A New Hope
An Honorable Quest
Jeran awoke with a start. It was so rare that he woke up with a roof over his head that he had to take a moment to gather his memories from the previous night. Looking around he slowly recognized the small room that had been paid for by his mysterious…friend? The thought was strange to him. The man had been brash at their first meeting in Stormwind, but since then had done nothing but give Jeran money and time to think over his offer. Still however, something about the situation was unsettling. He didn't know what or why, simply that his instincts told him to use caution when dealing with his new employer.
He rolled out of bed and gathered his ragged clothes from the various spots they had landed the night before as he tossed them away. Collecting himself in the morning was another routine that was entirely foreign to the priest in his adopted way of life. It had been a long time since the practice encompassed anything other than getting to his feet, which was in itself a challenge some days.
He slowly descended the stairs, looking for the man that had been the cause of all this but was surprised to find the inn relatively empty, save for the innkeeper who it seemed never left the bar. She was a tired looking old woman, but seemed pleasant enough as he approached her.
"Morning dear, can I get you something to eat?" she asked with a smile. "Please." Jeran replied with a nod. Taking his seat at the same table as the night before, it didn't take her long to deliver a simple meal of bread and milk, to which Jeran had no complaints; he wasn't picky. Just as he picked up his first piece a quiet thud behind him raised his awareness to the man he wanted to see. The stranger joined him at the table wearing his own robes from the night before; except for the change of food it was almost as if the conversation had simply been on pause while they slept, and they were ready to continue it.
Jeran wasted no time. "Right, now before we get into any of this business, there are a couple of things I want to know." He said. The man raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing in response. Jeran decided it was safe to proceed. "First, who are you?" he asked. The man leaned back in his chair and gave a small sigh. "My name is Regalus. I am a Priest as well, though not of the same calling as you." He said. "My specialty is manipulating the Shadows, which is why I cannot perform the resurrection myself." He added. Jeran nodded; fair enough. "How do you know about me and my history?" he continued.
Regalus picked up his own bread and began to munch on it between questions. "I studied at the Cathedral in Stormwind, though that was years ago. You were very popular; it's not uncommon for students to still hear about the former masters of the light that have come and gone through the years. When I heard about one whose specialty was resurrection, I dug deeper and discovered who you were, where you were, and – with some difficulty - why you had given up the light." He said. With a sad smile he added "I can't say I blame you; After all, she was -"Jeran raised a hand. "Enough." He said forcefully.
Regalus relented and took another bite. "Anything else?" he asked. Jeran shook his head. "Not about you. Tell me more about the quest." He said. "She was a friend; a druid." Regalus began. "Unlike me, she chose to join a cause, the Cenarion Expedition. They sent her to Blades Edge to study the Fel Corruption that had been spread by the remnants of the legion. In the course of her investigation, she was captured and killed by a dark cult that inhabits the mountains there." He stated simply.
Jeran couldn't help but note the apparent indifference in Regalus' voice as he recounted the tale. It had been a long time since his mind had had any real work, but he still knew a lie when he was told one. "Right, now let's get something straight." He said. Regalus raised an eyebrow curiously. "I don't care why you want this person brought back if you're paying, but I don't like being lied to." He emphasized the last part with disgust. "So last chance. Tell me about the quest."
Regalus smirked. "Come now, I thought we were finally starting to get along." He said. "Tsk. Very well then. It wasn't a complete lie. She was a druid." He chuckled. Noting Jeran's deadpan reaction, he gave a slight scowl before continuing. "She was the master of a guild called A New Hope." He said. "Her name was Islana; Lana for short. She was appealing enough, but I never held much interest in her. Her guild is another matter." He added. "It's an interesting group, one similar to the Argent Crusade or the Shattered Sun Offensive in that they don't recognize racial boundaries. Trolls and Tauren mix with Humans and Gnomes, and more. They've never been looked upon kindly by either side for it, but they keep to themselves and stay out of trouble, so it's not something the powers that be want to devote resources to dealing with, with Pandaria ripe for the taking." He said.
"All of that aside, they are…shall we say, loaded." He continued with a smirk. "The sum of their guild coffers is large enough that a man could be quite comfortable for the rest of his life if he were to possess it, and their unfriendly standing with the authorities make them a prime target for someone who had a clever plan to free them of their burdens." He said slyly. "Naturally you understand why I didn't want to share with you."
Jeran's deadpan look had transformed into a scowl. "So you want me to help you rob a guild?" he said shortly. Regalus rolled his eyes. "Not one for stories, are you?" He asked sarcastically. "Yes, I want you to help me rob a guild." He added. Jeran leaned back in his chair. "Once again I return to the question of how this involves me" He said.
With a sigh, Regalus continued his story. "Unfortunately, as you apparently don't know, guild coffers can only be accessed by those who have been authorized to do so by the guild master." He said. "An easy problem to solve for someone with a quick tongue", he added. "Coincidentally, such a problem is made significantly harder when the guild master lies dead in a valley in Outland without having transferred power to another. The council for A New Hope meets once a year, and at the next meeting they will elect a new master; but I am rather impatient, if a bit of coin and magic on your end can speed up the process."
Jeran didn't know if it bothered him more that he would willingly help the man, or that it really didn't bother him that much in the first place to do so. Either way, he felt contentment at knowing the full story, even if it was less than honorable. He was by no means evil, but if a guild couldn't protect what they had, what business of his was it? He would have to keep aware however, as the true nature of his companion was now revealed.
After a short pause, he turned his gaze to Regalus. "Aye then, I'll need a few things before we go." He said. "New robes, potions, and the like." Regalus gave him another sack of coins. "Use some for the flight to Stormwind and some to get back, but the rest is yours to spend on gear. Meet me back here this afternoon, I will procure horses for us and we'll leave then." He said. With a nod, Jeran turned towards the flight master.
It was later in the day than he expected when he returned, but as promised Regalus sat waiting for him at his same table inside the inn. Jeran had purchased a complete set for himself, consisting of a new pair of comfortable Embersilk boots and pants, as well as a fresh wool shirt. In place of the traditional priestly robe, he had opted for a simple cloak with a hood to pull up since he had never been one for style. Why should I wear a dress around? He had mused to a colleague in the Cathedral once, to which she had only rolled her eyes.
At his side was a satchel which contained several loaves of bread and a collection of health and mana potions, conveniently divided into small vials that could be downed in a single gulp if needed. Hanging off the opposite side was another smaller pouch; this one containing only what was left of the money. The most notable addition however was only a small dagger that he had found from a man near the city's auction house who was glad to be rid of it.
His new clothes were simple, but functional. The more decorated mercenaries and nobles of the Alliance (and he presumed the Horde) wore enchanted robes which augmented the wearer's natural power, but he was far too simple for that. If it kept him dry in the rain, and warm in the cold, he was happy.
With a quick nod to each other, the two men rose atop their horses and set off without much conversation. At the end of the small town, they turned East and as the calm rustle of life died away behind them, Jeran's mind drifted to the days to come. They would be heading to the Dark Portal, undoubtedly. To get there, they would go through bandits in Elwynn, Worgen in Duskwood, Spiders in Deadwind Pass, Orcs in the Swamp of Sorrows, and Demons in the Blasted Lands. And that was only the first half of the trip.
His thoughts were broken up only by a grunt from the side, to which he turned to see his partner looking up at the sky. "We'll camp here for the night." He said simply. With a nod Jeran followed as they turned to make their way into a small clearing off the road far enough that a passing traveler or bandit wouldn't spot them.
Before too long, the furs that would be their beds had been laid out, and Regalus had slipped into his and drifted off to sleep. Jeran however sat awake. Over the course of the day he had become acutely aware of an unsettling feeling. At first, he had dismissed it as simply a bad morning, but when his hands had started shaking, he understood the cause well.
Quietly, he dug into his satchel to the bottom where he found another large vial; if it could be called that – really it was more of a jug. He had picked it up earlier in Stormwind but hidden it to avoid an unnecessary conversation about his reliability. Tearing out the cork he turned it up and felt the relief as his addiction was sated, the alcohol running through him at first like fire, and then like a soothing drink of water. A second drink followed the first, and then a third and a fourth. Before long the jug was empty and without ever making it to his feet he rolled sloppily to the side missing his makeshift bed entirely but passed out comfortably nonetheless. There he lay, well fed, in comfortable clothes and on a quest for the first night in years, but under the stars yet again.
Just the way he liked it.
