AN &Disclaimer: I own this short story, but not the world, or anything else that is trademarked by Blizzard, of course. Oh, I own the people in the story, of course. And If the NE priest appears a bit.. uh.. well, just forgive him. It's the first time I write him, and I don't even have him as a character on WoW itself. Just needed a NE Priest and tadaa, there he was.
This is what happens when I can't find out what a certain something is for. I make up my own reasons. And, heh, then wach the idea get kidnapped. ;;
Conceived and written at February 17th, 2006
For those of you also reading Splintertree Postage, I expect to have the first chapter up the beginning of next week at its latest.
Warning: Short. Please enjoy :)
In the woodlands of Ashenvale, a young Night ElfPriest by the name of Talvriss Aernyal had come across the answer to his question.
"Where is my sister?"
Welll, not his question, technically.. Or his sister for that matter, but he had been asked to find the answer to it, regardless.
The dryads that resided in the Temple of Aessina, and their spokes-dryad in particular, had asked him to look for one of theirs.
She had been missing for near a week now. They had asked several people who had passed through to look for her, but none of them had returned with any viable information.
Understandably, they were quite worried.
They suspected the satyrs had had a hand in all of this, and while they certainly wouldn't mind the slaying of one or two should this prove correct, most of all, they just wanted their sister back.
Talvriss had a soft heart, and that was a problem at times, yes, but.. well, how could you say no to that?
He couldn't, and so he hadn't. And now, at least, he knew the answer.
The satyrs of Satyrnaar and Xavian were rude, boorish demons, and Talvriss was saddened to see the result of their work.
The dryad appeared to have dead for a few days now, perhaps more.
He had tried to call on Elune to restore her spirit once more, but her body was too far gone to hold a spirit. And even his quickest healing spell would not restore her body quick enough for her spirit to gain a hold.
That left him with but one option.
Take the body back with him to the Temple of Aessina.
It.. would be a long way, and the road led past Splintertree Postage. The 'cosy outhouse of the Horde' as he had heard a more seasoned Night Elf refer to it. It was, however, the middle of the night.
And since he was a Favoured of Elune - he aired a quick prayer, to ask for forgiveness for his presumptiousness, but, well.. it was true, wasn't it? - surely he could count on some luck..
A mile later, a bit east of the main gate of Splintertree, Talvriss came to the conclusion that maybe he should try that 'humble' thing that the humans talked of when they referred to their Divine Spirit.
Coming his way, were two Orcs and one Troll. The Troll, a male in robes, was obviously less experienced than the two orcs, and he seemed anxious at the sight of the Night Elf.
One of the Orcs - the female - cast him a contemptuous glare, coupled with an impressiverow of obviously sharpenedteeth.
The other stopped in his tracks as he spied Talvriss and for a moment, the Priest feared the foul creature's eyes would pop out.
Making a quick head count and inventarising what he knew and had experienced so far, Talvriss' thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the male orc stopped trying to convince his buddies and charged him.
HE WAS DOOOOOMED.
And then, as if it wasn't bad enough yet - he wasn't just going to get killed by an Orc, no, he was going to be completely dead and oh please, Elune, he was one of her Favourite Children, "don't let them kill me, I can't stand pain!" - a shadow suddenly fell over him.
He looked up into the skeleton face of a horse. He would've 'eep'ed but that was undignified and as a Priest of Elune, he couldn't afford undignified.
"Let him pass.. " A worn voice came from inside the dark and heavy clothcowl that almost completely encased the head of the undead seated on the equally undead horse.
Talvriss didn't speak Orcish. He would probably never learn the language either. But the words that.. rotted out of the undead's mouth caused shivers to run up and down his spine.
At least when the Orcs and Trolls and Taurens spoke, it wasn't this.. wrong..
The Orc - a warrior - who had been about to cut Talvriss into tiny, compact, precise and perfect pieces, growled at the undead. "He's a Night Elf!Why should I? He's our enemy, and we are his. I say we slay him."
The Undead turned his head away from scrutinizing a very very unhappy Talvriss and a deep darkness peered down at the orc.
Suddenly, the brash young warrior wondered if maybe speaking up to the - obviously more experienced and oh, capable of killing him with the blink of an eye? - undead as he had was really such a good idea.
"Consider it.. a professional courtesy.." The undead touched the sigil of Holy Power that he wore around his neck as he spoke. His voice hadn't changed from when he last spoke - it was marked by the obvious lack of life and the subsequent lack of emotion that beset many of those that had come back to serve the Horde as Sylvanas ordered.
"What?" The Orc looked caught between venting his outrage and not wanting to die because of the stupidity he was enacting now. "You're gonna let him pass because he's a Priest and you are too? Is that it? Next you'll be telling me I can't kill warriors!"
There was another awkward silence, as the Undead shifted in hissaddle in a deliberate way to make better use of his height advantage.
For one very real moment, the Orc knew he was dead.
"Not to him.." The Undead said then, shaking his head as his skeletal horse took an unseen cue from him and started towards the entrance of Splintertree Post, leaving more than one surprised to still be alive right now. "The corpse."