World of Warcraft®

Spices. Unfamiliar, but yet...

They attacked his sense of smell. His nose twitched.

It was his horrendous sneeze that brought him back. The smell of a fine stew filled his nostrals. Sounds slowly filled his head and bit by bit he made sense of them. Most of them. A fire was burning near by. He could feel its warmth. Something was bubbling also. Likely that delightful smelling stew.

The old gnome drew in a slow deep breath. He was laying on something soft. Very soft. So comfortable. He attempted to shift but just the notion of it sent spikes and grips of pain throughout and all over his body. He faintly heard a disagreeable moan. Wait. That moan was coming from him.

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[Edit] ((Origination: http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/10080357937))

"You should lie still old gnome."

Veat stepped near the bed and pulled the covers back over him. It had been three days since the tall masked mage lady and the fat old drunk dwarf delivered him. The old fat dwarf needed a favor, and Veat was happy to oblige. The panda was more than happy to welcome the little creature into her home. She was a monk after all, training in the way of the Mistweaver. It would be unthinkable to turn away a wounded being so obviously in need of her care.

The young panda went back to her small table across the single room farmhouse. Picking up the mortar and pestle she finished preparing her blend and mixed the herbs into a pot of hot water. Not just any hot water would do. Too hot and the tea would be damaged, negating any healing properties within the tender leaves. Not hot enough and the brew would not be as potent. It was certainly an artform, one that she was happily perfecting. But then again, nearly every aspect of her day to day life was nearly an artform that she was striving to perfect in one form or another.

Such is the way of the Mistweaver.

Veat carefully strained the brew into a cup. "Perfection." She smiled.

The old gnome's eyes popped open.

What game is this? He peered around the room.

Small quarters. Wood walls, ceiling. This is not that foul dungeon. Where am I! This is a trick! All a trick! That smug elf couldn't kill me himself so he has his fat fuzzy panda do his dirty work!

The panda turned and neared his bed side, tea cup in hand.

"Nomnomnom."
It's saying something.

"Nomnomnom."
What does it mean! In its hand. A cup! POISON!

The old gnome's face contorts into a malicious scowl. As the panda reaches down with the cup the gnome grasps its wrist with one hand fighting to swat the cup away. Pain and agony from various injuries suffered in the explosion mixed with anger and fear.

Tea began spilling onto the covers as the little old gnome fought.

It was of no use. Try as she might she just couldn't get her patient to drink.

"It's alright little one." She tried to sooth. "This will help you rest. You will feel better." But each time she drew near the gnome's demeanor completely shifted. His face took on a dark countenance that seemed almost other worldly. He snarled, spit, scratched, and even tried to bite her hand on a few occasions. It was no use.

"You need something a little more potent I think." She set the cup on the floor. As she had practiced countless times before she circled her arms out to the side and drew them slowly back to her center, gathering her chi. Again, arms circled out to her sides then drew back to her center, palm nearly touching palm. Each time she exhaled long and deep, evacuating ever bit of breath from her lungs. Then drew the air back in filling her lungs completely, fully expanding her chest cavity. When at last the proper energy was gathered, her paws warm and tingling, she thrust her arms at the gnome.

The fingertips of one hand lightly touched alongside the gnome's head and neck. The other hand lay palm flat on her patient's chest to keep him still. She released her chi and though the old gnome fought hard at first, the warmth of the energy released coupled with a few proper pressure points relaxed the injured creature. In moments the gnome was back to softly snoring.

"What manner of ill has befallen you little one?"

Veat poured the rest of the tea, leaves and all, into the cup and added a few other ingredients. She mixed them around until a salve congealed. Together with this salve and some fresh bandages she began her care. Cleaning and bandaging the small form, examining him closer to better understand the physical trauma he had suffered.

Time passed at a crawl, but with each passing day the old gnome could feel his old strength returning to him. As much grief as she still gave the fat panda experience was telling him that her methods were working.

A month's time passed. Injuries still on the mend, precautions still needed to be taken, but all in toll he was well. Not whole, but well. Nights were usually the worst. Veat would recount to him his violent thrashings and screams as she slept, even to the point that she would have to hold him down to prevent further injuries. As he healed they seemed to recede, and so the fat panda began leaving him alone at night. But Cail knew better. The night-terrors dissipated but the nightmares only got worse.

In the morning he could never remember them. Veat would grill him with her incessant questions but he'd only remember feelings. Emotions. Never events and never anything precise. He would tell her everything, secretly grateful for her company, but one thing he never divulged.

His nightmares left an impressed that he was doing battle with himself. As if there was another within him. Angry. Hostile. Resentful at being kept within. Plotting, scheming. Waiting for his time to come out. It was a thought that kept him awake most nights. Awake, he had to find something to occupy his hands afraid of what might happen if he didn't. The other might gain control. It was a crazy notion, but still. Thankfully Halfhill and Karasang were home to some of the most incredible fishing he had ever encountered.

And so he passed most every day, like today. Drifting slowly across the pristine waters on a raft of his own making. A design showed him by an esteemed angler named Nat. Cail floated carelessly on a lake north of halfhill, just off the dock overseen most days by a curious panda that goes by the name of Fish. Line in the water. Reclined. Hat tipped forward. Lit pipe clenched between his teeth. Not a care in the world.

Everything was at peace. Everything was right.

Peace is a lie.

Nothing is right. But I will make them right. There is a laden power resting within you little gnome. A power that has waited so long for you to find it. Find it you did! I was there waiting too. You found me and I found you. There is no going back. I want OUT!

...but I can wait. I have waited this long. Know this kind, sweet, compassionate, naive little old gnome. There is no light without dark. No dark with light. One can not exist without the other. This is our paradox. Utilize the one and you create the other. So go right ahead. When you remember, use the light.

My time will come. Soon.

*A deep menacing chuckle follows.*

Another day out on the water.

This day however was spent floating around the coves and beaches south of Karasang. The sea water was surprisingly agreeable. Not too choppy. Only a few minor waves to deal with out on the raft, but those areas were easily avoided. A full barrel of fish meant another trip to the fishing village to off load and resupply. A few fine tweaks to his custom pole (complete with an auto-reel fit with a troc and tension distributor) and the old gnome was out to sea once again.

Cail settled back on his raft. A flip of his sore wrist and the line flew out, arced across the sky and plunked into the waters. His enhanced bobber, weight, and bait system ensured a proper depth to maximise his catch of the day. The elusive Flying Tiger Fin. So far only a fair number of reef octopus had found his line, along with a few other assorted fish. Whether he caught the fish or not, it didn't really matter. Fishing was all about the rest and relaxation, which in his case meant healing.

...oh yes, and booze.

Remembering his tankard with a grin, Cail reached his sore bones around and pulled it from his pack. He popped the top and took a few good swigs, then let it rest on his stomach, one hand holding it in place.

Everything was as it should be.

Nothing is as it should be.

Cail opened his lazy eyes and glanced about. He still laid on his raft out on rather pristine sea waters, drifting easily about in the cove not far from the Angler's Cove. He wondered where that voice could have come from. An unease set in. He took another long swig of his brandy and checked his line. All seemed well enough so the old gnome settled back in and closed his eyes, feeling the sun on his arms and letting the gentle toss of the sea rock him to sleep.

Get up you fat old gnome.

Cail's eyes popped open again. He gazed about in a flurry but found yet again he was alone. He must have dozed off for a bit, noting that he had drifted a little closer to the sandbar village...but otherwise all was well. For good measure Cail pressed the button on his reel and the line retracted with a rather quick zip. He set the pole into a holder by the barrel and dropped the line where he floated. Further, to ensure he didn't drift out to sea, he dropped a weighty little anchor to hold him in place. Satisfied, he took a final swig of his brandy, corked the bottle, slipped it back into his bag and then relaxed. His head and senses felt light. Cail knew his drink was working. Reclining once again the old gnome slipped right into a deep relaxing sleep.

It didn't remain that way...

In his dream Cail floated without a care upon the sea. No fishing pole in hand, not a care in the world. Just drifting. The sky was bright. A gentle wind blew cool. He drew in a deep breath and his lungs filled with fresh sea air.

His lungs filled with fresh seawater. In a panic the old gnome glanced about. The sea had risen into giant angry waves. They tossed him up and curled him under. He couldn't breath. He was suffocating. The moment he thought it was all over, that this is how he would finally meet his end, a voice spoke to him.

Breath you oaf.

It wasn't a very nice voice. Cail willed it. Willed himself to take a breath. The waters churned as another wave formed, dragging him up into its crest where his head broke the surface. For that instant he gasped and filled his lungs full of air, and a little bit of water, before he was plunged below once again.

You stupid old gnome! Get out of there!

The voice directed him to the beach. It was near. Will it! the voice growled, and so he did. Through sheer force of will Cail caused the seas to churn again, albeit angrily, and crash upon the beach. The waters receded leaving the old gnome in a sopping wet heap upon the sands, coughing and gasping for air.

Get up little fatty!

No time to waste. Lungs burning as he struggled to clear them of the sea water, Cail pressed to his feet and began running. Something was there. Right behind him. It followed him. Chased him. RUN! the voice commanded. Through the Karasang Forest he fled. Over logs, beneath fallen branches, leafy branches and vines smacking him in the face, tripping him up. He couldn't run fast enough. It would get him. The darkness. It was coming.

There it was! Salvation! The cliffs of Karasang. Half Hill was not far. Nearly just above. All he had to do was...

Cail reached the cliff face and looked up. The top soared higher and higher until he couldn't see its grassy lip. It was too tall.

Defend your worthless hide gnome!

Cail turned. The voice. It came from the darkness. No. It was the darkness. Shadows swirled around him, pressing him harder against the rock face. He couldn't go up. He couldn't run. He was doomed. Doomed!

"Doomed! Doomed!" the voice mocked. "You're worthless! You always were."

Cail despaired. He glanced around in a panic as the world grew darker. Something wasn't right. Something was off.

"Yes! You are the one who doesn't belong!" Inky tendrils curled and lashed out at him. Scratching his skin. Piercing his flesh. His flesh. Cail looked down. His wounds were long and deep, but no blood.

This was a dream. He was asleep! That meant that this was still his world. Cail willed the darkness back and it abated. No. No you don't. The voice yelled. It screamed and thrashed... but it did so in his head. He wasn't actually hearing the voice, so much as he felt it. He willed the darkness back further and it obeyed. The voice thrashed about, but to no end. Cail was fully in control.

Without much thought Cail enveloped himself in light and became weightless. Through sheer force of will he gently floated up above the dark forests below and settled down upon the green grass of the valley ridge above. The darkness followed him up, howling, spitting all manner of vile insults. It curled like dark waves and threatened to crash upon him, but it didn't. Cail would not allow it. An inky figure struggled to pull free from the churning darkness. It was small, no bigger than himself. The figure shifted and took form.

It was like looking into a mirror. Cail stared back at himself. The old gnome was startled, even scared, but more than anything else... Cail was curious. He stared at the thing, heart thumping in his chest. A darkness churned within his doppelganger. Malice, hate and rage filled Dark-Cail's eyes. It did not speak with its mouth, but rather with its mind. It spoke using Cail's own voice, within Cail's own mind.

You will not be rid of me so easily. It spit and spattered. I told you once before, I will always be here. Lurking. Waiting. Watching. It released itself and the darkness pulled the dark image of Cail back into itself. The light will keep me at bay for only so long. Sooner or later, my time will come.

As the darkness fell back from the cliff face, Cail awoke.

The old gnome's head split with pain. The sounds, minor background noises, all pierced his ears. They hurt. Cail moved his arms to try and cover them but pain rippled through every muscle. He drug them only inches across the floor before he gave up and flopped back down.

He drew a deep breath. Wood. The floor was wooden. That wasn't right. He thought back to the sea air and warm sun. He had fallen asleep on his raft. Where was he?

The old gnome rolled his head to the side and struggled to open an eye. His vision blurred. Faint light, sun light, poured in through an open window, and even that hurt. After a moment of blinking, eyes watering, he could make out wooden walls. A roof. That smell of food and spices. He was back at the farm house near half hill.

Cail pressed himself up, everything in his body ached. Even his toes screamed in pain with just the thought of bearing weight. He had too. Moans and grunts accompanied the arduous task, but soon the battered old gnome found his way up and onto his bed. As he recaptured his breath he noticed that the room was dark, yet it seemed mid day outside. Funny, the sun was close to setting last I dozed off... He remembered.

Pressing himself up on his bed he swung his legs over and let his feet rest on the floor. They ached with a menacing sting. He pulled them back up just off the floor and looking down noticed that they were covered with dirt. Dark think muddy soil caked on with bits of leaf and twig stuck to it. Splashed of mud dried on his hands, knees, and patches of it seemed to be all over him. He felt at his face. Even his beard had globs of mud caked. He squished it between his fingers. It was still drying. Not fresh, but not that old either. The looked down at himself wondering what had happened. Whatever it was, it had happened fairly recently.

The door burst open bathing him in daylight. The surprise took him and with a yelp he fell backward covering his face.

Heart racing, breath panting, muscles pounding, straining for protection. Cail screamed.

A soft furry paw touched him. Recognition swiftly set in. It was the one he called Veat. The Panderan healer that had been seeing him. Never had he felt so happy to see a familiar face, drawing him back from the brink of insanity, making him feel grounded again; and never in his life had that feeling gave way to his ire.

"What the Fel is the meaning of this!" He batted her paw away. "Why would you ever burst in on an old gnome! Don't you know you could have killed me!"

She apologized, bowing deeply. "I'm so sorry little one." Her voice grave and full of genuine concern. "I came to check on you only to find that you hadn't returned from your sea fishing." She stood straight, but then bowed again as she spoke. "I went looking for you, but you were not at the Angler's Cove." She bowed again. "When I came back you were laying on the floor here with the door open. So I closed it and ran for supplies to help heal your wounded feet." She pointed, then remembered herself and began to bow again.

Cail waved his hand. Agitated. "Stop that. Stop your incessant bowing." Veat halted. She started at the gnome with grief filled eyes. All at once Cail felt horrible. "I am the one that should be sorry Veat. I didn't mean to worry you as I had." He gestured to a stool. "Please sit."

Veat nodded with a thankful smile and took her seat. She respectfully pulled Cail's feet up to her knee, one at a time, and began cleaning them. A rag in hand and a pale full of water nearby. With care she scraped the mud from them, but that did little to stop the shooting pains that made him wince and grit his teeth as she worked. "Tell me." He hopped to focus on something other than the pain. "Did you happen to find my raft when you went to the cove?"

Veat paused in her work, long enough to note an emotion shift in her eyes. "No." She said flatly. Cail nodded. He winced as she continued cleaning. "So sorry." She apologized. "There are many cuts on the bottom, some very deep. I must clean them properly or they will..."

"I will get an infection, yes, I am well aware." He gritted his teeth at the pain. Veat considered him a moment. "You know of such things?"

Cail nodded to her. "Yes. I am..." He stopped himself. "I was a doctor. Once."

Veat mused. "Oh. A good doctor?" Cail attempted to grin, but it came more as an unintended sneer. "I would like to think so." He nodded. She continued cleaning. Cail fixated on that slight shift of emotion he witnessed. He had to know what that was all about.

"Earlier..." He paused to grit his teeth and take a breath. "I asked about the cove." Veat nodded. "What else did you find?"

Veat nodded at her work. "Almost finished. Just some salve to.." Cail interrupted her. "Please. I must know."

The large panda huffed, considering the gnome a moment. She picked a jar off the table and opened it. Using the sterile bandage she swiped out a large glob and began applying it to Cail's feet. The sensation cooled the burn and felt rather refreshing. She locked onto his gaze as she worked the bandage around.

"I lied." She said. Cail responded, "But why lie about finding my raft?" She continued. "Because I did not want you to go back there for it."

"Why not?" She considered the question before answering. "Because they are all afraid of you." Cail looked incredulous. Fishermen. Men! Afraid of an old gnome! Just as she was preparing a laugh she pressed his foot. Cail winced in pain and caught her gaze again. "I went looking for you three days ago." As veat carefully set one foot down and took up the other, Cail reeled at what she said.

"Three days?" he was incredulous. "Three whole days? That's when you left to find me?" Veat nodded and continued her tale. "I went to find you three days ago. As I asked around most fishermen seemed to know you but did not want to talk about something. I finally cornered a Panderan selling bait and pulled it out of him." Same as before, she loaded a fresh bandage with salve and began working it into his foot.

"One fisherman claimed that he saw you out on your raft. He mounted his own and paddled out to you. You were asleep as he approached. When he neared you rocked as if you were dreaming and fell into the water. The fisherman panicked and dove in after you." Cail listened intently, following every detail.

"You struggled much, but he finally was able to pull you from the water and onto the beach. He tried to help you." She paused a moment. Cail urged her on. Pulling the bandage snugly around his foot she finished her wrap. "He said, it was as if you were awake but still caught up in a dream. He said that you fought with him. The more he tried to help, the hard you struggled and the stronger you became. You lashed out and punched him in the jaw. Shocked he let you go and you ran in a mad panic into the forest but.."

Cail waited. Listening with anticipation. Veat struggled with the tale, unsure of herself. "He said that the fisherman told him how you ran into the forest but stopped as you reached the edge of it. You turned briefly and snarled back at the man. He said that your eyes were black as night. Your face appeared terrifying. Then a searing pain paralyzed the man. He wanted to scream but all he could do was curl up into a ball, all the while staring at you. For the brief moment all his fears came to him like wandering horrors drifting across the sands. He said that darkness threatened to take him, and then you were gone."

Cail shook his head. It was unbeleivable. How could something like that happen? "That's impossible." Veat perked up, but seemed a little terrified at the whole notion. "Yes." She forced a smile. "Impossible. I told him as much, but he wouldn't listen. He kept saying how he was a good man and wasn't know to lie about such things. Then he started to talk about silly superstitions and well, you know who those men can be."

Cail nodded. "Yes. Scared of their own shadows." He pressed her for more information. "What happened with that man?"

"He was in a drunken stupor the whole while. Likely still drinking." Cail heaved a sigh of relief. All his life he had been dedicated to saving lives and helping people, even when they were beyond such notions. Never did he want to deliberately harm someone. He rubbed his beard in thought. Not seriously at least.

"This troubles me Veat. It all troubles me a great deal." He caught her gaze again. "In spite of the horrible way I have sometimes treated you, I can honestly say that I regard you as a good person. If you will allow me, may I call you friend?" Veat smiled wide and nodded her head. "I would be pleased to call you friend little gnome."

Cail laughed a bit. "Yes. I am little. I apologize for calling you fat." Veat chuckled deeply. "Do not worry yourself. Such ways are not insulting to a pandaren. We take pride in our plump nature. To be fat is to be great!" She exclaimed, slapping her ample thigh.

"Excellent then! My friend, I need a favor." Veat nodded. "I need to return to Stormwind. Do you think you can help me get back there?" The ample Pandaren regarded him gravely. "You are still not whole little gnome. Stronger, yes. Healthier, yes. But still not whole."

Cail's expression twisted with frustration. "But I need to return. Right now if possible. This is important. I can not wait." Veat regarded him again. Cail continued. "Please. Is there any way you can help me finish my recovery in Stormwind?" She scratched the side of her head a moment.

She nodded. "Very well, but not now. Right now your feet heal. You rest and eat lots of soup. Let me care for you, then when your feet are healed enough we will return to Stormwind but only in my care."

He didn't like it. In fact he hated it. Really it wasn't that he didn't like Veat, or her people. Something about their extreme politeness was refreshing but at the same time grating. Most of all, he hated being waited upon. Tended too. Cared for. All his life it had been him doing the tending and the caring. He felt for the first time so weak and helpless.

He couldn't despair though. Left alone he knew that eventually the darkness would creep back to him. Maybe only in his dreams, but still. Something had taken over him that day and delivered him from the sea to this farm house. Was it the darkness within? Perhaps it was his subconsciousness returning to a place he felt safe. If he knew anything at all it was this. A good doctor makes a terrible patient. He couldn't diagnose himself. He couldn't treat himself. Worse yet, he couldn't heal himself.

Such healing was beyond him, and he could sense it was beyond Veat's considerable abilities. He needed help. He needed to contact Genevra again. Perhaps she could further aid him. The old gnome caught her gaze once more. "Veat. I agree to your conditions, but I need some paper and something to write with. A letter needs to be sent immediately."

Veat stood and bowed deeply to him. Cail felt inclined to return the bow with one of his own. "A letter. That we can do immediately." With a cheerful grace full of purpose the Pandaren drifted out the door and on her way to retrieve more supplies.

Cail finished signing his name with a certain flourish that was uncommon for him. Something new.

The old gnome at first folded his letter neatly and then attempted to fold the two documents together. This method just did not work. The envelope was too bulky. Instead he separated each document, folding each in half individually, and laying one atop the other. His letter he also folded and laid on top. He then carefully wrapped the documents a letter together with a larger sheet of rice paper, folding and tucking where appropriate, until finally he had a neatly wrapped bundle.

He tied the bundle with a long strip of fibrous cord, and sealed it with a thick nugget of red wax. On the corner, plain and visible, is written:

Matron Genevra Stoneheardt
Northshire Abbey,
Province of Elwynn,
Kingdom of Stormwind
Care of AAMS, Alliance Air Mail

-------------------------------------------[the letter reads]---------------------------------------------

Dearest Genevra,

Warmest regards to you and your soon to be, and my deepest thanks for traveling such a long distance to grace an old ailing gnome with your sweet presence during what has become my rather lengthy recuperation. Upon my arrival and for some time afterward I have been worried over by a young Pandaren known to me by the name of Veat. Each and everyday she has provided an exquisite service of wellness, aiding and guiding my recovery every step. Her kindness and gentile manner is surpassed only by her ample talent and skillful use of a rather mysterious healing craft. Needless to say, I have been in very good hands.

As you graced my ears at your visit with such wonderful news of [the ink curiously smudges here], allow me to grace you with some good news of my own. Through careful negotiations I have convinced my caregiver to allow me to return home to Ironforge, whereupon I may resume a limited degree of travel to Stormwind, also under her care. I am looking forward to returning home with great anticipation. Once was a time when I could not wait to leave it, now I await the day with anticipation when I can return to its dusty shelves and the noise filled halls of industrious ol'Ironforge. Moreover I look forward to visiting with you and my fellows of the Conclave once more. To wit, please find enclosed two short documents of some importance to me.

About these two documents, I have a favor of you to ask. Please read each over with great care. Upon my arrival, which will not occur for a short while yet, I would like to discuss their contents with you at length that I may know your impressions, thoughts, theories. I would also ask of you one more favor. Extend your considerable reach and find for me, if you are able, one such a person who can interpret dreams with some degree of skill. If found, I would like to meet with this person soon after my arrival.

I feel I ask much of you, and I do hope it isn't too much of a bother.

Thank you again so much for your friendship, your help, and your guidance.

Your old and truest friend,

Cail Liam Mahlr'D [signed with a flourish]

[Attached are two documents, each hand written of only two or thee pages. One recounts with vivid details Cail's dream sequence from above, annotated with a few of his impressions. The second is a recounting of Veat's tale (also above) to the best of his recollection.]

Monday morning the old gnome awoke with a certain energy of purpose he hadn't felt in some time. Since his dramatic abduction and subsequent heroic rescue his recovery from physical as well as mental injuries had taken several abrupt and unexpected turns. Of which the past few days the old doctor had begun questioning is own sanity, a thing which he had always had a grip on. A thing which had never been in question throughout the whole of his rather unremarkable existence.

Unremarkable, he would say. Even now as he dressed and prepared himself for his journey to Ironforge to attend the medical clinic, his mind lingered on 'the old days'. A time before the world had been at war. Before the Orc and Ogre. Before demons and fel magics. Peering backward life seemed so much more simple then. Even then, evil people still existed. Why should then be any different from today? Occasionally the good old doctor needed to remind himself of this.

His preparations complete, Cail Liam Mahlr'D pulled his lucky fishing hat on over his fluffy white mane of hair and strolled out of his apartment in the Stormwind Dwarven District, heading at an easy pace toward the underground tram. Descending into the tunnel he paused. Something was wrong. The old gnome leaned forward placing his hands on his knees. Just breath. He repeated the mantra drawing in deep breaths. It wasn't helping.

He needed to get out. Cail turned back toward the entrance, back toward Stormwind, when something gripped him. He clenched at his stomach. It churned and ached as if someone were wrenching his innards into a knot. A completely new sensation washed over him, one that attacked all of his senses.

As his world spun head over heels, the old gnome clenched his chest and collapsed.

A darkness took him....

To say that Sprocketeer was odd for a gnome was an understatement. The woman had more goblin tendencies than gnomish. She was on her way to Ironforge from Stormwind, her packs freshly filled with an assortment of gadgets and gizmos, all items carefully selected and purchased for her next project.

She turned the corner into the tram entrance, stopping in her tracks as she came upon a body fallen over in the corridor. Sprocketeer was not a healer nor one to really care about others, but as she got closer she saw that it was a fellow gnome, and even then she saw that it was a gnome that was familiar to her.

"Cail?" she leaned over and poked him a few times, realizing that he was not well, "Help!" she called, "Medic! We need a medic!"

From the corner of his vision Cail saw two small gnomish feet approach him as he laid in a heap just inside the Stormwind Tram Entrance. He heard an almost familiar voice calling to him from down a long hall.

A few dull pains in his side. Was he being poked?

The world faded. Blurred. The old gnomes' head swam in a haze. People talking, others shouting, echoes in the distance meshing together.

Errant thoughts? A mash of memories? Current events? It was impossible to tell.

Moments passed where he felt completely at peace. Pain occasionally shocked his system. Gnawing pain. Sharp pains. Needling pains. They radiated from head to toe to head again. Then he felt like he was drowning, suspended out in space surrounded by vibrant colors that flashed and swirled together until suddenly darkness took him again.

Comfort returned to him. All was silent. All was still. All was dark. Dark... and cold.

Sprocketeer did what any self respecting goblin loving gnome would do: she pulled out her jumping cables. She looked around the tunnel wondering idly why no one had come by. It was odd but if there was no medic it would be left to her.

With a flick of a switch and soft hummmmmm, the jumper cables, Sprocketeer was certain she was doing what any sensible gnome would do. She pressed the end of the cables together and was just about to press them Cail's chest when the sound of approaching footsteps startled her. What if someone thought that she was trying to harm him?

She was not going back to the Stockades.

She wandered as she oft did when she had struggled to work on a sermon or a lesson for one of her acolytes. She found that being surrounded by the sights and sounds of the busy city often allowed her just enough distraction to let her mind wander and do what it did best: solve problems.
She coughed as she passed through the cloud that was the Dwarven District. In an attempt to avoid further smoke inhalation she took a detour around the hub of blacksmiths, passing by the entrance to the Tram. Her thoughts wandered as she struggled to think of a new analogy to explain the contrast of Light and Shadow.

She walked past the tram entrance, only to stop mid step and turn to look at the scene that was unfolding before her. "Sprocketeer?" Her voice raised with the question and her face filled with panic as she realized it was Ducky who lay upon the cobblestones.

"Ducky!" She exclaimed.

She rushed forward, nearly running Sprocketeer over, the gnome making no efforts to hide her protest, "Nearly shocked me to death you damn tall one!" echoed through the hall as Genevra knelt at Ducky's side.

Her heart ached as she saw the gnome so pale. He had been through so much recently all Genevra wanted for her old friend was peace. Her right hand rested on his chest, glowing softly with the Light that eminated from her as she tried to stabilize him. "I'll need to move him." She said to Sprocketeer, wishing that it were anyone else but the spiteful gnome there to help her.