xxxiii - Backdate to yesterday. FINALLY GOT SOMETHING UP :C
I haven't slept in three days and we still lost Hearthglen. I don't know what got to my reinforcements; probably the undead. They're ... everywhere. I think I'm seeing them when I shut my eyes now, which, as you can imagine, is just so fun.
[The camera is at an odd angle - the man speaking isn't really bothering to talk into it.
He's a paladin, for anyone that would recognize the characteristic warhammer and gold-and-blue armor. For most of the barge, though, the impression is of a young man, alive, blond, blue-eyed, and spattered head to toe in red and black blood.]
They're - openly taunting me. The Scourge. I finally got my hands around the neck of the bastard responsible for the massacre at Brill. He was laughing. Called me a naive little fool. I smashed his head in. I refuse to regret it. I'd suspect this is more of the same, but it's frankly too incompetent to be their doing. I know that much.
[Behind him in the hallway is the remains of a door, crumpled like a soda can against the opposite wall. The hammer is still smoking. Might want to replace that before he changes back.]
We're two steps behind anything they do, and those two are the difference between arriving in time to evacuate people and walking into a nest of the infected. The Menethil dynasty's been able to keep this country running for four hundred years. I'll be damned if I'm going to be the one that sees it all come crashing down because I wasn't strong enough to keep someone from walking in and taking away my people.
[He's upset, so he starts moving, headed for the door to the stairwell. There has to be a roof on this place. ]
You're probably not even in a position to understand the lengths I would go to in order to stop this right now, so I'm going to make it simple for you. Put someone on the screen that can get me home right now, or not only will you have about five million deaths on your hands-
[The figure surprises even him; there's a short bark of laughter.]
- I'll probably kill you myself.
(((OOC: LET'S PLAY WARCRAFT III!))
[The camera is at an odd angle - the man speaking isn't really bothering to talk into it.
He's a paladin, for anyone that would recognize the characteristic warhammer and gold-and-blue armor. For most of the barge, though, the impression is of a young man, alive, blond, blue-eyed, and spattered head to toe in red and black blood.]
They're - openly taunting me. The Scourge. I finally got my hands around the neck of the bastard responsible for the massacre at Brill. He was laughing. Called me a naive little fool. I smashed his head in. I refuse to regret it. I'd suspect this is more of the same, but it's frankly too incompetent to be their doing. I know that much.
[Behind him in the hallway is the remains of a door, crumpled like a soda can against the opposite wall. The hammer is still smoking. Might want to replace that before he changes back.]
We're two steps behind anything they do, and those two are the difference between arriving in time to evacuate people and walking into a nest of the infected. The Menethil dynasty's been able to keep this country running for four hundred years. I'll be damned if I'm going to be the one that sees it all come crashing down because I wasn't strong enough to keep someone from walking in and taking away my people.
[He's upset, so he starts moving, headed for the door to the stairwell. There has to be a roof on this place. ]
You're probably not even in a position to understand the lengths I would go to in order to stop this right now, so I'm going to make it simple for you. Put someone on the screen that can get me home right now, or not only will you have about five million deaths on your hands-
[The figure surprises even him; there's a short bark of laughter.]
- I'll probably kill you myself.
(((OOC: LET'S PLAY WARCRAFT III!))