Chapter Text
Surviving Pilgrim’s Bounty
Odesa took a deep calming breath, and gripped Kovari’s hand tight as they stood on the walk way, just outside Silvermoon’s Shepherd’s Gate. Once upon a time, this gate had opened from the city out into formal gardens, sporting greens, and family entertainment zones.
The surroundings still held hints of this grand previous existence and a different usage once; shrubs planted in graceful arcs, fall blooming foliage and ornate benches placed just so for perfect calming views. Further clues lay in the expansive lawns, faded ground markers showing they’d been laid out for croquet courts and badminton greens, in the areas near the city walls.
The Shepherd’s Gate, mere park access, had catapulted to being the main city gate ever since the rampage of the scourge. The beautiful arching formal entrance had been decimated by Arthas’ undead scourge mobs. Arthas had marched them straight in, blowing up the portcullis and siege doors, before literally cutting a swath of destruction through the city. They’d gone out too, crushing the northern gates, on their way to ransack the Sunwell on Quel’thalas.
The former croquet and badminton areas before the Shepherd’s Gate were, for the time of Pilgrim’s Bounty, a gathering space for families and friends. For people traveling from one principal city to another to gather, and enjoy local cuisine and dishes from far away. It was an occasion to forget Arthas, forget the destruction, and just enjoy one another.
At the moment, the couple breathed in the crisp cool afternoon, bright sun glinting off the verdant green lawn, with a light breeze sighing through the fall foliage.
It was the breeze, Odesa mused to herself, that had given Eversong Woods its musical name. It was never too strong, never more than delightfully cool and never ceased to sing through the tree boughs. Jewel-toned orange, yellow and red leaves had fallen, scattered almost artistically across the expanse of the outdoor feasting area, lending the required autumnal tones. The weather had been magically tweaked slightly cooler than usual, so the folks in attendance (primarily slight bodied, long eared blood elves) could look fashionable in cable-knit wool sweaters.
Elegant round tables, roughly six feet in diameter, had been laid out with an eye to balance and beauty under the arcing limbs of the trees, and a clever screen had been put up, so anyone sitting at the tables who happened to be facing west, would not have to see the horrible black Dead Scar with its staggering undead zombies carved through the land up to the original formal front gates of Silvermoon. A few diners were enjoying the views, with servers in uniforms wandering here and there, pitchers of water, or hot coffee in their hands.
“What are you thinking?” Kovari asked her, shaking her arm a bit. He wore a tan suede jacket with fleece lining, his blond hair cascading in complimentary contrasting shades of wheat, gold and sunshine over the shoulders lifted her heart.
“I’m thinking when we get married, this might be where I want to have the feast too.”
Kovari had asked her, nearly a year ago, during the Winter Veil celebrations in Thunderbluff, to be his wife. With all the goings on of adventuring in Northrend, they were yet to set a date. This trip home to Silvermoon for Pilgrim’s Bounty was going to be a time they hoped they might get to talk about it.
“What, not down at Satheril’s?” Kovari was chuckling, so she knew he wasn’t serious. Lord Satheril had a sort of non-stop bacchanal going on down on his estate near Fairbreeze Village, he was forever leaning on vintners and chefs to provide him with fresh dishes and wines to feed his guests.
A wait-person came over and led them to a table, thankfully set them facing east so it was easier to forget about the dread-scar, and after a short few minutes, some of Kovari’s proteges arrived to sit with them.
Somarulan, short, even for a blood elf, and stockier than most elves in general, sat on Kovari’s left. As an off-duty sentry, he wore Silvermoon colors, red and gold, and like most people these days, wore weaponry at his belt.
“Captain,” he said by way of greeting, his short blond hair standing unruly, as though he’d taken off his helmet and not had time to brush it down.
“Somarulan! So good to see you, this is my fiancée Odesa,” and here, Kovari turned, with a sort of wave at Odesa beside him. Odesa nodded and smiled, but caught Somarulan’s glum narrowing-of-eyes as he recognized her. The moment was unmistakable, but fleeting, for Miramas and Virasa brunette-haired twins had arrived.
Miramas had short spikey hair, not unlike Somarulan’s. His broad shoulders eased back into his chair. His twin Virasa wore her dark hair bobbed at chin length. Both wore casual clothes, but Odesa noted short swords at their belts too.
Rokenna, archer cadre leader was on duty, Kovari had said, so she would be joining them a little later, with Odesa’s sister Shylia who was in Paladin training with the Blood Knights at their school north of Silvermoon.
Miramas sat beside Odesa, and Virasa sat beside Somarulan.
Introductions were made around the table, and Odesa felt some mildly hostile vibes from Somarulan, but the twins seemed not to hold any dislike for her.
Odesa still had her sisters, though her parents were dead. In more recent years, her family had come to include an adventuring group that ranged from her Alchemy master Nru, to hunter-Orcs, Troo and Krivar, Trolls like Emi and Tia, and Tauren folks like Olwyn and Dwuu.
This year the group had gone their own ways for Pilgrims Bounty. Nru was attending an alchemy seminar in the depths of Undercity, and Meshanka, Odesa’s oldest sister had gone to Booty Bay for Pilgrim’s Bounty this year, to see her twin sister Ellodie, and Ellodie’s human partner Henry. Kovari, as far as Odesa knew, had no remaining family, but this year it was a good time to Silvermoon and reacquaint himself with folks he used to work with before the events that got him tossed out of the Silvermoon Sentries. Family of a different sort.
“Isn’t this lovely, the way they’ve got it all set up?” Miramas asked, by way of ice breaking. His emerald green eyes were taking in the other tables, the small catering tent with its bustle.
“Yes, I really love how they incorporated the old landscaping. I haven’t seen this area used for social gatherings in a long time. When I was a child, I remember there used to be a hawkstrider riding ring, and for five coppers my sisters and I would go round and round.”
Miramas’ eyes went wide. “There used to be hawkstrider rides?”
Odesa realized these twins were very young, if they didn’t remember the hawkstrider rides. “Yes, and there was play equipment across the roadway,” her voice dropped off, she had gestured to where she remembered the play zone to be, and it was mostly cleared away, but blackened foundations for the climbing structure remained, the outlines of the pretend fort she remembered running through with her older sisters, her memory imposed over the wreckage. She had to look away.
“Maybe someday it can be rebuilt, but my older sisters and I had great times out here.”
With a sigh, she let the thoughts and memories go. She needed to be in the here and now with Kovari and his friends and former proteges.
“I knew there was a playground, I hadn’t known about the hawkstrider rides,” Miramas said.
“The stables are still there, it’s where citizens leave their mounts now.” Odesa waved off further east, the top of the stables was visible from where they sat.
“Hey, Captain,” a voice called with loud enthusiasm from near Shepherd’s Gate. A tall blood elf woman with sandy brown hair, and still in the Sentry uniform, carrying her bow and quiver as she trotted toward them. Behind her came Shylia, Odesa’s Paladin sister. Shylia carried a thick book, and had a broadsword strapped to her back.
“Lia!” Odesa yelled, and scrambled out of her chair, running to hug her older sister.
Shylia’s dark hair was swept back off her shoulders, and she had to juggle the tome to her side but she had a hug for her little sister, and big grin across her face. Shylia felt muscly Odesa noted, more so than the last time she’d hugged her. It had been years, she realized, and hugged tight, one more time before letting go.
“Oddie, wow you’re all grown up!” Shylia patted her sister’s head, “I have to reach up now to do this,” she ruffled Odesa’s bobbed hair, and the sisters linked arms, grinning on the way back to the table.
Those at the table had turned to watch the reunion, Rokenna still standing at one of the two empty chairs, and Somarulan with his body turned, definitely had his eyes narrowed, a frown puckering his lips and chin into a reproachful point. Odesa was pretty sure the anger and disapproval were not for Shylia. His eyes lingered on the rogue and not the paladin, gaze snagging on Odesa’s belt pouch where her small stash of dagger poisons, healing and energy potions were kept. Odesa tried not to let his attitude wreak her mood, but his eyes shot daggers at her as she sat. She turned to watch as her sister and Rokenna sat, close together, shoulders bumping, smiles just for one another and suddenly Odesa knew they were a couple. Her heart warmed for her sister, happiness was hard to find and it was good to hang onto it and nurture it when you could.
“I see a family resemblance,” Rokenna was saying, looking between Odesa and Shylia, “Y’all smile the same quirk in the lips, same twitch of the eyebrow, I can see it.”
By now, the servers saw they had a full table and had come around with dishes to share. Odesa took some sweet potatoes baked with honey and herbs to perfection, a few slices of the roasted bird and contented herself to dig a fork in and savor the sweet potato. Eyes closed, the flavors sifting on her tongue, she heard someone clear their throat loudly.
Her body jerked back with a slight startle, eyes opening to see everyone but Kovari (who had paused, fork in one of the steamy piles on his plate) was dividing their attention between her and Somarulan who had made the noise for their attention.
A bit guiltily for forgetting her manners, Odesa set down her fork, and trying to keep from chewing, turned her attention to Somarulan.
“A toast,” said the short blond elf raising his glass of sparkling cranberry juice, “To those who cannot be here with us. We gather in their memory, and to celebrate those we still do have,” his eyes shot a meaningful glance at Kovari, “on this day of feasting for Pilgrim’s Bounty.”
Here he finally started chiming glasses with those around the table, to a chorus of ‘here-heres,’ except for Odesa, who was quickly now swallowing her bite of sweet potato as she chimed her glass with Kovari’s and Miramas’ beside her.
Finally, all began to eat in earnest, silverware going merrily from plate to mouth, chatter of friends and family filling the air over the table.
“So, Odesa,” Somarulan leaned past Kovari a bit to look at her and catch her eye, which he did as she was chewing again. She nodded, a wary feeling growing at the back of her mind, “You pick-pockets for a living?” He asked it bluntly, the emphasis on ‘pick-pockets’ disdainful.
Kovari, not expecting an attack on his fiancée over dinner, started to say, “Now see here,”
“I read her record,” Somarulan’s voice was sour, “and Lieutenant Morrow was right. You threw your career away for a criminal and I can’t stand it. I can barely sit here and be polite.”
Her heart beating fast, stress stinging in her veins, Odesa was taken aback.
Shylia across the table, flatly stated, “No sister of mine is a criminal. She may have made mistakes when she was younger, but she has reformed.”
“It’s all over town your other sister is with a human holed up somewhere!” Somarulan countered, “If that’s not criminal, and somehow pick-pocketing isn’t either, I don’t know what is.” The young elf was half way to pushing back his chair and stomping off, Odesa could tell.
“Wait,” she spoke up, stalling the angry elf. The rest of Kovari’s porteges looked horrified at their companion’s behavior, and Shylia looked ready to unsling her broadsword in defense of her family name and sisters. “WAIT. I was at one time practicing pick-pocketing. I did get caught, and I did most of the restitution required, and my sister Meshanka paid my fines. I now work as a scout for her guild, I make sure the way is clear and report back when our guild travels for its trades. Kovari is not at fault for anything, and my other sister Ellodie is partners with a human, yes. There’s a long story to that, and if we can stay friends. . .”
As she spoke, something (rotting wood? A chunk of old siege equipment? No. It was a smelly undead arm) came through the air and landed heavily in the midst of the platters on their table, and screams and running people filled pause in her speech.
“Wha. . ?” she started to ask, but all at once everyone with a weapon had drawn or readied it, and from behind her, from the west, came the unmistakable shamble and rumble of undead scourge. Odesa whipped around, her chair falling to the ground as she drew her daggers and turned to see what was coming to disrupt the meal now.
From edge to edge, the artful screen blocking the view of the dead scar with its staggering, random few undead, had been pushed down. It appeared that one of the undead officers happened to be resurrected by the ancient spells that would not be disbursed. It had managed to amass a whole platoon worth of limping undead soldiers, with enough presence of mind to go attack the Pilgrim’s Bounty guests. Odesa had counted at least forty zombie-like soldiers before she gave up trying to get a total. It couldn’t have been more than a hundred but it was more than enough to hurt or kill or infect those gathered for the celebration.
Odesa saw Miramas and Virasa start to wrangle civilians back to the gate, Rokenna with her bow was simply shooting into the mob taking down as many as she could from atop the table, her boot having kicked off the bird to make space for herself there.
Shylia was both charging at the oncoming enemy, and turning to see if anyone needed healing while Kovari and Somarulan drew short swords and were already knee-deep in undead soldiers.
“Go back in the walls,” Somarulan shouted at Odesa, somehow being contemptuous and dismissive at the same time, and shouted, “Coward!” at her general position as she cast her vanish spell and disappeared from sight.
“Stop your attack, sentry!” Kovari said, and he didn’t mean the one against the undead threatening to overrun them.
From where she was, a faint, “Humph,” could be heard.
It was broad daylight so she did cast a shadow, but the mindless undead did not see it. Ignoring Somarulan’s dislike of her as best she could, she worked her way from zombie to zombie, hacking off heads which was an effective way of getting the whole creature to stop its forward advance. Sometimes the bodies would twitch or flail underfoot but they could do little damage from the ground if the head was not firmly attached to guide the attack.
The civilians had been gotten safely back into Shepherd’s Gate, and Miramas and Virasa were guarding the entryway, more Silvermoon Sentries coming out to aid those who were fighting off the scourge in its unusual surge out of the dead scar. It seemed the end of the fighting was near, one of Rokenna’s arrows hit the commanding undead officer through the eye socket. This caused it to not be able to direct its troop any more. It still staggered forward, where Kovari and Somarulan were trying to reach in and cut its head off.
Over the past year, the length of time Odesa could hold her vanish spell had grown longer, breezing behind Somarulan and Kovari’s position, she got behind the commanding undead, and leaped up, grabbing its shoulders it staggered backward under her slight weight, its sword arm swinging up. Kovari was on the ground, having been tripped up with a wriggling undead soldier underfoot, and the undead officer, Odesa on its back, sword swinging wide, swooshed it towards Somarulan. The young man’s own sword was low, lodged in the leg of the officer, a few things happened at once. Odesa’s vanish spell wore off and dispelled as she sawed the head off the officer, and the officer’s sword arm dropped like a rock. The undead officer landed almost flat, Odesa stood, fist gripping the undead head, arrow sticking out of its eye socket, large dagger in her other hand.
Somarulan’s jaw dropped as he stood there weaponless. “You saved my life,” he gasped.
Throwing away the head and grabbing up the undead commander’s cloak to wipe her blade free of rotting gore, Odesa shot him a sardonic look.
“Of course I did.” She gave him a broad wink, “You were protecting Kovari, who I love more than anyone else.” She leaned down and offered a hand to Kovari who had managed to fight himself free of entanglements.
There were a few more undead staggering around, but sentries from within the city had taken over repelling the onslaught.
“Let’s go get cleaned up,” Shylia said, brushing off her book and picking it back up, “and maybe get dinner in town instead.”
Rokenna laughed, linking arms with the paladin as they headed towards Sheppard’s Gate, collecting Miramas and Virasa on their way back in.
Somarulan had an abashed look on his face, standing before Odesa and Kovari now.
“Hey, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know you, and I’d heard so many things. . .”
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Somarulan, and if you want to know what’s going on with me, just ask.” Kovari shook his head at his former protege.
~o0o~
Later that evening, after everyone had gotten cleaned up, and a more civilized meal had been had. Somarulan had been apologetic, and by the end of the meal the magic of Pilgrim’s Bounty had done its work, reuniting friends and family, renewing connections. Shylia had been happy to hear about Odesa and Kovari’s upcoming wedding, and suggested perhaps making it a double ceremony, since she and Rokenna had a long-standing engagement too.
Even later, under the stars, Odesa and Kovari were cuddled up together on one of the balconies of the Inn looking out over the Bazaar sharing a bottle of Sun-Touched Reserve.
“So where do we want to hold the wedding and the feast, Oddie?” Kovari asked her.
“That name is reserved for family, mainly just Lia calls me that. Maybe we do want to hold it at Lord Satheril’s,” she told him, chuckling so he’d know she wasn’t serious. “We could probably reserve space right in the Royal Exchange plaza. . . There are maybe two trees there. Not in Orgrimmar, nor Undercity though. We should be sure Rokenna and Lia like the location too. . .” she trailed off, Kovari was tracing the line of the muscles on her arm, leaving the bicep and curving under her breast, warm through the soft cotton shirt she wore.
Gamely trying to keep on topic she continued, “No, not Orgrimmar. . . Maybe in Suramar. . .” she mumbled, but Kovari had moved on to kissing her, and she had moved on to getting his shirt off, button by button, and they made their way back into their room, drawing the curtains behind them.