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 ).

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.