Filling a Vessel

Darkness descended over the ruins of Silvermoon as night began its rule. Within the still halls of the empty parts of the city few noises disturbed the quiet evening other than the chirping of crickets. Now and then, a distant shuffling could be heard, giving slight hint that this place was not as abandoned as it appeared. Biara walked alone, using the solitude to put her unruly thoughts in order.

Her conversation with Alanth No'telyle had gone better than she'd hoped. When she found him, he was half drunk and rather unkempt; evidence of his plunge into depression over his recent failings in love. The sight of him had been both amusing and somewhat heartbreaking; what did it take to drive a man with such a callous nature into a state like that? Boot must have been an extraordinary elf to have driven Alanth into such a black pit.

I could see it in his eyes. In the way he looked out over the ruins when he spoke of her. The utter despair and heartbreak there. Haven't I worn it a thousand times before? How familiar was that? It was like looking into some strange soul mirror.

Alanth was more than just a brigand who cared for nothing but his next conquest. Biara could see it, even if the elf himself could not. He would never fight at all if there was no drive or purpose within him. Boot may have filled him with something that he'd been lacking, but he was not the empty vessel he seemed to be most of the time; beneath the surface was an entire person that no one had taken the effort to learn about. No one had ever been his friend.

Everyone needs friends, if only to tell you when you've done something utterly idiotic!

The thought made Biara smile. How many times did her own friends and allies scold her? How many times did they bring her back from a wayward path that would have lead nowhere? That was all Alanth needed; some guidance and purpose in his life. Once he found that his blades could be used for something that had real meaning, he would be complete and whole, and he would find another elf to stir his heart to fire like Boot had. Biara would see to it that Alanth had that chance.

She paused for a moment, realizing that her thinking had taken her far deeper into the ruins than she'd intended to walk. Around her, the buildings pressed in ominously, empty and lifeless. The ground was littered with the debris of everyday life, left there from the scourge invasion as the inhabitants were dragged from their homes and pressed into the service of the undead. She paused, her boot brushing against a pile of things left by the populace as they evacuated. A moldy old child's doll sat on top of the ruined crates and furnishings.

Such a tragedy. My people deserved so much better than this. It makes my heart ache to think of what they had to go through, what they still may be going through as thralls in unlife.

A sound interrupted her thoughts. Her eyes darted up, only to take in the form of a shadowy figure running at her. She turned to get away from it, only to see more figures closing in around her. The sound of their shuffling echoed off the empty buildings eerily. She whirled around as a presence drew close to her, a powerful grip grabbing the front of her dress and nearly lifting her off her feet.

A Wretched stood before her, holding her like she might hold the doll lying by the side of the road. His clothing was torn and ragged, his skin pocked with crystalline growths. He grinned, his pointed teeth displayed above his dull glowing blue eyes as he looked over his catch.

"What have we here pretty pretty?" he hissed. Biara squirmed in his grasp, but she senses others closing in behind this one, saw the glint of weapons from the corner of her eye.

"Release me at once, I am a Magistrix of Silvermoon," she said in a deadly calm voice.

The Wretched's smile widened and he pulled her closer, his hand reaching out to grasp her chin and tilt her head to the side, showing her glittering wardmarks clearly. He leaned his head in, sniffing her face like an animal and making her shudder in revulsion. "But pretty, we knows how to deal with your kind, yes yes. We wants the magic, needs it yes. We'll have it we will."

The other Wretched all cackled around her, and Biara looked at her captor with a mixture of rage and pity. "I wish to all the Titans that I could help you, could find a cure for you. I swear that I will do everything I can. I also swear that if you do not release me at once, I will be forced to slay you despite the fact that you and I were once kin."

The Wretched laughed and leaned forward, licking her face. As he did so, she could feel a strong pull at her magic, his hand slipping down to her neck as he held her aloft with the other hand. Power flowed between them as the creature tried to feed on her, and she knew without a doubt that this particular gang of Wretched had likely waylaid many Sin'dorei, keeping them captive until their magic ran out and they died in agony.

She gasped as she felt his feeding grow stronger, drawing magic out faster. The creature laughed, it's companions joining it. She felt weakness settling over her, a feeling of lethargy that would eventually turn to agony before everything turned black. The urge to just close her eyes and drift away in it was almost overpowering.

As I told Alanth, my strength, my life is for Quel'Thalas. I do not have the luxury of weakness, of mercy, of having the right to love. Not like he does.

Her hand shot out and grasped the Wretched by the neck. The creature smiled, thinking the struggles of his physically weaker captive amusing. That was until Biara's own Thirst was aroused and began to draw its life essence in. The air around the two crackled as their energies battled, power being drawn out of both and floating around them. The air temperature plunged and Biara's eyes glowed with arcane energy as her own skill at magic began to overcome the other's instinctual urge to feed.

The Wretched holding her weakened, dropping her to her feet. Her own hand remained firmly clasped around it's throat, and she began to gasp in ecstasy as she fed on its magic. The creature groaned, seeming to curl in on itself as its life force became just another piece of the power contained within Biara's form. Her eyes closed to half lidded slits as the pleasure of the feeding filled her, replacing the magic she had lost and adding to it. The ring of Wretched surrounding her backed up slightly, eyes wide in surprise.

It was, of course, far too late for them to flee.

She let the empty husk of the Wretched that had assaulted her slump to the dirt of the road, and looked at the others through blazing blue eyes. She smiled and addressed them, even as they backed further away. "The problem is, you seek to master something that you long since lost control of. Your desires, your weaknesses, led to the state you are in now. Your inability to control your magic threatens the friends and family you left behind, and yet you can do nothing to stop yourselves. You continue to threaten the very lands that birthed you, just as the scourge who put you into this state of despair did before you."

The air began to freeze as Biara's anger grew. "As I told Alanth earlier, we cannot afford weakness like this. There are so few of us, and those of us with the strength to carry on must do so in order that the weakest will survive. I will do what I must for Quel'Thalas, regardless of the sacrifices I must make."

Magic lashed out, freezing bolts of ice striking the Wretched as they wailed and tried to run. None made it further than ten yards before they were sliced to bits by Biara's raging power. As the last of them fell, she lowered her hands, looking at them for a moment.

I have sacrificed everything for Quel'Thalas. I have lost family, friends. I have shed blood and tears. I have lost love, and my heart aches to think about it. Alanth has no idea how fortunate he is, to not HAVE to do the things that I must do, to have a chance to have loved Boot with all his heart, even if he lost it in the end. What do I have, but endless enemies to destroy and a life spent in lonely solitude because people either fear to be near me, or are snatched from me by my foes.

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. Alanth had made her feel this way with his despair, and she had no time for self-pity. She turned and began walking back towards the city. She had responsibilities, tasks that had to be completed to ensure the safety of the Sin'dorei. Nothing was more important than that, nothing could be allowed to weaken her when she most needed to be strong.

For the life of her though, she could not understand why a pair of fel green eyes belonging to a certain Blood Knight haunted her thoughts on the lonely walk back home.