Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to yet another quest thread about Warcraft. In this story, we take on the role of Anlec Falconcrest, third son of the noble Falconcrest line of Alterac who leaves home and seeks the life of a knight abroad.
After fighting in the first and second wars, he returns home to find his land in ruins and the name of Alterac a curse upon the lips of men, elves and dwarves.
Can you help Anlec come into his own as a lord?
Can you make the Eagle rise once more?
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These are the lands of alterac, fairest of all the kingdoms. Your inheritance is the town of Strahnbrad, located at the center of the royal road that passes through alterac and is the lifeblood that sustains your people. The lands to the north are your domain, and encircled on the map. It includes bountiful farmland and groves that are in good demand for building ships.
The closest fortress to you is Falcon's Rest. The ancient halls of your fathers and currently occupied by you. Further to the North lies Eagle's Perch, an Alteraci Fortress that is claimed by the Alliance forces led by the Lordaeronian general Othmar Garithos.
To the south, at tower pointe is the Garrison that was commanded by general Hath during the second war. It lies abandoned now that Stromgarde forces have withdrawn from the passses. It falls to the king, Isiden Perenolde to
nominate a new garrison commander, and is a high honor the new noble houses are jostling for.
On the other hand, you have nearly been assassinated by a shadowy group that calls itself the Syndicate. They have promised to make Alterac run red with the blood of people like you and offer it to their new masters.
Ya there op?
The brown block shows the location of Thoras Trollbane's army. Alterac has historically been the weakest of the human nations due to it's size and manpower. Right before the orcs invaded azeroth, Stromgarde had attempted to invade Alterac and were beaten back by general Hath at tower pointe.
While the restoration of Alterac is underway, Trollbane has constructed a fortified encampment right outside the borders of alterac and withdrawn his forces there. Time will tell if he will stand down or strike out once more.
You have problems of your own to deal with. The leader of the Alliance forces has been slighted by your militia's attempt to retake Falcon's Rest, and had besieged it.
You order your forces to stand down and move to the western entrance of Alterac valley. The mages from Dalaran have confirmed your suspicion that there might be demons involved, and you lead your cavalry to deal with them.
The battle is perhaps the strangest you fight in your career. You find orcs who are being attacked by other orcs and the traitorous forces of the syndicate, and form a loose alliance with them. It ends with you finding out that your brother Otto is beyond saving and that general Hath had sold his soul out. To find your idol fallen is crushing, and you try to forget yourself in drink.
In the midst of drinking with your soldiers you hit upon a brilliant idea and write it down before falling asleep.
yes
You wake up, your head and body feeling like a herd of horses trampled over it. Most of the men around you are sleeping on the benches and logs. The smell is a mixture of ash, sweat and piss. The first thing you do is look for a bucket to throw up into.
After doing that you remember writing something when you were drunk. On the other hand, the sentries are nowhere to be seen.
>look for the sentries
>try and find the paper.
>look for the sentries
because the most revolutionary ideas are ones reached when in a drunken stupor.
check something isnt on fire which is probably why there is a smell of ash and why they are gone, and maybe blow our commander horn to wake all these bums up if need be
(the smell of ash is because of the campfires bruh)
You wonder where the damn sentries are. You are still in hostile territory, and despite the fact that your men fought admirably and acquitted themselves well, they are at the end of the day still green soldiers. This would barely count as a skirmish compared to grim batol.
You wonder if going through the motions of finding them might be too tiring. You were the same once, drinking so hard after your first battle that you forgot your name.
The quartermaster responded by blowing the warhorn at the start of the day when all the brothers were hungover. That taught them all the value of drinking in moderation.
>Play something on the trumpet at full volume, waking everyone up
>deal with the sentries discreetly.
>>Play something on the trumpet at full volume, waking everyone up
>deal with the sentries discreetly
scold the sentries good, they couldn't have been spent since we haven't whipped them yet
Rolled 1 (1d2)
Forget finding the sentries. the entire unit needs to learn a lesson. That will teach them to drink moderately in the future. And leave the sentries at their posts. You walk back to the fireside. Benedict is still sleeping with his trumpet in his backpack. You pick it up in your arms and cradle it like a baby as you walk to the sentries' tower.
You climb upwards, feeling the wind in your hair and stand and look at the lake. So quiet. So pristine. Then you put the trumpet to your lips and start blowing. The song is Eagle in the Morning. A loud proud tone that fills your heart with pride, but now it might as well be an earsplitting racket of orcs.
That wakes the camp up. Thinking they are under attack, you watch as nearly two hundred drunk and hungover men stumble up and try to get their weapons.
>let the commotion continue
>chastise them with a speech: Write in.
>>let the commotion continue
>>let the commotion continue
tfw knew this would happen
TOO LATE
promote ourself to rabble rouser and call it a day
You let the commotion continue. Let the fools think that they are under attack. The panic will sober them up soon enough. The orcs you fought or the stromgarde brigade would have butchered the lot. Once it is done, you will need to speak with the men. Then you need to speak with the sentries.
You spy the tracks leading outward. Two sets. Iron shod boots, and they are walking towards the orc camp. Had the orcs lured the sentries away?
>talk to the men now
>go after the sentries
>>go after the sentries
>talk to the men now
If the sentries are gone, there could be trouble, and we don't want to wander off alone again.
>>talk to the men now
"I'm all for celebrating after a victory, but let this be a reminder to do it in moderation until we're back behind our walls."
>talk to the men now
no good to be so drunk on victory we cant take care of ourselves
You would talk with the sentries later. The men that were milling around and turning the camp upside down were a bit of your concern. They were boys who had caught a lucky break, not career soldiers. You would need to watch over them as a mother duck over her ducklings.
You blow another blast on the trumpet and that brings them to attention. You see a man, being helped to stand with the two men around him. The sight is comical. Its all you can do not to laugh.
"Gentlemen. I trust you had a good time last night." Several cheers and ayes come floating back.
"Good, I am glad for you. All we needed was for the orcs in yonder encampment to fall upon us and we would all be slaughtered like pigs. You saw what they did to my father's men, and what they did to otto. Tell me, do you want to end up as a cripple and sport to the leering savages?"
The silence is deafening. You repeat your question, a shade louder this time.
"Well, DO YOU?"
"No sir." Good old Benedictus. He sees the trumpet in your hands.
"We are only as strong as the weakest one of us. If any one of us slips and falls, the man next to him loses his life. We are soldiers. We fight together, and we win together. Let this be a lesson to you, I love the celebrations that victory brings, but let us save it when we are behind our walls. "
The men are looking contrite. You feel a little bad for them.
"At least there will be more women there."
You get down from the sentry outlook amid a few cheers. To their credit, despite the hangovers, the men are rushing to their tasks, and cleaning their weapons.
>look for the magi
>look for the sentries
>>look for the magi
We should bring her with to find the sentries.
>>look for the sentries
Rolled 1 (1d2)
You wonder where your guests have gone. The magi were of critical importance to the battle and the last you remember of them was them going off to their corner of the encampment. You wanted to talk to them about what had happened to the demon or what it meant now. And also because you wanted to see the arcanist again.
The camp is bustling with activity as your soldiers clean the mess from last night. Most of them look away from your eyes and a few offer up salutes which you return in kind. The chastisement will not break them. It will make them stronger. They are still your boys, and part of your command.
By the time you reach the sentries stationed outside their tents, the camp seems to be back to fully functional. A pair of sentries now man the lookout and everything seems to be in order.
The soldiers stationed outside give you a salute as you walk in. You come out furiously in a moment.
The mages are gone.
>ask the sentries where they went.
>begin to look for them yourself.
>look for the sentries posted at the lookout who have gone missing.
>>look for the sentries posted at the lookout who have gone missing.
>look for the sentries posted at the lookout who have gone missing.
We should also ask those sentries if the mages are alright before doing this.
>>ask the sentries where they went.
The sentries are as clueless as you are
"We don't know milord. We was drinking last knight and Brod here nearly died in his own vomit. I was taking care of him, reckoned it would be bad that he survived the battle and drowned in his bile"
Brod seems to take umbrage at that fact and opens his mouth. You silence the two of them with a raised hand. "I will have you know that the two of you are the worst sentries on either side of the Thandol span."
Your mood is black and you walk towards the stables. You see Benedict leading some men in cleaning the horses. You beckon him over and grab the nearest saddled horse. Benedict does the same.
The newer pair of sentries salute the two of you as you set out to follow the trail of the sentries. You notice that there are several smaller sets of footprints in parallel with the sentries iron shod tracks. You have no idea what they are.
The ride takes you all the way to the orc encampment, and even as you reach it, the orcs barring the way let the two of you through, as though you have been expected.
The two of you are pointed towards the center of the encampment, and you see the older orcs in wolf pelts and the mages talking. The two sentries are there as well, and a gaggle of orcish children surrounds the two men. They are all busy, and no one notices you or benedict.
>announce your presence by addressing the magi
>announce your presence by addressing the sentries
>>announce your presence by addressing the sentries
Our men have misbehaved, we can't let the orcs see them getting away with it.
>>announce your presence by addressing the sentries
We are in charge of our men not others. If they want to borrow our men, they must at least ask before taking our men.
>>announce your presence by addressing the sentries
Even if the magi asked them to accompany them, they should have stayed their posts/patrols. Remind them they shall be punished for this later.
"Having some fun are we boys?"
There is no mirth in your voice as you say this. Your men have abandoned their post, and for their sake you hope they are exceptionally good liars or have a damn good reason.
The closer man turns pale when he looks at you. He manages a salute and his partner turns into a similar shade of white. Curiously, the orc children do the same. All of them salute you. Their tiny green hands raised up to their heads.
"I didn't know your sentry duty extended to the orc encampment lads. I expected you to raise the alarm, not go off fraternizing with these."
You point towards the orcs.
"We were just following orders skipp- I mean Lord Falconcrest. Those children was coming into our encampent and we tried shooing them away, but they didn't go. We didn't want to raise the alarm because of a bunch of wee orclets." The first man stammers.
"How very considerate of you. And how does that explain you not being at your posts and being here in the orc encampment?"
"The mage prince and the old mage. Wanted us to lead them back to their encampment. We would refuse but we was afraid they would turn us into sheep milord." It is hard to tell if the man is lying or telling the truth. He is shivering considerably.
"Is that so?"
"I swears on me mum and Bob's mum too milord. We didn't wants to become sheep."
"I will talk to the mages about this. Light help you if you are lying. Carry on soldier."
You turn and walk into the circle, and stand behind Rathaella, watching her. Modera and Kael are discussing something with the elders but rathaella seems bored. She looks at you and gives you a quick squeeze of the hand.
This is entirely unexpected.
>ask rathaella why she did that.
>ask Kael'thas or modera what they are doing here.
>>ask Kael'thas or modera what they are doing here.
return the squeeze.
>>ask Kael'thas or modera what they are doing here.
>>ask Kael'thas or modera what they are doing here.
Return hand squeeze,
>>ask Kael'thas or modera what they are doing here.
inb4 love triangle between us, Anna and qt Elf
Nah, elf will have the hots for jaina.
Almost as if by reflex, you squeeze her hand. She does have the most beautiful smile you have ever seen. You can talk to her later. You have business to attend to.
"Prince Kael'Thas, Archmage Modera. If I may interrupt your academic discussion."
Archmage modera takes no notice. Prince Kael'thas turns around and looks at you as though you are a particularly irritating fly buzzing around his head.
"Ah, Lord Falconcrest. Glad you could join us, I would have expected you to rest for a while. I am sure Arcanist Rathaella would agree with that assessment."
Out of the corner of your eye, you see her turn into a delicate shade of pink.
"That may be so prince Kael'thas. However I have campaigned and fought long enough to recover from minor scrapes and bruises. Not all of us have the long life or arcane power to study magic while our homes fall apart."
The prince's purpling face tells you that he has grasped the meaning behind it well and true. There is nothing he can say without embarrassing himself. You fought at Quel'Thalas, alongside the high elves, while the Prince was in Dalaran. Your positions in the war mirrors his to a fault.
"Kindly have me know when we are ready to set out, I only await your command." You finish with the slightest of bows.
"Very well lord anlec, Lady Modera is telling the orcs about what happened to most of their kind during the war. She has explained to them that they are largely prisoners now, and as it stands, they are in Alteraci soil. Your land. Their chieftain wishes to speak with you."
>accept the invitation, speak with drek'thar now
>decline the invitation, speak with drek'thar later
(looks like the lads are returning)
>>accept the invitation, speak with drek'thar now
>>accept the invitation, speak with drek'thar now
We gotta make it clear that if we're associated with them in any way, the Alliance is going to bring the day of the rope to Alterac, so they need to keep quiet.
>>accept the invitation, speak with drek'thar now
>>accept the invitation, speak with drek'thar now
"Is their chieftain available to speak with now? I would prefer to get this out of the way."
Modera hears that at least. You wonder if she had been listening to you and Prince Kael'Thas as well. How different are they from people like you, you wonder. She grunts and growls and the old orc is wheeled in front of you on a chair. The old warrior with the strange blade is standing behind him.
"Chieftain Drek'thar?" The question is a mere formality.
"Fal-kon-krest" The old brute grunts out in response.
"I am not going to waste your time. You and your people are on Alteraci land. You have heard that my nation's interaction with your kind has nearly brought us to our ruin. I am willing to let your people leave by the eastern pass. Leave as soon as you can. There is no need for bloodshed between us."
Modera translates as deftly as she can but sweet words cannot allay the import of what you mean.
The orcs tense and several of them grasp their crude axes and and swords. You fight an urge to take a step back. To do so would be to show cowardice and the orcs can sense weakness.
"Chieftain Drek'thar says that they have respected this land far more than your kind. He says they live with harmony with the land and do not see the names of Alterac or Falconcrest writ upon this valley. He says blaming them for the actions of other clans would be like blaming Alterac for the actions of your father.
>write in response
>roll 3d6+1 to persuade drek'thar.
(note, the orcs will not leave alterac without bloodshed, this roll determines how the orcs treat you after this incident is over. If the worst happens we can kill them all later)
Rolled 6, 1, 3 + 1 = 11 (3d6 + 1)
Rolled 4, 3, 5 + 1 = 13 (3d6 + 1)
"So be it then. Just try to stay discrete, and hopefully no one else will know that you're here.
Rolled 5, 6, 3 + 1 = 15 (3d6 + 1)
Attempting to roll, never done it before
Rolled 2, 5, 2 = 9 (3d6)
Gonna roll with this.
>persuade roll: success.
"I know it galls you old orc, but this is the hand you are dealt. I hate to present this choice to you. Believe me, I would rather not have come here at all."
You turn around and look at the orc children, they seem to be poking the sentries and one of them is offering him what looks like dried meat, while two others try and up on the other sentry.
You have seen these orcs as savage beasts on the battlefield, but never like this. You would be as bad as those that condemned your nation to the sword if you kill them.
Modera is translating when you stop her. Taking a deep breath you begin to speak.
"Old orc, on pain of death, your clan is to remain here in this valley, it is abandoned by my people, and we have no need of it. But beware if you step out from it's confines, for I shall kill your clan. This I promise you."
You have cast the die, may the light forgive you.
As modera is done translating, the orcs growl and a few of them make threatening gestures, but the old orc silences them. It says something that Modera translates.
"Well spoken human, my warriors would like to kill you for this outburst, but I see the truth in your words. You haven't harmed my clan yet, and speak as well as you allow. I cannot fault you for caring about the welfare of your clan. Let us hope we never have to meet again, for both my sake and yours."
You nod and extend your hand from instinct. The old orc does the same.
Even as you do so, you can hear the trumpets from your scouts blaring in the distance. A single rider is rushing madly towards you, wearing the livery of your riders.
"Milord, the militia. The militia, by the eagle, the militia..."
"What about it you blithering fool? Speak quickly."
"The militia have been arrested milord. The Alliance generals and the King have entered the valley, They ride with the vanguard and will be here within the hour!"
This is getting better and better.
>stay in the orc encampment
>return to your riders
>>return to your riders
>>return to your riders
We gotta turn them back!
>>return to your riders
looks like anlec is getting a viking crew cut lads.
>return to your riders
Let the Chieftain know whats up and maybe he may want to move slightly farther down the valley.
This is a disaster. If the militia has been arrested, it means you are to stand trial for breaching the peace and starting a war with Lordaeron. You might have a leg to stand on but
you are now in the presence of the orcs. You will probably lose your head in Alterac Valley.
A blind panic seizes you and you run outside the circle. Your men, you have to get back to your men! You need to put some distance between the orcs and yourself. Right now.
You tremble as you try to mount the horse and fall over the first time. Panic grips you. Every moment you waste now brings your demise closer. You ride all the way back to the camp at a breakneck speed, and watch as the men there salute you.
A soft voice behind you startles you, and you see the tent flap open. A woman, slender and incredibly beautiful stands, her figure illuminated perfectly as a silhouette from the sunlight outside. A blind panic seizes you as you recoil from her.
Is this an angel of justice, come to bring you to your end?
Even as you shield your eyes from the apparition, it comes closer into the room.
"Anlec? What is wrong?"
That voice. You have heard that before.
Its Rathaella. She has followed you, concerned about you after you ran away from the encampment.
"I am ruined, Rathaella. I will be an traitor, an alteraci who hobnobs with orcs just like his traitor king and traitor brothers. The Alliance armies are approaching from the western pass. My militia has been arrested, and I am standing at a stone's throw away from the orcs. Can you take me away far from here?"
She hugs you tightly, and whispers. " I will be alright. Listen to me. It will be alright. I promise. These orcs are not like the others."
"They don't care. If it is a greenskin and a man of Alterac, they both die. Never should have come here."
"Listen to me, Anlec. I have a plan."
>listen to Rathaella.
>ask her to spirit you away.
>>listen to Rathaella.
She's been the voice of reason so far, she couldn't lead us wrong now.
>>listen to Rathaella.
>>listen to Rathaella.
>>listen to Rathaella.
>"Oh that's right. I have my own plan I think you should take a look at."
>"It's in my pants."
>hfw
Supportin.
>listen to Rathaella.
You breathe deeply, and hold on to her. Your panic has made you a scared child, and you are ready to listen to any voice, especially one as comforting and beautiful as her.
Your breathing helps you calm your mind and you listen.
"Anlec, Archmage Modera and Prince Kael'thas are ruling members of the council of six. They will be able to convince the alliance leaders that you were working to help them in an investigation into alterac valley. Listen to me."
"It is fine for them. The very fact that I am here, standing over a ransacked camp with human bodies in it, while the orcs have a camp right next to me is reason enough to be executed as a traitor. I should have known better. I should have planned for this."
Then it hits you. You did write down something, something that would deal with the orcs peacefully and make you stand out in the eyes of the king and your people. You had put the paper in your...
Quickly, you let go of her, and start unlacing your breeches.
"Cmon, help me here Arcanist."
"What is it you are doing? Why are you unlacing your breeches?"
"My plan. It is IN those breeches?"
"This is no time for making crude jokes Anlec."
Rathaella's face has become a bright cherry red. So focused you are on your plan that you don't even think that you are stripping yourself infront of a woman who is an accomplished mage, and can turn you into a sheep.
As you finally unlace your breeches, you look up and see Rathaella hide her face behind her hands. You pull up the paper and read what you wrote.
The handwriting is terrible, but legible
"Ask orcs to become alterac internment camp in valley."
Yes, of course! The perfect solution. An internment camp for orcs that would allow them to live here at relative peace and without bloodshed.
You look back at Rathaella, and see her face is red with rage.
"What is wrong?"
She takes the paper from your hand and turns it over.
On the other side of the paper, crudely drawn are two people engaged in coitus. One of them has the dark hair that is closely cropped, and a hint of a beard, and the other one is clearly an elf with light hair.
What were you thinking?
>tell Rathaella you were drunk
>run out of the room and meet with drek'thar.
>>tell Rathaella you were drunk
Actually, I don't see a reason why we can't do both.
Add >run out of the room and meet with drek'thar.
>>run out of the room and meet with drek'thar.
HEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
>>run out of the room and meet with drek'thar.
We should probably put our pants back on though.
>Actually, I don't see a reason why we can't do both.
she will demand an explanation, then you have do a drop spaghetti check.
If you guys are enjoying this, don't forget to pop on to the archives and vote for the thread.
Also, her pic
can we at least mention that we were drunk on our way out the door before she can say anything else?
Meh trim the damn eyebrows.
>not digging the eyebrows
Peasant with pleb taste detected.
Bitch I'm a night elf Mohawk I will kill your whole fucking family!!!
calm down, Mr. T. Have a snickers.
Why?
Your face is suddenly hotter than the sun, and words stick at the back of your throat. Hastily you begin to pull up your breeches and thank the light that there are none of your men here. While you are lacing your breeches, you mumble hastily that you were drunk, and promise to make it up to her.
You rush out, your face radiating heat like the sun itself and ask for a fresh horse. Benedict is dismounting from his horse. You order him to welcome the alliance vanguard into the encampent and delay them as long as he possibly can. As he turns his horse away with the house Falconcrest banners and orders the men to mount up behind him, you set off for the Orcish encampment.
The orcs let you through and you don't bother to dismount. You ride down the entire line and demand to speak with drek'thar. The orcs don't speak common, but they understand the name Drek'thar.
The orc, Galvangar comes and holds the reins of your horses and leads you to a tent made of wolf furs. The chieftain is there, and thankfully Modera is there too. Of Prince Kael'Thas, there is no sign.
"My lady I need you to translate for me right NOW." Archmage modera is not habituated to listen to demands like these and it shows on her face. In the dim light of the chieftain's hut, you notice that she looks attractive without the lines on her face.
"Why would that be Lord Falconcrest. You seem to have made Prince Kael'thas angry. He doesn't think very highly of you, and I am inclined to agree."
"Because your pet orcs lives - and mine - depend upon it! You heard the rider. The alliance forces will kill every last one of us if they see us here with the orcs!"
"And that is my problem how?"
"I don't know you annoying bitch, just translate so we don't get an troll's crewcut."
Modera's eyes sparkle dangerously and you worry for a moment that you have gone too far. Then the orc growls something, and modera answers that.
"Very well, he will listen to you. Just be quick about it."
"tell him that I can allow to live peacefully in the valley, if he agrees to pretend to surrender to me."
The outburst from the orc is not unexpected, but it is withering.
"He tells that he would rather let his clan die than be the slaves to humans."
"Tell him that he will not have the choice soon. If he doesn't take it, his clan will be killed down to the last woman and child."
Another pause as the orc listens and then it responds. Modera translates.
"He says that they left their old world because the other clans wanted them to worship demons. They found refuge here instead. This is their last home. They will defend it to the last."
"Tell him I don't care. He can have this land for his own. All he has to do is pretend that he is surrendering to me, and we can take care of the rest. The alliance internment act requires that every alliance nation pay for the orcish camps. Tell him that he can have Alterac valley as his land. He doesn't have to die today."
>roll 3d6+2 to convince.
Rolled 4, 6, 4 + 2 = 16 (3d6 + 2)
Farkin barmy coonts!!
Rolled 1, 1, 5 + 2 = 9 (3d6 + 2)
Bitch get on my level!!
Nah I love ya Wren!
Rolled 6, 4, 2 + 2 = 14 (3d6 + 2)
fug :DDD
how are you lads liking it so far?
is the pacing better than the last thread?
A bit but it seems like Anlec loses his head half the time. The other half he is super serious I was in a war fuck you!
definitely liking it.
Pacing seems ok to me.
yeah. If it is stuff about fighting, he is pretty good. But being caught by everyone gargling the big green cock is scary. Hell, his family is dead because they did that.
Its like living in a /pol/ neighborhood and giving starving syrians food. Your neighbors will kill you for being a 'shitskin lover'
Pacing is good, I'm enjoying the quest. user above is right though, Anlec could use a bit more consistency to his characterization. He seems to mainly be the gruff war veteran forced into herding cats, so that's probably the characterization you should go for.
Keep it up senpai.
As Modera is done speaking, the orc stares in your direction intently. For the second time, you believe that the orc doesn't need eyes to see. It takes a deep breath and speaks, slowly than ever before.
"Do I have your word on this Falconcrest?"
You pause.
"You do."
"And of what value is your word?"
"It is valuable enough that I slew mine own brother with my hands, because that was the price of your clan's aid. Judge for yourself. Just be quick about it."
The orc takes it's time to answer, and you can sense the minutes flow by. Then it bellows, and the assistant, Galvangar comes in. Drek'thar says something to him, and the orc leaves, looking darkly at you.
Modera sighs, with relief.
"Well?" You ask her.
"They accepted your offer. You certainly have a way with words. If only your manners weren't so abrasive."
"I learn from the best."
And with that parting quip, you leave the tent, Modera following you. You help her on to a horse, and she gracefully accepts your help. The two of you begin to ride for the rider's encampment when you see another figure rushing towards you. It is Rathaella, her hair flowing gracefully in the wind behind her. She stops and addresses Modera.
"My lady, the Alliance leaders have requested your presence on the far side of the lake, and Lord Falconcrest has been summoned there by the King Isiden Perenolde."
You notice she doesn't look at you once as she says that. Then the three of of you begin to trot alongside the lake, and head off into the distance where the leaders are located. You notice that you are in the center of the trio
>talk to rathaella about the picture.
>ask modera where Kael'thas is
>>ask modera where Kael'thas is
>ask modera where Kael'thas is
>>ask modera where Kael'thas is
Kael'thas hates us and is probably gonna tell the King about our deal with the orcs, we need to shut him down. Lewd drawings can wait.
>>ask modera where Kael'thas is
Now is not the time to think with our dicks.
That comes later.
Again, your mouth feels strangely dry when you look at Rathaella. She is glowering angrily at you, but her anger makes her look even more beautiful. Her blue-green eyes shine like the lagoons of Stranglethorn vale.
Tearing away from those eyes, you increase the pace of your horse and move closer to the archmage.
"Begging your pardon Archmage - "
"Oh, so you CAN apologize. Excuse me for not knowing better." This woman is insufferable. You wonder if a mage's skill and abrasiveness were related. It was often the same with young warriors, yet the best were the humblest. Mages seems to lack the latter kind.
"I was wondering where Prince Kael'Thas was."
"He is gone for a while. He should be back soon, don't worry. He will agree with your little - plan."
You were uncomfortable with the way she said the last word.
"I suppose you want your pound of flesh for helping me with your skill as a translator?"
"For that, and more, young man." She pats your head like you are a little schoolboy. Being patronized by her is even worse than being passively threatened by her.
"Name your price then."
"I want unlimited access to these orcs. You see, I am researching them, and having unlimited access to internment camps would be of great use to me. Me and anyone with me."
It seems a simple enough request, and you agree.
"Good. Let us charm the high aand mighty members of the Alliance then."
The Pavilion the alliance forces have set up is big, and you see knights patrolling it. A squadron of them comes up and asks who you are. Lady Modera answers them, and the knights allow the three of you, escorting you.
You see Benedict and the riders surrounded by several of the knights. Lady Modera and Rathaella are moving into the pavilion
>collect Benedict and enter with him as your banner bearer
>enter with the magi.
>>collect Benedict and enter with him as your banner bearer
We are a lord of the realm, after all.
>>enter with the magi.
>>collect Benedict and enter with him as your banner bearer
>>collect Benedict and enter with him as your banner bearer
>collect Benedict and enter with him as your banner bearer
(Holy shit its sleepy)
You let the mages enter. You do not follow them. Instead you walk over to the alliance knights who seem to be holding your men.
"Why are you holding these men?"
"They were acting suspicious."
"They are my men, and you will release them immediately."
"and who are you?"
"Lord Falconcrest. You are arresting my household troops on suspicion that is flimsy. I want them released immediately."
The knights salute you and let your men go. You order them to go back to the encampment and get some rest. You beckon Benedictus to follow you. He is still carrying your banner. Good man. You should see about him getting a raise.
The guards at the pavilion let the two of you enter, saluting stiffly.
Inside, you see a variety of characters. You recognize the king, Isiden Perenolde sitting in a chair, and the Gilnean, Godfrey standing over him like a hawk.
To your surprise, you spy Uther the Lightbringer there as well, the grizzled paladin a towering presence with his book and hammer.
Othmar Garithos is there as well, looking smugly at you through his hilariously bushy mustache.
You bow to the king, and nod at Uther. He nods back. Good, so far he treats you as a respected knight.
"So, here we are at last. The man of the hour. Lord Anlec Falconcrest." The king's voice is regal and completely calm. To the gilnean's credit, they had groomed Isiden to sound like a king. He was quite popular too, among the people. However a roguish charm and those pretty boy looks would only go so far.
"I have heard wonderful, terrifying tales about you, lord falconcrest. Lord Uther and Lady Modera name you to be a peerless warrior and an excellent general. I know that you make the most heartfelt speeches, and Lord Garithos says that you are a rabble rouser and warmonger. What say you to that?"
>write in
>roll 3d6+1 cunning check.
Rolled 5, 2, 5 + 1 = 13 (3d6 + 1)
That he's a war mongering fucking idiot. He only has a warrant to police until we cannot protect ourselves. My men were doing just that.