[A/H - RP] War on the Warmonger

This letter is distributed at great expense through neutral and Alliance sources. Horde characters may find goblins from the Steamwheedle Cartel keeping a few pinned to their stalls, claiming they were paid good money to do so. Others still might find a letter posted directly to them. How someone receives, reads or ignores the letter is entirely up to them. There is, naturally, a very limited amount of them in circulation, so efforts to take them down will meet with relatively easy success.

This open letter is addressed to any denizen of Azeroth, regardless of allegiance.

Some of you may be aware I was recently captured by a Horde warband led by Thar’zog Giantrender. There has been confusion over their goals, so let me spell it out in plain terms.

When they say they only wish to stop Night Elves and Worgen from attacking Horde in Kalimdor, they are lying. It is what they want to provoke and encourage.

During my captivity I overheard enough, and my judgement of the individuals that make up the warband is based entirely on deductive and painstaking character profiling and thought.

Most of these individuals care only for their own glories or fabricated opinions. Some may not even care at all, simple anarchists. Others are misguided, led along by false promises of justice and peace.

I invite the reader to think upon how kidnapping and attempting to use a dwarf, an ex-General, as a bargaining chip to get Night Elves and Worgen to stop acting on very justified grievances actually works. The answer is it doesn’t, the very notion I am that important is laughable. It only takes a small amount of thought to deduce that people of the level of cunning exhibited by the warband would also know that my capture would matter very little to those who they claimed the stunt would stop.

So what then is their true goal, if they knew my capture would have no effect? I see the result. Dwarves I am close to who were previously willing to go along with the truce now clamour for Horde blood, and through that it is plainly clear what their aim is.

Thar’zog Giantrender and his warband seek to start a new war. By drawing more and more individuals into a spiraling proxy war they seek to force the wider leadership of both the Horde and the Alliance to act, whilst using the very aggression they themselves stoke as proof of the other side’s unwillingness to seek peace. It is a classic case of fabricating a reason for war, and we should not fall for it.

And so I call upon everyone to hunt Thar’zog and his warband, offer them no sanctuary, hound them to the end of their days. Attempt to reason with those of his warband who may hold doubt, but be under no illusion that most are fanatics that need to be put down.

I will state plainly my intent to do the same. I was originally content to leave them be, to let this little flame of theirs die out without success, but recent sacrifices that could have been prevented were it not for that orc’s meddling have caused me to reevaluate that opinion and take a more direct stance in snuffing them out.

I address the Horde directly now: I do not like you, it would not be a stretch to say I hate you. But in the moments after the Battle of Mount Hyjal, I had a hope that we could live in peace. This was swiftly dashed, and my opinion of the Horde does not, unlike King Anduin, change so easily depending on who sits on that throne of hide and bone of yours. So I put this challenge to you now: Change my mind. Take the first steps in your long road to redemption by aiding me in putting down Thar’zog’s warband and their warmongering ways.

Thar’zog. It does not matter to me whose hand you die by, I will just be content being one of the many that cut you down like the rabid dog you are. You should have used my bones to start to pave your new ‘Path of Glory’ when you had the chance, because you will not get another.

Grannd Thunderbraid.

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Um
 shots fired?

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The night was still by Northpass Tower, and only fools would travel the Plaguelands in the gloom by their lonesome.

Cidé pulled his undead steed towards a darkened corner beside the Argent holdfast, hoping to feed it some flesh; rebuild its strength for the rest of the journey. A quiet reprieve he revelled in. Feralas was a bitter battlefield. The countless skirmishes and guerrilla assaults had left him battered. His pale flesh now adorned countless druidic claw marks, many still stung of nature magic.

An argent squire came then in the dark, a white-clad Forsaken whose eyes shone a sickly gold, to re-shoe Cidé’s warhorse, make conversation and to give him some news.

Sinquija scowled as he read Thunderbraid’s declaration.

“I don’t know, brother – this Thar’zog has it coming,” the argent huffed, struggling against the horse’s rancid leg. Vermillion was a dreadfully stubborn beast. Even more so than the usual Forsaken mount. The squire finally pried free the horseshoe with a satisfied sigh. He waved it about as he spoke, clumsily talking over his slack jaw.

“The war’s over, you know? He’s a criminal in my book.”

Cidé made to lower his hood further across his face, tidily folding the parchment into his new cuirass.

“Where are you from?” he asked as the squire carefully drove tiny nails into his horse’s massive black hoof.

“Me? Hillsbrad, but I was raised in Deathknell. Why?”

“I’m from Brill,” CidĂ© said with a morbid finality. He met the squire’s sallow gaze.

“Finish up now, I must away.”

Vermillion thundered down the cobbled path across the Plaguelands, torchfire folded in his wake. Cidé rode for North. The gloom of the cursed forest parted before him, his tattered cloak billowed like a violet haze.

He was a fool, but a fool bearing ill news.

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The letter arrived in the late afternoon. He was cooped up in his office, perusing old and musty tomes just as a way of passing the time. With the war over, there really wasn’t much else to do. Any reports he received had to do with trivialities, like the pub brawl between gnomes and goblins in a distant corner of Azeroth. Most of the other messages were invitations to social events and were quickly dismissed as being a waste of time.

Seeing Grannd’s handwriting had piqued his interest, though. He had been ready to put it away as he had with every other imposter’s letter, but the look of the envelope made it clear it wasn’t directed to him – it was too generic to have been sent by a pretender. Once he actually opened it, he got a better understanding of the situation. A matter he had intended to stay out of, involving people he would rather not talk to and yet, the brigadier-general’s hand was all over the paper in front of him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Clovus waved at his servant. Dag, the Bronzebeard oaf, stepped forward as if on command and approached the desk where the Justicar was seated. “Send word to Charax,” Clovus said, keeping his eyes on the letter. “Tell him I am interested in this General’s Company after all. Let Nerathion know as well. Now that they have Grannd’s blessing, I may as well offer a helping hand.” He heard a clicking noise as the door closed behind Dag, leaving the dark iron alone in his study.

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Watch out. Björa is on it’s way

the plot thickens?

https://media1.tenor.com/images/e3a793d4078a1d5dc56fefca1ba0590c/tenor.gif?itemid=15995245

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I can’t find that on discord gifs. I really want to use it.

Have you tried looking at the title of the page that says “Starship Trooper War GIF”? If not, then I shall inform you that you can find the gif in discord if you look up ‘Starship Troopers War’.

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“Who even is that?” mumbles Morsteth to himself, reading the letter on a goblin notice board. He turns away and remembers: “Ah, the Bjora
”

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Seer Axefang blinks, especially when he sees the Path of Glory, a name he hated, one which reminded him of his dark, terrible past. He did not take part in the Carnage, but his heart, ached nontheless.
“Where are we truly going? Gul’dan in another face, is coming?” he clutches his fist, angry, deep in thought.
“My burden does not end.”

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