Yva
Guild Member
Zombie Yvas
Posts: 684
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Post by Yva on Sept 30, 2008 13:37:54 GMT -5
Part one, Stormwind, Fedwyn Earthsprung and Threnn Bittertongue.
*****
A small black cat, the size of a normal housecat walks in with a mew, rubbing its face against the well. It's blinking and purring. Threnn smiles as it flips onto its side and starts to lick its paw, its tail lashing.
Threnn: Not many mice around here, kitty. I hear the Lamb puts them in its stew.
Fedwyn: *a voice in her head, very deep, and it rumbles with a purr* Mice don't satisfy my appetite.
Threnn: *startles, then shakes her head and mutters* Don't tell me it's jumped to *me*, now.
Fedwyn: Let me see. It . . . it. Oh yes, your husband. Your dreams of him taste of sadness and fear. Odd, that. Love too, of course, but the fear and the sadness. So very strange.
Threnn: I don't much care for people poking around in my head uninvited.
Fedwyn: I would talk if I could, but I can't. My mouth doesn't work. That's why I'm here. I'm hoping you can help me with that, Healer.
Fedwyn purrs like a kitten.
Threnn: And why me? *squints at the cat, thinking*
Fedwyn: Because you know her, and you love a true dreamer. He cannot heal. Well, let me rephrase. *the cat stands up and trots over, jumping onto the bench beside her* He CAN heal, but he doesn't. He uses his talents otherwise.
Threnn: I know a lot of women. *inches away from the cat*
Fedwyn: Please relax. I mean you no harm. I am simply a druid in need.
Threnn: Don't think I've ever seen a druid appear as a housecat.
Fedwyn: I can choose my size. This seemed less threatening than an enormous panther. I'm trying to be considerate of this unusual situation.
Threnn: We stopped being afraid of panthers and bears running around Stormwind a few years back.
Fedwyn: Not all panthers are animals. Some are millenia old druids. Those ones should warrant some attention, and may cause some consternation.
Fedwyn purrs again.
Threnn: Consternation, hmm? For whom? Your mysterious "her?"
Fedwyn: Ah yes. Her. Priestess Leafwhisper of course. Your friend? Former friend perhaps. It's hard to tell.
Threnn: *mutters something under her breath that might be "feck"*
Fedwyn: I don't know if you pity her, or if you fear her, or if you simply loathe her. Grizelle always had that affect on people.
Threnn: Your presence'd bother Indi?
Fedwyn: It's not approved by the harpies of the temple. They fear she'd regress. You know all this, though. I was there. I saw your kinswoman, your husband.
Threnn: Lots of druids in the temple. You don't sound like Abaris.
Fedwyn: I'm not. I'm Earthsprung. *the tail lashes*
Threnn: You sound like... *shoves herself to the far side of the bench.*
Fedwyn: Come now. No need. I am a dreamwalker.
Threnn: I've heard your voice before.
Fedwyn: Perhaps you have.
Threnn: And Earthsprung's supposed to be dead.
Fedwyn: I am, but the dream called. The slumber of all good druids!
Fedwyn chuckles.
Threnn: They charged Indarra with your murder.
Fedwyn: *the friendliness evaporates* THEY lied. They never had a body. And instead of searching for me, they justified their abuse with suppositions and misdirected blame.
Threnn: Does *she* know that? Or does she think you're crumbling to dust somewhere?
Fedwyn: She believes I'm dead. She dreams of me still. *almost, for a minute, sounds sad*
Threnn: Do you give her the same kinds of nightmares you gave me?
Fedwyn: I don't grant nightmares. I try to show her things, things of old. But their influence is deep. She thrusts those memories away.
Threnn: Good for her.
Fedwyn: We shared great love, like you and your mate. Would you want to forget your mate? *the cat cocks its head to the side*
Threnn: I wouldn't. Not ever.
Fedwyn: I sincerely doubt she'd want to forget her great love too.
Threnn: The last time you were in my head you were a cruel bloody bastard. I have to wonder if she isn't better off without you.
Fedwyn: You faced your fears, though. You faced them and came out the stronger. Now look at you. Healer, wife, friend. *he pauses, his look is pointed* Mother.
Threnn: *stares* How do you...
Fedwyn: I am a druid. The seed of life. It will blossom into strong fruit for you, and you will know joy from it. It is not the terrible thing you thought it would be.
Threnn: It's early yet. You can't know what's to come.
Fedwyn: No, and I do not make nightmares. I see them. You make your dreams, not me. People forget most dreams though. Your mind protects you from them.
Threnn: And you live in them.
Fedwyn: It is my problem, and one I hope to fix. I'd like to live the way I was intended. I would like to prove the priests liars. They blamed my woman for my death, and yet, here I am.
Threnn: So why come to me, then? I have no pull with the Elves.
Fedwyn: I can't GO to them. Do you honestly think I'd want them anyway? Knowing what they did to her? She was arguably stronger than me, and they crushed her. She's a simpering shadow of her former self.
Threnn: She seems happy as she is. Glory for the Alliance. She helped bring down Illidan Stormrage.
Fedwyn: I want you to think very long about what you just said to me, and I want you to tell me you believe she is happy, she who found her crumpled to bits on the beaches and near death. Tell me how HAPPY Indarra Leafwhisper is.
Threnn: That was two years ago. Things have changed since then. The people who were making her miserable are mostly gone. And the ones who are still here - hell, she even talked to Bricu without them fighting.
Fedwyn: I was going to say, convenient way to forget your spouse in the misery argument. *the cat chuckles*
Threnn: I didn't. I know his part in it. He does, too.
Fedwyn: He doesn't really care. And I don't care that he doesn't care. It's just how it is. My point was, though, this woman has been tortured for a millenium. And yes, she has found some comfort at the side of this hunter, but how long shall that last, hmmm? If you bring your books and stories, how long will she be happy then? That is why I'm here. You're about to crush her again, and no one is as well equipped to piece her back together as I am. But I need help.
Threnn: It depends on what she wants to do about it. The ritual's killing her, it seems. Guessing you knew that.
Fedwyn: And yet not continuing the rituals is killing her too, because then she becomes a shadow wielder, and according to the temple, that's punishable by death.
Threnn: Wielding the shadow's not the problem. They taught my sister how to do it. It's that the woman Indarra was was capable of taking out *Legions*.
Fedwyn: That is an exaggeration. It was a small unit, maybe twelve.
Threnn: Is that what you'd put back together?
Fedwyn: I sincerely doubt she'd go back to that. She has no idea who she was, and some of their work was to instill a new morality in her. A new personality. The new personality is proper, and boring, but it is well meaning. I simply want to grant her her memories. She doesn't remember her sisters. She doesn't remember her mother, who was spectacular. That seems too cruel for anyone.
Threnn: And how would you do that without her remembering who she was, too?
Fedwyn: No no. I'm not saying you shouldn't present her with her past. I want you to. I just want to be there for her, to help her with things no one else would know, or remember. To help her brush away the fog.
Threnn: Wouldn't that help bring her back to what the Temple wanted destroyed? Wouldn't that be writing her death sentence?
Fedwyn: You're writing it either way. Keep her uninformed, they'll persist in destroying her mind.
Threnn: So she remembers who she is for a week or a month. They get wind of it, they'll send an army.
Fedwyn: . . . another ritual will KILL her. Even the worst Stormwind criminal goes to the hangman knowing who his parents were. If she's going to die either way, at least let her remember her childhood. Let her remember how happy she and I were.
Threnn: Shouldn't that be her decision? Shouldn't she be allowed to choose the manner of her death, if she can?
Fedwyn: She doesn't even know she's dying, though. Is that how you'll present this?
Threnn: *looks down at her hands* I don't know. We're still working that out.
There is a long pause.
Fedwyn: Her mother was a mighty priestess. A very well respected priestess. *the cat lays down* She was near-celebrity. She had three daughters, Indarra was the oldest. She was also her most talented daughter. Her mother died some time back, her youngest sister too. Her middle sister, though.
The cat begins to purr.
Threnn: She lives?
Fedwyn: She has not been heard from in some time, but we never received word that she died. Sometimes, the kaldorei will just wander off. Like Kaidos, your friend. He would wander.
Threnn: What's her name?
Fedwyn: Evanaya.
Threnn: And where did her talents lie?
Fedwyn: She was a great huntress. There seems to be a bit of wanderlust in every hunter.
Threnn: Suppose there has to be.
Fedwyn: I would think, though, that Indarra would choose to find out about her sister. They were close at one time. I do not envy your position. If you tell her, you will destroy something inside of her. Her faith in her righteousness, which . . . I still argue is not necessarily a bad thing to shatter since it's not really HER righteousness. If you do not tell her, they continue tampering with her, and they kill her. It isn't a very fair choice to have to make.
Threnn: You're leaving something out.
Fedwyn: Oh?
Threnn: If we tell her and it somehow makes her remember, we open ourselves to danger.
Fedwyn: Do you think she'd turn on you?
Threnn: We don't know what causes her to slip.
Fedwyn: Have you done such horrible things to her? She hasn't DONE anything. Not in over a thousand years. She's healed. And healed . . . and healed.
Threnn: But you say that wasn't really her. Will she spare us for telling her out of gratitude, or grind us under her heel like ants?
Fedwyn: It's not how she'd have chosen to live, but she was wise. If she'd seen that there was only ONE way to live, and it was by healing, she'd have done it. It's practical. Any living thing will choose its survival over certain elimination. But they didn't let her choose. They didn't give her a trial. They sent a squadron after her with an order to kill her and she defended herself.
Threnn: Then what would the Indarra - the *Grizelle* - you knew have done?
Fedwyn: And it's hard to say what Indarra will do. Do I think she'd kill the messengers, no. She'd much more likely turn her wrath on the cause of the problem - the temple - who should rightfully be punished for tampering in things they should not be tampering in. They're not GODS, yet they're acting like them.
Threnn: Which makes me responsible for the havoc she wreaks there.
Fedwyn: Interesting choice you have to make. If you tell her, and she remembers, it's your fault. If you don't tell her, and the temple continues their rites, she dies. Then there's me, who's offering you a way out. *the cat purrs* I will own her crimes. Let me make the decision. I just need assistance in helping HER. I don't want her to be a monster. I simply want my woman back, and I'm trapped in this horrible bloody fur.
Threnn: You loved her when she was one.
Fedwyn: Because she's not all bad.
Threnn: You'd be happy with... what did you call her? A simpering shadow?
Fedwyn: I hope for everyone's sake that she takes who she was, and who she's become, and comes to term with both things. From those things, I hope she takes her strongest points and figures out who she wants to be. That person may be someone you'd like. Truly, we can't choose who we will love. People make mistakes, and sometimes, they become better people for them.
Threnn: I don't know enough to make that decision yet. And it's hardly mine alone to make.
Fedwyn: I understand. I think you and I have something in common, if you don't mind me saying.
Threnn: What's that?
Fedwyn: We both love people who lived flawed, sometimes cruel lives, yet here we are. Dedicated to them, and we both have an unending hope that those we love stay happy. Grizelle used to laugh. This Indarra, she does not know how.
The cat stands and stretches.
Threnn: Bricu chose to become who he is now. He wouldn't go back to who he used to be, given the option. I can't say that about Indarra.
Fedwyn: *he peers at her* I can hold onto my hope that she'd heal properly. *He yawns and sniffs the air* If you don't mind me bringing it around to a more selfish part of this conversation . . . I was wondering if you would consider helping me? I can pay you, however you would take compensation. Good dreams, less fears of Northrend. Money, though I'm not sure you need it. All I want is healing . . . so I can speak to Indarra regardless of what you decide to do, perhaps to make my peace with her fate.
Threnn: I don't want you in my head. I'll keep my dreams and fears my own, thanks.
Fedwyn: I don't truly wish to be here, yet I have no choice right now. I've apologized already.
Threnn: What happened to you?
Fedwyn: My body, as you can see. I want my old body back. I want my elf form back. I can't ASK the cenarians to heal me.
Threnn: How'd you lose it, is my question. I can't heal you properly unless I can understand what's wrong.
Fedwyn: I can't, it's broken. I should be able to shift back and I can't. There must be something wrong with the body. A curse I would be able to remove, but there is no curse.
Threnn: *frowns* 's what I'm trying to get at. The *why* of it. When was the last time you *could* shift back?
Fedwyn: *he appears to be thinking hard, if a small cat can look ponderous* Six hundred years ago? It must be magic, perhaps by the priestesses of Elune. I would not be able to see that.
Threnn: *low whistle* But they thought you were dead by then, didn't they? Indi's been . . . Indi much longer than that.
Fedwyn: I don't think they really believe I'm dead. I was an excuse. They keep secrets disgustingly well.
Threnn: Uh. *She peers at him, squinting, and whispering a prayer under her breath. She reaches out to touch him after a moment.* Stop me if you've heard this one before. You're not . . . here.
Fedwyn: Pardons?
Threnn: I can touch you. And hear you. But there's no... presence.
Fedwyn: I'd like to say I understand, but I don't.
Threnn fills her hands with the Light, then passes it along Fedwyn's fur. The glow just holds to her skin for a moment, then dissipates into the air.
Fedwyn curses in Darnassian.
Fedwyn: Now I see.
Threnn: I can touch you, but then again I *can't*.
Fedwyn: Yes yes. I'm going to beg some assistance elsewhere. Not now, mind you, but perhaps sometime soon. There is a place in Moonglade called the Stormrage Barrows Den.
Threnn: I've heard of it.
Fedwyn: The dream is strong there, it has begun to blend with your world. Perhaps there we can pursue this healing there.
Threnn: I've only . . . walked along with someone in a dream before.
Fedwyn: You wouldn't have to BE in the dream. There, in the Barrows Den, you will skip along the edges. But you will stay here, in your Azeroth.
Threnn: Right. When?
Fedwyn: Perhaps tomorrow? I grow weary now. Coming here, out of the dream. It tires me after a time.
Threnn: I imagine it would.
Fedwyn: If tomorrow is not good, there is the day after. You tell me. I am in your debt either way.
Threnn: Friday, I think. Gives me a day to mull this over.
Fedwyn: I really do appreciate your help. And being that I lurk in dreams, I will try to be courteous and not stumble into yours, though it's hard to know sometimes where you are.
Threnn: I haven't done very much yet.
Fedwyn: You are willing to try, and that is more than most people would offer a stranger.
Threnn: Been told I take the tenet of Compassion too much to heart sometimes.
Fedwyn: There's nothing wrong with that. It makes up for everone else who doesn't know how to say the word.
Fedwyn purrs like a kitten.
Threnn: Suppose it might. How do I find you, then, in the Barrow Dens?
Fedwyn: Yes. Or . . . *he thinks* If you wish me to find you, put a single leaf of dreamfoil beneath your pillow. I will know, and we can speak.
Threnn: Right. Think I can find some of that.
Fedwyn: It is plentiful enough.
The cat hops down onto the ground.
Fedwyn: I thank you again, though, for your time. I hope you consider some of what I've said.
Threnn: I will. Got a lot of thinking to do.
Fedwyn: Be well, and nature bless your child.
Fedwyn tries to bow.
Threnn: Be well.
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Yva
Guild Member
Zombie Yvas
Posts: 684
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Post by Yva on Sept 30, 2008 14:08:57 GMT -5
In the caverns, Bricu, Threnn, and Fedwyn.
*****
Fedwyn is sitting in the middle of the cavern, atop the bridge, purring and licking enormous paws. Unlike last time, his size is immense.
Threnn says: There you are.
Bricu crosses his arms.
Fedwyn: Here I am.
Bricu peers around.
Fedwyn: Welcome to the Stormrage Barrows Den, named after the one and only Malfurion Stormrage. If he saw his namesake now, he'd be displeased.
Threnn says: Hell of a place. Not very homey.
Fedwyn nods politely at Bricu and crosses his front paws.
Fedwyn: Well, if the flora could behave itself, it might not be so bad.
Bricu: Not one for lashes, nightmares an' poncy druids?
Fedwyn: What is poncy, precisely? My common is good, but apparently not that good.
Threnn covers her mouth to hide the grin.
Bricu: Poncy is that Tosser in Chief o'Darnassus. Or Delion Oreweave.
Fedwyn: Oreweave. Now THAT is an old name.
The cat almost smiles, showing a hint of long, white fangs.
Fedwyn: And Staghelm is an idiot, but that's not news. Most people with half a brain know that.
Bricu: Wasn't he yer competition?
Fedwyn: Not precisely. *hesitates* Not to bore you, but Stahelm seems to forget he's a placeholder for Malfurion himself. It's not so much a position of elected power; he's just louder than everyone else, and has a modicum of druidic capability. In the absence of Malfurion, you have the idiot who thought he could recreate the Great Tree.
Fedwyn shrugs.
Fedwyn: So no, there's no competition there. I try not to surround myself with loud morons.
Bricu: A good plan ta have.
Threnn: Right. Don't suppose anything's changed since last we spoke? Regarding your condition?
Fedwyn: I am as you see me. Stuck.
Threnn: Hmm. Where would you like to do this, then? Here on the bridge? Elsewhere?
Fedwyn: It is really up to you. I can't get much closer to the dream without disappearing into it.
Threnn: Seems to have the fewest wandering nightmares up this way.
Fedwyn: In the cavern? I will follow you, Misses Al'Cair.
Bricu: It's Bittertongue.
Fedwyn: Yes, of course.
Threnn: That it is.
Fedwyn: Apologies to both of you.
Bricu: After yeh
Threnn: *smirks* Mrs. al'Cair's my mother.
Bricu peers at Threnn searchingly.
Threnn: Be glad you're not dealing with her.
Fedwyn: By your tone I will be glad. Though I have dealt with my share of fussy mothers in my time. I don't suppose Griz . . . Indarra ever told you of hers. Oh right, she doesn't remember her.
The cat's look is sly as he sits down.
Threnn: She and I never really shared family tales over tea, anyway.
Fedwyn: That is too bad. She was quite the conversationalist in her day. Very bright, charming. Always knew the right thing to say.
Threnn: Hmm.
Bricu: Bah.
Fedwyn: You don't look like a sheep, and you don't smell like food.
Fedwyn eyes Bricu up and down.
Bricu: No. I just have sheep's clothin.
Fedwyn: That doesn't surprise me.
Threnn: Well, let's have a look.
Threnn reaches out and touches the cat, to see how solid he is, for starters.
Fedwyn: *waits expectantly* Is it different than in your city?
Threnn pulls the Light into her hands slowly, running them just over Fedwyn's fur.
Threnn: It... yeah, it is.
Fedwyn: Aaaand?
Threnn: Well. It's not skittering off you now. There's that, at least.
Threnn whispers a prayer or two, starting small and working up to larger ones.
Threnn: It's touching you. Should feel all warm and peaceful, yeah? But you're not sick.
Bricu: Unless, o'course, the light doesn't agree with yeh.
Threnn lets her hands fall to her sides, squinting slightly at the cat.
Fedwyn: I've never had a quarrel with the light.
Threnn: Something. Don't know how to say it, exactly. You're healthy as a horse. Or a cat.
Bricu: Big cat.
Fedwyn: *he looks annoyed now* But it's not working.
Threnn: But there's something off, too. Can't put my finger on it.
Fedwyn mutters in Darnassian as he begins to pace.
Threnn: No, it's not working. There's nothing there *to* heal.
Fedwyn: So the light can't help me, and I don't know anyone who's not enough Staghelm's man to try nature's own. I can't HELP her like this. I can't HEAL her like this.
Fedwyn: *the tail lashes and he's shaking his head as he paces* Must be something. Something I'm not considering.
Threnn: I can certainly go back to the Abbey and see what there is to learn.
Fedwyn: Unless I'm mistaken, every ounce of paladin healing is light based, yes?
Threnn: That's right.
Fedwyn: The light can't seem to find or touch this injury. I don't mean to sound defeatest Misses Bittertongue, but the abbey may not hold our answer.
Bricu: It doesn't.
Fedwyn: Sensible assumption. But there must be a way to fix this, because you can clearly see something is wrong with me. A man shouldn't be a cat.
Threnn: I've never had an affinity for anything else.
Bricu: Unless the bloke is more cat than bloke.
Fedwyn: No, and I don't fault you. I was born a kaldorei, and I intend to die as one. But I have to figure out how. *mutters and shakes his head more. As he does so, leaves begin to sprout under his feet, where his paws touch the ground.*
Threnn: It's like something changed you, and that's why I can't touch it, I guess.
Fedwyn: Something. There is no mystery, I'm afraid. I've been in the dream for nearly a millenia.
Threnn: You're not exactly within the bounds, but not far enough out of them to be completely alien.
Fedwyn: So there must be a way to combat the dream's affect. Yes?
Fedwyn looks hopeful.
Threnn: Likely so.
Fedwyn: *The cat stops and hangs his head some* I will need assistance.
Bricu: Figure yeh would.
Fedwyn: But I don't expect charity. I have something that can help you.
Threnn: Help with what?
Bricu: Sorry squire, I've got a policy: I don't help cats.
Fedwyn: I'm not a cat. I'm a man with an unfortunate circumstance. And I'm a man who can help you with your Indarra situation. I can't walk out there. *he nods outside of the den* Too long out there exhausts me to the point I could fade. There are places I can't go. *he pauses* Without the vines of the nightmare plant, I have an hour here and there before I must return. That's not enough time to do anything, really.
Fedwyn looks at both of them.
Threnn: So what do you want?
Fedwyn: If I could find my answers in the dream itself, I would. Believe me. There is a book in Azshara, written long ago called Blood and Sunset, in the Darnassian tongue.
Threnn: Azshara's an awfully big place.
Fedwyn: Grizelle's house is not so big.
Threnn: And my Darn--
Fedwyn nods slowly.
Bricu: Any yeh want us ta bring yeh a book an' some vines?
Fedwyn: Yes.
Threnn: Somehow I doubt either of us would be welcome visitors.
Fedwyn: *sighs* I would go get it myself, but there's no way I could manifest, get into her home, and get back out. Don't you know someone that could get it for you?
Bricu: Squire, I could get it. But why?
Fedwyn: Because it's one of the few records of combatting the nightmare we have left that's not been compromised or edited beyond repair. It has information I need.
Threnn: And you think she's just going to part with it?
Fedwyn: Do you know the names Emeriss, Lethon?
Threnn: I do.
Fedwyn: Yes, good. Smart girl. These books cover the early works dealing with their taint. I should clarify early, by the by. Eight years, maybe nine. The nightmare is a relatively NEW problem. It manifested after the World Tree was destroyed by Archimonde. Some say it's Archimonde's own hand creating the Nightmare, perhaps Hakkar.
Threnn shivers a bit.
Fedwyn: So, the book? WIll give me some pertinent information on the thing that's . . . attached to me. Affecting me.
Threnn: But wouldn't that mean something newer would be better? More research.
Bricu: So, we get this shite for yeh an' yeh then what?
Fedwyn: Tell you whatever you need to know.
Bricu: Yeh tell Indi who she was an' what was done ta her an' she forgives 'em?
Fedwyn: I will tell YOU about Indarra, about anything really. I'm a font of useful information. Or I could tell her if you'd like. I'm willing to handle her. I've handled her at her worst before.
Bricu: Make her forgive?
Fedwyn: I sincerely doubt that telling her her past will simply make her believe it. I also doubt that a thousand years of extensive manipulation won't have its affects. Does the Indarra you know now seem the type to abuse someone because she's angry?
Bricu: The Indi I know isn't really a person after all--she's a creation o'the Temple. Shame on them for makin' such a stodgy proper bitch. But she slips.
Fedwyn laughs.
Threnn: No, but if the memories come back with the telling...
Fedwyn: Well, it's as I told you Misses Bittertongue, you can not tell her and send her to the gallows at the hands of the temple because she continues to slip. Or, you can risk telling her, and then suffer the consequences of wrath you're not even certain will be there.
Bricu: How many kids she kill?
Fedwyn: None. She killed men, not children.
Fedwyn says this with no hesitation.
Fedwyn: Some sentinels too, so some women, but never a child.
Bricu: So what happened ta the wee one?
Fedwyn: You should ask Evanaya that. If you can find her, of course.
Bricu: Her sister? Whatever squire, yeh want my help, yeh answer my questions.
Fedwyn: I am. Evanaya took the child. I'm not being coy. I need you too much to play games.
Threnn: Why would she take it and not return it to its family?
Fedwyn: Because he had no family, and at the time, Evanaya didn't approve of her sister's lifestyle. So instead of letting the boy become an apprentice, she took him.
Bricu: So--he die or what?
Fedwyn: Evanaya was an accomplished huntswoman, so I doubt it, though I'll be honest I haven't seen her in years. She kept outside of the social circles and to her woods. She said animals were better companions than people because they couldn't talk.
Bricu: Charmin'.
Fedwyn: She was harsh. Honest though, I'll give her that.
Bricu: Right, yer lass is in Northrend anyway. We've got time ta get yer bloody book--but what are yeh plannin' with her?
Fedwyn: I'll respect your wishes in this matter. I suppose you, or at least people you know, would have a care for her well being. If you wish to consult with them, I'd understand and act accordingly. If you want me to tell her of her past, I will. If you don't want me to, I won't.
Bricu: She was shite before, she's shite now--but she deserves better.
Threnn: It's more Ulthanon's decision than it is ours, I think.
Bricu: She gets a call in her own fate.
Fedwyn: You should consult with Ulthanon then, or perhaps bring him here. I have no qualms meeting my successor.
Bricu: Sure.
Fedwyn: Now? Later?
Bricu: Sounds brilliant--why the change?
Fedwyn: What change?
Bricu: Yeh been runni' for years. Yeh come back ta save yer lady love now?
Fedwyn: She wasn't in danger of being killed before.
Bricu: An' Ulth ain't yer successor. He's a stand in for Oreweave.
Fedwyn: . . .
The cat looks away and almost seems to be smiling.
Fedwyn: Good to know some things never change.
Threnn blinks.
Fedwyn: Fickle woman.
Bricu: But yeh know squire, why the bloody hell should we help yeh.
Fedwyn: Because the Indarra situation is delicate, and you've opened up a mess and a half.
Bricu: All we'd need ta do is bring Prissy here.
Fedwyn: But if you aren't very very careful, there are things to lose. Would you wrist the wrath of Tyrande?
Bricu doesn't blink.
Bricu: Aye. I would.
Fedwyn just looks at Threnn.
Fedwyn: I see.
Bricu: She's culpable in this.
Threnn: *lifts one shoulder in a shrug* He would.
Bricu: As is Staghelm. An' yeh
Fedwyn: I don't mean to demean you, but Tyrande's people took a ten thousand year old woman and mashed her brain into bits. You're not THAT good. Neither am I. But I at least, already have the smear on my reputation. You can walk away without an ounce of rubbish on you, and her gaze will be averted elsewhere.
Threnn: You assume we've reputations to protect in the first place.
Fedwyn: I'm not really talking social stature, not at all. But you would not do well in that room with those people. No one would.
Bricu: She remembers killin' yeh, yeh know that right?
Fedwyn: Yes, I know.
Bricu: Said yeh were a horrible thing. How horrible were yeh?
Fedwyn: You can shove a book into someone's face and tell them it's proof that they're not who they think they are, but a book is easily dismissed. Living proof of your past? Much harder to chalk up as manufactured truth. And to answer that, I wasn't horrible to her. I ignored a string of lesser men she took to her bed.
Bricu: Och, yer reachin'. I said how horrible were yeh, not how bad were yeh ta her.
Fedwyn: I was as horrible as a politician can be. If you can stomach your Stormwind nobles, I was no worse.
Bricu: Squire, one o'our nobles was a dragon built on destroyin' us. I helped put an end ta her.
Fedwyn: That's excessive. I meant typical. Honestly, if we used Neltharion's minion as an example of how terrible someone is . . . That's a pretty horrible bar to use.
Bricu: yeh set the bar--an' she was a politician
Fedwyn: No she was an evil dragon pretending to be a politician to kill you. I'm not an evil dragon. Think more along the lines of a lesser noble then.
Bricu: No, she was pretendin' ta be human, kinda like yer in a cat skin.
Fedwyn: Mister Bittertongue, I assure you I was born with skin. There's not much pretending. I am a man, I'm simply stuck like this.
Bricu: So yer better than Onyxia--Oh, she told me 'bout yer skin--but better than Fairfax?
Fedwyn: I have no idea who that is.
After a short time.
Fedwyn: What kind of answer do you want from me?
Bricu: I don't rightly know. I want yeh ta sell me on the idea that yer her best hope for a shot at redemption.
Fedwyn: I'm the physical proof of her past. That puts me far above most of the other evidence. I'm also willing to take the heat of Tyrande and leave you two to your lives and your family. Because Tyrande already hates me.
Threnn: Won't taking her heat mean she'll want you both dead?
Bricu: Och, squire, yeh were a politician. I'm not feelin' this sell. Yeh need us ta get yer body back. Play the right angle. Grease the bloody wheels.
Fedwyn: Well, my thought was her seeing me as I was would probably make the whole "physical manifestation of her past" thing a bit easier to relay.
Bricu: That assumes I actually give a toss. Don't think that.
Fedwyn: *pauses a minute* I don't honestly know what wheel to grease other than this: if you don't confront her, she's due to be executed, and you had the power to stop it and you didn't. Perhaps your conscience wouldn't be heavy for it, but I think there are others who would care.
Bricu: They'd get over it.
Fedwyn: Oh, would Kaidos get over it? Knowing you allowed her to die? That could be seen as a betrayal.
Bricu: Eventually. he'd go talk with the fire spirits or someshite. Och. So now yeh need me help an yeh turn ta threats?
Fedwyn: How is that a threat?
Bricu: Grizz is dead, Indarra is dead soon enough.
Fedwyn: Tell me where the threat is there. It's factual.
Bricu peers at Fedwyn searchingly.
Fedwyn: She will die, and people will care that one of you could have stopped it and you didn't. If it's not Kaidos, it will be someone.
Bricu: Only if folk know.
Threnn: Threatening in the sense of what Ulth's reaction would be.
Bricu: That's the implied threat there.
Fedwyn: No, it's a possibility everyone must address. You could lose friendship over that.
Bricu: No, one o'us would die. That's what'd happen. An' I've thought o'that too. Because I am, at least, that good. I'll get yer book--but I expect someting better in return.
Fedwyn: Ask. That's all you ever had to do.
Bricu: I don't have a better angel ta appeal to. So don't try it.
Fedwyn: You make things more complicated than they need to be. And I wouldn't bother trying to appeal to your better side.
Bricu smirks slyly at Fedwyn.
Fedwyn: And if you'd like, I'll tell you why I wouldn't bother. But you likely don't care.
Fedwyn smiles.
Bricu: I know better than ta argue with a cat.
Fedwyn: Please be careful of Tyrande.
Bricu: I won't ask for somethin'. I just expect somethin' big.
Fedwyn: Well, you have no reason to trust me, but you have an even greater reason to not trust her. Or more appropriately, her priestesses.
Bricu: Och. Believe me, I'm a holy man. I know not ta trust holy women.
Fedwyn laughs again.
Fedwyn: You married one.
Threnn: I have moments of unholiness.
Bricu: No squire. She's not holy. She's just a damn fine woman who has a solid heart. Uther was a holy man. Racist bastard too.
Fedwyn: He's far away.
Bricu: No. He's dead. That's Uthas. Who's dead when I find him.
Fedwyn: I'm glad I'm not that man.
Threnn clenches her jaw.
Bricu: Now, I'm gonna go steal shite from yer lady.
Fedwyn: Back bedroom, behind a certain tapestry. She wove you beautifully.
Fedwyn stands.
Threnn glances at Fedwyn.
Threnn: I've seen it.
Fedwyn: It's good work.
Bricu: When we're ready ta deal, we'll let yeh know the same way
Fedwyn: I'll be here. I don't exactly go far. Well, on this plane. Good travels to both of you. See you soon I'm sure.
Threnn: Likely so.
Bricu: Oh aye.
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Post by Bricu on Oct 13, 2008 20:08:13 GMT -5
(this needs to get cleaned up, but I wrote it in Wisconsin. Expect changes.) The flight from Moonglade wasn’t cold, but bricu shivered. He was worried about Earthsprung, Indara, no Grizelle’s, former lover. Fedwyn was all cat smiles and caring eyes—the feature that their kitten displayed when it wanted to be picked up and petted—and that set him on edge. Fedwyn was a slicker than both himself and Tarquin, as old as Ulthanon and Aleros , and full of the often whispered “Nightmare.” He had pulled Threnn in on her sense of right and duty. He pulled Bricu through threnn. All he wanted was a favor—to be petted—but just as their kitten at home, Bricu worried that Fedwyn would turn on them when he got what he wanted. Bricu was sure he could discipline Fedwyn the same way he handled the cat. Every plan he tried to formulate showed how little he knew of the Kaldorei. He knew a few phrases, a bit of history and of their gods and how to punch a druid in the mouth, but he didn’t know anything about the Nightmare, the Emerald Dream or what on azeroth Fedwyn was actually capable of. Not knowing, a lack of knowledge, nothing to base a plan on. It chilled bricu to his core. He was being played, and he didn’t like it. By the time they landed in Darnassus, the city was alive with activity. Merchants, priests and soldiers wandered the streets. They were exhausted. Bricu walked with Threnn to the small house Annalea had recommended they stay at. She was a friend, a fellow priestess, one that wouldn’t ask too many questions of the couple when they knocked on her door. On their way to their room, Bricu and threnn were stopped by a kaldoeri standing in front of her shop. She was dressed in the leathers commonly worn by the druids of the Circle. She addressed them in accented, but fluent, common “My friends, you look traveled and haggard. Come, my wares will help you sleep restfully and peacefully.” Threnn looked to Bricu—he smiled at he and followed her into her shop. There were rows upon rows of herbs, plants, flowers and their derivatives: Potions, exiles, salves and balms. The shopkeeper pointed out a number of items—Threnn listened to each one, comparing them to what []sold back in stormwind.
“Which item would you require?” the druid asked.
“That.” Bricu pointed a dream catcher, made of polished wood, silk thread, feathers and semi-precious stones.
“That is a…” she stammered. Bricu interrupted her. “It’s what I want. Fifty gold? It’ll help yer lot rebuild an’ prepare for yer expedition northward.” The druid smiled and reached up for the dream catcher. “May your nightmares get caught in the web.” “Let’s just try an’ keep nightmares out o’the picture, aye?”
The kaldoeri taken aback by Bricu’s terse statement handed over the dreamcatcher without saying another word. Bricu handed her the gold, and walked out of the shop. Threnn asked for two potions of dreamless sleep, which the druid handed over silently. “Uther’s blessings.” Threnn said then walked out to her husband. “A dreamcatcher?” “I used ta see things things in Silvermoon. Looked like folk art, but some o’them slick ears swore by ‘em. Figured it’d be more useful. ‘Sides, I got a one outta some ruins a few days ago. If a druid wanted it…” “…Then it has to do something other than decoration.” “Aye. Ready ta see if it works?” Threnn smiled, “Very much so.” The paladins walked, arm in arm, towards the room they had reserved.
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Post by Bricu on Oct 13, 2008 20:08:45 GMT -5
Early the next morning, after a traditional Kaldoeri breakfast, the two set out to by hippogryph to Azhara, the province that Indara retreated to so often. The flight was long but uneventful. Threnn took the lead, as she normally did in dealing with Indara. Bricu hung back, smoking and staying to himself. Threnn stopped and waited for Bricu to catch up. He pulled up next to her, still silent. “What are you planning Mr. Bittertongue.”
“Missus,” Bricu said, “I don’t know enough ta even begin ta plan. If Fedwyn made the right move, he’d have me by the stones.” “He’s in my dreams.” Threnn said softly. “I know love. S’why I’m tryin’ ta plan. Ta think ‘bout this. I don’t want him near yeh. I don’t’ want that tosser comin’ close ta yeh. An’ that’s the rub. Fedwyn could have us do damn near anythin’ he wants ‘cause we’d both do whatever it takes for the other. “ “So he’s got us. “..by the stones. I’ve no bloody idea what nightmare vine looks like, do yeh?” “Annie drew a picture for me, but I can’t tell the difference in the leaves.” “probably better that way. We’ll have her cut some…see if we can do a damn thing ‘bout it. Get copies o’the book. That’s all I’ve got. S’not enough.” “What if he is really trying to help her?” “Then I wasted time. What if he’s as bad as I think.” “Well…We’re knights in shining armor. And we own a cat. I think we can deal with an oversized one.” “Yer getting’ better at the gallows humor love.” “I’ve got wonderful teachers.” “Aye, that we are.” They rode to her house in silence.
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Post by Bricu on Oct 13, 2008 20:09:33 GMT -5
Threnn knew they were close when she could hear the haunting, inhuman melodies of the naga. They were lonelier now—less naga—more forlorn but they were still there. She turned to Bricu, who already had one hand on his axe. “Worried?” she asked him. “Don’t care for the Naga, worried that our fair Indara—no, Grizelle—has somethin’ guardin’ her place.” “I’ve never seen one by her cabin. There isn’t even a lock on her door.” “Brilliant. I figure’d Id havce ta try an’ pick the lock.” “When did you start to pick locks” “When I was ten.” “My man of many talents.” Bricu smiled at her, “Och, just a few.” Indara’s cabin was a small, one bedroom affair, made of logs and stone in the Kaldorei style. There were no guardians, locks or inhabitants. The two dismounted, their spiritual mounts fading from view. Threnn walked to open the door. Bricu put a hand on her shoulder to stop her and took the lead. Someone had been here weeks, if not months ago. Clothes were strewn about, properly ordered items were pulled off of shelves. The bed wasn’t made. It wasn’t ransacked, but it wasn’t proper either. “They must’ve left from here. Didn’t bother ta clean up.” Bricu ran a finger through the inch of dust. “Ghosts’ shed all over the place. Strewth, looks like he’s made a wee bit’o a home here.” “At least a way station. Ulth wouldn’t stay here unless he was happy, would he?” Threnn said. Bricu shook his head in response. Threnn walked towards a tapestry depicting a religious ritual. It was hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. “She kept her important things here. “ She lifted up the tapestry to reveal a nook, where a Indara kept her books. Bricu joined her as they looked for the title: Blood and Sunset. Neither of them spoke, or read, Darnassian, but Fedwyn, to his credit, told them what to look for. Threnn reached for the book he described. Bricu pulled out another book, over-sized and leather bound, fitted with paper suited for drawing, and flipped through the pages. She watched as he flipped through her sketch book. Bricu studied each image for a moment before going to the next one. There were simple line drawings of Kaldorei architectures, and detailed ink pictures of sentinels, shop keepers, priestesses and druids. Nothing was familiar to Bricu. “I’ve got the book, we should go.” “Aye, we should, but when else are we gonna have the time ta see who Indara is, who she was, an’ who Grizelle is?” Threnn said nothing. She didn’t need to. When Bricu looked and saw her scowl, he answered her thought. “Oi, love. Ulth loves Indara—and as much as a proper bitch as she is, it’s him I’m worried about. This Grizelle we’ve only seen glimpses of. Inbetween mind smashin’s an’ washin’s. She scares me. I don’t know her. Fedwyn wants ta bring her back so she can die knowin’ who she is. Who she is, or was, is supposed ta be a monster. That’s how the temple treated her—they chained her with a different spirit, but kept her around ‘cause she was a very useful monster.” “I know, but this does not sit right with me. I know this is useful..” “It’s necessary. Oi, its us.” Bricu stopped in mid sentence. He showed her the picture Threnn found almost two years ago. In the charcoal and ink drawing, they were walking, arm and arm, down the avenues of Stormwind. They were both smiling. While Threnn appeared to be bathed in light, Bricu’s shadow was long and menanced both of them. “Strewth, this is what she thinks o’me?” “Does it matter?” Bricu flipped through more images, ones of Delion, ulth and ghost. Even a drawing of the Riders, in front of the Pig and Whistle. Bricu didn’t answer Threnn—he kept looking at the drawing. It was detailed and beautifully drawn. Bricu and Threnn were in the middle, Tarquin and Ceil were in the back, separated by the Stormrunners, Safira and elyle, but their faces spoke of how much closer they wanted to be. Loche, in the shape of Sephir, was next to Tarquin, while Tirith was standing next to Ceil. Lansiron, Genise and Chryste were in the foreground. Neither Delion nor Ulthanon was in this picture. But that was not what drew Bricu’s attention. “Oi, love look at this. The shadow’s are off. The perspective is wonky. Can yeh see it?” Threnn looked closely. “I can. The shadow, it has a shape.” Threnn scanned the drawing closely, the pointed to the roof of the Pig, “That’s what’s casting the shadow. It’s a cat.” Bricu looked to where Threnn was pointing. “Aye, that it is.” The drawing of the cat cast a shadow that the Riders stood on. The image of the shadow appeared to consume the Riders. “Right. Tell me that isn’t somethin’ ta consider.” “Hells, it’s creepy.” “right, I’ve seen …why hello!” Bricu reached past the books in the nook and withdrew a jewelery box. He set it on the table, the put the sketch book back. “What’s in here?” “Jewels fit for Azhara herself.” Threnn muttered. “Yeh’ve seen ‘em?” “When she tried to drown herself, I looked through them. There are pieces in there that are simply stunning.” Bricu opened the box. He skimmed over the exquisite necklaces, tiara’s and rings. “Strewth, some o’these rival the crown jewels o’Stormwind or Ironforge. But these…” Bricu withdrew two items. One was a decieptiy simple necklace of polished wood , gems and some sort of shell held together on a silver chain. The other was a palm sized cat, made of polished ivory. When he picked it up, he felt he weight shift. “These two things love, these are older than the rest. Not somethin’ made for a queen. They’re not as orante as the rest o’the sparklies, but they’re in the same damn box. These things have meanin’…an’ they’re like somethin’ a druid would make. “ “Except the chain.” Threnn said. “Are you keeping those?” “Aye, I am. She may or may not notice they’re gone. But if they got any connection ta Fedwyn, I want ta see if I can just get some traction o’him.” “What if they’re not from him?” “Then I’m wrong—an I’ll get ‘em back ta her. This may be the only lead we get love. It’s either this or…or we continue ta stumble in the dark.” Threnn nodded. “If there was a better way…” “I know love, I know.” Bricu carefully placed the trinkets into his pack. Then heput the jewerlly box back behind the books. Threnn let the tapestry fall back into place. “That it?” Threnn asked. Her tone told Bricu how anxious she was to leave. “Aye, that’s it.” Bricu picked up a silver hair brush, cluttered with Indarra’s hair. He took a handful of her hair from it. “Now let’s go.” The two walked out the door. They were halfway to the door when Threnn broke the silence. “Bricu, what’s her hair for?” “I don’t know love. Insurance? A totem? I’m just tryin’ ta stack the deck in our favor with anythin’ I can.” “I just hope you know what you’re doing.” “Aye, so do I.”
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Post by Bricu on Oct 13, 2008 20:10:46 GMT -5
From Azhara to Darkshore, Darkshore to Menethil, Menethil to Stormwind. By the time they got home to Gilded Rose, they were tired and smelled of travel. They formulated a plan in the grand room of the Inn. “I’ll get us a the bath before we head ta the Pig.” Threnn nodded, “I’ll get us something to drink. Spiced Cider sound good” “Sounds brilliant.” They waited a few moments as their serving girl, Kara Thompson, arrived. She threw her arms around both of them. “Mr. Bricu, Mrs. Threnn, I was hoping I would see you!” “Kara,” Threnn said, “I thought you worked mornings?” “Oh, I was so sick this morning. Bryan filled in for me. He had the worst time. Mercenaries from Forest Song were here, and he said they were dreadful…” Bricu interputed her, “Oi, htat’s terrible Kara. Me an’ the missus need a bath” “and some cider!” “And some spiced cider. Can yeh get that together for us?” “Certainly! I needed to get back there anyway, I’m feeling a might woozy.” She winked at Threnn. “I’ll prepare your baths right away.” Kara disappeared into the back. Alone in the grand room, Bricu and Threnn stared at each other. “Do yeh think…?” “What else could she be hinting at?” “Well. Maybe they’ll have his voice.” Threnn shook her head. “I’m getting us a change of clothes. You be nice.” “Och, I’ll fake nice till we’re alone.” “Deal.” -- Hours later, Bricu and Threnn made their way to the Pig. They were clean and refreshed from their travels, but just as tired. “Annie gonna meet us there?” “That’s the word. She and Fin were going to head up after they finished work on his/her application to the Merchant’s guild.” “That code?” “Oh don’t you dare start. I’m queezy as it is.” “Fine, fine. I’ll keep me mouth shut.” “It doesn’t need to be shut, it just needs to be more careful. I’m a delicate woman.” “An’ I’m a poncey southron.” “I always knew your accent was too good to be true.” “Och, touché love. Touche.” Bricu and Threnn reached the Pig and walked straight to the bar. They ignored their favorite drunks, and went right to Reese. “Reese me ol’pint glass. We’re gonna need ta be settin’ up for a party soon.” Reese opened his mouth to speak, but someone else answered the question. “Really? Who for?” Framed in the front door stood a shaggier, wind-burnt Ulthanon. Ghost was close to his side. He leaned against the wall in the same, non-chalant manner he always had. “STrewth, fer yeh, yeh great bloody tosser!” bricu shouted. “Ulth, you’re safe!” Threnn exclaimed. “Damn right. Figure’d you kids would be up and around here. How’s tricks?” “Crafty an’ well above yer understandin’.” “Bah. You’d be lucky to scam your way out of latrine duty if it wans’t for me.” Threnn cut off Bricu’s retort. “Ulth, where’s Indi?” “She’s in Darnassus. She’s filling her report—she should be back here shortly.” “Brillkiant, gives us time ta plan for yer welcome home party.” “Brick, we may have to cut the parties short. I don’t bring good tidings from the North.” “All things in good time Ulth. We can only handle one crisis at a time.”
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Yva
Guild Member
Zombie Yvas
Posts: 684
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Post by Yva on Oct 16, 2008 12:20:01 GMT -5
Indarra is reading a book.
Threnn approaches quietly, reverent as always in the Cathedral.
Threnn says: Evenin', Indi.
Indarra looks up. She looks tired and for her, unkempt.
Threnn says: Mind if I sit? Indarra says: Good evening Threnn. Of course I don't.
Indarra closes the book and folds her hands on top of it.
Threnn glances at the cover.
Indarra says: You've read it I presume. Threnn says: I have, yeah. Indarra says: It's rather terrible.
Indarra sighs.
Threnn says: It is. There are parts missing, I think. Indarra says: I agree. Threnn says: Does any of it... What do you think about it?
Indarra puts a hand up.
Indarra says: I'd like to talk about your husband and Ulthanon first. This second. Is that fine?
Threnn sighs.
Threnn says: Yeah. 's fine. Indarra says: . . . I spoke with Ulthanon today. His issue is not this book. It is not the discovery of this book. It was the presentation of the book.
Indarra quirks a brow.
Indarra says: A party? It is an odd choice.
Threnn folds her hands.
Threnn says: I don't think I quite realized that was part of the plan. I knew he wanted to show the book to Ulth. Indarra says: Well, considering my past with your husband, I can see why Ulthanon would see this as a public spectacle at my expense. That is how he sees it. And that is why the more important matter. *taps the book cover* is lost in the shuffle. Threnn says: I think he wanted to show him there in case Ulth decided to have the conversation with you right then and there. But I don't know if bringing it up after was always part of the plan or not. Indarra says: Your husband has never liked me. Threnn says: Doesn't surprise me that he wanted people around. If what's in there was to be believed -- You know that's not true. He was with you before he was with me. Even if it was only a short time. Indarra says: He went on a single date with me. That is not with me. Threnn says: 's still not never. Indarra says: Do not tell me you didn't have a date with someone to find them not to your liking. Do you truthfully consider yourself ever with them? We didn't suit. Threnn says: I've had plenty of those dates. But, well, the ones my parents *didn't* set up, if I agreed to a date, I liked something about them. Even if we realized during or after that it wasn't enough. Indarra says: He was handsome. I'm beautiful . . . that is the extent of it.
Indarra shrugs.
Indarra says: Regardless, the venue seemed inappropriate to Ulthanon, I tend to agree. I chalk it up to a misjudgement because of some loathing on his part. I would repair their relationship, though. I wish to have no relationship with your husband, but I have encouraged Ulthanon to talk to Bricu. But only when he is calm. Threnn says: And will he? Indarra says: I do not know. I sincerely doubt Bricu will admit that he misplayed his hand. And as long as Ulthanon is with me, he's going to try to protect me. We're at an impass. Threnn says: I won't try forcing you and Bricu to be friends. I know better. Question is, will Ulth understand that, too? Indarra says: Ulthanon thinks your husband is cruel right now. It is not my job to disprove that. I've said the same many times before. Threnn says: He knows he fucked it up. Said as much at the Pig after. Whatever he was trying to force about didn't work. Indarra says: Then he needs to tell that to Ulthanon, who IS a big enough man to admit his own wrongs. Threnn says: Whether he'd say it to Ulth or not, I don't know. Indarra says: Until he does, they will not repair this. At least Ulthanon still called Bricu family today. That is something.
Indarra's lips twitch.
Threnn says: I'll tell you this, though I'd ask that it stay in this room, yeah? Indarra says: Mmm? Threnn says: After all the things we've been through these last two years, Bricu and I, the Riders, everything. Two years now since he stopped drinking.
Indarra peers at Threnn searchingly.
Threnn says: In all that time, he's never walked up to Elly Langston and asked for a drink until the other night.
Indarra thinks for a moment.
Indarra says: I'm not surprised. Threnn says: I think he knows how damned close he is to losing Ulthanon's friendship. Or that it might be gone completely. Indarra says: I think that, combined with your child, combined with the presence of Uthas and Arthas . . . There is such a thing as too much. And because I recognize those things? I will fight that Kaidos's friendship remains with your husband. If it was up to me I'd never see him again, but it is not just up to me, and it is not what is best for you or for Ulthanon.
Threnn's eyes widen a bit at the mention of the child.
Indarra says: It is not the secret you'd hoped. Threnn says: Suppose not. Indarra says: The point I'm making is, he has much on his plate. And that may be WHY he botched this so badly. Threnn says: Their frienship's older than their relationships with either of us. I don't want to see it end. Indarra says: We are agreed. I would push to involve their common employer then. As a mediator. Threnn says: He can be... hard-headed, stubborn, and, yeah, cruel. I know that. Doesn't mean I condone it.
Indarra thinks, and chooses her words carefully.
Indarra says: That is the first time I've heard you admit that to me. That he can be cruel. By not hearing it, I'd come to the conclusion that your husband was free to do as he pleased . . . without care for your sensitivities. That bothered me. That isn't proper. Threnn says: You haven't exactly wanted to see *me* after the two of you have tangled, either. I've never really had a chance. Indarra says: How am I to ask you to leave your husband's side. Me, who is . . .
Indarra waves a finger over the book.
Indarra says: Potentially so reprehensible neither of us can put it into fitting words. Threnn says: I'm not at his side right now, am I?
Threnn looks around the room. Threnn smiles gently.
Indarra says: No, you're not. I don't know why you'd even want to extend the courtesy to me. In your shoes I likely wouldn't have. But you are here, and that says a great deal about your character. Threnn says: You're a priestess. You talk to all kinds of people, same as I do. You learn that some people'll calm down as soon as their actions are pointed out to them. Others, it'll only make it worse. Indarra says: If Ulthanon and Bricu's anger is left to linger too long, the feelings will harden. It is like clay left on a counter. It will make a cold rock. Threnn says: Trying to separate him and Ulth was the closest I could get, and it didn't work. And Ulth's proud as hell. Can't imagine he'd have responded to me trying to calm him down, either. But they've had a couple of days. Indarra says: Ulthanon is angry.
Threnn nods.
Indarra says: He sees it as an attack on me, done . . not to protect him, but out of a grudge towards me. If that is not what your husband intended, that is how it came out. And explaining intent may fix things. Threnn says: It wasn't borne from a grudge. Indarra says: It definitely seemed it. I didn't even defend myself when he came at me with this, and he still told me to piss off. he also made a few rather rude gestures at me. So how can it come across any other way? Threnn says: I can understand why Ulth'd think that way. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry.
Indarra blinks at you.
Indarra says: It is past. It was handled poorly. We need Bricu to apologize for that, and for Ulthanon to apologize for striking him and making it physically violent. I have no idea how to do that other than the mediation. Threnn says: That might be the best way. They at least exchanged a few words before you two left. It was small, but it was something.
Indarra pauses.
Indarra says: I'm sorry if I'm harsh towards him. He was rude to me.
Indarra clears her throat.
Threnn says: I know. And I'm sorry. Wasn't quite how I imagined it happening.
Indarra nods.
Indarra says: Now then, second line of business.
Indarra taps the book cover.
Threnn watches Indarra.
Indarra says: There is the possibility that my nightmares are Fedwyn's attempts at restoring my memory. My MEMORIES are nightmares. I cannot sleep. It, combined with this book . . . they are compelling. Horrible, but compelling. Threnn says: Do they feel... true? Indarra says: No, but then I have no idea of truth right now. I don't know if you know this, but I was afraid Fedwyn would torture other people that didn't deserve it. I went to the Temple with my fears. I asked them to intervene. Threnn says: I didn't know it. But it wouldn't surprise me. He was in my own dreams, a year or so back. Indarra says: . . . why?
Indarra stares Threnn down.
Indarra says: How do you know him? When did this happen? And why did no one tell me? I could have helped you.
Threnn holds up her hands.
Threnn says: I didn't know who it was. Didn't make that connection until recently.
Indarra shakes her head, her hands flashing with shadows.
Threnn says: I don't even rightly know *why* he did it. Indarra says: Because he's vile. Threnn says: It was a pretty vile dream.
Threnn 's hands leave the table to cover her belly.
Indarra says: I'm sorry. Indarra says: . . . are you all right? Threnn says: Yeah. Just don't like anyone in my head other than myself. Indarra says: . . . tell me about it.
Indarra looks at the book. Indarra looks at Threnn.
Threnn says: You want me to start with why we went looking for it? Indarra says: Please. Threnn says: You've had bouts of... dunno. Impropriety, I guess. Off and on for a while now. Not something most people'd notice, but still there. Right around when I had that dream, you and Aleros fought something fierce about Seylon's baby. The things you said, they weren't *you*.
Indarra listens intently.
Threnn says: The last time you and Bricu fought, you said you'd hurt Ulth. And that there were things you didn't know, or remember. Smaller things, too, just little slips here and there. Guess most people'd think you'd had a bad day or three. But there was one night, few months back, you said something about killing a man. Or men. And when Bricu asked what you meant, you had no idea what he was talking about. Didn't even remember what you'd said half a minute before. So he wanted to see where you'd been. *Who* you'd been. Because that made him worried for Ulth. Indarra says: I see. Let me explain how Ulthanon was harmed? Perhaps that will matter.
Threnn nods.
Indarra says: I'm not sure if it's . . . if it's ME that hurt Ulthanon. I can't say for sure. There was a dream. In the dream, there was a woman. She looked like me. I can only hope she was not me in truth.
Indarra looks embarassed.
Indarra says: She was lying on top of a man. A hurt man. And she was doing . . . lewd things to him. Ulthanon was witnessing this dream . . . he was dream walking or something. I don't know what. His spirits. She saw him. It was like he became part of the dream.
Threnn blinks.
Threnn says: She pulled him into it? Indarra says: She reached for him. Her fingers touched him. His wounds were from where she touched him. She touched him in the dream. When he woke he was burned. I did not touch him in our bed and burn him. In the dream, he was burned. Threnn says: Bloody hell. Indarra says: The woman looked like me IN the dream, but it was not my direct touch in our bed that burned him.
Indarra clears her throat.
Indarra says: And I do think we both know who lurks in dream. And manipulates them. Three weeks ago similar dreams began. Threnn says: Wish I could say it wasn't relevant, but I'd be lying. Indarra says: I haven't rested. I am afraid that if an outsider was pulled into one dream and harmed, another would be. I was afraid he would drive me mad, so I went to my higher ups in the temple. I told them it was Fedwyn. I said I was afraid for my friends, loved ones. They said they would take care of him. After I left, they indeed did hire someone to take care of Fedwyn - in return for his assistance in this endeavor, they would untangle some legal issues he had regarding the death of a Sentinel, an accidental death that is still considered manslaughter by some. The man they hired was Ulthanon Kaidos.
Threnn shakes her head in disgust.
Indarra says: . . . now tell me how I could go to my temple, tell my temple my fears of my loved ones being harmed again, and why they would give this task to him. It makes no sense. Why would they drive a potentially dangerous woman into panic. Threnn says: Never thought the Temple of Elune would be as bad as the Cathedral of Light. Indarra says: I did not know until then what I was dealing with. When they did that to me? I knew something was wrong. When I read the book, I knew they were testing me and trying to push me into the inevitable. Threnn says: But why would they want to push you to that? Cost them a hell of a lot, last time. Indarra says: Because if I become a madwoman and attack them, my death was justifiable. Threnn says: So they don't have the blood of a good priestess on their hands. Indarra says: I have, essentially, two very strong parties wishing me to become what's in that book. Even if I never was that person, Threnn - and even I have to admit I probably was - they both want me like that. And I know there is a part of me that could fall into it. Threnn says: What do you want to do?
Indarra stops for a moment.
Indarra says: Accidentally, your husband helped both of them.
Indarra smiles at you.
Indarra says: He didn't mean to. But he helped them. Threnn says: He's angry at the Temple, believe it or not. Angry for you, and what they've done. Indarra says: They should have just killed me. It would have been cleaner. But now that I have some people who do not find me repulsive, I do not quite want to die yet.
Indarra 's face softens.
Threnn says: And Fedwyn... Think maybe he was trying to take the focus off of *me*. Indarra says: He as in Bricu? That would make sense. You carry a child. Threnn says: Yeah. Bricu was trying to get Fedwyn to look at him for help instead. Fedwyn came to me, first. Here, in Stormwind. Indarra says: What did he want. Threnn says: Wanted me to look at him, see what was wrong with him. He says he can't stop being a cat. Indarra says: That doesn't seem right. He was a brilliant druid. Threnn says: But I couldn't touch him. He wants to be back in his elf-skin because he says he can help you. Which, by help I think he means make you remember. Though he tried convincing me he was being charitable. Indarra says: What will remembering do? I'm not sure I can help doing it, I'm fairly certain I don't want to do it. Threnn says: Remembering unleashes you on the Temple. Indarra says: Does it? I doubt I'd forget who I was forced to become. Living a certain way for a thousand years likely leaves some imprint. Threnn says: 's what he thinks. That if she resurfaces, she'll take revenge. Indarra says: Even if it's nine thousand versus one thousand, I could be fine. Hope. I have hope. I have to, or I am like a Forsaken - walking, but not alive. Threnn says: Hope's the first thing you need. Indarra says: The next thing I need is more proof. I admit this is compelling. I wish I had something more, not written by the hands of liars. Not fabricated by a liar. Threnn says: What else would there be?
Indarra opens her mouth and shuts it.
Threnn raises an eyebrow.
Indarra says: I dreamt of a woman with blue hair. I must find her.
Indarra mutters. "It sounds stupid."
Threnn says: No, it doesn't. Indarra says: I don't know who she is. He keeps showing her to me. She's familiar, one of the few things that feels familiar. He won't tell me who she is, but I must find her and I will.
Threnn bites her lip.
Threnn says: He said you have a sister. It was one of the things he said to try getting me to help. I don't know if it's true.
Indarra peers at the table.
Indarra says: I see. It could be another lie. Another false hope. Threnn says: 's why I didn't say anything. I don't know what's truth with him and what's a lie. Indarra says: It's usually both.
Indarra smiles at you.
Threnn says: I think he weaves them together - yeah. Indarra says: Discounting them is often as dangerous as fully believing them.
Threnn nods.
Indarra sighs.
Threnn says: Doubt it's much help, but I went to see him in Moonglade, to look at him where the Dream is thin. Bricu was with me. There's nothing *wrong* with him. Indarra says: Why did you do that? He is . . . insistent when he wants something. That was dangerous. Threnn says: I thought maybe there was something I was missing. I'm...
Threnn shakes her head ruefully.
Threnn says: I'm too honest. I don't sense schemes the way Bricu does. Thought maybe he'd see through something Fedwyn was saying, catch something I'd missed. Indarra says: He is crafty if nothing else.
Indarra yawns.
Indarra says: I think, though . . . I think we could both use some sleep. Perhaps me more than you, considering I have a feline who will not leave me alone.
Indarra stands.
Threnn stands, too.
Indarra says: Do me a favor and do not go to Moonglade. You may not care for me, but that does not mean . . . Suffice it to say I wish no ill will to befall you. You have a kind heart, and those are rare.
Indarra smiles tightly.
Threnn says: I do care for you. Only went because, heh. Thought maybe we could find a way to outsmart him. Indarra says: Under different circumstances, I would offer my services with your child but my hands.
Indarra holds them up and they're covered in slithering shadows.
Indarra says: . . . if this persists, my midwifing days are done.
Indarra sounds sad about this.
Threnn frowns.
Threnn says: You can't make it stop?
Indarra shakes her head 'no'.
Indarra says: I could never touch shadow. For a thousand years, not one ounce of it. It was a foreign language to me. Now, it comes of its own volition. It's here, on me, but I can't seem to will it away. I have no idea what I'm doing with it. Threnn says: Maybe 'Larra can help you control it? Or my sister? Indarra says: Perhaps. I will work with Ilarra, though she hurt me terribly. It wasn't her fault, of course. How could she know.
Threnn nods.
Indarra says: If your sister is about, perhaps I will talk with her too. It cannot hurt to pursue many avenues. Threnn says: Have you tried taking Dreamless Sleep potions? Indarra says: Yes. They help some. But it's like . . . it's like a melody you can't forget somewhere behind the fog. Threnn says: Hell. All right. We'll think of something. Bunch of clever bloody people around here. Something will come. Indarra says: Thank you. And good night. Threnn says: 'night, Indi.
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Post by Threnn on Oct 23, 2008 11:32:38 GMT -5
Bricu walked out of the Pig for the second time in the night, but the first time under his own power. He walked swiftly, staying out of Cut Throat alley, taking the long way to the Rose. Threnn walked a few steps behind.
She stayed quiet as they passed along the darkened streets, turning the night's events over in her mind. They'd known the situation would be volatile, but it had spun further and further out of control -- ugly words giving way to a single thrown punch, and it hadn't gotten any better from there.
While the paladins were quiet, Stormwind was buzzing - rumors of the North and a missing king kept the city up later than normal. The great room of the Rose was still open when they finally came home. Kara was serving, but she was too busy to acknowledge their presence. Bricu made his way upstairs, shutting out the talk of the North.
Threnn leaned against her workbench and took off the earrings Bricu had given her earlier. She watched as he moved about the room, first checking the dreamcatcher Aleros had made for them, then making sure the original copy of Alathea's journal was still locked in its drawer in his desk. Satisfied for the moment, he crossed to the window and rolled a cigarette.
Idly twisting the copper band on her middle finger, she moved to stand beside him.
"Yeh need ta keep the earrin's on. They're supposed ta help with anythin' with shadow; Ale made 'em." Bricu said as he turned to look at Threnn. He counted off his fingers as he spoke: "Fedwyn, Fane, Ulth. The North. The baby. Strewth, I've got a thirst that's damn near impossible ta beat this time. Damn near. That's the one thing I didn't bloody well think 'bout."
"Fedwyn's a druid. Didn't think I'd have to worry about shadow, coming from him." She sighed, but put them back on anyway. "Think I'm less afraid of the shadow than I am of... of your thirst."
"It's not sha..." Bricu stopped himself in mid sentence. He didn't look up at Threnn as he continued. "When I was lookin' at Elly, an I wanted that bloody drink, she was so scared. Not just o'yeh, but o'me. Maybe even for me."
"She's not all that big. Having two paladins bearing down on her, demanding opposing things..." She shook her head. "Where would it have stopped, if she'd listened to you instead of me?"
"If I could answer that, I would know how t'apologize. In the old days, I'd stop when I pass out. Nowadays...if I was alone, that wouldn't take near as long. I've held off o'Stratholme, voices in me head from the bloody prince an parties here--tanight I almost lost it."
"You've done so well, I just haven't thought -- no, that's not true. I have thought about it. But I didn't ask how you were holding up in case I drew your attention to it and made it worse, I guess. Stupid of me. I should've asked before now."
"Bah, I've been fine. Wouldn't have come close if it wasnt't for that Grizelle's whammy an' that stubborn tosser not seein' through her shite."
"He loves her. Indarra, not Grizelle. No one wants to believe bad things about the person they love. Think maybe he was starting to believe it at the end, though. Also think it was less his being stubborn and more the damage to your friendship that sent you to Elly.
"And I doubt you've been fine. Hiding it well, maybe, but that's different. No bullshitting your wife. Not tonight."
"No bullshite. I've been able ta keep the thirst in check...tonight was rough. What I had hopes was she'd lose it an'let Grizelle through. That's why I wanted Ale an Larra there. An it worked, mostly."
"Mostly. 's hardly over, though. So what happens now?"
"Ale, Haemon, Ilarra an' Annie'll get copies o'Blood an Sunset. I'll ask 'em ta change a passage or two ta delay his ritual...an then I'll work on some sorts talisman ta deal with Grizelle for when Indi dies." Bricu finally looked up,"I'll talk ta Fed tomorrow night, then meet yeh at World's End."
"Oh, right, leave you to go piss off the druid on your own while I sit on my arse and fret a world away. No." She folded her arms and glared up at him.
"Threnny--" Bricu stopped. "What do yeh suggest then, eh?"
"I don't know. But not going by yourself. And certainly not making a bloody bar my hiding spot."
"Fine. Not there. Obaden's apartment in lower city then. Next ta World's End." Bricu calmed down enough to regain his regular compsure. "So yeh wanna come with then? I was gonna put the dreamfoil under me pillow an' just let him know--have folk wake me up an' send me on our way while Ulth figures out how ta kill 'im."
"I want to come with, yes. But," she frowned, "maybe you should do it your own way. He's been in my head before, knows what strings to pull. I'd likely muck it up. Still don't see why you're insisting on Shattrath. We have the dreamcatcher. If I have to be waiting for you, I'd rather it's here, at home."
"cause i'd rather not take the chance at it failin'. for a night or two, we hide. Nothin' wrong with hidin'."
Threnn set her jaw. "A night. One. I don't like hiding, and I have things here that need doing. Also, Outland food and I..." She paused and made a face. "I'm just barely figuring out what I can eat here."
"One day? That won't be 'nough time for Ulth ta kill the bastard. He'll a day just ta find the bloody ta do it." Bricu didn't soften with Threnn, "I'll requisition shite from Honor Hold an' cut out the more exotic spices. We can stay here tanight. Late tomorrow, I'll do the dreamfoil trick, then we gota Honor Hold, then Obaden's.".
"So we're running until Ulth kills him, now? And letting Ulth do it alone?" She folded her arms. "Did you two discuss this plan before or after he punched you in the mouth?"
"After." Bricu said coolly, "When I announced I'm washin' me hands o'this shite. He wants ta save a constructed personality, let 'im. He wants me help, he can ask for it. Otherwise, I'm done."
"He's your friend, whether she is or not. And it might've been just a personality to start, but I'd say she sure as hell grew a real life around it over a thousand years. And that life includes Ulthanon."
"Aye, he's my friend--but helpin' him an her ain't worth the bloody risk ta yeh. Didja hear what Ale was sayin', how bad this can be on yeh? If Fedwyn's as bad as I think he is, I want nothin' ta bloody well do with him."
"Ale said it because you set it up for him. I don't see how you're at any less risk than I am, and yet you're going to go tell Fedwyn where he can shove his nightmare vine."
"When I spoke ta him in the Stormspire, he told me at length o'how one can be hurt from lack o'sleep an' bad dreams--remember Ulth from the last time Fedwyn attacked him? An aye, I'm tellin' him where ta shove it an' his precious book. He's in a dream. He's a whispy fragment o'a thing, stuck in moonglade an' lookin' for a way out. When I wake up, he's outta reach." Bricu paused. "If Ulth wants me help, he can ask for it. I'm not offerin' another thing an' settin up another go'round. Bugger that."
"Actually, it's not so much Ulth that comes to mind when I think of how bad dreams can affect someone. It's you. Seem to remember you not being able to wake up from them, either."
"For the latter, I got a plan, for the former, yeh should see why its a better bloody idea ta get ta Honor Hold sooner."
Threnn stared out the window for a moment. "Fine. We'll go to Honor Hold. But I'm not packing so much as a shirt until we talk about the booze." She looked back to him. "'s not going to get any easier, love. Tonight's going to have consequences. The North's looming closer every godsdamned day. And I'm not getting any less pregnant."
Bricu squinted--as if he just bit into something sour--and then sighed. He sat down at his work bench, turn the chair to face her. "So what do I do?"
Threnn grabbed his hands and pulled him back up. Wrapping herself around him, she whispered in his ear, "I don't know either."
---
Three days after the party, Bricu noticed he had a package in the post. It was from Azazrl, his "man" in Stormspire. Azazril sent it to one of Bricu's safe houses in the Forlorn Caverns. He made his way out to Ironforge, not sure what he would do next. He found himself fishing in the pools of the Cavern. He was lost in thought when he heard his buzz box crackle to life.
"Oi," he said softly. He threw his first cast.
Threnn's voice came through the box loud and clear. 'lo, love."
There were other voices too: Tarquin, Finn, the Stormrunners. Bricu ignored them. His finger brushed the box as he reeled in his line--complete with a small fish.
" s'peacefulhere" he whispered. He set the box to talk to Threnn directly, "So.. Not even a shirt yet?"
"Where's here?" Threnn answered over the box--for everyone to hear. "Ah. Ballacks," he said to the fish. "Ironforge," he said over the box.
He threw another cast into the pool. This time, Threnn answered him privately, "No. Not even a sock."
"I didn't get a chance ta talk with him" Bricu said.
Threnn didn't respond right away. After a few more casts, Threnn spoke up on the box again.
"'s not so peaceful where I'm standing." He could hear the sounds of the Great Forge just behind Threnn's voice. He whispered back to her privately. I'm in the caverns."
Bricu continued to wish while he waited for Threnn to reach him. Nothing but smallfish, too small and bitter to eat, and the occassional mudskipper. He was throwing another cast when threnn saddled up next to him. Still fishing, he winked instead of speaking so as not to spook the fish. Threnn smiled as she waited for him to reel in the line--another mudskipper--to ask him, "How's the fishing?"
"Piss bloody poor." He said. Bricu started to pack up his fishing tackle.
Threnn looked at her husband. His hair was different--he'd had it cut to an almost military length. Shaggier than Storwmind's standards, but much shorter than what he used to have. She studied his face as he answered her qustion.
"Bah, not always. I figure if I fish here, I'm away from booze."
Bricu noticed she was peering at him. "Aye?"
" ...you cut it." She replied.
"I did." Bricu nodded, "I need ta get focused right. Keep meself from fallin' off the wagon."
"Suppose you do. Cutting your hair's going to help that?"
"Got the north, Ulth, Fedwyn-" he paused. "Wait, yeh don't like it?"
"I didn't say that. 's just... different."
"Too many poof's had the longer hair." He winked when Threnn reached up to touch it. "Go ahead."
She gave it a good ruffle. "Huh. I do like it. Have to get used to it, but I do."
"Well that's a good thing."
She hesitated. "Still haven't said how that helps you focus, though."
"Call back ta the Army days Tarq said somethin' 'bout it lookin' like a royal marine. Just callin' up on ol' memories. Ta remember how ta avoid, yeh know, a lapse." They both knew what he meant.
"Is that... they'll help?"
"Maybe. If I look more like a solider... As long as I can keep it tagether..."
"Most soldiers I know tend to do a bit of drinking themselves." Threnn looked down at her hands.
"Aye."
"And what if you can't?"
"Then I don't know. What else is there ta do?"
"Nothing, I suppose."
"Suppose there may be folk here I can talk ta'bout it."
"Folk?"
"Dwarves. Some o'the folk here are moralistic teetotalers. Maybe they can gimme direction."
"True." She sighed. She didn't want to say what she was thinking, but she had to get it out in the open. "Few months ago, love, I'd've said we'd just work through it."
"But now?"
"But now, I'm afraid of having another Winter Veil like that first one. Kind of need you here."
He bristled. "What more can I do Threnn? Eh?"
"I don't know! Maybe nothing! I'm just telling you how I feel. You know, like you're supposed to do when you're married to someone." It was a small dig, but a dig all the same, one she knew he'd rise to.
"I'm goin' home. We can finish this there."
"Lead the way." Bricu ground his teeth
Threnn heard the sounds of the Rose's common room echo through the Forlorn Cavern as Bricu's hearthstone pulled him home. Hers activated seconds later, and she closed her eyes as she felt herself tugged after him. When she opened them again, he was already storming up the stairs.
Kara Thompson was wiping down a table a few feet away. She glanced at Threnn, a question forming on her rosebud lips, but it died unspoken when she saw Threnn's face. The look on hers must have matched Bricu's own. The serving girl went back to minding her own business as the paladin strode out of the common room and after her husband.
Bricu opened the door to their room and stormed in. He threw his pack into a corner then hung up his axe. He was removing his gauntlets when Threnn walked into the room. "The books are in me pack," he said in a monotone.
Threnn didn't bother being gentle when she closed the door. She nodded with satisfaction as the axe and several swords rattled with the crash. "Feck your books. That's not what we were talking about."
"Doesn't look like we're talkin. More like yer yellin'," Bricu said through clenched teeth. "Sounds more like yer shouting at me 'bout how yeh feel I'm not doin' 'nough 'bout my thirst."
She held up one finger. "You've cut your hair." A second. "You've thought about talking to the dwarves. That's all I know. You've held it off for two years - maybe through sheer force of will - but everything seems to be conspiring to break that will." Her hand dropped back to her side. "I'm trying to figure out how to help, and you keep insisting you're fine. You're not."
Bricu rattled off his own points, "One, my hair made me look like a poof. Two, couldn't find a dwarf in the Mystic Ward ta help, and three, if yeh think yellin' is gonna help, think again. I don't have a clue at this. I know it's not brilliant that I want a drink, but Uther's teeth Threnn, it's bloody normal ta want one!"
"I'm not yelling. But if it'll make you talk to me, I'll dig back into my soldiering days and try to match the drill sergeant's volume. I never said it wasn't normal. What I said was, it scared me."
"It scares me too!" Bricu barked. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"Then stop acting like I expect you to carry this all on your own." She pushed away from the door and sat on the edge of the bed. "'Whatever life throws our way,' you said. 'We'll handle it together.' Those were your vows."
"I know what the vows were. But what do yeh want me ta say? I want ta drink it all away? Then yeh say, 'that scares me.' That doesn't make it better. It makes it worse."
"If it's what's going through your mind, then yes. Say it. Just because it scares me doesn't mean I'm going to go curl up gibbering in the corner. You know me better than that."
"I don't expect yeh to gibber. Strewth! But just tellin' me how worried it makes yeh doesn't do anythin' but make it worse!"
She lifted her chin. "Well. I can't call it back. I won't bring it up again. But I'll be damned if some dwarf knows more about what's going on with you than I do."
Bricu ran his fingers through his shorter hair. "Love, the dwarves got folk who had ta quit the drink for similar reasons ta mine. I'm tryin' ta find out how they do it. I'll be damned if I go crawlin' back ta our Cathedral ta talk ta Shadowbreaker."
"I'm not objecting to you talking to them. I don't know enough to help you by myself. Pretty clear on that. But you don't get to shut me out of it, either."
"Oh bloody hell! I'm not shuttin' yeh out! But yeh keep tellin' me yer worried, all I can think o'is, 'I need ta drink.' That isn't helpin' either Threnn!"
"I said it twice, and I told you I wouldn't repeat it. You're the one that keeps bringing us back to it. So, you want to keep dwelling, or do you want to move on?"
Bricu stopped himself. "Oi, I just want ta be done with this. I can't con meself inta not drinkin'. Me nerves are frayed. I'm just... I'm at a loss."
"How've you been doing it so far? I mean, you made up your mind and handed over your booze and that was it." She reached out and traced her fingertips along the back of his hand, but didn't stand up. "Hasn't all been smooth from there. What have you done when things got bad?"
"It's been there. It's always bloody there. I just pushed it back most days. I slipped up when I came back ta'the Pig....that was it. Some days I would work on me jewelry, other days workin' with the kids helped. It just scares me is all.."
"'S nothing wrong with that." Threnn looked up at him. "I'm bloody proud of you, you know. For how well you've done. Been letting you do it on your own for far too long."
"Ballacks. I've not been doin' a damn thing on me own. Yeh've been with me the whole time. Just came close this time ta screwin' up. I'm...sorry."
Rising slowly, she stepped over to him and laced her fingers through his. "You don't have to be sorry. We'll get through this, yeah?"
Bricu pulled Threnn closer, holding her almost as tightly as he could. "Aye. Through this an' anythin' else."
They stood there in silence for a while, arms around one another. Threnn laid her head against his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. The scent of tobacco and woodsmoke enveloped her - his smell - and she nuzzled in closer. A little longer, then she pulled back.
Bricu looked down at her, the strain of the last few days written on his face. The firelight, usually so comforting, made him look all the more ragged. The shadows found every line and deepened them, and hollowed out his eyes. But when he tilted his head, perhaps trying to read her expression, his newly shorn hair caught the glow of the fire. Threnn reached up and touched it, unused to the feel of short strands between her fingertips.
"I do like it," she said. "I think."
"Yeh think?"
"Well, true test comes when you kiss me. Won't know for certain 'til I've run my fingers through it properly."
A little bit of the bleakness left his face as he smiled. It wasn't much, but it was a start. "Best not ta put that off too long, then," he said, and bent to kiss her.
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Yva
Guild Member
Zombie Yvas
Posts: 684
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Post by Yva on Oct 23, 2008 11:50:33 GMT -5
Before bed, he put a piece of dreamfoil beneath his pillow. That was how they'd communicate, that's how Fedwyn would know to find him. He tossed and turned and waited for sleep to come. It took some time, but when the real world finally drifted away, he didn't have to wait long for his unwanted guest.
Bricu dreamed he was in the Arathi Highlands. Though dressed in wool pants and a thick cotton tunic, he could feel the chill of the northern air against his skin. He could smell the clean air with each breath. This would've been a good dream, he thought.
He walked to the top of a hill, turning his face to a late afternoon sun.
"Oi! come out Fedwyn! We're gonna talk,"he shouted.
From behind him there was a loud feline yawn followed up by a telltale purr. "I'm here to listen," Earthsprung said, slipping from a shadow. He padded across the grassy terrain, lifting his nose into the wind, standing so they were side by side. "Lovely place to dream. Familiar for you?"
"All me dreams are familiar squire. They're mine." Bricu grinned at the big cat. "So yeh burned how many bridges over yer lifetime?"
"Not many, truth be told. I keep my friends close, my enemies closer, and all works out in the end. Less people get hurt that way."
"Hurt, right." Bricu turned around and grinned at the big cat. "That explains Ulthanon. Yeh buggered with him for so long, he couldn't sleep. Then there's the Temple. Yer a shite liar, yeh know that right?" Bricu shook his head and then continued. "But yeh didn't hire me fer that. Yeh hired me ta get a book an vines."
Fedwyn settled down until he was lying in the grass, licking a plate sized paw. "I said less people, not all people, and Ulthanon - sadly - decided to wander into dreams he shouldn't wander into. Shadowburns aren't my doing, but they ARE hers." There was a brief pause. "And I didn't hire you, per say, but I won't get into a semantic argument. Did you find the book, then?"
"Grizelle's murders ain't yer fault, Ulth ain't yer fault, the Temple's investigation ain't yer fault. S'all misunderstanding a mistake." Bricu snickered. "I got yer damn book. But, I've decided ta let Indarra pass on an have Grizelle show up."
"Oh? Interested in just having her eliminated now? Because I suppose that's the inevitable, though the other option is she unleashes on the temple." The cat eyed Bricu. "I'm not sure you'd care much if the temple was destroyed, though, would you?"
"I'm think Staghelm, Tyrande an the lot will throw what they can. A bunch o'folk die. The light o'day shines on yer lot an' shite changes. Everyone gets what they have comin'. Unless yeh got a better reason?"
Fedwyn thought for a moment, his tail thudding against the ground as a bird flew by his face. He swiped at it, but it avoided the rake of his claws. "Well, I'm of the opinion that a thousand years of mind rape was penance enough for Indarra's crimes. Some would say that was crueler than death. Considering she doesn't even know what those crimes are anymore, it seems a shame to eliminate a perfectly respectable member of society. A midwife, good healer, someone's lover and someone else's friend." He paused. "But, she's my concern. I offered to take her off of your hands, and I will. If you have the book, of course, which will help me do that. Did you manage to find it?"
"Forced redemption ain't redemption . I agree she's been punished, but she hasn't been forgiven, nor has she worked at it. I think they all have it comin'. But, if yeh think I'll let yeh have her or the book, yer not half as clever as yeh think."
Fedwyn swept his paw across the ground and the tall grasses of Arathi began to wilt. "I didn't suspect you would be so willing. You're not an easy man by any stretch of the imagination."
"I burned it," Bricu said.
"Sadly I don't believe that. We're at an impass."
"No, I did. It's what we humans do: we burn books."
"You're far too crafty to destroy any evidence that might give you a clue to my undoing,” Fedwyn said. “After all, you think I'm the enemy. So . . . I think we can have it your way now." The Arathi winds picked up. Along the dust road, there was a small band of covered wagons, the banners dancing brilliantly in the breeze. A giddy tune played from inside the end wagon, its sides painted a bright green and gold. "Three days," Fedwyn said after a time. “That's what you have.”
"Three days or I dream o'garish wagons? Nah. Here's how it's gonna be. Yeh'll tell me all about Grizelle, Indarra, her rituals an I'll hand over what's left."
"No, I won't. Because you're not the type of person that should be trusted with that type of information. Information is power. I don't think I'm going to feed your ego that way." The cat watched the wagons go by. "Grizelle's trials are not going to be your next bargaining chip. So I will say it again. Three days for the book."
The smirk oozed a across Bricu's face. " Talk o'ego comin' from a cat who used ta be a druid's politician. Right. Want me ta snag a pot from the wagons ta go with yer kettle." Bricu's face went impassive. “Yer used ta dreams an elves. Yeh don't know near enough 'bout me ta play my way."
"Not true. You'd be surprised what can be learned in dream. Truth be told, human dreams have so much more to offer. Their short little lives are almost always cursed by some great tragedy or another, likely because you outbreed us like rats and get exterminated just as easily. Why, in one week's time I saw Northrend, self doubt instilled by overly meddlesome mothers, and decisions that - in retrospect - never should have been made even in the name of a king. It was a feast of self-torture, and that's just in your household alone, nevermind what can be found in the house next door." The cat stopped to catch his breath, his whiskers twitching as another wind blew past them. "Let's be frank. I never said I planned on playing your way. In fact, I'm fairly sure I'm playing my way now, and I've laid my terms on the line. The book, whole, in three days. I tried to be diplomatic until this juncture, and then you decided to take that offer of partnership and botch your confrontation with Grizelle. I dare say you couldn't have done a worse job if you tried. Though both of us know you didn't try very hard when it came to HER, now did you?"
"Och, Yeh can't be frank an' professional. Yeh continue ta be frank, I'll just do me job--which is what I did." Bricu paused and reached for his tobacco pouch. He cursed when he realized he was in a dream. "Bugger. Och, well, I got the book. Then Indarra went ta the temple the minute she got home an' told 'em yeh were back. So, I did the right thing by gettin' rid o'the book. Yeh said it yerself that I didn't want ta get approached by Tyrande. Seems like their already on yer tail."
Bricu started smoking the cigarette that appeared in his hand.
"Yeh know, this is par for the course. Kaldorei demean humanity, blame us for yer own shortcomings an refuse ta take responsibility for yer own actions. Ten years an yeh lot still haven't figured us out. Yer plan was bad from the get go. Indarra turned on yeh, while yer lover is in shadow shackles in priss' mind. Don't stand here an' blame me for yer shite. Don't sit there an say yer diplomatic when yeh attacked Ulth and left yer girl in the wind fer crimes yeh both committed. Don't play the hero when yeh come back at the last minute ta save her either. A hero would've died years ago. Anyway, I've done more for her in the short term than yeh have in a thousand years...but I digress. My dream, my terms. Yeh give me what I want, I'll give yeh what's left o'the book--or the next dream invade are o'me drinkin' the bitter ashes. Yer call kitten."
Fedwyn shrugged. "You do realize Tyrande is more your concern than mine. She dreams just like anyone else, and Malfurion's elsewhere doing . . . who even knows what. Saving our world, likely. As for the rest of it? I just stated what I know you already admitted to. 'I ballacksed it up' is what you said about Indarra, yet now you're blameless for your shoddy execution? Just what, days later?"
The cat swished his tail. "Pot and kettle cliches again, I suppose."
There was another minute of silence between the two before Fedwyn spoke again.
"I'm going to give the ritual to someone, if it's what you're after, but it won't be you. You can put an Un'Goro ape in front of a piano and sheet music but that doesn't mean he'll know how to make a symphony. No, I will give the memory of the ritual to someone who would understand it and maybe - maybe - if she's half as brilliant as I suspect, she'll be able to explain it to you. Me showing you means nothing. Me showing Ilarra Stormrunner, though . . . now that's something. And, as far as I know, she's your cohort. I'm sure she'll be more than willing to explain what is done."
"Glad yeh see it my way." Bricu said with rueful smile. "Now Piss off. I'm gonna enjoy what's left o'me dream."
Earthsprung rose and stretched, his haunches in the air as his claws distended and dug into the earth.
"Three days in Moonglade with the book. I do mean it. We're past being amused with one another, and the sooner we can be rid of each other, I'm sure the better. In the meanwhile, dream well."
The caravan of wagons disappeared as Arathi disappeared. The grasses grew shorter as the landscape around them changed to a thick jungle with crickets and an over-canopy of leaves. A raptor screamed somewhere in the distance, a pard of panthers lazily napped in the trees. Fedwyn walked towards the other cats, shrinking his size as to fit in with the other creatures around him. The only difference between him and the typical leopard was the bright glowing gold of his eyes.
”Three Days, Bittertongue.
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Post by Threnn on Oct 23, 2008 15:53:44 GMT -5
"An' that's for eyein' me Threnny!"
Officer Pomeroy went down like a sack of bricks, the right side of his face already bruising. Threnn couldn't help the grin that flashed across her lips; she'd told Bricu years ago that Pomeroy might have fancied her, once upon a time. She didn't realize he'd been carrying that with him for so long.
More of Stormwind's finest circled her husband warily. Two were already on the cobblestones, either out cold or too dazed to jump back into the fray. Bricu's eyes flicked to the ones still standing, gauging which would try to rush him next. His gloves and gauntlets sat in a heap on the porch of the Five Deadly Venoms, where he'd cast them as the wagon full of guards rolled up.
He'd been spoiling for a fight for days, now. After the past week - his near-relapse, the fight with Ulthanon, dreams of Fedwyn, and - just last night - a path to Stratholme opening in the Caverns of Time - he was at the end of a very frayed rope. Anna had slurred something to her about him trying to provoke Illithias. Threnn suspected her sister had started drinking so she wouldn't be the one slugging away at her own brother-in-law, but Annalea had left that part out, so she let it go.
Still, no drinking and no fighting meant he'd come home restless, working at his jewels for a few minutes, getting up to smoke, drifting over to the paperwork on the desk, abandoning that to polish his armor, rolling more cigarettes... They'd managed to keep from fighting, at least, but even Threnn's old trick of filling her hands with the Light as she rubbed his shoulders failed to soothe him.
So when the city sent a health inspector to the Pig, she should've seen it coming. He stayed close to the girl, knocking her clipboard from her hands, arguing every time she took a step. Skyborne had thought it a game, snatching the clipboard and running off in cat-skin, but when the girl called for the Guard, Bricu's eyes were deadly serious as he strode outside.
Threnn stood back from the fighting, wincing as one of the braver men decided to take him on alone. He was cocky, making a show of throwing off his own gloves and gauntlets and tossing his helm aside. Threnn thought she vaguely recognized him from her days at Northshire Abbey - Brynden Hafgan, she realized, remembering the sandy-haired young man boasting into his cups. Joined up because guard duty was said to be all pay and no work. He'll earn his salary tonight. Probably for the first time, too - his face was far too smooth and unscarred for a supposedly seasoned guardsman.
Brynden dropped into a basic stance, raising his fists and starting his footwork.
Bricu grinned. "Aye, come on, yeh tosser. Enough with the dancin'. Yer not me type."
It didn't take long at all. Brynden tried a few feints; Bricu didn't fall for a one. The first two punches he threw, Bricu simply batted away. With the third, he dropped his guard. Threnn's boxing lessons had lasted all of three days, and even she saw the mistake. Quick as a cat, Bricu stepped back, letting Brynden's punch go wild and throwing him off-balance. Then Bricu's fist came up, connecting with his opponent's jaw with a wet snap.
Brynden went down beside Pomeroy.
"WHO'S NEXT?" Bricu roared. A few of the men stepped back, uncertain. Then one rushed in from behind him, nightstick raised.
Threnn cried out a warning; there was nothing else she could do. When the fighting had started, she'd briefly considered stepping in herself, to try breaking it up. But her armor was on the other side of town, on its stand in their room at the Rose, and if she were hit... Her hands drifted down to cover her stomach. Bad enough that in his current state, Bricu would likely kill anyone who laid a hand on her. If the baby were hurt, too...
No, she'd stay to the side and await the outcome. It wasn't going to be pretty. No need to make things worse.
He hadn't needed her warning. The other guards' gazes had telegraphed the man flying at him already. Bricu whipped around, catching his new assailant by the forearm and twisting. The nightstick clattered to the ground and rolled away. Bricu continued twisting. The guard gritted his teeth against the pain, but stood his ground. His arm had to be near the breaking point.
"You should... have come... quietly," said the guard. "No reason to make... your pretty wife... fret."
"Me Threnny doesn't fret," he said, and the next minute, his forehead collided with the guard's nose. Blood poured down his face and the man's eyes rolled up in his head. Bricu let him drop and turned around to face the rest of the circle. They hadn't been idle during the exchange, spreading out to surround him better.
At a signal from the captain, all of them charged in. Bricu got in a few good hits, but ten men closing in on him was too much. Soon, he had no room to swing. His curses punctuated the fight as they pulled him to the ground. It took three of them to hold him down while two more bound his hands and feet. By the time they hoisted him up to shove him into the waiting wagon, his lip was split, his nose was bloody, and he had a nasty looking cut above his right eye. He held his left hand cradled in his right; Threnn suspected more than a few knuckles might have been broken.
But he was smiling as the horses pulled the cart away, a wide satisfied grin. Not quite the oblivion of a drink, no, but this would carry him for a while.
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Post by Threnn on Oct 23, 2008 15:55:10 GMT -5
Three days after Bricu's arrest...
She used to make Anna kill the spiders.
Growing up in a city that was slowly rebuilding meant that no matter how often your mother swept the tent, or how neatly she packed the food away, come spring, there were bugs.
Flies didn't bother her. Nor did bees, moths, crickets or the crawly things you found on the undersides of rocks. But spiders...
Threnn shuddered.
Anna usually picked them up by a leg (a fat, hairy, TWITCHY leg) and flung them away. "Threnny, they're just spiders," she'd say. "They bring good luck and rain and eat the flies."
This one didn't look like it was doing any of those things.
It had taken up residence in the dreamcatcher Aleros had made for them, sitting atop the green dragon's scale like the king of its own little web. She'd seen it there on waking and launched herself halfway across the room to be sure it wouldn't come leaping at her, hell-bent on taking a bite.
It was still there an hour later, when she returned from breakfast and a bath. Damn Bricu for getting himself arrested. He'd have taken care of it without batting an eye. Maybe it was dead -- it hadn't moved all morning. She took a hesitant step towards the bed. Maybe all she had to do was throw away its dead husk of a body and...
A leg twitched. Before her mind could give the command, Threnn's feet carried her back to the safety of Bricu's workbench.
Not dead, then. Shit.
Her buzzbox sat on the table beside the bed, too close to the enemy for comfort. Not that it mattered, anyway. Anna was already on her way north with Fingold, off to visit his sister in Stromgarde for a few days.
She could go downstairs, ask Kara Thompson to come up and help, but... no. The serving girl would use it as yet another opportunity to be smug. Probably comment on my poor housekeeping skills. Hint that I'm hardly a fit wife for the man who helped her snare her One True Love if I can't get rid of a bloody spider on my own.
A broom leaned against the door. Threnn eyed it, considering. One good whack... But that might break the dreamcatcher. She didn't dare.
"Gods damn it." She edged towards the bed, step by slow, shuffling step. "Hey," she said softly. "Shoo. That's not a web. Not for you, anyway. 's not for rent. Go on." Light, she felt ridiculous, talking to a --
The spider looked up at her.
Or, it would have looked at her, if it had eyes. Instead, it clicked its mandibles together beneath its blank face and... pulsed.
A whimper escaped Threnn's throat, but she resisted the urge to flee. This close up, she could see how very fat it was, its body grossly disproportionate to its legs. Too fat to do much of anything. Too fat to leap, or bite, or...
She wasn't doing a very good job at convincing herself.
Retreating a few steps, she began pacing before the window, glancing at the dreamcatcher and its occupant every time she turned. "I'm a paladin," she said aloud. "I've fought demons and the scourge without a tremor. I survived Thomas Maunt and dragged my husband out of Stratholme. I've been face to face with troll gods, a firelord, and Illidan godsdamned Stormrage."
She whipped around and strode towards the bed. "I will not be afraid of a fecking spider." Her hand didn't shake when she reached for it, taking hold of its distended body. It lifted easily off of the dreamcatcher, almost as though it wanted her to pick it up. Grinning wildly, triumphantly, Threnn turned towards the window, ready to fling the bloody thing out onto the street.
The spider burst in her hand.
From one fat spider exploded hundreds -- no, thousands -- of tiny ones, skittering out of their host's body and swarming over Threnn's arm. At first, she could only moan, a low sound of terror that grew as the wave surged along. Some dripped off, falling to the floor and scuttling away -- under the bed, towards the window, towards the door -- but most continued towards her elbow, her shoulder, flowing like a mad tide of grey along her body.
She waved her arm about madly, striking at them with her other hand. Some of them smeared beneath her swipes, but there were so many. Too many. They crawled into the cuffs of her shirt, down the back of her collar. Their legs brushed along the back of her neck; they were in her hair.
She closed her mouth, her eyes (Get them off, get them off get them off), and fumbled her way over to the desk, where she'd set down a pitcher of water. The cold of it shocked her as she poured it over her head, hoping to flush them away. It worked, a little.
Enough for her to draw breath and scream.
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Yva
Guild Member
Zombie Yvas
Posts: 684
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Post by Yva on Oct 24, 2008 0:55:32 GMT -5
Fedwyn approached the woman's dreams with a smile.
Bricu Bittertongue was an arrogant fool. He thought he was so bloody clever, always trying to be four steps ahead of everyone, anticipating his 'true motives'. Earthspring had been twelve steps ahead since the day he was born nine thousand years ago. You didn't outmaneuver Kaldorei royalty without a damn good plan, and he was the king of the plan, the king of maneuvering.
The human was a novice playing at a master's game.
“I can help Indarra,” he'd said to him, and he'd meant it. “But I can't do it without the help of Blood and Sunset to regain my own skin.” That was true as well. Lies were easy, but well placed truths were infinitely more effective. Leaving the unsavory details out spared unnecessary pleasantness.
After the discussion, he'd left Moonglade and he'd waited, counting on human predictability. Curiosity and that dark desire to out-think his opponent drove Bittertongue onward, as he'd known it would, and the paladin went to Azshara. Of course, Bricu had no intention of handing the book over, but he would sate his own curiosity, he would crack the old seals to plunder the secrets from within.
Sure enough, he gave it to his sister in law to read, to translate, and that's all Fedwyn ever needed or wanted in the first place. The physical book was useless when the memory of its contents were ripe in Annalea Al'Cair's perfectly healthy mind.
They're so miserably dull at times.
The thin blond girl was dreaming of music, of sitting in a pub and singing to a crowd. It was a simple happy dream, one that she'd forget before she even woke, but that wasn't what Fedwyn needed right then. He peered at her mind, peered at the things swirling beneath the surface of this benign little scene, and he found Him.
He'd do nicely.
He was tall, he was dark haired, and he had a claw hand. In the real world it was fingers melted together in a lump of misshapen flesh, but here, it would be a true claw, like a skittering crab on the shores of Auberdine. Fedwyn plucked him from her thoughts like a lute player plucks a well loved chord.
He planted the man in the corner of the pub, in some thicker shadows, and he waited til Annalea finished her set. It was the least he could do.
She stood from her bench, the wooden beads in her hair clicking in time with the gentle Goldshire applause. She waved and smiled, swinging her instrument over her shoulder as she headed for the staff door of the Lion's Pride. Fedwyn looked at his manufactured shadows and pulled Fane forward, giving the man his dark task. He watched him follow the songstress out the back, as quiet as a church mouse as he trailed her steps to Stormwind.
Fedwyn found shadows too, slinking into the black of the dreamscape night. He and his new partner in crime waited until they were by the horse pastures just south of the city before striking. Anna was oblivious; she hummed as she moved, thinking only of returning to her room – and her bed – with Fingold Edour.
Lusty little thing.
Fedwyn laughed, and the priestess stopped in her tracks, her song dying in the cold autumn wind. Above her, there was the flutter of wings, and if it weren't near midnight she'd think it was a bird. Now, she knew better. It was a bat.
Fane capitalized on the moment, stepping in behind her with a choke hold. His leg swept beneath her robes, his foot hooking around her ankle and pulling her down. She screamed and tried to call for her shadows to protect her, for a shield or some other magic, but Fedwyn tsk'ed and pulled those staples away, manifesting from the blackness in an oily heap. His eyes appeared, then his feet and claws.
“No, my dear. I can't have you using that here.”
Anna thrashed at her captor, her elbow swinging back, and Fane grunted as she hit him in the stomach. Fedwyn rolled his eyes, wondering why everyone in dream was so bloody useless, and with a small hiss and a sweep of his paw, Anna's legs suddenly went numb, jelly numb, like she had no bones. Her eyes went huge as she sank to the ground, Fane guiding her onto her back. She tried to fight, but there was no fight left because the cat had willed it away.
Her lute fell to the ground with a thud.
Fane half laid on top of her, using his weight to pin her. She opened her mouth to scream, but Fedwyn took her voice too, allowing the nightmare to swallow her sounds.
“Keep her held,” he told his shadowy helper, and Fane put his knees on either side of her waist. His hand and claw went around the priestess's neck, and he squeezed a bit too tightly, a cruel smiling twisting his thin lips as she gurgled.
Fedwyn rolled his head around on his neck, waiting for the crack of his spine before approaching her. Her eyes, slate gray and terrified, flicked between the cat and the man atop her, unsure of the bigger threat. Her lips moved wordlessly. The cat lowered his head beside her ear, and he whispered through a dull purr.
“I'd like to tell you that I gave your brother-in-law the opportunity to play nicely. He chose not to give me the book I asked for – the one he had you read. That means, sadly, I have to take it from you by force. I'd tell you that this wasn't going to hurt, but I try not to lie. When they used to do this to Indarra in the Temple, she'd scream for hours.”
Annalea's struggles began anew, but it didn't matter. Fedwyn nodded and Fane began to squeeze. There was a burning in her throat, her air went away, and Fedwyn put a huge paw on her forehead. All she saw was bright light and then, a pair of golden cat eyes.
She'd have screamed as the pain started, but the nightmare had eaten her voice.
Her hours of agony were spent in eerie silence.
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Yva
Guild Member
Zombie Yvas
Posts: 684
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Post by Yva on Oct 24, 2008 1:12:03 GMT -5
The scourge was closing in on the group.
The Northrend snow was matted and bloodied. There were splotches of black there that he didn't want to identify; he couldn't tell if it came from fallen compatriots or the enemies. He didn't right care at the moment, either. There were too many other things going on to worry about the ground beneath his feet
Gunshots fired, a hunter fell to his right. His hands lit with healing energy as he helped the dwarf up. Arctic winds blew into his face, nearly blinding him, but he was able to sense the distress. The light found its mark, mending broken flesh together. Fingold knew he'd kept another alive, but he wasn't sure how long he could continue: his resources were dwindling as the allied numbers dwindled.
We have to cut through. We need a way out or we will DIE here.
He shouted to the commander, motioning at a thin patch they'd managed to cut through the undead. The elf captain nodded and pushed them in that direction. Arcane magic flew at him, and Fingold protected himself behind the light, using his holy shields to deter the attacks. A gnome warlock fell with a scream behind him. He didn't have time to get her. They had to move or they'd be lost.
So sorry. So very very sorry.
Greatswords began cutting through the rotters. Limbs, heads, guts . . . everything unimaginable flew by his face. The foul stench of scourge blood made the bile rise in his throat.
“They keep coming!” Someone said behind him, and he nodded, his hands lighting with more healing to keep his captain alive. The kaldorei had used his horse to shove through the masses and was taking more damage. Fin knew his duty; keep him alive so he too could live.
Annalea.
A ragged, feminine laughter bubbled from his left, and Fin pulled the mallet from his waist, ready to defend. Clawed finger manacled his wrist, and he bellowed as he lifted the hammer in the air, ready to strike the half rotten woman down.
“Not me. You won't strike ME.”
It took a moment for the words to penetrate his skull, and Fin lifted his head, peering at this enemy through the slits of his visor. Her cheeks were hollow, patches of bone showing through too thin skin. Her teeth were cracked and covered in a green gook that smelled as foul as it looked.
“You come to play the hero up north, and look at what you left behind. Me. You left ME behind in Stromgarde and HE TOOK ME. You were all I had left.” She hissed, and the reptilian sound sent a shiver down his spine.
“Who are you! Who are you?!”
The fetid breath blasted him in the face once more, and he brought his hammer down on the fingers still latched to him. There was a sickening crackle as he broke something off of the risen corpse, but she registered no pain. There was only a hoarse laughter as she reached for him again.
“Look at me. LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID.”
He raised the hammer one last time, ready to end this. The captain was calling for retreat, they'd cut the necessary path, but he was held by something in the deader's face, in her words, that he couldn't immediately discount. Her hair was matted and oily but, at one time, it had been a pretty dusky brown. He wasn't sure how he knew what color it was, but he did.
Why do I know you?
She pulled her rubbery lips into a smile. “LOOK AT ME, FINGOLD EDOUR.”
And he did. He truly looked at her, seeing past the rot and decay, truly hearing the words for the first time as they spilled into his ears like the world's worst melody.
“Dear Light. Celine? CELINE?”
Her only answer was another gust of dead laughter.
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Yva
Guild Member
Zombie Yvas
Posts: 684
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Post by Yva on Oct 24, 2008 10:01:41 GMT -5
In fairy tales, there were things young girls should never play with. For Sleeping Beauty, it was a spinning wheel. For Snow White it was her wicked step-mother's poisoned apple. For Nerida O'Connaugh, it was the purple shard on the floor.
It seemed like something any baby would have picked up given the opportunity. It was shiny and glittering, and it pulsed every few seconds like a light was throbbing inside. To a one year old, the shard resembled a toy just as much as a plushy murloc or a leather ball, and so she crawled over to it and promptly grabbed it in her chubby hands.
She was content to just hold it for a few moments, but then the inevitable occurred and she stuck it into her mouth, sucking on it like a bottle. It fizzed on her tongue, making soft little hissing noises that made her laugh.
It was the laughter that drew Norra from the kitchen.
Norra couldn't tell what Nerida was playing with, only that it was oddly shaped and shiny. She squinted as she approached, trying to figure out what the baby had found as she wiped her hands on her robe. The house was fairly clean, and she couldn't recall leaving anything on the floor other than blankets and a few baby toys. She knew well enough how busy toddlers could be. It was beyond bizarre, then, to discover her daughter had an enchanter's shard. Neither she nor Shael knew how to use the stuff, and she hadn't had any guests over that would be careless enough to leave that behind.
"No putting things in your mouth, young lady. You could choke," she gently chided.
The little girl gurgled and whined as her mother tugged on the shard, pulling it from her mouth with a loud POP! When Norra had it in hand, Nerida began to wail, wanting it back very badly if the loudness of her cries was any indication. The bellowing just got louder as Norra brought the thing to the lamp to better examine it, curious at its origins.
There didn't seem to be anything extraordinary about the crystal - it was eight sided and about the length of her palm. As she flipped it over in her hand, a prismatic rainbow spilled across her wall. She watched the colorful lights dance, and that was when she realized how dizzy she was feeling. A sudden wave of nausea spiraled up from her belly. She winced, staggering back to force herself to sit in the chair by the fire. Nerida was still crying over the loss of her toy, which wasn't making Norra's now-throbbing temples any better.
"Sweetie, please," she said on a half-choked gasp.
Neri continued to cry.
Norra's hands fumbled with the box on her waist. She tried to push the talk button, to contact her husband to let him know something was wrong, but her hands were shaking and . . . blue. Her hands were glowing a bright blue. Her eyes grew wide as she lifted her arm, boggling at the prismatic lights flickering beneath her skin. Something was illuminating her from the inside, and she could see every vein as it pulsed with foreign energy.
If she stared long enough, she could actually see her blood flow through her arm.
Sweats came, and then shuddering. Her throat began to close and she dropped the shard into her lap. It glowed now, too, the same brilliant blue as what was coursing down her body. Norra tried again for her box, tried to stab the button with the fat part of her palm, but it was no use. She was trembling like the autumn leaf on the branch and her movements were too impaired.
She forced herself to standing, forced herself to try and make it to the door and get outside to the Stormwind streets for help, but another bout of dizziness threw her equilibrium too far off and she fell, stumbling onto the floor and onto her side. Nerida crawled over to her mother, screaming and crying her distress, but it was no use – Norra couldn't make the words come to comfort her child. The blue light had gone from her hands to her middle, and then to her chest, and she could feel a strange heat rising to her throat that prevented normal breathing, never mind something as difficult as speech.
She twitched once and then she coughed, dragging huge torrents of air into her lungs as the seizure took her. Her eyes rolled into her head, her heart began to beat as fast as a hummingbird's wing, the blue light pulsing inside of her so bright she was casting shadows on the wall..
When at last it was done and her vision was splintering into a dark fog, she wondered what the crystal was, where Shael was, and what was going to happen to Nerida and Avers. The thoughts were little wisps of grief before the bad sleep came and took consciousness away.
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Yva
Guild Member
Zombie Yvas
Posts: 684
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Post by Yva on Oct 24, 2008 10:02:30 GMT -5
The first glimmers had started in Booty Bay, with the disease quickly spreading to Westfall, then Goldshire, then Stormwind. Rumors were rampant that it was in the blankets again, as it had been with Uthas's plague, and the Lordaeron plague before it. There was far too much repetition in the tactics; sooner or later they'd find a new, uglier way.
She was tired, she was overworked, but she was home, and that was infinitely better than where she'd been hours before. She forced her frowns away as she opened the door, waiting expectantly for Tobias and Jaina. Seeing them playing on the floor of the foyer, a real smile bloomed, and she stooped over to hug them.
"Where've you been, Mommy?"
"Healing the sick." Shaila smiled at her daughter. She turned to lay her shawl over the back of the chair with a weary sigh.
There'd been so many of them suffering, and the disease was so tenacious. If the job had required blades she'd have been more comfortable. She didn't doubt her healing capabilities; she just wanted to eliminate the source of the contamination – as in the man responsible – not just cure the hurt he'd inflicted. Something in the back of her brain told her that patching the damage of the plague was a band aid, not a true cure.
"Mommy look, I'm a priestess too!"
Shaila turned and looked at her daughter, who'd grabbed the shawl and thrown it over her head and shoulders. Most of her face was hidden by the pale blue fabric. Only two enormous eyes blinked from inside the wad of fabric.
"You certainly are."
She laughed, and Jaina laughed, which made Tobias giggle too, clapping excitedly as his mother swept him up in her arms to snuggle her nose into his neck.
It was only later she'd regret leaving the shawl on the chair.
*****
Two days later they called her away.
Most of the Roses were helping Stormwind recover from the Lich King's infection, and Shaila was no different. She listened to each of her guildmates prattle on about their efforts, and every once in a while they'd ask her for advice or instruction, as "their officer" they valued her input, but she couldn't think of much clever to say outside of "Do the best you can". There were few times she regretted the authority she had over others, but this was one of them. Her station didn't give her any more valuable insight than anyone else, yet they expected wisdom and guidance.
I'm not even sure I'm qualified to do this, she thought to herself with a shake of her head. She didn't like the regularity she found herself thinking that. Doubt ate at her, moreso since Rhel's return.
Chelody.
Shaila's pace picked up as she walked through the Trade District. She didn't want to think about Chelody right then, or really anytime soon, all things considered. Life was complicated enough with relationship worries, and . . .
"Shaila!" Her gnomebox began to vibrate as the babysitter's voice cut through. "Shaila pick up now." The urgency was palpable, and she felt a knot of tension growing in her stomach. She knew before she said a word that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
"What's happened?" she said, pushing the red button. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
"The kids. They're sick. Can you come home right away?"
"Oh Light, what's wrong?"
"Fevers, vomiting. Jaina's got red beneath her eyes and Tobias is . . . he's so hot I'm getting a tub of cold water together. I don't know what else to do. "
Shaila dropped the gnomebox and ran all the way to the stables, her legs pumping faster than a blur. She knew the symptoms, she knew what was wrong with them even though she didn't want to give voice to it.
Not my babies. No. How? HOW. They didn't live in the city, it hadn't spread to that part of Elwynn.
The shawl didn't occur to her until she was standing in the stirrups of her saddle and careening through Elwynn at breakneck speed. Thinking back to Jaina standing there, smiling as she played dress up made her gag.
But how did they get it and not me?
The answer, she knew, was it didn't matter.
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