Ren stumbled through the portal and was immediately struck by how bright it was. Really bright, actually. Springy and golden. And…singing birds?
“Sei!” she yelled, spinning around to jump back through the portal, but it snapped shut in her face, arcane wind whipping her ponytail around her shoulders.
He had ported her to Silvermoon. That sneaky little…
“Shattrath?” he had said. “Before breakfast? And how long do you mean exactly, when you say ‘I’m going to be gone awhile’? Do you have a craving for Mok’nathal shortribs or is this a weekend cruise around Netherstorm? You just got back from – ”
“I have no idea how long it’ll take, it’s family business.”
“What family business?” A look of concern crossed his face.
“Why does everyone want to get in my face? This is time wasted. Look, just make me the port, I’ll explain everything later. Much. Later.”
Sei frowned. “Were you at least going to say goodbye to Nissa?”
“You know what, forget it, I should have just jumped through one of the community portals to begin with.”
“No, no, I can port you. The occasional ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt though,” he grumbled, spinning up the portal.
“How about ‘thank you’ instead?” Ren had smirked.
“Manipulative flamer!” Ren yelled at the nonexistent portal. This was worse than a game of portal roulette. This was purposeful sabotage. This was like a child getting put in the corner.
Ren looked around sheepishly at the mages around her who had turned to look at the noisy newcomer. “Um, I didn’t mean you…at all…” she stammered. “And the flamer remark, that was…he makes fire…” She was suddenly hyper-aware that her boots were leaving tracks on the rug and that she hadn’t bathed since yesterday. Anywhere else, such thoughts would never even cross her mind. “Um…have a good morning,” she finished lamely, and hurried out of the portal room. She ducked out the front of the palace and forced herself to stand up straight and walk calmly once she hit the promenade and the open air. She hated the effect this place had on her. All she ever felt in Silvermoon City was guilt. She didn’t want to care what these people thought of her, she told herself, even as she tugged her tabard straight and smoothed her hair.
Options for progress were limited. She couldn’t very well ask a random mage for a port without being subject to extreme scrutiny and/or extortion. Well, extortion she could handle – Ren patted her pocket and came to a sudden halt. She didn’t have her money. Further realizations crashed into her brain. She had left her bags, her weapons, and Brock, all in Dalaran. She had attempted to run away to Outland with little more than boots and a tabard. She smacked her forehead.
She was an idiot.
She was also, she discovered, very hungry. Feeling eminently stupid, she found herself walking the backroads to her family’s apartment. She hoped Holian was still in Dalaran – she didn’t think she could handle a replay of last night.
Ren rapped on the door then opened it, calling “Hello?” as she poked her head around the frame. She crept inside her family’s small apartment, feeling very rogue-like – until she was tackled by a large bear.
“Oof!” Half the wind was knocked out of her as she hit the floor, but the bear was completely oblivious, snuffling around her face and licking her. “Bubbles!” Ren sputtered, shoving the huge animal unsuccessfully. “Down! Off! Bubbles!”
A harsh clap from the direction of the kitchen finally brought the bear to attention. Ren clambered to her feet and brushed off her pants. Her father scratched behind the bear’s ears.
“Bear never was your thing,” he grinned at her. “Nice to see you, Renfish.”
“Yeah, well,” Ren said awkwardly. “What are you doing letting her keep Bubbles inside?”
Her father scoffed. “City stables have no idea what to do with her. They were feeding her dragonhawk food. Anyway, it’s only while Nissa’s at class.” He shook his head. “Besides, the old girl makes a prime sentry. You only survived because you’re…” he waved a hand at her.
“Freakishly huge?”
“Right. Gods, girl, eat something. I’m deeply ashamed my children aren’t disgustingly fat. It reflects badly on my business.” He started rummaging around in the kitchen cabinets for leftovers. Bubbles followed as close as she could, hoping for him to slip up and drop something. The bear’s sides scraped the walls of the tiny kitchen.
Ren’s father, Quelis Redglaive, besides being an excellent hunter, had once run the major grocery for Windrunner Village – but since Scourge invasion he had been forced to relocate their family to Silvermoon, a considerably more competitive market. While he was an excellent cook, he lacked the reputation the more established citydwellers had. Luckily, Nissa was the only one he still had to provide for. Well…Nissa and her bear. Ren smiled and patted Bubbles, recalling fond memories of terrorizing the academy with the Silverpine monstrosity. After all, Ren had been the one to find Bubbles first, and trained with her in school – though she supposed that the bear had belonged to Nissa all along.
Her father seemed to pick up on her train of thought. “Where’s your monkey?” he asked, and then with sarcasm, “This place feels far too roomy.”
There were only two people who had ever been completely enthusiastic about her attunement to the Stranglethorn gorilla. One was Varedis, who had called it a sign – something that marked her as truly different. The other was Nissa, who had been about the same size as Brock when they were introduced. Her father, though pleased Ren had finally found a true hunter pet, generally complained of the gorilla being too large and too smelly. But somehow the bear was a-ok.
“Once again dad, he’s not a monkey. And I um…I left him with…” Ren sighed, and collapsed into a chair. “I’ll get him later.”
“Well,” Quelis said, emerging from the kitchen with a plate heaping with assorted comfort foods, “to what do we owe to honor of this – long overdue – unannounced visit?” He handed the plate to Ren and she pulled apart a piece of banana bread with her long fingers.
“…Sei gave me the wrong port,” she sullenly admitted. “On purpose.”
Quelis laughed. “And you still don’t check before jumping through them, I’m sure.”
“Holy crap!” came a voice from an upstairs room, and then a heavy clopping as someone bounded down the stairs. Ren had just enough time to set aside the plate before she was assaulted by a figure much smaller than the bear, but no less affectionate.
“Holy crap Ren!” Nissa exclaimed, attempting to hug the life out of her.
Ren laughed and patted her head. “Hi there.”
“You said you were gonna come back for the parade last month!”
“I got reassigned,” Ren said sheepishly.
“That’s a sucky excuse,” Nissa frowned up at her. “It wouldn’t have something to do with that whole ‘I’m too cool for tradition’ thing? Bubbles, sic her!”
The bear merely rested her head on Ren’s knee, begging for food.
“Menacing! Think menacing!” Nissa exclaimed.
“Nisendra, you’ll be late,” their father said.
“Worgh!” Nissa shook her fist at Ren, then ran back upstairs.
“How’s she doing?” Ren asked her father, as her youngest sister loudly rummaged around overhead.
“Are you kidding? I haven’t seen anyone that popular with teachers and peers alike since your mother was in the academy.” Her father’s face took on a wistful expression at the mention of his wife.
“No chance of her being a perfect copy, she’s got your nasty blonde hair,” Ren pulled a face at him.
“We can’t all be tall, dark, and…whatever it is you are.” His expression was suddenly serious. “Rene, why are you really here?”
“Sei gave me the wrong port,” Ren repeated.
“I sure did,” Sei said, standing in the front door that Ren had left wide open. Cloe peered around his shoulder. “I’m hoping you’ll mention, now that you’re with your family, what family business could possibly have you waking people up at ungodly hours demanding ports to Shattrath.” How he managed to deliver every word in such a genuinely pleasant tone was anyone’s guess. "Good morning, Mr. Redglaive."
Ren could feel her hackles rising. “You’re not my babysitter.”
Her father said, “Yes he is,” at the same time Sei said, “Yes I am.”
Cloe rubbed her forehead. “I thought we talked about this. If you’re trying to make her more evasive, it’s working reeeeeeally well.”
“You left without Brock, without your bow? Really.” Sei shook his head, ignoring Cloe. “That’s hardly a sign of clear judgment.”
Ren backpedaled. “Alright, alright, no reason to – ”
“Point out your mistakes? Yes, that would be tragic,” he said pleasantly.
“Seriously! Learn to quit while you’re ahead!” Ren snapped. “Shut up for two seconds and you might get a straight answer!”
Cloe nibbled nervously on a piece of mana berry bread, the negative vibes making her cringe.
Sei shrugged and made an acquiescing gesture, indicating she go on.
There was no point in hiding it now. Ren looked at the floor, but finding no support there, just took a deep breath and said it. “I found Varedis.”
Her father went pale and sank into a chair, clearly expecting the worst from her tone. “Where is he?” Sei asked. Cloe was cleaning up the bread that she’d dropped in shock.
“He’s a prisoner of the Illidari,” she said hollowly. She wanted to comfort her father right then, she really did, but she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. Her heart believed her own words, but her brain, like Holian, could not ignore the fact that Varedis had fired on them, making her statement a lie. But there was no cell in her body that did not believe he could come back.
There was silence in the room for a full minute.
“Well who needs school now,” Nissa said, throwing her bags roughly into a corner as she came down the stairs.
“Nissa,” Ren exclaimed, throwing her arms around her sister.
“I knew it,” The tiny blonde girl sobbed into her shirt. “The demons took him. I knew it.”
“No, no, it’s gonna be ok, I’m gonna get him back,” Ren told her. She held Nissa’s face in her hands and made her focus on her. “Don’t you dare give up on him.”
Nissa sniffled, and nodded.
“That’s why I’m going to Shattrath. I’m going to get him back,” Ren declared. She stared intently at every person in the room in turn, ending with Sei. “There’s your explanation. Enough reason to make a port?”
“I’d say so,” he said quietly. “But I hope you won’t mind me asking what your plan is once you get there?”
“It’s not very complicated at the moment,” Ren sighed. “I don’t know how to get into the Black Temple, so I’m going to get help from the Scryers. From there I should be able to figure out where to go.”
“Actually, that is complicated,” Sei frowned, contemplating. “I thought you were affiliated with the Aldor?”
“Well yeah, I was, but the Scryers, you know, they’re our people, they won’t go nuts about – ”
“Are you hearing yourself?” Quelis broke in. “Our people? Won’t go nuts?”
Ren pinched the bridge of her nose. “It was a one-time gig.”
“Ren, there’s an intensely bitter rivalry between the Scryers and the Aldor – you’ve made jokes about it yourself,” Sei reminded her. “I swear I’m not trying to shoot down your plans for fun. It’s just, it’s possible that your justifiable zeal to save Varedis is distorting your view of the world. It doesn’t matter if it was just one tour of Shadowmoon Valley – the Scryers have seen you with the Aldor. And the fact that you’re a blood elf with the Aldor is only going to make them like you less.”
“How about some alternatives then?” Ren challenged.
“How about the Aldor? What’s wrong with them?”
“Holian,” Ren said simply.
Sei’s face twisted slightly at the mention of the paladin. He didn’t get along with her any better than Ren.
“You don’t give her enough credit,” Cloe said softly.
“I’ve given her all the credit I have to dish out. I’m out of stock on credit,” Ren said dryly. “What I need is up-close-and-personal Karabor experience. The Aldor are out. That leaves the Scryers. How can I convince them I’m cool enough to join their club?”
“At school,” Nissa spoke up, “you have to be friends with someone way cooler than you for the popular kids to like you.”
“I thought you were one of the popular kids,” Ren said.
“So?” Nissa shrugged. “That’s just how it works.”
“She has a good point,” Quelis mused. “You need a Scryer to get you in.”
Ren looked at Sei.
“I’m flattered,” he said, “but your estimation of my worth is clearly higher than theirs is. Though that’s not saying much. I may be one of them, but I have no clout with other Scryers. Sorry.”
“So…” Cloe jumped in, speaking slowly, “You pretty much just need…a really great date to the dance?”
--- --- ---
Hundreds of miles away in Dalaran, Arille sneezed. He glanced at his teacup. “That stuff really will clear your sinuses.”
--- --- ---
“Metaphorically speaking,” Ren said, a little too quickly.
“I don’t think we’ll have a problem,” Cloe smiled.
“I’d really rather do this alone,” Ren objected weakly.
“You can say that later,” Cloe said. “But not right now. We want to help Varedis too – please let us help while we can.”
“Yeah I didn’t mean what I said just now.” Ren’s shoulders slumped.
“I know.” Cloe smiled and patted her back.
Nissa’s brow furrowed. “I’m going fishing.”
Quelis sighed. “Alright. But you’d better not be going to Stillwhisper. And if you are going to Stillwhisper, don’t you dare let the magisters catch you.”
“Not a chance,” Nissa said, snatching her pole off the wall and following Sei and Cloe outside.
Quelis held Ren back.
“Rene…” he said.
“I’ll be careful, dad,” she insisted. “Really, really careful.”
“No you won’t,” he replied. “But be careful anyway. And watch out for your sisters.”
“They’re not going,” Ren said flatly.
“Nissa will try to follow you,” he said, “and Holian will try to stop you.”
“I know, but neither of them will succeed.”
“That’s good. Though part of me wants to stop you too,” he said sadly.
Ren gave him a hug. “Bye, dad. I won’t fail. We’re not losing anyone else to the Legion.” She paused in the doorway and added, “Oh, and I’d rather you not mention this in any letters to Ainelen. I don’t want to chance her leaving her post.”
“She wouldn’t,” Quelis shook his head. “Travel well, Rene.”
Ren stepped outside into the alley, where the others were waiting with their bags of gear, along with Doogie and Brock sitting against the wall. Nissa was taking this rare chance to interrogate the undead warrior while Brock pulled strands of hair loose from her ponytail.
“…every few months or so.”
“Does it hurt?” Nissa boggled.
“Does it hurt when you take an earring out?” Doogie shrugged.
Nissa rubbed her jaw with one hand. “I can’t really imagine it.”
“Eventually the thread gives out. It’s no big deal.”
“What’s no big deal?” Ren asked.
“Her jaw comes off!!” Nissa exclaimed. “It’s so cool!”
Doogie glanced sideways at Ren. “Oh, she’s your sister all right.” She stood up, bones creaking, readjusting her shield on her shoulders. “I hear the flavor of the day is Shattrath?”
“That’s right,” Ren answered.
“Great, more elves. My favorite,” Doogie said dryly.
If Clothilde heard her, she didn’t react.
Ren turned to Nissa. “You know the safe spot to fish at Stillwhisper?”
“Oh I remember. But that’s not where I’m going. What would Varedis do if he were playing hooky?”
A wistful grin crossed Ren’s face. “Yeah, that’s a great idea.” She knew what Nissa was doing. In her own way, she was giving Ren’s mission good luck.
Sei shook his head. “Please don’t.”
“Invisibility potions?” Ren asked her.
“Check,” Nissa replied.
“Orc mask?”
“Check.”
“Good fishing, cadet.” Ren saluted her.
Nissa grinned, and giving Ren one last big hug, jaunted off down the alley.
“I don’t want to know,” Doogie said, as they all watched her go.
“I do!” Cloe insisted, incapable of containing her curiosity.
The left corner of Ren’s mouth curled up. “She’s going fishing for mage robes. It’s a time-honored Redglaive family tradition.”
“It’s terrorism, is what it is,” Sei objected, checking his garments unconsciously.
“Let’s just get to Shattrath,” Doogie sighed.
“One sabotage-free portal coming up, moneyback guarantee,” Sei said, spinning up the portal.
Ren was just glad that she hadn’t had to convince Nissa to stay in the city. That had been her greatest fear, and she didn’t think she could handle fighting with two sisters in under 24 hours. She heaved a sigh of relief. She certainly didn’t need any more surprises on this venture than would inevitably occur.
--- --- ---
Meanwhile, in a secluded corner of the Undercity sewers, a hunched merchant handed a slip of paper to a slender woman in a verdant cloak.
“You’re getting a real bargain here,” the undead told her, in a creaking voice that might have once sounded feminine. “This information is worth far more than my asking price.”
“You always say that when you’re overcharging me,” the woman said with a delicate frown, as she produced a bag of coins from within her cloak.
“It pains me that you would think such things of me, Ms. Roseflame,” the undead said mournfully.
“Come now, you’re proud of it,” the cloaked woman said dryly. “And I told you before, you can just call me Velwyn.”
--- --- ---
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Coming soon: Demon Hunting part 3 – The Undercity and Shattrath
