Celeste McCullough (Intro)

[Celeste]

((Bit of a disclaimer for the sake of transparency:

I am the player of Eowithiel. Some of you old-school Cats will remember the night elf who played the role of Advisor for the guild, just about ten years ago.

Eowithiel "retired" and left the Cats. That caused no small amount of waves and broken hearts on both sides.

See

for a very poignant video that Kat made about Eow leaving. Still gives me goosebumps.

Kat and I patched things up years ago. After contacting me a few months ago, she graciously nudged me (I think she used a cudgel at one point) to hop back in, if I was so inclined.

So here I am. Thank you Kat for your confidence in me and for your invaluable friendship.

My new character, Celeste McCullough, was actually one of two children Eow adopted when she retired. As it stood, she couldn't ever have children with her human lover, Isral McCullough. So adoption was the way they chose to have a family. Celeste and her twin brother were twelve at the time. Thanks to the passing of RL time, I can actually play the child of one of my characters without having to resort to whacky time-warping or quick aging scenarios (yikes, I feel old!). I admit this is a prospect I never thought I'd get to try and it's great to have the opportunity.

Here's the first part of Celeste's introduction into the world. This first part actually focuses on Eow for reasons that will become clear. That's an important aspect because Eow's situation should, in turn, explain why Celeste is pushed in the Cat's direction. You'll read some things that will seem unclear. Specifically about when Eow retired and what happened to her husband. This is on purpose as Celeste's knowledge of the time is hazy at best and she doesn't have all the facts. This is Celeste's life, her truths as she saw them.

I haven't written anything in years so please forgive any clumsy word play.))

    Celeste McCullough hopped off the wagon bed as it slowed down, waving a thank you to Mr Whalby. The old cooper had been lived next door for as long as she could remember. He gave her a warm smile and turned his wagon into the narrow alley that separated his shop from her mother’s. Though she was glad to finally get off, legs and butt sore after sitting uncomfortably on piles of wood and iron for the better part of an hour, she was in no hurry to get inside.

Disappointment tainted her apprehensive thoughts. Visiting her mother almost always tested her patience. She was never certain about the state she would find her in, or the place that she had once called home.

The young woman glanced up at the sign barely hanging by a single rusted chain near the front door. The other one had fallen apart a few months back and had never been replaced. The sign hung at an angle, forlorn and forgotten. A gentle breeze made it spin slowly. The creaking of the chain seemed like a gasping death rattle to her, begging to be put out of its misery. The letters identifying the wineshop were faded and barely legible. The image of a black cat wearing a jester's hat mostly washed away by rain and time. Not that anyone actually came calling anymore, anyways.

The Cat and the Jester had stopped being home years ago.

Celeste straightened her uniform and checked her reflection in the grimy glass of the front door. Her clothes were ill-fitting. One size too large, it hung off her frame awkwardly. Celeste wasn’t very large, even if her muscles were toned through hours of training while wearing armor and swinging heavy weapons. The uniform made her appear frail, even hiding her female curves almost entirely. Try as she might, there was little she could do to improve her appearance. She would have liked to show her mother her new uniform, assuming she was in a state to actually recognize her. After all, she was proud of her uniform, of what she had achieved.

The uniform given to every army recruit wasn’t made for style though. It served a basic function: identifying you so your comrades would know not to stick a blade in your ribs in battle. Not that her fellow soldiers wouldn’t relish the chance to do just that. If she was all but invisible at home, she was exceedingly well known in the recruits’ barracks. No one called her Celeste or Lessye, the nickname her brother had given her, anymore. Now it was always some form of the word “traitor” spat at her whenever she was within earshot.

That would change as soon as she got her posting orders. No one would care about her and why her fellow recruits hated her in the ass-end of nowhere. Hopefully.

Celeste tucked the short strands of her strawberry blond hair behind her ears. It didn’t help that she looked even younger than she really was. Her innocent looking light brown eyes were often open wide in wonder. Her small button of a nose was covered in a dusting of freckles that reached the dimples in her cheeks. She had small pink lips instead of the full ones a lot of women had. It made people think she was still in her mid-teens instead of the twenty two years she had lived through. People rarely took her seriously. The army recruiter had even laughed in her face when she signed up several months ago.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside the shop. In the beginning, the place had been a large inn. Her mother had bought the place, converted the upstairs room into a home for her family and turned the main floor into a place where customers could try rare and delicious wines from all around the world. She still remembered her mother’s musical laughter and charming smile as she passionately extolled the virtues of the wines she had personally collected for her customers in her travels. As a child she had enjoyed sitting in an out-of-the-way corner while she watched people coming and going into the shop, wondering who they were, what their lives were like. She had been entranced by tales of adventure her mother told. The friends she remembered fondly. Eowithiel had been a creature of grace and dignity. She had irradiated a kind of warmth that made just about everyone feel at ease with her almost automatically.

That had been when she still had hopes of Father coming home. When she still snuck out at night every so often, certain her children were fast asleep, to steal a few moments with him. Celeste knew Isral McCullough had had other commitments, duties that were wholly incompatible with the family life he and her mother hoped to one day live. She had been too young at the time to comprehend just how dangerous their clandestine trysts actually were.

Father’s death had sealed her mother’s fate. And her family’s. She wasn’t fully aware of all the facts but she knew that some of her mother’s former friends resented her leaving them. Something she had promised never to do. Her father had chosen to remain true to some sort of similar vow and had stayed behind. That is, until he was caught breaking those vows. Even now, several years later, Celeste knew only bits and pieces. She couldn’t fathom why people would be killed for wanting to change their lives but on the other hand, breaking your word was a crime Celeste just could not bring herself to do. Maybe she just lacked the proper temptations.

Afterwards, the shop was forgotten. At first people still came around, offering sympathy and help. The old dwarf that lived with them did his best to keep up but he was no salesman. Eventually the clients stopped coming. Celeste’s brother, Tomlin, joined the army and finally she was the only one left to take care of their fading mother.

Celeste spared only a glance at the dusty floor, cobwebbed wine racks and broken glasses. Seeing the place in such disrepair broke her heart every time. Looking into the gloom of the upstairs balcony where the private rooms were, she headed up.

“Mother!” She called out, hoping to receive an answer but getting none. The door to her mother’s room was partially ajar. It was very dark inside despite it being only midday. Pushing open the door slowly, Celeste stepped inside. Wrinkling her nose against the strong, heady, intoxicating scent of purple lotus, she quickly moved to open a window. The sound of crunching glass made her pause. With the door opened, a bit of light filtered into the room, allowing her to take in her surroundings.

Nearby, at the foot of the bed, her mother’s companion slept soundly. As a child she had often played with the sprite darter hatchling. She reached down to caress its fragile wings. The creature lifted its head and yawned a greeting at her before returning to its slumber on the soft covers.

Her mother’s pride and joy, an expensive array of alchemical apparatus, burners and phials lay scattered on the floor. The workbench that had once held the items was stained and filthy. A thick, dark sludge remained on the bottom of a broken boiling flask resting on an unlit burner. Celeste gently touched the mixture with the tips of her fingers, bringing them to her nose. The scent of purple lotus assaulted her nostrils and she quickly wiped the substance off of her fingers with the edge of her uniform. Her mother had given her lessons in alchemy in the past. Frowning, she tried to remember what purple lotus was used for.

With a growing sense of unease she turned around. She could see her mother’s form, lying in her bed, features hidden by the covers. She quickly circled the bed and crouched down, gazing at her mother.

Eowithiel’s long white hair looked disheveled and frayed. It fanned out over her pillow and partially obscured her features. Her almond eyes were half-opened yet unseeing. Where once they had glowed a pale white, they seemed to have lost their shine. Their color more akin to rainclouds or dense fog now. Her skin was a pale purple, and her features seemed almost gaunt. Looking down, Celeste pulled a potion vial from her mother’s limp hand. She sniffed the now empty contained, detecting the sickly sweet odor of what she had suspected her mother had concocted. Dreamless Sleep potions could be useful to rest a body and even cure a few specific ailments. Judging by her mother’s state, she suspected that she had been taking them regularly and in large doses. There was no way to know when she would wake up. Maybe she never would. Celeste wondered if that had not been the goal after all.

Placing the empty vial gently on the floor, Celeste dropped down next to her mother and put her head in her hands. She understood why she hadn’t shown up for her graduation ceremony earlier in the week. Why she had stopped receiving letters of encouragement. Granted in the end they were short and often just copies of previous ones but she had still treasured them.
Trying her best to hold back her tears and failing, Celeste told her adoptive mother the news she had come home to give.

“They are sending Tomlin to the Stockades and… I’m going to receive my orders tomorrow. I might get shipped to the front. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back.”

Next to her Eowithiel remained silent and oblivious.

[Celeste]

((Right and wrong are sometimes only a question of perspective. I’m not very fond of black and white scenarios. Most of the time things are more complex.



In part two of Celeste’s introduction, we learn a bit more about her values and her flaws. Like right and wrong, depending on where you stand, such things are not always clearly defined in either of those categories. Thank you for reading.))


“Well if it isn’t my traitorous sister!” Tomlin’s sneer twisted his face and gave his handsome features a devilish cast.

Celeste hugged herself and averted his eyes. The gesture was equally to help warm her up and to bolster her almost nonexistent confidence. The small prison cell which had been given to her in order to meet her brother was drafty and cold. A dead rat was decomposing in a corner, half buried by moldy straw. A small window, barely bigger than her hand, let a thin stream of milky moonlight through along with the stench of canal sewage. Celeste wished the guards and their torch would stand closer to the barred door shut behind her. It would at least provide some warmth if not more light. But perhaps it was better this way. She had no wish to see how the last weeks in a military prison had treated her brother. The pale light gave her enough to know it wasn’t good. His once muscled physique look emaciated. He was taller than her but his permanent hunch brought him to eye level. The Stockades weren’t known for their comfort. He would degrade further here if he couldn’t find some allies to help him.

And she was the one that put Tomlin there.

Her brother shuffled forward. Shackles kept his ankles chained only a few inches from each other. It gave him an awkward, shuffling gait. He stopped close enough for her to detect the horrible smell of his unwashed body. “Look at me!” He screamed at her, making her flinch. Outside one of the guards shuffled but made no move to open the door and step in to provide her aid.

“I deserve that much.” He added softly.

Finally Celeste looked up directly into his eyes. “You gave me no choice!” She hissed at him, hands spread to either side of her. This was a familiar scenario. Tomlin would get into trouble and find some way to blame his sister. She hadn’t kept an eye out for trouble or she told someone about his misdeeds. Even when she wasn’t even there when the crime was committed, he found a way to blame her. Celeste would endure until she’d had enough and fought back. “There’s a war going on and you were stealing supplies meant for the front. Profiteering while people are out there dying?” She took a step back and offered him her own look of disgust. “I would have expected that from you during more peaceful times but this time you went too far.” She raised her chin, daring him to argue the point.

She had stumbled on him loading crates of weapons onto a cart late one night, shady men waiting to drive the cart away. She had had a long day of training and had come in search of her brother to share a drink. Instead, she had watched from the shadows as he accepted payment for the weapons. Celeste had told the nearest provost immediately, not even giving her brother a chance to try to concoct an explanation for her to pretend to believe.

Tomlin shook his head and stepped back. “Why are you here?” He asked, matter-of-fact as if they were discussing the weather. Sometimes Tomlin reminded her of their aunt Syf. Isral’s sister was eccentric at best, outright crazy most of the time. She often switched from hot to cold in the blink of an eye. They hadn’t seen her in years.

“I’m getting my orders today.” She said and took a deep breath before continuing. “I wanted to say goodbye. I don’t know where they will send me, certainly not to work with the Quartermaster’s office. I think they had enough of one McCullough without trusting another.” Celeste sighed and passed a hand through her short hair, trying to hide the fact that it was shaking.

Joining the army had been Tomlin’s idea. He had lied about his age and got in several years ago. Celeste had stayed home to take care of their adopted mother but as the years went by, she missed her brother too much. Tomlin had convinced her to sign up. At the time, it seemed a great idea. Earn some coin, find camaraderie and something to belong to. While the idea of having a cause to believe in sounded wonderful to her, she wasn’t sure this war was her calling.

Still, the idea of working with her brother was too good to pass up and she had signed her life away like so many bright-eyed young men and women. From the reports coming from the war, a lot of her fellow recruits had been shipped off immediately after completing basic training only to be killed in the churning maelstrom of battle. She was very much afraid to die but all she had left was her word. Her brother may have thrown his honor away for the promise of easy profits but she was determined not to waver. She shook her head, thinking how suicidal that sounded.

Tomlin moved closer again and gently placed his hands on her arms. “Lessye, you can’t go to the front. You won’t last a day.” He said with obvious concern.

Celeste looked into his eyes, mirrors of her own and nodded, agreeing with him with his statement but powerless to do anything about it. “It’s not for me to decide, Tom. I signed the oath, just as you did.” She replied softly, her voice shaking.

Her brother’s features became angry again. He shook her, not out of a need for violence, but as a brother who had no other recourse with which to save his sister. “Celeste, don’t do this. Forget your silly honor and save yourself!” Desperation was laced in his voice. “What about mother?” He asked, grasping at straws now. They both knew their mother would be of no use to either of them. Celeste shrugged. “Mother will have to take care of herself now.” She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she wasn’t even sure if Eowithiel had survived the night.

Celeste extricated her arms from his grasp, stood on tiptoe and kissed her brother’s filthy cheek. “Goodbye, Tomlin. I forgive you, for forcing me to put you here. Maybe, by the time I get back from the war, I will have forgiven myself for the very same thing. Guards!” Celeste wiped tears from her eyes as she turned her back on her brother. Tomlin clutched weakly at her arm, for once unable to find the words to convince his sister.

Celeste could still hear her brother’s anguished screams, calling out her name, as she stepped out of the prison and lost herself in the morning traffic following the canal.

[۞ KAT ۞ AKA Red Viper]

((wow... brilliantly written! ))

[Celeste]

((The third and final part of Celeste’s “introduction” of sorts. The previous parts mostly dealt with her present situation and where she comes from. They were likely not very thought-provoking reading unless you keenly remember Eowithiel and her family from ten years ago.

This part focuses solely on Celeste and, like any story, is the part where her life takes a sudden turn. I suspect it will influence her behavior from here on out.

Going back to those values I mentioned at the start of the second part, you may have guessed that a lot of the defining moments in rping Celeste will resolve around that theme. We often hear about having strong values and sticking to them: that this defines us. This person is honorable, this person is generous and kind, this person is forgiving or this one puts his family first.

Ratting out her brother because she strongly believed what he was doing was selfish and even dangerous is one thing. Eventually Tomlin will serve his sentence and be allowed to live his life freely again. Beyond a few months in the Stockades, no one will suffer. She didn’t like having to do it but still believed it was the right choice. While it wasn’t easy for her to do, believing it was the right decision makes it easier. But what happens if she follows her values, even if it’s not the right choice? If she really hates herself for it and people end up suffering from that decision, forever?

In this final part of her introduction, cracks will start to appear in Celeste’s moral foundations, forcing her to adapt to those changes.

This part is split into two posts so as not to assault anyone with a wall of text. I took some liberty with the lore, creating a division in the army that doesn’t really appear anywhere though I am certain would exist, had the game’s writers possessed the interest to do so. In real-life armies all over the world and through history, this fictitious division or department has and does exist.))


The sound of boots clomping in unison always made Celeste smile. It made her feel safer, stronger. She suspected that was exactly why the sergeants trained every recruit to step at the same time as everyone else while marching in a column. You’re not alone the sound seemed to say. You have friends with you. She watched a group of recruits march by in a double row formation, hounded by a training sergeant who walked stiffly next to them, barking at anyone who so much as thought about wavering from the perfectly aligned formation.

The soldiers reminded her that her new posting would mean getting a unit of her own. It meant new people to learn to work and fight with. People formed tight bonds when they faced death together. At least that’s what she heard.

Hopefully no one from this training camp would be posted at the same place she was going. Reporting her brother had backfired spectacularly. Apparently a lot of people either profited from or were somehow bound to the operation. His incarceration apparently made a lot of people unhappy. Furthermore, instead of being praised for her honesty, she was often the target of insults and slander yelled at her across the training grounds or whispered as she passed by in the barracks. No one liked someone who tattled on their fellow soldiers. She hadn’t thought about it before acting. It broke their trust in her, some unspoken rule and apparently everyone picked up on it.

Celeste stood in an at ease position outside the company’s knight-captain’s office. Next to her, a window provided a view of the training grounds and allowed some of the early morning sunshine to brighten up the room. Everyone in her cohort had already gone in to see the camp’s commanding officer, sometimes in groups of twos and threes or even more. She wasn’t sure why she was being kept last but it didn’t bother her all that much. She wasn’t the strongest or fastest soldier. She knew her aim with a rifle was a bit above average but nothing to write home about. The sergeants had complimented her on her discipline many times and she had fared better than most at learning the basic wilderness survival skills taught to every recruit. She had her mother to thank for that last part, at least. Whatever reason for her being kept waiting, she firmly believed it wasn’t because they didn’t know what to do with her. A pleasant fantasy entered her mind about being sent to SI:7 or maybe with one of the self-reliant scouting units who hounded the enemy and determined where best to attack. She imagined being sent with a handful of well trusted teammates to sabotage war machines or ambush supply convoys.

The door to the knight-captain’s office opened and disgorged three soldiers who had broad smiles on their faces as they clapped each other on the shoulders. She heard them mention the Arathi Highlands. Celeste wasn’t sure if she admired their zeal in being posted directly to the front or thought them foolish to be so happy to be sent to their deaths.

“McCullough!”

Celeste banished her thoughts and promptly strode into the knight-captain’s office, standing at attention in front of his desk. Back straight and shoulders out, she stared at a spot just over the officer’s head and awaited her fate.

The captain’s blue eyes looked at Celeste from beneath thick, bushy grey eyebrows. He picked up a small piece of paper on which orders were usually written and handed it to her. “Provost marshals.” He said, tersely. “Report to the knight-lieutenant Wright as soon as possible. You’ll find her at army headquarters. Dismissed.” The officer lowered his gaze and returned to work. However he soon realized that the recruit in front of him had barely moved a muscle.

“Something wrong with your orders, private?” The knight-captain asked, annoyance seeping into his tone as he once again fixed his frigid stare on Celeste.

“Sir… I… the provosts? I’m not sent to fight in the war?” Celeste’s dreams of glory evaporated, replaced by a bleak ghost of what it once was. The provosts, as those charged with convicting soldiers who broke the army’s laws, were hated by every soldier that had the misfortune to have to deal with them. They were ruthless and usually showed neither empathy nor understanding in the execution of their duties. This was not the career Celeste had envisioned when Tomlin had urged her to sign up with fanciful stories of heroes and glorious deeds. She thought about her brother currently in jail and the irony of her new orders suddenly made very clear sense.

“This is about my brother, isn’t it?” Celeste blurted out. “No one wants a snitch in their unit so I’m being punished for doing the right thing?” Her tone was angry and far too liberal for addressing a knight-captain.

Her commanding officer rose from his seat, fisted his hands and leaned on them over his desk. “I don’t have to explain my orders to you, private, but in this case I will make an exception.” Though his posture was somewhat threatening, his tone softened noticeably. “Your evaluation scores show that you can work alone as well as in groups. You’re self-reliant and tend to persevere when faced with adversity rather than to run away from it. While that might make you a good soldier who I’m quite certain any officer would very much like to have, in this case it’s your integrity that singled you out for the provosts. Not very many soldiers would report a comrade and even less so when that comrade is a blood relation. So yes, for that, you are being transferred to the office of the provost marshal. You’re not being punished for doing the right thing. The army has need of provosts just like it needs soldiers. As it happens, it’s been decided that you will work with the former.”

The knight-captain sat down again and offered her a grin that was not reassuring. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance to fight. Just not the enemy. DISMISSED!”

[Celeste]

((part 3 continued.))


Knight-lieutenant Wright, as it turns out, was only a few years older than her. Possessing a strict no-nonsense attitude, intolerance for any sort of misconduct and the personality of a dead fish, her new superior officer had only served to increase Celeste’s misery. The knight-lieutenant had promoted her to corporal “to ensure the common soldier would heed her words” and given her a pass to move around freely while on duty. From now on, she would hunt down deserters and bring them back to be court-martialled. Most of them would be hanged. Lieutenant Wright had told her as much, smiling like the butcher’s dog all the while.

Her first case was a sergeant Glennor of the Westfall Brigade who had walked away from camp one evening, taking a handful of soldiers with him and convincing or bribing the rest to look away. The soldiers had all been found but the sergeant remained at large. A test, the lieutenant had said. The Westfall Brigade was stationed near the land it was named after. Its ranks were filled by locals; the idea was that they would fight that much harder if they were protecting their very homes. Lieutenant Wright suspected that the locals were working with the Brigade to hide the sergeant. So far, none of her fellow provosts had managed to find him. Since Celeste was new and looked “hardly old enough to even think of joining the army”, it was thought that she might be able to investigate without being identified in her official role.

So a few days later, Celeste found herself riding along a dusty road. She had purchased the horse with coins given to her as a discretionary fund in order to pay for information or any equipment she require for her task. In her undercover function, she had been allowed to ditch her uniform in favor of common clothes. Her badge and identification papers were tucked in an inside pocket of her vest. A dagger sheathed on her hip and an old fowling piece strapped to her back were her only other possessions. Celeste liked travelling light and at least this part of her new duties suited her fine.

The road bisected two fields filled with dried and pathetic looking crops. She had travelled once or twice to Westfall in her youth. In her memories, the fields were filled with thriving plants that gently swayed in the wind coming from the ocean. It was probably something her imagination made up considering the version of facts she was witnessing. Regardless, the sorry state of the farms she passed revealed a dreary reality. There were very few men out in the fields. The ones she saw were either very young or very old. Tasks usually left to them were being performed by tired looking women who more often than not had to watch over children at the same time. Signs of famine and hardships were obvious. Celeste kept her eyes to the road, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. No one here would help her in her task. The army had already taken all their able-bodied men and probably confiscated most of their crops for the war effort. As far as these people were concerned, she was more their enemy then the threat of armies that remained far away.

Celeste supposed the Night Elves had the same thought, before the Horde surprised them and burned Teldrassil.

She stopped near a disused, overturned cart, bleached almost white after years of lying in the rain and sun. Army records had one of the nearby farms noted as being the home of sergeant Glennor. The man had a wife who, at the time it had been recorded, was also expecting a child. That was over a year ago. Celeste suspected that the sergeant had returned home. No doubt his neighbors and comrades in the Westfall Brigade kept an eye out for provosts coming to apprehend him and passed along warnings to hide. Celeste had reached Sentinel Hill with a trade caravan, posing as a wine merchant looking for local vintage to bring back to her shop. The lie had been easy enough to sell, considering she actually lived in a wine shop. Though the local troops had inspected her papers with suspicion, they apparently did that with everyone. Celeste had been allowed to continue on her way without any noticeable delays.

Leaving her horse tied to the cart, she took a moment to get her bearings. She set out through a field towards a farmstead in the distance. Around the farmstead, the crops looked a little healthier. Clearly someone had the means or the time to care for the plants. They rose to just below her knees and Celeste was worried her approach would be noticed, as obvious as she was without cover. She passed a shabby looking scarecrow, patiently being torn apart bit by bit by a pair of crows. The birds were busy pulling pieces of straw from rents in its burlap body. They paused and peered at her as she passed but remained silent. As soon as she was out of reach, they resumed their destructive task. They seemed clearly insulted that anyone would think a mere scarecrow would protect the crops from them. Destroying the effigy was a statement. Celeste approved.

Nearing her target, she approached the small one-room building from the side where no windows had been constructed. The home’s wooden sidings were cracked and grey. Signs of termite and water damage betrayed the limited means of the family living here. Overhead, the roofing tiles had clearly been replaced recently. Celeste could see the difference just by the healthier color of the slats. Crouching near the corner closest to the back door, Celeste removed the long hunting rifle from her back and listened as she heard voices.

“…won’t be much longer. A little rain and things will be squared away.” A male voice said.

“Good” replied a woman. Then speaking in a playful tone as to a child: “Because this little monster is always hungry.” Celeste heard sounds of a baby giggling. “Speaking of water” The woman continued, likely addressing the male she heard before “You’ll need to replace the well’ bucket’s rope. It’s frayed and ready to break.”

“I’ll get on that right now then” the man replied and seconds later, the back door swung open on noisy hinges. A man stepped out. According to her description of sergeant Glennor, she had found her suspect. But just to be sure…

“Sergeant Glennor!” Celeste said in a loud, clear voice as she stepped from behind the corner. She had her rifle at an angle, not wishing to threaten him if he was the wrong guy.

The man whirled around to face her, shaggy blond hair waving with the motion. He looked like someone in his mid-thirties, as the file said. Brown eyes, the physique of a soldier, so far everything fit.

“Who are you?” The man asked, hands held to the side in a non-threatening way. “Why are you here?”

Celeste kept the rifle aimed at the ground but also a watchful eye on him. “Corporal McCullough, Provost.” She said, proud that her voice sounded confident and professional. “Are you Sergeant Glennor? This is where he lives, according to my information.”

The man’s eyes flashed to his right then back to Celeste. He took a step forward, lowering his arms slightly. “Come on, girl.” He said. “Put that big gun down” His tone was soothing. Celeste hated being called girl. Tomlin had always loved to patronize her with that word when he wanted to rile her up. It worked every time.

Celeste saw in her peripheral vision that a woman now stood in the back doorway, holding a child in her arms. She raised her weapon, pointing it directly at the man. “Stay where you are.” She ordered the both of them. She was sure that she had the right man. “Delek Grennor, you are under arrest for desertion and willfully inciting fellow soldiers to abandon their posts. You are also charged with abusing your rank and bribing military officials. If you come along peacefully, I will make sure to include it in my report.”  She wondered how she was going to fish out her badge while keeping the long rifle up and steady.

“You took all our menfolk, everything we had! Can’t you see this war is bleeding us dry? How are we supposed to survive? What good is winning a war if there’s no one left to reap the rewards?” The woman angrily hissed the words at her as she stepped out of the house, positioning herself between the gun and her husband.

“Ma’am, the situation is regrettable but I have my orders.” The situation is regrettable? Celeste could hardly believe she had said that, never mind the cold finality in her tone. She could plainly see that without the labor the men brought, most of the farms in the area will become barren. She moved the gun aside so as not to threaten the woman with it.

“Look, corporal” the man said, gently pushing his wife to the side and out of harm’s way. “I’m only here until the harvest is passed, just a few more weeks at most. I can see you’re a decent sort. I’ll turn myself in after that, I promise.”

Celeste looked into his eyes, could see the man’s sincerity. Her brother’s annoyingly roguish smile flashed into her mind. She raised her gun again. “That’s not for me to decide. You should have taken the matter to your superior. You still might have that chance after the court-martial.” She saw the man’s jaw tighten in anger. He would attack instead of let himself be taken in. She was sure of that.

“I can’t let you go. If you resist, I’m authorized to use deadly force.” She clenched her teeth as she said it, angry at herself and this situation. “Please, just come with me!” She pleaded. She wanted to be anywhere else right now. She could just leave, forget this horrible assignment. Say she couldn’t find him. Others had tried before and failed. They couldn’t expect her to do better on her first mission. Celeste hesitated. How could she do that though? Letting one man go while betraying her own brother? This man’s plight was likely similar to hundreds of soldiers. The vast majority stayed at their post. Why should this man get to choose when and where he fulfilled his duties?

Sergeant Grennor must have seen her resolve hardening. Though he was several yards away, he suddenly lunged in Celeste’s direction, arm moving in a desperate attempt to sweep aside her gun.

The two crows, startled by the loud noise of a gunshot, screeched in annoyance, flapped their wings and took off into the darkening sky.

[Celeste]

((Epilogue))



Celeste's return trip to Stormwind wasn't a blur, or hazy. In fact she remembered every single second of it from the moment that gunshot went off.

She remembered the anguished wails of the sergeant's wife, who collapsed to her knees, eyes riveted on her husband's lifeless body.

She remembered how the man's eyes seemed to stare into her very soul as she held him after his doomed charged made him stumble into her arms.

She remembered the smell of blood, so much blood as it seeped into her clothes.

She remembered the looks of hatred the men of the Westfall Brigade had tossed her way, when she presented herself to the garrison with the sergeant's body strapped to her horse.

She remembered the wide, satisfied smile of Knight-lieutenant Wright when she had reported that her mission had been completed.

But mostly, she remembered that she had killed a man for the first time. A good man who had been trying to protect his family in an impossible situation. As he had started charging at her, she had carefully, calmly, aimed and put a bullet in his heart. No hesitation. To her confusion and secret horror, she remembered having no regrets.