Straydog Saga
Flea 17: Pulp Diction
"What is it?" The human teen, whose youthful accent spoke of his Gilnean origin, marveled with bright brown eyes at the sight of the beautiful corpse. The young salesman, along with a Stormwind-born priest and dwarf tradesman, was traveling from Winterspring to the marvelous mystic tree off Azshara's tumultuous coast. Though the landscape often caused muttering prayers to leave the priest's lips their trek was uneventful at most. When they reached a small rise in the landscape, the travelers were lured from the safety of the well traveled road by a trail of gromsblood leading into a small valley. It was in mid pluck, when the group stumbled upon the body. The priest, dressed in bright red vestments, tucked the precious plants into his bag before leaning forward and wrinkled his nose at the smell.
"Its life Jim but not as we know it. Best leave her alone and move on…" The priest mused, taking a step back. The curious youngster leaned in to study the corpse's features. She was a beauty to behold, or at least she would have been in life. She only vaguely resembled the monsters that sometimes haunted Jim's youthful dreams but only due to the fact that she appeared dead and not in a coffin where she surely belonged. No bird hungered for her eyes or tongue. No ravenous animal came for her innards. The horrible injuries to her hands and throat would have contributed to or been a result of the fall, the priest surmised. The splattered pool of black blood beneath her seemed to act like a blanket on the cool ground. The dwarf, who Jim knew as 'McGowan', muttered something about letting no treasure remain buried with the beauty. He began rummaging through her pockets. In his work he did not notice the slight twitch in her shattered fingers. The sound of snapping and cracking bone did not seem to get his attention. Just as McGowan's grubby fingers found gold, a swift hand clamped down on the tradesman's throat. His eyes went wide in horror as the vibrant red glow returned to the corpse's now seeing orbs. Jim staggered back as the priest began to pray. The small trinkets, roused by the dwarf's touch managed to repair most of her injuries, save one. Highraven stood and found she still could not speak. With a gurgling hiss she threw the solidly built dwarf to the trees, managing to strike the priest square in the neck, snapping his head back. The pair toppled to the ground, leaving a shaking boy to cower behind a bush. Highraven grunted and looked around a moment before staggering towards the south. When Jim could not find her stench on the air, he ran from his hiding place to meet his traveling companions. Jim found the priest, lying still against a tree with the dwarf sitting beside him.
"I-Is he knocked out?" Jim asked with a slightly cracking voice. The tradesman looked to him and shook his head.
"It's worse than that, he's dead Jim…" McGowan informed, as he closed the red-dressed priest's eyes. Jim, shaking, looked around the forest as the light around them seemed to disappear. The pair carried their fallen companion towards the northern outpost, steps haunted by the black blood and lingering images of the fallen ranger.
The full moon gave a small glimmer of light through the night-breezed leaves. Though Eliza Sagepaw wore the form of a human woman of middle age she could still smell more than what aromas the natural world could muster. She looked down with squinting, disgust filled brown eyes at the sight before her. Slumbering in the ditch was Daggerfang in his worgen form, a knife in one clawed hand and an empty whiskey bottle in the other. Her keen vision saw the bumps and bruises of a rough tossing and a tightly closed door just behind him.
"Why am I not surprised? WAKE UP!" She grumbled, nudging the snorting worgen with a less than gentle boot. Daggerfang snorted for a moment but began nuzzling the ground with a groan. Sagepaw crossed her arms and kicked harder earning her a yelp and a pair of open but bloodshot eyes.
"Whutizit?" Daggerfang rumbled as he lurched forward, but found himself unable to stand. He sat there, legs crossed, and yawned. His eyes seemed to beg that words he had not missed in his time married to the woman seemed ready to burst from her pursed lips. But nothing came to assault his ringing ears. Instead she offered the rogue a hand.
"Get up. We need to talk."
"Bout wha?" Daggerfang winced, not at the woman's touch but at the pain in his swimming head. Sagepaw quickly steadied him in a way she used to over 5 years prior, looking for any signs of alcohol poisoning. His bulkier physique seemed to aid in his processing of the two bottles of whiskey he downed, unlike his prior fur-less form. She led him to the hospital and helped him into a clean bed in one of her assigned rooms. He couldn't lie down due to the spinning feeling in his stomach but was fine to sit and lean against the wall. Sagepaw closed the door and sat at a small desk in the corner of the room.
"Didn't mean to drive you t'drink yourself sick…" Eliza sighed; opening a long drawer filled with vials and dried ingredients.
"Wit tha waaarm welcome earlier? You sure?" Daggerfang snorted, trying not to move his head too much.
"You think it's easy for me, you showing up out of the blue like that? I suppose you didn't 'ave a lotta choice with melty-chest upstairs but…" Eliza gave him a suspicious look. "Why are you looking after someone like 'im. He must mean something to ya to bring 'im my way." She shook her head as she began mixing a pain remedy. Daggerfang wanted to shake his head but did not.
"He busted me outta jail with the night elf girlie. I owed 'im." The words made Eliza snort as she began poring water into the medicinal powder.
"You, in jail? Na, never believe THAT story." She rolled her eyes with a sigh. There was a silence between them as Eliza passed her ex husband the vial. He sniffed it curiously and gave her a brief look, ears tilting back a little.
"Not poison is it?" A stern look was his answer as Daggerfang downed the contents of the vial in one gulp.
"How long will you be stayin' then?"
"Don't know. I don't owe the elf nothin' no more. I may 'ead back to Gilnaeas if I can." He shrugged. Eliza cringed at the mention of her birth city. She did her best to quell the fuzzy images sharpening in her mind. She quickly stood and moved to a small basin of water resting on one of the night stands beside the bed. She poured some of the cool water into two small cups. She took hers up leaving Daggerfang the option of lifting his own glass.
"Don't know how you can stomach that place now. Is the house still there?"
"Nah, long gone." Daggerfang sighed and took a quick swig of water. "But the pub's rebuilt. The little one on Grey Lane."
"I remember…does Fran still work there?"
"Franny? No. No, things didn't work out too well for 'er. 'eard from 'er dad she doesn't much come out of her room since things went wolfy." He sighed.
"Oh." Awkward silence filled the room like a brisk breeze. Eliza heard the bed creak a little as Daggerfang stood. He began walking to the door but stopped.
"Where's the Inn?" He cleared his throat. Eliza looked over her shoulder for a moment, eyes just barely capturing his form before replying.
"Three blocks from here, make a left at the exit. You can't miss it." She dryly informed. Daggerfang lingered there a moment before nodding. The swimming sensation in his head was nearly gone thanks to Eliza's potion.
"See you around then." Daggerfang walked with his large clawed hands in his pockets towards the door. His ears were perked for any call or gesture to make him stay but Eliza remained silent. He couldn't see her teeth gritting or her eyes going a slight tinge of gold as old memories began brewing in her mind. He left the hospital with a different sort of headache that evening, not staying around to watch the embattled Eliza transform into the worgen druid "Sagepaw." She growled and stormed off into the street, in the direction of her small dormitory. Her roommate, an elderly troll with short, gouging tusks, barely had time to move as the growling wolf- woman barreled through the narrow hallway to her bedroom. She slammed the door shut, knowing the polite elder would not disturb her in such a state and plopped in her soft bed. She glared at her humble pine-made desk with a sigh. She shook her head a moment before a shaking claw moved towards a dusty drawer. She opened it, eyes scanning the single, neglected object within. She reluctantly picked it up all rage growing cold into an icy sorrow. The cracked window bore a single image, long yellowed and stained. The image told the story of an often drunk but smiling husband with a hammer-strong arm around his common but comely wife. Her eyes were full of mischief and spark with loving hands on the shoulders of her only son. Sagepaw snarled and threw the image back into the drawer, slamming it shut. The sound of breaking glass and the echo of the closed drawer seemed to echo endlessly in Sagepaw's pointed ears as small tears began their slow journey to the billow beneath her.
"Oh Elune, this is epic." Shandori cackled. Christoffel grimaced as he desperately moved his face away from the tepid portage, laden spoon before him.
"G-Geh…tha shit…'way…from me!" He rasped. The druids in their skill and fleet-flowing magic managed to shrink the tumors on Christoffel's chest. They removed them without much damage to his chest although deep scars would forever mark his ordeal. Despite his major success, he was still far too weak to speak let alone lift a hand to feed himself. The honor and bland-oat filled bowl was placed in Shandori's lap. Her eyes glittered with delight as she circled the spoon around like a griffon, waiting to land on Christoffel's tightly closed perch.
"Oh come on, widdle Cwis. How are you gunna gwow big n stwong if you don't eat your yummy-nummy powage?" Shandori struggled to keep from laughing as she spoke.
"I'm…gon…kill you…" He weakly hissed as in his moment of weakness, Shandori's villainous spoon lunged forward and hit its mark. Christoffel resisted the urge to spit out the tepid mush while Shandori's hand ensured his lips stayed closed until he swallowed. With a small whimper he felt the oats slither down his throat and sink to the pit of his stomach.
"Was that so hard?"
"H-Hate…you."
"Yeah, yeah, I hate you too." Shandori rolled her eyes and placed the bowl on the side table. Her ears perked at the sound of padded paw-steps making their way to Christoffel's room. The paws stopped and in a rush of wind, a human woman appeared in the door frame. The serious look on Eliza's face seemed to deflate the lighthearted clouds that seemed to float about the room. Eliza pursed her lips as she walked over to there Christoffel lay. She looked to the pair and pulled some rolled up papers from her pocket.
"Seems you two 'ave a problem." She flatly spoke as she unrolled the pages to several wanted posters and held them so Chris and Shandori could both see. The charges were more severe than previously posted but the numbers and words had little impact on the night elf.
"Yeah, so? We have immunity here…don't we?" Shandori's brow furrowed a little as Eliza shrugged.
"Yeah, but the sentinels arrived this morning and it doesn't look like they want to go 'ome empty 'anded. Considering the severity of your crime, I don't doubt any of the druids who sympathize with the Alliance would care much if they dragged you out kicking'n screaming."
"So what, you wanna start something?" Shandori half asked, half accused. Eliza slowly shook her head.
"No, you 'elped my idiot ex 'usband out and 'e needs all the 'elp 'e can get. You'll be safe 'ere. But Lilliona don't like you much, so don't be surprised if the sentinels end up camping outside the 'ospital." Eliza informed.
"Lilli-who?"
"The night elf nurse you met when you got 'ere."
"Oh that scum bag. Yeah figures." Shandori crossed her arms. "Is there anyway we can sneak outta here once he's on his feet?"
"This isn't a castle. No secret exits or trap doors or nothing. 'onestly the reason they 'aven't stormed this place for your bones is because'a your 'orde friends. Since they claim you as such, you and the rest of the "traitors" are off limits." Eliza soothed as she poured Christoffel's medicine into a small cup. She helped Shandori lift Christoffel up and administer the medicine. The cool green liquid tasted of mint and cherry. Chris smiled and gave a weak laugh.
"S'better than…th'portage." For the first time since either of them had met the druid, the elves witnessed a small smile spreading through her thin pink lips.
"I'd like to see you do better with our budget. Ah, anyway rest up, the both'a you'll need it. I'll keep an eye on things and let you know if anything 'appens." Eliza said with a confirming nod. She bid them both a good afternoon and informed that she would be sending one of the nurses in with some tea and sandwiches at lunch, provided Christoffel had the strength to chew. Neither elf knew just how many sentinels awaited them once they stepped outside the hospital grounds but Shandori had no way of knowing that one in their number would stop at nothing to achieve her capture.
"Waaaa no wonder why you leaf-breathers love it here, this place is amazing!" Imagin half spoke, half sung as she spun around with her arms extended. Potan gave a twisted smile at the nickname and shook his head with a snort.
"Well if you magic-eaters took a moment to remove your tusks from your books, you'd see nature's wonder all around you, even in the most desolate of places." Potan chuckled. The pair started their tour of Moonglade with a humble meal of nuts, berries, and an enriched salad. They visited the great lake, and some of the shops around Nighthaven where Imajin was able to pick up a few items to use in her fetish making. They walked the paths leading to the shrine of Remulos, but Imajin shook her head when asked if she wanted to pay homage at the shrine. Her kind eyes and slight blush spoke to her respect of the scene, and how her arcane presence may upset some of the local dryads. Instead they traveled to some of the public and more secluded gardens where the sparkling flora dazzled in the low light. The hulking Tauren knelt in a meditative stance. The weather around them was perfectly calm and the sounds of the forest were like small, gently lullabies.
"Miss Imajin, do you mind terribly if I take some time to reflect…"
"Not at all, I brought a little sketchbook with me." Ima smiled and pulled the dusty paper book from her travel-purse. She knelt beside a patch of vibrantly speckled flowers and, with a small piece of charcoal that was tucked in the rope bindings of the book, began to record their likenesses. She felt her eyes dart from the spots and curves of their delicate petals to the page, her clumsy fingers doing their best to capture their majesty. She sighed a little in memory of her small but nimble gnomish hands. She could draw the most intricate designs with great speed. A pang struck deep within her at the approaching change of the season. Her new school term was approaching and without her disguise she knew she could never set foot inside one of the elite classrooms. What was only supposed to be a small summer job turned out to be far more of an adventure than she wanted. But the long blue appendages that were her current fingers crafted a fine likeness of the wind-dancing plants and if given the chance could weave the energies of the cosmos just as well. She smiled a little as the cool breeze seemed to make the petals flutter like butterfly wings. Ima found her head tilting at one, tiny little plant that seemed to continue its dance even as the air around them began to settle. With a raised brow and curious fingers, she reached out to touch one of the bright pink-speckled petals. Ima felt her heart leap when the little plant moved out of the way. The little creature shuttered and Ima could hear the faint sound of roots pulling themselves from the soil.
"What the?" She mused, causing one of Potan's long ears to twitch. When the little plant emerged, it seemed to peer up at the mage, and tilted the little bloom that seemed to act as a head a little to the side. "Hey there little fella…I wont hurt you." Ima softly spoke as she extended a hand. The little plant tilted its bloom downward and seemed to lick Ima's finger with a twirled purple pollen stalk. Ima resisted the urge to giggle as the cute action coupled with the tickly feeling shooting up her arm threatened to break what little concentration Potan still possessed. As the Tauren shifted to stand, the little plant crawled into Ima's palm. She lifted it closer to her face and proceeded to stroke the fragile petals with a gentle finger. Ima nearly let out a gleeful "eee!" as the little creature in her palm seemed to nuzzle her petting hand.
"You're so cute! I'm going to call you 'Herbert.'" She nodded a smug smile creeping onto her face from the witty idea.
"What is that you have there, Imajin?" Potan grunted as he knelt to see the tiny plant-ling twirling its rooty feet around Ima's fingers. His eyes seemed to widen in awe at the sight.
"His name's Herbert, at least I think it's a he…it is pink. What's wrong?"
"Imajin, do you know what that is?" Potan whispered, seemingly fearful of scaring the little creature away. Imajin shook her head. "It is Dryad's Delight."
"Silly Potan, Dryad's Delight is a blue flower with thorns and a really distinct smell. This little guy is some kind of lasher." She asserted. Potan shook his head, rings and beads in his long beard clicking. The sound made the little plant shutter.
"That IS Dryad's Delight, a juvenile. As it grows its petals will turn violet then blue. Thorns will grow after that and when its ready to pollinate it will produce the cylix that creates that smell." Potan informed, lessons he thought would never be of any use proving their worth in that moment. Ima slowly shook her head and looked to the little creature dancing about in her hand. While it did have many characteristics of the common lasher, the shape and patterns on its petals were quite different. They did match the patterns on the plant she still needed to complete her disguise. Ima shook her head in denial but a very faint smell coming from the charming little plant confirmed the icy feeling in her chest. She felt as if a heavy cloud hung over her hung shoulders as the adorable little plant danced about her palm.
"Oh no."
"What is wrong, Imajin, was this not the plant you needed to cultivate? We could really use its seed to ensure a greater population when it matures…" Potan stopped his thought when two angry red eyes met his. Imajin clutched the plant to her bosom, and it seemed all too glad to extend its little leaves in a hugging motion.
"But if we take the seeds out he'll die."
"That is true, but they can be extracted after the plant dies on it own as well. We need not take them now, they would not be viable." Potan nodded. Something in Ima's eyes seemed saddened by the thought of the adorable Herbert meeting his end in a matter of weeks.
"Still, I can see why they call them Dryad's Delight, he's so delightful." Ima smiled, placing the tiny plant on her thick shoulder. Despite the hardship it took to bring her to the sacred grove, the shimmering plant that moved to tickle her cheek seemed to make all the dark events fade forever into memory.
"So then he says ta me 'Did you see a sign outside that said DEAD NAGA STORAGE?' if he didn't have a boomstick to my throat, I mighta burst out laughin." F-Bomb laughed. Meryld found a booming sound escaping her throat as well. Despite the gloom that seemed to follow the pair from Nighthaven, the pair found they both had many entertaining adventures to share. Thoughts of the injured blood elf seemed to leave all together as they were welcomed by the sighs and lingering smells of the Timbermaw Hold.
"Why did you and your brother take the dead naga with you anyhow?" Meryld asked, wiping a small tear from her wrinkled eyelid.
"Sometimes they have magical stuff in them, good for potions, spells, we figured we could get a good price but the bastard was clean. I dunno if my pal was more bothered by the stains on his rug or the fact that he couldn't make any money off it." F-Bomb shrugged. The pair reached the Timbermaw tunnel to an amicable welcome. Several furbolgs, who saw the pair carting around a gravely ill elf only a day or so before, offered their prayers and any goods they might need on their trip north. F-bomb took the time to speak with each of the ursine people, further strengthening her renown and reputation among their numbers. They were given gifts of cloth, feathers, and fresh fruit. Meryld couldn't help but smile as the bite of apple yielded so much sweet juice a small amount of it dripped off her chin. She used her sleeve to remove the wetness from her face only to have the aroma linger on her dirty shirt. As they approached the exit tunnel leading to the snowy valley of Winterspring the sound of a strong pair of hooves approached from behind. They turned, as a meek voice met their ears, to see the vision of a young, doe-eyed draenei girl with a demure expression standing behind them.
"Yeah, whaddaya want?" F-bomb asked, her words causing the pig-tailed girl to slightly blush.
"You are a-adventurers, yes?"
"You could say that, why?" Meryld asked, straightening her belt. The girl seemed to lightly bite on her lower lip with her top teeth.
"W-Well, are you headed to Winterspring city?"
"Yeah…" F-Bomb crossed her arms and gave a side glance to the elder, human-looking woman beside her.
"C-Could I come with you? My brother and his friend are waiting for me there but I got a bit turned around in the tunnel and I'm unsure of where to go. They can pay you when we get there, I don't have much money…" F-Bomb shook her hear though Meryld appeared to consider it. The darling face appeared to be very new, very bright, not yet torn down by the trials of life. But F-bomb tugged on her shirt tails and motioned for her to bend down. When Meryld's ear was in whisper range, F-bomb began hissing her words.
"We don't got time for this. We need to get the hell outta here before someone comes looking. She'd slow us down."
"Oh come on, she's just a girl…"
"Yeah, so how does a girl like that get passage through the hold if she's never been in it before? Something's fishy about that." F-bomb asserted, giving a suspicious glance over her shoulder.
"P-Please I won't be any trouble. I don't have much, so I can run far. Its night and I do not know my way and the furbolgs will not help me…" She pleaded eyes bright and scanning for any hint of compassion. She found it breaking through the wrinkled smile on Meryld's face.
"You can come along, but don't make any trouble." She said with an almost mothering tone. F-bomb's shoulders and nose went up. "What's your name, missy?" Meryld asked as the three felt the fresh winter snow meet their feet.
"Thank you so much for the help. I'm Pashima, it's so nice to meet you both!" Pashima happily skipped, hooves clopping on the path.
"Be careful, there could be ice." Meryld called, but the wisdom fell on cheerfully deaf ears. F-bomb scowled and crossed her arms, casting Meryld an angry look.
"This is gunna be a LONG trip…"