The Coalition of the Horde presents Homefront: Battle of the Bilge, a roleplay campaign for the Horde! Events will be hosted on Moon Guard- US. Neutral characters are welcome!
Dates and Times:
January 16th-23rd with events starting at 7:30pm server time (CST).
A rideout pre-campaign roleplay will be planned for January 15th. Stay tuned!
Story:
Storms ravage the coasts of Kalimdor.
While the defense of Durotar and the Barrens was successful, one thing became clear: the Horde had overlooked its own turf for too long. This is the well known cause of the Quilboar and Twilightâs Hammer being able to wriggle their way onto the doorstep of Orgrimmar. Behind the Hordeâs back a goblin mogul, Krenkle Kwikbizzle, CEO of BAM!azon, has started creating tensions in Azshara during Trade-Prince Gallywixâs absence.
Goblin workers are beginning to riot, arguing that dangerous working conditions are not being properly compensated. Trade goods filtering into and out of Bilgewater Harbor have become a simple drip and the Hordeâs economy is beginning to buckle under duress.
To make matters worse: an ancient enemy has been seen on the coast. A legion of naga, bearing the standard of an ancient Highborne House, have taken advantage of the Hordeâs crippled navy, still reeling from the Fourth War. An attack is imminent.
Dark clouds gather on the horizon. It is only a matter of time before the Horde and its allies must rally to win back Azshara from the clutches of greed.
Each week, I have been posting rumor mill elements to the Coalition Guild Masters and a couple newspapers on Moon Guard, but since this story involves possible globally impacting things, Iâll post them here for anyone to use if they wish. Feel free to use these as prompts and post them here and in discord!
The story thus farâŚ
After the conflict with the Thornwake came to a close, ships carrying goods between the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor experienced delay, the crews citing violent and abnormally large storms as the cause. But not to worry, a goblin mogul, Mr. Kwikbizzle, has offered his companyâs ships to send supplies. While this mostly pertains to the Horde, parts of the Alliance and Neutral territories may feel the delays otherwise; having to stretch goods for a day or two longer, pay a few silver more.
The storms continue and growing worse with the passing day. A chokehold on shipping goods is the cause for rising demand and prices. As of this week, while skilled sailors and crews can weather the storm, conditions are becoming too risky to bank sending costly supplies on. Only BAM!azon ships are largely making it through, putting their crews at risk.
Along the coast of Durotar, Azshara, and the Barrens, dark clouds come and go. The occasional rain isnât unusual, after all.
Meanwhile, in RatchetâŚ
A kaldorei druid peers out onto the bay from atop an overlooking hill. No, storm clouds were not a cause for concern. In the far distance, amber eyes spot a BAM!azon ship level on the horizon, stopped, and waiting to be given permission to dock at port. A short hum leaves her pursed lips. She turns her gaze towards the dockmaster. Heâs getting an earful from what sounds like a goblin merchant. An entire shipment was paid for and lost to the sea.
Kwikbizzle begins charging exorbitant fees for shipping to cover âdangerâ costs. Weâre talking expensive. Next Day Delivery kind of prices per package.
The storms continue in Orgrimmar, Azshara, Ratchet/Barrens.
One particular shipping crew arrives in Bladefist Bay and begins talking about how a group of Ankoan saved them from certain death after being attacked by Naga.
Goblin worker unrest begins in Azshara and in BAM!azonâs shipping crews due to this.
I know many server holiday events are coming up! Feel free to use those events as avenues to talk about these things at. There are more developments to come this week, stay tuned.
After being assaulted by an employee of BAM!azon, Cdr. Mirchea KulâTherin-Soltair has issued the following notice, pertinent and applicable to any Argents in the region. Though intended to be an internal notice, save for a select few, it has doubtlessly found its way out into the general public, as there is nothing particularly secretive about it.
Kiwi slammed the missive down, rattling the items on her desk and making her rum slosh. The solid gold drink umbrella clinkled against the glass.
âDelayed! AGAIN!! Our ships ainât gettinâ through, and them late components are holdinâ up the G.L.A.M.B.* work orders! And Kwikbizzle! KWIK-BIZZLE. KWIK. BIZZLE. Whoâs this mook horninâ in on our business? Whyâs HIS stupid boats gettinâ through???â
Kiwi crumples the paper and throws it across the room, narrowly missing the Bruiser standing guard. It slaps against the wall with a soft unemphatic PAFF! and falls to the floor. The Bruiser blinks, drool falling gently to the faded ornate carpet.
She picks up a few other papers from her desk, shoving aside the invoices and crayon doodles in her way as she sorts the weekâs news and mail. She was feeling crabby about all these issues lately gettinâ in the way of Flashbangâs profits. Business was currently good, but they got stuff to build, things to blow up, more profits to be made. And this guy, THIS GUY, was gettinâ in their way. Flashbang wasnât going to take that layinâ down.
Her eyes narrow and then skim over a newspaper - somethinâ about a buncha peeved worker Gobs out in a Azshara or somethinâ. She makes a mental note to send a Recruiter out there. Flashbangâs factory floor always needs replacements and disgruntled workers especially like hearinâ âbout employment opportunities elsewheres. Coffinâs been needinâ more help anyways, what after that flange lube incineration incident a coupla weeks ago.
In the meantime, they were gonna have to start bumpinâ up their use of portal tech to move all them goods, but that was a pain in the keister for large shipments. This logistics problem was gonna hafta be sorted, and sorted soon.
(Glitter Laden Ambulatory Mechanized Bomb - which happens to look like a glitter-filled explosive sheep bot)
The night was calm - one of the few theyâd been graced with of late, though a bank of storm clouds lingered on the horizon over the ocean. Distant rumbles thrummed through the amphibious airship, herald of more bad weather to come; it was growing wearisome, the constant rain and the bad news piling up. More ships sunk, prices skyrocketing, workers grumbling. Even basics were being affected - food, water. It was a recipe for disaster.
Mirchea sat at his desk, forehead cupped in one hand as he looked over several different reports. Storms were not unusual this time of year, but the amount and severity was ridiculous. Observations of wildlife vacating the area had been reported; even fish were becoming scarce, either fleeing deeper than the common personâs nets could reach or moving to calmer waters. Around him the ship creaked, fire-safe lanterns rattling as waves made the ship bob gently. So far the storms that had moved inland hadnât been bad enough for them to have to cast off and take their chances in deeper waters, but if they didâŚA sigh left him. Theyâd have to move out to avoid being sunk or damaging the harbor with their bulk if they came free from their moorings.
And of course, that carried its own risks.
Lifting his head, he let his hand drop, nails drumming on the desktop as he continued pursuing the reports. He had growing suspicions about these storms, the ships that made it through, and the rising prices, the notice of eviction and a suspicious package left for FlashbangâŚbut everything he had so far was circumstantial. Not enough to bring to the Horde as evidence of conspiracy, and the Argents had not been asked to support any sort of investigation as of yet. He ground his jaw and sat back in his chair, arms folded. He hated it when he had a good hunch as to what was going on but couldnât do a damn thing about it because of red tape and politics.
His ear flicked, detecting the sound of pounding feet, shortly followed by his closed door shuddering as a fist pounded upon it. Heâd changed the sign outside it to indicate he wasnât to be disturbed so whatever this was must have been important - unless whoever it was was a damn dunce. A panicked voice called then from the other side, even as he rose to open the door.
It was the voice of one of their lower enlisted, sent to fetch him. The boyâs panicked eyes widened as the door opened to reveal his Commander, a pale brow arched. âDefine âsomethingâ?â The elven man asked. The boy, a human of no more than eighteen years, paled a bit, stumbling over his words. He was new, and heâd never spoken directly to the Commander and was most certainly intimidated by the manâs frosty demeanor.
âTh-thereâs a brawl, sir, or, uhm, it looks like thereâs about to be. B-between the dock workers, sir. Goblins and, and the others.â
The Knight frowned, and the boy fidgeted. âAny of ours involved?â He gestured and the boy scurried out of the way, letting the Commander through as he moved through the passageways with long, purposeful strides. Shorter than the other man, the boy scrambled to keep up without tripping over the knee-knockers of the various water-tight doors they passed through.
âWe have, uhm, we have a re-supply crew out in town, s-sir. Theyâre not back yet. Not due for, for a while.â
âTell the Officer of the Deck to recall them immediately,â the Knight said as he took the stairs up to the topside deck. âI want a full muster by all departments and divisions.â
âYe-yes sir, right away!â The boy scrambled off, heading to the quarterdeck to deliver his orders. Mirch meanwhile stepped out onto the deck just as a small explosion some distance away shattered the night; he instinctively ducked back inside, lichfire eyes snapping to those Argents on the deck he could see, assessing if anyone was injured.
Fortunately not; theyâd all also ducked, but no one was harmed. Distant angry shouting and sounds of a fight reached his ears as he cautiously stepped out onto the desk, gaze seeking out the nearest and most senior person present other than himself for a report. He got spotted by a lieutenant and returned her salute as she jogged to his side, continuing to move to the dockside railing as she spoke in answer to his short question - âTell me whatâs going on, lieutenant.â
She inhaled, then started in on the tale. âOf course, sir. To be honest I am not exactly sure what sparked it off but about a half hour ago we noticed some arguments and unrest breaking out. Some of the dockworkers that tend us and others got approached by another group; no identifying colors or anything that we could see, sir. Couldnât hear what was said, either. But some of them started arguing, then they started grouping up, and nowâŚitâs a fight.â
A fight indeed. The sight that greeted him was an all out brawl that spanned the width of the substantial dock, and was several rows of people deep. He studied the heaving mass of people for a moment, trying to pick out sides, frowning. A sharp whistle drew his attention and he looked over across the dock from themselves, to a merchant ship that was moored there. The shipâs Captain, an orc with a particularly flamboyant hat, waved at him to ensure he had the Knightâs attention before he began to shout across the way.
âOi! Looks like the olâ BAM!azon crew pissed off the dockworkers but good, mate! One of our men was down there, said theyâd come by to try to bribe some of the workers into doinâ something or other. Quittinâ and joining them or something else more nefarious, ainât sure what yet. One tried to get past the cordon you lot got set up and got slugged for it by a worker and then this started. Werenât one of yours who swung, though.â
A spark of worry that started faded away; good, at least his Argents werenât involved. He flashed the orc a thumbs-up and the man tipped his hat in recognition, going back to observing the small riot with his spyglass. As Mirch watched, he could see that indeed, the brawl was several yards beyond the cordon theyâd set up, and the Argents manning it were looking uncertain and restless. He drummed his fingers on the railing. If he sent reinforcements, it might be taken as aggression and wind up with his people dragged into this. And of course, he couldnât recall them, either.
âTurn on the storm lights and direct them down to the dock, right on that mass,â he said to the lieutenant. She blinked at him, listening as he continued. âEnsure the anti-personnel guns are manned. Direct them towards the crowd but keep their barrels pointed up into the air and keep them unloaded, but have less-than-lethal crowd control ammunition nearby and keep their crews on standby until this dissipates, just in case. If it looks like our folks down at the security cordon are about to get overrun, send extra security teams down to support them.â The orcess snapped a sharp salute and issued a quiet âSir!â before moving to carry out her orders.
As she did, Mirch continued to study the composition of the crowd. It was becoming easy to see who was on what side; the dockworkers were all various races, and most of them bore some manner of Horde sigil on their overalls or other working uniform. Their opponents meanwhile were mostly gobs, and dressed in plain clothes for the most part. Some of the dockworkers appeared to be fighting their fellows, and more than a few from both sides were falling, downed with injuries. Most were being dragged out by their companions, but some werenât, unable to be reached in the writhing mass of flailing fists, wrenches, cleats and heavens know whatever other improvised weapons the lot could find.
He pursed his lips. âLieutenant,â he called, and in a moment the orcess was back by his side. âReady a crew of medics and send word down to the medbay to prep for casualties. Send a crew down to the cordon - make sure theyâre plainly marked as medics, too. Tell them theyâre not to go beyond the cordon but if injured are dragged to them theyâre to treat them or take them here for such.â
âAye, sirâŚyouâd think the Bilgewater bruisers would be out here putting a stop this? Or maybe the Horde?â She grunted, then shook her head and disappeared again, barking at others as they gathered up or stopped their work to watch the âshowâ.
He began to worry for the crew they had out in town. There was no way theyâd be able to get back to the ship through that morass, and the Argents didnât have any close, friendly ships in town that heâd trust to direct them to for shelter. He cast an eye to the sky, hoping that maybe he might get lucky and spot the Easy Peasy hoving there, but alas, no such vision greeted him. Nor was Dessaâs ship in port at the time. Then, as if the universe knew his thoughts, the young crusader heâd sent to pass his orders to the Officer of the Deck found him.
âSir, the resupply crew canât make it back. Theyâve opted to shelter in place at the warehouse they went to and will stay in contact.â Well, that was about the best he could hope for at present. If he had it his way heâd of sent a recovery team out to get them and bring them back, but that would involve violence, and that would end up looking poorly for them.
âVery well,â he said. âKeep me updated. If they hear any news, I want them to report it.â
âAye sir,â and off the boy scurried again, and Mirch returned to watching the brawl unfold. More had arrived, and it was turning into a bloodbath. There was a brief bout of confusion and chaos as the Resoluteâs storm lights turned on and blasted them all with eye-searing light, but then they all went right back to mauling each other. Across the way, the merchant ship emulated them, but used their lights in tighter, focused beams; the Knight squinted, following them - they were identifying injured fallen, and some of those in the fight caught on, dragging them out of the melee and to the relative safety of the Argentâs security cordon. The security crew down there was swiftly joined by more medics from the Resolute, much to their relief, and a small smile curled the Knightâs lips as he watched his Argents move quickly to organize themselves efficiently.
The trilling of whistles greeted his ears and he looked up, just in time to see Bilgewater bruisers flooding the streets and docks beyond the brawl. They rushed forward, clubs raisedâŚbut the line of gobs they rushed towards just parted, people moving out of their wayâŚ
His teeth grit. The bruisers were assaulting the dockworkers - and ONLY the dockworkers.
And the other gobs, the ones in plain clothes, now with enthusiastic reinforcements, surged forward and in a matter minutes the brawl was over, dockworkers either beaten down, so injured they couldnât move, or beaten down and unmoving because they were being arrested. Some jumped into the waters, trying to swim and make a break for it; others whoâd been near the back of the brawl, closer to the Argents, tried to make for the security cordon.
The Knight braced. His orders had been very clear; anyone coming towards the cordon was to be stopped. Of course at the time he hadnât imagined this situation would happen; heâd not accounted for it in the least! But this wasnât their fight. They would help the injured, but he couldnât harbor those fleeing from the Bilgewater authoritiesâŚeven if he felt those authorities were in the wrong. But were they actually? The brutality they were displaying certainly didnât endear them to him, and he found a growl rising in his chest.
A sergeant close by, one of the security team, fidgeted. He looked over to Mirch, wolfish ears pinned back. ââŚsir?â He asked cautiously, almost hopefully. âThisâŚisnât right.â
Inhale. Exhale. He looked up at the sky, the stars becoming obscured by clouds again as the storm off the coast encroached. âItâs not,â he agreed, and the worgen moved, as if taking that as permission to go assist, but a hand snapping out halted him. ââŚweâre not to interfere.â
He hated those words, and the worgen did too, judging by the curled lip. Mirchea pretended not to notice, unless the man arguedâŚwhich he didnât. That was some relief, at least. The injured were being cleared away, the dockworkers who fought being arrested and dragged off. The dock was stained with blood, and some part of the Knight felt that it stained him, too.
Ears low, he turned away to tend to other things. Doubtless heâd have to deal with questions from the port authority later, as they âinvestigatedâ.
-Kwikbizzle begins increasing the âdangerâ fees he is charging clients.
-The storms in the Barrens/Ratchet, Azshara, and Durotar become more frequent and more severe. They last longer each time they come around. (If it is ever raining in Orgrimmar, treat it as IC especially. Feel free to use rainstones and all that).
Wildlife begin to move due to the changes in weather. This will begin putting a strain on domestic hunting. Other wildlife moves in and takes advantage of it. Things are a mess. These are areas not used to, nor equipped, for heavy rainfall.
-More worker riots. They attempt to go on strike. Kwikbizzle busts this with an iron fist and heavy force.
-At a charity drive, Commander Mirchea was served legal papers by a BAM!azon lawyer flanked by several goons.
More worker riots. Now even Kwikbizzleâs shipping has slowed down; heâs still charging high cost, despite lax delivery.
Workers are being met with heavier force. A workerâs union has popped up despite this. They are led by a goblin worker named Lux Rashbasher.
At one of these riots, a DeepCore Industries employee bashed a bruiser with his guitar while playing at a riot. The employee was arrested and released on bail.
Elementals in Durotar and Azshara become unstable. On stormy shores, earth elementals clash with water and wind elementals.
A Coalition of the Horde Summit regarding Battle of the Bilge will take place January 9th at 7:30 PM ST (CST) in Orgrimmarâs Barracks!
GREAT meeting yesterday! Lots of spice and drama to be had. Ran smoothly. And everyoneâs favourite part: we were out in less than two hours! We have our command structure posted, vehicle battles ready to be signed up for, and our schedule posted.
This Saturday is the ride out, beginning in front of the Orgrimmar Barracks at 8pm ST!
