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20poundsoftrouble · 3 years

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Scourge Attack

((Co-written with @brent-sunborn / @thefugitivemango. It’s backdated to when the scourge event happened.))

The shop closed early for the day, much to Hyacinthe’s delight. So many orders were coming in for traps and explosives and cloaking devices that their hands ached from wiring and bolting and fastening. The devices weren’t difficult to build, just tedious. And that was the worst part. Nothing could be done to speed up the process, they just had to work straight through it.

Outside of Cut Throat Alley there were sounds of a bit of commotion, but it was hard to tell exactly what was going on. Given the recent celebrations for All Hallow’s Eve, the engineer figured that people were carrying on like they did. Things on the warfronts had quieted down with everyone’s efforts, so a bit of relaxing was due. With a smile, Hyacinthe retired to their loft bed, limbs aching with each ladder rung.

A scream cut through the walls of the shop like a knife, loud and shrill. The bard jumped, then scrambled across their bed to the window at the head and pushed it open. Said window overlooked the canal, where Hyacinthe could clearly see people running now. There was an acrid stench that hung in the air, but it could almost be dismissed before their blue eyes settled on it.

The risen scourge beast was giving chase to the woman who had screamed, dirt and grime falling off of its decaying body with each footstep. Old bandages trailed behind it, and where that one came from there were more shambling in. Hyacinthe’s heart dropped to their stomach at the sight, fingers digging into the window sill until their knuckles were white. The woman hadn’t escaped, and her screams had trailed off into a sickening gargle when the scourge beast bit into her throat.

“I have to run,” Hyacinthe muttered, yanking the window closed and bolting it.

They had already packed some bags in preparation for the newest dig, which was fortunate. It was easy to shove a few more things into a bag, just in case they could never come back. Hyacinthe’s heart was racing and sweat was beading on their forehead, causing the dirt and grime to pour into their eyes and hair to stick to their skin. For just a moment, the bard pulled their hands back from the bags and just looked at them. They were shaking, skin pale.

It was just like before.

Hyacinthe almost flew down the ladder to the ground floor with their bags and guitar, barely missing a beat when they shouldered the main door open and turned to lock it behind them. The air in the alleyway was cool and briefly felt like a blessing, but what was the next step. They looked down the small corridor that led to the canal-lined road, where they’d seen that woman get killed.

“Kai will be fine, she’s strong,” the bard muttered to themself, taking a deep breath to try and calm their nerves. “Brent. I need to make sure he knows.” Luck and adrenaline made the trip to their dig partner’s apartment quick, and they had narrowly avoided a group of geists feasting on a corpse. Hyacinthe knew how this would play out, they’d been through it before. First, the smaller undead came through and caused havoc. They were pawns, expendable. When the city was exhausted from wave after wave of geists, ghouls, risen skeletons… That’s when the bigger monsters would come. Abominations would lumber through and crush everything in their path. Armored skeletons with glowing eyes and large swords would swarm. Was Stormwind going to be razed in lichfire like Quel’thalas had been?

The engineer almost ran into Brent’s door before pounding on it, looking down the street to make sure there were no scourge following them. Tears poured from Hyacinthe’s eyes, anxiety unable to stay dammed up and controlled. Their breath was fast, hitching with fear as they pounded on the door again. “BRENT!” Hyacinthe shouted, voice cracking. “Please be home…!”

The door swung open just as Hyacinthe started pounding again. A hand reached out to grab the bard, and tugged them inside brusquely! Before they could say or do a thing about it, the door closed behind them.

“--Keep it down!” Brent hissed, shouting in a whispered tone. “You want to attract them all here?!”

The lights were out. Windows were boarded up and barricaded in the entryway. Quickly, he moved to re-barricade the door itself. It seemed Brent was well aware of what was happening outside. Or… did he always live like this? It was honestly hard to tell, both with how sturdy-looking the shutters were, and how well-practiced he seemed at barricading the door behind him. The front entryway of his domicile seemed rather barren. Simple crates and a small weapons rack filled with knives and swords and… a few pistols?

“Ditch anything you don’t need. Quick.” he instructed.

“Wh…?” they blinked, eyes adjusting to the darkness quickly.

Without really thinking about it, Hyacinthe set down their bags and guitar case, swallowing hard against their quick breaths in an attempt to slow it. Really, the inside of Brent’s apartment was a new place, but this wasn’t the time to be nosey. Their gaze settled on the weapons rack, then shifted to Brent again.

“Can we run? Should we run?” the bard asked almost frantically as they reached for the two sheaths attached to their guitar case, a set of vicious looking daggers pulled from them. Hyacinthe’s mind was going a mile a minute, but everything felt like it was in slow motion.

“--Of course we’re gonna run.” Brent snapped, clearly on edge, himself. “The city will be overrun in mere hours. I’m not sticking around for that again.”

With the door barricaded, he turned and strode with purpose towards another room; the doorway separating the entryway and deeper into the domicile veiled by a large, rather plain-looking drape.

“This way, quick-- bring whatever you’re taking, and leave the rest there.”

On the other side of the drapery was… another world entirely! At least, it seemed that way. The dark, warehouse-esque entrance hid a lavish interior in the main room, much better lit than the entrance. The room was reminiscent of a den in Silvermoon, with violet cloth and silver trim rather than the traditional red and gold. In lieu of any furnishings, pillows were strewn about on small platform-like mattresses-- there wasn’t an inch of the floor that didn’t look like it’d make for a comfortable seat or bed! The walls were indented in several hexagonal shelves, resembling something of an elegant honeycomb. Each shelf displayed something different; a vase, a bust, a mask, an ancient weapon on a stand… archaeological pieces, every one of them. A few had incense stands, burning lightly to fill the room with an intoxicating lavender undertone. Elsewhere on the walls were paintings, of an unusually erotic-yet-abstract nature.

None of this, save the artifacts, seemed at ALL like Brent.

As Hyacinthe entered the room, he closed a large, vault-like door behind them, and began to barricade the entrance all over again. He latched it closed, turning a large wheel to lock mechanisms on all sides. Then, as if that weren’t enough, he began placing beams in cross-pattern to further secure the doorway. Pre-cut beams and pre-sized slots… this room was designed for such security. It was a door fit for a royal vault, decorated like a royal brothel.

“Fucking Scourge… I knew we hadn’t seen the last of them.” he grumbled to himself, as he worked. “Why the fuck didn’t Kai say something?”

“She might not have known…” Hyacinthe’s statement trailed off, eyes going wide at the abrupt change in decor. For just a moment they were distracted, but the visions of Silvermoon made their heart ache anew. The bard was sweating again, breath short and fast as they stood still. No, no it was happening again. The purples and silvers and opulence brought back the sounds of screaming from the taking of Quel’thalas, and tears welled up in Hyacinthe’s eyes. The daggers that they’d been holding clattered to the floor. It was clear that though they were physically there, mentally they were disassociating enough that Brent ceased to exist.

Hyacinthe could remember very clearly the day the attack happened. Both of their parents had gone out to help defend the city, leaving their daughter behind to hide at home. While their parents were out, Hyacinthe had barricaded themselves in their closet, curled up behind the hanging robes and other outfits in the dark. The only sounds they could hear above the clamor of battle outside was their own choking sobs.

Brent, meanwhile, frantically focused on his preparations. The room was well barricaded now with the door secure. Still, his mind wouldn't leave it. He double checked - and triple-checked - each reinforcement measure once by one, hoping for a sense of security that simply wouldn’t come. Not facing this again. By all rights, the Scourge should have killed him in Quel’Thalas all those years ago. He knew that. Since then, he always felt he was living on borrowed time. He wanted only to stave off his death as long as possible. And now that the Scourge were here again, he took no shortcut-- spared no expense-- to ensure that.

“I have enough food for two weeks, if we’re conservative about it.” he told Hyacinthe, as he began to kick a few pillows aside. “I don’t know think they’ll get through, but if they do, there’s an escape hatch that leads through--”

He blinked, as the High Elf simply… stood there. Wearing a look of shock on their face. He huffed, reaching out and plainly slapping Hyacinthe!

“--Hey! Focus!” he shouted! “You let your guard down for even a second and we’ll get eaten! You understand that?!”

The strike twisted their head to the side, but not a noise was made as they brought their hand up to their face. It did snap them back to reality, but Hyacinthe just nodded quietly before looking around again. This wasn’t Quel’thalas, and this wasn’t their closet. The current sights and smells were leaking back into the bard’s perception like the first spring rain rolling off of a roof, bringing clarity back. “Yes, sorry. We… We won’t get eaten,” Hyacinthe’s voice cracked, the corners of their eyes still wet. When they dropped their hand, the red mark from Brent’s slap stood out bright on their pale and freckled skin. “We’ve got each other’s backs.”

Hyacinthe looked around the room, slowly becoming more animated. A little closer to the Hyacinthe Brent knew. They’d think about the sad another time. Now, blue eyes were searching for anything to help rig up traps. If the scourge got this far, the rogue wanted to get them hung up a little longer, allow them and Brent to get farther away. Managing Brent’s anxiety with over fortification would be easier than dealing with their own PTSD, at least for the moment.

“You said food, and a hatch? I’m sorry, I… Could you say it again? I’m here this time, I promise.”

Brent huffed, turning from Hyacinthe back to the clearing in the pillows he’d kicked aside. Reaching down, he tugged a section of the rug up, revealing a small floor panel with a handle set in. He tugged it up, revealing another well-secured trapdoor beneath it, boarded and bonded similarly to the larger door leading into the room.

“This’ll lead to the sewers, if we need to get out of here. There’s another door like this at the end of a long stretch of tunnel, guaranteed to be clear. For now.” he explained. “Last resort, though… we gotta hold it down here, alright?”

He closed the panel back where it was, leaving the rug and pillows disheveled on the floor around it. Instead of tidying up, he stepped over to one of the wall shelves, and opened a small jewelry box. A light shone from within it, from which Brent himself seemed to recoil.

“Come here.”

“We’ll be fine. We won’t need to run,” they nodded, more saying it to themselves than Brent.

With how fortified the room was, Hyacinthe was feeling just a bit more safe. They weren’t alone this time, and their partner was more than capable. The tension was dissipating a little bit, and it showed in their shoulders. The bard let out a slow breath, starting to realize that where Brent slapped them stung just a bit. Rude, but needed. Probably.

“What?” Hyacinthe wandered over, stepping over the piles of pillows that had been discarded to peer at the jewelry box. “Oh that’s pretty. What is it?”

“A Lightbomb.” Brent replied

He stepped back from it fully-- to give Hyacinthe a better look, or just to keep his distance, it was hard to say. The object was a glass orb, and as the name implied, it was aglow with a brilliant-yet-soothing Light which seemed to swirl within it like a liquid. It was rather calming to behold, warm to touch, but looked rather fragile as well. The box was lined with velvet padding, indented on the bottom to keep the orb from rolling around.

“Something I… found. A while back.” he half-explained further, with a shrug. “Throw it at a mass of undead, and it’ll vaporize them all. You’ll… you’ll have to do it, if the need should arise, yeah?”

He turned, stepping from the shelf to stand over beside a long bench, leaving the implication to hang in the air a moment.

“I didn’t know these were still around!” the bard shifted the box carefully to watch the swirling Light inside, visibly relaxing. Whether it was the effects of the orb itself or the distraction of the ever changing glow was unclear.

For Hyacinthe, remembering that Brent was void-touched only ever happened when they saw him from the back, the tentacles quite visible among the locks of dark hair. Curious things, dark purples and blues with an illumination that seemed to flicker like fire through them. The bard was drawn to them like a moth to flame, and it took considerable willpower to not just...reach out and touch them. As their thoughts wandered further down that path, Hyacinthe had to peel their eyes away from the orb and back into reality. Again.

“If they get in, I’ll burn them down while you open the trap door. You know I’ll watch your back, right Brent?” they offered a small smile, still not as bubbly as they once were. “And...thank you for not leaving me alone in this. I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Hmph.” Brent scoffed. “Don’t get all sentimental. You’re just lucky you showed up before I locked the doors.”

The archaeologist huffed in a show of irritation; a facade to cover his lie. He’d locked up well before Hyacinthe showed up. Painstakingly and at no small risk to his Scourge-survival plans, he’d removed the beams, unlocked the latches, and pulled Hyacinthe in without giving it too much thought. But they didn’t need to know that.

His adrenaline started dying down as he knelt beside the bench. The slip-cover pulled off easily, and the top opened up to reveal a cache of survival rations-- the same tasteless hunks of nutrients the two would take out on digs.

“Like I said, I got enough here to last two weeks, at least. So long as you don’t binge eat the whole damn stash. Control yourself, like our lives depend on it.”

That said, he withdrew a ration and unwrapped it, taking an unappealing bite out of one of the corners. He sighed, sitting with his back to the wall on the sea of pillows; the only real place the floor itself could be seen in here was where he’d uncovered the hatch. There were definitely less-comfortable places to wait out a Scourge invasion.

“Do I really look like the type to binge eat anything?” Hyacinthe poked at their own stomach, smirking. Truth be told, they could stand to eat more…

As everything was seemingly returning to normal, or at least the current normal, the bard felt themselves relax just a little. This whole room looked so….extravagant. And here they sat, pants still slightly greasy from work, shirt smudged and ripped in a couple of places, hair a mess. It was positively backwards.

Hyacinthe had so many questions. None of this fit with the Brent they had started to know, but maybe there was much more to the man than they’d anticipated? There were worse places to be, especially given the circumstances, but this… This was different. The bard looked around the room again, as if taking it in piece by piece. Their eyes scanned over everything as they looked. Hyacinthe found a comfortable place to sit, drawing their knees to their chest and wrapping their arms around them. “Do those things taste terrible on purpose? To keep people from eating too many in one sitting? Maybe it’s to make sure people actually drink water…”

“They’re practical. All nutrients. Nothing added for taste. Extra shit like that just adds more weight to them.” he shrugged. “They’re not supposed to be treats, just energy to get you through… whatever you’re doing.”

More often than not, Brent ate these as meals. Not just on the go, or as a last resort; too often he was busy or distracted, and wouldn’t sit down to prepare a meal or seek one out. Whipping a ration out of one of his pockets was simple enough to do. He always carried at least two or three.

He motioned to a curtain-- it looked like the other curtains in the room that filled in as wall decor, but on closer inspection there was a small door behind it, easily missed unless you were looking for it.

“Water’s in barrels in the washroom, through there.” he told them. “If you’re thirsty.”

Another bite, as he rested his head back with a sigh. He’d calmed down pretty well, by now. His ear flickered at every sound, but most of them were muffled beyond hearing. Occasionally a scream could be heard, if it was high-pitched enough. Brent tried not to dwell on what was happening outside. It seemed all he could do to keep his mind off of it.

“... Fucking undead.” he grunted. “Ruined the surprise.”

“Practicality doesn’t have to taste, or feel, like a brick…” Hyacinthe muttered, but they weren’t quite keen on eating one just yet. Not after what they’d seen…

Their eyes drifted from Brent to where he’d motioned, making note of the washroom. If they were going to be stuck here for weeks, at least they wouldn’t stink. Though, their mind was drifting along with the idea of being stuck anywhere for weeks. With Brent or no, the idea of being trapped made their skin crawl. There was only so long that staring at everything would occupy their time.

“Surprise? Did you buy Kai something to smooth over her being mad about you having a new partner?” they tilted their head to the side curiously, grateful for a distraction.

"Hah…"

Brent exhaled a dry and humourless laugh, bordering on a sarcastic scoff. He shook his head.

"That's… no. Not even close. You don't really have a handle on my friendship with Kai, so it's fine. But we're not the 'get each other gifts' kind of friends."

That being said, Brent himself wasn't entirely sure what kinds of friends he and Kai'eka even were anymore. It definitely didn't feel the same as it did back before the void. And her death only seemed to drive them further apart. Like the elf herself, their friendship seemed like a hollow husk of what it was before. He sighed at the thought, before shaking his head again.

"Last gift I got her was a box of cigars. She totally missed the point of them, though. Just demanded more later on, like it was one more use she could squeeze out of me…" he huffed. "But that doesn't even matter, yeah? I thought her death was the end of it. The chapter closed up on it. But then she had to go and get raised…"

Hyacinthe nodded quickly in understanding. They hadn’t thought Kai was the type for gifts, based on the brief meetings of her. A curious lady, brash and rude but it was...interesting? Not a person the bard would have ever chosen to interact with, but not unpleasant either. Hyacinthe watched Brent’s face as he spoke, trying to glean more from his expressions to add to his words. They had a small talent at reading audiences, might as well put it to use now.

“She wasn’t done causing you grief, apparently,” they smiled, chin resting on their knees. “So what was the surprise that was ruined?”

They tilted their head to the side curiously. The mention of the surprise was a much needed distraction, and if Brent was observant enough he could tell that Hyacinthe was slowly relaxing from where they sat trying to make themselves smaller in the strange room. No, they weren’t adjusting at all, but they were less terrified. And less worried about feeling stupid about that fear.

The Ren'dorei regarded Hyacinthe a moment, seeming to read them right back. His chewing slowed, eyes narrowing-- not in conjunction with a scowl, but rather in a pensive manner. A sharp exhale out his nose, and he shook his head.

"You'll see." came the unsatisfactory reply. "Later."

Content enough where he was, he crossed his arms and leaned his head back. With the adrenaline dying down, he felt fatigue starting to set in. They were safe enough for him to lower his guard and relax… but those ears of his kept perked and twitched at every little sound. He needed sleep, but knew it wouldn't be restful. Just as well.

"Now keep quiet and still. Don't rustle around too much. You'll only draw attention." he huffed. "We're okay for now, rest while you can, in case we have to run or fight later."

Hyacinthe knew as well that neither of them would be resting, but sleeping was the best way to pass the time. It’s how they had passed the first day of the attacks when they were younger as well. Without complaint, the bard shifted around pillows until a nice little nest was made, then curled into it. They wrapped their arms around a pillow and hugged it tight, closing their eyes and trying to not think of the things they’d seen on the way over here.

Though their body settled into a sleeping rhythm after a while, Hyacinthe still looked on edge. Their dreams wouldn’t be pleasant, but there was a small measure of safety in not being alone. This deep in hiding, the sounds from outside were mostly muffled.

#hyacinthe #brent #rp log #ptsd #scourge attack #scourge event #world of warcraft #roleplay #high elf #void elf #Brent Sunborn #Hyacinthe Duskbrook

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