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| Details |
| Author: | Alli |
| Summary: | Robin Amadella Reeve assists with the evacuation of Theramore. ~1000 words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
“Please, only bring what you need,” Robin growls wearily for the thousandth time, as another family approaches the Peregrine’s gangplank with a permanent move’s worth of trunks on carts behind them. “Anything that’s irreplaceable, anything that might be damaged in battle. You don’t need to pack everything you own. We plan to come back here, and space on the ship is limited.”
The father pales a little and steps back to confer with his wife and children. Maybe he realizes how rude it is to bring your entire household’s goods to an emergency evacuation with limited ships. Or maybe he is just intimidated by the sight of a black-furred worgen sailor growling at him. It doesn’t matter which, as long as the message gets across.
Robin sighs. The last week has been challenging, to say the least, and too challenging to face with the composure of human form. She’d spent nearly a day believing her little brother was dead at Northwatch Hold. Eulysses had survived the civil war, the worgen problem, and the Forsaken invasion. To lose him here, to a surprise attack by the Horde, it wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be just. Or maybe that’s just the whisper of a heart that has already lost two parents, and who doesn’t want to lose her very last family.
At least Eulysses is out of Kalimdor now, sailing back to Stormwind with another batch of evacuees and the aspiring reporter, Janice Mattingly. There’s no doubt a news distributor will buy her story now – survivors from Northwatch are few. If only she could have made this mark with a triumph instead of a tragedy.
The next passenger walks up, a familiar shifty look in his eyes and only a small satchel. This is another problem. The opposite problem.
“Come aboard now, sir,” Robin says in a low, husky voice. She can’t help the gruffness, the transformation does something to her vocal cords. “We’ll be heading for Tanaris in four hours' time, with or without you.”
“Tanaris is so far away,” the man says, a trace of a whine in his voice, as he looks back at the town. “It just feels wrong to leave my home because something might happen to it. The Alliance has our back here, don’t they? Do you really think the Horde will be able to get past the walls?”
He isn’t wrong – General Jonathan has arrived just today with 7th Legion ships, to general good cheer, and other allies are on their way. There had been concern that the fleet wouldn’t make it before the Horde’s attack, but the Horde army seems to be taking its sweet time. They definitely could have arrived at Theramore by now if they’d wanted, even at a rather slow march. But still, that isn’t the point of this man’s questions.
Convince me to do this is what he means, and Robin is so tired. Still, she plays her role, and says calmly, “If nothing happens and you leave, you’ll spend a few days at the beach and be right back home afterward. If the Horde sacks the town and you’re here…”
There are padding footsteps behind her, and Tolliver growls, “Trust me, you do not want to be here if the Horde breaks through. You can’t imagine the violence, the desecration. They will laugh as they butcher your family. They will wear your ears and fingers as trophies.”
The man blanches, and looks between the two worgen in terror. “You know, on second thought, I left something in my – I’ll just… I’ll just go.”
“Please, this evacuation is necessary,” Robin calls after him as he flees, trying to soften her tone. “There are mages here to make portals, if you don’t want to go by ship.”
The man is already gone. Hopefully he’ll heed her words. Robin hasn’t had much direct experience with magic, but the portals seem safe enough – and she appreciates the mages helping with the evacuation. She also appreciates the unexpected boon of the Kirin Tor, helping with the defense. She spots the group of them, not far away, circled in intense discussion. Rhonin is calm and collected, Tari agitated, Amara scowling, Thoder nodding along, and Thalen smiling enigmatically. It feels odd to have a blood elf in the city, but perhaps it is a good sign for cooperation. Anyway, whatever the group of elite mages are handling is above her pay grade. Robin turns back to Tolliver.
“That was a bit much, Houndstooth,” she says, rubbing the top of her muzzle. “We want them scared, not panicked.”
“But it’s true, Reeve,” Tolliver says, a haunted look in his eyes. “I pray you never see the depths of their depravity. I will never forget the sight of my brother’s head fashioned into a helm.”
“I pray that as well,” Robin says crisply. “But please, see to your infirmary. Make sure we have the supplies we need for a full passenger manifest. I’ll handle public relations here.”
“As you say, ma’am,” Tolliver says, his gleaming eyes watching her for a moment longer before he turns to head onto the ship.
His brother’s head… she can’t stop the feeling of visceral horror, the bristling in her fur, as she thinks of Eulysses’s face, if the orcs had… but they didn’t. The Achillea came into harbor, if not completely whole, at least intact. Her brother is alive. He is safe. He’ll be in Stormwind soon. She has to keep telling herself that, to stop the dangerous ‘what if’ thoughts from intruding on the present. She has work to do.
She reaches up to smooth the fur on her muzzle, trying to arrange her expression into the most pleasant, courteous, non-feral worgen these people will have ever seen. Then, she turns to the next passenger in line.