World of Warcraft®

((Nice addition Finnaeus ))

Furious alarm clanged loud at the gate, drawing every soldier to position. Gentyl strapped on her sword and raced to entrance where a crowd of men surrounded something lying on the ground. They opened a path for her when someone yelled make way. She looked up to the gate house tops to the sentries, but they gave no sign or cry of warning.

There, in the center of the men was a ghoul that had been hacked to pieces. One of the men held out an ichor-covered note. "We wondered why he was fighting with one arm. Whoever sent him must have ordered him to keep the note safe at all costs."

"Any injuries?"

"A few minor ones," he replied. "Nothing serious."

"They're all serious when they come from these abominations. Get the physicians to clean them well and bind them." She unrolled the note and read it.

" Meshqa has not been freed. Your actions have lead to consequence. Attacks are due upon posts of your forces. If harm befalls Meshqa slaughter of innocents will follow."

On the back of the letter was a large black hand print. Why was the Black Hand so interested in him? What did a slaver and !@#$% monger have to offer them? She rolled the parchment up and stared at the remains. Did they know Meshqa was here? They had to guess. Either way, they knew who had him. The cell where he was being held had been damaged by Cyrus' rampage. A well aimed bomb might well spring their prey and she wasn't about to let him go. At least not yet. Not until their intelligence reports were in regarding the numbers of slaves he held. They might trade him for the women and then assassinate the goblin later, but she had no intentions of just letting him go.

"Take that thing out and burn it," she said. "Prepare to move out a heavily armed patrol by nightfall."

(Thank you, Astaraa and Finn. Wonderful as always.)

The Regent Saldor Tenwit of the bloody Tenth Legion was supposed to meet Gentyl in the Recluse to discuss transfer of the prisoner. There were still several who were all for killing him on the spot and being done with it, however, Gentyl wanted to trade him for as many women as she could and then quickly hunt him down and dispatch him.

Mataa, one of the girls they had rescued when they took Meshqa prisoner, sat in the Recluse with Gentyl, her gaze downcast as always. She leaned forward on the table. "S-so d-do you h-have t-the g-goblin, or d-does T-tenwit?"

"We are transferring him tonight," Gentyl said after looking around the inn to make sure it was empty.

The girl stare at the wood intently and then mumbled without looking up. "C-could I s-see h-him b-before you d-do?"

"He's being held at...a safe place, but yes. May I ask why you want to see him?"

"It's h-hard t-to explain. I n-need t-to s-see t-that h-he c-can't h-hurt anyone else."

Gentyl frowned a bit and squeezed another lemon wedge into her tea. "I don't think Faithe has even gone to see him. If you think it will help you heal, you're welcome, of course."

Mataa looked up, her eyes wide. "F-Faithe?"

"The Guard he bought. One of my men."

Mataa blinked several times. "B-bought? H-he b-bribed one of y-your m-men?"

"When someone takes their vows with us they are called men even though they may be women. Faithe is one of my priests. An orc captured her and sold her to Meshqa."

She nodded. "I've h-heard of h-her, t-though I n-never s-saw h-her."

Gentyl set her cup down in surprise. "What did you hear?"

"T-that s-she g-got away. And t-that she w-was M-meshqa's f-favorite." Mataa closed her eyes and shuddered.

"She did get away. We rescued her."

"L-like y-you d-did us."

"Aye."

The draenei fingered her cup tracing her finger up and down the handle as a frown creased her brow. Finally she asked, "Is s-she ok?"
Gentyl smiled softly, offering reassurance and comfort where there was none. "Yes, she's quiet, but healing. I think anyway. She doesn't talk much."

"Y-you s-should h-have h-her t-talk t-to the d-dwarf. S-she's a g-good l-listener, and s-she d-doesn't j-judge."

Gentyl sipped her tea. Not to judge. Did it make any difference that no one else judged Faithe when she had already judged and found herself guilty. "That may help," she replied. "She hasn't spoken about what happened."

"I d-don't b-blame h-her."

"Nor I."

Mataa stood up and gave Gentyl a small, awkward bow. "I've g-got t-to g-go. It's t-time f-for t-the g-girls t-to eat."

"Yes, ma'am. I will come by soon."

"I'll t-tell K-Kaellar."

The Regent Tenwit sauntered in shortly after Mataa left. He was, as usual, immaculately dressed with a sumptuous royal blue brocade vest/ Across his stomach was a heavy gold watch chain with a glittering, jewel encrusted fob dangling from his watch pocket. He bowed deeply. "I think you messaged me about an meeting ms Gen? Should I arrange our normal...meeting spot?"

Gentyl frowned. What the deuce was he talking about. "Normal meeting?"

Tenwit waved it off in dismissal. "Elwynn, I was thinking, where you showed me that glorious view of the falls."

"Ummm, no that wasn't me. You persist in spreading rumors about me meeting you in secluded places. Desist. There is a reason I prefer public areas."

The gnome looked dismayed. "Was it not? Fie, my mind is softer by the season." He looked her up and down and then smiled slightly. "Lovely landscape. I think it's custom among your folk that I press your hand with a kiss, Lady. I dare not shirk custom."

"That's very kind." She extended her hand a bit, anxious to be on with the business.

He bent to kiss her hand and lingered to offer a tender nibble before she gasped and jerked her hand away.

Tenwit poured a glass of wine, spilling it over, drank half and filled it once more. "As requested, I am present. Let the thinkery commence. Of what service can I be?"

Gentyl stared at the gnome as he drained another glass of wine. "I need you to hold the goblin."

"I see no goblin to hold," he remarked as he dabbed at his mouth with a monogrammed handkerchief.

Taelanas joined them and huffed. "Little, if that us your usual method of drink consumption."

Tenwit waved the handkerchief. "Fie, I have a prodigious capacity for spirits, paladin." he turned back to Gentyl. "The Tenth Tower is prepared, my Lady."

She leaned forward. "The Commander says your tower is impregnable."

Tenwit looked away from Gentyl, as if he hadn't heard her. "Taelanas, have you trimmed your beard?"

"Aye, it grew too long in my sick rest."

"A good look for you, sir." He at last turned his attention back to Gentyl. "Commander?"

"Turncutt," she responded, irritated that he continued to ignore her husband.

He gasped in surprise. "Turncutt? The dotard yet lives?"

Gentyl glared at him. "He is alive and well, thank you."

Taelanas scowled. "I should think so."

Tenwit cut a lime and offered a wedge to Taelanas and Gentyl.

"I am not taking tea at the moment sir, thank you," Taelanas said.

Gentyl ignored the lime which was said to be good for the romantic humours. "I wonder about your forces."

"Well, dear Gen," the gnome said, sucking on a lime and gazing at her, "how deep is your concern? If you have another prison for your goblin, I will not stand in your way." He broke the appraisal and looked to Taelanas. "I am suspicious of a man who will not drink wine. Or eat limes."

Gentyl shook her head. "No, I'm sure it will do fine. Do you need more men, though?"

Taelanas snorted. "I drink wine, when business is not being conducted."

Tenwit picked up another lime and raised it to his lisp slowly. "Aye, send me Fallenrose and Rinhold, my stomach laments the loss of Rin more than I can say. And Rose, we know her worth when someone needs cooked."

Gentyl stiffened, aware Tenwit was still stinging about the loss of Fallenrose and Rinhold who had followed the commander to Pia. "I regret to say they are assigned elsewhere."

He tossed the spent lime rind on the table. "Fie, then who? As I recall, the rest of your people are more suited for the parlor, or diplomacy. I certainly don't want the dotard."

"My men are all well versed in war. sir," she replied, refusing to rise to his bait.

He poured another glass of wine. "Very well. I will take a dozen."

"A dozen?"

"I should say, if you only mean to send me bubble men, I would prefer your best women. If not a dozen, six, I only deal in measures of six." He stopped his explanation of numbers and began another careful appraisal when Erelyn walked in. "Oh my...she can come.

"I can send six good men," Gentyl said.

Tenwit frowned. "Men." He smiled widely at Ereyln, "Pleased to meet m'lady, I am Tenwit, Lord of the Tenth Legion."

"Erelyn," she responded, bowing slightly.

"Erelyn, it is, lest I someday become... some--" He trailed off lost in some fantasy Gentyl preferred not to think about.

Crayauchtin stopped near the table. "What are we sending men to do, Sepha?"

Tenwit blinked at Crayauchtin. "Gods, all your men shine like the rising sun, Gentyl."

Crayauchtin nodded politely to Tenwit. "Regent."

Taelanas laughed. "We do not hide on the field, to be sure."

Ronnad, who had stood quietly at guard all this time snorted. "Sendin' lads tae guard th' little snot demon."

"Guard Meshqa at the Tenth Tower," Gentyl replied. She frowned when Tenwit poured Cray a glass of wine. The Regent knew Cray didn't drink.

Crayauchtin eyed the wine, glancing quickly at Gentyl and Taelanas.

"A dozen or a half, what is it, Lady? Either way, it will stress my ledger, indeed." He looked anxious as he began to calculate the costs of housing the men.

"A quarter, to ease your stress," Taelanas offered.

Erelyn looked at Taelanas. "Is the small man a friend of yours?"

"An acquaintance."

Tenwit waved to the newcomers. "Cray, Erelyn, take a chair, put your boots up."

"Six men should suffice," Gentyl replied. "We will pay their expenses."

"Aye, expensive, yes, is that what you asked, m'lady?"

Taelanas nodded at Erelyn, "Take a seat."

Tenwit frowned with disappointment at his winterspring cub and prodded it with his staff to move it off the chair so Erelyn could sit next to him.

Crayauchtin stared at the glass of wine in front of him, as Tenwit poured another glass for Ronnad.

"Now you look like someone who's not shy on the battlefield," Tenwit said to Ronnad and handed her the wine. He smiled at Gentyl. "I owe you an apology, ms Gen, your host is strong these days."

Ronnad glanced at the wine dubiously. "Er, thank ye kindly Sir and not a bit shy."

Tenwit frowned with disappointment at Joachim Brenlow. "Now if he would open his pockets for a minstrel, the taps would be flowing."

"Minstrels may come and go as they please, though I will tell Z," Taelanas said.

"So, when do I get my goblin?"

"We'd like to move him tonight, sir. If you're prepared."

"Ah, perfect. Have we any sense how long I'm to hold this creature?"

Taelanas frowned. "Your goblin?"

"Only until we can arrange a trial," Gentyl said. "No more than two weeks certainly."
The gnome smiled and nodded. "Am I given liberty with this goblin? I could mine a little information from him, if you please."

"If you like," Gentyl replied, not really wanting to know how he intended to glean the intelligence.

"How would you be extracting that information?" Cary asked.

Tenwit puffed with pride. "I am a hand with phrenology, as you know, and if it requires a more intimate scrutiny, I can certainly go there as well."

"I didn't realize you could learn anything of value from that."

"Oh, Cray," Tenwit exclaimed, "the body tells all the secrets of the soul! I will extract all the little slaver has ever known, or desired."

"All due respect Regent," Ronnad said, "ye sure ye wan' tae know th' little snotball's desires?"

"Aye, I am a student of such things."

Mira walked in with a gryphon hatchling at her heels and saluted.

Tenwit smiled warmly, once again admiring the landscape. "A fine little hatchling there, m'lady. A rare feather, indeed. Would you sell?"

Mira looked startled, then picks up the hatchling gently. "I ... I don't know if he'd take to another owner, sir. And I'm rather fond of him."

"Very well, should you ever change your mind." Tenwit smiled reassuringly.

Gentyl narrowed her eyes. She'd hear rumors the regent enjoyed fighting game animals.

She bowed. "Of course, Mister ....?"

"Tenwit, Lord of the Tenth Legion, 'tis a pleasure, a pleasure indeed. Take my chair, Lady Mira, I will swing from the rafter if needed."

"Tenwit is the Regent of the Bloody Tenth Legion," Gentyl said.

"Bloody?"

"The Tenth has a rich tradition in war," Gentyl explained.

Mira sketched a deep bow to Tenwit. "Sepha Gentyl has spoken highly of you, and often. It's truly a pleasure." She smiled. "But you don't have to stand just for me..." She set the hatchling on the floor once again, where it wandered toward Ronnad.

Ronnad smiled and crouched down, holding out a hand.

Mira reluctantly slipped into the chair as the silence stretchedd on. "... Very well, then, sir. I hope I didn't interrupt anything, though."

Ronnad looked up at Tenwit. "Ye can have my seat Regent. 'm no' usin' it."

"And Ron may have mine," Erelyn said

Taelanas looked about. "Is this some game?"

"Such a mannered company," Tenwit said.

Ronnad shook her head. "No, thank ye lass."

Mira watched the hatchling nip at Ronnad's fingers. "Some call it 'musical chairs'... at least the children do."

Erelyn gave Ron a quiet "I'm bigger than you and I will sit you down" look.

Ronnad set a stubborn look on her face and crossed her arms.

"There's usually music for that game, Mira. Or so the orphans tell me," Cray said.

"Then I should get my guitar?" Mira asked.

"Only if we continue playing it," Cray responded.

"Yes! Yes! Play us a measure." Tenwit's eyes sparkled with excitement.

Mira smiled. "I'd be glad to, sir. Perhaps you'll be in Hearthglen soon?"

Erelyn reached down and hooked her hands into Ron's shoulder guards, lifting her up and setting her in the chair with a grin. "Just so you know I can," she whispered.

Ronnad yelped as she connected with the seat and shot a glare in Eri's direction, before quickly standing.

Taelanas held his hand up in warning. "Dont, ever, lift a dwarf Erelyn. It is considered quite rude."

Tenwit nodded. "How can I decline your invitation, Lady Mira? Of course."
"I look forward to it."

Tenwit poured Mira a glass of wine. "I suppose you know, Mira, that the brigands will use hatchlings like yours to fight, for sport. Keep an eye on that one."

Mira sipped at her glass, raising her eyebrows at the surprisingly good taste. "Anyone who touched him would have to deal with my wrath."

Tenwit nodded. "Of course, and as your friend, my wrath as well, but those brigands haven't two coppers worth of sense."

Mira smiled wickedly. "The Element of Fire can prepare food... or burn a thief."

Crayauchtin finally gave up staring at his glass of wine, lifted it hesitantly... then replaced it, untasted, on the table.

"Ye wan' some tea, Sir Cray?" Ronnad asked.

"No."

Tenwit glanced at Taelanas. "It is fine vintage. Pray, sir, begin with a sip."

"Is business concluded Sepha?" Taelanas asked.

Erelyn rested her elbows on the back of Taelanas's chair.

"Aye sir," Gentyl replied. "Regent do you require anything aside from the men and supplies?"

"Only a retainer, m'lady."

"How much of a retainer?"

Crayauchtin nodded to the Regent and sipped the wine tenderly. His eyes closed as he savored the taste and then he stood up hastily and begged dismissal.

Mira shifted in her seat and frowned in worry at Cray.

Taelanas nodded. "Well, Regent, it seems I am available for a glass, pray, pass the stuff."

Tenwit smiled genially and passed the bottle

Ronnad took another sip of the wine and set it down on the table, eyeing Eri.

Erelyn crooked a brow, looking back at Ronnad with a feisty smile. "Arright."

Taelanas poured himself a glass and sets it aside.

"This wine is excellent, sir. I don't often partake, but I quite like this." Mira smiled and took another sip.

Tenwit smiled back, "I will see that a cask or two is rolled to Hearthglen."

"That's very kind of you," Gentyl said.

Taelanas rolled his glass and took in the bouquet.

Tenwit grinned wickedly at Taelanas. "Embrace it, sir. I believe the g%@@# speaks to you."

Gentyl watched the two men enjoying their wine. She took out a jeweled dagger and sliced a lemon into four precise wedges.

Mira lifted the gryphon onto her lap, where it promptly falls asleep. "I'm Mira," she said, realizing that she'd forgotten to introduce herself.

Gentyl squeezed a wedge of lemon into her tea, pondering what they would do next. They had to buy time while her ghosts were searching for information about how many women Meshqa held.

"You should try some, Gen. It finishes well."

"I'm afraid I never really acquired a taste for wine," Gentyl replied to the Regent.

"But, Sepha, you do seem to have a taste for lemons." Mira indicated the three remaining wedges.

"Aye, I do."

Mira looked curious then. "Is there a reason you always cut your lemons like that?"

Gentyl looked up from wiping the blade. "I like order, I suppose and I like the same amount of lemon in each cup."

Taelanas looked puzzled. "Is there a reason to but them any other way?"

"The Regent is convinced limes improve the romantic humours while lemon is for the warlike humours."

Ronnad eyed the lemon. "Warlike humours, eh?"

Gentyl nodded. "So he says."

Tenwit nodded in agreement. "I find the limes invigorate the romantic humours, enliven the senses and--"

"Aye, well, I will stick with my lemons."

Tenwit winked. "I could offer you some limes for the dotard if you wish, Miss Gen."

"He needs no limes, but thank you. I am content with my lemons."

Mira considered this. "Then we're off to battle soon, Sepha?"

Erelyn agreed. "Yeh. They'd make me grumpy enough to fight."

"I'm not sure what you think you're going to learn about Meshqa by examining the bumps on his skull, but whatever. We will move him tonight."

Tenwit smiled. "By your leave, Lady. I look forward to receiving our guest." He straightened his vest and hopped down from his chair. Sauntering out in fine humor.

"I can put more bumps on the skull if he needs more of them to read," Erelyn offered.

"That's what I wonder. Does it change the reading if the bumps are recent additions."

Erelyn smiled. "In the name of science, Sepha ...."

"In the name of science, Erelyn."

And what in the name of justice? How long before they served the monster up to the gallows and let him dance in the wind?

Gentyl had allowed her to move back into her room near the top of the tower after they captured Meshqa. She thought the capture would ease Faithe's mind or perhaps she simply believed the quiet motions Faithe went through on a daily basis were an indication of normality. Faithe did all the things she was supposed to do. She bathed and brushed her hair. Her clothes were always neat and clean. She ate without being prompted to, but the appetite still remained missing. The act of eating was simply something to keep people from fussing over her. She tended her plants with Turrick and made her compounds and potions.

She smiled. She laughed at jokes when she heard them or comprehended them. More and more frequently her body did all the right things while her mind escaped to a void where she didn't have to think, or feel...or remember. Those were the golden moments when the void called more and more frequently.

And she always answered the call.

She sat at the window seat, brushing out her hair with a wooden hog bristle brush. Her eyes closed in pleasure as she let it caress her scalp. Meshqa had enjoyed brushing her hair. He crooned and told her how he loved her silver locks as he did so. Once she had woken up from a beating, both eyes swollen shut, to find him brushing her hair and stroking it gently with his hand. He worked the brush tenderly through the dried blood matting her hair as if he was afraid of pulling it and hurting her.

A sigh escaped unbidden and she frowned with disappointment. Sighs had been stifled when she caught people looking at her with concern. "No, sighing," she reminded herself.

She had thrown all her brushes away when she returned and only used combs. The return to a brush had been a small act of defiance against Meshqa. She was determined not to let him keep stealing her life away.

He was in the keep now. She hadn't gone to look at him, but they were moving him soon. If she was going to face the demon, it must be today.

As soon as she finished brushing her hair, she dressed in the simple white robe with pale blue embroidery she preferred. How dare she wear white, her mind chided. It was the color of purity and innocence. The dungeon was damp and dirty. It would be difficult to clean her white robes, so she put on a somber dark brown one instead.

Taliea nodded at her when she approached the stairs to the dungeon. "'ello, Faithe. Goin' to see the gob?"

Faithe nodded. "If I'm permitted."

"Course. Sepha said you migh' wan' ta see 'im."

She went down the stairs slowly. Meshqa was in the first cell. The torch on the opposite wall cast her shadow toward him as if she were reaching out to him. He was lying on a cot, his eyes closed when her shadow crossed his face.

His eyes snapped open and he looked toward her. His smile spread quickly, torchlight glinting off his gold teeth. "Dove. I knew you'd come. Even though you don't want to admit it, you know in your heart we belong together."

"I know no such thing," she whispered, revulsion gripping her.

He stood up and straightened his rumpled clothes, then walked toward her as if there were no bars separating them. She backed up involuntarily, until he stopped at the cell door.

"Do you see what those ruffians did?" He put his hand to a gash on his scalp. "Twas only from sheer superior reflexes they didn't take my head. Reflexes and divine providence. Even the gods know we are meant to be together. Even the gods, love."

His eyes glittered with desire while his long, slender fingers caressed the bars, his eyes locked on hers. She shivered, unable to break the gaze.

"Even you know the truth," he said. "You belong with me. By my side as you are in my heart." He licked his lips slowly. "I will never stop looking for you and your friends cannot hold me. Return with me willingly and I will not seek vengeance on them. You know the truth. You know you can't escape. Save your friends and take your rightful place at my side."

She fled up the stairs, her robes flying behind her. She didn't stop running until she reached her room. Her breath came in frightened gasps. He was right. She would never escape. She tore the robe off and flung it across the room unwilling to suffer even the slightest trace of his presence. Tears of frustration and anger streaked down her face as she jerked the white robe on and collapsed onto her bed. At last, spent and weary she rose and walked over to the window.

"Even the gods know..." She crawled up into the window and stood, her arms outstretched. A cool night breeze pressed the cloth against her, fluttering slightly. Her eyes closed. Even the gods know. He was right, she would never escape.

In the distance she heard a forlorn howl. Turrick. He was calling a pack. A pack he longed for, but never found.

The mournful song faded. She stepped forward into the night air. Her robe whipped about her as she fell. Then, at the last moment her eyes snapped open and she whispered words of levitation.

"Coward."

(( Great additions Gentyl and Faithe))

Mira sat on a green hillside just west of Eastvale Logging Camp, lost in thought. She'd been posted there by the Holy Guard, tasked with helping the women rescued from Meshqa's clutches. Many of them were still afraid, but a few had started to get used to her.

She picked at the strings on the guitar, noticing that it needed a little bit of tuning. Bit by bit, Mira tuned her instrument. Then, she began to idly pick out a melody of sorts, the notes drifting on the wind.

It wasn't long before she spotted Kaellar, the death knight who'd given shelter to the rescued women, making his way toward the hillside where she sat. She smiled; it was good to see him, and good to have a short respite from her work.

"How are they?" Kaellar winced just slightly as he settled next to her, sighing.

"They do well," said Mira, her fingers picking out a slightly more hopeful melody on the guitar. "They're still afraid, but they seem to like music. Music has ... a healing touch." Mira smiled slowly, looking up at the big death knight. "Haven't you ever sat by the fire on a cold night, listening to the minstrels play?"

It was some minutes before Kaellar replied, and when he did it was with a heavy sigh.

"Mira," he said, "you forget. I don't feel the cold like you do." He shifted a little, wincing as his stiff leg protested the movement. "But," he added quickly as Mira looked distressed, "I do find the fire comforting all the same. And you play so well..." He added a gentle smile. "They listen to you practice, you know," he said. "They sneak around the corner and hide just out of sight."

"Really?" Mira's idle playing paused.

"Really." Kaellar nodded at her. "Don't let them know you know."

Mira nodded, then paused, an impish look coming into her eye. "Tell them what?"

Kaellar laughed. "Exactly."

hey, I am Vusin as well, from Spinebreaker (PvP)!!