Straydog Saga
Flea 8: Let the Bodies Hit the Floor
"I think I found one—no, not it's just mageroyal, never mind." Ima shouted with a sigh. She heard a "shh!" from a few paces behind. She winced a little and her voice lowered to a whisper. "Sorry."
"You think you'd WANT the damn sentinels up our asses, gods!" Shandori whisper-hissed as her glowing eyes scanned the underbrush for Ima's reagent. Her skin was covered in scabbed-over wounds and it took everything she had not to scratch them open. Christoffel, still weak from his near fatal overdose, was silent in his search. They were in one of the thickets where the Dryad's Delight was known to grow, when it grew at all. Though they were far from Astranaar, traffic to and from Azshara had increased since the great Tree Mydrassil grew to prominence in the Bay of Storms. Travelers hoping to benefit from the great trees mystic power came in droves, right along the same paths that lead to the Dryad's Delight thickets.
"What does this plant even look like?" Shandori asked, pulling up what smelled like onion grass.
"Its white with a blue sheen. It has blue pollen pods instead of yellow. It sort of looks like…t-tiger!"
"Tiger lily?"
"NO, TIGER!" Ima howled as a great night saber came from its hiding place. Its wild claws cut through Ima's thin robes, allowing a red stain to form. She stumbled back, falling to her side as the horrific looking beast, with scars all over its massive face, lunged forward. Its next attack was not met with flesh or bone, but with the steady sword of a seasoned warrior. Shandori cut into the tiger's paw, causing it to roar but not retreat.
"A little help here Chris!" She grunted, but it appeared that the rogue was nowhere to be found. It wasn't until a pained grunt bore through the roaring did Shandori realized that their attacker was not just some random beast looking for a meal. Though her concentration was on the night saber, her vision caught the sight of Christoffel, fighting with a tall, white haired figure. Despite Christoffel's deftness the fatigue showed through his grimacing expression, the figure managed to leap away, readying his bow. In an instant the rogue was on the defense as arrow after arrow threatened to bring him down. Luckily, he managed to miss a trap that was hidden in his path and continued to dodge the onslaught. Ima stood, ignoring the pain in her leg long enough to concentrate on a spell. She summoned the binding ice from within and sent a frozen lance towards the hunter. The spell connected, slowing his steps enough for Christoffel to gain the upper hand. The tiger, no longer interested in his target, ran towards the rogue in defense of its master.
"Oh no you don't!" Shandori smirked as she grabbed hold of the night saber's tail and yanked hard. The pained howl echoed in the thicket, and was likely heard miles away. It was nothing compared to the noise the animal made when its appendage was cut off by a crude but steady blade. It crumpled to the ground and thrashed, unable to stand or bite through the pain. Shandori leaped past the flailing creature and ran towards where Chris and the hunter dueled. The sight of the familiar face made her utter a spite-filled laugh.
"Well hell-looo again 'MORON' fancy meeting you here." She said, mock-sweet tone twisting with her face into a snarl. Morion Catwhisper didn't have any time to respond to the insult as he found himself fighting three angry mercenaries without the aide of his paralyzed pet. Morion planted his legs on the ground and pushed back as hard as he could. The backward leap sent him several feet away, far enough to send a concussive shot into Shandori's leg. The shot, while it did slow her steps, only added to the rage filling her vision. When the trio finally got close enough to the lone hunter, they could see a visible smirk on his confident looking face.
"Range!" He shouted and with a rustling push, several hidden sentinels burst from the thicket. The stealthy maidens were on them, defending their retired leader's son. Shandori's eyes widened as the sentinels closed in on them, forcing the trio to stand back to back. One of the roguish warriors, a tall night elf woman with long silver hair stood at the forefront with Morion at her side. Ima and Christoffel could not see the color drain from Shandori's face.
"You did well, brother." She cackled. Shandori stifled a sneer.
"Nice mouth. I see you still haven't replaced those teeth I knocked out." Shandori shot back. The words caused the leader to frown for a moment but it was quickly replaced with a cool smile. Christoffel did see a few gaps in Falina Catwhisper's smile but the injuries seemed dim in the shining blades pointed at his heart, eyes, and throat. Morion and Elunis were traveling back from Mydrassil when the hunter decided to visit his older sister who was living in the sentinel barracks at Forest Song. That afternoon's hunt yielded far more than a few pelts or dinner meats. He knew his sister and her scouts would be stalking the grove's darkened paths. During his fight with Christoffel, they signaled him from the darkness and it appeared the blood elf was too intent on killing Morion to notice.
"A few missing teeth can be hidden. Thanks to my brother's handy work…" She seemed to delight in tracing Shandori's feral scars just out of striking range. "Everyone knows who you are: A batterer, thief, and now a traitor. You have two choices, come quietly or we take you and your horde filth to Mount Hyjal in pieces." Falina's nose could rise no higher as a few of the sentinels broke protocol to show their laughing approval.
The glare Shandori gave seemed to travel past the scene as lavender-knuckles clinched her sword. Morion stepped forward as Shandori's rage began to boil behind her eyes.
"Stay outta this, Moron." She growled. Gaze slowly shifting back to the smiling Falina.
"Don't let this trash bother you brother. There is a reason people like her end up as they do…" As Falina flapped her black-painted lips as the bile brewed within Shandori. Memories of her youth bubbled in the muck and sludge that plagued her being. The face she hoped never to see again stood before her, each word spoken causing the heart beating in her ears to rise. Not once had she ever been placed in a situation where she would have to face possibly killing her own kind. Whenever a paper with a night elf face attached passed her vision, she would shuffle her hand, taking on other jobs. But too much boiled within, too many bad memories and ill feelings churned. The looks of scorn on their perfect Elvin faces, the eyes filled with mocking elitism, and the words spoken from the very person who was responsible from her expulsion from sentinel training broke the seal on Shandori's sanity. Not even Ima's concerned words broke through as a roar that would rival Grom Hellscream's erupted form Shandori.
She lunged forward, swinging her sword around, nearly decapitating Falina. With her face sliced open, she hit the ground with a thud. The only thing that saved Morion from a similar fate was the fact that he was married to her younger sister. With that the blades of the rest of the sentinels struck. Ima and Chris struggled to avoid the shining weapons, but Shandori's rage more than compensated. She severed arms, slashed faces, and ruined careers in the process. But in her red-bathed mind all she could see was the faces of those who would see her destroyed, pushed down, and forgotten as trash. She stabbed one of the sentinels square in the chest, twisting the blade and kicking her victim in the leg to retrieve the blade again. Christoffel managed to hold his own, with Ima gaining a distance and freezing their enemies. Morion did his best to tend to his sister's gaping wound. The slash went so deep he could see her teeth through her open cheek. But all he had to do was keep her alive long enough for reinforcements to come. One of the sentinels, still hidden and watching the fray left to get help.
Crumpled bodies hit the ground one by one, but their damage slowed Shandori's swings. Fueled only by rage and memories, Shandori's breath labored with each swing.
"Dori, look out!" Ima cried as one of the sentinels came from behind and raised a small club. She used Shandori's fatigue to her advantage and brought the club down as hard as she could on the back of Shandori's head. With a grunt, Shandori's eyes rolled back and she too met the ground as her victims did. "DORI!" Ima cried, trying desperately to reach her master. She froze the burned and battered sentinels that remained as she rushed to Shandori's side. She sent a burst of flame to the sentinel who reached to slay Shandori while the warrior was unconscious. The sentinel hit the ground, no longer able to move.
It was then the sound of piercing battle horns rung out in the area. Christoffel's eyes went wide while Ima tried to revive Shandori.
"What is it?"
"Silverwing battle horns…they've got more coming…"
If he'd left her to her own devices, Ima's chronic case of kindheartedness would have dragged the lifeless warrior until the sentinels were upon them. Christoffel held onto the troll's wrist with all his might, despite the protests and slapping palms. His stomach lurched as the slowly fading image of the fallen Shandori became like a carcass being descended upon by silver-winged carrion. But despite the bile in his throat his eyes were fixed on the path ahead of them. His feet fleetly carried them farther and farther from the vengeful night elf warrior elites. Hidden roots and tangled branches seemed to move in his path. The forest belonged to the night elves and their will, it seemed as sharpened twigs and needles began finding their way onto his tender skin. Ima began dragging her oversized feet, which caused Chris to finally turn his head.
"We can't leave her like that! I can carry her, let me go!"
"She's theirs now, there's nothing we can do!" He hissed as a thorn nearly landed in his glowing green eyes.
"You didn't even try!" She shouted, voice quivering slightly. "They'll kill her!"
"Try? Try to what get us killed? There are too many!" Christoffel grunted, eyes furrowing.
"She needs us, STOP!" Ima spoke, trying to yank her hand away but Christoffel's grip held firm. They came to a small clearing in the woods, where the wisps silently watched the spectacle.
"Has the little slave fell in love with her master?" he said with a spite-filled smirk. But all it earned him was a firm yank to the ground and a large blue foot on his aching chest.
"What are you doing, they're coming!" He gasped, trying to sit up but Ima weighed him down.
"I don't leave anyone behind…never again." Ima said, with a small tear falling down her cheek. She lifted her foot from his chest, allowing him both to breath and roll back onto his feet. "You can go if you want to. I'll face them myself."
"Stupid!" Christoffel didn't have time to fade into the shadows. The sentinels were there, lining the rim of the grove. Five pairs of glowing eyes stared them down but while Chrisoffel's back curved under the glares, Ima stood boldly on. She waited, red eyes meeting one of the soldiers who were equally unflinching. They inched forward, each step silent and nimble, glaives an blades at the ready.
"You're trespassing." A voice that could chill the depths of hell hissed in proper common. At once a tarnished glaive flew through the air, the bits that still shined caught the small bits of light that pierced the forest canopy. In one motion the glaive knocked the weapons from the sentinels' hands, causing them to take a step back. Christoffel could hear them muttering to one another in Darnassian. Smiles and spite filled laughter made Christoffel's blood run a little slower as they began receding back into the shadows. He could only make out the common words that his languages and the old language both shared: "crazy, "woman," "horde," and "dead."
"They're leaving?" Ima wondered aloud as all signs of the sentinels vanished. But She and Christoffel were far from alone in the wispy grove. One other still stood with them, an old glaive in her steady hand.
"As I said." she growled with a slightly twitching eyelid. "You're trespassing." Ima studied the figure. She was an older night elf with deep lines beneath her eyes. What was once long, luxurious violet hair in her seemingly endless youthful days was now cut at the chin, a faded white, and unkempt. What was left of her splendid armor was nothing more than tarnished scraps of metal and leather held together by memories and strained threads. All that remained of her once lavish cloak was torn scraps of cloth that barely covered her sturdy form. Ima put on a shaking but diplomatic smile and took a step towards the woman whose glaive did not move. Christoffel resisted the urge to stop her, as any sudden movement could trigger a speedy attack from the "crazy woman."
"As a student of Dalaran, I've worked side by side with members of the alliance; my friend and I mean you no harm. We're very sorry for the intrusion but the sentinels found us and – EEP!" Ima's explanation was cut short as the large gap between her and the woman was closed in a matter of seconds, with a tarnished but still sharp blade at her throat.
"I do not care who you are with or how you found your way here. Why are you here?" The steely voice spoke, casting a quick but threatening glance to Chris, in case any adverse action crossed his mind. She leaned a little closer to the troll, bringing the blade all the closer to her sweating flesh. Words flew from Ima's mouth: about how she had become a student at Dalaran but needed money for school supplies and reagents. She took a job where she met the blood elf beside her and a very smart-talking night elf warrior. After an unfortunate turn of events her true nature as a troll was revealed and she pledged her time and loyalty to her new masters. In a stroke of kindness, they were assisting her in gathering reagents, despite personal risk when they were ambushed by sentinels and were forced to run. Christoffel resisted the urge to curse several times. Not only had she spelled all the gory details of their exploits but she irrefutably tied them to a night elf criminal. He braced himself for a battle that never came. Instead the intense look in the night elf woman's eyes waned a little as she shook her head.
"You are…something else." The old woman smiled. "The sentinels will not come here, you will be safe. I make my home in a cave not too far from here. I may still have some thistle tea…"
"What?" the sharp word managed to pierce Christoffel's iron resolve. The old woman's head snapped to him like a viper's bite.
"Do I stutter?"
"No my lady, its just that…you were ready to kill us as one minute and now you offer us shelter…why?" His words caused a small smirk and bitter laugh to come from her lips. The whips that floated by seemed to stop in anticipation of the old woman's words.
"I have wasted a great deal of time hunting one of my own kind. I have never met anyone with a heart so black, alliance or horde, since. And though I claimed victory over him, taking his pathetic life, in the end he still won. I suppose the point is this one could have easily lied to me about the nature of your presence here. I know her words are true because if you had been any louder in your search for Dryad's Delight you'd have brought the whole of Azeroth upon you." She smiled as Ima began to blush. "Do you forsake my generosity?" She looked to Christoffel who cautiously shook his head. "Good, then follow. Night will be coming soon and there will be more than sentinels hunting you. She turned with what would have been a grand flourish had her cloak been intact. Ima and Chris looked to one another, his gaze causing hers to faulter.
"What have you gotten us into?" he hissed, causing Ima to wince a little.
"How about into not getting killed." She quietly squeaked. She looked to the old woman's back and coughed a little. "Mam, I hate to seem rude but, I didn't get your name?" she offered causing the old woman to slow her steps. She tilted her head down and thought for a moment. Her face went blank, but the only ones who could see the sorrow in her eyes were the capricious wisps.
"I used to be called, Maiev Shadowsong."
The smoke from a whitewood pipe rose to prominence as the smell of burning sage and tobacco came to Orifiel's nose. The mingled scents did not irritate her but she often stifled coughs if the burning remnants became too strong. As she lie in her large, lavish bed, Orifiel rolled onto her back as the one beside her was careful not to let his pipe smoke travel to her lungs. Despite the haze the sight of Seth's strong shoulders and usual pensive expression brought a small smile to her face.
"Must you do that here? People know I don't smoke." She softly spoke, tracing idle circles on her mate's bare chest. Seth gave a quick frown as he snuffed the small flame at the tip of his long nail out.
"I simple can not help myself." He drawled, turning to exhale through his nostrils away from the Whitebranch Steward.
"The sage smell I can explain away. Use less tobacco next time. There have been whispers…" She said pulling herself up to rest her head on her lover's shoulder. A slow grunt was her reply.
"If it is that important, I will be more discrete with my habit…next time." Orifiel leaned up and placed a long, though chaste kiss on his temple. The priestesses of Elune and druidic vessels of the emerald dream often voiced their distain for the highborne and Dalaran elites that studied the chaotic Pinnacle Bow. The response from those of arcane inclination was only more of the same. Orifiel frowned at the thought of the scandal and unrest that would flow through Mydrassil like a terrible fire if the steward-priestess and the arch mage were known to share a bed
"I appreciate it. Oh and have you talked to Trenton yet?"
"Mmm. Yes, he is with the next set as we speak."
"Good. I hope he gets them here in one piece." Orifiel nodded and sat a little straighter. Seth cast her a scolding gaze, which only made her smile.
"I have no reason to doubt his abilities or his willingness."
"No, but he has a habit of making games out of things. Hopefully he'll be a bit more serious this time."
"He will. I believe he learned his lesson from the last set. And if he wishes to fulfill his goals, he will be serious this time." Seth shrugged, exhaling another cloud of earthy fragrance.
"Yes, he and Inge have grown restless these past few years. Hopefully this Hanariel Dawnblade's story holds true. Who did you say he was with again?" Orifiel asked, doing her best to stifle a yawn. Seth drained the last remnant of earthy life from his pipe before snuffing out the remains.
"A warlock of some ill repute. But I did a bit of digging and as it happens she is one of those who slaughtered Arthas, the Lich King at his highest hour. It is something the Argent Dawn and the Alliance havr done their best to keep quiet. As if those of the dark cloth do not exist in the taking back of this word." He bitterly snorted. Seth placed his whitewood pipe on the small oak table beside him and turned to face his mate. All harsh lines seem to disappear from his face at the sight of her. Though her hair never seemed out of place and her steps seemed to never falter outside of her bedroom walls, Orifiel's shoulders always seemed to hunch under his private gaze. A delightful blush always beckoned his lips to smile, and if he was lucky, she would clumsily knock something over, flailing desperately to ensure the item did not break. Something in his golden eyes made Orifiel's heart skip a beat. She knew that look, as she had seen it every night before the start of her final rounds. She brought a hand to stroke his bearded cheek.
"Can you skip rounds tonight?" He asked, snaking an arm around her bare waste and pulling his priestess a little closer. Orifiel felt her chest and cheeks grow hot and her knees begin to slightly shake. Despite the rush of warmth and the arms drawing her closer, she closed her eyes and shook her head.
"I would like that, but I have job to do…" She found her words cut off by a pair of worn but soft lips. The heat became overwhelming as sheets shifted once again and duty seemed to float away with the scent of sage and tobacco smoke.
"Ow! What?" Trenton huffed, rubbing the back of his head.
"You know what you did. Now shut the fuck up before I stuff a soul shard up your-"
"Keesha, don't." Hanariel softly sighed. It seemed as if the pair hadn't enjoyed a silent moment since the young mage's arrival. His comments spoke to his age and they were easily ignored for the first hour or two. When the subject turned to maters of fashion and uniform, Trenton's unfortunate observations about Lockeesha's scant garb set him on the dangerous path he tiptoed. But the sun was beginning to set in western Azshara and so too did the patience within the warlock.
"It was a compliment!" Trenton insisted, hands ready to block thrown spells, shoes, or stones.
"I don't see how being told I have fat ass is a compliment!"
"I didn't say it was FAT I said its…er…distractingly ample. I mean in your garb – it leaves little to the imagination is all." He nodded, looking to Hanariel for some sort of escape. But the priest kept his eyes on the path in front of them. The strange wood was once home to legions of vile naga but since the establishment of Mydrassil they were rarely seen so far from the shore.
"You gunna let this punk ass kid talk to me like that Han?"
"L-Leave me out of this."
"Whatever. The sooner we get to Mid-rassil the better. Get on with my damn life…" Keesha muttered. The dark sky seemed to grow brighter the further they traveled in the direction of the coast. As they came over the edge of large hill, the sight of a bright light in the distance overtook the paled glowing of the moon. The great branches slightly swayed in the magic-laden sea wind as its strong roots disappeared beneath the waves. A small, warm light sparked in Trenton and Hanariel's eyes.
"Look it's, Mydrassil!" Trenton announced.
"M-Mydrassil?" Hanariel asked, with his usual tremor slightly more pronounced.
"Its only a big ass tree." Keesha scoffed, two hissing "SHH!'s" were her only replies. For a long moment as the two men continued to marvel at the glistening behemoth. Each twinkle of its multi-colored leaves seemed like a warm stroke to their hearts.
"My professor told me there is a checkpoint on the shore we have to go through and after that we can catch a boat ride to the main gate. The goblins have a trade agreement with the Whitebranch Initiative. I suppose their loyalty to coinage trumps all." Trenton's voice shook with excitement, as his aura seemed to pull the others like a child's willful hand pulling his parents towards the window of a candy shop. A great set of steps built on the side of the step cliffs made it possible for them to decide safely onto the sandy beach bellow. A torch-lit checkpoint lay just out of tides reach, with a humble dock to the rear. As they approached they could see a line of people formed just outside the perimeter of the checkpoint. The guards seemed to ask for something tangible, as the people in queue quickly produced ten gold coins and the empty seems of their pockets. When the trio had their turn the guard taking their fair gave the handsome young mage a double take. Trenton smiled wickedly at him for a moment before handing him a note. The human guard took the note with a steady hand and read it quickly.
"A-Ah, I see you three travelers are here to see the Archmage." He spoke is his straightest voice. The guard had spoken with Trenton weeks before; strange instructions with little to no explanations were tucked away in the back of his helmet, nearly forgotten. He did his best to hold back his uncertainty as he felt the piercing gaze of the lovely female warlock on his person.
"Yes we are good sir. We're in a bit of a hurry…"
"Yes, move along. Move along." He said with a forward wave of his hand. Two of the three stepped towards the lantern-let dock. Keesha turned to head back towards the stairs. Trenton stopped for a moment and turned to see a black-cloaked back rustling towards the Cliffside.
"Lady Hazzad, where are you going?" He nervously laughed, taking off in a light jog towards her. Hanariel waited on the doc, taking in the strange smelling sea air.
"I told him I'd get him here safely. I got him here safely." She said, her feet not slowing in the slightest. Trenton moved and spoke quickly as his nimble mind churned out reasons for her to travel to the tree. When it seemed all of his ideas failed to halt her quickening steps, Trenton's last resort came.
"But Lady Hazzad, you simply must meet the Archmage. He'd be interested to finally meet one of the King slayers in person!" He nearly crashed into her stiffened back as Keesha seemingly turned into a living statue. She turned to him with suspicion and a tinge of fear in her deep brown eyes.
"Who told you that?" When no answer came, she reached up and roughly grabbed him by the collar. Careful not to shout and cause the lingering guards to intervene, she repeated the question in a venomous hiss: "Who told you?"
"Word gets around among those of the dark cloth, my lady. I am a mage but that doesn't mean I like to keep the company paladins, either. You're an inspiration to my friends. And as a dark slayer of great evils himself, I think the Archmage would appreciate your company. I honestly do." Trenton quickly spoke. They locked eyes for a moment; dark orbs meeting ones that barely held back the tempest. Keesha let him go and sighed, rubbing her forehead.
"I really don't get you…"
"If you come, I'll pay for all your meals for a week. And I hear there are creature comforts there too: shops, dance halls, spas, you know girlie things." Trenton suggested. She scanned his features, which seemed to resemble a dog who was desperate for his new master to follow. A small smirk came to her face as she placed both her hands on his tense shoulders.
"I'll go on one condition."
"Name it."
"Never talk about my ass or any other body part of mine ever again."