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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | It's time to get Bryn Baird what he's always wanted ever since earlier this spring: a personal mogu cannon. This one comes with a bonus of meeting another Grimlocke, the arcane party mage, Miserie, who gets to join in on her very first real-life heist with the likes of Little Melancholy, the poor sensitive dear scandal elf Miss Sunstrike, the man who has caught Little Melancholy's eye Mr. Baird, and the mysterious warlock instructor Mrs. Shine! All those runs through the E.C.H.O. are finally going to pay off! 13k~ words. Personal Plot. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
Chain: Melyn
It's near the end of the day on a Wednesday (lower probability of disaster), and the Summer Terrace is living up to its name, despite the persistence of the spring season, aglow with sun warmth and light, as butterflies flutter daringly close to Aster's flower and bonsai arrangements. Kuru the Light-Hearted caretaker makes amiable rounds, and periodically and infrequently there's a cheerful burst of color and sound from Pera Firestone demonstrating her wares of fireworks to passing folks, much to the dismay of any person listening for sudden sounds of a mogu incursion.
Melancholy has grown immune to the noises of the terrace, neither flinching or startling, as she sits on a bench by the center tree, watching the area where the usual portal to the Shrine of the Stars is tethered to on the leyline. She's dressed in one of her new Cressidha Aspenwood™ Originals, and for the warmer weather, in a purple corselette with black embroidery of bittersweet nightshade, and a slinky black skirt of embersilk with two slits all the way up to her upper thigh, exposing the fishnet tights against bare skin beneath, with tall lace boots up to her mid-calf that put her at an even 6ft.
Her hat is a little black one with dozens of purple roses clustered around, with the netting veil pinned to it, and her gloves are a matching netting lace with pops of amethyst stones around the wrists. Her makeup is exquisitely applied, extra attention paid to the perfect blending of her eyeshadow, and her lips not only stained plum but outlined for the crispest delineation. The fel is completely covered by her perfume and the added stronger note of coconut from sunscreen.
She holds a parasol up as a personal shade while she waits impatiently, bouncing her leg idly in anticipatory energy that has nowhere else to go, and spinning her parasol every few seconds, despite having only just sat down a few moments before.
Bryn Baird approaches from the direction of the Golden Lantern. He is not wearing a tie today, but he is wearing the less-faded pair of his canvas work trousers with his laced boots and a crisp white shirt. His shirtsleeves are rolled and the collar open; the sunlit warmth is real. He is not wearing his rifle. (I would say "obviously," but lack of rifle is never an obvious state for Baird.)
"Veil'd Melancholy," he greets her as he stops by the bench to flash a smile. "Should I — I don't know if you want me to be here when she arrives, or I should get a table inside or something."
Melancholy pops up from an increasingly deep slouch when she sees him, reaching for his hand with a smile. "Oh! Here, please. I'm about to drive myself to distraction in my head — I've never been nervous about seeing Miserie, and I don't quite know what to do with it," she tells him honestly. "If you're here, I can talk to you, and not have a fifth hypothetical conversation with Inside My Head Miserie. There's prepared ahead of time and then there's whatever I seem to be doing." She laughs at herself, and moves the parasol over in even more invitation.
He takes her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, and settles beside her on the bench. "She wouldn't come out here to see you if she's unhappy with you, would she? It's going to be okay." He pauses. "If it seems like it's not okay, I'll create a diversion," he tells her solemnly. "And you can escape in the chaos."
Melancholy giggles, and bounces their hands onto her knee. "I do appreciate that. But, no, if she was unhappy with me, she would have said something, I think. I don't know, really. I don't think she's ever been truly upset with me before. But she has a lot of questions, and she's going to have even more, and I didn't know if I would have good answers on the first thought of phrasing, so I've been trying to get to a fifth thought of how to put it," she says. She does like to be prepared ahead of time, when she can be. "I'm sure she'll have a lot of questions for you, too. You can answer them however you like, of course — you don't need to try to be any different, or anything. Just Bryn Baird."
"Whew," he says, and squeezes her hand. "It would be awkward if I had to be someone besides Bryn Baird, since that's basically all I've got." He gives her another quicksilver smile.
"My favorite," Melancholy says brightly. A thought visibly occurs to her, soft brown brows raising with it. "Oh! Should I say anything at all about your hearing to Miserie if she does things that make her hard to hear? I suppose that's actually a general question really. Like before, is there something you would rather have me do in particular when I realize it's happened, not with myself, but someone else, especially if they don't know? How discreet do you want me to be? I realized almost immediately after I asked Lena to repeat the other day that I could have done other things. I was just thinking of how you ask me to repeat, but I could do whatever you like me to."
"Oh." Baird thinks about it, gazing at and/or through Melancholy. "It doesn't need to be… it's not a secret. I just don't want to put people to trouble thinking they have to accommodate me. But you can always tell them to say again because I didn't hear, or something like that." He considers. "Yeah. If you get my attention and ask them to say again, or even just if you repeat it — that's fine, that's good too. Whatever's least trouble."
Melancholy smiles at him. "All right, then, that's what I'll do. Miserie would like to know it — she's a natural hostess type, and she's solicitous of the details of everyone's comfort, and one way or another she's likely to realize something. Even a small difference like making sure you know she's speaking to you would be what she would pay attention to, and prefer to have known. But, it's your choice to say something about it, or not."
She does a scan of the terrace to see if anyone is paying any attention to them, and then subtly moves the parasol to angle a screen from the Shrine of the Stars. She leans in quick to press a kiss to his cheek (how daring!), lingering a second before pulling back, pink cheeked. "You always have my ears, my lips, and my hands, for however you like. At this rate, you'll have the whole of me by Winter Veil."
"I hope so," he says seriously. And then, lower-voiced and less seriously, "If it would help, I could make a list of the other parts of you I'd particularly like to have, but we might make a scandal if anyone overhears us." He squeezes her hand and flashes another smile. "It would amount to all of you in the end anyway."
Melancholy laughs, and squeezes his hand back. "You could always tell me later, when I'm the 'End of Spring' Melancholy." She studies him for a moment. "I've wondered about that since. When you found the poem, and the line, were you only saying it because it was a bit of silliness, thanks to my name — which is what I thought it was, at the time — or were you flirting a little with me?"
He smiles back at her, a slower, slyer smile, and lifts their joined hands to kiss the back of hers. "Would you be offended if I said the latter?"
Lena moves out onto the terrace, blending in with the crowd. No one bats an eye at the lady in her teal and bronze gown, with her blonde hair pinned back with hair sticks. She doesn't currently bear any obvious sign of the fel, not even her dagger or the questionable mogu one. She spots Baird and Melancholy and makes her way over, weaving gently through the evening foot traffic.
"No, I would be happy," Melancholy answers, with a smile wide enough to show the gap in her teeth. When she spins the parasol in a happy twirl, she catches sight of a familiar figure making her way towards them, and moves it aside. "Oh, there's Lena, then." She has no hand free to wiggle a wave, so she improvises a greeting wiggle bob of the parasol overhead.
"Hello, then," Lena says with a mild smile, as she comes up to the couple. "I take it I've not missed your sister, unless she's come and gone?"
"Oh, no, no, she hasn't arrived yet," Melancholy says primly. "She's probably caught on something — metaphysically, not physically, she's graceful — and I think we're still a bit early."
Baird flashes his smile at Lena.
Lena goes to stand by Melancholy's side, facing the place where the portals deposit newcomers.
She arrived just in time, as it happens, as someone materializes in front of them. Or perhaps, a confection of black and pink appears in front of them. Miserie Grimlocke wears a dress with a pink-and-black sleeveless corset top, and her skirt and large hat are a confusion of lace, ruffles, glitter and flowers. Black gloves cover her arms to the elbows. She stands there, disoriented for the briefest instant, before her eyes light on Melancholy.
"My little sister!" Miserie says and claps her gloved hands together in a muted pop. "I was wondering how I would find you, if this place was…" she looks around now, at the ornate terrace. "Whoa."
Melancholy pops upright — still holding onto Bryn's hand — and gives Miserie a wide smile, and then laughs. "It's an ancient mogu palace tent," she says blithely. "Here we are, then." Although she's looking at Miserie, her face is tilted towards Bryn. She uses a bob of her parasol in lieu of gesturing with a hand. "Miserie, this is my teacher, Mrs. Lena Shine, and this is my suitor, Leftenant Bryn Baird."
"I'm glad to meet you, miss," says Baird, rising to his feet beside Melancholy. He gives Miserie one of those quick-flash white smiles. His slightly disconcerting gray-blue gaze is steady and intent.
Lena raises a slight hand in greeting, and then steps back, to let the boyfriend-sister meeting happen.
Miserie's sharp gaze darts to Lena, but then she's drawn back to Baird by his words. "Ever so glad to meet you, too. You must be a rather interesting young man to have caught little Melancholy's eye." Little Melancholy is, actually, taller than Miserie.
Little Melancholy, in her heels, is actually taller than everyone in this circle of people, even if only by an inch. "He is," Melancholy says genuinely and immediately. "But, of course, you'll see that for yourself."
"I hope so, over time," Miserie says, and holds out both black-nailed hands to Melancholy for cheek air-kisses.
Lena watches with something of the air of an outsider observing an alien culture.
Melancholy obligingly rotates her face each way, kissing the air back in sync with Miserie like a well coordinated dance.
Miserie then turns to Baird to repeat the process.
Baird looks like he has never been air-kissed in his life. (He has not.) He stands very, very still so as not to upset the process. His glance flicks to Lena. It very clearly says, ???
Miserie is not bothered in the slightest by Baird's inexperience with the air-kissing greeting. She handles the process all on her side, though it does require a little more side-to-side motion as she darts around to kiss the air by his cheeks. Her large skirt rocks back and forth.
Then she steps over to extend a hand to Lena, and she's still smiling, though her eyes flick over Lena's form and fashion. "Mrs. Shine. It's so good of you to teach Melancholy. I do hope you're quite experienced in the field?"
"I'm experienced," Lena says mildly, taking her hand. She doesn't seem to mind not doing any air-kissing. "No one's that experienced, as the field is quite young."
"As are its practitioners, I see," Miserie says with a friendly nod. "May I ask what led you to choose such a profession?"
"You may ask," Lena says with an answering friendly smile. "I wouldn't want to keep you from the business that brought you here. The pocket dimension, I think it was?"
Miserie stares at Lena for a moment longer, but then nods. "Yes, for the cannon theft."
"Mrs. Shine," says Baird, "is a hero in the fleet. She served with distinction in Northrend and saved the King's life at Bladefist Bay. Melancholy's in excellent hands." There's nothing combative or disputative in his tone; he's relating Interesting Facts.
"And she's one of the founding members of the Warlock Ethic's Bureau," Melancholy adds primly. "And she has a tanuki for a pet, not a demon." More Helpful Interesting Facts! "We specialize in Affliction, which means we often choose not to work closely with demons, even if it still means working with the fel energy, of course. Don't worry, Miserie. I wanted a teacher specifically so that I would have guidance, and an example to follow and learn from, and I would only want someone who I could trust to understand why I would want that. I don't intend to add to the list of 'and this warlock was corrupted by the fel and nearly destroyed everything and then exploded, causing irreparable harm through her hubris chasing glory, sure she was the solution to anything and everything,' gnawing of fel crystals and spouting utter nonsense. Just the usual poetry and chips, and a reasonable awareness of my place in the universe."
"I'm pleased to hear it, of course," Miserie says, turning from Baird to Melancholy. "Though I don't expect anyone sets out to explode. I hope you understand my concern, and I mean no insult by it. I know well that there are those who feel strongly about the arcane as well — I've spoken with night elves before. That, and I know the Kirin Tor itself is far from perfect." Then she turns back to Lena, and asks, "A tanuki?"
Lena looks genuinely startled at the defense for a moment, before her expression is schooled back into stillness, and she answers, "A bit like a raccoon and a dog mixed together. They're very cute."
"I think the key is less in not setting to not explode, but in remembering that it could happen to you," Melancholy says lightly. "That there's nothing special to stop you from being the next cautionary tale, not who you were before, or who you might become." With that though she looks at Miserie with a genuine sympathy. "With the Kirin Tor, by the way, I'm so sorry to hear about the Violet Hold, and the violence at the Citadel. It's always awful when that sort of thing happens so suddenly."
"Oh, they mostly resolved everything before I even knew it was happening," Miserie says, waving one black-gloved hand. "Still, though, it is a little troubling to think you live near a dangerous place that really could fall apart at any moment." She turns back to Lena, and adds, "I do apologize if I came on a little strong, Mrs. Shine. You have to understand that Melancholy's my little sister. I want the best for her, and not for her to be a cautionary tale."
"I aim to be a good teacher," Lena says calmly. "Beyond that, it's up to her."
"How long have you been with the Kirin Tor, Miss Grimlocke?" Baird asks. The question is polite but his tone is one of genuine interest. Be prepared for follow-up questions, Miserie.
"Do we want to get out of the sun while we chat?" Melancholy asks. Her parasol isn't enough shade for everyone.
"Oh, I beg your pardon. We should go in. Are you hungry, Miss Grimlocke?" Baird asks.
"Oh, I ate before portaling," Miserie says, apologetically. "Though I don't mind coming along if you are. And to answer your question, over a decade now."
"In Dalaran the whole time?" Lena asks mildly. "During the Third War?"
Miserie shakes her head, and several flowers flutter on her hat. "I was at home in Duskwood during the war. Mr. Baird, do you have an interest in the arcane? Or family with an interest?"
"Not a lick of magic among us," Baird says equably. "Not everyone with magic joins the Kirin Tor, do they? What made you decide to?" It is his Curiosity tone; he might be interviewing her for his school newspaper.
As he talks, he's already moving toward the Golden Lantern's entrance.
Melancholy walks alongside Bryn, still holding onto his hand until the last minute when they get within range of the indoors, and she's obliged to let go so she can close the parasol, and take out the bag to put it into, and then back into her pocket. She seems shy about retaking his hand again the second time, though she keeps pace with him still.
"When I first started learning magic, I was blessed to visit Dalaran," Miserie says. "It was just so beautiful and so full of knowledge! All I wanted was to have a place there, to learn there. I know there are other places to learn, but I just fell in love with Dalaran."
Lena follows along toward the Golden Lantern.
"I've never been," says Baird. "It sounds pretty amazing. What makes it float?" He pauses at the entrance to allow the ladies to pass through first.
Melancholy pauses with him, waiting for Miserie to go on ahead in habits of precedence, as much as new muscle memory to stay at his side in the field.
Miserie moves ahead first into the building, and then trails to a stop inside. "Stars and glitter, but this place is lovely." She gawks for a moment, and then turns to Baird, "Magic, of course! Far beyond anything I could do, to transport a whole city, but get enough archmages together… which reminds me, they're keeping an eye on the situation here. I really should see some of the mogu firsthand, while I'm here, to report back."
Lena looks at her massive, frilly skirt with a touch of skepticism.
"Oh! Well, there will be plenty of mogu around where their camps are, and the cannons. I'm not in charge of anything with that, of course," Melancholy says, looking at Lena, and Bryn.
"How comfortable are you in combat situations, miss?" Baird asks politely. "That would dictate how close we can get you to the mogu."
"We have excellent illusionary combat programmes in Dalaran," Miserie says primly, patting a flower on her skirt. "They're really exactly like the real thing, from what I've been told."
Lena stares at Miserie for a moment, and then shoots Baird a look as she says, "Do you have a change of clothes, Lady Miserie?"
Miserie blinks at her. "Oh, the skirt comes off. I thought you might be in a campsite. I planned accordingly."
Melancholy nods. Detachable skirt technology, a Grimlocke approved method. "Oh, the illusionary combat program. Wait, wait. I know this — don't tell me — I do have it in here somewhere." She flutters her fingers through the air over a bookshelf only she can see, and pops up a smile. "Is that the E.C.H.O. program — Eidolic Chamber of Historic Occurrences? I was so curious about it! I wonder if I might be able to get into one, now that I could actually go through, and see more than just the opening illusion," she says brightly, clapping her hands together, looking from Lena to Bryn and back to Miserie. Little Melancholy! Fighting the illusion mans! "Wouldn't that be a treat?"
"You've seen enough real combat. I don't know why you wouldn't be able to," says Baird, smiling at her. "I don't know how the program works, though. Here's a table free." He steps away from Melancholy to draw out a chair, and then there is sort of an awkward pause. There are… two ladies present. But only one man to pull chair. Is he… supposed to pull both chair? He gives Lena the ??? look again.
Lena tilts her head toward Melancholy, and moves to get another chair, saying, "Lady Miserie, do you need any help with your skirt?" She's got you, Baird, you can each take a lady.
"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Shine," Miserie says with a bright smile. "I believe I'll fit." She does, barely, and Lena takes her own seat. "And yes, exactly that, the E.C.H.O. program. It really is quite a treat, they have memories from all sorts of people there, so many different places. It's a bit like traveling the world and beyond, without taking a step away from your floating city! I could absolutely see about wrangling you a place there, if you like. It's in quite high demand."
Melancholy sits in her chair automatically, directing a smile at Bryn. "I would appreciate it so much, thank you," she says to Miserie. "Is there anything that you think I should see especially? I don't know what I would rank high enough for in the program."
Baird takes his own seat beside Melancholy, and stares at watches Miserie steadily.
"There's this whole sequence in the Icecrown Citadel," Miserie says in thought. "The Lich King chases you at the end, it's very dramatic."
"That one… ah… is mine," Lena says mildly. "My memory, at least in part."
Miserie's eyes widen. "Oh, oh dear, I hadn't realized." She flusters with her hands a little, and then her gaze lights on Baird. "What do you think would be most interesting to see? Though I admit it's likely they'll be asking you for memories before long, if they haven't already."
Baird blinks once. "Most interesting to see? I don't… know exactly what all we're talking about, if I'm honest. It isn't… standard navy stuff." He looks at Lena. "Your memories? Of Icecrown Citadel? People can see that?"
"It's… supposed to be a safe method for combat training," Lena smiles faintly. "I believe it was shortly after that particular day that I joined the fleet full-time. I don't really know how the system works myself."
"I'm not sure anyone does, fully, except the illusionist who invented the system," Miserie says, tilting her head in thought. The hat shifts a little. "It's a relatively new development. What they do is record the memories of people who've done dangerous or extraordinary things, usually multiple people, and then use that to create a kind of… three-dimensional, interactable illusion that people can progress through, as if they were those people."
"Huh," says Baird. "How many are there? Illusions, or… memories? What kind of dangerous or extraordinary things? Is it all combat-oriented? How do they choose the people and the memories? Is any of it historical or are they all contemporary? How far back can you experience?" He looks at Lena. "How did it work, that they got your memories? What was it like, I mean, the process?"
Melancholy looks from Lena — a real live Lich King Fighter! — to Miserie to Bryn and then back at Lena, a curious expression on her face.
"It wasn't very invasive," Lena says, considering. "They just asked me to remember, and told me it wasn't so bad if I couldn't remember some things. That they'd get other people and compost it — put it all together. I held some things back, myself, by not thinking of them."
"It is usual combat, but I don't see why it couldn't be other things," Miserie says, considering. "They're building up a catalogue now, little by little. There are dozens already. Ooh! There's this one in a gothic kind of mansion full of worgen. Shadowfang? And even things from Outland. All contemporary though, I'm afraid, since the process is new and they can only retrieve memories from those alive. Maybe that's a thing they could work on — it would be very interesting to experience ancient history. Maybe if the bronze dragons helped?"
"Oh! A mansion of worgen! It would be just like home, especially if it's haunted," Melancholy says brightly. "I think I should like to see that one."
"Bronze dragon histories would be interesting as hell," says Baird, forgetting in his enthusiasm to be Polite for Noble Relatives. "I'd like to see all of those, if they ever got them. I'd want to see any Outland ones. I never went to Outland but I heard a lot about it. Do they have any memories from the elemental planes? The people who were down in Vashj'ir and went into the Plane of Water, kind of thing? We were at Vashj'ir but only on the surface. In order of interest I would say, probably Outland, then historical, then elemental planes… then the rest. I'd be interested in all of it. Northrend probably last, though." He glances at Lena. "No offense. Your memories are probably amazing."
Melancholy smiles wide at Bryn, even happier at his enthusiasm for the potential places. "I don't know what I would like to see out of all the options. I don't know what the options are. But, I think it might be interesting to see all of them, eventually. Then, after, I could probably say which ones I like best," she decides.
"Ooh, yes," Miserie says, clapping her gloved hands and leaning forward over the table in undignified eagerness. Her hat flops forward a little and she pushes it back clumsily. "They have this one where you get to meet Neptulon! He's a bit mean to whoever was down there, in my opinion, but I suppose the Lord of Water can say what he likes to people in his own domain. I think there's one from the air plane, too… oh, fidgetsticks, I can't remember. I'll have to see if I can get a list, whenever I go back. But yes, all over Outland, too. I imagine they'll have some of Pandaria before long."
Lena nods at Baird. "I don't blame you on Northrend. You've seen it, in part, and anyway… it's not the brightest place. But that means, Lady Miserie, you've never been in actual combat?"
Miserie looks over at Lena with a bright, suddenly slightly fragile smile. "Well, the simulation is very realistic. Could I… maybe come along for the cannon? I would not be a bother at all."
Melancholy turns her Best Pretty Please Eyes on Lena. Pretty, pretty please, Lena-Mom?
Lena glances over at the other two. "Well, I imagine we can keep you safe enough. And I suppose practice is practice."
"Thank you," Miserie says, her bright smile returning. "And I'll check if we have any bronze-dragon-historical scenarios on file as well."
"What about kaldorei?" says Baird. "Or draenei. You could get some pretty ancient history from some of them. Maybe other worlds, from draenei. Yeah, we can probably keep you safe. The War of the Shifting Sands, maybe."
Melancholy makes an oh! sound. "Oh, wouldn't that be a treat to see!"
Miserie's mouth drops open a little, her eyes sparkling with sudden new possibilities. "I hadn't even considered. But you're right, they live thousands of years, don't they? And the draenei… wow. I wonder if the illusionist has considered… maybe even the War of the Ancients!"
"I would be interested in how it all works," says Baird. "What do you have to do to be allowed? Is it only for certain people or can anyone get permission? Does it cost money?"
"It is open to the public, but there are only so many sessions, so there's a bit of a waiting list," Miserie explains. "And of course certain groups have secured priority access, like Cobalt Company and the Alliance Army and… oh! I wonder if the Fleet is negotiating anything similar? If not, you could put it in the suggestion box!" From her tone, Miserie might genuinely believe that this is a thing all branches of the military have.
"There is a fee, isn't there? At least there is one for regular citizens," Melancholy says lightly. "I don't remember what it was, but I know it wasn't outside of my spending money allowance." That does not mean it is Cheap or Affordable.
"Oh," says Baird. He is silent for a moment, gazing into space. "I doubt the Fleet would require access. Probably not much naval combat to practice there." He shrugs equably.
"Oh yes, you're right, there is a fee," Miserie says, tilting her head. "I can't recall the exact price. But maybe they'd like one buy tickets in bulk, for a discount. And that might mean we just need to pick more sailor's minds, for important naval battles."
Melancholy looks at Bryn with a smile. "I don't know if E.C.H.O. has a suggestion box, but I think it would be interesting to mention it to the ones in charge. We could ask about it, when we go. I wonder if Cressidha and Sil would enjoy it." She gasps in thought. "Oh! I wonder if they offered up any of their own memories for some of them! Cressidha in particular has been in so much news. We might be walking through some of her own contributions! Wouldn't that be extraordinary!"
Baird turns his stare on Melancholy, inscrutably. "Yeah," he says at last. "Probably. Probably Sil too. He did a lot in Outland."
"He was, in Terokkar and Shadowmoon," Lena nods. "And there's me — I was squad for the first time in Outland. Up in Netherstorm. It was a hell of a place, arcane-blasted, though I think mostly it's the draenei fortress they've got in the ECHOs. The ones as were took over by the sin'dorei."
"Oooh, yes, I remember that," Miserie says with a nod. "Our Archmage Vargoth got trapped up there for a while, if you can imagine. I don't think we have an ECHO of his memories. It might be frightfully dull, just memories of being trapped in a tower."
"The only thing I have ever seen of Outland is just a glimpse from the Dark Portal. It was a field trip with Mr. Carlay, to illustrate his point about the fel, and I was only allowed to stay for five minutes, with an entire guard with us escorting us through and then ushering us right back again." Melancholy walks her hand through the air in illustration.
"It was exciting, and memorable in a terrifying educational way," Melancholy says primly. "'The fields fall southward, abrupt and broken, / To the last low edge of the long, lone land. / If a step should sound or a word be spoken, / Would a ghost not rise at the strange guest's hand? / So long have the grey bare walks lain guestless, / Through branches and briars if a man make way, / He shall find no life but the sea-wind's, restless, / Night and day.'"
"It's a world falling apart," Lena confirms. She quirks an eyebrow at Miserie and adds, "Held up in the Twisting Nether by… maybe nothing but inertia, at this point, and slowly crumbly. But… slowly enough it might still be there for all our lifetimes and beyond. And that's what we aim for, with the fel, us ethical warlocks. To delay the corruption, past the span of a human life."
"I'm going to get a drink," says Baird. "Can I get anyone else something to drink? Eat?" He rises from his chair and looks politely around at the group.
"Hm! I could have a snack," the tanuki Melancholy says. She jumps her fingernails against the table. "Oh! Miserie, would you like a sampler? To try a lot of the pandaren cuisine they have here? They also have different types of tea. There's an oolong that is interesting, although it needs sugar for me."
"Ooh, that could be fun!" Miserie says. "I did eat before I came, but maybe a bite of each? If that's not too wasteful."
"We won't want to head out for the cannon till it's dark," Lena adds, "So we've a bit of time. And I suppose there's one other we'll meet on the way."
Baird nods wordlessly and heads for the bar.
"When we stole the first cannon, we did so at night, so as to not draw too much unwanted attention. The cannons are never unguarded," Melancholy says lightly, watching Bryn for an extra few seconds before she smiles at Miserie. "I don't have any sense of the strategy of picking out the best one to take, but Bryn will know."
Miserie nods very seriously. "He seems very observant. I expect he will choose the best quality cannon."
Melancholy smiles wide enough to show the gap in her teeth, and doesn't cover her mouth to hide it, even though Lena is there, too — a new development, seen more than once now. "Also the tactics of it, for which one we should approach. You should see him on the field, pointing out exactly where to go, to break their line of firing, to halt their operations in place so we can get pandaren out of the danger," Melancholy says, bouncing her fingers against the table again. "And we'll have Aszera with us this time, who can see what we need to look out for no matter how dark it gets, because she has other sight. Oh! You know her, though. She said she met you at a party!"
"He sounds quite dashing, really," Miserie says, and then tilts her head. "Aszera? Oh, Miss Aszera Sunstrike? The scandalous elf-girl? Yes, I've met her. Charmingly forward, a good dancer, and also… I think quite shy, in a way. I had no idea she would be in Pandaria."
Melancholy considers that description. "I think that's fair to say," she decides. "She's here on a personal matter, and she's been helping in the Golden Vale, for the same reason the rest of us are here. She's also a demon hunter, so she has notable skills. I've been working on finally fixing my spoken Thalassian with her! I have quite a lot of it down, now, with a few lingering issues of remembering some consonant glissades I had entirely incorrectly. We've been translating some poems and short stories for Bryn, and I've been writing her a copy of the book of poems in an ink she can read for herself." She pops a smile. "She also plays a beautiful pandaren guitar, and I had a chance to work on my horn duo-ing with her."
"Oh, wow," Miserie says, clapping her hands. "I knew almost none of that! Though, of course, I assumed she spoke Thalassian. That's lovely that you have so much in common. I suppose most of what I knew is that she was struggling with feeling a bit of an oddity, which, well, I understand the feeling, if not for the specific reasons. I came upon the poor dear overwhelmed, hiding in a hallway."
Lena raises an eyebrow, but does not refute the 'poor dear hiding in a hallway'.
"Oh!" Melancholy says with genuine sympathy, setting her hand on her cheek. "I hope no one had been unkind to her. Whose party was it?"
"Lady Julissa Noonin's," Miserie says with a smile. "It was a nice party, all said and done. Miss Sunstrike came in with Miss Kensington-Whit. I didn't see anyone being noticeably unkind to her. She was showing, well, rather a lot of skin. It's possible someone sneered at her."
Melancholy blinks twice. "I don't know that Aszera would notice a sneer, but unkind words would still sting. She has a good heart. I don't know who Miss Kensington-Whit is. You don't mean Lady Cecilyah Kensington-Whit, obviously. Is there another Kensington-Whit family, beyond Stormwind and Elwynn?"
Baird returns quietly to the table. "They're bringing it," he says, and takes his seat beside Melancholy again. "Sorry to interrupt."
Melancholy smiles at him. "It's all right, and thank you for ordering. We were talking about the party where Miserie met Aszera, before I met her. A little line of fate." She tippity-taps her fingers over the table, setting her hand down in Bryn's table space.
Baird puts his hand over hers reflexively. "I didn't realize that you knew Aszera already," he says to Miserie. "She's a friend of the Admiral's."
"Oh, yes, was that the noble family she was connected to, the Admiral… Woe's Admiral?" Miserie says curiously. "I was telling Melancholy about how she got so overwhelmed. But yes, I meant Miss Natalyah Kensington-Whit, the lepidopterist worgen. I honestly don't know all the details about why it's Miss and not Lady, but the address is correct."
Melancholy starts to say something, and then pauses in thought. "Oh! Wait, wait. 'Natalyah' a 'lepidopterist worgen'! Like a floating butterfly worgen?" She bounces once in her seat. "That could only be the same person! She's here, too, in the Golden Vale. Well! Isn't this all very fated!"
"She's a lepidopterist?" Baird looks four times more interested now than he did when he knew she was a floating worgen priestess.
"Mmmhmm," Miserie says brightly. "She was ever so into butterflies when we were younger, and still is now. Oh and she publishes on it."
"595.78, Lepidoptera," Melancholy says automatically, and then drops her gaze, a distant look in her eyes, before she squeezes Bryn's hand and pulls up a smile. "That would be the library code for where she would be in." Her tone doesn't manage to quite land on light.
"Well, she's determined not to perish, so I expect we will see more papers from her in the future," Miserie says, nodding firmly. "Perhaps on the moths and butterflies of Pandaria. I don't think Miss Sunstrike is a lepidopterist, though. I imagine that would be difficult with the blindfold."
"No, she's a detective," Lena says, and then adds, "They both are, the two of them, together with another friend of mine, in addition to all the other things they are. But that's the connection between Natalyah and Aszera."
"Is that the Admiral's ladies' detective agency?" Baird asks. "I mean, not the Admiral's. Just, I know he was helping to set one up." He pauses. "Bryling had some opinions about that."
"Oh?" Miserie's attention focuses fully on Baird. "What sort of opinions?"
Melancholy listens, looking from Lena to Bryn.
"Ones I would not have repeated to the Admiral," Baird says dryly.
"About the role of a detective agency, against the Stormwind Guard?" Lena asks, watching Baird curiously as well.
"Yeah," says Baird. "Amateur ladies thinking they could do the Guard's job, kind of thing. Not that — I'm not calling them amateur, you understand. That was Bryling's opinion."
"I don't know enough about either to have an opinion on the subject," Melancholy says lightly.
"Maybe Bryling should meet them," Miserie says with an innocent smile. "Or work with them! Maybe she'd see them in a new light. Or if not, perhaps they would enjoy seeing how the Guard works."
Baird lets his eyebrows speak for themselves.
Melancholy studies Bryn's eyebrows curiously.
"Sometimes people don't want to understand each other," Lena says carefully.
Miserie shoots her a skeptical look.
"If someone doesn't want to know something, then it's fair when it turns out they don't know something." Melancholy shrugs blithely. "But other times, maybe it's just waiting on the right opportunity to ask someone, or a reason to learn. I didn't have a strong reason to learn about cannons before, but now I do, and I would like to learn all about them, and the different types, especially with one that will be so close at hand," she says incredibly sexily (to some people at the table). "Oh! Miserie, how does the opening on the arcane space work? Is it like a bag without being a bag? How are we getting something into it, and can we go into the space ourselves at all?"
Baird turns his level stare intently on Miserie.
"It's… oh, the bag!" Miserie is suddenly completely distracted and she pulls out a cute little bag to hand over to Melancholy. She definitely did not tailor it herself. "Speaking of. Here's your Mildly-Frustrated Void, for all your wardrobe needs. I do hope the emotion didn't truly carry over, because I would hate for you to feel mildly-frustrated every morning when choosing your clothes." Miserie seems to consider the question answered.
"And for the cannon?" Lena prompts gently.
Miseria blinks and then goes, "Oh, right yes, the whole point of today. I brought that, too." She pulls out a small stone with a runic pattern carved onto it that shimmers as it catches the light. Setting it on the table, she says, "I'm afraid it won't be possible to whip it out just whenever you feel like it, but I hope this will contain your cannon reasonably well, Mr. Baird. Of course, I will let you know if there are any further advances in this area. For now, it will need to be attuned to you, and that will allow you to open a portal to a rather small pocket dimension. There ought to be room inside for you and the cannon."
Melancholy smiles at her bag, opening it up to look inside the Mildly-Frustrated Void, peering at all the room for fashion. "Thank you!" she says brightly, and wiggles it into her pocket and bag system.
Baird blinks once, slowly, at Miserie's phrasing, and then regards the stone on the table with interest. "It's… a portal? I can open a portal? How does it work? Can it hold more than one person and the cannon? Where is the dimension, exactly? Can the cannon fall out of it? Can a person get stuck there? Once we get the cannon in, is it possible to get it out again if I want to?"
He does not say "whip it out."
"You would use it similar to how one would use a hearthstone," Miserie explains. "Except that rather than transporting you, it will open a little portal, set to the dimensions of your cannon. You can wheel it in and out as you wish! You might fit multiple people in, but it could be uncomfortable. It is also rather cold. I would not recommend getting stuck in there — you won't, as long as you have the stone with you."
Melancholy turns her smile on Bryn. "Well! Isn't that a trick! The space is something like what I have with the Emotionless Void — it's an arcane pocket dimension, essentially, existing on something like another plane, accessible through the application of telemancy, the study of teleportation. Once the cannon is in the space, it will function with its own gravity, sort of. Miserie would have made it anchor down, although some mages can remove gravity," she says brightly. "I gave her all the dimensions for the cannon ahead of time, so it was made specifically to hold it, and not wiggle it around, so it won't fall out of the arcane space. It might seem like a cold, stark, removed-from-the-world little study room?"
"I've never used a hearthstone," says Baird, who is A Poor. "But I think I get the principle. It's like a mage portal? But instead of going to a city it just goes to… a cold little study room? That I can store a cannon in? Can I stand in it? Does it have a floor? Is it really like a room or is it all… arcane inside?"
What would 'arcane inside' even look like? Maybe that is his question. Is the room sparkly?
"It's a bit more like a space than a room," Miserie says, trying to think of the words to describe. "You'll feel the bounds of it, but you won't see them necessarily defined clearly. Don't worry, it is not breakable. It won't be possible to thrust your cannon inside too roughly and break a wall, losing it forever."
Baird nods gravely. "I try to be pretty careful with my cannon," he says.
Melancholy listens to the words one way, perhaps in a fair opportunity for them to be only descriptive of a cannon and only a cannon, and then… she blinks as she considers a possible second kind of read. She goes pink around the cheeks. "Well! That sounds like we have a plan for the cannon then, and that answers the main questions," she says, her voice a little squeakier than usual. "Maybe you could tell us more about what's been happening in Dalaran, Miserie, while we try the sampler, which should hopefully be here any moment."
"Oh, Dalaran, of course!" Miserie says brightly, easily switching from her completely above-board cannon talk. "Well, things are much as they have been, which is to say that Jaina Proudmoore is still in charge, for whatever reason. And there was that prison glitch, which I assume was not her fault, but technically it did happen on her watch…"
Lena looks over curiously.
Baird folds his arms.
Just then, the pandaren server comes bustling over. She is carrying a giant tray, and she squeezes in beside Baird and begins unloading the tray onto the table. There are several bowls and steamer baskets of food and sauces, a bottle of plum wine and some cups, and a mug of beer. The last one goes in front of Baird, along with a smile from the waitress, and then she hurries away again.
Baird sits forward to pick up the bottle. "Wine, anyone? Plum wine," he adds for Miserie's benefit.
Melancholy waits for the older ladies to set the decision for the table, because she is just Little Melancholy.
"Plum wine?" Miserie asks. "That sounds delicious."
"It is," Lena nods. "I'd like some."
"Yes, please," Melancholy thirds, because the Big Kids are doing wine, so now so is she! She then adds, "I don't know what a prison glitch would be."
Baird pours wine for all three ladies. There is a moment's indecision, and then he sets Miserie's cup before her first — senior noble lady, guest — and then Melancholy's — noble girlfriend — and then Lena's last, because Mrs. Shine is Crew and cool like that.
Mrs. Shine raises her glass to him and has a sip of wine.
Miserie has secured a dumpling of some sort, and is beginning to try to cut it into pieces.
Baird lifts his beer in salute in turn to Mrs. Shine, and then settles back in his chair to observe Miserie's dumpling-eating practices with anthropological interest.
Little Melancholy has much to impart of dumpling eating wisdom. The student has become the teacher.
At Dark On the Terrace
Melancholy is ready for her Second Official Heist. This time, she has black pants (embroidered with a dark purple thread down the sides, nearly invisible in the low light); a black, long sleeved blouse with an unstructured corset-like, black apron style over it that gives her a place to more easily settle her belt with the athame on it, and some definition to her waist; black leather gloves with a lacey adornment on the wrists; black low-heeled boots; black hat with a drape of a gauzy black veil that obscures more of her pale face; and — of course — black lipstick.
She's already secured her buddy system option as per The Plan by hovering at Bryn's side purposefully.
Miserie appears ready for heisting! She has lost the enormous skirt, though the pink-and-black corset top is unchanged. Her lower half has become soft, black form-fitting leggings and soft boots.
Lena approaches with a quiet step, having swapped her usual gear for a black robe to better blend into the background. She's tied a little dark kerchief to hide her dark hair.
Aze comes up the stairs to meet them in her usual black leather, no cloak this time. She freezes a few yards away from the others.
Baird is dressed exactly as he was for Heist 1.0, in loose layers of gray and black, dark trousers tucked into black field boots, a crossbow rather than a rifle. His dark jacket has a hood — that sunbleached hair will need covering in the dark — but he hasn't pulled it up yet, and stands waiting with casual ease. At Aze's arrival, he nods and looks the group over. "This all of us?" he asks. He speaks low-voiced, preemptively prepared for stealth.
Melancholy pops a black lipped smile, and signs yes at Bryn, preparing for Stealth and Quiet and Being Bryn's Ears when his Eyes can't compensate. Out loud, she says, quietly, "This is all of us, then. Shall we?"
"I'm ready for stealth!" Miserie says brightly, waving in an exaggerated fashion to Aszera. "Hello, Miss Sunstrike! We meet again!"
"Lady Miserie," Aze says, moving closer to the group. She's smiling politely, but there's something detached about the expression, like her focus is somewhere else. Somehow, she ends up with Baird, Melancholy and Lena all between her and Miserie. "You're joining us?"
"She was curious to see the mogu," Lena explains mildly. "We're to keep her safe."
Baird studies Aze and then flicks an impassive look at Miserie.
"Okay," he says after a moment. "Let's move, then."
Lena looks from Aze to Miserie, and then to the pair of Melancholy and Baird. She turns to the noblewoman and says, "Walk near me, Lady Miserie. We'll look out for one another."
"I'll range a little ahead," Aze says, touching the sword hilts at her waist. "Just in case we run into trouble."
Miserie nods agreeably, and adds, "You really can just call me Mis. I should've said, earlier."
"Miserie does nicknames," Melancholy adds helpfully. She keeps her face angled towards Bryn, as they organize locations of who walks near whom.
Baird nods at Aze. "You take point, then. We'll head west through the Pagoda and then swing north to the stair. I'll keep eyes out. Melancholy's listening for me, since we'll want to keep it down once we're past the Pagoda."
Melancholy does a happy bounce to her step.
Aze flashes a smile back towards the group and then heads down the stairs. She is moving… actually pretty fast.
Lena presses her lips together for a moment, then turns to Miserie. "Let's not get left behind."
"Oh goodness, no," Miserie says, striding forward rapidly. It's almost a little jog. "I'll keep up, don't worry!"
Melancholy has worked with the likes of Sir Dane Atley the Red, who knows nothing but relentless speed, and months of exercise of various types have made those stick legs zoomable. Just ask her to kick a saurok, even, right now! She would. Mostly, at the moment, though, she's just keeping up at Bryn's left.
The night spreads and soaks in as they travel out into the Vale. The softer hues of twilight fade until the landscape is stained with shadow. The lanterns of the Golden Pagoda are anomalous, a disruption in the still expanse of darkness, and once they are left behind there is only the cricket-song and the stars and the night.
The rutted road slopes upward gradually toward the distant mogu encampment on the stairs, but Baird keeps them off of it, in the grass close to the central hills. He does not make conversation, but watches the night around them intently as they move.
At some point along the way, Miserie conjured water, offering it around to any who might need. Thus, Lena moves along with a bottle of water in one hand.
Miserie herself is a little out of breath, her face already glowing a little with sweat. Her water bottle is half-empty. Still, she jogs along gamely, ready to fight some mogu.
Aze has not turned back once on the way out, unusually focused and coolly professional as she picks her way through the darkness, pausing only when needed, for the others to catch up.
Melancholy has tucked her water away into her bag within her pocket, keeping pace with Bryn; she lacks any of the covert grace or professional quiet, but she has a game enthusiasm of someone getting to play a much looked forward to Outdoor Hide and Seek with the Big Kids, and she does her best to be quiet. When they draw around the central hill, she peers through her veil, and then lifts it up briefly to look through the low light out around them, letting the veil drop back down once she's seen what she wanted to confirm.
Before they have completely left the shelter of the hill, Baird signals halt, an upraised fist. He says aloud — softly — "Hold here a minute."
Melancholy stops not at the words, but the hand signal, for the first time.
So does Lena, and Miserie stops when Lena grabs her arm.
Ahead, Aze pauses.
Baird crouches down and gestures for the rest to get low as well. "Okay," he says quietly, "there are cannons on the lower terrace. But it's better-lit there, and those guns have a shorter range. I want us to go around the side there in the east and up those rocks to the upper level. It's dark there, and from the rocks we'll have a better vantage to control any fight we get. The upper cannons are longer-range, so that's what I want."
Melancholy crouches with him, and signs yes as her immediate agreement, looking into the east — she knows at least the directions in the Vale, a familiar place — and lifts her veil again briefly to peer into the rocky darkness for a moment before lowering it back over her face.
Aze gathers in with the group and turns to Baird to say quietly, "I can deepen darkness, for a short time, if we need it. Let me know."
Baird tilts his head toward her in turn, listening intently. He nods. "That's good. That may be good. We'll be firing — and casting — toward their firelight, which will be easier for us than they'll have it trying to find us outside their firelight in the dark." He considers. "Can you make it darker as we come up on the rocks, make it harder for them to spot us climbing to the upper level?"
"I should be able to," Aze says, considering."It won't travel with us, but if there's a spot less covered, I can cover it."
Miserie looks at her, fascinated, and then turns to Baird as well. "Do you know if the mogu are susceptible to being polymorphed? If all we want is the cannon, that could let us avoid fighting altogether."
Lena raises an eyebrow, but nods to Miserie.
Melancholy glances from Aze to Miserie, and back to Bryn, listening to the strategizing.
"Polymorphed. Sheep. Yes," says Baird. "Makes them a hell of a lot easier to kill, too, if it comes to that. How many can you sheep at once?"
"Just the one, sadly," Miserie says with some genuine sadness. "Can you imagine? It would be like a storybook if I got a little crooked staff and a bunch of well-behaved sheep… but anyway, yes, one. Though it doesn't have to be sheep. Do you prefer rabbits?"
Aze gives a kind of choked, breathy laugh, and whispers, "Sheep are fine."
"I like rabbits," Melancholy offers up as an opinion. "We can also use demonic enthrallment, for a briefer hold of another two, like last time. I should be able to control Bronneri well enough for it now, with Lena's guidance for wording. But, it does only last thirty seconds, and then we will probably have to kill the mogu." She says the last while looking at Lena for confirmation that she has studied the spell correctly.
Lena nods approval. "We can sometimes re-enthrall them, but it's risky once they've seen through it once. If there's just the one mogu, we can leave him as a sheep or a… rabbit," she glances at Aze, "and just leave."
"How long does he stay a sheep or rabbit?" Baird asks.
"A little less than a minute," Miserie says quietly. "Plenty of time to get your cannon in and go, between the four of us, maybe?"
"I don't know how long it takes to get a cannon into the arcane space," Melancholy says lightly, and quietly. This doesn't seem to impact her willingness to go for it though.
"I don't either," says Baird. "It's heavy as hell and they're designed to be moveable but not that moveable, because the last thing anyone wants is for 'em to be rolling around loose. I do not have any qualms about killing mogu. I think the easiest thing to do is to kill any mogu we run into, and do it fast and quiet before they can raise an alarm. Leaving behind a sheep might be a risk if the spell breaks. Simplest solution's the permanent one. But if one's making a run for it or it looks like there are too many for us to handle, then yeah. Sheep 'em."
"I prefer killing them, too," Aze says, and offers no further strategic reason. It's a preference. "Anyway, let's see how many there are when we get closer. We'll know more what we're up against."
Miserie looks at Aze curiously. "You really are quite different, outside a ballroom."
"Most of us are," Lena says quietly. "Let's move in."
"The mogu are truly horrific," Melancholy says, her gaze on Miserie, even though her face is still turned to Bryn. "I don't like to use the term evil lightly, but they really are. This is one of times when death also means someone else might live, because the harm is taken out of the world, and I would rather kill them if we can. I'm not how I am in a ballroom here, either." It's offered out without apology, but it is said with a type of sympathy, for the changes in Miserie's younger sister the past few months have wrought. She waits for Bryn to start moving before she does.
Baird nods to Aze. "Point," he tells her. "We'll fall in. Mrs. Shine, you and Miss Grimlocke follow Aszera. Melancholy and I will move at the back to cover. When we get to the foot of the rocks, we'll pause again and rearrange."
"Got it," Aze says, slipping ahead of the team.
Lena nods to Miserie, and falls into the middle of the group.
Aze gestures everyone to follow. She steps lightly in the shadows, keeping her distance from the mogu patrols.
Baird, true to his own directions, moves after Lena and Miserie. He has taken the crossbow from his back and fits a bolt into it silently as they walk.
Melancholy moves with Bryn, unsheathing her focusing athame, keeping her soul shards hidden through a magical enchantment (she likes to be prepared). She has no great ability for stealth, but she does have a lady's soft tread and a willowy sort of grace that works well enough.
Aze freezes and holds up a hand as a torch-bearing mogu sorcerer patrols idly by their route. The flickering fire threatens to reveal their position as he passes. Aze crouches slightly and casts downward with one hand, and the darkness thickens unnaturally in the area around her, with dark violet tendrils coiling close around her form. She gestures the others closer.
Lena pulls Miserie in, holding her breath.
Baird sidesteps into the darkness, away from the passing light, and crouches again. He raises the crossbow and carefully tracks the sorcerer's movement, just in case.
Melancholy freezes for an extra long second before she steps into the uncanny extra darkness, trying to be shorter to fit into the tendrils, watching Bryn rather than the mogu.
The mogu pauses, sees nothing out of the ordinary, and then turns around, walking away with his torch.
Lena lets out her breath and nods. Miserie stares after him, hands half-raised to cast, until Lena reaches over and lowers them for her.
Aze tilts her head to indicate onward, without looking back, and continues through the shadows as the tendrils behind her fade into nothing.
Baird glances over at Melancholy, his head tilted in a wordless question; he flicks his glance toward Aze, ahead of them, and resumes moving.
Melancholy moves with him, a step ahead of him, her own head moving more in the dark like a black veiled satellite, as she tries to listen purposefully. She signs back at him for just the one hostile enemy, for now.
They get to the rocks, and Aze pauses to reconvene as planned. She turns to Baird to whisper, "We're all here. Where to next?"
Baird tilts his head, watching her mouth intently. He glances at Melancholy and then back to Aze. "I'm point now. I know the path, I'll pick the target." He signs to Melancholy, Behind me, and then to Lena, Behind. To Aze he murmurs, "You cover."
Melancholy moves into position behind Bryn, close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder if she needs to get his attention, giving him a black lipped smile through her veil.
Miserie helpfully repeats Behind, with no sign that she has any idea what it means.
Lena grabs her hand and pulls her back behind Melancholy.
Aze frowns faintly, but falls to the back, her blades still bared.
Baird leads his way, stealthy and surefooted, up the rocks on the far side, picking a path outside the firelight. At the crest where the rocks form a sort of ramp into the mogu encampment, he crouches again to scan the area ahead.
Lena follows, perhaps not as surefooted, but steady enough to keep an eye on Miserie, who scrambles after in an unpracticed but perhaps unexpectedly silent manner.
Aze waits until Baird and all the women are safely up before she moves. She braces briefly, like she might just jump up there, but then reconsiders. She moves after the team on soft feet.
Melancholy is more scramble gazelle than graceful, but some of the reason is that she keeps hold of her athame in one hand. Still, she manages to stop by Bryn, trying to not breathe too loudly. She gives Miserie an encouraging smile and a knuckle salute without context.
Miserie repeats the gesture, her eyes vaguely puzzled, but her smile still friendly.
Baird looks over his shoulder and points at Aze, then beckons her up beside him.
Aze raises her head slightly, and then brushes past the ladies, up to Baird's left.
Baird tilts his head toward Aze and murmurs low-voiced, "That one. Second one in, on the edge. We'd need to get past that fire and those two tents."
"Two at the fire, and…" Aze's brow lowers with her intensifying focus. "Six in the tents. None others I can see. If we can take out the two without alerting the six, should be fine."
Melancholy sets her hand on Bryn's shoulder, making sure her mouth is visible before she asks, so quietly that she might only barely be audible to those with exceptional hearing, but well enunciated with her lips, "Do we want to silence the two, like before?"
Baird nods and looks over his shoulder for Lena. "You two silence. Aszera and I kill. Miss Grimlocke, if we draw company, you sheep 'em or whatever. Good?"
"Will do, Mr. Baird," Miserie whispers, rolling her shoulders. Will that help her casting? Who knows!
Lena gestures affirmative, and stands ready.
Aze turns toward the mogu, her form taut as a compressed spring.
Melancholy signs yes at Bryn, smiling at him, and looks back at Lena, gesturing at herself, and then pointing to the left, to signal that she'll once again take the one on the left (the left has been the right place for her). She turns back to keep the mogu in her line of sight, readies the spell lock with her hand spread open over her athame, and waits for her Go signal.
Baird watches the camp ahead intently for a moment, raises his right hand and holds it there for a moment, and then drops it sharply forward. Go. He lifts the crossbow and levels it.
The spring releases and Aze leaps directly to the nearest mogu, bringing her blades into play as she does. If you saw a glimpse of something other than cute elf in that jump — no, you didn't.
As the mogu turn toward her, they open their mouths, maybe to shout or to cast. It doesn't matter, because Lena draws on her felhunter ability and stops the voice of the right-hand one in his throat.
Melancholy waits deliberately this time, rather than casting slower by necessity, clenching her fist over her athame only after she sees Aze move, an instant reaction that chokes the mogu on the left, a magical temporary severing of his voice.
Baird's finger twitches, an infinitesimal movement, and a crossbow bolt sprouts from the eye of the mogu on the right. Baird's left hand is already in smooth motion, fitting another bolt to the bow, and then the second shot hits the mogu in the throat with a meaty thwap.
Aze’s target barely has time to react before she brings both swords around to cut him down with brutal strength. The blow is not exactly assassination-level, but there is a definition of stealth that involves all your observers being killed. He falls where he stands.
Baird's target, inconveniently, does not fall where he stands. He clutches spasmodically at the crossbow bolt in his neck and lurches two sidelong steps before collapsing onto one knee… and then pitching face-forward into one of the tents.
Melancholy gasps, and mouths a soundless oh no, her hand going to her cheek.
"Cinnamon peach," Baird says matter-of-factly, slapping another crossbow bolt into place and raising the bow again.
"Oh, fuck," Aze says, turning to the tent with blood-soaked blades held high. It's her own favorite minced curse.
Three mogu come out of the impacted tent, and they aren't being very stealthy. One looks like he's going to raise his voice, and Miserie makes a small kind of meep noise.
Aze's head twitches toward Miserie, and she seems to alter course. She raises her hand, and there's a burst of arcane, silencing the three of them.
There's already been enough noise, though, that the mogu are coming out of the other tent.
Melancholy snaps her soul shards over her wrist, shattering one as she hits the three mogu with a grouping curse, and then another shard to inflict one with a trio of shadow. It takes her less than a second to begin pulling on the damage harder with a malefic grasp — no attempt to kill stealthily now, only the quickest possible. The pain of the affliction and the agony sends her mogu into a twitching rictus, though he attempts to draw his weapon, and even though his life begins to drain away, his eyes burn with intent focus on the warlock.
And he's not the only one. The malefic grasp paints an unfortunate target on Melancholy, a clear line of twisting shadows pointing straight to her. A mogu emerging from another tent and assessing quickly, lifts a hand, lightning crackling over his fist, readying to send a jolting pain out to the warlock to stop her.
A crossbow bolt punches through the mogu's upraised fist, and the lightning fizzles out as a second bolt takes it by the throat. Baird is reloading, sighting, firing steadily now. Another mogu drops, twitching.
Lena has snapped into action as well, laying curses into the one of the mogu near Aze, and then soul swapping them to a second one.
Miserie makes another little meep noise, but then the training evidently kicks in, and she starts casting arcane blasts at the third mogu, of increasing intensity.
Aze, in the meantime, has dropped going for the kill and is just doing her best to keep six mogu distracted while staying alive.
Months of fighting the mogu have paid off, as Melancholy shatters another soul shard to haunt her mogu — literally to death — and she drains his soul as he drops; three new empowered soul shards glow over her wrist. Before the shards even have time to settle, she's already shattering another to imbue a Seed of Corruption into one of Aze's centralized mogu.
One of those is dying now, with a drain soul straight to Lena, while the other can't seem to get at the casters past the ever-moving wall of Aze.
Miserie unleashes an arcane barrage, seeming very pleased with herself.
Baird waits for his moment — a beat of stillness, an opening in the acrobatic whirl of Aze — and then brings down the mogu trying to muscle past her.
Miserie is doing another series of arcane blasts, leading calmly into a barrage, and her target finally falls over. This might be the first person she's ever killed. Those simulations are great desensitizers.
There's only one mogu left, and it swings around at Aze. She dodges back and slides a blade through his heart.
She's still for a moment, and then she turns towards Baird. "Well, no one who saw us is alive. Good enough?"
Baird flashes his quicksilver grin and makes a sign one-handed. Perfect.
Melancholy's desensitization when it comes to mogu death is very high, and she doesn't even glance at the bodies on the ground once they're no longer useful soul shards, rotating her wrist to once again hide the shards from glowing in the night. She turns a black lipped smile on Bryn, and signs Ready at him, made into more of a question with her expression.
Aze signs Perfect back and mouths, "I need to learn these."
"Does that mean it's pocket cannon time?" Miserie asks quietly, stepping forward. She gestures Ready and then Behind. Yeah, she does not know what that means.
Lena keeps an eye on the perimeter, but things are quiet for now.
Baird nods. He signs Ready back at Melancholy, and then says aloud, "Ready." He rises from his crouch to move forward cautiously toward where Aze stands among the mogu corpses. "That one." He points to the cannon in question.
Melancholy follows Bryn, gazing curiously at their new girlfriend addition to Bryn's firearm collection.
"So… let me show you how it works, first," Miserie says.
Lena looks pointedly at the perimeter and then back at Miserie.
"Don't worry, it's fast," Miserie says. "And we can switch the attunement later."
Miserie retrieves the small runed stone and approaches Baird's new cannon. She holds it up, pressing one finger into the rune, and a slice opens in space next to the cannon. It is slightly wider than the cannon's dimensions, and tall enough for a person to step through. A breath of cold air seeps out of the darkness.
"See? Easy-Peasy. Now lets move that cannon," Miserie says.
"Easy-Peasy," repeats Baird. He surveys the fallen mogu and steps over one to pick up a dropped polearm. "Didn't bring a pry bar. I'll ease it up some with this and then we can push on three?" It is not clear who 'we' is. He may be seeking volunteers. "It's a half-ton," he says helpfully. Easy-Peasy.
Melancholy looks at Lena. "Should I get Jhazmon?"
'Half a ton, huh," Aze says dryly, stepping up to help push.
"They might be better at this than we are," Lena admits. "Let's do it."
Miserie is holding the portal stone. She already has her job.
Melancholy nods, and fel stained shadows shatter a soul shard over her wrist, and then there's an instantly summoned Voidwalker, hovering ominously as a moving shadow creature of the Void and Twisting Nether. It makes two wiggle jazz hands.
"Ta-daaa," Melancholy says quietly. She waits for Lena's example of instructions to give to the Voidwalker, holding it in place.
Lena somewhat reluctantly summons her own voidwalker, muttering blueberry. Still, when the void creature appears, she straightens her spine and something hardens in her eyes.
"Okay, let's get them on the back corners, and Baird and Aszera can direct the front," Lena says, directing her voidwalker to position.
"You and me then," Aze says to Baird, moving to one side of the front.
Melancholy directs her Voidwalker on the left side of the back, parallel to Lena's.
Baird nods to Aze. "Don't need the pry bar with the demons," he says, and drops the polearm to move into position across from Aze. To Miserie, he says, "We can go in there with it? Move it into the space, all of us?"
"Uh… if you fit," Miserie says with a hopeful smile. "The two of you should, I don't know about the… " she gestures at the voidwalkers. "They're kind of big, and I really don't know if summoned warlock creatures might disrupt anything. And I'm not being biased. It's just order and chaos and all that, you know."
Lena nods. "We'll keep them on the outside, just in case, but… you think Aszera will be fine in there?"
"Well, yes. She's a person," Miserie says, like that settles it.
Aze tilts her head toward Miserie with a frown, but then gets to work trying to direct the cannon. "It'll probably be fine."
Melancholy uses the opportunity to refresh the soulstone on Lena, before she concentrates on controlling her Voidwalker again with precision and a very short leash.
Lena adjusts the position of her own voidwalker, making sure it won't intersect with the portal opening.
"Okay," says Baird. "The demons can handle most of the lifting. We used 'em before. You and I will be here mostly to guide it into the portal," he says to Aszera. "On three. One… two… three."
Lena gestures her voidwalker forward.
Aze pulls forward on three, considering Baird with a careful follower's focus to match the strength of his guidance. She flinches as they cross over the threshold, but the pocket dimension doesn't collapse on her.
Melancholy has her voidwalker keep pace, her attention completely on her demon, not on the environment around them.
Baird guides the cannon carefully over the threshold into the arcane pocket dimension. His focus on the task is absolute, so that he doesn't react at once to his surroundings.
He pauses when he and Aze are a couple of steps in and the voidwalkers right at the threshold. "Okay," he says. "If they stay there and just give it a good push forward, we should have it all the way in."
Lena signals a nice strong push, to fit the cannon the rest of the way in.
Aze moves in with the cannon, and then just kind of freezes, catching her breath. Her shoulders twitch, something like a cat who accidentally wandered into an active shower.
Baird stops too. "Aszera?" he asks. "Okay?"
"Yeah, I… I'm not hurt," Aze says, flashing a quick and unconvincing smile. "It's in now? We can go?
"It's in," says Baird. "I want to check it over but you can step out. I'll just look it over a minute and then be right there."
Aze doesn't waste any time getting out of there. She gives a general thumbs-up to the warlocks as she stumbles out. One assumes, anyway. She doesn't clearly aim her gesture at any particular person.
"Oh, good, it fits!" Miserie says brightly.
Melancholy claps her hands, a doubly muffled sound because of the gloves and she's still holding her athame. "What a trick!"
Baird walks around the cannon, trailing a hand across it like a caress. He crouches to examine the back of it, touches the carriage and slides his hand in to test the security of the barrel's setting, then studies the firing mechanism at the back.
He looks up to grin at the women on the other side of the portal. "We got a cannon."
He stands up and only now does he look around the portal space. "Damn," he says, and takes a few steps away from the cannon toward the edge. "Where is this, exactly? Like, is it a pocket into someplace?"
Miserie does a little soft-gloved clap. "It's an arcane space. I suppose you could say it's a pocket I made, by twisting spacetime? I'm not sure if you'd really call that any place. But it's stable!"
Lena smiles at the cannon.
Aze takes a few steps away, into the darkness, facing a seemingly random direction and breathing slowly.
Melancholy is smiling wide at Bryn, watching him while she idly strokes her fingertips along the sides of her fingers.
Jhazmon drifts idly like a ghost of shadow.
It draws Melancholy's attention, and she dismisses the demon with a brief frown of concentration, and then pops back her smile at the others. "Shall we get back, then?"
Lena dismisses her own demon and nods. "You can close the space, portal us back?"
"Portal…" Aze says weakly, and wanders back to the group.
"Of course!" Miserie says. "As soon as everyone's ready."
Baird gives his cannon one final, affectionate pat, and steps out of the pocket space. He ducks a little as he does, like he expects there to be a doorway and for it to be a little low. "Ready, yeah. Thank you kindly, miss."
Miserie grins widely, and twists the stone, and the entrance — and cannon — vanish instantly. "I'll show you how to use it once we're back. Now for a more ordinary portal…" She hums cheerfully as she opens a bright growing oval, a step over to the arrivals area she only so recently appeared in herself.
Melancholy steps brightly back to Bryn's left side. "Happy birthday," she says. "A little early, but we Grimlockes like to be prepared."
"Then Happy Early Birthday, Baird," Lena says, with a smile, stepping through the portal.
Aze moves next, stepping through with a little shiver.
Baird flashes a smile at Melancholy and touches the back of her hand lightly. "Thanks. Thank you all. Pretty exciting birthday." He moves toward the portal but pauses to wait for Melancholy to go first.
Melancholy skips into the portal like it's a treat, her curls bouncing and catching in the light of the Summer Terrace as she leaves the mogu shadow camp behind.
Baird steps through behind her and then stops on the terrace for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths as he sweeps a look around to get reoriented.
Miserie is the last through, closing the portal with a little snap. She grins at the others. "Now that was even more thrilling than a simulation."