The Lantern in the Dark – Volume 15 – September 17, Year 27

Farmer’s Almanac, Year 27

Dear readers, both gentle and brutal,

After a long, hot, and excessively eventful summer, it would seem we are collectively bound for a gloomy, cold, and even more eventful autumn. Fear not, however, your faithful servant Lady Lytfeather does not come to write of the ill tidings of grander world events but the often smaller troubles and tribulations, scandals and stories that have already affected those among us. Gossip is, after all, good for the soul.

Let us speak first of cold-blooded murder! Early after the Solstice, many regular attendees of the Topsy Titan were delighted to make the acquaintance of a young and charismatic gnome mage by the name of Zephonai Sparkletails. One of the many apparent orphans of Gnomeregan, the enterprising and determined Zephonai lived in the Deep Run Tram for a time while attending the Mage Tower to develop her magical skills, before being taken in and guarded by members of the Fires of Elune guild. Unfortunately, it seems that they were all deceived, as their good intentions to care for the young orphan was turned on their heads one fateful evening in Darnassus, whereby some primordial horrific force, Zephonai’s life was sacrificed to resurrect some Priestess of Elune through space and time for suspect reasons. Why this life was considered more valuable than a parentless and talented child’s is beyond this author’s comprehension, but these are the times we live in, one supposes.

Continuing the thread of horrific sacrifices and deceptions, it is my great sorrow to report that Mico Stormsparrow—a hero previously and frequently appearing in these articles for his many great contributions to society—has most unfortunately done a heel turn, straight into the seductive embrace of the Void. Beyond a vicious assault on his younger brother, Benjamin—which temporarily blinded and paralyzed the latter—and allying with notorious serial killler Mavanda the Mad, how this once great and inspiring hero has turned villain is too long a tale to tell in this column alone. All should be advised to avoid contact in case of sighting. Rumors circulate that the Covenant of Dusk plans a control action against him, as does Team DEAD END, now under the direction of his ex-wife Caena Seastar. To see this man’s tragic tale heading toward such an ignominious end breaks this author’s heart, but again, these are the times we live in.

Speaking of love gone wrong, three recent tales of romantic woes have come to me. One involves rising star of the stage, Takara Zuka, and her Romeo and Juliette co-star, Scarlet Alexander. While no one who viewed the play could deny the chemistry between the two on stage, few were aware of the truth behind the scenes, where it’s rumored the pair were spotted on more than one occasion taking opportunities to rehearse their methods together. Sadly, it seems that Ms. Alexander did not survive the recent rash of Scourge incursions, bringing an early end to both a blossoming romance and a promising theatrical career. No less dramatic is the sound rejection received by one drunk and rakish wizard known as Halonse Gracehammer by the new owner of the Tipsy Titan, Lady Marianna Daris. For the report that has reached me, it seems they were once an item, then they weren’t, and the man didn’t wait a just amount of time to find another after he believed his beloved to be dead and gone. Apparently, this remains his pattern and the Lady Daris was wise to put him off despite his professions of continued love. Actions speak louder than words, perhaps especially in matters of the heart. The final installment in this star-crossed triptych is a whirlwind courtship that appears to have faded as quickly into the ether as it formed. I speak of course of the flash in the pan between Nathaniel “Skelly” Brossard and Lady Cinara Lockstone. From their first encounter to engaged in under a month, and from engaged to disengaged in half that again, what seemed at first to be a promising tale of “opposites attract” proved to be little more than oil and water. The Lady of Lockstone has since largely removed herself from Stormwind to spend time with her family in the Alterac Mountains.

In the course of her retreat from Stormwind society, Lady Cinara appears to have also stolen at least two of the city’s prominent civil servants. Detective Benjamin Stormsparrow, recovered from the injuries inflicted by his villainous brother, has been recruited as her Knight Commander, and the city’s Exchequer, Sofia Featherspring, has also been enlisted into the House’s service, resigning her position under far more mysterious parameters. This leaves open an elected seat on the City Council, one which is rumored to soon be filled by former Justicar candidate Æthelthryth Greenheart. Featherspring and Greenheart were overheard speaking about the matter recently outside the Blue Recluse and the latter exhibited considerable enthusiasm for the prospect. This author wishes the incoming Exchequer all the best of luck in dealing with the city and kingdom’s finances in the coming months and years. Worryingly, there may be another vacancy on the City Council soon. Dr. Vitalyia Reznikov, Councilor for Dwarven District, is rumored to have fallen gravely ill with a mysterious affliction. Her clinics in Ironforge and Dwarven District have been shuttered for weeks and no one has seen or heard from the Doctor. No clues as to the nature of the malady have been uncovered, and no one has had communication with the good Doctor. What will become of her seat is as yet undetermined. Another notable retirement from service is that of famed paladin Aedam Edinson as Lord Commander of the Guardians faction of the Covenant of Dusk. He has been replaced by Thóra Lindborg, an enigmatic warrior from Northrend who seems more than capable of leading fighters against world-class threats.

A final note, dear readers, skirting the edge of such ideas as world-class threats, is the news—though perhaps at this point, it is not so much news but a regular occurrence—that Warden Kelidor Rainwood of the Cenarion Circle has been severely injured yet again in a fight. He and Councilor Nhenia Duskseeker were recently seen escorting a young Kaldorei girl and a bounty huntress by force through the city to the harbor during a Scourge attack. Both Warden and Councilor received grievous wounds and are said to be recovering, undoubtedly until the next daring escapade.

With that, esteemed readers, I must leave you. Bones are rattling at my window and I must deliver this article to my editor. Farewell and good luck to one and all. May we all see these days through.

Warm regards,
Lady Lytfeather

Lifestyle (or Deathstyle)

Craze of Darkness: A Tale of the Scourge in Stormwind

By Aetoss Broadshield

Stormwind.  To travelers it represents the seat of humanity’s power but it is also an unspoken symbol of loss – for to the north there was once an even grander city, a city called Lordaeron…

As he had done many times after adventuring, Aetoss Broadshield trudged tiredly to the auction house to sell the various objects of interest he had found that day.  But this day was different.  He was speaking to the auctioneer, carefully appraising the price of a piece of armor when suddenly screams and snarls erupted around him.  Clouds of green smoke blinded and choked the room.  The paladin escaped to the open air so he could see what was happening.  Undead ghouls were lashing and biting every living thing in their path.

            Aetoss was familiar with the undead and had slain many ghouls in his travels but there was something peculiar about these creatures.  These ghouls moved with their characteristic frenzied brutality, but also with a sense of calculated purpose.  However, the fight was over as quickly as it had begun, the ghouls collapsing in a pile on the floor.  The room’s occupants tried to make sense of what had happened in the flash of violence, and several were badly injured.  One of the people caught in the fight approached and asked for aid.  Aetoss recognized him as Sir Lorathane, a superior officer of Stormwind.  Lorathane was emitting a strange green glow.  The paladin called upon the Light to cleanse the corruption, but it seemed to have no effect.

            His mind raced.  Why isn’t the Light curing him?  Where did the ghouls come from?  How did they get into Stormwind without the guards knowing?  Was it coincidence that the ghouls attacked an optimally populated and vulnerable building?  Surely this is not a strategy, I’ve never heard of a ghoul who…

            As he questioned the possibilities he felt his arm pulse with pain and he removed his gauntlet to inspect the source.  It was a small green gash near his elbow—he must have been injured in the chaos without realizing it.  The cut had the same smell of decay as the ghoul’s corpses and he noticed a green haze slowly seeping out of the wound.

            No.  It can’t be…

            Aetoss fled to the road behind the auction house to collect himself.  Depictions of the Culling of Stratholme from the scrolls he read during his training intruded on his mind.  As he became overwhelmed with the grizzly ramifications, he felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped.

            “Aetoss, we must get out of here! I know people who can help us.”  It was Lorathane.  Aetoss was about to ask for clarification, but Lorathane had already began to run, yelling, “Follow me!”

            The two ran hurriedly across the city until they arrived at a tavern in the Dwarven District.  A shadow of foreboding crossed Aetoss’ mind but was quickly dismissed – this was not the time to become paralyzed by indecision.  The barkeep didn’t look up as he and Lorathane walked past him to the kitchen.  He felt relieved to see a small group of people in robes—surely this was some secret order of healers.

            “Thank the Light!  Something terrible happened at the auction house – a swarm of ghouls appeared out of nowhere and…”  He stopped, his eyes regaining clarity after the adrenaline-filled escape.  The group emanated the same green glow that was quickly encompassing his own body.

            “They’re all infected!  Sir Lorathane, what’s going on here!?”

            Aetoss turned to see Lorathane standing in the doorway with his weapon drawn.

            “You’re not leaving…alive,” Lorathane smirked.

 

            Aetoss struggled for words.  He had never spoken of it, but during the days of his training he had looked up to Lorathane, who gained a reputation for his power in combat.  The idolization he once held crumbled like plaster.

            “What have you done?!”  Aetoss asked, shuddering as if with a sudden chill.

            “To the basement, now.”  Lorathane commanded.

            Aetoss knew he stood no chance in a fight against Lorathane, who had far more experience in battle than himself, so he reluctantly started down the stairs.

            “How can you do this?  You’re a superior officer of Stormwind!  How could you betray all you stood…”

            “You’ll see.  You’ll all understand soon,” Lorathane laughed.

            As the paladin reached the bottom of the stairs he saw several other people, all of whom bore the same signs of infection.  They looked up in silence, hope having left their eyes in consignment to their fate.  Over the course of a few minutes some of them collapsed and began snarling.  Whatever was happening, it was getting worse.

            A new sensation began to surge through him – at first he felt fear, but it quickly transformed to exhilaration.  He began to chuckle to himself, his voice becoming increasingly rough.  Words and meaning left his mind, replaced by frenzied hunger.  He felt compelled by an unseen force and was eager to fulfill its directive, especially if it meant he got to feed.  He had become one with the scourge.

            The swarm of ghouls moved quickly in tactical unison as they ran outside and started infecting key locations in the city.  A ghoul alone was weak, but together they were strong.  Even the powerful town guards fell to the combined ferocity of the swarm.  Aetoss the Ghoul felt a rush like he had never experienced.  He couldn’t stop moving; he didn’t want to.  Each target became the only thing in his mind.  His focus was like a magnifying glass set upon a single point and he wanted to see the world burn in its ray.

            The town guards kept fighting the swarm, with heavy losses on both sides.  Aetoss caught a swing from one of their swords and his carcass collapsed to the ground. 

            Darkness, sweet darkness.

            Aetoss awoke as if from a dream.  He looked down at his own hands, his own feet.  He was back in his own body.  But something was different – he outwardly looked the same, but something had changed within himself.  Where there once was a sense of benevolent purpose was now this yawning, insatiable void.  He was divided: one side was repulsed by the darkness he saw and the other side was compelled.  He stood still in grim contemplation before uttering a single word to himself: “More.”

            Somehow, he knew where to go and he knew where the others would be.  The cycle of transformation, exhilaration, destruction, and death repeated itself many times.  Their onslaught brought the plague to the Trade District, the Old Town, the Harbor, and even parts of the Castle.  During the intermittent moments of clarity after death a part of himself questioned what he had become, but his misgivings rapidly submerged beneath the energetic thrill of frenzy.

            Aetoss didn’t know how many times death claimed him that day, but at some point it all stopped.  He was back—not only in form, but also in spirit.  Relief turned to shame.

            What have I done?

            Only the others knew the role he played that dark day.  Many of them went on to live their lives as if nothing happened, psychologically reconciling it as merely a frightful dream.  But Aetoss knew.  He knew that things wouldn’t be the same.  Whatever acts of heroism he would gain renown for, whatever personal experiences of profundity would enrich his perspective – he could not change what happened that day when he succumbed to the craze of darkness.

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Death and Taxes

By: Randrew, merchant and contracted accountant, president for ‘Rights For Death Knights’

‘Tis true, what they say! The risen fallen do dwell among you.

‘Tis also true, what they say – by order of the Crown, we, the greatest heroes of the Alliance, have been accepted back by our former friends and family as allies against the Scourge.

Yea, verily, do we pledge our swords to the cause once more!

…Which is why you lot ought to stop being so mean to us! We want the same things you want. We fight for the same causes you do. The dead live meaningful lives too! … sorta.

When I yet lived my life as a Living Aliver, I was widely regarded as a great hero. “Help me with my taxes, Randrew. Count these beans for me, Randrew. Finish those TPS reports, Randrew. Fudge those numbers, Randrew. Help me wash three thousand coins from the Songhua Estate, Randrew.” (EDITOR’S NOTE: THIS IS A FABRICATION AND A LIE. THE SONGHUA ESTATE DOES NOT LAUNDER MONEY)

I was of importance, Light dammit!

Ever since the moment of my Arising, I’ve been plagued (EDITOR’S NOTE: POOR CHOICE OF WORDS, DOLT! NO PUNS ALLOWED) by scrutinization. “Did we mean to resurrect this one?” The necromancers would ask. “Was he fighting in the shield-wall with those valiant warriors, or hiding behind in the fetal position,” others would ask. “They say the guy raising him was bitten by a rogue ghoul mid—ritual, leaving the full process incomplete and botched,” others had the gall to accuse.

Now I arrive back to my friends, the city I once called home, and I’m labeled a monster…?

I might have pet maggots nestled in my hair, but that doesn’t mean I’m trash!

Who’s the real monster here?

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A Review of the HORRIBLE World’s End Tavern

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The Gift of Death

By: Kirin Tor Archivist Korilex Wilmont

Never before have I seen such brazen hubris as I do now from these walking abominations that call themselves people.

I speak, of course, not of these “Death Knights”, as they love to be called, but of the Alliance magi and sorcerers without the spine to capitalize on what the opportunity these shambling weapons of war bring. I speak of the cowards who claim these “heroes” have a will of their own but won’t take the extra steps to research how to create a spell to break, or modify, to whom their programming dictates their blind allegiance. I speak of the King and the authorities of the Alliance who passed a decree granting citizenship once more to these fiends, and for forbidding any harm come to them from our fellow patriots and innocent citizens. (EDITOR’S NOTE: The Lantern does not condone treasonous statements of any kind! WE ARE NOBLE AND UPSTANDING CITIZENS) I speak of those who would forbid us from delving into the minds and bodies of these fascinating creatures – creatures which could possibly hold the key to our greatest weapon and defense against the Scourge.

These freaks that you all welcome back so willingly were the very ones slaughtering your friends and family. Let them atone for their sins by helping in the best way they can: by offering themselves for study and research, by whatever means necessary, and by contributing to the pursuit of science and knowledge in the aim of defending the ones they once harmed. Only then will the blood on their hands be washed clean.

Entertainment

Down with the Sickness

By Sir Druegar Craghelm

“A blight come farther South — wary of shipments, rats and the like — reports of
shadows in the sky — entire villages sacked and there’s no stopping them! Seek shelter and keep your loved ones close! Light protect us, Elune protect us, Ancestors protect us, mercy on our souls.”

It’s very likely you have heard these calls from the town criers as of late. Many of us did not need the criers to spread these dark tidings, for we have seen it ourselves. But for those of you who may have been away the last few weeks or months, or those who are only just now returning from Outland, I fear these alarms still do not capture the direness of our grave situation at hand.

Mysterious crates started showing up in Booty Bay, then in all the capital cities. Rations, water supplies, even vermin have been confirmed to be infected with the plague. The very plague that is responsible for the rise of the accursed Scourge. The very plague responsible for the crumbling of the once great kingdom of Lordaeron.

Fear ye not! The Argent Dawn has been quick to react, as have other paladins and Lightcallers within the Alliance.

Thanks to the vigilant efforts of the paladins, clerics and priests, and especially the common citizens of the Alliance, we have finally managed to curb the spreading of the plague. Though several cases are still confirmed each day, the rampant infections have been brought to heel.

Still to deal with are the ziggurats that loom over our cities and lands. Band together, brave souls of the Alliance! Band together and push these monsters out of our lands! We will not suffer the same fate as Lordaeron. This dwarf would rather die than see the Scourge take one step closer to victory. And should I fall in battle, I ask that my kin in arms quickly burn and dispose of my body, so that I do not become a weapon or tool of the foul Scourge.

Which brings me to another matter. Many people were able to attend the emergency peace conference held in Shattrath, hosted by the Horde representative Drago, and the Alliance representative Hayli Dawnguard. Matters discussed were: How to properly dispose of the dead after falling in battle to the Scourge, how we will work together in Northrend to take the fight to the Scourge, how will land and resources be handled after the war is over, and if peace is a feasibility at all, even if only temporary. Prominent factions within the Horde such as the Hand of Lordaeron, Redwood Tribes, and the Bulwark showed up en masse, as did several other folks within the Horde. Several members of the Alliance showed up as well, though not as many as the Horde (thankfully peace was upheld throughout the meeting, though sometimes it was only just barely so).

A pamphlet detailing an analysis of our Scourge enemies was distributed. Drago was said to have written up the pamphlets, with Hayli helping to translate them into Common.

Although many within the Horde had their doubts about whether such a temporary peace was possible, one thing was universally agreed upon… we cannot let another Lordaeron happen. We cannot let the Scourge win. The Lich King will stop at nothing until we were wiped from these lands.

Together, we bring the fight to him and his army of the damned. Together we sail for Northrend and lay to rest those souls who suffer and linger. Together, we will save Azeroth.

“We will have Justice, as well as Vengeance.”

Drago Valhar

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Dalaran calling to the faraway towns
Now war is declared and battle come down
Dalaran calling to the underworld
Come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls
Dalaran calling, now don’t look to us
Scarlet Crusade has bitten the dust

Dalaran calling, see we ain’t got no swing
Except for the ring of the truncheon thing

The ice age is coming, the sun’s zooming in
Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin
Airships stop running, but I have no fear
‘Cause Dalaran is flying
I live by the zephyr!

Dalaran calling to the imitation zone
Forget it, brother, you can go it alone
Dalaran calling to the zombies of death
Quit holding out and draw another breath
Dalaran calling and I don’t want to shout
But while we were talking, I saw you nodding out
Dalaran calling, see we ain’t got no high
Except for that one with the blue eye

The ice age is coming, the sun’s zooming in
Engines stop running, the wheat is growing thin
A warcraft era, but I have no fear
‘Cause Dalaran is flying
I, I live by the zephyr!

Steve the Knife

Year 1, April – Year 27, September

Steve “the Knife” Pickens, was a local gangster and rancher in Westfall. His ranch was destroyed by an incursion of Scourge. He is survived by his partner John White.

“The world is gray.

The sun over Stormwind no longer shines like before.

The dim murmur of the marketplace.

Your deafening silence.

Lost in the crowd, I see another other’s eyes.

But your, eyes I will see no more.”

Hyperborea Thule

Year 6, May – Year 27, September

Hyperborea, a former servant and adventurer passed away during the fight against the Scourge. She was loved by her co-workers and her friends. She is survived by her partner – Cameron Wilkins.

“My love, Hyperborea. Your lot in life was not fair. But how you rose from your station. How far you came from your beginnings – it is an inspiration to us all. May you know peace in the next life.”