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Bronwen last won the day on November 8 2020

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About Bronwen

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  1. Full Name: Bronwen McGreynor Nicknames: Brownie, Red Age: Around 30? perhaps a year or few younger. Race: Human Gender: Woman Hair: Dark Red Skin: Quite pale, but not sickly Eyes: Forest Green Height: The tall side of average Body Type: Lithe Place of residence: Currently Ironforge Place of Birth: Stormwind, or close to it. Known Relatives: None living that she knows of. Religion/Philosophy: Look out for yourself because no one else is going to. Occupation: Former SI:7, basically an assassin merc living off her savings now. Group/Guild affiliation: None kno
  2. The next victim, or would-be victim, is a woman carrying a bag on each arm, walking from Brill on a road going towards one of farms. When she falls to the ground after getting hit by a more solid person from out of nowhere, neither of the satchels make any harsh noise like clanking metal or ores, or acidic alchemical bottles breaking and hissing as their foul concoctions eat through the cloth holding them. It is a muted and hollow sound, nothing close to even a thud, and even less substantial than the frail undead woman frozen in fear with a blade poking into her neck. She wears a dress
  3. Many hours later on the way north towards Brill, Bronwen slowly moves toward the city proper first to peer at the entrance once again. A few guards are there, of course, but still a couple more than she would have expected to have riled up just yet. She frowns and collapses her spyglass between her hands. Of course, she still wants to go inside anyway despite her orders, and it wouldn’t be the first time that she defied that specific instruction in a situation much like this. She's fortunately wise enough to know the difference between merely wanting to go cause problems for the enemy and inst
  4. Nothing happens as she sits and watches until even the smoke from the burnt-out torch no longer rises. Nothing happens quickly, at least, and Bronwen has a lot of ground to cover so she ultimately decides that she shouldn’t be wasting time on this. She had expected maybe someone coming quickly when a regular patrol was delayed, but they don’t come before she begins to get impatient. Perhaps Command was more than correct in assuming much of the bulk of their excess soldiers were on Kalimdor and there was less than imagined to spare on something so mundane on forest patrol. That thought made her
  5. Early on the third day the agent makes good time reaching the Ruins of Lordaeron, if one could call sneaking past a choke point filled with undead troops in any form 'quick'. Crossing to Fenris Isle, then crossing again to the mainland shore would be much too conspicuous to even the least vigilant peering eyes, so Bronwen pays off a band of rebellious worgen with a good chunk of her supplies to create some trouble on the other side of the road closer to the water to draw the guards' attention. Even if one or a few are ordered to keep watch, the nearby commotion helps her pass through the shado
  6. On the first day, there is nothing. Nothing too far out of the ordinary for a dying forest, at least. Silverpine is the same rotting land in ruins it has been for far too many years, and the undead are of absolutely no help to it. The trees are either dying or getting chopped to the ground, as the Forsaken seem it proper to adopt foul orcish custom these days. Abominations still roam the land and belch their putrid gases into the air to mingle with the poisonous fumes wafting from the work of the camp apothecaries, which in turn mixes with the smoke rising from destroyed weapons of failed