The Goblins will suffer
Lupen - March 22, 2006
The springtime dusk had been unseasonably warm… Despite the fact
that Stranglethorn Vale was always warm and humid. Booty Bay had
received little commerce that day, both Alliance and Horde were
out on Azeroth questing, killing, and exploring.
The boat had moored on the single dock extending from the eastern
side of the Goblin town. Only one had stepped off the boat
(though the mangled remains of a Dwarf were hidden in one of the
cabins), a figure of an average size, and a rather thin stature.
Its clothes could be described as “demonic” or “otherworldly”.
The robe the creature dawned was a deep purple with pale skulls
lining the breast. The shoulders were a slightly lighter shade of
purple, adorned with Goats’ Baphomet skulls. The gloves were
tight on the slender claws of the creature. The face of the
entity was obscured by a large hood that seemed to meld
seamlessly with the rest of its outfit. The facial expressions
could not be seen, but the eyes glowed a crimson red.
It stepped slowly off the ship, down towards Captain Smott. The
Bruisers eyed the figure, it walked with a nasty hunched-back,
its bony arms hung at its side, and its breathing was slow and
heavy. The Bruisers were used to such odd characters in the port,
they paid little attention afterward.
The thing made its way to the local Tavern, stopping to eye the
sleeping drunks in and outside of the bar itself. The dark figure
took a seat at the center barstool. The innkeeper, cleaning an
empty glass in a cliché style plainly said, “What’ll it be?”
without taking the time to look up at his potential customer. The
creature did not respond, it only looked down at the wooden
counter. The Goblin, in a bit of a more annoyed tone, looked to
the newcomer and said, “What will it be?” Still nothing. The
Goblin snorted and asked, sounding rather short, “Are you going
to have anything?” The creature looked up, its red eyes met the
brown ones of the bartender. The creature nodded slightly and put
his open palm an inch away from the Goblin’s outrageously long
nose. “Death.” It muttered. The Goblin went from his usual dark
olive skin tone, to a pale-moon white as shadows and fire began
to amass at the center of the Warlock’s hand. The innkeeper could
not move, could not shout, but could only stare at his impending
doom.
“Curse you, Goblins.” The warlock calmly said before the
Bartender was ripped apart by the blast of nether energy. The
half-dead entity emitted a shrill cry before crashing into
various liquor bottles and embracing death’s cold touch. The cry
alerted nearby Bruisers who lumbered in their usual sloth to the
Bar, expecting nothing more than a drunken fight. When the two
entered, they were near stunned by their surroundings. Death,
gloom, and doom surrounded them. Two dead Goblins, one Gnome, and
a Blackwater raider lay in various places, all with expressions
of horror upon their faces. The creature was snacking on one of
the dead Goblins, when the first Bruiser readied his rifle. The
distinct “click” of the gun alerted the Warlock. It stood fully
erect now, blood staining its robe.
“Fools.” It said while the shell barely missed its right side.
“Have you little idea what you face? Go Jhorantia!” The succubus
appeared from her state of lesser invisibility and struck the
left Bruiser upon the tip of the spine, knocking it out cold. The
other Bruiser stood, surrounded, afraid. The fool attempted to
rush the dark-mage, but only was torn by fire. “I am finished
here.” The thing said, as it immolated the spilt liquor and
watched the Tavern go up in flames.
A day later, in the Grim hall, a note written in blood was
posted.
“Grims,
The time for my rage on the Green-Skins has come. I am formally
declaring a personal war with Booty Bay, and the rest of the
Cartel. I do this not for honour among the Bloodsails, but for my
own personal reasons. Join me if you wish, ignore me if you must.
Stay away from Booty Bay.
-Lupen, Dread Magus”
[Warneshi]
Warneshi made haste to his embassy after reading the note posted
to the Grim walls. Warneshi quickly drafted an order to his
commanders; the Sandfury had been growing, and Warneshi needed a
good fight to show the world the Sandfury would never remain dead
from this world.
After handing the orders to his messangers, Warneshi drafted a
letter to his brother Grim.
Lupen
It has occured to me that in your rage you have taken it upon
yourself to wage war against the Cartel. Long have these damn
goblins carved up the Sandfury homeland for their own profit, it
is time they realised that the sands have eyes, and blades. I
commit the might of the Sandfury nation to this conflict, 100
strong will strike against the Cartel position of Gadgetzan, and
another 50 against the port of ratchet. All of my warriors to
your cause brother Lupen. My warriors will not hold these lands,
only slaughter them; those goblins that return to their homes
will only find death and ash. My personal guard and I shall
strike the port of booty bay with you. The goblins will know of
their mistakes in trying to take what was not theirs, the
Sandfury will harvest their souls that day; may no goblin know an
afterlife when our wrath rains down upon them.
Warneshi Sandscalp
King of the Sandfury Trolls Tyrant of Zul'Farrak