The emergency portals threw us into the confused throngs of Sunreaver civilians not long before Dalaran’s take-off forced them shut entirely. People scrambled through the Main Lobby of the Spire in a confused stampede to try and find family and friends, hoping for their survival.
Who had betrayed us? Had we been betrayed? Had we been the betrayers, after so long?
Eventually I made it into the Court of the Sun, and after a while so did the rest of the Convocation. Guards scurried around in greater numbers, keeping civilians from seeing the debacle that was ongoing. We were told to go get some rest and regroup in the morning. I did not have much hope of doing the former, as my quarters were past the Main Lobby. After penning a quick letter home to let my parents know I was safe, I teleported up to my office.
The propaganda had been different, but the propaganda that was ordered after the Sunreaver Exile was… something else.
Silvermoon’s political position on the Sunreavers for the last four years had been ‘ignore them unless they’re useful.’ Now, suddenly, every aspect of a Silvermoon-orchestrated plight was being defended by Silvermoon, the only true defenders of the elves were the elves, we had to stand together more than ever… Mention of the Horde was gone, mention of Garrosh was gone. I didn’t understand.
Why would Garrosh suddenly be our enemy? Was he responsible?
As the hours passed, and the propaganda multiplied and silently appeared all over Silvermoon, I felt my pity for the Sunreavers subside, replaced only with anger. They had continued to aid us, and that had resulted in their exile. I was angered just as much towards the Horde for how it had resulted in the sudden homelessness of them, however.
My anger found new targets the next morning, but it did not abate.
‘The Horde announces the death of Anduin Wrynn…’
‘Success of new warfare…’
‘Destruction of the Divine Bell…’
The Divine Bell. The missing piece of the puzzle. We had delivered clues about its location to the Spire just days before our excursion to Northrend. The Bell had been in Alliance hands. Yet Garrosh had used it, killed Anduin Wrynn, and it had been destroyed… The Sunreavers were our closest ties to the Alliance. Their leadership, it appeared, was not so innocent. So I fumed further.
The Spire closed for the day. Production of everything halted, while the Magisterium took stock of the sudden influx. I retired to my quarters, awaiting call from the Convocation. Upon my bed, I found a letter.
To the children of Quel’thalas,
Surely by now you have heard of what transpired at Dalaran. Your kind, whether allied with the Sunreavers or not, were purged once more into the prisons – or, if they resisted, killed. This action was abhorrent on the part of those in the Alliance who permitted and encouraged it. But its cause lies closer to home.
The order which implied the Sunreavers as, in Dalaran’s eyes, criminals was given by none other than Garrosh Hellscream. And to suggest that he did not know what would happen would be to give him very little credit. He is not stupid – he is malicious. And he aims to drive your people into the ground.
Sylvanas plays a role in exerting your people beyond their capacity… but she far from acts alone. Let us not forget news from the front that in the Valley of the Emperors in the Kun’lai Mountains, Garrosh ordered a unit of civilian archaeologists and only a handful of soldiers to investigate a site within a raging warzone, without informing them that it was so. If this does not imply trying to get them killed, I do not know what would – and it is far from an isolated incident.
You know you do not fit his people’s ideas of strength. Every jeer you face when you serve alongside Hellscream’s people shows that, as do his own sneers whenever he stands before your troops… He seeks to end you and prove his dreadfully incorrect point, in one go. He knows you need time to recover; he knows you cannot afford to give the troops he demands. He leaves your homelands unprotected and then threatens to withdraw his support if you do not comply with his requisitions.
However, not all orcs abide by his despicable conduct. Many of us know how it is to have homelands and familie left vulnerable by the demands of an indifferent warchief. And we do not wish to see that repeated – not outside our own people, or anywhere. We wish to overthrow this Warchief and reforge the Horde into an alleigance who will assist the defence of Quel’thalas out of wanting to see your people safe… Who will see the Blood Elves as a part of itself, as brothers and sisters and equals, not as a resource to be manipulated to its own ends.
If you agree with these ideas, then watch the skies. We will need your help if we are to succeed in what we are going to try and do.
Stay vigilant. Burn after reading.
– The Burning Heart
I read the letter several times, and it went on for several pages. Garrosh was to blame, of course… but I doubted the leadership of Silvermoon. It was weak, and it had allowed these wounds to fester just as much as it had been paralysed to do nought else. I was… unsure. I was not about to threaten my family by helping overthrow the regime.
Shortly after I burnt the letter, a knock sounded at my door.
One of the Upper Spire’s messengers, a thin, pallid man with a permanent sneer, looked around before staying just outside the door.
‘Miss Dawndancer. A… pleasure, as always. Now, my messages are brief. I’m afraid the Magisterium will be permanently removing you from your post as 2nd Head of Official Propaganda, effective immediately. Your quarters are also to be requisitioned. You have ten minutes to remove any property from the room you do not with the Magisterium to keep, although the Magisterium reserves the right to requisition all your property should it suspect it was used for criminal activity.’
…My jaw dropped open, and I stared at him for several seconds. The elderly magister appeared to enjoy my reaction, taking it in with a snide smirk before beginning his next message. ‘And Archon Amaran requests your presence at Elrendar Sanctuary at 7 this evening. Good day.’
With a grim laugh, he left.
Why? Of all the things… I sat there for about five minutes, utterly confused as to why I was a criminal, threw all my books and potions into a bag and teleported to the other side of the city, making my way through the southwest gate and across the riverside to the Sanctuary, private property of the Convocation.
Within, an uneasy tension had settled over the silent members of the Convocation. The recent upheaval of the last few days had left more than a few unnerved… It had left me homeless.
‘You are no doubt wondering what is going on. After our efforts in Dalaran, the Reliquary has… accused us of war crimes. The Sunreavers are backing them up.’
Outrage pulsed through the room, and argument quickly broke out. I joined in, seeing as how the accusations were entirely true.
‘Silence!’ Sorlain waited for the room to settle. ‘The Magisterium is eager to not let this dent its reputation. I and Kal’es have taken full responsibility for the events, and will be punished by suppression collars and public whipping.’
Outrage continued, as the detailing of the loss of a third of our resources and temporary banishment from our laboratories was followed by a mission to Desolace, which would remove us from the political spheres long enough for everything to die down.
‘Desolace? That’s in the middle of nowhere!’
The arguments grew louder and louder until my head hurt and I stopped talking. Out of the blue, Relcha leapt at Sorlain, demonic aspects suddenly appearing on her, and the vials in the room shattered, toxic gases forcing us out into the hazy twilight perpetuating the courtyard. Curses filled the murky night air with our confused torment, aided by the clash of steel on claw and the wavy noise of magic.
(OOC: Credit for the ‘Burning Heart’ letter goes to Ursala of Sha’tar-EU: http://eu.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/6443805335 http://www.ask-ursala.tumblr.com)