Response: Confirmed/Prospective 3/11 Tavern Night Attendees

[Darren Tereos]

The night sky was dull, the stars only just visible through the clouds and thick tree cover of Tirisfal Glades. In the distance the muffled whispering of wings could be heard, along with the occasional screeches: tell-tale signs of the over-sized bats frequenting the Glades. A tall wooden structure seemed weave ever so slightly in the air. Though, from the blurred vision and aching head, the condition of the viewer might have as much to do with the perceived movement as the structure.

“Get up, you. Sleeping is for the living and the lazy.” It was a deathguard. The sneer was either disdain or the rictus mask of rigor mortis. The varieties of deaths suffered by the Forsaken made absolute determination difficult. But, the tone of voice made it clear that compliance was the only option.

Dayari Antarios, rogue and wanderer, took stock of his situation. He was lying prone, on the rough stone paving by the zeppelin tower. His bones seemed undamaged, but there was the slight feeling of discomfort, something between pain and the stretching of leather across too much a surface. Something had happened though to result in this unusual event.

Looking upward, as he collected his appendages into working order. Orienting upon the nearby deathguard, Dayari ventured, “I fell?”

“Like a rock.” The ensuing laughter was neither kind nor reassuring. Nor did the tower guard make a move to assist Dayari to his feet.

“I don't usually fall here.” Dayari attempted to connect the string of memories to trace how he found himself to be at his present location. There had been the zeppelin from Vengeance Landing. He had jumped from the zeppelin to save time. Falls were usually simple. One walked off of solid ground and moments latter reconnected with other, solid ground. This time, something was different though. He hadn't connected with his feet. “I fell?”

“You said that already.” The sneer deepened.

“Oh. Did something happen?”

“Another tremor. They've been happening for a while now. Get yourself up and out of here before I send you over to play with the apothecaries.”

Dayari remembered. As he had steadied himself to fall, minimizing the impact, the ground had seemed to lurch upward at him, as if to shake him off like some unwelcome flea. His footing had erred and he had found himself stumbling and eventually on his back. As he now righted himself, he carefully avoided the malevolent gaze of the deathguard and walking toward the depths of the Undercity. Dayari was unable to shake the feeling that something was amiss. The ground did not move of its own accord. Whatever caused it to move was of concern. But, as with most of this Forsaken's worries, it was fleeting and soon forgotten. Azeroth still trembled however, and Dayari was afterward just a tiny bit more careful in his descents from the zeppelin towers.