Ex-Officer of mine. Can’t speak highly enough of Kai, a GM with mounds of potential and will most definitely give you the best experience he can. Whether it be campaigns or a Ginvite, give this many a consideration. You won’t be disappointed.
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Cool peeps if you like that sort of thing. Good luck with your guild dudes and dudettes! ^-^ Mwah
PS Kai is awsum
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Been looking at all you’ve been doing recently on Argent Archive and all.
I really like the concept of penal legions and the kind of RP it can give.
You guys seem like a great bunch and if I had time for alts i’d defo consider this guild.
Wishing you a lot of success xoxo
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These guys are an exceptionally fun bunch to be around!
If you’re a reprobate like them and want a friendly envoirment to be in, you should join them!
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I’ve been around this guild for a few days during a server event, and i can say they are an amazing group to be with. Interesting characters, funny to be around and enjoyable company. OOC also never had a cause of complain, i would advertise this guild to anyone.
I hope your guild lives long and retains this sort of quality and chemistry! Best of wishes!
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Wow guys, all this praise will make Kaibyrne blush! ![:hugs:](https://d1bg94bbsh66ji.cloudfront.net/en/wow/images/emoji/twitter/hugs.png?v=6" ":hugs:")
Thanks for the kind words.
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I was saving my post in case I had a story or report to post but…
I am astonished to everyone’s kind words, thank you so much and know that I feel the same way about you all, fine folk all around!
Kaibyrne Blushes an embarrassing shade of red…
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Absolutely loving it. If I ever have a character fitting the guild’s narrative, I will surely chime in.
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We’re getting too much of a good rep, time for one of the convicts or a deadbeat to stab someone. This shall not stand! We are not good people! Do not like us! Hate us! We are the scum of the earth! The worst criminals on Azeroth! I’ll shiv you!
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Shush, it’s okay friend. We can bond over roasting orcs on a pyre.
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The Twelfth’s campfire in Feathermoon Stronghold flickered brightly and everlasting throughout the night. A lone soldier sat near the fire, warming himself in the chilly Feralas nights. His bald head signalled to anyone who knew the company that it was Boz. The light reflecting off of the tree behind him, emphasizing the outline of his body.
While looking around the camp for any signs of people waking up, he cautiously fiddled with a sharp rock and a piece of wood. For two nights he had been working on this now. Two full watches spent on this project rather than actually standing guard and keeping everyone safe. The only thing that caused him to divert his gaze from his project was occasional movement at the bedrolls closest to the fire.
Now, on the third night he was adding the finishing touches, Boz had cut the branch to perfectly fit the palm of his hand. It took him four different branches but finally he had found a piece of wood the right size for his hand: a shiv. That was his project. Something of his own. It was his only possession.
He had felt naked ever since the captain took away his swords. “Too dangerous for a deadbeat” the captain had said. Boz had brushed it away, saying he didn’t need weapons but man had he felt good handling swords again, albeit temporarily. It had given him confidence, a feeling of freedom, the demotion wasn’t the first time his freedom had been taken from him. His rebellious side had cost him a lot already within the company, but he had promised himself he wouldn’t just roll over and do whatever the officers told him to do. He wanted to stay himself. He’d rather die like a true Collins than live the life of a tin can who salutes on command and wipes the captain’s butt after licking it clean with his filthy traitorous tongue.
Boz whispered to himself from time to time during the creation process, letting out a quick “that should do it” as he pushed the arrowhead into the evenly cut and smoothly polished cylinder. The T-shaped split at the end of the branch fit the arrowedhead like a glove.
He pulled the arrowhead back out of the split and retrieved some hardened resin from his pocket, placing it in a spoon above the fire until it turned liquid, then he carefully poured the liquid into the T-split and put the arrowhead back in with a firm shove. It obviously wasn’t his first shiv, definetly wouldn’t be his last either.
He retrieved the last part required for his shiv: a long piece of mageweave thread, strong and firm. He applied it just below the arrowhead, applying tension to the thin thread as best as possible without making a sound.
To hide the weapon, he attached it to the strap he’d added to the inside of his belt. Pleased with himself, he thought: “this will easily cut an orc’s throat, or a captain’s, if needed.”
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I’d like that.
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Surprisingly wholesome interaction here.
Great story Boz, can’t wait to get stabbed in the back IC
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The Ship listed and rolled in the rough sea, the lamp swayed, scattering shadows across the walls.
It was the dead of night, and after some negotiation with the ship’s Captain, Anna had been permitted to barricade herself into the brig. Deep in the bowels of the ship, it’s heavy iron door and walls affording her the privacy she so desperately needed.
Perched on a stool with a bucket stood upon the floor, held fast between her feet to stop it toppling, Anna sat with her elbows braced on her knees. The top half of her armor removed and lying on the small sleeping cot provided, a half empty bottle of rum lay corked upon the floor.
Anna blinked slowly. Cool sweat drenched her brow and the sweet tang of alcohol clung to her breath. She was glad of it, its scent masked the foul stench of the damp rot of the brig and rancid bucket before her.
She remembered the first time she’d had to do this. How the pain and stench had left her requiring two buckets, the second to catch the vomit and bile purged from her stomach. In some ways it had got easier over the years, rules regarding alcohol on duty blatantly ignored, learning how to drink to her limits, far enough gone to dull the senses, not so far as to render herself incapable.
The ship rocked harshly, the waves outside mimicked by the surface of the bucket as it lapped against the pail. A sickly black mixture in the lamp lights shadows, blood and water frothed, whilst every now and then, the pale mishapen lumps of skin and flesh rolled to the surface only to sink once more.
Anna looked blearily around the brig. The walls and doors showed signs of her work, but the floor bore the brunt of it. Dark blood, smeared and sticky clung to the floorboards, already drying, although in truth she had no idea how long she had been there.
It was necessary. Her early years on the front had taught her that. A team of Orcish grunts had breached their outpost in Arathi. The fighting had been fierce but they had held their ground, at least until the forsaken Pyromancer arrived. She could still smell the stench of the Corporal as he cooked, broiled in his own fat, unable to escape his chain link armour that had bonded to his melting flesh, the screams of soldiers trapped in armour too hot to touch, unable to remove it, fire that clung to skin and would not go out. She had survived by the good timing of an extraction team, though there were those that it was just too late for.
Whilst she recovered, she had been left hideously scarred, her face and throat burned down to muscle and sinew, healed in a cross-web of butchered scars, that spread from ear to nose and collarbone, not to mention engulfing the right side of her torso. She had been left hideously misshapen.
It was before she was fit to return to the front, but well enough to be of some use, she had been put to work as a mender. The panic and fear her patients had shown on her first approach had said everything, and it had only taken a quick glance in a mirror to see why.
When a patient arrived in the infirmary they were already in pain, disorientated, and fearful. Being approached by a healer who showed such horrific visible scarring only escalated a patient’s fear, not reassure them, left them panicked, not compliant. Anna had spoken to the other menders. There was a way, they had told her, but it was desperately painful, to cut away the scar and rebuild flesh anew. It was not typically practiced, considered both too vast a drain upon the menders strength, and not necessary for the survival of the patient.
Anna disagreed.
And so it was she looked down at her hand and forearm, the already freshly repaired flesh visible by only new raw shades of pink, but scars waiting to be tended remained. Skin blood drenched from the hours before, the shredded teethmarks twisted where the wolves maw had been torn free.
Anna reached up, positioning the strap if the leather belt between her teeth once more, she tightened and fastened the buckle around the back of her head. Her breath coming in quick sharp bursts as she prepared herself, the light glowing against the edge of the blade as she lined it up with the next twisted scar that marred her flesh.
Outside the door of the Brig, the Captain leaned back on his chair, swinging the keys around his finger, as the muffled screams began once more.
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Kaibyrne Gladstone Personal Log - Fifth Entry
As the Valiant rocks from side to side my bowels rock with it, some days as I send my head overboard to dispose of the bile in my throat I am tempted to let the rolling, vicious waters take me, end my torment aboard this wooden, rat infested prison. That wouldn’t solve anything however, in fact that would cause more harm than good, my heart sinks thinking of the consequences of such a selfish act so instead I pray, pray and drink water.
The Deployment to Feralas has finally come to an end, sat most of it out due to getting shot again, it’s starting to become a bad habit and a painful one at that. Even now if I stretch in a certain way I feel as if I have been ripped in two, I need to be careful. Most of the others have emerged unscathed, most. Hollins has suffered from some mental scarring due to an illusion of some sort, details are sketchy but I have had him seen to by a Priestess and Detective Sergeant Ridge will visit to ensure he recovers fully. Thornton has received fel burns alongside Goldenfield, both of which seem to be healing fine. Although nobody has seen Thornton as of late and I heard screams from the brig late at night…
We return to glorious Westbrook, I already have two more files on my desk, souls picked for recruitment by our glorious Major, I’ll get them suited and booted, put them through Basic, it’s the deployments that separate the men from the boys, not me telling them about how to light a bloody fire. The Major has been on my back about not patrolling the roads near Westbrook, something about the guard being stretched too thin, I’ll have to lead these louts through Elwynn forest sometime soon, I wish the ole bull would march them around his bloody self…
Signed
Kaibyrne Gladstone.
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Anna leaned back on the chair, her pack on the floor beside her at the mess hall table. The parchment curled at the edges where it was pinned by inkwell at one end, her hand resting against the edge nearest her, holding it flat. Rolling the quill between her fingers she considered her words.
In truth it wasn’t unusual for her to be away for so long, however being confined to the grounds of the Garrison made matters somewhat more awkward. Shaking her head she dipped the quill into the ink and began to write in an elegant flowing script.
Dear Mister Barlowe,
I trust this letter finds you well, I am writing to you concerning the matter of my personal apartments and effects therin. As I informed you at our last meeting, I have returned from Service in Kul’tiras alongside the Seventh, under the banner of the Fifteenth, and taken up a voluntary posting with the Twelfth Penal Company.
As such, I am not permitted to leave the grounds of Westbrook Garrison, so I am afraid I must intrude upon your assistance once again. Please contact Masters Fairfax and Stone, attorneys of my estate whilst I am away, to ensure payment is released to Madam Hartford for maintenance, another to be released to the Abbey for continued occupation of the apartments themselves, and to yourself good sir for continuing in your exceptional aid and service during my absences. I shall also contact them directly to ensure they are expecting you.
There are a few personal effects I wish shipped to Westbrook Garrison as my stay is to be further extended than I anticipated, I had hoped to return and retrieve them myself, but no matter. Please arrange for the following to be shipped at your earliest convenience;
From the study; My copy of “Payton’s Surgical Anatomy of Races”, The Leather Satchel beside the desk containing my full surgical kit, and if it is to hand, “Alliances and Allies; A History” for a little light reading.
From the Kitchen; The cupboard to the right of the furnace contains approximately three weeks of Ration-Packs, these are essential, I suspect I shall tear the tastebuds from my own tongue if I have to force down another portion of the vile nutri-paste offered to the unit.
From my Private Rooms; Three fresh shirts and, though it pains me to ask you to go through my particulars, but if you or your lady-wife would mind selecting some suitable underwear I would be most grateful. I had hoped being so near the city I would have opportunity to return and pack what I required. I would also appreciate if some fresh soap could be dispatched as well.
And finally, from the supply store; though in ideal circumstances I would be able to take everything with me, for now I shall settle for four items.
The first the ‘Dragon’s Tear’ Antidote, a crystal vial on a shelf to the upper right, the liquid is clear but has a thin mist swirling in the bottleneck above the surface.
Secondly a squat earthenware pot, roughly the width of a hand, sat at eye height directly ahead as you enter the store, sealed with a cork it is a Silverleaf and Mountain Sage Poultice, distinct for its yellow-grass colouring and pungent smell.
To the left nearer the floor is a Tin sealed with tar. For the love of all that is holy, do not open it. It is a powder of ghost-mushroom, a powerful gastric purgative.
Finally, Set on the floor is a clear jar containing what will appear to be tea-leaves. It is infact a preparation of Stranglekelp and Adder’s tongue to aid sea-sickness, let us hope I do not run out before I have opportunity to source the ingredients for more.
Lastly if you could arrange a bouquet of Arthas’ tears and my Condolences to be delivered to the Widow of Officer Alastor Briggs of the Alliance Navy, along with a small fund to be donated towards the education of their boys.
As always my thanks and good wishes are extended to yourself and your good wife.
Light Guide,
Anna-Bellise Thornton.
Anna set down the quill, re-reading the letter, nodding to herself. It vexed her to hear of the death of Alastor Briggs, he had been good to her when they had sailed together, particularly that he had been lost to the hand of a woman who now served alongside her in the Twelfth, denying knowing him to be an officer, claiming to believe him a Pirate in a “Fancy Hat”.
Anna seethed, Alastor had been one of the most patriotic and upstanding Officers she had known, even when he had been only a Petty Officer and Quartermaster he had done all he could to ensure those upon the ships had some comforts of home before heading into war. It rankled that she now had to perform her duties alongside his murderess. But then this path she had chosen was never meant to be easy, what differentiated one murderer from another, other than her own knowledge of the victim?
Packing away her ink and quill she snatched up the letter and stalked off into the keep to find someone who was permitted to leave the grounds to deliver it.
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Nith had been escorted from the Stockades by Captain Kaibyrne, it wasn’t her favorite ever journey, although it probably was up there as one of the more memorable as she was dressed in little more than rag undergarments when she left her cell, and additional clothing didn’t seem to have been foremost on the Captains mind has he led her through the busy streets of Stormwind towards her new home.
The weather had not been kind either, as it had decided to rain heavily as they made their way through Elywnn forest, the sharp stones of the road dug into Niths bare feet and the rain had soaked her to the skin, the only upside she could find was at least the rain was washing away some of the filth on her body and making her smell a little less bad.
After a time they had finally arrived at Westbrook Garrison, the Captain had led her up to the gates where she had been met by some of the others of the Twelfth, again it wasn’t the first best impression to make, arriving in soaked rags, stinking like a sewer rat and probably looking like one too, but it was dark by the time they arrived so maybe they didn’t notice to much.
She was finally led into an armoury and allowed to select some armour and a bow, there wasn’t much choice to be made, many of the mail suits were several sizes too big for her small and slender elven frame, she thought the garrison probably had not seen many elvish recruits.
But she finally found something that would just about fit her and it was going to be an improvement on the rags she currently had so she went and changed and decided to make the best of things.
She and the other recruits had then been assembled outside the Garrison by the Captain, and after a brief inspection and a short question and answer session, where Nith had asked a number of questions from the Captain, he seemed a little put out by that which Nith thought as strange as why ask if there were any questions if you didn’t actually want people asking. She guessed she would get to know peoples strange quirks as time went on, it was after all just the first evening.
The company was then dismissed by the Captain and told to go clean up, Nith had been hoping for a nice hot bath after her time in the Stockades, unfortunately if there was a bath at the Garrison it appeared to be off limits to the normal grunts, and the washing facility turned out to be the nearby river which in winter was certainly at a bracing temperature. But as it was all there was and Nith was not staying filthy and smelly any longer, so she took the chance to wash herself and finally smell clean.
On the return to the Garrison she had been able to talk more to some of the others, and share a meal with them. The food was not overly exciting, bread and some form of tinned beans, she had never had tinned beans before but she could only liken them to what it might be like eating small slugs in sauce. But she ate it all as after the odd piece of stale bread and moldy cheese that she had been getting the last few weeks anything was going to taste better.
She had learned a number of things during her conversations, things that Captain Kaibyrne had not really explained to her before she signed the recruitment papers. One was that it appeared you didn’t actually get paid at all for being in the regiment and two was that you also didn’t get any days off either, and the final one was you were not permitted to leave the Garrison, you were expected to stay in the building and only venture outside as far as the river and the road, she was a little shocked by this as when she signed up she expected it to be more like the mercenary company she had served with, where she could come and go as she liked when not on a campaign and spend the coin she had earned on things she wanted.
She had slept well during the night, even the rough hard mattress of her bunk had felt like luxury compared to the hard wood plank bed of the Stockades.
The following morning had seemed better, the sun had been out and she had sat outside for a while remembering the forests around Silvermoon, at times it almost felt like she had been back there.
By mid morning she had met the regiments chaplin, a woman by the name of Anna, she had been given a tour of the Garrison by her, although half way through when in the upper areas they were found by the Captain and told in no uncertain terms they were in an area off limits to them and as punishment to do ten laps around the building. It had certainly helped wake Nith up and get her blood pumping and also let her feel the ache of her unused muscles from her confinement in the Stockades.
After the run she had talked with Anna a little and learned through the conversation that the chaplin had known the naval officer Briggs who she had killed by accident, she had also learned he had a wife and two boys, she had felt a little sad learning that as she knew what it was like to no longer have parents.
And so it was she was sat on her bunk now, with a number of pieces of parchments around her, various different attempts at writing a short letter to officer Briggs widow that maybe Anna could get to her. Nith looked at the various versions she had written, wrinkling her nose as she looked through them one by one.
Dear Mrs Briggs
I am very sorry I accidentally killed your husband, I didn’t mean to do it and had it not been for his fancy hat making him look like a pirate I am sure I wouldn’t of.
Dear Mrs Briggs
I am sorry your Husband is dead and that I killed him on the ship when I thought he was a pirate, I shouldn’t have done it but if it makes you feel better I am not in a very nice place now either.
To Mrs Briggs
You don`t know me but I am the one that accidently shot and killed your husband, if it makes you feel any better I am sorry, and I know how it feels to lose someone you love because my parents are dead to.
Nith tossed the three parchments to one side and finally settled on
Dear Mrs Briggs
I am very sorry, I didn’t mean it, it was an accident.
Signed
Nithsethel Duskraven.
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The following is a report from Captain Kaibyrne Gladstone to Major Lewis Brant, regarding the Twelfth Penal Company’s deployment to Feralas.
Esteemed Major Brant,
The Twelfth Penal Company return Victorious from Feralas, successfully ensuring that wicked artifact’s destruction and the undead curse along with it. We rode aboard the Valiant, to the Night Elven outpost of Feathermoon and back. Along the way we forged ties with many military organisations, mostly those whom were not so quick to disregard a Penal Company although they do ponder how bad things are in they were to be reinstated in the first place. Notable mentions include The Cerulean Aegis, the Kul Tiran Marines, WEIRD Company, the Disfavoured and the Third Opinion to name a few. We assisted the local elements in a wide range of objectives, including tracking down Horde commanders, assassinating them before they compromise our flank, protecting Feathermoon from a pirate assault and venturing up North to rip a key from one of the Pirate’s hands, which proved to be critical to the Compasses destruction.
Terry Hollins and Modian Goldenfield proved their worth again and again, blending in with the foliage and picking enemies off from a distance, they were in their element and represented the Company well. Anna-Bellise Thornton, a recruit we picked up just before we set out also proved her worth, healing those in the field, giving them the strength needed to carry on, even saving myself at times.
It seems we made a good impression with those we served alongside in the green wasteland, Commander Luxren and Shadow Captain Hawk of the Cerulean Aegis, formerly of the 189th visited the garrison and with your consent we agreed to work together in the future if Alliance High Command deem it so. I did not expect to make allies so quickly but it is a welcome addition.
For the next week the Company shall recruit from those prisoners that you have brought to my attention and begin patrolling Elwynn Forest, in an effort to relieve the Stormwind Guard. Things are looking up for the Twelfth Penal Company.
Light Bless,
Kaibyrne Gladstone.
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Evelynn lied down in bed, but would not find rest. A constantly turning stomach, a continuous stream of sweat, and what feels like a thousand bugs crawling underneath her skin. She pushes herself up with a grunt and steps on to the cold garrison floor.
After dressing herself with some clothes and a gambeson for warmth, she made her way to the deadgrounds. Her knees drop onto the grass, dips her head, and begins to whisper.
“I pray to thee, O blessed Shadow, to guide me through these troubling times.”
The collar around her neck began to burn. The woman continues to speak, but through gritted teeth.
“That you grant me the wisdom to continue my work. The strength to get through these days. And the vigor to endure.”
Her words seem to anger the collar, beginning to burn more and more as she whispers her ‘heretical’ words. Tears form in the corner of her eye.
“More souls will be guided home in time. They shall be granted rest in thy name. I will make sure of it, for I am thy servant.”
The Light-infused collar sears the skin underneath. The scent of burnt flesh fills the air. Evelynn stops her prayer and whimpers.
“P-Please.”
She looks up at the night sky.
“Please don’t abandon me…”
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Letter to Philip Goldenfield.
Dwarven district 24th.
Hey Grandpa.
I hope you´re well, I know I just dropped by the other day, but you were out with Snowey on a walk, so I sadly couldent really leave anything but that quick note. I´m all well and fine, abit of new scars but you know, I like having some scars, it´s easier to remember their creation than having to writing them down.
I´ve come to enjoy my time in the Penal Company, I havent started preeching to the convict of the light, I know you thought that as a wise idea, but they dont really need to be hearing my words when they just wanna get out of here.
I met a friend of yours or rather none you´ve met, Commander Luxren, a nice fella I do rather like him, he think you´re as old and grumpy as I do, so see? it is not just me, Grumpypa.
I hope you´re good, that your joints aint being to much for your old body with them pains of yours. How are snowey? I know it was abit of a hard task to put her on you, but you know them wolfhounds need to be looked after or they´ll destroy the appartment building.
Hows the new squires you´re training? you told me about that young one, what was his name Damian? he sounds like a proper lad, just dont be to harsh on him, after all not all have been through three wars and survived.
My Captain, Gladstone, I think you´d like him. He´s harsh when we´re under order or on deployment, but he´s a soft soul when you are off duty with him or enjoying an silent moment, I think I´m getting to him, perhaps he´ll be a good friend, soon, who knows. I bet you´d like him.
Also met a woman, that you´d properly tell me to propose to, but no she´s just my fellow soldier, Anna or Thornton as we call her, good strong woman that´s a paladin, she also enjoys to smoke, so abit “wrong” is with her, as you´d say. I also met that boy that I told you about, Hollins, the one I told you about, that was with the slavers, you remember? I let him live instead of killing him. He´s a good boy, or a soldier as he´d rather like to be called.
Could you check up on Uncle Fenris? I got a letter from him nearly six months ago by now, as alwas he´s scriptive and confusing, but that´s what you get when you´re a professor I guess?
I´ll come by if we get leave, and dont overfeed Snowey, she´ll just get fat and then I´d have to be the meen one and put her on a diet.
Sincerely your Grandson Muddy.
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