Theramore Gambit

The Theramore Gambit

On the roads and waterways leading to and from the city of Theramore, perched on a razor's edge between the great sea and the sometimes dangerous denizens of Kalimdor, there has been trouble brewing. Merchants passing through the city or making their home have found the roads a dangerous place, made so by a band of Horde bandits that use the murk of the swamp to their advantage.

The attacks have become more common. Jaina Proudmoore has promised to help but some think she's not acting quickly or forcefully enough. The beast that is the monarchy of the Alliance has stirred, and there are rumors that they make take their own action. As for the bandits, some wonder if perhaps these bandits are, in fact, a secret attempt by Thrall to 'renegotiate' the terms of his settlement with Proudmoore. All this going on, as the tearing of the Dark Portal calls away heroes and troops ...

=News from Here and There=

The Aftermath of a Highway Robbery
(By Kyanali)

Guard Sittinputz stood his post on the bridge just outside of Theramore watching frogs hop. His stance wasn’t even remotely rigid or proper as his eyes followed the frolicking frogs with envy. A belly belch rose from deep down in his stomach. He tried to swallow it, but it escaped despite his best efforts, blending right in with the sounds of the swamp frogs.

The rancid aftertaste of Crokolisk Gumbo lingered with the faint remnants of stout, causing a hideous heartburn. The job was downright boring – that was his beef. In fact, he was so sick and tired of it that he did not even notice the woman on horseback careening dangerously towards him.

For a moment, Sittinputz was illuminated by the Light and he thought he was becoming undead. A woman so bright he had to squint, nothing short of a blonde bombshell, dressed in scanty leathers and looking very much like his best fantasies of The Perfect Woman, appeared in his light. She expertly halted her horse mere inches from his face and plopped down gracefully with a purpose. Stepping forward, she poked him in the chest because his eyes were bulging with disbelief, shock and downright lust.

“YOU! Wake up!” Her perfect voice pierced through his cloudy dismay. He jumped to attention and saluted her, words failing, because he did not know what else to do.

“I NEED you!” the blonde bombshell said to him. Well, he just about wet his armor right then and there. What man ever gets to live his fantasy, after all? No one he knew, that’s for sure. His face ruddy, Sittinputz stammered, “Uh, sure, yep. Here??”

The Perfect Woman sighed and remounted her horse. “Follow me, quickly, there’s some trouble out here.” Once she delivered this to him, he realized she meant guard work. Another belch came out, undisguised this time. It made the woman’s eyes roll with impatience.

Sittinputz did not want to get up and go running while this woman rode, so he moved his rump slowly and deliberately. The Bombshell clearly meant work and not play. “What’s got your armor all bunched up anyway?” he asked her with clear mocking skepticism.

“We were attacked, now are you coming or not! Time is wasting and the roads here are no longer safe!” Her command was falling on deaf ears as he smiled at her disrespectfully.

Sittinputz didn’t care about that one bit. His one concern was protecting Jaina and the quiet city of Theramore, which was a piece of cake. Anything beyond that meant fruitless effort and misaligned loyalty, human or not.

He went, but took his sweet time about it, which made the woman bright red in fury. They arrived at the scene of the ambush and he took a sweeping glance and then shrugged. “So whaddya want me to do about it, Lady?”

“Don’t you even care that the caravans bring supplies to your city?” she spat at him.

He shrugged nonchalantly and muttered, “Filthy merchants - just another bunch of lowlife worms if you ask me.”

“Excuse me!?” Kennia said with flashing eyes.

“Nuthing.” He took out a notebook and wrote a few token sentences, making sure she couldn’t see. “I’ll turn in a report.”

Kennia could smell the stale and spicy gaseous ale mix coming from this man’s relieving belch. “You do that,” she said, and rode off in disgust to vent to the rest of the Tigers. Something clearly needed to change in Theramore, and Kennia was going to make sure that happened.

As she rode into the sunset, Sittinputz smiled and crumpled up the report and threw it into the swamp for the Croks to digest, hoping it would cause them indigestion. It was the least he could do to return the favor.

Von Surveys the Damage
(By Vonnacht and known only by those involved please)

Von grimaced as he surveyed his fellow Tong members. The staged attack certainly looked genuine, that was for sure. He'd managed to escape with bruises, as had several comerades, but one Tiger had ended up losing a lung and was out of action for some time. He'd have to pay the Horde members a visit and make sure they spoke to the wounded, and apologised. He lit a cigarette and plotted the future. The increased Alliance presence in Theramore would, on the surface, cause problems, but if the people running the town owed their position and survival to the Tong, it would be no bad thing.

He stepped out into the cool Menethil Morning, intent on sharing a joke with his fellow associates, and planning the next stage. 'A little bruising's worth it, even one-lunged Del will understand his sacrifice when the money starts pouring in...'

Lodging Complaint in Stormwind
(By Taijiang

Arragon T. Weasell (the Third) scribbled in an answer in the amusing word game he’d been working on at his desk all morning, his coffee cup almost empty. Since he’d become Trade Minister for the monarchy, he’d managed to get quite good at these little puzzles; the trick was to not focus on any particular ... He frowned as he heard raised voices in the front room, voices getting louder. He glanced at the clock and pursed his lips. Too early to make an exit for lunch down along the canals …

In the midst of contemplating how to avoid any hard work, Weasell was as quite surprised when the door to this office flung open with a bang, and in barged a well-dressed, dark-skinned bald man, followed by his meekly protesting secretary. It was the merchant, Jiang, and he didn’t look happy.

Jiang glowered at Weasell, stopping right in front of the bureaucrat’s large desk and holding up a red cloak. The secretary, realizing he wasn’t accomplishing much, looked helplessly to Weasell. Jiang thundered, “This … this is what the Alliance allows to happen to honest merchants?!” With this, he wriggled a finger through a fairly large hole in the cloak (a hole that, as best as Weasell could determine from a life lived within the stone walls of Stormwind, had been made by a bullet).

Jiang balled up the cloak and flung it on the desk, partially covering the half finished and now forgotten game. Leaning forward, Jiang put one hand on the desk and pointed the other at Weasell, “That’s the third caravan in a fortnight! Do you know what those Horde bandits are costing us?! How the fel do you expect us to get supplies to the army camps if we can’t even get out of Dustwallow Marsh without being robbed?!” With this, Jiang banged his hand on the table, making Weasell’s coffee mug jump.

Jiang continued, clearly furious, “Just last night we were attacked again! My wife, Kennia, got some of the soldiers to come out and investigate, so I’m sure there’s a report filled out in triplicate somewhere on someone’s desk but …” Jiang banged his fist again, “ … I’m tired of reports and trying to get the Theramore guard to handle this. It is time that the Alliance take a firm hand there.” Jiang paused at this, sizing up Weasell. He then straightened, rubbing his chin and making a show of exhaling, “I’m wasting my breath here, aren’t I? Busy man like you …”  Jiang let his gaze linger on the corner of the word puzzle as he picked up the cloak, before glancing up deliberately at Weasell, “Maybe I should take this up to the Keep …”

Weasell stood up, unconsciously wiping a bead of sweat from the side of his face, and scuttled around the desk. Putting his hands up and stepping in front of the dark man, he licked his lips nervously, “Now, now … no need to be hasty. I’m sure I can help in this matter. Now what is this about attacks outside Theramore?” Jiang raised an eyebrow, in apparent disbelief, “You’re telling me you haven’t heard? More than one company and more than one caravan has been robbed along that road. Surely …” The tone of disgust was clear in Jiang’s voice.

Weasell hurried to nod in agreement, though truth be told he had heard no such thing. Still, Jiang was known to be well-connected. Best to play this off. He replied, in his most assuring tone, “Of course I’ve heard of the attacks. I meant these attacks last night … it seems Mister Pyhole here …” With this, Weasell shot a dark look at the secretary, who now looked simultaneously as if he were trapped and as if he were about to be sick to his stomach. Weasell continued, “ … has neglected to gather all the reports and supply them to me. Regardless …” The minister turned to Jiang again, “Your point is well taken. Perhaps Theramore needs a change of leadership.” He raised his eyebrows in attempt to be conspiratorial with Jiang.

Jiang frowned and shook his head, “Change in leadership? Don’t be a fool man. Who would advocate that Proudmoore be relieved of duty?” Weasell felt his lungs collapse with the weight of concern that word might get out of what he’d just suggested. Jiang shook his head, “It’s not a matter of change. But it is a matter of … assistance.” Finally, Jiang smiled a little, “What that city needs is a Steward, someone who can focus on protecting the routes in and out of the city.”  Jiang nodded, more to himself than Weasell, as he seemed to think out loud, “A military man, no doubt. Someone willing to exert force where needed. An experienced hand in battle and an officer …”

Jiang looked up, as if realizing Weasell was still standing there, “If I were Trade Minister, that’s what I’d be doing. Finding someone to be the protector of the highways and the port …” With this, Jiang glanced down at the cloak. He shook his head and tossed the wadded up cloak to the startled secretary, “Add that to the ‘report’, eh?” Jiang walked out, chuckling to himself, leaving Weasell and Pyhole exchanging confused looks.

It was Weasell who broke the silence, annoyed, “Get me a list of candidates. Can’t be any harm in what he suggests …” Weasell trailed off, not entirely sure, but he was eager to get back to his puzzle and it seemed the easiest course of action. The secretary made some sound as if to protest but Weasell waved his arm dismissively, moving back to his chair, "Shut it, Pyhole. Just do it."

A Light Goes Out and a Columnist Opines
(By Krelle)

A newspaper clipping from the Theramore Herald. It is an editorial by a well known hothead:

LIGHTHOUSE DESTROYED BY ORC BANDITS - WHAT NEXT?

City officials have confirmed to this reporter that the lighthouse was not only damaged in last night's explosion, but virtually destroyed.

"We'll have to tear the whole [censored] thing down and rebuild it," Senior Officer Keegan was quoted as saying. "Everyone saw that big bang at the top, but there were also smaller explosions along the support walls on the inside. The whole structure is unsound now."

Perhaps even more alarming than the property damage was the vandalism. Scrawled along the base of the tower in red paint were the words "HUMANS GO HOME" as well as several smaller comments in Orcish, wihch are apparently disparaging remarks about Archmage Proudmoore's heritage.

The destruction of our lighthouse is only the most recent in a series of events that have unsettled the populace. Only yesterday a large merchant caravan limped back to town after having been ambushed in our own lands.

Messengers to Orgrimmar report that Thrall denies these attacks as being linked to his army, and Archmage Proudmore is calling for calm.

"It's just some hothead bandits," one Orcish merchant in Ratchet, who prefers to remain anonymous, said. "If Thrall wanted you gone, you'd all be dead. No offense."

It is this reporter's opinion that something needs to be done. Our merchants are being waylaid, and now our port has been effectively erased from the sea! There is a deliberate campaign of terror afoot, and our officials are merely sitting on their hands while the neighbouring horde laugh at us.

"No offense?" I AM offended, Mr. Orc! The Alliance has come to Theramore in peace, but if we are attacked thus, our assailants will leave in pieces!

I call for a stronger military presence in Theramore! All true patriots will join me in my call. Let the governor's windows rattle from our shouting - let them see us marching in the streets!

If the officials do not do something soon, then rest assured, the people will.

- Rushleigh Embough

Theramore Intelligence Investigates
(By Dominik)

Dominik struggled a bit and, with some effort and a bit of pain, managed to sit up in bed. It hadn’t even been a week since he got rescued and already the paperwork began to pile up. He sighed. To make things worse, he was bed-ridden indefinitely. He was stuck at this inn room, unable to go anywhere on his own, and the cabin fever was driving him batty. So much of this might have been better taken care of if he could actively direct things. But, he supposed, better to be in this cozy inn than the place he’d been the past three months. That was a hell he’d just as soon never return to.

“That’s the report on the lighthouse attack, Mr. Daleus,” the young militiaman said, “Our commanders figured you’d need to know.”

The blond rogue took the papers in his good hand and reviewed them with minimal struggle. Goblin bombs, Horde sightings along merchant trails, lighthouse had to be reinforced. It was a perfect mess, and with perfect timing. He sighed again. He had no desire to be involved with this right now. Not until he could move again.

If he could move again.

He shook his head. Both Frelle and the old gypsy woman were doing a remarkable job. He was sure he’d be able to get out of bed again sometime…It just might be a while.

“Nobody saw the attackers?” he asked.

“No, sir,” the militiaman responded, “No reports of sightings at all.”

Dominik sighed once more. “Blasted fel, I wish I could leave this damn room,” he muttered.

“Sir?” the militiaman questioned.

“Nothing at all,” the rogue replied, “See if there’re a couple trackers who can investigate. I realize it’s nearly impossible to track across the water, but maybe we can get some idea of the boat used. Anything at all. And see if I have any staff I can dispatch into the swamp to investigate there, too. We could stand to find out where these attackers came from. That should be all for now. Oh, and please tell Janene I’m getting hungry and I’d very much appreciate lunch.”

The militiaman nodded and hurried out.

After the young man left, Dominik slid back down into a prone position and closed his eyes tightly. His injuries, combined with this, and the fires sparking about whether or not to make overtures to Stormwind for support were wearing him down. He still hadn’t gained back most of the weight he’d lost over the last three months, and the stress of having to do work was not helping his recovery along in the slightest. Unfortunately, there was no one else he could have do it. With Alopex’s situation such as it was, he had to give the man some time to find peace and tie up the loose ends.

Another sigh. Then he dozed off, fading in and out of a fitful sleep until Janene arrived with lunch.

Lady Blyde Considers a Course of Action
(By Remia)

The mage crept out of bed early, quietly disengaging herself from her husband's grasp. He slept fitfully and she was surprised that he did not wake. She supposed that exhaustion had finally overtaken him after several days of anguish and rage overtaking his physical vitality. Alkan's murder at the hands the Winvale's toadies ate at her mind for she respected the complex and fascinating shaman greatly. It was a battle to keep calm and keep her plans in motion. But in order for her Calithos's career to progress and for him to gain the backing of the nobles, in his bid to restore some order to Stormwind, she had to continue forward without becoming mired in her own personal grief or rage.

Remia had decided that she would need to gather some intelligence in Theramore in order for Cal's brigade to be in a position that would allow then to gain the upper hand with the bandits that had predated Mister Jiang's trade caravans. Addressing these issues was not simply an act to legitimize the strike force Calithos sought to put together, it was something Remia felt that needed to be done for multiple reasons, some personal, some political and some ethical. The mage had developed a personal fondness for the Jiangs and their commrades. It angered her to see their business being impacted and members of their band being wounded with increasinging frequency while the guards of Theramore did nothing to protect them.

Furthermore, interuption of trade could well have negative consequences in terms of having the supplies needed for the defense of the Alliance most particularly against the Legion. The mage had been at the Dark Portal the day that the call had gone up from the Argent Dawn for reinforcements as the minions of the Eredor had teamed through the portal in a seemingly unending sea. Remia knew it was essential to keep trade open and to stabilize the chaos in Stormwind if they had any hope of standing against the Legion.

Remia quickly dressed in a somber but elegant outfit as she stuffed her packs with the supplies she would need for her trip to Theramore. People respected wealth and she would use that to her advantage as she gathered intelligence in the port city. Remia gathered her pack up and headed to Southshore to book a passage to Theramore long before even the cook was up to prepare breakfast. Upon reaching the port she set to work questioning some of the guards about the attacks as she shared some of the food and spirits she had packed in her hamper to set them at ease. She found that plying the guards with treats and drinks did much to relax them without being an outright bribe. She had learned through her questioning that there had been a recent attack out in the swamps and she had read about the destruction of the lighthouse. The mage could not help but think that these attacks seemed more designed to break the peace in addition to gaining a profit. The next step would be to scout out the roads outside the city to detemine the preferred ambush spots and routes the bandits had taken. For that she would need additional assistance.

=OOC Information=

We'd like to encourage folks to participate in this storyline! We are very open to how this progresses. As Remia stated quite nicely on the ER forums, "This is not an attempt to ICly usurp the roleplaying authority of any who already act in the legal system in Stormwind or elsewhere. This is filling what we see as a gap in any law enforcement body to handle issues and crisis. We have attorneys and judges but no one to deal with situations on the streets or highways."

So, there is clearly an appointment in the works. While several of us are hoping that the appointment succeeds, we want to emphasize that we will purposely leave the authority of this position somewhat grey, so that folks can either RP around it (e.g., 'Stormwind may recognize him, but I won't') or, even better, use it as a basis for even more RP in game.

And, Stewards of Highways and Byways is a completely invented historical position but hopefully one that is viewed as plausible. The intent is essentially an Alliance version of a highway patrol, or the |historical Texas Rangers. The Stormwind position would have no clear authority over Theramore but would likely be accorded some at least grudging respect, at least at first. This should allow Theramore folks who favor Jaina plenty of room to respond, we hope!

If you have concerns or ideas, please do not hesitate to e-mail me at tai AT greytigertong DOT net. Or go ahead and post here!