The Drag, Concussions, and Ice Deflectors

I was on my way through Orgrimmar earlier tonight when I came across the body of another Sin’dorei lying on the ground. She was sprawled out in the Drag, not too far before where I woulda turned to restock my poisons. I didn’t know what to think–well, I could tell she wasn’t dead, mostly because that’s a habit you get when you’ve seen enough corpses, but I didn’t know if it was just some woman stone drunk, or if she was hurt.

Turns out it was the latter.

Also turns out that she weren’t a stranger: the woman’s name is Cable, and I knew her from the deliveries from House Esteri. I didn’t realize this till I’d already seen and felt the blood on her, but I guess it wouldn’t've changed things anyhow. I couldn’t leave no one bleedin’ to death in the middle of a city street.

Mazikeen realizes that she doesn’t actually know how to feel about that last statement–doesn’t know whether or not it’s actually true. For safety’s sake, she crosses it out.

I bandaged her up, checked her eyes. Pretty sure she had a concussion, so I did what I needed to. Had to smash up one’ve my ice deflectors (a nifty device that engineering has granted me skill with) to get at the frost oil inside. Worked out better than I had planned: froze a strip’ve wool solid in seconds! I wrapped that up a bit in some more cloth, and I think it helped keep the swelling down.

Her arm was pretty banged up, even more’n the rest’ve her body. When she was coherent again, she told me that it’d been a Tauren that’d done a number on her. I believe that much’ve it, though I’m sure she was trying to downplay any provokin’ that might’ve been done on her part. I don’t know enough ’bout any of it to make no conclusions, but none of it sits well with me.

When I got her to her feet, we went up to the local Orgrimmar doctor. She weren’t none too happy to be treated by an Orc, but that’s her own problem–I ain’t gonna coddle no one’s prejudice, ’specially when it’s impractical. After all, when all was said and done, the Orc fixed her up a good one. She’ll be able to hold a sword again, at least.

I s’pose I’ll send her something to help make her feel better. I sent Achates some tea a while back, and that seemed to help him with his cold. Maybe it’ll do something for Miss Cable.

Mostly though, I’m expectin’ her to turn around and bite the hand that helped her. I won’t take it none too personally, of course. I guess if I was from a fancy House that maybe I’d resent being helped by one’ve the lower, workin’ folk. All I know is that I did my duty as a Blood Elf, and as a member of the Silverguard.

Dunno. Maybe it just felt good to be helping instead of hurting for a time.

First Impressions.

Mazikeen propped herself up in the Silvermoon Inn, feet crossed at the ankle set along a separate chair. It was approaching daybreak, but hadn’t quite reached that mark yet–the slowest hour of the day, by far. Most had gone to sleep, and even the early risers were generally not yet awake; if a few were, then they certainly weren’t out drinking yet, and she was enjoying a rare moment of near-solitude in the Inn. On the upper floor she was alone, save for another, older Sin’dorei who was so bent over his drink that she assumed he was sleeping. In any case, he wasn’t bothering her.

In her lap was an opened book–it was bound in leather and each page was blank, though slightly colored with age. Taking up the short quill that she had set down for herself, she dipped the tip in the nearby ink pot. With a short sigh, she began to write in a script that was small and angular.

Never was much of one for writing down my thoughts. After all, one only knows how many secrets someone like myself carries, right? Even secrets on the inside ain’t always safe, and they sure ain’t better off on parchment. Got this pretty thing off’ve a geezer-old sorcerer of sorts–fair and square, given to me back only a short time after the Sunwell… yeah. Helped him a turn, he paid me in what he could. Said ain’t nobody will be read it, save its owner. Then he gave it to me, and I thanked him. Had no idea what I’d do with it though. Actually thought I’d pawned it some time back.

But anyway, lately…

Feeling kind of mixed up inside, and that’s new. Even during the hard days after the Sunwell went, it wasn’t like this. I knew what I had to do, and that was help my kin where I could, and survive (not always in that order, you know, but something like it). I thought joining up with the Silverguard would sort all that out, and I guess that’s a cowards way out, ain’t it? You step back and try to let other people order you ’bout, cause you don’t want to figure it out for yourself.

That ain’t all fair though. I want to help us Blood Elves, and I know the Silverguard’s got that in mind. If I can be helping our people more’n hurting them, that’s damn fine.

I’ve only been with them roughly a week or so, but its been a busy week. The Ghostlands are still all torn up, and I feel like even if I fight till my arms are caked with that thick black ghoul-blood, there’s always just too many. Seems like we keeping throwing young Blood Elf bodies at the problem, and that ain’t solving anything worth batshit.

Last night I stood around while a new member of the Silverguard, warlock named Zaliron or some such, got branded. He was an interesting character, far as that goes. Figures himself as some kinda charmer, my guess. Seemed harmless enough, though I can’t say that everyone took him as lightly as I did. Eh, I’ll save my anger for someone a little more deserving.

And of course, there was the moment when I tried to make a joke, which failed somewhat, well, miserably. Leave it at that.

Also got a payment letter from House Erestir ’round that time. The sent it on one of those Blood Knights, and she didn’t seem to have a high opinion of me. No matter though, she wouldn’t be the first. Probably’ll have a few more run-ins with that House, account of they pay well enough and for honest enough work. Slightly less honest maybe than the work they give their Knights, but s’fine by me.

The old, sleeping Sin’dorei let out a loud snore, that cause Mazikeen’s eyes to look up sharply, though she didn’t change her reclining posture. When she listened hard enough, though the Inn was still quiet, she could here the beginnings of movement outside. The sun would be rising shortly.

Without bothering to offer a conclusion to her entry, Mazikeen twisted a top onto the small ink pot, and wiped the tip of the quill off on one of the cloth napkins available on the table next to her. She slid both items into her bags, and then carefully shut her journal. The Rogue stood, stretched high, arching her back, and then tucked the book under her arm. With that she quietly left the Inn, tossing a few copper down for the couple of drinks she had had, and made her way back to the Silverguard Halls.