World of Warcraft®

"It took some doing..." Nixim explained to one of his engineering colleges. "But I finally found what I was looking for."

"The schematics for those Arcane Nullifier Bots?" The young engineer asked eagerly.

Nixim nodded his head, his green tinted goggles resting on his forehead. "That's right." He grinned. "I found them, along with the hard copies to several other interesting devices."

"Oh my!" A second engineering college squeaked. She leaned forward over Nixim's back-lit drafting table. "Did you bring us copies or originals?" She asked greedily.

Nixim averted their gaze, looking out over the warehouse he'd built in Stormwind. "Neither." He answered bitterly. The pair of engineers shared a shocked-curious glance.

"...but, but..." One of them stuttered.

"Proprietary he said!" Nixim interrupted. He scowled at the memory. "They were all declared the sole property of the Great City of Gnomeregan!" He waved his hands dramatically in the air. "BAH!" He tore the goggles from his head and skipped them across the drafting table. "It was out of spite I tell ya! They've still not forgiven me for past mistakes."

The pair of engineers shrunk in defeat. "Well," The male asked. "What do you do now?"
"Should I inform Tink in Thelsamar, sir?"

Nixim shook his head. "No, no. Tink was there with me. She already knows." He looked at each in turn. A mischievous grin slowly spread across his features. "But they'd forgotten who they were dealing with."

The two engineers perked up as Nixim reached for a stick of graphite. "Fetch me some architect's parchment. I have some designs to sketch." Nixim tapped the side of his head with a finger and the other two understood his meaning. A professor and master tinker, Nixim had a mind for understanding, creating, and recreating engineering schematics. He had only had a glance at the schematics he'd found in Gnomeregan, so they wouldn't be exact duplicates, but the gnome was certain he could get close enough.

As the pair of engineers scurried away the master tinker turned to his roster. He would need to assemble a crack R&D team if he was going to come up with something functional soon. His friend, the old gnome Cail, was counting on him.

Cailean.

A soft familiar voice whispered to the old gnome, as if from down a long corridor.

Cailean.

An intimate whisper. She called to him again, but was somehow closer. The breathy voice comforted as he slowly stirred.

"Cailean."

Cail blinked the sleep from his eyes as he stretched. Leaning over him, her long red hair tickled his nose and cheek. Gentle shafts of light illuminated the fiery strands. She stared down at him with those lovely green eyes. A playful smirk played across her lips, puckering the freckled cheeks he so often kissed.

"Tana." He breathed. The soft haze of sleep blurred everything else. Her drew in a deep breath smelling her sweet fragrance.

Home.

Cail closed his eyes again and drew another slow deep breath. The fragrance turned to stench. He gagged a cough. The air around him burned as he rolled out of bed. Hands and knees, he groped his surroundings. Panic and confusion pierced him.

"Tanaflyn!" He called desperately. His eyes stung from the smoke, lungs seared with pain. In his groping he found a hand.

"Flit?" Confused, he continued to grope. Then he found another. "Bixi?" His voice trembled. A third he found. "Dini?" He cried out in horror. "NO! NO!"

Something grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back from the smoke. The twisted visage of a familiar man glared hungrily down at the old gnome. He snarled and Cail scurried backward through the dirt and into tall grass. The cool green blades became warm and painted in crimson.

The old gnome stood and ran, his heart thudding in his chest. Breaking from the tall grass the night sky was ablaze, glowing orange and yellow beyond the parapets. The snarl of the man came suddenly from behind. Finding a fallen tree limb Cail turned sharply and swung.

----------

"Mahlr'D!" A familiar voice jarred his mind.

"Curator!" Another voice. A familiar touch shook his shoulders. Cail blinked heavy eyes and squinted. His heart beat heavily in his chest. His lungs burned as he panted. He screamed once more as the world rushed back to him. He grabbed the arms holding him and peered around at the white stone of the archive walls. His tense body relaxed when he realized he was at Northshire Abbey, in his office deep below within Conclave's Archives. The arms he was hold, and who were holding him, belonged to a young acolyte who was familiar to him.

"Jarod?" Cail peered up at the young man in confusion.
"Where-where am... How'd I get..." The old gnome found he was standing near the doorway. Another acolyte lay just outside, leaning against a bookshelf amidst a litter of volumes, scrolls, and manuscripts rubbing his head. Another knelt nearby holding one of Cail's short wooden canes.

"What's happened? Why's Tyler on the floor, and what's Eldon doing with my cane?"

Young Jarod comforted the old gnome. He spoke softly and gently turned Cail back to his bed. "No worries Dr. Mahlr'D. Don't you worry about it. Let's go back and sit on your cot."

Amidst confused protests the young man gently led the old gnome back to his cot where he explained everything.

Cail sat on the edge of his cot, wiping the sweat from his brow with a cool-damp rag. Jarod, the young acolyte, sat across from him.

"I'm-I'm so sorry Jarod." Cail's face burned with embarrassment. "I don't rightly know what came over me."

Jarod nodded with a kind smile. "It's alright Doctor. You acted while deep in sleep with a fitful dream. I use to have them, you know. My mum once caught me wandering the house at night. She followed me to the creek by our home. I awoke suddenly when she called my name. It was scary."

Cail nodded. "Well, I'm fine now. I'm just glad no one was terribly injured."

Jarod chuckled. "Me too. I arrived just as you gave Tyler a good crack over the head with your cane. I've never seen you so violent before Doc. I was in shock. Thankfully Eldon was close by. He grabbed the cane from you, and then I woke you. No harm done."

Cail nodded offering a troubled smile. He chose not to ask the obvious question. If Tyler had been inside his office at the time Cail had whacked him with his cane, then how on earth did he end up laying against a bookshelf outside his office surrounded in a litter of that shelf's contents? Cail was old and eccentric at times but he was no fool. He recognized their fear stricken eyes, the incredulous glances, and their ashen faces. Cail had done something in his sleep that these three boys had witnessed. Something that left them terrified.

"Why don't you lay back and try to rest a while longer. It's still very early in the morning." Cail nodded slowly, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Yes. That may be wise." He eased himself down onto his pillow. He mumbled sleepily. "When Brandy awakes have her make me some of that tea of hers. Just set it on the desk."

"Sure thing Doctor." Jarod pulled the blanket over the old gnome and patted his shoulder. "A guardian will remain outside in case you should need something."

The old gnome nodded. Almost immediately he began to snore softly.

Young Jarod smiled to himself, admiring how much Cail reminded him of his own grandfather. He quietly left and pulled the door closed. An older man, the Guardian of Conclave stood by Cail's office door, dressed in his standard Stormwind themed armor clad in the colors of the guild. The two locked a serious gaze.

"No one enters and he doesn't leave. Not until I can talk with the Steward."

The guard shifted, eyeing the boy incredulously. "Be quick then. After what we just witnessed, I doubt three of us could keep him anywhere."

Jarod nodded, and was off.

Cail was grateful that he'd been in a rather clear state of mind when news reached him of Battlelord Velenkayn's untimely demise. It weighed heavily on him. Though he wasn't exactly close with the death knight, and the old gnome actively avoided the conflicts he and Genevra often got into (lest he become a casualty himself), he'd come to greatly respect Velenkayn.

It had been personally difficult in the beginning, but in the past year he'd been able to see past the undead aspect and into the soul of the proud draenei. His strength often encouraged him in his own personal problems to keep soldiering forward with an open mind.

No sooner did the kindly scholar leave did Cail feel an episode coming on. Jittery hands pulled open a desk drawer. Various sized glass pill bottles rattled. His hand moved through a veritable pharmacology of medicine. A mixture of homeopathic remedies and more refined medicines. Filling his palm with a mixture of five pills he swallowed them down, drinking water from a glass he began to keep near.

They often helped, but only just so.

His mind drifted back to Velenkayn's services for a moment. He needed to find an appropriate representative to attend in his stead. Pulling a file nearby he opened it and glanced through pages of the Conclave rosters. Many of the name were familiar, several ought to have been, and others were completely foreign. Still, there had to be one among them.

A sharp pain slowly pierced his temple. He'd grown accustomed to the sensation and understood it as a sign. Putting the roster down he slipped from his desk to his bed and curled beneath the sheets. The visions would be coming soon, followed then with a bout of confusion and occasional paranoia. Cail had taken a few of the guardians into his confidence and left them with instructions not to be disturbed, nor to worry should they hear yelling and screaming coming from within.

Curled into a ball as he was, he laid in bed thinking of ways he might medically slow or even reverse the deterioration of his mental faculties. He had several ideas. None of them pleasant, or healthy in the long run... but they may just give him a chance.

On his desk amidst the rubble lay a book he'd found and had been studying at great length. He'd discovered it locked away in vault reserved for dangerous artifacts. Despite its elusive title he recognized the traces of shadow magic that wove throughout the tome. It resonated with the shroud around his heart. He took it and hid the codex away swearing never to open it unless his situation had grown dire. Well, things had become quite dire. The old gnome had spent most of the morning casually reading through its pages before news of the Battlelord interrupted.

This will help. He kept reassuring himself. Despite his lack of basic magic training he was beginning to make some progress in his understanding, much to his own surprise. He just needed more time.

These ...medications... will help.

...he'd hoped.

Meraligus Pitrish Overpressure was a low ranking recruit to the Conclave Guard. Most of her time was spent standing post somewhere within the abbey. It wasn't unusual for a gnome to go unnoticed, but this was especially true for Ally (as she preferred to be called if proper names were to be used). The serious sort, she always kept to herself, was never one to make waves and always kept her eye focused on the job at hand.

Truth be told she was a bore to be around. It was a safe row to hoe through life and that's where she'd been comfortable up until now. Being seen but never really being noticed. One might imagine her surprise and confusion when she was fetched to the curator's office by a young scholar of Conclave.

A veteran of several armed conflicts (including also the first two wars) Overpressure was a soldier in blue through and through. It was for this reason, as Dr. Mahlr'D had explained, that she was chosen to represent the curator at Battlelord Velenkayn's funeral. He knew she would conduct herself in a manor befitting a soldier honoring the life and passing of fellow soldier.

She'd never known the death knight personally, but had stood silently by and witnessed his few comings and goings at the Abbey since the guard had been reactivated. Immediately she knew he'd be one she'd gladly follow headlong into an uphill battle. So it was for her truly an honor to be able to show this great soldier his due respect and reverence.

With all of her preparations squared away and her precious cargo secured in a saddle pack, she mounted her freshly pained Conclave Blue mechanostrider, complete with white laurel emblems on the chest panels and white striping on the brow and neck, and galloped toward the mage tower in Stormwind to make arrangements for passage to Shadowgarde on Draenor.

For several days after the bombing attack on Dalaran's Merchant District* Sadie remained to aid the search and rescue, helping to find and identify those who had been caught up in the blasts. Relief and comfort efforts for the families involved and reconstruction of the district followed, and so she found her usefulness nearing its end. She took some time to double check her facts, to make certain Alieth Taldir was in fact dead.

The evidence she'd gathered on her own was enough to substantiate the public claims. By all accounts the Red Mage was no more, but Sadie remained unconvinced. Perhaps she was gone. Perhaps her suspicions were simply result of an overly developed sense of skepticism. Which ever the case her return to the Abbey in Northshire had come. Her personal report to Curator Mahlr'D was long over due.
-----

Arriving at Stormwind's Mage Tower in the afternoon, Sadie summoned her flying carpet to carry her over the hills toward the Abbey. She'd sent word ahead of her so the curator should be waiting. Abandoning her usual dramatic (some would say reckless) entrances, the mage stepped from her carpet at the front steps and dismissed her creation back to its dimension. Several casual, calculated, and well timed blinks later she suddenly appeared at Doctor Mahlr'D's office door.

The man standing guard yelped at her sudden arrival. Sadie produced her guild credentials and soothed the guard's alarm.

"The doctor is not available." The guardian stated flatly after regaining his composure. Sadie cocked her cowled head curiously.

"Tell me why. I've sent word. He should be awaiting me." Sadie replied equally as flat and stared at him.

Her features darkened beneath the hood denied the guard a clear read of her emotions and intent. Coupled with the known enigmatic nature of magi among the more common folk it often served well enough to unbalance the people she dealt with, as it did now with this guard. Perhaps a bit theatrical, but the man was beginning to sway to the intimidation.

"I-I was instructed not to allow a-any visitors. Under any circumstances." The man swallowed hard as the mage continued to stare at him. She leaned slightly closer, speaking quieter and slower.

"You mean to say that word of my arrival never reached him." She stated coldly. The guard responded with a simple head shake, No. Sadie straightened and turned toward the door. "Unfortunate."

Raising a hand she gently touched the door, activating a spell fashioned to grant her insight enough to understand the rooms' composition. Where the furniture sat. How many people were within. Where they stood. If they were moving.

"The door is seal, ma'm. You can not enter." The guard stated apologetically. Sadie shrugged, and disappeared.

The office was darkened except for a few single candles burning around the corner where stood the desk, a small cot set up behind.

The old gnome sat at his desk. The flicker of the nearby candle light cast eerie shadows over the disheveled papers and stacks of books he leaned over. Sadie stood silently for a long moment in the darkness near the locked door, observing. Doctor Cail Liam Mahlr'D, retired physician, respected scholar and curator of Conclave, beloved friend and kind heart to so many, grasped a stick of graphite in one hand. As a child might with colorful stick of chalk or wax, he drug it across the sheet of paper while he mumbled softly to himself.

What has happened? She asked herself, watching the rather heartbreaking scene unfold before her. When she'd left he was himself. Tired and drawn, but coherent. Lucid. Burying her shock, Sadie forced a slow silent step forward toward his desk. She peered down at the page of what appeared to be scribbles, watching his action closely.

"Tana." He mumbled. One of the only words she could make out of his ramblings. "Tana. Tana. Tana." Her jabbered. He chuckled to himself quietly, then hushed nobody in particular. "Shh. Nonono. They'll hear you, Bixi." He whispered harshly. "Shh."

Glancing up casually the old gnome's eyes drifted over Sadie's shadowed figure a moment. "Ahhh..." He whispered to her, raising a silencing finger to his own lips. "Shh. What message do you bring me? Shh."

Sadie pushed back her hood. She fought to steel the fear and sadness in her own eyes. "Doctoc Mahlr'D." She spoke softly. "I've come with news from Dalaran." The old gnome's gaze drifted aimlessly over her figure, almost as if he were looking into an entirely different plane of existence.

"Ohhh. Shh." He hushed. "Dalaran. Nonono, Dalderdan. Dal dandy." He snickered then hushed no one in particular and jabbered incoherently.

"Alieth Taldir. The Red Mage." She insisted softly. The old gnome paused his scribbling. A moment of lucidness returned. He gazed up at her through a glassy eyed haze.

"What about her?" He grumbled.

"She's dead, Ducky." She whispered. "She's gone." Cail blinked up at the woman. His eyes slowly widened. Fear stricken and full of tears the old gnome pulled away protectively.

"Dead dead dead." He repeated. His moment of coherent thought washed away by some kind of madness. "No-no. She's not dead. They're not dead." He gripped the wild gray hair at his temples. "They can't be. Not all of them. Why?" He groaned.

In a blink Sadie was kneeling by his chair. She gently touched his arm. "Cail. Come with me. Let me put you to rest."

Cail jumped at her touch. He turned sharply and at seeing her eyes he pushed backward and began to howl the most horrifying scream. Sadie recoiled at first, fearful his screams would draw in the guard outside his door, see her there, and think she were trying to hurt him. When no one immediately entered she stepped around his chair trying desperately to comfort him.

"Cail. It's Sadie. You remember me. You're alright." She gently pulled the old gnome into her arms and stroked the back of his head, cooing softly as a mother might her child. Cail's terror gradually eased into a soft sob.

"Sadie?" He whimpered. "I'm-I'm not doing so well, Sadie. I-I ran out of m-medication."

"Come, Ducky. Lets lay you down." She eased the old gnome out of his chair and gently rolled him into his cot. Cool to the touch and drenched in sweat she nevertheless pulled his blanket up around his shoulders. She summoned a small magical lantern to hover above his bed, emitting a soft blue glow crafted to ease a sore body and troubled mind. With a gesture she snuffed the candles. A few moments later and the old gnome began to snore quietly.

Sadie stood at his bed side for several minutes more, asking all the troubled questions of what had happened in her absence. Turning finally from the resting gnome, she stooped over his desk. Tenderly lifting each page of scribbles in her hands Sadie poured over them as she tried to recall his ramblings from earlier.

Chants? His ravings sounds almost as if they were a sort of chanting. She dismissed the notion out of hand.

The markings covered several pages. Lines, shapes, symbols, words, and numbers. It was all largely illegible at first glance. Blinking her eyes she called upon her arcane brilliance and refocused her gaze. Now I see it. Everything is either gnomish or binary. What little I can read at least. The text made little sense other than to appear as a list of names, dated, locations, and an occasional confused confession of guilt and apology.

What troubles you so, little gnome?

The lines, shapes, and other scribbles almost took the appearance of spell formula. That couldn't be however. She knew Cail's history very well. His recent history at least. Not once has he ever shown any interest much less aptitude in magic.

Folding the papers in half she decided to look further into the matter. She would need to alert Genevra of course, if she hasn't already been appraised of the doctors' condition.

Turning back one last time to the sleeping gnome, she watch him sleep. Thin wisps of shadow still gently drifted across his features. His shroud of shadows was still present, though faintly so. Sadie squinted with a brief troubling thought.

In a blink Sadie was gone from the room. The few loose papers on Cail's desk fluttered lightly at her exit.

The day after her discussion with Genevra about the old gnome's deteriorating mental health, Sadie Kyla Brooks, Magus-Scholar of Conclave, returned to Cail around mid day. Grateful to find him more (though ultimately still less) lucid than last she found him the mage began coaxing the old gnome into taking a vacation.

"You are going to love it, Ducky." She said with an empathetic twinkle in her green eyes. "I'm really rather envious of you. The water is so clear and the fishing in the cove is likely the best throughout the coasts of Pandaria." She gestured, calling a few articles of Cail's clothing to her at once. Another gesture had them folded and placed within a thick duffel sack. Cail nodded his head. He slowly finished buttoning up his red flannel shirt as he listened.

"And if you bore of sea life there are plenty of rivers, streams, and ponds to find throughout the Jade Forests."

"Yes-yes, you keep repeating yourself. Why do you keep repeating yourself?" Cail meandered around his office/living space. His long gray hair even more disheveled than usual, he looked confused bordering on paranoid. He watched more of his personal clothing sail across the room. In a fit he reached to snatch a sock out of the air but just missed.

"Why are you packing for me?" He asked agitated. "I'm grown-huge gnome. I can pack my own costrim!" Stumbling a little, the old gnome pulled one leg after the other into his blue bib overalls and pulled the straps over each shoulder.

"I'm helping you pack, Ducky, because we're going on a vacation." She smiled sweetly. Cail planted his fists on his hips defiantly like a child. When he saw his protest had no effect on her, he huffed and began pulling on his thick wader boots.

"Where do you think you're taking me? I'm not going anywhere with you. I hardly know you, rune-strange."

"Ohh, don't play coy with me doctor." She gave the old gnome a flirting glance as she hoisted his bag over a shoulder. "You've known me well for a while now. What better way to cement our friendship buy sharing a rod and reel?"

"Hah!" He waved his hands in the air. "[ You don't know me at all! You'll not be touching my rods! ]" He yelled, suddenly switching to gnomish. Sadie responded in kind as the old gnome pulled his old favorite fishing hat angrily onto his head.

"[ Then maybe you have a few fishy tales you can share with me. ]" The flirting twinkle in her eye never diminished as she moved toward the door.

Cail eyed her for a long moment. His defiant demeanor suddenly shifted to an easy acceptance, as if he'd planned on going all along. "Sadie. Dearest. If you wanted to go fishing all you had to do was ask!" Sadies patient facade wavered slightly at his casual comment. "I'll be right with you. Just let an old gnome fetch his favorite fishing hat."

"Ducky." She said calmly, shifting her weight to one hip. "You're wearing it."

Cail felt his head. "Oh-ho! Sure enough!" Flannel shirt. Blue bib-overalls. Thick wader boots. He was already dressed. "My-my. How did that happen?"

Sadie waggled her fingers. "Magic." She whispered playfully. Cail chuckled.

He drew near and before any more conversation could be had on the matter the Magus uttered a short incantation and placed a hand on the old gnome's shoulder. In an instant the pair were gone from the room, leaving nothing in their wake but the shifting of papers and dust.

Cail's exit had been long over due. The stress of his position coupled with recent drama surrounding Genevra's supposed death and the threat posed by the (now deceased) Red Mage only served to thrust him farther off the hinges. His efforts to understand and solve the conundrum of his own issue of shadow only made matters worse. He'd made more headway than anyone could have realized at the time, and his sanity was unraveling because of it.

Still, Sadie couldn't help but wonder if something more insidious was afoot. She felt perhaps she was being a little paranoid herself, or at the least overly cautious... but the feeling was hard to shake. She was no master of the shadow arts, but she was certainly schooled and experienced enough with the arcane to identify magical spell forms when she saw them. She understood their various complexities and nuances, to a point. With little else to go on however, she would simply have to wait and see.