There were so many in the Courtyard, and Ban took a long look around. Genn. Liam. Lorna. The Royal Guard. A roiling, snarling mass of worgen…truly the best that Gilneas still had to offer.

"There's no way out of here." He didn't mean to say it, but things like that tended to fall out of his mouth like unwanted rain during a flood. If it was an awkward and unwarranted statement, then he was the one guaranteed to say it. Evelyn glanced at him in concern, and even Crowley nodded warily.

"I have faith in Genn." He finally stated when Ban's stare grew long. "He is the lord of the pack. He wouldn't sacrifice us unless there was no other choice. There are several other places we could stand at, with escape routes. There must be some reason to choose here. He has my daughter here. His son…."

Put that way, Ban felt selfish and small, and he dropped his head. The elder clapped him on the back, shook his head, before loping off to speak to Genn. "I still don't like it." He muttered mutinously to Evelyn, who only nodded. "I'm not looking for a valiant death…"

"Ban, we're here. It's too late. I agree with Lord Crowley, put your faith in the King. Lorna, Liam, they wouldn't be here if this was truly as inescapable as it looks. The city is filled with ways in, ways out….You, of all people, should know that better than any."

He nodded. He was very familiar with the hidden ways in the Merchant's quarter, he'd been born there. Raised there, as a child with a gift of climbing and escape. A desire to hide. But he was unfamiliar with this quarter of the city, he'd avoided it, those who lived here had titles, great names. He had neither.

But she was correct, if it was a trap, he was now within it. He turned, facing the way out, standing to his full height and opening his hands at the ready. Come, if you dare. He lifted his own voice in the keening howl of the pack, singing his own battle call.

And, of course, they came.

There were so many of them, it seemed like every single one that Ban destroyed was replaced by three, a ceaseless wave of stubborn death that refused to accept its time had passed. He'd been pushed back, into something perilously close to a corner, when the trumpets sounded. They weren't Gilnean, they were expecting no reinforcements, and Ban blinked in dismay when the group rode boldly into the Courtyard. It was another one of those whatever they were, undead female elf with bow… but this one had what could only be a royal honor guard, and an aura of command that twisted his stomach.

"Genn!" She shouted, pointing unerringly at the King, and his face was still.

"Sylvanas." He identified, and Ban took a swallow. That was a name he'd run across in books before, the Quel'dorei ranger general… dead. Undead. Here, in Gilneas. The pack must have been making the same realization, he could feel them tense to leap, to attack, to swarm… and then he was pounded into the wall with a brutal, head spinning force.

"No, Father!" Liam. Liam was still up, if Ban could only orient himself.

"Liam! No, Liam!" Rage and anguish erupted from Genn, and still, Ban could not seem to come to his senses. He needed to get up. He needed to run. He needed to fight. He needed to do something more than lay here and twitch on the cobblestones.

"He took the arrow intended for you, Genn. How very brave." She even had the same insulting, lilting voice as the bitch who had gotten to him earlier. He wanted to kill. To maim. To destroy that which had already been destroyed. "It doesn't matter. I will tear your city down around your ears, Genn Greymane. There is no escape from here, you will die with him. And then you, and your pack, will serve me in death."

How long he lay there, he wasn't certain. All he knew was Genn's harsh, racking sobs, a sound he couldn't truly comprehend. Genn was iron. Steel. Unbending, unbreakable. He was the lord of the pack. King of Gilneas.

He felt Evelyn's presence, she was standing, and he still could not. "Ban?" She mourned, and he needed her touch, her voice. She knelt beside him, resting her open hands on his side. "Well, you're still alive." She breathed, smoothing his coat down. "Wake up, Ban."

"I'm awake." He muttered, finally managing to weakly scrabble his paws along the cobblestones.

"Is the pup hurt?" Crowley demanded, and Ban managed a thick, choked growl. Pup! Damned elder…. If he could only get up… Oh, who was he fooling? Crowley was intimidating even when Ban was at his best.

"I think he hit the wall when we were all thrown back. There's blood." He could feel her touch on the back of his head, and with it pointed out to him, felt wetness. "Liam?" The question was a mere whisper, and Ban forced his eyes open to watch Crowley's response. The elder bowed his head, then gave it a single sharp shake.

"The boy is gone."

No. He managed a snuffling whine, and Crowley sighed in agreement. "He's coming around. Do you still have any of those potions? I need him up and going, we need to withdraw. I need to be…with Genn."

"Several." She whispered, and Ban could feel Crowley move slowly away. He felt Evelyn grasp great handfuls of his guard coat, and felt her tears when she buried her face in the soft fur of his belly.

"Shhh…Evelyn." The world was still spinning, but he couldn't stay down like a broken bug. Not here. Not now.

"I'm sorry…Ban. Here." He managed to lift his head to swallow. Managed to stagger to his feet. And gave his voice to the rising howl of pain and anguish given by the pack, echoing through the empty streets.

And afterward, he felt sickly empty. Everything he'd, everything they'd, done had not been enough. The pack's son was down, and he felt unworthy to even gaze in that direction. Evelyn's hand was small when she slid her fingers into his grasp, and he pulled her close. Suddenly the fact that the offspring of their leaders had been here was not so much of a relief. They were trapped. Surrounded. With no place to run to. In an empty, desolate city so far from his memories that it seemed like a mocking nightmare, not home.

"Ah, Evelyn." He sighed, leaning his chin on her shoulder. All of it had been for naught. Once again, he stood in a falling Gilneas City and comprehended his own doom. Why had they brought him back for this? He could have been happy, in the headlands, in his den.

"Banastre, I love you. No matter what happens…" He cringed when she pushed away from him, only to wipe her nose on the sleeve of his finest coat. Well, it had once been his finest, she'd worn it to a sagging comfort that it had never had with him. It might still smell of his change, but it was most certainly hers now. "And we're going to make it. I just know it."

"It's getting dark." He noted morbidly, and she stepped on his paw for it. He yelped, and picked her up off of it, glaring at her menacingly.

"Yes, yes, yes." She grumbled in the same tone as his mother used when she was not amused by something he had done. "You're very big and scary. Now put me down."

He placed her down gently, as far from his paws as he could manage, and took a cautious step away from her. At least she wasn't afraid of him. He wasn't certain he could tolerate that. He settled to watch, and wait, doing his best not to stare at the somber knot of people surrounding Liam's still body, and the bowed Genn. Lorna peeled herself off, had a quick discussion with her father, and then strode deliberately straight towards the pair of them.

"Pick a house. Get some sleep while you can. There are rumors that the Scourge…" she wrinkled her nose defiantly, "Are outside the City with plague machines. If we need to make a run for it, you need to be as rested as possible. Our intelligence tells us dawn. We can hope it's right."

"Pick a house." Evelyn glanced around at the fine homes, gave a sharp nod, and pulled Ban towards one. The door was thoroughly locked, but locks rarely bothered Ban. A little magic in all the right places and…. He rested his claws on the lock plate and concentrated.

It popped open, and Evelyn gave him a stare. It was frightening how much she could look like his mother when she put her mind to it. "I know. I know. I'm deplorable."

"Actually, I was just thinking how useful you were." Her gaze was level and honest. That was a term he'd never heard used to describe him…that was a Bram word. Bram had been useful. Honest. Hardworking.

He shrugged it away, pushing the door open. The house was nice, very tasteful, and he felt like an interloper. But Lorna was right, he needed sleep. The two injuries…healing potions would heal the damage but not the exhaustion. Hour after hour of casting… Bram had laughed when he'd tried to explain how hard that was, but Ban was at the end of his fortitude. All he needed was a nice fine hearth and…

"Where are you going?" Evelyn asked, her voice a mere whisper.

"To sleep…?" He motioned at what seemed to be a particularly nice hearth, right down to the heavy rug before it.

"Ban, you are not a dog. Come."

He followed her warily into a bedroom, and stared when she imperiously pointed at the bed. He shrank into his human form, then nodded and climbed into the bed. He was almost asleep when he felt her sit next to him, heard her boots drop on the floor.

"Wha?" He demanded sleepily.

"You go right on to sleep Banastre, and don't be worrying about it."

He woke when the pack alerted, awakened by the soft yips as they began moving as a group instead of independently. When their voices changed from common, from human, and gave into the pack tongue, when they warned, and snarled, and pushed, they nudged him awake.

The enemy of the pack moves. Wake. Make ready. Soon. The moon falls. The sun rises. It is time.

He opened his eyes. As he'd already been told, it was moonset, false dawn. Evelyn was deeply asleep, burrowed into his side. He'd managed to sleep the night through, in a bed, still in human form.

"Evelyn, wake up."

She woke quickly, easily, warily. "What?"

"The pack runners are saying it's time."

"I heard nothing."

He rested a hand on her hair, and held his breath. Again, the voice of the pack, more insistent…. "There."

"I hear yips. A hunting pack's…yips. Of course." She stood, "You would understand them. So I was right…that is a language."

He nodded slowly, moving to the window and opening it, listening. Yes, he understood it. He felt it. "They seem to think we're withdrawing." He muttered, answering the conversation with his own sharply pitched dialogue. I'm awake. I hear. I understand. We come.

"Withdrawing how?" She demanded, and he shrugged in answer.

"They don't say." He carefully locked the window back, and she was ready to go by the time he'd finished. "Let's go figure it out."

"This is insane." Ban noted, staring down the hole. The stench of rats, of damp, assaulted his nostrils even in human form; it would be eye watering in worgen. And there was no way he was going down that hole in his human form...

"It's the only way out." Lorna didn't sound too certain herself, but she was probably correct. It was a tunnel, it was here, and it appeared to head in the right way. "My father says the pack is to move down it first, take care of the rats, then those of us who are not afflicted follow… since we have horses, and Evelyn still has dogs. It's going to be slow going to get the horses through that…" she waved at the stairwell in disgust.

"Eh." He agreed. It was large enough, but any sane horse would balk before going down there. But he'd come to the conclusion that neither Evelyn nor Lorna possessed a sane horse. "There are a lot of rats down there."

She laughed, "And we have a lot of worgen. You're a mage. Kill them. Turn them into something; just make sure the passage is clear."

Right. And now he was the local rat catcher.

It was more than a few rats down that hole. It was more than a lot of rats. It was a flood of rats, and Ban had never been fond of them when found singly. As a mage, he was among the first down the hole, and his ears were filled with their shrieks. He rolled into his casts, amusing himself by freezing them by the hundreds at a time. The cacophony grew, and he found himself laughing bitterly. Finally, he had a target he could kill en masse. Something to blunt his frustrations upon.

Evelyn tilted her head, listening down the hole. "It sounds like…."

"Banastre is having a rare good time." Lorna finished, and Evelyn had to nod in agreement. "How are…you….doing?"

Evelyn peeled off a glove and held her hand up. There was not a single mark from where Ban had bitten her, not a twinge when Lorna grasped her fingers and pressed warily. Lorna's hand was warm when she rested it against Evelyn's forehead, not chill as it would be if she was running a fever. She felt exhausted, but not ill. By now, she should have been showing some sign if she was going to Change. Even Ban, who had held the Change at bay for so long, had had symptoms this many hours after he'd been afflicted. He'd been obviously ill.

"By now, we'd be able to smell the Change upon her." Crowley grumbled, appearing in the doorway of the house they had moved Liam's body into. "She's well. And…" He glowered, "We are not to tell the pup. It was not his fault."

"I don't blame Ban!" Evelyn hissed, and Crowley shrugged.

"You may not. He will."

Evelyn nodded. It had been her own foolishness to put her fingers where a worgen was bound to bite them. If she had indeed been afflicted, it would have been her own damned fault, but Crowley was right. Ban would not see it that way. He'd blame himself. He'd grow moody, dark, and try to push her away. That was nothing she wanted to deal with.

"Agreed." Lorna nodded sharply. "No harm done. When are we moving Liam?"

"When the way is clear." He gazed down the hole, his ears pricked. "Which shouldn't be too long. The capital does not have enough rats to slake that one's rage."

Ban had run out of rats. It was a sad reality, but a reality nonetheless. They must have heard the noise taper off, because he smelled dogs, horses, and women coming. "It's clear." He confirmed, and Evelyn came into view, the coupling leash on her remaining mastiffs wrapped around her wrist, a wide eyed cob trailing at the end of his reins.

"Go." She directed, pointing ahead. "They have Genn…and Liam…behind us."

He nodded, dropping to all fours and loping ahead of her. He wasn't certain where this came out at, he was certain by the ceaseless dripping from the ceiling, and its unwavering westerly direction, that it passed beneath the water surrounding the city. It also went far, but the rats had kept close to the city side.

"Oh." He stopped when he came to the end. He was certain that this had not been planned, and it was just too much.

"Damn." Evelyn agreed when she came out into the new sunlight. "How… very…. wrong."

He whined in answer, raising questioning and sad eyes to Lorna when she appeared. She only nodded, unsurprised when she gazed out over the cemetery they'd come out in. "Yes, I know. So do they. The plan is to lay Liam to rest here, quickly, and make the run to Keel. It's not fitting, but it's the best we can do at this moment. We'll give him the funeral he deserves when we can. Until then, he stays in Gilneas. We may flee, but he will not."

Ban growled, glancing around. "I've been here before, but something feels…wrong." Many of his family had been buried here, and he remembered it as a calm, tranquil place to be. He'd always found it peaceful, but not today. Evelyn frowned, following his gaze.

"Right. My parents are here…and this isn't how…."

"Have the Forsaken defiled it?" Ban dreaded to ask, but he had to.

"No, Master Russell…the Forsaken have not defiled it. We have…accidentally." Krennan Aranas stepped into view, and Ban bowed in greeting. "We evacuated so many through here, in such a hurry, that we disturbed the graves. Will you help me placate our ancestors before Genn brings his son here?"

"Of…course." It was the least they could do… By Evelyn's sharp nod, she agreed. "What do you need?"

"Bring me any visible grave mementos…" Aranas sighed, "From the newer graves. Those are the ones most likely to be upset, and those have the youngest spirits. The ones most likely to still move, and to deny Liam rest."

Ban studied the ground, then nodded, heading for his own family's plot. They had died recently, in the Affliction. Their graves would still be fairly fresh. If they had been disturbed, then it was his duty to see them rest again. And, he should pay his respects, at least once, before he was run out of Gilneas. Evelyn was in step beside him; her family's plot was adjacent to his. She grasped his hand, and he squeezed gently.

It was as he feared; he could sense the turmoil when he grew close. He slid from his worgen form, shrank, and approached their graves. Evelyn would have made certain that they were buried correctly, with fine mementos, just as they had done earlier for her father when she'd come to them.

"Mother. Father. Bram. Aunt Lucy." It was surreal to be here, as dawn broke over Gilneas City to his east, under bombardment from the Forsaken that surrounded it, to kneel before his own grave marker. "Whose doing was that?" He asked, pointing at it morbidly. Surely it wasn't Evelyn; everything he'd heard was that she knew he was quite alive.

"The Crown did for everyone we knew had stood at the Cathedral." She answered, shaking her head. "None of these have been disturbed. They're all too old, too settled." She left her plot to stand behind him. "But these…"

He nodded, they were recent. Disturbed. He could feel the flow of outrage in the very air surrounding him.

"Mother. Father. Bram. Aunt Lucy." He tried again, resting a hand on each of his parents' mounds.

"Ban."

He swallowed nausea, of all the ones to come; it had to be the one he was least able to deal with. "Bram." He could feel Evelyn's hands fall to his shoulders, her fingers tight through his shirt.

"Forgive me."

His brother appeared over the mound to Ban's left, and he sighed, standing. "Bram, it wasn't your fault. You were sick."

"Why have you come here?" He looked just as Ban remembered, tall, honest, a bear of a man.

"The prince has died. We need to lay him to rest here, in Gilneas before we withdraw. But his resting place is disturbed; he will not know rest…"

"Liam has died? You flee Gilneas, with Evelyn?" The spirit's gaze left Ban's face, fixated to the side, where Evelyn stood.

"Yes."

"Keep her safe. And take what you are seeking from us. We'd be honored…"

He vanished as the first full beam of sunlight painted the cemetery. Evelyn cursed thickly under her breath, trying vainly to fight back tears, and he gave her a glance. "Don't bother. Let them go, Evelyn. For Liam. For our people. For Gilneas." He dug until he found what he was looking for, the sterling silver memento mori buried with each of them.

"Aranas…. Here." He pressed the objects into the alchemist's hands, and stood back. "Evelyn, we should go…."

"No." It wasn't Evelyn who disagreed, and Ban turned to the voice. The king, lord of the pack, stood behind him. Crowley and Lorna stood on each side of Genn. "You both have stood for Gilneas, at Liam's side. I would have you here now."

"We're…honored." Ban managed, falling into step behind the three, and the royal guard who carried Liam. He wrapped an arm over Evelyn's shoulder when they reached the Greymanes' tomb, and she leaned into him.

Ban had never been one for funerals, and up until everything had gone rotten, had experienced very little call to be at any. And those had occurred while he was out of his mind, running all out towards the call of the wilds to the north. Now he stood, one of only a handful, at the Crown Prince's burial. No ceremony, just this raw reality.

"May the Light bless the spirits of our ancestors, for they've allowed my son to rest in this holy ground. It is here, surrounded by the heroes and patriots of Gilneas, where he belongs." Genn boomed, and Crowley nodded.

Lorna stepped forward, taking the silken flower from her hair and tucking it into the cloth covering Liam. "You were a true man of the people, Liam. Unlike any Royal I ever met. We'll make them pay for this."

Her father stepped up beside her, resting the silver length of Liam's blade upon the shroud. "Gilneas will remember your courage forever, Liam."

Ban was stunned when Genn's gaze fell upon the two of them…surely not? He stepped forward when the pack lord nodded; delving in his pockets…he had nothing…nothing at all…but… He pulled the only thing there out, resting it beside Lorna's offering. "May the spirits of my family watch over you, Liam." The circlet of beads on a black ribbon… his last gasp of humanity, tied into his beard when he'd let go of everything else.

"Mine as well." Evelyn placed a golden locket in the center of the circlet, Ban recognized it as a gift from her father… given during a rare sober moment.

"We'll return, Liam, I swear this to you." Genn stated.

Ban loped along, keeping easy pace with Evelyn's cob. They were as silent as the group before them; Lorna mounted on her gray hunter, the two great male worgen framing her. Keel waited before them, their evacuees, and rescue…

Crowley's pace slowed, his ears flipped forward, and a split second later, Ban heard the same noise. He didn't need the wave forward, flattening into full running speed, surging past the three of them like they were standing still. He crested a rise overlooking Keel, and dropped to his belly. The assault on the capital had been by Forsaken troops, and now he understood where the orcs were.

"What the…?" He marveled, taking a longer look at the tableau before him. He'd never seen the like, great, giant trees… walking trees, attacking orcs. The road was open, and he saw nothing that seemed like it could approach his speed, so he powered into his fullest speed, bolting up the road to Keel. There were boats here, two different types, and if neither one belonged to their supposed allies, then he needed to stop Genn…Evelyn…. Crowley, from coming here.

There were Gilneans here, Kal'dorei as well, and both groups looked ready for war. A quick glance at the graceful sloops in Keel Harbor proved that their crews were Kal'dorei. "The King, Crowley, follow me…is it safe to bring them through?" He demanded of the closest Gilnean officer, and the man coughed a sigh of relief.

"We'd heard that the city was plagued… you're from the group that held?"

"Yes. Like I said, they follow…do I stop them or not?"

"No. By now, the Forsaken are coming up behind them. This really is our only hope. We've been waiting…hoping… that you made it out."

That made too much sense, and Ban nodded, spinning to bolt back, coursing down the road. The group had paused, and Crowley stared at him when he rolled up. "Well? Why do I hear bombardments again? From Keel?"

"There are horde forces attacking Keel. Boats. Orcs… and a great dirigible."

Genn cursed, and Crowley glowered, his eye narrowing. "And our so called allies? The Kal'dorei?"

"Are at Keel. With the promised boats. And military forces. Our people are there, as well, on the boats. They're waiting for any sign of us…you."

"We're on our way. And thank you, Master Russell, your speed is truly a gift to us all." Genn nodded, and Ban was happy he was covered in fur and couldn't blush. "So we need to break an Orc blockade to get our people out of Keel."

Ban contemplated the situation, nodded, and asked an impertinent question in the pack tongue. Genn exploded into immediate laughter, and even Crowley chuckled. The two women looked blankly at the three of them until Genn clapped Ban on his shoulder. "I certainly do hope that Orcs taste better than the undead when bitten, Master Russell. I invite you to go find out!"

Ban grinned, lolling his tongue, and exploded into speed again, headed into the fray. He was so deeply content that Lorna had to bellow his name at least three times before it filtered in that she was calling him.

"What?" He demanded, rolling up to her. She pointed upwards, and he craned his neck… The dirigible. Massive, intimidating, ugly, it filled the sky above him. "It's too far away." He noted, although they were obviously not too far away for it to attack. He was not an impressive mage, and that was well out of his range.

"We can get there. The Kal'dorei have a way."

Ban stared at the 'way' dubiously. "You want me to ride that…there?" He pointed at the animal, and then up at the airship.

"Can you get up there another way? Some arcane way?"

"I'm a terrible mage."

"Is that a yes, or a no?"

He glared at her, and then at Evelyn coming up from the docks. "That's a no. I don't have another way to get up there."

Evelyn laughed, and his glare sharpened. "He hates heights. Always has." She chuckled, "He's not going to happily hop on one of these and fly up there." He bowed his head…after that, he was going. She knew it. He knew it.

"Fine. How do I steer it?" The brilliantly colored bird animal thing in question gazed at him in bright doubt, and he didn't blame it. He slid into his smaller human form, and allowed one of the Kal'dorei to help settle him on it. He listened to the quick lesson, picked up its reins, said a quick prayer to all that was holy and good, and clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. The world fell out from beneath him, his stomach jumped, but he was airborne.

"Don't look down, Russell!" Lorna laughed, and he cursed her, and her entire family line. It didn't help that Evelyn crowed in absolute joy beside him. She'd always been fearless; he'd always been the coward. Just follow Lorna. Keep your eyes on her. And do not vomit; you will never live it down… Ah, yes. Banastre Russell, Gilnean hero, swallowing down bile, gripping a bird with shaking hands, forcing himself to keep breathing.

It was a little better when nothingness gave way to apparently solid decking, and his animal landed beside the others. Orcs. Kill…orcs. Don't look down. This wasn't hard. He could do it…and not consider how he was supposed to get back on solid ground. "So what's the plan?" He demanded, going back to lupine form and bounding over to Lorna.

"We crash it, of course."

Of course. "How?" He finally asked, shadowing her and targeting orcs along the airbags.

"I have explosives."

Of course she did. She was on an airship well above the ground, a mage hanging over her shoulder, throwing fireballs, and she had explosives. His day was just getting better and better….

"I'm not a hero!" He bellowed over the din, and she stared back at him.

"No, no, you certainly are not! You've been nothing but a coward the whole way! Now kill them!"

Right. Kill them. He locked his mind closed on his terror, and fell into step behind the two women. He'd made it this far. He was beginning to have faith that he would keep going, ignoring the fact that their progress took them higher up in the shrouds, further away from the dubious safety of the deck. He just had to keep Lorna and Evelyn alive, with the explosives, until they could plant them…and crash…the airship. It was sheer insanity, and he was sober for it. "We need to get back down there!"

Down? His head spun when he looked over the edge to the deck. "Lorna…?"

"Hush!" Evelyn hissed, securing a rope left tied to the shrouds, and handing it to him. "Just do it, Ban!" She clenched his resolve by doing just as she exhorted him to…and if he did not follow, he would be left behind. He screwed his eyes closed, grabbed the rope, and jumped.

He landed badly, with an ominous thump, but he was intact and seemed little the worse for wear when he stepped into motion. More orcs, but Lorna grasped his wrist when he began to cast. "No!" She bellowed over the din. "We can't crash it here! They have to move it away from Keel or…"

He nodded…the or was obvious. He felt the catch of the engines, and the dirigible began to move north, away from Keel. Lorna nodded, pulling the explosives from her pack and running down, below decks. "It's set…! Now we hold until it's too late!"

Ban had never appreciated 'too late'. It could often go both ways, and this definitely had the earmarks of one of those situations, and he still had doubts about how they were supposed to get down. The hippogriffs that had brought them were apparently the only sane ones here…they were nowhere to be seen.

"What the hell is that?" Evelyn yelled, and he looked…up… at a monstrosity of an orc rolling towards them. It ran almost like a worgen, on three fours, and it bellowed like Ban had always imagined an enraged dragon to bellow. It was almost as large as Ban had imagined a dragon to be, as well, easily three times as large as the largest male orc he'd seen up until then.

"That….is one big orc." Lorna managed, and he could only agree in silence.

"By the Light!" Evelyn marveled, unlimbering the largest caliber hunting rifle he possessed… Or like many of his erstwhile possessions…that she probably possessed. He let that thought go, focused on his target, and let go with everything he had.

"I have no idea!" He yelled back, calling on that wellspring of magic in his soul that he had never bothered to nurture. Not really a mage. These people have no idea… But they kept relying on him, no matter how many times he told them that. Evelyn should know better, she'd been raised alongside of him. He was just…

Falling.

He yelped when the deck pitched, managing to sink claws into the decking and hold his ground. He snatched Evelyn up from her roll, and braced her securely…Lorna was still in the doorway to below decks, wedged in. She wasn't going anywhere… "Keep on it!" That one was as irascible as her father…with the damn deck pitching, Ban held in place with his claws, and he was still supposed to kill the orc? "Oh, hell." He muttered when Evelyn brought the rifle to bear again… the recoil on that was brutal…. He sank the claws of his left hand into the splintering wood deck and grabbed the tails of her coat with the other, providing tripod stability as she sighted down her target. The shot was good, better than good… stellar, between the beast's eyes. He was stunned; she'd gotten so much better since that terrible night.

"Good." Lorna snapped when the beast dropped, "Now we get off of here…on those."

Ban followed her arm and sighed in disgust. Another animal with wings, and this one looked viciously feline. But he was out of options….

Why why why why why! His soul screamed but he remained bitterly silent when he wrapped arms around the largest one's neck and Lorna cut it free. It needed no more encouragement, bolting down the deck and launching itself in the air. Never again. He was never, ever flying again.

"Land, damn it, land." He hissed, and was rewarded by a thump and the sensation of running beneath him. A cautious look proved that he was just this thing's body height over the ground, and he let go, rolling for safety.

There was one single boat remaining when he loped up to the docks, trailed by Lorna and Evelyn. They'd waited… of course, with Crowley stalking the docks; they probably hadn't had much of a choice. "Good job." He growled, and Ban grinned. "You two are the last on. Good luck."

"Wait, what?" That wasn't right. Crowley wasn't aboard. Lorna. A goodly number of the pack. They were being evacuated, while these remained behind? "No!"

"The King's orders, Russell. Your name, Miss Whittaker's, all on the list for the last boat. Now that you've arrived, they can shove off…."

"After all this, you evacuate us like civilians? We just…." They had just done the unthinkable, brought down an airship, with a handful of people…and were being placed on transport now? "There must be room, Crowley!"

"There is room, Pup. But they don't get my country free and clear. They don't rest after they've killed Liam in front of me. I will make them pay. We will make them pay."

The pack behind him nodded eagerly at his words, and Ban chilled. "I thought…" He'd done the very best he was able to do. He'd faced his greatest fears, fought beyond what he had ever even dreamed he was capable of, and it hadn't been enough. He wasn't counted worthy to stay in the pack with Crowley, to stand for Gilneas…

"Enough of the long face, Russell. Your service has been beyond reproach. I see that. Genn sees that."

"Then let me stay! Evelyn can go to Teldrassil…. I stay with the pack! I stay with the pack lord!" He could feel the weighty approval of the pack arrayed behind Crowley, and Evelyn's equally dire outrage.

"Bastard!" She hissed, grabbing a thick handful of his ruff and giving it a good yank. "I just got you back, I am not evacuating again while you do this to me…I learned the first time! If you stay, there's no way in hell I'm getting on that damn boat!"

"Genn has already left Gilneas, Russell. The pack lord is off of these lands, headed for Teldrassil. He chose you as one of the pack to accompany him out into the world. Said you were to learn to be what he had denied you…a mage…trained by the Kirin Tor, if possible. That is how he sees you serving Gilneas, Russell. With your innate gifts. We have remained aloof too long, now we need allies, such as the Kirin Tor. That will be how we regain Gilneas, pup. You go with Genn. You be one of the Gilneans that we show the world. Young, strong, full of promise….. and blameless in our crimes. Your value is not to annoy our enemies; it's to make friends with our prospective allies. Take Evelyn, follow Genn…this is no insult. It's an honor."

Ban glared, but measured the pack. If they didn't believe, agree, their stances would give it away. There were no reservations in them, a chorus of approving yips moved down their line, and he bowed his head in defeat.

"Come, then, Evelyn." He muttered, stepping onto the last boat out of Keel Harbor.

12/9/10 – 1/30/11. 39,719 words.

Author's note:

Well…there it is. I don't normally do this, but this one is different, so here goes:

Fog and Roses is special. No, I'm not saying that it's a great piece of fan fiction, a tour de force of writing. It's special because I wondered if it would ever come to pass. I know, while I'm not an incredibly prolific writer of fanfics, that I have enough behind me to pretty much be assured that I can get them finished, at the very least.

It seems like I've always written. It's a hope, a dream, and it's companionship. I'm rarely bored, because I have these stories, these characters, living in my head. They've been there for so long, I guess I've taken them for granted, and I shouldn't.

The fall of 2010 was pretty normal… I had completed Chiaroscuro to my satisfaction. I had sold another original short story, and overall, my focus was really on waiting for Cataclysm to launch and reestablishing my long term gaming habit. I wasn't writing, but there wasn't anything new in that. I go through more than my fair share of dry spells in actual writing, but the story lines were always there.

Everything changed September 27, 2010. Although the actual stroke had occurred the night before, that morning was the first time anyone had ever said, in concrete words, that I had experienced a stroke. Not a TIA, but an honest to goodness stroke, and I was to be admitted to my local hospital. Even then, it really didn't sink in; I played World of Warcraft between my every four hour neurological tests. I walked out of the hospital the next day. I was given a week off (the joys of having your boss also be your primary health care provider and the same guy who said the "S" word first.) And that started a barrage of tests. I didn't really pause to consider that my mind was full of spinal taps, Echocardiograms, MRIs, MRA's, TEE's, and was empty of voices. Of course they were gone… for the time being.

I went back to work, and received a probable (nothing is concrete) diagnosis…and the news that further strokes were probably preventable with surgery. I had gone from a neurologist's care to an interventional cardiologist's care, and things still felt surreal. Heart surgery? What?

Things took a major backslide in November, when I experienced a recurrence of stroke symptoms three weeks before my scheduled surgery. This was when it hit me that this wasn't just something I was going to float through… that was the concerned face of someone I worked with telling me that no, staying again at my local hospital wasn't an option. I was to be transferred to the University of Wisconsin hospital, regrettably (her words, not mine) the weather was too bad for med flight and I was going to have to go by ambulance. Reality is truly a 2 am, 80mph, 60 mile ambulance ride in gale force winds. The focus after that was simply to get to that surgery, even though nothing seemed to want to work. Home again, and still…no voices. But I made it there, the Friday before Thanksgiving, loaded to the gills on one of the strongest antibiotics available, (Pneumonia + surgery = ) for my procedure.

That went remarkably well, and I was released the next day. Went back to work the Friday after Thanksgiving. It seemed like everything was calming down, but still…no voices. For the first time ever, it wasn't there at all. It hadn't been there since the stroke, and I finally started to ask myself if that was one of the things I had lost during this. My coworkers, great people that they are, gave me a gift card and the statement "We wanted to buy you that computer game you keep talking about, but we're not sure which one it was, and we can't seem to find it in the store. Here, go buy it for yourself, but it's from us." A week later, Cata launched, and I was there to buy it. And drag it home. And install it.

And suddenly, there it was. A story line. A brand, shiny new character… Banastre. Things were back to normal, three or four voices again vying for attention.

Fog and Roses is special to me. And I hoped you enjoyed it. It's not the end of Ban and Evelyn, but with the flood gates open again…and the sudden opportunity of a Kindle publisher looking at one of my original works, I need to buckle down and get editing.

Happy Catackalysm, all!

Semiiramiis….

Damaris/Erasmis/Ranith and yes, Banastre, all of Runetotem US.