Guild Stories: The Cult of the Wolf

While Orkan was busy rebuilding everything, he sent us on a mission to occupy us. Turns out, that one of our clients in the Venture Company had their supplies stolen multiple times and called on us for help in stopping this. Having no rift to quickly take us to the area, we had to get there by ship and found the old shipping docks in Grizzly Hills occupied by Venture Company again. We managed to talk one of the goblins into leading us around and explaining what happened. We found a shack where the supplies were stolen from, and with the help of little magic, we’ve seen some silhouettes of the figures that took it – and they were worgen.

We followed further into the camp, where we met with our client, a notorious goblin gangster known as Motorhead. He was full of appreciation for our work and our recently deceased boss, so he let us meet their newest prisoner the goblins caught around their base. The prisoner was a crazy Scarlet Crusader, no less racist than any other Scarlet Crusader, but was far more rambling. He did, however, claim he knows where the thieves are and would lead us there. On our responsibility, he was let go, and took off into the forest.
As we chased him, it quickly turned out something was off about him, moreso than just being a Scarlet Crusader. He viciously attacked some ghouls, left over from the Scourge invasion, and worgs in the woods actually refrained from attacking him. Then, we finally reached an old logging ground where the stolen supplies were stashed. There, we confronted a Solstice Villager, secretly a worgen, and as fought her, the Crusader revealed himself to be a worgen himself. Before they both died to our blades, he claimed that “all the humans in Grizzly Hills have been turned, every single one”.

There’s too many gods of death

Everyone wants to be a god of death it seems. Why is that so? I don’t know about others, but I much prefer life. When you’re dead, you can’t taste things, or feel the soft, new nest underneath you. When you’re dead, you can’t expand your knowledge. So why there’s so many gods of death? I mean, think about it. Arthas, the Lich King, presented himself to the vrykul as a “death god”. His “best friend” Yogg-Saron of course had to suffix his already scary title of “Old God” with “of Death”. Now, DEATHwing decided his name doesn’t have enough death in it so he proclaimed himself an Aspect of DEATH. Even the squawking quilboar had an organization called “Death’s Head”. It seems that if you want to sound scary you have to put as much DEATH as possible in your names and titles. Coming soon: deathy death death of death (and death). And then there are these Xa’tac.

The Weight of Such a Burden

The descent into Azjol-Nerub went fairly smoothly. I fully expected some troubles to crop up – some leftover undead Nerubians, maybe evil living Nerubians worshiping Yogg-Saron, maybe something else of the multiple evils that lie in the unexplored parts of that forgotten kingdom. But no, everything went swimmingly. The most trouble we met so far was a couple of bats and spiders, nothing the group of 10 people couldn’t handle. This Xarthat guy kept leading us deeper and deeper, and it was only getting darker and damper. Really, I’m a bird, I was made for open skies and trees not for cramped, nearly airless corridors. It was a slow and painful torture.