Lore events are fun. Many people remember the Zombie Invasion less than fondly (and to be honest, it deserved the mixed reviews it got), but it did nothing if not spawn a lot of really amazing RP. The Riders made their stand outside of the Pig and Whistle, with other folks moving as the front moved on that last night, when utter chaos erupted.
The first time Aely told this story, it was at Tarquin’s request – something she took extremely seriously from him, being that he’s known for being the Rider’s Official Bloody Long Storyteller. That he’d have enough faith in her to tell this, a story that was still having major repercussions in Azeroth and Northrend, was a huge boost to her confidence.
And, in a way, it was the kickoff point for that event being even more personal for her. Because of The Longest Night, she wears the Black and Red of the Riders. That longest night was the night of October 27-28 of last year, and so last night Aely threw a party to commemorate a year since its passing. A year that Stormwind still stands, and that the fight against the Lich King continues.
This is the speech she gave (from the chatlog of last night):
Aelflaed hops up on the cannon, levering herself off the corner
Aelflaed raises her voice a little, to catch the crowd.
Anyroad – wanted t’ thank ye all f’r comin t’night – ‘specially oan short notice f’r some. Some ay ye ken why we’re here, others ‘re jus’ here f’r th’ party – an’ I’m glad f’r all ay ye.
Year ago t’night we saw th’ near destruction ay this city – ay th’ home wha’ we’ve come t’ know – whether by choice air by birth. Streets littered wi’ corpses, only t’ have ’em rise again.
Started ’bout a week earlier – wi’ plagued grain. All oe’r th’ kingdoms, unmarked crates ay tainted grain showed up – frae ships wha’ nobody could find. An’ like wildfire, it spread – inflictin’ folk wha’ lived e’en throw th’ last plague.
An’ so we set up th’ Pig an’ Whistle f’r a safe house – f’r a place t’ stay wha’ dinnae have th’ ever growin’ horde ay zombies. Nae food wha’ wisnae already procured – nae water wha’ wisnae boiled, an’ a watch w’s set. All hours ay th’ day an’ night folk stood ay th’ pig. Some sleepin in’ bunks – some oan th’ floor, an’ all th’ time th’ city fell.
Muir an’ muir th’ plague spread – ’till only th’ Pig stood left, th’ last ay th’ safe houses, an’ e’en th’ Cathedral w’s overrun wi’ walkin’ dead.
Aelflaed points at the water in the harbor behind her.
Th’ water ay th’ harbor an’ th’ canals choked wi’ bodies – stench risin’ ay disease until ye could /smell/ th’ dead flyin’ in.
Stormwin’ w’s a city doomed.
Th’ las’ night w’s th’ Longest Night.
I was there, an’ Jolly, an’ Beltar. Tiforis, Ulthanon, Varenna. Folk we ken an’ folk we dinnae ken stood t’ fight here oan th’ Docks, an’ back in Old Town.
We littered th’ streets wi’ dead, burnin ’em t’ keep frae walkin again – an’ ’round ’bout th’ third watch, up came a cry. Delion comes flyin’ ’round th’ corner, Banner ay th’ Dawn flyin’ o’er his head an a whole horde ay dead chasin’ after ‘im.
An’ they fell.
An he made it, untouched, t’ th’ stairs ay th’ pig, an’ we put th’ lot ay them t’ rest, burnin’ in the streets wi’ th’ rest ay their murderous, shufflin’ band.
Aelflaed points at the tattered Argent Dawn banner, now scribbled in Common and Darnassian.
Th’ banner made it too.
An somehow, as th’ dawn broke oe’r a half ruined, scorched, stinkin’, disease infested Stormwind… it all stopped. Rays ay sunlight – th’ first’ in weeks – fell oan th’ exhausted faces oan those steps. Exhausted – but ALIVE.
Tha’ mornin’ we swore. We swore oan th’ banner, oan th’ black an’ red, oan our very lives an’ what’er we had t’ swear oan – Never Again.
We swore it then.
A huge chorus of whoops and yells, of “Never Again” in every tongue of the Alliance interrupts the speech. Aely keeps momentum raising her voice over the din.
An’ we swore it oan th’ docks headin’ north. We swore it oan th’ snows ay Wintergarde, an’ th gates ay Ulduar, an th’ frozen rocky outcrops ay th Dragonblight – Facin’ down th’ army ay him who we’ve bound our lives t’ hunt. We swore it then – we swear it now. In remembrance, an’ th’ memory ay wha is behind – an hope f’r wha’ is before us.
‘Cause th’ hounds ay death follow in th’ footsteps ay th’ Bloody Prince – an dog th’ heels ay any wha’ dare t’ stand against ‘im. Good folk, strong – an’ fair hearted. Human an’ Elf, Dwarf, an’ Gnome, an’ Draenei alike. In th’ onslaught t’ fight back Fightin’ t’ secure th’ folk back home. F’r th future. F’r wee ones an old ones, an’ lands ay our fathers an’ our kin.
Aelflaed gestures at Naiara Bittertongue, sleeping in the arms of her mother.
So we remember ’em. We grieve, an’ we fight oan. W’s a year ago we fir’s faced ‘im again – an’ it bloody well willnae be annither year ‘fore we clear ‘im out.
Remember tha’, t’night. Remember them – by their names an’ their deaths.
An’ remember – Never again.
Aelflaed hops off the canon.
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