Author's note: Yes, this was inspired by Cataclysm. I thought it'd be an interesting thing to write about and, unlike my other WoW fic, the focus is not on humor. And also, I had to do research for this fic, which was actually kind of fun, but frustrating. The timeline in particular was giving me hives. Because, hey, saying that the Greymane Wall went up "sometime" after the Second War IS REALLY REALLY VAGUE! I had to guess, pretty much, that Gilneas must have isolated itself something like 3-5 years before the Third War/Warcraft III. Not to mention other problems, such as: how does the worgen curse spread? (I am going to assume that through physical contact, but with a limited success rate, because that would explain how people survived to tell about it.) Or how should I refer to Genn Greymane: as Lord Greymane or as King Genn? (I'll be using Lord Greymane, because that's what the WoWwiki article uses.) So, keep in mind that I'm going on guesswork here and be lenient. Enjoy.
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When Tess thought back to the moment the madness began, her mind did not turn to chilling fate of the Marigot family or even that day she went to search for Charlie in the woods. It turned to the time before that, to a mild summer evening.
She'd stepped out of the church before evening services for a minute. Under the waning sunlight and the lukewarm breeze, she felt a sudden twinge of apprehension, though she could not trace the root of this feeling. Looking across the dusty village road, all seemed as it should be. Villagers milled about their business, each one a familiar face in the small community. The few stands that sold various foodstuffs had been closed and emptied since early afternoon; Tess saw them each day across the street from her church. Men seemed to be congregating at the tavern, their chores for the day complete, while children that had been playing on the streets slowly broke off from their playgroups and headed for home. It was a familiar picture and its domesticity seemed to put Tess's mind at ease.
She idly fidgeted with the holy icon around her neck, a small silver sun with extending rays. She was always soothed when she thought of the Light and she forgot completely about the momentary and unexplainable unease she'd felt. She turned and went back inside.
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The village of Hillbrook had a population of barely three hundred and for many purposes, some people still went to Duskhaven or even Gilneas City, if Duskhaven could not accomodate. But insignificant though it was, Hillbrook still had a small church and since her husband's demise some years prior, Tess Clearwell had been in charge of her neighbors' spiritual needs.
Her husband, Light rest his soul, had been truly adored in the community, for all that he hadn't been born in Hillbrook. He came, instead, from Duskhaven and while Gilneans were usually very tight-knit and suspicious of outsiders, their old priest had recently died and they'd had to accept Daniel Clearwell lest they live like heathens; after all, people still died, people still wed and the blessings of the Light were still needed. Tess had been much younger then, nearing marrying age, and instantly smitten with the priest, who was five years older. It was, in a rather roundabout way, how she'd come to discover her affinity with the Light. She'd goaded lessons out of him and after many hours spent poring over holy texts, discussing philosophy and practicing her ability to channel the Light, eventually her girlhood crush turned into love and that love somehow ended in a marriage.
The marital bliss lasted all of three years before an idiotic accident involving a recalcitrant horse and a cart filled with logs ended it. She'd certainly raged at first and grieved for quite some time, but in her long hours of prayer, she'd come to reach a clarity of mind that focused her on the present as never before.
One day, she took Daniel's vestments, modified them so they'd better fit her, and by evening she was in church, holding service. The villagers did not grumble much. It was better than having another stranger.
The Greymane Wall came up after that. The mayor had called a meeting and discussed this at length and everybody came to the same conclusion: it was better this way. Lord Greymane is wise to protect us like this. We will never have to suffer strangers and their odd customs or be dragged into their problems. The fact that Hillbrook was too insignificant to even be noticed by these outsiders did not really occur to the villagers and life went on as it normally did, the wall making little difference one way or another.
For a time, at least.