Tired after a fierce battle with Garrosh, you ride toward the guild hall. A few steps from the door you hear a sinister laugh you do not recognize. As you lean in to listen closer, the door barges open flinging you aside. Emitting a strange red glow, Knithawk bursts out of the door on his war-wolf not noticing you. As Knithawk rides away you step into the hall. Above the doorway, you see the head of a goblin, hanging by a single ice-shard pierced through his nose and into the door frame. Upon further inspection, you realize it is the head of Kyfur, and his scalp had an inscription on it that read:
Brethren,
While you where fighting alongside the alliance, I found someone who craves souls like myself. His name is Ordos, and he has powers I have never seen. I am obligated now to harvest souls for him. If anyone wishes to join us, seek me out on the timeless isle.
Knithawk
P.S. The goblin owed me gold
Knithawk loses it
Re: Knithawk loses it
Upon entering the guild hall to find what was left by Knithawk, Aureliyas eyes narrowed with cold anger. Turning on heel, she went off in search of the Commander and the rest of the irreedeemables and dreadweavers. They had much to discuss.
Re: Knithawk loses it
Mage Knithawk,
You have failed to prove yourself worthy of combat with The Grim on battle fields. You fail to arrive at any of the assaults which I lead. You now choose to serve a weak God that has been slain any time he stands before a Grim. You have chosen poorly.
Know this Mage Knithawk, you have a short opportunity to come back to your sense. All Grim this day forward will seek to cleanse you of your servitude to the weak fire god. They are to attack you on sight. If you slay them once they attack, they deserve their death. If you engage any Grim without first being attacked, consider yourself on grounds for removal and further relentless hunting.
Signed,
Irredeemable Senior Sergent Fanyare
You have failed to prove yourself worthy of combat with The Grim on battle fields. You fail to arrive at any of the assaults which I lead. You now choose to serve a weak God that has been slain any time he stands before a Grim. You have chosen poorly.
Know this Mage Knithawk, you have a short opportunity to come back to your sense. All Grim this day forward will seek to cleanse you of your servitude to the weak fire god. They are to attack you on sight. If you slay them once they attack, they deserve their death. If you engage any Grim without first being attacked, consider yourself on grounds for removal and further relentless hunting.
Signed,
Irredeemable Senior Sergent Fanyare
Re: Knithawk loses it
Awatu looks over the brief reports of the recent events. A Minion killed by his own keeper. Hardly a waste, really. The name did not ring within his mind and it was a Goblin. Less of them would make the world a better place. Still...
He grinned. This magus. The one who struck down a brother of the Mandate. He has weakened us, whether he realizes it or not. An asset lost and a crime committed.
His grin grows. This Forsaken, who has given himself freely to a lesser being. His weak mind has fallen into the realm of madness. Not insanity that plagues the mind of, well, the Insane One. No, her mind still contains some lucidity. Some meager form of sense that keeps her in line with the Mandate. She is still useful.
He chuckles, a low and dark noise. This one has forsaken his usefulness. The Grim is weaker because of his presence and so, to grow stronger, the weakness must be removed. Oh, the possibilities...
The tauren slowly walked down the many corridors of the Hall, a dark grin on his face and and a low rumble in his throat.
"This one. He will be an example."
He grinned. This magus. The one who struck down a brother of the Mandate. He has weakened us, whether he realizes it or not. An asset lost and a crime committed.
His grin grows. This Forsaken, who has given himself freely to a lesser being. His weak mind has fallen into the realm of madness. Not insanity that plagues the mind of, well, the Insane One. No, her mind still contains some lucidity. Some meager form of sense that keeps her in line with the Mandate. She is still useful.
He chuckles, a low and dark noise. This one has forsaken his usefulness. The Grim is weaker because of his presence and so, to grow stronger, the weakness must be removed. Oh, the possibilities...
The tauren slowly walked down the many corridors of the Hall, a dark grin on his face and and a low rumble in his throat.
"This one. He will be an example."
Re: Knithawk loses it
After many days had passed by with no word of resolution, Aureliya penned a letter to the mage, sending it via Goblin Post.
To the one who calls himself Knithawk,
It is a mystery to me why your death has not already been ordered, and an even bigger mystery why you still wear the tabard. In my eyes, you are no longer Grim. A true Grim fights to uphold the Mandate. You have allowed yourself to become the very thing we fight against. To know that you have allowed your mind to be corrupted by this 'Ordos' disgusts me. To know that you have turned your blades against one of our own in the name of some false god is unforgivable. You are an embarrassment to the guild, and our Mandate. If it were up to me, the tabard would be burned from your body and you yourself would be reduced to nothing but ash.
You are not Grim. You are nothing but a Traitor.
High Inquisitor Aureliya Raindawn
To the one who calls himself Knithawk,
It is a mystery to me why your death has not already been ordered, and an even bigger mystery why you still wear the tabard. In my eyes, you are no longer Grim. A true Grim fights to uphold the Mandate. You have allowed yourself to become the very thing we fight against. To know that you have allowed your mind to be corrupted by this 'Ordos' disgusts me. To know that you have turned your blades against one of our own in the name of some false god is unforgivable. You are an embarrassment to the guild, and our Mandate. If it were up to me, the tabard would be burned from your body and you yourself would be reduced to nothing but ash.
You are not Grim. You are nothing but a Traitor.
High Inquisitor Aureliya Raindawn
Re: Knithawk loses it
A box arrives on the doorstep to the hall marked: "Aurelya"
Inside the box is the head of a human with a letter shoved in his mouth that reads:
How dare you say I don't serve the mandate? Peace through annihilation is what I am here for! I uphold the mandate at any cost and because of this, I wear my tabard proudly. I may serve Ordos, however being Grim will always take first priority. That goblin had it coming. He knocked me out and stole everything I owned. Little bastard even stole my undergarments!
What surprises me is no one has come to seek me out. Feel free to come kill me on the isle! I'm anxious to spit on your corpse after I gnaw on your pretty throat!
Love,
Knithawk
Inside the box is the head of a human with a letter shoved in his mouth that reads:
How dare you say I don't serve the mandate? Peace through annihilation is what I am here for! I uphold the mandate at any cost and because of this, I wear my tabard proudly. I may serve Ordos, however being Grim will always take first priority. That goblin had it coming. He knocked me out and stole everything I owned. Little bastard even stole my undergarments!
What surprises me is no one has come to seek me out. Feel free to come kill me on the isle! I'm anxious to spit on your corpse after I gnaw on your pretty throat!
Love,
Knithawk
Last edited by Knithawk on Mon Oct 21, 2013 1:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.
PEACE THROUGH ANNIHILATION, AT ANY COST!
Re: Knithawk loses it
Apparently, it had been a few days since Knithawk went a bit wild, leaving a decomposing head in the very guild halls of the Grim. Bloodshine had come to drop off some supplies, and encountered the head, still littering their proud halls with jaw hanging like the jowls of an overweight gnome. She had heard about this, but why hadn't anyone cleaned it up? Ah, perhaps the battles and the wars have distracted her brethren....and well, Bloodshine sure as hell wasn't going to remove the head. She rather liked it there, even if it spoke of a dark crime against her brothers and sisters. It reminded her of the times in her homeland, where barbaric crimes, even against your own, were frequent and accepted as a mere part of a days work.
She caught sight of the box that was waiting for Aureliya, and then called out to her, quite impatient to see what was within. Just like a spoiled child at a friend's birthday party, Bloodshine wanted to see.
She caught sight of the box that was waiting for Aureliya, and then called out to her, quite impatient to see what was within. Just like a spoiled child at a friend's birthday party, Bloodshine wanted to see.
Re: Knithawk loses it
The guild hall was never a frequent haunt of his, but Awatu had business to take care of and this was the best place suited for it. The narrow halls were too small for Tauren, as were the tables, chairs, door frames, windows, and basically everything else. In fact, it was less a hall and more a "renovated" tavern in Brill. Ah, yes, Brill. Just outside of the Undercity. The Dark Lady's domain. Halfway down the steps to the basement, he paused and reconsidered the idea of coming to that insufferable wench's lands. He snorted and finished his descent into the basement proper. It was nothing spectacular, really. Fairly ordinary for what someone would expect of a basement that had gone without proper cleaning in decades. It being managed by the undead probably did not help, either.
He turned and faced a bare stretch of wall and found a small indention in one of the bricks. Pressing his hearthstone into the brick, the wall gave off a slight shimmer and became partially translucent. He stepped through the portal and appeared in a much more lively-appearing domicile. The guild dormitories served mostly as a home for those without one, were too poor to rent one, or simply those in need of a place to stay during their travels. It was nothing glorious, but it served its purpose. The offices held by the Irredeemables were housed here, though they saw infrequent use. The High Inquisitor's office saw the most traffic, so it was kept mostly tidy and appeared as if someone still living actually made use of it. Speaking of the office...
...a peculiar site greeted him as he turned down the hall. A head in a box with a letter sat outside the door to the office currently managed by the High Inquisitor. Next to that sat a Troll in a chair, an impish grin on her face as if she were expecting something interesting to occur. She gave him a brief wave and continued her vigil of the packaged head. He only returned a blank stare to her, moving down the hallway to the door at the end.
He had always called it "The Office" as it has served many hosts in its lifetime as a room. Those who called themselves the leaders of the Mandate used it for various purposes, mostly for records or other personal interests they may have. He knew not what the previous owners kept behind the doors, save for the Arbiter when he entered it for the first time. The horrors that had been housed within those four walls under the guiding care of the Necromancer or the Enforcer were enough to give him a slight pause at the doorknob. The door unlocked at his touch and he moved through the narrow door frame into the dullest room he had ever been in. It was clean, with no dust to be found, no cobwebs to be swept, and no messy stacks of paper in sight. There were no great arcane devices to torture ones prisoners, nor a fountain of souls one could peer into. No half-crazed blood beasts to fight nor grand illusions to deter unwanted guests. Every visit he remained thankful that he was not a Forsaken. The room served its purpose in housing his armor and weapons, the only tools he needed to destroy his foes.
Eying a particularly large hammer in one of the corners, Awatu spoke into his hearthstone. "Irredeemables, to my office. We have something we need to discuss."
He turned and faced a bare stretch of wall and found a small indention in one of the bricks. Pressing his hearthstone into the brick, the wall gave off a slight shimmer and became partially translucent. He stepped through the portal and appeared in a much more lively-appearing domicile. The guild dormitories served mostly as a home for those without one, were too poor to rent one, or simply those in need of a place to stay during their travels. It was nothing glorious, but it served its purpose. The offices held by the Irredeemables were housed here, though they saw infrequent use. The High Inquisitor's office saw the most traffic, so it was kept mostly tidy and appeared as if someone still living actually made use of it. Speaking of the office...
...a peculiar site greeted him as he turned down the hall. A head in a box with a letter sat outside the door to the office currently managed by the High Inquisitor. Next to that sat a Troll in a chair, an impish grin on her face as if she were expecting something interesting to occur. She gave him a brief wave and continued her vigil of the packaged head. He only returned a blank stare to her, moving down the hallway to the door at the end.
He had always called it "The Office" as it has served many hosts in its lifetime as a room. Those who called themselves the leaders of the Mandate used it for various purposes, mostly for records or other personal interests they may have. He knew not what the previous owners kept behind the doors, save for the Arbiter when he entered it for the first time. The horrors that had been housed within those four walls under the guiding care of the Necromancer or the Enforcer were enough to give him a slight pause at the doorknob. The door unlocked at his touch and he moved through the narrow door frame into the dullest room he had ever been in. It was clean, with no dust to be found, no cobwebs to be swept, and no messy stacks of paper in sight. There were no great arcane devices to torture ones prisoners, nor a fountain of souls one could peer into. No half-crazed blood beasts to fight nor grand illusions to deter unwanted guests. Every visit he remained thankful that he was not a Forsaken. The room served its purpose in housing his armor and weapons, the only tools he needed to destroy his foes.
Eying a particularly large hammer in one of the corners, Awatu spoke into his hearthstone. "Irredeemables, to my office. We have something we need to discuss."
Re: Knithawk loses it
Aureliya finally emerged from her office after hearing Bloodshine calling impatiently for her to open her package. Stepping outside, she closed the door behind her and eyed the box with just a touch of dismay. Boxes that arrived to her by goblin post rarely contained anything pleasant. Most often they were tokens sent to her by the supplicants, each of whom seemed intent on outdoing one another by sending the most foul of parcels. They almost always contained some form of remains in varying states of decay. The worst had been the large box of decomposing scalps. The thought of it made her stomach flip flop each time it came to mind.
Steeling herself, she used a silver letter opener to unseal the package and looked inside. As suspected, it contained a head. At least it was human. She took some satisfaction from that as she dislodged the wadded up note from it's mouth. Smoothing the creases, she read the note and her face darkened with anger. She looked at Bloodshine, handing the note to her. "Let this be a lesson to you. Only those weak of mind would fall to such servitude. To make matters worse, he continues to worship this 'God', seeking power at the expense of his own allies. He has failed the Mandate. Do not ever allow yourself to follow the same path. The weak such as Knithawk do not deserve to be among us."
Aureliya did not wait for a response. Turning heel, she entered her office again and locked the door, leaving the box and note outside with the Supplicant.
***
Some time later, the message sounded over the communicator, as the Commander summoned her to his office. She nodded with satisfaction as she rose, heading immediately to meet with him. "Finally.."
Steeling herself, she used a silver letter opener to unseal the package and looked inside. As suspected, it contained a head. At least it was human. She took some satisfaction from that as she dislodged the wadded up note from it's mouth. Smoothing the creases, she read the note and her face darkened with anger. She looked at Bloodshine, handing the note to her. "Let this be a lesson to you. Only those weak of mind would fall to such servitude. To make matters worse, he continues to worship this 'God', seeking power at the expense of his own allies. He has failed the Mandate. Do not ever allow yourself to follow the same path. The weak such as Knithawk do not deserve to be among us."
Aureliya did not wait for a response. Turning heel, she entered her office again and locked the door, leaving the box and note outside with the Supplicant.
***
Some time later, the message sounded over the communicator, as the Commander summoned her to his office. She nodded with satisfaction as she rose, heading immediately to meet with him. "Finally.."
Re: Knithawk loses it
In a secluded corner of the guild halls, behind a sealed door the soft tapping of fingers against a desk could be heard. Fanyare sat, reclined and feet upon a desk thinking. The commotions that have gone on outside have not bothered her, thinking of the next assault was what occupied her mind and the screaming pandarian and excited trolls could not shake her thought. The maps hung on the walls were well weathered, showing their exhaustion from extensive planning. Most would not feel welcome in such a place, exactly as Fanyare sought it to be.
The silence of the room only broken by the quick tapping of her fingers. Thinking aloud "That damned Gileneas, Leyujin seems to be onto something, but even then it seems our strikers need to train more. We either go full force and hope to overwhelm or..." Her thought interrupted by the sudden booming tauren voice on her communicator, she lets out a soft startled gasp. Rising to her feet, stretching as she goes, she mutters "Who didn't manage to make it back this time I wonder" insensitively. Her pace is hurried as she leaves her office, ensuring to lock it behind her heading towards the called meeting place.
The silence of the room only broken by the quick tapping of her fingers. Thinking aloud "That damned Gileneas, Leyujin seems to be onto something, but even then it seems our strikers need to train more. We either go full force and hope to overwhelm or..." Her thought interrupted by the sudden booming tauren voice on her communicator, she lets out a soft startled gasp. Rising to her feet, stretching as she goes, she mutters "Who didn't manage to make it back this time I wonder" insensitively. Her pace is hurried as she leaves her office, ensuring to lock it behind her heading towards the called meeting place.
Re: Knithawk loses it
Anaie sighed heavily as she heard the call come over her communicator from Awatu. She placed the small garden shears down on the table, and fiddled with the flowers before her for a few more seconds before taking a step back to admire her handiwork. Satisfied with how her arrangement was coming along, she turned to gather up her weapons.
It's unlike Awatu to be in his office, let alone summon us fer a meeting, she thought to herself as she slipped her cleavers into their sheathes. "Dis might actually be important, eh?" she said with a whimsical tone. Anaie strolled back toward her flower arrangement and leaned close. "Don't you tink 'bout dyin' on me while I be gone lovely, perhaps ya want some watah?"
She turned and grabbed a small pitcher of water, sloshing it about as she went to move the flowers aside a bit to pour the water in. She poured the water into the gnome's mouth, causing him to sputter and gag, nearly spitting out the flowers that were forced into his mouth and nose. The stems sticking out of the eye sockets wobbled slightly from the minor struggle, but the poor creatures head was tightly secured by ropes and straps, as was the rest of his body.
"Dere. If any o'me flowahs be dead or on da floor when I return, your really gonna be 'atin yer life" she said as she gently patted the gnomes head, scooping up his eyes and dropping them into a jar on her shelf as she left her office.
It's unlike Awatu to be in his office, let alone summon us fer a meeting, she thought to herself as she slipped her cleavers into their sheathes. "Dis might actually be important, eh?" she said with a whimsical tone. Anaie strolled back toward her flower arrangement and leaned close. "Don't you tink 'bout dyin' on me while I be gone lovely, perhaps ya want some watah?"
She turned and grabbed a small pitcher of water, sloshing it about as she went to move the flowers aside a bit to pour the water in. She poured the water into the gnome's mouth, causing him to sputter and gag, nearly spitting out the flowers that were forced into his mouth and nose. The stems sticking out of the eye sockets wobbled slightly from the minor struggle, but the poor creatures head was tightly secured by ropes and straps, as was the rest of his body.
"Dere. If any o'me flowahs be dead or on da floor when I return, your really gonna be 'atin yer life" she said as she gently patted the gnomes head, scooping up his eyes and dropping them into a jar on her shelf as she left her office.
If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.