Whimper

A Short Story, and Introduction of Shadowidget 

I put together a little bit of an RP background for my little gnome rogue known as Shadowidget. It’s a little short, but places him where he is today. 

Let me know in your comments what you think. 

Flixan Shadowidget

Flixan Shadowidget

 

  

 


A few loose sheets of parchment floated over the smoky streets of the Dwarven District.  It was late in the evening, and Stormwind’s guards had just begun to light their travel lanterns.  Eerie shadows flickered in the dark alleys as the guards passed by, no shadow distinct enough to determine what may have created it.  The resident rodents of the city had begun to emerge, emitting their distinct smells and sounds.  However, there was one shadow that did not seem to move, nor did it appear to have a point of origin.  As steadily as it had appeared, it was gone, leaving nothing but a faint mist in it’s place. Suddenly a gust of wind blew through the streets and across the canal, almost as if it had a sentience of its own, quietly fading near the entrance of the Blue Recluse. 

Here sat a young gnome, her hair showed a faint tint of pink, with a red handkerchief hanging from her neck, a pair of goggles perched on the top of her head.  On her small hand, just beneath the fingerless leather gloves, you could notice a small ring with the letters “EVC” preceeded by other text, etched onto it’s surface.  She sat quietly, as if waiting for somebody to meet her here.  As the bells of the Cathedral of Light rang, noting that it was half past 10:00, a voice from the back room called to the barkeep, pulling him away from the counter for a moment. During this moment the young gnome stood and made her way to the wine cellar, leaving a few gold and a folded piece of blue cloth on the corner of the counter. 

Her presence was requested here, this night, by an unknown benefactor.  With her position within “the Guild”, she knew not to ask questions, no matter what the circumstances may be.  She was told that another member, a human was supposed to provide her with critical information on the supply routes of Stormwind.  Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs she came to an abrupt stop, something was not right.  There were no lanterns lit, and it was near pitch black here at the base of the stairs. She suddenly heard a scurrying sound, almost as if one of the alley rats has made its way into the cellar.  She silently drew her dagger from her belt, gripping it tightly, and began to cautiously make her way deeper into the dark room.  A mere few steps in, she nearly tripped as she stepped on something far to soft to be a loose cobblestone from the floor.  Quickly taking a few steps back.  Her senses hightened by the unexpected object, she could hear voices from the bar above her.  It appeared that one of the Stormwind Guards had decided to make a quick stop before his nightly patrol. 

Startled she began looking around the stairwell, she noticed a small candle near the railing, and lit it, cupping her hand around the small flame.  As the dim light began to spread through the room, she began to see what she had stepped on.  It appeared to be her liason, yet he was not moving, and as the light penetrated deeper, she noticed the puddle of blood that began to seep into the crevices of the cobblestone floor.  Out of the corner of her eye, another shadow stirred against the slate walls.  Realizing something was very wrong, she quickly blew out the candle pulling the goggles over her eyes.  They were able to provide enough backlight for her to discern shapes in her surroundings.  She knew that she could not go back up the stairs, as one of Stormwind’s guards was taking a break before patrol, and did not take kindly to her affiliations.  So, she assumed that as in most taverns in Stormwind, there was another way out through the cellar. 

She silently slid further down the stairs and into the pitch black room.  Using the gnomish technology at her disposal to ascertain the surroundings.  Taking advantage of the rushing adrenaline in her body, she listened intently with the precision of a worg for any sounds coming from within the damp cellar.  Upon reaching the first of many barrels of ale and wine stored in this room, she began to catch the sound of what almost appeared to be a child crying. Maybe not crying, but whimpering as if it was lost.  Cautiosly she moved closer towards the direction of the sound, hoping to discover it’s origin.  This was no place for a child, especially with a killer roaming this very tavern.  Using her goggles she was able to determine that she was approaching another row of barrels and casks. 

Approaching the sound, she noticed that it had begun to change slightly, seeming to get deeper, less like a whimper and more like a frightened breathing.  Stepping forward, she again stepped on something soft. Quickly stepping back she reached down, hoping not to find another body.  Instead she found a small ragdoll, a child’s toy, but there was something familiar about it, something that brought along a rush of memories.  This was her doll, from her youth, but what was it doing here. 

Then as if reading her mind, a dim glow appeared from behind a set of barrels, moving closer to her. She was able to determine that it was likely another gnome, at least from its height and stature.  It slowly approached, reaching out a gloved hand, inviting her to come closer. 

“Ada… Adalace, it’s me,” a squeeky voice floated from behind the candle. 

“Who, who are you?” she replied barely above a whisper. 

“How can you forget me, was the doll not enough?” the voice returned. 

“Flix? Is that you?” she said. 

“It’s about time, I thought you had forgotten me. Especially considering how we parted ways,” Flix replied. 

“Wha-… oh, please forgive me, he meant nothing to me, only a business venture, completely platonic, nothi–” she said, interrupted by her hand being gently held. 

Upon releasing her hand, she noticed a few sheets of partchment placed in her palm. Looking at them, they appeared to be sketches of past encounters, rendezvous between her and a tall man with deep black hair in a dark leather vest.  Realizing what they were, she gasped, shaking a bit, not sure how to answer this silent accusation. 

“You were gone for so long,” she muttered. “I was alone, I needed someone to talk to, someone to listen.” 

“I forgive you…” Flix returned, “that, however, is not why I am here. I only wanted to get this off of my chest, to let you know that this was not our relationship.” 

He reached out cupping her cheek in his hand. “It is not you, but those whom you serve, and what they have done to my family.” 

Returning the gaze nervously, “those who I serve? Do you mea-” 

Without warning, pain shot through Adalace’s throat, a warm trickle began to flow over the handkerchief around her neck, staining it a deeper red.  Out of astonishment, she stared into the eyes of Flix, unable to speak, barely able to move.  Little more than a whimper escaped her lips as she fell to her knees. 

“The Defias shall fall… and no matter who you are… your blood will pay for the losses that I, Flixan Shadowidget, have endured,” Flix stated darkly, replacing the blood soaked blade into the sleeve of his tunic.  He gently laid Analace’s body next to that of the liason she was to meet. 

“Please forgive me…” he quietly whispered as he kissed her forehead.  He turned and picked up the sketches that he had shown her, tucking them into a small satchel at his side, and in a puff of smoke, disappeared.

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One thought on “Whimper

  1. Pingback: Rabid Yoda with a Mohawk « Illumination

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