During the darker winter months an icy rain frequently fell upon the Tirisfal Glades. Biting frigid waters from the north were drawn down along the coast of the Eastern Kingdoms, bringing with them howling frigid rains. In the wake of such rain, layers of ice easily formed upon everything it touched - adding a sort of mythical beauty to the now twisted landscape. Most Forsaken who endured patrols and or were station in the Glades had to take extra special care to avoid undesirable conditions such as fungal infection brought on by the moist conditions, frozen limbs, and various other necrosis.
The weather only compounded the bitter attitudes of the Deathguards stationed in the Glades. As it were, brutality was easy to provoke, and what hopes for mercy any living might have was cast aside during such unsavory conditions. Under the burden of the freezing rain, much of the fighting force ached for an excuse to unleash their ire upon any target that so warranted their malice.
So when a single human male, of great age made his way along the roads toward the Bulwark - it was only too soon for the otherwise mild if not curious matter to turn into blood sport...
Diminished in stature, and clearly made frail with age what sport was there in beating an old man? None. More so, it took the guards but a moment to note the presence of a great many of holy symbols on his robes to decide it was wises not to meddle with one who wielded the Light. It would be far more amusing to allow for the old man to pass, and then summon a Lightslayer…
It was during the still early morning hours, when the sun had not yet risen, that Deathstalker #1971U received word of the captive. A low ranking Deathstalker had received a report, and headed into the field to find his superior. Riding out on a skeletal Warhorse, the lone messenger swiftly rode south into the Silverpine Forest along the main road. It was the Forward Command that he found Superior.
For a moment there was a touch of confusion between the two of them, and the words exchanged between them flowed at a rapid pace: Why was the ArchBishop captive? How did HE get into the Glades? What do you mean he peacefully surrendered? What do you mean that one of the Lightslayers in my Order captured him?! Where is he now?!
Of the Orders barked first was a direct and clear one, “Do not touch him, do not torture him. We will not make a martyr of a man seeking suicide. More so, for the love of Shadow don’t let the Labs get a hold of him!” Hunting Worgen would have to wait, as there was something far more pressing at hand.
Serata: I am desperately stalling and trying to find something to do with myself at work. Posted a bunch of stuff about Sherbourne so y'all know who she is and what she looks like...and I still have 4 1/2 hours left before I can go home and play again. T_T
Aug 31, 2016 6:28:52 GMT
Banshih: Yay for stalling? Yay for rp campaign starting soon!
Sept 12, 2016 23:04:21 GMT
Banshih: Thanks for another great Dance Of The Dead!
Oct 27, 2016 12:23:26 GMT