Zone: Old DEATHKNELL (town)
Time: 7pm 11th of April server time.
Event Series: The Altar of Maggots: Treble in the Dark
The ring of the Deathknell had broken out chiming across Tirisfal, many of the forsaken left have gathered to do their part in reclaiming Lordaeron and rebuilding it for their people. No tyrant ruler to lead them astray, they come together as one. A call for assistance has been asked by any whom have combative or exorcism experience. Far up in the mountains of Tirisfal is a place known as the Whispering Forest, currently occupied by a group of Brill and Undercity survivors. These people, mere citizens of a broken people gather around the faedragon circle as a man lay before them within. This man was a knight of lordaeron, an ex-paladin of the Silver Hand. Dirk Gallowswing. His current status is a comatose state, consumed by two cosmic forces fighting over his body…
Of Death and of Void.
The call for help is to assist on a prepared day to perform an exorcism on this man, the Altar of Maggots fears that whatever is inside could yet destroy us all. With preparation and expertise at the ready we can only hope to lessen the collateral damage it may bring…
This event will shake the foundation of many things to come…
Event One Prelude: Treble in the Dark
There is not much explanation needed when discussing the confusion on your loyalties as a forsaken, our home has been lost on many fronts, many times… but this one takes the cake. Forsaken by the humans of Lordaeron, forsaken by the gilneans of Gilneas and now once more forsaken by our very own Queen who pulled us out of all the hell we have withstood. There is no wonder why a lot of forsaken are so confused in their loyalty. Losing Undercity was a large hit to the metaphorical heart. Many of the forsaken were struggling to find new homes, the harsh weather in Orgrimar does not bode well for a corpse most of the time. We all miss the dark and dank depths of the Undercity, to the living it was a cold and dark place full of death… but thats exactly what made it our home. We loved every inch of that F*ing cess pit.
Hobs: “…what troublesome fate have you brought us. Gallowswing.”
Currently up in the mountains was a sacred place, a place where alot of shadow sermons were held. A place to hide away from the world. The Whispering Forest. Alongside Deathspit’s fellow brethren of maggots, a large group of citizens that took refuge after the cities fall would also call the forest home. The battlebards known as Pulse of the Maggots had defended them during the Tirisfal attack, fleeing from Brill as Alliance had chased them up into the mountains they pushed back many of the SI:7 that attempted to hunt them down. These people that were saved saw them as heros. Through protection and the charming ( brutal ) tunes they gave to distract them from the hell they had just flee’d from, the battlebards swore to protect the citizens that lost their homes. Freedom fighters in their own right. The people slowly formed into a bit of a cult worshipping metal as a 7th cosmic force, a cult that would operate under a banner called the Altar of Maggots.
Hobs: “…we have a place for you if we can safely remove this force writhing within. For now here among the Fae you are safe, but this here is no life for one such as you. I know you can hear me inside there brother, but I won’t take it to heart if you wish to rejoin the unbound knights. You will always be welcomed as a duality under both banners.”
Hobs looked over the man lying dead centre of the Fae circle, the little fae dragons singing their tunes warding of the beast within this strange mans body.
Hobs: “…but alas. I must call for more people if we wish to free your mind. This is why they created the Lordaeron Reclamation system, to help our brothers and sisters in need… and you my friend are most definitely in need.”
Hobs stood up, his creaking body could be heard by the many members of the Altar of Maggots sitting around the fae dragon circle. His eyes looked them over and then he nodded toward them.
“Have a care maggots, the beast inside is not to be stirred… the Monastery will have to wait for the time being, this man needs our help. Its time we rung the Deathknell.”
Leaning against one of the trees nearby was Stayne, guitar in hand tuning it as he stared over at Hobs leaning down at the man in the faedragon circle. His fingers awkwardly fumbled about with the guitar as he stared with some serious intent. To him the Deathknell call may not be enough, perhaps even though he is new… he could enlist some help from others. Pushing off the tree he then threw his guitar on his back and walked off through the Whispering forest, it was time to go speak to a particular few for some assistance.