A Pot- A Beckyann Short

Beckyann grabbed the pot and lifted it up, quickly tucking it under one arm before she turned to leave the geist's table. It was odd enough that the creature was selling things in Acherus without a death knight to guide it, but even more odd was that it just happened to be selling something she was looking for!

She was in the midst of an experiment involving necromancy, and as it so happened, some of the blood she was using kept spilling from the cup she normally used. Since the spell required a lot of blood, a larger vessel was required and the decorative pot would do just the trick! She quickly hurried back to her quarters where she'd left her experiment half-finished, bolting the door behind her.

As she approached her workspace, she set the pot down, moving objects on the top of her desk out of the way so there would be room. She'd cleared off all of the inks, parchment, and other materials she normally kept there in order to try the spell. It was one that she hoped to add to her rejuvenation rituals at some point; a spell that would refresh the look of her skin and hair if applied with the proper reagents such as blood.

There always had to be blood after all!

With a smile, Beckyann began to hum to herself as she went about setting her experiment back up. She moved several beakers of strange liquids to the center of the table, carefully re-inscribing runes on the surface that would act as focal points for the necromantic energies that would flow around the central rune.

As she went to place the pot in the middle, Beckyann felt an odd shifting within it. Frowning, she paused what she was doing, lifting the pot back up and peering inside. She discovered that the pot was not as empty as she'd hoped, the bottom being filled with black ash and bits of bone. Clearly the decorative vessel had been used as an urn at some point, and the previous occupant still resided within it. Not that this would be a problem for her spellcasting, it just required a quick tidying up beforehand.

With a shrug, Beckyann lifted the pot and upended it, flinging the contents across the floor of her room. She'd have a geist sweep it up later. The ash drifted in the air before slowly settling on the floor, bits of bone dropping more quickly. None of this mattered much to Beckyann, and she went to turn back towards her experiment when a sound caught her attention. It was not the sound of little bits of bone striking the floor, but a metallic jingle that made her turn back in curiosity.

There, in the middle of the room lay a tiny bit of metal, the surface of it burned from its contact with the fires that had consumed the body in the urn. As Beckyann bent down to examine it, the familiar emblem of Lordaeron glimmered at her in steel from where it lay on the floor. Slowly, as if in a trance, Beckyann reached out and scooped the small object up, holding it in the palm of her hand.

It was old, that much was certain. Likely a military badge pin or perhaps an award for valor. Time and the fires had made it difficult to tell, but the stylized 'L' was still plain to see. Holding it in her hand, feeling it there and seeing it sent a range of emotions spiraling through Beckyann that caused her to gasp once and take in a breath of air. She turned it over and over in her hands before looking down at the ash that now covered the floor of her quarters.

Clearly the occupant of the ash had been in Lordaeron's military at some point. Perhaps he had died trying to protect his dying country from the Scourge. Perhaps SHE had fought the orcs when they troubled these lands. It was impossible to tell now if she stared at a mighty hero or a simple soldier, but the fact remained that the person was one of her people, a countryman and patriot. Someone she would have respected in life.

Solemnly, Beckyann whispered the words to a spell, a gale of freezing cold wind blowing the ash into a pile in the corner of her room. With another murmur, the ash swirled into the air, depositing itself around her quarters like a fine black powder, losing itself in the cracks and crevices and sealed away forever. In this way, there was not enough of it to use to resurrect the person or enslave him or her in undeath. Beckyann was simply doing them a favor.

She smiled to herself and set the bit of metal down on her desk before turning and placing the now empty urn on the table. She reached over, pouring the first vial of blood into it as she began her spell.

“This is going to be the best skin lotion I have EVER made,” she murmured happily to herself as she began to work.

Hours later, Beckyann would leave her quarters, her skin and hair looking more rejuvenated than they normally did. She wore a dress with a dark black cloak to ward off foul weather as she headed towards the gryphons to return her to Stormwind.

As she mounted her undead gryphon, the wind blew her cloak out, and it was halted only by the clasp. The clasp glimmered in the dull light of the fading day, a worn and stylized 'L' plainly visible.