Prologue
A lone figure crept through the early morning fog of Stormwind's Trade District. It wandered between the little shops, casting nervous glances about, lurking in the shadows. It had something clutched in its hand, a piece of paper wrapped in a silk tie to ensure that its shape and integrity remained intact. The figure slunk closer to the Hero's Call Board in the center of the city, its heart beating rapidly as it unwrapped the silk from the thick poster and unrolled it. With trembling hands, the figure began to quickly hammer the poster into the call board.
In the center of the paper was a solitary eye, etched in red ink. Beneath the eye, was the number nine translated into each language of Azeroth.
Laughter and the sound of plate boots upon stone started the figure who vanished just as two members of the Stormwind guard rounded the corner of the auction house. One of the men scoffed as he saw the strange poster on the public board.
"Have you see this rubbish, Herald? We've been finding this shite all over the city. Plastered on the side of shops, washed up in the canals, Fel, we even found some in the lavatories fer light's sake! What do you make of this nonsense?"
The older man reached forward and yanked the poster from the board, his eyes wandering the bizarre parchment. He crumpled it suddenly and tossed it to the ground, stomping it with his heavy boots. He turned to his perplexed partner and smiled.
"Just a poster."
