(2025-01-18) The Secret in the Dark

Details

Author:	inkie
Summary:	Aitne Windwright explains to Captain Jo, Prospector Stillwall, and Ambassador Paluuva her ultimate purpose for the archaeology team.
Rating:	T for Teen

Arc: Archaeology 101

Paluuva enters the library with a gentle clop of her hooves, appearing effortlessly graceful and majestic.

Aitne is standing at a table at the back of the library, frowning over maps again.

Jo wanders in, holding some papers in front of her to read as she walks.

Bran breezes in cheerfully. "Lo there, Whirlwind!" he calls to Aitne.

Jo looks up at the sound, tucking her papers away. "Hello, everyone!"

Aitne looks up, blinking, and then beams at Bran. "Prospector! Hullo! And Captain Sparkwire. Ambassador."

"Archenon poros, my friends. Good fortune." Paluuva clasps her hands and gives a respectful bow of greeting.

Aitne bows back, more a cheerful little bob than anything.

"How has the archaeology group been going?" Jo asks brightly. "Everyone is learning well?"

"I have not always been able to attend," Paluuva explains. "But it has been most enlightening when I am able."

"Everyone's doing brilliantly," Aitne assures her. "All quick studies, and so enthusiastic!"

Bran beams!

"That's good news," Jo smiles. "They're all volunteers, so I assumed they'd have good enthusiasm."

Bran smiles at Paluuva, his eyes turning into little upside-down crescents. "That's a nice shade o' pink on ye!" he says cheerily. It's purple.

Aitne surveys Paluuva with equal cheer, looking for the pink.

Paluuva gives him a warm smile. "Thank you, Brannagen. Do forgive me if I'm overdressed. I've just come from a function." She doesn't bother to correct him.

"Oh, a function? Ye must have all manner of those, I expect." Aitne nods seriously.

"Quite a lot, yes," Paluuva agrees. "Sadly, my ability to sit down with Horde emissaries is rather limited these days. Mostly I am asked to offer my expertise and knowledge to Alliance leaders."

Aitne shakes her head. "Messy. Messy business of late, the Horde and Alliance. Unfortunate."

"Something diplomacy?" Jo asks curiously. "Was it to do with Uldum, or something else?"

Paluuva nods to Jo. "I do hope we can open diplomatic relations with these beings from Uldum soon. The tol'vir? I am extremely curious about them."

Bran brightens visibly at mention of Uldum.

"Oh, have ye been? Into Uldum?" Aitne perks up avidly.

"I've got all manner o' sketches, both o' them an' their statues," Bran says proudly. "If any of ye want ta see."

"Ooh, I'd love to," Jo brightens. "The reports I've heard… cat-centaurs, I think they said?"

"Oh, aye, do share, Prospector!" Aitne shoves aside the maps on the table.

"I would be very interested in your sketches, Bran, as well as any information you have on the tol'vir,” Paluuva agrees.

Bran pulls out his sketchbook and flips through it carefully, then lays it on the table. It's one of those lovely quality leatherbound books that can lie perfectly flat without damaging the spine.

"So here's some sketches o' the actual people, the tol'vir…" He points to the two-page spread. "An' then the next four pages are their statues, an' some architecture."

Jo peers over it curiously. "Goodness, I've never seen anything quite like them. It's amazing, isn't it?"

Paluuva marvels at the sketches. "These buildings…they were constructed by the tol'vir?"

"I'd have to assume, but I've not had much chance ta chat with 'em yet," Bran replies. "I'll do some more formal drawings later, had ta do these on the run, a bit."

Jo nods seriously, then glances to Aitne. "It might not be too safe for our trainee team to go to Uldum just yet. With the Neferset and all."

Paluuva perks curiously. "The Neferset. Those are the hostile tol'vir tribe?"

"Fascinating." Aitne is leaning over the notebook. She looks up at Jo. "Oh, aye. Aye. They'll need some more — hm." She considers.

"From what I gather," Bran says, "like us they used ta be stone Titan constructs, then were afflicted by the curse o' flesh… but someone's gone turnin' some of em back ta stone. Bit like wot was goin' on with the gnomes up north."

Jo nods. "They're the ones who attacked the caravan. Deathwing sympathizers."

"I see," Paluuva nods. "Undoing the so-called Curse of Flesh?"

Bran nods. "I canna recall if it was Deathwing himself doin' it, or an agent o' his, or if we ever found out. I was a bit busy sketchin'."

"Decursing, they called it in the Borean Tundra," Jo murmurs. "Which, we had to recurse them to bring them back to normal."

Aitne frowns. "Deathwing? Removing the Curse — huh. Interesting."

"He used ta be the Earth Warder, so." Bran shrugs. "Guess he might still have that kinda power."

Paluuva thoughtfully strokes a tendril. "Perhaps it is not so much a removal of the curse than it is simply Deathwing's earth magic."

"Och, I'm only curious because of the Old God connection, and the Curse originated…." Aitne frowns again. "But I suppose it was persuasive to many in Northrend, and may be just as persuasive a tool in this instance, and that may be the consideration."

"It might be something that we learn more about, as our teams continue down there," Jo observes. "I expect the Alliance will see much more of these tol'vir."

Aitne nods. "Fascinating," she repeats, and pats a page of Bran's sketchbook. Good sketchbook, nice sketchbook.

Bran beams, proud of his son. I mean, his sketchbook.

Aitne looks around thoughtfully at the group. "If I may, since we're all… high-level sorts, here?" She raises her eyebrows. "I'll explain some things."

Bran grabs another of his journals, immediately preparing to take notes.

"Oh?" Jo asks, settling in next to the table. "I'm all ears."

Paluuva nods to Aitne, her brows knitting together in curiosity and concern. "Please."

Aitne holds up a hand. "I'd rather ye didn't write anything down yet, Prospector. You'll understand when I tell ye. It's about… my project, and why I want to take the time to be sure Cobalt's people are ready."

Jo nods seriously. "We're no stranger to taking on small projects that end up to have large ramifications, and I did know this was leading… well, somewhere."

Bran frowns, lightly disappointed. "Not even in a Dwarven syllabic cipher?"

Aitne considers. "Well, it's a matter of interest to Dwarves, but I suppose you're safe in that case.

"Is everyone here familiar with the fall of Grim Batol?" She looks around again.

Jo considers, and then waves a hand halfway. "The broad strokes, yes. We're talking about after the War of the Three Hammers?"

Aitne nods grimly at Jo. That pun was not intentional.

Bran nods, but looks to Paluuva. "I canna recall that we went over that, Luuluu," he says.

"I confess, my knowledge of dwarf history remains limited." Paluuva smiles at Bran. "The Prospector has been very good about being my resource in that area."

"All right," says Aitne. "The broad strokes —" She clears her throat and looks around the library. "My people — the Wildhammers, that is — settled in a city in the mountains between the Wetlands and Twilight Highlands. It was called Grim Batol. And when I say 'in' the mountains, I mean underground, like Ironforge, aye?"

Jo nods. "A very sensible place to live, in ordinary circumstances."

Bran nods in agreement. Underground is the best place.

"Aye, so it seemed." Aitne nods. "But after the War of the Three Hammers, tensions were still high among the clans… well, not all of them. But the Dark Irons were bitter."

Bran nods with a little grunt.

Paluuva nods grimly. Even she has seen the evidence of Dark Iron bitterness.

"So they attempted to… redress matters,” says Aitne. “They marched on the other two clans. But they split their armies: Sorcerer-Thane Thaurissan himself marched on Ironforge, but he sent his wife, Modgud, with her forces on Grim Batol."

Jo nods, listening carefully. She does dart a glance to see if any Dark Irons are wandering nearby. Just because that would be awkward.

Aitne sweeps a glance around as well before continuing. "Modgud was a powerful sorceress herself, and she had… powerful allies. The Wildhammers seemed on the verge of victory in their defense, but Modgud… summoned something, in the depths of the city."

Bran gazes eagerly at Aitne, as though hearing the tale through a new set of words is expanding his understanding of it.

Jo nods again. "I'd heard there was some sort of sorcery involved, but… what did she actually summon?"

"That's — not certain. Whatever it was, it tainted… they say the shadows themselves came to life in the deeps. The place swallowed by darkness and terror." Aitne pauses. "The Dark Iron alliances being what they were, the Old Gods were almost certainly behind it."

Jo shivers. Nightmare fuel. Kind of literally, since the last Old God she met was a Lucid Nightmare.

Aitne looks to Paluuva. "The Wildhammers were obliged to flee. They haven't settled underground since then."

Bran looks like something is finally coming together for him.

Paluuva nods with a saddened frown. "That is terrible. My deepest condolensces for your people." She tilts her head. "I assume you are telling us this because you have something in mind regarding Grim Batol?"

"I do." Aitne nods. "Over time, whatever the… taint was, it seems to have settled back into the deep places. The Dragonmaw orcs took the city over during the Second War. When Alexstrasza was freed, she sealed the place off again.

"Before that happened — before the coming of the orcs, that is — my father found a way back into the place. He was searching for an artifact." Aitne pauses.

Paluuva leans in with wide eyes, like a child enthralled by an elder's story.

Bran actually forgets to write for a few.

Jo blinks her own wide eyes, hanging on the words.

"My father was a Dark Iron, y'see,” Aitne says. “He took the side of his wife's people in the war, and went with them aboveground. But he was never entirely trusted after that. He thought he might… atone for whatever evil Modgud had committed if he could learn what she'd done, and whether it could be fully undone."

Bran is now peeeeering at Aitne as though trying to see the Dark Iron bits.

Aitne self-consciously avoids Bran's gaze.

"So what you're after… is this it?" Jo asks, still wide-eyed. "Cleansing Grim Batol?"

Aitne nods at Jo. "My father believed he'd found evidence – and I have found it — that Modgud had possession of a… relic of some kind. That allowed her to do what she'd done.

"I want to know what it is, and whether it's still buried in the depths there. Modgud herself didn't survive the battle, ye see. She fell in Grim Batol herself, along with all her secrets."

"An' Thaurissan took himself another lass," Bran says with a sigh.

"I suppose it is some consolation that such power is limited," Paluuva considers. "But it could be disastrous of that power fell into the hands of people like the Twilight's Hammer."

Aitne takes a deep breath. "Aye. So ye can see why I'd not like the Twilights to get wind of what I'm after, and why I want security for the dig." She nods at Paluuva.

"Well ye can count on the three of us, fer sure," Bran says confidently.

Aitne smiles tentatively at Bran. "Thank ye, Prospector."

"That sounds dangerous, but I'm confident our people can handle themselves," Jo nods. "But I understand the need to keep this quiet for the moment. Especially given… recent Twilight activities."

Aitne nods heavily at Jo. "I've word from home that the Twilights are moving in the Highlands now. I'm… hoping Grim Batol isn't their goal. I'd like to beat them to it, if I can."

"I'd like ta go on the dig personally if at all possible," Bran says eagerly.

Aitne nods solemnly at Bran. "I'd be glad to have ye, Prospector. Thank ye."

Bran beams!

"And hopefully by then the two of you will have a nice archaeology team trained up," Jo nods.

"Exactly." Aitne nods back at Jo. "Help in more ways than one."

"If there is anything I can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask," Paluuva offers.

"Thank ye, Ambassador." Aitne nods to Paluuva. "I suppose I've — occupied all our time tellin' a story today. We'll dig next time." She smiles wanly.

"Ef there's anythin' else at all I can do for ye, just say the word," Bran says with atypical solemnity. "Ye have my axe, as they say. Metaphorically. I dinna have an axe."

"It was time well spent," Paluuva nods.

"Aye," Bran agrees.

Jo smiles. "Yes, time well-spent. And a worthy goal. I hope Cobalt can help you reach it."

"Ach, maybe I should get back on a squad…" Bran tugs at his beard thoughtfully.

Aitne's smile warms a little. "I'm glad of all of ye. Thanks very kindly. And I wouldn't like to risk your people cheaply, Captain. But it's… an important project, I think."

"I've yet ta see a group that can handle thengs better'n Cobalt squads, I gotta say," Bran says.

Aitne beams at Bran.

"Indeed. I'm more proud of my people than I can even say," Jo says, glancing in the direction of Cobalt HQ.