Straydog Saga

Flea 25: The Cat's in the Cradle

The usual bustle in the social districts of Mydrassil's trunk began to quiet. Small buds at the tops of tall branches began to open as a moonless midnight fell over the lightly glowing halls. Bright lights came from within the freshly opened blooms. The tradesman and other contractors were closing up shop and doing the last of their close out duties when a dark shadow approached from the west. A figure rode in on secretive wings; the beast the figure rode upon was sickly and reeked of death as it deposited its rider on the branch-carved west flight deck before returning to the western sky. The flight masters were switching shifts, leaving no one to shine a light on the black cloaked informant. The noble looking hippogryphs began to stir but those who spent the day toiling could not find the energy to move let along alert their handlers. Those beasts that were slotted for the night shift were not yet awake enough to hear the sound of hushed hoof-steps snaking their way into the heart of the trunk.

When the cloaked figure arrived at one of the trunk's lesser-trafficked bars, Night Harry's, he gave a distinctive knock: twice, then once, then three times. He looked around for any signs of life, but to his beating heart's relief the wooden door slowly opened before anyone who might cause trouble could be found in his sight.

"It's about time." The hooded human woman within hissed as she ushered her black-clad guest into what the unsuspecting employees of the dive bar thought to be a wine storage closet. There, at a small table, waited a small group of similarly cloaked spies. They made no greeting or acknowledging gesture as the hulking draenei took his seat. The human woman shifted into her true, ferocious form as she took her seat at the head of the table.

"What news do you bring, Balumbra?" A male human at the head of the table calmly asked beneath an opaque hood.

"We're still gathering the necessary…distractions. Bodyl plans on bringing the mercenaries here in three days or less if possible and my dear sister is helping ensure their cooperation. They'll be more than capable of keeping the warden and her servants busy while we move in, by his measure." Balumbra spoke, doing his best to hide the snide lack of faith in his fellow Twilight's Hammer associate.

"It's taking too LONG. By our spies' measure the wards are nearly finished. Once the warding is done THEY will come. The master will not be happy if we do not get that damn gem out of here before then." The worgen woman informed with an impatient growl. Balumbra nodded.

"You are right. I will return to him with that information. What will be our route once we arrive here with the mercenaries? Has one been decided yet?" Balumbra looked to the worgen at the head of the table and received a curt nod.

"You will take your "distractions" to the east loading dock at 3 am. That is when the dock workers switch shifts. You will enter the roots from there. Do not engage Mizuon and his water elementals if possible, they're more trouble than anything else. You will find a set of portals to the trunk within. We'll provide you with all the necessary maps once we're done here. DO NOT touch the roots; they can kill you in one strike. Make your way to the trade district and you'll find the portals to the upper bough just beyond the west perch. From there one of our operatives will meet you. We'll do our best to ensure that any and all obstructions are removed before you reach the Pinnacle Bough. That is where the gem is housed."

"Shouldn't we steer the mercenaries from the gem while our forces move in? That would pull their attention elsewhere." Balumbra asked with a raised brow. The human at the table cleared his throat.

"They are no fools. There isn't anything in the roots or trunk of any worth to us. If we spread out our forces when taking the gem we may not have enough agents to do it while our people are getting the flight decks and docks on lock down. There are many more of them than us. It would be helpful to bring the…fodder to the gem in case we need additional "shielding" if you catch my meaning." The human spoke, leaning forward on the table and folding his pale hands. Balumbra took the explanation and, unable to see too much fault in the reasoning, shrugged in acceptance.

"And what will happen once we get to the gem?"

"We'll take it from…" The worgen paused and began sniffing the air. She began to growl as the smell of rose water and hibiscus came to her nose. Her ears perked as the sound of trembling breaths became apparent from behind the closed door. The shadow of small, human feet clad in a bar-maid's shoes slowly flickered in the dim lamplight coming from the bar. The young woman, named Gina, had returned after her nightly shift to pick up her boyfriend Tommy's hat, which he'd accidentally left upon his daily visit only to stumble upon a dread meeting. "…we have a mouse." The worgen woman growled, leaping onto the table before pouncing on the door.

A desperate, choked scream burst from the young barmaid as she fled. The door slammed open as the raging worgen shouted for her cohorts to follow. The terrified young human fled with her long, chestnut hair trailing freely behind her. She stumbled as her high-healed shows began to dig into her flesh. Despite the fresh open wounds to the sides of her feet and heal, the shadow that pursued Gina kept her mind tied to the chase.

Gina saw a smoldering light in the smithy where her friend and fellow contractor, Jim, worked and ran towards the building. She pounded on the door, screaming her friend's name and for much needed help. But the only think the drunk and slumbering men within could muster was a heavy snore. Gina had no choice but to keep running along the deserted road around the trade district as the twilight shadow threatened to silence her. She arrived at the west deck, blood staining her shoes and lungs ready to burst. She came to an older dwarf, the west-perch flight master, as tears of relief began to stream down her face.

"Thank the light, please help me!" She screamed and sobbed as the old dwarf began to comfort her.

"What happened, lass? Did someone hurt you?"

"I-I was in Night Harry's. I heard v-voices. Something about an attack, please they're coming!" She sobbed. She felt his strong, supportive grip shift. Her tear filled eyes met his and as a sinister smile came to his bearded lips all of the blood in her heart seemed to freeze.

"Squeak, squeak, squeak, goes the lit-tol mouse." A raspy worgen voice cackled. Gina couldn't move in the dwarf's crushing grip as the terrifying voice of the cloaked worgen came from the flight-deck entrance. Gina turned to see the group slowly approaching as she wriggled in the dwarf's grasp.

"Well done, brother. I'll see to it that the master learns of your good deed." Balumbra smiled. Gina screamed as loudly as she could muster, earning her a stony bunch to the stomach. With the wind knocked out of her, the young waitress sank to her knees.

The worgen woman approached, and took Gina's chin in her furry paw. She slowly, almost gently lifted the girl's face, her green eyes still filled with terrified tears.

"I-I wont tell, I swear, I swear. Please let me go…" Gina weakly begged. The Worgen gave her a small smile before turning to her associates.

"You know what we used to do in Gilneas when we caught a mouse?" She softly spoke as she sharply moved her strong claw to tightly grip Gina's throat. She lifted the struggling girl up and began slowly walking to an empty spot on the flight deck. She held the kicking girl over the guard rail before speaking with disgust and hateful glee. "We'd drop them in a bucket to see how well they could swim." She snarled and, without a single moment of hesitation, opened her clawed hand.

Daggerfang hoisted the sack of supplies and spirits with a strained grunt. While the large burlap sack on his back was heavy with food and drink, his own coin purse felt as if it contained clouds rather than coins. He'd spent a few days in the snow-draped city of Everlook gathering supplies and meeting with a few Steamwheedle Cartel contacts for any known bounty hunters who may have been trolling the area. While there were no mercenaries looking to start trouble with members of Shandori's traveling circus, there was a sentinel presence in town along with several individuals who were seeking aid in capturing, and even killing, wanted criminals.

After speaking with the last of his contacts, Daggerfang checked the wanted board for any fresh postings regarding the group. To his mixed delight there was a wanted poster for his capture with a moderate reward but the drawing was vague and looked nothing like the grinning wolf-man. He noticed that Shandori's bounty had nearly tripled and the images attached seemed far too sinister to be the warrior he came to know. But despite their embellishments, they did get many of her defining features correct: her facial scars, hair style, weight, height, were all on the mark by his eyes.

There was a fresh paper demanding Christoffel's demise. A whopping 5000 gold and precious materials reward made Daggerfang question his own honor, or what little he had left in his current profession. Despite the glittering reward, the poster did not attach a drawing, but the written description was spot on if the reader's attention could be held long enough. A 5000 gold and precious relics reward was more than enough to keep Daggerfang reading every letter on the page.

He shook his head and sighed before prying himself from the temptations of the wanted board and heading into the inn for one last drink before returning to the safe-house.

For a remote location, the Everlook inn was choked with travelers but the majority of the traffic was centered around the room check in and not the bar. He took a seat on one of the small, red stools.

"What'll ya have?" The barkeep asked with a little more cheer than the average goblin. Daggerfang's vision ran over the various tap options. One ornate looking tap adored with a bright blue dragon caught his eye.

"I don't always drink beer, but when I do, I prefer Gos Malys." He chuckled, reaching for his lighter-than-air coin purse. The goblin gave a strained sigh as he poured the worgen a tall pint.

"Yeah, yeah: 'You're the most interesting worgen in the world.' Like I haven't heard THAT a million times." The barkeep sighed.

"Make it two." A smooth, darkly angelic voice spoke. Daggerfang's ears perked a little at the sweet sound as the speaker took a seat beside him. Her slender form was covered in a think cloak, which seemed to permeate the air around her with shadow. The smell of death on her was so thick that Daggerfang felt small ears roll down his face. She turned to look at him with bright red eyes nearly causing a yelp of fright to escape past his cringing maw.

"You!" He managed to hiss as a small, amicable smile came to the dark ranger's face.

"I'm not here to pick a fight…with you." She simply spoke as their beers were placed before them. Daggerfang shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the sensual corpse took a sip of her drink. The silence was so awkward that the barkeep felt compelled to whistle.

"What are you doing here?" Dagerfang growled as the dark ranger turned and pointed to her neck. She pulled down her cloak slightly to reveal thick black stitches along her throat.

"After our less than civil meeting I was revived by travelers. Needless to say your night elf friend did a bit of damage but it was nothing Forsaken doctors, iron screws, and a bit of magic couldn't fix. A little birdie in Tibermaw Hold told me that my target did not die and that your group was headed to Everlook and here you are." She sighed taking another long gulp of beer. "This was my favorite, back when I could taste it."

"What do you want?" Daggerfang spoke, avoiding eye contact with the dark ranger. His twitching fingers could no longer resist the temptation of a rare brew as the Gos Malys found its way into his furry mouth.

"That's fairly obvious isn't it? I want Stingblade's heart on a little silver plate. There's a liver in it for you if you're willing to-"

"Your queen destroyed my home, my family, and ruined my life. You're wasting your air, little girl. I should crunch your face off where you sit…" He snarled. Daggerfang remembered the detailed note and outrageous reward from a few moments earlier. He snorted as the owner of the note became very apparent. The dark ranger beside him known as 'Highraven' gave the rogue a cool smile before placing enough gold on the table for both their drinks.

"Stingblade did the same to me. I was resurrected and turned into this against my will, same as many of your neighbors. But unlike them it wasn't until the lich king fell did I find myself in my Lady's service. Now I have no choice but to follow a twisted queen in a twisted kingdom. You know I served in one of the proudest, finest armies this world has ever seen? I served under a true woman of grace and dignity. I gave it all up to save his wretched life and I am willing to pay, very handsomely, for his last breath. Far more money than he or his allies will ever be able to give you. You may even have a shot at me once it's done, if you like." Highraven offered, taking another huge gulp of beer. Daggerfang rumbled as he turned back for a large taste of his own drink. Unlike Highraven, whose life giving blood rotted away long ago, Daggerfang could feel the delightful deluge of alcohol in his mind as he ordered another pint on Highraven's coin. She smiled and leaned forward on the bar.

"I'd much rather have a shot at your banshee bitch-queen. Can you do that for me?"

"You know I can't do that."

"Well then thanks for the beer, lady. But I can't help you." Daggerfang snorted, guzzling down the last of his second drink in a single gulp. Highraven's mind nimbly darted. The fact that the worgen was even talking to her, let alone he was slowly becoming intoxicated provided ample opportunity for manipulation if she could find the right window.

"That's a shame…although I could also offer to help you look for your family. We raised so many after we took your city. All recorded too. Perhaps I may be able to find them for you." Highraven offered, placing another powerful brew in his hairy palm. Beer-fueled images of his young son playing with close pins, pots, or whatever the young one could get his little hands on began running through his mind. He did his best to drown them with more beer, but the liquid seemed more like rocket fuel than water to a flame. That terrible night when the moon was full and the worgen were howling seemed to scream like a siren in his wolf-ears. He placed an empty pint on the table and watched the bar tender begin to pour his next.

"A safe house. He's at a safe house in the mountains. I will not take you there but we'll be meeting up with some folks here at the inn in a day or so once I get back and let them know its safe. He won't be alone, not by a long shot. That's all I've got." Daggerfang felt a pang of so many things through his ordeal, the least of them being guilt for his associate. Highraven suppressed a wicked smile as she did her best to keep her face and tone sympathetic.

"That's all I need. And if this information leads to his demise, I will move Azeroth itself to find your family." Highraven nodded, leaving fifty gold pieces on the counter, enough for a large bottle of something for the crestfallen and demoralized worgen to crawl into.

"Sister!" Morion gasped, as he quickly walked to the bed that contained the injured Sentinel. Falina lay there, in the Everlook Infirmary, with her strong frame battered beneath fresh blankets. After the strange fight with Maiev she quickly ran as fast as her injuries would allow in the direction of Everlook. Though only a few of her girls made it there, among the lucky survivors was her second in command: Natajha. It was Natajha that carried the failing Falina the last 3 miles to Everlook where they found willing help in exchange for the gold in their pockets and shiny mementos of rings and necklaces. Morion could see evidence of struggle in deep purple bruises on her arms and shoulders. Deep slices, carefully stitched, told the story of a skilled opponent mercilessly tearing into his sister's person. He knelt beside her, Falina turning her head to face the heart-sick hunter.

"Natajha sent for you?" she sighed, sore neck strained in turning her swimming head.

"Of course. I came as quickly as I could." He said with a slight sense of guilt in his pale eyes. "What happened? Was it Shandori?" Morion asked with a slight growl in his voice. A few moments passed before Falina replied.

"No…someone else. Someone stronger." Falina roughly spoke through pained breaths. Morion motioned to a nurse for a glass of water, which Falina accepted and began to carefully sip. "It was an elder watcher; at least the armor she wore resembled theirs. Her fighting style was so fierce, so determined. I've never seen anything like it. She cut through my brightest girls like they were made of paper." Falina coughed, the pain in her fresh wounds overtaking her usual facial agony.

"W-why? Why would she do that? It just doesn't make sense…" Morion shook his head.

"I…do not know, brother. All I know is she is with Shandori's traveling freak show. I overheard one of them, I think it was the troll, call out to the Watcher before I made my escape." Falina twisted her face to frown in disgust, only to show a slight twinge in her shattered mask.

"What did the troll say?"

"She called the name, 'Maiev.' It gave the watcher pause enough for me to flee." Falina watched as Morion's eyes went wide for a moment before he exhaled and shook his head.

"What a horrible woman, marring the name of the dead in such a way. There was a great huntress called Maiev Shadowsong…"

"I know the story brother." Falina curtly interrupted. Morion felt a slight heat on his cheeks as he heard his sister sigh. "I am sorry. I did not mean to be sharp."

"It's alright, just get some rest for real this time. Don't go off on one of your crusades again, please. Let someone else deal with Shandori. You're going to be an aunt soon; my child will need his aunt around to show him how to wield a glaive." Morion smiled as he saw the dark cloud over his sister's form seemed to dissipate, if ever so slightly.

"You're so sure it's a boy?" Falina asked with what was her best attempt at a raised brow. Morion beamed with a nod.

"Yes, I've even thought of a good name too. He'll be called Alorion Catwhisper."

"What if it's a girl?"

"A girl? Oh…I'll leave the naming to Luny. She'd make a fine Sagesmoke." Morion said with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Well if it is a boy or girl child, a father should show his offspring how to wield a weapon." Falina scolded in a gentle tone, taking a bigger gulp of water. Morion shook his head.

"You know I am a man of the bow, sister. I will be his father, but you'll be a hero to him as you are to me." Morion conceded. The lines of worry and worship on his otherwise unmarred face seemed to call to her, begging her to fully heal from her devastating ordeal. The scars on Falina's wrists showed just how good of a swordsman her brother could be if called upon. Morion's attempt at flattery for the sake of her grounding gave Falina no will to contest it. "Besides, we're staying at Iona's villa at Mydrassil, you'd like it there."

"You were given permission to stay there?" Falina asked with a hint of surprise in her voice. The great tree in the east was still considered a contested zone, held by the combined forces of Dalaran, The Cenarion groups, The Earthen Ring, and the Argent groups. No civilians save for contracted service folk were allowed there without special permission from high ranking members of the groups or the tree's planter: Orifiel Whitedeer.

"Yes, Iona could not take leave from her duties, so she asked that we both be allowed to stay there so she could participate in the birth. You know how protective she is. And Lady Whitedeer has always been so accommodating to us; I don't see why she would deny you or Natajha if she would like to be there too..." Morion spoke with veiled implications in his voice.

"Indeed." Falina sighed, looking to the walls as if an answer would magically be scrawled on their surface. The great arbor-beacon called through the words of her brother but the images of the criminal Shandori would not be so easily pushed aside. The hand that gripped her gave a gentle squeeze as kind eyes pleaded for her to comply. "And what great hero of the Kaldorei would I be to my nephew or niece if I did not take some time to witness their entrance into the world?" Falina sighed with what she could give as a smile. As soon as she was healed enough to travel, Falina and Natajha would join her extended family at the great tree, the shadow of Shandori whispering at her back.

"Did you hear about Gina?" the blacksmith known to his friends as 'McGowan' asked as he brought his trusty hammer down on a knife he was crafting. He did his best not to make eye contact with the young Gilnean human across from him, who weakly polished his latest carpentry piece.

"Yeah… I did." Jim spoke with none of his usual enthusiasm. His deep brown eyes dully rested on the fine table under his trembling hands.

"What happened to Gina?" A Quel'dorei man with long strawberry-blond hair asked as he rolled himself out from under his latest engineering project: an engine that ran on leaves from Mydrassil's arcane-drenched branches. McGowan turned to the engineer, who went by the name "Roth", before looking back to the knife.

"Found her face down on one of the roots near the north dock this morning…fell off the side of one of the perches they think." He sighed. McGowan had heard a lot more than what his lips allowed him to speak. But he decided to spare the human, whose eyes often glimmered with interest at the delightful young girl, the gory details. She apparently fell so far that the impact nearly liquefied her insides and the deed had been done only an hour or so after they had closed up shop for the night. The fish had begun their grim feast when the dock workers found her bloated body. Roth oil and grime-drenched chest sink as his throat began to fill with shock and sorrow.

"Oh…oh no. What happened? D-Do you think she?" He coughed a little, thankful that his usual chronic illness cut off the dreadful thought.

"I knew she should 'ave broken it off with that shit-'ead Tommy. Just used 'er up. I bet it's 'is fault if she…if she did jump. Or maybe 'e sent her off the dock 'imself. Bet 'e was counting on the mutant fish to finish the job for 'im." Jim growled, falling into the common accent his dutiful grandmother spend years purging from his lips and doing his best to keep a saddened stream of tears from slipping through his masculine mask.

"Now, now lad. Don't go making accusations. I hear Romulus himself is looking into it. They'll find out what happened. Until then…" McGowan sighed, not able to find any real words of comfort for the young human whose eyes always seemed to shine when the long haired beauty graced them with her presence.

"That's what you said last time. Something isn't right. Remember Mr. Wilson? Did the officials 'ere ever say what 'appened to 'im?"

"Yes actually, it was a heart attack. His doctors and healers banned him from eating sweets but I know he always made the baker's coin purses heavy. One too many illegal Danishes I suppose." Roth dryly informed with a clogged sounding sniffle.

"Oh-oh…" Jim spoke with a slight blush. Roth sat there for a moment, rubbing the back of his greasy hair with a hand covered in oil. He tried to stop the motion but decided the itch was more important than the state of his fine locks.

"She deserved better, that's for sure. I mean she gave this old man the time of day. And I know she was sweet on you Jim. Wherever she is, I bet my share of the sunwell she's looking after you." He smiled.

"Well, that's not exactly fair to say. I mean for 100 you don't look a day over 20. The human lasses don't know the difference." McGowan smirked at his own age manipulation tactics.

"Oh if only it were true. I'd feel dirty if I came onto her. I'm old enough to be her great grandfather you know? Plus she never seemed to fall for my elfish charm…" The engineer said, snorting back a wad of phlegm before hawking it onto the floor with a sigh of relief.

"Whatever Roth, lets just drop it alright?" Jim sighed, noticing too late that he applied too much linseed oil to his otherwise pristinely stained table. He threw his rag to the ground and stormed out of the smithy. The pain in his chest coupled with the sick feeling in his gut seemed to scream within every fiber of his being. Something terrible happened to Gina the night before and he was going to find out what...