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Chestius last won the day on July 20 2018

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  1. "Thank you... Kind soul...." Weakly hissed the freed spirit towards a small, snowy white Vulpera, who quickly stepped back into the crowd of Night Fae coming to greet the new spirits in their realm. Ghasty's lantern released the souls of numerous beings, their spirits forming into the visage of many Night Elves, Vulpera, And others. Freshly released into Ardenweald's care, the souls were more than desperate to finally be free of the Maw's grasp. Ardenweald had been clever to employ the efforts of the Soulthief, as denizens of the Maw quickly titled Ghasty for his... efficient way of navigating through high security areas undetected, stealing away soul after soul. His goal had been the same since he arrived; Steal as many souls from the Maw as possible, and he worked tirelessly towards it. A task many deemed impossible before the arrival of mortals in the Shadowlands was now in the tiny capable hands of one of the Night Fae's newest reinforcement, and as the fae greeted their new souls, few could even see the tiny rogue amidst the crowd. The ghostly look of Ghasty was still unmarred by even the Maw. His purple eyes looked something between tired and blank, giving off a cold calm expression. His fur, pristine as it was, practically glowed in the fae lights of the Heart of the Forest, the spots of inky blank dotting his shoulders, ears, and the base of his tail, which gently swayed from side to side. His enchanted gi was damaged, along with his plated armor pads, and yet he appeared uninjured still. Spikes broken on the knuckler gloves he wore, he had obviously been in the Maw for some time, and as such, stolen away many souls amidst his battles. He looked around, seeing the fae denizens of the Forest cheering at the flood of new souls, and knew the Winter Queen would be happy to hear of the innocents brought in. But Ghasty wasn't the type to search for thank you's. He attained his results, and after the souls were secured, he vanished from sight, leaving the pleasant heart to their revelry. It was time for Rest and Recreation, now. Ghasty knew this. Cleaning, rehydrating and eating enough to maintain his proper form, and most of all; Resting. For many, that meant sleep, but for Ghasty, it meant what it meant. Ardenweald had many peaceful havens yet, and the conservatory that Ghasty strode through was high up in the branches of one of the great trees. He knew he was safe here, however it did not change his methods. Alone, he would always keep his guard up, and not even the beautiful skies of Ardenweald could grant the security he needed to relax as others would. In his time, in and out of the servitude he was raised in, Ghasty knew little of sleep itself, as such things were rare. On his own, he could rest enough to recover and rejuvenate his energy... But strangely enough, he didn't 'sleep' per say.. For Ghasty, sleep was a luxury he simply could not afford. As he finished drying off after a much needed bath, it was time to maintenance his equipment. Starting with his weapons; energy as they were, they needed no sharpening, but rather mana. Ghasty used such to fortify the catalyst crystals he used, strengthening them once more, and discarding unneeded emotions to feed the shadow energy within. His element was a curious one. Ghasty was highly adept at the use of Shadow Magic, but had little magical knowledge. To him, these abilities were always like a limb of the body, simply there for his use. The lack of void and whispers also proved to be an anomaly, however it was one that allowed Ghasty to make his previous exploits against the forces of N'zoth, and before; the Drust. Despite the lack of written knowledge, Ghasty's abilities came naturally to him, and many more were linked with reflexes. It was almost like a symbiotic relationship; he fed his shadow energy with the mana of his hunted targets, and in turn his shadows aided him, hiding him from sight, and giving him the weaponry to dispatch enemies that pursued him still. As he tinkered away at his gear next, his thoughts began to wander. 'This path... Did I make the right choice?', the thought popped into his head, causing the tiny Vulpera to stop his work. It was a random thought, but one that resonated with him.. a valid question, considering the choices many made upon the Covenants requesting mortal aid. Ghasty looked up to the ever beautiful night sky, and wondered. 'You left servitude for yourself, and decided to associate with others rather than hide, amassing reputations and comrades... There have been many trials, and with them great pain... You have fought and killed when needed, and avoided it when possible. This lead you to the Shadowlands and secured numerous souls tearing them away from torment... The Maw ill allows for intruders, after all. And those who do venture through it face constant battles and death. However, unlike them, you have the ability to accomplish this task with greater efficiency. You kill quickly, recover souls, and escape... This is the best fulfillment of your skills... This path is sufficient, as it aims to improve the world around.' Ghasty reasoned, and answered the existential question silently. 'Do you enjoy it?' came another interrupting thought. The knee jerk response came up as quickly as the question, as Ghasty perked up silently while his mind barked in reply 'Of course not. Killing is neither fun nor is it enjoyable by its nature alone. Combat is an equation in war, with death as its biproduct. However, the solution brought many innocent souls from the Maw to their true place in the realms of death. 'Do you feel whole?' came again a pesky thought, the Vulpera shaking his head. 'Irrelevant. I have fulfilled my tasks... A vague feeling like self-fulfillment does not improve or multiply results.' His heart replied, coldly... His silent duel with his own mind only lasted a few seconds, in which time, the Vulpera looked over his gear, assessing the damage. As he shut down the questions, his mind quelled, thoughts refocusing on his tasks. For hours, Ghasty tinkered away, bringing his humble armor back to perfect condition. Despite its humble appearance, his gear was highly engineered, a skill he was taught by his adoptive father. It took some time, but eventually he managed to repair the inner workings of his gadgets, as well as the state of the armor that covered them. Seeing his task complete, Ghasty moved onto the next. 'Sleep'. For the few who saw him regularly, Ghasty appeared to sleep very often. Before he left for the Shadowlands, it was a common occurrence in Silvermoon for denizens to encounter Ghasty sleeping on a tavern sofa, some even complimenting the beautiful coat of fur he had upon him.. but few recognized Ghasty's slumber for what it was; an Act... A simulation... A ruse to lure others into a sense of comfort, using his small stature and harmless appearance to request a reprieve from the combat he often found himself drowning in. As he laid down within the small camp he had set up, Ghasty looked the part of a sleepy Vulpera. His tail coiled around his body, covering him in ghostly whites fur and a comforting warmth. His ears relaxed, and his eyes closed, but even as hours passed, Ghasty didn't sleep. Or rather, he couldn't sleep. He was alone here, and as such the only one for watch, a task that must always be completed... Sleep was a luxury, and something Ghasty didn't need like many other races. His body would slow as he laid down, bringing rest like sleep would, but without dreams or a state of vulnerability. So, there he laid, motionless and cloaked with a thin layer of his magic, concealing him from sight, even within his own tent.. All was silent, all was still, and a hard fought peace was earned... But for Ghasty, there was no upheaval of joy or excitement. He did not wish to read, practice the instrument he was given, or socialize, as all required action and effort. He simply laid there in his tent, invisible to the world, entirely alone.. 'Are you happy?' came a whisper, this one outside of the pesky heart that questioned him before. An unfamiliar voice whispering from seemingly nowhere, a tactic Ghasty often used to corner prey. Ghasty's eyes to shot open. Though the grove remained silent, something was strange. Vying to sense whatever spoke, the invisible Vulpera moved from his tent, beginning to stalk the conservatory. The high alert he set upon was silent, focused, lethal... But as Ghasty searched the conservatory for signs of infiltration, he found nil. 'Is this what makes you happy?' came another whisper. Without a word or even a visible body to examine, Ghasty had gone from rest mode to work mode. He focused, listening intently, sensing what he could, waiting to strike... 'What makes you happy?' came another whisper, and with it, Ghasty drew his weaponry and whipped around, his senses finally picking something up... His soulkeeper... Producing the magical lantern and activating it, a small soul left it, landing on the beautiful flora that decorated the haven grounds. It was a elven woman, her form knelt down into a sitting state, a hint of worry on her face. She had been rescued, but did not leave with the other souls.. instead, as her form revealed itself, she tilted her head, looking around for the unseen Ghasty. '...I am no threat... I only ask..' she announced in a tone that sounded sleepy, and gloomy. "Identify yourself. Why did you ask such things?" Ghasty blankly interrogated, his shadowy voice sounding grim and unnaturally multi-toned. He was still invisible to his target, who showed no way of tracking him. He assessed her from a distance, ready to react as needed. The Elf sighed and folded her hands upon her thighs, showing she had nothing to hide. "I am sorry... Little one... I did not mean to startle you... I was... Worried..." She announced. Her form was spectral, but she had long, beautiful hair, and a fair figure. She looked shorter, and less muscular than some night elves did. As she explained herself, she did not move from her spot. She simply waited for an answer. After an awkward silence, the ghostly form of Ghasty appeared before her upon silent footfalls. "You were being tortured for an unknown time in the Maw. Your soul has been tormented greatly. Why did you choose to stay within the soulkeeper when you were released?" Ghasty asked, his blank tone coming off almost demanding as he approached. In one hand, a small crystal hilt with a barely visible spectral blade protruding from it. The other held an orbit of dark, glass-like stone, charged with shadow energy. He was still on alert, and the elf picked up on it. "Please... I mean no harm, little one... I ask, because the one who rescued me appeared troubled..." She calmly pleaded. Her voice was soft, gentle as she looked. Taking no time for another interrogation from the Vulpera, she asked her question once more. "You, who spent much time within the same torment as I... You return to it time and time again, repeating the task of taking others away from it... Does that make you happy?" "Irrelevant. Those souls, yours included were improperly sorted, causing you torment you did not earn. My happiness is not a concern in comparison to emergency rescue operations." Ghasty answered, only to see the night elf sigh. "I was tormented, until you took me away from it.. I wished to thank you, but have nothing I could give... So I remained with you, rather than passing on, hoping I could find a way to repay you.. But... You have done the same thing over and over again... You follow a pattern, almost like you were possessed... It did not seem natural, so I worried.." she explained. Ghasty slowly but surely approached the night elf as she spoke. His weapons leaving his hands to float in orbit around him, he listened as she explained herself. "They call you Soulthief in the Maw. You are targeted frequently, and each battle is more lethal than the last.. so many times I worried you would be overwhelmed by it. But you keep fighting, you keep moving, and no matter how dark everything has gotten, you've shown no change in your face... Truth be told, I simply cannot read you..." She confessed. "I was trained early to fight and protect others. My abilities compliment my profession and increase efficiency above the normal rate. By such standards, I am most effective at my current appointed task, and continuing it brings more souls to rest. I am simply performing my duty at optimal levels." Ghasty explained, and the wordiness of it caused the night elf spirit to grimace. "But... Are you happy?" She asked once more. "Irrelevant. I am efficient, and combat capable, and hold better capacities for re-appropriating souls than many others of my caliber. Performing my duties---" Ghasty started before he was interrupted by the night elf. "-You speak like gnomish machinery, little one... But you do not need to feel like such. You haven't slept, you rarely eat, you haven't stayed with anyone, or gotten close to others of your kind... You've simply been taking souls away from the Maw and disappearing before anyone could thank you.. Your face tells so little, I worry that you merely try to fulfill yourself with a list of tasks you checked off, and nothing more..." She explained. Ghasty tilted his head. Was she.... Complaining about his task of rescuing souls? "There are many souls trapped within the Maw that have no place there. If left there, obliteration is unavoidable, and the soul is lost. Priority one dictates that I remove souls from that cycle... Is that problematic?" He asked, noting a sense of annoyance from the elf, who sighed again in response. "Your duty is not problematic to me, or anyone else you rescued, little one.. However I worry that you do not take enough care of yourself... At first, I thought your Horde allegiance to be the reason. But you are not filled with the zeal or fanatical dedication that I have seen within their kind... So, I will ask you. What makes you happy, little one?" She asked once more, this time finally causing Ghasty to stop and think. "I do not feel enjoyment from combat... I feel... successful when I take souls from the Maw. It... Feels... Like the correct use for my abilities... So I continue.." Ghasty explained, pausing frequently as he pieced the words together. All the talk of feeling was exhausting for him, but this answer appeared to sate the hungering question from the elf. Slowly, she stood, looking around the conservatory before strolling to a dormant wildseed. Looking back to Ghasty "You, who have no home dedicate your life to saving souls you will never see... All because it is the right thing to do, you say.... Had I met Horde of your like, perhaps I would not have loathed your kind as much as I did in life..." She started. "It is time for me to go... But I ask one thing of you, little one... Please... Find peace, and happiness within your life. That is my wish..." She said before a flash of light overtook her form. After a brief moment, she was gone, leaving a faintly glowing wildseed upon the ground. As Ghasty approached, he pondered her words... Placing a hand on the wildseed, he spoke once more. "I will continue my duties as selected... The task of a Soulthief fits my skillset optimally... After all... There were many on Azeroth who were killed in atrocious ways... For both your kind, as well as my own... I wish to find them... all of them... and tear them from that fate..." He replied, his cold tone showing broken pieces of relief... And so, silence returned to both the conservatory, as well as Ghasty... His stay was short, as usual... But resulted in a more fulfilled feeling of rest...
  2. Location: A small transport vessel just off shore of Stormwind’s Docks. Time of day: Early Afternoon The early afternoon bid farewell to a small mooring incident in Stormwind’s docks. A transport ship now sat anchored awkwardly away from the dock itself, accosted by rowboats for the Stormwind Guard. "I swear it's true! I saw it wit me own eyes!" A ragged Victim of a man howled as he was throttled by a guard. The angered man in lighter armor was only made more agitated by the crying of the lowlife he was holding up against the bulkhead. "Listen here, dock rat! Three of my best men were killed by this creature, and you mean to tell me that we amidst the Stormwind Guard should just let it go on your account?!" The guard shouted back, tossing the panicked man back and drawing his blade, only to be stopped as more guardsmen approached. "Stand down! This man is a victim, not the culprit, Lieutenant!" Barked an older man, forcing the angered guardsman to heel. A veteran guard captain stepped forward. Accompanying him, a rather vicious looking worgen. The Captain was a human, and on in the years with a head of sheet white hair, matching his full beard. He approached the cowering man and knelt before him. "Your word checks out, son. We searched the ship, and found the remains of a Prisoner Trafficking Operation... However, we didn't find a sign of life beyond any of you in the brig. Our tracker here says there's the scent of many people, but no trail leading out of the boat.. Tell me, what happened to your captors?" The older guard gently commanded. The panicked man calmed some, the words of the collected veteran putting his mind away from panic. However, fear still very much addled him, along with an ominous energy that set in his mind before rescuers arrived... "There was... Somethin.. on the ship. Most o' us in chains were stuck below decks... But I was workin, cleanin the upper decks I was... They said we was jus' stopping 'ere fer a quick resupply b'fore we sailed south.. err I think that's what the cap'n was sayin." The man stammered and shook as he spoke, flinching when the Captain questioned him. "And your relation to the crew here? If these men were selling prisoners as slaves, why did you have it so easy?" The Captain asked. The man stopped moving for a moment, looking up at the veteran guard for a few moments before speaking again. "....I... I'm a brewer... Sir... Was doin time in Tol'Dagor fer some trouble me business ran inte.... But when I was to be transferred te Stormwind fer re-trial, these dastards picked me out an' told me I was workin fer them cleanin decks and brewin booze... I reckon they'd have killed me if I refused... So I... I worked..." The man explained, recalling his role onboard a small vessel in the harbor. However his tone grew shaky, fearful, panicked... The Captain studied the man's reaction, and spoke up, trying to keep the fearful Victim focused. "I’m not here to send you to the stockades, lad. I want to know where the rest of the crew here went. Tell me, what happened?" He gently commanded once more. "I was cleanin' the decks. They had one of those dastards watchin me around the cages... He told me the go up a deck and refill his tankard, so I started walkin.. but... But when I approached the galley... Somethin was off.... The galley be empty... An' I found nutin but clothes strewn 'bout it... I was bout te tap the keg when me body stopped movin... It was....cold... So cold... B'fore I knew it, I was on the ground.... Somethin was lookin at me... It asked me questions..." The man explained as his tone once more returned to shaking. He pulled himself into a ball, eyes wide with tears as his words and tone once more embraced fear. "It asked me what the crew looked like compared to prisoners... I told um, we slaves was all wearin' the same shackles.... Oh Light... Im the reason they're all dead... I--" He began to stammer before the Captain interrupted him. "Focus. What was asking you this? What was this creature?" The Captain asked, trying to redirect the man's focus from the increasingly tense atmosphere amidst the other guards. "It... It was small... Real small... Bout the size o' a dog… looked like one too... But standin up... It was dark...fluffy, wit big ears... Red eyes.... No... They was purple... I think..." He began once more before cowering at the interruption. "Well what was it?! Captain, this dastard's not making any sense! I say we throw um into the stockades and properly interro--" the Lieutenant began before he found himself grappled and thrown into the bulkhead, held tightly by the throat. The Captain's eyes glared into his, silence overtaking the moment before he spoke. "Stand. Down. Lieutenant. One more outburst, and the only one getting softened up in the stockades will be you... Understand?" The Captain growled. A subtle nod was all he received as confirmation, but it was enough to release the foolish guard, who quickly fell back into ranks. "It was a Vulpera..." Came the gravelly voice of the worgen tracker. While questions were being asked, he continuously sniffed the air, looking around the empty ship. "The scent is hidden expertly... But with that description I'm almost certain." He added, before his and the Captain's gaze returned to the cowering man. "What did this creature do after you answered it?" The Captain once more requested. "It told me te stay down. So I did... But.. when the guard came up the stairs te yell at me fer takin too long, I saw it... I saw what it did..." The man started before breaking down into a panic. Rocking back and forth, his eyes were washed over with fear, almost unnaturally so... "It leapt outta the man's shadow.. an’ b'fore he could do a thing he was dead.... And then.... He.. turned te dust.. they all did.. everyone attached to the crew was killed one by one... An' all I could do was watch.." the man pressed his nerves to finish an explanation, but broke down in the end, sobbing and sniffling. The tracker looked about as annoyed as the rest of the guards dealing with this witness... But the Captain continued studying the man. They were absolutely cowering, as if afflicted by a spell... "Fetch a priest." The Captain commanded. "We got no word of any Vulpera on this ship, and no other victims say they saw anything like this." He added. "What would a priest be able to do?" Asked one of the younger guardsmen. "His fear. It's unnatural. We need someone capable of detecting magic, and I'll bet fifty gold we're dealing with one type in particular.." the Captain answered. The years in service granted him no glorious exploits, or powers to behold, however it did grant knowledge of what magic was often used for. Each element had their signs. The elements were the most obvious, however some were more subtle... And atop the list of magics he disliked dealing with sat Shadow. Fear, doubt, confusion, it all fit. The man had been cursed with panic, but not killed outright... "But what of the guards?! My men personally patrolled the docks and searched this ship!" The Lieutenant once more piped up. The rest of the guards readied for the Captain to fulfill his promise of throttling the man, however it wouldn't come. "Idunno! I swear idunno!! I passed out after i saw it dust the crew and woke up wit swords te me neck!" The man panicked. "Tracker. How many guardsmen patrolled this ship?" The Captain asked. "Three of them. Their armors were found in the captain's quarters along with the remains of the crew's leadership. No signs of combat." The Tracker replied. The Lieutenant stopped as he received a blunt look from the Captain, who stood between him and the victim, a hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "Lieutenant.. How do we conduct our ship searches here in the docks?" The Captain asked pointedly. "P-parties of five. Unless undermanned, as we are now. I was confident a party of three could handle a small trade ship search." The Lieutenant replied. "Ah yes. But it would appear the ship was searched before it made it to the dock… There were no signs of conflict, leaving your men dead in the room with this ship’s captain..." The Captain asked once more. “What are you insinuating?” The Lieutenant hissed in reply. Glaring back at the Captain in turn. The room went tense, the Lieutenant went silent, as he and the Captain glared each other down. Tracker, as he was called stepped back before getting addressed once more. "Tracker. You searched the remains for evidence. Tell me.. What did you find on the bodies of Stormwind's Finest in the captain's quarters?" The Captain asked once more, his gaze locked on the now on edge Lieutenant... "Each guard had their coinpurse and belongings, but also a satchel with five hundred gold pieces, Captain." The Tracker replied once more. And with that, the Captain drew his blade. "Care to tell me what your squad was doing with their holiday bonus so early, Lieutenant?" The Captain asked as he drew his blade, moving towards the Lieutenant, however his footfalls fell short, his blade turned heavy, along with his shield. Where there was strength, a moment later it began to melt away... The Tracker appeared affected as well, and the scene of the Captain falling to a knee sent the remaining guards into alert! Drawing swords and hammers, they turned to the Lieutenant, who by now had merely raised a hand to his Captain... "You arrived so quickly, Captain, I had no time to prepare a villain for you... If any of you want your Captain leaving this ship you'll do as I say! Drop your weapons, and leave!" The Lieutenant commanded as a wisp of energy flashed around his raised hand. A faint link of energy bound the Captain's weakened body to his... Fel magic... That one was second on the list of awful magic to deal with.. the guard Captain's strength was sapped, and he was unable to even raise a hand against the revealed crook before him. All he could do was shoot an aged glare. The remaining guards hesitated, however released their weapons and backed away. The room was cleared for now... Aside from the cowering brewer, hostage guard Captain, and the Tracker, who by this time was also down to a knee. "You too! Get out of here, worgen!" The Lieutenant commanded, still sapping the strength from his former Captain.. however, the Tracker gave no reply.. "I SAID MOVE! HEY!" He shouted, taking a step towards the worgen. A thud was heard as the Tracker hit the floor.. His lack of response was not defiance, but rather exhaustion... Something else had afflicted them, harmlessly knocking out the hardened Tracker. The look of surprise in the Lieutenant's eyes was enough for the Captain to realize the gravity of their situation. He struggled to remain upright, staring up at the warlock's confusion as the Tracker fell. He obviously had no idea of what was happening. Pushing himself, the Captain spared a look back at the Victim to find him sprawled out on the ground, breathing, but unconscious, just like the Tracker. Both of his worst dealings were here, within the same ship. However the Lieutenant had no realization of this.. He barked at the Tracker to get up, then at the Victim, then turned his gaze back to the Captain.. "What is the meaning of this?! Tell me now!" He commanded, gripping his hand, sending a pulse of pain into the Captain's body. The agony nearly made the veteran faint, however, he held his defiant gaze on the corrupted guard. Even if he explained what was happening, there was ill enough time to stop it… It was already here when they arrived… It was what killed the guards, the crew, and everyone attached to a criminal ring… It left calling card, granting innocents the mercy of sleep, but death to those it hunted… This creature was here, in the room, and had been working the entire time to close in on its prey… Looking back, the signs were obvious... the Lieutenant’s shadow had thickened as he approached the worgen. Little by little, the air began to chill as he held the Captain prisoner. By the time he commanded everyone off the deck, a sense of dread had kicked in, and even the guardsmen rookies had been affected. They were likely upstairs either dead or unconscious as the Tracker and the Victim were now... As the Lieutenant reached for the Captain's throat, realization finally hit him.. He stopped, his focus breaking, the spell fading from the Captain as the warlock began to look around. The room was... darker... Light from the windows faded, and at this point candlelight was becoming more of a necessity... The Lieutenant whipped his eyes around as he stepped away from the Captain. He opened his mouth to speak. "What is--" was all he could manage before he was cut off by the entity haunting the room... It was instantaneous... As the corrupt guard opened his mouth to speak, from his swelled shadow burst a small, blackened creature! Like an animal lunging at prey, the visage of a wolf-like creature collided with the Lieutenant’s upper torso, enveloping him in a blackened aura from the shoulders up! Not a sound was heard from the strike as the visage hit and passed through the Lieutenant, fading away after a moment to reveal the damage! A clean cut, starting from just under his right shoulder, all the way across to the top of his left collarbone. A blackened mist wafted from the wound before the Lieutenant’s body split, and began to fall in two pieces. Skin turned black as a pulse of shadow energy wreaked havoc across his body! As he toppled over in sections, flesh and bone would waste away into a blackened ash which littered the air only for a moment before disappearing! The sound of the Lieutenant’s armor hitting the deck was all the was heard after the strike... The Captain coughed up a small amount of blood, holding himself upright as his eyes desperately scanned the room.. There, just behind where the traitorous warlock stood before his swift demise, was a Vulpera cloaked in shadows. The shadow-enveloped image of the small creature stared into the Captain's eyes as silence once more commanded the room. "...Targets...Eliminated..." Came a darkened, multi-toned voice, seemingly from multiple directions. Though ears would deceive him, the Captain knew what this was... as he fell to his side, the veteran guard Captain breathed shakily, now stuck in the room with his eyes locked in the gaze of the very predator that eliminated an entire gang of traitors and thieves... Him and the Tracker could easily have been next... But as light began to return to the deck, the Captain's eyes grew heavy.. he needed to blink... Just once... However as his eyes tried to reopen... They failed to muster the strength... and like that, the Captain fell to the deck, unconscious, granted the mercy of sleep he feared would be denied... "Quickly! There's survivors on this deck!!! Where's the Priest?! Get him in here, now!" Panic burst forward as the rookie guardsmen were the first to awaken. Their last clear memories being of the guard captain telling them to fetch a priest before questioning the Leuitenant, who was nowhere to be found. A high alert platoon of rookie guardsmen re-entered the ship with weapons drawn to find a set of armor, cut clear across the upper torso, and an unconscious trio. The Tracker, the Captain, and the Victim were brought to the ward immediately, unharmed, but unable to wake for some time. The Haunt that evaded their eyes was a professional assassin for certain, but much else of any detailed information gained by the stalwart Captain was lost amidst his sleep. Whatever snuck onboard that ship was hunting the very rats that infested the docks, fortunately enough for the rest, their interference was forgiven. The Tracker appeared to be the most befuddled, only remembering searching the ship before blacking out. "Your report, Captain. You claim you saw a Vulpera before you lost consciousness. Did you see any Horde insignia by chance?" Asked one Major to the recovering Captain. "None.. I was only awake long enough to see it strike my former Lieutenant down." The Captain replied. "Even after the Legion's defeat, fel is still a nasty problem." The Major replied, sighing as he sat at the bed the Captain lay in. "I fear for it." The Captain answered. "For what?" The Major asked, slightly confused by the sudden empathy. "That Vulpera waited under the noses of Stormwind's Guards, a veteran tracker, a crew of thieves and slavers, and a platoon of my finest recruits. By the time any of us realized, it was far too late... I fear for whatever it's hunting... But for now... I'm just glad it wasn't me or any of my loyal men this day..." The Captain answered, his tone chilled still from the incident. The Major sighed, nodded, and patted the bed. "Considering those harmed were all proven to be in allegiance with a group of criminals, we can rule that this was no attack from the Horde on our city.. however many will have questions." The Major replied. "Send them to me, then. I am certain whatever this creature was, its only crime was acting out as a vigilante." The Captain replied. "You're gonna need a big vacation after everyone else is done with you." The Major half joked, before the Captain answered him. "I plan to take one.."
  3. Bloodbath Setting: Soon after the Burning of Teldrassil Area: Small island off of Darkshore Time: Evening Chestius was restless. Tired after his last job, but the menders saw to immediate injuries, allowing him to be up and about for the next contractual form of self punishment.. A contract back at Darkshore, a place that the goblin privateer now wished to steer far away from, had Professor Skorm calling specifically for him.. The Ethereal had a way with premonitions, and this was one he claimed to be ‘haunting’… Haunting, that was a good word for the feeling of taking flight in the smoggy skies with the massive charred skeleton of failure looming to the northern horizon… He had no idea what would happen amongst the thorns, but not even in the goblin’s six decades of life would he have imagined that this was Sylvanas’ plan all along… It was… Failure.. Pure failure.. There was nothing left now but vengeance and war, given an updraft from greed and fear.. The questions still loomed, even on his mind, and each time his gaze shifted back to the husk of Teldrassil, Chestius felt as though his heart was breaking all over again.. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way… Military occupation would have WORKED. It would have caused a standstill, a ceasefire, allowed for peace talks with the Alliance having full knowledge that the Horde was not to be conquered and converted… Maybe the Banshee Queen saw that, and deemed it outside of her own plans. Her dying people, her own fading light, and the drifting away from her ties to the living. Maybe amidst the chaos of the war she sparked, Sylvanas cooked up another plan… The goblin shook his head at the thought of what this could possibly mean. After what was done to Teldrassil, no one was sure who to trust anymore. Everything was just… Broken… The static of the Etherstone breaking up Chestius’ train of thought on the grim topic. The engineering console of the jet mounted gyrocopter lit up as the transmission patched through into the headphones Chestius wore. Hearing protection AND guaranteed communications at all times was a must, and the static brought the hunter back from his grief to the mission ahead. “Captain, sir, you are nearing the drop point. I will begin preparations for manual override, so please, in the meantime prepare for your drop.” came a raspy, yet pious voice. It belonged to none other than Professor Skorm, working ethereal assistant and one hell of a butler. The flashes of the console signified the overtaking of the controls, and Chestius eased off the wheel in order to begin preparing. First tightening the small pack on his back, then next fastening a series of zippers on his own armor. The sounds of his preparations were drowned out by the whirring and roar of the jets and engine. Regardless, Chestius prepared like any other mission he would, getting ready to drop in by a glider and take out the target. “Tell me Skorm… If this mission is a simple assassination and rescue, why didn’t we send a fleet?” Chestius asked as his eyes drifted below. He was well above it all, hidden between the clouds and patches of smoke. But below, questions began to answer himself as his assistant spoke up. Before Chestius could belay his last, he found himself amidst a briefing. “Precisely, Captain. There is a squadron of deathguards who have failed to respond for some time now. The island ahead, while rich with Azerite, was besieged by Alliance. Going by ship is impossible. And with our forces spread thin, only your machines would be able to make it through the skies in these conditions. The Alliance ships you will see below have circled the island, but many stay anchored off shore, refusing to land. We have little information as to what is going on.” Skorm replied. The destination was still a ways away, but as he donned his goggles, Chestius was able to clearly see them. A small fleet was parked outside of this little no name island! No less than six ships lay in the waters, while a seventh was wrecked upon the shore alongside a forsaken frigate. The movements were wrong. The squad sent to this island from the Horde was likely no more than a skeleton crew for the frigate they used as transport, likely here to snatch and grab Azerite… But what could be holding the Alliance off of the island? Seven ships total meant literal boatloads of soldiers, waiting to fight.. And yet they sat off shore, not even close enough to send a rowboat. Strange. “Skorm. Any intercepted comms from the Alliance here? There’s too many for this job to be a search and rescue. Somethin’s up.” Chestius replied, only to hear the ethereal reply fast, meaning he was waiting for the question to be asked… “Yes Captain. We haven’t been able to scrape much due to their methods, but it appears there is some sort of beast hiding out on the island. I’ll patch in a recording we managed to intercept.” Skorm replied before the kzzzzzt of the radio turned to the sounds of many people shouting, gunfire, and some sort of rumbling. They were speaking Thalassian, and the recording was heavily damaged, but Chestius was able to listen in. “Not alo-…. Horde…-ll been killed…-their own… Blood!… It-…..-blood! Sta-….. I repeat-….- away!” The voice of the night elf was desperate, and while ferociously chopped up, it gave out some vital information. Something was indeed on the island, and a threat to all of the survivors of this fight. Chestius’ thinking was however interrupted by the lurching of his gyrocopter, suddenly beginning to drop altitude as it neared the bailout point. The goblin swallowed hard and began final preparations. “Alright, search and rescue mission engaging. Mission title: Bloodbath, commencing in 90 seconds. Skorm, stay on my comms and cam and keep the gyro in rotation. Get a lock on my location and prepare a transmat, if our cargo is dead this will be nothing more than an in and out. Chestius on standby for countdown, over.” Chestius stated, flipping a few switches and easing up a bit. He was obviously getting himself ready internally, which was a process very few bore witness too. After so many years, one of his few forms of excitement left was the jump from a plane. The leap into a freefall was something he both loathed and adored. As he looked down, seconds ticking by, he looked to the island now setting below. His gyrocopter was coming into range as he scanned the treeline of the densely forested little island. Lights showing locations of azerite could be seen through the dense canopy, but little else would show to the carefully scanning eyes of the hunter, swiftly descending upon its prey. A flash of red flickered far into the center of the island, due south of a decent rocky spire that stretched above the little island, looking like a witch’s hat almost. The flash was there for but a second, but something immediately clicked in the goblin’s mind. A bad feeling set in almost instantly, but for something not yet recognized by his troubled mind. “Barrage incoming. Brace for shock, Captain.” came the calm voice of Skorm a fractured moment before the sound of thundering guns wracked the airspace! Chestius gripped the gyrocopter as it immediately spun and dipped, rolling to avoid cannonfire from some of the ships now not too far below. It was time, and the deployment was going to be a hot one… “Prepare to drop in 10, 9, 8, 7, ...egh Impact Sir!” Skorm spoke calmly before breaking from his calm pattern to send a warning! From the middle of the island, near where Chestius had his eye on, a large boulder broke from the treeline and launched towards the gyrocopter! By time the goblin could react, it was already a split second from impact! Kaboom! A bright orange blast lit up the sky as the rock made a direct hit on the gyrocopter! Chestius was able to just barely throw himself back before contact, the blast thrusting him to wildly spin and thrash through the air into a tumbling fall from his freshly wrecked transport! He growled as he struggled to regain composure, waiting to open his wings for the right moment! A flapping sound strained against the sounds of cannonfire and howling from below signaled that the goblin’s glider suit had activated properly, and to onlookers Chestius managed to disappear into the explosion. But the goblin took to a direction with a spirited dive, the strongly woven fabric attached to his armor secured like webbing between his arms and legs, forming a pair of batlike wings. He wouldn’t be able to fly with these, but as he dove downwards, they made a world of difference, allowing him to gratuitously slow his descent and glide swiftly through the air like a bird descending silently towards its nest… Taking aim to the southern side of the island near the beachhead where the two wrecked ships lay. The fresh night was now a desperately needed shield as the goblin made his descent over the water winding towards the beach. While his gyrocopter had jets and multiple lights to make it stand out, Chestius was entirely suited for his best defense; stealth. With all that was happening, activating a light cloaking device allowed the goblin to vanish entirely from view at the distance he flew, landing silently with a dive in the tide after breaking his fall multiple times by drawing back with his glider suit to save on impact. Crawling from the water up to the shore, the hunter whispered into his reciever. “Skorm. Report. What the fel was that?” “A… A boulder, Captain. I barely saw it, it didn’t appear to be launched from a catapult, nor was it fired… It was… just hurled at your transport… Which I am afraid lay in ruins now.” Replied Professor Skorm, seemingly dumbfounded at first. “I’m aware of the copter. Tap into my location and prepare a gate rather than a transmat, I’m moving on target alpha and beta. The wreckage may be occupied. Ask Koopa to be on standby… We got more of a problem than Alliance here.. Hear that howling?” Chestius replied almost silently as he lay out flat amongst a patch of brush just off the sands of the beach. Hundreds of feet ahead lay the Alliance ship, and on the far side, the Horde’s. As the goblin whispered, he drew and matched a pair of binoculars to his goggles, zooming his sights in on the wreckage and beginning a scan. “It sounded… pained… I’ll begin sorting through data to try and match source. For now, keep your head down and recon. I will report to you after you reach a haven.” Skorm replied, seemingly inquisitive. “Aye aye, Chestius going dark. Heed all commands forward as battle comms, codeword: Father.” Chestius replied before pushing the reciever back to the side of his headpiece. The wreckage was occupied. There were several night elves still moving about it. They had taken shelter within the broken keel of their boat to protect from the elements. No fires, no smoke. They merely huddled and waited.. They weren’t attempting to be rescued? If the Horde was still about, prioritizing escape would be wise with 6 other ships offshore… Giving away their location wouldn’t be a risk… Unless… The air had been stilling from the gunfire and crash. The ambush upon Chestius’ vessel came to an end as the goblin crawled up on the beach, and as he lay prone in the brush, scouting his target an eerie silence overtook the coming night. Howling! No, a single roar broke the freshly birthed peace of darkness, turning it to suspense and fear! Describing it was hard… Whatever it was, it was big, furious, and close… Chestius’ hair stood on end as the howling neared. If it wasn’t already sheet white from his falsified age, he’d be losing color as the feeling that had crept into his spine prior to the impact returned full force. It churned into a dreaded gut feeling. Something was very, very wrong… Even the shipwrecked elves felt it, now covering themselves in sand, huddling amidst the shadows of their former boat.. Burying oneself was used for few reasons… either to hide the sounds of armor as enemies drew near…. Or to hide scent… Chestius vanished, his body fading into shadows as he dropped his goggles and began to silently scurry through the grass! The icy feeling finally came to his mind’s eye and reared its ugly head for praise… It was the feeling of being hunted… No sooner than seconds after his disappearing act, the goblin felt it. The rumble of something taking step by step towards the beach. He crawled and scratched his way no less than fifty feet from his position, driven almost entirely by something the goblin rarely heeded, his instincts. Next came the sounds of each thump, something still hidden by the dense woods thumping and pressing through to the beach, now breaking and even toppling some young trees as it neared. Chestius activated his goggles, which switched the spectrum of the darkened night into one he could easily see through, staring into the woods where the sounds of movement warned of his coming threat. Sparks… toggling his vision showed color of a bloody red as he watched marked the way. This was it. This was what the elves were fearing.. What likely killed the deathguards. This was what took out his ship. The rifle Chestius drew from his back made not a sound as it aimed down the line at the figure now silhouette in the distance. With a final thump, it stopped just at the treeline, giving just enough visibility for Chestius to finally get a look at its form… Chestius could count on on hand how many times he’d felt his heart sink. The first time was when he found out he was the father of a boy to a witch, seeing the child used as no more than a test subject for torture… The second time was when corruption took his long time friend Hanz, driving him to becoming fodder for a monster that swept through their company, killing several of their own men. Now, Chestius felt his heart practically fall from his chest for the third time his long life of war and business… As he looked through the scope, he saw a hulking mass of an orc, glaring with eyes of pure burning crimson at the place where his gyrocopter fell amidst the waves. His barrel shook for a second as his finger, which was tight on the trigger, melted away, cowering from its only job in the field. This orc, flashing with red sparks, grunted and growled as it hid away in the treeline. Though outside of view of the elves and the warships that waited offshore, Chestius recognized what this was… This was no monster… It was Banjin… He was hulking, his eyes glazed over with a bloody veil, and his famous chi was sparking out of whack against his onyx flesh.. His clothes were badly torn and barely clinging to his berserk form. He was on all fours like a gorilla, sniffing the air and looking to the beach. This was why the elves dug in, the reason they didn’t signal, light any fires, or even show themselves… They weren’t worried about escaping the Horde.. They were trying to escape Banjin… Inhaling to speak, but silencing himself, the goblin kept creeping back. His stealth arts erased his presence enough to where even his scent was obscured. But Banjin had great senses outside of his primal form.. In that state, if the brute got too close, he’d likely be able to locate Chestius even without eyes. And as if answering his thoughts as a dare, the flaring of nostrils gave notice to the hulking monk now moving through the treeline closer, Banjin’s eyes now fixing on the crawling trail that lead to the bushes. The goggles were still there, lying amidst the shrubbery, waiting to become the battery that lead the orcish bloodhound right onto his trail! Silently cursing, all Chestius could do at this point was get distance. It was either a ship full of night elves too scared to move, or an obviously berserked Banjin most likely not about to ask the goblin to sit down for tea. This amongst hundreds of other thoughts crying out Why or How were silenced amidst the tempered heart of battle Chestius would normally pride himself upon. This situation was beyond dire… As Banjin stretched his head out of the brush, hunching over to crawl slowly towards the bush, sniffing the air and grunting, Chestius scrambled in his mind for something to do. He couldn’t attack, he couldn’t flee, he couldn’t stay here hoping to remain hidden. The pressure building faster and faster as the mad monk hissed words that would claw further at the old heart of his former general. “Ca..ptain….Betray..er….. Burned… Burned.. it… all….” growled the monk. But amidst the sensation of fear prickling at his heart alongside its partner grief, Chestius was able to feel it… ‘...He’s…. Crying…’ The goblin ached out the words into straight thoughts as he stopped in his tracks. Looking at his former employee, a man he treated and boasted about like his own son, Chestius could see the lines from tears still dripping from the monks eyes… Gripping his chest, Chestius felt his composure slip.. He inhaled to call out to his student, senses fading to a rise of emotion strong enough to topple any heart, no matter the stone amidst its make. “Targets, six o’ clock.” Rang Skorm’s voice in Chestius’ ears, tethering him back to Azeroth as he whipped around to see a night elf not fifteen feet from him, eyes and weapon trained on Banjin! Pulling the trigger was all the goblin processed as his own body immediately reacted and chaos once again reclaimed the night! A screeching flare whipped from the gun of the night elf scout, blasting towards the treeline and bursting with light right in front of Banjin! And almost within the same moment, Chestius’ hand slipped to his side to draw and fire a pistol at the elf, the gunshot cracking a split second after the initial flare! The gunfire caught the elf offguard, the bullet tearing through the air and hitting her directly in the head! The thump of her elegant form hitting the ground was silenced by the earthsplitting roar that blasted from the mad monk, thrashing about and howling as his tear filled eyes locked shut! Gunfire from the cannons offshore lead in the moments after, cannonballs hitting the waters and the beach, aiming for the target that was illuminated! Banjin retreated backwards into the woods as the cannons hit the sands and ground, shelling closer and closer, but not landing a direct hit upon him! Chestius hit the grit, deploying a smoke pellet and clawing his way into the dense brush to avoid sight from all the forces around him. Ships waiting for a beachside target to bombard with death, night elves now alerted to an assassin, and his own maddened friend out for blood… ...This was going to shave years off his life...
  4. Hello! I feel like I should have posted this SOONER, but I've kinda been all over the board as far as forumers go! I am Hunter, otherwise known as Chestius, otherwise known as Mr. Pockets. I'm a small time youtuber and a huge fan of both WoW and TF2. I've been playing both for YEARS, and adore everything that comes with it! Some funny facts about me: I am very bad at video games I can do voice impressions of both the Goblins in WoW as well as the Scout in TF2 (the only difference was Smokers Lung, after all) Beyond that, I'm just a dork who loves treating WoW as an extra D&D Night. I love the game and challenge, but also love the storytelling and fun with RP. Hit me up in game for some Battlegrounds, and I look forward to seeing everyone in BfA!
  5. Skullduggery War, a constant within the world of Azeroth, something guaranteed like the tide's ebb and flow. Causes of war are negligible once it starts, and the moral code of justice only caters to the winning side. After all, the flavor text of history books is decided by the winning side, is it not? So don't delude yourself with a sense of justice and mercy, just focus on surviving, winning, making it to the end of the day. It's rare to find folks that can see events like these for what they truly are. Those talented visionaries are sought out, branching from all walks of life to empower each other. Standing as one seafaring unit, survival in this ever-changing world is guaranteed.. Skullduggery Mercenary Corporation is a multi-faceted company of talented on-call work. With a recent up front payment, Skullduggery has an extended contract working as an elite privateering force for the betterment of The Horde (Disclaimer: This is by no means to be confused with Piracy. Skullduggery is a licensed company that employs legitimate work). With recent events causing a disturbance between the Alliance and Horde, a call to arms has been established. Assassins, criminals, heroes, brawlers, privateers, thugs, nobility, soldiers, and even the incredibly foolhardy and brave. All walks of life are trained, forged in the fires of combat, and prepared for anything to come. All walks of life can commit to the code. All walks of Life can be dedicated to the Defense of the Horde... But only the elite can truly become a Skullduggery Sailor. With the ever-encroaching forces of the Alliance seeking to destroy, rout, and enslave the Horde as their resolution for peace, Skullduggery is a fighting force that attacks from where enemies deemed impossible. Suicidal missions, special operations, chaotic battles, and constant calls for strike teams at the ready are what Skullduggery brings to the table. And of course, for the risks taken, reward is a must. Those that seek the lucrative life of a skilled mercenary should seek out none other than Skullduggery! Enlist today! {OOC} Skullduggery is a passion project guild being built for Mythic Dungeons, Casual PvP, World PvP, and RP amidst this all. We look to be laid back and relaxed, allowing player freedom and fun in and out of game. The Guild Alignment is officially Chaotic Neutral, as many ranges of contracts for work will be available, some on the table, and others below it. We are part of a community of RP guilds looking to bring more players into the mix for BfA. Requesting Employment? Rules: We are laid back, looking for more to join in on the random fun. In character is where RPers will see the obvious rank and file of a naval company, but ooc will always be open to chill. Race: All Canon Horde races are accepted. Character: All ranges of alignment are accepted as Skullduggery employs a melting pot of culture, however each member must be capable of following a code of conduct. This code is for the safety and functionality of Skullduggery employees, therefore cannot be abused. (Treason and infighting are not accepted character traits) Classes: All canon classes are accepted alongside flavor to such classes. (example: An orc monk who identifies as a Brawler is fine, as Brawler still fits within the ideals of a Windwalker Monk) PvP Conduct: War Mode will be something encouraged, but not forced. WPvP events will of course be in War Mode. With War Mode being on, attacking enemy players is indeed encouraged, but keep this separate from obvious bad sportsmanship (Like whisper harassment and character stalking). Code of Conduct: Complete the Contract. Bring each and every contractor home. Do not stand in the way of a contract. Do not stand in your fellow employees way. Work together, survive, endure, and cash out together. At the end of the day, Success and Survival are all that matters... Contact: Chestius of the Ravenholdt Server. we have a Discord for most of our RP as well as Communications. We are looking for all sorts of players interested in both gaming as well as RP. No prior experience required, in fact, we encourage all to jump in and give it a try. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Leadership: 1. Captain Chestius, Owner of Skullduggery and Captain of her Flagship. -Age: 60+ -Profession: Hunter/Sniper -Years in Service: N/A