"Long ago, I unshackled my blind eyes from their strangling tether, allowing me true sight, true vision. It was then when I saw what hides within this world. It was then…I wished I was blind again…"
Twilight Prophet: Upon witnessing the opening of the gates of Ahn'Qiraj, as found etched upon a Twilight Script.
Heavy armor clanks as the old man fidgets nervously in his spot. His eyes dart within their sockets. Thoughts dance within the confines of his mind. It would definitely seem that he was not expecting me to agree with him.
You didn't even think you were going to.
Yeah, that certainly was not on today's agenda.
Finally, he sighs, pulling his arm to the side of his head.
"Hope, you do what you are agreeing to, correct?"
I shrug, "Possibly so. Possibly not. Honesty, I do not think I know." My eyes dart to the ground, "But, lets face it," I look back to him, "…when the hell do I have a clue?"
The salt-and-pepper padding upon his chin shifts, exposing moving muscles and a cracking smile.
"You will be leaving the Plaguelands…your home, you know that, right?"
I nod, "Of course, but…"
Once again, my eyes drift to the road behind us. It winds for a good distance before temporally vanishing into a series of vacant, abandoned structures. The town, Corin's Crossing, has been empty for a few weeks now. Ever since the Ashen Verdict captured it, it never regained any populace.
Now it stands alone, as a sign of what this land has truly become…
"Hope? You still with me?"
Dang it. There I go again, completely drifting into my own thoughts. Swiftly, I turn from my distractions, face the now frowning figure. His eyes stare, glazed with a strong sense of concern.
"Yeah, I am still here." I shuffle in my spot, "I was just looking to where I was planning to go."
He smirks, "Really? Because I do believe you simply lost your train of thought again. Fooled me, you did."
A smirk spreads across my face, "You caught me. Of course, I have never been really good at hiding it."
The old man moves forwarding, approaching me slowly with every step.
"Hope, are you really planning to leave? Or are you simply agreeing and planning to return as stubborn and thick-headed as ever?"
As he finishes his statement, his hand lands heavily on my shoulder. I am unable to look him in the eye, so, like usual, my vision wanders to his armor. It moves towards the dancing, metallic flames of vengeance, towards the towers upon his shoulders, towards the spire rising from his helm.
And, uncontrollably, I find my eyes drawing from the top of his head to face…to his eyes…
"Yes, I am going to listen, like a good Hope should."
His fingers grip my shoulders firmly before he gives me a gentle shake. A smile spreads across his face, but I do not believe he is showing the expression out of glee or joy.
You know he is hiding his true emotions.
"Well, Hope Blackwood, if you really planning to leave, then I suggest you gather your things and get ready for the trip."
He releases me, allowing me for an expected, long preparation, but if that man is assuming I tug alone vast amounts of supplies then he obviously doesn't know me.
You live off the land!
Quickly, I look to my left, reach down, grab my sack -- with gun attached-- and throw it over my left shoulder. Promptly, I twist, break my shovel from its earthen tomb, sling it over my back, and adjust my shoulders to hold it.
I look to Carlin and smile, "All good to go."
His eyes dart across my body, examining my every inch for signs of faulty gatherings, or visual displays of greater need. Oddly, he smirks, throwing his free hand to his chin.
"Took you long enough, Hope." He chuckles, "Honestly, I thought you just needed the shovel. Ha."
Crazy old man! I shake my head as he cackles sinisterly to himself. He really does think he is funny.
"What? Did you assume that I dig up holes and dine on wriggling worms with Squeals?"
A grand, mighty smile beams from ear to ear. Rows of clever, prepared teeth align for a verbal strike of words. Oh no, I played right into his hands…
"Why else would Nathanos call you, 'Worm?'
"Ah!" I throw my arm forward, jabbing the old man in his plated chest with my fingers, "I knew you were going to say that!"
He chuckles loudly, tilting his head back to intensify the humor. Just as quickly, he throws his head forward, bringing his joyful expression back into plain view. His eyes lock with mine, and again, he throws his hand to my shoulder.
Gently, he pulls me forward until our foreheads smack gently together. He breathes quickly, as if winded by this very moment. He smiles strongly, as if inspired by this very second. He holds firmly, as he has every minute of his life.
"Hope, you take care of yourself, ok?"
His smile fades, forming to the depressing frown that I wish he hadn't shown.
"Yes, sir, I will make sure that I don't talk to strangers, or take candy from undead salesmen. And, most importantly, I will not eat yellow snow."
Thankfully, the smile returns to his face, and with it, he pushes me back, but only to drag me back in for the powerful man-hug. I throw one arm around his back, and he does the same. We pat each other upon our spines a few times before pulling apart and standing awkwardly.
You just said…man-hug…right?
"Hope," he shakes me one last time, "I will find you when I finish here. You know that?"
I nod, "I hope so. This place just isn't what it used to be."
He lets go of me, taking a few steps backwards, "Yeah, it does seem that way. The fall of the Lich King brought the end to these lands."
I turn from him slightly and shrug, "Sometimes, the enemy of our waking moments is what holds our reality together."
A shocked expression sweeps Carlin's face, "Woah, Hope, that was profound…where did you learn that from?"
I turn from him completely, aiming for the road ahead. My feet shuffle across the dead grass, crushing strands as they move. My hands grip the edges of my bag, holding it firmly upon my back. Another step, more dead grass. Another, stones beneath my soles.
I turn my head, facing back to the man behind me, "From you, Highlord Redpath. From you."
He nods, turns, and drags himself up upon a horse that I had not even seen before. Was I really distracted that badly?
You are not alone, I didn't see it nor hear it.
Oh well, the white beast, decorated in matching white armor, holds the aged man to the high standard that he so deserves. Its legs shift as the warrior readjusts his direction, aiming for the road north. He aims for the battle of Stratholme, for the new source of war.
But before he takes off, he turns to me and yells.
"Farewell, Hope! I must go make sure Jessica isn't trying to take the courtyard by herself again!" He pauses briefly, glancing to the tiny raptor upon the gravel path, "Oh, and Squeals, if the fool passes out, make sure to bite him extra hard, ok?"
My eyes drift to the trailing pet behind me. Her body jiggles joyfully before she tilts her head and loudly chirps. She dances playfully in her spot for a second, moving slowly towards the old man.
Carlin laughs, snaps his reigns, and heads off. However, one last time, he shouts to me.
"May we meet again, Master Blackwood, in better times, and reminisce of days long past…"
His voice fades as he moves.
"…Of battles fought hard…."
It dims.
"…Of dreams redeemed."
It is almost a whisper, and he is almost a dot amongst the horizon. But I will not let him end it there. No, I will be the last one to speak here.
"I will much like that, Carlin! And I hold you to it!"
And he is gone, leaving me with thoughts, of memories of Icecrown. What he said to me seconds prior was exactly what I said to Tirion as we drifted from the Dark Citadel a year ago. As we left the paladin alone to battle the Lich King for all time.
And my words…were Tirion's last…
You done good. You done really good.
I stare aimlessly at the blank horizon. Mounds of dirtied, dead earth roll before me. Battered Scourge structures rest empty, all evil purged from their malicious innards. Maybe I shouldn't go…maybe…
You must get moving.
Yes, you are right. It is time. And with that, I turn, aim down the road, and let my first leg forward. I move slowly at first, but gradually I gain speed. Stone crunches beneath my feet as I take every step.
From behind, I hear scratching sounds as the little raptor darts after me. She rushes past, stopping a few feet ahead, as usual. Sometimes, I wonder if she thinks I am her pet…
Her head whips back; narrow brows suggest a rather odd focus. I do believe she is glaring at me. She moves a bit faster before abruptly spinning in her tracks, stopping in front of me. The glare continues, followed by an awkward growl.
What in the world?
She emits a random array of sounds, as if she is trying to communicate. There are occasional chirps followed by high-pitched barks and yelps. Yeah, I do believe she is talking to me.
You think she is better off speaking to Murlocs.
Finally, she snorts, spins, and darts off down the road. She wants me to hurry up. Or she wants me to chase her. Or she is hungry and saw something to eat. All three? I don't know, but no point in arguing.
You heard the lady!
My legs quicken the pace. The tiny fiend scurries across the gravel path, accelerating rather quickly. She speeds around a bend, dodging tiny pebbles and leaping over her-sized rocks.
I gain on her slowly, but she is rather hasty for her size. She rounds another bend, leaps over a skull, and darts towards the outskirts of Corin's Crossing. Rapidly I dash after her. A smile stretches across my face as I near the sprinting racer.
She dodges another obstacle. I extend my arms, readying them for the snatch! Buildings appear in my vision as we near the town. Another leap and bound are exerted from the little warrior's legs. The first building passes, and I almost have her!
My hands reach down, but she navigates to the right. You slippery devil, you! I reach again, but she hops to the left. Oh, I see how it is going to be! A third grab, but…I stumble as I try to dodge the suddenly stopped pet.
Woah! Watch it, Squeals!
I trip over her tiny body, attempting not to smash her.
I manage to get my footing after a few harsh seconds of imbalanced movement. Finally, I grip the edges of a building and pull myself to the frame. My head twists to the side, and I angrily glare to the beast below.
Instantly, all aggression subsides as I watch Squeals. She stands at the middle of an intersection, peering bemused down an unseen street. Her head bobs up and down. Tiny arms hang towards the ground. Inquisitive eyes gaze upon the unknown.
Uncontrollably, I release the building, and make towards her. My jaw slips down, but no words emit from my sundered mouth. I take another step. Another, this time tilting my head to gawk in the direction she does.
"Squeals?" The road comes into view, "What are you starring at? Lunch?"
Suddenly, her tiny body shoots towards the ground. Her tail becomes violently erect, while claws extend forward. A deep, low growl wafts in rumbling waves from her enraged lungs.
Without hesitating, I throw my sight down the road. Rows of abandoned, desecrated buildings align haphazardly upon the un-kept road. Slanting roofs tilt towards the path, and aim back to the large graveyard at the edge of the town.
The graveyard I made. The graveyard that I filled. My…graveyard…
And standing amongst it…is a strange, black-robed figure. The dark, heavy cloth clings to the edges of frame, hiding his true figure, yet intensifying it as he kneels upon the soil. Fabric darts back and forth as arms sweep the faces of the gray stones. I make out a thin, purple border sewn perfectly upon the edges of his robe.
Oddly, he jumps to his feet, rushes to another stone, and bends over this time. His hands run across the tombstone, and after a second, he shifts and repeats his movement again.
I take a few steps forward. Silently, I come closer to him, hoping not to disturb his awkward ritual. One, two, three buildings pass as I shift forward. Before I can reach the building closest to him, I hear his voice radiating loudly
"Not him. No, not him. No, no no. Who, who, who?!"
His speech is rapid and a bit bewildering. It sounds as if the man is ranting to himself. The hood whips to the side then twists in the other direction.
"No, not here! Not here! How can it not be here?!"
He jerks upright. His arms whip into the air, forcing his robes to slide down to his elbows. Angrily he throws them back down before violently flinging his foot outward. The toe of his shoe rids forward, smacking against one of the tombs. Slowly, as if brought to sorrow from the transgressions of this man's actions, the stone falls backwards.
"Hey!" I yell, "What do you think you are doing? Stop disgracing those stones, you jerk!"
Instantly the man spins towards me. Shadows conceal his face, but I can feel his eyes through the thick cloth. His arms hang loosely to his sides. Slowly, he twists his body. Calmly, he makes a step towards me.
"I could not find him!"
He yells at me before quickening his pace.
"He was supposed to be here! He is dead, a dead spirit! How is he not here?!"
I try to move backwards, but the figure is quick. He scampers past tombstones and stumbles upon the path.
"The dead rest here! He must be here!"
Rapidly, he hurries in my direction. I attempt to reach for my weapon, but I foolishly flinch. All I can think to do is move rearwards. One, two, three buildings pass me as I shift back to the intersection. One, two, three buildings pass him as he nears me.
"Why can I not find the dead!?"
He reaches out, extending his mangled, dirtied fingers towards me. Surges of pinching pain ripple from the impact spot. Fingertips dig into my leathery armor, almost penetrating to the flesh beneath.
I find myself being pulled forward. Hot, angry breath radiates from the man's mouth. Dull pupils are illuminated from reflections of random light. An unshaven jaw vibrates fearfully at the lower part of his skull.
"Why can I not find…the…dead…"
You need to make this fool dead!
His pace of speech slows as he glares at me. Facial features become more apparent as he draws towards me. Quickened breathing is released disgustingly against my flesh. His eyes widen, and his jaw quivers fearfully. It is as if he just had the realization of his life...
You need to him a second realization with your fist!"
"You. I have been wrong! Too wrong, for so long."
The raving man throws me backwards. I stumble as he flails violently in his spot. His arms wrap awkwardly around his own body. It is almost as if he is trying to give himself a bear hug. This man has truly lost his mind.
"He must be stopped! Stopped! Stopped!"
One of his hands slips into the sleeve of the other.
"The dead must be stopped! The dead must not bring life!"
The hidden hand reemerges. Metal glistens upon the faded light of this land. Curved metal comes to a deadly edge. Only the blade is visible, but that is more than enough to know what he is planning to do…
"He must be stopped! Stopped!"
Hurriedly, he shoots forward. The armed hand flies outward, the tip of death aligning upon me. Reacting fast, I throw my hands at his. I manage to grip his wrists, throwing the blade to my side, just barely missing my stomach.
His free arm ejects from his body, slamming to my shoulder. My body glides with the force, spinning to my right. I am unable to balance myself, and I feel the tug of gravity pulling at my back.
Hopelessly, I reach forward, trying to grab whatever I can. But there is nothing, nothing but the deranged man, and the cold, harsh air. THUMP. A sharp, unnerving pain travels through the back of my skull.
The entire world spins. The entire world flickers briefly. I hit the ground hard, and I am enjoying the repercussions. My arms and legs go numb. The world continues to spin. It continues to flicker. All reality becomes blurred, all but…the man…
"The dead must stay what it is!"
The blade spins in his hand. Death faces downward, a tip pointed towards the earth. He moves forward, directing his sinister plans squarely upon me. As he moves, the shadows follow him.
He shifts quickly, and, oddly, the dark path that follows him flutters and grows unnaturally. His feet shuffle stones, breaking them from his path, but he cannot break the darkness that pursues him.
Rage pumps through his veins as he towers over me. Blind, crazy anger navigates at my weary form. Insane thoughts plan my demise. But all his expressions and focus are lost…to that which shifts at his feet…
The shadows are moving…as if alive…
The darkened patches crawl across the ground, extending outwards. It must be an illusion. It has to be an illusion. This is all but a bad dream. Yes, soon I will wake up, and I will be sitting next to Carlin, planning for another assault on Stratholme and those within.
But as I watch the growing shadows, I come to realize that the only fallacy is my ignorance.
Horrifically, the shadows grow from the ground, forming gaseous tendrils upon the air. The man prepares to strike, but the darkness reaches him before he can find his limp target upon the ground.
Sheets of airy black spin around the legs of the man. He is stopped in his tracks, and once again, he begins to flail. The man tries to dislodge himself from the gripping grasp of the shadowy claws, but they overwhelm his body.
Hundreds of razor thin, black sheets intertwine between the man's appendages. They dance playfully upon his clothing, touching and teasing him gently. He pats at them violently. In return, they drift upon his hands, forearm, and shoulders.
The shadows climb his chest and reach for his head, coming to form two, thick, strands just at his neck. Terrified eyes stare at the shadows. Clenching muscles lock at his chin. Fear is apparent in every movement, every yelp.
Two, separate clouds for each eye, for each side of his head…for all his anguish to be absorbed…
My heart quickens as two separate sheets mold upon the air. Ten, delicate blotches extend upwards, five on each vine. They shift and mold into two, smooth, feminine like hands; black appendages of something unseen, of something unknown…of something…dark…
Then, to my horror and dismay, a sweet, gentle voice radiates upon the air, death itself whispering upon the invisible air.
"You have lost your mind, Cultist." A sweet, yet disconcerting giggle follows briefly, "Let momma relieve your stress, dear."
In a flash, the two, shadowy hands lurch upwards, latching to the man's skull. He begins screaming wildly. He begins to jerk desperately. He…has his head twisted to the side…SNAP. He goes limp…
The man stays standing, held upright by the wrapping strands of airy, delicate, shadowy tendrils. Silence crawls sinisterly from hiding, but is quickly beat away as the sounds of rushing winds fill the air.
All the darkness whips to the backside of the man. Shadows leave the figure to fall forward, slamming lifelessly onto the ground. Shadows converge into a shapeless blob in the air.
This has to be a dream. It has to be.
The black mess vibrates sickeningly. Elongated strands of solid black grow from the sides of the ever-expanding mass. One strand grows from each side as the core of the shadowy horror molds to a shape of an hourglass.
They…are…arms…to a body…
A sweet, gentle laughter tickles the air beautifully. Pale white colors seep into the supposed arms, and creeps down what I am guessing are the legs. Emerging from the top is a sleek oval that too is filled with a white glow.
Thousands of black strands dance from the top of the figure's skull. Delicately they waft upon the wind. Delicately they fall to the figure's face. They form its hair, and they dance across the figure's beautiful…face….
Smooth skin holds the edges of the individual's cheeks. A curved nose glistens majestically upon glinting skin. Two, piercing, black orbs lock upon my being. Eyebrows slant maliciously, matching the sinister smirk growing on her face.
Once all the shaping ceases, I can see the woman before me. Shadows dance like sheets of silk across her body. Tempting skin glistens in the light, intensified by the dark shadows radiating across her body.
She is…gorgeous. Gorgeous…and terrifying…
Her arms bend and sway seductively, while twisting legs taunt me with every move. She is temptation in the form of something purely evil. A temptress, a mistress of the dark, a woman…so…beautiful…
Reality bends and shifts as the pain returns in the back of my skull. It grows rapidly as if displeased by my prior ignorance. I sink into the back of my mind, the world folding into the distance.
You are passing out…
A tightening grips my chest. Air struggles to crawl into my lungs. The edges of my vision are skewed to that of a green tint. This cannot be happening, not now.
As I fade into my own horrors, I see the elegant creature before me bend forward, her spine bent in only a way a seductive woman dare do.
"Don't go and die now." She pulls her hand near her lips. "My heart would be broken if got killed…"
The world grows darker…borders growing jade…
"…By someone other than me."
A giggle dances from her throat. She braces her back with her free hand, while blowing me a kiss with the other.
"Sweet dreams, Hope."
With that, the world becomes a background to my injuries. All thought processes are skewed. All…reality…hazy. Well, Hope, in less than ten minutes, you made an enemy, watched a man die, got threatened by a woman, and got a concussion. Impressive.
So much for taking care of myself…