Prompt: May 16, 2012: Your character, for better or worse, is taken on a trip to three different locations. It is unsure why you are there, but your gathering in Stormwind does not begin there. For today's adventure, you are transported to the gloom halls of the Icecrown Citadel. With no direction at all, you are allowed to explored the empty palace once filled to the brim with undead minions. What does your character explore, if anything? How do they feel walking the halls? Is it still cold and cruel as they may have remembered it or been told?. . . . . Valdiis truly and deeply hated portal travel. It always felt - to her - like her eyeballs were being pulled out through her kidneys and shoved back in via her trachea. Behind the pain and disorientation was the ever-present fear that one day, some feckless and inattentive mage would mix their leylines and send her to the wrong place.
. . . . . Icecrown Citadel was about twelve kinds of wrong place right now. She was directly below the Throne, but down at the very ground floor of the Citadel - an area once guarded by a giant bone construct. The weight of the Citadel pressed down around her, monolithic and silent. The refrigerated corpses of many, many Scourge lay around her - each having simply set its armaments down, stretched out on the floor, and gone to sleep.
. . . . . There was a reason the Ebon Blade sent mostly newly-risen to guard the exterior grounds of the Citadel, and almost never sent them inside - and that reason had nothing to do with the secret at the top of the Throne. It was somewhat more practical, really. The newly-risen - those created on the fields of Icecrown itself and freed at Kingsfall - were much less weary, much less susceptible to the sonorous call from the Throne.
. . . . . Lie down. Lay down your arms, lie down, and sleep. Sleep.
. . . . . The compulsion was a continuous drone, fed by the full weight of the Jailer's power. Her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor, fighting just to stay upright. "Not yet," she whispered, trying to hang on to the memories of why she was needed, who she still protected. The hours spent convincing Celuur not to come here, not to give in. Her brothers' faces, her little... She couldn't remember. There was someone to remember, but it was gone now.
. . . . . She was so tired. So very weary of fighting and pain and anger. Didn't she deserve to rest, finally? There was a family, somewhere, to remem-...
. . . . . Valdiis stretched out on the icy floor of the Citadel, tucked her left arm under her head, and went to sleep.
((Naturally, this particular episode would have to be a hypothetical situation and does not actually occur - except perhaps when it's time to retire this character permanently.))