An End To A Year


“A friendly spar was called, and so we answered. Many members of the Horde turned out and spent the night engaged in blood sport, testing their skills against one another. From the sidelines a number of us watched, using the time and entertainment as a means to network. -U”



By Order Of High Command: Happy Holidays


“The rotters in High Command have a twisted sense of humor. For yet another year the observation of Winter’s Veil has been passed down to us via High Command as a mandatory celebration. The mentality behind such an order is simple – remind us that we are to jump when told. The typical spin is that the parties and festive interactions boost morale, and that low morale troops are subject to recycle. And so like every year, we host a small awkward holiday party and exchange gifts. -U”

Happy Holidays! UCN Gift Exchange


DATE: Dec 19th @ Tavern Night

OOC: Gift exchange rules are as follows!

Only people giving a gift may get a gift. Gifts must not be junk items, and may not exceed in vaue of 10,000 gold. Acceptable gifts include rare pets, crafted toys, unique potions, and more. Players / Characters must be attending the Tavern Night to take part, ugly sweaters are optional but encouraged.

Dance Of The Dead 2016

“With the Legion baying at the gates now is not the hour to fritter away life, limb, and precious resources. Yet the malice, mistrust, and simmering rage between the Alliance and Horde results in a battle lust that must be sated. Hence, the Forsaken’s annual great hunt has been stayed in favor of less internecine sport. A cathartic bloodletting is called for, one to determine who truly fields the greatest of champions.

The People of Lordaeron and their Dark Lady’s ascent to prominence within the Horde is an event to be lauded (or bemoaned) for many. With the specter of the Burning Legion casting a long shadow over all the free peoples of Azeroth, this event has resulted in a need to find comfort in the bloody embrace of violent tradition! As is every year, the annual festival known as The Dance of the Dead, a reincarnation of an ancient seasonal celebration that started in Caer Darrow will be observed.

Join us under the mantle of our glorious new Warchief, our great Dark Lady, the Queen of Lordaeron for an evening of revelry and glory!”

OOC Thank you for yet another great Dance Of The Dead!


Daggit’s Camp – Stormheim


((This is an epilogue to the event ‘Blues’.))

The fog was too thick to see anything, but the loud bang of gunshots was enough to turn heads down at Daggit’s camp. The old dreadguard captain himself walked to the barricade protecting his tents and frowned, gazing up to the cliffs.

“Damn the weather,” he mumbled, and began to pace. “Damn the beasts.” His internal dialogue continued where his tongue could not: And damn me, too. Resorting to mercenary help- what an embarrassment..

As Daggit began to pace, muttering to himself, his dreadrider came up behind him. She eyed his motions for a moment, canting her head- and soon enough, spoke, adjusting her goggles on her half-charred face. “Captain, the weather’s due to get worse,” Aggie reminded him. “We need to act. I know we’re desperate for help, but the worgen already have an advantage.”

Daggit covered his face with a palm, and dragged it down and away. “Right. Well.” He let out a sigh, and shook his head. After a long pause, looking over his camp, he crossed his arms. “If we don’t hear from the hired help by the hour’s toll, we’ll take cover in the ships. If they’ve been swarmed by the Gilneans, hopefully they’ve at least weakened them. And by then- what are you looking at?”

Daggit followed Aggie’s gaze over his shoulder- watching the small band of ‘mercenaries’ make their way back. “..well I’ll be damned,” muttered the dreadguard.

“Job’s done. We put down th’ dogs fer ya. Had ta shake ’em outta th’ trees, but it’s over,” drawled the golem, patting the dead worgen he had over his shoulder. “The rest of ’em are burnin’. This one, I’m gonna go pelt.”

Dreadrider and dreadguard both stared on, blinking. “’re certain?” Aggie asked.

The towering figure nodding down to the dreadguard. “Ya’ll should be fine, fer now. We even took care’a the glaive thrower.” He paused before leaving, if just to say: “I’ll let command know ya’ll are without a paddle out ‘ere.”

Aggie and Daggit exchanged glances, before the captain let out a little chuckle. “…you have my appreciation, then. Dark Lady watch over you.”

Report on Recent “Malfunctions”

With recent review, the odd messages that have been coming through the communicators are not in fact, malfunctions. They are not breaches either. I am currently conducting more tests to figure out the actual nature of these messages, but there are a few potential theories that I am working on proving. Any information regarding the whereabouts of members can prove useful, but only during the actual events.

~Aelmus Deklavar, Quartermaster of the Nexus

Deployment: Hammerfall

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“We knew it was only a matter of time before we were issued order to ride out, most of us separately and scattered to the wind among other units. I pulled strings, and did what I must through some red tape magic to keep most of the rotters under the bones together as a unit for this assignment.  As we have done for for years, we rallied in the ruins and from there received our shadow blessing. The blessing was granted to us by our War Priest, Grim. From there we rode, to face the horrors that awaited on a forward front in the field at Hammerfall. -#1971U”

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