THE HARVEST IS HERE

(( a poster has appeared on the wall of every building in Brill. ))

THE HARVEST IS HERE!

Greetings citizens of new lordaeron, and especially the queen's elite carrying the name of "The Spine".

The Harvest, is a group of few chosen, for a new cause to serve the dark lady. We have remained underground as long as possible, for being very unsure of the acceptance of our means and motives.

Our purpose, is to capture and manifest souls for the good of the forgotten shadow and the dark lady. With the new manifestation technique, we have found success in empowering and inventing spells and rituals. Also, creating concoctions, enchanting weaponry and posessing machinery. Example: The Burning Legion has constructed Fel Reavers this way (our machinery does not require fel magic).

We gather our souls from the enemies of the forsaken and the shadow and use it for the previous purposes, to ensure the success of the lady's war effort. We are divided in two sections. The harvesters, who gather and contain the souls, and the guardians, the main protectors of the harvesters.

The reason for your possible hostile reaction to us, is that these souls do not lie dormant when they are captive. They suffer and wail until the moment they are consumed. We also capture those of our kin who volunteer for it, and usually use them for a kinder cause, such as dark mending, or we can have them exorcised if no use are found for them. Granting them peace which our enemies shall not have unless we grant it.

In the harvest, we follow a strict hierarchy. Anyone crossing authorities intendedly after receiving a warning, shall be banished from the order without questioning. The one doing wrong to the dark lady or the forgotten shadow shall become one with the war effort.

Due to recent events, one or two of our members have blown their cover. Because of this, I feel that we need to reveal ourselves before any accusations of conspiracies or rebellions. Also, if any leading member of the Spine would care to converse with me, I would be more than glad. It's possible that you might know my true identity already, but if not, then we shall see when the time is right.

Best of regards to everyone.

-Grand Harvester Crowtalon

(( yep. A little non-guild organization which I made. Still to decide if I'm to make it a real RP guild in the future. ))

(( Also, OOC ideas, opinions and questions of this to this thread PWEASE ))

Lynnea wanders past, before actually having to take a second look at the poster. She reads it through, furrowing her brows before shaking her head.

"So he just cannot sell the idea to his own organisation instead of putting up his own one. Using fake identities, hmph. Miserable, this isn't going to get far."

She gently tries to rip the nails from the outer wall of her chapel pillars to remove the poster. Leaving the poster lie in the rain dampened ground instead.

The shadows by the walls of the city hall moved, crawled up to the poster, running shadowy claws along the lines of text.

Woman hisses, ripping the poster off the nail and reading it through again. She snarls something through her teeth, setting the parchment into shadowflame and shaking the ashes off her hand. Surprised chef nearby meets Chloe's annoyed glance, but before he could ask anything, woman disappears beneath the shadows of the building, leaving the feeling of cold hatred in the air.

A dark figure looms over one of the posters in Brill It appears that the Raven has been keeping himself busy, what a pity.
He carefully reaches up and extends his diseased claw, gripping the poster at the weakest edge and ripping it from the wall. He throws it to the floor and mutters a few words in simple Draenic. His hand contorts in pain and one of the few remnants of living flesh rots as the Light performs it's toture upon the Forsaken Priest. From his hand the light extends and envelopes the poster, proceeding to gnaw at it's roots and cripple any further growth.

It appears words need to be had, if only I could return safely... If only my work had not reached such an important stage. The concoctions that The Admiral and I are working with have come to form a suitably delicious banquet. Before long, I will be able to advance to the oh so important stage of testing...

The figure continues to walk, narrowly avoiding being seen by a passing Lynnea. As he continues to cross the town and find his resting Wind Rider he ponders the posters contents once more...
"The Grand Harvester... The Raven... Why does that title seem to familiar to me..." His mutterings resonating a power unseen in the Undead, the Draenic language a rare gift amongst his people, he quickly swears as he realises attention will be drawn.
"Indeed... Nathan shall have to be told."

The sound of lightly padded footsteps can be heard across the floor, gently echoed by the pitter-patter of gentle raindrops that cascade from the suffocatingly dark sky. The only light in the area glowing from a small oil lamp in a withered form’s hand. It glowed faintly as the form continued to move from building to building, stopping swiftly outside of the laboratory.

”Hmm, what useless dribble is it this time? Harvesters? Pah! Sounds like cattle work to me…”

The form pressed their skeletal digits to the poster, searing away the imprinted letters and allowed the parchment to burn in a vivid explosion of wild colours, reds, oranges and golds, meshing together in chaotic beauty.

As the paper had finished burning, and was nothing but grey and black ash, the form sulked away back into the shadows of the larger building, disappearing from sight completely.

Overnight, a group of other dark figures walk around the buildings and along their roofs. In the morning, the same buildings were covered with DOZENS of the same posters. And the edges of the roofs filled with posters with two long scythes crossed together, with a wailing soul in between the blades.

Loud laughter can be heard from behind the lab, as Manners sits there holding one of the posters with the crossed scythes.

"Harvesters? Scythes? Hah! What is the meaning of putting up posters all over town to give yourselves a name? You're certainly not looking to get some bonds with our organization this way, fools!"

He throws up the paper in the air, firing several shots with his flintlocke towards the poster, as it ends up in pieces.

" How... Childish."

Woman glances over the buildings, shadows, surrounding her, tremble in annoyed manner. Cleric nods to the workers, who by her slight gesture start the work, cleaning up the buildings from the posters.

As she watches the work being done, few guards are being informed to watch out for further disturbance of the town.

" Most... Idiotic way of approach for diplomacy."

Nightdragon sighs, shaking her head and moving back into the labs.

Lynnea's jaw drops as she steps out of her chapel after a long night of prayers and solving many riddles. She looks around with widened eyes, her tiny hands clench into fists. She begins to shiver, bursting into somewhat whispy chuckling.

"Raven seems to be quite serious, but... as long as he stops trashing my sacred chapel. His scraps aren't welcome here."

Calming down and forcing her back into a more presentable state, Lynnea joins the workers of Brill to remove the posters, especially from the walls and roofs of her beloved chapel.
"I must see what the others think of this nonsense. He works against our organisation, that's for sure. I would want to see what Father Dusksworn would do with this.. "

Anselm walks with his usual heavy footsteps, spitting around and being a pig, as allways. He notices the poster on the wall, and stops to read it. After few seconds, he realizes that his brain capacity does not know -that- good spelling, and draws a pencil from his belt. After drawing quite a few ivory pictures over the text, such as Krastov's breasts and Marcelle's ass and some mongrel resembling a goblin, he writes crudely and widely on the poster: "SPELL. FUCKING. FORSAKEN."

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Tristan walks by a poster, and quickly glances through it. He puts on a wide, skeletal grin, pulling his hat down as he places a cigarette between his teeth and takes a deep drack. "What a marvelous idea!" he says to himself, and rips the poster down with one swift hand movement. "..For fiends that have no humanity left in them." He again says to himself, and walks away, his long trench coat following him like a shade.

Marcelle totters out of the labs come sunrise, the sky is lightened now, considering the suffocating darkness of the previous evening. The air is warm and clammy, somewhat humid. Her face, covered in a dark shroud, only allowing the occasional flicker of her eyes as they scan the surroundings, her eyebrows remain still.

"More of this trash? I do believe we already have disposal units. Harvesting souls? Gee, look at the emblem, how cliché, might as well throw in a few thousand dying humans, arms ripped off at the sockets, entrails hanging out, bloodspatters across the scythes.. Ah.. Such a beautiful world."

Grunts loudly as she continues on with her morning rant, obviously not caring if there is, or isn't anyone around at the time to listen into her mindless dribble. The skullflames on her shoulderguards light up as her temper reaches it peak, yet she continues to stroll around Brill, glaring at the passers by and speaking in a loud, harsh tone.

"Dying humansss, torn apart at the seems!
Drinking the fluids of eachotherrrrr~~~
Eating the limbs of one anotherrrr~~
All dying around meeeeee!~

... Hey, I should consider going into the musical industry, that was rather good."

Coughs, spluttering a thick, green, viscous liquid onto one of the posters, admiring, in some twisted manner how it lingers before dribbling downwards slowly. Her index fingers swinging from side to side, whilst she hums a little tune to go along with her previously made up song.

With a elegant move the Apothecary removed one of the posters from the Lab wall. After quickly reading it Darkcast frowned.

"Collect souls? Pah, warlock ideas! Why can they just have a collection of heads like normal people... I wonder if I am breaking any laws by using the term normal."

With a shrug he threw the poster aside and returned to work.