One night, not too long ago, a red-cloaked, shady figure of a woman slowly made its way from Goldshire to Stormwind, avoiding the watchful stares of the human guards. The woman stayed out of the way of the people still walking the great metropolis, and few even let a glare upon her. It was painfully obvious she did not know the city well; she emerged from the Mage Quarter out into the ruins of the Park-or what was left of the Ruins. Wrapping back around, the woman walked east towards the Cathedral District, and ducked into a short passage into an enclosed space.
When the woman revealed her face to a large hulking figure of a worgen, it became clear why she had avoided the light and covered her face. She was no human at all, in the public eye, but an undead Forsaken wandering the streets.
“Enuroa? Are you fricken’ serious, Aorune?” the woman said, avoiding a great yell that would alert soldiers.
The worgen lowered his ears, sighing. “Well, Judiel, you can’t expect a Paladin and mage to be too much of an espionage expert.” A strange glint in the air showed his golden armor and bastard sword.
Judiel shook her head, not amused. “What has to be d-done, Rune?” she asked, looking up. For a Forsaken, she seemed quite new to death, her face not nearly as rotted as some of her older kind.
Aorune glanced outside through the opening, checking for listeners. “How has your recruitment for the Counter-Council, gone, Judiel?”
The Forsaken looked down at a notepad she had carried along with her. “While you know about Drakehide, among a few others from my people, one…You may not wa-want.”
Aorune growled. “I heard. How the hell do you expect me to allow in a member of the Modas?”
Judiel grimaced. “She is one of the better of her kind, and she also has a hatred for Gondorin, although arguably more fueled than yours. We need strong men and women for when the espionage fails, Rune, and Aethelglyth would do nicely to fit that,” she explained.
Aorune thought long and hard, eventually leaning on the tree in the middle of the space. “I would like to talk with her, in Ratchet. I will follow you there.”
Judiel nodded, a few strings of hair falling out of place and swinging over her right eye for a moment. “Now, I have the papers. Should you need them, you might more accurately portray yourself as a drunk from Booty Bay,” she informed, chuckling while handing over said papers.
“I apologize for making you come here, Judiel. While I wish I was in Lordneas, I’ve business to do here and won’t be able to go back for a while. It is best you go, for when dawn comes you won’t be able to conceal yourself so easily,” Aorune said, saluting with a clenched fist over his heart. “Light be with you.”
Judiel smiled, returning the gesture. “May the Light bless your body, mind, and heart.”
And again a cloaked figure slowly made its way to its destination.
When the woman revealed her face to a large hulking figure of a worgen, it became clear why she had avoided the light and covered her face. She was no human at all, in the public eye, but an undead Forsaken wandering the streets.
“Enuroa? Are you fricken’ serious, Aorune?” the woman said, avoiding a great yell that would alert soldiers.
The worgen lowered his ears, sighing. “Well, Judiel, you can’t expect a Paladin and mage to be too much of an espionage expert.” A strange glint in the air showed his golden armor and bastard sword.
Judiel shook her head, not amused. “What has to be d-done, Rune?” she asked, looking up. For a Forsaken, she seemed quite new to death, her face not nearly as rotted as some of her older kind.
Aorune glanced outside through the opening, checking for listeners. “How has your recruitment for the Counter-Council, gone, Judiel?”
The Forsaken looked down at a notepad she had carried along with her. “While you know about Drakehide, among a few others from my people, one…You may not wa-want.”
Aorune growled. “I heard. How the hell do you expect me to allow in a member of the Modas?”
Judiel grimaced. “She is one of the better of her kind, and she also has a hatred for Gondorin, although arguably more fueled than yours. We need strong men and women for when the espionage fails, Rune, and Aethelglyth would do nicely to fit that,” she explained.
Aorune thought long and hard, eventually leaning on the tree in the middle of the space. “I would like to talk with her, in Ratchet. I will follow you there.”
Judiel nodded, a few strings of hair falling out of place and swinging over her right eye for a moment. “Now, I have the papers. Should you need them, you might more accurately portray yourself as a drunk from Booty Bay,” she informed, chuckling while handing over said papers.
“I apologize for making you come here, Judiel. While I wish I was in Lordneas, I’ve business to do here and won’t be able to go back for a while. It is best you go, for when dawn comes you won’t be able to conceal yourself so easily,” Aorune said, saluting with a clenched fist over his heart. “Light be with you.”
Judiel smiled, returning the gesture. “May the Light bless your body, mind, and heart.”
And again a cloaked figure slowly made its way to its destination.
