Power Underwhelming

[Caspin Mordain]

(( I couldn't reconcile myself to change tenses back to past in order to continue in the same thread, so I'm continuing the story here in order to properly segue from Caspin's dream/death state back to reality. Pardon the confusion. ))

"Is THIS what you call a pub?" I asked out loud, cursing under my breath at the absolute absurdity of the situation.

I mean, REALLY. Any real dwarf will attest that a pub by definition is FAR reaching beyond some middle aged munchkin doling out ale. Indeed, it's a meeting place, a social gathering, and a place you can get bloody pissed without having to deal with "holier-than-thou's", "ne'er-do-wells", and the occassional "blast-it-husband-I-told-you-no-more's".

Ok, I lied about the last one. A woman scorned and all that.

Back to the point, though. There I was, standing in this TRAVESTY of a watering hole, wondering why these idiots couldn't be bothered to serve a decent scotch on a Wednesday.

"'TIS A HOLY DAY, M'LORD," I mocked, parroting the simpleton behind the bar. "I'm sure the patron saint of 'Ruining Wednesday Afternoon Drinking' will be MORE than pleased if I get pissed in his righteous name, thank you. One glass of Johnny Vancleef Blue isn't going to kill anyone save my liver."

The bartender shrugged and offered a sheepish smile and I turned away in disgust. The four ladies ( whoever decided human FEMALES could frequent these establishments ought to be garroted, by the way ) across the table had stopped their card game to give me 'the look'.

You know, because 'the look' is INFINITELY worse than being possessed by a legion of demons one of your students bestows upon you.

Nevertheless, I was intimidated and embarassed, and merely tipped my head in apology and quietly departed the tavern into the street.

"So much for a drink."

As I crossed the Trade Square in Stormwind, I could faintly hear the Church's bells ringing in accordance with the conclusion of Wednesday prayer services. I thought it'd be a smashingly good idea to go up there and scare the fear of..well, SOMETHING.

Upon entering the Cathedral District, the seemingly endless tide of children came pouring out of the Church into the street. Undoubtedly concluding their prayers for the benefit of their pet rabbits and other assorted nonsense that the Light can't be bothered with. Oh, to be ignorant again, I thought.

As I made my way up the steps, the children seemed to deviate to the sides - almost afraid of my very presence. This was new, normally children felt at home and comfortable near me, and were quite friendly. Now, none of them would even make eye contact.

Still, I was too busy to really ponder the subject at the time, and I continued into the foyer. Two armored guards approached and raised their halberds to block my passage into the Hall.

"Relinquish your weapons and you may pass," one of the Guards said from underneath his visored helm.

"How about you inform someone that Cerv- no, tell them Caspin Mordain wishes to speak to them and will not relinquish his weapons."

Neither guard moved.

"..Was I not clear? Do I need to speak old tongue for you to understand, boy?" I said again, this time my hands resting on the hilts of my maces.

The guards did not hesitate. The wooden staff end of the halberd moved to my jaw, and a year ago, I'd have found myself on my back tasting blood. Instead, I found my right hand clenched in a fist around the staff, and the guard staring, amazed.

"Now, that wasn't necessary.." I muttered, still amazed at the reflexes I had somehow gained. "Just tell your master that He has returned."

The other guard quickly balked at attempting an assault and scampered off to find someone in charge. A wise decision.

I smiled and looked towards the guard, trying to find his eyes inside the slit of his visor.

"This House of Sacriledge is about to get a wake up call."

[Caspin Mordain]

Brother Sarno consumed his entire flask, but to no avail. I wasn't about to go anywhere anytime soon.

"Is this some sort of sick joke?", the brother inquired, gazing into his empty flask with an almost dejected stare.

I shrugged. "Just can't keep a good man down, I suppose."

"There was a service - Samin conducted the ceremony himself!"

The thought of there having been a memorial service for my death was only slightly chilling. The fact that my room had probably already been cleared out at the Hall was 'infinitely' more disappointing. I cursed having told the damned dwarf where my tobacco stash was 'in case I died'. Bloody fool I was to actually go and croak.

"I wish I could explain how I survived, but I cannot, brother. I wish to know if my medallion still resides here, and if the Archbishop is available for discussion."

The brother shook his head severely. "Your amulet never arrived here - it was widely believed to have been consumed by the Light in order to properly purge the demon taint. Have you been checked by a proper Inquisitor?"

I narrowed my eyes at the brother and watched him take two cautious steps back. "I am 'fine', Sarno, and no Inquisitor is getting within ten leagues of me without my knowing of it beforehand. Do we have an understanding?"

The drunken fool nodded eagerly. The bloody fool had allowed me to go on a wild goose chase well over a year ago now, ending ultimately in my inability to assist my leader and fail as a friend to Samin in his time of need. Not to mention I'd gotten myself killed. Still, he had meant well, and couldn't be entirely faulted. I had made many of my own decisions and had to reconcile them myself.

"I can't blame you, James. You did what you could."

The wizened old man relaxed and put his face in his hands, sighing audibly. "I could have done so much more, Cerven - really, I could have."

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. My time with the Hand, with the Church, with the Light - it's over."

His head snapped back up, locking eyes for the first time since I had entered the room. "You can't be serious - you NEED the Chur-"

"No, Sarno - the Church needs me. The Light abandoned me in those final moments with Samin, and had it not been for that medallion, we'd have both been lost. My quest to resurface that chapter of my life is over and done with. I've made my peace with my past, once and for all. I am now and forever will be who I am 'right now'. My true friends deserve that much."

"The Church is the only friend you need, Cerven -"

I shook my head and stood.

"Men have ruined what the Light used to bring. Hope, hope that one day, the darkness in our hearts can finally be turned away, that our children will live in a world without fear or darkness; a place where we could raise our families without wondering if they're gonna be butchered while we're off makin' a living. We yearn for yesterday, for what was or what might have been. But as we are yearning, the present is becoming the past, so the past is nothing but our yearning for second chances. The Light not only fails to deliver, it fails in the method of delivery. The only real solution is a true friends, a stern will and a good set of maces."

The Brother started to reply, but Caspin raised his hand to silence him.

"It doesn't matter. We'll never see eye to eye on this."

As he strode towards the door, James placed his hand on myshoulder. "What would you have me tell the Archbishop?"

turned, a smirk crossing his face.

"Honestly?"

Sarno nodded.

"Tell him that I didn't forget, and that if he wants to live out the rest of his days in peace that he'd best avoid me at all costs."

With that, I pulled my leather hat from my pack and stepped out into the fresh fall downpour that had just started. The Hall isn't too far away, and I thought it was high time to pay my old home a visit.

[Fechak]

((I'm chomping at the bit man))

[Caspin Mordain]

My pocketwatch still worked, remarkably enough. I checked it and saw it to be half past two when I crested the hill just outside of Stormwind, making my way down to the Hall. I approached carefully, unsure of what I'd be finding there.

Slipping into the shadows, I could just barely glimpse the front gate, and where I had sat for months on end with my pipe in the early mornings. Menshk's tent was missing, but that was hardly uncommon. I'd personally seen the bear of a man destroy five or six when he dreamt of gnomish clowns.

Johnson was watering some sort of plant, right where I had used to sit. I was too far away to see what it really was, but it hardly mattered. Why on earth the bloody butler would care I was gone, anybody could guess. More often than not, I gave that old man a headache.

The stone wall was still as easy as ever to climb, even for my aging limbs. I scaled it quickly to the third floor and, upon finding that my window was still open. Remarkable. I swept quietly inside and looked around.

I paused and looked around the room, amazed. I had honestly expected to find the room occupied by a new, more deserving member.

"It's..it's just as I left it?" I muttered. Indeed, even down to the tobacco pouch, dry and full. Now THIS I knew I had not left. A small, folded piece of paper lay near by, which I scooped up. Before I could unfold it though, I heard footsteps and immediately leapt out of the window, clutching onto the frame.

Johnson entered into the room, evidently thinking he'd heard something. I couldn't honestly say why I didn't just make myself known, but it didn't feel right yet. I needed to figure out what had happened - Johnson might not even be on our side anymore. I needed to find someone who I had been in the trenches with, and find out what was really going on.

I slipped back down onto the grass and started heading towards the lumbercamp. I'd need to procure a new horse if I was going to get anything done today. As I moved through the row of whores strutting their money makers in Goldshire, I unfolded the piece of paper while batting away a particularly ugly one with my free hand.

Before I'd read one line, I heard a shout go up. "Thief! Heeeeelp!"

A small gnome sprinted through the crowd, wearing a mask two sizes too big for his face. He brushed past me, snatching the note from my hand and peeling down the street.

Just as I was about to give chase, I found my feet encased in ice, and a second Gnome appeared no less than four feet ahead of me, following after his friend. He too, wore an oversized navy hood that looked awfully familiar.

I cracked a vanishing powder and sprinted in pursuit, well ahead of any guards.

"Hurry Ern, he's gaining on us!" the thief squealed, urging his magical counterpart on as he surged into the river. His mage friend merely skated across on a block of ice, but not before catching a deft behind-the-head closeline from yours truly. The mage went flying, faceplanting on the Darkshire side of the river.

I turned, brandishing both maces and pressing my heel into the back of the gnome's head, still eating dirt. "I advise you to stop before I execute your comrade in arms, Gnome."

If I had to guess, the rogue gnome pissed himself right there, not out of fear for his friend, but out of fear for what he saw. Considering the poor soul was already soaking wet though, it was impossible to tell. What WAS obvious was the absolute fear in his two beady little eyes.

"IT IS BEING CASPIN'S SPIRIT OF VENGEANCE! WE ARE BEING DOOMED, ERNIE! WE. ARE. BEING. DOOOOOMED!"

And with that, Mandius threw off his hood and prostrated himself before me, begging for a quick, painless death. Ernie could be heard mumbling something about the bread of death, but was mostly muffled by the soft earth he was still unhappily consuming. After staring at the two gnomes for several quiet seconds, I muttered a silent obscenity and sat down on the ground, releasing my foot off of the bread-inclined gnome.

Mandius was unconvinced. "He is..he is not smiting?"

Ernie was still extracting a weed from his nose when he finally spoke. "P-p-perhaps some brea-"

I gave Ernie such a convincing stare that even he silenced himself. I then returned my stare to Mandius, and then stared up at the sky.

"Is this your idea of a joke? Can't we just call it freaking EVEN by now!?"

[Celera]

Ooo, the whole crew is back!

Nice writing, Caspin, and good to have you back!

[Nedward]

((keep it coming bud. a logistical question (mere curiousity, really. I don't need all stories to have continuity): the old halls either partially or totally burned down - depending on which story you read. i've always been a fan of the partially burned down version. in any event, with the defenders disbanded, what's going on at the manse? I always thought johnson had some connections and some signicant resources squirreled away. could he have commissioned a reconstruction? and did he inherit the property? some interesting ideas there. lead on!))

[Deyla]

((I believe that Johnson is carrying on some kind of illicit activity that involves too much hair shellac and wandering the halls wide awake in the middle of the night, seeking out erring servants. In fact, now that I think about it, does anyone ELSE find it odd that the man never seems to sleep??))

[Caspin Mordain]

(( Caspin's not aware of that - yet.

Also, to clarify on the house issue - I actually discussed this with Fechak prior to posting and I've gotten some ideas on where I'm going with Johnson. As Deyla pointed out - the man's really freaking creepy, and if there are no objections, I have a few plans for him. I'm aware of the Halls being burned down and whatnot. Keep in mind, Caspin approached during a rainstorm and from only one side of the estate with a stone wall which was obviously not consumed by flames. His room remained safe from the gutting, or so it appeared. ))

[Caspin Mordain]

I probably spent upwards of two hours, speaking with the two gnomes and getting the gist of their story. Between the incessant squealing, hand gesturing and Ernie's bread comments, I gathered that the House had burned down and most of the Defenders had since gone their separate ways. When I inquired of Keldamyr's resting place, neither of the Gnomes knew. I sent them on their way, requesting that they steal from the likes of Darkshire rather than Goldshire, if only to attract less attention. The Night Watch has better things to do than chase petty thieves.

Pushing myself to my feet, I made my way back across the river and down towards the logging camp. The smell of horse manure and sawdust hung in the air like a fog, and I shook my head to clear it as I approached the young man leaning on the fencepost, watching his stallions.

"Fine horses you have there, sir." I said, reaching into my back pocket to check my financial situation. As usual, I was more than ready for the transaction.

"So there I was, standing just by the watchtower, and I sees him."

I paused, quirked an eyebrow at the man, and leaned against the post to try to catch his eye. "The horses, how much?"

"And there he was. Probably ten - no TWENTY feet tall! Snarling, wielding two scimitars, he was!"

I sighed and nodded. "Yeah, thats great. I want to buy the black one. Will one hundred gold suffice?"

"And he bellowed at me," and the man turned and faced me for the first time, his eyes as wide as saucers and as innocent as the day he'd been born. The only fight this boy had ever gotten into was with a stern jar of pickles.

"I AM HOGGER, ROARRRRR!"

After wiping the spittle from my face, I looked at the young man and sighed. After finally realizing he was facing someone who had actually SEEN combat, and wasn't talking to whoever had walked away in disgust prior to my arrival, he composed himself.

"Oh, PARDON ME, adventurer. I was just retelling my fantastic tale of slaying the mighty Hog-"

I went slack jaw, feigning amazement.

"Y-y-you killed Hogger?!?!"

The man's chest suddenly jutted out an extra three to five inches, and his eyes glistened. "The battle of the ages, I warrant! Since the second war with the Orcs, no greater!"

"Did you suffer many blows from the beast?" I asked.

"Oh aye," he replied, now gesturing with his hands and assuming what he foolishly assumed was a battle stance. "But I stood my ground, and when we'd finished trading blows, I stood the victor?"

Suddenly my face went serious. "Did he ever hit you in the face?"

The boy's face went slack with curiousity? "Huh?"

"Well, y'know, I was just wondering - since you're a great warrior capable of such tremendous punishment..you wouldn't mind an old man giving you one lick, right?"

The boys legs wobbled, eyeballing my hard, calloused hands.

"Oh, cmon lad, I'm an old man - I'd just like to go tell the wife on the way home that I 'beat up' a legend, y'know? It's been so long since she's been proud of me."

I'd raised my voice as this back and forth had gone on, and now some of the local girls were making their way over. I'm sure one of them was one he fancied, and now his pride was in play. At times, I can be one sadistic bastard.

His eyes were looking desperately for a way out. Finally, out of a mix of desperation and pride, the boy finally squared up, legs still shaking and muttered, "G-g-g-o ahead, take you best shot, old man."

I smiled, reared back, and rammed my fist towards his jaw. His eyes closed and he flinched, and in that split second I put him into a headlock instead, raking my knuckles over his head in the most fantastic noogie since my days as a child. The crowd erupted into laughter.

After I released him, the boy was redfaced, but sheepishly smiling. I tossed him the bag of coins for the black stallion, and began to lead him out.

"Oh, what's his name?"

The boy, having already pocketed the coins and commenced his daydreaming again, suddenly snapped to. "Oh, it's Sam. His name is Sam."

I paused and sighed, shaking my head at the absolute irony of it all. At the time, it didn't feel like it would ever end.

"Might as well swing by Darkshire," I muttered to myself as I swept up into the saddle and strolled into the junction in Redridge. "Perhaps I can find someone I remember there."

[Deyla]

((It would be really cool if what you did with Johnson just happened to explain the handkerchiefs. I had a thing I was going to do with that, but the Halls burned down before I got to it and it won't work anymore. But I'd still like to see some kind of explanation for all those handkerchiefs poor Deyla had to hem.))