The Wretches in Gilneas

*posters bearing the following message seem to have been spread throughout Gilneas. They're not pinned to trees nor buildings yet are carried across the land by the wind.*

Your leaders words reach our ears through our agents. Your intentions we know. Your future is something we create, or destroy.

This kingdom knew the scars of civil war, you have been torn apart as a people, and changed into a new people, and your leaders claim this lead to you growing stronger? I ask you to look around you! 'Your' kingdom exists no more, merely a wayward province of the Dark Lady’s domain exists. What were once 'your' cities and villages are ruins! What were once 'your' institutions are now defunct! All that remains is a province which we shall reassert our control over. Time is not on your side in this matter! You grow ever older and ever weaker!

Your leaders scream from their wretched lungs that the history of these days will be written in blood! I agree! We Forsaken have no blood circulating through our veins. Yet as your leaders say, the history of these days will be written in blood. In the blood of the Worgen who resist!

You say you hold an inherent right to these lands. We dispute that claim for it is based on delusions. You hold no inherent right to these lands! You hold no rights here at all! Your forefathers, not you, held a right to these lands! But they are no more and now their brethren from Lordaeron shall rule what is rightfully theirs! Your people can live elsewhere if you wish to live or die in the Forsaken province of Gilneas! We do not seek your deaths, we seek our land. Leave and live, or stay and perish. This is the choice our benevolent people and Queen have set before you.

If you do not leave then we shall slaughter your people and shatter your souls and ideas. For can there be Worgen souls, and Worgen ideas, without there being Worgen? We believe it cannot be so. We can, and will, put this theory to the test if you do not do as we demand. Make no mistake either, if we want, we can test this theory with ease.

This ground is not your inherent source of live, you can live just as well off the grounds in the Blasted Lands. We do not wish to exterminate you, we wish our lands. These are our lands by right. By right of conquest, by the right of our status and by our right to exist. You can go elsewhere, but we must create territory to safeguard our existence for we have nowhere else to go. We either dominate these lands through force of arms or through other people seeing their wrongs and granting us their lands. But know this: We shall dominate these lands.

If we must create a barren wasteland and call it peace, so be it.

You call yourself Gilnean, but you are not. The people of Gilneas died when the spawn of Arugal took their kingdom. The king of nothing, Genn Greymane, is not even Gilnean. Gilnean blood no longer courses through his veins, and not through yours. It is the blood of the Worgen, the spawn of Arugal. I call you the wretches in Gilneas for it is factually wrong to call you the wretches of Gilneas!

Join your king, the king of nothing, far away from our province. Heal the wounds of your civil war, for they have not healed. Yours is a house divided against itself. Let my words be a testament to the fact that your leaders dare not acknowledge in public.

OOC:

Didn't feel particularly inspired but I had some time to kill. I kind of like what I managed to make in an uninspired mood. It should also be noted that this is a response to what Gunnell wrote in "Life & Unity" and "Sons and Daughters of Gilneas".

I hope you enjoyed reading it!

*Bern watches the papers fly in the air and snatches one with his undead hands*
"Bern?"
*Bern eats the paper and sticks out his black rotten tongue, scraping it with a vile sharpened bony finger. He nods frantically in approval. He digs some earth from the ground and with a flicker of magic, sculpts it into a crude wolf figurine. He tosses the figurine in the air and blasts it with a tiny ball of fire.*
"BURN!!" he shouts and begins to hop around, half dancing, half running.
"By Bern Bern Bern Bern!"

Quite delusional, and frankly it's rather easy to use parts of that speech against the claim of the Forsaken on Lordaeron.

Perhaps, but I never preached the Forsaken really having the moral high ground or being fair now did I? It's simple realpolitik, no more, no less.

*Marilissia reads over the literature with her limited knowledge of Forsaken picking out key terms, she ignites it in holy fire.*

"That whore Sylvanas is getting desperate it seems.."

*Kristeas stands in front of the broken wall at the southern edge of Silverpine, managing to stand on one of the posters as they blow by on the ground.*

"I wonder when this was printed, maybe it's what made them leave."

*Kristeas looks at the huling abominations as they mindlessly wander around*

"I suppose all the brains are working their presses."

While wandering around Stormwind Isabis was given the note, after reading it a touch of anger disrupted Isabis, she said:

“Living or dead, pride will have a fall”

Isabis passed the note to a Gilnean.

( I really loved your story. Very nicely done )