The White death.

January 10th, 2012 · No Comments · Short Narrative

The scroll had barely begun to absorb the ink when a young neophyte came into the room, disturbing the tranquility of her private moment with his imperious demand. Dralosa had only met the man once but she needn’t have asked him his age; his tone and demeanor spoke volumes about such things. “Lorekeeper. We want to go home to Draenor. We’ve been in this accursed Human city for two days now!” The flame of the sole candle in the room shuddered violently as he spoke.

Dralosa let out a single laugh, the sort of laugh she would emit when things had irritated her to the point of absurdity. She hoisted the still-wet parchment up into the air. “Child, do you not see what is happening around you? Does the palpable panic of a population in fear not strike your own nerves?” She obligingly paused, giving the young Draenei man time to absorb not only her words but the anger that couched them. “There is a plague here, child. And while Anchorite Dafe has not reported to me a single Draenei casualty, I shall not presume to think we are immune to it.”

“Lorekeeper! Then let us leave now, before any of us can catch it?” the young man’s voice began to falter. What started out as a bold pitch was now a struggle to hide his embarrassment. He’d known of the situation, of course, but his disdain for the Human city was impetus enough for him to request that she move the Order back to Shattrath. Surely others had felt the same way, he thought!

The Lorekeeper stood up and walked to the archway. She pinned the notice to the wood door, gently blowing on the stubborn ink and reflecting momentarily on what she’d done. After a moment she finally turned to him. “None of our soldiers are to return to Draenor without a clean bill of health from Anchorite Dafe. If I catch you, or any others for that matter, making an unauthorized visit to Draenor, then….A’dal help you, boy. Now. Get out of my sight!

The young man nodded and scampered from the room, feeling as though he were now half the size he was when he had entered it. Better the plague than her wrath, he told himself.

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