(55) - Bring Out Yer Dead

"Top of the morning to yer, yer Lordship" pierced Griffonclaw's consciousness, bringing him out of the book of poetry he'd been reading in his favorite spot in the Pig and Whistle.

His eyes settled on the speaker, a shabby, crabbed, crippled old warlock called by all and sundry "Hellrat"; a victim of his own ambition, Hellrat's reach had far exceeded his grasp; he had lost control of the Fel demon he had tried to summon and compel to service, and had been maliciously crippled by the beast as a warning to other warlocks. Hellrat made his living doing minor conjury, selling his blood to other warlocks, and other odd jobs around the city.

And selling information. Hellrat was always virtually ignored by the patrons above and below the ground at "The Slaughtered Lamb", home of Stormwind's warlock covens.

"Hello 'Rat..." welcomed Griffonclaw with a smile. "Buy you a drink?" Negotiations with Hellrat were always conducted with an offer of lubricant; else the old, bitter cast-off was usually far to cantankerous to be reasonable.

"That would be most welcome," confirmed the gutter-lock, and smiled as Ellie delivered a pot of ale for his guest, and a refill of his own melon juice; not generally for sale, they kept a stock on hand for Griffonclaw and his guests. "I got some news for yer Lordship, though, about that bunny-ear lady you wanted me to keep an eye on? Vinrod?"

Griffonclaw sighed; he had long since given up on explaining to Hellrat that Griffonclaw was not a Lord, nor even of noble birth, but a bastard born on the wrong side of the bed. "Vinod" he corrected, gently. Vinod was - on the surface - a kal'dorei druid, a daughter of Elune. She was also an agent of the Forsaken rogue named Banshih, and as such, of particular interest to Griffonclaw.

"Yeah, Vinod... well, he just got her head chopped off at the Cath..." Two gold soverigns clattered in the tabletop (twice his normal fee!) and he turned just in time to watch the paladin exit the door with almost preternatural speed.

* * *

"This is most irregular!" complained Shaina Fuller, the medical trainer for the Cathedral of Light. Vinod's body and head had been brought to her when they'd been unceremoniously left ont he Cathedral steps. Shaina had only just begun to turn her attention to preparing the body for delivery to Darnassus, so that it could be buried with the full rites of a devotee of Elune.

"Mistresss Fuller.... this Daughter of Elune was slain on our very steps, in violation of all civilized law! Surely we must do our utmost to return her to her people, in the fullest flush of life, unharmed?" exhorted Griffonclaw. He was seeking to take custody of the body, and remove it to attempt a ritual of resurrection; heal the body, and restore the spirit. Often, when one died a sudden, violent death, the spirit hovered in the vicinity, and when the body was repaired, the Light could attract the spirit back, restoring life.

Mistress Fuller remained unconvinced. She had heard many dark tales of the paladin which stood before her in entreaty; that he was a renegade, that he was a traitor to the Alliance, that he walked the shadows, using the Light for his own purposes. That he was, in his own way, as big a disgrace as the Scarlet Crusade, even though he was accounted their bitter enemy.

Griffonclaw spoke in a low tone. "Mistress, you know that His Grace Benedictus trusts me; will you not find it in your heart to do the same? Perhaps if you ask him for permission to release the body into my care?" Appealing to Benedictus' trust and authority was always a gamble; while the Archbishop was a gentle and kind man, he was also an astute politiician, and knew that Griffonclaw was... how had Benedictus put it last time?... unorthodox in his orthodoxy". That he would grant such permission was not at risk; that he would require an explanation was almost certain, and Griffonclaw was not at all sure that the Archbishop would approve of Griffonclaw's motivations.

The plague had come to the Alliance; his Horde spies had fed him bits and pieces for weeks. The Apothecarium, whether by accident or design, had exposed members of the Crimson Horizon to the invection, and they had in turn brought it home to Stormwind. It had not taken hold yet, and was not invariably fatal - but the longer it ran its course, the more people would die, and the Alliance was not strong enough to survive a decimation of its population.

Vinod might know something, or know someone who might know something vital to the development of a cure. In extremis, Griffonclaw could have the information taken from her by his contacts in the Darkness, and if she knew nothing, perhaps Banshih would barter for her safe return.

In any case, it did no harm to try.

Finally, Shaina relented, and let Griffonclaw take custody of the remains.

* * *

"I don't understand it..." Griffonclaw said softly, his voice gentle in the echos of the crypts below the Cathedral. The resurrection, following the extensive healing of the body, seemed to succeed; the body had become animate again, breathing easily, circulation and heartbeat restored. The body itself was alive - but refused to wake, very similar to the condition that Griffonclaw himself had been in, when his body had been comatose after his soul was restored. His consciousness had taken weeks to return to his body, which had been cared for with tender affection by Griffonclaw's wife, Kestralil.

As the paladin was pondering what to do next, the candles in the room began to dim, as if their energy was being sucked into the Void. A chill ran through Griffonclaw, a familiar chill. Slowly, in the increased gloom of the room, a spirit began to manifest.

A swirl of ethereal energy began to coalesce, clothing animated around a feminine shape, blown by unseen winds, a chill, haunting voice, bony hands encircled by soul shackles. All that Griffonclaw could see of her features were the terrible icy white glow where eyes might once have been. Shadows coiled out, whipping the candle-light into a frenzy, and a sepulchral woman's voice spoke, with the hidden torment of a thousand damned souls.

""You called?"