[RP] The colors of Stormwind - by Nimarae

In a conversation that appears rather pleasant, Ambassador Brightshield and Ambassador Blacksun sit at their desks, wine flowing and documents being finalized. A contrast to the somewhat slumping Farstrider that runs in to the office, his bow over his shoulder.

"Anything amiss with the expedition, ranger? I assume the group has not returned from their mission yet?"

Shaking his head, attempting to catch breath, both Ambassador's frown turns to one of concern as the Farstrider speaks.

"I was ordered to report back to you, Sir, Madam. The expedition has been assaulted by a human war party in Stranglethorn Valley. They greatly outnumbered us and Sir Darkwind has immediately called for retreat. Two of the group got injured and I have scouted ahead to inform you."

A swift glance of understanding is shared amongst the Ambassadors.

"Did they wear any colors, ranger?"

The ranger swiftly nods. "They did, Sir, they wore the Stormwind colors, but it could have been a cover, as many a death knight filled their ranks. One of the Farstriders has shadowed them back to their lands as ordered, Sir."

Sharply snapping at her footman, Ambassador Blacksun stands up from her cushioned chair. "Arrange for a sin'dorei war party, choose those amongst the Farstrider ranks that are best at keeping a low profile. Have them teleported as closeby as they see fit. See to a group of healers to await the expedition at Silvermoon's gates upon their return and have their injuries tended to. Their expedition will have to be postponed. And have the ranger here brought to a medic and patched up."

"The mistreatment of our kin in Stranglethorn will be avenged."

Her beautiful footman swiftly leaves her office to follow the orders, her gaze lingers on his diminishing form until she can no longer see him and the injured Farstrider. Turning to Ambassador Brightshield, the two merely nod as they sat back, the atmosphere now darker, more tense.

***

A rough looking war party of Farstriders, clad in green and grey to move fluently around the area to be infiltrated, seems fairly ill-at-ease in the Ambassador's quarters. Foilage of the woods still in their hair and scratches and small wounds on their exposed face mark they have not even washed up before reporting back, late after the blessed Sun has left the lands.

As they all greet the two Ambassadors, the leader of the war party steps forward.

"Reporting, Sir, Madam." His hand swiftly raises in a salute.

"Speak."

"The scout had seen to the outpost where their party traveled to and we caught up with him swiftly. Upon investigation, it turned out it was a castle where the wounded were brought as well as several rank-and-file members of the host. We entered the barracks and slew down unavoidable assailants and took in position behind the entrance of the castle."

The Ambassadors both nod in earnest. "Continue".

"Swiftly after, mentioned enemy host arrived that had attempted to strike down our expedition. We succesfully managed to injure some, and slay one higher ranking one by the looks of it."

"Are you aware of any name or rank?"

The Farstrider shakes his head quickly, slight disdain edging his expression. "No, M'lady, they all look the same. Smell the same, as well."

"Our colors?"

"Our colors were raised, Sir, Madam; before we left through the woods, our retaliation's success was marked with the proud red and gold of Silvermoon."

The broom that sweeps the office, animated by the Arcane of one of the magical cleaners of the City, leaps up as in victory.