The menacing shadow of a Forsaken war bat, cast large in the light of the setting Westfall sun, made it’s way across the plains. Dusk had set in by the time the creature of the night had reached the outskirts of Sentinel Hill. The sudden scattering of local wildlife at the scent of an apex predator was the only warning the guards received.
It was lost on them. The more experienced soldiers of the Alliance who knew to watch the land were half a world away. These were provincial conscripts. Most hadn’t wielded much beyond a pitchfork and were just happy at the opportunity for pay. Luckily for them their unwelcome guest knew this and had no ill will toward honest salt of Azeroth folks. Taking the Lion’s gold would be grounds enough for a death sentence to him in most cases but he understood how hard it was to get by out here. Afterall he was once one of them, and that connection is what brought Stanton Creed to Sentinel Hill’s graveyard. Well that and too much whiskey, that damned poison always made him soft.
He landed on the outskirts of town and commanded Batthew to circle quietly. He wouldnt back down from a battle if one found him but he wasn’t here for a gunfight and needed quick extraction if that came to pass. Bossman’s patience for his drunken bouts of violence was already razor thin as is. He blended in with the dark and skulked amongst the tombstones. He hadn’t been here in a long while but he could find it blindfolded. One doesn’t easily forget the day they officially become an orphan.
He approached a weathered tombstone. The words Charles Creed had been rendered almost unreadable by a combination of elements and indifferent neglect. Stanton traced the name with his claws before taking a gulp of Badlands bourbon and sitting down beside it.
“Hey dad” he said at the tombstone.
“Spose I’m doing alright these days, all thangs considered. Werkin’ an honest job for once. I know yew and ma prolly didn’ want me to have this sorta… ‘life’ I guess” Stanton said, sighing and gesturing at his undead form.
“I f$#%ked up pa. I f%$#ked up real bad. Ned, he’s deader than me. Don’t know where ta’ fel Abby or Joe at” he grumbled, “Damn Blue cloaks dragged 'em off after ya left. I, fought back. Ned shot one. We ran off. Ain’t seen em since”.
He took another swig of bourbon. His sorrow twisted into anger and he waved his gun at the tombstone.
“Ya yellow sunnab%$#h why’d ya leave us? Drank yerself here. Ya idiot. Light help me I was 'jus sixteen. Fel were ya thinking?!” He pulled the hammer back on his firearm and pointed it at the stone with a shaking hand.
His weapon fell to his side and Stanton leaned his head on the tombstone, black tears begining to stream down his face.
“I f%$#ed up. I f$#&ked up. I f%$#ked up.” he repeated, “I was mad ‘an scared. I did dumb s%$#t. Dragged Ned into it. He was smart, coulda done somethang with his life. I shoulda got my act together… coulda bought the house back, gotten custody of Abby an’ Joe.” Stanton muttered as he sat back up and reached for his bourbon. Opening his eyes he realized he was illuminated. He snarled and whirled around, pointing his gun at a groundskeeper who was equal parts terrified and baffled.
Stanton blasted the lantern in the groundskeeper’s hand. The man opened his mouth to scream but Stanton closed the distance and tackled him, muffling the shriek. He starred into the horrified custodian’s eyes while jamming his still hot rifle barrel into the man’s belly. The pain refocused the steward.
“Now Imma take my hand off yer mouth and iffin’ ya yelp Imma give ya a real reason to holler. Got it?” hissed Stanton. The groundskeeper nodded.
Stanton stood up and pulled the man to his feet.
“Ya in charge of watchin’ this place?” Stanton hissed.
“Y-y-y-y” the groundskeeper was terrified beyond the capacity for speech but this seemed close enough to an affirmative for Stanton. He reached to his belt and threw a bag of gold at the human’s feet.
“Yer gon’ take real good care of these here graves. Chuck ‘n Bonnie Creed. Gon’ clean em up real nice an’ make sure they got the prettiest Mageroyal ya ever did see on em. An iffin’ ya don’t imma come back round here and blow yer pecker clean off. Got it?” commanded Stanton.
"“Y-y-y-y” stuttered the Groundskeeper again “Yes sir thank ya sir Imma take that gold and f^%$k off sir” Stanton said. The custodian nodded, took the gold, and ran faster than he knew he could out of the graveyard.
Stanton chuckled and turned to the grave, sighing. “I miss ya pa” he said, leaning the half full bottle of whiskey on the tombstone.
He made his way out the graveyard as Sentinel Hill’s alarm bell began to sound. Boy there were going to be mad at that groundskeeper for waking them up over a ghost story - probably accuse him of drinking the booze he’d left. Stanton signaled for Batthew who glided down from the night’s sky. He hopped on and pet his beloved beast longer than usual. He took off and directed Batthew south towards Booty Bay. It’d been an emotional night. He needed to cheer up with gambling and extremely open minded goblin women.