To celebrate their last day of their stay in Eastvale, the roaming caravan that had been there for a while now, held a grand finale play for the locals. Titled ‘Rastakhan’s New Headdress’, the locals came inside the inn to watch the show. It was a pleasant display, providing entertainment for the people. The man playing Rastakhan was to pick a new wife, from the women in the audience and chose the village’s medic. As she was pulled up onto the stage however, a weapon was placed to her throat. The man inside a dragon costume burst out of the paper outfit, holding a rifle. The other actors drew concealed weapons too, as armed brigands flooded in the doorway. The play was a setup, as was their entire stay in Eastvale. All the false kindness, all the shows and tricks, all just to butter up the locals. The people of the caravan were a gang, who had actually been peddling stolen wares and swindling the residents. This grand finale was their final heist here, as they revealed themselves to truly be ‘The Men of Good Faith’. Rifles were aimed at the people, now trapped inside the inn, as they were forced to handover their belongings. Quickly, the place was robbed and the gang were about to leave, the law arrived in full force. Someone had somehow got word to them. Using the people of Eastvale as hostages, the violent gang managed to escape the inn and make it to their horses. A long chase followed, leading into the jungles of Stranglethorn. Some of the hostages were ditched, but one unfortunately was kept in the clutches of the gang - as they made it to the lawless port of Booty Bay. The Men of Good Faith regrouped inside and praised their narrow escape from the law, with sacks full of loot and a prisoner. However, one of them was nowhere to be seen and had failed to get through to the Bay side of the jungle. He was captured by the law. Unknowingly, The Men just awaited for his arrival - while they discussed their next move.
A special thank you to the Eastvale community! I hope you had as much fun as we had.
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Thanks to Eastvale for the amazing RP we’ve had over these past few days, once more! Probably one of my best RP experiences in a while.
Now though… The adventorous men traveled to Booty Bay, where we make our refuge.
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The best robbers I’ve ever had encountered. Real pros.
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Yarr! Ye scallywag! Thanks for allowing us to rob ye blind! Hehe! So long, ol’ seadog!
Thanks for the RP, Jaggerhawk! Big up.
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You didn’t come to the Dalaran Magic Faire. How dare you.
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Glory to the Men and also glory to celibacy, the cure of mankind.
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Let it be five hundred and one posts, lad.
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Our virginity gives us strength
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Posting this on Horkim since Williame as an OOC character is dead 
The Bastard’s End:
“Delivery for Luther Denholme” said the courier. A parcel slapped down on the porch of William’s shack. His fishing rod fell over. Waking with a snort and dropping the cheap bottle of banana juice he had been hugging in his nightmare fuelled sleep, William staggered outside, squinting at the morning light. He picked his fishing rod back up, relieved to see the topple hadn’t damaged the brittle thing. He’d need that to catch his food for today.
He took the parcel in his hand, suspicious. Was it from Jeb? A bomb perhaps? He felt the package. It weighed no more than a piece of paper. Perhaps another letter from Jeb, mocking him for his attempts to muscle in on the banana trade, and his eventual defeat. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was another offer from that dwarf, Handlenose. He’d been offered multiple jobs picking bananas in the fields, like a commoner.
But then something stirred in William’s memory, a regretful memory like all the others, but different from those that usually plagued him. He knew what was in the parcel. He brought it inside and carefully opened it, not wanting to damage the contents within.
William stared at the latest wanted poster for The Men of Good Faith. There were names he didn’t recognise amongst them. The gang had outgrown him, that was good. They deserved that. He looked over the familiar names, the familiar faces. He saw those crossed out, bounties claimed or simply dead or disappeared like himself.
William thought of his former friends. Those he’d betrayed. Those he’d even killed. He looked about his shack, more ramshackle than the family farm he had abandoned long ago when he first took up the persona of a displaced noble. One thought hammered through his head, inescapable.
He should have never left Westfall.
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You have to make a new Williame. You definitely have to. Do it.
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I heard there’s this cool dude named Bert who might show up sometime soon 
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