Playing with Fire - Of loss and grief

Chapter Six: Deception

The difference between the landscape of Shattrath and Netherstorm made my heart sink heavily into my chest. Far from being a harmless enchanted forest, Terokkar forest still yielded us the background of dreamy, healthy blue skies and chubby white clouds lazily traveling through the horizon. Netherstorm had only stormy skies painted in violent hues, from the brightest violet tones of anger to the sickest and darkest deep purple. Lands that couldn't grow anything safe for consumption. Chunks of land floating around aimlessly, driven by some vestige of magic slowly fading away. But unlike our troublesome march on Shattrath, we simply teleported our small group to Netherstorm and there were no incidents.

We were welcomed and escorted to the city by a group of goblin guards that approached us on sight. I remember being uncomfortable with the way one of the guards smiled at me, showing all his little sharp teeth. He looked a little less like a green imp because he was chubby. Still ugly as hell, the tip of his long, pointy ears brushing my elbows as he tried to get even closer. You see, it's not that I don't like goblins; but they always seem almost as interested in my butt as they are in the contents of my pockets. I do appreciate their genius and intelligence. Unfortunately, all those wits are used to pursue their one true love: gold.

And their cities were very different from any I'd ever seen before. Area 52 was a good example of a standard goblin city: it was confined within a stone wall, slightly higher than a regular man, and smelled of oil, explosions and chaos. We could hear the noisy workers even before stepping into the city's walls, when I almost ran over a small, wandering mechanical device. The chubby guard with a creepy smile guided us to the inn, although there was clearly no need for that: easily recognizable, the inn was one of a few "regular sized" buildings among the many small buildings made up of stone and metal. The background of that unnatural painting of a village was composed of a patchwork of mechanic inventions and trinkets wandering around, dancing to the soundtrack of small explosions and actual spinning wheels. Inventors and engineers, they breathed their technology as elves breathed magic.

We made ourselves comfortable at the inn, where I got myself a room the size of a cabinet, up the stairs. It smelled of mould and something else I couldn't identify - it was better not to think too much about that. I went to the window and opened it. Far away, yet as flashy and jarring as a diamond on the neck of a peasant, Tempest Keep floated by the edge of the continent. The fortress looked like a magnet, as the flux of arcane power mined on the mana forges was directed to the keep, making it shine with a brilliance only mage's eyes could see.

My heart ached from a wound it had not yet suffered, foreseeing the pain it would carry. As I climbed the ladder of command inside Kael'thas' forces, coming back to that place as a traitor and conspirer was not in my plans. Nor was it to leave my beloved alone, with no answers, waiting for my reasons and only getting my silence. It would've been so easy to just take Ala'Nyr and fly over to Tempest Keep, so close it felt by my yearning to see him again, yet made so distant by my own moral compass. I couldn't go back to the life I was living - not after what I'd experienced.

Eventually reality slapped me on the face again. As night drew closer, hunger made my stomach growl and I went down to the inn to get something to eat. Always show your gold before you speak to a goblin and he'll be nice and helpful, I learned. Before my silver coin hit the wooden balcony, a goblin with a big smile was already running to my side.

"What can I do for ya, beautiful?" the barman goblin said.