oldusedbloodknight

[oldusedbloodknight]

Wetwork

I am sitting in my favorite bar with my boots up on the table enjoying a bottle of Silvermoon’s finest when this little twerp who can not be more than an hundred and does not look old enough to shave, let alone be in the Army with a pair of shiny new lieutenant’s tabs, marches up to my table and snaps off a parade ground salute.

“Mistress Bloodsear.” He says, not making it a question.

I wave a couple of fingers in the vicinity of my right temple by way of returning his salute. “You found her,” I say. “What’s up?”

He looks all kinds of scandalized, but I outrank him so all he can do is say, “General Bloodheart’s compliments, ma’am and he’d like to see you at your convenience.” Which is a polite way of telling me to get my ass in the General’s office five minutes ago.

I toss back the rest of my drink, and head on over to Headquarters, brushing off an offer of directions from the twerp on account of having been in and out of the place longer than he has been alive.

I smile at the doll who is the General’s secretary, knock on the door, and go on in. Kel gets a real salute because he actually deserves it. The General kind of waves at me and tells me to close the door.

“Nice of you to drop by.” He says as I sit down in one of his chairs.

Turns out Kel needs a favor, “Official, but very unofficial” is the way he puts it. This is not a surprise because even though I am on half pay and officially on the outs with Command they have been known to need someone deniable to take care of their dirty work.

It’s when the General turns on the anti-snoop wards and everything outside goes all dim and muffled that I get an idea of just how unofficial the whole thing is. To make a long story short, there’s a Major Dawnblood on the General Staff who has been passing information to someone and Command wants it taken care of.

Now I kind of raise an eyebrow at this since the Ministry of Order usually handles this kind of thing. I mean, unexplained disappearances are kind of why we have a secret police, right? Well it turns out that Command hasn’t told them yet since they’re hoping I can clean things up before the Ministry of Order starts poking its nose into things the General Staff would rather they didn’t and finds Liadrin’s nudie pics or something equally embarrassing.

Normally this kind of thing results in an accidental magic discharge or a fall from a high window but it looks like Dawnblood’s done a runner to Old City, probably hoping he can hide out until he can be exfiltrated. Not that any of this stuff is exactly legal, mind you, but when politics is involved, legal goes out the window.

Silvermoon isn’t the city it was before Arthas came through and gave it a Scourge enema. Sure, some of the main streets have been rebuilt but that’s pretty much just makeup on a corpse; with most everyone getting killed plus a war on most of it’s the way Arthas left it. That’s Old City; the better parts are slums for refugees and outcasts, the bad parts are full of dark alleys and the kind of people you don’t want to meet in them.

I get to work on the case because Kel’s promised me a pretty sweet payoff and because doing favors for Command never hurts. It takes the best part of a day of asking around, calling in some markers, and greasing the right palms before I am able to get someone to tell me that he’d been seen near Crystal Square. Needless to say, that’s one of the bad parts.

I know this part of town since I grew up a couple of neighborhoods over and every trip back is like a walk down Bad Memory Lane. A couple of hours of looking and I haven’t found anything but bones, rubble, and a couple of junkies who take off as soon as they spot me.

I’m figuring that finding Dawnblood is going to take a while when Morrie steps out of more or less intact building and gives me that big grin of hers,

“Fancy seeing you here. Looking for our missing major?”

I shrug and say I didn’t know we were missing any majors and Morrie gives me the kind of look that says she knows I am bullshitting her.

“He doesn’t show up for work, nobody’s seen him around, you get summoned to Bloodheart’s office and start asking questions. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s happened.”

I shrug, “Maybe we’re just worried about his health.”

Behind me there is the faint feeling of movement that I have been waiting for so I duck, spin, and plant my boot in something that goes “Ooof!”

“Nice try, Linnie.” I say, dancing back a couple of steps while Morrie’s sister picks her ass up off the ground. “You guys pulled that one on me a couple of years ago.”

“Fuck you.”

“Last time I asked you weren’t into girls.” I say and she makes a very rude hand gesture.

Now I know Morrie and Linnie haven’t found anything because Morrie hasn’t been rubbing my nose in it, which she would if they had, so I propose we team up because a split fee is better than nothing. Morrie and I are competitors but we’ve worked together before so she agrees after we haggle for a bit. Besides the faster we find Dawnblood, the faster we can get out of here because the dead buildings are starting to give me the creeps.

We spread out to cover more ground and about half an hour later Morrie gives a holler. I hoof it over there and she’s leaning against a wall with a frown on her face.

“We got a problem,” she says, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

The problem is three dead guys. Normally dead guys in Old City wouldn’t be a problem but I recognize one of them as Inspector Volos who is a Ministry of Order asshole which means the other two are probably a couple of his goons. This is a problem because the Ministry gets really pissy when one of their inspectors turns up dead and they start asking a lot of questions. The kind of questions that involve sharp instruments in painful places or a shadow priest ripping answers from your mind or both; the Ministry likes to be thorough.

We could pretend we didn’t see them but the Ministry will haul out the scryers and arcanists and none of us has the magical oomph to hide from that. We all make faces at each other and decide we will have to report this to our employers and with any luck they can deal with the Ministry.

Dawnblood is in the next room. And the room after that. Morrie finds his head, which is more or less recognizable, Linnie finds his signet ring on his hand, and I find a sealed envelope which ought to be the documents Kel wants. There’s a nice bit of gold tucked away with the documents which I am about to tell the sisters about when I hear the growling and we all get our backs into a corner.

Officially, there are no more Wretched. Officially, our new super-duper Sunwell has solved our mana problems. Officially, Old City has been completely cleansed.

I count a half-dozen officially non-existent Wretched before I’m too busy trying to stay alive. It’s a short, ugly fight. I stun one that’s trying to tackle Linnie and she cuts its throat before it can recover. She returns the favor when my sword gets stuck in a torso and she puts a knife through the eye of the one who’s trying to blindside me. And then it’s over and there are five dead Wretched on floor and a couple of blood trails leading off into the ruins. We’re kind of dinged up but nothing a little Naaru juice won’t take care of.

After that, we  hightail it back to civilization and agree to meet up later to split the take. Kel’s in his office and I get ushered right in to hand over the documents and give him the lowdown. The general’s real happy to get the documents back, but not so happy about Volos. Fortunately, the Wretched are a nice, neat explanation for that. Maybe a little too neat, I say and Kel agrees with me. He suggests that maybe I want to take a vacation somewhere for a few weeks and I agree that sounds like a great idea because I am not stupid.

Between my fee, Morrie’s fee, the bonus for the documents, and what Dawnblood had on him, I am in possession of enough gold to keep myself in fruity rum drinks for a couple of months so I drop off a month’s rent with my landlady and catch the next portal out of town.

[oldusedbloodknight]

Tirisana Bloodsear

At First Glance:

Race: Sin’dorei Gender: Female Age: 36 (Human equivalent) Hair: Blond Eyes: Green Height: 5′8″ Build: Muscular

Concept: (Describe this character in one sentence)

Burnt out old guard Blood Knight

Trouble: (What causes trouble for this character?)

Outspoken, drinks too much

Relevant Tropes:

Knight in Sour Armor

Sergeant Rock

Magic Knight

Old Soldier

I Gave my Word

The Alcoholic

Core Beliefs:

I am: a Blood Knight, I fight for Quel’thalas and her people Other people: are mostly assholes and weasels The world: sucks, but I’m going to defend it because the alternative sucks more

RP Hooks (What are some ways RP might happen?)

She has information about Outland or the Mana Forges

You need to hire muscle

Someone’s hired her to collect a debt, etc. from you

Something involving alcohol abuse (bar fight, drinking contest, waking up in a strange place, etc.)

Blood Knight politics

Things You Might Have Heard: (What might someone have heard about this character? True or not.)

She’s in disgrace because of political reasons

She was one of Kael’thas’ bitter enders in Outland

She likes her liquor, a lot

She disappears for days at a time for “work”

She hires out as muscle

[oldusedbloodknight]

Deliverance

I’d been hunting Wretched for a couple of weeks when this guy looks me up and says he has a job if I’m interested. And I’m interested because turning in ears is pretty boring and doesn’t pay all that well. Turns out the job is finding a guy who owes him a lot of money. It’s even mostly legal since the guy has a warrant and everything, just needs someone to find the deadbeat and haul his ass back to Silvermoon.

So I look at the client and I say, “What’s the catch?” because otherwise he wouldn’t be hiring someone like me. The catch is that the guy’s hightailed it for some shithole way the hell out in the Ghostlands and the client can’t find anyone willing to go after him on account of the Ghostlands are still pretty dangerous.

I tell the client I didn’t think there was much of anything left in the Ghostlands and he says he didn’t think so either but this place is so far back in the sticks that even the Scourge didn’t find it. And I tell him it’s going to be extra on account of the travel time not to mention having to deal with the deadbeat’s inbred, tooth-sucking relatives, and the client makes a face and says, yeah he figured as much, and pays me a decent amount upfront.

Two days later I’m a day and a half out of Tranquilien and thinking that I should have charged that bastard twice as much because it’s rained the whole time and I’m soaked to the skin and what passes for a road is nothing but mud. My horse snorts and rolls an eye at me which I’m pretty sure is the horse equivalent of cussing me out. I just pat her on the neck and promise her a nice warm stable sometime soon. Pretty soon though I see some houses through the rain and the road dumps me out into Riverwood which is the name of the place I’m looking for.

Just like I expect, the place is a dump. A bunch of mostly falling down houses around what passes for a square. Probably didn’t look that great even before the War. Still, there’s something about the place that gives me the creeps and I file that feeling away because paying attention to stuff like that has kept me alive. I’m going to have to tread carefully, the deadbeat’s probably related to half the village and I can’t take them all on because I didn’t come loaded for bear.

I look around for an inn and don’t see one, so I look around until I find one of the locals. He isn’t drooling, which is a start, but he looks about as sharp as a sack of rocks. I ask him what’s around.

“We don’t much like strangers ‘round these parts.” He tells me,which is fine because I don’t much like him either. I open my mouth to tell him I’ll be gone soon as my business is done when something heavy smacks me in the back of the head and I go down into the mud. I take a couple more shots before I can do anything and it all goes black.

I wake up with a splitting headache. At least I’m not dead, I think, hurts too fucking much to be dead. Wherever I am is dark, someone’s cellar judging by the smell. There’s a little bit of light but it swims when I try to focus on it which means I probably have a concussion. I recognize the symptoms, having had a few.

I try to touch my head and realize the bastards have tied my hands. Well, first things first. I channel a little Naaru juice and the ache in my head drops to a dull roar and the bits of light stop moving around so much. The idiots missed the knife in my boot so it only takes a minute to get my hands free. There’s a pretty good lump on my head so I channel a little more Light until that goes away and takes the headache with it.

I check myself over, pissed off that I let a bunch of hayseeds get the drop on me, which I blame on a lack of booze. They’ve taken my belt which means no sword and no money. It also means they’ve got the warrant which means they know why I’m here, assuming any of them can read. If they’re smart, they’ll hold me for a day or two and let the deadbeat get a head start on my horse. Something about this place tells me they’re not that smart.

So I put up a ball of light and take a look around. Yeah, it’s someone’s cellar all right. The door’s barred but there’s a enough of a gap that I can get my knife in and pop the bar off. I open the door and take a look and there’s maybe a dozen hicks standing around jabbering at each other. A few have big sticks and one of the fuckers has my sword and there’s a pitchfork or two, but nothing serious in the way of weaponry. I am righteously pissed off at this point so I let a off a big shot of juice and the ground lights up. Most of the rubes take off running but a couple of them stand there screeching and trying to figure out what the fuck hurts so much. The asshole with my sword is waving it around like a piece of wood, which really pisses me off, so I drop a shitton of Light on his head and he stands there looking dazed until I kick him in the balls and take my sword back.  Then I kick him again for messing with my sword.

Even this bunch of inbred morons have figured out they’ve messed with the wrong person so they stand around shuffling their feet until I ask who’s in charge. There’s a bunch of hemming and hawing until they admit that there really isn’t anyone except for some guy in a cave up the hill who’s kind of the big cheese.

I head that way, making sure to keep the locals where I can see them, until I find a path at the edge of town. I follow it, twisting and turning up the side of the hill. There’s a sound and a couple of shapes stagger out of the bushes. Zombies, the smell gives them away before I see them. I don’t even slow down, just zap the buggers while I’m walking. The path ends at the opening to a small cave where someone’s been taking decorating lessons from Undercity.

“Great,” I think to myself, “A Lich King wannabe.” But I’d been pretty sure of that since seeing the zombies.

The necromancer’s some scrawny little bastard who looks barely old enough to shave; or maybe that’s just me getting old. However old he is, he doesn’t look happy to see me.

“You dare to disturb The Great Xarthax?” The way he says it, you can hear the capital letters.

I try not to roll my eyes too hard and point at the cage in the corner where there’s a guy in city clothes looking scared shitless.

“I’m here for the deadbeat.” I tell him.

“What?” He frowns and says, “His destiny is to feed my creations, as shall you.”

“No dice.” I tell him, because I am not planning on feeding anybody but myself and maybe that bartender with the tight ass I saw the other night. “I’m taking him back to Silvermoon.”

His reply is to chuck a ball of glowing green stuff at my head, which I dodge, and for the next couple of minutes I’m pretty busy fending off zombies and dodging spells. Between the two of us, it’s a fireworks show; with zombie parts flying through the air whenever one of them walks into the line of fire.

He starts to wind up for a big spell to finish me off and that’s when I hit him with one of mine and he stops in mid-syllable with a puzzled look on his face. He’s still looking puzzled a second later when his head is bouncing along the ground.

With necro boy dead, cleaning up the rest of the zombies is a piece of cake, and the yokels pitch in and help burn the bodies. They don’t actually thank me, but I get the feeling that they’re just as glad to be rid of him. Turns out he had a bit of cash stashed away, which I take for my trouble and the rest of my stuff magically reappears from somewhere.

I ask the deadbeat if he’s going to give me any trouble and he’s all “No ma’am, not a bit ma’am.” Which is good because I’m not in the mood to take any shit. Personally, I think he’s just happy not to be zombie chow. Long story short, I get him back to Silvermoon, the client’s happy enough to give me a bonus, and I head out to get drunk and see if I can hook up with that cute bartender..