Scourge Invasion

 {{ Repost, but it's only been a couple of weeks. }}

“Bosun?”

“Aye, cap’n.  Black and yellow checks over the port: they’re quarantined.”

“The fel you say.  Give me that glass.”  The captain adjusted the focus.  “Kael’s balls!  What the blazes would make Goblins warn ships from a port?”  She started reading the flags below.  “Blue border… P.  Black and yellow check… L.  A. G. U. E. Merciful Light…”  She staggered against the rail.  “The Plague.”

--October 22--

"This Faceless chick, yeah I heard of her. Some elf aparantly, practically runs the world's black market, gotta be the wealthiest bitch on the planet by now." The gnome spat a wad of black chew onto the deck, peering out to the giant goblin statue peering out into the ocean through the mists, the lights of the dirty city behind glowing in the foggy haze.

“What the fel do you mean, her body is missing?!” Lirriel actually raised her voice at the monk, who was now staring wide-eyed at the normally reserved and controlled blond.

“I-I’m sorry, Priestess, we’ve checked the rolls, and the—well, we’ve looked—“

“Look again!”

The first thing the Warlock noticed was the smell.  It's not something one forgets.  It assailed her nostrils and the shock of it made her jerk hard on Shadowdust's reins and come to a grinding halt.
 
Inside the gates of the city, the smell only got stronger.  Celise's stomach rolled and she had to swallow hard to fight a wave of nausea.  She squeezed her eyes shut as visions of her Mother's last moments flashed before her.  It was all their fault, she thought.  And now they were here in the city.  And everywhere else.  Never good, and this time it was worse.

The Scourge swarmed about protecting the shard that was the base for their attacks. Taneel had noticed, with some confusion, that most of the attacks had been aimed, not at major cities of even towns but at taking more territory in secluded areas. He was unsure of the reason. But he supposed striking away from the cities was to draw them out and spread there forces, killing them peace meal. A plan that might have worked if they didn’t face so much animosity from the nations or the world, it might help it the undead were more observant too.

A peal of thunder woke Drauglos up. His eyes flashed open, staring at the ceiling. His sensitive ears, one of the few blessings his father had passed down to him, twitched in the darkness. After a few seconds had passed and he had ascertained there was no immediate threat, he closed his eyes again. In the distance, the cathedral's bells tolled somberly as if mourning the plight of the city. He counted the sounds. Four in the morning. He'd only been asleep a few hours. Lirriel lay alongside him in a fetal position, her limbs curled around his body. Her cheek rested on his chest, her warm breath delicate against his skin in her quiet slumber.

Lirriel drew up her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs as she watched Drauglos sleep. It didn’t seem like he’d stirred while she’d been downstairs. Waking in the middle of the night with her stomach reminding her she hadn’t eaten since noon had prompted a quick raid of the Gilded Rose’s kitchen. They’d come here when he had allowed a friend to recuperate from injuries—and apparent amnesia—in his apartment; the Cathedral was too crowded for more than immediate need cases, she supposed, and the young woman was awfully jumpy besides. The barracks weren’t exactly private. Lirriel’s place in Nagrand simply wasn’t practical with the need Stormwind had currently, nor was her room in the White Hart. And she wasn’t exactly ready to show up at her mother’s door in Elwynn like this.

Oh god.

Its back.  Its back, and the infection grows and my children....

Oh gods.

From the journal of Heidel Duskember Sunrunner:

It is an ill sky that broods above. A fittingly inauspicious omen for the insidious new invasion that has begun. My plans of announcing my wedding to Andrade are now impossible; a private ceremony will have to do for now, because anything larger would be sure to suffer an attack. Any large gathering sees an outbreak of this mysterious plague, so we will have to arrange a more fitting celebration of our shared joy when and if the emergency passes. For now, I will invite only a few close friends. For my part, I believe Teledriath and Artisania will be my guests. Perhaps Tylien as well, and Hallan and Alynesse. It will be quiet, and short, but hopefully full of joy.

(( Edit: Some strong language involved! Be warned. ))

There's something seriously wrong with the city.

I don't just mean the shambling walking corpses, the necropolis drooling above, not even the sudden dusky grayness that seems to have taken over while I was asleep. In fact, I'm not even talking about the guy that suddenly started yelling stupid shit periodically. Something about no escaping and shadows and Scourge and such.

No, what I'm talking about are the people. Now I thought that Beardie was kiddin' when he started talking 'bout being yelled at for cleansing. I mean sure, there's gonna be one or two...dozen cultists running around, that's just a given. Apocalypses have a way of bringing out the stupids. In fact, I's gettin' rich on a few of'em, the kind that starts sellin' things and acting like they gonna die any second now. Good business, that, and almost untraceable.

 Laughter filled the air as the fires burned on the plains of Mulgore.

 The Splithoof Tribe celebrated a succesfull hunt of one of the dangerous Thunderlizards near the border with the Barrens.

 The smell of roasting meat filled the air as the animal cooked over the fire, its hide strung out to cure at the edge of the small village.

 They celebrated around the fire, drinking and dancing. Amogayvhi was here among her people, smiling. Enjoying the cool air. She danced, garbed only in the kilt of a shaman, the women of the tribe topless as they danced around the fire.

 The celebration carried long into the night until finally most of the Splithoof Tribe retired to their tentish homes.

 Amogayvhi shared hers with a young female, an apprentice set to learn the way of the Shaman. She held the girl, barely into womanhood, as they slept together to ward against the chill of the night.

Tenth month, 24th day, of the....uuuh....current year.

Matthias Shaw groans and rubs his jaw tenderly, then works it to make sure it isn't broken. Staggering to his feet and leaning one hand against the wall to keep his balance, he yells at the back of the man walking to the door of his office, "Damn all Nialls to hell, anyway! I can't override a count!"

I know it’s not my fault.

I know I could second guess myself forever, wondering if I should have stayed or went, gone here or there.

I know it won’t make any difference in the end.

I know I didn’t kill Zeth’anz, nor did I let her down.

I just know I was too late.

I’m glad you’re all right, Mama, it’s been one fel of a day. Yeah, I can tell you what’s happening out there, but you’re not going to like it.

The Scourge has made sure we've remembered its presence.

I find it too much a coincidence this occurs now, during a holiday begun to celebrate Sylvanas' triumph in freeing so many undead from Arthas' cold grasp.

I had been in Outlands, running errands for the Shattered Sun as usual, hearing nothing of what was happening yet. Almost the instant I arrived in Stormwind to attend the Dragoon meeting, I realized something was wrong. The Argent Dawn banners and personnel were everywhere, and the crowds seemed particularly agitated.

The second day of the seventh month of the year 27

The assault is over at last. For the city that is; my personal battle is merely taking a brief respite. Of course, now my true duties start.

Anyone who has never experienced battle or war first hand never realizes that it doesn’t end when the enemy leaves the field. As horrible as the fighting itself is, it’s nothing compared to the aftermath. Even many who fight never see this; the have their memorial service, clean their weapons, repair their armor, and march to the next fight. Those of us in the “support” groups get to handle the rest.

{{ Posted 6/29/06 on Realmportal }}

The clock tolls three. It’s been another exhausting day. Delphiee is deep in a well-earned sleep and I… I sit in our only chair, my knees to my chest and hoping the sound of my weeping doesn’t disturb her.

This can’t go on…

{{ Posted 6/27/06 on Realmportal by Lorith }}

Kicking the door open, Lorith strode into the dim, candlelit room above the inn, her eyes already half-closed. Tanner followed, Timothy scooting in just as she kicked the door shut behind her. Going to the corner, she dropped her heavy bags on the floor, placed her axes on the table and propped her shotgun up in the corner.

The 24th day of the sixth month of the year 27

She said I slept for a week… another week gone from my life because of you…

There’s a simple solution to that…

Another week to get my endurance back because I had to fight you…

Again, there’s a solution…

And now… what am I? A vampire? A lich? I steal the heat and the Light from people… I have nothing to give… because I’m fighting with you…

Then stop fighting…

{{ NEW!! The long awaited conclusion to ... To Dream !!! }}

Ktar tried to keep himself calm even as his heart pounded in fear. Scourge were pouring into the Trade District and splitting into two groups. One was turning east toward the inn. The other went west, heading toward him; separating him from his daughter. He could only pray that Fiyonna, even further into the city, had found a place to hold until help came.

He quickly shifted to his feline form. He was more vulnerable in it, but he was counting more on speed and stealth to reach Sowelu.

I’m almost there, daughter. He spoke through the link they shared.

Hurry, was her only reply.

{{ Repost }}

{{ I was disappointed by the invasion, so I'm going to go ahead and post Sowelu's dream. It's in parts and I'm sorry it's taking so long to write. }}

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Light my soul to keep,

If I should die before I wake,

I pray the Light my soul to take...

General Marcus Jonathon cursed (under his breath of course; no one would ever hear anything crass from his lips) as he thundered down the causeway to the knot of men struggling with the great gates. The bells of Stormwind began sounding the alarm as he abruptly pulled up.