((So I'm on Emerald Dream/US - an RP-PVP server. I RP as a Bounty Hunter known as "The Black Rose". People hire me in game to fulfill a contract (this one was for 3500 gold), I send a black rose to target I'm going to hit, then track them down in the world and kill them. I usually try to make a show of it, and this was probably the best one to date, so I thought I'd share. Link to the story on the forums as well as below here.
For anyone curious, this is also the try-hard rogue that ganked Swifty. He ruins around dread wastes with the stupid powerful buffs from the Klaxxi dailies popping killing spree on targets. He is horrible.
Thanks for the feedback and positivity everyone, I'm glad people can still appreciate a one-off video like this. I'm sorry that this was rough around the edges, but it was really intended for a couple people on our server.
If you like WPVP and would like to see a little from pre-MOP, I made a 40-minute hunter video at the link below - this got pretty popular for a while back when it was released as well, and is still one of the favorites that I've done.
Finally alone. Chose this place so they couldn't find me. No one could here. Serene. Alone. Haven't touched a drop of liquor in days...no violence, no war...this continent is peaceful. Maybe I can finally put all that behind me.
And then I see the crow. Standing there on the planks outside my door like a feathered messenger from hell - its head cocked, eye beady and black as pitch, looking into my soul, seeking the killer. Its beak pulls on the string on its leg, and it flits off, oblivious of the malevolence of its task. And there is the parchment, laying there. I just stare it down for the better part of an hour. I feel it. In my mind. The itch. I don't want to touch it. The wind gusts sharply and suddenly, blowing the note against the door frame - a name - a price. Nothing more.
As I start donning my mail, I tell myself it's for the money...I could live in peace with that for years. I tell myself it's for the cause - because they won't stop coming after me until I do this for them. Hells, I even tell myself it's for the nobility of it - because for that price, this bastard must have done things which are beyond anything the word "evil" could describe. But none of that is true. Its for the thrill. It's to scratch the itch. It's to know I am the better man, and I survived. No booze this time. I do this one sober. I walk to the edge of the dock slowly, and step off the end - the Angel of Death is in flight.
It doesn't take me long to locate him - he leaves he mark in the trail of mangled Alliance bodies all across the Dread Wastes. I can tell I'm gaining ground on him - know he's praying on the weakest of the soldiers - not alone, of course - with another, by the number of lacerations on the bodies. Too many for one person. There are two. Guess this client is getting a bonus.
I find them at the top of a hill, clear as day, staking out their next victim. They don't see me. I'm good drunk. I'm better sober. I'm invisible. I close in, and strike.
We fight for the better part of a day...and somehow, they find the unholy energy to stitch themselves back together every time I put both of them down. I watch the twisted things get up, and then I strike again. They're no match for me. With the haze of intoxication lifted, I'm lightning, and they can't stop me. I don't know if an undead can show fear in their lifeless faces - I do not know if they fear death - I only know that before the end, they fear me.
As the sun is nearing the bottom of the sky, I chase him - the name on the list - Delznope - off the edge of the Serpent's Spine. As we fall, I send a round into the back of his skull which propels him into the ground with such force that he shatters into bits of broken bone and sinew. He doesn't get up. I move over to his head, and pick up a half of it. I see the green light fade from his eye socket, leaving naught but a gaping hole, black and unending. I shudder, and I do not know why.
I'll collect payment tomorrow. I head back to my shack on the cliffs, and sit on the stool in the middle of the cabin the entire night, unable to sleep, unable to blink, the blackness of the empty eye socket burned into my mind - piercing me, taunting me. I reach for the bottle under my bed, and down the entirety in a few seconds. The intoxication takes me quickly, and I slump to the floor as my vision fades to black.
He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you.