Marilyn Duskweaver shivered as she walked quickly down the Lakeridge Highway, mentally calling herself a hundred kinds of fool for having turned down the offer of an escort back to her small home. '"I don't live that deep into the woods" I said, "I can get back to my home just fine, nothing to worry about," I told them. Yeah, right, famous last words!' she shuddered as she increased her pace until she was practically jogging, which was difficult since she was wearing a dress. She irritably brushed her black hair out of her face, regretting that she hadn't thought to have tied it back before she'd left her home that morning, when the wind turned against her. She continued shivering as she wrapped her slender arms around herself, trying to ignore the way the wind blowing through the trees sounded like something whispering evilly.
She kept a wary eye out for Gnolls, who were known to patrol the Highway. She had no intention of becoming something's next meal, regardless of how stupid she had been in refusing an escort from one of the local guards or a traveling adventurer. Her dark blue eyes darted around, trying to see through the shadows in search of any danger. She rubbed her upper arms uneasily, unable to shake the feeling that something was watching her, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The desolate road both ahead and behind her only served to enhance that thought.
Marilyn shook her head frantically, trying to dislodge that foreboding thought, even as she increased her pace so that she was only a little bit shy of sprinting. She glanced to the side and saw an old, gnarled tree rumored to have been around before the Sundering. She didn't really know if she believed that, but right now she didn't care, since at the moment, that old tree told her that she was close to her warm, safe home. She slowed to a stop as she passed the old tree, even though her instincts screamed at her to maintain her pace, and she walked cautiously up to the ancient tree before she whispered to it, ignoring how stupid she probably looked, "Goodnight, Ronae Dracon, I hope to see you another day." She laid her hand gently against the aged tree, feeling the rough bark against her palm.
Ronae Dracon: High Elven for Peaceful Dragon. She had named the tree that on the spur of the moment when she had been a child of merely five years, and the name had stuck. She had named the tree that because she had childishly thought that the notch on the thick, gnarled trunk had seemed like the smiling mouth of a dragon, complete with an open mouth full of pointed wooden fangs. She had taken to hiding precious possessions inside the notch when she had turned seven years old, having thought that no one would have been able to get to them inside the mouth of a dragon, as she had thought the notch to be.
Marilyn snapped out of her memories and turned back towards the road, removing her hand from the rough bark of Ronae Dracon in the process. She walked quickly back to the road and resumed sprinting towards her house. She clutched her cloak to her, trying to make as little noise as possible as she ran. She was grateful that the wind blew her hair back from her face while she ran, as she was now able to see clearly ahead of her. Her eyes darted this way and that, trying to look in each direction at once in order to spot potential danger before it spotted her. She stifled a yelp when the wind snapped a branch snapped off one of the trees she was passing and crashed to the ground right in front of her.
She stumbled back, restraining the second scream that tried to emerge from her throat, and grasped the front of her white top over her heart, feeling as though the organ was trying to pound its' way out of her chest. She took several deep breaths, still trying to keep as quiet as possible. She gradually calmed down, relieved when her heart returned to its' normal rhythm. She immediately began moving again, swerving around the fallen branch and sprinting towards her house. She was relieved beyond measure when she saw her house and she ran as fast as she could towards it, desperate to reach the safety it promised. She reached her in record time, running up the door and swiftly jerking it open and rushing into the familiar comfort of her own home. She slammed her door and quickly bolted it shut, sighing in relief when the lock slid into place. She drew out the flint and tinder she always kept with her and walked around the room, lighting the candles she had placed around it earlier in the day. She sighed in relief, glancing around the decent-sized room as she turned and walked over to her fireplace, which was in the middle of the right wall.
Her home was a modest two bedroom house, with a kitchen, dining room, greeting room, and several spare rooms that she mostly used for storage. Her greeting room consisted of several warm rugs spread over the wooden floors, and there were three chairs placed around the fireplace, and there was an extremely comfortable couch placed against the far wall closest to the door leading to her own bedroom. The upholstery on the chairs was a soothing shade of light green, matching the rug closest to the fireplace, while the couch was a dark shade of red, otherwise known as 'Passion Red'. There were four doors that led off from the greeting room, and one of those doors led to the master bedroom. There was a door directly across from the door leading into the house, and that was the door that led into the spare bedroom. The door that was placed almost in the middle of the left wall led into the dining room, which then led into the kitchen and further back on the left wall was the door that led into the first of the two storage rooms. And last, but certainly not least, was the door almost at the far end of the central wall, placed at the foot of the red couch, that led into the master bedroom.
Marilyn knelt down and used the flint and tinder to set fire the log sitting in the fireplace for just that purpose. She shivered, even as the fire in front of her helped to banish the chill from her skin. She couldn't explain it, but for some reason she felt as though something was chilling her from the inside out. She stood up after a moment longer and hurried into the kitchen, deciding that something warm to drink would help to warm her up. After several moments spent scurrying around the kitchen, opening cabinets, and lighting the stove, she began making some Green Garden Tea. As she poured the water into the kettle and set it on the stove, she thought about the latest commissions she'd received that day. She returned to the small dining table and sat down as she waited for the water to come to a boil, 'Let's see, the City Guardsmen need some more linen shirts, Lindsay Ashlock needs another apron, and the stable master needs a new pair of heavy linen shoes.' She was jolted out of her thoughts when the kettle began to whistle shrilly, causing her to jump in fright before she stood up and rushed over to the stove.
She put on the heavy linen gloves she had set aside for when she made tea, since given her luck the second she picked up the kettle without gloves on, she would spill hot water all over herself. She gently picked up the shrieking teakettle and quickly carried it over to the dining table. She set it down and opened the lid before taking off the gloves and retrieving the actual tea. As she measured out the correct amount of tea to add, she couldn't help feeling depressed that she got so little business. Of course, she acknowledged that if she moved to a bigger city, she might get more business, but she couldn't even think about leaving for long. She sighed softly, contenting herself with the knowledge that at least she had a semi-stable income, since the City Guardsmen always had need of new linen shirts and pants.
As soon as she judged the tea ready, she poured herself a cup and sat down at the table, thoughtfully sipping the borderline hot tea. She shivered, despite the warm liquid she was drinking, and couldn't help wondering why she was having a strange, chilled sensation all over her body, and why she couldn't seem to banish it. She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of the fire crackling in the greeting room. She shifted nervously and opened her eyes again, trying to ignore the fact that for a moment, she had thought that she'd heard the sound of Gnolls cackling. She shuddered violently, barely having the thought to set down her cup of tea before she wrapped both arms tightly around her body and continued to shiver as memories flashed through her mind. She took deep breaths, trying to stem the flow of images, and after several long moments she was able to block them out.
Still shaking slightly, she reached out and picked up her cup of tea, taking a few sips in the hopes that it would help her to calm down. She sighed in relief as the warm tea did help her to stop shaking so badly, but it did nothing to stop the feeling of ice gripping her heart and flowing through the rest of her body. She frowned, unsure of what to do next as she finished drinking her cup of tea. She shifted in her seat, unsure at first of what the chilled feeling meant, but she didn't want something bad to happen because she'd done nothing about the feeling.
As a passing Draenei shaman had once said, "Many a false step has been made by standing still."
She stood up after that thought, walking back into the greeting room and retrieving her cloak. As she fastened the cloak securely, she mentally called herself a million kinds of fool for going out at night just because of a feeling, but she couldn't bring herself to ignore it. She grabbed the lantern that was hanging by a peg next to the door, taking a moment to light it before grabbing the lantern's handle and lifting it up. She hesitated briefly before unlocking the door and opening it, causing the light in her house to spill out and briefly illuminate the road in front of it before she resolutely walked and closed the door behind her, cutting off most of the light save her lantern. She turned back towards the road and walked out onto it before pausing, looking around warily as she debated with herself about which way to go. To go right would take her to Lakeshire, and to go left would lead her to the Crossroads.
Marilyn bit her lip uncertainly as she wrestled with herself, but then she remembered: there was an old man, more of a hermit really, who lived near the Crossroads and refused to move, no matter how many people told him that it wasn't safe to live there at his age, especially since the Gnolls around that area had been getting restless. She hesitated again, but then steeled herself and turned right before she began walking, wanting-…no, needing to know whether or not the chilled feeling inside her had something to do with the old man. She didn't know the old man well, heck, she'd hardly ever caught a glimpse of him on the rare days that he went into Lakeshire for supplies, but on those times she'd felt a weird vibe coming from the old man and had avoided him. Still, that didn't mean she wanted anything to happen to him.
She walked quickly, her eyes darting this way and that as she tried to see through the shadows to see if there was any dangers, since her lantern might very well attract something instead of repelling it. She felt the sense of déjà vu as she listened to the wind howl and tried to hear passed it in order to hear the tell-tale crack of a tree branch or shrubbery being moved aside. She was thankful that she lived almost midway between the Crossroads and Lakeshire, being closer to Lakeshire, since it meant she didn't have to walk as far as she would have if she'd lived in Lakeshire proper.
As the wind howled, this time pushing her hair out of her face, she was relieved to note, she held her hand in front of her lantern, trying her best to protect it from the wind in order to keep it from going out. She squinted and saw the vague outline of a small house, even smaller than her, she was surprised to find, through the shadows. She sighed in relief, the sound quickly lost in the tossing winds, planning on just knocking on the door and asking if the old man was alright, and then running back to her own house as quickly as possible before she ran into something she wouldn't want to meet at nighttime or in daytime. However, as she drew closer to the house and her lantern illuminated the front of it, she saw that the door was left open, something that no one in their right mind would do, given the fact that Gnolls, Black Dragon Whelps, and other wild beasts were likely to wander in if one wasn't careful. She bit her lip, feeling the chilled sensation inside of her increase in intensity as she drew ever closer until she stood almost in the doorway.
That was when the smell hit her, the cloying scent of fresh blood like acid in her nostrils. She slapped her free hand over her nose and mouth, fighting her natural instinct to retch at the horrible smell. She hesitantly stepped up into the doorway and held her lantern aloft to see what could be causing the smell, even though she already had the terrible feeling that she knew.
Author's Note: The old man and Marilyn Duskweaver are my creations, and not actually present in the game itself.