Ectheleon Dawnreaver of the Wolves of Winter. In-game on US-Wyrmrest Accord. All posts are IC 1st person internal monologue, or 3rd person story narrative unless otherwise specified.
Dawn was rising in Westfall, and Zaderick turned to his beloved, memorizing his features as if this journey would take months, when in reality it would be a few short days. Every night was an adventure, and even after finding a chest full of treasure that particular evening, no glimmering gem or coin in its cache compared to the shining star that held his heart before him.
“Promise you’ll come back.”
“I will always come back, Dalah’surfal.”
It was not Zaderick McGowan who stood on the deck of The Banshee’s Wail, but Killian Essex, Captain of the Black Maw, Commodore of the Wolves of Winter in service of the Black Admiral Winters, even in death. A death that was temporary, they all hoped. Killian gave a nod towards The Blood Howl where Joie de Vivre, Captain of the Sparks, stood at the helm. His gaze turned to The Bleeding Heart where his own Quartermaster Leif Landvik of the Black Maw stood at the ready, awaiting orders. The Banshee’s Wail held most of the Wolves as they made their way towards Icecrown.
The small fleet would leave from the Ravenport, Gilneas and head towards Onslaught Harbor that once belonged to battle-hardened Scarlets near Jotunheim, Icecrown. It would be their best bet to getting into Icecrown safely and without the need to scale the icy walls of the glaciers to the north and east of the region.
“Prepare for below freezing temperatures,” he warned the Wolves.
“These ships are equipped with icebreakers, so we should run into little to no trouble clipping through icy waters. That being said, kraken infest the waters to the north, so we will be ready, should a defense be necessary. If you forgot any enchantments to keep your clothing warm, see me before we make it to the Frozen Sea. Once there, my attention will be on the waters and our destination.”
The redheaded human paced the deck with his hands clasped behind his back as his black and silver cloak trailed behind him. Once he was done speaking to the Wolves, he pulled his fur-lined hood over his head and began to shout orders to the ship’s crew. They began to work in unison, almost mechanically like a well-oiled machine to unfurl the deep crimson and onyx sails that to the unsavvy would appear reminiscent of those that the Bloodsail Crew brandished. The hull of the Wail was a bloody burgundy, while that of the Heart and Howl were mahogany and black respectively.
Killian spoke into his communicator, then watched as the sails of the other ships dropped to catch the winds. Their journey would take over twenty four hours, but it gave the Wolves time to think and prepare for what lay ahead.
Hours of time had gone by. Hours turned to days and days to weeks. Coming back from his latest interrogation of Henesey for information regarding General Winters, he tacked the sheet of paper up on the wall and pulled the string over to it before tacking that in place amidst the spider web of conspiracy logic that he’d linked together. The who, the when, now worked out. The why to a lesser degree. But the how and where, specifically where she was now, still lay barren in the scheme of things. With a sigh he looked back to his copy of the Wolves documents and searched for the next name. It was all there was to do, for the time being....
Echo was pissed. With the safehouses supplied and secured, Phantom had been digging around and as a consequence the next step of the Wolves’ scavenger hunt for information had been passed off to him. Investigate the Stormwind Graveyard. And no matter how much it aggravated him though, it was better than sitting around doing effectively nothing at the manor with the General’s inanimate body. He ground his teeth as he passed through the Valley of Heroes. He was supposed to be putting people -in- the ground for this act of aggression, not digging -up- bodies.
The lamp lighters came out as he skirted the busy sections of the Trade District on his way to the north side of the city. He hadn’t bothered to don any of his usual human cosmetics or armor instead sticking with some standard indescript dark leathers; if he had any luck there would be several more bodies in the Graveyard by morning. Furthermore, as much as getting this done mattered, there was still the matter of 8 months under torture with the Vengeance of Theramore. Being in the human capital was far less comfortable now that it once might have been for him. He balled and uncurled his fists a few times, his jaw clenched as he thought about it. Crossing the canal, he shook his head brushing the thought from his mind.
“There's a large tree by the waterfront that shades the Mausoleum. Investigate the graveyard around there for anything. I can't give you more to go on.” Phantom had told him over the comms. He crossed Cathedral Square with disgust written into his features; a clergyman was preaching on a box near the steps with a small crowd of nobles there. So too a few pockets of people were gathered, talking and debating drivel. At Echo could only assume it was drivel. As the nobility in Silvermoon had a tendency to be intolerably self indulgent cretins, so was Echo’s experience that those of the cloth from Stormwind were zealous radicals whose presence would not be unexpected in an asylum. Some of the worst acts of violence in the last century had been borne of the Light. Arthas Menethil and his quest to ‘save’ Lordaeron, the Scarlet Crusade, and the betrayal of Archbishop Benedictus at Wyrmrest. All acts committed in the name of a hokey religion. It wasn't even that he objected to the idea of a deity, but he found the notion of one who takes attendance to be downright ridiculous.
He carefully meandered toward the crowd that was listening to the preacher. One woman had strung a very large tote over her shoulder which drew his attention instantly, an easy target. Expertly he came up behind her and her presumably husband pretending to listen to the speech. Keeping his shoulders open he dipped his hand inside, gauging her reaction. She shifted her weight from away to toward him. The bag of gold was easy to find, she hadn't buried it at all. Carefully he made sure he was close enough that she'd bump into him. As it happened, he withdrew the coin purse. She turned to him, her breath catching as a hand came up to her chest. He hid both hands behind his back, stringing the bag to his belt with a practiced ease. “I didn't see you, pardon me.” she apologized, though the accident was of his creation. He brought his right hand back out as the left finished securing his score. “Not to worry, no harm done.” he assured her quietly. She gave a nod of appreciation and turned back to the speaker. Echo waited patiently for several moments before turning to leave. She looked back to him as he moved, much less subtly now. He tipped his head to her, back pedaling into his turn to hide the coin purse behind him until she was refocused on the man of the cloth.
He crossed to the east side of the square where a caretaker was outside the orphanage with a cart of flowers. He unbound the coin purse and dropped it atop the cart. “I'd like a full bouquet. Tulips, Lilacs, Orchids, and a single Rose as well.” he requested. “Consider the rest an anonymous donation.”
She looked at the coin purse and then at him in surprise. “Thank you, that's very generous of you.” she replied in awe, grabbing and beginning to arrange the flowers.
Echo stood in silence. As she collected the rose he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck through the fabric of his hood. On the journey over it had finally hit him and sunk in. It wasn’t that the General’s lack of presence had not effected him up until now, but it was easy to let the rage burn through the short term without him really processing the fact that she was currently not among them.
“Cheer up love.” the florist told him, offering him the bundle of flowers he’d requested. He accepted it with a gracious nod before heading over to the graveyard. And then the hopelessness set in. What was he even supposed to look for? The task seemed paramount to trying to find a needle in a haystack. Were they not of the Horde? What was a human cemetery going to offer in the way of clues to him or Phantom?
He made his way left upon entering the park, slowly plodding down the brick path towards the harbor side. Lines of headstones stared back at him as he made his way closer to the Mausoleum. He veered left, weaving between the plots toward the pond. There were many trees that dotted the memorial site, but Echo found his way to a large hickory that stood at the shore. He sat down and gave himself a moment to just breath in the quiet, save for the bird chirps and gentle lapping of water finding the shore. He closed his eyes and placed the flowers on the ground next to himself, his knees brought up in front of him, with hands clasped, elbows encircling his spread knees in a very relaxed and casual position. The wind rustled at the leaves about him and in the distance he could hear the sounds of workers to the west at the docks punctuated by the ring of hammers from the east in the Dwarven District. For several minutes there was nothing else. A bit more pacified, he looked over his left shoulder and opened his eyes, scanning the trunk of the hickory. There was nothing around it either. He pulled out one of his knives and crawled over to the tree. The steel bit into the bark and he knelt there etching for a few minutes until he was satisfied and stood up stepping away from his work. The initials ‘GCW’ now marked the spot and Echo picked the bouquet up before laying it at the base of the tree in front of his carving.
“You know, when you sent me after Reshira, you warned me to be prepared and not to die. And even before I had left you clearly had the intuition to know something was wrong. You sent the entire damn Pathfinder unit after me. Seems the tables have turned. I don’t know what you got into, but Phantom and I are coming; you’re just going to have to hold out for a little while longer.” he said quietly to the shrine.
He picked up the remaining rose and headed around and toward the Mausoleum itself. The plots were larger here, clearly owned by the ruling houses and other wealthy property owners of Stormwind. It took him almost two laps but eventually he found it. The large headstone contained the epitaph: Amber Stathis, Our ray of sunshine. The assassin knelt down, his ears wilting as he placed the rose at the foot of the grave. “One failure too many.” he mumbled aloud. He took a deep breath and stood up, looking around at nothing in particular when the oddity caught his eye. Over to his left by another tree closer to the wall was the faintest fleck of pink on the ground. He made his way over and sifted through the topsoil when his hands rolled over and immediately collapsed on the small almost malleable item. Pulling it up, it looked to be a pink piece of candy. The squishiness meant it wasn’t hard, taffy or gum perhaps. He tucked it into a belt pouch before his eyes scanned over the spot more thoroughly. Then it struck him. This was a dead drop, a bit more crudely done than he would expect but a dead drop none the less. He took a different dagger from its sheath, this one far more blunt than the one he’d used on the hickory, and proceeded to dig at the dirt. It was softer and aerated. But a few minutes revealed that whatever had been hidden here was no longer there. He frowned at the site for a moment before vanishing into the long cast afternoon shadows.
Maybe this was what Phantom had been hoping to find….
@wolf-queen @phlareshadowdancer
Who are playing along in the Runic slumber story and helping the story grow and be maintained. It’s gotten larger than I think the Wolves had expected, and the parties involved are doing a wonderful job at keeping it a float.
It was the shrieking that had sent him over the edge. Kelah had started bawling over comms with shrilly agony. He knew the rules, he knew that there'd be consequences from the General later, but the anguish of whatever had happened to her was private or so he thought. But annoyance had a habit of setting him on the path of violence, so he elected to go hunting. It took him awhile to gather his supplies and travel south into neutral territory before he decided to flick the comms back on.
"I found the Queen dead in the Tavern this evening. I'd like all of the Wolves to report to her estate. I'll be putting her in her bed while I wait for all of you to arrive."
Echo went rigid; the bow, quiver, and rucksack dropping to the ground as reality hit him. His jaw clenched. No way had this been death, he just couldn't see it. Murder, but not death. He removed his gloves and brought his wrist up to his mouth and bit down on the skin hard enough to draw blood, his eyes clouding over with a look few alive still had seen. He held the bleeding appendage over his other hand and let the sanguine fluid drop down over the skin. After a moment, it started to spread out, morphing into an assassin's mark that he'd promised he'd never use. The symbol manifested slowly like a crimson tattoo, spiraling over his hand and the wrist. Satisfied with its completion he pressed his palm to the ground and mumbled quietly. A dual sheath appeared in a pop and puff of smoke from the summoning, along with a black indescript tabard and an ornate death mask. He tugged the fabric over his leathers before adjusting the collar and drawing the hood up over his head. He slid the death mask into place letting black wisps of smoke billowed from the seams in his armor. Independently of anything he was doing the clear evening sky began to cover as storm clouds rolled in overhead. He slid the scabbards into position and hefted the bow and quiver back over his shoulder. An ominous rumble issued from the horizon before the angry lightning flashed among the clouds as he drew the two weapons from their rest. The Dioscuri, the twin blades shone in the dimming light. Echo had faded and given way to the monster. To Sloth, the dangerous sin, not the tame and calculated spy and assassin; the raw adrenaline fueled killer. He'd spent so long observing that his lack of proactivity had caught up with him. Now the world was going to pay for it in blood.
'The Heart Thief.' That was one of the monikers he'd come to know the General by. That said, Celestine would still always be the General to him; a sign of professional respect on his part even when he wasn't around her. He wasn't sad now though, sad was a luxury for those with time to grieve. He was motivated now by vengeance and he let the loss of the General fuel his drive to return to equilibrium. It had been a fishing village. The operative word being had been. The center of the cluster of buildings was presently home to a chest. Echo dropped his latest donation into it before rubbing his hands together, pushing the blood from his palms down to his finger tips. Around the huts a myriad of bodies lay broken, flopped on the ground that their life had been claimed. A few humans, some elves, a gnome and a goblin. Echo stared out at the sea for a moment pondering his actions. Would his donation change anything? Would they be able to use one of these hearts to revive her? Most likely not, but for her namesake it was worth something perhaps. "I'll be there shortly Phantom." he relayed to the comm, before kicking the lid of the chest shut.
Well it took me about 20 hours over 3 days to binge the dungeons after getting the base appearance, but I finally managed to get it all done. And by god does he look gorgeous. Time for some much warmer rest. I'll be back and writing again after a nice long nap. :)
The docks were busier in the southern piers then Echo would've expected for the hour. With that amount of people, it had taken him almost twice as long to scale down the battlements to avoid being so fast that everybody noticed him repel down. Fortunately, it seemed a number of merchant vessels had come through, leaving him plenty of mountains of cargo to dodge between and mask his presence.
The Dauntless came into view at pier 4. The mammoth capital ship eclipsed the handful of escort corsairs and supply ships docked in the harbor with 3 decks loaded to the keel with cannons. A quick survey netted Echo with an estimate of 45 cannons a side; not the sort of firepower he wanted following the Lordaeron as they escaped the harbor. He doubled checked the patrols before dashing to the docks edge and quietly dipping himself into the water. A few stroke brought him against the edge of the hull, now hiding from view of the pier itself. It took him a little longer to reach the stern before Phantom’s voice cut through the silence, “Make haste, I don’t want to miss a dinner party.”
“Working on it, need a few more minutes to make sure we’re not getting followed.” he replied pulling a vial of acid from his belt. He removed the cork, unceremoniously dumping the contents over the rudder chain, careful to keep his hands clear of the splash. The acid reacted instantly to the metal, burning through it over several seconds on until it was little more a thin sliver of iron. He dropped low and splashed some water up quietly to wash away the remaining reagent before smashing his boot into it and shattering the links apart. He scaled up the rudder and repeated the initial process again to weaken the chain. Pressure of any input from the bridge would do the rest.
A short swim brought him to pier seven. He quickly pulled himself up and readjusted his armor as a ominously looking Phantom made his way over the corpses that he was no doubt responsible for. “Shall we get onto the fun part then?” he asked, heading for the gangway to the surface hatch for the submersible, offering Phantom first entry to the vessel.
((sorry this was so long coming. Got caught up with IRL and had a little writer’s block. :/ Will do better for later parts of this post set.)) @wolf-queen @phlareshadowdancer
Phlare had departed as soon as Echo brought the satchels, he hadn’t the time to wait for Saithe. Exiting the little home as he slung the draw string bag over his shoulder he instantly kept to the shadows. Walking across the massive bridge guarding the mote.
Each lantern was lit, each guard as standing in position as Phlare idly slipped and snuck through their few openings. Once entering the gates, he knelt down, taking a stone from under his feet. Looking towards the guard, he tossed the stone above his head to ricochet off the ceiling of the gates and come down to crash lightly against the guards helmet on the opposite side of Phlare.
“Hey!” The guard turned and yelled to the other. “Could you refrain from the horseplay? We already had the meeting! We could get fired for this man!” The other guard turned, yelling his argument on how it wasn’t him, but by then Phlare had slipped by into the trade district. It was incredibly busy, shoulder to shoulder as the walking traffic was in a hurry. Phlare idly unshrouded himself as he squeezed into the crowed. Walking with them in shifts as he kept his eyes closed, listening to his foot steps as he retraced his pattern towards the Dwarven District. Taking his right, he bailed down the small alley way and re-entered the shadows. Though, as a guard turned to come down the hall way with his clanking steps Phlare paused. Looking towards the guard as the hunger returned to his eyes.
One step, two step, three steps, four. The guard was right before Phlare and in that instant a faint, red line was opened upon his throat. As the guard fell to his knees as the wound continued to open, Phlare would be standing behind him, turning his back to continue down the path as the shadows Phlare ripped through slit the mans throat. Small choking, fighting breathes for life were heard in the tunnel as Phlare exited.
Standing before the Tavern, he heard Echo over the communicator.
“Five minutes, I’ll be right behind you.” Phlare said softly as he unshrouded himself and walked into the Tavern. The sounds of happy drinking songs and common enjoyment as the days end was celebrated with booze and music. But as Phlare took a silent foot step into the Tavern, the music stopped.. The singing, the cheer all ended and a sudden cold, heavy feeling consumed the room. “For those who can understand me.” He said in his broken common. “I am Phlare Shadowmancer, the Phantom who haunted your city.”
Their eyes grew wide as some started to shout for guards, others began to cry in fear as if the devil himself had finally shown face. “And this is a gift, I grant to you.” With that, he undrew the bag from his shoulder, tossing it into the middle of the room. A loud thud was heard, and the room went silent. Phlare began to motion someone towards the bag. Anyone, and when the Dwarf finally did and the bag was opened. A string of charges were pulled and the bomb detonated. Phlares figure was consumed by flames and taken back into the shadows as he quickly reappeared before the stockades.
Catching his breathe, he wasn’t use to using the Shadowlands as much as he had been, but he truly wanted to see how much farther he could take it. Screaming was heard in the distance as Phlare knelt down. Picking up a manhole cover and setting it to the side to drop into the sewer below the stockades. Walking freely through the quite literally, shitty water he approached the belly of the stockades from the under neath. Drawing his last charge from his belt, he placed it on the ceiling and snickered softly. “Be free, like me.” He said allowed as he fully intended on freeing the prisoners of the city.
Weighted and heavy foot steps echo’d and splashed through the water as he continued his way towards the harbor. The only thing on his mind wasn’t even the mission, but the chaos of thousands of angry, deprived criminals obtaining their revenge. “One.. two.. I’ll be the King of all of you.”
Phlare had continued his way through the filthy sewer waters. Rather unphased by the stray rats and stench. Each passing step was slower than usual. His ears perked to the chaos above as he heard the shuffles of foot steps and screams echoing through the tunnels of the sewer.
Smirking to himself as his hand plucked a small remote from his belt. “Mmm, boom.” He said silently as his thumb pressed the button on the remove. A loud rumble came crashing through the the tunnels as the screams became louder. It wouldn’t be long now, the prisoners would realize that they could escape and in those moments the sounds of rushed footsteps in the water was heard.
Completely content with this, he knew that between each Tavern and the Stockades taking their terroristic blows, the guards would mainly leave the docks of the harbor. Though he reached the end of the tunnel, a single ventilation whole had the horizons dimming light shining through it. As he looked down from the wall, to the harbor through the bars he searched for any sign of Echo. Though, even if he were there Phlares gaze was brief and he wouldn’t of noticed.
A loud crash of the metal bars hitting the perfectly sculpted stair well towards the harbor as Phlare kicked them free of their confines in the mortar of the stone. Jumping down he entered the shadows once again. As he hit the stone stare case, he rolled down them. Sure, it was painful, but it softened the blow of landing and as his body rolled down the stair case rapidly two guards had been running up the stairs.
One step, two step, and now near the guards were knocked back down the steps by Phlares toppling body. Landing on their backs as Phlare unshrouded before them. Each dagger wasn’t just drawn, but it was sent between their breast plate and chin. Right into the exposed throats as the crimson liquid began to spray past the piercing edge of each dagger. Looking down between the two as fear entered their minds. But the more they shifted and struggled in their armor, the faster the obtained the inevitable; they bleed to death with the scared look locked in their eyes. Fear scarring their features as their last breathe was taken. Looking around carefully, more so for Echo than anything but it was cut short once again.
Eager he was, and with that his daggers went back into their sheaths and his left hand pulled a small, purple crystal. Raising it up, the souls of the two fallen guards slowly ripped from their confines and misted their way into the gem. Shadows began to circle Phlare as his eyes shaded red through the darkness that housed his frame. Pure black shadow, shadow magic created by the brightest of light magic encased him as he continued to suck every last living essence of the two guards. Once the link was broken, and they were dry of their souls he casually walked towards the dock, tucking the gem back on his belt and hooking his thumbs in his pockets.
A small tune was whistled, though it wasn’t anything significant to anyone or anything involving his time here. Once at the dock, he realized the documents were wrong. Twelve guards were surrounding the submarine as it seemed active. Preparing to depart from the city within the sounds of chaos.
“Now now..” He said as he approached the guards. “Where might you be going?” In that statement, Phlare’s body took to the shadows but an apparition of him continued walking casually forward. The Guard in the very front screamed as his hand rose. Six of the guards had drawn cross bows, the other five drew their swords and shields. The apparition continued walking forward in it’s arrogant, yet casual stride.
The main guard lowered his hand quickly, and the six men with their cross bows shouldered had pulled their triggers. Sending those arrows right into the apparition, just as Phlare wanted. As the metal bounded by wood struck the shadow’d version of himself; it erupted and sent a wave of shadows in all directions that masked out of the light of the setting sun. All twelve visible men now masked in the same darkness Phlare had called when using the gem to steal the previous guards souls.
Three steps, four steps.. five. The first guard who signaled the barrage dropped to his knees as the plated armor tinked and landed face first against the old wooden beams creating the dock. All the guards shifted as one yelled and a defensive formation was taken as if they were surrounded. Back to back, the guards began to attempt to exit the shadowed mist.
Phlare was far from okay with this. His game wasn’t over yet and the more they stepped, the more the shadows began to burn at their flesh under their armor. Four of the guards paused their steps and in that moment, they all saw a flash of red eyes in front of them before their crimson liquid sprayed from their exposed necks.
In that shadow cascade, Phlare could be anywhere and everywhere. A pure form of the death-stalkers ‘nightmare’ they would create to block out light when slaying their victims. The first practice to enter the Shadowlands. Trapped in the mist, their souls couldn’t leave and with that the lifeless bodies still were able to view the unyielding death that followed them one by one.
Phlare ripped through the mist as the crimson eyes watched the humans attempt to exit the mist. A soft snicker was given as the dark shadow essence continued to burn at their flesh. One guard falling to his hands and knees in pain as the darkness began to burn his lungs. Being met with a dagger into the back of his neck, splitting the spine and ripping through the cords before the hilt was twisted and ripped from the mans neck.
Six down, and six to go and the screams in the shadows were so loud they could of reached the trade distract. Could of, if the mist hadn’t silenced inside and outside sounds. The only ones who could hear them, were the ones trapped in the very darkness Phlare had used many years ago to slaughter the Paladins in the Silvermoon City Blood Hall.
A silent whisper from Phlare echo’d in the darkness cascading them all. “Slit your own throat.” Though it was a whisper, it echo’d loudly in the darkness and was as if Phlare was on all sides of them. Four of the guards refused and began to run, tripping and falling over each other as they shoved one another to try to exit the darkness. But the other two..
They didn’t resist that voice. Each of them drawing their swords and placing them to their throats. Before they ran the blade through their wind pipes and into their jugulars they screamed. “For Azeroth, for the Alliance!” With that, they died the most honorable death they could in this instant as their sanguine liquid stained their blue and white tabards. Letting them lay face first in the seasoned wooden dock.
By now, the other guards had reached the end of the mists. Though as they tried to escape it was as if they hit and invisible wall. In panic, they placed their backs to the end of the mist and begged, pleaded with screams and tears. Promises of whatever the man wanted and pleas of regret and forgiveness for things they had done. Yet, one by one.. they dropped to the dock.
The mist, the cascading darkness was closing and with that they had no true place in the small opening of the Shadowlands Phlare had exposed to them. The mist began to rip them apart, tearing limbs into pieces and tossing their crimson life essence across the dock until nothing was left of them but stray parts and armor scraps.
The mist was gone, and Phlare appeared in the center of where it was. Shaking his head as he drew the crystal from his belt again and rose it to the sky. Not even looking for Echo this time as the souls of the fallen had began funneling into the gem again. The screams replaying in Phlares mind as the sinful eyes were twisted and churned in the chaos of the moments passing by. Now in the distance, he would hear the continuing screams and the rebellion of the prisoners fighting for their freedom against the guards.
Re-tucking the gem on his belt. He didn’t hear any sign of Echo, though.. he was distracted. Turning to one of the pieces of human. His fingers curled into the scrap armor and ripped the bloodied metal from the chest cavity. Drawing his dagger, he cut through the center of the chest and began to widdle the blade across to the chests left. Cutting it’s circle before he ripped the flesh free and tossed it aside. The blade began to cut the arteries of the heart, ripping through them like an arrow into flesh as her scooped the heart out with the flat of his blade. Dropping it into his pound on his side as the blood dripped through the seams of the bag. Walking over to the running submarine. He leaned against the hatch and peered over his bloodied armor.
“Oh Echo….” He said lowly into the com as the twisted tone in his arrogant voice was heard.
“Make haste, I don’t want to miss a dinner party.”
Echo muffled a grunt as he heaved himself up onto the parapet. The wall was about 30 to 40 feet on this side of the city. He'd carefully gauged the patrol pattern to avoid a guard crossing above during his climb. He readjusted his armor from the climb before crouching low and running along the causeway to the tower. Checking the door for sounds within, he marveled at his luck as no one seemed to be inside. The base let out into a corner of the Mage Quarter, giving Echo time to fade to shadow and slide north along the edge of the district to his intended destination. The commons were a bit more busy and Echo took several moments to cross, avoiding the now lit lamps in particular - the long shadows affording him plenty of assistance in remaining undetected. Ducking into the alleyway behind the Slaughtered Lamb tavern, he unmelded to set the charges. His fingers moved with a practiced ethic, arranging the explosives in a minimally conspicuous way while still shaping the blast such that it would go up. There'd be damage to the tavern of course, but for his part, making the blast direct upward would make it visually far more apparent from everywhere in the city, and would therein hopefully draw more attention. He was just adding a flare rocket to the top when a small cough came from behind him. "Whatcha doin' mister?" the high pitched warble asked. Echo froze for a moment before collecting himself. He consciously coughed a few times for good measure then turned around and found a girl and a boy, neither older than 12, looking over at him. Feigning another cough he added some rasp to his voice, "Just taking a moment, I think I inhaled some sawdust inside just now." he lied effortlessly. How he played this now was critical. Phantom had of course instructed them to kill anyone who saw them with no caveat for age, gender, or martial status. Echo had seen enough war both with the Farstriders Corps and while posing as an SI:7 operative; killing civilians didn't sit well with him. Some orders needed to be ignored by virtue of moral conscience, other wise he might as well be every evil that he'd fought against over the years. Whether that be a rebellion against a crown, a deranged king of the damned or the Burning Legion itself, he insisted to himself that it was imperative not to become less of a man simply because he fought. That said, something needed to be done. "Shouldn't you two be headed home? It's getting late." he said to them, pulling out his waterskin and taking a sip. "Mum sent us for flour and sugar." the girl said, hefting her shoulder tote such that Echo could see the groceries within. He took another sip of water. "Well you wouldn't want to keep her waiting. If you hurry you might make it out to the park afterwards for the sparklers. Maybe even some small fireworks. I hear that the Pandaren just got a new shipment from home." he improvised. The kids looked to each other their faces lighting up at the prospect of a bit of whimsy. The shadow walker reached behind him for his second canteen, though its contents were far more special than his waterskin. After returning from captivity, one of the first things he'd done was to refresh his supplies, but there were gaps in the toolkit. He'd gone to an old friend, a Sunreaver alchemist, for insight. Curiously, the man had been experimenting with making an altered form of arcwine that the Shal'dorei were so fond of. The Sunreaver concoction however was a work of beauty. Imbibing the liquid would render the side effects of drinking alcohol without the frontloaded precursors. It was odorless and tasteless; and with a single good swig it created the same memory blackout that occurred after several rounds of alcoholic beverages. Echo unscrewed the cap and offered it to the children. "Have a little water though, those groceries look heavy. No use overdoing it." he instructed casually. They both accepted the canteen and took a swig each before giving it back to him. "Thanks mister. Maybe we'll see you in the park for fireworks." They told him, waving as they departed. Echo waved then turned back to give a last look at the handiwork he'd hidden from them. He slide his mask back into position, smirking lightly beneath it. Neither child would remember the evening tomorrow when they woke. He synchronized the detonator before slipping off in the shadows towards the harbor once more. "Explosives placed. Moving ahead to see if I can disable one of the ships." he enunciated across the comm. Now the fun started.... @phlareshadowdancer @lone-wolf-howls @wolf-queen
Echo found his way to the coordinates Phlare had specified. Surprisingly, they were only a short distance from his own safehouse in Elwynn. He knocked when he’d gotten there, Phlare greeting him noiselessly with a narrowing of eyes and a nod. It took a little time, but eventually Saithe had made his appearance. As they double checked supplies, Echo unveiled a few scrolls on the table.
“First order of business, the sub controls - just to go over what I know. The HMS Lordaeron takes a minimum crew of 4. Unlike a ship, the controls and steering is a two person job; Phantom can take lateral control. I will assume the Diving Officer station and take care of our depth. Saithe, you’ll be in charge of regulating the X37-ARC power core; gnomish construction and controls. Just keep the color indicators in the green or yellow, any red lining and we’ll have issues. The weapons systems will also be under your hand. Assuming everything went as planned with my last visit to SI:7, the Lordaeron should have been docked for shore leave and resupply for the last two days. Fortunately this means the crew should be absent and all that will be there are a few guards. The Lordaeron docks at pier 5 on the north end so it’s much more isolated that the Kalimdor ferries at pier 1 which means minimal viewing and noise.” he reviewed for them.
Phantom made no motion to contest what he had said as far as the shadow walker could tell leaving the air open for his remaining commentary. “I’ll handle the bombs for the Slaughtered Lamb in the Mage Quarter. If Saithe hits the Tower itself then anything pulled to the west side of the city should be nicely spaced out. If we have enough time after the bombs are placed, it might also be possible for me to disable the rudder chain on one of the ships in the harbor but I’d have to play that by ear.” he concluded, rolling up the documents again.
“If that’s everything, then I’m ready to move when you give the word.” he concluding, sliding his face mask into position and pulling the hood up over his ears and the crest, before his hands fell to the pommels of his daggers.
Phlare had been dreading this day. Down two ghosts, and left with only two Wolves his head spun from the headache forming. It wasn’t nervousness, or even eagerness. The raw truth sank in, Lazurinth being redeployed, Rayarri’s exit of the Wolves, and Caedus being MIA working on his projects, his people were gone. He couldn’t bring Ghosts that weren’t Wolves, and that weighed heavy on him for a few moments.
With a heavy sigh and lazy foot steps, he walked over to the rather large window, leaning in it’s frame as he stared out of the manor towards the garden. Watching Celestine walk her Wolves, he shook his head as his stare narrowed to her curls bouncing lightly in her steps. Plucking a cigarette from behind his ear, he couldn’t help but chuckle as he placed it in the corner of his mouth. “Shadows save the Queen.” He said softly as she began to disappear in the distance. Turning on his heel, his hand drew the silver lighter from the cuff of his glove. With a flick of his thumb and a loud tink from the old metal, a flame ignited. Swiftly brought to the end of his cigarette, he began to walk down the halls of the the manor.
Once reaching the double doors to the front of the home, he took a few quick puffs before tossing the barely smoked cigarette to the stones at his feet. Rolling the mask up over his face, the sinful eyes narrowed in their slits and a sudden hungry came over him. Tension rose from his legs to his shoulders and his fingers figited and flexed in the talon like gloves. Each step he took from then on was soundless, carrying his weight as if he was a feather. The shadows began to break their physical properties, fighting the direction of the setting sun as they followed him, pointing in his direction. With a arrogant snarl under his mask, his own shadow magic curled over his features, wisps licking at his flesh and armor as they grew darker and darker. The deep purples turning black as they mixed with the physical shadows following him.
By the time he could even blink, he was in another place entirely. Ripping through the shadows in that instant to appear in Elwynn Forest. Standing right before the city, entirely unstealth his arms folded across his chest. Peering at the towering gates of the city, his eyes narrowed like daggers. The rumors had been spread, there was a blood thirsty shadow dweller picking off humans in the middle of the night. Spreading hell in their city, bringing the one thing certain in this torn apart world; Death. Nightly, he returned like a fox to a chicken coop, a Wolf to a ground hog hole.
Calling over the Wolves communicator. “Echo, Saithe. Report to the house outside the city in Elwynn Forest.” With his words ending short, he established the link to privately report to Echo and Saithe. “Bring four sets of satchel charges. We’ll be bombing two Taverns, drawing the guards from the submarine. I’ll handle Dwarven District, you two hit the mage district. From there, I’ll head towards the Stockades and set one more set of charges off. We’ll move in the chaos and take the HMS Lordaeron. Masks on, that means you Saithe. Let’s hope this thing has at least two torpedos.. Stop a few ships from tailing us on our way to the South West of Howling Fjord. We’ll be using the chaos on the Ilses for extra cover. Once we’ve docked there, we strip it of any Alliance markings and cover it in ours.”
Shifting his weight, he growled lightly in his tone as the eyes continued to stare at the gates. If he were capable of burning something with his stare, the whole city would of turned to ash. Each passing moment seemed like hours, even if they were mere minutes. Truly, he didn’t want to learn to work with new people. Even if Saithe had taken him in the brawl, and even if Echo’s spy work was rather impressive to the infamous Shadowdancer it wasn’t his own.
“Further more, this is a kill on site mission. If you’re seen, or even think you’ve been heard, slaughter them. Men, women, children, animals. Doesn’t matter, we can’t afford blow back from this, not with the tensions drawing high. I’ll see you both in two hours, we’re down a man.. and a pilot to the submarine so I’m assuming.. Yes, I’m assuming; Echo can pilot, Saithe and I will support. Each wing in the city has twenty to fourty guards. The charges will draw the majority of them out of the harbor, or so I hope. Shadows guide you both, I’ll see you soon.”
The wisps returned to lick at his flesh as he melded into the shadows, making his way to the little house outside of the city. Fumbling with his belt as the children ran into the home. Ripping a single canister free of his belt as the pin released a loud ting. He tossed it in the room, the gas spraying wildly as it’s confines spun rapidly in circles. As the room began to fill, the door was shut and the children began to scream in panic, inhaling the gas quickly. Each action in vein, the more they struggled, the more gas was consumed and before long, they were all sleeping like little bears in a den.
Phlares mask prevented the gas from affecting him aside from the small amount absorbed through his skin. Though as his adrenaline levels continued to rise, he slowly smirked under the thrill of what was to happen. Turning Stormwinds most popular taverns into a fire work show for the griffons above patroling, and a submarine being stolen right out from under their noses.
It felt strange coming back to Stormwind again, but posing as a human never seemed to feel natural. It was the ears, Echo was convinced of that; it seemed to changed his balance and while it wasn't overly inhibiting it also made him feel too mindful of his movements.
He dismounted at the gate as two of the guards came over. The first took the steeds bridle as Echo opened the saddle bag to dig out documentation. "Coming from where sir?" the guard asked.
"Classified. Garrett Mallory, SI:7. I'm expected at the Barracks." he replied in equally foreign feeling Common. It's been years since he'd used the language but the pressure of performance made up for the difference.
After a few moments the guard handed the papers back. "Very good then. For the Alliance."
Echo nodded, declining to cite the call back, as he grabbed his bags off the horse and began to tote them across the Valley of Heroes. He nodded to guards in turn as they gave muted salutes or nods. Passing through the portcullis, the Trade District was bustling with end of day activity, the Auction House to the western side seeing the largest amount of traffic as the business day had just ended. The infiltrator passed through the alley and wall to the canal, skirting the edge of the Cathedral District as he made for the harbor. The overlook was quiet, and he headed north toward the end. Below the pier transitioned into the shipyard as he came to the end of the stone walkway.
Echo carefully checked behind him, then casually surveyed the drop. It was about fifteen feet down to the hill and the tree line. He gave one more check, before dropping the satchel and hopping down after it. It was an uncomfortable landing, the grade of the hill far from ideal; however he didn't twist the ankle and that was the important part. He scanned the port, now under cover of the leaves. The submarine was at the northern pier as Phantom had told him. He dug into the bag and retrieved a set of magnification goggles, tinkering with the settings adjustments before looking down at his quarry.
The submarine looked fairly large, the periscope section about a third of the length back from the vessel's bow. The ship and surrounding dock was quiet now, though a token force of security was still there among the long shadows of the evening's torches. It took him a few moments to scan the sides of the hull, but eventually it lay bare near the keel. "HMS Lordaeron." he muttered under his breath. He shoved the goggles back off his head and powered them down as he stuffed them back into the rucksack before looking back to the wall behind him and slinging the tote over his shoulder.
The construction of Stormwind was great, but the stone was arranged with large gaps in between both the horizontal and vertical seams such that it was possible for a reasonably skilled climber to free scale the wall by wedging their fingers, hands, toes or whatever else into the mortar seams. It took him a few minutes, but he peeked over the top to check it was clear before hoisting himself back up onto the battlement.
Echo moved along the parapet until it opened into the Cemetery gardens. He paused at the gazebo to give a moment of silence for all the losses that both sides had incurred during the counter attack at the Broken Shore, as it was plain to see the graveyard was full of fresh gravestones; the bodies potentially lost but the names and epitaphs there in memoriam now to give those they had left behind solace. The cemetery’s park lead past the Cathedral district and into the canals. Echo moved through the city easily, the layout coming back to him and the unnaturalness of his movements losing their initial discomfort.
The Barracks were a short trip through Old Town and Echo entered inside with a flash of his credentials to the doorman. He wove through the halls to the back rooms, where the old dispatch and intel offices had been as well as all of the observers and handlers - SI:7 office agents that handled logistics of the organization’s missions and even some of the general Alliance military operations.
Damien Quinn, “Garrett Mallory’s” old handler, was at his desk despite the hour when Echo arrived. “You’re working late and you look like shit.” Echo remarked, standing in the doorway.
The old Kul’Tiran spy shook his head with a smirk standing up and beckoning him in. His raspy voice carried through the room back to Echo, “Garrett Mallory.... you gold-plated fart. Finally got tired of sticking your head in the sand then? Can’t say it did much for your complexion.” he replied, offering his compatriot a firm handshake and clap on shoulder.
“Kind of. My contract with that League affiliate company came due. And I can only spend so long in a sandbox before I want to see grass again, you can understand.” he grumbled back, playing the part.
“Point taken.” Quinn replied. “So what brings you back?”
“This is going to get complicated and a little crazy, so bear with me. After Uldum, the company decided to head up Kalimdor to port at Teldrassil and take care of some business there - I’m unsure of the particulars about that of course. However, on route our ship convoy was attacked by a band of Naga skirmishers. I suspected remnants from the Darkshore days, but we found a few things on them including what I guessed was a communication missive. There’s an expert in Nazja at Darnassus I got to consult with when we docked. Our hunch turned out to be correct, and while some of the details were fuzzy, I have a reasonable picture of what they’re planning. It seems this raiding party was dispatched from Azsuna to assess the strength of the Alliance’s forces not yet committed to the Broken Isles. Most importantly, the missive suggested that they were to report back within the next week to aid the Legion forces on the western coast to push in and decimate the Kal’dorei siege forces holding the western front of our joint operation in Suramar City. Best news I could get was that with the state of things now, we’ve been able to contain the demons to Faronaar. But changing the status quo would be bad for us. So I want to take a small team and use the next available submarine we can muster to counter attack the Naga before they can reach the Isles.” he explained, laying out his plan for the handler.
Quinn’s face sunk a bit at the information. “If nothing else, the scouting report wouldn’t hurt; even if you don’t end up engaging the Naga. I’ll get into it, but it should be possible. The Lordaeron came in this evening, but she’s due to depart on a supply run to Valiance Keep. I can requisition her for the following week when she re-docks here to fuel.” he thought aloud.
Echo stroked this made up stubble pensively. “That could work. Can you get my manuals and schematics for that ship class? I’d like to make the team myself and therefore I need them to know how to operate it.” he stated.
Quinn crossed the office to a set of filing cabinets and ruffled through them til he found the folder he was looking for. “A basic layout and end-user design graphics of the gnome’s AFS-538 submarine. Looks like it’s a minimum crew of 4, though optimally I’d take a few more if I were you. No use being careless.” the older man reminded him, scanning the documentation before handing it over.
Echo reached out and accepted the papers before heading for the door. “I’ve got prep work to do then. Just let me know that the requisition went through yea?” he said in departing.
“Will do. Good luck old dog.” Quinn chuckled.
“I can still learn a new trick or two.” Echo said before closing the door and heading out, putting the documents into his tote and leaving the Barracks. Mission had been achieved for now and it was time to let Phantom know that they had a window.
@wolvesof-winter @phlareshadowdancer @wolf-queen
I am the will of Shadows.
I am the thing that lurks in the night.
I have darkness as my ally in striking.
With precision and without mercy, I will paralyze all in my wake..
And you will never see me coming.
I know no name and no form.
I know the power of the unknown.
I am the will of Shadows, the master of darkness.
Against me, there is no light strong enough.
I am the fury of Blades.
I am unafraid of the fight.
I will overpower you with a storm of steel and drain you of will.
Fast and furious I,’ll draw your blood and sap you of the ability to fight.
A relentless offensive is my defense against enemies.
I know energy to fight beyond limits.
I know speed that shows no quarter.
I am the fury of Blades, the flurry and frenzy of combat.
Against me, defeat is inevitable.
I am the call of Death.
I bring the quiet of eternal sleep.
I destroy life with knives and poisons.
In the blink of an eye or so slowly they beg for the end, it does not matter.
Death calls to us all, some will answer sooner than others by my stroke.
I know poisons without antidote.
I know strikes without defense.
I am the call of Death, the relentless harbinger of all.
Against me, the end is inevitable.
I am a Rogue.
I am the end of the line.
