The Forsaken refugees quietly filed in for their rations atop the gates of Orgrimmar. Where once there had been chatter and laughter breaking out there was now a dreary, almost mechanical silence over the proceedings.
While he was aware of the irony of the feeling, it truly killed Benedikt to see his people so sorrowful. Though it may have never been noticed by the living, this was a time of year when the Forsaken were festive. The anniversary of their great liberation was nearing. It was once a time for the burning of effigies, spiced skull shocker and carmelized gnome liver. But today what, really, did the Forsaken have to celebrate? Homeless, wounded and betrayed by the Banshee Queen many Forsaken seemed to feel their namesake was more apt and cruel than ever before.
âOur food stocks should last for several months and complaints about the presence of Naga meat have ceased.â Kaligari reported to Benedikt who quietly nodded.
Kaligari scoffed, âYou can say youâve changed all you like, Bile. But some things never do - youâve always delighted in saying âI told you soâ. I wouldâve thought the Windrunnerâs absence would put you in high spirits. We no longer must be so exhaustively clandestine about operationsâ.
Benedikt shrugged, âPart of me had hoped I was wrong. That perhaps I was missing something. That Iâd be proven a fool for doubting herâ he said, twiddling his old Royal Apothecary Society signet between his claws.
âIâll be sure to inform our men of your considerable disappointment at not being proved a doomed foolâ Kaligari muttered as he made his exit.
Benedikt considered throttling his lieutenant for insolence but he couldnât drum up the enthusiasm for even that. Kaligari wasnât wrong, afterall, part of Benedikt felt vindicated but in that bittersweet way only confirming dreadful suspicions can.
Dejected, Benedikt threw an apothecaryâs cloak over his armor and walked down into the city. He strode through the Valley of Strength, his mood creating a pulse of dark energy that neatly parted the crowd of late night revelers. As he entered the quieter Drag he opted to distract his sadness with work thoughts. Heâd just about finished calculating the blood costs for war bats when a voice rung out at about thigh height.
âHey, misterâ the stranger called.
Benedikt whirled around with a glare, expecting to find another Goblin grifter trying their luck at the used limb trade, but immediately softened upon seeing two now very nervous children.
âSorrywedidntmeantobotheryouâ blurted the Orcish child as his SinâDorei friend hid behind him.
Benedikt smirked and lowered his hood, crouching so he could better meet their eyes.
âVell Iâm afraid youâve mein attention now. How kann I help you?â he inquired.
âUhh⌠she said the Forsaken really like Hallowâs Endâ murmured the orc boy.
Benedikt nodded and let a few seconds of silence pass before adding an âUnd?â.
âCan you help us carve a jackolantern?â the elf girl said, stepping from behind her friend turned orcish shield while brandishing a mangled pumpkin.
Benedikt wasnât sure what they were attempting to carve but the directionless stabbing visited upon the squash reminded him of training dummies at Graveguard Cadaver classes.
âVhat ever did zis pumpkin do to anger you so much?â Benedikt asked.
âItâs not my fault! I wanted an ogre face but then she made me do a pony!â protested the orc boy.
âI said a warhorse and you said you could! You said you were good with blades!â retorted the elf girl.
Benedikt allowed the argument to devolve into hair pulling as he reached around his bag and removed a potion, dumping it over the pumpkin and restoring it.
âWELL MY DAD COULD BEAT UP YOURS HE WAS A BLOOD KNIGHT AND-â the Elf Girlâs portion of the debate was interrupted by a loud AHEM from Benedikt.
âHow about ve just start over?â Benedikt suggested, presenting the healed plant.
The children ceased their quarrel and turned their attention to the immaculately restored pumpkin.
âVhat do you vant karved?â he asked.
âOh. Umâ they said in unison.
âA warhorse. The matron said ghosts are around this time of year. I wanna make something that will make my dad feel welcomeâ the elf girl offered.
âYeah! All the ghosts! I donât wanna get eaten by a worgen ghost! Make it an angry face to scare them off!â the Orc boy countered.
Benedikt maintained a smile but frowned internally as the children bickered. He didnât have to read their minds to know they were recently orphaned and it didnât take a diviner to figure out how that happened.
âBoth of your parents vere soldiers?â Benedikt asked.
The heated debate over if a scorpid or lynx was scarier went cool as both of the kids looked at the ground and murmured yes.
âZen vhy donât ve make somesing zatâll make zeir spirits feel velcome zat vill also scare away worgen ghosts?â he offered.
The two children nodded and Benedikt quickly went to work on the helpless produce. He gutted the pumpkin with a fluid plunge of the claws before slashing his symbol into itâs flesh. Satisfied with the operation he finished it off with an invocation of the Holy Light, filling the fruit with a hot white fire. The pumpkin proved to be without sin and so the flame burned harmlessly within it.
The children gasped as the symbol of the Horde glowed brilliantly from the newly made jackolantern.
âTHATâS PERFECT!â they exclaimed in unison.
Benedikt levitated the jackolantern up in between them, adding a âHappy Hallowâs Eveâ as the Orc boy grabbed it.
The two children loudly thanked him before running off with their new prize.
âSee? I told you he wouldnât eat us!â He heard the elf girl yell as they frolicked down the Drag.
Benedikt chortled at he stood up, his spirits considerably raised. Their living allies were becoming less scared of the Forsaken. As he watched his newly carved symbol fade into the distance he mused that while in dire straits, his people were far from truly hopeless. The harsh sun of Durotar may never feel as welcoming as the cool mists of Tirisfal but within the Horde they could never truly be without a home.