Forsaken dramarama, cont'd
Time to get these things archived before they disappear off the forums.
From just after the wedding and attack:
Simayi sank down into his usual chair at the Wizard's Sanctum. A half-smile crossed his face as he absent-mindedly thumbed at the wedding invitation in his pocket.
It had been a wedding to remember.
During the ceremony, Simayi stalked about, evaluating the guards, and vantage points from which to quickly strike. As an undead priestess droned on in the unintelligible tongue of the Horde, his powers of perception alerted him to a Tauren Druid, stealthed and shadowing his every move.
It was then that a horrifying transformation overcame the human mage. He took on the form of an undead skeleton - an affliction that troubled him from time to time after he had once misused certain dark magic. While this transformation drew screams and guards in Stormwind, here in the Ruins of Lordaeron he became one of the crowd. But still, the Tauren Druid shadowed his every move.
Simayi smelled a trap, but, smiling, realized that it would not matter.
A promise had been made to Anmorata, Undina's human confidante, to not disrupt the ceremony, to allow Thrage and Undina to join as one, to let them have at least one moment of unified joy.
He kept that promise. In a way.
As soon as Thrage and Undina locked their undead lips together to celebrate their union, Simayi reached into his robes and drank an invisibility potion that he had purchased especially for the occasion. He then snuck up the stairs to the wedding altar, summoned all of his arcane power, and unleased a fireball quickly followed by a Pyroblast.
Thrage, protected only by his tuxedo, collapsed to the ground, a smouldering pile of undead flesh.
Chaos quickly erupted. Simayi's Druid guard struck a few blows, but the mage quickly blinked to the entrance, and followed the wall around to the corner of the ruins, watching his pursuers foolishly run down the road towards Brill.
He stopped to rest, and after the skeleton affliction faded from him, he experienced a moment of regret. Had he done the right thing?
Simayi vainly yelled apologies to Undina and begged her to contact Anmorata. Over the din surrounding the Undercity gates, he heard yelling that vaguely resembled her voice. But it was of no use. Even if Simayi cast the magic necessary to communicate with Undina, she would be in no mood to listen to reason. Time to leave this forsaken land.
While casting a teleport, Simayi was almost ambushed by a troll rogue, but fortunately for the mage the troll was a step too slow.
Snapping back from his reflections, Simayi realizes what he is touching and pulls out the invitation. Shaking his head, he casts a minor spell and burns it.
Suddenly realizing his Gnomish WorldDefence Beeper has been going off steadily, the mage sighs.
After everything that has transpired over the past week, I grew weary of the senseless bloodshed which kept emerging throughout Azeroth.
The Crossroads, Splintertree, and of course, Tarren Mill would be attacked and the Horde would be screaming for blood. My men and I would rush in as if we had thought ourselves to be Noble Crusaders or sorts. How repulsive a notion!
My Regulators, as well as their mounts, are exhausted from running to far away lands for all of these skirmishes.
I pull a heavy swig of rum that I liberated from a recently deceased pirate. I then chase it with a quick inhale of...what was it...Eternal Essence I think. Can't remember. Everything is a swirling haze. Making a mental note, I remind myself to find more Nether Essence for my hidden vice.
I was not invited, but I decided I wanted to witness the marraige of Thrage and Undina. How could I have been so Naive to think that the festivities at the Undercity would not go unharrassed? The entire ceremony was a blur as my senses and conscious was spiraling from the effects of the rum, and the essence.
Things seemed downright cordial amongst the guests. Everyone was laughing at Gruunk's antics, and Mahley seemed a little flustered at the exhuberance of the crowd.
Vexxa gave the lovers a poetic benediction and they kissed.
Something seemed strange in my blurring mind. At first my friends and I thought some goblin pyrotechnics wizard had outdone himself with a massive fireworks display, but then we realized what had happened; someone had slain Thrage.
I commanded my men that were in attendance to mount up and find the b*st*rd responsible for felling Thrage.
Some shouted that it was a mage who was responsible, so I ordered them to follow me. Before I knew it, we were taking down a human in the courtyard who I couldn't see clearly. No....that's not him....too broad to be a spellcaster......it's Khai and Elysmir! We hit the wrong ones! There is a flash of both realization and sobriety as a chill somehow washes over my brain. What have I done? They weren't attacking!
I hear Mahley shout out something along the lines of, "this is a hunt for one mage, let us not turn this into a Witch hunt."
I hear myself shouting, but with the essence tainted adrenaline, it is as if I am not in control of my own voice: "Get the remaining humans to surrender, or they will be treated as enemies and killed on sight!"
After everything had settled down to some degree, we rode off to find answers. I know of a troll hunter named Richter who can track almost anybody. He'll find this, Simayi, as I recalled Undina saying his identity.
At this point, I am trying to choke back tears of shame: "Good work, old priest." I think to myself. "You are still a fool, catastrophe always follows you, and now those you hold dear will know your true nature." At this point, I'm hoping that this mage will destroy another Forsaken before the day is over.
Simayi Found a note nailed to the door of his quarters, a dagger punched through the fine wood of the door.
"Simayi:
Your actions have violated the very sanctity of the union of Marriage. You have sewn discord and ruin into friendly relations, and you have shown yourself a coward by strikign at the unarmed.
More Importantly, by your actions, you sullied the reputations of every Allaince soldier present at that Ceremony. You may have escaped, but many of us barely made it away with our lives, quite injured. The Blood of the Alliance soaks that courtyard, and the weapons of its defenders.
You are a Direct Enemy of the Peace of Azeroth, and an agent of Discord and malice through these lands. In the Name of the Argent Dawn, I order you to come quietly and sumbit yourself to a Tribunal. You, too, are a soldier of the Dawn, and I expect either your Resignation from it or your compliance in this matter.
- Lady Elsymir Christelblood, Soldier of the Silver Hand, Revered Champion of the Argent Dawn"
The dwarf hurried down the path leading to Simayi's adopted home deep in the mountains of Dun Morogh. Huffing and puffing, he began banging on the slab of rock barricading the entrance, hoping to the Light that he would be heard.
Suddenly Simayi appeared before him, face concealed by the deep shadow of his hood. The dwarf hesitantly held out a folded piece of parchment.
"Archmage, a note for you. It was nailed to the door of your quarters in Stormwind. Otherwise, there was no sign of any traps or suspicious activity."
The mage accepted the letter, gave the dwarf a few silver for his trouble, and vanished back into his home.
Simayi couldn't help but smile with pleasure at the title used to address him. Archmage. He had waited so long to achieve that title. Finally he had completed his Robe, finally he had learned all he could from his old teachers. While the Wizard's Sanctum would not allow him to be a teacher himself or to vote on Council matters, they could not deny that he was now their equal in magical ability. That was all Simayi wanted from them - their begrudging respect.
The events of the previous day had been many. The attack on Thrage, easily escaping the pursuing Horde in Tirisfal, battling Horde strikes on Refuge Point, Sentinel Hill, and even the gates of Stormwind itself. Not to mention confronting Thrage and Undina in that cursed house in Goldshire. Simayi shook his head. Unbelievable they would return there, mere days after Thrage had attacked civilians in the same place.
A twinge of sadness hit the Archmage. It had been too bad that things had to be this way, that a cure could not be found. Undina seemed quite . . . human for an undead, and Thrage's past reputation was such that many fools turn a blind eye to his current crimes, preferring to blissfully think of him as the happy-go-lucky Undead minstrel, charmer of all. A firm grip on reality seemed to be a scarcity for many in the Alliance these days, the mage dryly noted to himself.
Another strange event had been his chance meeting with a young elven druid - Cruxis. Apparently this young one had been made the scapegoat for the tainting of the Twilight Grove moonwell, and had been banished from Darnassus. Simayi sighed. He resolved to help this young one as much as he could, though Cruxis was understandbly hostile. Things were bad enough with the Horde as it was - Simayi did not want the Alliance itself to start to splinter. "Blasted Staghelm," he muttered as he sat down at his desk.
Simayi opened the parchment, noting with a frown the large dagger cut in the middle of it - a frown that grew larger as he realized his prized Feralasian door in Stormwind was now damaged.
After reading the letter, Simayi leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, a faint smile crossing his face. Elsymir. Her blind dedication to peace and rigid adherence to protocol had usually been a source of annoyance to Simayi, but this time they would prove to be quite useful.
Simayi's eyes flashed open as he leaned forward, taking up pen and parchment and writing purposefully and confidently.
"Hail Elsymir:
First, I am pleased to see that you are in health good enough to write after the events of yesterday. I did not expect the Horde to so savagely attack the other Alliance guests in attendance. An unfortunate and unnecessary result to an unfortunately necessary action. Please send me the bill for any armor repair costs you incurred.
I would be honoured to present my version of events before an Argent Dawn tribunal, on two conditions - that the list of the tribunes be submitted to me beforehand, and that the date be chosen in consultation with me. For example, you seem to have already condemned me before even hearing the whole story. I would hope the Argent Dawn, an order of which I am a proud member, would try to be as impartial as possible until all the facts are presented.
I have to admit, I was surprised to see you in the Ruins, Elsymir - I would have thought one so opposed to the Undead would have only been there with an Alliance army.
Til that time,
Archmage Simayi, Master Sergeant of the Alliance Army, Honoured Soldier of the Argent Dawn."
Yes, he thought to himself. This tribunal would be very useful indeed.
Arcane power suddenly and inexplicably surged throughout Simayi's body, causing dark electricity to pulsate around him. Simayi stood up slowly, revelling in the pure joy of power, drinking it all in.
"Archmage," he said aloud to himself, closing his eyes. "Archmage."
From just after the wedding and attack:
Simayi sank down into his usual chair at the Wizard's Sanctum. A half-smile crossed his face as he absent-mindedly thumbed at the wedding invitation in his pocket.
It had been a wedding to remember.
During the ceremony, Simayi stalked about, evaluating the guards, and vantage points from which to quickly strike. As an undead priestess droned on in the unintelligible tongue of the Horde, his powers of perception alerted him to a Tauren Druid, stealthed and shadowing his every move.
It was then that a horrifying transformation overcame the human mage. He took on the form of an undead skeleton - an affliction that troubled him from time to time after he had once misused certain dark magic. While this transformation drew screams and guards in Stormwind, here in the Ruins of Lordaeron he became one of the crowd. But still, the Tauren Druid shadowed his every move.
Simayi smelled a trap, but, smiling, realized that it would not matter.
A promise had been made to Anmorata, Undina's human confidante, to not disrupt the ceremony, to allow Thrage and Undina to join as one, to let them have at least one moment of unified joy.
He kept that promise. In a way.
As soon as Thrage and Undina locked their undead lips together to celebrate their union, Simayi reached into his robes and drank an invisibility potion that he had purchased especially for the occasion. He then snuck up the stairs to the wedding altar, summoned all of his arcane power, and unleased a fireball quickly followed by a Pyroblast.
Thrage, protected only by his tuxedo, collapsed to the ground, a smouldering pile of undead flesh.
Chaos quickly erupted. Simayi's Druid guard struck a few blows, but the mage quickly blinked to the entrance, and followed the wall around to the corner of the ruins, watching his pursuers foolishly run down the road towards Brill.
He stopped to rest, and after the skeleton affliction faded from him, he experienced a moment of regret. Had he done the right thing?
Simayi vainly yelled apologies to Undina and begged her to contact Anmorata. Over the din surrounding the Undercity gates, he heard yelling that vaguely resembled her voice. But it was of no use. Even if Simayi cast the magic necessary to communicate with Undina, she would be in no mood to listen to reason. Time to leave this forsaken land.
While casting a teleport, Simayi was almost ambushed by a troll rogue, but fortunately for the mage the troll was a step too slow.
Snapping back from his reflections, Simayi realizes what he is touching and pulls out the invitation. Shaking his head, he casts a minor spell and burns it.
Suddenly realizing his Gnomish WorldDefence Beeper has been going off steadily, the mage sighs.
After everything that has transpired over the past week, I grew weary of the senseless bloodshed which kept emerging throughout Azeroth.
The Crossroads, Splintertree, and of course, Tarren Mill would be attacked and the Horde would be screaming for blood. My men and I would rush in as if we had thought ourselves to be Noble Crusaders or sorts. How repulsive a notion!
My Regulators, as well as their mounts, are exhausted from running to far away lands for all of these skirmishes.
I pull a heavy swig of rum that I liberated from a recently deceased pirate. I then chase it with a quick inhale of...what was it...Eternal Essence I think. Can't remember. Everything is a swirling haze. Making a mental note, I remind myself to find more Nether Essence for my hidden vice.
I was not invited, but I decided I wanted to witness the marraige of Thrage and Undina. How could I have been so Naive to think that the festivities at the Undercity would not go unharrassed? The entire ceremony was a blur as my senses and conscious was spiraling from the effects of the rum, and the essence.
Things seemed downright cordial amongst the guests. Everyone was laughing at Gruunk's antics, and Mahley seemed a little flustered at the exhuberance of the crowd.
Vexxa gave the lovers a poetic benediction and they kissed.
Something seemed strange in my blurring mind. At first my friends and I thought some goblin pyrotechnics wizard had outdone himself with a massive fireworks display, but then we realized what had happened; someone had slain Thrage.
I commanded my men that were in attendance to mount up and find the b*st*rd responsible for felling Thrage.
Some shouted that it was a mage who was responsible, so I ordered them to follow me. Before I knew it, we were taking down a human in the courtyard who I couldn't see clearly. No....that's not him....too broad to be a spellcaster......it's Khai and Elysmir! We hit the wrong ones! There is a flash of both realization and sobriety as a chill somehow washes over my brain. What have I done? They weren't attacking!
I hear Mahley shout out something along the lines of, "this is a hunt for one mage, let us not turn this into a Witch hunt."
I hear myself shouting, but with the essence tainted adrenaline, it is as if I am not in control of my own voice: "Get the remaining humans to surrender, or they will be treated as enemies and killed on sight!"
After everything had settled down to some degree, we rode off to find answers. I know of a troll hunter named Richter who can track almost anybody. He'll find this, Simayi, as I recalled Undina saying his identity.
At this point, I am trying to choke back tears of shame: "Good work, old priest." I think to myself. "You are still a fool, catastrophe always follows you, and now those you hold dear will know your true nature." At this point, I'm hoping that this mage will destroy another Forsaken before the day is over.
Simayi Found a note nailed to the door of his quarters, a dagger punched through the fine wood of the door.
"Simayi:
Your actions have violated the very sanctity of the union of Marriage. You have sewn discord and ruin into friendly relations, and you have shown yourself a coward by strikign at the unarmed.
More Importantly, by your actions, you sullied the reputations of every Allaince soldier present at that Ceremony. You may have escaped, but many of us barely made it away with our lives, quite injured. The Blood of the Alliance soaks that courtyard, and the weapons of its defenders.
You are a Direct Enemy of the Peace of Azeroth, and an agent of Discord and malice through these lands. In the Name of the Argent Dawn, I order you to come quietly and sumbit yourself to a Tribunal. You, too, are a soldier of the Dawn, and I expect either your Resignation from it or your compliance in this matter.
- Lady Elsymir Christelblood, Soldier of the Silver Hand, Revered Champion of the Argent Dawn"
The dwarf hurried down the path leading to Simayi's adopted home deep in the mountains of Dun Morogh. Huffing and puffing, he began banging on the slab of rock barricading the entrance, hoping to the Light that he would be heard.
Suddenly Simayi appeared before him, face concealed by the deep shadow of his hood. The dwarf hesitantly held out a folded piece of parchment.
"Archmage, a note for you. It was nailed to the door of your quarters in Stormwind. Otherwise, there was no sign of any traps or suspicious activity."
The mage accepted the letter, gave the dwarf a few silver for his trouble, and vanished back into his home.
Simayi couldn't help but smile with pleasure at the title used to address him. Archmage. He had waited so long to achieve that title. Finally he had completed his Robe, finally he had learned all he could from his old teachers. While the Wizard's Sanctum would not allow him to be a teacher himself or to vote on Council matters, they could not deny that he was now their equal in magical ability. That was all Simayi wanted from them - their begrudging respect.
The events of the previous day had been many. The attack on Thrage, easily escaping the pursuing Horde in Tirisfal, battling Horde strikes on Refuge Point, Sentinel Hill, and even the gates of Stormwind itself. Not to mention confronting Thrage and Undina in that cursed house in Goldshire. Simayi shook his head. Unbelievable they would return there, mere days after Thrage had attacked civilians in the same place.
A twinge of sadness hit the Archmage. It had been too bad that things had to be this way, that a cure could not be found. Undina seemed quite . . . human for an undead, and Thrage's past reputation was such that many fools turn a blind eye to his current crimes, preferring to blissfully think of him as the happy-go-lucky Undead minstrel, charmer of all. A firm grip on reality seemed to be a scarcity for many in the Alliance these days, the mage dryly noted to himself.
Another strange event had been his chance meeting with a young elven druid - Cruxis. Apparently this young one had been made the scapegoat for the tainting of the Twilight Grove moonwell, and had been banished from Darnassus. Simayi sighed. He resolved to help this young one as much as he could, though Cruxis was understandbly hostile. Things were bad enough with the Horde as it was - Simayi did not want the Alliance itself to start to splinter. "Blasted Staghelm," he muttered as he sat down at his desk.
Simayi opened the parchment, noting with a frown the large dagger cut in the middle of it - a frown that grew larger as he realized his prized Feralasian door in Stormwind was now damaged.
After reading the letter, Simayi leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, a faint smile crossing his face. Elsymir. Her blind dedication to peace and rigid adherence to protocol had usually been a source of annoyance to Simayi, but this time they would prove to be quite useful.
Simayi's eyes flashed open as he leaned forward, taking up pen and parchment and writing purposefully and confidently.
"Hail Elsymir:
First, I am pleased to see that you are in health good enough to write after the events of yesterday. I did not expect the Horde to so savagely attack the other Alliance guests in attendance. An unfortunate and unnecessary result to an unfortunately necessary action. Please send me the bill for any armor repair costs you incurred.
I would be honoured to present my version of events before an Argent Dawn tribunal, on two conditions - that the list of the tribunes be submitted to me beforehand, and that the date be chosen in consultation with me. For example, you seem to have already condemned me before even hearing the whole story. I would hope the Argent Dawn, an order of which I am a proud member, would try to be as impartial as possible until all the facts are presented.
I have to admit, I was surprised to see you in the Ruins, Elsymir - I would have thought one so opposed to the Undead would have only been there with an Alliance army.
Til that time,
Archmage Simayi, Master Sergeant of the Alliance Army, Honoured Soldier of the Argent Dawn."
Yes, he thought to himself. This tribunal would be very useful indeed.
Arcane power suddenly and inexplicably surged throughout Simayi's body, causing dark electricity to pulsate around him. Simayi stood up slowly, revelling in the pure joy of power, drinking it all in.
"Archmage," he said aloud to himself, closing his eyes. "Archmage."