Serenity in Solitude

Appropriately it was storming upon Thunder Bluff. The rain came down in blinding sheets, the tents and long houses illuminated for merest heartbeats with the flash of jagged lightning, the plains echoing for miles with the bellow of the resulting thunder.

And then there was the storm inside Paha’s inn.

Like a victim of a ship capsizing she looked, her long red hair flattened and slick with the downpour, her fine robes soaked, leaving a trail of water between her place and the door. Even her tall ears were canted down, rainwater dropleting off them in a slow drip drip drip drip.''

Her silence was louder than the warlike crashing of tall black clouds, darker than a moonless night.

She held the goblet in both hands. Within was a mulled wine, warming her cold, cold fingers. Yet not a drop had slipped past her lips. Instead she swirled it, looking deep into the liquid, like a seer trying to foretell the future, like a witch doctor trying to discern the course of events through entrails.

What was She thinking?

It made no sense. Here I am, skilled in the arts of demon kind, my control as sure as the cold iron manacles that bound the prisoners lost deep in the Lady’s lair. So who does She send to deal with the demon for Her strange machinations? Two skilled in sword and shield … so much like sending a carpenter to fix a fine timepiece with a three stone hammer. That … and to send them into most dangerous lands. Yes, the orc was big and strong and would prove a fine defender. But his companion had seen less summers than she.

Not to mention that the one who should have been keeping that dark haired companion safe …

… was now staring at a goblet of wine in a Tauren tavern.

And my task? Not just the collection of a innocent victim for the Lady’s play – a true task for those who specialize in swords and blugeouning – but into a town whose lords valued so little such that only the most inexperienced of their knights cut their teeth upon their first tours of duty there. By Kael’s word and the Sun’s light, even my Voidwalker could slice them to bits while I might sit back and comb out my tresses.

She looked into her wine, her teeth set upon her lower lip. She considered, just as she did every late evening when they shared the blood rich liquor in Fairbreeze.

No, I am not like her maidservant Bereave. The cut palm that holds the household together, that cruel slice hurts. And I might be many things, but stupid is not one them; I take no enjoyment from that pain. But that is exactly why I it must be done. The hurt is what makes my oath real … and not trivial.

And that is what cuts the most.

Either The Lady - who didn’t even deign to offer her this task; her missive was delivered through her deranged intermediary - Either The Lady was not telling me the truth and thinks I am an idiot … or is, beneath the facade of elegant and visceral malevolence, is herself five cards short of a poker hand.

To travel halfway across the continent and back to collect a human token because folks disappear from there every day and no one will notice. Blue skies help you that the poor soul doesn’t have a family and families have incredibly vengeful memories – especially when their kith and kin disappear without a trace.

When, but a few heartbeats gallop away, there were those who not only were stronger, better fit for Her Ladyship’s use … and yes, they too might have kin and lordship who might acknowledge their loss – but in this case they would be just another soul lost in their crusade, counted along with all the other martyrs who died that day in answer to their call.

Not only that, but the Scarlet Crusade annoyed everybody. While the Alliance might get vexed if they lost their Darkshire citizens, they would probably send congratulatory flowers for the death of a monastery guard.

But no … no … we had to go to Duskwood, to Darkshire.

It made no sense. Was it some sort of test? Rasth, the older demon-tamer, didn’t even question it. Like an automaton doll he wound up and headed straight off. If it was a test, what was She testing?

A test of blind obedience and ignorant loyalty, to do The Lady’s words without question or thought?

If that’s what the Lady wanted she should have just hired two street trolls with a sack.

Blind obedience. That’s one thing I can’t do.

No. It’s one thing I refuse to do.

I’m smart. Damn you Lady, I’m smart. You want me, you have to take this part of me too.

You sent me on a fools errand.

And you expected me not to realize it?

And that final straw, that last twist of the dagger, was I trusted to undertake this task on my own?

Oh no …

Upon this fool’s errand I needed to be assigned a baby sitter.

There I was, listening to Rasth become immeshed in the finding a place to sleep in those ruins which held dark memories for him, some unspeakable horror had crossed his path beneath those silk shrouded trees. And did he tell of them, no, of course not, they were … unspeakable. By the Sun’s light is everyone in this household a closet masochist? There was a warm bed and fire but a short ride away, yet we were supposed to make do with shattered buildings, spiders and a splintery floor?

That’s when I rode across the trail, to a neighboring farm, ordered Helwen to seduce one of the Defias brigands who had made their shelter there, distracting that soon to be lost soul quite sufficiently for me to bop them on the head like some deranged nursery story rabbit.

Rasth was still running house to house when I returned.

But even then the night was salvageable.

Until, in great surety and wisdom, my esteemed colleague, my household mate, proclaimed in words bold, proud and authoritive that here was the most preferred place to take shelter, because here we were perfectly secluded, no one to bother us, no one to overseer our clandestine activities for miles and miles.

Of course that is when the Dwarf ran up, along with a companion Gnome.

I had to point out his nobody was running circles around him.

Did you know gnomes multiply worse than rabbits?

The cool fire of anger, the slow analysis seen within her goblet was shattered as one of the Horde’s great warriors, when a strong Tauren lad stormed in and sat next to her; loud, boisterous and oh so sure of himself.

“Paha … someone asked if you were serving drowned rats today. I answered of course, you’d serve anybody …”

His strong hand slammed down upon the center of the blood elf’s back, knocking her forward, the mock camaraderie both illuminating her as the subject of his words and sending her wine tumbling in a spray of rich magenta.

Surprise played into her hand. The sudden sharp upwards reach, the small fist wrapping in collar and fur, the sudden yank downwards and she was nose to nose with the large bull.

“You got two choices.

“I can rip your soul from your mortal remains so swift your corpse will be halfway out the door before you figure out you’ve just been slaughtered …

“ …or …

“ … you can leave me alone.”

Solitude.

“Think fast.”

You make your own.