Azeroth's Skies

by TerrabreakerX

The City of Mages

Twilight couldn’t sleep.

Two days had passed since the group had arrived in Dalaran. Two days since they had stumbled through a Kirin Tor mage’s portal, out of the icy wastes they had spent more than a month trekking through, and into a place of calm and safety - or as safe as anyone could be, mere miles from the Lich King’s citadel. The spire of Icecrown jutted into the sky, an ever-present reminder of the grim threat they faced - yet somehow it felt distant, an abstract concern, as much as it felt like a close one.

Upon their arrival, they had followed the mage through the cobbled streets to meet a representative of the Alliance in part of the city known as the Silver Enclave. It had been mid-morning, and the city had been bustling with the sounds of trade, commerce, and general activity. The group had taken little notice of their surroundings on this short walk, still disoriented as they were by their time in the cave; the abruptness of their rescue and trying to make sense of what had happened to them.

Reaching the enclaves, they had met an Alliance captain there - a gruff, dwarven fellow with a bushy grey beard. Shuffling through his papers to find their records, he had taken Azuresteel’s letter from them; asked a few questions and made a few notes, then confirmed their entitlement to three weeks of leave, to rest and relax before their next assignment. He had then taken a good, long look at them, noting their dishevelment and the condition of their equipment, and had granted them an additional week.

Seeing how desperate they all were for the opportunity to recuperate, he had postponed giving an official tour of the city, but had asked them to report back to him or his staff at the next opportunity, so that he could properly brief them on their stay. They were allotted guest quarters in the Enclave, which had once been part of Dalaran’s residential district before the Silver Covenant had moved in - or so the captain had explained, as he had walked with them up the stairs.

One by one, the girls had entered their respective rooms with a restive “good night”; had dropped their equipment to the floor, and had passed out on their beds, surrendering at last to slumber without even making the effort to get changed. From months of sleeping on a juddering boat to staying at a keep constantly under attack, to camping out under the stars, they owed their bodies a debt of sleep measured in days - and it was finally time for them to square that account.

They slept long into the next evening, thoughts of lost time and confused remembrance slipping away. Emerging, at last refreshed and renewed... there lay a new problem - that of trying to re-adjust to the hours that the rest of the world lived by.

And so, two days after their return to civilisation - to perhaps the only place of comfort and peace on the entire continent - Twilight still couldn’t sleep.

Sighing in frustration, she got up from the bed, rubbing tired eyes, and made her way over to the nearby dresser. Though they were permitted to keep and carry their weapons and armour through the city, their equipment was ill-suited for casual rest, designed for functionality, not comfort. As such, they received from their hosts a few sets of clothes for the duration of their stay - plain shirts and trousers, robes for more indoor lounging, and thicker sweaters for the colder weather.

She opened the dresser and selected a sweater, pulling it over her head. As she rearranged her hair away from the sweater so that it fell below her shoulders, she caught sight of herself in the mirror atop the dresser and paused to note her appearance, spotting the deep shadows under her eyes.

Sighing again, she turned and made her way out of the room. She ignored the stairs that led back down to the Silver Enclave’s entrance hall and proceeded to the room at the very end of the hall. They had quickly discovered this not to be a bedroom like all the others, but a common room of sorts - a place with comfier chairs and the space to take refreshment.

Opening the door, she was unsurprised to find Fluttershy and Rarity already sitting inside.

“...I couldn’t sleep,” she said, somewhat lamely, as they looked up at her entrance, bearing eyes as tired as Twilight's own. “Again.”

“Neither could we, darling,” Rarity replied, and gestured to the empty seat to her left, then to an engraved teapot on the table beside them. “Please, join us - and might I suggest a cup of tea?”

Twilight smiled wearily and made her way over to join her friends. They had the window open, and a gentle breeze was blowing in. Positioned where it was, and floating in the sky no less, Dalaran should have been an icebox to live in - but the Kirin Tor’s subtle magic regulated the temperature throughout the city and kept it much more reasonable, in just the same way as it maintained the lamps in the street, and all other kinds of services running. Indeed, Twilight had found it almost unpleasantly warm at first, after months in the snow and the ice, but that feeling was diminishing with each passing day.

She poured herself a cup from the teapot and sank into the comfortable chair, sipping her drink thoughtfully.

“I’m starting to think we should push through the next day; go to bed early tomorrow evening and reset ourselves.” Completing myriad other tasks to occupy themselves, each of the friends had stayed up all night before, unable to sleep... and had then crashed through the entire day, only again to be confronted with the very same problem. “Otherwise we’ll be stuck in this cycle...”

“I would not object," Rarity said. "I thought to take a walk last night and encountered closed doors and shuttered windows. The city was pretty enough, but I would like something to do with my time."

Dalaran was not, for the most part, a city that operated twenty-four hours a day. Like Canterlot or Stormwind, there were few establishments or services that catered to travellers who walked the night. The odd inn or all-night eatery existed, but these were few and far between.

Fluttershy nodded in agreement.

"It's settled then," Twilight said.

She was about to offer to walk down to the inn to rustle up some snacks, when the door swung open again, revealing Applejack, Pinkie, and Rainbow. The former was laden down with a tray of delicious-looking sweets and fruit drinks - as if she had somehow read Twilight's mind.

Rainbow awkwardly rubbed the back of her head with one hand. "We, uh, couldn't sleep," she said.

"So me and Applejack got to baking!" Pinkie chimed in.

"Kitchen's pretty good," Applejack added.

"Thanks, girls," Twilight chuckled, and beckoned them in, reaching forward to take a pastry as Applejack placed the tray down on the table. "Looks like we're all in for the long haul. Pull up a chair."

There were worse places to be than here, in the company of good friends.

---

They pushed through the next day, making a start on exploring the city in the morning, getting an early night after dinner, and then - mercifully - their sleep schedules returned to normal. Greeting the following dawn with renewed vigour, and no longer burdened by wakefulness at abnormal hours of the day - or night, as the case might have been - the group took the opportunity to explore the city. It was, from their perspective, effectively divided into four areas, and of these they were restricted to two.

One such restriction was placed on them - the dwarf captain had made it very, very clear that the Sunreaver’s Sanctuary on the other side of town was strictly out of bounds. It functioned as the equivalent of the Silver Enclave for those members of the Horde visiting or passing through, after Dalaran’s opening, at the start of the war, to all who stood who stood against the Lich King. The recent events at the Wrathgate had strained relations between members of the two factions even here, but things had fortunately not turned to open hostilities as they reportedly had elsewhere, and everyone in the city - not least their Kirin Tor hosts - seemed keen on keeping it that way.

The other restriction was self-imposed - they all agreed to stay far away from the sewers. Known colloquially as the “Underbelly”, they were renowned as a place of dark dealings; vicious combat for honour and sport, and other illicit activity which the peacekeepers would not tolerate above the surface. There was nothing to be gained from going below - especially when the city had so much more to offer out of the darkness.

They spent most of their first few days in the Silver Enclave, taking the time to recuperate fully and readjusting their sleeping patterns in line with a more regular rhythm. Besides rooms for travellers and those granted time away like themselves, it featured several kitchens, an inn, an area that Alliance commanders had designated as a strategium, and a small room with portals connected to each Alliance capital.

They were not permitted to take the one that led back to Stormwind, but found this to be no great restriction. Although they missed the Alliance capital and the friends they had made, they had many things to explore in this new city. At first, they took their meals in the Enclave’s inn or the common room on their floor, but soon expanded their tastes to other establishments - as a consequence of serving as a hub for both major factions, and others, Dalaran had a much greater variety of fare to sample.

Though sating their stomachs was the first thing to lure them into the city proper, they were quick to find other fulfilling ways to pass the time.

---

“Sorry!” She heard Rainbow’s voice before she saw her. Her friend appeared down the street to her left, darting through a thick crowd of visitors and Dalaran natives in their distinctive robes, and hastened to her side. “I’m sorry I’m so late! Things kinda got away from me today—“

“It’s okay.” She wasn’t sure if the extra wait had made her feel better or worse, but she wasn’t about to hold it against Rainbow - not when her friend had been so kind as to agree to accompany her at all. “Honestly, it’s fine,” she assured her. “I’m just glad you’re here, now.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” her friend affirmed. Are you ready?

Fluttershy took a deep, slow breath. Then another. Yes. I’m ready.

Yes. I can do this. I need to do this.

She carefully negotiated the crowd to make it across the street, then approached the shop, Rainbow following in her wake just a short distance behind. From the outside, it looked barely any different to the other establishments that traded in the city, and presented a rather unassuming front - a solid wooden door, surrounded by a grey stone arch and grey stone walls. It was flanked on the street by two tall, evergreen trees and a lamppost that, for now, was unlit - but come the night would shine brilliantly, no doubt. A bronze sign hung from a pole that jutted out from the stone, and on that sign was embossed the symbol of a rabbit.

Gently, she pulled open the door with a shaking hand. She heard a bell tinkle above her head, announcing her entrance to those inside, and an innumerable array of familiar smells and sounds bombarded immediately after her. She lingered on the threshold for a moment, savouring them and brushing drops of rain from her shoulders, then stepped inside as Rainbow joined her.

The room they ventured into felt crowded, with an unexpectedly low ceiling. Sets of aisles stretched back some way out of their sight, their shelves packed with crates, cages and enclosures. Very little light was able to make its way in through the small windows, but lamps provided sufficient illumination to solve this problem, casting the store into a gentle, cosy glow.

A gnome with braided white hair appeared from within the aisles, summoned by the bell above the door. “Welcome to the Magical Menagerie!” she greeted them cheerfully. “I’m Breanni, the owner of this establishment. Anything I can do to help you today?”

Fluttershy swallowed. “I understand that you’re looking for someone to volunteer...”

The gnome’s face lit up with a bright smile. “Why, yes, we are!” she said. “Have you had much experience working with animals before?”

“...yes,” she replied. “You could say that.”

---

Rarity had only intended to browse.

That was all. Nothing more. She'd spotted the sign while walking through the Magus Commerce Exchange - Dalaran's equivalent of Stormwind's Trade District. The oversized needle, cloth, and purple thread had caught her eye from afar, and she couldn't help but look through the window. Couldn't then help but step through the door, into a familiar world of textiles, robes, and linen.

Her initial reaction had been that their goods were less than impressive, the designs basic and utilitarian, lacking variety and her preferred level of ostentation. She supposed immediately that she couldn't blame them for this, what with the war going on, but the wares seemed to lack even the vibrancy that she had assumed was typical of the magocracy, with its apparent appreciation for violet and gold.

But - just as she had turned to leave - she had spotted something that had intrigued her.

Only the very front of Talismanic Textiles was given over to the sale of goods. It was open past the counter to the workroom at the back, and she had been able to see the tailors engaging in their craft. She had watched cloth being spun through looms, watched needles pierce thread, and seen clothing take form and shape in expert hands. And, most notably, she had seen garments she would have judged as finished handed over to an enchanter, who had fortified them with just the slightest touch of magic.

She'd known, from seeing Twilight's issued equipment, that it was possible in this world to imbue thread and fabric with magical properties, but had never seen it done before. What little time she had had to spare on her passion in Stormwind had mostly been relegated to theory and design, and less so the actual crafting of garments that she had equally enjoyed back home, and the extra touch of finesse she had once employed with gems, and with a little magic of her own.

Seeing all of this, she had realised just how much she missed the process of design, of creation, and of exceptional craftsmanship conducted by those with many thousands of hours of blood, sweat, and tears in their work. She'd only intended to browse... but, her curiosity having been piqued, she'd engaged one of the sales assistants in conversation and enquired as to the possibility of her studying for a time within their establishment.

They had been reluctant to take her on at first - the shop was busy, and more hands would be useful to an extent, but they had little capacity to train someone new, especially when she would only likely be with them for a couple of weeks at most. She also came to them with no credentials or references, having had only the shortest time in Stormwind to make plans for an exhibition of her work before they had been despatched to the frozen wastes.

She had persisted, explaining that she wouldn't require payment - only the chance to work, to learn, and to prove the value of her experience through her actions, rather than her words. After some convincing, they had accepted, allowing her to observe, and to assist with some of the more menial, but necessary, tasks that came with running such an establishment - tasks that she was already intimately familiar with.

And what an opportunity it had been! Before the end of the first day, she had been able to sit down with the shop's master tailor, Charles Worth, listening raptly as he explained the challenges of this heavier northern cloth in contrast to linen, wool or some of the rarer varieties that could be found in the Eastern Kingdoms. By the end of the second, she'd assisted with no fewer than five projects, enjoying every second of her work with every piece of material she could get her hands on.

"We were getting swamped with orders, honestly, and I don't know how we would have coped if you hadn’t been here," one of the staff told her at the end of her third day. "This is very generous of you."

Rarity only smiled.

---

Twilight's destination in the city - the place to pursue her chosen pastime - had never been in doubt. Not for her, or for her unsurprised friends.

The library.

The only question became - which one?

As a magocracy, priding itself on the pursuit, collection, and understanding of knowledge, Dalaran had many libraries. There were simply too many books to be held in one place, even with the use of dimensional vaults and other such magical storage. Some of them, she suspected, were secret, and hidden - the information held within simply too dangerous to be left unguarded and unchecked. She hoped that what she sought would not be counted within their number.

She'd sought guidance from Dalaran's visitor centre, a small building towards the north of the city, not far from a landing pad primarily used by gryphons, wyverns, hippogryphs, and mechanical aircraft. Having relayed the nature of the information she was looking for, she waited as patiently as she could bear while the staff wrote out directions, and practically skipped as she left the building to follow them.

She found herself standing before an unassuming brick building on a street unremarkable by the standard of the rest of the city and pushed open the front doors with barely contained excitement. Unlike the library in Stormwind, where she had needed to receive an endorsement from a learned, senior mage before she could enter, these halls were open to anyone - everyone - who wished to pursue higher knowledge in the pages of the books it contained. This is the way it should be, she mused as she crossed the threshold for the first time, basking in the smell of ink and old parchment, and the soft scratching of quills.

Hurrying to their section on portal magics, she once again turned her attention once more to the task of paving their way home.

She pored over treatises containing spellcraft that baffled, and sometimes even amused her; leafed through journals that heaved with the weight of decades, and coughed over books overflowing with the dust of centuries. Magic in Dalaran was the very lifeblood of the city, a source of inspiration as much as it was a source of power, a tool for the mundane far more than it was for waging war, and she found those fundamentals woven throughout every book she hungrily devoured.

Days passed, and she found little practical success in these studies. Most of what she read comprised outlandish theories or fruitless speculation by those who were capable of writing, but were not always entirely in tune with reality - but in truth it mattered little to her. Every work she perused, every word within that she read, even those she could immediately discount as irrelevant or useless, was - in her view - one more stepping stone to greater knowledge of this world, to the power to do what her friends needed her to do. To the way home.

By the middle of their second week in the city, as much as she was enjoying herself and would continue to spend time in the library, she had settled on a different strategy. It was not one that she had failed to consider before - indeed, it was one that she had - briefly - thought to try, not longer after they had first arrived in Azeroth, and then again more recently, upon being invited by King Varian to an audience in his keep, before their conscription and journey north.

She needed to seek out someone both powerful and knowledgeable who might have both the ability - and the will - to aid them. Someone who she could work with on the problem, even if they might not have the answer to hand, to begin with.

It would only be hours after this resolution, having made her way back to the Silver Enclave to turn in, that she overheard from a passing guard that Lady Jaina Proudmoore was coming to the city.

---

Pinkie Pie could see that the first two guards outside the Violet Hold didn’t know quite what to make of her as she made her way up to them, pushing a trolley covered with a cloth. Dressed in her blue and silver duty robes, she stood out like a sore thumb against their mostly purple equipment and the patterned stone beneath their feet.

“Hi!” She announced herself before they could challenge her, stopping with the trolley a few feet away from them. “I’m here with the dessert delivery.”

Both men looked at her strangely. “The what?” one asked.

“I’m... sorry?” said the other.

“The dessert delivery!” Pinkie repeated, beaming her sunshine smile.

That didn’t clear things up for them very much at all. “Are you lost, ma’am?” the first guard asked with a polite smile, trying to be helpful.

“Nope! It’s for the the guards and the prisoners, y’know?”

“Uh...”

She didn’t let their ignorance bother her. She’d been prepared for such an eventuality. Information didn’t always get passed down the chain, after all. It might happen sometimes when making arrangements, organising the logistics of an event. A good party planner, whether planning for a party or not, always had to be prepared for everything.

“I have all the paperwork right here.” Out from her robe pocket came the document that she’d had Twilight procure for her - and that she herself had taken to the city’s leadership for approval. It hadn’t been easy tracking the right people down, persuading them to agree to her idea, but it would be worth it, sure as sugar.

The first guard took it from her, and she waited patiently for a few moments as he and his colleague checked the papers over, muttering back and forth.

Eventually, he looked back at her. “I’ll take you to see our supervisor, Lieutenant Sinclari, about this, but we’ll need to search your cart first.”

Entirely reasonable of them, and again not unexpected. “Of course!” she said, whipping off the thin cloth that covered the contents in one swift motion.

She could tell from their faces that the bounty beneath was like nothing they had ever seen before, and felt a swell of pride at her handiwork. It was a three-package deal, a trinity of sweet flavours that would delight even the taste buds belonging to the harshest of critics. Rows upon rows of tightly-packed, strawberry-iced cupcakes lined the first layer of the trolley, squeezed so tightly together that they were practically overflowing its side. Slices of gooey brownie on the second layer, crafted with care from a Dalaran-original recipe. And - last but certainly not least - her crowning glory: a massive celebration cake, packed full of bloodberry jam; decorated with oodles of icing and frosting, and topped with an array of mixed chocolate buttons. It had wobbled most of all as she had pushed the trolley along, but she knew - from careful calculation - that it would not fall.

She had worked for the better part of a week to perfect these recipes, using ingredients she was far from familiar with - and she had been so pleased with the results. Getting positive reviews from those in the kitchen with whom she had worked had been the - literal - icing on the cake.

Finding nothing untoward in their search, the guards nodded, and motioned for her to proceed. She covered up the cart once more and pushed it after them. Emerging a few moments later through the large archway, she paused at a respectful distance as the guards consulted their superior officer, then - upon being beckoned - moved forward to join them.

The lieutenant skipped the first few pages of paperwork, mumbling as she read along. “Permission requested to take confectionary into and distribute through the Violet Hold... Permission granted...” She flipped straight to the back page and checked the signature box at the very end. “Authorisation given yesterday by - Rhonin himself?!”

“Yep!”

“How on Azeroth did you manage to get the leader of the Council of Six to approve of... this?” Sinclari demanded incredulously.

Pinkie shrugged. “I talked to him about the benefits that sweet treats can have on staff morale and prisoner rehabilitation. Then I gave him a cupcake! He really seemed to like it, and said I could give it a try.”

“I...” Sinclari read the document cover-to-cover and reviewed the signature three more times before she had to concede that there was no error or falsehood. “Very well,” she relented. “This goes against most of my common sense, but you have filled in all of the paperwork necessary for a visit, and it comes down as an order from above...”

She beckoned over a guard to see Pinkie into the Hold. “You may proceed with your task - but be warned. The place that you’re entering is as safe as we can make it, but accidents can happen, and we’re housing some of the most challenging - not to mention dangerous - inmates that have ever been contained under our roof. Listen to the guards at all times. If they say you need to leave for safety, you leave at once. Understood?”

“Okie dokie lokie!” she agreed happily, and pushed her cart after him as he showed her the way. Sinclari and the other guards watched her disappear inside the hold, baffled beyond words.

---

"...and they have even said that I will be able to work on some of the orders alone for the first time, tomorrow," Rarity said to Twilight, as they walked through the streets together. They had met by chance that afternoon, their work and studying done for the afternoon, and it was almost time to return to the Silver Enclave for dinner.

"You wear your equipment while you're working there?" Twilight asked, taking note of her friend's manner of dress.

Rarity shrugged. "I'm told it is something that adventurers often do when they practice their craft at the Talismanic Textiles. Most have no time or desire to change into other wear. I could, I suppose, but somehow I feel more comfortable in them than what else I have available."

The mage found that she could relate, and nodded. Though she had no problem personally with the clothes they had received from the city, they did not feel as comfortable as her well-worn, enchanted duty robes - and she too was wearing them now, even with no real need to do so.

"With that said, I am looking forward to being able to put my new skills to the test to craft something more... appropriate to wear in social situations," Rarity continued. "Something for each of us. Functionality only goes so far, after all."

"I'll look forward to it," Twilight chuckled, thinking back to the beautiful dresses Rarity had made for them before their first Grand Galloping Gala - what now seemed like a lifetime ago. "After all that time in the Dragonblight..."

"Please, don't remind me, darling," Rarity blanched. The smell. I am just glad now to have been able to wash these garments, and to have the opportunity to do so whenever I want."

The entranceway to the Silver Enclave loomed ahead of them, but Rarity hesitated outside. “I will see you up there shortly, Twilight,” she said. “I have a swift errand to run in the Eventide - a small delivery to make on behalf of the tailors. It will not take very long.”

“Oh, don’t worry - I’ll go with you!” she offered. Not that she was concerned about Rarity’s safety in the city, especially in the middle of a sunny, relatively mild northern afternoon, but she had no idea if any of their other friends had returned to the rooms already from their pursuits. It made more sense for her to follow Rarity, for the sake of company and conversation alone, even if her task was a simple one.

“That’s most kind of you, thank you." she replied.

They continued through the streets at a slow pace, chatting aimlessly, without the need or care to hurry. That had been the best part of this time away - alongside the pursuit of their passions - the ability to walk in peace, without fear or concern, that would have been so unthinkable during their time in the wastes.

It was just a shame, with their vacation already halfway over, that it wasn't likely to last.

Before long, they reached their destination in the Eventide, a store that sold leather and chain armour, and Rarity popped inside to finish her errand. She was out again less than a minute later, having only been asked to pass on a single note. “All done,” she announced. "Thank you again for coming with me, Twilight. Let us return—“

She stopped mid-sentence, clutching an ear, as she was cut off by a terrible sound, a harsh, whining drone like that of a banshee's warbling. They hadn’t heard anything like it before during their short stay in the city, and it seemed to surprise everyone else around them too.

Rarity winced. “What is that ghastly noise?”

“An alarm, maybe?” Twilight suggested. “It’s probably nothing for us to worry about.” Though it seemed to be coming from nearby, perhaps only a few streets away, it wasn’t their problem to deal with—

And then, suddenly realising exactly where they were, she stopped in her tracks. “Rarity?” she began, a dreadful suspicion bubbling to the forefront of her mind. “Did you see Pinkie this morning? Did she tell you where she was going?”

Rarity looked at her, puzzled. “Why, yes - she mentioned that she was going to visit the Violet Hold today. She did not deign to tell me why - I am unsure what sort of business she would have in such a dreary place - but she did say that it was not far from the Eventide Wishing Well...”

She trailed off as Twilight pointed to the nearby water feature, then up to the sky to indicate the alarm.

“You don’t think...”

“Pinkie Pie,” they said simultaneously, and hurried off, without another word, towards the source of the sound.

---

It only took them a few minutes to reach the Hold from where they had started, at a decent pace. Despite the city as a whole being largely comprised of a criss-cross of confusing streets, their route - aided as they were in navigation by the wailing din - was relatively uncomplicated.

They arrived to find the area in uproar. It was separated from the rest of the city by a short stone tunnel, and the second clue that something was amiss (the first being the alarm that continued to blare painfully in their ears) was the absence of any guards by the initial entrance. Instead, they were quick to be found congregating further within the complex.

Five men and women milled about on the bridge leading into the Hold itself, seemingly confused by the alarm and at a loss at what to do. They wore purple plate armour and violet tabards emblazoned with the bronze eye of the Kirin Tor, and carried keen-edged swords and heavy bronze shields that glowed and rippled with warding enchantments. A few concerned onlookers of various races stood nearby, but were giving the guards a wide berth. Two, Twilight noticed, stood together, a little further forward than the rest - a tauren, clad in ochre robes, and an orc woman dressed in a matching sapphire-scaled jerkin and chaps.

“Report!” A blonde woman shouted, straining to be heard over the alarm. She was clad in robes that were much more opulent than the rest, and - judging from the way she was trying to take charge of the situation - had to be some kind of leader within the Kirin Tor. “How can something like that just... explode?!”

More guards were hurrying over to crowd around her, from all sides and out of the Hold itself. Twilight and Rarity filtered in behind them, and caught some of the first report given by a particularly panicked soldier.

“—then she brought the cake near the core hound, and it, I don’t know how, but it started to shake, so we moved it to the middle of the room, but then it—“

The woman suddenly caught sight of Twilight and Rarity, practically - if not literally - eavesdropping behind her men, and was having none of it. “Move away, move away!” she said. “Official Kirin Tor business. This area isn’t safe for civilians right now.”

“Please,” Twilight began, trying to rush out the words, “Our friend was visiting the prison today - maybe you’ve seen her? She has pink hair—“

Frustration flashed across the other woman’s face. “The one who got us into this mess...!” she interrupted, then took note of the staff latched on Twilight’s back, and the daggers at Rarity’s belt. “Alliance soldiers, are you both? Have you had any combat experience in Northrend yet?”

Twilight nodded. “Lieutenant Twilight Sparkle and Agent Rarity, First Company, The Darkshire Regiment. We fought the Scourge and the Blue Dragonflight in Borean Tundra and the Dragonblight before arriving here.”

Her hostile expression turned to something closer to relief. “Lieutenant Sinclari, head guard of the Violet Hold,” she introduced herself in turn. “If you’ve experience fighting the Blues, we could use your assistance right now. They’ve broken through our magical defences and are moving troops into the Hold via portals they are conjuring. My guards are doing our best to hold them off, but Malygos’ assailants just keep coming, and I fear that the one coordinating the raid has yet to make their grand entrance.

“Your friend is still inside - I’ll take you to her if you will aid us in fending off the Blues. I’m taking a risk by requesting this of you, but my men need all the help they can get.”

The Blue Dragonflight! Here we go again... “Of course,” Twilight agreed. “To protect the city, and to make sure our friend is safe - we’ll do what we can.”

She hadn’t missed what else Sinclari had said in her moment of anger. The one who got us into this mess... She didn’t want to think about the kind of trouble Pinkie had managed to cause on her brief visit to the prison, but suspected that she was about to find out.

“Thank you,” Sinclari said, motioning towards the entrance. “Then let’s—“

“We will assist you as well... if you will have us.” The tauren standing nearby chose this moment to speak up, with a calm voice and even tone that was much softer than Twilight had expected from his appearance alone. The orc woman next to him grunted in support.

If the lieutenant was at all prejudiced against the two members of the Horde, she did not show it. “Thank you - I won’t turn away aid, freely offered.”

She turned and operated a control by the entrance. The doors swung open, revealing a corridor leading deeper into the building. “Come with me!” They followed her inside, footsteps - and hoof steps - beating a fast rhythm into the stone floor.

Twilight looked over to the two strangers as they advanced together, and found that they were both already gazing at her in turn. “My name is Twilight Sparkle,” she said, hoping to show - despite their appearance as members of the Alliance - that she and her friend bore them equally as little hostility as the neutral Kirin Tor mage, “And this is Rarity.”

The tauren inclined his head respectfully. “Mato Wildmane. Would that we might all have met under better circumstances.”

The orc woman scoffed a little at his words. “Krasha Axestorm. And there are no better circumstances to meet than in battle.”

The latter sentiment wasn’t one that Twilight could agree with, but she held her tongue.

The corridor ended with another large, closed door, which Sinclari hastened to open for them. It split down the middle with a mechanical whrrrr, revealing an expansive room beyond - and a scene of absolute chaos.

Comments

[Kiue Jin]

I'm curious as to what Pinkie seems to have done that make this situation worse. Because the Blues were going to make their assault regardless...

Then again, I feel like it's going to be hilarious if Pinkie has somehow rallied some of the inmates to her side to fight dragons. Not all of them of course but... Pinkie riding a Corehound into battle is both insane and strangely in character.

[taelonso]

I NEED MORE THIS CAN'T END AT THIS POINT WITH A CLIFF HANGER VHIEFVHWEIHVBIWEHBVUIEW

[CommanderApplejack]

Oh boy, what did Pinkie get involved in