Forsaken no more, Chp2: Of Black Ooze and Cleaning Products

[Dispaya]

Zhuljeta sent word by one of the Mind slaves to Dispaya

"Motoki is infected, He's in the war quarter."

"Send him to me."

"Something's coming Dispaya"

"I know."

She broke contact with Zhuljeta. She felt the darkness that was overtaking the girl elf. She knew the girl was almost lost. Something had to be done.

"Well..there...it is now fixed...boy she really did a number on it."

The Rogue Engineer Drakyth knelt beside the chlorine gas coffin he had cleverly put together at Dispaya's request. He referred to Anca who had been placed in the contraption recently in hopes of a cure. In frustration the Orc girl had kicked the device thus damaging it. Even for a youngling her strength was great. The cure had worked along with some powerful magic from Zeengo...but there was a price. The child Orc was still very sick, though the sorrow plagued her no longer. Dispaya could not tell yet if it would return.

Dispaya looked around at her crypt. A place that was usually calm and silent now busting with activity. Several tribe were there tending to the sick...her dear friends Ptarra, Valtrinity and Drakyth...and Uglawha who now stood guard outside along with the two Bohemoth guardians. Others came and went as well: Lymoria...Krell...Ptarra..Shantow...too many for her to name.

She fretted over the contact from Zhuljeta. Motoki would be arriving soon. She bid Cadavera to prepare another cell. Zhuljeta had turned..of that she was certain. Words of her dark deeds were becoming well known. She could no longer be trusted...but she also was not lost...not yet.

Kneeling she sent a call out to her tribemates....to all who would listen...to any who would answer her call.

"Irongsong! We are close to finding a cure. Those who have turned must now be brought in. They can no longer be allowed to run amongst us and wreak havok and destruction. Motoki was the very last straw. I need a team to assemble to bring the turned ones in. They will be imprisoned here and sedated until a cure can be found. I shall need guards as well to make sure they cannot escape. We must come together to fight this plague. Too many have fallen! Sing True and hear my call...come to me now!"

And so they came...and a team was assembled. Dispaya gave them the list:

Lucinther
Zhuljeta
Mindial
Tyrannis
Yorrik
((There were others as well...maybe you?))

"Now my tribe...bring our fallen friends home."

((For RP reasons I did not name names. You can join the rp however you wish. If you wish to be part of the team who brings in the fallen...step up in GC or confront your fallen teamates in a duel or other rp device. Decide who is captured...who escapes...who is brought in...it's up to the players and where you want your rp to go. I can only say that I know Dispaya would try to bring in the fallen so they could not harm others and would try her best to contain them.))

[Guest]

Mindiall Rides into the Ghostland just finishing up his week meetings.

*A disembodied voice echo's in his head* "Mindiall The tribe is on the war path. Tread carefully.."

Mindiall Frowns. "Muttering to himself* I knew my contacts in the tribe would be helpful."

Mindiall started his ride again thinking of the many safe spots he hd set aside for himself.

[Takeena]

Staring at the sea.. will he come?
Is there hope for me after all is said and done?
Anything at any price.. all of this for you.
All the spoils of a wasted life.. all of this for you.
All the world has closed her eyes
Tired faith all worn and thin
For all we could have done
And all that could have been.

Ocean pulls me close
And whispers in my ear
The destiny I've chose
All becoming clear
The currents have their say
The time is drawing near
Washes me away
Makes me disappear

I descend from grace
In arms of undertow
I will take my place
In the great below

I can still feel you
Even so far away.

Takeena was in Shadowprey village, the town they'd chosen to be their home away from home. Clad in metal-linked armor and sorrow, she barely stirred from her post at the balcony when the rain began. She was waiting for Gholjan, hoping that his death-rotted mind would summon up this location, that some sort of base instinct would call him there. That hope was quickly diminishing - it'd been days since the news of his escape and none had seen him. No one had a clue where he had gone or what he was up to. For the first time in her life, the troll huntress was truly afraid.

Gloved palm lowered and smoothed over the swell of pregnancy, her eyes closing as an involuntary sob exited from betwixt her lips. This was not supposed to happen! They were supposed to raise their whelp in peace and quiet, dodging Zeengo's suspicions and attempts at his brother's life at every turn. She was prepared for that, they had their plan all sorted out. This plague, this Sorrow, was unforeseen and she was completely lost without her mate to reassure her.

Even when Gholjan knew he was to die, when she was comforting him and trying to heal him, he told her to hide. To keep the child safe. This is what she'd told the others she planned on doing and she was berated for her inaction. They needed her to help, to watch for attacks on outlying towns - to forsake Gholjan's last wish, his only wish, in order to fight.

Pushing from the balcony's railing, abandoning her post atop the Inn, she trotted down the stairs and called for Bear to accompany her. Smiling half-heartedly at her boar, she pat the beast and untied her raptor's reins from a post outside. "We be goin' ta find daddeh, Bea'. He be scary at da moment, but we be tricksy and we gots da traps and da nets. We captcha him and bring him ta da labs - I be heedin' Dispaya's call." Steadying her excited mount, she looked up at the rain clouds and narrowed her eyes. "We be needin' Bovv's help, d'oh. He en't pregnant and he be nearly as trained as Gholjan. Wit' da two of us, we be betta off. Ta Mulgore!" Digging her heels into the raptor's side and setting off at a bouncing sprint, she made way to the rolling plains in order to search for her old friend.

[Lyrics from Nine Inch Nails - The Great Below, slightly altered to reflect Gholjan's male persuasion. ;D]

[Bovv]

Arbovv cradles the pale-skinned elf-child in one huge hand—a hand large enough to both hold the boy and support his infant neck. “A’landar,” he rumbles. “That I could spare you a life such as this.” The words come out as barely more than a mumble. “Which may be why your lady mother pays me. Unfortunately for her, I cannot simply stand by and guard you.” He smiles, and tickles the child beneath his chin.

“The question, then,” the hunter continues, mostly talking to himself, “Is who do I pass you on to. Allete might serve for a few hours at a time, but should said lady mother realize just what, rather than who, it is I’ve left you in the care of—as she’s like to do at any time—she’d skin me alive and sell me the leather for armor.” He grins. “No, rather one she could trust as well as I do, loathe as I am to enter your hometown. Better than Lordaeron, though.”

Silvermoon city spreads out before him, vast and busy with its own resplendence. As usual, the tauren towers over the inhabitants, and sticks out like a sore thumb—a thumb as broad as a bar. With his free hand he adjusts his eye patch, rubbing the bone of the socket. The atmosphere in the city always irritated that particular wound—he didn’t know if it was the magic in the air, or something from the plants. It was one of the reasons he avoided the elf capital nine days out of ten.

Eventually his hooves find him at the doorstep of the Dalconan estate. He knocks, and the door opens— “By the gods, what is that sme—oh, it’s you.” The elf’s nose becomes even more upturned, if that was possible. “Dropping off A’landar again, I see. Your disdain for our ways, one would think, must make this most uncomfortable for you.”

“Just see that he’s cared for, and either the lady Viridis or I will be here to retrieve him by week's end.” Bovv glares with his one eye. “And don’t try to get him all magicked up, or by the Earthmother you will wish the boy’s mother got to you before I did.” It was an empty threat—and an empty worry—but it got his point across: the child was Viridis’, not House Dalconan’s, and she alone would guide his growth.

“As you wish,” the elf replies with a sneer. “You misjudge us, you know.”

“No, I simply mistrust you.” Bovv bows, and by the time he has risen the door is closed, without so much as a ‘farewell’. “Bloody elves.”

An hour later finds Arbovv astride his massive frostwolf with a fresh quiver of arrows, a newly-restrung bow, and a recently sharpened broadaxe. He sniffs, takes in the scent of the Plaguelands, and pulls his mask over his face.

Beside him, sitting awkwardly in the saddle of her raptor, is Takeena, heavy with child. “Fin'lly, a place dat smells worse den ya,” she says, wrinkling her nose. She’s joking, but the tauren knows her heart isn’t in it. “Ya t’ink he be out dere?”

Arbovv shrugs. “If not, I cannot think of a better place to start searching. The only place more teeming with the Scourge is up there,” he points Northwest, towards Northrend, “Or up there.” A nod is directed towards the massive floating fortress, Naxrammas. “And we cannot simply walk into either. Are you ready, lass?” His concern for the troll’s wellbeing—Takeena’s infinitely moreso than Gholjan’s—is plain on his face, and in his eye.

The mother-to-be nods, and the hunt begins.

With dialect-translation and references from Takeena.

[Zhuljeta]

Zhuljeta slowly slipped into the undercity quite as a mouse. Going no further then the edge of the sewers. It was all she needed to ensnare the Forsaken's mind. Her blood was boiling in anger she cared little whose mind she took. The undead male snapped to attention when she had him under her sway. She marched him straight to the magic quarter.

Dispaya! he bellowed at the top of his lungs. I trusted you! I helped you. Yet you set your hounds upon me, to be hunted down like a dog? I would have come once I'd found all the lost ones.. Sent them to you. But instead you send a bovine and his swine after me. I still have my pride!

The undead shakes his head once Dispaya replies, looking confused, I thought I was on my way to the fungus vendor...

She rode hard and fast to caer darrow. Then as she was climbing the steps she heard the ghostly children playing she stops listening, unfortunately the Will also chose that moment to speak as well and the skul splitting pain returns.

That's it anger. Hate. Let those guide you right to me... No care for life. Revenge, don't you want revenge? Take it!

Zhuljeta stared off into the waters of the lake. Revenge, it did sound so sweet.

[Dispaya]

Dispaya went back to Anca's bedside where the Orc girl had come awake from a terrible nightmare. Anca was still sick from the chlorine treatments...but getting better now with the passing days.

"Dreams...Scary!" Anca cried.

"Shhh dear one...get some rest."

Dispaya knelt at the girl's bedside taking a wet cloth to wipe a bit of sweat from the child's brow. As Anca slowly drifted back to sleep Dispaya began gently singing her a lullabye...

Tomorrow you will head away...more battles will be won
Tonight is time to rest and sleep my little darling one
Darkness caresses you...while you drift away
My Anca...darling Anca...tomorrow is another day

Childe Champion of Ironsong is what they now call you now
Inside your breast the heart of a Hero beats inside you now
Your size is that of a child...but your heart is bigger still
Your innocence now teaches us...it always has and always will

So sleep now darling Champion...tomorrow is another day
I know that when tomorrow comes, you shall follow your heart and ride away
Keep your tribe and watch over them....for your courage makes you strong
Follow your heart wherever it leads...and Sing True your Ironsong

Anca's Lullabye
-Dispaya

The sound of Anca's snoring now filled the air and Cadavera came to her and took the cloth from Dispaya's hand, replenishing it and wringing it with fresh water.

From outside a strange voice echoed through the catacombs.

"Dispaya! I trusted you! I helped you. Yet you set your hounds upon me, to be hunted down like a dog? I would have come once I'd found all the lost ones.. Sent them to you. But instead you send a bovine and his swine after me. I still have my pride!"

Though the voice was not hers, she sensed Zhuljeta was near.

"Pride is all you will have...and even that will not be for long." The mage thought to herself.

Dispaya lowered her head and send a magical tell to the ears of the elf girl:

"Jeta...you must come in for treatment...we can help you but time is growing short. You do not have time to hunt for others when the sorrow is upon you. By running and hiding you are only dooming yourself."


No reply.

[Trillana]

Trillana wakes up and slowly looks around slightly confused.

"Oh... right. Silvermoon."

Sitting up she takes in the surroundings. The sheer curtain on the bed cuts off half the room from view. What she could see from the room was small but very cozy. A tall bookcase stood in the far corner, An old picture hung on the wall next to the door, a Very handsome and well dressed Bloodelf male stood there grinning at her from his frame. As she gets up a wave of nausea flows over her. Holding on to the Bed post she mutters

"i guess you should not feel so good after dieing."

Trillana stumbles to the door and peers out. She sees an empty hall going in both directions. Closing the door again Trillana climes back into bed. She sees the ring Viridis gave her lying beside here pillow. Picking it up she curls up into a ball. Examining the ruing Trillana mutters

"Viridis why did you protect me..."

Trillana is allready half asleep when she suddenly jumps at a loud knocking sound from the door.

[Guest]

Yorrik had finally payed a visit to his late younger sister, who still haunts Darrowshire.
An odd thing of the rogue to do would be to play with a ghost of a little girl at such a time.
When his will itself is at a dilemma, not knowing which side to choose.. what would benefit him the most.
Sitting there as he spoke to the ghost of his sister, he realized his situation... rereading the past to know what has happened to him in the first place.

It was Zeengo who infected him.. and that he cannot forget be it accidental or not.
Nonetheless the rogue was not afflicted by the will of the lich king, but the will of Mindiall.
A pact was made between the two, if Yorrik was to serve Mindiall, he would not succumb to the Sorrow and the king's will.

Bidding farewell to his younger sister, Yorrik whistled sharply for his riding wolf and mounted it. A warm smile and a wave to his sister and he sped off towards the Western Plaguelands where his base of operation was held. Making his way to Caer Darrow he spotted Zhuljeta staring down into a lake. The rogue dismounted and walked over to her sitting on the floor behind her. He took off his mask and layed back, crossing his arms behind his head. His dark, cold eyes staring into the murky sky.

"I cannot live a life as someone's servant... if there really is a cure, point me in the right direction."

He closed his eyes and lay still waiting for an answer.

[Zhuljeta]

Zhuljeta did not turn around after Yorrik spoke. Her voice came in harsh whispers, only reaching his ears on the luck that the wind was going his way.

Dispaya may have a way to treat you. I am not sure what means she uses.. But Sorrow is within you now. I'm not sure if we can be cured. Zeengo was prattling on about some long lost troll tribe in the south Sea. We could look there first, before submitting ourselves to be imprisoned.

They'll destroy, leave you for dead. Sister sorrow, come home.

Zhuljeta turned to face him. Darkness pooling in her eyes.

Gholjan no longer exsists. He is Sorrow. The words he spews are not of his own making but the entity of chaos the King has put forth unto the World.

She placed a hand on his should loooking down on him a look of peace on her face, though her eyes seemed to have lost much of her soul.

Feelings irrelevant, you still serve

I will not give up my freedom easily either. Come we have a long journey if we are to find a cure.