“Now … Eli wasn’t his real name, no,” Sal Saldean began, pausing to gather his thoughts before he went on with the story. “Y’see, he was one of the first orphans Salma an’ me took in, way back when th’ Orcs were pushin’ northward durin’ th’ First War, an’ our oldest boy, William, took t’ callin’ the kid Eli.” Sal chuckled softly. “Th’ nickname stuck, and we’ve kept on calling him Eli since.”
“He was such a sweet dear,” Salma chimed in, her eyes moist from the memories. “I dun think he was more than seven years old when he showed up on our doorstep, all covered in soot an’ scared nearly witless … we knew near all the homesteads out southaways must’ve been burned t’ the ground by all them greenskins.” There was a grim pause before she continued. “Most children his age would’ve grown up with a seethin’ hatred for what’d been done to him by them Orcs, but he never did hold a grudge.” Salma smiled weakly. “I guess that jus’ added to what he was. He was a light of hope to us.”
Her husband picked up the unspoken cue. “He lived with us fer several months, maybe a few years. ‘Twas like he was one o’ our own. In fact, he an’ Willy were practically brothers by th’ time we figgered it wasn’t safe no more fer all the orphans we kept takin’ in, Eli included.” Sal sighed heavily. “So we sent ‘em off to the local port an’ shipped all of ‘em youngin’s t’ Lordaeron, where we figgered it’d be better fer ‘em all. Salma’s sister up that a-ways was a priestess o’ th’ Light, and she took all o’ them in once she got word they were headed her way.”
“Th’ boys’d write us back reg’arly,” the elderly housewife continued. “That’s how we learned Eli got enrolled in one of them fancy academies up in Lordaeron. Willy, o’ course, didn’ want none of that schooling stuff.” Salma chuckled quietly, but her eyes were solemn. “He was about thirteen by then, too old t’ get enrolled anyhow. He headed back down t’ Westfall as fast as he could.” She smiled wanly. “He did go back t’ Lordaeron ta visit a little bit fer us ev’ry now an’ then … keep tabs on our loved ones.”
“When Eli finally came back from Lordaeron, he let on that he was trainin’ t’ become a paladin!” Sal Saldean slapped his knee, his voice edged with pride. “Who would’a thought it, tha’ little sooty boy who showed up at our doorstep all them years before, learnin’ t’ wield the Holy Light?”
Eli blinked.
“A paladin?" Tuan finally asked, noticeably stunned.
“Yep!” Sal grinned. “And tha’ was back when Stormwind still had good things goin’ fer it. Eli moved down int’ the city jus’ t’ be near the Cathedral fer his trainin’, and it was just a few days’ ride from Westfall!”
Salma grinned along with Sal, the same beaming pride shining through her haggard exterior. “Lots of Eli’s first missions fer the Church were dealin’ with the growin’ bandit prol’lems ‘round here-abouts. So whenever his work swung him by here, he’d make it a point to visit me an’ Sal, and even help out aroun’ the farm with Willy.” She paused suddenly. “Oh, William …” She bit her lip.
The elderly couple grew noticeably sombre. “Well … it was around when th’ Third War started rollin’ around,” Sal picked up where his wife left off. “Willy went up north, like he did ev’ry year, t’ check in on our family up thar.” Another pause. “T’ be brief … th’ Scourge took ‘im.”
Tuan sighed quietly and shook her head.
Salma wrung her hands, misty-eyed again. “After we lost Willy, Eli was all we had left.” She looked up at her guests with the kind of expression a mother would have only for her children if they were in danger. “He wasn’t our blood, but he sure made it clear that he thought of us like his own … so … so you can un’nerstand how it must feel like, knowin’ tha’ closest thing you have left fer a son is bein’ sent t’ fight th’ Undead at th’ front lines.” The old woman hiccupped. “I didn’ want him t’ go, but he said he was goin’ back fer Willy, an’ fer the fact that someone had t’ be there, fightin’ fer the ones who couldn’t fight fer themselves.” Salma fought back the waxing tears, managing a wan smile. “He was like that, y’ know …”
“Anyways, he did try t’ keep writin’ us.” The old farmer picked up on his wife’s unconscious cue. “Told us how Arthas went batshit crazy on his own men, how he himself ended up in some backwater internment camp out in Arathi …” Sal shook his head at the stupidity of what had happened to his adopted son, then raised his head with a smirk. “When Eli finally did come back down from Lordaeron again, he wasn’t a Silver Hand Paladin no more. He came back a Cleric of the Argent Dawn.”
At the mention of the legendary organization, Eli’s mind flashed again; the rising silver sun sigil of the Dawn flickering through a kaleidoscope of memories in his mind. Next to him, Tuan glanced at her temporarily stunned Death Knight companion, and then glanced back at the elderly couple, who were once again beaming with pride. In her face, the trained she-rogue revealed next to nothing, but her thoughts were reeling, half-buried images and words tumbling over each other.
“Eli served th’ Dawn as a Circuit Rider, and he plant’d an’ pastor’d a slew of churches this side of Stormwind,” Salma continued, a warm light in her eyes. “An’ he always made it a point t’ visit us whenever his circuit brought him back t’ Westfall.” Her smile faded. “At least he did … up until a couple or so years ago.”
The Death Knight finally came out of his own unwilling reverie. “… what happened then?”
Salma only dropped her face into her hands. Sal rested his arm around her in comfort, and then began his answer. “One day, he didn’t show up fer his appointed rounds. We … we were so danged worried, but we were left in th’ dark fer several weeks.” Sal’s face hardened, but it was clear that he was fighting back his own emotions. “Then … Salma an’ me finally got a letter from the Argent Dawn, explaining what had happened to Eli.”
A stunned silence. The Death Knight sat up from his slumped position, only to drop back hard into the dangerously creaking couch as the pieces fell into place inside his mind. He turned his head toward the grieving elderly couple. His voice was very quiet when he spoke. “… he died, didn’t he?”
The two weary farm folk nodded simultaneously. “He … he was killed fightin’ the Scourge,” Salma finally spoke after a long pause to regain her composure. She was still unable to hold back her tears; neither could she control the shiver in her voice. “He was an active sergeant fer the Dawn during th’ Second Scourge Invasion. I … I figger’d th’ Dawn was jus’ short on officers an’ … an’ Eli jus’ volunteered t’ fill th’ gap …” She sniffled and smiled, a weak but brave smile of genuine pride. “He’d’ve done somethin’ like that.”
Eli sat there quietly for a moment, sensing Tuan’s eyes on him as if though she shared that same eerie feeling that kept running through his deadened guts. There was another flash in his mind: once again the red, hard-packed earth replaced the world around him, and hovering above his vision a dark and gloating spectre, a blade poised for a killing blow …
“Where’d he die?” Tuan spoke up, snapping the Death Knight out of his involuntary relapse. The she-rogue’s voice was level, but there was a peculiar timbre to it, if one was poised enough to hear it.
Salma and Sal Saldean exchanged glances, then Sal answered morosely: “Blasted Lands. He was leadin’ a platoon of the Dawn’s warriors int’ th’ Blasted Lands.”
“Oh holy Light, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Tuan threw a surprised glance at Eli, as his words mirrored perfectly the turmoil that threatened to engulf her every residual sense of politeness. The Death Knight’s outburst just now was virtually the only thing keeping the she-rogue from leaping off her perch on the couch and marching around the room in a glorious tantrum.
Eli, however, placed a hand on his hooded head, feeling something akin to a grinding migraine building up while he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a folded piece of seemingly non-descript parchment. There was a pause while the Death Knight gathered his wits again. Then, he addressed the elderly couple directly. “You said … you said that Eli wasn’t his real name when you started tellin’ me all this.”
Simultaneous nods. Eli sensed the sentiment. He drew a deep breath, and then he dropped the question that hung like a titanic millstone in the air: “What was his real name?”
A pause.
“Eleazar Thomaius Abraham.”
Tuan immediately shot off the couch, striding deeper into the room where she stopped abruptly, standing with her back to the elderly couple and a hand over her face.
Ignoring her, Eli handed the Saldeans the parchment, and their eyes widened when they saw the seal on the folded paper. After looking at each other for the longest moment, they opened the parchment, and perused the contents.
Salma fainted.
~||~
When the elderly woman came to again, she was laid out on the couch with a tall travelling cloak draped over her. The she-rogue was kneeled next to her, gently dabbing her forehead with a moistened roll of cloth.
Salma blinked in momentary confusion, and Tuan smiled a little lopsidedly. “There we are. Welcome back to the lands of the waking, ma’am.”
Sal was at his wife’s side in an instant. “Light, Salma dear, ‘r y’ alright?” he gasped, tenderly taking her hand in his own calloused palms. In the poor light, the worn old farmer’s face seemed to have gained several years, harrowed lines having appeared over the past mere hours.
Salma blinked again, this time at her husband, and then she managed a wan but understanding smile. “… s’alright, Sal honey … I guess I took a rath’r nasty drop back thar.”
“Y’ well near scared the livin’ daylights outta me, y’ did,” Sal sighed heavily, patting her aged hand gently. “Y’ jes’ stay right thar fer a while long’r, an’ you’ll be right back on yer feet again.”
Salma nodded weakly, but then her eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh … Eli … where … where’d he …”
The Death Knight loomed up behind the old farmer, his shoulders drooped ever so slightly. “Right here, ma’am. Ain’t gone nowhere.”
The old woman’s face brightened as she reached out with a trembling hand. Eli quickly stepped up to the couch and bent down, grasping her hand as carefully as he was able. She looked up at him, eyes glittering with tears, but she was smiling with a happiness that was near heart-rending to watch.
“You came back … you came back to us,” she whispered. “Our Eli … oh, we missed you. We missed you so much …”
Whether or not Eli tried to reply, it was impossible to tell – his head was bowed, no sound escaped him, and not the slightest movement stirred his broad-shouldered frame.
Salma’s voice petered out, and then she closed her eyes with a little sigh, her hand sinking back onto her chest.
Both men started forward, panic and dread etched upon their stances and faces, but Tuan calmly felt the exhausted old woman’s face and throat, holding the back of her hand to Salma’s mouth.
“She’s asleep,” the she-rogue announced in a low voice. She sat forward, adjusting the crumpled-up ball of wool cloth that served as a makeshift pillow. “We’ll just let her rest for now.”
Sal bowed his head with a trembling exhale of relief, and Eli straightened up again. Tuan glanced understandingly at them both. “I’ll keep watch. You two get some rest. Well, at least you, Sal,” she pointed out with a light, lopsided smile. The old farmer nodded slowly, giving the she-rogue a look of the deepest gratitude, and wandered upstairs.
Eli lingered indecisively. Checking that her cloak covered the sleeping old woman properly, Tuan turned to him.
“So?”
Eli blinked and raised his head. “… what?”
“Did it help at all? What they told you.”
The Death Knight shifted his weight awkwardly. “… I … I dunno. It seems so far-fetched, that we’d just run into all this right now, right here …” He raised a hand to his head, rubbing his neck through the hood. “S’a lot to take in.”
She smiled sadly. “I can imagine.”
He straightened up, staring into space with unseeing, glowing eyes. "But … if it’s true … then I finally have something. A framework.” He paused for thought. “All these images … all these memories … they fit, Miss Tuan. I dunno how it’s possible … but they just do. I know they do.” He clenched his hands for a split second. “I know it.”
Tuan’s smile became broader.
Eli drew a light breath – pointless as it was, given his condition. “I … I think I’m gonna need a while ta let everythin’ sink in.” He shuffled his feet again. “Mind if I head outside? Jes’ need ta gather mah thoughts … piece things together.” A weak but sincere smile peeked out from beneath the hood’s perpetual shadow.
She nodded. “You do that. I’ll stay here and keep tabs.”
He bowed his head, and without a further word, he stalked outside.
Tuan turned to her impromptu charge as a soft sight escaped Salma’s lips, and the old woman’s eyes fluttered half-open. “… he’s gone fer a walk, ain’t he?” She closed her eyes again, but her smile solidified. “He always does that when his mind’s in a tizzy.”
Tuan arched an eyebrow, dipping the small roll of linen into the bowl of water she had poured earlier, and dabbed the elderly woman’s forehead again. “Were you awake that whole time?”
A light chuckle. “… I learn’d ta rec’nize ‘is footsteps on th’ road outside this house years ago, lass. I always know when mah boy’s comin’ or goin’.” Salma opened her eyes, fully this time, and looked directly at the she-rogue. “Ya knew ‘im too once … didn’t you?”
The ornery half-smirk that occupied Tuan’s expression most of – if not all – the time was wiped away in an instant. Her hand faltered and sank.
Salma merely continued to regard her gently. “How’d you meet?”
Tuan stared off into space. “… we ran into each other.” A faint smile of bygone memories flicked across her countenance. “He was into books, I’m into books, and we hit it off.” She resumed her patient routine with the moist cloth.
It took her a few heartbeats to notice that Salma was still looking up at her, now with a decidedly meaningful glint in her aging eyes. The she-rogue sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.
“We were friends. Nothing more. And that’s what we are, and will always be.” She dipped the cloth again and wrung out the excess water.
“Really, now?”
Tuan closed her eyes, her mouth twitching somewhere halfway between a smirk and a frown. “Positive.”
Minutely mollified, Salma let her head drop back down onto the pillow, letting the she-rogue dab her forehead once more with the soothing water.
“I have to admit,” Tuan started up off-handedly, “whenever he’d go into preacher mode, he’d become a completely different person.” Her hand stiffened at a quiet chuckle from the elderly woman. “What.”
“Oh, lass,” Salma sighed motherly, “this ol’ woman’s been aroun’ long enough ta know there ain’t a girl on this green earth tha’ won’ fall headlong into a kind young man’s arms at least once ‘n ‘er life. S’one of those things the Light sees to.” She smiled warmly.
If she had expected the she-rogue to cave, she was sorely mistaken. Tuan’s pose neither stiffened nor softened; her hand simply stopped moving, and then smoothly returned to the she-rogue’s lap. A strange, distant look settled onto Tuan’s chiselled complexion, and she stared off into space in the same manner one might gaze into a void at the edge of eternity.
At length, she turned back to the old woman, who had by then grown noticeably curious. Tuan merely smiled gently: a perfectly neutral, if faintly resigned smile, but her eyes carried an almost otherworldly sadness that Salma had never seen before in her life.
“In that case, Madam Salma,” the she-rogue finally spoke in a level but soft voice, “I am what you would call an eternally lost soul.”
Salma blinked in confusion, but before she could open her mouth, Sal came tiptoeing down the stairs again. He smiled a little apologetically.
“Couldn’t sleep fer the life o’ me,” he explained in a low voice. Then he noticed that his wife was awake and came over to her, placing a tender hand on her cheek. “How’re ya feelin’, love?”
She smiled back. “I think I can make it back t’ our bed now, Sal dearest.” She gave him a wily look with glittering eyes. “Ya ne’er could fall asleep without me by yer side, could you?”
The aging man smiled back, his cheeks colouring slightly. Tuan stood smoothly, offering her arm as Salma slowly righted herself, sitting up on the creaky old couch with a sigh. The old woman shook her head tiredly.
“Goodness gracious … what a day this’s been.” She looked up at Tuan with a grateful smile. “Thank ye so much fer ev’rythin’.”
Tuan returned the smile. “All in a day’s work.”
“You’ll keep an eye on our Eli fer us, won’t ya?”
“Don’t even need to ask.”
Salma bowed her head, nodding with a reassured smile. Taking her husband’s arm, she stood a little shakily, and with one final exchange of night’s greetings, the couple made their way to the staircase.
At its foot, Salma caught herself and turned around. “Oh, bless me … I complet’ly forgot ‘bout yer sleepin’ arrangements …”
Tuan raised a hand. “I’ve lived as a self-sponsored transient for nine years, ma’am. I’ll manage.”
Salma smiled in relief. “If ya still want ta stretch yer back prop’r’ly, there should be a spare bed in th’ side room down heres. I’m sure you’ll find it on yer own.” Tuan nodded, and waved the couple off.
When Eli returned a while later, he found the she-rogue leaned back on the couch, head resting lightly against her knuckles and eyes far away. “… the Saldeans’ tucker’d out, then?” he ventured in a low voice.
She started slightly, looking up and nodding. “Mhm. Dunno how adamant you are about sleeping …”
He let show a lopsided smirk. “I don’ exactly need it anymore, but I can still use the rest.” He stretched discreetly, his spine popping.
She smirked back. “There’s a spare bed on this floor. You can take it.”
“What ‘bout you?”
She patted the couch as a way of answer. “I’ll just crash right here. Light knows I’ve slept in weirder places.” She shot a rapscallious grin at her companion.
He stepped back, raising his palms outward. “I’m not ev’n goin’ ta try t’ imagine.”
~||~
The following morning was only minutely eventful in comparison to the earth-shaking revelations from the night before. With a couple pairs of extra hands helping out, breakfast was up and going faster than usual, and the children were all tagging along behind the two visiting adventurers, asking questions left and right like children were wont to do. Tuan finally decided to start entertaining the kids with (flamboyantly embellished) tales of her exploits that took her around the world a hundred times and back, while Eli helped setting up the table for the hungry little mouths that were currently closed (or opened) in distracted awe.
Sal glanced over his shoulder at Tuan while setting out a few bowls with a slight grin, then turned his attention to the pensive death knight setting plates on the other side of the table, his grin turning into a concerned and fatherly smile. “Can’t believe yer headin’ out so soon, Eli. We’ve got a lot t’ catch up on,” the old man finally ventured.
The Death Knight smiled faintly from beneath his hood in return, but he answered truthfully. “And I’d love t’ stay, but … there’s still that unfinished business we got ourselves mixed up in here.”
The old farmer nodded in understanding. “Th’ Furlbrows.”
“Yup.” Eli set down the last plate. “The person who set them up t’ get killed’s still out thar, runnin’ from their due justice.” There was no mistaking the determination in his deathless voice. “They won’t be runnin’ fer long.”
“Even as a Death Knight, you haven’t changed one bit, Eli,” Sal grinned, almost sadly. “I wish I had some clue fer ya t’ use, but …” The old farmer shook his head, semi-defeated.
“S’alright, Pa.” Eli felt immensely awkward addressing the old farmer with such a familial title … but, ultimately, it felt right. “Somethin’ll turn up. Always does.”
“Come t’ think of it, dear …” Salma’s voice floated out from the kitchen. She stood at the threshold, wiping her hands on a clean linen cloth. “I think there’s someone we know that might know a thing’r’two ‘bout wha’ happen’d t’ the Furlbrows.”
Eli respectfully turned toward Salma’s voice. “Who might tha’ be, Ma?” he asked, curious and interested.
“Yer sister … Hope,” Salma answered with a smile. It took a moment for the old housewife to notice that Eli was drawing a blank. “Oh dear. You don’t remember her, either?”
The Death Knight mutely shook his head.
“Well …” Salma deftly made her way to the table and sat down. The children had, for one reason or another, left the room, as had Tuan. “Her story’s a lot like yers, Eli.”
Eli sat down as well, and folded his arms on the table, listening intently.
“She showed up about four’r five years ago, standin’ on our doorstep, an’ a right an’ holy mess she was,” the elderly woman continued. “Must’ve been thirteen or fourteen ‘round that time, an’ she didn’t have a clue who she was or how she found her way t’ us.” She looked up at Sal meaningfully, and then turned her attention back to Eli. “We asked anybody who still had a homestead ‘round these parts if they rec’nized th’ poor dear, but no one did … so we took her in as one of our own, an’ we took t’ callin’ her Hope.” Salma smiled that motherly smile. “Light knows that hope is what Westfall needs, and as time went on, she started to live up t’ her name.”
“Hope looked up t’ ya highly when ya were alive, Eli,” Sal chimed in. The old farmer chuckled. “She’d always take off running toward th’ road whenever she heard horses comin’ our way, hopin’ to be th’ first ta greet ya when your circuit brought y’ back here.” There was a shared look of sadness as Sal trailed off into his memories again. “When we heard y’ died, it was Hope who kept us together. She kept us alive, an’ she stepped up ta fill the void yer death had left behind.”
Eli felt a brief pang from one of his fragmented memories – the sound of the laughing girl in the endless fields of gold, coming toward him. He discreetly shook himself back to the present.
“She’s out by Sentinel Hill these days, helpin’ out with the poor folk goin’ down that a-ways, and she’s grown into a fine young lady in the time you were away, Eli,” Salma spoke up again. She paused briefly. “Come to think of it, her eighteenth birthday’s in a couple days.” The old housewife beamed. “Oh, if only I could see her face once she learns tha’ her big adopt’d brother’s come back after all this time! It’d make her day as much as it did ours …” She put a hand on Eli’s. “Tell you what, we’ve got plenty o’ stew leftov’r from all the hard work you an’ yer friend did fer us yest’rday. Why don’t I send y’ both t’ Sentinel with some of tha’ stew, an’ you can help her out some. Maybe she’s heard somethin’ from the locals down that way ‘bout what happen’d to th’ Furlbrows.”
Eli smiled kindly and placed his other hand on top of Salma’s. “It’s a start, an’ thank you …” With a warm smile, the Death Knight stood to leave … and was very nearly bowled over by a miniature tsunami of orphans coming in the door.
“‘Ey thar! Steady now, ev’ryone in yer seats! Calm down, breakfast’s almost ready!” Salma immediately shifted into high gear housewife mode, herding the excited children into the kitchen proper and placing them along the neatly set table. Eli couldn’t help but chuckle quietly to himself, and turned to the doorway. As was to be expected, Tuan was stood in it, leaned against the doorpost with her arms crossed.
The she-rogue shot her companion a lopsided smile and rolled her eyes. “I got tired of giving them informational lectures about how to dismantle Harvest Watchers.” Her smile turned into her customary sly grin. “I guess I just kinda let on about breakfast being prepared.” Eli shook his head in amused defeat.
Tuan suddenly perked up, holding up a finger with glittering eyes, and then rummaged around in her backpack. Within the next heartbeat, she produced an odd-looking sort of contraption – what would at first glance have been described as akin to a mechanical heart, humming ever so quietly in her hand.
“Just remembered,” she chirped. “I found this in one of them disabled golems out in the field. Thought I’d show you.”
Eli arched an eyebrow meaningfully. “I’d look if I could, Miss Tuan.”
She smirked back. “Hardy har.”
Interestingly, it was Sal who displayed the most noticeable reaction to the strange item. His eyes widened, and he hustled over to the two adventurers to stare in wonder. “… is … is that whut I think it is?” he gasped, almost awestruck.
Tuan raised her eyebrows, discreetly holding up the peculiar gizmo. Sal leaned in, careful not to touch it. “I’ve ‘eard stories ‘bout these,” he mumbled, seemingly lost in another world. “S’called a ‘Heart of the Watcher’ – anyone who’d get a hold o’ one would be able t’ power up a dead Watcher an’ ev’n control it.”
Tuan looked at him and nodded lightly. “It’s pretty close to the truth, actually. This is one of their internal power cores.” She juggled it between her hands briefly, and the old farmer pulled back instinctively. “Usually these things are hard-wired to blow up with the rest of the machinery whenever a Watcher’s disabled—” She shot a lopsided smile at the momentarily terrified old man. “… it’s an engineer thing. Most of the Defias’ old leftover junk is goblin-built – and goblins are just as jealous about their designs as any.” She plonked the ‘heart’ back into her satchel. “And considering what you’ve just told me, I just might give this little gem a spin.” She gave Sal a decidedly roguish grin.
The aged farmer checked himself, smiling a little awkwardly in return. “‘Course, I’m really in no shape ta try anythin’ like that mahself.” He backed off, back towards the now quite noisy breakfast table, his palms raised. “Y’ have yer fun with ‘em mechanical monsters, girl. Seems ta be yer ‘thing’, as it were.”
Tuan beamed a disarmingly brilliant smile back at the old man, throwing a sloppy salute before she turned on her heel and hustled downstairs. Eli walked over to Salma, accepting the leftover stew in a worn-out crockery pot wrapped in linen and an old sling net, waved the old couple goodbye with a light smile, and followed in the she-rogue’s tracks – albeit a tad slower.
Once outside, the pair of travellers went about checking their respective steeds. Neither Dionysus nor Tuan’s mare seemed to have fallen ill from the impromptu night spent outside; if anything, the animals were almost excited to get back onto the road.
“So what was that about that Hope girl now?” Tuan asked off-handedly, glancing at Eli while she tightened a loose strap.
“Y’ have a bad habit of eavesdroppin’, Miss Tuan.” The Death Knight straightened out the reins that had gotten tangled while tethered to the tree’s branches.
“It’s in my job description, silly.”
Eli calmly went about his business, carefully tying the stew pot to Dionysus’ saddle. “… ‘parently an adopt’d sister I knew once. Kinda r’memb’r her in a way.” He turned his head slightly in the she-rogue’s direction. “Why you askin’?”
Tuan shook her head absent-mindedly. “… nothing in particular. Well, besides the part when the Saldeans first found her.”
Eli arched an eyebrow. “What’s with that?”
She looked back at him, a brief flash of something dark flicking through her eyes. “Eli, anything that rhymes with ‘five years ago’ around these parts is something to take note of. Just saying.”
She swung herself onto her mare and stood up in the stirrups, looking around with sharp eyes, and pointed southwestward across the abandoned fields. “Over there. Plenty of runaway electricity.” She glanced at the Death Knight as he adjusted himself in his saddle, takeaway food and all. “I’ll just scoot ahead and check it out.”
Eli rolled his eyes and sighed, but he nevertheless smiled weakly. “I can scarcely imagine anythin’ that could stop you right now, Miss Tuan.” He was rewarded with a rakish snicker and the thunder of hooves galloping off. He tapped Dionysus into a slow trot, following in the direction of the other horse’s footfalls.
When he caught up with her, she was already clambering all over one of the disabled monstrosities, happily ignoring the leaping arcs of synthesized lightning. “This is unbelievable. These things have probably been around for five farkin’ years, and they’re still functional!” She jumped back down like a cat, scurrying over to her mare and producing the ‘heart’. “Only one way to confirm it.” Her voice carried an unmistakable edge of giddiness paired with an almost feral expectation.
With his limited sight, Eli could only hazard a wild guess at what the she-rogue was doing, but he heard her voice floating back to him as he discreetly shortened his Deathcharger’s reins just in case the jittery steed decided to throw a fit. “… alright, so I guess I just drop it in here …” There was a deafening grind of metal as a gearbox the size of a gyrocopter’s engine block sputtered to life, and Dionysus duly made a stutter-step jump backwards. Eli grabbed hold of the stew pot, biting back a rather foul invective. He heard a triumphant whoop from the she-rogue followed by a loud rattle and clank, as if a hatch was hastily opened and closed.
“… mmmkay, so these steer the arms, and the pedals … oh, gods.” Tuan’s voice was euphoric. “I’ve wanted to drive one of these forever.”
“Y’alright thar, Miss Tuan?” Eli ventured with a degree of concern.
“Alright? Cloud nine dead ahead! Well, fine, these controls are seriously clunky, but this is just like joyriding a Venture Company Shredder—” A shriek of gears. “—whoah! Okay, almost.” There was a succession of thunderous footsteps as the hijacked Watcher tromped around in a reasonably controlled circle. “Got it! Now what to use this sucker on …”
Eli turned his head. “… if I’m not mistaken, Miss Tuan …”
“Heh. Yeah.” The she-rogue’s voice was dripping with manic glee. “Looks like the old Molsen stead’s still overrun with those clankytanks.” There was a roar of a Watcher engine being revved. “Let’s give ‘em a very overdue what-for.”
Eli followed along on a decidedly unhappy Dionysus as a now mechanically-endowed Tuan stomped the Watcher across the stretch to the Molsen farm – which, just like the Saldeans’ lot, had long since been left at the mercy of the Defias’ unearthly robotic constructs. However, these Harvest Watchers were noticeably larger and burlier, and not a few of them crackled and hummed with barely contained robotic fury. These had once been the top echelon of the golem army manufactured through the Brotherhood’s underground network of suppliers and assembly lines; now they simply kept going on their most basic programming – they had been made to be harvest watchers, and harvest watchers they remained, even though the only thing left to “watch” now was thoroughly dried-out farmsteads that hadn’t felt a plough or a hoe for more than half a decade.
Eli stopped at a reasonably safe distance, squinting to make out the lumbering shadows in the perpetual fields of gray that constituted his limited vision. He had just enough time to catch sight of Tuan’s Watcher out of the corner of his eye, the construct picking up speed as the incorrigible she-rogue abused the controls to effect a turbo-boost of sorts, and then she careened squarely into the throng of ogre-bellied mechanical terrors.
He quickly gave up trying to keep track of her movements and simply resorted to gauging the super-sized scuffle by the grinding shrieks and ear-shattering howls of metal being torn apart, interjected by the she-rogue’s occasional whooping. It swiftly became more than a little obvious that she was enjoying her power upgrade immensely.
A gentle huff next to him informed him that Tuan’s riding mare had come trotting up to Dionysus and was now grazing idly, clearly jaded to her mistress’ shenanigans. Eli allowed himself a somewhat tired sigh.
“Y’ don’ think she’ll be done with this anytime soon, do ya?” he asked no-one in particular. The mare let out a snort and a nicker, as if to say, ‘Oh, don’t even dream of it. She’ll keep at it until that thing blows up in her face.’ Dionysus shifted his weight uncomfortably, but stayed obediently in place.
About a minute later, half of the offending constructs lay in smoking heaps, while the rest were gathered in a furiously growling gaggle chasing Tuan’s Watcher around in circles and figures-of-eight, essentially playing a twisted variety of Follow The Leader. True to her form, the ornery woman had one last trick up her sleeve – suddenly slamming the top hatch open and pulling the hijacked golem to a skidding stop, she bounded across the grotesquely hat-adorned heads of the attacking Watchers even as they mobbed the now doomed interloper trapped in their midst. She leapt from the outermost Watcher in a graceful arc, landed in a roll and came sprinting back towards Eli’s position at full tilt.
She had just cleared the rickety farmstead fence with a lightning-quick vault when the hijacked Watcher went skyhigh, taking the entire remaining group of adversaries with it. It was only by the grace of Eli’s iron grip on Dionysus’ reins that the Deathcharger didn’t simply turn on one hoof and take off in a panic; even Tuan’s mare was a tad agitated.
Eli urged his desperately protesting steed forward into the billowing cloud of smoke that had enveloped the entire field. He swiped at the smoke, calling out: “Miss Tuan? Miss Tuan! Y’alright?!”
He was greeted by the she-rogue’s laughter, and caught sight of her gestalt just as the smoke began to clear. She was sitting in the grass, laughing as hard as she was able, leather armour tarnished by the flying ash from the detonation. He sighed audibly, walking Dionysus up to her, a biting reprimand on his lips.
Then she suddenly jumped to her feet with a resounding whoop, punching her fist in the air. Leaning forward, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled at the top of her lungs: “That’s for trying to stomp me to a pulp a million times all those years ago, you piston-brained lugheads!!”
And with that, she spun on her heel, coming face to face with a monumentally exasperated Eli. She grinned broadly at him, running a hand through her tousled hair. “So! Enjoyed the fireworks?”
He struggled for words for the longest time, all the while perfectly aware of the stifled snickering coming from the woman in front of him. At length, he simply gave up with a heaving sigh. “… I think I’m with Pa Saldean on this’un, Miss Tuan. Yer farkin’ insane.”
This only elicited another round of uproarious laughter. She quickly gathered her wits again, though. “Don’t get me wrong, Eli,” she said to the Death Knight glaring down at her, her own lips curling in a decidedly ironic smirk. “I’ve wanted to do something like this for five years. Those things were an absolute nightmare back when the Defias were still around – and I’m not even kidding when I say that.” She sauntered over to her mare, holding out a hand. The horse whinnied reproachfully and shook its head, but nevertheless met the she-rogue with a resigned huff. Tuan’s face softened noticeably, and she wrapped a gentle arm around the mare’s neck, ruffling its mane soothingly.
“Did I spook ya? Sorry ‘bout that, girl.” Adjusting the harness, she promptly swung herself into the saddle, running a hand through her hair again before shooting Eli one more infuriatingly cheery smile. “Next stop – Sentinel Hill.”
And with that, she tapped her mare into a light trot and made her way back to the road.
Eli groaned and raised unseeing eyes heavenward. Left with few other options, he simply followed his insufferable companion’s lead.
((co-written by TheKittyLizard and Tuan Taureo))
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