Curses and more

She stood in a blank expanse of white, looking up towards the sky. The falling snow caught in her eyelashes and melted on her cheeks. The world seemed silent. As she brought her eyes down, she found the area was not white, but splashed with red. There were bodies littered around her, cultists by the look of their garb. The snow crunched beneath her feet as she walked towards the nearest cultist, nudging it with her foot. It looked to be female by the shape, and she nudged harder to roll the woman over.

The face that looked up at her was familiar, and suddenly the body was dressed in equally familiar plate armor. The blonde hair was singed and matted with blood, but there was no mistaking it. As she stumbled away from Dorri’tow, she glanced around. What were once cultists were now faces she knew; all closely, one intimately. She backed up from the arc of blood and corpses, tripping over her own robes. As she struggled to get her footing she saw that she was leaving a trail of blood herself. She looked down to find that her robes were covered in it; blood was dripping from her hands. The voices began to roar in her ears so loudly that she placed her hands over them as if to block the sound out. The corpse of Dorri’tow turned to look at her as she sat in the snow, and gave her a feral grin.

Katanya felt the bile rising in her throat before she was fully awake. She tumbled out of bed and raced for the bathroom, bruising her knee on a side table on the way. She barely made it as she began to retch, her already empty stomach contracting painfully. After several minutes, she sat dazed on the floor, her eyes filled with tears. With a cry of frustration she brought her fist down. Unfortunately, she didn’t look before she did this and her fist connected solidly with a good sized hand mirror. The sound of glass shattering startled her, and she stared for a few moments at the long cut going down the outside of her forearm. A soft “Oh!” escaped as she rushed to find a towel to wrap her arm in to attempt to stop the bleeding.

The cut was obviously not deep, but in the end she decided it would be wiser to seek a healer than to try to bandage it herself. There was no telling if there was any glass left in it or not. She looked around the room. Dir wasn’t home at the moment; she could clean it up later. She eyed the cut again. The woman at the first aid shop was more than capable of taking care of it; there was no reason to bother Dir or anyone else over it. Perhaps after that she ought to go out and get some work done. Maybe she could clear her head that way, work off some of her built up anger. Yes, that was a good idea. Work for the Crusade. Be productive. With a confident nod she set off towards the Dalaran first aid shop. Read More…

I can see her riding here every day. Her hair is a shock of color against the endless expanse of white snow. The strange black and white thing she calls a “Zhevra” carries an oversized imp on the back of her saddle without complaint. Every day, without fail, she comes to see me. I don’t think she knows she does. I come in to land when I see her riding. Every day, I carry her to the top of our temple. She’s a tiny little thing, I barely notice the weight. Every day she sits there and watches. She mourns the loss she sees; not just our kind, but those we fight too. But she understands the need, and every day she rides into battle with us. I wish it were me who carried her, but others beat me to the chance. I find it strange to see one of her kind like this. Many come and help, yes, but rarely do they feel the impact of the lives they must take. It’s stranger still to see this from a Warlock. She intrigues me.

Some days she brings another little Elf; a male with a cat and a gun. She smiles and laughs when she brings him, and I know she hasn’t come to mourn. They fight together, and I am jealous. Somehow I think she would frown at me if I were to hurt the boy. And he helps our people as well, he handles his partner with a gentle hand; when he goes to choose one of them to fly with, they vie for his attentions. No, I suppose I should leave him be. He’s interesting enough. But I see the way he looks at her when she’s looking the other way. I don’t think she realizes it. I also don’t think he notices the affection that is sometimes in her eyes, the worry as she looks him over and determines if he’ll be safe. I wish she looked at me like that.

I’ve carried her out to the Kalu’ak camps; I’ve watched her help bring them young Wolvar. She runs from the Den mothers to prevent killing them. It seems almost silly, to allow them to attack without retaliating. It makes me want to burn them, to protect her. I’ve watched her help the Reef Cows find mates by attracting them with food. She doesn’t seem to mind dealing with the fish, unlike many of their females I’ve seen. I like to watch her swim. But some days she comes to the Temple with the scent of the sea stuck to her skin, and I know I won’t get to watch her work. It’s those days she sits, and I sit with her. I wonder if she knows it’s always me? She brings treats, sweet pastries and cakes, and always has enough for me. I see the way the imp glares at me. I can’t decide if it’s jealous that she’s giving away “his” treats, or if it’s jealous I draw attention away from it. I suspect it might be both. I wonder if she’d notice if I ate the imp on accident? This is something to keep in mind.

——————————–

I’ve continued to follow the Warlock lately. She’s been around the little Elf male more often now, and the level of affection has slowly grown between them. Still, it’s easy to tell that something is missing for her. I don’t trust this little male. I suspect his intentions are impure. Regardless, he does seem to help the sadness I see when she comes to us alone. Those days she’ll sit at the top of our temple and stare out at nothing, always on the verge of tears. I’ve tried to comfort her. I’ve laid my head on her shoulder; she pets me, but doesn’t seem to really be here. Her mind and heart are both far away, in some place I cannot follow. I wonder what it is that hurts her so? I’ve heard her speak over a strange stone with another male, one she calls “love”. Perhaps that’s the source of her pain. I wonder if I should kill it?

When she brings the little male to work with her, he manages to freeze the Den mothers while they take the young. Much more humane than killing them, I have to give him credit for that. And far easier to watch than her getting torn apart. At least then if anyone is injured, it’s the male. I don’t think I care for him, but when he falls over so dramatically (I could have sworn he was dead, I cheered a little bit admittedly) it makes her laugh. At first I was very confused. Why was she laughing at his death? But then he hopped back up and they were moving again, on to another camp. Strange little Elf. Still, the more I watch it, the more funny it becomes. He over plays it, but it never fails to confused the Den mothers.

She’s taken in a pretty little Bronze female as well. From what I understand, the Warlock helped to save her. However, she refuses to speak with the woman. She’s offended by the demons and the scent of fel-taint. Foolish little Bronze, can’t see well enough what rides on her back. She does, however, seem to have taken a liking to the little male Elf. Perhaps with a bit of encouragement, his attentions can be transferred away from my Warlock and to the Bronze. Yes, I’m sure the Bronze would be suitable enough if she chose an Elven form. It might be a wise idea to mention this to her. I should probably corner her.

((This is an as of yet unfinished piece. So I’m only posting the first half for now. This was written with the help of lots of people! SO MANY PEOPLE!))

“I’ll admit it. It wasn’t the wisest move I’ve ever made. It was just that he was practically in sight and I could almost feel my fingers around his neck. Busting down the door seemed a logical course of action. Would it help if I promise to leave all future doors intact?” Dir slammed down his mug of burnwine. “So, what now?”

“The only reason you broke the door is because you were two steps ahead of me. Ryn or I would have done the same.” She shrugged slightly at Katanya’s sigh. “For now, Alanth’s plan will work. We just wait until the idiot signals and then move in. Provided you can keep the guards away like you said, Dir, we shouldn’t have much trouble at all. He’s just one guy.”

Dir gave a naughty grin. “I have a few friends in the Guards. I’ll pull in a few favors where I can and bribe the rest.”

Kat sighed again. “Are you sure they’ll take your bribes? And really, is this even a good idea? What happens if Alanth gets himself into trouble?” She took another sip of tea and began tearing apart a small sweet roll, feeding pieces to her imp. She kept her eyes cast downward, avoiding eye contact with everyone else at the table.

Hammaryn sighed and put a hand down on the table. “He’s not entirely incompetent, you know.”

“And as for whether or not this is a good idea, Miss Flamestriker…I do not see that we have much in the way of other choices.” Dandill shifted his weight as he leaned against the wall. “What exactly do you think will happen if we just leave him be? Do you believe this teacher of yours will suddenly get the message and stop what he’s doing?”

“You already told us he was crazy, to the point that you think he confuses you with someone else.” Dorri snagged a sweet roll off of Keltyr’s plate and nibbled on it, grinning as he poked her. “We’re not going to let him be. That’s settled. We’re here to finalize the plans and that’s it. Alanth already proved himself capable of staying out of trouble. And his idea isn’t a bad one. After all, your teacher has no reason to suspect that anyone is making a move against him. Once he is in bemoaning the destruction of his room, we move in.”

“What about afterwards? We can’t very well leave a body up there. Someone is bound to ask questions about that. There are plenty of ways to dispose of a body, but how do we remove it?” Kat pushed her plate away, most of the food untouched.

Dandill shrugged as he leaned across the warlock’s shoulder to retrieve a goblet of wine. “I could simply add him to my…collection…and walk the remains out. There wouldn’t be anything left for anyone to find, and he would wind up being useful to someone for a time.”

Dorri snickered. “Another hand puppet for Drusi?”

Kel smirked. “He was very mean to Kat, so now Drusi wears him as a hat.”

Kat shivered slightly. “I don’t think I’d like to see him walking in any form after this.”

The death knight snorted and took a sip of wine from his appropriated goblet. “Even I find a ghoul useful on occasion, Dorri. And it’s not like he’d be exactly recognizable once I added him to the collection anyway. It would simply make him easily transported – because nobody questions a death knight leading a ghoul around these days – and even more easily disposed of. There are myriad ways to get rid of what you’ve called up if you’re done with it.”

Kat bowed her head, running a hand through her hair. It was difficult to see her expression, but her voice was unsure. “If you think it’s the best option, Dandill. I trust you. The idea of him being anything other than completely dead just makes me nervous. And usually I define “completely dead” as “not walking around”. Of course, that could just be me.” The warlock gave a slight shrug.

“You intend to turn him into a ghoul? That’s disgusting.” Hammaryn frowned and folded her arms over her chest.

Dorri shrugged with one shoulder. “It’s a way to get rid of the body, Ryn. Besides, it’s no more disgusting than killing the guy. It’s just a corpse, what do we care what is done with it?”

Hammaryn scratched her head, running her hand back and forth through her hair. “Does it really have to be that way?”

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about killing him too, cause that’s getting annoying.” Dorri glared at Ryn

“Besides, this way nobody finds the body and tries to help him out. If nobody finds the body, we’re much better off.” There were a few mutters of agreement as Keltyr spoke.

“Can’t we just….chop him into little pieces and dump him into various lava-spouting volcanoes around the world?” Kat kept her eyes down.

Hammaryn looked up from the table, still scratching her head methodically. “Maybe we should just turn him in to the guard.”

Dorri snarled and slammed her hand on the table. “No! We can’t trust them to deal with the matter in a way that will keep Kat out of trouble. We have no idea what connections he has. This is the best way to make sure it is dealt with.”

Kat looked up, running a hand through her hair again. “I’d say he has at least a few connections, possibly more, possibly less. It’s so hard to tell what’s in his mind and what’s real. Either way, I find it unlikely it’d help.”

“Right, so now that is settled. Is there anything else? Cause I’m ready to see some blood.” Dorri’s voice was a snarl.

Kat sighed again, scratching behind her imp’s horns. “I suppose that’s all. I don’t seem to hear any other objections. I guess we’ll work it out when we get there.” She stood up, took a deep breath, and straightened her skirts. The smile she gave didn’t seem to reach her eyes as she looked around the room. “I don’t see any reason to waste more time discussing. We should get Alanth into place. Have we decided where we will wait, and what his signal will be? If so, lets go.”

Atalian was an accomplished Warlock. He was nearly famous, or so he thought. He wouldn’t have believed it if anyone told him they had not heard of him. But now they send him this wisp of a girl? She wasn’t worth his time, for he was a great Warlock! She was merely a Noble, and a woman at that. But he was a master, surely he could mold her into SOMETHING. He eyed her over. She seemed innocent enough, and he would take great pleasure in corrupting her. Oh yes, great pleasure indeed. The girl cast her eyes downward, scuffing her soft shoes on the tiles below her. She didn’t make eye contact with him. Perfect, just as a woman should act.

If he had hit her the first time around, she never would have come back. No, instead he started on her fifth time. She’d grown more confident in herself and her power over the Shadow and her demons. She was no longer the demure woman she had been when she first started. She had the nerve, the –nerve-, to look him in the eyes as if they were some sort of equal! He caught her off guard, as she was attempting to summon a Voidwalker. The blow landed hard across her face, knocking her to the ground as she cried out. She put a hand to her cheek as she stared up at her mentor in surprise. He sneered down at her, an aura of disgust emanating from him.

“Never forget your place, girl. You are nothing to me, and will never be anything more than a speck in my eye.” He laughed as she attempted to pick herself up and stumbled in the process. “Worthless. And everyone knows it. Now summon that Voidwalker.”

“….yes sir.”

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