World of Warcraft®

What would it take to make Liore sit up and take notice? A murder? No, too obvious...she was not even going to kill the old lady to take her job, just encourage her to retire...something she could do easily without harm.

An artifact found? Maybe part of one...something linked to the Old Gods rumored to be imprisoned under the ruins of Lorderon. She needed something authentic however. Wracking her brains she tried to remember what it was that the Royal Library had stored the last time she had attended a lecture. Everything they had was under tight security, however. She might have to actually find something.

Vaguely she recalled her old friend Malak'Jin and his tales of the trolls who lived here before the Sindorei moved in to the area. Maybe he would help her to find something to set the ball rolling. He knew so many of the old legends. He knew how much she wanted revenge. He would help her, she just needed to get started on this project...

The close of business for the day brought all the clerks out as they chattered and planned to go home and do their mundane things. The elderly elf was the last to leave, and Lindi followed her. To her surprise it did not take long at all for her to convince the poor woman that the City did not pay her enough to waste the rest of her years in such a demeaning job. Lindi was set, all she had to do was show up the next day, checking back on a job contact. The old woman assured her the job would be handed to her. Not many took time to apply for civil jobs.

Lindi went home and began planning her next move. She changed back to her leathers and paid a visit to Malak'Jin and got a chuckle and a plan formulated. The Reliquarry was about to be handed a piece of a puzzle that might shake the City, in fact both cities, as it involved Undercity as well.

Koudo woke to a rooster calling in the distance. She rolled over, still feeling exhausted. This was the first time she had slept since her final talk with Trenetir. Thoughts rushed into her head. She knew it was possible that she may see him again, but she had been ill prepared for his words. He had spoken of forgiveness and the feelings they both had had for each other. More than twice she had seen sincere and genuine honesty in his face. She had seen the man under the hardened shell. His pleading haunted her. In their parting she could see the desperation and beseeching in his eyes. In the end she had turned her back, there was no returning now. Her morals and his own actions drove her to her final decision.

Rising she began preparing for the day. This would be her first day working at the Ratchet office. Its location was far better than Booty Bay, allowing her quicker response to the areas where her shield would be most needed.

She looked into the mirror and cursed quietly as a tear rolled down her cheek. Time she thought, in time the pain would go away. She had to believe that.

Auraelith knew how tenuous dealings with Trenetir could be. She had set herself to maneuvering all of the necessary arrangements regarding the legalities, insufferable as each step was. Fortunately her new recruit, the paladin's own ex-secretary, Lindai, was proving herself to be quite a useful tool. The chestnut-haired sprite was to infiltrate the Hall of Records, forging the papers to bear the name Sir Trenetir Moradinel in place of his 'ailing' brother's, turning all rights and ownership of the family's inheritance over to the carpricious elf. A fraction of that inheritance would go to Aura, far less than she'd prefer, but siphoning an ally's assets was delicate business after all.

The Dark Mistress meandered peacefully outside of her cottage, the two servants who had remained to tend to her once she assumed the deed were bustling about with daily shores. Setting herself upon the intricate bench, she removed a notebook from the table next to her, flipping aimlessly through the pages littered in notes and scribbles. Who would have guessed a bit of equanimity could be so beautifully advantageous?

The morning was cool, a bit too cool considering the typical silk robe Aura wore, but should she have had an audience, the chill would only have exaggerated her allure as the cloth clung daringly to every fetching curve. She placed the notebook upon her stomach, stretching out upon the bench, sliding her hands through her satiny tressess. The insatiable mistress finally found herself entertained with current events as her allies fell in line one by one, each audaciously enrolling themselves in an unspoken war which she herself had begun- whether or not she had been given the choice.

Silently musing, her thoughts fell upon little rogue she was relying on, if only briefly. She knew of the elf's intentions regarding the immediate future and felt confident that despite her age, she would deny her youth enough to see her goals met before she second-guessed her current employer. A gamble to be sure, but Auraelith's accomplices knew well they need only ask for clarification at any given moment. A gamble sprinkled here or there only intensified the satisfaction found within the game, so why not? Perhaps the fickle mistress would honor them with a reply, perhaps she would deny them. In the end it all boiled down to what course of action persuaded the ideal outcome.

“I beg pardon, my Lady. Kirmaeve has sent word from the city.” Solanin shattered the silence, taking a knee aside the lounging Adonis, head dipped low as he handed her a perfectly folded white parchment bearing the Ebonveil seal.

Auraelith opened it, a mischievous grin slipping upon pale roseate lips. She read it, a slender hand reaching towards the prostrating elf, sliding beneath his chin, lifting it so his vivid gaze met hers as she spoke. The expression only widened as Solanin's cheeks flushed instantly. He gawked, shivering lightly beneath her venomous gaze, those ash-painted eyes of hers still so new to him, so grotesquely fascinating.

“Solanin, I am grateful. Send word to Sir Mordinel: He will have his papers this night.”

“It will be done, my Lady.”

It took Lindai all of an hour to do the work they assigned her. It was boring and dull, and her mind was elsewhere.

She spent the rest of her day wandering the Hall and getting familiar with the layout of the building. The records she wanted were easy to find. She had a brief moment of unease as one of the Inquisitors lackeys walked by the window, but he seemed preoccupied and did not see her.

She picked up the files and stuffed them into her satchel, getting all of the pertinent paperwork for adjusting. She had matched the ink and now only needed to redo the work. The room she chose was a workroom for study and she asked to use it to study for her accounting exams. The other clerks rolled their eyes and waved her off. None of them seemed interested in her queries about math.

She had finished her work and they seemed content to let her study in peace. Carefully stacking books and other paperwork handy in case someone got close, she set to work. It took her a good three hours to finish the documents. Signing the names as she had practiced and putting Sir Mordinel's name where it was necessary.

When she was done she carefully set the original paperwork in her satchel, along with the copy of her changed documents so he could see her professional work. Tomorrow she would replace the original documents with the changed ones, providing Trenetir approved of the changes Aura had suggested.

The afternoon was soon over and it was time to go home. She walked out with the others, chatting about how she might be able to ace her exam, since she had time to study that day. They all wished her luck and she made it to the meeting place that Aura had suggested. She sat in the garden and pulled out a book, careful to keep her satchel close. Her stomach growled and she hoped Aura would not be late. Pulling out an apple she had not eaten for lunch, she sat down and read her book.

Moving Day

All loose ends must be tied up lest the thing unravel completely. Tel'Andres was back in the custody of the Alliance, they would no doubt be unrelenting to the noble. Trenetir could not waste too much time thinking of the noble's fate. He had other things to attend to.

She was defiant, Elre Stormsong, the captive Terran. His original plans were amended, the dungeons would be cleared before the move to the new estate. And besides, how completely sweet would it be to kill several birds with one ruined Elre?

She put up a fight, her stubbornness earning her not only his hand but also his blade. He left her in a right state, and waited with the patience of someone who was not unfamiliar with pain himself.

Int he wee hours of the morning he returned to the cell, to find her pale, the blood ceased to flow from the large slash across her stomach. With relative ease he had her off the hook. She looked like hell: bruises adorning her face and form in addition to the large gash across her stomach.

A cloth was placed over her face, the drug inhaled even slightly would ensure that she would not wake.

The trip was difficult to say the least, but transporting was a specialty of his.

Time dragged on

The sea air saturated his senses as they arrived in Ratchet. He moved with purpose, the fallen elf on a steed that he led.

She was cast aside, like a ragdoll, on the steps of the AAMS' Ratchet Office. The following note upon her the contents sealed save the "To" line:

Delivery
To: The Terrans
From: The AAMS

Even those who are lost may be found again, though those who are neutral are never truly so. We're building a bridge, one job at a time, one task at a time, and in the end, will you want to cross it?

The darkness was his ally, there were none who saw him, and yet, he waited....waited to see the look on her face.

Koudo was exhausted to say the least. The long day in Gadgetzan had produced mind boggling questions that she was desperate to get answers for. She pushed aside the fatigue and hurried up to the steps of the office. She froze unable to move and her heart jumped in her chest. Standing for only a brief moment she rushed forward to the fallen woman. She was in bad shape, but Koudo could feel a pulse. Swinging her head around Koudo looked to see if anyone was around, but the streets were quiet, save for a dog barking in the distance. She knelt down and inelegantly lifted the woman, almost losing her balance twice as she clumsily entered the door. Laying her down on the bed she brought a blanket up to cover her. In doing so she noticed the sealed note with only the 'To' address revealed.

Her face scowled as she realized that someone had left this woman her as a delivery. She turned back to the open door in disbelief on. Who would do such a thing?

Looking back at the note she read the recipient, she took a large breath and brought up a chair next to the bed. She sat down and spoke to the unconscious woman “You aren’t going anywhere. They will have to come to us”

She had met with Lindai. The papers had all been expertly arranged and adjusted to suit Sir Moradinel's requests. Auraelith's cut of the estate was set in ink, permanently etched upon the finest parchment and well on their way back to the the Hall of Records via the little rogue herself.

Later that very evening, Trenetir had accepted the duplicate files from Lady Ebonveil with all the obtuse fervor of a child accepting candy form a stranger. Adding yet more flavor to the brew, she had even managed to nettle the imperious 'knight' as she left. Her typical advances had been rejected despite his palpable desire to succumb and like any true feline, Auraeltih had sashayed beyond the confines of his office with the man's pride tight within her claws once again. Oh how he must have hated her...how fun.

At this moment though, she had far greater things to focus her bedeviled mind upon. She had grown weary with the paladin's little games. He had proved himself utterly unworthy of his status and that alone merited her dissatisfaction. Aura had cast her choice Knight aside in favor of her own interests -as she had always done -yet he haunted her now. His Light, his conviction, prodded her venal soul.

You don't need that other one....he'll only hinder you.

You know you're lying to yourself, he was worthy for a year....perhaps he threatens you, Rehthaed...

A knife suddenly jammed itself into her skull, barbed and unforgiving. A hand instinctively clung to her temple as Auraelith dropped abruptly to her knees, trembling lightly as she realized the true nature of the anguish. Psychic threats had become something familiar, like intense migraines they were unpredictable and viciously jarring.

“My lady!” Kirmaeve stood aside the Mistress, anguished concern flooding her clear emerald eyes, so vastly different from her beloved employer's.

“I am through with someone thinking foolishly that I am a pawn in their game,” Auraelith's voice was uncharacteristically coarse, a feverish zeal weaved within every word. “It's time I pull the trigger, darling. The letter has been written for days. Take it to -him-.” The pallid mistress rose, chest heaving in wake of the pain. Assuming her aristocratic posture, she watched with a renewed smirk upon her lips as the scarlet-haired handmaiden bowed humbly and, without a word, set off immediately for the Undercity.

Koudo was relieved that the woman was now in safe hands. Her skill in healing was very limited but seeing that one of the Terrans was a healer lifted her spirits. She was disappointed that the content of the note was not made known, but alas it was a private matter addressed only to them.

Her thoughts returned to Trenetir and how he seemed very anxious to leave when her company arrived. She frowned, dismissing the behavior. Without dwelling further on it she latched her shield onto her back and sheathed her sword. Closing the door of the office she approached Gath to discuss their trip back to Gadgetzan

Koudo rode her hawkstrider up the path leading to the Ratchet office. To her dismay Trenetir stood waiting. Her eyes narrowed as she approached.

Trenetir stood waiting; he had another package in his hands, his face showing an expression as if he hadn’t seen her in days. He spoke looking at her pleasantly “I would be honored if you would allow me to treat you.” He motioned not elsewhere, but to the office. He had been quite busy while Koudo had been out delivering the package to Lord Dawnstrider. Inside the office was beautiful.

Koudo dismounted shooing her mount away to let it graze. She shook her head in disbelief as she strode past him. She stood in shock at the display. The table had been cleared of packages and papers; instead a beautiful arrangement was laid out, a marvelous dinner for two, with chilled wine and candles. Koudo stood in shock, her anger started to show clearly on her face.

Trenetir watched her carefully speaking “Sea bass and roasted potatoes…” He stepped closer to her, “Join me, please”

Koudo turned to face him, her eyes glaring and her voice filled with anger “Mr. Moradinel! I have a Job! I have responsibilities and work that needs to be done! I do not have time to sit here and fulfill your stupid and ill conceived fantasies! Do you hear me! Do you have a clue!?”

Trenetir regarded her ire as it was directed at him full force. "I believe you are mistaken Koudo. Should you truly want to be rid of me have I not given you the means to do just that? To kill me?" He was almost taunting.

Koudo trembled; she remembered the gift he had given her, her own dagger that she had used to stab through his love letter. Polished and now engraved with her name. Without thinking she unsheathed the dagger throwing hard against the wall. The blade burred itself three fingers width into the wood planks behind Trenetir.

Trenetir looked back at the dagger, his breathing increased, "A wonderful stick, though I believe you missed your target my dear." His condescending tone inevitable. He tried to correct himself. "Damnit Koudo, either kill me or accept me."

Koudo laughed quietly and spoke slowly in a low tone “If it causes you to suffer for me to be always out of your reach then I will have it no other way”

Trenetir relaxed at her laughter, his eyes alight with possibilities, something lighter. "Do that again." He asked.

Koudo’s face deadpanned “Get out! Get out now! Before I call the authorities!”

Trenetir looked rather confused by her hostilities.

Trenetir ran his hands through his hair, speaking softly, "Please Koudo, the dinner. I do not want to leave you like this."


Koudo looked back at the beautifully set table “Why the confused look? Why don’t you leave me alone? You were a mistake. I should have never tried to reach you. “, She turned away and began to cry, between her sobs she spoke “Please just leave me alone”

Trenetir sighed, his eyes filled with concern, his voice a whisper, "Koudo, I hurt you. I know this, but your tears, they cause me pain." He moved to her, kneeling before her, how often did she have him on his knees. He hugged her knees. "Please Koudo. Do not send me away”

Koudo sniffed “I can’t do this Trenetir. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to your partner. I will not share you. And he should not have to share either. It’s time for you to leave”

Trenetir looked up at her, "It's not fair to want you? To want to see you happy, and successful? Do not think of it as sharing, please, do not think of it."

Koudo shook her head wiping her eyes "Right now what would make me happy is for you to leave." She attempted to move forward

Trenetir stood up, slowly, reaching a hand out to wipe her tears. He was sincere, "Dinner, and I will leave you."

Koudo looked at the table and numbly walked over to it sitting with a blank look on her face

Trenetir moved to sit across from her, dishing up the fresh fish and potatoes. He poured her a glass of wine. "Thank you Koudo, you will never know what this means to me." He dished up his own meal.

Koudo kept her eyes down; she quietly picked up a fork and took a bite

Trenetir joined her, taking a bite of the food, before taking a drink from his own glass of wine. "The blade, the shield, they really do suit you." He added, "And your laugh...I would like to hear that again."

Koudo‘s head turned slowly to the wall where the shield now hung, her eyes lit up briefly before closing. The shield was beautifully emblazoned with the AAMS emblem and her name. It really was a marvelous piece of work.

Trenetir followed her gaze to the shield. He watched her every move, drinking it in, "I sent her." He admitted, "I wanted you to suffer and to know that it was me who made you suffer." He set down his fork and watched her intently.

Koudo looked up confused “Sent who?”

“The girl, the night elf.”

Koudo’s face turned ashen her speech came out broken “But she was so hurt and unresponsive”

Koudo eyed the door, fear now coursing through her veins

Trenetir ran his hands through his hair, "Don't Koudo. Please."

Koudo tried to control her breathing, her heart pounded in her chest her hand moved slowly down to bag tied to her side which contained her hearthstone

Trenetir looked at her across the table, he held out his hand to her, "Honesty, that is what I give. You don't want to share, we can make arrangements." He pleaded with her.

Koudo stood up from the table with wide eyes "No, there will be no sharing.." She took a few steps back "I don't know you. I don't know you at all." Her eyes filled with tears "What did you do to her!?"

Trenetir moved to stand in front of her, "You know me Koudo, you can trust me." He took a deep breath, "I ......." he paused, "I harmed her."

Koudo placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, her eyes wide “No, no I don’t trust you. Why are you telling me this?” Her voice came out in a desperate plea.

“I am telling you this because I want you to trust me”

Koudo swallowed hard her eyes still wide “I suggest you leave now and never show your face here again. I have no choice but to let my supervisors know of this duplicity”

Trenetir pleaded with her, "Don't do this. You wanted honest. I have given it to you. You wanted trust. My life is in your hands. My -life-."

Trenetir was on his knees again, he seemed rather like a lost child, so much the damaged man.

Koudo squared her jaw “Every choice anyone ever makes in their life has consequences, some are good some are bad, you made this choice. Now you must live with it. You chose this path. Now face the consequences “

Trenetir looked up at her, "Do not do this Koudo." There were tears flowing freely down his cheeks. "Do not break my heart."

Koudo looked down at Trenetir now with uncaring eyes “Tears? I remember shedding those for you. It’s time to face the music Mr. Moradinel. My only regret is that my heart was open to someone such as you.”

Trenetir 's eyes flashed bright, "You mock my pain..." He accused her. “, He stood slowly, looking down at her, "A man is only as good as his word, and I have been naught but honest with you... I -trusted- you.” He sighed, "When love is given, you cannot pick and choose the part of the person you love. You cannot love their eyes and hate their chin anymore than you could love their morals and hate their actions. Do you know what that's like Koudo? To love? I do."

Trenetir 's words were soft, the fear still palpable.. audible... she commanded him.

Koudo yelled in return “Honestly! Love! Trust! You speak like a preacher but actions are those of the devil! I thought I loved you! You spiteful excuse of a man! Honesty to me is nothing when you lie to the rest of the world! Get out of my sight”

Trenetir had a retort prepared, "You loved me?" He asked hopefully.

Koudo grimaced wishing she could take those words back but simple replied “loved“

Trenetir stepped forward quickly before she could stop him. He lifted her up off her feet, wrapping his arms around her waist, "Why didn't you say so?" He grinned at her, "You lift my spirits."

Koudo kicked with her feet and arched her body backwards in an attempt to throw his balance off

Trenetir staggered backwards, releasing his hold of her. "Damnit Koudo!" He cursed, "What would you have? Would you like to kill me? Would that satisfy you? Would that make you happy? I long to make you happy."

Koudo regained her balance, taking the opportunity to fully unsheathe her sword; she pointed the tip of the blade at Trenetir “I do not have the authority to take one’s life, even one as pitiful as yours. Yes I loved you but your honesty has turned into a two edged sword”, she motioned with her blade to the door yelling “Get out!”

Trenetir looked down at the blade, "Loved me? When. Why didn't you say something to me? Why didn't you tell me? Things could be rather different for us. I have been naught but honest with you. I have given you everything. Do you know what that is for a man like me to do... to give everything to another? You must run me through if you have any intention of anything else."

Koudo shook her head “I will do no such thing.”

Trenetir left the office slowly.

Koudo looked to the shied knocking it off the wall.

Trenetir watched the shield fall, all words stolen in that moment. He left, defeated.

Koudo watched him leave her brow raised has he leaned over the railing and began to vomit. He cursed and began to argue with himself in a most disturbing way. She backed away turning when he called out her name again. Her eyes narrowed in anger as she turned.

Trenetir spoke “They will come, for your heart is noble. I have no desire to see any more of the blood of our kin shed. And so I am here. Your willing prisoner.”

Koudo looked at him in disbelief

“Hold me until you can turn me over to the law, that is your wish is it not?”

Koudo answered "Yes I want to see justice served"

Trenetir replied smirking, “Then I am yours, until such a thing happens.”

Koudo placed her hand on the hilt of her blade and motioned to the door, keeping an eye on Trenetir as he entered. She moved to a shelf and grabbed some packaging twine, "Hold out your hands"

Trenetir looked up at her, "Are you trying to seduce me Koudo?"

“ No, now hold out your damn hands” She grumbled as she attempted to force Trenetir's hands together and bind them.

Trenetir taunted her still, his words nothing shy of inappropriate. Koudo looked at Trenetir appalled and tugged on the twine attempting to move him under the stairs, tying the loose ends of the twine to the stairs.

Trenetir fell to his knees, his hands still held above his head, tied to the stairs. " You have the power Koudo."

The night was long. It always was when he was away from home. With a swift yank he pulled down his hands, the twine severing from the force. With another jerk of his arms his hands were free. Idly he rubbed his wrists. In a short amount of time the twine had managed to dig in. He looked around the room, leaning back against the stairs. There was no window, no view of the West, nor arms to bring him comfort. There would be no sleep this night, but he would remain. He -had- given his word afterall, and what good is a man who cannot keep his word?

The room was exquisite, though he had learned to expect nothing less.

Windows faced all the cardinal directions. Between them, shelves lined with tomes old and new, rare and common. Irilin had spied among them copies of his treatises on elemental conjuring and defencive magics, relics which he hadn't seen in a very long time.

The desk in the center of the room was simple, well equipped with ink, quill, and parchment easily at hand. While he suspected that the supplies of each would seem neverending, he was sure that a servant was responsible for any replenishment that might occur.

Irilin moved over to the western window, looking out over the rolling woods to the ocean, a light breeze playing with his hair. He had finally found companionship again, albeit in the most unexpected of places. The inquisitor thought him insane, though hardly anyone else was any wiser to it. Irilin gazed, unfocused, out the window. What was it he thought he was getting?

He didn't know. But as he glanced around the room again, he knew that, whatever it was, it was his hand that brought all this. He descended the stairs from his new study, fairly certain that it was going to be a quiet night alone. How he knew this was beyond him, but he was beginning to develop a sense of how things worked, even if he had no idea what was going on.

And that was probably best. Neither he, nor Trenetir, fully knew the other's movements. Neither pried. That was the combination that made this work so well.

Lumeus awoke in fog of blurry vision and half conjured thoughts. It was disorienting, confusing, and all together unpleasant. With a furrowed brow Lumeus attempted to sit up. He immediately regretted the decision. Throbbing pain burst in his skull causing him to wince as he laid back against the golden silk pillows.

"Easy now, Milord. Easy." Dabeth said as he placed a cool, damp cloth across Lumeus' forehead. It was a small relief from the pounding headache that had him in firm grasp.

With some effort Lumeus managed to open his eyes and take proper stock of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that the walls of his room were bathed in the glowing orange light of sunset. He looked over at Dabeth. "I don't normally mind you letting me sleep in Dabeth," Lumeus motioned toward the sinking sun. "But I think you over did it."

Dabeth bowed in worried apology. "Milord has been asleep for near a month."

Lumeus slowly nodded. "Definitely over did it."

"Milord was poisoned. We thought you for the afterlife." Dabeth worried at the spare cloth held tightly with both hands.

"Well that IS troublesome." Lumeus looked from the window back to Dabeth. Dabeth was starring very intently down at the floor. "You have more news. And by the look on your face its worse than being almost poisoned to death."

Dabeth, with deliberate hesitance and inner conflict plain on his face, slowly raised his eyes to meet Lumeus' fel haunted gaze. "I-I-It's, well, I-It's your brother… M-Milord…"

Lumeus strode from his bedchamber in nothing but his small cloths, Dabeth in frantic tow. "Milord! You must rest!" Dabeth struggled to keep up. "You could fall into relapse and give the poison a second chance at your life! At the very least you'll catch cold!" Dabeth pleaded.

Lumeus snapped his fingers calling elegant, spellwoven robes to materialize around his form. In colors of flowing white silk and blood red satin trimmed with gold Lumeus shed any trace of illness to be replaced with the determined and commanding visage his father had possessed.

His voice thundered across the high vaulted hallway acoustics. "Dabeth, send for a healer. Bring them here yourself if need be. Summon a scribe and send word to the Silvermoon bank that I will be paying them a visit shortly, as well as making a rather large withdrawal. That will be all, Dabeth."

"B-But, Milord…" Dabeth objected.

"That will be all," Lumeus said with deadly finality. "See to your duties."

"Yes, Milord," Dabeth said bowing several times as he backed away. Lumeus clenched his jaw and continued on towards his study, his robes billowing with excitement in his wake.

The footsteps were fast and determined. And unfamiliar.

Irilin faded immediately, and vanished into the shadows as a robed figure strode by.

Isn't that...?

If words could have escaped his throat, they would have been a much different colour than what he used for sonnets.

It had been years since he'd tried projecting a long distance, but this seemed an appropriate time to give it a try again. He made his way silently through the halls until he was safely outside and away. Stopping under a tree, still stealthed, he close his eyes, rubbing furiously at the ring around his finger. His tattoo began to ripple, almost to the point of looking like a rolling boil, and he flung the thought out, desperately hoping Trenetir would hear it, wherever he was conducting his business...

He's awake...

The words did not seep into his mind like a whisper in the night, no, they assaulted him, bringing the Blood Knight to his knees as he stood on the deck of the boat back to the Eastern Kingdoms. The first yell that left his lips was from the intrusion into his mind. The second from his recently bandaged leg hit the planks.

No one moved to comfort the Blood Knight, but rather stepped away from him out of fear. Gritting his teeth, Trenetir slowly stood up, using the railing to aid him. Sweat dripped down his brow, his breathing was rough. He stared out at the sea, the words echoed in his mind..He's awake...

The ramifications of the words were two-fold. Lumeus was awake, at the worst possible time. The paperwork had just been altered, the estate, the fortune, all of it now appeared to be Trenetir's and he had taken no pause in spending it, even donating it. The renovations to the estate had begun, but were far from completed. Had his ego led him astray. In that moment on the dock he thought that the would have it all.

Irilin! While Trenetir had been off gallivanting, continuing the suffering and ruination, he'd lost sight of things. In his haste, he was consumed with vengeance when he'd made other promises and now...now he'd left Irilin exposed to Lumeus' wrath. His eyes flashed bright, his knuckles white as he gripped the railing. He could not arrive in Silvermoon City fast enough.

The house of cards was poised to fall.

The old gnome swayed gently on the back of his Mechanical Strider as the morning passed into mid day. Turning one last time he gave a confident wave to the dwarves stationed at the Algaz Fort in Loch Modan.

Leaving his two companions behind at Thelsamar, Cail headed north toward the mountain passes of Algaz. Several years had passed since last he'd traveled this way and he wanted to pause at the station for a chat and to inquire about some old friends. After passing several hours and restocking a few provisions, Cail headed off into the Passes which would ultimately deliver him into the marshy wetlands bellow.

The dwarves stationed at the fort gave ample warning of the increased Orc movements. Sometime long ago a band of Dragon Maw Orc invaded the passes and occupied Fort Algaz. The fort lent its name to the passes, and itself was nestled behind a narrow bend leading into the mountains. Perched on a ledge the fort overlooked not only a long stretch of the pass, but also gave a stunning view of wetlands bellow. One could imagine the sheer strategic importance of such a fortified site. Cail mused for a moment on the memories that were conjured up.

The old gnome left word with the dwarves for his companions. He would only venture into the pass a short distance, find a place to look out over the valley and there he would wait for them. Confident in his own abilities to evade Orc, as he had occasion to do in his youth, Cail continued forward into the pass.

As he descended the old gnome chuckled to himself. Sims beeped inquisitively from his lap.

“Oh, never mind Sims. It's no matter.”

The tiny mechanical squirrel twisted its head up. It beeped and squawked a protest.

“Yes, I am well aware of the dangers. The mountaineers were very detailed in their warnings, and if you'll remember they even provided me with an updated and very detailed map of the pass.” Cail flipped is wrist out and the map unfolded with a pop. He pointed with his other hand as they moved further down the pass tunnel.

“You see here?” Sims beeped an acknowledgment. “This is where we will be stopping. If memory serves there is a decent enough perch from where we may look out over part of the valley. Not a wondrous as the view from Fort Algaz, but still stunning none the less.”

Sims beeped inquisitively.

“It's not too far from where we are now. Why just outside this tunnel and partly around the bend. We'll have to make a little climb, but nothing to worry about. So don't you worry old friend.” Sims beeped another concern.

“Well if you feel so strongly about it, why not perch atop the strider's head and activate your sonar protocols? Then nothing will get the drop on us.”

Sims snapped its tiny head around and buzzed. It was a great idea. With the unearthly grace of a real squirrel, Sims bounded up the striders' long neck and perched atop its head. Sim's thick tail expanded slightly and sections of it twisted. It's ears readjusted atop its head and its nose elongated an inch. The tip began to pulse a soft blue hued light.

The Mechano Striders' self ambulation was engaged. Cail sat back and breathed a relaxing breath as he gazed at the map. There was a strangely familiar pattern to these marking. It all had to mean something.

Another puzzle for Cail to solve as they marched onward.

The Orc scout squatted near atop a tiny hill and looked out over the wetlands far bellow. Somewhere bellow his brethren were battling the dragonkin that were once under their control. They were as subservient as a beaten dog. They knew their place. Since the flight of Deathwing and the shattering of the great eyesore that was the dwarven dam of Lock Modan, the whole dragon flight is in rebellion.

The Orc scout grimaced.

He longed for the battle that was surely waging bellow. Instead he was stuck manning the occupied dwarven fort in the pass. All they did, day after day, was sit idly by and wait for further orders. The orc occupying the fort had grown lazy and fat like the highland ogre. It disgusted him.

There had to be a way to get back into the good graces of his brethren bellow.

The Orc's ears suddenly perked up. Someone was coming through the pass.

Mountaineers!

He quietly scrambled from his hill top perch to the top of the opposite tunnel entrance. He pressed himself as low as possible behind a smaller rock outcropping. He should have enough cover if they keep moving. He knew that if this was another patrol then he would likely have to fight his way out, killing a few of them as he fled. His actions have already provoked them into more frequent patrols and tighter searches of the upper regions of the pass. His little expeditions closer to their territory was beginning to stir the pot, making his treks harder and harder to pull off.

The Orc grinned.

The harder they made it for him to move the better he became at evading them. It was a win-win as far as he was concerned. He got to have a little innocent excitement, and if he were spotted then he go the chance to do a little battle and perhaps slay a few of the nasty creatures. Sure, he could be stirring them up into an all out war for the pass but better that they get the occupation over with than sit by another few years, getting fatter and more lazy until they loose the pass for good.

The noise drew near. Soon the patrol would exit the pass tunnel and then he would have to decide. Stay and hide, or claim the element of surprise and attack!

Strange.

The Orc paused, holding his breath. The sounds. They're almost...mechanical. Were these dwarves bringing down some heavy machinery? Had he really stirred the pot that much in the past weeks? If so then he had better make his way back to the fort and warn the others, lest the fatties be caught unaware.

As the noise grew closer, the Orc scout grasped his dwarven hunting rifle, leveling the muzzle down on the exit of the tunnel. Waiting for the smelly creatures to show their faces.

Cail sat back comfortably on the back of his Mechano-Strider, leaning back against his packed provisions. One leg was kicked up on the control panel, the other crossing it. Cail tilted his traveling hat forward, tucked his hands behind his head and let himself fall into a delightful trance in time with the sway of the strider.

Sleep drifted nearer as the echoing metallic foot falls of the strider faded into the distance.

The echo all at once faded. Each foot fall felt different. The warmth of the suns' rays welcomed him. He new he had exited the tunnel. Cail groaned as he sat forward, dropping his legs down to each side. He pushed his hat back on his head and peered around.

“This is the spot.” Sims turned to the old gnome and beeped in delight from his perch atop the striders' head. Cail disengaged the self ambulation and moved the machine to the side of the road and stopped. He swiveled in his seat and dropped off the side onto the road, a giddy grin stretching across his bearded face.

A large tree provided excellent shade. He powered down the Mechano-Strider and walked to the other side to pull down a few provisions. It would be another hour or more before Arogus and Mrs. Tahlyn caught up to him. Plenty of time to reacquaint himself with an old acquaintance and catch a nap.

Cail slung his pack over both shoulders and strolled past the tree. He tenderly stretched out his hand and patted the trunk. The feel of the rough bark against his palm reawakened old memories. Old faded memories of a life long past.

“Hello old friend.” He whispered. Each finger softly gliding over the jagged crags of the bark.

“We meet again after so many ye...”

The Orc scout watched in amazement as the mechanized bird lumbered out of the tunnel. Atop his head perched a metallic squirrel. It was an odd scene, which strangely enough reminded him of his youth in the barrens just outside of Durotar. Smaller animals often found purchase atop larger beasts, where they preened the bugs off the larger beasts' hide. Some also served as an alarm against the larger predators that also stalked the barrens. This was no different.

Though not very mechanically minded nor technologically inclined, the Orc scout nevertheless could tell these were fairly sophisticated machine. Lounging on the back appeared to be the operator. An old gnome. The Orc rolled his eyes and gently exhaled the breath he'd been holding.

And here I thought it was a serious threat.

If he stayed motionless then they'll never know he was there. They'll just pass right beneath...

He watched annoyed as the gnomish contraption stopped by the road.

No matter. Perhaps he is just readjusting something. He'll soon be on his way and...

The Orc scowled when he saw the grizzled old gnome slide off the metal bird, and stifled a moan.

I can't kill a gnome, he thought. There just isn't any sport in it. No challenge, other than having to run after the little devil. Unlike the local Orcs, he just couldn't get use to the taste of gnome.

No matter how they were cooked. It was like eating a stunted dwarf, and we all know that dwarves were made for killing!

Not eating.

Patience.

The Orc drew a slow breath and strained to hear. The gnome spoke, but he couldn't understand. The metal squirrel beeped back. It replied! The old gnome was conversing with a small metal squirrel!

An idea popped to mind.

He watched very closely. The old gnome was spry for what appeared to be his age. He moved very deliberately. So he was still in good health.

The way he communicates with that little machine, he must be its creator or at the very least he knows a thing or two about technology. He is a gnome after all. The Orc carefully scratched his cheek in thought.

I wonder if One is still in business. I bet that slaver would pay good coin for this one. Maybe even pull a few strings to get me out of this pass, at least.

It was decided.

The Orc Scout carefully re-positioned the muzzle of his dwarven rifle. As he had done countless times before, he focused the sights on his target. The old gnome. He watched as the old creature threw on a back pack and strolled carelessly to the tree. He slide his finger down to the trigger and applied the slightest bit of pressure. In a breath he dipped the muzzle down squarely on the metal squirrel and squeezed the trigger.

The rifle puffed it's thunderous report.

A flood of memories threatened to well his eyes up with tears.

He would have wept in that moment, remembering those once closest to him that were no long gone and the joyous time they once spent together beneath this very tree; but Sims buzzed an expression of comfort. The buzz jarred Cail loose from the ghosts of his past.

He smiled as he covertly dried his eyes.

“Sims, you are quite possibly the oldest friend I have left.” He turned toward the mechanical squirrel with a sincere grin.

"This is the very spot I first activated your power cells after a year of drafting, building, shaping, wiring..." His voice drifted at the memory.

He opened his mouth but before he could speak again the roaring report of a riffle slapped his ears and closed his mouth. He blinked with a hard flinch.

Before his very eyes he watched as Sims, the Superlatively Intelligent Mechanical Squirrel, his oldest and quite possibly most dedicated companion, disintegrated into the so many tiny parts that comprised the little metal creature.

Tiny bolts, springs, wing nuts, cog gears of various sizes, mixed with pressurized hydraulic fluids to form a cloud of mechanical gore that burst apart where Sims' torso once existed. In an instant, his oldest and most loyal companion was gone. Sims' head and shoulders fell one way, his legs and tail another.

His ears rang in a high pitch. The old gnome wailed in silence. Muffled screams of horror. He groped to collect the remnants.

He never saw the huge green beast lumbering toward him.

He only briefly felt the breeze of his Mechano-Strider being lifted off the ground and thrown overhead off the mountainside.

He couldn't see through terror stricken tear blurred vision the very ground he groped upon, and though he gazed up to the heavens in anguish he couldn't see the monstrous green beast looming over him.

The stock of a riffle falling to render him unconscious.