Grim Views

A scroll arrives, made from unremarkable parchment and sealed with a dark purple wax pressed with the sign of the Undercity.

Inquisitors,

Per the Dark Lady's command, I am to immediately solicit admission to the ranks of The Grim, where I am to remain assigned until either Azeroth and all worlds beyond are scoured clean of the Alliance or my bones are ground to dust in the effort.

My shield-arm is strong and my axe sharp--name me Supplicant so that I might put them toward advancing the peace of the Mandate.

Marius Kelgrave
Dreadguard of the Forsaken

The office of the High Inquisitor was in a great state of unkempt. Stacks of missives and correspondences stretched several feet in height. Some had been moved from the desk onto the floor, so high had they risen.

Khorvis sat upon a simple wooden stool and stared at them, rubbing his brow in frustrated dismay. Sighing, he took a scroll perched atop the nearest stack and broke the purple seal. The note seemed urgent and came from one 'Marius Kelgrave'.

"Hrmph. Dreadguard? Might be of some use." The orc set about responding with his usual choice of ink and print.

Kelgrave,

The watch that your brothers do keep has been noted by the Grim. Service unto the Horde comes under many names, and Dreadguard does number among them. The Dark Lady do be wise to recognize the might of the Mandate, though loathe I do imagine her tongue to whisper it aloud.

You will show you face before the Inquisition when next we do gather and state your intent to raise your own Grim banner. Afterwards, only combat, resolve, and sacrifice can win you a tabard of skulls.

Mok'rah,

High Inquisitor Bloodstar