May 29, 2020 2:41 PM
welcome to the world of warcraft
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Her kingdom for Hammer of Justice.  

"Hey, no running away," she complains. 

She contemplates tackling him, has a vivid recollection of being stabbed in the midst of attempting to initiate grapple with a fake dagger which she would very much not like to repeat with an actual dagger, and instead shifts her angle of attack to try to encourage his "retreat" to swing around toward the monastery. 

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Diane stops throwing fireballs and tags the fleeing bandit with a frostbolt, slowing him enough for Theriel to catch him.

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She can take an opportunity when it's handed to her on a silver platter. 

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... Is she going to have to decapitate him and carry his head to the Marshal or is there some less horrifying way to prove they did the thing? 

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"We can probably just take the bandanna or something?" Diane says doubtfully, prodding the body with her foot. "Oh, hey, he's got some kind of badge on his shirt."

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Theriel sighs with moderate relief. She's feeling weird enough about the, uh, actual human dead body that she personally killed. "Oh, good, that is way less gruesome and horrible," she says, and takes the badge. And his sword, for good measure. 

Back to the Marshal to receive a Good Job sticker? 

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The badge, if she cares to examine it, proclaims the bearer to be a member in good standing of the Stonemason's Guild, No. 678. It has a lion's head above crossed hammer and chisel.

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!!! 

She was right!! 

... wait, this might be terrible. Enthusiasm on hold until she figures out exactly how her freaky concussion knowledge maps to reality. It can't be directly, in the game practically every zone is at a different point in one of several timelines.

"You'd think at some point somebody would realize that you get fewer angry bandits if you just, like, pay people for their jobs," she says conversationally to Diane. 

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"Huh?" Diane is confused what has prompted this comment.

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"The stonemasons," she clarifies, showing Diane the badge. "They're mad because they didn't get paid, it was a whole thing, and if that's who the Defias are, that, uh, provides an obvious explanation for why they are bandits." 

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"The stonemasons were craftsmen, though. Like artisans. They had families, and stuff. I don't think they could all be Defias."

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"Wouldn't have to be all of them, just enough to cause," gesture around at the vineyard they recently had to clear a bunch of bandits out of, "a problem." 

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"I guess... Well, let's go show the marshal."

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Nod. 

What does the Marshal have to say about this interesting piece of evidence? 

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He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. Well done, you two. I'll see this finds its way to the appropriate hands." Theriel feels an odd warm glow.

"There are beds made up in the abbey. You can rest here for the night, and I'll write up a letter of commendation for you to take back to Goldshire with you in the morning."

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Ah yes, the warm fuzzy glow of satisfaction in a job well no wait that can't be right. She's ever felt warm and fuzzy about accomplishing a task and it doesn't feel so much like an actual thing happening. Maybe she has more hit points! That would be cool, except for how there's not really any safe way to test it.

Theriel thanks the Marshal for his hospitality and the opportunity to help (she loves helping!), and then it is time to obtain some sweet, sweet rested XP sleep, as normal humans need to do. 

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Yes, it has been a busy day. Diane gets slightly distracted by the many books on the shelves lining the abbey's walls.

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Diane is extremely valid.

... are they allowed to touch the books and if so is any of them a history book? 

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Yes, to both.

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Great! 

In the time before they need to actually for real sleep, Theriel would like to at least skim whatever here is closest to claiming to be a history of the Alliance. She's not expecting to find anything on recent history - in a world without the printing press (although maybe they have a magic equivalent?) the history books probably update on a scale of generations, not years - but she wants to know what the perspective of the people who actually live in Azeroth is on the events of, like, the Warcraft games. She-who-lived-in-Goldshire-all-her-life doesn't know much more than "Stormwind is where the King lives and also there are elves somewhere probably." 

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The evil orcish Horde first invaded Azeroth about forty years ago, and ravaged the kingdom of Stormwind. Later, the Northern Alliance of Lordaeron, Stromgarde, and Kul Tiras, with token support from the elves and dwarves returned to the south in force to drive the Horde back. The kingdom of Stormwind was restored and a watch set over the Dark Portal that the orcs came from. There was one additional push out from the Portal, but this was soundly defeated, and a brave group of volunteers, among them the great hero Anduin Lothar, the elven ranger Alleria Windrunner, and the archmage Khadgar, crossed over to seal it from the other side. Thanks to their sacrifice, humanity enjoyed a period of peace, with the evil orcs confined to internment camps or the deep wilds.

Some ten years ago, many things happened at once. The majority of the orcs, under the command of Thrall, migrated to Kalimdor. A plague of undeath swept through the north, and the kingdoms of Stromgarde and Lordaeron fell, betrayed by Prince Arthas Menethil. Arthas then led the undead Scourge on a path of destruction that destroyed the high elven kingdom of Quel'Thalas. The elves rebuilt their kingdom, but the humans did not. Lordaeron was claimed by Sylvanas Windrunner, styling herself the Banshee Queen, and her Forsaken, the undead former inhabitants of the region. Arthas Menethil disappeared, and is suspected to have traveled to icy Northrend with the remains of his Scourge.

Meanwhile, a Kul Tiran expedition to Kalimdor led by Jaina Proudmoore made contact with both the orcs and the mysterious night elves. After dealing with the treacherous orcs who succumbed again to the fel bloodlust, the Kul Tirans and the night elves joined forces to throw back the forces of the Burning Legion and their leader, Archimonde. The remnants of the Horde, still led by Thrall and now allied with the tauren, also made a small contribution to this effort. The night elves joined the Northern Alliance after this, now called simply the Alliance, with Stormwind returned to its rightful place as the leader.

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Great, okay, that all seems basically familiar. It's sort of funny how the story of the last generation basically ends "and then Arthas runs off to Northrend to be evil" and then a zillion things happened which somehow all ended up right back at "and then Sylvanas runs off to Northrend to be evil." Ah, the cycle of unlife. Maybe there are political historians right now writing sad retrospectives about how to prevent it from happening ten years from now again, that would be depressingly hilarious. It won't help, she suspects, Azeroth being sort of perpetually on fire. 

 

She sleeps fitfully, and dreams of N'zoth. 

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In the morning there is breakfast, and two letters of commendation for delivery to Marshal Duggan in Goldshire, should they decide to continue to aid the militia.

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Mmm, breakfast. Theriel wonders if the fact that mana recovers with eating and drinking and can be ingested in the form of potions means magic in Azeroth is in general associated with a metabolic process for human(oid)s and doing lots of paladining will mean she has to eat more. Maybe Diane would know. "Hey, you know things about how magic works, do you suppose I am super hungry because of channeling the Light to be good at hitting things or is it just all the running around?" 

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"Hm. It's a bit of both, I think? Mana can't just come from nothing."

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