The Search for Redemption

“That girl would try the patience of Elune herself!” Bjorke flung herself into a chair in Sven’s chamber.

“Now, lass, she’s jus’ a wee girl… She’s no’ tha’ bad…” Clearly, the dwarf doted on Mabon.

“Sven! She will not stay put! My men are taxed to the end trying to keep up with her. She thinks it’s a great game, hide and seek with holy knights! The closer they get to her, the harder she pushes away. Has she a sane thought in her head?” This last remark sent Sven into spasms of laughter.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Sven lowered his voice. “Ye’ve go’ t’ do summit, Bjorke. Time is runnin’ out. Ah have confidence in ya. Ah kno’ ye’ll figure it out.”

Complicating matters was a young holy knight – Azzure Keeshan, put in charge of Stenholm’s disciples to watch over Mabon. Bjorke had warned him off as soon as  she tracked him down, but he continued to personally visit the girl. Coming from a sheltered life as she had, it was obvious that the first man to show any kindness to her would put stars in the girl’s eyes.

Bjorke returned to her apartments,  and spent the night pacing the floor. By the time dawn came to Stormwind, Bjorke had a plan.

Bjorke edged behind the tall, white-haired man, and slipped her fingers clumsily towards his coin purse. “Ahem,” came a booming voice. “If you value your fingers, lass, you’d best remove them from me.”

“Oh, excuse me, sir, I didn’t see you there.” He turned to face her, and she flashed Garnil Thunderman her best smile, her eyes twinkling. Tilting her head, she said, “She was right. You are … dashing.”

Puzzlement swept over his face, and he asked, “Who do you mean, lass?”

“Mabon Lightpath. She said you might be looking for recruits.”

“Ah, lass, any friend of Mabon’s is welcome in Sterling Guild. However,” he said, drawing himself up to full height and lowering his brows at her, “you’ll need to keep your fingers to yourself, from now on.”
Piece of cake, thought Bjorke.

Bjorke entered the stone house at Gavin’s Brae the same way each time: through the window at the back of the house. Not out of a need for secrecy, but because it annoyed Sven when she did. Silently, she made her way through the house until she reached a small room on the top floor. She opened the door without knocking, and was greeted by a loud “Hullo, Bjorke. Great to see ya!” As usual, the dwarf was expecting her. Sveghadhan Longbeard, “Sven” to his friends, was drunk. “Hello, Sven,” Bjorke replied, helping herself to a tankard of stout from the keg in the corner, a fixture of the room. She settled her lean frame into a chair, and propped her boots on the desk. Bjorke didn’t recall ever seeing the man sober, but with Sven, it was hard to tell. “You wanted to see me?” Read the rest of this entry »