The start of it all...

This is the start of our latest guild plot in the Scythe, enjoy.

Her daggers, two silver arcs in her skeletal hands met his axe in a shower of sparks. Genavie's weapons crossed together in a parry mere inches above her exposed collarbones, causing her to lean back. If she wanted, she could have spat on the axe bearing down on her, it was that close. She was rapidly losing ground, literally as her feet slid back in the dirt, and figuratively as her daggers started to shake and rattle in her hands. If she didn't do something quickly her parry would fail and the axe would be able to cleave into the base of her neck unhindered.

With a grunt, she pushed her locked daggers and her opponent's axe as far away from herself as she could. She was able to move the weapons away from her by precious inches. Then she let go of her weapons and dropped to the ground, the axe narrowly missing it's mark as it fell. Though Genavie couldn't feel it, she was sure it nicked off a small piece of the shell of her ear.

Jemiah's Thoughts: She Sells Snails

Jemiah reached down, picking a snail up by it's shell as it slid through the mud and shoving it into the small silk bag that was tied around her hip. Much like her body, the bag tried to float towards the surface of Brightwater Lake. She anchored herself by hanging onto the weeds growing at the bottom of the shallow body of water. She had moved to collect the snails by grasping at different weeds and pulling herself across the ground. Were she on the surface, it would look much like she was walking on her hands. "That's the last of them." She thought to herself. One of the chefs in the Undercity was paying for the snails, apparently they were an ingredient in a meal the Orcish guards considered to be more palatable than 'a diet of mushrooms and old corpses', as the chef had phrased it.

Twisting herself awkwardly, Jemiah moved her weed-clenching hands behind her and brought both her legs down, so they stuck out straight in front of her rather than floating over her head. The remains of the tattered dress she wore billowed out in front of her, swaying gently in the water. She looked up and saw the cloud dulled sunbeams of Tirisfall Glades fruitlessly trying to pierce though the lake water. She tried to exhale, missing the sight of dozens of small bubbles rushing out from her mouth to greet the air outside of the water. Nothing happened. She didn't breathe anymore, which is why she was able to spend the afternoon underwater gathering snails.

How our Death Knight Story Played out as an Event:

I know it's pretty abrupt to switch to an out of character entry when previously I was speaking about our Death Knight story arc in-character, but we punctuated the story with an incredible guild event and I just had to share. For those of you who were wondering what happened after my last in-character post: I did what is commonly referred to in fiction as 'babysitting' my character, Genavie was okay since reinforcements arrived. The Scythe confronted the Death Knights, but they were able to spirit themselves away to Acherus while twirling their mustaches. It was good-times.

That's where our guild event picked up. Our two Death Knights had gone rogue and were spotted heading North from Acherus into the Ghost Lands - they were on the run and without a plan, so the Scythe gathered in Brill and rode out to confront them. It was a great way to get our guild name out there since a lot of leveling deaders saw us all in-character and preparing to ride out. We had a few spectators follow us down through the Plaguelands too. The ride there felt very epic; there was something awesome about seeing so many Forsaken riding together on their dreadsteeds.

Death Knight Story Arc: Part II

You can find part one here.

“What is this? Are you lost Vice-Executor?” Rasmorden tilted his helmet covered head as I glanced past him at the abominations lumbering in the distance. “Are you alone?” He asked, looking over my shoulder.

“I came for you Rasmorden; I'm not lost. And yes, I am alone.” I looked him over, raising an eyebrow under my cowl.

“I never know what tricks you Deathstalkers are up to.” He growled.

“I'm not here to trick you, Rasmorden. And technically I'm not a Deathstalker, I just trained with them.” His eyebrows flattened and he gave me a dry, uncaring expression. “Although to a Death Knight like you that may seem like a somewhat unimportant nuance.” I added quickly.

Driving his runeblade into the ground, Rasmorden adjusted the straps on his gauntlets. For a moment I watched his blade carefully while trying not to look like I was watching it carefully; I had seen what a Death Knight's blade could do even when not directly wielded by its master and knew well enough not to turn my back on such a blade carelessly.  Pulling my eyesockets away from the blade's flickering runes, I took another small step towards Rasmorden.

“Do you know why I sought you tonight, Rasmorden?” I spoke quietly, mostly because I wanted him to strain to hear me, but also because he had picked up his runeblade again and raising my voice seemed like a very bad idea. I went to rest the tips of my rotten fingers against the edge of his blade, I had no fear of cutting myself. I needed to get the weapon in position, I had to know exactly where it was. “Why is your weapon drawn?”

Death Knight Story Arc: Part I

Timeline note: This entry is Genavie's point of view in a storyline that's taken off with my guild this week. Originally it was just a personal story, but it's expanded so that we can now involve the whole guild. This story does not continue off of the 'Book that I Write in' entries, as those are about Genavie's past. This entry pertains to current roleplay that took place with the character just a few days ago.

I slowly wrapped the tattered remains of my hand around the tree trunk, peering out from behind it and eyeing my target across the field in the distance. I was in deep in Silverpine; so deep you're not sure whether Silverpine has ended and Gilneas has begun and you long to see the map lines painted across the terrain in front of you; just to offer you some sense of direction and certainty.

As I continued to watch my target I couldn't help but reflect on how The Deathstalkers are easily the most feared assassins guild in Azeroth. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure SI:7 and Ravenholt have some charming training programs where you can feel the wind and sun on your face while you practice your shadow stepping and take deep breaths of fresh spring air with your functioning lungs. I'm just saying they don't have anything on a band of animated corpses that can watch you for days without the need to eat, sleep or rustle in the bushes while they relieve their bowels.