World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

[BananaPhone]

Marion Mordis


"Looks like you brought your fair share of items. Anyway, what do you think of this place? A bit dusty and worn but a decent place provided the previous tenants didn't leave us anything. You handled yourself well on the ship. You didn't get sick, and the men didn't sweep you off your feet. "

Marion had to crane her head back to peer up at the towering troll. Hunched though he was, he still loomed above the shorter human woman.

"Upon this rock we shall build our church," she gestured to their surroundings, an implication of approval.

"However, you give me too much credit. I endured a long voyage to travel from Lordaeron to Kalimdor, so it was fortunate that I was already accustomed to both the awkward motion of the oceans, and the cheeky attitudes of sailors," she smiled.

" Well, I have a request for you. Since I probably can't do it all on my own. It's about Emelia. I've seen some of your spells and you might get antsy around a light wielder who might bring down the hammer. But I think we have a fresh-faced greenhorn groomed since their first lesson to command. I wouldn't be asking you this if I thought you couldn't do it. But if you have the time could you help show Emelia the ropes? You saw her start to stutter once we all approached her right? I've seen young trolls in position before, groomed by their elders to command, they're confident but once it's time to lead they can quickly become doubtful, overwhelmed, and withdrawn. I think she could learn a lot from you, and you could learn something from her too. I ... also don't want a repeat of what happened with Felix. So, can I count on you? "

It was quite a request. But Marion could understand Jakk'ari's apprehension at allowing a head-strong and eager but rather green newcomer to seize any position of authority without having first had their mettle tested by the best teacher of all: experience.

"Have you ever had dealings with the Paladins before? The 'Knights of the Silver Hand'? They were among the saviours of my people during the Second War. Their inspiring leadership, the combination of martial prowess and connection to the Light made many of them household heroes, capable of both smiting orc and healing the injured in equal measure. When the Scourge blighted our lands, the Paladins once again rose to the occasion. For one who has not experienced the Scourge bloating out within their homeland...watching what they do to whole regions...you have no idea..."

Marion seemed to zone out for a second, her eyes staring off into the distance as if reliving some mind-grasping reality that only she could see. It took several seconds before she composed herself, exhaling and squaring her shoulders to return the trolls attention.

"Were it not for them one could argue that the whole of the northern continent of the Eastern Kingdoms would have been enthralled to the will of the Lich King, and by extension, the world itself would have little hope of resistance."

Marion allowed a pregnant pause to linger so that Jakk'ari could process everything she had just said.

"There was another branch of Paladins that..." Marion trails off, biting her bottom lip as she looked aside, her mind once again traversing in unknown fields as she considered her next words. "No, never mind. They are irrelevant to us."

Composing herself, "Emelia carries that legacy with her. It will inspire her to great heights, but it will also lure her into arrogance. My dealings with the Paladins has been...less than charitable. But as much as I despised their mindless harassment, I can remove my own ego from the equation to view their existence within the Alliance as one of necessity, for whom my race owes its very survival."

Marrion pursed her lips, her green eyes bright beneath the cowl of her hood.

"Great heights. Great arrogance. I can try to guide her hand, but I can make no guarantee that she will listen."

oOo

Perhaps to no ones surprise, Marion claimed the upper most room available in the tower, the one that was, ironically, closest to the sky. The attic, if you will. The spiralling staircase that drew one up into the floor was sealed off with ritualistic magic at its upper most peak, ensuring only those who were invited or permitted were able to enter the highest summit of the Opal's residence.

The first week passed with little oddity, relatively speaking. Marion would emerge from her cave carrying soft bags under her eyes and a tiredness to her gait - a fatigue that seemed to catch even the body of a teenager, who should be brimming with energy. Those below the attic would hear little disturbance from the fel user, save the occasional laughter through the floorboards or the whirring of...mechanical devices?

It was the second week that affairs became peculiar. Marion herself was unseen during this period, her image gracing no ones sight save that of the seemingly endless stream of goblin couriers that hurried up and down the stair case. One almost felt sorry for the little deliverymen, as their frames were dwarfed and weighed down by the hefty boxes that they carried, each balsa-wood cube brandished with insignia's from the Steamwheedle Company, the Venture Co and even producers situated in the far-flung dwarven capital of Ironforge.

And then came the sounds. The...odd sounds that were muffled by the floorboards but nevertheless distinct in their origin from the attic of the tower.

A laughter here. A distant "Yes!" there. On one particularly stormy evening one might have sworn that a lightning bolt had arched itself through a hole in the ceiling only to be captured by some arcane capacitor to the great delight of its creator. But surely such flights of fantasy were locked within the realm of wild imagination...

By the third week, Marion finally re-appeared among her colleagues. She had retained a distinct, aristocratic grooming, but those bags under her eyes had darkened and the energy with which she moved seemed...unnatural, driven almost by chemical stimulant rather than the natural exuberance of youth and excitement. Nevetheless, sunken though her eyes were they were remarkably alert.

As usual, Marion barely moved beyond the staircase that would lead one up to her elevated enclave. She received meals from those who would bring it, graciously thanking them, but little else. Instead she spent her time speaking to goblins of unknown identity, their connection to the outside world carried only in the insignia's that were worn upon their uniforms.

For those of a curious and eavesdropping inclination, scant collections of the warlocks conversation could be collected....

"Yes...yes...a production capacity of a thousand a week for now, and quadruple that after I streamline manufacturing methods...no....yes....no...no...no...no! Nothing less than 60%...I don't care, wish him all the best trying to mine deep into Stranglethorn without my creation..."

Soon, crates started to be carried out of the attic, not into it. Packaged boxes once more dwarfed the goblins carrying them, but each one bore a new logo, one that had not yet been seen, its imagery accompanied by a simple font stencil above its declaration - "Mordis".

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