The Black Flag

A text begins circulating around Stormwind in both Common and Thalassian, and reads:

It is often said that all elves are united by a common ancestry. While this may be true, the millennia and drastic, life-altering circumstances have resulted in unique cultures among the disparate factions. Some say that we ren’dorei are no different from a sin’dorei; that would be akin to saying that a Zandalari is the same as a Darkspear, merely because they are both trolls.

There are those of us among the ren’dorei who, even before our transformation, consistently opposed any kind of alliance with, much less allegiance to, the Horde. It is why our quel’dorei cousins, who remain untainted by Kael’thas’ bargain with the Legion, chose to remain with the Alliance; it is why we ren’dorei, banished because we did not embrace the puritanical hypocrisy espoused in the “restored” Sunwell, chose to ally with you. While the death and destruction unleashed by the Third War may have led those who serve the failed state in Silvermoon to forget (and perhaps, disgustingly, forgive) the Horde’s crimes in the Second War, there were those who did not forget, and most certainly did not forgive.

That is the mistake that the Alliance, particularly the Royal House of Wrynn, has committed several times in recent years. They have too often chosen to show leniency and mercy to an enemy that has consistently shown them none. King Varian had the opportunity, following the defeat of Garrosh Hellscream, to dismantle the Horde. He instead chose to allow it to remain under supposedly “enlightened” leadership - and his decision resulted in Garrosh’s escape, the foundation of the Iron Horde, and the return of Gul’dan and his Legion masters in the Broken Isles. This ultimately led to the death of not only King Varian, but also the “enlightened” leader he allowed to take the reins of the Horde - and hence to the elevation of the Banshee Queen.

And now the Alliance is in the hands of a young king who wears the garb of a warrior, but is unwilling to accept what war really requires. War is fighting, and fighting is killing…and yet, King Anduin appears bent on repeating the mistake his father made. He will allow the Horde to choose another “enlightened” leader once Sylvanas is dead, so as to repeat the cycle down the line. That mistake not only killed his father, but thousands of others. And for what? How many kings must Stormwind lose to Horde treachery before it is willing to take the necessary steps?

All those who claim to work for a better future for Azeroth: raise the black flag. Give no quarter, for you shall receive none. Take no prisoners, for they shall take none. Do not forgive. Do not forget. And above all, do not falter. For the past thirty years, the pain and suffering that has been suffered by Azeroth and its people has had the Horde at the center of it - and we have done nothing to stop it.

It is time to break the cycle.

At the bottom is a stamped impression of a dark swan against a crescent moon.

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Pausing while on patrol, Chambliss reads the notice.

“Whoa, this looks like trouble! I hope it doesn’t turn inta onena those, “no true Alliance guy” things. Not cool!”

“Guess I’d better report this, just in case!”

He walks off.

Witheeis was making his way from the Mage Tower to the Dwarven District to catch the tram back home to Ironforge. As he did, he noticed a piece of paper floating on the wind snatched it, reading the Thalassian text. A frown.

“…Oh dear… This… Can’t be good…” Clutching the notice in his hand, he continued on his way.

“This can’t be good at all.”

Anya stepped out of the one of the Harbor offices. Another shipment of blankets, bandages, and medicine were headed up to the refugee camps. And good, solid food headed to the smaller camp where what was left of Kyn…no, still hers, for now, Sentinel unit was. She stops near a notice post, tracing the words on the letter carefully. Two weeks ago, she would have shaken her head and gone on her way. Now…

The faces of the fallen flashed through her head. Elre. Merwyb, the rest. One hand tightened into a fist, her knuckles going white under her mail gauntlet. It was a great deal harder to laugh it off, now. Her sisters, gone. Her kingdom…her kingdom has suborned itself to the monsters that tried so hard to kill it. Anya took a long breath. They were words to consider on that paper.

Across one of the manifesto pamplets, posted to a bulletin board near the auction house in the Trade District, the following note is pinned:

I would advise the author to remember that “she who fights with monsters best beware, lest she becomes a monster”…but given who it is, I think it is a little late for that.

You do NOT speak for all of us, warlock.

- O.K.

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