A Grim Assault; The Mandate Rises

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A Grim Purpose


The complete destruction of the Alliance is the goal towards which we strive.  Though we are loyal to the Horde, we believe the Horde leaders are not always able to take the necessary steps to ensure its survival.  Many who are allied under the banner of the Horde do not agree with our methods.  But talk and half-measures are for the weak.  It is through our hands that the Horde will become the dominant force on Azeroth and the world beyond.


~The Grim Inquisition



Time: 1600 Hours



Deep in the heart of the Swamp of Sorrows, Mai’kull beckons his steed along the path towards the now forgotten Horde outpost; Stonard. It was abandoned in the second war, but re-established during the Thrall era to maintain communications in the southern regions of the Eastern Kingdoms. Now people simply use it for quick transport to Karazhan, but it was its original purpose that he choose this location. One of the very first strongholds built by the horde upon their arrival to Azeroth, it was from here they lead some of the most devastating assaults of the First War…and with his help, it would be that again.



As he reached the center of Stonard, he was able to evaluate its condition better. A Command Building, An Inn, A Suitable Forge, and a Flight Master. It was not pretty, but it was functional enough for his goals. A little work would be needed to ready it for the forces that were to come, but he had time for that.



Dismounting, Mai’kull made his way into the command building, He could see two Sin’Dorei already inside. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry. I just can’t stand the thought of cured ham steak from Thultash again. If only we could get some of that succulent roasted quail!” Cersei Dusksinger stated to her companion before taking notice of the Forsaken. “Glory to the Sin’dorei” she stated, giving a small bow to Mai’kull.


Yes, Im looking for the commander of this outpost, if you please” Mai’kull stated in Thalassian, returning the respectful gesture. He could see the woman’s lip curl hearing her native tongue out of something so hideous, but did well to try and hide her disgust. “Ruag is upstairs…” she answered with a wave. Mai’kull nodded to Cersei and moved past to head up the winding staircase.



Commander Ruag” Mai’kull stated as he saluted the Dispatch commander. “Blood and Thunder! How may I help you Forsaken?” “Light the fires, withdraw your scouts and prepare your men…Stonard re-awakens tonight.” He stated proudly as he handed a sealed scroll to the commander. Curiously, the Orc took the scroll and began to read. His eyes widened with amazement as he looked from the scrolls to Mai’kull. “I wasn’t aware…” “Yes. The details of this assault have been kept close at heart until the proper time. With blessing from the Dark Lady, our forces shall arrive later this evening, I hope you can have the outpost ready.


You bet your boney ass it will be ready! Ill prepare my men, we shall not let this opportunity go to waste! FOR THE HORDE!” Mai’kull once again bows before the commander “For Dark Lady Sylvanas!


Time: 1800 Hours



Mai’kull perched himself atop the Command Building, giving him a full overview of the camp. He watched the Peons and Guards move about shuffling supplies about the Burrows. A few members of the battalion began to file in and check into the Inn, serving the camp before heading back off for final preparations. Thultazor was brewing cauldrons, and Thultash was preparing meat for grand feasts to sate the warriors that were inbound. Karakul was busy hanging more hammocks and setting throw pillows to accommodate the growing number of visitors, Hekkru busied himself cleaning and setting up cages for the Beast Masters companions. The forges in the back burned bright, giving the swamp a wave of warm air, as the Smiths readied their armaments for the battle ahead.


Guild Heralds from all over were marching into the camp, The Banner of their respective Guilds who pledged their allegiance to the cause waving in the air as they carried their Guild Chests into the command building for storage.


Stonard was alive with activity, and once again becoming the bastion of the Horde Offensive against the Alliance. Everything was falling into place…


Time: 2000 Hours



Mai’kull had spent many months working out the best way to fulfill the will of the Mandate. Fighting alliance on the battlegrounds about the world was not enough, nor was it going to bring peace. To truly live up to the mandate, he had to spread its will to the minds of others like him, to reach those unknowing or unwilling to face the reality in the world…that they were at war…and make them fight, so show them it was possible. To that end he sought out others who viewed the world as the Grim did, and brought with him the will of the mandate to their ears.


And the acolytes of his call answered. Appearing at Stonard to stand with the Grim were members of many banners. The Dread Horde Coalition: Darthtooth Grin, Dark Clan of Fenris, Redwood Tribe, Thunderhoof Clan, and many many others who heard the call of battle stood ready. Mai’kull reveled at the sight of his work, uniting so many under his cause. A force well over 80 strong stood before him; Fed, Hydrated, Rested, and Warded for battle, he was finally ready to unleash the true Will of the Mandate.



Mai’kull had exhausted an immeasurable amount of time and effort into this. Using his magic and engineering skills, he had infiltrated each major city one by one. Testing and exploiting every method of weakness within until he solidified the battle plans. For each city he had outlined infiltration, lockdown protocols, engagement rules, and an exit strategy. He did not rally this large of a force with hopes and dreams alone, but with cause and means to perform one of the greatest achievements of their time:




Time: 2030



Deep in the halls leading to Old Ironforge, through a Ritual of Summoning the Battalion stood ready…. Quite…Patient…Eager to shed blood. This specific target was the vex on everyone’s mind, everyone who called the Magister mad for planning the assault for how defended a fortress Ironforge was. And now they stood but a few feet away from their target, the alliance forces none the wiser. This is what was going to make or break the Magisters reputation…should the Raid fail here, it would fall square on his shoulders. All the planning, calculations, and manipulation for nothing…


The Battle Horn was blown, and the Raid advanced, directly into the High Seat where the Council of Three Hammers took residence. No one could have anticipated a force of that size and magnitude in the Heart of the City. The Guards were overwhelmed immediately. Per his instructions, a splinter group of the Battalion launched from the High Seat and headed straight for the Hall of Mysteries in the Mystic Ward. Should any Alliance in Dalaran catch wind of their assault and try to use the portals in Grayfang Enclave, they would be in for quite the surprise. Another small force was dispatched to keep eyes in the Deeprun Tram, incase forces attempted to assist from Stormwind.




The strike was over far quicker than Mai’kull had anticipated. Just as his plans laid out, Moria fell first, followed by Felstad then Muradin. The Battalion stood in a moment of awe in the High Seat chambers as the bodies laid before them. They were not dead, but mortally wounded and in very bad shape. It would have been so easy to kill them, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything. A new Dwarven Council would be re-elected, and the cycle would continue. No…they would leave them alive, but just barley. To learn, To know their place…To FEAR the might of the Horde that would Overthrow the Council


Banners of the attending Guilds were strewn all over the Chamber, Horde Battleflags blocked the entrance doors, even some Soldiers posing amidst the chaos with their S.E.L.F.I.E Cameras. Once pleasantries were completed, the Battalion slipped back into the tunnel from which it came, escaping back to Stonard using their Magisters Portals, leaving devastation in their wake.


Time: 2045


The Battalion wasted no time readying the next strike. Adrenalin running through their veins, and the taste of fresh victory on their lips, they hungered to continue their conquest against the alliance. The next target was Darnassus. A warlock was already in place behind the Temple of the Moon. It was frankly the arrogance of the Kal’Dorei to not check their own backyard, for anyone who looked could have seen the force rising. A bit too eager, one half of the battalion began the initial assault into the temple, slaying the Nightelf sentries that stood in their way, and securing the portal zone within the temple. Another faction branched off, cutting a swath of destruction from the Temple of the Moon to the Temple Gardens, securing their exit.




They had engaged Tyrande and her companion pet Dori’Thur before the rest of the combatants had completed the Summoning Ritual. But the Might of the Horde sandwiched the Kal’Dorei Priestess atop her own landing, proving once and for all she was Immortal No More.




Once the stage was set for the arriving alliance to see the work they had done, the Battalion headed out into the Temple Gardens, utilizing the World Tree’s own transportation to bring them to Rut’theran Village. Clearing the meager port authorities was nothing as the Horde members waited patiently for the Ship that would lead them to Azuremyst Isle to arrive. Taking the ship, it took three port-calls to amass the Battalion at the base of the fallen Draenei Ship. This gave Mai’kull just the pace he needed to slow his warriors. Two targets down did not mean their job was done, and he did not need their heads to fill too quickly that mistakes would be made this close to the end.




Their patience tempered the minds of the Battalion, and The Exodar was struck with shocking precision. Spiraling down into the Vault of Lights The Raiding parties knew their jobs. The Guards were dispatched quickly, as a splinter group of members crossed the Vault and secured the portal zone. Velen’s Battle masters were pulled from their posts and dealt with leaving the Dreanei Prophet all to himself, and the Battalion wasted no time Putting out the Light of the already broken people.


Time: 2110




The Raiding Battalion regrouped in the Swamp of Sorrows Outpost one last time as they prepared to strike at their last Target…Stormwind City. Given the proximity of their target, some did not even wait for the Ritual of Summoning, but preferred to fly from Stonard to the Burning Steppes themselves, to wait on the adjacent mountain range behind Stormwind Keep.  Once everyone was in place, the command was given, and the Wrath of the Horde descended upon the Human Capital.


It was a two-pronged attack. Half of the Battalion flew in from the Courtyard, directly engaging the King and his forces in his own Throne room, while the second half entered from the Main Gate, clearing the Keep of any other guards who might get in the way. A small unit was dispatched to the Wizards Sanctum in the Magic Quarter to monitor traffic to and from their Portal Zone, but Mai’kull believed that to no longer be necessary. They wanted the Alliance to try and stop them…




So too did the Child-King fall to the might of the Horde; proving once and for all that he, just like his father was unable to prevent the Might of the Horde from Storming Stormwind. Yet this was not the end, the Horde’s Mightiest Warriors wanted to cement their dominance over the arrogant pink-skinned fools, so they set out, on foot, out of the keep into the city itself.





Anyone who got in their way was killed. They trampled through the Trade District slaughtering merchants and auctioneers, bankers and shop owners, leaving a burning scar of destruction in their path for any arriving Alliance to follow. Mai’kull could only revel in his success. Here he was, standing in the heart of the Alliance’s Power; He had no protective spells active, he sheathed his own blade, for at this moment Stormwind belonged to the Horde!




A Final Gathering was called at the steps of the human’s holeyest of places. Unimpeded, the Horde positioned themselves, raised their banners and smiled for the cameras, cheering on cadence of victory and valor that echoed through every corner of the city. The Mandate’s will was done, and peace for a time was brought to all four corners of the Alliance’s holdings. Mai’kull was no fool, he knew it would not last. The Humans, Dwarves, Kal’Dorei and Dreanei would re-group, heal their wounded leaders and secure their homelands once again. But it was the message delivered that was the true goal.


They did it…They won…And they could NOT be stopped. News of this would spread, angering the hippy alliance huggers within his own faction, but also sparking vigor in the hearts of those who thought it impossible. And that is who he would direct to the Grim Inquisition, to bring about a new wave of soldiers to fight for the mandate, their belief that peace can only be achieved through one way, and one way alone…. 



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A low growl rumbled in the worgen woman's throat as Katrynne heard the news.  A group of Horde, led by The Grim, had invaded the Alliance cities and slaughtered so many innocent people.  Her fingers wrapped tightly around the swords at her sides.

Those monsters!  All this time, she had been hunting the Grim, and now when they dare to invade the Alliance cities, she was too far away to do anything to fight them.    They had to be stopped.

Seething with barely controlled rage, she headed to Stormwind to pay a visit to General Larmont's office.

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There was unease among the warriors of the Skyhold. Whilst his form descended to the platform of Dalaran the Knight pondered the glares he had seen cast betwixt the various races that comprised the mortal warbands of the Valarjar. He had not seen such contempt since the warring reignited between the factions throughout Stormheim. He had been entrenched within the seemingly never ending conflict within Helheim for some days when not fending off roving groups of Kvaldir from the coasts of the Broken Isles.

He had been away for too long.

Something was amiss and the ripples of outrage echoed throughout the streets of Dalaran. From the landing Rorrek walked with a wary observance about his stern demeanor. He noted that the guard about the mouth of the Horde sanctuary had nearly doubled. The Kirin Tor was about in force upon the streets as if to dissuade any abrupt conflict from arising. The tension was not unlike the mistrust and hate which erupted after the tragedy upon the Broken Shore.

He hastened his pace to the Greyfang Enclave. There the warrior would find answers to fuel his rage.

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She’d been out of the city when the attack happened, instead spending the day in Dalaran with her husband and her children. She was considering temporarily relocating her office to her residence there; the small plot of land and accompanying living quarters had cost her far too much gold to now be sitting, unused, and gathering Fel-only-knew what kind of dust.


It was with a great pang of terror that they received the news, terror and brightly flaring anger, and while little Sophie was too young to understand the words, their son--who had been acting odd as of late to begin with, insisting on staying by her side day and night as much as he was allowed--seemed more defiant than afraid.


Her first instinct was to get her children to immediate safety and return to Stormwind to aid whatever lingered of the fight, but her husband--with a stern look born of fear and a large hand on her swelling belly--put a stop to that. Instead, when they received word that Stormwind was clear once more, the family hurried home. Her scouts reported that all Alliance leaders were accounted for; it seemed the Grim-led attacks had been strong and swift, their strikes landing before the alarms could be raised. The rogue wanted nothing more than to seek an outlet to her own anger, but she couldn’t--not yet. Her cousin met them at their residence on the outskirts of the city, both to take the children and help ascertain any damage that had gotten through the hefty wards surrounding the property; most of them were Ketani's own handiwork, and they seemed to have held fast.


“Zak’s going to go help start with the reconstruction efforts,” Katelle murmured to her cousin. “I'm headed to the infirmary to help patch up the wounded. I'll let you know when you can bring the kids back--”


“I'm NOT going.” Both women turned to look at the ten year old boy, eyebrows raised in an identical fashion. Even Zakarnas, conversing with one of his crewmen via radio a short distance away, turned to look at his normally quiet son.


“Excuse me?” Kate was shocked. Ketani’s lips curled up in a smirk that she tried to hide by turning away and coughing.


“I'm not going. I'm staying with you.” The rogue frowned.


“Marzano, this isn't up for debate.”


“You're right, Mom, it's not. I'm not going to Shattrath, I'm staying with you!” Katelle looked to her husband for support, but he only gave her a look that plainly said 'he learned this from you’ before going back to his discussion. She turned to Ketani next, but her cousin only shook her head. At a loss, the rogue turned back to her son with a warning frown.


“They'll put you to work helping me,” she stated calmly. “There are many wounded people, Marzano. Are you sure you want to witness that?” The red haired boy nodded.


“I'm not leaving you.” Katelle sighed.


“Okay. Change your clothes and let's go.”




It wasn't until several hours later that the rush of wounded began to slow to a trickle and the healers, nurses, and physicians told Katelle she could head home and rest. Marzano had been a dutiful assistant, not cringing once at some of the sights before him. He even knew what some of the instruments she needed were, and how to conduct some of the basic procedures she performed. When asked how he knew any of it, the boy just shrugged and said, “Aunt Brew said I’d need to know one day.” The rogue felt a rush of affection for the sweet dwarven priestess, but it was tempered with the rage that had simmered in her breast since they first learned of the attack. It was that rage that kept her fueled in the infirmary, and still kept her going even as she tugged her sleepy son along towards home.


Zak was still gone by the time Katelle finished helping Marzano wash up and put him to bed. Satisfied that the only other occupant of the house was fast asleep, the rogue allowed a low growl to come free from her throat as she padded downstairs to her study. Sharp and violent movements, not at all like the tender gestures that tended to patient and son alike, gave way to quick slices of words across the heavy parchment she used for official correspondence.


I played their politics. Now it’s time to play it my way.


“Councilors and Path Leaders of the Twilight Empire…”

Edited by Katelle
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When she found out, it was after the fighting concluded. Fiery rage burned in her chest as she attempted to keep battlerage at bay. She would be of no use to the recovery in Stormwind itself, not as she was now.

Cowards! She snarled to herself, Cowards! The lot of them. So much of the Stormwind Militia and Military had been deployed to the Broken Isle to fight the Legion. So many people, on both sides of the faction divide had died to keep the Legion from destroying all life on Azeroth and…

The Grim, how did it truly surprise her that such a depraved group of monsters could strike at them, slaughter civilians, strike at their leaders, did they not understand that there was a more important target in the Legion?

Of course not, they probably see the legion as their fel damned kin.

She still fought on the various warfronts, she felt they still needed defense from the small bands of Horde that did not honor the unofficial truce that existed while the fought the Legion. It seemed that she was correct in that thought, they could not leave their holdings undefended.

Could Lady Proudmoore be right? She had heard of Jaina Proudmoore’s heated words in the Throne Room after the disastrous fight on the Broken Shore that saw the death of King Varian Wrynn, that they couldn’t trust the Horde. That King Wrynn’s death was a result of the Horde abandoning them at a pivotal moment. Even now, as furious as she was, she could not think all Horde were a danger in the way Lady Proudmoore did. However, the Grim attack showed that there were still those in the Horde that would use the current fight with the Legion to strike at the Alliance.

The Grim and their Mandate were as much of a danger to Azeroth as the Legion was. An army that can’t trust each other is doomed to failure, how many people apply the Grim’s depravity to all of the Horde?

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Pralea Catori sat in Ledgermain Lounge, clutching a small draenei child close. Her adoptive daughter, Vyrnna, dozed in her lap, black hair spilled out over the blanket she was bundled in. Pralea had left her with Katelle before the incursion into the Broken Isles, to ensure that her little girl was safe above all else so she could go and make the world safe from the nightmares and devils that tried to burn their world to cinders. The whole of their existence hinged on their current fight. In her mind, it was inconceivable that someone could act so callously, so recklessly. There would always be little skirmishes between the Alliance and Horde, but for even her own troubles, she had been blessed enough to work alongside others who shared their goal of seeing Azeroth saved before continuing a petty, if not large scale, squabble.

It was enough to make her blood boil just thinking of the reports she had received, when she raced to ensure that Vyrnna had not been caught in the fray. It was the closest she had come to tears in weeks, hugging her little girl tight in her arms, unable to explain to her how or why the "bad people" did what they did. But she was safe, and for that, she thanked the Light.

Even thinking about it, dark wisps radiated off of her as her worgen state threatened to manifest off the inner blaze burning in her chest.

She would never have cited Dalaran as the safest place for the child until then, not flying over the outskirts of a battlefield like a damned target. With the siege on the Alliance strongholds, however, what more could she do? Nowhere was safe. Not from the Legion, not from the extremist fools belonging to their tenuous allies in the Horde. The world was mired in chaos and strife, and all Pralea could do for her little girl was be close to her. All she could do was reassure her that she would protect her, that nothing would harm her so long as she was around, and do her best to live up to that.

Looking past the wispy strands of her blonde bangs, toward her shield, propped against the couch she rested on, she hugged the raven-haired child a little closer.

Her shield would need more spikes for what was to come.

Edited by Pralea
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