Encased in an envelope that looks like it traveled well in the neglected section of a satchel sits half opened with soft tears around the edges. On the front is scribbling that is only barely legible, the penmanship looking kile it was written after turning five times blindfolded.
Unfortunately, the contents of the letter hold spelling mistakes that only make the dissatisfying, uneven writing even more jarring. Written:
My name is Jakovos.
I find meself at odds with the leeders of this Horde. All ways. For a very long, long time. They all ways try to appeel to the fragile wims of those who don't no what it takes. Pease will not make us strong. I want to be a part of a groop that can see what needs be done.
My riting is not my strongest. Konsider meeting me so my spokken words may be herd.
A letter that has seen better days.
Moderator: Officers
Re: A letter that has seen better days.
The rhythm of his office was returning to Khorvis as a steady stream of letters worked their way across the desk of Resolve. A goblin courier would arrive, depositing a stack of envelopes in a steel trap of an inbox. Sometimes it would be a raven or dragonhawk. Other times ghostly orbs excreted their contents in a pulse of ectoplasm and parchment. There had even been a stone tablet from an Ogre clan in the Bladespire Mountains, though that had been delivered in error (intended for a mail-order bride company purporting to "rescue" displaced Ogresses in the Twilight Highlands after the defeat of Cho'gall).
Always they spoke of the same cravings for the blood of the Alliance or assorted groups responsible for perceived slights against the Horde and kin, no matter how petty. Khorvis relished in the candid hatred. The things individuals would say in private brought a foul smile to his disfigured face.
It was with that grim joy that the High Inquisitor used his Blackrock dagger to slice open the letter from Jakovos, humming an ogre battle-hymn to himself and scanning the poorly written contents. He grunted, knowing himself to not be among the strongest of writers, but even he was irritated by the grammar of what may very well be the ramblings of a trog.
Still, the Mandate did not discriminate against the feeble-minded, only those of feeble will. Khorvis licked the nib of his arachnid-shell pen, dipped it into his phial of incarnadine ink, and set a response to paper that he hoped would prove the least taxing to the recipient's precarious mind.
Always they spoke of the same cravings for the blood of the Alliance or assorted groups responsible for perceived slights against the Horde and kin, no matter how petty. Khorvis relished in the candid hatred. The things individuals would say in private brought a foul smile to his disfigured face.
It was with that grim joy that the High Inquisitor used his Blackrock dagger to slice open the letter from Jakovos, humming an ogre battle-hymn to himself and scanning the poorly written contents. He grunted, knowing himself to not be among the strongest of writers, but even he was irritated by the grammar of what may very well be the ramblings of a trog.
Still, the Mandate did not discriminate against the feeble-minded, only those of feeble will. Khorvis licked the nib of his arachnid-shell pen, dipped it into his phial of incarnadine ink, and set a response to paper that he hoped would prove the least taxing to the recipient's precarious mind.
Aspirant Jakovos,
You do be right. Peace only comes from strength. Grim show strength to enemy. You meet me and show your strength and skill. Find me before this week's end in Orgrimmar.
Peace through annihilation,
Khorvis Bloodstar
