Friday, March 5, 2010

Everyone Needs A Break

Fulguralis brushed his robes once more in vain. Speckles of blood and grime covered him and would not be removed my mere wiping. He either needed a stout wash basin or someone with a better understanding of the non-volatile elements to be able to get the garment clean.  Out in Icecrown, the nearest wash basin was a long ways away, and, on principle, Fulguralis refused to ask a mage for anything. 

The fighting had been long an arduous over the past several weeks, but the hard work had paid off.  Tirion and his groups of adventurers and crusaders had gained a tenuous foothold in the Citadel.  The supply lines were steady and secure, and the soldiers well fed.  That was something at least.  Something to show for so many lives lost.

Wiping a grimy hand through his greasy, blond hair, Fulguralis looked at his fellow adventurers gathered in the camp just outside of the Citadel gates.  They were resting now after yet another push deep inside of enemy-held territory.  Several tents encircled the fire pit with the ten adventurers scattered around.  The camp had looked the same since day one of the assault on the Citadel, faded canvas tents staked into the group with the miscellanea of war strewn about haphazardly.  There was no time for tidiness in war. 

Jessabelle, the dwarven priest, sat nearby, face buried in a book.  She was the default leader of the ragtag crew; it was her efforts that had brought them all together.  She did a rather good job at keeping them focused, though she seemed to have a propensity for getting her own self into sticky situations - Fulguralis recalled the narrow escape from the headsman a few weeks ago - no one know the lay of the land better than her.  It only made sense, considering the amount of time she spent buried in those ever-so-flammable books. 

Near the priest was her druid familiar.  The strange, willowy man was always at her side.  He was of few words, but when he did talk, it tended to spill forth in brambles as tangled as his branches in tree-form.  The hunter tended to her pet off to one side, while two shaman categorized their totems on the other.  The mage - yes, Fulguralis was forced into behaving civilly to a mage - sat near the fire, alternatively smothering it with ice and starting it back up again.  A trickle of water ran away from the pit in a steady stream.  Fulguralis could not see what she hoped to gain from the exercise, but it wouldn't be the first time he misunderstood the intentions of a mage. 

Raucous laughter spilled from one of the tents in which a lantern glowed brightly.  Through the pulled back flaps, Fulguralis could see a warrior and two paladins, one of whom was his wife.  They appeared to be playing some sort of drinking game that involved the finger bones of some defeated monster and several large mugs of ale. 

Fulguralis was surprised to note a rather fond feeling for the group swell inside of him as he surveyed the scene.  They had been through a lot together, and were all similarly focused on seeing the Lich King taken down.  It was a motley crew, but the common purpose bound them as tightly as any of those silly Argent oaths.

Fulguralis took several steps towards the party tent before glancing over at Jessabelle, "Hey! Jbelle!  The drunks found another cask of ale."

Wide dwarven eyes unearthed themselves from the trappings of the book, a slight sheen of excitement seeping into them.  If there was one thing that could get the woman away from books, it was ale.  Carefully, she shut the book and stood, smoothing her robes in an overly dignified manner.  It would not do to point out the ink stains on the cuffs of the garment, remnants of furious note-taking.  Fulguralis knew such an observation was likely to get a snide response.  Several of the other adventurers' ears perked up as well, and like fel bugs to holy light they were all drawn inexorably towards the tent. 

Fuubaar spared a glance from the game towards her husband.  Fulguralis caught her eye in the moonlight, and the warlock noted the somewhat drunken cast to her gaze.  She had obviously started early again.  He was beginning to worry about her, she had become increasingly reticent of late.  Sure the battles had been hard, gory, and seemingly endless, but that had never seemed to bother her before.  Perhaps it was the feeling of a looming storm on the horizon that had everyone on edge.  It felt as if the very fabric of Azeroth was being pulled at the edges and would be stretched so tight as to split down the middle.

They all chalked it up to just another effect of the Lich King on the world, another crime for which he would pay in the end, and tried to ignore it as best they could.  Still, his paladin wife had become somewhat skittish as of late and had taken a bit more heavily to the bottle.  Being a warlock, Fulguralis wasn't quite sure what to say, if anything.  Emotions weren't his strong suit.  Their eyes stayed locked until a look of concern crossed the paladin's eyes and she dropped them to the floor of the tent.  Fulguralis wasn't sure, but it certainly seemed as if she were hiding something.  Whatever it was, it would have it's day when the Lich King finally fell.  There'd be plenty of time for mushy talk then, surely.

Still, Fulguralis felt a keen sense of unease as his wife nervously fished a hand down the front of her armor and emerged with a strange amulet in hand.  She had taken to wearing the thing lately, but every effort on Fulguralis's part to get a closer look at it only set her hackles up and sent her off into a rage about him being too "nosy".  She had the strange crest on the end of the silver chain in her fingers, and was worrying it rapidly.  Fulguralis picked up his pace, hoping to perhaps get a better look at it.

As he closed in, Fuubaar seemed to sense his proximity and realized she had the amulet out again, since she hastily shoved it back down the neck of her armor.  Grabbing her mug of ale, she lifted it skyward and drained it to the last drop.

With a glare in his direction, she announced quite loudly, "Pour ush another round! We have more playershesh... hic!"

1 comment:

  1. Is it time for an intervention for poor Fuu?

    Screw that, I'm just as drunk as her.