The Keep

Mathis spent his days working in Brill. He was a guard there, and spent most of his days talking and counseling new forsaken who were trying to be helpful to the horde or Sylvanas. They got standard training back in Deathknell, teaching them how to do basic things like use their limbs and to take down an enemy, after which they moved to help the forsaken in Brill. He would often delight Renkka, telling her of the amusing, and sometimes depressing, stories and words that came from the new undead.

And during the day, Renkka decided that she best learn to help the horde as well. She tried out quite a few different things, before finding where her skill lay. Mathis was weary of the demonic novels that she kept in her bag, and urged her to take up arms in a more traditional sense, but Renkka knew right away that she could never be a proud and noble warrior or shaman, and certainly not a sneaky rogue. She tried her skill with a bow, but would miss the target when she wasn’t fumbling and dropping arrows.

But oh, she could wield magic. She eagerly went to the warlock trainer’s, asking for their guidance and to help her bend the shadows to her will, to which they eagerly obliged. Renkka was a good pupil. She spent hours pouring over her books and listening to those with more strength than she. While Mathis worked, Renkka studied, and practiced, and learned the ways of darkness. And to her, it was natural. She could feel it pumping in her veins, her head less blurry as she watched her foes be consumed from the inside out.

She strengthened, her mind becoming sharp and focused the more she learned. And the more she learned, the more she craved to know. The forsaken in Deathknell would often send her confused looks, some being quite rude to her, as she obliviously carried out her training, running enthusiastically from one trainer to the next and back out to the fields to practice in.

Within nearly no time at all, she was able to summon a small imp from the nether that was, in her mind, useless as a sidekick, but a feat of accomplishment for herself. She kept him at his side, his mouth held shut with glue, as a monument to her growth and nothing more.

It seemed sudden when the warlocks in Deathknell told her they had no more to teach her, and that she had surpassed them in her training. Brimming with delight, she ran back to tell Mathis of the exciting news.

But it seemed Mathis didn’t have as good of day as she did. He sat, slumped in front of the fire, his tea cooling beside him, as his head rested in his bony hands. It was raining again, and his clothing stuck to his skin, his hair matted on his scalp. Renkka walked over, placing her wet hand on his wet back as she stared at his face. She knew she didn’t need to speak and that he’d tell her when he was ready.

The sky darkened, thunder rumbling in the distance, neither of them moving except for Renkka’s breathing. The fire slowly dwindled, and Renkka moved to put more wood on it when she heard his voice rasp behind her, “I had to jail someone today,” he hissed. Renkka froze, turning back to look at him. “What do you mean? Why?” “Have you heard of the scarlet crusade?” She shook her head slightly from side to side. “Well, they’re a group of humans who work to wipe out the scourge. There are some in Tirisfal, but their main area of operations is in the Plaguelands. Some are able to know the difference between the scourge and the forsaken, most are not, and it seems one of them has been… well, they’re undead now, and just as hateful as when they were human.

“They’ve been locked away, kept safe from the forsaken as well as keeping the forsaken safe from them. She’s powerful, and… believes she’s righteous in her actions.”

Renkka nodded, turning her attention back to the fire before sitting down next to him. “You should get changed… you’re going to smell bad if you stay in wet clothes,” she joked, urging a half smile to her lips. He chucked before obliging. “Don’t know what I did before you, Renkka. Would be so boring without you around,” he sighed as he slipped on his frayed pajamas. She just smiled, staring at the fire. “They told me I should seek training in Brill next,” she blurted out, trying to avoid the obvious implications in his tone.

He smiled as he settled back to the fire, pushing his mug closer to heat the tea again. “I know you’re going to do great things, Renkka. Just… be careful. The fel magics, especially the shadowy kind, can warp your mind. I don’t want my sweet Renkka to be… changed.”

She blushed at the words. His sweet Renkka.

Seemed nearly natural to belong to a man.