No wonder you stole boots and helmet IC 
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Good fun randomly meeting some of these guys in Lordaeron.
They were delicious.
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The bruises under Aerilenâs eyes had started to take on a sallow colouring, leaving his skin a discoloured mess of purple with yellow streaks. But a broken nose wouldnât stop him, it only just fanned the flames of his growing irritability, the past week had been an utter farce. A debacle that he was ashamed to have his name pinned to. Innocent life cut away like it was nothing and capture at the hands of some upjumped paladins.
It was certainly humbling. Perhaps it was even deserved.
Long and impatient strides carried him over the winding roads of Silvermoon as his mind raced. Streets, gardens and statues were indistinct and unimportant. They were a distraction, simple clutter and background noise to the burning questions that was gnawing at his insides.
Who was this merchant that Valteryl claimed was attacked?
He could have simply been just that, attacked and drove away from his usual route. With humans simply finding themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps these humans were his competitors in the fledgeling trade between the Horde and Alliance and he was using whatever he could to ruin them. Being used as a tool was an unsettling thought. As was the fact that they so willingly fell in line with his plan. What if this merchant was a vector for a dissatisfied group as the Path of Glory? Light knows some fires will never go out. But there were other, more dangerous thoughts lingering in his head.
What if Valteryl was that rogue force? The idea sickened him, leaving his stomach to churn and his heart to drop into a shallow pool of dread.
The Halls of Blood quickly came to loom ahead, the twin statues at its entrance leered over Farstriderâ Square and down at Aerilen. Accusing glares that he couldnât help but feel were deserved. Duskgrove was awaiting him and, for a change, the blood knight was not looking forward to the conversation they were about to have.
I would like to give a big thanks to the Holy Order of Lordain for the past few nights of roleplay. As well as Requiem of Sorrow and Nisidor for being good sports with our guilds antics in Hillsbrad.
Bladewing are back in the High Home, shaken but whole and ready to dig into the mystery that they blindly waded into!
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I have a Very Important question: is there a guild uniform?
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None, but wearing legion season 5 pvp set or Antorus heroic/mythic automatically gives that person +10 DKP!
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As Valteryl said. Weâve never really had a uniform and I donât ever plan on enforcing anything to be quite honest.
People just gravitate towards the above sets. 
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This guild looks cool, love the more specified theme 
Hope we meet some day 
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Wonderful, thank you! When Iâll come back (and finally finish levelling that blood knight) Iâll likely come say hi.
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âNo, you donât understand! I-I can explain everything!â
Terror-stricken screams came from the isolated hut in Eversong Woods, scaring the resting birds on trees and waking up the rest of the surrounding wildlife. It was away from the prying eyes that could become a nuisance, and simple folk can always be described as loquacious by nature - it wouldâve not been too long before local rumours began to fuel local nightmares.
A tall armoured figurine smashed the entrance into the hut, breaking not only the door but the hinges that were torn out of the wooden frame. Terrified elf, who was in a rush to pack his belongings, was backed into the corner of his own home, pleading for mercy and hoping to explain his situation.
Upon approaching the man, a terrifying visage of armour finally showed itself, soaked in dried blood - blood that was forced upon it. He switches his attention to the decor, frantically looking for something specific. He noticed a barrel full of water, empty shelves and some leftovers on the table - nothing of importance, unlike their owner.
âI was made to do it!â the man made another plea into the deaf ears. âT-They told me you are w-with us!â he cried out for the last time, tossing various pieces of parchment at the slowly advancing death that finally arrived to claim its due.
He was grabbed and dragged to the very barrel, trying to break free from the iron grip. Only then the sinking feeling of true desperation started to overcome the man - the moment when he realised that escape is impossible.
âYou are nothing but a weapon! A weapon, y-you hear me?!â he finally proclaimed, which made his assailant halt.
âI know,â Valteryl replied weakly, âbut I am your weapon no more.â
He must have cried out, but no sound escaped the troubled water.
We are slowly preparing for our next engaging roleplay, as the comeuppance has finally arrived to those, who dared to use Bladewing in their malicious ambitions. 
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Are⊠are we the bad guys, brothers?
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Rather a bad guy for the right reasons, than a good guy for the wrong ones.
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@aerilen can we put that on top of our masculine Christian gym?
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A small, unassuming advert has appeared on the noticeboard near the markets of the Bazaar.
CAN YOU READ AND TRANSLATE WRITTEN DARNASSIAN?
IF SO PLEASE CONTACT MASTER ASHFORGE AT THE TEMPLE OF BLOOD. YOUR TIME AND ENERGY WILL BE COMPENSATED.
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Some say we only workout to music such as Creed and SkilletâŠ
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kill valteryl
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Leave the horses alone you monster.
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It had been a few hours since Valteryl had taken some of Bladewing to pursue some ghosts and dust-mites past Lake Elrendar. Aerilen staunchly disagreed with it, it was a waste of time and resources that they could ill afford.
But it gave Aerilen some time to himself, time he could dedicate to going through the fruits of his own personal labours. Sequestered in some small room within the Temple of Blood and lit by the cool blue glow of an arcane lantern, Aerilen poured over several librams. Clearly not belonging to his own Order, not with the assortment of lions and gryphons that decorated them. Page after page were flicked past. Each one dedicated to hymns, seals, spells or blessings. All variants of what he already knew or deemed useless, ineffectual for his own craft.
These librams were proving to be nothing extraordinary and that irritated him, one of them was - quite distinctly - a bitter struggle to obtain. He wanted to extract what useful information he could from these fat books swiftly. Bladewing were due to depart for Hillsbrad again soon. Having to make another trip was an incredibly bitter pill to swallow; the chance of uncovering more information on this traitorous merchant and his designs was slim. But they had to try, theyâll have to scour the entire path of this trade route if they must. The sleight of being used so brazenly was too much to ignore.
And then there were other slights, but those would have to wait until this flimsy armistice collapsed.
Bladewing are once again venturing out into Lordaeron, retracing their steps to get to the bottom of who (or what) flagrantly used them and to bring them to justice! 
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Met them in Ashenvale once, very friendly and nice people!*
*Provided youâre not a night elf of course.
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Very good boys who will never forgive me for maining Virenna now.
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