With Torendal’s dramatic exit behind us, the guild needed to close his chapter in a way that truly honored the mess he left behind. How better to do that than with the Forsaken, who excelled at cleaning up both literal and metaphorical corpses?
Diplomacy wasn’t everyone’s strength, but it was one of Aleskia’s gifts. Who else could sit down with the undead, keep a straight face, and strike a deal over decomposing body parts? Leaving behind the pristine elegance of Silvermoon, she journeyed to Brill, a place that would make any living soul’s stomach churn. With its permanently cloudy skies and the faint smell of death clinging to the air, Brill was where the real work got done.
The Brill inn wasn’t what you’d call inviting. The roof sagged, the windows were either cracked or missing, and the furniture looked like it had already died and been resurrected—probably more than once. But none of that mattered. This was where business happened, where the serious talks about body parts and plagues took place. The Sin’dorei would have fainted at the very idea of such a place, but Aleskia was not your average elf. She fit in with the Forsaken in a way that was strange yet…fitting.
She was greeted by Akru, the Grand Apothecary of the Hand of Agony, and his right-hand men, Jorrick and Occultan. Now, Akru wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type—actually, no one in the Forsaken really was—but there was a sense of respect that Aleskia and Akru shared. It wasn’t common to see a Blood Elf get so comfortable around rotting corpses, but here she was, unfazed.
As they sat down, Akru—ever the charming host—offered Aleskia a drink that looked like it could dissolve a steel shield. She politely declined (because self-preservation), and they got to the heart of the matter: Torendal’s body. What was left of it, anyway.
Now, this wasn’t just about claiming a corpse for a proper burial. No, the Forsaken had a…creative way of handling remains. And it turned out, Jorrick was in the market for a new right arm. His old one had fallen off during an unfortunate incident involving some particularly aggressive ghouls and, well, it wasn’t coming back. So, naturally, the idea was floated: Why not use Torendal’s?
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Jorrick, for his part, seemed thrilled. He gave his old, tattered arm a disinterested glance, the bones sticking out in odd angles, and muttered, “I could use an upgrade.” And what better than Torendal’s right arm, fresh from his recent demise? With a sly grin, Jorrick grabbed a bone saw from his satchel, a tool he probably carried around for just such occasions, and went to work.
In no time, Torendal’s right arm had been repurposed, attached to Jorrick with a combination of dark magic and whatever sticky potions the Forsaken had at their disposal. The transformation was… surprisingly seamless. Torendal’s arm was now Jorrick’s, and with a few flexes, Jorrick admired his new limb, declaring, “Fits like a charm.”
Aleskia sat back, trying her best not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here she was, in a decrepit inn in Brill, watching a Forsaken sew a former guild master’s arm onto himself. This was her life now. Sin’dorei cocktail parties could keep their shallow gossip and judgments. She had real stories to tell.
The conversation continued, with Akru and his crew discussing the “recycling” of Torendal’s other parts. They weren’t sentimental, of course. Torendal’s bones, skin, and whatever else could be useful were divvied up with all the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Occultan mentioned using some of Torendal’s rib bones to stir their next batch of plague, which elicited a dark chuckle from Akru. Practical as always, the Forsaken found a way to make even the dead useful.
Aleskia sealed the deal, ensuring the recycling of Torendal’s remains. But it wasn’t just about closing a chapter—it was about forging an unusual friendship with Akru and the Hand of Agony. Sure, it wasn’t a relationship that would be celebrated at high-society galas, but for the guild, it meant bigger, bolder, and better RP opportunities.
From that point on, Aleskia often met with Akru, striking new deals and venturing into the darker, grimmer side of guild life. It wasn’t what she’d imagined when she first set out, but guild life thrived in this new chapter. And honestly? We thought it was genius. What better way to end a saga than by turning a former guildmaster into a patchwork Forsaken creation? Sin’dorei snobbery be damned, we had a story that would be retold around RP fires for years to come.