Warcraft: Unity: Stormcaller - Epilogue
Stormcaller is now complete! Please proceed to Unity Chapter 12 (if you like), or any of the other Unity stories! Please look forward to Legacy, the sequel to Unity Soon[tm].
Title: Unity: Stormcaller
Part: Epilogue
Word Count: 1271, Total: 37,907
Includes: Spoilers for the Bonus Orc Campaign, character death, violence, strong language.
Pairings: Implied Thrall/Jaina, Jaina/OMC.
Summary: During the Late Winter of the 27th year after the opening of the Dark Portal, something dark and sinister calls terrible storms to lash the coast of Kalimdor, its source seemingly Jaina's old home: Kul Tiras. Vowing to do what is right, rather than take an easier path, Jaina returns home to speak to her estranged family and protect her family, her allies, and her own people from the Stormcaller.
Previous: Unity Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
Stormcaller Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
It’s good to be home, Jaina thought with warmth as she appeared in her office. It was cooler here, though the snow had slowed to almost nothing, and soon without the influence of the Sea Witch and the Stone of the Tides, it would all melt away, avoiding more harm to the marsh. I just have a few more things to do, and then I can relax.
She’d spent the evening, and then much of the next day with her family. Rhiannon -- little Rhi -- had been as much of a delight as promised. Calia, her new sister in law, in a different permutation than had been planned, had been pale, drawn, but ultimately agreed with Jaina’s assessment of events.
She seemed interested in Thrall, though… perhaps she wants to offer official apology for what happened in the Camps? Jaina mused as she walked, knocking lightly on office doors, and was met with warm greetings and questions. I’ll let her make that judgement, she’s Queen after all, albeit of a fallen country.
“Jaina!” Tervosh called, and gestured her into his office. It was cramped, and organized into boxes, as though he had only just moved in, instead of having used it for nearly a year. “You’re back, how did it go?”
“I defeated the Sea Witch,” Jaina replied, producing the Stone of the Tides from her sleeve. “Tandred helped, a bit. He’s a good distraction.”
“Dare I hope that means the Alliance won’t be breathing down our necks any time soon?” he asked, and Jaina smiled.
“I can’t promise Varian won’t, but I’ve explained things to them, and I found out why they didn’t want to talk to me.” At his raised eyebrow, Jaina added, “Jonathan.”
“Good riddance,” Tervosh said feelingly. “So, you’re back for good?”
“I have something I want to check, and then I’ll be set to rest for a time,” Jaina promised. “How’s Theramore?”
“No permanent damage, the wards dealt with much of the snow until it started to rain,” he replied. “You can take control of them when you like.”
“I believe I will, thank you.” Jaina tugged back the sleeve covering her left arm, and touched over each of the beads, murmuring softly. One by one, they brightened from dark blue to bright, brilliant purple. She felt a heavy, familiar weight settle onto her shoulders, and sighed happily. It’s not at all like guilt… it’s responsibility, and it’s mine.
“Don’t forget to get your rest,” Tervosh warned. “And eat, Cynthia’s been all at sixes and sevens without someone to feed kippers to.”
“I’ll rest, and I’ll eat,” Jaina said. “You worry too much.”
“We worry about you,” Tervosh said, but smiled. “Go on, do what you must.”
“Thank you,” Jaina said, bowed mockingly, and departed his office. It took time to leave her tower, as every person she met with wanted to know if all had gone well. It feels good to be worried about, even if it can be a trifle constricting, she thought. It means people don’t merely tolerate me… they care. It makes everything worthwhile.
The snow had slowed to sleet, and then to mist, by the time she departed her tower, and even with the hint of chill in the air, Jaina felt warmer and happier than she had in months. With a moment’s concentration, she could see her wards, arcing above her, detecting hostile magic and keeping track of all that approached the island.
No force would ever use her island as a staging ground. No army would ever invade it, no fleet would ever bombard it. Not while she drew breath. Now all that remains are internal threats. I won’t borrow trouble. I’ll deal with them as they come.
There were two primary gravesites in Theramore. The first, and more prominent, was the open air graveyard on the far side of the bridge that had been constructed to reach Theramore from the Marsh, and open to all. The bodies there were cremated, and space carefully husbanded to avoid too much expansion, but the gates to it bore the inscription, “You will be Missed”. Every death, every casualty of war or victim or expired individual would be missed. There was a second gravesite, this one strictly private, locked behind iron gates, and only two individuals bore the means to open them: the caretaker of the dead, and Jaina herself.
As she approached the gates, she looked up at the inscription she had chosen. “Peace has its Price.” She had wished, with all her heart, she would never add more to this gravesite. Reaching out, she touched the lock with one finger, and it unlocked. Jaina pushed the gate open, and closed it behind her.
This was the final resting place for Jaina’s enemies, and it was a tomb. There was no need to light a torch before opening the door that guarded its entrance: it was a simple matter to summon light, white-purple and heatless, to illuminate the darkness. The steps were narrow and stone, and they took her down. The walls were made of bricks, though instead of proper, red-clay bricks or even cut stone, they were made of thin metal, carefully reinforced and braced, and fortunately, most of them were empty.
Most, but by no means all.
Each filled brick held the cremated remains of one of Jaina’s enemies. Most had fallen during her father’s invasion, though some, like Paval Reethe, had died later. Jaina traced her free hand along the inscriptions set into the side of each brick, reading the names, and paused.
[Jonathan Taylor, executed for treason, HSY26]
“You failed,” Jaina said softly. “You tried to destroy my peace, and you failed. You tried to destroy my relationship with my family, and you failed. You tried to make me miserable, to ruin everything I’d ever accomplished, and you failed.” She let venom fill her voice, vindictive despite herself. “I’m alive, and you’re still dead. I’m in love with a good man, and even if we can never be together, it will still be better than anything you ever offered me.”
There was no answer, and there never would be. “You weren’t the last of the traitors. Your legacy persists, but as every month passes, there are fewer dissenters. Varian is always angry, but we can keep him at bay simply by being too inconvenient to interfere with. Orgrimmar and Durotar thrive. I live out in the sun, and you will stay here forever in the dark.”
Jaina flicked a finger at the brick, turned on the stairs, and ascended to the surface once more. She locked door and gate behind her, and with them secured, she smiled. She teleported the short distance from the gravesite to her room in her tower.
Jaina glanced around, smiling. Her room had been cleaned, her robes neatly hung up and folded. Jaina tugged her poncho off, and hung it up, her boots coming off a moment afterwards. She divested herself of the rest of her clothing, and slipped into a robe.
She pressed a rune on the wall. “Cynthia? Could you send up some tea, please?”
The kettle’s hot, Lady Proudmoore, it’ll be on your nightstand in a moment, came the reply, and Jaina smiled warmly.
Tea, and now bed, Jaina thought with a smile, and then… Entertainment.
Jaina pulled back the covers and climbed into bed, tugging the blankets back into place, and glanced over at the nightstand, the sensation of magic tingling across her senses as her cup of tea, brewed to her exact taste, appeared. She reached for it and took a sip, sighing contentedly. She balanced the cup against her knee, and retrieved the communication rune from the side table.
“Thrall,” she said softly into the activated rune. “I’m home, did you have some time to talk?”
[End]
[ Unity: Chapter 12]
Title: Unity: Stormcaller
Part: Epilogue
Word Count: 1271, Total: 37,907
Includes: Spoilers for the Bonus Orc Campaign, character death, violence, strong language.
Pairings: Implied Thrall/Jaina, Jaina/OMC.
Summary: During the Late Winter of the 27th year after the opening of the Dark Portal, something dark and sinister calls terrible storms to lash the coast of Kalimdor, its source seemingly Jaina's old home: Kul Tiras. Vowing to do what is right, rather than take an easier path, Jaina returns home to speak to her estranged family and protect her family, her allies, and her own people from the Stormcaller.
Previous: Unity Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
Stormcaller Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
It’s good to be home, Jaina thought with warmth as she appeared in her office. It was cooler here, though the snow had slowed to almost nothing, and soon without the influence of the Sea Witch and the Stone of the Tides, it would all melt away, avoiding more harm to the marsh. I just have a few more things to do, and then I can relax.
She’d spent the evening, and then much of the next day with her family. Rhiannon -- little Rhi -- had been as much of a delight as promised. Calia, her new sister in law, in a different permutation than had been planned, had been pale, drawn, but ultimately agreed with Jaina’s assessment of events.
She seemed interested in Thrall, though… perhaps she wants to offer official apology for what happened in the Camps? Jaina mused as she walked, knocking lightly on office doors, and was met with warm greetings and questions. I’ll let her make that judgement, she’s Queen after all, albeit of a fallen country.
“Jaina!” Tervosh called, and gestured her into his office. It was cramped, and organized into boxes, as though he had only just moved in, instead of having used it for nearly a year. “You’re back, how did it go?”
“I defeated the Sea Witch,” Jaina replied, producing the Stone of the Tides from her sleeve. “Tandred helped, a bit. He’s a good distraction.”
“Dare I hope that means the Alliance won’t be breathing down our necks any time soon?” he asked, and Jaina smiled.
“I can’t promise Varian won’t, but I’ve explained things to them, and I found out why they didn’t want to talk to me.” At his raised eyebrow, Jaina added, “Jonathan.”
“Good riddance,” Tervosh said feelingly. “So, you’re back for good?”
“I have something I want to check, and then I’ll be set to rest for a time,” Jaina promised. “How’s Theramore?”
“No permanent damage, the wards dealt with much of the snow until it started to rain,” he replied. “You can take control of them when you like.”
“I believe I will, thank you.” Jaina tugged back the sleeve covering her left arm, and touched over each of the beads, murmuring softly. One by one, they brightened from dark blue to bright, brilliant purple. She felt a heavy, familiar weight settle onto her shoulders, and sighed happily. It’s not at all like guilt… it’s responsibility, and it’s mine.
“Don’t forget to get your rest,” Tervosh warned. “And eat, Cynthia’s been all at sixes and sevens without someone to feed kippers to.”
“I’ll rest, and I’ll eat,” Jaina said. “You worry too much.”
“We worry about you,” Tervosh said, but smiled. “Go on, do what you must.”
“Thank you,” Jaina said, bowed mockingly, and departed his office. It took time to leave her tower, as every person she met with wanted to know if all had gone well. It feels good to be worried about, even if it can be a trifle constricting, she thought. It means people don’t merely tolerate me… they care. It makes everything worthwhile.
The snow had slowed to sleet, and then to mist, by the time she departed her tower, and even with the hint of chill in the air, Jaina felt warmer and happier than she had in months. With a moment’s concentration, she could see her wards, arcing above her, detecting hostile magic and keeping track of all that approached the island.
No force would ever use her island as a staging ground. No army would ever invade it, no fleet would ever bombard it. Not while she drew breath. Now all that remains are internal threats. I won’t borrow trouble. I’ll deal with them as they come.
There were two primary gravesites in Theramore. The first, and more prominent, was the open air graveyard on the far side of the bridge that had been constructed to reach Theramore from the Marsh, and open to all. The bodies there were cremated, and space carefully husbanded to avoid too much expansion, but the gates to it bore the inscription, “You will be Missed”. Every death, every casualty of war or victim or expired individual would be missed. There was a second gravesite, this one strictly private, locked behind iron gates, and only two individuals bore the means to open them: the caretaker of the dead, and Jaina herself.
As she approached the gates, she looked up at the inscription she had chosen. “Peace has its Price.” She had wished, with all her heart, she would never add more to this gravesite. Reaching out, she touched the lock with one finger, and it unlocked. Jaina pushed the gate open, and closed it behind her.
This was the final resting place for Jaina’s enemies, and it was a tomb. There was no need to light a torch before opening the door that guarded its entrance: it was a simple matter to summon light, white-purple and heatless, to illuminate the darkness. The steps were narrow and stone, and they took her down. The walls were made of bricks, though instead of proper, red-clay bricks or even cut stone, they were made of thin metal, carefully reinforced and braced, and fortunately, most of them were empty.
Most, but by no means all.
Each filled brick held the cremated remains of one of Jaina’s enemies. Most had fallen during her father’s invasion, though some, like Paval Reethe, had died later. Jaina traced her free hand along the inscriptions set into the side of each brick, reading the names, and paused.
[Jonathan Taylor, executed for treason, HSY26]
“You failed,” Jaina said softly. “You tried to destroy my peace, and you failed. You tried to destroy my relationship with my family, and you failed. You tried to make me miserable, to ruin everything I’d ever accomplished, and you failed.” She let venom fill her voice, vindictive despite herself. “I’m alive, and you’re still dead. I’m in love with a good man, and even if we can never be together, it will still be better than anything you ever offered me.”
There was no answer, and there never would be. “You weren’t the last of the traitors. Your legacy persists, but as every month passes, there are fewer dissenters. Varian is always angry, but we can keep him at bay simply by being too inconvenient to interfere with. Orgrimmar and Durotar thrive. I live out in the sun, and you will stay here forever in the dark.”
Jaina flicked a finger at the brick, turned on the stairs, and ascended to the surface once more. She locked door and gate behind her, and with them secured, she smiled. She teleported the short distance from the gravesite to her room in her tower.
Jaina glanced around, smiling. Her room had been cleaned, her robes neatly hung up and folded. Jaina tugged her poncho off, and hung it up, her boots coming off a moment afterwards. She divested herself of the rest of her clothing, and slipped into a robe.
She pressed a rune on the wall. “Cynthia? Could you send up some tea, please?”
The kettle’s hot, Lady Proudmoore, it’ll be on your nightstand in a moment, came the reply, and Jaina smiled warmly.
Tea, and now bed, Jaina thought with a smile, and then… Entertainment.
Jaina pulled back the covers and climbed into bed, tugging the blankets back into place, and glanced over at the nightstand, the sensation of magic tingling across her senses as her cup of tea, brewed to her exact taste, appeared. She reached for it and took a sip, sighing contentedly. She balanced the cup against her knee, and retrieved the communication rune from the side table.
“Thrall,” she said softly into the activated rune. “I’m home, did you have some time to talk?”
[End]
[ Unity: Chapter 12]