#moonbrook

[boyslit-moving]

spoilers and yelling because I'm biting on my tongue trying not to scream at the tv

AAAAAAAAAAAGHGHGH SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP I HATE YOU I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH IM GOING TO GRIND YOUR FACE INTO THE DIRT UNTIL YOU SUFFOCATE IN IT YOU SHITTY LITTLE HYPOCRITE

[australisarts]

Doing some more farming in Moonbrook! (Stardew Valley Stream)

[imperial-scrolls-of-honor]

"Not tryna be mean, but your cousin is a real dog." "..."

[veleisa]

I remember these guys. They were so overpowered it was ridiculous!

This was me in Moonbrook during Vanilla:

*Walks into a house & peers around a corner*

-FIREBALL FIREBALL FIREBALL-

*dead*

[jester4554wowfanfic]

Rage of the Blade Song - 8

10,000 years later

Moonbrook...probably one of the trashiest, dirtiest places Ouroboros Bladesong ever had the displeasure of being made to visit. The buildings were in shambles and disrepair from years of weathering wind swells and near constant exposure to sunlight, with little to no incentive on anybody's part to patch them up. Those living in the shady town fared little better. Most of the people who lived there sat or walked around in nothing but dirty rags, rambling about a kingdom turned against them, and a bottle in their hand; those who were a cut of grain above the rest were cutthroats and thieves, brigands who fed on each other as much as those who passed by. Yet, no matter their method of dealing with the situation, the citizens of Moonbrook shared one thing in common with one another - all were poor.

And the Night Elf swordsman still found that, in some ways, it was more favorable there than Stormwind City. At least here he knew who to hide his coin-purse from and keep his eyes on, after all, it's not like they did much to try and hide themselves.

Scanning the crowd currently walking about, many of those walking the street matched the scruffy look he was told to expect, but Ouroboros found himself unable to spot people he was looking for. He doubted that the gang members he was hired to track down would be wearing anything too out-of-place in the decrepit town, but the Elven swordsman was told to keep a lookout for any wearing red cloths.

The land of Westfall had always had problems, many that dated all the way back to when Stormwind City was rebuilt after the Alliance's first war against the Horde; most of these problems were economical. A land with a community that mostly consisted of farmers and small traders, it was never an ideal trading hub and little money found itself into the region. However, as of late, the people living in the land had grown disgruntled with their poor straits, and, from this frustration, a brotherhood of criminals was born. In order to recognize one another these vagabonds had taken to wearing bolts of red cloth around their neck or fixed somewhere on their clothing. Their unity made them brazen, but, in the end, this brotherhood was nothing more than an organized group of thugs.

Being a simple mercenary, dealing with the group as a whole wasn't his job, but a task for the military. Instead, Ouroboros' search was more specific and the job more personal; all he had to do was find three men in the brotherhood. When he accepted the job he thought it would have been easy, but the Elf was finding the task a bit more difficult than first imagined. Still, there was no way in hell Ouroboros had any intentions of heading back, not when the pay was so good and he had potential to make even more. Besides that, the client was so livid when Ouroboros showed up that the swordsman was worried he'd be next on the nobleman's hit list.

Those bastards think they can do whatever they want because they say they're a part of the Defias. Fine then, we'll play ball with 'em. You'll be able to recognize the sonsofbitches by the red bandannas they like to wear around their necks. Hell, you might even strangle a couple of 'em with their own fucking cloth! By the way, I'll pay you an extra twenty-five gold if you bring me their cocks wrapped in those bloody bandannas!

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Ouroboros Bladesong pressed on into the throng.

Standing at the edge of Moonbrook the armored swordsman hadn't garnered much attention from the disgruntled rabble as a mere onlooker, and why not? They were used to people staring at them like they were trash. However, walking into their midst was another matter entirely. Especially when the visitor was a tall, handsome Elf covered in a fine suit of plated metal armor - simple yet elegant for easy movement. Instead of a rough beard like many of the men in town sported, his was obviously well-groomed, and even the dignified way in which he walked made it seem as though his life had been bereft of hardship. As he passed through, many of the citizens eyed him with either disdain or a vacant expression, though they seemed to glower most at his flowing mane of dark violet hair. Yet behind all their eyes he thought he saw a great hunger with envy as its master.

Ouroboros did his best to ignore the stares, even when he noticed from the corner of his eye some of the folk pulling out knives and playing at them with threatening gestures. Still, he doubted that there were any in the town who would actually attempt anything against him, after all, his family broadsword, The Blade Song, was strapped to his back for all to see and was probably the greatest deterrent he had.

He instead kept his focus on the inn as he walked through the town. Aside from the warehouse and clock tower rising from the town hall, the inn was easily the largest building in Moonbrook. If the men he was looking for were hiding somewhere in town, it was very likely that the barkeeper would have heard something about them.

---

The inn was more empty than he'd expected it to be, yet still too crowded for the Elf to feel at ease. Most of the patrons sat huddled around small tables playing cards or some other game with each other, a few were drinking quietly at the bar, and there was a couple loitering by the stairs. Giving the tavern goers a quick glance, he could spot none of the red bandannas the client told him to be on the look for. Not that he was discouraged by that fact, Ouroboros hadn't really been expecting the gang to be hiding out at an inn during the day, even if it was in Moonbrook. Standing behind a bar toward the back of the room and near the kitchens was the man who no doubt ran the place. Since stepping foot inside, the barkeeper hadn't taken his eyes off the swordsman for a single moment, and Ouroboros thought it about time he talked to the man directly.

As he approached, the man greeted him with a sneer that suggested Ouroboros should back off, though he somehow continued to smile. However, he didn't retreat, and Ouroboros continued to move closer.

Before he could say a word, the barkeep spoke. "An Elf? Fancy that...we don't see too many of your kind 'round these parts."

"Sir-"

"We'd figure as much though. Town must be too dirty for fancy folk like yourself, isn't it? I hear your kind like ta live in the trees. Well...ain't got too many of those 'round here neither."

"I'd only like to ask-"

"Then again, you don't look like one of them pretty Elf's most others go on about. The way I hear your kind described I'd have imagined that you would look a little more kingly, maybe with some flowin' robes or a bit o' that fancy leather armor with a great big bow on your back. Cause right now...right now you look like any ol' grubby soldier to me."

"I want to know where the three men are who attacked a noble woman the other day are hiding."

The barkeeper shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Shame 'bout that, I heard about it all the way out in these parts. Happened over at Sentinel Hill, eh? What makes ya think your bandits woulda come all the way out here for hidin'?"

Ouroboros smiled, a flash of white in his cropped beard. "Because I heard this is where all the trash likes to gather."

"Is that so? Well perhaps you heard wrong then, can't imagine how so with those long ears of yours, but I guess there's a first for everythin', ain't there? Maybe you should take your question ta the mines..."

Ouroboros was getting tired of playing games with the man quite quickly. The mines, which were tunneled out beneath the Moonbrook warehouse, stretched on for several miles. Most people referred to them as the Deadmines, for that was where the Defias once made their home long ago before the band of brigands was broken up. They attempted to reform, led by their original leader's daughter, but eventually she too was put to death just like her father. Now the mines served to give the less fortunate a place to rest, and those with ill-intent a place to cower. If the swordsman went chasing down there for answers he'd likely receive only silence, or, more likely, a knife in the back.

He slammed his plated fists on the counter top, startling the barkeep and causing his snicker to vanish. "Enough with the games! Tell me about the men I'm looking for, and where I can find them, or I'll start taking heads in here as well! Do you honestly think anybody outside this miserable, rat infested town will miss any of you?"

The barkeeper swallowed and backed against the wall, close to the kitchen entrance, but said nothing. A few droplets of sweat formed atop his forehead as he cowed before the Night Elf's intense gaze. Shocked by the sudden outburst, the patrons went quiet and stared uneasily at the swordsman threatening violence; one or two stood up to leave.

"So are you going to tell me what I want to know or what?"

The tavern owner had nowhere to go, though he did look at his options. If he ran back into the kitchens the farthest he could hope to go was the cellars, and possibly lose him amid the barrels of ale stored down below, but something told the man that he wouldn't be able to lose the Elf so easily. He could attempt to make a dash past the swordsman, but...

"Hey Elf, word around town is that you've been lookin' for my boys and I. That true?"

As Ouroboros turned around to face the person speaking to him, the barkeeper slunk around the corner to hide in the kitchens.

The man speaking was young, probably in his twenties, as were his friends on either side of him. The one who spoke, who stood in the middle at the forefront had on a light brown leather chest piece, with matching pants, boots, and gloves cut off at the fingertips. Wrapped around his neck was the blood-red bandanna infamous for the Defias.

"Well that depends... Are you the one's responsible for the rape of a noblewoman over at Sentinel Hill?"

"Rape? Is that what they're callin' it? Can't say it rings a bell I'm 'fraid, after all, we thought she was there for charity service... Thought she was all willin' to serve the communities needs." As the men started to snicker among themselves they pulled the bandannas up over their face, and also pulled knives from their belts and boots.

At the same time, Ouroboros Bladesong unsheathed his own great sword while the remaining tavern patrons abandoned the building. "You're a disgrace to your people..."

---

He could hear the noble long before he could see the man.

"That mercenary better have good news for me! If he's coming back to say he couldn't find the men who did this I'll have that whole stink hole burned to the ground!"

To the Night Elf's surprise, his client had become even more foul-tempered than before he hired his services. After his previously unsuccessful attempts with the job, it wasn't very difficult to imagine why, but Ouroboros still felt a sting that his skills were being doubted. Soon enough the nobleman who hired him to track down the thugs responsible for assaulting his daughter came whirling down the stairway.

"I hope- what the hell? You look like shit."

Even before the noble was all the way down the stairs, he laid eyes on Ouroboros Bladesong. Standing in the midst of his entrance hall to await his payment, the Elven swordsman's armor was splattered with dried blood. "Only covered in it sir."

The noble finished walking the rest of the way and approached the mercenary. "My my... You look to have certainly been busy. I hope that," he motioned to the blood stains on the armor, "belongs to those unruly pests who thought they could get away with hurting my family."

"Indeed it does my lord, and they were most generous in giving it to me."

"Really, I find that hard to believe."

"Well it was easy enough to take at least."

The noble laughed harshly. "Splendid! I can't tell you how much it pleases me to hear that those filthy cretins got what was coming to them! You got all three of them, right?" He reached for the larger of pouches hanging from his belt and tossed it to the Night Elf, who deftly caught it with a single hand. "That's a hundred gold pieces for you-"

"Hold on there Sir, I'd also like to cash in on the bonus."

Ouroboros raised his other hand to hold up a bundle of red cloth, with even more red stains toward the center. He motioned for the manservant to take the bloody makeshift sack from him, but the man appeared hesitant until his Lord nodded for him to retrieve it. The butler sniffed in disdain as he took the weighty sack, and brought it to his master. The nobleman had him open it slightly; Ouroboros grinned with amusement as the servant turned his head away in disgust.

"Three heads... Fair enough, I guess you've earned the other seventy-five." He unfastened the smaller pouch hanging from his waist next and tossed that too toward the Night Elf. "Try not to spend that all in one place, eh?"

"Wouldn't even dream of it."

"Jockliue, show Mr. Bladesong to the door while I go and tell my daughter the good news."

But Ouroboros had already walking back as soon as he had the entire payment in hand. Without waiting for the butler to catch up and open the door, the Night Elf walked out himself, leaving the door open for the manservant to close. Not far from the home he'd just left was the Cathedral of Light. He was in the richest district in Stormwind; no place for a mercenary with a poultry sum of a hundred and seventy-five gold pieces...give or take what he had stored away.

There was only a few places a guy like him had to go if he wanted to spend his gold after a hard days work, and that was Old Town.