Bring out your dead

There before her sat the daunting task which she yearned not to partake in. Her lab was covered in the corpses and remains of those that had been found in a makeshift grave outside of the small medical camp here on this wretched island. Putting her face into her hands, she gave an exasperated sigh. The druidess leaned back in her chair and looked over to what stood before her. Hours of work documenting, sorting, and then properly identifying the remains of the fallen. 

She got all the tools she knew too and then began meticulously combing the medical records of those who had made their way to the island. Say what you will of the Horde and Alliance, their recent conflicts had resulted in much better record's keeping then previously. 

With a mask over her mouth, goggles covering her eyes, and her hair tied back in a pony tail she started the grim work of measuring teeth, hip bones, skull fragments, and more. The mass grave left before her a reminder that this world was still far from done healing its wounds. With the first corpse upon her table the compassion that came with being a doctor gave way to the harsh realities of needing to get the morgue dealt with as quickly as possible 

A wide set of shoulder bones, even if the flesh was scorched beyond recognition, little more then a pile of bones. Male, Human, dental records seemed to match those of a Samuel Wyldell, age 43. He had been a Sergeant of the infantry division dispatched here. Survived only by a daughter, aged 21, the druidess began drafting her letter. 

They had all been the same, yet so different, each letter straining to take away a bit more of your soul as you conveyed to those who would never have a father, mother, brother, sister, daughter, son come home. 

Dearest Isabelle, 

My name is Doctor Alnarra Elsora K'Shinar Stargrove writing on behalf of the Alliance Military on the date of 05, October, Year 32. It is with great sadness that I must inform you of the death of your father, Samuel Wyldell, at the hands of a yet unknown assailant. You may collect your father's remains at the address listed below, I will ensure that they are handled with care on their journey back home. You have my sincerest condolences. 

- Doctor Stargrove

After the letter, her next least favorite task, filling out the death certificate with the time of confirmed death as well as her signature and ensuring that it was placed in the proper files. For a matter that was so sensitive, it at the same time seemed so clinical and without thought. Each of these people had a life, a family, a place they belonged, and now here she was tagging and bagging them as little more then one more in a line 

She moved on to the next, quickly finding an identifying tattoo, a Gery Thommasi, age 36 of Sentinel hill, serving as a senior medic. The humans were always the most difficult to identify, made all the more difficult when records weren't quite correct or lacking in details. Much the same a letter to family or next of kin and a death certificate quickly made their way across her desk. 

Her lab coat had gotten dirty with blood and charred remains as she had to often times dig through the scarred and unrecognizable flesh in order to identify the owner. Next up the short stature of the victim helped narrow it down and before long a small surviving family trinket helped Alnarra determine the victim was a Walda Brewgranite, Age 71, a corpral and engineer from Khaz Modan. 

Each culture had their own unique approaches to how a burial should be handled; however, there was no time for such things now. She would leave the ceremony to the priest and family afterwards, she had to press on, a job to do for certain. 

The job never got easier, Cormac Jepsin, a 20 year old Private out of Lakshire, barely old enough to leave his home and now he lay as little more then a pile of ash, bone, and charred flesh on some cold metal table on a far away island. The druidess long ears sagged as she went about carefully documenting and measuring to ensure that the individual in question was indeed matching what was on record. 

Such horrific means of disposal often wipe away the traditional means for identifying remains and even more so take away the dignity of the dead. The long ears of the next victim gave Azun Blazepyre, age 117, a corporal and battlemage from Tranquilien a more easily identifiable form even amongst the charred remains. Bowing her head slightly it in a way reminded her horribly of her own wifes mortality, what fate awaited her, would she have to bury yet another that she loved? 

The tides of war had made it more common place to stumble into those who before might have been considered rare was now more common. And so when the next corpse presented as more green even amongst the black it became easier to identify them. Kima Goreclaw, Age 23, a private who had come from razor hill. 

It was perhaps the hardest letter of the bunch to write. With Sin'dorei, humans, dwarves, there was a cadance to the writing, she felt as if she could communicate in a sympathetic manner to the family of the deceased, but with the orcs she was never sure. She did not know if they wished sympathy or assurances that their loved one had served with honor. Regardless she tried her best and soon another envelope sealed, another tag on a delicately wrapped set of remains. 

As the hours dragged on and the druidess stunk not only from what she had been working with but her own sweat, she managed to identify Llwellyn Marsh, a Half-Quel'Dorei man only 19 from Dalaran. The sight of such a young individual, dead on a table was a bitter reminder. Not unlike the young Cormac before, Llwellyn too had been taken away at a young age in a horrible manner. It was greater then a tragedy. 

The scent of burnt flesh and fur gave away her next set of remains. Rolson Dunwhich of Stromwind. A medic and a man cursed with the worgen disease which her people had been responsible for bestowing. A deep sense of regret filled her at the notion that so much pain must come as a result of her people's doing and now as some final insult it would be yet another Kaldorei wrapping him up to be placed to rest one final time. 

Small and green, it made Alnarra worry for a moment that perhaps it had been her newly met friend, but teeth and piercings soon proved such an assumption incorrect. Kylia Gripgear of Ratchet, a 29 year old young medic who surely had only been doing her part now joined the bitter remains of the fallen. She wasn't sure how to write to goblins either, did they want to know about insurance? Compensation of some kind? The druidess shook her head, it was not something she could be responsible for. 

And then the final corpse gave her pause, a Kaldorei woman, serving as she had, a medic, a Kaldorei. When she put the name with the corpse she realized that the two had served together for a short stint during the war in Pandaria. Shaking her head, while for the past corpses she could not muster the strength nor the will to bless the dead, she broke her short lived tradition. 

"Goddess, I ask you to watch over Elinara Braodarrow, who served you without fear and without question. Guide her to her place among the stars" 

With the last of those corpses having been named, having at least been restored the honor and dignity of a proper burial she finally sat down, and staring over at the now cloth wrapped remains of her sister Kaldorei she openly wept, a fear and a sadness that it could just as easily have been her. 

Hunger Pains

The woman shot out of bed, covered in sweat. Her sheets were soaked all the way to the frame of the little makeshift cot she was sleeping in. The simple linen T-shirt she had worn, drenched, and her mind in a rush from that dream... that horrible dream. 

All the mirrors turned down, the images in them getting stranger and stranger, it had become better not to look anymore, instead tucking them away to no longer be seen. In the corner of the room her lab work sat quietly, untouched after what one could imagine was barely a quarter night's rest. A stack of empty tuna cans, and various other rations was piled up in the corner, the flies already picking up on the smell. She would have to take it all out in the morning. 

But she could not shake that dream, those images which had flashed through her head, of her skin just starting to melt away, to fall off and on to the ground. Exposed bones and muscle rancid with rot and decay as if her body was simply melting there. 

She quickly checked herself over before walking towards the little sink. Turning on the water she splashed her face and closed her eyes not wishing to look at the attached mirror. Taking a deep breath she shook her head "Only a dream Alnarra, only a dream". Her heart raced and her mind ached for answers, but none had come to her. The research she had performed turned up little and her mind was starting to grow at it's whits end

At every corner she saw them, those forsaken abominations the butchers of her people now walking as ally to her and her kin. She wondered how the Draenei did it, how they managed to stomach standing shoulder to shoulder with the green skinned monsters who had committed such atrocities on their people. How each day they seemed to manage to bite their tongue and work hand in hand with the very same people that only years earlier would have driven an axe into their skulls without question. 

Now she was left with these anxiety's, a camp filled with the very same soldiers that only earlier that year may very well have been at the burning of Teldrassil itself, to have been there as her people burned to death without hope of salvation, trapped in a funeral pyre that could only be rectified by the goddess herself. Was one of them going to ambush her, to come and finish the job that had been started? How many more Kaldorei were left to give their blood? How many more of her brothers and sisters would have to lay down their lives to protect this world? 

And then there was that terrible hunger, which nothing seemed to quench. Even dropping out of her Saberon form did little to quench the gnawing sensation. She had eaten entirely through all the supplies she had brought with her, and the rations being passed around at camp were hardly enough to keep her stomach quiet. She had started taking little gnomish weight loss and hunger suppressants in hopes of calming the sounds of her belly. 

Whining softly she rubbed at her face, and where there was still sweat the druidess tried to brush it away. Looking back at the sheets she sighed and started trying to undress the bed only to be reminded of that dream, of holding her ear in her hands as it fallen away from her head like little more then the skin of a doll dripping down in a hot fire. 

The memory caused an instant revulsion and almost sickining sensation, causing her to retch for a moment before catching herself. She did not know what sort of horrors were afoot here, assuming only that this was the last wrathful lashes of the last of the old gods, hoping perhaps it would be the last horror inflicted upon this land. Maybe if they could just bear this little bit more there could be peace

Section 28 Report - A197G [3] - $216

 TOP SECRET // LIMITED DISTRIBUTION 

Classified By: Mikuza Nightblade
Reason: 1.4(a) 
Downgrade to: Confidential on 10472.06.12
Declassify on: 10572.06.12 

Alnarra K'Shinar Stargrove

• Height: 6'8" 
• Weight: 230lbs
• Eyes: Silver 
• Birthdate: 08.08.4600PS
• Spouse: Elynxdria Stargrove K'shinar (U) : Living 
• Spouse: Veraldan Stargrove (U):  Deceased 

Test Subject Information

Subject was chosen as mother had participated in Operation Rebirth (CS). Subject was subjected to a large swath of events intended to trigger latent anger and emotional trauma. When subject failed to respond in a timely manner, subject's children we reassigned to Forward Camp "Alpha 2" during the war of the shifting sands. Alpha 2 location was provided to Silithid as a target. The death of subject's children result in intended effects (TS //LIMDIS) 

Subject began employment with Section 28 in an attempt to avenge the death of children in 997.03.25PS (C) Subject was willing to engage in a number of covert activities to assess combat capabilities and mental fortitude.

Subject had worked with Section 28 until the death of spouse (Veraldan Stargrove) on  28.01.25 (C//FGI). Spouse was terminated by the group known as "Twilight's Hammmer" (C//FGI). Following spouses termination Alnarra Stargrove Terminated involvement with Section 28. 

Subject was integrated into Section 28 Leadership structure on 32.05.23 (TS//LIMDIS) following legion invasion. Subject's druidic abilities and physical form were enhanced and training with use of Nightborne Temporal manipulation and Fae Magic illusions were used to ensure subject's combat readiness (TS//LIMDIS)

Modifications (TS//LIMDIS) 

• Subject's eyes were enhanced with Sprite Darter essence to provide subject with access to a series of illusionary and anti arcane abilities. Subject was taught to make use of occular adjustments in order to dispel arcane illusions, weaken arcane magics, and otherwise enrapture opponents in a Fae Magic Illusionn. 
• Note: Large Scale Illusions proved strenous on the subject as well as long term use of the abilities. Subject was noted to have several instances in which strain on the occular abilities resulted in shattered blood vessels in the eye which required repair.
• Subject already possessed mastery of Ironwood, and as such was simply given combat training on how to better use Ironwood for defensive and offensive purposes. Abilities include rapid weapons crafting, summoning of Ironwood Treants and then layering them with Fae magic in order to allow a Mirror Image style combat. 
  
• Subject also possessed significant knowledge of the use and manipulation and intertwining of her blood with ironwood to be delivered as a weapon to attack opponents organs at a cellular level.
• Subject was provided with mastery over an experimental form, hence forth known as a "Saberon" form. Form was based upon druidic experimentation with a variation of the Goldrinn based Worgen form. It was thought that the use of Ashamane as the spirit would result in a more tempered feral spirit. Results are promising but subject lacks adequate combat potential. There were no signs enhanced aggression as a result of taking this form. 
• Subject's lungs were enhanced with shamanistic magic to allow for extended ability to engage in underwater activities. 
• Subject was taught to make use of Faerie fire for damaging and Anti Arcane combat. A variety of techniques were passed along to the subject so that she could use these abilities offensively rather then simply as a method for revealing enemy forces. 

Other

Following the events that resulted in the 4th war, it was of the opinion of the Priestess council that subject be released from her leadership role within Section 28. Section 28 continues to monitor subject for any improvements or otherwise valuable information which can be gathered. (C) 

Subject appears to have become the subject of a number of bounties as a result of their work in the events leading up to the fourth war (C // FGI). 

Top Secret / For Limited Distribution 

Dear Diary

The druidess eyes began to grow heavy, her head bobbing as she tried to stay up and focused. To her side were a collection of the samples she had managed to collect from the island. A two headed butterfly that seemed to be in the middle of a metamorphosis. In another vial a sample of an individual who appear to have been consumed by spores of a rather invasive and now named fungi, the White Veil. 

She had in another set of tubes, vomit, blood, skin samples, and saliva of an individual who had been in direct contact with the fungus and survived. Her lab equipment? A temporal repeat field of a much smaller scale then what Section 28 had used for training. She had stolen it before she had been forced to abdicate her position and it served as a treasured piece of equipment. The ability to perform a near endless number of experiments on a specimen and then simply reset the temporal stasis chamber so the sample was never destroyed proved beyond invaluable. 

Her notebook had hundreds of small scribbles, various measurements taken with Gnomish, Draenei and even her own people's tools. From natural magic to close examination at a near microscopic level (or as best to microscopic as her gnomish eye enhancer 50000 could get). She had exposed each and every sample to all manner of substance and material in order to get a better handle on just what it was she was dealing with. 

Still the temporal anomalies in the cave were what bothered her most. She had collected a number of fragments, yet none seemed to show the tell tell signs of temporal magics at work which would indicate they were the source of the issue. Rubbing at her forehead, how many hours had it been? 72? 96? Since she had last slept? She was starting to lose count and her irritability at the meeting the night prior only seemed to drive that point home. 

Sighing some she looked over at the 20 or so cans of empty Gnomish Wing Drink that lay scattered across the floor. In a way it brought her a little excitement, she hadn't gotten this much into her research since her wife had come down with the Silver Sickness; however, she knew that family nor friend approved of her approaches to research. 

Looking over at a clock she gave a little frown and the purple fur coated woman went to stand, her tail dragging along the ground as she looked around her small makeshift lab for a place to lay down and call it a night. Grabbing a few pillows a nice cot seemed to do the job and she rolled into it staring at the ceiling and letting her mind wonder. 

The screaming of her loved ones that had come when she shifted to her feline form rushed back to her in this moment of quiet and she began to try and take deep breaths to block it out. Shaking her head she sighed "Not real...not real... just an illusion" the feline's snout burying in a nearby pillow as she then covered her ears with her paws. 

She could not shake the feeling that this was more then a simple fungal growth issue, the tactical part of her mind jumping to the wish she had operatives to deploy and gather more information. Without Section 28's array of resources she was left with only friends and family, and goddess knew that was growing few and far between. 

The Storm Glaive had fallen into financial insolvency, and she and her wife had been forced to relocate to a small apartment in Booty bay which had left them strained for money. Alnarra had hoped that perhaps this little adventure might net some coin, but with each passing day it seemed to be more an effort in futility to not spend what little she had remaining in savings. 

There was an interesting Worgen fellow down in Booty Bay which had offered her the possibility of coin in exchange for help with a bounty, perhaps she would take him up on it. There was also a kind Goblin woman she had met while examining the mines. Goblins were always the type to know how to find a good deal, perhaps she might have some ideas on ways to make coin. Rubbing at her forehead she shook her head a bit 

Araane was out here, that was a curious happenstance. She hadn't seen the druidess in just as many years now. In fact the last time Alnarra recalled seeing her ursine friend was at the Tournament of Ages nearly two years ago. It gave her a warm smile to think of sparring with the woman verbally and perhaps physically once again. She wanted to show off the strength of this Saberon form and could think of no one better to demonstrate that to then head of the Devilclaw. 

Regardless, now, now she needed sleep and for that it would take more then simply clearing her mind. Reaching into her satchel she pulled out some pills and popped them into her mouth. It wasn't an eloquent solution, but it would do the job of knocking her out, which she needed at the moment. 

Night Terrors

A distant scream, muffled by walls and shouts

Her eyes darted about the room, there was a bright light directly above shining down, more intense then staring directly into the sun. On either side two men in blue lab coats, their hands gloved, and their face covered with mask. Her mind races as she struggles against the bonds, though a quick glance would show there were no bonds at all.

The sound of a drill echoed against the walls

Intense pain, shooting horrible pain, she could not see, she was blind, what had they done? Her face was covered in blood. Her face covered in a cloth like bandage, the agonizing pain would not stop though. Her ears would not stop ringing with all those mechanical sounds. She felt at her face and could only feel the blood-soaked bandages.

Light, just barely visible through the cloth, the sound of scissors cutting away at layer after layer. Slowly the weight of the fabric started to fall from her head onto the floor below. As the bandages fell away a mirror stood before her. Those were her eyes, but were they? What eyes stared back at her?

“Fae, Arcane, deception, reconnaissance” a voice echoed in her head, a throbbing pain against the back of her neck

The screams, again, the masked men surrounding her

The world seemed to come to a stop as she heard them speak “Count backwards from 10” and as she did the world seemed to get hazier and hazier. Upon waking it was like an anvil sat upon her chest, countless machines beeped and whistled and chirped. She was restrained and could not move. Others watched carefully taking notes

Splash

There in this tank of water, but she could breathe as if she walked the land, her eyes cut through the haze as she focused on her target. A legion soldier working on some manner of corruption. With surprising speed, she was upon him, their gazes met, and he was locked in an eternal slumber from which there would be no escape. Endless torture in his own mind, but locked away, safe to slit his throat.

---

The druidess shot out of bed; her whole body covered in sweat. Her heart was racing as if she had just run a marathon. She simply began to weep rubbing at her eyes that were hers, but they were not. She took in each breath knowing that her lungs were her own but at the same time they were not. The voices echoed again and again, but the screaming had never been hers.

The pain had always been welcomed, accepted, like a pact with the devil. Closing her eyes again her mind dwelled to the orders she had given the research division, to enhance her form so that she could more easily engage the forces of the legion. 

A Bounty (BFA)

It was a quiet night there in the confines of the steam jungle town. The waves crashed against the rickety pier work that the Goblins had paid the lowest possible bid for. The druidess sat, staring out into the night sky. Before her, a small plate of spider kabobs seasoned the way she enjoyed. Taking a deep breath, she gave a bit of a burp relaxing into the chair, letting herself sink down.

She had needed the rest and relaxation after getting trapped for so long on that strange little island. Lucky for her, she usually found a bit of a good time in places like Booty Bay. Humming, the woman reached for a little book she had brought along with her, that was until a knife slammed into it.

Her head turned only to see the tip of an arrow on a rather precarious path for her face. It took less than an instant for years of battle-hardened training to kick in. With a firm shove against the base of the table, she forced the chair she was sitting in to fall backwards. The arrow’s feathered tail brushing against her nose as her body seemed to make its way towards the ground.

Grunting as she hit the ground with a thud, she drew her attention to the direction of the knife and arrow. Meeting her eyes were two orcs looking rather proud of themselves.

“So, this is the great Alnarra Stargrove, so-called spymaster” one of them huffed.

“You’d think if she were so good, she wouldn’t have even let us this close hmm? Easy to track and even easier to kill” the other teasing.

The druidess was now laying on her back. Her eyes staring up at the sky with a facial expression that one could only describe as irritated. Giving a long sigh, she closed her eyes “If you leave now we can put this all past us and no one needs to die tonight”

“The only one that’ll be dying tonight is you” the closer orc grunted. “The head of Alnarra Stargrove goes for a good bit of coin in the right markets” he sneered.

 She seemed to nod, her eyes glancing over “Well I offered” she smiled.

It had taken years of training, of leading Section 28. Now though, the once calm and kind druidess shaped into a killing machine. Much to her chagrin, it seemed that a demonstration of that machine would be getting used once more.

She pushed off against her hands beginning to do a backflip. The orcs responded in kind. Knife and arrow whistling into the night sky aiming with lethal intent for the woman. Their path was soon interrupted as roots erupted from the wooden floor beneath knocking them into the wall and window frame alike.

Landing like a cat, with grace upon her feet, the silhouette of a night elf vanished. Soon the glaring silver eyes of a saberon fell upon the two intruding green mercenaries.

“We know all about your claws Ms Cat” one taunted. He pulled an axe from his back and charged towards the lithe anthropomorphic feline.

The druidess reacted, once again roots shot from the woodwork. This time it was not to change the direction of the axe, but rather pooling like a knot in the saberon’s pawed hands. With a moments breath, the Ironwood seemed to stretch out forming two blades that caught the edge of that axe between them.

Pushing back against the raw strength of her attacker her eye caught sight of another arrow. Launched while she had occupied herself with the first orc, it's target was her head. Taking a deep breath, the druidess's cheeks billowed outward followed by a purple fireball erupting from her mouth. Colliding with the missile, the arrow disintegrated into ash in the windless room.

 “This may be a better fight then we were hoping for” the orc bearing down with his axe shouted at his partner. “The bitch actually knows how to fight”

His comments generated a grunt as the second bow-wielding orc. Within moments, he knocked back a second arrow, no intention of letting it get caught up in a stray fireball.

Growling into the night sky the orc eyed his opponent. That axe bared down upon the woman’s twin blades forcing her to buckle. “Last chance,” she said with a calm expression.

“For you,” he seemed to smirk. More force swelled before the axe seemed to cleave its way through the Alnarra's defences. The ironwood blades seemed to shatter. the massive blade drove into the woman’s chest. Blood sprayed across the Green skin of the orc as a howl of laughter seemed to erupt from the two mercenaries

“Get er head,” the bow-wielding Orc said with a pant, putting his arrow back in the quiver at his side.

As the Orc pulled his axe back there was a gasp of air from the saberon woman. As if choking on air, she lifted her fingers and seemed to be pointing towards the back of the room. The orc confused for a moment turned from what he was sure had been a successful kill. His eyes began to fill with horror.

The bow-wielding orc gave a confused glance at his partner before turning his eyes to the same spot. His own jaw dropped.

The saberon stood before them, unscathed. Holding in her hands were the same two blades that had snapped like twigs moments earlier. The prey they were sure they had killed before seemed to vanish like a swirl of dust leaving the axe to drop to the floor.

Those silvery eyes though, there was something different. Any illusion of peace had vanished from them. Staring for any length of time seemed to make both men almost sick to their stomach. sweat dripped from their neck, and the whole floor seemed to feel as if it was moving.

As if moving in and out of Shadows the Purple Panther like woman got ever closer. Both men felt as if their bodies were so heavy, their mouth dry, their heads screaming in pain. The room seemed to spin as the shape before them crept forward. The moonlight filtering through the broken boards above illuminated the slow steps towards them.

The bow-wielding orc could not even seem to lift his bow, “But how…” he managed to whisper.

“Shh…” was all that greeted him in response as clawed hand seemed to puncture the whole of his abdomen. His partner watched in horror as those claws shone in the moonlight now stained in blood.  They pushed through the entirety of the bow-wielding orc’s form.

Slumping forward the orc began to choke on his own blood as Alnarra pulled her clawed hand back. She tossed the green form aside like a ragdoll.

Approaching, the axe-wielding orc’s eyes met Alnarra’s own. He seemed to almost find himself lost in the ocean of thoughts that invaded his own. The room vanished, replaced with a whispering forest. His arms and legs now bound and tied trees with thorned Ironwood. He struggled but it seemed to only cause pain.

“Who wants my head?” she asked

“Go to fel bitch” the man spit. In response, the thorned roots squeezed tighter and found new and more horrible places to wrap themselves. He could only scream in pain

“Already been, didn’t agree with me,” she said looking down at her bloody paw “My head, who?” she asked again

“A man named Hieren Dawnwater, of the Forsaken,” he said with a choked breath. “I don’t know where he is, we’re supposed to deliver the—” he choked again. his eyes unable to focus on the almost serene forest around him. “Silvermoon” he managed to make out with a whispered breath.

“Thanks” she said before taking one of her ironwood blades from earlier and shoving it through the man’s throat and into his skull

The illusion of the forest seemed to vanish, and the Orc’s corpse hit the ground with a thud. The druidess looked around and shook her head, her eyes glancing back to her book from earlier. Removing the knife blade from it she chuffed “I was going to read this” she said in a scolding tone to the two corpses.