Note: Blizzard owns World Of Warcraft.
This is taking a bit longer than expected, but I didn't want to rush anything and churn out a sub par chapter. Hang in there, guys. =] There was only one beta reader this time around, so a few things may have been missed. I'll try to catch them as I go.
He who lusts through life for excess in this world.
Dies a lonely man, careless of his soul.
Throwing caution to the wind with foolish ignorance.
You're full of pride.
And in arrogance you can't accept the nearing end of this short lived life.
Smile and give a toast, brag and boast.
Fool the world with all of your lies.
The parasite's host never even knows.
Pull the wool over our eyes.
Walk the line and pay the price.
A pound of flesh for paradise.
Wear the wounds of your demise.
- 10 Years, Picture Perfect (In Your Eyes)
Kye watched her footing on the wooden roof tiles as she made her way silently through the city of Stormwind. Everything looked so drab compared to Silvermoon. The battlements were so poorly guarded that she had easily timed her chance to slip over one side shortly upon arriving. It was a new moon tonight and that provided the perfect cover in the night. From what she had scouted from above, everything was closing down and all civilians were tucked in for the night save one human.
She made note of his sidearm and uniform. He was one of the human kings men. Kye paused and quietly watched him as he stopped before one house and waited for a few minutes before heading off again across the street. He disappeared inside of a second house and Kye took off across the rooftops again. It wasn't until she was sneaking around a chimney did the banging of a window catch her off guard, nearly resulting in her plummet to the street. After taking a few deep breaths and steadying her nerves; Kye poked her head up to see where it had come from.
The same man from before leaned dangerously out of the window with a flask in hand. Kye could see he was probably drunk as his dark auburn hair was lazily thrown to one side and a tangled mess. Bloodelves take more pride in themselves than this human, Kye thought smugly. Not that she should be singing their praises just yet.
This was a test and a dangerous one. Kye had failed so much in her ranger training that her mentor had pushed her off to the dark alley of the rogues in frustration. She, too, felt frustrated with how things were going. Being just over one hundred years of age and not really adept at much left her to the wayside with her friends who all excelled at magic, bows or blades. Even the socialites only tossed a polite comment or two her way during parties, but would saunter off in their own circles to gab about the latest fashion or gossip. Kye was certain she was being tolerated due to her famiy's wealth and nothing else.
The rogue trainer had looked quite skeptical of Kye's skill. It was no secret that things did not come easy to her and so, many instructors avoided interaction with her. Kye knew that they were only trying to save face. In Silvermoon your image was quite possibly more important than your skills. Lavish parties and all the right people could almost always be found in the usual spots each day and night. Kye had almost given up hope trying to find her niche when the rogue trainer made a wager with her. If Kye could sneak into Stormwind and plant a simple goblin listening device in one of the militia strategy rooms then the rogue would sign off on her training so that she could do whatever she wished. Free time would be hers again with her father non the wiser.
Which brought Kye back around to the roof she was currently clinging to. As soon as she found sure footing, she spared a look to the human once more and saw him handling the sidearm she had spotted holstered at his hip earlier. His face looked... empty. Kye may have not had many dealings with the humans in general, but she recognized the defeat when she saw it. Quietly she used her arms to pull herself up further and wondered what exactly the human was thinking of doing at this late hour.
Her eyes grew in size as he raised the pistol to his head and looked directly at her. The seconds crawled by like hours and Kye felt her heart race. Finally she ducked back down the opposite side of the steep roof and lept to the next building.
I've been spotted. I'm as good as dead.
Bran blinked a few times and then jumped into action. Alcohol be damned. He was clothed in his uniform and out his front door in a matter of moments. He could smell the bloodelf on the air and he tracked her. He felt the inner beast beg to be released. Bran bit down on the inside of his mouth in frustration. They both knew he was stronger in his true worgen form. Instead, his boots hit the cobblestones harder in an effort to pick up speed even though he was slightly unsteady. The bloodelf had taken to the ground now, using alleyways. Bran was gaining on her bit by bit as he caught glimpses of her shadow each time she rounded a corner.
Taking a chance on her route and naivety of the city's layout, Bran chose to cut around through the back of the district. The bloodelf slid to a stop in front of him and he tackled her to the ground. She kneed him in the ribs but he fought to trap her wrists to her side so that she could not pull a blade on him.
"Guards!" Bran called out. The bloodelf was not only thin but extremely flexible beneath him and the burning sensation at his ribs let him know she'd been successful in sheating a small dagger into his side. Bran grunted at the pain and looked the elf dead in the eye. For a second both of them stilled. Bran took in her white hair that was sheared off in bits around her chin. The elf's eyes were pale green like that of new spring grass shoots. He could tell she was also looking him over but her attention was focused on the center of his face. Suddenly her head came forehead and collided with his nose. Stars filled his vision and he felt and tasted the blood gush from his twice broken nose as it ran down the back of his throat as well as his face and past his lips he was forced to breathe from.
Three armored guards appeared from the canal walkways to see what the commotion was about. As soon as they realized their jailer had someone detained on the ground they were there at his side with shackles.
Heaving from the chase and the surge of adrenaline, Bran pulled the dagger from his flesh. Bright red blood coated it from tip to hilt and Bran felt his head spin. "Lock her in cell block D. No prisoners are in there. If some have to be moved, do it!" He barked orders to the guards on duty and fought to clear his head. It was aching something fierce in rebellion to the assault and his sudden exercise. "No one touches her! Do you hear me?!..." Bran coughed and gingerly touched his nose, the blood from his hands ended up smeared over his features. A priest had been summoned and he was working quickly to heal Bran's wounds while the guards dragged the bloodelf away. For the first time in a year Bran was super-charged with a purpose. It might have been the drink, the bloodloss or a combination of the two, but he would find out why a spy had been sent to Stormwind.
Kye paced in her cell. This was bad. What started out as an out to hours of useless training ended up with certain imprisonment. Did the alliance execute spies? She continuously beat herself up over skipping lessons and spending so much time out in the wilds. Now she was caged. Like an animal, she thought. That thought alone sent more panic through her veins.
She'd already checked the cell for ways out and it was locked down tight. A guard was posted in the room as well as one near the door. Kye could hear the humans conversing in common tongue and she wished dearly that she knew what they were saying. The language teachings Kye had so easily dismissed would have come in handy right about now.
Two male humans entered the room; one of them considerably larger built. He eyed Kye darkly and it made her shudder. This man would cause her harm, that she had no doubt. She had heard stories of merchant bloodelf women being taken by groups of human militia. The unspeakable things that had been done to them in secret... Kye refused to let herself cry. If either one of them stepped foot into her cell, she was ready to fight with her bare fists.
If Dredrick did nothing else in his life, he did two important things before passing on. He instilled in his son a deep sense of honor that would reverbrate through Bran's life until the very end. It was Dredricks hope that if Bran had a son, that he too, would pass the teachings a long. The second thing he insisted on was education. Bran could read, write and speak several languages that could only prove beneficial. At times Bran found himself knowing the exact words to express himself in everything but the common tongue. Through these two things, Bran would acquire wisdom; of this Dredrick was certain. They were as poor as farmers in Westfall could be but Dredrick was set on his son rising above and making a better life for himself.
Now it was because of those things that Bran placed himself in charge of the bloodelf spy. He was fluent in Thalassian and that skill would be needed if they wanted to properly interrogate their prisoner. Bran also saw no honor in toture tactics used on women regardless of their race or which side they fought for.
When Bran descended the stairs of the stockades, he tensed at the sound of Gaeb's voice traveling down the halls. With a sense of urgency Bran quickened his strides to bring him to the door of the last cell block. They'd placed the bloodelf in a section of cells by herself. Most of their other prisoners were lacking in morales and their prescense as well as catcalls would make interrogating her difficult.
"I say we rough 'er up a bit first and see if we can take that smirk off 'er pretty little face." Gaeb sported a smirk of his own as he eyed the white-haired elf up and down.
Bran knew him all too well and was painfully aware of the thoughts racing through Gaeb's perverted mind. "No one... will be laying a hand on her." Bran let the authority in his voice echo throughout the room with his hands in fists at his side. The effect had the elf's attention on Bran in a flash and her green eyes narrowed. Bran spared her a glance and she returned it with an angry glare.
"Listen to 'em, Rorick. Sounds like he's crawled outta that bottle he's been living in." Gaeb turned to face Bran. Scars lined Gaeb's face with one particularly red one from his temple to his chin.
Bran stood there, unable to speak. They had grown up together and yet, Bran almost didn't recognize the man in front of him. It wasn't only his appearance that had been altered, but the worst of his personality had won out as well. "Gaeb... It's good to see you made it back."
Gaeb looked over his shoulder at the elf and winked just once before pushing past Bran as he left.
"He's different, Bran..." Rorick had an almost horrified look in his eyes from the encounter. "I didn't even know his ship had made it into port."
Bran gently touched his fingers to his nose. It was the one thing he hadn't let the priest heal and the injury caused his speech to have a congested sound to it. "We'll need to sit watch on her. I have a feeling that he is dying to get revenge on something and a woman from the enemy side in a cage is just too easy."
"Agreed. Not a peep from her, but from the looks she is giving you, I'd say she's pissed. The smell of fear is flowing off of her in waves, though." Rorick nodded to Bran and whistled for his canine companion.
Bran scratched his unshaven face a moment before grabbing a wooden chair and placing it near the cell. He sat in it backwards and rested his face on his arms. It had been a long night and he was worn to the bone. Drinking himself to sleep each night definitely did not come without it's downsides.
He watched the elf watch him with seething eyes and said nothing. Bran studied her for several long minutes. Half of him was waiting on her to show some sign before he pulled his rabbit from the hat and spoke to her in her own tongue and the other half was giving his body time to completely process his drink.
The elf looked away from Bran suddenly but he caught the slight quiver in her bottom lip and the sudden mist in her eyes. He knew that elves lived much longer than humans and so their age of maturity was significantly older. Bran had rarely spent time in the company of elves save those on the alliance side who served with him. Culture and social hiearchy had not been something to come up in conversation. The night elves were mostly quiet and only spoke when they had something worth saying. It often came off to the humans as snobbery, but Bran knew the difference between snobbery and wisdom. That wasn't to say some didn't tip their nose in the air from time to time, but overall, they were simply the private sort.
It was a good guess that this bloodelf was young and just beyond the precipice of maturity if she allowed that much emotion to show on her face. Bran guessed that it would only take a few days to wear her down into talking. He'd give her this whole first day with silence and minimal rations and then tackle her nerves tomorrow.
Rorick returned upon the next hour to relieve Bran. "You should eat and get some rest."
"I will, thank you," Bran said. "All you have to do is make sure she doesn't escape and no one unwanted comes in." He didn't need to include names for both of them to mentally land on the same person.
Once home, Bran poured a steaming bath and soaked. His lazy muscles that had been punishing him for the drunken chase sighed in relief. He relinquished his bath in favor of a needed nap and ate bread and cheese from the pantry when he woke a few hours later. Just after dressing for the second time that day, he thought of what he could do to win the pale elf over. Considering what most women enjoyed having on hand, Bran sought out the box of Moira's things he had kept. In a wooden box stowed away under his bed was a piece of jewelry, a small bottle of perfume and a hairbrush.
Bran removed the hairbrush carefully and brought it to his nose. It barely smelled of Moira now, only faintly. For a moment he tried to feel some sort of pain at the thought of giving away an item that reminded him of her. All that came was a ever deepening pit of emptiness that proceeded the brief ache in his chest. There was nothing left in him to grieve.
He cleaned the horse hair and stuck the brush in his pack as a future playing card. It wasn't long after tidying up the mess he had made that Bran headed back to the stocks. Rorick was just as he had left him in the chair, whittling wood into arrow shafts to pass the time.
"You missed some words from that one," Rorick said and used the blade in his hand to point to his right.
"Oh?" Bran gave a sideways glance to the elf. "Anything relevent?"
"Mumbling. Mostly insults and nonsense. None of it sounded like a plea or question." Rorick stood from the chair and his hunting companion came to attention at his side.
"I'll take it from here then. Sleep well, friend." Bran patted Rorick on the back as he passed. Once they were alone Bran pulled the hairbrush from his pack and fiddled with it a bit. It caught the bloodelf's attention as she eyed it warily. "You can have it if you would like," Bran stated in Thalassian.
This garnered a startled look from the elf. Her eyes were wide and her expression surprised. Instead of speaking she whipped her head away from Bran and focused on the air in front of her. Bran could hear her heart race and could see her swallow several times.
"I'll just leave it here." Bran slid the brush through the bars with one hand across the floor and then went back to occupy the wooden chair. The brush continued to remain untouched.
It was going to be a long night.