Snippets (Hopefully-Daily Free-Flow RP Bits!)

Jairian peers down at the small woman, and she beams back up at him, showing no sign of fear under the stare from his cold, dead eyes. Somehow, her smile still manages to be cheerful despite coming from a face half-ruined by a web of thick, disfiguring scars.

“Can I interest you in some flowers today, sir?” She gestures to her wares spread out along the courtyard cobblestones. “Freshest blooms in all of Stormwind.”

Maintaining a careful distance from the baskets of displayed blossoms, Jairian shifts with unease as he inspects the selection. A hint of uncertainty echoes in his deep, ethereal voice. “Ah. Yes. I would like to purchase a bouquet for a…” He clears his throat nervously. “…friend. But I…am unfamiliar with what would be suitable in such a flower arrangement.”

The peddler’s eyes crinkle up knowingly, and she blushes slightly, offering a smile once more. “Of course. Well, I’m sure we can come up with something.” She taps her chin thoughtfully as her eyes rove over the flowers bunched neatly in her baskets. “Do you know if they have a favorite flower? Or color?” She looks up at the knight expectantly.

His shoulders slump as he replies. “No, I do not.”

“No matter! Perhaps we can figure it a different way.” She smiles encouragingly. “Have you been to their home? Sometimes I find a good arrangement can be made by coordinating it with their decor.” She giggles softly. “Most people don’t decorate their homes with things they don’t like…so choosing flowers to match is usually a safe bet.”

Jairian ponders this for a moment. “Yes. I have been. Reds and golds seem to be prominent colors…” He trails off, the ghost of a smile fleeting across his face at a passing memory. “I think gold would be especially appropriate.”

The woman makes a small, happy noise in exclamation and clasps her hands together. “Ah! Then you’re in luck. ‘Tis the perfect time of year for reds and golds. If you trust my judgement in the creation, I am happy to put together something in that color palate.” Her smile is shy, yet eager, as she looks to him for approval.

He nods in confirmation. “That would be acceptable.”

“Now it’s just a matter of figuring what size you’d like!” She gestures to a small chalkboard propped against the front of one of the baskets. Printed neatly on it is a list of prices.

He studies the list for a moment, before pointing to the largest bouquet option. “That one, please.” From a satchel that hangs at his side, he removes a leather pouch and proceeds to count out the proper amount of coin. He offers it to her.

“I–I assume you want it delivered?” Holding out a hand to take the offered coins, she winces inwardly, blushing as she remembers the last time she handed living blooms to a knight.

He manages a stiff, apologetic smile. “If it is not too much trouble…”

Returning the coin purse to his satchel, he retrieves a crisply folded note from within and hands it to her. “I would appreciate it if this could be sent with the arrangement. The delivery address is listed on the outside.”

Grasping the note with both hands, she peers at the address. Recognition dawns, and she smiles up at him. “Oh, yes! I am familiar with this part of the city. Delivery shouldn’t be any trouble at all. I can have it there first thing tomorrow morning, and I will be sure your sentiment is delivered as well.”

Jairian offers a small bow to the woman. “Thank you, I appreciate your assistance.”

“A pleasure doing business with you!” She dips into a quick curtsy, and waves to him as she straightens again. “Have a wonderful day!”

Acknowledging her farewell with a curt nod, he turns and strides off, disappearing back into the bustle of Stormwind’s streets.

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Moreta made her way quickly across the servant’s courtyard at the rear of the large townhouse in Stormwind’s uptown. In passing, some of the house staff greeted her with friendly recognition; this was not the first delivery she had made to Lord Tenebrae’s home. She shifted the large bouquet in her arms, smiling down at it as she brushed a hand lightly over the blooms.

The reds really do pair well with the golds, she thought, as she inspected the cascading cluster to be sure that all were fresh and in place. She had chosen a selection of blossoms in rich, deep reds and buttery ivories, with some blushing pinks and autumn golds tucked in here and there. The bundle was gathered up neatly and wrapped with heavy brown shopkeeper’s paper, a bit of stout string tied about it to keep it all together.

As she stepped up to the service entrance, she pulled a small, folded note from her belt pouch and tucked it deftly under the knotted string securing the bouquet before raising a hand to knock. After a moment’s pause, one of the staff opened the door with a brow arched in inquiry. Cheerily offering the flowers with a smile, she announced,

“Delivery for Lord Tenebrae!”

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When the Fourth War came to an end with something of a briefer bang than expected, Captain Englebert Blunderwitz had shrugged and activated one of his many teleport beacons. By coincidence, it happened to be the one that returned him to Rustbolt on the island of Mechagon. He had stayed there for a period, helping out the mechagnomes - now free of the tyranny of the island’s namesake - as they moved back into their city, a place that made Gnomeregan look provincial by comparison.

With the war with the Black Empire more or less over, he had returned to Stormwind, to pay a call on his father, Dr. Wilbert Blunderwitz, at the Cathedral of Light. Yet as he entered Cathedral Square, dominated by a statue of the Lightbringer holding his hammer aloft in triumph, he saw the elder gnome descending the stairs… slowly. He looks like he’s aged a century in just the couple of months since I last saw him, he thought.

As he heard his son approach, Wilbert looked up, smiling. “Hello, Englebert my boy. Your timing is exceptional.”

Englebert’s eyebrows - turned green after the initial release of radiation by the traitor Thermaplugg - rose. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Indeed I am, my son.” Wilbert looked tired, almost worn out to the bone. “To the harbor… one last voyage for me.”

“If you were looking for another supply of that ale we had in the Snug Harbor, I can --”

“No, not that kind of voyage.” The smile was back on his face. “To where it all began - for our people, flesh and machine, and for our dwarven friends. To the mountains of thunder, to the halls of those who made us.”

“Ulduar?” Englebert was baffled. “You’re talking in riddles, Father. Are you alright?”

Wilbert looked at him with strange serenity in his eyes. “I was a medic during the Second War, and in Northrend… in my old age, I found the priesthood, going where the Light needs me. But the Light needs better than my weary bones, Englebert. And whether you believe it or not, you’ve walked the path, fighting for all that is good and true, not just for gnomanity, but for all who live on this world of ours.” He put a hand on his son’s armored shoulder. “And now… it’s time you walked that path without me.”

“What?” Englebert recoiled. “This is a joke, right? You’re yanking my chain.”

Wilbert shook his head. “No joke. I don’t have the strength left to me to deal with another war… certainly not one on the scale we just had. And I wonder if what awaits will be worse.” He sighed. “I can’t go home, and ‘New Tinkertown’ is no substitute. This is the best way I can think of to go out. Where our people’s journey began… so mine will end.”

Englebert was speechless. He had known it was likely he would have to say goodbye, but… he didn’t think it would be now. “Then… let me go with you. At least make sure you get there.”

Wilbert gazed at him for a long moment… then smiled, and nodded.


Two days later, they flew from Valiance Keep, over the battered fortress of Wintergrasp, and into the mountains at the northern tip of the world itself. Finally, they looked out onto the Formation Grounds, the wide-open plazas and terraces of the city of Ulduar.

Englebert could not help but give a low whistle. “They’ve been busy.”

“And patient,” Wilbert added, as they descended the steps. “They have been here for eons, after all. They have all the time in the world to remake what has been broken.” As they reached the bottom, he turned to face his son. “Would that we all did.” He unhooked his heavy libram from his belt, and opened it to the last page he had written in. With a writing apparatus built into his glove - a gizmo Englebert had devised for him - he wrote a short sentence on the page, then put a little powder on it to dry it, before he closed the book and held it out to him. “This is where we must part ways, my son. Take this back with you, to the Cathedral’s library. Perhaps some good will come of it.”

Englebert’s mind rebelled once again. Mimiron’s cogs, this is happening, he thought. It’s… really happening. He held the book in his hand - it had come from these very halls years before, a gift for his father - and stared at the cover, at his hands gripping it, as if it violated some fundamental law of nature. He looked back up at his father. “I…”

Wilbert shook his head once, sharply. “There are no goodbyes for us, Englebert. We will meet again… soon enough. The Light has shown me so.” He reached out and embraced him. “Go now, my son… and live well.”

Wilbert stepped back, crossing the square to the teleport pad connected to the rest of the city. The constructs of the keepers were here, watching, but did nothing to stop him. His hand gripped the hilt of the enchanted spanner he wore at his belt - another gift from Englebert - and turned on the pad. With a smile and a slight nod of his head, he was gone, teleported somewhere inside the city.

Englebert stared for a long moment at the teleport pad, the thought of staying here with his father briefly flashing through his mind… but he reluctantly dismissed it. In silence, the book held in his hands, he made his way back up the stairs and out of the main gate, to where he had landed. Before he took the controls, however, he opened his father’s libram to the last page he had written in. It was only four words.

Light with us, always.

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Randarel, lord of House Vendross, left the Hall of the Guardian in Dalaran in a disgusted rage, and made his way home to Suramar. He had heard of some kind of “mage meeting” here from an overworked vulpera mage working for a “professor”, and he had recognized the “professor” from a prior meeting. He had a lot of time for the blood elf… but hearing savages and uppity humans lecture him?

When he arrived back at his estate overlooking Astravar Harbor, he started slightly to see he had a visitor. “High Priest Zulimbasha.”

“Lord Vendross,” replied Zulimbasha the Collector - high priest of Bwonsamdi, and Randarel’s chief ally in Zandalar - as he nodded in greeting. He was not wearing his usual mask. “Sorry for droppin’ in wit’out notice.”

“Not at all. I think I would like a word with you about this whole mess.” He summarized the discussion he had witnessed, talking about something being awry with the “realm of death”, the rumors he had heard of die-offs… the Ebon Blade “recruiting” new members, and rumors of a resurgence of the Cult of the Damned in Dalaran. He was disgusted at the implication of the undead - Ebon Blade or otherwise - being considered people, and at the reaction some of them had when he mentioned an edict from the Nighthold that would eliminate any Ebon Blade knights operating in Suramar.

Zulimbasha listened in silence. When he finished, the priest sighed. “Much as I don’ like da Ebon Blade violatin’ da balance of t’ings… dey be prob’ly bettah able ta help figure dis mess out.”

Randarel stared at him in shock. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Believe me, mon, I wish I were.”

“So we should turn to them for help while they busy themselves desecrating our dead? Never! Those impudent brats in Dalaran would be singing a different tune if they had to suffer a loved one being turned into a necromantic monster.” He had not heard the human say his son had been so changed.

“Nay, mon, ya be on da right track with dat,” Zulimbasha agreed. “Dey can ‘recruit’ someplace else… I also take da souls - what be left of dem anyway - of any Ebon filth I find rootin’ around in Zandalar, tryin’ ta deny Bwonsamdi his due. But dey be here ta stay for da most part, and dere be ‘recruits’ from both our peoples with dem too. Nothin’ we can do about dat without startin’ another war, and believe me, we don’t be wantin’ dat. Especially not now. Bad enough we already gotta deal with banshee loyalists, we don’t need ta be swellin’ her ranks by havin’ da Ebon Blade turn on us, too.”

“I find it hard to believe that you would not favor a purging of these monsters, Zulimbasha. Their actions violate the balance you advocate. Especially with them raising our dead to fill their ranks.”

“I got a full plate already.” The Collector looked around for a moment, as if looking for eavesdroppers. “Da spirits be goin’ to da Other Side da way dey supposed to, but… Bwonsamdi be silent of late. Not just distant, or feignin’ ignorance. I t’ink he be occupied by… somet’ing. Da crossin’ over of da spirits also feels… sluggish. Like dey be havin’ ta have a nudge ta get ta where dey need ta go.”

Randarel’s eyebrows rose. He recalled what the professor had said about the realm of death, something affecting it. “You think this is related to everything going on?”

“I don’t know,” Zulimbasha admitted. “Me gut says yes. But da gut instinct of one priest don’t be anyt’ing ta go on. Nor da experience of one arcanist of Suramar.” He shook his head. “All we can do now, Randarel, be watchin’ and waitin’. I don’t t’ink we be knowin’ for sure what’s comin’ until it already happens.”

“Not exactly a reassuring thought.”

“No,” the priest agreed. “But ya know I be right.”

Randarel sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I think I will be doing my waiting here for the time being. If I have to deal with those upstarts in Dalaran again, I’ll probably explode.”

No response. Confused, Randarel looked up. Zulimbasha was gone. “So that’s what it feels like.”

((This small snippet took place at the Armistice Ball, but unfortunately real life schedules intervened, and I didn’t have a chance to get it posted until now!))

Carried on the night breeze, the sounds of reverie drifted up to the balcony overlooking the concourse. A lone figure stood at the railing, surveying the milling crowd below.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Lucian turned away from the railing, tensing in surprise as he looked back over his shoulder to search for the owner of the voice. As recognition dawned, he flashed a smile to the newcomer and offered a hand in greeting. “Ah! Mr. DeVerley…what a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here. Enjoying the party?”

The two men shared an amicable handshake, and as they parted, Lucian’s fingers curled around the crisp folded edge of a note pressed into his palm. A look passed between them as the paper vanished, tucked away discreetly into the interior breast pocket of Lucian’s tuxedo jacket.

Without missing a beat, he continued the conversation. “Rhys mentioned that you paid a visit to the Boralus office recently - A pity I missed you. I was away taking some personal time. I trust all is well?"

“I can’t complain.” With a smirk, Fillian shrugged nonchalantly and casually leaned an elbow onto the railing to peer over the edge at the partygoers below.

“Good…” Lucian answered absently as he looked past Fillian to scan the nearly empty balcony. He nodded in greeting to a couple as they strolled past, his eyes following at their backs until they descended the stairs. Once satisfied there would be no further interruptions, he turned to join the other man at the railing.

As he looked out over the party, Lucian lowered his voice to mutter flatly, “Well then, now that the necessary pleasantries are out of the way, tell me…what news do you have?”

Fillian idly tapped a finger against the railing in time with the music that drifted up from the dance floor, allowing the silence between them to hang for a moment as he looked out over the city. His expression sobered as he continued.

“There were some unusual reports picked up at a meeting of ah,…associates of mine…a few weeks ago. Let’s just say-- there have been some disturbing developments in the north. I did some scouting of my own to confirm the truth of the claims before bringing them to you. Everything checks out. You’ll find it all in the letter.”

“Read it as soon as you can…and then burn it.”

Lucian nodded, and regarded the other man approvingly. “Well done, Mr. DeVerley. Once I am satisfied the information is accurate, payment for services rendered will reach your accounts in the usual fashion.”

“Now, for your next assignment. Earlier this evening, I had a lovely conversation with the leader of a performing troupe based in the Eastern Kingdoms. It appears they are looking for new members. With your musical talents, it seems like a natural fit.” A cunning smile spread across Lucian’s face.

“I want you to join.”

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((Keelath and company playing Dungeons & Dragons IC. …don’t ask.))

“Okay, okay, quiet down,” says Keelath. “Uh…it’s dark and you’re all in the same cell. The front of the cell is bars, everything else is stone…a guard walks by.”

“Guard! Guard! I demand a private cell!” says Medi.

“Uh…the guard tells you to be quiet.”

"I keep making a noise. ‘Do you know who I am, guard? I am Magister Flipporth the Ninth, and I demand a private cell!’ "

“I look at my orc.” says Alelsa, also looking at Tyrric, “and see what he wants to do - NOT THAT”

“Do you say that out-loud?” Keelath asks Alelsa.

“Yes.”

Keelath flips a couple pages. "Uh…the guard just laughs at Alelsa, and tells Medi, ‘Sorry, but you’re here because Gaptooth the Black wants you. Ha. Ha.’ "

“Did you literally just read ‘ha ha’ instead of laughing??” says Tyrric. “You’re supposed to do it in a voice!”

"Hey, I’m the DM. What I say goes. The guard says ‘Ha. Ha.’ "

“So the guard actually says, ‘Ha ha’?”

“Yes, the guard actually says, ‘Ha ha’.”

“Well, my orc laughs at him for real!”

“Great. Suddenly the orc is struck dumb by magic. Anyway…what do you do now?”

“I’ll be quite happy to speak to Gaptooth the Black. All I ask is that I get accommodation appropriate to my standing!” says Medi.

“I sigh heavily, and wonder about my choice of partner.” says Alelsa.

“Oh, you’ll be seeing him,” says Keelath. “Ha ha ha. Mu–mwa–moohaha?”

“Great, is this guard a tauren?” says Tyrric.

“You’re struck dumb, remember. So shut up.”

“That’s only in-game!”

Gadgetzan, several years before the Cataclysm

Apparently the slightly harsh accent wasn’t the only strangeness that came from Maxla’s distant Kezan.

“It’s true.” Dust had settled all over her, but Maxla idly ran her thumb over the edge of the token badly dented under the traffic she had bolted into to rescue it from.

“It is!” She added defensively before a skeptical look.

“Look, back home the fishmonger said his sister’s landlord’s cousin saw it happen. Like something seized their soul, the poor fool was handing out belongings right and left. The only thing that spared them,” She brandished the false coin before her, still shiny in the bright desert sunshine as warm as her growing smile. “…was a distraction. A tossaway. For the Uninvited Guest.”

Epky eyed it incredulously. “And you believe some unseen ghost did all that?”

“Do I want to risk it? For either of us? Here.” Maxla placed it into her hand and closed her fingers over it, lingering for a moment. “You keep it safe for us, yeah? And I’ll be back in a tick. I promise.”

As she dashed up the street, Epky wondered over the sound of her heartbeat what kind of specter it had to be to possess a kezanite to be generous with their heart too.

((Inspired by the tossaways from “The Uninvited Guest”, from Folk & Fairytales of Azeroth book.))

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((OOC, contrary to Snark’s response below, Storytelling was an enjoyable evening this past week.))

Snark drew out her presonal calendar notebook from her purse and opened it to the following week; she jotted down the time for the next Storytelling in the Legerdemain Lounge. On the Thursday before that, she also made a note to spend the evening developing more suitable stories than those provided this past week.

She snorted. First had been a namby-pamby fairytale. It was well suited for children, but the clientelle of the Lounge were clearly all adults. The tale was at least entertaining, if ridiculous, but had no mercenary lesson for edujoomacation. That Eleya teller was clearly just developing her story telling chops.

And that SONG!! Could you believe it? Snark paused in utter disbelief and reflected on that lovely tune paired with such ridiculous lyrics. They were POOR! She sang about POOR people. Snark was surprised that anyone (and there were a couple of “polite” folks) applauded after the song was finished. “Cog jammit, I forgot to mention to Eleya that she should really burn those lyrics and just start over from scratch.” She quickly jotted a reminder to mention such at the next Storytelling.

Luckily Snark had been able to spin an accounting story of note to placate the too polite crowd, saving the night and poor, freshman storyteller Eleya.

"Hmm, maybe I’ll tell them the story of GoldenBangs and the three Bearons . . . . "

Lost in his thoughts and not feeling particularly comfortable among the party goers, Lord Randarel Vendross headed back to the Nighthold, where the arcanists had erected portals to Shal’Aran, Dalaran, and Orgrimmar. Being back in Suramar for the first time since the Ebon Blade had brought him back, he had felt compelled to return here. But Thalyssra’s guards were less than helpful, especially with the glares they kept giving him. “Lord Erdanel, have you seen him?”

All he received was curt shakes of the head.

Frustrated and angry, Randarel was tempted to take his blade and cut off their heads. As he was about to start screaming the question again, a quiet voice behind him answered. “He’s not here, Randarel.”

Randarel stiffened at the sound of that voice, and turned around. So did the venthyr blade that was following him, a gift given to him by the denizens of Revendreth when he had sided with their covenant. For what reason, only he and they knew. Standing behind him was a slimly built woman with dark hair spilling down to her shoulders, wearing a robe that showed her figure. “Severine. Still slithering about, I see. Did Thalyssra not bother to banish you after what you pulled?”

The Countess Severine, matriarch of House Melanius - an old ally of House Vendross, in the time before the Legion returned - simply shrugged. “I did nothing, Randarel.”

“Exactly. You simply watched and waited, and made your choice to side with the victor.”

Severine inwardly winced at the venom in Randarel’s tone, but maintained a cool composure - fittingly, as she was specialized in frost magics. “Nothing wrong with that. I had a family to protect, too, you know. We couldn’t all charge in spitting oaths of retribution. Alerin charged in like that when he went to fight for Ravencrest. We saw how well that went.” Her husband, Count Alerin, had been a sorcerer pledged to Black Rook Hold during the War of the Ancients and had been killed in the fighting, leaving her alone to raise her twin sons.

“And if Elisande had prevailed and just handed the Eye of Aman’thul to Gul’dan, would you still be singing the same disgusting tune?”

Severine gazed at him evenly. “Are you done spitting hate at me, Randarel, or would you like to understand why you wasted a trip?”

Randarel seethed, but knew she was right. They had worked together quite often in the Nighthold during Suramar’s isolation; she had even confessed at one point that she would have considered marrying him if it had not been for his existing marriage to Elerina. At the thought of her, his eyes glanced at the blade floating behind him. “He’s not here, you said.”

Severine nodded. “He’s been gone for months. Left without a word, but I know why he finally got up the will to do it.”

“And why, pray tell, is that?”

She stepped closer to him, staring directly into his face - they were of about the same height. “To go looking for you.”

Randarel’s eyebrows rose. “Guided by some curiosity about what the afterlife looks like, guided by some sentimental connection to me, or seeking to ‘save my immortal soul’ from my ‘corruption’ by the Ebon Blade?”

Severine shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

“And Telisa?”

“She’s gone, too. She’s been in and out for months, always hanging around that corpse-woman in the pandaren getup.” Randarel knew she was referring to Euphrati Velade, his daughter’s instructor in the monk’s arts. “But I think she went after him. Call it… maternal instinct. Erdanel is even more hotheaded than you are.” Severine looked him over appraisingly. “What in the stars are you wearing, anyway?”

Randarel glanced at his attire; he had decided on a formal venthyr robe to attend the Armistice Ball in the Concourse of Destiny that evening. A party he had not been at for long, all told. A thin smile crossed his face. “Would you like to see where I got it?”

Now it was Severine’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “An invitation, Lord Vendross?”

“Something to that effect, Countess Melanius,” Randarel agreed.

“Hmm. How noble of you.” She stared at him for a long moment… and then grinned. “Why not?”

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Sir Eran Heskin returned to Stormwind late that night, flying straight home from Booty Bay. It was after midnight, and the streets were deserted. All the while, his mind kept going back to what Thelaera had said - it had been a sentiment he had shared once, how he had gone to fight so the young didn’t have to. But there were increasingly lesser and lesser people from his generation left, and he began to wonder if the next war would be fought by children because all the “military age” people were dead, and all the veterans like him were too old and enfeebled.

He snorted at that thought. He was not yet sixty, and was certainly not enfeebled. But he did feel old… if not in body, then in spirit. He had been squired to a knight himself as a boy - Sir Aurelius Moran, who had served King Barathen the Adamant. Eran had been at Aurelius’ side when the Adamant fell against the Gurubashi, all those years back… and Aurelius had brought him before Barathen’s son, King Llane, for his own knighting, just before the First War.

Thinking of his old master made him muse on the whims of fate. Aurelius had gone beyond the Dark Portal with the Sons of Lothar after the Second War, and he hadn’t come back. Back when the Dark Portal reopened and the Alliance sent troops to Outland (though Eran knew not to call it that in Thelaera’s hearing), one of Alleria’s rangers, Araen - who would later join her commander as a void elf - had told him that Aurelius had been assigned at the stronghold in Terokkar Forest. Eran had gone to Terokkar, but by the time he arrived, Aurelius had been mortally wounded while protecting the broken-down refugee caravan on the edge of the Bone Wastes. Aurelius had seen him, spoken his name, and then died. It was a memory that would haunt him - just like a lot of his other thoughts and memories did.

Were it not for that near-fatal wound at Blackrock Spire, Eran would probably have gone with him two decades before… but would he have died there, too?

He walked down the ramp from the gryphon roost, and made his way to the closest canal gate. It was not a straight shot, but he was still fit; the brisk walk did not so much as wind him. When he entered Cathedral Square, he saw a light on in the window of the hole-in-the-wall apartment he had there, which had been home since the massacre (for lack of a better word) at the family homestead in Westfall. It was just like his birth village, Grand Hamlet - or Darkshire, as it was now known… another place that had been important to him, tainted by evil.

He gently opened the door (hard to do in full armor, especially as large as the spaulders were on the kyrian plate he wore), and saw Katerina sitting by the fire with a cup of tea. She looked up at him in some surprise, and rose. “I’d have thought you would go back.” She took the boxed pizza slices Thelaera had given him and set them on the table.

“After sunrise,” Eran confirmed. “But tonight, I will spend here.” He went aside to his “arming corner”, as he called it, and removed the heavy plate, setting it on the rack before pulling on a light robe, also of kyrian design. Of the four covenants he had encountered in the Shadowlands, Bastion had been the one to appeal to his sense of honor and duty, and so he had gravitated to them. “Donal?”

“Asleep upstairs.” Katerina looked at him quietly as he took the chair across from her. “Do you think it will ever be over, Eran?”

That question again. She had first asked it about thirty years earlier, when they were standing on the dock in Southshore after fleeing from Stormwind… and she had asked it about a year ago, walking around Boralus Harbor. It had been rattling around in his mind since that first time, and he had never been able to answer it beyond a “I don’t know”… until now. “Part of me thinks not,” he said finally, and told her about his conversation with Thelaera at the tavern in Booty Bay, about it seemed to be a never-ending cycle. Ever since Mount Hyjal, he realized.

Katerina was silent all throughout. When he finished, she sipped her tea again, and looked straight at him. “At the risk of wounding your warrior’s pride, Eran… if it’s all so bleak, what’s the point?”

“One might think that,” he conceded, “but we have never been a lay-down-and-die kind of people, Kat. That militia captain from Gnomeregan basically says that ‘life sucks, but we don’t need to be so glum about it’. I take a page from his book. Sometimes a couple.” He sighed. “It’s hard, though. When even death feels rigged…”

Katerina looked at him grimly. “Have you seen him out there?”

Eran knew exactly who she meant. “No. And I pray to the Light I don’t. But… I’ve had a feeling that he’s out there somewhere. And probably in Zovaal’s service. It’s part of the reason why I’ve always had Donal stay in Oribos, or in Elysian Hold, whenever I had to go into the Maw. The fact that he had to kill his own father…” He shivered slightly. “That, and I think that even he - strong as he tries to be - would be driven to horror in a place like that. Light knows I fight that feeling every time.” He gazed into the fire for a moment. “I wonder if he’s seen enough… and just hasn’t told me.”

“She did tell you to try and talk it out of him, if need be.”

Eran had a thoughtful look. “Talk it out of him… or talk him out of it?” At Katerina’s unspoken question, he continued, “Something else she said, about letting kids be kids. We pick up the squires young… I was nine when Aurelius took me in, slightly younger than Donal when he began with me. And this is partly my fault, in a way. All those tales from the wars, about Lothar, and Uther, and Khadgar and his friends…”

“And about you,” Katerina pointed out. “He enjoys hearing about the Alliance’s great heroes, yes, but what he really likes is the fact that you’re in the same company they are.”

Eran snorted. “Nonsense. I’m simply an old warrior too stubborn to quit.” He nearly said ‘too stubborn to die’, but he didn’t want to tempt fate. As it was, thinking about that phrase was temptation enough. “There are a lot of knights like me. I’m no hero.”

“You are to Donal,” she pointed out. “You have seen more in your lifetime than most people have been able to live in this day and age. Don’t be selling yourself short under my roof, mister, or you can sleep on the floor tonight.”

“Yes, dear,” Eran replied obediently, earning a quiet chuckle from his wife. He sighed contently and laid his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to go back in the morning… but it was like every other time.

He had been called, and he had to answer.

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Dalaran, main library

“…this is our non magical section, we allow the public to access any tomes from these floors.”

Riksuo was torn between the desire to gaze around wide eyed, and taking notes on everything. There were more books than the vulpera had ever seen before in her life. And becoming an apprentice librarian at the Library of Dalaran…was for her the best thing EVER. “I thought there would be more magical texts?”

The Magister smiled “there are thirty seven floors of those. But not every problem requires an arcane solution. Not to mention things like books on history, cooking, even fiction, though here lately it’s been mostly cheap goblin ‘romance’ novels.” The Sin’dorei mage shrugged his shoulders “but then escapism during troubled times has always been an outlet for many.”

“I see” her tail swished from under the hem of her robes as she pushed her floppy hat up a bit, it tended to slip and cover her eyes from time to time. “The magical section, is that open to anyone?”

“Anyone who is cleared for that, there are some tomes of course, in the forbidden area that are very limited on who we let access them. Most of Kel’thuzad’s work for example, with the exception of his book of poems about cats.”

Despite herself Riksuo giggled “Cats?”

“He was quite fond of them for some reason.”

She nodded and made some notes as the Magister continued her orientation.

Eregesh Silvergale, archmage of the Kirin Tor, stood silently on the “balcony” of the Heart of the Forest, looking over the now-quiet groves of Ardenweald. After the tale-telling in Dalaran, he had come here to enjoy what sense of peace he could find before it all went to hell. Again.

A new Arbiter was installed, the torrent of souls going to the Maw had ceased, and they would likely never see the banshee witch again. After Northrend, Eregesh had harbored suspicions about the Forsaken in general and their queen in particular. Teldrassil had only reinforced it. But now the Forsaken were left to find their own way without her, and she would spend eternity trying to clean up her mess.

Nothing is ever that simple, he mused.

Of late, he had been experiencing… dreams? Nightmares? Visions? He was not certain. But one thing was sure: The war for the Shadowlands was over, and so he, and others like him, would be going back to Azeroth. There was much work to be done there… and it was best to take advantage of it now, with the armistice holding.

“Excuse me, sir.” He looked up to see one of the sylvar guards. “There is a short green-skin wearing kyrian garb who has asked to see you.”

He had no doubt who that was. “Thank you, my friend.” The sylvar nodded and returned to her rounds.

Eregesh too was dressed for the environment, the shoulders on his fae robes reminding him almost of wings. Then again, it didn’t need much to imagine, he thought with a smile as he descended the ramp into what some jokingly called “the Heart’s heart” and then to the entrance. There she was, peering up over her spectacles at him. “Kelty. Still lingering after the recent events?” He had witnessed the flight of the new spirit, which made his own heart soar.

“Nah, just happened to hear you’d come back this way.” Kelty Sparkleblast looked him over. “Startin’ to go native?”

Eregesh chuckled. “Speak for yourself.”

“Eh, point taken.” She looked around as they walked down away from the Heart. “Is this really all there is to dyin’? Forests, togas, skeletons and vampires?”

“I doubt it. I think this is only what we were meant to see. The only parts that mattered to us, coming to stop Sylvanas and her patron. Some mysteries are not meant to be known by the living, my old student.”

“I think there’re a lotta mysteries I coulda done without,” Kelty replied with a snort. “It gives me a headache just thinkin’ about it all.”

“Agreed, but if fate is kind, it’s nice to know what we have to look forward to.” He looked back, thinking on one denizen in particular. “Even people like me.”

Kelty raised an eyebrow at that. “Whadaya mean?”

“You’ve heard all the rumors about me, I’m assuming.”

“All the drunk gossip? Heh. I stopped listenin’ to that crap a long time ago.” She looked up to see a little dragon whelp circling quick around her old teacher’s head - Rianagosa, an orphan of the Nexus War that Eregesh had adopted back in Northrend. She had almost never left his side since.

Eregesh looked at his ward curiously. “Should I, little niece?” he said.

That word got Kelty’s attention. “Niece?”

The outwardly high elf mage nodded. “I’ve debated whether or not I should reveal my true self. You of all people, my friend, deserve that much.” He grinned. “You… might want to stand back.” He grasped his staff and tapped it hard into the earth. All at once, his shape and shadow over the goblin became much larger. The dragon horns that adorned the staff also adorned the narrow head that now dipped down to eye-level with her.

Kelty’s eyes went as wide as hen’s eggs. “I… wha… you… but…” Then she did something she hadn’t done in ages. She fainted on the spot.

“That went well,” mused Esheregos.

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Lord Randarel Vendross stood with his head bowed over the body of his only son, Erdanel. His comrades in the Ebon Blade, Nyssha Swiftblade and Laneth Sorrowspear, had told him of what they uncovered after they had left Zereth Mortis, how he had been found dead in a Maw-forged cage in the Stoker of Hate’s corner of insanity deep inside Torghast. They had brought his body to Oribos, where his spirit now awaited the judgment of the Arbiter… now that there was an Arbiter.

The Jailer was dead. Balance had been restored to the Shadowlands. Sylvanas would remain in the Maw, cleaning up her mess. It was time to return to Azeroth… to an uncertain future. Randarel had not really had enough time to process things when he had gone through the rift with the Ebon Blade. Now that the war was over, he did. He knew he could not go back to living in Suramar, since he wasn’t technically living. And with Erdanel gone, Telisa was the Lady of House Vendross - and the last of House Vendross, on top of that… which would mean if it were to go on, she would have to marry.

“Fate has not been kind to you, Randarel.” He turned at that voice. It was Inquisitor Drastiya, one of the Accuser’s judges. It had been she who had met him when he pledged to Revendreth at the beginning of the conflict, and shown him the living blade that contained his wife’s spirit. “Not the way you expected to meet him again?”

Randarel was silent for a long moment, looking down at his son’s face. “I don’t know what I expected, Drastiya. I don’t even know why he came here. Telisa doesn’t either. She said only that he was seeking me out. He never said why.” His hand gently rested on Erdanel’s cheek. “Perhaps it’s best I don’t know.” He sighed, looking up and around Oribos’ sky. With the victory in Zereth Mortis, the Maw had receded around the city, and the sky had cleared. “His mortal remains will go to Tel’anor, to rest with his mother and ancestors. As for his spirit… I wonder where he will go?”

“To us, in all likelihood, given what you’ve told me of him,” Drastiya said thoughtfully. “Rage, hate, recklessness, obsession… if he doesn’t end up in Maldraxxus fighting in the arena, those are traits that usually brings a soul to Revendreth.” The venthyr inquisitor smiled thinly. “At least you know he will be in good hands.”

Despite himself, Randarel laughed. “Perhaps.” He turned to look at her, curious. “What brings you here?”

“I hesitate to ask this of you at this time, but… though she has gone with you on the rare occasions you have returned to Azeroth, I’m afraid that if you are leaving for good, Lerinel must return with me to Sinfall.”

Randarel’s eyes closed. “I was afraid of that…”

The inquisitor raised a warning finger. “Given what I just said about obsession, you would do well to remember it. It is the same spirit you know… but not the same form. Her place is here in the Shadowlands now, in the service of Revendreth. That is how it was judged, and that is what she accepted.” The smile returned. “Worry not, Randarel. When it is your time to come here to stay, you will know where she is. And I think you will be joining us in Revendreth as well. You ‘Nightborne’ are very much like us.”

“Probably what drew us to you in the first place.” Both turned at that voice - a Nightborne in a venthyr robe, carrying a Nighthold arcanist’s staff. Randarel had been a potential suitor, once upon a time. She bowed, her expression and words formal. “Apologies for interrupting. I thought you might like to know, Lord Vendross, that the Lady Telisa has returned safely to Suramar. I saw to it myself.”

Randarel was surprised, and admittedly touched, at the offer, given the venomous words he had hurled at her in Suramar some while back. “Thank you, Countess Melanius,” he replied with a bow of his head. “I am glad to hear it.” Turning to the floating blade that had followed him since he had arrived in Revendreth, he raised a hand, gently running his fingers down the length of the blade… and then finally, he nodded.

“Goodbye is not forever, Randarel,” Drastiya said, as she held out her hand. The blade floated hilt first into it, and she sheathed it on her back. “As I said… when the time comes, you know the way will be open.” She bowed to the two Nightborne.

“Farewell, Drastiya,” Randarel replied, as he bowed back. “May we meet again someday.”

The smile again. “I look forward to it.” Then, in a burst of anima, the inquisitor was gone.

Countess Severine Melanius’ gaze lingered where she had stood, then turned back to Randarel. “Perhaps it is time we return to Suramar as well.”

“Yes,” Randarel agreed. “But not to stay. Telisa is House Vendross now. My time is done… and Erdanel’s was too short.”

Severine nodded. “And I know both you and she are thinking of the future.” Randarel knew what she was thinking. She had borne twin sons, Ademar and Andris, with her husband, Count Alerin; he had been killed fighting for Lord Ravencrest during the War of the Ancients, when the boys were infants. Ademar was married, if he remembered rightly, and now had children of his own, but Andris… “If it couldn’t be you and I, perhaps our children will be the match we were looking for.” But before he could answer, she raised a hand to silence him. “Later, however. For now, though we know your son’s spirit is here,” and she raised her hands to indicate their surroundings, “there is still a ritual to be observed.”

Randarel stared at her in some surprise. He had somewhat sarcastically invited her to join him here after the Armistice Ball in Suramar, and the effort seemed to have transformed her. He wondered idly what her experience had been out here. “Yes,” he said finally. “And after… let’s talk.”

Lorewalker Zhangren Puretide stood at the edge of Elysian Hold, looking over the fields of Bastion, savoring the sight of a land at peace, and a people at peace with themselves - at least, so he hoped.

“The place kind of grows on you, doesn’t it?” Zhangren knew without turning who that voice belonged to, even as the dark armored, Ebon Blade-tabarded figure stepped up next to him.

“It does indeed, brother,” Zhangren agreed. “It seems very familiar.”

“Kun-Lai,” mused his brother Zhaoren Deathtide, Knight of the Ebon Blade. “No mountains, but… the steppes outside of our village.” He was silent for a moment, his scarred face and glowing eyes staring across the landscape. “Do you think Mother is out there somewhere?”

Zhangren now turned to look at his elder brother. “Out in Bastion?”

“Out in the Shadowlands. Somewhere. I know Father was bound to the Wandering Isle after you brought him there.” Zhaoren looked thoughtful. “She probably would have ended up here, I think. Always thought of others before herself.”

Zhangren pondered this. “Probably,” he agreed. “And with one of their own now the Arbiter, compassion would certainly be a good fit for this place.”

“I wonder what our parents would have thought of all this. And about us. Me, particularly.” Then Zhaoren smiled. “Mother would probably have taken it in stride, but Father… his reaction would have been much like yours. At first.”

Zhangren had the decency to look abashed. He had thought his brother’s resurrection into the Ebon Blade as a violation. If he was honest, he still did. But deep down, even with the dark powers he wielded, Zhaoren was still Zhaoren. It was a lesson that Zhangren had actually got from his own student, Ord’taeril Ketiron - proving that even teachers could be taught. Who the death knights were had not changed, they were just… more. Ord’taeril had chosen to believe that, given that his father, Taeril’hane, had been one of them… and he thought of his father as a man of honor.

So Zhangren did with Zhaoren, and when they had both pledged to Bastion, he saw that Ord’taeril was right. Zhaoren still acted with a sense of duty, just as he had in life.

“What do you think, little brother?” Zhaoren asked, interrupting his wandering thoughts. “Will we end up here when our time is done?”

Zhangren pondered this for a moment. “I certainly hope so,” he said finally. “But given what has occurred since we arrived, with the balance restored in Oribos… I have no doubt that when it is our time, we will go where we need to be.” He grinned slightly. “There will always be a place for stories, even among the dead.”

Walking alone across Cathedral Square, Sir Eran Heskin looked up to see his wife talking to their grandson outside their hole-in-the-wall home. When she looked up and saw him, her eyes went wide in shock. Donal had not told her anything, saying only that he would arrive shortly. Eran had stayed back for a moment, debating whether he should hide his form or show what he had become.

He decided on the latter. Katerina descended the ramp down to the square, looking up at him, as he was now considerably taller in his new form. “…Eran?”

“Hello, Kat.” His voice was deeper in this form, but easily recognizable. “I take it he didn’t tell you.”

“He told me you had something… important to say.” She hesitantly raised her hand, touching the snow-white fur of his lupine face. “What happened?”

He sat down on a nearby bench under the eye of the Lightbringer - and having seen him in his new form in Bastion, it felt somewhat strange - and told her everything. About the Mawsworn monster that Taran had become, and how he had sought Eran and his comrades out. About Lucia Zherron, how she had been mortally wounded, and used her last act to save his life by infusing him with the strength of the worgen. About how he had destroyed his Mawsworn son, consigning his anima to oblivion. About how Eidan, Lucia’s father, had appeared to him, a spirit from Ardenweald who had guided his daughter to the destiny she had known when she arrived. About Lucia becoming a fae spirit herself, and flying from the Heart of the Forest to embrace her eternal home.

Katerina was silent all throughout; Donal had gone inside the house and was settling down in bed. When he was done, she gently put a hand on his armored gauntlet, and asked, “What now?”

“Now I am home to stay,” Eran replied. “At least until I am called again. I have spent enough time in the company of Death, and now return to the realm of life… as ever in the service of the Alliance.” He paused. “If not necessarily of the King. Anduin has not returned; I think he seeks to rediscover himself now, given what he was compelled to do by the Jailer. He has officially left Turalyon as regent for the duration. How long that duration is will be up to Anduin.” I pray it is not long, he thought; most paladins were zealots in their own way, but Turalyon was now a far different man from the one who had been the Alliance’s supreme commander before the expedition to Draenor. He was almost as blind in his faith as the lunatics in the Scarlet Crusade.

Katerina knew how he thought, and asked, “Will this mean another war with the Horde?”

“I hope not,” he replied. “But it would not surprise me.” Then he smiled. “For now, however… I will enjoy the quiet while I can. I think we have earned that.” His smile faded as he looked up at the house, thinking on his grandson. “I think we all have earned a little time to make peace with what we have done… and what may lie ahead.”

Zulimbasha the Collector walked quietly through the halls of Oribos, on his way to the portal back to Orgrimmar, and from there to Zandalar. He was at peace with himself, his faith reassured after having witnessed what had gone on in the Shadowlands, and the part that Bwonsamdi had played (even if the Winter Queen had not been quite as… appreciative as one might hope) in its conclusion. In the end, his patron Loa didn’t need to rule the Shadowlands. He protected the souls of his chosen people from monsters like Zovaal and Mueh’zala. That was enough for Zulimbasha. Now, like so many others, he was going home.

He walked towards the viewpoint where the Ebon Blade kept open the portals to Orgrimmar and Stormwind. The war had forced him to reassess his opinion of them as well. Nyssha and Randarel, particularly, had fought with honor, ensuring that - even though they were on borrowed time, as Nyssha had put it - the patterns of life and death that people (mostly) accepted flowed as they should. Even corrupted as they were, the good people they had been in life (or in the case of Nyssha, the good people they had become in death) still showed. Lorewalker Puretide had had a similar revelation about his brother.

His foot came across a metal object lying on the “street” as he approached the portal, and he looked down. A silvery necklace of master craftsmanship lay on the ground, adorned with intricate patterns. A bright blue stone shined in the center, and as he stooped to pick it up, he could feel it radiate immense cold. It was the very same necklace worn by Nyssha… and he knew (because he had asked, after the service in Ardenweald) she had never taken it off since she received it from her old mentor, General Varan Metheius.

Which begged the question: why was it here now? Looking around the corner and along the walls running on the outside of the cylindrical city, his eyes narrowed as he spotted a pile of dark plate armor, with skulls on the shoulderguards, on one of the brokers’ carts. A folded tabard of black with blue markings lay next to it, atop of which were a pair of runeblades encased in diamond-hard ice. They were what Nyssha had returned to wearing when she prepared to go home to Azeroth.

Could it be, now of all times? Zulimbasha wondered. But where could she have gone?

“Maldraxxus,” came a voice behind him. It was one of the city’s caretakers, now looking rather more… well, purposeful (pun intended) now that there was an Arbiter in Oribos again. “The Purpose has revealed her way.”

Zulimbasha’s skull-masked head tilted. And then he turned around and walked back inside, to the teleporter up to the Ring of Transference.


Survivors of Lordaeron often thought that Maldraxxus reminded them of the Plaguelands, and the Maldraxxi themselves of the Scourge. Having been through Lordaeron on his way to Quel’Thalas on a couple of occasions, Zulimbasha could see why they would think that. The similarities were striking.

The anima-wyrm deposited him at the Theater of Pain, and he called on the ethereal energies from his soul-brazier shoulderguards to summon his spectral pterrodax, flying to the courtyard of the Seat of the Primus. As he had allied with Ardenweald rather than Maldraxxus, he was not permitted to enter the Seat itself, but perhaps… he landed outside the entrance and approached one of the burly Maldraxxi guards. “Beggin’ ya pardon, mon, but be dere a new soul here just arrived from Oribos? She been wearin’ dis in life.” He held up the pendant.

“I think I can answer that question for you, death-priest.” Looking up at the doorway, he saw a Maldraxxi necromancer in a rich red robe, a ceremonial blade and a spellbook hooked to his belt. Unlike most of his lot, he had white hair running from under his ornate hood, down his shoulders. Next to him walked Nyssha, who was again wearing her Maldraxxi bone-plate armor, a pair of matching blades at each hip. “It seems the Arbiter has seen her truth, and shown her where she needs to be - just as the last one had done for me.”

“Whadaya mean? She seems ta be --” Then he stopped, remembering something. There was another, a great warrior of the Light in life, who had been sent here as well… and he had also kept his original form. He looked at Nyssha more closely. “Ya be dead, don’t ya?”

Nyssha nodded, a sad smile on her withered face. “You found what was left, I take it. It seems my borrowed time picked right then and there to run out, just as I was headed home. Dust in the cosmic wind.” She held out her hand for the necklace, which the Collector handed to her. “Varan gave this to me after Light’s Hope. I fought alongside him in Northrend, even after he returned to the Forsaken.” She chuckled. “He’s probably somewhere out there too, and probably silent whether he has a jaw or not.”

“Ya don’t think he went mad, like Taran Heskin?”

The necromancer shook his head. “Loyal as he may have been to Sylvanas in the mortal world, I doubt he would have followed her way, or that of her puppet-master, here. Varan had… interesting loyalties.”

“Much like you, Artimus,” Nyssha pointed out with a smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t keep your looks when you ended up here.”

“The hair was the only concession,” Baron Artimus Devaneaux - who still used his old in-life title, even though that was typically associated with the lieutenants to a House’s margrave here - replied with a thin chuckle.

“He had been decent at raising armies of ghouls and such on Azeroth, but he had flourished when he had arrived in Maldraxxus,” Nyssha explained for Zulimbasha’s benefit. “He thought he had found a place in the House of Rituals… that was, until Kel’Thuzad arrived and began to usurp Margrave Sin’dane. Artimus ended up in Torghast, in a private little corner run by that ‘friend’ of ours we ran into in Zereth Mortis.”

“Got caught during one of Margrave Draka’s assaults in the Maw,” Artimus said sheepishly. “My own damn fault.”

Zulimbasha was taking this all in, but looked back at Nyssha. “What’s dis mean for ya Ebon Blade comrades? They all gonna turn ta dust tryin’ ta go back ta Azeroth?”

Nyssha shook her head. “Probably not. I’ve had this… feeling in my bones ever since I arrived here with that first wave from Icecrown that this was a one-way trip. All this fighting… I’ve fought for nearly my entire life. Fought to stay alive as a child, fought for the Defias when I grew up, fought for Saavedro and for SI:7… fought for Arthas, then for the Ebon Blade, then for Bolvar, and then for Maldraxxus. I think my body finally decided it was time to give up the ghost.” She snorted a bit with laughter. “Literally, as it turns out.” She put the necklace back on around her neck, as a sheen of ice covered over her for a moment, and then faded. “But I thank you for this. I must admit I was not expecting you to find it. I thought it might have been Eran.”

“Sir Eran and da boy be gone, I believe, back ta Stormwind. Hopefully da wife be keepin him on --” Zulimbasha stopped himself from finishing that sentence, as he realized it was something of a dog joke.

So did Nyssha, who laughed. “The fact that you seem comfortable enough with us to joke, even after all that went on back on Azeroth… it’s a good sign, I think.” She held out her hand. “Goodbye, High Priest Zulimbasha. May Bwonsamdi see you through to the Other Side in your time.”

Zulimbasha took the outstretched hand, bowing his head. “Farewell, Nyssha Swiftblade. Celebrate ya victories, and learn from ya defeats.”

“On that topic, I think it’s high time to head to the arena,” Artimus said, a thought occuring to him, inclining his head in farewell to Zulimbasha as they headed to ride flayedwings to the Theater of Pain. “There is someone I’d like you to meet.”

“I have a fairly good idea. Thin, tall lad, white hair, bony joints, wearing Scarlet Crusade armor?”

“How did you know?”

“Saw him in Oribos. Who else but a Devaneaux would wear Scarlet regalia in death?”

Dry laughter. “Fair point.”

Zulimbasha stood for a moment, shaking his head, and also started to laugh. Then he activated his hearthstone, set to take him back to Zuldazar. It would be good to see home again. But he would not forget what he had seen on the Other Side - or elsewhere in the Shadowlands, for that matter - until it was his time to come back here.

…whenever that might be.

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He was about to head back to Azeroth - to do what, I haven’t a bloody clue, he mused - when the stone fiend caught up to him, with an urgent message to return to Revendreth. He landed in Pridefall Hamlet, where one of the Accuser’s judges was waiting for him. She folded her arms across her chest, staring evenly at him. “You took your sweet time, demon hunter.”

“Much as I always love to banter with you, I was on my way back to a place that makes a greater modicum of sense to me,” he replied with a slight sneer. “What do you want?”

"Ah, typical impatience, believing you have better things to do. Your arrogance has not changed a whit since coming here, it seems. To think that the Nightborne noble had more humility than you do… " She snorted. “You’ve learned nothing, Teren Skyfire.”

His teeth ground together. “That is not my name anymore.”

“Hide from your past all you like, you will not escape it. Your sinstone is added to with every breath you take. I look forward to putting you in your place when you arrive here.”

“Then you can wait for all eternity, Drastiya, as I will never be setting foot in this place again.”

Inquisitor Drastiya grinned wickedly. “That’s the beauty of it, ‘Poquelin’. I have all eternity to wait. You, on the other hand…”

“Get to the point, damn you,” Poquelin the Accursed snarled.

“Very well,” Drastiya replied, all traces of mockery gone. “There is a new soul who has just arrived here, rescued from the Maw by the Knights of the Ebon Blade. He has specifically asked to meet with you.”

Poquelin’s horned head tilted, his haughty expression replaced by one of curiosity. “Me? Whatever for?”

“He didn’t elaborate much. Evidently his friends and family thought he had been here already… but other than his son, he specifically wanted to speak to you. Something about ‘putting things to rest’.” She gazed levelly at him. “You’ve been to the Maw. You saw what a horror that was, even with your altered sight. Do you think even your worst enemies would have deserved that?”

Poquelin had to admit she had a point, and shook his head. “No.” What he had witnessed in the Maw - more felt than anything else - was beyond his most terrible nightmares. Oblivion would have been a far greater release. He mused on this for a moment, then finally decided to see what this was about. “By all means, lead on.”

Drastiya led him to a nearby gazebo, where Poquelin was astonished to find himself standing across from someone he never would have thought he would see again. He was in a ghostly form; the ren’dorei standing next to him in purple and gold, a grayish-blue pandaren rank cord around his waist, was not. He began to laugh quietly, shaking his head. “Of all the people I had expected, I never once thought it would be you.”

“Whyever not? It was your hatred for me that eventually led you to where you are now, Teren.”

Poquelin did not bother to correct him. “You flatter yourself.”

“Hardly. You made your ambitions clear enough to Kel’theris, and to me. When he made me the head of the House Guard when your sister died, you chose exile because it was not you, and deprived us of a good man in the wars to come.”

Fury boiled in Poquelin’s blood. “Everything that you have should have been mine, Taeril’hane, and you know it. House Skyfire had served at the right hand of House Whitehair long before your family crawled its way through the ranks.”

Fury took hold in the ghostly visage of Taeril’hane Ketiron. “I’m dead, you idiot!” he shouted. “I don’t ‘have’ anything anymore! House Ketiron, House Whitehair, House Skyfire… nothing remains but ruins and ashes! You really think if you had stood in my place, it would have made a damn bit of difference?” His tone lowered, but the pain was evident in his voice. “You think it would have been any better for you, had you gotten everything you wanted? If fate had been reversed, and you had become Kel’theris’ commander instead of me, and married Areinnye… do you really think you would not be here now, in my place, awaiting penance? Do you think you could have saved Areinnye from death, or kept your own child from being transformed by the Void and banished as a ‘threat’ to the Sunwell? As much joy as I have to see that my son is well, I would never wish such a painful journey on anyone. Not even you, Teren.”

Poquelin clenched his fists at his sides. “Why did you bring me here, Taeril’hane? I know why he’s here,” and he gestured to the silent ren’dorei. “But why me? I’ve made no secret of what I think of you. And you hate me. You always have. You used that hatred and turned my own sister against me. So why this sudden reconciliation?”

“I do not hate you, Teren,” Ketiron replied. “And I did nothing of the kind. Kaleris worried that you were more concerned about the power of the position rather than the responsibility, even as our land was going to hell around us. You were a better warrior than I, Teren, but you let your pride go to your head. Because House Skyfire had always been House Whitehair’s protectors, and you and Kaleris were all that remained, you expected to receive it automatically when Kaleris died, and you made sure we all knew it. And Kaleris could see that. She warned Kel’theris before she fell. I never knew that until I raised the question to him of why me instead of you; I had expected you would get it from the start. ‘Because you don’t want it at all,’ he told me, ‘and he wants it too much.’”

An expression of disbelief crossed Poquelin’s face. “You didn’t want it?”

“I was content to be Kaleris’ lieutenant, Teren. But Kel’theris suspected I would not have been content to be yours. You always looked down on me, and all of us in the Guard. Again, because it had always been that way, the Skyfires were the commanders… and you expected it would not change, even with our king dead and our land in ruin. You were the only one left, after all. Kel’theris saw differently, and so he chose me. Marrying his granddaughter, taking over his House, was never in my mind.”

Poquelin’s jaw dropped a fraction. “Not once?”

“Not ever. But you? You would never have served as second to anyone, certainly not me. Such rewards would have been expected if you had taken my place. And you would be dead, and probably right here, suffering under the weight of your pride. Far more than I, and I have my share of it.”

“And in this scenario, what would your fate have been?”

Ketiron smiled sadly. “Probably right here with you, because I would have been duty-bound to be at your side.”

Poquelin’s mind raced. He didn’t know what to say to that… and he found he believed what he heard. Ketiron was dead, after all; what reason would he have to lie? Especially here?

“I have been burdened by this for more than a decade,” Ketiron continued. “Ord’taeril had seen you here before, and knew you had returned. He told me, and I asked Inquisitor Drastiya to send for you.”

“I ask again: Why me?”

“Because now that I’m here, and not rotting in a cell in Torghast, I want to lift that burden. I did not want this to become what it did. And I do not want to await my future here without having explained myself to you, now that we are not locked in mortal combat or fighting to save our future again.” He bowed his head. “Whatever wrongs you did me and mine, I forgive you for them. I do not expect you will do the same for me, but… perhaps in time.”

For the first time he could remember, Poquelin was absolutely dumbfounded. He had heard the same rumor as Ord’taeril had, which had been part of his motivation to come here in the first place - to watch his old enemy languish in torment. But what he had endured was worse, and what he had said to Drastiya about no one deserving a fate like the Maw, he had meant it. The fact that Ketiron’s spirit had survived… and yet this was how he thought about it all? This was not what he had expected at all.

“Perhaps,” he said after a long moment.

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Zhaoren Deathtide stood outside the entrance to Mogu’shan Palace in the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, a place slowly getting back on its feet after the devastation caused first by the Sha of Pride, and then again by N’Zoth. His eyes were shaded from the afternoon sun by his Shado-Pan headgear as he looked upwards… and then pointed. “He is here.”

Having favored dark armor throughout most of the campaign in the Shadowlands, Zhaoren now wore armor of deep blue shot through with gold, and crackling with energy - the result of the lightning steel used in its crafting. Working in Bastion had ultimately inspired him to “lighten” his armor somewhat, though he still kept the dark Ebon Blade tabard. Held up against one shoulder was the Titanforged scythe given to him by his old mentor, Sir Galen Tavener, but first wielded by the father of the man they were waiting for. Next to him stood his brother, Lorewalker Zhangren Puretide, who stuck with his simple leather with his Lorewalker tabard and his serpent-headed staff.

Landing in front of them, riding what looked to Zhaoren for all the world like a tiger made of water, was a tall, lean elf (Was there any other kind? Zhaoren wondered) that, if he had not seen the slight violet tinge to his skin and the void tentacles in his hair, he would have mistaken for a blood elf. He certainly wore the right colors, though he recognized the style as being favored more by the venthyr than the blood elves.

“Welcome, Ord’taeril,” Zhangren greeted him, a warm smile on his face. “You have been busy.”

“Your example has rubbed off on me more than I realized, Master,” Ord’taeril Ketiron replied with a bow and a smile of his own. “I had been a battlefield healer when I was in the Army of the Light, so I took that up again during this recent conflict. The work involved certainly prepared me for… what came next.”

Zhaoren nodded grimly. “I was with Laneth during that search. It was not pleasant, I will tell you. Nothing was, about Torghast… or the Maw as a whole, for that matter.”

“He is where he needs to be now,” Ord’taeril said, his expression sobering. “As for me… I confess to wondering why you called me here. It sounded urgent.”

“Nothing so earth-shattering as you may think, but…” Zhangren looked out across the Vale for a moment, and sighed. “Ever since outsiders arrived in Pandaria, our lives have been turned upside down, in so many ways. We had to contend with the Sha and Garrosh… and then pursue other monsters across space and time. I have seen more of this world than I ever expected to in my lifetime, and more besides.” He glanced at Zhaoren. “We are the last of our line, just as you are of yours, Ord’taeril. And I had a chance meeting in Oribos that may change that. You remember Lazhna Trueflight at all?”

“Of course. She was in my father’s guard back when he maintained the garrison on Draenor.” Ord’taeril smiled thinly. “You mean…?”

Zhangren chuckled. “Not quite. Her daughter, Chaiya.”

Ord’taeril blinked. “I never knew she had a daughter.”

“She’s from the Wandering Isle, her father is a farmer from Dai-Lo. She is just making her way out into the world, the wanderer’s blood taking hold in her as it did with her mother. She’s apprenticed to Archmage Sparkleblast of the Kirin Tor. Having a mage in the family could be… interesting, to put it mildly.” Zhangren’s smile took on a sad tinge. “Which means that my wandering days are done for the time being.”

Ord’taeril’s mouth dropped open for a moment. Next to him, Zhaoren also looked surprised. “You’re retiring?” the death knight asked.

“Not from the Lorewalkers, but… we’ve been to the land of the dead together, Zhaoren, and before that, we’ve witnessed wars of all kinds… some that could well have been avoided. I have seen enough for one lifetime, and I have so much to chronicle now. The research the archmage and I did on the ‘ciphers’ in Zereth Mortis, for a start.” Zhangren put a hand on his brother’s shoulderguard; the lightning did not seem to harm him at all. “I will still be here, brother. And perhaps in the near future, with a cub or two. Mother would have appreciated that.”

Zhaoren considered this… and nodded, a slight grin on his scarred face. “She certainly got on us for not giving her any grandchildren.”

“Indeed.” Zhangren turned now to Ord’taeril. “Which brings us to you, my student. Though that word is too small for you now.” He picked up a bundle from the rail on the overlook. It was a folded tabard, bearing the same sigil that he wore on his own. “You’ve learned the ways of the Fist of First Dawn, and found the path you were meant to walk. You have also proven to have the hunger to learn. I think it is time to make it official.”

Ord’taeril was absolutely stunned. “Me? A Lorewalker? But… I’m not pandaren.”

“No, you’re not, and yet you learned our ways without trouble. There is nothing written that says only pandaren can be Lorewalkers.” Zhangren helped place the tabard onto the new Lorewalker, who re-wrapped the rank cord he wore around his waist to take it in. Then he held out his staff to him, the gong swaying between the coils of the Jade Serpent. “You have come such a long way in such a short time, Lorewalker Ketiron… but your journey continues. This has been a great boon to me, in the path that we walk. May it be so also for you.”

Ord’taeril ran a gloved hand reverently along the length of the staff, before taking it with both hands, and stowing it on his back just over his shoulder. With a smile, Zhangren embraced him, careful not to crush him with his weight. Stepping back, he let out a shrill whistle, and his companion, the mystic tiger Zhenzia, appeared beside him. “I return home now, and leave you to your new life.” He bowed formally. “Go in peace, brother Lorewalker, and know that the Jade Serpent guides you always, no matter where you are.”

Ord’taeril returned the bow, as Zhangren stepped into the saddle. Next to him, Zhaoren had summoned his cloud serpent, Zia-Ren - like Zhangren’s steed, also named for his parents, but in the reverse order. Without another word, both brothers flew off. He watched them go, he took up Zhangren’s staff - his staff now, he reminded himself - and held it in both hands, his knuckles whitening under his gloves. He had gone beyond the veil, ensured his father was where he needed to be, made peace with a foe he never truly knew he had (and learning the reasons why), and he had returned home to tell the tale. But while Zhangren had been traumatized by his wanderings (and having seen the same things his mentor had, he could see why) and chosen to go home, Ord’taeril knew that the future had other plans for him. He recalled something the draenei priest Po’gaenus had told him, back when they had met on Argus.

At the end of every journey lies the beginning of another.

As he rode through the streets of Silvermoon, his thoughts turned to death. Hard not to in this day and age.

He was not sure when he had reached the point where life stopped giving and started taking. He mused it probably began when Arthas marched into Quel’Thalas, butchered their people, despoiled their land, and corrupted the Sunwell. It was as good a place as any.

He remembered going to the Magisters’ Terrace to get Nadiya out, what felt like a lifetime ago. Having to survive in a dead land with nothing but what rotting scraps they could find, and with no one but each other. Were it not for a chance encounter with other survivors, they would have died… more fodder for Dar’Khan to use against his own people in the name of the Lich King.

Now she was dead anyway… having been left to languish in the personal torture chambers of a sadistic sack of death-worshipping garbage. The Ebon Blade had found her there, and brought her body back to Oribos… perhaps the new Arbiter had taken in her spirit, too. All he had now of her, of their family, was that hope… and his pledge to serve Silvermoon until death.

As he entered Farstriders’ Square, one of the Blood Knight initiates approached him. “Master Sunblade, the materials you requested await you. Bemarrin has prepared his forge for your use.”

“Thank you, initiate.” He noticed the young man checking out his armor, and smiled. “Return to your training, lad. If you keep at it, you might look like this one day.”

The initiate’s eyes widened. “You think so, Master?”

“Anything is possible. Now off with you.” The initiate bowed and returned to the training yard.

Once the lad was gone, Nor’taeron Sunblade sighed tiredly. Like so many other elves these days, he was the last surviving member of an ancient family, whittled down to nothing by the wars of the past several decades. He had been forced to watch friends die for the past thirty years while he “lived to fight another day”, and while not wishing for death, he couldn’t help but admit to feeling despair. Nadiya had been the latest, and it pained him worse than anything before. He had always been close with his sister, despite their diverging paths in life - he had been a warrior, she a mage - and they had worked together for years, first under House Whitehair (or House Ketiron, as it became), and then again for House Vendross in Suramar.

Pulling his steed up to the smithing area, he dismounted gracefully, before pulling an item from the saddlebag - a broken magister’s staff. It had been Nadiya’s, carried since that fateful day on Quel’Danas all those years ago; it had been the only sign of her he had ever been able to find. The Ebon Blade had traversed the twisting halls of Torghast and found the prisoners, tipped off by an Enlightened broker in Zereth Mortis who had observed the prison warden, the “Stoker of Hate”. Many of them were trapped souls, but some of them had been living… “had” being the operative term. Her body had been brought home for burial, and her soul… only the new Arbiter knew for sure.

Nor’taeron opened the crate left for him at the forge. He nodded to himself, seeing everything in place. He then took his sword from his back, gazing at it for a moment. It had the sigil of the Silver Hand on the hilt, much like the armor he had worn since the Broken Isles, right up to now. It had been golden robes and shining light then. Now his armor was black trimmed with red, as was the tabard he wore. Ashes and blood - the two constants of his life now.

His hand gently ran along the runes of the blade, carved into it by his sister, which enchanted it with flame. He had found her old journals, and would apply the same to his new weapon. A spear, he decided, as he was going to use the staff as a basis as well. As his hand touched the metal, a word sprang unbidden to his mouth: “Felo’talah.”

Fiery death… a fitting idea for revenge…

Never. The word echoed in Jonathan Surrette’s mind like a mantra.

It had been a long war, and having sided with the Maldraxxi for the conflict, one that he relished. But he had not forgotten about the people who had taken him in on Azeroth. He had come home, wondering what had become of things since he left to fight in the Shadowlands. And he did not like the changes he was seeing.

Never. He kept repeating it.

In life, he had thought the Forsaken to be monsters, just like all other humans did - though when first the death knights, then the Gilneans, had been brought in, he began to find that accusation ironic. One group were murderers, the other beasts, and both had caused their share of woe, and yet they were embraced. “They were mindless and didn’t know any better,” some would say.

Jonathan had snorted derisively at that idea. If he was honest, he still did. Especially after the Alliance had also embraced the void elves. The Horde had not been so laden with hypocrisy. At least, not until recently…

It was the circumstances of his death that had truly changed his mind. He had died with hate in his soul and a curse on his lips when he was cut down in Andorhal. For all that he hated his killers, he did not blame them - it was war, kill or be killed. But he did blame those who had sent him and his comrades to die… knowing that they had no chance. Especially once the val’kyr got involved…

Never.

Like most Forsaken, Jonathan had been from Lordaeron in life, but he had not been killed and raised by the Scourge like most of the originals. He had been killed and raised by the Forsaken themselves, using the val’kyr who had bound themselves to Sylvanas after Arthas’ fall. It was ironic that the very fate he had hoped to avoid, having remained in Southshore - which was largely untouched by the Scourge, and he had served in the village militia to keep it that way - ended up catching up to him anyway. After Southshore fell to the Forsaken Blight, he and some of his surviving comrades were able to flee to Chillwind Camp, just outside Andorhal; his cousin Adesse, a mage of the Kirin Tor who had fought in Northrend, had convinced them to seek their vengeance by fighting the Forsaken there.

And there, they had all died. But not for long.

Never.

Some of his comrades were horrified by the fact that they had become the monsters they were fighting. Some had committed suicide, preferring true death rather than being made to be Sylvanas’ minions. But Jonathan had embraced the irony of becoming that which he had fought, because now he would have vengeance… against the armchair generals and their goons who had sent him here to die. He believed that the militia’s “sacrifice” would be used to prop up morale back home, the “martyrs” who had fought to try and liberate Lordaeron from the “evil” Forsaken. But he had been there, and he didn’t see it that way. To top it off, he had been born and raised in the capital, and Sylvanas had allowed him the chance to go home… in a manner of speaking. It was more than the Alliance had been able to offer.

He became a fanatic after that, and he did not feel any shame in it. Then, or now. During the Legion war, he had tangled with Greymane’s goons in Stormheim while Sylvanas pursued the Wolf King himself. But it was during the “War of the Thorns”, as some called it, that he came into his own. He had been promoted to the rank of Executor when his commander fell during the siege of Teldrassil. As he and his troops witnessed the burning of the World Tree, his first act as their commander had been to lead them in a mocking rendition of an old Winter Veil tune: “Night elves roasting, on an open fire… dark souls laughing at their plight…”

And both sides called it a “war crime”. The idea made him laugh then. It still did.

Never.

Even after she had abandoned the Horde and been found to be in the service of the Jailer, not once did Jonathan believe that Sylvanas, nor himself for that matter, had done anything wrong during the Fourth War. War was cruelty. War was devastation. War was death. Anyone who thought otherwise was addled in the brain. There was no room for idealism in this world. There never had been. You either died, or you brought death. There was no in-between. Burning Teldrassil? Attacking Brennadam? Using Derek Proudmoore as a weapon against his sister Jaina? This was war. You couldn’t be choosy.

But even he had not been fond of the idea of surrendering the fate of creation to someone like Zovaal. Having seen the Maw for himself, he wondered what on earth Sylvanas had been thinking, wanting to ally with someone like that - and he had not been the least bit surprised when she turned on him upon discovering his real intentions. The covenants had used her knowledge to finally destroy the Jailer, and then left her fate to that insufferable night elf witch. The fact that Tyrande had not killed the Dark Lady meant that she could return one day, and he looked forward to it.

But it made him wonder: What about the rest of his people, back on Azeroth? He had heard rumors after the Fourth War that Calia Menethil had been raised as a “holy undead” and sought to “help” the Forsaken… with the support of the Alliance. The thought sickened him at the time. It still did. But upon his return - he had spent a little extra time in Maldraxxus after the victory in Zereth Mortis - he discovered to his horror that not only were the rumors true, but now she had put herself into Sylvanas’ place, with Derek as her consort, a mockery of the relationship between Sylvanas and her champion, Nathanos Blightcaller.

They called her “the Pallid Lady”. If his stomach had still worked, it would have churned right then and there.

He called her the Usurper. Blood kin of the traitor prince. Alliance puppet.

He would never serve her.

Never.

Never!

NEVER!!!