From Calamitah an' Famine, Great Heav'n, Delivah 'Em

[Jolstraer]

"...so he says he's a good man, always pays his debts. Goin' on 'bout that the whole bloody time, ya know? And about how much he loves her and all this shite. Drunker'n a Bloodsail wench, ta boot. So I finish him off, take me coin, and send him on his merry. The next day he comes back screamin' bloody murder 'cause he couldn't remember his darlin' love's name right."

The big Northron lad laying on his belly simply grunted, taking another gulp from the flask clutched lazily in one free hand. The other was being used as a sort of pillow, palm down under his chin. He really didn't give two coppers for what the plump Dwarven woman yammered on about - but if she fucked up, he'd probably drag her through the Underbelly by her braids, no matter who her best patrons were. Hell, he might not make it out the door with a fist full of her braids, but he couldn't tell through the haze of illicit smoke and bitter twangs of some Trollish instrument. The sound was coming from the one-tusked fellow by the door, wearing rose-colored Gnomish spectacles and some far off look in his eye while he plucked at the metallic-looking thing.

"Yeh 'bout finished yet?" Jol growled over his shoulder at the Dwarf, catching a glimpse at her hands smeared with a less than pleasant mix of blood and ink.

"Oh, aye. Don't you worry deary, I wouldn't want you overexerting yourself on me." She laughed, and without warning smacked him right on his ass. This produced another grunt and a growling mutter about teats too big and legs to short for his tastes.

"You make me curious, though. Big lad like you, seem to be in the prime of life, and looking for sommat so...depressing?"

"Read 'et tae mah," he said quietly.

"'Through calamity and famine, Great Heaven, deliver...'" she trailed off with a prepared voice, and a few more sharp pricks were jabbed into his back. "...'them'. There's got to be a story with that."

Jol Taborwynn peered back over his shoulder at the Dwarven lass, and pinned her back in her chair with a look that a rare few had been given. There was something in that eye that was let loose, like a crystal clear window into the depths of a rumbling mountain. Knowing something boiled under the surface was one thing. Looking right into that pit was quite another altogether.

"We're livin' 'et, lass," he grunted, and the eye turned hard and heavy lidded. He broke his gaze and the Dwarf found her breath, trying to work the moisture back into her mouth as the big Northerner pushed himself up off the table and grabbed his shirt.

"Keep it bandaged, mind, just like the others. Infection gets in there, and you'll be in a sickbed for a week before you keel over and..." she managed weakly.

"Lass, 'ese ain' wot's gonna kill mah," he grunted sourly. He wanted to reach a hand up at what he could get to on his back, feeling a trickle of blood there just out of reach. He settled for rubbing his thumb over his left wrist, feeling the skin mostly healed from an earlier visit to Mairead's little parlor. Her work was crude compared to what crawled up the other arm. She hadn't even bothered to ask him where he got that one. That was probably another story she didn't want to hear.

Tying his shirt loosely, he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a handful of coins, not even bothering to look at them. Pushing them down onto the table, he grabbed his coat and tromped out, paying little mind to the less than enthusiastic "Come again anytime" Mairead managed as he moved out into the shadowy Underbelly.

He didn't like stories much these days. The less so when they had to do with him. He wasn't one much for stories. The only thing he cared about that came on paper these days were debts. Everybody owed somebody, and some bodies owed everybody. Jol made it his business to see to it that things were balanced out. Most of them he collected for the Pig. Others for various 'services' the Black and Red had rendered.

Some were more personal, and rarely involved tangible valuables.

"Calamitah an' Famine," he muttered as he came out of the overbearing sewer tunnels and into the crisp evening air of Dalaran. His gaze swept out over the wall to the frosty peaks in the distance and shook his head. There was the calamity, all right. The famine, as he moved through the winding crowds of the mage-city, were much harder to find. To him, though, he could catch glimpses of them. Vibrant hair and fair skin here. A certain lilt of the tongue as it spat out a curse there. A grim, faraway look in the eye of there as another gaze was flicked over the imposing image of Icecrown. Few and far between, really, but much closer together than in the intervening years. He knew them, each of them, though he couldn't speak so much as a sound of their name. They were blood kin to him, in a truer sense of the word. There were here, in the North, for what boiled down to one thing.

A debt to be collected. One that was, to be perfectly honest, a royal sum indeed.

"Great Heav'n, d'livah mah," he muttered, ducking into the Hero's Welcome to retrieve his armor and get back to work.

[Jolstraer]

The setting sun sent dust most and spring blossoms dancing on a whim throughout the air of Hillsbrad, disturbed only by the heavy beat of bronze scales as otherworldly beast and mountain of man were propelled to their mutually agreed home. The rigorous thud of the drake temporarily known as Pigshit sent a rumble through the nearby landscape and startled chickens and livestock alike. Their startlement was brief, though, as they were slowly becoming used to this form of arrival from the Paladin and his erstwhile steed.

Jol Taborwynn had barely slid from the monstrous thing's back before it tromped off without a care towards the river, narrowly missing the house with its club-ended tail. Jol watched it go with a grimacing glare; he didn't give a damn what anyone said about dragonkin and their masterful intelligence and regard for the humanoid races; somehow, someway, he had been saddled with a giant dog.

"Nae, not ah dog," he grumbled loudly as a very loud set of splashes set to echoing through the hills. "Ah feckin' pig. An' she's foun' 'er shite tae waller in. Sae nae she can be happah." his voice was coarse, but his heart wasn't in the venom of his words. He was tired, and she - as certain as he could be that it was a she - was happy to deal with his cantankerousness and ride with him into battle.

There was little left in this world he could ask for aside from that.

Pushing the door open to the modest farmhouse, he tromped inside and slammed it shut, as usual. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the interior, showering dust motes throughout a space that didn't quite seem lived-in. There was tack on a bench by the door that had needed mending for over a week. Socks that needed darning and a shirt that required mending in various places lay on the table next to a half-eaten loaf of bread and an overturned mug of sour wine. Cabinets and chests half-filled in a haphazard fashion seemed to sag and lean when one wasn't looking at them, as if tired of their own burdens and ready to give in. Jol took the sight in resignedly, letting out a huff of a sigh and moving to the one piece of furniture that seemed immaculately kept: the armor rack.

With practiced care he unlimbered shield and scabbarded sword, hanging both on the wall within quick access before laboriously undoing buckles and clasps to remove layers of metal that saw him through the day. Each piece was looked over for signs of wear before it was reverently placed on the rack in its proper place. Helm, gorget, pauldrons, couters, vambraces, gauntlets. The breastplate was next, but as he pulled the unbuckled back and breastplate over his head, there was a light clank fromt he top of his foot, followed by a thud and the sound of something rolling to a stop.

Placing the breastplate on the stand distractedly, he looked around for the source of the sound. When his eye fixed on it, he moved towards it, ignoring the loud clattering of armor falling to the floor.

His steel-plated boots stopped on either side of it, guarding it from any vermin that might decide such an object must become a part of their collection. Slowly, ever so slowly, he bent at the knees and nelt there, peering down at the object with a mixture of hesitance and eagerness. With a large, weathered paw he reached down and clasped the object between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it up to eye level wearily. It was all of one piece, gold, and tarnished in places. The only place he ever bothered to remove the tarnish was along the engraving on the inner edge. There in the dim embrace of twilight he could still read it as if it were carved on his eye and not the precious metal in his clutch. With the Light I give you my heart, for my Light is your love.

Twenty years, and it still gleamed just so in the light.

Forgetting the rest of his armor, Jol plodded distractedly to the padded chair by the window, thumping into it with little concern for feeling. His gaze was transfixed on the ring, and the howling pit of emotion he shied away from on a daily basis. A man wasn't a soldier if he let the emotions of the other life weigh on him; the emotions of war were all that held currency for him. For thirty years he had been tempered in that; rage, anger, hate, loathing, and an unquenchable thirst for seeing your enemy buried beneath the weight of your hammer, proclamations of the Light heralding you victorious. These were the tenements of war as he had learned them. But there were other emotions in that deep dark pit within, ones he had buried for seven long years now. Ones he knew even he could not stand against, despite all his strength.

Holding the ring up in the failing light, his gaze wandered out the window. Internally, he took that first step out into the reckless void.

***

Seven Years Ago

"Papa! Papa!" the little voice demanded, sprinting down the hallway from her small room.

Another female voice followed it, though this one held the deeper and more dulcet tones of maturity. "Tris!" Aedranna called after her daughter, walking out of the small room carrying the one shoe that wasn't on her daughter's foot. "D'nae be runnin' in tha 'ouse!"

With a rebellious giggle, Tristannia Taborwynn launched herself at her father, happily colliding with his legs. The vitality of youth afforded protection against meeting such a solid surface. "Papa! Pick mah up!" Chubby little arms demanded upward.

Jol stooped to wisk up the little six-year old girl in a pair of big bear arms, smiling broadly as he did.

"'Old 'er, woul' yeh?" Aedranna asked, holding up the shoe by way of explanation.

"Oi, she be gittin' ah bit tae big tae han'le, eh?" Jolly laughed, nuzzling noses with his darling little girl.

Tristannia squiggled as her father turned her around, little legs kicking slightly. Aedranna leveled her daughter's rebellion with a stern gaze and Tris automatically quieted down and let her mother pull the shoe and tie the single lace. "Was tha' realleh sae bad?" she asked, kissing Tris' nose. "A' leas' Ah do nae 'ave sae much trouble wit' yeh," she added, coming to tip-toes to kiss her husband's cheek.

"Mm, yeh ain' d'served nae mischief in tha las' few mont's, ayeh," he chuckled, setting twirling Tris around to a peal of the child's laughter. "Speakin' o'which, ah'm off'n ag'in," he said, barely managing a wave of the parchment clutched in hands that were busily clinging to his little girl.

It was always the way, Aedranna thought, but she smiled in quiet understanding. "An' wha' is 'et this time?" she asked.

"Och, bunch o'farmers raisin' cane. Sommat wit' tha lates' harves' o'grain 'er sommat. 'Oo ken wit' tha fiel' folk, eh? If'n ah dinnae ken bettah ah'd bet 'et wos all 'bout sommat's prize pig got intae sommat othah's pried pum'kins an' raised ah did wot pigs dae - eat an' waller." Jolly squenched his nose up and put it up to Tris'. "Messah messah pigs, wallerin' in tha mud!"

"Messah! Messah!" tris giggled, nuzzling her dad and making little pig noises.

Dranna laughed quietly. "Yeh hush yerself," she chided her husband. "Yeh ken as well as Ah 'ow importan' they are, else we wouldnae be eatin' much, woul' we?" Her expression was a 'you know I'm right' sort. "Me fathah was a farmah."

"Oi, well..." Jol trailed off in a lighthearted grumble, setting Tristannia down on the floor with much protestation from the wee one. Without hesitation Jolly reached out and pulled Aedranna rather forcefully into his arms, as it was rather common for him to do. "Yeh come be tha dipl'mat tae tha pigs an' ah'll stay 'ome wit' me bonnie lassie, ayeh?"

"Aw, luv, Ah dunnae thank Ah woul' look 'at good in yer armah," she said with a happy smile. Sadness at his imminent departure lingered behind it, but she was getting used to that. Aedranna wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned against him.

Meanwhile, Tris was running around their feet. "'Ey! Stop tha'! Me!" She tugged at her father's pants leg.

Jolly chuckled and ruffled the little girl's hair, otherwise ignoring her protest as he paid full attention on the wife in his arms. Looking down into her eyes he smiled, one that was warm and full and made both eyes sparkle like the sky on a clear spring day. "Wot d'yeh say? Ah turn me papers in t'day. We take tha savin's an' march raight on doen tae McGillet's in Tyr's Han' an' make 'im gimme me da's forge back. Jes' yeh, an' mah, an' Tris, an' all tha res' o'tha wee ones we wan', ayeh?" he asked, pressing his forehead to hers to stare her in the eyes.

"Mm," she said, feeling the warmth of the gaze and the dream shared in his words. "Tha' soun's like 'et woul' be won'erful," she breathed, wanting to close her eyes and imagine it, but she didn't want to look away from his so she didn't and just smiled. She'd always wanted a big family.

Every time they spoke of it, it always came down to this. It was right there in his chest, ready to say 'Aye' and do it. Pack the family on a cart and head to southern Lordaeron, and build a family just like his father had. Hard work, and the quiet peace of the countryside of the most beautiful land in all the world.

But like before, the anticipation in his chest was tamped down by the responsibility on his mind. Letting out a low, ragged sigh, he closed his eyes then. "Farmahs fuhst," he sighed, but opened his eyes and let the smile return. "Soon's ah git back from Andor'al, ah turn in me papers, love. Twennah yeahs be ah lon' time, wot's ahnothah week, ayeh? Meanwhile me bonnie lassies ken start packin' 'ere thangs an' git us readah tae be on 'er wey sout' soon as ah cross tha White Gates, ayeh?"

Aedranna felt a quiet sort of excitement swell in the center of her chest. She bit her lower lip, staring hard into his eyes. "D'yeh reallah mean 'et?" she asked softly.

He took a breath to test himself. Right there in his chest, the decision was made, finally this time. With a blooming grin, he nodded once, his eyes twinkling. "Ayeh love. Ah trulah dae. This time, we goe sout'. Ah'll miss 'ome, but..." he took a deep breath, letting it out with a burst of exhiliration. "We ken make our oan 'ome, ayeh?"

A smile broke out more plainly on her face, and she surged forward the extra few inches to wrap her arms more solidly around his neck and hug him close.

Jolly laughed, a rich laugh that was deep in his chest. Happily, he picked up Aedranna and spun her around in a great bear hug, mindful of the giddy child dancing around their feet. Setting her down, he pulled a little away, just enough to look into her eyes again, and run his hand through her silken hair the color of a rusty fall. Those green eyes of hers peered back up at him intently, and it only made him smile more.

"Annahthin' fer yeh, me bonnie lassie," he whispered, and kissed her.

[Nykkolaia]

...several years ago...

The dirt shivered. A breeze was blowing by, but it carried foul smells... death, smoke. Something was burning and not far away.

From beneath, the shuddering of the earth continued and grew stronger. It localized and tumbled upward in an ascending peak until it broke and clumps of wet dirt fell along and rejoined its brethren.

Nails pierced the surface. First one hand, and then the other. Called by a magic unknown and not understood, hands splayed outward and grasped the loosely packed dirt. Preternatural strength strung the muscles of the arms to haul the body from the grave, one inch at a time. The mouth gasped for air that it no longer needed as the head cleared the surface.

Red hair was now black and brown with dirt and mud. Bits of root and insect clung to lackluster strands. The body had not been in the grave long and was still whole, only the dress showed signs of its tenure in the dirt - tears and rips, patches darkened with mud.

Laboriously, the woman's body made its way to the surface in her entirety.

Awareness.

The woman was aware of the existence around her, if little else. She looked down at herself and saw the dirt under her nails and clinging to her dress and her skin. There was little in her mind but the sense that something was wrong about this. She knew that something was missing and she had the vague sensation of what it was, but not the perfect knowledge.

Who am I?

Slowly, she turned her body. The movements were awkward and less instinctively driven than the crawl from the grave had been. Eyes that had once been green and human now glowed with an unholy light, although she was unaware of this as they fell on the great stone. It sat just behind her and she looked at it, recognizing the rough engraving as words. Words she could read.

Aedranna Taborwynn

It was... a name. A name. It must be her name. She was Aedranna Taborwynn, for she had been lying in a pile of earth at the base of this stone, and she felt a small shudder of sorrowful recognition run through her when she said the name to herself in her mind. And yet, there was something else... Trying to find out what it was, she stared at the second half of the name.

Taborwynn. Some new emotion ran through her. It was like the cold, and yet not. Somewhere inside she knew that the cold would no longer bother her, and that this chill was something else.

Fear. It was fear. Yet... why would the sound of her own name cause her fear?

Before she could think about it too deeply, something new happened. Some new song sung into her mind and the whispers began to surround her as surely as the night's breeze. She was being called... somewhere and by someone. Aedranna knew that she could not refuse the call, and with no memories other than a name to fall back on, why bother to try?

[Nykkolaia]

...far more recently...

Aedranna Taborwynn had known several years since she had 'awoken'.

The memories around the exact event had grown into a haze since, but she recalled some of the moments and sensations. She remembered the instant she saw the name on the stone and the feeling that it created, and she remembered feeling that pull within. Now, she also remembered how little of everything else she had noticed at that time.

Much had happened since then. Much had changed. She had followed the drive put into her, but the events of Light's Hope had changed her, like the others, and now she felt... almost content with her path. Even if she didn't feel natural, at least her work did. Yet even through all of these years and events and changes, within and without, she had never returned here...

...until now.

Unlike the way out, on the way in she paid attention to the things around her. She hoped that maybe this time she would see something that sparked a memory and could help dig up what was so deeply buried within her mind.

There had oft been occasional whispers that hinted at things, but nothing solid. She could remember no more now than she had on the day she had climbed out of the dirt, and she tried not to think about it. But it bothered her, because she knew that there was something there that she just couldn't get to. It was maddening, as if there weren't enough of that around.

Aedranna had experienced so much to show her that the world did not care for her... and she did not even have any good memories to fall back on, comfort herself with. Only vague sensations of once known joy, and yet fear and guilt as well. And the terrible knowledge that these things had once existed for her and she had no idea what they were.

Reaching the graveyard - in a place called Brill - she found she was disturbed on some deep level to see that someone had cleaned the graves. It looked like nothing had happened, and yet she was certain that this was the grave she had dug her way clear of. She saw the name on the stone; the one that she had read that night, when her mind began.

Now dressed in plate armor and weaponry, runic magic, it seemed like it had been someone else... and yet it hadn't been. She knew it.

Aedranna looked around and saw another grave, right beside hers. She hadn't noticed it before, but it looked just like hers. The shape and the kind of stone, the way the words were carved into the rock. It was the same, and yet these two were different from the others in this graveyard. Stepping over to it, she faced it straight on and felt a strange feeling in the bottom of her spirit.

Tristannia Taborwynn

Taborwynn... the same name that was on her own grave stone. And yet, who was this Tristannia? Deep within, she felt emotions stirring. Guilt. Sorrow. Warmth. She did not understand them. Was this a mother? Daughter? Sister?

Kneeling down in the soft dirt, Aedranna pressed her fingers against the stone. She ran her fingertips through the deeply dug letters that spelled out this ...person's name. Foolishly she thought that she could summon the memory of what this name meant to her if she touched it, and yet it didn't work. Her tactile contact with a name engraved in a stone slab did nothing to bring it to mind.

She felt tears slipping down her cheeks. Strange how things like that should still work, even though she wasn't precisely alive any more... although she didn't seem to be precisely dead, either.

What am I? Who am I?

Common questions that she did not think she would ever escape. Now, to add to them, she had to wonder who it was that had been laid beside her. She had to now second guess herself and her own wisdom for returning to this place, after so long. She had hoped to find answers and had instead only found one more maddening question to add to the list, when looking upon this second grave.

Who were you?