stomach. Dammit! He couldn't reach his knife... Wait... Mack's gun. Kicking the Worgen in the chest, Goerin reached forward and snapped the Worgen's human hand, using his other hand to hurl it at the second Worgen. It flew wide and hit a tree. It mattered not. He now had distance to draw the handgun. He better have learned to aim... Drawing the weapon, Micael fired three shots, taking out the charging Wogen with the third, before ending the others life with two bullets, one to the brain. Now for Ableham.

Ducking behind a large tree, Micael removed the square piece that housed the rounds and filled it with bullets. It looked like the weapon could hold about a dozen shots before he had to reload the box. It was only now he noted that the bullets were silver plated. Worgen hunting.... He shook off this thought. Running across the street, Micael saw the print shop. Raising the gun, Goerin broke down Ableham's door with a kick. Raising his weapon and his flashlight, he sprinted to where the reporter was, pointing his handgun at the man.

"I trusted you! You lied to me and all of the city! People are dying, Jon! Kids! Who the fuck is Abner? Where can I find him, and how do I stop these attacks?!" For added effect, he cocked the weapon. "Answer or I'll take you out of circulation!"

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Northaz dodged the first bullet, but took the other bullet in his arm, growling slightly at the pain but seeming undeterred by the rubber bullet he threw a single bladed Throwing Axe at the back of Mack's head as the man foolishly turned his attention from him, then he was gone, having climbed the wall behind him and ran off across the roofs of Stormwind.

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Dwarven District would be the next attack, sure the riots were spreading rapidly… but that particular attack was nothing but the first. Five men would walk into the Royal Bank of Stormwind. All clad in black, and Jon watched them as they nodded at him. They were Defias operatives… but… what were they planning to do? He gave them a look of confusion…

Taking out rifles, they would hold point them at the men and women still at the bank, “Everyone stay put where you are!”

A scared man, not older than 25 came forward, hands raised…. And they shot him in the leg, his cry of pain shooting into the streets.

“I Said Stay Where You Fucking Are! Are you deaf?!”

One of his companions gave him a curt nod. Then they pulled out metal flasks and drank from them in unison. The hostages looked at their captors with confusion. What in the Light’s Name were these men doing? Should they over take them? This had to be some kind of trick, didn’t it?

Two men charged at the black clothed men, stopping in terror at the last instant. They… they weren’t men anymore! No, quickly they convulsed and expanded. Quickly… they became feral Worgen… but… something else was wrong about them… That look in their eyes. A feral Worgen was bad enough… but ones hopped up on Rage Potion? There would be screams of terror as Micael entered the District… Fresh ones. Ones that were alarmed at a new threat.

Some men retreated to the Large Vault in the back, trying to close it before—they were too late, as the door closed and locked in place… they were pinned with one, the screams of horror could be heard even behind the metal and stone at the apparent carnage.

One went into the tellers’ booths, slaughtering them as they were; the other three would sprint outside with blood frenzied howls. A Dwarf raised a rifle, shooting on in the chest. But… as enraged as it was, it just kept coming. Ripping the Dwarf’s throat out, it kept coming. And kept coming. Out in the streets there was a fresh massacre. And what did the Agent worry about? An old man.

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As the Carnage played outside, Jon realized in horror what the Defias had done. That… that wasn’t part of the plan! This wasn’t the way this was supposed to be! No… a riot, that was all he was promised. A way to make people see the Evils of this ‘Race’. The Horror had even deafened him to Micael’s approach.

That is, until he spoke.

Putting his hands above his head in the air, Micael would get a good glimpse of the truth of Ableham’s knowledge… The mark upon his right hand. “Cuergo tipped you off?” He asked, knowing the answer.

And Jon felt his Master’s shock, even as far away as he was. “...What?”

“Good.” Jon said, smiling in relief, not moving to look at the man yet, “I feared he’d take the note at face value. The one thing you can always rely on Cuergo will surprise you… I’m glad the gambit paid off.” Jon’s voice sounded so calm, slow… as to show he didn’t mean to make any sudden movements.

“You. Did. What?!”

“I did lie, Micael. And I’m sorry I lied to you… But it was better for you not to know…” Now Jon’s voice started to rise in emotion with every sentence, now he turned to look at Micael. “Abner is not pleased I tipped off Cuergo. But… that won’t matter soon enough.” Jon sighed, his hands still in the air.

"...What are you…" Jon could feel his Master's Seething rage...

“Nor does your threat to put me out of circulation, sadly.” And then Jon gave one more frown, “…I tried to spare you the agony to come, you know.”

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ZING!

There went another rocket through the crowd, showering everyone nearby in a cascade of colorful sparks. The rocket hit the ground and exploded, resulting in a satisfying bang and pelting everyone immediately around it in stinging sparks. It was doubtful they noticed, given the intensity of the brawl.. Tynalie frowned. She should have brought bigger fireworks! Or dynamite.. maybe there was some dynamite in Raventy's Bosom. She'd have to check, later.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the final Dalaran rocket. It was her last one.. she'd better make this one count! Balanced precariously atop the stack of crates, she quickly scanned over the crowd. Her eyes lit up when she saw a new force arrive- a wall of guards were coming, lead by Mack Porter. She would have to make sure everyone noticed their arrival. That would scare them off, for sure!

Tynalie lit the last firework. "INCOMING!!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, and tossed the rocket towards the group of guards Mack was leading. She'd give them a grand entrance.. it would make them seem that much more intimidating, and then the crowd would stop rioting. It was brilliant! Mr. Detective was going to be so impressed by her quick thinking!

ZZZZ-IP!

The Dalaran rocket whipped past Mack's head before reached its mark, hitting the cobblestones just in front of the charging Riot Guards. A shower of sparks marked their arrival. Tynalie beamed, waving frantically to Mack. Then she stumbled, as the stack of crates were nearly knocked out from under her. A hand grabbed her by the neck and yanked her down.

"GURK!" She was staring into the face of worgen. His lips peeled back in a snarl, saliva dripping from his teeth as he opened his maw wide. Reaching down, Tynalie grabbed her mining pick that was strapped to her side and swung it upward. The curved bar jammed between the teeth of the worgen just as he tried to take a bite out of her face. The worgen roared in anger, hurling the weapon away. Suddenly, he was slammed to the side as two humans tackled him. His grip was released on Tynalie and she gasped, rubbing her neck that he had been squeezing unnecessarily hard!

Tynalie backed up against the wall and looked around, in a sudden panic. Her puppy! Where had he gone? For a gut-wrenching moment, she was afraid he'd been trampled to death.. or maybe a worgen ate him. But then she saw him, the little praerie dog was huddled next to the stack of crates. Tynalie scooped him up, yelping as a fist caught her in the face. Scrambling backwards, she retreated towards the canal, and away from the thick of the fighting. She'd better go find the others!

First though, she had to hide her puppy somewhere safe, and find a new weapon. Looking around quickly, she spotted a barrel next to the winery and tossed the praerie dog inside. It squeaked as it hit the bottom. "I'LL BE BACK!" She yelled, and then went pelting down the road, sporting a fat lip and fueled by a healthy dose of adrenaline. Now to find Choppy, Spewy, or anyone.. They were going to need her help, for sure!

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Micael was not in the mood to deal with this fucking reporter. He knew from the beginning that this guy was a douche. Moving forward he grabbed Ableham by the front of the shirt and dragged him up, handcuffing him as he did. Pushing Ableham backwards into the chair, Goerin resolved to have this son of a bitch executed when this was over. Raising his handgun, Goerin growled. "Tell me everything about whats going on tonight. If you don't, I will personally find and kill everyone you know and love, including Venedict Abner. I will hang their bodies from your door. Or better yet, I'll bring them here and kill them in front of you. Now tell me EVERYTHING. I want targets, places, plans!" As if to show he was serious, Micael drew his Gnomish Army Knife, drawing out a blacksmiths hammer and slamming it hard onto the table.

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Mack ducked as the drug addicted blond nearly blew his head off. This also saved him from Northgaz's axe, which flew over the small group and hit a human in the leg. Light bless her hallucinating mind... And why the HELL was she still running around with that stupid rat? It made no difference now. Raising his weapon, Mack fired the rest of his rubber bullets at targets around them. These rounds helped quell the riot a lot. Many bodies fell to the ground and were MagiCuffed before they could move. However, they were now out, and the violence made them need to use lethal force. Firing into the crowd as they ran, Mack realized he would soon need to switch rounds. Yes, out came the silver bullets, locking and loading into the shotgun. Aiming at a Worgen that was probably no older than sixteen, Mack hesitated. This Worgen had already taken two humans down. SI:7 could use them. But right now they were uncontrolled, insane. Making up his mind, Mack fired two shots, hitting the Worgen in the chest, and then once between the eyes. What a waste. The agents had expended their MagiCuffs. Nearly 30 bodies littered the ground, 10-15 of them actually MagiCuffed, the rest dead or dying. The group of Guards broke, and they all began sprinting to SI:7. Get to the gas, gas them...

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Onderon saw a familiar face on his way, Cuergo. He was stumbling slowly, loaded down with something HE had to have something to do with this, there was no way he was innocent. Onderon snarled and hopped from rooftop to rooftop quietly following him, not that he needed to. The noise from the trade district had spread towards the Cathedral and even Old Town now, mage Quarter was probably joining in any second now. The Army would be here soon. Onderon looked down towards Cuergo and frowned, he would find out what he had to do with this.

Suddenly a Worgen leaped from nowhere onto Cuergo and assaulted him violently. Onderon snarled and leaped onto the ground. The Worgen took no notice of him and continued to maul the now unconscious human. Onderon leaped forward into the Worgen, tackling him to the ground. He closed his fists and beat the nameless Worgen violently before being kicked off. Charles snarled, extending the metal blades. The Worgen stared at him and then at the blades.

"You would turn against your own kind, what are you a blood traitor?" The worgen spoke, before snarling.

"Shift into human form, bub, and I won't have to hurt you." Charles said calmly. The worgen replied with a leap towards Onderon with his feral claws extended. The warrior brought one of the twin blades up just as the Worgen got in range, plunging it into his shoulder. The force of the blow combined with the leap sent both of the worgen tumbling. The other worgen cried out in pain from the blades. Onderon yanked them from his shoulder and beat the Worgen in the face with his fist, knocking him unconscious

Onderon dragged the body to the side of the street and dressed the wound, the worgen shifted back into human form. He would be safe until the riot was dealt with. Charles turned and looked at Cuergo. He moved to the seemingly unconscious body and noticed gold spilling out of every pocket. Onderon snarled.

Filthy swine.

He grabbed Cuergo by his torn shirt and lifted him from the ground, the gold he was carrying spilling out all over, his boots falling to the ground. Onderon leaped to the rooftop and moved towards the Cathedral. "Cuergo, my boy, today's your lucky day. I'm feeling quite charitable. You get to live while I go deal with this riot."

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To this Jon couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, “Everyone I love IS dead. There is nothing you can do to me, Agent Goerin. My son died thanks to Varian’s Insistence to fight the Horde in the North. My grandson was infected and tried to kill us all… I had to put him down. And my daughter?”

Jon eyed his shotgun across the room, “…She killed herself.”

Closing his eyes, “I did what I could to help you. I tipped of Cuergo, I tried to get you out of the city so you wouldn’t have to feel what it was like…” He sighed opening his eyes; one could tell he was close to breaking his clam again. Tears were welling up in his eyes. Looking at Micael… And the feral Worgen behind him. “Micael! Look out!”

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Northaz had bounded across the Trade District roofs with ease, and jumped to the Cathedral District, he was suddenly nearly toppled by Onderon as their pathes intersects.

"Oi! Watch where you're going man! The fel!" Northaz was was indignant as he discreetly moved the gold behind his back.

His eyes then fell to Cuergo.

"Is that...? Hey, how much for the body Plate guy?"

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Veirdan had been transversing the alleyways in trade district on his way to a contact when he heard the screams of a woman saying a worgen had killed her child. A sudden shock filled him, he had to investigate.

The rogue decided, like many times before, that he would gain roof access to better find the person he was looking for.

After taking a short time to get atop the roofs, as he has done it many times before, he started heading in the direction of the screaming as quickly and as stealthily as he could, hoping not to be seen by the city guard.

Once he reached the source of the screaming, he crouched low on the roof, seeing the woman holding a seemingly lifeless child and watched the event of the worgen being brutally beaten by the guards, with his blood pooling into the water.

He watched as the brother of the worgen sprang at the guards in fury, tearing at the throat of one of them. He watched as the chaos broke out, as the fighting started.

The rogue watched, quitely and in shock, wondering if this was the attack that he heard rumors of.

He began thinking of his years in his now resigned position from SI:7, it taught him to think based on what he has heard and what knows of coincidences that there might be more to this than just a another random act of chaos.

With that thought in mind he watched the woman even more closely than before, thinking that this may be a trigger for a planned attack.

The rogue thought, crouched low on the roof, that maybe this was just a horrible incident of someone "crying wolf".

He wanted to know the reason, if there was one, behind this. He kept watching and following the woman's every action as all of the other chaos broke out among the streets.

He stayed there waiting for her to do something else, even while he heard more screams breaking the air from the Dwarven District, he had to know.

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Before the Worgen behind Micael had a chance to do anything but step inside, a sword ripped through his chest, the very tip of the blade poking out visibly before it was twisted violently and torn out. The blow was not quite fatal to the enraged beast; he snarled, blood flying from his fangs as he spun to face his opponent. Seeing what appeared to be a fully armored Stormwind guard, his jaws closed down on the woman's shoulder while his claws tore instinctively at her stomach.

Swearing violently, Evellin dropped both of her weapons and jammed her gauntleted fist into the corner of the Worgen's jaw, shoving his mouth open and off of her. She then took a hold of his head with both hands as he struggled, weakened from her first attack, and twisted sharply. The Death Knight waited until she heard the satisfying snap of a broken neck before letting the monster drop limp to the ground. Tearing off her helm, she focused on the two men in front of her, quite familiar with the both of them.

"Jon. Micael." Eve's voice was strained as she tried to ignore the fresh wound on her shoulder that had nearly torn the arm off. "The fel...is going on here?" She knelt down to retrieve her fallen swords, eyes locked on Micael and Ableham.

The orphans were nowhere in sight; she'd taken care of them before the riots had even begun.

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Turning the minute he heard Jon's warning, Micael raised the handgun and locked the Worgen in the sights. Rapidly he began pulling the trigger, but nothing happened. It was good that he left the safety on, because otherwise he would have blown away Eve. Seeing Eveilin in guards armor, Micael considered blowing her away too. The Red Blades did have a hand in this... Hesitating, he lowered the handgun. Seeing her wound, he wordlessly raised his hand, sending a bolt of Light down and healing it over. It would be sore, but it was fixed. Using his gun to point at Ableham, Goerin spoke angrily. "You know, don't you, Eve? Jonny here tried to get, or rather got, your corsairs to attack the city in tandem with his little Worgen riot. Him and some Venedict Abner, whom I think you Red Blades know as Hoodie?" Goerin was getting angrier by the moment.

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Eve howled as the Light hit the wound and she immediately felt the searing pain, undead as she was. "Are you fucking insane?!" Her body jerked as she attempted to compose herself, grimacing and reaching up to grab her injured shoulder. First a bite, and then a burn; maybe going into the city wasn't such a good idea.

The Death Knight's eyes continued to narrow as she listened to Micael talk. Know? When did she ever know anything? Regardless, her words were quiet and calm, though that did nothing to hide the hatred that lay beneath. "On the contrary, Mic, I've been busy with family matters. All of this is news to me." Her forehead did crease in thought at the mention of Venedict, though she did not comment. "And all I've seen is Worgen. I haven't heard the docks as being under attack."

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The canals that separated each of the districts were much calmer than the more congested parts of the city. This wasn't a good thing, Tynalie thought to herself as she pushed herself to run faster. She was going to miss everything! A group of guards appeared from the tunnel that led out of the Trade District, and one of them made a grab for her.

"COMING THROUGH! I'M ON OFFICIAL BUSINESS!" Tynalie hollered as she waved her deputy badge frantically in the air. Ducking to the side, she twisted out of reach of the hand that was trying to snag her, and went careening across the bridge.

Entering the Cathedral District, she skidded to a stop as her eyes fell on a trio of people in front of her. And then her face lit up, when she spotted Onderon. Immediately, she made a beeline towards him.

"Mr. Terror! Did you see what-" She stopped in her tracks, just now noticing that Onderon was carrying an injured and beaten looking Cuergo. Her eyes got huge, for just a moment. But she recovered a second later. "Oh, I can help him! It's a good thing I'm here! I'm almost as good of a doctor as Choppy!"

Beaming proudly, she wrapped her arms around Cuergo took him off of Onderon's hands. She grinned excitedly to Northaz who was also standing there.. she vaguely recognized him, but didn't really know him.

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Due to the radio and information given to him, not to mention the news papers and actions taken against Mavis for being a worgen and all of the other little signs that had been all around him for some time now. When the riots broke out Urich Blackfoot was no where to be found. No one had seen him on the streets no guards had tossed him in jail. Even his organ stash remained how it had been left. He seemed to have simply vanished into thin air.

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“Jonny is dead. Leave him out of this." Jon snapped angrily before he sighed,"You misunderstand the Situation, Micael…I Wanted Cuergo to contact you.”

Suddenly, Jon felt the lash of his Master’s will… Forcing him into cooperation again. Jon was out of line, he was being reeled in once again.

“I am alone in this.”

“I-I am alone in this.”

“The Redblades are not involved. Venedict Abner is my alias.”

“The Redblades are not involved. Venedict Abner is my alias.” Jon spoke what lines were fed to him, “I fooled Cuergo. Venedict Abner died a long time ago; you can even see his headstone in the Graveyard. Leave Miss Raventy out of this.”

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Micael nodded at Eve, barely caring. He needed to stop this. He knew Ableham was lying, he just couldn't figure out where. Dammit, why didn't he ever listen to Mack? He needed to deal with Eve first... Buy himself some time. Fortunately he believed Eve. She had never been someone who he found to be a liar, although he wouldn't put it past her. Well, might as well apologize for the whole 'sending a bolt of your biggest weakness straight into your wound' thing. Sighing he looked at her. "I'm sorry, I forgot you're a Death Knight, I didn't mean to ham you, just heal your injury." Being a terrible liar, Micael's voice told everyone that he was telling the truth. Eve saved his ass and he was just repaying her. However, he DID notice her forehead crease at the mention of Venedict. Why does she know that name? Turning to Ableham, Goerin forced his mind to think like Mack. The older agent's voice resounded in his mind.

Deep breaths... Focus on the problems in the suspects story...

"Johnny? I assume that would be your son that died against the Horde? I'm sorry for your loss, John. I didn't mean to put salt in the wound."

Again Mack's voice called attention to the inconsistencies in their combined stories. This time though, his own voice answered Mack, beginning a conversation of his thoughts.

Eve clearly knows the real Venedict Abner. He also said to leave Miss Raventy alone. Not the Corsairs, but her. Cuergo specifically said they were two separate beings. So Ableham is lying.

Can you prove it? They aren't going to just come outright and say 'Oh gee Micky, you're so good, you caught us!' Think about Ableham's voice.

...It was strong when I insulted his son on accident. When he said he was alone he stuttered... But why? Can he be possessed? Eve is a Death Knight... Maybe he is channeling the real Venedict Abner?

Eve did say she was on family business... But you've read her file, she has no known family... So Venedict Abner can't be related to her, can he? Or maybe she's under an alias...

Fuck, Mack, I can't do this... Venedict Abner is obviously SOMEONE to her, but who? Lets say her husband, wait...

Slowly Goerin's eyes widened and nearly popped out of his head.

Holy fuck, she's undead what if... Holy Light, Mack... IS VENEDICT ABNER IS UNDEAD TOO? WHAT IF HE'S FORCING ABLEHAM TO TAKE THE CREDIT AND THROW ME OFF? Ableham said he died years ago, he didn't say if he stayed dead though!

Micael turned so fast his neck nearly snapped. Looking at Ableham, he sneered cockily. He knew now. He was brilliant to figure this out. "Venedict Abner is dead? Did he stay dead, Jon? And Eve, how do you know Venedict Abner? You're dead, he's dead. I think you were married." While Micael was off, most of it was right on key. Thinking like Mack had given him a new sense of serene awareness. He would save this city. He had to. And the first step was Venedict Abner.

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After the Wolfsbane smoke bombs, it would be harder to trace the woman. However, one so intent and well trained in the art of tracking would be able to make out a silhouette in the chaos. In her rags, she did stand out… a bum in the Trade District, it was interesting expertly she maneuvered within the crowd.

And if that wasn’t a clue enough, her reaction to the bangs of the fireworks showed even more of her training. Quickly she made herself a smaller target, moving against the walls to ensure she had less lines of sight against her. Even still, one could notice how she kept her calm as she darted through alleyways.

Then came the check point. Here there were a dozen guards trying to block off the rest of the rioting they could into the Trade District. As they had heard commotions elsewhere, they knew other places had broken into the same utter chaos… But they were still determined! They would not break file and rank!

But with a quick motion--one could only assume a strike—and a kick on a rioter, the men tightened their guard. Quickly the man changed into a Feral as well. And that, that was enough to cause a break at least long enough for the woman to dart through. From here she burst full speed to the next archway to which was the entrance to Old Town. From there, she ran and hid away inside the house of none other than Judge David Shaleton’s home.

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