You’ve all heard of
the majesty of Stormwind, dear readers. The grand political capital of the Alliance
Many of the
extraordinaire and brave men and women of the Alliance
And yet rumors of
horror are abound.
Stormwind, once a
mighty beacon of hope and prosperity, has been said to now have become a city
of utter decadency. Cultists roam the streets openly; heretics and zealots
spread their filth unrestrained. Never ending riots plague the jails and
criminals rule the streets. Bigotry and hate is everywhere and the very
guardsmen are corrupt and incompetent. Death knights and warlocks practice
their darks arts freely, demons and dragons walk unchecked. The very
aristocracy, duty bound to protect the city, have a turned a blind eye as the
very people we called heroes have become monsters, the city nothing but the
playground for their petty conflicts.
What is myth and what
is fact?
That is what we aim to
find our dear viewers! Follow our very own Bridgit Hoffington, known for her
columns on the daily life and struggle of adventurers in Theramore Times, as
she strikes out for the Alliance
Raw, real, and
unedited… okay well maybe just alittle edited... er, where was I? Oh yes! Read
straight from our own correspondent’s words to you loving followers, stay tuned
daily for…
“Azerothian Travels: The City of Light
Ooooh, sounds spooky
and mysterious, I can’t wait for the first reports!
This is Wendy Breezy
of Gnomeragon Gnews Gnetwork, signing out!
And if you can hear us
Bridgit, say hi to Risza and Breel and the other folks from Shattering Gnews! I
love those guys!
???? ?? Year 34, Day
1
It is the first day of my mission, my arrival close at hand.
I am sitting now in the back of a rather lush passenger wagon bound for the
majestic capital, my objective. To say both excitement and utter terror course
through my veins at this very moment, as we reach nearer to the famous, or
equally infamous, city, is an understatement to the true magnitude of it all.
I have long dreamed of visiting the grand city of Stormwind Alliance
To prowl the streets of the Mage District, entranced by the
strange trinkets and mystical wonders all around me; always something, dare I
say, magical around every corner? And of
course, last but not least, to lose myself through the ash thick mist of the
industrious dwarf district.
To experience the weird, the explosive, the marvelous
technology and gadgets of the ever adorably lunatic gnomes, to see the mighty dwarves,
and perhaps even the alien Draenei, working and hammering tirelessly, creating
armor and weapons truly fit for the heroes that make up the lifeblood of the
city.
Oh yes, how can we forget the heroes, the remarkable
adventurers, who stand as the purpose for the capital’s fame and infamy, the
real reason for my joy, and my fear. These legends who are seen as both idols
and nightmares, these eccentric individuals who’ve the taken call to go far and
beyond.
In a way, or perhaps better to say in truth, they are the
culture of the city, it’s main essence. Despite the capital’s political
importance, it almost seems as if it’s come to exist solely for these demi-gods
over the past few years, to accommodate them for they are the true power
between the two factions that fight over this world.
I come to this city, not to study it, but to study these
individuals, as I have attempted to do so for the better part of my life. To
know the lives they lead, see for myself if they are truly the figures of glory
and destruction most make them out to be.
To se… Oh dear, it seems we have come to a stop. Looking at
my past passages now it seems I have gone off on a bit of a rant, which I doubt
the editors are going to be happy about, but oh well. In any case, if I heard
the rider correctly, we have arrived in the quaint, humble miner town of Goldshire
… At least I remember it to be quaint from past visits, yet
strangely I hear a rather loud racket coming from what I’m sure is the town’s
central district. It sounds almost equivalent to some sort of parade or large,
celebrating gathering. Goldshire was a rather quiet and calm village last I
checked, then again quite a few years have past since my visit so of course
changes are bound to happen.
When I was previously looking for a mode of transport in
Redridge, I remember asking the residents for advice for my trip into
Stormwind. The number one item I heard was, “Stay away from Goldshire.” They
all said such with spiteful tones and when I attempted to inquire further, a
long, awkward silence would descend. A far away gaze painted them, I assumed
they were retreating into their memories, and their expression slowly paled as
if they had seen the Burning Legion itself. At that point they frantically
hurried off, shaking their heads and merely repeating the same advice.
What could inspire such fear? Did this perhaps have
something to do with it? I gaze out the
window now over the rest of the town, which seems eerily empty. What residents
there are hurry along with their duties, all paths towards the center of the
town deserted and avoided. The driver has caught my curious gaze, he quickly
gives me the same warning, to stay inside, while he quickly feeds the horse and
takes care of some formal business.
Of course this merely feeds my burning curiosity. These folk
don’t seem to realize that attempting to warn youth with such superstitious
secrecy only pushes them on, and of course I go now to investigate. Could it
truly be that bad? I have probably seen worse.
…
…
Is it possible to be so thoroughly mentally violated as to
consider it worse than physical rape?
…
I… I…I don’t think there are any words in the common
language to describe the absolute hell I have just witnessed. And if any rape
had indeed occurred, my childhood memories would be the victim. My precious
Lion’s Pride Inn, one of the most respectable ale houses in all of Azeroth, a
place I remember with fond memories of joy and laughter from my youth when my
parents were still wandering merchants, has now been corrupted into this… this… fucking abomination, pardon the
vulgarity.
When I turned the corner into the town’s center, the scene
displayed could only be described as a legal, neverending riot, and yet not
even that would come close to expressing the depravity before me. I say legal
because what guardsmen were present were either very much invested in the chaos
or attempting to ignore what was happening with every fiber of their being.
Actually, I believe I found a more apt description: An orgy
of chaos, destruction, and adultery.
My beloved Inn had become a
whorehouse, to put it bluntly. A whorehouse from hell. Voluptuous women of
every race you could imagine, and I mean every race, lined up the front, the
costumes ranging from barely decent to something equivalent to the attire of a
succubus to outright bare flesh. In hindsight, I believe I also saw some demons
as part of the gathering as well, and not just succubi but creatures I don’t
believe there are names for.
People, who I would only call adventurers with bile in my
throat, were fighting and dancing like lunatics in the streets, if they weren’t
stumbling like drunks and causing property damage at every turn. Every race,
from even the once believed respectable Draenei and Night Elves, to Worgans and
even Orcs, Trolls and Blood Elves, were present company.
I doubt any local villagers… correction, any human with even
the bare minimum sanity would be capable of orchestrating such a scene. No, I
suspected goblin hands. An obvious tip off were the large, glowing letters on
the establishment’s roof, a neon sign I believe they call it, which read,
“Whoreshire,” with a wickedly grinning goblin in a fine black suit holding his
thumb up in approval. The possibility of any decent civilization on this
planet, except perhaps for Goblins and yet I think even they have standards; allowing
such a place to be simply couldn’t enter my mind. The sheer existence of this
place was unbelievable in itself.
In my shock I stood petrified, for I do not know how long,
before frantically sprinting back to my ride, not daring to even imagine what
could possibly be going on inside.
After I returned to the carriage, and regurgitated the
contents of my stomach, the driver looked at me with narrowed eyes and lips
curled into a sneer, shaking his head as he said in a low, bitter tone, “I told
you so.” I scowled in return and gave him an earful, needing someone,
something, to vent at least some of my anger, to lose myself in the emotion for
a moment and forget.
Once it was all said and done I slumped back down in my
seat, where I write now, and sighed. I paid him extra for the trouble and asked
him kindly if he could still send me on my way, which he thankfully nodded to
with no word spoken.
First it was the troubling voyage from Theramore, then the
flooding of Menethil harbor, and now this. Before I would have said the journey
had merely experienced some shakes but was still well on its way with a bright
future ahead.
Now I say it has been an utter disaster so far, and to add
on top of that I find the horrible beginning to be foreboding in nature. The
eyesore I just witnessed matches perfectly with all the horrible rumors
surrounding the city. I mean, if this is what the country side so close to the
city side, Light can only imagine how it is in the actual capital.
But I must not let dark thoughts enter my mind and steer me
from my course. As they say to not judge a race based solely on a few
individuals, so too I must I hold back my panic and disgust as I have yet truly
witnessed everything. There probably exists some good explanation for the
allowance of that… establishment’s existence.
Perhaps it might be that the all the dark tales and myths
had originated from this town, from traveling bards and social explorers,
individuals such as myself, who had been equally violated by what they saw and
were scarred off, assuming that it was the same, or worse, further on.
Yes, that has to be it. I must not despair. Things must
surely brighten up in the capital of the Alliance
Ah how marvelous, I can already hear the bustling sound of
activity. I believe we are… Yes, we are approaching the gates of Stormwind, and
oh Light bless me how grand it all seems. I can already feel my spirits lift. I
can see in the distance the famous statues of the Second War heroes, although…
General Trollbane seems to be… missing.
Looking out my window as we reach the bridge I see us
surrounded by a dense crowd of merchants, farmers, and other travelers, be it
on horse, foot, or wagon, moving forward with us. We move at a fair but leisure
pace, which I find comforting rather than infuriating. The return of the
mundane, the common and normal, do much to aid my spirits. The morning sky is
beautiful, fairly clear but for the occasional cloud.
Oh but I have rambled on enough. I believe I must attend a
registration at the customs office, which if I recall also serves as the guild
registration office. Perhaps I will catch my first glimpse of the daily life
and struggles of an adventurer in Stormwind there?
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