![](http://cobalt-company.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/writing:2025-05-17-preparation-for-gilneas/style="margin:/medium.jpg) |
| Details |
| Author: | Alli |
| Summary: | Part of the Ravenholdt team (Estel, Shun, and Raschal) meet at the WEB HQ with contacts in the 7th Legion (Zath, Celaven) as well as Gilnean Merelda, to discuss plans for their upcoming mission into Gilneas. ~3300 words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Arc: Ravenholdt
At the arranged time, Merelda Veyne arrives in human form to the WEB office in Stormwind to 'drop in' on her cousin Zath. She pauses outside the door, looking up at the narrow two-story building as if gauging it for stability and aesthetics. Finally, she steps forward to knock. It's a very assured knock, she knows she's expected.
"It's a public building, I bet you can just, you know," Estel says as she walks up, gesturing at the doorknob. "Hey, Merelda. Glad you could make it. Were you able to get a map?"
Sure enough, an unfamiliar reedy tenor voice pipes up, "Come in, we're open!" from inside.
At that, Shun goes on to push the door open. Upon entering, he does his usual quick canvassing of the interior and any visible inhabitants.
Merelda raises her eyebrows and pushes inside after Shun, but she does turn back to Estel to say, "Yes, I have, though it wasn't terribly up to date. I've made some corrections…"
Estel heads on inside, waving to the gnome at the front desk.
The narrow two story building has been comfortably furnished to the extent that its dimensions allow, with a fine rug and some chairs along the right side as one enters, and a reception desk tucked close against the left wall facing the door.
"Welcome to the offices of the Warlock Ethics Bureau!" says a black haired gnome in a white robe from behind the front desk. He doesn't bother to stand; it would not make him any taller. His hair is styled into a rakish forehead curl with pomade, and his short straight moustache is similarly well groomed.
"Well, isn't this charming," Merelda murmurs quietly. To the gnome, she adds, "I believe Zath is expecting us?"
Just then, another person steps quietly into the room after them, a kaldorei with long, silky purple hair and priests robes of lavender and silver.
"Estel, it's been some time," Celaven says with a gentle smile.
"Hey, Celaven," Estel says, grinning. "This is my partner Shun. And this is Merelda - have you met Merelda?"
Shun grunts and gives a curt nod as his name is dropped.
Celaven shakes his head, and reaches a hand to shake Shun's first. "I don't believe I have. Pleasure to meet you both. I'm Celaven Evensong, healer with Sergeant Tyrrell's unit in the 7th Legion."
"Tyrrell is upstairs," the gnome says. "I've been instructed to keep the meeting undisturbed, and keep it undisturbed I shall." He inclines his head, closing his bluish-gray eyes briefly.
"Oh! Yeah, okay. Might be two more showing up, though. Ivri - human lady, black hair - and Raschal - elf guy, green hair." Estel gives the gnome a thumbs-up.
Shun takes Celaven's hand to give a firm shake in turn.
Celaven smiles at him and the handshake, and then turns to nod politely to Lady Merelda. "Shall we head up to him?"
The stairs lead to a landing, then double back to a narrow office which is stacked on top of the narrow reception area. The door to said office is currently standing open, so the first thing one would see upon ascending the second staircase is Tyrrell's silver-streaked dark head bent over some paperwork as he scribbles away.
Inside the room, at such a time as anyone should enter, can be seen a half dozen empty chairs; they've been arranged around the desk as though a meeting is expected.
"Hi!" Estel goes to pick a central chair immediately. "You're Merelda's cousin Zath, yeah?"
Merelda moves in with purpose and takes a chair, setting her briefcase down immediately and starting to retrieve stacks of paper. "You might not see the resemblance between us, but you'd see it in my mother — she's the Tyrrell side."
Zath rises and leans over the desk, reaching out toward Estel for a handshake with one slender white hand. "Zath Tyrrell," he says by way of greeting. His hand is ice cold.
Estel's hand is room temperature, and she shakes his hand firmly with a big smile. "I'm Estel. Cobalt Company. Thanks for making time for us."
"I was able to fit it in nicely, and it sounds important," Tyrrell says, reaching out a hand to the next unfamiliar person who comes within reach.
Celaven goes to sit next to Zath, perhaps given he is here as a part of Zath's unit — the unit Zath is the lowest ranked in.
"Sergeant," Tyrrell greets him crisply.
"Sergeant," Celaven answers him with a faint smile, turning to the meeting.
"Well, to kick off, I do know the layout rather well, having done considerable work in the residential areas," Merelda says crisply, laying out a number of papers. "Of course, I don't know what happened after we left, but I can provide you with a reasonably accurate representation of pre-invasion Gilneas City."
"And I can provide you with updates as to which structures and roadways have been destroyed," Tyrrell says, "and also provide assurance of the relative stability of the situation at present. I won't go into the whole story, but Gilneas is currently largely free of Horde presence, though I'd stay away from the northwest coast, where they insist on repeatedly attacking despite being continually repelled."
Shun nods at these responses before asking, "Have you noticed any odd activity not related to the Horde within the ruins?"
"I've not heard any such reports," Tyrrell says. "If there are any new developments, they've been decreed Above My Pay Grade." Bitterness seeps into his tone at that; one can almost feel the temperature in the room lower by a degree. "Last I heard, the Alliance had firm control over the entire peninsula, so you should be able to move with relative freedom. Unless you're also trying to avoid the notice of the Alliance military." At this, one of his black brows - the one with the silver streak - lifts half an inch.
"This is my partner, Shun," Estel says, giving Shun a look and then angling her head towards a chair.
Tyrrell gives Shun a crisp nod of We Have Now Met.
Shun plants himself in a chair at Estel's direction. "That is not something we are trying to do, no."
"May I ask why you're going into Gilneas?" Merelda asks, as she shifts her papers over towards Tyrrell for his corrections. "You do know it was plagued, yes? I don't know how much of the city is safe now — though I suppose the 7th likely does."
Tyrrell looks at the map, and begins making violent slashes on it with his pen, as though he somehow intends to indicate just how traumatically these bridges, buildings, and roadways were destroyed. The end result, however, are just some neat black X's on the map.
Merelda makes a frantic gesture towards him at the start of the slashing, and then subsides when it is clear he is not actually ripping up her city plans.
"Yes, I'm curious too," says Tyrrell. "What's left of the city is safe, if you're Alliance, but it's a peculiar place for anyone not military to want to go at present. To call it a 'ruin' would not be an exaggeration."
"We are looking for someone we believe to be hiding amongst the ruins," Shun replies.
"A criminal of some sort?" Merelda asks, her brows raising. "That is quite some length to go to hide."
"Which would make it a good place to hide," Tyrrell notes.
Estel puts a hand on Shun's knee. "We're hunting a black dragon in disguise. He's calling himself 'Hiram Creed'. He's got a group of diseased followers that he poisoned with his own blood. You hear anything about that while you were out there?"
Shun sighs.
Zath blinks. Blinks again. His face is otherwise impassive.
"A black dragon," Merelda says, her eyebrows rising. "No, I don't believe I've heard anything about that. Hiding in Gilneas. Hm. Wait… Hiram Creed? That name sounds familiar."
"Hiram Creed," Tyrrell repeats. "Hiram Creed." He continues to stare blankly for a moment. Nope, it's not fully firing. He begins rifling through his desk. "A moment," he says.
He pulls out a folder with some pecular runes drawn all over it in a deep purple ink, and starts reading through it. "Here," he says. "I knew it sounded familiar. Minor Gilnean nobleman with a more-than-minor fortune, presumed dead after the battle for the city, but then he showed up again while my unit was there. I didn't interact with him directly. According to my notes he was not interested in being evacuated. He was set up with shelter and last I heard he was helping out the military."
"Ah, that's him," Merelda nods. "I recall the name from before. I don't know the man well, but… a black dragon. All along? Or maybe the creature has taken up the name of a deceased nobleman, there are plenty of those since the invasion."
Shun slowly tilts his head. He glances to Estel, then reaches for the folder to open it in a way they can both easily see the contents.
Tyrrell frowns thoughtfully, but does not offer Shun the folder.
"Given the convenient 'reappearance,' and the lack of manipulation on this Creed's record before the war, I suspect that the dragon is playing the part of a conveniently dead man with a decent track record of civilized behavior."
"Which means he must be dealing in bad faith with the military," Celaven says, a low fire of anger in his voice. "To what end?"
"Black dragon," Tyrrell says dryly.
"Can we see that?" Estel asks, nodding towards the folder.
"This is military intelligence," Zath says, "and so I've warded it." He points to the runes on the folder. "Even if I wanted to show you, I'd have to do some complex spellwork to make it safe for you to touch the folder or anything inside it."
"Okay," Estel says, sitting back in her chair. "Smart. I'll assume you're telling us the relevant bits, then."
"The bits I'm aware are relevant, yes. That is literally all the intelligence I have access to on the man. People higher up in the 7th Legion might have more. A year and change ago I'd have offered to connect you with the High Commander himself, given the urgency of this terrible news. But now I think I'd do more harm than good, coming to him on your behalf. You'd have to go through Ference, maybe, if you want to pull that string."
He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together.
"But then, you may not need to know more. As far as I'm concerned, this is enough to take action on. If it were me," - here he pushes the map across the desk, with all its X'd out roads, bridges, buildings, and entire towns - "I'd head straight there and ask the military in Gilneas City where you might find the man. But."
Here he traces a fingertip along the map, making sure it's visible to Estel and Shun.
"You're safest coming in by sea from Menethil. I know that sounds ridiculous, but Silverpine is absolutely crawling with Forsaken right now. They've taken Ambermill; they've taken everything. You can thank Lord Crowley and his daughter for that. We almost had them. At any rate… the sea route is easier now, so long as you're coming from the south. But you'll have to take a small, shallow boat, or the rocks will tear you to pieces."
"Sea route, small shallow boat," Estel repeats. "You got any tracing paper in your office? I want to make a copy of this."
"I do not, but I feel certain that Mr. Stopdots has any sort of paper you need. He's rather a … collector of such things. That is the receptionist, downstairs."
Shun grunts in understanding.
Raschal walks through the office door, holding a tray with several cups of coffee.
"Raschal!" Estel waves him over. "This is Merelda, the map lady, Zath, her cousin, and Celaven. Celaven and Zath are 7th Legion."
"Hey!" Raschal says. "Good to meet you. Anyone want coffee?"
Tyrrell just gives Raschal a look that threatens to turn it into a tray of iced coffee.
"Sure," Estel says, and picks a cup off the tray. She takes a sip and just holds the cup. "Thanks. So Zath was just telling us that we ought to travel by sea instead of trying to pass through the Silverpine region undetected."
Shun nods once to Raschal, and also takes a cup from the tray. He eyes it warily for a good few moments before taking a careful sip.
"Aww," Raschal says, sounding a little disappointed that he won't get to sneak by umpteen gazillion Forsaken. "Okay," he says though.
The coffee is quite good. Raschal grabs one himself, then sets the tray on the corner of the desk, earning another glare from Tyrrell.
"Oh, coffee, delightful," Merelda says, taking one. Good first impression, Raschal.
"I rather think the black dragon will provide the necessary danger," Celaven says to Raschal mildly.
"Yeah, I guess," Raschal concedes.
Tyrrell just continues to stare at him for a moment, then looks around at the others to gauge whether they have noticed that one of their number is an idiot.
Then he gets a very Well Anyway look on his face and says, "Once you've landed, probably round about here" - skinny white finger goes tap on the map - "you can follow any of the roads I haven't crossed out. You can see that leaves a bit of a circuitous path to the city, but it will be completely safe, as is the city itself. For now."
Merelda makes a sound of appreciation at the taste of the coffee. Then she adds, "If you need a place to stay while you're there, I can instruct where and how to get in. But I rather imagine the goal is to be in and out quickly."
"And furthermore, most of the places you remember have likely seen all manner of chaos, from cannons to undead abominations. Ironically one of the most comfortable places to stay right now is the old prison. By nature those things are built to withstand quite a lot."
Tyrrell flicks his gaze toward Raschal.
"Hm?" Raschal says alertly.
"Can you run downstairs and get some tracing paper from Mr. Stopdots? I believe that Estel would like to make a copy of the map."
"Oh sure!" says Raschal. "I'll be quick as a bunny." And then he is just… gone. Tyrrell blinks once, then returns his attention to Estel and Shun.
Shun studies the map as they go over it, noting the suggested route with a nod. "Who should we contact once we arrive?"
Raschal is back in a jiffy with some tracing paper, which he offers to Estel.
"Thanks, Raschal," Estel says, and gets to tracing.
"If Knight-Lieutenant Underwood is still on duty there," says Tyrrell, "he'd be ideal. He's been more than amenable to a few irregularities in the past, and he's the sort who knows everyone and everything in an area within days of deployment. Failing that, Knight-Captain Rutherford will know the man, or you might even deploy Corporal Adhabu, if you tell her I sent you. She is definitely still stationed there, she owes me, and she will sniff out any information you need… but only if you can't find the others, who are more likely to know the man offhand and less likely to become a nuisance to you going forward."
Celaven quirks an eyebrow at Tyrrell. "Yes, I would agree Underwood is the best option of those. I don't expect a nobleman will be difficult to locate, in any case."
Tyrrell nods. "The difficulty might be access, as the few remaining civilians there tend to keep themselves well locked down with the military as their guard dogs. But there are of course, less straightforward ways to enter a man's dwelling than with permission."
Shun says nothing on that, but he probably looks like a guy who knows a thing or two about entering dwellings without permission. He just nods.
Merelda nods. "Well, if you do need any more information regarding Gilneas, or the nobles thereof, we are here. I hope your mission will be successful."
Tyrrell turns to his cousin.
"What do you remember of Hiram Creed?" he asks Merelda. "Even though I doubt it is the same man, he may be trying to duplicate his habits and personality."
"Lord Hiram," Merelda purses her lips thoughtfully, thinking back. "As I said, I didn't know the man well, but on reflection I remember a few things. He was a royalist, very patriotic — not very supportive of Crowley and his people, even after the worgen disaster. I believe he had a bit of a temper as well, especially when his opinions were disregarded. If it is the man himself, he may have returned to Gilneas for reasons of country loyalty. If he's always been a dragon, then he'll have been hiding his true purpose, so I couldn't say."
"This is useful information," says Tyrrell, "particularly the anti-Crowley sentiment. He would at least be pretending to keep that up, and so if getting an 'in' to see him is necessary, pretending to be furious at Crowley for losing Silverpine after starting an entire rebellion in defense of it including plans to blow up half of Gilneas City would be an excellent opinion to pretend to have, even if you do not share it."
Though not said directly, this is about as obvious as this man ever makes his own opinions.
"It would be… an excellent opinion to pretend to have, indeed," Merelda says, raising an eyebrow. "It would be perfectly reasonable to be rather disappointed at his capitulation, made for personal reasons, after so many gave so much in defense of the region."
Celaven glances between the two of them, but adds nothing of his own opinion of the man.
Shun nods, "This is useful to know, for certain. Thank you."
His gaze falls to the map for a moment longer.
"Is there anything else that comes to mind about the man or region?" he asks.
Tyrrell shakes his head. "I have confidence this should be enough for you to make decisions in the field as needed."
His Captain Voice. Celaven might miss it, a little.
Celaven smiles, glancing sidelong at Tyrrell. Maybe he does.
Estel finishes her first copy of the map and passes this one off to Shun. She starts on a second.
"How many copies do you need?" Tyrrell asks.
"Four would be ideal," Estel says, and shrugs.
"It will do, yes. Thank you for your time, Sergeant," Shun says as he takes his copy from Estel. He gives it a quick once over before carefully folding it up to put away.
"I can do a tracing of the tracing, while Estel works with the original," Tyrrell says, reaching out to Shun. "To save time."
With a light grunt, Shun takes the map back out to pass over.
Tyrrell nods gratitude and gets to work.
Raschal just drinks coffee. He helped already.
"Huge, huge help, all of you," Estel says, smiling. "Don't suppose you know somebody who does boats too?"
"I know someone who does ships," Tyrrell says quietly, an odd roughness in his voice. "But I do not know if he has an available rowboat to lend."
"Ships are the big ones, yeah? We just need a little one." Estel shrugs, continuing to trace lines. "All good, we'll find somethin'."
"It's likely someone in Menethil will be willing to lend one without too many questions, for the right price. They are experiencing something of a recession."
"If you'd like someone familiar with the Gilnean coast," Merelda says, considering. "There's the Reeve fleet as well. They're Gilnean, the remainder of a merchant fleet that survived the invasion."
Tyrrell nods as he continues tracing.