Bethani Easting 2: Reconnecting

The door of the inn creaked loudly as it opened, letting in the dank night air of Darkshire. Within the bustling barroom conversation petered out as all eyes turned towards the open doorway and the newcomer standing there. For a moment, Bethani Easting paused, her malevolent gaze falling over each of the patrons as she studied them in turn. She was forced to hold her face in an expressionless mask as a jolt of surprise surged through her at the sight of the various people inhabiting the place and then a second time at their response.

Her surprise came from the fact that everyone in the room simply turned away and went back to their conversations, as if seeing a death knight was not particularly unusual. In addition, she had immediately noticed that several lycanthropes were present amongst the clientele, both in transformed states and hidden as regular humans if she was any judge of unusual creatures (and she was). This too was not of interest to the patrons there, and it puzzled her for a moment.

Despite her surprise, she forced herself to move nonchalantly, the door closing behind her as she strolled casually through the crowd towards a table set against a far wall. Situated away from the room's main hearth, it was colder there and likely why the spot was not occupied by one of the many drinking, chatting patrons. It suited Bethani just fine though, as the cold night was of little concern to her and she eased herself into the chair, spreading the black stormcloak behind her to avoid sitting on it. She shifted, ensuring her sheathed runeblade would not catch on the chair's back should she suddenly need to draw it.

For a few moments, she simply sat and glanced around the tavern. Things had certainly changed since the war in Northrend. Although she'd been consciously aware of the fact that the world would have moved on without her during her self-enforced slumber in the crypts, being aware of something and seeing it first hand were two entirely different things. The patrons here had clearly experienced much, and if lycanthropes were accepted as members of society then things had changed far beyond what she'd anticipated. Bethani was no mindless undead thing however; she was able to adapt and after a few glances at the nearest worgen to analyze it for potential strengths and weaknesses she paid them all little more heed.

A figure detached itself from the edge of the bar and began making its way towards Bethani. She pretended not to notice at first, but when the figure continued to boldly approach her she affixed her baleful gaze on it, which did little to deter the newcomer. The figure stopped before her, shrouded in a dark, hooded cloak that concealed its features but did little to hid the scourge-glow of its eyes. Bethani nodded once as the person stopped just shy of her table, understanding about why the patrons were not surprised by her presence blooming.

After a moment's pause the silent figure reached into its cloak and pulled out a sealed letter, dropping it on her table before stalking away. Bethani blinked once, watching the figure make its way through the tavern before exiting and being lost to sight. Clearly the person had been a messenger waiting for her arrival, even so it was strange to think that anyone would have expected her given the time she'd spent sealed away. She glanced down at the letter and nodded to herself, seeing the Ebon Blade's seal; the organization would not forget its members, and likely they had put a spell near her resting place to alert them of her rising.

She slipped her gauntlets off, setting them aside so she could pry the seal open with her black-painted fingernails. The letter was terse and to the point, giving a brief overview of events that had transpired during her slumber, the current status of the Ebon Hold, and orders to contact the Knights of the Ebon Blade when she was ready to resume her duties. She absorbed the information quickly, silently reading and considering the words. Much had transpired that she had missed, not that it had mattered much. Taking it all in made her feel groggy and out of place in time, and a smile crossed her black-painted lips as she considered that the feeling was akin to what a living person might feel like after a long afternoon nap in the sun.

As she read, a shadow fell over her and she glanced up to see a barmaid looking down at her. To Bethani's surprise, the woman offered her a smile and nod before speaking, "Can I get you anything, miss?"

Bethani blinked once and was surprised when her voice came out in a harsh croak, "No I'm fine. Actually wait, yes. I need some information. About an old man who wandered the lands nearby. One with a bad illness."

The barmaid frowned, shaking her head, "Ain't nothing I can tell you about that. Maybe Ted at the bar can, but he's not likely to give it away for free when you're taking up one of the tables here."

Bethani forced air into her lungs and sighed, considering the situation. Realizing she needed to blend in better, she decided to play along, her voice still a harsh croak as she responded, "Fine then, I'll have tea. Very hot tea if you can manage it."

The barmaid smiled and nodded, "I sure can! I'll send Ted over to talk to you as soon as he's able."

Bethani nodded, her gaze returning to the letter and re-reading it a second time. It would not due to miss any pertinent details given that she was going to be awake and wandering the world once more. She needed information both about current events and about why she had been disturbed. The Ebon Blade were her people, and she would serve them as she had in the northern campaign. She was alike with them and apart from any of the living people around her, and had unique skills that they could call upon at need. In return, they would give her a stipend, and she would have the opportunity to serve in ways that pleased her.

The barmaid returned a moment later, setting down a steaming hot cup of tea. Bethani paid her and nodded her thanks before taking it up and sipping it gently. Although she could taste very little, the feeling of moisture and heat in her mouth burned away the years of dust and dry decay, clearing her throat and making it easier to draw breath or speak. She didn't need to eat or drink, nor did she like doing so in her unliving state, but sometimes it did help to maintain outward appearances and to keep her form in a reasonable state for social interactions. She coughed briefly, ignoring the alarmed looks several patrons shot her from the unnatural sound before setting the teacup down and gently folding up the letter.

A balding man of middle age approached her table and she studied him, noting the dirty rag hanging from his belt and the nods several patrons gave the man as he passed. Here then was the bartender, and someone who could help her begin her quest. She offered him a non-threatening smile, nodding as he came closer.

"You need something, miss?" he said gruffly.

"Yes, and thank you for taking the time to speak with me. My name is Bethani Easting, and I've...newly arrived here," Bethani said, taking great care to make her words as polite as possible. Unlike many of her kind, she was able to throttle down her irritation and negative emotions when it suited her, maintaining a calm demeanor. "I wish to know about an old man. One who had been wandering the forest and was ill."

The bartender's eyes narrowed as he studied the death knight, "That'd be old Victor. Everyone knew he was getting sick. But you're saying 'was'. You do something to him?"

Bethani shook her head, her tone neutral, "I did not. It was he who disturbed me. He entered my tomb and woke me from my slumber. Foolishly he allowed himself to be injured by the creatures that inhabit the cemetery and was at death's door when I awoke. I could ask him nothing of why he had come before he passed."

The bartender studied her closely for a moment, as if weighing and judging her response. Finally, he nodded slowly, "That's a shame if old Victor's gone and died. I doubt you'd be telling me about it if you were responsible given what you are, although I'll be sending a few of the constables to check if you don't mind."

Bethani sighed, waving a hand at him before reaching up to her neck and pulling an iron chain from beneath her breastplate. On the end hung an emblem of the Ebon Blade, wrought in black iron, "Do what you will, but know that I represent the Ebon Knights. I have more important things to do than to dispose of wandering old men in cemeteries, nor to confess about such crimes later. I laid him to rest in a cairn within the third tomb to the cemetery's east. Your men can check his body; they will find it has been mauled by ghouls multiple times and that I am not responsible for the death."

The bartender nodded again, "That gives your story even more credit, as murders don't usually tell you where the body is free and clear like that. I'll let the Night Watch know. He didn't have any family anyway. Sad tale, that."

Bethani pursed her lips, trying very hard to rein in growing irritation, "I'm quite sure. Regardless, why did he disturb my resting place?"

The man scratched his chin in thought, and then shrugged, "Damned if I know Miss Easting. He was always an odd one, talking about disasters and calamities. Used to read fortunes for people here but they stopped going when he started to only tell 'em bad things. A few people even got sick or died after he told 'em they would. Ever since then he was going downhill fast, and then the sickness took him. Figured he would have died in his bed, not wandered into the cemetery."

Bethani frowned, looking away from the man as she thought. It made little sense, as the man had obviously deliberately disturbed her rest. He had thought it important obviously, even in his declining state. There was more purpose to all of this than could be seen by the naked eye. She looked back up at the bartender and nodded, "Well, that doesn't explain it per say but I guess we can say the old man had finally lost his wits, especially given that he broke into my tomb. I thank you for your assistance."

The man shivered when Bethani had said the tomb was hers, and he was quick to nod and then turn and walk away, leaving her to her thoughts. For a time she simply sat and did nothing, holding the emblem of the Knights of the Ebon Blade in her hand and turning it over and over again, the little black disc with its carved sword motif seeming to drink in the light of the fire and reflecting nothing back. After a time she nodded to herself, tucking the medallion away once more before rising; she would need to learn more of the current state of the world and that was best done by following up on the letter from her superiors and reconnecting with the Ebon Hold. She made her way towards the door, pausing as she neared one of the worgen patrons.

She glanced down at him, a smile crossing her lips as she studied him. There was one more thing she needed to do, "Excuse me?"

"Yes?" the beast growled, looking annoyed that she had interrupted his conversation with another patron.

"I do apologize for cutting in, but...does this town have any enemies nearby?" she said softly.

The worgen looked at her for a moment before shooting her a feral grin. The grin was infectious, spreading to her own lips as he described several enclaves of feral worgen beasts that needed to be put down as well as nearby murloc tribes and the usual bandits and thieves. When he was done, Bethani nodded her thanks and turned quickly, heading towards the door and the night beyond.

In her veins she could feel the pulsing stir of the plagues that she carried. Like a fever, they flowed through her in a rush of warmth, begging for release. Before she could do anything else, she would need to restore her weakened strength, and that would only come through more suffering, more agony, more death.


As the night enveloped her, the death knight who the Scourge once nicknamed the Plague-bringer began her hunt, the fever growing within her as a burning need to harm some living thing. The town of Darkshire would be safer for several weeks to come after her dark work was finished for the evening.