Westfall Blues IC Thread

[Vladdy]

Westfall Blues Chapter One/Two (In Order)

Westfall Blues, Chapter 1

Wyatt hadn't shown up to work for three days. A usually quiet man whom had a love for drink. A farmhand, he hardly had anything exciting happen in his life. But missing for three days? Markuss had to investigate this. So, he set out to the farmhand's house. A simple home. Markuss tried to force the door open, only to find that it was not locked. Odd for a man like Wyatt. Markuss was stunned to find blood dripping from the loft. He slowly ascended, only to have the body of Wyatt fall to the ground, the corpse's face in a puddle of blood. The man's body evidently showed penetration via blade. Markuss, not knowing this, ran home to tell his family members and anyone else who would listen. Whomever would do this to the seemingly soft-spoken Wyatt?

Westfall Blues, Chapter 2

Year 27, September 10: Dear Journal, New family members are coming in what seems like droves. My old cousin; boy hung onto my coat-tails when he was younger. Now? Well, now, he's back, after some time in prison. Let's just hope we find Wyatt's killer with his help. Though a fellow would ask why in the world he's coming back to Westfall. The whole region's gone to hell.

Important Notes: Buy more black powder, Hunt for those walking fish by the coast, Ask Eliza where I put that flabbergasted shovel, take kids hunting with me

Evidence gathered: Some mighty strong perfume near Wyatt's body. This gives us a damned good piece of evidence for whatever Defias bastard did this. Has to be one of those assassins, except wearing perfume.


((First two))

[Nikodemos]

Westfall Blues Chapter Three

“Identify yourself!”

The guard’s command was delivered with a sternness attributed to authority. It was also rather pointless in nature.

“Just did, not an hour ‘fore. Still got meh ol' cell numbers on meh under britches ifn’s that’ll do? I’m Appleflow, just like that’n there.”

“Indeed Sir. He is of relation to the detained.”

The smell of fermenting fruit permeated the cell, drawing Wilson's attention as he strode towards the iron bars for the second time that day. The lone guard had been joined by another, a captain judging by his appearance and Markuss conversed with the later concerning matters that more "civilized" folk might have found personal in nature. After a short tutorial in regards to the wooing of womenfolk, mothers in particular, Wilson provided the news he had came to share.

"Made a deal with them there copper counters ya went an pissed off. Ain't gonna be no press'n a charges 'ginst ya cousin." He settled against a wooden crate and peered about the room, experiencing a strange anxiety in regards to the irony; by all past accounts he was on the wrong side of the cage. The guard captain displayed a suprised expression upon hearing the news and left immediately to inform the presiding judge. The former returned to her post outside the cell, leaving the cousins to consort in some semblance of privacy. "Now just be remembering ta keep that trap a yer's shut ifn's they is come'n back round to 'tagonize ya... an dun be forgettin yer pleases an thank yas." At that, his cousin expelled a string of curses particularly suited to the occasion at hand though, for all his bluster, Markuss was no fool; Willy worried little in regards to his behavior in this matter.

“How much coin is they ask’n of ya?” His reply was laced with bitterness, a deep abiding hatred for those who would name themselves better on account of birth. The effect was multiplied by his untamed appearance and particularly foul stench, and odor that overpowered even the tin pail of mash Willy had brought in the event that his cousin’s stay would be extended. He leaned into the bars, his kinsman following suit,speaking amongst each other in hushed whispers.

“Their kind dun need meh fortune. This here ain’t the place ta be talk’n bout what I got anyhow.”

“So what’d ya give em?” A look of genuine concern outlined Markuss’s features.

“Ain’t the place ta be talk’n bout that either. They asked fer the farm… told em it ain’t fer sale, made em an offer more suit’n ta the ‘rangement.” He backed away from the bars in expectation of his cousin’s fury.

“They asked fer whaa!”

“Ya know ta tear the bread up small like an spread it ‘round even like right?” He motioned to the putrid pail in the corner of the cell.

“Yeah, I know ta tear it up! Ya know meh Pa, Light rest his sole, is claw’n at his grave just us speak’n the idear.” Genuine concern had been replaced by an unquenchable rage, fear inspiring despite the man’s ragged appearance. “Buy meh farm, Sum’bitches. Gonna get meh damned scattergun…” The tirade continued for a few moments before his wind failed him and he settled in to a slump against the bars. The guard returned promptly, her suspicions masked by the standard issue plate helmet upon her head. Willy promptly stood and offered the lass a sly wink before turning back to Markuss. “Ya just do yer time cousin an we’ll have ya outta here in a pinch. If’ns something is ta go wrong, dun forget ta be drink’n yer fruit ya hear.” He turned to the guard and scratched at his beard for a moment in thought.

“Is there anything else before you conclude your visitation?”

“Aye, gotta be stay’n in the city till mornin comes ‘round and I’s a wonder’n. Well ifn’s ya good folk would be ill set with meh stay’n here at this fine bed’n breakfast ya got goin… fer ol’ time’s sake. Just dun be forgettin bout meh in the mornin.” Nostalgia had been itching at his bones since his arrival and under the circumstances; well it never hurts to ask.

“I do not believe my Captain would approve. Can you not afford an inn?”

“Suppose I can at that, though meh cousin might like some company though, as it were.” He thrust his hands into the pockets of his britches in a sullen fashion. “An I’s kinda miss’n the smell.”

[Vladdy]

Westfall Blues Chapter Three Part 2

Markuss' Journal, November 24th

Months since I got out; since I've written in this journal. So much has happened since then. Light, I'm not even sure when we'll get Willy's treasure. The whole damned place is overrun with Orcs, and outside of that, I met up with that priest gal I made a deal with so long ago. New housing for the family, in exchange for toting the symbol of the Commoner's Party. Folks keep arriving on the plantation nearly every day. Folks have had to set up tents in the orchards it's so bad. I really hope that housing comes soon before we all have to start sleeping in the trees. The children are crying near every day, now. Even some of my own grown ones. I can't bear to hear it. I keep hearing prayers for more food, but the Defias have set up camps around the edges of the farm. I don't know if I should... Markuss stopped writing in his journal, looking at the pistol on the table near his bed. He looked back to his wife Eliza; sleeping soundly. Markuss walked over to the flintlock, and set the barrel underneath his chin. The man tentatively pulled back the hammer. As soon as he did such, Eliza rustled in her sleep. "I can't do it." He said to himself. Markuss put the pistol back on the table, and went outside to do something he would normally never do; he cried.

Two days later

Markuss looked around the plantation, eyes fixing on the Defias tents in the distance. "What are you planning, you sum'bitches?" He muttered. All around him, family members stared at the tents with an intense hatred in their eyes. The general store in Sentinel Hill was manned not by Markuss today, but by a far-flung cousin by the name of Hannson. But that was unimportant now; The Defias were on his land. Their land. Markuss looked down at a young boy to his right. The red-haired one whom always seemed to be at Wilson's heel. "Come on then." Markuss feigned a smile. "S'go get some supper afore' you start whinin' n' bellyachin'." Family members flocked to the house, soon to be overflowed with people. Markuss idly shook his head as he saw people wolfing down pickled meats and other preservatives. "Come on n'eat afore' you starve, Markuss!" Markuss immediately nodded upon hearing his mother, and went to sit down at the table and enjoy another meal of jerky and non-perishables that would soon be gone.

[Vladdy]

Spoiler:

(Music)

Westfall Blues, Chapter 3, Part 3

Markuss had long been feeling depressed, tired, and worried about his family as a whole. A mix of emotions good and bad had been plaguing his mind for a long while. Rarely would he talk to anyone about the problems he had. Instead, his last few days were spent alienating those close to him in an attempt to 'sort things out.' In the end, it would hardly matter. As people rushed to the cellars, debris hit the house, and Markuss himself was impaled on a sharpened plank of wood. His last few minutes were spent contemplating his life; what he'd done wrong, how it could be righted, how the Light would receive him. All of these questions he asked.

As he slipped away from his body however, Markuss didn't find the embodiment of Holy energy he had expected. No. Nothing of the sort greeted the man. Instead, he was greeted by a multitude of faces long past, all staring at him. Walking past the throngs of restless spirits, Markuss' father came to him, as transparent as Markuss himself. "Am I dead?" He asked. He didn't feel much emotion; except sadness. Even in this state, he felt awful. "Papa, I've missed you so much." Markuss felt as if he was a little boy again. This was something he just couldn't explain to himself. His father set his hands on his suspenders as he watched his son. "I got some things to show you."

Suddenly, the area around him changed. He saw himself as a little boy, kicking his feet in the river that separated Westfall and Elwynn, as his father pointed to the catfish on his hook. "See that, Markuss? You just gotta chew a bit of tobacco, put a worm on the hook, and add that tobacky." Markuss slowly watched on as the past played out. The area changed yet again; this time, Markuss was shown as an adolescent, doing dangerous and stupid things to 'prove his masculinity'. He witnessed Eliza yelling at him after church all over again. The odd attraction he started to gain for the young woman. Every little detail was there.

His cousin and playmate Willy. All the times they would sneak onto other's properties, throw a raccoon into the window and run away. It all played out. The positives and the negatives in his life. He watched again the miracle of life as each of his children had been born, as he fought against the Horde in the wars. The marriage of some of his children, as they grew older. The time he looked in the mirror one day, and saw the first gray hair on his head. That day, he never felt older in his life. He witnessed his mother; younger, more energetic, and constantly teasing him about his stubborn attitude.

Finally he witnessed his own death, before he now saw a different image; one of relatives and friends huddled in the cellar of the house. He watched along with the restless spirits as the storm finally went further west, as the family made their way out of the cellar, and some even coming home to find it partially destroyed. He witnessed as some began setting up tents for the night. "Go talk to your boy." Markuss' father said. Although he wasn't too happy to leave his father's side, he reluctantly obeyed.

Jebediah was restless, and left the tent he was in; only to be greeted by his father. He considered screaming, but Jebediah had been seeing lots of dead people lately; family members his family never talked about, who would play with him when nobody else would. "Papa?" Markuss struggled to speak, to convey what he felt in this new form. "I Love you, Jebbie." Jebediah reached over to touch his father's hand; only to be greeted with cold air. Markuss looked over to the corner of the damaged house, where his father was urging him on. Markuss didn't know what else to say; so, he asked Jebediah, "You wanna play hide n' seek?" Jebediah nodded, and for an hour, he played with his son on the remains of his home, before his father told him it was time. That was when he was back with the departed.

"You see son, your time isn't over. Your wife's heavy with child, and the Defias you defeated still lurk in Moonbrook. We aren't sure if they'll ever be licked. But you have to get back to livin', boy. Your family needs you a lot more then us sorry souls." Markuss was now shown his own body; sitting in the cellar. "We aren't sure if there'll be a burial, Markuss; or if they plan on putting you back in your body. But one thing's for sure, is that your work's not done. Not in the slightest bit. Soon enough you'll be able to talk to those you love even more; Jebediah's sensitive to us, Markuss. Most young'uns often are. Use him to try and tell the rest a message."

Markuss looked down at the plantation, before turning back to his father. "Papa? Can you tell me a story?" Markuss' father chuckled at this, and said with a smile. "Well, once upon a time there was a little coyote by the name O' Hank..." Markuss listened to his father's ghostly voice, clinging to every word. He knew it was fiction; but he didn't care. He was with his father again...

((Feel free to post, those who were at the event, and those who were not.))

[Geoni]

Journeying alone into Westfall, routine as it was for the young acolyte, seemed unusual. Vaye wondered why, despite the frequent gusts of wind that pressed against her powder blue robe, the atmosphere was so silent. Her visit to the Appleflow’s general store was as crowded and heavy with noise as it has always been. Large as her adopted family was, not much had changed for the Appleflows. She stepped outside of the store to take a breather, only to find herself out of breath. The sky had grown still, a few dark clouds steady in place; a solitary raindrop fell on Vaye’s cheek. At that moment, she sensed a spirit behind her. Markuss’ panic all but confirmed its presence. Before her family and friends set off for the farm, Vaye said a prayer in front of the building, hoping to appease the spirit that seemed to be haunting the humble man and his family.

On the way there, the skies of Westfall blackened, as if Azeroth was on fire and a sheet of smoke suffocated the light. Ghosts followed the wagon, and it seemed as if the storm was playing its fiddle; Vaye felt her heart sink deeper than the torrents of rain that fell upon the earthy soil, because the danger that her beloved friends and family became tangible. Markuss rushed everyone into his home, and Vaye didn't think about his safety in the chaos of the moment. The house, packed with people, nearly blinded her senses when she entered. Her concern was for the safety of the children; she busied herself with keeping them away from the windows and guiding them into the cellar. As people spilled out of the room, she heard a shout coming from outside that seemed too human to be the howls of the tornadic gusts.

Thoughtless within her selflessness, Vaye threw herself into the storm, wanting to make sure the two men made it into the house. The winds seemed stronger than the human spirit at this moment. It sent Vaye and the physician to the ground, and a broken piece of wood into Markuss’ heart. Vaye thought that the sharp pain she felt was from the fear that she just witnessed the death of a friend. It was both this, and her arm being sliced by a mattock flying through the air. She got to her feet and helped the man drag Markuss through the house and into the cellar, mouthing prayers as she noticed that his injuries were worse than she thought.

Her robe was browned with mud and blood, and her soaked hair covered half of her face, but Vaye could see clearly that Markuss was lifeless. She didn’t take the piece of wood out of his chest; it felt to her like something horrifyingly out of place, like something she couldn’t bring herself to touch. Instead, she poured all the holy energy she could produce into his body, draining herself of magic and energy in denial that he was dead, and in anger that her abilities weren’t powerful enough to bring life back to his body. She held him up by his neck, his death confirmed by the lack of a pulse she would have otherwise felt.

She fell to the floor, feeling that she was to blame in her inability. She shouted, calling herself useless. The physician rest his hand on her shoulder and said to her, “Get a grip on yourself.”

She had a grip on herself, her hand holding onto the large gash on her upper arm as she began to realize the source of physical pain. She glared at the man angrily, but any tense muscles on her face would melt from her own exhaustion. Tears filled her eyes, but she was too caught up in her own distress to settle down and cry. Her reaction to the dangers couldn't disassociate her from the emotions she felt at that moment. The physician tried to help her up, asking her to help in healing others in need of it.

She stared down at Markuss' dead body and replied, "Just...give me a moment..."

After taking that moment to accept this death, she aided the physician in tending to the few who were injured in the disorder of the situation, not thinking to take care of the injury that hid under the sleeves of her robe. She dedicated herself to relief efforts long after the tornado disappeared, and in the loss of energy and lack of sleep, her arm became infected. There was nothing she, or any nearby could do to disinfect it. Despite the healing she received, the infection only made her wound worse, to the point where her arm had to be amputated.

After these events, along with recovery, Vaye would work ceaselessly to become a stronger priestess, and a stronger person. Markuss was a father to her, and the second she has lost. She now works to not let anyone else to lose theirs.