The Shatterspear Scribe.

October 15th, 2013 by Zundra · No Comments · Guild storylines


Dusk came and the stars began to appear again. Two sisters with little love left for one another stood on Darkspear soil each with a male astride them. After brief introductions, Dzivah got to the point. She didn’t feel she had much time left. She gestured with her chin to the Shatterspear male.

“You. ‘Laikah be telling Dzivah many things of you.”

The Shatterspear male glanced uneasily at her. He’d heard the stories enough to know that she wasn’t a short fall from losing her temper. He thought it best to be obsequious in the circumstances. “I hope she be tellin’ you no falsehoods mon, I be but a simple Priest on a simple quest.”
“Quest, eh? Be that so? Dzivah has a quest of her own. Maybe we can help one another.”

Laikah spoke up softly. “Jenroku. My sister Dzivah… I told her about you. And she insisted that she speak to you.”
Dzivah strode up close to the Shatterspear male, not in the slightest bit intimidated by him. He was smaller than the average male, though not as small as her trusted confidant Okisha who sat nearby. ‘That be so. You be Shatterspear, yes? Your kind, once Gurubashi too, yes?’
Jenroku panicked visibly as the impressive Darkspear woman entered his space. “I am, and we were. Though that is a tale that is hard on my heart to tell.”

Dzivah scoffed. The constant struggle of her race made for interesting reading, but she felt her interest wither when face to face with the pitiable legacies of those troubles. “Dzivah knows somewhat of your plight. Similar tales are told by my own people. We, exiled for generations, and left to die out on the seas. Much sadness, anguish, and impotent rage. But that is not why Dzivah needs your help.”

Jenroku nodded. He knew she wasn’t interested in much of what he wanted to say. Only what he needed to say. He then began to wonder if Dzivah knew that he knew that.

“Dzivah hears that you are a scribe for your people.”

“Aye. It not be common for my people to hold books and writings in high regard, it is true. But our Jin saw in me the potential for a different kind of learning. And so I take more kindly to paper and quill, rather than knife and bow.”

Dzivah gestured to Ohiska. “Brother Ohiska has tried to help Dzivah decipher a riddle. Dzivah suspects that the riddles are best understood by someone with learnings of text from older times. You Shatterspear were once of the shared Empire. Perhaps you have some skill and experience in texts from those times.”

He looked Dzivah dead in the eyes. “I owe your sister a life debt. If I can help you, it will help her. And so I shall.”
He pauses for a moment. “How did you come about such a riddle that such an experienced Brother could not solve, if I may ask?”

Ohiska tilts his chin up. His mask covered what would likely have been a defeated frown. “We had many ideas, but we failed to reach consensus. The texts speak of an astrological occurrence.”

“We thought that this was specifically one in the Kalimdor sky. But now we are unsure.”

Jenroku grinned, his confidence growing. ‘You are in luck. I have spent many a moon staring at the skies above my village and have developed something of a fascination with them. They’ve become something of a pet project of mine.”

“Very good, then you will help Dzivah?”

Before a reply could be given, Laikah clutched at her sister’s arm as if  overburdened by an overwhelming sense of frustration and relief. “This will release Jenroku’s life debt to me. I am concerned about Dzivah’s wellbeing. I believe she is being hunted by sick and malignant spirits.” Dzivah shrugged off her sister’s outburst with a firm shove. Her fingertips lit up, but she quickly reigned herself in. Best not to set fire to someone trying to help her, no matter how irritating she found them.

Jenroku couldn’t help but tacitly acknowledge what she’d done. He’d been so weary of her that he couldn’t help but watch her carefully. “I have not known many who dabble in the sorts of arts you do, Dzivah. My people were but hunters, taking pride in simpler pleasures.”

Dzivah scoffed. ‘…You can tell from looking at me, that I am attuned to the arcane arts?’

“I may have mentioned to Jenroku that you were an arcanist.” said Laikah, her tone regretful and disgusted.

Dzivah erupted with guttural laughter. “So. You’ve likely heard an earful on Dzivah’s accursed ways and her sleights against Laikah’s delicate sensibilities. Very good. You still offer to help, even if your motivation is to indulge Laikah. That does not bother me. Dzivah will not turn help down even if it’s offered by an idiot.”

“Blood is stronger than any force. Your ‘sleights’ are included in this, I be sure.” he replied, stoically absorbing her harsh words.

Ohiska picked himself up, stretching slightly. “Enough of this idle chatter.” He sighed, gesturing to the nearby hall. “I believe we should go inside and speak of our business within, yes?”
Jenroku turned to the smaller male. Unlike the others, who were surprised by his sudden burst of authoritative energy, he simply bowed his head in deference. “You have been good to wait, Brother. My apologies for taking up your precious time. Please, lead the way.”


The four conversed for an hour or two more. Dzivah and Ohiska spoke of all they’d known so far: about the strange man in the Vale, about his verbal prophecies and strange behavior. With a fuller picture in his mind, their new ally steeled himself for the task ahead. The riddle that was given sounded easy enough, but he knew its mystery wouldn’t yield without some effort.

With Laikah as escort, they made the journey back to Razor Hill. Jenroku knew he had his work cut out for him, so it would be best to get an early morning start.

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