(2024-07-09) WOOF!

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Author:	OzmaAsimov
Summary:	Kenelly pays a visit to Drakewatch to get Zath's counsel about her new worgen outreach initiative.
Rating:	T for Teen

Drakewatch takes a bit of time to get to from the more civilized areas of Redridge, as there is a long and winding path up into the mountains. It's not an interesting ride, either, as the path chosen for the road has its views blocked by ruddy stone in almost every direction the entire way.

At the end of the journey, however, the road turns into a charming little bowl that has been carved out of the mountains at high elevation by some unknown natural or catastrophic force. Trees grow thickly in the southern reaches of the area, and through them can be barely glimpsed the shimmer of what is either an extremely small lake or an extremely large pond. Nestled among the trees and with a fine view of the water is a strangely ominous manor house, built in a Lordaeronian style but from local red stone.

It took a bit of asking around to find out where Drakewatch was. Several people could tell Kenelly it was somewhere in Redridge, but getting specific directions was a bit more of a challenge. Especially directions that would help her avoid gnolls and Blackrock orcs.

At last, the winding way brings her to the manor. They way others spoke of it, one might get the impression of a menacing fortress or a haunted ruin. But much like the lord himself, Kenelly already found the reality far more charming than legend would suggest. She wears an eager smile as her horse slows from a trot to deliver her.

Two young men rush out to greet her, one dark and one fair. They have clearly expected her arrival. "May we take your horse, my lady?" says the dark-skinned young man. "The master is waiting for you in the tea room. Seneschal will show you."

Kenelly waits for their approach, offering a hand to allow them to help her down from her horse, though she hardly needs it. "Thank you very much." Feet firmly on the ground, she strolls up to the house, admiring the shy glimpses of the glinting water through the trees.

The house looms picturesquely as she approaches, and when she reaches the entrance the grand double doors open as though of their own accord. They are, of course, opened by two footmen. The two handsome young men are nearly identical and expressionless.

A statuesque woman with silver-streaked dark brown hair piled high on her head and an impeccable deep blue gown is in the process of gliding down the main staircase. When she spots Kenelly she gives a cordial smile. "Good afternoon, Lady Kenelly," she says. "I am the seneschal. Lady Tyrrell is away on a social call, so you will find the manor quite peaceful and orderly. Tea is ready, and Lord Tyrrell awaits you; please allow me to escort you."

Kenelly catches herself staring at the seneschal a moment longer than she should. The woman is striking, as if embodying the elegance of the household. "Thank you." She nods and moves to follow. Kenelly is suddenly feeling underdressed in her simple green gown—with the requisite embroidered flowers—still slightly rumpled from her long ride.

The seneschal leads her to the tea room, where Zath is not only waiting, but appears to have already eaten half the strawberry scones and a full three quarters of what was once a neat stack of small walnut-chicken salad sandwich triangles.

"How do you take your tea?" the seneschal asks Kenelly politely, seeming unruffled by Zath's rudeness.

Zath simply inclines his head toward Kenelly in greeting.

"With milk, please. Thank you." Kenelly steps forward and bobs a curtsey to Zath. "Lord Tyrrell, thank you so much for seeing me." She lingers by a chair, waiting for it to be pulled out for her (but beginning to suspect that might not happen).

Zath notices the waiting and hops up immediately to pull out the chair as the seneschal prepares a cup of tea.

"Please let me know if you require more sandwiches, my lady," the seneschal says evenly, with the merest glance toward Zath.

Kenelly lifts a hand as if to dismiss the notion as she sits, but she quickly retracts it. "Actually…that would be lovely, thank you. It's been a long ride." It's a suitable excuse, but the reality is that her appetite is much greater than it was before the change. She gives Zath what she assumes is a knowing look.

"I'm so glad we have this opportunity to speak again," Kenelly begins. "I've thought a great deal on our discussion at the wedding." Once the seneschal has departed to see about the tea and sandwiches, she lowers her voice to a whisper. "Can we speak freely here? Are your staff aware of your situation?"

"Unfortunately yes. I had an unintentional transformation that was witnessed by both some orphans and some staff, and gossip spread like wildfire. Two left my service, but the seneschal has beaten the rest back into order."

It isn't clear if he is being metaphorical. She does look strong.

Kenelly's eyes widen as the mental image plays in her mind. "Ah, I see. I'm sorry it came out like that. But I'm glad to know you have loyal staff remaining. I suppose this leads into what I want to talk about. The worgen initiative. My hope is that it will help us to avoid future confusion and unpleasantness like that. I have many ideas, but I could use your help organizing them into something that stands a chance of succeeding."

"I am happy to assist." He makes no further move toward the sandwiches or scones, but he does take a small sip from his tea.

The seneschal returns with more sandwiches and scones, as well as a fresh pot of tea. She then makes herself scarce.

"Why don't you begin," Zath says, "by telling me what you have in mind so far? Then I shall make my suggestions."

Kenelly tries not to be too quick to scoop up a fresh sandwich and scone, but she is ravenous and it likely shows. Chewing through her first bite…bites…she produces a notebook from her traveling satchel. "Well, first I considered who we would actually serve. I realized the scope of worgen issues is broad, and I think we'll have to address them all in some fashion to be successful." She finds the page she was seeking and reads from it: "Our clients include:

• Sapient worgen, whether from Gilneas or otherwise.
• Non-worgen Gilneans.
• Feral worgen deemed capable of rehabilitation.

I've included non-worgen Gilneans because we are inextricably tied to them, and I feel this foundation will have to address anti-Gilnean sentiment right alongside anti-worgen sentiment."

Zath frowns slightly. "I do not believe that conflating Gilnean humans with unrehabilitatable feral worgen serves anyone. In fact if I were you I would leave that latter group out entirely. If I had tried to improve the public's opinion of hopelessly corrupt warlocks who constantly harm others and break the law, I would have gotten nowhere with the WEB. The entire purpose was to differentiate ourselves from such warlocks, and you will have a hard enough time convincing the average citizen that you are not a savage beast without also saying from the other side of your mouth 'but there's also nothing wrong with being a savage beast.' You must draw a line."

"I understand the concern," Kenelly starts slowly. "But the point here would be to demonstrate that some worgen can be rehabilitated. And that other worgen are the most suitable people to handle this very real problem. Imagine if we could send worgen teams into Duskwood to capture…or, if necessary, kill…the feral worgen there. We're the only one who can take on such a task with no risk of being transformed into monsters."

"Focus on the killing," Zath says mildly, taking a sip of tea. "No one in Duskwood is particularly interested in breaking bread with the rehabilitated murderers of their children."

"Some of those worgen might be their children." Kenelly's voice is barely a whisper.

"Not anymore, if they have gone feral. You must separate your particularly soft heart from what the majority of people need in order to accept something dangerous in their midst. What the majority of civilized people need is reassurance that some worgen are in control of themselves, and that those special sort do not condone or forgive the actions of the uncontrolled. All you will do by branding yourself as a feral sympathizer is make people fear that you are feral yourself and cannot be trusted. This is a public relations matter, yes? You are trying to convince non worgen, not worgen, to see you as good and noble and civilized. You must understand how the public thinks, or you are a failure at public relations from the start."

Kenelly takes a careful breath. It's not easy to disagree with this man; even his quiet words carry a powerful certainty that disarms her. "Yes…I realize it's an uphill battle. But all of this is. And, forgive me, but you're wrong. I need to convince worgen as well. I anticipate many will resist cooperation with the foundation. They'll see it as a means of collaring us. If I write off all feral worgen as beyond salvation, I'm telling them we don't care about their own loved ones who still roam the wilds in a feral state. With all due respect, my lord, you were fortunate. You went through the Ritual of Balance shortly after you were bitten. For most of us it wasn't like that. I was feral for seven years. Yet here I sit, composed and in control."

"We may be running into an issue of semantics. As I understand it 'feral' applies to those worgen who reject or do not respond to alchemy and the ritual. We are having a difficult enough time getting the public to understand just how different worgen like you and I are from the Nightbane and Bloodfang and such. That is the most urgent matter on the table, and making an immediate grand show of sympathy with their ilk will muddy - if not bloody those waters for the successfully rehabilitated."

She considers his words for a moment, and makes a quick note in her book. "You may be right. The term 'feral' has been used liberally. We may need more precise language. Understand, this is why I tried to specify ferals that are deemed capable of rehabilitation. I accept that many…most are beyond redemption.

"All of that said, aiding the hopeful ferals is not the primary mission, and would likely be something we would have to put off until we were better established, anyhow. I think our primary goals need to be…" she pauses as she starts reading from her notes again, "nurturing a positive public image, facilitating the smooth transition of sapient worgen into Alliance society, providing worgen support services such as clerical counsel, and monitoring worgen activity."

Zath nods. "I think that is wise. I should clarify as well that my strong objection is to the timing of any feral outreach just now. If there are those few that have remained redeemable for this long, taking chances at finding them can wait until our own necks feel bit further from the noose, hm?" A slight, crooked smile. "And your other goals sound just the thing. Especially the monitoring. Be very public about the details of the monitoring. Hearing that we had priests and paladins among the WEB and that our members agreed to speak with them regularly caused the largest single upswell in support to date."

Kenelly straightens up, her enthusiasm returning. "Yes, I borrowed that idea from the WEB! I think we should have clergy of both the Light and the Old Ways to counsel our clients. I also want to provide an easy means for worgen to connect as a community. The pack instinct is strong in us; we need our own kind." She lets that point linger in the air for a moment. "And in that same vein, I think we could provide assistance connecting lone worgen to packs."

"Hm," says Zath, his posture growing slightly tense. He is silent for a beat. "The Old Ways?" he echoes inquisitively then, instead of pursuing the subject of Lone Wolves.

"A vague term, I admit," Kenelly explains. "Many in Gilneas follow ancient traditions that predate the Holy Light. The Old Ways are more rooted in nature, and understanding our relationship with the land, the moon, the sun…the world, really. Harvest-witches, like myself, are what you might think of as the priests and priestesses of the Old Ways."

"They sound much like what I know of druids," says Zath. "But they are distinct?"

"Yes…but that distinction is becoming narrower." Kenelly's smile betrays a hint of pride. "I'm not sure how much you know about the origins of the curse. It turns out to be partially druidic in nature. We harvest-witches that changed found our powers had enhanced along with our physical abilities. The kaldorei have been training us in their druidic traditions, and I must say, they are remarkably compatible with our own."

"That's splendid," says Zath. "And unsurprising, really. Magic really only comes in half a dozen 'flavors' as it were, nature being one of them. So it makes sense that those traditions would be relatively easy to merge. I am trying to learn more about all the types of magic on the metaphysical wheel - this is part of how I keep balanced as a warlock."

He sighs, and takes another sip of tea. He still hasn't touched any further food.

"And now I have yet another thing to balance… as well as balance with the other…"

Fortunately, Kenelly isn't paying much attention to how little Zath is eating, or she would feel like quite the glutton. Half of the sandwiches are already gone. "Have you given any more thought to what we discussed before? About differentiating rage from fury?"

His glacial eyes narrow, but in intense interest rather than hostility. "I have. And I believe it may be helpful. My warlock studies bear it out as well. Demons are creatures of inchoate rage and chaos, channeled by warlocks to organized purpose. That seems not unlike channeling a lupine fury to a controlled end, hm?"

She tilts her head in consideration. "I know very little about warlocks, but it sounds like a reasonable comparison to me. I think of it much like the chaos of nature. The natural world has its own sense of order and chaos, and often it creates order through precise acts that might seem chaotic or full of rage. But the fury of a cyclone or earthquake or forest fire produces some remarkable results that almost invariably renew the land rather than spoil it. When I came to think of it this way, I found that I could more easily co-exist with the wolf within, rather than constantly fighting against it. Perhaps a similar outlook will help you."

Zath sighs. "It took me half a dozen years to fully accept myself as a warlock, and I am not getting any younger or more flexible in my ways. But what can I do, other than try? I have a wife now, perhaps even one day a family besides the 6th EU. Longevity suddenly matters more."

Kenelly's brow tightens sympathetically. "It probably won't be easy. But you're not alone. I will always be here to help you however I can. Not to mention…there are many people like us now. I know you must feel the call of the pack. We need each other, my lord."

Zath leans back in his chair. Right, this again.

"It is possible," Zath says carefully, "that there are … variations in how strongly a worgen feels this call. You did mention that you were feral for quite a long time, hm? More time to imprint that instinct, perhaps?"

She gives a little shrug. "I suppose that's possible. But I know of others who haven't been worgen for very long at all who-…well, I assume they feel it. They're in my pack, after all. Special Investigator Thorne is the right hand of our pack leader, but she was one of the last of us to be bitten."

"A person's temperament may also factor into it. As of now at least, the only pack I feel called to is the 6th EU, if they will have me back - and more and more, to my wife. I do not know that I have it in me to seek more… belonging than that. Just adjusting to the idea of marriage has been a challenge for me, after being untethered in that way for… closer to forty years than thirty."

It is possible Zath has lost track of his own age. He doesn't seem the type to celebrate birthdays.

Kenelly smiles softly. "I won't pretend to know exactly what you need, nor even what any worgen needs. As you say, we're all individuals. And we're all very new to this. I just want you to know I'm here for you. Whatever you need. I hope the foundation will be able to help you the way your WEB has."

"That is… very kind of you," he says. Is that a hint of suspicion in his eyes? He seems to mull it over for a moment and arrive at a conclusion that satisfies him. "I suppose the ability to imply another's importance and value could be quite useful to someone in public relations."

Kenelly smiles, lowering her eyes sheepishly for just a moment. "Thank you. I don't know if I'll be the best public face for this. I've never done anything like this before."

"You certainly have a winning way about you," he says. "That is half the battle, as I can attest as one who has lost that half of the battle more often than not."

Kenelly's cheeks go a bit pink. "You're very kind, my lord. Perhaps I can try. It isn't that I don't want to, of course. I just want WOOF to have every chance to succeed."

Zath blinks. "I'm sorry… WOOF?"

Kenelly winces a little. "Ah…yes. Um…the Worgen Orientation & Outreach Foundation." She holds up her hands. "I know what you're probably thinking, but hear me out. Yes, it's a little bit tongue-in-cheek. But I thought…why not show people we can have a sense of humor? I think it will humanize us. Aaaand," she continues, "there's a bit of a double-meaning, though I suppose not especially obvious. Woof also refers to a woven fabric. In my mind, it represents the interconnection we are attempting to weave both among worgen and with the rest of the Alliance."

"No," Zath says flatly. And that is all.

"I've given this a lot of thought. I think it's a good approach." Kenelly gives him a firm nod and patting her notebook decisively.

"Then you may count me out. I am not saying that name aloud to anyone. Not even once." His eyes are glacial ice once again.

Kenelly gives him a disappointed frown. She does not shy from his icy stare, seemingly having developed some resistance to it. "Over a name, my lord? I admit, I'm disappointed. I need your help in this, and I think it will help you as well."

"I am trying to help you!" he says, and rakes a hand back through his hair. "You simply refuse half of my advice despite my experience in these matters!"

Then he lowers his hand. Deep breath. Speaks more calmly.

"Since you are interested in multiple meanings and connotations, perhaps you would be interested to contemplate that 'woof' is not only a sound more associated with lowly, subjugated pet dogs than wolves, but that it is also an exclamation that escapes one upon smelling something particularly foul, or upon sighting a person one considers to be sexually unattractive. Does any of this sound like good public relations to you?"

She gives him a stern frown. "I object to your characterization of me, my lord. I do not refuse half your advice. I value everything you have to say. I mean that sincerely. But you must accept that I won't always agree with you, and in certain things I have more experience than you."

Kenelly also takes a deep, calming breath.

"I will consider what you have said. My initial impulse is that you are overthinking it. But," she holds up a finger pointedly, "I am not so proud that would dismiss your words."

"I appreciate that. But amidst your consideration, do not doubt that while I can only guess at the horrified reactions of other newly-cursed humans, I for one will certainly never publicly associate myself with an organization by that name. I might forgive a few less than optimal policies should you ignore my counsel on those, but when it comes to my reputation… names matter. When I say WEB, the first thing people think of is wide reaching connection. The connotations may be slightly sinister, but we are warlocks and it suits. Even at our best we are a shadowy lot who enslave and entrap disgusting little creatures and feed upon them. This sort of negativity I can embrace. Not the exclamation of disgust one makes at the smell of a wet dog, nor its vapid verbal response."

"I must confess, I was surprised that you embraced WEB. As you say, it has some sinister and…well…sticky connotations. I figured that regardless of name, dignity would come through actions as reputation is earned." Kenelly sighs, jotting down a few more notes (specifically "he hates WOOF" followed by a frowny face). "Whatever the name, I want something that will not inspire fear or caution. We want to show people that we're not monsters."

"But dogs is all right?" His silver-streaked brow all but meets the silver streak in his hair.

Kenelly chuckles. "A sense of humor is all right. In any case, let's move on. As I mentioned before, I want to emulate the WEB's use of clergy to counsel our clients. I know a number of harvest-witches, but my only connections to the Church of the Light were in Gilneas. We do have a priest in my pack I can speak to, but I think it would be wise to seek volunteers from more local priesthoods.

"We're also going to need to make connections with various labor and merchant guilds to assist with job placement. That would benefit both worgen and non-worgen Gilneans."

Zath nods. "I do not think we are keeping our WEB priests so busy that they could not take on another cause. I believe the Anchorite Paluuva in particular might be sympathetic to your cause. As for labor and merchants, you might speak with Avre- with the Lady Fallon. She is both deeply sympathetic toward worgen and well connected with various tradesmen, particularly shipwrights and shippers and those in various forms of construction, I believe. Good work for healthy and vigorous types, where strength is an asset rather than a source of fear."

"That's perfect! I believe I may have made a good impression on Her Grace at the wedding. I'll reach out to her immediately." Another note for the book. "I met Anchorite Paluuva when I applied to join Cobalt Company. She wasn't easy to read, but she seems pleasant enough."

"She has never had a single conflict with me, which in and of itself proves her infinitely agreeable. Especially considering what warlocks have put her people through."

"I've only just begun to learn about the draenei and what they've been through. But even based on that, it's admirable she's so willing to help the WEB." Kenelly jots down a few more thoughts. "I believe I've covered most everything I'd thought of to discuss. Do you have anything else you'd like to add for the WOOooorgan initiative?"

Zath gives her a long, steady stare. "Perhaps I should veto several other acronyms in advance. I will also not be part of an organization named BARK, YIP, YAP, SNIFF, SCRATCH, POO, PIDDLE, SHED, DIG, BONE, or AWOO."

"I didn't say it!" Kenelly protests. "I caught myself. Out of respect for you, my lord."

One side of Zath's mouth quirks up slightly. "I am so pleased we have come to understand one another."

She gives him a bit of a teasing grin. "As am I. Now then…did you have anything else to add? Other than preemptive vetoes?"

"I think other than the name, you have hit upon the best places to start. I have nothing further to add. Except that I hope you found the sandwiches as delectable as I did. That little hint of crunch, from the walnuts. Most satisfying."

After a pause he adds, "DROOL. I also veto DROOL."

Kenelly bursts into delighted laughter, her hand reflexively covering her mouth. "Well, drat. That was my second choice." She shuts her notebook and gives him a bright smile. "I cannot thank you enough for your counsel, my lord. I hope I haven't taken up too much of your time. If you have any more to spare, I would love a tour of the estate. I believe I caught a glimpse of a lovely pond as I approached."

Zath rises and offers his arm. "I would be delighted," he says. "But do be sure you call it a lake when you are in its earshot. Its ego is delicate, you see."