False Prophet - A Prologue
The sun had set on the sands of Vol’dun. Vulpera settlements in the distance were now clearly visible amidst darkened surroundings. Torches were warm and welcoming in the cold unforgiving terrain of the massive desert that night. Fighting the wind that blew against her mask, the Magistrix made her way to a small Vulpera encampment nearby. As the pale-haired woman approached, a small hooded figure greeted her seeming to look upward, perhaps to meet her gaze. The Sin’dorei dipped her fingers in her dimensional satchel and brought forth a purse, tossing it to the small creature. At the jingle of the coin, red fur-lined ears perked up, tiny hands caught the purse effortlessly even in the darkness. The small Vulpera revealed herself and gestured toward the makeshift rest area near her caravan where others like her were resting for the night.
The red-maned Vulpera introduced herself as Reina and even though there was a possibility that she may never see the lively creature again, she still committed the name to memory. Others nearby weren’t quite so warm toward the foreigner in their lands, eyeing her gear from head to toe as she took a seat near the fire. The Mage watched as Reina poured a bowl of soup from a pot and offered it to the Magistrix. The Blood Mage pulled her mask down to smile and thank the woman and looked down into the cup to blow the steam away and gingerly take a sip of the liquid within. Reina smiled back and nodded to the Mage, walking toward the mobile tent, leaving the Mage to herself. After a few moments, however, the Vulpera woman, who seemed to be the owner of the caravan drew the curtain of the vehicle aside. Light poured softly onto the sand outside, catching Nimuehdra’s attention.
The Mage lifted her head to look in the direction of her door and to her surprise found a company of Sethrak within, talking to each other about something. It was already difficult to understand them because of their manner of speaking but this time, it did not help that they seemed to be whispering to each other within the confines of a portable Vulpera home. Emerald eyes squinted in their direction to better see the words their mouths formed.
Nothing.
Reina drew the curtain closed soon after causing the Magistrix to give up and finish her soup, putting the cup down on a nearby table as she did so. She remained seated folding her arms across her chest and appeared as if she were resting but her glowing emerald orbs paid close attention to the drawn curtain for the Sethrak to emerge from within.
Hours passed. The Mage almost started nodding off in her chair, leaning her back against a large boulder behind her seat. She was a light sleeper lately traversing dangerous lands and so the noise would almost jolt her awake. Her silvery blue eyebrow rose at the sight.
At last!
The Sethrak trio had exited the caravan and walked away from the camp. Donning her mask once more, the Mage silently crept behind them, trying to hear their conversation. Among murmurs and hisses, the Magistrix had learned that the company were obviously Vorrik’s men and that the Vulpera were not consorting with the Faithless in any way. Relieved, she kept following them closely.
“Sssso, the exsssile wass the one hoping to sspeak with uss?” said one of them twisting his neck back to the others. A shudder ran down the Mage’s spine at the unusual sight. The woman kept a good distance between her and the trio to avoid being detected at the expense of losing sight of them.
“Yessss. One of them hass found...a sssshard of sssome sort. Evidenceee of blood and copper inlays on it made it look of value to ...those...hemomanncerrss...turning it away wasss probably for the bessst.” Replied another. The Magistrix grew intrigued as she kept listening. She struggled to do so as they were going farther and farther away from her position.
A Zandalari exile bargaining with Vorrik’s company?
“He’sss ssspeaking withh more exilesss. But it seeems that they refussed to work with themmm asss well. The Zzzzandalari was bound for Atul Aman…” was all she heard before they disappeared into the night.
There we are...A lead.
The company seemed to have headed toward the Terrace of the Devoted so she thought to herself to look there if she so needed to eavesdrop on another conversation or to confront them.
The Magistrix brought comms to her lips to speak into it but the connection there was unstable for the moment. She first tried to comm the Div and relayed as much as she could before the signal died. Another attempt was made to speak with Kirilovos as soon as possible, repeating what she had experienced and heard from the night so far to him in hope that he had heard her over the comm.
Then, her thoughts went to someone she had offered help to in recent times. Knowing that her daughter’s health was poor, the Mage had traveled this far to try and remedy the ailing girl back to her lively self. She paused for a moment and thought back to the last time they spoke at Van’Analesh Manor and the injury that followed. Her eyes closed at the recollection of images within her mind. The thoughts, the whispers, the convulsions the Captain had suffered….then nothing. Word had traveled to the Mage then that her daughter tried to force the Shadow out of herself by going on a pilgrimage to the Sunwell, a place the Magistrix herself had not visited since coming in contact with the Heart. Of course, the Mage felt guilt but there was no time to think about it now. Nimuehdra brought the comm to her lips and tried to contact the Cove.
(This was a quick prologue to the new story that would follow soon! BIG thank you to my friend, Ilyea for helping me out and being super patient about its development! She titled the story too! ^^)
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