[RP] The Filthy Animal Inn

After having lost Idara and Malignant to the plague, they traveled to Moonglade where the Druids were holding the last safe heaven in Azeroth. There they made plans to join the forces heading into Northrend, but as they were about to launch their attack upon the Lich King, reports of the greatest Scourge invasion yet reached them. And so they fought. They fought to defend their homes. They fought for the right to live their lives in peace. But mostly they fought to avenge their beloved ones who were now forever lost.

Shortly thereafter, Masque fell ill. It turned out he too had been infected by the plague, though it devoured him much slower then many of the others, his Undead body having proved more resistant. It was a slow and painful thing to watch, but watch she did. She spent every day by his side lending him strength when she herself had none. Pouring hope into his ear where she herself felt she was beyond all hope, watching him grow ever weaker until he one day did not stir again. She stayed with him for another day and night after his passing- saying her goodbyes, vowing to take revenge and making plans.

Then she went off to face the Lich King and his minions – a woman with no hopes and dream, no joy or tears – just a numbed soul and an iron determination of vengeance. 

That was then. 

 

Sitting in The Filthy Animal Inn at one of the long tables she watched the people around her. Adventurers and mercenaries brought here by fates similar to hers or the promise of fame and fortune were coming and going. She had hoped for the chance of a quite meal, but it was starting to become evident that this was not going to be it. Too many people were crowded by the door where Innkeeper Uda was trying to sort out how many beds she had left to offer for the night. She would not have room for them all, so some would surely be forced to turn to the Sewers Inn. Despite its dampness and shady location, it was still better then sleeping in the gutter facing the frigid Northrend nights outdoors.

None of them had expected the cold when they stormed the continent driven by rage and pain. It had a life of its own, making its way in under your clothes, chilling you to the bones. Not even the dwarfs were used to this kind of weather.

A thud startled her and she woke up from her thoughts to see her stew had been served. It had been a long day spent hunting shoveltusk for meat and doing odd jobs to pay all the bills. Chilled and hungry she turned her attention to the task at hand. She ate systematically, knowing that the warmth would strengthen her and relax her stiff muscles. It seemed like this cursed continent slowly froze your soul and made the life leech out of you. She could not remember the last time she had felt warm and she felt that no food or spirits would ever warm her up again. She was just so cold. So cold and tired that she simply could not bring herself to feel things anymore.

There was a time when she had raged like the fires of the Blackrock Mountains, swearing vengeance on the Lich King for the pain he had caused her. There was a time when she had cried endless tears into her pillow, her heart aching for all those she had lost. There were no tears left to cry, no fire to warm her soul, all she had left was the promise she had made to her companion, to one day avenge him.

Having finished her dinner, she waved over one of the Barmaids and ordered a pint of cheap beer that she spiced with some Moonshine she had bought off of a shady character down in the sewer district. Hopefully, she would get some sleep tonight and if she washed down the whole bottle of Moonshine she might even be able to escape those horrible dreams from which she invariably woke up screaming to the displeasure of the Inn’s other residents.

With her back against the wall, watching the flames in the fireplace lick the logs, she sunk back into her thoughts. As the flow of people grew thinner and the noise died down she eventually fell asleep aided by the drunken haze brought on by the alcohol she had consumed.

This time she managed to escape the dreams, but morning greeted her with a thundering headache and a bitter taste in her mouth as she woke up stiff on the bench were she had dozed off the night before.

 

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The Good Old Days

So I was cleaning up the bank again the other day (no, this is not a disorder, what is wrong with wanting to have things in alphabetical order and clean of dust I ask you?). Anyway, I was cleaning up my bank again the other day when I realised one of the bags I had been using actually had a tear in it. I took it out and patched it up, but before I put it back I realised something had fallen out of it, something I had long forgotten I had: my old journal.

I have to admit, flipping through the pages brought back old and fold memories of times when we used to think things were simple, that the Blackrock Mountains contained some of the biggest threats and the greatest secrets of magic and power. Boy, were we ever wrong!

Still, it was nice looking back at all the things me and my Puppet Masters have accomplished. And since you are all very special friends, I will let you have a little peak yourselves. If you enjoy it, I might let you see more of them.

Just be warned: He who laughs at us will burn for eternity! Laughing alongside us is allowed.

Are you ready?

Brace yourselves.

Here is what I wrote down after having ventured into the fallen Gnome City of Gnomeregan:

There’s No Place Like Gnome

Let’s face it. There’s no creature so vile, so wicked as the Gnome. Small, puny creatures with over-sized heads and ears, it is disgusting to just think of them. Alas, we would not have touched them even with tweezers, were it not for the fact that Nogg, a friend of ours who resides in Orgrimmar, needed our help. These wicked gnomes had stolen one of his magic trinkets, a ring to be more precise. Of course the Masters of the Voodoo are not heartless and are known to leap to help out, whenever a friend is in need. So it came that we ventured into the labyrinths of the long lost gnome city of Gnomeregan to retrieve Nogg’s ring and search for other bounty these wicked creatures had stolen for themselves. Needless to say, the gnomes and their engineered trinkets posed no threat to us, we gathered up the little creatures and executed them swiftly. Hopefully Nogg can now rest assured at night, that no filthy gnomes lure in the darkness, lusting for his shineys.

Aendi caught in a compromising position: retching at the sight of an ugly gnome.

Hm, that sure was a long time ago… I had forgotten how much I detested gnomes back then, I guess seeing them in Shattrath all day has dulled my dislike.

This next one is from when we had accomplished a mission for the Horde down in Uldaman. I managed to snap a picture just as Masque placed the staff used as a key to imprison Ironia.

Corrupted Creations

We have now ventured into the depths of the ruins of a lost civilisation, into the depths of Uldaman. Remnants of old dwarf magic linger still, proof of their evil twisted minds. We did our best to cleanse the place of evil and to recover the Platina Discs the dwarfs stole from the champions of the Horde centuries ago. Mission accomplished.

My, that place had a serious problem with Trogg-infestation! Still, we did manage to reveal a few secrets that improved our knowledge about how magic works.

I’ll share one last memory with you for now: This is from back when we first managed to scramble up the money to invest in mounts:

Wealth Comes to Those Worthy

We have had quite a few adventures by now, having fought the corrupted humans of the Scarlet Order, the vile pigmen creatures of Razorfen, the Nagas i the depths of Blackfathom and countless other wielders of wicked magic. Of course this being no small feat the word has spread and our ability to deliver swift judgement to those in the wrong has become widely renown. This has lead to us being showered with gifts, in the hope to win our allegiance and keep our wrath of vindication far from the givers doorstep.

With the money resulting from all this, we have now purchased mounts, so we may deliver our justice even swifter then until now.

Idara, the Puppet Mistress of Vindication, has after making a considerable donation to the Masters of the Paladin Order, been taught the ritual of summoning an astral warhorse. This is no mere horse of this world, but a creature from a more noble plane, with nerves of steel and as brave as the Paladin who commands it.

Anaesthesia, the Puppet Master of favorable Afflictions, visited the high warlock priests and learned the ritual of binding a daemon soul to this plane as a means of transportation. A steed of nightmare, with burning breath and hooves of flame, horrible and powerful, is the daemon enslaved by this Puppet Master, again proving the greatness of his power.

Masque, the Puppet Master of the Afterlife, has performed a magnificent Voodoo Ritual, to reanimate the skeletal corpse of a horse and uses it as his mount. The stench of the patches of rotting flesh is enough to let all enemies know that Masque is not one to be taken lightly.

As for me, Aendi, the Voodoo Queen herself, I have chosen to purchase a Hawkstrider, the most prized and exclusive mounts trained by the Bloodelves themselves. Who knows what horrid Bloodmagic this creature was forced to endure during its training… the mere thought of it is enough to send trembles of excitement down my spine. This is indeed a mount fit for a Queen.

Again, that really was a long time ago! We were so young and so inexperienced, still you can tell we had great ambitions back then already, can you not?

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Brewdoo Magic!

I’m working on a top secret project at the moment… yeah let us call it that… project… so that should vaguely explain why I have been absent for so long. I am not giving you any more hints as to what I have been up to, no matter how much you beg. Well, maybe if you really put your heart and souls into it, I might be persuaded to share some more information, but you would have to do some first class begging for it.

Anywho, anyhow and in-between… Here is the inside scoop from my Brewfest celebration. I only had the chance to join in for one day, since… well, as I said: secret project-thing going on.

And since pictures say more then an thousand words, here they are: enjoy!

Kanishi and I are getting ready to face Corin Direbrew.

The gang relaxing after having had their way with the Direbrew-pansy Corin. (Kanishi is off stealthing somewhere…)

So after having slapped Corin Direbrew around for a while, we went back to Orgrimmar to have a few drinks. Imagine my surprize when I found a fellow master of the Voodoo Arts. It seems he has used his knowledge of the Voodoo Magic to create soemthing totally new: Brewdoo Magic! Of course we ended up having more the a few pints of Brewdoo. Please do not ask what happened after that… It all is a tad blurry…

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