“Name?†Commander Sharp whispered from the corner of his mouth.
“He refuses to say, sir.†Sharp sighed; he hated having to improvise protocol. In fact, he just plain hated protocol. Ordered to drown an accused felon caught him completely off guard. As it was Winter Veil Eve, his men would be receiving bonuses and he was disappointed to see even this drumhead didn’t dampen their festive mood.
“Darkspear, you have been charged and found guilty of espionage against the people of Stormwind. Your actions are punishable by death. Do you have any last words?â€
For the past thirty minutes, Shoo’s thoughts had been racing. Down in the stockade, following his arrest and so-called trial, he learned he was to be transported to the harbor. Seeing as none of the ships were bound for any known neutral territories, he figured there was only one place he was going… down.
Calmly, he recalled where the race, or puzzle if you will, began… Stonard. The miniscule village had been his sister’s second home. It was small, unassuming, but was also embedded in a carnival of life. The flowers had beckoned her and the roaming beasts gave an edge to her simple hobby. He came there, one year after she died, to celebrate her life. He hunted, courteously leaving inferior skins for the occasional passerby, but spent much of his time admiring the flora. Tears flowed, unexpectedly, one afternoon as he knelt before a patch of sorrowmoss. Shessuna would have been pleased to discover this flower, with its sad bloom, thriving in the Swamp.
Dozing off in Stonard the night before the Eve of the Veil, he looked forward to the flight to Stranglethorn a few hours from now. He would spend the holiday where he lost Shessuna. He was assured others would be there as well to share his loss. With Yupes, his aging but vigilant worg guarding their corner of the inn, Shoo slept dreamless. In the middle of the night he started at the sound of cries ringing out. His wolf was gone, but he could hear her: She was chasing something. Squinting, he stepped across the warm stone floor and saw guards running this way and that.
“Who ya skirmishin’, Malosh?†he asked the livid warrior.
“Apparently a rogue slipped past the vermin we call sentries. As no blood was spilt, I assume it was some Marshtide scum here to rob the facility. Now I’ll be up until morning helping Dar do inventory, damn everyone’s hide!â€
Yupes trotted in, evidently robbed of her pursuit and the pair headed back for sleep. He stopped and stared at his hammock. Driven into his pillow was a long, evil-looking dagger skewering a yellowed parchment. He pulled it free and read the message meant for him.
Bring the doll to Stormwind or else the priest dies.
Bethlamae… someone had apparently exposed her roll in the Frostwolf Clan incident and, for either profit or some kind of twisted justice, wanted to make this ugly. If they weren’t, they would be assured he was going to.
As dawn was shaking free its frosty coat, he and Yupes were dodging widows through the narrow stretches of Deadwind. Come high noon of Winter Veil Eve, they cautiously maneuvered the Darkened Bank.
Soldiers, guards and officials blanketed Elwynn Forest, no doubt an offshoot of the catastrophic events months ago. Since that near-fatal affair in Alterac, he found an appreciation for tactical survival and it served him well late into that day. Studying the gates of Stormwind in the dazzling setting sun, he lashed his weapons to his companion and took her by the muzzle; she licked his face apprehensively.
“Circle, eh? Circle and be watchin’… shh.†The animal turned and trotted along the wall in the direction he pointed. The hunter waited unhappily until she vanished from sight then stepped into plain view. He was seized before taking his first step into the festively-lit city. Night began to fall on the capital and with it, a respectful hush.
Two hours later, he found himself standing on one of the harbor docks, chained to an old rusted anchor. They could barely get the flaking undersized manacles around his thick limbs. It didn’t matter; they’d hold for the few minutes they were needed. Sharp was uneasy with this decree. Being Winter Veil, the Grand Admiral Jes-Tereth suggested carrying out the sentence with as little attention as possible and knew how. The commander saw no way around it.
When he asked if the troll had any final say all he received was a icy glance. Those black unrevealing eyes gnawed on Sharp, who looked away with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He gave a nod to one of guards who callously shoved both the criminal and anchor over.
“Take his belongings to the cathedral---†was the last thing Shoo heard as he struck the water.
The troll took one massive breath and conjured the drums his mother played for him as a child. Not of battle, but the lucid dreaming beats that slowed his heart and brought calm. He plunged to the bottom, counting all the while. It took five seconds to touch down and then he began to work. The chains were weak but he couldn’t break the one secured to the anchor. The simple locks would be a cinch to pick; he just needed a fragment of rock or sliver of metal.
Coolly counting down the two minutes he knew his immense lungs could hold their closing breath, the hunter sifted the terrain. A flash of movement caught his eye in the black water and he looked up in time to see an impossibly huge mouth positioning to cut him in two. He rocketed off the seafloor as a Bluetip Thresher slammed into where he was just kneeling. The bracelets bit into Shoo’s limbs.
Instinctively, he mounted the shark’s back, locking his heels into its gills and looped his anchor chain into its enormous maw. Set off by the stench of rust and prey, it struggled wildly to free itself. Shoo had less than a minute of air left. He dug his legs into the beast’s sides, its gill rakers lacerating his calves. The shark frantically fought the restraint and as blood tainted the water the monster went berserk, whipping madly and thrashing its jaws.
Shoo’s vision turned sparkly white as he ticked off the final seconds. He raked the chain back and forth and the predator bit voraciously, teeth swirling down like big, wet snowflakes. The tether finally snapped…
Shoo gave the thresher a tremendous kick between the eyes, stunning it and he broke for the surface. The fish vanished, realizing its disadvantage. As the hunter’s vision went from stars in his head to those high above, the first thing he saw was an apprehensive Commander Sharp looking him straight in the eye.
“Better give him a couple more minutes, son; he looked a hardy one.â€
“Aye aye, sir.†Shoo gave the officer a breathless nod and Sharp turned his back apathetically.
Gripping the small pier, he took huge silent gasps of air. Was this Sharp the one who sent the message? It made no sense. He spit from his mouth a jagged shark tooth and jimmied the cuffs from his raw wrists and ankles and they sunk below.
The harbor was softly lit with holiday lights and undermanned. The elderly troll found it amazingly easy to make his way to the Old Barracks district. He had to scramble though; the alarm would sound at any moment. Crossing Cathedral Square he didn’t know what to do next… the church was filled with tranquil song. The square itself was completely still except for its murmuring fountain. He stopped before the plaque bolted to its foundation. Among its inscription, several words stood out like an omen:
You will never be forgotten…
“Count on it, little elf.â€
Shoo relaxed his shoulders and walked resolutely toward the soaring spiked towers.
“Halt! In the name of the Stormwind Guard!†From nowhere, three sentries encircled the hunter, swords drawn. Shoo held his hands high, weaponless. They were poised to slay him whatever his intention.
Edited, Dec 17th 2012 12:06am by matrigs
Edited, Dec 17th 2012 12:06am by matrigs