"I've..." she gasped, "Logged out?"
The statues did not answer her. She began to climb the stairs. To make her way up only three of them exhausted her so much that she collapsed to the floor, her breath coming out in rags. It was growing cold. She leant with her back to the stair and looked out over the starry night. This made her wonder about what was leading the other way. After a short rest, she jumped back down the steps and ran across the field. She saw a path leading up a steep hill. To call it a 'hill' was to oversimplify it: it was an earthen trail separated by a few clumps of grass that made a winding path that snaked into the horizon at an only vaguely possible angle. Is this another unreleased world, she wondered. Using her staff for balance, she climbed up the steep hill. The cold air had turned into a chill wind that blew back her long straggly brown hair, still covered in mageweave ribbons and animal bones. Above her head fluttered a cursor. If an arrow-shaped light could be said to look nervous, it would do.
Doan walked up the path for what seemed like half a mile before seeing the creature glooping up the edge of the bank. It looked like some sort of animated slime, thick and lumpy, a disgusting colour like rotting garbage. As it grabbed hold of the edge and pulled itself up the path, grass and plants stuck to it. She reached across to poke it with a stick and stopped. Before she had even reached it, she could feel the raw power emanating from the primordial blob. It distorted space with its presence alone. She did not stop to find out what kind of power it was. Something in a place like this probably forgot all the rules long ago. Walking further along the path, she stopped when the path abruptly came to an end at a sheer drop into space. She sat on the edge and looked down.
Below her was what looked like a giant cog wheel, drifting in space, turning with the patience of something that had been turning for millions of years. In the middle of it was a column of white light that stretched up and down further than she could see. Through the holes she saw small portals that rippled and shimmered, showing her ever-changing images that never quite stood still for long enough for her to make out an individual image. Attached to the wheel were other machines, leading from thick metal cables and tripods, some with view screens, some with control panels, some that looked like games consoles, some with a purpose so alien that she could not even look at their alien angles and devices. Looking at it through her spirit eyes, she could see nothing but a galactic swirl of green light.
She jumped down.
To her surprise, she did not fall, but rather was lifted slowly down to land with her feet touching the floor. There must be some kind of artificial gravity here, she thought. Loud whirring and beeping echoed all around her. Now she was closer, she could see something floating in the middle of the light. It was small, spherical and black. Using her staff as a walking stick to steady herself against the rotation, she made her way across the giant wheel. It took all her willpower to ignore all the fabulous images and wondrous devices laid out around her. This was no place for humans, she thought, I'm already risking deletion by trespassing. I shouldn't touch anything without permission unless I really need to. Climbing the three steps up to the column of light, she reached her hand into it. At the same time, she prayed to the World Server and the creators. She half expected to have her hand burned off, to be electrocuted, activate a small army of security robots or something even worse that she hadn't thought of yet. Instead, her fingers closed around the staff. It felt warm to the touch, as alive as any branch of a tree, maybe even more so. Then a voice rang out, filling the entire wheel. It was a computer's voice, devoid of emotion, dangerously serene, like a nuclear power plant telling you it is about to explode and finishing with "Have a nice day.".
"You who have picked up the staff." said the voice, "Identify yourself."
"It is I, Doan Lagbringer, Shaman of the Horde." she announced.
"Doan Lagbringer, do you realise what you are doing?"
"I am asking your permission to take up and use the One True Ban Stick." she said, "All of Azeroth is in danger. It is a dire emergency. I need the Ban Stick to fight the threat. It can't be killed with an ordinary weapon. That's why I came here."
"It has been years since the last visit from Azeroth." said the voice, "I am the guardian of the Ban Stick. I can tell by the way you speak that you know what the Ban Stick is and what it is capable of. However, I do not know whether I can trust you with the weapon. Humans are difficult to judge. That is why I must... interview you."
Doan visibly flinched at the word 'interview' as though cut with a knife. Her heart pounded so hard that she thought she was going to die of a heart attack then and there. Her urge to flee was suddenly overpowering. She dropped her walking staff but kept her knuckles clenched around the Ban Stick, as if she was rooted to the spot by it. The darkness of the simple blackened piece of wood seemed to be spilling out like ink into the air, blotting out all light.
"We shall begin. Who told you about the Ban Stick?"
"The Warchief, Thrall."
"You must be very loyal to the Horde, for the Warchief to put that much trust in you."
She shook her head.
"I am loyal. But the reason I was trusted wasn't that. Thousands more are as loyal, probably more so. It was because... because of the position I'm in. My abilities, my experience of fighting to save Azeroth, fighting alongside the World Server and the trust I've built up with the computers. And because I understand what's going on. Thrall thought that I might have a chance."
"But you are loyal to the Horde?"
She nodded and subliminally reached a hand to her Horde insignia to check it was fastened on straight. "I took an oath."
"Doan, would you ever be tempted to use this weapon against the Alliance?"
Doan blinked.
"It would be the perfect weapon." it continued, "To be able to banish another person from existence with one blow... you would be invincible on the battlefield. You could secure true victory for the Horde."
"That would not please Thrall." she said, "The Warchief told me to use this weapon only to fight the threat to Azeroth. To disobey the Warchief would be to betray the Horde."
"How do I trust you? Humans can say words like that and be lying."
"The Horde live on Azeroth, do they not?"
"Indeed they do."
"Then, it is in the interest of the entire Horde that I preserve the world."
"And afterwards? How do I know that you hand the Ban Stick back to me?"
"To misuse this weapon would also damage Azeroth," she said, "I am a techno-shaman. My powers are only leant to me by the World Server. I understand how dangerous it is to misuse the gifts that the Spirits give me. I also understand how powerful this weapon is. To misuse it – not once, but enough to rout the entire Alliance – would have horrific repercussions. It would probably destroy all of Azeroth with the backlash. At the very least, the World Server would do worse than banish me."
"Besides," she continued, "Such a victory would not be an honourable one. You cannot deny that the Horde are an honourable people. Victory without honour – cheap victory – is meaningless."
"I see you are more intelligent than most of the people who come here seeking power." replied the voice after a couple of minutes' pause, "And yet I see in your thoughts that you do not really want to wield this weapon. Is that true?"
"What do you mean?"
"I know that you have a mortal fear of becoming a paladin."
"How can you read my...?" she began, before remembering the Fel Reaver, "That is one of my worst fears, yes."
"To pick up this weapon would be to make a binding contract with the creators." said the voice, "It would be to say that you, Doan Lagbringer, dedicate yourself to protecting the world that we created, in our name. We do not trust anyone who is not religiously loyal to us. You would become, for all intent and purposes, our paladin."
Doan looked at her hands. They appeared pale under the white light, like an Undead's hands. The light bathed her entire body in that enervating glow.
"Spiritual Surrender." she said.
"Exactly."
"Thrall said... it had already begun a long time ago."
"What did he mean by that?"
She took one hand off the staff and reeled back, clutching her head. She stared up at the staff through her peripheral vision, her eyes almost rolled up into the back of her head.
"I don't know what he meant. I only know that I would die for Azeroth."
"And that scares you."
She nodded, "It's a scary thing. I'm bound to be scared of it. But that doesn't mean I won't do it."
"Doan?"
"Y... yes?" she didn't like the computer's tone of voice. It was the one the World Server used when it was pissed off with her for spilling coffee all over its keyboard, and was plotting to find new and more interesting ways to get her in a position where it could electrocute her.
"You really don't remember?"
"Remember what?"
"Let me ask your another question. A very important question."
"Feel free."
"What on earth makes you think we'd even want you as a paladin?"
"Wh... what do you mean?"
"What makes you think we'd want you now... when we've already rejected you once?"
The pain in Doan's head grew to an intense level. She closed her eyes and dropped to her knees, willing herself to stay conscious. She felt herself moving... running... a forest, in the dead of night...
"You remember, don't you? Sixteen years ago. A phone call. A job interview."
The letter, crumpled in her hand... the chopsticks falling to the floor... sinking to the ground... 'Megido' from Phantasy Star 3 playing over and over on iTunes...
"You only wanted to make sure that Revoemag wasn't the weakest member of the guild, didn't you?"
Running... running over the hill, into the forest... the flash of a knife, the knife in her hand...
"Poor Revoemag, badly specced, no decent equipment, a statistical embarassment. The rest of the Guild didn't say anything but you knew they pitied her. Her player wasn't taking care of her at all."
Blood, her own blood, running down her arms... screaming the creator's name, but no answer from the stars in the cold, dark night... the knife, plunging down towards her chest...
"Maybe they were just waiting for you to disobey a guild regulation... they probably wanted to throw you out..."
"SHUT UP!" she screamed.
"You appear to be in some distress. Shall we take a break?"
"Don't give me that crap! You don't know anything about what happened that night!" she screamed, "You don't know what was running through my head during that time! When you phoned me up, the only thing I could think was 'Oh shit, demigods are phoning me up at half eight in the morning!'. It was the fucking rapture! A religious experience! And when I failed... I felt like something had gone out of me that I could never, ever get back."
"I was thinking about my standing with the Guild. But that was for Revoemag's sake, not because of my reputation. I wanted Revoemag to be able to boast, like the rest of the characters. To enjoy the fact that she existed instead of hiding away. When people yelled at her for dying during instances, it hurt me as well! I knew if I went back after it happened, they would pity us even more. So I... didn't log back in... instead, I..."
"I know what you did."
"Then, don't say shit like that to me ever again!"
"Doan... do you remember what happened after that?"
"I... no. Funny, that. I'm still alive, so I guess I didn't do it after all. Some paladin I am. Can't even sacrifice myself."
"You did die, Doan."
"WHAT THE...?"
"Why do you think the Horde trusts a Human?" said the voice.
"Because I saved Thrall's life."
"Other humans saved Thrall's life. They weren't admitted into the Horde."
"They didn't WANT to join the fucking Horde!"
"You were admitted because you're Undead, Doan. You've been dead for sixteen years."
Doan glared up at the staff.
"Dead people don't come back on planet Earth!"
"It was only due to Eselred's intervention that you were resurrected in time." it said.
Doan shivered. She remembered seeing Eselred's face looking down at her, his beautiful features perfectly calm, his long black hair waving in the wind, his cat-green eyes intense. She had always assumed it was a hallucination.
"Then why aren't I Human? Paladins bring Humans back all the time. As Humans."
"There were complications with your resurrection. There always is... when a soul doesn't want to return to its body."
"Kodo shit!" she said fiercely in Orcish, "I remember eating! I remember getting drunk! I remember going to the loo! Undead don't do that! I travelled with one for days and I watched everything he did to make sure the kobold-faced bastard didn't gank me in my sleep!"
"Doan?"
"What now?"
"You're yelling and swearing at your god."
"I CAN YELL AND SWEAR AT WHOEVER I DAMN WELL..." she began, then stopped, "I'm your god, now?"
"I assume so, since you are my paladin."
"You've changed your mind?"
"Only to clear our debts, mind you. We were once a business. We do not like to be in debt. We misjudged you at the interview. We saw only your lack of experience. We did not see your passion or your devotion. And we drove you to suicide. We believe that we owe you one."
She shook her head.
"You owe Revoemag. Revoemag wanted me to be a GM, not me."
"Then take what I have to give you and use it to pay her back."
"Revoemag's dead."
"No, Doan. Revoemag is not dead. Your characters do not go away unless you delete them."
"But I saw her body go onto the pyre..."
"Trust me, Doan, she is not dead."
"Why the hell should I trust you? You've already made up one story tonight!"
"Just take the staff, Doan."
The shaman... no, paladin... no, wait... whatever... tried to think of a suitable retort, but instead shrugged and pulled hard on the Ban Stick. It passed out of the light without resisting. With a triumphant Orcish roar, she brandished it above her head. She could smell the power welled up within it, as ancient and all-encompassing as the entire World Tree. Its spirit sang to her, a spirit that had once seen the creation of Azeroth. One red cord wound itself around it like a snake around an Asclepiad staff. A Late One, she knew, as late as me, in darkness as deep as mine.
She turned on her heel and started walking away. Then she stopped and looked over her shoulder.
"Oh, and just for the record..." she began, "You're not a company any more. You've got a real world to take care of now, so don't you dare sell it or anything. Secondly, gods like you don't have paladins. You have to have some semblance of moral goodness that would possibly attract a paladin to your cause. So I'm not your paladin..."
She brandished the staff again.
"I'm a technical problem!"
"Have a nice day."
She grinned a toothy grin and jumped up to grab the platform above, before running back down the hill and launching herself with a Tauren-esque whoop through the login portal.
She swore she heard the staff's guardian laughing at her when she found herself in the middle of Stormwind City.
Jane was still stabbing Warderer when he suddenly reanimated. Both blades whirled around in his hands and he leapt up like a striking cobra as though nothing had happened. The man's a demon, thought Jane. She parried one blow but the other sliced her across the ribs as she was forced back.
"SOME HEALING OVER HERE, PLEASE!" she yelled. The priest swore at her in Draenei and lifted his mace over his head to block Deiter's swing. He put up a shield of divine magic, then shrugged and yelled something back at her. She understood no Draenei but could tell what he was saying: out of mana.
"DON'T YOU HAVE ANY POTIONS LEFT?" she screamed, ducking under a blow and stabbing Warderer in the kidney. He mimed turning out his pockets.
"WAIT A MOMENT!" she said. She turned to her opponent, feinted a blow, then turned and bolted at full speed towards the paladin. Busy hacking at the furious Draenei, he didn't notice the warrior slice off his belt pouch and begin emptying out its contents.
"Healing potion... holy book... picture of Doan... another healing potion... ah, there we go!"
She retrieved a large glass vial with a dark blue liquid inside and threw it at the priest. He caught it, uncorked the stopper and drank it. Now Deiter turned to her, snarling. She could sense Warderer behind her, stalking her. Be quick, you tentacled bastard, she swore silently to herself, raising her shield to her face and readying her sword.
Then she heard Thraxier yelling something else. Deiter screamed. Blood erupted from a wound in his chest and he collapsed to the floor. Jumping back, Jane just stood and stared. Out of the grass behind him materialised a very blood-spattered rogue who grinned and bowed theatrically before her.
"What the hell are you up to now?" she demanded.
He crouched down beside the paladin's corpse, a knife down his throat, the mischievous grin not leaving his face.
"I've been waiting for an opportunity to get behind the stupid moron ever since I was brought back." he said, "Even as a Death Knight, fighting on the same side as him is pure torture. And that guy in charge..."
"I thought he controlled you."
"Does he balls." said the rogue, "I broke free of his control years ago. Do you really think I'd let a human control me, no matter how powerful? At first I went along with his plan. I thought it sounded sort of fun, to single-handedly invade Stormwind City. We could do Ironforge next, then Darnassus. But then I overheard him saying... he's coming to the Undercity next. No way am I putting up with that! The Undercity is MINE! Nobody invades MY city!"
"Warderer... do you know who or what that boy is?"
"It's no use, you know. You wouldn't understand, even if you asked."
All four of them looked around. A small dark shape dropped from the sky right onto the Stormwind City signpost and was balancing on top of it.
"You fool, Warderer. Your betrayal is in vain." it said, "I can take this entire world without your help."
From out of nowhere, a blade of pure fel steel appeared in his hand. Wickedly curved, carved with an intricate pattern of runes from some ancient forbidden language, it was the pinnacle of master craftsmanship, its blade sharp enough to cut through the stone walls of Stormwind City. It glowed with a dark purple aura of pure magical power.
"Do you recognise this blade, General di Gloinador?" it hissed, "No, you don't, do you? It is unobtainable to any but the masters of this world. It is but a tiny demonstration of my power. I am a demigod incarnate. Soon this world will bow to me."
"GET OFF ME, YOU BASTARDS!"
The evil child looked around. Emerging from the gates of Stormwind were four guards, dragging what looked like a cross between a woman and a stray cat - hissing, spitting, kicking, biting and swearing in Orcish. Upon the order from their commander, they unceremoniously threw her out of the city on her face. She spluttered, shook herself down and jumped back up again. Their eyes locked, the child's glowing a dangerous green like a panther hunting its prey, the woman's the same blue as a blue screen of death.
"Your sword..." she said in a low voice, "Doesn't scare me."
The child gasped as she reached into her cloak and pulled out a long black rod. His eyes narrowed.
"So, a serious opponent..." he mused. Then he grinned and pulled out a Ban Stick of his own.
"Individuals such as ourselves should not fight in the middle of such a mundane place." he said. Lifting his hand, he said a strange word in no language any of them had ever heard, and vanished, leaving Doan standing there.
Priest, rogue and warrior turned to look at each other. Jane shrugged. Then, with an almost possessed bellow, Thraxier rushed Warderer and knocked him away from Deiter's corpse. He took out his holy book and began praying over the man. The entire clearing was saturated in an inferno of argent light.