The snow fell all around her, each flake unique and pure white. The winds blew the flakes into little cyclones, flowing white powder drifting over the white landscape and dancing in beautiful patterns. It glittered here and there, the unmarred newly-fallen flakes almost a promise that even the most vile places can be reborn as something new. The snowbanks and falling flakes went on forever, as far as the eye could see, promising mysteries and chilly adventure on the distant horizon.
All of the beauty, all of the soul-inspiring majesty of the place, was lost on Beckyann as her cold blue eyes stared into the falling snow, ignoring it utterly. It settled on her in places, landing in her hair and piling up on the cold plates of her armor. If not for the necromancy that fueled her, she would have frozen into a solid lump of ice, covered by snow and made pure by the piling drifts; just another part of the frozen landscape.
She stood as still as one of the frozen trees around her, unmoving in conditions that would have made a living woman shiver with chill before eventually succumbing to hypothermia. The cold meant little to Beckyann, not even bothering her when flakes landed on those small sections of her arms and midriff that her armor exposed. She had long ago passed beyond such petty concerns that occupied the thoughts of the living. Even so, though the cold did not bite at her, Beckyann did not wait patiently or in comfort as she stood in place, her mind a swirling quagmire of doubt.
What am I doing here? Is this really a rational idea? Is it even my own idea, or something that was put in my head? I'm not sure if I can go down that train of thought, as I fear it might drive me mad.
No one knew she was there of course, and no one would see her where she waited. She would tell no one that she'd come, and only the doubts in her mind would keep her company during her vigil. It was difficult to still them though, when so many questions lingered on within her, making her question who and what she was.
Red was concerned. He didn't think it was 'natural' or whatever term he used. I don't know how to explain it to him though. I can't tell him everything, nor would he care to hear the details about everything. He's just going off what he's seen and what he fears, and I can't fault him for that. I'm not even sure if I understand this myself half the time, but I know it's my own self, my own thoughts that drive my decisions. At least I know that.
In the distance Beckyann's baleful gaze detected movement in the snow; distant figures that struggled to walk across the newly fallen drifts. They wouldn't be walking far in these conditions, but they didn't have to; it was likely beneficial for those doing the walking to understand how to overcome such obstacles, possibly even using magic to do so. The thought brought a half-smile to her lips as she remembered her own attempts to do such things long ago.
What Red can never understand is not how I was affected, but what those moments showed me and what I remember. I can never be alive again, can never look forward to the future as I did in life. I can never dream of what it means to have a family, to care for my own children, to raise them and watch them grow and have lives of their own. But for a moment, for the briefest of moments, I was allowed to feel what that might have been like. It was a blessing and a curse I guess in its own way; a cruel thing to inflict on one of our kind. I should be filled with hatred for what that girl did to me, should wish to rend her to pieces, and yet I find a little part of myself utterly grateful to her for giving me one tiny piece of a dream I lost long ago, even if just for a moment.
The people slogging their way through the snow would never see Beckyann of course; with her dark black, silver, and gray armor she blended in well with the swirling snow and the grayness of the sky and scenery around her. When holding perfectly still as she was and letting the snow pile atop her blonde hair no one who wasn't a highly trained Kaldorei scout would detect her. It was an advantage that the undead had in battle; they could remain perfectly still until the time was right.
As Beckyann watched, the figures drew closer, heading back towards a series of cabins that bore emblems of the Kirin Tor upon them. The group had only a short distance to go, which was a good thing considering the small size of many of those walking through the beginnings of what would probably be a bad storm. They had wisely decided to come in from their lessons before it arrived, and Beckyann had the perfect opportunity to view them.
Her eyes scanned over the group, mostly children and lead by an aging teacher who would instruct them in magic. As she looked past him, her vision alighted on a figure that was taller than the others, her form stumbling in the snow clumsily as they made their way to warmth. As she saw the girl, Beckyann's face crept into a half-smile, the only movement she made as the group passed near her hidden location.
Almaria had returned to her lessons, as Beckyann had asked her to do.
Why should it matter to me if she did? The girl cast a spell on me and harmed me. And yet I cannot let her walk the course I did so long ago. She is naive in a way, innocent in her mind despite the magic that she so easily conjures.
Beckyann paused, watching the group move out of her eyesight and into the safety and warmth of the structures the Kirin Tor had left in place for their students. In her mind, she felt a strange sense of peace come over her, and she shook her head, finally moving and letting snow fall away from her as she turned to leave. She would not stop to speak with the girl or with her teacher; she had only been there to watch.
If I'd have had a child, he or she would have been perhaps ten years old now, maybe a little less. The child would have acted much like Almaria. It is hard to separate that fact from the reality that she is only a little younger than myself sometimes. She is not my daughter, she can never be my daughter.
And yet... I will not see her walk the path that I walked. I don't care what Red or anyone else says about it, the girl will prosper and be taught to take care of herself. I will see to it myself if need be, although I suspect the Kirin Tor will do a fine job of it.
Beckyann grinned as she crunched through freshly fallen snow, packing it down with her armored boots as she entered a clearing where her gryphon had been waiting for her. The beast hissed at her and she ignored it as she mounted, one final thought creeping through her mind.
They'd BETTER do a fine job of it... for they have no idea who it is that watches over the girl now. There will be no new chapter of horrors, no new mistakes that could so easily have been avoided. I will watch over her until she is safely walking a different course.
Light help anyone who tries to stop me.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Site Write Bonus Entry- Regal
Beckyann sighed, looking around the shop she was in and almost immediately determining that there was absolutely nothing that she wanted. In the heart of Stormwind's trade district, her shopping trip had thus far been going only moderately well; in one hand she carried a bag that contained two dresses, a stylish new hat, and two pieces of jewelry that she'd purchased. It wasn't a terrible haul, but she honestly had been expecting to find more. The fall fashions were just so ugly this year! She was either getting out of style with the times, or perhaps not looking in the right places.
Just as she was about to give up hope that this fourth and final stop on her trip would yield good results, her sunglass-hidden eyes alighted upon a rack on the far side of the shop, and she saw 'it'.
'It' was a long, regal purple cloak the likes of which she had been searching for over the past few weeks. Perfectly hued to match a long purple dress she'd recently acquired from a tomb, the golden threading along the edges of the cloak made it look rich and elegant even though it was on a clearance rack. Beckyann rushed over to the far side of the store, eagerly reaching out to pull it from the shelf.
"Can I help you with something, miss?" a kindly voice came from behind her.
Beckyann whirled around, cloak in hand as she thrust it and her coin purse at the shopkeeper, "Yes! YES! This! I want this! WHY AREN'T YOU TAKING MY MONEY RIGHT NOW?!"
Blinking in surprise, the shopkeeper took the cloak and coin purse from the overly excited woman and guided her to the counter where he collected the price of the cloak and gave her her change. Moments later an extremely happy Beckyann was walking down one of the canal's streets with two bags in her hands, entirely satisfied with the trip.
As she turned the corner, heading towards a more distant part of the city where she could open a Death Gate to return to the Ebon Hold, she spied a cart sitting alongside one of the canals. As she approached, details became apparent and she saw that the cart had an opened side that displayed a number of pots, pans, knives, and other simple household goods. An old man sat on a stool in front of the open cart, pushing a knife along a whetstone to sharpen it. Beside him a little brown-haired girl played along the edge of the canal with a ragdoll that had seen better days.
Beckyann was about to pass by when something made her pause and take a closer look. She stood in place, studying the old man and his daughter. His cart was typical of a tinkerer or pot-mender, the interior having a number of implements to perform simple repairs on household items and utensils. His clothes were threadbare, and his shoes had seen better days, his gray hair thinning atop his head and his skin looking weathered and worn from the years.
The little girl playing beside him was in no better condition, her dress having several tears in it and loose threading at the hem. What was worse, she wore no shoes, even though the year was getting later and the cooler weather had arrived in the evenings. She played happily enough, staying near her father as he worked and content with her doll that was missing one of its button eyes.
Memories tickled the back of Beckyann's mind as she watched the old man work. Everything about him reminded her of her own father, and the pair reminded her of her own lot in life when she was the girl's age. She recalled the crushing poverty that they had lived with in Corin's Crossing. She recalled the sound of her father's whetstone at work as he did little odds and ends for the townsfolk to scrape by, his little work shed and the area around it behind their shack a playground for the young Beckyann. She even recalled having to go an entire season without shoes one year when she'd outgrown her own and they simply couldn't afford to buy her any.
"Miss, can I help you with something?" the old man said, startling Beckyann out of her thoughts. She blinked once, realizing she'd been standing there too long and had attracted his attention.
"O-oh, no sir, no. I was just...remembering something," Beckyann replied.
He must have sensed her undead state by the faint echo in her voice. Although she tried to hide it, it was fairly obvious that she was not amongst the living and he blanched, setting down the knife he'd been working on and looking nervous, "S-sorry to disturb you, Miss. W-we don't really have anything y-you'd want..."
Beckyann blinked, feeling uncharacteristically guilty for alarming the old man. Realizing that her disguise had failed, she pushed her sunglasses up on her head so he could see her expression, offering him a kind smile, "Sir, it's really alright. I just paused because...well, you reminded me of my family, of people that are long gone now but that I still hold fond memories of."
The man relaxed slightly, still looking nervous but nodding as if he accepted what Beckyann had said. She let her gaze shift to the young girl that was playing by the edge of the canal, questioning the old man, "Do you not have shoes for her, sir? The winter is coming and it will be a cold one."
She could hear the sorrow in his tone as he replied, "Afraid not. We just...we don't have the coin. I'm lucky enough to feed her each day and I take that as a blessing from the Light as it is. Once things went bad in Westfall we came here, hoping to make a living, but it's been tough."
Beckyann considered this for a few moments, strange emotions warring within her as she remembered having no shoes in the snow. It hurt terribly to step on the ice when she had to go outside for any reason, and she nearly had frostbite many times as a child. It was suffering, as was poverty itself at times, and she knew well how it could shape a life. Something in her stirred, and she took a step towards the girl, kneeling down beside her and ignoring the concern on the old man's face.
"Hi!" the little girl said, looking up at Beckyann. "Ooooooh! You have pretty blue eyes!"
Beckyann smiled, nodding at the girl, "And you have pretty green ones. Mine used to be like yours as well. Is this your doll?"
The little girl nodded, beaming, "Yes! Her name is Sarah! Ohhhh, that is a pretty blanket you have!"
Beckyann tilted her head, seeing where the girl was pointing and understanding she meant the purple cloak that was sticking from the top of the bag. She reached down, removing it from the bag and holding it up before the little girl, "Do you really think so?"
"Oh yes! It looks so warm! You're lucky to have such a warm one for when its cold at night!" the little girl said, happily making her doll dance along the canal's edge.
Something caught in Beckyann's throat as the girl talked, memories lashing out in her mind. She sighed, a resigned look coming over her face, "Well then, why don't you have it hmm? I don't ever get cold."
The little girl stopped playing, eyes wide as she looked up at Beckyann, "Reeeeeeeally?! You really mean it! Oh thank you SO much!"
Beckyann nodded, handing the long cloak to the little girl and watching as she hugged it happily against her chest, showing it to her doll. She rose, turning to find the old man looking at her, surprise on his face. "T-thank you, miss. I...just thank you."
Beckyann nodded at him once, her tone soft, "I remember what it was like. Although you see me as I am now, I was once someone else, and that person remembers. Here...take this and buy her some shoes." She reached down and grabbed her coin purse, tossing it to the old man. He caught it, eyes wide.
Beckyann gave him a smile, reaching up to push her sunglasses back in place and hiding her expression as she turned to go, the delighted cries of the girl at play behind her escorting her away. A part of her felt lighter, felt good about what she'd done, even if it was hard for her to understand why she'd done it.
One thing was for certain though; if she was going to keep giving her coin purses away everytime she came to Stormwind, she was going to need a pay raise from Central at some point. Or perhaps pay of any sort would be nice!
Just as she was about to give up hope that this fourth and final stop on her trip would yield good results, her sunglass-hidden eyes alighted upon a rack on the far side of the shop, and she saw 'it'.
'It' was a long, regal purple cloak the likes of which she had been searching for over the past few weeks. Perfectly hued to match a long purple dress she'd recently acquired from a tomb, the golden threading along the edges of the cloak made it look rich and elegant even though it was on a clearance rack. Beckyann rushed over to the far side of the store, eagerly reaching out to pull it from the shelf.
"Can I help you with something, miss?" a kindly voice came from behind her.
Beckyann whirled around, cloak in hand as she thrust it and her coin purse at the shopkeeper, "Yes! YES! This! I want this! WHY AREN'T YOU TAKING MY MONEY RIGHT NOW?!"
Blinking in surprise, the shopkeeper took the cloak and coin purse from the overly excited woman and guided her to the counter where he collected the price of the cloak and gave her her change. Moments later an extremely happy Beckyann was walking down one of the canal's streets with two bags in her hands, entirely satisfied with the trip.
As she turned the corner, heading towards a more distant part of the city where she could open a Death Gate to return to the Ebon Hold, she spied a cart sitting alongside one of the canals. As she approached, details became apparent and she saw that the cart had an opened side that displayed a number of pots, pans, knives, and other simple household goods. An old man sat on a stool in front of the open cart, pushing a knife along a whetstone to sharpen it. Beside him a little brown-haired girl played along the edge of the canal with a ragdoll that had seen better days.
Beckyann was about to pass by when something made her pause and take a closer look. She stood in place, studying the old man and his daughter. His cart was typical of a tinkerer or pot-mender, the interior having a number of implements to perform simple repairs on household items and utensils. His clothes were threadbare, and his shoes had seen better days, his gray hair thinning atop his head and his skin looking weathered and worn from the years.
The little girl playing beside him was in no better condition, her dress having several tears in it and loose threading at the hem. What was worse, she wore no shoes, even though the year was getting later and the cooler weather had arrived in the evenings. She played happily enough, staying near her father as he worked and content with her doll that was missing one of its button eyes.
Memories tickled the back of Beckyann's mind as she watched the old man work. Everything about him reminded her of her own father, and the pair reminded her of her own lot in life when she was the girl's age. She recalled the crushing poverty that they had lived with in Corin's Crossing. She recalled the sound of her father's whetstone at work as he did little odds and ends for the townsfolk to scrape by, his little work shed and the area around it behind their shack a playground for the young Beckyann. She even recalled having to go an entire season without shoes one year when she'd outgrown her own and they simply couldn't afford to buy her any.
"Miss, can I help you with something?" the old man said, startling Beckyann out of her thoughts. She blinked once, realizing she'd been standing there too long and had attracted his attention.
"O-oh, no sir, no. I was just...remembering something," Beckyann replied.
He must have sensed her undead state by the faint echo in her voice. Although she tried to hide it, it was fairly obvious that she was not amongst the living and he blanched, setting down the knife he'd been working on and looking nervous, "S-sorry to disturb you, Miss. W-we don't really have anything y-you'd want..."
Beckyann blinked, feeling uncharacteristically guilty for alarming the old man. Realizing that her disguise had failed, she pushed her sunglasses up on her head so he could see her expression, offering him a kind smile, "Sir, it's really alright. I just paused because...well, you reminded me of my family, of people that are long gone now but that I still hold fond memories of."
The man relaxed slightly, still looking nervous but nodding as if he accepted what Beckyann had said. She let her gaze shift to the young girl that was playing by the edge of the canal, questioning the old man, "Do you not have shoes for her, sir? The winter is coming and it will be a cold one."
She could hear the sorrow in his tone as he replied, "Afraid not. We just...we don't have the coin. I'm lucky enough to feed her each day and I take that as a blessing from the Light as it is. Once things went bad in Westfall we came here, hoping to make a living, but it's been tough."
Beckyann considered this for a few moments, strange emotions warring within her as she remembered having no shoes in the snow. It hurt terribly to step on the ice when she had to go outside for any reason, and she nearly had frostbite many times as a child. It was suffering, as was poverty itself at times, and she knew well how it could shape a life. Something in her stirred, and she took a step towards the girl, kneeling down beside her and ignoring the concern on the old man's face.
"Hi!" the little girl said, looking up at Beckyann. "Ooooooh! You have pretty blue eyes!"
Beckyann smiled, nodding at the girl, "And you have pretty green ones. Mine used to be like yours as well. Is this your doll?"
The little girl nodded, beaming, "Yes! Her name is Sarah! Ohhhh, that is a pretty blanket you have!"
Beckyann tilted her head, seeing where the girl was pointing and understanding she meant the purple cloak that was sticking from the top of the bag. She reached down, removing it from the bag and holding it up before the little girl, "Do you really think so?"
"Oh yes! It looks so warm! You're lucky to have such a warm one for when its cold at night!" the little girl said, happily making her doll dance along the canal's edge.
Something caught in Beckyann's throat as the girl talked, memories lashing out in her mind. She sighed, a resigned look coming over her face, "Well then, why don't you have it hmm? I don't ever get cold."
The little girl stopped playing, eyes wide as she looked up at Beckyann, "Reeeeeeeally?! You really mean it! Oh thank you SO much!"
Beckyann nodded, handing the long cloak to the little girl and watching as she hugged it happily against her chest, showing it to her doll. She rose, turning to find the old man looking at her, surprise on his face. "T-thank you, miss. I...just thank you."
Beckyann nodded at him once, her tone soft, "I remember what it was like. Although you see me as I am now, I was once someone else, and that person remembers. Here...take this and buy her some shoes." She reached down and grabbed her coin purse, tossing it to the old man. He caught it, eyes wide.
Beckyann gave him a smile, reaching up to push her sunglasses back in place and hiding her expression as she turned to go, the delighted cries of the girl at play behind her escorting her away. A part of her felt lighter, felt good about what she'd done, even if it was hard for her to understand why she'd done it.
One thing was for certain though; if she was going to keep giving her coin purses away everytime she came to Stormwind, she was going to need a pay raise from Central at some point. Or perhaps pay of any sort would be nice!
Friday, September 27, 2013
Site Write Bonus- If You Could
Beckyann's flight took her out the long way in terms of returning to Acherus. She had been at a dig site close to Ironforge, looking in on her gnomish partners who were handling the work on the ground in setting up the camp. To return to the hold, she'd decided to fly in over the Western Plaguelands to scout out the patrols she'd assigned for the day's duty roster; easier to kill two birds with one stone as the old saying went!
As she passed over Andorhal, Beckyann noted something strange amongst the ruined buildings of the city. Although it was now in Forsaken hands and had the beginnings of a major Horde base sprouting up within it, there were still many skeletons of the original buildings scattered across the landscape. One of these, a grain silo, was flickering with a strange purple light. Curious, Beckyann directed her undead gryphon down towards the ground, ignoring its hisses of protests.
She landed near the structure, dismounting and drawing her runeblade, approaching cautiously. The source of the light, and the apparent cause of the weird visual distortions around the structure, appeared to be a small golden object laying in the dirt near the structure's base. Beckyann approached warily, checking for enemies before kneeling down to examine the object. It was a golden hourglass, the magic contained within it intense enough to make it hard even for a Death Knight to stare at directly. She hesitantly picked the object up, feeling its power pulse against her palm.
"You should take care with that," a voice suddenly cautioned her. Beckyann whirled, runeblade pointed instantly at the source of the sound, her eyes narrowing as she took in the form of a Sin'dorei standing a few feet away.
"And who are you to advise me such?" she demanded.
The blood elf frowned, shaking his head, "I am not what you think I am. I am of the Bronze Flight, and the object you hold in your hand is something I've been searching for these many weeks. My spells finally allowed me to part the wards around it so it would show itself, and now I find you here with it when it should be safely removed from this place."
Beckyann rolled her eyes, looking down at the little hourglass again, "And what is it that it is so important to the Bronze Flight? Why should I just trust your word?"
"Miss...that object is one of the anchors we use to travel between one place in time and another," the not-elf said cautiously. "It has great power, but can also be used for great folly. The past is not something to be toyed with, as altering it can change the future in ways we cannot imagine. Please give it to me."
"Change the past...?" Beckyann said, her eyes widening as she looked at the immensely powerful artifact in her hands. "I could...I could fix everything. I could undo the harm I've done, save the lives I took through my carelessness."
The elf nodded, solemn, "You could, but you cannot foresee what that would do to the future, miss. People are meant to die sometimes. Sometimes lives have a purpose, even if you cannot see it. Changing that to assuage your guilt will not help anything."
Beckyann looked at the elf, glaring, "You can't know that. You can't know that anything is meant to be!"
He shook his head, nodding, "No, you're right I can't. But I can show you what could be. See for yourself before you decide to use such a powerful object so recklessly. I will grant you the vision of but a single course that your fate could take amongst endless possibilities. Observe."
Before Beckyann could open her mouth to protest, the elf brought his hands up and spoke a word. Time seemed to freeze in place, and Beckyann had a glimpse of countless magical bubbles of possibility flowing all around her. One of them drew near to her, its silvery sheen glittering as it approached. As the bubble of other-space surrounded her, Beckyann found herself thrust into a different place in time and a possibility that might or might not come to pass.....
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She stood on a hill, looking at the distant flames that danced along the horizon as far as she could see with glowing blue eyes that had seen thousands of years of combat. Behind her sat a quiet village on a world so distant from the one she'd been born on that it was best not to contemplate how far fate had taken her. Through magic and the endless expanses of time, she'd fought for first the Alliance, and later the Army of Light against the never-ending threat of the Burning Legion. And now she found herself here, in a distant place that no one would remember, a place that the evils that lurked in the darkness would soon burn to ash.
"We should flee, General," a voice said behind her.
Beckyann didn't acknowledge it at first, merely staring at the approaching flames in the distance, spotting a shape in the distant smoke that must have been immense. She reached up to her cloak, caressing the pin that lay there, the rank insignia of a General of the 1113th, one that was once worn by her dear friend Redamous, gone for so many years now. There was a faint crackle of static, the comm system in the pin still active even though no voice had spoken across the line for countless centuries now.
She sighed, thinking back on it. Remembering where each one had fallen, remembering their faces, their names, the battles they had won and lost together. Forever engulfed in war, her soul had seen horrors the likes of which a person should never be forced to witness, had felt the pain of existing in undeath and the loss of the few people she cared about. She was so very tired now, and yet there were always more enemies to face, more threats to the innocent.
In the distance a roar rose up, reaching Beckyann and the few living men standing behind her even from miles away. The voice of a greater demon, one that lead this particular group of Burning Legion soldiers that would soon wash over this place where the Army of Light had failed to hold back the darkness. She could see the creature now, its immense form visible even from where they stood. It spelled certain doom for the survivors in the village behind her, for the men, women, and children that could not defend themselves. It was the end of all things for this world at least.
"General..?" one of the men said again as they all stared at the distant figure, knowing their doom approached.
In that moment, Beckyann realized she could go on no longer. Her soul had reached its limit, and the time had come. Voice firm, she never looked back at the men as she began to walk away from them, issuing her last command, "I will give you five minutes. Get the villagers to the portals and evacuate them. And good luck."
"But Ma'am..." one of the men started to protest, but Beckyann had already walked away, her footsteps steady now that she'd made up her mind.
She called out, and a speck appeared in the sky, her undead gryphon landing beside her. For once the creature did not hiss at her, did not try to bite her as if it sensed that something was different. She nodded at it, and it bowed its head so she could mount. She murmured to it as she took up the reins, guiding it into the sky, "This is the last time, and then you are free."
For such an important moment in her life, the trip was oddly short, the distance between the village and the edge of the fireline where the immense demon walked eaten up in only a few minutes. As she drew nearer, she could see that the creature was hundreds of feet tall, with a flaming blade in its hand that could crush the entirety of the settlement she'd just left. She knew in that moment that her decision was indeed final; there would be no victory in such a battle, no glory. She would die, and her estimate of five minutes might even be generous.
Even so, it had to be done. The innocents behind her deserved one last service. The lives that she had taken so long ago cried out for one last penance.
And so she directed her gryphon to fly towards the creature, bringing it far in the air above the demon. She had no idea even what it was, only that it was a general amongst its kind, leading thousands upon thousands of lesser demons behind it. She brought her gryphon to a halt, making it hover above her target.
"Farewell, and rest in peace," she murmured, patting the gryphon on the back. She released the spells binding it, and with a sigh its spirit departed, the bones falling away around her, making her plunge towards the massive creature below her.
Beckyann fell, her cloak flaring out behind her, her golden hair flapping in the winds of her passage as she held her runeblade steady above her, her eyes never far from the creature as she plunged towards her demise. She would strike one last time, make penance for what she'd done this one final moment, and then it would be over.
Beckyann would never see the change that came over her as she fell. She would never notice the way the stormy clouds of ash and soot that had covered the sky in the armageddon that was consuming the world seemed to part above her. She could feel the rays of sunlight as the slanted down from the heavens upon her, but she would never see or come to know what those witnessing her last battle would later tell.
The sunlight illuminated her in her fall, glittering on her silver armor and setting almost a halo above her head. As it shone down, her sacrifice was accepted, the Light finally touching her after the countless centuries of darkness. She would feel a burning sensation as she fell, assuming it to be the rage she felt at facing death finally, but those who saw her would know what it truly was.
Magnificent golden wings of Light spread from her back, trailing behind her and burning away her cloak as she fell. Golden Light played along her arms as they held her runeblade above her head, bathing her in a holy glow and running up her weapon, which sparkled with the power of the Light as it granted one gift to its lost daughter. As Beckyann fell, the pain began extreme, the burning sensation eating away at her as the Light roared to claim her.
Later, when all was said and done, many would report seeing an angel fall from the sky, sent by the Light to save them from the Burning Legion. They would tell a tale of the beam of sunlight intensifying, enough so that the massive demonic general would pause, looking up and flinching from its intensity. They would tell of that falling figure slashing out just a single time as it fell like a meteor, the slash glowing with Light so powerful that they had to look away.
They would tell the tale of seeing the creature's immense head separate from its body, of its corpse falling back and crushing hundreds of its minions and sending its armies into disarray and flight, buying the civilians all the time they needed to flee to safety and granting the Army of Light enough time to reinforce their positions, driving back the darkness.
Finally, when the men who had been overseeing the evacuation were able to advance on the position where the creature had fallen, they would report finding a set of armor etched to look like bones, filled with nothing but dust, with a sword buried in the soil beside it, the name 'Eastberg' carved on its hilt.
One man, a paladin, later reported that when he knelt beside the blade to examine it, he saw a ghostly green-eyed girl in a powder blue dress. In his memoirs he recounted seeing the ghost smile at him once, true happiness on her face before she faded away into nothing.
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Beckyann gasped, staggering back against the grain silo as the vision played out, her eyes wide with shock. She shook her head, staring down at the little magical artifact in her palm, denial in her voice, "No...t-that can't possibly be w-what happens to m-me.."
The elf looked at her, his face solemn, "It could be, or perhaps you will walk another path, but it is a possibility. You cannot know what you were meant to do until you do it. If you change your present, you change those possible futures. You could destroy yourself, or harm countless lives without realizing it. Think on it before you decide what to do next."
Beckyann stared down at the hourglass, understanding now how truly great and terrible the power she held in her hand could be. After a moment she nodded, her voice quiet, "I see now. No one should be allowed to tamper with such a thing. Fate is fate, and it must run its course. I have seen to my path for this long, so I will see it through to the end."
Before the elf could say anything, Beckyann dumped the object out of her palm and onto the ground. She stomped on it with one of her boots, smashing the immensely powerful but physically fragile object to bits beneath her tread. As it failed, she could feel the magic around her fading, and knew it would no longer tempt her.
The elf gave a groan of irritation, and Beckyann merely grinned and turned, walking away, "Have a good day, dragon."
Fate would decide the future, not magic.
As she passed over Andorhal, Beckyann noted something strange amongst the ruined buildings of the city. Although it was now in Forsaken hands and had the beginnings of a major Horde base sprouting up within it, there were still many skeletons of the original buildings scattered across the landscape. One of these, a grain silo, was flickering with a strange purple light. Curious, Beckyann directed her undead gryphon down towards the ground, ignoring its hisses of protests.
She landed near the structure, dismounting and drawing her runeblade, approaching cautiously. The source of the light, and the apparent cause of the weird visual distortions around the structure, appeared to be a small golden object laying in the dirt near the structure's base. Beckyann approached warily, checking for enemies before kneeling down to examine the object. It was a golden hourglass, the magic contained within it intense enough to make it hard even for a Death Knight to stare at directly. She hesitantly picked the object up, feeling its power pulse against her palm.
"You should take care with that," a voice suddenly cautioned her. Beckyann whirled, runeblade pointed instantly at the source of the sound, her eyes narrowing as she took in the form of a Sin'dorei standing a few feet away.
"And who are you to advise me such?" she demanded.
The blood elf frowned, shaking his head, "I am not what you think I am. I am of the Bronze Flight, and the object you hold in your hand is something I've been searching for these many weeks. My spells finally allowed me to part the wards around it so it would show itself, and now I find you here with it when it should be safely removed from this place."
Beckyann rolled her eyes, looking down at the little hourglass again, "And what is it that it is so important to the Bronze Flight? Why should I just trust your word?"
"Miss...that object is one of the anchors we use to travel between one place in time and another," the not-elf said cautiously. "It has great power, but can also be used for great folly. The past is not something to be toyed with, as altering it can change the future in ways we cannot imagine. Please give it to me."
"Change the past...?" Beckyann said, her eyes widening as she looked at the immensely powerful artifact in her hands. "I could...I could fix everything. I could undo the harm I've done, save the lives I took through my carelessness."
The elf nodded, solemn, "You could, but you cannot foresee what that would do to the future, miss. People are meant to die sometimes. Sometimes lives have a purpose, even if you cannot see it. Changing that to assuage your guilt will not help anything."
Beckyann looked at the elf, glaring, "You can't know that. You can't know that anything is meant to be!"
He shook his head, nodding, "No, you're right I can't. But I can show you what could be. See for yourself before you decide to use such a powerful object so recklessly. I will grant you the vision of but a single course that your fate could take amongst endless possibilities. Observe."
Before Beckyann could open her mouth to protest, the elf brought his hands up and spoke a word. Time seemed to freeze in place, and Beckyann had a glimpse of countless magical bubbles of possibility flowing all around her. One of them drew near to her, its silvery sheen glittering as it approached. As the bubble of other-space surrounded her, Beckyann found herself thrust into a different place in time and a possibility that might or might not come to pass.....
*************************
She stood on a hill, looking at the distant flames that danced along the horizon as far as she could see with glowing blue eyes that had seen thousands of years of combat. Behind her sat a quiet village on a world so distant from the one she'd been born on that it was best not to contemplate how far fate had taken her. Through magic and the endless expanses of time, she'd fought for first the Alliance, and later the Army of Light against the never-ending threat of the Burning Legion. And now she found herself here, in a distant place that no one would remember, a place that the evils that lurked in the darkness would soon burn to ash.
"We should flee, General," a voice said behind her.
Beckyann didn't acknowledge it at first, merely staring at the approaching flames in the distance, spotting a shape in the distant smoke that must have been immense. She reached up to her cloak, caressing the pin that lay there, the rank insignia of a General of the 1113th, one that was once worn by her dear friend Redamous, gone for so many years now. There was a faint crackle of static, the comm system in the pin still active even though no voice had spoken across the line for countless centuries now.
She sighed, thinking back on it. Remembering where each one had fallen, remembering their faces, their names, the battles they had won and lost together. Forever engulfed in war, her soul had seen horrors the likes of which a person should never be forced to witness, had felt the pain of existing in undeath and the loss of the few people she cared about. She was so very tired now, and yet there were always more enemies to face, more threats to the innocent.
In the distance a roar rose up, reaching Beckyann and the few living men standing behind her even from miles away. The voice of a greater demon, one that lead this particular group of Burning Legion soldiers that would soon wash over this place where the Army of Light had failed to hold back the darkness. She could see the creature now, its immense form visible even from where they stood. It spelled certain doom for the survivors in the village behind her, for the men, women, and children that could not defend themselves. It was the end of all things for this world at least.
"General..?" one of the men said again as they all stared at the distant figure, knowing their doom approached.
In that moment, Beckyann realized she could go on no longer. Her soul had reached its limit, and the time had come. Voice firm, she never looked back at the men as she began to walk away from them, issuing her last command, "I will give you five minutes. Get the villagers to the portals and evacuate them. And good luck."
"But Ma'am..." one of the men started to protest, but Beckyann had already walked away, her footsteps steady now that she'd made up her mind.
She called out, and a speck appeared in the sky, her undead gryphon landing beside her. For once the creature did not hiss at her, did not try to bite her as if it sensed that something was different. She nodded at it, and it bowed its head so she could mount. She murmured to it as she took up the reins, guiding it into the sky, "This is the last time, and then you are free."
For such an important moment in her life, the trip was oddly short, the distance between the village and the edge of the fireline where the immense demon walked eaten up in only a few minutes. As she drew nearer, she could see that the creature was hundreds of feet tall, with a flaming blade in its hand that could crush the entirety of the settlement she'd just left. She knew in that moment that her decision was indeed final; there would be no victory in such a battle, no glory. She would die, and her estimate of five minutes might even be generous.
Even so, it had to be done. The innocents behind her deserved one last service. The lives that she had taken so long ago cried out for one last penance.
And so she directed her gryphon to fly towards the creature, bringing it far in the air above the demon. She had no idea even what it was, only that it was a general amongst its kind, leading thousands upon thousands of lesser demons behind it. She brought her gryphon to a halt, making it hover above her target.
"Farewell, and rest in peace," she murmured, patting the gryphon on the back. She released the spells binding it, and with a sigh its spirit departed, the bones falling away around her, making her plunge towards the massive creature below her.
Beckyann fell, her cloak flaring out behind her, her golden hair flapping in the winds of her passage as she held her runeblade steady above her, her eyes never far from the creature as she plunged towards her demise. She would strike one last time, make penance for what she'd done this one final moment, and then it would be over.
Beckyann would never see the change that came over her as she fell. She would never notice the way the stormy clouds of ash and soot that had covered the sky in the armageddon that was consuming the world seemed to part above her. She could feel the rays of sunlight as the slanted down from the heavens upon her, but she would never see or come to know what those witnessing her last battle would later tell.
The sunlight illuminated her in her fall, glittering on her silver armor and setting almost a halo above her head. As it shone down, her sacrifice was accepted, the Light finally touching her after the countless centuries of darkness. She would feel a burning sensation as she fell, assuming it to be the rage she felt at facing death finally, but those who saw her would know what it truly was.
Magnificent golden wings of Light spread from her back, trailing behind her and burning away her cloak as she fell. Golden Light played along her arms as they held her runeblade above her head, bathing her in a holy glow and running up her weapon, which sparkled with the power of the Light as it granted one gift to its lost daughter. As Beckyann fell, the pain began extreme, the burning sensation eating away at her as the Light roared to claim her.
Later, when all was said and done, many would report seeing an angel fall from the sky, sent by the Light to save them from the Burning Legion. They would tell a tale of the beam of sunlight intensifying, enough so that the massive demonic general would pause, looking up and flinching from its intensity. They would tell of that falling figure slashing out just a single time as it fell like a meteor, the slash glowing with Light so powerful that they had to look away.
They would tell the tale of seeing the creature's immense head separate from its body, of its corpse falling back and crushing hundreds of its minions and sending its armies into disarray and flight, buying the civilians all the time they needed to flee to safety and granting the Army of Light enough time to reinforce their positions, driving back the darkness.
Finally, when the men who had been overseeing the evacuation were able to advance on the position where the creature had fallen, they would report finding a set of armor etched to look like bones, filled with nothing but dust, with a sword buried in the soil beside it, the name 'Eastberg' carved on its hilt.
One man, a paladin, later reported that when he knelt beside the blade to examine it, he saw a ghostly green-eyed girl in a powder blue dress. In his memoirs he recounted seeing the ghost smile at him once, true happiness on her face before she faded away into nothing.
***************************
Beckyann gasped, staggering back against the grain silo as the vision played out, her eyes wide with shock. She shook her head, staring down at the little magical artifact in her palm, denial in her voice, "No...t-that can't possibly be w-what happens to m-me.."
The elf looked at her, his face solemn, "It could be, or perhaps you will walk another path, but it is a possibility. You cannot know what you were meant to do until you do it. If you change your present, you change those possible futures. You could destroy yourself, or harm countless lives without realizing it. Think on it before you decide what to do next."
Beckyann stared down at the hourglass, understanding now how truly great and terrible the power she held in her hand could be. After a moment she nodded, her voice quiet, "I see now. No one should be allowed to tamper with such a thing. Fate is fate, and it must run its course. I have seen to my path for this long, so I will see it through to the end."
Before the elf could say anything, Beckyann dumped the object out of her palm and onto the ground. She stomped on it with one of her boots, smashing the immensely powerful but physically fragile object to bits beneath her tread. As it failed, she could feel the magic around her fading, and knew it would no longer tempt her.
The elf gave a groan of irritation, and Beckyann merely grinned and turned, walking away, "Have a good day, dragon."
Fate would decide the future, not magic.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Site Write Bonus- A Plan Goes Awry
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Sergeant?" the Death Knight Initiate asked.
Beckyann rolled her eyes, not bothering to look down at the Knight as she held the pail up over her head, "Of course it's a good idea! It's very important that when someone wrongs you, you put them in their place, wouldn't you say? Besides, this cannot possibly fail!"
The Knight she was addressing gave a long-suffering sigh, peering up at her and shaking his head. She was being held up by a second Knight who had the unenviable and awkward task of hoisting Beckyann by her hips such that she could reach the top of the doorframe that they were standing near.
The door was located deep in the heart of Acherus, near the smithy and leading to a workshop that was filled with a large variety of different mechanical devices in various states of completion, some of which were covered with tarps. Here and there strange mechanical noises could be heard throughout the shop or emanating from beneath the tarps. The Knight shook his head again, ducking to avoid one of Beckyann's swinging boots as she arched her back to reach the wooden frame she'd attached to the top of the door.
"I'm not sure, Sergeant. I really don't think this is going to work, and besides, isn't Private Taugrim going to be mad that you're in his workshop?" the Knight said, misgivings in his voice.The Knight holding Beckyann up said nothing, likely just wanting to get the entire endeavor over with as soon as possible.
Beckyann paused in place, carefully balancing the pail she'd been working with to shoot the Initiate a glare, "It's going to work! Now shut it. We had a deal here if you remember. You two got off of the next two duty shifts for helping me. Grab your end of the rope there and get ready. Once I balance this you'll need to attach it to the door handle, got it?"
The Knight sighed and nodded, taking up the end of the rope that Beckyann had indicated. He began to tug on it, nearly getting kicked in the head again as Beckyann almost lost her balance. Fortunately she wasn't in her armor, or it was likely either he or the other Knight would have been needing repairs before the entire thing was over. Ducking past where his partner was holding the Sergeant up, he began to tie the rope to the door handle, rolling his eyes at her impish giggling as she began to settle the pail into place.
Just as he had finished tying the rope to the door handle, disaster predictably struck. He began to step away from the door right as it was yanked opened from the other side, the rope he had just fastened pulling taut suddenly and neatly close-lining him across his forehead. He stumbled backwards, bumping into the Knight that was holding Beckyann aloft.
Not expecting the sudden movement, the second Knight stumbled sideways, also catching himself on the rope and then tripping over his comrade who had fallen over. With the clatter of metal plates striking metal plates the second Knight lost his balance and fell, releasing Beckyann's hips and thrusting her away from himself so as not to have her fall on top of him.
If Beckyann's screech as she sailed through the air with the pail still in her hands was somewhat comical, what happened next was downright astonishing. In mid-flight she tried to release the pail, knowing she was going to collide with one of the walls near the doorway. Unfortunately for her, the pail simply sailed out of her hands and collided with the stone wall just above where she herself hit it. Beckyann rebounded from the stones and landed on her rear, looking up in horror as the pail bounced with her and tipped over, pouring down over her head.
A gush of green necrotic ooze flowed out of the pail and onto her blonde head, completely dousing her with the sticky, diseased substance that she'd had collected from the ghoul pits. It flowed down over her head, soaking into her dress and running down her arms and legs before pooling on the floor around her. She blinked in shock, her mouth opened in surprise as she gasped over and over again, horrified at the fact that her clothing and hair had been ruined.
Her two companions in the scheme rose from the pile that they had fallen into to stand before her, looking down at her and trying their hardest not to laugh. In the doorway stood a dwarf Death Knight, not Private Taugrim, but instead just one of the residents of Acherus who had likely come on some errand or another. The dwarf blinked once at the goo-covered woman and then let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the workshop and setting the other two Knights to laughing at well.
"Lass, what in the fel are ye doin' eh?" the dwarf asked between fits of hysterical laughter.
Beckyann merely grunted, rising to her feet and angrily flicking goo and ooze off her arms and out of her eyes. Once she'd managed to clear them of diseased fluids she worked up her most scathing glare, which had absolutely no impact on the still-laughing Knights or the dwarf.
"Ooooo! He's going to pay for this eventually!" Beckyann shrieked before storming off down the hall, leaving little green, ooze covered footprints everytime her boots pressed down on the stones.
The laughter trailed after her for some time, echoing through the chambers of Acherus, the sound out of place in that dark hold of undeath.
Beckyann rolled her eyes, not bothering to look down at the Knight as she held the pail up over her head, "Of course it's a good idea! It's very important that when someone wrongs you, you put them in their place, wouldn't you say? Besides, this cannot possibly fail!"
The Knight she was addressing gave a long-suffering sigh, peering up at her and shaking his head. She was being held up by a second Knight who had the unenviable and awkward task of hoisting Beckyann by her hips such that she could reach the top of the doorframe that they were standing near.
The door was located deep in the heart of Acherus, near the smithy and leading to a workshop that was filled with a large variety of different mechanical devices in various states of completion, some of which were covered with tarps. Here and there strange mechanical noises could be heard throughout the shop or emanating from beneath the tarps. The Knight shook his head again, ducking to avoid one of Beckyann's swinging boots as she arched her back to reach the wooden frame she'd attached to the top of the door.
"I'm not sure, Sergeant. I really don't think this is going to work, and besides, isn't Private Taugrim going to be mad that you're in his workshop?" the Knight said, misgivings in his voice.The Knight holding Beckyann up said nothing, likely just wanting to get the entire endeavor over with as soon as possible.
Beckyann paused in place, carefully balancing the pail she'd been working with to shoot the Initiate a glare, "It's going to work! Now shut it. We had a deal here if you remember. You two got off of the next two duty shifts for helping me. Grab your end of the rope there and get ready. Once I balance this you'll need to attach it to the door handle, got it?"
The Knight sighed and nodded, taking up the end of the rope that Beckyann had indicated. He began to tug on it, nearly getting kicked in the head again as Beckyann almost lost her balance. Fortunately she wasn't in her armor, or it was likely either he or the other Knight would have been needing repairs before the entire thing was over. Ducking past where his partner was holding the Sergeant up, he began to tie the rope to the door handle, rolling his eyes at her impish giggling as she began to settle the pail into place.
Just as he had finished tying the rope to the door handle, disaster predictably struck. He began to step away from the door right as it was yanked opened from the other side, the rope he had just fastened pulling taut suddenly and neatly close-lining him across his forehead. He stumbled backwards, bumping into the Knight that was holding Beckyann aloft.
Not expecting the sudden movement, the second Knight stumbled sideways, also catching himself on the rope and then tripping over his comrade who had fallen over. With the clatter of metal plates striking metal plates the second Knight lost his balance and fell, releasing Beckyann's hips and thrusting her away from himself so as not to have her fall on top of him.
If Beckyann's screech as she sailed through the air with the pail still in her hands was somewhat comical, what happened next was downright astonishing. In mid-flight she tried to release the pail, knowing she was going to collide with one of the walls near the doorway. Unfortunately for her, the pail simply sailed out of her hands and collided with the stone wall just above where she herself hit it. Beckyann rebounded from the stones and landed on her rear, looking up in horror as the pail bounced with her and tipped over, pouring down over her head.
A gush of green necrotic ooze flowed out of the pail and onto her blonde head, completely dousing her with the sticky, diseased substance that she'd had collected from the ghoul pits. It flowed down over her head, soaking into her dress and running down her arms and legs before pooling on the floor around her. She blinked in shock, her mouth opened in surprise as she gasped over and over again, horrified at the fact that her clothing and hair had been ruined.
Her two companions in the scheme rose from the pile that they had fallen into to stand before her, looking down at her and trying their hardest not to laugh. In the doorway stood a dwarf Death Knight, not Private Taugrim, but instead just one of the residents of Acherus who had likely come on some errand or another. The dwarf blinked once at the goo-covered woman and then let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the workshop and setting the other two Knights to laughing at well.
"Lass, what in the fel are ye doin' eh?" the dwarf asked between fits of hysterical laughter.
Beckyann merely grunted, rising to her feet and angrily flicking goo and ooze off her arms and out of her eyes. Once she'd managed to clear them of diseased fluids she worked up her most scathing glare, which had absolutely no impact on the still-laughing Knights or the dwarf.
"Ooooo! He's going to pay for this eventually!" Beckyann shrieked before storming off down the hall, leaving little green, ooze covered footprints everytime her boots pressed down on the stones.
The laughter trailed after her for some time, echoing through the chambers of Acherus, the sound out of place in that dark hold of undeath.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Site Write 2, Entry 30- The Little Things
*Lordaeron, Woodbury Estate, Pre-Plague*
"This is it, I'm dying. Dying of plague," Beckyann moaned pitifully. The remark was immediately met with stifled laughter as she lay a hand on her own forehead and sighed.
"A bit dramatic, wouldn't you say, Miss Eastberg?" came the reply. Beckyann opened one bloodshot eye to stare accusingly at the woman who was speaking. She was in her mid-thirties and wore the uniform of one of the Woodbury Family's maids. A friend for some time now, Jenna had been tending to Beckyann while she was ill and confined to bed.
"I don't think so, I'm sure this is the end, my friend," Beckyann replied with an equal level of drama and woe in her voice, her sore throat making it difficult to speak.
"You should listen to your friend, Miss Eastberg," the second person in the room replied. He smiled at her as he slipped some vials from an open-topped bag, arranging them on the nightstand beside her bed. The Woodbury Estate's healer, Doctor Rosen had been overseeing several cases of the flu that had spread throughout the household. "After a few more days I'm sure you'll be fine. In fact, you already look to have regained some of your color. Take three spoonfuls of this three times a day for the next five days if you will."
"Ugh...but that stuff tastes awful...don't you have anything else? Maybe just some honey would do the trick?" Beckyann continued to complain.
This was met by more stifled laughter from Jenna and a disapproving frown from the Doctor. Beckyann steeled herself to receive a lecture on properly caring for herself but was spared the ordeal when a knock came on her door. The Doctor frowned at her and shook his head before beginning to pack up his bag while Jenna went to answer the door.
When Jenna cracked the door opened to see who it was, Beckyann heard Fred's familiar voice come through the space, "And how is the patient today?"
Doctor Rosen turned, scowling at the now fully opened door and Frederick as he picked up his bag, "It is quite unusual for the Captain of the Guard to visit ill patients, is it not?"
Frederick smiled, shaking his head, "Why not at all, Doctor. If there is a fearsome plague loose in the House I should know about it, shouldn't I? Threats to security and all of that."
The Doctor sighed, shaking his head, "I assure you that is not the case. If you wish to visit everyone who has contracted this season's flu, do so at your own risk, Captain. Good day to you."
Frederick stepped aside, letting the Doctor pass and shooting Jenna a quick wink before stepping into the room and closing the door. He walked over to Beckyann's bedside, smiling down at her. From behind his back he produced a bouquet of flowers, setting them on the nightstand beside her bed.
"And how are you, Becky?" he asked, his voice kind. "Feeling any better?"
"I feel awful, and I look worse," Beckyann complained, a pout on her lips.
Fred laughed, shaking his head and kneeling at the bedside. He smiled at her for a moment, reaching out to push some of her tangled and matted hair from her face. "Beckyann Eastberg, even when you're a disheveled mess and have been vomiting into a pail I still think you're the prettiest thing I've ever laid eyes on. Don't be silly now."
In the background the comment elicited an 'awwww' from Jenna as the maid continued her work cleaning up Beckyann's quarters. Beckyann smiled despite herself, her facade of self-pity fading as she looked into Fred's eyes. "Do you really mean that, or are you just trying to make me feel better?"
Fred smiled, rising to look down at her, his tone soft, "I both mean it and want you to feel better. We can't have the Woodbury Family's heirs roaming around without their tutor now can we? Besides, it's been almost a week and...well, I miss you Becky."
Beckyann smiled despite herself, ignoring the second 'awwww' coming from Jenna's direction. When she spoke her voice was stronger, and she'd stopped pretending to be sicker than she was, which was admittedly pretty sick still, "Well, I will try my best to get better for them then. We can't have them trying elementary spells without my oversight, you're right. Also, I've missed you too, Fred. A lot."
He grinned, nodding at her before leaning forward to give her a kiss on the forehead, completely ignoring the dangers of contracting the flu from her, "Well then, you work on getting better. Happily, there has been a fortunate circumstance that will aid you with this. It seems that the kitchen has decided that today would be the perfect day to cook up your favorite vegetable soup. It wasn't on the menu but it seems there's been a change after some persuasive words were dropped in the cook's ear. Strange, that."
Beckyann beamed happily as Fred turned to go, watching him as he nodded politely to Jenna and exited, pulling the door closed behind him. Sometimes it was the little things, the little signs of affection that made every day worthwhile, even when you felt terrible.
"This is it, I'm dying. Dying of plague," Beckyann moaned pitifully. The remark was immediately met with stifled laughter as she lay a hand on her own forehead and sighed.
"A bit dramatic, wouldn't you say, Miss Eastberg?" came the reply. Beckyann opened one bloodshot eye to stare accusingly at the woman who was speaking. She was in her mid-thirties and wore the uniform of one of the Woodbury Family's maids. A friend for some time now, Jenna had been tending to Beckyann while she was ill and confined to bed.
"I don't think so, I'm sure this is the end, my friend," Beckyann replied with an equal level of drama and woe in her voice, her sore throat making it difficult to speak.
"You should listen to your friend, Miss Eastberg," the second person in the room replied. He smiled at her as he slipped some vials from an open-topped bag, arranging them on the nightstand beside her bed. The Woodbury Estate's healer, Doctor Rosen had been overseeing several cases of the flu that had spread throughout the household. "After a few more days I'm sure you'll be fine. In fact, you already look to have regained some of your color. Take three spoonfuls of this three times a day for the next five days if you will."
"Ugh...but that stuff tastes awful...don't you have anything else? Maybe just some honey would do the trick?" Beckyann continued to complain.
This was met by more stifled laughter from Jenna and a disapproving frown from the Doctor. Beckyann steeled herself to receive a lecture on properly caring for herself but was spared the ordeal when a knock came on her door. The Doctor frowned at her and shook his head before beginning to pack up his bag while Jenna went to answer the door.
When Jenna cracked the door opened to see who it was, Beckyann heard Fred's familiar voice come through the space, "And how is the patient today?"
Doctor Rosen turned, scowling at the now fully opened door and Frederick as he picked up his bag, "It is quite unusual for the Captain of the Guard to visit ill patients, is it not?"
Frederick smiled, shaking his head, "Why not at all, Doctor. If there is a fearsome plague loose in the House I should know about it, shouldn't I? Threats to security and all of that."
The Doctor sighed, shaking his head, "I assure you that is not the case. If you wish to visit everyone who has contracted this season's flu, do so at your own risk, Captain. Good day to you."
Frederick stepped aside, letting the Doctor pass and shooting Jenna a quick wink before stepping into the room and closing the door. He walked over to Beckyann's bedside, smiling down at her. From behind his back he produced a bouquet of flowers, setting them on the nightstand beside her bed.
"And how are you, Becky?" he asked, his voice kind. "Feeling any better?"
"I feel awful, and I look worse," Beckyann complained, a pout on her lips.
Fred laughed, shaking his head and kneeling at the bedside. He smiled at her for a moment, reaching out to push some of her tangled and matted hair from her face. "Beckyann Eastberg, even when you're a disheveled mess and have been vomiting into a pail I still think you're the prettiest thing I've ever laid eyes on. Don't be silly now."
In the background the comment elicited an 'awwww' from Jenna as the maid continued her work cleaning up Beckyann's quarters. Beckyann smiled despite herself, her facade of self-pity fading as she looked into Fred's eyes. "Do you really mean that, or are you just trying to make me feel better?"
Fred smiled, rising to look down at her, his tone soft, "I both mean it and want you to feel better. We can't have the Woodbury Family's heirs roaming around without their tutor now can we? Besides, it's been almost a week and...well, I miss you Becky."
Beckyann smiled despite herself, ignoring the second 'awwww' coming from Jenna's direction. When she spoke her voice was stronger, and she'd stopped pretending to be sicker than she was, which was admittedly pretty sick still, "Well, I will try my best to get better for them then. We can't have them trying elementary spells without my oversight, you're right. Also, I've missed you too, Fred. A lot."
He grinned, nodding at her before leaning forward to give her a kiss on the forehead, completely ignoring the dangers of contracting the flu from her, "Well then, you work on getting better. Happily, there has been a fortunate circumstance that will aid you with this. It seems that the kitchen has decided that today would be the perfect day to cook up your favorite vegetable soup. It wasn't on the menu but it seems there's been a change after some persuasive words were dropped in the cook's ear. Strange, that."
Beckyann beamed happily as Fred turned to go, watching him as he nodded politely to Jenna and exited, pulling the door closed behind him. Sometimes it was the little things, the little signs of affection that made every day worthwhile, even when you felt terrible.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Site Write 2, Entry 29- Breaking the Rules
*Woodbury Estate, Lordaeron, Just Prior to the Plague Outbreak*
Beckyann sighed happily, blinking her eyes as she awakened from her slumber, snuggling deeper into the blankets and the warmth deep within them. As she moved, she felt Fred stir beside her, his arm coming around to embrace her, and she wiggled under the covers until she was pressed against him, her hand against his chest where she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
The hearth in her small room had died in the middle of the night, and the air was crisp with the chill of night, making the blankets the absolute perfect place to remain as far as Beckyann was concerned. She sighed again, simply feeling the moment of serenity and peace flow through her as Fred stirred beside her, leaning down to plant a kiss in her golden hair.
"I wish that every night could be like this," Beckyann murmured, hugging Fred close to her body, feeling his strength beneath the covers. "I hate that these moments are so fleeting."
"They don't have to be, Becky," he whispered to her. "We can find a way."
She shifted beneath the sheets, her green eyes peering up at him through the tangled mess of her hair, an eyebrow perked, "You really think so? You think that the Woodbury family will throw away centuries of tradition and authority so that two of their servants can wed? We're more likely to...I don't know, live forever than have that happen!"
He smiled at her, his expression reassuring, "You never know, I've been talking to the Old Man's uncle. He's pretty grateful for the work I and my men did in clearing those bandits off his estate last summer. A few words in the right ears could get the job done."
Beckyann brought a hand up, pressing a finger to Frederick's lips, "Hush, Fred. Don't get my hopes up. This has been torture not being able to be with you every day, every night. Don't make me think that the future will hold more for us than this. I'd give anything for it, and you know that. I'd leave here with you right now, and give up this position. You're the only one I would ever do that for."
He smiled at her, taking her hand in his own and kissing her fingertips, "Beckyann Eastberg, one day you'll be my wife. I promise you that. We'll find a way, even if the Light and the Shadow both conspire against it."
She held his gaze with her own, knowing that every word he spoke was true. He would never forsake what they had, and neither would she. Although she'd come to find prestige and power with a noble family, she'd found something far better in the time she'd been at the Woodbury Estate. True love came only rarely in life, and she was smart enough to see that. She wiggled up beneath the sheets, leaning forward to kiss him.
Unfortunately, at that moment, her bedroom door banged opened.
"Miss Eastberg! Are you in here? You'll be needed at once!" a voice boomed out. Beckyann and Frederick gasped in shock, quickly breaking apart. Fred jumped out of the bed, comically grabbing one of Beckyann's feather pillows to cover his nakedness. Beckyann herself rolled, wrapping sheets about her naked body before standing and awkwardly holding them against herself, her heart pounding in her chest.
It was Esmeralda Woodbury who had barged into the room at such an ungodly hour, a woman in her mid-seventies that some of the younger Woodbury family members referred to as 'that crazy old bat'. Already dressed in a formal gown that was several decades out of date despite it not possibly being later than four o'clock in the morning, the old woman waved her hands dramatically as she took in the sight of the two mostly naked lovers, her eyes trailing over Fred's muscular torso as a smirk played across her lips.
Beckyann could feel the blood rushing to her face as embarrassment set in. This was it. This was how her career at House Woodbury would come to an end. The old lady would be scandalized and would immediately report it to Lord Woodbury and she'd be thrown out by day's end. Fred would lose his place as Guard Captain and both of their lives would be ruined. An emotion surged through her as the sheer unfairness of the situation poured over her. With a look of determination on her face she stuck her chin up, shuffled across the room as best she was able while holding bedsheets around her naked body, and grabbed Fred's hand, holding it tightly as if defying the old Lady Esmeralda Woodbury to chastise them.
Another voice called down the hall, one that Beckyann could not make out clearly. Esmeralda turned her head, looking into the distance at someone and shaking her head, "No, I'm afraid she's not here right now. She must have gone out for an early morning walk."
Beckyann nearly gasped again as the old woman lied, her eyes wide. Lady Esmeralda Woodbury turned and looked at her, the smirk still on her face as she reached for the door handle, talking loudly over her shoulder, "Nope, no sign of her in here. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find her before six in the morning when we'll be inviting those traveling priests to a surprise breakfast. No, no, I'm sure we'll find her, do calm yourself Lady Woodbury!"
To Beckyann's everlasting surprise, old Lady Esmeralda winked at her before slamming the door closed, leaving the utterly embarrassed couple to quickly scramble to find clothes. It had been a close call, but their little tryst and breaking of the Woodbury Family's rules relating to their servants would be a safely held secret for a while longer.
Beckyann sighed happily, blinking her eyes as she awakened from her slumber, snuggling deeper into the blankets and the warmth deep within them. As she moved, she felt Fred stir beside her, his arm coming around to embrace her, and she wiggled under the covers until she was pressed against him, her hand against his chest where she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
The hearth in her small room had died in the middle of the night, and the air was crisp with the chill of night, making the blankets the absolute perfect place to remain as far as Beckyann was concerned. She sighed again, simply feeling the moment of serenity and peace flow through her as Fred stirred beside her, leaning down to plant a kiss in her golden hair.
"I wish that every night could be like this," Beckyann murmured, hugging Fred close to her body, feeling his strength beneath the covers. "I hate that these moments are so fleeting."
"They don't have to be, Becky," he whispered to her. "We can find a way."
She shifted beneath the sheets, her green eyes peering up at him through the tangled mess of her hair, an eyebrow perked, "You really think so? You think that the Woodbury family will throw away centuries of tradition and authority so that two of their servants can wed? We're more likely to...I don't know, live forever than have that happen!"
He smiled at her, his expression reassuring, "You never know, I've been talking to the Old Man's uncle. He's pretty grateful for the work I and my men did in clearing those bandits off his estate last summer. A few words in the right ears could get the job done."
Beckyann brought a hand up, pressing a finger to Frederick's lips, "Hush, Fred. Don't get my hopes up. This has been torture not being able to be with you every day, every night. Don't make me think that the future will hold more for us than this. I'd give anything for it, and you know that. I'd leave here with you right now, and give up this position. You're the only one I would ever do that for."
He smiled at her, taking her hand in his own and kissing her fingertips, "Beckyann Eastberg, one day you'll be my wife. I promise you that. We'll find a way, even if the Light and the Shadow both conspire against it."
She held his gaze with her own, knowing that every word he spoke was true. He would never forsake what they had, and neither would she. Although she'd come to find prestige and power with a noble family, she'd found something far better in the time she'd been at the Woodbury Estate. True love came only rarely in life, and she was smart enough to see that. She wiggled up beneath the sheets, leaning forward to kiss him.
Unfortunately, at that moment, her bedroom door banged opened.
"Miss Eastberg! Are you in here? You'll be needed at once!" a voice boomed out. Beckyann and Frederick gasped in shock, quickly breaking apart. Fred jumped out of the bed, comically grabbing one of Beckyann's feather pillows to cover his nakedness. Beckyann herself rolled, wrapping sheets about her naked body before standing and awkwardly holding them against herself, her heart pounding in her chest.
It was Esmeralda Woodbury who had barged into the room at such an ungodly hour, a woman in her mid-seventies that some of the younger Woodbury family members referred to as 'that crazy old bat'. Already dressed in a formal gown that was several decades out of date despite it not possibly being later than four o'clock in the morning, the old woman waved her hands dramatically as she took in the sight of the two mostly naked lovers, her eyes trailing over Fred's muscular torso as a smirk played across her lips.
Beckyann could feel the blood rushing to her face as embarrassment set in. This was it. This was how her career at House Woodbury would come to an end. The old lady would be scandalized and would immediately report it to Lord Woodbury and she'd be thrown out by day's end. Fred would lose his place as Guard Captain and both of their lives would be ruined. An emotion surged through her as the sheer unfairness of the situation poured over her. With a look of determination on her face she stuck her chin up, shuffled across the room as best she was able while holding bedsheets around her naked body, and grabbed Fred's hand, holding it tightly as if defying the old Lady Esmeralda Woodbury to chastise them.
Another voice called down the hall, one that Beckyann could not make out clearly. Esmeralda turned her head, looking into the distance at someone and shaking her head, "No, I'm afraid she's not here right now. She must have gone out for an early morning walk."
Beckyann nearly gasped again as the old woman lied, her eyes wide. Lady Esmeralda Woodbury turned and looked at her, the smirk still on her face as she reached for the door handle, talking loudly over her shoulder, "Nope, no sign of her in here. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find her before six in the morning when we'll be inviting those traveling priests to a surprise breakfast. No, no, I'm sure we'll find her, do calm yourself Lady Woodbury!"
To Beckyann's everlasting surprise, old Lady Esmeralda winked at her before slamming the door closed, leaving the utterly embarrassed couple to quickly scramble to find clothes. It had been a close call, but their little tryst and breaking of the Woodbury Family's rules relating to their servants would be a safely held secret for a while longer.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Site Write 2, Entry 28- There be Dragons!
Beckyann was having an absolutely
wonderful evening. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd
had so much fun! It had begun around dusk when she had attended
several open lectures being conducted by several prominent
archaeologists in Stormwind's keep. The focus of the lectures had
been on research techniques, recent discoveries and the implications
they had for future studies, and the categorization of the fossils of
ancient lizards and similar creatures.
To say that the subject matter had been
riveting for the amateur archaeologist was an understatement;
Beckyann had been thrilled the entire evening and her personal
journal had never been far from her hands as she took notes, asked
questions when able, and generally learned as much as she could on
the subject.
After the lectures a dinner party had
been arranged by the Explorer's League of Ironforge, with several of
their key members attending and the guests of the lectures allowed to
mingle amongst tables laden with a delicious buffet. Although the
food held no interest for Beckyann, merely being able to brush
shoulders with the key players of her field of study was exciting.
She'd dressed herself up specifically for the occasion, exchanging
her typical sunglasses with explorer's goggles and wearing a custom
tailored vest and newly purchased pants and knee-high boots to make
her look more the part of an explorer or adventurer.
As she mingled amongst the crowd, she
decided that her choice of attire was perfectly selected for the
evening; the dinner party boasted people of all races wearing
everything from battered travel hats and soiled, worn leathers to
dresses that were the height of fashion in Stormwind. Wherever one
turned there was either a famous personage surrounded by a crowd of
eager party guests or a cluster of budding young archaeologists
discussing recent finds and digs. Beckyann found herself wandering
from one group to the next, lingering here and there and gleaning
facts, gossip, and news about the latest theories in the field.
As she left one particular cluster of
her peers, Beckyann began to wander over to where a group was
gathered around a buffet table when a deep elven voice cut in over
her shoulder.
“How fascinating, that you would hide
yourself here. One could almost liken it to the way the rare treasure
can be found amongst the debris of ancient civilizations, although
whether or not comparing you to a 'treasure' is apt is certainly
debatable,” the voice said.
Beckyann turned, one brow perched above
her goggles as she studied the speaker. He was an elf dressed in
elaborate yellow and gold robes, tailored to look like those that
would be typical of a spellcaster. Blue eyes glowed softly beneath
golden brows and golden hair flowed from atop his head, artfully
arranged in what Beckyann could only assume was a style of
Quel'Thalas. She blinked once, realizing that she had stumbled upon a
Quel'dorei. But if that were the case, then why had he singled her
out amongst the crowd? It would be difficult to tell what she was
with so many bodies pressed in the room together.
“You wonder how I can tell?” the
elf said with a smirk, as if reading her thoughts. “The younger
races are always so immature with their abilities. The beating of a
heart is a telling fact; one that can be sensed if one has the senses
available to detect it.”
Beckyann frowned, her voice pitched low
enough that the elf would likely be unable to hear him in the crowd
so as to disguise its nature, “You claim to be able to hear it,
even in this noise? I find that highly unlikely.”
To Beckyann's surprise, the elf
responded as if he could hear her perfectly, his smile somewhat
mocking, “Of course I can, young lady. Or should I call you that?
Tell me, what purpose does one of your kind have in a place like
this?”
Beckyann shifted in place, frowning and
folding her hands across her chest, her journal held tightly in one
hand, “I wish to study and learn more about archaeology obviously.
Is that not the purpose of this gathering?”
The elf studied her shrewdly, as if
deciding whether or not he should accept that answer. After a time he
tilted his head, questions in his eyes, “But why? Why learn more?”
Beckyann could tell that there was more
weight to the question than the simple words that composed it. She
gave it some serious thought before framing her answer, “Because it
satisfies me to learn sometimes. Because finding something that
others have never seen before can still thrill me, thrill my mind.
Since you so obviously know what I am, know that such a thrill, such
a feeling is not something that is easily brought forth in me.
Besides, it also helps glean coin now and then. And there is art to
be uncovered as well.”
The elf considered this for some time,
finally nodding, “Fascinating. Thank you.”
He turned to walk away and Beckyann
halted him with a question of her own, “Wait! Why did you wish to
know that?”
The elf turned and looked at her again,
a smirk on his face, “To you it may seem an eternity, but ten
thousand years, give or take a few thousand, is just a blink of an
eye in the history of the world. The dead have not walked for so very
long, nor has there been a time before this when so many of them
roamed with such freedom of will. It is...fascinating to see what
they will do with that freedom. What they can rise to, or what horror
they will eventually become.”
Beckyann frowned, suspicions rising in
her mind the more she spoke with the elf. She shook her head, her
tone somewhat firm now as she responded, “You believe us something
to study or a passing anomaly, but we are here to stay. We are
something new, and not like those things that you lumped us in with.
Superior in every way, we are certainly capable of learning and
growing, even in this state. Dismiss us out of hand, and you will
find yourself surprised. Whether or not that surprise is pleasant
depends entirely on how you treat us.”
This time his stare held a hint of
danger to it, his eyes unblinking, almost seeming reptilian to
Beckyann. She stared right back at him, her hands now planted firmly
on her hips as she listened to his reply, “You should be careful
what you say, young lady. Schooling your elders can be looked down
upon you know. Some might even take offense.”
Beckyann's reply took the 'elf' by
surprise certainly, and she would remember with great satisfaction
the look on his face after she replied, “And you should take care
not to threaten things which have pushed beyond fear, beyond death.
Such words fall lightly on us, and simply urge us to act on our
impulses, which is never a good thing. Good evening to you, sir.”
He studied her for a moment longer, a
subtle smile playing across his lips, as if he'd enjoyed the banter
and the veiled threats, “And good evening to you, young lady. I
hope you learn much this evening.”
As he walked away, Beckyann's baleful
gaze burned beneath her goggles, locked on his back until the crowd
swallowed him up. In that moment, Beckyann decided that she
distinctly did not care for dragons one little bit, although she'd
deal with them if she had to.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Patrol Report 01587
Attention: General Redamous
Subject: Patrol Report 01587
Submitter: Sergeant Beckyann Eastberg
Personal Addendum:
Hey Red,
See below for my report on last evening's patrol. I figured I'd better file something in case Central wants to review our records. Put in a few recommendations there. If you have any questions let me know and I can update the final document.
~Becky
*There is a seal bearing a skull and crossbones below the signature with a little heart around it.*
Patrol Details:
A patrol beginning at 1930 hours and lasting until 2230 hours was launched with three primary objectives. These objectives included the following:
1) Projection of strength- The initial goal was to demonstrate that the 1113th could field a reasonable number of armed fighters to any conflict zone. I believe this objective was accomplished given the number of Knights included in the patrol, the armor-to-spiky bit ratio of their appearance, and the vast array of weapons that we carried on our persons. I suspect our heavily armed party was not ambushed simply due to the sheer ferocity of their appearance. Objective one is therefore considered achieved.
2) Inquiries relating to cultists- The secondary goal of the patrol was to inquire with local groups relating to the whereabouts or activities of the cultist known as Lewin and any who are involved in his organization. While no information was given that directly identified where he might be hiding, several reports did provide us with evidence of suspicious activity in Duskwood. In addition, we now have far more eyes on the lookout for this worgen than we would have without conducting the patrol. I judge this objective to be partially completed.
3) Morale building- The tertiary objective was to allow members, including both new and older recruits, to interact with one another and learn more of each other. I believe that this objective was fully achieved, and personally I learned much of our new recruits which was excellent. I have included a complete report of each patrol participant below for your review. It is my hope that our Knights will now fight together in a more unified group and trust one another in battle.
Additional Details:
There was some insight provided by the locals of Duskwood indicating that cultists have been seen in the areas around the central part of the region, between Raven Hill and Darkshire. Although these cultists might not be those whom we were seeking, it is important to note their presence in the event that we will need to conduct additional operations in the region. There was no sign of the cultists operating out of Stormwind although this should still be considered a possibility and something that I will follow up on in the future.
Inquiries in Elwynn Forest near the Westbrook Garrison provided no further insight into the cultist activity. I will add as an addendum here that our patrol encountered an unruly group of local students who likely had been allowed far too many sweets and had not settled in for the season's school year yet. I am pleased to report that although it was highly tempting, not a single Knight decapitated a single student. All Knights showed excellent restraint.
During the patrol the Knights were also instructed in proper formation drills and given notification of our Standing Orders. It is my hopes that with this information at hand they will survive inspection by Colonel Nis'tara, and I believe we will have an excellent survival rate for this newest batch of recruits. Possibly even as high as 50% or more!
Personnel Report:
Below please find my report on each member of the patrol and their contributions, in no particular order. I believe I've covered everyone but if I forgot anyone I'll include an addendum later.
Captain Domitrix- The Captain was an excellent addition to the patrol and I appreciated the fact that she allowed me to run the mission as I typically would without interfering or confusing the recruits with contradictory orders. She provided excellent rear guard support and spotted a potential ambush prior to its occurrence. On a personal note, I believe I have gravely offended her by mentioning her Ghoulish nature and if this is something that is considered a regimental secret or shameful then I suggest we issue orders not to discuss it. I'm sure she will recover, and if not, her quarters have been earmarked for reassignment.
Private Dalamora- The Watcher performed her duties admirably, although I suspect that if our fresh recruits taunt her much further they will have an unpleasant experience in the near future. She was particularly dour during the patrol, having reverted her hair color to a deep blue-black. She followed orders admirably, although in hindsight I wish I had assigned her to more of the diplomatic portions of the mission as she is better at speaking than fighting.
Corporal Reighton- The Corporal was less than satisfactory in terms of his diplomacy. In fact, had I allowed him full range of speech I suspect we would have multiple new enemies to deal with. He does not present a positive face for the Ebon Blade. I also noted that he seems unable to restrain himself from harming the natural surroundings around him, and I would earmark him for deployment into Kaldorei lands in the future. I believe this will resolve both issues nicely.
Private Geflimmer- The Private performed admirably this evening and I have earmarked her file as a Knight that will be particularly useful in scouting roles. Although I have some misgivings about knife-ears *this portion of the text is scratched out* about Kaldorei, she comported herself with the utmost professionalism and was a valuable asset to our team. I sensed a bit of hesitancy in her that I believe could be rectified by speaking with Colonel Nis'tara. I believe under the Colonel's wing this Knight will flourish amongst the ranks and eventually become a scout captain.
Private Amascut- As with Private Geflimmer, Private Amascut's file has been earmarked for potential as a scout. She was an excellent example of a perfect Knight and I do believe she will go far. Her ability to sense potential ambushes and operate in the wilderness are both pluses. I should also add as a personal note that she is from old Lordaeron, near where Sergeant Ceriseth once lived and this makes her a very reliable asset to our Legion in my personal opinion. I have also earmarked her file such that we can obtain her a skeletal gryphon once we've resolved the issues with the Central Supply Office. The poor dear should not have to run around on foot amongst the trees!
Private Kormag- Last but certainly not least was Private Kormag, whom performed quite well. This Knight seems reliable and handy in a battle. If even 5% of his tall tales are true I suspect he could take down many foes on his own. More importantly, he was a great asset to the unit's morale and I have earmarked his file as such. I would recommend that he not be assigned under Colonel Nis'tara as I suspect his humor may result in his untimely execution, which would be a shame given his incredible strength. On a side note, he enjoys using blunt weapons and would be best deployed against 'dry' undead in future combat missions.
Additional Comments:
I should note as a final addendum to this report that we encountered several groups, including the Nightwatch Militia in Duskwood, a group of druids lead by a worgen named Duskhowl in the same region, and a group of mixed irregulars called the Scarlet Ravens who seemed quite comfortable speaking with our men. We also encountered several local citizens of the Alliance who did not flee in terror at our approach and seemed genuinely interested in our operations.
I have made arrangements to have files made for the Alliance organizations encountered in the event that we wish to conduct future operations with them or need to question them again.
End Report
Subject: Patrol Report 01587
Submitter: Sergeant Beckyann Eastberg
Personal Addendum:
Hey Red,
See below for my report on last evening's patrol. I figured I'd better file something in case Central wants to review our records. Put in a few recommendations there. If you have any questions let me know and I can update the final document.
~Becky
*There is a seal bearing a skull and crossbones below the signature with a little heart around it.*
Patrol Details:
A patrol beginning at 1930 hours and lasting until 2230 hours was launched with three primary objectives. These objectives included the following:
1) Projection of strength- The initial goal was to demonstrate that the 1113th could field a reasonable number of armed fighters to any conflict zone. I believe this objective was accomplished given the number of Knights included in the patrol, the armor-to-spiky bit ratio of their appearance, and the vast array of weapons that we carried on our persons. I suspect our heavily armed party was not ambushed simply due to the sheer ferocity of their appearance. Objective one is therefore considered achieved.
2) Inquiries relating to cultists- The secondary goal of the patrol was to inquire with local groups relating to the whereabouts or activities of the cultist known as Lewin and any who are involved in his organization. While no information was given that directly identified where he might be hiding, several reports did provide us with evidence of suspicious activity in Duskwood. In addition, we now have far more eyes on the lookout for this worgen than we would have without conducting the patrol. I judge this objective to be partially completed.
3) Morale building- The tertiary objective was to allow members, including both new and older recruits, to interact with one another and learn more of each other. I believe that this objective was fully achieved, and personally I learned much of our new recruits which was excellent. I have included a complete report of each patrol participant below for your review. It is my hope that our Knights will now fight together in a more unified group and trust one another in battle.
Additional Details:
There was some insight provided by the locals of Duskwood indicating that cultists have been seen in the areas around the central part of the region, between Raven Hill and Darkshire. Although these cultists might not be those whom we were seeking, it is important to note their presence in the event that we will need to conduct additional operations in the region. There was no sign of the cultists operating out of Stormwind although this should still be considered a possibility and something that I will follow up on in the future.
Inquiries in Elwynn Forest near the Westbrook Garrison provided no further insight into the cultist activity. I will add as an addendum here that our patrol encountered an unruly group of local students who likely had been allowed far too many sweets and had not settled in for the season's school year yet. I am pleased to report that although it was highly tempting, not a single Knight decapitated a single student. All Knights showed excellent restraint.
During the patrol the Knights were also instructed in proper formation drills and given notification of our Standing Orders. It is my hopes that with this information at hand they will survive inspection by Colonel Nis'tara, and I believe we will have an excellent survival rate for this newest batch of recruits. Possibly even as high as 50% or more!
Personnel Report:
Below please find my report on each member of the patrol and their contributions, in no particular order. I believe I've covered everyone but if I forgot anyone I'll include an addendum later.
Captain Domitrix- The Captain was an excellent addition to the patrol and I appreciated the fact that she allowed me to run the mission as I typically would without interfering or confusing the recruits with contradictory orders. She provided excellent rear guard support and spotted a potential ambush prior to its occurrence. On a personal note, I believe I have gravely offended her by mentioning her Ghoulish nature and if this is something that is considered a regimental secret or shameful then I suggest we issue orders not to discuss it. I'm sure she will recover, and if not, her quarters have been earmarked for reassignment.
Private Dalamora- The Watcher performed her duties admirably, although I suspect that if our fresh recruits taunt her much further they will have an unpleasant experience in the near future. She was particularly dour during the patrol, having reverted her hair color to a deep blue-black. She followed orders admirably, although in hindsight I wish I had assigned her to more of the diplomatic portions of the mission as she is better at speaking than fighting.
Corporal Reighton- The Corporal was less than satisfactory in terms of his diplomacy. In fact, had I allowed him full range of speech I suspect we would have multiple new enemies to deal with. He does not present a positive face for the Ebon Blade. I also noted that he seems unable to restrain himself from harming the natural surroundings around him, and I would earmark him for deployment into Kaldorei lands in the future. I believe this will resolve both issues nicely.
Private Geflimmer- The Private performed admirably this evening and I have earmarked her file as a Knight that will be particularly useful in scouting roles. Although I have some misgivings about knife-ears *this portion of the text is scratched out* about Kaldorei, she comported herself with the utmost professionalism and was a valuable asset to our team. I sensed a bit of hesitancy in her that I believe could be rectified by speaking with Colonel Nis'tara. I believe under the Colonel's wing this Knight will flourish amongst the ranks and eventually become a scout captain.
Private Amascut- As with Private Geflimmer, Private Amascut's file has been earmarked for potential as a scout. She was an excellent example of a perfect Knight and I do believe she will go far. Her ability to sense potential ambushes and operate in the wilderness are both pluses. I should also add as a personal note that she is from old Lordaeron, near where Sergeant Ceriseth once lived and this makes her a very reliable asset to our Legion in my personal opinion. I have also earmarked her file such that we can obtain her a skeletal gryphon once we've resolved the issues with the Central Supply Office. The poor dear should not have to run around on foot amongst the trees!
Private Kormag- Last but certainly not least was Private Kormag, whom performed quite well. This Knight seems reliable and handy in a battle. If even 5% of his tall tales are true I suspect he could take down many foes on his own. More importantly, he was a great asset to the unit's morale and I have earmarked his file as such. I would recommend that he not be assigned under Colonel Nis'tara as I suspect his humor may result in his untimely execution, which would be a shame given his incredible strength. On a side note, he enjoys using blunt weapons and would be best deployed against 'dry' undead in future combat missions.
Additional Comments:
I should note as a final addendum to this report that we encountered several groups, including the Nightwatch Militia in Duskwood, a group of druids lead by a worgen named Duskhowl in the same region, and a group of mixed irregulars called the Scarlet Ravens who seemed quite comfortable speaking with our men. We also encountered several local citizens of the Alliance who did not flee in terror at our approach and seemed genuinely interested in our operations.
I have made arrangements to have files made for the Alliance organizations encountered in the event that we wish to conduct future operations with them or need to question them again.
End Report
Entry 27- So Totally Over This
Beckyann sat before her vanity, brushing her golden blonde hair with a brush made of polished animal bones. The bristles were specially designed not to tug and to give each motion a smooth flow through her hair so as to pull as few of the dead strands from her skull as possible. In this fashion she could style her hair without having to spend an excessive amount of time using necromancy to regenerate the strands.
She looked at herself in the mirror, admiring her reflection as the brush came down again and again, her baleful eyes glancing at the object she was using. Bones were everywhere in the Ebon Hold. They were used on armor, they decorated the banners of the various branches of the Knights that resided here, they even made up the personal effects of many of those who were quartered in the black fortress that floated gently above the plaguelands.
Beckyann herself was no exception to the general rule that bones were an excellent style choice for a Death Knight. One had only to glance at the armor she had stacked in a haphazard pile in the corner of her room to see that. The stylized bone emblems, the way her breastplate resembled a ribcage, and the skulls on her belt buckle all were typical to what members of the Ebon Blade wore.
Even in her personal attire she included a few things here and there that had the general bone motif included. Her hairpins were inscribed with death runes, which were, in themselves, little skulls that went up the dark saronite rods. She had little skull and cross-bone earrings that she often wore, little skulls on her rings, and of course her personal stationary always included paper with a little bone motif along the edge and a skull and cross-bone stamp that was her personal seal.
As she brushed her hair, she nodded at her reflection in the mirror, amused by the thought of it all. Yes, one could certainly say that Death Knights were no strangers to bones and skulls, and that one literally saw them everywhere they went in the Ebon Hold. Some of them were even real, honest-to-goodness bones that were laying around in the corners of unused rooms or to the sides of corridors where they'd been kicked.
Beckyann sighed, placing the bone handled brush down on the vanity's top and looking at herself critically in the mirror. She was getting ready for a trip out to Stormwind and wanted to look as good as possible so as not to draw the attention of the living. She smiled, ensuring that none of the ichor that made up her saliva was stuck to her bleached white teeth and ensuring that her black lipstick was perfect. Satisfied that all was in order, she reached down and picked up her new earrings, putting them in place before slipping a necklace over her head and centering it at the base of her throat.
In the mirror, a perfectly prepared Beckyann smiled back at her, hair all in order, teeth and makeup perfect, and a large black heart necklace made of onyx sitting at the hollow of her throat. She grinned, smiling as she rose and turned from the mirror to head out her door.
Bones were SO last season after all.
She looked at herself in the mirror, admiring her reflection as the brush came down again and again, her baleful eyes glancing at the object she was using. Bones were everywhere in the Ebon Hold. They were used on armor, they decorated the banners of the various branches of the Knights that resided here, they even made up the personal effects of many of those who were quartered in the black fortress that floated gently above the plaguelands.
Beckyann herself was no exception to the general rule that bones were an excellent style choice for a Death Knight. One had only to glance at the armor she had stacked in a haphazard pile in the corner of her room to see that. The stylized bone emblems, the way her breastplate resembled a ribcage, and the skulls on her belt buckle all were typical to what members of the Ebon Blade wore.
Even in her personal attire she included a few things here and there that had the general bone motif included. Her hairpins were inscribed with death runes, which were, in themselves, little skulls that went up the dark saronite rods. She had little skull and cross-bone earrings that she often wore, little skulls on her rings, and of course her personal stationary always included paper with a little bone motif along the edge and a skull and cross-bone stamp that was her personal seal.
As she brushed her hair, she nodded at her reflection in the mirror, amused by the thought of it all. Yes, one could certainly say that Death Knights were no strangers to bones and skulls, and that one literally saw them everywhere they went in the Ebon Hold. Some of them were even real, honest-to-goodness bones that were laying around in the corners of unused rooms or to the sides of corridors where they'd been kicked.
Beckyann sighed, placing the bone handled brush down on the vanity's top and looking at herself critically in the mirror. She was getting ready for a trip out to Stormwind and wanted to look as good as possible so as not to draw the attention of the living. She smiled, ensuring that none of the ichor that made up her saliva was stuck to her bleached white teeth and ensuring that her black lipstick was perfect. Satisfied that all was in order, she reached down and picked up her new earrings, putting them in place before slipping a necklace over her head and centering it at the base of her throat.
In the mirror, a perfectly prepared Beckyann smiled back at her, hair all in order, teeth and makeup perfect, and a large black heart necklace made of onyx sitting at the hollow of her throat. She grinned, smiling as she rose and turned from the mirror to head out her door.
Bones were SO last season after all.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Site Write 2, Entry 26- Going Forward
Beckyann's war-cry echoed over the
battlefield as her runeblade came down, neatly carving one of the
ghouls in front of her to pieces. Behind her, her Knights charged
into the fray, cutting down several of the undead and sending the
rest reeling back. Although it was only a small pack of rogue
Scourge, it was never good to let them wander through the Plaguelands
as they could gather in larger numbers if allowed the chance and
create bigger problems. That was the purpose of her foot patrols
after all; to put an end to such threats.
The battle did not last long, with the
last of the roaming undead being cut down near the base of a hill.
Beckyann flicked gore from the tip of her runeblade before sheathing
it, nodding to her other Knights. Just as she was about to turn away,
she noticed a figure sitting on the hilltop above her, his form
planted on a rock outcropping that capped the incline. From where she
was standing, the man appeared to be older and wearing a full suit of
plate armor. Although she could not see the colors he wore, the white
and gold trim of his tabard immediately suggested he was an Argent
Crusader, and the mace that leaned against his perch did seem to glow
with a faint light.
Beckyann signaled to her men to wait,
making her way up the hill and towards the figure. She approached
cautiously, seeing up close that he was indeed an Argent Crusader and
possibly sixty or sixty-five years of age. He stared off into the
distance, and she cleared her throat before speaking so as not to
startle him, “Sir, are you alright?”
Pale blue eyes that had seen many
seasons turned to examine her. After a moment of silence he spoke,
addressing her politely even if there was a tone of pure exhaustion
in his words, “Yes, Lady Knight, I am alright I suppose. The dead
have not troubled me yet, much to my woe.”
Beckyann tilted her head, peering at
him intently, “To your woe? You wished them to come upon you then?
For what purpose?”
The man gave her a sigh, shaking his
head sadly, “I have fought for many years, Lady Knight. I have seen
much sorrow in my life. My family was taken from me by the Scourge
long ago, my homeland destroyed. Why, my daughter would be about your
age I would guess, although it is hard to tell as you are now. To put
it simply without any eloquence, I am tired. I wish to rest now. For
too long have I stared down the darkness. It has finally defeated
me.”
The sentiment surprised Beckyann, and
she found herself at a loss of words for a moment. Although she had
had moments of sorrow and despair as the man obviously was having,
deep within her was a fiery will that refused to surrender. Those
rare times where she had actually felt she was on the brink she'd
always had friends there to breathe more flames onto that fire.
Slowly she shook her head, speaking softly, “The world will always
have darkness in it. You must look towards what it is that you create
and protect, rather than what threatens to crush it.”
He smiled at her, his eyes sad, “You
are kind to say such a thing, Lady Knight, but my time has come. I
can go on no longer, and so here I will sit until death comes to
claim me.”
Beckyann nodded, not knowing what else
to say. She had to report back to Acherus with her patrol, and could
not linger, “Very well, sir, I will leave you to your thoughts for
now. May I return here though and speak with you again?”
He smiled, nodding, “It is kind of
you to offer to stay with me in my final moments. Return when you
can, although not too distant in the future, as the time draws near.”
With that, Beckyann nodded and then
turned and walked away, heading back towards her patrol.
*****************************************
She returned the following morning,
alone this time and bearing a pack on her back. He heard her armor
jingling before he saw her, his eyes already affixed on her as her
golden head peeked up over the edge of the hill line where she was
walking. She offered him a smile and a nod before moving to sit
across from him on one of the other boulders.
“And so you've returned,” he said,
studying her. “You make me curious as to what you hope to
accomplish. Given my desires, an emissary of death itself is an
unusual companion in these moments, although perhaps fitting.”
Beckyann smiled at him, setting the
pack down beside her, “We all feel as you do from time to time. I
remember keenly the moments when I felt such emotions. Without others
to stand beside us, we can falter sometimes. Perhaps you simply need
an ear to listen, or lips to speak of things that you question.”
The man tilted his head, blinking at
what she'd said, “I see. Well then, Lady Knight, there is perhaps
one thing that you can answer for me. I have always wanted to know
this. My wife...my wife and my daughter, both are lost to me for all
these many years. Is there a hereafter? Will I see them again? My
faith in the Light is strong, but I find in my final hours that I
question my course, question my faith. Do you know what happens to us
when we die?”
Beckyann's eyes widened in surprise,
and when she answered him her voice was distant, as if she was not
really speaking to him, “I...remember some things. I know...I know
that there is a place that we go. That the Light calls to us when
we...when you pass. I think....maybe I was happy there? Maybe I was
with those who were lost to me.”
She paused for a moment, her baleful
eyes locking with his, “I was torn from that place, so my memories
are dim and fuzzy. I do know one thing however; the Light does not
simply call to us all. We must earn our place there, be it through
our words and deeds or by paying for those things in which we have
failed. If you wish to see them again, you will remember this lesson
well; surrendering to despair will get you to them no more quickly
than living out the rest of your days.”
There was a deep silence for several
minutes as the man considered her answer. He had little reason to
question what she'd said; she had been through the pain of death
after all. The pain on his face was plain for Beckyann to see as he
looked down, his old eyes misty. After a time he composed himself,
staring hard at her, “Have you come then to torment me, to make me
feel terrible before I pass?”
Beckyann smiled at him, shaking her
head. With one foot she scooted the pack she'd been carrying over to
him, “Actually I came to bring you fresh water and jerky, so that
you will not be hungry or thirsty as you sit your vigil. Perhaps I
can convince you to change your mind, or perhaps not, but at least
you can pass with your weapon in hand, facing the darkness one last
time. I would envy you such an ending, for that option was taken from
me long ago.”
He blinked in surprise, looking down at
the pack, “I....well...thank you, Lady Knight.”
Beckyann nodded, still smiling as she
rose, “Think nothing of it. And please do eat and drink; you have
no idea how difficult it is to come across fresh food and water in
the Ebon Hold. These things were not easy to obtain. I shall return
again, hopefully to give you one last insight.”
He said nothing as he watched her walk
away, pondering what had passed between them.
**************************************
She returned one final time as the sun
was setting, this time surprising him a little because she was not in
her plate armor. Off-duty now, she was wearing one of her black
dresses with tinted glasses to hide the glow of her eyes. She carried
a case in one hand as she approached, the object causing his eyebrow
to arch in curiosity. She smiled at him as she sat on the rock across
from him, noting that the pack she'd left had been opened and seeing
the half-empty water skin sitting beside him.
“Good evening, sir,” She said
politely. “I wonder if you would allow me one final argument
against the course you've chosen.”
He smiled at her, nodding, “Yes, Lady
Knight, I will hear you speak again. I will admit that your company
has been rather uplifting over the past day and a half. It is
difficult to face the end, and having someone beside you means much.
It has been years since anyone paid heed to me in such a way.”
Beckyann smiled at him, reaching to
pick up her case as she spoke, “Well, I actually wish to show you
something rather than simply speak. I wish to give you an example.
You see, when you look at me, you see a tragedy. You see a bit of the
darkness that you have fought against. I wish to show you that even
in the blackest night there are things that can be good, that can
move you forward with the promise that one day there will be a better
tomorrow.”
With that she opened the case, removing
her violin from it. She applied rosin powder to the bow and she took
the instrument up, smiling at the surprise on his face. She began to
play, her first song a dirge for the dead, the sound hauntingly
beautiful but incredibly sad as it flowed over the slowly darkening
Plaguelands around them. He watched as she played, and she could see
the emotions on his face as the song touched him. She concentrated,
knowing that this performance was one of the most important she'd
ever done, even if he was the only one there to hear it.
As the first song came to an end, she
began to play another song, this one a more lively tune. When set to
words, it had been about a mighty hero and was a folktale of old
Lordaeron. Anyone who had once lived in the lands around them would
be familiar with it, and she could see the corners of his mouth lift
into a smile as he recognized the tune. She could see his eyes take
on a distant look as he recalled the heroics of the main character
that the song told of, and she watched as his hand tapped the rhythm
of the song on his knee.
As that song came to a close,
Beckyann's final piece was one she'd strategically selected.
Heartrendingly familiar, she began to play Lordaeron's anthem with
her violin, the song surrounding two former citizens of that nation
and moving both. She could see the tears in his eyes as she played
it, and she continued on, resolute in her mission.
The anthem was a dangerous thing to
play in the Plaguelands at night. The dead remembered something of
what they were once, or at least an echo of it. The ghouls and
zombies that wandered through the twisted forests would be called by
such an aching reminder of their lives, something that they couldn't
touch and would want to stamp out to ease the pain. As she played,
Beckyann could feel some of them gathering around the edges of the
hill in the darkness, could feel their hatred bathing the two figures
on the rock outcroppings.
She continued to play, even as the dead
moved towards them, knowing that she had to finish for his sake,
knowing that she had to remind him of who they were and what they
could still accomplish. Lordaeron was dead, but the spirits that
drove her survivors was not, and even in undeath Beckyann felt her
emotions stirred by the song.
The undead came for them quickly,
launching themselves up the sides of the hill, claws extended as they
prepared to rend Beckyann to shreds to put a stop to the torment that
her song gave them. Even as the anthem came to an end, shadows leaped
at them, and she prepared herself for battle.
The first ghoul to land beside her
reached out to grab her violin and was met with a glowing white mace
to its face. Holy Light flared, illuminating the hilltop as the old
man took up a position over Beckyann, his weapon flashing again and
again. In the darkness, undead howled and perished under his skilled
blows, his faith guiding his hand and filling his heart once more.
When it was over, he stood over her,
looking down at her in surprise, his weapon still glowing and his
chest heaving to catch a breath and with the emotions that had
overtaken him. Around them lay the corpses of dozens of the undead,
their forms finally put to rest by his righteous fury. Beckyann
remained in her place, having never had to lift a finger to aid him,
not even a single stand of her golden hair out of place as she smiled
up at him. She spoke in a low voice as she began to put away her
violin, “And now you see that there is still heart within you, that
there is still something worth fighting for. In years to come, maybe
no one will remember this moment, maybe this particular battle will
not have counted for much, but you will look back on it and know that
it meant everything, that you stood for the spirit of what was, and
what can be again.”
As she rose with her violin case in
hand, the man saluted her and then dipped his head low, his voice
full of emotion, “Thank you, Lady Knight. For showing me that there
is still life left in these old bones. I will not forget you, or your
song. I will tell my wife and child of it one day, a day that will be
far from now when my time actually does come.”
She smiled, nodding and turning to walk
away, her tone happy, “May that be a distant point in the future
sir, Light bless you.”
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Site Write 2, Entry 25- Remember me Always
*Hearthglen, Present Day*
Like a drowning man, he struggled to thrash his way from the blackness that had seized him, the stuff of dreams and nightmares clinging to his consciousness as he opened his eyes, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He took a moment to lay in the dimness of the bedroom, breathing heavily and feeling sweat beading on his skin. After a few moments to calm himself, he pushed the blankets off gently and rose from the bed, making his way across the cool wooden floor of the house and taking care not to step on any of the squeaky boards that he'd come to know by heart.
The kitchen was brighter, the first rays of the sun peeking in as it rose along the treeline beyond Hearthglen. He yawned, standing before the window and staring for a few minutes, still trying to clear his mind of the terrible fear and sorrow that the dreams had brought on. Almost mechanically his hands worked, opening a tin of coffee and then taking some water from a basin and filling a pot, setting it to boil over the embers of last evening's hearth. In a few moments the water was hot enough to strain through the coffee rinds, the smell of it helping him to awaken and battle the last remnants of what had seized him in his dreams.
He paused, standing by the window again with the steaming mug of hot coffee in his hands, sipping from it, his mind in a faraway place. He noted how the sun's light touched on the leaves of the trees beyond the little house and the way that the colors had begun to shift with the changing of the seasons. Soon enough he knew that the trees would be crowned in glorious yellow, red, and orange leaves, the vibrant colors almost a celebration even as they heralded the coming of fall. When the seasons changed and the winter approached in the distance, the dreams always came to him. The cooler months always reminded him of her after all.
She always liked this time of year. I remember the excitement she would get when the first signs of the changing season began to appear. I remember the way she'd talk of pumpkin pie, and the harvest festivals, and the holidays that met the year's end.
He sighed, setting the mug down on the counter-top before him, trying unsuccessfully to banish the image. After dreams like the ones he'd just had, he knew that such a task was impossible, but it was something he had learned to live with. Even as he began to lose his battle with the feelings the memories brought, a pair of hands wrapped around his broad torso, a soft form pressing against his back and hugging him tightly.
He smiled, letting her hug him for a moment before turning in her arms to look at her. Deep brown eyes greeted him, the smile below them as bright as his own. Dark black hair that was very much different from the golden hair he'd just been thinking of crowned her head, the soft strands almost inviting his fingers to run through them. Just seeing her there helped to banish some of what he'd been feeling inside, and he sighed again, this time partially in relief.
Her expression changed and she gave him a knowing look, an entire conversation's worth of words passing between them in that moment. She knew what he was thinking of, and she said nothing, knowing he had to sort through it on his own. It wasn't wrong for his thoughts to wander to this after all, and sometimes healing could take a lifetime. Even so, she reached out and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, letting him know that she was there for him no matter what, telling him she understood. Sometimes when she was so supportive he wondered what he'd done to deserve such a loving and compassionate wife, and how she could be so understanding of the fact that he dreamed of another woman.
"I hope I didn't wake her," he said gently, concern in his tone.
"No, Amaliah is still sleeping," she said, reassuring him with a smile. "You know that baby could sleep through the next Cataclysm without stirring. A few little moans from you in the night won't wake her."
He smiled at her, admiring the way his wife Miranda always knew exactly how to talk to him to soothe his worries. The house they lived in was small, and the bassinet was in their room at least for the time being. He and some of the local men were working to add another room to the house, but it would be a few more weeks before the project was complete and they'd get a proper crib for the baby. He was grateful his night terrors hadn't awoken the child.
After a moment he nodded, sighing and relaxing again, turning to pick up his mug and take a sip, his eyes looking out the window and his thoughts distant. He felt her stir, felt her move to stand beside him, looking out the window. To his surprise she spoke again, broaching the topic that they normally never brought up.
"Did something remind you...of her I mean? Is that why you...?" her voice trailed off.
He thought about it, seeing the colors of the leaves outside and finally nodding, "I think it's just the time of year. It's getting close to when I met her...when...well, you know."
She remained silent for a few minutes, as if thinking of what to say. Finally she turned to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm, "It's okay, Fred. It's okay to think about it. It's only when you don't talk about it and keep it inside that it can hurt you. You know I will always be here for you, be here with you. I would never keep you from feeling this. I don't feel like I am less of a woman because of this. Do you understand?"
He smiled at her, patting her hand and then reaching out to embrace her, feeling her love flowing through him, "I know Mira, I know. I think that one day I won't think about it, that the changing season or the first winter snow won't bring it to mind. It's just hard, knowing she's...you know...like that...and out there. Especially after I had believed her gone. The memories are hard to banish, although I think they are softer now. They don't feel like knives anymore if that makes sense."
She smiled up at him, standing on her tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, "Frederick Lightstone, you always have such an amusing way of expressing things. I understand what you mean, and it's okay to feel this way. In a way, I think it's sweet and I like it that you still think of her sometimes."
He blinked down at her, his expression puzzled, "Sweet...? What do you mean?"
She grinned, tickling his sides a bit, "Well it just means that you will always care for me the same way. A man loves the way he loves, and you love me too. I know that you'll always think of me, no matter what we face together. You'll always be there for me."
He smiled, reaching out to hug his wife before looking towards the window. With her head buried in his chest, locked in the embrace, Miranda Lightstone would never see the haunted expression on Frederick's face as he watched the morning sun dance on the leaves outside.
She would never know how, in his mind, Beckyann Eastberg would forevermore be screaming for him to save her, or the guilt that he would bear for the rest of his life for turning away. She would never know just how often that nightmare would come to visit him, even if she drove the darkness of it from his heart with her every waking moment.
Like a drowning man, he struggled to thrash his way from the blackness that had seized him, the stuff of dreams and nightmares clinging to his consciousness as he opened his eyes, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He took a moment to lay in the dimness of the bedroom, breathing heavily and feeling sweat beading on his skin. After a few moments to calm himself, he pushed the blankets off gently and rose from the bed, making his way across the cool wooden floor of the house and taking care not to step on any of the squeaky boards that he'd come to know by heart.
The kitchen was brighter, the first rays of the sun peeking in as it rose along the treeline beyond Hearthglen. He yawned, standing before the window and staring for a few minutes, still trying to clear his mind of the terrible fear and sorrow that the dreams had brought on. Almost mechanically his hands worked, opening a tin of coffee and then taking some water from a basin and filling a pot, setting it to boil over the embers of last evening's hearth. In a few moments the water was hot enough to strain through the coffee rinds, the smell of it helping him to awaken and battle the last remnants of what had seized him in his dreams.
He paused, standing by the window again with the steaming mug of hot coffee in his hands, sipping from it, his mind in a faraway place. He noted how the sun's light touched on the leaves of the trees beyond the little house and the way that the colors had begun to shift with the changing of the seasons. Soon enough he knew that the trees would be crowned in glorious yellow, red, and orange leaves, the vibrant colors almost a celebration even as they heralded the coming of fall. When the seasons changed and the winter approached in the distance, the dreams always came to him. The cooler months always reminded him of her after all.
She always liked this time of year. I remember the excitement she would get when the first signs of the changing season began to appear. I remember the way she'd talk of pumpkin pie, and the harvest festivals, and the holidays that met the year's end.
He sighed, setting the mug down on the counter-top before him, trying unsuccessfully to banish the image. After dreams like the ones he'd just had, he knew that such a task was impossible, but it was something he had learned to live with. Even as he began to lose his battle with the feelings the memories brought, a pair of hands wrapped around his broad torso, a soft form pressing against his back and hugging him tightly.
He smiled, letting her hug him for a moment before turning in her arms to look at her. Deep brown eyes greeted him, the smile below them as bright as his own. Dark black hair that was very much different from the golden hair he'd just been thinking of crowned her head, the soft strands almost inviting his fingers to run through them. Just seeing her there helped to banish some of what he'd been feeling inside, and he sighed again, this time partially in relief.
Her expression changed and she gave him a knowing look, an entire conversation's worth of words passing between them in that moment. She knew what he was thinking of, and she said nothing, knowing he had to sort through it on his own. It wasn't wrong for his thoughts to wander to this after all, and sometimes healing could take a lifetime. Even so, she reached out and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, letting him know that she was there for him no matter what, telling him she understood. Sometimes when she was so supportive he wondered what he'd done to deserve such a loving and compassionate wife, and how she could be so understanding of the fact that he dreamed of another woman.
"I hope I didn't wake her," he said gently, concern in his tone.
"No, Amaliah is still sleeping," she said, reassuring him with a smile. "You know that baby could sleep through the next Cataclysm without stirring. A few little moans from you in the night won't wake her."
He smiled at her, admiring the way his wife Miranda always knew exactly how to talk to him to soothe his worries. The house they lived in was small, and the bassinet was in their room at least for the time being. He and some of the local men were working to add another room to the house, but it would be a few more weeks before the project was complete and they'd get a proper crib for the baby. He was grateful his night terrors hadn't awoken the child.
After a moment he nodded, sighing and relaxing again, turning to pick up his mug and take a sip, his eyes looking out the window and his thoughts distant. He felt her stir, felt her move to stand beside him, looking out the window. To his surprise she spoke again, broaching the topic that they normally never brought up.
"Did something remind you...of her I mean? Is that why you...?" her voice trailed off.
He thought about it, seeing the colors of the leaves outside and finally nodding, "I think it's just the time of year. It's getting close to when I met her...when...well, you know."
She remained silent for a few minutes, as if thinking of what to say. Finally she turned to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm, "It's okay, Fred. It's okay to think about it. It's only when you don't talk about it and keep it inside that it can hurt you. You know I will always be here for you, be here with you. I would never keep you from feeling this. I don't feel like I am less of a woman because of this. Do you understand?"
He smiled at her, patting her hand and then reaching out to embrace her, feeling her love flowing through him, "I know Mira, I know. I think that one day I won't think about it, that the changing season or the first winter snow won't bring it to mind. It's just hard, knowing she's...you know...like that...and out there. Especially after I had believed her gone. The memories are hard to banish, although I think they are softer now. They don't feel like knives anymore if that makes sense."
She smiled up at him, standing on her tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, "Frederick Lightstone, you always have such an amusing way of expressing things. I understand what you mean, and it's okay to feel this way. In a way, I think it's sweet and I like it that you still think of her sometimes."
He blinked down at her, his expression puzzled, "Sweet...? What do you mean?"
She grinned, tickling his sides a bit, "Well it just means that you will always care for me the same way. A man loves the way he loves, and you love me too. I know that you'll always think of me, no matter what we face together. You'll always be there for me."
He smiled, reaching out to hug his wife before looking towards the window. With her head buried in his chest, locked in the embrace, Miranda Lightstone would never see the haunted expression on Frederick's face as he watched the morning sun dance on the leaves outside.
She would never know how, in his mind, Beckyann Eastberg would forevermore be screaming for him to save her, or the guilt that he would bear for the rest of his life for turning away. She would never know just how often that nightmare would come to visit him, even if she drove the darkness of it from his heart with her every waking moment.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Site Write 2, Entry 24- The Heart of the Matter
Beckyann glanced to her right and sighed, rolling her eyes, "Please don't squeeze the heart."
The man standing beside her blanched, his face as pale as snow as he took a step back and dropped the stick he had been using to prod the corpse, "W-what...? T-that's the heart...? It's so small though..."
Beckyann nodded, looking away from the man so he couldn't see the judgmental expression that passed over her features. She tried to keep her tone neutral when she replied, "Yes, it's his heart, or at least the right half of it. It seems that it may have been damaged in the magical discharge that killed him, but either way we need as much of it intact as possible for the spell to work. Please keep back so that I can do my job, sir."
"Right. Of course. I wouldn't know a thing about this sort of work anyway," the man grumbled. His mere presence was irritating to Beckyann, and the tone of voice when he discussed the project they were working on further increased her distaste by the minute. It's not like she had asked to be dragged off her normal patrol route through Durotar to come assist the Kirin Tor. It wasn't her problem that they couldn't figure out what kind of spell the Dark Shaman had used to slaughter half the men who were stationed in the ruins of the encampment all around them.
The fact of the matter was, the Kirin Tor needed Beckyann and her men there because they couldn't get the answers they sought through normal means. No matter how much they might look down upon the magic that she commanded, none of them had any way to tear an unwilling spirit from the hereafter to question it, and that was what was called for in this situation. She knelt down beside the corpse, placing her hands on it as she tried to puzzle out the best way to perform the ritual. The corpse had been badly damaged when it had unleashed some final, suicidal spell before the orc had perished, and the trick would be to find a large enough piece of it to anchor the spirit to.
"Are you sure you're going to be able to do this?" the Kirin Tor mage asked, his shadow falling over her as he peered over her shoulder.
Beckyann rolled her eyes again, mentally forcing herself into a state of calm before she replied, "Yes sir, I have the skills necessary to perform the ritual. If you would please take a step back so I can finish, we'll have the answers you seek."
The man complied with her request, although only just barely. She grit her teeth and returned her attention to the corpse, placing both hands around its fire-blackened skull. The irritation she felt made her consider the course her life had taken; perhaps joining the Kirin Tor when she was younger had not been a good idea after all. It was the snooty, holier-than-thou attitude and confining rules and social constrictions that many of the Archmages displayed that had caused her to progress only so far amongst that esteemed organization. Although she'd ultimately found a good position and gained enough magic to call herself a mage at one point, she had not enjoyed the tutelage nor had she made any friends amongst the spellcasters. Those memories combined with the Kirin Tor's dim view on necromancy made working with them a difficult task indeed.
Satisfied that the man was standing sufficiently far away that he would not instantly die when she began her spell, Beckyann began to chant in the Language of Death, the words harsh and biting. Black magic began to swirl around her fingertips as she pierced the veil between the living world and the shadow world, seeking out the spirit of the fallen orc and forcibly yanking it back to its corpse. A cold wind blew around them and a howling shriek could be heard as the spirit was trapped, a blue glow surrounding the corpse and rising into the air, taking on the form of a ghostly orc.
"Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy....." the spirit moaned.
Beckyann stood up, rolling her eyes at it and then turning to look at the Kirin Tor mage, "There we go. We can ask it any questions we want, but we want to make sure that we don-"
The mage barged past Beckyann, nearly brushing her aside as he pointed an accusing finger at the orc, "You! You will demonstrate to me what spell you used to slay our men here at once! We will not have such dark magics being used on our forces and next time we'll be prepared."
Beckyann's eyes widened and she reached out to grab the mage as the spirit began laughing, magic swirling in the air around it. "You fool! You don't command a spirit like that to 'demonstrate' anything! What kind of moronic request was th-"
The spirit's eyes flared with fire as it glared at the mage and Death Knight. It pointed, beginning to chant. Beckyann recognized the beginnings of a spell and knew that she had only a second to either banish the creature or protect herself. She dragged the mage beside her into an awkward embrace and shouted, an anti-magic zone appearing around them as a deep purple bubble. The spirit's raging magic was unleashed less than a second later, the burst of flames searing the ground all around the bubble. For a moment, the two within could see nothing but fierce fire howling around their confining protective field before the spell died down.
With irritation in her voice Beckyann pointed at the spirit, freezing it in place with a a shouted command. She stepped forward, slashing it with her runeblade and cutting it in two. It howled as it was sucked into the weapon, runes along the flat of the blade glowing balefully as it was empowered. Beckyann whirled, glaring at the mage and jabbing a finger in his direction, "Next time you call in an expert to help you, how about you actually let them do their job eh? You think you're so much better at magic than everyone else, then do this yourself! I hope you got what you wanted, because I'm not summoning another of the dead if you're going to act like a complete...a complete imbecile when I do it!"
The man looked down sheepishly as he was chastised by the rather annoyed Death Knight. When she had finished, he shuffled his feet in the dirt like a scolded child and nodded, "S-sorry. I uh...yes well...I b-believe we've seen e-enough of the Shaman's magic to u-understand what happened here. F-fire wards will h-help against this. T-thank you very much..."
Beckyann rolled her eyes for the third time and turned, heading towards where she had left the rest of her squad, "Whatever."
"Yet again I see why the living and the dead should not mix," she thought to herself.
The man standing beside her blanched, his face as pale as snow as he took a step back and dropped the stick he had been using to prod the corpse, "W-what...? T-that's the heart...? It's so small though..."
Beckyann nodded, looking away from the man so he couldn't see the judgmental expression that passed over her features. She tried to keep her tone neutral when she replied, "Yes, it's his heart, or at least the right half of it. It seems that it may have been damaged in the magical discharge that killed him, but either way we need as much of it intact as possible for the spell to work. Please keep back so that I can do my job, sir."
"Right. Of course. I wouldn't know a thing about this sort of work anyway," the man grumbled. His mere presence was irritating to Beckyann, and the tone of voice when he discussed the project they were working on further increased her distaste by the minute. It's not like she had asked to be dragged off her normal patrol route through Durotar to come assist the Kirin Tor. It wasn't her problem that they couldn't figure out what kind of spell the Dark Shaman had used to slaughter half the men who were stationed in the ruins of the encampment all around them.
The fact of the matter was, the Kirin Tor needed Beckyann and her men there because they couldn't get the answers they sought through normal means. No matter how much they might look down upon the magic that she commanded, none of them had any way to tear an unwilling spirit from the hereafter to question it, and that was what was called for in this situation. She knelt down beside the corpse, placing her hands on it as she tried to puzzle out the best way to perform the ritual. The corpse had been badly damaged when it had unleashed some final, suicidal spell before the orc had perished, and the trick would be to find a large enough piece of it to anchor the spirit to.
"Are you sure you're going to be able to do this?" the Kirin Tor mage asked, his shadow falling over her as he peered over her shoulder.
Beckyann rolled her eyes again, mentally forcing herself into a state of calm before she replied, "Yes sir, I have the skills necessary to perform the ritual. If you would please take a step back so I can finish, we'll have the answers you seek."
The man complied with her request, although only just barely. She grit her teeth and returned her attention to the corpse, placing both hands around its fire-blackened skull. The irritation she felt made her consider the course her life had taken; perhaps joining the Kirin Tor when she was younger had not been a good idea after all. It was the snooty, holier-than-thou attitude and confining rules and social constrictions that many of the Archmages displayed that had caused her to progress only so far amongst that esteemed organization. Although she'd ultimately found a good position and gained enough magic to call herself a mage at one point, she had not enjoyed the tutelage nor had she made any friends amongst the spellcasters. Those memories combined with the Kirin Tor's dim view on necromancy made working with them a difficult task indeed.
Satisfied that the man was standing sufficiently far away that he would not instantly die when she began her spell, Beckyann began to chant in the Language of Death, the words harsh and biting. Black magic began to swirl around her fingertips as she pierced the veil between the living world and the shadow world, seeking out the spirit of the fallen orc and forcibly yanking it back to its corpse. A cold wind blew around them and a howling shriek could be heard as the spirit was trapped, a blue glow surrounding the corpse and rising into the air, taking on the form of a ghostly orc.
"Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy....." the spirit moaned.
Beckyann stood up, rolling her eyes at it and then turning to look at the Kirin Tor mage, "There we go. We can ask it any questions we want, but we want to make sure that we don-"
The mage barged past Beckyann, nearly brushing her aside as he pointed an accusing finger at the orc, "You! You will demonstrate to me what spell you used to slay our men here at once! We will not have such dark magics being used on our forces and next time we'll be prepared."
Beckyann's eyes widened and she reached out to grab the mage as the spirit began laughing, magic swirling in the air around it. "You fool! You don't command a spirit like that to 'demonstrate' anything! What kind of moronic request was th-"
The spirit's eyes flared with fire as it glared at the mage and Death Knight. It pointed, beginning to chant. Beckyann recognized the beginnings of a spell and knew that she had only a second to either banish the creature or protect herself. She dragged the mage beside her into an awkward embrace and shouted, an anti-magic zone appearing around them as a deep purple bubble. The spirit's raging magic was unleashed less than a second later, the burst of flames searing the ground all around the bubble. For a moment, the two within could see nothing but fierce fire howling around their confining protective field before the spell died down.
With irritation in her voice Beckyann pointed at the spirit, freezing it in place with a a shouted command. She stepped forward, slashing it with her runeblade and cutting it in two. It howled as it was sucked into the weapon, runes along the flat of the blade glowing balefully as it was empowered. Beckyann whirled, glaring at the mage and jabbing a finger in his direction, "Next time you call in an expert to help you, how about you actually let them do their job eh? You think you're so much better at magic than everyone else, then do this yourself! I hope you got what you wanted, because I'm not summoning another of the dead if you're going to act like a complete...a complete imbecile when I do it!"
The man looked down sheepishly as he was chastised by the rather annoyed Death Knight. When she had finished, he shuffled his feet in the dirt like a scolded child and nodded, "S-sorry. I uh...yes well...I b-believe we've seen e-enough of the Shaman's magic to u-understand what happened here. F-fire wards will h-help against this. T-thank you very much..."
Beckyann rolled her eyes for the third time and turned, heading towards where she had left the rest of her squad, "Whatever."
"Yet again I see why the living and the dead should not mix," she thought to herself.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Site Write 2, Entry 23- Another's Shoes..or Lack Thereof
Beckyann moaned, feeling entirely out of sorts as she regained consciousness. Everything was a hazy fog for a moment as she tried to recall what she'd been doing just before the current moment. It was difficult to recall, the feeling vague as if it had happened to someone else.
She knew that she and Red had been examining some sort of device, maybe goblin or gnomish in nature, that had been looted from a Kor'kron encampment. She couldn't remember exactly what the thing had looked like, but they'd theorized that maybe it had been used by the enemy to send spies in amongst the Alliance or perhaps amongst the rebel Horde. Beyond that her memory failed her. Had they managed to activate the device? Where was she exactly and why did her head ache like this when she shouldn't feel it at all?
She blinked, clearing the fog from her eyes and looking around. She wasn't in her own quarters, that was for sure. She sat behind a desk that had neat stacks of papers on it. Quite a lot of them. In fact, there were so many papers that she immediately felt pity on whoever had to process all of them. Looking around further and seeing little in the way of decorations and much in the way of cobwebs, she came to the conclusion that she was in Red's office, without Red. She brought her hands up to her head to lean on as she thought.
Only, her hands were giant claws. Also there was the little fact that her head seemed to be totally covered in hair, including her face. In absolute shock she put her hands on the desk before her, her mouth hanging open as she saw two large male worgen paws. What was going on...?
She rose from the desk, stumbling sideways as her balance was thrown off. She looked down and gasped in shock to see an armored male worgen's body. Not only that, but the armor looked suspiciously familiar. With dread growing in her heart, Beckyann reached up again to her head, this time touching where her hair should be rather than her face. As she almost knew would be the case, her hands came back down with a battered old hat, a hat that was as familiar to her as the inside of Acherus. She could still see the black marks where her tears had stained it once.
"Having problems, dear?" a voice said. Beckyann whirled, eyes wide as she saw the outline of a ghostly woman sitting on the edge of the desk, a smirk on her face. "I know that's not you, just so you know. I know when his spirit isn't there. We're connected."
"H-how...b-but....w-what...?" Beckyann sputtered, her eyes opening even wider as she heard a guttural worgen voice come out of her mouth. She stood silently, blinking at the ghost of Red's wife in shock.
She laughed, shaking her head, "Playing with magic that you don't understand I would guess. It's a good thing you're not really my daughter. You'd be a willful and naughty child if you were."
Beckyann simply shook her head, backpedaling away from the ghostly woman and turning towards the door, opening it clumsily before dashing out into the hall, ghostly laughter following after her with a final thought thrown in, "I can't imagine how bad his day must be going!"
************************
She ran down the hall towards her quarters, ignoring the startled looks of Knights on duty who were not used to seeing the General dashing through the corridors. As she approached the door, Beckyann put her hand out and slapped it against the wards she used to keep her rooms secure.
The second her paw hit the warded door the wards triggered, dark necromantic energies flowing through the mark and into her hand. The spell triggered, hurling her backwards with a blast as the ward failed to recognize the hand pressed against it. Beckyann hit the far wall of the corridor hard, sliding down the stone wall with the scent of burnt fur in her nose. The fact that she was able to smell was a mere curiosity compared to the burning ache in her hand.
As she lay on the floor, two shadows fell over her. She looked up to see two geists looking down at her. She blinked once, one furry eyebrow raised in question.
"WHY ARE YOU LAYING ON THE FLOOR?!" the first geist yelled directly in her face.
"GETTING LAZY NOW, WOULDN'T YOU SAY?!" the second one added.
"W-well you see I..." Beckyann began. She was immediately cut off.
"THAT'S A STUPID REASON! YOU SURE YOU DON'T WANT TO RECONSIDER?" the first one yelled.
"IS THE FLOOR BETTER TO LAY DOWN ON THAN YOUR DESK CHAIR? OR DO YOU MAYBE NEED LIKE A DOGGY BED OR SOMETHING? IT'S HARD TO SEE YOU IN THE DARK! SOMEONE COULD STEP ON YOU!" the second one added.
Beckyann groaned, rolling over and getting to her feet slowly, "N-no, I'm not laying on the floor. Light why are you two yelling everything?! Just go away!"
"OKAY! BUT TRY NOT TO LAY ON THE FLOOR ANYMORE! PEOPLE ARE WALKING HERE!" the first one yelled merrily. The second one nodded, nearly bumping into Beckyann as it followed the first one. She rolled her eyes, turning the other way and walking towards the observation deck.
Once there, she chanted the spell to summon her gryphon, waiting for the creature to land. She'd wanted to get into her quarters to look in a mirror, but the reflection from water would have to do. She wasn't about to search Red's desk for a mirror, not that she expected him to have one anyway. In the sky a speck appeared as her undead mount descended. She watched impatiently as it landed, her arms folded across her broad chest.
The undead gryphon landed before her, and rather than hiss at her and attempt to bite her, it dipped its head obediently. Beckyann's ire shot up about three more points as she realized the creature was being respectful to Red when it was aggressive towards her. She snarled at it, startled to hear an honest-to-goodness actual snarl come from her mouth. Shocked, she backpedaled away, shaking her head and fleeing from the rather confused looking undead creature.
Ignoring the startled looks of the Knights on duty, Beckyann dashed back down the corridors, admiring the fact that she could run much faster in a worgen body than her own. She shook the thought away, refusing to get used to the entire situation as she re-entered Red's office and slammed the door closed. She pointedly ignored Nicole as the ghost sat demurely on the edge of the desk, smirking at her.
She sat down at the desk, resting her head in her hands. The moment of peaceful contemplation of the situation lasted exactly one minute before the door opened and a Knight came in with a stack of paperwork. He looked at Red and nodded, placing the paperwork in the bin labeled 'in'.
"Here you go sir, more requisitions," the Knight said.
Beckyann rolled her eyes, feeling waspish, "Am I supposed to say thank you or something?"
The Knight tilted his head, looking at Beckyann with curiosity, "Sir? Is that a question you wish me to answer?"
"I don't know! And why are you looking at me like that?" she snapped.
"Oh, well I just think it's great what you've done, sir," the Knight replied.
"D-done...?" she replied.
"Well, yes. You've managed to finally get rid of that terrible accent you had. I mean really, it wasn't very 'general' like if you ask me," the Knight replied.
"I didn't ask you actually," Beckyann snapped. She could feel a temper tantrum coming on and knew she couldn't give in to it in Red's body. It would be bad for his image as a commander. As long as she avoided looking at the ghostly Nicole who was outright laughing at her now she thought she'd be able to hold it together.
"Is there anything else you need, sir?" the Knight said, frowning. "You seem a little...out of sorts today."
Beckyann was about to snap at him a second time when she managed to pause and rein in her temper, "Yes actually, there are a few things I need."
With that she took out a fresh sheet of paper and a quill and jotted down a few things, handing it to the Knight. He looked at it, his facial expression priceless as he read over her requests. "This...is a bit unusual, sir. You want all of this brought here...?"
"Yes. All of it. Now," she replied, nodding.
Shrugging and giving her a 'I think you're crazy' look, the Knight turned and left the room. Nicole watched Beckyann suspiciously as she sat there smiling to herself, awaiting his return.
*************************
Thirty minutes later Beckyann was admiring herself in the mirror, noting the way Red's freshly washed fur looked much better now that it had been shampooed. The wet dog smell was unfortunate of course, but it would fade once she put the scented oils on to mask it. She had no idea how he managed to walk around without taking care of such simple maintenance for himself, but she'd be damned if she had to spend more hours in a corpse that was not in its prime condition.
After a moment, she studied the reflection in the mirror, attempting to focus as hard as she could. Although her body shook, she was unable to force the corpse to take on Red's human form, try as she might. After a while she shrugged, figuring there was some trick to it that she didn't know about. It was a shame because she was quite curious about what he'd looked like in life.
"Oh well," she murmured, setting the mirror down. She could already feel the magic of the device they'd triggered starting to fade, and she nodded a goodbye at Nicole.
As consciousness began to slip from her a second time, Beckyann swore that if Red had messed up her quarters he was a dead worgen. She also swore that she'd never do his job or wish to be in his shoes ever, for as long as her undead state lasted.
She knew that she and Red had been examining some sort of device, maybe goblin or gnomish in nature, that had been looted from a Kor'kron encampment. She couldn't remember exactly what the thing had looked like, but they'd theorized that maybe it had been used by the enemy to send spies in amongst the Alliance or perhaps amongst the rebel Horde. Beyond that her memory failed her. Had they managed to activate the device? Where was she exactly and why did her head ache like this when she shouldn't feel it at all?
She blinked, clearing the fog from her eyes and looking around. She wasn't in her own quarters, that was for sure. She sat behind a desk that had neat stacks of papers on it. Quite a lot of them. In fact, there were so many papers that she immediately felt pity on whoever had to process all of them. Looking around further and seeing little in the way of decorations and much in the way of cobwebs, she came to the conclusion that she was in Red's office, without Red. She brought her hands up to her head to lean on as she thought.
Only, her hands were giant claws. Also there was the little fact that her head seemed to be totally covered in hair, including her face. In absolute shock she put her hands on the desk before her, her mouth hanging open as she saw two large male worgen paws. What was going on...?
She rose from the desk, stumbling sideways as her balance was thrown off. She looked down and gasped in shock to see an armored male worgen's body. Not only that, but the armor looked suspiciously familiar. With dread growing in her heart, Beckyann reached up again to her head, this time touching where her hair should be rather than her face. As she almost knew would be the case, her hands came back down with a battered old hat, a hat that was as familiar to her as the inside of Acherus. She could still see the black marks where her tears had stained it once.
"Having problems, dear?" a voice said. Beckyann whirled, eyes wide as she saw the outline of a ghostly woman sitting on the edge of the desk, a smirk on her face. "I know that's not you, just so you know. I know when his spirit isn't there. We're connected."
"H-how...b-but....w-what...?" Beckyann sputtered, her eyes opening even wider as she heard a guttural worgen voice come out of her mouth. She stood silently, blinking at the ghost of Red's wife in shock.
She laughed, shaking her head, "Playing with magic that you don't understand I would guess. It's a good thing you're not really my daughter. You'd be a willful and naughty child if you were."
Beckyann simply shook her head, backpedaling away from the ghostly woman and turning towards the door, opening it clumsily before dashing out into the hall, ghostly laughter following after her with a final thought thrown in, "I can't imagine how bad his day must be going!"
************************
She ran down the hall towards her quarters, ignoring the startled looks of Knights on duty who were not used to seeing the General dashing through the corridors. As she approached the door, Beckyann put her hand out and slapped it against the wards she used to keep her rooms secure.
The second her paw hit the warded door the wards triggered, dark necromantic energies flowing through the mark and into her hand. The spell triggered, hurling her backwards with a blast as the ward failed to recognize the hand pressed against it. Beckyann hit the far wall of the corridor hard, sliding down the stone wall with the scent of burnt fur in her nose. The fact that she was able to smell was a mere curiosity compared to the burning ache in her hand.
As she lay on the floor, two shadows fell over her. She looked up to see two geists looking down at her. She blinked once, one furry eyebrow raised in question.
"WHY ARE YOU LAYING ON THE FLOOR?!" the first geist yelled directly in her face.
"GETTING LAZY NOW, WOULDN'T YOU SAY?!" the second one added.
"W-well you see I..." Beckyann began. She was immediately cut off.
"THAT'S A STUPID REASON! YOU SURE YOU DON'T WANT TO RECONSIDER?" the first one yelled.
"IS THE FLOOR BETTER TO LAY DOWN ON THAN YOUR DESK CHAIR? OR DO YOU MAYBE NEED LIKE A DOGGY BED OR SOMETHING? IT'S HARD TO SEE YOU IN THE DARK! SOMEONE COULD STEP ON YOU!" the second one added.
Beckyann groaned, rolling over and getting to her feet slowly, "N-no, I'm not laying on the floor. Light why are you two yelling everything?! Just go away!"
"OKAY! BUT TRY NOT TO LAY ON THE FLOOR ANYMORE! PEOPLE ARE WALKING HERE!" the first one yelled merrily. The second one nodded, nearly bumping into Beckyann as it followed the first one. She rolled her eyes, turning the other way and walking towards the observation deck.
Once there, she chanted the spell to summon her gryphon, waiting for the creature to land. She'd wanted to get into her quarters to look in a mirror, but the reflection from water would have to do. She wasn't about to search Red's desk for a mirror, not that she expected him to have one anyway. In the sky a speck appeared as her undead mount descended. She watched impatiently as it landed, her arms folded across her broad chest.
The undead gryphon landed before her, and rather than hiss at her and attempt to bite her, it dipped its head obediently. Beckyann's ire shot up about three more points as she realized the creature was being respectful to Red when it was aggressive towards her. She snarled at it, startled to hear an honest-to-goodness actual snarl come from her mouth. Shocked, she backpedaled away, shaking her head and fleeing from the rather confused looking undead creature.
Ignoring the startled looks of the Knights on duty, Beckyann dashed back down the corridors, admiring the fact that she could run much faster in a worgen body than her own. She shook the thought away, refusing to get used to the entire situation as she re-entered Red's office and slammed the door closed. She pointedly ignored Nicole as the ghost sat demurely on the edge of the desk, smirking at her.
She sat down at the desk, resting her head in her hands. The moment of peaceful contemplation of the situation lasted exactly one minute before the door opened and a Knight came in with a stack of paperwork. He looked at Red and nodded, placing the paperwork in the bin labeled 'in'.
"Here you go sir, more requisitions," the Knight said.
Beckyann rolled her eyes, feeling waspish, "Am I supposed to say thank you or something?"
The Knight tilted his head, looking at Beckyann with curiosity, "Sir? Is that a question you wish me to answer?"
"I don't know! And why are you looking at me like that?" she snapped.
"Oh, well I just think it's great what you've done, sir," the Knight replied.
"D-done...?" she replied.
"Well, yes. You've managed to finally get rid of that terrible accent you had. I mean really, it wasn't very 'general' like if you ask me," the Knight replied.
"I didn't ask you actually," Beckyann snapped. She could feel a temper tantrum coming on and knew she couldn't give in to it in Red's body. It would be bad for his image as a commander. As long as she avoided looking at the ghostly Nicole who was outright laughing at her now she thought she'd be able to hold it together.
"Is there anything else you need, sir?" the Knight said, frowning. "You seem a little...out of sorts today."
Beckyann was about to snap at him a second time when she managed to pause and rein in her temper, "Yes actually, there are a few things I need."
With that she took out a fresh sheet of paper and a quill and jotted down a few things, handing it to the Knight. He looked at it, his facial expression priceless as he read over her requests. "This...is a bit unusual, sir. You want all of this brought here...?"
"Yes. All of it. Now," she replied, nodding.
Shrugging and giving her a 'I think you're crazy' look, the Knight turned and left the room. Nicole watched Beckyann suspiciously as she sat there smiling to herself, awaiting his return.
*************************
Thirty minutes later Beckyann was admiring herself in the mirror, noting the way Red's freshly washed fur looked much better now that it had been shampooed. The wet dog smell was unfortunate of course, but it would fade once she put the scented oils on to mask it. She had no idea how he managed to walk around without taking care of such simple maintenance for himself, but she'd be damned if she had to spend more hours in a corpse that was not in its prime condition.
After a moment, she studied the reflection in the mirror, attempting to focus as hard as she could. Although her body shook, she was unable to force the corpse to take on Red's human form, try as she might. After a while she shrugged, figuring there was some trick to it that she didn't know about. It was a shame because she was quite curious about what he'd looked like in life.
"Oh well," she murmured, setting the mirror down. She could already feel the magic of the device they'd triggered starting to fade, and she nodded a goodbye at Nicole.
As consciousness began to slip from her a second time, Beckyann swore that if Red had messed up her quarters he was a dead worgen. She also swore that she'd never do his job or wish to be in his shoes ever, for as long as her undead state lasted.
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