A neatly penned notice appears on one of Stormwind’s more prominent noticeboards:
I hope my fellow Gnomes, those born in the great metropolis of Gnomeregan, will join me in embracing the newfound fealty of the Mechagnome population. That the Mechagnomish people have recognized and affirmed their complete and binding vassalage to the one true system of Gnomish political hegemony and the unfettered authority of the HIGH TINKER, King Geblin MEKKATORQUE, whose sovereignty extends across all forms of Gnomish life uncontested, as King of ALL Gnomes can only bring prosperity to our newly ratified joint cultures and civilizations.
In the early hours of Sunday morning, the sun breaks and Stormwind rises to the shrieks of a grief-stricken mother. Inconsolable and in hysterics, efforts to soothe the soul were for naught and the local guard company finally managed to take a snivelling statement from her back at the barracks.
Hearsay spreads like wildfire, perhaps moreso due to the growing nag of dread in the back of many of Stormwind’s citizens. Rumours of a youth that strayed too close to the canal and never returned to the surface, blood bubbling from a watery grave.
An invasive species has entered many of the capital’s waterways. Concerned citizens have reported sightings of a murderous shoal of piranha, twisted and transformed by dark power. Their hungry amber gaze sometimes glares through the murk, unblinking, waiting…
An increasing number of Stormwind citizens are reporting that they’ve been hearing voices and whispers from a disembodied voice inside their minds. Even Non-Ren’dorei have begun to hear this nefarious being whispering lies and demanding their servitude. Some have even experienced vivid visions in the waking world and horrific nightmares when they sleep. All the reports mention the same thing.
To those that recently visited the Stormwind cemetary, at saturday night the members of what would be known the Dawn of the Faithfull took their equipment to the bewildred graves and spent the night cleaning, restoring and adding new fresh bouquets to the resting places of the fallen*
A large group of Kaldorei arrived via teleportation in the harbour . After a brief moment to take in the horrible architecture, they ventured though the city in procession to the main Refugee camp where they dispersed to tend to the beleaguered Kaldorei. As the night moved on, supplies were organised and medicines were stockpiled. As the moon climbed high overhead, the infirm and in poor health were helped inside one of the buildings near the farm where care and healing was given by those able too.
hundreds are rumoured to have died in the recent riot. Talks of people being crazy and the like. One thing was for sure though, the riot had turned into a slaughter.
A piece of parchment has been stuck to one of the memorial plaques at the Lion’s rest.
Ill’thayen Mal’athis was a sentinel, a wife, and a mother. She was a loyal soldier to the Kaldorei for years. On this night, she was slain by the guards of this city.
She lost much when the Horde attacked Teldrassil. Her home, her friends, her husband, her left arm. Her four year old daughter. And then, like the rest of us, left to live on the streets. It drove her mad.
She joined the riot not out of want, but out of need. We have not had justice for Teldrassil. All we WANTED was justice for Teldrassil.
And instead, Ill’thayen, and the other brave Kaldorei who fought for us, were killed by the guards as if nothing more than a Horde soldier. Killed like her husband and daughter were.
Ill’thayen Mal’athis will be remembered not as a traitor, like the guards will claim, but a champion. A champion of her people, and a champion of Teldrassil. She was our Jai’alator.
A group of Kaldorei are seen the next day holding a funeral within the city’s graveyard, without a headstone to mourn over. A bow, bound by roots, is left instead to represent the fallen sentinel.
On the night of the rumoured riots, the Kaldorei travelers gathered at the refugee camp by the farm. With full bellys and lifted spirits, the Elves and Worgen bore witness to a ritual of blessing where the aspects of the Goddess were invoked. Silver Moonlight shun down and hearts were lifted as praise was called to the moon goddess.
With the ceremony complete and a final farewell given to the camp, the group made to leave the city, two orphans traveling with them, eager for a new chance in life back on Kalimdor.
In recent days, a large length of rope was stolen from the harbour. Locals blame a gigantic bird the size of a worgen. The rope was later found discarded at the foot of one of the many towers littering Stormwind.
seemed apropriate for the ongoings in the City!)