Notice of Warrant of Arrest for: Grenn, Ailardan (RP)

Notice of Warrant of Arrest for: Grenn, Ailardan (Human)
Issued by: Lordaeronian Bureau of Justice and State Security Enforcement

Authorized by: REDACTED
Date of issue: REDACTED
Reward: Yes - to be paid upon delivery of detainee

Desired respiratory state: metabolically active (liquidation not authorized for field teams)

Crimes: Assaulting Lordaeronian officials enacting the people’s business, assaulting civilians engaged in the same, theft of sensitive information, unlawful entry into secure defense facilities, murder of Lordaeronian citizens, membership in the Scarlet Crusade, subversive activity against House Menethil, unlawful entry into the national territory of Lordaeron.
Notes: An enemy of the people of Lordaeron and a member of the hyper-violent light extremist ‘Scarlet’ movement, this fugitive is sought in relation to a crime spree conducted over an extended period in and around Lordaeron. Using the disruption of Lordaeron’s defensive conflict against invading Southerners, Scarlet Cultist Ailardan Grenn inflicted carnage against unarmed, unresistant men and women due to their metabolic status. Individuals or teams engaging in the capture of this target may consider all present Scarlet zealots or fellow travelers surrounding Grenn to be immaterial to his procurement. A corollary addendum to this document pertaining to ancillary support protecting the subject contains reward tables for the donation of tissue and soul stuff as well as new recruits.

Long Reign Queen Menethil, Shadows Protect her People
Lordaeronian Bureau of Justice and State Security Enforcement
Signed And Issued: Executor Sir Leondras Rommal and [REDACTED]

OOC DISCLAIMER: This is consensual rp, and all players involved agreed to this post. For ooc questions please feel free to contact Banshih or Ailardan. To coordinate rp regarding this warrant, please contact Banshih or Ailardan. This wanted poster can be found in Horde territories, as well as neutral locations like Booty Bay. Additionally, one or two posters would curiously find their way into Stormwind.

This rp is a part of the Dance Of The Dead event: Dance Of The Dead - Oct 21st & 22nd, 2021 (RP & RP-PVP)

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*The city of Stormwind, a bustling city during the day, was almost silent at night. The sounds of patrolling guardsmen, citizens closing up their homes, and the settling of the populace were all that was heard. Yet, another pair of boots silently slapped against the cobblestone paths, a leather-clad figure making his way along the canal. As he walked along the familiar path, he reached out, grabbing a recently-placed paper. *

As the paper was brought before his steady gaze, he almost dropped the paper right there, his body stricking with an atavistic fear…those memories from back then, rising to the fore in the Inquisitor’s mind. Staggered, his body shuddering as the emotional turmoil of that time…all those years ago…

He wracked his mind, wondering how…how could they have known about it…and then it came to him, a scowl hidden beneath the mans mask as he quickly turned, and, with urgency, began the search for -her-. For, he had just a…few questions to ask…and no one was going to stop him from doing so.

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[[ That is an awesome warrant. The art is fantastic! ]]

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The gentle waves could be heard lapping against the underside of the boardwalk as soft footfalls made their way into the Salt Sailor Tavern. Skindle was wiping down the bartop when he nodded to the woman.

"Not your usual time."

She shrugged, “Got stuff to do north of here. Figured I would deliver early.” Her ship was anchored out in the bay as crew tendered in some crates and barrels for the storehouses. Goods to be sold during the fishing tournament that would happen on the weekend. He just nodded at that and went back to work.

For all the years the two knew each other from her time visiting this place, they were never much for small talk. Her money was good and the products she now brought was better. She sat at the corner table as another brought her a coffee and a shot of bourbon. The silence was starting to get to her, "Tell me there is something new."

The goblin didn’t speak. The woman just watched as his gaze moved to an old message board. Littered with years of papers, mostly forgotten, and stained with time. On top, a fresh notice was pinned. This piqued her interest.

Spiking her coffee, she carried the mug over to the board to read it. Taking a sip of coffee her eyes went wide.

…Grenn, Ailardan (Human)…

…assaulting civilians engaged in the same…

…unlawful entry into secure defense facilities…

…unlawful entry into the national territory of Lordaeron…

Within seconds she was spitting out her bourbon-laced coffee all over the board and the flyer. Ripping the flyer from the wall, she threw about ten or maybe twelve gold coins on the closest table as she rushed out. She made a call to the ship; the leisurely delivery became a rush as they needed out of the bay.

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Around lunch time that day, Lloria picked her way through Stormwind, her armored hulking form moving with a stride tired from recent event but dogged. She’d taken to wearily and aimlessly moving through Stormwind in the past few days in light of recent events and the sight of a wanted poster that happened to be along one of her random routes through the city caught her eye in passing. Despite being nearly half asleep as she passed, something about this particular item jumped out and brought her back to full attention which was quickly given to the document. She lifted her helmet off with her free left hand and tucked it under that arm for a moment while she read the contents of the posting. The name of the target, the ‘crimes’ listed, and finally the signature of the issuers all elicited a flitting furrow of her brow as she chewed her way through the words.
Gods’ blood, how did this get here? These cursed undead are getting out of line again. And that guy is still alive, eh? Long time no see. Maybe it’s time to head north again…

She put her helmet back on, then tore down the particular poster. It might only be a symbolic gesture, but Horde missives didn’t belong in Stormwind, whatever the current vogue with the local nobles was. She didn’t even bother giving a look around to see if anybody was watching this minor act of vandalism but the gods help whoever might have seen it and wanted to make an issue of it. She proceed on her way now with a renewed step as the butt of her halberd clicked against the ground as she walked on.

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Marendus stood over the twitching body of his mark - the man’s muscles spasming in his death throes. The blank face of the assassin read over the paperwork he was given. Plenty of names crossing it for these ‘bounties.’ Nobles, war criminals, and lecherous dogs alike. But as the familiar face of that Scarlet came across his face he paused, taking a closer look. Soulless eye sockets narrowed as he looked at the face of the name. Ailardan Grenn. He recognized the man. He watched him and his lap dogs dig deep into the ruins of Lordaeron. He remembered the name from SI:7 stolen documents.

Slowly a wicked grin crossed the face of the forsaken, Marendus folding the paper neatly. Kneeling down to the twitching man he pushed the dagger that was stuck into his back harder. “The reward means nothing,” He started, knowing his words were the last thing this unfortunate soul would hear. “I want to see that cur piss himself in fear. Do you know what that’s like?” His eyes turned downward to the ground, having to suppress a chuckle. “I suppose you do,”

Ripping the dagger out of the targets flesh he saw the now jelly-like blood escape the wound finally. With a nod he replaced it along his belt. “I look forward to this, Scarlet leper. Maybe I’ll take your other eye as a prize…” He said with a cackle, walking away from his dead mark. There was a new job to prepare for…

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Armsmaster Kognar Yelkivish stood outside his bunker as he heard his familiar crow swooping above, Sending a few caws his way. The giant Armsmaster donning his Scarlet Tabard and same ole Fire infused armors. He stretched his arm outwards as his messenger bird swept down and landed perfectly upon the outstretched arm. Kognar Eyed the bird over noticing that there was no scroll attached to the birds leg per usual. However oddly enough it was tucked in the beak. “Wh’th feck ya got there?” He chuckled out before snatching the paper. As Kognar read his brow lifted. “Looks like Grenns over ‘is ‘ead again…” he said in a hushed tone. The Giant crusader looked around to see if anyone was around before opening the hatch to his hideout, as he started down the stairs he turned with a swift motion grabbing the hatch and pulling it down. As the Armsmaster reached the medium sized room he began to unlock several gun cabinets and various armor chests. As he turned around to lay out the arms and armor he eyed his hound. “Looks li’ wer gettin’ our ‘ands ‘an paws dirty.” He chuckled as the hound moved his head left to right as the man spoke. “‘Opefully ole Grenn’s no’captured yet boy…” he shrugged slinging a long gun to his back. Kognar secured his holster, in which he quickly loaded his infamous Revolver before slapping the cylinder back in as he holstered the weapon. Kognar made his way over to the small fireplace throwing the letter into the unforgiving flame. With a turn of his heels he grabbed his old Brigade Communicator before heading up and out of the underground bunker with his hound.

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Kat delicately scooped up the flier, cocking her head slowly as she read the contents on the parchment, a slow smirk spreading under the mask that she wore. Slowly, a chuckle began to bubble from her chest, coming out of her mouth distorted and garbled until she was laughing loudly.

“Aw… The poor pup will get what is coming to him… If I’ve got anything to say about it.” she rasped to herself, the ruined voice muffled by her mask, as she folded the paper neatly and tucked it into one of her many pockets. She looked around and stepped back into the shadows, vanishing from sight as she made her way out of the city, making her way out to the last place she had seen the man…

She would make sure he got precisely what he deserved, or she would die again trying.

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Executor Rommal didn’t need much convincing for this proclamation. Espionage? Murder of civilians? Rebels seeking to prevent the ascension of a Menethil?

“Bah! Obviously guilty of treason.” he states, signing the writ, then handing the sealed document to the nearest messenger. Leondras takes note of the most recent pile of written bounties in need of secondary approval, placing a few more in the review stack.

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Altrek knelt down as he noticed a piece of paper had fallen to the ground, having had been dislodged from the belt of the Argent Crusader as they were lifted up on the end of a spear. Other Scarlets that had accompanied him were finishing up likewise impaling the band of trespassing Argents, some of which having been still alive when they were raised. Altrek looked the paper over, first with mild curiosity then with legitimate dread as he recognized the contents for what they were.

“No…not again!”

Without a word to the others he quickly rose from the ground and rushed to his horse, leaping onto the saddle before spurring the beast on. Hooves thundered as the horse galloped back towards the Monastery with its rider tightly gripping the reins. Startled guards at the gate fell back to avoid being run over, and once he was at the base of the stairway Altrek jumped down to make his way inside. He skipped every two steps as he hustled towards the dormitories, and despite the late hour his voice boomed throughout the halls.

“Everyone on their feet! I want the guard doubled and archers lining the wall at all times! Send messenger ravens to all agents out in the field to find Inquisitor Grenn and return him to the Monastery at once! MOVE IT!!!

Altrek clenched his fists as soldiers scrambled every which way to don their armor and mobilize, the paper crinkling in his grip and distorting the crimson WANTED that was printed above an artist’s rendition of Ailardan.

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The Darkspear read through one of the numerous warrants for the Scarlets, arching a brow at the crimes and information presented before he nodded.

“Surprised dey be wantin’ 'im alive,” he muttered to himself, “Suppose dat Scarlets despite actin’ mo’ like mad dogs get treated as men still an’ arrested.”

Jab’trah shook his head and continued with the next one.

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*It had been but a few days since the warrant had been found, yet, upon Commander Redblade’s orders, Ailardan had been “urged” to stay within the Monastery, while patrols and security were increased. Reports had come in from scouts based in Western Tirisfal, about another sect of Scarlets being ambushed by Forsaken, and forced to flee. *

*Yet, the Inquisitor was not idle, nor would he simply wait for those who were likely coming for him. Letters were written, plans were made. And, above all…he was bracing himself. For as those pieces of parchment were sent out, he remembered each cut. As he performed his daily training, he suffered each moment of pain. *

He knew what was coming…but he would not go willingly…and…were he to survive…vengeance will be assured…

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It was late in the evening, that Ailardan found himself awake, sitting outside of the Monastery. A few hours prior, the first of the expected bounty hunters arrived, intent on capturing the Scarlet. Though, this one, a Death Knight, rather than simply trade him in for the bounty, sought to use him as a bargaining chip, to keep another free from the clutches of the Forsaken. It was almost admirable… almost.

As the foul woman was first confronted by Oracle Lightsong, who was rewarded with a dagger in the side, she was pulled from the fight by another of the Scarlets. As the Ebon went to leave, Ailardan watched with amusement as Redblade hurled an axe into the woman’s back, causing her to react with frustration. That did not last long, as the Inquisitor, tired of the woman’s vile words, pulled out an incendiary liquid, held in a crystal flask, and, after lighting a rag which stoppered the bottle, hurled it at the woman, forcing her to flee like a coward.

As he sat outside the Monastery…he knew there would be others that would come…

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Target Acquired: Grenn, Ailardan
Sentence: Trial by Combat, Dance Of The Dead
(RP-PVP event)

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A trap…

That was what Ailardan had walked right into.

It all started with a letter…from one particular noblewoman. She had wanted to speak to him, regarding information about a certain… -enemy- of theirs.

The first warning sign should have been the location. The abandoned crypt, near the tomb of Uther, was a good spot for a secret meeting. It was also an ideal location for an ambush…underground, lit only by torches, and, out of sight of the Tomb’s guardians, were something to happen.

The second warning sign should have been the timing. He had just seen her a few days prior, in Stormwind. If she had any information, why not give it to him there?

The third warning sign should have been the supposed information…how would she have learned information about -that- one that he himself didn’t know?

All those signs would have normally been recognized by the Inquisitor, and acted upon. But, whether it was the stress of the season, the nightmares of the past…but the Scarlet had not seen them, and now…there he was, in the dark, dry crypt, surrounded by Forsaken, Deathstalkers, Dark Rangers, and Deathguards, with an adherent of the Forgotten Shadow to boot.

Yet…he did not go down easily, his blades whirling in hand, fending them off as best as he could. The odds were against him, and he knew he was not getting out of this, but, the Scarlet was determined to hurt them as much as possible. In the end, though, he was stabbed, slashed, shot in the thigh with an arrow…Yet he fought viciously, even biting off several of the fingers of a Deathstalker, who had been trying to shove a leather gag in his mouth. Before he was finally subdued, his communicator had fallen from him, along with a letter…from the noblewoman who he believed betrayed him…

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It had been over a week since his capture, and, for the most part, he had been left alone…

Then again, being hogtied and gagged for almost all that time does not present much fun to the Scarlet’s captors. But Ailardan was no fool… He knew that it was because of -her-, that the other rotters did not touch him. No…-she- wanted him for herself… So he watched and waited… He had upon Mayor Northgate and the Ebon as they were hauled in, a momentary expression of surprise on his face, recognizing the pair. Yet, he did not speak much…not that he could, having that infernal gag in his mouth.

Then they were gone, both likely released in one form or another, not that he was in any position to know. He could only sit there and wait, trying to remain resilient. In the darkness of the night, when his dreams eluded him, one could not help but imagine what awaited…what cruel torture that foe had planned for him…

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Sefi was making casual conversation in the Slaughtered Lamb with a male patron when the topic moved towards the Forsaken warrants. It was then she realized the mysterious man and her had a few things in common, well at least acquaintances in common. Some names became dropped on people taken and later released, namely a Gideon Northgate. Apparently, some abbot was taken as well, but Sefi did not dig into who that was, she was more interested in another name. One she hasn’t heard from in a while. This man was knowledgeable. Between sips of bourbon she calculated the risks, does she ask? Finally, she does.

"Mr. Grenn?"

Her suspicions were confirmed. It has been too long since she has heard from the man. Now she worried, would he start naming names…

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Broken…the Scarlet’s mind was broken…

It had been several weeks now since his capture, and, a few days ago, he was pulled out of the holding cell, and, was put onto a skeletal steed. He knew better than to try and escape, his weakened, malnourished frame likely unable to carry him to safety. That sole eye looked around, the shaded trees of Silverpine little comfort as the the Forsaken and the Scarlet made their way along a winding path.

It took a few hours at most, but, finally, the pair made it to the coast, only for that wary gaze to fall upon a rather large ship, which was anchored as near to the shore as possible, while avoiding getting stuck on the rocky outcroppings that lined the coast. As he was slowly marched up the gangplank, he took one last look around, before the Forsaken tugged the rope, pulling him towards a door which led into the dark interior of the ship…

Being forced onward, he had drowned out the mutterings of the rotter that was his escort, before long reaching a door that was soon opened, and he was pushed inside. From there he looked around, the room seemingly like an office. A desk, a pair of chairs, only, one of the chairs had an assortment of straps built onto it, which, Ailardan soon found out what they were for. The ropes which bound his hands behind him was soon released, before he was set into the chair, each strap set firmly against his frame, designed to prevent in the most minute of movement. From then…he was left alone, almost for a whole day…

The next day the Scarlet woke up, still alone in the room, trapped in this place. The creaking of the boat was noticeable, as was the smell…iron…blood…the stink was pervasive, quite noticeable how much of that scent was in the air. But, he did not have long to ponder the meaning of that, for soon, the door behind him opened, and, a light set of footsteps was heard, the door soon closing once more…

After the long conversation of the first day, the Scarlet was processing the revelations he had revealed to him. A former comrade, willing to sell out him and his friends…a noblewoman who claimed to be an ally, the one who betrayed him… he had been tempted to give in, to reveal what he knew. But, he dismissed that notion, for who could say that, what he had been told was the truth? He soon fell asleep, to dreams of his loved ones…

The third day on that boat was when the axe would fall… for as Ailardan sat in there, the Deathstalker came in once more, the word games and jabs tossed by both, the Forsaken never rising to the bait of his remarks about her dead husband. It was when she got close that he noticed her…scent. Not reeking of death and decay…but sweet, pleasant, feminine… That confusion was increased as she sat in his lap, words spoken as he tried to get her to remove herself.

It was then that his worst nightmare came to pass…for as the Deathstalker removed her hood, revealed to him was the face of his wife…his beloved Tamora…every facet the same… all but those eyes, which were hauntingly red hue…the sign of what the Deathstalker truly was. The Scarlet could not believe it at first, for he had seen her recently, just before being captured by the Forsaken. The wards, the traps…all that preparation…all for naught.

He cried out, screamed, strained against the bonds that held him to the chair, all while the smug, condescending grin appeared on the face of his love, his wife…the mother of his children… That sudden horror passed over him, and, her twisted game was revealed…the lives of his children…for servitude to her. That decision was dreadful…a devastating choice either way… to betray those who put their trust in him…or to lose his beloved Stefan…his darling Rowena…

He made the choice…and, with a snarl, those lips locked onto the flesh between shoulder and bone, snarling, ghoulish sounds heard as a chunk of his body was ripped away, blood spurting onto the face of what used to be Tamora. At that point, his mind…his spirit…his body…all broken… the blood covering the left side of his face as he sat there, soon to be brought to a holding cell…knowing he was damned…all for those who were faithless…

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On an evening haunt through Ironforge, Ardgerim would take a peak at the local bulletin board for any short-term work. Usually one to extend a helping divine hand, the Dark Iron always sought way of bettering the world around him. Grazing through a few bandits and mad scientists, he would see a familiar name up for arrest: Ailardan Grenn.

The dwarf would speak softly under his breath, a slight tremble before he took the paper. “Ail… by the Light, wha’ve you gotten into now?” In his memory, Ailardan didn’t seem like the type to commit these crimes. With that in mind, Ardgerim rolled up the parchment out for his arrest and kept it by his waist-guard. “I pray they are wrong, my friend… seems I’ve got some treckin’ t’ do.”

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