Tag Archives: helcular
The Southshore Campaign
Garrosh just couldn’t seem to have any quiet time in Grommash Hold without some new task cropping up for him. If it wasn’t Eitrigg finding things for him to do, it was someone else from among his cast of minions…
Now, granted, you can hardly blame Garrosh for being a bit startled. This was taking place during Cataclysm, after all, so evidently Sylvanas was way, way ahead of the curve with the whole talking-head thing.
So Garrosh hopped the next zeppelin and headed to Eastern Kingdoms, where Sylvanas and her entourage were there to meet him with bad news for the living and dead alike…
Because seriously, that had been going on long enough.
Next up was a trip to the Apothecarium, where Garrosh first met Sylvanas’ head researcher, Master Apothecary Faranell.
A few awkwardly scripted interactions in the next room later…
And so, as per Faranell’s recommendation, Garrosh’s search for answers continued in Hillsbrad…
After many, many frustrating rounds of exhortations and beatings — which I won’t subject you to here — Garrosh was finally able to extract some information from a panicked Helcular: years ago, while still a living human, Helcular had seen a contingent from the Knights of the Silver Hand lurking around Southshore. Given the paladin order’s eventual interest in the Scourge, Garrosh concluded that there could be a link to the anti-plague. And considering the fact that, where the Silver Hand was concerned, Garrosh had an in right there on staff…
And look. A meeting took place. Words were exchanged. Many, many words. Spirits save us, so many words. And I’m simply not cruel enough to subject you to all of them here. Suffice to say that Garrosh ended up having to deploy Dontrag and Utvoch as part of an exit strategy. The main takeaway from the meeting — other than soul-crushing exhaustion — was that the Knights of the Silver Hand did indeed meet in Southshore some ten years ago to discuss the looming threat of the Scourge. Alexandros Mograine unveiled a magic crystal that would eventually be used to forge the Ashbringer — the ultimate weapon of the Light against undeath. The crystal, however, two of the knights had convinced Mograine to let them study the crystal for their own purposes, which led Garrosh, Mokvar, and Faranell to suspect there might be a connection to the current crisis in Southshore.
The only problem is, all relevant parties were now dead, leaving what seemed to be an equally dead trail for Garrosh and company to follow…
I had really wanted to cover this whole arc in this post, but this week got away from me a bit, so rather than make a late installment that much later, let’s toss up a “TO BE CONTINUED” here and resume our goofy walk down memory lane next time…
Oh, but also, since it’s kind of tradition at this point…
Daria’s Pro Tip for Dealing with Tirion #9: If someone else catches his attention, run — do not walk — out of the room. Do not look back. Do not feel remorse. It’s a hard, cruel world out there; better them than you.
Special delivery from Southshore
I’ve got two pieces of news fresh from Cromush in Southshore, one on the state of the anti-plague and reliquary, and the other…well, it’s complicated.
The simple part first. Cromush reports that our people in Southshore have finished deploying our counter to the anti-plague magic…which is sort of a counter in itself…is there a special term for a counter-counter? I feel like there kinda should be. Anyway, from what they can tell, the effect has dissipated, and once they make one last sweep or two of the area to be safe, Helcular and his Forsaken peeps should be good to move back in from Tarren Mill.
Cromush also sent a few of his scouts to search the cellar of the Southshore inn, and they successfully recovered the reliquary that Isilien and Doan had planted there a decade ago. By all appearances, the holy magic that was bottled up inside has been dispelled, although the crystal fragment inside is still intact, and apparently not entirely spent. Like I think I mentioned before, I’ll probably let Liadrin hold it for safekeeping, once we get it safely out of Forsaken territory.
That’s not the complicated part, though. Cromush’s scouts returned with one other tidbit: while they were digging around in the cellar, they also found a small wooden box lodged into the stonework near the reliquary. Inside were three sealed letters – one addressed to me, one to Sylvanas, and one to Faranell. By all indications, the box had been there, undisturbed, for about as long as the reliquary, and the oddity of all this gets a little worse – or maybe better? – when you know who the three letters are from.
Faranell.
Here’s mine:
Hello Garrosh,
From my point of view, I only just saw you last a few hours ago, but by the time you see this note, I imagine quite a long time will have passed. As you no doubt already know, I’ve written similar letters to the Dark Lady and, well, to myself. Or rather, to the version of myself who is with you now.
So, about him.
I imagine you’ve probably already come to suspect this, but I’ll confirm it for you now: the version of me that you’ve brought with you to the future isn’t the one who traveled with you to the past. Who you have with you now is the past, younger me. The human me. This did not, however, happen as a result of any mistakes or carelessness. It was my doing. I orchestrated the events leading to your bringing him with you. I’d started planning to do so midway through our journey.
It really wasn’t difficult to manage. After finishing his work with Doan, my brother told me that with Kel’Thuzad hovering about, Doan had grown paranoid (even for Doan) about someone interfering with the reliquary; he’d placed a warding spell on the canister that would stun anyone who tampered with it, knocking them out for hours or even days. I realized that this could provide me the window I needed to do what I’d been contemplating for the previous few days.
When I left the inn the next morning, I found the child Herod playing with the frog he’d taken from Taelan. Which is to say, of course, my younger self, whom Mokvar had hexed. A quick polymorph spell took Herod out of the equation; at that point I needed only break the hex on my younger copy, pop invisibility quickly, and get away from the inn. From a distance I watched myself go back inside.
When the other me returned to his room (since, naturally, where else would he go?), he would find a letter I’d left for him, along with the chameleon shard. In the letter, I “explained” that I – that is, he – had learned that an inexplicably unhinged Kel’Thuzad, suddenly obsessed with Mograine and the rest, had planted a magic explosive in the inn’s cellar; that if detonated, it would kill anyone in the inn or nearby; that I had volunteered to have my most recent memories erased to prevent any mind-reading to reveal to Kel’Thuzad that I’d revealed his plans. That the crystal I’d left there for myself, used as directed, could deactivate the explosive before it was set off. There was more to it, further details to ensure the story would ring true, but I doubt I need to belabor it with you; if anything, I suspect the letters “TL” and “DR” are already dancing around the edges of your thoughts. Suffice to say, remembering that I had already begun to grow wary of Kel’Thuzad by this point in my life, I knew which buttons to press to convince myself.
And so I sent my past self on his way to the cellar to unknowingly attune the shard and be rendered unconscious by Doan’s warding spell. And before you ask why my younger self would trust this story left for him in a letter, much less follow its instructions, let me pose this to you: faced with gaps in your memory and uncertainty over whom to trust, how many sources would you trust above your own handwriting? I know myself, and I knew I would take the bait.
I can’t say I’ve never lied to myself, but I don’t think I’d ever done it quite so literally.
And here’s where you’re asking why I would go to all this trouble. Or, maybe you don’t need to. In the end, it’s really fairly simple. Since dying to the Scourge and reawakening in undeath, I had never given much thought to the life I had lost. I accepted my new existence fairly readily. I didn’t have particular occasion to look back at the old life I’d lost until we traveled to old Hillsbrad, and at that point, I wasn’t merely looking back on that life. I was actually living it again.
I never really missed being alive until I was reminded of what it’s like.
I want it back.
I’m far from greedy or ambitious, and my wants, in tangible terms, are simple ones. I want to look in the mirror and see my own face. I want to feel sunlight on my skin without it burning. I want to taste food again. I want to smell that food cooking and feel my mouth watering without my jaw hanging off one hinge. I want to smell baking bread and freshly cut grass.
I know that’s not in the cards for me, in the long run. I’m not naïve about the necessities of time, and I know I can’t cheat fate. My being here represents a reprieve, a brief window to literally smell roses I didn’t bother smelling while oblivious to time running out for me. Now I know I’m living on borrowed time, and I can soak it in while I can, but I understand that that’s all it is. I can’t live out my human life that might have been.
That is, this me can’t. But the one you brought with you to the future can.
And that was the real point of it all. To save myself, probably in the most indirect way imaginable.
I’ve thought through the logistics, and everything should line up. You and the others came to the past with a version of Edwin Faranell. You’ve brought one back with you. One was already here, and one continues to be here. The scales are still balanced. I still remember everything I was supposed to have done, all the events that need to happen, and I can make sure they still unfold the way they always did. I realize this raises all sort of questions along the lines of “How can I remember the events I did in the past, if my past self no longer did them?”, but from the conversations we’ve had with Nozdormu, I’m fairly sure that will simply be one of those oddities of time rewriting itself.
Meanwhile, I know that I can’t make major changes to history, or try to stop Arthas, or anything of the sort; while I won’t pretend it won’t pain me to watch some of those events happen again, I can at least take comfort in the knowledge, for instance, that the Lich King will be stopped, so history doesn’t need me to try to.
And then, soon enough, I’ll come to the end that was fated for me. History says that a human named Edwin Faranell died in Lordaeron and was risen into undeath; a human named Edwin Faranell will. As Liadrin pointed out, as long as I’m here, I literally am human again. I can die as I was meant to, continue playing my part among the Forsaken, and, when the time comes, be there again to travel back with you to Southshore.
I’ll become the closed loop, holding my own place in history, while the other, younger me will be free to live – live – his days in a wide-open future.
In the letter I will have written for him, I will explain all of this, and lay out the basic facts he will need to know about this new world. I’m sure he will be frightened by it, and rightly so. I would only ask, Garrosh, that you look out for him early on. While I have great admiration for Lady Sylvanas in a great many ways, I suspect she will be none too pleased with this turn of events, and she may not be above taking steps that would, let us say, undermine what I have sought to do here. I suspect, though, that you will understand why I’ve done this, and may even sympathize; I would only ask you not allow it to be for nothing.
I do not expect that I will see you again. Live well, Warchief. I hope I will do the same.
–Dr. Edwin Faranell
Once and future Master of the Royal Apothecary Society
Not going to lie. I don’t even really know how to respond to that.
I’m not exactly thrilled about this, for a whole bunch of reasons, but at the same time, Faranell got the job done, end to end, both when we were in Hillsbrad and before. And as twitchy as this whole switcheroo makes me, on all kinds of levels, as far as I can tell it’s not like he’s setting out to screw with the timeline or mess something up or whatever. And I have to give it to him, he’s one of the few people around this dump who’s got the brains to pull off something like this AND go forward with it without causing some kind of stupidity-fueled collateral damage. Plus, he’s just a good dude. Or was. Or, well…will be.
Faranell was right — Sylvanas was less than thrilled when she got her letter. She right off started talking about how it would be easy enough to “correct” Faranell’s condition. I didn’t like the sound of that at all, so I’ve charged Liadrin with guarding him, and had Bragor Bloodfist divert a few of his Kor’kron up to Brill to help make sure nothing fishy happens. Because here’s the thing. For all intents and purposes, for the Faranell we knew, this was a last request. And last requests that don’t bring harm to anyone, where the only thing at stake is the person making the request? They should be honored.
I think I have an idea of how. Stay tuned.
So far, so good
Quick update from Southshore – Helcular and his people at Tarren Mill have gotten the chameleon shard that we attuned in old Southshore, and after a couple days of experimenting, they think they’ve come up with a way to dispel the anti-plague effect. Not a moment too soon, too, since those purple ribbony haze lines were creeping further and further out from the town, and had almost reached the Forsaken operation over at the Sludge Fields.
Obviously, Helcular didn’t want to chance sending his own undead people down to Southshore to test out the final product, so Cromush had a small detachment of warlocks and mages from Orgrimmar head down to start applying the fix. I’m not too clear of the details of it, seeing as most of that hocus-pocus stuff is pretty much just gibberish to me.
Bottom line, though, is they started doing their thing yesterday, and the early reports are that it seems to be working. I’m told that the locks and mages are going to have to follow the haze lines out from the town and do some more casting in order to completely purge the anti-plague effect. But from the sound of it, the town itself is mostly secured now, so it looks like we’re on our way to getting everything back to normal. Or, you know, what passes for normal with those Forsaken.
While Cromush has his people in Southshore – and before Helcular gives the go-ahead for the Forsaken to head back in – I’m having him send one or two of his top people to scour the cellar of the old inn. One, to make sure they’ve completely locked this thing down at its source, but two, to locate and secure the reliquary buried there that started it all. I don’t want any extra surprises from that thing…not to mention, considering its likely source, I don’t want it floating around unaccounted for. Once we have the crystal fragment, I may have Liadrin take custody of it, seeing as she seems to know a lot about it, and has her head on straight, and, you know, actually has a brain INSIDE the head she has on straight. Unlike very many of my underlings (he said with a great sadness).
More soon.
Back to the future, part 2
Okay, looks like the blog is FINALLY caught up with the here and now, and, gotta say, it was fucking TORTURE watching those last few posts dribble on through. I would say that The Noz has to do something about the lag in his wireless network, but then again, considering I was able to get a why-fly connection from frigging ten years ago, I guess I really shouldn’t complain.
Also, watching the posts loading gradually like they were, and reading them myself, eventually I started getting this weird detachment, like I was reading something that someone ELSE had written, not events I had lived through myself. I was starting to get strangely invested – like when you re-read a book, and you find yourself rooting for things to happen one way or another even though you already KNOW what’s going to happen, you know? Which, by the way, is EXACTLY WHAT TIME TRAVEL IS LIKE.
So anyway, now I can finally start updating you guys, because hoo boy, have things been interesting since we’ve been back. Like, starting from the MINUTE we got back to our own time. Because check this out – when we took Erozion’s portal back to the Caverns of Time, we all reset back to our normal, non-human selves, right? Except…Faranell didn’t. We arrived back in our own time and place…and he still looked human.
Obviously, this was made that much more complicated by the fact that he was still unconscious – there’s a limit to how much poking and prodding anyone could do while he was out cold from a shock to the system that we still didn’t understand very well. What’s more…he’s STILL that way. Not just the human-looking thing, but the unconsciousness. He still hasn’t come around. We had him transported back to the Undercity, and Sylvanas has put her best people in charge of looking over him. After the first couple days passed with no sign of change, she moved him up to Brill, the idea being that maybe the atmosphere up above ground might be a little better for his human constitution. On top of Sylvanas’ people, Liadrin’s volunteered to stay on for a while to help take care of him. Right now, though, that’s mostly consisting of a whole lot of waiting.
Nobody really knows what to make of what’s happened. We’ve got lots of theories, but until he comes around, he’s not going to be in stable enough condition for us to do a lot of testing on him. The best we’ve come up with so far – this was Liadrin’s best guess – is that the holy magic from the bomb might have produced the anti-plague effect on Faranell and purged him of the necro-whatsis magic that’s the source of his undeath. The same as it had been doing to the Forsaken around Southshore, only in his case, since strictly speaking he was human at the time rather than undead, it didn’t kill him. At least that’s the working theory right now. We’ll see.
Meanwhile, we’ve sent the chameleon shard along to Helcular and Cromush in Tarren Mill. With any luck, they’ll be able to use it to work out a way to dispel the anti-plague effect and get things under control out there. They’ve been at it for a few days now, so one way or another I’m expecting some news soon. Updates as they come.
Good news, everyone
We’re in business. Things are in motion, and one way or another, either we pull this off pretty soon, or we’re going home to some big problems.
After we did the ol’ switcheroo with Faranell – I guess I should start getting into the habit of calling him Edwin, but it just feels weird – I tried to keep an eye out for Tirion’s kid, but no luck there. Since Mokvar wasn’t going to be coming to the meeting with Isilien and Doan, I put him on lookout, with some help from Utvoch…that is, lookout help that still keeps him out of a position where he could really fuck something up, because seriously, enough is enough with that shit.
Faranell stepped out for a little while this afternoon to go see Kel’Thuzad – KT on his own this time, without Helcular in tow. He came back with some less-than-great news: KT has been noticing the Silver Hand people hanging around town, and is starting to wonder what they’re up to. Considering KT’s interest in necromancy, you can see how a bunch of paladins might perk him up some, especially with rumors flying around about the undead. If only he knew, right? Well, that’s sort of the point – I mean, things going on that KT doesn’t know. He basically was trying to find out if Edwin knows anything, especially considering his brother’s been spending some time up close and personal with the paladins. Edwin downplayed knowing anything, but Kel’Thuzad pressed him to keep an eye out and see if he could find anything out from his brother.
Besides the fact that this gives us one more wrinkle to worry about – which we’re going to have to keep worrying about until the Silver Hands get out of town so KT won’t have them putting ideas in his head – it’s also bringing us back to the problem Faranell’s brought up already: the fact that he doesn’t remember this business with Kel’Thuzad at all. I was already kind of worried about the whole time-distortion thing with Mokvar’s plan to hex Faranell v1.0 – I mean, how is our Faranell supposed to remember what originally happened here, when we take his past self out of commission so he won’t have lived those events to remember them, right? And plus, wouldn’t he at least remember, you know, being turned into a damn frog? But Liadrin insisted that it should work what with the way revised time works, with ripples from the changes not reaching out to us until the events play themselves out, or some kind of shit like that, and she seems to know what she’s talking about with this time crap, which she actually seems really interested in for who knows what reason, so whatever, I figured I’d trust her on that much. But now we seem to be getting more and more little pieces not meshing with the way Edwin remembers things, and that’s got me majorly worried.
Witness the latest little piece that seems to be playing out differently: turns out, when they were talking at some point, Isilien invited Patrick to come to our little meeting of the minds as well. On the one hand because he figured he could use all the brain power on this project he could find, and plus, apparently dude likes lighting a fire under Doan by bringing in second opinions from other magic users. Because, you know, if there’s one thing that’s a formula for success with these future Scarlet Crusade people, it’s encouraging their insecurity and paranoia. Yeah.
Anyway, though, Patrick came with us to see Isilien. We just got back a short time ago – well, most of us did – and luckily, Edwin and his on-again off-again super-memory was able to help Liadrin get the record assembled fairly quickly:
Isilien greets Garrosh, Liadrin, Edwin, and Patrick through a half-opened door and ushers them into the room quickly.
ISILIEN: Hurry in. I don’t want anyone to notice us.
GARROSH: Check.
LIADRIN: Have you seen anything to make you think someone knows we’re doing something?
ISILIEN: I just don’t want to take any chances.
DOAN: Bad enough as it is that this many people are aware of our plans…
EDWIN: Nice to meet you, too.
LIADRIN: Gentlemen, this is Edwin Faranell; I believe you already know his brother Patrick…
ISILIEN: <nods> Edwin.
DOAN: Do any of you have any cousins you’d like to bring along while we’re at it?
ISILIEN: Doan, that’s enough.
GARROSH: Hey, you know, if you’d rather not have our help…
DOAN: As a matter of fact—
ISILIEN: Doan. Lia is a sister of the Light, and we will show her friends the same courtesy we would any ally. Or do you think a paladin of our own order would be turned against us in favor of the undead?
DOAN: Fine. Let’s just get this done.
LIADRIN: Have you had any progress in your study of the crystal?
ISILIEN: Yes and no. I’m still certain it could be harnessed to repel undead attackers, but it’s a matter of how.
DOAN: Especially without the crystal being available to us directly for long.
ISILIEN: <nods> Alexandros is right to want the crystal forged into a weapon – that singular object would be a devastating force on the front lines when the undead inevitably come. But it also limits our options here.
LIADRIN: Isilien, would it be possible for me to examine it more closely myself?
ISILIEN: <nods> Briefly.
Isilien sets Mograine’s chest out on the table and opens it. The light crystal floats up from the chest and hovers over it, rotating slowly. Liadrin steps up close, with Edwin and Patrick following close behind her.
PATRICK: Heavens…
ISILIEN: The crystal’s energy is…curious.
EDWIN: How so?
DOAN: For one, it doesn’t resemble any kind of enchantment I’ve ever seen. I haven’t an idea of how the crystal could have been imbued with this much power in the first place.
GARROSH: Didn’t you imbue it yourself? Pouring all your holy spells into it?
ISILIEN: That triggered its transformation from its dark form, but no, it’s not as simple as us filling it with our magic. The power contained in the crystal is far beyond what we cast on it.
EDWIN: You mean the shadow and light forms of the crystal are just different manifestations of the same energy, that it already had?
LIADRIN: More that the crystal absorbed and generated holy energy…whatever was cast on it was taken in and magnified.
ISILIEN: Exactly…it’s as if it were a generator of sorts for that energy.
Liadrin steps closer as they continue to talk, and holds her palm toward the crystal. The crystal glows a bit more brightly, floats toward her, and rests against her hand; she gingerly holds it as the light pulses softly.
PATRICK: So it’s a power amplifier, in a sense? Potentially unlimited? Is that the curious part?
ISILIEN: Partly.
DOAN: But it also…it still seems to be carrying traces of shadow magic in it.
EDWIN: <leaning in closer> Remnants of its dark state?
DOAN: Possibly. Or not even traces, per se, so much as…well…responsiveness to shadow magic. As if it recognizes its presence and is drawn to it.
LIADRIN: Just as it was drawn to the light when it was in its darkened state.
DOAN: If it were a living thing and not a crystal, I would be tempted to say the shadow traces were more traces of memory.
ISILIEN: Crystal or not, it seems to…like you, Lia…
The crystal continues pulsing and emitting a soft hum.
LIADRIN: It does seem to…
The crystal glows more brightly, flashing more rapidly, then emits a sudden bright flash. Liadrin, startled, recoils and drops the crystal, which falls against the edge of the table. A small fragment of the crystal breaks off and bounces against Edwin’s arm; he lets out a pained shout and collapses to the ground, unconscious.
PATRICK: Edwin!
Patrick kneels quickly to check on his brother while Liadrin rubs her head and steadies herself again. The crystal returns to its normal glow and resumes hovering over the table again.
GARROSH: Is he okay?
PATRICK: He’s unconscious, but breathing.
GARROSH: What happened, anyway?
DOAN: I haven’t a clue. The crystal hasn’t reacted to anything like that before.
LIADRIN: <still rubbing forehead> I think that was me.
GARROSH: Patrick, help me get him onto the bed till he comes to.
ISILIEN: What did you do, Lia?
Garrosh and Patrick pick Edwin up and stretch him out on the bed nearby. Garrosh returns to the others while Patrick sits on the bed.
LIADRIN: I thought I could use some holy magic to get a better read on it…sort of a poor man’s Mind Vision, I suppose. I must have…startled it, for lack of a better word.
ISILIEN: That would account for the light surge. I’m not sure why that fragment would have harmed your friend, though.
Doan carefully picks the fragment up from the floor. It gives off a dull glow in his hand.
DOAN: Either way, it may have given us a possible way around our limited access to the crystal…
ISILIEN: Assuming this one has the same properties.
LIADRIN: Only one way to find out.
Liadrin casts Flash of Light on the crystal, which pulses a bit more brightly. Isilien casts on it as well, causing another increase in its brightness. Doan stares curiously at the fragment shimmering in his hand.
ISILIEN: So far, so good.
DOAN: It’s…very soothing. How did it feel when you were holding the crystal, Lia?
LIADRIN: <hesitates> Much the same.
PATRICK: Good news, everyone. I think Edwin is coming to.
GARROSH: What happened to him?
DOAN: I don’t know why a surge of holy magic would have been harmful.
EDWIN: I think I… How long was I out?
PATRICK: Just a few minutes.
EDWIN: <sighs and rubs his head> Just a second…
GARROSH: Maybe, I don’t know, just a random blast from when it cracked…
DOAN: It only hurt him when the fragment actually touched him, though.
EDWIN: Okay, so…
PATRICK: Don’t strain yourself if you’re still groggy.
EDWIN: No, I’m fine. So…I think that surge might have gotten me because I’d been spending a lot of time around Kel’Thuzad the last few days…
ISILIEN: What would Kel’Thuzad have to do with it?
EDWIN: <rubbing his eyes> He’s been experimenting with necromancy.
DOAN: I’d heard humors about that. Very troubling…
EDWIN: He was showing me and Helcular some of the magics he’s been working with. I think it might have left some residual necrotic magic around me that the light there may have homed in on…
GARROSH: Seems like that would make sense.
EDWIN: Yeah, so… <tries to sit up, then groans>
PATRICK: Don’t, you’re still shaky. Just lay back and rest while we work.
ISILIEN: If that’s the case with the fragment, though, that could be our way to use it.
EDWIN: <aside to Patrick> I’m fine, I’ll stay and rest. You go help them.
LIADRIN: What do you have in mind?
ISILIEN: Considering what we saw happen with the dark and light forms of the crystal, it makes sense to suppose this object thrives on a sort of dark/light duality. When dark, it seeks and absorbs holy magic in order to assume its light form. And while light, it’s drawn to shadow magic, in this case to more harmful effect.
GARROSH: You know, I think I know where you’re going with this.
Patrick returns to the others.
ISILIEN: Released in the presence of a more potent – almost living, even – source of shadow magic, I think we could set it up to respond with much greater force. Destroying, or possibly purging the magic it finds.
LIADRIN: In other words…expose undead to this and the light will target them, then either destroy them outright or dispel the undeath that’s reanimated them?
ISILIEN: I think so, yes.
DOAN: It should be workable. We just need to charge it with more holy energy and come up with a way to keep it contained until we would need to deployed to repel the undead.
PATRICK: I think I can be of some help with that.
Patrick starts rifling through a box of assorted junk and magic items he’d brought with him.
GARROSH: I was wondering what all that crap was.
PATRICK: Oh, just some odds and ends I thought might be— Wait, what’s this? <looking over what looks like a crystalline turtle> Probably not important. It’ll come to me later. <tosses it aside> Where was I? Oh, that’s right. Some assorted things I though might come in handy. <pulls out an ornate rod> Huh…enchanting rod…funny I’d have that seeing as I’m not an enchanter.
GARROSH: So how much stuff do you have in there that you don’t actually know what it is?
PATRICK: Oh, who keeps track of these things. <brandishes the rod> Also good for channeling, I suppose. Which I also won’t be doing…
EDWIN: I think Helcular could use one of those.
PATRICK: <shrugs and tosses it onto the floor> Here, give it to him, we don’t need it for anything. Ah ha!
GARROSH: What ah ha?
DOAN: Isilien, I’m starting to think this friend of yours might be a little crazy.
PATRICK: Ah! Good news, everyone, I found it! Just what the doctor ordered!
Patrick pulls a polished bronze canister from the box – less than a foot on each side, runes engraved in a horizontal band, and a rounded lid on top.
ISILIEN: What is it?
PATRICK: Let’s see how crazy I am now, Doan. The correct answer is very.
DOAN: Fine, fine, but what is it?
PATRICK: <hands the canister to Doan> Oh, just an ordinary canister.
DOAN: I don’t really see how that’s usef—
PATRICK: That’s no ordinary canister!
ISILIEN: Didn’t you just…
EDWIN: Just let him. It goes faster.
PATRICK: This isn’t just your standard polished inscribed jewel-encrusted bronze box, oh no…
GARROSH: Actually, I don’t see any jewels…
PATRICK: Hey, those student loans aren’t going to pay themselves.
EDWIN: That’s fine. Don’t listen to the incapacitated guy.
PATRICK: What we have here is a mirrored reliquary. Its interior is enchanted to reflect magic back on itself and keep it contained within the canister indefinitely – basically takes a magical source and forces it to charge itself up even further. Sounds about right, doesn’t it?
DOAN: Damn near perfect.
ISILIEN: Indeed. I assume the fragment would have to stay sealed inside the reliquary at all times?
PATRICK: Until we need its energies unleashed, yes.
ISILIEN: In that case, the only thing left is to come up with a way to set it to release the energy in the presence of undead.
PATRICK: Well, it’s not even so much the undead themselves, as the presence of shadow magic? Or…whatever it’s called, necrotic something-or-other, the energy that reanimates them?
DOAN: Assuming we can put this together, by the way, where would you suggest using it, Isilien?
ISILIEN: For all intents and purposes, we’re creating a bomb that doesn’t detonate until its target is right on top of it. I’d suggest we plant it in one of our cities, such that, should the undead begin to invade, it will serve the ward off the first wave.
DOAN: Where would you suggest? Andorhal? Stratholme? Lordaeron proper?
ISILIEN: There’s no telling where the undead might move first. But Southshore is where we made our discovery. I think it’s as good a place as any to receive our first attempt at safeguarding.
DOAN: Here in Southshore it is, then.
PATRICK: As for releasing the energy… I’m fairly sure I could work up some sort of gadgetry that would react to exposure to necrotic energy, and unseal the reliquary.
DOAN: You know how to do that?
PATRICK: I’ll have you know I’ve had a fair bit of training in engineering.
EDWIN: Granted, when he builds something, a lot of the time he gets a little too creative for his own good.
PATRICK: Oh, people just like to complain.
EDWIN: He’s all about the coulda, not the shoulda.
PATRICK: Fine, fine. Everyone’s always in favor of cloning dinosaurs, but harness one to a shark equipped with a ray gun and rocket boosters and oooh, suddenly you’ve gone too far.
DOAN: Wait, you mean you…?
EDWIN: <sitting up on the bed and stretching> Don’t give him a chance to dig out the blueprints, really.
PATRICK: <chuckles> Anyway, though… The point is, I’m pretty sure that we can assemble some sort of trigger mechanism that will react to nearby shadow energies. Then, out comes the powerful, cleansing light.
Garrosh helps Edwin to his feet, then looks to Liadrin, who returns his nod.
GARROSH: I seems like you guys have this under control, so I think we’re going to help Edwin here back to his room and let you all get to work.
LIADRIN: As fascinating as this last part of the project is, I’m sure those of us not mechanically inclined would only be in the way.
ISILIEN: Understandable. Your friend could stand to get some rest, in a place that isn’t full of people chattering on.
EDWIN: You have no idea, my friend.
ISILIEN: Thank you all for your help with this.
GARROSH: No problem, Isilien.
LIADRIN: Our pleasure, Isilien. Also, if I might offer a word of advice for after you’re finished here?
ISILIEN: Yes?
LIADRIN: Everything that’s happened in this room…it should stay in this room. Don’t spread word of what you’ve done – or what happened with Mograine’s crystal – to anyone.
ISILIEN: I know how to be discreet, so no concerns there.
GARROSH: Yeah, but at the same time, you also seem to like to bring people in for help. You want to be careful even about your allies.
DOAN: See, I keep telling you you’re too trusting.
GARROSH: I’m just saying, you need to keep your guard up about this stuff. I mean, even if someone looks trustworthy, you can’t just take them at face value. I’ve had my own…dealings…with the undead. They’re not all slobbering zombies stumbling around groaning about brains. You never know who you’re really dealing with, no matter how things look on the surface.
ISILIEN: <eyes growing wide> You…you’re right. The undead could be anyone – we can’t trust anyone outside our own circle…
GARROSH: Anyway! Let’s get Edwin back to his room. Night, guys.
PATRICK: I’ll come check on you later, Edwin.
LIADRIN: Goodbye, all.
EDWIN: Thanks, Patrick. Night.
Garrosh, Edwin, and Liadrin leave the room, close the door behind them, and walk down the hall toward their rooms.
GARROSH: So what’s the verdict about the crystal?
LIADRIN: When I was holding it, it felt exactly the same as when I felt M’uru restoring the Sunwell. That confirms what I already suspected – I think Mograine’s crystal is the spark of a dying naaru.
GARROSH: So you mean the Ashbringer is actually made out of…naaru essence? Crap, no wonder the thing’s so powerful.
EDWIN: Why did it seem to gravitate toward you?
LIADRIN: I’m probably the only person it’s encountered who’s been touched by another of the naaru. M’uru, A’dal… It changes you. I imagine the spark could sense it, maybe even perceived it as kinship.
GARROSH: Well aren’t you special.
LIADRIN: I rather am, actually.
EDWIN: And so, given all of its naaru-driven holy energy, I imagine that fragment knocked me on my ass because I’m… <glancing around to either side as they near their own doors> Well, you know… <holds his arms in an exaggerated marching-zombie pose>
LIADRIN: You are and you aren’t.
EDWIN: How do you mean?
LIADRIN: I mean that yes, the energy rendered you unconscious because of your…normal state. But that’s more of a…it’s hard to explain. Hold on.
Liadrin opens the door to one of the rooms, leads them in, and closes the door behind them.
Look at it this way. When we came through the time portal, we all took on human appearances. But it wasn’t as simple as a glamour or illusion spell. If one of us were injured and went to a doctor, the doctor would be able to examine us, work on us the same as anyone else. They wouldn’t be reaching through some surface illusion and finding an elvish or orich or Forsaken body underneath. Likewise if one of us died, we wouldn’t just revert back to our normal appearances. As long as we’re here in this time, we literally are human.
GARROSH: You’re TRYING to make me sick, aren’t you?
EDWIN: Huh. Interesting. But if that’s the case, I don’t see why the crystal would affect me at all.
LIADRIN: That’s the tricky part. We’re all still carrying vestiges of our old selves, sort of a shadow or overlay of who we normally are. In a sense both our forms still exist, overlapping in the same space, with our current state toggled onto this one on a quantum level, and…
GARROSH: Okay, okay, let’s just say we’re human with a little drop of whatever else before you make my brain go on strike.
LIADRIN: You’re just lucky it was merely the smaller fragment. If you’d touched the main crystal itself it could very well have still killed you, even in this form.
EDWIN: Ouch.
GARROSH: That could have been awkward.
EDWIN: Yes, I would hate to have an awkward death.
GARROSH: I just mean explaining it. Like to your brother.
LIADRIN: I did the best I could just to cover for what did happen.
EDWIN: Okay, well, let’s just drop it. I’ve already had enough real deaths to dwell on, without obsessing on the near deaths too.
So while we’ve been back here in our rooms, Patrick has been staying with Isilien and Doan trying to get their gadget assembled. The good news is that once it’s done, we don’t have to worry too much about tracking it down – we pretty much know that they’re going to plant it somewhere under the inn, which means the cellar, so once Isilien has had time to set it up, we can just get down there, take our readings, and high-tail it out of here.
Which, by the way, we can DO now, because while we were in our meeting, Mokvar managed to catch Tirion’s kid up in the lounge, got him playing with the frog formerly known as Faranell, and got the kid to agree to a trade for the shard. Want to hear the funny part, by the way? I got a kick out of this. I guess when Mokvar first offered to trade with him for the frog, he started out by asking Taelan for the toy warhammer he’s always carrying around, and then let the kid talk him down to the shard. I guess Mokvar figured if he came right out of the gate asking for the shard, the little snot-nose would be less likely to give it up.
Ideally I would have rather had the shard while we were in Isilien’s room, of course, but at this point it’s not worth running back in there and getting everybody’s guard up. My guess is that they’re going to have the reliquary ready by the end of the night, tomorrow morning at the latest, and at that point we should be good to go.
All roads lead to Southshore
So Tirion’s sugar-high kid, Taelan, has been bouncing around non-stop since he got here with Tirion and the rest of his people, but I can’t help but get a kick out of how things are playing out with him. Utvoch ran into him in this little lounge room they’ve got upstairs, and they got to talking a little, and now the two of them have been hanging out up there playing checkers and just generally hanging out and shit. Which come to think of it, sort of kills two headaches with one stone. I can kind of see why Utvoch would gravitate toward the kid – what with him being here with me, Liadrin, Faranell, and Mokvar, he probably misses having someone like Dontrag to hang with. You know, around his own mental level. A little kid might still be overshooting the mark a little, but it’s probably still a pretty major improvement to him.
So he’s been spending most of his time in the lounge, and that’s mostly been keeping the kid quiet(er) while Tirion’s off going about his own business. All we really have to watch for is Utvoch not having any more run-ins with Kel’Thuzad, but I’m not so worried about that as long as he stays upstairs. Kel’Thuzad’s still been bopping around town, but he and Helcular have mostly just been popping into the inn for meals and the occasional drink, and then going about their business. Faranell tells me that Helcular used to live here in Southshore, so odds are KT is staying with him.
Speaking of Kel’Thuzad, and Helcular…and Tirion…and…well, okay, let’s just say speaking of everyone I mentioned in that last paragraph. Last night, Then-Faranell met Kel’Thuzad and Helcular outside the inn and went wandering off for most of the night. Meanwhile, the guy who had come to Southshore with Then-Faranell spent most of the evening hanging out in the common room downstairs, which somehow or other led to him joining Tirion and his group for dinner and generally acting like buddies. All of this led to THIS little informational exchange with OUR Faranell while I was looking out the window to look for KT and company:
GARROSH: Looks like Kel’Thuzad and the rest are still out by the main road.
FARANELL: They’ll be out there a while. We ended up walking around the outskirts for much of the night. You don’t have to worry about us – well, them – turning up until you see them had out toward the river first.
GARROSH: You’re sure?
FARANELL: Yeah, I remember it.
GARROSH: That’s nice and all, but I still have to check on these things. It’s not like you don’t have a track record of forgetting things, like, oh, I don’t know, say, the fact that you WERE HERE IN SOUTHSHORE IN THE FIRST PLACE.
FARANELL: <rubbing his face with one hand> I’d forgotten a lot of things, yeah…
GARROSH: Well, if we’ve got some time before they’re back in town… Hey, Mokvar?
MOKVAR: Yeah, chief?
GARROSH: You’ve got a window to swing downstairs for some grub and a few drinks if you want. Maybe grab Utvoch on your way, might as well feed him while we’re at it.
MOKVAR: He still with the kid?
GARROSH: Hell if I know. Either there or his room, I guess.
MOKVAR: You sure you don’t need for any more note-taking for now?
LIADRIN: I can take over while you eat.
MOKVAR: You sure?
FARANELL: You’re a scribe?
LIADRIN: I’ve been writing a history of the Sunwell for some months now. There’s been a fair bit of research, interviews with people like Lor’themar Theron…
GARROSH: Who?
LIADRIN: …and so I ended up picking up shorthand pretty quickly to be able to keep notes on it all. I’ve noticed Garrosh likes you to keep a record of everything – surprisingly sensible, all things considered – so I don’t really mind helping give you a breather here and there.
MOKVAR: Yeah, thanks. Have to admit, I’ve been starting to get writer’s cramp something fierce this trip.
LIADRIN: It’s fine. Go take a break.
MOKVAR: Thanks. I’ll see if I can find Utvoch on the way down.
GARROSH: See if you can get a look at what Tirion and the rest are up to while you’re down there.
Mokvar leaves.
GARROSH: Speaking of which… Faranell, who IS that guy who showed up with you? Some friend of yours I’m guessing?
FARANELL: I suppose you could say that.
GARROSH: Well who then? Anybody we should be worried about? Please tell me he’s not another recruit for Kel’Thuzad.
FARANELL: No, nothing like that… He’s my brother.
GARROSH: Seriously? I didn’t know you had a brother.
FARANELL: I don’t anymore.
GARROSH: Oh… What happened?
FARANELL: He died.
GARROSH: Well, yeah. Then again, so did you.
FARANELL: In my case it didn’t take.
LIADRIN: I’m sorry, Faranell. Do you mind if I ask what happened?
FARANELL: I suppose it doesn’t really matter at this point. He studied alchemy like me – honestly, he was quite a bit better at it, certainly much more inventive. Three years younger, but years ahead of me as a scientist. He went to study under the high elves in Silvermoon.
LIADRIN: Oh… Oh no.
FARANELL: You know the funny thing? He always did so well in school that he ended up skipping a few grades and getting a head start on his advanced studies. So if he hadn’t been so smart, he probably wouldn’t even have been in Silvermoon when the Scourge came.
LIADRIN: I’m so sorry, Faranell.
FARANELL: That’s why he’s here now. He’s about to begin his studies, and he’s taking a few days to visit me before he goes. He figured he wouldn’t see very much of me over the next couple of years. Always nose to the grindstone with him.
GARROSH: Do I even want to ask?
FARANELL: I don’t know it at the time, obviously, but this weekend is the last time I ever saw him.
GARROSH: Yeah, there it is… Sorry, man. Look, if this is all hitting too close to home, I totally get it if you feel like you need to tuck away in your room till we’re done here.
FARANELL: No, it’s okay. I came here to a job, so let’s get it done. Make the future safe for the undead.
This just in – Alexandros Mograine finally turned up today, with Doan and Fairbanks in tow. They disappeared to their rooms right off – gotta say, to look at this inn from the outside, you wouldn’t think it had so much guest space up there – and while they’re probably going to be taking some time to settle in and rest from their trip and such, them being here means Liadrin and I are going to be on full-time watch downstairs. Updates to follow.
All my troubles seemed so far away
Okay, so remember what I was saying about not wanting any more complications? Yeah, I should probably know better by now than to say shit like that. Mokvar, Faranell, and Utvoch just got back from burying the bodies of those Alliance adventurers. At least THAT much went off without a hitch. After they got back, though, Mokvar hit me with the first wrinkle in this whole plan – apparently, back in the day, HE was one of the orcs being held in Durnholde Keep along with Thrall, which could cause the tiny little problem that if he goes there, he runs the risk of…like…running into himself, and…I don’t even know what that would do to the timeline. Liadrin could probably explain it, seeing as she actually seems to understand this timey-whimey crap, but who has the patience, right? Bottom line is, we have Mokvar troubles.
Oh, but the Mokvar business isn’t even the biggest fucking-up-the-timeline issue we have to deal with. Oh no, we’ve got ANOTHER wrinkle to deal with that will make you wish you could go back to the happy-go-lucky headaches of the Mokvar thing. Because check THIS out – it turns out our buddy Faranell has his OWN issues here. And in HIS case, they’re not even as straightforward as Mokvar’s crap. Because check out what the guys got blindsided by on their way back to town, keeping in mind that right now our boy Faranell looks just like he did back in his pre-undead human days…
Faranell, Mokvar, and Utvoch walk down the main street in Southshore, heading toward the inn.
UTVOCH: Wow, you really get EVERYTHING written down in that notebook of yours, huh?
MOKVAR: It’s actually not as hard as you would figure, once you work out a good shorthand system.
UTVOCH: You’ll have to show me sometime, that could come in pretty handy with the next class I take.
MOKVAR: Are you still working on those?
UTVOCH: Yeah, I have to repeat the last one what with them failing me when me and Dontrag handed in the same term paper.
MOKVAR: Wait, Dontrag?
UTVOCH: Yeah, I talked him into taking one of the classes with me, but then he got sick of the homework, and we tried to save time by splitting it up, and…
FARANELL: Wait, you mean it didn’t occur to you that they would notice if you both handed in the same paper for the same class?
UTVOCH: Well yeah, who’d figure they’d remember something like that?
FARANELL: I never thought I’d say this, but I’m starting to think Garrosh is heroically well-mannered…
MOKVAR: Heh, you should see when—
VOICE: <calling from behind the trio> Faranell!
Faranell, Mokvar, and Utvoch exchange quick puzzled looks before starting to turn.
MOKVAR: That can’t be good…
UTVOCH: What the…?
FARANELL: Crap, I think I know… <turning> Oh…um… Hey, Kel’Thuzad.
Kel’Thuzad of Dalaran, accompanied by Helcular, approach the group.
KEL’THUZAD: I thought I recognized you. Good to see you as always, Faranell, it’s been too long.
FARANELL: Um…yes, yes it has, Kel’Thuazd. Just…busy with research, you know how it is.
KEL’THUZAD: <nodding> All too well. I’ve been spending a fair bit of time away from Dalaran myself of late.
Faranell nods nervously while Mokvar and Utvoch edge a step behind him.
FARANELL: Right…so…
KEL’THUZAD: You’ve met Helcular?
HELCULAR: I don’t think so, as I remember.
UTVOCH: Isn’t he the guy that—
Mokvar elbows Utvoch, who (miraculously) shuts up.
FARANELL: No, um, we are meeting now for the first time. Yes…ahem…good to meet you, Helc—erm, that is…Hecklevar, you said your name was? Sorry, I, um, I’m not very good with names that I have never heard before today.
HELCULAR: Helcular.
FARANELL: Ah, okay, Hel-cu-lar. Got it. But, um, yes, nice to meet you.
KEL’THUZAD: And your friends here…?
FARANELL: Oh… Oh, yes… <looks back to Mokvar and Utvoch, then back to Kel’Thuzad> Introductions, yes… Um, well, Kel’Thuzad, this is… Movarius, and…Utley… Old friends of mine from Brill. Fellows, this is Kel’Thuzad, archmage of the Kirin Tor…
KEL’THUZAD: <nodding to them> Gentlemen.
UTVOCH: Hey.
MOKVAR: Archmage.
KEL’THUZAD: Are they also…students, Faranell? Were you bringing them for our meeting?
UTVOCH: Well no, not until next semest—OWW!
MOKVAR: I don’t. Think that’s. What he was talking about. Utley.
FARANELL: Our meeting…oh. Oh! <rubbing his chin nervously> Oh…crap…
KEL’THUZAD: Faranell?
FARANELL: Oh… Um, no, no, Kel’Thuzad, I just…um…
KEL’THUZAD: You seem upset. Is something wrong, my friend?
FARANELL: I… No, I… They’re not here for the meeting, Kel’Thuzad. I just happen to… Well, you see, we try to come to Southshore for a fishing trip every so often, just an old custom going back to when we were kids, you know…
KEL’THUZAD: I see. Why were you so distraught there for a moment, then?
FARANELL: Distraught?
KEL’THUZAD: Yes.
FARANELL: Was I distraught?
KEL’THUZAD: You seemed it.
HELCULAR: You said “Oh crap” for some reason.
FARANELL: Oh. Did I?
HELCULAR: Yes, you did.
KEL’THUZAD: That’s what I heard as well.
MOKVAR: <skimming notes> I have you down for “Oh crap” too, yeah.
FARANELL: Not. Helping.
KEL’THUZAD: Is something wrong?
FARANELL: Oh… Well, no, I guess I just said “Oh crap” because…well…I’d actually forgotten about our meeting. Was that…today? What’s the date today anyway?
HELCULAR: It’s the fourteenth.
FARANELL: <eyes go wide a moment> Oh no…the fourteenth… How did I not remember that was the day…
KEL’THUZAD: You did receive my letter, did you not?
FARANELL: Oh yes…I did… It was just…some time ago, and it slipped my mind entirely…
KEL’THUZAD: <chuckles> You’re as forgetful as always, my friend.
FARANELL: Well, yes. I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.
KEL’THUZAD: You should try to rest more. We can’t have you falling ill.
HELCULAR: What is you friend writing, by the way?
FARANELL: Pardon?
HELCULAR: Your friend’s been writing something down all this time.
FARANELL: Oh.
Faranell turns to Mokvar, who’s still jotting things down in his notepad.
KEL’THUZAD: That is rather curious.
FARANELL: Oh…well…you see… Hmm. What are you writing, Movarius?
MOKVAR: Oh. Me?
HELCULAR: You haven’t stopped writing for more than a few seconds at a time.
FARANELL: Yes, that is rather peculiar behavior for someone who isn’t doing anything conspicuous or out of the ordinary at all.
MOKVAR: Oh… Well…um…well, I’m a writer, you see.
KEL’THUZAD: Oh?
MOKVAR: Yes… Well, a poet, actually.
UTVOCH: You are—? OWW!! I mean, um, you are.
MOKVAR: Right. And so, well, I’m just…always jotting down ideas. Thoughts, images, turns of phrase…you know the creative process, can’t pick and choose when inspiration will strike, right?
HELCULAR: So you’re working on something now?
FARANELL: Oh, he’s…he’s always working on something. That’s my old friend Movarius, always toiling over a new masterpiece…
KEL’THUZAD: You know, my cousin is a writer as well. I always admired his talent. It’s one of those skills I’ve never really mastered myself.
MOKVAR: Um, thanks… It’s really nothing…
KEL’THUZAD: Oh, don’t be modest.
HELCULAR: I’d be curious to hear what you’re working on.
MOKVAR: I…what?
KEL’THUZAD: Indeed! Would you mind sharing a bit?
FARANELL: Oh, um, I’m sure Movarius wouldn’t want to eat up everyone’s valuable time…
MOKVAR: Yeah, definitely, I’m sure you both have much more important things to be doing…
KEL’THUZAD: Nonsense! One needs to take the time to enjoy these sorts of pleasures.
HELCULAR: I find I don’t do nearly as much pleasure reading as I would like, so it would be fascinating to hear from an actual working poet, honestly.
MOKVAR: Oh…okay…well then… <flips through a few pages in his notepad> Well, okay, how about this one… There once was an elf named Sylvanas / Who cried—you know what, um, I’m really not comfortable reading this while it’s still just a draft.
HELCULAR: Oh.
FARANELL: It’s all right, Movarius, don’t distress yourself… <patting Mokvar on the back reassuringly, while looking to Kel’Thuzad and Helcular> He tends to get very anxious and protective about his work, you see…
KEL’THUZAD: Ah, I understand. So sorry, Movarius, I didn’t mean to put undue pressure on you.
HELCULAR: <muttering> Temperamental artists…
KEL’THUZAD: I’m sure when you’re satisfied with it, it will be an epic work indeed. You’ll have to send a copy to me when it’s done.
MOKVAR: Sure, sure…might take a while, but sure.
FARANELL: At…um…at any rate, Kel’Thuzad, I should probably see my friends to the inn, but I’ll speak with you about our…business…soon.
KEL’THUZAD: <nods> Of course, Faranell. In the meantime, I may go ahead and begin discussing matters with Helcular.
FARANELL: By all means. I’ll… Um, I’ll talk to you shortly.
KEL’THUZAD: Until then, my friend.
UTVOCH: Nice meeting you, Kel’Thu—oh HEY, is that the guy who—OWW!
Kel’Thuzad starts to walk off with Helcular.
KEL’THUZAD: Keep your voice down, Helcular. Strangers abound…
HELCULAR: So you can teach me this…this…
KEL’THUZAD: Necromancy. It is called necromancy…
Kel’Thuzad and Helcular walk out of earshot while Faranell, Mokvar, and Utvoch make their way toward the inn.
FARANELL: We…really need to get inside before things take a bad turn here.
MOKVAR: You mean when Kel’Thuzad comes looking for you again?
FARANELL: No, I mean when I arrive in Southshore.
Yeah, how do you like THEM apples? For those of you not keeping score at home, our buddy Faranell totally forgot that we just happen to be snooping around Southshore right around the same time HE was traveling to Southshore, as in his old human pre-undead self. Which means that at any point, a duplicate human Faranell could show up right on top of us, which might make things just a TINY bit more complicated as far as making sure none of us cross our own timelines or whatever that shit was that Chromie was blathering on about.
I’ll write more in a little while. Right now I think I need to run downstairs and see if the innkeeper’s got any aspirin, because this whole stinking mess is giving me a frigging headache. I wish this whole damn thing was over. Only it IS. Only it’s NOT. AAAAAAAHHHH I hate this fucking time travel bullshit…
Spare the rod, spoil the Helcular
So Helcular wasn’t exactly the most help in the world. I’m not sure if he’s just been sort of batshit ever since he was raised as undead from the Southshore graveyard a few years back, or if he was always kind of unstable, or what, but dude could not stay on topic for all his flipping out and panicking about what had happened down at the ruins. To be fair, I suppose being at ground zero of some freakish anti-necromantic explosion that took out most of your team, and just barely escaping from having the unlife sucked clean out of you yourself, well, I guess I can see how that might freak you out. And Helcular being a mage, and kind of a bookish one at that, I can see how he might not exactly be the battle-tested kind of guy who deals with adversity well.
But DUDE, I can’t POSSIBLY overstate how much he was spazzing out over everything. Could not keep him on topic for more than thirty seconds at a time, so I spent practically the whole conversation having to slap him around to try to get him back on track. Now granted, I probably didn’t help matters when Kaal arrived with an update from Southshore, and I let him give his report in front of Helcular. Turns out, those shimmery purple lines are still expanding outward – slowly enough that you can’t notice it with the naked eye, but still moving and stretching little by little, apparently gravitating toward other centers of necromantic energy. As in, places where there are lots of undead. So eventually – slowly, but eventually – this thing is going to spread.
Which as you can imagine, is just what panicky jittery Captain Freak-Out Hercular needed to hear, and yeah, a few more beatings ensued to get him to stop fluttering about. Eventually, after enough enforced focus to make my frigging hands sore, I was able to drag this much out of him: Helcular used to live in Southshore, where he knew Kel’Thuzad back in his pre-lich days, and had studied necromancy under him. Because nothing could go wrong there, as we all know. But he couldn’t think of anything they could have done that could have had a hand in what’s happened – the training and practice he did in the vicinity of the town was all small-potatoes stuff, and from what he could remember, Kel’Thuzad kept his distance whenever he was doing anything major. He did remember one point some years back, though, when a bunch of people from the Knights of the Silver Hand were hanging around the town. They were being pretty hush-hush, but were still attracting enough attention that he could remember strangers turning up in the town and lurking around snooping on them…so there’s a fair chance they were up to something. And considering how those paladins wound up taking an interest in the Scourge, it sounds like there’s at least enough of a possible link to be worth following up on.
And again, let me just stress that pretty much every sentence of that was spread out over two of three smackings and a frustrated “Man, will you PLEASE try to pull yourself the fuck TOGETHER?”
Anyway, though, we’ve got another lead to follow, even though I’m not exactly thrilled where it’s leading. But, I’ve already had Eitrigg send a message up to Hearthglen in the Western Plaguelands, and I’m getting ready to head north. Not going to lie to you, I’m not looking forward to this at all, but it’s our best in with the Silver Hand, so I guess I’m going to need to go have a sit-down with Tirion Fordring.
Ruins of Southshore
Okay, so remember what I was saying about the Undercity smelling bad? Well I would happily spruce up the aroma of Grommash Hold with some Undercity potpourri before I took too many deep breaths around Southshore the way it is right now. Holy shit, it’s like somebody went down to the Apothecarium, put together an olfactory mix tape of their greatest hits, distilled in into some kind of glowing green porridge with a side of asparagus, force-fed eighty tons of the shit to a gang of syphilitic ettins, then locked them all in a closet for three days and let them fart it all out. Like THAT bad. That’s what it’s like down here. I seriously think this is what atrocity must smell like. A piquant blend of genocide and child abuse.
I knew Sylvanas’ people had used Southshore as a test site when I gave them the go-ahead to start up their plague research again, but even I wasn’t prepared for the sheer scope of what they had going on here. It isn’t even a town anymore so much a slimy green puddle, with these living goop thingamajigs squirming around the place. It’s actually kind of scary to imagine they were able to crank all this out so quickly in the window I’d left them to resume work. I can only figure some of the apothecaries were so fired up to be able to get back to it that they really threw themselves into it in a huge flurry of activity right off the bat.
Anyway, the bunch of us – myself, Drok, Cromush, Mokvar, and a handful of warlocks and alchemists who came with – spent some hours scouring over the place looking for any clues about where the anti-plague effect had come from. It wasn’t until some of the locks (who, by the way, actually aren’t big fans of socks – apparently we’ve got a bunch of hippie sandal-wearing warlocks these days…terrific) tried some kind of incantation spell that we started getting somewhere. They were able to make these shimmery purple ribbons visible around the town, almost like hazy purple flames. Kaal Soulreaper, one of our locks, explained to me that the haze was made up of the traces of a potent magic effect, which you could see spreading and scattering all around the town – most likely, he said, leaving those purple traces along the paths the effect took bouncing from one undead to the next. So what we were looking at was the hazy footprints of their deaths. Or re-deaths. Or whatever.
So, tracing back to where the haze was at its most dense was the most likely way to get to the starting point. That brought us to the old town inn – specifically, underground, beneath the cellar. From somewhere down there, all the purple ribbons came spreading out, up through the cellar and out of the ground along the outer walls of the building. Whatever it was exactly, it looks like it detonated there. And according to the warlocks’ best guess, the haze will continue holding the “contagion” until it dissipates. As for how long that will take, they ballparked it somewhere between hours and centuries. So, lots of help there. Really, guys, I appreciate the info so far, but couldn’t you give me a LITTLE better idea of when it’s going to be safe for the Forsaken to come back down here? Is it tomorrow or the end of time, or what?
The next question that comes to mind is, you know, how the fuck this magic doohickey got there. And since we have a fairly powerful magic-user on staff who actually has a pretty long history with Southshore, I’m thinking it’s time I had some face time with our man Helcular. He had been supervising things in Southshore before everything went kablooey, at which point he was evacuated to Tarren Mill with as many other Forsaken as they could pull out in time. I’m having Cromush and Drok continue the work down here in Southshore while I fly up to see him. More soon.
