Straydog Saga

Flea 4: Another one bites the dust

Ima shivered a little in the crisp morning air. The sun was just casting its yellow blanket over the choppy sea as if the water would also prefer to sleep in. But Ima had to get to work while she could. Her masters drank nearly a fourth of their massive earnings that night, which meant she may have time to gather the first of the reagents needed for the gnome transformation spell if all went according to plan. The sand felt gritty beneith her slippers. She frowned as the waves started creeping closer, forcing her to either ruin a very pricey pair of standard uniform shoes or go barefoot. Her discomfort was overcome by a slight gleeful tickle in her chest as the sight of long grooves coming from the surf caught her eye. Her quarry was not far away as she felt her steps morph into a light trot. At one point she could hear strange noises, coupled with the sound of hisses coming from what looked like a troll ruin. She ducked behind a tropical looking plant as a pair of naga came slithering down the sandy dune. Ima could not make out what they were saying but it appeared the female, hissing with a snarling face, was angry about something. The male just shook its dragon-like head.

"I mean, that tramp Lshzha thinks she can just up and steal MY MAN like that? She's such a skank, isn't she?"

"Uh huh..."

The naga conversed in their own language a bit before a shadow formed above them. They looked up to see a bright blue cloud circling ahead.

"What the?" The male managed to croak before a hail of icey daggers rained from the strange cloud. The shards pierced the scaly hides, causing them to shriek and frantically look to fine the source of their agony. By the time they spotted the troll mage, hiding behind the dune plants, they felt their underbellies begin to grow hot. The burns were unbearable as they tried desperately to reach their attacker. But it seemed something else was slowing them down. The female, more sensitive to the flows of arcane energies, could sense the strange binding spell around them. But the final spell, a burst of arcane energy so violent it broke their bones, was what finally killed them...but not before their brethren heard the commotion and were converging on the single mage. Ima held her stance as another spell formed in her steady hands as the massive hissing collective charged.

The pounding in Shandori's head was enough to drive the most disciplined person mad. The room was fuzzy and every ray of light that entered from the small window was like a knife to the forehead. She tried to sit up and heard a pained grunt from beneath her. Christoffel came to a rude awakening, with a half-clothed night elf on top of him and the empty bottle of boomjuice still in his hand. Luckily, it appeared both were still wearing their pants at least though Shandori could taste the hint of smoky fel flavor in her mouth. Shandori looked up to see a pained smile on Christoffel's face.

"Please get off me." He winced as those same light-knives had turned to assault him as well. Shandori shifted, hoping to avoid any further discomfort that would arise from being that close to her business partner, and started looking for her shirt.

"I don't remember taking the damn thing off."

"I think it was sometime between your 6th stout and when we uh..."

"Lets not go there. Ah here it is -crap, its still wet. Oh well, I can just buy a new one." Shandori sighed, putting on her breastplate without the comfortable linen shirt. Christoffel decided to change into his spare, as his own shirt smelled like a drunken moose. Shandori, trying not to be obvious, stole a glance. But her eyes grew wide not out of lust, but at of the sight of three coin-sized growths on the blood elf's chest.

"Damn Chris, those things have gotten bigger. Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?"

"I told you, they happen. The largest they'll get is the size of a finger. They're harmless; just look bad, that's all."

"Well alright, just don't die on me before you make me my millions." Shandori nodded with a smile. She paused a moment and looked around the room. "Speaking of making money, where's our minion?" Christoffel put on his spare shirt before pointing at a note on the door. Shandori walked to the door and tore the note off. She quickly read it and crumpled it in her hands before stuffing it in her pocket.

"She's down at the beach, looking for naga. We better go get her before this turns into a bad investment."

"Can't wait wait a while? My face is killing me." Christoffel groaned, trying to button his leather vest with little success. Shandori thought for a moment before putting her swords and shoulder-pads down.

"I think some bitters and breakfast won't kill us. I just hope we get to what's her face in time before her little naga hunt kills her."

Ima stood victorious on a large, twitching pile of singe-frozen naga parts. In her merriment, she did a small victory dance while singing a little tune to herself: "...and another one gone, and another one gone, another one bites the dust. HEY, I'm gunna get you too, another one bites the dust-ahhhh!" She laughed as her grim work began. She took her fishing knife and gutted the first naga, looking for the stomach. After digging around in the naga's gut for a few moments, she lanced the organ, spilling its contents. The first, second, and third attempts yielded nothing but a massive mess and even worse stench. But there were treasures to be had, as some of the naga kept trophies from their previous kills. Coins, trinkets, baubles, but most importantly: the swallowed sea pearls imbued with arcane energy. Sometimes, a naga would eat an oyster and swallow the pearl within. The pearl, unable to be digested or passed, remains in the stomach where it collects the arcane energy the naga sometimes feeds on, making for a powerful catalyst in spells. Ima was able to collect 5, more than enough to complete the ritual. Stomach growling ad bags full, Ima began to make her way back to Boot Bay. Along the way she passed by a human fishing in the nearby surf. He turned to see her, blue eyes widening as Ima smiled and waved with a warm "good morning." The human, caught off guard, collected his fish and ran in the opposite direction. Ima, confused for only a moment looked at her hands and realized why the human had been so frightened. She sighed and shook her head. She knew the action shouldn't have bothered her. She was a troll, a proud member of the Darkspear and of the horde. But she was a mage first, and she knew the potential for lost knowledge from fear and the inability to converse with all manner of creatures.

Thoughts of Shandori and Christoffel's cooperative made her smile. Her greatest heroes, those who inspired her to become a mage in the first place were those working hardest for peace. Warchief Thrall gave up his power, his high position in order to work more closely with the human Jaina Proudmoore, a mage and a pioneer in her own right. Though Thrall and Jaina were more heroic figures something about ancient enemies like night elves and blood elves finding a common bond, even if it was greed and lust for the vices, uplifted her. But in the midst of her thoughts a tall shadow creeped along the coast line. The figure's long hair was blowing in the sea-wind. Twin beacons for eyes still shown brightly in the sunlight. Not far behind, a faint figure stalked along the sandy beach, making sure they didn't run afoul of anything lurking nearby. Ima smiled and waved.

"Good morning Master Dori, Master Chris!"

The Trio stayed in town and ate lunch at a local falafel stand. Though there was no meat in the fried chick pea and bread balls, Ima inhaled the Draenei treat. Hummus and pita-kebob also found their way pasted tusked lips while the still hung over Shandori and Christoffel chose to abstain. When the elves met with Ima on the beach the confiscated all of the extra baubles and do-dad's she'd collected. But, since they were able to get a good deal on the items, Shandori allowed Ima to gorge on her favorite foods. Shandori waited for the troll to clear her plate and sit back on her chair before addressing her.

"So, we'll be set for a little while. And I know you said you need to get some reagents for your spell. You got the pearls, what else do you need?"

"Well the pearls were easy to get but the rest may not be. I'm going to need seeds from the Dryad's joy plant and a worgen tooth. A weird bunch of items, I know, but its what the spell calls for." Ima said, rubbing her full belly. Shandori hummed and thought for a moment.

"Well I'm sure we can find the Worgen tooth in Gilneas. They've got to have dentists and apothecaries that will have them. But the Dryad's joy is going to be tricky." Shandori mused. She had not been back to Gilneas since the final stand when the worgen refugees finally reclaimed their ancient home from the clutches of the vile scourge.

"Why's that?" Christoffel asked. He'd seen them in his travels through Ashenvale in the past.

"When the orcs cut their way through Ashenvale, they cut though some of the main pollination areas for the plants. I used to see them all over the place when I was a kid, my dad used to work with bringing their population up a bit but there are hardly any around now...How many seeds do you need from the plant?" Shandori asked, wheels obviously turning in her quick mind.

"I think each plan has about 10 seeds in them, I'll only need 3. We could probably donate- or well, sell them to some druids. Especially if they're interested in saving the species." Ima smiled as Shandori patted her on the shoulder.

"I like you. Keep thinking like that and I may let you go early. Now, I think we should hit up Gilnaes first. I know the forsaken are nearby, so you both can stop in their city for a while if you need to while I go get us a worgen tooth. I can see if we can get any side jobs while I'm there and after that we can plan our trip to Kalimdor. Sound like a plan?" Shandori looked to her two companions who didn't seem to object. The plan was set and before the sun could find rest below the horizon the trio set off by griffin towards the newly rebuilt Greymane wall.

Keesha wiped the blood red wine from her black lips with a small white napkin. The crimson walls and black-wooded décor of The Slaughtered Lamb seemed to echo her mood. She looked to the barkeep, who motioned to the exit. A small burst of light managed to slip passed the doorframe as a haggard looking human passed through with his partner not far behind him. The nearly toothless warrior smiled and waited for Keesha's permission to sit. His young associate, a human rogue with short brown hair, did the same.

"Anything interesting today, Garl? You better not be wasting my time." She said with a raised eyebrow. The older man cackled and shook his head.

"Whether or not these are a waste of time is up to you, as always my dear." She smiled and took a few weathered pages from his pocket. He opened the flyers and other various listings and placed them on the table. Keesha put down her wine and moved her fingers to grasp the paper stack. She leafed through them: wanted posters, jobs, warning, missing children, and other such notices. When she came to the last page in the pile her eyes went wide and the sweet wine she drank nearly caused her to choke.

"You tryin' to be funny Garl, what's with this?" She held up the page in question, a wanted poster with the picture of a night elf woman with four claw marks on her left cheek. Garl took the page back, looked at it for a moment and nodded.

"This one came out a week or so ago. Small time crook this one, wanted alive but the pay isn't worth the trouble in my humble opinion." He drawled. Keesha scowled.

"I know her, she's a horde loving traitor. It was disgusting." Keesha started, going on to tell the details of her encounter with the money hungry warrior with her shady associates.

"Sounds like a piece of work." The other man chimed in but quickly stilled his lips. Forsaking the other pages, the wanted poster with Shandori's drawn image seemed to burn in the warlock's deadly hands. Keesha put the paper down in the center of the table and took one last tip of her wine.

"No, this one's mine. Gear up boys, we have a bounty to collect."

Ima looked around as the hay cart they were riding in hobbled along the dirt roads of Hillsbrad. They had landed in their respective destinations of Tarren Mill and the Alterac outpost, since the region was in a state of chaos after the Forsaken expansion. They met at a crossroads and were fortunate enough to find a goblin trader headed in the direction of Tirisfal. Their gold brought a smile to his already grin-lined face and off they were, hidden and restfully traveling to their destination. She kept doing so until her vision caught something of interest. She studied the object thoroughly before pondering her assessment to her travel companions.

"I spy with my little eye, something that starts with the letter 'G'"

"Grass." Christoffel sighed.

"Your turn Master Chris." Ima chirped. He searched the surrounding terrain before forming his reply.

"I spy with my little eye, something that starts with the litter 'S'"

"The sky?" Shandori asked with the shaking of Christoffel's head as her reply. "Uh…me?"

"Yeah, can't see much under this hay." He spat as a few pieces of the material made its way into his mouth. "Your turn."

"Hmm…I spy with my little eye something that starts with the letter 'G'."

"We already did grass." Christoffel snorted.

"That wasn't it, look." Shandori shifted in the hey and helped Christoffel out of his burrow. Shandori pointed to the massive structure, one that used to stand as solid as the mountains of Aerie peak. But the Greymane wall lay shattered under the might of the forsaken and though a temporary cease-fire was in effect, all three were on their guard. "This is my stop you too. I'll get your worgen tooth and meet you at the border to Tirisfal in 3 days. That should be enough time to find the thing. Sound good?" Shandori asked with nods as her reply. She dug her way through the hay and leaped from the back of the wagon onto the grassy hills. After rolling several feet she came to rest in front of the shattered doors of Gilneas. She turned to see the wagon hobbling on and waited until it was out of sight before heading towards the main gate. The entire city seemed to be bathed in grey. All the buildings stood, black roofed and silent. Though the sun was shining, clouds seemed to linger along the foggy streets. The Gilnaens themselves seemed to be about as friendly and welcoming as their buildings. Shandori straightened her belt and made her way to what looked like a pub. She had three days to locate a worgen tooth, and she had only been in the dank city for about 10 minutes. She sat down at the dark but rather elegantly decorated bar, winked to the sneering bar tender, and asked for a menu.

Christoffel's expression didn't change at the sight of the blighted hills and smoking wreckage. Tirisfal looked less like a forest and more like a warzone. The worgen and their allies did leave their mark in the forsaken lands, once the prosperous kingdom of Lordaeron, though they seemed to face an enemy that would not sink quietly into death. Ima covered her beak- like nose at the smell of burning flesh and rotting meat. Christoffel sighed and started sifting through the hay.

"I need to get off this thing; I'll meet you at Undercity, in front of the mage quarter in a few hours." Ima bid her master farewell as he slinked like a passing shadow over the edge of the cart. He landed nimbly on the side of the road and did not turn to watch the vehicle pass. Memories of dark but blooming trees came to him. The sounds of tweeting birds and bleating sheep, forever replaced by the sound of silence punctuated with the occasional explosion. The spry grass was now nothing more than wisps of dried straw beneath his leather boots. The stray dogs that howled in the night and kept the beloved company of those who couldn't find home were now nothing but rabid un-living monsters.

Christoffel did not shed tears over the loss. There was little in the broken landscape that could move him to do so. Cloaked in shadow, Christoffel made his way down the broken road to the small village of Brill. He allowed those shadows to fade, as not to startle the death stalkers that guarded the down. They saw his ravaged complexion and fel-glowing eyes. The considered him for only a moment before giving him a nod. The smell of decay was concentrated there but he would not let the opportunity pass. He had nearly forgotten the little trinket that lay secure in one of his inner pockets though its owner's image could never be purged from the back of his mind. As he passed through the main graveyard gate he pulled out the medallion and the world seemed to freeze around him.

He knelt beside an open grave, cold dirt finding its way onto his legs. The faint sounds of battle mixed with childish laughter began running through the cracks of his memory. The impending flood began to work its way to his eyes, but the dam held. He did not here the grave-digger approach.

"If you're mourning her, she was raised yesterday." He sniffed, his hanging jaw threatening to meet the ground. Christoffel turned, hoping the heat he felt in his cheeks did not manifest beneath his eyes.

"O-oh no, someone else." He sighed and turned back to the cracked headstone. "Someone who stayed dead." Christoffel dug a small hole just in front of the empty lot and placed the small medallion within. He hesitated for a moment before moving the dirt over the sacred trinket.

"Lucky them." The gravedigger snorted before returning to his grim work. Christoffel did not reply, his mind had wandered too far. The vision of the headstone and graveyard seemed distant as shadows of the past came into focus.

"Isn't this place wonderful, Narlyn?" Venlyn Dawnblade declared. Narlyn, who would one day be known as Christoffel Stingblade, looked to the cheery yet seemingly crude surroundings with an upturned nose.

"You are easily impressed brother."

"Oh, come now. Don't tell me that ceremony wasn't impressive! The flowers, the music, the wine- the very pleasant ladies..." Venlyn smiled wide. Narlyn moved as a gaggle of small human children ran past the two decorated Quel'dorei priests. They arrived a few days before with their people's diplomats to celebrate the first birthday of Prince Arthas. Lordaeron became a glorious beacon of joy and celebration that day and Venlyn fed off the energy as his people would partake in the bright energies of the sunwell. He himself abstained, though the pains of his birth-addiction did beacon occasionally, it all seemed so far away in the presence of the human revelry.

"Don't mention such things to father when we get back; you know he wont like it. Remember his reaction when you cut your hair?" Narlyn smirked at the thought of his father's hanging jaw and rage filled eyes. Though Venlyn's hair was a healthy shoulder length, the sight of the human-style hair cut was enough to leave all five brothers with ringing ears and hilarious mental images.

"Ah, come on brother. Get the stick out of your ass."

"What?"

"It's a human expression. It means you need to relax more, enjoy things more. Don't worry so much about what father thinks. In case you haven't noticed, he isn't here." Venlyn chuckled as he caught sight of a pleasant looking brown haired woman no older than 20. She wore a crown of pink flowers that went well with her burgundy dress. He caught her looking in their direction as she quickly tried to look anywhere but at them. Venlyn smirked and grabbed his brother by the arm. Narlyn was literally dragged, red faced and hissing towards the blushing human girl, who nearly squeaked in the presence of the elves.

"Good day, miss. How are you enjoying the festivities?" Venlyn asked with a baby-faced smile. The girl's face became more like a tomato by the second. Narlyn's was not far behind only for slightly different reasons.

"Yes, thank you sir. I-I'm sorry for staring, b-but I've never seen elves before. I hope I didn't offend you." Her bright green eyes flashed with fear for a moment but Venlyn's aura soothed her tight chest.

"No offence at all. In fact our kind LOVES to be looked at. Don't we Narlyn?" He cast a smug look to his younger brother who could only grunt in reply. "You'll have to excuse him; he's not exactly an expert in interacting with the fairer gender." Venlyn could feel the razor gaze on his person but the smile did not fall from his face in the slightest. The young woman's look of humiliation quickly turned into a cheerful, laughing image. An image that made Venlyn blush a little himself.

"You're very funny. I'm so glad I came. My name is Meryld Fillmore. May I ask your names?" Meryld took the two edges of her dress and gave a demure curtsey.

"I am the great and powerful (and very handsome) priest of the light, Venlyn Dawnblade," he spoke with a grandiose and over-done bow causing Meryld to giggle, "And this fellow is none other than my esteemed youngest brother and fellow priest Narlyn. We are very thrilled to make your acquaintance." Venlyn cast a quick glance to his brother, who muttered an affirmation of the sentiment.

"Well I'm not sure of your order would allow it, but I'm meeting some of my Explorer's League co-workers at Young's Pub in a few moments. I just got admitted to the league and we're going to have a little celebration of our own. I'd be honored to converse with you both more there, if you're allowed to do so, of course." Before Narlyn could respond, his elder brother spoke for him.

"We'd be delighted. But it'd probably be best if we changed into more common attire. Meet you there in say, a half and hour or so?" He offered. Meryld agreed and with a small wave turned to walk in the direction of the pub. Narlyn struck his brother on the shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Her hopefully…" Venlyn smirked, rubbing what would eventually be a bruise on his arm.

"You wouldn't!" Narlyn gasped. Varlyn smirked and lead his brother in the direction of their accommodations.

"Nar let me explain something to you. We'll have plenty of time for ritual and rules when we get back to Silvermoon. Now's our chance brother! I bet a cutie like that has friends, or sisters or something." Varlyn spoke but was met with silence. Narlyn stopped walking for a moment, giving Varlyn pause. The smile he wore shifted as a look of uncertainty came to his face. Narlyn looked his brother in the eye and gave a soft smile.

"As disgusting as the thought might be I won't stop you…and father doesn't need to know."

The sunny sky and cheerful voices gave way to grey silence. It wasn't until his eyes came back into focus did Christoffel realize that his cheeks were wet. He tried to stop the flow but no matter how many times he wiped them, the tears kept coming. And then guilt began pouring into his stomach like foul liquid. The pangs worsened at the thought of his judgmental words and harsh criticism of the only person who ever truly cared about him. He began to feel nauseous as thoughts of his embarrassment when Venlyn chose human culture over his own, his venomous replies whenever Venlyn would use human slang, and the utter disgust when his brother did not return to their room until the morning after, smelling of flowers and perfume.

Now the only thing he had left of his brother was the little trinket he buried. And while it could easily be forgotten, the dead eyes of his brother's lifeless face would haunt him no matter how many times Christoffel changed his name. He found he could stand, though his knees slightly shook and took one last look at the little spot of covered earth. But as he turned around he felt a pair of eyes at his back. A pair whose plump lips no longer drew breath. Her face was covered by a long black hood, but her garb was that of a dark ranger.

"Tears for a Quel'dorei's pendant? A dangerous sentiment around here, Stingblade. That is what you call yourself now, isn't it?" She spoke with a haunting voice. Christoffel, eyes drying, gave her a questioning look.

"I'm sorry dark ranger but do I know you?"

"Not as you see me now, but perhaps in another life…" She slowly pulled back her hood to reveal what was once a face that would make men weep. Her grey lips were one luscious and pink. Her burning red eyes replaced fel orbs of emerald green. Torn and stitched skin was once sun kissed and soft. Her long, crisp white hair was once the color of spun gold. It took him a moment but he felt a flash in his mind. His eyes went wide and he nearly sank back to his knees.

"Highraven…"