The Search for Redemption

After leaving Darnassus, she had headed for the Blue Recluse pub in Stormwind. She had sat at the table under the stairs, drinking heavily, staring at the scratches in the table Rileno’s armor had made, long enough ago that they blended into the other marks. Then, she headed to the Burning Steppes and started fighting. Ogres, Black Iron Dwarves, dragons, anything that got in her way was slaughtered. Her blades flashed in the hot sunlight. She didn’t bother to stop to bandage herself, or eat or drink, fueled by the rage inside herself.

A young blood elf was in the area, hunting dragons. A large drake bore down on him, and Bjorke jumped into the fray, slashing away until it lay dead at her feet. The bloodlust still in her, she whirled on the elf and killed him, before he had a chance to defend himself. Bjorke looked down at his young face, his blonde hair sticking out from under his helm, and he reminded her of Rileno. Realizing what she had done, she turned away, overcome with nausea, and vomited. Read the rest of this entry »

Bjorke headed up to the loft in Darnassus once more. She needed help, and she needed it from the person least likely to offer it. Perhaps Mabon could persuade her mother, though. Taking a deep breath, Bjorke knocked on the door, quietly, in case the whelps were sleeping.

Mabon greeted her with a hug, which Bjorke returned stiffly. “This certainly is an unexpected surprise! How lovely to see you!”

“Yeah, er, well. I came to see Aelsa. Do you think she will talk to me?” Bjorke’s brow furrowed as she looked at Mabon. Read the rest of this entry »

Sitting at her usual table in the Pig & Whistle, Bjorke examined the small box, the one she had removed from Sven’s pocket. It opened as an ordinary snuffbox, but instead of snuff, it held pipe tobacco. Plain, ordinary pipe tobacco. Bjorke had dumped that out, and looked at the box itself. The lid was ornate metal, with a slight pyramidal shape. Since the inside of the lid was flat, that left a space inside. But the riddle of how to access it remained. If she simply pulled the metal off, there was an excellent chance that whatever was inside would be destroyed by a safeguard trap.

Her experienced, nimble fingers told her there were no catches or buttons or sliding panels to open. Bjorke put the box down, and sighed, reaching for her tankard, as yet untouched. Well, no, not completely untouched. Bjorke shooed her rat, Bourbon, away from the drink. He stared at her reproachfully, then set to grooming the liquor off his whiskers. Gulping down half the bourbon, thought back over what she knew. Not much. A note in Rileno’s hand had been found in the cage next to Mabon’s in Shadowfang Keep. Sven’s hideout had been nearby, on Fenris Isle. A wagon had been seen leaving the Keep just before dawn the day of Mabon’s rescue. A private boat had left the North Coast that night, and large bribes had been paid to keep things quiet. A boat had arrived in Rachet the next day, with several large wooden crates loaded into a wagon that headed north.

Read the rest of this entry »

Bjorke awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. The nightmares had not ended with Sven’s death. But each time now, she heard Rileno’s voice calling for help. She must find him. Trying to sit up, pain shot through her body. She gritted her teeth, rolled to her side and used her arms to push herself up. She removed her armor slowly, then bathed, checking her wounds. The stitching was holding well. Laiyne did a fine job; Bjorke may have to get the tailor to teach her some stitches. The gash showed no sign of infection, but the puncture on the other side was black from the pooled blood. The rib would take some time to heal, as she knew from experience. She wrapped her ribcage tightly with bandages, to avoid further damage.

Sitting on the bed, the cool morning air brushing over her bare skin, Bjorke set to repairing her armor. Most of her gear was fine with small repairs, but the chest piece was ruined. At least this morning’s task, while unpleasant, would not require armor. She lay back on the bed, trying to figure out what to say to the girl. Getting dressed and heading to Darnassus should be what she was doing, not laying there, avoiding the tasks. Hero pricked his ears up, and trotted to the door, cocking his head. Groaning, Bjorke reached for her pants. She was struggling with the shirt when the knock came. Read the rest of this entry »

Bjorke had her orders for her next mission. It would not be easy. In fact, she may not return, but in her current mood, that would suit her just fine. Dohom escorted her to the flight master. As they spoke, Bjorke felt a warmth trickle down her back. She put her hand to the spot, and drew it back bloody.

“You’d best get that seen to,” said Dohom.

“Yeah, it needs stitching.” Bjorke thought about who could help her with that. She was not able to reach the wound herself to sew it up. “Laiyne’s a tailor, right?”

As Bjorke headed back to Stormwind, she used the Guild Comm to contact Laiyne, and ask her if she could stitch up her wound. Laiyne was less than thrilled at the prospect, but Bjorke was persistent. She agreed, and Bjorke headed for the Pig upon arrival. She removed her armor and the bandages, then took a deep drink from her flask. “Ready.” Read the rest of this entry »

(This entry contains some imagery of graphic violence. If you are easily disturbed or offended, you may wish to skip it.)

The Guild comm. channel crackled to life. “Bjorke, whatever you are doing, be ready to travel in five minutes.” Commander Thunderman’s voice held no room for excuses or evasions.

Bjorke groaned, and pushed Sven’s body off her. She pushed herself up to sitting, gasping at the pain in her side. A short, black handle stuck out of her back, just below the rib cage.

“Bjorke!” Read the rest of this entry »

Knowing there was no way to sneak in and surprise Sven, Bjorke drew her weapons and kicked in the door. In an instant, he was on his feet and disappearing into a narrow passageway, pulling a lever as he passed. From far below in the courtyard, the sounds of metal creaking and the eerie howling of wolves and worgen sent a chill down Bjorke’s spine. She raced into the passageway, close behind the dwarf, stumbling a bit over the rough floor as it sloped downwards. Sven obviously knew the route well, and he did not slow down when it took an abrupt turn to the right, but in the dim light, Bjorke was unprepared and disoriented, and slammed into the stone wall instead of turning. She grunted, and heard Sven cackle in laughter.

She pushed herself off the wall, and started running again. By the slope of the floor, she judged they must be nearing ground level. Sure enough, the passageway leveled off and widened. She saw Sven’s silhouette as he fled from the Keep. He slammed the iron gate shut behind him, but the latch bounced, and it swung open again. She was only 20 paces or so behind him when he leapt on his mount. Whistling for hers, she kicked the “goat,” urging him to gain ground. He raced northward, into the mountains, his sure-footed ram well-suited to the terrain. Bjorke was glad she had stabled Fury for this mission, as the horse would have lost ground in the rocky mountains. Read the rest of this entry »

Syurna, the rogue trainer in Darnassus, was most helpful. She explained how the Detect Stealth traps worked, and ways to get around them using Elixirs of Camouflage. Bjorke thanked her colleague.

“I would do anything to assist young Mabon. She has become part of our community. May Elune watch over you in your journeys.” Syurna bowed low.

Bjorke stocked her bags, and headed back to the Eastern Kingdoms, to meet her guildmates. When she arrived in Menethil, she met Mystastri, a Draenei who was fairly new to the guild. They traveled together north to Hillsbrad, neither speaking much. Bjorke was deep in thought, going over her battle plans. Either the mage herself was quiet, or she could tell Bjorke didn’t want to talk. Read the rest of this entry »

Bjorke headed up to see Mathias Shaw. She knew he could be trusted, and she needed information. She didn’t dare risk a trip up to see Carlo – too many of Ravenholdt’s men were allied with Sven. Shaw suggested that Syurna, out in Darnassus, might be able to give her the assistance she needed. Shaw agreed with Bjorke that this matter needed to be handled carefully, and Darnassus was the safest place for it, far away from any factions loyal to the Dwarf.

She headed for the main square, looking around for any familiar faces. She found one – a young warlock she’d been assisting at the request of an old friend. She struck up a conversation with the woman, maneuvering her slowly closer to a crowd of people.

“So, what are you up to?” came Jez’s inevitable question.

“Oh, I have some items to get from Un’Goro. One of my best customers has placed a special order. I really could use the money.” Bjorke’s voice was just a bit louder than necessary. She looked at the sky. “I really should be going. It’s a long trip, and I’d like to be back by tonight. I have a hot date.” She grinned at her companion. Read the rest of this entry »

The sound of gurgled coughing sputtered across the guild com. channel. “…ambush… help…” Faint sounds of coughing again.

“Bjorke? That you?” Dohom asked anxiously. “Are you alright?” He was already checking the locator function to find her. “I’m on my way. Hang on.”

“I am coming, too,” came word from Stormwalker.

Bjorke lay in the grass under a bush. She could tell she was badly hurt, but had no strength to bandage herself. “Rileno…” Her thoughts turned to the man who had just put himself in harm’s way to save her. Was he still alive? Bjorke began to shiver, as the adrenaline left her system, and shock took over. She knew she must fight to stay awake and alive. Read the rest of this entry »

Tirisfal. That’s what Hogral had said, but her undead assassin friend shook his head no. Silverpine Forest. Shadowfang Keep. That’s where Sven was keeping Mabon. Bjorke paid the man a large sum of gold. The information was worth every copper. She filed another report for the Commander, and headed off for some sleep.

With Hero on guard, Bjorke knew she would not be disturbed. The nightmares plagued her, as usual, but in between, she slept deeply. When she awoke, it was nearly dusk. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs of sleep, and dressed casually. Having been in armor for two days straight, she welcomed something a bit more comfortable. Read the rest of this entry »

Exhausted, Bjorke headed back to Shattrath after a long mission in Zangarmarsh. A profitable place to be sure, but after a night of no sleep and a day full of ogres, Bjorke was ready to quit the day. Respite was not to be had, however. As soon as she reached Shattrath, the guild communication crackled to life.

“…Mabon? Are you ok?” Stormwalker’s voice was shaky with fear.

“Mabon! What of her? What has happened, Storm?” Bjorke tried to keep her voice in control. Panic would not help the young druid communicate information.

“She said something about being chased… by someone named Sven…” Read the rest of this entry »

Bjorke stood on the platform overlooking Booty Bay, growing increasingly irritated. She was not used to being kept waiting. She paced back and forth, keeping an eye on the setting sun. Irritation turned to worry. Perhaps he had been hurt, or killed. Pushing those thoughts from her head, she let the anger well up. No one kept her waiting. No one. She headed down to the Salty Sailor, avoiding the main bar. She drank deeply from her own flask, her back to the corner of the pub, not wanting any trouble, but still angry.

“He’d better be dead,” she muttered to herself, not actually believing it. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel. Normally, breaking a date would end any chance of further encounters. She had no time to waste for less-than-eager lovers. But with Ril, Bjorke found herself hoping just to run into him for a moment or two. Bjorke took another drink, but was not getting the release of tension that came with the lightheaded feeling. Sighing, she decided to turn in, and headed for her rooms in Stormwind. Read the rest of this entry »

Bjorke looked out over the edge of the Scryer’s Tier. A long way down. If a person was pushed just the right way, it would look like an accident. She looked up and noticed a night elf seated at the other side of the balcony. He looked familiar, so she approached him.

“Hello there,” Bjorke said, smiling.

The tall, white-haired elf unfolded his frame and stood up, turning to face her.

“Why, hello, Bjorke! A pleasure to see you again.” He smiled broadly at her. Read the rest of this entry »