Dead and Unburied (Chess and Gryffonclaw) Part Three

Jon and Griffonclaw left Raven Hill at first light and used Jon's warrant to change horses at Sentinel Hill and at Westbrook. From there, they went to Goldshire and up to Stormwind. As they passed into the Trade District, they pulled up at the square adjacent to the auction house.

"Jon, you go and update the Constable; I will check in with Lord Shadowbreaker and see if there have been any other victims. Let's meet in the Cathedral after that?" said Gryffonclaw. Jon knew that Lord Grayson Shadowbreaker was the head of the paladins within Stormwind.

"Sounds like a sound plan," said Chess.

The two pointed their horses toward their destinations and headed off on the cobblestoned Stormwind streets.

Jon headed for the Old Town section, where he hoped to encounter Officer Connelly at the Alliance Command Center. A series of buildings and barracks out of which the Stormwind Constabulary worked. He found Connelly at her desk, laboriously working on the paperwork which kept the city bureaucracy working (insofar as it actually worked). He updated her with their findings and they made their way to the Cathedral of Light together.

When they reached the entrance, they inquired of Brother Sarno, who greeted visitors to the Cathedral.

"Greetings, Master Chess, Madam Constable," said Brother Sarno. He knew Jon by sight, as he had often brought supplies to the refugees under the care of Mia Greymane. 

"We're looking for Sir Gryffonclaw," said Jon.

"Sir Gryffonclaw? He was here but left with an attractive woman shortly after arriving," informed Brother Sarno.

"A brunette human woman?" questioned Jon.

"Indeed, just as you say," answered Brother Sarno.

Officer Connelly and Chess exchanged glances and turned, exiting the Cathedral and heading down the Cathedral stairs.

"Where was the last body found?" asked Jon.

"The cemetery; let's check there first," answered Officer Connelly.

The two of them ran around the west end of the Cathedral. Unencumbered by armor, Jon sprinted ahead, out-pacing Officer Connelly, reaching the cemetery first.

"Let's see... if I was going to drain the life out of a paladin in broad daylight without being interrupted, where would I go?" Jon muttered to himself, scanning left and right. An idea came to him just as Officer Connelly caught up. 

"Where do you think they went? she asked.

"Check the Tiffin Ellerian Wrynn Memorial - it's the favored meeting place of people who don't want to be seen. I'll meet you there," Jon said, muttering an incantation and vanishing from sight as Officer Connelly rushed off.

Jon merged into the Shadows and began running for another set of graves also screened with arbor lattices; the Queen's memorial had a pair of guards standing sentry duty at the entrance, and although it was possible, Jon was willing to bet that the other place, unguarded would be far more attractive a spot. 

At least if he was wrong, Officer Connelly would have those guards to back her up in case of trouble.

Jon arrived at the sound of a moan, although from pain or pleasure, he could not tell, perhaps both, coming from,m behind the concealing arbor trellis. Stepping through to the side, he saw what he had expected to see - Gryffonclaw on the ground, on his back, his armor removed, and set to the side. Riding astride him was a beautiful brunette woman with glowing red eyes. The two were surrounded by a crackling ebon nimbus of necromantic energy.

Jon's hand sought a vial in his supply pouch, and he swiftly uncorked and hurled it towards the woman. Jon became visible as he left the Shadows, drawing a pair of knives. The vial and the liquid struck the woman's face, and she screamed, leaping off the partially naked paladin as it burned. 

As suspected, she seemingly vanished;  Jon saw that the woman was no longer human but a Forsaken, one of the accursed undead. Her skin was pallid, and her jaw extended unnaturally as she hissed at Jon, who threw both knives without hesitation. The blades flew true and embedded themselves with a meaty thunk. 

The woman-thing rushed Jon, who leaped backward. She ripped the knives embedded in her while her face smoked. Jon could see where the liquid had burned into her unholy flesh, but neither daggers nor projectile had been enough. She raised her hands, surrounded by the same ebon energy Jon had seen. 

"Foolish mortal! You will not interrupt my work. The Legion may be gone, but our work continues! They have made me more than a mere mortal, more than Felcaller Whitley's mistress; they have gifted me with the powers of the Sayaadi! " she said. "The Veiled Hand will rule this shattered world. We herald a new beginning!"

A flash of blinding Light manifested behind her, engulfing her. Jon watched as the Light ate at her flesh and dissipated into the fantastic night.

"Or not," commented Gryffinclaw, standing still deshabille behind where she had been. "Once you broke her concentration, her control over me was broken. The Light has forever ended her dreams of conquest. By the way, what did you throw? Acid?

"Stratholme Holy Water," Jon smirked at his half-brother as he heard the sound of armored folk rapidly running toward them. "I believe in being prepared. Be that as it may, do me a favor?"

"Certes. What?"

"Put on some pants before Officer Connelly arrests you for indecency!"

Dead and Unburied (Chess and Gryffonclaw) Part Two

Jon Chess led the pannier-laden donkey behind his horse, turning to his companion. The donkey carried the latest order from Chef Grual, the cook in in the Scarlet Raven Tavern in Darkshire. "What a surprise!" exclaimed Jon sarcastically. "The weather is as wet and foul as a winter is Duskwallow Marsh. Cold, hungry, lonely, with only a Paladin of the Holy Light for company... truly, this place is well-named."

The aforementioned paladin snorted in amusement. "Oh, you'll live," Gryffonclaw replied. "You whine like a wet cat who fell into the Stormwind canals."

"Oh, I'll live," answered Chess. "But I won't enjoy it." When Chess had finished his drink and parted from Officer Connelly he had sought his half-brother. When Jon had come to the Stormwind Orphanage as a youth from Pyrewood, wearing only a Silverlaine signet ring, Gryffonclaw had recognized it as a sign of Jon's lineage as a bastard by-blow of the Silverlaine line. The paladin, also from Pyrewood, had thought himself the son of the castle's Commander Springvale, but had later discovered from his grandfather's ghost that his mother, Commander Springvale's wife had been taken unlawfully by the Silverlaine heir. The Commander had married her and salvaged her life until both had been killed when Silverlaine Castle had been taken by the accursed wizard Arugal.  The ring, identical to Gryffonclaw's own, marked Jon as another bastard of the Silverlaine line, and Gryffonclaw's half-brother. He had stood as protector to Jon, and arranged for his first training in both arms and healing.

"Then you are a fool, brother mine. At the end of this case you shall return to your astonishingly beautiful wife, and I... I shall go back to my solitary existence."

"Yes, poor you.  Well, you know you have an open invitation to dinner whenever we are in Stormwind."

"Or Boralus. Yes, and good thing - someone has to hear your and your family's confessions." Boralus, for all Jon loved it, had no Church of the Light and its adherents were dependent on itinerant priests or paladins. Gryffonclaw made a point to visit often, to take care of their needs.

They arrived in Darkshire just as night was falling, although the storm clouds had made the day as dark as night. Jon unpacked and delivered the cheese to the kitchen, while Gryffonclaw tended to their mounts at the stables. They met together in the common room, and struck up a conversation with the barkeep, Hann. Jon and Hann had devopled a strong relationship; Hann sold smuggled Moonshine which had avoided the royal taxes, and Jon sometimes supplied him with Silvermoon Port for his Ren'dorei customers. In exchange, Hann provided Jon with information for Elling Trias. 

"So... I heard about the mystery body found some weeks ago... a merchant who was thirty one night, and found the next day as a 90-year old mummy. Do you remember serving him that night?" Jon asked casually.

"I do remember him, and I told the Night Watch," said Hann. "Funny thing though.. the poor sod spent most of the evening buying wine for a woman, and both of them went up to his room after dinner. She has not been found since."

"Do you remember her name? Can you describe her?" asked Gryffonclaw. 

"After all this time? My memory is hazy... perhaps if I had incentive?" said Hann slyly.

"A failing memory in one so young is a shame." purred Jon softly. "Do you suppose that 50 gold might purchase medicines to restore your mental capacity?" Jon slid a small bulging purse across the table, when Hann made it swiftly disappear from sight.

"I recall woman, past her prime a bit but still handsome, with long silver hair; she could have been your older sister," Hann said. polishing a pewter tankard with a towel. "She visits us quite often from Raven Hill. Her name was Ilona, Ilona Locke." 

"I don't understand... you told this to the Night Watch, but they didn't report it?" Gryffonclaw asked.

Hann leaned forward and spoke in a tone just above a whisper. "She was Veiled Hand."

"Interesting," said Jon softly, and then finished his wine. "Time for bed, Gryff; we need to head to Raven Hill in the morning."

"Jon, shouldn't we ask the Night Watch why they didn't mention her?" asked Gryffonclaw.

"No... during the war against the Burning Legion, the Veiled Hand used demonic sorcery to subvert the wills of many of the Night Watch, and some were willing agents. They sought to overthrow Stormwind rule, but their plans were thwarted by SI:7 agents," said Jon. "I doubt that anyone wants to admit anything where the Veiled Hand was concerned. 

"We will find no answers here," Join concluded.

Dead and Unburied (Chess and Gryffonclaw) Part One

It had been a long while since the fellow commonly known as Jonathan Chess sat in the Pig & Whistle tavern in Stormwind’s Old Town neighborhood. It might have been longer still, but he had gotten mail from an old friend, requesting his assistance. Officer Connelly had been just a newly-recruited beat constable when Jon had been first making a living in Stormwind after returning from his service in Northrend and having his heart broken in Hearthglen. She had initially been suspicious of a Private Investigator operating in his patch, but over time, Jon had been asked to consult with the Stormwind Constabulary on a serial poisoner case, and Officer Connelly had been assigned as her liaison. They had never been friends, precisely, but when Jon discovered things he felt the constabulary should know, he sent the information via Officer Connelly. Her career prospered, she knew that a large part of that had been cases closed due evidence gathered and given to her by Chess.

“She had always been able to resist my charms,” Jon mused. He had tried his best to work his way into her bed, but she had always shot him down like an archer with a telescopic sight; which of course increased Jon’s attraction. At least it had until he had met the beautiful, powerful and brilliant Alia Atherton, who had made Jon forget any interest in any other women. Still, he could not ignore her appeal for assistance.

He did not have long to wait; she was almost religiously punctual. Conversations ground to a halt as she entered the tavern’s common room; the clientele of the Pig & Whistle was not precisely replete with understanding citizens. They relaxed when they saw her make a beeline for Jon’s usual table under the stairs. The low buzz of conversation in her wake translated, for the most part, to “better him than me”.

“Master Chess, so good of you to come,” she said as she approached the table.

“Please, Officer Connelly, call me Jon,” Jon said, waving her to the seat opposite his. “You are looking well.” Morning arms practice and then walking about Stormwind in plate and chain armor had kept her in a svelte, muscular fighting trim. 

She ignored the complement. It didn’t bother Jon, he was used to it from her.

“I need your help on my current case,” she began, but Chess interrupted her. “I don’t really do that kind of work any more.”

“I know - you somehow conned your way into the Lord Admiral’s service. It's just as well, as I don’t have any budget to pay you anyway.” She smiled an insolent grin, the kind Jon remembered so well.

She had a stunning smile, and Jon knew, that his gorgeous wife aside, there was no way he was going to say that he declined to help.

“Tell me,” Jon said.

“Well, two weeks ago, the first body was found in the Scarlet Raven in Darkshire. The body was drained of all life; the fellow was a 30-ish male merchant in the prime of his life, but the corpse looked like a man triple his age, who had died of natural causes,” she said.

“Did the local militia come to any conclusions?” asked Jon.

“I have not had a chance to question them; that would require traveling, and when I asked for permission, it was refused,” replied Officer Connelly bitterly.

“I see,” Jon said. Travel costs money, and time, and resources; the local magistrates would never approve that for a commoner.

“The next bodies were found in Raven Hill, on the ground between the town and the cemetery. They were identified as two who had planned to harvest the poison glands from the giant spiders there, to sell to apothecaries for making antivenoms,” said Officer Connelly. “Again, both bodies were shriveled with age, with no other sign of injury.”

“I suppose you haven’t spoken to those who found them, either?”

“No. I was told that given the number of people who have died in that undead-infested cemetery, two more were not important and quite out of our jurisdiction.” Once more Jonathan nodded; a predictable if uncaring answer by the civil bureaucracy. 

“The only reason I know about them at all is because another body was found early this morning in the Stormwind cemetery; whatever or whoever is causing these deaths have come to Stormwind. I am assigned the case to find answers and stop them from happening, but my hands are tied, hamstrung by my superiors.” She scowled, clearly unhappy about her situation. “I thought perhaps you might be willing to investigate, given how many pro bono cases you had taken in the past. I remember you saying ‘Everyone matters, or no one matters’ when that insane Scarlet Crusader was killing Void Elves in the city, and nobody would help them. Except for you.”

Jon blushed. There was a time before his wife when he had several Ren’dorei lovers; he was appalled by how the authorities had ignored their plight, believing that the newly-arrived Ren’dorei still held allegiance to the Horde. Jon had done his best to help them, including finding the Scarlet Crusader responsible for a string of racially-motivated deaths. 

“I won’t be able to offer much, but I think I can manage to get you a Crown warrant to investigate. Will you please help me?” she asked.

“I will do my best,” said Jon, his mind already leaping ahead to what needed to be done.

Rikalyn Microheroes

 

Rikalyn

Rikalyn in
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Danger in Darkshire (FitzSilver) Part Two

 "Okay, kiddo - you've been sulking in bed for a week," began his guardian, Sir Griffonclaw. Snow FitzSilver had arrived in Ironforge with a head wound and a concussion, and Griffonclaw had taken him home. The head wound was healed that very day, and the concussion had been dealt with as well. Healing Snow's spirit was another matter.

Snow FitzSilver, his ward, sat up. "Head wound. Concussion."

Griffonclaw pointed his finger like a pistol. "I healed the head wound  before we left the tram. The concussion took longer because it wasn't an emergency, and there was no reason to have you dehydrated and weak; the Light steals from your body's resources for the healing, so I let nature take its course. Well, with the Light's help... but just a little." He smiled affectionately. "So why the brooding?"

"Brooding?"

"Yes, a sombre emotional state characterized by depression and despondency. Brooding. So enlighten me, kiddo," requested Griffonclaw. We may be citizens of Ironforge, and live here, but we human, and brooding and a taciturn surliness isn't part of our natural psyche."

Snow remained quiet, gathering his thoughts. "I was on a monster hunt in Darkshire, with about a score of others."

"...and together you slew the creature."

"Well, they did - I was so out of it from my head arguing with a headstone that I was useless. I got off two shots, and missed... Fel, I'm lucky I didn't hit one of the others. Others were injured, and one died - because I wasn't pulling my weight."

"...Snow, I am sorry that you and others were hurt, and glad you survived without permanent injury," said Griffonclaw slowly, his voice laden with empathy. "The path you have chosen - helping keep others safe, and defending those who cannot effectively fight... 

"... like myself ..." interjected Snow.

"Interrupting is rude," Griffonclaw added, almost automatically; Snow had a bad habit that Griffonclaw had been unable to remedy while he was growing up. "the others knew the risks as well. While regrettable, there is rarely violent conflict without injury or death. The creature you described had killed, and would kill again; honor the fallen, who made the choice to protect others by slaying the beast."

After a pause, he added "I am very proud of the man you have become."

The silence between them grew, but it was borne of familiar comfort and undoubted love.

"So what do I do" quietly asked Snow.

"Well, I can tell you what Uncle Jon did," Griffonclaw said. "He has spent his whole life doing what he calls 'cheating' and what I call 'optimizing his offensive capabilities to ensure maximum effect and minimal threat'. He is an accomplished apothecary and a certified combat medic; he often envenoms his throwing knives and other weapons. He has a Gnome friend who makes him explosives, smoke bombs, and other devices to minimize the risk of combat. He never  stops learning, never stops finding another way to protect himself and the family from harm." Griffonclaw frowned. "He has even become adept at the Shadow magic of the Arakkoa to enhance his stealth and disguise abilities, which may ultimately cause more harm than good, but that is his choice."

"Do you think he might be willing to help me?" asked Snow.

"I think he will, if approached; none of his children have followed in his footsteps thus far. I know Alia is relieved; she worries about Jon constantly, but at the same time is very proud of the good he does. And while he doesn't really know how to show it, I know he would do anything to keep any of his family safe. Or at least more safe."

Danger in Darkshire (FitzSilver) Part One

The fellow most people knew as Jon Chess, Agent of Cheese, looked up as his adopted nephew entered the kitchen where Jon was preparing dinner. "You sent for me, Unca Jon?". Jon checked the progress of the cooking food, and turned to his nephew. Jon's half-brother Griffonclaw had adopted an orphan named Snow, who bore the silver-white hair marking Gilnean bastards; conrary to ordinary characteristic inheritance, the Gilean royal line carried a dominant trait of that hair color.

May Gileans had white hair. The Royal Family of Gilneas had historically never missed an opportunity with a willing lass, and once in a bloodline the hair would periodically appear. Griffonclaw had figured that the orphan Snow (named for his hair) was to one degree or another related to the FitzSilver line; the surname was given to all bastards of the Silverlaine line, acknowledged or not.

Anyone seeing Jon next to Snow would assume they were father and son.

"Yeah, Snow... I need to ask a favor of you; I need you to take a cheese delivery to the cook at the Scarlet Raven in Darkshire, and I can't really get away right now," Jon informed Snow. Snow nodded; Jon was a privy agent to the Admiralty of Kul Tiras, and had been in Jaina Proudmoore since the founding (or thereabouts) of Theramore.

"Of course. What does it pay?," responded Snow, grinning.

"What do you want?," answered Jon.

"I want you to teach me how to cook," affirmed Snow. 

"Oh?

"Yeah, I've been helping Van... Miss Colton, and she can't cook without lethal results. I've seen you charm Alia with your menu - especially the desserts - and I thought I could make 'Nessa smile with some food that's actually edible."

Jon considered; Vanessa Colton was the daughter of an ex-Syndicate assassin Jon had dated, once upon a time. Snow could do worse, and Vanessa could use the protection that Snow brought.

"Done. Go to the Trias' shop, and they will have the shipment ready for you."

"Done" agreed Snow.