--- --- ---
One week ago…
They’d tried to make her a throne, in the beginning. They hadn’t called it a throne, of course. They’d all been so leery of regal things since they’d been freed of Arthas – they wouldn’t even call her a queen, at first. And yet they automatically assumed that a leader must have a giant chair – preferably made of stone – to sit in and ponder their responsibilities. But she refused. She told them to quit being ridiculous and spend their time on more important things, like repairing the elevators. On days ending in Y some idiot orc would fall in and gum up the works with his shredded corpse. As annoying as that could be, it was nice to have proof that Allies making a frontal assault on the city would be completely screwed. Any Allies honestly planning on walking in the front door couldn’t be smarter than an orc anyway. But who needed chairs when there were still Alliance and Scarlets smart enough to use the sewers?
Sylvanas hated chairs. They got in the way of pacing. How did that saying go… “No rest for the angry dead?”
The phrase brought a rare smirk to her face.
It was having a body that filled her with this…restlessness. She hadn’t felt the need for motion as a banshee. She had been still as the grave. A stationary mist. And it had been unbearable. The turmoil in her mind had been no less, and no outlets to vent it. She had felt everything and nothing. Now, with her body back, she could affect the world around her once again, make it bend to her will as a strung bow, used to exact vengeance for all the Forsaken. Eternity was not enough to make Arthas suffer. But it would have to do.
“My Lady, the merchant you requested,” a guard announced.
A stooped, leather-clad woman approached the dais. Her shuffling walk was very convincing, but Sylvanas could see the purposefully curtailed grace underneath the act. Not many knew that Anne Haversham was not just a well-connected merchant, but also an unparalleled rogue.
Haversham bowed low, her sweeping hand nearly grazing the stone floor. “I am honored, my Queen. How may I serve you?” Her voice was cracked and froggy.
“I wish to make use of your extensive network,” Sylvanas said, resuming her pacing. “I have recently been approached by an unfamiliar entity claiming to be a servant of divine purpose.” The sarcasm in her voice was thick.
“We all know how well that usually ends up,” Varimathras commented from the other end of the dais, where he was comparing maps of Azeroth with Sharlindra the banshee.
Haversham smirked. “What would you like to know?”
“She says her name is Meredyth Morgan, previously of Duskwood. But I have no access to any pre-Scourge census south of Tarren Mill. Tell me you can assist me in this matter.”
“I’m sure I can scare something up. Though I must admit, Morgan is something of a common name in the south. Is there anything else my queen can tell me about this stranger that might help me narrow my search?”
“She is an undead priest of the shadowy order and she claims to serve Alexstrasza,” Sylvanas said dryly.
“Very odd. I thought the dragonflights had no interest in current events,” Haversham mused. “And why would the Red Aspect ever employ an undead?”
“I don’t claim to know the minds of dragons,” Sylvanas countered, with a disapproving look. “I only mention it because it may make her conspicuous in any stories that have reached your rotting ears.”
“Apologies, my Lady, it is not my place to speculate.” Haversham bowed low again.
“Report to me as soon as you have sufficient data. You may go.”
--- --- ---
It wasn’t until the rogue had left the Royal Quarter that Sylvanas spoke again. “Will that suffice?”
The shadow priest in question emerged from behind a pillar. “Yes, we greatly appreciate your assistance. The Dragonqueen is in your debt, Lady.”
“That suits me,” said Sylvanas.
“Word of my reappearance should reach the appropriate ears in the Outlands soon enough. Though I am curious – why did you choose that rogue?”
Sylvanas glanced at her with bored eyes. “Because she is a profiteer, pure and simple. And profiteers are very, very predictable.”
--- --- ---
Back to the present...
The steady murmur of a metropolis greeted them upon stepping through the portal to Shattrath. Some described it as the most crowded and confusing city in the known universe, but it had one great charm, in Ren’s mind. No one ever looked at you. They had ogres selling fruit, see-thru dragons, and Dran…Draen…whatevers parading around on some sort of bald mammoth. There were giant birdmen and guys made out of pure energy wrapped in tissue paper and the best part: running the whole show was some enormous swirly crystal that talked to the inside of your head. No one ever looked at a blood elf with a gorilla and said, “Hey, that’s weird.”
Shattrath was awesome.
She’d been to Shattrath before, of course, but the company then had been a great deal more stressful.
“You’ll stay with me,” Holian said. “It won’t do to write father telling him I lost you before we even left the city.”
“I’m not five,” Ren complained, sticking close to her sister nonetheless. “I’m not even thirty. Give me some credit here.”
“I brought you along, didn’t I?” Holian returned, quirking an eyebrow at Ren over her shoulder. “Just…don’t embarrass me in front of the Grand Anchorite alright? I have the nastiest feeling this is going to be the Magister’s exam all over again.”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you…” Ren grumbled.
Cloe clutched Ren’s arm for balance and pressed a hand to one side of her head. “Portals make my head swirly,” she complained.
“You could always walk to Shattrath,” Doogie said dryly.
Cloe giggled. “That could be fun…who’s got a spell for walking through the sky?”
“It’s called the Sulfuron Slammer,” Ren replied.
Cloe stuck out her tongue. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff!”
Ren shrugged. “It tastes like…walking through the sky,” she said, and grinned.
“And liquid Incendosaur,” Sei made a face.
“It tastes like awesome!” Ren said, but behind her Brock did a perfect imitation of Sei’s face. Ren assumed Cloe was laughing at her, and folded her arms. “Are you going to share your evil plan for making the Scryers not hate me?”
“Right!” Cloe piped up, then hesitated, turning to Doogie. “What was it we needed?”
Doogie said in monotone, “One thousand three hundred and forty-four Dampscale Basilisk eyes.”
“Yes!” Cloe piped back up. “I hope you don’t like basilisks because we’ll be killing a lot of them!”
“Six hundred and seventy-two of them,” Doogie amended. “Unless some are missing eyes already.”
Ren felt like her jaw hit the floor.
Then Cloe burst out laughing, holding her sides. Even Doogie’s stitched-together jaw quirked up in a grin.
“Oh thank the Sunwell,” Sei sighed, “They’re not serious.”
“Sort of,” Doogie said, and Cloe kept laughing. “I knew a guy that…well…he had no life. We’re blocking the portals,” she shook her head, hiked her shield a little higher on one shoulder and started walking towards the Scryer elevator.
“Eyeballs?” Ren asked, still boggling as Cloe pulled her forward by her sleeve. “Really?”
Cloe put a finger to one side of her mouth, thinking. “They’re good for…um…vision…dusting?”
If Doogie had proper eyes, they would have rolled. “Sharpens clairvoyance.”
“Clear voyage!” Cloe grinned.
The group climbed aboard the elevator. As Sei tried to explain to Cloe the definition of clairvoyance, Ren took the opportunity to view the wide workings of the city from above while the platform raced upwards.
Ren and Holian stepped off the platform at the top of the Aldor tier, Ren clutching her stomach. The rush had been amazing. “That was better than riding a dragonhawk!” Ren exclaimed, and though Holian shushed her, she led her to the edge, the ghost of a smile peeking from under her decorum. “Tell me that isn’t an amazing view,” Holian said.
It really is, Ren thought. She watched the city reduce in size as the Scryer elevator rose. A pair of merchants were starting an argument over cart locations. Children of many races chased each other through the streets, laughing. A woman in an emerald cloak was mailing letters. And underneath – or maybe inside – the noise of the crowd, was a faint, bright tone, like a bell or a vibrating crystal. It was almost warm – and more of a feeling than anything else. It held this conviction that everything was going to turn out alright, no matter how difficult, or –
Ren stepped off the platform and almost broke her nose running into an Arcane Guardian. Sei and Doogie each caught one of her arms before she could fall backwards off the tier. The sentry tilted its head, calculating. “Maintain order!” it barked, in a prerecorded voice, before turning to continue patrols.
“You maintain order,” Ren grumbled, rubbing her nose, “…the fuck you were doing…top of the elevator…”
Doogie let out a rattling sigh. “Back in Silvermoon. I love elves.”
“No wonder you spend all your time with us,” Sei said cheerfully. He turned a nearby squirrel into a very tiny, very confused sheep and presented it to the warrior. She quirked a withered eyebrow, tossed the traumatized animal aside and kept walking. Cloe rescued it from a shrub and cooed over it as they went down the main promenade.
Regardless of her lack of tact, Ren was inclined to agree with Doogie. The intense saturation of red and gold and manicured greenery proclaimed oppressive elven ego better than anything she knew. But there was something different about these elves from the ones back home. The arcane sentries and tapestries and cleverly disguised magic sources were all in order – no, the difference was in their eyebrows and shoulders. The way they held themselves. The Scryers were all very, very angry. It almost drowned out the bright chime of the naaru. Where below, no one bothered to glance at you, here, their group was scrutinized by green glares as they came down the magically swept promenade. Ren got the impression that it wasn’t her they were mad at – at least not yet. But wait till they found out…
“I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” Ren said as they approached the main building, low enough that only the others could hear.
Doogie coughed a short laugh. “Now she says.”
“You want us to turn around and walk away?” Sei said. “That’ll look really suave.”
“Like we’ve ever been suave,” Ren snapped nervously.
“Maybe you haven’t,” he returned.
“I’m always suave,” Cloe said, theatrically plumping her hair.
“Would you quit saying suave?” Doogie demanded. “Elves…”
“Would you quit grumbling about elves?” Ren returned, breaking into a sweat as they came into the main building.
Oh for the love of mana, Ren panicked, Voren’thal is right there. Holy shit.
And he was currently letting someone have it. He roared at an enchanter’s assistant who was quaking as he swept up broken glass and effulgent powder. The assistant barely looked old enough to get into an Academy, much less be out and fighting demons in the Outlands. The assistant was in the middle of apologizing profusely when Voren’thal looked over and spotted them. For a brief second Ren felt panic contort her face, but then Voren’thal broke out into a wide grin.
“Clothilde! Little Clothilde Fairgrove!”
And Cloe ran up and gave Voren’thal the Seer a big hug, right there.
Ren and Sei’s jaws dropped.
Doogie looked at them both and shook her head. “How did you not see that coming?”
--- --- ---
“I used to cat-sit for Uncle Voren. I mean, he’s not really my uncle, but you get it,” Cloe said brightly. “Muffin never did like anyone else.”
The Scryers had put them up in a small but comfortable room in their tier’s inn. Voren’thal had agreed to formally interview Ren the next day.
“But…but…” Seishougen sputtered. “Voren’thal the Seer!”
“The dude is like, Mr. Outlands!” exclaimed Ren. "Also, Muffin?"
Cloe shrugged.
“How come you didn’t ever say anything?” Sei asked.
Cloe frowned, thinking.
“Dramatic effect,” Doogie suggested, from across the room where she was setting up a chess board.
“Dramatic effect!” Cloe grinned.
Sei ran a hand down his face in exhasperation, and stood. “I can’t take this any more. Doogie do you need an opponent?”
“No, I was planning on just staring at the board,” she said dryly. “All night. Straight on till dawn.”
“Oh good. I’ll take a walk then,” he said cheerfully.
“Don’t you dare,” Doogie frowned, tossing him a king piece. “You’re white.”
Ren cast them a furtive glance as they got set up and said in a hushed voice to Clothilde, “You really think Voren’thal is going to let me in?”
“Oh sure,” Cloe nodded sagely. “Definitely. Maybe. …Probably.” Her mouth twisted. “There’s a chance. An outside one. I mean, it’s not impossible. …I hope so,” she finished lamely.
Ren’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if this doesn’t pan out.”
“Hey, no worries. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
“Maybe you can,” Ren said. “The rest of you guys are…” she frowned, looking for the right words, “a hellova lot more clever than I am. Stuff goes wrong, you fix it, not me. This sucks. The one time I’ve got a problem, I can’t even handle it on my own.” She folded her arms sullenly.
“That’s not true!” Cloe objected. “Remember that time you saved me from getting sacrificed in Zul’Aman?”
“That was Leda,” Ren said dully.
“Uh…oh yeah…um…What about the time Iyo was hexed into a frog?”
“That was Sei that got hexed, and Emilei cured him. It’s not even possible to turn Iyo into a frog. Druid, remember?”
“Oh…I’m really not helping am I…”
“Not exactly,” Ren smiled slightly. “Though now I’m picturing Iyo the Frog, and I can’t seem to stop…”
“Would he have tiny little Tauren horns?” Cloe giggled.
Ren laughed. “Horned toad!”
The girls laughed in unison.
“Hey!” Doogie snapped. “I’m trying to think over here!”
“Sorry!” Cloe giggled, wiping tears from her eyes.
Ren covered her mouth and laughed silently.
“Oh! I remember!” Cloe perked up. “What about that time you saved me from drowning?”
Ren blinked. “What?”
“Remember, all the village kids were playing on the island off the coast, and I fell into the water, and you saved me.”
Ren’s mood immediately sobered. “You didn’t fall in,” she said, brows scrunching.
--- --- ---
That was a long time ago.
It had been a cold and windy morning, with the waves lapping the sides of their large rowboat as several children from Windrunner Village made their way to nearby Shalandis Isle. They ate their self-packed lunch of biscuits and mana berries. Ren had caught some fish while at the island, but Cloe was the only other one who would eat them. The other children held their noses and told the girls that they smelled. Sei had been at home, sick.
The wind had picked up as the afternoon came on, and the sky towards the sea took on tinges of grey, but the oldest of them, Malcheron Sunspring, insisted they didn’t have to leave yet. He was a bully, but Ren knew he was just afraid to get home to his mother. The overprotective woman was going to tan his hide, and everone knew it. None of them were supposed to come out here on their own. At this point, most of the village’s parents would be getting frantic, with all their children missing at once.
At last they all stood arguing on the pier about what they should do. The waves had become somewhat frightening, the light was quickly disappearing, and there was a movement to just stay on the island through the night. A couple of the youngest were crying. Ren just hugged herself and looked from one faction to the other. Why couldn’t they just pick something and do it? Standing out on the dock was getting more dangerous every minute.
She remembered Cloe’s little fists balling up, and the blonde girl stomped over and grabbed the rope for the boat, curls whipping around in the wind. Cloe hadn’t said a word up to this point, but now she piped up in her clear little voice, “Get in the boat! We’re all going home now.”
“You don’t get a vote, human!” Malcheron spat at her. “Give me the rope!”
“We need to leave before it gets worse,” Cloe insisted, undaunted.
“Oh yeah, Clothilde? The human thinks she’s so smart!”
“Human! Huuuuuman!” his cronies taunted.
That’s when it started raining. Lightning cracked overhead, and the smaller children jumped.
“See?” Cloe shouted, as the waves jostled the boat against the pier, “Now let’s go!”
“You can go home by yourself!” Malcheron returned, shoving her off the pier.
“Cloe!” Ren shrieked.
Cloe sputtered and gasped, struggling to stay afloat in the rough water. “Help!” she coughed.
“You idiot!” Ren roared at the suddenly terrified boy. “She can’t swim!”
“I – I didn’t know,” he stammered.
“Cloe!” Ren shouted, pulling on her hair. What could she do? What could she do? The current was pulling her friend further away. What if she jumped? What if she got caught too? Was it stupid to jump in? Was it too late now?
The other children nervously pulled away as Ren panicked on the edge of the dock. “Cloeeeeee!” she shrieked. “Someone help!”
“Ren!” she heard a new voice call, “Ren are you out there?”
“Varedis!” she screamed as her brother’s boat came into view. “Cloe’s in the water!”
He caught sight of her sputtering and bobbing further away, cursed and dove after the little girl, straight out of the boat. Holian was driving it and she deftly pulled it alongside the dock, stepping out to lash it quickly.
“I’m going to kill you!” she shouted at Ren over the storm, and yanked her into a very brief hug. “Get on the boat!” she commanded, turning to the other children, “all of you, right this instant! If I don’t kill you your parents will!”
The other children clambered aboard the small sailboat. But Ren ignored her, still calling for Cloe. Just as Cloe’s strength gave out and she was about to sink, Varedis caught up to her and kept her above the surface. He dragged her to the shore and Ren ran down the dock to meet them.
“Ren!” Holian shouted, “Get back here!”
But Ren was wringing her hands next to her friend’s stiff form as her brother tried to breathe life into her.
Cloe coughed up seawater, clutching Varedis’s arm as she sat up. “You almost bought it, Peacebloom,” he said, ruffling Cloe’s sopping hair.
Ren tackled her with a hug as she gasped for air.
Varedis gave a shaky laugh. “Hold up, Render, give her a little space,” he said, pulling Ren to her feet and scooping up Cloe.
Ren took his free hand and they walked back to the boat where Holian waited in the rain, foot tapping with impatience. Or was that just worry? Ren could never tell.
--- --- ---
“You didn’t fall in,” Ren said, monotone. “I didn’t save you either.”
“Oh,” Cloe said, looking away. “My mistake.”
10.08.2009
Demon Hunting, part 2 - Silvermoon
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.”
--- --- ---
back
Coming soon: Demon Hunting part 3 – The Undercity and Shattrath
“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.”
--- --- ---
back
Coming soon: Demon Hunting part 3 – The Undercity and Shattrath
8.17.2009
Demon Hunting, part 1 - Legerdemain
[One year before the events of Clothilde and the Fel Song]
“You are cute,” Ren mumbled. She even sounded drunk to herself – not the best sign. “You should take a break and come have a drink with me.” Her head was propped up on one elbow and she grinned at the overly-attractive bartender in the Legerdemain Lounge.
His smile was the perfect blend of falseness and authenticity – that was what Ren liked about him. The delicacy involved in being two things at once – without sacrificing either – was lost on many people. But right now he just looked confused. Ren had a uniform history of rejecting flirtation at the Lounge, whether from Arille or anyone else. Something about personal boundaries, or safety, or something. She couldn’t remember her reasoning at the moment. She’d never been quite this drunk.
“You know I’m on duty for another four hours.”
“I can wait. I like it here…no dancing trolls,” Ren said. She smiled brightly, doing her best Cloe impression.
“Where are your friends?” Arille asked, looking amused but still slightly confused.
“Right over there,” Ren pointed behind him at the bar’s stock. “Their names are Dalaran Red and Sulfuron Slammer. But they don’t get along very well. Wait, do you even carry the Slammer?” She pouted, and pushed her empty glass towards him with both hands. “I’m out.”
“I think you’ve had enough, Rene. Is there someone in town that can come get you?”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“No, not necessarily.” He did that half-and-half smile.
Ren could practically feel her sister’s presence in the air when Holian walked through the door. She’d missed her true calling as a frost mage.
Of course, Holian would find her. Ren knew that it was only a matter of time. Maybe she’d planned this without planning. She had planted herself in the very heart of Dalaran. It wasn’t exactly hiding.
“You’re a sight,” Holian said coldly, staring down her nose at her younger sister sprawled across the bar. She looked like she wanted to forcibly straighten Ren up, but couldn’t bring herself to touch her. A self-aware kind of stiffness. A plucked string. The note was sour.
“Mmm,” Ren smiled at her, in blatant disregard of her tone. “I was just having a conversation with the…” she paused, and slowed down to make sure she pronounced the words correctly, “deliciously decorous Mr. Arille Azuregaze, and it was just getting interesting, so if you don’t mind…”
The tips of Holian’s ears were pink. “Come upstairs with me. We have to talk.”
Ren blinked at her, then turned back to Arille and slurred, “She’s so angry all the time! I’d rather talk to you.” In the back of her mind, she was aware of what she was doing. In the front, she was pleasantly numb.
Arille glanced between Holian and Ren, and almost managed to not look curious.
Ren grinned at him and loud-whispered to Holian, “He’s worried, it’s so cute.”
Holian yanked Ren out of her seat by her elbow, declaring, “That is enough!” She dragged her up a flight of stairs, past a shocked woman carrying sheets, and shoved her into the first empty room she found. Holian slammed the door behind her as Ren slumped onto a chest.
“You’re lucky I don’t bruise easily,” Ren said thickly.
Holian stood still in front of the door, breathing evenly, eyes closed. At last she opened her eyes and looked at her intoxicated sister.
“I can’t believe you,” Holian said.
Ren just blinked at her.
“After everything that’s happened,” Holian said, in a slow, calculated tone, “you think the solution is – is what? The hardest drink you can buy?”
“And a pretty bartender,” Ren agreed.
“Varedis is Illidari,” Holian seethed. “Stop making jokes!”
Ren’s head swirled. Her gaze fixed on the intricate rug pattern but her mind was everywhere. “Something’s wrong.”
Something unusual crept behind Holian’s eyes, that Ren hadn’t seen in years. Was it compassion? No. It couldn’t be.
“We’ll get you help,” Holian said, in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “This won’t be easy.”
“I’m not the one who needs help!” Ren shouted. “Varedis is out there somewhere, he needs us!” She didn’t like the look Holian was suddenly giving her – the one that was all pity and possibly selfless. She wanted Holian to make her angry.
“He made his choice,” Holian said, suspiciously monotone.
“No, no, he was lied to,” Ren said. “The Prince – ”
“You don’t know that!” Holian snapped.
“Neither do you!” Ren roared. “Varedis would never – never – goddammit would you get some faith? You’re a freaking paladin! Where’s the light? Where’s the…” She broke off, shocked by the sudden appearance of her own tears. She touched her fingers to her cheek and stared at the liquid like it was a foreign thing.
Holian wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes were glued to the lamp and her face was contorted.
But Ren couldn’t seem to stop herself. “You paladins, Aldor, you’re always talking about light and goodness, but in the end you do nothing. You. Do. Nothing. You parade around Shattrath on pretty horses and point out everyone’s problems – but in the end? It’s the rest of us who go out and solve them. No one actually needs you. I don’t need you. Leave me the hell alone.” Her tears were gone by the time Holian finally looked at her, and it felt much better to be angry. Especially now that Holian was angry too.
Holian’s gaze was chilling. Her delicate chin lifted, but there was a noticeable quiver. “You are beyond my help, Renegdhén.” She turned to leave.
Ren laughed hollowly. “That’s right, about face! Retreat with dignity!” she called to her back, and Holian slammed the door on her. “She’s such an ass,” Ren said, slipping off the trunk onto the floor and holding her head in her hands. “Gods, V, she’s such an ass.”
She fell asleep with a wet face.
--- --- ---
She could practically taste the acid in the air. Brimstone and ashes. The sky cast a sickly citron sheen over everything – the color of her eyes. Kael’s legacy. Oh, what Kael had given them. Oh, the cancer they’d been gifted. The children of the sun, the kingdom of the fel.
Oh, the things Illidan had stolen.
It had been a windrider before, but this time she was gliding through the air on the back of a bronze drake. She yelled at it to turn around and fly away. Fly to the marsh. Fly across the Nether. She didn’t care. She just didn’t want to see this again. Please, please, don’t send me back there. But the drake pressed on, ever closer to the tiered fortress that had once been called Karabor. The stars were burning and falling from the sky, lighting up the platforms by the temple gates. This time, there was no one else there. No one but him. She caught sight of him and yelled at the drake to stop. She yanked on its scales to make it turn around, but its scales were black now, and it laughed at her, a surprisingly high cackle. It flew to his tier and bucked her from its back – she landed in a heap in front of Varedis, and it alighted on a nearby spire and watched intently.
Ren pushed herself up off the ground and looked up at her brother. He was so tall now – when did he get so tall? His upper body was spattered with swirling runes, and the strip of fabric across his eyes was unsettling. “Varedis,” she said, voice shaky. There was a hint of a question in it.
He smiled, and something glowed violet underneath the bandage. “Hey there, Render.” And the twin blades in his hands swung towards her neck.
The dragon laughed.
--- --- ---
She awoke with a gasp to see two startled faces – one gorilla, and another framed in pale blonde curls. Brock put a hand on top of her head, imitating checking for a fever.
“He got really antsy when you weren’t back this morning,” Cloe said.
“My bad, Brock-o,” Ren said hoarsely, patting his shoulder. She swallowed uncomfortably and asked Cloe, “Any chance of some water?”
“You got it,” Cloe said brightly, tripping out of the room.
Ren took the chance to take stock of her surroundings. She was tucked into the bed, fully clothed with the exception of her boots. She was fairly certain of several things – she hadn’t put herself there, she should never drink that much ever again, and there was no chance of Holian ever forgiving her.
She had just enough time to let that realization sink in before Cloe returned with the water. “Good morning sunshine!” she trilled, moving to the window, and pulled back the curtain.
“GAH!” Ren shouted, as the sunlight hit her brain like a laser.
“Oh! Sorry,” said Cloe, and pulled the curtains shut hastily. She looked at Ren downing the water and appeared strangely disappointed.
“What?” Ren raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, nothing.” After a moment’s pause, she rejoined, “Well it’s just, I had thought maybe you had stayed out to get some actual…you know…grown up fun, and come to find out you just got really really drunk and fell asleep. All by yourself. That’s not a good story.”
Ren smirked and then winced at the headache it inspired. “No, no it’s not.”
Clothilde’s brow furrowed briefly, then she asked, “Are you okay?”
“Nothing a little hydration won’t fix.”
“No, I mean – well – you look kind of…”
Ren sighed. “Nothing a little hydration won’t fix,” she said, softer but more emphatically. Cloe looked concerned, but said nothing more. Ren shoved back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. They had such nice soft rugs at the Legerdemain. “Have you seen my boots?”
Both elves scanned the room, looking under the bed and inside the chest – even behind the bookshelf. But the lavish room held no hints to the location of the missing footwear.
“Where did you leave them?” Cloe asked, then laughed. “Or do you even remember? How much did you have to drink anyway?”
Realization dawned, and a frown settled on Ren’s face. “I know where they are. Take Brock back with you. I’ll be along shortly.”
Again, Clothilde gave her a look of curiosity, but did not question further. She left with the gorilla in tow, and Ren steeled herself for confrontation before heading down the stairs herself.
--- --- ---
He was sitting on the couch at the back of the lounge downstairs, sipping on goldthorn tea and looking very comfortable. He wasn’t even vaguely disturbed by the patented Redglaive frost-glare on Ren’s face when she stalked over.
“Where are my boots?”
Arille set down his tea and glanced at her socked feet. They had little fishes embroidered on them. “You’re assuming I know their whereabouts?”
“One: thank you for getting me up off the floor. Two: Let’s assume you copped a nice feel in the process and call it even. Give me my boots.”
“Where are you off to in such a rush? It’s far too early for that. Have some tea.”
“Do not hold my boots ransom to get a sober conversation out of me.”
“So we are having a sober conversation then.”
Ren threw up her hands in frustration. “Yes?”
“That’s progress. How’s Awilo?”
“Good. Thinking of ways to sneak some gnome into your next catering event. I think I’ll assist him in that endeavor. Boots, Azuregaze.”
“Will you be yelling at that woman in my inn again?”
Ren inhaled harshly. She had been the one yelling. Once again Holian was going to come out of this looking the best. “I’m sorry about that,” she said, somewhat subdued.
“Have you resolved your dispute?”
“It’s unresolvable. And if you’re waiting for me to spill my guts, Icecrown will melt first.”
“No. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I just want to prevent another such unpleasant incident. But you should consider confiding in the priest. She seems very concerned for you – and priests tend to have the best discretion in delicate matters.”
“It’s not a delicate matter. My sister’s an ass. The end.”
His mouth twisted into a frown as he observed her. “You’re sure you don’t want tea?” he asked, but Ren was certain that wasn’t the question he was really asking.
“Tea is for high elves,” Ren said. There was a faint odd tone in the half-hearted taunt, and she hoped he didn’t recognize it as mourning.
Arille raised an eyebrow. Then he shrugged, and with a sigh he reached behind the couch and produced Ren’s boots.
“Talk to the priest,” he said seriously, his blue eyes staring into her citron-green ones.
Ren snatched the boots out of his hands and walked out of the lounge carrying them, without another word.
--- --- ---
Priests. Just another sort of light-and-goodness crowd. She knew somewhere deep down that Cloe was not faking anything, but fury was holding the reins today, and fury didn’t want holy light. Fury wanted a faster solution. Ren pulled her boots on awkwardly while hobbling into The Filthy Animal. She waved a greeting at the troll “chef” through the kitchen door before running upstairs to find the rest of her division – well, one in particular. The unmistakable snoring filtering through one of the doors led her straight to him. Ren pounded on the door harshly, and heard a crash followed by a light curse, before the door opened. Seishougen blinked at her blearily. Straw was sticking out of his dark hair.
“You made me fall out of my hammock,” he said sourly.
Ren shrugged. “Put your breakfast on my tab. Awilo makes some mean waffles. He knows I’m good for it – but I’m not coming back for awhile. Tell everyone bye for me.”
Sei boggled at her. “You’re leaving? Right now? Where?”
“Make me a portal to Shattrath.”
next
“You are cute,” Ren mumbled. She even sounded drunk to herself – not the best sign. “You should take a break and come have a drink with me.” Her head was propped up on one elbow and she grinned at the overly-attractive bartender in the Legerdemain Lounge.
His smile was the perfect blend of falseness and authenticity – that was what Ren liked about him. The delicacy involved in being two things at once – without sacrificing either – was lost on many people. But right now he just looked confused. Ren had a uniform history of rejecting flirtation at the Lounge, whether from Arille or anyone else. Something about personal boundaries, or safety, or something. She couldn’t remember her reasoning at the moment. She’d never been quite this drunk.
“You know I’m on duty for another four hours.”
“I can wait. I like it here…no dancing trolls,” Ren said. She smiled brightly, doing her best Cloe impression.
“Where are your friends?” Arille asked, looking amused but still slightly confused.
“Right over there,” Ren pointed behind him at the bar’s stock. “Their names are Dalaran Red and Sulfuron Slammer. But they don’t get along very well. Wait, do you even carry the Slammer?” She pouted, and pushed her empty glass towards him with both hands. “I’m out.”
“I think you’ve had enough, Rene. Is there someone in town that can come get you?”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“No, not necessarily.” He did that half-and-half smile.
Ren could practically feel her sister’s presence in the air when Holian walked through the door. She’d missed her true calling as a frost mage.
Of course, Holian would find her. Ren knew that it was only a matter of time. Maybe she’d planned this without planning. She had planted herself in the very heart of Dalaran. It wasn’t exactly hiding.
“You’re a sight,” Holian said coldly, staring down her nose at her younger sister sprawled across the bar. She looked like she wanted to forcibly straighten Ren up, but couldn’t bring herself to touch her. A self-aware kind of stiffness. A plucked string. The note was sour.
“Mmm,” Ren smiled at her, in blatant disregard of her tone. “I was just having a conversation with the…” she paused, and slowed down to make sure she pronounced the words correctly, “deliciously decorous Mr. Arille Azuregaze, and it was just getting interesting, so if you don’t mind…”
The tips of Holian’s ears were pink. “Come upstairs with me. We have to talk.”
Ren blinked at her, then turned back to Arille and slurred, “She’s so angry all the time! I’d rather talk to you.” In the back of her mind, she was aware of what she was doing. In the front, she was pleasantly numb.
Arille glanced between Holian and Ren, and almost managed to not look curious.
Ren grinned at him and loud-whispered to Holian, “He’s worried, it’s so cute.”
Holian yanked Ren out of her seat by her elbow, declaring, “That is enough!” She dragged her up a flight of stairs, past a shocked woman carrying sheets, and shoved her into the first empty room she found. Holian slammed the door behind her as Ren slumped onto a chest.
“You’re lucky I don’t bruise easily,” Ren said thickly.
Holian stood still in front of the door, breathing evenly, eyes closed. At last she opened her eyes and looked at her intoxicated sister.
“I can’t believe you,” Holian said.
Ren just blinked at her.
“After everything that’s happened,” Holian said, in a slow, calculated tone, “you think the solution is – is what? The hardest drink you can buy?”
“And a pretty bartender,” Ren agreed.
“Varedis is Illidari,” Holian seethed. “Stop making jokes!”
Ren’s head swirled. Her gaze fixed on the intricate rug pattern but her mind was everywhere. “Something’s wrong.”
Something unusual crept behind Holian’s eyes, that Ren hadn’t seen in years. Was it compassion? No. It couldn’t be.
“We’ll get you help,” Holian said, in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “This won’t be easy.”
“I’m not the one who needs help!” Ren shouted. “Varedis is out there somewhere, he needs us!” She didn’t like the look Holian was suddenly giving her – the one that was all pity and possibly selfless. She wanted Holian to make her angry.
“He made his choice,” Holian said, suspiciously monotone.
“No, no, he was lied to,” Ren said. “The Prince – ”
“You don’t know that!” Holian snapped.
“Neither do you!” Ren roared. “Varedis would never – never – goddammit would you get some faith? You’re a freaking paladin! Where’s the light? Where’s the…” She broke off, shocked by the sudden appearance of her own tears. She touched her fingers to her cheek and stared at the liquid like it was a foreign thing.
Holian wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes were glued to the lamp and her face was contorted.
But Ren couldn’t seem to stop herself. “You paladins, Aldor, you’re always talking about light and goodness, but in the end you do nothing. You. Do. Nothing. You parade around Shattrath on pretty horses and point out everyone’s problems – but in the end? It’s the rest of us who go out and solve them. No one actually needs you. I don’t need you. Leave me the hell alone.” Her tears were gone by the time Holian finally looked at her, and it felt much better to be angry. Especially now that Holian was angry too.
Holian’s gaze was chilling. Her delicate chin lifted, but there was a noticeable quiver. “You are beyond my help, Renegdhén.” She turned to leave.
Ren laughed hollowly. “That’s right, about face! Retreat with dignity!” she called to her back, and Holian slammed the door on her. “She’s such an ass,” Ren said, slipping off the trunk onto the floor and holding her head in her hands. “Gods, V, she’s such an ass.”
She fell asleep with a wet face.
--- --- ---
She could practically taste the acid in the air. Brimstone and ashes. The sky cast a sickly citron sheen over everything – the color of her eyes. Kael’s legacy. Oh, what Kael had given them. Oh, the cancer they’d been gifted. The children of the sun, the kingdom of the fel.
Oh, the things Illidan had stolen.
It had been a windrider before, but this time she was gliding through the air on the back of a bronze drake. She yelled at it to turn around and fly away. Fly to the marsh. Fly across the Nether. She didn’t care. She just didn’t want to see this again. Please, please, don’t send me back there. But the drake pressed on, ever closer to the tiered fortress that had once been called Karabor. The stars were burning and falling from the sky, lighting up the platforms by the temple gates. This time, there was no one else there. No one but him. She caught sight of him and yelled at the drake to stop. She yanked on its scales to make it turn around, but its scales were black now, and it laughed at her, a surprisingly high cackle. It flew to his tier and bucked her from its back – she landed in a heap in front of Varedis, and it alighted on a nearby spire and watched intently.
Ren pushed herself up off the ground and looked up at her brother. He was so tall now – when did he get so tall? His upper body was spattered with swirling runes, and the strip of fabric across his eyes was unsettling. “Varedis,” she said, voice shaky. There was a hint of a question in it.
He smiled, and something glowed violet underneath the bandage. “Hey there, Render.” And the twin blades in his hands swung towards her neck.
The dragon laughed.
--- --- ---
She awoke with a gasp to see two startled faces – one gorilla, and another framed in pale blonde curls. Brock put a hand on top of her head, imitating checking for a fever.
“He got really antsy when you weren’t back this morning,” Cloe said.
“My bad, Brock-o,” Ren said hoarsely, patting his shoulder. She swallowed uncomfortably and asked Cloe, “Any chance of some water?”
“You got it,” Cloe said brightly, tripping out of the room.
Ren took the chance to take stock of her surroundings. She was tucked into the bed, fully clothed with the exception of her boots. She was fairly certain of several things – she hadn’t put herself there, she should never drink that much ever again, and there was no chance of Holian ever forgiving her.
She had just enough time to let that realization sink in before Cloe returned with the water. “Good morning sunshine!” she trilled, moving to the window, and pulled back the curtain.
“GAH!” Ren shouted, as the sunlight hit her brain like a laser.
“Oh! Sorry,” said Cloe, and pulled the curtains shut hastily. She looked at Ren downing the water and appeared strangely disappointed.
“What?” Ren raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, nothing.” After a moment’s pause, she rejoined, “Well it’s just, I had thought maybe you had stayed out to get some actual…you know…grown up fun, and come to find out you just got really really drunk and fell asleep. All by yourself. That’s not a good story.”
Ren smirked and then winced at the headache it inspired. “No, no it’s not.”
Clothilde’s brow furrowed briefly, then she asked, “Are you okay?”
“Nothing a little hydration won’t fix.”
“No, I mean – well – you look kind of…”
Ren sighed. “Nothing a little hydration won’t fix,” she said, softer but more emphatically. Cloe looked concerned, but said nothing more. Ren shoved back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. They had such nice soft rugs at the Legerdemain. “Have you seen my boots?”
Both elves scanned the room, looking under the bed and inside the chest – even behind the bookshelf. But the lavish room held no hints to the location of the missing footwear.
“Where did you leave them?” Cloe asked, then laughed. “Or do you even remember? How much did you have to drink anyway?”
Realization dawned, and a frown settled on Ren’s face. “I know where they are. Take Brock back with you. I’ll be along shortly.”
Again, Clothilde gave her a look of curiosity, but did not question further. She left with the gorilla in tow, and Ren steeled herself for confrontation before heading down the stairs herself.
--- --- ---
He was sitting on the couch at the back of the lounge downstairs, sipping on goldthorn tea and looking very comfortable. He wasn’t even vaguely disturbed by the patented Redglaive frost-glare on Ren’s face when she stalked over.
“Where are my boots?”
Arille set down his tea and glanced at her socked feet. They had little fishes embroidered on them. “You’re assuming I know their whereabouts?”
“One: thank you for getting me up off the floor. Two: Let’s assume you copped a nice feel in the process and call it even. Give me my boots.”
“Where are you off to in such a rush? It’s far too early for that. Have some tea.”
“Do not hold my boots ransom to get a sober conversation out of me.”
“So we are having a sober conversation then.”
Ren threw up her hands in frustration. “Yes?”
“That’s progress. How’s Awilo?”
“Good. Thinking of ways to sneak some gnome into your next catering event. I think I’ll assist him in that endeavor. Boots, Azuregaze.”
“Will you be yelling at that woman in my inn again?”
Ren inhaled harshly. She had been the one yelling. Once again Holian was going to come out of this looking the best. “I’m sorry about that,” she said, somewhat subdued.
“Have you resolved your dispute?”
“It’s unresolvable. And if you’re waiting for me to spill my guts, Icecrown will melt first.”
“No. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I just want to prevent another such unpleasant incident. But you should consider confiding in the priest. She seems very concerned for you – and priests tend to have the best discretion in delicate matters.”
“It’s not a delicate matter. My sister’s an ass. The end.”
His mouth twisted into a frown as he observed her. “You’re sure you don’t want tea?” he asked, but Ren was certain that wasn’t the question he was really asking.
“Tea is for high elves,” Ren said. There was a faint odd tone in the half-hearted taunt, and she hoped he didn’t recognize it as mourning.
Arille raised an eyebrow. Then he shrugged, and with a sigh he reached behind the couch and produced Ren’s boots.
“Talk to the priest,” he said seriously, his blue eyes staring into her citron-green ones.
Ren snatched the boots out of his hands and walked out of the lounge carrying them, without another word.
--- --- ---
Priests. Just another sort of light-and-goodness crowd. She knew somewhere deep down that Cloe was not faking anything, but fury was holding the reins today, and fury didn’t want holy light. Fury wanted a faster solution. Ren pulled her boots on awkwardly while hobbling into The Filthy Animal. She waved a greeting at the troll “chef” through the kitchen door before running upstairs to find the rest of her division – well, one in particular. The unmistakable snoring filtering through one of the doors led her straight to him. Ren pounded on the door harshly, and heard a crash followed by a light curse, before the door opened. Seishougen blinked at her blearily. Straw was sticking out of his dark hair.
“You made me fall out of my hammock,” he said sourly.
Ren shrugged. “Put your breakfast on my tab. Awilo makes some mean waffles. He knows I’m good for it – but I’m not coming back for awhile. Tell everyone bye for me.”
Sei boggled at her. “You’re leaving? Right now? Where?”
“Make me a portal to Shattrath.”
next
7.21.2009
Brock
Ren would get funny looks sometimes. She was aware of it. Part of her enjoyed the attention, but part of her was ashamed. A hunter, out of the academy, without a furry or scaly companion wasn’t exactly typical. It didn’t make her arrows any less sharp, her aim any less godlike, her ego any less puffy, but it did cripple her tracking skills. Pets acted as a focus, keeping you attuned to the subtler, more primitive aspects of the world around you. It made you hear the still things, gave you an edge over the stealthy, brought you into their quiet world and made you master of it.
Something snot-faced, cheat-bubble paladins would never comprehend.
Sure, she trained with several different animals. While it was unheard of to enter the ranger academy already aware of your familiar animal, with a little training, almost everyone found attunement very quickly. Seemed like everyone and their grandmother had connections with giant cats or dragonhawks. But that made sense. Those two animals kind of represented the Sin’dorei spirit anyway. It fit her race.
Boring.
The individualists – what few existed – inevitably found kindred creatures among the spiders, bats, and turtles of the Ghostlands. Some even went as far south as Silverpine to discover their spirits aligned with the wolf or the bear. But her instructors frowned upon those, considering their essences base, inelegant, better suited to…other races of the Horde. Ren herself had spent her pet training time with a Silverpine she-bear, a hulking brown shield that would help her catch fish and occasionally steal the berries from her dessert. To amuse her classmates (and to spite her retard of an elder sister) Ren called her Bubbles, and early on she enjoyed the big-eyed looks when she’d pass by accompanied by a creature twice as large as anything native to her homelands. But then the insults came. The inevitable fat jokes, the accusations of incompetency – those went away after a few pet duels. And then some nobleman’s son had to go and crack about her brother’s choice of pets. Ren got a year’s suspension for putting an arrow in his buttocks.
But the bear wasn’t it. She was a sweet but also dangerous creature, majestic and noble – nobler than those prissy cats – but it was just a healthy respect that Ren felt. Not a connection. There was supposed to be a connection. That’s what Varedis had always told her. That she would know. That it was like knowing you were in love, only it hurt less.
But her brother wasn’t around to advise her now, and maybe it was just as well. Having exhausted every council-approved pet short of the exotic and expert-only Draenor varieties, Ren was beginning to wonder if she was defective. It couldn’t be her choice of profession. She was a hunter. She’d always known this. But there was the odd ranger incapable of communing with beasts.
It didn’t lend them to a successful career.
When she graduated the academy, she left Bubbles behind with her family. Her baby sister had grown really attached to her, and Ren had a sneaking suspicion they had another budding hunter in the family. She was crossing her fingers that Nissa was one the distinguished few that joined the academy pre-attuned…and to a bear, well…every time Ren thought about it, a huge grin spread across her face.
“What are you grinning about, twiggy?” an orc in her squad growled at her. “If you want to daydream you can go back to your shiny fairy city. I’m not babysitting defective elves.”
Ren clenched her teeth and willed herself not to snap back. Her squad leader tolerated belligerent orcs, but not belligerent blood elves. Who said racism was dead? So she just flashed teeth at her grumpy squadmate.
Thanks to her…situation, she’d been unable to attain a decent opening post with her own people upon her graduation from ranger academy. She might as well be missing a limb in their eyes. Not that she wanted to hang out with those losers anyway. So she’d applied with other divisions of the Horde (mostly Forsaken divisions), but apparently her race wasn’t the only one that equated pets with worth as far as hunters were concerned.
Petless? Worthless.
She would catch up to Sylvanas. She had to.
So the only assignments she was qualified for were the ones no one wanted. Like jungle duty. Getting hexed by leftover Zul’Gurub witch doctors and pummeled by ogres, hacking through poisonous plants, getting jumped by raptors, sniped at by pirates and overcharged by goblins – oh yeah, Stranglethorn was some prime real estate. At least the fishing was good.
Sometimes Ren wondered if there was a way to have a fish for a pet. But besides the obvious limitations, she’d probably end up just eating it anyway. Counterproductive to a long-term bond.
Her squad leader signaled for them to be quiet and sneaky. Ren could hear drums and chanting coming from up ahead, and silently cursed the resilience of Zul’Gurub voodoo. Despite their stronghold getting thoroughly raided a month or two back, the stragglers managed to hide out really well. Home advantage, and all. Only things more annoying than witch doctors were druids, Ren thought; but that sentiment tended not to go over well among the western Horde races. Her squad crept up towards the light of the bonfire. Figures danced around it, and though it was daytime this section of the jungle was dense enough for them to cast heavy shadows. Along with the guttural trollish chanting Ren could hear a woman’s voice, and the roar of an angry creature. Peeking through the foliage she saw maybe a dozen trolls hopping around a massive stewpot, which contained a soaking but still conscious undead. Ren knew she was conscious because she kept up a nervous commentary on everything the head savage added to the pot.
“There’s a severe lack of carrots here, dude. Do you have carrots? No, carrots aren’t native here, I know. Have you tried carrots? You need carrots. You should maybe, I don’t know, hold off till you get some, it would really add to – fadeleaf? Ohhhhh no hey, I’m allergic to fadeleaf – or I was – do you speak Common?”
They had several living creatures in cages, some dead ones strung up, but what caught Ren’s eye was the massive black gorilla banging away at the bars of its cage. She’d heard about gorillas – supposedly they were all over Stranglethorn – but they always seemed to disappear the instant you caught sight of one. She’d never seen one up close till now.
It was enormous. How could something so huge have so much energy and dexterity? And when it roared she could see its unexpectedly scary teeth. Weren’t gorillas supposed to be herbivores?
The thing was frenzied, beating dents into the bars, and a couple of the trolls were nervously poking at it with spears, trying to keep it from breaking its bonds. The voodoo priest standing over the soggy undead reached into one of the smaller cages and pulled out an animal that seemed to be all wobbly limbs, no bigger than a large cat, with a lot less fur. It made a pitiful squeak, and the gorilla – if possible – thrashed harder.
“Hey!” the undead objected, “No baby animals! Put that back!”
Then the priest pulled out a long knife and held it up, holding high the baby gorilla by its ankle. The other trolls let out a ferocious cheer. The firelight from below the cauldron gleamed in his eyes as the priest pointed the blade menacingly at the caged gorilla, snarled a dark sentiment, then raised it again to the squirming infant in his other hand.
There was an arrow through the priest’s neck before Ren even realized she’d strung her bow.
“Element of surprise, what?” she grumbled, as the other trolls yelled out in alarm.
“Bleeding huntard,” her squad leader snarled, then shouted, “Attack!”
Ren sniped another troll trying to hex one of their warriors that had leapt into the clearing – but that still made the odds two to one in favor of the trolls. She made a break for the cage on the other side.
“Redglaive! What the hell?” someone yelled.
She dodged a spear and kicked a troll out of the way, unsheathing her sword. She looked up at the snarling beast inside the cage, and still wasn’t sure it was a good idea when she sliced open the lock. The gorilla bounded out with a roar, banging on its chest. It grabbed the nearest troll by the neck and squeezed till its eyes bugged.
Ren grinned. “Mommy’s angry.”
“Hey!” the undead in the pot shrieked. “Little help!” The baby gorilla was clinging to her head where it had landed, squeaking plaintively. Ren leapt on top of the cauldron, feet balanced on opposite rims, and began firing volleys of arrows at the trolls battling her squadmates around the clearing. The gorilla roared as it smashed two trolls’ heads together.
“Things still sound dangerous!” the undead complained, her vision blocked by miniature gorilla.
“No need to thank me,” Ren snapped, dropping a troll with an arrow to the eye, but as she tried to twist around, her foot slipped and she landed in the pot, her head banging against the rim.
“Thanks,” she heard the undead say sarcastically, as she blacked out.
---
She was slapped awake by her squad leader sometime later.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how you treat a concussion,” the undead said.
“No, that’s how you treat suicidal idiots,” the orc snapped. “Huntard, I ought to kill you myself.”
“Is he ok?” Ren said thickly, still pulling her brain together.
“The undead is a woman,” he said dryly.
“That’s not what I meant…”
“You mean that thing on your arm? It’s fine. What the hell were you thinking?”
Ren realized something heavy was weighing down her left side and looked at the ungainly baby gorilla wrapped around her skinny arm. His eyes looked way too huge for his bald, wrinkled face. He hardly resembled a gorilla at all.
She blinked at him. “My hand is numb.” He just blinked back.
Ren stood up with a shock, and then wished she hadn’t, because she was now fighting dizziness and nausea.
“Where’s his mom?” she asked, bracing herself against a tree.
“The big one chased off the last couple of them. I’m not sure you heard me. What the hell were you thinking, letting loose a berserk ape?”
“I gotta find her,” Ren mumbled, snatching up her bow, and running off into the disturbed underbrush. The baby gorilla swung behind her, clinging to her shoulders like a backpack.
“I’ll see you discharged for this!” the squad leader yelled after her.
---
Ren stumbled through the jungle, trying to keep an eye out for snapped branches or squashed plants that might lead her to the mother. Unfortunately her vision wasn’t clearing as quickly as she’d hoped.
What was she thinking? Jeopardizing her entire military career for the sake of…sake of what? Something that wasn’t even sentient? Sylvanas would never do something this stupid. Tactically it was a horrible mess. It looked like no one had been killed or seriously injured – barring concussion – but that didn’t negate the fact that she had put her entire squad at risk to save the life of a…
She plucked the gorilla off her back and held him out with both hands, really looking at him.
A really, really ugly baby.
He squeaked at her.
Ren rolled her eyes. “Yeah, ok, find your mommy, yes.” She put him back over her shoulder and started moving again, when the undead ran up behind her, toting one of the trolls’ small wicker cages as she hopped over the underbrush.
“Hey!” she said. “Remember me? I probably look different, you know, away from the soup at all.”
“…Yeah.” Ren raised an eyebrow.
The undead blinked. “Dude. Eyebrows. I never get used to that.”
“I feel the same way about exposed jawbones,” Ren said, and kept walking. The undead followed, undeterred.
“Right. Yeah I just wanted to help you find Mommy Rage and you know, try to make sure she doesn’t kill you.” She fiddled with the lock on the wicker cage as she talked. “Kind of a hexus-interruptus-thank-you thing. Besides, I figure you find this place about as retarded as I do. I know like, the orcs and trolls and stuff feel right at home, but two northern nomads like ourselves – ”
“Not the orcs,” Ren interrupted. “Just trolls. Orcs aren’t jungle guys.”
“Right. The smell’s a dead giveaway.” She made a snorting kind of laugh. “That’s a joke. Can’t smell a thing. Cabelin, by the way. You have a name other than huntard? ‘Cuz that’s all captain dude called you while you were out.”
“Renegdhén Redglaive.”
“…any more options?”
“Ren.”
“Nice you meet you Ren. Hey, aren’t gorillas supposed to be, you know, all about fruit and stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Then what’s with the teeth?”
Ren smiled involuntarily. “I’m hoping it’s just troll repellant. Speaking of – ” Ren looked down at the corpse at her feet. “This guy’s missing an arm.”
“Go mommy?” Cabelin laughed nervously. “Stupid lock…ah here we go.” She popped open the door of the cage and lifted out a large wood frog. “Ren, George. George, Ren.” And Ren could have sworn she saw the frog nod at her. Cabelin set the frog into a protective hollow in her huge iron pauldrons and pointed ahead of them. “Check it out, cave. That looks kinda…homey?”
The baby gorilla squeaked and dove off Ren’s back, awkwardly wobbling its way into the cave.
“Aww, look, it’s home. Let’s go.” Cabelin spun around, but Ren grabbed her bony arm.
Cabelin let out a rattling sigh. “Or we can make sure junior’s all tucked in.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
They stepped cautiously into the cave, Cabelin insisting she go first “on account of the shield thing.” They heard squeaking as the passage wound around.
Ren couldn’t explain it. She just knew it in her chest. Felt it like a poisoned arrow.
“Hey wait!” Cabelin said, seeing the look on her face.
Ren raced to the back of the cave and stared down at the motionless heap of black fur and the ugly little baby that clung to it, and swallowed. “Shit,” she breathed.
The baby pulled at the fur on his mother’s face, squeaking pitifully.
Cabelin caught up and looked somberly at the scene. “Too many wounds,” she said softly.
“Shit!” Ren yelled, and it echoed around the cave as she sat down and covered her face with her hands. Maybe if she'd been faster. Maybe if she hadn't been a clumsy idiot and gotten herself knocked out -
Little fingers pulled her hands back from her face. The baby had crawled into her lap and now he wrapped his skinny arms around her neck.
I’m sorry too, little guy, Ren thought, hugging him back. There was the weirdest feeling, kind of warm and seeping through her nervous system. Everything was sharper…
He didn’t belong here. He was all arms and legs and completely uncoordinated. He didn’t look or behave like what he was. His protector was gone. And she was aware of the correlation.
Cabelin shook her head, a bittersweet smile on her rotted face. “I think you’ve inherited a very clingy orphan.”
“Oh crap,” Ren said lightly, patting the gorilla on the back and standing up.
“And he is uuuuuuugly,” Cabelin laughed as they made their way out of the cave. “He looks like this kid I knew in Lordaeron, puny, annoying kid; why his parents gave him a big buff name like Brock, I’ll never know. Ever notice how the wimpy ones get the badass names?”
“Maybe they hope they’ll grow into it,” Ren smirked. “Like gorillas do.”
“Could be. Oh hey, I wouldn’t worry too much about you know, that whole ‘discharging’ thing. I’m pretty sure I can swing some clout with the big brass if I mention that you, well, saved my life.”
Ren raised her eyebrows. “What, are you like royalty or something?”
“Eyebrows…uh yeah. I mean, no, not royalty. Just vaguely heroic. Cabelin Rhys.”
Ren blinked at her.
“Kids these days…well I’m sure you’ve at least heard of George Ambeth.”
Ren scoffed. “Uh, yes, of course I have.”
Cabelin pulled the frog out from under her pauldrons. “George Ambeth.”
Ren laughed so hard the baby gorilla was startled. “I like you,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh man, you are hilarious.”
Cabelin, however, looked even more serious than when she was in the stewpot. “Why do you think I’m wandering around this Forsaken-forsaken jungle? Trying to get my head shrunk? I’m here to find a cure for George’s…amphibian affliction.”
Ren snorted. “This,” she pointed at the frog, “is George Ambeth.”
The frog nodded.
Ren jumped back. “That’s a neat trick,” she said, eyes huge.
The frog rolled his eyes.
“George doesn’t appreciate your complete lack of faith,” Cabelin said, and the frog nodded again. “Hey, ever been to the Undercity?”
“Just the zeppelin outside,” Ren said, feeling like a complete loser.
Cabelin looked at her curiously. “You are a weird elf. You’re sorry you haven’t seen the toxic sewers of the undead capitol? Man. Ok well, this jungle is tapped out. That was my last lead. Interested in popping home with me? The world of private adventuring is an expanding field of opportunity, you know. Plus people are more likely to talk to an elf than a dead chick.”
“You want me to go to the Undercity with you.”
“Yeah, unless you feel like explaining to your squad buddies that you’ll be toting Brock-o around on patrol. Personally, I don’t see that going over well.”
“His name is not Brock,” Ren said sourly. Stupid human name.
“Whatever,” Cabelin waved a hand dismissively. “What say you?”
Ren's shoulders drooped. “Anything to get out of this freaking jungle.”
Something snot-faced, cheat-bubble paladins would never comprehend.
Sure, she trained with several different animals. While it was unheard of to enter the ranger academy already aware of your familiar animal, with a little training, almost everyone found attunement very quickly. Seemed like everyone and their grandmother had connections with giant cats or dragonhawks. But that made sense. Those two animals kind of represented the Sin’dorei spirit anyway. It fit her race.
Boring.
The individualists – what few existed – inevitably found kindred creatures among the spiders, bats, and turtles of the Ghostlands. Some even went as far south as Silverpine to discover their spirits aligned with the wolf or the bear. But her instructors frowned upon those, considering their essences base, inelegant, better suited to…other races of the Horde. Ren herself had spent her pet training time with a Silverpine she-bear, a hulking brown shield that would help her catch fish and occasionally steal the berries from her dessert. To amuse her classmates (and to spite her retard of an elder sister) Ren called her Bubbles, and early on she enjoyed the big-eyed looks when she’d pass by accompanied by a creature twice as large as anything native to her homelands. But then the insults came. The inevitable fat jokes, the accusations of incompetency – those went away after a few pet duels. And then some nobleman’s son had to go and crack about her brother’s choice of pets. Ren got a year’s suspension for putting an arrow in his buttocks.
But the bear wasn’t it. She was a sweet but also dangerous creature, majestic and noble – nobler than those prissy cats – but it was just a healthy respect that Ren felt. Not a connection. There was supposed to be a connection. That’s what Varedis had always told her. That she would know. That it was like knowing you were in love, only it hurt less.
But her brother wasn’t around to advise her now, and maybe it was just as well. Having exhausted every council-approved pet short of the exotic and expert-only Draenor varieties, Ren was beginning to wonder if she was defective. It couldn’t be her choice of profession. She was a hunter. She’d always known this. But there was the odd ranger incapable of communing with beasts.
It didn’t lend them to a successful career.
When she graduated the academy, she left Bubbles behind with her family. Her baby sister had grown really attached to her, and Ren had a sneaking suspicion they had another budding hunter in the family. She was crossing her fingers that Nissa was one the distinguished few that joined the academy pre-attuned…and to a bear, well…every time Ren thought about it, a huge grin spread across her face.
“What are you grinning about, twiggy?” an orc in her squad growled at her. “If you want to daydream you can go back to your shiny fairy city. I’m not babysitting defective elves.”
Ren clenched her teeth and willed herself not to snap back. Her squad leader tolerated belligerent orcs, but not belligerent blood elves. Who said racism was dead? So she just flashed teeth at her grumpy squadmate.
Thanks to her…situation, she’d been unable to attain a decent opening post with her own people upon her graduation from ranger academy. She might as well be missing a limb in their eyes. Not that she wanted to hang out with those losers anyway. So she’d applied with other divisions of the Horde (mostly Forsaken divisions), but apparently her race wasn’t the only one that equated pets with worth as far as hunters were concerned.
Petless? Worthless.
She would catch up to Sylvanas. She had to.
So the only assignments she was qualified for were the ones no one wanted. Like jungle duty. Getting hexed by leftover Zul’Gurub witch doctors and pummeled by ogres, hacking through poisonous plants, getting jumped by raptors, sniped at by pirates and overcharged by goblins – oh yeah, Stranglethorn was some prime real estate. At least the fishing was good.
Sometimes Ren wondered if there was a way to have a fish for a pet. But besides the obvious limitations, she’d probably end up just eating it anyway. Counterproductive to a long-term bond.
Her squad leader signaled for them to be quiet and sneaky. Ren could hear drums and chanting coming from up ahead, and silently cursed the resilience of Zul’Gurub voodoo. Despite their stronghold getting thoroughly raided a month or two back, the stragglers managed to hide out really well. Home advantage, and all. Only things more annoying than witch doctors were druids, Ren thought; but that sentiment tended not to go over well among the western Horde races. Her squad crept up towards the light of the bonfire. Figures danced around it, and though it was daytime this section of the jungle was dense enough for them to cast heavy shadows. Along with the guttural trollish chanting Ren could hear a woman’s voice, and the roar of an angry creature. Peeking through the foliage she saw maybe a dozen trolls hopping around a massive stewpot, which contained a soaking but still conscious undead. Ren knew she was conscious because she kept up a nervous commentary on everything the head savage added to the pot.
“There’s a severe lack of carrots here, dude. Do you have carrots? No, carrots aren’t native here, I know. Have you tried carrots? You need carrots. You should maybe, I don’t know, hold off till you get some, it would really add to – fadeleaf? Ohhhhh no hey, I’m allergic to fadeleaf – or I was – do you speak Common?”
They had several living creatures in cages, some dead ones strung up, but what caught Ren’s eye was the massive black gorilla banging away at the bars of its cage. She’d heard about gorillas – supposedly they were all over Stranglethorn – but they always seemed to disappear the instant you caught sight of one. She’d never seen one up close till now.
It was enormous. How could something so huge have so much energy and dexterity? And when it roared she could see its unexpectedly scary teeth. Weren’t gorillas supposed to be herbivores?
The thing was frenzied, beating dents into the bars, and a couple of the trolls were nervously poking at it with spears, trying to keep it from breaking its bonds. The voodoo priest standing over the soggy undead reached into one of the smaller cages and pulled out an animal that seemed to be all wobbly limbs, no bigger than a large cat, with a lot less fur. It made a pitiful squeak, and the gorilla – if possible – thrashed harder.
“Hey!” the undead objected, “No baby animals! Put that back!”
Then the priest pulled out a long knife and held it up, holding high the baby gorilla by its ankle. The other trolls let out a ferocious cheer. The firelight from below the cauldron gleamed in his eyes as the priest pointed the blade menacingly at the caged gorilla, snarled a dark sentiment, then raised it again to the squirming infant in his other hand.
There was an arrow through the priest’s neck before Ren even realized she’d strung her bow.
“Element of surprise, what?” she grumbled, as the other trolls yelled out in alarm.
“Bleeding huntard,” her squad leader snarled, then shouted, “Attack!”
Ren sniped another troll trying to hex one of their warriors that had leapt into the clearing – but that still made the odds two to one in favor of the trolls. She made a break for the cage on the other side.
“Redglaive! What the hell?” someone yelled.
She dodged a spear and kicked a troll out of the way, unsheathing her sword. She looked up at the snarling beast inside the cage, and still wasn’t sure it was a good idea when she sliced open the lock. The gorilla bounded out with a roar, banging on its chest. It grabbed the nearest troll by the neck and squeezed till its eyes bugged.
Ren grinned. “Mommy’s angry.”
“Hey!” the undead in the pot shrieked. “Little help!” The baby gorilla was clinging to her head where it had landed, squeaking plaintively. Ren leapt on top of the cauldron, feet balanced on opposite rims, and began firing volleys of arrows at the trolls battling her squadmates around the clearing. The gorilla roared as it smashed two trolls’ heads together.
“Things still sound dangerous!” the undead complained, her vision blocked by miniature gorilla.
“No need to thank me,” Ren snapped, dropping a troll with an arrow to the eye, but as she tried to twist around, her foot slipped and she landed in the pot, her head banging against the rim.
“Thanks,” she heard the undead say sarcastically, as she blacked out.
---
She was slapped awake by her squad leader sometime later.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how you treat a concussion,” the undead said.
“No, that’s how you treat suicidal idiots,” the orc snapped. “Huntard, I ought to kill you myself.”
“Is he ok?” Ren said thickly, still pulling her brain together.
“The undead is a woman,” he said dryly.
“That’s not what I meant…”
“You mean that thing on your arm? It’s fine. What the hell were you thinking?”
Ren realized something heavy was weighing down her left side and looked at the ungainly baby gorilla wrapped around her skinny arm. His eyes looked way too huge for his bald, wrinkled face. He hardly resembled a gorilla at all.
She blinked at him. “My hand is numb.” He just blinked back.
Ren stood up with a shock, and then wished she hadn’t, because she was now fighting dizziness and nausea.
“Where’s his mom?” she asked, bracing herself against a tree.
“The big one chased off the last couple of them. I’m not sure you heard me. What the hell were you thinking, letting loose a berserk ape?”
“I gotta find her,” Ren mumbled, snatching up her bow, and running off into the disturbed underbrush. The baby gorilla swung behind her, clinging to her shoulders like a backpack.
“I’ll see you discharged for this!” the squad leader yelled after her.
---
Ren stumbled through the jungle, trying to keep an eye out for snapped branches or squashed plants that might lead her to the mother. Unfortunately her vision wasn’t clearing as quickly as she’d hoped.
What was she thinking? Jeopardizing her entire military career for the sake of…sake of what? Something that wasn’t even sentient? Sylvanas would never do something this stupid. Tactically it was a horrible mess. It looked like no one had been killed or seriously injured – barring concussion – but that didn’t negate the fact that she had put her entire squad at risk to save the life of a…
She plucked the gorilla off her back and held him out with both hands, really looking at him.
A really, really ugly baby.
He squeaked at her.
Ren rolled her eyes. “Yeah, ok, find your mommy, yes.” She put him back over her shoulder and started moving again, when the undead ran up behind her, toting one of the trolls’ small wicker cages as she hopped over the underbrush.
“Hey!” she said. “Remember me? I probably look different, you know, away from the soup at all.”
“…Yeah.” Ren raised an eyebrow.
The undead blinked. “Dude. Eyebrows. I never get used to that.”
“I feel the same way about exposed jawbones,” Ren said, and kept walking. The undead followed, undeterred.
“Right. Yeah I just wanted to help you find Mommy Rage and you know, try to make sure she doesn’t kill you.” She fiddled with the lock on the wicker cage as she talked. “Kind of a hexus-interruptus-thank-you thing. Besides, I figure you find this place about as retarded as I do. I know like, the orcs and trolls and stuff feel right at home, but two northern nomads like ourselves – ”
“Not the orcs,” Ren interrupted. “Just trolls. Orcs aren’t jungle guys.”
“Right. The smell’s a dead giveaway.” She made a snorting kind of laugh. “That’s a joke. Can’t smell a thing. Cabelin, by the way. You have a name other than huntard? ‘Cuz that’s all captain dude called you while you were out.”
“Renegdhén Redglaive.”
“…any more options?”
“Ren.”
“Nice you meet you Ren. Hey, aren’t gorillas supposed to be, you know, all about fruit and stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Then what’s with the teeth?”
Ren smiled involuntarily. “I’m hoping it’s just troll repellant. Speaking of – ” Ren looked down at the corpse at her feet. “This guy’s missing an arm.”
“Go mommy?” Cabelin laughed nervously. “Stupid lock…ah here we go.” She popped open the door of the cage and lifted out a large wood frog. “Ren, George. George, Ren.” And Ren could have sworn she saw the frog nod at her. Cabelin set the frog into a protective hollow in her huge iron pauldrons and pointed ahead of them. “Check it out, cave. That looks kinda…homey?”
The baby gorilla squeaked and dove off Ren’s back, awkwardly wobbling its way into the cave.
“Aww, look, it’s home. Let’s go.” Cabelin spun around, but Ren grabbed her bony arm.
Cabelin let out a rattling sigh. “Or we can make sure junior’s all tucked in.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
They stepped cautiously into the cave, Cabelin insisting she go first “on account of the shield thing.” They heard squeaking as the passage wound around.
Ren couldn’t explain it. She just knew it in her chest. Felt it like a poisoned arrow.
“Hey wait!” Cabelin said, seeing the look on her face.
Ren raced to the back of the cave and stared down at the motionless heap of black fur and the ugly little baby that clung to it, and swallowed. “Shit,” she breathed.
The baby pulled at the fur on his mother’s face, squeaking pitifully.
Cabelin caught up and looked somberly at the scene. “Too many wounds,” she said softly.
“Shit!” Ren yelled, and it echoed around the cave as she sat down and covered her face with her hands. Maybe if she'd been faster. Maybe if she hadn't been a clumsy idiot and gotten herself knocked out -
Little fingers pulled her hands back from her face. The baby had crawled into her lap and now he wrapped his skinny arms around her neck.
I’m sorry too, little guy, Ren thought, hugging him back. There was the weirdest feeling, kind of warm and seeping through her nervous system. Everything was sharper…
He didn’t belong here. He was all arms and legs and completely uncoordinated. He didn’t look or behave like what he was. His protector was gone. And she was aware of the correlation.
Cabelin shook her head, a bittersweet smile on her rotted face. “I think you’ve inherited a very clingy orphan.”
“Oh crap,” Ren said lightly, patting the gorilla on the back and standing up.
“And he is uuuuuuugly,” Cabelin laughed as they made their way out of the cave. “He looks like this kid I knew in Lordaeron, puny, annoying kid; why his parents gave him a big buff name like Brock, I’ll never know. Ever notice how the wimpy ones get the badass names?”
“Maybe they hope they’ll grow into it,” Ren smirked. “Like gorillas do.”
“Could be. Oh hey, I wouldn’t worry too much about you know, that whole ‘discharging’ thing. I’m pretty sure I can swing some clout with the big brass if I mention that you, well, saved my life.”
Ren raised her eyebrows. “What, are you like royalty or something?”
“Eyebrows…uh yeah. I mean, no, not royalty. Just vaguely heroic. Cabelin Rhys.”
Ren blinked at her.
“Kids these days…well I’m sure you’ve at least heard of George Ambeth.”
Ren scoffed. “Uh, yes, of course I have.”
Cabelin pulled the frog out from under her pauldrons. “George Ambeth.”
Ren laughed so hard the baby gorilla was startled. “I like you,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh man, you are hilarious.”
Cabelin, however, looked even more serious than when she was in the stewpot. “Why do you think I’m wandering around this Forsaken-forsaken jungle? Trying to get my head shrunk? I’m here to find a cure for George’s…amphibian affliction.”
Ren snorted. “This,” she pointed at the frog, “is George Ambeth.”
The frog nodded.
Ren jumped back. “That’s a neat trick,” she said, eyes huge.
The frog rolled his eyes.
“George doesn’t appreciate your complete lack of faith,” Cabelin said, and the frog nodded again. “Hey, ever been to the Undercity?”
“Just the zeppelin outside,” Ren said, feeling like a complete loser.
Cabelin looked at her curiously. “You are a weird elf. You’re sorry you haven’t seen the toxic sewers of the undead capitol? Man. Ok well, this jungle is tapped out. That was my last lead. Interested in popping home with me? The world of private adventuring is an expanding field of opportunity, you know. Plus people are more likely to talk to an elf than a dead chick.”
“You want me to go to the Undercity with you.”
“Yeah, unless you feel like explaining to your squad buddies that you’ll be toting Brock-o around on patrol. Personally, I don’t see that going over well.”
“His name is not Brock,” Ren said sourly. Stupid human name.
“Whatever,” Cabelin waved a hand dismissively. “What say you?”
Ren's shoulders drooped. “Anything to get out of this freaking jungle.”
7.20.2009
Family
Ren comes from a largish family, and grew up in the Ghostlands, on the coast. The Redglaives were not the most affluent family in the area, but were fiercely proud of their status as the major grocery for Windrunner Village. While most of the children have followed their hunter parents, two of the girls have rejected their humble origins in exchange for the more typical, elegant lifestyle of the magical elite. Their mother was killed during the Scourge invasion.
Varedis Redglaive
The eldest and the only son, Varedis was an extremely talented hunter and held his parents' only hope for extending the family name. He taught Ren most of what she knows, and she idolized him nearly as highly as Sylvanas Windrunner. To the family's shame, Varedis was lured in by Prince Kael'thas's promises of power in the Outlands, and on his orders, was sent to train as a demon hunter under Illidan. While flying through Shadowmoon Valley scouting for the Aldor, Ren and Holian spotted him at the Black Temple, and were fired upon by Varedis's orders. The sisters had a falling out when discussing whether or not Varedis had actually recognized them. Ren later returned with the Scryers to try and "save" him, but was unsuccessful. He is currently presumed dead. Ren still believes that he was tricked some way, and could never have willingly chosen that life. Holian is less hopeful - though in her words "less blind."
Varedis in lore
Holian Redglaive
The eldest daughter, Holian has devoted herself to the care and corralling of her sisters, with little to no success. Holian subscribes to her grandmother's worldview, which is in line with the Silvermoon elite. To her great frustration, she has not been able to convince her siblings to abandon the "low" lifestyle of their parents - being a part of the nature that surrounds them, rather than superior, impartial observers. Holian snubs hunters entirely, and has become a high-ranking paladin serving directly under Lor'themar Theron, and has been affiliated with the Aldor at points. With Ren and Ainelen out on their own, and their mother dead, Holian now devotes all her energies trying to push Nissa towards magical pursuits.
Renegdhén Redglaive
The middle child. Ren idolizes Sylvanas Windrunner, despite her transformation, and her brother Varedis. She had a falling out with Holian over the sighting of Varedis at the Black Temple, and has not spoken to her since. Ren has transferred her anger with Holian to the entire paladin class, but truthfully she's always found paladins annoying - an extension of the old rivalry between the two classes. She supports Ainelen in her pursuits but gets along best with Nissa. Though she claims to find druids annoying, the annoyance is rooted in admiration. She is obsessed with fishing, and as a consequence has learned to be an excellent cook. She sometimes runs errands for the "chef" of The Filthy Animal in Dalaran, which is how she's gotten to know the Legerdemain's owner, Arille Azuregaze. Apparently, she's incapable of flirting unless intoxicated.
Ainelen Redglaive
Quiet and antisocial. Ainelen has taken up the profession of rogue to capitalize on her natural wallflower abilities. None of her siblings hear much from her these days.
Nisendra Redglaive
Nissa is something of a hunter prodigy, though still too young to enter the academy. While their father and Ren are exceedingly pleased by this, their father harbors a certain fear, as Varedis was the very same way as a child. Nissa has a pet bear named Bubbles, which Ren trained with while she was in the academy.
Varedis Redglaive
The eldest and the only son, Varedis was an extremely talented hunter and held his parents' only hope for extending the family name. He taught Ren most of what she knows, and she idolized him nearly as highly as Sylvanas Windrunner. To the family's shame, Varedis was lured in by Prince Kael'thas's promises of power in the Outlands, and on his orders, was sent to train as a demon hunter under Illidan. While flying through Shadowmoon Valley scouting for the Aldor, Ren and Holian spotted him at the Black Temple, and were fired upon by Varedis's orders. The sisters had a falling out when discussing whether or not Varedis had actually recognized them. Ren later returned with the Scryers to try and "save" him, but was unsuccessful. He is currently presumed dead. Ren still believes that he was tricked some way, and could never have willingly chosen that life. Holian is less hopeful - though in her words "less blind."
Varedis in lore
Holian Redglaive
The eldest daughter, Holian has devoted herself to the care and corralling of her sisters, with little to no success. Holian subscribes to her grandmother's worldview, which is in line with the Silvermoon elite. To her great frustration, she has not been able to convince her siblings to abandon the "low" lifestyle of their parents - being a part of the nature that surrounds them, rather than superior, impartial observers. Holian snubs hunters entirely, and has become a high-ranking paladin serving directly under Lor'themar Theron, and has been affiliated with the Aldor at points. With Ren and Ainelen out on their own, and their mother dead, Holian now devotes all her energies trying to push Nissa towards magical pursuits.
Renegdhén Redglaive
The middle child. Ren idolizes Sylvanas Windrunner, despite her transformation, and her brother Varedis. She had a falling out with Holian over the sighting of Varedis at the Black Temple, and has not spoken to her since. Ren has transferred her anger with Holian to the entire paladin class, but truthfully she's always found paladins annoying - an extension of the old rivalry between the two classes. She supports Ainelen in her pursuits but gets along best with Nissa. Though she claims to find druids annoying, the annoyance is rooted in admiration. She is obsessed with fishing, and as a consequence has learned to be an excellent cook. She sometimes runs errands for the "chef" of The Filthy Animal in Dalaran, which is how she's gotten to know the Legerdemain's owner, Arille Azuregaze. Apparently, she's incapable of flirting unless intoxicated.
Ainelen Redglaive
Quiet and antisocial. Ainelen has taken up the profession of rogue to capitalize on her natural wallflower abilities. None of her siblings hear much from her these days.
Nisendra Redglaive
Nissa is something of a hunter prodigy, though still too young to enter the academy. While their father and Ren are exceedingly pleased by this, their father harbors a certain fear, as Varedis was the very same way as a child. Nissa has a pet bear named Bubbles, which Ren trained with while she was in the academy.
7.19.2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)