The woman moved purposefully through Shattrath, cloak billowing out behind her. A snarling felhound led the way, clearing a path between various inhabitants. A draenei captain cursed at her as she passed and she brushed her left hand over his arm seeming by mistake. He yelped as she moved away, leaving behind four fingertip shaped burns on his skin.
At the base of the Aldor's terrace stood a gnome female. She bounced back and forth from foot to foot impatiently, causing her green pigtails to bob and the large package hanging from a rope in her right hand to wriggle. A white rat sat perched on her shoulder and both gnome and rat watched the crowds with anticipation. Then she stilled and unsheathed her dagger as a large felhound came bounding out of a pack of marching draenei followed closely by a small forsaken woman. The pair came to a stop in front of the gnome.
"Did you find anything?" The forsaken asked calmly and the gnome looked up at her.
"We found some information." The gnome said calmly as she straightened her black and silver tabard and sheathed her dagger. "We at the Argent Dawn hold most of the intact records from the lands now belonging to the Scourge after all. I collected it and have all I could find here, including some records from Stormwind. Of course there were issues, the library and census office in Stormwind refused to cooperate with us after the person we sent let it slip we were gathering information for a forsaken."
The gnome handed over the box.
"We will of course continue to search for any information relating to the name you gave us. We are always happy to help offer Forsaken closure on their former lives." The gnome smiled.
The box was heavy and Thalevia hoped it would hold useful information. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a heavy purse of clinking coins and handed it to the gnome.
"Your payment. You will forward anything else you find to the Undercity please. I check my box there regularly and would prefer not to trust this to the goblins, they tend to lose things."
"Of course." The gnome offered a sharp salute. "Happy hunting warlock." Then she pulled a small runestone from her pocket and vanished in a cloud of green magic.
Closure
Re: Closure
Thalevia sat in front of the small desk in her Undercity rooms, papers and fair copy records scattered all over the surface. The box she got from the gnome sat on her loom stool, the wooden lid lay on the floor next to it. She ran her finger over the list in front of her, the name circled in charcoal pencil. An immigration list, the bastard had gone to Stormwind. While the location made sense, his presence on an immigration list of refugees from Lordaeron right after the plague did not.
She went over the list again, trying to decide what to do with the information. If the Argent Dawn sources were reliable, and they were 99% of the time, it meant he was still alive. They hadn't found a death certificat after all. Nor any notice of his death even if a certificat had not been issued. And it wasn't like she could just stroll into Stormwind and ask the nearest guard to point her to the mage towers.
However...
She set the list down in front of her and tapped her claw absentmindly on the table. She knew a goblin who owed her a favour. And the goblins had free run of most places in Azeroth, or at least could bribe their way in. She stood and gathered the list, a small traveling pack and a heavy cloak and left. If she was quick, should could catch the last zepplin of the night to Grom'gol. And from there it was an easy trip south to Booty Bay.
She went over the list again, trying to decide what to do with the information. If the Argent Dawn sources were reliable, and they were 99% of the time, it meant he was still alive. They hadn't found a death certificat after all. Nor any notice of his death even if a certificat had not been issued. And it wasn't like she could just stroll into Stormwind and ask the nearest guard to point her to the mage towers.
However...
She set the list down in front of her and tapped her claw absentmindly on the table. She knew a goblin who owed her a favour. And the goblins had free run of most places in Azeroth, or at least could bribe their way in. She stood and gathered the list, a small traveling pack and a heavy cloak and left. If she was quick, should could catch the last zepplin of the night to Grom'gol. And from there it was an easy trip south to Booty Bay.
Re: Closure
"You owe me goblin!" She hissed at the goblin across the table from her and he squirmed.
"Yeah yeah, but time is money warlock." He watched her with narrow eyes, "And no money in the world is worth what you want of me."
"Typical." She sat back, fingers curled loosely around a glass half filled with a rich dark liquid, "I guess we can take up your unwillingness to settle this debt with the Cartel enforcers. I have heard they do not tolerate ones like you here. No one will trade with you if it becomes known you refuse to pay back your debts." She ran the tip of a finger along the rim of her glass and watched the goblin with a calm expression, "You're bound to end up with a dagger in your back or a swift delivery into the hands of the Bloodsails. I hear a goblin of your reputation is worth a sizable amount."
His face paled slightly "You're bluffing warlock."
A strange smile spread across her lips and she reached over, lightly brushing her fingertips against the goblins arm. He cursed and pulled the arm away, staring in horror at the small oval shaped burns beginning to form on his skin.
"I don't bluff."
The goblin visibly slumped down in defeat. "I'll do it."
"Yeah yeah, but time is money warlock." He watched her with narrow eyes, "And no money in the world is worth what you want of me."
"Typical." She sat back, fingers curled loosely around a glass half filled with a rich dark liquid, "I guess we can take up your unwillingness to settle this debt with the Cartel enforcers. I have heard they do not tolerate ones like you here. No one will trade with you if it becomes known you refuse to pay back your debts." She ran the tip of a finger along the rim of her glass and watched the goblin with a calm expression, "You're bound to end up with a dagger in your back or a swift delivery into the hands of the Bloodsails. I hear a goblin of your reputation is worth a sizable amount."
His face paled slightly "You're bluffing warlock."
A strange smile spread across her lips and she reached over, lightly brushing her fingertips against the goblins arm. He cursed and pulled the arm away, staring in horror at the small oval shaped burns beginning to form on his skin.
"I don't bluff."
The goblin visibly slumped down in defeat. "I'll do it."
Re: Closure
Thalevia sat astride her dreadsteed along the Elwynn Forest border. The patrols had been simple to avoid despite the grumbling of the goblin perches behind her. Thick woolen robes covered by a dark heavily hooded cloak masked her race and anyone who looked her way would simply see a petite warlock making her way to the city. The goblin would be assumed to be a companion of sorts, warlocks tended to consort with strange individuals.
She kept her dreadsteed at a walk and avoided the roads. The trees were thick despite the heavy logging operations and the various farms scattered throughout. Strangely enough, Elwynn reminded her of Lordaeron before the plague. Thickly green and vibrant as her home had once been though Elwynn lacked the mist of magic that had always seemed present in Lordaeron due to the nearby Dalaran city and the northern country of the elves.
She skirted around Goldshire, doing her best to avoid notice and arrived within sight of the city gates. With a hand, gloved in leather to avoid drawing attention to its shape, she handed a thickly padded letter to the goblin behind her. The wax seal was simple enough, but the recipient would recognize the marking unless he had gone senile over the years. The goblin slid off the dreadsteeds rump and landed on his butt in the dust.
Thalevia looked down at him from under the cover of her hood. "Be sure that note gets to the one named across the front. No one else must read it. When and if you return, I will escort you back to Booty Bay and pay you. Got it. If you aren't back by moonrise, I wish you the joy of your new home." She gestured to the city walls.
She kept her dreadsteed at a walk and avoided the roads. The trees were thick despite the heavy logging operations and the various farms scattered throughout. Strangely enough, Elwynn reminded her of Lordaeron before the plague. Thickly green and vibrant as her home had once been though Elwynn lacked the mist of magic that had always seemed present in Lordaeron due to the nearby Dalaran city and the northern country of the elves.
She skirted around Goldshire, doing her best to avoid notice and arrived within sight of the city gates. With a hand, gloved in leather to avoid drawing attention to its shape, she handed a thickly padded letter to the goblin behind her. The wax seal was simple enough, but the recipient would recognize the marking unless he had gone senile over the years. The goblin slid off the dreadsteeds rump and landed on his butt in the dust.
Thalevia looked down at him from under the cover of her hood. "Be sure that note gets to the one named across the front. No one else must read it. When and if you return, I will escort you back to Booty Bay and pay you. Got it. If you aren't back by moonrise, I wish you the joy of your new home." She gestured to the city walls.
Re: Closure
"She's much to young for this."
"Nonsense. Dalaran tests children at the age of 4. Just because they can't be bothered to venture into the homes of those who don't line their purses with coin does not mean she shouldn't be tested. Besides, it's harmless. And if she does have ability, better she learn to control it now before she destroys something in intense emotion." He turned his attention back to his daughter in his lap. "Now Levee, let's see what you can do." He held his hand in front of her palm flat to show he held nothing. "Watch." He whispered words, moved his hands through the motions of the incantation and watched her reaction of delight as a tiny flame flickered to life in his palm.
"Can I try! Show me!" She wiggled with excitement, small hands already trying to mimic his movements.
"You must be still first." She went still in the way only a child can, barely contained, her hands clasped tight in her lap. "Good. Now raise your hands up like mine and try and follow the pattern." Large hands moved through the motions, smooth and practiced. Her own hands followed the motions, enthusiastically and choppy.
"Good. Now repeat after me as you move your hands." His voice quietly whispered the words in here ear and she repeated them as she tried her best to follow the movements he had taught her. Light and heat flashed briefly above her palms as she finished the motions. It faded almost instantly.
"Look daddy! I did it! I did it!" She moved her hands through the motions again, stumbling over the awkward phrasing of the spell and smiled when she got the same result, a brief flash of heat and life.
"Yes you did." His voice patient as always. "Let us try one more time. This time don't rush the words."
"Why isn't mine pretty like yours?" She turned to look at his face as she asked.
"Was your very first try at weaving as pretty like your mothers are? It is the same. Pretty will come with practice Levee."
He had worked with Thalevia every night for several weeks on that silly little incantation. But even now, with all her training and knowledge, fire came best to hand with those motions, those nonsense words. Any master mage will tell you that you must have the motions, the circles, the ritual, the words for a spell to work. Thalevia had always found intent worked just as well. Flashy circles and long drawn out incantations just allowed the mind to focus. And all the theatrics in the world did not replace innate ability.
Thalevia sat on the edge of Scryer rise, her legs dangling over the side. She moved her hands through the motions, said the words and watched as a ball of flame came to life in her palm, radiating light and heat. She extinguished the flame and looked down at the letter in her lap. Her goblin had been unable to get past the second set of guards at the city entrance and had been forced to turn around. She turned the thick vellum packet over in her hands and looked at the name written in her careful feminine script across the front. Surrounding the back where she had pressed her seal into grey wax were the nonsense words of the incantation he had taught her so long ago.
'Maybe it wasn't possible.' She thought to herself as she turned the packet over and over in her hands. 'The past is the past after all. Except there has to be a way to get in contact with him. I need to know why.'
Her hearthstone buzzed with activity and the voices of The Grim. Now was not the time to worry over it. She had preparations to make for herself before joining the others in another night in the Guardian's Tower.
"Nonsense. Dalaran tests children at the age of 4. Just because they can't be bothered to venture into the homes of those who don't line their purses with coin does not mean she shouldn't be tested. Besides, it's harmless. And if she does have ability, better she learn to control it now before she destroys something in intense emotion." He turned his attention back to his daughter in his lap. "Now Levee, let's see what you can do." He held his hand in front of her palm flat to show he held nothing. "Watch." He whispered words, moved his hands through the motions of the incantation and watched her reaction of delight as a tiny flame flickered to life in his palm.
"Can I try! Show me!" She wiggled with excitement, small hands already trying to mimic his movements.
"You must be still first." She went still in the way only a child can, barely contained, her hands clasped tight in her lap. "Good. Now raise your hands up like mine and try and follow the pattern." Large hands moved through the motions, smooth and practiced. Her own hands followed the motions, enthusiastically and choppy.
"Good. Now repeat after me as you move your hands." His voice quietly whispered the words in here ear and she repeated them as she tried her best to follow the movements he had taught her. Light and heat flashed briefly above her palms as she finished the motions. It faded almost instantly.
"Look daddy! I did it! I did it!" She moved her hands through the motions again, stumbling over the awkward phrasing of the spell and smiled when she got the same result, a brief flash of heat and life.
"Yes you did." His voice patient as always. "Let us try one more time. This time don't rush the words."
"Why isn't mine pretty like yours?" She turned to look at his face as she asked.
"Was your very first try at weaving as pretty like your mothers are? It is the same. Pretty will come with practice Levee."
He had worked with Thalevia every night for several weeks on that silly little incantation. But even now, with all her training and knowledge, fire came best to hand with those motions, those nonsense words. Any master mage will tell you that you must have the motions, the circles, the ritual, the words for a spell to work. Thalevia had always found intent worked just as well. Flashy circles and long drawn out incantations just allowed the mind to focus. And all the theatrics in the world did not replace innate ability.
Thalevia sat on the edge of Scryer rise, her legs dangling over the side. She moved her hands through the motions, said the words and watched as a ball of flame came to life in her palm, radiating light and heat. She extinguished the flame and looked down at the letter in her lap. Her goblin had been unable to get past the second set of guards at the city entrance and had been forced to turn around. She turned the thick vellum packet over in her hands and looked at the name written in her careful feminine script across the front. Surrounding the back where she had pressed her seal into grey wax were the nonsense words of the incantation he had taught her so long ago.
'Maybe it wasn't possible.' She thought to herself as she turned the packet over and over in her hands. 'The past is the past after all. Except there has to be a way to get in contact with him. I need to know why.'
Her hearthstone buzzed with activity and the voices of The Grim. Now was not the time to worry over it. She had preparations to make for herself before joining the others in another night in the Guardian's Tower.
Last edited by Thalevia on Wed Jun 18, 2008 6:16 am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Closure
Booty Bay was a thriving port, the sounds and smells of the sea and commerce heavy in the air. A place she hated but a necessary location for what she required. She sat at a back table in the inn, the fingers of her right hand tapping lightly on the table top. A thick pottery goblet held mead, golden and honey sweet. In her left hand she held a slim slip of paper, a contract in her writing with her signature at the bottom and the name of the goblin who still, in her mind, owed her a favour. Though he argued that his failed attempt into the city of Stormwind fulfilled his obligation to her, her contract stated otherwise. It was always a good idea to actually read what you were about to sign.
She took a sip of the mead, letting the sweetness sit in her mouth a moment before swallowing. The fink was hiding from her. She had gone to his warehouse looking for him only to find a goblin whore lacing her dress and counting the coins in her hand and his office window open behind her. After an argument, where Thalevia debated the worth of the females skills, she was told he had jumped out the window into the slimy water under the docks as soon as he had seen her coming. Well, her felguard would hunt him out soon enough. Very reliable creature, though not exactly the brightest of demons. Very single minded.
"Refill your drink hun?" A server came sauntering over, tray laden with empty tankards. Thalevia waved her away with a frown. The server smiled in the way of all service personal, enough to convince anyone just glancing that it was sincere, and wandered away.
Finally Thalevia heard the crashing footsteps of her demon, marking his return. He came through the tavern door, a wriggling goblin hanging from his fist. Following close behind were two Booty Bay Bruisers, and Thalevia looked up to see the remains of netting on her demons large axe.
"Gentlemen!" Thalevia stepped forward from the table, putting herself between the fuming bruisers and her demon.
"That creature yours, lady?" One asked in a gruff voice, pointing at the felguard with his mace.
"Indeed he is. He was simply ensuring my associate reached our meeting in a timely manor. He tends to let time get away from him but I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with him. I apologize for any harm my demon may have caused in his pursuit." She reached over to the pack on the table and removed two small black silk bags, clinking heavy with coin. "Please allow me to reimburse you for your time in keeping the Bay safe from marauders."
Smiling sweetly, she reached down and pressed the bags into the empty hands of each bruiser. They looked at each other and weighed each bag in hand.
"Just don't let it happen again." They turned sharply and shoved through onlookers to exit the tavern. Thalevia turned around, smile gone and glanced at the goblin still held tightly in hand by the felguard.
"Now to business. Drop him in the chair please and ensure he does not leave it." She watched as the goblin hit the seat hard. "There, you owe me a favour still."
"My debt to you was fullfilled!"
"Your job was to see my package into the hands of the recipient. You didn't. In my mind that indicates failure."
"How am I supposed to get past those damned guards. They don't exactly trust us enough to allow us in their cities all the time."
"Be creative. I want that package delivered. And until it is given into the hands of the one named, you owe me." She looked at the goblin across from her, "Was running from me worth the diseases now running rampant in your system from the sewage below the docks?"
"What diseases..." His face took on a greyish cast, and he looked worried.
"Oh nothing. Simply speculation. The water is filthy after all, I am surprised the fishers on your docks don't develop exotic deformities judging by the stench coming off the bay. But that's of no matter. We leave now for Stormwind, I have had enough of this stupidity, I want this package delivered."
She took a sip of the mead, letting the sweetness sit in her mouth a moment before swallowing. The fink was hiding from her. She had gone to his warehouse looking for him only to find a goblin whore lacing her dress and counting the coins in her hand and his office window open behind her. After an argument, where Thalevia debated the worth of the females skills, she was told he had jumped out the window into the slimy water under the docks as soon as he had seen her coming. Well, her felguard would hunt him out soon enough. Very reliable creature, though not exactly the brightest of demons. Very single minded.
"Refill your drink hun?" A server came sauntering over, tray laden with empty tankards. Thalevia waved her away with a frown. The server smiled in the way of all service personal, enough to convince anyone just glancing that it was sincere, and wandered away.
Finally Thalevia heard the crashing footsteps of her demon, marking his return. He came through the tavern door, a wriggling goblin hanging from his fist. Following close behind were two Booty Bay Bruisers, and Thalevia looked up to see the remains of netting on her demons large axe.
"Gentlemen!" Thalevia stepped forward from the table, putting herself between the fuming bruisers and her demon.
"That creature yours, lady?" One asked in a gruff voice, pointing at the felguard with his mace.
"Indeed he is. He was simply ensuring my associate reached our meeting in a timely manor. He tends to let time get away from him but I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with him. I apologize for any harm my demon may have caused in his pursuit." She reached over to the pack on the table and removed two small black silk bags, clinking heavy with coin. "Please allow me to reimburse you for your time in keeping the Bay safe from marauders."
Smiling sweetly, she reached down and pressed the bags into the empty hands of each bruiser. They looked at each other and weighed each bag in hand.
"Just don't let it happen again." They turned sharply and shoved through onlookers to exit the tavern. Thalevia turned around, smile gone and glanced at the goblin still held tightly in hand by the felguard.
"Now to business. Drop him in the chair please and ensure he does not leave it." She watched as the goblin hit the seat hard. "There, you owe me a favour still."
"My debt to you was fullfilled!"
"Your job was to see my package into the hands of the recipient. You didn't. In my mind that indicates failure."
"How am I supposed to get past those damned guards. They don't exactly trust us enough to allow us in their cities all the time."
"Be creative. I want that package delivered. And until it is given into the hands of the one named, you owe me." She looked at the goblin across from her, "Was running from me worth the diseases now running rampant in your system from the sewage below the docks?"
"What diseases..." His face took on a greyish cast, and he looked worried.
"Oh nothing. Simply speculation. The water is filthy after all, I am surprised the fishers on your docks don't develop exotic deformities judging by the stench coming off the bay. But that's of no matter. We leave now for Stormwind, I have had enough of this stupidity, I want this package delivered."
Re: Closure
Horde has been sighted lurking outside the city walls, but as soon as the guards were sent to investigate, the warlock had disappeared in a cloud of green magic. Fleeing; the coward. On the whole, he found warlocks to be a rather cowardly bunch. Oh they boasted on and on about how strong and powerful their magics were and so many weaklings whined about the destruction they were known for but as a whole, he found warlocks to be terrible mages with no grasp or control of the finer magics. And entirely corrupted by the fel energies they turned to when they could not control the arcane magics the way they were supposed to.
He wandered the park of Stormwind, enjoying a particularly fine warm day. The sun was shining and the city was thriving. It reminded him of his years in Lordaeron, only without the heavy feel of magic in the air that place had once had. Now all it was was a diseased wasteland, home to abominations of the Light. He wondered as he did every so often if one of those corpses had the faces of ones he had once loved.
He stopped to admire a pair of apprentices facing off nearby. He chuckled as one turned into a strange half sheep, half pig creature; they were evidently practicing a newly learnt polymorph spell and the one had gotten the pronunciation wrong. The other popped out of the spell and fell back into the grass, looking slightly disoriented. He started to go over to give them a hand when he felt something dragging on his robes.
He look down and spied a terrified looking goblin thrusting a packet into his face.
"This you mister?" The goblins hand was shaking and his seemed to be on the verge of bolting. Not unlikely, his kind were not well liked within the city walls. He saw his name in feminine script on the front and reached to take it from the goblins hands.
"Yes I am he." The goblin shoved the thickly padded envelope into his hands and ran off. He watched the creature go and them shoved him from his mind. "I wonder what this is all about." The package was made of thick vellum, and was soft when he squeezed it. He turned it over, finding it sealed in grey wax, the impression oddly familiar. Around the seal was extremely small writing in a vivid red ink.
Holding it closer he could see the words:
Ignis igni, incendis!
His face went pale and with shaking hands he broke the seal. Inside was something soft wrapped in coarse linen and a folded letter. Forgetting his surroundings entirely, he removed the linen wrapped item and turn it over in his hands. He untied the dark blue ribbon holding it wrapped and peeled away the linen cover. Inside was a small rectangle of finely woven cloth, a simple stripped pattern in a riot of clashing colours. A spicy scent clung to the material and he fell to his knees, the envelope with its contained letter falling to the grass in front of him.
"Daddy! Daddy! Look what I made!" A small girl came running to him as he entered the home he shared with his daughter and wife. She was waving a extremely crude rectangle of material with a simple striped pattern on it done in a wide array of mixed colours. He scooped his small daughter up and swung her around as she giggled madly.
"I see. It's very pretty. Do mommy help you make that?"
"Nope!" She wrapped skinny arms around his neck, hugging him. "I did it all by myself!"
"Why don't we hang that up so everyone can see how wonderful it is." His wife said as she came into the room from the back where her loom was kept. "Go find a piece of ribbon we can use, ok sweetie"
"Ok mommy!"
He set her down and watched her run back into the back room. His wife moved to him to greet him, carrying with her the scent of wool and spices.
"Are you ok sir?" One of the apprentices was shaking him. He looked up at her frightened face, the cloth still clutched in his hands.
"I'm...fine." He gathered up the fallen envelope with its letter and got to his feet, shaking.
"Do you want me to call a guard or someone to help you?"
"No...I'll be fine." He pushed the concerned apprentice away and ignored the way her and her friend swore at him as he ran back to his small apartment within the mage quarter of the city. Once inside he sat on his bed and stared at the cloth and the unread letter. Finally he removed the letter from his envelope, slowly unfolded it and read:
My dearest father;
I do hope this letter finds you in good health. I will admit when I first began my search for you, I was not expecting you to be still alive. Part of me hoped you were long dead, rotting in some Light forsaken hole. But still another part is glad you are among the living. But I will also admit I spent a good many years cursing your name at every opportunity.
I will keep this short and brief, though I could spend pages detailing my grievances with you, it would be a waste of ink and paper. I wish to meet with you. Be at the World's End Tavern in Shattrath on the last day of the month just before dusk. You will find me with a member of the Argent Dawn, who helped me greatly in my search for any mention of you.
Forever your daughter
Thalevia
He wandered the park of Stormwind, enjoying a particularly fine warm day. The sun was shining and the city was thriving. It reminded him of his years in Lordaeron, only without the heavy feel of magic in the air that place had once had. Now all it was was a diseased wasteland, home to abominations of the Light. He wondered as he did every so often if one of those corpses had the faces of ones he had once loved.
He stopped to admire a pair of apprentices facing off nearby. He chuckled as one turned into a strange half sheep, half pig creature; they were evidently practicing a newly learnt polymorph spell and the one had gotten the pronunciation wrong. The other popped out of the spell and fell back into the grass, looking slightly disoriented. He started to go over to give them a hand when he felt something dragging on his robes.
He look down and spied a terrified looking goblin thrusting a packet into his face.
"This you mister?" The goblins hand was shaking and his seemed to be on the verge of bolting. Not unlikely, his kind were not well liked within the city walls. He saw his name in feminine script on the front and reached to take it from the goblins hands.
"Yes I am he." The goblin shoved the thickly padded envelope into his hands and ran off. He watched the creature go and them shoved him from his mind. "I wonder what this is all about." The package was made of thick vellum, and was soft when he squeezed it. He turned it over, finding it sealed in grey wax, the impression oddly familiar. Around the seal was extremely small writing in a vivid red ink.
Holding it closer he could see the words:
Ignis igni, incendis!
His face went pale and with shaking hands he broke the seal. Inside was something soft wrapped in coarse linen and a folded letter. Forgetting his surroundings entirely, he removed the linen wrapped item and turn it over in his hands. He untied the dark blue ribbon holding it wrapped and peeled away the linen cover. Inside was a small rectangle of finely woven cloth, a simple stripped pattern in a riot of clashing colours. A spicy scent clung to the material and he fell to his knees, the envelope with its contained letter falling to the grass in front of him.
"Daddy! Daddy! Look what I made!" A small girl came running to him as he entered the home he shared with his daughter and wife. She was waving a extremely crude rectangle of material with a simple striped pattern on it done in a wide array of mixed colours. He scooped his small daughter up and swung her around as she giggled madly.
"I see. It's very pretty. Do mommy help you make that?"
"Nope!" She wrapped skinny arms around his neck, hugging him. "I did it all by myself!"
"Why don't we hang that up so everyone can see how wonderful it is." His wife said as she came into the room from the back where her loom was kept. "Go find a piece of ribbon we can use, ok sweetie"
"Ok mommy!"
He set her down and watched her run back into the back room. His wife moved to him to greet him, carrying with her the scent of wool and spices.
"Are you ok sir?" One of the apprentices was shaking him. He looked up at her frightened face, the cloth still clutched in his hands.
"I'm...fine." He gathered up the fallen envelope with its letter and got to his feet, shaking.
"Do you want me to call a guard or someone to help you?"
"No...I'll be fine." He pushed the concerned apprentice away and ignored the way her and her friend swore at him as he ran back to his small apartment within the mage quarter of the city. Once inside he sat on his bed and stared at the cloth and the unread letter. Finally he removed the letter from his envelope, slowly unfolded it and read:
My dearest father;
I do hope this letter finds you in good health. I will admit when I first began my search for you, I was not expecting you to be still alive. Part of me hoped you were long dead, rotting in some Light forsaken hole. But still another part is glad you are among the living. But I will also admit I spent a good many years cursing your name at every opportunity.
I will keep this short and brief, though I could spend pages detailing my grievances with you, it would be a waste of ink and paper. I wish to meet with you. Be at the World's End Tavern in Shattrath on the last day of the month just before dusk. You will find me with a member of the Argent Dawn, who helped me greatly in my search for any mention of you.
Forever your daughter
Thalevia
Re: Closure
World's End was doing brisk business and all the tables were filled when Thalevia passed through the entrance, a thick cloak wrapped tight around her and a deep hood pulled over her face. Only the deep grey of her gloves as she held the cloak closed and the rounded tips of her shoes were visible. She scanned the room and spotted her target, a gnome with the tabard of the Argent Dawn. It was a different gnome than the one who has been handling her case thus far but it didn't matter much. Thalevia didn't have the searing hatred of gnomes some of her brethren did and the Argent Dawn always dealt fairly with her. This gnome was a slightly higher ranking member based on the hints of silver thread woven into her tabard and a mage by trade. Thank the Dark Lady she didn't have pink hair, because while gnomes were tolerable, ones with pink hair tended to be part jack rabbit and spent their time bouncing around the place like brain damaged frogs. This one's hair was short, spiky and a shocking electric blue and not easy to miss. She also had an oversized pair of star ruby goggles pushes back on her forehead. As Thalevia reached the table she noticed a black rectangle of metal with an assortment of gears and crystals and little spikes. The gnome smiled brightly up at the heavily cloaked forsaken.
"We are Springle!" The gnome spoke cheerfully, her voice perky and her speech completely at odds with her rank within such a distinguished organization. Thalevia was slightly taken aback by it. "We who are known as Springle have been assigned to help the warlock with her task. We who are Springle promises to fulfill our duties to the best of our ability!"
Thalevia sat down silently while her gnomish companion's smiling face beamed cheerful intent at her.
"The warlock was not expecting Springle was she?" Springle giggled in a girlish fashion. Thalevia blinked stupidly at her.
"What is that?" Thalevia changed the subject, motioning to the assortment of bits on the metal base.
"We who are Springle have fashioned a translator to help the warlock with her issue. We were just waiting for the warlock to arrive so we may calibrate it to the warlocks voice pitch and tone." Springle dug into a bag at her side and pulled a white canvas smock over her head, obscuring and protecting her tabard and pulled the goggles down over her eyes. Thalevia watched from the depths of her hood, which she had yet to remove, as the gnome fiddled with one of the crystals and adjusted a small nob on the side, causing green sparks to flash between an adamantite post and three shards of talasite. Springle then slid a silver oblong pierced full of holes in front of Thalevia. "We require you to speak near the attachment."
Thalevia stared at the strange device as if it might jump up and bite her, she had never been one for mechanical items, going so far as to avoid them whenever possible. She had seen far to many accidents during her training from fellow warlocks of such gnomish designed devices backfiring and maiming or killing the user.
"We assure the warlock our device is safe! It has been tested under the safest conditions possible and we can guarantee the backfire rate to be under 5%, an improvement of the 20% of mundane devices of gnomish design!" Springle shoved back the goggles off her eyes, leaving a weird orange smear on her cheek.
"I suppose..."
"Into the calibrator warlock!" Springle shook her finger disapprovingly at Thalevia's lack of following instructions. "We who are Springle simply need you to give your name and occupation into the device. Simple, easy."
"Thalevia Darkholme, demonologist." Thalevia spoke softly into the device in front of her then recoiled, waiting for the explosion, her hood falling back around her shoulders. The gnome beside her giggled, watching the reaction.
"See, we build good devices." And pulled away the oblong of silver. "Would the warlock like a demonstration?"
Thalevia nodded, they had time as he hadn't shown up yet. She watched as the gnome spoke her name and rank within the Argent Dawn into the device and then flipped a switch. She then launched into what Thalevia recognized as very vulgar Tarauhe, all with a sweet smile on her face. A nearby tauren looked up started in their direction, frowing uncertainly when he saw only the cloaked woman and the gnome. She watched as Springle then pushed a button, causing pink current to go through a glass tube, and her voice to come out of a small stone on the side of the device, now in extremely vulgar orcish. Thalevia almost choked at the words and at least five nearby patrons turned to stare at the pair.
"The warlock is pleased with this demonstration?" The gnome flipped a switch and the current on the machine went dead.
"Ye...no! Yes yes, very satisfactory." Thal stumbled over her words, an extremely uncommon occurence with her.
"Good. When is the warlocks guest due? I must calibrate the machine to both of you."
"Any time now." Thalevia said, lifting her hand to signal the waitress. The lithe form of a blood elf came sailing over. "Port please, a bottle of your best." She settled into her seat, eyeing the patrons entering the tavern. "Now we wait."
"We are Springle!" The gnome spoke cheerfully, her voice perky and her speech completely at odds with her rank within such a distinguished organization. Thalevia was slightly taken aback by it. "We who are known as Springle have been assigned to help the warlock with her task. We who are Springle promises to fulfill our duties to the best of our ability!"
Thalevia sat down silently while her gnomish companion's smiling face beamed cheerful intent at her.
"The warlock was not expecting Springle was she?" Springle giggled in a girlish fashion. Thalevia blinked stupidly at her.
"What is that?" Thalevia changed the subject, motioning to the assortment of bits on the metal base.
"We who are Springle have fashioned a translator to help the warlock with her issue. We were just waiting for the warlock to arrive so we may calibrate it to the warlocks voice pitch and tone." Springle dug into a bag at her side and pulled a white canvas smock over her head, obscuring and protecting her tabard and pulled the goggles down over her eyes. Thalevia watched from the depths of her hood, which she had yet to remove, as the gnome fiddled with one of the crystals and adjusted a small nob on the side, causing green sparks to flash between an adamantite post and three shards of talasite. Springle then slid a silver oblong pierced full of holes in front of Thalevia. "We require you to speak near the attachment."
Thalevia stared at the strange device as if it might jump up and bite her, she had never been one for mechanical items, going so far as to avoid them whenever possible. She had seen far to many accidents during her training from fellow warlocks of such gnomish designed devices backfiring and maiming or killing the user.
"We assure the warlock our device is safe! It has been tested under the safest conditions possible and we can guarantee the backfire rate to be under 5%, an improvement of the 20% of mundane devices of gnomish design!" Springle shoved back the goggles off her eyes, leaving a weird orange smear on her cheek.
"I suppose..."
"Into the calibrator warlock!" Springle shook her finger disapprovingly at Thalevia's lack of following instructions. "We who are Springle simply need you to give your name and occupation into the device. Simple, easy."
"Thalevia Darkholme, demonologist." Thalevia spoke softly into the device in front of her then recoiled, waiting for the explosion, her hood falling back around her shoulders. The gnome beside her giggled, watching the reaction.
"See, we build good devices." And pulled away the oblong of silver. "Would the warlock like a demonstration?"
Thalevia nodded, they had time as he hadn't shown up yet. She watched as the gnome spoke her name and rank within the Argent Dawn into the device and then flipped a switch. She then launched into what Thalevia recognized as very vulgar Tarauhe, all with a sweet smile on her face. A nearby tauren looked up started in their direction, frowing uncertainly when he saw only the cloaked woman and the gnome. She watched as Springle then pushed a button, causing pink current to go through a glass tube, and her voice to come out of a small stone on the side of the device, now in extremely vulgar orcish. Thalevia almost choked at the words and at least five nearby patrons turned to stare at the pair.
"The warlock is pleased with this demonstration?" The gnome flipped a switch and the current on the machine went dead.
"Ye...no! Yes yes, very satisfactory." Thal stumbled over her words, an extremely uncommon occurence with her.
"Good. When is the warlocks guest due? I must calibrate the machine to both of you."
"Any time now." Thalevia said, lifting her hand to signal the waitress. The lithe form of a blood elf came sailing over. "Port please, a bottle of your best." She settled into her seat, eyeing the patrons entering the tavern. "Now we wait."
Re: Closure
Thalevia pointed Whisper through the small mountain pass of the Bulwark, ignoring the inhabitants of the small post. She held the reins loosely in hand and sat relaxed, letting her mind and her Dreadsteed wander at will. Her time was her own and her errand not overly urgent. And Whisper hated spiders, he would stick to the road through this section of the Plagued Lands.
He had not shown up as requested, the coward. Not that Thal was surprised by it, but she was hurt. It was a child's hurt at going unloved and unwanted by a parent and not an adults rational pain, but it was there. Didn't a man want to see what his child had made of herself? Wasn't he the least bit curious about the wife and daughter he had abandoned? Clearly not, since he hadn't shown up in Shattrath.
"Useless bag of slime!" She said to Whisper who turned his ears back to listen, the sound of his hoofbeats on the worn cobbles the only sound he made. "Why didn't he come?" She asked the Dreadsteed, her voice filled with the hurt she had felt as a child, watching him walk away from her and her mother. The dreadsteed stopped and turned his head back to look at her, his equine face displaying many levels of disgust. She narrowed her eyes. "Don't look at me like that." And he only bared his teeth in response. "You're right, I sound like a whiny human child." She sighed and looked around before turning back to the eyes watching her. "I'll stop, lets get moving then." The dreadsteed snorted in response and resumed his walking, ears forward.
The pair continued on for sometime, reaching the small dirt road leading to second field occupied by the Scourge and their plague brewing cauldrons. She stopped Whisper and just sat, doing nothing. The dreadsteed under her shuddered and twitched, clearly annoyed at their current lack of movement.
"You want to run." Thalevia said suddenly, her hand reaching down to stroke the warm coat of her mount. The dreadsteed went still, muscles tense and Thalevia resettled herself, the command in demonic passing her lips as the dreadsteed shot forward. She clung to the demons back as the world wiped past her, hurt and anger forgotten in the simple joy of the moment. They past ruined farms and the ruins of the city, the landscape flashing by in a sickly coloured blur. So caught up in the ride, she nearly bowled over a small contingent of humans assembled at the bridge between the western and eastern lands, pulling up just short of them, causing her mount to rear up and nearly sit back. She backed up a good five meters.
The six humans stared at her in surprise and she snarled when she saw who they were, Scarlet Crusade. Waste of time stopping, she should have just run over them. They were gathering themselves, weapons being drawn and five of them surrounding the sixth, an escort group no doubt.
"Be gone Scourge!" The leader shouted in common, his sword pointed at her and Thalevia smiled cruelly.
"I'm sure fine gentlemen such as yourselves wouldn't attack a weaponless woman simply enjoying a fine ride through the country." Thalevia's common was rusty, her voice slightly raspy but she could get her point across.
"Scourge receive no quarter! Attack!" The three in the front rushed forward and Thal slid neatly from her dreadsteed as it vanished into the nether, replaced by a towering felguard.
"Well if you want to play, I like games." Thalevia shrugged, her demon wading into the fray, sending one of the side guards flying to the right to land in a crumpled broken heap.
Demonic flowed from her mouth, her hands moving like birds through the motions of the spells as the second guard fell to the ground weighed down by his armor and sword, curse with weakness. The main one, who had insulted her by calling her scourge, was sent screaming away in terror. The remaining two where holding her demon back with shields as their escorted companion sent balls of fire into the fight. She spared a brief second to curse the mage, causing him to grasp at his throat, tongue swollen and protruding, as the main aggressor returned.
The weakened guard was dead, burnt with her fire and her corruption and the main aggressor was coming at her again despite her curses and her spells. A string of words and a large ball of shadow magic later and he lay twitching at her feet. Three down, two guards to go then that mage. Her felguard finally broke through the shields of the two and split one in half from his shoulders to his hip, the large axe getting caught on bone. The other Thalevia corrupted and cursed, ending with a ribbon of fire, the slight modification of a spell learnt in childhood.
Five Scarlets now lay dead or dying around her and only the mage remained, but he had somehow encased himself in a large block of ice that Thalevia knew from seeing the spell previously, could not be melted until the magic wore out. She called her felguard back as he finally pulled his axe from the body it was stuck in. Then she walked closer to the ice encased mage and examined him, her eyes going wide with recognition. He was a little older, his dark hair had streaks of grey but he was still the same. The ice began to fade and she motioned her felguard to remain still. A smile crossed her lips and she spoke as the mage opened his mount to chant:
"Hello father."
He had not shown up as requested, the coward. Not that Thal was surprised by it, but she was hurt. It was a child's hurt at going unloved and unwanted by a parent and not an adults rational pain, but it was there. Didn't a man want to see what his child had made of herself? Wasn't he the least bit curious about the wife and daughter he had abandoned? Clearly not, since he hadn't shown up in Shattrath.
"Useless bag of slime!" She said to Whisper who turned his ears back to listen, the sound of his hoofbeats on the worn cobbles the only sound he made. "Why didn't he come?" She asked the Dreadsteed, her voice filled with the hurt she had felt as a child, watching him walk away from her and her mother. The dreadsteed stopped and turned his head back to look at her, his equine face displaying many levels of disgust. She narrowed her eyes. "Don't look at me like that." And he only bared his teeth in response. "You're right, I sound like a whiny human child." She sighed and looked around before turning back to the eyes watching her. "I'll stop, lets get moving then." The dreadsteed snorted in response and resumed his walking, ears forward.
The pair continued on for sometime, reaching the small dirt road leading to second field occupied by the Scourge and their plague brewing cauldrons. She stopped Whisper and just sat, doing nothing. The dreadsteed under her shuddered and twitched, clearly annoyed at their current lack of movement.
"You want to run." Thalevia said suddenly, her hand reaching down to stroke the warm coat of her mount. The dreadsteed went still, muscles tense and Thalevia resettled herself, the command in demonic passing her lips as the dreadsteed shot forward. She clung to the demons back as the world wiped past her, hurt and anger forgotten in the simple joy of the moment. They past ruined farms and the ruins of the city, the landscape flashing by in a sickly coloured blur. So caught up in the ride, she nearly bowled over a small contingent of humans assembled at the bridge between the western and eastern lands, pulling up just short of them, causing her mount to rear up and nearly sit back. She backed up a good five meters.
The six humans stared at her in surprise and she snarled when she saw who they were, Scarlet Crusade. Waste of time stopping, she should have just run over them. They were gathering themselves, weapons being drawn and five of them surrounding the sixth, an escort group no doubt.
"Be gone Scourge!" The leader shouted in common, his sword pointed at her and Thalevia smiled cruelly.
"I'm sure fine gentlemen such as yourselves wouldn't attack a weaponless woman simply enjoying a fine ride through the country." Thalevia's common was rusty, her voice slightly raspy but she could get her point across.
"Scourge receive no quarter! Attack!" The three in the front rushed forward and Thal slid neatly from her dreadsteed as it vanished into the nether, replaced by a towering felguard.
"Well if you want to play, I like games." Thalevia shrugged, her demon wading into the fray, sending one of the side guards flying to the right to land in a crumpled broken heap.
Demonic flowed from her mouth, her hands moving like birds through the motions of the spells as the second guard fell to the ground weighed down by his armor and sword, curse with weakness. The main one, who had insulted her by calling her scourge, was sent screaming away in terror. The remaining two where holding her demon back with shields as their escorted companion sent balls of fire into the fight. She spared a brief second to curse the mage, causing him to grasp at his throat, tongue swollen and protruding, as the main aggressor returned.
The weakened guard was dead, burnt with her fire and her corruption and the main aggressor was coming at her again despite her curses and her spells. A string of words and a large ball of shadow magic later and he lay twitching at her feet. Three down, two guards to go then that mage. Her felguard finally broke through the shields of the two and split one in half from his shoulders to his hip, the large axe getting caught on bone. The other Thalevia corrupted and cursed, ending with a ribbon of fire, the slight modification of a spell learnt in childhood.
Five Scarlets now lay dead or dying around her and only the mage remained, but he had somehow encased himself in a large block of ice that Thalevia knew from seeing the spell previously, could not be melted until the magic wore out. She called her felguard back as he finally pulled his axe from the body it was stuck in. Then she walked closer to the ice encased mage and examined him, her eyes going wide with recognition. He was a little older, his dark hair had streaks of grey but he was still the same. The ice began to fade and she motioned her felguard to remain still. A smile crossed her lips and she spoke as the mage opened his mount to chant:
"Hello father."
Re: Closure
He went silent in shock. There was no way that this creature standing in front of him could be his baby girl.
"Levee..."
"You seem rather shocked father." The creature grinned, "I must have missed you in Shattrath." She then frowned, "I was most disappointed when you didn't show up as I asked, I was looking forward to seeing you again you know."
He stared at her openly, doing his best to deny the facts right in front of his face. Despite the affects the plague had had on her, he could see his wife in the shape of her face, her mouth and the shape of her eyes was something he saw every time he looked in the mirror. He could not deny, she was his offspring. He needed to get away from this...thing wearing his daughters face. Trying to be covert he moved his hands through the motions and watched as she took the form of a blue turtle. His relief at the spell working was fleet as the transformation broke to reveal a now annoyed forsaken female.
"That was not a wise move." She snarled out a word and he felt his tongue swell up, blocking his airway and a feeling of constriction around his throat. His lifted his hands to claw at the invisible bonds tightening off his airway. "There." He listened as more demonic spilled from her lips, and a summoning circle appeared in light at her feet. It hurt hear such filth coming from her mouth. There was a snarl and every hair on his body stood on end. Standing at her side, the size of a child's pony, was a fel hound, a magic eater.
He watched as she caressed and petted the thing as if it was a puppy. She cooed at it even! It seemed to purr under her ministrations until it turned its attention on him. It moved slowly forward, its long tentacles reaching out, brushing at the hem of his robes and exploring upward. It nudged at him with its muzzle, seeming happy to be at his side.
"Maadom has taken a liking to you it seems." There was amusement in her voice. The fel hound bounded puppy like back to her side and nuzzled up against her thigh, its tentacles quivering and reaching in his direction every so often. "You don't seem to like him though. Pity really."
She moved her hands through motions he recognized until a small ball of fire appeared in her hand. With her other hand she produced a glowing purple shard and fed it into the flame causing it to grow in size. It continued growing as she chanted until she held a large ball of bright orange flame, with the tiniest hints of purple in the center.
"Did I do well father? It's the spell you yourself taught me, but I enhanced it." She hurled the ball at his feet and there was a terrified youths scream as the ball exploded and the flame dissipated. Fire licked up the hem of his robes and he frantically beat at it to put it out, finally calling forth ice to encase himself once more. "How tiresome. Is that the way you always handle conflict father. You run away? Well that will be enough of that."
The summoning circle was back and the fel hound was gone. He didn't dare drop his only protection sooner than the magic wore out and he could only watch helpless as she summoned the large demon with the axe. It vanished from his immediate view and his daughter walked over to stand directly in front of him as the magic faded from him leaving his body chilled. There was a smashing pain on the back of his head and his daughters smirk as darkness overtook him.
"Levee..."
"You seem rather shocked father." The creature grinned, "I must have missed you in Shattrath." She then frowned, "I was most disappointed when you didn't show up as I asked, I was looking forward to seeing you again you know."
He stared at her openly, doing his best to deny the facts right in front of his face. Despite the affects the plague had had on her, he could see his wife in the shape of her face, her mouth and the shape of her eyes was something he saw every time he looked in the mirror. He could not deny, she was his offspring. He needed to get away from this...thing wearing his daughters face. Trying to be covert he moved his hands through the motions and watched as she took the form of a blue turtle. His relief at the spell working was fleet as the transformation broke to reveal a now annoyed forsaken female.
"That was not a wise move." She snarled out a word and he felt his tongue swell up, blocking his airway and a feeling of constriction around his throat. His lifted his hands to claw at the invisible bonds tightening off his airway. "There." He listened as more demonic spilled from her lips, and a summoning circle appeared in light at her feet. It hurt hear such filth coming from her mouth. There was a snarl and every hair on his body stood on end. Standing at her side, the size of a child's pony, was a fel hound, a magic eater.
He watched as she caressed and petted the thing as if it was a puppy. She cooed at it even! It seemed to purr under her ministrations until it turned its attention on him. It moved slowly forward, its long tentacles reaching out, brushing at the hem of his robes and exploring upward. It nudged at him with its muzzle, seeming happy to be at his side.
"Maadom has taken a liking to you it seems." There was amusement in her voice. The fel hound bounded puppy like back to her side and nuzzled up against her thigh, its tentacles quivering and reaching in his direction every so often. "You don't seem to like him though. Pity really."
She moved her hands through motions he recognized until a small ball of fire appeared in her hand. With her other hand she produced a glowing purple shard and fed it into the flame causing it to grow in size. It continued growing as she chanted until she held a large ball of bright orange flame, with the tiniest hints of purple in the center.
"Did I do well father? It's the spell you yourself taught me, but I enhanced it." She hurled the ball at his feet and there was a terrified youths scream as the ball exploded and the flame dissipated. Fire licked up the hem of his robes and he frantically beat at it to put it out, finally calling forth ice to encase himself once more. "How tiresome. Is that the way you always handle conflict father. You run away? Well that will be enough of that."
The summoning circle was back and the fel hound was gone. He didn't dare drop his only protection sooner than the magic wore out and he could only watch helpless as she summoned the large demon with the axe. It vanished from his immediate view and his daughter walked over to stand directly in front of him as the magic faded from him leaving his body chilled. There was a smashing pain on the back of his head and his daughters smirk as darkness overtook him.
Re: Closure
The world seemed fuzzy and his head felt like a trio of gnomes were tap dancing in mountain climbing boots against his skull. He opened his eyes slowly, hissing as the light reached his pupils. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep when he realized he was sitting and was unable to move much, his hands and ankles secured tightly to the sides of the chair. A thick leather strap wrapped around his waist, digging into his side where the fabric of his robes had bunched a little.
As his vision cleared, her could see a figure lounged across a tattered and stained chaise nearby, apparently sleeping. Judging from the shape of the figure, it was female. A felhound was curled into a ball on the floor at the end, its tentacles twitching every now and again in his direction. He blinked and studied the sleeping figure closer and while he could only see the back, the intricate embroidery on the robes was his daughters work.
Hoping she remained asleep he set to work trying to get his hands free from the tight restraints. All he succeeded in doing was causing the rope to go tighter and start to cut the circulation to his hands off. So set in his attempts he didn't notice her wake up and roll over. He looked up swearing under his breath at the knots in the rope on his wrists to find her watching him with the look of a satisfied cat on her face. She sat up and stretched, he could hear several of her joints pop with her motions.
"So quick to leave again are you." She asked softly getting to her feet before bending to touch her toes. She stood straight again and watched him as if expecting a answer.
"Your hostess skills leave a lot to be desired." His voice sounded harsh and scratched to his ears.
"Oh I just didn't want you to hurt yourself." She giggled and spun around on the spot like a little girl. It hurt to watch this creature with his daughters face and voice. She stopped her turns facing him again and the look on her face was serious. "Don't you recognize where we are?"
"Some moldy plagued ruin." He said as he looked around at the spotted and singed walls, the broken windows, the door hanging off its hinges and the scattering of broken furniture and piles of scrap wood. In the corner was an extremely large shape covered with a spotty piece of canvas. The walls has obviously once been painted and he could see the remains of several wall hangings, torn or so covered with rusty stains, he couldn't make out the designs on them.
"I'm disappointed." She wandered around the room touching several broken pieces of furniture lightly and each remaining wall hanging much like a child long gone from home and returning to the familiar. "But I am not surprised, it has changed in the 20 odd years since you left."
As he looked again, the tattered and broken furniture took on new shapes and colours as he mentally rearranged everything to the way it was the night he left. His eyes settled on the large canvas covered lump in the corner and he could feel his daughter following his gaze. Just briefly he got an image of his wife there at the loom, his young child on the floor behind the stool, blocks and other toys scattered around within easy reach for a 2 year olds hands.
"Why did you bring me here!" He demanded, angry at her for the memories she brought, for being a demon spawn creature taunting him with his child's face.
"To remind you what you abandoned!" She snarled, having moved over to the canvas to whip it off and reveal the loom, still intact and strung with dusty thread. She stalked back across the room and hit him in the face, dragging talons across his cheek to leave behind 4 lines bright red as blood came quickly to the surface. He almost vomited when she licked the tips of her talons clean, neat like some feline. She then clenched her fists tightly enough that he could see several drops of reddish black blood fall to the dusty floor, adding to the stains. She was clearly trying not to hit him again...for the moment. After a short time, she uncurled her hands and visibly seemed calmed, and snarl on her lips replaced with that odd little smile again as she looked down at him. "That was unfair of me. After all, you clearly cannot defend yourself."
"Abandoned? I never abandoned you!"
"What would you call what you did then Father? Extended vacation? Did you perhaps lose your way and couldn't find Lordaeron City again?" She walked over to a nearby table and with her back to him, he watched as she picked something up. "It doesn't matter whether you consider it abandonment or misguided stupidity or whatever excuse you use to help you sleep at night knowing you left a woman and a small child to fend for themselves with little money since you took it all with you."
He really didn't have a response for that as that part was at least true, he had taken the majority of their savings. She turned and in her hand she held a tiny wickedly sharp looking dagger, the blade curving slightly. She balanced it on her forefinger, the metal glinting in the lamplight, before taking it loosely in her right hand. She walked over to him like some sort of exotic predator, small tongue coming out once to lick dry lips in anticipation. He watched the dagger very closely but also did his best not to take his eyes off her face.
She circled the chair stopping behind to bend over and whisper demonic in his ear as the blade came around and settled just over the vein in his neck. He gulped, the knife pricking his skin causing a tiny stream of blood to flow. The knife moved away and the tip glided over his left ear as she pulled her face away, leaving behind a shallow cut along the back of the ear. He ignored the minor sting.
The knife was lifted away and she circled back to his front. She cocked her head, looking at his face. Then without warning she scrapped her talons across his unmarked cheek leaving a matching set of four scratches to bleed. He flinched as the knife came back, this time the tip placed against his skin just below his left eye. He went extremely still.
"My training may lie in the magical arts but I have learnt a few tricks from watching several thieves and assassins in my acquaintance. I advise you to remain still though, for I am not one of them and my skills with a blade are far less....refined." She pulled the knife away from his eye and just watched him. He wasn't sure which was worse, the blade or her eyes.
Time passed and his body soon became a thousand tiny slashes of pain, blurring his vision as blood ran into his eyes. A look of deep concentration remained on the creatures face as she worked over his body with her knife. Finally she stepped back and rested the flat of the blade against her lips, a look of contemplation on her face, much like that of an artist examining an unfinished piece trying to decide where to proceed. He closed his eyes and dearly hoped this humiliation and torture wouldn't end in death yet he knew that she would have him begging for release long before she was finished her sadistic game.
A cup was held to his lips, containing a bittersweet concoction. His used what little strength he had to refuse until he felt a vice like grip tangle in his hair and drag his head back far enough to cause the bones to creak and crackle in protest. His mouth opened with a gasp of pain and she poured the potion down his throat, covering his mouth and nose with her hand so that he had to swallow or drown. The drug was fast acting and soon found himself not unconscious but unable to control his actions beyond what she told him to do.
As his vision cleared, her could see a figure lounged across a tattered and stained chaise nearby, apparently sleeping. Judging from the shape of the figure, it was female. A felhound was curled into a ball on the floor at the end, its tentacles twitching every now and again in his direction. He blinked and studied the sleeping figure closer and while he could only see the back, the intricate embroidery on the robes was his daughters work.
Hoping she remained asleep he set to work trying to get his hands free from the tight restraints. All he succeeded in doing was causing the rope to go tighter and start to cut the circulation to his hands off. So set in his attempts he didn't notice her wake up and roll over. He looked up swearing under his breath at the knots in the rope on his wrists to find her watching him with the look of a satisfied cat on her face. She sat up and stretched, he could hear several of her joints pop with her motions.
"So quick to leave again are you." She asked softly getting to her feet before bending to touch her toes. She stood straight again and watched him as if expecting a answer.
"Your hostess skills leave a lot to be desired." His voice sounded harsh and scratched to his ears.
"Oh I just didn't want you to hurt yourself." She giggled and spun around on the spot like a little girl. It hurt to watch this creature with his daughters face and voice. She stopped her turns facing him again and the look on her face was serious. "Don't you recognize where we are?"
"Some moldy plagued ruin." He said as he looked around at the spotted and singed walls, the broken windows, the door hanging off its hinges and the scattering of broken furniture and piles of scrap wood. In the corner was an extremely large shape covered with a spotty piece of canvas. The walls has obviously once been painted and he could see the remains of several wall hangings, torn or so covered with rusty stains, he couldn't make out the designs on them.
"I'm disappointed." She wandered around the room touching several broken pieces of furniture lightly and each remaining wall hanging much like a child long gone from home and returning to the familiar. "But I am not surprised, it has changed in the 20 odd years since you left."
As he looked again, the tattered and broken furniture took on new shapes and colours as he mentally rearranged everything to the way it was the night he left. His eyes settled on the large canvas covered lump in the corner and he could feel his daughter following his gaze. Just briefly he got an image of his wife there at the loom, his young child on the floor behind the stool, blocks and other toys scattered around within easy reach for a 2 year olds hands.
"Why did you bring me here!" He demanded, angry at her for the memories she brought, for being a demon spawn creature taunting him with his child's face.
"To remind you what you abandoned!" She snarled, having moved over to the canvas to whip it off and reveal the loom, still intact and strung with dusty thread. She stalked back across the room and hit him in the face, dragging talons across his cheek to leave behind 4 lines bright red as blood came quickly to the surface. He almost vomited when she licked the tips of her talons clean, neat like some feline. She then clenched her fists tightly enough that he could see several drops of reddish black blood fall to the dusty floor, adding to the stains. She was clearly trying not to hit him again...for the moment. After a short time, she uncurled her hands and visibly seemed calmed, and snarl on her lips replaced with that odd little smile again as she looked down at him. "That was unfair of me. After all, you clearly cannot defend yourself."
"Abandoned? I never abandoned you!"
"What would you call what you did then Father? Extended vacation? Did you perhaps lose your way and couldn't find Lordaeron City again?" She walked over to a nearby table and with her back to him, he watched as she picked something up. "It doesn't matter whether you consider it abandonment or misguided stupidity or whatever excuse you use to help you sleep at night knowing you left a woman and a small child to fend for themselves with little money since you took it all with you."
He really didn't have a response for that as that part was at least true, he had taken the majority of their savings. She turned and in her hand she held a tiny wickedly sharp looking dagger, the blade curving slightly. She balanced it on her forefinger, the metal glinting in the lamplight, before taking it loosely in her right hand. She walked over to him like some sort of exotic predator, small tongue coming out once to lick dry lips in anticipation. He watched the dagger very closely but also did his best not to take his eyes off her face.
She circled the chair stopping behind to bend over and whisper demonic in his ear as the blade came around and settled just over the vein in his neck. He gulped, the knife pricking his skin causing a tiny stream of blood to flow. The knife moved away and the tip glided over his left ear as she pulled her face away, leaving behind a shallow cut along the back of the ear. He ignored the minor sting.
The knife was lifted away and she circled back to his front. She cocked her head, looking at his face. Then without warning she scrapped her talons across his unmarked cheek leaving a matching set of four scratches to bleed. He flinched as the knife came back, this time the tip placed against his skin just below his left eye. He went extremely still.
"My training may lie in the magical arts but I have learnt a few tricks from watching several thieves and assassins in my acquaintance. I advise you to remain still though, for I am not one of them and my skills with a blade are far less....refined." She pulled the knife away from his eye and just watched him. He wasn't sure which was worse, the blade or her eyes.
Time passed and his body soon became a thousand tiny slashes of pain, blurring his vision as blood ran into his eyes. A look of deep concentration remained on the creatures face as she worked over his body with her knife. Finally she stepped back and rested the flat of the blade against her lips, a look of contemplation on her face, much like that of an artist examining an unfinished piece trying to decide where to proceed. He closed his eyes and dearly hoped this humiliation and torture wouldn't end in death yet he knew that she would have him begging for release long before she was finished her sadistic game.
A cup was held to his lips, containing a bittersweet concoction. His used what little strength he had to refuse until he felt a vice like grip tangle in his hair and drag his head back far enough to cause the bones to creak and crackle in protest. His mouth opened with a gasp of pain and she poured the potion down his throat, covering his mouth and nose with her hand so that he had to swallow or drown. The drug was fast acting and soon found himself not unconscious but unable to control his actions beyond what she told him to do.
Re: Closure
She muscled her burden wrapped tightly in a tattered woolen cloak onto the back of her dreadsteed and made her way out of the Lordaeron ruins. Her fathers body was limp in front of her and she kept one arm tightly around his middle to prevent him from falling while guiding Whisper with her knees and single hand on the reins. The pair crested the hill overlooking Brill and moved silently through the grass towards the rusted and fallen gates of the Brill cemetery. It took almost no time to move through the rows of stone and monuments to find what she was searching for. Located in amongst a small family plot near the west end of cemetery, there it was, the stone she needed.
She slid neatly from Whispers back, dragging her burden with her allowing him to fall in a crumpled heap at her feet. She knew the drug would still be running rampant through his system but he would be lucid enough for the task at hand. She muscled him to his feet, no easy task due to her own small size and the fact that even under the influence of the potion, he was much taller and heavier than she was. Whisper vanished as she lead her father, stumbling and mindless, to the front of a specific stone.
"Can you see what's in front of you father." She spoke softly to him, her voice almost holding traces of care and concern.
He seemed to blink, his entire body trembling briefly as his head slowly tipped down to gaze unseeing at the stone and the words on it. She snarled at him impatiently:
"Look at the stone."
Blinking again slowly, he lowered his head to read the words etched in simple letters over the small stone. That name....memories flooded his mind unasked for; the image of a lovely girl in the park, laughing at a festival dance, eyes filled with love at a small wedding ceremony, holding a child, crying and angry as he walked out the door and away from the life they had created.
He let out a low keening cry and fell to his knees, ignoring the snarling creature at his back. Words tumbled from his lips in a rush as he apologized for everything he had ever done. HIs hands traced over the name on the stone and the words beneath it as tears ran down his cheeks: Beloved Mother. Hope filled him when he saw the dates listed, several years before that foul plague had claimed his child. Then vanished again when he felt twisted claws stroke his head in deceptively soothing fashion.
"Do you mourn her father." the voice that spoke was soft and raspy and like before, held notes of care and sympathy.
"She was my wife. I....loved...her." HIs own voice to him sounded very far away.
"Yet you left her!" The hand on his hair tightened and pulled, dragging his head back and exposing his throat before shoving him forward violently enough so that he fell almost on the stone itself. And there he wept, for his dead wife and cursed and lost child.
"Poor father." Her voice was distant and again oddly caring. He felt a hand rest on his back, warm and solid, and growing warmer as he listened to her voice speak in demonic. His entire body stiffened when he realized the spell being formed. There was a tugging in his chest, a painful slow tearing sensation as magic built up around him. And as suddenly as it started, it ended with a violent twisting pain at his very core. He slumped forward, unsure why he felt so....empty.
She watched his body fall forward, his eyes blank and unseeing. His chest still rose and fell and she could see his pulse hammering at the point in his throat, right near the surface. She could very easily reach down and with the barest pressure of her nails, tear out his throat and let his blood gush forward to stain her mother's grave. But she didn't, instead she pocketed the small violet crystal she had created and tugged the body to it's feet. It blinked at her, eyes still unseeing. She thought about it's fate as it stared at her. The apothecaries were always glad for another body but they preferred their subjects to be much more animated, so as to accurately gage the response to their concoctions. No, she had a much better plan for it.
((One part to go.))
She slid neatly from Whispers back, dragging her burden with her allowing him to fall in a crumpled heap at her feet. She knew the drug would still be running rampant through his system but he would be lucid enough for the task at hand. She muscled him to his feet, no easy task due to her own small size and the fact that even under the influence of the potion, he was much taller and heavier than she was. Whisper vanished as she lead her father, stumbling and mindless, to the front of a specific stone.
"Can you see what's in front of you father." She spoke softly to him, her voice almost holding traces of care and concern.
He seemed to blink, his entire body trembling briefly as his head slowly tipped down to gaze unseeing at the stone and the words on it. She snarled at him impatiently:
"Look at the stone."
Blinking again slowly, he lowered his head to read the words etched in simple letters over the small stone. That name....memories flooded his mind unasked for; the image of a lovely girl in the park, laughing at a festival dance, eyes filled with love at a small wedding ceremony, holding a child, crying and angry as he walked out the door and away from the life they had created.
He let out a low keening cry and fell to his knees, ignoring the snarling creature at his back. Words tumbled from his lips in a rush as he apologized for everything he had ever done. HIs hands traced over the name on the stone and the words beneath it as tears ran down his cheeks: Beloved Mother. Hope filled him when he saw the dates listed, several years before that foul plague had claimed his child. Then vanished again when he felt twisted claws stroke his head in deceptively soothing fashion.
"Do you mourn her father." the voice that spoke was soft and raspy and like before, held notes of care and sympathy.
"She was my wife. I....loved...her." HIs own voice to him sounded very far away.
"Yet you left her!" The hand on his hair tightened and pulled, dragging his head back and exposing his throat before shoving him forward violently enough so that he fell almost on the stone itself. And there he wept, for his dead wife and cursed and lost child.
"Poor father." Her voice was distant and again oddly caring. He felt a hand rest on his back, warm and solid, and growing warmer as he listened to her voice speak in demonic. His entire body stiffened when he realized the spell being formed. There was a tugging in his chest, a painful slow tearing sensation as magic built up around him. And as suddenly as it started, it ended with a violent twisting pain at his very core. He slumped forward, unsure why he felt so....empty.
She watched his body fall forward, his eyes blank and unseeing. His chest still rose and fell and she could see his pulse hammering at the point in his throat, right near the surface. She could very easily reach down and with the barest pressure of her nails, tear out his throat and let his blood gush forward to stain her mother's grave. But she didn't, instead she pocketed the small violet crystal she had created and tugged the body to it's feet. It blinked at her, eyes still unseeing. She thought about it's fate as it stared at her. The apothecaries were always glad for another body but they preferred their subjects to be much more animated, so as to accurately gage the response to their concoctions. No, she had a much better plan for it.
((One part to go.))
Re: Closure
The sun rose soft and warm over the white walls of Stormwind. Voices spoke eagerly as farmers from the surrounding hills made their way into town for market day, barrows of produce and trade goods pulled behind them. Guards called position and the two at the front gate greeted their replacements eagerly, both ready for the minor comfort of breakfast and rest in the barracks. It was in this five minute period of positions shifting that it happened.
Thomas Beckman had been a city guard for four years now and while he vocally stated his desire to be in a more exciting position out in the lands of Azeroth, he was in actuality content with his life. His pay was good, he lived in relative comfort and didn’t have to worry much about some slavering orc fiend gutting him for the sheer pleasure most of the time. He had a pretty little fiancé eagerly planning their life together and his captain had recently told him there were very good things coming in his near future.
He walked over the bridge, the voices of the farmers loud and cheerful behind him. He had just come in line with Khadgar’s statue when he noticed what appeared to be someone lying at the base wrapped in rags. As he stepped closer he could smell blood and rot and infection coming off the form. Sighing and thinking of the breakfast he wouldn’t likely get now, he knelt and pulled back the top layer to find a male inside, breathing very shallowly. He rolled the figure over just as the farmers and their families reached him and he heard a little boy complain loudly about a bad smell. Someone shuffled closer with the morbid curiosity all humans had and then he heard screams.
Footsteps pounded across the bridge and the market contingent was shoved to the side, one farmers wife in hysterics after seeing the form clad in robes stained with blood and other unmentionable fluids and ragged oozing slashes across both cheeks.
“What do you have here?â€
Thomas Beckman had been a city guard for four years now and while he vocally stated his desire to be in a more exciting position out in the lands of Azeroth, he was in actuality content with his life. His pay was good, he lived in relative comfort and didn’t have to worry much about some slavering orc fiend gutting him for the sheer pleasure most of the time. He had a pretty little fiancé eagerly planning their life together and his captain had recently told him there were very good things coming in his near future.
He walked over the bridge, the voices of the farmers loud and cheerful behind him. He had just come in line with Khadgar’s statue when he noticed what appeared to be someone lying at the base wrapped in rags. As he stepped closer he could smell blood and rot and infection coming off the form. Sighing and thinking of the breakfast he wouldn’t likely get now, he knelt and pulled back the top layer to find a male inside, breathing very shallowly. He rolled the figure over just as the farmers and their families reached him and he heard a little boy complain loudly about a bad smell. Someone shuffled closer with the morbid curiosity all humans had and then he heard screams.
Footsteps pounded across the bridge and the market contingent was shoved to the side, one farmers wife in hysterics after seeing the form clad in robes stained with blood and other unmentionable fluids and ragged oozing slashes across both cheeks.
“What do you have here?â€