Prelude to Invasion:
"Whispers in The Dark."
"Can't... Can't anyone else hear that?"
"It's like... A small whispering noise..."
"Sorry... I'm sorry. I've got to go."
This is an attempt to-SevenNineThree
"Move! I need to get into my office!"
TwoFiveSeven- This is an attempt to prevent actions taken- FiveNineOneSix
"Johnny! Where are those pain pills?!"
SevenSevenNineTwo- This Transmission was achieved through temporal manipulation of your chatstone. The message you are recieving- NineEightFourTwo
"Agghh! Why won't it stop?!"
SixSevenNine-Please, remain calm. Do not allow Gregor Fremen to search for the skull. It is vital to-NineTwoThreeOne
"Can't anyone else hear it?! Light!"
FourSevenEight- Prevent him from finding it or he will- SevenThreeOne
"STOP IT! Just stop it! Why won't it stop?!"
OneSixNine-Kalris was correct. Dark fire will reign upon the land. Nowhere is safe. The MacHarren Project is-ThreeThreeThree
-THUMP- "LIGHT DAMMIT!"
SiSixSevenEightNine- The Legion has come. The Project is entering Phase Three. Preventative measures through Stage Four are being undertaken ahead of schedule. End transmission.
Prelude to Invasion:
"Fire in the Sky"
Light, I hate meetings. I especially hate meetings that have to deal with shit like this. "End of the World", they're calling it. Maybe Azeroth... But there are contingencies.
OUTPOST 47, Draenor
3 O'Clock In The Morning
I need to remember to install some damn lighting in this meeting hall. I mean, I have a large dining hall table, and I can barely make out anyone's face! Hell, if someone were to come in, they'd assume we were some kinda cabal, from those penny dreadfulls they tell at the Trade District corner!
"I know you're all wondering why I've invited you all here today. I also know that you're wondering what's so damn important, that I had to wake you up. Now before I begin, I would request that you all introduce yourselves... Starting with you on my right."
The near-silhouetted figure next to me rises to its feet, standing against the dim backlighting... Did I mention, that I needed some light bulbs installed in there?
"'ello... My name is Johnny, I'm the one in charge of the emergency music and communications systems. Ermmm... Mind if I smoke a wrap in 'ere or..."
With a deep sigh, I shake my head in disapproval. As Johnny lowers himself back down, a smaller silhouette rises next to him. Smelling of heavy booze and strange perfume, the shrouded individual clears its throat.
"Aye... 'm Lord Craag Frohike o' the Dwarvish Relations Department..."
One by one, they begin to rise.
"Shamus Lona... Owner of Shamus' Tonics..."
"... Alun'ar Nightrise, Hippogryph Breeder..."
"Ramus Dark... Grandmaster of the Fremen Coven..."
My mind drones out a tad, as the last few introduce themselves. Taking a cigarette from out of my pocket, I light up, thinking the spell for the dark flame to spur from my fingers.
"Right then... As we all know, we are here to discuss phase one of my project, to help preserve civilized society before possible destruction by threats both external and in..."
Taking a long drag from my cigarette, I breath in the smoke, filling my lungs. With a deep sigh, I blow a cloud into the air, adding to the mood, I suppose.
"As most of you know... I have many contacts and informants within both the military and shipping industrial complexes. According to trustworthy witnesses, green flame, -GREEN- -FLAME-, in the skies over the sea. Continuing on, there have been less confirmed reports of increased demonic presenses near naval vessels. According to my contacts in the Horde... There has been attacks on their vessels. Given the current geo-political situation... We have little to no way to confirm the veracity of that claim."
Uneasy noises emminate across the table. Taking another puff, I close my eyes.
"Given the misinformation given previously, I cannot attest as to how accurate these instances are... But if they are correct, then we will begin the first phase here. But, in order to proceed... I need you people to vow your loyalty to the Project. Once we leave this room, this Outpost will not only begin to undergo renovations... But will be operating without oversite from the Alliance Military. If you have objections to this... Voice your opinions now."
Extinguishing the cigarette, I peer around. Either they are afraid to voice descent, or are prepared for this next step.
"Right then... We begin Phase Two. Gather our associates... Families. Bring them here... You have one week."
The Life And Death Of A Good Man
You know this is it, Gregor. We can't go on like this... Me, the baby. It's just not possible.
In dark days like these, I find it impossible to not think of Nora. No one really knows much about who she was. What she meant to me. Marrion did. For a brief moment in time, he was happy for me. Our occasional resentment had faded and I saw the good man within shine through. I'm standing on a boat right now, surrounded by soldiers, mercenaries and healers from every corner of the Alliance. We're all going to die, once we reach the shore. And here I am, torn between memories of love, the final ones of hate, and the reality of the situation, that I now face.
I suppose that I'll begin with Nora. She wasn't a kind soul. A Gilnean Refugee is one thing. But she was that and a thief. I met her at the crossroads in Duskwood, during my early years. In her human form, she was beautiful. Long rose hair flowed down, with dark brown eyes that were the shade of earth. Instead of stopping her from looting the corpses of highwaymen, I merely stood there smitten in both horror and awe. She transformed into her worgen form, a lithe beast, with silken brown fur and the same dark eyes. We met on numerous occasions, a game forming from me trying to catch her. A year passed and she finally stopped running one night. We kissed and became partners of a sort. Another year and we were living together, with a young one on the way. The House of Fremen would live on...
Until the day I found our apartment in shambles. Her body laid out on her bed, with a runic knife lying on mine. Cultists that I had thwarted had taken their revenge. The Darkness took me...
Gregor, this is suicide... If you go to that shore, you will die. Stay here with me...
And years later, I stood at a table with my cousin. Marrion is a brash but fair man. A decent man. But in order to save his life and those of others, he chose the simple path. Seal himself away from the world. That is not what we were raised for. That is not what the House of Fremen stands for. Our legacy is that of the never-ending quest to rid the world of demons. To use that magic they crave to annihilate them totally. But he chose his path... And I must fight this battle.
We land and the troops storm the beach, demons swarming around them. I summon the dark fire, killing some. Banishing other away, I continue to fight. I spot Windcrush fighting in the crowd. I soon see nothing but black abyss. I feel a great pain as a demon impales my form on his spear. I think of Nora, Marrion, my Grandfather... I think of them all, before all fades to-
"CRISIS ON INFINITE MACS!"
Outpost Forty Seven. Noon. MacHarren Science Emergency Message and Music Broadcast Tower. Johnny's Studio. Now.
"Come on... Come on you bloody junk! Work!!!"
With a deep sigh and a heavy head, JOHNNY FROM MARKETING begins to fiddle with the buttons on his communication device. Little does he know, that the fate of countless worlds lies on his slightly itchy hands!
With a loud thump, Johnny smacks his forehead into the table. Soon, a voice would sound from the communications device.
Thirty Miles Out into The Forests of Shadowmoon. Also Now.
"Johnny? Hey, Johnny? What's the problem with the damn communications array? I'm tryin' to listen to some tunes, while I'm working!"
The roar of an engine screams through the untouched forests, alerting numerous species to the presence of Civilization. Botani keep to the shadows. Dire Worgs howl. And MARRION MACHARREN continues to scream at the device in his hand, while his trusted hired butler, JEEVES, steers their two-man motorbike.
"DAMMIT, JOHNNY! I don't wanna hear an excuse... Get the music back online, or I'm gonna fire your ass! ... You know, I'm kidding. I wouldn't fire ya... yeah. Yeah, I know. Just keep off the stuff, okay? Hey! Hey, quiet down... Light! You always snap like this! Just get the damn thing fixed!!!"
Marrion lets out a sigh, as they continue to weave between the trees.
The bike skids off the rough dirt trail, dragging with it an serated rope. Smashing into a tree, the two would barely manage to scuttle from the wreckage, before their assailants made their presence known.
Even after defeat, splinter groups of the Legendary IRON HORDE, continue to fight on in the forests. Tribes hunting those they once tried to conquer, in an almost crude twist of fate. Reaching forward, the Jeeves the Butler presses a red button on the side of the motorbike. Quickly, he'd manage to recover in time to rescue his charge, and usher the both of them over to some bushes nearby. As the native orcs grew closer, the button would begin to glow a dark red, the light pulsing, as the aggressors grew nearer and nearer.
"Nalkoro iuk iav doaumn avhaav?"
Soon, a small beeping noise could be heard, as the pulsing light began to flash faster and faster.
"WAIAV! KURRAUZ AWAA-"
In a short instant, time and space is rend apart, causing a violent implosion that causes even the sturdy trees of Shadowmoon to surge forward, Jeeves and Marrion only being saved by the resulting force of air pushing them back, after the implosion has taken its course.
"Dammit, Jeeves! That was my best prototype yet! Why'd you have to go and press that damn button?! We could've handled them!"
Bleeding from the wound atop his forehead, Marrion slowly reaches into his shoulder bag, pulling out a syringe full of RE-AGENT, a healing tonic so powerful, it has been known to cure even the most grievous of bodily wounds! Slowly gaining his strength back, Marrion rises to his feet, using the stalwart manservant as a crutch, while the tonic began to work its magic!
"Sir, those savages, would've killed us, had they the chance to locate and discover our persons..."
"Not enough Jeeves... Help me back over to the bike, I wanna see how bad the damages are..."
The pair struggle over to the wreckage, only to find a strange portal, lying near the currently mangled oak, that the bike had crashed in.
Perching a brow, the pair edge their way closer to the strange, near-translucent portal. Slowly, a hand begins to emerge from the floating hole in space and time, causing the pair to shirk back in terror!
"Holy crap! JEEVES, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?! Did you activate the QUANTUM DESTRUCT SEQUENCE?!"
"WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE!"
Slowly, the hand would be joined by a torso and leg, followed by the face of... ANOTHER MARRION MACHARREN! What possible madness could this mean? What horrible fate could this bestow on the stream of time and space? Will Johnny from Marketing get the communications array fixed in time for his date with Lisa from Accounting?!
CONTINUED IN: "CRISIS ON INFINITE MACS: PART 3.309: WEIRD SHIT HAPPENS!"