The crowd roared. The gawkers were there, as they always were when something different was happening. There was something different happening every day in Stormwind - I wondered how the professional gawkers managed to farm a crust. Maybe the Defias brotherhood succeeded in poisoning the water supply of Stormwind, however they got the formula wrong and it just upped the level of crazy. Or perhaps it is just the boiling pot of such diverse cultures coming to the focal point of power in the Alliance.
Today's object of gawking was a priest sitting in a bubble. He was preaching on the merits of living in a bubble.
|The bubble priest at work in his secure environment.|
"Look around you. Who can you trust? Who is that standing next to you corrupting you with their filth? My bubble protects me from all kind of nastiness, keeping me pure."
On cue someone through a shoe at him. It bounced harmless of the shield. What was with throwing shoes these days, it seemed everyone was doing it.
"Only from purity can you bring a positive influence upon the world..."
His words faded away as I moved on. There wasn't anything new here and I highly doubt that being undead would qualify me for the purity stakes. There was still a way to in for the League of Undead Rights to go before that prejudice was abolished.
I was making my way down to the Stormwind docks to catch a boat back to Teldrassil when I noticed the bubbled priest in front of me. He was walking along radiating disdain, when I heard a cry from behind a crate. A young boy was lying there in his own filth oozing blood from a beating he had taken. Life could be brutal in the shadier side of Stormwind.
The bubble priest stopped and looked at the boy before turning away and shuffling on. I couldn't believe it.
"Stop!" I yelled. He glanced at me and continued walking off.
"Stop damn it!" I repeated. "You preach about doing good, about making difference. How can you just walk away from someone in dire need?"
"How can I help? The taint is too strong. If I help him I will become like him. Look at him writhing in his own filth." he paused as his revulsion overwhelmed him. He turned and ran away.
"Your shield is nothing but a whitewash covering your decaying core!" I yelled to his fleeing back.
"Purity means nothing if it isn't accompanied with compassion, with an ability to act." I said to myself.
Bending to help the now unconscious street urchin. "Purity is an internal thing not influenced by the physical. The only bubble that could keep him safe is one that lets in neither sight nor sound. And even then he'd have to contend with his own thoughts and self righteousness." I whispered to the wind.
I lifted the boy of the ground, no easy feat for someone of my stature even though he was mostly skin and bones. Hopefully at the cathedral I would find someone with the compassion and arts to save this boy, I knew my bandages would not suffice.