Breaking News! - Millenia Ago? by Serjazul

[Keeper Of Lore]

(( Previous parts of Serj's storyline in order:
Little in the Past, Nothing in the Future
What Must Be Done...
Disorientation Night
The Hundredth Magi
))


The pieces didn't fit. He decided to himself he'd read it again.

"A room for tonight."

He briefly patted down his pockets to find the one which held his coins. It was always impossible to hold onto money with his condition, though some days he would check his pockets - and to his pleasant surprise he would find several gold. The Arrokoa innkeeper grinned at Serjazul, knowing by now that the absent-minded forsaken had already payed for three months worth of rooms in a matter of two weeks.

Earlier he once caught the Arrokoa in a lie when he had assumed the forsaken had already forgotten he payed. The innkeeper's feathers rustled about as he shook his head. "Testiiing me, were youuu? I suppose you are not as ssstupid as your head problem impliiies." Before Serjazul had the time to decide if he should punish him however, he had lost all recollection of his whereabouts.

"A room for tonight."

His room was small and dirty, and luckily he lacked a keen sense of smell, though this was a typical characteristic of a lower city Inn of Shattrath. From his pouch he pulled out his spyglass, and carefully disassembled it to attain a special peice of glass hidden inside. He removed his leather chestpeice and tunic to expose a thin, pale torso. His ribs were exposed, though this was convenient, as bone is easier to write on than skin. His messages were written backwards on his chest for two reasons: So that one could not easily read them should he not have his armor on, and so that he may read them in a mirror. The anticipation made him slightly nervous, he spent much of his time unaware that these particular messages even existed. Placing the glass between his boney fingers, he examined his writing through its reflection:


Elves' Fault
Feed and Obey
You Once Loved


He frowned. Much was written, though little was decipherable. The few that were readable were cryptic. He sighed in dissapointment and clutched his tunic, though looking down a short sentence could be seen on his highest rib. He gave a toothy grin, though it was lost after he angled the glass to read it.


Acherontia knows something


"Who's Acherontia?" He said incredulously to himself. He tapped the rib idly in thought, though nothing came to mind.

"Well, Acherontia...let's find out what you know..."

With that, he clothed himself and re-assembled his spyglass to find the mysterious person. As he walked by the entrance, he caught the Arokkoa's amused look.

"How long do I have on the room?" He asked with a smile.

He squaked as he usually did before he was about to fake sincerity, "Have aaa good niiight's sleep? You've staaayed your day."

Serjazul merely chuckled. "I'm off to look for someone, but you'd better hope I don't remember this when I come back."

[Keeper Of Lore]

Hours passed -

then did days,

and weeks,

and months.

Serjazul hadn't found Acherontia, in fact it took only minutes for him to be a helpless wanderer. Instead, he found himself deep within the Terokkar forest, with only the cheerful optimism in that he wasn't reliant on sustenance. His lightly tattered leather clothing weighed heavily on him; he may have been walking the entire time, or perhaps he had just encountered obstacles along the way.

The cool shades of green from the grass, tree moss, and lush canopies were a calming sight, though the nostalgia it brought was almost overwhelming. He wondered how long he had stayed here, what direction he might take to find civilization, how he'd be able to commit to the direction, and if he should even leave this place. He leaned his back against a tree, and let himself slide down slowly to sit. He gently opened his travel bag to see what he might find inside. From it, he pulled a white stone, and smiled at the abundant amount of directions written on it. The largest of them clearly advised to "Never Lose This." It was hard for him to believe that it could be as old as it looked, considering his exceptional inability to hold on to valuable things. He turned it over, and read the only six lines that were written on that side:

Strom

Lordaeron

Quel'Thalas

Undercity

Orgimmar

Shattrath

The gradual faintness of each word suggested age. His eyes stopped at one.

"Quel'Thalas." He spoke it aloud and paused to turn his head up to the forest's canopy. The skies were slowly darkening.

"I bet it was green like this place."

He lowered his head back to the stone for what felt like a terrible mental discomfort. Troubled by his own words, he picked himself back up. The forest was darker now, though that was not why he felt such a strong urge to leave. He eyed the stone again.

"Shattrath might be nicer."

To his surprise, the stone became alive upon uttering the word, and shifted the confused Forsaken back to where he started. The Arrokoa innkeeper nearly jumped at the sight of appearing man, though grinned upon recognizing him.

"Threeee months!" He squaked gleefully. "Thatsss a lot of coin!"

He patted his armor down futily and gives a friendly smile. "Afraid I've nothing, I'm sure you'll remind me I owe you later?"

The Innkeeper's posture turned into a dissapointed slouch, he simply watched the wanderer drift off once again.


(( Consider this my letter to the Grim / request of re-invitation to the Grim. I would write a letter like everyone else, though in this case that would actually be breaking character since he has no clue who you folks are. Technically in-character, Serj never left, he just got lost! If he was removed in-character because he hasn't been seen again, I'd enjoy and prefer it if someone entered Serj's "scene" in Shattrath, on this thread. Thank you for tolerating my strange character's tendency to wander away from the guild, and my own for wandering in and out of the game = ) ))

[Keeper Of Lore]

by Achernotia

Acherontia was hurrying through the streets of Shattrath, head bowed, writing with a lead stylus in her small notebook while paying only a half-hearted attempt to whether or not she was criss-crossing the words over each other in her blindness. Usually she was rather good at guessing where the lines had been scrawled; however, she didn't have time to sit at a desk and had to make her notes today. The tiny warlock rounded a corner and began making her way to the portal chamber.

Nine more days.

She didn't notice the other until she had crashed into him - pay attention, fool! - she thought angrily as he shouldered her aside, spinning her around and causing her book and stylus to go flying.

Acherontia didn't know if she was talking to herself or him. She had been too careless of late.

Fel-fire flickered in Acherontia's eyes as she dropped to her hands and knees, searching frantically for her notebook. She spied it a few feet from her and crawled toward it, but it was seized and lifted before she could reach it.

"Terribly sorry," said a cheerful voice. The stranger extended a hand to help the warlock to her feet, but Acherontia ignored it and instead snatched her book from him. Her stylus was lost - no matter. She let the green fire disappear from her eyes and ignored the apology, rising to her feet and shooting him a cold glare - then she froze.

She wanted to say "I know you" but none of the facts in his mind would back that statement up, she knew. "Ser-" she began, but checked herself.

"Certainly..." she corrected herself, "not a problem. I should have been more careful."

In an absentminded gesture, the rogue patted himself down and grinned. "No harm done - you're a small little thing and luckily, this body doesn't bruise easily."

It was difficult to keep from smiling back at him - the Forsaken's peculiar way had always amused her. He had been gone from the Grim for months, and she wondered where he'd been, though she knew that asking would be pointless.

Acherontia ran a hand down the front of her tabard, watching him for any flicker of familiarity he may have felt. "Do you - ...do I know you?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

Her question excited Serjazul.

"Ha! I ask that question all the time! Do you? Has a mechanical yeti collided a hammer into your skull as well?"

His inquiry was sincere, though that only made it more humorous. Fighting back laughter, she simply shook her head instead of saying no. It was apparent that Serjazul was slightly disappointed by this, though he cheerfully moved onto his next question. He had very accurate feelings of rarely running into someone who started asking the questions first.

The gesture she made with her tabard was not lost on him. "I think I have one of those," he remarked, as he began pulling a black piece of cloth from under his leather chestguard, "but I figured it was me." He pointed at the shadowy figure holding two blades and instinctively motioned his eyes at his own, though they were hidden from the eyes of others.

"I don't suppose you can tell me what this means? That we have the same one?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

Acherontia had always had a fondness for the absent-minded rogue, but it frustrated her that she had met him anew about ten or twenty times so far. Today it would be twenty-one.

"We wear the same tabard because we are both Grim." She began racking her brain for what she knew of him, facts she could give him that he would forget the moment she was out of his sight, but a temporary identity nonetheless. She considered, as she always did, pretending that it was a new meeting for her as well, but she could not bring herself to that deception. "My name is Acherontia."

She thought she saw something at the mention of the word "Grim", but that was it.

Acherontia continued, steering them out of the middle of the street. "When was the last time you took your gloves off?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

"When was the last time you took your gloves off?"

He stopped abruptly in his tracks. How did she know of my writing? Those are my private notes. He continued walking again, his eyes wandered about as he tried to reason with himself.

He had a fleeting urge to reach for his daggers. No, she can't be an enemy, or else she wouldn't reveal her knowledge this way, and even our tabards match. He faked a friendly smile, and although he now masked his emotions with professional control, nothing could cover the obvious distrust he previously displayed.

"I always assumed 'Grim' referred to my mood, though I suppose it doesn't particularly fit me..." He picked his words carefully, choosing not to directly answer her question. "I feel I've read about you, Acherontia, are you famous?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

In her fel-vision, Acherontia noted the flash of alarm that flared up when she asked about his gloves. She did not envy the rogue - never knowing with certainty who he could trust, not truly...even though she had only ever wanted to help him, somehow. A fool's errand, to be sure. Carefully, she cautioned herself.

"Famous? Ah...no, I wouldn't say that, though I suppose have become more well-known than I was the last time we spoke." She glanced at him as they walked, trying to filter him and see if he would accept her words as truth, or if he would be as skeptical as she expected him to be. "Lascivious - she was Mistress of the Grim, then - had asked me to serve the Mandate as Inquisitor. This happened during the months you were...missing. The position was held by Chaindog back when you were a Minion."

And we were to meet on the night of your testing. I was to tell you of the hundred magi, and the truth about who you had been. But you were called away, and then you forgot, and I remained silent.

"Serjazul," she continued softly, "you don't remember any of this, do you?" Her tone did not accuse, but she had to ask. "I would ask if you are here in Shattrath seeking us once again, or if it is mere coincidence, but...I don't suppose you would be able to answer me."

[Keeper Of Lore]

Countless years of his disability allowed him to rely on instincts he could not understand, rather than his memory. He smiled sincerely at her now. He could sense a slightest hint of frustration in her inability to somehow relate herself and the Grim with him, despite his long residence with them. He understood those feelings well amongst those he found as "old" friends.

"I wasn't, or perhaps I was! Recently I wasn't, but perhaps I am now..."

His words made perfect sense to him, however upon seeing the expression on Acherontia's face, he realized that they may not to others. He chuckled to himself, and quickly rephrased his statement.

"I can't say if I was or not, though I am smart enough to know that I am currently a hopeless wanderer, Acherontia. Both you and my notes say I 'am Grim,' and I could use any help I could get."

He glanced down at his hand as though to reassure himself.

"I seek the Grim, though, I will need to learn who they are again."