September events thread is up, y'all hosting anything soon?
rise
Just so there's no confusion: Our former officer, Versca, has left the guild after realizing the theme of our RP wasn't quite what she was wanting out of BfA going forward. There was no negativity, we're all still pals, and she remains a friend of the guild.
It just seemed best to go ahead and address it since we're a fairly small group as-is and seeing her guild tag change without explanation might've invited too much speculation.
As for us, we're in the process of hammering out the date for our next internal event, and then it'll be back on track for our next public event.
As always, we're open to cooperative events with other guilds as well (friend or foe), so feel free to drop us a line.
It just seemed best to go ahead and address it since we're a fairly small group as-is and seeing her guild tag change without explanation might've invited too much speculation.
As for us, we're in the process of hammering out the date for our next internal event, and then it'll be back on track for our next public event.
As always, we're open to cooperative events with other guilds as well (friend or foe), so feel free to drop us a line.
Versca fell into a bad crowd and does CRIME now.
I'm still around in discord and in Strawmen co-op community. I'm like that guy that was in the news who never moved out so his parents had to take him to court to get an eviction notice. That's me ❤️
I'm still around in discord and in Strawmen co-op community. I'm like that guy that was in the news who never moved out so his parents had to take him to court to get an eviction notice. That's me ❤️
wait we can use emojis now????
what????
is this a chrome thing???
what????
09/04/2018 09:07 AMPosted by Verscahat's me ❤️
is this a chrome thing???
09/04/2018 10:33 AMPosted by Cailiaswait we can use emojis now????
what????09/04/2018 09:07 AMPosted by Verscahat's me ❤️
is this a chrome thing???
I mostly post on mobile ❤️✨ but I only think a small number are available to use on the forums. Some of them give you an error.
I hope to see the Strawmen at the Forsaken gathering tonight.
Has anyone else kept the Oger dream journal you pick up in Silithus when your powering the weapon? It sells for 200G but I kept mine and due to the recent content incoming in 8.1 I'm glad I did.
Page two talks about a fight at sea which might be related to the Zuldazar raid. Now, if it is a book of hints, then the page talking about the woman in shadow leading her sheep off a cliff might be reference to Sylvanas.
Page two talks about a fight at sea which might be related to the Zuldazar raid. Now, if it is a book of hints, then the page talking about the woman in shadow leading her sheep off a cliff might be reference to Sylvanas.
Shadow knows all that void storage for legendary gear left me a few spots for RP greys.
** A letter arrives to each member of the Strawmen. " Brothers and sisters in death, I send this to each of you in leu of the recent attack made on us by the lunatic Lasambra. I'm embarrassed to say, but she nearly delivered unto me the final death if Juel had not been there. The crazed Elf was slain by the Cryptstalker in the end, but this encounter is not the last because the Warlock's soulstone was missing."
" Enclosed in each letter is a peice of her garb, a chunk of her flesh, and a tuft of her hair taken from her corpse. It is my hope that one amoung those of you whom have talent in tracking a decreped soul might be able to use these things to that end. Please, if you find the location of her hideout do not go it alone for it will undoubtedly be booby-trapped. Inform the rest of us so that we may join as one and end the existence of this foe once and for all!"
Respectfully
Nos
" Enclosed in each letter is a peice of her garb, a chunk of her flesh, and a tuft of her hair taken from her corpse. It is my hope that one amoung those of you whom have talent in tracking a decreped soul might be able to use these things to that end. Please, if you find the location of her hideout do not go it alone for it will undoubtedly be booby-trapped. Inform the rest of us so that we may join as one and end the existence of this foe once and for all!"
Respectfully
Nos
Butterfield carelessly discards the envelope, taking the hair in between his fingers and rolling it as he would a cigarette in his breathing days. Reverently; he lifts it to his nose and takes a long, if forced inhalation as he rubs the hair against his dry, withered lips. Catching himself, he hastily stuffs the hair in a pocket as he comes to realize that the anger, the harsh words, the attempted murders; there was something else hiding behind all of this that moved his dead heart.
He must find Lasambra, alive.
Nos checks his mail box and finds no reply yet. " It's only been a day"
Barnabas opened the letter. The beady, dark orbs that rested in his otherwise empty eye sockets scanned over the text and examined the enclosed "trophies" before closing the envelope back. He was troubled that his comrades had been targeted ahead of him as he felt he'd done more than anyone to potentially bring these attacks upon their collective. However, he also felt a rush of relief wash over him that this one threat had been dispatched, even if it was only temporary.
In a way, he felt foolish. He knew Carmen (Cryptstalker) and Nos were more than capable, but still he worried for his friends. Though, for the moment he knew a certain peace. It was not to last, as he knew too well the workings of soulstones from his "private studies".
He knew a final blow would have to be dealt eventually before he and his fellows could turn their attention back to the Banshee Queen and her machinations. Thus far they'd mostly avoided violence, preferring to win the "hearts and minds" of the people with their message, but he knew deep down that this Warlock was just the first in a long line of Banshee devotees that would stand between the Strawmen and their vision for the future
In a way, he felt foolish. He knew Carmen (Cryptstalker) and Nos were more than capable, but still he worried for his friends. Though, for the moment he knew a certain peace. It was not to last, as he knew too well the workings of soulstones from his "private studies".
He knew a final blow would have to be dealt eventually before he and his fellows could turn their attention back to the Banshee Queen and her machinations. Thus far they'd mostly avoided violence, preferring to win the "hearts and minds" of the people with their message, but he knew deep down that this Warlock was just the first in a long line of Banshee devotees that would stand between the Strawmen and their vision for the future
While waiting for replies, Nos decided to higher the R.A.S. to see if there would be some alchemical way to locate the lunatic soul. He found two would be apprentices and gave them the fabric off her robe.
The one with eyeglasses opened a cabinet and set out some containers, placed them on the table, and pulled out a tome. The other one wore long rubber gloves and opened a barrel that had something not quite plague like. He ladled some of the solution into one of the containers and grabbed the fabric with some forceps. The spectacled apprentice read aloud what needed to be done next. The gloved one dipped the cloth in the container just over it's contents and let the vapors rise through the fabric.
The cloth caught fire and a spitting flames reached three feet high out of the container. Nos just stared at the tome reader through his eyeless sockets while the other one was stomping out small fires. " OH, this was the procedure for priest robes. I read it wrong. " the apprentice said.
Nos left without a word, shaking his head, and thinking to himself. " I should of payed the higher price for real R.A.S. members. Best not waste the other two items."
The one with eyeglasses opened a cabinet and set out some containers, placed them on the table, and pulled out a tome. The other one wore long rubber gloves and opened a barrel that had something not quite plague like. He ladled some of the solution into one of the containers and grabbed the fabric with some forceps. The spectacled apprentice read aloud what needed to be done next. The gloved one dipped the cloth in the container just over it's contents and let the vapors rise through the fabric.
The cloth caught fire and a spitting flames reached three feet high out of the container. Nos just stared at the tome reader through his eyeless sockets while the other one was stomping out small fires. " OH, this was the procedure for priest robes. I read it wrong. " the apprentice said.
Nos left without a word, shaking his head, and thinking to himself. " I should of payed the higher price for real R.A.S. members. Best not waste the other two items."
Nos pays a large sum to a convincing Forsaken that claims she is imbued with runes which allow her to track anything so long as she has an origin resource to go off of.
She eats the flesh and runs away real far. Nos follows and stops at the cliff edge as she jumps off and into a portal on her way down. He starts to follow, but stops just before the portal begins to shrink and close.
He now knows he is a fool who simply fed a rotbrain. He now fears that if none of the Strawmen send a letter about a clue to the Warlock's hideout, he might misuse his last thread from that wretched soul.
She eats the flesh and runs away real far. Nos follows and stops at the cliff edge as she jumps off and into a portal on her way down. He starts to follow, but stops just before the portal begins to shrink and close.
He now knows he is a fool who simply fed a rotbrain. He now fears that if none of the Strawmen send a letter about a clue to the Warlock's hideout, he might misuse his last thread from that wretched soul.
Nos checks for any letter with information on Lasambra. After he is finished he pours over his map of the northeastern kingdoms.
To my fellows....
By the time this missive reaches you, I will have made contact with Lasambra, having tracked her to the ruins of Darrowshire. As you will no doubt try to stop me, I have made arrangements to quarter you for a time in Crownguard Tower, and further, have elected to go ahead of you all, alone.
All this bitterness with her has made me aware of feelings I may have; may still be able to have! I know I can convince her *indeterminate scribble* of our sincerity. In the event of my death, the gold I have invested with the goblins in Orgimmar will further the cause. I doubt she could kill me. She must feel the same way I do.
In celebration!
Errol Butterfield
Nos sets the missive down, pondering what exactly Errol meant by feelings he might still be able to have. A strange thought, but wiped away by the realization that Lasambra truly hates the Strawmen and wants them burned, and now starting with Errol.
Nos gets up and heads out for Crownguard Tower. He will arrive tomorrow at the earliest, too late to stop his friend. He hopes the others receive the same massage and gather there as well, then they will have either revenge for a fallen friend, or rescue of a foolish friend.
Nos gets up and heads out for Crownguard Tower. He will arrive tomorrow at the earliest, too late to stop his friend. He hopes the others receive the same massage and gather there as well, then they will have either revenge for a fallen friend, or rescue of a foolish friend.
He set out from Crownguard late into the week of the Brewfest holiday. The tower was Argent territory so some eyes lingered on his blighted form as he went, but most were too busy with their celebration to notice. What had it been like to laugh in a way that wasn't ruined by bitterness or mockery? He couldn't remember, but things were looking up. Maybe he'd learn.
He moved briskly down the hill, muttering something to himself as he went. The wind moved through the clothing he wore; a panoply of elf clothes robbed from the dead. While they bore some small enchantment that kept them clean, it did little for the loose fit. From here he could make out the silhouettes of the ruined town. The light of the child barely illuminated Darrowshire; the mother not in the sky this night. Weapons sheathed, he all but skipped toward it.
He moved briskly down the hill, muttering something to himself as he went. The wind moved through the clothing he wore; a panoply of elf clothes robbed from the dead. While they bore some small enchantment that kept them clean, it did little for the loose fit. From here he could make out the silhouettes of the ruined town. The light of the child barely illuminated Darrowshire; the mother not in the sky this night. Weapons sheathed, he all but skipped toward it.
Wind whistled through the ruin creating sounds that were almost voices. With the right eyes one could glimpse it's specters trapped in a cycle of war, pestilence and death. Long ago the scourge had come, wiping it's people out after a long, pitched battle. Debate still raged among the forsaken regarding the nature of the spirits. Were they the souls of the dead or just a violent echo of the past? Whatever had happened here, the grass had grown over it. A few more years and the ghosts will be haunting a hillside.
Butterfield picked his way through the bones of the town like he were a only a shadow to his cousins in death. Following a single, faded trail worn to a cottage near the back, he slinked to the door. Unlike the rest of it, things were quiet here. Carefully, he stepped inside.
Butterfield picked his way through the bones of the town like he were a only a shadow to his cousins in death. Following a single, faded trail worn to a cottage near the back, he slinked to the door. Unlike the rest of it, things were quiet here. Carefully, he stepped inside.