The Carrion Fields

This story is set in Wintergarde Keep in Dragonblight. It is based on a quest near the beginning of the Wrathgate chain for the Alliance. The main character is Kall. I apologise for formatting - stories look terrible on the wiki. For prettier formatting, here are the deviantART links. 
*Part 1 
*Part 2 
*Part 3
==Part 1==
It was deceptively quiet up here. The silence of the air betrayed the terror of what Pentrarch Kall Sprangler could barely see through her glasses (which were frosting up already). She had been sent out here for a reason, so she knew it was there – and as she guided the Wintergarde gryphon slowly towards the Carrion Fields, the screams reached her ears at last. She had been expecting them this time.
Diving down amongst the ruins and siege engines, she scanned the ground for one of ten people she'd been told to rescue. She already had two of them safe – the night elf man (who was extremely grateful) and the dwarf woman (who was scared of heights). She knew, though, that there were two gnomes out there – they were her priority, although she fully intended to save as many as she could.
Dodging a crossbow bolt aimed at a skeletal gryphon, she pulled in close enough to the ground that she could fully see the difference between gnome and geist – and sure enough, being followed by a large mob of the vengeful monsters, was a small figure with a shock of green hair and a high-pitched squeaks as they clawed at her. She stumbled – and Kall chose the moment to fly in close and land for a few moments, throwing the woman a rope.
As the green-haired woman scrambled up onto the saddle, so did two other beings – a geist grabbed the other side of the saddle. Kall kicked it squarely in the eye with a foot, nudging the gryphon to take off in order to lose the other geist, which was trying to grab onto the gryphon's leg and rip the meat off it – but in doing so, she forgot to check the gnome woman was firmly in place.
She spun her head around back to the side where the gnome woman was scrabbling up into the saddle – but her hands slipped.
"No!"
Kall wrapped the reins quickly three times around her right arm and leaned down far to the left – there was a painful crack as she did so, but she didn't yelp – to try and grab the gnome lady's hand, but she'd fallen too far. The last thing Kall saw was the female's milky-turquoise eyes, wide with terror; and her mouth, open, in a small o-shape: before she fell below the height of the geists.
There was a scramble, fleshy sounds – a muted scream, ripping of tendons, and a sound like a nail being dragged down a blackboard. Then, as Kall flew upwards, the geists scattered again.
There was a stain on the snow, and a scrap of matted hair.
Kall felt sick.
The gryphon screamed, and so did her left shoulder – with little choice, she turned around and piloted the snowy gryphon back to Wintergarde Keep.
==Part 2==
"Geez, lass, it's beat up bad. Guess they gev' ye trubble out there, aye?"
"Yeah... I th... think I d-dislocated something..."
Kall's right arm hung limp by her side as she dismounted from the limping gryphon, which was promptly led off towards the stables by a young dwarf lad. The older dwarf then put a hand on Kall's left shoulder gingerly.
"Healers're over there. Ah'd go there if I wes you, and pref'rubly 'fore headin' back out there. An' yer leg's bleedin'."
Kall looked down, and sighed. He was right – there was a laceration down her right calf. She limped heavily over to what appeared to be a first aid stall covered from the elements by only a tent, pain lancing up through her leg with each step.
She was greeted by a human priestess, who sat her down on the edge of a straw pile with a sheet on top. The woman placed a hand gently on Kall's leg – the light magic bound the edges of the wound together – it left a hefty scar, but it was better than the alternatives.
"Does it hurt anywhere else?"
"I think I dislocated my shoulder."
"Hold still," she advised, "and tell me when it hurts."
Kall grimaced as the priestess ran her hands over her shoulder and arm. She yelped when they crossed the shoulder joint.
"Okay, now hold still and try not to scream."
The gnome didn't – but she did squeak a little, her mouth open lest she bite her lip off. There was an agonising click as the tiny joint was clicked back into place, and the human priestess placed her pale hands either side of the joint and healed gently.
"Better?"
"Yeah, thanks..."
The blonde-haired woman scrutinised the gnome's face. "What's wrong?"
"I let someone slip," said Kall, as if she'd been waiting to be asked.
"You're one of the mercs working with the gryphons for the rescue missions?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, if all else fails, there's always the Spirit Healer. Miracles can happen."
"I... I guess... thank-you. Can I pay you?"
"I wouldn't accept it if you tried," smiled the priestess.
Kall bowed to her and left the tent.
With that in mind, Kall picked up another gryphon from the dwarves and set off once again. Squinting through the snow that was now casually drifting down from the sodden white sky, she tried to catch – first of all – any glimpse of a green head of hair. She wished she had stronger glasses, and made a mental note to make goggles with adjustable focus.
Her concentration was broken when the gryphon squawked, and there was a whooshing noise – a passing chill, and they were sucked into an uncontrolled spiral. Kall just caught glimpses of the frost wyrm out of the corners of her vision before she pulled down against the gryphon's snowy down, still spinning – waiting for the turbulence to pass. It didn't. The gryphon fought for enough control that they could land relatively unharmed – and although Kall clung on as tightly as she could, the momentum thrust her from her saddle and she was catapulted out of the spin and away from the gryphon. There were a few moments where she was suspended in mid air, a bit confused about what had just happened... then she got a hold of herself, and pulled the rip-cord on her parachute.
The gryphon flew back to base.
Kall drifted on the wind for a little while. She wasn't very heavy – she prayed that the wyrms and skeletal gryphons would not notice her. Luckily, she passed through the airspace under Naxxramas unnoticed, although the frost wyrm that had passed them so close was following the gryphon back to Wintergarde. That was not of her concern. Her hand flew to her belt, and tried to activate her buzzbox. Nothing happened.
"Great..."
She checked her height. She was still a way off, so she started to draw her wand to...
"AIIEEEE!"
She was grabbed from the air by something tight and constricting and dark; it winded her, and shook her to the core. It hadn't grabbed her, it had grabbed her soul and dragged her body after her. She landed hard on the ground, shivering hard as she tried to shake its chilling residue.
It took a few moments before she could look up from her foetal position on the floor, to see a Death Knight champion (Scourge emblem proudly displayed on his breastplate; blue eyes blazing coolly) standing over her diminutive form. As she stared, she was aware of a few other figures gathering in her peripheral vision.
She said the strongest swearword that she could think of in the Gnomish language. This was it. 
==Part 3==
The axe arced like the scorching sun. There was never enough time.
Kall screamed and rolled to one side – the axe edge caught her arm, slashing through her clothes and breaking the skin.
Do it.
No.
Something (a geist, judging by the cold, sharp grip) grabbed her around the middle – she squealed again and wriggled in his grip.
Do it.
No.
In a panic, she tried to claw at its hands, but its skin only flaked off under her grip (which was tightening). A wave of nausea almost put a stop to her there and then, but she kept her concentration. She was aware of the death knight's smirk, the fact that this was not a geist, but a wight - and the fact that something else was grabbing at her feet (she was being held a good three or four feet off the ground). She tried to concentrate.
Do it! Now is time!
No! Haadhun, to me!
She exercised her control as a demonologist over her felguard, Haadhun – and he came to her in a matter of half a second. He materialised in the realm next to the death knight. She felt a claw at her leg, drawing blood on her ankle – and the wight's grip was now beginning to constrict her breathing, making her feel light-headed.
Do it NOW! This is why!
Fine, okay!
And...
She wasn't a gnome any more.
Her wings burst out from her back as her clothes faded into her skin, turning it a darker shade of tan – then slowly adding red to become a deep purple. She grew in size, and her voice boomed with harsh, angular words:
"Haadhun! Take the geists for now!"
She broke free easily of the wight's grabbing hands and spun around, catching it with the spines on her wings and scratching its face with her claws. She did not stop – she continued to claw for a good five seconds until it backed off, unsure of what to do. She twisted back to face the death knight champion (who was dismounted and parrying Haadhun's axe-blows) and the geists, all of whom were attacking the felguard.
Kall cast a small spell, and one of the geists turned to face her. It paused for a moment – a moment during which Kall, lifted by her wings, sprung forwards onto one of them and promptly ripped its head clean from its body. Standing promptly, she cast a spell, forming something which seemed to leak from her dark-toned skin into a solid form cusped between her hands before she threw it, embedding the red seed-shaped material firmly in the death knight's shoulder.
This distracted the death knight, and allowed Haadhun to get a blow through. There was a certain synergy between his and Kall's thoughts (they flowed together, harmonised, in ways which neither of them could quite grasp) that guided the blow towards that same shoulder. As the knight's arm split from his body, so the Seed of Corruption was also split in two.
It took out the remaining geist, and finished off the wight. The death knight recoiled, finally realising that he was out of his depth; an attempt to run was swiftly halted by a Shadow Bolt to his back as Kall morphed back into her gnome form. Her felguard then finished him off with a swift chop to his cowardly head.
Haadhun remained at Kall's side as she bandaged her wounds in a daze. She was panting heavily – bloodrage like that (especially when accompanied with a transformation) always left her with little energy and severely out-of-kilter thoughts – but she still had the foresight to send up the gryphon flare as she was recovering and not after. The new gryphon arrived as she finished her application of first aid, including anaesthetic herbs. Numb in several places and still bleeding, she dismissed her felguard in an off-handed manner, clambering onto her mount - trying to clear her thoughts of the fel noise.
They soared over the melée – the scourge were truly out in force, tonight. Kall half-wished she hadn't had to stop to heal, but she needed to do so again – anaesthetised limbs were beginning to have their muted screams of protest heard, her whole body threatening a shattering demonstration of its disapproval over her recklessness if she did not get proper healing, and quick.
But – as she flew low over the place as to avoid the frost wyrm, this time, and still get back to Wintergarde...
"Crap, no way!"
There was that green head, accompanied by screams. Kall swore profusely in Gnomish. She couldn't just leave the woman there, but both her gryphon and her might die if she landed again, and two dead gnomes was no better than one! And if she didn't make a decision now, the choice wouldn't be there to make.
She considered her home, her guild, her family – her children, all in a split second. Who would miss her if she was gone, and how they would deal with it. With this – she made her decision.
"Grab this rope!" Kall was flying low enough that the end of the short rope was dangling near the other gnome, within arm's reach. The panicking villager grabbed for it, missed – grabbed at it again with both hands, and clung as Kall pulled up above the danger level. This time, Kall hauled the rope – she half-grunted and half-yelped as she felt a wound somewhere open up (it didn't do well for her to think where it was), but the hostage was at least up in the saddle this time.
She knew there was a geist on the gryphon's leg, but she also knew there was very little she could do about it – she was beginning to feel light-headed and faint. She was aware of the fact that it lost its grip at a certain height, above the lower keep; and aware of the fact that her fellow gnome was clinging around her waist for dear life. She could feel something warm seeping down her side, and (although her attention was focussed firmly forwards) could see red at the edges of her dim vision.
"Wintergarde! NOW!"
The thirty-second flight was all she could hold on for. As soon as they landed back there, she passed out in the saddle – the last thing she felt was the warmth of the life behind her.
The ceiling was wooden, and the blankets were soft. Dull pain scolded her as she remembered what had happened, and her glasses were off... but her short vision did grant her a sight of a green smudge, looking her over.
"Are you awake?" came a chirpy voice.
She'd survived!
"Yeah..." Kall tried to sat up, failed once; tried leaning on the other arm, and succeeded. "Can I have my glasses?"
"Sure. Are you sure you're okay sitting up like that?"
"Yeah, yeah, I've been worse..."
Kall took her glasses and clumsily put them on.
"I'll get you some soup, okay? I'll get one of the priests to come and have a look at you, too." The green-haired gnome woman smiled. She was pretty, her emerald eyes sparkling in the candle-light (it was dark inside the inn).
"Okay..."
Bright green eyes. Green. Not turquoise.
Kall Sprangler decided not to think about it too much.
Category:Story