Letter from a recently "Unearthed" Forsaken

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Erscydiol
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Letter from a recently "Unearthed" Forsaken

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Good evening, sisters, brothers, Forsaken, and everyone in between...

I have a letter here from a Forsaken Sister I met recently that I think you will find very interesting...

"Good morrow to whom this may concern. I am War Priest Ayrenthia... or... at least I was. I am not really sure what I am now, and have spent many months in exile wandering the far reaches of the Stormwind region, by Duskwood, where the Dark Forest slowly merges with the jungles of Stranglethorn Vale.... where I used to live.

I will not coat these words with candied sugar. In life, I was War Priest Ayrenthia, War Priest and Sargent of the 73'rd Battalion of the Alliance Military. I fought and killed countless members of the Horde, often with little to no mercy, nor quarter. I took great pride in brandishing propaganda discussing the re-internment, imprisonment, or execution of members of the Horde... an Azeroth free from their, what I worded as "foul taint"...

In one of the final battles for Naz'Jatar, however, fate had a most appropriate and ironic punishment planned for me. Overwhelmed by a surprise assault from combined Horde forces led by the Blackjack Warband, we were quickly overwhelmed... and slaughtered in the brutal way that we slaughtered so many of theirs. The officers of our Unit managed to escape, however, thanks to the sacrifice of the War Priests & Paladins... our sacrifice, but I... I fell to a bloodthirsty Troll's war spear.

I will never forget the look of seething hatred that mirrored mine so many times before, and the painful twisting of a jagged spear inside my belly, serrated edges tearing viciously at my insides. Their leader, it seemed, a cunning and ruthless Sin'Dorei woman seemingly aiming towards a promotion, presented several of the corpses... our* corpses, to a Forsaken emissary at Newhome representing Sylvanas Windrunner herself.

Darkness took me, and the swirling palette of faded blue & orange hues clawed at my mind's eye as I drifted closer to oblivion. Then, and without warning, a sudden and violent whiplash struck me, as I was lurched backwards through time and space towards the material plane of Azeroth. My worst fears had come true... I had been "raised", and in a most uncomfortable fashion at that, by the Banshee Queen's servants, and strung up in what I can only describe as a sort of deprivation chamber for, Light knows how long. After what felt like an eternity chained unceremoniously to a dank, damp wall... I was simply set free. My chains were unshackled, and the door of my prison cell was opened wide before me... and that was that. No purpose, no instructions, no direction, just the sweltering heat and blazing sun of mid-day in Durotar.... Durotar of all places!

It took me what I am told was several weeks of wandering through the scorching heat and jagged mesas before I made my way to Booty Bay, where I was refused service of any kind without "freshening up a bit" first... Goblins. Shortly thereafter, I charted passage to Stranglethorn, and trudged through the Strangling Way, as we used to call it, all the way back up to my old Duskwood home, to my former wife... and child. There they were... my old family, in the distance, through the window of a Darkshire home. Why had I come there, I do not know. I had become the very thing both they and I hated more than anything else in Azeroth. I had become a monster... so I wandered aimlessly once again, lurking the coastline just a few miles off of Grom'Gol. I was lost, my ego shattered, my heart broken and sinking into the depths of my chest cavity. I longed for the warmth of a coastal sun, the feeling of warm sand in my toes, and the sound of ocean water gently lapping against the beach... but I couldn’t feel anything. Most importantly, however, I longed for love... a love that I knew could never return. Then, in the mid-afternoon light, a shadowy figure appeared before me, my benefactor - Ms. Erscydiol Blackstone.

Ms. Blackstone nurtured my fractured emotional state and took great care while escorting this ruined woman back to the Horde outpost of Grom'Gol, where the Orcish soldiers stationed there side-eyed us the entire time. "Even our own people don't trust us anymore," she said to me, "but I know of people who do." With that, here I find myself before you, this shadowy and lofty organization of "The Grim" that needs no introduction to a former soldier of the Alliance. I wish for this to be a formal letter of intent to join your outfit, on behalf of my benefactor, Ms. Erscydiol Blackstone, Warbringer, I am told is the proper title, of The Grim... though her dubious glee at referring me here gave me pause for concern... Regardless, I can offer a decade of experience as a War Priest, and... perhaps here I will find what Ms. Blackstone had offered... a family."

Sincerely,
{Fallen} War Priest Ayrenthia Brihtmanus II

- - - "You're welcome" ;)
- - Erscydiol Blackstone, Warbringer, Grim - "Peace through Annihilation!"
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