How Did It All Begin
The origins of one of the Alliance's most influential ambassadors to the Horde was composed of many twists and turns. One of the main twists in his life was his chance of meeting with an SI:7 operative that would not only give him a second chance at life, but also to give him a friend that he would owe his life to, much to the denial of the rogue. This story includes a lot of important story elements mainly in Cajucom's background, but a bit of how he got stuck sharing a house with a man who was known to be the "sleaziest man in Stormwind" but also "The One-Eyed Owl of Death".
CHAPTER 3: Intrusion
The SI:7 agent stepped cautiously on the floor, knowing that any foreign sound would probably set off an alarm. But it wasn't such a task for Litao, as subtly was his methods of working. He continued following the lackey that would lead him directly to where this twisted man he has heard about. The more he followed this man, the closer he got to his destination. But also, he got closer to the sounds of torture and pain echoing acrossing the halls. They were faint only minutes ago, but now he was so close, he could even hear the breathing.
The lackey stopped before a set of guards leading to what happen to be the entrance to the source of all the painful screaming. Litao leaned his body into the shadows and listened in, jotting notes in his leather-bound book as he surveyed.
CHAPTER 1: Reminiscing
The smell of the dwarven district's constantly burning foundaries were inescapable, even to those who were barely near its quarters, however thanks to the nice shaman draenei Farseer Umbrua and her wind totem, the smell never reached the insides of the Golden Keg (though in return she requested that all of her fruity cocktails were to be comped, much to the displeasure of Thaegra the owner). She had to reset her totem every two hours in order to hold back the smell, she found displeasure in that. Not because it took her away from training any traveling shaman looking for new skills or a lecture, it was because that perverted SI:7 agent at the front table would make comments about her behind.
"Hey there, tall, blue, and pretty, why not show me what you can do with that tail?"
((Please mind the tags for this post before reading! It gets worse before it gets better...This is the final planned part of Ark's backstory that's been rattling in my head since I unexpectedly rolled him.))
The landlord had unceremoniously dumped Arkav’s few remaining possessions in the gutter. The man kept what little of Greg’s old furniture Ark hadn’t already sold or ruined himself. There was a new lock and an eviction notice pasted to the door.
Ark looked at the soggy bundle at his hooves while rain trickled off the end of his nose. He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets, and began walking.
“Yer fired,” Fergun Goldweaver grunted, arms crossed as he glared up at the bewildered Arkav.
Engineering sketches lay scattered across the sitting room floor.
Empty mugs sit on an end table while music plays on a staticky machine.
The resting building creaks and groans.
Stormwind’s bells ring a ridiculously late—early?—hour.
A few days ago on the realm forum I put up a topic asking where people go Alliance side to try and find random walk up RP. Alternatively, ideas for a good centralized location for folks to find one another for random RP. It's really something we should have done when Deathwing wrecked the Park. :\ But with everyone mostly "based" in Stormwind during Cata, it didn't seem as necessary, I guess.
Comment here, sure, but also maybe hop on an Alliance character and comment on the realm forums too--if nothing else, it'll bump the topic and show other Shadow Council RPers--and any folks looking for a RP server--that we do have RPers here looking to connect. :)
“What exactly does a little girl like that know about running a merc group?”
“Ain’t like they’re real mercs anyway. Still too much soldier in ‘em, look down on the rest of us freelancers.”
It had been an odd day.
First to be inside the walls of the Cathedral of Light. Since the last time I was there it was to assassinate one of their members.
June, 3 1/2 years ago
T’e rain was coming down sideways in warm sheets durin’ a summer lightning storm. Lantern light illuminated our features as he lit t’e wick in t’e darkened inn room. It smelled of cedar dust and mildewed quilts.
The light flickered about the small inn room within stormwind, a slender blue skinned draenei stood hunched over a workbench the squeaking of tools making adjustments whispered about even while her tail swished lazily from side to side.
With a small smile the draenei made several adjustments to her latest creation as it lay upon the workbench like a metal humanoid upon the operating table. While she was slightly shorter than average for one of her race, the metal figure she tinkered with was microscopic compared to the others it resembled. She’d seen visual drawings of the Fel Reavers with more than one being old schematic drawings of her own from draenor. They appeared to be trying to illustrate mechanical weak points in the towering demonic machines of death. She wondered if they still strode around the remains of Draenor, destroying any that did not serve the Legion.
Liathan sat on a rock pondering to herself. The whispering branches of the trees in Stormwind swaying in the breeze. The elf sitting lotus and staring at the ground hand on her chin, just pondering. Her thoughts mostly the Dragoon she had found washed up on an Island in Theramore unconscious. Kaewynn, she probably would have drowned if that small piece of land hadn’t been in the way.
Not that that was what she was mulling over, Lia had been happy to have found her and lend some aid, having provided a fire to warm the half drowned girl. A draenei paladin, Dacianna if Lia was remembering her name correctly had arrived shortly after the fire was started lending her own more substantial healing aid to help ensure Kaewynn was alright. Then the Paladin had departed to help someone else for a time.
Swords cannot slash doubt. Armor cannot deflect hatred.
The city was silent.
Rhianon watched as the ships came into the harbor, their faint lights flickering against the leaping waves. She watched as they were moored to the docks and soldiers marched off. Their voices were low and their eyes darted from ship to shore and then back again. She watched them gather on the docks, walking aimlessly between sea and city. And then she walked home.
They had returned a candlemark or two earlier, and she was the only one who had broken off from the group, tired of the discussions. There would be a calm for now, however shaky, but talks kept edging towards the future. Everything that had seemed so shifting and vague earlier in the day had condensed into a reality that almost seemed unbelievable. Beneath every comment, every word, Rhianon could sense the unspoken question.
Was this really happening? No - had this really happened?
The stormy winds calm as the western sky brightens. The sun is a molten gold disk, merging into the red and orange horizon, reflected by the ocean waters. Waves rise and fall, as steady as a heartbeat.
As steady as the drum beats echoing in my memories of shattered pink crystals, silvery forests filled with smoke, the cold haze of the marsh where we huddled, trying to live while waiting to die.
The Kaldorei hummed lightly to herself, wrist twisting back and forth causing the contents of her cask to slosh about noisily. The morning sun was still a ways from rising into the sky. Liathan moved along the outskirts of Olivia’s Pond swaying back and forth in a rather drunken manner, doing a small spin along the way and spotting a familiar figure heading towards the water’s edge. She smiled and switched direction approaching Nelenna as the worgen stopped at the pond looking out over it.
“Ishnu-Ala Kaltrone,” She grinned, even as Nelenna looked over at her with a frown.
((Continued from Brennan's blog comments))
Alynore studied Nelenna. It made sense to take a partner along. Nel, however, was not among the people Nore would have chosen at the moment.
Nelenna stepped out of the Argent Dawn building that the Dragoons had decided to rent out for the time being. She had split feelings about the place, on the plus it felt rather homely like she was use to from Gilneas. On the other hand it felt strange meeting and doing things out of this place rather than the Keep as the unit had down since before Nelenna had even been born from what she’d heard of the unit’s.
She took a turn heading for the stables to check on her animals and nearly ran straight into Liathan, the swift Elf pinned Nelenna against the stone wall briefly, “Ishnu-Ala, Kaltrone!”
Nelenna shoved her away with a frown at her lips, “You can try just saying hi like last time…rather than doing rather weird things.”
The Kaldorei tilted her head eyeing the walls of Stormwind curiously, the strong defensive fortifications. Heavy wooden gates reinforced with steel ready to be swung close at moments noticed. Ballista set up in a position to strike back at any long range siege weaponry. Odd, she really didn’t think Goldshire was that big of a threat to the city. Perhaps they hid their impressive weapons to lull this seaside fortress city into a false sense of security.
Alynore looked around the room, bare of all but the most basic amenities—bed, nightstand, wardrobe. She’d have to buy or build a bookshelf. For now, her books could stay in one of her footlockers. At least her specialized armor racks were set up.
She left her room. Wes’ bedroom door was closed; he hadn’t returned yet with his gear from Thorne’s lab. The teasing was awful, but as Wes liked to point out, no regs against it anymore.
Besides, it was economic, mostly. They still had their own space, even while being so very close. That suited her fine. She was a little anxious to ask how he felt, even if it was his idea.
Nelenna yet again wandered the streets of Stormwind, trying not to fidget to much with her bandaged hands. The Injuries had been healing rather well but she couldn’t afford to reinjure them, especially since the Dragoons were now completely dissolved. It was a despressing thought, especially since she had wanted to prove herself worthy and try to rejoin after this entire ordeal the unit had been tangled in was over and done with. She never thought that it would also mark the Dragoons themselves being done with.
The Gilnean pondered what she could do now, more importantly if it was possible for her to still help the others somehow. Though without a Guildstone it made keeping in touch with them rather hard. Her ears perked rather suddenly as she heard a rock go skittering across the stone pathway behind her. The worgen jerked her head around only to see nothing, but she knew at this point it couldn’t be true.
Somewhere in the pre-dawn light, Alynore found the moment of quiet she’d been craving since that awful evening. She took a swig of Haalani whiskey as she leaned on her footlockers. She’d been saving the potent Draenic brew for a special occasion; this seemed to count.
Ten hours ago she called the Dragoons to attention. They’d stood in front of judges and a prosecutor who called into question all of their decisions and actions, individually and as a unit.
Eight hours ago the Silver Dragoons ceased to be a part of the Stormwind military.
The squire had to repeat it twice before Alynore remembered that he was addressing her.
She took the reports, trying to ignore the twisting of her still-healing guts. Reading said reports didn’t help, and the stress-blocker tea the Judiciary had given her was long since cold.
No weapon on or near the woman dozens of witnesses had watched Bennett Harrigan kill. The Royal Guard who arrived on the scene to take the investigation said it sounded more like a lover’s quarrel, not part of some shadowy political scheme. Harrigan’s reputation with women wasn’t helping that perspective.
Nore still wanted to punch that damned captain in his smirking face.
When I first got to Darnassus, the Kaldorei were generous enough to get a few of us Gilneans a few houses in their city. I say the word ''few'' because the others moved to various places in the world, including Storwind. One normal day, I was reading a newspaper, and I found an advertisement about SI:7 recruiting. This was my chance to do something, to prove to myself that I'm capable of doing great things. The SI:7 headquarters were in the Old Town district of Stormwind, and I am going to go there.
I got directions how to get there from the locals, All it required was a boat trip from Teldrasil to Stormwind. Nothing too complicated, shockingly.
((Takes place right before this.Explicit for some violence.))
Alarms sound within the Stockades. Cries of prisoners and jailors mingle in the din of battle. Fighting breaks out somewhere within the complex, spreading like wildfire during the lunch hour. Urilla sits in the company of her rusty chains within the concrete cell, ears twitching at swords cross each other. But something else catches her aural attention more than most. Footsteps approaching the corridor softly, then slowly rising higher and higher over the din of melee combat.
A tired soldier is a danger to the team. Asking for stimulants to keep going when one’s already dangerously close to falling asleep during the weekly unit briefing is plain stupid. There was no way the Angels would have granted the request—not with the Judiciary in the Infirmary. Nore simply put her foot down, and ignored the amused look on Harrigan’s face when she ordered Corporal Brennan to delegate the investigation and get a full night’s sleep.
((Written as part of the Silver Dragoons' Humbled Service storyline. And Children's Week, Children's Week, Children's Week. >.> ))
Giuli rode stiffly on her horse, acutely aware of the small person perched precariously behind her on the saddle. Initially, this had seemed like a good idea. The Commander had told them to be nice to the children, after all, and the Matron had seemed so earnest about their plight. Just a day, she'd said. Just a day of seeing the world outside Stormwind's walls -- though why it was necessary, Giuli hadn't quite been clear. Stormwind was the most breathtaking place she'd ever seen, and she'd spent most of her life outside it. Sure, there was adventure and battle and cleaner-smelling mud out there, but surely a kid wouldn't want to see all of that. Or maybe they'd want to, but they probably shouldn't.
My master had left me continue my focus training in the abandoned barracks near the Stormwind docks, I usually come here to sleep but the old paladin thinks that its a suitible place to practice channeling my energies. Lately my master has been bothered by something ive tried to ask him what it is but he just smiles and tells me that its nothing to do with me which may be true but something tells me it has everything to do with me. *breaths heavily* "Alright... thats enough for today I think..." I mustve pushed myself to hard today cant even lift my sword that well. I open my eyes and see the ruined barracks with all its holes and empty halls and chairs its quite peaceful compared to the ignorant people who insult and condemn me outside of it. I still dont understand why these people cant accept that im different now...
Alynore stared at the slip of paper in her palm. She looked over at Captain Culbraith, clipping a potted mageroyal as he sat at his desk. His office was known in the general headquarters for practically being a greenhouse. “This can’t be serious.”
He glanced sideways, brows raised—he couldn’t lift just the one. “Orders are orders, Forrester. We don’t have to like ‘em, we just have to follow ‘em. It’s not a bad assignment, either, given what you’ve done the last couple years.”
“Don’t have to remind me,” she said, crossing her arms. The transcript crinkled in her fist.
Everyone's been talking about Children's week this week. Since it seemed so popular, I went to an orphanage in Stormwind to try it out.
There was a huge line towards the orphanage, and the people walking away from the orphanage had mainly human orphans, with a few gnome and dwarf kids. I thought that adult gnomes and dwarves were short enough but I was completly wrong. So much for staying behind a wall for almost your whole life with only human children.
I was next in line, and the orphan assigner lady brought out a little human girl for me. It made sense for the lady to bring a human orphan for me because I was in human form for that time.
"Bring the orphan back here by the end of the day."
We were walking toward the dwarven district when I decided to start up a conversation.
"So, whats your name?"
Nore liked the place where the mountains met the sea; safely away from the water, but she had to admit that the view was amazing. The sky was aflame as the sun slid into the equally burning sea. In the trees, the birds’ song faded, while the crickets in the grass took up the melody. The White Lady drew herself over the horizon to join the brightening Blue Child. Stars peeked through the clouds as the light cooled and darkened.
Today was over; tomorrow was a new beginning.