Disclaimer: World of Warcraft belongs to Blizzard, not me. I make no profit from any of this. Sadness. Also, all the names in this story were made up on the spot. Any likeness to actual players is unintentional (save for my characters, of course.)
Warning: None in this chapter, save for plot. Overall, nothing should exceed the game content.
"As soon as thou hast yoked the strong oxen, and with thy might and thy prowess hast ploughed all the stubborn fallow, and now along the furrows the Giants are springing up, when the serpent's teeth are sown on the dusky clods, if thou markest them uprising in throngs from the fallow, cast unseen among them a massy stone; and they over it, like ravening hounds over their food, will slay one another."
- The Argonautica
Sown on the Dusky Clods
Chapter 1
Aumna leaned against the rotten mailbox, hung her sunbane over a torch, and balanced it between her lips. She inhaled and watched toxic blue smoke slither towards the sky. A wave of cold, immovable calm settled into her belly. She shut her eyes and savoured its taste. Rev'n observed the ritual with chilly eyes, but his hands remained motionless. They sat outside what had been the New Avalon inn and didn't speak for a time.
"What do you think?" Aumna inhaled deeply and felt another dizzying chill run down her throat.
Rev'n raised a brow, which was emphasized by the mask that hid his face and neck, and the wound that killed him. He made several efficient gestures. You should stop smoking so much sunbane.
"A blood elf is going to lecture me on the dangers of addiction?" She scowled and examined the silhouettes repairing the armoury's roof. "I was talking about the buildings."
Who better? Rev'n's hands moved gracefully. Mograine will destroy you if he discovers this weakness.
Aumna grunted and resumed smoking. "I know."
Rev'n looked at her, then the town square. Mezian walked by singing an off-tune pub song and carrying a tightly rolled sheet of vellum. Maggotsmasher lumbered after him gurgling the chorus.
"That damn knee-biter is going to kill us all."
Rev'n punched her shoulder. Typical racist human.
"So?" She chuckled. "It's true."
They sat together until faint shouting pierced the clamour of construction. Rev'n stiffened, ears jutting out of his hood. He gestured curtly.
Follow me.
"What's wrong?" She murmured lazily.
Rev'n bolted across the open square, eyes blazing. Aumna sighed and followed suit, sunbane hanging precariously in her mouth. Down by the misty shore a crowd had formed. She hesitated on the lip of the hill, loathed to approach so many people. Voices rode the wind, close to shouting. The tension was palpable.
"Damn," she sighed and tossed her sunbane onto the ground. Everyone parted for her, their eyes darting in the fog like fireflies. Hoss and Muvad were the last to part for her, their old Lordaeronian uniforms reflected the faint sunlight. "What's going on?"
"Strange things," Hoss replied in his provincial twang. "Very strange."
"It's a woman," Muvad added, scandalized.
"So? Kill her."
Rev'n tapped Aumna's arm and walked to the water's edge. A small boat wobbled in the shallows, its oars clunked as the incoming tide dragged it back and forth. They grabbed prow and stern, and pulled it onto the sand. Everyone leaned in to look. A human woman lay curled up between the benches, a baby neatly tucked in her arms.
"Maybe…" Muvad shifted nervously, "maybe she's lost."
"Scourged, more like." Hoss spat on the ground. "And the Scarlet Crusade sent her to us as a nice little present."
Aumna leaned close. "I don't smell the plague on her." She drew back quickly, head spinning. "Stinks of the living, though."
Rev'n raised an eyebrow. He teased the mask draped across his face. The sun drooped towards the horizon, its light barely discernable against the waves crashing on the shore. He looked at Aumna, but her gaze was lowered, unfocused.
"What should we do?" Muvad stepped closer. His eyes glinted beneath the lip of his winged helmet. "Aumna?"
"Mm?"
Rev'n slammed his palm against the side of the boat. Aumna jumped.
"Yes, I heard you." She stared at the infant. "Well, ah…put them in the old church. Get Duskrunner to treat them, but keep them from seeing what they shouldn't." She looked up to where the Acherus hovered like a dark planet. "I will tell Mograine."
"Aye," Hoss said quietly. "Let me in, Rev'n. I'll take this one." He bent over and scooped the woman up in one easy motion. The child had been swathed in linen and tied against her chest. It opened its eyes and cried weakly. The woman's limbs swung listlessly as he turned and walked up the hillside.
Aumna watched for a moment, then drew closer to the boat. The oar handles looked worn and ill-used. Rev'n stared at her. She briefly met his eyes and nodded reluctantly. The crowd around them began to disperse in typical undead fashion: silently and without preamble. Muvad replaced her spot and leaned over the boat, head cocked.
Tearing open a Death Gate was never easy. Aumna had to repeat the spell three times before she finished the incantation correctly. The air split with an implosive rasp and an arc of dark energy stood before her. She stepped through. The dark halls of the Ebon Hold suddenly loomed around her. Several knights turned and stared with open hostility. She ignored them and stepped into the purple circle that immediately hurled her to the floor below.
Aumna blinked away the dizziness and turned around. Highlord Mograine sat mounted on his deathcharger, expression hidden by a snarling faceplate. She approached silently, aware that his eyes tracked her progress. His horse's ears flicked back and she dared go no closer.
Mograine shifted to get a better look. "You," he rasped lowly, "why are you here?"
"A human and her babe have come ashore." Aumna's hand automatically went to her pocket for another roll of sunbane. She passed off the gesture as a casual swipe against her belt. "She bears no supplies, no signs of allegiance, but she is one of the living." When Mograine said nothing, she hazarded, "do you wish for me to kill her?"
"Kill a woman and her child?" Mograine managed to sound appalled and scathing at once. "What sort of knight have I allowed into my order?" He leaned forward, armour clinking in the silence. "I commanded you to keep watch over the defectors, not to join them."
"Forgive me." Aumna bowed her head, lips pressed into a frigid line. "What would you see done?"
"Extract all the information you can. Return to me when her usefulness is at an end."
"Yes, Highlord." She bowed and stepped back, but froze when Mograine raised his hand.
"A word of advice."
"Of course, Highlord."
"The biggest difference between ourselves and the Scourge is our will, our restraint. Should you ever find yourself blind to that difference, knight, I suggest you end yourself." His tone plunged to a low, metallic rumble. "Because when I find you, everything you know about suffering will pale against my teachings. And the lesson will be unending."
R&R if you want to. Don't if you don't.