Bright_Ops

Age of Darkness: Despair of the Golden Goddess (LoZ RP)

@Dark Cloud

There was a moment when Grindan considered just stepping forward and swinging the axe down on the first of the undead fools that were crawling out of the ground... but as it became clear what their numbers actually were he changed his mind. Despite the size difference, wild Stalphos... weren't as dangerous as common knowledge would paint them as. A child with an old, dull piece of metal could down such creatures without much in the way of issue. Wild Stalphos relied more on numbers, surprise and terrifying their prey into not fighting back properly or attempting to flee rather then fight.

As such, Grindan calmly slammed the bottom of the shaft of his axe into the dirt and leaned his axe towards one of his nearby solders, simply saying "Hold this." Once the axe was securely held by the armored Stalphos, Grindan strode forward with murderous intent.

Wild Stalphos weren't exactly...intelligent. They were more animal then anything. Smart enough to understand that having one of their prey closing the distance with them wasn't how this situation was meant to be going, but stupid enough not to have the survival instincts to withdraw and try again later with something that wasn't a threat to them.

The first one to get within melee range of Grindan took a swing at him with their fearsome claw... only for the swipe to be intercepted and stopped dead as Grindan's hand lashed out and grabbed the creatures lower forearm (he would say wrist, but it was a little lower then that due to... well, the lack of wrist), squeezing it tightly enough to cause the bone to groan before yanking the limb downwards. The Stalphos was not expecting this turn of events and tended up being pulled forwards and off balance... right into Grindan's waiting hand. As thumb and little finger entered its eye sockets and the other three fingers grasped on tightly, the arm was let go so that Grindan could combine slamming his forearm into the upper torso of the bony enemy while pulling downwards on its head.

When the Stalphos went backwards, it did so with the cracking of bone, a lack of skull and a cut off scream of pain.

Turning towards the nearest of the five remaining Stalphos, Grindan didn't hesitate as he pulled his arm back and hurled the skull in his hand towards its face. Fast moving bone impacted still bone with a heavy thud and an ugly crack as the second Stalphos reached up to cover its now injured skull on some instinctive response to pain, leaving it open for Grindan to swoop in and grapple it. One hand on a shoulder/torso, the other grasping pelvis, bone wasn't that heavy by itself as Grindan lifted the creature off its feet turned it into a projectile as in one motion the flipped over the executioner and thrown into a third Stalphos that was trying to get a swipe at his back. The force behind the throw and the nature of naked Stalphos resulted in both creatures being scattered into a makeshift bone pile made out of their parts. Some of them cracked and broken.

3 down, 3 left.

Well, 2 left. It seemed that rather then get tangled up with the rest of the pack around Grindan due to their size, two of the pack had instead opted to try their luck against the armored Stalphos instead. Despite their size advantage, the armored Stalphos increased intelligence when it came to combat, the usage of their shields and weaponry and greater numbers had already caused one of the wild Stalphos to die without doing anything more then scratching some of the shields and being on its own was only speeding up the demise of the second.

The last unoccupied Wild Stalphos lunged at Grindan, both arms pulled back to try and deliver an overwhelming heavy blow to the executioner. Grindan counter charged him in return, ducking his head down as he dodged the two claw strikes by shoulder checking the Stalphos, carrying it several feet before coming to a stop and causing the bony creature to be flung forward onto its back. Before it had a chance to recovery and get back up, Grindan had already moved forward to bring a heavy, metal coated foot down on its skull in a bone crunching stomp.

Breathing deeply as the last of the slaughter wrapped itself up, Grindan calmly walked over to the Stalphos that was still holding his axe; It hadn't joined in on the fighting, likely because holding the axe upright required most of its attention. Despite the fact that it likely wouldn't care or needed, Grindan did offer a gruff "Thank you." as he took the axe back. After which all that was needed as a bark of "Onwards!" got the group moving again.

Age of Darkness: Despair of the Golden Goddess (LoZ RP)

Grindan didn't mind the company of Stalphos.

Considering that the Executioner had built a fearsome reputation around grinding the bones of the condemned into dust to be used to create some of his stronger, more refined items in the forge, the fact that he didn't have an issue with traveling alongside the armored bones of men that had either been horrid enough in life to rise from the grave again or had been raised by Ganondorf to serve as foot solders might have been surprising to some.

The sad truth was that they were simply better company then the solders of the former King. They generally didn't talk unless spoken to and an verbal answer was needed, followed Grindan's orders without hesitation or question and most important of all, never looked down on him. The former King of Hyrule had drawn solders from many parts of the kingdom, but those entrusted to positions of rank or guarding Castle Town and the Castle were often selected due to their connections; Most had been connected to the nobility in some way, be they minor nobles, bastard children or servants of a noble family that had been sponsored by them to serve their interests in the military... but others had come from the wealthier merchant families who had influence and connections of their own due to coinage rather then land or birth.

While the exact nature of the status and wealth they were connected to varied, all of them tended to come from Castle Town. In their eyes Grindan had been an a sick and twisted country bumpkin militia man with delusions of grandeur, entrusted to perform the jobs that decent folk shouldn't do and thinking that gave him the right to talk to them, let alone give them orders. He also didn't have the ability to effectively discipline them due to those very connections that got them trained as professional guards in the first place. The fact that the Stalphos were generally more competent at doing what they were ordered to do was merely a bonus in Grindan's eyes.

The state of Castle Town was somewhat ...unfortunate in Grindan's opinion. It was a waste, abandoned and left to ruin and the Redeads. Even as they started the trek across the fields towards Lon Lon Ranch, Grindan was considering the logistics of the proposal to present to his old friend and new King. The former capital of Hyrule being left to rot was not just a bad look as far as legitamizing Ganondorf's rule was concerned, but it also represented a loss of an industrial base that could strengthen the new King's grip on the land.

It was while Grindan was contemplating how best to sell the idea that the next time there was a revolt in one of the towns big enough to start getting stupid ideas, once the brave and the stupid had been culled the rest should be clamped in chains and dragged back to Castle Town to start their lives as slave labor by tearing down the ruins and starting to rebuild something new in King Ganondorf's image when the first of the wild Stalphos rose from the ground.

It was easy to tell one group of undead bones from the one following his command by the fact that the latter had armor and equipment while the former merely had their claws to work with. The helm that Grindan wore covered his expression from the outside world, but the annoyed huff that came out of it sounded akin to that of an angry beast... and the two handed axe in his hands looked sharp as he brought it around for combat.

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

Duskwood

With the state of the Kingdom of Stormwind, with its king missing from the throne and a regency built around the young prince, the lands under the influence of the southern most human kingdom had grown perilous to travel. There simply were too many threats to contend with and too few armed solders to patrol the main roads as they might have once done.

This of course didn't stop merchant wagons and traders trying their luck. The wealthier or well connected merchants tended to pool their resources together in order to form caravans, the guards they employed working together in order to try and stand against whatever foe struck out to disrupt their cargo; In the past such caravans would have passed by without incident at all, but these days the threats had grown in number and boldness to the point that no cargo passed through provinces like Westfall or Duskwood without coming under heavy attack. Smaller merchants tended to only have a single wagon at best and despite the rewards that the chaos of the day were offering, few lived to profit from them.

Which made the cart from Westfall all the more interesting. Because in an era were the bandits and monsters were willing to attack fully defended caravans, this one had traveled through Westfall without incident.

From an outside, less informed perspective this might have seemed utterly miraculous. The reality was much less so.

This 'merchant' was a smuggler. Namely, he was a smuggler who had good relations with the Brotherhood and was, in fact, currently transporting a shipment for one of the cells in Duskwood. This went a long way in ensuring that no one bothered them while traveling through Westfall, through once the cart crossed the bridge into Duskwood it stopped briefly in order to pick up its escort for the rest of the journey; Duskwood wasn't the bastion of the Brotherhood that Westfall was after all and the monsters weren't under their thumb.

In the end the cart rolled up to a farmstead that had seen better days and the cargo was unloaded. The leader of the cell came out, the two shared some words and a sack of coin was handed over, alongside a gift of a bottle of rather good dwarven ale. What should have happened was for the Smuggler to return to Westfall so that he could continue to ply his trade with those who offered coin to him... however, instead he died in the seat of his cart, his horse freaked out at the sudden, painful movements of its driver.

When the body was found among the wreckage of the cart on the side of the road, the horse was long gone and the native wild animals had already taken some bites out of corpse. Enough of it survived however to show that the man seemed to have died from the venom of one of the local giant spider breeds, suggesting he had simply run afoul of one. Unfortunate but... a common danger for those traveling Duskwood.

Bautic for his part actually felt a little bad for poisoning the smuggler. He had been an alright guy and had served the Brotherhood's interests well in the past and possibly the future. But the cold hard truth was he had to die. He was the one link in the chain that couldn't be trusted; The only one who might reveal if captured that he had been delivering a special shipment of grain from smugglers from the north.

Age of Darkness: Despair of the Golden Goddess (LoZ RP)

Grindan

Name:
Grindan

Appearance:

Grindan

Grindan is a sturdy, towering figure of a man; The result of a lifetime of working the forge of a blacksmith and employing the various tools of his trade as an executioner demanded and rewarded a high degree of raw physical might. A number of scars mark his arms and hands, alongside some long faded but still deep markings that linger upon his back that are distressing to the eye. Never a handsome man to begin with, Grindan's nose has clearly been broken a number of times and a number of his teeth knocked out or poorly removed which has resulted a rather ugly example of the hylian race.

While he shaves his head bald, Grindan's natural hair color is a light brown/chestnut. His eyes are a dull jade.

Gender:
Male

Race:
Hylian

Background:
Grindan was originally born in one of many small villages that dotted the landscape of Hyrule. He was born the son of the village blacksmith Axton and his supportive wife Amber, but despite the efforts of the local healer Amber passed away several days after giving birth due to complications. The slow and painful death of his wife changed Axton for the worst; He had never been the kindest of men and he was well known for being something of a strict taskmaster, but Amber had been able to coax a degree of softness and restraint from her husband that kept him from being too overbearing in regards to his fellow villagers. With the light of his life gone, Axton became harsh and cold to his fellow hyrulians... the most often focus of his attention being his son.

Throughout Grindan's childhood, his father was a distant figure who expected a high standard from him and was difficult to please because of it. When the standard for normal was set to 'great' by default, good was never good enough while poor work was badly punished. While nothing out of the ordinary when he was small, as he grew older Grindan's punishments tended to get more physical in nature once Axton believed his son was old enough to know better and could take those kinds of things. His nose was broken a number of times and the scars on his back remain decades later.

Axton wanted his son to grow up into a strong man that people could depend on when times were tough. To this end, Grindan was trained to follow his father's footsteps as a blacksmith... and how to use some of the weapons that they made in order to defend their home from the odd monster or bandit. The first time that Grindan took a life as part of the village militia, his father took him aside to let him know just how proud he was of him. It was one of the few times in his life that Grindan actually received his father's approval and it would remain one of his most treasured of memories.

Then the war came and ravaged Hyrule. Grindan's village was not spared the horrors of the conflict as it was attacked, pillaged and left a smoking ruin fairly early on, with most of the population slaughtered in the process. Grindan was able to fight his way out, creating a brief opening which allowed a few other lucky villagers to escape from the carnage but to his knowledge they were all that had managed to escape. His home destroyed, his father and few friends dead, Grindan did the only thing he believed he could do under the circumstances; He sort out the other side of the war in order to offer his services. This would put him in the service of the King of Hyrule.

While the King's army could always use another solder, the truth was that Grindan's skill as a blacksmith actually made him more valuable as a smith then as a solder. His combat ability were refined during his free time due to the fact that this was a war and sometimes things happened, but for the most part he was kept away from combat and served in a supportive role. Grindan might have remained solely in the role of a blacksmith... but fate offered him an opportunity to sate his desire for vengeance and blood when a call went out looking for executioners.

While enemy solders were prime candidates for the chopping block, noose or whatever method of death was deemed suitable to be employed, the upswing of banditry and other crimes because of the war resulted in harsher punishments for those crimes and a need for people willing to carry out such harsh punishments in the King's name... and Grindan quickly became one of them. He quickly gained infamy as an executioner due to a few factors. The first was the fact that while most people would attempt to make the execution as quick and painless as possibly out of a sense of humanity, Grindan had no qualms about using more torturous methods of execution and would often ask the powers that be if they wanted the condemned to go out relatively quick and easy or slow and painfully.

The second was his habit of taking the bones of his victims to grind into powder and use as a component in his blacksmithing. His father had taught him how using bone powder mixed with iron tended to make the end result stronger and lighter, through back in those days they had used animal bones. The decision to use the bones of his victims was as much a pragmatic choice to make use of all the resources on hand as it was a decision to make being sent to the executioner a more daunting prospect. These habits did not make him popular, but his new dreadful reputation did lead him to being introduced to another agent of dread that the King employed.

Ganondorf and Grindan got along swimmingly from the moment they met. While the realities of war and their respective duties meant that they didn't spend to much time together, they quickly developed a friendship built on a mutual respect of the power that burned like a dark, twisted flame they could see within each other. It wasn't strange for Ganondorf to request Grindan's presence in his forces, often finding a use for his friend's special breed of controlled, brutal sadism.

After the war, Grindan remained as a servant of the Crown in both his roles as blacksmith and executioner. He was even granted the title of Royal Executioner by the King for his services in the war... but the reward was somewhat lacking. The position was not a noble title and it was made very clear to him that as far as the nobility was concerned, he was little more then a monstrous peasant that performed the thankless task of cleaning up the prisons.

Serving for a number of years and entering his late twenties to mid thirties (he honestly wasn't exactly sure how old he was anymore himself due to the chaos of time), the King sent Grindan to Snowpeak City with a contingent of solders in order to quell a revolt that some in the city hoped to turn into full on rebellion. Grindan saw that such notions died in their infancy and Snowpeak was brought back into line.

While the war gave him some fresh scars to bare and display, Grindan was ruthless and unflinching as he set an example that the city of Snowpeak would never forget. After all, the roots of rebellion grew thick and deep the darkness. If left alone, they would one day sprout their treasonous fruit... and even if one cut off the branches and hacked down the trunk the tree would regrow with enough time. The roots needed to be torn from their dark, secure hiding places and destroyed utterly.

Upon Grindan's return to Hyrule it was clear that things had changed. Not the least of which was that his old friend Ganondorf had overthrown and killed the old King and installed himself as the new ruler of Hyrule. Grindan was more then happy to pledge his service and loyalty to his friend and new liege and Ganondorf was more then happy to accept it; Despite the fact that Grindan almost certainly would have sided with Ganondorf during the coup, the fact that he was outside of the kingdom at the time meant that he never got the chance to truly prove his loyalty.

In time, this will change. For King Ganondorf needs to be sure of the loyalty of those who might join his inner circle.

Likes:
Killing
Blacksmithing
Cream filled pastry and baked goods in general

Dislikes:
Weakness (Both physical and emotional)
Spicy food
Self Righteous People/Hypocrites

Skill:
As to be expected from the Royal Executioner, he is really good at killing people in a wide variety of ways.
He is also a damn good blacksmith.

Age of Darkness: Despair of the Golden Goddess (LoZ RP)

Grindan

Name:
Grindan

Appearance:

Grindan

Grindan is a sturdy, towering figure of a man; The result of a lifetime of working the forge of a blacksmith and employing the various tools of his trade as an executioner demanded and rewarded a high degree of raw physical might. A number of scars mark his arms and hands, alongside some long faded but still deep markings that linger upon his back that are distressing to the eye. Never a handsome man to begin with, Grindan's nose has clearly been broken a number of times and a number of his teeth knocked out or poorly removed which has resulted a rather ugly example of the hylian race.

While he shaves his head bald, Grindan's natural hair color is a light brown/chestnut. His eyes are a dull jade.

Gender:
Male

Race:
Hylian

Background:
Grindan was originally born in one of many small villages that dotted the landscape of Hyrule. He was born the son of the village blacksmith Axton and his supportive wife Amber, but despite the efforts of the local healer Amber passed away several days after giving birth due to complications. The slow and painful death of his wife changed Axton for the worst; He had never been the kindest of men and he was well known for being something of a strict taskmaster, but Amber had been able to coax a degree of softness and restraint from her husband that kept him from being too overbearing in regards to his fellow villagers. With the light of his life gone, Axton became harsh and cold to his fellow hyrulians... the most often focus of his attention being his son.

Throughout Grindan's childhood, his father was a distant figure who expected a high standard from him and was difficult to please because of it. When the standard for normal was set to 'great' by default, good was never good enough while poor work was badly punished. While nothing out of the ordinary when he was small, as he grew older Grindan's punishments tended to get more physical in nature once Axton believed his son was old enough to know better and could take those kinds of things. His nose was broken a number of times and the scars on his back remain decades later.

Axton wanted his son to grow up into a strong man that people could depend on when times were tough. To this end, Grindan was trained to follow his father's footsteps as a blacksmith... and how to use some of the weapons that they made in order to defend their home from the odd monster or bandit. The first time that Grindan took a life as part of the village militia, his father took him aside to let him know just how proud he was of him. It was one of the few times in his life that Grindan actually received his father's approval and it would remain one of his most treasured of memories.

Then the war came and ravaged Hyrule. Grindan's village was not spared the horrors of the conflict as it was attacked, pillaged and left a smoking ruin fairly early on, with most of the population slaughtered in the process. Grindan was able to fight his way out, creating a brief opening which allowed a few other lucky villagers to escape from the carnage but to his knowledge they were all that had managed to escape. His home destroyed, his father and few friends dead, Grindan did the only thing he believed he could do under the circumstances; He sort out the other side of the war in order to offer his services. This would put him in the service of the King of Hyrule.

While the King's army could always use another solder, the truth was that Grindan's skill as a blacksmith actually made him more valuable as a smith then as a solder. His combat ability were refined during his free time due to the fact that this was a war and sometimes things happened, but for the most part he was kept away from combat and served in a supportive role. Grindan might have remained solely in the role of a blacksmith... but fate offered him an opportunity to sate his desire for vengeance and blood when a call went out looking for executioners.

While enemy solders were prime candidates for the chopping block, noose or whatever method of death was deemed suitable to be employed, the upswing of banditry and other crimes because of the war resulted in harsher punishments for those crimes and a need for people willing to carry out such harsh punishments in the King's name... and Grindan quickly became one of them. He quickly gained infamy as an executioner due to a few factors. The first was the fact that while most people would attempt to make the execution as quick and painless as possibly out of a sense of humanity, Grindan had no qualms about using more torturous methods of execution and would often ask the powers that be if they wanted the condemned to go out relatively quick and easy or slow and painfully.

The second was his habit of taking the bones of his victims to grind into powder and use as a component in his blacksmithing. His father had taught him how using bone powder mixed with iron tended to make the end result stronger and lighter, through back in those days they had used animal bones. The decision to use the bones of his victims was as much a pragmatic choice to make use of all the resources on hand as it was a decision to make being sent to the executioner a more daunting prospect. These habits did not make him popular, but his new dreadful reputation did lead him to being introduced to another agent of dread that the King employed.

Ganondorf and Grindan got along swimmingly from the moment they met. While the realities of war and their respective duties meant that they didn't spend to much time together, they quickly developed a friendship built on a mutual respect of the power that burned like a dark, twisted flame they could see within each other. It wasn't strange for Ganondorf to request Grindan's presence in his forces, often finding a use for his friend's special breed of controlled, brutal sadism.

After the war, Grindan remained as a servant of the Crown in both his roles as blacksmith and executioner. He was even granted the title of Royal Executioner by the King for his services in the war... but the reward was somewhat lacking. The position was not a noble title and it was made very clear to him that as far as the nobility was concerned, he was little more then a monstrous peasant that performed the thankless task of cleaning up the prisons.

Serving for a number of years and entering his late twenties to mid thirties (he honestly wasn't exactly sure how old he was anymore himself due to the chaos of time), the King sent Grindan to Snowpeak City with a contingent of solders in order to quell a revolt that some in the city hoped to turn into full on rebellion. Grindan saw that such notions died in their infancy and Snowpeak was brought back into line.

While the war gave him some fresh scars to bare and display, Grindan was ruthless and unflinching as he set an example that the city of Snowpeak would never forget. After all, the roots of rebellion grew thick and deep the darkness. If left alone, they would one day sprout their treasonous fruit... and even if one cut off the branches and hacked down the trunk the tree would regrow with enough time. The roots needed to be torn from their dark, secure hiding places and destroyed utterly.

Upon Grindan's return to Hyrule it was clear that things had changed. Not the least of which was that his old friend Ganondorf had overthrown and killed the old King and installed himself as the new ruler of Hyrule. Grindan was more then happy to pledge his service and loyalty to his friend and new liege and Ganondorf was more then happy to accept it; Despite the fact that Grindan almost certainly would have sided with Ganondorf during the coup, the fact that he was outside of the kingdom at the time meant that he never got the chance to truly prove his loyalty.

In time, this will change. For King Ganondorf needs to be sure of the loyalty of those who might join his inner circle.

Likes:
Killing
Blacksmithing
Cream filled pastry and baked goods in general

Dislikes:
Weakness (Both physical and emotional)
Spicy food
Self Righteous People/Hypocrites

Skill:
As to be expected from the Royal Executioner, he is really good at killing people in a wide variety of ways.
He is also a damn good blacksmith.

I felt the need to revive an old nightmare.

Age of Darkness: Despair of the Golden Goddess (LoZ RP) (2-3 Open Spots)

@Dark Cloud

HEY LISTEN!

I'm in for this.

I think it's for the best that Droka doesn't make a comeback. More so because this seems to be a very different history and the tragedy that twisted him never happened.

LoZ: Age of Darkness (Closed & Moved to New Int Check)

@Dark Cloud

For what it's worth, I did enjoy what we had. It just seemed like most of the people never followed through.

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

Duskwood

The experiments didn't stop at Jitters. They couldn't. A single experiment performed on a single subject only provided a single point of data and if they wanted to make sure they could weaponize the worgen curse properly, they were going to need to better understand its nature.

Bautic had made a point of limiting the activities of the Defias in Duskwood in order to fade into the background a little bit; The Night Watch of Darkshire were the local law enforcers and they were already under siege by a wide variety of enemies, up to and including the wildlife itself. They were also not above hiring mercenary services in order to enforce their besieged town and strike out at their foes. Such a strike force had marched on Roland's Doom to assault the Worgen there rather recently.

By staying quiet in regards to causing Darkshire itself problems, Bautic intended for the Night Watch to either be ignorant, ignore or forget that the Brotherhood had a presence in Duskwood at all. They were already stretched thin with the enemies who were actively causing them problems as it was without intentionally picking a fight they didn't need too. Having this breathing room served Bautic nicely, since it meant that he had a secure place to allow his students to grow stronger in the art of necromancy while he performed his experiments in peace.

This did mean that getting fresh test subjects was a logistical challenge, since any act that directly drew Night Watch attention to the Defias needed to be avoided... or at least covered up. Abducting travelers, caravan merchants, adventurers and even members of the Night Watch while they were on patrol were doable, but no witnesses or evidence could be left behind. Thankfully, the practicing of necromancy provided a useful tool to help hide their activities.

Not only was the addition of undead forces in the raiding parties a boon towards numbers and thus being able to cut off routes of escape, but having a acolyte forcefully bend some of the corpses at the Raven Hill Cemetery under their control and leaving evidence of them behind at the ambush sites painted the picture that it was the undead of Raven Hill and their necromancer masters that were behind any disappearances reported.

Fell had made making contact with him a rather difficult affair. It was unfortunate, but hopefully having the Night Watch put pressure on him would open him up to the idea of making alliances in the near future. Or he could just get himself killed and the graveyard claimed afterwards. Personally, Bautic didn't care which outcome happened, but adding another master of life and death to the fold wouldn't hurt.

Some test subjects could also be claimed from neighboring proviences like Westfall or even Stranglethorn Jungle, through such options had their own logistical and security issues.

The experiments themselves had started simple; Discovering how the worgen curse spread was a relatively simple affair, through Bautic was somewhat surprised to discover that death seemed to make the curse itself inert. While a dead worgen remained a worgen, its ability to spread the curse further via its blood or other bodily fluids died with them. The infectious samples had to be drawn from a living worgen.

Thankfully they had managed to capture one before the experiments even started... and once the process of creating other worgen was achieved they were able to make replacements when the beast expired.

Step 2 of the experiments, in which the Worgen Curse would be combined with the Plague of Undeath in one fashion or another, was currently hindered by a lack of the latter. The Lich King had been contacted and the lack of plague to use in these experiments was going to be corrected as soon as possible, but it was going to take time. With the lands of Lorderan and the surrounding kingdoms in their current war torn state, while possible, was dangerous in that there would be a risk of interception or tail. The samples would have to come from Northrend itself; Safer and more secure by far, but time consuming.

If nothing else, Bautic would be able to continue teaching the new generations of necromancers as he prepared the Defias for its truth destiny.

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

Duskwood

The old barn was a riot of activity as Bautic crossed the threshold... through only two of the occupants were actually making noise.

While normally there would have been trusted members of the Defias inside with the prisoners in order to make sure they stayed put, the nature of one of their captives had required... special circumstances. So while the living patrolled and guarded the outside, within its walls the dead had been recruited to serve as jailers. Truth be told it made a surprising amount of sense when you thought about it; They wouldn't get bored, they wouldn't fall asleep or need to swap out for biological needs like eating or disposing of waste... and they sure as hell wouldn't be fast talked into doing something stupid. Plus it freed up people to take care of other things since they no longer needed to have members of the Defias actively in the prison barn.

None of that was why the undead were needed for this situation, but promoting the additional benefits didn't hurt.

The wolf creatures that had suddenly appeared throughout Duskwood... Worgen, some people called them... had proven to be something of a problem. The mining operation at Roland's Doom had ended in tragic failure as the wolfish creatures seemed to strike there first, wiping out all the brothers and sisters of the Brotherhood there before spreading out like the savage creatures they were... well, almost all.

Ignoring the pained struggling of the other captive of the room, Bautic walked over to its more human occupant. Even if they were living up to their namesake. "Ah Jitters. I think you'll be glad to know that your information proved accurate. Believe me, if you had lied to me I would have been very upset."

Jitters sat, chained to the wall and looking like a defiled mess of himself. Spending time around the dead and the undead tended to make one accustomed to certain smells and foul odors, but Jitters had not bathed for weeks before he had been hunted down at Raven Hill and being locked up in the old barn hadn't helped his hygiene. The savage beating that had to be delivered in order to get him back here added the scent of old blood to the mixture too.

"Y-You... You found th-that cursed thing?!" the poor, broken man screamed. Partially out of sheer terror, but there was a degree of making himself heard over the muffled, restrained noises of his 'roommate'.

"We did not. We found enough evidence to prove that it was there at some point, but alas forces unknown have currently absconded with it. But that isn't why I felt the need to have this talk with you."

Squatting down somewhat, Bautic resisted the urge to pull away from the awful smell that was Jitters. "Now, the good news is that I can now say with certainty that myself and the rest of the brotherhood are not going to hold you responsible for what happened at Roland's Doom." Jitters managed to raise their head, surprise clearly on his wretched face as Bautic explained "Yes, what happened was tragic. A lot of good people died there. However, we didn't know there was such a powerful magical artifact there and you just happened to be the poor bastard who touched it first. Holding you accountable for an accident like that would be meaningless and cruel."

"However!" Watching the hope be replaced by utter terror in Jitters' eyes was a wonderfully terrible thing. "...What is a little harder to forgive is the fact that you made no effort to contact the rest of the Brotherhood. You ran, you hid... and yes, the fact that there is some kind of warband after the Scythe can excuse that a little, but the moment you saw our people find you in Raven Hill you tried to flee... and when that failed, attacked like a cornered animal. It honestly looks like you abandoned the Defias cause and... well..."

It was easy to see that Jitters was about to beg for his pathetic life. Rather then waste time with that, Bautic raised a hand to signal him to stop and be silent. "Let's just skip all the pleading and stuttering. I'm assuming you were going to say something about being willing to do anything to prove that you aren't a traitorous rat?" After a small moment of silence, Jitters nervously started to nod their head. "Good news then! I intend to take you up on that offer."

Standing back up, Bautic didn't even give Jitters a second glance as he turned and started walking to the other side of the barn. He paused briefly in order to inspect the second, special prisoner of the barn in order to make sure that their bindings was still holding. The shackles were still locked on, the muzzle nice and tight... the large nails hammered into the worgen's body and limbs to pin them into the ground itself to heavily limit its movements and ability to struggle. One of the undead guards, the flesh having long fallen away and leaving bones, only needed a small gesture from its master before lifting up the sledgehammer and slamming it down on a nail that had been forced a bit further out of the ground then was acceptable. The muffled howl of pain was ignored.

The living worgen was not Bautic's interest at the moment anyway. It was the dead one that he was focusing on. A few hours dead, rigamortis had started to set in but the body was still relatively flexible and more importantly; Its fluids were still fluid. Taking out a knife and a glass vial, Bautic performed a quick, surgical slice along a vein before pressing the vial up against the wound and... briefly restarting the heart's pumping with a little bit of necrotic magic. The blood that came out was long cold, but it would do.

A second vial was pulled out, through rather then blood this one would be used to collect drool and other liquids from around and inside the mouth. Gloves were a man's best friend for such a task and the vial was sealed after the collection was done. Putting that away for later, the blood vial was in Bautic's hand as he turned and started to stalk towards the increasingly terrified and whimpering Jitters as the man stared at the vial in question. "We need to discover if further experiments require us to keep a live worgen around the place or if a dead one will do. Thank you for offering your assistance in this matter, Jitters."

The dark ball- who will be successor?

@Vampiretwilight

In fairness, the policy of remarrying tended to have less to do with lust and just having children (even more so if there were already children from the prior marriage) as much as it was about politics. Having your sister or daughter married to the King of the neighboring kingdom tended to go a long way towards securing an alliance with them after all.