A breeze gently stroked her cheek, causing her red hair to flutter lightly across her cheek. Melida lay in the bed, her body twisted slightly as she tossed a little. Her eyes fluttered, and she began to stir. Quietly, she turned onto her back and looked up. The room looked strangely familiar, and she remembered waking up in here before. She recalled running out of the room, and bursting onto the deck, and yet it was at that point that her memory went blank. She tried delving further, but she couldn't seem to recall anything. Sighing, she looked around, taking in her surroundings.
The room smelt funny. It had an oaken scent, with an under not of something else. Something vile. Sighing again, she removed her covers and stood up. Moving to a mirror hanging on the wall, she noticed several boxes with bright red crosses on them. No sure what they meant, she gently pried the lid off one of them, and found a multitude of potions stacked neatly inside. She felt nausea beginning to come on, but she resisted it. Reaching in, she pulled out of the potions. It was blood red, but had a translucent quality to it as well. Popping the cork, she took a whiff. It smelt of herbs, and alcohol. Curiosity began to bite at the back of her mind. She moved to put it back, but second thoughts assaulted her.
After a minute of mixed decisions, she finally gave in, and took a sip. The nausea immediately dissipated. It tasted of Alcohol and had a foul flowery flavour underneath. However, she felt immensely better after drinking it. So she took another sip. Her neck began to tingle, and she noticed a gash in it. As she looked at it, her mind focused on it, and a tingling sensation began to build up there. She screamed in shock at first, while she watched the flesh knit itself back together. However, it didn't last long, and when it stopped, her neck didn't look much different. She eyed the potion in her hand, and forced down another mouthful this time. Nothing happened, and she turned her eyes back to the gash. Still nothing. She focused on it a little bit, and the flesh began knitting itself back together again.
She continued taking the potion until she couldn't take it any longer. Her neck looked fully healed, but there remained a nasty scar. She panted a little, the healing process a little more taxing then she'd expected. Taking a look at the potion, she tossed it out the window and replaced the lid on the box. Looking over herself and deeming the tattered clothing at least covering enough to go out in public, she made for the door. When she got there, she struggled with indecision for a while before swallowing her fear and opening it. She stepped onto the deck, and the faint smell of cooked meat clung to her nose. At this point, she realised how hungry she was, and actually buckled in pain at the hunger cramp.
Recovering, she righted herself, and looked around a little. The sun was rising just barely over the lip of the horizon, its orange glow burning into her eyes, while the moon was setting on the opposite side of the ship. Both were amazingly bright, and Melida was awed by the beauty of it. Adjusting her gaze, her nose caught the scent of something that made her stomach growl. She couldn't quite place it, but sniffed harder, trying to discern its location. After a moment, she realized it was coming from the lower deck, and she ran towards the stairs. Over the hum of the engines in the back of the boat, she could hear the slight sizzling sounds of a kitchen. She made her way through the hallways, and found a room filled with tables, and an adjoining room with a counter at one of its two entrances. A man darted out a pair of flapping doors, grabbed something off the counter and disappeared back into the room's depths.
Glancing around, Melida noted several men, all drab and exhausted looking. What appeared to be a family without a mother sat at the back, each eating from a bowl of stew she assumed. She quietly made her way up to the counter, and took a seat on a chair. After a little while the man came rushing back into the room, and he spotted her.
"Oh, great." He muttered under his breath, "Hello kido. Is there anything I can get for you." He said, reaching behind the counter and pulling up a pair of pots. Melida looked at him a moment, before answering,
"Uh, actually. Is there any food I could have?" She asked, feeling strangely rude. The man sighed. Grabbing his pot, he grumbled something about too many mouths to feed. He made his way back through the double doors, and disappeared for a moment. Melida felt she'd angered him, but before she could do anything, he popped his head back out.
"You wouldn't know how to cook by any chance would ye?" He asked, stirring a bowl of batter while waiting for her answer. The question actually made Melida feel surprisingly calmer. She grinned at him,
"Actually, I work in the Castle kitchens back in Stormwind." She said. The man looked at her a moment.
"Honest?"
Melida nodded her head. The man collapsed against the wall on her side of the doors, wiping his brow and getting a little batter in his hair. 'Thank the light." He looked her over again. "Alright, you can help me cook. You'll get breakfast out of it. Sound good?"
Melida felt strangely calm around this man, and nodded again.
"Alright well, through that door." He said, referring to the other one. Melida jumped off the stool, attracting a couple of anxious glances from nearby sailors. Not even noticing them, she rushed to the door, her hunger egging her on more then actual want. Walking through them, she saw a bunch of aprons hung against the wall. Grabbing one, she walked down the hall, and still putting it on, met up with the man.
"Eh, I see you know what your doing…" He said. Melida smiled at him. "Okay, well today's breakfast is fried dough. He said, motioning to a large stove with a flat black stone cover that had a bunch of flat pieces of batter resting on it. They sizzled as the butter helped cook them. The smell was plain, but it made her mouth water none the less. A hunger pang coursed through her, but she shoved it away.
"Great, I love pancakes." She said, reaching for one of the cooked one. A wooden spoon clacked her hand,
"Hey, you get fed when everyone else is fed. God knows I haven't eaten yet." He said. Melida glared at him, thinking that she probably would have been fed sooner if she'd not offered help. "Been here alone too, so it's bloody difficult to feed this many people. Anyway, think you can pass those out?" He said, motioning to the food she'd just tried to eat. He cast her a smug little smirk, and she glared at him.
"Fine."
Grabbing the plated, she moved into the mess hall.
"One each!" He heard him call after her. Sighing to herself, she moved as quickly as she could, passing them out. She managed to give one to almost everyone in the room. As she came across the family in the back, she tried not to notice the son's severed hand. The father was missing an eye, but both wounds hand been bandaged properly. She served them as quickly as possible, and almost ran back into the kitchen. The image of the boy trying to eat with one hand still fresh in her mind, she jumped when the cook talked to her.
"Well… That was fast." He said. Melida nodded, not really paying attention. "Alright, go start cooking those," he said motioning to the ones on the grill." Melida shook her head, and moved towards it. The cook went back to his batter, pulling down jars of powders and herbs. He ground some down and mixed it in, and sprinkled some powder in afterwards. Melida looked over from the grill.
"Is spice really that important. I mean, I don't think they really care…" She said, looking at the double doors. The cook grunted,
"These aren't spices. They're herbs and crushed up minerals to prevent scurvy."
Melida cast him a doubting look.
"Yeah, one of my cook hands didn't believe me either. He wound up killing three men before he fixed it." Melida looked a little shocked, but tried to hide it by cooking. "Don't worry bout' it." He said, "Happens more then you'd think." He said, tossing the last of the powder into the bowl. Turning it over times with a wooden spoon, he moved towards the stove. Melida quickly started scooping off the cooked ones, and he replaced them with more batter.
And so, Melida spent the next half hour rushing between tables, scooping pancakes and having small chats with the cook. Over that time period she learned that his name was Geoffrey, and that he'd been in the alliance military for several years, before becoming a chef. The ship they were on was called the sea hopper, apparently because it was the fastest ship in the alliance navy. Melida had tried to probe Geoffrey's military history, but he brushed the subject aside with surprising gentleness. The conversation hadn't revolved much around Melida, but Geoffrey chose to rectify that as they sat down at a small table in back.
"So, tell me. Is that old hag Bernice still running the Stormwind kitchens?' He asked, helping himself to a rather large plate of leftover pancakes. Finally able to eat, Melida took a similarly sized plate and sat down beside him.
"No." She said, taking a bite. The flavour was plain enough, but it did have an under note of something salty. "No, she died a few years back." She swallowed, and her hunger came rushing back in spades. Geoffrey watched amused for a dew minutes as she shovelled food into her mouth. After she'd stopped to catch her breath, Geoffrey asked his next question.
"So, if Bernice isn't around anymore… How's keeping charge of you guys?" He asked, putting some pancake into her mouth.
"Oh, well Venst is the head chef now."
Geoffrey choked. He sputtered heavily, and after a moment coughed it up. Melida had moved and was patting his back.
"Are you okay?" She asked, patting him on the back. He coughed a little, but nodded. Melida stood there, but when he reached for the glass of water he had, she felt it safe to sit back down. He drank deeply before talking,
"Venst you say? Venst Hearthglow?" He asked. Melida looked at him a little quizzically.
"Yeah… He's my father." She said.
Geoffrey almost choked again. It was water this time though, so he recovered almost immediately. Melida looked a little confused. While the conversation had stopped, and Geoffrey coughed, the thought of Rict slid across her mind. Hadn't she seen him on this boat? No, she must have dreamt it.
"You. You're his daughter?" He asked, his face flushed red. She smiled and nodded.
"Why. You look more then a little surprised." She said, thinking this could be a good moment to probe him for information. She sat forward, expectantly.
"Yeah, well, I served with your father." He said. She looked at him interested,
"Oh? And where did you guys serve?" She asked, hoping he might slip up this time. To her dismay, he dodged the question,
"Never mind that. How's your mother doing?" He asked. "I remember seeing your brother Check, but I haven't seen Venst since he told me about his son." He went on.
Melida looked away for a moment before swallowing. She looked up,
"My mother died giving birth to me." She said. Geoffrey looked at her horror struck. His stare went blank for a moment, then,
"Damn. Never would have though Vanessa would go out that way." He said quietly. Melida looked at him then said,
"Yeah… Dad said she didn't want to be- Wait. Vanessa?" She said, looking at him confused.
"Your mother." He said, a little confused that she didn't know this. Melida looked at him, her eyes a little bit wide.
"My mother's name was Armena. Vanessa is Check's mom." She said, seeing if eating would help put the uncomfortable edge off the conversation. Surprisingly, it did.
"Oh, so, what about Vanessa?" He asked. Melida shook her head, and he sighed. He put another piece of pancake into his mouth, chewing slowly. After a moment, he looked at her with a curious expression, and asked, "Damn… I never figured she'd go o- Wait, how did Vanessa die?"
Melida paled a little. She'd heard of the devastating effects the plague had on the body. Her father had told her Vanessa had a mild case, but it was still enough to kill her. Melida contemplated her answer before finishing the food she was chewing. "Sickness. She was sick, and dad couldn't find a cure…"
Geoffrey nodded quietly. He didn't touch his food anymore, and Melida hadn't felt inclined to either. The two sat in silence, neither making a move towards contributing to the conversation. After what seemed like forever, Melida chose to thin the tension by changing the subject.
"So uh… How come your working down here alone?" She asked, placing an uneaten pancake back onto the big plate. Geoffrey snorted,
"What kind of question is that? I'm alone because they're dead. Couldn't you use your eyes? There's no way you'd be here if you didn't see the attack." He said, shovelling another bite into his mouth. Melida was a little confused. She could remember muffled screams, and an unbearable smell, but an attack? She tried to dig deeper into her memory as Geoffrey continued speaking.
"Figured you'd know…" She dug deeper, combing her brain, trying to bring something to the surface. All she got were hazy black moments.
"One of em' was from your kitchen too…" Her eyes had glazed slightly from the deep thought, but she tried to listen to him. Still only catching bits of what he was saying, she tried one last time at trying to remember what had happened.
"I think Keith was his name…" Melida's eyes snapped forward at the name. The image of Keith's torn face came flooding full force to the center of her mind. Before Geoffrey could stop her, she'd fallen off her chair, screaming frantically. Several words were incomprehensible, but he made out the names of her Father, mother, brother and… Didn't an elf by the Name of Rict come in earlier?
----------oOo----------
Maiev turned sharply in her bed, her adjustment made all the more sharp by the rocking of the boat. She was sweating again, the sheets damp from her body. She groaned in her sleep, and whispered more then once, "No- no more." She rolled, her body trying to run away from whatever was in her nightmare. She clutched at her waist,
"S-stop!" She cried out feebly, still asleep. She rocked with the waves for a while longer before crying out, "I beg yo-" She couldn't finish what she was saying, because she snapped awake mid way through the sentence. She gazed around the room frantically, like a frightened child, looking for some hidden sound. It wasn't for a time that she realised she was alone.
Lifting the sheets, she gazed at a long scar running down the inside of her right thigh, the purplish skin turned a sickly shade of purplish green. She looked at it, and tried to remain calm. It looked greener then usual. Could he have… No, it was a dream. She tried reassuring herself with that fact, but the lingering feeling of fear clung to her. Slowly, she sank into the pillow of he bed, and tried to calm her heart as the waves rocked the boat from side to side.
Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she looked at the moon and realised that it had been too long since she'd done just that. A single tear slid down her cheek as it sunk beneath the waves, calling the sun up in its wake.
----------oOo----------
Rict was beginning to see a pattern. This was now the third day that he'd woken up to a headache, and the third day he couldn't understand why. Sitting up, he squinted as the sun shined through the window, blinding him. He covered his eyes with an arm, and noticed the form next to him. Oh yeah… He thought, shifting a little. Ridania began to stir a little, then flopped onto her stomach, seemingly undisturbed. Rict sighed. Last night had been great, but he didn't want that kind of relationship with her. Still, he wouldn't have minded going again…
No. I need to go see Melida. He thought, steeling himself. He moved to get up when he felt a small tug. Looking down, he realised Ridania had latched onto his right arm in her sleep. He tugged a little bit, but she didn't seem to want to let go. Sitting back against the pillows, he tried to think of a way out. Luckily, or unluckily enough, one presented itself.
"Thinking of chewing your arm off?" Ridania murmured. Her voice startled Rict, and his left arm flapped around in surprise. He knocked over a brown satchel on a bedside drawer, spilling part of its contents. Out came a metal glove, much too big for Ridania, a pair of tufts of hair, one blonde, the other a sickly pale version of the first, and a multitude of small pink vials. Rict swore, and mumbled something about being sorry as he pulled himself free of her grip and began picking up the objects. He glanced at the hairs as he placed them back into the satchel. Ridania must have heard the apology because,
"Are any of the vials broken?" She asked. Rict shook his head, to which she responded, "Good, pass me one and put the others back… please." She said, rising sleepily from the bed. The cover fell back revealing her breasts. They had a little more hang to them now then before, but still seemed pretty pert to Rict. They looked a little smaller too… Rict shook his head and began piling the vials. He passed one to Ridania, who held onto it for a few moment, grinning at Rict. She eyed the vial then said,
"Hey. If you want to go again, I'm game. And by the looks of it… So are you." She said, slinking towards him through the sheets. Rict pulled away a little, and realised looking at her had set off a growing concern in his groin. (Oh ho ho! Euphemisms abound!) Before his eyes, her breast's hang diminished, and they grew ever so slightly. Putting the last few vials in the bag,
"How did you… I mean when did…" He asked, sputtering a little. He winced as his headache to a sharp stab at the back of his eye. Placing one hand against his left eye, he gritted his teeth in pain. Seemingly not noticing, Ridania continued,
"Well, let's just say there are some advantages to being a druid." She said, running her hand through her hair. It was tousled and messed up, and she began combing it with her fingers to straighten it out. "Oh, don't tell me you can't hold your drink? Had a few too many eh, Brighteyes?" She said grinning at him. Rict glared back at her, but didn't say anything. Ridania slinked a little further if that was even possible. "So?" She asked a second time.
Rict's mind was torn. Part of him knew he should go looking for Melida, but the other half wanted to stay here. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and deciding his course of action.
"Sorry, but I really need to go find Melida." He said, rising from his crouched position on the floor. Ridania grinned and licked her lips. Her hand went in motion, and Rict wondered what she was doing when he felt a cool sensation on his member.
"You sure?" She asked, ever so sweetly. Rict looked at her, but couldn't conceal a grin.
Twenty minutes later, Rict was moving towards the door when Ridania spoke up.
"Hold on Brighteyes, maybe you'd like to stay here a little longer…" She said, her mischievous expression gone as she began to dress.
"No, now I really need to go looking for Melida. She's probably alone and scared in the sick bay, and that's if she even stayed there. For all we know-"
Ridania piped up, pulling her leather tunic other a clean pale green under tunic. "That's great and all but-"
"I can't stay any longer…" He said, moving towards the door.
"That's fine and all but-"
"WHAT?!?"
"Pants dear. You might want to cover up. If she isn't scared already well, you'll definitely have her tearing off in fright." She giggled at him, pulling on her pale brown leather pants. She'd changed her undergarments to another set of Darnassian silk panties and bra, these ones a pale green. Grinning, she tossed Rict his tattered robes. "You wouldn't happen to have any others around would you? These are kind of… Ruined." She finished.
Rict pulled them over his boxers, "No, my luggage got knocked over the rail and all my clothes where-" He cut off for a second. He'd just remembered the robes Jaina gave him. Surely it wouldn't matter if he wore them until he found the owner? Or at least until he got some new robes. "Actually, I have a pair in my room. Come on." He said, slipping into his boots.
"Hey! What makes you think I'm coming with you?" She asked, leaning forward a little with her hands on her hips, trying ever so slightly to look imposing. Rict just grinned at her,
"What else are you going to do?" He asked, moving out the door. Ridania looked towards the ceiling, shrugged and then proceeded to follow him. She still had the pink vial in her hands, and as the two went through the ships hallways, she downed it. Unable to contain his curiosity, Rict asked, "What on Azeroth is that anyway?"
Ridania swallowed deeply before answering. "Oh, well, I know a thing or two about Alchemy." She said, putting the vial into a small bag she had slung over her shoulder. She carried her staff in her left hand, but she used that arm to wipe her mouth.
"That's great, but it doesn't answer my question. What did you just drink." He asked again, going round a corner. Ridania laughed at that,
"Oh, its just a contraceptive."
"A what?" He asked, going around the last corner.
"Let's just say you don't need to worry about me having kids." She said, winking at him. Rict literally stopped mid stride. It had never occurred to him that he could have gotten her pregnant, and now that he thought about it, the idea appealed and terrified him all at once. He knew night elves had a low pregnancy rate, but still… His mind wandered through his memories, and a cold shock came over him as he remembered how many vials she had.
"Hey, earth to Rict. I said which one of these rooms is yours." Ridania said, tapping her foot a little impatiently. Rict'thiel shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He turned to a door on his right, recognising the number, and opened the one beside it.
"This one. Hold on here, I'll be right back." He stepped into the room, and heard the door click behind him. Glancing back he saw that Ridania had followed him into the room. Her back to the wall, she looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "You can wait outside you know." He said, pulling the satchel he brought onto the ship open. He felt gloved hands slide down his back,
"Oh I'm fine right here."
----------oOo----------
Another Vrykul patrol passed by the corridor. Not particularly alert, they didn't notice the crouched form skulking in the coven beside a pillar and the high sloping walls of the keep. They continued on their way, a single worg taking a lingering look at the hall they'd just crossed before being tugged along by the Vrykul directing it.
Brann breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment he'd thought the worg had sniffed him out, but it hadn't and so he continued on his way. He'd been sneaking through the keep for hours, and he'd overheard a pair of Vrykul discussing a map room used by the keep strategist. He'd been trying to get there for a while now, and he was finally almost there. He pulled on a pair of black gloves, and admired them a moment. Magni's daughter had made them for him before she'd disappeared. The cloth was woven to such an extent that they provided amazing traction, and with enough upper body strength, would allow the wearer to climb almost any surface.
He grabbed the pillar, and silently shimmied his way up to the rafters supporting the ceiling. They were made of wood, but were impeccably solid. For all their cannibalism and insanity, the Vrykul built impressively sturdy structures. He wove his way through the supports, and only stopped for another passing patrol. He saw the glass of the window that was situated at the top of the doors into the map room. After the patrol left, he covered the final distance to the window. Again checking that no one was around, he slid a diamond edged knife from his side. This one was a gift from Muradin, forged from the metal found near his camp in the Storm peaks. Brann whispered an incantation, and the blade glowed for a fraction of a second before looking again. The only difference was the sharp sheen of the blade's edge.
He traced a circle in the glass, stopping only to attach an abnormally large snail to the surface of the glass. He finished the circle, and then pulled gently on the snail's shell, pulling the piece of glass towards him. He placed the glass snugly in the rafter, removing the snail and putting it make in its small tin in his pack. The glass had been tinted, but Brann had still been able to discern some movement in the room. Poking his head through, he quickly tucked it back in, spotting a patrol making its way quickly through the room. Brann waited for another patrol, trying to gauge how much time he could spend in that room before he had to leave. Seven minutes went by, and Brann could only chuckle to himself as the next patrol entered, it too hurrying past through the room. They seemed unnerved by something, and Brann felt it too. Something evil frequented this room. Often too. As the passed through the chamber, shutting the door behind them, Brann rubbed his hands together, and moved out the window. This was going to hurt.
He grabbed the edge of the thick glass in the window, and slowly slid down the wall, using all his upper body strength to keep him pressed against the smooth stone. He could feel the heat of the friction burning his hands, and he let go when he was a few feet off the floor. Regain his posture as he thudded to the ground, Brann didn't waste time. Grabbing a gnomish invention he'd tinkered with, Brann set to work photographing the various maps on the large table. The smell of burnt parchment wafted up to his nose, and quickly began removing the burned photographs from the camera's load out. He smiled at himself. He needed to make some more of these. The magic was really tricky, and capturing the right fire essence was difficult, but it was worth it.
He noticed a pile of scrolls, bound in what appeared to be a cord made of skin, sitting on the table. He pulled one of them out, and read it. It was various invasion orders. Seems the Vrykul were done bidding their time in their keep. Brann didn't finish reading it, instead pocketing it and trying the bunch of scrolls back up. He grabbed some of the maps on the table too, the ones that had duplicates, and folded them up into his pack as well. He began moving to the wall he'd climbed down when something caught his eye. The carvings etched into the sides of the walls seemed to depict the Vrykul battling some small enemy. Judging from the wounded on both sides, Brann figured the adversary must have been pretty powerful. He moved closer and took a better look. What he saw made him gasp.
They appeared to be dwarves. Brann didn't know of any dwarves that originated in Northrend, so this intrigued him. He pulled out the camera and moved to take a picture, when he noticed he was out of the enchanted parchment. Sighing, he stuffed it away and pulled out a large sheet of parchment and a rubbing stone. He set to work furiously, the rubbing noise reverberating quietly around the room. The sound had a hypnotic effect on Brann, but he shook his head to clear his muddled thoughts and rubbing harder. He finished one half of the carving, and set to work on the other. The smell of the rubbing stone grinding against his parchment wafted up to his nose, no too dissimilar to the smell created by his camera. He was almost done when he felt a warm breeze against his neck. He shifted his pack. Besides being magically enchanted to resist water and humidity, it had a small mirror that Brann peaked into. Standing directly behind him was a dark grey worg, its mouth open, saliva dripping from it fangs.
It lunged forward, and Brann silently regretted not leaving right away. He turned and flopped onto his left side, grabbing one of the pistols at his waist. The Worg lunged at him, its mouth clamping over Brann's arm and gun. Brann stuffed his hand down the beast's throat, and on reflex, it gagged. It mouth opened, and Brann fired a single round up into its head. The beast twitched, then fell off him. Brann ripped his arm out, and began running for the wall he'd entered. He took a moment mid stride to look at his arm, and breathed in relief as he saw that the chain mail was dented, but otherwise unharmed. He'd need to thank his brother later. Again…
He jumped to the wall, and an arrow thudded in where he'd been a second ago. Brann swore. He wouldn't be able to climb if he was under fire. As he hit the wall, he pushed off it with his feet. In mid air he holstered his pistol and jammed the rubbed parchment into his pack. In the same fluid motion, he pulled out his favourite weapon. A clockwork rifle of Goblin design, it fed ammunition into the rifle as he fired, removing the problem of having to waste time reloading. It wasn't particularly quick about it, but it kept his hands free.
He tucked into a roll as he hit the ground, coming up in a crouch. He quickly took a pot shot at the Vrykul archer that had appeared by the door. Tagging the man in his left arm, he watched it go limped before sliding out the bayonet on his rifle. A second vrykul was coming at him, a large crudely forged sword sweeping down in an arc, aimed to cleave him in two. Brann jumped forward, moving around the blade as it followed its trajectory, cleaving into the floor where he'd just been. Brann found himself on his attacked left, and quickly plunged his bayonet into the man's stomach as he recovered from his swipe. As the bayonet entered, Brann heard the chime signalling that another round had been loaded into his rifle. In a single motion, he pulled the rifle out and rolled to the side, stopping and taking a shot at the Vrykul's exposed head. Brann didn't miss point blank shots.
Another arrow came whizzing in and buried itself into the side of Brann's pack. He looked up to see the Vrykul swear and begin notching another arrow. Brann began running to the table for cover, when he heard that familiar chime again. Mid step he planted his foot into the ground, falling to his back and raising the barrel. An arrow plunked into the ground where he'd been running. The Vrykul saw him raising the barrel and dived to the side. Brann compensated and sunk a shot into the Vrykul neck. The man sputtered on the floor a little, blood pouring out all over. Brann ran past him, stopping only to put him out of his misery. This cost him his chance to make a stealthy escape. Another patrol came through the door, and Brann swore as he spotted a woman among them. The witch didn't hesitate; her arms already flying into the motions for a spell.
Brann bolted out the door. He ran as fast as he legs would carry him, and then some. He turned to go down one corridor, then saw some Vrykuls in it and kept running. Mercifully, they weren't aware of his presence until the other patrol came charging past. Brann skidded around a turn and saw his chance. Grabbing the rope and hook attached to his waist, he swung it out and hooked it onto the rafters above what appeared to be a disposal shaft. He couldn't see the bottom, but he jumped out anyway, and began shimmying down the rope.
He hadn't gotten ten feet when a blade came out, severing the rope he was holding onto. The last thing Brann saw as he plummeted down was the face of a peculiar Vrykul, as well as two arrows whizzing in where he'd been moments ago.
----------oOo----------
Maiev sat quietly in the washtub. Her bedroom and Rict's shared a bathroom, and through a series of clever pipes and valves, one could get cold water to fill the basin. She hadn't been able to fall back asleep after she'd woken up. She traced a line over the scar under left tit. It wasn't particularly long, but this one bothered her the most because it was the most visible. It slid its way from the bottom of her handful-sized breast down the side of her body, to rest right before her undergarment line. The healers said if she bathed in a moon well, the scars would seemingly vanish. Maiev still hadn't gotten a chance to do just that.
She remembered him quietly. They way he struck her if she refused, they way he brought himself roughly, they way he scarred her for pleasure. She shuddered involuntarily, and sighed. That was over, and she needed to stop thinking about it, but whenever she saw those scars the memories came flooding back. She really needed to find a moon well. Soon.
----------oOo----------
Ridania and Rict immerged from his room a good fifteen minutes later. Ridania smirked to herself. She'd been with a lot of men. More then was probably considered healthy. But transforming into animals all the time had a certain effect on ones libido, especially in spring. Rict'thiel had been a virgin, that much she could tell. He'd tried to stop her at first, but the new ones always come back for more. Still though, there was something about him. She couldn't quite place it, only that she'd experienced it before.
She's originally thought she'd packed too many vials when she'd set off, but seeing as she intended to follow Rict around a little longer, she figured maybe she hadn't. The only part she was regretting was the cramps she'd get in a couple of hours. Killing kids always came with its price, she reminded herself. She needed to look at the formula for that potion when she got a chance. Maybe try and make the cramps at least a little less painful.
Rict followed behind her, and the two wove their way through the ships metal and wood hallways, trying to find the sickbay. Rict was adjusting the robes he was wearing. Apparently they weren't his, but they seemed to fit him like a glove. The dark purple when brilliantly with his hair, and the silver belt clashed well with the robe. The jewels woven in at some places seemed a little over done, but they went well with it none the less. It suited him too, what with him being a fire mage.
Ridania had a little mental short step for a moment. She'd tried to stay away from fire mages ever since… Must go there Rida. She thought to herself. Instead, she began to listen to Rict who'd been talking for a few seconds.
"Hey, you know you said there were certain perks to being a druid. If I learnt druidic magic, could I…" He asked, blushing a little and trying to laugh away his unease. They went around another corner.
"He he, sorry Brighteyes. You're not the first to ask that. Only a few people can do it, and only my instructor and I are the ones that I'm aware of who can. I'm sure there are others, I just haven't met them. "Besides, you couldn't learn druidic magic anyway. You need night elfin blood for that. Sorry kiddo." She said, swinging her hip to the side and bashing Rict into the wall. She watched in amusement as his feet literally left the ground. She'd morphed the muscles in her legs when he wasn't looking, and now she shifted back. Rict just glared at her.
"Yeah, like I haven't been hurt enough yet…" He said, wiggling two fingers as they walked.
"Oh well, by all means, if your hips fall off, I'll put those back on too." She snickered. Rict's frown got deeper. Instead of looking at him, Ridania pulled hr gloves on a little tighter. Her staff was slung over her back, secured in its strap. For someone who's just lost his virginity, Rict was taking the day after pretty well. Most guys she met for a one night stand became either clingy, or nonchalant, but Rict hadn't really changed much. Maybe he wasn't a virgin… She thought. Rict word's woke her form her thoughts.
"You said your instructor could do it too." He said, adjusting the skirt of his robe. "Who is it that taught you druidism?" He said, as they went around another corner. Ridania glanced up and saw the sign leading to the lower deck. The sickbay was directly linked from there. She didn't feel comfortable talking about where she'd learnt her craft, but she answered regardless.
"Ah well, she was a good druid. Not very old either before she died. I think I was the last student she ever taught." Ridania said. She was deliberately forgetting the name, and Rict called her out on it.
"That's all great, but do you have a name?" He said, pulling on his sleeve. Ridania ignored him, ploughing on.
"She taught me how to do semi transformation, which is what you saw. Handy if you want some of the animal's attributes without the hair. Hard to maintain though."
"Ridania. Focus. Who was your teacher?" He asked again. Ridania cast a look to the ground. He didn't take a hint did he?
"She was an amazing druid really. Never thought she would ever die. Always said the way I acted, she'd out live me. Guess I won that argument…" She said, tugging uncomfortably on the edge of her glove. Sighing, she finally answered his question. "And her name Was Armena. Armena Starglow, not stop asking."
Rict paused somewhat mid-step, then continued walking. Ridania gave him a curios look. He'd seemingly gone all rigid when she'd told him her teachers name.
"I've heard that name before… I think. Guh, where have I heard that…" He said, giving his head a little shake. They stepped into the bright light of the deck, blinded momentarily by the shift in light spectrum. Ridania actually gave out a small hiss as her eyes adjusted. Taking a moment to orient themselves, they found the door to the sickbay slightly ajar. Ridania wondered if the child could have left the room, but didn't toy with the notion long. As they entered, they were greeted by an empty room. Rict swore under his breath, but put in.
"Well, if she isn't here, where could she be?" She asked. Rict shook his head, obviously having no idea. "She probably went looking for food. She didn't get anything from me the whole time she was here, and that was two days ago. We should check the kitchens." She said, moving out the door again. Rict nodded, silently appreciative of her coming along.
They quickly made they're way to the mess hall, but hadn't gotten halfway across the deck when they found their quarry. The chef they'd met the previous night was carrying Melida in his arms, towards them.
"Out of the way elf. This one needs the sickbay n-" He stopped. Turning a studying eye over Rict, he continued, "Yer' the one named Rict eh?" He said, continuing towards the sickbay. Rict nodded.
"Eh well, ye better come with me. This one here, Melida's her name, she went into a screaming fit after I mentioned the battle on the ship a few days back. Fell on the floor screaming and yelling ou' names. Yer's among them." He spoke, gruffly opening the door to the sick bay. He placed her on the nearest bed. Ridania moved in closer, and cast some inaudible spell. Green light rippled joyfully out of her right hand, pouring into Melida's head. The light continued to flow in for over a minute before Melida's eyes snapped open sleepily.
"Wha- where am I? Who are- Rict!" She exclaimed, trying to lean up in the bed. Ridania firmly pushed her back down.
"Quiet child. What do you remember from a little while ago?" She said, tracing a finger over the scar on Melida's neck. It faded even more, now barely visible.
"I- I uh… I woke up and I was helping Geoffrey serve food. Then we were eating in the kitchens and… and-" Geoffrey made a grunting noise, indicating that as the moment of her fit. "I don't remember anything passed that." Ridania looked at her, then Geoffrey.
"Repressive memory. At least I think that's what it is." She turned back to Melida, "What is your name child?" Ridania knew the answer,
"Melida Hearthglow." Melida said, trying to sit up again.
"What are your parents names?" She asked. This time she didn't know the answer, and gasped when Melida responded.
"Venst Hearthflame and Armena Starglow." She said. Ridania grip softened, and she sat back a little. A single tear welled up in her left eye, and it slid down her cheek. "Why? What's wrong?" Melida asked, suddenly afraid.
"No- nothing. I just knew your mother." Ridania sniffed, wiping the tear from her face. She turned to the Rict and Geoffrey, "Would you two mind waiting outside, I- I need to discuss something with Melida."
Rict nodded slowly, exiting the room. The burly chef took one last glancing look at Melida, then followed suite.
----------oOo----------
Rict paced the door outside the sickbay, while Geoffrey leaned back against the wall. The ship swayed lazily, and Rict listened to the bustle of the crew working the sails. The engine was running full speed too, but it had been damaged in the attack, so they compensated for the lack of speed with wind power. Geoffrey looked at them too, then cast a look at the sun over head. It was roughly mid morning by now, and Ridania and Melida had been in there for more then an hour. Finally,
"Well, I don't know about you, but I aint got time to waste here. Lemme know how she turns out when ye come down for some food." And with that, he rose from his spot and began walking away. He hadn't gotten five steps when the was a soft click, and Ridania exited the room. There was a smug look of satisfaction on her face.
"What was that all about?" Rict piped up. Ridania look at him, grinned, then opened the door again. Melida slid out this time, seemingly happier then Rict had ever seen her, and in her hand, was the small flower pot from the window sill. She looked up at Ridania, who nodded, then turned her gaze back to Rict and an Intrigued Geoffrey.
Her eyes flashed amber, her hair's sheen lightening, and her hair moved slightly, revealing her ears. They seemed more pointed. No one noticed these things though. Their attention was focused solely on the plant in her hand, as her hands had taken on a pale green light, and the plant began to grow.
There was silence as the plant grew, expanding out, over the sides of the small pot, eventually reaching the floor. Finally, Ridania took the pot from the child, and gave the other two one last smirk.
----------oOo----------
The man shifted in his chair, glancing around at the others seated around the table. The commanding officer's quarters weren't anywhere near as luxurious as one might think, with a desk and cot in one corner, the large table dominating the room. Said officer paced behind the desk, his hand in his chin, seemingly locked deep in thought. After a moment, he looked up,
"Is Smiths back yet?" He asked, stopping his pace and looking expectantly at the others around the table. Various lieutenants and captains glanced around the room, looking for the second lieutenant. One spoke up, "No Sir. It seems he hasn't been able to get back from the cliff side camp."
"Shit… Well, we've waited long enough. Brann, explain to these men why we need to either pull out and shore up the main base or evacuate the basin." He said through gritted teeth. Brann walked up, still thoroughly water logged from his trip down the disposal chute.
"Oh come now, It can't be that bad." Said a man, his captains stripes glinting a little on his armour. Brann sighed, pulling out the map he'd found in the middle of the table.
"Oh its bad… Very, very Bad."
Oo-------------oO
Well, there's chapter 6 for you. Most people are wondering where the hell this is going, but if you look back at chapter 1, you'll notice that they are currently heading to Valgarde, to infiltrate the keep and assassinate several important members of the Vrykul military. (I.e. Instance run, though not quite.)
Melida is stuck on board the ship, as no one knows if Stormwind fended off the attack, and they won't receive word while their at sea. It would be too dangerous for a gryphon's rider to fly that far out. More characters are going to be introduced, gradually. I like a slow build personally, and I'm using the ship ride as a method to characterize the protagonists.
