In the dusk of a late-winter night, lost souls may stumble through the darkness of Stormwind’s back alleys and hidden passages. For most, it is unclear what these shadows look for, but for others it is very apparent. Late last night while following the canals home, I heard a raucous in the distance. A faint yelling coming from within the mage quarter that only grew louder as I stood paralyzed with curiosity. Emerging from stone-wrought passages came a procession of uniform appearance: dark gowns with cloaks drawn and faces masked by the dim light. In single file they marched, tending to the side streets and alleys that I’ve come to know so well. A sewer grate stood little obstacle for the march, welcomed even as an escape from the city proper and leading to the forest beyond.



What sort of reporter would I be if I were not to follow?

The forest of Elwynn slowed them not, despite the darkness they insisted upon proceeding in. Even as oak and cherry gave way to brush and bramble beneath those decrepit trees come Duskwood, the parade only grew in fervor. The laugh of one of their members, an incessant giggling from beneath dark mask, will haunt me forever more. Hushed cries sounded out from their ranks, “The Whispered One watches.” What nefarious game was at foot here?

Ere long, the ruinous pageantry settled in round the shores of a twilit lake, deep within the boughs of that dark forest. It was there I witnessed what black arts lie within the heart of Stormwind. The shades stood on the mired shores and cast themselves into the murky depths. A flask unclasped, swirling black and flecked with silver, they imbibed themselves into a stupor beneath the waters. Sleep took them even as lungs sputtered for air and life seemed to leave their mortal vessels. And yet one still stood, watching as lifeless companions rose to the surface. Her voice pierced that night, the silence broken at last: “Hail C’thun.” A command issued with no choice but to obey. I fled into the night, praying my presence remained unknown, as those drowned bodies stirred.



I sought refuge in Darkshire, the safety of that grand hamlet doing nothing to quell my nerves, as sleep never took me that night. I sit here now recounting this tale to you, dear reader, a tremble still in my hand. Beware what lurks in the night.

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