User:Veritech5/Esconder Verrington

''Ridiculous, was all he could think— was all he ever thought! How ridiculous this was; He’s been reduced to serving drinks to this fat, has-been noble!'' He reached across the counter and plucked three ornate glasses from the finely crafted wood counter and began to polish them with a rag he had held with my other hand. His teeth gnashed angrily as thoughts of killing every last one of these nobles churned inside his head. He slammed the glasses back onto the counter, and something like cracking could be heard—He didn’t care, regardless. And he walked toward a staircase to his left that led downward into the cellar.

A veil of darkness washed over him as he left the sunlit room above and descended into the dark, dank cellar that housed the many bottles of the house’s best wine and beer. He stuffed the wash cloth into the belt around his waist and glided a hand to another item fastened to his poorly made leather belt and came to a set of keys.

The keys jingled and clanked against each other as he unlatched it from his belt and brought it upward to the entrance that was swimming toward him in the darkness as he walked to it; he made it to the door and fitted one of the keys into the hole and turned it to the right. He heard the clicking noise indicating the door had successfully unlocked and palmed the wood surface of the door and pushed.

The door creaked open and the pitch-blackness of the cellar was there to greet me. ..

He and his folks were happy in Strahnbrad until the nobles came and harvested us from our home. Now his family was scattered across the many manors that plagued this rotten Kingdom, all in the same state as he, catering to the whims of those over them.

He shook his head and managed to find a lantern, hanging from a wrought-iron hook, and lit it. And as he proceeded into the cellar, the shadows shrank back and fled from the blazing light of the lantern. The numerous, dusty flagons of different shades of amber and red received flickering light as he walked along the many isles of old, rickety wooden shelves containing the maturing liquids—looking for a specific make.

A label that was not the same as the rest caught his eye and he turned sharply to face it while setting the lantern down onto the dusty ground. He took in a minute exhale of the stale air and leaned in to examine it— it was a bottle of poison. Slowly, as his eyes frenziedly inspected bottle, his mouth would curl up into a sadistic grin as his eyes bulged.

After the mysterious bottle of poison was found amidst the mead and wine, it was all a blur. He snuck upstairs to the noble’s sleeping quarters. While the great loaf was asleep, the vengeful servant covertly tipped the content of the bottle into his drink that was already conveniently on the nightstand.

He decapitated the aristocrat and as the blood of the slain dripped everywhere and stained the floor as well as his hand, a cruel, and evil thought grew within his mind: he would place the bleeding stump of a head on the Lady’s dinner platter, and when she lifted it up. . . well, her reaction will be precious.

He grinned widely with mirth as he marched, cleaned up from his sticky job earlier, with covered dinner plate in hand and slid it onto the table before the noble’s lady. He placed a hand to the top of the gilded silver of the cover over the food and lifted it, revealing his surprise for the missus. His eyes bulged as they beheld her reaction to it, and started to laugh as the clatter of her silverware echoed around the halls and then Esconder, the vengeful servant, lashed out at her with a dinner knife. He took the seal of nobility from them and threatened the other servants a painful death if they dared run. They all were his now; he was the Noble.

He was the noble for seemingly no time at all when the vile Alliance and their lapdogs, the Paladins, stripped him and the rest of the nobles of Alterac of their titled, wealth, and land:

{{Book||content=

BE IT NOW KNOWN that the individual called Lord Aiden Perenolde and every known ally (see attached list), due to their association with the vile Horde during the war and their traitorous actions toward the Alliance and her citizens, shall be stripped of all land, holdings and wealth and known hereafter as traitors to the Alliance. They shall forfeit all rights to citizenry in the Alliance. Indeed, they are considered enemies of all citizens of Lordaeron. Let no good people of this land show them hospitality, mercy or sanctuary. Consider the honor they gave the Alliance and her citizens, and treat them no better.

So said in this seventh year of the new Alliance.

Sir Uther Lightbringer of the Knights of the Silver Hand. }}

Esconder did not take this ‘dethroning’ well, nor did any of the other nobles for that matter and like the rest; he joined the Syndicate, which was under the rule of none other than Lord Aiden Perenolde.