Footsteps echoed through the empty courtyard, dusting the dry stones of their silence. For those who didn't know better, the person stepping through the ruins might have still been at the world's end, battling through darkness and solitude, and to be true the eyes that glanced up at the stars where as expressionless and weary as their surroundings. But the owner of the eyes knew better. She knew she was finally home.
The horse she led snorted as they moved over a bridge and into a more enclosed section of the ruins. The deeper they went, the less the place felt like an abandoned city and more and more like a tomb. Unlit candles stood stiff and straight in sconces on the walls, watching silently as they passed. The horse slowed to traverse another set of stairs and then they saw the first living beings. There was a stench of decay about them, and the full armor they wore could not hide all of the rotting flesh and bones that were visible through the tattered shirts. She did not recoil at them, only moved forward to stand between the guards and face the wall. It slid open almost instantly and she entered the lift, exiting into the most eerie of cities to ever exist.
Undercity was as full of life as the ruins above had been devoid of it, but the life was faded, almost mocking, and filled with malice. The citizenship that pulsed in it's caverns moved with a sense purpose, not of hope or nobility, but of resentment and hatred. Power coated the walls, but also helplessness, for the population was cursed to only live a shadow of their former lives. Whispers followed her as she pushed through the crowds, figures parted as she led the horse carefully down steep stairs, heading deeper and deeper into the city. Her reception was varied; most ignored her, some glared, their dislike for her unsullied skin plain. Many stared, for her clothes were as tattered as theirs, a slowly healing cut on her face still burned an angry red, and the horse she led was real, living flesh. Their murmurs followed her even as she neared the Royal Quarter.
A nearby guard looked affronted as she passed the reins to him and continued without hesitation down the tunnel. The darkness was especially thick here and the smothering sensation grew strong before lifting abruptly. She had come to the lowest bowels of Undercity. The low murmur of conversation in the chamber did not break as she entered silently and slowly ascended the steps of the central dais. Only when she reached the top did those nearby turn in her direction. Taking two steps forward, she knelt and held out that which had been the object of her search for the past eight months.
Lady Sylvanas Windrunner took the pendant from her hands and lifted it to her face, examining it closely, then passed it to one of the forsaken behind her. "Thank you, Jalyria Dawnwaker. You've done well yet again."
Dawnwaker stood silently and raised her head. "My Lady."
Sylvanas motioned to the side and the blood elf turned to find the treasurer and claim her reward. These things done, the quest was finally over.
Her pace back up the tunnel was much slower than her descent, and she took the reins of the horse back without so much as a look at the guard. Thankfully the crowd remained sparse as she neared the Rogue's Quarter and turned into one of the small alcoves that led off the main cavern. A dark figure detached itself from the wall and took one step toward her, then called down the corridor: "She returns! Dawnwaker returns!"
Immediately there was a buzz of activity from further within the recess, and a large stone slid aside, hiding its carving of a shield and dagger and revealing a lighted doorway. Dawnwaker stepped through and finally felt rest. Beings of all races crowded to greet her, a blood elf took the reins of the horse as her packs were stripped off and carried in the direction of her quarters by a large orc. An undead took her arm and cleared a way through the crowd so that she could follow, and the next few moments found her in her quarters, sitting on the side of her bed and just breathing. The undead stood a little apart, regarding her carefully and not speaking until she did.
"You seem to have prospered in my absence, Gether."
He did not move, the stillness of his lifeless body match only by the walls around them. Dawnwaker swayed slightly on the bed and let her eyes wander to the hangings on the walls, the largest emblazoned with the the shield and dagger.
"The guild is thriving. Thank you for taking care of it."
The undead finally relaxed. "Thank you, Captain. But Shadowshield has eagerly awaited your return."
Her gaze returned to the floor, eyes blank. "It was a long journey."
Gether made no comment. He knew his captain had journeyed far, even across the Great Sea to the lands of Kalimdor on this latest quest, and he knew that she would speak of her travels when she was rested. Now was not the time for such recounts. After a few more moments of silence she lifted a hand to unlatch her armor and he moved quickly to help her, setting each piece in a neat pile by the door to be taken and repaired. She gasped as he took the breastplate and he was quick to notice the seeping red that stained it and the shirt underneath. Quickly setting the armor aside, he knelt to unfasten her boots so she wouldn't have to bend.
"A healer has already been sent for, Captain." The way she moved when she first appeared had been enough to send the message. She simply nodded and he took the boots, gathering up the rest of the armor as well and turning to face the door. A voice echoed outside.
"...to be roused from my bed at such an hour, only to be dragged into a den of thieves and assassins..." The owner of the voice appeared in the doorway, obviously hastily roused but still in fine robes and carrying an impressive staff. "...roguish ingrates who insist on sneaking around, spilling as much blood as possible. I don't care if it is Shadowshield's guild master-" She broke off as her eyes fell on the blood elf slouched on the bed and the fresh blood mixed with the old, but the exasperation did not leave her voice.
"Sun's fire, Jal, what did you do to yourself this time?"
The hint of a smile touched Dawnstrider's lips as she raised her head to the newcomer.
"Ah, Jeneira, late as always..."
"It wasn't enough to wake me when we were younger, you insist on disturbing my sleep even now! The gall. If I weren't your cousin I would walk out of this room right now. You know you are very lucky that I even happened to be in Undercity today."
Dawnstrider gave a tight smile and allowed her to examine the cut in her side, even as the priest continued to mutter her opinions about poorly applied bandages and insufficient anti-venoms. One hour and many instructions later she was gone, and the sleep that had eluded the blood elf for so long finally came as the pain ebbed away.
For two days she rested, submitting to more examinations by her cousin and offering Gether whatever advice he wanted concerning the guild. She may have been guild master in title, but he was the true strength behind the functioning of the coalition of thieves and assassins. His skills in administration far outmatched hers, but he would not accept the title, insisting that her skill and her position as founder made it necessary for her to be the head of Shadowshield, if only for appearances. When she had first issued the order that he would undertake no quests that would send him far away, he had been resentful, but had later understood when she returned from her first one. She remembered the moment well, her lying half-dead on blood-soaked flagstones and him kneeling at her head while the healers worked.
"It's not like the game, is it?"
She had managed to croak out a whispered "no."
"We can't heal as easily, everything takes longer..."
But the real realization had hit them when the body was brought back. A younger one of their members, less experienced, had been sent out into the Hinterlands. Months later an envoy had come from Aerie Peak and met them just beyond the Bulwark. As the chief messenger handed the body over she had looked in his eyes and known instantly; he had once been a player as well. One could always tell by the eyes. And Gether had stared at the body and whispered what they were all thinking. "There are no respawns..."
Word had spread, out from them and in from elsewhere, and the population of the cities had exploded as players-known by the rest of the population as endhi-sought the safety of numbers and stone walls. Areas they had once known as dungeons lay empty and deserted, abandoned to their denizens, as no one dared to brave them, even in large groups. But the brave, the bored, the few who were willing to face death still rode abroad on the lands, taking quests from those who could pay enough for their lives. Shadowshield had become known for this, and though the Forsaken frowned whenever they sheltered a human or a dwarf who inexplicably saw the need to travel through Tirisfal Glades, they allowed this and did not object.
So Gether stayed in the city and kept the guild together, and Dawnwaker led those who wished out into the wild, terrifying world. But this last venture had been hard, and she relished the chance to once again busy herself with the guild and those in it, in the safety of the city. But two days was all she seemed allowed, for her wound had not completely healed before the cry came down of the impossible.
"Undercity is under attack!"
