📓 Chasing Shadows

It has been a long decade since the Third War's conclusion. A long decade of rebuilding, nursing wounds, and grieving for those lost to the predations of the most abominable beings our world has ever known: The Undead and Demons. This has been an era of tribulations unlike any other, and there is not a soul alive who might say their life was untouched.

We won. By steel, faith, and fire, the people of Azeroth have persisted.

This in mind, how can any of us abide the presence of those who kneel to these very same diabolical powers? How can we, with keepsakes of heroes on our walls and over our mantles, permit servants of the most inimical powers existent work black rites within our very own neighborhoods, inside our own walls? We cannot, and brave souls have ensured that we will not!

Dear reader, this is not fanciful doomsaying. I am writing of grim truths brought to light by diligent souls, those who are nobly interested in the maintenance of our fair city and civilization. Only days ago, the duly elected Stormwind City Councilor Rhien put forth her first edict: The capture or killing of one Jarlief, a self-described warlock. She was made aware of his existence - under her and the watch's noses - by concerned and faithful citizens, and she did not balk or disbelieve, but investigated, and came to the same dire conclusions as they.

Jarlief, a man whose origins are a mystery, rose to prominence by his sordid work in the criminal underworld of Stormwind City. He wore his evil plainly, with horns protruding from his forehead and the stench of sulfur following in his wake. His evil visage, and his unnatural talent for the black arts, surely aided him as he leveraged a place for himself among the City's most wretched. It shall never be known how many victims suffered under his predations, or how many supplicants took on the arts under his tutelage, save that both counts shall be too high, no matter the number.

Brave citizens of Stormwind, following on the reports of their fellows and the mandate of the newly instated Councilor, sought the warlock and his fellow cabalists. Several nights passed, and it can thankfully be said that they were not spent in vain. A number of practitioners were turned out and tried for their crimes, assayed by priests and found to contain the taint inherent to such magic.

This work culminated with the discovery of Jarlief himself, and a frantic chase across the city, wherein our heroes persisted through their grit and their desire for justice. All his nefarious spell-craft, though potent and dangerous, could not dissuade them. He flung himself through, of all places, the doors of the Holy Cathedral of the Light, intruding on that sanctuary in his mad bid to escape. He tore past all the laity and clergy, like a beast fleeing the huntsman's horn, and scurried into the darkness of the catacombs.

There, in the deep, his pursuers caught up with him and cornered him. He was slain, as justice demanded, and his body sanctified and interred so that he might never threaten our world again.

Death, of course, is not a matter to be spoken of lightly, but we mustn't become complacent, my friends, not when horned devils lurk in the alleys of our city still. The consequences of such complacency are evident in the scars that mark Azeroth, are they not?

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