Refugees find Vanguard
Dearest Nittering,
As you are well aware, the council of Gnomeregan has been searching for another home for some time. The dwarves have been courteous hosts, but our need for independence drives us forward. Our needs are simple, but we are adamant in them.
We require a hospitable place that our people can call home again. Since learning of our past mistakes, we need an easily defensible home and possible allies in the area.
To this end we wish you and your guildmates to explore the world of Telon. Earliest reports indicate an enormous world with infinite possibilites for discovery and science. The entryway to Telon must be kept a closely guarded secret, lest we inflict horrors on the world such as the dark portal brough to us.
You must be our vanguard is this. Only the might of the Refugees, slayers of the great wyrm Onyxia, can hope to prevail here.
Long live Gnomregan!
The Council
Nittering had commited the letter to memory long ago, but carried it tightly in his hand as he stepped through the swirling vortex the gnomes called The Portal of Telon. His heart felt firmly wedged into his throat, and he knew that most of his nausea had nothing to do with his method of travel.
He was here. This new world the gnomes thought could be their salvation.
And he had no idea what to do next.
So Nittering walked, stealthily searching the landscape, as was his habit. For over two days he wondered the strange forest he had found himself in. There were omnipresent dangers. Strange wisps whose light shone through the thick foliage to warn the alert rogue of their presence. Creatures who Nittering at first thought to be a light skinned elf, until he neared and saw that they were composed entirely of wood. Giant spider-like creatures that dropped from the tallest of trees onto their prey.
Nittering walked on.
Finally, Nittering heard the sounds of battle, almost welcome after the constant stresses his hiding had been putting him under. Nittering crept through the bushes, as silent as death, towards the unmistakable sounds of magic raining down destruction. He heard the gutteral screams of an enormous sounding humanoid, ending abruptly.
Peering through the edge of the foliage, Nittering looked out upon the sight of a tiny goblin, peering closely at the body of his slain orcish foe. In the near distance the gnome could see a port city, populated with orcs and goblins in abundance, all dressed similarly to the slain orc.
Hmm, I've never met a goblin I couldn't get along with, thought the gnome, and stepped from the brush.
The goblin spun, startled, but halted the spell already forming on his lips as the rogue stepped into the clearing, his hands held empty before him as a sign of peace.
"Rathak, hemsel a'li?" The goblin asked quizzically.
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand." This was no goblin language the well-traveled gnome had previously encountered.
The goblin stared at him for twenty seconds more, then abruptly shrugged his shoulders, and turned back to the orc. Nittering walked slowly towards the goblin, his hands still held out nonthreateningly.
Suddenly the goblin began to change. His flesh flowed upwards, expanding at an alarming rate. Within seconds, the newly slain orc appeared to be standing before the awestruck gnome where the goblin had been only moments before.
Another stream of nonsense emerged from the goblin/orc's mouth as he smiled at the rogue. Finally he pointed to himself and said the word, 'Grimbil.' Then the goblin in orcish form spun on his heels and started walking towards the port city. After taking a few steps, the goblin uttered more gibberish, then motioned to the gnome to follow.
Nittering hesitated only a moment. It was obvious that this goblin was going to infiltrate this enemy city by posing as one of their own kind. It was also equally obvious that Nittering had never met anyone who could infiltrate as well as himself, even if they did have some form of illusionary magic to help them.
"Fine, if that's the way you want it, I'm coming too. I'll show you how it's done."
As Nittering followed his new aquantaince towards the port, he almost felt sorry for the town.
Nittering Fierymane Co-Guild Leader, Refugees
Dearest Nittering,
As you are well aware, the council of Gnomeregan has been searching for another home for some time. The dwarves have been courteous hosts, but our need for independence drives us forward. Our needs are simple, but we are adamant in them.
We require a hospitable place that our people can call home again. Since learning of our past mistakes, we need an easily defensible home and possible allies in the area.
To this end we wish you and your guildmates to explore the world of Telon. Earliest reports indicate an enormous world with infinite possibilites for discovery and science. The entryway to Telon must be kept a closely guarded secret, lest we inflict horrors on the world such as the dark portal brough to us.
You must be our vanguard is this. Only the might of the Refugees, slayers of the great wyrm Onyxia, can hope to prevail here.
Long live Gnomregan!
The Council
Nittering had commited the letter to memory long ago, but carried it tightly in his hand as he stepped through the swirling vortex the gnomes called The Portal of Telon. His heart felt firmly wedged into his throat, and he knew that most of his nausea had nothing to do with his method of travel.
He was here. This new world the gnomes thought could be their salvation.
And he had no idea what to do next.
So Nittering walked, stealthily searching the landscape, as was his habit. For over two days he wondered the strange forest he had found himself in. There were omnipresent dangers. Strange wisps whose light shone through the thick foliage to warn the alert rogue of their presence. Creatures who Nittering at first thought to be a light skinned elf, until he neared and saw that they were composed entirely of wood. Giant spider-like creatures that dropped from the tallest of trees onto their prey.
Nittering walked on.
Finally, Nittering heard the sounds of battle, almost welcome after the constant stresses his hiding had been putting him under. Nittering crept through the bushes, as silent as death, towards the unmistakable sounds of magic raining down destruction. He heard the gutteral screams of an enormous sounding humanoid, ending abruptly.
Peering through the edge of the foliage, Nittering looked out upon the sight of a tiny goblin, peering closely at the body of his slain orcish foe. In the near distance the gnome could see a port city, populated with orcs and goblins in abundance, all dressed similarly to the slain orc.
Hmm, I've never met a goblin I couldn't get along with, thought the gnome, and stepped from the brush.
The goblin spun, startled, but halted the spell already forming on his lips as the rogue stepped into the clearing, his hands held empty before him as a sign of peace.
"Rathak, hemsel a'li?" The goblin asked quizzically.
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand." This was no goblin language the well-traveled gnome had previously encountered.
The goblin stared at him for twenty seconds more, then abruptly shrugged his shoulders, and turned back to the orc. Nittering walked slowly towards the goblin, his hands still held out nonthreateningly.
Suddenly the goblin began to change. His flesh flowed upwards, expanding at an alarming rate. Within seconds, the newly slain orc appeared to be standing before the awestruck gnome where the goblin had been only moments before.
Another stream of nonsense emerged from the goblin/orc's mouth as he smiled at the rogue. Finally he pointed to himself and said the word, 'Grimbil.' Then the goblin in orcish form spun on his heels and started walking towards the port city. After taking a few steps, the goblin uttered more gibberish, then motioned to the gnome to follow.
Nittering hesitated only a moment. It was obvious that this goblin was going to infiltrate this enemy city by posing as one of their own kind. It was also equally obvious that Nittering had never met anyone who could infiltrate as well as himself, even if they did have some form of illusionary magic to help them.
"Fine, if that's the way you want it, I'm coming too. I'll show you how it's done."
As Nittering followed his new aquantaince towards the port, he almost felt sorry for the town.
Nittering Fierymane Co-Guild Leader, Refugees
