Blood Moon Ch. 02

As a forewarning, this is a smutless chapter. The next chapter will likely not be, though.

***

Seraphita's mood was sour as she struggled to navigate through the sea of people crowding Gadgetzan's streets. When she had awakened that morning, her bed was empty with Ren nowhere to be found, his possessions, few as they were, gone with him. She had been right the first time: he was a savage, a pig, a philanderer, and she fumed as she marched through the capital city, fists clenched in anger.

The bustling port city seemed to have tripled in size since she had last visited and she was beginning to feel like a rat in a maze, scurrying from one dirt road to the next without any sense of direction. Mud brick houses dotted the streets, dull and plain on the outside but vibrant in color on the inside. She was used to this, but in her absence new types of homes had been erected; these ones were made of sturdier stone and metal and topped with domed roofs that billowed with smoke blowing like big grey clouds out of chimneys. From open windows people conversed with one another, yelling, arguing and even cat-calling her on more than one occasion. Resisting the urge to throw a mostly-harmless spell at one of them, she readjusted her corset in a futile attempt to cover more of her cleavage and then moved on in search of an inn to spend the night at.

Lost in an unfamiliar town and not wanting to spend the duration of her trip at anywhere overly shady, she decided--after much desultory wandering--to enlist the aid of the locals. Asking around, she soon discovered that they were not of much help at all: the first person she asked, a sandy-skinned troll woman with child in tow, treated her like some sort of demon, extending her arm out towards her as if to keep her at bay and quickly fleeing with her wide eyed child. The next person she met, an unshaven human man with sun tanned skin like old wrinkled parchment, just stared at her and offered her a dead beetle. Following that was a goblin who offered to help--provided she pay him--as well as a tauren with broken horns who offered to pay for her lodging so long as he got to share the night with her.

Stomping off in a huff of frustration and anger, Seraphita sat down on a sand-dusted bench, her temper cooling as she surveyed her surroundings. There was a crowd gathered not far from her. In the center of it was a little goblin woman, dancing and putting on a show for the mass of gawking onlookers, earning her pittance as they dropped coins into a bucket beside her. She could barely see the green woman, and as she watched, her mind unfocused and wandering, an idea struck her. Though Seraphita herself was a noblewoman--albeit a now disgraced noblewoman--she had never had that imperious manner to her, that haughtiness the other nobility had which seemed to always allow them to get their way. Perhaps it was time to change that.

Standing up and dusting off her skirt, Seraphita did her best to remember how her friends and acquaintances acted, then, closing her eyes and reopening them, she donned what she hoped was a new, aristocratically snobbish persona. Clearing her throat and brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, she sauntered over to the group of men and women. Choosing her target, she decided upon a lanky blue skinned troll with knotted orange hair that seemed almost as long as hers. Setting her jaw and standing up straight with her head held high, she gave her best impression of the bossy noblewomen back home.

"You there--troll," she barked, hoping her anxiety wouldn't show.

The gangly, blue skinned man turned around, smelling like a sack of onions and looking none too pleased at having his show interrupted.

"Whaddya want elfie?" he grumbled. "I'm busy."

"Watch your tone with me, troll. I am Seraphita Silverbreeze, Duchess of Sunstrider Isle and I could have you sent to the gallows just for looking at me cross." A little calculated fib never hurt anybody. She hoped.

"We're a long ways from Quel'thalas," he said, accentuating 'Quel'thalas' with obvious disdain. "I don't think ya have much influence here."

"Try me," she replied acidly, looking him full in the face with her eyes boring holes into him. She gripped at her dagger, scabbarded at her waist, for good measure in case he really did try her, and she allowed a faint glow of light to envelop her body, just bright enough not to be misunderstood as a trick of the sunlight.

The troll took a deep breath, puffing himself up for a moment before exhaling in defeat, his shoulders sagging. "Alright, calm down little miss Duchess. Just tell me what ya need and don't tell me it be a carrier for your palanquin or sometin'."

It worked! Seraphita resisted the overwhelming urge to smile and jump for joy; instead, she snorted a girlish "Hmph!" and pursed her lips as if she was reconsidering the idea of enlisting the troll's aid. Finally, after letting him stew for a long moment, she addressed him: "Tell me, what is the finest inn here in this wretched little city? I have traveled far and am in need of a fine bed and a warm bath." She fanned herself exaggeratingly with a dainty hand, pale as the finest pearls she used to own.

"That'd be The Golden Oasis," he replied, glancing longingly at the goblin woman.

"And where is that," she asked coolly.

The troll snorted like it was an obvious fact of the world that everyone knew and she, for not knowing, was somehow foolish. "Right there," he said, pointing up at what must have been the tallest building in town. A glowing golden palm tree sat atop it's apex, ensuring that it was impossible to miss.

Seraphita nodded. "Thank you, troll. You have done a great service." With that, she tossed a silver coin at him that he would no doubt transfer to the enticing goblin, and turned towards her destination. She was finally getting somewhere, though the pain of being deserted by her furry lover brought a sudden pang to her chest. Stifling it with a pained sob, she continued on, snaking her way through streets and potentially dangerous alleyways until she found herself at the front door of The Golden Oasis.

Mustering her courage and slipping that haughty, well-bred noblewoman mask back on, she stepped inside and was immediately greeted by a little goblin in a tuxedo.

"Good afternoon, madam!" he said, voice squeaky like a mouse. "I am Zizrek, at your service. What can I do for you today?"

"This is the best inn in town?" she asked, ignoring the goblin and glancing around, acting wholly unimpressed. Finally, she sighed and turned her gaze towards the little green man. Hopefully the act would work a second time. "I am Seraphita Silverbreeze, Duchess of Sunstrider Isle. I require your finest room... and a bath."

"Oh my. It's not often we get those of the Sin'dorei nobility as guests." He bowed at the waist and then straightened, his hands rubbing together greedily. "We can of course do that for you, Your Grace. There is only the matter of payment."

"Payment? You would have someone of my status pay to stay at this second-rate establishment?"

"I'm sorry, My Lady, but--"

"Fetch me the innkeeper, I would like to speak with him," Seraphita commanded.

The little goblin's green skin paled but he quickly scampered away to do as she asked. When he came back, a slightly taller and much fatter goblin accompanied him.

"Your Grace!" the rotund goblin exclaimed, bowing as much as his protruding belly would allow him. "I am Kracklepot, the proprietor of this establishment. How may I be of service to you?"

"Good Kracklepot, is it customary to exploit your noble guests here?" she asked.

"Of course not, we have the utmost respect for our dukes and especially our duchesses!" he replied, gesticulating wildly.

"So then why, after being accosted, robbed and having my entire retinue slain in my defense am I being asked to pay for sanctuary? I barely escaped with a second set of clothes!" Sera was a bit astonished by how easily the lies were coming to her, but she made sure not to let it show on her face.

Looking taken aback, the innkeeper barked at the smaller goblin: "Did you know of this?"

"No sir, I had no idea! If I did I--"

"Of course we will do our best to help one so noble as you within her time of need," Kracklepot said placatingly, cutting off the other goblin. "Please, come with me, Your Grace."

She followed him upstairs to the second floor, struggling to hide a grin in case anyone was watching. Perhaps she could have a future in acting at the theater. Of course, she'd probably have to take up a new name... and dye her hair...

"I cannot begin to express how sorry I am," he continued. "Usually our city is quite safe; you really mustn't think less of it... or of us."

"Of course not, Good Kracklepot," she said as if she had just spared his life.

"Good, good. We have only your best interests in mind here at The Golden Oasis," he said, noticeably relaxing and then adding: "And don't forget to recommend us to all of your noble friends."

"I'll think about it," she replied, dangling a metaphorical carrot in front of the goblin. And perhaps she really would if she ever got her old life back.

When Seraphita was finally shown to her room, she promised the goblin proprietor to have her husband send him half of his bloated weight in gold. His eyes grew as large as the gold coins he fantasized about, and, stammering her praise and bowing twice, he left her to her privacy. Locking the door, she threw her pack onto the bed and stripped, giggling to herself and drawing a hot bath from two shiny bronze spigots above the tub. She slipped into the pleasant water with the intention to relax, but her traitorous thoughts quickly turned her mood sour again. She couldn't help but think about how upside down her life had become, and the idea that her sea-time lover had used and then abandoned her made her seethe in a tearful rage. Despite her best efforts to dam them, they began to flow down her cheeks, dripping down into the eddying bath water.

When she had cried until she could cry no more and the pain was slightly more bearable, Seraphita cleaned up and, with a newfound resolve in her heart, got dressed in a simple short-sleeve, cream colored tunic, black cotton trousers, and patent leather boots. With or without Ren, she had no choice but to keep going and for now that meant purchasing supplies and finding a clerical physician to see if they could do anything about a potential pregnancy.

***

Ren, in his human form so as not to draw unwanted attention, hurried his way through Gadgetzan's Grand Bazaar, ignoring peddlers and merchants as they called out to him, promising great deals and even greater merchandise. Once a shanty little port town, the city had blossomed into a great big city within the past ten years. He knew it inside and out.

The bazaar was vast, crowded, and open, the sun looming overhead within a great, cloudless blue sky, empty of everything but singing seagulls circling back towards the nearby ocean. Stalls lined every street, colorful and carrying everything from fish to expensive jewelry; they extended from one city gate to the next like a great big vein. In many ways the bazaar was the heart of the city: people came here to make a living, to purchase food for their families, and to socialize. Children stole and played games with the merchants, running from guards whilst old men haggled until the sun set for lack of anything else to do.

It was a fine place to do business, though the business he was seeking was perhaps a bit different than most. Slipping between two orcs arguing, Ren pushed his way into a side street that went down a few yards before leading into a dead end against the back of someone's house. An old human woman with murky white eyes sat on a doorstep, her wiry hands fiddling with a trinket that looked far more expensive than she could afford. Next to her in the dirt sat a shaggy brown dog and it's tail began to wag when he stepped into the blocked off alleyway. Across from the woman and her dog was a sturdy door made of wood: his destination. He made his way towards it and the woman, though clearly blind, followed him with her eyes.

"Nice dog," he said, grasping at the door handle and looking back at her.

But she didn't say anything, and, after a sequence of patterned knocks, he quickly disappeared into the building. It was dark inside and he was immediately assailed by an almost overpowering haze that filled the air within the little home. He sniffed and rubbed at his agitated nose, blue eyes peering around the foggy room until he found the man he was looking for.

A stocky man whose face was weathered like stone sat on a plush velvet sofa, puffing on a hookah and fondling a pair of scantily clad troll women on either side of him. The trio giggled like little girls and laughed even harder when they finally seemed to notice him. Abruptly, the man stopped laughing and instead scrunched his face up, squinting at him as his addled brain chugged and slowly processed Ren's face.

"Ren Branson, is that you?" he wondered.

"Hello, old friend." The stoned man, Osric Strang, was more of an occasional business partner and informant than friend. Nevertheless, he was one of the most well connected men in the southern half of Kalimdor and it did good to keep on friendly terms with him. So, when Osric rose to embrace him, he hugged him back with a smile and gave him a couple of amicable pats on the back for good measure.

"I'd ask you what the hell you're doing in this dirty desert shithole but I suppose I already know, eh?" His words were slightly slurred and he smelled overly fragrant. "Did ya take care of her yet?"

"You got my letter then," he replied, more a statement than a question.

"Yours as well as others," the man said, a twinkle in his eyes.

"No, not yet, Osric. She's alive and well back on the ship we arrived in. I am looking for another elf though: a man by the name of Kaerys Soulgazer."

The bedraggled man pulled at the short blonde strands of his beard. "We don't get too many elves around here, and if you're talkin' about a blood elf there was this one peculiar fellow asking about a few days ago."

"Black hair, green eyes, little goatee?" Ren asked, then added: "Really ugly for an elf?"

"Yep, sounds just like him. Seems to think of himself as a bigshot. Went around searching for additional bodyguards."

"Additional?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He already had three but he was looking for a couple more. With his attitude I can't believe he needs 'em," Osric chuckled sarcastically.

"You might want to invest in a couple yourself," Ren said, noting the lack of weapon on Osric's person.

"Me?" he scoffed. "I've got these two lovely ladies here to protect me," he said, thumbing at the troll women on the sofa. "More dangerous than ten hyenas, they are--each! A lot sexier, too."

He looked at them and they at he. Though they eyed him with indifference, he could immediately tell that Osric wasn't lying. An immeasurable font of mana seemed to reside within each of the sultry trolls.

"I can see that," he said, turning his attention back to Osric. Ren was not here for a pleasant chat between friends, he needed more information about his target. "Do you know where this elf went?"

"Why, you gonna kill him?" Osric sounded hopeful. He was not a good man, but if anyone knew of Kaerys' whereabouts it would be him.

"I might."

"Good enough," he said after a long pause and then sat back down between the two trolls who subsequently nuzzled against him. "According to my men he took off through the southern gate."

"Any idea why?"

"Not a clue." Osric coughed, puffing on his hookah and whispering something clearly indecent into the ears of each woman.

"I see."

Having extracted all the information he needed, and with his friend's attention turning back towards more worldly vices, Ren thanked the stoned man and left. Stepping back out into the alley, the old woman was still there as if waiting for him, her dog just as much of an unmoving statue as she was. He nodded to her politely and then turned to make his way back into the bustling bazaar, but the old blind woman's shrill voice stopped him.

"He's not mine," she croaked.

"What?" He half-turned towards the woman.

"The dog. My son found him at Lost Rigger's Cove. Good place to hide, there."

"Good place to..." His voice trailed off and his eyes widened, a grin forming on his lips. "Thanks, lady."

Smiling and causing her face to wrinkle even further, she nodded at him as he disappeared into the crowded bazaar, one bony hand stroking her canine companion.

***

The bazaar had everything Seraphita needed and then some, but she refused to allow the aggressive vendors and hawkers to entice her into buying more than what she absolutely needed. Pocketing a tiny metal box of healing ointment, she exercised great restraint even when one of the merchants held up a beautiful low-cut dress, black with gold buttons and edged with an alabaster trim. Fleeing before she could change her mind, Sera, traveling on directions provided by a shopkeeper from earlier, made her way towards her next goal: a physician.

The physician's place of business was as unremarkable as the clay-brick homes surrounding it, made notable only by a sign above the entryway that had a white cross painted across it, as well as a number of circular windows that allowed plenty of light into the hospital. Stepping inside, there was but one room and it was crowded by furniture: a desk with papers and pens scattered about it, a row of wooden chairs lining the walls on either side of the door, and four snow-white beds. Three of the beds were unused save for the pillows resting upon them, but a fourth was occupied by a patient sitting atop it--a young human boy whose face was downcast and his head hung low. A pretty woman with honey-blonde hair was tending to him and, it seemed, lecturing him.

"One moment," she called, sparing a quick glance back at Seraphita. The boy's injuries didn't seem to match the severity of his expression, and the physician, whom Sera assumed was his mother, quickly finished wrapping his forearm in gauze. She murmured something to him, mussed up his sandy hair with a loving hand, and then sent him on his way.

"And go right back home to your father!" she ordered as the boy dashed past Seraphita and out the door.

"Cute kid," Sera said as the physician stood up and set her crystal blue eyes upon her.

"Yes, but he takes after his father a bit too much." Her voice was stern, but a smile betrayed her feelings. "I am Claudia, priestess of the Light," she said with a bow of her pretty head.

Sera inclined her head respectfully in return. "My name is Seraphita... also a priestess."

"Oh? Then why do you need me?"

"Well, my studies have focused more so on the combat oriented applications of our theology. I can heal of course, but..."

"You lack the less ostentatious knowledge in which we might serve others," the physician said, cutting her off. "In other words, the more boring skills."

Sera nodded meekly, and Claudia smiled at her warmly.

"Tell me what you need, dear," she said, folding her hands in front of her.

"Can you determine whether or not I am with child?" Sera asked.

"I can," the blonde priestess answered without question. "Come and lie down." She gestured towards one of the empty beds.

Seraphita did as she was told, lying down upon the bed with her fellow priestess leaning over her. Claudia reached out and rested a hand upon her lower abdomen. Her hand began to glow faintly and the sensation of sunbathing on a pleasant day began to fill Sera, accompanied by a tingling sensation in her uterus.

"Tell me, how long has it been?" Claudia asked.

"Since I last bled?"