It's always
sunset in the plaguelands.
Dust, like an autumnal snow, drifts in the air, casting the sky in
shades of khaki, making the sun but a smudge as she lurches over the
poisoned hills, the tainted forests of twisted trees and fell mushrooms.
Where the only vibrant color are the surcoats of the Scarlet Crusade
or the rivulets of blood upon burned grass.
"It's a doll, Mezzy."
Alone, quiet, save for the whispering of the hot wind, the echo of
a plaguehound's howl somewhere in foothills behind. The little gnome
sat on the steps of the rotted building, its frame witness to fire,
sword and the coming of the Scourge. Even the shadows cast by the house's
skeletal framework is faded, all colors lost to tones of overlaping
sepias.
"Just a doll, Mezzy.
"A little girl's doll."
Beside her the great blue voidwalker, her protector, simply raised
his talons to the dusky sky and roared.
" ... oh Mezzy, how did we get here ..."
Fluff and cloth, held close to the warlock's heart for a moment, remembering.
"Can't walk a handful of paces, even in the forests of Darnassus,
but to see a sword, a bit of rusted dagger, a broken warmachine, the
scars of the craft of war upon our world. hear the alarms ring out
in the night, look down from Trouble's back upon a tauren's broken
horns and body upon the trail ... or the blood of the dryads of Silverwing
staining the crystal waters of their lake.
"To try and return a little doll to a little girl ...
"Who doesn't understand she died so many years ago."
She raises a hand, to mop her brow, leaving a streak of grime and sweat
below the ring of her pointed hat.
" ... oh, Mezzy, how did we get here?
" ... where a fine lord like Captain Redpath can turn upon his
own family? Where upon the tallest thrown of death sits a man who doesn't
remember once being a paladin? Where mages tear asunder the very fabric
of the world, where Crusaders don't care whose blood they spill, Alliance
and Horde alike, in their genocidal pursuit of spiritual cleansing.
" ... where the High Priest of Stormwind asks me and you to go
out and kill someone ...
" ... gear-broke Mezzy, he asked us to be his assassins ..."
The small doll is hugged again, this time longer, eyes closed tight.
Its always sunset in the plaguelands.
Dust, like an autumnal snow, drifts in the air, casting the sky in shades of
khaki, making the sun but a smudge as she lurches over the poisoned hills, the
tainted forests of twisted trees and fell mushrooms.
Where the only vibrant color are the surcoats of the Scarlet Crusade or the rivulets
of blood upon burned grass.
"It's a doll, Mezzy."
Alone, quiet, save for the whispering of the hot wind, the echo of a plaguehound's
howl somewhere in foothills behind. The little gnome sat on the steps of the
rotted building, its frame witness to fire, sword and the coming of the Scourge.
Even the shadows cast by the house's skeletal framework is faded, all colors
lost to tones of overlaping sepias.
"Just a doll, Mezzy.
"A little girl's doll."
Beside her the great blue voidwalker, her protector, simply raised his talons
to the dusky sky and roared.
The small doll was hugged again, this time longer, eyes closed tight.
"And then they have the arrogance to call me and you evil."
A breath taken, quiet, soft.
"How many souls have been sent to the dark on the blade of a Paladin? How
many tauren mothers have broke down on their knees, to shed their tears over
a daughter lost to a sword tempered in Ironforge? How many night elf sires have
buried their sons, shattered, burnt and no longer even recognizable, magics of
frost and fire ending a near immortal life? How many priests have called upon
their gods to bring down their victims ... who had that very morning, prayed
to their own gods for victory.
"And we won't even mention those who have to slam their dagger into your
back, without the courage to look their dead in the eyes?
"How many raise their shields in useless combat against the Horde ...
"When all it accomplishes is to thin our ranks against the time of the Legions
return?"
A breath, quiet, soft.
"And then they have the arrogance to say we are Their pawns."
Setting the doll in her lap, the little gnome lass smooths its yarn hair, an
almost tenderlike motion.
"I ... I ... I am beginning to think that there's no such thing as good
and evil, Mezzy. It just doesn't make sense. The Paladins of Stormwind, they
say they are good and follow the light ... but I don't think the Trolls of Stranglevale
would agree with them. The night elves claim the forests by the will of their
swords and huntsmen ... bought in the blood of the Tauren ... who seem to live
just as close to Nature's will.
"Everyone seems to be thinking that They are good, Mezzy.
"But when you can't go a day without seeing a skeleton melt into the grasslands,
you can't help but to realize that they can't all be right.
"But its funny, Mezzy.
"But they could all be wrong."
Standing, the doll tucked in her arm, the little warlock brushes the red dust
from her skirts.'
"I know. And we probably are. And the difference is that we know that. me
and you face that everyday. The paladins, they think they'll be able to stand
against that final corruption. We know ...
"We know we are just not that strong.
"But until then?
"Mezzy, I think ... that's not important. We know that we will fall beneath
the Burning Legion's might.
"And I am not going to let them take you from me without a fight.
"You are MY best friend.
"I know you don't understand that. But that's fine. I do. And I know you
don't understand that it's not how we die that makes a difference.
"Its how we live."
She looks up to her companion, and manages a small smile.
"And right now?
"We have a doll to return to a little girl." |
