World of Warcraft®

Walking down the stairs of the blacksmith, underplate on her shoulder and sweet still on her cheeks, she walked carefully back towards the hotal. The Heat from the forges of ironforge flowed around the heart faster and stronger and the boiling heat spinning sweat accross her face, glistening in the crimson orange glow.

Her heeled shoes tapping against the stone floor, she soon was only a few hundred metres from the hotel, a hotel that seemed to be guarded.

She cursed to herself, quietly saying "by the light, damn it." She could not go get anyone of her things, the book on her shoulder, the plate on the other she would need to go get a change of clothes somewhere else.

The Trade district was a good place to start, All she needed was a simple dress and nothing more.

......................

Zenera lay in the bed, her head beginning spin as the food did little to sate her head, her stomach or her weakness. The Food was poor by a low standards, the water tasted tepid and in all this, there was no quenching of thirst from it.

She felt sick, the feeling in her still going. she felt weak,

With the side of her left hand, she dragged it accross her body feeling how her body had been effected by the time here.
The bumps of bone were felt accross her chest, her ribs had pushed themselves to be seen beneaht weak flesh, it felt as though muscle was being eaten away.
Her breast had shrunk to be but the nipple and tiny layer of flesh. Her thin and spindly arms feeling ever longer than last thought.

Her entire body felt weak, turning over she tried to stand on her own two feet beside the bed though not to her suprise she promplly collapsed on to all four, ths sound of ti echoing through the infirmary. The weight of her own body too much for itself.

There was a man siiting on the bed next to hers, he leant up, the bandages around his chest still tninged with blood, and said "You alright?"

A priest rushed to Zenera.
"Of course she's not alright!" he said, blustering. He turned, beard bristling to the Guards.
"Thelmar Blood sausages! Beer basted boar ribs! Ale! Now!" He bellowed. He then turned to Zenera.
"Are you okay, lass?" He grabbed her hand. "Squeeze my hand if yer can hear me..." he said, trying to keep calm.
"Oh, god! What have they been feeding yer?" He said, angrily. The Guards brought the items asked for, and the Dwarf offered them to Zenera.
"Eat, and be healthy..." He said, praying.

Zenera clasped the bare hand of the priest, squeezing tightly as he asked, and attempted to pull herself up. Her body was weak, the shrunken fingers of her hand barely able to hold a grip.
It was warming to see the priest so nice, so gentle. Offering a hand rather than grasping a wrist.

It was nice to her but so too was it confusing, she wondered whether the dwarf was aware of what she was/

She held tightly his hand as she pulled herself up to the bedside and climbed atop it, then in the tingerling in her hand she remembered one sad day. Her hand tight on the bed top, she yanked her other hand away from the priest.
No matter the strength she mustered though, she hadnt enoguh and she fell against the bedside to the floor, She raised her hand to her forehead, the pain in her mind still present and without realising revealed to the priest markings of the Fel magics.

Though, it was no permenant paint but rather what appears to be burnt flesh. Never healed despite the time spent there. The burns were smooth and shined. Some were small, the names of demons long slain.

she said "grace of the light, my whole body aches" she leant her head back against the bed she had yet to notice what she had done to the priest hands that would soon fade.

A small black dot emerged on his hand.

The Priest looked at his hand. He was half-dark iron, so it hardly made a diffrence.
"Dunnae worry, lass..." He whispered. "We have all made mistakes, however big, but in the end, the Light forgives us...but only if we allow it to...for example, Thane Branos refuses the forgiveness, as he believes it was the Light that sent him to the Litch Kings chains. But the Light has offered forgiveness none the less..." He started to chant in Dwarvern.
"Oh light, light, holy light,
grant thy might,
in the fight,
for what is-bugger it, that's not right..." He said, frowning.
"They used to call me Kinslayer..." He said, softly. "For betraying the Dark Iron's when I did not fight for Thane Thaurissan...I believed that that sorcery was wrong, though I practiced it myself...my name is Ironhand, and I promise nothing will happen to ye..." He said, smiling.

As Zenera listened, eyes shut hoping that the spinning headache, suddenly shot open to stare to sealing as he stared at her hand, the hand that was molded with demon symbols but ,with him having some understanding, there was a certain comfort in his words.
He showed something that the guards dare'nt. The Pity that some would say she deserved.

She stopped staring at the ceiling and looked at the dwarf, hiding her hand behind her back and quickly apologised with the words "Sorry, sorry" she never liked it but in using it she found family in it.

She looked at the half dark iron for a moment but invariably she returned to laying her head on the bed, The food arrived and she ate and drank which filled the hole in her stomach but the weakness she felt was still there.....the food made a sweet distraction but it was nothing more.

She loudly muttered "I feel so weak" and she was. The dwarf......Ironhand made his introductions and in response she reached out her left hand saying "Zenera Staldove, some of the scarlets called me a witch for what i practised but most of them are dead now"

The gesture was done and Zenera laid back against the bed, the faint echoes of outside activity could be heard and behind her hand, her mind wandered whether the time was coming "Is the trial soon, Ironhand?"

"We shall meet again then, brother." There's sadness in his words. In some way, he feels he was befooled by Lyniath, the canoness. He tried to give her his caring, and in return he only got hate.
He is sure that doesn't matter, altough. The rebirth of the saint was a fool's choice. Maybe, in other conditions, such as peace times, all could be avoided. The saint may have been a miraculous diviner, instead of a martyr. A pinnacle of hope and faith, instead of a fanatic warmonger. He just wished he had taken 'control' over her, instead of letting everything happen.

Before he goes, Branos give him to taste one of his brews. Kal look at the mug with some suspition at first, but then he just shrug, and drink it up.
He coughs. "Definetly dwarvish." he says, rasping. "I would fall on my knees with about 2 glasses of this. About the flavour... i think should been a little more aged. It still have residual taste, you know."

Moments later, he sits down on his cell. He's impatient with what may happen next.

(Mind in send someone to talk with? Just so i don't be alone for long ^^ )

"Only those who surrendered lived, so I hear. Brutallity in the aftermath was rewarded in duty guarding the Island, and not going home..." He said, smiling. "I am sorry to ask you this, child, but will yer testify? Against or for Kaladrian? Against or for the Thane? If you say yes, I think you get a better class of cell..."

The Gaoler leaned against the wall, near Kaladrians cell.
"Oh you wretched man, you have gone through hell and back to find yer mates now want to throw yer back..." He shook his head, looking out the window.
"Did you know what the Thane's old motiffe was? All are Guilty...that was before the Fall of the Litch King....now it's Justice is Best... ah, dear, look at me blabbin' on like there's no tomorrow...when there is, as yer know...yer trial takes place then, laddy..." He grinned.

(Short Post, soz.)

The words that Galoer shot at him just created more sadness.
"Your thane is right, friend." he looks at the floor. "He has his reasons to have me here."

"What am i saying?!?" He thinks. "Why i'm giving myself to the wolves? Why don't i try to turn this trial at my favour? Am i this desperate to bring justice to myself? Or is just self-pity?" He cover his forehead with his palm, moaning. "Ungh... My head..."
He sighs. Now, he looks at Galoer. "Is there anything you want from me? I have nothing else to say, if is that what you're looking for."
Someone bonk twice on his cell door. "Oi, dinner's served!" A dwarf, with a apron and a cart, gives him a tray with bread, a small jug of water, and a hot meal. Kal pick it up, and bows his head at the dwarf, thanking for the food. The dwarf just humphs, and walk away.

As Kal eats, he notice galoer is still around. "Look. My trial will be done shortly. I did my best to reduce my sentence, but i cannot deny the wrong decisions i took in the Rosethorn island. Will i be found guilty? Almost sure. Will i be found inocent? Improbable, but possible. I am almost sure i won't leave this cell for a long time. Altough, the Light works in interesting ways. I did pray for Its holy protection, and i can only hope it enlights the jury about my toughts."
He feeds himself now, getting in silence. He has nothing else to say, unless is asked.






On the great forge...
"Two gold coins?!?"
The blacksmith nods.
"Fer a freakin' twin axe repair?!?"
"Yes. Yer blades were on a feeble condition. I barely had enough base metal to have a frame to fully repair it! Now pay, or i'll keep yer axes for meself."
The bear behind the dwarf roars annoyed.
"Calm down..." Sarbok sighs. "Right, here yer damned coins." He pays up, and in return his axes are delivered to him. "Come now Stout. We've a long night."
The kindred spirits, dwarf and bear, walk together away from the forge. Sarbok has plain knowledge his close friend is arrested and will attend trial on the next day. Altough, as any good friend, he will do whatever is possible to see him free. As Kal asked, he won't lie, bribe or even shoot, cleave or maim anyone who tries to punish for his actions. Bear included, no slack.
Either way...
"Field operative Sarbok Ironbear and attack beast Stout." He salutes at the guards at the entrance. "We require a audience with Thane Branos. And for tonight, if possible."

Inch by inch, she very slowly felt worse and worse.....her stomach growled even as she ate the ribs flesh, her mind spun as she drank the sweet liquid and her body tighten even as she relaxed.
This all happened despite her rest, despite the food, despte the drink.

But she had the strength to speak, she had to anyway, she thought it was important that she not only say this but she hear herself say this "I answer any question they ask me, truthly.....i damned myself already....i will not fling myself even further with lies for a more comfortable jail cell....it...its a jail cell regardless" the stuttered caused from her weakness in health.

Light forgive if she does. "Ironhand, when is the trial? How long to it?" She seemed rather insistent for it

.....................

Secilia remained anonymous as guard after guard past straight by her, she had no make-up on and the dwarves did not see her without it. though thinking that some will be looking for her without make up.

Her pace sharply increased until she finally arrived at a clothes shop, the walls drapped in colourful and interesting dresses and shirts and pants.

She was silent despite the greetings of the dwarvern woman. Secilia stood at the door way and simply searched the room for a set of clothes that did not strike someone as noticeable.
Dresses, shirts, trousers, pants, skirts.

She swept through the room, lifting a long skirt, coloured light blue, a shirt similairly coloured and a thin loose cardigan of light green and finally a hood to match.

Secilia as quickly as possible changed and left the coin needed to buy.

She swept out and went to hide till the trial came.

((sorry for the rushed nature of the second part))

"Shh, lass. It's tomorrow morning, nine of the clock..." Ironhand said, smiling. He looked to her.
"Oh, careful with the ale, though, a Hangover is not good in a trial...at least it's with dinner, so it's not too bad..." He smiled. Gaoler walked in, nodded, and said.
"The Witness needs dessert? I could go get some of tha' bread and butter puddin' the local chef's made..." He said, smiling. He did not like feeding prisoners this fancy food, but he knew that the health of the witness was at risk.

The Gaoler shrugged, and walked away, whistling. Night slowly began to fall like a blanket across Dun Morough, and thus, Ironforge as well. The Gaoler had a quick shout behind him.
"Oh, and dunnae be so melancholy...it's so tiring to hear prisoners sob stories..."

Branos looked up from his book.
"Sa! Field Operative Sarbok here to see yer!"" The Guard said, allowing Sarbok to pass.
"Ah! Sarbok! Good tae see yer well...staying safe, I hope? In vain, probably...what is it?" Branos said, getting up to greet his friend.

The night was growing around them, under the mountain it wasnt that obvious but the winds of inforge slowed the forges dying somewhat, the halls grew cooler as the cities fires numbed and the winds of dun morough seeped in.
The City was still warm as it always was but the creeping uncontrolled wind could be felt even if lightly.

Ironhand had said "Oh, careful with the ale, though, a Hangover is not good in a trial..." but by the light she wish she had a hangover, the throbbing head at least had a cause. This headache, presenting little outside of feeling, was an unknown ,zenera had no idea what caused it.

"by grace of all things holy in this world i wish the beer did something to my headache....." she said allowed making some irrational attempting at convincing herself that it actually did something.

She stayed silent for a moment as she gather the little strength gained from the rest and heaved herself onto the bed. Solace was brought that now she was at least on a bed by her own hand. She lay back on to the bed, head resting on the pillow.

Laying prone on the linen bed she told Ironhand "Tell them that so long as prosecution and Defence ask, i will play witness" she made her case and that despite that she hardly felt comfortable speaking ill of Kaladrian but she would.... not for the sake of her safety, not for kaladrian or Justice but just that she might leave this with a concious free of self-loathing and misery.

She turned her head to face ironhand and told him "If you're going to send me back to the jail, please take to Kaladrians cell, i just want to talk to him and if by the blessing of the light.....not the last"

Kal sneezes.
"Ugh..." Scratch his nose. "Seems someone is talking about me." He chuckles to himself. "Well, hope is something good, at least.

The cell where he is is now dark. No light besides some of the corridor slide through the cell bars, giving at least a minimum vision of what is around him. Kal is sit on the bed, thinking about what may happen next morning.
"By all that is holy... hope this end quickly."



"Branny!" Sarbok grip Branos' hand and shake it. "Good ta see ya too. I hope yer days since we last met were fortunate." He laughs. Then, he calms down, and release the death knight's hand. "Anyway... i came here with somethin' in mind. I know abou' me good laddy Kal, his arrest, and his trial fer tomoro'. I've been talkin with him earlier, and he begged me ta not do anything that can compromisse the last judgement."
His bear stands next to him, observing as the two bearded shorties talk with eachother. Sarbok pet his bear's flank. "Altough i'm not a important part of dis trial, and probably wouldn't help much, i will be in the juries' seat. I prefer to listen both parts during the trial tho. But... I'd like ta ask ye something, Bra- I mean, yer Thaneship. If we find him guilty, can ye give him a lower sentence than the common fer treason? That is... execution." Sarbok eyes stare at Branos, wishing him to understand why he asks for that.
Stout growls.
"Easy boy. Men are talkin' right now."

Branos shook his head...
"Sorry, lad, I'm not judge or jury here. I'm on trial too... incompetence, apparently..." Branos grunted. He looked around. "The trial is tomorrow, laddy. I cannae help yer friend, he's on trial from the court, not me...I merely apprehended him, as it goes..."
Branos sat down in his chair, slouching slightly.
"Can'yer not see? I'm under servailance, I cannae leave the house till the trial...give a good background report on him, if yer want, but the best way for him to get away with it, is if he pleads guilty...." Branos said, solemnly.

Zenera still lay there, no answer still from iron hand.

The words quickly spilt from her and said to Ironhand "Well, Ironhand?"

...................

Secilia slipped through more of the crowd, her clothes may be bright but the groups nefore her were too filled with the brightly clothed people, domr ertr sristocracts on exploration of the world they so arrogantly hold and others there to celebrate the trials.

The woman swept through and saw the ever familair face of gregory, his face covered in soot oddly, his body smelling like alcohol. Oddly the human didnt seem to recognise her.

Maybe the clothes hid her much better, gregory dropped a dusty parchment stained in charcoal. Secilia went and bent down to sweep the parchment. Turning around, she watched gregory dissapear into the crowd.

Returning to wander the crowds, she unfurled the rolled parchment and became engrossed in the words.

The scroll read "if you want to free her, your going to need to do something to slow it......anything......the boys wont be there till the small hand strikes.... the guards need to distracted......my advice? bring a blade. Get some rest, the boys are at tinkertown.....gotta room booked for you.... you owe me, girl."

wrapping the scroll up, she threw it away to a stack of crates.

"To tinkertown, i guess". she wandered in the direction of techno-magic looking town of tinkertown. Current home of the ironforge gnomes.

((Sorry guys, away for a few days, sorry))

((Right, I've got till Wednesday, then I am off until next Saturday.))

"Soon, lass...and it will take time...be strong..." Ironhand smiled. He patted her hand.
A guard looked in.
"It's tomorrow morn, if all's well..."

((Gonna keep to the point, shortie for today))

She tried to figure out how she could support herself enough to at least walk under here own power. In flash of family memory, step family really as the basterds of her real family abandoned her as wee little girl, she remembered that step gran would use a walking stick to get around.

Zenera looking again at the dwarf, ironhand, his hand resting on her own, that rested on her sweating forehead "Can see Kaladrian....I.....I want to explain my actions?" She wanted him to understand and hopefully someone would let her.

"Please? I dont want him to leave this world with my attempted suicide as one of the last thoughts"

((im bumping in just to let everybody know im still alive and kicking....))

Finally, the armor was allmost complete, many parts had to be thrown away and replaced, but in the end he was quite pleased with how it had turned out.
"Now fer the details..." he mumbeld as he got his tools up and began to carve the markings on the right shoulder, the old one had been so badly damaged that he had to make it all from the bottom, and now came to the carving of the symbols.

As he worked his mind was in a totally different place, but yet he avoided to make the runes and carvings wrong.
'Why?' his mind keept asking 'why havent you followed the rest that was there and support your commerads?' the question nagged in the back of his mind while he worked.
"They allready have enough with the death knights from Branos team to work it out, the last thing they need is a paladin, telling the exact same as the rest." was his reply.

'But what if they dont?' the question caut him off guard, even if it was his own mind.
"Why would they not, hes one of them, a true dwarf by heart, he only had bad luck once.....thats all, even they must know that." he attempted to sound sure, but inside he was in conflict.
'And what of Kaladrian' his mind asked. 'What is your opinion about him?'

Guigon stoped in the middel of a rune, thoughts rushing in his mind.
"I......im not sure about him...." he mumbeled as he started again, his golden eyes stared blankly ahead as he continued on the armor.
"He did what he did, that is clear, but the reason for it....that is what keeps me in the doupt."

'So you really belive that his reason would be enough to keep him from being declared guilty?' his inner voice asked (How could it do that anyway?), making Guigon chuckle slightly.
"No....guilty is he, but the reason might be enough to make his stay far shorter by my book."
He could hear the voice laugh, realising it was his own before talking.
'Because if your sister where with them.....you would have without doupt have turned.'

Guigon droppet the tools in suprise of this accusing, but as he looked on a glass cabinet where a spesific gun, unthouched byt the hands of time luckely, lay resting as a show to the customers of what he had.
He slowly picked up his tools, brushing them clean with a rag before continuing.
"Yes.....thats correct, i would have turned at once had she been with them, but that would not happen, both with reason we both know off...."

He keept on working until his eyes became to heavy for him to bear, he had worked a long time without rest now and finally he could not stay awake any longer he feel asleep, resting his head agaist the armor with the tools slipping out of his grasp, and his mind slipping away into the dreams.

"I... understand." Sarbok looks around, understanding the guards aren't the one's he's been used to see near Branos. "Well, maybe i should go and let ye alone, before dey think we've conspirating." Sarbok snickers, then sighs. "I jus' hope dis trial don't end up lookin' like a circus act..."
Sarbok gives a bow, then walk outside. "Stout." He turns to his bear, half the way back to the great forge. "Kal is in deep trouble. I dunno if we will be able to save him..." the dwarf looks down, sad.
In return, Stout give a handful of growls, some louder than others.
"Maybe everythin' will be alright..." a glimpse of a smile apprars on Sarbok's lips. Then, he pet his bear, scratching the back of his ear afterwards. "We shoul' go. Dere'll be a long day tomoro'."

((Waiting for someone to socialize with Kal to make his part ^^))

Ironhand shook his head.
"Not possible, lass. This isn't a hospital, this is a prison. You can't just request to go see a man who might be condemned...sleep, lass. Yer need yer sleep..." He said, quietly.

"I dunno if we should, lad...I dunno if the Kaladrian we know is the same one in the cells..." Branos shook his head, and got up. "Sorry, I can't help..." Branos looked to the door.
"Guards, we're done..." He walked upstairs, and moved to the balcony.
The night drew forward.

Ironhand blinked. "Suicide? Lass, go to see him, by all means, the guards will take yer to him...but yer might jerperdise his defence."