Archive for January, 2011

So, we were working on a shared story tonight.

And Fy got distracted and so Verdus decided to write the end of the story by himself.

And then the paladins exploded. There were gooey bits all over the place. Several of them landed on Fenniel and Ambika. Ambika was merely somewhat disturbed by the gruesome rain. Fenniel, being Fenniel, flipped the @#$% out. “OH GOD! OH NO! OH GOD! THIS IS BAD! I’M COVERED IN PALADIN! GET IT OFF!” And then Fenniel fainted. But then Cuddles appeared! Yes, Cuddles, the devilsaur, magically appeared and started to clean her loving master.

And that’s how Cuddles the devilsaur gained a taste for the blood of elves. It’s said that the remainder of the sin’dorei population was extinguished in the next seven hours and forty-eight minutes. Nobody’s quite sure how a lizard that large managed to work herself up to such an enormous, sound-barrier shattering speed, but it totally happened, fo’ real realz.


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Dorri did not look up as the door to Keltyr’s office opened and closed. The thought of Kel made her angry, so she put down her sculpting tools to prevent marring the jade parrot she was carving. She did her best to ignore her lover, until he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. Her snarl and retaliation were stalled by his passionate kiss. Before she could reciprocate, Keltyr pulled back, releasing her hair.

“Get out of here.”

She rose to her feet, scowling at him. “What the hell?” He was kicking her out? She was not going to leave, even if he was being an ass.

“I’ve been summoned to Lady Liadrin’s presence immediately.” His voice was equal parts derisive and angry. Keltyr turned away from her and started armoring up.

“Hells.” Dorri got up, shed her civies and started pulling on her padding. Without waiting for him to ask, She tightened the straps on Kel’s armor. He did the same for her.

“Two of Vranesh’s handpicked drones are out front, if you slip out through the courtyard…”

“I’m going with you.” She grabbed the sword he had crafted for her, sheathing it behind her back so the prominent phoenix hilt showed above her shoulder.

“Dorri,” He started with exasperation, but before he could even say that he was going to do this on his own, she grabbed his head and pulled him into a kiss just as full of emotion as the one he had greeted her with.

“I go with you.” She told him, pulling on her gauntlets. When he looked about to argue again, she punched him in the shoulder, ignoring the sound of plate against plate or the pain that shot through her knuckles. “because I want to. My mind, my life, my decision.”

“At least you’re only wearing a helm.” His smile was only a ghost of mirth.

As they left their room, she spoke softly, “It could have nothing to do with it.”

“It could, but then why send the honor guard?” Keltyr was right, of course. There was only one reason for the summons. They had both known this was coming for weeks.

“The Light is benevolent. The Light is strong.” Dorri told him, making the Light come to her call and filling her.

Keltyr did the same as they walked down the long corridor that lead to the front door of the chapter house. “The Sin’dorei are strong, and the Light is our Strength.” He recited the next line of the Order’s motto.

“So shall we bend it to our will.” Together they opened the double doors that led out into the bazaar.

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Davien wrote this chat log up for me. I’ll put more of these up over the rest of the week as I work on the story for Keltyr and Dorri.

“Promise you won’t light me on fire,” Pill said a week ago, before confessing not only to working with Canthos, but also to having saved as nippet of Ahka’s deadly plagueblossom.

“Promise you won’t yell,” Pill said three days ago, after she met with Bittertongue and two of the people she’d crossed paths, blades and spells with on thatjob for Canthos.

“Promise you won’t come any closer,” Pill said now, as Davien climbed off her warhorse. The shorter woman was rambling, her words stumbling over one another as they spilled from her lips. She spoke of HIM, always HIM, always watching, and she wouldn’t give him a name, not beyond HIM.

This wasn’t her Pill; the Corspilla she knew was sometimes caustic, often angry, but never… never mad.

“So angry, and he doesn’t want a queen,” she ranted. “Only slaves. Thought I could be me, out here, but I still see HIM! Got no eyes! Still see HIM! And whispers – ” her hands flailed about.

Davien went pale. The Lich King? What other “HIM” is there? “Y’… y’hear him again?”

“YES! All the time. One minute, I’m just doing stuff…normal stuff. Next minute…collecting things, motes and herbs. Can’t make it all myself.” Her face turned slightly away. “Maybe soon, I will. When I stop fighting…”

Davien blinked at her. …”Got no eyes?” Did she just say…? Those weren’t tears coming from beneath the leather straps the other mage used to cover her eyes. It was ichor and blood. “Oh, Pill…”

“So confused. Don’t want you to be my Mira.”

“Iwon’t, sweetling…” Pill had never forgiven Yva for Mira’s death. No one had, except Davien herself. She’d stayed the Eye’s hand when they called for Yva’s punishment; far too many of them would have tried killing the ice mage, something Yva insisted couldn’t be done. “Find a way, Davien,” she’d said. “Find a way to kill me.”

Pill continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Birdbrain knocked over the stand with the beaker on it. He was chasin’ a bug. It all spilled.. on the ground and on me. And then… I saw HIM! Big as life. And he saw me. He did.”

“The stand with y’r plaguebloom?”

“No, not the plant… Was testing the thing Bricu gave me. Thought I knew what it was. Was so sure.”

“His dust? Made ‘ee hear the Lich King?”

“And see him… and I think dance for him too.. Sometimes it’s louder than whispers.”

Davien gritted her teeth. What have ‘ee brought upon us, Bittertongue? The first time she’d ever seen him was at Sorrow Pass, driving a band of orcs up the slope – a force that turned the tide of the day’s battle. They hadn’t spoken out there on the field; if he remembered her from the fighting, he’d never said. She’d been one volunteer under Narokor’s command; there was no reason she’d have stood out. Yet,whether or not he recognized her, she recognized him, and every time their paths had crossed, she’d looked upon him as a brother in arms. But now… He’s meddlin’ with things the same as Uthas. He can’t be that great a fool. “We need to get ‘ee cleansed,” she said, focusing on Pill once more.

“No…just stay away from me.”

“Oh,and what? Let ‘ee go back t’what y’were before Sylvanas? I think not. I’m not losin’ another t’madness.” Davien advanced a step,pebbles skittering down the slope beneath her soft-soled boots.

“Can’t stop HIM.” Pill glanced about like she might flee.

Shestopped moving, tensed to freeze Pill to the ground, if she had to. “Y’can. Y’r will was strong enough t’throw off the voice once. Y’cando it again.”

Corspilla looked over her shoulder, towards Area52. “Perfect place down there. No one would think of the plague at first there. Not out here. Right under the Legion’s pretty nose.”

“Y’re not bringin’ plague.”

The other woman turned around to look. On a normal day, she had to crane her neck a bit to look up at Davien. She had to tilt it even more now that Davien was upslope. “I can.”


“Want to.” Her smile grew insouciant, baiting.

“Y’bloody well won’t,” Davien growled, feeling the heat bloom in her palms.

Pill must have sensed it. “Burn me? Will you do that then?” She turned back toward the city, weighing. “I thought we were friends.”

Davien forced the heat away. “If it comes t’that, I will.”

“Might just. Pretty pretty Davien. A nice cloak and you could slip into Stormwind for me, speak to the right people, get what i need.”

“I’ll do no such thing.” She paused and looked at her friend. “Pill? Am I even talkin’ to ‘ee now?”

“Sometimes,” said Pill, simply. “Don’t know.”

“Y”re no plaguebringer.” Pill twitched at the title; Davien forged on. “Y’wouldn’t do it, not by choice.”

“Don’t want to be, most of the time. Just scared.” She sat down in a saggy lump. “But at the same time, I want it. Want it so bad… I never wanted things before.” She paused, musing. “Last time, it was all mindless ravaging. Eat and rest and eat again.”

“What part is it y’want?” Davien wanted to reach out and pat her. Instead, she could only sit again, as close as she dared without spooking Pill.

“Everyone all together…all united. It’s almost appealing. Almost.”

“Y’think it’d stay that way?” She spat to the side. “He’d turn us on one another and have us tear ourselves apart.”

Pill twitched again, the corners of her smile twisting. “No, we’d be his army. You, me, others…powerful. Fight the Legion, take our revenge. Or his…HIS revenge.”

“Aye,” Davien’s voice was dark. “His, not ours. Nothin’d ever be ours again. Think on it. Y’were a slave once. Takin’ that, y’d be one again. Only this time,y’d know it.”

“Darkness. Why you think I’m scared? Darkness.. why you think I am scared? But sometimes, it doesn’t seemso bad.” Rashona’s voice came over the stones, greeting the Eye, and Pill looked faraway. “I hear kitty voice and I think she woulld make a good soldier, and I don’t want to think that. And Gharr…. Him.. I hear his voice and I want to burn him.. or turn him. Use the legion’s tool against them.”

“We’ll find a way t’make ‘ee better, Pill, I promise.”

“You find out.. Find out where this comes from.”

“Aye. Bittertongue has some explainin’ t’do.” She was already composing the letter in her head, but all thoughts of it scattered when Pill reached up to rub at her eyes. Davien had noticed the ichor earlier, but the chance to ask hadn’t presented itself. “What have y’done t’y’rself?”

“Aye. Y’r face. Were y’in a fight?”

“Been fighting for days!” She sounded exasperated, as if Davien hadn’t listened to a word she’d said. “Fighting him. Tried not to see,couldn’t close my eyes. Tried to not see, nothing worked. Don’t need eyes to see HIM.” She grinned as Davien startled. “Wonder if I pulled out my brain if I would still see.”

“Take…take those things off,” said Davien, her throat gone dry.

“Not pretty… I never was, not even before the scourge. Now.. well.” Corspilla reached behind her head and unleashed the straps from ove rher face. “Nothing to stop HIM.”

Davien choked back a sob. “Oh…oh sweetling, no…” Propelled by pity and fear, she crawled forward; Pill recoiled at the sound of skin and silk on stone, coming closer.


“Y’re not goin’ t’hurt me. Let me see.” She tried on the voice she’d croon to Kyree with when the girl’s imagination created monsters in her bedroom. It didn’t work on the Forsaken.

Neither had heard Rashona appear behind them, one moment a splendid bird, the next a lion from the Plains of Mulgore. The druidess purred like a kitten. “Davien! I…was hoping to see you.”

“Kitty…” The other woman’s presence calmed Pill a bit. “You stay over there with Davien.”

“Aye,stay where y’are. She’s frightened.” Davien sank back onto her knees as Rashona backed away slowly, positioning herself right beside Davien.

From bird to lion a moment ago, now Rashona switched from lion to tauress. “I was going to ask if you knew what was wrong, but…it seems to be getting more so, whatever it is.” Her voice rumbled melodically in Davien’s ear, so Pill couldn’t hear.

“She was tinkerin’ with somethin’,” the mage muttered back. Pill had mostly lost interest, rambling to herself once more. “And got it on her..”

“Is that why she was talking so strangely? And then not talking at all? I’ve been getting letters…I don’t like this.”

“AndI’m goin’ t’light Bittertongue on fire.” It was said more to herself than to Rashona, but she felt the approving nod. “She says she’s hearin’ the Lich King,” she addressed the druidess once more. “And seein’ him.”

“Damn. I was…beginning to fear that, from the way she wrote. Real, or delusion?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m hopin’ for delusion.”

Pill’s muttering had wound down and now she was regarding the conferring women curiously.

Davien raised her voice. “Rashona, do y’have t’touch her for a healin’?”

“No. I can stay at a distance.” She stood, the cool green glow of nature surrounding her. “Corspilla? Can I try?” At Pill’s nod, Rashona let the magic go. Netherstorm smelled like the plains after a good hard rain while the healing worked its way into Pill.

“Tickles,” sh esaid, looking around. “Still there.. Whispering, but not talking. Maybe scared of the Earthmother. Dunno. Maybe just playing with me. Not perfect. Maybe I can talk to Davien now without plotting the corruption of the Eye.” She paused a moment, slyly. “Would that make it pink eye?”

Davien and Rashona shared a relieved grin. “There’s my Pill,” said Davien.

“For a little, maybe.” The joke was over already.

“Then tell me what y’can.”

Pill settled back and talked, more herself than she’d been all night,telling them of her experiments – the maggots and Whiskers; Birdbrain knocking over the beakers; Pill getting the substance off of him but on herself. “It’s not the old plague, Davien. I know that… I know it needs things from out here. This is a new plague.”

“I’m more than a wee bit tired of plagues,” she said. “Pill, y’need t’rest.”

“Dunno…maybe nap after another healing? Maybe for a bit.” They argued about where she could go to sleep. Everywhere was too dangerous – the Sepulcher was too close to Dalaran; Moonglade had too many lives, too many thoughts.

Davien tapped at her lips. “What about… Do ‘eeremember where I had Jessen and Kyree at first? There’s a cave in Mulgore, outside of the Bluffs.”

Pill nodded after a long moment. “That will work.”

Rashona cocked an ear at Davien’s mention of the children, trying not to look too curious.

“I’ve moved them out of Mulgore,” she said with a grin. “I promise.”

Pill’s hand dipped into a pocket of her robes, drawing out a runestone. She channeled mana through it, and as it crumbled to dust, she disappeared. “Don’t be too long,” her voice echoed.

“That was…disturbing,” said Rashona. She pulled a sheaf of letters from her packs and handed them to Davien. The mage read silently, shadows occasionally flickering across her eyes.

“…half-mad,” she muttered, and passed them back.

“I know.” Rashona tucked them away. “Normally, she fights – anything, whether she needs to fight it or not. This? I don’t know.”

“It’s…I remembered, a while back. What it was t’be Scourge. I remembered his voice in my head, but it was… It was in a dream, of sorts. He had no sway. Pill, though… Hearin’ it while she’s awake. While her mind’s her own…”

“She’s said things before that make me believe her memories are more vivid than most. But that talk of”wanting it” disturbs me almost as much as the voices. I’d asked her to talk to you, if she wouldn’t speak to a priest or shaman. As you can tell, she didn’t think much of the idea.” They stood, watching gryphons and windriders come and go over the goblin town.

At last, Davien said softly, “Aye. She said she’d welcome death, too.”

Rashona stomped a hoof in what could be fear or anger. “That is not Corspilla. Either something does have a hold on her, or she’s far more beaten down than I feared.”

“No,it’s not. I’m afraid she’ll stop fightin’. I…” Davien looked down at her hands, sadly. “I’ll destroy her, if it comes t’that. But I don’t want to.”

The druidess frowned in thought. “Truthfully? I’m not sure I could make myself. Too much time protecting her in battle. There aren’t that many people whose judgment I trust. If you told me it had to be done, I would help. But…I wouldn’t be much good after.”

She shook her head. “No, I’d not ask y’to. Yva, Gharr, now Pill. I’ll bear that burden for all of us, Rashona.”

Rashona bowed. “I thank you. But I’d rather not lose the both of you.”

“Well, we’ll hope it doesn’t come t’that, then.”

“I can at least keep a watch on her – though I can’t go teleporting myself over both the worlds like the two of you can. Except to Moonglade,which I tend to avoid regardless. Too many stuffy elves.”

“Ah,now,” said Davien, “It’s pretty there.” She reached for a rune of her own. “I should go see t’her, though, speakin’ of teleporting. And make sure she’s sleepin’ easy.”

“All right. Safe travels, and let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“Iwill.” They hugged each other. Rashona spread her arms wide as she stepped back, fur turning to feather as she stepped into the air.

Davien watched her go, then whistled for Cavale. Her warhorse stomped and snorted as she swung up into his saddle. Most days, Davien let him rest in the stables while she went off on her windrider. Outland’s terrain worked hell on the dead horse’s hooves. But tonight she wanted speed. He carried her to the goblin town and obeyed perfectly as she sawed the reins when she drew even with the couriers’ hut. He reared just far enough to look frightful, but not enough to throw her off his back.

There were several couriers free, lounging about the low-ceilinged room. Maybe it was laziness that made them avoid eyecontact with her – no one wanted to venture out delivering message swith the Legion running rampant. Or maybe it was her height – the topof her head stopped just short of brushing the roof. It would takethree goblins standing on one another’s shoulders for one to look herlevel in the eye. It could have been the way she stalked across thedusty floor.

Any number of things could have made the idle couriers look away from the mage, but only one thing made Daxil “Boots”Fizzlecrank cower.

He remembered her.

Or, more appropriately, he remembered at whose side she used to travel.

“No!”he said, scrambling backwards over his chair. “No! Can’t take any commissions! Busy! Important business for Undermine, yes! Dire, dire busi-OH GODS GET YER HANDS OFF ME I’LL DO ANYTHING.” He kicked frantically as she took hold of his lapels and lifted him to eye-level. Her hands were hot enough to make the fabric smoke.

“Shut up and listen t’me. Y’remember the death Christof used t’bring t’y’rkind in Booty Bay and Everlook and Ratchet. I swear to ‘ee, if the letter I’m about t’write doesn’t reach Stormwind by sunset – in the same condition I hand it to ‘ee -I’ll make y’wish I’d sent ‘ee t’him in Northrend, trussed up and with an apple between y’r over-large teeth. Nod if ‘ee understand.”

He quivered out a nod. She set him down and pulled a sheet of parchment and a quill off his desk to write in her firm, strong hand:

Bittertongue –

The Salty Sailor, Booty Bay. Three days hence.

We have business.


She folded it and pulled a lump of wax from a pile. It melted at her touch. She pressed the ring with the Eye of Noxilite to the letter and glanced up at Daxil as the wax cooled. “Why’re y’gibberin’ now?”

“M-muh-m-miss Stonemantle…” He cringed under her glare and pointed to a chart on the wall. “It…it… it’s nuh-nearly sunset in St-st-stormwind now.”

“Tell me how this is a problem,” she said, “and don’t make me slap the stutter out of ‘ee.”

He swallowed, his eyes huge. “I have to catch a bird to Shattrath. That’s…it’s an hour’s travel at least, even on a swift one. It will be dark by the time I get to the portals.”

Davien threw her head back and laughed. The goblin eeped. It eeped again when she reached into her belt pouch, but all she produced were two runes, one larger than the other. “Y’forget, sweetling. I can send ‘ee t’Shattrath, easy as rippin’ a hole in the Nether.” She whispered her spell into the larger of the stones and made sure Daxil placed the letter in his satchel. “Now,” she said, as the light of A’dal flickered into the hut, “run.”

He did.

The other goblins were suddenly intent on their business when she spun around once the portal closed. She smirked and whispered to the other stone, composing herself once more as the Nether wrapped around her and pulled her to Thunder Bluff. It wouldn’t do to let Pill see her like this.

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So, the deal that was made with Bricu and the Riders for her mistake in judgement, Pill agreed to investigate the stuff they discovered in the crates. Pill went the plaguelands because there was less chance of something going wrong. After a few days on being silent, this was how she was when she appeared once more.

She watched him leave the chapel, watched as he walked among them, barely control her fury as he spoke to them. “Stop.. stop it.” She told herself and gave her body a little shake. She heard a soft meep from her back and twitched again. “Please be quiet, please.” Her hands tightened into boney fists and forced herself to breathe through her mouth. A few moments concentrating on her breathing, ragged as it was, allowed her to turn back to watching him.

He came close to her hiding place. “Leonid!” She hissed his name, but was relieved when he turned towards her. Looking at his skeletal face did not summon feelings of rage in her.

“Girl, what are you doing in the bushes, what there is of them.” He hefted his axe and looked around suspiciously. Despite the lack of threats, he did not lower the weapon. The taunt and desiccated flesh on his face could not convey much in the way of expression, but he paused his inspection of the area and took a second look at her.

“What happened to your face.” His free hand grabbed her chin and raised it up so that he could get a better look. She put a hand on his wrist to try and stop him. She hadn’t the strength, but she left a trail of fluid and gore along his arm as she tried. “What’s wrong with you, girl?” He gave her head a shake, before releasing her. “I’ll have one of the healers look at you. Call that guild leader of yours too.”

She wanted to trust him. When she had finally admitted that she could no longer trust Sylvanas, it was Leonid Barthalomew that she had sought out for advice. No, it was herself that she did not trust. “Can’t. Too many living. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” She ripped her bags off her back and thrust them at him. “I see HIM, Leonid. I hear HIM, whispering… whispering in my head. I ripped out my eyes and I still see HIM!”

He ripped the pack from her hands and threw it to the ground. “What the hell are you babbling about?” She turned away from him, clutching her arms to her side, but he grabbed an arm. “Corspilla! Look at me, girl.” She turned her ravaged face back towards him, not really wanting to know what he saw. “You see who.”

“HIM! Sitting on his throne, waiting. Just waiting for us to go back to him. Waiting, always waiting. And planning. Boy and man all wrapped up together. He doesn’t need a queen, doesn’t want one. Make us all slaves again. Killing.” She paused an let out a hissed breath. He was touching her. A quick gesture was all it took to remind him that while she might not have a weapon, she was still dangerous.

“Traitor” She hissed at him. “Think you’re safe but you’re not. HE sees you too. The day is coming soon.” Her cries had brought more attention that she liked. The rest of the foolish Dawn would rally, they would strike. She would not fight where there was no chance of victory, but the time would come. Corspilla turned and fled, sheltered by things that would have attacked her only a few days ago.

From her forgotten pack, a small flightless bird shoved his way out into the dim sunlight. He looked up at the undead that stood over him and meeped loudly. His feathers were singed and covered in a black ash, but he looked uninjured. Tied to his back was a journal. Aside from that, her pack held nothing more than the ash that covered the bird.

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This is right after Corspilla had allowed Canthos to talk her into helping him moving some crates. These crates held a plague mixture and the Cult of the Damned had hired Canthos to move them. This started a cross-server RP event between the Wildfire Riders and Noxilite. This is pretty much the last time Pill was completely in control of herself for months.

Well, she had not been lit on fire, but that did not make things any easier. Pill was relieved that Davien had not gotten to upset, but Davien was always the forgiving sort. Maybe a little too forgiving, but she was not above taking advantage of that.

Now that she had finished with her confession, which had been blessedly quick, Pill crouched in her old spot below Hammerfall’s inn. The Tauren innkeeper had been pleased enough to see her. He had muttered something about the Outlands being bad for business, but she had not paid much attention. Instead, she had crawled under the floorboads and then slowly unwrapped the squirming bundle in her pack.

The plant seemed more listless than it had before, but she had been careful not to spend much time in netherstorm. Its leaves lay on the leather exhausted until she summoned a container of water. The leaves and roots of the strange thing lifted up, straining to reach to magical liquid. Reluctantly, Pill let the plant claim its prize.

“Never shoulda trusted that sneaky guy.” She confided to the plant. “Shoulda know better.” She sighed and struggled not to fidget. The whole incident with Canthos still gnawed at her. “Not that surprising though, huh?” She asked the plant, which had returned to its more restful state now that it had consumed the water. “Not like he cares if people die.”

She wondered about that, wondering about shipping bandages tainted with plague. That did not seem like what the Undercity apothecaries were working on. There was something about those crates that was familiar, but she couldn’t put her fingers on it. She dug her fingers into the loose dirt, trying to work through the problem.

The smell of the disturbed earth tickled other memories, which caused worse fidgets. She could not pin her mind down to just one thing and ground her teeth in frustration. “Darkness! I just want a moment’s peace!” Pill sputtered to the empty air. Just one minute to think without feeling twitchy. Just one. Only time she did not feel twitchy was when the Eye gathered for stories and she cuddled up next to Rashona.

“So remember Kitty, silly girl.” She told herself and strove to crush other memories while think of Rashona in cuddly kitty form. The mental picture was almost complete when an irritated squawk intruded. The silly little bird creature she had collected had climbed out of her pack and was now wrestling with the plaguebloom for possession of its legs.

“Hey! You let go of him!” She singed the plant to make it let go, and cuddled the little bird to calm it down. “S’okay. I won’t let it eat you. What is that smell? Smells kinda like the stuff yesterday.” The bird thing climbed out of her arms, once again twitching with energy. Pill did not notice; she was caught up in reliving the smell. She had not had the luxury of thinking yesterday, not with all the fighting and covering her stupid mistakes. She knew exactly where she knew that spell from now.

She gathered up the plant, ignoring the waving stems and dropped it back into its pouch. She closed the drawstring tightly. The she picked up her bird and stuff it, squawking in protest into her pouch to. She had to tell… who? Who was she going to tell? Crouched beneath the Inn, she froze with indecision. How important was it? They stopped the shipment, but who was shipping the stuff?

Before she said a word, she needed to know more. Knowing would not come from waiting for Davien to pass messages. Nope, knowing would require more direct methods. She had heard that some of the Riders hung around in Shattrath. Huffing, she slung her Noxilite tabard over her bony torso and teleported herself to Shattrath. Her bird stuck its head out of her pack and squawked as she made her way to the tavern. People always came to taverns… Hopefully she would avoid any fights, but not a few sheepings.

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This is a story from over four years ago. I was talking in vent with people about what Pill used to be like. This happened after Davien was attacked at the Nox fire by those loyal to the Banshee Queen. It was this that set Pill on the path of her rebellion.

“Don’t know if I like you being under my inn.” Corspilla simply glared at the Tauren innkeeper. She’d been living beneath his inn for well over a year now. She had grown used to it and she paid well enough for it, since the blasted animal… Cow.. bloody Tauren had refused to allow her to keep her belongings in the bunkroom upstairs.

“Rumor has it that that eye of yours is bad luck.” He pointed a blunt finger at the tabard she had slung over her arm.

“BAD LUCK!” The Tauren’s ears flicked in discomfort as her voice crept to its highest and most piercing range. “I’ll give you bad luck, you pestulant pile of rabbit droppings! I’ve paid good money to stay here and here I will stay, unless you fancy maggots dripping from your rafters and leeches in your water!” Her hands flung open wide to include the whole host of the large in.

“Let’s not be hasty then…” Pill lowered her hands as the Tauren made a gesture of peace. “I’ve just been hearing rumors.”

“Been hearing lies and half-truths about Davien Stonemantle is more like it!” But her voice was not nearly as strident. “Aye, You’ll be wanting more money then?”

“No, I’m wanting,” The Tauren keep frowned as he stopped himself from adopting more of Pill’s oddly cadenced speech. “I want you to move back into your room. He lowered his head so that the soft flesh around his nose tickled her green ear. “Less likely to get grief from some of the other deader hot-heads with someone like you staying here.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the Tauren and continued to distrust him as she began to move her things back upstairs. It was not exactly what she had expected, but she was not going to complain much. It didn’t rain much in the Highlands but it would be nice to sleep in a bed again.

Except she found that she could not sleep. The whistling sounds of snoring Tauren and Orcs, along with the muttered voices below were nearly as distracting as her own thoughts. Weeks of pent up frustration made her limbs move of their own accord. Davien’s exile and Yva’s return were all jumbled up with everything else.

Actually, it was more Yva’s sudden return to Noxilite that made her itch. After all, she had been expecting some move by the betraying, lying, self-proclaimed queen of the Forsaken for weeks now. Exile, despite the impact it might have on obnoxious and self-important orcs like Azhag, was acceptable. Certainly it was better than the all out way that Pill had expected. She wondered, in all honesty, what had stopped Sylvannus from taking greater measures, or perhaps Davien and Nox were not worth the Banshee Queen’s time.

No, Yva was the source of her frustration tonight. So itchy had her fellow mage made her that she had not paid attention to the stories told at the most recent guild-meeting. Instead she had only truly seen, and continued to see in her mind’s eye, Yva’s relentless pacing and equally troubling, Yva’s inability to focus.

Darkness was not going to come. She had grown fond of the dark times in which her mind rested. Lacking dreams, or at least the memory of them, it was a calm time. But it eluded her now. So she turned her attention to her experiments. Not to her leeches or maggots or any of the other multitude of attempts to alter small living things. Instead she removed from its enclosure the cutting she had taken from Ahka’s mystery plant. It was a cutting no longer. Despite having been deprived of sunlight and water, the thing had survived and thrived, but the small shard she had bought off a passing warlock no longer shined brightly. In fact, the shard was nearly extinguished and crumbled to dust as she picked it up.

She stroked the leaves of the plant in thought, not noticing the root tendrils that moved towards her packs until she heard her pet rat squeaking from its cage. “Damn cow and his damn plant.” She knew she should ask Ahka about it… maybe corner the Tauren where he could not run away so easy, but then she would have to admit to studying the plant. Considering her stance towards Sylvanas and one-time purpose of the Eye, that would be a bad move.

How could she explain that the plant was intriguing. She wanted to know how it worked and who had made it. Curiosity was the life and death of every mage, or so her father had said when he had turned her away from the path of magic when she had been living.

“Good thing, I am already dead.”

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Thanks to Yva and Twitter, I watching this rock musical movie about vampires called Suck

And that brings me to this song by Burning Brides

Flesh and Bone

This song is perfect for the Prophecy of Light

Now back to writing Dorri and Kel getting sent into Exile.

It’s three months too late, but it is getting done.

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