Echoes

[Rigley]

-Endling-

Endling lay awake beside Clovis, eyes straining to close and get some sleep. Despite this, she still found it a bit hard to keep her mind upon idle thoughts. She was having a bit of difficulty sleeping now, just fidgeting slightly with her hands as she tried to pass the time.

She had seen something before Clovis came back-- a strange creature in the distance. She found her eyes drawn to it from its glowing light, but...

It was all a bit of a blur there, between the creature's movement and her own into the smithy. She tried her best to keep her composure, and to her judgement... it worked well enough. The others had spoken about seeing such things-- certainly this wasn't an oddity. But the creature's piercing eyes, its deafening scream... it made her unsettled even recounting it.


A recount of the day might help. Today had certainly been eventful-- despite things they all slept comfortably enough in this new location, even if the chapel was now walled away from them. It was interesting how swiftly they had been shuffled about-- in a way it was disconcerting, as if this was all intentional. As if they were being led like a flock of sheep. But what else could be done, after all? There certainly seemed to be no sign of reasoning with whatever made these actions occur. Only subject to his whims-- the strange skeletal shopkeep, who from day one had made a point to make his presence known.

He... had told Versich something. What exactly, she didn't know. Only that he was hellbent on arriving at the inn. No matter what obstacles he had to overcome. It was admirable, but in a way... disconcerting. She understood why-- there was no doubt of that. But if it would lead him to anything good...

Well. That will have to be seen later.


Beyond that, the day was hectic enough already. The seeking out and slaying of the imitators, the exploration of the town which always seemed to provide just -barely- enough to survive in its snowy waste... And what else?

She shifted about alongside Clovis' side in silence, glancing up to the slumbering paladin. Thankfully no one was near to see her cheeks go flush with color.

...Today was still a good day..

[Rigley]

-Endling-

Samantha lay awake that night, lost in thought.

She sat upright in the bed, clutching the sheets to her for warmth-- house or not, the cold of Northwind was oppressive regardless. It wasn't that she was feeling energetic-- far from it. Just like all the other days this one left her feeling drained and fatigued, more than ready to fall to sleep in Clovis' arms as she had the other days.

...So why did she lay awake now?

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow they left.


She sat staring at her hands. Free of gloves to mask the now absent burns and seared image of the holy pendant that had branded her right palm. So full of life, flush with warmth, so gentle to the touch...

Tomorrow they would be withered and blackened, masked beneath heavy cloth to hide what lay beneath. Tomorrow her body would be smothered in heavy robes for warmth, and to hide scars and a wretched form. Tomorrow she would be... back to normal. And the thought of it terrified her.

It was difficult all this time to see an end to the road. It was even more difficult still to imagine that this place, above all others, had fulfilled the wish she had so desperately carried within her for all of these years. And that somehow, in an instant, it would all be taken away. It would all be gone. She would no longer breathe in the cool air, or again know the rich taste of food. She would no longer rest well at night, instead to lie dormant, biding her time until morning or until Clovis awoke.

...Clovis.

That was a matter in and of itself. And it was one which became more and more a torment with each passing thought of it. They had made light of it, earlier-- but she knew that he didn't truly understand what she meant when she made mention to him of her concern...

"I'm sorry for acting... indecent. These last few nights."

He had played it off jokingly. And for that she could never blame him, of course. But...
There were vows. Proceedings, matters of commitment and marriage-- all of these things she had always been told of to take beforehand. It made her feel... wrong, when at first she was presented with it. That she could throw away such things for a time of indulgence, however the kind. It was... an unknown act for her, to act against such.

Yet once she had. And again. And again. And-- it had been something more than a broken vow or a fling of idle fancy. It was affection, in a way she had not known before. Complete acceptance-- no glances about as he rested his arm along her shoulder, or brief ceases as they held hands when another passed by. The past didn't matter. That she was once undead-- wholly absolved. It was passion, and...

She would never feel that again.


In silence she stared out the grime-covered window of the home, watching the blizzard coat the town in snow once more. Resetting the world beyond to as it once was; placing books upon their shelves, repairing the wake of flame which had rained down this morning...

She looked down, a look of remorse and guilt on her face.
Part of her wished that this could all begin again once more. At least this last day, as serene as it had become. She wanted what she had told Clovis that night before bed to be true-- that they would wake up in the safety of Stormwind's walls. Or Dalaran. Or Gilneas. Darkshire, Redridge-- anywhere. And just continue on, as if their lives were normal. As if this one night of normalcy could become a lifetime.

...She knew that he would will the same. For any price. He had even offered his own life to the shopkeep, before...

But at this point, it wouldn't be worth it without him. After they had endured so much together. After he had shown her such love and kindness, even cursed as she was.

Her mind rambled on-- she couldn't sleep. The thought graced her mind; how tragic that the last night of true sleep and dreams be one of fidgeting and restlessness instead. But in truth, that mattered little to her now. So much more plagued her mind. If only the night would never end... If only. That was the problem. If only.

She looked across the room at the mirror hanging nearby, and once more observed herself. Skin, rather pale from her lack of outings. Hair, a mess as it had been since this whole ordeal began. Black as night, a contrast to the pale tones of her skin. Eyes of cool slate, strained from the hour and stress. Years ago, in an abbey in Lordaeron, she would have called the woman in the mirror plain, or average.

On this night, and this week, she had felt beautiful. She was beautiful, in any concern of her own.

With an unsteady sigh she eased herself down back into bed, resting herself against the man still slumbering beside her. She forced her eyes close-- she would make it out of here. She would return home with Clovis, and things would return to normal. She would be happy again. She would be safe again. They both would be. She knew this.


...Then why was she crying?

[Rigley]

-Endling-

"Think not of our time together these last few days as a fleeting dream.
Think of it as the future. Someday, we shall have all we could ever ask for fulfilled. For now, we shall continue to enjoy what we have.
I love you, Samantha Landon.

I promise you. Nothing outside your control can ever change that."

These thoughts echoed all throughout Endling's mind that night, when they had managed to finally settle back down within the sane world outside of Northwind.


She wouldn't dwell on it, she told herself. She couldn't-- she had managed to remove herself from it in the past. But those words, those nights... they had ripped those wound open once more. Even now she found herself restless, up and about the house despite the late hour-- all was still, silent; caught in her frozen frame of night until morning came.

Instead of biding her time along a couch or guestroom bed, this time Endling leaned back against the door frame of the house's bedroom. Shuddering slightly from the night air, trying her best to convince herself to wander back, or if nothing more, to at least...

'Do something.'

She glanced within the room, unable to make out anything save the vague shapes of dressers and the foot of the bed.

'You've wandered all the way here. Just to perch at the doorstep?', she questioned herself once more. She shuddered at the thought of overly imposing, or just... giving up. It was curious that at this lonely hour, mind left to wander, that she did not preoccupy herself with thoughts of her own concern. Her body returned to undeath, her use of the Light once more a punishing flame.

...Instead she found herself perched on the edge of the bedroom, desperately longing for a simple embrace of comfort through the night. It seemed like such a -childish- notion, even to herself. To be so stirred not by a carnal pleasure or even matters of warmth, but the simple hold of security and affection that she had become so staggeringly accustomed to over the previous week's span. But to ask for the same now... would be wrong. Would it not? The connotation of it alone was an aberration, even with earnest intent. It just... seemed to be misplaced.

What was wrong with her? She was sentimental, yes. Emotion, certainly, but to find herself wholly urged along by such a notion troubled her. Once more the night's chill sent a shiver down her spine. Without a word she once more looked within the bedchamber-- perhaps he was simply rustling about, or her mind was playing tricks upon her. She wouldn't know what to say, if she were found looming along the door like this.


...And yet the only thing she could bring herself to do was slump down against the corner of the corridor, covering her face and bundling up against her cloak. She had been affected so much this past week. Her emotions toyed with by some unknown force embodied by a -town-, her love either caught in bouts of stress, or struggling to survive against the creatures that lurked in that place. It was pure stress at times, for the both of them. For all of them. Perhaps that was why she found herself pining for the gesture of a warm embrace now as well.

"I will be by your side every step of the way, if you'll have me. You won't go through this alone."

"...I wouldn't wish for anyone but you."

The last phrase came out in a murmer, the priestess resting her head against her folded arms. Peering ahead through eyes struggling with fatigue, she found herself lost in thought. Each word was so precious to recall.

"I love you..." she murmered in response to the flowing memories, before she simply lost herself in thought.

---------------------------------

Many miles away, in the mountians of Alterac, the smoke of a crashed zeppelin slowly began to die down, visible to few beyond the mountains just south of the wreck.

"Suppose that was an Alliance one, Commander? Would be our luck, that the first one in months would crash." sighed a balding man, glancing to the mostly plate-clad officer standing beside him.

"...I'm not sure. My prayers go out to them, for what it's worth. We should send word onward to make sure someone can reach them. I shan't wish to be accountable, should any perish for a lack of it."

"Of course, Commander. I imagine all at the church would give their prayers as well."
The Commander nodded faintly, expression troubled as he lowered his scope. "I'll make sure I make mention in the sermon tonight. Thank you for alerting me, Flind."


In the town below civilians bustled to and fro. An alchemist awoke late in the day, far behind on schedule, deliveries late to be sent out. The town's tinker labored over a broken engine, frustratedly scribbling in new diagrams and corrections with each glance back to the smoking pile of machinery. Businessmen meandered between the general store and warehouse on a check of inventory, and the local historians were preparing themselves for an investigation of one of the town's sites. The rancher's daughter went about her day in the chapel. Far to the north, an expedition prepared to deploy in the dead of night.


All was as it was meant to be, once more.

[Rigley]

-Seda-

Clang.

Clang.

One after another rang in the ice-coated and chilled caverns. Barely visible from outside of the cavern's maw was a diminutive figure standing firmly upright, a pick-ax of comparable size to herself clenched in her grip. With another swing a chunk of stone and ore fell out, the figure taking a moment from her digging to place the pile into the cart beside her. With a light grunt of exertion she tugged the weighty pick back upright, angling herself back towards the wall. She took pause, hearing the crunch of the fallen snow from the cave's entrance.

“ . . . Yes?” asked the woman, her voice almost timid in its volume alone. She didn't look towards the source of the approaching sound, merely addressing it before taking another swing of her pick.

“It's... nothing. I just thought I'd check in on you. You've been out here working for a while.” replied a voice in return. “...Your mother will be after me something fierce if you get sick out here, you know. Are you sure you don't want to come in soon?”

She returned the question with only a shake of her head. “I . . . am well. You should go back.” she said, trying to force a sense of concern from her voice as she swung once more, drawing back as more stone fell. She heard his footsteps leaving without another word, and her shoulders sagged somewhat, pick tumbling about her fingers slightly as she pondered the fleeting exchange. He had just wanted to be kind. She truly despised her own words, sometimes. Most of the time. She slowly shook her head, going back to mining once more in the lonely mine.

...She didn't wish to reject him. It was for him that she was out here laboring, after all. Stone for grindstones and powders, ore for gears and panels. ...With the way she acted he must have taken her to be less of a volunteer and more one obligated and forced. She was the strongest of the family, though, and they didn't have the money to pay for so much materials on research endeavors alone. So she mined, and mined. It was for her good as well as his as his apprentice.

His apprentice, and his daughter. Was it bad that they came to mind in such a way? It wasn't that he was neglectful, or had not tried to reach out to her, but... each time was inconvenient. It was always when she didn't have the time to spare, either for work either out of the home or in the lab. He had brought her up to be so meticulous to the fine details of her work, either way. Could she be blamed for adhering to his own standards?

...No one was blaming her, or accusing her. But for some reason just the thought made her defensive, nonetheless. Her grip on the pick had become vice-like-- she eased up slightly, her expression growing sullen as she saw the aged wooden handle now dented slightly inwards with the shape of her small hands. She took a moment now to set the tool down, staring down further into the otherwise empty mine. Only darkness as far as she could see-- not a single lantern ahead to light the way. For some reason it was entrancing. She let her mind wander a few moments more; she had already worked longer than her shift was meant to be. But... the extra labor meant little to her. She could stand a good deal more, still.

She cast her gaze aside to the dented pick, and made to retrieve it. With a hopeful glance she eyed the entrance to the cavern, hoping to see a figure waiting there for recognition-- but there was nothing outside save the sway of the trees in the snowy downpour. ...Perhaps next time she could entreat him to tarry with her a little longer.



Clang.

Clang.

It seemed like hours passed in the icy cavern. Outside nightfall had already began to come, but the miner carried on. Each strike was measured and forceful, timed like a machine. Steady, consistent, untiring. The only sound between the sound of the crumbling rock and striking metal was a brief huff of breath with each draw back with the pick.

And then, something more. Once again she heard footsteps from the cavern entrance. She almost took pause again, but restrained herself from turning to address the newcomer. She took another swing, nodding slightly. “ . . . Hello.” she managed after a moment of hesitation.

“I... brought you something.” said the voice from before, coming a bit closer as she set her pick against the cavern wall. The frost seemed to have melted away ever slightly, the blue, frost-like hue of the room seeming to be dispersed. “It's nothing much, but it's cold out. I thought the least I could do was give you something to keep warm, if you're really going to be working this late...”

She turned, another gnome standing not far from her, a pair of steaming mugs in hand. He offered a very faint smile, almost apologetic as he took in the sight of the heaps of stone and ore piled into the carts; she had been working all day, without rest at this rate. With another nod he offered out a mug.

The miner returned his faint smile with one of her own. She took a step forward, reaching out for the mug. For some reason the gesture brought moisture to her eyes, quickly blinked away as if to hide them. “Thank you... papi.” she murmered in response.

“Did... you say something?”

Suddenly the crack of ice became audible, and in a blink the frost-coated cavern was merely dank, snow flurrying about outside. A dwarf stood ahead of her, her hand outstretched towards the mug and frozen in place. For a brief moment she could hear a siren blaring in her mind, before she drew back, holding her hands against her helmet.

“Are... you alright, lass?” asked the dwarf, taking a step forward. Cautiously he reached out towards the strange woman, only to jerk back as she tugged away from his slightest touch. Her cold plate armor quickly drew out from under his fingertips and pulled upright immediately-- In the blink of an eye she was standing at attention as usual,looking up to him from behind the black visor of her helm.

“ . . . I have completed this task. I request earned payment.” she told him, voice distant and emotionless once more.

“Ah... aye, of course. I didn't know, what with ye out here this late. Come on back t'the forge-- you can have this on the way.” he told her, holding out the mug once more to her, though this time she seemed to have no interest in the drink whatsoever. Her gaze did not even move.

“ . . . I have no need for that.”

“But y'just--”

“ . . . But I appreciate this gesture. Let us return.”

The foreman ran a hand along his brow, but nodded in return. He moved to take the cart of ore, only to see the gnome take up the chain connecting it, dragging it on behind her with little hesitance. Without another exchange of words he marched on up the hillside with the miner to Kharanos' forge, averting his gaze all the while.

[Rigley]

-Seda-

As most of the cavern slumbered below Seda crept out into the billowing wind which was bombarding the isle. She clambered a ways away from the cavern mouth, staring off into the abyss that seemed to envelop the world past the cold white mist, spanning out around them as far as the eye could see.

She stared keenly ahead, formulating different ideas in her mind as to the source of the dense fog. The elven knight Itheros seemed to believe that it was unnatural, and from its persistent nature she was inclined to agree. He even suggested it might be a technological source, though of this she admitted a fair amount of doubt... The fumes of exhaust would likely serve just as good a purpose as this mist, if there existed a machine large enough to produce this.

Her eyes closed in thought, folding her arms as her mind continued to spin on...

And on...



"Seeeeda~"

An eye blinked open, cool blue light radiating out within her helm. It had become fogged over during her meditation, the gnome quickly making to fix this with a rag stowed at her side as she looked about for the familiar voice.

"Seda!" cried the voice once more. As she turned to face it she nearly tumbled back, taken by surprise at the rather sudden appearance of another female gnome. She was slightly shorter in stature (but then again, most were) to Seda, and had her long hair tugged back into a bit of a messy tail. An old alliance combat engineer's suit was worn a bit messily on her, stained with grease along the arms and left unfastened in some places.

". . . Impossible." Seda replied after a moment, voice remaining dull and without luster. "You're--"

"Is not! I'm right here." said the gnome, quickly dashing about and setting an arm around the heavy plated gnome, trying without much success to tug her down into a seated position with her. "Come on! Let's talk! We haven't talked in a while, have we? It's been so long!"

"We have not spoken to one another because you are deceased. You were slain in the battle at Corin's Crossing, and you were not resuscitated nor risen. I have visited your grave. If you were alive you would not know of my location, even more so due to this current coordinate."

The smaller gnome's sunny expression was briefly twinged with disappointment. "...Can't just be happy for a bit with me, at least?" she asked with a hopeful smile.

"It is not healthy to indulge in illusions." Seda replied, diverting her gaze elsewhere, albeit with some hesitation.

"But you still see them. So does it really matter?"

"I see what my vision imparts upon me. It is not at my discretion whether I wish to view these recollections. Like the 'hunger' we feel, I do experience these visions. Like the hunger as well, neither are healthy to indulge in. They are unwanted."

The pair were silent for a time after this, Seda just staring ahead blankly as the other fidgeted with her hands in a frustrated expression.


"Can't just bottle everything up, Seda. Even if it does make you feel better. If you don't take out that smile of yours sometime you won't have one to show off, yeah?" she asked, giving her a bright and infectious grin, even turning her helmed head to face her when she received no looks from the armor-clad gnome.

". . .I have no reason to smile at present." the death knight replied in a faint voice, quickly turning herself back to look out over the sea.

"You don't need a reason now. Just think back, like when you and I and the crew were still around. You were happy then, right?"

". . .Better times do not necessarily bring forth feelings of merriment."

"Come on now!" cried the other voice, a sense of some irritation actually taking to her tone. "What's happened to you, Seda? Has it really come this far?"

"You know what has happened to me, and you will not continue this charade any longer. I refuse to be tormented by the past. You are a figment, and I will not be toyed with by my own mind." Seda replied in a forceful voice. "Now go away. My patience is exhausted."

The other gnome rose up, her cheerful grin slowly fading. She set her hand on Seda's pauldron as the helmed gnome began to divert her attention back to the sea, rubbing over the cool metal plating idly.

"Sometimes it's better to hurt than to not feel anything at all, Seda."

". . ."



As daylight began to break upon the isle Seda pulled herself upright, staring into the distance a moment longer. She was alone now. Alone, as she had been the entire night. Despite herself she looked upwards, a smile coming over her hidden visage from beneath the lens of her helm. Her mind stirred to try to recall her unwanted vision-- was it hours, or minutes before? By now she had pushed it out of mind. She tried to search for some meaning in her faint grin, at least something that made it feel genuine.

. . . To her, it was just the forced movement of muscles.

[Rigley]

Disclaimer: This story is not full of fun things. Do not read if Forsaken doctors are disturbing to you. Seriously.

-Rodile-

"Please, just this way."

"I-I'm not sure about this. Where are we? Why did we have to come out here?"

"I don't disclose matters of personal practice sir, but let us just say I am more 'at home' in my own clinic."

"Y-your... clinic."

All around rose the stone walls of a mausoleum. The path was well-trodden dirt, with excessively dim lights leading the way down the long hallways. They had already followed so many twists and turns on the way here; even if the man wished to escape now, there was little guarantee he would find his way out of this labyrinth.

"We're here."

"A-ah. We... we are?" asked the man, tugging at the neck of his collar. "It's... funny, you know. I actually don't feel that sick now, sir. It may have just been a cough."

"Lapses in condition are common." replied the doctor, peering back. "Temporary. To return in greater strength. All the more reason to deal with the source of your problem now."

The man cleared his throat, his sight going a bit woozy at the sight of those sunken eyes staring back into his own. He unsteadily entered in, yelping as he heard the door slam shut behind him. "I-I really should be going. I-" he began, jumping some as he spotted two glowing eyes in the corner of the room. With a cry of pain he found a long syringe jutting into his chest, the doctor swooping forth to catch him as his legs rapidly gave way. He let out a scream, only intensifying as he was slammed down onto a crude wooden slab behind him. He began to writhe, trying his best to clamber off of the table, but by now the restraints were in place.

Calmly Rodile paced alongside the man, pulling on a pair of gloves and wresting up a few tools, sliding an assortment of lights over the man. He tugged a lever alongside the operating table. "I want you to observe carefully, now. You've likely not seen a tonic of this nature perform so potently in the past." he called back behind him.

With a howl of pain the man snapped his eyes shut, momentarily blinded by the glaring and stifling heat of the lamps set over him. He attempted to turn his head, only to find braces preventing him from doing so. Thankfully he found himself wrest up out of direct line of sight with the lights, but what he saw didn't calm his nerves at all. His now bare chest came into view, held aloft by the restraints he now found himself bound in. Meek murmers of desperation escaped his lips as he saw syringes and blades drawn from the bin beside the doctor.

Whistling merrily Rodile polished off and sharpened his implements. In particular he fetched out a few keen blades and a mallet of sorts, displaying them to the onlooker in the corner. "Now... let us practice medicine." he said in a tone reserved only for his more serious of moments. A few more injections were administered, and a machine attached, the steady rhythm of a heartbeat filling the room. "Clean incision made... take note of points of detachment."

With a buzz of screeching static from the doctor's mask the forsaken turned, swinging his arm with brute force into the man. In a split second he found himself attempting to cry out in pain, only to squelch his exclamation in complete astonishment and fear at the cleaved gap now carved into his chest. His restraints rattled with each convulsion, and the drone of the machines around him became deafening as the incessant beeping of the monitor escalated quicker and quicker.

"STOP! STOP, PLEASE!" cried the man, his sight fading only to draw back, blurred and dizzy from the exertion. He couldn't tell exactly what was happening now-- he saw the doctor's hands plunge into the gaping wound, and felt only pain to the deepest core of his being. Strangulated cries escaped him, the sound of his straining metal cuffs spurring him to thrash more and more. As he felt a pull from within he could cry out only one thing, again and again; "NO MORE!"

"Oh, my. You'll want to keep still for this." called Rodile over the din around him, fetching out his syringe as he began to draw and inject with the implements. His expression became cross as the man continued to writhe, peering up to see his eyes rolled back, a froth on his lips. With a sigh of discontent there was a brief and sudden jab of a needle, and a flat, unchanging tone filled the room.

"Such petulant things." commented the doctor.



When the patient awoke his eyesight was blurred. Immediately he grasped at his chest, now lain back along the table. To his surprise and marginal relief he felt only a clean line of stitches. He seemed to breath clear- he even felt lighter somehow. He went still and stiff as he saw the visage of the doctor looming nearby though, arms crossed and bloody blade in hand.

"W-why did you...?"

"Myes?"

"T-the... During the operation you--"

"Hmmmmmyes. Apologies. You must have been experiencing nightmares while you were under-- it appears I may have given you a somewhat 'deficient' dosage."

"Then... then it was a dream?"

"Myes. I'm afraid we will need to put you back under once more, to complete the examination and operation. We've counted out the appropriate dose this time."

The man furrowed his brow, eying the undead suspiciously. He took in a deep breath of air, unburdened and full; satisfied he meekly nodded his head, holding out his arm. With a prick, he fell back against the table, vision fading once more. Rodile turned, flipping the bloody knife about in his hand and tapping it against a cart nearby, tugging the bloody sheet back to reveal a pile of bloody viscera set within it.

"You have under an hour until the dosage wears off and he expires. Get them back in and affixed correctly." he told the woman sitting in the corner, handing off his knife as he dusted off his hands, stepping out of the room. "I'll return shortly."

[Rigley]

-Jovana-

Jovana lay back against a towering building of stone behind her, legs crossed over one another as she idly sloshed the liquid within her bottle about before her. Through the light buzz of alcohol clouding her senses she watched the tequila and found herself a bit entranced by the motion, passing the time with an intent look of concentration on her face. Somewhat out of mind she heard her horse beside her let out a neigh, though she didn’t make much of it until she found herself tugged up by the neck of her jacket.

Before her stood a somewhat larger gnome, in muscular size alone if not in legitimate height. Unlike Jovana she wore a set of makeshift armor, made of crude banding in a poor state of repair. Most striking of all was a large pole-axe which hung from the sling on her back, one that would almost certainly send an average gnome toppling from trying to wield. Unable to come up with much of a response in turn Jovana just peered back into the piercing emerald eyes staring back into her own, only now finding the ability to fidget and try and wiggle out of the gnome’s grip. This received a grin in return, the gnome shoving some of her messy blonde hair back out from her eyes. “Sup?” she asked, setting Jovana down on her feet. “What, did I sneak up on ya?” she snickered in return, giving her scrappy armor a rattle as she rolled her shoulders.

“’Course not.” Jovana replied, uncorking her bottle and downing it as she was set back by the gnome before her. “…Maybe a little.” She added after, face feeling a bit flushed. “So… what did you want to do tonight?”

“Heck, I’unno.” Replied the other woman in return, snatching the bottle out of the gnome’s hands for her own swig. “Not like we ever plan stuff, huh? Jus’ do. I say we ride out and find a spot to set up camp.”

Jovana idly fidgeted with her now free hand, subconsciously having to shoo off the urge to fetch another bottle from her bag. With a nod she glanced towards the horse next to her. “…That doesn’t sound bad to me. I actually have a place in mind we could go.” She offered, grabbing the reigns of the beast to walk him off to the nearby stables. The other gnome followed close behind, idly scanning about Old Town as they carried on.

“Yeah? Trying t’get sappy on me or something?” she asked through her ever-present grin. “Y’know I don’t do that stuff too well, Jo.”

“Nah, s’not sappy.” Murmured Jovana in return, adjusting the bandana around her neck. Though it was tugged down a second later by the woman behind her.

“M’kay. Well, do your worst.”




It was a bit of a hike up through the Elwynn Forest, and by the end Jovana found herself panting and more than a little sore from the walk. Prodded on by her companion they eventually reached the top of the hillside, Jovana stepping over to the tree sprouting forth from the peak and leaning against it for support.

“Was a bit longer than I remembered.” Huffed the exhausted gnome, peering back.

“Nah, you just need t’get out more.” She heard in reply, tugged back into the warrior’s arms as she walked by. There was a moment of silence as the other woman surveyed the surroundings; it was a rather quaint spot up along the stream, the distant din of the nearby waterfalls audible from here, yet not overpowering as they would be if closer. Surprisingly to the woman held in her embrace a slight frown came over her visage—at least until she spotted her peering eyes, at which point she resumed her characteristic grin. She nudged her gently, taking a seat against the tree with an arm still held around her.

“Looks nice. Y’take long finding the place?”


“Oh, nah. Just… ran across it while on a job.” She replied, reaching for the bottle of liquor at her side only to find it snatched by the other gnome. She didn’t say much in return though, only resting her head against the unarmored shoulder she was held against. Without any other words she pulled her arms around the gnome beside her and held her close in a hug, the woman not commenting much on the display of affection save an idle pat to her back.

There wasn’t exactly much to these little outings. Jovana didn’t mind that, with as complex as her days had grown living in the city. It wasn’t mercenary life as she knew it in this recent guild; this was day by day more of a constant job than anything, and it was a sense of activity she hadn’t felt in quite some time. In that respect it was still very comforting to have something simple to enjoy once it had all winded down.

After three months, being like this still gave her butterflies in the stomach.

“Hey, Jo?”

“…Yeah?”


“You’re alright.”





Jovana awoke as the sun split the layer of fog hanging heavy over Ratchet, bringing her hands up to shield herself from the piercing light. She nearly fell from the box she had inadvertently found herself sleeping against, rubbing her head as he addled mind tried to calm itself. She still felt a heavy haze left over from the late night of drinking. Better than a hangover. She stumbled upright, briefly glancing about the room as she pulled a bottle from her side. Kate was still asleep. The rest probably were as well. Silently she slipped out the door, walking just up the road to the nearby bar.

She hung about for a while, making largely indecipherable banter with the rest of the early drunks. Eventually she caught sight of another gnome, and shortly after ended up perched nearby. She couldn’t remember much of what she said. It was mostly some stumbling attempts at small-talk, a concept of which she had grown foreign enough with when moderately sober. As the hour drew on she was doing a rather fair job of completely missing the growing agitation in the other woman’s voice.

Whether it was just another misstep in the conversation or some aggressively drunken flirting she soon found the woman approaching her, expression cross.

“Heeeeey.” She said, taking a swig from her bottle, standing a bit off-center as she managed a wide grin. “C’mon, don’t gimme a look like that. Wanna drink, sweetcheeks?” She asked, holding the bottle out to the one before her. Without a word the woman peered between the bottle and its owner, before rearing back a hand and sending a hard slap across Jovana’s face. To her surprise she fell over, more or less lulled into a drunken sleep as she landed heavy on the ground.

“Bah. One of you brutes go throw her through that house down the road.” Called the innkeeper. “Stupid gnomes, always makin’ trouble.”

[Rigley]

-Sibyl-

“Sweep, sweep!”

It was morning, but in typical fashion the clouds over Gilneas had rolled in just before daybreak. Instead of bright sunlight the inhabitants of the land were awaking to another dreary winter day.

“Sweep, O sweep!” belted out the light voice of Sibyl, ambling through the streets with her broom held in hand. Each step was accompanied with the faint scrape of cloth, the gnome's oversized attire running up along the damp cobble as she evaded puddle and pit in the road, carrying on through the merchant square.

“Sweep, sweep!”

Some movement caught her eye, the gnome halting abruptly. Outside one of the houses sat a young girl, thin in frame and colored in a pallor which the gnome would take as sickly if she were not used to the complexion of the Gilneans. She watched as the girl's eyes set upon her, idly making her way over. Aside from the youngling it seemed the streets were fairly bare-- a late start to the murky day, apparently.

“Oi.” chimed Sibyl, stopping as she came near the girl. “D'cha folks in there 'ave need'a a chimbleysweep?”

The girl slowly shook her head, her eyes a bit wide as she watched the gnome idle from side to side.

“Shame, 'at. You alright 'ere? Looks like y'jus saw a spook.”

“Ah... ah, no.” replied the girl finally. Her voice seemed quite light. “How... old are you?”

The gnome narrowed her eyes, setting her broom in its strap along her back as she removed a cigarette from her jacket. “Jus wot angle'r you cuttin' 'er?”

“...You are very small.” she replied bluntly, voice drawing even fainter. She seemed to catch her response too late, trying to offer the faintest of nervous smiles.

“Oh. Oh, yeah. I get 'at a lot.” she replied, nodding absently and folding her arms. The girl stared at her silently, opening her mouth to speak before she was quickly quelled. “'Cos im'a soddin' gnome! Use y'loaf!”

The girl shrunk back some at the exclamation, trying to murmer out some apologies. Sibyl was already ambling off, cursing under her breath as she glanced about the city with a scrutinizing glare.



Really, the people weren't that bad. She wasn't expecting a warm welcome, and she certainly didn't get one. She at least expected a child to know better than to prod her though-- lousy lout didn't even look like she was from one of the houses of wealth. Novelty maid or not, at least Sibyl maintained some higher company than the rabble out in the lanes.

She took in a deep drag of her cigar, incinerating it with a tap of her finger as she let out a sigh filled with smoke. As her fingers flared up soot and ash seemed to drop from them, tumbling down the front of her once white shirt and coating yet more of it with black. She craned her head upwards, seeking out the crest of her employer's manor-- if she wasn't finding work in the square then she might as well get her usual chores started early.

“Oi! Half-pint!”

More rabble.

Sibyl whirled about to look out for the source of the noise. Her hand gravitated back to her broom; anything could happen in these back alleys. As she stepped forward the figure of a pair of lanky humans parted through the fog, one twirling a pipe in hand.

“Cor. Wot're you after, y'gormless bellen's?” snapped the gnome, taking a hesitant step back. The pair were not wholly unfamiliar to her; they were thiefs. Vagabonds. A crew of unsavory individuals that pleased themselves with roaming around and taking swings for the weak.

“'At ain't any way t'talk, foreigner.” replied one. The other straightened his back, clasping the pipe in both hands.

“T'king's gone an' thrown up tax for'is buildin'. Bein'a model pair'a citizens 'at we are, we're takin' it upon a'selves to collect.”

“Come closer'n I'll smoke you out. 'Ell if 'm gonna be walkin' on ev'ryday jus'tget troubled by some sods like you.” Sibyl replied, her broom held outright. Both men let out a hearty laugh at the display, the one with the pipe already striding forward.

“A broom? D'ya think't you're gonn-” he began, but was cut off as a blast of hot ash was flung into his face, sent from the impromptu stave with a grunt of exertion from the gnome's part. The man threw his hands up to his face, letting out a high-pitched scream of pain as he staggered back into the forming black cloud.

“'Ats what'chu get! On your plates!” called the gnome, stamping her broom against the ground and readying herself. To her surprise though the other man bolted through the cloud of smoke, a broken bottle swung just over the top of her hat as he took a wild swing for her. A few quick blows came down upon the gnome, Sibyl weaving and ducking as the jagged glass and the man's swinging fist continued to pass her by. Finally her luck ran out however, the gnome letting out a gasp of pain as she was struck across the head by the man's hardened hand. With another gout of smoke she was gone, reappearing a foot behind her assailant.

It was almost enough. She drew her pistol and fired-- unloading a slew of firebolts into the man's back, until he was down upon the ground wallowing in a puddle, crying for mercy. Sibyl set her hands on her hips, a wide grin spreading across her face. Just as she opened her mouth to gloat over her victory...

She caught the sight of a lead pipe swinging down onto her head.



When Sibyl awoke she was lain along a soft bed, a cool rag set atop the pounding wound inflicted upon her head. She drew her hands up, letting out a miserable groan of pain as she tried to gather her bearings.

“Ah, I'm glad you're awake Miss Ashcraft.” spoke the voice of one of her fellow servants of the manor. “When that girl came to the manor with you in tow I feared you might be more seriously injured.”

Sibyl let out a sigh, a shaking hand reaching aside and grasping at her coat, trying to locate her box of cigarettes within its pockets. Predictably, her coin seemed to be gone. To her misfortune so did the smokes. She was placated some as the man attending to her fished one of his own out of his vest. Sibyl took the cigar, lighting it with a snap of her fingers as she lay back into the bed.

“...Girl?” she asked, peering at the man as he nodded in confirmation. She took a drag from her cigarette, loosing a cloud of smoke after a moment. “Feh... I 'ate owin' people.”

[Rigley]

-Sibyl-

Sibyl wasn't much of a drinker.

She sat slumped forward onto the table in her room, a bottle standing upright before her. She stared into the dimly tinted glass, her hand gently rolling the liquor within about, watching it slosh from side to side with her dim blue eyes. A pitiful croak came from the gnome, partly cough, partly a faint groan. She brought the bottle up, taking a few too many gulps of the grog. With a thud she let the bottle fall back, her body slumping back into the chair and nearly falling off to the side.

The drunken haze atop her vision drew denser, and denser, until it simply faded to black.


“Cor...” grumbled Sibyl, drawing her tattered and burnt cloak towards herself as she marched along the wetland trail. Her trousers were soaked from rushing through the marsh, her leggings and cloak torn on thorns and bushes she had tromped through on the way. An unpleasant squeak met her ear with each step she took, her waterlogged socks and shoes dragging the ground as she meandered onwards.

She was trying to be optimistic. Her employers had locked her out from her tentative home and employment, and most of her wealth was there as well. Most of her belongings, rather. And she wasn't even paid in advance for the job which had sent her out of Gilneas and all the way to Stormwind.

It was difficult to keep her chin up. But, she still had a coinpurse full of shining coin in her vest. Enough to last her a few weeks-- long enough to find another noble to seek employment under, she wagered. For now though, she was just worried about finding refuge and getting a night's rest-- tonight that refuge was going to be Menethil Harbor, visible upon the horizon through the oncoming dusk.

Any port in a storm, as the saying went.


Sibyl staggered into town in a bit of a stupor-- at first she had been planning on going straight to then inn, then to bed. But given how the wind had picked up, spending some time basking in the warmth of the hearth didn't sound too unappealing. She made her way in, grabbed a warm mug of ale, and situated herself near the fire. The tavern was fairly empty-- a few dwarves carousing at the bar, a human, and... another gnome, which seemed to be crawling into a chair beside Sibyl. She was about her own height, seeming a bit thin (bot not quite as bad as the sweep herself), and had bright pink hair that was on the verge of simply being obnoxious for its shade. Regardless Sibyl didn't mind. She stared back at her fellow patron, looking over her ragged clothing momentarily before going back to nursing her mug.

“Evening there!” chimed the pink-haired gnome, easing closer to Sibyl. The smaller gnome shivered some as she felt the warmth of the other resting against her shoulder. “Care if I join you right here?”

Sibyl peered down, unable to respond before the gnome set her head against her shoulder, just leaning her weight against the sweep. As Sibyl downed the rest of her mug she eased back, trying to address this... peculiar development.

In short, no. She did not.

Before she knew it she woke up to a head of pink hair turned aside her in the inn room, waking with a splitting ache in her head. In fact, the same was the case the next day as well. And the next. She didn't know much about this woman, but she knew that she brought her some sort of comfort after all the unpleasantries which were entailed in her... 'loss of work', as it were. She was smart. Witty. Rather bold, and quick to merriment. There was hardly a single night that either went to bed without a belly full of mead.

The only problem was that the coin was all coming out. Never going in. Sibyl looked for work, but there never seemed to be any takers. Her new companion didn't seem to take in any coin either... or, if she did, Sibyl never saw it. Moreover were the gifts-- Her companion asked for clothes, and Sibyl gave her clothes. It was reasonable, with the winter coming and her only attire consisting of worn rags. Then other luxuries came-- each was 'reasonable', but only just so.

Eventually there was a day when Sibyl just couldn't afford any more. Two weeks or so had gone by without any steady pay and constant spending. They could probably subsist off of what she had left-- enough to find a room for a few more nights, and later an inn in Stormwind. When Sibyl told her new friend of all this she seemed well enough with it, even if it meant no ale that night. The two went to bed that night at peace, and Sibyl once more retreated into her companion's arms for another night.


When day broke and she awoke, the room was nearly empty. Her traveler's bag was gone, as was her coat and hat. Her coinpurse was taken from its place upon the nightstand, and the room was seeming stripped of anything of value that could be lifted off discretely. In a panic Sibyl ran out to inquire about her friend, missing as well.

“She jus' left off a few hours ago, lass.” replied the stocky barkeep. “Left y'name on the tab, by th'way. I hope yer willin' t'pay up.”

“Sh'jus... left?”

“Aye.” replied the barkeep in a stony tone, tearing off a list of dues and handing it off to her. She took it, her eyes widening as she looked over the list of expenses.

“T'ell? I didn--...” she began. Then she fell silent, the gears turning within as she fully began to take in her situation.

“I... I don' 'ave this kinda money, bloke.” she began.

“Then get a broom n' get sweepin'. You ain't leaving without us bein' paid.”

Sweep, O sweep.

Sibyl awoke with a start, falling off from her chair with a clatter. As she pulled herself back upright she held her weary head, spying the nearly tipping bottle of alcohol which she had set at the table's edge. Grabbing it she took another guzzle. One more burst of liquid courage. She had something she needed to take care of. Meandering out from her room with her broom for support she looked about the keep, finally taking hold of the hem of another servant's coat and tugging it.

“Oi... b-bloke. Where's everyone?” she murmered wearily.

“Something about bugs.”

She stared up at him, letting go. Another brief look about, and she found nothing. Without another word she marched back into her room, barely managing to climb into bed to collapse.


It wasn't quite the time to seize the day.