The Gulch

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
First Movement: Dreams, And Then Some

Author’s Notes: I’ve taken some liberties with the geography of Menethil Harbor and some of the residents there, most of it is still pretty accurate. I hope you enjoy it.

-1-

The tunnel run was somewhere behind her. Astrid knew that. Sweat rolled off her face, down her arms to the grip of the bow in her hands. Grass flared out all around her, trees darting up over the horizon.

Where’s the fire?

Fire? You smell smoke?

Trolls ran over the top hill towards the tunnel into the Silvering hold. Astrid pulled back her hand to the quiver. Three arrows came out and then-

-skip-

The Alliance flag dashed before her. A trail of blue light fluttered behind the zombie figure that -

What the hell am I doing this again for?

The Gulch, we all love the Gulch.

Who’s we?

-skip-

Astrid pulled both daggers from their scabbards. Metal flew. The Tauren ahead of her dipped low. Of all the horde creatures she hated the Taurens the most. Bad enough you couldn’t tell the males from the females; they all looked alike.

The Tauren rushed forward through the grass. A staff came free from its back and then white-hot fire exploded in Astrid’s right side. Her chest turned into a blast furnace. Something floated where her ribs used to be.

Broken, it’s broken, her mind whispered.

The staff came back again and Astrid brought her daggers up into a quick X to her right. She caught the thing. Her ribs screamed underneath the leather armor that covered them.

Too slow, I’m too slow.

“TOMA!” Astrid screamed. From somewhere to her right by the cliff drop a white wolf stumbled down the steep fall and raced over to where she stood. The Tauren shouted something that she didn’t understand and then the world went dark.

Someone, sapped me, someone sap-


-2-


Astrid came awake, sweat rolling off her body in waves. She tangled herself in the sheets and then fell from the bed; a scream locked between her lungs. Lucidity came back in bits and pieces. The darkened bedroom came into view. She drew in a ragged breath, a phantom bolt of pain running through her side where her ribs had been broken some years ago.

In The Gulch, she thought. Back in The Gulch again.

No you’re not there anymore, a voice whispered. You haven’t been there for years.

She was vaguely aware that the shakes had started again. With a grunt she pulled herself free of the bed sheet. Terris Erinyes rolled over and looked at her. A grog of sleep hazed his eyes.

“You have the dream again?”

Astrid got to her feet, naked, sheathed in sweat. “Yeah.”

A sigh came from beside her. “You should really talk to someone about it. How many months has this been going on now?”

“Too many.” Astrid whispered.

The door to their bedroom creaked open. Astrid flinched, her hand flying down to her naked waist where a weapon should have been. Would have been if she was still on the battlefield, but all of that was over now. She half realized she was doing it and managed to stop.

You’re nowhere near the Gulch; it’s a continent away. You’re in Menethil Harbor.

Right…I know that.

Do you?

From the doorway a small night elf girl poked her head into the room, dressed in a white gown. A giant Ghostpaw Runner stood beside her, its fur grayed from age. A frank expression of wakefulness plastered on the wolf’s face.

“Lilliam, honey.” Astrid said.

“Mama.” The little girl said. She wiped her eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

Toma let out a low soft bark.

“Toma can’t sleep either.” The girl said. She wrapped her arms around the ghostpaw and gave it a hug. The wolf stood at shoulder level to her giving the hug an awkward look.

“I can see that.” Astrid said. A warm smile crossed her edged features. Her long gray ears twitched, strands of ivory white hair plastered to her forehead. “Come here, sugar.”

The girl padded over onto the bed. Terris took her up in his arms. Astrid went to the wooden dresser in the corner of the room and threw on a gown. Her hands trembled as she did it.

I need a drink, she thought. A stiff drink.

The sound of the sea drifted in from the window. Astrid went to it and peered out towards the harbor. A single giant ship was docked on the far pier. Sentry’s strolled back and forth along the walk. Even the dead of night needed protection out in The Wetlands.

“It’s humid tonight.” Astrid said.

“Come back to bed.” Terris said.

She looked back at her husband and daughter in bed. “I think I’ll go for a walk actually.”

“That’s a nasty habit to get into.” Terris said. He smiled though. “Don’t go too far.”

Astrid nodded, and went back to the dresser where she put on a brown tunic and pants. She patted her leg. “Come on, Toma.” The Ghostpaw looked up at her; his giant brown eyes weary and tired. He followed though. Out in the hall she pulled on a pair of dark worn brown boots. The small living room was decorated in hand woven rugs that Astrid had taken a liking too so years back when a gnome had come through peddling them out on the docks. A small polished table took up the center of the room. Hand drawn pictures were tacked to the wall, mostly things that Lilliam had done when she’d gone through her chalk phase. The counter top had several large mugs and small ceramic cups. A large basin stood under the window that looked out the front of the house. The wooden bucket beside it was half filled with water. Astrid dipped her hand in it as she went and rubbed her forehead.

It was just a dream, just a dream, she thought.

A storm’s brewing, Astrid, a voice whispered. She could place that voice all too well. It was Aramin, but he was dead now. His body strung out in the Gulch years ago; entrails spilled halfway towards the horde complex. A sight that stuck with her long after she’d left the grounds.

Warsong, you’ve cost us all, she thought.

Outside the temperature took a mild spike. Astrid stretched. The dark ran thick. A nearby sentry nodded at her as he walked the path leading from the armory to the docks. Astrid waved back. Toma gave a low bark to him.

Most everyone knew her in Menethil. The only night elf to take up permanent residency at the harbor in years. She’d lived in the same house with Terris since their daughter was born seven years ago. Warsong should have been a distant memory. It should have just been a bad chunk of time. All those survival medals a figment of her imagination, but they weren’t.

They call those Marks of Honor, Aramin whispered.

A cynical laugh left her. Marks of Honor? They were nothing more than glorified tablets showing how stupid you’d been to go in and how lucky you’d been to come out. She walked towards the gates of Menethil. The tavern was on the other side of the town, not a far walk. Toma paced beside her, head darting from side to side. She gave his fur a quick ruffle as she walked. Outside the armory a small dwarf with a thick beard stood watch.

She headed off towards the tavern her mind a little more at ease. Already the dream was beginning to tatter at the edges. Outside the tavern a few of the town drunks were passed out on the ground. She eyed them with little interest. Toma let a loose growl escape his jaws.

“Easy, boy.” She whispered. “Let them sleep it off.”

From inside she could hear a drift of voices and laughter brewing. Soft yellow light spilled out of the windows onto the street. Her eyebrows rose. Usually the inn was dead after one in the morning. She glanced up at the stars, it must have been past three already.

Someone interesting must have come in, she thought.

The tavern reeked of hard alcohol. A phantom odor of piss and vomit hovered just beneath the Kingsblood herb the barkeep used to freshen the place. Tables were set up to the left and right. She spotted First Mate Fitz at one of them telling his usual rant about the cursed sailors up the northern coast. Astrid rolled her eyes and weaved her way towards the group at the bar.

“Fitzy quit your story we all have it memorized by now.” She shouted across the room.

The sailor looked up, high red color in his cheeks. “Astrid, my elf from a far! Buy me a drink!”

She laughed and waved a hand at him. The group at the bar looked like regulars except for one. A tall night elf sat at one of the stools, a massive sword strapped to his back. Heavy mail armor covered his body.

“So there I was, surrounded by undead.” He said.

Astrid raised an eyebrow as she came to the bar. Logan Fairmen stood behind the bar seemingly entranced by the story. From her boot she pulled out a small coin pouch and through a silver down on top of the bar top. “Give me a flask of whiskey.”

Fairmen looked up. “Astrid…what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She said.

Beside her the night elf continued. “You can guess how I felt. Outnumbered, outgunned, they must have all been mages, I’m sure of it.”

“Who’s he?” Astrid asked.

“Some warrior from Auberdine, came in on the boat a few hours ago.”

“Auberdine…” Astrid gave the man looking over again. His armor was flawless, no dents or scrapes. The sword on his back gleamed without a trace of wear.

“He’s been gabbing all night.” Fairmen said.

“I took out the first mage in one strike.” The night elf said. “Good old Bertha here,” He tapped the sword pommel. “Brought him down straight away, cut him clean in two.”

“Bull****.” Astrid said.

The bar went silent so fast that Astrid thought her hearing had suddenly dropped out. Even the loud talking elf was quiet for a moment. The humans exchanged glances. Fairmen’s mouth dropped open.

“Excuse me?” The elf said. He turned in his stool to look at her.

Astrid popped the cork of her flask of whiskey and took a deep swig from it. Fire erupted in her stomach. A welcomed sensation. Another few hits and the tremors would die away for the night.

“You heard me.” She said.

What are you doing? Aramin asked.

Nothing I can’t handle.

The elf got up off his stool. Astrid glanced at him. “Don’t try an intimidate me, it doesn’t work.” Beside her Toma let out a low guttural growl.


“I don’t appreciate being called a liar.” The elf said.

“Then don’t lie.” Astrid said.

The humans in the group began to back away from the two of them. Astrid noted that even Fitz had stopped telling his stupid ghost story.

“Duel me.”

“What?” Astrid turned giving him a hard gaze. A battle worn gaze. “Are you drunk or serious? If you’re drunk you can still back down and chalk it up to the booze.”

A flush rose in the elf’s cheeks. Light blue hair fluttered over his eyes. “Watch your mouth harlot.”

“Oh…flyboy….” Astrid whispered. She closed her eyes. “If you’re such a hero why isn’t any of your armor dented or worn. Your sword looks brand new.”

“You’re talking to a Corporal, woman.” The elf said.

I retired as a Field Marshall, Astrid thought.

“Let me guess…The Gulch? Or did you get all that in the basin?” Astrid asked.

The elf stormed her. He crashed through two of the stools. For Astrid everything slowed to a halt. She saw the fly on the countertop flutter away in search of greener pastures and safer shores, the flask of whiskey in her hand falling. A dark coldness settled into her nerves, digging down to the roots. Her body went cool and loose.

He’s slow…too slow, she thought. Just like I was.

She kicked the bar and sent herself falling backwards. Toma lunged over her into the air. The elf and the Ghostpaw collided. Astrid’s back hit the floor. She rolled into a standing position knocking a handful of chairs away from a table in the process. It’s staring to feel like old times isn’t it? The tall elf clawed at Toma. Astrid took two quick steps her legs scissoring into a crouched position. The coldness went deeper in her bones. That old battle haze crawled into her like she was watching everything happen from above.

Toma dropped down and whisked himself away. Astrid moved in one quick stride, her hand flew out and slammed into the elf’s windpipe between the crook of her thumb and forefinger.

The elf’s eyes widened, a choked sound left his mouth. A second later he dropped to his knees clawing at his throat. The reverse déjà vu feeling started to seep out of Astrid. She grabbed the elf’s left arm and raised it above his head. Her free hand made a flat jabbing form.

“The problem with Hillman’s shoulders, “ she said. “Is that it leaves quite a big gap under your armpits that your breastplate won’t cover.” She touched the spot under his arm with the tips of her fingers. “And then Bingo, that’s where they get you. A shot here with a dagger will shred your heart if it’s a dirk; worse if it’s something better.”

She dropped the elf’s arm. His face turned a flushed purple color.

Somewhere behind her she heard Fritz whisper, “I think I pissed myself, Roger.”

“Shut up, Fritz.” Roger said.

Astrid squatted down. “You’re trying too hard to breath.” She said. The dead feeling in her nerves began to drain away leaving her jittery and adrenaline washed. She pushed the elf’s forehead back towards the ceiling. “Keep your head up, it’ll help expand your windpipe.”

A muffled grunt came from the warrior.

A frown crossed Astrid’s face. “Try to relax.” She glanced over at Fairmen and saw him staring at her dumbfounded. It dawned on her that everyone in the tavern had similar expressions on their face.

You did something you shouldn’t have, Aramin whispered.

Yeah…you’re probably right.

Toma came up beside her and licked the end of one long gray ear. “Logan…can you get me a warm washcloth.”

“Y-y-yeah.” Fairmen stuttered. He disappeared behind the bar.

“Lay on your back.” Astrid said. She stripped the large sword from the Elf’s back in one quick motion. “That’s one form of a sap-” She stopped and then looked around the bar. “What’s this flyboy’s name?”

“Pardimor.” Someone said. Astrid tried to find the source but couldn’t.

“Okay, Pardimor, nice and easy.” She lowered the tall elf to a prone position. “Just focus on breathing.”

After a few minutes Logan appeared from behind the bar and tossed her a washcloth. His eyes had a slight shade of fear in them.

See what you’ve done now? Aramin asked.

Shut up, Astrid thought.

Her fingers worked in quick succession and unsnapped Pardimor’s armor. She popped his breastplate off along with his shoulder armor. The warm washcloth ended up on his throat. A small protest came from the elf but Astrid hushed him. “The heat will expand your blood flow, leave it there.”

“Astrid…” A voice said into the tavern.

She turned and saw Terris standing in the doorway, shirtless, a brown pair of pants on. “What’s going on in here?” He asked.

“Your woman just dropped old long, tall and ugly, over there in about thirty seconds.” Fritz burped.

Astrid felt her gaze lock onto Terris. He rubbed at his temples. “Astrid, come on.” He waved to her.

She felt all the eyes in the bar on her, but not in any sort of good way.

They’re going to be afraid of me from now on, aren’t they?

Of course they are, Aramin said.

“Logan take care of flyboy here.” She said.

“Yeah…no problem.” The barkeep said. His voice sounded off key though.

Toma padded behind her out into the darkness of the night. Terris stood out in the open of the cobblestone path that lead back to the house. His hands were buried into the pockets of his trousers.

“We need to talk.”

And here it comes, Astrid thought, Elune help me.


-3-


The two sat in the small living room across from each other at the polished oak table. Terris stared off past her through the kitchen window. “I thought we talked about this back at Theramore Isle.”

“We did.” Astrid said. She felt a creep of red rush into her cheeks. She hadn’t thought about Theramore since Lilliam was born. In her mind it had taken on a faded sort of black ink quality. The way some of the wanted posters tacked up on the entry posts to cities did after they’d been through seasons of weather and the criminals on them had grown old and died. It was almost the same incident all over again.
Who had it been back in Theramore?

Astrid couldn’t remember, but it didn’t really matter. In another week people would begin to look at her different. In another two their whole family would start to get the same stares. Most likely the other children wouldn’t be aloud to play with Lilliam anymore.

Housewives would whisper amongst themselves, “Did you hear what her Mother did?”

“Of course…she’s a lush though, everybody knows it.”

“They should have never let those elves move in.”

She shuddered at the thought.

Terris leaned across the table. “It’s not like we can go back to Shadowglen or Darnassus. After this is Stormwind or Ironforge and we both know someone will recognize you there.” He let out a laugh that sounded more than a little hysterical. “It’s amazing we’ve been able to stay here as long as we have, with the hippo’s flying daily and the ships dropping off people from Auberdine.”

Astrid said nothing. Her body felt shot out; the muscles stripped and blown.

Terris went to the bucket and poured a ladle of water into one of the ceramic cups. “We’ve got it good here for once.” He said. “I know you may not like it, but think about Lilliam.”

That struck a chord. A hurtful one. Astrid looked away from him her eyes clouding. A sudden burst of angry hatred sprouted in her chest. “Stop it, how dare you use our child like that.”

Terris went quiet.

“I’m going to bed.” Astrid whispered. She left the table and went into their bedroom. Lilliam was curled up on one of the pillows, her little arms wrapped around it. Astrid went over and lay beside her. She kissed her child’s forehead. Maybe Terris was right, but even if he were that wouldn’t stop the dreams. She dropped off some time later as the sun was pushing up along the horizon line.

To Be Continued...


END FIRST MOVEMENT

[Chells]

Wow, great start. The little details are great and you left if hanging perfectly (damn you for that too :banghead:).

The only thing that really struck me as dicordant was:
"He let out a laugh that sounded more than a little hysterical." Not a big deal at all but joking seemed wrong. Same words just said earnestly. I guess if husband is a bit afraid of here it works. nm.

I have a suggestion too. If Aramin is going to be long time voice in her head you might want to change font for him. That was you could have him speak and not have to say "Aramin whispered" each time.

Again really great beginning. Look forward to more.

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
Second Movement: Pardimor
By: fallonquinn

Author's Notes: A little short for time this week. Hope you all enjoy.

-1-


She knew she was dreaming the moment her eyes opened. Leather armor covered her body. One of her daggers was buried to the hilt out in the ground, the same blue flicker running down its length into the ground. Blood coursed from her side into the grass. The sky looked dark and overcast; ready to rain at any moment.

And the smoke, she thought, I?m back at the Gulch.

An undead mage rushed past her towards Silverwing's stronghold. Astrid tried to track it but found she couldn?t move her head.

Why am I back here again?

(-Because you never listen-)

Astrid managed to pan her head to the left towards one of the giant rock structures that loomed out of the ground. From around the corner strolled a giant fur covered creature that looked like a cross between some kind of ghostpaw and a sloth. It walked on all fours, the front two paws looked like giant clawed hands; knuckles smashing into the ground.

The sounds of the battlefield muted to a drone in her head. The warmth in her side increased for a moment.

Am I dying?

The creature shrugged in a fashion that was so humanoid it scared Astrid.

(-You die here, you end up someplace else. Die there and it just starts over again-)

What is this?

(-Many different things to many different people-)

A queasy feeling rushed into Astrid?s stomach. For a brief second the horrific thought that she?d vomit and choke on it came to her. She?d seen it happen in the basin before. Some first time warriors would faint dead away and throw up from the sight of something and that?d be the end of them.

Please, Elune, don?t let me die here.

(-You won?t die?you?ve still got work to do-)

She glanced up at the creature. Its giant black eyes stared at her from beneath a patch of salt and pepper colored fur.

Who are you?

A Tauren warrior passed her without even so much as a glance at her or the creature looming above her.

(-You can call me Artemis, Artie, or just Art?whichever you prefer-)

What do you mean I still have work to do?

(-Work you haven?t even started-)

Smoke filled her nostrils. Overhead she saw a swarm of winged riders dart over the battlefield headed to whatever lay ahead for them.

(-The Gulch is the key, sweetheart-)

I can?t go back to The Gulch.

(-But you will, you don?t have a choice in that, lady.-)

No! Astrid tried to scream. Nothing came out of her mouth. Her vision began to blot out and darken around the edges. Something like a smile spread across the creatures face revealing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth four rows deep. Astrid tried to scream again. The creature opened its jaws and lunged for her jugular.

This is where I-


-2-



?-wake up, Mama!? A voice shouted.

Astrid snapped awake, her eyes wide open and bloodshot. Air shrieked out of her lungs in harsh shots like a furnace dumping steam. A hard knot formed in her chest like chorded rope. Light spilled in through the bedroom window. Lilliam was standing beside the bed, a confused expression on her face. She was dressed in a short blue colored dress with straps like an overall.

?Mama??

?Yeah, sweetie?? Astrid whispered. Her eyes stared at the foot of the bed, sweat and adrenaline seeping through her pours.

Just a dream, just a dream.

You can call me Artie?

A shudder ran down her spine.

?There?s someone out front looking for you.? Lilliam said. The girl climbed up on the bed and dropped down into her mother?s lap. ?He?s like us.?

?Like us??

Lilliam grabbed her long gray ears and gave them a disgruntled pull. ?Elfie.? She said.

?Elf, honey.?

?Elf.? Lilliam repeated.

?Where?s your father?? Astrid asked.

?Market.? Lilliam said. She kicked her sandaled feet out over the edge of the bed.

?Did he give a name, sweetie??

?Pardimor.? Lilliam said. ?Funny name.?

****, Astrid thought.

You brought it on yourself, Aramin said.

Astrid grimaced at that voice. ?I?ll be out in a minute.?

Lilliam nodded and hopped off her lap. That done Astrid went to the closet of the bedroom and reached high to the top shelf where she kept a dirk. Pulling it down she stuffed it in her pants at the small of her back.

Flyboy you should have left town, she thought. I might have to do something I?ll regret.

Too late for that, Aramin said.

Astrid pulled the mental switch and Aramin?s voice clicked off.


-3-


Her first instinct told her to roll around the side of the house and catch him by surprise. Garrote his guts over the front lawn while he was still standing outside rubbing his thumbs together.

Wouldn?t that be a peach, she thought.

She slipped out the back door and cursed herself for not buying something better than a dirk over the past few years. The blade looked rusted in have a dozen spots, and just her luck it would snap in half when she went to strike. Astrid pushed those thoughts from her head. The grass beneath her bare feet felt cold and moist.

She dropped down into a crouch the old feeling of stealth slipping between her skin. The scenery dulled in colors for a moment and then cleared. She slowed her speed coming around the side of the house, hand slung behind her back. Poking her head around the corner into their front lawn she saw the tall elf standing up right looking at the house. His neck looked swelled where her hand had landed last night.

?You don?t have to kill him.? Aramin said.

Astrid glanced out the corner of her eye and stopped in her tracks. Aramin stood off to the side dressed in a simple black tunic and pants, his usually light blue skin a dusty gray color now. Eyes that should have glowed were dull and worn. Bits of flesh hung from his torn left ear. A rotted gash went down his left arm before disappearing into the cuff of his shirt.

I?m not seeing this, she thought.

Aramin sat down, Astrid almost jumped as his bones popped. ?Oh, I?m here all right. Think of me as the ghost of Elune?s past.? He gave her a crooked wink.

A shriek started to form in Astrid?s throat. She touched her mouth. ?You?re not real.?

?Yeah, well, you know it?s bad when you start talking back to your hallucinations.? Aramin said. ?That?s hardly the point though.? He stuffed a finger into his mouth and started to gnaw at the long hard nail there.

Your fingernails grow when you?re dead, she thought hysterically. Just like your hair.

?Don?t kill him, he?s not here to hurt you.? Aramin said. He planted both dead arms behind him and leaned back. Black tracery of veins stuck out just underneath his paper-thin skin. A grin spread across his face, and that was somehow worse than hearing him speak, or seeing him at all. Just a dead emotionless grin that went so far in each direction Astrid thought the skin at the corners of his mouth would tear open leaving his jaw hanging on his chest.

And then she screamed.

She dropped against the side of the house her eyes ramming shut.

Calm down, she thought, just calm down. You?re a drunk, drunks see things sometimes. It?s part of alcohol withdrawal.

That thought didn?t make her feel any better. Instead it only reinforced the fact of what she was doing. Was she really trying to sneak around the corner to kill some young man that didn?t know what he was talking about?

The phantom voice of Aramin came back to her, distant and withdrawn, ?Or are you just trying to make a reason to leave??

A pair of hands clamped on her arms. Astrid screamed again. It was Aramin, come back to take her with him this time. No one covered his body on the battlefield, they just left it lying there for the birds, and he was mad, he was ready to-

?Mrs. Erinyes?? A voice said.

Astrid opened her eyes. The elf warrior was holding her arms, a confused expression on his face. He drew away crossing his arms over his breastplate.

Just for the record, the weather today is slightly sarcastic with a good chance of rain, she thought in a fragmented fashion.

?Pardimor?? She whispered. Her eyes darted around him to where Aramin had been. Green open grass looked back at her, no sign of anyone sitting anywhere. Just her, alone on the side of the house having one of the worst hallucinations in her life.

You?re getting the Lush Disease, she thought. That?s all. Horrible, but you?re not seeing dead people. Isn?t that a little more comforting?

It wasn?t.

The Elf nodded. ?From last night.? His voice sounded rough and scratchy like he?d gone through a dozen orcish cigars after she left.

I did that, she thought, probably damaged his vocal chords.

?What do you want?? Astrid asked. ?I thought I was overwhelmingly clear last night when I-?

Before she could continue Pardimor dropped to a knee and threw his hands up. ?Train me!? He shouted.

A dwarven sentry passed by raising an eyebrow.

Not now, she thought, really not now. I just saw my dead trail mate talking to me like he never died and now you want me to do what?

?Please!? Pardimor shouted.

Astrid touched his shoulder armor. ?Stop it, get up.? She whispered.

?PLEASE TRAIN ME!? Pardimor shouted. ?You?ve defeated the mighty PARDIMOR, I cannot let myself be disgraced-?

?Elune on a cracker you warriors are nut jobs.? Astrid said. She kicked his knee. ?Get up and get inside before my neighbors start to think we?re having some kind of affair.?

?Huh?? The elf looked up at her confused.

?A bright one aren?t you?? Astrid scowled. She grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him to his feet. ?Back of the house, go.? She kicked after him. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced back over towards the grass where Aramin had been. Nothing. A mingled sigh of relief and fear left her lungs.

?Where am I going?? Pardimor asked.

?How have you survived this long?? Astrid asked.


-4-


An iron kettle sat atop wooden boards on the countertop of the kitchen. Astrid took two of the ceramic cups from their places and set them off to the side. From one of the drawers she pulled out a thin linen cloth and a small leather pouch. She set the cloth over both of the cups, making a little divot at the mouths. From the leather pouch she pulled out a few spoonfuls of herbs and dropped them into the divot.

?What are you doing here?? She asked.

?I want you to train me.? Pardimor said. He sat at one of the chairs around the kitchen table, his bulky frame huddle on the small thing.

?You?re a real go getter. I thought that cheap shot last night would have given you a clear enough answer.? Taking the kettle from the wooden boards she poured water into both cups, the herbs straining through the linen cloth. The smell of mixed plants drifted up to her nose.

?So you?ll train me?? Pardimor asked.

Astrid shook her head. ?No.?

?Why not??

?I don?t fight anymore. Haven?t been in a battle in years.?

?Why not?? Pardimor looked confused. ?The Alliance needs people like you!?

?LILLIAM!? Astrid shouted. She set the kettle down and rolled the linen cloth into a ball. The two cups were full of a murky greenish colored tea. She brought both glasses over and set one next to Pardimor. From the bedroom she heard a scampering of feet.

Lilliam burst into the room and then jumped on her Mother?s lap. She pointed at Pardimor. ?That?s him, that?s the biggun?s.?

?What?s a biggun?? Pardimor asked. He poked at the teacup in a curious fashion.

?That?s what my daughter calls adults.? Astrid said. She sipped at her tea and then handed the cup to Lilliam. ?Drink up, sweetness.?

Lilliam kicked her feet out like a little girl sitting on the edge of a cliff waving her feet at the wind that would never let her fly through it. ?Strong.? She whispered.

Astrid kissed the top of Lilliam?s head.

The front door cracked open and Terris walked through. One large leather sack rested on his left shoulder. ?They were out of strider meat-? He stopped, seeing the little congregation at the table. A mixed expression of confusion and curiosity passed over his face in a matter of a second.

?I see we have company.? Terris said.

?Mmmmm-hmmmmmm.? Lilliam hummed. ?He?s the biggun Mama dropped last night.?

?Well she didn?t-? Pardimor?s face cracked like someone had taken a hammer to a pane of glass. ?I-uh-had a lot to drink and you know-?

?Mama dropped him, Mama dropped him-?

Astrid poked Lilliam in the side. ?Hush it, missy or no candy tonight.?

Lilliam turned, her long ears almost poking Astrid in the eye. A frank expression of anger slated on her face. ?That?s M-E-A-N.?

?You can spell,? Terris said ?Thank Elune, for a few years there we thought you were going to end up being illiterate and addicted to strider meat.?

Lilliam?s brow furrowed. ?I don?t get it.?

Astrid let out a silent laugh and hugged her daughter. ?It?s all right baby.? She kissed the tip of the girl?s ear.

Terris went to the countertop and opened the leather sack. ?So I hear you got into quite the scuffle with my wife last night.?

Pardimor took a sip of his tea and grimaced. ?The MIGHTY Pardimor was only defeated because of the booze.?

Terris glanced at Astrid. ?I see.? He said. ?My apologies if she did the neck thing. She has a tendency to get agitated with liars.?

?I?? Pardimor?s cheeks flushed. He decided to can it by stuffing the teacup in his mouth and drinking heavily, a most prudent decision Astrid thought.

?Can I go to the docks?? Lilliam asked. She got down off her Astrid?s lap leaving the teacup on the table half full. ?I want to see Roland.?

?If it?s all right with your father.? Astrid said.

Terris pulled a large cloth wrapped bit of meat from the leather bag and set it on the countertop. ?Only if you can spell his name.? He said. He turned, hands laced together behind his head. ?How does that sound, Miss M-E-A-N??

Astrid smiled.

Lilliam frowned. ?Row-land.? She said. Her brow worked together in that odd cute fashion she used when something struck her particularly interesting. ?Row like a boat.? She muttered. Her sandals clicked together like she was trying to tap dance. ?Land like the ground.?

The little girl looked up at her father. ?R?O?? She frowned again. ?W??

?EHHH!? Terris let out the buzzer noise and then reached down tickling Lilliam under the arms. ?WRONG!? An exaggerated laugh filled the room as he swept her up in his arms. ?And now I must eat my pretty!?

?No!? Lilliam squealed.

Terris set her down, a smile on both of their faces. A wash of jealously ran through Astrid.

She?s her Father?s little girl, she thought, I?m always going to be second.

?You can go.? Terris said. ?But stay close to Roland, and remember what we told you.?

Lilliam rolled her eyes, a habit she?d picked up from the human children over the last year. One that Astrid didn?t care for much. ?Don?t ever repeat what the sailors say.?

?And why?s that?? Terris asked.

?Because sailors talk dirtier than drunken Orc?s.? Lilliam said.

?Good.? He grinned and for one horrific moment Aramin?s dead grin flashed in Astrid?s mind. A humorless thing, cold and promising death brought with fire. She shook her head cleaning the image out. Washing the walls of her skull with something more pleasant.

Lilliam turned and sprinted out the front door. Terris shook his head. ?She?s going to give me a heart attack one day.?

Pardimor who?d gone to just holding the empty cup set it on the table. ?She?s cute.? He said.

?Thank you.? Astrid said.

Terris took a seat at the table. ?So what do we owe the pleasure??

?I want your wife to train me.? Pardimor said.

?What?? Terris?s face dropped. His eyes turned hard and serious. ?No.?

?That?s what I told him.? Astrid said. ?Besides I?m a rogue not a warrior.?

Toma came into the kitchen from where ever he?d been wandering all morning. A gruff grin spread across his jaws. He dropped down beside her feet.

?I thought you?d be a hunter with that pet.? Pardimor said.

?He?s not really a pet.? Astrid said. ?He?s a Druid. A warlock cursed him during one of the battles at Warsong. Still never found a way to turn him back into an elf.?

?Can he understand us?? Pardimor asked.

Toma lifted his head and barked.

?I?d take that as a yes.? Astrid said. She ruffled the ghostpaw?s head. A phantom whisper of Warsong ran through her head for the millionth time. All the bodies she?d seen laid out on that stretch of land, probably more than any other place in Azeroth.

It?s a bed of bones, a voice whispered in her head, a place where the forgotten lay, never forget that.

?Hon??

Astrid shook herself back to the reality. ?Huh??

?You zoned off for a minute there.?

She brushed the thought away and turned back to the point at hand. ?You?ve never actually been in battle have you?? She asked.

Pardimor looked at her. ?No?not really.?

?Good for you.? She said. ?My husband hasn?t either.?

?I was an objector.?

?To what?? Pardimor asked.

Terris touched his neck. ?To getting my head lopped off by an Orc hopped up on goofballs and Kingsblood.?

?Where were you during the Natural Defenses War?? Pardimor asked.

Astrid laughed. ?He was in Shadowglen making elixirs.?

?Hey, even the war effort needs supplies.?

?That it does.? Pardimor said gravely.

Astrid and Terris looked at each other and laughed. ?You?re really hung up on this honor thing aren?t you??

?What do you mean?? Pardimor?s face curdled.

?That gung-ho attitude of yours will probably fade after you see your raid team slaughtered once or twice.? Astrid said. Her face went blank. ?After that it?s smooth sailing, you don?t feel a thing, you just start drinking, or chewing the Orc grass, and then the dreams start.? She stared out through the window towards the front lawn.

?Let me tell you a little story about Warsong?? She said. ?Maybe you?ll change your mind.? Taking a breath she opened the steel vault door to the memories she chose to lock away. ?Once upon a time?.?

To Be Continued?

END OF SECOND MOVEMENT

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
Third Movement: Flashback
By: Fallonquinn

Authors Notes: The following is a flashback scene that has a temporary change in style and tense for a little literary effect. In an effort to avoid some of those pesky formatting errors that have occurred during my last post I have made a few changes in an attempt to fix them. Any suggestions concerning getting past those bumps would be appreciated.
Such as apostrophes and quotation marks turning into question marks. In an effort to rid that from the final post I've removed the apostrophes.

-1-

(Once upon a time?)

Astrid sits in the flag room of the alliance watching the gates, her eyes tiny beads of concentration. All around her she hears the same muttered mantras of the other combatants. The same broken prayers that everyone says to themselves before the gates rise and the battle begins.

A small gnome to her side sways back and forth on his heels chanting: May Horde arrows miss the body of Avendale Leramue. May the Horde arrows miss the body of Avendale Leramue.

Off to the left side where the tunnel run begins a human warrior bounces on his feet, an elixir of defense shakes in his hands.

Rituals. They all had rituals. Astrid knows this, is aware that even hers must look strange and foreign to anyone else.

Beside her: May the Horde arrows miss the body of Avendale Leramue.

She tries to block out the chant as best she can. Her eyes dilate a few knocks as she stares at the gates. Any second now, any second now and they would pull up.

A night elf standing at the gate reaches up towards the sky casting something on themselves. Someone near by mutters prayers to whatever Gods are listening. Astrid starts to think no one upstairs is listening, not at The Gulch. She stares at her hands, the worn scarred palms that have seen far more bandages than any field maids have.

She thinks: View this as the hush before the storm.

Looking around the room she wonders how many people will be left after the battle is over. Win or loss most wont be going home today. How may Mothers and Fathers will wake up feeling a strange sense of foreboding or vice versa? Her parents were long dead. Her Father fell victim to the Wasting Disease when she was a child and her Mother passed not long after like clockwork.

Her palms flex into fists and then unclench. This is her ritual; her rite of passage. No chants today. Chants only hawked up the nerves she found. At least for her. The stink of sweat and fear hovers in the room. Behind her two elves have set themselves up around the flag and dropped into a stealth crouch.

Beside her: May the Horde arrows miss the body of Avendale Leramue. May the Horde arrows miss the body of Avendale Leramue.

She considers talking to the little gnome. Reassuring him everything will be fine, but that would be a lie. For all she knows none of them will be going home after this.

Why did we sign up for this? What the hell were we thinking?

The gates pull open. A group sign of apprehension or rage floods through the room. Astrid is moving before her feet are aware of it. She passes the rise to the right that leads up to the overlook of the flag room and straight out through the side gate towards the graveyard.

Bodies will fill you today.

Sweat pours out along her spine wetting her shirt. The leather armor sticks to her back. A harsh breeze bats her in the face as she jumps off the drop and lands. Something pops in her feet, something that doesnt matter but still hurts. Two warriors pass by her. Each of them had the same cold gaze in their eyes. The battle calm has hit most of them or paralyzed the rest. Astrid feels something but lets it go.

She crests a rise and fumbles down the slope. The horde base flares up ahead of her. Stacks of smoke and reeking fire reach towards the clouds.

Ill remember that smell forever, she thinks. Unaware that years later she will remember it. In her dreams mostly but otherwise it will haunt her during her waking hours.

She goes into stealth without an idea of when or how it happened. The battle cold does that. Time takes on a strange liquid state that never seems to fade until hours after the battle is over. She runs down the field in stealth one second and then the next a sapped warlock of the undead variety is huddled on the ground.

Give me calm. Give me serenity. Give me a tragic disaster.

The warlock lies somewhere behind her. Astrid sprints towards the horde entrance. Their stronghold is constructed almost the same as their own. Up the tunnel run an undead warrior collides into her. Blades pull loose. Astrid swirls around a purple hue washes over her blades. She performs the trained moves that all are taught.

Sinister strike, eviscerate, sinister strike, hemorrhage.

She ticks of the order of attack in her head. A fresh glob of blood splatters against her chest. Something hot cuts through the bracer on her wrist. The undead warrior pulls back and then rushes forward. His blade comes down. She sees this in the same slowed motion of everything else. Her daggers dart out and find a critical spot. The tip of her dagger slips into the neck of the solider. A flick of the wrist and nothing is there anymore. Just a vomiting waterfall of blood as the warrior?s head falls backwards with no support to hold it up.

Am I doing this? Am I really?

A scream leaves her but it sounds small compared to the sounds behind her. Lightening flares from the sky striking the little gnome who chanted so hard.

Guess you should have prayed for lightening to miss your body.

Dark humor blooms in her chest like a lethal poisons you cant stop eating. She rushes up the tunnel leaving the flopping head of the undead behind her. The image sears into her eyes. Taking up space in her memory banks for later nightmares. A thick burning sensation fills her side. Hot wet liquid pours down over the gash there.

Another scar. Another brand. Another medal of honor.

To her right the tunnel opens to a walkway that leads up to the roof. She passes it heading for the flag. A Tauren hunter sprints for her. Arrows fly. A solitary one lodges itself into her shoulder armor. She feels the tip dig into the soft flesh of her deltoid but only superficially. At combat range she drops to crouch. Her daggers fly out in unison. The Taurens stomach yawns open spilling soft gray colored sausage onto the ground at its feet. A look of pure shock paints over its face. The Tauren is still moving though.

Youre dying; let it go, she thinks.

The Tauren drops to a knee and then a dagger flies out from his side. Astrid stumbles backwards. Her left arm takes a sharp blow just above the elbow and then it goes dead. The nerves below her elbow register nothing but dull fire. Red pours out from the laceration. Her right hand flies out by reflex alone and buries the dagger to the hilt in the Taurens eye. The other rolls in its socket trying to register what just happened. Astrid takes her remaining dagger and runs past him. The flag room is empty. Black dots dance in front of her eyes like dark butterflies.

If I were drunk this would be pleasant.

Near the back of the room planted in a small alcove is a red banner. Astrid clears the distance. A thick trail of blood follows behind her. This is where it happens. This is where someone saps her and then she dies. This is the part of everyone humanoids life they have nightmares about before The Gulch begins. She grabs the flag. A trumpet rings out from somewhere. The Horde would be coming now. Down the ramp her foot snags on something. In dawning horror she realizes a swatch of gray intestine from the
Taurens stomach has wrapped around her ankle.

Hes still alive?

A panicked thought rushes across her mind that the dead will not die here. The cemeteries will just puke the bodies out from the ground. A shriek leaves her followed by a cough of vomit that splatters against her boots. Her dagger arm dips shredding the tissue and untangling her.

Fifteen seconds of sprint, thats all I can afford in my condition, she thinks. Have to save it till I get to the gates or I wont make it.

Up ahead an elf hunter appears.

"RUN!" He screams.

Astrid takes the rest of the tunnel in a rush the coppery stink of blood and vomit covering her. The banner still in the crook of her right arm she hits the gate and starts to sprint. An explosion of musket fire erupts to her right. Something hot whirls past her face and then a cold wet feeling spills over her right eye just before it goes dark. Her dead left arm flinches. Somewhere behind her the elf hunter fires, the whistle of arrows comes from her right followed by the low guttural growl of some animal. Her sprint runs dry a quarter of the way to the Silverwing Hold. Mobs of Horde block the way. Through them a path cuts open. Two warriors and a Druid pry a hole. Astrid forces a body that doesnt want to work anymore towards the hole.

This is almost like Hitball, she thinks. Only we all die.

A grin that looks hideously insane spreads across her features. She bursts through the hole in the Horde defensive line. An arrow grazes her left arm but it?s dead anyway, no use worrying about that one. The cobblestone pathway to the tunnel of the Hold echoes beneath her feet and then turns into damp dirt wetted by blood. A small mage with a giant black shadowy figure beside her rushes behind Astrid providing cover. Screams ring out behind her like they always will in her dreams.

Astrids one eye darts from left to right as she reaches the marble floor of the flag room. The blue alliance Flag waves in its normal spot. Astrid lets out a triumphant scream and races to it. The moment she makes contact blue light explodes through the Silverwing Stronghold. A nauseating feeling of being turned inside out goes over her body. Things go dark and then the stench of sulfur and smelting fills her nostrils. Her one good eye opens and stares at the ceiling of the Ironforge Military Ward.

"Sweet, Elune." Someone shouts. The voice sounds distant and muffled, like she?s hearing it through cotton.

"MEDIC!" Someone cries.

"Shes banged up bad. Elune, look at that arm."

"Out of the way Im a priest. Give her some room."

"Someone find a physician."

"Did we win?" Astrid asks. Her one good eye lolls in the socket. Blackness floats at the edge.

"Yeah, we won." Someone says in a thick dwarven accent. "By the Gods we won."


-2-


Astrid pushed herself away from the table and started another cup of tea. Silence filled the small kitchen. The sound of the ocean from outside carried itself into the room. Terris wouldnt say a thing. He usually never did. Hed only heard her speak of the Gulch once before, and that had been enough for him, back when she was pregnant with Lilliam and the nightmares were at their worst.

She grabbed the kettle from the countertop, noted how cold it felt and grimaced. She poured the cup anyways.

"How long ago was that?" Pardimor asked.

"I dont remember exactly." Astrid said. She sipped the cold tea. "Ten years maybe. Was one of the last battles I was in." Her thin frame slipped back to the seat at the table. "Thats what its like every time. Your mind goes to autopilot almost. The gnomes call it Battle Lust, or some nonsense like that."

Pardimors face looked a shade paler. Terris was staring at her arm, the intricate weave of scars that lined her flesh from head to toe. Her back was the worst. When they made love she hated the feel of his soft hands running over the thick twist of flesh from whatever sword, arrow, or musket round had formed it. She lowered her head and stared down at the palms of her hands. They flexed and opened just like old times.

"We lost seven that raid." Astrid said. Was that right? She thought so. After so many battles the numbers stopped having meaning. They were just tallies on the board of the dead that would follow behind her everywhere she went, on a road that only she could see. Sometimes they spoke to her in dreams, and sometimes like an hour ago theyd show up outside your side lawn rotted and wasted looking to rehash old friendships.

She shivered.

"Pardimor, itd be best if you left for a bit." Terris said.

The tall elf for once seemed to sense something and acted on it. He got up from the table and left the house. Toma whined at Astrids feet. She kissed the ghostpaws nose. Terris came up beside her and wrapped his powerful arms over her shoulders.

"You all right?"

"Yeah. I-" She stopped herself. For a second she almost let it sleep that shed seen Aramin-correction, hallucinated-Aramin this morning.

"You what?"

"Nothing."

Terris turned her head and pressed his lips against hers. She welcomed the sensation and touched the back of his hair.

"I love you." He said.

"I know?" Astrid peered off towards the harbor, her mind distracted and forlorn.


-3-


Lilliam ran down the length of the dock looking for Roland, one of the Dwarven sentries. If shed realized the main reason she liked him was because he was an adult that was only a few inches taller than her she might have reassessed the situation, but being as it was she loved the old croon. She spotted him on the dock, a fishing pole in hand, his bauble out the water floating along with the waves.

"ROLAND!" She cried out.

The dwarf grunted something and then turned. "Lilliam, me girl." He rolled the line of the pole in. "What are you doing about?"

"Looking for you." She stood next to him, hands planted on her hips. "What else?"

"Thought you might be looking for another old man to bug." He said. A thick smile crossed his bearded face.

Lilliam dropped down beside him, her legs poking over the edge of the dock. "Where are the fish."

"No fish today, they heard you coming and scattered, aye, they did. Sharp as tacks they be." Roland said.

Lilliam wrinkled her brow. She only really half understood what Roland said most of the time, and the odd feeling that it was at her expense came frequently but Lilliam couldnt make out some of the emotions she felt, didn?t have the words too.

"Do fish have ears?" Lilliam asked.

"Aye. Ears in their beards." Roland said. He hugged the girl. "Nay, no ears. Just a saying we use. Plus I fish for poo. Better luck buying some dynamite and tossing it in there."

"Dynamite, boom." Lilliam said.

"Aye, boom." Roland echoed.

"Matches in the gas tank, BOOM! BOOM!" Lilliam giggled.

"Girl youve got a streak o your Mother in ya all right." Roland said.

Streak? Like a color? Lilliam wondered.

"Where is ya Mother?"

"Talking to the biggun." Lilliam said. "He talks funny. He calls himself MIGHTY."

Roland laughed, cupping the large belly that hung over his belt. "Aye, I know of who you speak."

"You talk funny too." Lilliam said. "Of who you speak. I like that."

"Well youre a lucky, lass." Roland said. "You get to grow up around some many others around these parts, Humans, Dwarves, Gnomes."

"My Mama was born in Shadowglen."

"Aye, I guessed as much. Most Night Elves are."

"Whats it like there."

"Little dark for me taste, littleun."

Lilliam scrunched her nose together. "I want to go one of those boats one day and see it."

"Aye Im sure you will." Roland got up, fishing pole strapped to his back. "Off with ya. I got work to do."

"Awwww!" Lilliam whined. She rubbed her eyes. "What am I suppose to do?"

"Gods, girly, I dont know. Find a playmate." Roland said. He ruffled her hair and then walked off towards the armor. Lilliam watched him for a bit before turning her gaze back out towards the sea. She knew somewhere across from there was another continent, a whole other world that she knew nothing about. IT scared her but at the same time, something her Mother would know about all too well, a curiosity bubbled inside her.

Im going there, someday, she thought.

END OF MOVEMENT THREE

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
Fourth Movement: Burn This City
By: Fallonquinn


Authors Notes: Quick little tid bit. Not much time this week.

Night came to the harbor in a rush. Astrid watched the sunset from the small L-shaped lawn in the back that housed the fire pit they used to cook dinner and boil any water that hinted at being unclean. Three small wooden chairs were set up, one?s that Terris himself had crafted last summer when he?d gone through his carpentry phase. Sometimes at dusk she?d crawl up the ladder they kept pinned to the house and watch from the rooftop. Tonight the energy to climb up it seemed drained away. Thoughts of the story she told still flickered in her head.

Lilliam had come home a few hours ago and gone straight to bed. Astrid envied the way she wanted her Father to tuck her in while only giving Astrid a precursory kiss goodnight.

It?s always him, she thought. Daddy?s girl all the way.

Why that bothered her she didn?t know, but it did.

?Because you?re just a jealous drunk.? A voice said.

Astrid turned her head slowly to the left. Aramin sat on the chair next to hers. The decay on his face seemed to have spread since this morning. A revolted jump coursed through her. Old wounds made themselves known. The scar on her face burned in sharp unison.

?You?re not real.? She said.

?Then why are you talking to me?? Aramin asked. ?Would you rather talk to him?? He pointed one rotted finger, the nail an inch long towards the third chair. Spread out on it was the creature from her dream, the sloth-ghostpaw creation that shouldn?t exist.

Cold sweat broke out over her brow. Her angular lashes kept most of it away but a few renegade drops spilled into her eye.

I?ve gone and lost my marbles, she thought.

(-You didn?t lose anything, don?t be a troll.-)

She stared at the creature. ?Artie??

(-You got it.-)

?Just leave me out of the telepathy, real nice.? Aramin said.

Astrid bit her lower lip. Blood pooled into her mouth leaving a coppery taste on her tongue. Her eyes felt like two smouldering coals that?d been shoved into their sockets.

I need a drink, she thought.

?You don?t need a drink.? Artie said. One giant clawed hand, the knuckles callused and hardened. ?You should stop drinking. You might see less of us if you did.?

?Believe me I?d love to never see you again.? Astrid said. When the words left her mouth she felt the hysterics just below the surface of her face. In a second she?d simply crack and drift off to wherever the crazies went. Maybe to some far off dreamland where people flew in the sky.

I swim in the sand and make castles in the sea, she thought madly.

?You should really think about calming down.? Artie said. A cocktail appeared in his giant clawed hand. One long pink tongue snaked out from his monstrous jaws to touch the greenish liquid inside. ?Apple-tini?s, gotta love them.?

Astrid spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. The grass ate at it like starved lions. Her mind spun out in a hundred different directions. Did the Lush Disease cause this many hallucinations? She didn?t think so. Firstmate Fitz could tell her but she wouldn?t dare ask him, he could keep his mouth shut about as well as a whore could keep her legs closed.

?You?re all just hallucinations.? Astrid whispered. She prayed for Terris to walk out of the house now. Maybe that would banish them away. She didn?t dare yell for him that might start alarm.

?Frank Sinatra would disagree but that?s hardly the point.? Aramin said.

Who the hell is Frank Sin-ought-truh?

?Doesn?t matter who he is.? Artie said. The creature?s lips pulled back into a grin exposing his dagger teeth. ?What?s important is that you listen to us.?

?Listen to what? My imagination?? Astrid laughed. Her lip went numb, but that coppery taste of blood still flooded her mouth. The back of her throat felt slick with it. Crickets began to chirp. Astrid marked them.

Aramin turned toward her. One side of his face was rotted to the bone. ?I can?t stay out here too long.? He pulled at the loose flesh there. ?You see what happens.?

?I?m sorry I didn?t cover your body.? Astrid whispered.

The Elf?s face changed. ?Astrid?this has nothing to do with that.?

?You should be more concerned with what?s coming.? Artie said. He drained the rest of his drink and then the cup vanished from his hand. ?Think of us as gatekeepers, messengers of sorts.?

?What?s coming?? Astrid asked. Her hands started to flex and open.

Artie pointed one finger up along the horizon line. The claw extended from it had to be at least four inches long. Astrid followed his finger to where the sun was half set along the sea. ?What am I looking for??

?Look harder.? Aramin said. Astrid didn?t look at him, didn?t want to.

She narrowed her eyes. There was something. It shimmered against the horizon where the last red fingers of the sun fought their daily battle against the engulfing velvet tarp that spread over the sky.

?What do they look like?? Artie asked.

?Ships.?

?No.? Artie said.

?Well, ****, I don?t know.?

Aramin?s hand shot out and slapped her, hard. Astrid almost tumbled from the seat. Her lip started to bleed again. Another barrage of thoughts whaled against her.

This can?t be happening, hallucinations can?t hurt you.

?YOU said we were hallucinations.? Artie said. ?Look again. Actually TRY this time.?

The shakes hit her hard. She lifted her hand and saw the tremor that ran through her. Another mouthful of blood hit the lawn. Her stomach rolled in her belly. Another few minutes and she?d puke. Just like War-

?Stop with that crap.? Artie said. The creature had another drink in its hand. A small cylindrical object made out of some metal Astrid had never seen. Print on the can was a single word that shifted in Astrid?s mind. Her eyes could see it but her brain refused to convert it into text she could decipher. The closet she came was seeing: BUUDWHYZER.

?Look, and see.? Aramin said. His face was a peeled mess of flesh. His eyes were rotten eggs that lolled in their hollows like rats nesting. The moment she thought of that a single worm ran from the hole in his check to the crack by the crease of his mouth. Astrid forced her stomach to hold its contents.

She turned her gaze to toward the skyline again. This time she did see. The clouds were there, that much she noticed, but there was a bulk of them, like a thunderhead coming to a point. She frowned.

I can hear something, she thought.

And she could. Not with any normal hearing, but something distant and muted. Something she could only hear if she tuned everything else out and listened deep, like people did just before sleep when they singled out a solitary sound. A low hum throttled in her ears, still far, far away.

?Ah, so the prodigal child lives up to her name.? Artie shrieked laughter. Rough meat was in his hand now.

They?ll send me to an internment camp if I tell anyone about this, Astrid though. They?ll think I?m crazy.

-She drinks too much; everyone knew it would happen eventually-

-I feel sorry for their little girl, growing up with her Mother been a drunken loon-

-The poor Father seems to be headed that way to. Must run in the family. No wonder the little one is so fuc-

Another hard slap connected with her face. Astrid?s vision black out for a second and then she saw the grass, moist and green. Laid out on the ground she rolled over, dots fading in and out through her vision.

?You don?t have time to worry about what people will say.? Aramin said. ?It doesn?t matter. It never did, and it never does. People always talk.?

?What YOU need to remember is that no one remembers the lone hero. The person that sent up the first alert, they get lost somewhere in the myth and legend a hundred years after. The question you have to ask yourself is: Do you really care if anyone knows who you are?? Artie said. The creature dropped down onto its front paws, knuckles buried in the grass. It turned towards her, long jaws turning into a horrified grin. ?Watch the sky, you know what they are even if you don?t want to believe it.?

Astrid glanced over at Aramin but he was gone. Artie had disappeared to. She sat in the back lone peering out towards the sea listening to the familiar yet alien humming. Thirty minutes passed in a haze.

Hallucinations, she thought, that?s all.

Her swollen face and bloodied lip spoke otherwise.


End Fourth Movement

[Grubblies]

Great work, keep going :).

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
Fifth Movement: Cataloguing An Active Threat
By: Fallon Quinn

Authors Notes: I've taken many liberties with Menethil Harbor, blame the mistakes on me, not the story.

1

The next three days passed in a blur of images to her. She remembered little when the ships came but what she did remember was clear enough. The preparations she’d gone through, the strange things she’d said. By the fourth day everything came true though. She looked back to the first day in passive astonishment.

DAY ONE

Astrid walked down the path towards the tavern were two caravans were set up selling arms to the people off the boats. She was drunk, another bad sign, she knew, but she had to know. Something buried deep inside her, maybe from the battlefields or maybe something as simple as maternal instinct made her go. A piece of parchment and graphite in hand; a dull buzz flourished behind her eyes.

She stopped around the corner from the wagons and took another nip from the flask she kept in her tunic. A dull buzz filed at the back of her eyes, the flush in her ashen gray cheeks went a shade brighter.

Nice and easy, that's the way to go.

From off in the distance where the thunderhead had formed she could still hear the low thrum of machinery, something so familiar but foreign she couldn't place it. What had Aramin said? Or was it the other? The Anteater, the creature that drank strange beverages in one thick clawed hand, she didn't know.

You should know that sound. By the gods, you should.

Why? She ground her teeth together and found a bitter whiskey taste floating in the back of her throat. For a moment she thought she was going to vomit. Force of will kept it down. How that was possible she didn't know. Maybe she was as bad as Fitz down at the pub...the thought had crossed her mind on more than few occasions. She probably was, the only difference being she could hide it, he couldn't.

Who are you fooling?

Reality swam back to her and she rounded the corner to the wagons. The scent of drying arrow wood and sap filled her nostrils. She tried not to stumble and managed the act fairly well, after a few swaying steps she stopped at the nearest wagon and sat down. A woman dressed in a slitted black dress with a tattered red tabard over her shoulders. Astrid had never seen her before but she brushed that aside.

After a few minutes the woman spotted her and came over.

"Whatcha need?"

Astrid looked up, glassy eyed. "What kind of bows have you got, the best."

The woman raised one pink eyebrow.

Pink isn't your color honey, stop dying your bangs, Astrid thought.

"Laminated Recurve Bow, I think."

"Think or know?"

"Know." The woman said. She planted her hands on a set of childbearing hips that would have made any man drool. Astrid felt her own narrow ones grow angry. "How many?"

"How many are you buying?"

"None." Astrid said. She rubbed at her brow and then rejected the idea of pulling out her flask. People might start to talk. Something about drinking and asking about weapons made people nervous, and they should be. The low hum that gnawed at her brain tried to connect again but she couldn't place the noise. Thunder rippled in the distance where the storm cloud hung. Astrid glanced over at it, suspicious. The cloud was coming closer, she could see that, but there was something else off with it. Why hadn't the humidity rose? Why hadn't there been a hint of rain in the last few days since it arrived?

"If you're not buying your wasting my time." The woman said.

"Where's Kora...she's the owner of this branch isn't she?" Astrid asked.

"Well...yeah...but she's off in-" The woman paused, her face drawing a blank. "Off in Ironforge I think restocking."

How the hell did you get this job?

"Restocking..." Astrid repeated. Her stomach took a nasty turn and vomit chuckled at the back of her throat. "Right...what about armor or daggers?"

"Ma'am...I don't know who you are but if you're not buying I can't help you." The woman said..

"Of course." Astrid said. A dark smile flickered across her face. The woman took a step back, Astrid didn't know why but it was a relief. "Have a good day."

On her parchment she scribbled down Laminated Recurve Bow. Beside that she scribbled: ****ty equipment.

Why's it so crappy, Aramin asked.

Astrid turned and saw the decaying figure by her. Most of his face was gone, the flesh hanging off his cheekbone green and reeking of rotten oranges. He pushed himself from the wall standing on one leg that was a tattering of bone and cloth, the other a darkish gray color that looked sickly. Unconsciously she touch the cut on her lip that had scabbed over.

"Sorry about that." Aramin said. He brought both of his rotten shoulders together in a shrug, the sound of rotten tomatoes being squeezed together coincided with it. "Do what you have to."

"Why can't you just tell me what I'm suppose to do?" Astrid asked.

"Excuse me?" The woman at the wagon took another step back, the familiar expression of distress colored her face. "Ma'am-"

"I know, I know, move along." Astrid said.

"Use your head." Aramin said.

Astrid got to her feet, shoving the parchment and graphite into the pocket of her tunic. She followed the ghost, devil, demon, whatever he was around the corner of the Menethil Keep, back towards her house.

<Why can't you tell me what I'm suppose to do?>

"Because that'd be too easy." Aramin said. His face appeared over his shoulder, a smear of puss oozed out of the corner of his right eye. A black tongue snaked out of his mouth and lapped it up.

Astrid saw it, stopped, and then vomited into the grass. She looked up and saw no one around.

Thank the Gods for small favors, she thought.

Aramin stared at her, one white filmed eye roving wherever it wanted to. "You used to be something great...you used to be a master of your craft." Aramin laughed but it sounded sour and curdled to her ears, like milk that'd turned over and gone bad in your stomach after eating it. "Now look at you." He squatted and a thousand pops wrinkled out from his body. "You're just another drunk."

Thanks for the news flash you piece of ****, Astrid thought. Tell me something I don't know.

"This isn't a game of clue." Aramin said.

What's clue?

"It's a game in another world." Aramin said. He sighed and a gaseous pocket of rancid meat and banana's left him. Astrid caught whiff of it and managed to still her stomach by will again. The steaming pile on the ground was the only vomit she'd give off today.

"Stairway to heaven." Aramin said. He gazed off towards the cobblestone bridge that led out into the wetlands. "That's a song you know...just not here. Two levels up it is and that'd be all you'd need to know what that sound is if you weren't drunk all the time." He sighed and the same horrid odor echoed off of him. "But that's neither here nor there. Think hard..."

"What?" Astrid said. She blinked and Aramin was gone. The cut on her lip ached like he'd slapped her again.

Nothing slapped you, you bit your lip. Dead people can't slap you.

A voice not here own laughed: Are you so sure about that?

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
Fifth Movement
By: Fallon Quinn

2

DAY TWO

Astrid woke up to a hangover she didn't deserve. Her head felt a few sizes too big and the twisting in her gut told her it was going to be a long day. Most of yesterday seemed a blur. Terris had his arms wrapped around her, one hand cupped her breast, the other had slipped under her side to cup her flat stomach. For almost half an hour she stared at blank wall and the door to their bedroom.

-That's a song you know, two levels up-

Two levels up what?

She rolled out of bed and Terris let out a sigh. She watched him, the glimmer of the sun off his purplish skin that looked taunt and tight against his muscles. They'd made love last night, not that she remembered much of it. She'd been too drunk to do anything but let him pump away inside her. After that everything went dark. He'd probably smelled the drink on her breath just like everyone else. A twisted lump of metal lodged itself in her head. She wanted to cry but the buzz didn't let her. The noise was still there, louder now, how anyone else couldn't hear it she didn't know.

From the dresser she took out a crimson tunic and pants and put them on. Her stomach hurt but that was the booze, or should have been. Her two long gray ears twitched for no reason she knew.

The noise rattled again in her ears, like flint against steel, the itch she could never reach. Leaving the bedroom she went to the kitchen and took two spoonfuls of water. It fought in her belly like wild cats gone ferrule. After almost thirty minutes she knew it would be kept down. Her spine felt like someone had shoved a handful of shattered glass down her vertebras. Every movement or turn sliced the nerves and muscle. She sat at the table for half and hour, aware that everyone was sleeping late for some reason, before scrounging through the clothes by the door. She'd left them there when Terris had taken her. His hands sliding the tunic up over her head.

LAMINATED RECURVE BOW

She'd scribbled.

Below that she couldn't make out the rest. Being drunk and writing didn't go well with her. The words looked like odd hieroglyphics that sat upon the summoning stones near Black-fathom Deeps. There was something there though that she should have know.

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

She read those words after rewriting them a hundred times along the empty margin of the parchment. What they meant she didn't know. Outside rain began to pour in buckets. Thunder screamed against the clouds. She tongued the cut on her lip. Nerves flared to life. Her mind cleared beyond the headache and the stomach pains for a moment and she thought she almost saw it. The dim outline of an oval shape and low hanging-

Low hanging what?

A disheartened sigh passed through her down to the marrow in her bones. She leaned back on the wooden kitchen chair and closed her eyes. Beating hammers belted at her forehead. There was something there, she just couldn't pick it out. The hum from the skies. The storm that never seemed to come. The rain that only showed a few days after the thunderhead had formed-

Time stopped for Astrid then. She opened her eyes to the wooden ceiling. Squirrels and rabbits peaked out from the mash of knots in the wood. Why did the storm-cloud hover for so long before actually raining. She ran to the window spilling over a chair in the process. Her eyes felt like molten lava in their sockets. The boiler of her stomach turned into a press machine for liquid tin to process through. She lowered her head over the basin thinking she'd vomit but her eyes went to the window despite it.

The spearhead of clouds lay closer to Menethil. Lightening struck down to the sea, and the seam low thrumming came to her ears again. She heard it, found it, in the deep recess of her mind she connected the sound. Synapses clicked together on faulty wiring degraded by booze and drugs.

Zeppelins, she thought, those are the sound of Zeppelins.

And who uses Zeppelins for transport? Aramin asked in her head.

The Horde.

Panic tried to flutter in her chest. They were on the edge of invasion. The storm cloud was nothing but a smoke screen. They always had storm-clouds coming in to the harbor. Why would this one be any different? Everyone would think it's just another storm on the horizon, the rain today would confirm that, and then when the zeppelin reached it's target bombs and troopers would drop and land.

And then what? Aramin poked, a hint of playful laughter echoing in the hurt caverns of her head.

Then they take over, she thought. My Gods, they'll take the drop on us, secure the harbor and kill any Alliance coming in by boat, it won't take long. If they stop all the ships and outgoing mail there won't be anyone that'll know.

"BINGO!" A voice screamed and then Astrid felt her right leg struck and attached to. She looked down, eyes wide and terrified. Lilliam stared back at her. "Mama?"

Astrid leaned down and ruffled her daughters hair, hand twitching. "Baby, pack some clothes."

"Huh?"

"Pack some clothes." She repeated. "Use that burgundy bag I bought you."

Lilliam smiled ear to ear. "My bag?!?" She giggled, hands falling to her chest. "I can use it?!?"

"Yeah, you can use it now."

"I thought you said it was an emergency bag." Lilliam said. Her gray ears twitched.

"Nah, you're going on vacation, a holiday." Astrid said. Terror screwed itself around in her chest. No vacation, this wasn't anything near that. This was EVACUATION, but Lilliam wouldn't understand that. "You're going on the Hippo!" She cried, trying to sound happy.

You're going away, from all of this.

Lilliam's eyes went wide. "The hippo's..." The girl gulped. "I'm a big girl, I can ride the hyppo's."

"Of course." Astrid said. "Daddy will be packed up soon so hurry!" She made a smile that felt like rusted broken metal on her face. "Hurry, hurry!"

Lilliam ran from the kitchen knocking down the breadboard from the countertop. She stopped and looked back but Astrid nodded her on, the fake smile plastered over her face. "Hurry up." She said.

-You're a curse to the ones you love-

When Lilliam went to her bedroom Astrid ran to the pantry and pulled the floorboards that were loose. One of her fingernails ripped off and she let out a silent scream that boiled in her lungs, consulting with her stomach for vomit instructions. The boards loose she threw them aside and peered inside the dark rectangular space they'd left behind. Reaching in she touched the leather pouch she'd placed their some years ago.

Come on...be what I need you to be.

Blood fell from her left middle finger over the tanned leather bag. She pulled the ties and peered in. CLose to a hundred gold stared back at her. She took a handful and shoved it into her pocket. Cinching the bag shut she replaced the boards for no reason she could think of, conformity fit. The bedroom was her next place of business.

[Virgil]

You win. I'm intrigued.

[fallonquinn]

3

Terris awoke from some kind of awful dream he couldn't quite place. Elves, gnomes, and humans died all around him in a bath of crimson that spilled out into the harbor. He opened his eyes to see Astrid hovering over him. The memories of last night flooded into his mind. She was shouting but all of that came through as a muted roar.

"Terris-"

"Let me sleep."

"NO!"

A hard hand smashed his brow. A muffled scream came from his lips, only muted by the hand that covered his mouth.

She's gone mad, Terris thought, she finally hit the red line.

"What the fu-"

"Shut up." Astrid spit.

"What's-"

"I said shut up." Astrid snarled.

The odor of fouled liquor hit his nose. Not fresh booze, but the stench of left over alcohol that'd already been processed through someone's system. His eyes snapped open, aware that he was naked under the bed-sheet, and that Astrid was straddling him a sack in her hand.

"Ter?"

"What?" Terris whispered. He tried to roll over and realized she'd pinned him at the shoulders with her knees. Nothing sexual in her posture or appearance.

What the hell is going on?

"You've got to go." Astrid said. She dropped the bag on his face twice. The hard clink of metal covered in leather slapped his nose. He recoiled trying to bring the rest of his brain back to life.

"What?"

"Did I stutter, dummy?"

Daylight panned into him. He blinked and saw the raw panic in his wife's face. "What's happening? Are we under attack?"

"No." Astrid said. She rolled off him. His lungs took in a full breath clearing everything up a bit. "Not yet." His wife glared out the bedroom towards the thunderhead in the distance...the distance that seemed so much closer.

"What?"

"Why do you keep saying that?" Astrid spurted. Her eyes darted around the room. "You've got to take Lilliam out of here."

"Easy now." Terris said. He sat up, the sheet dropping off his chiseled chest. "What's going on."

"No time." Astrid said. She dropped the leather bag onto his crouch. "There's almost fifty gold in there."

Where the hell did you get fifty gold, Terris thought. Dear, Gods, you robbed someone you shouldn't have didn't you?

Almost reading his mind Astrid jumped off the bed and glared at him with two eyes he'd never seen before. Something like fire and lava boiled in her pupils. "You have to go now." She said. Her hands shook but she went to the closet. "Never-mind clothes, Lilliam is packing." The boards came loose.

I don't remember those boards being loose, he thought.

From the gap in them she pulled out a stiletto and hostler. She stuffed them on her hip and then pried out more boards taking out a wooden bow and quiver. The arrows looked dusty and old. The bow was cracked in more than a few places. One good shot on it and the thing would probably shatter into fragments to tear into her flesh.

"Astrid-"

"No time." She said again. The bow went to her back. From the dark panel-less depths she took out a blue glowing dagger The blade was an obsidian color with crimson ruins running down the length of its curve. Something dark and harsh slapped him when he saw it. Astrid peered at if for sometime. "I never wanted you to come out." She whispered.

The dagger disappeared into a ruined black scabbard and then she attached it to her hip.

"ASTRID!" Terris yelled. "What the hell is going on?!?"

"Horde." Astrid said. She dug in the hole again. Two dark gray vials came out. "Tomorrow probably."

"Are you drunk?"

"I wish." Astrid said.

You and me both, Terris thought.

Terror had started to seep into his chest. He touched the leather sack on his chest feeling the weight. Inside was enough gold to last him a lifetime. He stared at the reflection for some time hypnotized.

"What's going on?" Terris said.

Astrid glanced over her shoulder still pulling things from the floorboards. "Zeppelins." She said. "The thundercloud is a mage camouflage, they're going to take this city."

Terris sat up in bed, the leather sack falling over his legs spilling gold coins onto his shins. "Hon, you're hallucinating." He'd always feared this would happen. Drunks sometime slipped off the edge into paranoia and delusions. He'd hoped she wouldn't head that way, that she could curb her drinking after Lilliam was born, but now that all seemed a vague hope. He scooped the gold back into the bag.

"Astrid."

She turned from the floorboards, a red glowing sword in hand that curved up towards her hand. "What?"

When he saw it he stopped. The look in her eyes alone was enough to still his tongue. The sharp edge, her twitching ears, he rolled off the bed and slipped into a pair of brown pants. "Where are we suppose to go?"

From the seemingly endless hole in their closet she pulled out a dusty yellowed envelope. "Stormwind for now." She said. "That's all I can think of and it probably won't be safe there for long either."

4

Thirty minutes later Astrid ran through the streets trying to find the dumb overbearing ox she knew would be around. She spotted him near the tavern poking Fitz with one booted foot. The giant elf turned to look at her as she came and raised a hand.

"Hile, Lady Astrid!"

"Cut that crap." Astrid said. She grabbed Pardimor's shoulder and turned him. "We don't have much time."

Fitz let out a grunt from his passed out position in front of the tavern.

"Time for what?"

"For you to start to be useful for once in your miserable life." Astrid said. She'd left all her equipment back at the house. The idea of running through town strapped to the teeth with weapons didn't seem all that enticing. Doing that would get your little fanny in lock up, especially if you were squalling something about an upcoming attack. Her eyes darted towards the thunderhead in the distance. The distance that didn't seem too distant anymore.

Tonight, she thought, it starts tonight.

"Have the striders been here yet?"

Pardimor shook his head. "No, why?"

"Good." She took his hand and started to drag him towards the main keep. "I want you to go in and find someone named Roland, he's a dwarf with the home-guard. Red beard, just ask for him when you get inside."

"Why?"

"Don't ask." Astrid said. She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Just get him out here, I don't care what you have to say to do it, just do it." Narrowing her eyes she said, "This is a mission of the utmost importance that I'd only give to someone I knew could do it."

The Night Elf beamed and slapped his chest. "I can do it. Pardimor-"

"And stooooop that third person ****, it gets so annoying." Astrid said. She pushed him towards the keep and then ran back to the mailbox. The Elf glanced at her again unsure but she shooed him on.

People are going to think I'm nuts, she thought, and then directly following that: Wait...they already do.

A hysterical giggle bubbled between her lips. She held it in and waited. A half hour later a giant forest strider speed into town, a small gnome with goggles and wind-cap on her head sitting in the scoop of the striders neck a pair of rains in hand. Astrid pulled the dusty envelope from her pocket and held it up to the courier.

The gnome glanced down at her. "Postage is thirty copper."

Astrid pulled out a gold coin and set it on her hand. "This is very important. Express delivery, keep the gold after you take the thirty copper out. I need this delivered to Ironforge by days end to a woman there."

The gnome reined the strider and then pulled out a small parchment pad. "Name?" She brushed the pink scarf back around her shoulder.

"Perion." Astrid said. "She's a night elf."

"Where is she?"

"Either at the Auction House or the Forlorn Cavern." Astrid said, hoped. She didn't know if Perion would still be there. In all honesty she never expected to send the letter.

Too late for that now.

"If you can't find her there, leave it at the bank for general pick up." Astrid said. "If you get it done by days end there's another gold waiting here for you."

The gnome glanced at her from behind the goggles suspicious. "Money talks, bull**** walks."

Astrid held up three gold pieces and danced them across the back of her hand, an old trick she'd learned during Rogue training. The gnome watched the pieces.

"By sundown." The courier said. "Roger that."

Ten minutes later with a full pack the strider turned and then darted out of town. Astrid watched it go, dread building in her chest. So much for hoping for a peaceful existence in Menethil.

You knew it would never last...why do you think the dreams came?

She knew why.

[Niderin]

Dam i hope you finish this story. I hate it when people dont finish their stories it annoys me.

[arcamedes]

This is an amazing story I've been reading since you started it. Good job, hope it's finished soon. : -)

[fallonquinn]

AUTHORS NOTES: Sorry for the lack of posts, I sort of figured that no one was reading at all, so it became a waste of time in my mind. The main storyline is just starting actually, I'm not sure how long this will run but there's still a lot floating in my head. So without further notes, thank you for reading, and enjoy.


4

DAYS END

Perion sat at the back of the auction house away from the masses, a jug of bourbon in one hand, a rolled cigarette in the other. The auctioneer shouted something out that she couldn't make. The stench of Ironforge filled her nostrils. The fart smell of steam and acidic odor of boiling metals. She left the auction house headed towards the bank. On the small catwalk over she pitched the jug of bourbon down into the undercarriage of the circular forge. Near the main gate a giant strider reared causing a dwarf and two humans to scatter like ants under its feet.

Perion eyed it with little interest. Her stomach was rumbling again like a someone had let loose a pack of tigers to tear at each other down there. Her ashy blue skin was covered in a thick slab of leather armor that'd been stained black. A large flat top crown hat sat on her head, the brim broken, hanging low over her eyes.

Gnomes shouldn't ride striders, she thought, that's how people get killed.

A giggle escaped her. She was halfway to the bank when something odd happened. The strider ran straight towards the Auction House when it should have been heading towards the mailbox.

"PERION!" The rider shouted.

Heads in the crowd turned. Perion froze. Her mind went in four different directions at once, her left hand dropped to the pommel of a curved dagger that had a faint wispy black glow around its blade.

"PERION APHELION!" The rider shouted again.

More heads turned.

This could be bad, Perion thought.

She was wanted in more than two major cities. Darnassus and Stormwind both had orders to arrest her on sight. She hadn't pissed off Ironforge as of yet to get caught here, but all that could change, people tended to look unkindly at smugglers, Perion knew that all too well.

The rider turned the strider around in a full circle. "Do any of you know Perion, she's a night elf."

Keep walking, Perion told herself.

How she got her feet to move she didn't know but they started again and she stood by the bank, by the mailbox. The rider dismounted and ran towards the auction house. Perion watched the little gnome, there was something cute about the way they waddled. She loved it. It reminded her of children, but that was neither here nor there. She stuffed the crooked smoke into her mouth and took another deep wave of it in. Smoke bit at her lungs. Did someone put a bounty on her head? Just for a smuggler? That sounded almost ridiculous, mercenaries maybe, but a smuggler?

I'm not high enough to reward a profit, Perion thought. Unless that last shipment of elixirs was hot. That's the last time I deal with the fracking dwarves.

Sweat padded her brow. She leaned against the wall. A short human woman came and collected a bit of mail and then scampered off. Sometime later the gnome came from the auction house and headed straight back towards her strider. The walking bird made a few pecking noises. Perion made a B-line to cut her off. She stood some feet away from the strider and waited till the rider had remounted, a feet that was more humorous to watch. It looked like a miniature human scaling a mountain from the vantage point of a giant.

"Why are you looking for Perion?" She asked. The brim of her hat hung low, casting a shadow over her mouth. Only the red coal of the cigarette was visible like a disembodied eye. People moved around, a few letting out cat calls.

The gnome gazed down at her, eyes sharpening. "Who wants to know?"

"Someone you should be afraid of." Perion said. She blew smoke from her nose like a dragon. It flushed out from under the brim of her hat. An old trick, gods knew it felt stupid to do but she found the intimidation factor went a long way in her line of work.

"She has a message."

"From?"

The gnome raised an eyebrow again, the pink scarf contrasting her tanned skin. "A Night Elf in Menethil Harbor, no name."

No...Perion whispered. Can't be.

"Scars?"

"What?"

"Did she have scars?"

The gnomes face worked in a deliberate way like she was playing checkers in her head and losing. The goggles on her head even moved up and down along with her brow. "Yeah..quite a few of them."

Okay, one down, Perion thought.

"Was their a scar across her face. Going over her left eye?" Perion asked.

"Yeah." The gnome nodded.

Perion fished out a few silver pieces from her pocket and then flipped them up to the gnome. "I'll take the message."

The gnome grunted. "You could have just said you were her."

"Who says I am?"

"You Elves are all nut-jobs, you know that?" The gnome reached into her leather sack and tossed her a very old looking piece of mail.

Astrid it's not you is it? Please say it isn't, Perion thought. The last time you did something like this we almost got killed. Not that you were ever worried about your own hide.

The gnome stayed where she was. The strider turned its long neck and tried to nip at her. "Stop it, Ozzy!" The gnome smacked one pudgy hand against the birds beck. It turned away looking sad and exasperated. "I need a return receipt."

Of course you do, Perion thought. Thorough as always, aren't we Astrid? If only you'd had a little more foresight at The Gulch I might not have to have sex in the dark to cover up the scars.

From her pocket Perion pulled out a lead writing instrument and a scrape of paper. Her hand made the tracery marks of an eye inside of a blooming rose and then made a lavish P in Darnassian under the symbol. She handed it to the rider. "There."

The gnome gave it a glance over and then shrugged it off. "You know your friends a real pisser."

"Yeah." Perion said turning away. "I get that a lot."


-5-


The forlorn cavern smelled like minerals and salt water. A small pond near one end of the entrance did that. You could drink the water from it, but more than likely you'd find yourself vomiting an hour later with a hammer pounding at your skull if you did. Perion sat at the edge of it twisting the browned envelope in her hands as she watched out over the placid waters. Almost two hours had passed since she got the letter, night was well on its way outside. Part of her thought about just tossing the letter into the pond and watching it sink, she knew it would. Normal paper might not but this was a dead letter, she was sure of it.

If you open it and do what it asks your as good as dead, Perion thought. Astrid only wants one thing, your help, and be damned if it means that you have to die in the process.

A brief flash of memory came before her. The two of them had been on one of the trails just out of Astranaar headed towards Night Song Woods, Astrid smiling her usual I don't give a damn smile, Perion beside her. They'd both been quite drunk during those days, and from what she'd heard a few years later Astrid was quite the fan of booze. Perion had given most of it up except for the occasional bourbon.

They'd walked down the trail in silence for some time till Astrid finally looked over, a flask of whiskey in hand. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." Perion said. Her body had yet to be dipped in scars back then. That came later, with the fire and the massacre on the Warsong fields.

"If I was ever in a jam could I count on you?"

"Count on me to what?"

Astrid kicked at a patch of dirt, missed, stumbled and then straightened herself, a bright flush of red pushing out from her cheeks. "To help me." she said.

"That depends."

The women turned to her, shocked. "Depends?"

"I don't want to die, Trid." Perion said. They passed an outcrop of woods and skirted it, the gods only knew the ghostpaws loved to hide in those little patches waiting for someone to come along and miscalculate their safety. "You on the other had are part of an elite group my Father used to call the Short Timers."

Astrid burped, cupping her stomach. "What's that suppose to mean."

"It means you have a deathwish." Perion said. "That's why you're so good on the battlefield. You want to die...but you're too afraid to kill yourself, so you throw yourself into a situation where you can get killed and it won't be your fault."

"That's awful dark." Astrid said. The woman's words came out slurred and off register, switching from common to Darnassian half way through.

"You're a dark person." Perion said. "I don't want to sound like I don't care, because I do, but people like you are dangerous people. Sometimes they drag people like me down with you."

The conversation died for sometime after that. The two camped out near the roads edge that night. After that when daylight and sobriety came there was no more take of jam's or deathwishes.

Perion came back to reality, her eyes still pointed out towards the pond. This is what this is, isn't it? She thought. You're in a jam and you need my help. A jam you can't get out of by yourself.

The envelope suddenly felt like an anvil in her hands. She watched not realizing she was doing it as she opened the sealed top. A musky dry odor came out of the envelope. How long ago had this thing been written? Perion pulled the dry parchment out like it was thin glass, afraid it might crumble in her hands. She unfolded it and started to read:

Dear Peir (no, not a dock ha-ha),

I prayed that I'd never have to send this letter out, and if I have that means something very bad has happened or is going to happen. I'm in Menethil harbor, and guess what? I'm married! I know, shocked are we not? On-top of that I'm two months preggers. Seems my groom has quite the appetite. If you never get this that'll be fantastic. If you're reading it now then I guess you know what this means.

I'm in a jam.

If you're still the friend I hope you are please come to Menethil, I'll be waiting...and hoping. I understand if you can't.

All My Love,
Trid

Perion read the letter over twice before slipping it into her vest. Her head was screaming out warning signals but sometimes you couldn't follow those no matter how hard you tried. Something that felt like a deep blackness settled over her.

Meiun, Perion thought, the old world word for Doom. Is that what you're going to lure me into?

She got up from the edge of the pond and headed towards one of the stairways that lead to a shadowed corner. A shady dealer was there. She felt her body cry out against everything she was thinking of doing. Money and herbs exchanged hands. Perion went back to the pond and started making poison.

I guess you're the death of me, she thought. Trid, you really will drag me down.

-END DAY TWO

[Tor varr]

Perion is a really pessimistic sort, isn't she?

She assumes that not only will she die helping a friend, but she assumes that her friend wants to die. To take it one step further, she even says as much to the Astrid.

I am enjoying this story; I didn't know that you were waiting for reviews, though. Please keep it up, as there is nothing I hate more then an unfinished tale.

[fallonquinn]

It wasn't so much as a lack of reviews that had my posting at hault, it was more of a feeling I guess that no one was reading. Author's are selfish, don't let them tell you otherwise. We write for the purpose of people reading, and if you're and author and disagree then you're just lying to yourself. That's why we're all writing here isn't it? To let other people witness our world?

[bpaige]

Please do keep writing....this is an excellent story...and I enjoy it very much.

[fallonquinn]

-6-

DAY THREE 3:33 AM

Astrid leaned against one of the dock posts dressed in full battle garb. For the first time in a very long time she'd been sober for almost two days now. The feeling left her oddly out of place. She was used to walking up with shattered glass in her spine and head, her stomach a lake of fire. Waking up without those things felt odd. Good, but strange still. Almost like some essential part of her had gone missing during the night, deserted camp and left her alone. Then again it was a bad thing that had left so why should she feel so worried about it.

Night had taken over the day and the thundercloud on the horizon drew closer. Beside her Roland worked at his beard with this small hands. He managed the emergency defense crew during the twilight hours. Most of her story he didn't believe. To most people in Menethil she was just a foreign resident, it wasn't until she walked out of her home dressed in all her battle gear that things started to worry the upper levels of the community. Her weapons were rarities, her armor even more so, even the expression on her face had change. A low brimmed hat dipped down over her face, but the two glowing embers of her eyes burned outwards. So when she'd told Roland what she thought was going to happen he listened. Maybe not entirely but the condition in Menethil Harbor had been upgraded to pseudo-serious.

"It's just a rain cloud." Roland said beside her. "This is stupid."

"If it's JUST a rain cloud how come there's no rain?" Astrid asked. She glanced over at the dwarf, a dark smile glinting her face from the stars. "How come no ships coming in from both ports have reported storms. How come the seas are silent?"

"Luck." Roland said. He grunted and then went back to grooming himself. A large battle axe lay over his left shoulder. A musket was strapped to his left side leg. "Maybe it's just clouds. Did you ever think that?"

Oh I thought that, Astrid snickered. But the people I keep seeing, the hallucinations I keep having are telling me something else.

She tried not to dwell on that. The hallucinations were something else entirely. Aramin with his decayed corpse calling to her, the aardvark creature that drank strange beverages, those were things that people in a town would exile you into the burning lands for. Let the crazies wander with the crazies. She grimaced and adjusted the strap over her breastplate.

Maybe I am crazy, she thought. Maybe I did fall right off the rocker.

"There was a rain storm just this morning." Roland said. "That clarify your fears?"

"From that cloud?" Astrid pointed towards the thing that didn't seem all too distant anymore. She waited for a response and found none. "That's what I thought."

"You really think they're up there."

"Yes." Astrid said. She touched the dagger at her side. "They're up there, and they're waiting for the right time."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"This is Alliance land, what are they going to do? A small group trying to take over a harbor town, a town, I'LL REMIND YOU, that gets Alliance ships in almost every hour."

"They're going to slaughter us." Astrid said. "Who comes in on those boats, mostly? People that have never seen battle outside of the woods fighting animals. Most of them have never even seen a battle ground."

Roland grunted again.

Grunt all you want, dwarf, Astrid thought, it's going to happen.

"If they wanted to take us," Astrid said. "They could. From here it's a hop, skip, and a jump away to Ironfroge."

"A raid group couldn't take Ironforge." Roland said.

"No...it couldn't, but what if they secure this area?" Astrid asked. She watched a sailor pass by them, a lantern in hand, armor on. That last part made her feel a little better. "If they lock down this port then they can bring in whatever they want and storm right down the length of the trail."

"It's a fair trek to Ironforge from here." Roland said.

"Not by the hyppo's." Astrid said. "Then they're much closer aren't they? And if they open portals then what?"

Roland went silent again.

Not so crazy now is it? She thought. You're starting to listen...that's good, but not enough.

From behind them came the sound of footsteps. Astrid spun around, the obsidian dagger drawing from its scabbard. The crimson runes squealed out in joy, actual sound. Terris stood there, mouth agape, he was dressed in riding clothes, Lilliam's hand locked in his, a pack on both of their backs. Toma sat beside them, the skin around his jaws pulled back in a horrid smile she knew all too well. A sharp pang of regret filled her. She stowed the dagger and then moved forward. Lilliam stepped back in fear. Astrid couldn't blame her. She had on heavy black leather armor, a dagger, and a mystified sword on her hips. A long laminated recurve bow hugged her back along with a quiver. A battered tabard covered her chest, the symbol of an eye in the center of a blooming rose tapered on the front.

"Ma-" The girl swallowed. "Mama?"

Astrid knelt down kicking her gear out so it wouldn't catch in the ground. She held out her arms, the brim of her hat obscuring her eyes from view. "Come here kitten."

Lilliam ran, a battered looking stuffed bear in her left hand. The girls tiny arms locked around her neck. "Mama, I don't wanna go."

"I know, sugar." Astrid said. Tears caressed her eyes but she refused to let them pour out. Her voice took on the duty of sadness, it cracked twice while she spoke. "Every-thing's going to be fine." Her vocal chords betrayed her. "YOU'RE going to be fine."

Lilliam pulled back from her. "Why are we going on holiday so late?"

"It's an early vacation." Astrid said. She felt Terris's eyes on her. She kissed Lilliam's nose. "I'll be with you two soon. You LISTEN to Daddy, okay?"

Lilliam nodded. Her eyes were bright, ears twitching she giggled as Astrid tickled her. "SToooooop!"

Please, Elune, let me be able to do this again, Astrid thought. Let me survive so I can see her face again.

Elune didn't answer.

Astrid hugged her daughter against her till she thought the girl might simply be sucked into her. The smell of jasmine filled her hair. Astrid scooped her up, her chest hurt, her heart felt like a sack of bricks. Lilliam giggled grabbing Astrid's pointed ears.

"You're twitching." Lilliam said. She let go and pointed to her own. "Mine aren't."

Astrid let out a surprised laugh. "Yeah...I guess I am twitching." She kissed her daughters forehead and then set her back on the ground. The girl locked her arms around the armored pants Astrid wore. She walked to Terris who only looked at her cooly.

"You know why I'm doing this."

"You were done with THIS sort of thing awhile ago." Terris said. "That's why I married you."

"Then you can marry me again when it's over." Astrid said. She wrapped her arms around his waist. His chin touched the top of her head. She took in the smell of man and sweat, cedar and soap on his skin. "I love you."

"I love you too." Terris said.

Toma barked in the background. Astrid glanced over and saw Lilliam hugging the Ghostpaw around his neck.

Not good at Good-bye's either, are you? She thought.

"You're sure about this?" Terris asked.

Astrid nodded. "If it turns out to be nothing then you'll both have a little vacation in a place she's never been."

Terris stared at her, his glowing eyes suddenly dim. "It's not just a vacation is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're still in The Gulch." Terris said. He wiped at his eyes. Astrid tried to tell herself it wasn't a tear. "You still think the battle is on."

You're right, she thought. Just a little off on the subject. It isn't The Gulch anymore, it's my life.

She stretched her neck out and locked lips with him. Tongues traded places. A hand cupped her breast gently and then let go. "Don't do anything stupid." Terris said.

"You know me." Astrid said. "Stupid is far from my vocabulary."

Terris said nothing. He gathered Lilliam and head towards the Hyppo flight ground. She watched them exchange money and then board the giant bird. A minute later they were in the air headed toward Stormwind. Astrid felt her chest hollow out again. The bird disappeared into the night and with it went any kind of hope that Astrid had.

"You straight?" Roland asked. He'd gotten to his feet, not much of a difference in height there. "Death made an early visit, has it lass?"

Like you'd know, Astrid thought.

"Just watch the cloud." Astrid said. She turned away from him and only then did she feel hot leaks stream down her cheeks, falling off her chin to the ground.

Stop crying, she scolded herself. This is bull****. Stop crying.

A few choked sobs later she did. Which was for the best because the old battle haze settled over her. Things turned gray all around. The night vanished from sight and she was fixed on what was coming. The dead person that'd fought so many Gulch battles resurfaced its icy head back in her mind. Thundercloud or not, it was hovering too close to the docks. The bad business had begun.

-7-

The bad business began at four am. Those who saw it would swear it came from out of nowhere. Astrid who'd been seeing it for days was placid through the whole thing. A flaming boat arrived at four am and out of it poured almost ten horde figures. The dock crew was slaughtered. The home guard gave out the general alarm. At four-ten the storm-cloud that looked too far away to cause harm had settled over the harbor. Ropes flung down from the cloud, the cloud that should have been just a rainstorm days in the coming. Roland screamed commands, after that Astrid took over and The Gulch replayed in her mind, because Menethil was The Gulch. All battle was the Gulch.

-8-

Sometime around four, almost thirty minutes after Terris and Lilliam had departed from Menethil harbor Astrid felt the death curtain fall over her. Her ears twitched, belly went tight, she ground her jaws together, molar against molar. From the first second she knew they'd already lost. Menethil was a thing of the past. A boat coming from Auberdine pulled in to the dock engulfed in flames.

Roland sat up. "****...just what we need, a fire." He grunted.

"That's not a fire." Astrid said. Her eyes had dimmed to a dull glow that were imperceptible from the shadows themselves. "They're here."

"You're seeing thangs that aren't there, lass." Roland grunted. His face went slack a second later as the watering crew who threw the buckets out onto the fire were set to death. A Tauren in heavy battle garb sprung from the boat and slashed the first man at the neck. A freshet of blood sprayed out into the air.

This is it, Astrid thought. This is where it begins.

Roland screamed something. Astrid grabbed his shoulder. "Don't panic. Blow the whitlse, summon the guard. I know you have them on their toes, stories get them giddy, but when that story becomes real it's a different thing. They'll be out in minutes. Go back to the Keep and sound the alarm."

A dark smile crossed her face, something so black that the night itself could not compete with it.

"Lass, you can't go out there yourself!" Roland grunted.

"Just sound the alarm or we'll all be dead." Astrid said. She pulled the obsidian dagger from her waist and the sword as well. Crimson and Blue light radiated out from her. "Do it, Ro."

The dwarf nodded and then faded into the darkness. Astrid rushed forward towards the dock. Stealth dropped over her, she could feel what it was like. Her footsteps became softer. It was almost arcane. If she'd passed in front of someone they wouldn't remember who or what had crossed their path.

Astrid passed between the two sailors who were screaming orders unnoticed. Battle rage settled over her. A strange blankness where her emotions should have been. She dropped down into a hunk as she crossed onto the pier (no-not a pier-ha-ha). Her eyes trained on the flaming boat. That had been a good idea. Fake a flame on a water vessel to have all the supporting crew race up in help and climb aboard to recuse and then slaughter them all. Something that looked like an undead freak dropped onto the dock. It's dead limbs snapped when it hit the wooden boards.

Nice and easy, just like always, Astrid thought.

She cleared the distance along the dock to the far left side and then sprinted towards Tauren warrior who stood guard as the others disembarked from the flaming craft. Her hands tightened around the pommels of her weapons. Her heart made a few rapid beats and then dropped down to a low pace.

I'm back in the Gulch, she thought. Only I'm sober this time, so what does that mean?

An Orc dropped down onto the deck behind the Tauren. Astrid saw it all. Bells shrieked out through the town. The guard had been alerted. Astrid felt a small bit of favor at that.

"Ohm-" The leading Tauren started, but that was all.

Astrid spun on her feet. The dark obsidian blade sliced through the creatures neck. Tendons severed, arteries opened spraying a thick black liquid into the air. Astrid stuffed the sword into the Taurens belly. Strength poured into her muscles. Acid moved along her skin. The blade she wheeled had that ability to steal life from its target. For once she relished that. She pulled the sword out just as a wide clawed hand slapped her in the head. Her body flopped over the edge of the dock and then stopped, toes touching water. A deep growl filled her ears.

Toma flipped her back up onto the wooden boards of the port. Her feet kicked back towards the shore. An Undead slashed at her, fire vomited over her nerves. Blood poured from her neck in a tunnel that ran down over her armor. The Orc that'd disembarked from the boat hovered over her.

Toma leapt and then was batted away into the sea.

This is where I die. Toma I'm sorry old boy, I won't be the one to find a way to switch you back, Astrid thought. I should have taken Roland's advice and left well enough alone.

The Orc seemed to smile. The Tauren and Undead had moved up past her onto dry land. The sky made an intricate outline of the thunderhead she'd seen for the past few days. Black snakes dropped from it, it took almost a minute to realize they were ropes.

I was right, she thought. Aramin and Art were right...this isn't just a hallucination.

A bitter well sprung up in her chest. She'd been out of the game too long. The Orc above her sneered and then brought down a massive mallet towards her head. Astrid closed her eyes and waited.

I'll be in the clouds soon, Lilliam...watching over you, she thought.

When nothing came she opened her eyes to see a reddish colored long sword holding the mallet at bay. Astrid felt her vision rove down the length of the blade.

I know that sword, she thought. Did you really come?

The Orc screamed something and then his head detached from his body in an invisible blow. Blood spurted from the stump of neck that used to relay commands. The Orc's body took a wavering step backwards, the mallet flailing in its hands and then fell over. Astrid blinked her eyes trying to clear them.

"What would you do without me?" A voice asked.

"Die?" Astrid said. She felt a giggle start to form in her chest and smothered it down.

"That's too easy." Perion Aphelion said. "Get your ass up, maggot."

Astrid got to her feet. A thick gash over her right cheek and brow standing out. Blood poured from it. She dipped her hand into a pouch along her belt and then spread a black thumb against the wounds. The burning sensation died down after a minute, the blood flow stopped. Astrid glanced over at a woman she hadn't seen in years.

Perion Aphelion smiled at her and then her figure disappeared into the shadows. Astrid let herself do the same. Throughout Menethil screams were being raised. Astrid dashed towards the tavern, her cloak of cover never broken. A tall undead woman had a pole lodged in Fitz's stomach. It hadn't pierced the skin yet but it would. Astrid moved behind her and then jammed her dagger into the Undead woman's throat at the same time she shoved her sword through the things torso. Black bile spilled out onto the ground.

"-ELP!" Fitz screamed.

Astrid pulled both blades loose and then swung high with her curved sword. The blade cut into the Undead woman's shoulders. Flesh tore away, bone flew into the air. The flesh connecting its right shoulder separated and then tore apart. Dusty ligaments shattered. The Undead woman's to half sheared away pouring dust onto the ground. Astrid turned her dagger around in her hand. A second later the Undead's arms were peeled from its body. Astrid kicked the body aside and then moved back into the darkness. Fitz kept screaming but that was fine.

Taurens, Orcs, and Undead, flooded the harbor.

We can't win this, Astrid thought, we never had a chance.

The Thundercloud poured troops down onto Menethil Harbor. Astrid pivoted on her feet caught in a void of invisibility. She headed back towards the dock. She stopped at ground land, blood clotting her view. Toma roamed next to her, hidden in the shadows of doorways. She caught his eye and then touched her blade.

The Ghostpaw narrowed its gaze.

She touched the blade and then the tendon over her back ankle. Toma gave a strange sort of not and then dashed off into the shadows. Troops swarmed towards the harbor. Astrid watched them. Ten of them were cut down by one Orc wielding a spear.

"They mean to take this place, don't they?" A voice said.

Astrid wheeled on her feet, dagger flying out. The black obsidian met cold blue steel inscribed with black runes.

"Perion!"

"Who do you think saved you?"

"I don't know." Astrid said. Her body started to shake. Adrenaline poured into her system.

"Well it wasn't Casper the ghost." Perion said.

"You got my note." Astrid said.

The woman leaned back against one of the houses. "Yeah, I wish I hadn't."

Orc's and Taurens poured down from the ropes that the Zeppelin laid. The Horde spilled into Menethil harbor like ants spread from the nest. Astrid pressed herself as far back to the house as she could. Fitz was still screaming, running into the tavern as he did so.

"This is a dead place." Perion said.

"Yeah..." Astrid turned towards the downpour of horde. "It is."

"You still want to take a few?" Perion asked. The Woman's dark eyes flashed from the brim of her hat.

"Yes..." Astrid said. "I do."

"Then let's roll." Perion said.

[arcamedes]

Wow....I am even more amazed and entranced into this story then before. Please keep up the posts, this is a great story.

[Niderin]

Im always reading if you want an aduience

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
SIXTH MOVEMENT: Ambivalence/A Girl Named Sooner
By: F.H. Quinn

Authors Notes: This is entirely a Perion section. Hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading. (Any mistakes in geography or references are mine, and I apologize for all of them you may find.)

-1-

Perion crept around the corner of a house, the shadows pasted to her body. The docks were on fire. The blaze reached up clouding the zeppelin from view. A Tauren came around the corner a little too fast. A dark smile flickered across her face. She moved behind him with an erie ease that looked ghost-like. She arched herself on her toes, gripping a lock of hair on the Taurens head and then ripped it back. Cold blue steel ran across the Tauren's throat. A strange bubbled, gargling noise came from the open flesh. Hot red liquid poured out in a freshet painting the side of the house.

Sorry to ruin your good time, Perion thought.

She raced across the street into the shadows of two homes. Screams echoed all around her. The Menethil guards were all at the docks trying to fight of the onslaught of warriors that poured down around them. From the shadows behind her a giant dog appeared. Perion whirled on her feet, her hand locked around a small satchel of blinding powder. The ghostpaw let out a small whine. It's jaws were blood stained, the white fur mangy and crimson. A wretched sort of smile hung on its jowls. Tied to its neck was a piece of rolled parchment.

"Toma...to me." Perion whispered. She drew further into the alley between the homes.

The ghostpaw let out another murmur and then sat on its haunches. Perion untied the piece of parchment and unrolled it.

Peir,

Docks are lost. Fall back to the city gates. Get as many people as you can out towards the wetlands. We're retreating.

Trid

Perion turned the parchment over to the blank side and scribbled her own note.

Trid,

Roger that. Moving out.

Peir.

She tied the note to Toma and patted his head. "Back to Astrid." She said. The bloodstained ghostpaw vanished back into the darkness, the outline of its body visible as it snaked round the side of a house. Perion turned back towards the opening of the alleyway. From one of the satchels on her side she pulled a handful of spikes and tossed them onto the roadway. Falling back she went around to the rear of the house and jimmied the door open.

"ANYONE IN HERE?!?" She screamed. From somewhere near a dark outlined closet came the shuffle of people moving. Perion drew her dagger, blue flickering sword in the other hand. "Hello?" she whispered.

At the closet she came to a stop and tapped the door with the pommel of her sword. "Come on out." She said. Sniffles and muffled sobs came from behind the door. Perion raised an eyebrow and stowed her weapons. She grasped the knob praying it wasn't what she thought it was. When the door opened a small figure huddled back behind a pile of clothes. Perion squatted, her eyes darting out towards the dock. Through the windows she could see the flames rising.

"It's all right, I won't hurt you." Perion said. She reached out one gloved hand and peeled away the clothes from the pile. A tear stained human girl was curled up in the corner, dressed in a dirty slip, brown hair tangled and mangy. "Where are your parents, honey?"

"They ran away."

Oh dear God, no, Perion thought.

She'd seen this sort of thing when she was with Astrid. They'd passed through towns were groups of children, usually in packs of two or three were simply left to fend for themselves when their parents either died or decided that they'd simply turn tail. But here? Of all places? Her chest took an odd thump, the adrenaline draining from her system.

"What's your name?"

"Sooner." The girl said. She wiped at her face leaving a smudge of dirt along her face.

"I'm Perion."

"You're an elfie."

Perion smiled in spite of herself. "Yeah...I'm an elfie."

One of the windows behind her shattered. Perion's nerves went aflame. She spun slamming the closet door shut in the process. Her blades sprung from their scabbards. An Undead ran through the door, half its face eaten away by whatever rot ate at them. Gleaming white teeth shown out through the ragged hole on its cheek. Two rotted eyes roved and then spotted her. Perion raced forward. Her feet pivoted, she jumped up onto one of the chairs with all her momentum sending it skidding across the floor where it smashed into the Undead woman. A garbled screech came from the creature. Perion kicked herself off the chair. Something hot and cold at the same time tore into her left side. She felt a strange disembodied sensation of air touching places that it shouldn't. Looking down she saw a dagger buried in the small gap of her leather armor.

She stabbed me, Perion thought. The ***** stabbed me.

Dark colored blood poured around the wound soaking her left side. The Undead got up off the floor, its staff came up and then brilliant white light filled the room. Perion stumbled backwards blinded. She screamed something and then felt cold floor under her back. Scrambling on the floor she tried to get to her feet but nothing responded. Something moved her body though. Perion got to her feet, beyond her control and ran around the room in all directions.

Damn!

How long did Fear spells last? Perion couldn't remember. Her left side exploded in pain again as she rain into a wall, the hilt of the dagger pushing deeper into her side. The blade moved around somewhere in her intestines.

So much for getting out of this without any scars, she thought hysterically.

Her vision slowly came back and when it did she was standing still in the center of the room, a table knocked over. The Undead stood at the closet, the door flung open. Sooner screamed, a sound so wretched that Perion felt her heart twist. Rage, a liquid black thing, flooded her chest. She dashed towards the mage. The Undead turned. Perion through a packet onto the ground. Smoke exploded from the satchel eradicating her from view.

Vanish that, *****, Perion thought. She hovered to the corner of the room, the shadows caressing her with long dark fingers. How long had they served her? Even in daylight the shadows managed to hide her when she called them up.

Make a wish, sweetheart, Perion thought.

The cat whisper of her feet moved closer. The Undead darted from side to side peering around the room trying to find her. Perion stopped dead center an inch away from the creature and then let the shadows drop away from her face.

"...Boo..." She whispered. Both blades gouged into the Undead's stomach. Rotted sausage intestines spilled onto the ground. Perion pulled outwards with both arms. The blades cut through tendons and dead muscle like butter. The only thing that held the creature upright was the knobby white colored spine. She watched in horrid ecstasy as the mage's face turned from surprise, to pain, and then to utter disbelief. Perion sheathed her sword and then flipped the dagger so she held it blade down.

"Las, ka quuei-" The Undead started.

Perion drew back and then buried the dagger into the creatures skull. A sick popping noise cut into the air. She turned the blade sideways with a grunt. The mage's skull crack, splintered, and then shattered like an egg. Black liquid poured from its cranial cavity. It dropped to its knees. Perion grabbed the blade, planted one booted foot on the mages head and then pulled it free. She kicked the body aside.

Inside the closet Sooner had her arms wrapped around her legs, shaking back and forth, mumbling something that Perion couldn't make it. She stowed her dagger and scooped the girl up into her arms.

"We're getting out of here, sug." Perion said. They left through the back door. Back in the darkness, Perion headed towards the city gates. She ran into group of huddled civilians near the stables. Sooner had locked her legs around Perion's waist, her arms around her neck, head buried into her shoulder.

Perion pointed at the two closest men. "Grab the horses." She said. "Head towards the wetlands we're making a caravan out of here."

If I make it that far, Perion thought.

She felt lightheaded. There was no point pulling the dagger out of her side right now, that'd do more damage than good. From the feel it was planted deep. If she pulled it out a waterfall of blood would vomit from the wound and she'd pass out before she could take care of it. Sooner cried into her shoulder. From behind them towards the docks, a massive explosion rippled outwards. Perion felt a hard warm hand push her forward. She stumbled but managed to keep her feet.

"What was that?" A woman screamed.

"Shut it!" Perion shouted. "We're leaving!"

"But my house-"

"Your homes are gone." Perion said. Her dark eyes flickered beneath the brim of her hat. "Everything you know and love has been swept away, its time to move on."

The men came back with horses. Perion gave them a quick look over, they were large strong beasts. "Women and children on the horses." She watched as frail shaking women mounted the bareback horses. The men helped them up. Perion, still holding Sooner moved towards the gap between the stables and home towards the road. She peered out over the dead thing and then peeked around the corner. All signs showed clear but there might have been any number of Horde around just waiting for a pack of runaways to slaughter.

How many rogues are out there still hiding just like I do, Perion wondered. Guess I'll find out when I get a kidney shot.

"Ma'am." A tall man spoke to her. Behind him a horse pranced eagerly at the reins.

Perion shook her head. "No, take the people out of her."

"Ma'am..." He shook his head. "I'm just a blacksmith...I-I can't even hold a steady job."

"Today you're a leader." Perion said. "Get used to it." She turned from him. "These peoples lives are in your hands now. So get them the hell out of here. "Sooner honey, stay still." From her back she pulled out a long curved, polished, bow. She moved the quiver from her back to her left thigh.

"But-"

"No but's." Perion said. She drew a razor arrowed and knocked it. With Sooner clutching her and sobbing it was difficult to move but not impossible. The faint-headed feeling worried her more than anything else. "Take care of them. When I give the signal, go. Don't stop, even if someone falls behind. Head out as far into the wetlands as you can."

"Then what?" The man climbed up onto the horse, his brown eyes wide and afraid. But that was good, if you weren't afraid you were apt to die. Perion knew that from a long dead trail of experience.

Perion glanced over her shoulder at him. "You'll know what to do when the time comes."

She ran out into the street not liking the human body armor clinging to her chest. Down the road a ways an orc stood at the doorway of a house peering in. Perion leveled her bow, pulled back the string, and then aimed. Breath left her, her heart even seemed to stop. Her fingers went free from the string. The arrow sliced through air. The orc's head snapped back, the crack echoing even over the clash of metal from the dock. Perion raised her free hand.

"GO!" She screamed.

Behind her the deafening sound of stampeding horses blacked out all other sounds. Sooner turned and ran towards the gates.

I hope you know what you're doing Astrid, by the Gods I hope you do.

To be continued...

[Niderin]

Dam another cliffhanger

[arcamedes]

so far so good. im enjoying this story

[Niderin]

are you still workin on this

[fallonquinn]

Yes, I am still working on this. I recently got into a major car accident and broke my collarbone and wrist. I apologize for the delay but there should be something out here in the next few days.

[arcamedes]

Sorry to hear about your accident and am glad to hear you're alright (for the most part).

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
SIXTH MOVEMENT: Ambivalence/A Girl Named Sooner
By: F.H. Quinn

-2-

Astrid hurried a group of humans from their home and directed them back towards the gate. She sat in their home, from the windows she could see the docks on fire and that was just fine. The town was lost. She should have seen that by a long time ago.

You would have if you hadn't been boozing it up, she thought. How many days did you have?

Too many, she had too many days to figure out what was going on and now everyone was dying. At the kitchen table she seated herself and spilled both hands out, palms up towards the ceiling. The harbor was lost, so what happened after that? She touched the gash on her cheek hoping her idea would work. Both of the houses doors were bolted shut, the shades drawn, chairs locked under the knobs, that wouldn't hold anyone off for long if they really wanted to get in but it would buy her some time.

Astrid tore open the gash on her face. The black sludge that held the wound closed gave way and blood poured down her cheek. She coated her thumb in the stuff and then drew a symbol onto the tabletop, a triangle with a circle around it. Two strokes later she wrote the names of two people above and below the symbol. That done she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and clapped her hands together twice. The air in the room pressurized, her long ears popped and then everything went silent. Astrid opened her eyes and almost shrieked.

The interior of the house had turned into a strange grand hall. The lights were out but tubes from the ceiling filled with colored gas lit the place. She sat in a strange semi-circular booth made of some sleak material that felt like leather only smoother. A table locked her into place. The room was filled with people, hundreds, maybe thousands of people crammed back to back, face to face, side to side, swarmed over each other. They wore strange clothes, tops that only covered the women's breasts and skirts that cut off just below their rears. Astrid raised an eyebrow more disorientated than anything. Her mouth hung open. Lights flashed out from a stage a hundred feet across from her.

She raised a hand and realized she was dressed in a tight fitting black shirt and pants. A pair of odd shoes covered her feet, they felt like sandals but there was a good three inches of shoe between her and the ground. On the stage a group of men were shadowed by flashing colored lights coming from small circular boxes. Red light, green light, blue light, danced all around the room.

Astrid buried both of her hands into her hair. For one horrid moment she thought her ears were gone. It took almost a minute to realize they weren't gone, they were just human ears. She looked at her hands and saw the cream colored flesh of a human. The disorientation fluttered through out her. Was she smaller too? It felt that way. It felt like she'd lost at least six inches of height, her face even felt different.

If I look into a mirror I'll see a totally different person and I'll go crazy, she thought.

"What did you expect?" Aramin asked.

To her right the dead man smiled, his lips were gone. Pus cracked open through a bandage over his cheeks.

"You wanted to see us, it's not as simple as just going to you." Aramin said.

From her left: "You'd be suprised what we have to do."

Astrid knew that voice and didn't want to see the face, but as with all things, like in nightmares where you can't outrun the monster chasing you, she panned left and saw the strange aardvark-ghostpaw creature sipping at a massive glass topped with paper umbrellas and two straws.

"Had to find you a body." Artie said. His giant jaws drew back, thin lips gripping the purple colored straw that went into his drink. "Wasn't easy. People aren't too keen on being possessed." The ant-eater creature waved a clawed hand at her. "Never knew you knew magic."

"It...it was just a locator spell." Astrid mumbled. Her eyes were saucer wide. It was real, she was sure of that. The sweat on her body felt real, the scent of alcohol, all enticing, and smoke filled her nose. Her breasts felt heavy against her chest.

"Well you located us." Aramin said.

From all around her a strange sort of music filled the room, all in time with the men on the stage. She goggled at all of it. Humans pressed their bodies to each other, exchanged spit and tongues.

Where did I send myself?

From all around her came a man's voice, drums, and distorted strums from what sounded like a mandolin, or at least what she thought of as a mandalin in her world.

"So this is the last time that I hold your hand. I want to kiss you on the mouth and tell you I'm your biggest fan." The man's voice sang.

Aramin leaned over a tall glass in his hand rotted hand, his finger bones touched the glass at some places, the pads of his flesh in others. "Why'd you call us?" He asked.

"It's happening." Astrid said. She touched face feeling the features there. The smooth brow and nose. Her lips were coated with some kind of wax it felt like. When she pulled her hand away she saw a deep plum color there. Distracted she said, "The Horde have dropped into Menethil."

"A horse is a horse, of course, of course," Artie said. His long pink tongue dipped through the umbrella's and into his drink. "What do you think we've been telling you all this time?"

I didn't know, Astrid thought. I really didn't know.

"You knew." Aramin said. A bit of dried flesh dropped off his face like a dried leaf.

A mummy, Astrid thought, My Gods I'm taking to a Mummy and a freak.

Hideous laughter came to her lips. Astrid clamped it down. She could feel every bit of sanity breaking away from her concious thought. Was this what it felt like for them when they came back? Did Aramin feel like he was going insane all those times he stepped into her world?

"Don't be so unkind. I know I stole your coat, you can have this song I wrote. I've just crossed the line from fashion to crime." The man on stage sang. Blue light dimmed to a shade of black that outlined his white features.

"Hold onto yourself." Aramin said. His right eye was nothing more than a puddle of congealed yellow liquid that rolled in its socket. "You lose us now and there won't be anymore."

Astrid almost welcomed that. She could feel another being in her, someone sleeping. The soul of someone she'd taken over. Lilliam's face came into her mind. The sharp features, the dimpled cheeks. Tears stung the back of her eyes. Astrid closed her hands into fists.

"What can I do?" She asked.

"Nothing." Artie said. He raised the giant glass in one clawed hand. "Menethil is gone, but that was always how it should have been."

"No it shouldn't." Astrid whispered. A tear rolled down over her cheek. "It can't be."

The aardvavrk leaned over towards her. It's long pink tongue raced out and ran up from her neck to her cheek leaving a slimy trail of mucus on the way up. "You don't have time to debate." The creature glared at her with its two black eyes and then went back to its slouched pose on in the booth.

"The Gulch." Aramin said. "You know its the key."

"You're just like your dad. Surprise! You don't only share his eyes. It's the drink that's in your hand, and it's that knack for telling lies. Why am I always right?" The man on stage sang.

Astrid glanced around to try and find out how his voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. She spotted a dozen rectangular boxes with something that looked like a black veil over the front. Her curiousity died after that.

This is a world where I don't belong, she thought.

"What about the Gulch?" Astrid asked.

"You have to go back if you want anyone to survive." Aramin said. The knobby chalk white of his clavicle stood out in the black light. Tattered flesh surrounded it, dried and dead.

"What's the point of The Gulch if the Horde is already invaded us?" Astrid asked. She touched her human arms with her fingers. They felt stripped and useless. She doubted that the body she was in could fight off anything.

The Dead Man glanced over at the aardvark and then they both shrugged. Aramin turned towards her, the socket of his missing eye drawing her in. "The Tower...Astrid...it has no reason for you, but it still puts its finger on you."

"What tower?" She hugged herself. Cold touched her chest. If what she thought was true then things were so much worse than she could have possibly imagined.

The aardvark pulled a deck of cards from somewhere in its fur. Just where Astrid didn't know, the thing materilized out of nowhere to her. Its clawed hands shuffled the deck as its pink tongue flailed at the giant glass of alcohol. His two black eyes turned towards her.

"Long Island Iced Teas....fantastic invetion they made." Artie said.

"Right." Astrid said.

A tall woman dressed in a strange black body suit that only cut off at her shoulders came up to them. "Drinks?"

Astrid raised an eyebrow and then leaned forward along the table. "WHIZ-KEY" She said. It came out of her mouth wrong. She knew that.

The waitress looked at her and then laughed. "She's had a bit much hasn't she?"

"You'd be suprised." Aramin said.

Why don't they see? Astrid thought. There's a decaying corpse and a clawed aardvark-ghostpaw next to me. Why can't she see that?

"What kind of whiskey?" The girl asked. Half her ass hung out from the body suit she wore. Two tanned cheeks gleaming in the dark light. Her face was covered with paints it looked like.

No, not paints, Astrid thought. Some kind of powders.

"I'll leave it up to you." Astrid said.

"I don't swing that way, lady." The waitress said.

"Swing what way?" Astrid asked. She watched the girl ready to spring across the table and shear her to pieces with-

With what?

A frown touched Astrid's face. "Cheap." She said. The girl nodded and then left the table. Astrid watched her go and felt a weird sort of confusion form in her chest. What kind of world didn't understand whiskey? Was that even a drink where she was?

It is, she thought, and what are you doing ordering it?

Astrid buried her head in her hands.

"And in the bathroom is where I want you. Against the graffiti walls, we know no love at all, and just to see your body in a place so tacky. Well, there's no better irony in my own depravity." The man on stage sang.

Art shuffled the cards around in his massive hands with something like practiced ease. He flipped a card out at random, or at least it looked like random, Astrid was starting to believe that with the anteater there was no such thing as random. Just planned chaos. The card displayed a massive tower that disappeared into the clouds. Explosions were illustrated along the tower, broken trumpets and trampled banners were hanging from various outcrops of stone. Written on the bottom were a number of indecipherable symbols. The aardvark tapped the card with one giant talon.

"That Tower." He said.


-3-

If one were to peer in the window along the cobblestone pathway to the harbor they might have seen a woman rocking gently back and forth behind a table. And it was such a creature that did so. Its solid red eyes saw the woman and then, as with all good creatures, tried the door.

To be continued....

[Niderin]

I really dont understad the ardvark or dead guy some one explain them to me if it doesnt ruin the story plz.
P.S. Glad to hear your all right

[Nudgebawls]

That chapter completely lost me .. :shocked:

[ameras]

the undead guy and the aardvark are people from her past that were in the gulch i think..who she let down or something but it said earlier in the story so just reread it...

im loving this story are you still writing?

[Niderin]

Um i never read of an ardvark in the begining posts so. Also whats with her becoming a human.

[ameras]

well she defintly said something about an aardvark
it was a spell or a dream i think

[arcamedes]

Good story. Got a little confused towards the end but figured it out. Hope you post again soon.

[Niderin]

The dead people freak me out

[arcamedes]

I really wish a new part would come out soon. I love this story and can't wait to see how it ends. Hope everything is ok Fallonquinn.

[Niderin]

People dont rush the masters.

[arcamedes]

lol sorry about that. Just really excited to see how it ends.

[Niderin]

Its all right if your a good person

[Sulvanis]

Very good, I like the story very much and can't wait until you post the next part. There's just one thing. I'm getting a bit weary of the dead people and stuff, I know their a big part in the story so you'd kill it if you revealed everything about them, but I think you should have some more explanatory stuff on them in the next post. Love the story. I might be posting a Warsong story of my own on this forum sometime, I just started it. You're story is so inspirationalhttp://forums.worldofwar.net/images/smilies/gold/grin.gif
:grin: -Sulvanis

[Sulvanis]

Falloquin, I just posted a new thread on a Warsong story I recently created. It's called "Untitled (involves Warsong Gulch)" because I don't know a title for it yet. Please tell me if you want me to change some things or if you think it is too alike to your story and we will sort it out.

[Foonyak]

Hmm...this was a very entertaining story. I sure hope Fallonquinn hasn't given up on it.

-Foo

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
SEVENTH MOVEMENT: Terminal Overdrive
By: Fallon Quinn

Authors Notes: Thank you everyone for your support during my gap. I've taken many liberties with geography and placement. Once again, blame me for the mistakes, not the story. Enjoy.

-1-

Perion pulled the brim of her hat low against her eyes. The fires from The Harbor blazed all night and for the next week. Smoke rose to fist the sky like a hand of soil stretching towards the sky. In the dark some things felt all right. Sooner knew that was a lie. There was a fine line between seeing your past mistakes and watching your present ones unfold before you. She'd spent the days roving through the caravan of villagers looking for Astrid.

She's dead, a voice whispered. Back at the harbor, probably left in a bail of hay to rot.

A short metal spun flask appeared in her hand. The woman stopped and extracted a small brown root in the other before crushing it and dry swallowing the powder. The root hit her nervous system like a freight train. Her spine felt like a volcano had just taken permanent residence in the back of her skull, pouring lava over vertebra and cartilage. Whisky burned her insides. Around her a small group of humans were steering horses down the path towards Ironforge.

Where do we go after that?

The answer didn't come, and she didn't expect it to. The Harbor was gone, lost beyond any recoverable means, the boats would be one way Horde tickets from now on into Alliance land. She thought of the fence in Ironforge near the Forlorn Cavern. On occasion she'd had the ugly beast broker stolen artifacts and weapons for her. A dim flicker of a plan began to unravel in her head. Favors, the world operated on the basic principle of favors. Gods knew people owed her quite a few. The only question was wether to cash all of them in or not. The humans could fend for themselves, why the hell she helped them escape seemed like a mystery in the night. By daybreak she could fumble an answer to that out but not at night.

Her boot stuck in a thick puddle. Perion grunted and pulled forward. Somewhere up ahead a pack of horses let out cries of protest. They'd already left two behind on their way to Ironforge, the horses exhausted, eyes bulging had simply died, no grand finale, nothing important. Two giant muscular horses had up and fallen over not to rise again. The villagers spent two hours stripping the dead things of the meat on them. Perion had a strip of horse jerky in her tunic.

Be damned if I'm ever coming into the wetlands again, Perion thought.

She took another nip of whiskey and then tucked the flask back into her jacket. The roots in her system finally hit the blood stream. A renewed sense of energy filled her. In another four hours she'd crash like a cannonball, bottoming out to the dull metallic task of copper in her mouth and the sensation of glass in her spine, but four hours away was four hours away.

Something tugged at the hem of her tunic. Perion jerked and, hand dipping to the daggers at her side. A startled cry came out from beside her. The little girl from the harbor jumped back a foot.

"Sooner?"

"Yeah."

"****." Perion let out a lung-full of spent air. Her ears twitched as a breeze poured through the caravan. "Why are you back here?"

The little girl stumbled and then regained her footing. "I don't feel safe up front."

Welcome to the club, kiddo, Perion thought.

"Well it's not safe back here either." Perion said. She could smell the stench behind them. The roots in her system were jacking her nervous system to a profound level, even the whisper of trained feet caught her ears. Two rogues, one on each side, less than a click back, watching them, marking the pack.

And when they come?

She pushed the thought away. It refused to go. Instead it coiled up in her chest like a viper, fangs dripping venom through her stomach. The Rogue glanced over her shoulder. A few scattered men of the Harbor Defense were guarding the rear, mostly untrained, and from the scene at the Harbor itself, less than battle ready.

Trid, you really ****ed me over this time, she thought. Nice and smooth like you always do.

"I think my Momma's dead." Sooner said.

Perion let her eyes dance over to the tree line at the right. There were holes everywhere to slip into and then backtrack. "Why do you think that?"

"I don't know." The girl kicked at the dirt and pressed on. "It's like something in my tummy telling me so."

"Intuition?"

"Huh?"

"It's called intuition." Perion said. She moved a few feet closer to the side of the trail. "Sweetie...head into the center of the pack, mix in with the horses and the other kids."

"Why?"

"Got some visitors to introduce." Perion said.

The girl blinked at her and then Perion disappeared into the shadows. One second she was there and then a slick cloak of night dropped over her. From the thick shrubbery she watched Sooner blink, and then turn to run towards the center of the caravan. The Elf let her hand drop to the pummel of the dagger, and then the worst came.

The wait.

-2-

Drowning, she was drowning and for some reason that was all right. That was more than all right, that was what she DESERVED. The water filled her throat, spilling salt into her lungs.

Another few seconds and then I'll be so much-

Astrid's eyes flipped open to a darkened sky. A needlework of foreign stars stared down at her.

No...not foreign...just different.

Turning her head she could make out the witch's clubbed foot to the east, but it was far too much to the east. Astrid blinked. Something swam behind her eyes. Fevered she got to her feet, her body stripped of armor and weapons, sand between her toes. A steady drop of tide raced up to meet her and then receded back towards its main body. Astrid peered out to sea. Somewhere far off along the horizon line she could see a ship, but then again maybe that was just delirium.

"I'm at the edge of the world and all but forgotten." She whispered. Her memory made a frantic effort to piece together what had happened. She was in a house back at the harbor and then something had showed up, something had smashed through the doors and-

And what?

She didn't know. No big surprise there. The rest of her body chose to make itself known then. Astrid grimaced at the burning sensation along her left hand. In the darkness she raised her arm and frowned. Deep gashes bore into her palm, the flesh there bloated and gray. The stink off it was immense.

That explains the fever, she thought. I'm going septic, baby.

The thought struck her funny. A fit of giggles racked her body till she tapered off into a coughing fit that left her feeling lightheaded. All of the laughter left her when she saw her right foot. Two of her toes were missing. Stumps present where toes should have been. Astrid stared at the absence of bone and tissue in shock. A bitter metallic taste flooded the back of her throat. She turned her head to the side and dry heaved into the sand.

Tears spilled out over her cheeks. It was actually happening. She was somewhere, lost, alone, sick, and god knew what else. What happened? She was in the house, in the house, and-

A blank slate. Nothing. Astrid. Felt a twinge of a memory try to flicker into existence but it died the moment she reached for it. Crying she dropped into the sand, cradling her head with the one good hand. Her left stank of dead rotting flesh.

May have to cut those off, she thought. Following that: With what, dumbass?

"Gods help me, I see big trouble ahead." She whispered to no one. Astrid stumbled to her feet and scanned the beach. It swept out north and south along the coast line. To the east she saw nothing but more sand. Her feet started north for no reason she could think of, a shambling sort of walk that favored her good foot.

Two toes down and soon to be a hand or arm, she thought. Time to take inventory.

She was alive. Check one in the bonus column. How she was alive didn't matter, but she was. Battered, broken, and sick, yes, but still alive. Lost. Check one in the unknown circle. The Witch's Club star form gave her a vague description of where she was, but her head refused to put the pieces together.

Okay, so leave that part out for now.

Time. How long had she been on on the beach? Running her good hand under her tattered shirt she felt the xylophone ridges of her ribs. A while, she'd been out on the shore for a while.

Did I fall into the harbor and drift?

That didn't seem very plausible. She would have drowned at sea if that were true. Weaponless and alone she began to shiver as she walked. Her vision swam between clarity and a rich shimmer that wavered everything to a flat ocean. Another coughing fit seized her. Astrid dropped to her knees working through it. Air finally found a secret door into her lungs. Head spinning she lay back into the warm sand. Sweat rolled of her brow.

Status check not so good, old girl, she thought. In fact it looks ****ing BLEAK.

She blacked out out for some unknown length of time. When she woke it was still dark. A cool breeze rolled up off the ocean. Astrid coughed and turned onto her other side. Black tracery lines crawled up her left arm meeting at the wrist. Another few days and it'd be up at the elbow. After that it would move to the shoulder, armpit, and then her heart, and then-

Then I'm dead, fabulous.

Beside her, invisible, she heard the soft whisper of dead flesh like dry leaves. The ghosts of all those she'd let down. Aramin was behind her, she was sure of that. Refusing to look Astrid closed her eyes and begged darkness to come. When it did she welcomed it like a cold shower during a drought.

To be continued...

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
SEVENTH MOVEMENT: Terminal Overdrive
By: Fallon H. Quinn

Authors Notes: None really, enjoy.


-3-

The wait wasn't long. Perion heard the soft patter of cloaked feet approaching her. Still as death she waited in the shrubs, a small knife in hand. The dull black iron three inches long, one inch wide. The tool had a very specific use. To her right a hunched figure padded in the dark. Perion marked the familiar outline of armor and weapons.

No sound...tying down your equipment, she thought. Might be a little harder than I thought.

Her hand went to the stitched wound on her right side. A heavy musk of rotten flesh hit her nostrils. Undead. Another bad sign to chalk up in the tally box. Perion let the shadows take her deeper. The figure moved with in an inch of her. The Rogue sprang. The small dagger planted itself in the back of the intruders neck, dead center. Through the handle Perion felt the vibration of iron sliding through vertebrae. She spun, instinct taking over, three razors found three different spots on the undead's chest. Perion twisted her hip, stitches holding, and drove a boot foot into the creatures knee. The joint cracked sideways. Her arm twisted around the things head and then brought it to the ground in a limp husk. Perion fumbled herself on top pinning the undead's arms with her knees. Two blank black eyes glared at her.

"You're wondering why you can't move, I take it?" Perion said. She tried to hide the tremble in her hands. The roots coursed through her blood. Almost a week of no sleep and nothing but uppers to keep her alert things were starting to fray.

A gargled mix of speech came from the undead. Perion nodded, her eyes wisps of smoke. "Nerves, sweetie-pie. Even dead people have them, hit the right ones and you go..." A strange giggle escaped her. "...well dead I guess."

Perion let her hands do the work, stripping armor, searching for anything that might have some clue on it. In the third pocket underneath the creatures breastplate she found a sheet of parchment folded into quarters. Perion unfolded it, ears alert. A curved black line ran over the map with 'X's' marked in strategic places, otherwise it was blank.

"Overlay?" Perion asked. She stared down into the face of one that had already crossed over and come back. Folding the parchment she tucked it into her tunic and stood from the ground. Her hand found the musket stashed in the battered leather holster. Getting to her feet she drew the weapon and pressed it to the creatures temple. "Time to go home."

Perion pulled the trigger.

-4-

Daybreak brought on a real sense of panic that even Astrid couldn't deny. The heat pushed her fever to an unknown degree, a wild guess would have shot her past 102. That wasn't the only reason to panic. The black network of veins and poison had reached her elbow, and that shouldn't be right, it should have been mid-forearm.

How long were you asleep?

Astrid didn't know. Frustrated, she got to her feet and cried out in pain. Her right foot reminded her that she was minus two toes. Off in the distance to the north she could make out a shimmering shape that hadn't been there the night before. Or if it had she'd simply not seen it. Dazed she stumbled towards it. A shack?

Which side of the divide am I on?

It'd be a ***** if the only living thing on the beach turned out to be Horde. Sweat rolled off her body. Astrid began to form a growing opinion that her kidneys were going on strike, that and her collarbone was broken. Every-time she moved her left arm a searing finger of white drove itself straight down over her clavicle. Hair plastered itself to her forehead.

I need a damn drank. Anything. Fitz probably already has a bottle back in his hand. So why can't I?

Beside her a voice spoke. "Don't get loopy, you're sick."

Astrid turned her head, not the least bit surprised to see Lilliam trailing at her side, a dirty slip and leather sandals clad on her. Astrid turned her head back towards the shack in the distance. A poppy drunkards song started to mutter from her lips.

"Heyyyyy, Julie, look what they're doing to me, trying to trip me up, trying to wear me down." Astrid mumbled.

"Don't crack." Lilliam said. The little girl skipped a few paces in front of her. "You've got a long way to go, and I hate to be the bearer of bad news but that arm's as good as gone."

"Fantastic." Astrid whispered through a throat full of razors.

It occurred to her that talking back to your own hallucinations was a bad idea, but at this point something about it felt comforting, and when had she ever not talked back to them? Aramin would be popping up soon, she was sure of that. Madness had a method, just like sickness did.

Aramin didn't appear though. Lilliam glanced over her shoulder at her, eyes flat and unimpressed. "We're safe if that's what you're wondering. YOU on the other hand are not."

The shack didn't budge from the horizon line. Nothing got easier. Astrid ground her teeth together ignoring the ugly reply from her head, the sick throb between her ears. She stumbled to the ground an hour later and dry heaved again into the sand. Puking wasn't nearly as fun when nothing came out. Darkness danced around the corners of her vision, a constant flicker of hand movement that made her tremble. Death was behind her, not a yard, not a foot, an inch, he was behind her just waiting for that poison to work its way up past her armpit and straight into her heart.

Astrid screamed, her throat tore. Tears would have come if her body had been able to make them. Lilliam stopped skipping and came to her side.

"Get up." Lilliam said. "You've got to get up."

Dark colored blood poured between her teeth. Astrid choked back and spat a mouthful onto the hungry sand. Whole body protesting she stood, swayed twice and then took a cautionary step forward.

"One foot in front of the other." Lilliam said. The little girl was not her daughter. That much Astrid knew. She was something else. A goblin? Did they make machines to twist people's minds?

Get yourself together. Inventory time again.

Fine, all right, she could do that much. Beside her the sea lapped like a set of hungry jaws waiting to see if she fell close enough for the tide to drag her out. She was alive. That she'd established, check in the bonus box. Sick yes, check in the negative. Lost, yes, check in the negative. Hallucinating? She glanced at Lilliam. Definite yes, check in the neutral category. There was a shack ahead, that had to be a positive.

"Don't dig so deep." Lilliam said. "It doesn't help."

Astrid shrugged the hallucination off. "Had about enough of you, you're not my daughter."

"Never said I was." Lilliam said.

"Then what are you?"

"A collective representation of your subconscious thought patterns and motivations." Lilliam said. The girl smiled. Astrid blinked.

"What?"

"A fevered hallucination, Ma." Lilliam said. "Tell me a story, something funny."

The Rogue, the drunk, the mother, headed down the beach, the soles of her feet searing on the sand. "Only one I can think of isn't funny...just embarrassing."

Lilliam shrugged. "Embarrassing to you is funny to others."

"Odd way to look at it."

"Got to somehow."

"I was about your age." Astrid said. She locked her eyes on the shack in the distance, one foot in front of the other, covering ground, body pumping toxins, muscles growing slack. "I had to pee, real bad, chugged a whole pitcher of lavender cold tea back in Shadowglen." A strange lurid smile crossed her scared face. Any passing stranger would have screamed at the walking corpse appearance. "My Mom, your nana, was in the washroom. We used to have a small little washroom that attached to the house, you emptied the basin everyday and burned it at night. Anyways-" Astrid coughed blood into her hand. "-she was in there when I had to go. I was pounding on that door screaming I had to go."

Lilliam giggled.

"When you gotta pee you gotta pee. Your Nana screamed something at me and I lost it. Peed myself in hallway, all over the dirt floor, ruined my brand new dress." Astrid shook her head. "Your Nana was so angry at me. I don't think I've had lavender tea since then."

"Keep stepping." Lilliam said.

Astrid remembered death behind her, its cold white hands ready to grab her. His hands might be cold, but her burned on the inside. She was suddenly sure of that. A moan escaped her when she looked up at the shack again. It looked farther than it had before. Farther than it had a second ago, how was that possible?

"No one said that was real either." Lilliam said.

Astrid dry sobbed. Her left arm woke again making itself known. Dropping into the sand she leaned back. The sun hung like a bloated child's ball low in the sky. She must have walked for the better part of the day. Her eyes closed.

Turn your head so you don't choke on your own blood, she thought.

She turned her head. Sleep came, and when it did she dreamed of tea and pee, pee and tea and something about a little girl that she barely remembered.

-5-

Winkin' trailed down the beach shore picking up the debris that had washed from the harbor, her small gnome frame grappled with a massive piece of piling and then managed to drag it to shore. For the last week she'd been excavating all sorts of treasures along the beach with Nodd, not that he was in a mood to go searching. She'd had to pry that old bastard from his chair back home to go searching. Blinkin' just flat out refused which put a dagger of mistrust in Winkin'. The little girl had always listened to her Mother, up until this year, and then all the backtalk had started.

The gnome stopped, eyes narrowing. Along the shoreline a tall stretched out piece of wood had just moved. No...not moved, moaned. Winkin' took a step forward, hand gliding to the small dagger on her brown leather belt. What she found wasn't piling or metal, jarred goods or floating bails of wheat. It was an elf, a bad off elf. The woman's left arm was shot, due to be sawed off. A thick scar ran over the elf's left eye, virtually her entire body was a tell tale sign of battles and wounds, each probably had a different story.

From behind her she heard her deadbeat husband grunt. "Whats you got?"

"Nodd! It's a bigg'un." Winkin' said. "Elfie."

"We can't use that Winkin'." Nodd said.

"I know that!" Winkin' shouted. At times she wondered why she'd married her grumpy old husband in the first place. "We can't leave her here."

"Damned if we can't." Nodd said. "Just be quiet and leave her."

"Nodd Caspin Egger!" Winkin' snapped. Nodd hated to be called by his full name. The sound of his angry grunt put a smile on her face. She'd won whatever little battle they were both in, of that she was sure.

"Woman's going to end me." She heard Nodd say.

"Shush yourself and grabs some footies." Winkin' said. "She's almost dead as is."

The two gnomes collected to what amounted as one very battered night elf. Astrid would have smiled if she were conscious.

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
SEVENTH MOVEMENT: Terminal Overdrive
By: Fallon H. Quinn

Authors Notes: Merry Christmas and I hope all of you have a happy New Year, thought I'd drop a three quick bombs and call it a night for the next week or so, maybe less. Enjoy.

-6-

Astrid woke to the dim flicker of candlelight painting shadows on a thatch roof. Her head felt clouded and packed with cotton. She was on some sort of table. Everything looked out of proportion, like she'd grown during her sleep. The chairs could have barely held Lilliam in them.

I should be panicked right about now, she thought.

She should have been but no emotion surfaced. Just the calm fever baking away at her brain. The arm was worse. The network of black veins tangled into an angry looking knot somewhere just above her elbow. Everything below that felt cold and rigid.

"You're awake." A voice said.

Astrid looked around the room and saw no one. The hallucinations must have been in full swing for her to-

"Lower." The voice said.

"Huh?" Astrid panned her head to the left. A small gnome woman draped in a bright green shirt and brown slacks stood in front of a small fireplace, a pot of water boiling.

"Where am I?"

"Our home." The gnome said. "Who're you?"

"Astrid."

"Name's Winkin', Nodd be my husband, Blinkin' our daughter."

"My arm..." Astrid started.

"Need's to come off." The gnome said. "Blood poisoning, must have spent some time out there on the beach."

You have no idea, Astrid thought.

"Thought you were wreckage when I first laid eyes on ya." Winkin' said. The woman turned towards the boiling water. Astrid heard the clink of metallic objects but couldn't place it to anything.

"Where are we?"

"Far north of the Harbor, bad country." Winkin' said. "We were scrounging whatever the sea brought from The Harbor."

"What happened?"

"Gone, up in flames for a week at least." Winkin' said.

Astrid felt a dull polished stone of rage turn over in her chest. She raised her left arm, ignoring the fire that ran down to her chest. "This, now."

Winkin' didn't turn from the boiling pot of water. "We got no pain-takers...healing herbs, yeah...no pain-takers."

"Whiskey?"

"Plenty 'o that."

"Get me a bottle." Astrid said.

-7-

The Rogue chugged the first half of the bottle in massive gulps. A mini-volcano erupted in her stomach. A dry heave tried to form but she repressed it. Thirty minutes later her pain was muted and thriving beneath a distilled mask. Her eyes rolled like lost marbles in their sockets. Winkin' strapped down both wrists and legs with thick bands of leather. One went across her chest just below her breasts. Another wrapped around her forehead.

"Mind your tongue...don't want to gag ya...gagging is serious business...you vomit with a gag you die, so watch the tongue, Missus." Winkin' said. From a hallway Astrid couldn't see she heard a low grunt.

"Nodd you get your withered loins in the kitchen!" Winkin' yelled.

A burly looking gnome appeared, heavy stubble lining the formed jaw. His two steel colored eyes regarded Astrid. "Lot o' scars."

Well this'll be a little more than a scar, Astrid thought. She suppressed the manic laughter that tried to escape.

You won't be laughing after this, Aramin said.

"No I suppose not." Astrid said aloud.

"Say again?" Winkin' said.

"Nothing, do it."

From the boiling pot of water Winkin' extracted a long serrated blade, the handle a worn bit of hide bound by twine of some sort. Astrid turned her eyes away from it. Tears welled at her eyes. The whiskey seemed to cut through the fever, amplify everything in the room ten fold. She could smell the scent of spent tobacco and the jasmine used to hide it. The imperfections of the wood table scratched against her back. Her breasts felt hot and achy.

No more need for inventory, got this one pegged.

Nodd took the steaming blade from his wife and went to Astrid. He propped one knee between her arm and torso. "Where?"

"Socket." Astrid muttered. "Shoulder socket."

"Hard wound to close." He said. His steel eyes ran over her.

Astrid twitched her ears. "Through rod in the fire, sear the wound shut."

"You sure?"

"It's safer." Astrid slurred. "If the infection's moved higher and hasn't shown yet I'll die. This is the only way."

"Jus do it, Nodd." Winkin' said. The little woman was back by the fire.

Astrid felt like a giant in the gnome's home. Her body strapped down it all seemed so...so...

So ****ing stupid.

The blade touched her shoulder. At first there was just a dull warmth and then the saw of knife tore at flesh. Astrid screamed, eyes bulging. She vomited sideways over the table. A rancid warmth ran down her left side.

"GODS WOMAN GET ME A CLOTH!" Nodd shouted.

More flesh tore free. It was nothing like an arrow shot or being stabbed. Astrid had felt both and those were bearable. This was something far beyond those types of pains. The blade cut through ligament and muscle, sheared bone. Air hit places it was never meant to touch. Astrid writhed on the table, bits of foam flying form her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Artemis curled up in the corner, on long cigar hanging out of his long mouth.

"Get out! GET OUT!" Astrid screamed. The aardvark vanished.

"Holds yourself." Nodd said. The gnome seemed to be pumping something. Astrid felt her left arm held to her body by only strings of tissue.

Too much blood, she thought. I'm losing too much.

Something gave way, wether it was bone or sinew Astrid didn't know, and then a funny emptiness filtered into her nerves. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something fly away from the table and realized it for what it was.

My arm...that's my arm.

WAS your arm, Perion giggled.

Astrid fainted.

-8-

The peach trees were sprouting strange bits of purplish colored fruit. Astrid gets to her feet and stumbles over a brown overgrown root. Both her arms work, none of them were chopped off. None of them were-

****, I'm dreaming.

-9-

They came in contact with the first crusaders headed towards The Harbor two days later. Perion was at the rear of the caravan when she heard the stamping of horse hooves. Sooner was beside her. They'd stopped twice to bandage the girls feet before letting her ride on a sprung saddle of one of the few remaining horses. Men and women drifted back and forth in confusion.

The calvary had come. Far too late, but Perion didn't care. She flagged down the nearest officer. A tall human in broad flashy armor. He reared his horse and glared down at her.

"What's the word from Ironforge?" She asked.

The man stared off towards The Harbor. "Bad."

"What's bad?"

"Evacuating citizens through the Tram to Stormwind. I suggest you head that way as well." The man said. "Horde dropped through from the Harbor, took over our ports."

"Nooooo." Perion shook her head. "We came from there."

The man stirred in his saddle. "I thought everyone was dead."

"Nope...where do you think we all came from?"

"What were their forces?" The man contorted his face into a grimace.

Not a scar on you...bad sign, she thought.

"Thousand at least." Perion said. She felt the parchment in her tunic and then decided to hang onto it. Someone smarter needed to see it. Whoever the man was he looked greener than a tree during mid-summer. "Specialties all over the board...they were planning this one for awhile."

The man grunted and fell back into formation with the crusade line. Perion ducked back into her own group mingling with the people. She found Sooner sitting on the saddle upright. Perion hopped on, weapons in place.

"What are we doing?" Sooner asked. The little girls arms wrapped around her waist.

"Going to Ironforge." Perion said. "Got a fence there I need to see."

"What's a fence?" Sooner asked.

"Black market dealer." With that she kicked the horse and trotted out past the caravan using the shoulder to pull ahead. Over her shoulder she said. "Hate to do this to you kid but you're coming along."

Sooner said nothing.

"Silence gives consent."

TBC...

[rottentomato]

still loving this story...cant wait for the rest...you should really consider getting it published and sending it to blizzard. id pay to read this stuff

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
Eighth Movement: A Hand We Can't See
By: Fallon Quinn
nicoarmitage@yahoo.com

Authors Notes: Every time I go back to do the next part of this story it gets harder to find the right keys to fit the locks, and I'm noticing more and more that what's behind the door is a dark thing. This will not be a happily ever after, but if the keys keep fitting the locks I'll do the best I can. Have a happy New Year.

-1-

Something dark and nasty filled her mouth. Astrid coughed, fought the small fingers pulling at her tongue. They were dead fingers, dead flesh reanimated, never meant to walk the surface again.

"You gots to take the medicine, woman." A voice said. "For the love o' the gods, yawn ***** is feisty."

They're dead fingers, Astrid thought. Dead, dead, dead-

"Nodd, hands, I need ya fingers."

"Let 'er die. She won't take the herbs." A gruff voice said.

Why can't I see?

"I swear by the holy saints of Ironforge I'll have your head so far up your hind you'll be able to eat dinner twice if you don't help me."

The fingers jammed in her mouth again. Another set of hands held her nostrils shut. The air, she needed air.

I don't want to swallow it.

Bitter taste coursed over her tongue and then the small hands pushed her jaws shut. Astrid tried to scream. The lumpy mass of bitter moved down her throat until she swallowed it. At some point she started to cry.

"Woman should be dead." The man said.

"Strong." The woman countered. "Strong or damned...don't matter which. Fetch the presses."

"Fetch this, fetch that, always something with ya." The man grumbled.

Astrid heard footsteps and then a door closed. She tried to move her arms and found she couldn't...but that wasn't quite right. She could move one of them. Her left arm though, that one felt dead.

Probably hit a nerve or something, she thought.

"Girlie, you best wake soon or you won't wake at all." The woman said.

Astrid's stomach quivered and then a warm feeling spread over her. A soft pair of hands ran across her forehead.

"Nodd, grab a pan, she wet the sheets again."

-2-

They rode through the night, through unmarked roads and up slopes of snow. Perion felt her stomach twist when they finally stopped. The citadel of Ironforge was a dead-house. No guards were posted at the main gates, one giant door was even ajar. Sooner poked her head around Perion's shoulder.

"Looks empty." The girl said.

"I think it is."

Perion nudged the horse forward in a slow prance. She pulled the musket from its leather binding and held it to one side. A crisp breeze blew a haze of white in front of them. The horse whinnied. Perion narrowed her eyes, the brim of her hat pivoted up with the gust.

"Looks empty." Sooner said again.

"Shush." Perion whispered. They approached the massive doors. Perion dismounted and then looked up at the girl. "Stay here, if I'm not back by the time the sun goes down, ride back towards the others." She peeled off a layer of clothing and passed it over to the girl. "Keep warm."

Sooner's eyes went wide. "Don't leave me."

"Just for a bit." Perion said.

"Please."

Perion turned her back and walked through the gate into pitch blackness. That was bad. Even the great forge was at rest. Something about that spoke volumes to anything else she could have possibly imagined. The fact the forge was dead meant they'd abandon a major city. A HUB of communication and commerce.

This is serious business, she thought.

Not more than two weeks ago she'd been near the auction house and the place had been in full tilt. Her nerves tuned up a notch, ears perked to any noise. The sounds of rats scampering in open halls carried weight.

"Hello?" The word echoed off the walls, through tunnels, down into the forge till it sounded like a monstrous growl from a creature above. Perion shivered. Her feet guided her over one of the bridges towards the main forge. The Elf darted into a narrow hall and stopped at the circular center of Ironforge. The presses were dead, no metal poured or pounded. A dull flat odor of copper filled the air along with ancient smoke and smelting tools.

I'm in a grave. A big, empty grave.

The musket tumbled to the floor. She dropped to her knees, hands planted onto the cold stone floor. Air came into her lungs in ragged chops. It wasn't until she saw the wet spots on the stone that she realized she was crying.

I don't think I can stop. I'm just going to keep on crying till something in me breaks and then what do I do? What do I do when that something snaps?

Astrid's voice came to her clear as daylight: Get up, maggot.

I can't.

Get up, or I'll smash your face in again.

Perion leaned back against the wall, her chest an empty cavity of hollowed feelings. She stared at the massive dead forge. It made part of her stir. Something inside went crooked. It occurred to her she couldn't remember the last time she'd really been happy. There were moments of enjoyment, but happiness was an emotion she spent most of her life on unfriendly terms with. The Rogue got to her feet. She picked up the musket and holstered it on her back. She left the main forge and headed to the bank. The empty space there made her feel like a stranger in a place that'd been home no more than two weeks ago. It felt like walking in your childhood home twenty years after you left it. Everything looked the same but it was different.

She went to the tellers window and slid through the arched opening where someone should have been. Most of the deposit boxes were open, ripped from the wall. They looked like tiny coffins to her. Once upon a time she'd seen a mass grave of gnomes. During the last crusade a horde army had stormed a small gnome village. Killed everyone and then dumped the bodies in a shallow reservoir. Perion stumbled onto the village along with the rest of her squad some two days after, just long enough for the small bodies to bloat and raise to the surface. Hundreds of tiny bodies just floating like minature sausages in the reservoir. It'd taken years to forget that sit, the empty deposit boxes reminded her of it though.

LIttle coffins for little people, she thought.

"I can't-"

Perion spun, musket drawn, reflexes sharper than ever. Her finger never hesitated on the trigger. The explosion of gunpowder, small outside, amplified in the closed quarters to an earshattering pitch. Her aim was true. The brilliant spearhead of fire from the muzzle of the musket clarified everything. Perion had a split second of utter horror that would stay with her till her death. In that moment of light she saw the situation as it unfolded with crystal clarity. The second imprinted in her brain through millions of synapses.

Sooner jerked backwards as the lead slug tore into her stomach. The little girl hit the tellers booth like a bag of lead bars. Perion saw the ragged apple sized hole in the burgundy jacket Sooner had wrapped around her. The Rogue screamed. Her legs moved forward, her mind detaching with each step.

"I told you, I told you to stay outside!" Perion screamed. She dropped to her knees at Sooner's side.

The girl's eyes were wide, pupils dilated, mouth a giant 'O' of surprise. Her two small hands came to her stomach. Crimson stained the floor in a growing pool.

"I couldn't...stay outside." Sooner said. Her face started to go slack.

"No! Not like this! Don't ****ing do this to me!" Perion screamed. She pulled the girl from the wall, stripping the jacket in the process. The entry wound was huge, but the exit was worse. It looked like someone had pushed a basketball through the girls back.

Well that's easy, Astrid whispered, you did.

Perion pressed on the stomach wound with both hands. "Honey, you're fine. Stay with me...you're fine."

Sooner reached up and touched Perion's elbow. A fog covered the girls eyes. Red stained Perion's knees. Flash images of the floating gnomes in the reservoir danced in front of her.

"Don't do this....don't do this." Perion sheared a piece of gauze wrap from her arm and padded the wound. She pumped the girls chest with both hands. Lips met lips, lungs exchanged air. She pumped again. More gauze went onto the gunshot. The silence of Ironforge, the darkness of the place settled around them.

It took Perion two hours to realize the girl was dead.

-3-

Astrid blinked and sat up. Sunlight filtered through a small paned window to her left. Her feet hung over the edge of the bed by a good two feet. Things felt clear for once. It wasn't till she looked to her left that things came rushing back. Her left shoulder was a mess of gauze and dried blood...that and no left arm.

Oh Gods, what did I do?

The little room was adorned with scribbled parchment pictures that looked a lot like Lilliam's drawings. Her stomach muscles gave after a minute. Astrid lay back down to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. Her hand roved to the stump that used to be connected to a limb.

This'll take some getting used to, she thought. So much for the bow.

For the first time in a long time she felt hungry. Her ribcage looked like a washboard. The first attempt to get off the bed didn't work. Astrid rolled on her right side and propped herself up. Most of her muscles refused to work. It took half an hour to coax them into a temporary partnership. She stood, stumbled and collided with the wall.

"So much for grace." She whispered.

The door to the room opened. Winkin' stood there, hands locked at her hips. "You woke."

The Rogue nodded.

"Figured ya might." Winkin' said.

"How long have I been out?"

"Not too long." Winkin' said. "Night was bad, fever broke after you took yer medicine. ***** it was to get you to do it. Had old Nodd clamped you up nice and proper."

"Good to know." Astrid said, a strained smile plastering itself on her face. "Got any food in this palace of yours?"

"Watch the mouth, Missus." Winkin' said. "We did YOU the favor. Nodd 'id left you on that beach if I 'adn't made him drag you home."

Astrid leaned against the wall. A phantom flicker of nerves ran down the left arm that she no longer operated. She knew the stories. People that woke up and had to scratch the big toe they had cut off years ago. Appendages that followed you like ghosts.

She glanced down at her foot, the missing toes were still missing.

Guess you're not growing back, she thought. I'm looking good all around.

"Arm seared up nice and neat." Winkin' said. "Rod did the trick. Heat seared it shut."

Astrid slumped and then straightened herself. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"Well you won't be playing no mandolin anytime soon." Winkin' said. The woman smiled. "I'll fetch some grub, rest some more. Nodd has a gift for you."

"Gift?"

"Aye...old bastard tinkers with guns in his old age. Told 'em to stop, got chilluns now, can't be having that in the house, but what does a man listen to?"

Astrid shrugged.

"Exactly...nothing unless it's food or time for bumping in the sack." Winkin' said. The woman shook her head. "Lay yourself out, sleep it out. The pain'll start today."

Sounds peachy ****ing keen, Astrid thought.

TBC...

[rottentomato]

more more more! hurry hurry hurry..this is making me not want to read anything else until i see the rest!

[Katarinea]

Oh wow....this is absolutely stunning. The depth of the emotions and the realistic writing has me in awe, and your subject matter, while gristly, is still beautiful in the way you write it.

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
NINTH MOVEMENT: I Lost A Friend Somewhere Along The Line
By: Fallon Quinn
nicoarmitage@yahoo.com

Authors Notes: We've reached one of the main turning points now. Time to let some cats out of the bag so to speak. Enjoy.

-1-

Perion looked at the grave. Wind slapped her, punched the side of her head and chest. It took three hours to dig a deep enough hole in the snow to put the little girl inside. Tears had frozen over her cheeks chaffing the flesh there raw. In the end the body didn't look like the person. Sooner's face became a shadow. While she was digging the voices had started. A first just phantom whispers, incoherent sentences that she couldn't piece together. They grew when she slipped the girl in the soil. She'd wrapped the small body in the burgundy jacket.

A sick knot lodged itself in her stomach. Perion jammed a long steel rod into the ground at the girls grave. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flicker of movement. She glanced over her shoulder to see the open gates of Ironforge but nothing else. The wind shrieked.

Don't lose it now, she thought.

Why? A UFO voice asked.

Perion took her hat off and tacked it to the steel pole. She sat at the mound of snow for some time. Her hands were stained red and black, blood and soil. Nothing seemed to matter. The horse had run off somewhere.

I killed her, Perion thought.

"You didn't kill her." A voice said.

Perion turned, dagger free from her side, wisps of bluish light running down the length of the black blade. Sooner waved at her from the main road. Perion blinked.

I buried you, she thought. I put you in the ground.

"You didn't kill me." Sooner said. The girl smiled. "But you know who did."

"Astrid..." Perion whispered.

Sooner nodded. "What's she been doing this whole time?"

Perion sheathed the dagger. Strands of hair blew over her face. The wind didn't seem to effect Sooner, she had on a small dirty slip that didn't move with the wind, and the cold didn't seem to bother the girl either.

"Nothing." Perion said. "She hasn't done ****."

"Who put you in this position?" Sooner asked. The girl paced back and forth, one hand planted on her chin. "You call her a friend?"

"She-we...I don't know."

"Well it sounds like she only calls on you when she needs you." Sooner said. The little girl squatted, elbows on knees. "Kinda messed up isn't it? One sided."

That was true. Before this whole mess she hadn't spoke to Astrid in years. And then the letter. The dead express letter came and Little Miss ***** needed her help. It was always something, wasn't it? What kind of a friend made you shot an innocent little girl?

"Someone who's not a friend at all." Sooner said.

Perion glanced over to the empty road. Sooner was gone. The sound of horse hooves came up from the road. The rest of the caravan came into sight. Tremors ran through Perion's hands. Her hair streamed through the wind. One booted foot cut through the snow.

Save the people. What kind of ridiculous idea was that? Her teeth ground together, a twitch forming at the corner of her mouth. Off in the distance she could see a villager from Menethil raising a hand in the air waving.

They did this to you, Sooner whispered. Not just her, all of them. You were happy before, minding your business weren't you?

"Yeah..." Perion muttered. She let a gust of wind turn her into a phantom. A dark flower bloomed in her chest. Her feet guided her down the side of the road, cloaked in a shadow of her own creation.

"She was just up there." Someone in the caravan said.

I was, but not anymore, Perion thought.

Tears spilled onto her trembling hands. Perion waited till the caravan had moved into striking distance. No...not the caravan, the cattle. That's what they were. Cattle a bastard friend pawned off on her.

And then made you kill, Sooner said.

Her scream was muted when she fired the musket. A tall man riding one of the last remaining horses jerked backwards on the saddle. A crater appeared in his chest, crimson running down the front of his shirt. Perion screamed again. She threw a small exploding satchel onto the ground and disappeared. The villagers scrambled.

Don't do this, Astrid whispered.

"GET AWAY!" Perion screamed at the ghost voice. Her daggers caught flesh, she preened through the caravan like a wolf in the middle of a chicken coup. Women, men, children. An arrow pierced the arm and blasted into her knee. Perion shrunk back into the shadows again.

The slaughter didn't last long.

-2-

Astrid woke for a fevered dream of blood and steel. She stared at the empty ceiling her one arm trembling. Something horrible had happened. Something horrible involving Perion, just what it was Astrid couldn't say. Struggling she managed to get into a sitting position. Aramin stood in the corner, his face was no longer a face. Just a patchwork of bones. The flesh ended at his lower jawbone.

Astrid blinked.

"Too late." He said.

"Too late for what?"

"Your friends almost gone." Aramin said. "Think of me like a timer." He raised one bone hand, the tattered brown sleeve of his shirt revealed rotten tissue wrapped around his forearm, all of it eaten away. "What do you think all of this has been about?"

Anger, a fresh boiled pot of it, turned over in her chest. Astrid launched herself from the bed, fist flying. Aramin caught it, his bone hand cinching around her wrist.

"Never fails. We keep telling you and telling you and you never listen." Aramin said.

Hallucinations can't fight back, Astrid thought. They CAN'T.

Astrid pulled away, the feeling of bone on her skin sickening. She curled back towards the bed. "Go away." She whimpered.

"There's only so many times you can set a person on fire before they stay that way...blazing." Aramin said. He lowered his skull, the black sockets of his eyes deep as mine shafts. "The Gulch...you have to get back there. That's where your friend is heading...she's on a bad path. Slipped on to it somewhere along the line."

"Not true." Astrid said. The rage was gone. She could hardly feel anything.

"Do you know what the Tower represents?" Aramin said. "In the old world, the place before this one it was part of a deck of cards. They said those cards could read the future. The Tower was the symbol for catastrophic disaster."

Aramin crouched into a squat. "I can't give you all the details...that's how this **** works. It's hardwired into me. Even if I KNEW and COULD tell you it'd come out as a symbol. It's the same with Artemis."

The Aardvark appeared in the other corner of the room, a large punch bowl in the creatures lap. It smiled, lips drawing away from razor sharp teeth.

"So who the **** is he?" Astrid spat.

"Toma." Aramin said. "What's left of him. Toma might be trapped in a wolf's body but he can still project himself."

"No..."

"'Fraid so." Artemis said.

"Oliver?"

The aardvark nodded. "This was the only way I could talk to you. You wouldn't believe what a ***** it is to try and talk with a ghostpaw's mouth."

"Where are you?" Astrid asked. She sat on the edge of the bed, the aardvark to her back.

"Back at the beach." Artemis/Oliver/Toma said. "Who do you think saved your ass back at the harbor?"

"I can't remember." Astrid said.

"Do you want to?"

The Rogue nodded.

"Click your heels together three times and think of home." Aramin said.

"What?"

"Nothing."

-3-

The fist woke her from the spell. Not a pleasant opening shot. Astrid flew backwards into the wall. Something cracked in her chest, ribs floating or god knew what. Her eyes snapped open. The real world came flashing back into focus. The door to the house wasn't a door anymore, just useless wood shattered on the floor. A red eyed Tauren bared down on her. Astrid crouched low, right hand pulled steel. A crimson flicker ran along the length of her blade. She swung, low, belly level.

The Tauren moved with a deftness Astrid could barely register. He lunged back and swung the blunt end of a pole at her. The contact came at her wrist. The dagger flew to the side of the room, her right hand a ball of throbbing nerves.

Where did I go wrong?

Her legs moved on instinct alone. The pole came out again and crashed against her right shoulder. Something popped out of its place and then snapped back in. Astrid screamed. Her left hand pulled a small rolled bag of powder from her belt. She through the thing across the room. It exploded into a vicious cloud of smoke. The pole came cutting through the sheet of mist again. Astrid dodged low and let the shadows take her away.

She drew her second dagger, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the window propped high near the ceiling. A small sort of thing built for ventilation only. The pole shot out through the smoke. Astrid felt a dull terror spread over her.

I missed my gap in the shadows, she thought. I missed it.

The pole hit open air in wild, mad, panicked shots. Astrid dodged it. Finesse, that was the key. You could finesse yourself out of any situation if you slapped your cards down on the table right. She saw the dim outline of the Tauren in the smoke. She lunged forward, arms outstretched. Her-

Her felt like it was stuck in syrup. Astrid looked down and saw a hideously carved totem in the middle of the floor. Her face went slack. The pole cut through the smoke and smashed her head clean. Astrid flew across the room like a rag doll. Dimly she was aware that one of her pupils was bigger than the other.

Concussion, she thought. ****er gave me a concussion.

Her mind retailed over the list of drawbacks as she stumbled to her feet. Depth perception went out the window. Both her daggers were gone. Her equilibrium was shot. Like a drunk-you are a drunk, she thought-she stumbled forward. From somewhere in the smoke cloud she heard the clack of a pole end hitting the floor. A wave of crimson light rippled out tearing away the screen of camouflage. Astrid fell backwards. Her armor started to melt like a vat of acid had been poured over it. Thick acrid smoke clogged her nose. The Rogue gagged, fingers stripping the buckles that held the breastplate onto her.

The Tauren descended on her. Astrid tore the armor from her body and rolled to the right just as the pole smashed through the floor boards. Splinters of wound cut into her back. The Rogue coughed and managed to stagger to her feet. Her eyes cut to the window near the ceiling. Leaning to the right she ran towards it. Behind her she heard The Tauren bellow something in the language of Horde. Gaining momentum she spun, turning her hip into the kick. One giant fist caught her boot and pulled it off. Astrid rolled backwards letting the boot go. She hit a chair. The wooden thing toppled over. Astrid grabbed it and hiked up to the window on it. Her fist smashed through glass and then she squirmed through the opening. Shards along the sill tore at her stomach. Astrid was halfway out. Cold air ran over her face. The Harbor was on fire.

This has gone all wrong, she thought. Gods, what have I done? Some ****ing hero I am.

Something sharp clamped down on her right foot. Astrid screamed and managed to turn in the window. Glass lacerated her back. She peered down over her stomach and saw her right foot trapped in the Tauren's mouth. Both her arms hit the outside of the house pushing herself from the window. Two of her toes tore away in the Taurens mouth and then she was falling to the ground. The earth punched her back with a fist made of dirt. Astrid coughed blood onto her chin. Dizzy, vision fading she started to run, minus two toes towards the harbor. Half way there she fell and knew she couldn't get up.

Perion get everyone out of her, she thought. Be safe. Gods be safe.

A pair of strong jaws locked around the collar of her shirt. Astrid waited for a blade, musket, pole, or some other weapon to wipe her existence away from Azeroth. Her back and stomach felt like shredded jerky.

This is what a cow would feel like if we butchered them alive, she thought. Anyone want an Elfin T-bone? How about a Rib-eye ala Astrid?

The ground moved beneath her. Whatever had her was dragging her. She moaned. The ground turned to wood and she realized she was being pulled onto the docks. Around her screams and the garbled speech of Horde drifted on the wind. What hit her next was the cold, the cold and the wetness. Astrid blinked arms flailing. She grabbed onto something furry that smelled like dog.

"Toma?"

The ghostpaw barked. Astrid slipped from the ghostpaw and fell deeper into the depths of the water. Looking up she saw the fires shimmering through the the water.

I'm drowning.

A pair of jaws locked onto her left hand. Sharp pain raced down her arm. Astrid coughed into the water. Ascending, she was rising. A fragment of consciousness held on. Astrid pulled herself up to the surface of the water and over Toma's back. The wolf started to paddled. Astrid half watched the harbor engulfed in flames. How long she didn't know. She blacked out a moment later.

-4-

Astrid opened her eyes to the room. Just the empty room, and nothing more. She sat on the edge of the bed staring don at her two missing toes. The dark feeling rubbed her again. Perion was in trouble, she had no left arm, the Harbor destroyed. Lilliam and Terris were Gods knew where by now.

She lowered her head into her hand and cried.

[rottentomato]

hope you got more coming...i had to read this on my vacation and didnt have time to post anything to you

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch
NINTH MOVEMENT: The Black Parade
By: Fallon Quinn

Authors Notes: More of this to come.

-1-

They were watching her, she was sure of it.

Astrid pulled the curtain again and peered out the kitchen window. Thousands of sparrows were perched outside the small home, tucked away in trees, some spread out on the beach line. What spooked her was the silence. The birds gathered with every passing day, sometimes as many as a hundred in one afternoon would flock to add to the mass. A black wave of tiny bodies.

It can't be thousands, she thought. That'd be almost every bird in the region.

Winkin' set down a bowl of soggy oats onto the table. Astrid stared at it. "I can't eat on that thing." She said.

The gnome looked at the table and then remembered. "Right, forgot the arm thing." She said.

The Rogue stared at the kitchen table, the same one she'd been strapped to and then sawn off. The stump of her left arm had healed into a neat mass of scarred tissue over the last month. Strength came back to her in bits and pieces. Sometimes whole chunks of forgotten memories would flood her. Maybe it was the sobriety, maybe not. She glanced out the window again into the ocean of birds.

"Nodd doesn't find this disturbing at all?"

Winkin' looked up from her oats. "Aye...he does." She shoveled a spoonful into her mouth. "Don't speak much of it but he does."

"What about Blinkin'?"

The gnome woman shrugged. "Little'un thinks it's strange, I say." The woman waved her spoon in the air. "They'll scatter."

"I doubt it." Astrid said. "Humans used to think sparrows guided their souls after they died."

"Thought that was crows." Winkin' said.

"No...crows walk with the damned." Astrid said. She turned from the window, pulling the bowl of oats onto her lap, feeling like a giant stuck in a dollhouse. "Crows guide the fallen."

-2-

Perion stirred. She woke from a paper thin slumber to a sky of black. It took her a second to realize what she was seeing. A grimace spread across her pale features. Her cheekbones pushed at the skin that covered them, like renegade bones trying to escape her body. The crows shifted on a hundred different branches, thousands of eyes focused on her. She shivered in the cold.

The birds wanted her to move back towards Menethil, back towards the Harbor. Then across the sea to a place she never wanted to see again. Damp and frigid she rose to her feet. Weight had slipped off her bones over the last month. The emaciated creature standing in the dense wetlands hardly looked like an Elf at all. She'd snuffed the entire group of refugee's she'd brought out from Menethil. She hadn't buried them. No purpose in it.

So what are you doing now?

Perion broke from the forrest cover onto the trail that wound through the wetlands back towards the harbor. The crows glided from one tree to another. Her own black parade marching in front and behind. A clump of hair fell from her head. Perion grunted and then trudged on. She'd lost her boots sometime last week, just how seemed like a mystery at the moment. Blisters and sores hugged the soles of her feet. Another day and they'd be weeping puss by sundown.

"Don't think about them." Sooner said.

The Rogue looked to the left and saw the girl matching her stride. "Where'd you go?"

"Had to make some arrangements for you up ahead." Sooner said. The girl smiled. "Welcoming committee, sort of."

"Oh."

Some things I'll never know, Perion thought.

She marched on through most of the day. The sun tipped at the horizon line when she saw one stray horse caught by a razor-wire of tree branches. The horse looked starved. The horse looked like Perion felt. Its two yellow eyes bulged at the sight of her. A crow cawed somewhere in the black mass above her.

My own personal rain-cloud, Perion thought.

"Awful pessimistic." Sooner said.

Perion stopped close to the horse. The ribs on the creature stuck out like a wire cage. The Elf frowned and then moved forward. Her hands worked quickly and found the tethered knot caught in the branches. The saddle was askew, a bag hanging open. Perion rifled through the gear. She found a small herb in one of the small leather pockets. A flicker of recognition crossed her face. She crushed the herb and dry swallowed it. A bitter metallic taste flooded the back of her throat. Pure artificial energy punched her spine.

"Watch it with that stuff." Sooner said. "You'll kill yourself."

"Big loss there."

"You're all talk."

"Snuffed you, didn't I?"

"Touche." Sooner vanished.

Shouldn't have said that, Perion thought, all alone now.

The horse whinnied. Perion stroke its mane. A clump of gnarled hair came out. The Rogue looked at it and then back at the horse. "You and I aren't so different are we?"

Thin gray lips pulled back from the horses jaws. A few rotten teeth were left, the gapping holes where others had fallen out more visible. Perion flashed a cracked smile of her own. She flung a leg over the beast, its spine visible down to the vertebra.

"We're going on a trip." Perion said. She searched the saddle bags finding more herbs. Her hands crushed them and feed them to the horse.

Trying to get the horse addicted is a bit much, Sooner whispered.

"Shut up." Perion said. She jigged the horse into a trot. Menethil was somewhere up ahead, her welcoming party, all her guests and friends. She smiled through the tears. Overhead the crows circled like a marching band.

-3-

Trying to dress with one arm was a *****. Astrid managed to get into a pair of rough denim pants, that alone smacked a dose of humility back into her. She slipped on a hemmed black long sleeve shirt. One fingerless glove went on her right hand. She wiggled her finger, glad to still have at least five. She pulled the two bright crimson leather boots from under the bed and stuffed her feet into them.

Wonder who had these before me...

On the bed was a leather coat stained to a shade of deep burgundy. Astrid got her one arm in and then flipped the other side over her stump. It hung to just above her knee. Winkin' had taken off the left arm and sewn that side into a series of pockets and kangaroo pouches. Astrid buttoned the jacket closed. The right arm of the jacket cut off just below her elbow in a permanent fold. All in all the getup worked, fit and functioned. Most of the pockets were filled with exploding powders and shot. Nodd's little present to her was a blessing.

Astrid moved to the closet, pushed the door open with one foot and then crouched. On the floor wrapped in oiled cloth was a massive pistol. The curved handle had some sort of polished metal design on it that looked like roses. Six barrels wrapped around the main cylinder. Six shots. Pain the ass to reload, but good enough if you were missing an arm. An extra loaded cylinder lay beside it, the six barrels as large as mine-shafts. Astrid pulled the holster and belt from the closet. It took the better part of an hour to get the belt adjusted right. She should have put that on before the coat.

Going to have to get used to a lot of things, Astrid thought.

A leather thong went around her leg, holding the holster in place. Astrid tied it down and then picked up the pistol. Her gloved hand caressed the handle. Outside a flock of birds made to pass and then swerved back towards the house. Astrid looked up at the ceiling. She had vague fears of the hatch roof collapsing from all the sparrows. Most of them stayed a good distance from the home though, another oddity to add to the list.

How about you being alive, that's an oddity in itself.

She nodded. Slipped the gun into the holster and then fished the dagger from her bedside. It fit onto the low slung belt across her hip. She pulled the long brimmed hat from the bedpost and affixed it to her head, nice and low. Crouching she went through the doorway into the living room. Nodd gave her a once over and then went back to the drawing he had in his lap.

Winkin' stood in the doorway to the kitchen. "Leavin' us?"

"I think so." Astrid said. "I wish I had some way to repay you."

"Never come back." Nodd said.

"Shush yourself, you old bastard." Winkin' snapped. The gnome's gaze settled on her. "I don't know what the birds or the ghostpaw mean."

"Ghostpaw?"

"Just listen, for the Gods of Ironforge." The gnome shook her head. "You and Nodd, what a pair."

"Sorry."

"Should be." Winkin' managed a weak smile. "I don't know nothing 'bout no birds or wolves...but the Gods have a finger on you...dead center in your chest. They're watching you...don't let them down."

Astrid nodded. She stopped at the door to the kitchen and glanced over her shoulder. "You two take care."

"How do you know where you're going?" Winkin' asked.

Astrid opened the door. The sparrows went still. "Think I've got some guides." She said.

-4-

Lilliam watched the white tents come down. They wheeled in a dead dwarf an hour ago. Dawn was just breaking against the horizon. She stood on the cobblestone pathway that lead to the main gates, a dirty sundress clung to her body. It billowed with the tents as a gust of wind passed by.

The wind smelled like bad meat. Things had gone horribly wrong somewhere. She missed her old bed, her old house, her mother. Mamma above the rest. Mamma was somewhere, Lilliam could feel it.

A warm hand came down on her shoulder. "Shouldn't be out here this late."

"It's early." Lilliam said.

Terris looked down at her. "I guess so."

"What are the tents?" Lililam asked.

"A Traveling Clinic...probably a fraud." Terris said. "Most of them are. People go there when they have no where else to turn."

"For what?"

"All sorts of things."

All sorts of things, Lilliam thought.

"That's why it travels."

"Why'd we travel?"

Her Father went silent for a moment. "That's hard to explain."

"Mamma had to fight some monsters right?"

"Something like that." He gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"The wind smells bad."

"What?"

"The wind." Lilliam squeezed her nose shut. "It smells bad."

"What does it smell like?"

"Trouble...and it's in our path."

TBC...

[lunaengima]

Hope to see more of this story =) It's a very good story line! Your writing is very good also, captivating, full of description and emotion. Keep up the good work! You have more people out there reading this then you think!

[fallonquinn]

Dear Readers:

We're actually at the end. There are only two posts left for this story. I've had a great time writing it, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. The last two segments of this story will be divided, The Gulch: DEATH, and The Gulch: REBIRTH. I'll be dropping both at the same time, that or a day apart. Both are rather lengthy. In the mean time I'll be posting a new thread called, The Gulch: Supplemental Runes. Supplemental Runes will be one-shot stories consisting of the characters that appear in Death & Rebirth. I would suggest reading it before peeking at D&R, it'll make more sense, and take some of the 'Deus ex Machina' out of D&R. It's been a blast writing about Astrid, but all stories have to end somewhere, and her tale is just about done. Just a little further down the beach we must go. Thank you for reading and going along on this crazy ride with me, I appreciate it.

Kiss, Kiss. Bang, Bang.
Fallon

[Foonyak]

Advance congratulations on a story very well written. I hope this isn't your last here.

[defensivelineTANK]

i got a question at what point in time from first story does your main char actually put on clothes

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch: DEATH
By: Fallon Quinn

“Save your tears for the day when the pain is far behind. On your feet, come with me, we are soldiers stand or die.”
-Yoko Kanno – Rise

/1/

The man on the beach turned from the boiling water. He scratched his skeletal chest and peered down the beach to the south. In the distance he could see a mass of birds circling something. At one time his eyes had been sharper, but that was before the spiders and the lady in the ocean. A lone figure marched just inside his view.

The woman? The one-armed woman?

He scratched his chest again. How long? How long had he been shored up on the beach waiting for her? Two years? Three? It felt like a lifetime, and all the while, the spiders where sewing little nests in his lungs. He glanced back at the boat. It hardly looked sea worthy anymore.

Domino would know what to do.

She would have, but she wasn’t here. No one was. He was all alone on the beach. Waiting, counting his time till the one armed woman came. So Levine Kef did the only thing he could do at the moment. He sat down on the log next to the fire and waited.

/2/

Astrid walked marched the first day on the beach alone. Toma found her, coming from the forest on the second day, his jaws wet with sap. She glanced at the ghostpaw. It seemed to smile at her.

“That really you Oliver?” She asked.

Toma barked.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Her crimson boots trudged through the white sand. The sun hit high noon beating down on her. From the ocean a renegade crab came half way up in the wake, its claws clicking together. Astrid passed the monstrosity. Something about the crabs gave her the Goosebumps; of all the creatures they looked the most alien to her. Nothing about them suggested any sort of earthly creation.

Toma padded past her. She trailed the ghostpaw, face a calm mask. Overhead the sparrows continued to flock. It was a wonder she hadn’t been **** on yet. She’d heard the splatters every now and then, far ahead, or a few feet behind. There must have been a good thousand birds above her. A black tidal wave of wings and hollow bones.

Hope you guys are taking me to where I need to be.

When dark came she saw the fire in the distance. Toma stalked off into the forest looking for food. Astrid planted herself in the sand, boots facing the tide. A few of the crabs scuttled near the tide line before returning to the sea. Part of her imagined falling asleep and waking to one of those things tearing off her face. Her hand slid to the butt of the massive pistol.

Only if I need you, she thought. Only if I need you.

Her eyes went back to the fire in the distance. Overhead she could still hear the smothering flap of wings. The fire danced. A days walk? Two? Hard to say. She leaned back into the sand, contouring it to her back. Pulling the brim of her hat low over her eyes she felt sleep tickle the back of skull.

Minus two toes and one arm, things aren’t so bad.

She drifted in her slumber. Tangled memories of fallen friends and dead lovers haunted her. At some point in the night she woke and saw the fire gone. Whoever was up ahead he’d turned in for the night. She looked up to the sky and saw a few stars peering through the blanket of birds. The water rushed up towards her and then pulled back.

I was just here not to long ago, she thought.

Tattered sleep found its way back into her. When she woke Toma stood at the foot of the tide line, barking at one of the crabs that’d dared come ashore. Astrid rubbed her eyes and got to her feet. Her jacket blew with the wind like a split tail. The Rogue started down the beach once again, one foot after the other. Around noon she could make out a paper-thin figure in the distance, running from one setup of wood to another. What looked like a boat was parked along the shore.

It had to be a boat. She knew where the birds were leading her. Across the sea, back to her old stomping grounds. Just why still shrouded itself. Menethil was gone, fallen, her friends dead or spread to the far points of Azeroth. The last journey was always alone wasn’t it? Her bones begged her to stop. To turn around and go find Stormwind. Death was up ahead, not the man, but the man would ferry her to Death. Of that she was sure.

What’s your price, ferrymen?

/3/

She came to the small encampment at dusk. What she found was nothing close to what she expected. A man, not even a skeleton of a man, fidgeted in front of a large black iron pot. His eyes were bloodshot, the skin around them browned and jaundice. Every few seconds he’d stop and cough, or start to scratch at chaffed skin with broken nails. Astrid stopped shy of his encampment, ears alert. Toma stood to her side. Her hand went to the butt of her pistol. The camp had a few logs rolled around the fire, a cheap set up of cookware that looked handmade. A battered looking tent was pitched near the forest, a long tear going down the material, patched by shoddy sewing. The boat looked equal in disrepair.

The man glanced up at her, his mouth twitched, his eye following that. A hand came up and scratched his chest. “One arm.” He said.

“Yeah.” Astrid said. She felt herself reaching for the shadows and refused them. No…no shadows.

“It still itch?” He asked.

Astrid nodded.

The man smiled, black rotten teeth glowing in the dying light of the sun. “Sucks.”

“You have no idea.” Astrid said.

“Name’s Levine…Levine Kef.” The man looked out to the ocean. “Lady in the water said you’d come.”

“Who?”

“Going to take the spiders out of my lungs.” Levine said. He looked back at her and then down at the fire. “Have to take you somewhere though.”

“Right.” Astrid eased her grip on the pistol. The sparrows above seemed calm enough. “How long have you been out here, Levine?” She made a point to say the mans name. His head bobbed up when he heard it.

“What?”

He’s crazy, she thought. For a long time now.

“How long have you been here?” She repeated.

“Uh…” Levine started to scratch his ribcage again. A few old sores broke open spilling a clear liquid down his sides. “Long time. Couple years I think…maybe more. The spiders…they, uh…” He smiled again, eyes dancing around in their sockets. “…they started to hatch when I ran out of the poison.”

“What spiders, Levine?” Astrid asked.

“Spiders in my lungs.” He glared at her like she should have known. “Lady in the ocean is going to take them out once I get you to where you’re going. Didn’t tell Levine where, no she didn’t.”

And low, the idiot is crowned king among Feebs, she thought. Guess that’s me. Not like I’ve been winning many awards of late.

“So…where are we going?” Levine asked. He coughed into a balled fist.

“Across the ocean.” Astrid said. She looked up at the shadows above her. “They’ll take us.” She pointed towards the sky.

“Lady said you’d have some sparrows.”

“Who’s this lady, Levine?”

“Huh?”

“What lady are you talking about?”

“Oh.” He scratched his forehead. “The lady in the ocean…I told you that. Levine told you that.”

“Yeah…you did.” Astrid squatted. Her knees popped. Levine jumped almost a mile into the air. The old man rubbed at his frayed stubble jaw line.

“Spiders.” He muttered.

Astrid said nothing.

This is can’t be my ride.

What? Aramin whispered. You thought you’d roll out of here in style? Crazy guy not good enough?

Toma yawned and then lay on his paws.

/4/

Perion tied her starved horse to a tree and soothed it with an armful of smack. Its yellow eyes rolled to her and then drawn in the thin flesh of its eyelids. A broken grin stretched itself across her face. She turned in the brush and took a deep breath. Her hand came out and parted the shrubbery. What she saw stopped her cold. Fifty yards down from the hill she was on the Alliance forces were spread in a tight regiment. A gap of deserted space lay between them and The Horde. The side of her mouth twitched. She ground her teeth together and tasted dust enamel. She narrowed her gaze, eyes cutting to slits.

Shadowed figures stretched in the gap, each of them locked in a tight chess match with someone else. She viewed the battlefield in awe. Rogues stood like ghosts in the abandon no-man’s land, all of them plotting two steps ahead of their counterparts and failing.

“Deadlock.” She whispered.

Behind her the horse grunted something through a phlegm throat.

“What are they doing?” Sooner asked. The girl appeared next to her, the dirty slip a ratty brown color, a faded crimson stain radiating from the chest.

“Nothing.” Perion said. Her eyes drifted towards Menethil, past the Horde front lines. “The Rogues take that gap of space in the middle. It’s sort of like a chess game, only with people. The Rogues are like invisible pawns, they’re waiting for whatever target they chose to break cover.”

“They can see each other?” Sooner asked.

Perion stuffed a finger in her mouth and chewed at the frayed nail there. “Yeah…you can too. Tilt your head back…turn it a little to the side so you’re looking out of the corner of your eye.”

“Something’s shimmering…”

“That’s their aura.” Perion said. She withdrew her hand from the bushes letting them fall back into place. “That’s how you tell if a Rogue’s around you.” A coppery taste flooded her mouth. Perion blinked and pulled her finger from her mouth. A crescent of blood filled the bed where her fingernail should have been.

“Weird.” Sooner muttered.

Perion darted a glance towards the girl. “We have to get to the Horde.” She heard herself say. Crows flew overhead, hundreds more settled in the branches of the trees around her.

“Good…you’re understanding.” Sooner said.

Perion felt a strange sort of laughter fill her chest. She covered her mouth. The skin around her lips felt too thin, she could feel her teeth loose in their sockets.

I don’t understand much of anything, anymore, she thought.

“How far?” Perion asked.

Sooner raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“How far around do we have to go?”

“And you think I know? Putting a little too much dependability on a hallucination aren’t you?”

Perion rubbed her face. “Right…right.” She gathered her horse and started to the North. The lines had to end somewhere, and when she snuck around there was a brand new problem. The Horde might stamp her out before she even got a chance to try and explain why she came.

Why did you come? Astrid asked.

“You be quiet.” Perion whispered. The horse let out a guttural burp that reeked of ammonia. “I don’t want to hear anything coming out of that hole of yours.”

She steered the horse deeper into the forest. Overhead the crows flocked like a funeral procession. In all cases that was right wasn’t it? She could hear the voices, thousands of guttural clicking that detonated speech from a center she would never understand. Starved, angry, and tired she marched the dead horse on towards whatever awaited her. It was a black something. A dark flicker that had already started to consume her. Eaten away at her body and destroyed a large faction of her mind.

Elune, help me, I’ve got nothing left to anchor myself too, she thought.

Elune never answered. Somehow that was the worst of all.

/5/

Case dropped to one knee and looked at the rickety boat they’d managed to rent for the day. She had no intentions of returning it but that **** nut of a warrior was hell-bent on giving a return date. Behind her she could hear the dumbass talking to the townspeople of Theramore.

“I have much experience in the ways of boat craft…craftery?”

“Boating. You mean boating!” Case yelled. She grunted and pulled the main sail down. Her white coat danced with the wind for a moment, tangling along the main rope of the boat. “Pard!”

“Huh?”

“Pardimor! Damn it. I can’t do this by myself!” She shouted.

The Night Elf sheathed his sword and started towards the boat. Case grunted and buried her hands into the sail to keep it from flailing against her small frame. The stench of Theramore was starting to pull at her. She hated fish, she hated the water, and most of all, and she hated boats.

Pardimor grabbed hang rope and tied it to the floor of the boat. “This ship will take us.”

“This ship?” Case grunted and fell back onto one of the wooden benches. She poked at the bloated wood and warped floor. “Pard, this isn’t even a boat. This is like a raft.”

“A fine ship.” The warrior peered out to see.

Case wrung her hands through her hair. “I should have never left The Eastern Kingdoms.” She muttered. “This is ridiculous. You know that right?”

“I know what I know.” Pardimor said. “Came to me.”

“When?” Case shouted. The children behind them scattered like confetti thrown into the wind.

“When I was asleep.” Pardimor said.

“Asleep?” Case swung her legs out of the boat. “That’s it man. I’m out. “ She turned back towards him, eyes on fire. “By the way, you WEREN’T asleep. I had to knock you out with last of my dope cause YOUR crazy ass couldn’t keep it together.”

“You don’t need it.” Pardimor said. His head never wavered from the ocean.

Don’t need it? This isn’t about the dope you nut.

“You’re dense, man. You’re so dense.” Case said. She stuffed her hands into her coat pockets, bits of parchment and charcoal falling to the ground.

“Hmmm?” Pardimor looked back at her. “What?”

“There’s no door.” Case said. The shimmer of Alcaz Island danced in the distance.

“That’s not what the Sentinels say.” Pardimor said.

“**** the sentinels.” Case got into boat against her better judgment. “Do you even know how to sail?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I’ve been on a boat before.”

Case slapped her forehead. “You got a morbid fear of death?”

“No.”

“Good.” She pushed off the shore using one of the paddles. The little boat sank into the water but managed to stay afloat. Case didn’t’ like how dangerously close to the water line the brim of the boat was. Her end almost fishtailed out of water twice. “Pard, you gotta move into the middle you’re to heavy, the boats going to flip.”

“For shame.” He said.

“Cut the talk.” Case said. She grabbed on of the ropes and turned the sail towards Alcaz Island. “By the way, this is a really stupid idea.”

Pardimor waved a hand at her.

“We could drown.” Case said.

“You’re a doctor.”

“I didn’t even graduate.”

“You said you were a week away.”

“I was.”

“Close enough.” Pardimor said.

Case sighed. “Should have never dragged you off that boat.”

“Too late for regrets.” Pardimor said. He hugged the central mast of the boat.

/6/

She was dreaming, but she was also back in The Gulch again.

Ten years had been stripped from her. Her left arm was back.

Only in dreams, she thought.

Astrid stood in the middle of the Gulch, rough grass beneath her booted feet. A loose leather camisole and pants hugged her body. A Tauren, adorn in armor and chains ran past her, obvious to the sight of her. She glanced over towards the smokestack pouring out of the Horde base.

“Been awhile.” She whispered.

“Yes…it has.”

The Rogue turned, the voice already locked in. What she didn’t expect was the sight of the man. Not the skeleton he became, but the actual man, fully restored. Healthy flesh capped his cheekbones, two sparkling eyes fixed on her.

“Aramin…”

He nodded. “Nice look isn’t it?”

“Forgot what you looked like with skin. “ Astrid said. She smiled. A gnome warrior darted between them, a small trail of dust kicking up into the air.

Aramin flashed her a quick full tooth grin. “Odd feeling actually.” Behind him Artemis came up, long body supported on his thick padded knuckles. As he came closer his body transformed into Toma’s, the same streak of black hair running down his left side.

“Oliver.”

“Glad to get rid of that.” Oliver said. The words spilled from the dog’s mouth with perfect fluidity. “Hated that mask.”

Time froze. Astrid actually felt it. A thickening in the air, like the humidity had risen ten points in the space of a second. Astrid looked around and saw two druids rushing down the sloped hill towards the Horde camp, both of them frozen in mid-stride. She lifted her left arm and flexed it into a fist.

“This a last wish sort of thing?” She asked.

“No.” Aramin folded his arms across his chest. “Sort of a here’s how it is.”

“So how is it?”

Aramin shrugged. Oliver laid his paws on the rough ground and squatted. “People die here…you know that. Everyone does. The normal ebb and flow of things is for resurrection to carry them on.”

“Sometimes that doesn’t happen.” Aramin said. “Sometimes people’s souls get stuck in transit while they’re resurrecting. When that happens they’re lost forever. The souls get stuck here, in the ground, in the shelters.”

Oliver wagged his bushy tail. “The Gulch can only hold so many souls before the ground turns rotten. Once…long ago…before the first Emerald Dream was made, two people had to reset this ground. Release the souls of those trapped her. Some souls had to be guided, and some souls were just damned.”

Astrid felt a rush of wind and then saw sparrows pouring out of the mouths that lead into the Alliance base. Thousands of feathered bodies flooded the skies. From the Horde base a flock of crows vomited into the air.

“The birds.” She whispered.

Aramin nodded. “Some to guide…some to damn. Always two sides.”

“You have to reset the ground.” Oliver said. “Your counterpart is on her way here.”

“Counterpart?”

“Perion.” Aramin said. His eyes darted towards the Horde base. “She’s fallen…so very far. Tight rope walking can do that to you. The next time you see her it won’t be as a friend. It’ll be on these killing fields.”

No, no, no, can’t be.

Can too, something whispered in her head. Oh, it can too.

A lump rose in her throat. Astrid tried to swallow it and couldn’t, it was like an apple stuck in her windpipe. “How…how do we reset the fields?”

Oliver vanished. Everyone in The Gulch vanished except for Astrid and Aramin. The two stared at each other for what seemed like a very long time. Astrid felt a warm tear breast over her eye and course down her cheek.

“I think you know.” Aramin said.

“My…my baby.” Astrid said. “What about my baby?”

“She has a Father to lean on.” Aramin said. “Leave it at that. What needs to be done here is more important.”

“Why me?”

Aramin lowered his head, eyes shadowed from her by a flop of hair. He took a few steps back, his legs fading from view. The space around them consuming the black leather pants he wore. “Does it really matter, why, anymore?”

“I suppose not…” Astrid whispered. She touched the space between her breasts, her fist cold and clammy. “I guess it doesn’t at all.”

All of Aramin vanished, all of him but the faded bit of his eyes and teeth. “If you can accept that you’re one step ahead. Remember,” Two bits of white-eye floated in nothing. “First the damned, then the fallen.”

First the damned…then the fallen, she thought. Where do I fit in those two?

“I’ll see you on the fields, sweetheart.” Aramin whispered. The last two drops of his eyes danced off with the wind.

[fallonquinn]

/7/

She woke from the dream. Levine sat across from her, the fire between them. The night sky was thick with sparrows. The old man kept darting a frightened gaze towards the birds, in-between scratches and coughs.

“Don’t you sleep?” Astrid asked.

“Sleep’s a nicety I can’t afford.” Levine said. He was still smiling.

/8/

Patch and Lily stood guard at the monolith, there eyes both perked and alert. The boat they spotted near midnight. Dawn crested and the two figures in the boat were clearly visible. Patch stuck his lance into the ground and pulled back a branch clearing a view port.

“I don’t like this.” He said.

“How many?” Lily asked. She stood behind him, twining her fingers together.

“Two…warrior and something else.” He said. “She looks like a doctor…sort of.”

And who might both of you be? Patch wondered.

He turned back to his sister and squatted on the forest floor. “I’ll take the big one…you take the lady.”

Lily clutched her spear, eyes wide. “Shouldn’t we send up a warning flare?”

“No…for all we know they don’t know we’re here.” Patch said. “Rather not give them a tip of the hand if they don’t know what’s coming.”

“But.”

“You heard the orders as clear as I did.” Patch said. “If anything was here we guard it till reinforcements come.” He found himself staring over Lily’s shoulder towards the black stone pillar.

I don’t know what you are but I don’t like you, he thought. I don’t like you one bit.

It wasn’t so much the pillar as it was the wooden door that stood in the clearing that scared him. The wooden door that had no place existing. He’d seen the inscription and it’d terrified him, even in his dreams he saw the words floating like two banshees.

“You think that’s her?” Lily asked. “The Rogue?”

“I doubt it.” Patch said. “I doubt it very much.”

/9/

Case saw the island and felt her stomach drop. “We’re almost there.” She said. The night had been a long tedious stretch of trying to keep Pardimor upright so he didn’t fall overboard while steering the ship.

An Island, she thought, had to be a ****ing island.

From her jacket she plucked a black pill and dry swallowed it. The downer hit her like a warm pillow. The horizon line seemed to mute itself. The island didn’t feel so frightening. She steered the boat to shore. The stern managed to crash into a sandbar ten feet from the breaking waves. Case grimaced.

Pardimor shook himself awake. “We there?”

“Wake up, dumbass, we’re there.” She flung one leg over the boat and sunk down to her waist. Cold crawled up her legs, through the cloth trousers and doused her stomach in pins and needles. “Elune, ****.”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s cold.” Case said.

Pardimor stripped his armor from his body and held it above his head. The giant elf stepped out into the water, arms raised. Case flattened her hands and started for the island.

Hate to swim, she thought. Hate it, hate it, and hate it.

The sandbar dipped down and then headed towards shore. Case managed to get to knee level and then walked up onto the beach. Grimacing she stripped her pants and coat off setting them on the shore. She turned one boot upside down. A long strand of seaweed poured out.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

Pardimor did the same beside her. Case didn’t notice anything strange till she felt the sharp point digging into the nape of her neck.

“Drop all your weapons.” A woman’s voice said.

Case rolled her eyes. “Pard, buddy…old pal…remind me to thoroughly beat the tar out of you if we survive this.”

/10/

Patch listened to their story half hearted. One ear he kept trained back towards the ghost door. At odd times the door would let out vibrations that rang through the air. The doctor lady had a foul mouth, that and she was high. The warrior seemed to be more of a toss up.

“Who told you about this place?” Lily asked. For someone barely out of adolescence she was holding her own better than when they found the door.

“Everybody chill.” The doctor lady said. “Mind if I put my pants back on?”

Patch considered it and then nodded. Lily fetched the dark trousers from the beach and handed them to the doctor lady. Patch watched her squirm into them.

“Ever hear of a peeping tom?” She asked.

“Shut up.” Patch choked up on the spear, his eyes peeled on the giant elf before him.

“There’s a door here.” The warrior said.

Patch flinched. He felt everyone’s eyes lay on him. “There’s nothing here.” He said.

“Then what are you two doing here?”

“Got lost.”

“Hard to get lost on an island.” The doctor lady said. A smug smile appeared on her face. “You two have a hard time trying to get out of a closet, too?”

“Very funny.”

“I sorta thought so.” The doctor lady said.

“We have business with the door.” The giant elf said. He took a step forward. Patch leveled his spear.

“Easy big fella.” Patch said.

“Patch…maybe they know something.” Lily said.

For the love of Elune, Lilly, Patch thought.

“Lily…nice name.” The doctor lady said. “I’m Case…just Case…old long tall and ugly with me is Pardimor.”

Patch drew back his spear and plunged it into the ground. The doctor lady shrank back. Pardimor didn’t flinch. The elf boy narrowed his eyes. “What do you know about the door?”

“Says, ‘The Rogue’, doesn’t it?” Pardimor asked.

Patch felt his face go soft.

You couldn’t have said that, he thought.

“So it does.”

“That you?” Lily asked. The girl wound a lock of hair around her finger in a nervous wrenching habit.

“No…but I know who it is.” Pardimor said.

“Where is she then?”

“I don’t know.” Pardimor said. “She’s near though. It won’t be long.”

/11/

It took the better of an hour to convince the boy they meant them no harm. Case did most of the talking. The boy still kept his eyes locked on them. The girl seemed to honestly believe their story. Case didn’t really believe it herself. They saw the stone monolith not long after. Pardimor stood at the edge of the clearing, his face distracted. Case had her coat thrown over one shoulder. The parchments were ruined, along with most of the charcoal. Her pills had managed to float out to sea, not there had been many left to begin with.

The stone pillar was nothing impressive. Case noted it was made of some obsidian material that didn’t really reflect light, it seemed to suck the light in. The wooden door was what caught her attention. Hovering a good three inches off the ground was a simple sturdy door made of a deep mahogany. Carved into the surface were two words: THE ROGUE.

That who we’re waiting for? Case wondered.

She ran her through the three-inch gap under the door and felt nothing holding it up. She went around to the backside half expecting the door to lead somewhere. Just a door. A brass knob with no lock was installed n the front side, and absent on the back. Case touched it. The surface of the knob was oily and slick to her finger pads.

“Won’t open.” Patch said.

Case looked at him and then back at the door. She tried to turn the knob. Nothing.

“Told you.”

She pushed the door. Half of her expected it to just fall over. When it didn’t she leaned some weight against it. The door held upright. Case frowned. “Weird.”

“Very.” Lily said.

“Pard what do you think?”

“I don’t think it’s for us to open.” Pardimor said.

“Yeah…caught that.” Case said. She squirmed in her wet pants. The salt was starting to chaff her skin. She gave the door a solid kick. Lily let out a shriek behind her. The boy, Patch, did nothing. The door still stood.

“Don’t do that again.” Patch said. “You’re scarring Lily.”

“So what the hell do we do now?” Case asked.

“Wait.” Pardimor said. “She’ll be here soon.”

Glad you’re so optimistic, really balances this fantastic quartet out, she thought.

/12/

Perion rode straight into the Horde front lines without realizing it. Mostly because they’d broken away allowing her entry. The crows flew to her right and left like an accompaniment of soldiers. Her sunken in eyes darted to the left and right. Taurens and Orcs both stood to either side, forming a sort of twisted wall of faces.

Into the mouth of madness we go, she thought.

The wall made her turn the horse back towards Menethil. An hour later she rode into the main square, up the cobblestone pathway and through the gates. The place looked drastically different. Most of the homes had been torched. The center guardhouse stood in ruin, the stones and bricks torn from the mortar that gave them structure. Black fires danced around the guardhouse. Perion watched the dark flame twist on itself.

Why aren’t I afraid?

The starved horse lead stopped at the docks. Standing there, surrounding by a pack of undead women was a tall man wrapped in black robes. A long staff clutched in his left hand. Perion slid from the saddle, her hands held at the ready.

“Come.” The man said. His mouth looked like a black twisted cavern. “The reset nears.”

“What reset?” Perion asked. “Who are you? Why can I understand you?”

A twisted smile crossed the man’s face. “Because you’re dead.” He tapped his chest. “In here…there’s more than one way to become undead.”

The pack of undead let out a shrill high-pitched chorus of laughter. Perion shrank from it. Her clamped together and started to chatter. She felt a front tooth pull loose and spill from her mouth. A syrup mess of blood went down her throat. Grimacing she brushed her mouth with a gloved hand.

“What is this?”

“You want your vengeance?” The man asked.

Oh yes, Sooner whispered. She does. So much it burns her insides to ash.

“Yes.” Perion heard herself say.

The man tapped his staff on the ground once. The air quieted. Crows cawed above her. Blue light slid from the mans hand, down around the shaft of the staff and then boiled into the ground. Perion watched the soil turn a noxious green color before sprouting black wooden limbs. The limbs twisted up in opposite directions forming a rough circle. The man looked at her through it. He smiled again. Perion caught a flash of his real face, the flesh gone bad.

She whimpered something and then blue light vomited towards her from the wooden circle. It stopped just shy and then whipped back towards the entryway. The surface vibrated and then cleared. Perion saw the interior of the Horde base. For a moment a sense of déjà vu so profound hit her that she struggled to stay on her feet.

Don’t fight it, Sooner whispered. You’ve come too far to fight it.

“She’ll be there?” Perion asked.

Oh yes…they’ll all be there, Sooner said.

Perion balled her hands into fists. The crows plunged from the sky, down through the air and straight through the mirror like reflection housed in the withered wooden arms. The surface bubbled as the column of birds shifted into Horde base. Perion stepped forward. The crows parted around her. Trembling she reached out towards the portal. The surface mask broke and grabbed her. Perion screamed and then the sensation of being ripped inside out cut into her. The wind left her lungs. She struggled against the sensation. Stumbling she pushed through the portal.

The Rogue stumbled out onto the other side into the Horde base. Smoke poured off her clothes in waves like she’d been set aflame. Coughing she stumbled forward, the crows pushed her on. Ten steps ahead she dropped to her knees and vomited on the cold stone floor. Hands planted on the ground she coughed.

Gods help me, I’m lost.

She passed out a moment later amid her own undigested meal.

DEATH: END

[fallonquinn]

A Brief Intermission:

The last song for the night is playing, and the dance floor is breaking up. It's been a strange up and down. I survived a major car accident along the line, lost track of Astrid, and found my way back. Supplemental Runes is over. The story's done. I found the right keys for all of the locks. Without further ado, take the last dance with me, and enjoy.

Fal

[fallonquinn]

The Gulch: REBIRTH
By: Fallon Quinn

“Nobody knows who I really am. I never felt this empty before, and if I ever need someone to come along, who’s gonna comfort me and keep me strong? We are all rowing a boat of fate. The waves keep on coming and we can’t escape, but if we ever get lost on our way, the waves will guide you through another day.”

-Rie Fu – Life Is Like A Boat

\1\

The sparrows rushed out to sea. Astrid watched them from shore. Levine squirreled behind her, pushing the boat out of its entrenchment in the sand. The little wire thin man kept darting his eyes toward her. From her belt she pulled a rolled cigarette and stuck it in the corner of her mouth. She went to the dying fire and pulled out a twig that’d turned to coals. She lit the end and breathed in smoke like a dragon.

“Those’ll kill you.” Levivne said. His smile stretched to the corners of his face.

“Why do you smoke them then?” Astrid asked.

The man scratched his chest. “Helps kill the spiders,” he said. “They can’t breath smoke.”

“Of course…how COULD I have forgotten.” She pulled the brim of her hat low against her eyes and stuck the cigarette into the corner of her mouth.

“When do we leave?” Levine asked. He started to gnaw at the bare existence of his nails.

Astrid peeled off her jacket and gun belt, laid them on the ground and then stripped naked. Her back looked like a shattered web of scars. She went into the ocean, the cold pulling her skin taunt. The Rogue dunked her head underwater and let herself sink to the sandy bottom.

This is the last time I’ll ever be able to do this, she thought. Not so bad.

She swam for the better part of an hour, laps, lounging, it didn’t matter. It felt good to be off the land. For a brief moment she forgot about Aramin, about Oliver, about everything. She remembered the first time she took Lilliam swimming and smiled. They’d been further up the coast of Menethil that day, past the fishing boats and transport wake.

Lilliam watched the boats in desperate awe. She pointed towards one of the vast ships from Auberdine. “That from home?” She asked.

Terris wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Astrid felt the warmth of him against her. “Yeah…that came from home, sweetness.”

The little girl stood near the tide line, small feet turned inwards, big toes touching. Every time the wake raced up the sand she backed up a few paces. Astrid got to her feet, clad in a long cloth shirt. She grabbed Lilliam’s hands and lifted her from the ground. The girl squealed a torrent of laughter.

“In the water.” Astrid said.

“NO!” Lillam shouted. Her feet kicked out into open air.

“Yes.”

“Trid-“ Terris started.

“She’s ready. She’s gotta learn to swim sometime.” Astrid said. She hoisted the girl into her arms and hugged her. “Mamma will go in with you.” Lilliam’s arms wrapped around her neck.

“No.” The girl whispered.

“Come on, pumpkin.” Astrid waded into the ocean. Water raised up to her waist. Lilliam shrieked trying to fight out of the lock Astrid had on her.

“Cold!” Lilliam shouted. A smile spread across her face. “Cold.” She said again.

“See?” Astrid kissed her forehead. “Not so bad is it?”

“Don’t let go.” Lilliam said.

Astrid flicked one of the girl’s long ears. “Never.”

The Rogue broke the surface of the water and peered back to shore. Levine was squatting by the tide line, pants down, hand running between his legs.

“Fantastic….he’s crazy, and a pervert.” Astrid said.

From her vantage point she thought Levine was still smiling. Levine always smiled.

\2\

She dried in the quiet before squirming into her clothes and gear. She gave one last parting look to the forest and then slapped her leg. Toma looked up at her lazily and barked.

“Time to go.” She said.

The ghostpaw ran his head beneath her palm. Astrid felt a dull frown form on her face. “I know how you feel.” She said.

“Gots to go!” Levine rumbled. He ducked around on the small craft, skeletal frame bending and contorting as he ducked under the main sail and rudder. “Storm’s a coming.”

Astrid stepped onto the boat, one arm for balance. “No storm.” She said. “Winds not even bad.”

“No…the storm will come.” Levine twiddled his fingers together. “Take me back out to sea and the lady in the ocean will get all the spiders out.”

Maybe she can fix that faulty brain tissue for you, too. Astrid thought.

She settled herself onto the stern of the boat. Levine pushed them off and the tide brought them out into its body. The old man unfurled a torn, tattered sail and aimed it with the wind towards Kalimdor. Hundreds of sparrows flew above them, and past them ahead, forming a strange sort of single file line that lead to the west. She watched Toma standing back on shore, the ghostpaws fur frayed and disheveled.

I’ll miss you old boy, she thought. Miss you a whole hell of a lot.

“Follow the birds right?” Levine asked.

Astrid nodded. She pulled the pistol from its holster and set it onto her lap. Levine gave it a cursory glance and then concentrated on the sail. His yellow eyes rolled in their flimsy sockets. Periodically he stopped and coughed himself into gagging.

“Where you going?” Levine asked.

“Somewhere I don’t want to be.” Astrid said.

“Then why are you going?”

“I have to.” She said. The sun moved to high noon. Astrid thanked Elune she had her hat. Levine looked like a tanned bit of hid, stringy muscle covered by withered brown flesh.

“Who’s making you?”

“Dead people.” Astrid said. She let the words sink in. They didn’t phase Levine, but they sure as **** phased her. Dead people were guiding her back to The Gulch. For a moment she thought she could feel the thousands of ghosts that must have surrounded her. There wouldn’t be any medals of honor this time. Nothing to gloat over, no simple taking of a flag. Everything about The Gulch was reduced to its most primal form this time around. Fight or die. And really, in the end, they were all going to die. Whether it was by a dagger or trauma, it didn’t matter. Only the dead returned to The Gulch.

How long have I been sleeping through my life? She wondered.

The question struck her as a loaded one. She’d birthed a child into the world. Loved a decent man. Anything beyond that was solely for the bonus points. Her rush into boozing was a stupid attempt at suicide. One that she never took seriously. They rocked with the ocean for most of the afternoon. Sometime around dusk Levine passed her a rolled cigarette. Astrid lit it from a sulphur match in her pocket and smoked it, rolling the dried paper between her fingers.

“So you do this for me and you’re free?”

Levine nodded. “Lady of the ocean will take the spiders out of me.”

“Sounds splendid.” Astrid pushed smoke out of her nose. “Ever think all those bugs are in your head?”

“For awhile.” Levine said. He scratched his boney chest. “I could have sworn one crawled up my nose straight into my brain.”

“No…I mean maybe you’re imagining all of it.” Astrid said. She planted her elbows on her knees. “None of it is real. It’s all just something you made up.”

He looked at her for a long time. “I crap blood.”

“You drink poison.” Astrid said. “That’ll happen. And the coughing up blood, you smoke to much and then inhale that poison crap into your lungs too.”

“I can see them.”

Astrid tapped her brow. “All up here.”

You’re one to give advice, Aramin whispered.

Better me than you, she laughed. Then he’ll really be nuts.

\3\

Perion woke in a dried pool of her own filth. She gagged and rolled over. Her chest felt like it’d been shredded and stuffed with broken bits of glass. Getting to her feet she saw how many birds were packed in the small chamber. Most had scattered through the gates out into The Gulch. What caught her eye was the flagless altar. Where a flag should have been there was nothing but empty space. The walls were a different matter all together. Strips of parchment were pasted against the stone. Perion stumbled to one sheet, kicking a load of crows out of the way.

Congrats on making it! The Record of June sixteenth is as follows:
48 honor kills – Two of them peachy keen.
3 dishonorable kills – Starting early aren’t you?
You’re still doing mediocre, don’t worry about it, you’ll get better.

Perion started at the note and then moved down to the one just below it.

The Record of June 27th:
You did jack**** today. Better luck tomorrow.

She moved back to another column and found a horrific notion building in her. The whole history of her life was written down on the walls. She backtracked along the paper till she found an early date from childhood.

The Record of December tenth is as follows:
Bad girl, you let Kelan Tellmoore see your private parts behind the sycamore outside Astranaar. He didn’t show you his though, he got too scared and ran away. You were freaked the rest of the day that someone would find out and tell on you.

Perion stepped back from the wall. She had never told a soul about that day. She’d been ten years old and Kelan Tellmoore from next door had said he’d show her his if she showed him hers. Just what that meant at the time she didn’t know. She’d heard whispers from the other girls at school what boys looked like down there, but she’d never seen it. So behind the sycamore by the weapons shop she’d shown him.

“My Gods…” She whispered. A crow cawed.

The parchment went all the way to the open ceiling. Everything must have been written there. She checked other dates and found them right, or as close to right as she could recall. Trembling she moved over to the far side by the tunnel run that lead outside. In the second to last column everything was blank except one entry.

Today you killed a little girl and then buried her outside of Ironforge.

Perion dropped to her knees on the floor and leaned against the wall. A few dusty tears trickled down her cheeks. She didn’t kill the girl. If it weren’t for the *****, Astrid, she would have never been put in that position.

“Don’t listen to them.” Sooner said.

Perion looked up, the skin around her eye stretching paper-thin. “Sooner…”

“The walls are ghosts…so are the papers.” Sooner said. “They’ll try to sway you to the other side.”

“The other side of what?” Perion asked.

“The woman is almost on the other side of The Gulch.” Sooner said. She made a short little dance and then wandered over to the walls reading the parchment there. “She’ll be trying to kill you.”

“She won’t have a chance.” Perion said. Her teeth clicked together, fresh blood poured from her tongue.

“No…she won’t. She’s missing an arm.” Sooner said. “Packing shooting iron, she thinks that’s her advantage, but it’s not. There’ll be others as well.”

Perion rolled her hands together. “Others?”

“People that want you to fail.” Sooner said. “Need you to fail. But you won’t let that happen will you?”

“No.” Perion whispered.

“Good girl.” Sooner twirled back facing her. “She has ghosts of her own guiding her. And down here…on the rotten soil, they’ll be given flesh again. Worry not though, you won’t be alone.”

No…Perion thought. I won’t.

Her eyes turned towards the gated entryways. When the gates open the fight would begin. Till then she had this place all to herself. In the darkness of the Horde lair she started to laugh, and it was strange, because she couldn’t seem to stop.

\4\

They rolled through night and straight on till morning. Astrid stayed up most of that first night, part of her mistrusted Levine, part of her was afraid he’d go mad out at sea and tip them over.

Never really thought about swimming long distances with one arm, she thought.

Some hours later Astrid spotted the sparrows circling around an island in the distance, close to the main coastline. “What’s that?”

“Dunno.” Levine mumbled. “Near Theramore.”

\5\

Case felt more disturbed by the birds than she did about the stupid door. The door was just that, a door. Where it went didn’t matter, she could care less. It was the flock of sparrows that chilled her. They came at dawn, a mass of them in some sort of holding pattern above the door. Case watched them from her perch in one of the trees, her jacket laid out across her legs. Pardimor had spent the night staring at the door, she thought old long, tall, and ugly was sure it would open.

No one says it couldn’t, she thought. The twins say it opened before, and someone came through.

Bull****.

“Boat!” Lily shouted.

Case grunted and dropped down from the tree. She pulled her jacket on and found the two twins hanging by a thick crop of brush. Case followed their stares out to sea. A day’s worth of travel away she saw a small boat with a tattered sail hovering on the horizon line. She propped one hand over her brow and looked again. The sparrows flew directly over the boat, forming a long line.

“Weird.” She muttered.

“Maybe it’s her.” Lily said. The girl looked back at the door. “The Rogue.”

“I doubt it.” Patch said.

Case said nothing. She folded her arms under her breasts and sighed. “What does it matter. That door’s not going to budge.”

“Not for us.” Lily said. “It will for her.”

“How do you know?”

The girl shrugged. “Dunno, just do.”

“I’m getting real sick of this ‘I just know’ junk.” Case said. She reached into her pocket to try and scrounge a pill. A second later she remembered what happened. All her junk was out at sea. Grimacing she walked back to Pardimor.

“You got any of that stuff I gave you back on shore?” She asked.

Pardimor handed her two black pills in silence.

Case swallowed them and waited. An hour later everything muted itself. She sat down next to a thick birch tree and stared through the limbs. Hundreds of sparrows had already perched up in the tree.

They must work in shifts, she thought. Like a factory.

By late afternoon the boat looked closer, but it would be the next morning before they shored up to Alcaz. Case didn’t want them to for some reason. A tidal wave could carry them out for all she cared. It was easier to think with the smack in her system. Easier to make rash decisions seem reasonable.

You don’t have to be here, she thought.

An alien voice welled up deep inside her, it sounded like Garvey: Actually…I think you DO have to be here.

Pardimor disappeared with the twins for an hour. When he came back his face had changed, aged lines were etched around his mouth. He strapped his armor on and flung the sword onto his hip.

“What’s up, big boy?”

“It’s her.” Pardimor said. “Astrid.”

Case’s ears perked. “What’d you say?”

“Astrid Erinyes.”

“Oh ****.” Case heard herself say.

“What?” Pardimor squinted at her. “What’s wrong?”

“She arrested me fifteen years ago.” Case said. Her face felt funny, muffled, like someone had wrapped a wad of cotton around her head.

“For what?” Lily asked.

“Forgery.”

Why am I still talking?

“What’d you forge?” Patch stepped forward.

“A medical parishioner’s license.”

[rottentomato]

so wait...thats it? thats how it ends?! AHHHHH!!!!

[fallonquinn]

Nope, second half is coming tonight.

[rottentomato]

i was hoping youd say that :evil:

[rottentomato]

good im waiting :hide:

[fallonquinn]

\6\

The boat hit solid land the next morning. Astrid surveyed the lush forest and felt eyes on her from all directions. Behind her Levine scratched himself raw.

“We’re here.” He croaked.

“We are.” Astrid said. She stepped off the boat, one crimson boot digging into the sand. Water crested and ran around her heel. The Rogue stepped off, hand close to the pistol on her hip. “Wish we weren’t.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Astrid said.

“I’m going now.” Levine said. “The lady in the ocean will be waiting.”

Astrid turned towards him, ears peeled back towards the trees. Something there rustled but she let it be. Whoever it was wasn’t very good at concealment. Levine coughed it his hand. A red tracery of tree branches filled his bloodshot eyes.

“Think about what I said.”

Levine gave her a cursory glance and then looked back at the ocean. “Push me off?”

Astrid forked the toe of the boat with her boot and gave it a hard thrust. The boat pushed off. Levine started to giggle at an insane pitch as the boat drifted back out to sea. Astrid watched him go for the better part of an hour. All the way up until the footsteps behind her were a mere two feet away. She spun on her feet, old muscles performing their function with perfect timing. Her hand pulled leather, the pistol leveled. A tall boy in purple Sentinel garb let out a small yelp and then the spear in his hand dropped. Behind him a girl that looked almost identical to him shrieked and ran back towards the forest.

“Name.” She said.

“Patch.”

“Patch, I’ll make this nice and easy on you, okay?”

The boy nodded.

“You have any other weapons on you?”

He shook his head.

“Good boy.” She lowered the pistol. “Take a few steps back and explain to me who that was running away and how many more are on this island.”

“Two more, besides her.” The boy said. “We were waiting for you.”

Astrid tilted her head, the brim of her hat falling over her eyes. “How do you know it’s me you’re looking for?”

“You’re The Rogue, right?”

“Once upon a time, maybe.” Astrid said. She let the pistol hang at her side, grip loose and warm. “Are the others hiding out waiting?”

“No.” The boy said. “Both of them know you.”

“Like you know me, or actually know me?” Astrid asked.

“A big elf, says he knew you back in Menethil…said you kicked his ass in a bar fight weaponless.” Patch said.

You’ve gotta be kidding me, Astrid thought.

She couldn’t help but smile. Pardimor…old long, tall and ugly somehow got himself out of Menethil alive that night. “Who’s the other?” She asked.

“Calls herself Case.” Patch said. “Said you busted her fifteen years ago.”

Astrid knit her eyebrows together. “I didn’t spend a whole lot of time on law enforcement or home guard.”

The boy shrugged. “Said it was for forging a medical rationed license.”

No chimes went off. Astrid holstered the pistol. “Why are all of you here?”

“Better if you see it.” Patch said. He lowered his hands.

“See what?”

He gave her a grave look. “The Door.”

\7\

“Old long, tall and ugly.” Astrid said.

Pardimor smiled when he saw her. The Rogue noted the dents in his armor, the chinks in his sword, a wide scar ran down the left side of his face.

Finally been through the ringer, she thought.

The woman standing next to him she recognized. “I’ll be damned. Molly Millions…the con artist that could have been.”

“Bite me.” Case grunted.

Astrid smiled, pulled the brim of her hat down and stared at the door. She saw the words inscribed on the surface and silently cursed the Gods for dragging her into this mess all over again.

What we do is only a reflection, she thought, it’s already been done, you’re just seeing it through a darkened glass.

“Once this door opens, that’s game.” Astrid said. “I can’t guarantee any of you surviving.” She walked over to the door and ran one hand across the smooth polished surface before settling on the brass oily knob. “Patch…you and your sister guard the door, keep it open while we’re inside.”

“Understood.” Pardimor bellowed.

She turned the knob and pulled the door open. A thick cloud of air assaulted her. Lily whimpered somewhere in the background. Through the door was the interior of the Alliance base. Astrid recognized the stonewalls and alcove. Above her the sparrows screeched. The Rogue stepped through. A moment of blinding nausea filled her and then her boots clicked on the hard surface of the floor. A swarm of sparrows flew through the doorway behind her, cutting into the air, sliding through the gated exits out into the Gulch. Astrid moved to the center of the room by the two objects on the floor. A bottle of unlabeled whiskey was propped up next to a long thin sword housed in a leather scabbard.

Her sad eyes took in the sight.

Someone’s been expecting us.

\8\

It’s time, Sooner whispered.

Perion got to her feet, eyes wild and bloodshot, the skin around her sockets black flaps of nothing. Something close to rage turned over in her chest like a polished stone. She ran to the gates.

“ASTRID!”

\9\

The Rogue paused. Through the thrum of the birds and the cursing of Molly Millions trying to make it through the door she heard the scream. Crystal clear across the barren land of The Gulch.

Perion…what did they do to you?

The torrent of birds never slowed. Through them Molly Millions stumbled out into the Alliance base. The woman pin wheeled, her white coat flailing behind her.

“What the **** is up with the birds?” Molly grunted.

Astrid said nothing. She swept the bottle of whiskey of the floor, uncorked it, and then let the brown fluid race down to her stomach, staring a small bonfire on the way. The bulk of Pardimor crashed through the door. Astrid turned, bottle in hand, and saw the sparrows vomiting from the door like water through a broken dam. Hunched over she took the sword from the ground, the familiar weight comforting to her hand.

“Aramin?” She whispered.

“Over her.”

The man came from the alcove built into the corner of the chamber. He looked as he had in the dream, healthy, flesh restored. A smile crossed his smooth features. “Thought you could use a pick me up.”

“Who the **** is this, dude?” Molly grunted.

“Shut up.” Astrid snapped. She slung the sword over her shoulder, the pommel in easy grasp of her one hand.

“You ready for this?” Aramin asked.

Astrid took another swig from the bottle. “No.” She said.

The gates started to retract. Astrid glanced at them. “I don’t think anyone ever could be.”

“Touché.” Aramin said. He took the bow from his back and notched an arrow.

“What do we do?” Pardimor asked.

Astrid glanced over her shoulder, her stomach a furnace of distilled alcohol. “Try to stay alive.” She said.

The Rogue set the bottle on the floor, turned and sprinted towards the opening spikes. In one fluid motion she dropped to her knees and slid below the rising wooden gates. Aramin followed. The two, the last, warriors entered The Gulch for the final time.

\10\

Perion dropped down the stunted cliff. The tips of her boots cutting dirt from the sheer rock face. She landed in a gangly mess on the ground. Old blood ripped through her veins, pumped her heart into overdrive. Crows spilled from the Horde base and blasted towards the Alliance. Her peripheral vision caught sight of phantom figures, things that shouldn’t be beside her. Hundreds of dead warriors of every race and creed.

One or the other, she thought. You or me, Astrid.

She covered ground quickly. From the Alliance base a mass of sparrows erupted. The two packs of birds met in the sky tearing at each other. For one horrid moment Perion stood where she was transfixed.

It’s raining birds, she thought.

Small dead feathered bodies dropped from the air. Hollow bones broken, black eyes pecked out. They fell in massive numbers, crows and sparrows alike. Perion grabbed the shadows and let herself fade into them. She pulled both daggers. Black light flickered down their length, crimson runes burning along the serrated edges. Her feet danced along the crumbled dirt. For a brief second she felt the ground vibrated. The Gulch seemed to tremor.

This is only going to end badly, she thought.

\11\

Astrid stormed the tunnel run. She dropped into the pocket of nothing and vanished from sight the moment she broke cover out into the open. Above her a battle of attrition filled the sky. Dead birds plummeted to the ground like tiny meteors. Dead warriors lined the battlefield, faint apparitions that shimmered in the darkened premature twilight created by the blanket of sparrows and crows above.

Goodbye, Lilliam…I love you.

Aramin stormed past her. What followed with him was an army of phantom Elves, Humans, Dwarves, and Gnomes. Astrid slowed to a light sprint and rounded the corner to the main stretch of no man’s land. Short hills rose and dropped leading up to the Horde base. Fifty yards ahead she saw Perion, or what had once been Perion. Astrid slipped back into reality, her form solidifying. She couldn’t ghost Perion, and neither could the other woman her.

We’ve fought too long, she thought. Only this time it’s not us versus the world. Just you and me.

Perion saw her. The locked eyes. Perion looked like someone had through her into a meat grinder, the left overs used to feed a few wild dogs.

You’re not my sister, Astrid thought. She died somewhere back in Menethil.

“ASTRID!” Perion shrieked.

Astrid pulled leather. The pistol weighed her on her arm like a mountain. She squeezed twice. The muzzle flashed, rotated, and then flashed again. The steel shot went astray kicking up dirt just at Perion’s feet. Astrid became acutely aware the ground had started to shake. She caught a crack growing in the dark soil. It widened and then raced towards both bases, spreading out like a spider web. Astrid ran forward. She pulled the trigger till the cylinder ran dry. In one quick flicker of motion she depressed the side hatch and the six barrels flew off leaving only the center steel rod. She shoved it down into the second holster on her leg full of freshly loaded shot. Perion dodged right and left, a slug caught her on the shoulder spinning her around. The Rogue never missed a beat though.

Let this be over, please, Elune, let this be over.

Blue light started to filter up through the craters in the ground. The earth broke apart like stone caught in a vise eventually gives. Astrid clamped the second cylinder into place and raised the pistol. They met in the middle of the battlefield. Perion swung low, the black dagger tearing into her. A searing pain cut across Astrid’s midsection. She screamed, jumped back and fired twice. Both shots plunged into Perion’s chest. The woman screamed and darted forward.

Astrid tossed the pistol aside and drew the thin sword from her back.

One arm, had to lose that ****ing arm, her mind screamed.

The two danced an ancient ballet of death. Astrid blocked the next shot. The ground screamed and broke apart around them. Birds slammed into each other, hollowing bones snapping. From both sides ghosts locked themselves into a battle that raged on for eternity.

It stops today, she thought. And soon, now.

Thick black fluid drained from Perion’s mouth. The woman lunged forward, Astrid pivoted on her feet, her sword found the open entryway and tore flesh from Perion’s right arm.

I’m so tired of this.

In the back of her mind she tried to let those things go. Images flashed before her. Lilliam standing on the beach to afraid to go into the water. The little girl with her arms wrapped around Toma’s neck. Terris, alone with her, in the darkness, the two of them tangled in the bed sheets. The feeling of her little girl, unborn, and moving in her belly.

Perion’s black dagger flew out, and when it did Astrid left herself open. A sad smile painted itself onto her features. She felt the tip pierce her right side, cutting through the flesh there, rupturing what felt like her liver.

That’s a kill shot, I’ll set my l life on it.

The thought made her laugh. Blue light exploded through the crags in the ground, bright and blinding. Astrid felt steel where no steel should ever be. Something popped out of her back.

That’s the other end, she thought. She really did stab me.

Perion stopped, eyes wide, amazed the blow had landed. “Astrid…” She whispered.

What remained of her seemed to surface. The slackened face, tightened for a moment. Astrid smiled. Her hand dropped the sword, it tumbled to the ground amidst the ground tearing itself apart and the blue light engulfing them all. Somewhere, far, far, away she heard Molly Millions, Case, screaming something.

Aramin…you were right…it doesn’t matter anymore.

“Astrid.”

“Shhh.” She said. Consciously she took a step forward impaling herself further. “It’s going to be all right.”

They were tossed back and forth as the ground shredded to nothing but blinding light. The bodies of the dead birds morphed into shooting stars of light that vomited towards the sky. Meteors gone in reverse.

This is what its like to be born, she thought.

Her hand found the small dagger on her belt. Something from Winkin’ or maybe not. Things were starting to get cluttered in her head. Her peripheral vision had turned into nothing more than black wisps of smoke. The ghosts around them vanished one by one, the dead bodies of the birds carrying them up towards the sky or back into the craters of The Gulch. Crows and sparrows alike, it didn’t seem to matter.

“Astrid, no, no, no.” Perion mumbled. “Sooner, please.”

Who’s Sooner?

“Astrid, I’m so sorry…I was mislead.” Perion said.

“I know…” Astrid whispered. She pulled the dagger from her belt, and then in one fluid movement side armed it straight into Perion’s skull. There came a stark point of resistance as it shattered the temple and then went straight through the woman’s brain. “I know you were.”

The blue light mixed with a tunnel of birds that swarmed around them. Perion dropped to the ground as it ruptured beneath them. Astrid stood, one foot on either side of a massive crack in the ground. The blue light smothered her.

Everyone suffers here, she thought.

Darkness that came in the form of blue light swept her away. Astrid Erinyes, one of the last among many to leave the Gulch and come back, fell to her knees. The dagger in her stomach oozed thick blood. She smiled, and then fell face forward over Perion.

\11\

The blue light faded. Astrid awoke, both arms, dressed in a tan thin dress. She blinked, taking in the scenery. Tall field grass ran knee high, a central tree, it looked like an oak, sprung from the ground. Its canopy of leaves boasted a Technicolor dreamscape. They formed patterns and faces, images of people long gone by. Sitting beneath the tree was a thin woman, short black hair, pale skin. A black t-shirt hung from her shoulders, the slogan “Live Fast, Die Pretty” written across it in pink cursive script. The woman stood up, black denim creaking.

“Where am I?” Astrid asked.

“You’re dead.” The woman said.

Astrid blinked.

Dead, she thought. Like dead in the ground, not breathing, a terminal cease of bodily functions.

She flexed her muscles, running through each section of her body. Fresh air poured into her lungs carrying in the scent of jasmine and pine. Astrid got to her feet. She smiled, saddened, tired, and overall: lonely.

“I really am dead, aren’t I?” She asked.

The woman nodded. “Dead as a doornail. Dagger through the liver, you bleed out into your abdominal cavity.”

“So what’s this?”

“A way station. Point between worlds, this life and the next.” The woman, shrugged. “It’s whatever you want it to be.” The leaves above her shifted patterns forming the face of Lilliam, an older Lilliam, some years in the future.

Astrid felt a strange brand of tears form behind her eyes. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why all this?” Astrid asked. “Why did it end this way?”

“Because people see things as a reflection.” The woman said. She ran a hand through her short cut hair. Her plumb colored lips pursed together. “Everything you do has already happened, you’re just living it in reverse. The first coming of Elune was simultaneously her first and second arrival.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to.” The woman said. “Think of it as a game of chance that’s rigged. There is no such thing as coincidence. Forces beyond your control led you to your current situation, just like it did for Perion. Control is irrelevant when you never had it to being with.”

Astrid turned and faced the sea of grass. A green sea, so much more different than the dark ocean she’d crossed. “What happens now?”

“Whatever you want…the eternity you desire.” The woman said. She folded her hands under her breasts.

“I’d like to see The Highlands…never been there before.” Astrid said.

“Cute.”

The leaves changed again showing Terris’s old face, aged, standing before a small granite block planted in the ground.

“Who are you?” Astrid asked.

“Me?” The woman smiled. “A hopeful…a muse,…an author of fate.”

“What’s your name?”

“******.”

\12\

Molly Millions, also known as Case, ran down the sloped hill. Her mind had flipped over into a terminal overdrive that swept away the downers in her system. Pure adrenaline flooded her. There’d been some kind of massive-

Well…she didn’t know what. Dead birds littered the ground. The earthquake had ended a few minutes ago. She sprinted, Pardimor at her heels towards the center of The Gulch. She stumbled over crags and shattered ground twice, Pardimor lifting her once. When they reached the bodies Case flipped over Astrid. A sickening feeling filled her gut. The blade was in the wrong side, the wrong side for Astrid.

See ruptured spleen, she thought incoherently, see liver lacerations.

Pardimor touched her shoulder.

“It’s over.”

They stood over the bodies for some time before Pardimor lifted her from her the ground and carried her back to the door. Patch and Lily were waiting, terrified, eyes wide, sweat coating their skin.

“What the hell happened?”

Pardimor stepped through the door. It slammed shut behind him. They all watched as the two words vanished from the polished surface of the door. It stood erect for a second longer and then simply fell over. Pardimor watched it for a moment longer.

“It’s done.” He said. “Whatever it was, it’s done.”

[fallonquinn]

\CODA\

Lilliam woke at dawn that day. She stretched, kicked her legs over the side of the bed and went into the kitchen after putting on a gray colored robe. From the other bedrooms two little girls raced out and hugged her legs.

“You two brush?” She asked.

The two girls nodded.

“We going to see grandma today?” Alison asked.

Lilliam nodded. Her husband had died some years ago. It was a yearly tradition for them to visit the grave they’d made for her Mother. No one found the bodies. No one found anything. The next people to enter The Gulch all those years ago found fresh grass, a few trees, and calm.

They reached the cemetery at none. Her Father was already there, Toma by his side. They’d found the dog after Menethil had been retaken. Lilliam remembered their strange life in Stormwind through fragment dreams.

Through a darkened glass, she thought.

They stood in silence, nothing more than a one foot high, five-inch wide granite stake representing her Mother. Lilliam held both her children’s hands.

“What’d she do?” Kali asked.

“Something great.” Lilliam said. “Something very great.”

And thus…all things too must pass, whether, clearly, or darkly.

The Gulch: FIN





Afterword: For better, or worse, we’re done.
Fallon Quinn
06/16/06 – 01/14/07


:wave:

[rottentomato]

yay :) thank you

[Grubblies]

Great storywriting, a lot of good plot development in there! I enjoyed reading it a lot.

Now, I must make two points:

1. Please, stop using vomit as a metaphor!!!

2. Stop talking so much about their breasts, for two reasons - it's unnecessary, and it sounds juvenile.

But other than that, great story!

[bpaige]

Quinn..I take it from some character names you are either well versed in nursery rhimes or a fan of Marcenko writing...

:)

[fallonquinn]

If you're referring to Winkin', Blinkin', and Nodd, I'm surprised you caught that, yes, those were direct pulls from the old nursery rhyme. Perion Aphelion, by definition her last name is specific to her. Aphelion: The point in orbit where a planet, comet, or asteroid is at its furthest from the sun. The whole story's sprinkled with stuff like that. >^.^<

[bpaige]

Well done....Well done indeed.

[trudelle]

I dont know if Grubblies is being serious or not. In the event they are, their opinion is not shared by all. Your stories (I'm waiting for more in Loveless) are addicting, and I cannot not recall any extreme detail about the characters breasts. The work is in no way juvenile and I would support some of the others responses that you have a great gift in writing, and I for one have enjoyed your work.

[fallonquinn]

Thank you very much for your comments (good or bad). I really do appreciate them. After pouring a large amount of effort into something you like doing, after awhile you just want someone to recognize it. All the posts you've submitted have helped adding motivation to punching away at the keyboard. So thank you, you've been a wonderful source of inspiration.

[Grubblies]

I want you to keep writing more stuff :D Just use vomit as a metaphor less often (it's ok for characters to actually throw up) and you don't need to say "She folded her arms under her breasts", saying "She folded her arms" is enough. Just little things like that.

[Toneandonly]

omfg!! wat the hell is this sum1 plz tell me!??
:sad:

[Toneandonly]

I want you to keep writing more stuff :D Just use vomit as a metaphor less often (it's ok for characters to actually throw up) and you don't need to say "She folded her arms under her breasts", saying "She folded her arms" is enough. Just little things like that.

hhhheeeeeeyyy!!!!! most guys like me luv breasts!!!!!!

[rottentomato]

hhhheeeeeeyyy!!!!! most guys like me luv breasts!!!!!!

yea...because you obviously just got weened off your mothers.....



fallon, i love your writing, and i suggest you leave it the way it is, its easier to visualize saying something like "she crossed her arms over her breasts" rather than "she crossed her arms"


for grubby or whatever their name is.... you dont say "they entered the room" youd say "they entered the room, dimly lit with candles and a large red carpet on the floor to the entrance, and as he walked the eyes of hundreds of heads of beasts on the walls watched him slowly cross the threshold."

[rottentomato]

a writer paints a picture, and fallon uses body parts to help draw a picture in the readers mind when stating what they are doing. :wink3:

[Grubblies]

My goodness. I can't believe I'm getting these responses.

Toneandonly - Grow up and learn to write English please. By the way, I'm getting married in May and I have access to as much breast as I want. Man, I can't believe I just stooped to your level to say that.

Rottentomato - There is a difference between drawing a picture with words, and talking about breasts more often than is necessary. I am NOT criticising Fallonquinn's work I am simply giving advice on writing in a more professional fashion. Women always fold their arms under their breasts. There's no point mentioning it. Please don't try to tell me how writers paint pictures and all that rubbish, because guess what: I already know. Why do you think I only come here for the Fan Fiction? Because I like reading, and I like writing.

I can't believe I'm actually debating this with anyone.

[OneoftheLost]

umm..sorry to interrupt such deep thoughts.... .

:undecided:

but I just read the first part. Phenominal stuff. I'm a budding writer, and thought I'd check out what a good writer does. Truly awesome stuff, I would read more, but alas work calls. Ill have to finish sometime later.

@ you others: I may be new here, but are you all seriousley arguing how the author writes? Now you both have valid points and all....but think about it, you are both kinda-sorta ragging on how you write. Think about it, each writer describes his story different, stephan king writes waaaaaaaaaaaaaay different than Dean Koontz, who for the record writes much different than say...i dunno, J.K. Rowling, or Tolkien. So what rotten says is right, but so is what grubblies says, it just depends on your style......some people are descriptive, some arn't.

Just my two cents........I don't mean to offend anybody.

Enjoy your day.

[Grubblies]

You've completely missed the point.

[OneoftheLost]

You've completely missed the point.

Possibly, in which case I will bow out of that part of the conversation.

On a different note, just got finished with the second part. Good stuff. fallonquinn you are an awesome writer.

[rottentomato]

You've completely missed the point.



well to get back on the point...there ARE professional writers that mention breasts quite often in descriptions of peoples stances...

Chuck Palahniuk...author of Choke, and the major motion picture Fight Club...
also sci fi fiction writer P.N. Elrod...writer of several novels involving vampires and also one of the many authors of the Ravenloft series.

Some authors prefer to describe everything, as that is how they captivate the reader, and some authors write with vague descriptions but captivate readers interest in other ways.

[fallonquinn]

The Final Word:

I was sincerely hoping I would not have to write this. This mini-debate has gone on for longer than it should have. I appreciate all your advice, and BOTH of you are right in the points you've made. The story is the story, for better or worse, I've always said that. I'm asking you both, politely, to agree to disagree and stop any further bickering. Lets try to be adults here and respect each others opinions. To be honest I'm a bit taken aback by the response this story has gotten, I never foresaw any of it. This was always a fun little project for me.

All I'm asking is for the 'back and forth' comments to end. Enjoy the story for what it was. I thank all of you for your words of encouragement and advice:

Niderin
bpaige
Foonyak
Grubblies
rottentomato
Katarinea
Chells
Arcamedes
Tor varr
trudelle
Virgil
ameras
lunaengima
OneoftheLost

I'm considering this subject as closed.

Fallon Quinn

[Grubblies]

Woohoo! My name is on a thankyou list :).

[Gizank]

A little late, but I wanted to add comments.

Fallon Quinn, this is excellent story telling! I read this, pretty much, straight through, and I was captivated from start to finish--even with the break to read the supplemental shorts. It's very dark; that's actually refreshing in a way. You're not afraid to make us hurt for the characters a bit.

I really think you should be working toward being published. You could use an editor, but mostly for word choices, and general proofreading. Any inconsistency in style seems more related to the serial nature of the product, in other words if you wrote this all out and gave it a once over you would probably fix the things that twanged in my ear.

The only thing I was genuinely bothered by was the conversation between Astrid and Patch. He seemed to completely change his language choices when he talked to her. I think that could be handled differently. A re-read on my part might change my opinion there, though. Take me with a grain of salt.

All that junk said, My point of this post was praise. I thought this was remarkably imaginative. The desciptive element is top-notch, and the pace of the story was nearly perfect. I loved her experience in the dance club, and how that whole multi-worlds angle was left a bit to our imaginations. Bravo!

Also... is Case/Molly supposed to remind me of William Gibson? :)

Great Job... keep up the good work!

[fallonquinn]

A little late, but I wanted to add comments.

Fallon Quinn, this is excellent story telling! I read this, pretty much, straight through, and I was captivated from start to finish--even with the break to read the supplemental shorts. It's very dark; that's actually refreshing in a way. You're not afraid to make us hurt for the characters a bit.

I really think you should be working toward being published. You could use an editor, but mostly for word choices, and general proofreading. Any inconsistency in style seems more related to the serial nature of the product, in other words if you wrote this all out and gave it a once over you would probably fix the things that twanged in my ear.

The only thing I was genuinely bothered by was the conversation between Astrid and Patch. He seemed to completely change his language choices when he talked to her. I think that could be handled differently. A re-read on my part might change my opinion there, though. Take me with a grain of salt.

All that junk said, My point of this post was praise. I thought this was remarkably imaginative. The desciptive element is top-notch, and the pace of the story was nearly perfect. I loved her experience in the dance club, and how that whole multi-worlds angle was left a bit to our imaginations. Bravo!

Also... is Case/Molly supposed to remind me of William Gibson? :)

Great Job... keep up the good work!


Case/Molly Millions, my two favorite characters. Neuromancer was what started me writing way back when. Just a personal shout out on my part. Good catch.

Fallon

[arcamedes]

fallonquinn sorry it took so long. i was away on a trip and i just finished the story today. i just want to congratulate you on an amazing story and i hope this isn't the last story you post here.

[Nitesky]

I Think Your The Next George Lucas!