Tomb Queens- Part 3

Night had fallen over the quiet cove that sheltered Booty Bay. Above the gently lapping waters the moon hung in the sky, it's silver light illuminating the shanty town that had been partially destroyed in the Shattering. Naturally, goblin industriousness had repaired much of the damage and the green-skinned creatures continued even amongst the ruins of businesses that had succumbed to the devastation.

Beckyann lay on a boulder just above the town, her form stretched out on the stone and the body of her gnome companion lying beside her. In the dim light of the moon her eyes glowed brightly as she looked down on the town below them. Spanner grunted beside her, his face pressed to a strange, multi-lensed device that he claimed would allow him to see clearly in the dark. To Beckyann it just looked like a collection of strange tubes that glowed a fel-green in the night.

“There, near the center of the town,” Spanner said quietly. Beckyann looked to where his stubby fingers were pointing, seeing a multi-floor structure rising up along the docks that lined the cove. Above the structure they could both clearly make out the sight of Bix's hot air balloon where it had been moored to the building's roof. Clearly this was her headquarters in the Bay, and it was within that structure that they would find their prize.

“But look,” Beckyann said in irritation, pointing to the docks in front of the building. “There are Booty Bay bruisers patrolling right outside. How much do you want to bet she's paid off the local enforcers to keep her property clear? I highly doubt they're going to take our side when its one of their own kind they're sheltering, no matter what cartel she's from. And I don't have the coin to counter-bribe them either.”

Spanner held up a hand to calm the dead woman, smiling at her, “I've got just the thing! I thought we might get into a sticky situation so I've planned ahead!”

With that, he took out two small discs. Made of metal and wires, they were about the size of a brooch that one might use to fasten a cloak or to decorate a dress. Spanner leaned over, affixing one to Beckyann's dress and then attaching another one to the lapel of his jacket. With a chuckle he depressed a button on the one he was wearing, and his form shimmered.

Where the gnome had been standing now stood a goblin, his clothing almost identical to what the gnome had been wearing. Beckyann blinked in surprise, reaching out to feel the goblin's long, tapered ears. To her surprise, her hand passed through, touching nothing. It was some sort of illusion.

“Fascinating. It'll do to get us inside,” she said softly.

Spanner grinned, his goblin disguise turning the expression into one that had quite a bit more teeth than he naturally would display. He leaned over and pressed the button on Beckyann's device. Instantly the human woman was replaced by a goblin female with shockingly bright blonde hair. Her stylish glasses that were in her hair appeared now to be mechanic's goggles, and the gnome gently pushed them down, disguising her eyes.

“There we are! You'll be some sort of goblin supermodel with hair like that,” the gnome chuckled. Beckyann noted that even his voice had been altered by the disguising field of the devices they wore.

“How long will...” she began, only to blink in surprise to hear her own voice modified to the typical high-pitched tone of a goblin. Spanner laughed again, getting to his feet.

“About an hour until the batteries die. We need to move,” he said. Beckyann nodded once and rose beside him, the two making their way towards the town below.

******************************

Getting in had been easy. The bruisers patrolling the docks hadn't given the two goblins much attention other than ogling the bright blonde goblin female. They managed to pass into the structure with no more than a few lewd comments whispered behind them. Beckyann kept a running tally of how many people she was going to have to kill when this venture was over in the back of her mind and continued to follow Spanner as he passed in through the door.

Once inside, they immediately came upon a large garage area with stairs leading upwards. Within the open space several goblins were working on trikes and mechanohogs, an ogre bodyguard lounging deeper within the building on a ratty looking couch. Ignoring the people below, the duo proceeded up the stairs, not alarming the goblins in the slightest with their disguises.

As they made their way to the upper floor, they found themselves in a long hallway. Another stairwell at the end of the hallway lead up to a roof access panel; presumably how one got to the hot air balloons moored above. Several doors opened on either side of the hallway, but it was immediately obvious where their objective was as they looked down the length of the corridor. Just before the stairwell to the roof, a table had been set up and a trio of goblins was engaged in a game of cards. Behind them was a door with a golden nameplate that was unreadable from where the two stood. It was obvious that Bix's private offices were behind the guards and glided sign however.

With a false smile on his face, Spanner took the lead and they walked down the hallway towards the goblins. The three looked up from their card game, looking annoyed to be interrupted. One of them eyed the two over, pulling a cigar out of his mouth long enough to lazily challenge them, “Got some business here or what?”

Spanner nodded at the goblin, his disguise fooling them. “Yeah. Gotta see the Boss. Got some more intel 'bout those gnomes we hit.”

Spanner turned, placing a hand on Beckyann's back and pushing her towards the three goblins, “Hey sweets, why don't you play some cards with these guys while I go talk to her eh? I'll be out in five minutes.”

Beckyann stumbled forward, stammering, “But I don't know how to...play cards.....”

Her voice trailed off as she saw the three goblin guards looking at her like they had just cracked open a bank vault. She rolled her eyes, sighing as one of them grabbed a chair and offered it to her. Clearly they were going to fleece her for everything she had, and she could almost hear her coin-purse crying out in agony. Spanner walked past the three, pushing his way into the inner offices.

The three had just settled down into their third hand (Beckyann having already lost the first two!) when shouts came from behind the door. Shots rang out and two large holes were punched in the wall near the card-players as the door flew open and Spanner ran out. His disguise had failed, and he grinned widely, the troll mask clasped in his hands. Behind him, the voice of Bix trailed out, her high-pitched goblin accent almost indecipherable as she put a few more rounds into the doorframe behind him.

“Time to go Miss Eastberg!” Spanner yelled as he ran past the table. One of the guards blinked in surprise and then grabbed a pistol, aiming it at Spanner. Before he could pull the trigger, Beckyann lashed out, her arm knocking the gun up and causing the weapon to put a neat hole in the ceiling as it discharged. Above them, they could hear the sound of an explosion as the shot punctured the hot air balloon moored on the roof, followed by things collapsing on the ceiling.

Several things happened at once, with disastrous consequences. Spanner ran down the hall, skidding as he approached the stairwell. At the same time, one of the three card-players got up, lunging at Beckyann. At the same moment, a second card-player player threw a chair at her, striking his lunging companion and causing both chair and goblin to fly right into the goblin with the pistol. The two landed in a pile of tangled limbs and goblin curses as Beckyann reared up, flipping the table over into the last standing goblin. The flat oaken surface slammed into his face, hurling him backwards just as Bix ran through the doorway of her offices, causing a second collision.

Beckyann wasted no time, sprinting after the goblin and idly noticing that her disguise had malfunctioned in the scuffle. Her longer gait allowed her to quickly catch up to Spanner as the two dashed madly down the stairs, the sounds of angry goblins pursuing them coming from behind.

They burst into the garage, only to find the goblin mechanics already alerted to their presence. What was worse was the ogre bodyguard who had risen from his nap on the couch, blocking their path. Beckyann placed a hand on Spanner's shoulder, halting him as she prowled out in front of him. She was in no mood to deal with further delays. In a huff, she stormed towards the ogre, pushing up the sleeves on her dress and winding her fist back to strike at the creature.

The ogre brought his hands up, shielding his face as Beckyann's fist lashed out with the unnatural strength of the undead. Unfortunately, she had been aiming much, much lower, and everyone in the room, even Spanner, winced and looked away as the pained ogre made a peculiar squeaking sound before falling over, grabbing himself and curling into a ball. Beckyann tilted her head, cracking her neck before looking over at the goblin mechanics. They all shifted away from her, one of them dropping a wrench he'd been holding with a metallic clink on the stone floor.

Spanner dashed past Beckyann, running up to one of the mechanohogs, “Over here Miss Eastberg! Let's go!”

Giving the mechanics one last dirty look, Beckyann dashed after her gnome companion, leaping onto the back of the bike as he quickly hot-wired it and got it going. In a dash they were off, the tin-door of the garage presenting almost no barrier as they burst through it and onto the streets of Booty Bay, scattering bruisers who had been guarding the building.

For a moment, it seemed as if the two were safe as they sped off across the docks. Unfortunately the moment passed and the roar of engines could be heard as three more of the bikes drove out of the garage, angry goblins atop them. Beckyann shouted, her voice lost in the wind and roar of their bike's passing. Spanner nodded at her though, and she knew he'd had a chance to at least glance back and see the threat.

With a roar, the goblins on the bikes chasing them opened fire, a hail of poorly aimed bullets hurtling past them as they wove in between stacks of crates on the docks. Beckyann looked back, taking one hand from Spanner's waist and pointing. On her wrist a charm bracelet dangled, looking like interwoven chains with a skull clasp. The skull on the bracelet glowed, the eyes illuminating as a frost rune appeared on it and the entire bracelet became freezing cold. In the distance behind the two, Chains of Ice wrapped around the front wheel of one of the bikes, instantly rooting it to the ground. The rear of the bike continued on, and the entire vehicle flipped over, spilling goblins all over the dock. The other two bikes roared past the wreck, still firing at the two fleeing thieves.

Beckyann grunted as something hard struck her in the back, a bullet penetrating her shoulder. She slumped against Spanner for a moment from the impact before righting herself. The projectile had passed through her, and such a weapon would do little damage to her undead flesh and useless organs, but it was a concern that they would eventually hit Spanner while he was driving.

As if to echo her thoughts, a round struck their bike's fuel line. Burning liquid spilled out behind them, setting the docks on fire. Beckyann shouted, pounding Spanner on the shoulder as their bike began to cough and sputter from the loss of fuel. Spanner jammed the throttle up and the bike surged forward again, burning up their precious remaining fuel and leaving a blazing trail in their wake. They were rapidly approaching the end of the dock.

Behind them, Beckyann heard the roar of another projectile and ducked as a rocket spiraled past them. The poorly aimed and designed weapon left a swirl of smoke behind it as it struck a pile of crates on the end of the pier, blowing splintered wood in all directions. Unable to stop, Spanner drove the bike into the swirling smoke, the spilling fuel from their bike adding to the destruction.

At the very end of the pier several planks of wood had fallen over some crates, with with a wild shout Spanner yanked back on the bike, popping the front wheel up. The bike hit the plank and rode it like a ramp, their momentum hurling them high into the air over the bay and leaving a trail of flames behind them as the dock began to burn in earnest and goblins ran too and fro trying to douse the flames. Their pursuers were forced to skid to a stop as they came upon the wall of flame that separated them, and Beckyann would have shouted in triumph if not for the fact that they were on a downward arc towards the shark infested waters surrounding Booty Bay.

Beckyann grabbed Spanners waist and pointed past him, shouting in the Language of Death. Just before they hit the water, a surge of freezing cold necromantic magic flew across the surface of the water, turning it to ice. The bike struck the ice, something within it making a 'crumping' noise as it shattered and gnome, dead woman, and bike skidded across the frozen surface of the water.

When their momentum had finally ended and the wild sliding stopped, Beckyann sat up on the ice, looking back to see that they were several hundred yards away from the burning pier. A few feet away from her, Spanner groaned and sat up, offering her a grin that was minus several teeth. With an almost delighted laugh, he held up the troll mask that they'd been after.

His smile was infectious, and despite having just been shot, nearly set alight, and eaten by sharks, Beckyann found herself giggling. The two rose, walking carefully on the ice towards the far shore and away from the raging inferno that Bix's goons had started. With luck, it would delay their competition long enough for them to steal the prize.

The tomb and its treasures would be theirs. They only had to carve their way through several miles of jungle to get to it!

Tomb Queens- Part 2

The day was already getting hot and the air thick in the valley north of Stranglethorn Vale. Although the valley was not the jungle proper, there were still vines and tall trees that crept along the perilous cliffs that bordered either side of the road. In the center of the valley, several trails met up and left a small space of open dirt. This space was presently occupied by a number of wagons and other strange conveyances, all connected to mechanostriders that the gnomes favored.

As a number of gnomes talked amongst themselves in small groups, a shadow flickered across the gathered wagons. Something partly eclipsed the sun again, and the gnomes looked up to see a dot circling above them in the sky, slowly growing larger as it descended. Within moments a skeletal gryphon could be made out, and the creature circled a few times before coming to rest in the center of the cleared area. Atop the gryphon sat a blonde woman wearing a deep black dress with silver threading on it, the sleeves of the garment coming to rest around her arms as the wind of her flight died down. She offered the gnomes a smile beneath her oddly glowing blue eyes as she hopped lightly from her saddle.

As she touched the ground, the skeletal gryphon hissed at her, a wing coming up to strike her with a hardened ridge of bone. She spun around with an unnatural movement, her fist clenched and her eyes blazing. The creature settled back on its haunches, its dead eyes staring her down as she muttered barely heard threats, moving quickly to remove a small bag and a large, stylish hat with a black feather on it. With a shake of her fist she dismissed her unruly, undead mount and turned, placing the hat on her head and walking towards the gnomes, her black boots crunching in the soil of the valley.

“Spanner!” Beckyann said with a smile. “I see you've got everything in order! Are you ready to begin then?”

The gnome she'd addressed was standing amongst the others, and walked towards her with a smile of his own. Short even for his own kind, his battered leather coat and fedora had a number of small gadgets and whirling thingamabobs attached to it. He paused before Beckyann, offering her a bow as one would in the presence of nobility, playing the social game that he knew she adored. “Aye m'lady. I've arranged for transport for you as well. This will be a profitable expedition.”

Beckyann's smile widened as the gnome offered her his arm, allowing the smaller creature to guide her her to a green painted carriage that sat in the midst of the convoy. Like the wagons, the carriage had mechanostriders attached to it, a gnome driver up on the driver's seat tipping his hat cheerfully at Beckyann as Spanner opened the door for her, “After you Miss Eastberg!”

Giggling, Beckyann stepped up into the luxurious carriage, smiling as the gnome climbed in beside her and closed the door. With a pat on the outside of the carriage door, he signaled for the driver to begin. Up above, the driver nodded to the drivers of the wagons and the entire convoy began to move with the sound of grinding gears and belching smoke as gnomish contraptions were bound to do.

They were off!

***********************************

Beckyann's laughter filled the inside of the carriage as Spanner delivered the punchline to his joke. As she laughed, the gnome studied the dead woman sitting across from her, noting the almost natural way that she found amusement in simple conversation, as if acting out the habits she'd had while alive somehow gave her more life. It was an odd experience to have a business associate like her, but to the gnome it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. He smiled back warmly at the woman, looking down at the map that he'd unfolded during the journey. Studying it, he glanced out the window and then back down at the map, pointing to a spot on it.

“Looks like we're about halfway to the site now Miss Eastberg,” he said. Across from him, Beckyann nodded, her baleful eyes studying the markings on the map from her seat. Behind the carriage, the rest of the convoy was strung out along the narrow path that clung to the crest of one of the hills that sprung from the jungles of Stranglethorn, their mechanostriders leaving a trail of smoke behind them as the convoy moved along. They were making good time, and would reach the ruins they wished to explore with ample time to set up camp for the evening.

Beckyann leaned forward, her black lips parting to ask the gnome a question when a loud droning noise cut her off. Frowning, she tilted her head and stuck it out the window, the wind of the carriage's passing blowing errant strands of her blonde hair around her face. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of a large hot air balloon cresting the other side of the hill, its rear propeller allowing it to follow the trail through a hole in the jungle's canopy. Behind the balloon two others floated up, cages beneath them seeming to hold motorized trikes of some sort and skids to allow the cages to land. Beckyann turned to look back into the carriage at Spanner, her voice shouting out over the noise of the droning engines on the balloons and the wind of the carriage's movement.

“Friends of yours Spanner?” she asked somewhat sarcastically. She could already tell by the look on his face that they were NOT friends of his and that he hadn't expected this little change of plans.

The gnome shook his head slowly, yelling back, “It's Bix! She's the goblin I asked about the translations. I'd recognize her balloon anywhere! Not good!”

The words were an understatement of course. As Beckyann watched, a female goblin jumped up on to the railing of one of the balloons, a strange cylinder in her hands and a grin on her face. Beckyann knew enough about goblins to know that when they were grinning it was probably about to become somewhat explosive in the near future. The goblin gave Beckyann a mock wave before bringing the cylinder up and sighting down the length of it towards the wagon just behind her carriage. With the press of a button on the side, a missile shot out. The projectile trailed an inky black trail of smoke behind it as it twisted through the air, giving the driver of the wagon just enough time to leap clear before it struck the wooden conveyance and blew it to splinters.

Things happened rather quickly after that. The force of the blast threw Beckyann back into the carriage where she collided with Spanner. At the same time, the air blast swept their driver from his seat, sending their carriage on a suddenly directionless and careening path down the trail, picking up speed as it went. Behind them, the suddenly receding convoy was besieged as the two balloons following the goblin's disgorged their trikes, more goblins immediately assaulting the gnomes on the trailing wagons and capturing the lightly armed drivers.

Within the wagon, Spanner flailed wildly as the carriage struck rocks and bounced hard on the trail. He couldn't see with Beckyann's skirts and petticoats covering his head and the dead woman was not helping much as she was tossed around the inside of the carriage like a ragdoll. From beneath her, he shouted, his voice cut off as one of her boots stepped on his thigh and turning into a howl.

“Spanner!” Beckyann shouted, narrowly missing hitting her head on the edge of the carriage. “We have to get control of this thing before it-”

Of course, it was far too late. With a loud snapping noise the front axle of the carriage cracked on a particularly rough jolt as the wheels hit a hole in the trail. The carriage jumped upwards and off the narrow confines of the dirt road, splintered wood falling around it as it plunged into the depths of the jungle. Within the carriage Beckyann and Spanner found themselves tossed about roughly as the quickly fragmenting wooden walls began to buckle from repeated collisions with vegetation.

With an ear splitting crack the carriage slammed into a wide tree, cracking into a thousand tumbling pieces and sending the gnome and dead woman plunging into thin air, the canyon hundreds of feet below them. In mid-flight, Beckyann ignored the screams of her gnomish companion as she scanned the area around her. Thinking quickly, she reached out, a tendril of necromantic magic death gripping a nearby vine and sending it towards her. She grabbed Spanner's hand, successfully catching him in her inhumanly strong grip as her other hand snatched the vine.

With a wild scream from the gnome, the two swung out over the jungle, the ruins of their carriage just missing them as it plunged down into the jungle far below with the echoes of breaking wood. Beckyann swung her arm lightly, allowing Spanner to grab the vine and hold on as they swung back and forth for a moment, taking stock of their situation and presumably on the gnome's part, allowing his racing pulse to calm down.

“You know the second wagon had the troll mask right?” Spanner said lightly after he'd calmed down.

Beckyann looked down at him, frowning and biting her lip in irritation. Of COURSE the goblins had captured the mask. The mask they needed in order to enter the ruins. In an almost sarcastic tone she replied, “I think we have other concerns right now Spanner. Besides, she didn't actually get to copy the inscription did she? It'll take her a little while to figure out where the ruins are. We'll have time to find her.”

As if to confirm Beckyann's statement, the droning hum of a balloon in flight filled the air and the two saw Bix's hot air balloon rise above the canopy of the jungle. From the glimpses they got of it, it was headed in the general direction of Booty Bay.

Beckyann looked down at the gnome and offered him a tight lipped smile, “Told you so.”

Spanner just looked at her and said, “Snakes.”

Beckyann frowned, looking up at the vine just in time to see a snake rearing its head up to strike at her. Although such a creature would never have harmed her, the instincts of life were hard to let go of and she reared back, releasing the vine with a squeal. The squeal turned into a long, drawn out wail as she plummeted into the jungle far below, her dress fluttering around her as if she were some discarded black flower.

Spanner sighed, watching as his companion landed squarely in a river far below. He smirked a bit, knowing that she would hate what it would do to her hair. Such a fall would hardly be deadly for one such as her, and as if to confirm his suspicions he immediately saw flares of necromantic energy beneath the churning water as she lashed out at something far below.

With a smile, the gnome released his own hold on the vine, pushing a button on his vest and deploying a small parachute as he fell down towards the jungle below. As he fell, he mused aloud to himself, “Snakes AND crocs. And who said archaeology was boring?”

****************

As the gnome landed and folded his parachute up by the river's edge, a ragged looking Beckyann dragged herself from the water, cursing loudly and wringing water from the sleeves of her dress. Her hair was a mess, and in the river behind her several dead crocolisks floated belly up. The gnome offered Beckyann a smile and even took off his coat, offering it to her as one might a living woman. The gesture, while pointless, had the effect he'd intended of cheering her morale a bit. She did so love to be treated like she was really alive.

“It seems our little expedition is over before it's begun Miss Eastberg,” he said sadly as she declined his offer with a smile and a shake of her head.

Beckyann grinned at him, muttering a spell under her breath. A freezing cold gale blew around her, the water on her body turning to ice almost instantly. With a smile she slowly cracked it by moving her limbs beneath it, removing much of the water from her person. She muttered again, and over the natural sounds of the jungle a dire screech could be heard as her undead gryphon answered the call of its mistress.

Beckyann looked at Spanner, her baleful eyes alight with future revenge. As a spec appeared in the sky above them, she straightened her dress as best she could and shook her head.

“The expedition is over when I am in that tomb, lost in its wonders my friend,” she said, her voice chilling. “Your friend will learn soon enough what it means to stand in my way.”

Spanner barked out a laugh and shook his head, “She's no friend of mine. Friends don't blow up your best 'striders and leave you stranded in the jungle. As I said, can't trust a goblin for anything.”

The screeching above them grew louder as Beckyann's undead gryphon plunged through the canopy, and the dead woman looked at her friend and smiled, “Then let's go get our mask back, and steal back our prize.”

Tomb Queens- Part 1

"Miss Eastberg! Miss Eastberg!" the voice cried out. It carried through the crowd of people, the high-pitched tone clearly indicating that it was not only a child, but a gnome child at that.

Standing near a booth selling magical components, a blonde-haired woman turned, her face seeking the source of the voice. From a distance, she looked like any other woman in the crowd, her skin a golden tan and her body clothed in a flowing maroon dress. Upon closer inspection however, it was clear that there was something off about her. Perhaps it was the way she stood, seemingly at unnaturally stiff angles, or perhaps it was the purple tint that the veins beneath her skin had, but it was obvious to the casual observer that the woman was not quite as normal as she appeared. Only the thick, tinted glasses that covered her eyes managed to hide the fact that she was, in reality, a creature known as a death knight.

As Beckyann Eastberg turned, a young gnome child ran up to her, a piece of paper waving in his hand. He skidded to a stop before her, panting and trying to catch his breath as he thrust the letter up at her.

"Miss... Eastberg," he gasped. "I've a letter for you from my father!"

Beckyann looked down at the gnome child, her black-tinted lips curling into a smile as she reached out and gently took the letter from him. She recognized the young gnome at once; he was the son of a gnome named Spanner Copperzap; a person that Beckyann often worked with to advance her studies in archaeology and ancient cultures. Together she and the gnome had funded several expeditions in various areas around Uldum to investigate some of the ancient tombs there. Their relationship was mutually beneficial, allowing the gnome to pursue his love of archaeology and Beckyann to get her hands on the beautiful treasures and lost art that such tombs contained.

She studied the letter for a moment, noting that it was indeed sealed with Spanner's normal wax seal. Curiously, she ran a manicured finger across the wax, breaking the seal and opening the letter up to read it. Gnomish script covered the page, neat and exactly to the point as Spanner always was.

Dear Miss Eastberg,

I hope this letter finds you well. I would like to first extend my thanks for the wonderful troll death mask that you sent to me. I know it was likely difficult for you to obtain it since the site where you said it was uncovered had been submerged. Surely your unique constitution was helpful in retrieving it! The piece fits well with my collection of these masks, and I am very grateful.

The piece itself was unique in some ways when compared to the other masks we've examined. Upon close scrutiny of the mask, I discovered a line of glyphs inscribed on its inner surface. Further analysis of the surface of the piece has convinced me that this mask was never worn by a dead person! You can imagine my excitement when I realized that this death mask was likely used in rituals for the dead rather than as a ceremonial burial item! I am sure this has already piqued your interest given your fascination with burial customs!

I digress though! I took the piece to an associate of mine that I normally use for such research since I cannot speak even a small amount of trollish. The glyphs, when roughly translated, tell the tale of a witch doctor or 'Hexmistress' who was rumored to have great power amongst this particular troll tribe. The glyphs actually spell out a legend about this Hexmistress, telling a tale of her rise to power and her discovery of a method to 'harness the night' for unrivaled and inexhaustible energy! An amazing tale right? 

It gets better Miss Eastberg! The glyphs tell of the fall of this Hexmistress, and how she was overwhelmed by her own tribe, lured to a false throne where she was trapped for all eternity. The tribe itself died off to some curse, with this mask being the last relic of the group. The best part though is that the glyphs give enough of a description of the structure that the Hexmistress was imprisoned in for me to make an educated guess as to its whereabouts! It's in Stranglethorn Vale! We can GO there Miss Eastberg!

I am sure you are as excited by this development as I am. If you are interested in another expedition, I would be happy to continue our previous arrangement. I will supply the equipment and ten percent of the costs and you supply the other ninety percent plus any incidental damages. I'm sure from the sale of the previous treasure troves we discovered you will be able to draw enough funds if you have sufficient interest. 

Please respond as soon as possible if you would like to do this, as the business associate that I contacted to help with the translations is overly interested in what she translated, and you can never trust a goblin! I don't want her getting the jump on us!

Awaiting your reply patiently,
Spanner Copperzap

Beckyann folded the letter up, a smile on her face as she thought about what the gnome had written. A hidden tomb! One with a potentially powerful source of magic in it, and certainly rare and valuable treasures that she could pick through! Such chances did not come along all that often, and Beckyann was practically gleeful at the idea. Treasures left in tombs were for the dead, to comfort them in their afterlife and as far as Beckyann was concerned, since she WAS dead, all such items were gifts for her if she could simply find them.

Beckyann looked down at the gnome child who was practically bouncing from one foot to the other and gave him a charming smile, or as charming a smile as was possible when one was dead and one's mouth was filled with dripping black ichor. She patted him on the head with one of her cold hands and nodded, "Tell your father that I accept his offer. I will meet him in four days in the valley just north of Stranglethorn Vale. Our previous arrangement will work nicely and I believe this will be quite profitable, and a good learning experience, for both of us."

The gnome child nodded once, offering the dead woman a bow before scurrying back off through the crowd. Beckyann watched him go, her baleful blue eyes tracking him from beneath her stylish glasses. When he was lost to sight, she turned, thoughtfully looking over the items that the merchant was selling. If she was going on another expedition, she'd need to make sure she was well stocked with magical components.

She'd let the gnomes do the bulk of the work in hauling the equipment, providing security, and doing the actual digging, but they weren't so skilled at undoing magical traps that such tombs often contained. With her knowledge about the burial rituals that many races practiced, she would lend what aid she could to see that the venture was successful.

Although Beckyann was dead and rarely felt much of anything, the thought of the journey, of the learning and sheer novelty of acting the part of the wealthy patron of such an expedition sent a thrill through her. There was little she could enjoy in her existence now except knowledge and the pursuit of wealth that she never had as a poor peasant living in Corin's Crossing. It would be a grand adventure, and the rewards at the end of the trip might be more than she could even imagine.

Still smiling, Beckyann Eastberg went back to her shopping, the energy and bounce in her step a pale mockery of true life to any that observed her.

Paths We Tread

*Several years ago during the Northrend campaign; Icecrown*

Hooves bit into the thick crust of snow, driving down deep and leaving a furrow in the frozen landscape. Each foot forward plowed up more snow, the pace of the deathcharger fast enough to risk broken limbs but not fast enough for Beckyann. Mercilessly she dug her spurs into the beast's flanks, hoping to coax even a little more speed out of it.

The undead steed had been wounded in several places and an arrow protruded from its right hindquarters. The damage alone would not be enough to stop such a creature, and they did not feel pain except as an irritant, but each wound slowed it down, each severed muscle made it that much more difficult for the necromancy that sustained it to keep it going, and right now Beckyann could not afford to have it slow down.

Behind her they came. Like a dark cloud floating on the surface of the snow they ran after her, tireless and hungry. The restless dead would stop at nothing once they had a foe in sight, well did Beckyann know this. There was no hope for it now but to run. The company she had been attached to had been decimated and all of the men and women with her had been slaughtered to a man. Some of them even now likely ran alongside the Scourge that pursued her; newly risen in the service of the Lich King. She had seen Cult of the Damned necromancers amongst those who assaulted them so it was not outside of the realm of possibility. Even as she glanced back, she could see dark figures on horses amongst the dead that chased her; they were not about to let her get away and warn the other nearby crusade companies of the disaster.

Suddenly a spell flashed by Beckyann, slamming into the snowbanks nearby and sending up a plume of white powder. She jerked the reins in her hands, steering the deathcharger around the sudden blast and pressing on. The spellcasters had gotten into range, and it was only a matter of time now before the end was upon her. No sooner had that thought passed through her mind then a second spell struck out, this time aimed much more carefully. It struck the back of her deathcharger, severing vital tissue and necromantic connections and hurling her and the beast forward as it stumbled, dying.

Beckyann flew through the air, a white wall of snow rushing up to meet her as she tumbled head first into a bone-jarring collision with a snowbank. Her undead steed, in its last throes of existence, thrashed behind her, stumbling and collapsing on top of her, the impact snapping several of her ribs and pinning the lower half of her body beneath it.

For a moment, she lay there, the impact stunning her. She felt pain only dimly, so the damage to her body was not a concern, but she knew now that she would never escape the dead that pursued her. She would lay beneath her dead steed and be torn to shreds. Bitterly her mind drifted, a confused haze of memories flashing before her eyes as she thought about the events that had lead to this moment...

*****************************************************

She had been eighteen at the time. A slip of a girl, green-eyed and eager to prove herself. It had taken her almost a year after her parents died to save up the coin she needed to make the trip. A year of hard work, fleeting hope, and the desperate need to rise above the poverty she had been born to. After all of her struggle, all of her time and effort, she had finally made it to Dalaran, to the city of Mages and Magic. To a place where her destiny lay.

"You have five minutes," the man said, his tone stern. He was middle-aged, although his hair and long beard were already touched with a hint of gray.  He sat in a high-backed chair behind a rather imposing hardwood desk, staring at Beckyann through his thick-rimmed glasses, his hands folded before him.

The room they were in was a small study which connected to a larger magical research laboratory. Although there were many powerful artifacts in the room, Beckyann could tell that the lab beyond was the real wonder of the structure. It was there that new magic was discovered and old spells were improved, where a person could learn and grow in the Arts. It was there that she most wished to be, working and studying and making something of herself.

She had five minutes to make that happen.

With a nervous intake of breath, Beckyann rose and stood before the Archmage's desk. Dressed in a simple powder-blue dress that had seen better days and shoes that had soles worn so badly they wouldn't be useable in another few weeks, Beckyann looked nothing like the typical students that applied for studies in Dalaran. Many of the others came from well-to-do families that wished to have the honor of having a child become a member of the Kirin Tor. Others were the sons and daughters of merchants that could afford the entry fees into the grand city and ensure their children had a place amongst the other students.

Beckyann had no such advantages; she had to rise and fall on her own merits. She'd had only just enough coin to make the trip to Dalaran, and not nearly enough to afford to actually apply as an apprentice. She'd had to wait for the right moment to catch one of the Archmages as they walked the streets of the city on errands, and then catch that person's eye. She'd finally done it after weeks of living on the edge of starvation, and now she had five minutes to prove that she should be taken on as an apprentice.

Beckyann exhaled, becoming utterly still and calm, a look of sheer determination on her face. Energy flowed through her and around her as she began to chant, carefully intoning the words of the rudimentary spells she'd learned on her own. In the air above her, a form shimmered and materialized as her familiar, a white songbird, popped into existence and flew around her before landing on her shoulder and singing merrily. Its presence further calmed her, and Beckyann fell into a meditative state as she continued to chant.

The magical energy in the room grew, swirling over the desk in front of the Archmage. The man sat back, saying nothing as he watched the little urchin girl cast her spell. The top of the table shimmered and his view of it wavered as a huge assortment of food appeared where before had been empty space. The food looked and smelled delicious, and he reached forward, snatching up an apple and biting into it. In front of him, Beckyann lowered her arms, ending her chant as her spell was completed and the food had been completely conjured.

"Interesting," the Archmage said, looking her over critically. "Your technique, although crude, was adequate to complete the spell. However, we have more than enough food in this city. You should have come with the standard spells that all first year apprentices learn in their home studies. Before you go though, have a bite to eat since you went through the trouble."

He tossed the apple to Beckyann and the fruit collided with a magical barrier. The young woman's eyes glowed with arcane energy as the fruit hung in place between them, unable to pass through her shield to reach her, and held aloft by her magic.

The Archmage sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled before him as he studied Beckyann anew. His eyebrows arched slightly as he watched the fruit hanging there. "Fascinating. Some of my fifth year apprentices cannot conjure a mana shield of that power, and certainly none of them can manipulate the weight of an object to slow its fall. You have impressed me....Apprentice."

Triumph surged through Beckyann, a grin creeping across her young face as her hopes and dreams bloomed before her. She'd done it! She'd become an Apprentice of an Archmage of the Kirin Tor! She was going to be trained in real magic, and have the opportunity to live the life her parents would have wanted her to have! It was the proudest moment of her life. The crowning glory of who and what she aspired to be. She had achieved everything she could have wanted.

The memories shifted, leaving that happy moment to follow it to its inevitable conclusion. Not triumph, not power and wealth, but passion and obsession mixed together in a disastrous combination that would lay her low and lead her to the doom that was her fate. 

She remembered a room in a small village deep in Lordaeron. A room filled with the sick and dying, with victims of the Plague of Undeath. People whom she was desperate to help. People who had no hope, although they did not yet know this. Beds lined the room, and a slightly older Beckyann sat behind a desk, her face in her hands and scattered papers covering the wooden surface before her.

"We have to go now Becky," Frederick said, his voice filled with concern. He walked up behind the mage, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's too late now, and the dead are gathering in the forest around this village."

Beckyann shook off the hand on her shoulder, looking up at him through tear-stained, bloodshot eyes. She shook her head, gesturing at the people laying on the beds in the room with her, "I can't just leave them. I have to HELP them! I can figure this out, I know I can! I just need more time. I'm so close to discovering the source of the plague. It's a type of magic mixed with science to spread to its victims. I'm sure I can discover the source but you need to give me more time!"

Frederick shook his head, anger beginning to creep into his voice, "Becky....we don't have anymore time. I know that you think you can save these people, but in about two hours they are going to perish and rise as more dead. The best thing to do is to torch this building and let them have peace. I'll lose men holding this little spit of a village if we stay here any longer."

Beckyann rose in anger, turning away from the man who was her lover. She looked out over the beds of the plague victims in the small village and more tears streamed down her face. Her voice came out in a low murmur as she spoke, "It's my fault Frederick. Some of these people were well before I came here. I told them they could care for their sick children. I even allowed some of the older kids to help. And now they're all infected. Because of me. Because I thought my first magical vaccine would keep them safe. Because my research was faulty."

She heard the man moving up behind her, and again he placed his hands on her shoulder, speaking softly into her ear, "I know Becky. I know that's what you think. But it's not true. Whether we'd come here or not, these people would be sick. You can't help them now and we need to keep you and the men safe. You've got precious knowledge about the plague in your research journal. We need to get that back to the capital and get others to study it."

Beckyann didn't respond at first, staring at the sick as they coughed up blood and gasped for air, their dying sounds damning in her ears. She shook her head, her blonde hair bouncing as she spoke in a choked whisper, "The vaccine Fred...It had plague in it."

He blinked at first, not understanding what she said. After a moment, it dawned on him and he roughly grabbed her, spinning her around to stare hard at her, "What? What do you mean it had plague in it?!"

She stared at him with tears in her eyes, the look on her face a look of utter defeat, of complete surrender. Her mouth spoke the hateful words of truth, her voice still low, "I weakened it. I thought...I thought it would allow them to gain some protection. But it didn't. Because the plague is magical as well as physical. You can't weaken it enough. Ever. I did this Fred...I infected these people. All of them in this room. The men. The women. The children. Because I thought I knew better. Because I thought I could help."

Roughly, Frederick pushed Beckyann away from him, watching tears spill from her green eyes. He shook his head in disgust. "We're leaving. Now. Get your research and  let's go."

She gasped, a hand reaching out to hold him back as he made to turn and walk away, "Fred...we need to press on. To the outskirts of Stratholme. Please. I'm so close to finding a cure. So very close. And then no more have to die. I can undo what I've done here. I can erase the mistakes by saving thousands. The people here, they'll have died for a cure, not for nothing. And we can put them all, ALL of them, to rest."

The man paused, staring hard at the woman that he loved, seeing in her perhaps for the first time the desperate need to rise that had driven her relentlessly to this moment. But he saw beyond that too. In the depths of her despair, he saw the soul of the woman behind the ambition. He saw a person in agony over her choices, desperate not to gain fame or power, but to undo a grievous mistake. Slowly he nodded, the breath escaping him in a long sigh.

"Fine, but the minute things turn sour we're pulling out. We've lost enough men already and the Woodbury family did not authorize me to expend all of our people on your insane quest to find a cure. They can always flee to the Kingdom of Stormwind if need be," he said heavily. He paused, staring at her before his expression softened somewhat. "We'll find a way Becky...we'll find a way."

Crying now, Beckyann nodded, leaning forward to wrap her arms around her beloved. After a moment she let go, walking to her desk and picking up her research journal before turning and walking from the room, leaving her patients, her experiments, to die the painful death that fate had set for them.

In the depths of her despair, Beckyann and her men set out towards the city of Stratholme, where the infection had first begun.

Where she would meet the painful death that fate had set for HER in a place that would come to be known as the Plaguewood.

********************************************

Beckyann jerked back into consciousness, the images of her life that had been flashing through her mind fading away. For a brief moment, she had allowed herself to relive those experiences, to feel again what life had been like while she was alive. To know what had driven her, and what had ultimately destroyed her and lead her down the path to becoming a death knight and the foul creature that she now was.

There was one interwoven theme in all of it, one point of fact that could never be disputed. It was that Beckyann did not surrender. The will that burned within her, the soul that made up her being, had never given up. She had always reached for her goals, had always excelled at everything, even when it cost the lives of others. Even when it cost her own life. She had tried to see everything through to the end. She was relentless. Her will was all that she had now, all that had not been stripped from her.

In that moment, trapped beneath her dead steed on the frozen, snowy plains of Icecrown, Beckyann came to realize what it meant to exist. Came to know what she truly was. In that moment, she swore that she would see that existence through to its end. She would let nothing end it if it was in her power to prevent it. No matter the cost to herself. No matter the cost to the world.

With a surge of necromantic energy Beckyann's eyes glowed foul blue and she heaved with all her might, sliding the dead steed off of her body. Slowly she rose, her gaze a baleful blaze of scourgelight, her runeblade trailing in the snow beside her as she made it to her feet and turned.

In the distance, the dead ran towards her, the necromancers amongst them holding back as they waited for their minions to tear this last shred of defiance to pieces so that they could go back to raising the fallen for the Lich King. The dead came on, unable to resist their commands, knowing only the urge to slay in the name of their foul King.

Beckyann stood upright, her runeblade rising beside her as necromancy far more powerful than the distant cultists could imagine flowed through her limbs. She set her feet, both hands gripping the blade as her enemies rushed at her. As they rushed to their fate.

As the first came at her, Beckyann whispered to the wind, "My will be done."

****************************************

In the frozen north, heroes were forged in blood and death as the mortal races of the world sought to thrown down the king of the dead that had threatened all existence. Armies rose and fell, men committed great deeds and foul treacheries, and in the end a King fell and the world rejoiced. Amongst all of these tales, many were lost to time or had no one to witness them. Many heroes fought and died alone in the frozen snow, never to be remembered. Many deeds were done that would have made an incredible tale if told around the fire, if only there were lips to speak them.

No one told the tale of the dead blonde woman who walked from the blizzards that forever harassed Icecrown and rejoined an encampment of Knights of the Ebon Blade. No one asked her where she'd been, or why her armor was rent in a dozen places. No one questioned the gore that spattered her, or the chips taken from the edge of her runeblade. In the end, it did not matter, because one more sword, one more body was always an advantage over the endless tides of the dead.

It was not the tale that mattered, not the deeds that were done, but the hero that was forged from them. The blonde haired woman that fate had decided would rise and fall, only to rise again in a new existence, her purpose forever unquestioned in her own mind.

Pirates!

Beckyann smiled and nodded her thanks as the gnome opened the portal for her. She checked her armor one last time before stepping towards the glimmering opening. She'd heard that there were Horde marauders roaming near Ironforge and, with no duties to attend to at the moment, it gave her the perfect opportunity to use her runeblade on something. Unlike the other Knights, she had very little control over her urges and usually needed to inflict agony on things every few days, perhaps a week at maximum before she started to feel physically ill. Horde gave her the perfect opportunity to do so without creating an embarrassing incident that the others would need to cover for; a win-win for everyone!

She stepped forward, passing into the magical portal and feeling the magic flowing around her, coating her skin as if she had dunked herself in water. At the last moment, right before she was about to teleport to her destination, the sound of a goblin's voice echoed faintly in her ears.

“Now you're going to get it Coppergear! Have fun on your little trip!”

Beckyann's last thought was wry amusement at the fact that she was about to experience some sort of revenge that was aimed at the gnome who was providing her with free transportation. It seemed that nothing in life was truly free. With that her mind blanked out and magic exploded around her as the goblin's trap was sprung and the portal was torn from its original destination. In the blink of an eye, Beckyann was gone.

She reappeared a moment later, a cloud of acrid smoke lingering in the air around her as she rematerialized; the leftover remains of the offensive spell that had altered her teleport it seemed. Although she had no need to breathe and wasn't coughing, Beckyann waved her hand to clear the lingering haze so that she could see clearly. As it dissipated, she saw something like thirty people staring at her stupidly. Her eyes widened, meeting their dumbfounded expressions with a idiotic half-shrug as if to say, “Fel if I know...”

They were pirates of course. And she was on a pirate ship of course. It had to be pirates in the middle of the ocean. She couldn't have gone somewhere pleasant like a vacation resort or perhaps the top of a scenic mountain. Nope, it was about twenty five pirates in various states of piratey dress with dirty, ill-maintained rifles and sabers on them and about five prisoners tied up as well. Two of the prisoners looked to be Alliance military personnel and the other three were women who must have been taken in a recent raid as their clothing was only HALF torn off.

All of this sensory input came to Beckyann in less than a second. Beyond her understanding of the people around her, she also saw a pillar of smoke off the bow of the ship and the mast of another vessel slowly slipping beneath the waves, wreckage floating around it. Clearly the pirates had just taken an Alliance vessel.

And then the time for thinking was over.

In the blink of an eye, one of the pirates brought up his poorly maintained rifle and fired round shot directly at Beckyann. The high-speed projectile hit her breastplate and went through it like it was paper, the round ball coming out her back in a deformed state and ruining her armor. The deck behind her was spattered with black gore. Unfortunately for the pirates, Beckyann was not alive and the shot simply passed through a lung.

It also made her angry.

Faster than a living woman would move, her hand came up and pulled her runeblade. She dove forward even as more pirates brought their weapons up. Shots rang out from several points but missed as the dead woman moved, the projectiles striking the deck and one even hitting another of the pirates who had been unfortunate enough to be in the crossfire.

Beckyann reached the first of the pirates and her blade arced out, sheering neatly through his throat in a shower of gore. The man tumbled backwards, his lifeblood pumping out and pouring onto the deck as Beckyann ducked the cut of another of the pirates and slashed clean through one of his thighs. The second pirate tumbled to the deck and Beckyann rolled as more shots rang out. This time one sparked off of the armor covering her thigh but failed to penetrate, and another put a hole in the deck beside her.

With a roar, Beckyann rolled to her feet, pointing at one of the prisoners. A tendril of dark magic arced out and picked him up, hurling him towards the death knight. She caught him, spinning the man and slamming him into one of the pirates as her runeblade lashed out and slashed the bindings that had tied his hands. The man, one of the Alliance soldiers, landed on top of a pirate in a heap of struggling limbs, tripping another of the combatants. Beckyann strode forward, mercilessly executing the fallen pirate and then bringing her blade up to deflect a saber that cut at her head.

“You're all dead do you hear me?” she growled. “DEAD! I'LL SEE ALL OF YOUR BLOOD SPILLED!”

Beckyann really didn't care for pirates. Stealing was wrong after all.

Two more pirates brought their weapons up and aimed at the blonde woman as she turned. One of the weapons misfired, the explosion of the poorly made goblin black powder blinding the pirate and taking him out of the fight. The second man fired, the round striking Beckyann in the abdomen and again piercing her armor. She merely grunted and pointed at him, freezing cold air howling around him and rending his flesh from the right side of his body. Even as she did this, Beckyann had to turn to dodge another cut from a pirate that had come up behind her; she was slowly being surrounded by the large numbers of them remaining. Her attacker grunted as he was stabbed behind by the prisoner she had freed before that man, in turn, was cut down.

Beckyann rolled again, bringing her runeblade up to block another blow as she looked around for a way out of the situation. The deck was covered with gore now and a mob of angry pirates was descending on her from all sides. In desperation, she brought her runeblade up above her head and uttered the words to a spell, grunting as a saber stabbed her. The damage to her physical form was starting to add up and she knew she had limited time to act.

A rush of freezing cold air descended from her sword and flowed all around her. Several of the pirates froze to death instantly, their bodies turning into almost beautiful ice sculptures from the power of the spell they'd been struck with. Although the spell didn't hit all of the pirates, it removed four more from the battle and gave Beckyann enough time to begin another chant. Regrettably it also struck two of the prisoners, freezing them to death alongside their captors. The fact meant little to Beckyann though; she hadn't been hired to rescue them in the first place!

This time her blade glowed black, runes expiring on it as she poured her magical energy into the spell. She was an expert at the magic she was using now, and the foul words of the spell flowed from her black lips almost casually. All around her, tendrils of black magic arced out and struck the newly dead, causing the bodies to twitch as they began to rise to the call of their mistress. Almost instantly they turned on their former companions, and the battle shifted from a mass of men descending on the blonde death knight to a swirling melee as now-frightened pirates battled the enraged ghouls that were once their companions.

Beckyann used the confusion as an opportunity to slip from the center of the battle. She cut down another pirate that stood in her way as she rushed to one side of the ship, heading towards where the battery of cannons were located. She slammed her runeblade down into the deck to secure it and grabbed one of the cannons, using her unnatural strength to move the object around. Normally it would have taken a crew of men to reposition it and aim it, but she wasn't going for finesse at the moment and simply sliding it sideways was enough. As she'd hoped, the weapon was still loaded from its engagement with the alliance vessel.

Five pirates rushed towards Beckyann and then skidded to a halt as she looked at them over the barrel of the cannon. She offered them a sweet smile and a little wave before holding one of the cannon's torches to its fuse.

The weapon discharged with a roar, nearly knocking Beckyann over from the recoil as it rolled past her and slammed into the gunwale of the ship, shattering it and falling into the sea. But this was not the most interesting effect of the cannon's firing. The cannonball within it flew out, slamming into the deck of the ship with a shower of splinters and plunging into the depths below, just as Beckyann had planned. Pirates and ghouls alike fell to the deck from the force of the concussion, but unfortunately there was one more ill-effect that Beckyann had not counted on at all.

The shot struck the ship's powder room.

Before Beckyann could even move, the ship bucked and shattered in the center from the force of a massive explosion deep within it. She found herself being hurled through the air and far out over the side of the ship, the force of the blast almost enough to render even a death knight unconscious from the sheer impact. In the distance, she saw other people flying in similar trajectories off of the wreckage of a ship that had just been torn in half by a horrifying blast. Burning wood rained down around a mushroom cloud of fire, the doomed vessel already taking on water.

At that point, Beckyann struck the water and was plunged into blackness as the weight of her plate armor began to drag her down like a rock. She rolled her eyes in irritation, knowing that if she sank too low she'd be crushed by the pressure of the water. Her fingers began to move almost of their own will, grabbing straps and slowly divesting herself of her armor one piece at a time, each piece slowing her descent as she became more buoyant. A living person would have drown in the time it took her to remove the last piece of armor, but then, breathing was not something Beckyann was seriously concerned with any longer.

Finally, the last piece had been removed and she began to ascend back up to the water's surface. When her head broke through the water, she began swimming, looking around to see twin pillars of smoke rising into the air where both ships were sinking. In the distance, the cries of pirates could be heard as sharks circled, looking for their next meal. All of it was irrelevant to Beckyann however, and she merely shook her head as she tread water.

“Ooops...” she murmured. With a sigh she muttered the words to a spell, making the water in front of her solid as ice. Slowly she climbed onto the floating ice before using another spell to open a death gate and stumble through.

She reappeared in Acherus, standing in front of two death knight initiates. For a moment, she looked at them curiously, wondering why they were staring at her. That was when she realized that she was wearing only her underthings, completely soaked, covered in small wounds that oozed her brackish blood and bereft of her runeblade.

She offered the initiates a glare and growled at them, “Not. A. Word.”

The two initiates quickly stood at attention, nodding at her, “Yes Ma'am. We haven't seen anything Ma'am.”

Beckyann merely nodded once, walking away with her nose up as if it was perfectly normal for her to appear in such a state in Acherus. Her bare feet left wet footprints on the moldy stones of the place as she headed back towards her quarters.

She really really hated pirates.

Charlatan

The crowds began to thicken as Beckyann pushed her way through towards the Trade District of Stormwind. She was out on errands again and had to make purchases from several of the merchants there. Unfortunately, what could only be described as a 'herd' of people had gathered along one of the canals, pushing and shoving and packing into a tight, cramped mass that was blocking her path.

As she squeezed her way in amongst the people, she heard a loud voice carrying out over the crowd. She looked past the people to see a man standing on a crate addressing the crowd. It was clear that he was the reason for the mass of people, and as she watched he gestured rather theatrically at the audience before him.

The man was of middle age and partly balding. He wore long white robes with a blue sash and blue tassels of fabric that hung from each shoulder.  On his head he wore a cloth hat in white and blue that much resembled one that a person would see on a priest nearer to the cathedral. All in all, he looked to be a holy man and his words and gestures seemed to confirm this.

"And they will say that in these dark days all are doomed!" his voice echoed. "But I tell you this is not the case! You can take steps to protect yourselves friends! The Light sees your need and provides! I can show you the way, and with this miracle holy water, you can defend your homes and your very lives from such horrors!"

Beckyann rolled her eyes beneath her tinted glasses, a smirk playing across her face as she imagined the 'horrors' that the man likely had described before her arrival. The pompous fool continued to gesture, holding up a vial of water and proclaiming its properties in a kitsch display of showmanship that rivaled even the best snakeoil salesman she'd ever seen.

As he continued, Beckyann couldn't help but notice that the crowd was enamored with his performance, watching him attentively as he waved his hands and made the golden rings on his fingers flash in the sunlight. It was clear that there was still enough fear in the common people to allow such a charlatan to ply his trade anywhere, because beyond seeing the crowd's reaction, Beckyann also noticed a distinct lack of discomfort from the presence of the Light which would be the case if the man was really what he claimed to be. A sneer crossed her features as she watched him.

That was, of course, when he looked directly at her.

"You!" he pointed. The crowd before her parted as they all turned to see what the man was looking at. "I can tell you are in need of cleansing! Please, let me help you so that these others can find their way to the protection of the Light. Let them see its benevolence and feel its warm embrace."

Beckyann paused in surprise, looking around at the faces turned towards her. After a moment, she shrugged and offered the charlatan a smile, nodding her head. "Sure."

The man grinned and stepped down off his crate, quickly hurrying up to her. He brought the vial up again, letting it shine in the sunlight, "I bring you inner peace and cleansing miss! You will be bathed in the Light's embrace and protected from Darkness! Let your soul be cleansed!"

Before Beckyann could say anything, the man uncorked the vial and threw the water in her face. As she knew it would be, it was just plain ordinary drinking water, and had absolutely no effect on her. Her eyes met the man's gaze from behind her tinted glasses and something in the way he looked at her spoke volumes. It was almost as if he were asking for her help.

Beckyann blinked once and then coughed and sputtered out, "O-oh...oh my...I...I CAN FEEL IT BURNING ME! THE LIGHT IS SO POWERFUL!"

She tore off her glasses, her glowing blue eyes making the crowd back away. With a whispered word, she enhanced the glow of scourge magic there, clawing at her face in mock agony, "I-it's too strong! Such a powerful elixir! I am undone!"

With what Beckyann considered to be a well performed showing, she pretended to stumble sideways, crashing into some other stacked crates and laying atop them. The crowd watched her for a moment and then broke into applause, already beginning to thrust coins at the charlatan's face.

Some time later, the crowd had dispersed and the 'holy' man stood alone on the street, counting his coins happily. As he finished up, a shadow fell over him and a female coughed lightly. He looked up to see Beckyann standing there, her hand extended, palm upwards.

"Oh come on now..." he began to complain. Beckyann merely stared at him with her eerie blue eyes, her golden hair still damp from the water he'd thrown on her. After a moment of her staring him down, he sighed and dumped a fistful of coins into her palm.

Beckyann grinned, slipping the coins into the bodice of her dress before giving him a mock curtsey. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."

With that she turned and walked away, heading back to take care of her errands. Some might think it wrong to lie to the innocents lining the street, but if less of them believed in the Light then less of them would burn her with it in the future. Plus she'd made some good coin. A win-win situation in anyone's book, and a bonus for the day.

If only her hair hadn't been messed up in the process....

Pursuit

Beckyann's heels clicked on the paving stones as she walked through the deserted streets of Old Town. The sound echoed from the shuttered buildings around her, eerily rebounding from the stone fronts of buildings and carrying far on the wind. She paid it no mind, pulling her overcoat tightly around herself to avoid getting her dress wet from the water that was still dripping from the eaves. It had rained recently and there were also puddles to avoid along the ill-repaired road.

As she walked, Beckyann maintained a neutral expression on her face, but her mind was tense. She studied the sound of the echoes her heels made, noting a faint pattern returning in the sound that she knew was not from her own feet. Someone was walking behind her, had been walking behind her for several minutes now through this otherwise deserted part of town.

Still acting normally, Beckyann slowly picked up her pace, not enough to concern whoever it was behind her, but enough to discern if the person was trying to keep up with her or if it was just random coincidence that caused the person to follow her. As she picked up her pace, the pace of the echoing footsteps behind her also increased, and she bit her lip in irritation.

A normal woman would be filled with fear. Walking in a darkened part of town where no one could hear her cries, she might be concerned that a rapist or cutthroat dogged her steps, waiting for the moment to strike. To Beckyann, such concerns were beyond her. If it was a man thinking to prey on her, it would make her giggle for a moment to know that she'd fooled him into thinking she was alive.

And then she'd tear out his throat.

No, it was not a mortal, mundane concern that filled Beckyann's mind as she again picked up her pace, but a growing feeling behind her that she could recognize from some distance away. The one thing that could make her skin crawl and make her feel like she wanted to throw up. Whoever was following her (and they were definitely following her!) was giving off a radiance, a hint of Light that left her feeling ill just thinking about it.

She was being followed by a paladin.

She turned a corner, thinking to lose line of sight with the person. As soon as she did, she broke and ran, her heels digging into the cobblestones as best as she could. There was some risk she would break her ankle, but pain was a dull and distant thing to her now so she was willing to take the chance to get away from the Light-wielder that had chosen to pursue her for some unknown reason.

Behind her, the steady footsteps of her pursuer picked up, turning into a clanking, banging rumble as the person began to pursue her in earnest. There was no mistaking it now, she was being followed by a plate-armored Light-wielder and she had no idea why. Worse, she was wearing a dress and bereft of her combat armor, having been working in Stormwind and going about her errands. She would have to use deadly and illegal magic if she were going to defend herself.

In a panic, Beckyann rushed around another corner, her eyes widening and her shoes sliding on the cobblestones as she came to an abrupt stop in a dead end. She'd taken a wrong turn in her flight and now there was nowhere to go. The sound of her pursuer grew louder and she turned, prepared to face the inevitable.

Why must they hound me? What have I done to deserve this? I just want to exist and go about my business, but this is too much to ask isn't it? Perhaps I've been a fool to think that I can change anyone's minds. Maybe this entire thing is the hopeless dream of a forlorn spirit. Whatever the case, I won't give in. I will fight to the bitter end to protect my right to BE.

As the sound of her pursuer grew even louder, Beckyann's hand crept up to her hair. She had her golden locks done up in a bun to keep it off her overcoat while she was walking. As she had told Redamous, when she dressed up she didn't like to be completely unarmed. Her fingers slid amongst the strands of her hair, feeling the decorative metallic hilt that was concealed as a hairpin.

It was a feeble weapon at best. A long stiletto-like pin that had a single death rune inscribed on it. Unlike a living person however, Beckyann could use it to channel rather deadly magics, and a stab wound from it would fester. It was better than nothing, and all she had. She paused, hand on her hair, not drawing the weapon yet as she waited.

She didn't have long to wait. In another moment, the form of a silver-armored paladin appeared, jogging in his heavy plate and looking slightly out of breath through the open face of his helm. He stopped when he saw Beckyann, bending forward a little and placing his hands on his upper-thighs, gasping for breath.

“S-sorry, you run r-really fast,” the man panted. Beckyann noted with a quick inspection that he was likely slightly out of shape based on the extra weight he carried in his visible face. She remained still as stone as he looked up at her and straightened. “I didn't think I'd catch you.”

“You've caught me as you can plainly see,” Beckyann stated coldly. “There is nowhere else I can possibly go. What would you have with me?”

The paladin offered her a smile and then reached to his belt, his hand near the hilt of his blessed sword. Beckyann tensed, her eyes locked on his hand. The man reached past the sword and pulled out a pouch, holding it up in his hand and bouncing it lightly in his palm. A coin pouch.

HER coin pouch.

“You dropped this at the market Miss,” the paladin said pleasantly. “I think a cutpurse tried to take it from you but was only able to sever one of the strings. It fell loose as you were walking and I saw it. I'm sorry if I alarmed you, but I didn't want you to lose so much coin.”

Beckyann blinked a few times, her hand slowly sinking down away from the weapon concealed in her hair, “T-thank you. I...I hadn't noticed. That was kind of you to bring it to me.”

The paladin smiled and tossed the pouch to Beckyann, who caught it with a quick movement. He gave her a formal bow and one last smile, his voice more calm as he regained his breath, “It is my pleasure to serve citizens of the Alliance miss. You have a pleasant evening.”

With that he turned and left, leaving Beckyann staring at the pouch in her hand, a half-smile on her face.

Perhaps it was not all in vain after all.

Flowers for Beckyann

Beckyann sat at the small desk that she had been provided in the Stormwind Regional Headquarters of the 1113^th. Spread out in front of her were a variety of forms, documents, stamps, inks, quills, and paperclips. She had a large stack of papers in a wire basket on either side of the desk, one labeled 'Complete' and one labeled 'To Do' with the 'To Do' pile being much larger.

As she completed a document and pressed a seal against it, Beckyann sighed, looking over the stack of mundane forms and requisitions that she had yet to complete. It was going to take hours, and even though she no longer needed to sleep that didn't mean she relished doing menial tasks late into the evening. But it had to be done, or General Glou might become dissatisfied either with her own work or with the documents being submitted by others in the 1113^th, and she would be damned if she let one of her fellow brothers and sisters suffer as a result of a misfiled form, not when she was adept at such things.

With a groan she reached over for the next form in the pile; she was beginning to suspect that being tortured to death by the Cult of the Damned was actually lenient compared to this particular slice of the hells. Her glowing blue eyes examined the form, and she winced, ALMOST feeling like she could get a headache if such things could happen to the unliving.

“No no no NO! This form is supposed to be in BLUE ink,” she muttered angrily. “And it's not even stamped properly. I'm going to have to redo the entire thing. Just great!”

As her tirade ended, the door to the headquarters opened. Since Beckyann's desk didn't warrant a private office or anything fancy, she looked up to see a man entering bearing a bouquet of white roses. Her eyebrows rose in curiosity as he entered.

“May I help you sir? You're in the headquarters of the 1113^th, not the florist shop,” Beckyann said in a flat tone.

The man looked at her somewhat nervously, reading the card on the flowers before looking up, “U-uh, I'm l-looking for a M-miss Eastberg. D-do you know where she is?”

If Beckyann's eyebrows had not been grown with necromancy, they likely would have fallen off her head as they shot up rather abruptly, “Wait what? Those are for ME? Are you sure...?”

The man seemed relieved to have immediately found who he was looking for, plopping them down on her desk and backing up, nodding. “Y-yes Miss! Here you go! Have a wonderful night...er...if you can..”

With that he was gone, leaving Beckyann with a beautiful bouquet and a lot of questions. She hesitantly reached out to read the label:

Dear Miss Eastberg,

Thank you so much for your help today. No matter what anyone says, you are our guardian angel. We will never forget your kindness.

Love,

The Tanner Family

Beckyann smiled as she leaned back in her chair, recalling earlier that day.

****************************

She'd been taking a walk through Elwynn, heading back towards the pauper's graveyard that she'd found earlier on in the week. Curious as to who might be buried there and eager to study the inscriptions now that she had time to herself, she hurried down the path through the woods. As they had before, voices greeted her through the woods and almost immediately spoiled her trip.

“No! Stop that at once! It's so disrespectful! Get away from there you brats!” a female voice cried out.

“Shut up lady, we'll do what we want. Ain't gonna have you tellin' us what we can do. You ain't my mom!” a rather snotty sounding younger voice returned.

Rolling her eyes, Beckyann pushed on, rounding the last bend and coming up on the cemetery. The graves here were simple, with only a few headstones and steel markers to show where the dead lay. Although Beckyann had believed the place to be unused, it seemed that she had been mistaken. Standing amongst the headstones was a woman with two small children in tow, a bouquet of white roses in her hands. Several of the other graves were marked with similar flowers, and it seemed the woman had come to either tidy up the place, or at least honor her family members that were buried there.

Unfortunately for the woman, there were also about five or six teenagers who had obviously come into the cemetery to cause mischief. Ranging from fifteen to eighteen, they had wandered all over the cemetery and tipped over headstones and disturbed graves. As Beckyann watched, two of them stumbled into each other, laughing. It was obvious they were completely smashed from some local brew.

“Get away from that headstone!” the woman yelled again as two of the boys tipped another stone over. The woman cried out but didn't step forward, afraid for her two children. The sight sent a burning rage through the death knight.

“Enough.” she said, her tone menacing. Something in the way she stood made the boys pause, and they turned to look at her. “You will fix the headstones you've knocked over and then leave this place in peace.”

The boy closest to Beckyann sneered, pointing at her and shouting, “You aint' tellin' us either lady. Get lost. We're just havin' some fun!”

Beckyann didn't reply, simply reaching up to remove her glasses. Her baleful glare bored into the boy, and dark magic began to curl around her. The wind grew chilly, and the grass near her feet began to blacken and die as the words to a Death and Decay spell danced through her mind. Although she didn't lash out at the teens, the message in Beckyann's stance was clear.

The boys sobered up almost immediately, looking at each other fearfully and then begrudgingly turning and setting headstones back in place, cleaning up the cemetery. Beckyann just stood there, staring at them until they finished. As they turned to go, the bravest of them turned and spat in her direction, “You ain't gonna get away with this. The guards'll hear about one of you things threatening us. You're as good as dead.”

As the boy turned around, Beckyann pointed at him, dark tendrils of magic wrapping around his waist and drawing him near. He landed within her grasp, her cold, dead fingers closing around his throat. As his friends looked on in horror, Beckyann smiled and leaned closer, whispering into his ear with her black lips, “I don't sleep anymore. Ever. Remember that when you are in your bed and looking out of your window into the darkness. Your parents will never know what happened to you. They'll think you just took a fever in the night. That you must have caught something while you were out in the woods. And you did, didn't you? But we'll know. You and I will know. And it won't be quick. You'll wish your parents had come to check on you while you slept, but they won't be there to help you.”

The boy quivered in fear in her grasp, actually wetting his pants. Beckyann released her grip on him, and he fell to the ground, clutching at one of her boots. She shifted away from him in contempt. Glaring at the others, “Or you can leave, and we'll never discuss this again. Your choice.”

The boy at her feet scrambled to his feet and ran for it, his friends quickly following suit. Beckyann simply shrugged and straightened out her dress, turning to study the headstones she'd come to look at. Behind her, the woman cleared her throat and Beckyann turned, tilting her head, “Yes?”

“T-thank you M-miss,” the woman stuttered. “That was my husband's marker. I'd just gone to fetch more flowers for him.”

Beckyann turned away, shrugging. “I will not watch someone defile the grave of a person who still has loved ones to tend it. Think nothing of it. And my name is Beckyann. Beckyann Eastberg of the 1113^th. If they come to disturb you again, call on me.”

“I will Miss Eastberg,” the woman said, nodding happily. “You don't know what this means to me.”

**********************************

In the headquarters in Stormwind, Beckyann came to know exactly what it meant to the woman. The flowers were not inexpensive, and a poor family likely would have had to spend several week's pay just to purchase one of the bouquets. Beckyann remembered what it was like when she was growing up.

Clearly the gesture had meant much.

With a smile, the death knight took one of the roses from the bouquet, using an envelope opener to cut the bud off before affixing the flower in her hair. She smiled and got back to her paperwork, her mood uplifted.

Music- A Beckyann Short

The sound traveled through the forest, the melody haunting as it drifted on the wind. Distant at first, it grew louder as Beckyann pushed her way through the dense foliage. Around her, the carefully sculpted and tended forest seemed to sway with the sound, golden leaves drifting down from the boughs above here and there, the air like a warm caress on the skin.

Most of the beauty was lost on Beckyann as she pushed forward, her plate armor catching on branches and bushes as she forced herself through the terrain. She had moved into the thickest part of the wooded area to avoid being spotted by any patrols. She was, after all, in enemy territory. The thought gave her little pause as she peered through the bushes ahead, her baleful gaze seeking out the source of the music.

Ahead of her, a river ran through the white and gold forest, the clear water bubbling as it ran between smooth stones hidden beneath the surface. Flowered plants grew along the bank of the river, their colors beautiful enough even for Beckyann to appreciate. It was from the river's edge that the sound drifted, the gentle sound of a violin being played by expert hands. The melody was foreign to Beckyann, but the sound of the instrument was something she knew well, and she paused in the bushes, stopping to listen.

Her hearing was one of the few senses that she had which worked perfectly even in undeath, and her trained ears soaked in the sound of the music, the pleasure of just listening a feeling that she often no longer experienced in her new unlife. With the music all around her, Beckyann's mind wandered down the hallways of her memories, emotions stirring that normally were dormant.

She remembered when she was a little girl, how her mother would hum a particular tune to her as she brushed her long golden hair out, the sound coming over Beckyann's shoulder in a soothing wave. As she grew older, she came to realize that her mother always hummed the same exact song, and the melody became familiar to her.

When she was five years of age, she learned where her mother had heard the song. It was played by a small group of musicians who traveled through Lordaeron, making coin by selling tickets to listen to their art. They would revisit the areas they had previously traveled every few years, and Beckyann's fifth birthday was the first time they had come to Corin's Crossing. Her parents had scraped together what meager coin they had to get their daughter a ticket to listen, and along with many of the other townsfolk she had sat in the town hall in one of the reserved seats, her little green eyes wide as she heard the talented musicians play.

While all of the instruments were played beautifully, Beckyann was immediately drawn to the soft sound of the violin. The instrument's melody touched something deep within her, stirring her heart and emotions even as a child. As she grew older, she would try and save enough coin so that she could hear the musicians each time they came to the Crossing, enchanted every time by the sound. It was like a milestone in her life, marking the passing of the years and the steps she took towards adulthood.

When she left the Crossing for a brighter future, Beckyann always carried her appreciation of the instrument with her, and even learned to play it a little while in Dalaran, although she had never become an expert. The sound of the instrument would always affect her, reminding her of a simple time when life was good even in poverty and she was happy.

On the bank of the river, the blood elf who had been playing the instrument finished her song, carefully setting the instrument down beside her as she glanced out over the flowing water. Her hair blew playfully in the wind as she dipped her feet in the cool water, bending over to look down at her reflection.

Behind her, two glowing points of blue light appeared, and with a sharp and sudden pain several feet of runeblade was thrust through her body, the point exploding from the front of her chest in a shower of gore. The spatters of blood mixed with the flowing water and blurred the reflection of a mortally wounded elf, her mouth open in shock.

Beckyann smirked as the now-dead Sin'dorei slipped from the end of her runeblade, the body slumping halfway into the flowing river, blood streaming out into water. The elf had not heard the death knight as she'd approached, and killing her had taken only a moment. Beckyann had ventured into the forests of Eversong to do some scouting, given that she'd been fighting Sin'dorei for several days now unabated. The creatures liked to violate Alliance territory, and it was always wise to keep an eye on one's enemies, especially when they were so close to Acherus.

As she flicked blood from her blade and sheathed it, Beckyann smiled and bent down, scooping up the violin and studying it. It was a beautiful instrument, hand-made by the elves of Quel'Thalas and lovingly cared for. Even a very inexperienced player would be able to make beautiful sounds with it. With a happy look on her face, Beckyann slipped the instrument into its case, taking it and turning from her victim.

“Well, at least this trip wasn't a total waste,” Beckyann murmured to herself. She'd seen no build-up of elven forces, although given that she was very unskilled in the forest, she could very well have been walking in circles the entire time and have missed something.

With a shrug she murmured the words to a spell, opening a death gate. Perhaps there were more hostile elves within the beautiful woods around her, but she'd wasted enough time and had to attend to her duties. Later she would enjoy the fine instrument that she'd procured, courtesy of the Sin'dorei.