Felhammer
   
   World of Warcraft  :
  Neophytes of the Argent Dawn    

You stand as initiates within the esteemed ranks of the Argent Dawn, guardians pledged to safeguard Azeroth. Your purpose is noble, your resolve unwavering, poised to confront any adversity that threatens the realm. You are apprentices to heroism, poised to ascend. Together with your stalwart comrades, you embark on a quest for harmony in Silverpine Forest, where you are charged with the establishment of a modest Argent Dawn Chapel. Your mission: to track down the remnants of the Scourge who once plagued the Eastern Plaguelands, now lurking in the shadows of this ancient woodland...

Armed with determination and bound by duty, you march forth, ready to inscribe your name in the annals of the Argent Dawn's valorous history.

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Selected from Azeroth's finest, bravest, and brightest, you are the newest cadre of promising initiates welcomed into the ranks of the Argent Dawn. Under the tutelage of Lieutenant Rukag, a formidable orc warrior, you underwent rigorous training at a military camp nestled a few miles from the Ruins of Lordaeron. After months of both physical and mental conditioning, Lieutenant Rukag judged you all worthy to embark on your inaugural mission.

Rumors have begun to swirl from Silverpine Forest, whispering of undead, necromancers, and the presence of Naga, pirates - and even - a dragon! The Dark Lady's forces are spread thin, preoccupied with conflicts in Ashenvale and Hillsbrad. Neither the Horde nor the Alliance can spare resources to investigate further. Recognizing the gravity of the situation, Sergeant Houser of Undercity officially petitioned the Argent Dawn for aid in uncovering the truth behind these unsettling reports.

Lieutenant Rukag agreed to dispatch you on this mission, albeit with the condition that an experienced companion join your ranks.   "For this task,"   the burly orc declared,   "I have chosen Thaelrid, a noble Night Elf from Kalimdor's lands. Though stationed in Ashenvale, Thaelrid's journey to the Eastern Kingdoms will span several weeks. Ideally, I would keep you stationed here until his arrival, but these rumors demand immediate action."   Gesturing towards the skeletal donkey equipped with a pack saddle, he continued,   "I've acquired this... peculiar pack animal for your journey. Additionally, I've sealed a missive addressed to High Executor Hadrec in Sepulcher, detailing the Argent Dawn's intent to establish a chapel in Silverpine. Sergeant Houser has generously provided materials for its construction, including timber and stone."  

Rukag handed the sealed letter to one of you before adding,   "The choice of where to establish this new base is yours. Consider carefully, as it will impact future generations."   Chuckling, he nodded towards the donkey and remarked,   "In our latest shipment from Orgrimmar, I managed to procure a keg of Dwarven Mead. Each of you will find a waterskin filled with it."  

With a salute to your party, Lieutenant Rukag bid you farewell, entrusting you with this crucial mission for the Argent Dawn.

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After days of travel, ominous clouds gather and the air thickens with humidity, foretelling an impending storm. Spotting an abandoned farmhouse, the party sees a weathered sign declaring it as Valgan's Field—a once thriving farm now in ruins since the Scourge invasion. As they approach the largest house, they are greeted by an undead figure. His slicked back black hair contrasts with the thick leather strap that secures his jaw to his skull, and his attire—a worn-out flannel shirt and overalls—hints at his former life as a farmer.

  "I am Lionel,"   he introduces himself with a hesitant smile.   "My friends and I welcome you to stay at our new endeavor, Valgan's Inn... well, we hope to make it into an inn... Someday... It is a work-in-progress..."  

The building behind Lionel appears dilapidated, with two other undead figures on the roof busy repairing numerous holes.

  "The third floor won't be suitable for... uh, fleshies like yourselves,"   Lionel stammers awkwardly, then quickly recovers.   "But the ground floor should keep us all dry during the rain. We have alcohol and freshly brewed rat stew, if you're interested."   He gestures warmly, inviting the party inside.


 
 Spoiler: Linked Threads 

Recruitment:  One 

Out of Character:  One 

In Character:  One  
 
Aldhissla
Hresh wasn't sure if the training or the exposure had been more challenging to him.

The hours of study and drills had been grueling at times, but even when at rest he felt exhausted. It was being so far away from his clan, such as it was- being so far away from the cave he'd called home, at least for a time. And it was being under the naked sky. Even on the clearest days he eyed it like it was about to split open with a terrible storm at any moment.  And  it was being around so many other people. For most of his life all he had ever known were other orcs, humans, a handful of half-orcs that both groups looked the other way on, and one time a dwarf at a great distance. But now he had met goblins, gnomes, trolls, bull-people from across the sea, and elves- spirits, how many different kinds of elf  were  there?

At least an envoy from the Earthen Ring had been able to vouch for and ground him somewhat after his arrival among the Argent Dawn.

His newest challenge was getting used to the fact that there were apparently undead who did not want to kill him. It was a strange concept, but not one that he was unwilling to accept. It likely would have been harder, had the Scourge traveled farther south than it did during the War. He just needed time to adjust, just as he had done when he learned that there were humans who didn't want to kill him or lock him up in a camp. Well... perhaps he was still working on that one, too.

When Lieutenant Rukag stood before him and the other trainees, Hresh did his best to stand up straight and look like he was worthy of the task placed upon them. He was reluctant to be the one to accept the letter, partly on account of how covered in dirt and grit his hands were at that moment- earlier that morning he found a quiet spot away from the camp and scooped up a fistful of earth to add to the small clay jar he carried with him everywhere he went. But if no one else took it upon themselves, he'd gingerly tuck it away into his pack.

During the trek he stayed at arm's length from the undead donkey, whom he took to calling Rattlehooves. He seemed to think its proximity interfered with his prayers to some degree, but he didn't pass up the utility of having a pack animal that didn't require feeding or watering. So he just carried on, and muttered in Kalimag a little louder than he normally did. At night around the campfire he opted to take middle watch whenever he could, and on the march he stayed toward the middle of the group as well. He didn't touch the mead, but held onto it in case anyone else was more inclined.

As the bleak, rotted farmlands of Lordaeron gradually gave way to the misty forests of Silverpine, the orc was strangely grateful for it. The trees, however old and gnarled and vaguely sinister, helped to break up the sky somewhat.

And then came the impending storm.

---

The electricity that tinges the air fills Hresh with hesitation. The anxious glances skyward come back. He clutches one of the many bits of bone adorning his clothing. He is, strangely, the first to approve of the idea to stay at the former farmstead, even if the would-be innkeeper with hair like an oil slick doesn't inspire confidence in the orc.

  "Thank you, kind one. How... long have you all been here?"   He begins, haltingly, eyeing the ruined fields.   "Were you expecting visitors? I did not think your kind still, ah... ate."   He makes a vague gesture to his own abdomen before realizing that might have come off as rude.

 
 Spoiler: Hresh Bleedingcrag 
  Hresh Bleedingcrag  
 HP  10/10,  AC  15,  Touch  11,  FF  14,  Fort  +4,  Ref  +1,  Will  +4
 Init  +1,  To-Hit (Melee)  +2,  To-Hit (Ranged)  +1,  Spell Slots:  3/2+1
 Str  14,  Agi  13,  Sta  14,  Int  10,  Spi  14,  Cha  8
 
SCARY WIZARD
On a day like any other in Southshore, Scalesa had acumultaed enough money to sail South.  Then, she overheard an adventurer talking about an "Argent Dawn".  After a brief conversation, she decided to buy adventuring supplies -- and food for her short-eared owl familiar, Orbit Hoo -- instead and accompany this adventurer.

 The training was intense, but every time she began to waver or err, she reminded herself of two things: That even the least she could do with these folk would give the Scourge that much less of a foothold; and that she would join the ranks of the half-elves people ridiculed... At the end of the day, she found herself "among the chosen", and was proud.

 As Scalesa travelled along with others of her caliber... and, Orbit Hoo, she turned up her nose at the sights.   Familiar paths were much as she remembered them, yet... alien, wisted.  The owl alerted her to anything suspicious on the road, though that did little to help... There was an undead entity in her presence.  Perhaps the hardest part of her training, as pragmatic as she was, involved learning that some of the undead were... not "good"... "tolerable".  "Cooperative".  Once or twice, she found herself stroking between the shambling donkey's ears.  Or, where they were.


 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 Now, she stood at some abandoned farmhouse repurposed into an inn of some sort.  By  the dead .  She does her best to act as if she is taking things in in a casual manner.  Then, she hears "rat stew" mentioned...    "I'll take some of the stew... I'll throw in extra coin if you can spare any meat for her, too."    She gestures to Orbit Hoo.    "Have you had any success in securing or retrofitting other buildings around...  town ?"  
Felhammer
Lionel gestures for the party to head up the path into the building,   "Come, come."   As the group walks together, the undead looks to the Orc and nods, "  We have been here for many months now. We want to make Silverpine inviting, warm, loving... The way it used to be. Before..."   The man furrows his brow and gestures to his undying frame,   "This happened."   

After a few paces, Lionel laughs,   "We do not eat but you fleshies do. We want to turn this abandoned field into a farm once again. Afterall, you need to eat, or else you will become as dead as I look."   The undead tries his best to grin with a strap clamping his jaw down.

As you enter the dilapitated farmhouse, you spy a makeshift tavern table, an assortment of dustry bottles of alcohol and several haphazard tables made from barrels. There are seven tables in total. At the extreme opposite end of the room, sits an orc, a tauren and a darkspear troll. The orc is wearing studded leather armor, dyed black as night. A hood and a bandanna have been pulled down and now rests around his neck.  The Tauren wears dull chain shirt and brown leather pants. She has upward pointing short horns and white fur. The troll has dark-black-blue skin and is wearing not but a loincloth made from hide. He has a tall pink mohawk that stands several feet high.

Your undead host introduces the other party,   "These are our other guests, Roz Tuskblade (the orc), Ayita Whiteseeker (the tauren) and Kal'ra (the troll). They have a fourth companion, a goblin named Pizzazz Hagglesmog but she is..."   

Lionel glances at Roz, then back to Hresh &amp; Scalesa,   "In the, uh, basement... Resting. Long journey and all."  

The Orc looks up and glares at Lionel menacingly, who quickly changes the subject.

The undead nods to Scalesa,   "Yes. Yes. We have much meat. Much yummy, yummy meat. Lots of rats you see. My wife is a bit of a rat charmer. They do so love her. She lives in one of the other farmhouses, breeding the livestock, making them nice and plump. Perfect for pies and stew... How would you like the rats prepared for your little one? Live? Dead? Skinned? Minced? Chopped? Should I only give you good cuts or bad cuts? What is your preference? My unlife is to serve."   

He bows in deference to the newcomer.

  "This is not a town, as such... Not yet. Just this makeshift inn and another farmhouse for some of my companions. Like I said, we want to make this THE destination location for fleshies traveling from Tyrisfall to Sepulcher. My daughter, Ethelda Zayne, and her husband Denton were both trained blacksmiths. Their services were, uhh,"  

Lionel pauses as he glances nervously back at Roz, who does not look up, but you can tell the orc is eavesdropping.

  "The, uh, hmm, uh... Well, uhhh... Down in Sepul.. Cher... Yes, down in Sepulcher! Sepulcher. Maybe you will meet them down there... in Sepulcher... As soon as you arrive. That is to say... Not to be presumptuous... I just assume. It is where most people go these days."   

Lionel exits the conversation and heads behind a flap, to a backroom. You can hear him call out, his voice fading as he heads further away from the party,   " Just g  etting those r  ats y  ou wan  ted ...  
Merilan
It's peculiar that Grima, of all people, were chosen for this task; she wondered if she was just dispensable enough for what sounded like quite a lot, given that she feels she's barely more shaped than when she was a street urchin picking fights.  Regardless, she didn't really want to disappoint the people who'd taken her in... she seems to listen to Lieutenant Rukag, if nothing else.

Still, Grima seems to have a bit of a fascination with the undead donkey -- how unusual!  She wasn't much of a drinker either, but she thought: alcohol can always sweeten lips, or be traded for something else.

But eventually, they arrive at Valgan's Field, and Grima turns her nose up a bit at the conditions.  " Not much left here any longer... "

The undead has her with a nod, and she tilts her head at the mention that it would be an inn.  " ... that sounds pretty good.  I'm rooting for you. "

Rat stew, huh?  " I've eaten worse, " Grima admits, nodding her head to slack her equipment off with a sigh; her shoulders had gotten quite tired.  The large orcish fullblade she sets particularly gently next to her pack.

A number of other guests are here as well -- another party?  " Do you need any help with your... hunting? " Grima questions with a raise of her eyebrow.  But he is gone, leaving Grima to turn towards the party.
InAction
It was a strange path Kazama had taken into a new world - one familiar but still he barely recognized now. When the plague came to the Mossflayer lands and its people, it seemed as though it were the end of everything he knew. Kin fighting amongst themselves, the fallen rising from the dead to attack those that had stricken them down, and those not fortunate enough to have cloistered themselves in their temples and strongholds cast out, as he had been. He had besought the Loa, the ancient spirits that had guided troll-kind for millennia, for answers but they were none. He could not hear their voices while the shadow of death swept across the land, or perhaps they chose not to speak, rather leaving him to his sad fate.

Then in what his darkest hour, the troll found there was a light - the Holy Light! For it was when he sought refuge in a ruined monastery, he discovered the human texts regarding their faith and, miraculously, the words spoke to him. They gave him comfort, hope and resolve, inspiring in him a new faith that he might weather through this nightmare. Not long after was he discovered by agents of the Argent Dawn and with them a place he might heed this new calling.

It had been a period of struggle for him - a forest troll was not one to forgive and forget the transgressions of the past so easily. And that fact was certainly put to the test as he found himself rubbing shoulders with the likes of orcs, dwarves, and even-  Elves!  Still he persisted, finding solace in his studies of holy text and learning to call upon the Light for aid in times of crisis. He was rather eager to prove himself to the likes of his new order and the company he found himself in. He soon would have his chance...

-----

Kazama had been rather on edge for most of this venture thus far. He was of mixed feelings regarding his current party, (particularly the half-elf mage) and he especially did not care to be left at the mercy of the undead. The presence of such unnatural creatures he found rather foul, a grim reminder of how the spectre of death had corrupted so much of these lands. Still, for the sake of what he understood as the greater good, he held his tongue.

When their carriage had come to a stop and they were ushered into the farmhouse, Kaz found his sour mood growing slightly fouler spotting the Horde presence at the table opposite of theirs. He had heard tell of this "new" Horde recently, and while he wasn't sure what to make of them he didn't much care for any Horde. A grudge held over from his forefathers since the Second War and though the Mossflayer tribe played a small part in the short-lived alliance between the orcs and the Amani trolls, still they harbored little love for their former allies. As he sat down with his compatriots, he kept an eye trained upon them, particularly the jungle troll among their group.

  "Suppose we should be thankful,"   Kazama commented,   "it be nothing short of a miracle that there be any tasty morsel worth having in this blighted land..."  
Aldhissla
The longer they spend in that rotting inn-to-be, the more the hairs on the back of Hresh's neck begin to stand on end. From the smarm in the proprietor's voice to the unfriendly faces across the room from them to the rambling details about rat meat (which he otherwise considers a staple of his childhood down in the mines), something is...  off . By the time their host is leaving the room, his eyes have narrowed and his hand is gingerly resting on the wrist of the wolf-claw gauntlet hanging from his waist. He waits until Lionel has traveled down out of earshot to get the stew, then awkwardly glances back and forth between his own party and the quiet one already seated.   "This feels... hrm."   He raises a finger as if to say something to Scalesa and then to Grima, but his words fail him and he ends up chewing the inside of his cheek for a few moments in thought instead. He does still incline his head slightly at Kazama. The priest has a point, even if Hresh's enthusiasm has quickly declined.

Finally, Hresh shuffles closer to the trio, and looks to the orc named Roz in particular, hoping he might react better to a fellow orc. The shaman clears his throat and speaks up in as polite a voice as he can muster, speaking in Orcish accented slightly by the area where he was interred.

  "L-Lok'tar. I wish we could meet under nicer weather. I am..."   He trails off for a moment, then shakes his head quickly.   "I am Hresh Bleedingcrag. Spirits watch over you. Have you been here long? What do you make of... any of this?"   He gestures to the stale dining room all around them. He looks between them to see if they have partaken of the rat stew at all yet.

 
 Spoiler: Rolls 
Hresh attempts to  Sense Motive  on Lionel to detect anything suspicious about him.  (1d20+2)[ 16 ] 
Hresh attempts  Diplomacy  to get some info on the place out of the other living trio.  (1d20-1)[ 2 ] 
 

 
 Spoiler: Hresh Bleedingcrag 
  Hresh Bleedingcrag  
 HP  10/10,  AC  15,  Touch  11,  FF  14,  Fort  +4,  Ref  +1,  Will  +4
 Init  +1,  To-Hit (Melee)  +2,  To-Hit (Ranged)  +1,  Spell Slots:  3/2+1
 Str  14,  Agi  13,  Sta  14,  Int  10,  Spi  14,  Cha  8
 
SCARY WIZARD
Scalesa says, without missing a beat,   "    I'll take lower body meats; she likes the joints.  ...if you could give us any fried skins, I'll pay extra."   She then looks from companion-to-companion, and says,   "Does anyone else want any?  I'm buying."  

 Despite the mage's enthusiasm for off-putting fare, she  is  taking stock of things between the Forsaken man's glances.  But... could he  sense  this?  She sniffs as if to hide her trepidation.
Merilan
Grima quietly keeps an eye on Hresh as he greets the other party, just out of caution for if things turn out sour for any reason.  There is a faint nod in turn to Kazama, as she admits, " I thought it would just be our trail rations and hardtack for the foreseeable future. "  A raise of the eybrow as Scalesa mentions her penchant for the rodent.  " Have you had it before?  What's it like? "
SCARY WIZARD
 "They're nutty, kind of sweet, if fed right   .  The meat's like... like  dark chicken meat  -- or rabbit -- in texture."   She then looks from companion-to-companion, and says,   "One of my mentors had me catch them for her, to appease the people where we lived -- and for her spell fixings.  I didn't want to  waste  the rest of them, though, so I made a stew.  She warned me that they won't always taste so good, and that most of the ones you find in the wild are scavengers and can make you sick.  Farm-raised ones like we'll be eating... I feel like they'll be  just fine ."  

 Orbit Hoo seems enthralled by this accounting of things.  Scalesa points at her with her thumb.    "Little Miss Impulse Control Issues, here, though... I've had to call her off of familiars that took rabbit and rat shape.  And pets."   The owl makes a noise that might be some sort of an avian scoffing.
Felhammer
The big orc looks Hresh up and down, then motions for him to sit at the table.

  "I do not like it here,"   Roz bluntly states.   "The air is foul. The walls are rotting. The ground is... Moist. This alcohol, is..."  

The troll pipes in,   "Palatable, mon."  

Tuskblade grunts in agreement.

Kal'ra, the Troll, turns towards Kazama and asks,   "What you be doin' here mon? This place full of bad juju."  

Ayita Whiteseeker is about to speak but she is interrupted by the return of Lionel,  " Mu  ch me  rrim  ent f  or all !  Much merriment for all! " 

The man returns to the common room bearing two serving trays covered with bowls of rat stew &amp; rat pies, as well as a large platter covered in the back halves of rats that have been fried, as well as the fried skins of the front halves.

Suddenly!

   A THUNDEROUS ROAR    booms from high above. It rattles and shakes the dilapidated building. Lionel ducks beneath one of the tables.

The three members of the other party reflexively grab their weapons and look ready to charge the door.

Lionel pushes out his hands from under the table and quietly begs,    "NO! No, no. Stay quiet. Stay silent. It will pass."   

The roars grow fainter and fainter after a few heartbeats.

  "They say a dragon has taken up residence on the eastern coast. I have not seen it. Only heard it. I dare not investigate... I petitioned some people at Undercity for aid but they told me I was lying."  

The undead straightens up dusts himself off and declares,   "Free drinks on the house for my wonderful guests!"
  

The other party relaxes and begins eating and drinking.

 
 Spoiler: Hresh 
You notice the orc is subtly keeping an eye on the door. He wants to go outside but remains seated.
 
Merilan
" That sounds like a treat compared to some of the things we have to dine on the road, " Grima is honest to Scalesa in turn.  Spells, though, using rats?  She's never had an aptitude for magic, so she's never learnt what kind of things those who use the arcane magics do to practice their art.

But the roar soon disrupts the relative peace of the place, and Grima leaps to grab her fullblade and, much like everyone else, ready to charge the door when Lionel entreats calm to the inn patrons.

" A-- dragon? " Grima looks herself surprised.  " Well, you seem to have no end of your share of troubles here, friend. "
InAction
When approached by Kal'ra, Kazama silently bit his tongue. The Darkspear tribe were known even by the Mossflayer, though not regarded very well due to their longstanding rivalry with their Amani cousins. And that was before they were said to have joined the Horde. Still though, it'd been some time since he'd encountered a member of trollkind, let alone spoken with one. Fighting down his slight distaste, he answered them,   "I have no clear answers for you, cousin. I be following a new calling and it has led me here, so here I be ready to serve. However it be deemed necessary by the L-"  

Before he could make any mention of his new faith, their proprietor had returned with their very humble offerings. And shortly then came the deafening roar and rumble that shook the ramshackle hut to its foundations. Much like everyone else, Kazama grabbed for his staff in preparation for an attack before Lionel protested otherwise and the thundering slowly subsided.

Kazama still held his grip upon his staff, though it would gradually loosen when he was sure the danger had passed. He eventually sat back down at the table with his party, though he looked rather ill-at-ease.   "A dragon- here? Now? For what reason would a dragon have in these plague-ridden lands?"  
SCARY WIZARD
Scalesa puts some joints to the side for Orbit Hoo.    "There you are, sweetie..."    She then begins on her skins, and her hips, not long before being jarred by the roar.     "Antonidas' Ghost!  A  dragon , here?  I thought... Well, I don't know what I thought."    She picks a little bit of skin out of her teeth, and then puts it back in her mouth.    "I suppose it'll only be a matter of time before their intentions become known to us."  
Aldhissla
Hresh blinks in surprise as the other orc offers him a spot at the table rather than a mug to the face or something else more expected. He slides a seat out and perches upon its edge, his kilt pulled up slightly so that the hem doesn't drag upon the less-than-immaculate floor beneath their feet. He doesn't quite sit  at  the table, however- he hovers about a foot away from it, as if trying to give the strangers some polite distance even after accepting the invitation. His head whips up and down in quick little nods along with what Roz says, more to acknowledge him than to agree- although he would agree on the smell and dampness.

  "Are you bound for this Sepulcher? It sounds like the most important settlement in the whole forest."   Not that that's a particularly high bar to pass.

Lionel's return caused that slight, hesitant wince to reappear on Hresh's face. He half-turns to watch the undead man return with those platters of rat meat in so many different configurations. At least the rat rump roasts with the tails still attached look identifiably rodent, unlike the bowls and pies that he just can't bring himself to take a chance on. He isn't sure what he thinks they could be, only that they bring to mind his uncle Grort's mystery meat kebabs back home. Hresh is lifting his serving of rat up by the base of the tail and inspecting it as that booming roar makes the room shake and rattle like an earthquake. He doesn't dive straight under a table like their dear host, but he does drop to one knee and brandish his claw in alarm.

When the sound recedes and everything settles, the shaman sits back up and looks around, frazzled. The only thing worse than a big, empty sky is a sky full of big  things .

  "The rumor about the dragon is  real?  Do you know of anyone who has seen it?"   His mind rushes with thoughts about size, age, and scale color. He knows those are important when it comes to dragons; he doesn't know what they  mean , but he knows they're important to figuring them out.   "... I will take water, thank you."   He says with a sigh, looking back down at his half a rat.

 
 Spoiler: Hresh Bleedingcrag 
  Hresh Bleedingcrag  
 HP  10/10,  AC  15,  Touch  11,  FF  14,  Fort  +4,  Ref  +1,  Will  +4
 Init  +1,  To-Hit (Melee)  +2,  To-Hit (Ranged)  +1,  Spell Slots:  3/2+1
 Str  14,  Agi  13,  Sta  14,  Int  10,  Spi  14,  Cha  8
 
Felhammer
"  Yes, the dragon has been heard a few times. Well, I assume it is a dragon. It sounded like what I imagine a dragon sounds like..."   opines Lionel as he pours some water for Hresh.   "Why it is here... I have no idea. I thought dragons liked forests or deserts, not human land..."   The man pauses, catching himself. He shakes his head softly then says,   "I mean Forsaken lands."   
  "My niece says she spotted it in the air a week or so ago. Might be the flight of fancy for someone so young... I am not sure where she is, out playing, I suppose."  


The tauren, Ayita Whiteseeker, chimes in,   "I heard many live in Ferlas. That land is very forested. Almost like a jungle. Especially compared to Mulgore, where nary a tree can be spotted."   
  "Aye, mon,"   laughs the troll, "  You do be livin' in da middle o' a sea o' grass. Green as far as da eye can see, which is pretty far, mon, because there ain't no trees to block ya' line o' sight."   

The orc, Roz, then half whispers,   "I do not like Mulgore. I always feel too... Exposed."   

Turning to Hresh, the orc says, "  We are bound for Seplechre. The leader of the town to sign off on a contract with our boss."  
  "She be wantin' to explore for Tanaris Tea. Thinks she can sell it to da Warchief for big ole' heaps o' gold."   The troll pantomimes with his hands implying a very large sum.

  "If she ever wakes up,"   chuckles Roz.

As if almost on queue, a female goblin comes stumbling down the stairs. Still sleepy and hardly awake, she yawns mightily before her eyes bolt wide when she spots the newcomers.   "Hey, who are  YOU ? What are you doin' down in  Silverpine ? I'll ave you know,  competition  is unsportsmanlike and highly discouraged!"    She throws down her pack. She practically sticks her whole head into the pack as she rifles through it. After a few moments, she pulls out an oversized pistol that cackles with lightning and proclaims,   "Ah, the great electric equalizer! I know how to use this and I ain't afraid to zap my competition!"  
 
 Spoiler: Tanaris Tea 
Everyone would know Tanaris Tea is a common turn of phrase for oil.
 
Merilan
Grima listens in on the conversation about the dragon, but she has no particular thoughts to add -- surely, it is odd that a dragon dwells in such a blasted land as where they are, given that it is still a living creature that needs to feed and everything... unless?

" It's not possible for dragons to become... undead too, is it? " Grima muses, but shrugs quietly, shaking off the thought.  Undead or not, it doesn't change that there's a dragon there.

But the goblin arrives down the stairs and suddenly takes a tone with them.  Grima's eyebrows raise quite a bit, looking unimpressed.  " This is the fourth you were talking about earlier, one... Pizzazz, I thin Lionel said? "
SCARY WIZARD
Scalesa nods at Grima.   "I've seen a lot of things that were turned.  When Dalaran...    ."   Her eyes seem to drift in its direction, and then back to her companions.    "There were more things than just shapes of men and beasts I saw marching towards her that day.  There was the odd flying thing; I had heard of gargoyles being used by them, but some of them  could have  been dragons?  I didn't get close enough to look.    "  

 To Pizazz's theatrics, she merely sighs and rolls her eyes.   "Oh,  put that thing down  and save it for the dragon outside if they decide to do anything other than call for a hot date.  The only competition you'll find from  us  is over these rat skins, and maybe a dipping sauce if there is any."  Orbit Hoo slowly nibbles on a joint, making sure to turn it in her mouth while looking disapprovingly at Pizzazz.


 Out of Character - Actions 
 
 Spoiler 
  Diplomacy:   (1d20+1)[ 15 ] 
 
Aldhissla
  "Not safe..."   Hresh mutters to himself at all the dragon business and rubs at the back of his neck, trying to get the hairs there to finally lay down flat again.   "Not safe."  

He nods to Roz when he mentions how they're all bound for the Sepulcher, but then his nod is caught midway and his head tilts to one side. It takes him several moments to realize what is meant by "Tanaris Tea", the only kinds of oil he's personally familiar with being whatever one can render out of a bucket of plant matter or animal fat. But he comes around on it, just in time to spin around when the newcomer enters the common area.

The orc's eyebrows rise up in surprise to see the goblin standing there. He mentally apologizes for ever wondering that the "rat" being served might have been guests unaccounted for. He's glad no one is dead... at least not yet, he realizes in alarm as she comes back up from her comical backpack rifling brandishing that crackling gun.

  "U-Unless you are on your way to go consecrate a new holy site, I don't th-think we have the same object in mind..."   He says, palms raised slightly.

 
 Spoiler: Hresh Bleedingcrag 
  Hresh Bleedingcrag  
 HP  10/10,  AC  15,  Touch  11,  FF  14,  Fort  +4,  Ref  +1,  Will  +4
 Init  +1,  To-Hit (Melee)  +2,  To-Hit (Ranged)  +1,  Spell Slots:  3/2+1
 Str  14,  Agi  13,  Sta  14,  Int  10,  Spi  14,  Cha  8
 
InAction
Kazama gives a look to Grima before his gaze drops at the rat carcass on his plate. He picked at the body a moment as he spoke, his tone becoming rather somber and grave,   "I don't rightly know, but... My kind, dey thought themselves safe from da plague as it only took human lives. Dey saw themselves as invincible. Still, my home- my people- fell to corruption from within. From what I be seeing, dis death curse be affecting any living thing dat draws breath. I don't be knowing much about dragons, but still dey breathe, no?"  

When hearing from the Horde party their business at the Seplucher for 'Tanaris Tea' and seeing their boss make a belated entrance, the pieces clicked into place for the troll. He knew of goblins at least by reputation and accounts of veterans from the Second War; unscrupulous profiteers the lot of them. It didn't surprise him to see this one immediately jumping to making threats. Still he supposed he must do what he can to help aid his order mates in diffusing this matter peaceably. He approached Pizzazz to stand beside Scalesa and said,   "My comrades be right. We be but novices on an errand for our order. We be having no quarrel wit'cha, and if ya want it to stay dat way den I humbly suggest we leave each other be. It be bad for business to start up trouble, yes?"  
 Out of Character - Actions 
 
 Spoiler 
 Diplomacy:   (1d20+3)[ 12 ] 
 