Welcome to the Gazette!

Haven't seen you chatting with the NPCs in the enchanting shop lately.

Hosting of public events is a good start. Can be something like holiday parties onwards up to the introduction of a story plot that multiple people can get involved in if they choose to. Other than that, I'd say as a guild leader, you just need to have rules that make sense for everyone and enforce them accordingly and consistently. Don't be a tyrant and don't be manipulative, but don't let things slide because you're afraid of losing people. There may be divas who think that they can shove their weight around who might threaten to flounce if they face consequences for behaving badly, but ultimately the majority of people, especially roleplayers, respect and flock to places where they know leadership is understanding and patient, but also not afraid to put their foot down if need be. I also find that having a mix of activities is beneficial over just strictly being an RP guild. Guilds should be little mini-communities where members help each other out and aren't afraid to ask for help with things, be it a quest, dungeon group, pvp matters, or just needing to talk to someone if they're not feeling 100% good. Up to you on if you choose to go hardcore RP and demand that gchat and public channels are RP only, but if you're hoping to attract people, new and inexperienced people might find that a bit overwhelming to have to switch to an OOC chat channel to ask a question or ask for assistance, but that's entirely on a perosn-by-person basis, so I can't say definitely what you should do with that. But, in essence... create the foundation and a welcoming environment, and people will generally congregate to it. It may take some time, and you may hit some bumps along the way, but persistence and consistency ultimately pay off.

Believe it or not, she kills with stabbing commentary more than with those Klingon weapons.

Fay has a little Horde and Alliance meet and greet on Wednesdays, and I think alternating Thursdays, at around 6:30PM Server. Last one went until about 8PM or so. You might have to add people to Bnet to communicate cross faction, but it's not a bad way to meet people on the same or other faction.

Scars

((TW: Violence and implied abuse)) It had always been somewhere in the back of his head that his tenure with Rutilus Luna would come to an end someday... That eventually the leadership would atrophy and slough off as the burdens of constant war became too much, retiring and leaving the holdings over to someone else that couldn't uphold standards, or perhaps they'd end up scattered and unable to cohesively reform again. Especially with his having been saddled with leading it, and even though he gratefully took the demotion when Theira was finally strong enough to reclaim the title of Matron, he was still tied to managing many of the people and operations within it. And it was fine for awhile... So long as he mediated when needed and completed the assignments that were parsed out to him, it was just like any other day job. He had his private cabin with a spectacular view, furnishings, and shared with by a pretty little minx who was more than happy to find new, if not boggling, ways of being a distraction. There was now a void where a hierarchy used to be, having removed the Rutilus insignia tabard after a particularly heated spat with Theira over a difference of opinions, why he had disobeyed orders to not take part in a cities raid, and whether or not it had been ordered that a certain priest he was fond of be slowly poisoned to death. Looking back on it, he knew it could have been resolved if he at the very least hadn't been so determined to point out how everything Theira was saying was wrong. He hadn't gone in with the clearest mind... having been found passed out at The Filthy Animal surrounded by a myriad of empty or mostly empty liquor bottles, face planted on a page in his sketchbook of a calligraphy design he had been toying around with, of which half ended up sticking to his face and smudging the rest to where it had been ruined. Those who found him had quickly surrounded him, teasing and prodding with questions about why he had started 'partying' earlier than normal, inundating his senses with too much information, and one in particular making him feel awkward in ways that made him want to drown his thoughts in firewater until they stopped squirming again. He hadn't been home in days... Frustration from having been made to feel wounded by some rather hurtful comments from the one he was working so hard to make happy had made him avoidant of going back to the cabin to end his days with proper rest. After his assignments were completed, he hearthstoned back to it to tend to the rookery and to the beasts that lived there in their retirement and guarded it. Thankfully they were mostly self-sufficient, the crows in particular still being mostly wild but the two or three families of them having decided that they liked the arrangement of a few following him out on his tasks to swoop in and attack tings he directed them upon in exchange for a warm and secure setup to house their young in. He wasn't there more than maybe an hour before he would take off again and either rent a bed or a room at an inn or find a secure nook with which to take a nap when he absolutely couldn't go any further without sleeping. But his dreams as of late were tormenting him again... only instead of prophetic visions of mutilation and ruined cities, it was... intimacy that was not expected, but was taken, only to leave him waking up in dizzying bouts of awkwardness and guilt. And the main subject of those dreams? Dared to keep just casually walking about with that arrogant swagger, and interjecting commentary that made most of the others pause before sniping back in counter commentary or busting out in laughter. Except for him... Nowadays he just forced a facade of normalcy, though increasingly finding himself unable to quip back like he normally did as he struggled to hide away that anything was wrong. For the most part it worked... except on a few, who made it their mission to constantly ask him if anything was the matter. He had lied a lot just to get them to bore with the questioning and find something else to focus on. Then she came in... setting down next to him and, for a time, making him feel like things were ok again, only to do a complete turnaround in complaining loudly and publicly about how he had been neglecting their relationship. It made his heart sink, though he tried to ignore it as just a joke, and he was just being dramatic in taking things the wrong way. Either way, it wasn't the best mindset for confronting Theira about the actions of a particular Mugwort sibling, and having her lay out flat that she questioned his judgment and was furious at the choices he had made regarding the divulging of information and his choice to not discipline a subordinate for going against decrees. Rather than taking the time to calmly consider his words, he just lashed back with whatever came to his mind first, and she reflected back with her own until she indignantly walked away, which was the last straw for him... "You know what? Fuck this. You can have this back." The tabard had been taken off, balled up, and chucked onto the floor by her feet, and in a haze of fury he had made his way out of the inn with the intentions of leaving the city, only to be stopped and further questioned about what was wrong. He had refused to answer, annoying some and sparking intense worry in others, but he recalled only saying that he needed to leave for awhile before finally managing to do so. He hadn't been back to Dalaran since, and for now had discarded his known lines of communication. Rutilus or not, however, he still had jobs to complete for the Horde's interests in Suramar, and thankfully Thalyssra was more than happy to keep him on tasks she needed done while also being discrete about when he had been there, if anyone had decided to come looking. She gave him the usual things to do, finding his efficiency in tracking and rooting out spies particularly effective, or inciting mayhem in one part of the city to prompt the guards and demons to swarm there while other people worked in the neglected parts doing other tasks. Today, however, the mission was going to be different. The wails of a Nightborne woman indicated right out of the gate as he entered Shal'Aran and found the First Arcanist comforting the sobbing woman. He had seen despair and anguish from these people before, but this one seemed different, and he decided to keep back before announcing his presence. "You have to save my husband!" The lamentation was not unusual, given Ellisande's increasing imprisonment, exiling, and sacrificing of her people... but Rand kept paying attention, "He found that monster doing... horrible things... to my son! Ala'ran stopped him but then they took him!" Thalyssra gently patted the woman on the back, attempting to comfort her, but still not yet aware that any other help had shown up yet, as the Arcan'Dor chamber was mostly empty save for a few sleeping refugees. Rand wasn't sure if it was the proper time to make himself known, staying in an area where he wouldn't be noticed right away, though spying from location a little Nightborne boy sitting by himself. He looked roughed up, and there was a bulky dressing covering one of his eyes, sniffing and wiping away at his face, though noticeably flinching if he accidentally bumped the bandage. There were suspicious tears at his clothes, and what looked to be a curtain cord fashioned into a makeshift belt, and Rand furrowed his eyes in taking a guess by what the crying woman meant by "horrible things", since this was clearly her kid. The talking between the woman and Thalyssra continued, but it was mostly questioning about who the perpetrator was, which he had a feeling he was going to be finding out about soon enough. For now, though, the kid concerned him, and he silently made his way over to the boy, who was facing the corner of an alcove, tapping a stick on the ground in some makeshift game while he waited there. Rand stopped about ten feet away from him, before setting himself down on the floor leaning back against the wall as the boy looked over at him with a mix of fear and despondency. "Hey." Rand smiled, removing his goggles from his eyes, keeping his demeanor nonthreatening, "Is this your first time here?" The boy frowned at him, watching closely for a moment, before giving a small nod in response, "...momma said we had to leave and can't go back home anymore..." "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that..." He was careful with how he was going to approach this. Children weren't something he was unfamiliar with, but traumatized ones were particularly delicate. "It's because I was bad." The boy said plainly, in a rather worrying way, "Mr. Mail said I shouldn't cry... but I did..." "Mr. Mail, huh?" A courier? Rand was already forming a plan on what he'd need to do, "I think he's a liar." The boy blinked, and shook his head, though wincing as the wound behind the bandage reacted to the motion, "Nuh uh... Mr. Mail said I needed to be good and if I was bad then momma and daddy would have to go away forever and I'd get eaten by the monster men." The child rambled, and Rand wondered if he should try and stop him, "N...now daddy's gone and we had to run away and... and..." "Do you know who I am?" Rand kept a calm and friendly demeanor, "The nice lady talking with your momma over there? I'm her helper. It's my job to make bad people like Mr. Mail go away." The boy looked amazed at that, "R...really? Mr. Mail said that no one would like us anymore if... if I..." "Really really." He tried to interrupt the kid's train of thought to keep him from spiraling, "I've made lots of bad people go away, and I bring the good people back, too." "Like daddy?" "Like daddy." The boy looked less upset now, which Rand was relieved to see, "You'll get my daddy back?" Rand nodded. Chances are whoever the guy was, he was being held in a holding cell somewhere out in one of the city squares, serving as an example to be made for a few days while he went into withdrawals from being cut off from the Nightwell, but he didn't tell the kid that, "Yes, because that's what the nice lady's helpers do." A momentary smile, but then the kid became crestfallen again, "...but we can't go home..." The sudden drop in his mood sent Rand's mind scrambling to find a way to keep the kid from being upset again, "And what if you can't get daddy back?" "I'll get him back, because I'm stronger than the bad men." Rand lifted up an arm, flexing it a bit as a means to humorously show off, "And the demons, too. But... there's a lot of them, so I hope it's ok that you don't mind sleeping over here for a bit? The nice lady loves making new friends." It seemed to work, the kid no longer being upset, and now just a bit sullen, "So we can go home, someday?" Rand nodded, "Yep. You can have an adventure here while me and the other helpers get rid of all the bad things. In the meantime, the nice lady needs a captain to be the leader of her pirate crew!" The last bit he just thought up on the fly, hoping that the kid wasn't going to just think him weird for saying it. "What's a pirate?" The boy was confused, but only because he didn't know what it was he was talking about. "Well... they're treasure hunters. They live on boats and travel the world looking for things they like." Rand digged into a pack a moment, taking out a small leather skin and a cutting knife, "They wear eyepatches and fight sea creatures, and other pirates. Bad pirates." He began slicing into the skin, the boy watching him curiously and listening to what he was saying, "The nice lady has treasures that she needs to have kept safe. Would you like to help her?" Another small nod from the boy, who had now turned away from the wall and scooted a little closer as he watched Rand cut shapes into the skin as well as some long strips. Once he had all the pieces, he dug into his pack again and pulled out a thick needle and thread, stitching some of the pieces together and braiding the strips until the final product was completed: an eyepatch of the appropriate size to accommodate the boy's eye size and the bandage on it. "Here." He held it up and offered it out to the kid, who got up to walk over and let him tie it on. Secure enough to where it wouldn't droop off right away, but loose enough to not aggravate the wound, "What's your name?" "Calien." The boy replied. "Well, now you are Captain Calien of Shal'Aran." Rand grinned patting him lightly on the back, "I'm Rand." The boy giggled and smiled touching the eyepatch lightly, and excitedly going back to where he left his stick, beginning to wave it around like a makeshift sword. Rand chuckled, watching and feeling glad he had helped the kid to feel better... if only temporarily. Maybe once some of the other refugee kids woke up and met him, he'd come back to find a roving band of knee-biting 'pirates' causing chaos for this place. "Adorable." Thalyssra's voice beckoned over, him looking to see her standing by a pillar, having been watching for at least part of the interaction. She looked pleased, and amused as she glanced to the new 'pirate' whacking at a bit of stone in pretending it was an 'enemy', "I didn't see you come in, but I suppose that's why I want you for this bit of work." "I can guess what you want, but go ahead and give me the details." His demeanor shifted to being more serious, though he still looked rather pleased with having helped the kid. "The person you're going to look for is a courier." She confirmed his first assumption was right, "His main avenues through the city passed by the family's home. He... apparently has a history of boasting of his ties and friendships to some of Ellisande's lieutenants, and using that as a means to threaten anyone who attempts to challenge or stop anything he is doing. This is, from what I've been told, not the first child he has targeted... nor is this the first family he has had torn apart and forced into exile." "I'll give you the discount rate on this one, then." He quipped, taking a piece of paper that she handed over to him that was a map of where the family's home was as well as the guessed route the courier would be taking. "Hm... Appreciated." Thalyssra raised an eyebrow at him a moment, "Make it quick and quiet... and search him for the key to the cell that Ala'ran is locked up in. Either he or a lieutenant has it. Apparently they custom made one, because none of the unsealing orbs for the other cells in the square will work on it." "If it's a lieutenant, I'm going to have to make a scene. A big one if the first one I check doesn't have it..." Rand was being honest, looking over the map a moment before folding it up and pocketing it, "That might cause another search team to be deployed to find this place." "I will form a plan for if that happens, but do your best to make this as clean as possible. We need to focus on breaking into the Nighthold and ending this war permanently." "I get it." He nodded, standing up, "Just giving you a heads up on what you might have to counter." "That's appreciated." She smiled, "And thank you for coming when you did... I wasn't sure how I was going to explain that nothing could be done, since I've sent almost all my forces to the front lines... and many of them are still trapped." "Been in your spot before, and I don't envy it. I'll get going now." He pulled his goggles back over his eyes, gathering up his pack before saying his farewells and heading towards the portal network, picking the one that was closest to the location he would have to scope out and wait for "Mr. Mail" to make his appearance. ----- It took awhile, but the waiting game paid off. The sun was beginning to touch on the edge of the horizon, giving just enough shadow cover so that when he made his move, it would be easy to move out quickly before any patrols happened upon the scene. A man in a courier's outfit was running down a street that paralleled a canal, seeming completely unconcerned and unaware that he was being hunted. His assumptions about having friends in high places that would keep him safe would be his downfall, and as he jogged past his position, Rand steadied the arrowhead on him at a point just below the nape of his neck, and prepared to let it sing through the air to make its new home right in a crevice of his spine. Except... that would be too easy, and too lenient of a sentence for what this predator did, and had done. Rand had changed into a darker ensemble for this mission, a hood now covering his head, and dark purple and brown making up the color scheme of his attire, which was perfect for melding into the shadows. He set his bow aside, opting to leave it behind on his vantage point as he jumped off the ledge and parkoured along rooftops and other ledges at a pace to get well in front of his target. He passed by the bazaar, putting on his mirage mask disguise before sneakily grabbing a bottle of arcwine that a vendor wasn't keeping proper watch on, and moving along to an area he knew lay just ahead that the cocky idiot would be moving right by. A bit of dashing to slip past a couple of observant guards before he settled into his location, setting the arcwine down on the ground while he counted down the time left for when the guy was going to get within range. His chosen spot was a garbage filled alleyway that few guards burdened themselves with patrolling since it was too narrow for more than perhaps two people to walk down, and was probably also the least kept spot in the entire city in regards to maintenance and cleanup. A distinct tang of fel in the air permeated it as well, possibly from one of the homes connected to it having been raided and near obliterated by demons or their magic, possibly because someone fell out of favor with someone else who declared treachery and brought the wrath of the Legion down upon civilians who likely didn't deserve it. Who knew for certain... all Rand knew was that he could take as much time here as he needed to, and that noise wasn't going to be something he'd need to worry with keeping down either. The courier kept jogging along, humming a tune as he looked over some letters he was given to deliver that detailed reports about 'suspicious' people, who would need to be interrogated next, and orders for patrol movements. He knew the alleyway as a repulsive spot that he was woefully forced to pass by on his routes, but he had never encountered anything there to be concerned with. So, it was quite the shock when he felt something punch out and grab him by the side of the face, wheeling him around and ramming the other side of his face into a wall. The world spun and blackened as he fell, but he didn't lose consciousness, and was awake enough to feel himself being roughly grabbed again and dragged across the ground. He thrashed to free himself of his attacker, whoever they were, but solid downward punch to the gut made him curl up as the air was forced out of him and he felt a 'snapping' of something inside him getting forced out of place... or broken. The courier gasped and coughed, attempting to demand who his attacker thought they were, and that he would see to it that they would pay for this, but he barely managed to utter a few gurgling noises before he got a toe strike right in his side, followed by another, and then another. Whoever it was, they clearly didn't care about his connections, and had no qualms about breaking everything in him or turning it to mush. So, the threatening turned into attempted begging, which seemed to cause a pause in the assault, and gave him some hope that perhaps he could escape from this. That hope was dashed when he felt himself being straddled and the coif of his courier uniform roughly pulled over his head and tightened down to where he could barely breath. He thought he saw a glimpse of a hood and angry purple eyes peering down at him from it, attempting to grab at them in another attempt to fight them off, but found himself screaming in agony as one of his hands was slammed down and had something stabbed through it and into the ground... and then the other. He flailed and screamed, hoping someone would notice and hear them, but he couldn't lift off whoever was on top of him, and other than his screams and the seething breaths of his attacker, there was only silence. Then the strike began. Slamming down one after another in a methodical and almost rhythmic way, ignoring his muffled pleads for mercy as his face was belted, over and over again. The courier continued to try to scream for help, feeling teeth and bits of his cheek and lips falling into the back of his mouth as blood also pooled up there, and the strikes just kept continuing. Eventually his cries and his writhing stopped as parts of his brain started to become impacted by the strikes, but he somehow remained alive, and conscious enough to be able to process the pain. "A drink for the dead..." His attacker finally spoke to him, and there was a small popping of a cork, before an entire bottle's contents of arcwine was poured onto his face. It seeped through the cloth and gushed down into the crater that now comprised his face, searing the flesh along the way and pooling up at the bottom where it slollumed down his windpipe with bits of other things to fill up his lungs. A few last sputters and gurgles, before "Mr. Mail" was rendered completely silent and still as the last traces of his life were snuffed out from drowning in the thing he had sold out who knows how many people in order to keep a steady supply of for himself. The deed was done now... Rand taking one last motion to break the bottle the arcwine had come in on the ground, and grabbing a large, jagged piece of it. He pulled the cloth of the uniform down just enough off the guy's head to expose his forehead, digging in to the flesh with it to carve in a symbol that, when he was found, would be yet another clear message to those that maintained their loyalty to Ellisande. He etched in the Dusk Lilly's insignia before tossing the glass shard to the side, pulling the knives he had used to staple the guy to the ground out of his hands, cleaning them off and sheathing them before standing up to take one last look at his handiwork. Thalyssra was going to be mad that he didn't keep it 'clean' like he said he would... but... then he remembered something. Kneeling down over the guy again, he checked his pockets for the key that she had told him about, hoping he wasn't going to have to gatling his way through a hoards of demons just to get at and search some lieutenant that may or may not have it either, but thankfully he found what he was looking for. A prison unsealing orb, a slightly different color than they usually were, indicating that this was the custom made one he'd need to open up the cell to get Ala'ran out and back to the sanctuary. He left the alleyway, about to make a turn to head back towards the main street when his reflection in a window caught his attention. Blood spatters covered his face, and with the angle of the sun dipping below the horizon, the shadows cast on him across his face gave his eyes a deeply sunk in look... Demonic, even, which seemed to confuse him a little... "Guess it takes a monster to kill a monster..." He sighed, remembering also that he needed to but the mirage disguise back on, doing so before continuing on his way to locate the holding cell. ----------------------- "Outlander, you brought him! Very good." Thalyssra looked glad to see Rand walking in the entrance, carrying the hunched over form of an extremely starved Nightborn man piggyback. He had his head canted down, hiding his face, though she blinked once as she noticed blood spatters on some of the clothing he wore, as well as the fact that the clothing wasn't what she was used to seeing him in, "Set him down... we will take it from here." "Yeah..." Rand moved to where Thalyssra was beckoning him, sliding the man off his back, and then backing off to let her kneel in front of him, "I need to get going now." "Of course. I will have your fee deposi-" She looked up at him, alarmed when she finally saw his face that it too was pretty well covered in blood, "...what happened?" "Wasn't able to make it clean..." His tone indicated that his mind was barely even here, like it was in somewhere far off, "But it won't cause problems for you. Made sure of that..." Thalyssra didn't know how to respond to that, and Ala'ran's condition seemed to be the more important concern for her. Rand anticipated that, and took it as his cue to begin leaving. "M'leaving now." He turned away to let her tend to the man, spying Calien and his mother from earlier in the day sleeping on a bedroll in the corner he had found the boy in before, and looking like he was sleeping peacefully, which actually put a smile on his face, "I'll be around." His last words to the First Arcanist, before he made his exit.

Because I am a sap. A horrible sappy sap. A healthy dose of violence should balance things out.

A flyer is tacked up on the outside of The Filthy Animal in Dalaran:

OC, not WoW related, or at least predates WoW. Leopard fighting style is interesting.

"arrived" being the key word. Not that it matters. It's a mount you get from playing another Blizzard game. Where they come from is open to interpretation, and I have my own for that character mount.

I don't think they do. There's nothing in their description that says anything about Dalaran.

I didn't know her... beyond seeing her a few times in game, I regretfully never talked to her. It sounds like she was a great character, and person overall. I'm very sorry for your loss... Just remember to take as much time grieving as you want and feel you need to. Don't let anyone tell you how you should feel, or when you should feel how they want you to.

One axe is love, the other is peace

Trying to upload a picture in my thread in the art forum and I keep getting a red exclamation point everytime I try and upload it. Keraph said I haven't hit any upload limit, and the picture is only 24KB. I have tried two different computers in two different locations.

The hint for who this is may lay in the filename