the tale of baron hector krestan

8/14/2019 The Tale of Baron Hector Krestan

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The Tale of Baron Hector Krestan or: Life and Death in the Burning

Steppes. A true story as told by an anonymous son of Stromgarde. Manuscript

edited by C. Mishunadare.

Chapter 1: Assembly in Stormwind

I remember that it was a rather dreary, rainy day when I arrived once more in

the rebuilt kingdom. I had come to the southern human city of Stormwind on a self-

imposed break of sorts from fighting the Scourge in the Plaguelands when I saw the

note tacked to the doorway of the Gilded Rose Inn.

Excitement! Adventure! Glory!

Baron Hector Krestan is seeking three to five companions for an expedition

into the charred lands north of Lakeshire. Applicants are expected to be well versed

in combat and able to subsist on meager provisions for days or weeks. Apply at the

Stormwind Keep.

That was all the advertisement said. Miss Allison, the innkeeper, smiled her

sweet smile and told me shed just received the note a couple hours earlier. I knew

the fight in the north was an important one, but the Argent Dawn couldnt possibly

miss me too much while I was away. Im not much of a bootlicker, but I knew the

value of serving the nobility of Stormwind, and thought I could do some good.

Applications for the Barons companion party began the next day, so I went to the

vault, where I kept my dress armor, and began to prepare to impress.

Smithing had always been my strong suit, so I had crafted my own suit of

dress plate. Id traded a goblins fortune in thorium to a dwarf in Tanaris for the

plans, but setting out my plate in front of me on my bed in the inn, I knew that it

had been worth it. Silvery shining breastplate and leggings; blue boots, pauldrons,


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and helm. I set to work carefully polishing them, and, admittedly, admiring my

handiwork a bit. By the time morning came around, Id gotten a good nights sleep,

donned my armor, and was ready to go. I strapped my sheath and shield across my

back and carefully made my way down the stairs of the inn. Miss Allison smiled and

blushed at me as I passed, which put me in an even better mood for the upcoming

day. I thought that I just might have a chance as I walked through the canals.

The day was much brighter and clearer than the one before. I marveled at the

structure of Stormwind Keep that shone in the sunlight as I approached. I am a loyal

son of Stromgarde, whose lands have seen grander days, but I am brother to all the

human nations, save the traitors of Alterac, and appreciate the strength and honor

of the southernmost kingdom of humanity. The Keep impresses me whenever I see

its spires stretching out above the Old Town, loyal guards nearly motionless at the

entrance that overlooked the citys canals. The grandeur continued within as arches

supported the distant ceilings above my head, polished stone making up the floor

and walls of the hallways. I was walking up the main corridor, admiring this

construction, when a man in robes strode out of another hallway and right into my

path, and even though he was rather thin, with no heavy armor, the look he shot

me stopped me in my tracks. He was average height, with long gray hair, a short

gray beard, and a stern face. His robes were purple, and every article of clothing he

wore was adorned with skulls. A demon, some red thing with no eyes and thick

antennae, followed him, as did a female gnome. The gnome was clad in leather and

wore ornately engineered goggles. A small mechanical squirrel, in turn, followed at

her heels.

As I said, he stared at me, looking like he expected me to apologize, though

he was the one that cut me off. After a moment, he continued walking, talking to


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the gnome, who did not appear to be listening. With human nobles like this Krestan

guy, it usually pays to show him that youre not afraid of him, because sadly

enough, usually they havent seen it before. The gnome nodded obliviously and

continued tinkering with something too small for me to see. The demon sniffed

something, then continued trailing like a happy puppy. The squirrel skittered along

in a distinctly mechanical fashion.

Upon hearing the Barons name, I followed the little party out of the main

corridor of the keep into a side hallway. We emerged into a cavernous room full of

adventurers like ourselves. The warlock and his entourage disappeared into the

crowd, and I was left standing, nearly blinded by the light reflecting off countless

surfaces of finely polished armor. It seemed like every staff was glowing, every

blade ablaze with some enchantment. My heart sank as I looked down at my own

suddenly pitiful equipment and sighed. I had cared for my shield, but various

servants of the Lich King had dented it over time. My sword had been enchanted by

a dwarven female with, looking back, more skill selling enchantments than actually

enchanting.

Pulling myself out of my malaise, I re-sheathed my blade across my back and

began to make my way through the crowd. I had to try to force my way between

two men in spiky plate, then around an elven priestess who looked as if shed

scream if my armor brushed her robes. My travel continued like this for a while, until

I broke through the crowd and saw a line of people leading to a table. At the table

sat a tall man with dark skin and medium length black hair. He was dressed in red

Alliance military garb with spiky constructions on his mantle and a staff on his back

that appeared to be aflame. The warlock and gnome I had entered with were

leaving. Every applicant before me greeted the man, bowing, professing respect,


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acting like a servant. Elves, men, dwarves and gnomes passed this way, each

looking and sounding much more impressive than myself.

As each mercenary before me spoke with the Baron and left to work

elsewhere, or to chat with the crowd at the back of the room, I realized that I had

nothing to offer this man that someone else could not fulfill with stronger armor and

more experience. At that moment, the warlocks words washed back into my mind.

Act like youre not afraid of him. With nothing, seemingly, to lose, I placed my helm

upon my head and drew my sword and shield. Two applicants remained ahead of me

in line, and I examined my equipment carefully. Finally, the assassin in front of me

left, and I walked forward to face Baron Hector Krestan. He stared at me, and I

stared back at him, dropping my sword point between two stones in the floor and

leaning on it slightly, shield held at my side.

Name, warrior? He asked, somewhat sternly but pleasantly.

I gave him first, middle and last. Currently I work for the Argent Dawn in the

north, where the soldiers of Stormwind seem scared to tread. Here he arched a

brow. I also have experience fighting to the west in Kalimdor, serving against the

centaur and demons in Desolace.

He stared at me again.

I stared back at him and tried to will myself taller.

He seemed to smile slightly. Yes. Well, thank you for your interest in this

expedition. He turned to an attendant, who made a few scratches on a scroll, then

motioned me over. I sheathed my sword once more, attempting to somehow display

ego while doing so, and stepped to the side as a bulky dwarven paladin took my

place in front of the Baron. The attendant looked up at me with a slight sneer as he

took some contact information from me. He then spoke up. As you know, the


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number of applicants accepted will be quite small. Please return in one weeks time

at noon to find out who will be accompanying the Baron. Good day. Apparently, he

thought that my chances were about zero.

I stared at him through my helm a moment before turning to walk away, and

he seemed to press himself back into his chair, which made me feel a little better. I

parted the crowd more easily on my way out, but once I left the keep, something

odd occurred that killed my mood once more. A young boy holding a doll literally

ran into me, bouncing off my leg and falling onto his behind. Another girl that

looked much like him, Im assuming his sister, was chasing him, crying, and stopped

next to her brother when she saw me. Caught up in my show of ego, I stared

daggers down at the boy, whose lip quivered. He thrust the doll back into his

sisters hands and took off rapidly in the direction from which he came. The girl

looked at me with unmistakable fear in her eyes at my appearance behind my helm

and thick armor. Realizing how I had scared these children with my body attitude, I

quickly tried to remove my helm and smile down at her, but the second my hand

left my side she took off after her brother. I sighed and began to walk back toward

the inn.

A week passed. I busied myself with various training regimens in Stormwind,

but did manage to spend a little time relaxing as Id promised myself I would do. A

week was the planned length of my vacation, so it was a good bit of luck that I

wasnt expected back at Lights Hope Chapel before Id receive word from the

Baron. I dont know if I thought I really had a chance of being taken along, or if I was

just musing on the potential. I resolved to go to the announcement of the

expedition, though, if just to see who did make the cut. When the sun peeked its

way through the clouds that morning, I rose and went for a swim in Elwynn, then


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returned, donning my silver and blue armor once more and making my way to the

Keep.

I arrived to see much the same crowd talking amongst themselves. I

attempted to work my way into the group and find some conversation, but had no

luck, my simple appearance drawing sneers once more. I donned my helm, this time

to hide within it. I spied the warlock and gnome I had encountered on my last visit.

The gnome was speaking excitedly about something to a Knight of the Silver Hand,

and the warlock was arguing loudly with a tall teal druid that looked both bored and

annoyed by the demonologists presence.

A few minutes after noon, Baron Krestan and his weasel-looking attendant

emerged into the room. The crowds parted for them, and they took their place at

the back of the room. The baron raised his hands, and the conversations in the

room slowly ceased. He smiled at everyone, and then began to speak.

Mercenaries, servants of Elune and the Light, heroes of the Alliance. I

welcome all of you once again to the hallowed halls of Stormwind Keep. I have done

much thinking over the last week, and while I wish I could bring all of you, the

Kingdom budgets simply wont allow it. A few people laughed quietly. That said, I

have made my decision, and now know which four of you will be accompanying me

on my expedition into the Burning Steppes. I would like to present to you, in no

particular order, my companions. Applause broke out.

He smiled and raised his arms once more. First, an accomplished servant of

the teachings of Cenarius, and a powerful mender of wounds: Kalendrian

Boughwhisper!

Applause broke out once more. The teal elf I had noticed before waved his

hand to be seen, smirked at the warlock, who grumbled childishly, and stepped


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forward. Some of the audience seemed to know the night elf and shouted

encouragements. His mantle looked like claws upon each shoulder and his robes

were colored green and brown. He stood beside the baron.

Next, a stalwart warrior, and servant of the Argent Dawn and the constant

battle against the Scourge!

The first time he said my name, I didnt notice and was scouring the crowd for

the second winner along with everyone else. The second time, I caught on, and

removed my helm, attempting to force my way through the crowd. They stood with

confusion and disbelief, and I eventually started shoving myself between them and

forward. I popped out of the crowd, and Baron Krestan smiled at me as I took my

place beside the druid, helm in hand. I smiled out at the crowd, where most of the

plate-wearers grumbled in disbelief. The baron, however, continued on as if I was

the obvious choice.

A mysterious and stoic, but efficient dreadmage, Crianas Mishunadare!

The crowd swiftly parted for the warlock I had run into a week before not

out of respect, but because no one wanted to be too near him. He strode smugly up

to the front of the room, the gnome Id seen him with following and standing at the

front of the crowd. The druid Kalendrians smile vanished. Ignoring the crowd, and

with a venomous smirk toward the druid, the warlock took his place beside me.

Peering over at my equipment, he quietly stated, You took my advice.

I nodded silently.

Thats the only way hed have chosenyou, he added. My smile began to

melt a little.


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The baron continued. Finally, he said, a daughter of Gnomeregan who

brings its technical expertise into the future, Sprit Cogtwirl Spritetoggle the

Second!

That female gnome that had accompanied the warlock grinned. She grabbed

her mechanical squirrel and hugged it to her as she ran forward to take her place

beside the warlock. She smiled down the row at all of us, and the Baron smiled back

at her.

To the rest of you, I thank you for your interest in the expedition. Better luck

to all of you on my next adventure! Until then, please continue your service to the

Alliance, and may the Light protect you all. The baron ignored the clamor of the

crowd, half-disappointment, half outrage, and greeted each of us in turn before

addressing the group. Please inform whoever you need to inform about our

expedition. I expect us to be gone for about one month. Food and supplies will be

provided. We will meet here one week from now. Congratulations to all of you, and I

look forward to seeing you all again in seven days time.


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Chapter 2: From Elwynn to Elementals

A week passed without incident. I sent my correspondence off to the Dawn,

informing them of my planned absence. I polished and prepared my armor. I stocked

up on sharpening stones and some combat elixirs. I exercised and visited with my

trainers. When the sun rose on the day of our partys departure, I gathered my

belongings and set out for the Keep once more. I found the Keep free of the crowds

of adventurers for once. The baron was there with his weasel of a familiar, as was

the druid, Kalendrian, who spoke softly with the noble. Both smiled at me when I

entered, and I set my helm down on a tabletop and greeted each.

Good morning, human, the druid said softly. Im glad that I can work with a

defender of the northern lands. Ive spent my time there as well and know how dire

the situation is.

Thank you, I offered. Im not from Lordaeron, but I still feel like its my

struggle.

Not mine, someone said. With all the idiots that cant see past their own

memories and property values up north, I can spend my time on other fights.

Though I didnt recognize the voice coming from behind me, I recognized the tone,

and knew that Crianas, the warlock, had arrived. The cacophony of footsteps I heard

confirmed that hed brought his demon, and that the gnome rogue Sprit and her

companion squirrel had arrived as well. I turned around.

The Argent Dawn isnt fighting for nobles deeds in Lordaeron, theyre

fighting the menace that is the Scourge, I stated. Do they not pay enough for your

refined tastes, warlock?


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The older man glowered. Dont impugn my morality. You havent the fondest

idea what I fight for.

I sneered back. Personal glory or the highest bidder, Im sure.

My impromptu opponent puffed himself up slightly, and was about to walk

over to me when a firm Gentlemen, from the baron stopped him. I will not have

such infighting on this expedition. Find out what drives each other through less

confrontational channels, please. And we should have time to get to know each

other during the travel. Krestan turned to his supplies, and Crianas turned to deal

with his own equipment.

Crianas caused no other problems that day. Baron Krestan explained our

timetable for travelling from Stormwind to Goldshire and Eastvale; from there, east

to the mountains and Lakeshire, and from that town north into the black wastes of

the Burning Steppes. We were to leave the next morning, so my enthusiasm and

zeal was put off another day. I spent my remaining free time giving my equipment

yet another look and walking around the city, taking in the sights. When I was a kid,

my parents talked about Stormwind as if it was gone, in the past tense. This made

my experiences there all the more magical.

Dawn broke on the Valley of Heroes, and I strode calmly between the statues

of the fallen to the meeting point at the gates of Stormwind. My sword and shield

were strapped to my back, so anyone following us would know I was a son of

Stromgarde. I carried a spear as well, one gifted to me by a quartermaster for the

Stormpike clan after I served against the trolls and orcs in Alterac. This I used as a

walking stick for any long journey I took on foot.

About a year prior, I had been with a group of mercenaries that stopped in

Hillsbrad Fields for a nights rest. Our force consisted of a leather-clad skirmisher, a


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fire mage, a gnomish demonologist, myself, and another armored warrior. We

retired to our beds that night peacefully, but after only about an hours sleep, we

were roused suddenly by a cry from the gnome. We sprang out of bed to find a

familiar looking orange mask that the sleepless gnome had spotted among the

mages other things.

Unfortunately, it was that moment that the fully clothed and armored mage

walked into the room with the other four of us dressed for bed.

When the dust cleared, the warrior was dead, and the skirmisher lay charred

atop the mage with both swords buried into the other mans flesh. The blasts of fire

and shadow that had flooded the room knocked my leg into a burned and twisted

shape. A Knight of the Silver Hand in Southshore managed to patch me up, but Ive

had a slight limp ever since. And so I use my spear for balance, and to relieve

weight on long journeys.

Anyway, I approached the gate to find Baron Krestan waiting in the same red,

ornate robes Id seen him in a week before. Crianas stood to the side, seemingly

staring at nothing. After greeting the Baron, I cautiously strode over to the warlocks

side the opposite side as his blind demonic pet. His eyes darted between bushes

and trees nearby. What are you?

Duel.

Duel?

The warlock just pointed to a shadowy patch of bushes. I opened my mouth

to speak again when I suddenly saw a dark panther pounce at something. A colorful

ball rolled beneath the cat and shoved it away, landing on its feet as I recognized it

as Sprit. The cat and gnome leapt at each other once more, clawing and slashing in

midair before disappearing into the shadows again.


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I blinked, and it happened again, except that the gnome knocked the cat

down deftly with the flat side of a blade, then tackled it, holding a dagger to the

side of its head. The pair froze, then Sprit climbed off and disappeared once more,

and with a flash of green-hued light, the cat materialized into Kalendrian

Boughwhisper, who waved at me. I waved back. But whered Sprit go? I asked.

The druid shrugged and strode over, breathing heavily. If you couldnt tell, I

couldnt see her very well.

I shook my head. I just got here, Im afraid.

With that, the warlock pointed at the base of a tree about ten yards away.

Kalendrian and I blinked, at which the warlock rolled his eyes, turned to his demon,

and said Malak rizal.

The pup bounded forward toward the point and we heard a squeal, then

watched the felhound chase Sprit out from behind the other side of the tree.

I hate you, Crianas, and Im going to gut this demon if you dont call it off!

the gnome warned.

After enjoying a long grin, the warlock snapped his fingers and the beast trod

once again toward his side. We all turned to face the Baron, who smiled.

Congratulations, Sprit. Now then. Everyone please grab a rucksack of supplies. He

turned to gesture at the cluster of bags behind him. I assume youve all left your

mounts with the stable master?

He turned to see Crianas astride a black, fiery demonic horse among the rest

of us. Crianas gave a remarkably innocent look.

Mister Mishunadare, the rules for this expedition clearly state that

Baron Krestan, this is not a horse. It is a Xorothian Dreadsteed, and

furthermore simply a physical instantiation, not a real animal. This summoning


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image requires no food or care yet can carry all of those sacks so that we arent

burdened in combat. And it was at that moment that I really began to appreciate

that even though the warlock was right, he was very, very, veryannoying.

The baron agreed to the warlocks plan, and we walked off, Crianas mounted,

into Elwynn forest. Kalendrian shifted once more into his feline form and darted off

into the woods ahead of us. I would occasionally catch glimpses of him between

trees, always slightly ahead of us on the path. Nothing much happened as we

traveled from Stormwind to Goldshire, Goldshire east to the lumber camps, and

from there into the rocky, red area south of Lakeshire. It was in the inn there that we

spent our last night in the safety and decency of Stormwinds lands.

Morning broke, and after a brief swim in Lake Everstill, I rejoined my four

companions in the inn, where we dressed and prepared for the days travel. Once

again, Crianas mounted his demonic steed, a fact that again seemed to bother the

Baron, and we quietly set out from Lakeshire. The magistrate of the town there

warned us of orcish raiding parties that would occasionally venture out from

Stonewatch Keep, which had been captured by the Blackrock Clan. He stated that

they should be no trouble for soldiers of our caliber, however, and I guess the orcs

thought the same. I spotted a few scouts along our way, but none of them ever

challenged us, or even got close. However, they might not have had a chance

Kalendrian was moving silently ahead of us once again, and when he rejoined us

four at the north end of Redridge, I saw blood on his claws.

Between Redridge and the ashen Steppes themselves, there is a large,

broken gate that dates from the orcish occupation. Our group paused there for a

moment to catch some breath this was the point that danger really began for our


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expedition. Cautiously we approached the gate, when suddenly Kalendrian reverted

to an elf and halted us. He peered around the corner, then motioned for Crianas to

approach. Crianas made some arcane motions with his hands, and a green orb

appeared before him. He closed his eyes, and a pupil appeared to impossibly open

on the orb before it sped ahead, floating in midair, and looked past the doorway.

The orb disappeared, and Crianas opened his eyes again and dismounted. I arched

a brow at him.

Elementals, he said quietly. Purple geometric light channeled about him for

a few seconds, and then a shape grew from a shadow at his feet into a fully-fledged

Voidwalker. Sprit and Kalendrian snuck to the other side of the doorway. He turned

to the Baron, who nodded, and I drew my sword and shield. The Baron and I each

pressed our backs against the heavy gate, prepared to turn and attack. However,

Crianas just strode forward out the gate, and with a word in Demonic and a wave of

his hands, his Voidwalker charged ahead.

Sighing, I turned the corner and saw three rock beings on a narrow bridge

over a flow of lava. One earth elemental suddenly turned ethereal and greenish, its

movement halting as it seemed to shimmer halfway out of existence. Two more

charged at us. The Voidwalker intercepted one, and the two beings began swiping

and swinging at each other. I charged the other rock form and deflected one large

stony fist with my shield. Kalendrian suddenly sprung from the side and pounced

on the jumble of rocks so hard that it fell into the flow of lava, and the druid leapt to

shore. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other attacker blasted into chunks by

combined shadow and frost attacks, and I quickly sheathed my sword and shield

and drew my spear. My opponent seemed stuck in the lava flow, and began to glow

red. I twirled my spear once and drove it hard into the elemental, and the blade


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plunged into the melting rock. The burning eyes of the elemental went dark, and its

limbs stilled, and I withdrew the spear. I heard a sigh, and Sprit materialized out of

nowhere at my side. I didnt get to do anything, she lamented.

We turned to the third, banished opponent, who still appeared enraged at us

from whatever dimension hed been forced into. When he rematerialized, a blast of

magic from the druid, warlock, and mage forced him off the other side of the bridge

and into the lava, where he lay trapped like his companion. Baron Krestan turned to

the gnome. Would you do the honors? he asked, and with a flourish Sprit hurled a

throwing knife right between the eyes of the construct, which then stilled.

The Baron clapped. A good showing, everyone. Shall we continue?


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Chapter 3: The First to Fall

We continued our march into the blighted lands of the Burning Steppes.

Kalendrian once again assumed his cat shape and scouted ahead for us, while Sprit

silently brought up the rear. Crianas continued, mounted, with the Baron and myself

at his side. Crianas listed in a monotone voice various facts about the region its

formation when the Dark Iron dwarves summoned Ragnaros, its current occupation

by said dwarves, Blackrock Orcs, and black dragons, and the war between the

forces.

And its those dwarves that we come to fight now, the baron added. As a

service to our allies in Ironforge and the Alliance as a whole.

We continued on a northward path. The Baron stated that we would not be

stopping at Morgans Vigil, the Alliance encampment to the east. Instead, we would

bear north for the dwarven ruins, and then west toward Blackrock Mountain itself.

Crianas and Sprit stated that they had been on excursions into the mountain before.

When the subject of why each of us was personally here, Crianas even made a

startling admission.

Once, the dwarves here managed to defeat and capture me. My link to

House Blackstone made them want to ransom me, but a group of Horde travelers

graciously broke me out of the prisons in the mountain and spared me after that. So

when this opportunity for vengeance presented itself, I was quick to act.

We made a camp in the shadow of Dreadmaul rock, to the northeast, to relax

for the night. The baron started a fire, and we unpacked some dried meats and

unleavened bread from our packs. Isnt even anywhere good here to fish, Sprit

lamented. The brimstone taste in the air permeated the food, and everyone but


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Baron Krestan seemed miserable. He happily munched on the bland food while the

rest of us glowered. Crianas, predictably, turned his gloom on the Baron.

So. That armor. Military issue, correct? Did you serve, or just want to dress

like a war hero? he asked smugly between bites.

Krestan smiled without hint of venom and replied, No, Im afraid I have no

military decorations to my name. I was awarded this armor, however, in recognition

of the skill with magic I learned in Dalaran.

This last point seemed to flip a switch in the warlocks brain, and for a reason

I wouldnt understand until much later, he began staring at the Barons hands.

Now, however, the venom came out. What about your gruesome armor?

the baron asked. The skulls on the shoulders did you get those yourself, or just

pay someone to look spooky?

Myself. Drakes, Crianas replied.

I thought so. What dragonflight? the Baron probed, a shadow seeming to

fall over his face.

The warlock twitched slightly, and paused before answering. Red, he said.

An unsettling silence fell over the camp, so I volunteered some information. I

made this armor myself, I offered a bit awkwardly, and the conversation continued,

but with a much more subdued tone.

We retired early that night, with Crianas volunteering to stand watch, and I

offered to take the early morning hours. I rose at around one and relieved him, and

proceeded to stare into the maw of that ashen land for hours until the rest awoke

with the hazy dawn. The baron stated that we should probably leave the camp as it

was travelers here were rare, and the dwarves would likely not track us, if we did

things right elimination of stragglers was Sprits task. Since we were also no more


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than a day from the supplies of Redridge, we left our packs and proceeded only with

armor and weapons.

We proceeded northwest until Kalendrian stopped us, and we looked out to

barely notice the ruins in the distance. Various dwarven agents worked amidst the

ruins, and employed golems for manual labor. Crianas summoned a succubus

without a word, a creature that promptly disappeared. I drew my spear as

Kalendrian and Sprit leapt ahead toward the city, and Crianas, Baron Krestan, and I

strode toward the destroyed city of Thaurissan.

One dwarf was patrolling the outskirts of the area. Crianass succubus faded

into visibility ahead of him, and with a wave of her arms, he was entranced. He

slowly stepped toward this new form until with a lightning-quick movement, Sprit

slit his throat before jogging off into the shadows once more. The succubus

vanished and the corpse was the only evidence remaining. We continued on into

what had probably been some kind of plaza. Dwarves were around the edges, but

none had seemed to see us. The Baron strode out into an empty area, and began to

yell.

Flee to your caverns, cowardly dwarves, for your doom has arrived! he

proclaimed, and began channeling something. The dwarves seemed to stare for a

moment in disbelief until a column of flame erupted beneath three of them and

incinerated them all.

A moment later, a blast of shadow energy from our warlock slammed into the

gut of one of the golems, making it stumble and fall back onto the ground with a

crash, motionless. Another dwarf screamed as Sprit buried a dagger between his

shoulder blades and tackled him. Two more dwarves turned toward her as I ran

toward her position, and several others pulled out rifles and began firing at me. I


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charged one dwarf and brought the point of my spear down across his chest, then

spun and slashed his neighbor before he could hurl a fireball my way. However, a

sharp burning sensation still tore through my shoulder, and I turned to see another

mage immolated by the Baron. A cool refreshing wave of healing washed through

me, and I mentally thanked Kalendrian before sprinting after my next target.

The noise attracted more comers, and before long, the ground was littered

with the bodies of dwarves and broken golems. Those stone creations gave our

blades and claws trouble, but Crianas and Baron Krestan consistently blasted them

into the earth. The Baron seemed to almost be having fun, cackling when his and

Crianass ranged attacks, plus Sprits seemingly random and terrifying

assassinations, caused near panic among the remaining Dark Irons. When the

Baron, Crianas, and I strode around the corner and bore down on the last line of

defense, the remaining enemies fled toward the mountain. Sprit and Kalendrian

each dropped one more as they ran, and we returned to our campsite.

We chatted and joked with each other after ensuring ourselves of our health,

and went to bed early. The Baron and Kalendrian took up watch duty, and the rest of

us had a good nights sleep recuperating from the battle. I awoke around dawn to

find Crianas eating some of the food wed brought along, and the Baron

meditating. Kalendrian was curled up in that particular feline way resting, so I

scratched him behind the ears as I passed. He gave me an irked look that I think no

natural cat could pull off and went back to his rest. Sprit emerged from her tent with

her pet mechanical squirrel. She told me that it was named Boo, and Crianas had

added sarcastically that it was called that because it scared off all Sprits suitors. I

hate you, Cri, Sprit responded, and began chomping on her morning meal.


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Baron Krestan joined us after a few minutes and stated that wed be moving

our camp farther west today. However, due to the presence of Blackrock orcs on

either side of the road, wed likely have to fight as we went. We loaded our

provisions on Crianass dreadsteed and began the long march west toward

Blackrock Mountain.

I walked with my spear, ready for orcs to give us trouble. Sprit and Kalendrian

both moved ahead of the rest of us, and wed occasionally hear the sounds of

combat and come across the body of an orc on the road. Unfortunately, it would

seem that someone amongst the Blackrocks noticed these absences.

We stopped at one point to reload the steed, as some of the packs had come

loose. All of our party's attention, save for Sprit and Kalendrian ahead, was on the

horse, and when we turned back to the road, eight orcs blocked our way. They

howled, and more howls joined in from a hillside to our left, where five

shadowcasters stood.

The Baron frowned, but Crianas simply strode a couple of steps ahead.

Funny, he said, how these Blackrocks think they know how dark magic works.

His hands began to glow black, and the orcs on the hillside began channeling spells.

The eight warriors ahead of us charged. Deal with those eight, Crianas said, and I

would have rolled my eyes if I wasnt staring at the attackers. The Baron turned and

blasted one orc with a quick burst of flame, and he fell. I pulled my shield and blade

from my back and charged at another, slamming my bulwark into his face before he

could swing his weapon. The other fighters began to converge on me, and I quickly

retreated beneath withering blows. I felt the ground shake and nearly lost my

footing when the attack continued. One swipe glanced off my helm, another slashed

at my shield, but a third went low and caught my bad leg. Another orc howled in


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fiery misery, but I stumbled back and fell beneath my shield. One orc ran past me

toward the Baron, but two of the warriors ran to me, about to finish me off, when a

giant, fiery stone arm caught them and hurled them away from my fallen form.

Amazed, I watched the infernal, demon of rock and flame, storm the remaining orcs,

who immediately attacked it even as its internal heat seared them and it attempted

to pound them into submission.

When Crianas had summoned the behemoth, it landed squarely on top of

three of the orcs on the hillside, blasting them to bits. The other two had been

wounded and stunned, and the warlock magically scared off one while he and the

other traded shadow magic volleys. Now the human was on one knee, left arm

extended with a greenish tendril of energy being pulled from the orc, who continued

firing shadowbolts at his opponent.Where in Azeroth are Sprit and that blasted

druid? he asked, his voice trailing off until both he and his opponent collapsed,

motionless. In the meantime, the other spellcaster had recovered and run back

toward our battle site, where his magical assaults, combined with the blades of his

allies, finally toppled the mighty infernal, and it fell to the ground as merely a pile of

blackened stones, crushing one Blackrock beneath it. I slowly got to my feet once

more to see two orcish warriors remaining. With a painful sprint and a diving tackle I

cut one down, and a mixed barrage of fire and frost attacks from Baron Krestan

defeated the other. The remaining spellcaster ran toward us until suddenly a dark

sigil of a skull appeared above his head and he dropped to his knees in what

appeared to be terrible pain. The Baron and I turned to watch him writhe and howl

until even I could stand no more and walked over to finish him off with a quick jab

from my spear.


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See Crianas said, with a cough, as he shakily rose to his feet. Told you I

could handle the spellcasters.

I bandaged the warlock carefully. He was bleeding heavily from his right side,

and that side of his face was also discolored bruised, but also seemingly webbed

with black lines, a side effect of the shadow magic. He made a sort of hood and

mask from his cloak and joined me in walking onward once more. The baron had

gone ahead to look for Sprit and Kalendrian, and we soon came upon all three of

them, surrounded by five or six more orc bodies.

Sprit, wounded herself, was trying to bandage Kalendrian as the Baron kept

watch for any more attackers. The feline lay in an unnatural position on the side of

the road, soaked with blood that appeared to be from multiple sources. He did not

appear to have the energy needed to shift back to elven form and heal himself.

Crianas and I just stared for a moment, feeling helpless as the druid lay dying.

The warlock quietly strode forward, kneeling before Boughwhisper and

placing his hand on the cats paw. The cat stared back into Crianass eyes until

Crianas turned away and walked back toward the Baron and I. Sprit came up behind

him.

Well, theres only one option left, the warlock said, as his hand began to

glow black. Sprit nodded and the Baron turned away, but I felt compelled to watch

as Crianas turned and nonchalantly fired a shadowbolt into the druids forehead.

The cat seized, and was still, then slowly reverted to an elf.


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Chapter 4: Revelations

Silence fell upon the steppes for a few moments. Crianas began walking back

toward his horse and its packs, a neutral look on his face as if he hadnt just put a

Kaldorei out of his misery. Sprit followed, also seeming somewhat cheery, given the

circumstances. I turned, irate.

At least be respectful and have a moment of silence for our companion, I

said, unable to contain myself.

The warlock turned back to me, looking confused. What are you talking

about? he asked. I suddenly heard a tone, as if a large bell had rung, and swiveled

to see a blast of violet light shoot skyward from the elfs body, and I heard a cough.

Kalendrian gagged for a moment, then began breathing. He then suddenly sat up

and produced a round, purple stone in his hand. He looked up at Crianas, who

simply nodded, turned back toward the dreadsteed, and said, You owe me one.

The baron clapped. A soulstone! Wonderful. Utterly wonderful. Come, lets

get out of these orc infested lands.

I stood, still bewildered, but then followed the others back toward the horse.

Crianas mounted up, and we began moving west once more.

With Sprit exhausted and Kalendrian still not up to full strength, we traveled

in a group from that point on. We came across a couple of orcs, but Crianas simply

made them run screaming while his dark magic wore them down to nothing,

siphoning energy from them the whole time, until by the time we left the orc

territory behind, he looked to be in much better shape. He also continually conjured

healthstones for us, handing one out to each of us periodically, stating that any

higher dosage could be severely harmful.


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Why? I asked.

He looked at me as if I was a child. Because these are made from soul

shards, he said condescendingly. Theres an awful lot of wrath within one of these

things, and if

What?I said. Soul shards?

Yes, soul shards. Are you really that ignorant about magic? Heres more

news Kalendrian here follows the teachings of Cenarius, and tauren shamans

serve the elements.

I handed back the stone hed recently given to me. In that case, Ill pass.

The warlock rolled his eyes. Fine, your call. If you get killed out there, dont

come crying to me.

Somewhat taken aback, I turned to the druid. Kalendrian, how can you put

up with this?

The cat reformed as a night elf. The way I figure it, there are two possible

sources for these stones. Perhaps this man has only slain those that deserve it,

deriving these shards from demons and satyr, silithid and orcs. In that case, this

treatment of using them as nourishment is just.

Crianas grinned unbearably down at me.

Otherwise, it is entirely possible that this warlock is out killing keepers of the

grove for these things, Kalendrian said. Crianas turned and glared at the druid, and

Kalendrian smiled a wry smile. I wouldnt put it past him. In that case, it is prudent

that we use these remnants of their spirit to heal, to nourish, and thus give them

back to nature.

Crianas turned and faced forward, and said nothing else for a while. Sprit

giggled at his misfortune, and he shot a look at her, but he seemed to have lost his


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unspeakable words running diagonally across his body. They werent scars so much

as tattoos, and not tattoos so much as runes it was odd. Unnatural. And for the

first time that I had ever seen, the warlock almost looked ashamed. The Baron

didnt seem to notice his unusual behavior, though Sprit had. After the meal, she

volunteered to take the first watch, and Crianas instantly, and insistently, said hed

take the second. We agreed and retired to our tents.

Troubling thoughts overtook me as I lay trying to sleep. Crianas was a

pompous jackass, but hed been overconfident enough when we took on the orcs

earlier that day. Now he was a wreck. What could be bothering him so much about a

near miss when the Baron was attacked earlier? I tried to quell these fears and trust

in the Light to lead the way, but the ashen, barren landscape had seemed lightless

for so long. I eventually fell asleep out of physical necessity.

I was awakened in the middle of the night, however, by a gnome tugging at

me. Sprit held one finger to her mouth, then pointed at my armor. Confused, I went

to speak, but she shushed me. She simply pointed at my armor once more, looked

at me sternly, then disappeared out of the tent. So I donned my armor as quietly as

I could, picked up my spear, sword and shield, and slowly clambered out of the tent.

I saw the outline of the gnome on a crag a short ways away, and tiptoed as best I

could toward her. Past the ridge, I saw Crianas standing a ways away, staring off

into nothingness. I approached, and noticed a dark panther brush against me. Sprit

came up behind me, still nearly invisible in the inky blackness.

Kalendrian assumed his elven form, and Crianas turned around to face us.

Lady and gentlemen, we have a severe problem, he said. Have any of you

noticed anything unusual about our trip?

Like what? I asked.


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What have we been carrying with us this entire time? Crianas asked.

Armor and food, Sprit answered.

And why in the Nether should we need to carry food when we have a mage

that should be able to conjure food and water?

Perhaps he did not learn those spells when he trained, Kalendrian offered.

Crianas shook his head. Thats basic stuff that any mage that trains in

Dalaran learns. Id know, I grew up there. And the Baron claims to have been

educated there.

How exactly does that put us in danger? Sprit asked.

The Baron has a reason to lie about his past. To fabricate it.

Maybe he just wants to impress us, the gnome said sarcastically.

Hes too straightforward for that. We all know it, Crianas countered.

What are you getting at? Kalendrian asked.

Why doesnt the Baron have a cut on his arm? Crianas asked, dodging the

druid.

The swing must have missed his flesh and just torn his robes, I said.

The warlock once again shook his head. I saw the whole thing. That strike hit

his arm straight on. And yet theres no scar or blood, and neither my healthstones

nor the druids magic was applied.

What are you saying, Cri, that the Barons an extra-powerful mage? Sprit

asked.

Seems like it. More importantly, hes hiding it. If hes strong enough to mend

wounds like that, hes probably strong enough to level that entire force of orcs sent

after us with one magical blow. And yet he didnt, he held back and nearly let us all

be killed.


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I still dont follow you, Kalendrian said, starting to look irritated. Id be glad

to have a stronger ally in a place like this. He might just be saving energy.

No. We are all in incredible danger. I think that it is vitally important that we

not proceed into Blackrock tomorrow, Crianas said.

We all should be fully healed, assuming that our stalwart defender here feels

okay, Kalendrian said, gesturing toward me. I feel fine, and you have too much

pride to delay us for your sake.

Im not worried about the dwarves in there, Crianas replied.

Then what, the Horde? Youre worried about Rend Blackhands collection of

trolls and orcs?

No, dammit, Im not worried about anything inside the mountain. Im worried

about whats out here! Or more precisely, whats not.

What are you talking about? Sprit asked. Weve run into Blackrocks and

Dark Irons, seen ogres and scorpid from afar.

Yes, weve dealt with dwarves and orcs, but what haventwe faced?

I dont understand, I said, feeling incompetent.

Our path has been far too clear, Crianas said, then paled as he looked over

my head. I turned to see a human shape contoured on the ridge behind us, and

knew the baron was approaching.

Kalendrian, you know a hibernation spell, correct? Crianas asked.

Yeah, but it only works on beasts, he said. Why does

Cast it on the Baron now, Crianas ordered.

What are you talking about?!

It bothers me to see my four companions keeping secrets from me, the

baron said, looking irritated as he swiftly walked toward us.


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If it doesnt work, it doesnt work. Theres no time to waste, cast it or were

all dead! the demonologist said, irate.

Dont order me around, human, Im not your servant! Kalendrian snarled.

Now! Crianas howled. Hes been clearing the path for us, hes been

keeping his allies out of our way, and

The warlocks words were cut off by a runic symbol over his mouth, and he

could no longer speak. Baron Krestan held a glowing hand out, nearly running

toward us. What is the meaning of this treason? he demanded, and glared at me

intensely. I took a step back and began to open my mouth when suddenly the

Barons face soften, and his head fell forward to loll in front of him as he stood,

motionless.

I swiveled to see that Kalendrian had, indeed, cast the hibernation spell. A

look of puzzlement was on his face. I I dont understand. Hibernation only affects

beasts, he said.

Crianas could still not speak, but he looked extremely worried. A look of fear

also came across Sprits face.

And dragons, she said.


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Chapter Five: Journeys End

Having finally regained his voice, Crianas spoke softly. Well, he knows. Its

too late to run now. Kalendrian, channel that spell, try to keep him out as long as

possible.

The three forces in the Burning Steppes are Dark Iron dwarves, Blackrock

orcs, and the black dragonflight, I stated. I guess Im the last to figure things out.

Dont worry about it, human, Kalendrian said. If hes black, is that why you

told him your pauldrons were from the red?

Nah, Crianas said. That was luck. I was lying, I found these pauldrons up in

the plaguelands. Im not a tailor, Im an alchemist. And with that, he tossed me a

vial, which I immediately drank unquestioningly. Fire resistance, Crianas said. No

time to make more, Im afraid.

The baron was beginning to stir in his sleep, and suddenly broke free of the

spell and silenced Kalendrian before he could re-cast it. Crianas tossed him a vial of

yellow liquid.

So. You little brats have discovered my secret. Ill have to go call back the

servants that I had hide away so that we could reach the mountain. He turned to

leave when thick, thorny roots burst out of the ground and entwined themselves

around him.

Purification potion, Crianas said.

Youre not going anywhere, dragon, Kalendrian said. I dont care how good

of a mage you are, well be escorting you back to Stormwind.

Krestan snorted. You think your pathetic roots can hold me?! he asked, his

voice shifting up and down in pitch. His body began to glow, and he suddenly


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started morphing and gaining in size. The roots snapped around him as he grew. I

sensed Crianas summoning a demon behind me, but stared at Baron Krestan as he

grew, and grew, and grew, and when the glow stopped, a monstrous black dragon

stood before us. Forty feet long if he was an inch, he stretched his wings and reared

on his hind legs for a moment before slamming down before us.

Well, if Im not allowed to leave, he said, Ill just kill you all myself.

He raised one massive claw, a fire spell channeling around it, when I heard a

snarl from behind me. Crianass felhunter charged forward and silenced the dragon

the same way the dragon had silenced Kalendrian. Undaunted, he charged ahead,

and I was all that stood between him and the rest of the group. I lifted my shield,

held my spear in one hand, and braced myself for his attack. He raised his claw to

swing when he suddenly curled back, howling, from some attack that I could not

see. With a kick from his two hind legs, he launched himself into the air, where a

shadow bolt from Crianas hit him in the shoulder. The warlock seemed livid, and

issued a constant stream of words in what I can only assume was demonic the

entire time he cast. Whether for power or simple stress relief, I do not know.

Raka melar nakrazoth ereduanar sanledag trophanor werklag malsanoth!

he cried, hurling shadowbolt after shadowbolt at our foe as he circled skyward.

Some hit, many missed. A skull sigil appeared above the dragons head and I

watched his scales begin to shimmer as shadow energy coursed over them.

When the dragon turned so that we could see his back, we saw the source of

his torment. Sprit had managed to sneak onto Krestans back and was burying her

daggers into it at intervals up the length of his spine. The dragon snaked and curled

in midair, trying to shake off the gnome or burn it with his fiery breath, but could not

succeed. We watched the dragon fly higher and higher, until Crianass spells could


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not reach it and we could barely see the beast. When he was nearly invisible to the

naked eye, he suddenly turned and dove, racing downward in what seemed like an

attempt to catch a falling black speck. That speck gradually formed into Sprit,

calmly diving downward. My jaw hung slack as I braced for her fatal impact, but

suddenly she pulled on her cape and it bloomed, forming a large patch of cloth that

slowed her descent significantly.

Unfortunately, it was when she did this that the baron caught her, and with

one quick dive, breathed vicious fire at Sprit. The parachute went up in flames, and

Sprit fell uncontrollably down. She was still too high, and I stared as she plummeted

and hit the ground with a sickening thudand Sprit Spritetoggle the Second moved

no more.

The baron charged at us again, and I moved to keep myself between him and

my two remaining companions. I heard a feline roar and watched Kalendrian

suddenly dart away, running past the dragon and between its legs. Our enemy

roared in insult, and started to turn to chase the druid when I charged in, taking my

spear in both hands and with one strong stroke slicing through the scales of his hind

left leg and deep into the muscle below. He howled and turned, and a vicious

looking fireball smashed into the point where Krestans left wing met his shoulder.

Krestan shot a wreath of flame at me, but I shrugged it off from behind my armor

and shield. When his claw came after, I braced myself and caught it against my

shield, jabbing my spear into it at the same time. The point penetrated between his

talons, but the strength of his blow swept me aside. I barely maintained my footing

after dropping the spear, and he hurled the weapon out of reach. Reluctantly, I drew

my sword and stood in front of him again.


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A blast of green light appeared behind my enemy, but I had no time to

investigate. I dodged a swipe from his other claw, ran beneath him, and slashed

upward with my sword. He tried to rear up and away, but the tip of my sword still

drew blood in a line across his torso. The dragon slashed again and knocked me to

the ground, then grabbed me with his unhurt claw. He began to squeeze me, and I

felt his talons puncture my armor, the armor I created myself. Despair gripped me

as I began to feel useless and weak. I watched spell after spell of Crianass slam into

the dragon, and suddenly heard a high pitched battle cry, and a miraculously

revived Sprit sprinted up Krestans back and jabbed both daggers into the dragons

neck. He released me with a cry of pain, and I fell to the ground, unable to feel my

right side. It was then that a warm green light enveloped me, and I felt my wounds

begin to close. I could see Kalendrian on a nearby ridge channeling healing spells at

me. Renewed, I struggled to my feet once more. The dragon breathed a torrent of

fire toward me, but I pressed on through it toward his maw. I felt my armor heat,

begin to burn my skin, but continued. Kalendrian continued mending me through

my progress forward, and I raised my sword when the Baron suddenly twisted his

neck and bit down into me, clamping his teeth into my body and hoisting me into

the air.

I lost the feeling in my side, in my legs. My shield fell from my arm onto the

ground. Kalendrian continued trying to heal me, but I knew he could do no good. My

head swam in the sounds of the battle around me. I heard my ribs crack, and

suddenly thought of my skeleton, when a moment of clarity pierced my deathly

haze.

I pictured my skull on the top of my skeleton, and that image in my head

linked with another, the place I had seen skulls recently: Crianass mantle.


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The skull is hollow, I thought. I felt a shadowbolt hit the dragons head,

causing a respite in the dragons attempt to crush me. My mind focused on the

image of the skull, and I realized that the warlocks armor only had the top half of a

drakes skull on it. Without its lower jaw, there was no protection from below.

I summoned every bit of strength I had remaining. The Baron continued

trying to chew through my armor, and though only seconds had passed, it felt like

years. I slowly pulled my sword to my body, and with my last ounce of strength, I

called upon the Light to help me do my job to protect my companions, to protect

Stormwind, to protect Azeroth. Clutching my blade in both hands, I thrust it upward

through the dragons soft pallet. His vice grip on my body loosened slightly, and I

felt his head and my body falling, falling, falling toward the ground. Everything went

dark, and I never hit the earth.

I awoke what felt like six lifetimes later. Near silence greeted me, with only

the sound of a soft wind reaching my ears.Am I healing in Northshire? I thought. Its

too quiet to be Stormwind. I tried to open my eyes, but could see nothing but dark

shades of the same color. My vision was blurry. I moved one hand in front of my

face, and it appeared hazy and pale. I tried to stumble to my feet, and realized that

my bad leg no longer felt injured. My vision began to clarify, and I realized that I was

still, terrifyingly, inside the dragons maw. I panicked, and tried to pry it open with

some newfound strength, but realized my hands were passing right through his

jaw. I stepped backward, and my field of vision passed directly through his snout,

and I was suddenly staring at his face. His eyes were clouded, and he was clearly

dead. And then, in a moment of complete surrealism, I saw my own body inside his

mouth.


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I tried to vomit, but nothing came. After retching, I stood, and prepared to

accept that I was now a wandering spirit. I looked upward to see an unfathomable

void swirling endlessly into the sky. I quickly turned away from that horrifying sight,

and saw the hazy forms of Crianas, Sprit, and Kalendrian standing before the

dragon. They talked quietly, and all appeared sad even Crianas. I could not hear

what they said, however, merely snippets of words that felt like they washed, like

waves, into my ears.

Rebirhisstimelate, Kalendrian said.

I wanted to cry, to scream, but felt strangely devoid of emotion. The gray,

phantom forms of Crianas and Kalendrian began to argue, whereas Sprit simply

shook, seemingly terrified with her near-death experience. The druid gestured

toward the dragons mouth, and my physical form, looking disgusted. The warlock

pointed at Krestans remains, then at the distant southern hills, looking at the druid

like one does a misbehaving child. I could no longer hear what either said. The

argument eventually ceased, however. Crianas summoned his horse and began to

head back to the east. Kalendrian and Sprit slowly turned and began to walk away.

Sprit picked up my shield from where it had fallen, and I wished shed return it to

my parents in Southshore.

I was depressed, at first, that they did nothing for my body, but I realized that

if they lingered to bury me, the other dragonkin may return I eventually realized

that my remains must have been the subject of the warlock and druids argument.

Besides, being dead had an effect on me in that things like my little corporeal form

werent important. I was glad just that my comrades were safe, that I had in some

way accomplished my task. I had defended the kingdom, slain the dragon, lived up


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to the tradition of the heroes of myths and folk tales. I hoped that my acceptance

would help me depart this world for whatever comes next, but my relative internal

peace did no good in that regard.

The next day, dragonkin indeed returned from the hills, and took the body of

Baron Krestan away. I could not bear to follow, to watch my own body be eaten or

burned or worse by those beasts, so I remained. I still dont know what happened to

me.

So, I lingered. I couldnt count how many days I paced around that blighted

land. I think that if I had been alive, the boredom would have driven me crazy, but I

had nowhere to be and plenty of time to get there, so it was less pressing on my

mind. I gradually realized that my form was becoming brighter, and that I might

even be visible to the living soon. I also tried to talk, and noticed that I heard

echoes of my voice in the same tidal, intermittent way that I had when Kalendrian

spoke. I thought that fact promising, and began to spend time close to the road

through the area in hopes of finding someone. And as luck would have it, it would

only be two days before I did.

I began to pace closer to the entrance to Blackrock Mountain, and one day I

encountered an elf riding a nightsaber toward the mountain. I drifted ahead of him

and tried to will myself visible, which must have worked. I watched the elf do a

double take, then halt his cat to stare. It was only when he stopped moving that we

stared at each other and recognized one another. His hair was longer, and he had

an eye patch now, but through the immense powers of luck, or fate, this was most

assuredly Kalendrian Boughwhisper. His eyes went wide and his jaw slack when he

saw my spirit standing before him.


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Two weeks later and here we all are again, minus the Baron, of course.

Kalendrian has an eye patch now, and white armor with antlers Im not sure I

believe some of the tales that hes told me about the Dark Portal reopening and the

return to Draenor. Crianass hair is a bit lighter, and his armor has gone from purple

to teal, with floating spikes above his shoulders and little sparks of lightning around

his head. Hes no less intimidating, though, or distant, though I havent yet seen

him argue with Kalendrian. He stands now, scribbling down my words, looking up at

me with a smirk as I say this. Sprit looks much the same as she did, but her black

leather armor has a blue tinge to it now, and her goggles are even more ornate.

Her squirrel looks a little worn, but loved. She stands beside Crianas, tinkering

away at something else, smiling at me.

Ive told them my story to give to my parents and those at the cathedral, and

that Crianas may publish it if he wants. Crianas says that he has no idea why my

spirit has lingered here for so long. Kalendrian thinks that perhaps its this very

narration that the fates have waited for before I finally rest that my story is why I

linger. So I stand here, saying my goodbyes to these comrades from the most

significant battle of my life. Crianas voraciously records every single one of my

words in a tome hes brought for the occasion, saying that he will write every

sentence until I say no more. I am struck by an odd feeling: that once this tale is

finished, maybe at the end of this very sentence, I may move on from this world

forever.

the tale of baron hector krestan

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