As the darkness swallowed Trynda whole, she wasn’t afraid. Having lived in the bustling city of Ironforge, she became accustom to the semi-darkness of the mountain. The moon was large and hanging low in the sky, a few stars dotted the night surrounding the moon. While Stormwind was much safer then Forlorn cavern, which Trynda travelled through many a time, you still couldn’t be too careful. She summoned her imp, which followed her invisibly, for added protection.
With a rustle of leaves, the tinkling of plate armour, and the soft hooting of an owl, Trynda realized she was almost there. A chill ran up her spine, she wasn’t dealing with the people she was used to. These people were the dregs of society, with their demons. Trynda shook her head, she was the dreg of society now. She wiped a tear from her eye, unable to not think about how she ended up stalking the night in Stormwind when a few short months ago she lived with her family in Gnomeregan.
“So glad you made it,” the man from this morning said, “I see you gave the Stormwind guard the slip.”
“Not without getting a little wet first,” Trynda said trying to sound battle-worn but she just sounded exasperated. The man smirked at her choice of words, “No . . . I . . . .” Trynda sighed. The man barked a laugh.
“Come inside then,” The man said as he lead her to the door of The Slaughtered Lamb. The moved passed the bar and a few tables to a door in the back, “We meet in a more fitting setting for us Warlocks. He opened the door and she followed him down a narrow, spiral, staircase. Trynda was led to a large room with a brazier set in the middle, casting shadowy illusions along the faces of all that stood there.
“Name,” commanded an icy voice. It came from a woman standing in the shadows, only her face was visible from the light of the fire.
“Trynda, Trynda Felvolt,” Trynda replied. The first name was hers but the last name was something she had picked out for herself, while dealing with warlocks and dangerous people it was best that she kept her true identity to herself. Not for what she once was, just something to keep to herself while everything else was taken from her.
“Well Trynda, Trynda Felvolt, that life of the party is Ursula Deline,” the man who had led her to this cellar pointed out for her, “This dashing gnome is Spackle Thornberry, that beauty is named Demisette Cloyce, and the devilishly handsome man behind you is named, Sandahl,” he said motioning to himself.
“Nice to meet you all, Trynda said politely.
“You got us all up at midnight for this, this child?” Ursula snapped.
“My contacts in Ironforge have told me that this ‘child’ has been through more in her life, however short, then you have, Ursula,” Sandahl said.
“But can she be trusted?”
“She passed the test with flying colours! Unlike someone who had to get their daddy to buy them out of the stockade,” He retorted with a smirk. Ursula sank back into the shadows.
“So tell us Trynda what exactly happened in Gnomeregan.”
“I was eating dinner with my family, when I started feeling weak.”
“Curse of weakness might have been cast upon her,” Demisette said, “Go on.”
“We got into a disagreement, when I blacked out.”
“That was one damn powerful curse of weakness,” Ursula commented.
“When I came too, there was a note on my plate, saying “Motivational, isn’t it?” while my mother, father, and little brother were dead. Sirens were going off and I had to leave them and evacuate the city.”
“I’ve heard of this story, my gnomish contacts told me you were attacked in Ironforge and the robber tried to grab that paper and it nearly burned his hands off,” chipped in Spackle.
“So I went and trained under a warlock trainer in Coldridge Valley, summoned my imp and he checked the letter out telling me it was a member of the Twilights hammer cult who wrote it.”
“And now you came here hoping we could narrow it down?” Sandahl asked.
“Well actually . . .,” Trynda trailed off.
“Have you ever summoned a voidwalker?” Sandahl smiled.
* * *
“Darkshore?” Trynda asked as Sandahl lead her to the door of the Slaughtered Lamb.
“You heard the Voidwalker, he said that Darkshore is a good place to start looking for whoever it is that you want. Oh and while your there pick me up some heartswood in Ashenvale forest. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.” Sandahl said as he slammed the door in Trynda’s face. She sighed and headed toward her inn, so she could pack up and take a boat to Darkshore.
* * *
“Twilights hammer cult? Do you think she’ll find who she’s looking for? There are hundreds of members.”
“The only one who would sanction a kill like that, and is powerful enough to cast a curse like that is him. The day she comes back here after meeting him face to face is the day I light my Warlock robes on fire and become a priest of the light.”